I know I am in the process of writing a few other stories but this idea jumped into my mind and I could not help but to introduce it already!

This is a Big Time Rush fanfiction featuring James and multiple characters from the show who must endure the after math of a school shoot out. My story is based on the emotional movie "April's Showers" which was inspired by the events that took place at Columbine High School, April 20, 1999. Reviews, critiques and questions are appreciated; I hope you enjoy this tear-jerker and that this work can also honor the memory of those lost.

Disclaimer:

I do not claim copyright or ownership of any character appearing in this piece of fiction nor am I earning a profit for producing this work. I also admit that I have closely followed the script of "April's Showers" and do not claim that this story is purely from my own imagination.

All characters of Big Time Rush © Nickelodeon and many scenes and inspiration (c) Andrew Robinson, the writer and producer of "April's Showers"

Rating:

Mature-Violence, guns/weapons, sensitive subject material, character death, suicide, depression and potential graphic imagery

Chapter One: Warnings

The quiet, distilled vibrating crescendo of a phone buzzed multiple times within the confines of a jean pocket of a boy apparently disconnected from reality. He stood stock still, his ears blocking out the unimportant yammering of adolescents crowding close to his resolute yet shaken body. Hazel irises speckled with gold gazed staunchly forward at a plain wall, playing the gory memories seared into his mind over and over again.

"Hello? Hello, James?"

"Camille...hey."

"Oh my goodness," Her breath hissed through the speakers, thoroughly relieved,

"Thank God you're alright!"

"Yeah, I'm… I'm fine." He stated, knowing it was a lie, "Where are you?"

"I'm at Einstein's Café a few blocks over from school, where have you been?" She asked, tone frantic and still ringing with shock,

"I'm pent up at Jefferson Elementary. They won't let us leave. And…a lot of people are still missing."

"James, don't worry." She gushed, "It's over."

"Over…?"

"Yeah-they got the shooter." Her voice dropped, leaving him hanging in silence.

"C-Camille? Camille, who-"

"It's…it was Seth." The name pummeled him, like when a fist strikes a gut. Stunned, James tilted away from the receiver, mind reeling. A soft and timid voice gently called out towards him from the speaker, anchoring the distraught teenager back to reality.

"James I'm sorry…I thought you knew. James? Hello, are you there? Hello?"

Earlier That Day

A parking lot filled with a wild assortment of vehicles ranging from the utmost of luxury to the over-used piles of junk somehow managing to hold their gears together, witnessed the everyday entrance of thousands of kids beginning their early morning migration towards the academic institution.

Across the way a thin and rather pale student, with a large load of books held securely in his hands, scurried through the forest of Lexes, Dodges and those hailing from a Hyundai branch. After scaling the steel valley of a Volks Wagon, the boy emerged in the middle of the roadway, cheerfully headed to class.

Feet are a tricky thing, often taking us to places we really should not go and other times allowing us to kick up our heels and dance our worries away. Although these tendencies of feet may not always be beneficial to the owner, the primitive aspect of footwear usually does not hamper one's journey unless it has become untied or if it has been tampered with. And in this case, neither of these situations occurred. Rather, some kid wearing a beige Quicksilver t-shirt struck his shin out, causing the protagonist of these past few paragraphs to haphazardly trip.

"Better watch where you're going next time, dweeb!" The jeer of the older student mocked the boy frantically trying to gather up his belongings spilt across the entire mid-section of the street.

Shuffling on the pavement, he quickly grabbed his textbooks, stuffing stacks of paper back into his backpack without caring which order they arrived. Normally he was a very conspicuous fellow, prone to accuracy and established order yet both these traits blew out the window the moment he realized what a unfortunate situation he had found himself within-ears tinged red in embarrassment due to cars on either side of him honking for him to get out of the way.

"Here man, let me help you with that." The presence of another crouched besides the pale teen while both students gathered the loose material together. Momentarily, they were able to shift to the sidewalk, bumped by other students along the way who were also running late for class.

"Don't let them get to you." Logan looked up at the new comer, flicking his attention back down upon recognizing his protector,

"It's easy for you to say that until they pick on you, James." The boy in question blinked into the sunlight, shielding his face as his other arm passed over the remaining papers that he salvaged from the black asphalt,

"Just think, in a few more weeks, we'll all be out of here."

"I know; I've been counting down the days. I can't wait until graduation!" James glanced over at Logan who was solely preoccupied with straightening out the contents of his backpack,

"I thought you were in my class?"

A shy smile slipped across his stern features, "I was a junior with you until I moved up a grade."

