A/N: Alright. You're going to be quite mad at how evil I was to end this chapter asI did, but I've been pretty nice when it comes to cliffhangers, so cut me some slack. Thanks to those who reviewed!

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

A brother is a friend provided by nature.

-Legouve Pere

THREE HOURS LATER

Cody had just gotten into Hartford, much later than he'd anticipated, and because it was bordering on four A.M. he decided he'd leave a message on the home phone so his mother wouldn't worry. He'd meant to leave a note, but that hadn't happened. He took out his cell phone and dialed home. No answer. That was good.

A beep. "Hey, mom, it's Cody," he hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Uh, like I said before, I know Zack ran away. I'm in Hartford looking for him. I'm okay, so don't worry. I'm gonna turn my cell off to save battery, but I'm keeping it with me just in case. I'll call you as soon as I find Zack. I'm worried about him right now. Don't call the police, please, mom! I'm fine. Give me one day. If I'm not back or if you haven't heard from me than you can do whatever. But I just need, like, one day, okay? Love you, bye."

He snapped the phone shut and turned it off, sighing and watching his breath appear before him like fog. It was a chilly night; and he was increasingly glad that he had remembered to bring a coat. He doubted Zack would have planned so far ahead.

Okay. First things first. He should ask around; see if anyone had seen his identical twin.

He walked into an all-night store, hopelessly determined.

Zack shivered, teeth chattering violently. It was freezing. January in the northeast was merciless; cold and bitter and icy…And he'd forgotten a coat.

The anger and the hurt that had before pumped so hot in his veins had died down, and now a small tinge of panic had started in the back of his mind. He was somewhere in Hartford, though where he had no idea whatsoever. It was dark and creepy, and odd men with paranoid looks and evil glints would stare at him until he ducked into an ally or a store.

He needed to sleep, too, he was exhausted. But he wasn't stupid; he knew he had to get as far away from Hunter as he could before morning, because as soon as his father found out his was MIA he'd call the cops, and Zack really didn't feel like running any more than he absolutely had to.

He stuffed one cold hand into the pocket of the black sweatshirt and clenched his jaw to stop the chattering. His hand clutching the guitar case was still and red, but he dare not release it. The guitar was all he had left. He'd been walking for twenty more minutes when someone appeared in front of him.

"You lost?"

Zack looked up, but the figure was shadowed. Suddenly he found himself surrounded by people on all sides. Instinctively, Zack began to back away, but he ran into someone behind him.

"No," said Zack nervously, shivering harder.

"You got money on you?"

Zack shook his head (even though he had thirty bucks stuffed in the pockets of his jeans). "No. I just want to get out of the city."

The figure laughed, but it was a laugh that the hairs stand up on the back of Zack's neck. "You're not alone, man. See, here's the thing," he stepped forward, and Zack found himself backed into a dark ally. An ally that reminded him of the one he'd been in when Sam...He shook his head and focused on his present situation. "My brothers and I-," he waved around to the figures surrounding Zack. "Need some cash. We think you're lying. Now, we can get it from you the easy way, or we can offer some…different persuasion. Your call."

Zack sucked in a sharp breath. "I-I only have thirty dollars," he said. "You can have it; here," he grabbed the wad of fives from his left pocket and handed it over to the guy in front of him. "Take it. I-I don't need it."

The figure tucked the money away, but did not leave. "This isn't enough." He said, and though his voice remained even it had retained a steely edge. Zack swallowed thickly.

"It's all I have," he said pleadingly. "I swear! That's all of it!"

The man's head nodded towards the guitar case. "What's in there?"

Despite the rather dire circumstances Zack now found himself in he nearly snorted at the man's question. What did he think was in there? "My guitar. But it's not worth anything," he added quickly, foreseeing the unfortunate.

"Oh, everything's worth something," the man said slyly.

"What?" Zack asked, a deep coat of fear settling on his shoulders as he began to shake nervously. "No, I-,"

"-Give it to me."

