“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” said a voice to Rowan’s left, a familiar voice that she really wanted to ignore. “You start work today.”

That got her attention. She shot up, bumping her head again, and was wide awake. “Really?” she asked Kellin, who was trying not to laugh as she rubbed at her bruising forehead.

“Yeah, you’re now officially a roadie.” Kellin waited for Rowan to climb down to her feet and ushered her to the back lounge. “Don’t wear too many layers,” Kellin pleaded as Rowan sifted through her wardrobe to pull a few items out of her suitcase.

She yanked free a men's muscle tank, black shorts, and tights that looked as if Oreo ice cream was melting down the legs. She also grabbed a black cardigan with sliced up arms, but knew Kellin wouldn't want her wearing it. Kellin busied himself with digging through his own wardrobe, which was beginning to consume the piece of couch it sat upon in the back lounge. Once she was dressed she tapped his shoulder and he turned to see her dressed, smiling until he saw she was wearing the cardi.

“Ro,” he started, but Rowan shook her head.

“Trust me,” she assured him. Rowan smiled a little, trying to add to the security of the statement, and walked back toward the bathroom. Jack was in there, brushing his teeth with the door open, and jerked his chin up at her with a small smile around his brush, one that she returned while grabbing her own toothpaste and brush. “Morning, Uncle Jack.”

Jack spat, rinsed with a mini water bottle, and dabbed the water and foam from his mouth before kissing the crown of Rowan’s mop of curls, “Morning, sweetheart.” He smiled and then hesitated, not leaving as Rowan began to brush, as if there was something more he wanted to say. Finally he sighed, ruffling her hair as he passed her to get out the door, “Glad you’re doing good, kid.”

Rowan nodded, not wanting to respond and therefore thankful for the toothbrush, as he left. Once finished she swiped on a coat of lip gloss as that was just about the only thing of Katelynne’s giant make-up kit (yes, Kate packed a huge kit to send along) that Rowan knew how to handle on her own. However, she also slipped out the bottle of concealer she’d nabbed the day she first met the other men of Sleeping With Sirens, uncapping it and shirking her cardigan. Hurriedly, she smeared the creamy substance over every exposed bit of skin, layering it enough that it was harder to tell what lay beneath the surface. Kellin appeared with the box of medical things as she finished, setting everything up while Rowan bore her stomach to be punctured. It was almost no longer noticeable, she could pay more attention to her reflection and try to comb out her hair while she received her morning shot. Kellin packed it all away and passed her a Poptart.

Rowan gnawed at the corners while she made her way to the main area. She flopped onto the couch, carelessly throwing her feet onto Gabe’s lap and leaning back against Justin’s side. “Morning, boys.”

“What’s got you so chipper?” Jesse asked, closing the fridge as the bus began to slow.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m no longer with the band,” she said, winking at him playfully.

“Hey, you act like it’s a bad thing to be with us!” Justin exclaimed.

She twisted around to smirk at him, “Well, yeah!” She giggled but then smiled serenely serious, “Naw, you guys are cool. I love getting to be here. But... I don’t know... I just felt a little like I was intruding. Like I was this extra game-piece that was taking up space, now I feel like at least I can contribute.”

“Sounds fun,” Gabe agreed, getting up once Rowan removed her feet, readying themselves to go out for the day. As Rowan grinned and nibbled at her breakfast, shoving back at Kellin as he playfully knocked into her, Gabe noticed this was the first time he’d seen her without at least one long layer on her arms. He really didn’t know why she was so concerned with keeping herself covered, he could see her skin now and if you didn’t know you mightn’t be able to tell there was anything wrong at all. As it was Kellin had told the guys she had scars but Gabe could hardly tell they were there now.

Jesse was lazily lounging on the couch, the others were ready to go to soundcheck, and Kellin had his hand on Rowan’s shoulder so that as soon as the bus was halted he caught her as she attempted to bolt. Chuckling at her eagerness, Kellin then nudged her toward the front doors, “Well, let’s go then.”

Rowan followed the flow of traffic for as long as she could manage but finally she was too restless and, giggling, she darted away from the guys and followed the infrequent signs toward a tent. Inside stood Lisa who recognized the girl immediately.

Smirking, Lisa came to give Rowan an abrupt hug that took her by surprise, “Eager?”

“You have no idea,” Rowan laughed, beaming at Lisa as she was handed a new pass to be allowed behind the fence, this one reading ‘Roadie’. She ogled the badge maybe a minute longer than was necessary. Then, like some sort of beacon of light was bestowed upon her, Rowan was handed a radio. Yes, she was that excited for a hunk of outdated technology. Lisa tried to stifle her laughter as she finally handed Rowan a piece of paper with a list of codes and instructions for how to communicate with other crew.

“Well, let’s get you out there.” Lisa grinned and pointed to Rowan’s radio, “Follow the instructions, get Sierra here.”

Rowan looked at the paper and tried to decipher the codes and such, in the end she clicked the right button and froze. She should say something. She was just making static and blocking up the channel. Shit. “I need, uh, Sierra please.”

Rowan looked up at Lisa apprehensively but Lisa was still smiling, giving Rowan the encouragement not to run and hide as a crackly feminine voice fizzled through the radio waves, “Go for Sierra.”

“You’re needed at the main tent by, um, uh, Lisa.” Rowan wanted very very badly to smack herself in the face for her own stupidity but Lisa only chuckled softly, not unkindly, and she heard a response.

“One away.” Sure enough a girl appeared a minute later. She was tall, thin, and other than her hair being dyed it didn’t look like she was the girly type. In black shorts and a white tee that advertised some business Rowan had seen on a tent in the venues, she looked comfortable in her skin. So much so that Rowan noted she had not a drop of makeup on. Ballsy, beautiful, and bold. On the other hand, her hair was pink. It seemed to have once been vibrant but was fading with washes into a soft, petal pink, reminding Rowan more of cotton candy than a pre-teen’s pink zebra sheets. She looked to Lisa as she came in, clearly at home here, while grabbing up a can of water and cracking it open. Rowan only knew this was water and not Monster Energy drinks as the can claimed because she was told to drink as many of them as possible. “What’s up?”

