I apologize for the wait. And the prank. ^_^ But hey- it's Spring Break! That means I get to write more! Yay!

Enjoy!

"What are we going to do?" Katie whispered.

Jennifer looked down at her daughter and saw that she was staring at the bank. She sighed. Ever since she heard on the news that her boy—her boys—were trapped as hostages in the bank, millions of scenarios passed through her head. Were they hurt? Were they scared? Were they thinking of a way to get out of there, like they always did?

She really hoped they weren't doing anything stupid, something that might get them killed. But of course they would—that's what made them so good.

"Mom."

Jennifer's attention was drawn to Katie, who redirected it with a nod. She looked and saw a woman and a young girl, glaring at each other and waving their hands furiously. They didn't speak. It took Jennifer a second to realize that they were signing in American Sign Language. The young girl looked increasingly upset, while the woman—whom Jennifer realized must be her mother—looked desperate and on the verge of tears.

"No!" the girl finally spat out, turning sharply on her heel and stomping blindly towards Katie and Jennifer. Halfway between she tripped on the curb and would've fallen flat on her face if Katie weren't already stepping forward to meet her.

"You okay?" Jennifer asked.

"Yeah." She shook her head and looked up, large blue eyes shimmering. "I just… I should go back to my mom."

"That you should," Jennifer agreed. "I'm sure whatever you think your mother did it couldn't have been as awful as it seems."

"It is when she just stepped back and left Big Time Rush behind," she muttered.

"You were in the bank?" Katie blurted.

"Katie," Jennifer frowned disapprovingly.

The girl shook her head. "It's okay. We were in the bank. Why, are you fans?"

Katie's lower lip trembled and she bit down on it hard. "Kendall Knight is my brother."

"I'm sorry," the girl said after a second. She seemed to know that any sputtering might make it worse. "My name's Becky. I'm nine, almost ten. You must be Katie, right?"

"Um, yeah." Katie frowned. "How did you…?"

Becky smiled. "I read the magazines, you know. And I guess, people tell me I'm smart for my age."

"I get that all the time."

"Why doesn't your mother come after you?" Jennifer cut in, eyeing Becky's mother. The woman stared at her passively, frowning, before catching her gaze and turning away.

"She never does," Becky said. "I'm… independent, I guess." Her voice was slightly bitter.

Jennifer had never heard such pain and frustration from someone so young. She looked at Katie, who looked back at her. Jennifer sighed.

"Well," she said, "how about you hang with us for a while? Your mother too, if she wants to come with."

"I don't—"

"Really," Jennifer insisted. "I don't want you out here alone anyways. You're too young."

Becky stared at her for a second. Then she started to smile.

…

If Logan were standing, he would've jumped a foot in the air at the gunshot. That was three times he's heard it today. Maybe more—he'd lost track. Looking over his shoulder he saw James struggle to pull the blade through the space in his wrists. After a second he got it, keeping his hands locked behind his back as he looked up at Max and George. They both had their heads turned towards the doorway, but before James could give the knife to Logan, Rick stomped in.

Logan tried not to stare. Rick's black sleeve was dripping blood. He couldn't tell if that was an injury Rick had received, or if it wasn't even his blood to begin with. But suddenly, the blood was making him queasy.

Rick caught them looking at him and scowled. "What are you looking at?" he snapped. "He was getting on my nerves anyways."

The words were spoken to Max and George, who looked tense and awkward standing more guarded against Rick than the boys. Logan and James looked at each other, and then at Carlos and Kendall. If Rick killed David, what did that mean for the others? Max, George, and the other man they never learned the identity of?

As if their thoughts summoned him, the man appeared behind Rick and put a hand on his shoulder. Rick's scowl softened only briefly as he turned to look at him. The other man didn't say another word, but Rick nodded, calmed down some.

Logan found that weird. Were they brothers, or dating, or what? He didn't think anything could calm Rick down like that, especially how psycho the man seemed to be.

The phone started to ring again, and instantly the scowl was back. Rick crossed the room and yanked it off its cradle.

"You should really stop calling every time you hear a gunshot," he snarled. After listening for a second, he ground his teeth. "The kids are fine. Oh, you want proof?"

His eyes traveled to Carlos, and for a second Logan panicked. If he grabbed Carlos or James, it would be really hard to hide the fact that their hands weren't secured anymore. And that would make Rick mad and/or hurt someone. Badly.

