I must make a confession: I cut out a scene from this chapter—the scene where Zack gives the people of Fairoaks a piece of his mind. Originally, there was going to be a whole section dedicated to that, but the chapter was just getting too long so I deleted it. I apologize, but I think this chapter is lengthy enough as it is and I don't want my readers to have too much to absorb. Don't worry, though. Later on Zack will give a detailed (and accurate) explanation of all he did and said. :)

Also, here's something to look forward to: not in this chapter but in the next, the real reason behind Cody's attempted suicide will be revealed! That's right, our beloved Cody will reach his day of reckoning and his mystery will unravel! It was supposed to happen in the last chapter, but…well, this story is more complex than I thought it was going to be when I started writing it. :)

Btw, this chapter is mostly composed of conversations. However, each one of the conversations is necessary. Enjoy! And please let me know your thoughts! ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own The Suite Life series.

Everything was dark.

Cody no longer had any idea where he was, or what was happening to him. He felt as if he was drifting on a plane somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, and was unable to choose which one he wanted to embrace. This state of existence was all too familiar; Cody recognized it completely from when he was in the ER, right after his surgery. The disoriented thoughts. The sensation of floating in a dismembered mess. It was all so memorable.

And from somewhere in the distance—whether it was near or far, he could not tell—he heard voices.

"So what's the verdict?" asked a concerned female voice. "Do you think the Thorazine will have any further adverse effects?"

"At this point," replied a male voice that sounded like Dr. Maps, "I highly doubt it. I've checked and rechecked his heart multiple times. It looks like he's going to be okay."

"Good. Good. Thank goodness."

"I know."

"Yeah, poor kid. His body's been through a lot. For a while there, we almost lost him…just like we did last time. It's amazing he's still alive."

There was a long pause. Cody could feel someone's eyes on him, speculating. Wondering.

"I just can't believe this," the male voice finally said in disbelief. "And to think, I just saw him a few hours ago...at Fairoaks." The voice cracked a little at the word "Fairoaks," which cinched Cody's suspicion that it was Dr. Maps. It had to be. "He and I talked—we laughed together. He was happy for a while. And then all of a sudden, this happens. I just don't get it. If there's a God up there, he must love to torment me. There's just something about this boy—something different from my other patients. I don't know what it is, but I know it's special. He's special."

"You shouldn't think about it too much," the woman advised. "It's not healthy to do so."

Dr. Maps let out a laugh but it was noticeably laced with worry. "I just can't get over the irony of it. It's just too weird…strangely convenient, in a way."

"How so?"

"It's hard to explain."

Cody felt the staring eyes move away from him and land on something, or someone, else. Cody felt himself become suddenly more distanced. More secluded.

"Do you have any idea how he got sedated in the first place?" Dr. Maps wanted to know. "You'd think the people over there would at least know better than to inject Thorazine into a kid who's had heart surgery."

By "over there," Cody knew he meant Fairoaks.

"I contacted both the asylum and his parents," the woman answered. "They said he was in a fight. Apparently a predatory patient attacked one of the nurses—a Miss Jenny Kroft."

"Oh yeah," Dr. Maps said in acknowledgment. "Didn't you say she rode here with Cody in the ambulance?"

"Mm-hmm. She's over in the waiting room right now. I just got done talking to her. She said Cody saved her—that he pulled the guy off of her. She's been worried sick about him. Said she wants to see him whenever she can."

"That should be fine," Dr. Maps commented. "But what about the sedation?"

"Well, the nurse in charge of the other patient…" the woman's voice trailed off as Cody started to drop off into unconsciousness. He suddenly felt tired. Exhausted. In need of rejuvenation. He wanted to sleep.

And so he did. He slept long and hard as his body recovered.

Everything was still dark, but he didn't care.