Kellin sidled up beside Rowan, already hot and worn out with worry as she’d disappeared from him. Meanwhile, Lisa had pointed toward Rowan with a smile, “This is Rowan, Kellin’s daughter. She’s offered to lend a hand, she’ll be in your charge.”

“Hey, I’m Sierra,” the girl responded in a mature yet bubbly way, making Rowan feel excited but at ease. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Rowan mumbled, suddenly painfully aware of Kellin at her side. She felt out of place. At the same time, however, she could feel this weird sense of comfort. Slowly she could feel herself slipping into a routine, getting ready and how the day would go. She didn’t cower behind Kellin anymore, she stood in front of him and faced this new challenge head on. Still, Sierra was so intensely comfortable in her skin and in her surroundings that Rowan instantly felt like the outsider again.

Sierra smiled at Kellin and he returned it before putting his hand on Rowan’s shoulder lightly, “I have to go for sound check, will you be alright?”

Embarrassed, Rowan felt her cheeks heat up, “Yeah, ‘m fine, Kell. Go.”

“Do you have your phone? Everyone’s numbers are still in there? And you know where we’ll be? What about–”

“Kellin,” she whined, dragging it into too many syllables, “I said I’m fine! Go!”

“Alright, alright!” he surrendered, kissing her forehead, “Love you, kid.”

“You too,” she muttered lowly, feeling mortification down to her very bones. He left, giving Lisa a pointed look on the way, and Rowan began to fidget with the radio’s buttons, “Sorry.”

“Not even,” Sierra replied genially, “I mean, dads right?”

Rowan thought about that. Really thought. She wasn’t just someone’s child by blood, not just because the DNA bonded them by force, Kellin chose to be her father. And he did it better than she could ever have imagined. But no matter the unorthadox-ness of their situation, she was part of the club now. The one full of kids with dads who do embarrassing things like try to use outdated slang or asked a million questions before walking even a foot away. It made her grin unshakeable. “Right.”

“Mine’s the head of this place, how do you think that goes over?” Sierra added sarcastically, making both girls laugh.

“Alright, Sierra,” Lisa cut in, “she’s to deliver water with you until lunch, then bring her here.”

“Sounds like a plan, man,” Sierra joked, jerking her chin to direct Rowan to follow, calling over her shoulder, “see you later!”

Rowan followed dutifully until they reached a golf-cart with a truck-bed for a back seat which was laden with water cans, “Is this for us?”

Sierra winked, hopping into the driver’s seat and patting the passenger one beside her, “C’mon!”

Rowan hopped in with a huge grin, trying to ignore the small sense of apprehension haunting the back-most corners of her mind, “So, we just deliver the water?”

“Unless you wanted to help the guys unload tents?” she asked teasingly, making Rowan giggle and shake her head quickly enough to give herself whiplash.

“Who’s first?” Rowan asked, holding on tight as Sierra made a sharp turn to avoid a box on the ground.

“A band called Black Veil Brides,” Sierra read off a piece of paper taped to the inside of the plexiglass windshield.

“Cool,” Rowan said, but her insides were twisting at the thought of facing the guys knowing that they knew of what had happened to her yesterday.

Sierra asked Rowan simple questions like what music she liked (which seemed to be a popular ice-breaker around here, Rowan noted) and what she thought of the tour so far. Rowan answered as calmly as she could, still not used to people caring what she wanted or thought about. They pulled up behind a stage where the guys of Black Veil Brides were ‘warming up’ (messing around) and CC caught sight of Rowan unloading a case of water first.

“Rowan?! Hey!” he cheered, drawing everyone’s attention her way, “What're you up to?”

“Meet the newest Roadie,” Sierra answered.

“No way! Awesome! Having fun yet?” Jinxx asked her, smiling in a kind way that almost seemed too kind. Like he knew too and was taking pity on her, which Rowan hated.

“Yeah,” she answered him simply, smiling at Ashley who was talking to one of the fans with a backstage pass.

Andy broke off from his conversation with Jake as soon as he caught sight of Rowan. He bolted the distance between them and, unthinkingly, hugged her. Due to the height difference of two and a half feet, Andy lifted her off the ground to give her a proper hug, which made Rowan gasp in shock before the sound emulsified into laughter.

“Thank fuck you’re alright,” Andy said, though his voice was muffled by the embrace. He finally set her on her feet and, rather than stare down at her weirdly, he sat on a box next to Rowan as she helped unload another case of water. “You scared the shit out of me. Again.”

“Sorry,” Rowan shrugged, stating matter-of-factly, “I suck at being alive.”

“Well, you can suck at it all you want, as long as you don’t stop.” Andy’s tone was offhand and teasing, in a banter-y friend-like way, but once his words seemed to catch up with his thoughts he stopped chuckling abruptly. Freshly somber, he ran his hands through his hair repeatedly, looking for the best way to apologize for speaking carelessly. “Shit, I’m–”

“Seriously, no worries,” Rowan cut him off. She paused her work to look him dead in the eyes, noticing for the first time what people said about her blue eyes, the sky-like hue gave way to a glimpse at the soul that you just couldn’t find in greens or browns. She was lost in the honesty of his shame for a moment, shocked to see just how concerned he was to have hurt her feelings, but then righted herself. Surprising them both, Rowan put a small hand on his shoulder, still looking into his crystal orbs, “I’m okay, Andy, I mean it.”

Andy didn’t seem to be convinced but he let it go all the same, offering her a small half-tilt smile that Rowan knew made his fangirls faint. “So, you’re working? Whose idea was that?”

“Mine,” she told him, seeing Sierra talking to Jake from the corner of her eye. Good, at least she wasn’t holding the other girl up. She didn’t want to get in trouble on her first day.

