So I haven't written fanfiction in such a long time, but I saw a few episodes of Austin and Ally with my sister and now I just can't help myself. So, there is some graphic violence later in this chapter and probably later in this story, if I post the rest of the chapters. There will also be sensitive themes, I think. Everyone might be out of character at times, but this is AU. I still think that they're all pretty darn awesome, though.

Disclaimer: I don't own R5, Austin and Ally, or Breakeven by the Script.

As he presses his feet to the last stair on the staircase, he lets out a sigh of relief. He's made it downstairs and past his father's room, which is the hardest part of the entire plan. If he squints, he can see them waiting outside in the van for him. Maybe this won't be as hard as he imagined that it would be. He takes another deep breath and opens the coat closet. He winces when the door squeaks, and looks back to make sure that he isn't behind him. He always appeared when Ross wasn't expecting it.

He moves the jackets and boxes to the side, and his backpack and guitar case are revealed. He swings them both onto his back before shoving his feet into his Converse sneakers. He bends down to tie his shoes, but his fingers are shaking too much for him to make a knot. He shoves the laces underneath his feet, and stands up. He puts his hand on the doorknob. He's so close to leaving, leaving the house that he's grown up in. This is the house where his mom used to do his hair in the morning and make him smiley face pancakes. He pauses.

He can't leave without a piece of her.

"God, where is he?"

Rydel leans over Riker's body until her head is practically sticking out of the window. "He said that he'd be out by four." She looks at the clock on the dashboard that reads 4:15, and starts to rub her hands together. "Maybe we should go in after him." She looks to the rest of the guys for confirmation.

"Give him a break." Rocky mumbles as he slouches into the back seat. "Maybe he was sleeping, like a normal person." He folds his arms over his chest and shuts his eyes. Ratliff nods in agreement, not able to keep his eyes open long enough to make eye contact with Rydel. "Mark never wakes up before nine unless he has a court date or something lawyer like. Ross'll be fine."

Riker stares into the dark house that spreads across most of the street, even though Ross and Mark were the only ones living there. He grips the steering wheel of the car so tightly that his knuckles are white. "He said that he'd blink the lights if something happened." He says, but he sounds more like he's convincing himself.

Rydel starts to bite her nails, something that she never does. "If he doesn't come out in five minutes, we're going to get him."

No one argues with her.

Ross grips the picture of his mother in one hand and the strap of his guitar case with the other. Her reassuring smile and the fact that everyone is waiting for him comforts him as he walks. He knows that Rydel is probably freaking out, which causes a small smile to grace his lips. Ross rests his hand on the doorknob again, but tenses when an arm wraps around his neck.

"What are you doing up so early?" He hisses into Ross's ear. His breath reeks of alcohol, even though it's four in the morning. Has he been up all of this time, drinking? Just waiting for Ross to make his move? Ross tries to fight against Mark's grip, but the lock around his neck only gets tighter. He claws desperately at Mark's hands. "Let me go," He breathes, using up most of the air that he can get in.

"Since you think that you're so big and bad now that you're seventeen, fine. I'll follow your orders."

Mark lifts his arms, and Ross goes flying. His body lands on a coffee table, which collapses under the hit. Ross's head feels like it's going to explode, and he wonders why he didn't die. Mark's footsteps thud against the wooden floor as he makes his way towards Ross. "Things aren't so hot when you're the man in charge, huh?" Mark chuckles. Ross's eyes fly open, but he can't see anything in the darkness.

"I asked you a question." Mark's voice is hard. Ross opens his mouth, but words won't come out. Instead, a small animal like noise escapes his throat. Mark laughs, the sound echoing against the walls of the house like they're in some sort of cave. "You always were weak. Always have been, and always will be."

He steps down on Ross's wrist and smiles at the crunch. Ross's scream travels for miles.

Rydel's eyes widen at the scream, and her fingers can't unbuckle her seatbelt fast enough. The lights in the house start to flicker and Riker's body flies out of the door. Ratliff and Rocky jump up, but start to trip over the instrument cases that liter the back of the van.

Riker kicks at one of the windows, and climbs in through the broken glass. Rydel follows through the small hole that's created. Ratliff looks back to see if Rocky is following and his eyebrows rise as he watches Rocky snap a branch off of one of the trees. He walks back over to the window, swinging the branch like a maniac until there isn't any glass left. Rocky gestures for Ratliff to go first and he jumps in after his friend, the branch ready in his hand.

Everyone freezes when they see Mark gripping Ross by his neck with one hand, and holding a gun to the boy's temple with the other. Rocky grips his branch tighter while Riker's hands form fists. "Look, this is a very heroic effort that you've all put together." Mark slurs. Ross's eyes are barely open, but both of his hands clutch his ribcage.

"If you don't let him go, we'll call the cops." Rydel says, her voice shaking at the sight of the gun so close to Ross. Mark laughs again. "Go ahead, honey. Call the police. It's dark, I can't see you. You've broken into my house, and attacked my son. I was defending the two of us when I shot you."

"They'll believe Ross." Riker says, his voice quiet.

