foxysquidalso: (apollo)
[personal profile] foxysquidalso
Title: In Loco Parentis (1/2) [Part two]
Pairings: Kristoph/Apollo, Phoenix/Apollo
Other characters: Edgeworth, Klavier (sort of), Trucy, Vongole
Rating: R
Word count: 11,900
Warnings: a bad mentor figure abuses his position, sexual situations (but no minors involved in them), hints of weird brother fixation.
Summary: At seventeen, having spent much of his life in foster care and group homes, Apollo has all but given up on finding a permanent family. Things are about to change.
Notes: Written for [ profile] gyaku_flash for [ profile] aphephobia. Of course, it's not my intention to demonize the foster care system (even though it has its problems, like any system). This is just about Kristoph, who is not typical in any way, of anything. :) And super special thanks to [ profile] pandir for helping me with the tiny bit of German in this. Ja, she's the best German language expert I know, nicht wahr? ;3

He'd been so excited about today, he wasn't sure how he'd managed to get so far behind schedule. He should have been ready by now. Maybe the problem was that he was so excited, he was finding it difficult to focus on the task at hand. Apollo splashed water on his face and washed it hurriedly, realizing too late that he should have done that before putting his shirt on, as the red fabric was splattered with darker red water spots. They'd dry quickly, at least.

"Apollo?" Mrs. Seward's voice called to him through the door.

"I'm almost done!"

"Come down as soon as you're ready. We'll be waiting." Her tone was patient.

It took him another minute or two. "Sorry," he said, as he burst from his room and nearly collided with one of the home's other residents, a tall boy he didn't know well, as he'd lived at the Sunshine Youth Development Center for no more than three months.

As promised, Mrs. Seward was waiting for him in the common area, seated on the worn but very comfortable old blue couch that took up most of one wall. Across from her, on the stiffer but more presentable arm chair, a man was sitting. He glanced up and smiled as Apollo descended.

"Here he is now," said Mrs. Seward, with a fond look at Apollo. Mrs. Seward was more than twice his age, and a bit flighty, but she was probably the person at the center Apollo felt closest to. "He's been so excited about meeting you!"

This sounded so painfully uncool that Apollo's face reddened. He decided not to comment on her statement, instead saying simply, "Hi, it's nice to meet you," as he took the last two stairs at once.

The man rose from his seat, and Apollo found himself raising his head to look up at him. Wow, he was tall. "Hi," Apollo said again, before remembering he'd already said it.

"Hello, Apollo. I've been looking forward to our meeting as well." The man closed the distance between them, unhurriedly. "Kristoph Gavin," he introduced himself with a nod. When he stretched out his hand, Apollo took it.

"Thanks so much for agreeing to mentor me," said Apollo, hoping that the words didn't sound stilted or forced. He'd never had a mentor before, so he didn't know exactly what he was supposed to say in a situation like this.

"It's my pleasure. It's wonderful to find a young person with so much enthusiasm for the law. In fact, it's positively inspiring. When I heard about you, I felt it was practically imperative that I do what I could to help you."

"Thanks," said Apollo again. "I really appreciate that, Mr. Gavin."

"I hope you two have a wonderful time," said Mrs. Seward, beaming in delight.

"I'm sure we will," said Mr. Gavin, beaming back.


"So," said Mr. Gavin, smiling at him across the table. "Apollo. What was it that made you decide that you wanted to become, not just any lawyer, but a defense attorney?"

Mr. Gavin had taken him out to lunch at a restaurant. A nice restaurant--much nicer than he'd been expecting. The waiters were wearing ties. Apollo felt out of place in his red t-shirt and jeans, but Mr. Gavin didn't seem to notice. "It's a silly story."

"I'm sure it isn't, if it inspired such a fine dream." Mr. Gavin took a sip of his drink.

Apollo nervously adjusted the napkin he'd laid across his lap. If Mr. Gavin wanted him to tell the story, he would. "When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a fireman, or a doctor. I wanted a job where I got to save people. I thought lawyers were all right, but I'd never considered being one. Then, one day, I read this story in the paper. It was about a defense attorney who'd taken a real high-profile case nobody thought he could win. But he proved his client innocent and uncovered this whole conspiracy!"