“You asked to work? Are you sure you’re really a teenager?” Andy was back to being lighthearted, and it made Rowan grin.

“Shut up,” she retorted. “I happen to be very excited. So fuck off.”

“Alright, alright,” Andy relented, “I’ll stop.”

Rowan saw Sierra excuse herself from her conversation and followed suit, wanting to be of actual use. “I gotta go,” Rowan said, closing the distance to hug him again, much easier this time as he was sitting and was only a little bit taller than her, “I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” he replied, starting to stand up but Rowan tugged on his hand to stop him. “What?”

“Thank you,” she breathed, looking embarrassed to be saying it so late and a little afraid to bring up the topic they could both tell she wanted to avoid.

“Of course,” Andy replied, ruffling her hair. “Have fun, kid.”

---

Rowan had delivered water to almost half the bands on the tour by the time she was starting to feel drained. It wasn’t so much that the job was physically straining, it was more so that she had noticed a disturbing trend. People gave her those looks, they seemed to fall quiet as she got close, and she could feel their pitying sighs as if they were palpable waves undulating from each individual. It was the same way she felt walking in the halls of her mother’s hospital wing. They all knew. She wasn’t sure how much they knew, but these strangers knew something about her. She felt it in the way they offered to help her move something or asked how she was even though she’d never had a single conversation with them prior.

Sierra said it was about lunch time. “Hey,” Sierra began, giving Rowan a side-long look, “do you wanna have some fun before we head over to eat?”

Rowan, old habits still flowing through her veins, liked the idea of anything that put off having to eat and therefore she nodded excitedly, “Sure!”

Sierra drove past busses and found a little open grassy area, about the size of a parking lot, and stopped the golf cart, turning to Rowan. “Wanna drive?”

Rowan hesitated, she’d only ever been to one fair in her life—her parents were unconscious and wouldn’t have heard a bomb go off in the street much less her tiptoeing out—and had learned via the bumper cars that she was an abysmal driver. Still…

“Fuck yeah,” Rowan replied, then realized she must sound like some sort of red-neck truck driver stuck inside a child’s body with her choice in vocabulary. “I mean… mhm,” she mumbled, “yup, totally.”

“Fuck yeah, indeed,” Sierra replied, laughing boisterously as she let Rowan slide into the driver’s seat while walking around to take the passenger’s side. “Don’t hit the fences, and don’t kill us, ‘aight?”

“Deal,” Rowan replied, laughing as she turned the key and the little engine started up. Rowan tapped the pedal and the cart lurched forward. “Uh,” she went on, “mostly, anyway.”

Rowan pushed the pedal again, a little less shakily, and the cart jumped to movement again. Rowan giggled as she made sharp turns that had Sierra gripping the pleather seats for dear life, losing herself in the adrenaline and escape. The wind whipped her hair back, her baby curls tickling her face and neck as the sweat that had begun to coat her skin dried. She took a big breath, preparing to make yet another twist of the wheel, when she caught sight of a man far away, watching from where he leaned casually against the fence, and his silhouette stunned her into absolute stillness. Locking up, she forgot where she was and who else was near, her fear took the wheel and in turn Rowan and Sierra ended up slamming to a stop as they ran into a trashcan bolted into the earth of the fairground the tour was inhabiting.

“Holy shit!” Sierra screeched, the shock of the impact processing in their brains before a squeal split the air like the first crackle of thunder, “That was…”

“I am so so so sorry,” Rowan began to stammer, tripping over her words as tears sprung to her eyes, her feet already having found their way to the dirt as she stumbled back from the cart.

“…AWESOME!” Sierra finished, laughing even while invisible stars danced around her head like in a cartoon.

“Whuh?” Rowan was more shocked by that reaction than the initial impact of the crash.

“That was crazy!” Sierra went on, holding her sides as if she’d been shot, only because she was laughing so hard.

Rowan began to giggle a little too, bit by bit, until the tears had dissipated entirely and she was clutching her own ribs. Just as she began to feel that air was too thin, she remembered why she’d crashed in the first place. Her eyes darted to the fence and the shadow of a person was still there, the shape all too familiar, and without any sensible thoughts to inhibit her, Rowan began to run with every ounce of energy she possessed. She ran as she had many times before. Flashes of memories flooded her vision, making her stumble, but she kept running all the while.

“Get back here!” he screamed, the sound making my hair stand on end, but I ignored him. My lungs screamed their own desperate cry but I ignored them too, also pretending I didn’t feel my legs turning to jelly. Second grade might be a nightmare, and the kids might have teased me, but I’d rather live in that dreadful classroom all day than be chased down the block in fear of my own life.

Rowan pushed harder, now completely blinded by tears and memories.

I looked down to my trembling hands, only seven years old and already feeling too comfortable while holding a bottle of beer, trying to get home before they realized I’d broken the last bottle in the fridge while trying to look for dinner.

Stitches laced their way up her sides, her heartbeat filling her throat, and her feet began to numb and stop listening to her about where to step, but she went on nevertheless.

“Rowan Elizabeth! Your father said to come down here right this instant! You better obey or you’ll get what’s coming!”

Finally Rowan ran into something, she’d been afraid she was running in some desert, it was a warm, clothed something. A person. In fact, it was Vic, Kellin, and three other men she’d yet to meet. Vic stumbled from the hit but as he recognized his assailant he began to laugh, “Slow your roll, kiddo.”

Then, all at once, everyone in the group seemed to notice the tear tracks on her cheeks, the sheen of sweat that wrapped her in a suffocating grip, and the way her gaze moved from one thing to the next before anyone could even register what she'd been looking at in the first place. Kellin, panicked by this sight, grabbed at her hand but she tore it back, her eyes glassy and unfocused as she stared at his face in a way that looked as though she hadn’t a clue in the world who stood before her. “Ro, sweetheart, what’s going on? Where’s Sierra?”

