…..I...have nothing to say for myself.

Breakdown

Chapter 38: Recovery

Dr. Roberts studied the papers from Dr. Hill on her desk down in the psych department. The ones regarding James Diamond. Dr. Roberts remembered when she'd diagnosed him, months ago, with bipolar disorder. It had been a sad moment. This was sadder. James was so completely shattered, and yet, he thought he was putting himself back together. According to Dr. Anderson's report, which Dr. Roberts had gone over earlier, James was now repressing emotions instead of memories. He had remembered what had landed him in the hospital, every last punch Clark had thrown at him, each and every horrible, unthinkable threat. And yet James didn't care. He claimed he wasn't afraid, and that what had happened was behind him. Dr. Anderson wasn't so sure that was the case. He anticipated another meltdown or few, a crack in the armour. James was drowning his feelings in numbness, and that wouldn't last.

And now James was saying he didn't need any psychological help. He said he wasn't scared of that, either. He just felt it was unnecessary. But Dr. Roberts thought different. Or at least, she thought she did. Dr. Anderson was sure James was going to need to be moved to the psych department by the time he was physically well enough; Dr. Hill, on the other hand, who had started off in the psych department, unlike Dr. Anderson, was convinced that James was truly healing emotionally, and that psychological therapy wouldn't be needed and could potentially make James convert back to the extreme fear he'd experienced upon initially remembering.

Both doctors were experienced enough that Dr. Roberts couldn't and wouldn't bias her decision on that. But both also had valid points. However, it was up to Dr. Roberts to ultimately decide whether or not to bring James down here to psych once he was recovered enough to be moved, which should be in three days max.

Dr. Roberts glanced over both reports once more. If James really was putting his mind back together, perhaps reintroducing him to counseling would only cause him panic. Panic that may very well never resurface if he wasn't put into another situation where he was forced to trust a stranger. She really didn't want to make him go to therapy and be the cause of yet another breakdown from the boy. Not if it wasn't necessary.

Dr. Roberts exhaled decisively as she picked up her pen. She hesitated a moment, finalizing it in her mind. Yes, this was right. It was better this way.

In black ink, Dr. Roberts wrote across a report of her own; Patient not in need of transfer to Psychological Department.

All the talk of nightmares had dampened James' mood even further. The pie Carlos had snuck him from the hospital cafeteria had been surprisingly good- at least, the one bite James had taken, before deciding that he didn't have the appetite for even his favourite food. James had smiled when Carlos had brought it in, but now he was just getting annoyed with his friend for still mourning over not having had been able to get a birthday candle for it.

But James wasn't in the birthday mood. How could he be? Lying in a hospital bed with one injured friend and one prisoner friend was not how he wanted to celebrate turning 17. He had even asked all the moms not to sing him happy birthday.

So now James was having nightmares about pie, and he felt even more messed up in the head than he had so far.

"Logan..."

"Yeah?"

"When am I-"

"When are you what?"

James sighed, gripping the bedsheets tightly in his fists and releasing. "Nevermind."

Logan sat up from his slouched, bored position in his chair. He looked at his friend closely. "No, James, what is it?"

James kept his eyes downcast, making sure they didn't meet Logan's. He hadn't made eye contact with anyone for three hours; he wasn't about to start now. He didn't want to. He couldn't.

"I was just wondering...when am I...when can I leave?"

Logan gave the brunette a skeptical look to match his answer. "The doctor already said you're being discharged in two days. Everything looks good. You're healing up nicely."

James just nodded, eyes still averted, becoming silent.

Logan rose from his chair and moved to stand by James' bed. It was more than obvious that something else was bothering James, something much deeper. And Logan was determined to find out what.

"James."

The boy in question remained stoic.

Logan knelt on the edge of the bed and leaned close to James. "James. Come on. Look at me."

"Why, Logan?" came the whispered response, and despite the soft volume, Logan could hear the strain in James' voice. Like he knew he was about to have to say something he didn't want to say.

"James, what's your real question?"

James just shook his head.

"James." Logan grabbed James' chin with one hand and turned the boy's head carefully but effectively toward his. "James, look at me. Answer me. You were fine a couple of hours ago. Dr. Anderson told you that you can go home in two days. You were happy. Now you're just like you were before."

