Title: Love is a Problematic Turnabout

Rating: M

Summary: Rogue Leissen is a 24-year-old girl that closely works with Kristoph Gavin as an assistant. He picked her up off the streets 12 years ago, and ever since she has held great affection for him. What happens when Kristoph needs an alibi will change history for the AA universe as we know it. Kristoph/Oc

A/Ns: I decided to try a different format of writing for Kristoph's P.O.V. I will only be doing it for his. Mostly this chapter will be focused on internal monologues, just like the first chapter.

I'm so pumped for Dual Destinies. I'M PUMPED, SO PUMPED, YEAH! I really really really want a hard copy though, so if I have to I'll buy an empty 3DS case off of Amazon and print out the Japanese cover and put it in there to pretend I have a hard copy. I'm so pathetic ;_; *sobs*

Anyways, enjoy my dear readers!

Chapter 3: Grape Juice, Anyone?

April 16, 7:30 AM

Kristoph Gavin's Apartment

Today, unfortunately, I have started my routine an hour late. Usually I begin the day with a warm cup of coffee and a quick read of a chapter of the current novel I am studying in my free time, but there's no available space for that now. However, there is one thing I always make time for, no matter if I become a minute or an hour late to work.

Honestly, it's not like it matters whether or not I am late to the Law Offices - I own the place, the firm, and that one imbecilic employee anyways. A loyal mutt, he is; I arrive late and tell him he was early, and he believes every lie that comes out of my mouth without even checking the evidence, like a clock for instance.

Unconcerned with whatever the time may be, every day I sit with Rogue for five minutes. Call me a meticulous man, but the length is no more, no less than exactly five minutes. I've tried to kick the habit, as for if she ever woke up while I was watching her it would most definitely cause various problems, but alas those tries have ultimately failed. Every day, she makes me go in there, makes me go watch her. I even took a picture of her - currently, I keep it in a frame in my personal office - once, to see if that was enough to keep myself from entering her chambers every early morning, but did not prove to sustain me and control my urges.

While I sit here, all primped and prepped for the day ahead in my pressed suit and coiled hair, I wonder why I have been avoiding her as of late. I have discovered that I really do not know the answer, and instead choose to wonder whether or not I should stop the silly game of charades I began a few months ago. Upon coming to this second question, I realize my daily allotted time is up, and I leave the room and my thinking along with it for another day.

April 16, 11:30 AM

Gavin Law Offices

Kristoph Gavin's Personal Office

The self-proclaimed steel-chorded imp bursts into my office with a belligerent announcement, ruining my method and stopping the productivity of completing this damned stack of paperwork. Sometimes owning your own business has its perks, other times it does not - I am self-assured that you can recognize which of those times this is right now.

"SIR, KLAVIER GAVIN IS HERE TO SEE YOU, SIR!" he shouted brashly. I had to put quite a bit of effort into restraining my brow from twitching in annoyance. Mien bruder, the perfect sibling, the unrestricted, above-the-law, despicable son of a bitch who thinks he can do whatever he wants, was here to see me? What an excellent surprise...

"Hmph," I muttered under my breath.

Not wanting to cause unwanted attention by stalling, I brought up my kind façade, rose my eyes from the stack of papers on my cherry brown desk while setting down my pen, and spoke to my fellow defense attorney.

"Please, Apollo - there is no need for such intensity. I am merely more than a few feet away from you."

He flushed a tad in embarrassment, and I chuckled at his expense.

"However, I thank you for the message. Send my brother in to see me, will you, please?"

He nodded, and ran out of the office like a mouse from a raven. I enjoy having that effect on people; "Coolest Defense in the West", you see. They run from me, afraid to face me - that is perfect intimidation. The only living, breathing human being that fails to be affected by such attribute of mine is Rogue.

Rogue, the young girl I found and took in on a whim twelve years ago. At the time, she was twelve and I myself was newly twenty; I kept her a secret, not wanting to damage my reputation with audacious claims from the beginning. I could tell right away that she became attached to me, but as the years have gone on and on, I am finding it harder to read her emotions. Although, when I found her, she was scared. Scared of being abandoned again, scared of living with a man who was not direct family. Eventually, she grew to adore me, and I her, and since then she's been the only person I could trust with absolutely everything. She saw, and still sees me for what I am - not Kristoph Gavin, the defense attorney, not Kristoph Gavin, the rock star's older brother, not Kristoph Gavin, the second best - she believes in me, supports me, and appreciates my company.

