"Come on, James!" Logan Mitchell yelled in the general direction of his band mate and friend. "We're going to be late, and you've checked your hair for the Nth time!"

Moving faster than he knew he should, Logan unlocked the passenger door, yanked it open and tossed his backpack to the floor. Any other day and the top would have been down, but it was one of those rare California days that was overcast with a threat of rain. He sighed, waiting for his pretty friend to appear on the sidewalk of the parking lot. "James!" he shouted again, not seeing his friend. Another sigh, and he slammed the door shut with the intention of hunting his friend down and pulling the other teen away from whatever shiny surface he'd stopped to admire himself in or pretty girl he'd found to hit on along the way.

Stepping away from the car, he felt a tug and heard an odd ripping sound. He looked down at the car door to see what he'd caught in it that was keeping him from moving away. Horror filled him as he realized his pinky finger was shut in the door. Reacting, more than thinking, Logan quickly opened the door, freeing his trapped finger. Instinctively he curled his hand into a fist and cradled it against his chest. Pain he hadn't felt when he'd shut his finger in the door, filled his mind and his finger throbbed.

Looking up the path again, Logan spotted his friend finally making his way along to the car. "James!" he called out again. "We have to go, now," he said, settling himself behind the wheel of the car. He didn't bother the see if James was hurrying or not, as he slid the key into the ignition and starting the car.

"What happened?" his pretty friend asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Pretty sure I just broke my finger," he muttered, maneuvering the car from its parking spot one handed. Doing his best to ignore the pain in his throbbing digit, Logan steered the vehicle out of the parking lot on to the street. Their original destination forgotten as he headed for the nearest urgent care clinic he knew of.

"How'd you manage that?"

"Shut it in the freaking car door," he grunted, pain obvious in his voice.

Minutes that felt like hours later, Logan pulled the car into the clinic's parking lot. Shifting into park, he cut the engine. Glancing at his watch, Logan cursed. Still ten minutes until it opened. Emergency would be filling up and a broken finger was not life or death. He'd wait. Wordlessly, he slipped from the car and headed toward the small group of patients mulling around the door, hand clutched tightly to his chest.

The ten minutes went by faster and slower than time had ever moved for Logan Mitchell. The door was finally opened. The mulling patients filed in and nearly flooded the front desk. He waited at the end of the line for his turn. His turn at the window was brief and resulted in being handed a clipboard of paperwork to fill out and bring back.

"I got this, Logie," James said, startling him from his pain induced haze. "Excuse me," he said, smiling at the receptionist. "Would it be possible for my friend to get an ice pack?"

"Just a moment," she said, returning the smile.

A few minutes later, the paperwork had been filled out by James and returned to the front desk in exchange for an ice pack.

"Thank you," he said, gratefully taking the ice pack and wrapping his throbbing, swollen finger in the cold, plastic of the pack.

Slowly the throbbing dulled to a tight burn, as they waited for Logan to be called back.

Nearly ten minutes later he was finally called back to an exam room. Seating himself on the exam table, he waited for them to take his temperature and blood pressure before the questions of what happened began.

"All right, Mr. Mitchell," a middle aged, blonde woman said, stepping into the room. "Can you tell me what happened?" He quickly relayed the story, noting the way she responded to what he said. "Let's have a look." Snapping on a pair of gloves, she carefully helped him peel away the still cold ice pack revealing his hand still clutched in a fist. "Can you open your hand?"

"I think so," he said, willing his stiffened fingers to uncurl and lay flat in her gloved hand. Slowly, they obeyed his command. All five fingers lay straight, to his amazement, along the contours of her hand. Bits of dried blood clung to the nail bed of his pinky and the small cut along the cuticle. He sucked in a quick breath, not expecting his finger to look that bad or that good.

"Turn it over please," she requested, not looking up from his hand.

Quietly, Logan obeyed her request and flipped his hand palm up in her hands. He was again surprised. A small arching bruise ran along the top of the pad, and another small cut was already mostly sealed shut just under the bruise. Blood had run down his finger into his palm and along his ring finger. This time he noticed the swelling in his finger tip and how much pain there wasn't any more.

"Can you wash the blood off, so we can get a better look and make sure there aren't any cuts to your other finger?"

Logan moved over to the small sink in the counter along a wall. "I think so," he said, turning on the water and carefully placing his injured hand under the stream. Equally as careful he lathered soap over his pinky and ring fingers, washing away the dried blood. Rinsing away the bubbles from the soap, Logan was relieved to see that there weren't any cuts to his ring finger, and the cuts to his pinky didn't start bleeding. He also noted, seeing it for the first time, a small area beneath the nail where blood had pooled.

