Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush.

Warning: Contains cursing. (Italics = Flashback)

Twenty-five – Retroactive

If it was a miracle or not, Kendall's urges of pushing Logan off the building, shoving him out a window, or even beating him up senseless had gone by undone. Despite that, the toxic fumes of his internal engine of rage continued puffing out, coating his mind with a smoky, cold-hearted passion. At the same time, the last scrap of kindness he had for his fair-skinned friend shriveled into a trivial piece of nothing in his heart. On the other side of the hospital, James' was beating expeditiously; anxiousness gnawing at every vulnerable corner. He laid his head against the window, drew his knees up to his chest, and clutched his legs tightly.

Complete silence overwhelmed him; that type of silence that made one feel uncomfortable and insecure. He listened to it, attempting to scrutinize the different types of quietude. No screams. No loud conversations. No rubbing against the seats to get a comfortable position. No fighting. No laughter. He was cut short when he felt a cramp crawl up his thigh. James immediately stretched his legs out on the seat, but that didn't help. He suddenly felt too big; as if the car was contracting, attempting to choke him with that same wave of sinister tranquility. A bright ray of light hit him at the corner of his eye, making him wince. He squirmed out of it, and while he did so, a quick flashback ran past his eyes.

Kelly yelling into the phone. Carlos being transferred into the ambulance. The vehicle driving away. But no matter how tight he closed his eyes or blanked his mind, the vivid images were still fresh and painful in his mind. James could have been by the pool right now after practice, or tanning, having a date with a pretty girl, fixing his imperfections, doing something useful. Instead, he was confined in a car, mentally and physically, trying to alienate himself from the current situation. Gradually, he opened his eyes; despite his effort of calming down, he felt that little sting in his eye of an oncoming tear. In result, he kept eyes open to keep the tears from spilling. He needn't to cry. Crying wouldn't solve anything, much less what his best friend was going through right now. He had to suck it up, man up, and hope for the best—but hoping wouldn't help either.

Being optimistic was hard—at least, right now.

He'd never dealt with this kind of thing before. Broken ankles and wrists, bloody noses, black eyes, bruised cheeks, even broken hearts—those types of injuries were fine; they were typical between a foursome of crazy hockey head teens. But…seizures? In James' mind, that was far from typical. It was something that he imagined happened in soap operas. Seeing it on television was one thing; actually witnessing it was in another level. A level he had not been prepared for. But he was James Diamond wasn't he? Diamond—that invincible jewel that could withstand any kind of hardship. So that meant that he should be prepared for anything. He should be; shouldn't he? He couldn't think straight; too many thoughts were cluttering his head.

Being rational was hard, also.

Maybe that's how Logan felt when they were in a sticky situation. Like right now. Being a sensitive guy, James could picture Logan crying his heart out for Carlos at the moment, also hoping he was fine. Or, that sounded a bit over-dramatic.

Okay. So being optimistic and rational was hard. Add empathetic to the list.

Letting out a shaky breath, he turned his head and looked out the window. He spotted a girl walking towards a bright blue car. Judging from her gleaming eyes, somewhat built stature, and the red blush on her tanned cheeks, he figured she was between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. James drew his bottom lip in, staring at the girl as she opened the door of the car that lead to the driver's seat. He would have gotten out of the car at that instant and thrown some charming moves at the girl, but something tugged at his body and glued it to the seat, preventing him from moving. He kept his eyes on her, nevertheless; but the invisible force must have caught up because a spontaneous cold wind made his eyes flutter shut. Once the black took over, it formed into that same flashback of Carlos and the ambulance, and he felt the hot tears stream down his sweaty cheeks.

James gritted his teeth, let out a groan. "Stupid Carlos," he said, keeping his eyes closed as he pressed his palms to the sides of his head. "This is all so stupid."

His eyes shot open, and he looked out the window again. The same girl was still there. Only this time, her hand was resting on the car handle, face tilted upwards, looking up with a slightly agape mouth and narrowed eyes. Eyebrows furrowing, James pressed his face against the window, but the only interesting clue he got was a blue sky that was filled with sweet heat and a few clouds. A small triangle of birds flew by. After that, he saw nothing else. Just more blue and white. The girl only continued to stare. Her eyes suddenly went wide with—fright, awe, delight? James wasn't able to tell directly. Unable to smother the curious cat in him, he made a huge effort to open the door and carefully step out, fighting the ill force that was trying to pull him back in the car. He angled his chin upwards, struggling to avoid the sun's intense, glowing rays. Out of the blue, a huge, white banner appeared in the sky, waving a steady hello, a small blimp guiding its direction. In bold, gold letters, 'MARRY ME, JOANNE?' was printed neatly on the banner.