…

Zack parked his car behind the entranceway of Fairoaks Asylum. He knew he wasn't supposed to do that, but he couldn't care less. He had no intention of walking the distance between the parking lot and the main building, and he wasn't going to (even if it meant getting towed); his plan was just to get in, give the idiots who worked there a piece of his mind, and then get out so he could go see Cody. The less walking he had to do, the better. Part of him was unsure of what he was doing, and he didn't want that part of him to take over and turn him around. He wanted to stay strong—to remain bent on his resolve. Of course, he knew that seeing Cody wasn't necessarily an option, despite how much he craved it to be. After doing what he was about to do, God only knew when he'd get to see his little brother again.

That fact saddened him, but he was not dissuaded. Unbelievable as it was, he felt that he was doing what had to be done—what would go undone if he didn't take matters into his own hands. Fairoaks was in desperate need of some perspective, and he figured if no one else was going to give it to them, than he would. No matter what the cost.

Besides, it was their misconduct that had nearly killed his Cody. He knew Cody had almost died…just as he knew that he was still alive. He could feel it in his chest. If Cody were dead, the connection between them would have been cut off by now, and Zack's heart would have broken. His heart was still intact. Badly bruised and scarred for life, but still whole.

And now screaming for justice.

There was a fire burning within him that he could not control, and he was well-aware that it was rage. The rage fed him, like coals tossed in a blasting furnace. As he walked up the hillside to the main building's front door, he kept his head down and gazed fixedly at his swiftly-moving feet. He had to because he didn't feel like himself anymore—he didn't feel real. Instead, he felt like a robot being controlled by wrath, his every move—his every function—regulated outside his power. Move! Wrath ordered. Keep moving! Follow through with your mission.

There was nothing to yield his actions. The old Zack and the new had joined forces against a common enemy and the result would be a full-blown attack. A tirade.

…

When Cody finally woke up, he found himself in the hospital's recovery room, his arms and sides sore from the IVs and his body feeling heavier than what it actually was—like he had just come out of a pool after taking a long, exhilarating swim. He had a splitting headache and his mouth felt abnormally dry. He yawned, his jaw popping, and tried to swallow non-existent saliva. Then he looked around. Not much had changed from the last time he'd been there. There were empty beds situated on either side of him (some of the ones further down were occupied by sleeping patients), wheelchairs placed against the far wall to his left, along with monitors and ventilators and blankets. On his right was the exit—the wooden door in which people such as Zack and his parents, not to mention Dr. Maps, had once walked through to see him after his heart surgery. He half-expected one of those people to barge through it now and ask what the hell he'd gotten himself into this time.

Just moments later, someone did.

It was Dr. Maps, but he didn't barge; he sauntered into the room with fatigue and weariness. And heartache, though he tried not to show it. He stood before Cody with a pretentious smile that was easy see through, and said, as though commonly greeting someone on the street, "Hi Cody."

Cody figured he didn't know what else to say. It's not every day a doctor visits a former patient in an asylum and then, during that same day, has to operate on them. It's also not every day that a doctor almost loses a patient that had once been miraculously saved. Conversations between such a doctor and such a patient are best kept simple, he thought. The possible complexities are too much to handle in one instance.

"Hi, Dr. Maps," Cody said in return. He attempted to smile back, but his lips only slightly managed to curve. Concern was beginning to possess him. The doctor looked like he was on the verge of bowling over. "I take it you know the basics of what landed me back here."

Dr. Maps nodded. "How are you feeling?" It was a simple question.

Cody was tempted to say, "Forget how I'm feeling. How are you feeling?" But instead said, "Okay. I've got a whopping headache and my body feels like a brick but, other than that, I'm okay."

"What do you mean your body feels 'like a brick'?"

"Like…like I feel like I can't will myself to move. I feel like I've got gallons of lead in my bloodstream or something."

"That's an effect of the drug—the Thorazine, I mean. It should wear off in a few hours. Apparently we weren't able to counter it as well as we would have hoped. It had already done a number on you before you came here."

"How did you try to counter it?" Cody wondered.

"By pumping nutrients into you—vitamins, minerals, water…things to dilute it in your system. Normally, it's advised for people who take Thorazine to weaken it with something. Otherwise, they're more likely to suffer the serious side effects. Just be grateful you're not vomiting to kingdom come right now."

