A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I don't plan on this story being as long as some of my other ones, but believe me when I say things are just getting started. I appreciate all your support and encouragement as I write!

Warnings: Angst

Chapter 2

"Family of James Diamond?"

Carlos stood so fast that the magazine he'd been paging through toppled off his lap and onto the floor. Everyone else rose as well.

"That's us," Mrs. Knight said. "How is he?"

The nurse gestured to the anxious mother, silently asking her to step into the hall. Mrs. Knight peered down uncertainly at Katie, but when Kendall slid an arm around his sister's shoulder Mrs. Knight followed the woman.

Carlos held his breath as the nurse led Kendall's mom out of earshot. He studied the way their mouths moved, hoping to catch a word or two. Mostly the nurse glanced at her clipboard, and Mrs. Knight nodded while wringing her hands together. She was fraught with worry, and the sight of such a strong woman being frightened made Carlos turn away.

Beside him, Logan scratched at his head and began to pace the waiting room floor for the millionth time since arriving at the hospital. Carlos was pretty sure he was going to wear down the floor tiles if he continued.

Kendall must have noticed too. "Logan, chill," he said, pulling Katie a little closer to his side. "It's James. He's going to be fine."

"Don't tell me to chill," Logan snapped. He spun around and tossed up an arm. "Our best friend was attacked and left to die next to a dumpster and you're telling me to chill?"

"The doctor said we found him right away, remember? So there's a good chance—"

"No, Kendall, I don't think you understand. Do you realize his odds for survival are—"

"Don't." Kendall's eyes darkened, and they flicked down to Katie. "I don't care what your textbooks say about this. It's James, and he's going to be fine."

Logan held Kendall in a staring match so intense that everything around them seemed to melt away. Carlos's heartbeat quickened under the shroud of tension. The heavy thumps were the only proof of his existence.

Logan looked as though he wanted to argue, but Katie shifted uneasily on her feet. Kendall's glower stayed locked on Logan until Logan's eyes shifted to Katie. Then he understood. "Fine. Yeah. Whatever." With a heavy sigh he slumped into the nearest chair and was still.

Carlos shivered, unnerved by all the nonverbal communication. Words he couldn't read hung in the air.

His throat tightened and some stupid tears decided now would be a great time to spring into his eyes. He wanted to talk; wanted to ask Kendall what had happened with James, wanted to know just how bad James was hurt—but the last thing he wanted was to start a fight, especially with Kendall silently reminding everyone of his baby sister's presence. Carlos hated not knowing things. He hated being stuck between 'should he' and 'shouldn't he', and the atmosphere certainly wasn't helping. The air was heavy and significantly lacking in oxygen. Nervous sweat made his t-shirt cling to his chest and back. Couldn't someone just tell him so he wouldn't have to see Kendall's eyes darken until they looked like two inky holes in his head?

He remembered the cab ride to the hospital. The driver had stared strangely at Kendall, undoubtedly noticing the bloodstains on his shirt. Once in the backseat, something went wrong with Logan and he began breathing so hard the cab driver asked if he should pull over. Probably to convince the man the boys hadn't committed a murder, Kendall calmly offered an explanation.

Every story had a long version and a short version, and Carlos knew Kendall had given the driver the latter.

According to Kendall's quick account of the harrowing events, Kendall had somehow discovered James behind the Palm Woods building, propped against some dumpsters with blood gushing down the side of his head. Kendall had used his cell phone to call an ambulance. For the several terrifying minutes it took for the paramedics to arrive, Kendall held his unconscious friend, shirt acting like a sponge for James's blood.

Thankfully, Carlos had worn a sweatshirt today and let Kendall borrow it so he didn't have to change into ugly hospital clothes. Kendall had tossed his soiled shirt in the trash, then retreated to the bathroom and didn't come out for a long time. When he returned he seemed cleaner and brighter, and although his eyes chattered endlessly about fear and anger and blood, no one else noticed because he took his sister in his lap and distracted everyone from his eyes with a feigned smile.

Katie looked up at Kendall as Mrs. Knight finished speaking to the nurse in the hall. "Do you really think James will be okay?" she asked him.

Kendall didn't hesitate. "Yeah, of course." Then he added, "It couldn't have been that bad, right?"

Logan shifted a little in his chair.

Mrs. Knight returned to the waiting room with the nurse, whose ID badge said her name was Marisa.

"James is stable now," Marisa informed. "I can let all of you see him, but since this is such a large party I'd like only a few of you in the room at a time, okay?"

