At long last, here is chapter 13! I meant to post it much sooner but I've been crazy busy these last couple of days, with papers and projects and exams coming at me constantly. I updated as soon as I could.

Just thought I'd go ahead and say, this chapter serves as the beginning of the story's climax, which is why it's so long. The story will be a spiral of fast-paced events from here to the end. And then a twist. :)

To avoid confusion, this chapter mentions Dr. Maps but his opinions about Fairoaks won't be revealed until the next chapter. Sorry to make you all wait, but this chapter is long enough as it is.

Enjoy! And please review!

It was surprisingly easy to lose track of time at Fairoaks Asylum. A week had managed to slip by without Cody even noticing. He had to admit, it was mostly due to George and his endless string of dirty jokes. After five days of listening to them, Cody concluded that he had heard well over fifty. Some were short, some were long; some were about sex, some were just about genitals. Some made fun of women, and some made fun of men. Some were clever—actually most were pretty clever; but there were a handful of them that were ridiculous. Cody had never heard so much perversion in his life. There was one about a catholic priest and a little boy that he thought was on the verge of taking it too far. Cody didn't laugh much at that one. In fact, after a while he pretty much stopped laughing all together. Once you've heard about all the dirty jokes you can take, they wear out their welcome. Cody tried to compliment them with some other jokes. Nerd jokes mostly, and a political joke every now and then. Something to clean George's mind a little. Majority of the time, though, it didn't work.

And I thought Zack was bad, Cody thought to himself one day after George told a particularly gross one. Zack had definitely been a fan of dirty humor. He probably would have liked George if he met him. But even Zack would not have been able to handle this much. Cody was tempted to ask George if dirty jokes were the only kind of jokes he knew. Judging by what he knew of George's past, he assumed they were.

Aside from George and his filthy humor, there was also Doris. The poor girl was noticeably getting worse, day by day. She complained at lunch time about how her life was not worth living, and how God despised her, and how she wished she had never been born. Cody did what he could to comfort her, but it was never a success. Eventually he got to the point where he was considering moving to a different table and not talking to her at all. He couldn't stand it any longer. He liked Doris, he couldn't deny that. She was sweet and sympathetic to him, and he appreciated that. Every time he saw her, though, he felt dismal. She was constantly having crying fits where she would be sitting next to Cody, staring blankly at her tray of food, and then suddenly burst into tears and sob uncontrollably. She once even began muttering to herself. She had pressed the bottom of her palm against her forehead and mumbled the word "fuck" repeatedly, in a steady procession. It was difficult to make out with the noise from all the other patients in the cafeteria, but Cody could hear it. It was almost like a relaxing mantra, despite its vulgarity: "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" He didn't know what was to become of her. Despite his resentment towards the faculty at Fairoaks, part of him thought it a good idea to go to them and have them try to console her.

And then there was the drama. The endless soap opera that was Fairoaks. Within the first week, Cody had seen more commotion than one usually saw on TV. One patient had tried to run away during the time they were let outside. A nurse spotted him turning a corner along the street that went from Fairoaks into the neighboring town, and she had called for help. An emergency van was sent out and the man was brought back in restraints. That wasn't too surprising; nobody could get very far on foot. More terrifying than that was a fight that broke out in the shower room, when an irate boy knocked another boy's front teeth out and slammed his head against a wall, giving him a concussion. The attacker was injected with a sedative, and once he was lying on the floor unconscious, three nurses wheeled in a stretcher and placed him on it. They placed the victim on a stretcher too, and both were wheeled away. The fight had shaken up several of the on-looking patients, including Cody, and a group of nurses were called in to go about and comfort them. Some of the patients wanted to leave without taking a shower. But, of course, they couldn't do that. Showers were mandatory.

There was also an incident where a girl took off her shirt and bra while she was in the restroom and then ran down the hallway of Rosenberg Hall, topless and screaming like a banshee. She was running fairly fast, so the nurses had a heck of a time trying to chase her down and get her clothed again. When they caught her and asked her why she did that, she said she couldn't remember. They went into the restroom to search for her shirt and bra, and found them both crammed into one of the toilets, sopping wet. Cody had been on his way to the restroom himself when he saw that happen. Jenny was walking with him, as his escort, when the girl darted past them in a wild frenzy, not bothered in the slightest by their presence. Jenny had turned to Cody with an embarrassed expression on her face and said, "Just pretend you didn't see that."

"Sure thing," Cody had replied. Yeah right, he thought.

