POINTLESS

Summary: It doesn't matter though. Because no matter how many people; no matter how many lives he saves, he'll never save the one that meant the most to him. A dark look into the life of Lance.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Suite Life of Zack and Cody.

Author's Note: I love Lance. I thought he needed a story.

Warnings: Character death

He sat, mesmerized by the pool, its rippling surface painting light on his face. It was dark out; the lights in the water had turned on. It was way past closing hours, two in the morning to be exact and Mr. Moseby would be on his case if he was awake, but he didn't care.

He just sat, his legs crossed, his eyes staring deep into the pool as a memory stirred.

Lance, his face alight with joy as he ran down the cement floor to the public pool that day; his feet burning on the concrete. He ignored the redness of his bare feet. "Come on, Mom! Let's go swimming!"

His mother trailed wearily behind him, already sweating from the heat outside, her hand gripped in a sweaty, sticky hand; the one of Lance's younger brother, Connor. "I'm coming Lance."

Lance ran back to get his mom. "Come on Mom, let's go!" When his mother failed to reply, he grabbed Connor by the hand and ran. "Let's go swimming, Connor!"

A scurry to slap on sunscreen and hurriedly rub it in. Lance slipped on his goggles, pushing curly brown hair back out of his eyes and watching as Connor adjusted his swim trunks to stop them from riding up his backside. Their mother sat into a chair with a sigh of relief, adjusting the umbrella to shade her.

Connor giggled as Lance pulled him towards the pool. With a whoop, Lance jumped in, delighted at the huge splash. Connor quickly followed.

It was busy that day. Kids laughed and flicked water at each other, parents yelled at their children to put on sunscreen, teenage girls in bikinis sat and tanned, bachelors read their books. It was a long, languid day in the summer.

"You want to play Marco Polo?" Lance asked Connor excitedly, watching as Connor nodded his head. "Ok, I'll start with Marco, ok?"

"Okay," Connor agreed, smiling his grin with missing teeth.

Lance closed his eyes, feeling the excitement build in him. "Marco!"

"Polo!"

He followed the sound of Connor's voice, stumbling around the pool, holding onto the side.

"Marco!"

"Polo!"

"Marco!"

There's no answer.

"Marco!"

Lance waits, his eyes closed, breathing heavily.

"Come on, Connor, no cheating! Marco!"

He hesitates, and then opens his eyes. At the deep end of the pool, Connor is deep underwater, his arms thrashing and his hair billowing out. Lance screams. "CONNOR!"

He looks frantically at the lifeguard's post; he's not there. Nobody has seemed to notice anything. "MY BROTHER'S DROWNING; CONNOR!"

People start looking over at Lance. A heavy woman points and yells, "Hey, that kid's drowning!"

Lance feels dizzy; he pulls himself up onto the side of the pool, feeling the hot cement cooling under his wet hands. Dripping, he runs to the other end of the pool and tries to pull his brother up. He's pushed aside by a thin man; he lands hard on the floor, but the whole time he just looks at Connor who has stopped thrashing and is just floating helplessly.

Lance watches as the man tries mouth-to-mouth, pushing down on Connor's thin body. He watches as the man breathes harder; watches as his mom starts to scream, as people crowd around until the man yells at them. He can't tear his eyes away when the man raises his arms in defeat and says, "I'm sorry."

He watches as people start clearing away, giving their condolences to his mother. He watches as his mother grabs Connor's body close to her chest and cries the way a mother cries when she's lost a child. It's indescribable.

Only when he hears his mother crying; only then does he pass out.

Twelve years later, he breathes heavily as the memory passes; flickers over his mind. He pants, and puts his head in his hands. Feeling the tears come, he pushes them away and thinks about how many people he'll save tomorrow.

It doesn't matter though. Because no matter how many people; no matter how many lives he saves, he'll never save the one that meant the most to him.