A/N: Ok, I'm out of my comfort zone in this story. Heck, I'm out of my comfort zone writing anything! :) There's a bit of research I had to do, and the story's pace would be a bit slow as I'm testing the waters. Appreciate any feedback and comments. Suggestions would be helpful too, especially those of you out there who knows more about rock music or classical music.

This chapter title comes from Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams". Like PhantomBlaze told me, you don't need to hear the background music to feel the story. But of course, to have the music as background will make it better in some ways. But I think once I start writing the classical music sections with no lyrics, you will have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about! haha...

ScribbledInk, Kira-Proxy: Yes, the part that Serah said Light played the Cello was in my other story! I'm so sorry I "brainwashed" people to think its true! Square, don't sue me!

And thank you all my other reviewers, and people who added the story to favourites even after one short chapter. I hope I don't disappoint!

Background to this chapter: I'm exploring Fang's personality on this one. I've always been intrigued why she appeared laidback outwardly when she's been through so much. There's an underlying tone of insecurity and loneliness. Insecurity when she lost her memories but appeared unfazed by that. Loneliness when time and time again, her comrades were not by her side as she fought (Ragnarok the first time, Bahamut the second time she wanted to face alone, Orphan/Ragnarok the third time... poor Fang!)

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy or the songs that make guest appearances in my stories. Some of the lyrics in later chapters may or may not be mine, I'll let you know when it comes to that.


II. Boulevard of Broken Dreams

"People say you don't know what you don't know."
"What duncha think I know, hmm?"
"You don't know how messed up you really are."
"Oh, I have a vague idea alright. Anything else?"
"You don't know what you really want."
"And you would?"
"You tell me. I am you, and you are me."

Fang looked at her own reflection in the mirror, the bloodshot eyes, the unfocussed, glazed look, the drained pallor hidden under her tanned complexion. The price to pay, the whole disgrace, from tumbling off a high.

"Damn straight."


Fang floated from her stream of consciousness into awakening. She was not a morning person, and the whole surrealism was enhanced by the fact that she couldn't remember. Couldn't remember where she was, what she was doing, who she was with.

Panic gripped her and she twitched and jerked, finally jolting upright with a hoarse scream on her lips. Disoriented and groggy, she squinted through blurry vision, making out the sunlight streaming through her tattered curtains, the dust motes almost glinting as they floated through the still air.

She ran her hands through her tangled hair, breathing in deep, counting to three. Her disciplined routine when she needed to calm down and fight this familiar nightmare.

Ok Fang, think. Where am I? Last night… what happened last night… There was a girl, she had rose petal hair. Music, right… right… Yeah, new apartment. Moved house. Ok ok, you got it girl… You remembered, good good…

Slowly, she brought herself to her feet and opened her room door. The apartment was deathly quiet. It might have been close to noon, she couldn't quite tell. Her new roommate must have left already. She went into the adjoining kitchen and drank right from the sink, letting the cool water sooth her parched throat. Spying some leftover coffee in a carafe, she helped herself to a cup and took it to the living room.

Her new apartment was far from desirable, but it suited her needs. Her needs, as was defined by her band mates, at least. The place was clean, small but not cramped. Most important of all, she had a roommate who was not a party animal. The oblong living room covered by wooden flooring had three large windows with a view. Not a pretty view mind, but you could see the tracks leading down to a nearby train station and the fiery autumn yellow of the trees lining the sidewalk. The centre bay window encircled a rectangular alcove with cushioned seats by the window sill. An empty bar counter took up a corner of the living room, while a leather couch and coffee table took up another. Other than that, the space was so bare, she could probably set up her band here.

She took her coffee to the window seat now, propping her bare feet up and leaning herself against the glass to soak up the sunlight. She chuckled to herself when she spotted several stray pieces of sheet music under the cushions, with pencil markings all over the scraggly lines. It seemed that this was also the favourite spot of her new roommate.