There were more incidences too. Screaming matches, crying fits (some far worse than Doris'), hitting, hallucinations, running, even heated arguments between nurses. All of that mayhem happened within just a seven-day period, and all of it had kept Cody's mind occupied while time was going by.

Before he knew it, he was being taken back to Dr. Thompson's office for another session.

Dr. Thompson looked a little out of sorts when Cody saw him. He was pacing back and forth when Cody entered the room, and after he sat down, he continuously tapped his fingers on the surface of his desk, drumming them rhythmically. He did that for two or three consecutive minutes, before flipping through some of the scribbled-on pages of his steno notebook. He made swift glances in Cody's direction to let him know that he was aware of his presence.

Cody didn't have to be a psychologist—or any kind of professional "ologist"—to know that the doctor was stressing over something. He was tremendously curious, but decided it best to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he directed his attention toward a buzzing sound that was coming from the office's window. When he looked there, he saw a small wasp fluttering against the glass, repetitively ramming itself into it. "There's a wasp in here," he said. He thought it was a good idea to make sure Dr. Thompson knew about it. That is, if he didn't already.

"I am aware," Dr. Thompson replied gruffly.

"Aren't you going to kill it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Dr. Thompson looked up at Cody with aggravation in his eyes. "Because I don't want to."

"What if it stings me?" Cody asked, unwilling to let the subject be. "I'm allergic, you know." Truthfully, Cody wasn't sure of that. He'd been taken to a doctor once when he was younger for a sting, but he had not been stung by a wasp. He had been stung by a hornet. His skin had swelled and turned bright red, and the doctor swore that he was allergic and needed attention. When Cody was taken to a second doctor, however, he was told that he was not allergic. And within a day, the swelling and the redness had both gone down anyway, so he never found out for certain.

But he wanted to tell Dr. Thompson that he was, if only to see how he would react.

Will he do something to accommodate me?

Dr. Thompson made no attempt to move. "I'm sure if we leave it alone, it will leave us alone."

Cody decided not to venture any further with that. He shifted his focus to Dr. Thompson's desk, which was notably cleaner than the last time he saw it. There weren't as many papers piled all over the surface, and Cody actually saw spots of mahogany peering through the remaining clusters of white sheets. "I see you've cleaned your desk," he commented.

"Yes," Dr. Thompson responded. "I recently had to throw away some old papers." He picked up his ever-present red pen and marked something out on his notepad. Cody caught a glimpse of the contents that were written there; he thought it was somewhat peculiar how Dr. Thompson felt it prudent to scratch out something that appeared to already be chicken scratch.

"Old papers about what?" Cody pried. "Patients?" He really didn't care to know, honestly. He just wanted to keep Dr. Thompson participating in a discussion. Even if it was pointless.

He didn't know why he wanted that, but he did.

"That's none of your concern," Dr. Thompson told him crossly, without even lifting his eyes from the paper.

Cody sat in silence for a minute, shaking his leg to prevent the boredom from bothering him too much. Finally he asked, "Are we just going to sit here like this the whole time?"

"No," Dr. Thompson said. "I will be with you in a moment. I just need to finish some very important business here."

Oh sure, doctor. Scratching out chicken scratch. Very important business.

Another minute drifted by, followed by half of yet another. Then, at last, Dr. Thompson flipped to an empty page in his notebook and faced Cody. "Alright," he said. "Let's talk. Providing you want to, of course."

Cody already knew what he was going to say. "I want to."

"Excellent!" Dr. Thompson seemed to brighten up a bit. "By all means, start wherever you want. You have the floor."

Cody had no intention of discussing his issues. It was clear that Dr. Thompson expected him to, but as far as Cody was concerned, the good doctor would have to deal with disappointment because that was not where he was headed at all. The night previously, Cody had been thinking about Zack's visit and how it had ended, which in turn had led to his thinking about his childhood. He remembered something from his second grade year of school, before he and his family had moved to Boston and he was attending an elementary school in Seattle. That something was a short story he had been told by a teacher. A teacher who'd been rather daring, and willing to try the rules. As soon as he remembered it, he promised himself that he would tell it to Dr. Thompson.

He thought Dr. Thompson needed to hear it.

"I want to tell you a story," he said. Instantly, the doctor's expression changed from one of joy to one of surprise. "Just a little, short story," Cody assured him. "One with morals."

Dr. Thompson decided to go with it, clearly banking on the possibility that the story would be about Cody's past. "Okay. Go ahead," he encouraged.