I believe it is about time I apologize for avoiding her so long, I actually have no idea when it started or why… Perhaps it was when I realiz-

"Kristoph," I was interrupted by the nasally voice of Klavier.

Sadly, I have an obligation to respond.

"Good Morning, Klavier; what brings you to my office on this fine day? Shouldn't you be out frolicking with the fräuleins instead of visiting your 'lame older brother'?" Oh yes, I do hear it when he talks about me. Especially in public - when you speak ill of someone in front of a crowd of millions, the words are bound to get around.

He doesn't answer me, and instead he walks around my desk and picks up the picture frame that lies next to my computer. I feel my temper rising as he stares at the half-dressed, sleeping form of Rogue that sits in that frame; I can feel the heat and steam rising from my body. I believe it would be in his best interests to set it down, now.

Somehow, he isn't as stupid as I perceived him - at least at this particular moment anyhow - and sets the frame back down, face down on my desk. He looks at me, a small pout resting on his lips, inversely arched eyebrows peering down at me.

"I met your girl, today, bruder," he starts, "she's quite nice. Where did you meet her?"

Ah, I see how it is… is that a twinge of jealousy I detect dear brother? A hint of anger added to spice up this meeting, a hint of anger because you think I do not deserve such a girl? Well, you're right - but I'll never tell you. I do not deserve such a girl, but I do deserve such a woman.

"I met her at a recent opening party at a local bookstore," what webs I spin, but I do not think he believes this one, "why do you ask?"

Klavier, the fool probably not caring to hear my answer anyways, has the nerve to lean against my desk and stare at my ceiling in ignorance to my reply. He blinks a few times, as if trying to comprehend something mentally challenging, and then sharply turns his head to observe me.

"How old is she?" the fool blurts.

I try to hold back a smile, "Old enough, Klavier. You, of all people, have a problem?"

"How old is she, Kristoph?" he asks once more, obviously unsatisfied with my provocations.

I try to feign innocence by sighing 'in defeat' and tell him that she's two years younger than he himself is.

"Eight years, then," he mutters, "Eight years is a large difference, Kristoph. Sie sollten wissen, dass."

I should know that? I should? He has the nerve…

We stay in silence for a bit longer before his famous self speaks again, this time pressing an issue that I do not take kindly to.

"She has a problem, Kris," one, do not call me that, bruder, "She has a problem," two, I do not like the inflection and your tone. It is quite degrading, but this time it's not only to myself.

"She does not have a dependency problem, or 'daddy issues', if that's what you're implying, Klavier," I respond in a dangerously low voice. I do not take kindly to those who insult her; why would I? Who would? Well, maybe her deadbeat parents who dropped her off on the side of a road near a major rapist gang gathering, but I suspect no humane human would do such a thing.

Rogue is a special girl, she means quite an immense amount to me; I love her like…

Hmm, that's interesting…

I cannot seem to say family.

"That's not what I meant, Kristoph, and you know it." Klavier trails off his fragment, and stares at my ceiling once more. The nerve…

I feel myself growing angry, but I can't seem to stop the venom from spewing. I stand up from my wheeled-chair and walk to the mini fridge located in the corner of my office. I reach for the necklace-token, forgetting I had left it behind at the apartment for Rogue to refill.

"Would you like something to drink, Klavier?"

He responds positively, taking a bottle of water before rushing out the door like nothing just happened here in this room. That is not necessarily a bad thing, seeing that if I had the necklace-token I most likely would have poisoned him for his incompetence, and that would have caused much larger problems than the trouble I will be stirring up later.

I take a refreshingly cold bottle of water out of the mini fridge and pour it into a drinking glass because of my own personal preferences. Buying bottles of water to drink when not on a trip is a waste, so when I do have one or two, I save them and reuse them - call me frugal, if you so desire.

I sit back down at my lovely desk to continue my required paperwork, but I am distracted by a beeping sound and vibration coming from one of my pockets. My phone is ringing; it's not Rogue, she was not instructed to call until nine. It could be a new client, but the 'Gavin Law Offices' are open, so I highly doubt that possibility. I check my messages.