"That's great, good for you!" Thin eyebrows arched up in surprise of the genuine compliment, followed by a quiet stammering,

"Um…thanks you." James returned the boy's more timid gaze, light brown eyes shining with good-natured cheerfulness,

"Yeah, no worries." The tall, lanky one shrugged his shoulders before bending slightly downward to make eye contact with his shorter companion, "I'll see you at rehearsal?"

"Oh yes…alright. See you then." With that, the scatter brained, stripped shirt-wearing boy took off awkwardly, stuffing the more bulbous books between the crevice of his armpit as he stalked across the blacktop and into the main entrance of Maplewood High.

"Bye." James muttered as an afterthought, brushing off Logan's cold reception by digging his hands into the side pockets of his jeans. Maneuvering slowly up the grey, dew stained pavement, James resumed his walk across campus. He had managed to leave the crowded parking lot far behind when some unknown force told him to look up, feeling the weight of another's eyes upon him.

There she was, standing at a distance, surrounded by a gaggle of chatting girls. The wind wisped her dark auburn brown locks about her collarbone, her golden irises catching his own for a split second before they darted down, meekly appraising the blades of grass sprouting beneath her gladiator styled sandals.

And instead of taking the opportunity to speak with her, James walked right on by as if nothing was out of place. His heartbeat however, gave him away, hammering within his ribcage until he proceeded under the dull, taupe entryway of East hall, certain that her mesmerizing gaze could no longer pierce his translucent countenance.

Inside, he casually brushed past fellow classmates, the majority a sea of unrecognizable faces. The metallic slam of lockers being shut, the click of a brigade of shoes scuffling about the tiled floor mixed fluidly with the simultaneous activities occurring within the swarming hallway. A loud, squawking voice could be heard above the commotion, emitting from a rotund man grasping a pronounced white hand-held microphone.

"Move along people, yes just like cattle! We don't have all day ladies; you can re-apply your faces during snack period. No butts about it Miss Johnson, I don't want to report you. Ah and Tim, quit trying to trip Mr. DeAndrews, yeah that's right- I can see you! And Donny, this has to be the twentieth time I've told you not to spit in the-"

"Heya Mr. G!" James waved, harnessing the large man's attention while allowing Donny to melt away in the crowd, escaping a harsh scolding and the potential fate of winding up in detention for the third time this April.

"Ah James, nice to see you again kiddo!"

"Yeah, you too. Livin' the life, ain't you?" The brunette chuckled, pacing himself a few steps behind the beefy man motioning for students to get to class,

"Ha hah, right!" He murmured sarcastically, "Monitoring hallways is what I live for, it's the reason why I worked so hard to earn my PHD." James slapped him on the back for encouragement, pushing away by cracking open the door to his first period class,

"Take it easy Gustavo."

"You know I will," He beamed, meandering through the hall still teeming with life, "Oh, tell Principle Griffin in the office that I say hello when Mrs. Harding gives you a tardy slip!"

Upon closing the door behind him, James entered English class 325. Conversation stilled and switched to the topic of the ever so prompt individual slinking across the front of the room, sliding skillfully behind the teacher's back without her glancing up from writing the day's lesson on the white board.

"You…are…late." Mrs. Harding stated, a withered hand scrawling with a red marker in ancient and illegible cursive as James calmly slunk into his chair, spouting off quite confidently,

"Yes, yes I am."

Folded hands landed on square hips, the crotchety woman poising herself to berate the lazy pupil until she decided against it, shaking her graying curls in disappointment,

"Well, now that you've graced us all with your presence Mr. Diamond, we'll resume the daily announcements. Sam, turn it on please."

With the probing of a button, the old VCR player ate up the black rectangle. A cheesy melody churned out of the overly loud amps hooked up to the computer system stationed below the hanging television set, opening Maplewood's prized news casting team. The static of the monitor soon flourished into life as the image of two girls appeared on screen, the chiming voice of a young freshman awakening drowsy students at their desks,

"Good morning Maplewood! I'm Katie Knight with my co-host Mary Sutherland and we'll be bringing you the daily report. Take it away Mary."

James decidedly lost interest as soon as the freckled teen with the braid began to speak, more interested in absently doodling on his notebook cover than pay attention to news about tryouts for sports teams and local bake sales. However, his pencil claimed freedom the moment the pretty brunette began to speak, the lead encased in wood coming to a stop as hazel brown eyes trailed up to watch the petite girl cheerfully bantering to her co-host on the frequency induced screen.

