It was snowing. Like white paper blown by the breeze, it swirled and danced through the cold winter air, though from a distance you could think there was nobody there to see it. Until you squinted through the snowfall and saw, indistinct but growing clearer as they came closer, two figures. Even in normal daylight, you could be forgiven for thinking that the two were twins, or possibly even a mirror image of the same person, slightly distorted.

One was plainly younger than the other and skipped ahead, bundled up in an identical black coat to the figure accompanying him. As they drew nearer, features swam into view- both had the same distinctive curl of blonde hair over the shoulder, the same blue eyes. The younger boy couldn't have been more than seven, still at an age where the world retains most of its wonder. In ten years time, they would become in turn famous and notorious, but for now....for now they were simply brothers.

"Krissi?" called the younger boy.

"Hmmm? Yes?" Kristoph Gavin looked up, only to be hit full in the face by a snowball. Clearing the ice from his glasses he scowled at his little brother.

"That's not funny, Klavi." he snapped, reaching a gloved hand inside his coat to scoop out the snow which had fallen down the neck.

"Awww, c'mon! You're no fun!" whined Klavier. "Snow's for throwing, ja? And since you didn't want to build a snowman...."

Kristoph rolled his eyes. "I didn't say I didn't want to build one, I just said that I wasn't going to donate my scarf and gloves to it. There's a difference you know, Bruderlein." As the eldest, his duty was naturally to correct his hyperactive sibling but he couldn't help smiling at Klavier's theory that the proposed snowman would "get cold" if it wasn't fully clothed.

Klavier chewed his lip- a recently obtained habit and twisted a strand of his hair around his finger. Suddenly, a beatific smile spread across his face and he spun around to face his brother.

"I know! You lie down and I'll bury you, like we do at the beach?...." he trailed off, realising from the look on Kristoph's face that there must be a flaw in his idea.

"Klavi, have you ever heard of hypothermia?"

"Is it a kind of candy?"

Please tell me he didn't just say that.... I am never letting him out in the cold by himself.

"Uhhh...sure, whatever you want, Klavi. But I'll tell you something better we can do." he said, catching hold of Klavier's hand.
"We lie down...", he tugged his brother down into the snow beside him.
"Then we stretch our arms and legs out and flap them up and down.... and then we stand up."

"It's an...angel?" Klavier stepped carefully out of the indent he'd made in the snow and brushed his bangs out of his eyes; Kristoph following suit, with considerably more grace than the younger boy.

"It is and it isn't...."

"How can something be and not be at the same time? It doesn't make sense!"

"Well...." Kristoph pursed his lips. How to explain? "To put it simply, it looks like an angel, but it can't be because angels aren't real."

"They're not? Then what is real?" Klavier looked as though he was dangerously close to crying.

"I'm real and you're real. Isn't that all we need to know?"

By now the snow was falling more sparsely, so that the sky, pale violet with the clouds pleated in soft ripples, was visible. Kristoph became aware that he was cold. Much colder than he would have liked. In fact, his teeth were chattering so hard that he could barely hear himself think and the remains of the snowball were melting into icy water that trickled down his back.

His little brother peered at him,a concerned expression on his face.

"You don't have hyperthlolmia, do you, Krissi?"

A Woman Is Like A Blackberry.

I was late. Severely late. So late in fact that there probably wasn't a word to describe it. I hurriedly yanked my arms through the grey jacket lying over the arm of the couch, grabbed the paper bag perched on the fake-marble kitchen counter and dashed out the door.

For a few weeks now, Trucy had insisted on making me pack lunches and since the process somehow necessitates my complete absence from the kitchen; naturally I'd sat down in front of the TV, cracked open a can of soda and watched a couple of reruns of the Steel Samurai. And a couple more. And a few more still. I had only been awakened from my ninja-induced reverie. by Trucy dancing up and down, waving a brown lunch sack in front of my face.

“Don't forget your lunch, Daddy! I made pastrami sandwiches! You like those, right?”

I paused. Pastrami- my most hated of fillings.

Guess I could dump it in the trash on my way out and buy something from the canteen at the precinct...

Needless to say, I wasn't exactly looking forward to ingesting this particular meal, but nevertheless, I'd forced a cheery smile.

“Sounds great, honey. I'll see you when I get back from my meeting.”

“You have a meeting today?” Trucy had frowned.