TO: Kristoph Gavin

FROM: Phoenix Wright

SUBJECT: Dinner

MESSAGE: Hey, you wanna go to the Borscht Bowl Club again tonight? I got a big game coming up and I could use someone to relax with beforehand. Nothin' like a nice bottle of grape juice and some quasi-skilled piano playing, ne?

I laugh, out loud this time; this is the perfect opportunity that I've been waiting for… A two in one for me, Phoenix Wright and Zack Gramarye.

I'll see you there, Wright; perhaps for one of the last times.

April 16, 6:16 PM

Borscht Bowl Club

When you're invited to a location, you expect for the person who wanted you to come with them would be there. However, Phoenix Wright seems to be the exception to this rule of social etiquette - here I am, waiting for the hobo-freak to show by the piano all by my lonesome. There's nothing for me to do but wait patiently, so I settle and begin to think the day over.

My sources have told me that Zack Gramarye, under the name of Shadi Smith, will be arriving tonight to test Wright's skills - arriving to challenge him to a poker match. I am very grateful to come across this bit of information, as for I was able to assemble a plan to enact my revenge upon them both. The idiot does not even suspect a thing, inviting me here to meet with him, eat with him, talk with him; can one really be so incompetent?

My thoughts are interrupted by a shout of my name and the slamming of a chair close to me. When I look over, Phoenix Wright sits next to me, grape juice bottle in hand, with a wide smile on his face. Unshaven and dirty as usual, Wright starts to drink and babble about nonsense informally.

"Hey, Kristoph, what'cha been up to recently?" Wright inquires.

Ah, so I must once more participate in friendly conventions. I reply with a simple remark that I hope will hold him from questioning me for just a little while. "I ran into my brother earlier; that's about it. Klavier's doing quite well, if I must say."

His face twitches, probably reminiscing of the day he had his attorney's badge revoked by my brother's own hand - well, actually it was of my own doing, not his - but quickly regains his sloppy composure and continues to squawk about things that I really do not give a damn about.

"I've heard you're training someone, Kristoph." This bit of information catches my attention as a great opportunity to lay the groundwork for tonight's plan.

"Ah, yes; a young boy by the name 'Apollo Justice'. He's quite the card, you know."

"You sure know how to pick'em, Kristoph. You're friends with me, you're training a dweeb, what's next?"

"Who knows, Wright. The world is an unpredictable environment, you can only deal with things as they come," I pause, coming up with an excuse to change the topic. "How is your 'daughter' doing, Wright?"

"Aha, so formal, Krissy!" My eyebrow twitches in visible annoyance. This man dares to effeminate my name? Such tasteless humor, it's hard to believe he's older than Klavier, especially hard to acknowledge he's a year older than myself...

The two of us continue our discussion, which eventually leads back to the man with the vocal chords from hell.

"Did you teach him well?"

I suppress my laughter as a cough. Does he even need to ask?

"I believe so, but I cannot count my chickens before they hatch; young Justice has yet to hold his own in a trial, or even participate in one. He's watched plenty beside me, but has not ever defended a client of his own."

"Hmm… I wonder when he'll get the opportunity," he pauses, then continues, "It will probably be soon, won't it?"

"Yes, probably," and you, dear friend, will be his client.

April 16th, 9:01 PM

Borscht Bowl Club

Hydeout Secret Room

The game between Phoenix Wright and 'Shadi Smith', Zack Gramarye, has just begun barely past nine o'clock. Rogue has rung, and as directed, has not left a message when I did not pick up. Currently I find myself wedged between close, dusty walls in a secret passage to the Hydeout in the Borscht Bowl Club for the sake of revenge, lying in wait to pounce like a lion at the correct moment. With me here is an empty bottle of Grape Juice for the sake of the framing - it would be quick and easy, kill Gramarye and then switch the bottle with one with Wright's finger prints. Wright believes I have left an hour ago, which technically I did; going out the front door and returning through the back.

"Almost eight already, I believe I must return to my residence soon," I say as I look down at my silver watch. According to my information, Gramarye should be arriving any minute now, and it would be easier to catch a peek of him if we walked by each other near the entrance. "Are you facing a challenger tonight, Wright?" I ask in order to clear any lingering suspicions.

Wright finishes downing his sixth bottle of grape juice and nods. "Yeah, some guy named Shadi Smith."

