Here is chapter 11. It's shorter than the previous chapter, but still rather long. Anyway…Dr. Maps is back!

I know I haven't been putting in disclaimers lately, but everyone knows I own absolutely nothing except the OCs. And speaking of OCs—about the girl that Zack meets at the hospital, she's not significant or anything; I just wanted to have fun with her character. I like adding horny characters.

"Well, well," George said when the metal door closed behind Cody. "Your third day here and already you've got visitors."

"Yeah," Cody said, "my family came to see me. It wasn't exactly a happy reunion though. Zack and I got into an argument."

George seemed to understand. "Over why you're here?" he asked.

"Yeah." Cody sighed and plopped down on his bed. He wasn't in a good mood, but at the same time, he wasn't really angry. Agitated maybe? On edge? It hadn't been his idea to have a fight with Zack. Zack was the one who started it. And for what? It wasn't like they discussed anything they didn't go over back in that hospital recovery room.

But wait, something had been different. A minor detail that was very important.

We argued about death.

And what on Earth led to that? He couldn't even remember. All he could recall was asking why death was so bad. Wasn't it just the opposite of life? Wasn't it destined for everyone? Yes, it was. Everyone died eventually. Life came in a cycle; some called it "the circle of life." Death was simply the other end of the spectrum.

"But that doesn't give you free reign to take your own life. That's just selfish."—that's what Zack had said in return. But…why not? All around, people died by natural causes. Diseases. Accidents. Old age. With the occasional murder. Why was it so selfish to want to pick your own death, on your own terms, when you felt ready to go?

Because, you moron, you don't decide when you go. What you think is best for you isn't always what's best for others—for the ones you love. Shouldn't they be your priority? There are people in the world who would love to commit suicide but never do, only because of how it would affect their loved ones. They have the ability to think of what's good for the many, rather than just what's good for them. Why can't you do the same?

And besides, sometimes what's not the best for your loved ones really isn't what's best for you either. It's a sad and curious truth that we often confuse what we wish for with what is.

Why does this confusion happen? The answer's simple—pain. Pain is the offset of confusion. You've gone through plenty of it. Even more than you know. But does being confused offer an excuse for doing the wrong thing? That right there is where we get into the unsolvable problems.

"You know something, Cody?" George said from across the room, bringing Cody out of his stupor. "I've been here just short of three years and I've never had a visitor."

Cody considered that. Three years? With no visitors? Not that that was surprising, given George's history. But, nonetheless, Cody was overcome with empathy for him. "That's sad, George. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's not shocking news or anything."

"I'm still sorry, George."

"Why?" George looked—quite possibly for the first time—genuinely perplexed.

"Because…I'm your friend. It's my job to sympathize with you."

"And I suppose you want me to do the same for you?"

"No. You don't have to. Friends don't ask for anything in return. At least, real friends don't."

George thought about that for a moment before saying anything. When he spoke, it was with perfect insight and clarity. "You know what, Cody? You're the first real friend I've had."

A twenty-three-year-old who's never had any real friends, and doesn't know the meaning of real friendship? "That's sad, too," Cody told him. "And I'm sorry."

…………

When Zack looked through the windshield of his car at the hospital where Cody had been taken all those days ago—days that felt more like years—he couldn't help but feel that it looked smaller than it had the last time he saw it. It still towered over any other building within a block's distance, rising into the sky by a good thirteen stories or so, but it still looked smaller than it had before. There was a large section of it that was windowed by glass panels on which the sunlight was reflecting, and two thick columns stood at each side of the front doors. The building itself shown a familiar rusty red that made people assume it was older than it really was. It looked the same, but also different. Strangely different. When Zack drove up to it, he was hit by a sense of aching in his chest. This is where I almost lost Cody. This place…this is where he died on an ER bed and somehow got brought back. This is where we waited for him to either pull through or give up. Where I prayed for him, only because I didn't know what else to do. Where his chest had to get sliced open and a bullet—one of my own—had to get taken out. Where I ran to him, and cried for him, and ranted and fumed, and then left him to get sent to a mental institution.

This place is a catalyst for Cody's life. It's the place where he and I were united after tragedy, but then emotionally fell apart.

The front parking lot was completely full. Zack had to drive around to the back of the building and park along the outer edge of the rear lot, next to a large bush. On his other side was a pick-up truck that he soon realized was parked a little too close for comfort when he opened his door and tried to get out. Nothing collided, but it was a tight squeeze.

The inside of the hospital brought back a dizzying sequence of memories in Zack's mind. The white walls, the comings and goings of random people, the smell, the blue chairs where people sat and waited—all of it was nauseating. He had to remind himself continuously to stay calm and act casual. It wouldn't do any good for him to have a fainting spell—or something else of the like—right then and there. His parents already had one son to worry about. They sure as hell didn't need to worry about the other.