“But you never have meetings... How'm I supposed to get a new mommy when you won't even leave the house?”

Before I could think up a snappy comeback, she was distracted by the time on her brand new Gramarye wristwatch.

Cost a damn fortune. What's the point in having Valant Gramarye as an uncle when you don't even get a discount on his merchandise?

“Uh-oh. Gotta go, Daddy, school calls and all that!”

Trucy elevated herself on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck, giving me her customary fifteen-year old's peck on the cheek, before scooping up her schoolbag and skipping blithely out of the apartment.

Hang on a second... What IS the time? I glanced at the clock.

Nine thirty! Crap!

Explanations aside, the fact remained that if I didn't get to the District Attorney's office in less than three minutes, I was going to be blinded by a vicious spray of luminol. What was it Pearls always used to say?

A woman is like a blackberry, Mr Nick....

It was beautiful. Even I had to admit that. Hazakura Temple mantled in snow and fringed by black pines with the sun rising in shades of frosty pink and orange. The temporary bridge spanning the ravine of Eagle River swayed slightly in the icy wind and inadvertently I glanced across the abyss to the basic hut that grandly referred to itself as the Inner Temple. Maya. It was hard to imagine how the events of the past four days could have gotten any worse and even harder to believe that there could still be such tranquillity. A small hand slipped into mine and I turned round to see a tiny and very dejected looking spirit medium standing beside me, twisting a strand of her light brown hair worriedly with her free hand. By the redness of her eyes and the tear tracks down her cheeks, I could tell Pearls had been crying pretty hard.

"Hey, Pearls." I smiled, an anticlimactic greeting if ever there was one.

She raised her head and looked me full in the face; the anguish she was feeling spelled across her face as clearly as though someone had written it with a permanent marker.

"Everything's changed now, hasn't it, Mr Nick?" she sniffed, swallowing hard and tracing patterns in the snow with her shoe.

I couldn't deny that, no matter how much I wanted to. Because the fact was, change had indeed smashed its way into our lives like a train wreck and now all that was left to us was that hardest of tasks: picking up the pieces. As kids, we all get taught not to play with those enticing bottles of corrosives sat just out of reach on some top shelf; to ignore the lure of exciting products such as bleach and antifreeze. We are never told though, that one thing just as caustic is the truth. Everyone involved in this case had been burnt, some more badly than others, but all of us would carry the scars for the rest of our lives. Because one other terrible thing about the truth is that, once you know it, it never goes away.

"Will...will Mystic Maya be OK?" Pearls whispered, looking more wretched than I had ever seen her before.

"Of course she will." I comforted the little girl, hugging her into my side. I could only hope that what I was saying would prove to be true.
Ludicrous, excitable, full of life, resilient Maya. But this time...I couldn't help but wonder whether what had happened had just cut her too deep for her to be able to even start to accept it, let alone continue as normal.

"Mr Nick- you know you're Mystic Maya's special someone?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; neither I nor Maya had been able to disenchant Pearls of her theory that she and I were...involved.

I nodded, not wanting to upset her- for an eight-year old, she'd already withstood an incredible amount during the past couple of days.

"That...thing that happened- it's hurt her really badly. And that's why she needs you to be there for her...but you have to be gentle. My mom always used to say.." and at this, Pearls paused, no doubt remembering that currently her mother wasn't doing all that fantastic a job of being a role model, given her conviction for murder and subsequent incarceration in the state prison.
"...that a woman is like a blackberry." she finished.
An odd choice of metaphor...
"How so? Squeeze her too hard and she squirts out purple stuff?" I quipped, at a loss to understand this peculiar pearl of wisdom.

She shook her head, a gleam of the old Pearls temper back in her eyes.

"No! I mean, she won't come off the bush until she's ready. You just have to wait for that time to come."

"And if it...doesn't?"

"You'll know she was never meant to be picked by you."

You'll know she was never meant to be picked by you.

Pearls had no idea how right she was about to be proved that day. When we arrived back at the temple after our little sojourn in the snow, we found a very pale and determined looking Maya at the entrance, her luggage piled around her.

“Come on, Pearly. We're going home.” she announced.

“B-but, Maya...” I trailed off, hearing the feebleness of my objection.

“But what, Nick?” she whispered. “There's nothing left for me. I have to go- Kurain needs me.”