"Ick," intoned Cody, grimacing.

"The thing that really worried me was how it would affect your heart. Your heart's in a weakened state as it is. I was afraid it would—"

"Say no more," Cody said, deciding he didn't need to know the details. He already had enough shocking insight into how close he'd gotten to death. "I get it. You almost lost me…again."

"Yeah," Dr. Maps agreed sadly. "Yeah, I did. But you came through for me again. Thank you."

Dr. Maps' eyes had suddenly wandered to the space next to Cody's bed, and Cody wasn't sure if the "thank you" was directed at him or at something else…like, say, God. "What was the 'thank you' for?" he asked, taking the risk of sounding random and obtrusive. "It wasn't like I did anything. If anyone should be getting a 'thank you,' it's you."

Dr. Maps smiled appreciatively (this time, the smile was real). "That's really kind of you, but I believe it was you who did most of the work. You pulled yourself through, Cody. You willed yourself to make it. I saw your struggle. You were very brave."

Cody wondered what was so brave about lying helplessly in a hospital bed while being injected with IVs, but he didn't make any inquiries. "I'm glad you think so," he said.

A moment of silent contemplation befell them.

"It's so ironic, isn't it?" Dr. Maps eventually commented.

"What is?" asked Cody.

"This situation. It's just so…bizarre."

Cody looked at him quizzically.

"To think that just hours ago, you and I were sitting in the visiting room at Fairoaks—talking about how your brother had been right, and how I'd made a horrible mistake—and then all of a sudden, you get out of there. You get out the same day I realize you need to get out."

"So…I won't be going back?" Cody wasn't as interested in what had happened as he was what it would lead to. His voice was noticeably hopeful. Optimistic, even.

"I highly doubt it. An incident like the one you went through usually entails a lawsuit…especially since you could have been killed."

Oh, great, thought Cody sarcastically. A lawsuit. That's just what I need. Despite how angry he was at being misjudged and sedated, the last thing he wanted was a court case on his hands.

Dr. Maps shook his head, contemplating the paradox of the day's events. Going deeper into it. "And what vexes me even more is how you got out," he went on. "It's so similar to how you got in when you think about it. You almost died in association to both occasions—you got in because you almost died, and you got out because you almost died. It's just weird. I can't seem to wrap my mind around it. It almost feels like a sick joke."

Cody considered the similarities. He had to admit, there were many—mostly emotional similarities, the most prominent of which being his experiences upon waking up in the hospital: seeing a mysterious light, lingering between sleep and wakefulness, feeling heavy when regaining consciousness…all of those and more. But there were also differences. Like whose fault it was, and how exactly he'd ended up in a state of "almost dying," and what he had almost died for. His first near-death incident had been the result of attempted suicide; his second had been the result of a frantic rescue. The first had not involved a struggle—that is, except for the panic that overtook Zack when he'd found him; the second, however, had included a fight. A fight that had, in fact, caused him injury. "I took a beating this time," Cody reminisced.

"Yes," Dr. Maps conceded. "Apparently you did. You've got a bruise on your belly the size of a baseball."

Cody was instantly curious of what the bruise looked like—of how bad it was—so he reached under his blanket, pulled the hem of his hospital gown up (he didn't care about the fact that he only had on underwear beneath it; it wasn't like Dr. Maps was going to pull down the blanket and take a peek), and glanced down at his stomach. The bruise was baseball-sized, alright. The bottom of its circumference was about two inches above his navel and another inch or so from his ribcage. It was purplish-green and hurt when he pressed his fingers against it. "I got elbowed," he told Dr. Maps. "The guy was really big. I got behind him and started yanking on his collar. Needless to say, he didn't like that very much. So he jammed his elbow into my gut and sent me reeling to the floor."

