You could be my nurse,
I'll be the patient you're saving.
Saturdays were the closest thing Ema ever got to a day off. She didn't have to come into the office, and sometimes she even made it through the entire day without being called to a crime scene. But more often than not, she ended up being put on a case regardless of the fact that when she had been hired, she had been promised two free days a week.
Eventually it became part of her Saturday morning ritual: wake up, brush teeth, pop a bagel in the toaster, and wait for a phone call from the prosecutor's office. But even though she had gotten used to it, Ema still felt a burning desire to ignore the caller – or even better, to chuck the phone against a wall – whenever she heard those first telltale notes of her ringtone.
The Saturday after wrapping up the Trudeau case, Ema was anticipating a nice, quiet weekend – after all, the prosecutor's office had plenty of detectives to choose from if any new cases came up. 'And I'm not exactly their star investigator,' Ema thought with a little shake of her head.
She had just finished brewing a pot of strong coffee and was about to sit down at the little card table in her kitchen and start her breakfast when her ringtone – oh, how she hated that sound sometimes – snapped her out of her surprisingly good mood.
Ema snatched her phone off of the kitchen counter and had to restrain herself from simply opening her fingers and letting the phone fly across the room.
"Hello?" she snapped, swallowing a mouthful of blueberry bagel and drumming her fingers on the counter impatiently.
"My, aren't we touchy?" the voice on the other end teased. Ema almost squealed with delight.
"Oh, Mr. Wright! How are you?"
"Not bad, Ema. Listen, I need a favor from you."
"Sure," Ema said, leaning back against the kitchen counter and glancing at her calendar to check when she was free. "Today?"
"Yeah, today. I need to go down to the detention center and speak with Kristoph – but he's been placed under high security, and after what happened at the last trial … let's just say that if I show up without a police escort, I'll find myself escorted out in a most unpleasant way."
"Honestly, Mr. Wright, I don't know if I'm the right person to ask for this kind of thing – I wouldn't exactly consider my position at the prosecutor's office one of power, if you know what I mean. You'd probably be better off with someone like K" – she had to choke back the name – "um, someone higher up on the law enforcement chain of command."
"The 'law enforcement chain of command' isn't too happy with me right now, Ema. And there are someone people – Klavier, for example – that I just can't ask." On the other end of the line, Ema could hear him let out a heavy sigh. "Poor kid – I can't imagine him wanting to escort me to visit his estranged brother at this time. No, it definitely has to be you."
"If you're sure –"
"Have I ever not been sure? I've been down to that detention center too many times for my own good, and trust me, the security isn't all that great. They probably won't even bother checking you out."
"Alright, then," Ema said, moving away from the counter to pace nervously up and down the kitchen. "I'll help, if it's that important to you."
"Great! I'll be at your apartment just as soon as I can figure out what to do with Trucy – just wait for me there. There's a bus stop close by, right? That's probably easier than walking."
"Yeah, there is. See you soon, Mr. Wright." Ema waited for Mr. Wright to hang up before she gingerly lowered her phone from her ear. She had the strangest feeling that she was getting wrapped up in some business that she really didn't want to be a part of, but she essentially had no choice. After all, didn't she owe Mr. Wright for helping her save Lana?
Though the detention center was really only ten minutes from Ema's apartment – fifteen, tops – the bus ride seemed to be taking hours.
"Do they really need to make all these stops?" Ema grumbled to herself, glaring out the window. She had been on edge since Mr. Wright had picked her up at and walked with her down to the bus stop, and the crowded bus seats had done nothing to improve her mood.
"Here," Mr. Wright said, handing her a folded pamphlet he had snagged from the front of the bus, "it says that we should be there in about … " – he glanced at his watch – "… three minutes. And besides, I really only need to ask Kristoph one question. It won't take long, I promise."
Ema would have asked what that one question was, but the bus had just pulled up to its stop down the street from the detention center, and Mr. Wright was already making his way through the crowded aisle towards the door. Once Ema climbed down from the bus, she had to jog to try and keep up with him, and didn't actually catch up to Mr. Wright until they were standing outside of the detention center doors.
Ironically enough, Mr. Wright had in fact been right about getting in to see Kristoph – the guards let the two into his cell with just one quick glance at Ema. From the moment she stepped inside the cell, Ema felt uncomfortable – the tension was thick, and when she finally set her eyes upon Kristoph Gavin, his stare seemed to travel right through her.
"Kristoph," Mr. Wright nodded, "you look much more … composed since I last saw you."
"Do I now?" Kristoph replied, with an uninterested glance towards his visitors. "Maybe jail time has done me good, then. What do you want?" It was such a blunt, to the point question that Ema was taken aback – Mr. Wright, on the other hand, seemed unmoved.
"Vera survived," he said with a daring little smile. "Just thought you should know."
"I'm sitting in jail," Kristoph said, lowering himself nonchalantly into his big armchair, "do you honestly think the lives that I once cared about matter to me any longer?" He shrugged. "She can live, what do I care?"
"Not that I expected you to care," Phoenix began, his eyes flashing, "but still, Kristoph, every time I talk to you, I'm amazed at your inhumanity. You had me fooled for quite some time, and I'll give you kudos for that – but that's the only thing I will ever commend you for."
Kristoph sat perfectly still, as Mr. Wright continued his ranting. Ema just wished she could get away from those all-seeing eyes.
