AN: I'm alive! Sorry for the wait! I really have nothing to say in this note, except thank you to my readers and reviewers. Please keep on leaving those reviews; they make me so very happy. Once again, thanks and enjoy the ride.
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Chapter Seven: Fancy Meeting You Here
A muffled chime of Für Elise could be heard amidst the bustling crowds in the airport. Struggling with luggage and flight papers, Serena attempted to find her ringing cell phone at the bottom of her purse. Feeling rather triumphant after finding it through receipts, credit cards, and makeup, her smile of satisfaction fell as she checked the number of the caller. She should have known this was coming.
Groaning, she wearily turned on the phone and gave a bored, "Hello?"
"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE!" Mina screamed on the other line. Serena held the phone away from her ear as her enraged friend continued her tirade. "Leaving me a message like that! How could you not call me?" Her screeches drifted into whines. "How could you not give details?"
Serena rolled her eyes and adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder while trying to find a seat in the crowded terminal. "I pretty much said all that there was to say, Mina."
"Excuse me? All you said was, 'Hey Mina. Just wanted to let you know that I broke up with Darien and a friend of mine passed away. I'll be gone for a week. Get my mail for me.' That is pathetic!" The screeching was back.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't let you in on every last detail of my life, but I'm rather busy and grief-stricken at the moment."
"Where are you?"
She sighed and found an empty seat in a waiting area. "The airport. My flight leaves in twenty minutes."
"So, you have time!" Mina said brightly. Serena shook her head. "Why don't I simply ask the questions and you answer?"
Serena slumped in her chair. "Fine."
"Okay!" Mina exclaimed, "First of all, who died?"
"You have no tact at all, you know that?"
"Less questions, more answers," Mina shot back.
"A friend of mine from high school, Ann Crane. Of a brain aneurysm."
Mina gasped, "How awful! Did you correspond with her at all?"
Serena shrugged. "Letters... e-mails... We'd lost touch as of late."
"So why are you going to her funeral?"
Frowning, she fished for her passport while juggling her phone. "Do you even realize how terrible that sounds?" she sighed, "We were good friends for a long time and apparently, I'm in her will."
"A twenty-five year old had a will?"
"She had money... I guess just in case."
"Still, a twenty-five year old died of a brain aneurysm? I'm no doctor but-"
"Damn straight. Have a little respect, Mina, and don't question it."
"Fine, fine. I'll let it go. But it sounds weird to me," she paused. "So where's the funeral, anyway?"
"London. I guess her family lives there now. Her brother told me that she'd recently moved there to be closer to them."
"Allan Crane?"
"Yes, Allan Crane."
"Mmm, Serena. That man was one of People's most eligible bachelors! Go after him!"
"Mina, a funeral is not a place to hook up. Tackiness knows no bounds when it comes to you, does it?"
Mina seemed to ignore the statement. "That brings me to my next question: what happened with Darien?"
"Basically, he told me that he was in love with me and I dumped him." She decided that certain details best be left out of the story.
"Oh come on, there had to be more to it than that!"
She groaned, "Okay, okay. We had a fight about what happened when we were teenagers after he told me he loved me. I blew up at him and he apologized. I guess I didn't believe him and left. End of story." Somehow hearing what happened again made her feel less validated in dumping him.
Mina was uncharacteristically quiet. "Are you okay?"
She shrugged. "I dunno... I feel... empty. We spent nearly every day of six months together and now nothing. Maybe I felt more for him than I originally planned."
"You can't plan love, Serena. Has he tried to contact you at all?"
"Once. I saw his name on Caller ID, but I didn't pick up. What was I supposed to say? And still... it was a few days ago. He hasn't tried to contact me since then."
"Serena, Serena, Serena... you poor fool. Don't hate me for saying this, but maybe you should give it another try. Face it; you're in love with the guy! And he loves you! Do you know how few people find what you have? Put your past behind you and give it a go!"
Serena dropped her bag and sat back down, nearly speechless. "Mina, I think that's the most mature thing I've ever heard you say."
"Yes, I know I'm a genius. Now go before you miss your plane."
Serena smiled for the first time since the breakup. "Thanks, Mina."
"You're welcome. And contact him when you get back! I wouldn't want my wisdom to go to waste!"
"We'll see. I've gotta go." With that, she hung up and made her way to the terminal. Maybe she'd contact him when she got back. Maybe.
****
She arrived in London a day later, cold and tired after having to switch planes twice. Allan had insisted on paying for her hotel, despite her relentless protests. Not only did he pay for her hotel, but he reserved her a room in the most expensive hotel in London.
Trudging wearily over to the front desk, she was barely able to appreciate her lavish surroundings in her sleep-deprived state. After receiving her room key, she headed toward the elevator when she suddenly stopped at the sight of a shock of familiar black hair.
Entering the elevator was a man that she could have sworn was Darien. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she chalked the hallucination up to lack of sleep and headed toward the stairs. Even if it wasn't him, she couldn't be too careful. She couldn't face him yet.
****
Later that evening, she arrived at the church where the funeral was being held. As soon as she walked through the heavy oak doors of the old-fashioned cathedral, she spotted an auburn-haired man of about thirty greeting black-clad guests. Allan stood near the entrance as an elderly lady hung on him, sobbing, as he attempted to comfort her. Deciding to save him from the awkward situation, she headed over to him.
"Allan?" she asked as she watched the woman soak his once clean shirt.
He looked up from his current predicament and his round brown eyes showed immense relief. "Serena... it's good to see you... Mrs. O'Reilly, I'm sorry but I have to speak with a friend of mine." He handed the old woman off to her husband and walked over to her. "Guess I'll have to have this dry cleaned..." he deadpanned, looking at his stained shirt.
Serena smiled, "That was very nice of you," she paused, unsure of what to say to him, "How are you, Allan?"
