Disclaimer: I'd like to point out that I do not and I never will own Big Time Rush, Kendall Schmidt, Logan Henderson, Carlos Pena, Jr., and James Maslow. I do own, however, Catalina "Cat" Aragon, Michael and Andres, and Junior Detective Keller. I semi-own Detective Spencer.

Author's Note: Please enjoy my first official Big Time Rush Fan-fiction. It was originally going to be 84. Out Cold of the 100 themes challenge I'm doing for Big Time Rush, but it expanded to something much more than that.

Downhill From Here

Chapter 8

Mikkal

"Carlos! Open the door, please!" James pound his fists against the bathroom door. His hand ached, he had been doing this since they got back from the hospital and Carlos locked himself in the bathroom a hour ago. "Come on!" He rested his forehead on the wood, breathing deeply.

Kendall came up behind him, a hand coming to his shoulder to give some comfort. What he didn't expect was for hazel eyes to turn to him, pleading "help" in so little words.

While Logan was there when everything went bad there was only so much he could do. Kendall... Kendall was the shoulder to lean on, even for Logan (even for Logan when he would rather keep it a secret). Logan panicked and had a tendency to bring the empathy on himself too much, but Kendall had the logical approach when it came to emotions.

"Carlos," he went for the soothing action of just talking instead of banging on the door. "You know we'll find him, right? Locking yourself in the bathroom won't do anything, in fact it'll probably make things worse."

The door pulled open, almost making the blonde fall. "What do you mean?" Carlos demanded. "Worse? How can I make things worse? Logan's been kidnapped! Nothing gets worse than that!"

Unless he was dead.

But no one wanted to think about that possibility.

Kendall sighed and took him into a tight hug, holding him close. "He'll be found and he'll be safe," he murmured. Moments later James joined in on the hug. "We can't do things like this, though," he continued. "What would Logan say when he finds out? He'd feel really guilty and you guys know how he gets when he's guilty."

Carlos clung to him like he was his anchor to the thought that Logan was going to be found. It was like without him there would be no hope left. "Please bring him home," he mumbled to neither of them.

James and Kendall's eyes met and there was the same prayer in them.

Her line of sight was interrupted by a case file coming in front of her computer. Spencer scowled and yanked the folder from Keller's grip, she wasn't exactly in happy mood. She inspected the label, eyes widening when it fully comprehended.

Case File #56-05

Morgan, Michael W.

North Richland Hills Police Department, Texas

"What do you mean this guy's got a record?" She shouted.

Keller shrugged. "I don't know. And I don't think Mr. and Mrs. Aragon know either, they would've have told us."

"Unless they're hiding something," Spencer muttered, flipping through the file. "Petty theft, car-jacking, assault, breaking and entering, and...stalking? Who'd he stalk?"

He looked at his notes. "Two years ago a twelve year old, Cassidy Jones. And then before that an seven year old nine years ago. His name has been withheld."

She shoved the folder into his chest. "Find. Out. His. Name."

"Okay, okay," he grumbled. "You don't have to get so bitchy."

"Excuse me?" Spencer raised an eyebrow.

He raised his hands in defense. "I'm just saying. You have a nearly flawless track record, you're gonna find this kid. Don't worry."

She sighed and ran her hand through her hard. "Keller...Nick. Nearly flawless doesn't guarantee anything. Nearly flawless means there are flaws, and Logan Mitchell could always be a blemish on the record."

"Then you've just gotta keep working." He gave her a soft smile.

Spencer returned it before taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders. "Then take your own advice and keep working."

"Wakey, wakey sunshine."

His face was slapped lightly, almost lovingly...in a creepy way. He groaned and squeezed his eyes tighter together before he forced them open. Much to his displeasure he was confronted with the smiling form of Michael.

"Ah, there's a good boy."

Logan groaned again, his chest still stinging from the bath it should've never gotten. He let his head roll up to stare at the single light above him before falling back down slightly so he was staring straight ahead.

Michael chuckled. "I see the lesson didn't stick. I guess my teaching could only go so far. I remember you use to be hard to teach. It's amazing you've turned into such a good student in school."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" He croaked out. "You said something about that before. You remember things about me, like you were there. And you know I want to be a doctor even though I haven't mentioned it on any interview yet...who are you?"