Warming to his subject matter, Apollo began to forget his nervousness. "It was one of the most amazing things I'd ever read about. So I looked him up online, and I found out he'd done so much to help people, and--I thought it would be cool if I could do that, too."

Mr. Gavin nodded and smiled. "That isn't a silly story at all. What was the lawyer's name?"

"Well--" Apollo hesitated, his excitement fading. "It was Phoenix Wright."

"I thought it might be. He did some fine things in his time. It's a shame about what happened."


"As a matter of fact, I know Mr. Wright quite well."

Apollo regarded Mr. Gavin with wide eyes. He'd never met someone who'd met Mr. Wright before. He didn't know a great deal about him, outside of what he'd read online, though he had read a lot. "Really?"

"Indeed. We were colleagues for a time, after all."

"That makes sense. Is he--what's he like?"

"I'm afraid he's not what you probably imagine him to be. He's changed a great deal since he was disbarred."

"Yeah? I guess that's not too surprising."

"Although I do hope you haven't judged your erstwhile hero too harshly. Everyone makes mistakes. Even if he were guilty of the act he was charged with, I don't doubt that he thought he was doing what was right."

"You don't think he forged the evidence?"

"I don't believe so. But if he did, his motives were certainly pure, even if his methods were questionable."

"That's good." No, that that didn't sound quite right. "I mean, at least his motives were good. I don't approve of forging evidence. I'd never do that. Not ever."

"Of course you wouldn't," said Mr. Gavin. "I can already tell that you're an exceptionally honest young man. That's a wonderful trait."

"Thanks, Mr. Gavin."

The waiter arrived with their orders, interrupting their conversation. Mr. Gavin thanked the man, then talked to him about the food and directed him to rearrange the dishes on the table. When everything was placed in such a way that Mr. Gavin was satisfied and the waiter left, Mr. Gavin returned his attention to Apollo again. "Does everything look good?"

"Everything's great, thanks!" He felt like he was saying thanks an awful lot. He hoped Mr. Gavin didn't think he was weird or anything.

"That's good. I hope you enjoy it."

Apollo started to eat, and Mr. Gavin began to talk again. Apollo hoped he would talk about Mr. Wright some more, but he had dropped the subject. "If you'd like, we can go by my office after lunch."

"I'd really like that. Thanks." Oh no, he'd said it again.

If Mr. Gavin noticed, it didn't appear to bother him. "The office is closed today, but that's no reason I can't show you around."

"After all, it's your office, right? You can do what you want."

"I certainly can." Mr. Gavin laughed softly, and Apollo was pleased that he'd managed to amuse him. "Obviously, there won't be any cases today, but I'm sure I'll be able to take you to one soon."

"Wow, really? Thanks!" Apollo almost cringed at his own words this time. Not again.

"Think nothing of it. I am mentoring you. It's my responsibility to encourage you, to nourish that spark of passion inside you, your admirable love for the law."

Apollo wasn't going to say thanks again. This time, he was determined. Unless he really had to do it, because Mr. Gavin passed him the salt or something like that. No more unnecessary thanks, though. It was getting to be too much. "I'd love to see one of your cases. It sounds like so much fun."

"I hope you'll think so once you've seen one. I certainly find it--fun, as you put it. The law is always so fascinating, so invigorating."

Apollo could hardly believe this was happening to him. Not only had he been given a mentor, but his mentor was a real, practicing defense attorney with his own office, who was going to take him to court. "I think so, too." Apollo reached out to pick up his water to take a drink. To his surprise, Mr. Gavin moved to take his wrist. Apollo froze. It wasn't exactly a touch. Mr. Gavin's fingers didn't meet his skin. They settled on the metal of his bracelet, instead.

"Oh, what's this?" Mr. Gavin asked.

"Just my bracelet," said Apollo. Not that that was a very helpful answer, as it was undeniably a bracelet. "It used to belong to my mother. At least, that's what they told me. I don't remember her at all."

"It's a lovely object. I'm interested in antique jewelry."

"Do you think it is? Antique, I mean?" Mr. Gavin was staring intently at his bracelet, still holding it. He seemed a little eccentric, but Apollo didn't have a problem with that. Eccentric people made life interesting, didn't they?

