Hey! I'm Rebecca and this is my very first fan fiction ever. I know I didn't have an author's note on my first chapter. I forgot to put one in and I'm too lazy to go back and change it.

I love to write and I'm really excited to see what people think of my skills. Since this is my very first, I hope you all will be gentle with me. But all reviews are welcome. Enjoy!

Also, I apologize, but I forgot to add in the disclaimer in the first chapter. So here it is:

Disclaimer: I do not own The Suite Life series.

Cody knew full well why he didn't like life anymore. But he wasn't so sure how he could go so far as to want to die. He had plenty to live for, and he was aware of that. He loved his brother Zack, and his mom, and his dad, and his friends from school (namely Bob and Barbara), and he still had affection for Bailey, his ex. He wasn't so far gone that he'd completely forgotten about them. He knew they would miss him terribly. As he was rummaging through the bureau in Zack's room, looking for the gun, he thought about what their reactions would be.

Zack would be pissed. Cody could picture him pacing back and forth, clenching his fists, screaming at the top of his lungs, "What was he thinking? What the hell was he thinking? How in fuck's name could he do this?" His mother would cry; he already knew that. He imagined her sitting alone on her couch, back at the Tipton hotel where she still lived and worked as a lounge singer, hugging a pillow to herself and sobbing uncontrollably into it. She would probably cry herself to sleep for several nights. His friends would all have a mixture of feelings. There would be tears (especially from Barbara), and resentment, and most likely some counseling. And Bailey…well, he wasn't exactly sure how Bailey would react. She'd been his girlfriend for the longest time, and they'd been so happy together for a while. Their break up had nothing to do with bad feelings towards each other; it was purely convenience. They'd met on a cruise ship, during a long-term study abroad program called "Seven Seas High" and she'd been his number one girl almost from day one. But it eventually ended. They graduated and had to go their separate ways. It just wasn't logical for them to keep dating. He hadn't really stayed in touch with her (mostly because it was too painful and confusing for the both of them), but he still cared about her and he assumed she felt the same. She would be hurt. How much, he didn't know. But she would be hurt.

The truth of this was engrained in Cody's brain. He had no doubts about it. He didn't want to break the hearts of his loved ones, but at the same time he wanted freedom. Life seemed a cruel joke. A joke that he was dumb enough to be the butt of. He'd set himself up to damaged. He'd opened his heart again to love—which was difficult already due to his break-up with Bailey—and allowed it to enter into him. It felt so beautiful at first. A flutter in his stomach. A jolt shooting up his spine. It was new, and refreshing, and it seemed worth the effort he put into it. But, of course, it wasn't. Cody realized that now. It was never worth the effort. How could it be, when all that came out of it was heartache? He'd fallen for the joke…and in doing so, became the joke.

The punch line was pain.

Finally, when looking through the bottom drawer, Cody saw it—black and shiny, unused. The .45-caliber. Cody picked it up and shifted it in his hand. It was heavier than it looked. And, though he'd never been a fan of guns before, Cody thought it was beautiful. There was a pack of bullets lying next to it. They beckoned to Cody and he gave in.

He knew how to load a gun. He'd learned when he went off to college. A friend whose father was a police officer had shown him. And right now, Cody had never felt so grateful to anyone in his life. He opened the gun, popped a bullet into the chamber, and then snapped it shut.

His heartbeat began to speed up. His fingers began to twitch. This was it. This was the end.

Now, what part of him to shoot at? Instinct said head. That was where most people would shoot if they were going to kill themselves. They'd shoot at the temple, or through the mouth. Or heck, just aiming at the face would do the trick. Cody put the barrel in his mouth and pulled back the lever. He situated his index finger over the trigger…and waited. What he was waiting for was a signal—an okay from his conscience. Am I really ready to do this? He didn't want to live anymore, granted, but there was just enough self-appreciation left in him to want to be absolutely prepared.

His felt his heart beating in his throat. Pulsing in his ears. As though it was desperately trying to beat as many times as it could before it would have to stop.

Pull the trigger. Go ahead, pull the trigger.

He'd carried out his plan so far. He'd told Zack everything he had in mind to tell him. As soon as he showed up on his brother's doorstep and Zack was standing there in front of him, the first words that came out of his mouth were: "You were right. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then he'd gotten silent and just stood there, gazing down at his shoes.

