Title: Believe In Me

Summary: AU. Camp Rock never happened. No Final Jam, no lies that need to be reversed... just a girl that's in love with her music and a guy that has temporarily forgotten what that can feel like.

Pairing/s: Smitchie. Seeing as it's in Mitchie & Shane's POVs, I might just imply other relationships and then you guys can fill in the blanks. I wouldn't know how to give details on the others.

Authors Note: Okay so. I love this chapter. I love the last part; just showing how much Shane really has changed and I love the situation and I can picture it perfectly in my head. Hopefully you guys agree. And as I write this, I have 195 reviews, which blows my mind. I love every reviewer; thank you so much. Every review I get spurs me to keep writing and keep going and the fact that you guys think I'm a good writer is so complimentary. Thank you. So much.

Disclaimer: Sorry, I haven't purchased the rights to Camp Rock yet. It's on my to-do list though. Right after jumping off the Empire State Building.

Music: Better Man – James Morrison

"For you, I am a better man"

I spotted Mitchie as soon as she graced the hall with her presence. We'd left her to get dressed on the bus and told her to meet us at the stage when she was ready. Having only just finished making sure the guitars were in tune, she was just in time to hear a few songs. She was definitely going to be sick of hearing them by the end of the fortnight; not that I thought she'd mind about this. Mitchie Torres didn't even like Connect 3, apparently. Or not a lot anyway. Supposedly, the Sex Pistols were much more her thing.

"Goodnight and Goodbye," I muttered to Nate, who nodded once and then went over to the piano, ready to play the intro to that one. It had been the one she'd been singing on the roof when I first met her. And whether she remembered this, I didn't know, but it seemed fitting. Saturday – which while it was only five days ago – seemed like it had been years ago. Five days felt like five months. Five years, even.

Jason recognised the first few notes almost instantly, as did the backing band we always took on tour with us but rarely associated with. Well... I didn't. Nate and Jason might've. Realizing that I didn't even know our drummer's name, I felt instantly guilty. If Mitchie knew, she'd have been totally ashamed of me. How did I not know his name? I shook my head to make myself focus on the song – I could make amends later – and picked up the beat almost immediately, though Nate was the first to sing anyway.

While Nate sung from the piano, I watched as Mitchie walked to the front row and sat down, a smile playing on her lips as she curled her legs up underneath her body to watch us. Just her presence made me feel at ease. Like I could play a million more shows to fans that I didn't know and who didn't know me, singing songs that I hadn't written if she was just there in the front row. Or backstage, which she would be for the next two weeks. The next seven shows.

Seven more shows. Three in New Jersey – including tonight's – then one more in Pennsylvania, where we'd already visited earlier on in the tour but were going back to, and then the final three in the state of New York, ending up in Madison Square Garden on the final night. Thinking about it, it seemed like a lot. Seven was going to be nothing in comparison to the thirty we'd already done. It was going to be over before I knew it. Before I wanted it to be.

Hearing my cue, I started singing, grinning at Mitchie as she mouthed the words back at me, pulling a face. I doubted that this was how she'd expected the end of her week to be, but it looked like it was fun. I hoped she was having fun. Though she'd only been on tour a day. And she hadn't even seen a show yet. So it got better...

Wow. Was I really worrying about her being bored when it was only the first day? I mean, I was bored so often on tour that it was almost normal. But I was going to do everything in my power to stop her being bored? Nate better not find this one out. He'll accuse me of being totally whipped and I'm not even dating the girl.

She's not even interested, so...

"Hold on tight, it's a rollercoaster ride we're on," I sung, tapping my foot in time with the beat and choosing to save my energy for the show later by not running around and pretending that there was an audience. I just kept my gaze trained either on what the other two members of my band were doing so that I could keep time, or on Mitchie, who was still watching as though she'd never seen anything like this before. Which... thinking about it properly, she probably hadn't. She'd been to concerts... but they were different from being in a practically empty with just you and a band occupying the large space.