“Who? Oh, um,” Rowan blinked to try and steady her sights, her feet still shifting her weight back and forth as she tried to process what was happening before her eyes, “I don’t... I don’t know, really.”

“What do you mean?” Kellin pressed, now looking all around them, “Where did you last see her?”

“We were,” Rowan gulped for air, putting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath, “we were in some empty lot behind the busses.”

“Holt shit,” one of the unknown men said, laughing within his words, “that’s at the complete other side of the venue. You ran all the way here?”

Rowan nodded distractedly, her focus on Kellin for the most part, “I thought I saw.. He was... And I... He just...”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Vic said soothingly, rubbing one hand on her back, “who did you see? And where?”

“I saw... It was... Kellin, it was him.” Rowan’s orbs flashed to her father’s begging him to understand without further explanation. He seemed to catch on, his own eyes slitting as he peered around them much more feverishly.

“I’ll be right back,” Kellin said, starting to walk away before stopping himself to look Rowan in the eyes once more, “stay here.” There seemed to be more words dancing on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. And as weirdly final as it felt to say, as if bidding a family member farewell before going off to war, he did let the words win. “I love you.”

“You too.” The words rolled off her own tongue easily, her shoulders seeming to sag with relief as she realized that for the first time in her life, she didn’t have to face this situation alone. She didn’t have to run away, she could run to someone.

With that, he disappeared. Vic turned to Rowan then, drawing her attention back to her current standing. “Are you... okay?”

Rowan nodded, the response was so second-nature that she forgot to actually ask herself for a truthful answer. She’d forgotten that she could now actually be honest with how she felt. Still, this was the kinder way. This way no one would worry. “I’m fine,” she assured him. Vic didn’t look convinced but decided not to push her.

“So, Ro, this is Rian, Jack, and Alex. Three fourths of All Time Low.” Vic pointed to each guy in turn, prompting them to raise their hands or otherwise acknowledge their introduction. “Guys, this is Kellin’s daughter, Rowan.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you, nice to finally put a face to the name,” the first guy—Rian—responded, extending his hand for her to shake.

“Yeah, but you’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” the second—Jack—commented, smiling brightly so that his words seemed like a comment on lovely weather or a gracious compliment.

“She’s just fun-sized, right?” the third—Alex—stepped in, making everyone laugh, even Rowan, who was only partially mentally present.

Rowan pretended to listen to the conversation that followed, something to do with a new music video, but despite her best efforts she could only think of the shadow that now shimmered in the edges of her consciousness, too close for comfort but too far to feel real.

Rowan had to accept the fact that her life was destined to be a string of mishaps. A constant game of waiting for whatever catastrophe karma decided she deserved next. What she’d done to deserve such tragedy Rowan had yet to understand but the tragedy continued to unfold nevertheless. This was simply the way it was, nothing she could do. She must have done something unspeakably atrocious in a past life. Then again, she must’ve done something worthy of a little good luck as well, Kellin was now her dad after all and she had tons of extended family by her side… surely she wasn’t all bad. Whatever the balance had become, it was currently tipping toward negative. She'd been sure it was him. She was positive. But, that was crazy, right? He didn't care about her, he never had, so why would he track her this far? It must've been her head playing tricks. Just the heat, she hadn’t been drinking enough water. That's all.

In the midst of her inner-soliloquy, Rowan had cut herself off mentally from those around her. Now, as she looked up apologetically, a crimson blush adorning her cheeks, she found herself to be surrounded by foreign bodies. Buzzing by her like busy bees, not a single person looked familiar. Where was Vic? And the others? Rowan stumbled at first but regained her balance and began to weave through the melee, searching for anyone even moderately recognizable. Pausing by a trash can, Rowan put her hand on the grimy object to steady herself. Her head was spinning, her heart thundering in her chest, sweat drenched her skin. Her stomach gave a threatening lurch, warning her of her own frailty, and she began to panic. No one around, no one to see her if she passed out. But that seemed to be where this was headed, her vision began to darken as her sight narrowed to tunnels of blurry blackness, the light seeming farther away with every shuddering breath.

Distantly, Rowan felt a hand clasp her shoulder. She tried to blink and see the person but their image was too dim and clouded. Their voice came to her as if from underwater. “Rowan? Rowan, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Then, the voice faded away for a moment, whether it was a sign that she was unconscious or simply the speaker stopping their words she couldn't tell. That is, until she felt herself sink to the floor and sensed her companion follow, their hand still on her shoulder though—thankfully—that was all they dared touch.

The hand released her shoulder, then grasped her hand instead, not seeming to mind the clamminess. “Rowan, listen to me, squeeze my hand. Think about every muscle, feel it tense, hold my hand as tight as you can.” Rowan, unsure why she was listening to and obeying a stranger for all she knew, tensed her hand. She let her fingers gradually tighten as the person entwined their hands together, though all of the movement felt distant as her focus was on her dizziness and twisting stomach. Rowan's hand grew so tight, so tense, that she heard her companion release a small breath akin to a whimper. “Okay,” the voice was a little strangled, the word released along with a bit of a chuckle, “good. Very good. Now, release.” Rowan, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to concentrate on the voice, started to drop the hand she gripped. “No wait,” she froze, “slowly. Let go slowly, one finger at a time, feel every muscle relax this time.” She tried to do as she was told, letting the hand go at a snail’s pace. “Now, as you’re doing that, breathe. Slowly. In and out. In: one, two, the, four, five, six. Hold: one, two, three, four. Out: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Again...” They repeated the breathing as her second hand was grasped, and she followed suit by tightening and releasing that hand as well. Next, the voice told her to curl up her toes, as small as she could, and then slowly smooth her foot out too. Then the other foot. Then she was to tense and release the muscles in each leg, then each arm, and so on. They did this until she had mentally focused on each and every part of her body and put it at ease. She felt limp, like a rag doll, and she slowly let her eyes flutter open. There, sitting beside her on the filthy ground, was the man she’d met only that day: Alex. He smiled at her sheepishly, as if he had anything to be apologetic about, and Rowan realized they were still holding each other’s hands.