He smiled weakly, "As good as possible, considering..." he trailed off and stuck his hands in the pockets of his black suit jacket.
She patted his arm sympathetically. "I understand. I'm sorry that I can't be more of a help."
He put an arm around her and smiled slightly. "Just being here helps." Pausing for a moment, he gazed at her searchingly. "My goodness, Serena Tsukino, how you've grown! The last time I saw you, you were eighteen years old."
She grinned at the nostalgia. "Last time I saw you, you were still in college," she sighed, "It's scary how time flies..."
He nodded. "You know what I find interesting?"
Tilting her head to the side, she said, "Enlighten me."
"Out of all the people I've met, and I've met quite a few people, you are the one person that has never changed."
"Really?"
He nodded, "It's a very rare quality. You're exactly the same."
She raised an eyebrow at the statement, "And how am I?"
"Perfect," he responded, "Absolutely perfect."
Serena stood in shock at her old friend's comment. If he only knew... She was far from perfect and thought, once again, about the person that had proven it. "Darien?"
Allan's brow furrowed, "Excuse me?"
Her heart began to pound as she spotted her ex-boyfriend entering the sanctuary. Still looking as wonderful as ever, she simply wanted to die as she saw him approach Allan with someone on his arm. Did he have to look so damned attractive all the time? Much less with a date? She felt sick to her stomach and decided that she couldn't deal with him seeing someone else, "I'm sorry, Allan. I just saw someone that I used to know and..." she saw him coming closer to where they were standing, but she was almost positive that he hadn't seen her yet. "And... I really need to use the bathroom. Greet them for me?"
He looked at her as though she'd grown an arm out of her head. "Are you okay?" She nodded, desperately trying to avoid being seen. He smiled knowingly. "If you're trying to avoid someone, we can go sit down."
She stared up at him, surprised, "I'm that obvious?"
"Aside from the fact that you're as pale as a ghost and you look like you're going to be sick, not at all."
She'd lost him in the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief, "Good."
Allan looked at her strangely and was about to speak when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Both turned around to find Darien with Beryl on his arm.
'The nerve of that bastard!' she thought as she watched Darien immediately tense up when he noticed her and Beryl, whose nose was fixed, look unbelievably smug. She noticed that he looked tired... He was pale and had a hint of stubble on his cheek, yet he still managed to take her breath away. She shook her head at her thoughts; why should she worry about him when he had tall, artificial, and skanky to look after him? She laughed inwardly. Perhaps Beryl's face was back to normal, but her fashion sense was off as usual: she wore an obnoxiously tight red dress. Leave it to her to wear a bright color to a funeral.
"Hello Allan." The low timbre of Darien's voice broke her out of her musings. He turned to her and nodded politely, "Serena."
"Darien..." she whispered, completely mortified. And here she thought he was sitting at home, still pining away for her in the states. "What are you doing here?"
He looked at her coldly and she felt her eyes begin to well up. She forced herself to push back the tears and looked into his steely blue gaze. She'd always loved his eyes, she thought sadly; when he looked at her, his eyes that were usually so harsh and cold softened and seemed to encompass her. Now there was no trace of softness, just empty orbs that held no emotion. "What do you think?"
Allan turned to her, confused by the awkward situation. "Darien is the executor of Ann's will."
"Oh," she responded, not knowing what else to say. Luckily, the uncomfortable silence was filled by the shrill tone of Beryl's voice.
"Allan, I was just so upset when I heard about Ann. What a terrible tragedy!" she wailed, and Allan's eyes narrowed in doubt.
"I wasn't aware that you were a friend of Ann's," Serena commented, suspicion apparent in her voice.
"Oh, I almost forgot that you were here," Beryl spat. "What was your name again? Sara? Sienna? Seneca? Some strange name like that?"
"Serena," she deadpanned in annoyance.
"Yes, yes, Serena. You were that unfortunate girl from high school, weren't you?"
It was all that Serena could do not to punch the woman's lights out. "I wouldn't say unfortunate. Just..." she looked straight at Darien and spoke with venom in her voice, "naïve." Darien flinched almost imperceptibly.
"Yes, well you and Ann were two peas in a pod I suppose. Both tragic."
Everyone stood in shocked silence at Beryl's uncouth remark. Allan was the first to recover, "Remind me again why the hell you're here."
Beryl seemed unaffected by the glares. "Ann was an employee at one of daddy's companies. We were all saddened at Vandergrift Inc. when we heard about her tragic passing. Daddy sent me as a personal representative of the company to offer our condolences. Plus," she smiled smugly and traced a long red fingernail down Darien's jacket, "Dare-bear gave me a ring the other day and asked me to accompany him." Serena could not have been any more humiliated than she was at that moment. He'd gotten over her with the woman he claimed meant nothing to him! "I heard about what you did to my poor Darien, Sienna."
"It's Serena," she corrected as she dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to prevent herself from strangling Beryl. Allan's hands on her shoulders did nothing to alleviate the extreme need to wrap her hands around Beryl's neck and squeeze. Hard.
"Whatever," Beryl said breezily, as if the name was irrelevant, "It was a very very mean and stupid thing to do. I mean, what kind of pathetic loser lets a man like this," she looked him up and down, evoking a blush out of him, "get away over some trivial childhood fight?" She circled Serena, much like Darien had done ten years earlier. "But then again, I should probably thank you. Your loss is my gain."
She wanted to cry. She wanted to go home and hide in her room like she had as a teenager. But that was no longer an option. She didn't live at home anymore. She was an adult and she would deal with her problems on her own. The only thing she had left was her pride. Humiliation was no longer in her mind: revenge was the only word that reverberated through her head. She swallowed her tears and pasted an unbelievably fake smile on her face. "What kind of loser would let him go?" she asked with saccharine sweetness and innocence, "The only kind I can think of is the self-respecting kind. But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that." She could see the anger in Beryl's eyes and knew her barbs were working. "As for a loss?" She laughed, "I didn't lose a thing. And you know what else?" she leaned in close, as if she were telling them the most important secret in the world. She watched in amusement as both of their faces reddened: Beryl's in anger, Darien's in embarrassment. "I don't want him. You can have him." With that, she took Allan's hand and turned her back on them, walking away to greet visitors. Never again would she allow them to intimidate her. Never.