James shrugged. "So what, Logan? If you went through what I did, you'd be acting a little unpredictable, too, don't you think?"

Logan frowned, a little taken aback. James had told him yesterday that he wasn't afraid anymore. That what had happened no longer bothered him like it had at first. But Logan hadn't believed any of that in the first place. So maybe this sudden change in mood was supposed to be happening. False bravado replaced by the true concerns. A defense mechanism.

Don't forget, he also has a disorder that gives him mood swings, and his medication is a bit wonky right now, Logan reminded himself resentfully.

James suddenly made a disgusted noise and brought his fist down hard on the bed. "I don't know, maybe it's the fact that going back home doesn't excite me when I know Kendall won't be coming back with us. Maybe it's the fact that Griffin is done with us. Which means we're done. Period. Maybe it's the way the doctors were talking about putting me in the psych ward, and now they're not. Maybe it's the freaking pie! I don't know. It's everything. All of it! I'm still so messed up, Logan, and that's my real question. When am I going to be normal again?" James paused. Then, softer; "Am I ever going to be normal again?"

For the first time, Logan had no answer. It didn't take even a second for James to pick up on what that meant.

"You can't even answer! You can't say yes, because you'd be lying! And you don't know what else to say. You're not going to throw a bunch of worthless assurances in my face. Not you, Logan. But, you know what? I'm glad. I'm actually glad for that. I'd rather you let your silence speak for you than for you to speak crap." James tugged a hand through his hair in frustration. He pulled in a short, sharp inhale and released a short, sharp exhale. Then he spoke again.

"Logan, I...actually want to be alone right now. Okay?"

Logan raised his gaze to his friend's solemn face. "James, no, I'm not leaving you."

"No, you're right, you're not. You'll just be doing what I want. And that is something small and simple. To be alone. Please, Logan." James spoke the harmless words in a way that made Logan feel like James wanted to be harmful. So when he left the room, he decided ask to make sure James was getting the right amount of Lamotrigine.

Kendall was really starting to regret all of the times he had complained about being bored. Rainy days at home alone were nothing compared to being in prison. He only got to leave his cell once a day, for an hour and a half, when all of the prisoners got "free time". Kendall spent that time during his first day just sitting at a picnic table out in the jail yard with Hammer and one of the guys from the cell next to them, Nate, the only person he had met so fat that recognized him as being from Big Time Rush.

Kendall couldn't believe he was actually hanging out with criminals. What he found even worse was that he didn't really think of them as criminals, despite the fact the Hammer had nearly killed several people and Nate had robbed three banks. But when you have nothing more to do than recount the dashes etched into the cell wall, you find yourself talking. About anything. And Kendall, Hammer and Nate had done a lot of that the past two days.

And since Kendall was able to admit to himself that he was afraid to be alone while out of his cell, he tried to be friendly with his cell mate and neighbour. And it didn't take long for Kendall to come to a shocking realization; these guys didn't seem bad at all. They acted more like high school students than convicts.

So while jail was boring, it wasn't as scary as Kendall thought it would have been. There hadn't been any fights amongst prisoners, the guards didn't treat them horribly. But then again, Kendall had only been here a day and a half.

"Two months really ain't so bad," Hammer was saying. "Once you get used to the gist of things in here, it actually goes by pretty quickly.

Kendall just sighed. He wanted to say 'Well, hopefully I'll be saying my goodbyes sooner than that'. But he knew he couldn't breathe a word about Officer Gerald's undercover assignment. It was all Kendall had been thinking about for the past 24 hours, and sometimes it was hard not to pray for his early escape out loud.

Now Kendall closed his eyes and tilted his head back, completely tuning out Nate as he launched into yet another story of his tedious yet genius plotting of his previously successful bank robberies. If a 20 year old high school drop out could succeed as a thief as long as he had, surely a trained officer could pull off a successful undercover mission.

"Hawk Records, how may I help you become a bigger sensation than your rival?"

The man with the glasses and the goatee raised his eyebrows somewhat disdainfully. "I'm...just the electrician." He motioned to his coveralls, and Hawk nodded.

