Rehearsals start for tour and they hire a photographer who will travel with them. Today they are meeting her for the first time.

It's just a month until touring begins again. None of the bothers are looking forward to it, not really. As much as they like playing live, the thought of Remington performing makes them all anxious. He can't even hug Andy, how is he meant to hug fans every night?

Remington still has nightmares. He doesn't think he'll ever stop having them. He still can't shower alone. And even after talking to Abigail once a week for a month or so, he still can't hug Andy. Perhaps he's just going to be like this forever.

The scared little boy with demons in his head.

He is tuned out when the door opens, and doesn't notice the stranger is in the room until Sebastian speaks up, making Remington jump. "Alexis?" He questions.

Remington looks up at her and wants to scream. She has her eyes, her nose.

Alexis nods, smiling, oblivious to the horror going on in the lead singer's mind. "That's me," she confirms."

Sebastian holds out his hand for her to shake. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Sebastian, the guitarist." He glances at his little brother, noticing how he suddenly looks terrified.

"Emerson, drummer," the youngest says quietly, "and that's Remington. He sings." He motions towards the boy beside him, who is staring at the floor and messing with his rings, twisting them around on his trembling fingers.

Alexis holds her hand out to Remington and the boy sees it out of the corner of his eye, yelping and getting to his feet. He escapes the room and dashes for the bathroom, throwing the lid open and heaving into it. Emerson soon appears, kneeling down and rubbing the boy's back as he's sick. "What's wrong?" He asks, concerned.

Shaking his head, Remington wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet. He stands up. "Just started me," he half lies, feeling stupid about the actual reason.

She looks like Holly.

"You were shaking as soon as she came in, Remington, what's wrong?" Emerson won't drop it until he knows what really caused his brother to be sick.

The boy sighs. He sits on the toilet seat. "It's stupid, Em," he mumbles, "it doesn't-it doesn't matter." He pushes his hand through his hair.

Emerson frowns. "Don't you think like that. If it's upsetting you then it matters."

"She just-she looks like Holly," he whimpers, the name leaving a foul taste in his mouth.

"Oh fuck, Remington, I'm sorry. Come here, it's alright." He opens his arms and the singer slides into him, resting his chin on the younger's shoulder and exhaling.

The door opens and Sebastian stands in the doorway. "Everything okay?" He asks.

Remington sniffs. "She looks like Holly," he says again quietly, "it just shocked me."

After a few more minutes in the bathroom, both his brothers hugging him and saying soothing words, Remington follows them back into the living room where Alexis is. She's not Holly. She looks like Holly, but she isn't Holly. He just needs to remember this.

But that's easier said than done.

He sits close to Emerson on the sofa and avoids looking at Alexis, scared that if he does he'll be sick again. The two other Kropp boys talk to her so that Remington isn't under any pressure to.

That is until she turns to look at him and asks, "you don't talk much, do you?" She says it like it's a bad thing. All he can do is shakes his head. It's not like he can prove her wrong. "Pretty ironic since you're the front man, don't you think?" Her remark stings Remington. It sounds like she's insulting him, making fun of him. I can't help it, he thinks, it's not my fault I was raped.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he doubts himself. It was his fault. He always did something wrong, something that made him deserving of it. Something that made him deserving of all of it.

Remington wants her to leave and never come back.

"So am I staying in the tour bus?" She asks confidently, and the singer holds his breath, wanting desperately for her to be told no. But he knows she is.

Sebastian glances at Remington, wishing he could say no, but not having any other way for her to travel with them. "Yeah. There's a bunk for you," he says, watching as the younger's face falls.

Alexis seems so confident, so fearless. "You mentioned wanting a few photos taking today, should we take them now?" She's looking at Sebastian. He's the one that hired her.

The guitarist can't do anything but agree. He feels horrible, knowing his brother is terrified of the woman they'll be stuck in a bus with for months and months.

The brothers re-do their eyeshadow. Emerson has to do Remington's because the boy is shaking too much. "You'll be okay," he says, "you're going to okay."

Remington closes his eyes so Emerson can pack red onto his eyelids. "What if I'm not?"

The drummer smudges colour onto the singer's pale skin. "Grab my hand if you need to get out of there, okay, and I'll get you out." It's all he can think of. He doesn't really know what to do about this, and there is no way they are telling Alexis about Remington's abuse.

"Okay," Remington mutters, "I'm sorry."

The boys sit on the stairs for the photos, Emerson and Sebastian two steps higher than Remington. Everything is going fine apart from the fact that Remington can't stop shaking. But then Alexis steps forwards and reaches out to fix Remington's hair.

The terrified boy screams and stumbles past his brothers and up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him and sitting in the corner, knees brought up to his chest as he shudders in fright.

When she reached out like that, she looks so much like Holly. She was so terrifying.

Remington panics at the thought of her. He chokes and splutters and sobs. There's a knock on the door and he jumps.

When he was with Holly, a knock on the door meant that he'd be having more than just a shower. Holly took the lock off the bathroom door is that Remington could do nothing to stop her. He got used to showering in underwear, thought that didn't do much to stop her. Nothing ever stopped her.

"It's me, Remington, can I come in?" Sebastian asks carefully, knowing better than to go in without making sure Remington is okay with it first.

The quivering boy doesn't lift his head up. "Yes," he replies, voice shaking.

The door opens slowly and Sebastian closes it behind him, sitting down next to him on the floor. He doesn't say anything and lets Remington crawl into his lap and cry into his shoulder.

Emerson apologises to Alexis, saying that Remington is shy around new people, and watches as she leaves. "See you on the first day of tour," she had said, cheerful, and Emerson had pressed a smile. What else could he do?

It's not like he could say, 'sorry about that, Remington was abused, raped, and stabbed by his ex.'

He goes up and joins his two brothers, running is fingers through Remington's hair and exchanging worried glances with Sebastian. Remington ends up falling asleep in the guitarist's lap and they carefully tuck him in bed, leaving a glass of water on the table and an empty bin by the door where it always is. They wish they didn't have to, but they know he'll wake up in a cold sweat, stomach churning, and dash for the bin.

"We have to find another photographer," Emerson says, just as he is leaving.

Sebastian sighs and hands the younger man his coat. "She turned down four jobs for us, Em, we can't let her down. We can't have her on the bus with us. It'll destroy Remington."

The drummer folds his jacket over his arm. "Take care of him," he says, "see you tomorrow."

"I will, Em, get home safe."