I know a few people on DA suggested that this fic should be BxG but I decided to explore around with different characters. Gasp, yes I know, shocking right? I just want to expand my writing to different genres and characters. I don't want to be type casted as the Bridgette/Geoff writer, although it wouldn't necessarily a bad thing, but still…Which is why I bring you this tragedy…featuring other characters…give it a whirl and let me know how it is. ADFAKDGH! (Just checking to see if any of you out there actually read these ANs)

Those of you who know Barry Manilow's song "Copacabana" should already know the plot. Lyrics are in italics

Disclaimer: I don't own TDI or Copacabana (the song, or the club in NY.)

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"That used to, hic, be me…" a drunken women slurred as she staggered into Copacabana, the hottest club in New York. Everyone on the dance floor boogied to the disco beat, except for said lady, who merely walked, slowly and awkwardly, to an empty table, knocking over a few bottles of beer in the process.

"What was that miss?" The barkeep said. He knew her, but by appearance only. She came in everyday since his father opened the club a little over thirty years ago. Always in the same outfit, wearing it like the old ball and chain, prisoner of some kind of hated memory. The clothes used to be fashionable decades ago, but now, as the barkeep had heard the woman say during one of those moments when she mumbled to herself, it made her look like a whore.

She weakly pointed to a cute blonde couple dancing a little too close to each other, a look of cynical disdain on her face as she slumped in her chair and waited for the barkeep to give her her usual, a shot of vodka, leave the bottles.

"They think they're on top of the world…but what goes up has to come down," she said cryptically. She sighed, and drank a shot of vodka in one gulp. It didn't help that said couple where dancing on…that spot, the spot where her life came crashing down. She shivered.

"Wanna talk about it?" her uninterested companion said. It wasn't like there was anything else to do; he just wanted to see if her story matched the one given by his father.

If he had taken even a second to look at her directly (which he didn't) he would've seen something flash across her eyes, before they dulled, pulling her back to a bittersweet time she both cherished and avoided, quite a few years ago.

Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl With yellow feathers in her hair, And a dress cut down to there

There's no such thing as a free lunch. That was a lesson Gwen had learnt in the early years of her life. Being the daughter of a struggling single mom trying to raise two kids was a situation which didn't leave many options in the money and future department, which would explain why she had taken the first job offered to her: a showgirl at the newly opened Copacabana.

She would meringue and do the cha-cha And while she tried to be the star, Tony always tended bar

The flashy costumes, the Latin music, the showcasing of herself to everybody, she disliked it all. But the job paid quite well, and there were other upsides to it as well, like newly appointed bartender Trent Hannigan.

She had, like with almost everything else in her life, disliked him at first, but his optimism and carefree attitude on life was refreshing. He was a failing musician and yet could still see the silver lining. Gradually, with his gentle charisma and sensitivity he began to chip the walls she built around her heart away.

Across the crowded floor, they worked from eight till four They were young, and they had each other, who could ask for more?

After work, when they had the dance floor all to themselves, they would sit, and quietly talk about things, dreams that were dashed, old lovers, and hopeful goals. Over a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon he would tell her of his love for her through his songs, and she would tell him her darkest desires through her drawings. Gwen was finally happy, and she knew why.

At the Copa, Copacabana, The hottest spot north of Havana At the Copa, Copacabana Music and passion were always the fashion, At the Copa…

The feel of a dollar bill, the smell of sweet wine, the high of a drug…the kiss from that man. It was all very addicting.

…they fell in love

But of course, leave it to Fate to come trampling over everything. Bad people get done in by karma, while good people get done in by Murphy's Law. And Murphy was ten times more likely to kick you when you're down.

His name was Rico, he wore a diamond. He was escorted to his chair He saw Lola dancin' there

That devastating night started out like any other night, until in strolled Duncan McDermott with a scantily clad girl leaning on him at each side. He was the kind of guy who had drinking buddies at high places, and had a lot of money, but no good uses for it. He walked over the table reserved for him, let 'his' girls run off wherever they wanted to, and for the most part enjoyed the show. Afterwards, he whistled at Gwen, beckoning her to come. What happened after that? Let's just say Duncan had a skewered idea of what a tip is and got a bit too hands on for his own good.

