"Are you, uh... wait a second," Pete protested as Gary yanked him inside and shut the door behind them. Petey looked around as if to really check there was no one there, and then at Gary with such clear intent he didn't even need to open his mouth. "Are you okay?" he asked meekly.

"If I said yes, would you believe me?" he returned.

"I heard you shouting," he confessed. "I... well I was just walking back to my room and-"

"And you couldn't keep your little nose out so you had to listen?" he growled. He'd been far more careful in the past, when he used to do this more, but the sudden fright and sting of anxiety had made him forget; he was out of practice at convincing the rest of the world he was sane, and had made a mistake.

"Gary..." Petey started sombrely, what looked like fear in his eyes. "Were you talking to yourself?"

"What if I was?" he shot, and tightened his grip on Pete's arm. "You're going to forget about it. It wasn't for you to hear." It wasn't for anyone to hear.

"You were talking about Jimmy..." he carried on.

"I told you to forget about it!" he snarled, feeling his temper run away from him like snagged wool unravelling. "It's none of your business!" He was yelling by then, and realised it only after he'd stopped, muffling his volume again even though the damage was already done.

"Gary, I don't think... I know you don't like talking about it, but do you think that maybe..."

"No," he bit before he could say it. "No, no, no, Petey." No drugs, no therapists, no more of any of that.

"Gary," he bleated again.

"Stop doing that!" he snapped. "Whining my name like it'll change anything. It won't."

"I don't think... it might not be, you know, healthy for you to-"

"It's none of your fucking business!" he barked. "What do you know or care about what's healthy? You don't know anything."

"I know that talking to yourself-"

"Shut up!" he snarled. "You don't know a fucking thing, Pete. All you know is what you think is okay in your perfect balanced world where everyone's the same and no one has any problems."

"Maybe if you got help you wouldn't-" He was just digging himself deeper and deeper.

"Wouldn't have problems? You think they can just fix things?" he suggested ominously. "It isn't like that, it's never been like that. No matter what I take or do, I'm always going to be like this, and nothing you or anyone else can talk me into is going to change it." There was the ugly truth, there was no cure for ADD; for anxiety or depression or whatever else had made him the way he was.

"But talking to yourself?" he reiterated sadly.

"Everyone does it! Take a walk around this school with your ears open," he retorted, and his hand was still clenched around Petey's wrist.

"Let go," he told himself, a mentor in his own image standing over Petey's shoulder with a calm, controlled air. An advisor trying to coax the fireworks back into chemical powders. Gary listened, staring dead at it and slowly uncurling his fingers.

"What are you looking at?" Petey said adeptly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Nothing," he answered with a cold-pressed tone, clamping steel down over his temper to smother and shape it. "Just leave me alone, Pete," he added quietly. "Forget about this."

"I can't do that," he replied, "I'm worried, Gary. This isn't... you shouldn't be like this."

Like what? Himself? It figured that even Petey couldn't grasp that.

"I'm not saying you have to go back on meds, okay?" he tried to assuage, but Gary knew it was a trick. It was the same one he'd fallen for before. Promises not to go onto new medication, just some talks with the doctor to assess how things were going, and before he knew it he was swallowing powdered conformity again.

"You're lying," he murmured. "Everyone lies."

"Gary," he pleaded again. "I just..."

"You don't know anything about me," he growled. "Don't pretend you do, that you can give me advice like you understand."

"You listen to Jimmy," he pointed out. "I want to help, so can't you just... explain it, and then maybe-"

"You won't listen," he said coldly, closing his eyes for a moment. Ones like Petey couldn't understand, their normal, boring brains couldn't seem to take it.

"I will," he insisted. "So just-"

"NO!" he screamed suddenly, pushing Pete back a step. "Just back off!" He didn't want Petey's help, or his sympathy or understanding. He didn't want Petey to care, but before he could carry on there were thudding footsteps down the corridor and then his door burst open, almost taking them both down with it.

"What the hell's going on- ohh goddamit," Jimmy groaned as he clapped eyes on them both. "You guys couldn't wait one night before going at it? I was gonna deal with this tomorrow, I swear."

"He came here," Gary glowered. "He was eavesdropping on me."

"Is that right, Pete?" Jimmy shot, and the flash of guilt in his face was intensely gratifying.