Hours after the service, the group headed back to Allan's mansion for the execution of the will. Serena stood in Allan's study, waiting for the other guests to arrive, while he went to speak with his parents. She strolled over to one of the tall bookcases, examining his enormous collection of literature. Hearing the heavy door creak open behind her, she didn't turn around, but said, "I take it someone has quite the fascination with books."
"I manage a book here and there, when I'm not busy, which is rarely. But you know that." The deliciously rough, low voice was most certainly not Allan's. She turned around in shock to find Darien leaning against the dark mahogany desk in the corner. "I take it you weren't expecting me."
"No shit, Sherlock," she muttered. She headed toward the door, "I need to go find Allan."
She stopped when she felt his hand on her arm. Against her will, her heart began to beat faster as that little spark of attraction that was always there became apparent. She turned to face him, annoyed. "What do you want?"
He gazed at her searchingly. "Why all the hostility?"
She looked at him incredulously. "Why the hell do you think? You brought Beryl, Queen of All Things Slutty, to my friend's funeral! I'm seriously beginning to doubt your intelligence."
He glared at her, "What do you care if I bring her? You were the one who dumped me, if I remember correctly."
"You really think that it was easy for me to walk away, don't you?" she asked quietly.
"Of course it was," he spat heatedly, "You were using me from day one."
She blanched. "Using you?"
"I know all about your plan, Serena. The only reason you dated me was to get revenge. You know, wait until I fall in love with you and cut me loose. I didn't realize it until after the fact, but it's obvious. No need to lie to me anymore."
She sighed and decided to fess up. "Fine. I admit it. I was dating you to get revenge at the beginning. But what did you expect? You ruined my life."
"Then it will please you to know that you've ruined mine as well. We're even."
"I'm... I'm normally not such a malicious person, Darien. I didn't mean to ruin your life. I just wanted you to feel all the hurt that I felt, but at the end... I guess I didn't hate you as much as I thought," she said quietly.
He smirked, "Don't tell me that you actually felt something for me."
"You know what? I don't know why I even bother with you. I'm going to go find Allan-"
"So you can go cry to him and his bag of money? You're using him too. It's obvious that he has feelings for you and you don't give a shit," he interjected.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" she shot back, furious.
"And you're a selfish bitch," he retorted with a razor sharp glint in his eye, "But for some reason, I still want you."
"Well that's just too damn bad because-"
"Are we ready?" Allan asked, entering the room and cutting Serena off. A small group of people followed him in.
Serena took a seat at the long conference table, visibly shaken, and replied, "Of course."
It was nine o'clock at night when the last of the guests finally left Allan's mansion. She and Allan hadn't eaten anything since before the service, so he suggested that they get a quite bite to eat. She reluctantly accepted, Darien's words repeating themselves over and over in her head.
'You're using him... even though he has feelings for you... you're using him...' He wouldn't leave her alone. Even in another country, they just had to find each other. She was beginning to think that fate was playing the biggest practical joke of all time on her. She hadn't expected to see him so soon after the breakup. She hadn't expected to see him so... bitter.
"Serena? Serena, we're here," Allan's gentle voice cut through her thoughts and she stepped out of the black Lamborghini into the cool night air. He took her hand as they walked down the street to the restaurant.
A man walking swiftly in the opposite direction suddenly slammed into Serena as they walked down the sidewalk. Serena looked up to find Darien in a trench coat looking rather disconcerted.
"Darien..." she whispered, trying to collect herself. "Um... are you okay?"
His eyes were glassy and unfocused as he looked from her to Allan and back again. He looked at her, feeling betrayed, and whispered gruffly, "No," before walking in the opposite direction that he came from and into a well-lit pub at the end of the street.
Allan held her by the shoulders and looked at her worriedly, "Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with that guy?"
"I'm fine," she began walking and he followed. "If you're wondering, that," she said dryly, "was my ex-boyfriend. We had a less than amicable breakup."
"I suspected as much," he smiled. "Well in my opinion, he's a fool."
"Hmm?"
"For not going after you. Only a fool would do that."
She smiled and wondered if perhaps Darien was right in his assumptions. "Thanks Allan."
****
After dinner at a five-star restaurant that was supposed to have been a quick, simple dinner, Serena and Allan decided to walk off their meal. They lazily walked past the pub that Serena had seen Darien go into and Allan stopped.
"I could use a drink. How 'bout you?" he asked.
Since she was certain that Darien would be long gone, she accepted, "Sure."
They entered the respectable-looking pub and took a seat at the bar. After ordering their drinks, they looked to the other end of the bar where an extremely drunk man was lamenting his troubles to the world.
The ruddy-faced bartender approached them, shaking his head. "That man over there, I knew he was trouble when he came in. And he's already been in twice in one night!"
Serena gazed at the poor man in the corner of the bar. He had a five o'clock shadow, was nearly delirious, and sat like a huddled mass of sorrow nursing a scotch. "Why did you serve him?" she asked, feeling sorry for the crestfallen man.
"He came in here throwing quite a bit of money on the bar, asking for as much liquor as it could buy. So I gave it to him. He left after about thirty minutes and came back five minutes later. The poor boy seems to be heartbroken; kept yelling about a Serena over there in the corner."
Serena's eyes widened and she took a closer look at the half-conscious man at the other end of the bar. Darien! She rushed over to him right before he fell off the barstool. Steadying him as best she could, she tried to get his attention, "Darien?"
His glazed eyes fell upon her and it seemed as though he barely recognized her, "Serena?" he asked confusedly.