“I need you too, Maya!” I finally burst out. She looked almost shocked and a tear slipped out from beneath her eyelid.

"You crossed a burning bridge for me, Nick. You saved me from a homicidal kidnapper, acquitted me of murder three times. I've always been the one who needed you. For what it's worth...I think I'll always have a special place for you in my heart...but I can't live this life any more. There's too much hurt, so much deceit and lies! So I have to go..because it's the only way I can save myself, even though I'll be leaving half of me behind."

"So," I managed. "Is this how we say goodbye?"

Maya looked up and kissed me, just once, on the corner of the mouth. She ran her fingertips over my face as though she was trying to commit every detail of my face to memory.

"Yes, Nick. This is how we say goodbye."

I hailed a cab on the street outside my apartment. The yellow Ford pulled up on the kerb and as I opened the door and made to slide in, a hand tapped me on the shoulder.

"Ach, Herr Wright, you're not really going to ride in that rustbucket, are you?" an all-too-familiar-and-all-too-smug voice inquired. I turned around and indeed, who should I see but the Prosecutor's Office's very own rock god, Klavier Gavin, smirking in his usual superior manner.

"Not all of us can afford limos, Gavin." I retorted. He held up his palms in a placatory gesture.

"Hey, steady on. I was just going to say that my car's parked right there and I wouldn't charge you for a lift, ja?"

I surveyed the street until my eyes came to rest upon a flashy black sports car parked defiantly on a double yellow line. I didn't need to see the silver "G" symbols stencilled on the wing mirrors to know that a car this expensive could only belong to Gavin.

"It's a deal." It's even fancier than that garish red car Edgeworth used to have. Guess prosecutor salaries sure are something-but that said, selling millions of records probably rakes in the cash too...
"Where are you headed, anyway?" he asked, once we were in the car, simultaneously checking his perfect blonde hair in the rearview mirror. "Let me guess, you're going to see the Fraulein Detective?"

How does he do that?

I nodded. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Why so aggressive today, Herr Wright? Nervous about visiting she of the flying snacks? Or maybe you have a crush on our little Miss Forensics?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Of course there was no way I was going to tell him how right he was.

“So does she know?” the prosecutor asked, grinning. Just shut up already while your pretty face is still in one piece, Gavin...
In fact, I'd never told anyone how I felt about Ema, least of all the lady herself and I'd be damned if I was going to spill to a guy who clinks when he walks.
After Maya left, I almost lost the will to do anything; even losing my attorney's badge didn't seem to matter as much as the private hell that consumed me. Those were the bad days, the days when Trucy used to beg me to get up in the morning, the days where I considered just ending it all and leaving that smiling little girl to someone who could give her all the attention she deserved. But somehow, I couldn't- there was something about her that reminded me so much of Maya...Maya and another teenage girl I remembered. I hadn't thought about Ema for years, but suddenly it all came flooding back to me; the way Trucy smiled reminded me of the way Ema's eyes had lit up whenever she dusted a perfect fingerprint or uncovered a hidden bloodstain in ultraviolet blue.

And to my surprise, even after seven years, she still had that spark, even after failing her forensics test and being demoted to Criminal Affairs, with a narcissistic German fop constantly on her case, Ema always had a moment to talk to me between her interminable Snackoo munchings. Soon it became easier to leave the house, to talk to people, to spend time playing with Trucy ("Okay, Daddy, I'm going to be Snow White and you're Sleeping Beauty..."). That's something else I haven't told Ema: how she was able to fish me out my depression when nobody else could. How much she means to me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I replied, in answer to Gavin's question, displaying my best poker face.

He sighed. "Listen, Herr Wright. I may be beautiful, but I'm not stupid. For a poker player, your bluff is pretty....woeful."

Luckily, at that moment I saw that the car was in danger of completely passing the precinct by and pointed this out. He cursed in what I assumed to be German and slammed his foot down on the brakes so hard that his sunglasses flew off and hit the windscreen. Not stupid? Yeah, I'm so convinced....

The intern at Criminal Affairs stared at me blankly, mechanically moving an emery board up and down the tips of her fingernails and giving me a look which plainly bespoke her outrage that I should dare to cut in on her coffee break.

"I'm sorry, sir, Detective Skye is currently unavailable." Typical. Just typical.