"Eesh," Dr. Maps said sympathetically. "I'm sorry." Then suddenly, he was struck with a quick, spontaneous desire to tell Cody something that he hadn't told any of his professional colleagues. Or anyone else for that matter…that is, except for Cody's twin brother Zack. He didn't know where this desire came from, but he knew it was senseless to refute it. "You're my miracle patient, Cody." There, it was out. Dr. Maps felt both relieved and uncomfortably exposed in having admitted that. He waited in anticipation for a response.

"I'm your what?" Cody questioned, not sure if he'd heard him right.

"My miracle patient," Dr. Maps repeated. "You made me believe in miracles. Before I met you, I never believed in anything beyond what I could see; it's a common thing among doctors…to believe only in the things backed up by evidence, or proven. To be skeptical. For the longest time, I was like that. I was like that ever since my…" he paused, unable to speak about his brother. It had been particularly agonizing to do so earlier, and he did not want to put himself through that ordeal again. "Never mind," he said, feeling a tad bit sheepish. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I lost my faith a long time ago and you helped me regain it…at least, to some extent. I'm not sure how much I actually believe, but I can honestly say it's more than I did before. "

Cody knew, even though Dr. Maps had effectively cut himself off, that he'd been about to give mention to his deceased brother.

"That's why you're my miracle patient," Dr. Maps continued. "And it's not just the fact that you've lived through two operations—the first of which was not known to be successful—or that you remind me of…someone."

I remind you of your brother, don't I, Dr. Maps? You hurt to be around me because I remind you of your brother. You don't have to hide that fact…though I can see why you'd want to. If I ever lost my brother…

No, I can't think like that. It hurts too much.

"It's you, as a person. You're a miracle. And I don't mean that in a religious or philosophical sense. I'm talking personal. You're a miracle to me."

Tears pricked Cody's eyes. He'd never been called anything like that before. Not even by his brother, or by his parents. It was such an honor to be known as a miracle to someone. Cody hardly felt worthy of it but he didn't say so. He just laid back and let the tears well.

Dr. Maps noticed them. "Oh, Cody," he choked. Before he could stop himself, he bent over the boy's limp, bruised, and aching body and gently kissed his forehead. It was against hospital regulations to do that. Doctors were not supposed to display affection toward their patients; they could accept hugs and kisses when offered but they could never administer them. However, Dr. Maps was beyond caring. He knew Cody wouldn't tell anyone…except maybe his brother, who wouldn't mind.

"Your friend Jenny's in the waiting room," Dr. Maps continued, standing up straight. "She asked if she could see you."

"How is she?" Cody inquired, remembering her tear-streaked face in the ambulance and the touch of the damp cloth with which she used to cool his face. "Does she know I'm okay?"

Dr. Maps nodded. "I spoke to her while you were asleep. Told her you'd be back to normal by the end of the day and that she could come see you after you woke up." He paused suddenly and heaved a disheartened sigh. "She thinks she's responsible for all this."

Cody gave him a bewildered look.

"Yeah," he verified. "I tried to comfort her, but…she was inconsolable. I think seeing you is the only thing that'll make her feel better."

Cody could only picture what her reaction to seeing him would be, but he felt she needed to see him. "Bring her in."

Dr. Maps turned to leave.

"Dr. Maps?" Cody stopped him.

He looked back over his shoulder, his hand on the handle on the door, ready to pull.

"Could I, maybe, have some water? My throat feels a little dry."

"Sure."

And then Dr. Maps was gone.

He was replaced by Jenny, who, as soon as her eyes found him, instantly ran to the side of Cody's bed and buried her head into his chest.

"Jenny…" Cody said, but it was drowned out by the sound of her bitter sobbing. So he just rubbed her back and tried to calm her by repetitively saying, "Shhh…shhhhh…"

"Oh God, Cody!" she finally managed to sputter. "The doctors told me they almost lost you. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life…not even when Mr. Willner…" Her sobbing increased. "Oh Cody, I am so sorry! This is all my fault! It's my fault you almost…oh God!" She sounded like she was going to be sick. "I'll never forgive myself for this."

That was when Cody decided to take the initiative. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay." He took her about the shoulders and gradually tried to push her from him. "Look at me. Jenny, look at me."