"Yes, Darien, it's me. I'm taking you home."
"Nonsense!" he said a bit too loudly, "I can -hic- drive myself. Just let me find my keys." He picked up a bowl of peanuts, "Here they are!" he said joyfully, flinging them in Allan's face, who had followed Serena to help steady him.
"He's taking a cab home," Allan deadpanned, removing the remaining peanuts from his hair.
Serena gazed at him pleadingly. "Allan, he doesn't know what he's doing. He can't get back to the hotel by himself."
"Then you can take him back to the hotel," he said irritably, "because I am too damned tired to deal with a drunken idiot that has been nothing but rude to us the entire day."
"He could hurt himself, Allan," she pleaded, and Darien chimed in with a "Yeah," even though he had no idea what they were talking about.
Allan rolled his eyes, "Fine. I'll take you guys back to the hotel."
Serena smiled and hugged him, "Thank you!"
Darien glared at them. "Don't touch her...wait...don't touch him..." he turned to Allan, "I don't like you."
Allan simply ignored the comment and helped get Darien to the Lamborghini parked down the street. Darien sat in the cushioned back seat, leaning heavily on Serena.
Somehow, his head ended up in her lap and he looked up at her with happy, glazed eyes, "Hi."
She groaned, "Hello Darien." That must have been the seventh time he'd said that.
He smiled contentedly, "You're very pretty."
She smiled back slightly, "Thanks."
Playing with a strand of golden hair, he gazed at her innocently, "Can we have sex?"
The car swerved and Serena sat in shock. "No, we cannot have sex," she finally managed to respond.
"Why?" the question was asked so innocently he almost seemed childlike.
"Because I didn't sleep with you when you were sober and I'm certainly not going to sleep with you now that you're wasted."
"I'm not wasted!" he exclaimed indignantly, "I only had one or two or ten -hic- drinks!" He began to laugh hysterically at his own private joke.
Serena sighed. It was going to be a long night.
****
Allan dropped them off at the hotel after a painstakingly long ride back. He'd offered to help get Darien up to his room but she'd refused; she'd imposed on him enough in one night. She took him into the sitting area of the lobby and tried to find his room key. After checking every pocket in his coat, she deduced that he must have put it in his pants pocket.
She asked him to empty his pockets, but she got no response from him except for a giggle. Deciding that there was no other way to get the room key, she began to check his pants for the key. He was smiling and she stopped for a moment. "What is it?" she asked in annoyance.
He grinned foolishly, "You're feeling me up!"
"I am not," she shot back, feeling too tired to argue, "Where's your room key, Darien?"
Pulling it out of his wallet, he grinned, "What will you do for it?" he asked, holding it just out of her reach.
"Excuse me?"
"I have the key and you want it. What will you give me for it?"
"I don't have time for games, Darien," she scolded, her patience wearing thin.
"Games? I know a fun game that we can play! Ever heard of -hic- Seven Minutes of Heaven?"
"Yes, I've heard of it and we're not playing it," she snapped, seizing the key from his limp hand and guiding him toward the elevator.
"It'd be lots of fun..." he trailed off in a sing-song voice.
"No," she said flatly as they entered the elevator.
"I could make it lots of fun," he boasted.
"I'm sure you could." They stood in silence for a few moments until Darien began to sing to the elevator music. Unfortunately, there were no words to the music. She put a hand on his arm to calm him down, "Darien, please no more singing."
He smiled lazily and put his arms around her, "You want to play Seven Minutes of Heaven, don't you?"
Unwrapping his arms around her and pulling him out of the elevator, she rolled her eyes, "No, I still don't."
She opened the door to the luxurious suite down the hall and guided him inside as best she could. Guiding him to the bedroom, she left him there to go brew coffee. He grew quiet and she began to worry. "Darien, are you okay?" When she received no response, she ran to the bedroom to find him rummaging through the mini bar. She saw him pull out a little bottle of rum and she snatched it out of his hands, "No Darien!" she scolded, slamming the door shut.
He glared at her, growing very angry all of a sudden. "Give it to me, Serena," he said darkly and began to advance toward her.
She shook her head and moved away from him, frightened by his sudden change in demeanor. "Darien, you've had enough. Anymore and I'll have to take you to the hospital."
"Give me the bottle," he growled, considerably louder this time.
"You'll be comatose if you take one more drink! Is that what you want?" she yelled back, still moving away.
"Yes! That's exactly what I want!" he barked.
She froze, "What?"
"Don't you get it?" his voice was one of a tortured soul, "I want to be numb. I don't want to feel anymore."
"Why?" she reluctantly asked, afraid to hear his response.
"Because it hurts too much," he whispered, falling back onto the bed.
The silence was so piercing that it nearly ripped her apart until she heard a soft, broken sound. She looked over at him in astonishment. He was crying.
"Darien..." she whispered consolingly, unsure of what to do. Hesitantly, she approached him.
He stared up at the canopy of the bed, crystalline tears falling unchecked from his eyes. "You know what the funny thing about love is?" She shook her head and he continued. "You wait your whole life for it, and when you have it, you're the happiest person in the world. But when you lose something that you love, even though it felt wonderful, you... you wish you never loved in the first place."
"Why?" she asked, breathless.
"Because the memory of something so perfect kills you when you realize that you can't ever have it again. Because love itself becomes a memory."
She was speechless. How could she have known that he carried that much pain?
"The memory of what I had with you kills me, Serena. I've carried it with me for years."
Her brow furrowed, "Years?"
Smiling bitterly, he turned to her, his previously glazed eyes exhibiting lucidity for one clear moment. "I've been in love with you since I was eighteen years old. I never stopped."
AN: Like it? Hate it with the fire of a thousand suns? Let me know. I can take it. That ending sounded kind of final, didn't it? (Or maybe it was begging for a one-chapter quick fix ending). Don't fear; that's not the case. I still have much more to put them through and lots to explain. Oh, and please review my story! Let me know what you think!