“Sorry,” she heard herself mumble, dropping his hands altogether and glaring at her knees.

“Don’t be,” he assured her, his voice soft and kind and much more clear, “as long as you’re okay.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” Rowan didn’t know where to look, she just kept blushing and glaring at the ground. “You’re, uh, weirdly good at that.”

“I guess so,” he said, another small chortle mixed with his words, “I have some experience.”

“What do you mean?” she responded, grasping at any chance to change the subject. At least, to steer the focus away from herself.

“I have anxiety.” Alex didn’t seem ashamed, in fact he said it so cavalierly that Rowan took a moment to process what the man said. “It’s not as bad nowadays, but it used to be pretty awful. I mean, I’m not magically cured or anything but I've learned a lot of tricks.”

“Oh, well that’s good then.” Rowan wasn’t sure what else to say. She knew how flimsy some people’s words of supposed kindness felt like nothing more than odd sounds uttered in odd patterns, no truth. No heart. She was afraid to sound that way, though she was truly appreciative. “I mean, good it got better. Not good you have anxiety. I mean, I know that, like, I– I mean–”

Alex released a soft laugh again, something Rowan noticed he did quite often, and shook his head with a half-smile tugging at the right corner of his lips, “I gotcha,” he said in a soothing manner. “How’re you feeling right now? Are you alright?”

And there it was, the thing she’d been hoping to avoid talking about. “I’m fine,” she answered, perhaps a bit too quickly to seem genuine. Therefore she took another long beat, pretending to assess herself, before going on. “Feeling much better now.”

Alex apprehended her too-quick response, one eyebrow arched, but he didn’t respond right away. And when he finally did respond it wasn’t accusatory or unkind, it was just as nurturing as ever. “How about you come with me?”

“Where are we going?” she shot back instantaneously.

Alex stood, brushed himself off a bit, and extended his hand, “Don’t you trust me?”

No. Rowan thought to herself, knowing that trust was a thing earned. But, hadn’t his care for her been proof enough? Rowan gnawed her already chapped lips and slowly took his offering by way of a response, letting him pull her to her slightly unsteady feet.

“Cool,” was Alex’s response as they wove their way through the chaos of the tour once again. Rowan followed in semi-blind faith, chanting a mantra to herself somewhere along the lines of ‘Vic seems to like him, and I trust Vic, so this guy is okay. I’ll be okay.’

They ducked between groups and waved hello to quite a few band and crew members in passing before finally screeching to an abrupt halt behind one of the main stages. Rowan grew confused, Sleeping With Sirens wasn’t scheduled to play for a while, nor was Pierce the Veil or any other bands Rowan had checked the schedule for that morning. So, why was she being led up the ramp towards the side of the stage?

Alex stopped moving once they reached the side stage, tucking himself and Rowan so that they were just out of sight of the audience that was not-so-patiently waiting for the next band. He crouched down on one knee, so that he was nearer to her height, and then pointed out toward the masses from which they hid.

“Do you see that guy, the one over there that’s a bit taller than the guys around him?” Alex described quite a few people in the crowd but Rowan followed the direction he pointed and found one guy that seemed to stand out, he was standing at a table, seeming to have chosen to stand rather than sit, and conducting a signing. “That’s Oli. Oliver Sykes, really. Anyway, He used to be a drug addict. While trying to maintain a career for himself he was addicted to drugs. Not a good mix. It almost cost him his band, his family, and his own life. He had to go to rehab.”
Rowan was confused yet again as to what exactly was happening, why she was being told this private information on someone, but decided not to ask questions. She was still too exhausted to do anything more than stare where directed and listen, really.

“And over there,” Alex pointed in the other direction, to another booth, but this time to a heavily tattooed man nearby. A man, in fact, that Rowan recognized to be Ronnie. “That’s Ronnie Radke. He used to be an addict, too. Well, he’s been through a lot more than that, actually. He did time in prison, a year of which he spent in solitary confinement, he’s lost multiple women in his life. He grew up without a mother and his dad was an addict, as was his brother, and he ended up following the same path before he was incarcerated and actually had to change. Now he has a baby daughter, just over a year old, named Willow, who he has to support as well as himself.”

Rowan felt her stomach churning in that uncomfortable way she was all too familiar with. This man, a recovered addict, a father… a man who’d tangoed with the devil himself it seemed, and came back from it all. If only, if only she’d been given such a man in her life earlier on. However, could you ever really trust someone who’d done so much damage? Rowan had spent time with Ronnie and didn’t get that unnerving vibe from him that many men exuded, but what if her instincts were simply off nowadays? Now that she’d let a few men in, did that mean she’d lost the ability to detect danger in others? Or perhaps Ronnie wasn’t a danger after all. Perhaps her intuition was still intact but she was judging him too harshly based on his past rather than the man she’d met before.

“That guy there,” Alex went on, not seeming to notice her internal monologue at all, “his name’s Danny Worsnop. He’s been in rehab for alcoholism and drug addictions, he’s relapsed again and again, but he’s still fighting it. And right beside him,” Rowan looked to where Alex pointed yet again, “that’s Ben Bruce. Danny’s bandmate. He’s also battled addictions.”

Rowan felt her own thoughts race ahead of her as she seemed to decide to avoid these men. But, that wouldn’t be right, would it? That wasn’t part of the New Rowan. The New Rowan would accept people for who they are, not who they used to be. So, was her snap judgement simply a smart choice made to protect herself from chance of a relapse or was it her falling back into old, judgmental habits?

“The guy with the side-cut, right there,” Alex directed her attention again, “his name is Nick Matthews. He attempted suicide after battling depression. But Craig, he’s from another band, called the police in time and his life was saved.”

