Because you're all sticking with me and this fic even through the whole novel-writing, once-a-month-update thing, and because SashaLovesBananas asked and I love that girl, I am going to tell you a bit about my in-progress novel.
So, Kellan Maxwell is the main character and something super weird is going on with him. All these abnormal things keep happening. He doesn't know what it is, but this girl that he just met somehow does. So this girl is really mysterious, and of course Kellan falls in 'like' with her while he's trying to figure out who she really is, what she's hiding from him and trying to figure out what's happening to him at the same time. And he gets caught up in a big huge mess involving, uh...certain people... And because I'm me, this story is pretty angsty, and crazy, and suspenseful, and it's going to be one huge question mark till the very end. At least, I hope it turns out that way. Things always flow so much better in your head. But the romance is pretty minimal cause romance blows. Note I said he falls in like with her. Not love. Zero mushiness or make out scenes. Guh. No offense to romance writers. It's just not MY style.
Yeah, so, it's not much, but I'm not done yet, and just say I somehow win, revealing all right here and now will be the ultimate spoiler, so uh...maybe I'll let you guys know a little bit more later on. But for now I'm being vague cause mystery is enticement! Plus, the title of my novel is still a mystery to me. Hmm.
Ooh, ooh, guess what? ! I taught myself to play Covergirl on acoustic...yeah. :D
BTR SEASON 3 GUYS! ! ! I can't believe it's HERE! ! !
Anyway, making mistakes in my writing is my hugest pet peeve, and I REALLY had ZERO time to edit/read through this, so please, please do not mind any mistakes.
Breakdown
Chapter 36: Restraint
Gustavo Rocque was angry. Actually, he was beyond angry. Way beyond. He was absolutely raging, more so than he'd ever been in his life. Yet, at the same time, he was the tiniest bit proud. Kendall had landed himself in jail, but he'd given the enemy what he'd had coming for a long, long time.
Yet Gustavo couldn't feel too proud for too long. Because if one dog down wasn't bad enough, there was now another out. Gustavo wished fervently that the police would consider lightening Kendall's sentence after hearing Gustavo out, since he knew more about Hawk and his history than Kendall or any of the police or pretty much anyone around.
So Gustavo marched into the police station and demanded to speak with whoever was in charge of giving Kendall his sentence.
Unsurprisingly, he got nowhere. At least, it wasn't surprising for any but himself.
"Do you know who I am? ! I'm Gustavo. Rocque. I'm amazing! I'm amazing."
The only thing amazing the police found about Gustavo was his unrelenting lung-power. He screamed at the entire department for eight minutes straight without pausing for a breath between profanities and insults.
Finally the bulky security guards that resembled Freight Train in body mass kindly escorted Gustavo out of the building. Kindly being dragging, shoving, and finally carrying him to the exit. They could have been harsher.
That had been two hours ago. Now Gustavo stood in his office with Griffin. The silver-haired man was unsmiling as he tore into Gustavo, uncharacteristically angry.
"You let Kendall Knight get himself arrested, and you still don't know how long he'll be held for? This is disappointing news, Gustavo."
"No. no, this is good. It's teaching the dog a lesson." Of course, Gustavo didn't actually feel that way. At all. And he wasn't angry at Kendall, persay. He was angry with the cops, with Clark, and with Hawk. And now, beginning to be irritated with Griffin.
"Gustavo, I have learned many lessons over the years," Griffin ranted. "But none of them were learned from assault. I don't care what lesson this is teaching Kendall. What I do care about is that this incident is costing the company precious dough-"
"This incident? ! This incident? !" Gustavo was beet red. He nearly felt the steam rising from him. His hands unconsciously balled into fists. "This incident is related to one of the dogs being hospitalized due to a mentally deranged enemy! Do you really care more about your 'precious dough' than the health and safety of the dogs? ! You didn't contact me until you found out Kendall was in the slammer! You knew all about what happened with James' 'therapist', and yet not once did you call or visit the hospital! You don't even care! All you want is money, money, money! And now that you aren't getting any, what? You're just going to cut us loose? You're going to end Big Time Rush? Send the dogs, the hardworking, extremely talented dogs back to Minnesota for good, for standing up for themselves? !"
Griffin appraised Gustavo with an icy, sardonic look. "Well, what do you know? Gustavo Rocque does have a heart. He actually likes and cares about the boys."