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Chapter Seven: Fancy Meeting You Here
A muffled chime of Für Elise could be heard amidst the bustling crowds in the airport. Struggling with luggage and flight papers, Serena attempted to find her ringing cell phone at the bottom of her purse. Feeling rather triumphant after finding it through receipts, credit cards, and makeup, her smile of satisfaction fell as she checked the number of the caller. She should have known this was coming.
Groaning, she wearily turned on the phone and gave a bored, "Hello?"
"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE!" Mina screamed on the other line. Serena held the phone away from her ear as her enraged friend continued her tirade. "Leaving me a message like that! How could you not call me?" Her screeches drifted into whines. "How could you not give details?"
Serena rolled her eyes and adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder while trying to find a seat in the crowded terminal. "I pretty much said all that there was to say, Mina."
"Excuse me? All you said was, 'Hey Mina. Just wanted to let you know that I broke up with Darien and a friend of mine passed away. I'll be gone for a week. Get my mail for me.' That is pathetic!" The screeching was back.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't let you in on every last detail of my life, but I'm rather busy and grief-stricken at the moment."
"Where are you?"
She sighed and found an empty seat in a waiting area. "The airport. My flight leaves in twenty minutes."
"So, you have time!" Mina said brightly. Serena shook her head. "Why don't I simply ask the questions and you answer?"
Serena slumped in her chair. "Fine."
"Okay!" Mina exclaimed, "First of all, who died?"
"You have no tact at all, you know that?"
"Less questions, more answers," Mina shot back.
"A friend of mine from high school, Ann Crane. Of a brain aneurysm."
Mina gasped, "How awful! Did you correspond with her at all?"
Serena shrugged. "Letters... e-mails... We'd lost touch as of late."
"So why are you going to her funeral?"
Frowning, she fished for her passport while juggling her phone. "Do you even realize how terrible that sounds?" she sighed, "We were good friends for a long time and apparently, I'm in her will."
"A twenty-five year old had a will?"
"She had money... I guess just in case."
"Still, a twenty-five year old died of a brain aneurysm? I'm no doctor but-"
"Damn straight. Have a little respect, Mina, and don't question it."
"Fine, fine. I'll let it go. But it sounds weird to me," she paused. "So where's the funeral, anyway?"
"London. I guess her family lives there now. Her brother told me that she'd recently moved there to be closer to them."
"Allan Crane?"
"Yes, Allan Crane."
"Mmm, Serena. That man was one of People's most eligible bachelors! Go after him!"
"Mina, a funeral is not a place to hook up. Tackiness knows no bounds when it comes to you, does it?"
Mina seemed to ignore the statement. "That brings me to my next question: what happened with Darien?"
"Basically, he told me that he was in love with me and I dumped him." She decided that certain details best be left out of the story.
"Oh come on, there had to be more to it than that!"
She groaned, "Okay, okay. We had a fight about what happened when we were teenagers after he told me he loved me. I blew up at him and he apologized. I guess I didn't believe him and left. End of story." Somehow hearing what happened again made her feel less validated in dumping him.
Mina was uncharacteristically quiet. "Are you okay?"
She shrugged. "I dunno... I feel... empty. We spent nearly every day of six months together and now nothing. Maybe I felt more for him than I originally planned."
"You can't plan love, Serena. Has he tried to contact you at all?"
"Once. I saw his name on Caller ID, but I didn't pick up. What was I supposed to say? And still... it was a few days ago. He hasn't tried to contact me since then."
"Serena, Serena, Serena... you poor fool. Don't hate me for saying this, but maybe you should give it another try. Face it; you're in love with the guy! And he loves you! Do you know how few people find what you have? Put your past behind you and give it a go!"
Serena dropped her bag and sat back down, nearly speechless. "Mina, I think that's the most mature thing I've ever heard you say."
"Yes, I know I'm a genius. Now go before you miss your plane."
Serena smiled for the first time since the breakup. "Thanks, Mina."
"You're welcome. And contact him when you get back! I wouldn't want my wisdom to go to waste!"
"We'll see. I've gotta go." With that, she hung up and made her way to the terminal. Maybe she'd contact him when she got back. Maybe.
****
She arrived in London a day later, cold and tired after having to switch planes twice. Allan had insisted on paying for her hotel, despite her relentless protests. Not only did he pay for her hotel, but he reserved her a room in the most expensive hotel in London.
Trudging wearily over to the front desk, she was barely able to appreciate her lavish surroundings in her sleep-deprived state. After receiving her room key, she headed toward the elevator when she suddenly stopped at the sight of a shock of familiar black hair.
Entering the elevator was a man that she could have sworn was Darien. Shaking her head at her foolishness, she chalked the hallucination up to lack of sleep and headed toward the stairs. Even if it wasn't him, she couldn't be too careful. She couldn't face him yet.
****
Later that evening, she arrived at the church where the funeral was being held. As soon as she walked through the heavy oak doors of the old-fashioned cathedral, she spotted an auburn-haired man of about thirty greeting black-clad guests. Allan stood near the entrance as an elderly lady hung on him, sobbing, as he attempted to comfort her. Deciding to save him from the awkward situation, she headed over to him.
"Allan?" she asked as she watched the woman soak his once clean shirt.
He looked up from his current predicament and his round brown eyes showed immense relief. "Serena... it's good to see you... Mrs. O'Reilly, I'm sorry but I have to speak with a friend of mine." He handed the old woman off to her husband and walked over to her. "Guess I'll have to have this dry cleaned..." he deadpanned, looking at his stained shirt.
Serena smiled, "That was very nice of you," she paused, unsure of what to say to him, "How are you, Allan?"
He smiled weakly, "As good as possible, considering..." he trailed off and stuck his hands in the pockets of his black suit jacket.
