A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!

BOOK ONE - PART ONE - CHAPTER ONE

"Get me a gin and juice." 30-year-old Sam Puckett lifted herself onto a barstool, waiting there for a couple of minutes until the bartender brought over her drink. The bar was empty except for them and one other patron.

"That'll be nine dollars." The bartender held out his hand.

Sam, already reaching into her pocket, stopped and looked up. "Nine dollars? What happened to seven?"

The bartender shrugged. "Price bump. You got the money or what?"

Sam clutched the cash inside her pocket. She didn't need to pull it out to check; she knew exactly what she had left—a five and two well-worn ones. There was also some change in her other pocket, but it couldn't have added up to more than a dollar. Which meant she couldn't afford her drink. Which was nothing new, but it was still extremely disappointing. Not to mention embarrassing. "No, actually, I…" Sam slid off her barstool and started backing away, "Sorry, I'm over a buck short. I'll come back another time." Just before she could step through the doors, she heard the bartender call out behind her.

"Puckett!"

Sam stopped and turned around.

"You can have it for seven. Friends and family discount," the bartender told her.

Sam wasn't sure that was even a real thing, but she wasn't about to argue. She re-took her place on the barstool, set her cash down on the counter, and grabbed her drink. "Thanks, man. 'ppreciate it."

"Haven't seen you around lately," the bartender lightly remarked, tapping buttons on a cash register.

"I haven't had much extra cash lately," Sam mumbled the truth, taking a sip. "I found a $20 bill on the ground last night. Luckiest thing that's happened to me in months, and it was on my birthday. I already gambled away most of it, but I had a little bit left. So, I figured I'd celebrate with a drink."

After chatting for a while, the bartender went to help another person who came in. Sam relaxed a little more, enjoying the warm temperature inside the building and sipping her drink.

Outside, it was windy and cold, which was very unusual for late summer in LA. The pouring rain was likely to turn into a thunderstorm by the end of the night. Sam didn't want to be stuck out there in the middle of it. She tried to drink slowly, because she knew she'd have to leave once she was done. And that was a problem, because she didn't exactly have anywhere to leave to. She had been living on the street for the past two years with only her beat-up motorcycle left to her name.

Sam got lost in her thoughts, staring into space and daydreaming, trying to ignore the throbbing ache surrounding her left upper chest and shoulder. She had gotten mildly injured in a hit-and-run last week by a rival gang member and couldn't afford medical care. She was pretty sure something was torn, but knew nothing could be done about it. Putting it out of her mind, she spun her barstool around and looked around the bar. None of the TVs were on; it was still too early in the day, but a small, aged radio was playing back behind the counter. Sam had been mostly tuning it out, until she heard, "And this is Catarina Valentine of JTC's new single, just dropped today: here's "Raining Mercury."

Sam's stomach somersaulted. Choking on her drink and struggling to regain her breath, she called out, "Mac! Can you turn the radio up a little?"

The bartender cranked up the volume just in time for the song to start. "Better?"

"Yeah, yeah, now shut up," Sam hushed him as she listened to the music beginning to play.

The next few minutes went by in a blur, and by the end of the song, there were tears streaming down Sam's face. At first, she hadn't wanted to believe it—that Cat had written it for her—but she couldn't deny how perfectly it fit the situation between them two. The track was full of references to their past together; references which only she would understand. And as if the words themselves weren't enough proof, Sam then recalled the date. Today was April 18th, the day after her 30th birthday. Ten years ago, the day after her 20th birthday, Sam made the choice to join a motorcycle gang and had left Cat, LA, and their babysitting business, behind. To this day, it was Sam's greatest regret.

And now here they were, exactly ten years later, and their lives couldn't have been more different. For four years, Sam had traveled the country with a biker gang—the Obliterators. Then, at age twenty-four, an unexpected and horrific incident occurred which changed her life permanently. She spent the following four years in prison. Since finally being released around two years ago, she'd fallen into addiction, homelessness, and perpetual unemployment. She had lost contact with everyone important in her life, including all her friends and family.

Cat, on the other hand, had found major success. She, along with her friends Jade and Tori, had formed a pop trio shortly following their graduation from high school. After releasing over a dozen record-breaking singles over the next eight years, they were all known worldwide now, and were all very wealthy.

Sam had watched Cat gradually become more and more famous through the media over the years. It started with small interviews, then it progressed to live concerts, and then eventually a nationwide tour. Almost everyone knew who JTC was now—Cat was a household name. Most people referred to her as Catarina now, but in Sam's head, she would always be Cat. And she had never stopped missing her. There had been multiple times over the years when Sam had broken down and considered trying to find her again, but something always stopped her from taking the risk. Surely Cat the celebrity would want nothing to do with Sam the homeless ex-convict. She eventually just put the idea out of her head entirely.

At least, until now. She hadn't dared let herself believe that Cat might still be missing her after all this time, but she knew that song was for her. She could feel it—a tightness in her stomach; butterflies in the hollow in her chest that had been there since the last time she looked into Cat's eyes. She was disgusted with herself.

"Whoa. What the hell, Puckett?" Mac tossed her a stack of napkins, which she used to dry her tears.

Sam was still in shock. She just shook her head, unable to speak for a minute. Then she gave out a choked laugh. "What would you say if I told you that song was written for me?"

"The new Catarina one?" Mac chuckled, lazily wiping down the counter with a cloth, only half paying attention to her. "Yeah, I hear you. We all wish."

"No, I mean—" Sam's heart was racing with adrenaline. She knew what she needed to do. "Do you have any idea how I can find out where Cat—Catarina lives?"

Mac raised his eyebrows. "You feelin' okay?"

Sam wiped the tears off her face. "You got a phone I can use?"

"Well, sure, but… you're kind of freaking me out, man," Mac chuckled nervously. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "You're not actually serious, are you? About knowing Catarina?"

Sam didn't bother with a response. She immediately went online to Zaplook and searched for the addresses of the members of JTC. They were famous enough now that it was basically public information where they lived. She looked up from the phone. "Hey, do you have anything I could use to write this down?"

"Uh, sure." Mac searched around behind the bar and eventually returned with a small pad of paper and a purple marker. He handed them over to Sam and watched her copy down the address of Catarina's house. He was a little concerned about her intentions—she had been coming here for years now, so he knew she enjoyed doing things that were risky. "Hey, I don't think you can just, like, show up at the door, though," he told her. "I'm pretty sure their houses are gated."

"I don't care." Sam finished writing, tore the scrap of paper away, and shoved it in her pocket. "I'm not letting another ten years ago by. It's time."

Mac stammered, "Uh, don't you think you're reading a little too far into things? I mean, that song could've been about anyone. You don't know Catarina. She probably has lots of fans who wish her songs were about them."

Sam shook her head. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." She gulped down the last of her drink, then slid down off her barstool. "I gotta get going before that storm gets any worse. Thanks for the drink."

"What are you gonna do?" Mac asked, collecting her empty glass.

"I'm gonna go find Cat," Sam replied simply, which earned her another strange look from Mac. She didn't care. She took a deep breath, turned to face the doors, and stepped out into the storm.