Zack had opened his arms, saying, "Come here, buddy," and Cody had walked into his embrace without thinking twice. Hot tears stung Cody's eyes but he refused to let them fall. He had too much dignity for that. He was gentle-hearted and, as a child, used to cry over some of the simplest things. But not this time. This time, he told himself to suck it up and be brave. There was no reason to cry anyway; he wasn't going to be around for much longer.

It took him two hours to tell Zack everything. He told him about the dates, the talks, the sneaking out unexpectedly (which he had noticed but never questioned), and then he told him about the final confession Brianna made to him…the one that broke him down. "Please," Cody pleaded, "please, don't say you told me so. I know you did, but still…please don't say it." He wasn't sure if Zack was going to say it or not, but he begged him not to just in case. Zack nodded. He offered for Cody to stay as long as he wanted and to make himself at home.

"It'll be alright, Codes. You're better off now without her anyway. I have to go to work tomorrow. But if you ever want to talk when I'm home, I'm here."

"Thanks Zack."

"No problem."

Zack stood up from the sofa where he'd been sitting next to Cody and turned to leave the room. It was almost 11 p.m. and Zack had to be up at 6 the next morning. Right at that moment, Cody realized he'd forgotten to tell Zack one more thing. "Oh, and Zack?"

Zack turned back around. Cody looked awkwardly at his hands, which had been folded on his lap. This was something he didn't normally tell Zack. "I love you."

"I love you too, man."

Zack left the room. When he was gone, a single tear had slid down Cody's cheek. He'd wiped it away.

That all happened the day before. Now Zack was at work and Cody was in Zack's house by himself, holding Zack's .45 over his tongue, the barrel taking dead aim at his throat and his index finger lightly sweating on the trigger. Now he was at the part where he was going to free himself from his emotional agony.

But suddenly a revelation came to him: he didn't want to go by a shot in the head. That was too cliché. Sure, it would get him the way he wanted to be, but nevertheless, it was too quick. Cody closed his eyes and felt the soft thumping of his heart. My stupid, compassionate, ever-so-loving heart, he thought. It was responsible for all this. It was responsible for his pain.

And when was it ever not? It takes a heart to love, and love is blind and idiotic. Cody thought about how pathetic it was that he'd been so determined to find love. He'd had a passion for it that was like fire. He'd sought it with every fiber of his being, never knowing that such a fire would eventually burn him. I'm such a masochist.

His heart deserved punishment. Cody took the gun out of his mouth and pressed the barrel up against his chest. This was a more painful way to go than a shot in the head, he knew that. But he preferred it anyway. He wanted the bullet to go into his heart. He wanted to bleed it out.

It was beating even faster now, if that was possible. So fast that the beats could not be distinguished from each other.

Pull the trigger, pull the trigger, pull the trigger.

Cody heard the front door of the house open and close. He heard feet shuffling across the carpet. Then Zack's voice—"Hey, Cody? You still here?" Cody faltered. Zack wasn't supposed to be home yet. His shift was just starting!

Cody took in a deep breath. My last full breath, he thought. That was the last thing that went through his mind before he squeezed the trigger. A loud bang pierced his ears. The force of the bullet knocked him onto his back and a sharp burst of intense pain erupted in his chest. He glanced downward. His white shirt was rapidly staining crimson.

He barely noticed when Zack came barging into the room, a worried expression on his face. When he spotted Cody lying there, bleeding and weakening, his eyes widened with shock. "Oh my God!" he gasped. He darted over to him and crouched at his side. "Oh my God!" he repeated. "Cody...Cody, what have you done? Huh? What've you fucking done?" He placed his hands on the wound and applied as much pressure as he could. It wasn't enough. The blood continued to flow, seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

Zack knew he had to call somebody. He had to get an ambulance over there immediately. Otherwise, Cody would die. "Hold on," he told him. Then he got back up and rushed over to the phone, which was sitting at the far side of his room, next to his computer.

Cody reached his arm out to Zack, trying to stop him. He wanted to tell Zack not to save him. To tell him that this was his choice. But he was too late. Zack was already on the phone, and Cody could feel his body shutting down. The loss of blood was taking its toll. It would soon be over.

They say that, when you're dying, you spend the last moments you have left remembering your life. It replays in your head like an old, familiar movie. The phrase commonly used is "flashing before your eyes." But for Cody, that didn't happen. The only thing his mind was able to register was Zack standing a few feet away from him, talking frantically over the phone. Tears were pouring down his face and his voice was breaking.

I'm sorry, Zack. I'm sorry you don't understand why I had to do this. I love you. Really, I do.

Within moments, Cody lost consciousness.

