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Between Heaven and Earth

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"Daddy, get the door!" That was Trucy.

"I don't feel like it, Trucy. Apollo, you do it," the ex-lawyer said with a yawn.

"I don't understand Mr. Wright, you are doing nothing of importance, and I'm trying to go through this case file. The trial is tomorrow and I'm going to need an absolute miracle to get this guy off." Apollo whined, but stood up to answer the door anyway. Clicking the lock mechanism without checking, he opened the door to none other than his former boss, Kristoph Gavin.

"Why hello, Apollo, you seem to be doing quite well," Kristoph greeted cheerfully. Apollo stood in bewilderment, unable to speak. Kristoph should not be here; standing in front of him. He should be in the best penitentiary wearing navy blue and white prison garb, in a padded room, with nothing less than a straight jacket on. Not looking like he's come straight from a runway!

"Apollo what's…taking…you…so…" Trucy ran into the front room to see Kristoph standing there with a charming smile and Apollo paralyzed with shock. "Uhm, daddy, I think you should come out here…" Trucy said, with uncertainty.

Phoenix 'tsked' in impatience. "Alright, alright. I'm coming." Phoenix soon emerged from the office, fixing the video camera on his beanie.

"Honestly Phoenix, you should never leave your guest waiting for such a time. Very terrible host, you are." Kristoph said briefly, while watching Phoenix tense at his voice.

"Apollo, take Trucy and go investigate that crime scene with Ema," the ex-lawyer said tersely, never taking his eyes off of Kristoph.

"But Mr. Wright! I may want to talk to Mr. Gavin as well!" Apollo whined loudly, he felt bad for himself. Despite it all, he'd still had some measure of admiration for the German lawyer turned convict. He was, at one point, his teacher and a damn good one at that. He may have been a little psychotic, but he never taught his disciples anything but how to defend properly.

He'd read a case file one day, about another German man called Manfred von Karma. He was a prosecutor and he used every trick in the book. Forged evidence, false testimony, kickbacks, bribes the works. You name it, he's probably done it. He'd heard someone call Kristoph 'the Manfred von Karma' of all Defense Attorneys. He wondered if all Germans were off as the one's he tended to associate with.

"Apollo. Take. Trucy. And. Go. See. Ema." Phoenix said each word with lethal precision. That was the no argument tone, there.

"Yes, Apollo, do go see Fraulein Skye. This is no place for…children." Begrudgingly, Apollo led a slightly trembling Trucy through the door, case file in hand.

Both waited until the door was completely shut before daring to say anything. Phoenix spoke up first. "Why are you here?"

"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Phoenix? I had hoped my good manners would rub off on you. Seems my hopes were wrong." Kristoph cradled his right elbow with his left hand, scar twitching violently. Pushing his expensive frames up, he pulled his Ariadoney painted nails through his silky blonde locks while shaking his head.

Suddenly, his head was tossed to the right the glasses falling to the floor with a soft tinkering. Phoenix actually punched him, he mused. His hair immediately came apart from its trademark drill and became almost deranged looking. Phoenix remembered it immediately and he knew what was coming next, yet he repeated his question. "Why are you here, Gavin?"

Bending at the knee, he grabbed his damaged glasses off the floor with a frown. "I was acquitted, found not guilty on every. single. charge." Kristoph said viciously sweet. "And it is your fault entirely. There is no-one else to blame, but yourself. Your precious Jurist System has gotten me a complete acquittal. And you were so confident." He let out the bone chilling laughter again, that howl against the wind.

"Get out." Phoenix muttered, knowing that he had no power over the situation. His only option left was murder; and he was already at aggravated assault.

"How does it feel, Mr. Wright, to know that all of your hard work to put me away has ultimately guaranteed my freedom?" Phoenix attempted to punch him again. Kristoph caught it this time. "Ah ah ah, always were too eager for your own good." Kristoph successfully had Phoenix backed onto a wall. "What a poor, pitiful cretin you are. Now you see that I was right." Phoenix's breath hitched as the blonde neared his ear.

