I had a lot of fun with this chapter. George was a fun character to write. I actually can't wait to write more of him. He's going to have some influence over Cody, but not as much as Zack will.

I didn't do as much research for this chapter as I did for previous ones, though I did do a little. The rest of this story is mainly going to focus on the concept of sanity versus insanity and how society draws a line between them. It's going to concentrate on whether Cody is crazy, or whether he's just hurt and irrational. I think I should mention, I'm a psychology major in college and that's probably going to show through with this story.

Enjoy! (And feel free to review!)

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own The Suite Life series

It took Cody a while to get comfortable around George Tanner. He was wary of him from the moment he became his only source of company. As soon as the door was closed and they were left alone together, Cody became a bit anxious. How was he supposed to feel around someone who had been labeled crazy? Who'd been in a psychiatric hospital for God knows how long?

Don't judge, Cody told himself cautiously. You're in here too.

Cody did his best at trying to smile. "So…how long have you been in this place?" He hoped that question wasn't too personal. The last thing he needed on his first day there was to get his roommate riled up.

Luckily, George wasn't fazed in the least. "I'm going on three years," he replied.

"That's kind of a long time," Cody mused.

"Around here it ain't. There are people locked in this place who've been here nearly all their lives; and there are people who'll never leave."

Cody grimaced at that thought. "That's awful."

"This place ain't too bad once you get used to it," George said. "It kinda grows on you. And for some of us, this place is a godsend."

Cody couldn't imagine how that could be. "A godsend?"

"Yeah, for some people this place is a lot better than where they came from…or where they could have ended up. Like, for instance, there's this one kid—I could introduce you to him at lunch time—who used to live on the streets and starve before coming here. He's got OCD, and his parents abandoned him after they found out."

"Oh my God," Cody said in disgust. "How could they do that?"

George shrugged. "I dunno. I guess they just didn't want a mentally ill kid."

Cody shook his head, still in disbelief.

"There are some people who have worse stories than that," George added. "There's another kid I had the misfortune of running into about a year or so back who was a sociopath, and he was put in here for shooting up his high school."

Cody's eyes widened with shock. "Did he kill anyone?"

George nodded. "Two people. And he wounded, like, five more. Needless to say, that kid loves it here. He loves that people found out he was insane."

"Why?" Cody wondered.

George gave him a "duh" kind of look. "It got him out of a prison sentence."

There was a moment's pause as Cody considered all of what George had told him.

"Man," George continued, "I've been here almost three years. Let me tell you, I've heard some of the saddest fuckin' tales in the world. I've heard it all—everything from lost loved ones, to abuse, to disorders, to breakdowns, to scrambled brain waves caused by blows to the head…anything you could think of."

"How can you stand it?" Cody asked.

"It's pretty easy. I just turn off my emotions."

Cody pondered over that. He'd heard stories about people becoming emotionally numb after going through a traumatic event, or a series of traumatic events, but he'd never really believed it. How could you turn off your emotions? Emotions made you human, didn't they? "Is that even possible?"

"Sure, but it takes practice. In a place like this, you don't want to care so much."

There was another moment's pause between them and George could tell by Cody's expression that he was thinking deeply about this. "Are you emo?" he wondered aloud.

That caught Cody off guard. "What?"

"You know, emo. Are you emo? It's fine if you are but, personally, I find them kind of annoying…not to be judgmental or anything."

"Um…no, I'm not…I don't think. It depends on your definition of 'emo' though. Why'd you ask?"

"You seem like the kind of guy who can't understand his emotions. Like you can't sort them out."

If that's your definition of emo, then I SO am, Cody thought.

George took a seat on his bed and leaned his back up against the wall. "So, for the sake of getting to know one another," he said, "where are you from?"

Cody sat at the edge of his own bed. "Boston," he replied.

"Ah, so you're a hometown boy."

"Recently, though, I was in New Haven, Connecticut. I just came back the week before last."

"What were you doing there, of all places?"

"I was going to college at Yale."

"What were you studying?"

"Business and law."

George chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No, what is it?"

"It's just…" George took a breath. "In figures I would get a roommate who would be into those two things, when I'm completely against them…you know? I'm not a fan of business, or the law. But then again, the law loves me cause I give it business."

Cody had to smile at that. "Why do I get the feeling that you're an ex-criminal?"

George smiled too, but his smile looked somewhat faked. "I'm not the one who's the criminal," he said. "They are."

"What do you mean 'they'?"

"Authority. They're the criminals."

Cody decided not to go any further into that…mostly because he could see a possible argument arising, and that was definitely not something he wanted. Instead, he asked "Why are you in here, George?"

George flashed him a sudden maniacal, demented look. "I'm a gay sex addict," he said quickly.

Cody backed away, horrified. "WHAT?"

George grinned mischievously. "I'm just kidding," he said. "I like to tell my roommates that though…to scare them."

Cody relaxed. "You've had other roommates?"

"Yeah, several."

"If you don't mind my asking, what happened to them?"