"Of course...why are you here?"

"Routine examination, sir. Just to make sure nothing's gone wrong that you don't know about."

"Really? Doesn't seem very 'routine" considering this is the first I've heard of this 'examination'."

"New 2012 protocol. Now if you don't mind..."

Hawk scrutinized this stranger. The brand name on his coveralls said LA-Electric, the best electronics company in the city. Beneath the logo was the name Tony sewn into the fabric in yellow cursive letters.

Hawk pursed his lips. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see some ID."

"No problem." Tony pulled out a small sheath-covered square and held it out for Hawk to take. Hawk studied the ID intensely, only to find that it was completely legitimate. He handed it back carefully.

"I'm going to do the examination now," Tony said slowly, as if he were explaining himself to a toddler. Hawk just sat back behind his desk without a word.

"I need you to evacuate, sir."

Hawk's features darkened. "I need to leave." He didn't say it as a question. He said it as a statement of disbelief.

"Yes, sir, you do. No one is allowed in the building. Part of the protocol. Safety hazards. I have already made sure everyone else has left the building."

"I'm being kicked out of my office for an examination that I don't need."

"I wouldn't put it that way, sir. This would be a lot quicker and easier if you didn't put up a fight."

Hawk sat silently for a moment, seemingly contemplating, before sighing loudly and scanning his desk. All clear. The drawers were already locked.

Hawk stood from his desk and gave Tony another skeptical look. "If any of my personal belongings are tampered with..."

"Of course not, sir. That is not part of the protocol."

Hawk scowled and strode from the office. Officer Gerald was left alone. He watched Hawk turn onto the stairwell and go down. He waited sixty seconds. Then he closed and locked the door and got to work.

Sylvia sighed as she stared into her full cup of coffee. She couldn't bring herself to drink it. Drinking coffee was a normal, casual thing to do. This was not a normal, casual situation. Unconsciously, she tilted her cup side to side, until hot coffee spilled down the sides and puddled on the surface of the table. Sylvia sighed again and didn't bother to wipe up the mess.

"Something's bothering you."

Sylvia looked up, startled from having become accustomed to the silence in the room. Jennifer was looking at her, her eyes displaying concern.

"Something other than the obvious, I mean."

Sylvia glanced back down at her coffee. She watched the drops roll down the sides as she answered. "It is sort of obvious, actually. Carlos is having nightmares, every time he closes his eyes. And I don't know if they'll ever go away with time. At least, not without some sort of help. Professional help. But..."

"But you don't think he can trust anyone."

Sylvia laughed humourlessly. "I wouldn't even trust anyone. Not anymore. Not after this."

Jennifer nodded slowly, in an understanding matter. Every since Kendall had been behind bars, she'd been unable to keep her mind off of him. It was bad enough worrying about how he was taking everything, how he was doing, how he was being treated, if he would get out early... Now she couldn't help but wonder if he was going to need help, too.

"I'm sure you would be allowed to go with him. To a session," Jennifer mused. "Or perhaps get someone your husband trusts. With his-"

"Someone her husband trusts? !" Jennifer and Sylvia swiveled their heads to Brooke, startled. Her outburst had not been expected.

"I'm sorry," she scoffed insincerely. "But what difference does it make if it's someone a cop trusts as opposed to anyone else? The most trustworthy seeming people are the most deceitful. What happened to my son is a perfect example of that." Brooke shook her head. "It's not a good idea. Nobody can be trusted. Getting the help isn't worth the risk."

Sylvia blinked in shock. There was no way Brooke was being serious.

"The chances of this happening again are extremely thin, Brooke," she pointed out. "And nobody would try anything with an officer in the room. My husband has sharp instincts, need I remind you. And he would take a day off duty to go with Carlos in a heartbeat." When Brooke didn't respond, Sylvia did what she had to do. She went right for the kill.

"What does this mean for James then, Brooke? His nightmares will be worse than Carlos'. Are you not going to do anything about that? Are you going to just hope they go away? Because let me tell you something. They won't. They won't go away like magic, and when you're lying in bed listening to your son screaming in the middle of the night for countless nights in a row, you are going to realize how idiotic you sound right now."

