I know, I know, the music career thing has been done. But this is my take on it and I really like it (personally). I have more original and new stuff in the works and coming soon so just be patient for me!

The lyrics in this fic have been altered. Just a few words here and there that didn't alter the rhythm or the meaning. I just don't want to get in trouble with copyright! That said; I do not own Sailor Moon. I tend to forget to say that but I'm pretty sure you ALL know that already.

If you want more of this fic or others; check out my Tumblr!

Chapter One

"There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one."

― Kazuo Ishiguro

His legs, arms, everything was numb as fear raced through his veins. The only thing he felt was his heart and it was ice cold.

There had to be a mistake.

The woman he had trusted and shared all of his work and effort with, the one he thought cared about him as much as he did her, would never do this to him. Not his sweet and innocent girlfriend of the last two years, two years of normal happy couple shit. He had put up with so much with her and she had learned to love his stubbornness. Hadn't she?

So when his producer said that Bethany had pulled all their songs from the upcoming record, claiming them as hers, he knew that it had to be some kind of misunderstanding.

Their apartment was nearly empty, Bethany taking far more than what should be considered hers and it all started to sink in. She was leaving him. And she was taking everything.

He wasn't even sure she was still there but he searched anyway; frantic and wild like his heart. Their bedroom was void of any life on her side and she was nowhere in sight. It wasn't until he stumbled down the stairs that he found her and what (he assumed) was her last suitcase in her hand.

"Beth! What the fuck is going on?!"

She spared him a glance and a huff before heading to the door without a word otherwise. Jumping, he landed in front of her, stopping every other attempt of hers to leave.

"You're leaving me? And you took all our songs?! Why?"

Finally stopping, she glared up at him and his heart trembled. "Why? WHY?! Of course, that's what you ask about, what Darien Blaze cares about. You care more about your stupid music than you ever did me. I took them because I'm tired of being second to you and I knew this would hurt you far more than me just leaving you. Those songs belong to me and they will be far better on my own album, not yours!"

The woman that he shared his life with for years had just ripped his heart out and now it stuck to the heel of her stiletto as she made for the door. "I care about you...and we wrote those songs together…"

"And your record label was all too happy to give them to me. What does that tell you?"

"It tells me that you used me! Rode my back to rise to the top and then jumped off at the first chance. There's a word for people like you, Beth!"

Flipping back to him, she sneered. "What is it? Smart? Clever? Regardless of what you say or think, I would have made it this far without you and frankly, it would've been better if I had." At some point, he had fallen to the ground and he didn't even realize it till she leaned down over him, getting right in his face. "I can honestly say I wish I had never met you."

The door slammed and all he wanted in that moment was to go back to feeling numb. The woman that he loved, that he thought he loved, walked out on their life together, taking everything. His time, effort, support, coffee table, and all the songs he had spent the last six months writing and recording. He had nothing but feelings.

So he went to the liquor cabinet, thankful it remained untouched and made those feelings go away.

oOo

She wasn't sure what she would be walking into. The only time anyone had seen or heard from Darien Blaze in the last year had all been amateur and paparazzi taking shots of him while he was out and about... and it was not good. She had been understanding...for a while. For longer than she probably should have been and now it was time for him to get his ass in gear!

Using her key, she let herself in and...well it could have been worse. The place was clean, top to bottom, looking more like it wasn't lived in than just tidy. She had really been expecting it to be like a dumpster fire. But Darien was never really the type to leave a mess for long. Except his life apparently.

"Darien?!"

Silence. Was he not home? Eight in the morning, where else could he have gone? He sure as hell wasn't where he should be, working.

The black metal of the steps to the loft creaked with her weight, making her question their stability as always. Even though the place looked in good care, she knew it was only a matter of searching before she found signs of his issues. And so she did, Darien out cold in his bed with a bottle of half-consumed dark liquid on his nightstand.

"Darien?" He didn't stir, so she went to the side and kicked the bed hard. "DARIEN!" Still nothing.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. This was what she told herself as she dipped the bottle of water from her purse over and spilled it on his head. Sputtering and cursing, the man finally rose and she saw even more proof that he still didn't have his shit together. Thick beard on his face and blood-shot eyes, her usually calm, cool, and collected brother was showing all the symptoms.