Check.

"Heard he's a real magic fanatic, but other than that, I know nothing about the guy." His eyes ever so slightly drift - but that could be because of his juice - however, over the past seven years I have noted Wright's nervous habits, which this is one of.

Mate.

"Well, I bid you farewell and good luck my friend," I smile kindly at him, masking my true intentions. Going in for the punch, I add, "If there's anything you need, anything, please don't hesitate to call."

Wright takes one last swig of his drink before standing up to move towards the Hydeout.

"No, problem, sure'll do Kristoph," he pauses, "It's nice to have a friend that's always there, isn't it."

Yes, always Wright. Always. "I suppose… See you again soon Wright."

Wright watches my body exit the building while I watch Gramarye enter, old and balding. He doesn't take notice of me, merely continues on to meet with his poker opponent; if only he'd paid a morsel of respect to me….

The duel begins after the deck is shuffled, poker faces surfacing on the two men. No sound is heard except for the occasional flutter of the cards or the stacking of the value chips. A woman is with the two men who are playing the card game - I've seen her around the club, but unlike the way she's dressed, she's not a waitress here but merely a hired pawn by Gramarye to cheat Wright into making it look like he cheated. However, this is not an affair I am interested in, so as my eyelids droop down, I am not concerned about missing anything significantly important.

April 17th, unknown AM

Borscht Bowl Club

Hydeout Secret Room

I awaken to screaming and the incredibly loud sound of an individual being hit and thrown. From what I gather, the plot to make Wright seem as if he was cheating has failed and Gramarye has spun into an uncontrollable rage, tossing the woman to the wayside and knocking her out in the process.

"Man, what the FUCK did you DO?" screamed Wright, concerned about the state of the hired dealer.

"You were there, don't ask stupid questions you failure of an attorney!"

Wright just shook his head, bolted out of the room, and up the stairs, presumably to calm down or to call for help… If the latter was true, I may as well make my move now as my target sits down in a swivel chair unaccompanied - no better time than now to do so.

My hands are cold as I grasp the bottle and so is my heart, however the rest of my body has blood pumping feverously in excitement, adrenaline spiking and peaking like crazy; how long has it been since I felt this rush, this way, this exponentially growing pleasure? It sends signals to certain areas of my body… oh how I enjoy the fulfillment high murder brings.

I push open the secret door, other arm raised with the weapon, and bring the bottle down to strike Gramarye. He turns to me, meets my eyes, and I see a flash of recognition cross his face but it's a little bit too late for that.

Kill him, Kristoph! Kill him now! More, more, more, moremoremoremoremoremore! Make it hurt, make him suffer; make him never forget what he did to you! He deserves it, Kristoph! KILL HIM!

The touch, the feel, the rush, the appeal, the delectable sounds of him whimpering in pain; he's too easy to resist. Kick him, punch him, smash him, rip him to shreds! Feel him crumble beneath your hands. You mustn't let him live, Kristoph. KILL HIM!

Make him scream, make him beg you for forgiveness. This is how you kill someone, make the blood spurt everywhere! Bash him in, leave your mark, make it hurt, make him suffer, more, more, more, more, moremoremoremoremore! Kill him, Kristoph! KILL HIM!

The first time I, the day I got that scar…

By the time I look down, by the time my devil's scar stops throbbing, and by the time I am able to resist hitting Gramarye multiple times causing thick blood spatter, I notice that a small drop of blood has traveled down the back of his head and fallen to rest on the table.

On a card.

Giving away the entrance the Wright would have had to come in to murder him.

Shit.

No, I cannot leave any evidence behind, I will not accept defeat! I pluck the card from the hand on the table, stuff it into my jacket pocket, and find a card of the same number and suit and replace the bloodied one. Panicked, I spun Gramarye's chair back around to face the poker table and place his felt hat back on his head to hide the damage.

It's not enough, it's not enough! There must be something else, something else… the passage! The passage must be disguised, how had I forgotten? There's no more time, I can hear Wright's heavy footsteps storming around at the restaurant at ground level…

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a large cupboard. 'This shall do, it must do!' Thankfully, a strap was located on the back, allowing me to pick it up quickly and move it to be located in front of the secret passage. In the process, I knocked Gramarye's hat to the floor, not bothering to pick it up and replace it on his balding forehead. Leaving the bottle at the scene, I scurry in to the passage, pulling the small, hidden door closed behind me, also pulling the cupboard's strap to bring it in close to the wall.