"Well I... it's not like I meant to... he wasn't talking to anyone else," he rushed, and Gary would've bashed his head against the wall for just announcing it like that, but it was Jimmy, so it was different. Or so Gary hoped.

"What the hell does that mean? He just in here talking to himself or something?" Jimmy remarked, and they both went quiet, and Gary met his eyes, giving him a tense look. "Well, you sure do help yourself sometimes, Gary," he commented sarcastically, and Gary huffed.

"It's nothing to do with either of you," he growled, and he was already set on edge; if Jimmy tried to push him even a little, he was liable to go off. Not just a little, but completely.

"Okay, right, okay," Jimmy mumbled inanely, and he was looking at Pete, which was reassuring. He stepped towards Petey and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Look, don't worry about it," he said calmly, and his hand moved further, until his whole arm was over Pete's back. "Come with me, Pete, and we can straighten things out."

"Wait," he protested, "but Gary-"

"Needs to cool his shit, am I right?" he finished, throwing Gary a tense look. Gary kept his mouth shut and said nothing, because there was nothing he could say that wouldn't keep them both here longer. Silence and trusting that Jimmy would do what he was supposed to, which was get Pete out as quickly as possible.

"But-" Petey tried again, and Jimmy's arm curled, looping more intimately around his neck, and he trailed off.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about this," Jimmy said persuasively. "So just come along, and leave Gary for now." He was practically dragging him along by the neck, but Pete was weak to Jimmy and now they all knew it. He could coax Petey from the room without protest, shutting the door behind them and leaving Gary to himself again.

"You're pathetic," he told himself. "Let Jimmy do everything for you. Let him take care of Petey for you."

"This is your fault," he snapped back at it, then remembered what he was saying. "My fault," he amended, and sunk back down onto the floor again, overwhelmed with the speed at which everything had happened. "My fucking fault."

"Calm down, baby," a wholly recognisable tone commented; this wasn't his own voice, and it'd been a long time since he'd imagined anyone else speaking to him in one of these situations. "Everyone loses their cool sometimes."

"Lola?" he remarked to himself sceptically, half-picturing her perched on the end of his desk smoking one of his cigarettes. "Really?" This was the best he could offer himself?

"It's okay to get mad and lose control," she purred. "Everyone has their moments." She certainly did.

"Why am I imagining you giving me advice?" he queried sceptically, and knew that – if she were here – she'd just laugh and smirk at him.

"You know why," she replied knowingly, and he rolled his eyes. Even in his head she was exactly the same. "So just relax," she murmured, and he found himself taking long, steadying breaths as if the advice was actually working. This, if anything, was just reminder that he wasn't ever going to be 'normal' like he accused himself. Even if things went well for a while, there was always going to be a lapse somewhere on the horizon, a reminder that this was who he was.

"Are you pitying yourself?" he accused, and then sighed, fighting it back in.

"No... this is just the way things are," he settled. This was what he'd have to live with if he wasn't going to take medication, the price of living without chemical alteration.

"So pick yourself up and get on with it," was the assured retort. "No one ever accomplished anything sitting on the floor like a crybaby."

"Okay," he conceded – agreed, even – and pulled himself onto his feet, leaning back against the door before moving over to the bed. He bored himself to sleep by attempting to do some homework, and pushed away the looming fears, although it was like trying to hold back the tide.

He couldn't help worrying about what would happen, and that made him angry – Pete had no right to intervene in his life like this, even if he thought he had Gary's best interests at heart. What he thought was 'help' was actually torture, but because he had the majority behind him no one would listen. No one except Jimmy at least. He believed, or hoped, that Jimmy would do his job right and stop Petey tattling, that he'd do anything necessary to convince him to leave Gary alone.

He didn't want to admit he was waiting for Jimmy the next morning, but he was, and no sooner had Jimmy appeared that morning than Gary was by his side.

"What did you do with him?" he questioned immediately, and Jimmy frowned with a groggy sleep confusion.

"With who?" Jimmy said blankly, and Gary clipped him around the back of the head.

"Who do you think?" he snapped, and Jimmy gave a huff as they headed out of the dorm, Gary's cigarette already in his mouth before they even passed the doorway. He lit it and pulled deep, drawing the buffer into his body and letting it cushion him, blowing the cloud upwards with a cathartic sigh.

"He sure does go on, doesn't he?" Jimmy murmured dryly, and Gary let out a bitter laugh.

"When he thinks he's onto something, yes," he agreed. "Seriously," he entreated, looking right at Jimmy. "What happened?"

"Nothing, it's... well, it isn't exactly okay," Jimmy answered awkwardly. "He thinks you're wacko, and from what he said to me I'm not surprised."

"I was just... thinking out loud," he hissed, tone carefully quiet. "I'm not-"

"I know you're not bonkers," Jimmy assuaged. "Pete doesn't either, he just thinks that maybe you're getting a little... unstable."

Gary wanted to set fire to the short fuzzy half-presence of Jimmy's hair. He wanted to fight and curse or retaliate somehow – he was angry, furious, and there wasn't anything he could do to make it stop, which was the only thing he actually wanted. Hurting Jimmy wasn't going to help, but that didn't stop the impulses.

"Don't you get it, Jimmy?" he spat, glancing at him and pulling aggressively on his cigarette.

"I try not to assume anything about you any more," he replied bluntly. "So tell me."

"There is no stable," he denounced. "Not for me. Anyone who thinks otherwise can go chase another rainbow." He had to admit it like this because there didn't seem to be any other way they'd understand – why his fate was currently resting on the opinions of two certified idiots was beyond him, but it was convince them with words or fight, and he'd always had far more of a talent for the former.

"So what are you saying?" Jimmy posed.

"I'm saying that Petey needs to mind his own business," he replied. "These are my problems, so it'd be nice if everyone backed off and let me handle them."

"So you're admitting you got problems?" Jimmy pointed out, earning himself another glare.

"You could call them personality features," he amended starchily. "Most of which put me ahead of the crowd. Advantages to our modern society." Most CEOs and politicians were psychopaths of one class or another.

"You're saying that talking to yourself makes you better than everyone else? Good one," Jimmy ridiculed, and Gary would've liked to grab him by the neck and slam him into something, but he stilled his hands.

"I'm saying that if you or anyone else dares to think you have something on me, you've got another thing coming," he replied icily. He was prepared to prove it; just the sort of project he could get his teeth into. Demonstrate the duality of how his 'unstable' mind could do more than any of their boring generic ones could. "Did you get Pete to back off or not?"

"Well..." Jimmy started hesitantly. "He thinks you should be doing something, talking to someone."

"That's exactly how it starts," he replied. "Remember the psychs from Happy Volts?"

"How could I forget," Jimmy murmured grimly. "That's what I said to him, but he wasn't just gonna take my word on it. He thinks I'm crazy enough as it is, let alone now I'm agreeing with you of all people."

"Did it ever occur to the judgemental little prick that-"

"Just cool it, okay?" Jimmy interjected crossly. "Cool your fucking jets, Gary, things are gonna be all right."

"You can't just say that," he hissed. It didn't work like that; he'd heard it before – it'll be all right, son, just a weekend, don't worry, Gary, you won't notice the effects, the change is only small, it's just a trip to the therapist's – reams and reams of lies that he'd swallowed like an idiot and suffered the consequences of. He may have been wearing the tension on his face, because without prompt Jimmy reached across and patted a heavy hand on his back.

"It'll be fine," he soothed like Gary actually needed his comfort, and Gary recoiled from the touch.

"I don't need your sympathy," he snapped, Jimmy heaving a sigh in response.

"Of course not, the great Gary Smith can't possibly take a break from someone," he mocked. "You know I'm half-tempted to ask Lola if you actually relax when you fuck or if you're this uptight the whole time." It was an obvious jab, but he didn't let it set him off, giving Jimmy the cold shoulder. "Oh lighten up," he groaned. "Don't worry about it."

"I'll stop worrying when I know Petey's not sneaking around taking notes on me," he glowered.

"Then chill," Jimmy insisted. "He said he'll hold out for now, but you gotta play nice for a while or even I can't stop him. And he's still going to think you should be seeing a doctor or something."

"It's not his business," he hissed, bothered by the thought like a deep splinter going rancid in his skin. "Why can't he just leave me alone?"

"Because he thinks you're his friend for some reason, even though you're a cunt to him," Jimmy answered succinctly. "And that means he wants to help you or something."