"Me first!" Carlos cried. He shot his hand in the air like he was waiting to be called on at school. "Can I see him, Mrs. Knight? Please?"

"Absolutely. Kendall, Logan, why don't you go too? Katie and I will see him when you're done."

"Aw, come on," Katie protested. "I'm small. I wouldn't take up that much space."

"We'll try to be quick," Kendall promised, placing his hand on her shoulder. Katie gave a tight smile before Kendall left to follow Marisa, Carlos and Logan in tow. The three walked as quickly as they could without passing the nurse as she led them down a short white hall and through some double doors. Carlos inwardly cursed at the woman for walking so slow. His muscles tingled with anticipation, and the only way to alleviate the restlessness was to move, move, move.

Finally, after the slowest walk in the entire world, Marisa halted outside a room and gestured for the boys to enter. "I need to check on some other patients," she said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Kendall was already in the room before the woman could turn to leave. Carlos was quick to follow. His mind whirled so fast he feared his brain would ooze out his ears. He desperately wished for the security of his helmet, but it lay forgotten at home.

Logan and Kendall froze at the side of James's bed, blocking Carlos's view of his injured friend. Scowling, he parted his way between them so he could ask James what had happened.

James's eyes were closed.

He was asleep and Carlos was awake, except Carlos was the one trapped in a nightmare. No way. There was no way this was James. Kendall had said James was hit on the head—a concussion, right? Carlos had had plenty of those before. Heck, he even had a metal plate somewhere on his skull. And the blood, the blood on Kendall's shirt—that was because wounds on the head and face bled more profusely compared to most other areas on the body. Logan had told him that once, and Logan knew, like, everything.

So why did James look like this?

There were so many tubes and wires and machines attached to James's body or poking out of him in some way that Carlos questioned the humanity of it all. His breath hitched in his throat as he examined with terrified eyes the white bandage wrapped around James's head. But James wouldn't like that. Someone couldn't just cover James's hair without asking. He'd be furious.

Carlos's gaze traveled lower, to the thick tube sticking out of James's mouth. What was that? Could he even breathe? It made him look like he was transforming into one of the machines that sat beside the bed.

"Logan," Carlos gasped, nearly choking on the word. "What is that? What's in his mouth?"

Logan's voice was quiet—the natural hushed tone used when beside a sleeping person. He lightly cleared his throat, but when he spoke his words still sounded rough. "It's a ventilator. It helps him breathe."

"But it was just a concussion, right? Just a concussion?"

Kendall's hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed.

Carlos scanned every inch of James's body, searching for more injuries. Besides the ventilator, the IVs, the wires poking out from under his gown, and the weird clamp on his index finger, James didn't appear much different physically—no casts or braces, no swelled or purpled skin, no scrapes or cuts. Just that stupid bandage.

James was only sleeping. Carlos shared a room with James; he knew how his friend appeared when he was dreaming.

He laughed shakily and reached over to grab James's shoulder. He shook it gently. "Hey, James, wake up."

"Carlos…" Logan shot a quick glance at Kendall. There was a caution in his voice that Carlos tried to ignore.

"Come on," he urged when James didn't stir. His fingers dug harder into James's flesh, barely protected by the thin fabric of the gown. "Seriously, dude. Get up."

"Carlos, he can't," Logan whispered.

"Why can't he? Why can't he wake up?" An edge of panic cut into his voice. Suddenly he was breathing the way Logan had in the cab, and his vision was severely blurred around the edges. "He always wakes up if I shake his shoulder—like when we sleep through our alarm and we're gonna be late to the studio and you and Kendall don't wake us up, I always just grab his shoulder, just like this, and… and he…"

"He's in a coma," Kendall said, gently.

"You know what that is, right?" Logan asked.

Carlos swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Well, yeah, but…"

"Only James can wake himself up," explained Logan. "No one else."

He whimpered in fear. "What do you mean? Does that mean he doesn't want to?" Carlos spun back to James, grabbing his shoulders once more. "James, don't you want to wake up?" A sob tore from his throat.

"No, no, listen." Logan pulled Carlos back and forced him to turn. By this time Carlos felt something wet on his face, but he couldn't lift his arm to wipe it dry. His brain was too busy, his limbs were too heavy. James's machines were beeping and buzzing and Logan was saying something he couldn't hear and why couldn't James just wake up?