"I appreciate them!"
"Right. Well, Gustavo, I do, too. Truly, I adore the boys, but the bottom line is that they aren't bringing in any money or recognition. Their fans have practically forgotten all about them. They haven't been in the studio for weeks."
"Griffin, you can't-"
"I'm sorry, Gustavo. It's time to move on. The boys don't get a fourth chance. Big Time Rush is big time done. For good this time."
"Get away from me!"
"James, I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Doctor Hill, do you remember me? I've helped you before; that's all I want to do now."
But James didn't know this young, pretty woman. All he knew was that she was a doctor, and those people were bad. All of them.
James sobbed and shrunk back further. His entire body was screaming at him, protesting the movements as pain shot through his nerves, but the pain was no match for the panic and terror that overwhelmed James and shredded his mind to bits.
"No, no! You lying bitch! I know you work for him! You're a female Dr. Clark! I know what you want! You stupid bitch!"
He turned wide, wild eyes on his mother, who stood, barely able to keep herself upright, pale and watching from behind the many doctors.
"Mom, help me, please Mom! Get them away from me! Mom, they're gonna kill me and Kendall and Logan and Carlos! Mom, please, I need you!"
Brooke felt so dizzy. She heard her son, saw him, flailing and crying and screeching, but she was frozen to the spot. Even her breath was frozen within her. She felt awful for not helping her child, but she just couldn't.
"Somebody sedate him!"
And then movement returned to Brooke.
"No! Don't touch my son-"
A younger, obviously more inexperienced doctor, held Brooke back. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your son is endangering the staff and himself; he's already torn his stitches."
Brooke, upon closer inspection of her thrashing, still screaming son, noticed a small spot of blood on the front of his hospital gown, slowly growing, staining the gown a horrible deep red. She realized all the jerking around must have popped the stitches that were in place from his surgery to repair his punctured lung.
Tears were streaming down Brooke's face as she watched three doctors hold James down, while Dr. Hill inserted the needle into the crook of his elbow. James screamed louder, even more desperately.
"Mom, why are you letting them do this to me? ! Mom, I won't wake up! Mom, Mom, I need you! Please..."
The sedative quickly took effect, and within three more seconds James was slumped in his bed, eyes shut, silent, his wails now only an echo in Brooke's heart.
Brooke had no idea how Carlos and Sylvia were reacting the to entire chaotic scene. All she knew was that her son had officially snapped. Brooke couldn't see anything past the blur the gushing tears created in her vision. Some of the doctors still stood around James. The rest were suddenly ushering herself, Carlos, and his mother out of the room.
Brooke snapped out of her shocked, tormented trance and pushed against the doctor. "Wait, my baby-"
"I'm sorry, Miss, but we're just doing what's best for your son. I understand it may not seem like it, but your son was injuring himself. We may have to consider sending him down to the psychiatric unit once he's physically well enough." The doctor went back into the room without another word, and Brooke let herself slide down the wall and rested her head in her hands and broke down. She felt someone kneel down next to her, predictably Sylvia, but she couldn't care less about being comforted right then.
Her son was broken. He wasn't James anymore. And Brooke had no idea what to do.
"M-Mom?" Carlos' meek, timid voice sounded over Brooke's heart-wrenching sobs, and Sylvia turned to her son. His face was tracked with tears. He look about ten, so scared and lost and innocent.
"It's okay," Sylvia whispered, to all three of them. "Come here, hun."
Carlos slowly lowered himself to the floor next to his mother and the internally shattered Brooke.
Carlos knew his mother was lying. Well, not lying, exactly, but making a false assurance. He wanted to ask her if she really believed what she'd said, but words wouldn't form in his mind, and therefore not on his tongue, either. Instead, he knelt beside the two women and cried with them.
Carlos felt like he'd just lost his best friend.
Kendall hated the lighting in the police station. It cast shadows on the floor of his cell, the shadows of the bars, making him feel even more confined. He wondered how long he'd continue to sit in this cell, on the cold hard floor, right next to the bars, as if the closer he sat to them, the better chance he had of getting out sooner rather than later.
But Kendall had been alone in that cell for three hours already, and the god damn police still hadn't decided on his sentence yet. Couldn't they just take the easy way out by saying "Hey, kid, we don't know what to do with you in here, so we'll just let you go"? There didn't seem to be anything wrong with that. Not in Kendall's opinion, anyway.