Zack frowned. Hell no was he going to hand over his guitar to some guy on the street! "No," he said defensively, affronted.

"Give it to me, kid."

"No."

"Give it to me!"

"No! It's not worth any money! It was a present!" Zack protested loudly, unwilling to part with the instrument that had seen him through such tough times. It was a link to his mother and Cody, a link to his music, a link to his father. And it was his! Suddenly he felt a crashing blow to his stomach and he barreled over in pain.

The people around him sniggered lowly, and the man in front of him kicked him aggressively in the chest. Zack cried out a little, stumbling but managing to stay on his feet. Again, the guy struck; this time to Zack's face. He tasted copper in his mouth, and wiped away the blood that ran from his nose.

"Give us the case!" someone shouted, but when Zack refused to relinquish his hold more blows came raining down and the more he tried to fight them off and roll away, the harder they came.

After a minute of excruciating torture, they stopped, and Zack felt the case being torn from his hands. He tried to call out, but found he lacked the strength, and could only watch as his precious guitar was passed from shadowed hand to shadowed hand as he gasped for the breath that was not there. He felt hands grabbed his sweatshirt and pull him up, slamming him against the cold brick of the surrounding walls.

"Okay," Zack gasped as his head connected viciously with the brick. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" But the man seemed not to listen as he knocked Zack's head harshly against the wall.

He threw the sixteen-year-old to the ground, and, to the mob of snickering young men pulled out a gleaming metal knife. Zack stared up at it; stunned and bleeding, and it took him a moment to realize what it was.

When he did a cold, cruel, deep fear seized him and numbed all sense of thinking. All he could see was the glimmer of the blade…The ever-enclosing hand that held it…The breath that appeared like a ghostly mist in the cold night air.

And then there was only pain.

Sharp, paralyzing, unbearable pain that gripped his abdomen. His hands went to cover the wound, feeling hot, sticky blood gush out like water. His mind flashed bizarrely to the time he'd rented The Shining with Sam and there had been that great wave of blood…He moaned in agony, eyes wide and glazed. He realized a minute later that he was alone.

And as the world faded to black, he felt a deep cut of hurt, somehow worse than the knife's vicious stab, as he remembered that they had taken his guitar.

Cody had thought he heard laughing in an ally he had just passed, and as he ducked behind a dumpster to hide from muggers a gang of eight or so men came dashing out of the lane, the leader clutching something big like a suitcase.

Frowning and filled with a sudden sense of terror, Cody silently crept out of his hiding spot and slowly entered the ally.

Squinting, as the lighting was horrible and the moon hadn't bothered showing up, he tried to focus on a shape near the center. It appeared as though someone was lying on the ground. Because he was a good person and sensitive to the common good, Cody's first inclination was to immediately give assistance to this fallen civilian, but he knew the dangers of touching blood (HIV and AIDS scared him more than anything) and so he hung back, debating.

Maybe he would've turned and walked away had he not heard the faint groan. Maybe he would've forgotten this injured person, walked away in his search for Zack. Maybe he would've moved on with life. He certainly would not have been alone.

Nevertheless he did hear the faint groan emitted from the wounded body and he decided right then and there he had to do something. He crept closer and realized with a startling jolt five seconds later that he knew this victim.

Horror held him hostage in a sea of alarm and shock and terror as he stood and stared at his fallen brother. Fear blinded him and made him unable to do anything but stare. Shock tore at his common sense; destroyed it and brought a ringing in his ears.

Move, Cody, move! Zack's dying, Zack's dying, Zack's dying and you're just going to stand there? Watch him die? Move!

And then the spell was broken.

"Zack!" he whispered, collapsing to his knees, with shaking fingers he reached towards the body, but there was so much blood it made him sick to his stomach. Forcing back bile, he began to shake violently. "Oh, God," tear sprung to his eyes as he slowly reached his hand down to feel for a pulse. "Please," he pleaded with growing desperation. "Please, Zack! Please be alive. Please be alive…"

Please be alive…

To Be Continued

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