She patted his arm sympathetically. "I understand. I'm sorry that I can't be more of a help."
He put an arm around her and smiled slightly. "Just being here helps." Pausing for a moment, he gazed at her searchingly. "My goodness, Serena Tsukino, how you've grown! The last time I saw you, you were eighteen years old."
She grinned at the nostalgia. "Last time I saw you, you were still in college," she sighed, "It's scary how time flies..."
He nodded. "You know what I find interesting?"
Tilting her head to the side, she said, "Enlighten me."
"Out of all the people I've met, and I've met quite a few people, you are the one person that has never changed."
"Really?"
He nodded, "It's a very rare quality. You're exactly the same."
She raised an eyebrow at the statement, "And how am I?"
"Perfect," he responded, "Absolutely perfect."
Serena stood in shock at her old friend's comment. If he only knew... She was far from perfect and thought, once again, about the person that had proven it. "Darien?"
Allan's brow furrowed, "Excuse me?"
Her heart began to pound as she spotted her ex-boyfriend entering the sanctuary. Still looking as wonderful as ever, she simply wanted to die as she saw him approach Allan with someone on his arm. Did he have to look so damned attractive all the time? Much less with a date? She felt sick to her stomach and decided that she couldn't deal with him seeing someone else, "I'm sorry, Allan. I just saw someone that I used to know and..." she saw him coming closer to where they were standing, but she was almost positive that he hadn't seen her yet. "And... I really need to use the bathroom. Greet them for me?"
He looked at her as though she'd grown an arm out of her head. "Are you okay?" She nodded, desperately trying to avoid being seen. He smiled knowingly. "If you're trying to avoid someone, we can go sit down."
She stared up at him, surprised, "I'm that obvious?"
"Aside from the fact that you're as pale as a ghost and you look like you're going to be sick, not at all."
She'd lost him in the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief, "Good."
Allan looked at her strangely and was about to speak when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Both turned around to find Darien with Beryl on his arm.
'The nerve of that bastard!' she thought as she watched Darien immediately tense up when he noticed her and Beryl, whose nose was fixed, look unbelievably smug. She noticed that he looked tired... He was pale and had a hint of stubble on his cheek, yet he still managed to take her breath away. She shook her head at her thoughts; why should she worry about him when he had tall, artificial, and skanky to look after him? She laughed inwardly. Perhaps Beryl's face was back to normal, but her fashion sense was off as usual: she wore an obnoxiously tight red dress. Leave it to her to wear a bright color to a funeral.
"Hello Allan." The low timbre of Darien's voice broke her out of her musings. He turned to her and nodded politely, "Serena."
"Darien..." she whispered, completely mortified. And here she thought he was sitting at home, still pining away for her in the states. "What are you doing here?"
He looked at her coldly and she felt her eyes begin to well up. She forced herself to push back the tears and looked into his steely blue gaze. She'd always loved his eyes, she thought sadly; when he looked at her, his eyes that were usually so harsh and cold softened and seemed to encompass her. Now there was no trace of softness, just empty orbs that held no emotion. "What do you think?"
Allan turned to her, confused by the awkward situation. "Darien is the executor of Ann's will."
"Oh," she responded, not knowing what else to say. Luckily, the uncomfortable silence was filled by the shrill tone of Beryl's voice.
"Allan, I was just so upset when I heard about Ann. What a terrible tragedy!" she wailed, and Allan's eyes narrowed in doubt.
"I wasn't aware that you were a friend of Ann's," Serena commented, suspicion apparent in her voice.
"Oh, I almost forgot that you were here," Beryl spat. "What was your name again? Sara? Sienna? Seneca? Some strange name like that?"
"Serena," she deadpanned in annoyance.
"Yes, yes, Serena. You were that unfortunate girl from high school, weren't you?"
It was all that Serena could do not to punch the woman's lights out. "I wouldn't say unfortunate. Just..." she looked straight at Darien and spoke with venom in her voice, "naïve." Darien flinched almost imperceptibly.
"Yes, well you and Ann were two peas in a pod I suppose. Both tragic."
Everyone stood in shocked silence at Beryl's uncouth remark. Allan was the first to recover, "Remind me again why the hell you're here."
Beryl seemed unaffected by the glares. "Ann was an employee at one of daddy's companies. We were all saddened at Vandergrift Inc. when we heard about her tragic passing. Daddy sent me as a personal representative of the company to offer our condolences. Plus," she smiled smugly and traced a long red fingernail down Darien's jacket, "Dare-bear gave me a ring the other day and asked me to accompany him." Serena could not have been any more humiliated than she was at that moment. He'd gotten over her with the woman he claimed meant nothing to him! "I heard about what you did to my poor Darien, Sienna."
"It's Serena," she corrected as she dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to prevent herself from strangling Beryl. Allan's hands on her shoulders did nothing to alleviate the extreme need to wrap her hands around Beryl's neck and squeeze. Hard.
"Whatever," Beryl said breezily, as if the name was irrelevant, "It was a very very mean and stupid thing to do. I mean, what kind of pathetic loser lets a man like this," she looked him up and down, evoking a blush out of him, "get away over some trivial childhood fight?" She circled Serena, much like Darien had done ten years earlier. "But then again, I should probably thank you. Your loss is my gain."
She wanted to cry. She wanted to go home and hide in her room like she had as a teenager. But that was no longer an option. She didn't live at home anymore. She was an adult and she would deal with her problems on her own. The only thing she had left was her pride. Humiliation was no longer in her mind: revenge was the only word that reverberated through her head. She swallowed her tears and pasted an unbelievably fake smile on her face. "What kind of loser would let him go?" she asked with saccharine sweetness and innocence, "The only kind I can think of is the self-respecting kind. But of course, you wouldn't know anything about that." She could see the anger in Beryl's eyes and knew her barbs were working. "As for a loss?" She laughed, "I didn't lose a thing. And you know what else?" she leaned in close, as if she were telling them the most important secret in the world. She watched in amusement as both of their faces reddened: Beryl's in anger, Darien's in embarrassment. "I don't want him. You can have him." With that, she took Allan's hand and turned her back on them, walking away to greet visitors. Never again would she allow them to intimidate her. Never.