The blonde boy sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the wall. Might as well get as 'comfortable' as possible, he thought bitterly. It might be another while.
Kendall sat there, watching the unmoving shadows, until they looked like the real bars of the cell, making Kendall feel disoriented, as if the bars were below him. He fell sideways, laying now. He was slowly but surely losing his mind. Of course, if he had any idea just how literally his friend's mind had just been lost, he wouldn't be complaining.
Kendall sighed, loudly. That was pretty much all there was to do in this tiny hell hole. Listen to himself make bored noises and stare at the dizzying shadows.
"Kendall Knight."
Kendall sat up quickly, then, upon seeing the officer standing on the other side of the doors, free, the damn bastard, he stood, sneering with contempt.
"Let me guess. You're here to apologize for wasting my time, but it's going to be just a few more days until you decide what to do with me."
The officer didn't smile. "Sixty days," he said monotonously.
Kendall's let the mask slip, cocky smirk falling from his face. His disbelief was visibly displayed on all his features; mouth turned slightly downwards, one brow lowered, the other raised, back straightening in alertness. His mind produced just one word. "What?"
"Sixty days," the officer repeated, just as blandly. "You'll be moved to the state prison first thing tomorrow morning and your sixty days will begin then."
"What, wait- sixty days is two months!"
"Being smart isn't gonna get you out of this, kid."
Kendall's mouth fell into a scowl. "You can't be serious! No permanent damage was done to him! He has a history of...of, I don't know, bad stuff, he has to! He's Hawk, evil is all there is to him!"
"Hold your tongue, kid. You're in enough trouble as it is."
"I shouldn't be in any! You don't know Hawk. He's a complete sicko! He's the most abominable man alive! And allowing him to roam around town while I'm stuck in here counting the seconds going by, during which time he could doing to other innocent people what he did to my friend? ! You're just as bad as he is!"
The officer finally showed some emotion. His dark brown eyes seemed to turn onyx, and he stepped closer to the cell, breathing right into Kendall's face as Kendall refused to back away.
"Listen here, punk," he started, his voice now a snarl. "I saw that tape. I saw what you did to that man. And whether or not no permanent damage was done-"
"Officer Burns! I'll take it from here."
Kendall didn't think it was possible for him to feel alleviated to see anyone other than his mother right then, but he was proven wrong when relief flooded him at the sight of Officer Gerald. He was the only officer who knew why Kendall had done what he'd done and believed him. Plus, Kendall knew Gerald was doing everything he could to lighten Kendall's sentence as much as possible. Maybe Kendall had been sentenced to three more months until Officer Gerald got his word in.
Officer Burns, as Kendall now knew him, gave Kendall one last cold, disgusted glare before turning away and treading past his fellow officer without a word.
Gerald watched him go before he made his way over to the cell. Kendall tried to read his body language and facial expression. He thought maybe something had come up, and that was why the cop had come. But physically he gave away nothing.
He stopped in front of the cell and looked at Kendall in a much more understanding manner than any of the other officers had all day.
"Sixty days was the lightest I could get them to agree on," was the first thing he told Kendall.
But the only way Kendall would have cared would have been if he was listening. Which he wasn't. Officer Burns, as much as Kendall hated to admit it due to his immediate hatred for that man, had given him an idea. Inspiration.
"The tape," interrupted the blonde prisoner.
Officer Gerald blinked. "I'm sorry? Kendall, watching the tape again isn't going to help lighten your sentence even more."
Kendall shook his head frantically. "No, no. you saw the tape. But did you hear it?"
Gerald frowned. What was this boy getting at? The officer was starting to worry. Just over three hours in this cell and already Kendall was losing it.
"I doubt hearing what you said to him is going to help anything, either."
"But it would," Kendall argued. "You believe me when I say that Clark was working for Hawk, right?"
The cop affirmed.
"But none of the other officers do. That, and I have no proof." Kendall's eyes twinkled. This might just work.
"Only I do have proof. And it's on that tape. On that tape, Hawk confessed to making Clark do what he did. Or at least, he said something along those lines that proves it!" Kendall, standing behind bars, sentenced to two months in prison, was getting excited about the tape which had landed him there. It wasn't something Officer Gerald saw every day.