Slowly, Zack walked up to the front desk in the room he'd stepped inside (it wasn't the front lobby because he'd went in through the back of the building). There was a girl sitting behind it—a young girl who looked as though she'd barely gotten out of high school. She had reddish-blonde hair that was tied into a sloppy bun, and an angular face peppered with freckles; her eyes were a deep green and she had a stud going through her bottom lip. Her attention was focused intently on an opened notebook that she had on the desk in front of her, and she was mindlessly chewing on a wad of bubble gum as she read its contents. When Zack approached her and said "Excuse me, miss?" she flashed an annoyed look in his direction that instantly vanished once she actually saw him.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked. Then quietly added, "Please?"

"I need to see someone," Zack told her matter-of-factly. "A Dr. Maps?"

"What business do you have with him?"

"He was my brother's doctor," Zack didn't feel comfortable talking about this. Least of all, to a young girl he just met. But he reasoned that he had to if he wanted to see Dr. Maps. They didn't drag doctors out of their schedules for nothing. "My brother had surgery recently, and he was in charge of it. I really, really need to see him. It's important."

The girl turned from him to a computer that was situated on the right-hand side of the desk, next to her notebook, and typed something into it. She was a really fast typist.

Probably got a lot of practice from texting, Zack thought to himself, but he didn't say anything.

Her eyes scanned over whatever was on the screen, and then looked back at him. "He's with a patient right now and he won't be free for another hour or so. You want to wait that long?"

Zack nodded. "I'll wait as long as I have to," he replied firmly. He wasn't leaving until he got to see Dr. Maps; he'd already made his mind up about that.

"Well okay, then." The girl pointed over to a row of chairs behind him that were up against the far wall. "Have a seat and I'll let him know that you're here to see him. By the way, what's your name?"

"Zack Martin."

The girl grinned dreamily. Her eyes took him in. "That's a nice name," she said sweetly. "Zack Martin." She repeated it slowly, making it sound sophisticated.

"Yeah," Zack told her simply. "Zack Martin. That's me. Please don't forget to tell Dr. Maps about me."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "I won't, I promise." Then, unexpectedly, she grinned mischievously at him and gradually leaned over the table, blowing a giant bubble directly in front of his face. Zack bent his head back, flabbergasted, but she pushed herself even closer to him. "Ya know," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, "Now that I think of it, an hour is a long time to spend just sitting. If you're going to be hanging around here for that long, I could keep you company. You and me—we could go into the file room right down the hall and have ourselves some fun. No one ever goes in there, and I've got the keys. I could lock the door and we could be really quiet. Nobody'll ever know, I swear." She touched her index finger to his chest and seductively ran it down his stomach, stopping when it grazed the button on his jeans.

Zack stepped back, out of her reach. "Are you crazy?" he gasped.

"Quite possibly," the girl said gleefully. She blew another bubble with her gum. "More importantly, I'm totally turned on right now. By you." She rested her chin upon the palm of her hand and slightly tilted her head, putting on an adorable, innocent pose. "I think you're hot."

She's…blunt. I supposed that's the right word to describe her.

"And I wanna fuck you. Now."

Definitely blunt. Zack stared at her for a long moment. This was certainly unexpected, to say the least. Zack didn't know what to do. Doing what she wanted was out of the question, of course; there was no way in hell that he was going to do that. But even so, what was he supposed to do? Despite how much he chased after girls when he was younger (which he did quite frequently), and hopelessly wished for some of them to show an interest in him, he was completely thrown off guard by this. He'd never had a girl he didn't even know the name of come on to him like this. It was bizarre. Finally, he opted to laugh. And so that's what he did. He looked at the girl seriously for a while and then burst out laughing in her face. He didn't know what possessed him to do that. It wasn't like this was funny, exactly. He just did it because he could.

The girl, totally confused by his choice of action, laughed too…mostly because she didn't know how else to react. What do you do when you come on to someone, and that someone just laughs at you? Do you cry? Do you get angry? Or do you laugh too? She chose to laugh too, and so both of them just laughed together. They laughed for longer than they thought was necessary. People began to stare at them and whisper amongst themselves, marveling at what could be so funny. Oddly enough, even they didn't know. What they were laughing at, neither of them had any clue. They only knew that they couldn't help themselves. Laughter is rather addictive; once you start, it can be very difficult to stop. Even if you don't know why you started in the first place.

