Trigger warning.

For fifteen minutes, Remington tries to sleep, but he can't. He feels unsettled in a strange hotel room and he wishes he had lied to Abigail and not actually flushed the pills. He sits on the floor against the bed and runs his hands over his face. He's so tired.

Remington crawls into the bathroom, and opens the cupboard underneath the sink. There's a small first aid kit and it reminds him of when he had tried to fix his own stab wound without calling an ambulance. He pulls the box out and opens it, routing through for something sharp. At the bottom of the box is a pair of small silver scissors, and he picks them up eagerly.

The light isn't on and he holds the blade of the scissors against his arm. He looks at it on his skin and inhales sharply, and drops the scissors. This isn't the way to deal with the news of his little brother having cancer. He can't do this to himself, and to everyone around him. He has to be strong.

But it's so hard to be strong when he so badly wants to die.

He recalls the conversation with Abigail. She told him to call her back if he needed to. He thinks he needs to.

Leaving the scissors and the first aid kit on the floor, Remington crawls back into the bedroom and picks up his phone from on the floor. It's low on charge, but he calls Abigail anyway. A short conversation with her has to be better than not talking to her at all.

She answers like she promised she would, and Remington talks quietly into the phone. "I don't think I can be on my own," he says, "I'm scared."

Abigail is still in the kitchen. She knew he'd call back. "Have you done anything?" She asks carefully.

Remington doesn't bother getting back in bed. He lies on the floor. "Not yet. But there-there are scissors in the bathroom." He presses the side of his face to the carpet and holds the phone against his ear. "How long will Andy be?"

"Two a bit hours. Are you gonna be okay until he gets there?"

The boy yawns. "Probably not," he admits, "I-I want to slit my throat."

"Do you want me to call the police and get them to wait with you until Andy arrives? Would you feel safer with someone there?"

"Please," he practically begs, "can you-can you make sure they don't send a woman?"

She knows why he's asking, and agrees. "Of course. Sit tight for me, I'll make sure someone's there soon. You'll have to answer the door, okay?"

Remington yawns again. "Okay. Thank you."

After the short phone call, he lies on the floor for ten minutes, until there's a knock at the door. The boy pulls himself to his feet and rubs his eyes. He opens the door to a police officer in his late thirties, with a kind face and a soothing voice. "Remington Leith?" The man asks.

"Yeah," Remington confirms, and steps aside.

"It's nice to meet you, Remington. I'm Liam. I believe your therapist, Abigail, called us. Correct?"

Remington nods.

"Okay. And she said you're thinking of killing yourself. Is that right?"

Again, he nods.

Liam sits in the chair at the little table. "And your husband is on his way?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'm gonna sit with you until he gets here to make sure you're safe, okay? There's no need to talk to me if you don't want to. Just know that I'm here." His voice is kind. It makes Remington feel a bit better.

The boy sits down on the bed and rubs his eyes. "Thank you," he mumbles, "can I go to sleep?"

"That's a good idea. I'll let your husband in if you're sleeping when he gets here."

Remington crawls under the covers. "Sorry for making you do this," he apologises, "I know you've got more important things to be doing."

"Right now being here is the most important thing for me to be doing."

The presence of Liam in the room brings a sense of ease to Remington's mind, and he closes his eyes. Liam sits quietly with his phone, glancing on Remington every few minutes, who manages to fall asleep now he isn't alone.

He gets up when there's a knock on the door, and unlocks it to Andy, who has worry etched into his face. "Are you Remington's husband?" Liam asks, and Andy nods. "Okay, here, come in. He was scared of being alone so his therapist asked me to stay with him until you got here. He fell asleep about an hour ago and as far as I'm aware, hasn't done anything to himself, though I did find a bottle of diet pills on the table which I'll get rid of. It doesn't look like he needs to lose weight."

Andy breathes out in relief. "Oh thank God he's not been on his own all this time. Thank you so much. And he's anorexic, which explains the diet pills. He must've relapsed. Thank you for staying with him. I've been so scared of what he would do to himself on his own."

"Of course. He'll be happy to see you. I hope things get better for him."

"Thank you. Have a good night."

Liam leaves, and Andy takes his shoes and jacket off. He lifts the covers up and gets in bed beside Remington, who wakes at the movement. "Andy?" His voice is barely audible.

"It's me, sweetheart, you're okay. I'm here." He welcomes the boy into his arms.

Remington digs his face into Andy's shoulder. "Sorry," he whispers, "I got scared."

"I know, baby, it's okay. I'm right here now." The softness of his voice makes Remington feel so protected.

He exhales heavily. "I can't believe you drove three hours for me," he mumbles, "you must be so tired."

"You know what, I am tired, but I don't care about that. I care about you, and I'd drive any distance for you, princess. Sleep now, okay? We'll go home tomorrow. I love you. I'm so glad you talked to Abigail."

Remington yawns into Andy. "Okay. Love you."