"Look, Kendall, I truly do believe everything you've been saying" the police man began slowly. "And I do feel sympathy for you and your friends. But I cannot break the law by letting you go. There was no audio with that tape."
Kendall swore as he spun in his cell and began to pace. "He planned the whole thing!" he cried incredulously. "That son-of-a-bitch set this whole thing up! There had to have been audio on that tape; he just cut it out!" Kendall's hand went up to rub at his temples. He barely noticed he was performing the action.
"He's been plotting against us for almost a year! And now that there's evidence of how evil he really is, that evidence is so coincidentally gone? !" He emitted a strangled growl of fury from deep in his throat. "There has to be some other way, damn it!" Kendall pounded his tightly clenched fist against the metal bars of the cell. Officer Gerald watched calmly. He honestly did wish there was something he could do for the distressed teen, and not only him, but his suffering friends as well. But he couldn't very well go against the police force.
"Can't you send someone undercover, have them follow Hawk around?" Kendall suggested. His tone implicated desperation to the point of needing to resort to craziness; he didn't really think Officer Gerald would agree to that, but he realized that it may actually be a good idea, and he pressed further.
"It happens sometimes. This is the perfect opportunity. Hawk won't suspect a thing, at least not right now, and I'm not the only one claiming Hawk's immorality. All of my friends, my mother, my boss, they'll all back me up on that. And you believe us. So, why not?"
Kendall finished his rant and looked over at Officer Gerald. The cop actually appeared impressed. Kendall had put up a strong argument there. Maybe Officer Gerald could organize something like that, send someone undercover. He wanted to help more than anything, and it seemed like a good idea, one worth trying.
But still he had his doubts. He'd already gotten a month shaved off Kendall's original sentence, unbeknownst to the teen. What if that was all the Chief would allow? Gerald certainly couldn't make the decision of sending someone undercover himself.
He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "I'll see what I can do. It'll need some convincing, but I may be able to make that happen."
Kendall nodded, glad Officer Gerald was the way he was. If Kendall had suggested such a thing to Officer Burns, he likely would have just laughed in his face and told him to dream on.
But Kendall knew not to get too excited. It was a maybe. And even if the maybe turned into a yes, there was no telling whether or not Hawk would slip up and expose his true, worthless self while unknowingly under the watch of the police. And if he did, when. By the time he got caught, it could be too late. Kendall could be long gone from prison, and James and even Carlos and Logan, possibly Katie and their mother, could be in danger or dead or...
But the point was, there still was a chance. If Officer Gerald could make this work, than maybe, just maybe, Hawk would be stopped once and for all. And that was better than nothing.
Right then, in the midst of a huge jumble of disasters and tragedies and catastrophes, Kendall felt a glimmer of hope. Then he remembered he was behind bars, helpless and alone and not with James, whom he was immensely worried about.
Officer Gerald said something and left, and Kendall sat again on the ground and was left to wallow in his thoughts that were no longer hopeful, but rather dark and hopeless.
Kendall had no idea just how worried about his friend he really should have been. He didn't know that his friend was under sedation, and was being monitored closely by the nurses that always seemed to be in his room. Once one left, another entered, and Brooke, Carlos, and Sylvia were going crazy with not being able to see James.
They had been forced once again into the waiting room, and they were about one more day from dragging their mattresses from the Palm Woods into that dreary white room. It had become more of a home than the Palm Woods. An unwelcome one, that was.
They had been sitting in miserable silence for the good part of an hour, when Carlos' soft voice finally penetrated the heavy quietness. He'd murmured something while looking with disbelieving eyes at his phone screen.
"What was that, hun?" Sylvia questioned.
Carlos said it again, his voice soft, but it was enough to hear how it quavered, to pick out the shock in his tone. "Two months."
"Two mon-" Sylvia understood quite suddenly. "That's...For what he did, I mean, it could have been so much worse..."
Brooke didn't say anything. She hadn't even seemed to have had heard Carlos.
But Carlos didn't care that it could have been worse. What he cared about was what it was; a long time without his friend, his band mate, his leader.
His band mate.
Carlos' mind stuck on that one, and past the shock of hearing the news of Kendall's sentence- Carlos would think about that later, when he could get his head fully wrapped around it- the wonder registered, the wonder of what was happening or going to happen to the band. It was something Carlos hadn't thought a great deal of lately. None of them had. The matter of BTR had so abruptly become second rate to what was truly important- the boys' health and safety. And sanity.