Part of the reason why Zack couldn't stop was because this was the first time he'd laughed in a long time. The first time in days. In well over a week. It was the first time he'd heard so much as a chuckle come out of his mouth since he'd almost lost his brother. And as soon as he heard it, he wanted it more. He was desperate for it. Before Cody's incident, he'd been a happy person—a jokester. But worry and heartbreak—not to mention the creation of the "new" Zack—had destroyed all of that. Laughter seemed to be a distant memory to him. A ghost in his closet. Zack even got to the point where he couldn't remember what his laugh sounded like. A side of him had died—or perhaps had become dormant—and, for a while, there was nothing he could do to revive it. He didn't realize how much he missed that side of him until he allowed himself to let it out. It was for a foolish reason, he was well aware of that. But he didn't care. At least he got to see it again.

Eventually, he did stop laughing though. He remembered his purpose for coming there and felt guilty. You're here for your brother's sake, he told himself disdainfully. That's it. You're here to get Dr. Maps to have Cody released and that's no laughing matter.

Seeing that he had stopped laughing, the girl stopped also. However, that devious smile did not go away. "So," she urged, "what do you say? To the file room?"

"No, thanks," Zack told her. "I'm just going to take a seat in one of those blue chairs over there and wait."

The girl was disappointed. "What? Why not?"

"Because I don't know you…and I think you're crazy."

The girl crossed her arms, her lips turning downward into a pouting face. "Why do people think it's crazy for a girl to want to fuck a guy, but when a guy wants to fuck a girl, it's perfectly fine? If she wants it, she's neurotic or pushy, but if he wants it, he's king of the fucking world."

Zack didn't answer. Personally, he thought it was crazy for anyone—regardless of sex—to want to get that intimate with a complete stranger.

Finally, the girl just waved him away. "Just go," she demanded. "Have a seat and I'll contact Dr. Maps."

"Thank you," Zack told her. Then he turned around, found an empty blue chair, and sat down.

…………

It was over an hour before Dr. Maps came strolling into the room that Zack had been waiting in. He was still wearing his latex gloves and his appearance was less than comforting. He had dark rings under his eyes and his auburn hair was somewhat matted; he looked as though he'd been working all night.

Maybe he has, Zack mentally stated. Initially, Zack's plan had been to give this doctor a piece of his mind. He was prepared to shout, and to curse, and to make commands if he had to. But seeing this man so weary now rendered that plan impossible. "Dr. Maps, I presume?" Zack said, standing up to face him. He only said that as a formality; he knew full well that this man was Dr. Maps. He recognized him.

Dr. Maps diligently removed his latex gloves and tossed them into the nearest trash can, which happened to be next to the front desk. Then he came towards Zack and extended his hand. Zack took it, forcing himself to smile. Even though he'd been laughing earlier, seeing Dr. Maps made smiling almost hurt. It brought back memories that stabbed at his unhealed wounds.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Martin," Dr. Maps greeted.

"So you do remember me?" Zack figured it was a good idea to make absolutely sure that they were on the same page. That way, any needless confusion could be avoided.

"Of course," Dr. Maps replied, a little offended.

"Sorry, but I didn't know if you'd be able to recognize me. I reckon you see a lot of new faces…on a daily basis."

"I do, but I'd never forget you. Your brother was my miracle patient."

"Miracle patient?"

"Yes. He flat-lined in the ER and didn't wake up until we'd already declared him dead. Typically when a patient dies, they stay that way. Not your brother though. Deep down, he must have wanted to live."

Zack's throat closed and his stomach tingled as flashbacks of sitting in a waiting room, listening to his mother cry and his father comfort and his own heart scream, popped into his mind. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't think about that. Don't think about what could have happened. Think about what did happen. He woke up. That's what matters in the end—the fact that he did wake up. Zack wanted to speak. He wanted to tell Dr. Maps that he hoped, with every piece of his heart and soul, that he was right. That Cody really did want to live, on some subconscious level. But he couldn't. His throat wouldn't open up; any words that managed to come out of him would have been broken, and very likely inaudible.

"You know what's interesting?" Dr. Maps continued. He had this distant look on his face—as though he was deep in thought. "I never believed in miracles until your brother came along. I've been working here a long time, and I've seen some pretty amazing things. I've seen some close calls. But what happened with your brother…I have never seen anything like that before. That was beyond words."

Zack swallowed, regaining his speaking ability. "I prayed for him," he said. He blurted it out before he could stop himself. "When I was in the waiting room, I wanted to do something…cause it was killing me that I couldn't do anything to help him, you know? I didn't want to just sit there and wait. So I prayed. I've never really been religious. I don't go to church or anything. But I prayed anyway, just because I could…and just because it seemed like it was my only option. And, funny enough, right afterward that doctor—I forget her name—"

"Dr. Lee," Dr. Maps told him.

"Dr. Lee—she came to us and told us that he was alive. I'd never been so relieved in my life."

Zack gave Dr. Maps a quizzical expression. "Do you think God had something to do with it? Like, do you think that, maybe, he heard me?"

