A Prosecutor's Darkness

A/N: Set directly after the trial in Turnabout Succession ends – technically, we still don't know if Vera Misham will live because that's the day after the trial.

Chapter 1 – A Brother's Wound

The journey from the courtroom to his office seemed to take an hour to Klavier, rather than its usual fifteen minutes. He felt exhausted from putting a good face on in court, even though Herr Forehead's questions after the trial and his own response that he was 'fine'. He wasn't sure that Justice believed him but he didn't care. The façade had disappeared when he left the courtroom on his hog, and by the time he opened the door to his office and sat down, he couldn't believe he'd looked so relatively unaffected for so long. So much was running through his head, yet silence pounded in his ears. He sat down at his office chair. It was so comfortable and soothing. Yet…

Klavier, how can you call that an office chair? It is… too… plush. Not professional enough. You don't want to look like some casual, random person they picked off the street. You're a Gavin. You need-

I have all I need, Kristoph. It appeals to me and I can't be an overnight rock sensation and work in a stuffy, pristine office. Besides, haven't you heard the goss? They're already calling me a true thoroughbred in the prosecutor's office. So, I think I'm professional enough.

Kristoph shook his head in resignation.

Klavier quickly stood up. He couldn't bear to think of him. Not now. He looked out the window. Cars drove past the office, people walked around, living their lives. Completely unaware of other people's lives around them. Unaware that a girl lay in a hospital, dangerously close to death. Unaware that a once harmless big brother had turned into a murderer.

He watched some people line up for food. Others walked somewhere with purpose. Kids played with their siblings, chasing each other. Klavier thought he could hear their laughter as he watched two little boys race through the crowd. The little one was chasing the bigger one – from where Klavier was, they didn't look so different.

He hadn't realised he was crying until he felt a tear drop off his face. He sniffed, steeling himself. He couldn't cry. He was stronger than this. That's what Kristoph always…

Why does it always come back to him? Klavier closed his eyes. He could feel himself sweating again. The events that had unfolded before him only moments earlier still ran through his mind, each time wounding him. He didn't want to believe that it had happened – that his big brother, who was so gentle when they were younger, could turn into the sight that he had seen. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. But he knew he could not.

In his mind, Kristoph stood before him on the witness stand. His glasses glinted in the light. Then his face twitched. Every twitch made Klavier wince slightly. The slam of his fist on the witness stand echoed in his mind. Kristoph's bullets of sweat down his face matched Klavier's as he replayed the images in his mind – unable to purge them from his mind. He put his hands to his ears, a discordant note sounding in his mind as he tried to shake it out.

There is only room for two in this court: me, and the law! Those words rang through his mind. He knew his brother always strived for perfection, but the absolutist view that Kristoph had shared in that court was not the brother he knew. At least, it wasn't the brother that he knew when he was younger. The brother that he looked up to, hoped to be like when he was older. They were supposed to battle in court that day, on his debut – a fair trial. How had he not seen through the information his brother gave him – information that seemed too easily given? He hated his 17-year-old self for being so gullible, so distracted by the prospect of going up against a legendary defence attorney, that he'd accept all information just to have the chance of becoming well-known in the legal world on his prosecutorial debut. How did he let himself succumb to his brother's control? The impenetrable darkness that existed even though he didn't want to believe it?

He banged his fist on the window, ignoring the sharp pain that came. He flicked his bangs out of his face, the habit reminding him how much he looked like his brother now – their hair was almost identical – though he always maintained that his was better…

He focused on his reflection in the glass – his hair that was once short was now long, styled in that twist that he had once thought looked strange until Kristoph convinced him otherwise. Like Kristoph, Klavier was very conscious of his looks. He had to be – he was a famous rock star, after all. As he studied his reflection, he noted how similar he was to Kristoph. While his brother was slightly taller and had lighter hair, he shared similar traits to Klavier. Klavier watched in horror as the reflection's face before him changed. It now bore glasses, it's hair was lighter but the same twist as his. It's face twitched as it smiled at him.

Klavier blinked in horror.

It was only him in the reflection. But the sight had terrified him. What if I become like Kristoph? Always striving for perfection, no matter the cost? Driven to murder yet calm and collected on the surface as always?

He sat down tentatively, his back now against the glass window as he brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. Suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room. Breathe. In. Out. In… Out… A lone tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes. His breathing slowed and he calmed down, though the thought continued to haunt him.

It's in you. We could be just like each other, Klavier. All you've known for the past seven years is my control. You disappoint me, Klavier. I get accused of murder while you watch? How… embarrassing.

A new image formed in Klavier's mind. A man that Klavier did not recognize. A man in a purple-blue suit, his eyes no longer peering through glinting glasses, but staring at him with hate. His hands gripped his arms and his once perfect, pale-blonde hair, hung loose – in messy waves that were a shadow of the familiar twist that Klavier wore his hair in. He looked like a madman. He was a madman. He was not his brother, Kristoph Gavin. He was the mad murderer, Kristoph Gavin.

The murderer laughed, the mad laughter ringing in Klavier's ears – loud, haunting, and repetitive. Klavier raised his head towards the ceiling, as he had done in court when he asked Kristoph to stop arguing the truth. He tried to block out the laughter but could not. His eyes were still closed as images rolled through his mind.

Kristoph's fist slammed on the witness stand and Klavier flinched.

His laughter rang out, loud in Klavier's ears.

Kristoph played with his hair in frustration.