What had, or was going to, become of them, of Big Time Rush? Was the band ever going to get back on track? Or had this mess been going on too long; was their extremely lengthy studio and stage absence irreversible?
It was a horrible thought, but Carlos couldn't put it out of his head. Just because it was the least desirable didn't mean it was the least probable. In fact, it was the most probably, and it killed Carlos to think that way, but over the past through months, he'd learned to stop being an optimist. That was how bad things had certainly gotten. Even Carlos didn't smile anymore.
Carlos felt the corners of his mouth pull even lower, almost unconsciously, and he remembered the vow he had made to himself and his three best buddies so many years ago. They'd been hardly twelve. Life had been fair, and easy. And even though Carlos had no intention of ever doing the thing he'd promised about, he made the vow still, just in case. Now he wished he hadn't.
Carlos squeezed his eyes shut and listened to himself repeat the words.
The day I stop being happy is the day the world stops turning.
That day had come and gone. That day was everyday. They had long since passed that day. And it felt a lot to Carlos like the world had stopped turning.
James returned to awareness slowly. His senses awoke, one by one, none of them sharp, everything remaining blurred and fuzzy in his heavy head.
Hearing came to him first; he heard the steady beep of the heart monitor, annoying but reassuring. Next came his sense of touch. He felt the soft bed beneath him, the pillow under his head, and pain. His stomach felt like it was on fire, and he swore if he made one tiny movement, he would tear it open. The skin on his stomach felt tight and itchy, like... If James had been more coherent, he would have know that he was feeling his stitches tugging.
The rest of his body hurt, too, but the pain wasn't intense. It was more irritating than debilitating.
Then James opened his eyes.
Along with sight came the real pain. Bright white lights burned his retinas and made him cry out. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late; the damage had been done. His brain was now pulsating vigorously against his skull, threatening to crack right through it. Suddenly all the minor aches from the rest of his body rushed up to his head, and the mind-splitting agony was all he knew.
James knew he was screaming; he could feel the shrieks of pain ripping from his throat, but he couldn't hear himself. That sense had been switched off again, and instead James could now see, but it wasn't the blinding light that invaded his brain. It was a man. A blonde man, thirties, holding a gun. He emanated pure evil. And Carlos. Carlos was there, too. He was bleeding heavily from his shoulder. The blood was what first snagged James' attention. It wasn't until after he'd gotten past the initial shock of seeing the deep red substance gushing from a bullet wound in his friend's body that James took in the rest of Carlos' appearance. Pale- grey, actually- faced, eyes shut, slumped against the wall. Lifeless. Dead.
James screamed.
And then the loathsome, fair-haired man was pulling on James' arm, for some reason, and James lashed out, shouting profanities and maybe Carlos' name.
He heard Dr. Clark- yes, the name came to him quite suddenly, paralyzing him with terror- saying something about restraints, and James thrashed even more wildly, desperate to get away.
Dr. Clark's hands were all over him. He screamed and screamed and screamed.
The next time James awoke, he didn't remember any of that. So naturally he was confused and even more scared when he realized he couldn't move. His arms were pinned against his side, and he felt the slight pressure of straps pressing down on his legs. He knew he was being held down by restraints, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't afraid of the restraints. There were far scarier things. But he wasn't thinking about Dr. Clark now. He felt serene. Maybe he was pumped so full of drugs that he couldn't feel afraid. Whatever the reason, he was glad he didn't. He was tired of being scared all the time.
James was just about to close his eyes and relish in this unusual feeling of relaxation when from the corner of his eye he saw and nurse walk by. She casually peeked into the room, then backtracked when she saw that the patient's eyes were open and staring at her.
Dr. Hill entered the room, and her heart nearly shattered at the sight of the restrained teen. She hated that it had come to this, the undeniable need to pin him down like so, but he'd been hurting himself and had been endangering the staff. It had literally been the only choice, as sedating him was only a temporary resolution.
But to Dr. Hill's surprise, James didn't seem to be bothered by the restraints. In fact, she swore she saw resignation in his eyes; he just didn't care anymore. He'd given up on feeling anything, it seemed. Everything he'd been through, it had cracked him beyond repair, and now he was just an emotionless shell of his former self.
Another piece of Dr. Hill's heart chipped away.