Luckily, Rick motioned at Max to haul Logan up and drag him to the counter. Rick thrust the phone to Logan's ear and mouthed, "Talk."

"Hello?"

"Hi, my name is Henry O'Connell. Which one are you?"

"Logan."

"Hi, Logan. Can you tell me who was shot?"

Logan hesitated, eyeing Rick. "Um… we're fine." He hoped that would give Henry O'Connell the information he needed.

Henry O'Connell didn't say anything for a good ten seconds. Finally he asked, "Was… anyone shot?"

"Yes." Logan thought about it. "Maybe. We didn't see."

Rick pulled the phone away from Logan's ear and shoved him down again. "You've got your answer. Kids are fine. Now, do you have what I want?"

His eyebrows raised. "Oh, you do? That was fast. Of course you'll get him. I keep my promises, don't I?" His voice sounded ironic, like there was an inside joke in there somewhere that they didn't understand. "He'll be out in two. I want a civilian to bring me the keys. Don't get your panties tied in a knot—I won't take the civvie, chillax."

After he'd hung up, Rick walked to Kendall and grabbed his chin, turning him this way and that so he could study his face.

"You don't look too damaged," he decided, obviously overlooking Kendall's broken ribs and burned cheekbones. "C'mon, blondie, you're going home. Lucky you."

"What?" Kendall struggled in his grip as he tried to pull him to his feet, gasping from the strain on his ribs. "What—no. No. I'm not—no!"

"Stop fighting me, kid," Rick warned. "You can come with me willingly or I can dump your skinny little ass on the cement. I don't care either way. Matter of fact, I'd rather shoot you in the head and get it over with, but the cops outside might not approve."

"I'm not leaving my friends!" Kendall yelled.

"Go, Kendall."

Logan jumped at the sound of James' forceful voice, the crystal clear message shining in his eyes as he locked gazes with Kendall. "Trust me," screaming in that one look, as if James had absolute certainty that they would see each other again. Logan didn't know if that were true or not.

Kendall didn't break the glance between them, and he never did stop struggling as Rick led him to the door and all but threw him out. Logan could see the officers swarming to get him off of the cement, fighting them all the way. A second later, Rick was shutting the doors and jingling a ring of keys on his finger.

He turned back to Logan, James, and Carlos, grinning. "And then there were three."

…

"No!" Kendall blindly lashed out at whoever was holding him with his head. "No! I'm not leaving them! Let me go!"

His voice was hoarse and it hurt like hell to scream, but nobody seemed to hear him or understand. He needed to get back inside. Logan, James, and Carlos were all in there—with men with guns who have shot people. James being one of them!

Voices assaulted his ears but he didn't want to listen. His eyes were locked on the bank, the building getting farther and farther from him. He could see Rick walking back until he was out of sight. His friends were in there. With Rick. The thought caused him to fight harder.

"Kendall, you need to calm down," someone said. Kendall didn't recognize the voice, or the face that appeared in front of him. He shook his head, ready to retaliate.

"Kendall?"

He froze. That was his mother. For a second reality snapped back into place and he could see the EMT standing in front of him, hands poised in front of him as if he needed to defend himself. Kendall's eyes traveled to the side, where his mom stood with Katie and—Becky?

The EMT studied him warily. "You with us?"

Slowly, Kendall nodded. Someone grasped his hands, forcing them apart. A second later, the zip-tie keeping them together snapped off. Kendall hissed as the blood rushed back to the wrists.

As it turns out, that wasn't the least of his problems. Kendall's eyes widened as his ribs protested violently. It felt like his chest was being ripped apart—except from the inside. Or someone was dropping a piano onto his chest. He suddenly couldn't breathe and he probably would've fallen flat on his butt if someone hadn't caught him.

His vision swam and his hearing faded in and out. "… broken ribs… going into shock…" The words came to him in snippets, and he didn't like them one bit.

Someone laid him down on something he couldn't identify, although it became clear when he started to elevate a couple of feet in the air. A stretcher. Which meant he was going to the hospital. Which meant he was leaving his friends.

Kendall was all ready to protest loudly, jump off of the stretcher and run back towards the bank so he could get his friends out with him. But as soon as he started to sit up, the blackness tugged at him and his chest screamed at him and it was all too much. Kendall barely caught a glimpse of his mother shielding Katie and Becky's eyes before he slipped off the precipice into the void of blackness.