Fang knew why she was here. She was being given the cold turkey treatment. Her lifestyle from before had hit the doldrums and she was acutely aware of that. She had to find her inspiration again, otherwise her road to fame as she knew it, would come to an abrupt end.

Time to get my act together, she thought to herself. She had a gig to prepare for in the late afternoon.


Nautilus Dreams - a two storey clubhouse in the heart of the city. Fang and her bandmates were very fortunate to hold a regular gig in this upscale nightclub, a popular place for hangout amongst the young and the rich. Between this and other sporadic appearances in seedier bars, the three of them managed to get by while still chasing their dreams.

Fang didn't like to categorize the kind of music she made. Punk rock, soft rock, heavy metal, indie, she didn't care to know and only played and wrote music according to her mood. Rock was rock, and her fans couldn't care less if she broke out into a ballad. As lead guitarist and vocalist, she had the freedom to style the band. She knew however, that her success depended on her band members, whom she treated like family.

Hope Estheim, bassist and backup vocalist, rich kid who defied his father to pursue his heart's desire. Then there was Sazh Katzroy, drummer and percussionist, the oldest in the group and a strange misfit. Together, they called themselves NORA. A wimpy name if there ever was one. Fang had protested then. She had wanted NOIR, New Oerban Independent Rock in remembrance of her hometown, but Hope had insisted. No Obligation, Rules or Authority. While the actual meaning sounded cool, the abbreviation was just plain… mediocre. She only relented when she found out from Sazh that Nora was the name of Hope's mother who had passed away.

Fang looped her thumbs through the shoulder straps of her heavy guitar case as she made her way through the alley to the door that led backstage. Her distinct gait was punctuated by the jingling sounds of the metal chains and buckles on her boots, belt and leather jacket. Her trademark midnight blue scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck, and she had another blue and white tartan kerchief tied around her hips, with the stylish frayed ends trailing to the back of her knees.

Her hands were starting to tremble again. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the moment of weakness.

"Hey Fang! We're almost starting, you're late!" Hope's cheerful voice greeted her as she walked into the dressing room.

"Got lost tryin' ter find my way from the new apartment. No thanks to you guys. What kinda shitty place did ya try to fit me into?"

The guys laughed good-naturedly. "Ok, we'll talk about that later, we got to hit the stage in five." Sazh reminded.

Fang gave a cursory glance at the two. Hope was psyched up already, his silver blond hair slicked back at the sides and spiked up at the front and back. He adjusted his bright green scarf as he wore the straps of his bass guitar. Sazh was playing with his drumsticks, twirling them between his fingers and tucking them smoothly into a custom-made leather belt strapped loosely to his hips like a Western cowboy.

Fang grinned and took out her own electric guitar, one of her many prized collections. For tonight's show, she had chosen one with a sleek electric blue and white body, to match her outfit. She tested the sound and adjusted the pegs.

"Let's hit it then, make it a blast."

The three of them lightly tapped their fists together. "For NORA!"

As the spotlight on stage glared down and blinded her eyes, Fang thought she had never felt more alive than at this moment. Nothing could describe the incredible surge of energy, the ineffable ecstasy she felt when the beat of the drums started. The sweet sounds of the bass and the guitar distorted and electrified the atmosphere. The deafening cheers from the crowd as they went wild were the oxygen she needed to breathe. She grabbed the microphone and began to belt out her dreams, her rich voice haunting and reverberating.

Yet ironically, it was moments like these, when the sudden overpowering exposure to light obscured her vision and all she could hear was her own voice amongst the mindless screaming, that she felt the most isolated and alone. Could anyone really feel and hear her pain through the lyrics of what she was singing?

No one really cares…

In her brief solitude came the silent fear and insecurities. That it was never going to be better. That this was as good as it gets. That whatever dreams she had was all but an illusion that she could not achieve. What was worse than failing? Like a case of unbearable hangover, to wake up to a life of stagnancy and normalcy. Fang would rather end her life prematurely than to ever reach that stage.

I walk alone on this empty street… On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams…
I walk alone, I walk alone…