A/N Hurray! I finally got off my behind and decided to create a story! After being of no help whatsoever when I review others (Cough Cough) I figured I could let you all take a stab at me!

This is just a one shot I wrote a long time ago, and figured I'd post it before my multichannel one. Ha! I didn't even go through it. WOOPS!

Apollo: PRINCESS OWNS NOTHING!

Klavier: Watch the screeching next time, Herr Forehead.

(NO!)

"Herr Forehead! Nein! Speak to me!" I pleaded. But I knew he wouldn't. It was too late. I was kneeling in a pool of blood (I tried not to think "his" blood) and was tarnishing the scene. I knew that. But I couldn't pull myself away.

"Herr Forehead," I sniffed. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have snapped.

What would I tell Herr Wright?

What would I tell the Fräulein that follows him around? His sister, was it?

What would I tell myself?

The bare bulb flickered ever so slightly. The corridor was empty but for me. Of course it was empty. Who would want to live in this rundown apartment building? The wood floors were splintered and ripped away altogether in some places. The lead paint on the walls were peeling off. This was a very old building indeed.

"Herr Forehead! Where are you?" I knocked on a beaten down door with numbers claiming Room 166. It was hanging on by a loose bolt. (He had better be here...)

But it wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't. Herr Forehead hadn't been seen in days. He didn't show up at the Wright Anything Agency for work, nor at court yesterday. His client got an automatic guilty verdict, and I know Herr Forehead wouldn't just not show up. Especially against Prosecutor Payne.

"Herr Forehead, this is no joke. Come out, now," I was serious. I knocked again. The top pin of the last six fell off, so the room number now proclaimed Room 169, but there was no other sound.

"Um Gottes willen!" I muttered. I really didn't want to go in there.

I tested the knob. (Please be locked. Please be locked. Please Gott let it be locked!)

Locked.

Danke Gott.

I turned to leave. What kind of idiot would hide from everyone in his own home? That would be the first place to look! Even Herr Forehead wasn't that dense.

Right?

I backtracked. Maybe he was that dense. Always pulling out evidence at the last second seems to suggest so. I can't believe I missed that.

Time to see what Herr Forehead has been hiding from us all, ja?

SLAM!

SLAM!

CRASH!

I tumbled into the room, but all I saw were shadows. The only light came from the bulb in the hall.

Feeling for a light switch, I couldn't help but take an uneasy breath. Something wasn't right. The aura was just too tense.

I flicked the switch. Nothing happened. I flicked it a few more times. Nothing. Forget the switch! I begin to walk through the room. Who needs light? Who needs guidance? They always have an ulterior motive in the end.

In fact, I had been expecting this day. The day when Apollo Justice, too, would get up and leave. Everyone thought I was paranoid, that just because it happened twice, doesn't mean it'll happen again. Twice was enough to leave someone tentative, but they didn't understand. The only one who partially understood was the Fr äulein Detective.

"Gavin, you can't keep sulking until it finally hits you," the Fräulein yelled out.

"Fräulein Skye, it is far to early in the morning for this," I grumbled. I hadn't spoken for days after Daryan's arrest. No one dared (or bothered) to question why. How could this Fräu think she would make any difference?

"Look Gavin, my sister was arrest once," (What? I did not know this... How could I not know this?) "Yeah, you didn't know. I kept it that way. But that's not the point! My sister was arrested once and she was the coldest person on the face of the earth for a spell before her arrest. So don't you dare tell me that it is too early in the morning!"

Still, she did not know the whole story.

I had already stepped on a jack-in-the-box, a cat toy, and what I hoped was a half-eaten sandwich. This place was a dump, even if I couldn't see anything.

With my arms out, I felt a wall. I followed the wall to an open doorway.

"Hallo? Is anybody home?" I asked. "Ist hier jemand?"

No answer. I scoffed. He probably wasn't even here.

THUMP.

I jumped. What was that?

"Meow," reached my ears. A cat? I did not know Herr Forehead had a cat! He has so many secrets...

Something soft and furry brushed against my legs and I looked down into glowing eyes. It was pitch black, but its beautiful eyes still glowed.

"Hallo, kitty," I liked cats. Kris was a dog person, but not me. "Can you show me where Herr Forehead is, kitty?"

The eyes blinked and began to back up. Interesting. It didn't take it's eyes off me as I followed it. Almost like it knew I could only see it's eyes...

The cat led me to a lit room, and vanished. Almost like a cliché scene in a movie, when a character thinks they're in heaven. But once I looked into the room, I knew it wasn't heaven.

There, sitting in the room, was a lone chair. But it wasn't empty. Herr Forehead sat in it, facing my way.

He had a gun in his hand.