"What the fuck, Raye?!"

"You wouldn't wake up. I got worried."

He scrubbed his face, sitting on his wet sheets. "What are you doing here?"

Darien was muttering. As if he was asking a question (to which) he really didn't care what the answer to it was. "I'm here because your producer called," he interrupted her with a groan but she continued, "and she wants you to return to the land of the living. As do we all!"

"She just wants more money from me."

"Of course, she does! But she also believes in you; otherwise, she wouldn't have left that label with you when they stole your shit! You owe it to her, Darien, to at least try!"

Looking off at nothing, he huffed, "What difference does it make? I have nothing. No songs, no career, no life…."

"Oh, would you get over yourself already?!" Stunned, his head popped back to her, "She left you! Bethany Stone left you and took all the songs you two worked on together. But she was a bitch and we all knew it. It just took you a lot longer than the rest of us to figure it out!"

"Why didn't you…"

"WE DID! Repeatedly! But nooooo...you wouldn't listen to us! And now, that bitch is singing your songs, making a killing, and living YOUR dream all while you lay in your own filth and rot!"

Now glaring at her, he shifted uncomfortably in the bed as if to only now notice it was wet. "So what do you suggest I do? I still don't have anything to give to Amy."

"She has it covered. Just be at the studio tomorrow at two pm. Sober!"

"I would never show up…"

"And take a shower!"

She was already making her way down the stairs, having few doubts Darien wouldn't at least get his ass to the studio tomorrow as promised. Whether he agreed to what Amy had planned was yet to be seen.

oOo

Raye looked just as shocked as she felt, the woman that stood before them now not at all what they expected. "Um…"

The golden girl gently pressed her large, black-rimmed glasses back in place on her nose and stuck out her hand to them. "Serena Lune. Don't worry, I get that a lot."

Raye recovered, extending a hand. "Get what?"

"The, 'dear God she is young and small and blonde and not at all what I expected' deer in the headlights look you guys are giving me right now."

"It's just," Amy wasn't sure how to word this or if she should even say it, "I have to be honest here, when you were recommended and I heard of all your accolades, I just expected…"

"Someone older?"

"Yeah and not so innocent."

Serena giggled and it gave her a strange sense of calm. "Well, thank you, I haven't gotten that one before. Although, I'm not sure what innocence has to do with it…"

"You could be a model or a singer yourself!" Raye sputtered.

Serena looked as if uncomfortable by it all, squirming as she pulled at the long and pink, bunny covered shirt she donned. It was also clear in the way she dressed, the girl either didn't know or didn't give a damn about her looks. Acid wash jeans with large holes in the knees were cute but hardly model worthy. It did show off her thin legs and round hips. And her hair was LONG! Longest she had ever seen outside a record book, a thick braid on either shoulder going past her hips. It was a little hard to see her face, large glasses on and all, but bright blue eyes still shone through them. It was odd to think such a girl could write such soulful and heart wrenching ballads because who would ever want to break her heart?

She had liked everything the girl had touched though, not even realizing it until she did her research. If Serena so much as looked at a piece, Amy had loved it and didn't know why. Until today that is.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to work with us, with Darien Blaze."

"Are you kidding me? His songs got me through my teens! Not really sure why he needs my help, he is an amazing songwriter."

Raye sighed deeply, running a hand through her ebony locks. "He was three years ago. It's a long story.."

Serena frowned, "Oh I know the story. Bethany Stone stole his music and left him."

"Huh.." Raye furrowed a brow at the girl, "most people blame Darien. In fact, that's how Bethany painted it and Darien refused to say."

Serena ran a hand through her bangs, pushing them off her face only for them to fall back immediately, messier than before. "I'm not an idiot. I know his songs and I knew them even when he started working with Bethany Stone. Even though he was far better when he worked alone. But those songs she put out a year ago reeked of Blaze. How the hell was she ever allowed to get away with that? And why is Blaze just taking it?"