Hours after the service, the group headed back to Allan's mansion for the execution of the will. Serena stood in Allan's study, waiting for the other guests to arrive, while he went to speak with his parents. She strolled over to one of the tall bookcases, examining his enormous collection of literature. Hearing the heavy door creak open behind her, she didn't turn around, but said, "I take it someone has quite the fascination with books."
"I manage a book here and there, when I'm not busy, which is rarely. But you know that." The deliciously rough, low voice was most certainly not Allan's. She turned around in shock to find Darien leaning against the dark mahogany desk in the corner. "I take it you weren't expecting me."
"No shit, Sherlock," she muttered. She headed toward the door, "I need to go find Allan."
She stopped when she felt his hand on her arm. Against her will, her heart began to beat faster as that little spark of attraction that was always there became apparent. She turned to face him, annoyed. "What do you want?"
He gazed at her searchingly. "Why all the hostility?"
She looked at him incredulously. "Why the hell do you think? You brought Beryl, Queen of All Things Slutty, to my friend's funeral! I'm seriously beginning to doubt your intelligence."
He glared at her, "What do you care if I bring her? You were the one who dumped me, if I remember correctly."
"You really think that it was easy for me to walk away, don't you?" she asked quietly.
"Of course it was," he spat heatedly, "You were using me from day one."
She blanched. "Using you?"
"I know all about your plan, Serena. The only reason you dated me was to get revenge. You know, wait until I fall in love with you and cut me loose. I didn't realize it until after the fact, but it's obvious. No need to lie to me anymore."
She sighed and decided to fess up. "Fine. I admit it. I was dating you to get revenge at the beginning. But what did you expect? You ruined my life."
"Then it will please you to know that you've ruined mine as well. We're even."
"I'm... I'm normally not such a malicious person, Darien. I didn't mean to ruin your life. I just wanted you to feel all the hurt that I felt, but at the end... I guess I didn't hate you as much as I thought," she said quietly.
He smirked, "Don't tell me that you actually felt something for me."
"You know what? I don't know why I even bother with you. I'm going to go find Allan-"
"So you can go cry to him and his bag of money? You're using him too. It's obvious that he has feelings for you and you don't give a shit," he interjected.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" she shot back, furious.
"And you're a selfish bitch," he retorted with a razor sharp glint in his eye, "But for some reason, I still want you."
"Well that's just too damn bad because-"
"Are we ready?" Allan asked, entering the room and cutting Serena off. A small group of people followed him in.
Serena took a seat at the long conference table, visibly shaken, and replied, "Of course."
It was nine o'clock at night when the last of the guests finally left Allan's mansion. She and Allan hadn't eaten anything since before the service, so he suggested that they get a quite bite to eat. She reluctantly accepted, Darien's words repeating themselves over and over in her head.
'You're using him... even though he has feelings for you... you're using him...' He wouldn't leave her alone. Even in another country, they just had to find each other. She was beginning to think that fate was playing the biggest practical joke of all time on her. She hadn't expected to see him so soon after the breakup. She hadn't expected to see him so... bitter.
"Serena? Serena, we're here," Allan's gentle voice cut through her thoughts and she stepped out of the black Lamborghini into the cool night air. He took her hand as they walked down the street to the restaurant.
A man walking swiftly in the opposite direction suddenly slammed into Serena as they walked down the sidewalk. Serena looked up to find Darien in a trench coat looking rather disconcerted.
"Darien..." she whispered, trying to collect herself. "Um... are you okay?"
His eyes were glassy and unfocused as he looked from her to Allan and back again. He looked at her, feeling betrayed, and whispered gruffly, "No," before walking in the opposite direction that he came from and into a well-lit pub at the end of the street.
Allan held her by the shoulders and looked at her worriedly, "Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with that guy?"
"I'm fine," she began walking and he followed. "If you're wondering, that," she said dryly, "was my ex-boyfriend. We had a less than amicable breakup."
"I suspected as much," he smiled. "Well in my opinion, he's a fool."
"Hmm?"
"For not going after you. Only a fool would do that."
She smiled and wondered if perhaps Darien was right in his assumptions. "Thanks Allan."
****
After dinner at a five-star restaurant that was supposed to have been a quick, simple dinner, Serena and Allan decided to walk off their meal. They lazily walked past the pub that Serena had seen Darien go into and Allan stopped.
"I could use a drink. How 'bout you?" he asked.
Since she was certain that Darien would be long gone, she accepted, "Sure."
They entered the respectable-looking pub and took a seat at the bar. After ordering their drinks, they looked to the other end of the bar where an extremely drunk man was lamenting his troubles to the world.
The ruddy-faced bartender approached them, shaking his head. "That man over there, I knew he was trouble when he came in. And he's already been in twice in one night!"
Serena gazed at the poor man in the corner of the bar. He had a five o'clock shadow, was nearly delirious, and sat like a huddled mass of sorrow nursing a scotch. "Why did you serve him?" she asked, feeling sorry for the crestfallen man.
"He came in here throwing quite a bit of money on the bar, asking for as much liquor as it could buy. So I gave it to him. He left after about thirty minutes and came back five minutes later. The poor boy seems to be heartbroken; kept yelling about a Serena over there in the corner."
Serena's eyes widened and she took a closer look at the half-conscious man at the other end of the bar. Darien! She rushed over to him right before he fell off the barstool. Steadying him as best she could, she tried to get his attention, "Darien?"
His glazed eyes fell upon her and it seemed as though he barely recognized her, "Serena?" he asked confusedly.
"Yes, Darien, it's me. I'm taking you home."