"This bird is flying south for the winter," Cody began, "and it's really cold out. It's windy and flurrying, and all the grass is covered in white. It's so cold, in fact, that the bird eventually freezes and falls to the ground. He's not dead, but he's unable to fly. He scampers around, looking for an abandoned burrow to hide in, but he can't find any. He gives up and lies down and decides that he's going to die. Just then, this cow comes over to him. The bird thinks the cow might step on him, but it doesn't. It doesn't even see him. Instead, it lifts up its tail and shits. Some of the shit lands on the bird, and the bird's grossed out by it."

Dr. Thompson grimaced.

"But later on, after the cow has walked away, the bird starts to realize that he's getting warmer. The shit is thawing him out. He realizes now that he doesn't have to die anymore. Sure, he might stink and be filthy, but that's a small price to pay for living. He's so happy about this that he starts to sing. He sings so loudly that a cat hears him and comes over. The cat is hungry, so it digs him out of the shit pile and then eats him. The bird dies horribly and painfully in the cat's mouth."

"That's awful," Dr. Thompson declared. "What's the moral?"

Cody looked at him matter-of-factly. "Not everyone who gives you shit is your enemy, and not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend. And when you're in shit, it's best to just keep your mouth shut and endure."

Cody felt the urge to giggle. And Dr. Thompson's face added to the intensity of that urge. His lips were puckered in disapproval and his eyebrows were furrowed.

"Well?" Cody asked.

Dr. Thompson sucked in his lower lip, contemplating before speaking. When he did speak, his voice was steady but Cody could easily notice the impatience within it. "I would love to know why you thought it necessary to tell me that story."

"Isn't it obvious?" Cody mused, smiling in enjoyment. "It's a representation of all that's happening to me."

Dr. Thompson gazed at Cody in befuddlement.

"I nearly froze to death, Dr. Thompson. Or at least, that's how I feel. And I think I might be thawing out. The shit, believe it or not, is everything that's bringing me back to life. But I have to keep my mouth shut and endure, or the cat will come. And the cat represents…" Cody paused mid-sentence.

Well, I think you can figure out for yourself what the cat represents.

Dr. Thompson was not pleased at all. "Where did this story come from?" he wanted to know. His voice was even more irritated.

"I heard it a long time ago, when I was in the second grade. A teacher told it to his class. I was thinking about it last night, and wanted to tell you."

"I see," was all Dr. Thompson said in response. Then he bent over and scribbled something illegible in his notebook. When he sat back up, he huffed. He was dreadfully out of shape. He wasn't the heaviest man Cody had ever seen but just slightly bending over his desk nearly rendered him breathless. He was in desperate need of exercise. And some sunshine. His pale skin appeared ghostly and unnatural.

"You should really consider going outside sometime, Dr. Thompson," Cody remarked. "It'd be good for you. You look like you could use some vitamin D." And some burnt calories.

"Thank you for taking an interest in my well-being, Mr. Martin," Dr. Thompson said, more resentfully than Cody would have liked. "But I'm afraid my schedule is far too booked for me to leave my office."

"How many times do you actually leave your office, doctor?" Cody was quite curious about that. "Like, today, how many times have you left?"

"I don't see how that is relevant to this session," Dr. Thompson said seriously. "Or how it is any of your personal business."

Cody shrugged. "Mankind is my business, Dr. Thompson."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that if I see someone who needs help, I'll try to help them."

Dr. Thompson looked at Cody incredulously. "You think I need help?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I do."

"How so?"

"You don't live a very healthy life, doctor. That's dangerous. It's important to take care of yourself before you try to take care of others. I think that's your problem. You're always trying to help everyone else, when you don't seem to realize that you won't be able to do that without helping yourself first."

Dr. Thompson's eyes widened skeptically for a moment, and then he bent over once again to do more scribbling.

"So what do you say?" Cody continued. "You want to go outside and get in touch with the world or just sit here and be miserable for the rest of the day?"

When Dr. Thompson looked up again, his eyes stared at Cody patronizingly. "You're talking to me about being miserable?" he scoffed. "Me? You're talking to me about needing help? This coming from the boy who shot himself in his own brother's bedroom?"

Cody shrugged again. "I know some things about life, doctor. I may be crazy, but I know I'm intelligent."

"Impulsively committing suicide over some girl is hardly intelligent, Mr. Martin. Intelligent people think before they act."