"Yes," said Mr. Gavin. "I think I've seen one like it before."

"You have? Is it worth a lot of money or something?" Apollo laughed. "Maybe I should get it insured," he joked.

"No, it's quite worthless," said Mr. Gavin, letting it go. "But it's quite pleasing to the eye. A beautiful design." He looked up from it at last and held Apollo's gaze, his pale eyes bright behind his glasses.

"Thanks," said Apollo, distracted enough by Mr. Gavin's gaze that he'd forgotten all about his determination not to thank him again. It was easy to be distracted by Mr. Gavin, and he had so much to thank him for. Apollo hoped Mr. Gavin would want to keep mentoring him. He was still worried that something might happen to make him change his mind. He didn't have the best luck with people. Maybe his luck had changed.


Mr. Gavin didn't abandon him, even though he said thank you too much and blurted out things when he didn't mean to because he was nervous. Mr. Gavin was wonderful. He took Apollo to court with him. He explained everything to him patiently. He listened to whatever Apollo had to say. He was so nice.

Apollo noticed that at times, his behavior could be slightly erratic--for instance, he'd say odd things that didn't quite follow from the conversation, but that was more endearing than worrisome. It was a kind of absent-mindedness, which made him less intimidating. He could certainly be intimidating: a towering blond man in a slate blue suit. He stood out wherever they went. People always turned to look at him, but Mr. Gavin walked on, facing front, and hardly seemed to notice as he slid through whatever crowd or gathering he was in, cool and blue and unshakable.

"Would you care to stop by my house?" Mr. Gavin asked him after one of their court dates.

"Sure I would," said Apollo, without needing to think about it.

"I thought we could have tea together. There's no need to hurry back to the home, is there?"

"Not at all." Apollo didn't want to go back. His times with Mr. Gavin were so different from life at the center. It wasn't that he hated the center, but spending time with his mentor made it more clear to him how little he had in common with the other guys there, and even Mrs. Seward, as kind as she was. He didn't connect to any of them, and he couldn't really talk to them, although that was hardly a novel feeling for him.

Mr. Gavin's home was a beautiful, pale townhouse with wide, open shutters. They passed through a tall gate to reach it. The narrow rectangle of lawn in front of the house was full of greenery, but it didn't seem crowded, the bushes and trees keeping a respectful distance from each other.

"Do you live here by yourself?" Apollo asked. Only as he looked upon the house did he think to wonder about Mr. Gavin's home life. Mr. Gavin hadn't mentioned living with anyone, so Apollo had assumed he hadn't, but the man rarely talked about personal matters.

"Not quite," he said, with a small smile.

He didn't clarify, and Apollo felt rude asking if he didn't want to volunteer the information. Did he have a girlfriend? It wouldn't be surprising if he did. He was friendly and successful. Apollo wondered if he'd see whoever it was, but Mr. Gavin probably would have mentioned it if the other person was home.

Yet as soon as they were in the door, Mr. Gavin announced, "I'm home!"

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Apollo was confused until he heard a soft whine from a nearby room. "You have a dog!"

The whine was followed by a series of high-pitched barks. "That's right. If you don't mind, I'll check on her before I make our tea. And please, take your shoes off." Mr. Gavin was already stepping out of his own shoes.

"No, I don't mind. A dog's more important than tea," said Apollo, as he pulled off his sneakers, then followed Mr. Gavin into his living room. The furniture in the house was as well-spaced as the trees and bushes outside. Everything was orderly and bright. Apollo smiled, feeling calm. He'd always preferred neat surroundings. The youth center, though clean enough, generally looked like what it was: a house with a group of teenage boys living in it. Apollo tried to keep his own space tidy, but the area over which he had control was limited. Mr. Gavin's home wasn't merely clean. It was cared for, loved.

Even the dog's cage in the corner was immaculate and spacious, though the dog inside it was small and lively. "A puppy," said Apollo, grinning. It was a golden retriever with big brown eyes and bigger paws. It barked again as it saw Mr. Gavin approaching its cage.

"That's right. I've never had a dog before, but the house was starting to feel so empty." Mr. Gavin opened the cage, and the puppy bounded out, wriggling. "Wait here, Apollo. I'll be right back. I need to take her out."