"Carlos, hey. Listen." Logan clutched his shoulder tightly to get his attention. Carlos snapped into focus. He sucked in a couple breaths before reluctantly meeting Logan's silent eyes. "You said you know what a coma is, right? It's like a deep sleep. James is unconscious. No one can just shake his shoulder and wake him up. His body has to figure it out on his own."

Carlos sniffled. "Then how are we supposed to help him?"

Kendall stepped forward as Logan's hand finally dropped. "We'll come visit him," he assured, lifting his chin in a way that exuded confidence. "Every day. We'll let him know we're here."

Carlos inhaled deeply, attempting to calm himself. He slowly rotated around to stare at James, who was deathly still. "Can he hear us?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Logan. "Maybe. It's a nice thought, right?"

Carlos shook his head, vision clouding once more. "I don't think he can."

"Why do you say that?" asked Kendall.

"Because, if he could hear us he would have woken up by now." Carlos looked away, deciding he didn't want to stare at James's closed eyes anymore. When he left the room, no one followed.

When Carlos made it back to the waiting room he saw Mrs. Knight and Katie speaking with two men. One was a police officer, dressed in a sharp blue uniform, and the other wore a suit and tie. The man was familiar; short, a little portly, aged fifty or so, with a severely receding hairline. Although he had laugh lines on his face, Carlos knew the man was serious about his job.

"Police Chief Stevens?" Carlos questioned. Stevens and the officer turned as Carlos approached them. "What are you doing here?"

He hadn't ever met the man before, but he'd seen pictures and interviews on the news. Logan and Camille had apparently had an encounter with Stevens once—something about stolen money, dumpsters, and Russian spies… He hadn't really paid attention to the story.

Stevens stuck out his hand. "Carlos Garcia?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking it. "What's going on?" Carlos didn't think he'd done anything wrong, and the guys would have told him if they'd done something illegal.

"We're investigating the assault on James Diamond. I got a call from one of my guys who went to the Palm Woods to check out security footage, but since the east side of the building only has an emergency door the manager never installed cameras. We don't have a visual on—"

"Wait, hold up," Carlos interrupted, crinkling his brow together. "You said assault, right? So you mean, like, someone did this to him?"

It hadn't crossed his mind that James's injuries weren't accidental. Logan had said that James was attacked and left to die, but that could mean anything, right?

Well, maybe not. But still.

Logan was a pessimist—surely he was just speculating on what happened to James. There was no bad guy on the loose. James had just fallen and hit his head. Yeah. Stupid Logan. Stupid Police Chief Stevens. Besides, who would want to hurt James? He was likeable.

…Most of the time.

"It looks like it," Stevens said, sympathy lacing his words.

"We'd like to ask you some questions about today, if that's alright," the other officer told Carlos.

He sighed and scratched nervously at his head, suddenly a little sick to his stomach. "Yeah, okay." He legs began to tremble. "Can we please sit down?"

Stevens and the officer, who produced a notepad and pen in his hand, took seats across from Carlos. Mrs. Knight sat beside him and placed a hand on his knee, while Katie stayed standing. She glanced anxiously into the hall where Kendall and Logan still remained.

Stevens leaned forward, expression unreadable and professional. "Carlos, was James supposed to meet anyone today?"

He thought back to earlier. "Just a date for lunch."

"With who?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. Some girl he just met. He said she was a model."

"He didn't tell me about this," Mrs. Knight said.

Carlos shrugged. "He just told me this morning. He didn't tell anyone else. I think he was too busy trying to make his hair look good. Oh, and his shirt. Did you know you're supposed to leave two buttons undone if you're dating a model? And you're not supposed to go to movie theaters because—"

"Carlos, did James say anything about how they met?" questioned Stevens.

He paused and racked his brain. "Um, I think she sent him a letter. Like, fan mail. But girls send James fan mail all the time, and a lot of girls ask to date him. Sometimes he gets marriage proposals. It's weird. One time a guy even—"

"Did he say anything else about this girl?" Stevens pressed impatiently. "Her name? Where they were going to lunch? Where she lived? What she modeled?"

Carlos had no idea. He told the officers everything he knew, which wasn't much. They repeated a lot of their questions, which made him frustrated and irritable. He wanted to go home. He told and retold his account of the morning events, from waking to James's stupid hairspray, helping Camille run lines, walking to the toy store, and going back to the apartment when she told him something bad had happened.

The officer kept scribbling on his notepad. He hardly even glanced up. Carlos tried to see what the man was writing, but was unsuccessful. When Stevens deemed all information had been pried from Carlos, he told Mrs. Knight he'd like to speak with Kendall. As if on cue, the blond was already returning from James's room, Logan at his side.