Ross shifts towards his brother, causing Mark to dig the gun harder into Ross's head. His body is still, and his eyes stare up at the ceiling. "No one will care if they find drugs in his backpack, or in his dresser, or whatever." He grins. "You should know better than anyone, son."

Riker hisses and lunges forward, but Ratliff pulls him back. Ryland presses a hand to his shoulder, but doesn't take her eyes off of Ross. Mark's eyes travel towards the tree branch in Rocky's hand, and he chuckles as he shakes his head. "You could've come back to live with your brother, but you decide to live with your druggie friends instead. Maybe Ross would've been safe if you were here."

Riker lunges at Mark again, but this time no one holds him back. Mark rolls his eyes, pushing Ross's body into Riker, making Riker back into Ratliff with his brother in his arms. Ross doesn't say anything, but buries his face into the crook of Riker's neck.

"Have him back before dinner." Mark calls as he starts walking towards the back of the house. Riker grips Ross in his arms, and they all stare at the back of Mark's head, not sure if he's being serious or not. "What are you waiting for?" Mark whirls around, the gun pointed at the group. "Get him out of my fucking sight before I change my mind!"

"I just don't understand why all of these wannabe pop stars think that I want a little jerk messing up my label."

Ally can practically hear Trish rolling her eyes through the phone. Ally never was good with kids her age, but Trish is almost seven years older than her and can still pass as a twenty year old. Ally walks along the familiar streets of Miami while holding her cell phone up to her ear. "I know what you mean, Trish." She chuckles. They've had this conversation many times.

"I mean, I need something fresh. I need something new… someone the way that you were, when I first signed you!" Trish exclaims. Ally's eyebrows furrow together. "Is that some sort of insult?" She asks. Ally would never admit it, but she's been missing her hometown of Miami ever since she was signed to Rosa Records three years ago and moved to LA.

"You know what I mean, Dawson." There goes the eye roll again. "Do you know anybody?"

Ally is silent as she walks into the mall that she spent most of her teenaged years in. Nothing has changed, and all of the stores are still in the same spots looking the exact same way. She wonders if Sonic Boom is still the same. She doubts that the guys who bought it from her father would keep it the same, but she can't help the ray of hope that she feels in her chest. She decides that she'll check out the store after heading to the ice cream shop, and starts walking in that direction. She licks her lips at the thought of a big cone filled with a few scoops of Fruity Mint Swirl.

"Dawson, are you still there?"

Ally is snapped back to reality by the sound of Trish yelling into the phone. "Yeah, sorry, just got a little sidetracked is all." She says. Is that a line outside of the ice cream store? She knows that it was always popular, but not popular enough to have so many people crowded around it. Ally doesn't remember much paparazzi in Miami. They can't possibly know that she's here. She stands on her toes and thinks that she can see a drum set.

Street performers?

Ally can't hear much of the music over the mummer of the crowd. "Are you gonna visit your dad?" Trish asks, her voice lowering a considerable amount. Ally bites her lip as she pushes herself through the crowd. "Excuse me, excuse me."

"Ally?" Trish presses.

"I don't know, maybe." Ally rolls her eyes. She doubts that she would. Then she would have to endure his new family that he pays much more attention to than his old one. Ally freezes when she gets to the front of the crowd. It looks to be a family band that's playing. There's a guitar case in front of them, and people are forming a line to throw money into it. Ally doesn't blame them; these guys sound better than most signed bands out there. The commotion doesn't slow down as they transition into another song.

"Ally, I can just hang up if you don't wanna talk right now." Trish starts speaking again. There isn't any agitation in her voice, and she sounds more like she's desperate for Ally to speak to her. Ally can't blame her, though. The incident happened almost two years ago, but it's still fresh in her mind. She has the scars to prove it.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." Ally says. She's transfixed by the band's lead singer. He's cute enough; with hair so blonde that it looks bleached, and soft brown eyes, but that's not what catches Ally's attention. He keeps messing with his tank top as the rest of the band sets up for the next song. There's a dark bruise on the boy's chest, but it's only visible for a few moments before he pulls the shirt up to his neck. The boy can't be older than eighteen. Why did he have such a horrible bruise? Ally doesn't remember many fights occurring in Miami, but then again, she was a pretty sheltered kid.

"I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing," He starts to sing without any warning. Ally is blown away by his voice. It's smooth like honey and flows with the song like they're meant to be together. Her head turns slightly to the side and she can see a blonde girl playing a keyboard, but staring at the lead singer with concern in her eyes. Maybe she knew about the fight that he got in?

"Just prayin' to a God that I don't believe in

'Cause I got time while she got freedom

'Cause when a heart breaks, no, it don't break even

Her best days will be some of my worst

She finally met a man that's gonna put her first

While I'm wide awake she's no trouble sleeping

'Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even... even... no

What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?

And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're OK?

I'm falling to pieces, yeah,

I'm falling to pieces,"

"Ally, what is that? Are you playing some music from that college channel you like?" Trish asks. Ally shakes her head frantically before she realizes that Trish can't see her.