"There are only two things that matter in a courtroom: the law and myself. Outsiders don't belong." Then, he pulled away abruptly. He went about fixing his hair into his usual drill.

"Well, Herr Wright. I can't say that our meeting was wholly unpleasant but it was certainly interesting. I will be going; I have to see my dear brother Klavier, I heard he wasn't doing to well. Hope you have a nice day." And with that Kristoph walked out of the Anything Agency smiling like a nothing happened at all.

Phoenix ran to the back room and flipped the couch over in depressed anger, tears streaming down his face. He crashed into the floor and propped his elbows on his knees, his eyes in each palm. He grabbed his phone, and called the number he knew was on speed dial.

After ringing three times, you hear a brief, 'Wright what is it?' He rested his head on the wall behind him, posing similar to Shadi Sm—Zak Gramarye in Apollo's first case. His breath ragged he simply asked, "Why is it that the pure evil never die, Miles?"

'What are you talking about?', he heard Miles ask.

"Oh, nothing much…except for the fact that the devil is back," Phoenix said with a ragged cough. "And he's a lot more dangerous than he was before."


Klavier was lying across his bed, simply tired. He was becoming a workaholic. He didn't eat sufficiently and he rarely slept. The last six months were absolute hell. Between Daryan and Kristoph's arrest, he'd been just…drained. His mind strayed to his brother, Kristoph. He would often wonder why Kristoph did such a thing. After that horrendous trial, Herr Wright had pulled him to the side and told him something quite interesting.

"Klavier, a moment please." That was Herr Wright, he found that after watching his brother taken into custody howling like a maniac, that just maybe he should be a full-time rockstar. His brother would— oh. It was one of the first times he'd ever second guessed his prosecuting job.

"Herr Wright…what can I do for you." He tried to sound relieved, but he was failing. He wanted nothing more than to go to his flat, curl up under his covers, and cry or kill something.

"I know this must be hard for you." Phoenix began. "I also wanted you to know that all is not lost." His features took on a serious look. "When I…visited Kristoph's –your brother's— cell, I had a chance to talk to him."

"Why are you telling me this? They just dragged my brother out of the courtroom in handcuffs, howling like some animal, on the charge of two counts of premeditated murder and it's possible they are going to hang him? You're telling me that all is not lost?" Klavier inhaled deeply. "Not forgetting the fact that my best friend, you remember Daryan don't you, was just taken to jail on the accounts of child abuse, bribery, embezzlement, and murder. Oh, let's toss coercion in there, while we're at it. Of course this is "hard on me" as you so lightly put it." Klavier snapped at him quietly, running his hands through his blonde bang. He really needed to speed this up.

"We'll keep this brief then. I spoke to your brother. He's hiding something. Deep inside of him, there is something dark that has a vice grip on his heart. Don't ask how I know, just know that I do. That is all." And he walked away after that.

He laid atop of his king size bed, cursing the absolute chill that seemed to come over his room, but did nothing about it. "Brother, I just want to know why…" He felt like crying, he honestly did. "First, it was Daryan, was then it Kristoph. It's too much for me to handle." He mumbled…and curled up in his ball tighter.

He didn't know how long lay there, just existing, but when his phone rang his heart skipped several beats. He contemplated answering, it rang and rang. He did not answer. Then it rang again, and without even looking at the caller ID he answered.

"Klavier speaking." Short and sweet.

"Hello dear brother. I would appreciate if you opened your door. These bags are rather heavy," rang the cheerful voice of Kristoph, startling Klavier into a near heart attack.

"This must be a joke." He hung up; trying to calm his franticly beating heart. The phone rang again, Klavier knowing the ringtone.

"Nur für mich bist du am Leben. (You're only alive for me.)
Ich steck dir Orden ins Gesicht. (I poke medals into your face.)
Du bist mir ganz und gar ergeben. (You are utterly devoted to me.)
Du liebst mich denn ich lieb dich nicht. (You love me because I don't love you.)"

