Title: Nowhere Left To Run

Warnings: Swearing, violence.

Plot: Helping The Hounded is a new show for troubled British teens between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. Two kids are paired up and sent across the world to a strict but loving family for one month to try and sort themselves out.

Disclaimer: I don't own McFly. That would be wrong and creepy. But I find them very hot and would totally break that wrong creepiness if I had a chance. For now, though, I don't own them and this is fictional.

Dougie sat on top of his suitcase in the departure lounge, trying to ignore the cameras pointed in his face. When he got on the show's private airplane, he would be forced to sit by some kid he didn't know for eight hours before then having to spend a month with them. He didn't want to do the show – hell no. His mother did, and since he was under eighteen he had no real choice.

"So, Dougie, are you looking forward to meeting your brother-for-the-month?

"Fuck off."

Although he was only fifteen, he was depressed, did awfully at school and had no friends. He had been picked because of his sheer narcissism.

"Time to go Dougie!" A PA woman told him rather too cheerfully, bustling up. He picked up his single allowed suitcase, as well as his guitar case (which wasn't really allowed but he had said quite frankly that he wouldn't go without it).

On the plane already was a boy a couple of years older. He had straightened brown hair, was stick thin and looked as nervous as hell.

"Hi, I'm Danny – what type of guitar is that?" he asked, immediately attracted to the black case.

"Just an old crappy one I got at the market."

He flopped down next to Danny, did his safety belt then pulled it out. "You play?"

"Yeah, a bit – I sing as well. Do you?"

"I like singing as well. I haven't had chance because of being in the hotel with there fuckwits for a week, though."

Danny laughed. "Why have they got you in here?"

"Depression and general apathy to life. You?"

Danny smiled. "I, err...well, I was at a club, and some dickhead punched me. Normally I'm pretty good with that sort of thing, but I was pissed and it was late, so I just attacked him. He went to hospital, I was told I could do this show or have a couple of weeks in prison. This seemed like a better option."

Dougie began to play quietly, ignoring Danny. It was an awesome song, as far as Danny could tell – bright and truthful.

"What's the song called?"

"Silence Is A Scary Sound."

When they arrived at the airport they were told the details.

"We are in Florida! You are going to be staying with the Judd family – they're English, but moved here a few years ago. They have one son, Harry, who is about your age. What are your thoughts, Dougie?" The sickly-sweet woman asked.

"At least I'll get a fucking suntan."

The cameraman gave the director a grin – evidently they were pleased to have someone like Dougie. People like Dougie are great for people like them.

The house was huge. It shocked both of them to see it, as neither came from a rich family. Two cars, highly polished, sat at the front. Danny and Dougie, followed closely by the staff, had to walk up to the door together and knock. When they did, a kid about their age answered. He had a mohawk with blonde dyed ends, was rather attractive and was dressed in a tight white T-shirt and black jeans. On his feet were scarlet trainers.

"Hi, I'm Harry. Come in, I'll take your bags."

He took the two bags easily, but Dougie kept tight hold of his guitar.

"I'm Danny."


Harry lead the two upstairs. "Mum and dad are out, but they'll be back in a bit."

They all knew that this was a ploy by the show rather than a genuine accident or coincidence. Harry lead them into a fairly large bedroom. Two beds sat against one wall, a wardrobe, chest of draws and mirror another. A rug sat on the floor, and a single painting above the beds, but everywhere else was bare. Even the curtains were uniform dull blue against the fresh white wall.

"I sleep next door. When mum and dad get back they'll go over the rules – for now, you may as well unpack."

Harry left the room and closed the door.

When he next opened it, he found neither had unpacked. Danny was strumming on Dougie's guitar, while Dougie listened to music on an iPod.

"Mum and dad want you downstairs."

The two put down their entertainment and followed him down.

"Basically, we have no rules except no alcohol, no drugs, no electronic devices like mobile phones or music players and no bad foods like chocolate. Your curfew is six on a weekday, and nine at the weekend."

Danny and Dougie both stared at them. "You're not taking my iPod! Fuck you!"

With that, Dougie stormed upstairs.