Nonetheless, I affected a polite expression. "When will she be back?" The girl shrugged and turned away. I can't believe you don't have a job- your people skills are so fantastic....
Gavin nudged me aside and stepped forward, turning the full strength of his smile on the unfortunate intern, who was now sipping a cup of dubious looking coffee.

"You know, Fraulein, a scowl does not become a beautiful lady like yourself. If you could see it in your way to tell my...associate where he could find the detective, maybe I could see it in my way to get you a cup of...more appetising coffee?" he murmured. She's never going to fall for that...
And, once again, I was proved wrong, as the Wicked Witch of the Nail File simpered and fluttered her eyelashes.

"Detective Skye is just in a quick meeting with the Chief, but she should be done in fifteen minutes or so."

"Traumhaft... We are in your debt, Fraulein." purred the blonde, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the so-called "waiting room".

Sometimes I wondered why they called them meetings in the first place- in this case the term “massive chewing-out” would have been about a million times more appropriate.

So I screwed up. Big deal. Like I even wanted to be a freaking detective anyway.... I tuned out the less than pleasant sound of my superior's yelling and focused instead on thoughts of that new brand of luminol I'd heard they were developing in Japan; the kind that didn't just turn blue when you got a positive reaction, but every shade from bubblegum pink to neon yellow.

Not that I have anything against blue- I like blue. Mr Wright wears blue....Or he used to anyway.

"Are you listening, Detective Skye?" boomed the dulcet tones of the Chief Detective.

"Yes, sir." I lied through my teeth. I, unfortunately, am a very good liar, which although in this business pays off, generally has consequences.

"I must say I'm surprised, Detective. Most employees would show at least some emotion when they're being faced with a 50 percent pay cut this month..."

What. The. HELL. Is. This? Oh, God, this is not my day today....

And I guessed God himself must have been having a pretty crappy day too, because to make matters worse, I heard emanating from the corridor the voice of a certain glimmerous fop, no doubt on his way from screwing another few secretaries.

They should print T-shirts or something: I Was Nailed By The Fop... They'd probably sell too.

But though the Almighty may have been pissed at me, some angel up there must have been on my side. Woven through the irritating German accent, half of which I was sure was affected anyway, was a very familiar voice. Mr Wright's here?

After the case in which he'd saved both me and my sister, Lana sent me off to Europe to study with Marie-Claire, a coroner friend of hers and, let me tell you, it deserves its reputation for turning out prodigy after prodigy. How could I compete with all these perfect genius children? There I was, a hopelessly naive sixteen year old girl who turned up on the first day of the forensics course waving a jar of fingerprinting powder, against kids who could recite the atomic masses and properties of every element on the periodic table and write out the code for entire DNA strands. What chance did I have?

I struggled through as best I could and fled back to America, desperate to take the test which I believed, in my childish way, would immediately restore me to the career and position of my choice where, I imagined, I would be surrounded by science all day long.

Of course I failed. I settled for second-best and became yet another generic detective, sniffing around the same crime scenes every day. The saddest thing in the world is when you look at a corpse and realise that you really don't care who they were, how they died, if they had any family- because to you, they're just another piece of paperwork to file, another testimony you have to give.

But then there was Mr. Wright. There was someone who needed me to remember, as much as I wanted to forget, someone who made me realise how selfish I'd been wallowing in my own misery, when he'd just lost almost everything that mattered to him. Maya. That name came up a lot. Maya had left. That much I gathered. He had a little girl now too- cuter than a rainbow marshmallow, who bounced up to me every time I visited and asked whether I was going "to make Daddy better today". I did my best- God only knows if it was enough.

NB: please don't be offended by Ema's comments regarding God- they're entirely hers and don't reflect my views at all.

A Woman Is Like A Blackberry.

I was late. Severely late. So late in fact that there probably wasn't a word to describe it. I hurriedly yanked my arms through the grey jacket lying over the arm of the couch, grabbed the paper bag perched on the fake-marble kitchen counter and dashed out the door.

For a few weeks now, Trucy had insisted on making me pack lunches and since the process somehow necessitates my complete absence from the kitchen; naturally I'd sat down in front of the TV, cracked open a can of soda and watched a couple of reruns of the Steel Samurai. And a couple more. And a few more still. I had only been awakened from my ninja-induced reverie. by Trucy dancing up and down, waving a brown lunch sack in front of my face.

“Don't forget your lunch, Daddy! I made pastrami sandwiches! You like those, right?”