Jennifer's eyes widened. She'd always known Brooke had a hot temper, and insulting her was the best way to set her off. So Jennifer was swimming in disbelief when Brooke, instead of fighting back, simply stood up and walked out of the room. She stared at the door, waiting for Brooke to come back screaming until she heard Sylvia release a shaky breath behind her.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. I have to. But, Carlos isn't ready for me to..." Sylvia stared at her coffee again, watching the steam rise. Her arm twitched as she contemplated throwing the hot liquid-filled cup across the room. But that would do no good. None at all. Chucking scalding beverages at walls wasn't going to rid Carlos of his haunting memories and nightmares.

"Carlos is stronger than you think, Sylvia," Jennifer tried to reason. "The...events...are still pretty fresh. I honestly think they will go away on their own. Yes, he's still having dreams, but remember when he first had them? Remember how much worse they were?"

Sylvia gripped her cup harder, seconds away from breaking the styrofoam. She didn't want to be reminded.

"Even I can see they aren't as bad now. He is getting better, Sylvia. Slowly but surely. I feel pretty confident in saying that the nightmares will go away on their own. Eventually. But until whenever that is...well, it's up to you."

Sylvia shook her head, eyes remaining trained firmly on her coffee. "When you all come back for good. That should be...soon. We'll see how Carlos is then. Either he'll be better or no different. Any progress or lack of between now and then will make my decision easier. But for now-" Sylvia sighed heavily, shaking her head once again. "Right now, I just don't know what to do."

A dinner reservation for the next night at seven at Cafe La Boheme. The most private table in the restaurant. It was the only call Hawk had made all day, and since it was now five, it was all Officer Gerald had to go on. Nothing suspicious had been said over the phone line he'd tapped from Hawk's office, but Officer Gerald was going to make a point to be at that restaurant anyway. He may very well bust Hawk early, if this all worked out. And if there really was anything sketchy about this reservation, anyway.

It could just be a normal, casual night out for Hawk. But Officer Gerald suspected differently. Hawk wanted a private booth. Either he was taking a special lady out that he didn't want anyone to find out about, but then, why bother going to a fancy, popular restaurant at all? Officer Gerald was sure something was going to happen involving Hawk and one of his evil schemes at Cafe La Boheme tomorrow night.

And he was going to be there to see it. And then Hawk would be put away, taking Kendall's place in prison, once and for all.

Carlos blinked back tears as he watched the cab transporting his mother to the airport grow to a small yellow dot in the distance, before turning a corner and disappearing from sight altogether. Carlos knew he would see her soon anyway, when they all went back to Minnesota in a week or less, once James was finally released and they had time to pack up their things at the Palm Woods. But he was still going to miss his mother.

Carlos let his eyes drift to the ground as he wandered slowly back into the hospital. He hated how he was able to navigate through the automatic doors and into the waiting room without looking. It was a sad reminder of how much time had been spent here lately. More than too much. He could probably make it all the way to James' room with his eyes closed. But he wasn't in the mood to attempt that.

"Don't worry, it won't be long. You'll be seeing her again soon."

Carlos snapped his head toward Logan, startled, when said boy suddenly appeared beside him. Carlos sighed. "Yeah, but only because the band is no more."

Logan forced a weak smile. He'd been thinking a lot about it, too. No more Big Time Rush. Lately, Logan felt like it didn't even matter that he still had med school. After everything Hollywood had brought them, the good stuff anyway, he wasn't even so sure he wanted to be a doctor anymore. Of course, it had always been his dream- or so he had thought. But he'd also never known that music was his passion. Now that was over. And now, med school didn't seem like a desire. More like a something to fall back on. A second option. Now, though, Logan didn't have much other choice. It had to become reality. It wasn't that he was disappointed about going to become a doctor- though, he'd been around enough of those lately to make him want to wait quite a while- it was the circumstance under which he now had to become a doctor. And not wanting that more than anything else felt foreign to Logan. But he knew what it meant. It meant that he didn't want their musical career to be over. Ever.