…………

Zack Martin was already at work before he realized he'd left his papers at home. He worked for a company called Rowland Moors Inc. as a constructor. He liked it. It paid decent money and he thought the work was easy enough. Zack was gifted at building things. In high school, the only class he ever excelled at was wood shop which, ironically, his brother Cody had been terrible at. Cody was better than him at everything else—everything that people considered important. He was great at math, and English, and history, and science. He was a teacher's pet. Zack, on the other hand, was often considered a walking disease among the school staff. He hated to admit it, but he was jealous of Cody's achievements. Academics came so easily to Cody. Zack had to put forth an unbearable amount of effort to do as well as his brother did, and he didn't particularly take kindly to effort. He ended up scraping by with average—and below average—grades, frequently leaving his teachers with bad memories and hopes of never having him in class again. But wood shop had been different. His teacher had been fond of him because he was good at constructing things out of wood. And he enjoyed it.

Cody had been overjoyed when Zack told him about his job as a construction worker. "It pays well," he said. "And it should be easy for you."

He was right. Zack was well-liked among his co-workers. His boss admired him too.

But today was turning out to not be Zack's day. As soon and he pulled into his parking spot behind the taped off construction area, grabbed his duffle bag from the back seat and looked inside, he swore under his breath. The blueprints weren't there. He'd worked on them for days and this was the day he had to present them to his boss. Zack had never been absent-minded about his job before. He took it very seriously. The two-hour talk he and Cody had the night before had gotten him distracted. He'd been thinking about his brother all morning.

It was 7:54 a.m. His shift started at 8. He had to tell his boss about the blueprints.

He found his boss, Mr. Hayman, standing in a circle with some other workers who were already wearing their working gear. Zack wasn't too afraid of him. Mr. Hayman liked Zack and was aware that he was a diligent employee. Sucking in a breath, Zack lowered himself beneath the yellow tape marking off the construction site and went over to his boss. He tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, morning Zack," Mr. Hayman said cheerfully after turning around to face him. "How'd you do on those blueprints? I can't wait to see 'em."

"Yeah, about them…" Zack murmured, "I don't have them with me."

Mr. Hayman didn't look angry, though a puzzled "What do you mean?" came out his mouth.

"Look, sir, I'm really sorry, but my brother came back to Boston last night. He's been going through some personal problems and he came to my house to talk to me. I was thinking about him a lot this morning and…well…I kind of forgot to put the blueprints in my duffle bag."

Mr. Hayman sighed.

"I'm really, really sorry sir," Zack said urgently.

"Do you think you could drive back to your house real quick and grab 'em?"

"Yes!"

Mr. Hayman nodded. "Okay, you go do that. I ain't gonna yell at you cause I know you've never done anything like this before. Just make sure it doesn't happen again. If you say you were talking to your brother last night, then I believe you."

Zack was immensely grateful. "Thank you so much, sir! I promise it won't happen again." As fast as he could, he jumped back into his car and took off.

He tried to drive the speed limit on his way home. The last thing he needed right now was a speeding ticket. But it was difficult. He was so anxious to get those blueprints. Today was supposed to be a big day for him. The day when his colleagues and superiors viewed his ideas for the new supermarket they were putting in. He'd been so excited about it over the last few weeks and this was supposed to be the day that his creativity shined.

He was so frustrated with himself. Why did he have to spend all morning thinking about Cody? Cody would be fine. He was strong. Sure, he was broken up over what happened between him and Brianna, but that was just temporary. He would get over it soon enough and resume living his life the way he had been before. He'd go back to college, work hard, find another girlfriend (a better one), and be happy. Jesus, why am I worrying so damn much? Zack asked himself. Why am I not able to concentrate on my work?

As fate would have it, if Zack had concentrated on his work instead of worrying so much, and did not have to go back home when he did, he would have come home to find Cody dead.

When Zack entered the house, he did not know whether or not Cody was still there. He'd told him that he could stay as long as he liked, but Cody had never specified how long he intended that to be. He wasn't in the living room, and he wasn't in the kitchen. "Hey, Cody?" he called out. "You still here?" There was no answer.

Less than a minute later, Zack heard the gunshot from his room.

Pain inexplicably began to form in his own chest. He didn't know what it was—whether it was physical pain or merely a manifestation of his dread. But either way, it was clearly there. Zack rushed to his room. When he opened the door, he couldn't believe what he saw. He didn't want to believe it. But he had to.

There was Cody, lying limply on the floor, blood soaking through his shirt. Next to his hand was his .45-caliber, just recently used.