Raye hesitated, not sure just how much to tell this girl. Her gut told her she could trust Serena and she would probably figure it out anyway once Darien arrived. But Amy remained silent, letting Raye make the decision for her brother. "May you never have to experience the pain of having your heart ripped out and your dreams haunt you on every screen and radio."

"Let's hope today is the beginning of his return!" Amy piped out, a little too enthusiastically and earning her some looks.

Wanting to change the subject, Raye hooked arms with the blonde and began to lead them to the studio. "So, what kind of songs do you have for us today?"

A bright smile, Serena seemed to understand the change of topic. "I've got several. I don't know if Blaze will like any of them…"

"I'm sure he will love them."

oOo

What the fuck was this? Amy and Raye he understood, his producer and sister/accountant were expected to be there. So who the hell was the blonde?

Her back to him, all he got from first glance was gold and a lot of it. Were they shooting a shampoo commercial nearby?

Amy caught his eyes first and the group shifted, the blonde as well and he caught the bunnies all over her shirt. Now he felt like either laughing or puking because it had to be a sick joke, letting a little girl in the studio today. Maybe it was 'bring your kid to work' day?

The threesome stood, greeting him and he kept his eyes firmly planted on the two women he knew.

"Darien, glad you could make it." Amy didn't hide her glib tone in the slightest.

"I know, I've been out of it for a bit…"

"A bit?"

Glaring at Raye only made her giggle more, the blonde joining into his added irritation. He gave her a glance, fleeting, and lacking any real looking. "Who the hell is this?"

Amy's mouth opened but a small hand was pressed out before him, silencing her. "Serena Lune. Nice to meet you, Darien Blaze!"

Static popped his palm when he touched her and he tried to pull back, but she was persistent, grabbing him before he got away. Her skin was impossibly soft and he already hated the effect it was having on his heart. But then he made the mistake of looking her in the face.

Clear blue. The brightest and most beautiful blue eyes he had EVER seen were looking back at him. It was as if they glowed, cerulean pools making his heart stop and his brain gum up. And it pissed him off.

Ripping from her hold, he looked again to Amy, "Who the fuck is this?!"

"She is the songwriter I have hired to work with you."

All eyes were on him as a laugh barked out of him and it sounded cold to him as it bounced back off the walls. "No."

They were going to argue it with him and probably force him to work with this girl. But like hell, he was going through that shit again. Their words died as he spun on his heel and walked out. Drop him from existence, kill his already dead career, take back his Grammys he didn't give a shit. Fuck if he was ever going to work with her or anyone again.

He was back out on the street again and still, no one followed. This was a win in his book, hailing a taxi and throwing money at the man to take him to the closest bar.

oOo

By the looks on the other two's faces, they had expected that to go better. "Serena, on behalf of my brother, let me say I am so sorry!"

The two looked like they were ready to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. She held up her hands to stop them from such a thing, just in case. "It's fine. He doesn't want to work with me, we can't make him. I don't even blame him…"

Raye burst into tears, Amy looking like she might follow any second now. But for the moment, Amy was the only one able to speak. "He's in a bad place, Serena. And you are our last hope. Not only for his career but his life and health. Music was his life and it was taken from him. He has given up."

"I'm afraid...what's going to...happen to him…" Raye managed to get that much out through her sobs.

It tore her apart, a guy so clearly loved but pushing all of them away. Giving up on so much more than his music. "Why did you guys call me up?"

"Because Serena, you're known as the miracle worker. I heard how, at first, no one took you seriously. But you still got them to work with you and not only do they all want you, again and again, but each group or singer also had a boom in their career. It's not just about your talent, Serena. If you can't help him, then no one can."

Raye was pleading, practically begging her with her eyes and tone. And it was always hard for her to back away from a challenge. "Okay. I don't want either of you to worry about this. I'll take care of it."

She didn't really know where to start but Raye gave her the spare key to his place, so that was something. All she had seen or heard about Darien Blaze the last year was his drunken stupors and overnight guests. Which were always at the same time, Blaze getting wasted to near blackout and getting taken home by a 'helpful observer'. She wasn't completely convinced what those crazed fans were doing to him wasn't rape, him being far too drunk to say 'no'.

The point was, he was going to be at a bar. But which one?