Obediently, Apollo sat on the couch as Mr. Gavin put a harness on the puppy and led her from the room. He had to stifle a smile at the sight of the big blond man and the small yellow dog walking together.

Once he was alone, he took the opportunity to examine the room more closely. There was no television, but there was at least one bookshelf on every wall, and an antique gramophone with a beautiful bronze horn. Craning his neck, Apollo tried to read the titles of the books on the shelves from where he was sitting. He would have felt rude walking through Mr. Gavin's house while Mr. Gavin wasn't actually in it, although he was sure his mentor wouldn't have minded. A large percentage of the books seemed to be law books, expectedly, but there were more than a few novels. He recognized Herman Hesse, Ayn Rand, and Dostoevsky. There were books in German and Italian, too, the titles of which he couldn't read.

"Thank you for waiting, Apollo," said Mr. Gavin, when he returned. "She's very nearly housetrained, but we're at a delicate point."

"I wouldn't want to get in the way of training," said Apollo. "Can I hold her?"

"You certainly can." Mr. Gavin picked up the dog and lowered her into Apollo's lap. The dog seemed very happy about this turn of events and wasted no time in licking his hands and face.

"What's her name?" Apollo asked, laughing.


"Is that Italian?"

"It is."

"What does it mean?"

"Clams. I named her after my favorite dish, Spaghetti alle Vongole. I'm particularly fond of Neapolitan cuisine."

"Aw, Clams. That's cute." He stroked the very soft fur of her head. "Hi, Clams!"

"Please call the dog Vongole, Apollo," Mr. Gavin said quickly.

Apollo glanced up at him. "Sorry."

Mr. Gavin was smiling. "There's nothing to apologize for. It's simply important for her to grow accustomed to her name."

"That makes sense. I don't know a lot about dog training. Hi, Vongole." She nibbled on his finger, and he laughed again.

Mr. Gavin reached down to gently correct her, separating Apollo's hand from the dog's mouth. He tapped her muzzle. "Don't bite." Leaning down to take the dog back, he looked into Apollo's eyes. "I'll return Vongole to her crate and make us some tea, all right?"

Apollo nodded, mutely.

"If you'd like to wash your hands first," he added, "the washroom is right down the hall."

Apollo assumed that meant he was expected to wash his hands, so he rose to do just that.

Mr. Gavin's china tea set looked so expensive and breakable, Apollo felt nervous at the sight of it, but he steeled himself. Mr. Gavin set the tray down on the coffee table. In addition to tea, sugar, and cream, there was a small plate of cookies on the tray. Apollo reached for one, as Mr. Gavin seated himself on the other side of the couch. "I'd like to have a serious discussion with you, Apollo."

Apollo froze, his hand halfway to the cookies, his sense of calm dissipating. A serious discussion, in his experience, was rarely a good thing.

"Please," said Mr. Gavin, noticing his hesitation. "Help yourself."

Apollo took a cookie, but he no longer felt hungry. He took a bite to be polite. "What did you want to talk about, Mr. Gavin?"

Mr. Gavin was leaning over to pour the tea from the pot into their cups. "Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please."

Mr. Gavin narrowed his eyes fondly. "I thought as much." He didn't address the matter of their serious discussion until both cups of tea were properly prepared. "Mrs. Seward tells me that you had some difficulties with your last foster parents?"

Apollo's throat tightened at the memory, but he saw no reason to deny it, especially if Mrs. Seward had already said something about it. "It wasn't any big deal, but yes."

"Why wasn't it a 'big deal'? You were expelled from the the foster care system and placed in a halfway home."

"That's true, but I don't mind the center so much, and I was only put there because it's hard to find foster parents for a kid my age. With--problems."

"Could you explain these problems to me?"

"I got in a fight. With my foster parents." Apollo didn't think it was relevant to being mentored. He wished Mrs. Seward hadn't said anything. He didn't want to lose Mr. Gavin. "I was too hostile, and they didn't want me anymore. But that's the only thing I did wrong."

"I was told you broke something?"

Apollo nodded and put down what was left of the cookie he'd been eating. "I broke a door because I punched it." It sounded ridiculous and dramatic when he said it out loud. He wasn't that strong. It had been an old door, and he'd been angry.

"What was the fight about?" Mr. Gavin asked.