"Nice to see you awake," she began softly. "Are you okay?" It was a stupid, redundant question and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself.
"I don't know what I am anymore," James murmured, and his voice was even more resigned than his dead eyes. "I'm just...broken. That's all that's left of me, pieces, ones that will never be able to be put back together. Even if my friends are the glue."
Dr. Hill felt a few hot tears escape from the corners of her eyes and track down her face. She didn't bother to wipe them away. This was simply too heart-breaking. She moved closer to James. She studied him a moment. She looked past the obvious- the fading bruises and the fresh bandage around his torso and the healing cut on his temple- and deeper inside. Past the obvious surrender to all things unfair. She saw a strange calmness, one she did not expect to see. He was calm. After everything he'd been through, after screaming and cursing and thrashing around just hours ago, he was now completely tranquil. It was almost eerie.
But that calmness was what compelled Dr. Hill to do what she did next. She reach across James and unsnapped the restraints.
His glassy hazel eyes watched her movements, and he relaxed even more. She trusted him. He knew he couldn't abuse that trust, and suddenly James knew that he wouldn't. Somehow, he felt that since he was no longer retrained, he wouldn't give them any reason to re-snap the restraints. He wouldn't let himself lose it again.
Of course, having another fit of panic was completely out of his control, but he just felt so serene in that moment. He wanted the feeling to last forever.
James blinked up at Dr. Hill as she unhooked the restraints from his bed. She didn't say a word, not even when he quietly thanked her. She simply ran her hand through his hair once and left the room.
James watched her leave, and he realized that it hadn't even bothered him that she had said nothing to reassure him after his speech of defeat. He was so sick and tired of hearing false assurances. He'd rather people just tell him how bad things were going to get so that he could be prepared. Instead, that straight up lied to him, said things they only wished were true. And James was done with that.
So, yes, he was actually almost glad that Dr. Hill hadn't done anything more than stroke his hair.
James moved his arms and legs around, savouring the privilege of free movement and even relishing the pain. He didn't care that it hurt. Crying wasn't going to help. He was through with being weak. It weakened everyone else around him, and weakness was the last thing they needed to be.
Logan thanked the officer as he swung the door shut behind him. The squad car pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and Logan made his way toward the entrance.
He and Mrs. Knight both knew there was nothing she could do or say to sway the decision of Kendall's sentence, but she'd stayed at the station anyway, because she was allowed to see Kendall for half an hour before he was taken away to prison. Katie had stayed firmly by her mother's side.
Logan would have liked to have a half hour with Kendall, as well, but he was far too worried about James to stay. He was sure Kendall would understand. Besides, Logan knew he would be distracted by his concerned thoughts the entire time if he'd stayed with Kendall. Of course he'd been worried about his blonde friend's predicament, but his thoughts had been on James during his whole visit at the police station. He needed to see his emotionally wrecked friend. Fortunately for him, one of the officer's had been polite enough to offer him a ride to the hospital, since Mrs. Knight would need her van to get her and Katie back to the hospital later.
Logan hustled through the automatic sliding doors and glanced into the waiting room to see if he could spot Carlos or his mother, or Brooke. None of them were in there. Maybe they were in James' room.
Logan speed-walked to the elevator, not wanted to get reprimanded for running, but once he was on the second floor, he glanced either way down the hall, then took off in a sprint to James' room.
The door wasn't open nor closed; it was slightly ajar. Logan listened hard through the opening, but all he could hear was the steady beep, beep, beep of James' heart monitor. No voices. So Logan peeked his around the door and saw James laying on his back, looking pale and so fragile as he stared up at the ceiling, unmoving and unblinking.
Logan knocked gently. James didn't flinch. So Logan knocked a bit louder and cleared his throat. When it was apparent that he was to be getting no reaction from James, the smart boy took a step into the room. "Up for a visitor?" he asked.
Without removing his eyes from whatever was so fascinating on the plain white ceiling, James nodded slightly.
Logan moved further into the room, making his way to James' bed. He took a seat in one of the plastic chairs in the corner of the room after moving it beside James' bed. Then he took a moment to study his friend. He didn't like what he saw. Ashen complexion, dull eyes, disheveled hair...the eyes were what got to Logan the most.
Finally, after about three minutes, James spoke. Logan almost wished he hadn't. "I know they want to put me in the psychiatric department."