New York City had thousands of bars, no way in hell she was going to be able to make some lucky guess. She knew two things; Blaze was borderline alcoholic and his trigger was his music. So being in the studio today, forced to be sober, meant he would want to go to one close by.

That narrowed it down to, oh about 30 bars! But it was a start.

It took seven bars. Seven! Before his black, messy mop popped out above the others as he sat idle in his stool. Bellied up to the bar, he was nursing a dark liquid in a short glass, his eyes on it instead of his surroundings. There were a few people taking notice, wondering if it was him if he was Darien Blaze. Right now, it was just quick looks and hushed whispers. But once the night got into full swing and they were all good and buzzed, nothing would stop them from approaching, getting their liquid courage.

As soon as she plopped on the stool next to Darien, the Bartender was on her. "Let's see some ID kid."

Darien snorted while she dug out her wallet from her pocket. "What? No Hello Kitty purse?"

His smile was to his drink, treating it like his best friend. Bartender satisfied, he smirked at her, finding her age appealing now. "What will it be, Beautiful?"

Cringing, she forced a smile on her face, "Whiskey sour. With extra cherries please."

A wink and he was gone, fetching her request. "I'm surprised you didn't ask for a White Russian. Or just milk."

He still wasn't looking at her but these were things she was used to by now. Along with the jokes about her age. "I just searched seven bars. I deserve a drink."

"She drinks at two in the afternoon. How scandalous."

"Mr. Blaze...it's four pm." He chuckled but said nothing more. "And I would appreciate it if you would stop acting like you know me. Because, frankly, you know shit."

That got his eyes. Glazed a little, they still widened at her for some reason. "Well, you got me there. But the same goes for you…"

"Darien Blaze, got his start at age 19 when he was discovered on a street corner, the one he lived on at the time. Went platinum by age 21 and won three Grammies over the next decade. Then hooked up with Bethany Stone, who two years later stole all the music the two of you worked on and made it into the worst album I have ever heard in my life."

"How the fuck do you know that? Did Raye tell you?!"

Leaning in, she got right in his face to be absolutely clear. Plus, it made her look like a badass. "I know it because I know music. I know lyrics and who they belong to with one listen. I find the meaning you think you hid in each line and I relish the look it gives me into your soul. You, Darien Blaze, have a very distinct soul and it shows in your writing. Something Bethany Stone clearly didn't get because your name was all over those songs but she was too dense to see it."

His apple bobbed before her, him swallowing thickly and she considered her message sent. His eyes went back to his drink before draining what was left and hailing for another. Her drink came with it, along with a small cup filled with cherries.

"Here you go, Beautiful. Extra cherries."

She cringed hard at the title and quickly took the offered glasses. Serena kept her eyes down and hoped Blaze didn't notice. She hoped that no one did but Blaze the most as she didn't want to show weakness in front of him. A glass full of cherries was hardly the worst thing to happen but it was an annoyance that she didn't enjoy.

Darien got his refill and she placed a couple of cherries in her drink and in her mouth. The sweet juice splashed against her tongue and she released her enjoyment from it. "If you are going to do that, then sit somewhere else."

Her eyes had closed to savor the flavor. When she opened them, Darien was glaring at her. "Do what?"

Now he looked at her like she was stupid, "Moan! While you eat it's...disgusting."

The mix of her shock and humor caused her to snort, something else that seemed to piss the dark man off. "You are the first to ever complain."

"I bet."

He took a few more sips and she figured it was now or never… "So, is Bethany why you don't want to work with me?"

At first, he looked like he might protest. Or pick her up and throw her out of her seat. "Yes."

"You know I would never do that right?" He huffed, tilting his glass back to finish it, "It's true. Mr. Blaze, I'm a writer. Not a singer. What would I do with them if I didn't have someone like you to give them to?"

"Someone like me? A washed-out drunken loser who never really had any talent?"

Her glass hit the bar top harder than she meant to but it got his attention. "Oh please. Would you stop with the self-deprecation? It's annoying."

Now he snorted, shocked, and laughing at the same time. "Fine. Then why should I work with you?"

"Because I'm talented…"

"Please you're younger than my guitar."