But Logan didn't want to think about that anymore. Discussing his confusing musings wasn't what he'd came down to scope out out Carlos for. He had better news.

"They're letting James walk around. He's doing great, actually."

Carlos felt his spirits lift. Any good news about his friend was enough to make him smile, and he did.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. Walked around his entire room already while you were outside. He isn't getting dizzy or anything, so that's a good sign. And he isn't all emotionally numb like he was. The repression isn't as bad anymore. It's looking really good for him. The doctors see no reason to keep him any longer. One more night."

Carlos grinned. "Yes! Finally! I missed James so much. I know he's been right there and everything but...it's not the same, you know?"

Logan chuckled. "Yeah, I sure do know, Carlitos."

"Can we go see him?"

"Yeah. That' why I came to get you. Let's go."

Carlos instantly broke into a speed walk, maneuvering through nurses and gurneys and various other hospital related objects to get to the elevator, just cautious enough to be careful not to hit his shoulder on anything. He'd done that a few times already, and it was anything but fun. Logan followed close behind. It wasn't until they'd stepped off the elevator that Logan warned Carlos.

"He still is a little...emotionally distressed. So don't be upset if he isn't all happy. Or if he gets mood swingy. Okay? I know I said he isn't as bad as yesterday or at all like he was when he first woke up. But he's still a little...unpredictable."

Carlos nodded. He just wanted to see his friend. Maybe he could even cheer him up a little. It wasn't his birthday anymore; perhaps he'd be in a better mood. It was so backward, yet it made sense. In the hospital for your birthday. Carlos would have been bitter about it, too. At least James had liked his present.

Carlos bounded happily into the room and was glad when James smiled at him.

"James, yay!" Carlos was by James' bed in a millisecond, and was talking just as fast. "Logan says you're getting better and you get to go home tomorrow. Are you excited? I am. I know it won't be the Palm Woods for long, but Minnesota is still better than living in the hospital, right? Ooh, I see you got your lucky comb there. Is that why you're so happy? Not because you're seeing me?" Carlos pouted, hurt. He didn't like thinking that James liked his comb better than him. Carlos had gotten him a beautiful case to protect it with, after all.

James laughed. "Carlos, slow down. Yes, I'm a lot better, yes, I'm thrilled to be getting out of here finally, no, I'm not as upset as I was about leaving LA, and no, I'm happy to see you. My comb was just keeping me company until you got up here."

Carlos' pout was replaced by a smile in a flash, and Logan rolled his eyes good-naturedly as his childish friends rambled on. At least James did seem to be in a better mood. He was doing very well physically, that much was obvious, but Logan was still worried about an emotional relapse. He had actually chatted a bit with Dr. Anderson about it. The doctor had advised that James seek some form of counseling when they returned to Minnesota; he'd explained his understanding of how difficult that would be for not just James but all four boys. He'd recommended having a therapist come to the Diamond residences, and allow James' parents, be it both or just whoever James was with that week, to sit in. That would allow James to feel much more comfortable and safe. Dr. Anderson did however express a bit of worry on how the thought of any therapist, regardless of whether or not James' parents were there, would affect James. He very well may be fine with it; he may very well not be.

Dr. Anderson expressed the same concerns for Carlos. He knew the boy wasn't nearly as emotionally scarred as their friend, but the nightmares were still there. However, Logan noticed that they did seem to be getting less frequent, and Carlos' reaction to them less severe. There was a good chance they'd go away on there own, and soon. Logan really hoped, for his friend's sake, that they would.

It was Carlos, however, who had suggested to Logan discreetly, the possibility of him and James attending counseling together, with all four parents. Carlos figured he and James were more comfortable around each other than they were with anyone else, and they'd gone through almost all of this together; they'd both been in the room when Clark had been killed and Carlos had been shot and James had been beaten. Logan had said maybe, but he knew the decision wasn't up to him.

Logan watched his two friends continue to converse, and his thoughts wandered to his other friend. The only one he couldn't keep an eye on, and it was driving him crazy. Kendall wouldn't be out of jail for almost two months. The thing was, Big Time Rush was no more, and therefore weren't making any money, and therefore could no longer afford to reside at the Palm Woods after this week was up. Bitters had already called Mrs. Knight several times about that fact, not seeming to take into consideration their unusual and uncontrollable predicament, or simply not caring.

