The Gavinner's Last Song

Part One: Daryan

He didn't like the way it started. But he didn't have anything better to contribute.

"What a tragic affection to harbor,

A soul that's seeking salvation to squander.

Such a beautiful burden to bear alone...

I know."

Daryan didn't know what he was doing. He wasn't a musician anymore. No one would ever hear his words.

Except maybe the guard outside his cell. Daryan had a cellmate once, too, but they were gone now. Moved elsewhere after a fit of violence. No permanent wounds, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

Not that he minded. He was alone, no matter what.

Maybe that's why he was writing a song. After losing his job, friends, and freedom, music was all he had. It was the only way for him to say what was on his mind. His only way to send a message.

But who was he writing to? The media? His fellow officers? Klavier? Any one of them would have made sense.

He looked back down at the page, looking at the lyrics and the tune that moved beneath it. He seemed... sympathetic, to them. Was he?

Well, maybe. He'd killed someone, but he sure hadn't wanted to. He knew about the Misham trial, about Klavier...

Klavier. He grit his teeth, picking up his pen. No sympathy there.

"Rants and fictions of violence, break all the silence.

Hiding in wake of your deception."

He thought he was such a fucking angel, didn't he? Daryan saw the papers. He saw what they accused him of. He saw what Klavier had said to the reporters.

They'd been friends, before all this. What Daryan had done had nothing to do with him. Why did he make everything about himself?

Not just that. Why did he get away with it? He's done bad things, too. Daryan had covered for him like any friend would.

"Gurading desperate secrets, buried below...

And you know..."

Daryan knew. Klavier knew. All of their former band-mates knew. They'd been so great to him, and there he was. Shoving them all under a bus.

He could say what he wanted, make up whatever excuse he needed to. Manipulate any loophole to be "innocent" in this mess known as their lives.

Murder wasn't the only crime out there. And there's more than one way to kill a person. Shoot them from the outside, or stab them on the inside. Both got you the same result, in the end.

But of course, he had an excuse. Klavier always had an excuse. Just like the brother he hated so much.

Excuses, hm? That would make a good chorus.

"Tell me again,

Your fucked up excuses

Stop fighting your life of abuse, when

Fame is your game,

You say we're to blame

But you know...

You know..."

Daryan changed 'we're' to 'I'm', after a second thought. He had no business justifying anyone but himself. Let those fucked up Gavin's speak for themselves. God knows they're good at it.

That bastard must have known what Daryan was trying to do. He'd wanted to save people's lives. He did. He saved the Chief Justice's son. A life for a life. It couldn't be avoided.

He'd done such a great job, too. There should never have been a witness. That bitch ruined everything.

He hadn't known who the suspect would be, but he'd been fine with the kid. He got a lawyer, and had no real evidence against him. Any competent attorney would have gone for reasonable doubt. It wasn't his fault that attorney made things harder for himself. Or that his best friend had no sense of loyalty.

Daryan hadn't wanted to believe it. They'd had a great time together, working both their day and night jobs. No reasonable person would have expected betrayal.

But that's showbiz for you.

Daryan growled.

Patience, he reminded himself. There had to be time for a second verse:

"This moment carries my last hesitation

Seducing anger to haste my separation

This solemn piece of a guilty net it grows, so cold"

He was lost here. Had no one been worried about an ex police officer being targeted in prison? People he'd never met suddenly became his worst enemy. Daryan was lucky to be alive. And for what?

He wanted to protect his boss's family. That's all he'd been trying to do!

If he'd been half as charismatic as Klavier, would he have gotten away with it? If they hadn't fought so much that week, would Klavier have still suspected him?

Of course he would have. He acted like the world was against him. Anything to gain the public's sympathy. He made him sick.

"Your every breath now strengthens my affliction,

My tears have faded, all hope, since my conviction.

You were never the martyr you pretended to be!

Can't you see..."

He knew the real Klavier Gavin. His whole family had been conniving and ruthless. He'd been delusional to think one of them could be any different. But they made such a good argument... it was hard not to be convinced. Until the truth came out, that is.

Daryan didn't believe in masks. He was who he was. That way, anyone who lied about him would be realized right away.

Or so he thought.

The ex-rocker added another chorus, lengthening it with a repeated melody.

"Sell me again, your faultess excuses.

Holding on at the end of the noose, when

Fame is your game

You said I'm to blame

But you know...

You know..."

He lifted the pen to his face. Should he have a bridge?

No. Klavier was the one who liked lengthy bridges. The longer he was singing over everybody, the better. He should give focus to the instruments.

But after a minute, he added words anyway. Just to heighten the mood.

"How they love you now.

Teardrops rain down.

Nobody cares!

Nobody cares!"

He loved putting together instrument parts. Especially guitar.

So many people misunderstood guitar. They assumed it had to be at the forefront, to be flashy, in order to sound good. But there were so many ways to use it as an atmosphere. So many ways to turn vocals into a background, too.

He wanted to create the darkest atmosphere possible. He wanted him to know how shitty it was down there.

The chorus hit again, without the added part from the second verse. He combined the bridge with the chorus for a fadeout, put down the pen, and looked at the scrawl across the page.

Daryan had only gotten his hands on one piece of paper. To fit everything on, his writing and gradually gotten smaller and smaller. Crude arrows pointed to the chorus ever time the song was meant to enter it. He used a startling lack of correct musical notation. Hopefully, the potential recipients could interpret it.

There it was. His bleeding heart on a page of music no one would ever read. He should have ripped it up.

He didn't know why he didn't. Nor did he understand shoving it into an envelope, addressing it to a certain prosecutor's office. Was it revenge? An apology? An explanation?

It was him. Raw and real.

Try faking your way out of that.

A/N's: Disclaimer: I do not own Ace Attorney. If I did, we would have gotten a second AJ. Or Athena Cykes: Ace Attorney.

I also don't own Ben Moody's song "10.22", since this fic is heavily influenced by the story behind the song. (Slightly) modified lyrics were used in the making of this fic, so I recommend listening to it while reading.