"Aw, I'm hurt Mr. Mitchell." He put a hand over his heart. "I use to be a kindergarten teacher back in the day, back in Texas."

Logan's eyes widened. "Mr...Mr. Morgan?"

Michael grinned. "Who else? You use to be borderline ADHD. Now you're a top student, why couldn't you do that for me? Why did you have to exceed me? I taught you the basic vocals of the music line and you weren't even good at it. Yet, you don't thank me when you ever have to say thanks for Big Time Rush. Why you of all people?"

"Why...why are you doing this?" Logan struggled to form the words, the shock seeping in. This was something out of a nightmare, a nightmare he never remembered having.

He shrugged. "I got bored, I tried for Rocque Records. Got denied. Saw you. Did you know your mom put a restraining order on me?" He asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Yeah. Back when you were seven you visited me...well, visited the school, for a 'back in the day' thing and I saw how much you grew. I couldn't help it, I wanted to know more. I wanted to see how you were living your life, how you became so quiet and scare when you use to not be able to sit still for more than a minute.

"Imagine my surprise, I come to your house one day and the door's wide open. Your dad's an asshole, you know that?"

"I have a vague idea," Logan said. He tried to push back the unwanted thoughts that came from that day.

He was rewarded with a slap to the face. His head whipped back and blood pooled in his mouth, he spat out the red onto the bathroom floor. He faintly wondered when he got tied up again.

"That's another thing you didn't do." Michael said. "Back talk to your elders. What happened to you?"

Logan smirked. "I made friends."

"Hello, you've reached Joanna Mitchell. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a short message I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Um. Hey Miss. Mitchell. It's Kendall. Uh, I don't know if you've heard, but I figured...it didn't matter if you have or haven't... you might want to hear it from me...Something's...something's happened to Logan. I don't know everything, but he was taken by a man name Michael Morgan...He's... missing... The LAPD's looking for both of them...But if they can't find him...if they can't find him then we will. When you get this, call me. Please..."

The door slammed shut, stirring Logan from his doze. He jerked his head up to see Michael walk in, a McDonald's bag in hand.

"I've a while to think about what you've said," he started out conversationally. "And I agree. Your friends have made you like this, which is why this is hard for me to say."

Logan's heart clenched painfully, not liking where this was going, but he didn't say a word. He just watched Michael take a taunting bite out of a double cheeseburger. How long had it been since he last ate? Two days? Four days? A week? It certainly felt long enough.

Michael smirked at the silence. "What I mean is: I can't go and kill you friends, no matter how easy it would be." He relished in the slight fear that flickered across the pale teen's face. "But what I can do is what I like to call 'conditioning'."

"Round 1.5!" Michael shouted gleefully though the closet door. "Just think of it this way: When all of this is over, you'll be a good person again."

Logan couldn't hear him, his breathing was too loud and blood roared in his ears. Eyes were blown wide, trying to see through the pitch darkness...Shaking hands roamed over the walls, feeling what he couldn't see. He jiggled the door knob pathetically, but it was not use.

"L-let m-me o-out!" His voice cracked. "P-please!"

"Begging already? Pathetic." His footsteps echoed as he walked away.

He sobbed even though he tried not to, it seemed that's all he'd been doing lately, like the pathetic weakling he was. Oh God, his self-deprecation was back to square one. He just ruined all of his friends' hard work on getting him to realize that, yes, he did matter.

Suddenly, anger took hold. He shot to his feet and slammed against the door, pounding with all of his strength.

"Let me out you asshole!" He shouted. "You psycho, demented freak!"

His hands tore the cheap wood, bleeding and throbbing, but he didn't stop. Logan clawed even more, splinters piercing and ripping the skin. The pain didn't register.

Logan collapsed against the wood, one hand clutching the door knob and the other hitting weakly. He rested his head on the door, eyes falling close.

"Please," he whispered. "Please let me out."

Fear and panic and hopelessness raged a war under his skin to the point were he didn't know which one of the three he was was feeling the strongest. He hated the dark, and he could feel the walls closing in with every panicky breath he took.

It was getting harder to breath. He clutched at his throat with a shaking hand and tried to force air into his lungs. Panic become the strongest and tears stung his eyes.

They fell with surprising intensity; a bone-rattling sob tore through his lips. He couldn't...He couldn't.