"H-Herr Forehead! W-What are you doing!" I asked urgently, jumping straight into the room. I went right over to him, and he stood in surprise, keeping the gun in his hand.

"P-Prosecutor Gavin? What are you doing here?" He tried to hide the gun behind his back, but I think he suspected I already saw it.

"Herr Forehead, you haven't been seen in days," I told him seriously. "You had to expect someone to show up eventually,"

"Days...?" The reality of just how long he had been here seemed to have hit him. "Days? I've been here for days?"

"Well, I wouldn't know, would I? I'm not your keeper," I flashed a small smile. I knew what it felt like to be lost in your thoughts so long, that time passes without realization.

"Herr Forehead, everyone's worried about you. Come back to the Wright Anything Agency with me. Herr Wright and his daughter have set up a "Find Apollo" Organization there," I tried to coax him, but he wouldn't move.

"I can't, Gavin," he wasn't looking at me. "I can't take this 'Attorney' thing anymore."

Apollo lifted the gun slightly.

"Seeing all those innocent people I couldn't help..." he began to tear up, but he quickly blinked it away.

"Herr Forehead, we aren't gods," I soothed. I wasn't the one to empathize, but if he was about to commit suicide, I think I could make an exception!

"Why do you call me that?" he asked suddenly. He lowered the gun a bit, so I decided to answer in order to keep his mind off of other things.

"Herr Forehead? Well, because you have a rather large forehead," I said, albeit weakly.

"My forehead isn't any bigger than anyone elses," he grumbled.

"Ha ha ha! Herr Forehead, behind that abnormally large forehead is a great mind. One who works to find the truth," I stated. It was a fact. I never voiced it before (maybe once in court and that was as banter) but it was true.

"Yeah, right," He rolled his eyes. (He doesn't believe me!)

"Come on, Herr Forehead. Don't go upsetting everyone by doing this," I began to beg. I could never face the Wrights again. I could never look in another mirror without seeing Kris' reflection. He may kill himself, but I would be the true murderer.

He raised the gun to his chin. "You just don't think I can!"

"WHY!" I yelled out, trying to make him stop. He paused, so I continued, quieter. "Why are you doing this?"

"I told you, it's because of those innocent people being carted off to jail everyday!" Herr Forehead was savage. I had to try and put sense into him.

"That can't be it! If it were so, then why now?" I had brought up a good point, and he knew it.

"...I'm going to be dead in a few minutes anyway," he muttered. He lowered the gun to his side. I exhaled slightly. Okay, but we're still not out of the woods yet.

"It isn't because of the innocent people going to jail. I mean, it is! But..." Herr Forehead quickly corrected himself. He sat down in the chair. "That's not the whole reason.

"It's because of Kristoph," Oh dear. Not a conversation I wanted to have. "If you think about it, how many people like him are there out there? Tons! Too many... Far too many... And we can't do anything about it. I could go home right now and find Trucy dead. Gone. There'll be nothing I could do about it, either. Sure, the police could hunt down a suspect. Sure, he could be put in jail. But what good is that? Trucy will still be gone in the end. And the monster will have no remorse for killing her. Just like Kristoph."

He had made an excellent point. In the end, justice is never really served to the families of the victims. They had lost their loved one whether or not the criminal is behind bars. That's a flaw in the court system that can never be fixed.

"Herr Forehead... That's not fully true. If—"

"Don't lie to me,"

I did a double take. "P-Pardon?"

"I said, 'Don't lie to me'. I know you're lying," He looked into my eyes. It made me uncomfortable.

"Well! If you're going to be a smart ass all the time, maybe you should go and kill yourself!" I snapped.

"FINE!" He screamed. He raised the gun and fit it under his chin.

(What? No! I didn't mean it! STOP!)

But I couldn't voice my thoughts in time. He had closed his eyes. And for the briefest of moments, I could've sworn I saw him smile. But it was easily overthrown by the most sickening, gut wrenching sounds anyone will ever hear.

POW.

(NO!)

"Herr Forehead! Nein! Speak to me!" I pleaded. But I knew he wouldn't. It was too late. I was kneeling in a pool of blood (I tried not to think "his" blood) and was tarnishing the scene. I knew that. But I couldn't pull myself away.

"Herr Forehead," I sniffed. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have snapped.

What would I tell Herr Wright?

What would I tell the Fräulein that follows him around? His sister, was it?

What would I tell myself?

I feel amazingly evil, and just a little dirty... and for those too lazy to look up the meaning of the German:

Herr - Mister

Nein - No

Um Gottes Willen - For God's sake

Gott - God

Danke Gott - Thank you God

Fräulein/Fräu - Miss

Hallo - Hello