"Nonsense!" he said a bit too loudly, "I can -hic- drive myself. Just let me find my keys." He picked up a bowl of peanuts, "Here they are!" he said joyfully, flinging them in Allan's face, who had followed Serena to help steady him.
"He's taking a cab home," Allan deadpanned, removing the remaining peanuts from his hair.
Serena gazed at him pleadingly. "Allan, he doesn't know what he's doing. He can't get back to the hotel by himself."
"Then you can take him back to the hotel," he said irritably, "because I am too damned tired to deal with a drunken idiot that has been nothing but rude to us the entire day."
"He could hurt himself, Allan," she pleaded, and Darien chimed in with a "Yeah," even though he had no idea what they were talking about.
Allan rolled his eyes, "Fine. I'll take you guys back to the hotel."
Serena smiled and hugged him, "Thank you!"
Darien glared at them. "Don't touch her...wait...don't touch him..." he turned to Allan, "I don't like you."
Allan simply ignored the comment and helped get Darien to the Lamborghini parked down the street. Darien sat in the cushioned back seat, leaning heavily on Serena.
Somehow, his head ended up in her lap and he looked up at her with happy, glazed eyes, "Hi."
She groaned, "Hello Darien." That must have been the seventh time he'd said that.
He smiled contentedly, "You're very pretty."
She smiled back slightly, "Thanks."
Playing with a strand of golden hair, he gazed at her innocently, "Can we have sex?"
The car swerved and Serena sat in shock. "No, we cannot have sex," she finally managed to respond.
"Why?" the question was asked so innocently he almost seemed childlike.
"Because I didn't sleep with you when you were sober and I'm certainly not going to sleep with you now that you're wasted."
"I'm not wasted!" he exclaimed indignantly, "I only had one or two or ten -hic- drinks!" He began to laugh hysterically at his own private joke.
Serena sighed. It was going to be a long night.
****
Allan dropped them off at the hotel after a painstakingly long ride back. He'd offered to help get Darien up to his room but she'd refused; she'd imposed on him enough in one night. She took him into the sitting area of the lobby and tried to find his room key. After checking every pocket in his coat, she deduced that he must have put it in his pants pocket.
She asked him to empty his pockets, but she got no response from him except for a giggle. Deciding that there was no other way to get the room key, she began to check his pants for the key. He was smiling and she stopped for a moment. "What is it?" she asked in annoyance.
He grinned foolishly, "You're feeling me up!"
"I am not," she shot back, feeling too tired to argue, "Where's your room key, Darien?"
Pulling it out of his wallet, he grinned, "What will you do for it?" he asked, holding it just out of her reach.
"Excuse me?"
"I have the key and you want it. What will you give me for it?"
"I don't have time for games, Darien," she scolded, her patience wearing thin.
"Games? I know a fun game that we can play! Ever heard of -hic- Seven Minutes of Heaven?"
"Yes, I've heard of it and we're not playing it," she snapped, seizing the key from his limp hand and guiding him toward the elevator.
"It'd be lots of fun..." he trailed off in a sing-song voice.
"No," she said flatly as they entered the elevator.
"I could make it lots of fun," he boasted.
"I'm sure you could." They stood in silence for a few moments until Darien began to sing to the elevator music. Unfortunately, there were no words to the music. She put a hand on his arm to calm him down, "Darien, please no more singing."
He smiled lazily and put his arms around her, "You want to play Seven Minutes of Heaven, don't you?"
Unwrapping his arms around her and pulling him out of the elevator, she rolled her eyes, "No, I still don't."
She opened the door to the luxurious suite down the hall and guided him inside as best she could. Guiding him to the bedroom, she left him there to go brew coffee. He grew quiet and she began to worry. "Darien, are you okay?" When she received no response, she ran to the bedroom to find him rummaging through the mini bar. She saw him pull out a little bottle of rum and she snatched it out of his hands, "No Darien!" she scolded, slamming the door shut.
He glared at her, growing very angry all of a sudden. "Give it to me, Serena," he said darkly and began to advance toward her.
She shook her head and moved away from him, frightened by his sudden change in demeanor. "Darien, you've had enough. Anymore and I'll have to take you to the hospital."
"Give me the bottle," he growled, considerably louder this time.
"You'll be comatose if you take one more drink! Is that what you want?" she yelled back, still moving away.
"Yes! That's exactly what I want!" he barked.
She froze, "What?"
"Don't you get it?" his voice was one of a tortured soul, "I want to be numb. I don't want to feel anymore."
"Why?" she reluctantly asked, afraid to hear his response.
"Because it hurts too much," he whispered, falling back onto the bed.
The silence was so piercing that it nearly ripped her apart until she heard a soft, broken sound. She looked over at him in astonishment. He was crying.
"Darien..." she whispered consolingly, unsure of what to do. Hesitantly, she approached him.
He stared up at the canopy of the bed, crystalline tears falling unchecked from his eyes. "You know what the funny thing about love is?" She shook her head and he continued. "You wait your whole life for it, and when you have it, you're the happiest person in the world. But when you lose something that you love, even though it felt wonderful, you... you wish you never loved in the first place."
"Why?" she asked, breathless.
"Because the memory of something so perfect kills you when you realize that you can't ever have it again. Because love itself becomes a memory."
She was speechless. How could she have known that he carried that much pain?
"The memory of what I had with you kills me, Serena. I've carried it with me for years."
Her brow furrowed, "Years?"
Smiling bitterly, he turned to her, his previously glazed eyes exhibiting lucidity for one clear moment. "I've been in love with you since I was eighteen years old. I never stopped."
AN: Like it? Hate it with the fire of a thousand suns? Let me know. I can take it. That ending sounded kind of final, didn't it? (Or maybe it was begging for a one-chapter quick fix ending). Don't fear; that's not the case. I still have much more to put them through and lots to explain. Oh, and please review my story! Let me know what you think!