Kristoph's hand tensed, the devil himself appearing on his hand.

His heart pounded in his head.

The fist slammed again.

The laughter continued.

The hair flicked.

The hand tensed.

His heartbeat pounded faster, sounding louder in his head, mixing with the haunting laughter.

The fist…

The laughter…

The hair…

The hand...

The Devil.

The Devil…

Devil…

Devil…

The words echoed in his mind, drowning all else out. Klavier gasped, lowered his head, and opened his eyes in horror.

Silence.

A knock sounded on his open door.

'Excuse me, fop, but I…'

Ema Skye stepped into Klavier's office, expecting to see him casually lounging on his 'office chair', but instead found him huddled against the window. His blue eyes staring into space with a terrified expression on his face. She stopped and gasped. His eyes met hers and for a moment, there was a pleading look in his eyes – like a child who just had a nightmare and needed their mother. As quick as he glanced at her, he looked away, a mixture of embarrassment and sadness on his face. He kept avoiding her gaze as she walked towards him. Only when she stood in front of him did he look up at her – although she was shorter than him, she looked so tall from his spot on the wooden floor. He did not know why but her gaze, full of concern yet sympathetic, made his eyes tear up with unreleased emotion. He still refused to cry – especially in front of the Fräulein Detective, when he knew she disliked him despite his attempts to win her over. It didn't stop a tear from rolling down his cheek though. He wiped his face and looked away again.

Ema sat down beside him – at a loss for words. She wished she had some Snackoos to munch on, but she'd run out. She took a breath. He may be her boss, and she may dislike him at the best of times, but right now, she had to be there for him when the only other person who would be there was now a convicted murderer. It was strange, seeing him in such an emotionally vulnerable state – a contrast to his confident, cool self. She placed a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled from it and she dropped her hand.

'P-Prosecutor Gavin, I-' What am I supposed to say? Sorry for your loss? It's going to be ok? Hope it all works out? She had never been one to successfully comfort people – Lana was good at that, especially after their parents had died. And when Lana had become cold to the world, nothing Ema could say would bring her out of it. She always needed others to help her. But this time it was all her. It was hard but she couldn't have another person she knew shut her out again. What would Lana say? What did she say to me?

'Prosecutor Gavin… if there's anything you want to get off your chest, or anything I can do to help… I'm… I'm here for you.' She tried putting her hand on his shoulder again and this time, he let her. He was clammy, cold and trembling. He turned his face towards her though his eyes still avoided hers.

'Ema…' Klavier felt tears start in his eyes and knew he couldn't continue without breaking down in front of his assistant. It would not do to have the Fräulein think he was a cry-baby. He focused intently on the carpet rug in front of him, trying to force the tears away before he talked again. It was hard.

For what seemed like ages, they sat in silence. Ema's hand had shifted to his back and stayed there – supporting him. Occasionally he sniffed. Ema waited patiently – she didn't know what else to say. All she could do was sit there, the afternoon sun hard on their backs through the glass. Ema had time to study his office in detail. Well, there wasn't much to study when one of the walls was just a massive display case filled with guitars. In fact, there were guitars everywhere. A tall filing cabinet stood at the end of this display case/wall but it must have been full or Klavier had been too busy, as Ema noticed the binders of files in various stacks around the office. She mused that the use of speakers as tables was a very rock-star thing to do, but she had to admire the idea. The massive screens above the main, large, speaker-desk showed everything from evidence lists for upcoming cases, current news (headline: Ex-Defence Lawyer Found Guilty in New Jurist Trial), weather, calendar – it was like a giant phone. Overall, Klavier's office was practical – to a degree, yet modern and suited exactly to a rock star prosecutor. She had to admire his style, although she'd never tell him.

He sighed and Ema thought it sounded a little shaky. But it sounded as if Klavier was ready to talk. She was about to say something when he started with,

'Ema, if you have places to be – by all means, don't hang around me. I'll only dampen your mood. Don't waste your time on me.' He still wasn't looking at her. She rolled her eyes and turned his head towards her with a firm push. He was shocked by her sudden movement and held her gaze, for the first time since she had entered the office that day. Keeping her hand on his face, she said,

'Fop. Don't be stupid. You are clearly in a dark place and I don't need science to see that for myself. But science, well common sense, and experience, tells me that when someone is upset or in a dark time – in this case, you – you talk to someone about what's eating at you. Now, I don't care if you don't tell me what's turning you into a terrified little child who looks like they've just seen the stuff that their nightmares are made of. But you need to tell someone, anyone, before I…' she trailed off. She was not going to tell him that she was worried about him. 'If you won't do it for yourself, at least… do it for me?' He blinked at her, slightly stunned. She removed her hand from his face and he looked away, thoughtfully. A pause followed before Ema politely coughed and said, 'Well… if you don't have anything to tell me, I'll ju-'

She went to get up from the hard, wooden floor but his hand grabbed hers. She didn't mean to gasp, but she did. His blue eyes stared at her teal ones, almost pleading with her.

'E-Ema… if-if it's not too much trouble… will you let me tell you why I'm so… distraught?' She smiled as she confidently held his gaze, his eyes seemed to smile at what she said next,

'Sure, Prosecutor Gavin. But first, can I get a seat to sit on? This floor's a bit hard…'

A/N: Sneaky Klema :) bit of a dark start…Ema might not have the best experience in comforting people, but I think her concern for Klavier got the better of her here. And the classic 'What Would Lana Do?'