The Devil's Turnabout

Chapter 3

HOKAY. senior projects are done, I think I'm back 

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January 21st, 2027

Apollo was instants away from revoking the no more shoving rule.

"How'd you get arrested?" Apollo cried before he had even sat down, fully intent on rage- at himself, Klavier, circumstance- until Klavier settled in the chair across from him.

Klavier was ragged. It wasn't often he looked anything but photo ready, but today he was nothing short of a mess. His hair pooled over his shoulders, stringy and tangled, and his bangs drifted into his red, sunken eyes. He looked so much smaller than usual, a confusing trick of the eye until Apollo realized he was missing his necklace, sunglasses, and coat.

It was looking at Klavier then- lively, vibrant Klavier, reduced to a pale living corpse- that Apollo was reminded of the bedside manner he usually adopted with his defendants.

"You look awful," is what he decided to say, delicately.

Klavier snorted. "Danke."

Too many questions spun in Apollo's head- where had Klavier been? What had happened?

"Are you alright?" he asked instead.

Klavier closed his eyes. "I quite believe you have already answered this question, Herr Forehead."

Alright, it was a stupid thing to ask. He probably felt as awful as he looked.

"You just seemed... so calm, on the phone just then. I expected... something else."

Apollo remembered well the pout on Klavier's face after his concert went awry, the snippy comments and accusations flying from his lips. Whatever fire had burned then was long gone. There was nothing behind Klavier's big blue eyes as they leveled to the floor.

"Truthfully, I am not feeling much." He admitted.

It seemed almost like that day in October, at Vera Misham's trial, but so, so much worse. At least then Klavier's pain had come with his usual flair. There was something dull and shattered about the man before Apollo now.

"Please," he begged, leaning forwards. "Tell me everything."

Klavier chewed on his lip, a move probably practiced for a sexy flourish onstage, but here his teeth dug into skin with too much force.

"Stupid." He said. "I've been stupid."

"It wasn't your fault," Apollo said. "Whatever it was."

"I would hardly know- whether it is my fault, or even what it was." Klavier snarled, throwing his hands up. "Verdamt! I cannot remember!"

"You..." Apollo searched for words, but only ended up parroting Klavier's back to him. "You can't remember?"

He'd never encountered an amnesiac defendant- though with his luck, it was only a matter of time. Yet, Apollo never would have expected this from Klavier.

Then again, Apollo thought, rubbing a hand against his head, he never would have expected to be defending Klavier at all.

Klavier had to have a good memory, though- he worked two jobs, and both at an impressive level. How could he forget something so important?

"Nein. Nothing at all." Klavier shook his head. "I awoke with blood on my hands, and someone shouting for the police."

Apollo sighed. He'd been so grateful, imagining that Klavier would be his first cooperative defendant. It was just his luck that the man would remember nothing at all of the actual crime.