I paused. Pastrami- my most hated of fillings.

Guess I could dump it in the trash on my way out and buy something from the canteen at the precinct...

Needless to say, I wasn't exactly looking forward to ingesting this particular meal, but nevertheless, I'd forced a cheery smile.

“Sounds great, honey. I'll see you when I get back from my meeting.”

“You have a meeting today?” Trucy had frowned.

“But you never have meetings... How'm I supposed to get a new mommy when you won't even leave the house?”

Before I could think up a snappy comeback, she was distracted by the time on her brand new Gramarye wristwatch.

Cost a damn fortune. What's the point in having Valant Gramarye as an uncle when you don't even get a discount on his merchandise?

“Uh-oh. Gotta go, Daddy, school calls and all that!”

Trucy elevated herself on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck, giving me her customary fifteen-year old's peck on the cheek, before scooping up her schoolbag and skipping blithely out of the apartment.

Hang on a second... What IS the time? I glanced at the clock.

Nine thirty! Crap!

Explanations aside, the fact remained that if I didn't get to the District Attorney's office in less than three minutes, I was going to be blinded by a vicious spray of luminol. What was it Pearls always used to say?

A woman is like a blackberry, Mr Nick....

It was beautiful. Even I had to admit that. Hazakura Temple mantled in snow and fringed by black pines with the sun rising in shades of frosty pink and orange. The temporary bridge spanning the ravine of Eagle River swayed slightly in the icy wind and inadvertently I glanced across the abyss to the basic hut that grandly referred to itself as the Inner Temple. Maya. It was hard to imagine how the events of the past four days could have gotten any worse and even harder to believe that there could still be such tranquillity. A small hand slipped into mine and I turned round to see a tiny and very dejected looking spirit medium standing beside me, twisting a strand of her light brown hair worriedly with her free hand. By the redness of her eyes and the tear tracks down her cheeks, I could tell Pearls had been crying pretty hard.

"Hey, Pearls." I smiled, an anticlimactic greeting if ever there was one.

She raised her head and looked me full in the face; the anguish she was feeling spelled across her face as clearly as though someone had written it with a permanent marker.

"Everything's changed now, hasn't it, Mr Nick?" she sniffed, swallowing hard and tracing patterns in the snow with her shoe.

I couldn't deny that, no matter how much I wanted to. Because the fact was, change had indeed smashed its way into our lives like a train wreck and now all that was left to us was that hardest of tasks: picking up the pieces. As kids, we all get taught not to play with those enticing bottles of corrosives sat just out of reach on some top shelf; to ignore the lure of exciting products such as bleach and antifreeze. We are never told though, that one thing just as caustic is the truth. Everyone involved in this case had been burnt, some more badly than others, but all of us would carry the scars for the rest of our lives. Because one other terrible thing about the truth is that, once you know it, it never goes away.

"Will...will Mystic Maya be OK?" Pearls whispered, looking more wretched than I had ever seen her before.

"Of course she will." I comforted the little girl, hugging her into my side. I could only hope that what I was saying would prove to be true.
Ludicrous, excitable, full of life, resilient Maya. But this time...I couldn't help but wonder whether what had happened had just cut her too deep for her to be able to even start to accept it, let alone continue as normal.

"Mr Nick- you know you're Mystic Maya's special someone?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; neither I nor Maya had been able to disenchant Pearls of her theory that she and I were...involved.

I nodded, not wanting to upset her- for an eight-year old, she'd already withstood an incredible amount during the past couple of days.

"That...thing that happened- it's hurt her really badly. And that's why she needs you to be there for her...but you have to be gentle. My mom always used to say.." and at this, Pearls paused, no doubt remembering that currently her mother wasn't doing all that fantastic a job of being a role model, given her conviction for murder and subsequent incarceration in the state prison.
"...that a woman is like a blackberry." she finished.
An odd choice of metaphor...
"How so? Squeeze her too hard and she squirts out purple stuff?" I quipped, at a loss to understand this peculiar pearl of wisdom.

She shook her head, a gleam of the old Pearls temper back in her eyes.

"No! I mean, she won't come off the bush until she's ready. You just have to wait for that time to come."

"And if it...doesn't?"

"You'll know she was never meant to be picked by you."

You'll know she was never meant to be picked by you.