And when she finished, he called her over But Rico went a bit too far Tony sailed across the bar

The events after that were a blur to Gwen, all that she really comprehended at the scene was the screaming of people, the running of feet, the sound of punches thrown by both Duncan and Trent, the sight of glass crashing and furniture breaking and finally, before her whole world came crashing down, the glint of something metallic and deadly.

And then the punches flew, and chairs were smashed in two. There was blood and a single gunshot,
but just who shot who?

The next thing she knew, Trent was lying on the ground, face pale and white shirt turning a rich red. There were more screams, more running but Gwen just stood there, shocked, silent, as sirens sounded off in the distant and Duncan was tackled to the ground by a few men. But that scene meant little to her, all she cared about was the man on the ground, the love of her life, the person who taught her how to live. And then, as the paramedics came and panic and realization hit her hard, she dropped down to her knees, and cried and shouted

At the Copa, Copacabana, The hottest spot north of Havana At the Copa, Copacabana Music and passion were always the fashion, At the Copa…

Trent Hannigan was buried in a nearby cemetery the very next day.

…she lost her love.

It was happy, congratulatory cheering that shook present day Gwen out of her reverie. The man she saw earlier had just proposed to his girlfriend and her response was pretty much known by the way he twirled her happily around, bringing new life to the term 'sweeping her off her feet.' His gentle hands caressed her waist as he shouted that drinks were on him. More cheering came after that as the music started up again.

Her name is Lola, she was a showgirl
But that was thirty years ago,
when they used to have a showAnd like good old' reliable Murphy, this all happened on the exact same spot where Trent had taken his last breath, thought his last thoughts and died at just too young an age.

Now it's a disco, but not for Lola
Still in the dress she used to wear,
faded feather in her hair

Gwen had to fit the urge to smash her bottle onto the ground. Bitter? Of course she was. Angry? Maybe just a little. It was hard not to be envious of the couple who went through the same beginning as her, but came out with a completely different ending. Heaving another sigh, she drank her vodka directly from the bottle, and watched as the barkeep (who had left in the middle of her flashback) pass out drinks to everyone surrounding the blissfully unaware lovers. The drinks might be killing her, but she didn't care, it dulled the persistent stabbing pain to just a numbing sore.

She sits there so refined,
and drinks herself half-blind
She lost her youth and she lost her Tony,
now she's lost her mind

She looked at her reflection in a wine spill on the table. For a moment there, she thought she saw Trent's face in it as well, but that was normal. Even to this day, she could still sometimes hear his laughter in the wind, his scent on her pillow case and his shadow on almost every surface. Was it her mind playing tricks, was it the alcohol? She didn't know, and frankly, she didn't care. She had stopped caring when she herself died along with him.

At the Copa, Copacabana, The hottest spot north of Havana At the Copa, Copacabana Music and passion were always the fashion, At the Copa…

As the music blared and the lights flashed, none of it registered in her mind as she slumped down even further, resting her head on the hard, cold wood. Along time ago, she would have cried, but now…she had no more tears left to shed.

…don't fall in love.

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That was actually easier to write than I thought. Although now I have this fear that I may be type casted now as the Trent-killer. But before you do do that, here are some points I'll like to make.

- I originally had Duncan and Courtney as the main couple, but I thought Gwen and Trent worked better.
-I know most people would've thought of Cody as Rico given the couple, but seriously, I highly doubt Cody would just shoot somebody.
-Yes, despite being a teenager, I am a bit of a fanilow of Barry Manilow. Okay, sorry for the rhyme that was so bad it should be a crime. No really, I'll stop now..
-Copacabana is indeed a real club.

Acknowledgements (because there are a lot) most are from Deviantart
TDI-Exile- for giving me ideas, sorry if I didn't actually use them but I love your take on it.
cheesers52-for also giving me ideas, especially Duncan as Rico
TheUnspokenArtist/Rainbowz-and-Stuffz-For suggestions. Her story "Broken" inspired this a bit, so check it out, it'/s an uber cool fic
Jacqueline229-for suggestions
Everyone who's ever reviewed or read my stories