Klavier looked at the phone in absolute horror. This was a dream, no, this was a beautiful nightmare. Picking the phone up with trembling hands he whispered, "Hallo?"

"Klavier, open the door. Now."

Klavier dropped the phone and ran out of his room, down the stair and to the front door. Swinging it open, he took in the crisp, clean sight of his brother without his glasses obscuring his stormy grey eyes, with grocery bags in his arms. Snapping the phone shut, he walked himself in. Sitting the bags down in the front room, he removed his overcoat and blazer, revealing a pure white button up.

Klavier was in shock as he leaned against his front door. Kristoph was home. Here in the flesh. Not in a noose. Not strapped to a table. Home, it's where the heart really is. Klavier, was crying. He ran up to his brother, who still dwarfed him in height by at least a head and a half. He reached forward and touched his face. "Mein Gott, you're real."

Kristoph scoffed, "Of course I am, Klavier." He brushed past his younger brother and went into the kitchen. "This place is a mess Klavier, and so are you. Go make yourself presentable. I will do something with this disgusting space you call a kitchen." He waved Klavier off, rolled his sleeves up and began to wash the dishes.

Klavier ran upstairs with a smile and took a long hot shower. He grabbed his shampoo and used the entire bottle to treat his hair. He stepped out and brushed his pearl white teeth and smiled at his reflection. He dried his hair and giggled at how girly his hair looked all curly like. He reached into his closet and found a black polo shirt and some red jeans. Kristoph never approved of him wearing leather, so he made sure to keep a side for "Kristoph Approved" clothes. They mostly were button ups, slacks, and blazers. He put in the Gavin trademark drill into his head and smiled again.

Looking around his room, he noticed that it was a pig sty and decided to clean it up. He tossed all visible clothes into the dirty laundry hamper, hung all belts up according to color, matched each pair of shoes he had in his room (leaving out a pair of slippers for Kristoph), he changed his bed set to from black silk to blood red silk with gold accents. He was nearly skipping as he jammed out to some traditional German rock music. He continued to hang each of his Spanish guitars on the wall, airing the room out, and vacuumed his floor.

By the time he was finished, his room was spotless and shining. And he smelled something good cooking. Grabbing the slippers for Kristoph, he slid down the rail in the front room and landed right in front of Kristoph with a childish grin. Kristoph looked less amused. He removed his shoes and replaced them with the soft slippers. "I've always hated when you did that. Remember the last time you did that and broke your arm?"

Klavier cringed. "Ja, I do." Kristoph shook his head and returned to the kitchen with Klavier trailing close behind. The kitchen was spotless, not that he expected anything less of Kristoph.

Klavier sat at the table and twiddled his fingers as Kristoph cooked. "So...how did it happen?" Without missing a beat, Kristoph replied. "How did what happen, Klavier." He looked at his brother, who chopped green onions like a professional. Klavier replied, "Your acquittal. You and I both know you killed that man."

Kristoph smirked. "I did no such thing Klavier." Kristoph tossed the green onions in the skillet and turned the fire down. Klavier grimaced. "That's bullshit, Kristoph." He chuckled. "I raised you better than that. If you want to know so badly, thank Herr Wright. His Jurist System got me acquitted. They found me innocent of all charges. Simple as that."

Klavier sighed. "I see. So will you be back as a Defense Attorney?" He sounded hopeful. They never did get their day in court. Kristoph shrugged his head. "I have not decided yet, Klavier. You'll be the first I tell."

Klavier nearly swore, his brother was being so evasive. "So-" Kristoph cut him off.

"No more questions, Klavier. I don't like being interrogated." Kristoph sat an omelette in front of Klavier, who's stomach rumbled.

Klavier smiled. "I'm not through with you yet, Kristoph. You're nowhere near off the hook."

Kristoph picked up the Wall Street Journal and chuckled. "I would hope not, Klavier."