"No, there is this awesome band that's playing outside of my favorite ice cream shop." Ally says, the idea of ice cream long forgotten. The lead singer stares out into the crowd, but his eyes aren't focused. Ally wonders what he's thinking about. "I think that they have that fresh feel that you were talking about." Ally can't help the small smile as her face as the lead singer starts to jam out with the bass player during the guitar solo, making funny faces at him.

"Here, listen." She holds the phone out towards them, hoping that Trish will be able to hear them as well as she can.

"What am I gonna do when the best part of me was always you? And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're okay?" The lead singer steps back up to his microphone, and raw emotion radiates from his voice.

"Oh glad you're okay now," The girl leans in and sings, her voice almost as sweet as his.

"I'm falling to pieces, yeah," The lead singer grips onto the microphone for dear life, while the other guitarist steps up to his. His hair is brown, Ally notices.

"Oh I'm falling, falling," He tilts his head to the side as he sings.

"One still in love while the other one's leaving," The bassist ducks his head into the same microphone.

"Ally, they're amazing! I've gotta sign them. Can you talk to them for me?" Trish asks. Ally's taken aback. Sure, Trish wanted to sign her after watching a video of her performing in front of a mirror on YouTube, but this was a little random.

"Are you sure you don't want to?" Ally asks with a nervous chuckle. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her wallet while balancing the phone between her head and her shoulder. Her eyes dart back up as the audience erupts into applause, and sees the bruise on the kid's chest again. She pulls a twenty dollar bill out and tosses it in the guitar case.

"Ally, just walk over to them and ask if they want to speak to the owner of your label. You're Ally Dawson; it shouldn't be that hard." Trish chuckles. "You weren't nearly this nervous during the Grammy's." Ally rolls her eyes, and stands around as the audience starts to leave just as quickly as they appeared.

"You and I remember the Grammy's very differently." She chuckles as she takes a tentative step forward, and the girl with the keyboard is the first once to notice her. She pulls the phone away from her ear as she stares. They're starting to pack their instruments up into cases. The lead singer is unplugging the microphone.

"Can I help you?" She asks. Her tone is close to being short, but she isn't being outright rude. The bassist stares at her with wary eyes, while the drummer walks over and starts to empty the money in the guitar case into a jar. The girl glances back towards the lead singer, who turns towards Ally with wide eyes.

"You're Ally Dawson." He gasps. Ally gives a shy smile as she nods, increasing her grip on her cell phone.

"Uh, yeah, that's me." She chuckles nervously, tucking one of her feet behind the other. "Look, I thought that you guys were amazing just now and the owner of my label thought so too because-"

"Ross, is this the girl that you're always listening to all of the time?" The guitarist walks up behind Ross and claps a hand on his shoulder. Ross winces, and the guitarist's eyebrows draw together in concern. He opens his mouth to say something else, but Ross cuts him off.

"Yeah, this is Ally, and she was just telling Ry and me something really important." He hisses, a blush creeping up his cheeks. The bassist takes a few steps towards us so that he's standing next to Ross like a bodyguard. Ross turns back to Ally, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, Rocky's an idiot. What were you saying?"

Ally shakes her head with a chuckle. "It's alright. I know how brothers can be." She paused when she caught herself talking about her dad and his ready-made family. "Um," She clears her throat when she realizes that everyone in the band is staring at her.

"He's not my brother." Rocky interrupts again, but he's bending down to scoop up money and dumps it into the jar, which is overflowing with money. He doesn't look up at Ally as he speaks. Ally's eyebrows rise as she looks between Ross and Rocky. True, they don't have the same colored hair but they still shared some sort of resemblance. They could be related.

"Riker's my brother," Ross says, pointing towards the bassist next to him, who folds his arms and doesn't take his eyes off of Ally. The resemblance between the two of them is clear.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry." Ally feels flustered, but Rocky doesn't even look up at her as he shrugs.

"Yeah, whatever," He mumbles as he grabs his guitar and places it in the case.

"What were you saying?" Ry raises her voice, and Ally's head snaps back in her direction.

"Oh, yeah, uh," Ally looks back at the phone in her hand. "I was watching your performance and I thought that you guys were really good-"

"Of course you did," Rocky mumbles, earning a whack on the head from Ratliff.

"And so did the owner of my label," Ally continues.

"Really?" Ross asks, the excitement clear in his voice. He looks to his side, but Riker doesn't even flinch, though his eyebrows rise.

"She wanted to speak with you," Ally holds the phone out in their general direction. Riker takes the phone and all eyes turn towards him. He doesn't say anything, just mumbles in response to certain things. Ally can hear Trish's excited voice from where she stands. For a twenty seven year old who only owned the label because of her father, Trish was pretty into her job.

Ross's eyes dart between Riker and Ally, and she smiles at him each time he looks at her. His brown eyes are so soft; she can't imagine him in the middle of a fist fight. And judging by the way that Riker stands next to him, she doesn't think that anyone would even get to him.

Riker hangs up the phone, and hands it back to Ally. She tries to smile at him, but he doesn't meet her eyes.

"What'd she say?" Ross asks. He looks like a kid about to open his presents on Christmas morning.

Riker shrugs, but there's a small smile on his face. His younger brother's excitement has gotten to him. "It looks like we have a meeting with Trish De La Rosa tomorrow morning."