Logan didn't have a response.
James sighed. "I don't agree. I'm fine now."
"James-"
"No, really." James spoke softly, calmly. It was such a nice change from his usual panicky tone that Logan almost didn't take into consideration the fact that since it was such a change, it seemed wrong.
"I freaked out, got sedated, woke up, and now I'm fine. And I don't just mean for right now. I mean, I feel like nothing will ever bother me again. I know Clark is dead; why do- or, why did- I keep letting myself see him?"
"James, you..."
James nodded. "Yup. I remember. All of it. Every last horrible detail. Only it's done now, it's over with. It's all in the past, so why bother letting it get in my head? It was bad, yes, really bad, but now I can forget about it and focus on getting our band back out there. We're still a band, remember? Gosh, it hardly feels like it anymore. But don't worry Logan, I promise all of you that Big Time Rush will rise again. All we have to do is wait for Kendall to get released. That'll be soon, right, Logan? Kendall didn't do anything wrong. And as soon as he's out of the slammer, we are all heading straight back to the studio and listening to Gustavo scream at us for ten hours, because even though I may sound out of my mind-"
Not at all, Logan thought dejectedly.
"-I actually miss that. I guess the bottom line of all this rambling is: Nothing can or will stop us. Big Time Rush is going to make a big time comeback."
It had taken Logan a good ten minutes to absorb it all. James remembered, and he wasn't disturbed in the slightest. Then again, he had told Logan everything that had happened while he'd been at the police station. The severe panic attack- that must have been an understatement- the sedation, the freaking restraints (that part fazed Logan a bit, and he was glad he hadn't had to see it) and then the waking up and feeling utterly, completely serene. It didn't make sense. The only possible explanation was that James was shattered far worse than he'd thought; he was shutting off his emotions, not allowing himself to feel. Anything.
Even when Logan had told James that Kendall was going to be in jail for two months. James hadn't seemed as upset as he should have. He'd played the optimist and said by that time, James would just be fully recovered- physically.
After that discussion was over with and Logan had learned that Carlos, Brooke and Sylvia were in the cafeteria, Logan's phone had gone off timely, and he'd hurried out of the room to answer when the name 'Gustavo' had popped up on the screen.
James had simply continued his staring contest with the ceiling while fantasizing BTR's next concert.
Shortly after, his own phone began buzzing. The police had gotten it back for him from Clark's office after the crime scene had been cleaned. The phone had been sitting on the table beside James' hospital bed ever since he'd woken from the psuedocoma.
Curiously, he picked it up. His eyes scanned the screen, and he saw why it was going off. For the first time since he'd last woken, emotion registered within him. He felt his eyes fill with tears.
Just then the door opened, and Logan came back in. James knew right away that something was horribly wrong; he could see it in Logan's dispirited face.
He began explaining without any prompting from James.
"That was Gustavo. He spoke with Griffin earlier."
James felt his stomach tighten into a knot. He swallowed hard and listened to Logan's next words carefully.
"It wasn't a long conversation, but it was pretty heated..." Logan was stalling. He knew he was. He didn't want to say it. He didn't even want to think it. But he'd known this was coming. At least, he'd estimated it would. With Kendall in jail and James in the hospital and Carlos injured...It was so blindingly obvious that the four of them had shut it out, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if they didn't consider it, it wouldn't happen. But it had happened, and now it was time to reveal the devastating news. James was already so broken, Logan figured it couldn't get any worse.
Logan's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke the heavy, dreadful words. "It's over. We're over. The band is dead."
So this was it then. The official end of Big Time Rush.
James shut his eyes as a numbness spread across his body. His first feeling wasn't that of sadness, or remorse, or even anger. He felt...nothing.
However, a single tear did escape from beneath his tightly closed lids.
The news couldn't have come at a worse time.
It was a minute past midnight. James' phone had gone off because he'd set an alarm, one he set on the same day at the same time every year, so that the instant it was that special day, he'd know.
Today was James' seventeenth birthday.
Yeah. So. If everything that's going on isn't bad enough, it's going down on James' birthday...Gosh, could I be any nastier to that boy?
So maybe you noticed and maybe you didn't- I'm hoping you guys didn't- but about halfway through this chap I got so tired of being stuck on it that I just started spewing random crap onto the page and...that was the result. Hope it's not too disappointing. I know it's certainly not my best work.