As soon as I finished my movements, Wright comes scurrying down the stairs and barges into the room void of life to meet an unpleasant sight.

"Fuck!"

I begin my final exit, passing through the dusty, musty caverns of the Hydeout's Secret Passage to reach the restaurant's level and slip out the back door before Wright has a chance to view my figure and cast suspicion upon myself. The brisk walk back to the apartment is crucial; I must be out of hearing range and out of sight before the police come to the scene or Wright calls to request my assistance on the matter.

"If there's anything you need, anything, please don't hesitate to call."

"No, problem, sure'll do Kristoph."

As if on cue, my cell rings and successfully draws my attention away from thoughts. Remembering to feign innocence and obliviousness, I pick up the phone after a few rings and prepare to speak in a tired voice.

"Kristoph, I seem to be in a bit of trouble."

"What's this?" I yawn, "Game not going well?"

"Something like that."

"That gentleman who challenged you… he turned out to be good?" Of course he was, I lost to him myself.

Wright's voice picks up a grizzly tone, like a demon commander angry at his soldiers. "He turned out to be dead. Someone hit him. Hard."

I no longer control my face expressions and let a wide smirk paint itself across my visage. "You mean someone cracked that flawless bone china pate?" It took me less than a single second to comprehend the invaluable mistake I had just made. No, no, nononononononononono!

"It… wasn't you, was it?" I know he caught on to my mistake, how could I have…

"Me? Please. The cops should be here any minute. I'm in your hands… Should it come to that."

He hangs up on me, leaving me uncertain. However, even with the mistake, I have set up a fail-safe alibi as a precaution if Wright does indeed connect the dots. I couldn't have killed a man around two o'clock in the morning if arrived home at nine o'clock and was too busy spending the night making love to my girlfriend, now could I? I must admit, I never thought Rogue would come in handy once again as she is no longer making forgeries as I have requested.

As I complete my journey back to my apartment, I cannot seem to shake off that feeling - that pleasant rush - from the murder. It feels so familiar, so long time in coming.

Oh how I cannot wait to get my hands on her to take care of my little problem.

April 17th, 2:30 AM

Kristoph Gavin's Apartment

Kristoph Gavin's Room

I throw open the door to my room and am faced with an excellent surprise. There she is, lying in her beauty atop my bed in wait. Well, now with the noise, she seems a bit frightened.

Doesn't matter.

She shakes, calls my name, and only adds fuel to the fire. Does it seem like I'm in the mood for talking? You stupid fräulein.

She's scared, I can tell.

Doesn't matter.

She's nervous, I can tell.

Doesn't matter.

She's never done something of this caliber, of any caliber, before.

Doesn't matter.

In the end, I always get what I want. I want to not be convicted, I want an alibi, I want to get off.

What she wants doesn't matter. It doesn't matter right now.

I climb on top of her, my coil loosening from the abrupt movement. When entering the house I shed the gloves next to the sink for them to be burned, so as I touch her my cold hands send shivers through her body. I apply pressure on the junction between her chest and neck with one hand to hold her still while removing my pink necktie.

What she wants doesn't matter. It doesn't matter right now.

In the end, I always succeed. I see her tremble, but it doesn't matter what it's from - no time to concern myself with that at this exact moment. In the end, I always get what I want.

"Rogue, I'm going to fuck you."

Kristoph, you really gave me hell on this one… You're so difficult to write!

I hope you readers aren't too mad at me with the liberties I took with his personality. I think that Kristoph has some secret dark past or something, so I tried to incorporate that a bit into his mind frame. Please, tell me what you think!

Reviewers are awesome and are much appreciated!

Finally, next chapter, we get down to the good stuff! (Or at least in my opinion, Kristoph is sexy with his hair down and wild, angry personality so it's the good stuff for me.)

I know I'm not putting translations, but most of them are simple; bruder = brother, Klavier uses fräulein in the game so, O.O you have to know that already (if not I'm so sorry! Don't be mad at me!). There was a sentence in German, courtesy of Google Translate, which was surrounded with context clues. However, here is the translalalallalallalalaltionionion.

Sie sollten wissen, dass. = You should know that.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!