That fact was a hard one to swallow. Rowan looked closer at this man than she had most others, she observed his mannerisms as he tucked his long hair behind one ear and laughed a little at something the guy next to him said. She tried to find something in his behavior that was indicative of his past, one so like her own, but found little there. Well, that is, little that an outsider could see. Rowan, having lived a parallel life, picked up on the way the others around him laughed before Nick—the others reacted and emoted out of natural reaction whereas Nick had to process what was being said and calculate the proper reaction. It wasn’t as if he looked unhappy, he seemed to be a recovered man, but some aspects of depression lingered long after the disease leaves your brain, this was something else Rowan knew of her own experiences and research.

“And…” Alex seemed to search for his next exhibit, but upon finding him, Alex pointed, “that’s Austin Carlile.” Rowan had heard his name before, her curiosity was piqued as a fan stopped him tentatively and Austin gave the guy a smile and laughed at something he said, posing for a picture also, all whilst his own sad story was spun by Alex as a sort of morbid, biographical soundtrack. “His mother died when he was only seventeen. She had a heart condition that’s genetic. Austin has it as well, he had to have serious heart-surgery. He’s also gotten a lot of shit over the years pertaining to love and relationships. But, if you listen to his music, the truth’s in there.”

Rowan’s pity and horror, bubbling up inside as her eyes slid between each of the men Alex had pointed out, threatened to spill over as her companion’s words wound to a close.

“And, as you know, your dad had a hard upbringing what with his dad walking out. And Vic used to self-harm. And Andy, from a band called Black Veil Brides, has ADD and was bullied badly growing up. Vic’s friends in Motionless In White didn’t have it easy in that respect either. In fact, I don't think anyone here was ever Prom King or Queen material.” Alex gave her a lopsided grin that seemed so natural, she couldn’t imagine a person with this kind of energy, aura if you will, not smiling in such a nonchalant way. It seemed as much a part of his wardrobe as his beanie, worn despite the fact that it was blisteringly hot out. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, we’re all a bunch of puzzle pieces that have odd edges. Every single person here doesn’t quite fit anywhere else. This is the Island of Misfit Toys. I’m not judging at all, I’m just saying that you can’t beat yourself up over a medical condition that’s only a small part of you. You’re made up of all the little things that make you, well, you. You are not your conditions or your story. You’re Rowan. And, no matter what happens outside of this tour, you fit here.”

---

Kellin hung up the call, watching as ‘Ms. Greene - Rowan’s Case Worker’ dissolved to black on his phone’s screen. It had been an uncomfortable conversation. To be frank, the whole day had been uncomfortable. He knew that it was in Rowan’s best interest to allow her space and let her build up her confidence by completing things independently. Still, the logic of the choice seemed to evade him each time he tried to remember it, replaced instead with panicked thoughts of ‘what ifs’ and images of Rowan laying in a hospital bed, a vision that was much too accessible in his mind. Therefore, seeing Rowan rush up in a state of panic he hadn’t seen invade her body in such a while had stirred up his own feelings of fear and anxiety.

Kellin had scoured the fair grounds for any man resembling the pictures of Scott in Rowan’s file, but had come up short. He didn’t doubt her, if she said she saw the man then Kellin was going to take it seriously. Because in truth, whether she saw him or not, it was a serious matter. Scott was one of her abusers, the only one left that was on record as having seen Rowan within the past near decade of her life. Kellin wasn’t about to let any harm come to his daughter by that monster’s hands ever again.

Ms. Greene seemed to doubt the validity of Rowan’s claim, arguing that Scott had relinquished all ties to Rowan the day of her mother's passing, having supposedly dropped off the planet as all of his credit cards and IDs seemed to have been shut down and tossed out. He’d probably feared being stuck with guardianship, not knowing of Kellin’s existence. Why anyone would turn away from having Rowan as a permanent part of their lives Kellin couldn’t fathom, but nevertheless he was grateful for the man’s obvious disinterest. Now, though, that he’d reappeared... Kellin worried. He wasn’t sure of every detail, Rowan hadn’t yet divulged the full story, but he knew enough to know that Scott was a dangerous man. Kellin had asked about a restraining order but apparently unless the threat was new and there was substantial evidence it wouldn’t go through. He’d still gone to Lisa as well as the head of security and shown them the picture, stressing the unpredictability of the man shown. They seemed to understand, assuring him that they’d keep their eyes out and protect Rowan at all costs. Ms. Greene also made a point of telling Kellin that mild, harmless hallucinations were a rare but possible side effect of Rowan’s medication. Along with nausea, headaches, and a few other minor effects. Kellin didn’t like the implication that Rowan was simply insane or seeing things, it made his papa-bear instincts kick in as he defiantly disregarded that suggestion, insisting that the threat be taken seriously and not a figment of anyone’s imagination.

Kellin, drained from his hectic day thus far, leaned against a fence and began to text Vic, asking after Rowan. Vic said she was in good hands, being taken care of, and seemed to find something funny. Kellin inquired about what was amusing about the situation they were in and Vic simply told him to go to the Kia Soul Stage. Kellin obeyed, his limbs feeling heavy and his head light as the panic from earlier seemed to linger in his muscles. Still, he walked on, knowing that if Rowan wasn’t happy she wouldn’t tell anyone so he therefore felt the need to be there as an interpreter. He rushed off, ignoring his exhaustion, and finally reached the back of the stage.

Instead of hearing music he heard muffled words through the speakers, a voice that sounded like Alex Gaskarth’s. As he mounted the ramp and wove through people standing side stage Kellin found Vic, and only then did he begin to actually listen to what was being said.

“Now, I’m sure if we all cheer loud enough she’ll agree! So c'mon guys, let’s give her a boost!”

Alex pointed the mic toward the audience and a roar of sound flooded the device, but Kellin could make out the word ‘ROW-AN’ chanted. Vic was laughing, pointing to Zack and Jack on stage, the latter of whom had given his guitar to the former and was instead holding Rowan’s hands as he attempted to drag her away from the speaker she seemed to be hiding behind. Hearing the crowd, Rowan’s face flushed crimson, but she eventually gave in a bit, allowing Jack to drag her into the middle of the stage.

