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Rayne left shortly after they finished for the day, politely declining Gerard's offer to stay and chat.

"My bike's starter is trashed, and I gotta' fix it." she shrugged. "Pleasure playing with you all, and see you tomorrow."

She left. Frank sighed dreamily. "Now she is a girl!" he said.

"What did she say to you?" Gerard asked Ray curiously.

"Nothing of consequence." Ray muttered, wandering outside for a smoke. He hadn't ingested anything alcoholic all day, and his hands were shaking a little. As he lit up in the parking lot, a curse rang out.

"Dammit!"

I know that voice. Ray thought, turning his head to look for Rayne. He spotted her several seconds later, sprawled out on the ground underneath a grubby dirt bike.

"Um, hey?" Ray asked tentatively. The next instant, a dogbone wrench was inches from his face, and Rayne was apologizing.

"Oh! You scared me. What're you doing out here?" she asked, lowering the wrench. Ray noticed how tense she still was, like a rubber band.

Ray shrugged. "Having a smoke."

Rayne shook her head, sighing as she bent down to tinker with the greasy starter. Ray noticed her hoodie and jacket lying on the ground beside the bike. "You do realize you're basically screwing yourself over, right?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled.

"Jesus Christ kid, I've already gotten this talk from my mother." The second the words were out of his mouth, Rayne gave him that sad smile again.

"Must be nice. To have a mother that cares." she said softly, lying on her back underneath the bike. She grunted, twisting something tighter.

"What were you talking about in there? What happened to you?" Ray finally asked.

Rayne mimicked his shrug. "Nothing of consequence. Just made you shut up." she said coolly, getting to her feet.

Ray rolled his eyes. "Dude, I may be an addicted chain smoker, and probably the last, thing on the face of this planet that you want to talk to, but I can tell when someone's being serious."

Rayne snorted. "You're right, you are the last thing I would talk to on the face of his planet. I'd rather talk to this wrench--" here she paused to shake the wrench in Ray's face. "--than even try to go through the motions of a decent conversation with you."

Ray gritted his teeth, about to retort angrily. But he stopped. Something, in the back of Rayne's eyes, caught his attention.

Fear.

She was afraid of him.

Why?

"Why are you scared of me?" Ray asked before he could stop himself. Rayne's eyes widened.

"Because you represent everything I hate." she murmured, slipping on her hoodie and jacket along with her helmet. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Toro." she said curtly, getting onto the bike. The starter sputtered once, twice, and then the third time it roared to life.

She spun the bike in a circle, burning the tires against the asphalt, and gunned the engine, yanking it up into a wheelie as she left the parking lot.

Ray heard a laugh beside him, and whirled. It was that tech from earlier. The boy shot him a timid smile, running off to a battered Ford pickup. Ray sighed again. He needed alcohol, and now. He practically ran to the bus, wrenching open the door and flying to the refrigerator. He cracked open a six pack of beer.

&&&*&

"That was the best recording session we've had in a long time." Gerard agreed with Bob. "Rayne was able to perfectly duplicate Ray's harmonies. It sounded pretty freakin' awesome."

Bob nodded. Being Bob, he was a man of few words.

"I just wonder where R--oh." Frank said quietly, standing beside the open bus door. Granted, all of the members were well experienced with drunks due to Gerard's personal struggles, but Ray was a much bigger, much stronger person. Gerard was more of a funny drunk; Ray was an angry drunk.

Gerard groaned. "We go on tour in a week! This can't go on!" he said firmly, marching onto the bus. "Raymond motherfucking Toro!" he yelled.

"Whuzzat?" Ray had been asleep at the bus table, but now he started awake. "Oh hay, hay how ya' doin'." he said blearily. The next second, he was pinned to the table by his hair with Gerard standing over him.

"Toro! We, the rest of the band, will do all within our power to help you! But you have to make an effort as well! From this day on, you'll be decreasing your alcohol intake until you're completely clean, got it?!" Gerard roared.

"Yup, okay." Ray mumbled, slowly freeing his hair from Gerard's grasp.

"Now get to bed! We've got two more sessions of recording in the next two days, and at some point you need to be able to play!" Gerard snapped, storming off to the bunks.

Ray shook his head in confusion as Frank crept past him, and Bob shot him a sympathetic look. "C'mon bud, let's get you to bed." he said quietly while Mikey wandered to his bunk. Bob slipped an arm under Ray's shoulders, helping him up.

"Bu' Bobby..." Ray whispered.

"No buts Ray. You need your rest." Bob said firmly, ushering the guitarist to his bunk.

"'Kay, 'kay. Imma goin'." Ray yawned, rolling into his bunk. Bob sighed in relief. At least he hadn't fought. He went to get into his own bunk, exhausted after a day of recording. As he was stretching out though, someone poked against the curtain.

"Bob...?" It was Frank. Bob drew back his curtain in confusion.

"Yeah?" he asked. Frank bit his lip.

"I know...this is gonna' sound totally dumb and babyish, but...I'm scared." he whimpered.

"Of what?" Bob asked quietly.

"R-Ray! My dad was an alcoholic, an'...an' when Gerard had the same problem, I used to sleep with Ray f-for protection. B-B-But now it's Ray w-with the problem, an' I don't want to sleep with Gerard, 'cuz he's a wicked heavy sl-sleeper. An' Mikey kicks. S-So can I sleep w--?" Frank trailed off, biting his lip as tears filled his eyes.

"Aww, yeah c'mon little guy." Bob said gently, moving over against the wall. Frank climbed in, his own blanket in tow.

"Th-Thank you!" he whispered, wiping his eyes furiously. Bob gave him a quick side-hug.

"Nothing doing. My dad was an alcoholic as well." he mumbled as Frank wrapped up in his blanket and lay down.

"I...sorry Bob..." Frank murmured, drowsy already. Bob smiled, curling up closer to the small guitarist and draping an arm over his waist.

They fell asleep cuddled up against each other, foreheads touching.