A rollercoaster ride would actually be a pretty good way to describe it. Up and down and not knowing which way things are going, but knowing that you kind of like the crazy feeling you get whenever you look at her and find her looking back at you.

I'd almost said something to her the night before. It was midnight and I'd so very nearly worked up the courage to tell her that she was driving me crazy and that it might be weird but I liked her as more than a friend. As more than what we'd agreed to be only four days before. But then she'd moved and broken the eye contact and the moment was gone. And while, if I asked Nate for example, some people might say that it wasn't about the moment, it was just about telling her the truth, it didn't feel right. The moment is important, regardless of what some people say. It needs to be the right time.

The song had managed to finish – I'd sung automatically, without really thinking about it, which is what happened when you did it day in and day out for years – and Nate was standing up to pick up his guitar and practise another song. It wouldn't be too much longer, seeing as we still had to get breakfast (though it was nearing eleven, so it would be more like lunch...) so I figured two more songs maybe? We only had to check that everything sounded okay, and we were professionals at this, after all.

"One more?" Nate piped up. "Can you two handle one more? Because then really, all Shane's work is done and you guys can go and get your food. Me and Jason can finish up."

It was a generous offer – though he had a point; he and Jason usually did it all anyway, because I was a jerk – and I shrugged, looking over at Mitchie for an answer. "We can leave them to it if you're hungry?"

"I don't want to mess anything up..." she brought her shoulders up and bit her lip. Which meant that she was hungry but didn't want to inconvenience us, just put into girl speak.

I opened my mouth to tell her she wouldn't be, but Jason got there first.

"Oh, you wouldn't be. Shane's never usually in sound check anyway. He's only just started getting involved again since he met you. Which is a really big coincid - "

Dropping my microphone on the stage (accidentally-on-purpose, of course) and creating a huge buzz of that audio static that makes everyone wince (and more specifically, stops everyone from speaking) I ignored Nate, who was laughing slightly as he pretended to be inspecting his fretboard. How was a guy supposed to do anything with his two best friends always saying stuff that they shouldn't?

"Okay. We'll take you up on that offer, Nate. And go and get something to eat." I said, before anybody else could say something else that might let something slip. Honestly, they might as well paint 'Shane likes Mitchie' on the drum kit and let the entire world read it.

Okay. Maybe they shouldn't just as well do that, because that might make it a little more obvious than what they're making it right now. And I'd rather not have to explain that one.

Nate just nodded, strumming a tune on his guitar, starting up another song. It was one of the ones that we'd been told to sing; one of the cheesy pop songs that Connect 3 were so well known for but hadn't actually had any say about singing. Acoustically, it didn't sound quite as bad. It was on the track, when the synthesized beats had been added and it had been sped up to the point just before we began to sound like we'd induced helium.

Again, I slipped into a state of not really noticing what was going on around me. Hm. So we were going to get something to eat. Where could we go? I'd never been to this part of New Jersey – I'd been brought up on the other side of the state – and so didn't know anywhere. I'm sure there was a chain somewhere around though. Heck, I'd even settle for McDonalds if I was settling for it with Mitchie eating opposite me. Or next to me, whichever one it was. Opposite was more likely though, seeing as there was only two of us going and most of the time you sat in seats facing each ot... why am I even thinking about it? What did where we were going to sit matter? The point was, we were going to sit. And possibly have a proper conversation, which, seeing as we'd had less than ten or something, was still a novelty for me.

"Shane." Nate's voice was stern as I snapped out of my thoughts and turned to look at him. What had I done? What had I just been singing? Um... oh. Yeah. What?

"What?"

"You messed the lyrics up," he said, as though I were a child of three and needed everything spelt out for me explicitly. "You know what? You two just go off and have fun, okay?"

Mitchie was trying to hide a grin from her face from where she was sitting. She stood up slowly, shrugging at me. "It was an awesome rewrite..."