"Aww! Isn't that sweet?" said the girl, clapping her hands together as she smiled big.

Startled by her voice, it took James a while to recover. He stared, and answered, "I guess…"

The girl nodded happily, then got in her car, a minute later driving away. James continued staring up at the sky. He imagined if Kendall, Logan and Carlos were here, it would have been different. Logan would be saying it was too ostentatious; Carlos would be jumping, and shouting how cool it was; and Kendall would be shrugging, trying to hide that eager smile that evidently suggested he maybe would think of proposing to Jo like that when he was older, wiser, and, well, more creative—and not a giant hockey head who would probably give her a pop tab as a ring. In the end, James would be the one to point out a better way on how to propose—but this time all he could have done was watch, and agree or disagree. Knowing nothing else was going to happen, he pulled on the car handle and opened the door to the back seats.

ooo

"Did…did I hear right?"

"I am terribly sorry," said the doctor. "We will do our best to analyze the cause, but we can't be a hundred percent sure of the outcome when we do. In the mean time, I assigned the boy a prescription that can prevent the accident from happening again. Here…" He shoved his hand in one of the pockets of his lab coat, dug out a small piece of paper, and handed it to Mrs. Knight.

Mrs. Knight flashed her eyes down at the paper, attempting to read the scraggly handwriting on it. The only words she managed to identify were what appeared to be the name of the prescription. The rest was numbers, slash signs, and some other mumbo jumbo. She looked back at the doctor's face with an incredulous expression that meant 'Are you crazy? I'm not giving this to him'.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Knight," said the doctor quickly. "It's only to keep him healthy. I guarantee you it's ninety-nine percent safe." The mother's eyes widened slightly. "I mean–" He sighed, realizing every word that was coming out of his mouth was being said in the worst possible way. "I assure you they will not harm him. He will be fine. After a full six weeks, you will return to the hospital to report his behaviour. Among that time, the analysis will probably be finished and we will discuss it with you. Okay?"

Mrs. Knight was dazed. "Katie, hold my hand, please," she whispered. The girl obliged, clutching her mother's hand. Mrs. Knight nodded at the doctor. "Okay. I understand."

The doctor nodded in return. "Carlos can leave today. He is fine as long as he wears a helmet and he is taking the tablet every day. If ever he drops his head, loses his posture, or appears abnormally tired, make sure there is something behind him to catch him; a bed, a sofa, a chair—anything that can break a fall… Also, someone must be with him at all times. That is all." The doctor's brows furrowed. "And um, are you okay, Mrs. Knight? You look pale."

"I'm fine… Thank you for your information, doctor." She smiled wearily, and shook hands with him. She took one last look at the paper, frowning at it.

"So, um… Are we really going to join therapy?"

Mrs. Knight gave her daughter a tiny smile. "Family therapy, Katie. Trust me, we need it."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Right. Can't wait."

ooo

James woke up. It wasn't anything theatrical; just a traditional rise where he would open his eyes lazily and spend a good minute getting back to reality after he dozed from it. He had no clue what time it was, when they arrived home, or if he even was home. But the feeling under his fingers, that soft cushy feeling that only he could recognize from his bed let him know that, in fact, he was home—and in his room. He remembered falling asleep in the car, and wondered momentarily how he ended up on his bed, who put him there, or if he just subconsciously crawled onto it and pulled the covers over his chin. But then the thought left abruptly when he felt something physically bothering him. He dug his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, skin immediately pressing against the familiar plastic of the teeth of his lucky comb. Curling his fingers around it, he pulled it out carefully, only to come up with half of it.

James sat still, staring at the broken item in his hand. He searched his pocket again, recovering the other missing piece seconds later. Two broken halves. What use were they now? Nothing. He couldn't half-comb his hair and let the other side stand out in a frizzy mess. That would be just like…like being a dog with only two legs. Only left with a broken image. A broken personality. Broken perfection. Biting his lip, James rose from his bed, walked into the bathroom and flipped on the switch of the light. He saw the small trashcan by the sink, empty. His hold on the two broken pieces tightened, the jagged edges at the end sharp enough to cut through his skin and draw out a dribble of cardinal blood. Swiftly, he dumped them into the trashcan, let the sink water flow, and cleaned his hands, watching as the blood slipped from his fingers, washed away by the cold water. When he was done drying his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. No other person would notice, but James saw that his hair was infested with split ends. His mouth opened slightly, not knowing he'd been this careless. He ran his hands through it, soft and silky, let out a doleful sigh and opened the door.

