Gunnar had a key. He could just walk in.

But, no. That was a bad plan. She had given him the key only because she locked hers in the house fairly regularly. Why she did not just use the key to lock the door from the outside and avoid that problem, he would never know. But he couldn't use it just to barge in her house. He glanced over for the third time to reassure himself her car was actually in the driveway and rang the doorbell again, aware that a neighbor was watching him. He smiled politely and gave an awkward wave, debating once again just using the key.

He, nor Scarlett, nor Will, nor any of the others had seen or heard from Roan since The Exes album release party several days ago and they were starting to get worried. After quite a bit of alcohol, they had all lost track of each other at the party. Each one found their own place, their own people to swoon, playing the game to the best of their ability. Roan had mentioned feeling out of place to Gunnar, not being from the music world, and had gone off to get a drink. No one had seen her since.

The amount of time he had spent standing on her porch knocking and ringing the doorbell had gotten a little out of hand at this point. He walked over to the window and tried to glance in. The blinds and curtains were pulled but he was fairly certain he could see a form lying under a blanket on the couch in the living room.

He touched his key chain again. If that was her on the couch, and she wasn't answering the door, or any phone calls, or responding to texts, something could be seriously wrong.

Noting the neighbor once again staring at him, now with some malice, he put the key in the lock and walked inside. "Roan?"

She was there, lying on the couch, blanket tucked in tight around her. She appeared to be sleeping. He let out a long sigh of relief. "Roan. Hey, Roan." He walked over to her and shook her shoulder to wake her but she flinched violently and he quickly pulled his hand away.

That's when he saw it. The swollen, busted lip, the tears streaming sideways down her turned face landing in a pool on the pillow, the bloodstains and dirt covering a white dress laying on the floor. "My god, Roan. What happened?" The tears flowed even faster now but she still didn't open her eyes or acknowledge his presence in any way. His heart was racing as he crouched down beside her and reached out again to touch her shoulder but she pulled away immediately, finally opening her eyes.

"Don't do that. Please." Her voice was pleading before it broke into sobs.

"Okay," he put his hand back on his crouched knee. "I'm sorry. Talk to me though, Roan. What's going on?" The panic in Gunnar's voice was evident.

"I… I… can't. I'm fine." Roan stuttered through the sobs as she managed to right herself. Gunnar could see that after dropping the soiled dress to the floor, she hadn't replaced it with anything and she was shivering.

"Let's get you cleaned up. C'mon." Gunnar held out a shaking hand. He tried desperately to steady it as she stared at it for quite a while, pondering rather or not to take it. Eventually she gathered up the blanket to ensure she would be covered upon standing and started off unsteadily to the stairs with excruciating slowness as if every step pained her.

Gunnar couldn't put a thought together has he followed behind, ready to catch her if her legs gave out at any given moment. He wanted to pick her up and carry her, to get her upstairs, showered and dressed as quickly as possible, as if getting her to look more like her usual self would somehow get her back to being her usual self, get her back to singing horribly out of tune so he could poke fun at her about it, get her back to rambling about her job in technical jargon he would never understand, get her out of this state as if nothing were the matter and they could continue on like all this was not real.

He thought again of dress on the floor. He was sure it was the one she had worn to the party; her bright red hair had stood out beautifully against the stark white. It was slightly lower cut than she normally wore and she had been uncomfortable with it no matter how many times Scarlett had told her she was "a grown ass woman and could show off a little if she wanted". It was definitely the same dress. The mud on it could be explained. Roan had been drunk, it had been raining, and her unsteadiness in the heels she had been wearing had been a point of humor that night. Maybe she had fallen. But the blood? It was possible she had busted her lip on something when she had fallen but none of that explained the state she was in now, basically catatonic.

They finally reached the top of the stairs. "Go sit down. I'll turn on the shower and find some clothes." She did not respond but did as he said. As she sat down the blanket fell, ever so slightly; just enough for Gunnar to catch a glimpse of the bruises. Four of them. Marks left from fingers violently grabbing the back of her neck. He started to say something but decided to wait, still hoping getting her cleaned up would somehow change things.

"I'll be back." He reached out to touch her hand reassuringly but thought better of it before making contact. It didn't matter, she flinched anyway. Gunnar could not watch her anymore. He needed a second so he left to get her clothes. It took him a few minutes to find the pajama pants he thought she had said were her favorites, a red pair with white polka dots her sister had given her for Christmas a few years back, and an oversized t-shirt from the animal rehab she volunteered for regularly. He heard the shower door open and close as Roan got in. He laid the clothes on the bathroom counter, told her he would be in the hall if she needed him, and closed the door.

Twenty minutes passed before the door opened and she walked out, hair dripping water all down the back of her shirt and onto the floor. She leaned against the door frame, still looking pale and weak but the tears seemed to have subsided and the busted lip looked better now that it had been washed. "When's the last time you ate?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Is there anything here? I'll make something. You look like you're about to faint."

She shook her head and with a hint of friendly snark in her voice replied, "What do you think?" It was the first thing she had said or done that had sounded even remotely like herself.

"Fair enough. Stupid question. There's never food in this house. I'll go to Tommy's and get us something." He did not want to leave. She looked like she would fall apart again at any second and he still wanted answers. "Will you be ok while I'm gone?"

"I'll be fine." She nodded as she started down the stairs. He followed her back to the living room, where she took a seat in a chair, staring blankly at the dress still on the floor. He quickly, without a word, picked it up and moved it to the laundry room, out of site. He then grabbed his keys and headed to the door.

As he opened it, he heard her whisper his name. He looked back. The tears where streaming down her face again and there was terror in her eyes. "Please hurry back."