"Oh, I thought about killing myself before I actually tried to. It wasn't on impulse at all." Cody recalled how he had contemplated for weeks about the details of his death—when it was going to happen, where it was going to happen, how it was going to be carried out, and so on. Zack's house had seemed like his best bet as for the place because he'd wanted so badly to tell Zack how right he'd been about Brianna (the name still tasted like bile in his mouth). Plus, even more so than that, he wanted to promise Zack that he loved him. All throughout his childhood and adolescence, the words "I love you" rarely came out of his mouth when he was speaking to Zack. In all truthfulness, "I hate you" had been far more prevalent. But they hadn't been the truth. Many words that Cody said had not been the truth. After what went down with Brianna, and whatever else had driven him over the edge, nothing felt truthful anymore. Nothing felt sane, or worthwhile. That's why he'd decided to end it. All of it. He'd been exhausted and in pain, and tired of not being able to smile anymore because it hurt to curve his lips. It made perfect sense to him to take himself out of a world where he had to live like that. But he felt he had to tell Zack the truth—the only truth he knew of that still existed—that he loved him. That is why he'd chosen to come back to Boston to kill himself rather than doing it in Connecticut. He'd wanted to say those lonely truthful words to Zack. Even if they were the last thing he said on this earth.

Cody thought it was slightly amusing how, even when he was preparing to leave his brother for good, he'd been determined to ensure him of his love. It may not have been a plausible thing to do in many ways, but at that time he thought it seemed like his most brilliant idea. "I'd had it planned for weeks."

Dr. Thompson instantly dropped his patronizing stare and replaced it with one of deep interest. "Weeks?"

"Yeah. I had everything worked out in my head. I was going to go to Zack's house, stay with him for a little while—and by a while, I mean like a day—tell him what happened, and then when he went to work…" Cody pressed his index and middle fingers to his temple to represent a pistol, "…bang."

"Just like that, eh?"

"Yep." Then Cody thought again. "Only, it was more like this." He transferred his fingers from his temple to his chest. "Bang."

"Ah, yes." Dr. Thompson was clearly pleased. Not by the context of what they were talking about but by the fact that Cody was actually cracking the shell that was guarding his insides and revealing what had happened with his attempted suicide. Next topic, if all went smoothly: Cody's emotional issues. "Tell me, why did you choose the chest rather than the heart as your target? The heart, though fragile, is less susceptible to bullet damage. The head would have gotten the job done quicker."

"Don't I know it," Cody practically murmured.

"So why the chest? Why the heart instead of the brain?"

Cody didn't know how to answer this. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. He hadn't confessed this to anyone, and he was particularly less than thrilled at the notion of Dr. Thompson, of all people, knowing it before anyone else. Maybe I should tell Zack this. He's still sensitive, and he'll most likely not understand (of course he won't), but I'd rather tell him than this stick in the mud. "I need to talk to Zack," he said intensely.

Dr. Thompson was taken aback by the sudden change in subject. It was his job not to argue with his patients, but to counter them gently when they got out of line or requested something that they couldn't have. When he countered Cody, however, there was obvious agitation in his voice. "I'm afraid that's impossible for the time being. You'll have to wait until visiting day…which isn't that far off."

"Please, Dr. Thompson, I need to speak to him now."

"That is completely out of the question, Mr. Martin. I'm sorry, but you cannot see Zack at this point."

"Please, please, I'm begging you…please." Cody didn't know where it came from, but suddenly desperation possessed him. He was overcome with this sensation—irrevocable and forceful—of needing to see his brother. And he was willing to suggest anything to do it. "There's something important I need to tell him. If I could only make a quick phone call…"

"Mr. Martin…" Dr. Thompson's face was turning scarlet with anger. "As I said before, you cannot come in contact with Zack until visiting day. And I'm convinced there's nothing so important you must tell him that cannot wait until that time." He wiggled his fingers in between the collar of his shirt and his thick neck, as if adjusting the collar line even though it didn't need to be adjusted. "Why this sudden need to talk to him?" he wanted to know.

Because, doctor, he's my brother. And because he's Zack. And because he knows me in a way that no one else does. And because I love him more than anything on this earth…myself included. And because I hurt him and want him to know why. And because of a thousand other reasons that you could never begin to understand.

Cody looked downward, his eyes focusing on the recently cleaned desk top. "Don't worry about it," he muttered crestfallenly. He felt his throat close and tears form in the corners of his eyes. He had no idea where they came from, but they were there…as present as he was. "Can I just…leave?"