Pearls had no idea how right she was about to be proved that day. When we arrived back at the temple after our little sojourn in the snow, we found a very pale and determined looking Maya at the entrance, her luggage piled around her.

“Come on, Pearly. We're going home.” she announced.

“B-but, Maya...” I trailed off, hearing the feebleness of my objection.

“But what, Nick?” she whispered. “There's nothing left for me. I have to go- Kurain needs me.”

“I need you too, Maya!” I finally burst out. She looks almost shocked and a tear slips out from beneath her eyelid.

"You crossed a burning bridge for me, Nick. You saved me from a homicidal kidnapper, acquitted me of murder three times. I've always been the one who needed you. For what it's worth...I think I'll always have a special place for you in my heart...but I can't live this life any more. There's too much hurt, so much deceit and lies! So I have to go..because it's the only way I can save myself, even though I'll be leaving half of me behind."

"So," I manage. "Is this how we say goodbye?"

Maya looks up and kisses me, just once, on the corner of the mouth. She runs her fingertips over my face as though she's trying to commit every detail of my face to memory.

"Yes, Nick. This is how we say goodbye."

I hailed a cab on the street outside my apartment. The yellow Ford pulled up on the kerb and as I opened the door and made to slide in, a hand tapped me on the shoulder.

"Ach, Herr Wright, you're not really going to ride in that rustbucket, are you?" an all-too-familiar-and-all-too-smug voice inquired. I turned around and indeed, who should I see but the Prosecutor's Office's very own rock god, Klavier Gavin, smirking in his usual superior manner.

"Not all of us can afford limos, Gavin." I retorted. He held up his palms in a placatory gesture.

"Hey, steady on. I was just going to say that my car's parked right there and I wouldn't charge you for a lift, ja?"

I surveyed the street until my eyes came to rest upon a flashy black sports car parked defiantly on a double yellow line. I didn't need to see the silver "G" symbols stencilled on the wing mirrors to know that a car this expensive could only belong to Gavin.

"It's a deal." It's even fancier than that garish red car Edgeworth used to have. Guess prosecutor salaries sure are something-but that said, selling millions of records probably rakes in the cash too...
"Where are you headed, anyway?" he asked, once we were in the car, simultaneously checking his perfect blonde hair in the rearview mirror. "Let me guess, you're going to see the Fraulein Detective?"

How does he do that?

I nodded. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Why so aggressive today, Herr Wright? Nervous about visiting she of the flying snacks? Or maybe you have a crush on our little Miss Forensics?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Of course there was no way I was going to tell him how right he was.

“So does she know?” the prosecutor asked, grinning. Just shut up already while your pretty face is still in one piece, Gavin...
In fact, I'd never told anyone how I felt about Ema, least of all the lady herself and I'd be damned if I was going to spill to a guy who clinks when he walks.
After Maya left, I almost lost the will to do anything; even losing my attorney's badge didn't seem to matter as much as the private hell that consumed me. Those were the bad days, the days when Trucy used to beg me to get up in the morning, the days where I considered just ending it all and leaving that smiling little girl to someone who could give her all the attention she deserved. But somehow, I couldn't- there was something about her that reminded me so much of Maya...Maya and another teenage girl I remembered. I hadn't thought about Ema for years, but suddenly it all came flooding back to me; the way Trucy smiled reminded me of the way Ema's eyes had lit up whenever she dusted a perfect fingerprint or uncovered a hidden bloodstain in ultraviolet blue.

And to my surprise, even after seven years, she still had that spark, even after failing her forensics test and being demoted to Criminal Affairs, with a narcissistic German fop constantly on her case, Ema always had a moment to talk to me between her interminable Snackoo munchings. Soon it became easier to leave the house, to talk to people, to spend time playing with Trucy ("Okay, Daddy, I'm going to be Snow White and you're Sleeping Beauty..."). That's something else I haven't told Ema: how she was able to fish me out my depression when nobody else could. How much she means to me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I replied, in answer to Gavin's question, displaying my best poker face.

He sighed. "Listen, Herr Wright. I may be beautiful, but I'm not stupid. For a poker player, your bluff is pretty....woeful."

Luckily, at that moment I saw that the car was in danger of completely passing the precinct by and pointed this out. He cursed in what I assumed to be German and slammed his foot down on the brakes so hard that his sunglasses flew off and hit the windscreen. Not stupid? Yeah, I'm so convinced....