"Something interesting you, eh James?" His pencil dropped, startled by the greasy kid slouching in the chair behind him.

"Um, uh…no, I was just watching the news." James stuttered, eyes forward and intently paying attention to Mary discussing the anticipated arrival of Korean exchange students.

"Yeah sure. Whatever you say." The thin, dark haired man smirked, reclining in his disproportionate chair, "You just better not be droolin' over my sweet little sister."

"What do you mean by that?" James twisted around slightly in his desk to face his misanthropic colleague. Before he could understand what the familiar slime ball was indicating, his attention yet again was ripped back towards the TV with the mention of his name uttered by none other than Katie Knight.

"And before we leave, we'd also like to congratulate our school's most prominent actor, James Diamond, for his accomplishments at the Minnesotan Reparatory Company's annual tournament. Good work James. Be sure to shake his and offer some applause if you see him today."

His head swelled for multiple reasons but mainly because he thought he saw the trace of a rosy sheen alighting her cheeks; feeling as though her eyes were staring straight into his soul through the technological barrier. Yet for all he knew, it could have been the cheap illumination setup used to stage the entire make-shift news production. And as soon as it began, she was already signing off the air.

"James, I knew you could do it!" Camille whispered a few seats away before shooting him an exaggerated thumbs up. He nodded to her, his lips pursed together; nodding his thanks wordlessly towards his friend before resuming his all-so-important task of defacing William Butler Yeats profile pasted along the parchment containing The Isle of Statues and The Tower, epic poetry of such power and visage which of course, was lost upon the ignorant youth.

"Yo, what's up with our leading man?" Kendall grinned, slapping the open-palm offered by James upon his arrival to the miniscule stage provided for theater productions. The arts were not as venerated as were the athletic feats of football, basketball and ice hockey, yet the thespian ensemble was growing per semester and gaining support even from the local community who had begun to cheer on the acting classes almost as vividly as they showed interest in the better funded programs.

"Ah cut it out Kendall, you know I couldn't have done it without everyone playing their role." James slid a hand through his bangs, shoving them out of his sight as he walked with his buddy across the polished wood flooring of the stage,

"It's not like I was that impressive. Besides, Kelly says the judges gave me some pretty harsh critiques so I still have a long way to go."

Kendall chanced to sneak a peek at his friend's suddenly downcast expression. Suddenly James's head perked up and tilted sideways as a friendly arm wrapped about his shoulders,

"Well, either way dude, you rocked your roll, everyone in school thinks so! I just came by before practice to give you some lovin'."

"Thanks K-dawg." His frown dissipated, replaced by one of his trademark smiles, "Taking the time to miss suiting up for hockey sure shows you care."

"That's what friends are for, aren't they buddy? Plus, missing sweating guys change has its benefits too." Kendall winked, breaking their bromantic embrace before things got too personal, "So are you still coming by the house for dinner? I know Carlos gets out of basketball around 6:30."

"Yeah, I'll be there." James nodded, setting his backpack down on a plush auditorium seat.

"Catch ya later then, I'm off to second period!" Kendall announced, shooting up the long carpeted aisle and bursting out the backdoors, already five minutes late for his own extracurricular ambition.

James sighed, stepping back up to the hallowed ground, the stage set before the world for all to see. Or…it would be a stage for the world to see if anyone could.

"Hey Ben, get the lights!"

"Coming!" The boy up in the black box at the back of the theater called down through the speaker attached to the stereo system, pushing meticulously on brightly colored switches before a flash of light left James blinded.

"How's that?"

"Wow, that's bright. Ben, turn it down."

"Ben's not here today."

"What," James called, peering through the bleached wave of light, "Then who is it?"

"Logan."

"Oh…well," James found himself caught aback but swallowed his discomfort with that fact, "Do you even know how to work the lights?"

"Yeah, of-of course I do!" Somehow, the skinny boy's answer did not assure James of his skills in the slightest.

"Okay, well, could you turn it down a bit?" He squinted, using the flat of his hand to block the obtrusive artificial flare of the bulbs.

"Yeah, yeah, sure!" Suddenly the lights flashed off until slowly forming a subtle tone of murky yellow.

"A little brighter." And then they were shot back up again to the far outer rings of Saturn before quickly jumping back down somewhere in the middle, still almost shockingly white.

"Is that good?" Logan called worriedly from the sound and lighting board, his voice muffled over the loud speaker.

"Perfect, just perfect."