"Various things—some had to be moved to other sections of the hospital, some were released. I told that same joke to every single one of them, and they all had the same reaction as you"—George's face abruptly became serious—"Well, except for one. Turns out this guy really was gay, and he thought I was kinda hot. Then I had the same reaction as you. I mean, not that I'm homophobic or anything but, being in a small room, with the door locked…it's kind of a terrifying thought."

Cody breathed. "You're telling me. God, I almost had a heart attack. And that'd really be bad news for me."

"Oh yeah, I heard you had surgery. Mind if I ask what happened?"

Cody wasn't sure if he should tell George about what he'd done to land himself in there, but he figured that George seemed like a nice, jovial guy. Plus, since George had been honest with him, it only made sense to be honest back. "I shot myself," Cody admitted, "in the chest."

"Damn!" George exclaimed. "I think you are emo. So, why'd you do it? Why'd you feel the need to take yourself off the face of the earth?" Interestingly enough, he didn't seem to be disturbed by it so much as simply inquisitive.

"Well, there was this…girl."

"Oh," George interrupted, "that's why. That's so cliché, dude. I was hoping for a better reason this time."

"This time?" Cody asked, confused.

"Like I said before, I've heard every story you could think of."

Cody was a little surprised by George's reaction. He wasn't expecting him to show any pity (especially since he said he was accustomed to turning off his emotions), but he wasn't expecting him to be completely nonchalant about it either. So far, everyone who knew about Cody's attempted suicide had shown some kind of feeling. "And what about you?" he inquired. "What's your story?"

"To cover the basics, bipolar disorder—that's my story."

"You're bipolar?"

"Yep. Have been since I was a teenager, maybe even longer. I'm twenty-three now, by the way."

"You don't act like a bipolar person," Cody observed. "Aren't they supposed to be, like, either extremely happy or totally depressed?"

"Not all the time. That's the cliff notes version of it, but in reality, bipolar disorder is a lot more complex than that. People who are bipolar generally go through two stages—mania and depression, and they tend to alternate between the two at various times. But it doesn't have to be like that. There are some people who experience mania and depression at the same time. And there are others—probably more so than not—who go through periods of being perfectly normal. It all depends. I'm one of the rare types. That's why I don't fall under the common description of bipolar people." George smiled again. "That, and I take a shitload of Depakote. That's the drug these lunatic doctors have me on."

"Does it help?"

"Yeah, but it takes time. It took a while for my body to get used to it. The first day I took it, I spent hours puking my guts out."

"Ew."

"Yeah, the nurses had to waive the whole six-times-a-day restroom breaks with me; otherwise they would have been constantly cleaning up puke from this room."

Instantly, Cody felt the urge to ask a question that had been bothering him for a while. "George, do all patients get put on drugs?" He'd wondered about that several times, but had never worked up the courage to ask someone…mainly because he feared the answer.

"Not all of the patients," George said, "but most of them."

Cody felt a sudden queasiness build up in him and George noticed it. "It's not so bad," he assured him. "Drugs make you happy. Or, at least, pleasantly comfortable. I mean, take me for example, I'd be a lot worse without my Depakote."

But I'm not like you, George. I'm not bipolar. And I'm not sure I want to resort to synthetic feelings.

"But…what if I were to tell my doctor that I didn't want any drugs? Would I still have to take them?"

"Afraid so, man. It's doctor's orders. They get to decide."

"But why?" Cody asked indignantly. "Why do they just get to decide what to put in my body? Why don't I have a say? It's my body, isn't it?"

George shrugged. "Because they're the ones with the college degrees. They have control over your body now cause they think you can't take care of it yourself. If they call for drugs, you better believe you're going to get drugs."

"So they own me." Cody felt despair creep its way up his spine as those words escaped his mouth.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," George replied.

They both became silent after that.

…………

The Tipton hotel looked different from the last time Zack had seen it. The furniture was rearranged a bit, and the front desk was moved closer to the door. Zack and his parents decided to stay there for a while, until they could sort things out (whenever that would be.) They talked it over right after Cody left to go to the asylum and they all agreed that they should remain together for the time being and try to be a comfort to one another.

And they chose to do so at the Tipton.

It wasn't so much sentimentality as it was convenience. Kurt (who was a still musician) had been on tour when he found out about Cody; the closest thing to a home he had was the van he traveled in, which wasn't exactly a warm and comforting environment. And Zack couldn't so much as fathom going back to his house. The reason why went without saying. The Tipton was their best bet. The hotel manager, Mr. Moseby, was fine with it. After all, Zack's mom Carey was one of his employees.

But it hurt to be in that place. As soon as Zack arrived after work and walked into the lobby, he was overwhelmed by a string of memories –memories of him and Cody running around, planning schemes, annoying guests, and getting into trouble—that seemed to jump into his head like phantoms and taunt him…make him wish, for once, that he could go back in time rather than have to move forward and reverse things that he could never reverse.

Zack wiped tears out of his eyes. He swallowed an up-coming sob that was lodged in his throat. Breathe, just breathe…in and out, in and out, in and out…don't remember, don't remember…pretend you're someone else if you have to, but don't remember.