"What does age have to do…"

He held up his hand, rudely cutting her off. "Hush."

About to smack him, she realized he was listening to the song someone had put on the jukebox in the back. Sure she was grinning like a cat, she watched as his eyes closed and he slowly rocked to the music.

"You like this song?"

He gave her a nod but then stopped her from speaking again, his hand on her mouth this time. "Right here, this lyric."

She knew the lyrics. Quite well.

"With this love like a hole

Swallow my soul

Pulling me down

And there is black on the covers

From the curses we uttered

To each other

You had your part."

Darien's singing got a few more eyes and it was clear, whatever doubt they had about his identity was now gone. Their time was limited, but she was winning. Darien just didn't know it yet.

The song now finished, she watched him settle as some country song started blasting about honky-tonk blues. "So...you like that song?"

"I love that song! Can't you feel it? You who claims to 'get' lyrics? The terrible anguish in that song is...spellbinding."

"I wrote it."

Empty again, his glass clattered to the bar louder than when she slapped hers down. "Don't fuck with me."

"I'm not."

"You didn't write that. That song is...five, six years old?!"

"Six and a half and yes I did. What is it with you and age? You got your start at nineteen…"

"And I had a shit life to back it up before then." He was studying her closely, trying to figure her out. "Alright, what else have you written? That has been recorded and published!"

Hopping off her stool, it took little effort to pull the tipsy man off his stool with her and steer him to the jukebox. "Why don't you pick your favorites and I will tell you if I wrote them or not?" He stared at her for a long time before sneering and dropping his finger to a song title. One look and she balked, his finger on a Queen song. "Oh haha. From this decade, please."

She watched him search, picking his songs carefully. And each one she gladly told him, 'mine'.

"No way in hell you wrote this one!" She nodded silently. "No. I refuse to believe it. You are twelve and look like you shit rainbows. No way you wrote this song. Fucker brought me to tears the first time I heard it."

Shaking her head at him, she offered him a smile that also held her blush. "I'm sure most of that has to do with the singer more than me. She is very talented."

"It came out seven years ago."

"So? I wrote it when I was nineteen, just like you."

His eyes went wide and then dropped to the floor. She knew exactly what he was doing, he was doing the math and she just waited, irritated. "Shit, I'm old."

"Mr. Blaze, forget my age for just a moment please and focus. You may not think you need me, but you do. And I want to work with you."

"Why?"

The question wasn't all that strange really but she still hadn't expected it. "Because...your music matters to me. Has for a long time."

"Oh yeah? Since you were in diapers?"

"I said forget my age!"

He cringed and slowly looked back up at her. "Sorry. But..how the hell? I mean...these songs...they don't fit you at all."

She was leaning against the machine, looking over the list of songs again. Keeping her arms as a cover, she guarded her heart like she always did when someone asked things like this. "Do you really want to exchange our sad stories, Mr. Blaze?"

His eyes were wide when she looked back at him, staring right into hers and she hoped she hid her shiver as well as she thought she did. It was no loss to her, the deep shades of his eyes, his poster had been on her wall beside her bed. But it was nothing like the real thing, dark blue piercing her like the picture never did.

Several slow heartbeats later, he recovered. "You know all of mine."

"Do I?" He was silent, looking her over carefully and it was worse than getting a pile of cherries thrown at her feet, "Tell you what, you agree to work with me, and I'll tell you all. In my songs."

Her hand out to him again, he hesitated. It was her best pitch and if he didn't take it, she was sure he never would. So she waited, her hand hanging in the air like a sad trombone riff. Finally, he shifted and took her hand. This time, she ignored the static that popped their hands, the first time it shocked as well but she was far too eager to let it stop her. This time, it seemed like he was the eager one.

His hand in hers, she held on tight and made for the exit. "What the hell?"

"First things first, Mr. Blaze. You need some food to soak up that booze and we need to get out of here before the paparazzi descend."

It was already too late to stop the amateur photos and videos a few of the patrons had taken. But there were worse things to hit the media waves than the two of them having a drink together. It was doubtful any of them even knew who she was. Worst case? They would think she was another fan taking advantage and taking him home. She was pretty sure that hurt her more than him.