The intern at Criminal Affairs stared at me blankly, mechanically moving an emery board up and down the tips of her fingernails and giving me a look which plainly bespoke her outrage that I should dare to cut in on her coffee break.

"I'm sorry, sir, Detective Skye is currently unavailable." Typical. Just typical.

Nonetheless, I affected a polite expression. "When will she be back?" The girl shrugged and turned away. I can't believe you don't have a job- your people skills are so fantastic....
Gavin nudged me aside and stepped forward, turning the full strength of his smile on the unfortunate intern, who was now sipping a cup of dubious looking coffee.

"You know, Fraulein, a scowl does not become a beautiful lady like yourself. If you could see it in your way to tell my...associate where he could find the detective, maybe I could see it in my way to get you a cup of...more appetising coffee?" he murmured. She's never going to fall for that...
And, once again, I was proved wrong, as the Wicked Witch of the Nail File simpered and fluttered her eyelashes.

"Detective Skye is just in a quick meeting with the Chief, but she should be done in fifteen minutes or so."

"Traumhaft... We are in your debt, Fraulein." purred the blonde, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the so-called "waiting room".

It was snowing. Like white paper blown by the breeze, it swirled and danced through the cold winter air, though from a distance you could think there was nobody there to see it. Until you squinted through the snowfall and saw, indistinct but growing clearer as they came closer, two figures. Even in normal daylight, you could be forgiven for thinking that the two were twins, or possibly even a mirror image of the same person, slightly distorted.

One was plainly younger than the other and skipped ahead, bundled up in an identical black coat to the figure accompanying him. As they drew nearer, features swam into view- both had the same distinctive curl of blonde hair over the shoulder, the same blue eyes. The younger boy couldn't have been more than seven, still at an age where the world retains most of its wonder. In ten years time, they would become in turn famous and notorious, but for now....for now they were simply brothers.

"Krissi?" called the younger boy.

"Hmmm? Yes?" Kristoph Gavin looked up, only to be hit full in the face by a snowball. Clearing the ice from his glasses he scowled at his little brother.

"That's not funny, Klavi." he snapped, reaching a gloved hand inside his coat to scoop out the snow which had fallen down the neck.

"Awww, c'mon! You're no fun!" whined Klavier. "Snow's for throwing, ja? And since you didn't want to build a snowman...."

Kristoph rolled his eyes. "I didn't say I didn't want to build one, I just said that I wasn't going to donate my scarf and gloves to it. There's a difference you know, Bruderlein." As the eldest, his duty was naturally to correct his hyperactive sibling but he couldn't help smiling at Klavier's theory that the proposed snowman would "get cold" if it wasn't fully clothed.

Klavier chewed his lip- a recently obtained habit and twisted a strand of his hair around his finger. Suddenly, a beatific smile spread across his face and he spun around to face his brother.

"I know! You lie down and I'll bury you, like we do at the beach?...." he trailed off, realising from the look on Kristoph's face that there must be a flaw in his idea.

"Klavi, have you ever heard of hypothermia?"

"Is it a kind of candy?"

Please tell me he didn't just say that.... I am never letting him out in the cold by himself.

"Uhhh...sure, whatever you want, Klavi. But I'll tell you something better we can do." he said, catching hold of Klavier's hand.
"We lie down...", he tugged his brother down into the snow beside him.
"Then we stretch our arms and legs out and flap them up and down.... and then we stand up."

"It's an...angel?" Klavier stepped carefully out of the indent he'd made in the snow and brushed his bangs out of his eyes; Kristoph following suit, with considerably more grace than the younger boy.

"It is and it isn't...."

"How can something be and not be at the same time? It doesn't make sense!"

"Well...." Kristoph pursed his lips. How to explain? "To put it simply, it looks like an angel, but it can't be because angels aren't real."

"They're not? Then what is real?" Klavier looked as though he was dangerously close to crying.

"I'm real and you're real. Isn't that all we need to know?"

By now the snow was falling more sparsely, so that the sky, pale violet with the clouds pleated in soft ripples, was visible. Kristoph became aware that he was cold. Much colder than he would have liked. In fact, his teeth were chattering so hard that he could barely hear himself think and the remains of the snowball were melting into icy water that trickled down his back.

His little brother peered at him,a concerned expression on his face.

"You don't have hyperthlolmia, do you, Krissi?"