Uh-oh. What had I said when I'd been engrossed my thoughts? I shot a glance at Nate, who just rolled his eyes at me, gesturing exaggeratedly to the door. Whatever I'd said, it can't have been about Mitchie because otherwise he would've been grinning like an idiot. Which made my worry subside slightly. At least I hadn't said something too stupid. And they were letting me go, so who was I to take ages to leave? Taking a long time might allow them to change their minds and tell me to stay for the rest of the check. Nobody wanted that. And I mean nobody.

So, jumping down from the stage in one fluid motion (or so I'd like to think, but nobody outside of that hall would ever know that I stumbled just a little bit as I landed) I smiled at Mitchie and nodded toward the hallway. "Food?"

"Food." She nodded, smiling right back at me. Glancing over at Nate and Jason who were pretending not to watch us by becoming totally riveted by the instruments in their hands, she bit her lip. "Don't they want anything?"

I shook my head. "Nah. They can get their own. Or, if we're feeling nice, we can bring something back for them."

"And are we feeling nice?" She queried, looking away from them and back at me. I liked it when she looked at me. BLAH SHANE THINK STRAIGHT WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU MAN?

Trying not to let my inner screaming at myself show, I shrugged. "Possibly."

She rolled her eyes, taking a few steps towards the door and turning back after those few movements to make sure I was following her. "Are you coming?"

I nodded, catching up to her in two paces, and without a glance back to the stage, we left the hall and walked out into the fall sunlight.

---

"You can't have any." Mitchie shook her head, her brown hair bouncing up and down as she did so and her face defiant – though there was a hint of a smile there, which automatically made me smile too.

I put a pout on my face, trying to sneakily navigate my fork around her hands and everything else that was blocking my way on the table. Hey, it wasn't my fault that she'd ordered something that looked way nicer than what I'd ordered. Note to self: always order what Mitchie's ordering. Because her chocolate chip pancakes looked way nicer than whatever it was that was on my plate.

"Shane. No." She shook her head even more vigorously, trying to move her plate out of the way of my fork, which was getting dangerously close to it. "Why don't you just order your own?"

Because this was more fun. "Because I refuse to believe that you're going to eat all of them?" She was not going to eat all three of those. No way.

Mitchie laughed, her eyebrows raised at me. "Would you like to place a bet on that, Mr. Grey?"

"Actually yes. Yes I would. Because there is no way all three of those could fit inside you. You're way too small for that." She was totally thin. Too thin for her stomach to be big enough to eat all of that. Her expression showed me that she thought otherwise though.

Shrugging, she sat back in her chair, twirling her fork around between her thumb and finger. "I would recommend you not doing that."

I shrugged too, mimicking her actions. "I would recommend that you shared your pancakes with me. But it looks like neither of us are going to listen to the other one, doesn't it?"

We were attracting a few looks – well, I was, seeing as I'm not sure many people would recognise Mitchie. I might have been wrong though – but so far, there had been no interruptions. And I didn't really notice, for the first time in a long time. I didn't care how many people were recognising me, for once. Who cared?

"I guess it does," she said, stabbing into her food with her fork, breaking off a piece and putting it into her mouth. "So..."

I didn't move from my relaxed position in my chair. Shaking my hair from out of my eyes, I watched as she ate, not really feel any resentment for the fact that she was eating right in front of me on purpose. Because she was. But it was okay; she'd give in and let me have some in time. I just knew it.

"I think we should carry on our game," I said, the thought suddenly striking me. It was the first time we'd actually been alone and face-to-face since that night. And if I remembered correctly, I still had at least fourteen questions left.

A confused expression clouded her face for a few seconds, as she presumably tried to remember which game it was I was talking about, but she soon worked it out, a smile spreading across her face as she broke off another piece. "Hm. Well... okay."

I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the table and racking my brains to think of a question that I could ask. "Okay, so my turn. Cool."