James' heart nearly leaped out of his chest when he caught sight of Carlos sitting up on his bed. "C-Carlos… Sorry, did I wake you up, man?"

"What did you throw away?" asked Carlos softly, genuine curiousness on his weary face.

James bit his lip, hesitant to answer. "My…lucky comb. I broke it…by accident. I sat on it."

"Your lucky comb?" Obviously, he had no clue about the tall boy's priced possession, but James failed to see the puzzlement on Carlos' face.

"Yeah." James shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know. It's weird. I really don't feel upset." He chuckled. "I'll just get another comb. A better one." Walking back to his bed, he looked at the digital clock, eyes reading seven twenty-five. It was early. A time that was far from the one he had assumed. Carlos was quiet on his side. James drew in a breath, recognizing that unfriendly silence that had threatened him earlier in the car. His insides twisted into stiff knots, adding to his discomfort. He ran his hand through his hair for the second time, stopping when the tips of his fingers reached the split ends. Slowly, he let them graze down until he felt nothing. He looked at the clock again. Seven twenty-six. "So bored," he groaned. He buried his hands in his face.

All of a sudden, Carlos started to snicker faintly. James threw him a look that said, 'Why the hell are you laughing?' "Pues cómo no vas a estar aburrido, si todo lo que he pasado este mes es pura…" Carlos frowned.

James had forgotten to turn off the light in the bathroom, and so he could see Carlos' slightly shadowed face get heavy with creases on its forehead. The corners of his lips were tugging downwards, eyes blinking rapidly. James opened his mouth to speak, now marginally concerned, but the raven stopped him. "Never mind," he said hollowly.

James pursed his lips. Never mind. Carlos wasn't fooling him. Maybe he wasn't the only one feeling trapped.

He got an idea.

"Carlos. Wanna go out?" The small boy's eyes grew wide, and James immediately waved his hands, shaking his head. "No, no! I didn't mean it that way!" He didn't, but was more worried if that would cause Carlos' chilling yet sickeningly sweet attraction for him to make a reappearance. Gladly, it didn't. "I mean, outside. We could do something. It's summer and all we've done is sing and dance…except for you and Logan's trip to Canada."

Carlos flinched at the word, remembering that day Logan reluctantly confessed to him about being in a plane crash and going to Canada, but somehow ended up in another state. He was never told why and how. He could feel a lump form in his throat, but swallowed it before it could burst out in a loud sob.

James continued, "But other than that…we haven't done anything fun."

"I don't think I'm allowed to go outside," said Carlos.

"Of course you're not. That's why we're going to sneak out." James was about to go mad with this creepy quietude following him around everywhere. He needed an excuse to get out. He didn't need one, though; no one would object. Even so, the idea that maybe Mrs. Knight was in the living room burst James' some-hope-for-sanity bubble. How was he going to sneak Carlos out? Though before he could think of a plan, he needed an answer first. "So, you up for it?"

"Are you sure it's okay? I mean…" The raven's gaze dropped down to the covers of his bed, reminiscing about what had happened earlier in the day. Something he hoped not to go through ever again. He couldn't manipulate the unexpected, though. Practically everything was unexpected to him.

"We're just going to hang out, Carlos. Not like we're going bungee jumping or sky diving," assured James.

He smiled at Carlos, which the boy mimicked. Not quite a real smile yet; the corners of his lips were raised by a centimeter, giving off that he was still insecure about this innocent offer.

ooo

Sneaking out hadn't been very subtle as James had intended for. In his mind, the plan had been projected with a perfect amount of quickness and agility. Sadly, that wasn't the outcome that had occurred outside of his head. First, he had to make sure no one was in the living room. But oh joy, Kendall and Katie were on the couch watching television. He knew once Kendall saw Carlos he would most likely pull him back into his room. So James decided for Plan B: talk to the pair. Kendall gave him a grey look while Katie was too distracted watching the Discovery Channel when James plopped down on the couch and started talking about nonsense. And while he tried to speak louder than the people on the television, Carlos poked his head out the door of their room. When he got the signal, which was where James' voice rose as he threw his hands in the air and pointed out how cool was the axolotl in the new Discovery episode, Carlos exited the apartment without disturbing the surroundings.