Dr. Thompson sat back against his seat and looked at him. Scrutinizing him. "Are you sure? You haven't been here very long."

"Yes, I'm sure." He was. As much as he hated being locked in his and George's room, he would rather be there than here, with Dr. Thompson.

"Well, alright then. If that's what you want." He dialed the extension on the phone, called a nurse, and within two minute's time, he was being hauled back to good old room 312.

…………

Bailey had never been to the Tipton hotel before, though she had heard well over a hundred stories about it. While she and Cody were dating during the Seven Seas High study abroad program, he had told her about some of the things he and Zack used to do together as kids while they lived there. Most of it was mischievous and got them into heaps of trouble, but they nevertheless gave him some good stories to tell. He quite enjoyed walking down memory lane with her. His childhood was not a conventional one, after all. How many other kids spent a good portion of their lives living in a luxurious hotel? That, in and of itself, was something to tell people.

Bailey used to say she wished she could go there one day. Cody had shown her pictures of the building—ones he'd taken and ones on the internet; he'd also went to YouTube and managed to show her a commercial for it that he, his brother, his mom, and several of the hotel staff had been in to promote it. Bailey was ecstatic. "I can't believe you were actually in a commercial," she'd said in astonishment. "That is just unbelievable. Over half the people in Kettlecorn don't even have TVs."

Cody would tell Zack what Bailey thought about the stories he told her—the little fortunate (or not so fortunate) circumstances that they'd managed to fall into while living and creating chaos at the Tipton. Zack had milked it for everything it was worth. He had a knack for flaunting things; it was part of his nature. He'd even planned out how he was going to act if Bailey ever came to the Tipton. Suave. Charming. Like he owned the place.

But he didn't act that way at all when he saw her. He was nervous and edgy, and holding back fresh tears because her face—even though she looked different with shorter hair—brought back a flood of memories. Memories of Cody being happy, and naïve, and in love. Memories of him loving life and relentlessly spouting off all his dreams and achievements.

Moments that Zack would have given anything to restore.

He hugged her, told her he'd missed her, and thanked her for coming. And then he offered to give her a small tour of the hotel's main areas (obviously, with how huge the hotel was, a more extensive tour was out of the question). He'd had it in mind for years to show her the exquisite dining room and lounge, where his mom sang, and the den where Arwin Hawkhauser—an old friend of his and the hotel's previous engineer—had lived. But she politely declined and said she'd prefer it if he just took her up to his suite and allowed her to unpack. So that's what they did.

Of course, not before Mr. Moseby approached her and hugged her as well, and Carey shook her hand in welcoming.

Considering the situation, Bailey did not particularly feel welcome. In fact, she suddenly felt as though she was intruding on something private and exclusive. She had come for the sake of Cody, but part of her was second-guessing that choice. It wasn't like she had any real connection with Cody anymore. She barely even knew what he was to her. A friend? Perhaps, but they lived so far apart from each other and didn't communicate much. Friends were supposed to keep in contact. To reassure each other of their company and support.

You care about Cody, though, she told herself honestly. Regardless of what he is to you, you know full well that you care about him. You cried yourself dry when you got Zack's email. You prayed and you denied, and you questioned and you swore. You love Cody. Plain and simple.

When Zack opened the door to room 2330, all Bailey did was walk inside and stand in the kitchen. Her eyes scanned her surroundings as her brain processed the idea that Zack and Cody had been raised here. This was where they came home from school; where they brought home girls; where they bickered and got grounded; where they played games and thought up schemes; where they woke up each morning, and where they slept. The gravity of that truth made her head spin and finally she had to sit down.

Zack sat next to her. "You want to talk?" he asked, showing her that he was there. For her. With her. That they were suffering together.

Bailey didn't know how to reply. She wanted to speak, yet she also wanted to keep quiet. There was a part of her that was fighting the urge to scream and yell, and throw herself to her knees in front of him; but there was another part—more sensible—that thought it best to decline Zack's offer and prolong the silence in order to think. In the end, she went with the more sensible one. "No thanks," she said. "Not yet." Then, sensing his disappointment, she added, "It was a long trip and I'm really tired. Would it be okay if I just took a nap for a while?"

"Sure," Zack granted. "Where would you like to sleep?"

"Anywhere is fine."

Since there was nowhere else to sleep, Zack gave her Cody's bed.