"Um... I think you'll find it was my turn," she corrected, her eyes shimmering and her fork pointed in my direction. Which I was okay with, as long as she didn't randomly decide to plunge it into any part of my body. That would have sucked.

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to recall who had been the last person to ask a question. It had been a few days ago, and very late at night, so I couldn't remember exactly. Was it her turn? I was sure it was mine. Though I have been known to be a bit of a wishful thinker. "It was?"

She nodded, looking back down at her pancakes. "Uh-huh. You asked me about my family. And then we got to your bus and everything else went down. My turn to ask you a question."

Wow she had a good memory. Which sucked for me – I preferred asking the questions – but I couldn't deny it. She was right; I could vaguely recollect it. Nodding, I gestured for her to go first and then sat back, preparing myself for whatever was to come.

Mitchie chewed on her lip, glancing up at me for a few seconds before looking back down at her place. "I... okay. What is the best day of your life? So far, obviously." It didn't look as though she was planning on asking that one initially, but I didn't dispute it. I might've been wrong. But it was just the look in her eyes, and the glance that she gave me. I didn't know.

"Um..." I shrugged, thinking hard. When was the best day of my life? It was hard to distinguish when the best day was, because I'd had so many bad days. And I'd had days that I'd tried to convince myself were the best days of my life, but I could see flaws in them all. Best day? "My first day at Camp Rock. I met Jason and Nate and we realized how awesome it would be to make a band. We wrote our first song that day, sitting by the lake, and while it totally sucks when I remember the lyrics now, back then it was amazing. We didn't have any expectations to live up to. There was nobody telling us what kind of music to make or what to sing. We were who we wanted to be, and that's always the best feeling in the world."

Mitchie nodded at my answer, picking at her pancakes slightly. She'd polished off one of them, but the other two didn't look like they were in danger of being gorged upon. Unless she let me at them, that is. "Okay. Your turn."

I had to think for a few seconds before I came up with a question. It was harder than it seemed. Sure, when you had the ability to ask someone anything, a lot of things came to mind. But I didn't want to freak Mitchie out. I didn't want to get too personal, too quickly. And the things that I wanted to know – mainly, why did she want to come on the tour? Did she like me? - seemed like things that I could never think about asking her. The question that came out though, was just about right for a game like this. "What's one thing you've never said out loud to anybody else? Something about you." I added that last part, just in case she was smarter than I anticipated and answered with something stupid like 'there's an armadillo in your rucksack'. Because I didn't think she'd have said that out loud to anybody else. And if she had, that was incredibly weird.

"I want to be a singer," she stated, after a few seconds of absolute silence. "I haven't ever let anybody else hear me sing. Or hear my songs. I just... I pretend I can't. Which probably isn't the best way to get myself out there, but I can't help it. I want to do what you do, which is why I had so much resentment for you to begin with. I hated the fact that you were living this amazing life, doing what I had always wanted to do, and yet you were throwing it away. Before I knew the whole story, I honestly believed that you had no idea what you had. You had no idea that people would kill to be in your position. But I want that. It's like... I can't imagine myself doing anything else. When people ask me what I want to do when I'm older, I pretend I don't know, or I make something up. But inside I'm screaming that I want to sing. And I don't know why I don't tell them, or tell Cait and let her hear me or anything... I just feel as though it's pointless. Because while I can't imagine myself doing anything else... I can't imagine how it's ever going to happen for me."

She fell silent, scanning my face. I couldn't see my exact reaction, but I could envision what it looked like. I felt guilty. I felt sympathy. I felt confidence to help her get what she wanted. I felt so many things in so little time. Sitting forward, I impulsively reached for one of her hands, just like I'd wanted to do so badly when I'd called her on that school day and she'd been so upset. She didn't stop me.

"Mitchie. You're an amazing singer. The best I've ever heard. And I'm not just saying that. I know that you can do whatever you set your mind to. If it can happen to me, why not to you? But you just have to have faith in yourself. You have to look in the mirror and see what I see. This amazing girl, who is way more pretty than she gives herself credit for and is so much more talented than she realizes."