"Zack!"

Zack heard the familiar voice come from behind him. He turned around quickly and saw the ever-so-recognizable face. "Hello, Mr. Moseby."

Mr. Moseby had changed. He was still short (shorter than Zack now), but the years were really beginning to show on him. He'd known Zack and Cody for years—ever since they came to the Tipton when they were children. He even chaperoned them when they went to "Seven Seas High." He'd never gotten along with them, however. Very often, they drove him nearly to the brink of insanity.

It felt rather odd when Mr. Moseby wrapped his arms around Zack and pulled him into an embrace. But Zack understood his actions. Carey had no doubt told her boss about Cody. And though Mr. Moseby had often referred to the boys as "hooligans," he couldn't deny the fact that he had a soft spot for them. He always had, and he always would. "Oh, Zack, I am so sorry about what happened to Cody!" He choked. "I could never, in all my life, have expected something as horrible as this to happen! I can't even begin to comprehend how he could do this! Not ever!"

"Please," Zack begged. "Please, Mr. Moseby…don't."

"I'm sorry, Zack," Mr. Moseby apologized. "It's not my place to say anything. Just know that I'm here if you ever want to talk. You're welcome to any empty room in the entire hotel, without charge."

Zack managed to form the slightest of smiles. "Is London's room…?"

Mr. Moseby smiled back. "She's shopping in Paris for two weeks. Help yourself."

London Tipton, the hotel heiress, had the best suite in the building. Zack and Cody used to sneak in to watch her big, flat-screen TV and to use her luxurious bathroom. She also had very plush, comfortable furniture, and the best view outside from her window. The room would give Zack memories, but the only other room he could think of to go to was room 2330, the room in which he and Cody had practically been raised, and that would just be too painful.

"Thanks, Mr. Moseby."

"It's no problem." Mr. Moseby turned to go back to the front desk. "I'll inform your parents that you're here."

…………

Zack sat alone on the lavish couch in London's suite with his legs curled under him and a laptop on his thighs. He was sending an email to Cody's ex-girlfriend, Bailey, in Kansas. He'd debated whether or not to do it and finally decided, why not? She may have been his ex, but she still cared about him. Zack knew she did. She had to. They had been so happy together when they dated at "Seven Seas High." She was a smart, dependable girlfriend—one that Zack respected and considered a good friend. He figured she deserved to know the truth.

She already knew about Brianna—Cody had emailed her about his relationship with her—but she had no idea about the last week and a half. Zack wasn't one hundred percent sure how she would react. She would be devastated for sure, but…what else? There was nothing she could really do. Kansas was a ways away.

Zack looked over his email. It was a lot simpler than it could have been, but he didn't feel like revising it. With all the strain that was already tugging at his heart and mind, he just wasn't up to typing a long sob story. So he covered the basics:

Hey Bailey,

How've you been? How's the farm? I hope your crops are doing well this year. I hope you've been happy up to this point.

Look, Bailey, I can't sugarcoat this. And even if I could, I wouldn't…because you need to know. Cody did something really stupid. His girlfriend Brianna broke up with him a while ago. But before she left, she told him that she'd been cheating with another guy. Cody was really broken up over it. I'd told him not to date her in the first place, but of course, he never listened to me (you and I both know how he can be). Anyway, he came back to Boston and talked to me about it. He even apologized to me.

But that wasn't the main reason he came back. Bailey, I never once thought he would do something this selfish, but the day after he came back, he shot himself. He did it while I was at work. He found the .45 I kept in my bureau and he shot himself in the chest. He's still alive, thankfully. He had to have surgery, but he pulled through. It was a close call though. He flat lined at the hospital… and aside from that, the only reason I managed to call an ambulance was because I'd forgotten some papers for my job and had to go back to get them. I almost lost him. We almost lost him. I'm so shaken up about it. We all are over here.

He's in a mental institution now, called Fairoaks Asylum. He was forced to go there. Hopefully he can get help. Hopefully those doctors over there can get him to love life again. I really want to go see him (even though I'm still mad at him), but visiting hours are not for a few days.

I promise to keep you updated as best as I can. I'm so sorry to be dropping this bomb shell on you.

Love,

Zack

He could have given her far more detail than that. He could have told her about how it hurt him to so much as breathe because he felt like his ribcage was cracking along the center and the tissue inside was pulling apart; and how he suddenly felt so detached from the world and didn't notice little things anymore; and how, though he was never known to be sentimental, he felt the urge to cry at anything that reminded him of his and Cody's childhood; and how he was constantly in a state of paranoia—sometimes subdued, sometimes not—about Cody not being guarded enough and trying to kill himself again. He could have told her all of this, and more.

He could have mentioned that he wasn't the same person now as he was merely a week and a half ago, and he highly doubted he ever would be again. The old Zack was buried under a pile of confusion, fear, and disappointment, and it would take a great deal of strength (which he didn't have right now) to dig him back up.

Even if he was dug up, this new Zack would still exist.

Cody's impulsive choice had split his twin brother into two different people.