“That’s it!” Alex rejoiced, “Now, can we all say, ‘Welcome, Rowan’?”

“WELCOME, ROWAN!” came the clamorous reply of the audience.

“Hi,” Rowan breathed bashfully into the mic as Alex held it near her face.

Kellin was torn between being pleased to see her looking so far from her past, and concerned that the amount of attention wasn’t good for her so soon after her distress. But she didn’t seem panicked, she just seemed a bit nervous, so he stuck his hands in his pockets and let slip a few chuckles along with Vic’s and the crowd’s as Jack forced Rowan to tango with him. She, too, giggled freely, her smile a mile wide so that you couldn’t really tell how pale she looked from her earlier fright.

“Alright, friends,” Alex said to the audience, “let’s show her what it’s like to be a part of the All Time Low family!”

Jack took back his guitar and began to play with the others but Rowan was told to dance as the speakers bled out the tune to Damned If I Do Ya. She began to twist her hands anxiously and barely looked to the crowd. Vic pulled at Kellin’s elbow and the two hurried out to ease her tension. The crowd seemed to recognize the guys and lit up, drowning out the music from all other stages, as Kellin, Vic, Rowan, Tony, Mike, Jack Fowler, and Justin Hills began a game of tag in the middle of ATL’s set. The band played along, playing keep-away with an extra drumstick that Rian had tossed to Rowan.

The crowd exuded an energy that none of the guys could get enough of, it was electric, and the feeling only amped up the band playing as their performance got progressively better as they fed off each other. Kellin became caught up in the moment, watching as Rowan darted between his friends and hid behind Zack or Alex or Jack or even Rian’s drum kit despite the fact that they were all still doing their jobs. He caught glimpses on her as she disappeared and appeared once again, each time seeing a new emotion flitting across her pixie-like, nymph-ish features. Pain; joy; fear; peace; concern; bliss. Never did he pick up on a hint of anger or rage, she seemed mostly frightened and agonized, and perhaps also drained. But Rowan, like the master of dissembling she was, hid the feelings well, or maybe she simply was truly losing herself in the fun as well for moments at a time. Whatever the case, Kellin liked the small smile that torqued up the corners of Rowan’s lips.

---

A sheen of sweat drying on her face, Rowan bowed with the rest of the band and various people who’d come to play on the stage. They left slowly, letting the crew start to set up for the next band, and only then did Rowan feel the lethargy setting in. Dazed and exhausted, she followed dizzily behind Kellin and Co. as they headed off to see Of Mic & Men play. Rowan liked watching them from side-stage as well, especially thanks to Alex’s speech. She watched as Austin screamed and sang his heart out—an expression that Rowan realized wasn’t to be taken lightly. He didn’t jump and thrash around in quite the same way as the others she’d seen, but Rowan attributed it to his medical condition and it never seemed to interfere with his performance abilities.

By the end of Of Mice’s set, Rowan saw that SWS was gearing up to go next, Kellin had slipped away to warm up, leaving a kiss on her forehead and a promise of being less than a heartbeat away. Rowan had nodded, gluing herself to Vic’s side. Holding his hand in a vice-like grip, Rowan saw Vic waving his free hand at the band. Austin and a shorter brunette man broke away from the crew to come say hello. Rowan shot Vic a frantic look but he simply shook his head, a small grin twisting the corner of his lips on one side. Austin and the second man approached and gave Vic loose, sweaty greetings.

Vic beamed at the girl who seemed suctioned to his side, nudging her to offer her free hand to them, “Austin, Aaron, this is Rowan. Kellin’s daughter.”

Rowan said her hellos politely, yet shakily, and gave each man a small smile. She felt embarrassed to be in Austin’s presence, already knowing so much about his private life and feeling as if she’d been gossiping about him rather than having been told the information without asking. Still, he seemed very kind, albeit tired, as did Aaron. Both were warm in their welcomes and cheerful in their well-wishes. Sleeping With Sirens was up so they took the stage, Austin and Aaron deciding to hang back and watch with Rowan and Vic and the others. They put on a show full of nervous energy, fueled in part by the fear the morning had brewed, but the show was also imbued with the life and excitement the crowd fed them on spoons. It made for a unique experience but the crowd didn’t appear to notice the off-kilter energy at all, instead just enjoying the performance. Once they, too, had finished Rowan was wiped out. She gave her friends, new and old, hugs goodbye—taking an extra moment to thank those who’d come on stage with her as well as the members of All Time Low.

The rest of the day passed in a blur or names, faces, security guards, and music. Finally Rowan followed Kellin into the back lounge to receive her nightly shot, having already washed her face and changed into pajamas.

“I know there was a... blip... But otherwise how was your first day?” Kellin asked, clearly trying to distract her as usual.

“It was awesome,” Rowan responded, only able to give the sentence half the energy she wished to, the majority of her life for the day had been expended on stage. She now respected even more what these men did for a living, she couldn’t imagine doing all she did and still having to remember lyrics and tunes and chords and beats to play on top of it all. She chewed her lip, a habit that Vic had pointed out was a shared one between father and daughter. Apparently, blood related or not, they looked the most alike and connected when they stood in their matching poses: hands shoved in pockets or folded across their chests, their eyes looking ahead at something fixedly, and their bottom lips captured between their teeth. Rowan stopped Kellin from wiping off her skin with the alcohol swab, taking his hands in hers and locking eyes with him. “I’m, well, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. I wasn’t lying, I really did think I saw him. I still do. But, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m just sorry is all.”