On visiting day, the butterflies were fluttering relentlessly in Zack's stomach. He was determined for this visit to not be like the last one. The last one had ended badly, with him walking out on his brother, the same way he had before his brother…no, he wasn't going to think about that. Thinking about that would only make his stomach hurt more, and it would make him angry. Or worse—bring out the new Zack, who he wanted to keep at bay. Especially now, when Bailey was going to accompany him.

Zack and Bailey, along with Kurt and Carey, all quietly got into Zack's car. An overwhelming sense of dread came over them, just as it had the last time. No one liked the awkward silence, but at the same time, no one knew what to say.

What's Bailey going to think when she sees Cody? thought Zack in trepidation. He remembered how Cody had looked the last time he saw him, with his sunken eyes, pallid skin, and messy hair. He'd looked terrible, to say the least. Abused. If not physically, than mentally. Abandoned. Bailey had never seen him like that. She knew Cody as the bright-eyed intelligent boy, brimming with confidence and a never-ending string of future plans. Perhaps she shouldn't go. Zack wasn't so sure if he liked the idea of Bailey seeing Cody. He knew that it was a done deal; she was going to see him no matter what—but he couldn't shake this sudden feeling of regret. Regret that she would soon lose that image of who he was in the past.

Zack knew what it felt like to lose that image, and he couldn't imagine that kind of trauma for Bailey.

Oh well, he speculated. Too late now. Bailey won't stop until she sees him at least once. She even said in her email that she would break down the building door if she had to.

…………

Shortly following his fruitless session with Dr. Thompson, Cody awaited visiting day. As he expected, a nurse came to get him during visiting hours and led him to the visiting room. When she sat him down at the mahogany desk, she told him that he had more visitors this time than he had last time. More? thought Cody. He couldn't remember ever being this popular outside of Fairoaks. Then again, the people who came to see him were those who were emotionally distressed and worried, and determined to make sure that he knew they loved him.

He wondered who the other visitor—or visitors—could be. He spent a good fifteen minutes in solitude, mulling over the possibilities. Maybe it's Max. Or Tapeworm. Or Maddie. Or maybe it's Mr. Moseby. Or, heck, even London.

He never once considered that it would be Bailey.

He stood up when he saw her, standing next to his parents and twin brother in the doorway. He remembered that Zack had told her about what he'd done, but he never once had suspected her to be there, at that moment…gazing at him as though her mind had gone blank

His parents and brother went through the usual sequence of actions—the hugging, the kissing, the crying, and the endless repetition of muttered "I love yous." This time, Zack joined in with their mom and dad, and it was Bailey who hung back and waited patiently for her turn. When Cody's family had backed away and gave it to her, she did nothing. Zack glanced at her awkwardly, and when she made no attempt to move, he prompted her. "Why don't you talk to him? You're his friend."

She still did notknow what she was going to say, but she abided by his suggestion and approached Cody. For a long moment, they just stared, their breathing falling in sync with each other. Cody could tell by Bailey's expression that she was searching for the appropriate words to say, given where they were and why they were there. And she was noticeably not succeeding.

Cody tried to make her feel more at ease by smiling. "Hey…Bailey," he said softly.

Finally, Bailey decided that the best way to greet him in this situation was not through words, but through physical action.

So she raised her arm, held it back, and then slapped him across the face. Hard. Cody's head turned to the side, a red mark immediately forming on his cheek. He didn't contradict her, or swear at her, or call her any fowl names that might have been used at his defense. He didn't even ask why she did it. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly on the tiled floor and remained silent.

His family members, however, weren't so forgiving. "Bailey!" Carey exclaimed. "You had no right to do that!"

"Bailey, I know you're upset," Kurt began, "but that doesn't mean you can just—" He didn't get to finish.

"What the hell was that?" Zack spat in anger. He looked at his brother. "Cody, man, I'm sorry. She's just pissed, okay? Don't mind her. She's just upset."

"It's okay, guys," Cody said calmly in return, his focus still on the floor. "I deserved it."

"Damn right you did!" Bailey retorted.

"Alright, I think that's enough," declared Zack. He took Bailey by the arm and pulled her toward the door. "Bailey, mind stepping out into the hall with me?"

Bailey tried to yank her arm out of his grasp but when he would not let her go, she gave up and allowed him to lead her out of the visiting room and into the bare, white-walled hallway. "I can't believe you!" he yelled. "What were you thinking?"

Bailey looked at him guiltily, and then shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I wasn't," she replied.

"Wasn't what?"

"Thinking."