"I was upset with them. They were really religious, and they wanted me to go to church, but I didn't want to go. Not that I have a problem with religious people, I just--"

"There was something else, wasn't there?"

"Yes," Apollo admitted. He pushed his hand back over his hair. He shouldn't be nervous about saying it. It was completely normal, and he had no reason to feel ashamed. "I told them I was gay, and they didn't like it. Not that they were abusive, but they told me that it was a phase and I should go to counseling. I didn't want to go. So we kept fighting about it, and I got angry."

"Do you often get angry?" Mr. Gavin asked. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. His gaze was steady, his expression mild.

"Sometimes," Apollo said, glancing down. "I don't know why."

"It's completely understandable," said Mr. Gavin. "You have emotional issues that haven't been dealt with. You've been through a difficult time, and I'm sure you haven't received adequate treatment."

"Maybe," said Apollo, who hadn't exactly thought about it that way before.

"I think you're very brave."

"You do?"

"I do. To come out at your age, without a strong social support system--it's quite inspiring. I'm gay myself, and I found it difficult to come out, even in a much more supportive environment."

"Really?" He hadn't known Mr. Gavin was gay, but then, there'd been no reason for him to bring it up.

"Yes, both things are true. I am gay, and it is quite admirable of you, Apollo. You're a remarkable young man."

"Thanks, Mr. Gavin." He glanced away, his face heating. "I didn't do anything so special. I didn't want to lie, that's all."

"That in and of itself is admirable. I'd like to ask you a question, Apollo."

"You can ask me whatever you want, Mr. Gavin."

"I'm sorry for bringing up such an uncomfortable subject and possibly causing you some distress, but I had a reason for doing so. I wished to hear your explanation of the incident in question, and I'm entirely satisfied by your response. So I'd like to ask you, how would you feel about me becoming your new foster parent?"

Apollo stared. At first, he didn't feel anything except shock. He'd been resigned to spending the rest of the time until he turned eighteen at the center. It wasn't the worst place he'd lived, but it wasn't anything like a home. As he considered Mr. Gavin's offer and all it meant, Apollo's surprise didn't fade, but a second emotion soon came to join it. He was happy. "I'd like that a lot, Mr. Gavin."


Mr. Gavin was an influential man as well as a lawyer, and the bureaucracy of the foster care system moved quickly for him. Apollo's social worker was pleased with the new turn of events, and when he met with Apollo and Mr. Gavin he didn't so much interview Mr. Gavin as thank him profusely. On the day Apollo left the center, Mrs. Seward said goodbye to him with tears in her eyes, but they were glad tears.

Mr. Gavin's first act was to remove him from the public school system. "Your education has been sorely neglected," he explained. "I can do a much better job of seeing that you're both instructed and enlightened. We have a lot of catching up to do to prepare you for college, and the matter is too important to trust to the kind of personnel generally employed by the city schools. There's been a steep decline in the quality of teaching in the past decade or so."

"Are you sure you have time to do that, Mr. Gavin? I don't mind going to the regular school." Apollo was still unpacking his suitcase when Mr. Gavin brought the subject up.

"It won't be any hardship for me. On the contrary, it will be a pleasure. I'll hire a tutor for those subjects I don't have the time or inclination to teach."

"Okay, that sounds great." He didn't have any particular attachment to the school he was attending. Maybe being home schooled would be fun.

"We'll have to buy you some new clothes, too." Mr. Gavin eyed the contents of Apollo's suitcase as he transferred them to the drawers in his new room.

"Yeah, most of these are pretty old."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find no shortage of attractive red garments for you to wear."

Apollo laughed. "I don't want to mess with a good thing. Red's always been my favorite. It brings me luck."

"A lucky color? How charmingly superstitious."

"Well--it doesn't always work, that's for sure."

"More often than not, I hope."

Apollo grinned. "It seems to be working lately."

"I'm pleased to hear that." Mr. Gavin laid a hand on his shoulder, briefly. "I'll leave you to get settled in here. This is your private room. I don't want to interfere too much."

"Mr. Gavin?" Apollo called out as he was walking away.


"Should I just call you--Mr. Gavin?"

He paused, resting his hand on the door frame as he considered. "That would be fine, Apollo."