"So?" James' voice cut through Logan's wonder at seeing the lack of damage to his digit.

"It appears that the cuts aren't serious, but we will have to prescribe medicine to prevent infection. After we get some film of the finger, we'll see if we need to let the blood beneath the nail out by putting a small hole in your nail. It'll relieve pressure in there."

"Logan?" a soft female voice called from the door. Instinctively his head shot up to stare at the new voice. "Ready to come next door and get some pictures of that finger?"

With a terse nod and a slight smile, Logan followed the woman from the room.

The room was just large enough to house x-ray equipment. He was slightly impressed at how they had laid the room out to fit every, or just about, needed to take nearly any kind of x-ray.

"All right," the woman who'd led him in said, setting a foam block on the table before him. It looked like stair steps had been cut into the sides of it. "If you could please make a loose fist, but leave your pinky up," she instructed, cool fingers helping him to position his hand the way she needed for the x-ray. "All right, I'm going to over there for a moment, then we'll move your hand and take a couple more." She moved away to small protected area to push the button on the machine and take a film of his pinky. "What happened?" she asked innocently, just before a buzzing sound filled the room and she appeared from around a corner.

"Oh, I was in a hurry and frustrated, and shut my finger in the car door," he explained. She moved his hand to another position, removing the block for a small frame. Again, his hand was kept in a loose fist, pinky as far away from the rest of his hand as he could manage. "I'm actually feeling quite dumb right now."

She nodded, heading once again around the corner to her safe area. The room buzzed again before she spoke. "I've seen worse from less."

"Yeah, but I can't even figure out how I did it."

She again moved his hand. The position was close to uncomfortable, as she place his thumb against the plate turning his fisted hand so his pinky was on top. "Last one," she promised. A buzz and friendly smile later and they were done.

He was glad to be back in the exam room with a bored James. A dull throb in the hurt finger made him want to ask for a pain killer. He paced instead.

"You're going to wear a path," James said.

"Feels like there's already one worn," he countered.

"I sent Kendall and Carlos a text to let them know."

"Thanks."

"All right," the same woman who'd looked at his hand first said re-entering the room. Logan couldn't help think that 'all right' was an overused phrase in the place. It must be in the paperwork that they have to say it any time they want to deliver and kind of news or instruction. "It's broken. The good news is that it's clean break right along the tip. It should heal in a few weeks. No need for surgery or to set it. Because of the cuts to your finger, we're not going to drain that bleed under the nail. No need to add more chances for infection to get in there. I'm going to give you a splint to wear, but I'm going to treat the cuts and wrap some gauze around it for now. After that, they'll be back with prescriptions for anti-inflammatory medicine and antibiotics. We'll also give you a referral to a doctor specializing in hands and breaks, to make sure that it heals properly."

"Well all right," James chimed in, giving voice to Logan's irritation.

Quickly and carefully she applied a Neosporin type of cream to the cuts on both sides of this finger. gauze was folded and laid two different ways before tape was applied to hold it on to his finger. True to her word, another woman was at the door with paperwork in her hand before the tape had even been smoothed over skin and gauze.

James stood quickly, taking the paperwork and thanking the pretty girl. She smiled, wished Logan better and left. James scowled slightly at her retreating form.

"Good to go?" James asked, still staring after the woman he'd taken the paperwork from.

"Any questions or concerns?" the woman before Logan asked.

"No," he said, glad to be leaving and creating a to do list in his head. First stop was the nearest pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. After that it was back to where they were going before he pulled his dumbass card for the day...week...year? He hoped.

FIN

A/N: Yes, I really shut my pinky finger in the door of my car, no I did not notice or feel it until I opened the door. The latched too, so I had to pull on the handle and open the door. Now, have to say that the door of my car is light and has more pocket like areas to allow for minimal damage to my finger. If the door to the car on the series is anything like the Buick my mom loans me from time to time, it's going to be much heavier and would likely have done much more damage. The rest of the story is that I was trying to hurry my 8 year old up after getting my 3 year old in the car. But I broke my finger in the process. So, after I finally got her in the car, I took her to school then made the journey to my favorite ready care place for treatment. But like in the story I arrived early and had to wait for them to open and then for me turn. I did ice it much sooner than Logan did though. But I didn't have another adult with me when I went, just my 3 yr old. I was absent minded when this happened because my daughter was taking her sweet time and my father was in ICU at the time. It was just a really rough April. It's all healed now, and story makes people cringe. Yes, I was that calm. I don't panic, don't really know how.

Disclaimer: I do not own BTR.