Next period left a space for James to calm down from the trial during theater class today. As James strolled into the computer lab for his third period Algebra II course, James could have sworn that he deserved a medal for how he kept his patience with that awkward and socially challenged kid!

Shrugging off his annoyance, he headed over to the quadrant near the back of the room where Carlos and Kendall were situated at,

"Hey, what've you got for me boys?"

"Only wait a couple more minutes, boss." The Latino grinned, his eyes crinkling with a mischievous light, passing a quick high-five to the beanie wearing blonde still sweating from his second period hockey practice.

"Good work. I'll be right back." With that he sauntered off towards the professor governing today's lab, none other than Mr. Gustavo Rocque or familiarly known as Mr. G by the vast student body, both a Math teacher and frequent snack decomposer.

"Anything new since this morning?"

"Ah, you know, same old, same old. Once you've been teaching high school as long as I have, nothing will surprise you. Wait just a sec-Carlos!"

The individual in question looked up like a deer caught in the headlights, a guilty expression written all over his face.

"How many times have I told you not to touch other computers than your own?"

"Uh…more than I can count?" He offered meekly, a remark which caused the larger man to relinquish a sigh,

"And that's why you are basically failing my course." The harsh comment deflated the already convicted criminal's ego, damaging it further the moment Carlos's sensitive ears picked up the hushed giggles directed at his misconduct.

"I want you to visit Griffin for a few minutes, maybe it'll clear your head."

"What? But Mr. G-" The tan boy complained, his argument rudely cut off by Mr. Rocque's sarcastic reply,

"Now don't you 'Mr. G' me! I've already given you three warnings today, now scoot!"

Hanging his head in defeat, Carlos passed a cd to his accomplice before exiting the room, motioning for Kendall to insert the disk before being scolded yet again by the typically jovial instructor.

"Now that that has been taken care of, we'll get back to business." A pudgy finger gripped the rim of his black glasses as Mr. Rocque made himself more comfortable in his chair, prying them off his bearded face,

"Well now James, maybe I'm not as super cool as I used to be, but I think I can tell when a young man has a lot on his mind."

"No, I'm fine." James swallowed, his happy-go-lucky demeanor slipping with the kindly yet inquisitive scope of his teacher's ability to discern inaudible emotion,

"You're fine?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"I guess you look fine." Gustavo conceded with a gruff cough before wiping smudged lenses on his shirt,

"But you might want to get a haircut." The pair laughed before the portly teacher once again resumed their low-spoken conversation,

"You sure you're fine?" James met his teacher's gaze before glancing off to the side, momentarily checking to see if Kendall was staying on task before returning to the topic,

"No…I, well…it's stupid."

"I'm a high school teacher, I know stupid. Try me."

"I don't know, I just, uh…I've been thinking a lot about my future lately. And I just don't know if this road I'm on is exactly what I want any more, you know?"

"Yeah, I think I do. By any chance, would this road concern, I don't know…women?"

He guessed it! James flushed, surveying the room quickly before nodding.

"Well, is there anything wrong with this road?"

"I-I don't know, I guess…I just don't think the road I want, is-available."

"Well, if it's not available, the choice is pretty easy." Gustavo urged, waiting to see his student's reaction.

"Yeah," James sighed, loose bangs hanging down with the weight of his depressed head, "I told you it was pretty stupid."

"Well c'mon James, I knew it'd be stupid…it's you after all." He joked, patting the boy on the shoulder. And instead of removing his heavy hand, he instead left the meaty palm on the boy's shoulder, joking cast aside,

"But you know James, any road can be repaired if you try hard enough. And if you…if you really care for this girl, I think…and this is just my opinion…well, I think that you should go for her."

"Really, you mean it?"

"Yeah, really." Gustavo sagely nodded, tucking the rims of his glasses back over his ears," You have a long life in head of you. And in this life, I've learned that when you find something that matters, you ought to fight for it."

"And they say you're just a math teacher." James shook his head while stifling a laugh, allowing the older man to lean back into his swivel chair.

"I'll tell you a secret. I don't even like math."

"What?" James asked incredulously.

"Nope. I hate it. Don't tell anybody." And his tiny eyes shielded by those square glasses were twinkling with mirth and James could not help but to join in with it,

"I won't."

Gustavo sifted his weight in the uncomfortable chair, about to refocus on the task he left alone while preoccupied with the deep conversation held between himself and his young mentee. Clicking on a link, successfully propelling a detailed slideshow discussing the intermolecular structure of mathematical pie charts upon the blank overhead, the faint chirping of an alarm resounded until the repetitive warning blared into a full scale siren.