The point was, there was nowhere for them to stay in LA; the rent was up Sunday. Today was Wednesday. They really didn't have any choice but to go back to Minnesota.

And there was no getting Kendall transferred to the small community jail there. Logan wasn't sure what Mrs. Knight was going to do, but for himself, James, Brooke, and Carlos, there was no other choice.

They had to go home. Without Kendall.

Kendall sat quietly in his cell, awaiting Hammer's return. Horrible as it seemed, having to be this way, Kendall actually sort of...liked Hammer. It was brutal, meeting someone you get along with by sharing a prison cell with them. But it was better than being left on the outs- safer, too.

What would be even better would be not being in here at all.

But Kendall had come to terms with his situation. He was in prison, and Officer Gerald was currently undergoing an uncover mission to spring him. It was all Kendall could hope for at the moment, since wishing on a star that he couldn't even see out his non-existent window certainly wouldn't cut it.

Kendall's heart had fluttered a bit, in a good way, when the guard had approached his and Hammer's cell. He'd thought it was news from Officer Gerald for sure. But no such luck. The other blond delinquent had been led from the cell.

Now Kendall glanced up from where he had been idly tracing his finger around his shoe. The slightest of sobs was what alerted him to his cell mate's return. The guard that guided him back into the cell looked almost sympathetic. Almost. Then he was gone.

Kendall studied the cell's other occupant. His eyes looked slightly shiny, like they were tear-filled, but Hammer wasn't quite crying. In fact, he was regaining composure, it seemed. His slouched shoulders went rigid. He shook his head slowly.

And Kendall knew he was still a good person when he felt concern.

"Hey...everything alright?" he questioned.

Hammer just continued moving his head back and forth. When he spoke, it was distantly, like he didn't realize Kendall was there.

"It ain't that big a deal. We was never really close...But he's still..." Hammer trailed off.

Kendall cleared his throat to let the other man know that he was there, and he was listening. "Hammer. Who? What isn't a big deal? What happened?"

Hammer sighed. He spoke nearly too lowly for Kendall to hear, but Kendall was just able to make out the words.

"I just found out my brother's dead."

Kendall was taken aback. Sure, he knew what death in the family was like. It had happened with his own father. And Kendall remembered, somewhat, how people had acted around him for a while after, how he'd been comforted. But this was different. He had never been the one to do the comforting in such a grim situation, especially not with someone he hardly knew. So Kendall sat there a moment, to see if Hammer would do or say anything else. He didn't. Kendall knew it was time to react.

He cleared his throat. "Hammer I-I'm so sorry. I...honestly, I don't what to say. I know how you're feeling. But I can't really-"

"He was shot by the god damn cops." Hammer's eyes were darkening, no longer brimming with sorrow. Now the blue irises were glinting and fiery with anger.

"Same fuckers who put me in here went an' killed my brother. Last week it was, too. Didn't even have the decency to lemme know right away. Said some shit about needin' to get a story cleared. Whatever the hell he was involved with." Hammer was shaking his head again.

"Screwed up thing is, I ain't got no clue what he'd ever 'a done wrong. He's a- well, guess 'was' now- he was a therapist. Helped people out. So I'd love to know just what the hell he did to get himself shot and killed. Or what he was wrongly accused of. It just don't make any god damn sense."

Hammer emitted a deep, frustrated growl and flung himself onto his bunk. "Whatta fuckin' life." And without another word, the twenty-two year old pulled his pillow over his head and was still.

He had no idea that Kendall's eyes were about to pop from their sockets. Had no clue that Kendall was probably never going to be able to close his huge 'O' of a mouth again. No suspicion as to why Kendall's heart was pounding and jumping and fluttering and electrifying his entire body with shock. Because he hadn't seen. Hammer had no idea. No idea that he had just indirectly told Kendall who his brother was.

Hammer didn't know that he was cell mate's with his brother's victim's best friend.

Bam. This chapter. Is a chapter. That should have been done a very long time ago.

Yes.