Zack took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if emailing Bailey about this mess in the first place had been such a good idea. "You know," he told her matter-of-factly, "when you replied to my email and said you wanted to see Cody, I thought it would be a good thing. I thought having you here would help matters. And you know why that was?"

Bailey didn't answer but looked at him with regret in her eyes.

"Because he needs all the support he can get, and I thought you were going to give him that. Not go all violent! Jesus Christ, Bailey!"

"I'm sorry," Bailey said. "It wasn't my intention to do that." When Zack gave her a doubtful expression, she hastened to explain: "When I came here, all I could think about was seeing Cody. All I could keep my mind on was how I could make him get better…make him happier."

"Well you sure as fuck ruined that now, didn't you?"

Bailey shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Yeah, I did. It's just…when I actually saw him, everything I had planned to say…all of it…just disappeared. And the only thing that was left was rage. I had this urge to make him feel what he did to us. Or, at least, what he did to me."

Her words shot a streak of fear into Zack's gut. The fear of insight, spurred by the fact that they mirrored the mindset of the "new" Zack—the Zack who, if in charge at that moment, would have instantly agreed with her. Perhaps he would even have offered to go into the room and give Cody another slap, just for good measure. Good thing the old Zack is leading, he reasoned. The "new" Zack is monstrous. "And did that slap do the trick?" he questioned, hiding his inner turmoil.

"No…it didn't. It was a horrible thing to do. I shouldn't have done it. If you're okay with it, I want to go back in and say I'm sorry to him."

Zack seemed less than enthusiastic. His instincts were telling him not to let her back in there, for fear that she would let her rage get the best of her again. But his judgment was telling him that Bailey should be permitted a second chance. Besides, it made sense that she apologize for her behavior.

He sided with his judgment. "Well, okay, but…try to control yourself. I'm angry too. More than you could imagine. But Cody doesn't need our criticisms, or our anger. He needs our love. Show him you love him."

Bailey nodded.

When they came back in, Carey and Kurt were wary of Bailey. But she assured them that all she wanted to do was apologize.

Carey crossed her arms. "Well, I hope that apology is for all of us," she said crossly.

"It is," Bailey replied. "I'm sorry. So sorry… for what I did. It was wrong, uncalled for, and…Cody didn't deserve it."

Cody's eyes met hers. "It's okay."

Carey's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, but she let it slide.

"Cody," Bailey went on, her voice cracking, "I love you. I really do. When I heard about what you…what happened…I was devastated. I didn't understand. Could you please explain it to me?" A tear streaked her face and her additional "please" escaped her lips as a stifled sob.

Cody sighed. He knew she was going to ask this. This was what everyone wanted to know. He sat back down in his chair and contemplated how he was going to answer. "I hated life," he said.

"That's it?" Bailey scoffed, another tear sliding down her cheek. "You hated life? That's why you tried to leave us?"

Cody shook his head, frustrated. "That's not it. Life was… a joke. It was a joke. It wasn't real anymore."

Carey bent over and touched her fingers to his hair. "Baby, what do you mean life was a joke?" she asked. "That doesn't make any sense. Is it because of what happened with your girlfriend? Britney, was it?"

"Her name wasn't Britney; it was Brianna." Cody swallowed hard. The name was poison to him. "She cheated on me, and then dumped me…and I realized that love was worthless. And if love is worthless, that means everything is worthless. Life is a joke—all of it. It's stupid. They say God created everything. I think he's having a laughing spree at all this because it's so sad that it's fucking hilarious. Life…it's not just any kind of joke, either. It's like a bar room joke, and its punch line is pain. No matter what we do—no matter how hard we try, how positive we stay—we end up hurt. We all go six feet under anyway. So I figured, why wait? Death can't be so bad. It's just the opposite of life, right? I thought that maybe, if there was an afterlife, I could find out what all of it meant…what I meant."

"But then it'd be too late!" Bailey was openly crying now.

Carey had wrapped her arms around Cody's shoulders and had her face pressed against the crook of his neck. "Oh Cody, you're not worthless." she muttered. "Life's not a joke."

Cody paid her little mind. His eyes scanned the room around him, going from Bailey's pitiful image, to that of his brother, who was leaning against the far wall with arms crossed over his chest and an indignant expression on his face. Cody didn't know this, but the new Zack was crawling to the surface within him and the old was desperately trying to hold him down. The old Zack was fierce, but the new was crazed and stronger. Cody waited for him to say something. And Zack was fully aware of that, so he did. "That's bullshit, bro," he said. "You and I both know that. This had nothing to do with that bitch. You didn't blow your chest out because of some fucking whore who couldn't appreciate you. I know you better—"

"Zack, don't!" Kurt warned. "Not here. Not now."