Carlos zoned out in boredom while the officers introduced themselves to Logan and Kendall. This was pointless. James could tell the officers all about the attacker once he came to.

"Kendall, could you please tell us how you found James?"

Carlos perked up. He sat at attention and looked immediately to Kendall's eyes. The emerald irises glittered brightly like a lit spark, but never became a flame. For the first time in a long time, the expression on Kendall's face matched the look in his eyes. Mrs. Knight noticed and grabbed his hand.

The comforting action of his mother triggered Kendall's lies. Her one motion seemed to transform Kendall into an entirely different person. It was upsetting to Carlos when he realized the new, lying Kendall was the same Kendall he'd known all his life. Kendall's eyes were honest, even when his body or his words were not. He plastered a brave mask on his face, like usual, leaving no trace of his sudden spell of emotion. Or so he thought. Some evidence couldn't be hidden, no matter how hard Kendall tried.

After all, masks couldn't cover a person's eyes.

In that short moment before Mrs. Knight had grabbed her son's hand, a flicker of the real Kendall had shown through. His eyes matched his expression, his movements, his body. He was himself, wholly and truly, holding nothing back.

It occurred to Carlos that the real Kendall wasn't the person he had grown up with. In fact, Carlos wasn't sure he'd ever met him.

"Me and Logan were at the pool," Kendall said. "Carlos went somewhere with Camille, and about an hour earlier James had left the apartment. I didn't think anything of it. We always come and go, you know? I figured he was around."

He spoke like nothing was wrong. His body went rigid, his voice was quiet but even. He was the epitome of control, and nothing could ever make him break. He even offered Stevens and the officer a taut smile, which cleared away the remaining shadows lurking on his face.

Carlos listened intently to Kendall's story, awed more by the way he spoke rather than what was being said.

Katie suddenly nudged her mom's arm. "Can we go see James now?"

"In a minute, sweetie. I want to be by the guys while they're interviewed."

Carlos wasn't sure if Katie really was aching to see her comatose friend, or if she just didn't want to hear her brother's story. Thankfully, the crisis was averted when Logan offered to take her instead. Carlos could have caught up to them if he wanted, but he was engrossed by Kendall's story. He needed to hear everything.

"Please continue," Stevens told Kendall.

Kendall, of course, was unfazed by the interruption, though his gaze did linger a bit on his sister as she walked away with Logan. He sighed lightly. "Right. Anyway, it was about one o'clock. Like I said, me and Logan were at the pool. We weren't in the water, just chilling on the loungers. My phone rang. It was James. I said hey, but he didn't say anything back. I waited a few seconds, didn't hear anything, then hung up."

The recurring chill that kept battering Carlos's body struck again. He shivered, wishing he had his sweatshirt.

"I called him back and he didn't answer," continued Kendall. "That's not weird, right? I mean, he could have just pocket-dialed me, or hit the wrong button on his phone or something. It didn't mean anything." He tensed. "I don't know why I went to look for him. I was kinda bored, I guess, looking for something to do. I told Logan I'd catch up with him later, then checked the crib, the lobby, the park. Then I went around the parking lot, hoping I'd see him. And for some reason, I don't know why, I just… I went down the back alley. And when I did, I saw him right away."

A pause. His expression was unreadable.

"Honey?" said Mrs. Knight.

Kendall blinked. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry. Um, Stevens, could I please tell you the rest of the story privately?"

"What? Why?" The words burst out of Carlos's mouth before his brain had a chance to tell his mouth to keep quiet. All eyes flew to him, and he shrunk back under the scrutiny. "Um," he offered sheepishly, "I wanna know what happened, too."

Kendall heaved a sigh and rubbed at his neck. "Later, okay?" He didn't even look at Carlos as the officers led him farther down the hall, out of earshot to everyone else.

Carlos turned to Mrs. Knight, frowning indignantly. "How come we can't hear the story?"

She caught him in an unexpected hug. He stiffened.

"Just give him a little time."

"Time for what?"

Mrs. Knight pulled back and took him by the shoulders. She looked him up and down, expression one of sympathy. Carlos tried to understand her eyes, but they didn't speak.

"Kendall's been through a lot today," she said, softly. "I'm sure it's hard for him to talk about it."