Catching the movement from the corner of his eye, James emitted, "Well, I gotta go somewhere and do something, uh, important! See ya later!" Jumping from the couch, he ran for the door and closed it with an unintentional slam. Once in the hallway, he saw Carlos leaning tiredly against the wall. James pursed his lips, guilt slowly running up his spine. "Or…do you just want to go to sleep?"

Carlos' head jerked up. "N-no. I'm fine. Um, where are we going?"

James smiled wide. "I figured we could gets haircuts. I don't feel comfortable admitting it, but…I have split ends. And you, mi amigo, have serious shaggy hair. If you want Logan to keep liking you, you gotta keep a good image up, also."

Carlos' heart skipped a beat at the mentioning of the pale boy's name. "Whatever," he managed to rasp out.

"Also…we're going to have to go walking. 'Cause, you know…"

"We can't drive?" finished Carlos.

"Yeah…that."

"I don't mind." He really didn't. In the back of his conscious, Carlos thought he'd rather walk with this seemingly caring brunette than be stuck in bed with one who was head over freakin' heels for him.

ooo

He wanted to go in there and know—make absolutely sure—that he was okay. A doctor saying yes was not enough. Never enough. What was so bad about caring and loving for him? Kendall was wrong. There was nothing wrong with holding Carlos and whispering to him that he loved him, and maybe, just maybe, making love to him like he always wanted to. Hard love so he could show him that he was his, and–

"You're funny to mess with." It giggled.

Logan choked out a sob. "You're doing this," he whispered hoarsely. Quietly, he walked out of his room, and inched James and Carlos' room door open. It was dark, and no one was there. He could tell, evidently; the sounds of movement or breathing were absent from his ears. That meant that Carlos was absent. No. Not right now. Holding in his breath, he closed it and made his way to the front door.

"Logan, where are you going?" It was Mrs. Knight who questioned him.

"I need to go meet someone, Mrs. Knight," he answered casually. "It's urgent. For a summer math project." Kendall shot him a glare, but he ignored it. "Please."

Mrs. Knight dismissed him with an 'Alright, have fun' and a wave of approval. "Be home before ten."

"Don't count on it," It snorted.

Logan almost gulped as he closed the door. "You're going to stay here."

"Fucker. I know you're going to go look for that bitch. Let me tell you something. You two are like magnets. You can't stick together for the sake of your fucking, messed up life. But you and I are like hydrogen and oxygen to make sweet, everlasting water. Get what I'm saying, Logan?"

"No. No, I don't. And I don't care what you say because I'm going alone." He took a step forward, looked back. There was no one.

He felt a bit secure now as he pushed the front doors to the Palm Woods, and walked out. Nonetheless, when he saw a tall, white figure behind the building, it was as if someone had applied super glue on the concrete. His breath hitched, mind running with incessant fear. In the near darkness of the night, the figure wagged a finger at him, beckoning with a terrible smile. "Why do you keep coming back? Who are you?" cried Logan. Without his approval, his feet shuffled forward, obeying the moving finger.

"Come here… That's right. Just a little closer." It smiled as Logan backed himself up against a wall, cowering like a puppy under its harmful master. It inched its face close to Logan's, licking its bottom lip. "Who am I?" It hissed. "I should ask you the same. But, since you asked first I'm going to be polite for once." And then, the terrified boy heard a laugh. One that was childish, sweet, husky; it sounded exactly like Carlos'. "I'm your worst nightmare."

The brunette rubbed the fresh tears from his eyes. Carlos was looking at him with a cocky, malicious smile, rocking on his heels, back and forth. "What…?"

Carlos scowled. "You heard me, asshole. Now that you know, I'm going to give you a little background information since I just can't hold myself back." It grinned eerily. "The story's just too juicy to let you keep playing this guessing game like a fucking idiot."

ooo

"I really can't believe it. And this one is better than my old one!" After their haircuts, James getting rid of his split ends and Carlos looking more like his old self than a half-hippie, the tall boy had noticed a display of combs on a shelf. They looked new and glossy; the absolute definition of a perfect life—well, hair—saver. Without thinking twice, James bought a comb, coloured a soft tan; one that gently undid the small tangles of his hair.

Carlos replied nothing to that, and James spoke no more after. They were near the Palm Woods, already spotting the large building that was just around the corner. James sighed, reminding himself that he had to get Carlos in without letting anyone find out that he had been gone. Afterwards he could get his long awaited beauty sleep and take a hot shower in the morning to get rid of the dusty hairs on his body. His thoughts were disrupted by a sudden howl slicing the once-serene night air. They both ceased walking. Turning his head to give Carlos a questioning look, James noticed the boy's face had gone ghost white, frightened by the noise.