"I don't know," Dr. Maps answered. "I don't exactly believe in God. Just miracles. I think there may be some things in this world that we can't explain."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. During that moment, they stared at each other and tried to assess what the other was thinking. What the other believed. Then Dr. Maps shifted his eyes toward the door and asked, "Do you want to go outside? Today's a nice day and I've been cooped up in here for too many hours."

"Sure," Zack said. He hated the inside of that place anyway.

So they went outside and stood against the wall of the building, gazing out at the back parking lot, feeling the sunlight kiss their skin.

"How's your brother doing?" Dr. Maps seemed genuinely concerned about that.

Zack lowered his head. He did not want to admit this, but he had to because it was what he'd come there for. "Not good," he said sullenly. "I think he still wants to die. Or, at least, part of him does. I visited him yesterday and we talked about death."

"I don't think that was a very smart thing to do," Dr. Maps said in disapproval. "I'm no psychiatrist or anything, but I would think that when someone's depressed, talking about death wouldn't be too wise."

Zack felt a twinge of indignation over being cornered. "Speaking of things that aren't wise," he snapped, "Fairoaks isn't helping him. I think you made a mistake in sending him there."

"What makes you say that?" Dr. Maps wasn't bothered by Zack's tone. If anything, he was only curious as to what he meant.

"When I saw Cody, he looked terrible. He looked half-dead. I swear, they're not taking proper care of him. And I don't know how he's been treated. For all I know, they just keep him doped up all day and locked in a room the size of a jail cell."

Dr. Maps sucked in his upper lip, considering this. "Did he say anything about Fairoaks? Did he mention anything, specifically, that he didn't like?"

"Well, no, but…" Zack paused, unable to go on. He and Cody hadn't spoken about Fairoaks at all. Zack had automatically assumed that it was an awful place, judging by the looks of Cody, but that was all. They'd been too busy conversing—arguing, more like—about the appropriateness, or lack thereof, of suicide. And not to mention, Zack had been dealing with his old self and his new self trying to share the driver's seat of his mind. "I just know, okay?" That was the best response he could give. "Don't ask me how I know; just believe that I do. I know that place isn't good for him. I'm his brother. I know what he needs!"

"Fair enough," Dr. Maps gave in, respectfully. "Well, what would you say he needs?"

Zack didn't have to think before answering that question. "Me. He needs me. And our parents. And our friends. He needs the people who love him."

"I see." Suddenly, Dr. Maps looked doubtful. "And I suppose you came here to get me to have him released."

Zack folded his arms over his chest, willing to take the defense if he had to. "That's right," he said, in a challenging tone. "You put him there, you get him out."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Not by myself."

"Why not?" Now Zack's tone had a hint of a threat in it.

"He's in the custody of the Fairoaks staff. Only they have the power to release him."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why don't you? You're a doctor."

"Yes, but I'm not a psychiatrist. I only know the parts of the body. The state of the mind—that's not my field. That's their field. If they feel he's unable to rejoin society and resume life, no matter what I say, they'll keep him. So long as he's with them, he's their property."

"He's not property!" Zack retorted. "He's a human being!"

"I know, I know. Property was the wrong word. I'm sorry. It's just…what I meant was, he's under their supervision. The issue of whether or not he'll be released will be determined by their evaluation of him. By their judgment."

"But they don't know him! And he won't trust them! They won't get anything out of him!"

Dr. Maps gazed at Zack inquiringly. "Just out of curiosity, where is this coming from? Before he left this hospital, you seemed to think it was a good idea for him to go to Fairoaks. Why this change of opinion?"

Zack hesitated before replying. He wasn't entirely sure what had changed him. All he knew was that after he saw his little brother in Fairoaks, he'd been overcome with guilt. The image of him made his heart sink. Plus, before his visit, he'd missed him tremendously. He'd cried himself to sleep, and shouted at his father, and sent an email to his brother's ex-girlfriend—all because he'd been feeling vulnerable from the separation. Because he didn't know what to feel if his twin brother was not safe and secure. And because his emotions and his identity felt like they no longer belonged to him. "I sort of had an epiphany," he finally confessed. "During the time that he was gone, and when I saw him in that place, I thought about it…and I concluded that I'd been wrong. That we all had been wrong." His eyes met Dr. Maps' and held them steady. "I'm trying to fix that. I'm trying to undue our mistake."

Dr. Maps could see Zack's sincerity. He wasn't going to give up. He would do what he had to—whatever that was—to get Cody out of Fairoaks. "Alright," he articulated. "I'll tell you what. I won't make any promises, but I'll go over to Fairoaks on the next visiting day and talk to him. I'll check the place out myself. How's that?"

That wasn't the suggestion Zack had been hoping for. But he figured that it was the best he was going to get. He had to take this one step at a time, for he was dealing with people who had far more authority than he had. "Okay," he consented. "You do that."

They both shook hands. Then Zack decided it was time for him to go.