"Then when?" Zack spat at him. "When?"

Kurt struggled with his reply. "When…things are…better."

"Better?" Zack repeated incredulously. "Better? Dad, things aren't going to get 'better' until we stop kidding ourselves and actually say what's on our minds!"

"Zack, please don't do this again!" Kurt begged.

"Again?" Cody asked.

Carey lifted her head up from Cody's shoulder and answered him. "Not long ago, your father and Zack got into an argument. Zack went…ballistic."

"I was just speaking the truth!" Zack told her severely.

"Guys, stop it!" Bailey cried. "Just stop it. Let's not waste our visit."

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "Let's not. We only get to come here once a week. Let's try and make the best of it."

Zack sucked in a breath and composed himself. He knew what he needed to say, but he wanted to say it the right way…with the old Zack fully in charge. The real Zack. "Cody…" he started gently, "bro, I know that Brianna was not the only reason you tried to kill yourself…"

Everyone, except Cody, collectively winced at the last part.

Zack continued. "I know it, man. In my heart, I know. I know you better than anyone else ever could, because you're my twin. You and I—we have this connection. No one could ever understand it; heck, I'm not sure I do. But it's there and I can't deny it. I swear, it brought me home to you the day you shot yourself; I'd never been so happy to forget about work in my life…and that's coming from me. I'm grateful that I left those blueprints behind that day. I don't think it was a coincidence that it happened. I think something—maybe fate, maybe God—made that happen. They made it happen because you weren't supposed to die." Zack swallowed and took another breath. The old Zack was in the driver's seat completely, and he felt the urge to bowl over and cry until he couldn't cry anymore. But he refused to do that; he couldn't. "I never realized how strong our connection was until all of this. My chest hurts all the time, and I can't smile anymore. Nothing in the world looks beautiful like it used to. And…and now…now I know why that is."

Zack paused. Everyone around him listened intently.

"Because I can't exist without you. There is no me without you. There can't be because you're my other half."

Mentally, Zack added, and when your heart is split in two, so is mine. And I think that is why there are two people living inside me now.

He wasn't finished. This next part was the most important: "I want to help you, Codes. I want to make everything all good again, like it used to be. I don't know if I'll succeed, but I'm willing to try. I want to stop hurting; I want to be able to smile again. But I can't do this alone. Do you want me to hurt, Cody? Do you take pleasure in knowing that I'm in pain?"

Cody didn't have to think before answering. "Oh God, no. I love you, Zack."

"Okay, well, the only way to heal me is to help me help you. And to do that, you've got to tell me the truth. Tell me why you really wanted to die. I have to know that."

It took a long minute before Cody began to formulate an answer. He fumbled horribly with his words. "Zack, I…I just…you're just…I could never…"

Carey patted his back affectionately. "It's alright, sweetie. Just let it all out," she whispered.

But Cody couldn't do it. He fumbled and sputtered, and nothing sensible came out of him.

And then, as luck would have it, a nurse opened the door to the visiting room and told Cody's loved ones that their visiting time was up. When Zack asked if they could have another minute, she said no and ushered them out.

Zack, Bailey, Kurt, and Carey left the Fairoaks Asylum building with a mutual feeling of disappointment mixed with a twinge of triumph. The visit had not been pleasant in the least, but at the same time, they had a hunch that they could get somewhere with Cody, even if it took a while. What Zack said to him had touched them all, but it also made them realize that there was more to the situation than they knew. Zack had sensed it when no one else had a clue. With him, they could possibly cure Cody.

As they were making their way down to Zack's car, they saw a figure coming toward them from the parking lot. He was wearing black suit pants with a belt and a white collar-neck shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was carrying a binder under one arm, and when he saw Zack and the rest of the group he smiled at them. "Hi Zack," he said. "And Mr. and Mrs. Martin." Then he turned to Bailey. "And who is this lovely young lady? Is she your girlfriend, Zack?"

"No," replied Zack. "She's my brother's ex."

"Oh, I see." When he was close enough, he stuck out his hand in greeting and allowed her to take it.

"My name's Bailey," Bailey said. "Bailey Pickett."

"It's nice to meet you, Bailey Pickett. I'm Dr. Henry Maps. Cody's medical doctor, that is. I'm here to evaluate Fairoaks."