"I'm sure it was nothing," said James, squeezing his friend's shoulder to snap him out of his shock.

Carlos' eyes shifted downwards, hands vaguely trembling. "Y-yeah," he responded almost inaudibly.

James almost put an arm around him, wanting to comfort the shaken boy, but quickly stopped himself. After a few seconds of lingering in that awkward stop, they resumed walking.

They were unaware of the shaking figure when they passed the back of the hotel building. He was on the concrete, curled into a fetal position, covering his face as if wanting to hide from a certain something.

"I hate that little punk that you're obsessed with. But you want a reason, right? You're smart, so you do. Ask me a question, Logan. I fucking dare you."

Logan shook his head, almost to the point of literally breaking down.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You're so quiet. Speak, dammit. I wanna hear your damn voice!" But Logan kept his mouth shut. "Fine. You won't give me an answer, but I'll still give you mine. See, here's the problem," It murmured resentfully, "You started liking that bitch. How many years ago? Oh yeah—about four. Like many starts, it used to be an innocent little crush. About, hm, a year later you started acting up. You know what I mean, right? You behaved like the regular horny teen. Jack off to your best friend when no one is looking. But you couldn't stop there. You wanted more. You were fucking greedy all of a sudden, but you couldn't tell Carlos anything. 'Oh, it could jeopardize our friendship,'" It mocked in a high-pitched, whiny voice. "Ha, ha, this is fun! I'm a great storyteller, aren't I?

"Anyway, guess what happened then? You created me. I was born in that fucked up mind of yours. This led to more. You sort of, uh—how do I phrase this nicely?—became a little too passionate." It laughed. "I remember that one time when you stayed over at Carlos' home. You were both on his bed and you just couldn't bear the sight of his fucking cute face facing you as he slept and you tried to sleep. You know what happens next." Its eyes were suddenly full of lust. "You were dripping and hard. Shameless, you jacked off right there and then. Ha! You didn't even need a picture that time! Then all your little crude thoughts came together to form a little sex scene were you handcuffed me and screwed me. You told me to say dirty things to you, so I did. When that was over, you were coming all. Over. Your. Hand."

"I never did that!" shouted Logan, face red.

"Come on. Don't you remember that time when you two were sharing your little pizza rolls of love? You were thinking, Logan. But not about him. About me. Because I'm that little sex toy that you used instead of wrecking poor little Carlitos. I didn't mind. But that was the last time you used me. After that stupid plane crash you went fucking crazy. You were so busy worrying about that sleeping bitch that you purposely forgot me and every time you kissed these lips. You suppressed everything about me. You abandoned me. And I fucking hate you for doing that to me. Remember that little girl? That was me. It's called a hallucination, Logan. You paid attention, but that was still not enough to satisfy me. I tried many things when we were at that hospital. Blaming you, making you feel guilty, anything that would make you forget about that bitch and take me instead. So far, nothing has worked. So, here's a simple summary for you. I'm Carlos. The one that you—or should I say used to?—fantasize about. That little other fucker is the one you love." It glowered at Logan as it stuck its lip out. "It's not fair! Oh—and about Kendall… He's thinking about the wrong Carlos. He thinks you raped that bitch; so he's lost trust in you. That's why he's gone psycho against you. Too bad he doesn't know about me. Everything would be dandy then."

"You're not Carlos!" shrieked Logan, kicking and punching at the image before him. This monster couldn't be. Carlos could never say all those nasty things. "And you're-you're not real!"

"Oh, but I am, Logan." It smirked. "If I weren't, I wouldn't be able to control you. See these hands right here? These are the strings, and you are my puppet. I'm the reason why you won't tell anyone about that stupid crash. I'm the reason why you won't tell Carlos he never was in love with you in the first place. I'm the reason why you're lying and you're having Carlos lie to everyone else, also. I'm the reason for this pointless, chaotic shit. I want you to crash and burn first. I won't give up until you're ruined entirely, inside and out. Because then, you'll come crawling back to me. I'm the only one you can love, not that loser. I was here first." It grinned big. "Who knows? Maybe everyone else will also end up paying for what you did. You can't get rid of me." Then It smiled, dark and determined. "And I'll definitely make sure of it. So go ahead. Try to run away from me. But you won't get very far."

A/N: Okay. I know I've been an ungrateful bastard, so I just wanted to say thankyouthankyouthankyou to everyone who has stuck with this story so far. (insertalotofcreeperheartsher e) [: