A/N: I was going to wait, but I couldn't resist putting this chapter up. I was going to post it tomorrow anyway and I figured I might as well post it sooner rather than later while I still have your attention ;).

Thanks so much for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Suite Life of Zack and Cody.

New York, New York

July, 2012

Zack had this thing with writing: He wouldn't do it unless he had something to drink sitting next to his laptop. Because he suffered from intolerable and unpredictable migraines alcohol was not an intelligent option (he'd been down that road and had interest in returning).

That left coffee, water and apple juice.

As a kid he'd loved fruit juices. He'd loved them more than sodas, and as ironic as this was it never struck him as such. Sugar was present in both Sprite and apple juice, but one was good long after the lid was opened.

And this was why, at six thirteen in the morning he was in some local grocery store trying to find where they'd put the juice aisle.

He read the signs about the shelves but none of them seemed to say what he wanted to find and none of them were proving any help at all in finding his desired beverage. Zack scowled and turned sharply (planning to go request some service)-

-And slammed harshly into a woman.

The both of them stumbled back and into separate bread displays. Zack shook his head to find equilibrium and immediately hurried over to assist his victim. She seemed steady, head bent as she dusted off her dress suit.

When she looked up to answer his hasty questions he recognized her instantly and his embarrassment immediately intensified.

"Ava!" he said, trying to sound happy to see her as his ears became red.

She looked at him, clutching a Starbucks in her hand. Her makeup was flawless and she had her long hair up in a stylish sort-of bun. "I'm sorry-," she said, seemingly unsure. "Have we met?"

Zack tried not to let her lack of recognition bother him. She was a lawyer, after all; she probably saw thousands of people per day. "I'm a friend of Charlie's," he said charmingly. "We all ate lunch the other day…?"

Ava closed her eyes in humiliation, tapping her head as she remembered finally who he was. "Right," she said with a laugh. "I'm so sorry—it's early, you know, and I've got a hell of a day ahead of me." She sounded completely genuine.

Zack shrugged. "Hey," he said casually. "No problem. I'm sorry I ran into you, though; I was looking for apple juice and I got frustrated when I couldn't find it."

Ava smiled. "Aisle four," she answered. "I just picked some up." She held up her basket to reveal a brand new jug of juice.

Zack nodded appreciatively. "Thank you," he said with an awkward laugh. "Like you said, it's early."

Ava had to go through aisle four again to get to the checkout so she stayed with Zack as they made their way across the store. It was empty save a few cranky employees, and the cheap lights kept flickering.

"So what kind of law do you practice?" Zack asked curiously.

"Political," Ava answered smoothly. "Right now I've got that mayoral campaign and that can get kind of…well, hectic."

Zack whistled, impressed. "Really?" He knew it would be nosy to ask his next question but being a former-journalist he couldn't resist. "Whose side are you on?"

Ava rolled her eyes halfway. "Just looking for the juice, huh?" He was about to apologize and withdraw his question but she proceeded without giving him the chance. "I'm working for Mr. Bailey."

Zack couldn't suppress a gag. "You work for Bailey?" he exclaimed in disgust. "You're running that hypocrite's campaign? God, Charlie made it seem like you were smart." Ava snorted, her heels clacking roughly against the tiled floor.

"Not that you would have any idea, but Mr. Bailey is actually the perfect candidate for the mayor of New York. He's got everything in place; unlike his opponent who couldn't tell you what democracy means let alone how to work with it." Zack let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Well at least Andrews doesn't ignore every person who isn't in his little circle of friends!"

Ava let out a cry of protest. "So it's better to have some liberal nutcase running the country's most important city than it is to have a responsible leader, then? Is that-,"

"-No, but you're forgetting the fact that Bailey isn't a leader—he's a puppet who knows how to dress like a leader! He's some figurehead who knows how to walk the walk and talk the talk, but couldn't manage to find a sidewalk or microphone!"

"And I guess you've got some-oh, I don't know-some Harvard law degree, then? Because of your numerous political achievements you are an absolute expert on American politics, is that it?"

Zack had forgotten completely about apple juice. "You don't need a-a PhD to tell if some guy's telling you the truth. You don't need some Harvard law degree to understand what this city needs! And you don't need some badge to know that Bailey's a fake-ass oil tycoon who's just going to sit in that office and smoke imported Havana cigars as he watches the city kill itself!"

Zack was on a roll now and his face had gone red, his eyes bright and alert. "This country doesn't need another figurehead—we have the Supreme Court for that! What this country needs is to start focusing on—I dunno—the people. Equality and-and health care and education, too! Those are the issues! Those are what these 'leaders' should be talking about! Not redecorating the capitol or-or how to tell the best lie to fool the American public! We don't need to be fooled! We need to be heard!"

Silence regarded the end of his spontaneous speech.

Ava seemed almost speechless, and her defensive matter faded into a slight smile as she regarded him with newfound interest. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and cleared his throat.

"I-," he started to apologize.

Ava cut him off. "-You get that off of some TV show?"

Zack blinked. "What? The speech?" Ava nodded. Zack furrowed his brows and laughed. "Nah. I'm used to just blurting out my opinion in the paper and I guess I just got a little ahead of myself-,"

"-As far as temper tantrums go," Ava continued calmly. "That was one of the most eloquent and sincere ones I've ever heard."

Zack stared at her. "It's-it's just what I think," he shrugged simply.

Ava smiled wisely and pulled something out of her jacket pocket. "That's my point," she answered cryptically. She offered him the retrieved business card and he took it hesitantly. "My number's on there. Call me if you ever want a job."

Zack snorted. "What—working for Bailey? No thanks."

Ava looked back at him clearly. "It pays the rent," she said. "And besides, you're right about people not needing to be fooled."

Zack smiled and looked down at the card in his hand. "I'm not sure I'm the guy you'd want to help run any campaigning-,"

"Relax, Zack. It's not the presidential election—it's just the mayor. He's more of a figurehead anyway, isn't he? A puppet."

"Yeah, but you don't understand," Zack continued, looking at her as if confessing something potentially detrimental. "My brother's the important one. I'm just…I'm just me, you know? And I'm not really a leader, anyway."

Ava raised a brow as if amused. "That's what Bobby Kennedy said." Zack laughed softly and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I'm not exactly Bobby Kennedy," he said honestly.

"No," Ava agreed. "You're Zack Martin. And I think you might surprise yourself." When he still appeared skeptical, she smirked. "What—is your job at the deli too important and influential to leave?"

"Hey," Zack joked, grinning. "At least I'm not working for a hypocrite!"

That night Zack sat up in his apartment. His computer's screen-saver had long been on and he hadn't gotten another sentence of the epilogue complete.

He hadn't written anything because a.) he hadn't gotten the apple juice and b.) he was much too busy staring at the business card he held in his hand.

Maybe…Maybe that job rejection up in Buffalo had been for a reason…Maybe his days of journalism were ending…Maybe his future was-

-But politics?

The idea was not only absurd, it was near impossible. He didn't have any Harvard law degrees and he hadn't done anything in the first twenty-six years of his life that would constitute voter loyalty.

And yet…Maybe…Maybe he did have a knack for it. Maybe he did have something—something he didn't even know about—that would contribute to some sort of-of talent in the political field...

Sure, he was inexperienced. And yes, he wasn't particularly well-educated in that area of study, but he wasn't stupid. He'd read tons of history and governmental and legal books while studying at NYU. He'd put up with friendly teasing from Charlie and from Seth and had poured more effort into political research than he had to his own field of choice.

Maybe…Maybe this was his calling. Maybe this was his moment. Maybe everything else that he had failed at had led to this, and maybe his whole state of being was not to be some lowly misunderstood writer who was always overshadowed by Cody…Maybe his whole state of being was to right the wrongs!

Maybe he wasn't supposed to be serving people in the deli; maybe he was supposed to be serving people in the country.

And this was essentially how the dreamer known as Zack Martin discovered a hidden aspiration to enter the world of politics. This was the beginning of a race that extended far beyond the mayoral election of New York.

This was the beginning of the rest of his life.

And for the first time since getting the job at the New York Times, Zack felt like he finally had something, someone, he wanted to become.

To Be Continued

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NEXT: The Martins reunite! Or do they...