I wasn't even thinking about what I was saying. The words were just spilling out of my mouth; uncontrollable. But I didn't want to control them. I didn't need to control them. They were what I needed to say. They were what she needed to hear.

The silence that passed between us was like it had been the night before. That tense silence that you want to break, but at the same time don't. Because I was looking into her eyes and she was looking into mine and if that eye contact never ended, I could've died happy.

"Shane..." she began, my name falling from her lips as a whisper.

"OH MY GOSH, IT'S SHANE GREY!" A cry from behind us alerted my attention, and I closed my eyes in frustration. No. No, no, no. Why now? Why?

Mitchie sighed, looking at the pancakes in front of her and then pushing them away. Then she looked past my shoulder to where the voice was coming from, smiling at whoever was there. "Aw, Shane. It's a little kid."

I frowned. "I don't care who it is, they need to stop bothering me in a public forum. What? I can't be a normal person?"

She rolled her eyes at me, standing up and pushing her chair back, walking over to the little kid who had exclaimed my identity at the top of their lungs. Now we were attracting a lot more looks. I turned around to watch her, as Mitchie crouched down to the level of the small child and smiled.

"Hey. What's your name?"

The kid looked from me to her, the admiration and nervousness evident in her eyes. She was about ten, her blonde hair tied up in two pigtails. She was a cute kid. But still, didn't her parents teach her manners? As in, not to interrupt two people in the middle of a conversation? "Abby..."

Mitchie grinned at her. "That's a really nice name. I've always liked that name. So, Abby... are you a fan of Connect 3?"

Abby nodded, mutely.

I couldn't help but admire Mitchie's handling of the situation. I'd always gotten annoyed at fans approaching me. She was new to this whole thing, but she was just being nice. She was being herself. And while this little girl didn't know who she was, Abby was already liking her, just because she was being nice. That and the fact that she was with me.

"Shane?" Mitchie was looking up at me from her lowered position on the floor. She didn't even seem fazed by the people watching and whispering around us. Maybe it was that they weren't her schoolmates. Maybe it was because she had something to concentrate on. Or maybe she'd just gotten more confident. "Shane. Sign the napkin for her."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why?"

"Shane. Imagine if you were walking into a diner to get lunch and you saw Johnny Rotten sitting eating food. Or Mick Jones. Or Joe Strummer. Are you telling me that you would not interrupt their meal in order to get an autograph?" Mitchie was looking up at me, a stern look on her face. I knew that she wasn't going to drop this. And I also knew that she had a point. I probably would freak out slightly.

"I don't..." Well... I wasn't going to go down without a fight.

Mitchie stood up, her hands on her hips. Then she grabbed the napkin and turned to one of the waiters, who was watching as though in a trance. "Excuse me? Do you have a pen we can borrow?" When the guy handed one over, his hand trembling slightly, she shoved them both into my hands and stared at me. "Sign it. Look. You're Shane Grey. This is what is expected of you. Sure, people think you're a jerk and that you're this egotistical jackass, but that isn't you. I know that isn't you. And you claim to want to change it. But look around, Shane. All of these people have just witnessed you not wanting to do something as simple as sign an autograph for a little girl. You want people to think you've changed like I know you have? Sign it. Take a picture. Smile a little. You're Shane Grey; enjoy it."

I looked up at her for a few seconds, just taking in how amazing she was when she was confident and standing up for what she thought. How brilliant it was that she was still there, telling me to do what was right instead of walking away. I nodded, standing up and walking over to Abby, who was still looking slightly shellshocked.

"Hey. What's up?" I said, feeling kind of awkward. I couldn't remember the last time fan interaction had been like this. I didn't know what to do, what to say.

Abby shrugged, her voice high pitched as she replied. "Not much."