Kellin sighed, squeezing her hands before releasing them. For a moment Rowan worried that he was angry but the concern subsided when Kellin put his hands beneath her arms, standing while he lifted her up as if she were Copeland, letting Rowan wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He hooked his arms around her and held her close, one supporting her from the bottom and the other rubbing her back soothingly. This was what she’d needed all day. As much as she hated to admit that fact. Rowan was a teenager now after all and didn’t appreciate being babied. Still, Kellin seemed to know without needing to be told that sometimes being babied wasn’t so bad. He let her close her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder, her face buried in the crook of his neck. This was quickly becoming her safe place. And the most odd part about it was that it felt so comfortable. Unlike men who'd held her before, this felt as natural as breathing to Rowan. It was as if she’d been cuddling up here since she was Cope’s age.

Kellin’s voice vibrated against her, “Rowan, I don’t know how many times it’ll take of me telling you for you to listen but I’ll keep saying it ‘till you understand: You don’t need to apologize to me. I love you, and I’ll do anything in my power to protect you, but I can only do that if you help me know what I can protect you from. And that requires you speaking to me. So, if anything, I’m grateful to you for being open about what you saw today.”

Rowan wasn't sure she believed him but at the same time, what reason had he given her for her not to trust him? She chose instead not to respond at all, choosing to just breathe and let herself be calmed by the relaxing rhythm of Kellin’s breaths. “Okay.”

“I love you, Rowan Quinn,” he told her, careful to leave out any names that reminded her of her past. Because at the end of the day, no matter what her name was on paper or by blood, she was a Quinn.

“I love you, too,” she replied, pouring her whole soul into that handful of words.

“Well, c'mon, let's get this over with so we can go watch a movie while the guys go to the barbecue.” Kellin grinned as Rowan was set back down, letting her know in as many wordless ways as he could that everything would be okay. That he would make sure of it.

Rowan let him give her the shot, not even minding that Justin walked in while it was happening to say bye. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and waved at Kellin. Around others Justin often gave off an air of over-confidence and sometimes rude brusqueness, but he had a soft spot for Rowan, one he’d made well known. In fact, all of the guys had adopted Rowan into their hearts without fault. It was hard to gaze into her big blue eyes or see her semi-dimpled smile or watch her tuck her hair behind her ear embarrassedly without instantly deciding you didn't want to ever not know her again.

Justin and the rest left while Kellin took Rowan’s hand, guiding her to sit on the couch in the front living area as he plugged in the X-Box and started up Netflix. They chose to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas as Rowan, what with her unconventional upbringing, had never seen it. The two talked as the film began, swapping stories of their individual mornings, Kellin grilling Rowan about the bands she’d met and how it was working with Sierra. Rowan told him all about the fun they had on the cart—leaving out the fact that they’d crashed, not wishing to give him an early-onset heart attack—and how kind the people she’d met were (also ‘forgetting’ to mention the fact that people talked to her as if she were made of glass or looked at her with eyes full of the kind of pity you’d show someone on their death bed). Before Jack could even set foot in Christmas Land, Rowan was sleeping with her head on Kellin’s lap. He tugged a blanket loose from a drawer below the couch and tossed it over her. Rowan slept blissfully as Kellin fretted over what tomorrow would bring. But in the end, he lost himself more than he had all day just by the look of pure innocence on Rowan’s slumbering features. He loved her, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe and happy. And for now, that was all they needed.

Notes

Roll-Call of Rowan's Rad Readers:
Faceles_Shadows
Ishipkellic
Say all that you hav to say
petewentz
Don't be a poopy bag!
sadieluna
Heres_To_Neverland (x2)
A br0ken soul
MyLifeIsMusic
firecod
Cin-D 182

Well, hello, everyone. I'm currently holding my computer in front of me as a shield, prepared for fury delivered from the masses for taking so long to update. I am genuinely very sorry. I guess I'll let you guys know what's been happening, not that any of you are probably interested but at least so you'll know I haven't been off in nowhere-land:

Within the past few months I've had like three different jobs, got out of a relationship that wasn't working, got into one that is, visited my grandmother in my birthtown, my mom had another surgery, and I then went with her to court for divorce proceedings at which point I saw my father for the first time in about three years.

Good, good, good, okay, not so good—even though the surgery went well because its surgery after all, and bad. Very very bad.

I've been a nervous wreck ever since the court date. My mother even sat down and talked with the man for hours, then went out to lunch with him a few days later. It's just had my head all over the place. I'll spare you the gory details but all in all I'm a bit of a mess. But It also kicked me into gear to write again. I'm definitely feeling back in the swing of things.


I don't have much else to say on the topic of me. I'm boring anyways. More about you guys! I loved your comments last time about your favorite lyrics! I relate on quite a few! This chapter's question: What's your favorite concert memory/expreience? Or, if you haven't been to one yet, what's your dream concert line-up?

I hope you guys liked this chapter. It was a bit messy and scattered but at this point that's how Rowan's life is. There are a lot of good things going for her in her new family life, but her past hasn't disappeared and she is still healing from some very very deep wounds—both physically and mentally. But, anyways, what do you guys think? Thoughts on the chapter? Or predictions of where you think it's headed? I have the story mapped out, but I'd like to hear what you guys think. I take your thoughts and comments very seriously, because this story is as much (if not more so) for you as it is for me. In fact, Alex's magical rescue was a reader-suggestion/request and I give her full credit for the idea (her username is Juliette Quinn here on swsff)! But, hm... Rowan seems to be keeping quite a bit to herself in order to protect the feelings of those around her, but bottling things up and hiding things is never healthy. Also, what about the idea that she might've just been hallucinating? Any thoughts...?

In closing, I hope you guys don't hate me. I hope I haven't betrayed the loyalty of some of you guys who have been so good to me. But this story is not dead. I have big and well-advanced plans. I hope you find it in your hearts to stick aorund, if not for me then for Rowan and Kellin and all their friends and family in the story.

Thank you all so much for being there when no one else is, for believing in something I once kept as a complete secret, and for supporting Rowan through every up and down she's been put through.

Thank you,
MM.