"You're a sick bastard, Kristoph. Absolutely sick. And Vera – she trusted you, trusted you when she had no one else to trust, and you just screwed her over – you SCREWED HER OVER, YOU ASSHOLE –" Ema had grabbed Phoenix's arm and was desperately trying to stop him from physically attacking Kristoph.
"Mr. Wright, please! You'll get us in trouble – please, quiet down!" 'Please don't do anything stupid, Mr. Wright, my job could be at risk here …'
Kristoph laughed – a dark, humorless sound that silenced Phoenix better than any of Ema's pleading. "You're only making a fool out of yourself, Phoenix Wright. You're a prime example of the reasons why I gave up emotion."
"That's funny, Kristoph," came a voice that belonged to neither Phoenix Wright nor Ema, "because I've found that emotions are some of the best parts of life." If Ema hadn't still been in shock from the verbal altercation that had taken place just moments before, she probably would have blurted out a variety of profanities at the sound of Klavier Gavin's voice.
"Klavier," Kristoph acknowledged with a curt, unfriendly nod. "What brings you here?"
"I was filing some court documents and I couldn't help but hear all the shouting," said Klavier, stepping around Phoenix so he had a full view of his older brother. "But I'm surprised to see you here, Fraulein – after all, I didn't hear your voice."
Phoenix couldn't help but let out a completely inappropriately-timed snort, and Ema just rolled her eyes and ignored the comment.
"So the papers pertaining to the apartment are all filled out, then?" Kristoph asked, watching Klavier with an expression that had vague hints of interest.
"They've just been filed – it should take a few days for them to officially appear on record, but then again, you have all the time in the world, don't you?" It was a comment that would have stung any other human being, but Kristoph barely even blinked.
"I suppose life is going well for you, then?"
"I – it's lonely," Klavier admitted, and Ema, who had been running a strand of hair through her fingers, froze. Ever so slowly, she raised her eyes just high enough to watch Klavier from the corner of her eye; he wasn't acting like the glimmerous fop she was used to.
She turned to Phoenix to suggest that they give the two some time alone, but he was still staring at Kristoph with a strange expression on his face. So Ema just shrank back awkwardly, leaning against the bars of the jail cell and trying not to eavesdrop – although she somehow managed to catch every word.
"I used to think you loved me," Klavier said, in little more than a whisper.
"I do lo –"
"But it's so easy to say it, Kristoph – you can say 'I love you' but you don't mean it! Did you ever mean it?" He stuffed his hands into his pockets, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them. "If this is how you show love than I don't want your love. I – don't – want – it!" Klavier was shaking head to toe, and his words seemed detached and stifled.
"You'll always have my love, brother – even if you don't want it." The words seemed to slither from Kristoph's mouth, the way a snake slithers through the grass before it strikes its final victim.
Klavier only shook his head. "You're not who you used to be, Kristoph." He bowed his head, and Ema forced herself to look away – she couldn't tell if he was crying or not, but she didn't think she could bear seeing him do the former.
She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder – it was Mr. Wright.
"I think it's time to go."
The detention center lobby was bustling with people, quite a contrast to the stark jail cell that Ema had been in moments before. She slumped down into an armchair near the door and rested her head on her hand, only looking up when Phoenix sat down on the arm of the chair and gave her shoulder an awkward little pat.
"Why did we have to see that?" Ema said, more to herself than to anyone else. Her entire image of Klavier seemed to be crumbling away more and more by the minute, and she would do anything to keep it the way it had been.
"I figured Klavier would appreciate knowing he had … backup." Phoenix replied, catching Ema's eyes. "Besides, I wanted you to see what he's been going through. It's not easy for him, you know – I don't see how you can hate someone when they're in this state."
Ema was quiet for a moment, trying to sort out the hurricane of thoughts tumbling through her mind. What was it about Klavier that confused her so much? All she wanted was to hate him in peace – but then there were people like Mr. Wright, determined to convince her that she had been wrong all along.
"It's not that I hate him, necessarily – I just hate the way he acts sometimes."
Her answer seemed to satisfy Phoenix, who nodded. "I understand – but at least try and cut him some slack – for my sake, if not for his."
"But Mr. Wright – I'm sorry for asking, but – Klavier, he was the one who got your badge taken away … I don't see how you can be defending him now."
"I guess it's just that we both know how it feels to be manipulated by Kristoph," Mr. Wright answered quietly, looking off into space. "I've come to terms with what happened seven years ago – and I honestly only wish the best for Klavier. Besides, he needs all the support he can get, with a brother like that." Phoenix hopped off the edge of the chair and offered Ema his hand, pulling her up from her seat. "Forgive and forget, Ema. Forgive and forget."
As the two headed for the exit, Klavier Gavin walked into the lobby, handed something to the receptionist, and also started towards the door. Ema looked away from him almost instantly, avoiding his eyes and any other part of him, but Phoenix acknowledged him with a nod – and Klavier did the same, accenting his with one of his rare genuine smiles. He glanced at Ema for a moment, waiting to see if she would turn around; when she didn't, Klavier only smiled again to himself and mumbled something under his breath.
Of course, Ema was dead set upon staring straight ahead of her and missed the entire exchange, but if she had caught any of it, she would have heard Klavier mumble, "I wouldn't expect any less."
(A/N: So sorry about the major delay in updating this! College applications are the most awful, depressing, time-consuming things in the world, trust me.)