Left on his own, Apollo looked out the window at the carefully cultivated lawn below. It was his window. This was his room. He held on tight to the lucky red shirt he was holding, closed his eyes, and wished for his luck to last.

Not long after Apollo moved in, he heard the home phone in the study start to ring, something he had never heard it do before. Mr. Gavin took his calls on his cell phone or at his office. Apollo wasn't sure why he had a landline at home if he didn't use it, but Mr. Gavin must have had his reasons. Mr. Gavin wasn't home, and instinct drew Apollo to the ringing phone. Once he reached it, however, he felt too awkward about answering the phone in Mr. Gavin's house. He let it keep ringing.

On the next ring, the machine picked up. Mr. Gavin's recorded message played, politely inviting the caller to leave a message of their own. Then the machine beeped.

"Hello, Kristoph, it's me," a voice said. It was a man's voice, accented, although Apollo couldn't immediately identify what kind of accent it was. "I haven't heard from you in a while, so I thought I'd give you a call and see how you're doing. How are you? Call me back. Ich liebe dich. Bis dann." That part at the end was definitely German. The man hung up.

Apollo wondered who that had been. A family member, or maybe someone Mr. Gavin had been dating? He felt guilty for having listened to it, though he hadn't meant to do anything wrong. The caller must have known Mr. Gavin well. Apollo knew just enough German to know what Ich liebe dich meant. Whoever the man was, he had sounded sad.

The incident, although mildly interesting, didn't hadn't left any great impression on Apollo. He would have forgotten about it, if not for what happened later that night. He got up to go to the bathroom, and he was almost there, when he heard a noise from downstairs. Pausing in the dark hallway, he listened. It was a familiar sound, but he couldn't identify it until he'd heard it again. It was the beep of the answering machine.

He hadn't heard the phone ring. He waited, curious, and the beep sounded again. That was odd. Was there something wrong with the machine? Apollo crept down the stairs. He peeked into the study. Mr. Gavin was standing there, with his back to the door. Apollo opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Mr. Gavin pushed a button on the machine, causing yet another beep. A recording played.

Hello, Kristoph, it's me. I haven't heard from you in a while, so I thought I'd give you a call and see how you're doing. How are you? Call me back. Ich liebe dich. Bis dann.

Once the message had finished playing, Apollo had lost his desire to speak. There was something wrong. He took a step back, and Mr. Gavin pushed the button on the machine again.

Hello, Kristoph, it's me.

Apollo hurried away and back up the stairs, hoping to make it back to his room without Mr. Gavin realizing that he had overheard. He hopped back into bed, forgetting his previous need to visit the bathroom. He felt like he'd spied on something very private. Maybe the man on the phone had been someone Mr. Gavin had dated, as he'd guessed it might be, and he'd been upset to hear from him. He'd been so still and calm, standing there without making a sound as he'd listened to the message over and over again.

That was the first time he'd ever witnessed Mr. Gavin being anything other than pleasant, and he hadn't really seen him, since Mr. Gavin's back had been to him. Now that he was living with him, it was possible he would see him lose his famed cool more often. No one could be like that all the time, could they?

Mr. Gavin seemed to be. He never raised his voice or lost his temper. His suits were always crisp, his long hair smooth.

"Your tie should be more of a complementary color," he said, as he held a tie up to Apollo's new suit. "It creates a striking effect and leaves a good impression."

"Really?" asked Apollo, looking down at the blue tie. "I was thinking maybe black."

"Oh no, that wouldn't do at all. Believe me." He looped the tie around Apollo's neck, then tied it. Apollo remained motionless, letting him work. When he was done, Mr. Gavin stepped back and admired the result. "Very nice. You look quite handsome."

Apollo tried not to laugh stupidly and blush at the praise, but his efforts were in vain. "As long as I'm presentable. For court, I mean."

"This is suitable for court."

Mr. Gavin liked it when he wore a shirt and tie, even when he wasn't going to court. Mr. Gavin himself wore a suit most of the time, so that wasn't too odd. It wasn't as if he was forcing Apollo to wear one. He could still wear a t-shirt whenever he wanted. Dressing a little better was the least Apollo could do. He was so grateful for everything Mr. Gavin had done for him.
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August 2012


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