"I don't need help," he growled, but sensed before Jimmy could even speak that the conversation had nowhere to go. He couldn't change Petey's mind by talking to Jimmy, and Jimmy wasn't smart enough to change it for him. Which meant Gary had to do it himself.

And he could. He knew he could – he was capable of anything if he put his mind to it.

Petey was going to have to come off his pedestal, even if it meant dragging him down by force.

While Gary was still working on ways to sully Petey's perfect record – his clean bill of behaviour, of being 'normal' and balanced – someone came in to disrupt the smooth proceedings.

"Hey! You!" Pinky screeched across a busy hallway, and he flinched almost out of instinct, then remembered himself and put on a straight face for her.

"Hi," he offered neutrally. "Problem, Pinky?" Her face seemed to indicate as much.

"Um, yes!" she shot. "I listened to all your stupid advice, and now..." she trailed off upon realising they could be heard in the corridor, screeching at the level she was. "Now I don't know what to do," she hissed under her breath.

"About what?" he remarked without rush. "Don't you like Derby adoring you?" Even from his casual observation, Derby had become very accustomed to Pinky's doting – flattering to his ego as it was – and had founded as much of an emotional connection as a stone-cold bastard like him could manage.

"He doesn't adore me, he thinks I'm his, his... servant!" she spat. "Except now he's gotten used to it, so I have to do it all the time and he gives me nothing in return! Some big plan you had."

"Well you've only half-done the job," he answered. "Of course it isn't working yet."

"What?" she replied curtly. "You mean..." hushing her tone again, "betraying him, right?" He just smiled at her, giving just a hint of a nod.

"You give him a nice toy, then take it away," he explained patronisingly. "Traumatically, preferably. Much less effective if you don't make it hurt."

"Hurt him? I never said I wanted to hurt him," she said unhappily.

"You got yourself into this," he pointed out. "From here on you have a few options; finish the job and teach him to properly appreciateyou, or carry on playing lapcat. Or I guess you can do nothing and waste all the effort and subjugation you put in." Her choices weren't exactly great, and she clearly knew it. She didn't want to hurt Derby, even being the magnificent bastard that he was, which was almost cute in a bumbling, naive way. He'd corrupt her into thinking otherwise soon enough.

"Well..." she murmured. "I don't know."

"It'd be all for his own good," he purred, moving closer to her. "A little burned and he'll learn how to be more appreciativeof everything you do for him. And relax," he soothed, "everyone gets a little emotional scarring here and there, it helps make us into better people." He made it seem as if he spoke from experience, like he was offering up some of his own vulnerability for empathetic purposes, which she responded to.

"You never even said what I'd have to do," she murmured uncomfortably, rightly sensing how she was trapped by the situation.

"Just a little shock-tactic," he alluded. "Something to remind him that his new favourite accessory isn't his without question."

"You mean cheat on him?" she guessed, pulling a face. "I'm not some kind of floozy you know."

"No, not at all," he reassured. "Fooling around behind his back isn't the way to do things. It has to be public, some big affair... like that ball I hear he has in the works."

"But that's been in planning for months!" she squeaked. "If I were to..."

"Show him up at his big moment, in front of everyone?" he interjected. "Why, you'd probably send a message that you're not a girl to be toyed with, not even by Derby Harrington. In fact, if you shamed and hurt him in front of all his friends, pretty much everyone would realise just how important you are." She was dealing with the devil – he didn't disguise it – but the reason such deals were practised was because the temptation was great enough.

"I don't know," she said worriedly.

"Hey, it's your choice," he backed off. "See how you feel on the day. If you need me," he added darkly, and the tone was ambiguous, "I'll be watching." He dared to wink at her before he strolled off, content in his afternoon's work.

However, there was always more work to be done, and top of that list was poor, nuisance-making Pete. Gary couldn't start a blitzkrieg and escape Jimmy's temper, but it didn't need to be as harsh as that. Pete was more sensitive than the usual Bullworth stock, and that meant he'd respond to a subtler play.

The question, though, was how to get to him. Jimmy was easy compared to Petey, because Jimmy went charging in all guns blazing and struck his stupid thick skull against everything in sight. Pete was cautious, and suspicious as a little weasel. The only way to get him was a hoist by his own petard.

However, Gary had a plan. He always had a plan.