"Then he should tell us all at once. That way he won't have to repeat it." Carlos stomped his foot in frustration. "No one will tell me anything! I just want to know what happened to James. He was on a date, I know that, and then Kendall found him and he was hurt because someone hit him, but who would want to hit him? I mean why… why would someone do that, why would someone hurt James? And Logan says he can't wake up unless his body says so, and we can't even help because he can't hear us because he's asleep and—and…" His voice caught in his throat. "Mrs. Knight, why won't he wake up?"

Then Mrs. Knight was hugging him again, and Carlos realized his face was wet and his shoulders were quivering. There was a horrible feeling in his stomach, like someone had reached inside him and turned his guts inside out. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the crib and crawl into bed. In the morning he'd wake to a hissing hairspray can and he wouldn't complain, not even a little bit.

Carlos remained in Mrs. Knight's embrace for quite some time. He finally peeked over her shoulder and saw the officers finishing their interview with Kendall. Carlos quickly wiggled out of Mrs. Knight's arms when Kendall began walking over. He didn't want the guys to think he was a baby or anything.

Carlos cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping to appear as casual as possible. Mrs. Knight smirked lightly and fished a tissue out of her purse so he could wipe his eyes. Carlos turned around, dabbed the tears off his face, then tossed the tissue somewhere aside.

"What now?" Kendall asked as he approached. The officers remained in the hall, talking quietly to each other.

Mrs. Knight sighed and plopped into the nearest seat. "I guess we wait."

Carlos stands in a dark room.

Or, at least, he thinks it's a room. His surroundings are inky black, so devoid of light that he cannot distinguish anything tangible. There may be walls surrounding him, or there may be an open space stretching endlessly.

Either way, it's black.

He furrows his brow, wondering where he is. A dream, he knows, but why would his subconscious conjure this strange place?

He tilts his head up, searching for stars. There is nothing but the same never-ending obsidian, darker than night.

"Carlos?"

His heart lurches in his chest, startled by the familiar voice. Carlos whips around, expecting to be met with the same span of emptiness that occupies his other sides.

Instead, he sees James.

James is clearly visible; normal and bright. Not one shadow darkens his face. He stands in the same clothes he wore this morning—his red shirt with two buttons undone and a pair of jeans that cost more money than Carlos knows what to do with. There is no bandage on his head.

Carlos takes a step backward, mouth open but failing to produce a word. He can feel the step, the hardness beneath the soles of his shoes, and knows he's on solid ground. The air is cool and a little damp, and it's real, so real, somehow more than just a dream.

James smiles—the brightest feature on his body. "Hey."

When Carlos woke, he sucked in such a massive amount of air in such a short gasp that he erupted into a spell of coughs. He doubled over in the chair he'd been slouching in, fingers gripping the armrest so tightly that his knuckles went white. His heart hammered wildly against his chest; quick, rattling thumps that made him fear it would pop right out of his chest.

Logan reached over and gave his back a couple slaps. "Whoa. You okay, dude?"

Carlos nodded around his coughs. His eyes watered from the strain.

It took him a moment to remember his location. White. He saw white. White floors, white walls, white ceiling. Then the memories came crashing back. He was at the hospital, in the waiting room, Logan by his side and Mrs. Knight, Kendall and Katie seated across from him. He recalled nodding off, exhausted because of his restless night of imagining monsters from the scary movies he'd watched, and upset that the day had brought them to life. Stevens and the officer had left an hour ago after questioning Logan and making the members of Big Time Rush promise to be available for more interviews until the case was solved. Everyone had moved into the waiting room, hoping for some good news regarding James's condition. So far it was unchanging.

Carlos finally ceased his hacking. He sat on the edge of his seat and took a few deep breaths. Across from him, Mrs. Knight shot him a look of concern.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just… Um, just a…"

Just a what? What he'd experienced felt so real, so lifelike, that to call it a dream seemed inaccurate.

Carlos looked down at his arms. His flesh was still pricked with goose bumps from the chilly air of the black realm where he'd seen James.

James.

His friend had been right there in front of him—a clear, vivid image that still hung on the edge of his vision. He'd never experienced any dream like it, and for some reason, it frightened him.

"Just a what?" said Logan.

"Just a… really weird dream." He rubbed at his eyes, but was unable to shake away the memories of the dream. It was rooted in his mind.

"Well, hey," said Logan, slapping his back again. "It was just a dream, right?"

Exactly. Right. Logan had to be right. Of course Carlos would have a dream about James. He'd been thinking about James all day. It didn't mean anything else.

Carlos turned to Logan, nodding. "Yeah," he agreed. "Just a dream."