I smiled, holding the pen in my hands and writing on the napkin: Abby. It was great to meet you. I love your pigtails! Glad you're a Connect 3 fan; keep singing those songs. Love, Shane Grey. I handed her the napkin and her fingers clasped it, her hand shaking. She beamed at me; a beam that lit up my heart. She was happy. I'd made her happy, just by signing a ratty old napkin. "You want a picture? Is your mom or dad around?"

The little girl nodded, pointing in the direction of one of the booths, where a man was sitting smiling at us. I waved. "Do you have a camera phone or something?"

He stood up, nodding. His phone was out within seconds, and he held it up to capture an image of his daughter and the famous singer she'd met in the diner. "Say cheese."

Two camera clicks went off, confusing me slightly. Turning my head to where Mitchie was standing, I watched her, grinning as she pocketed her own phone.

"What are you - "

She shrugged, the smile on her face as innocent as she could make it. "Just getting proof that Shane Grey can be a nice guy."

I rolled my eyes in her direction, turning to Abby who looked so happy that she could burst. Leaning in closer, I whispered in her ear, watching Mitchie out of the corner of my eye as a confused expression crossed her face.

"Can you do me a favor?" I whispered, pretending it was something big. Which, in a way, it was. I waited for her to nod, and she did so. "Can you go and tell Mitchie that she's really pretty? And that she should share some of her pancakes with me?"

Abby giggled, nodding. "Thank you Shane." Giving me a quick hug – which took me by surprise – she bounded over to Mitchie and tugged on her arm until she bent down to receive the message. I watched as she listened, her eyes lighting up as she heard what Abby had to say. Then she rolled her eyes and glanced at me. "You're insane, Grey."

"Nope." I shook my head. "Just hungry."

Rolling her eyes again, she stood up properly, looking down at the little girl that had changed so much without even meaning to. She'd spoken to me at first when I was all ready to turn around and bite her head off, and then Mitchie had done it again. Shown me what was right and who I used to be. "It was nice to meet you sweetheart."

Abby smiled, running back to her father and beginning a conversation with him almost immediately. He was grateful; I could see that. He'd probably heard about me too. As had a lot of the other people here. Standing up, I looked around at everyone. Some were pretending not to watch me, whereas others were just watching without a care. Nobody else looked like they were going to approach for autographs though. Not that I wanted to take that chance.

"Do you want these, Pop Star?" Mitchie asked, still standing up but looking down at the cold pancakes. They didn't look all that appetizing now that they were cold. And it was better to just get back to the bus. We'd caused a bit of a scene – as nice of a scene as it was – and anybody could have called the press. I didn't want to get Mitchie involved in all of that. Not yet. We still needed to prepare her. People would find out at the tour tonight, but at least we had a few hours to prepare her for what it would be like...

I shook my head. "Want to just go back and see how Nate and Jason are doing?"

She looked up at me, shrugging. "Sure thing."

I walked over to the till, handing over more money than what was necessary and refusing to take any change. It was money. I had enough of it. And what was money anyway? Money couldn't buy happiness, I knew that from experience.

Mitchie was standing at the door, holding it open for me to walk through and I did, both of us falling into step with each other almost instantly. She smiled at me, her eyes sparkling. "That was a really nice thing you did in there. You made that little girl's year."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't have done it if it weren't for you. You... you've shown me that I need to try harder. If I want to get rid of this whole jerk persona, I need to think about what I'm doing. And when Abby grinned like that..."

She stopped dead. "Whoa. Who are you and what have you done with Shane Grey?"

I laughed, turning towards her and walking backwards away from the restaurant. "I'm not sure. But I don't think I'll be changing back anytime soon. Is that okay with you?"

"It's more than okay."

The look on her face was hard to describe, but it was gone within seconds. I barely got a glimpse of it. Instead, it was replaced with a mischievous expression as she caught up to me and grinned. "Race you back to the bus."

And with those six words, she was running ahead, not even looking back at me.

I sighed, watching her run for a few seconds, before shaking my head and laughing. "You got a major head start there, Torres! So not fair!"