She did.

"Everything's okay now. I'm okay." He wanted to sound as convincing as possible. "Just a few side effects left over from the drug, but that's it. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine."

Jenny sniffled. "That's good," she conceded. "When they told me you were going to make it, I was…" she paused, thinking of the right words to say. "…more relieved that you could possibly imagine."

Just then, Dr. Maps came back in, carrying a cup half-filled with water. "Here's your water, Cody," he apologized. "I just got in contact with your parents. They say they're on their way here. They should be here shortly to take you home."

He handed the cup over to Cody. Cody took it and started gulping down the water. When he was finished, he handed the cup back to Dr. Maps and thanked him.

"No problem," Dr. Maps said back. Then he left a second time.

Once Jenny and Cody were alone again, Jenny resumed their conversation: "Cody, I'm grateful to you for what you did. Immensely grateful. I'll never forget it…and I sure as hell will never be able to repay it. But believe me, it was my fault."

Cody opened his mouth to protest but Jenny cut him off: "I knew that Mr. Willner was dangerous, Cody. I knew it. Whenever we get a new patient, we're all required to read their profile. Even patients like Mr. Willner who need…special attention. That way, we can protect ourselves." She swallowed hard, her guilt shining like a beacon on her face. "I knew what kind of a man he was. I knew what it meant when he started rubbing my arm—I knew it was a sign! And I…I turned my back on him anyway."

Cody wasn't angry at her, though part of him wanted to be (he couldn't bring himself to be because it was her mistake that had, inadvertently, led to his escape from Fairoaks). Rather than anger, the emotion that overcame him was curiosity—morbid wonder. "Tell me, why did you approach him?" he questioned. "When you saw him in the hallway…if you knew he was dangerous…why didn't you just leave him there and take me to my room?"

"Because," Jenny replied glumly, "I felt like I had a responsibility to him. Like my being a nurse meant I automatically had to take charge of him. He's not supposed to be unguarded, Cody…ever. Sex offenders are never supposed to be out of our sight unless they're locked in their rooms."

Cody took a moment to mull this over. To analyze her the way a doctor would a patient. He felt obligated to do so; she needed to be understood. "I think the bottom line," he eventually said, "is that you were blinded. You were blinded by your job, so you ignored common sense."

"I was stupid," she declared matter-of-factly.

Cody shook his head. "No, not stupid," he disagreed. "You're not stupid, Jenny. You just…you had your mind on one thing when it should have been on something else. You were distracted by what you thought you had to do. It's actually pretty natural."

"It almost got you killed." All of a sudden, Jenny began to cry again. "I almost got you killed…because I was distracted. Because I never once foresaw that he would attack me, even though I was fully aware that he could…even though the signs were right there in front of me!"

Cody sighed. "But that's no different," he argued, "than, say, someone who smokes cigarettes even though they know it'll give them cancer, or someone who doesn't wear their seatbelt even though they know it'll increase their chances of dying in a car wreck."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying, it's no different. People do shit like this all the time. We live like we're immune to everything. Like the things we see in movies and on the news can never happen to us; we keep living that way until they do."

"Well, that's stupid."

Cody shrugged. She was never going to see what she did as anything other than pure stupidity, and he was aware of that. "Maybe," he gave in. "But it's human."

Jenny looked at him in silence for a long minute, and then gave a slow nod. On a subconscious level, despite her self-loathing, she knew he was right. What she had done was human, and she couldn't deny it. People made wrong calls all the time and she, regardless of how trained and pumped full of college vocabulary she was, wasn't any different.

What really bothered her was not the fact that she had made a mistake, but the fact that she had ignored her instincts. She'd knowingly seen the signs of Mr. Willner's transgression, and had paid them little heed…thus, offering him the chance to assault her and, in turn, enabling Cody to get unjustly sedated. She could not forgive herself for that. If the signals had not been there—if there had been nothing to see that would hint towards Mr. Willner's actions—she could accept her misjudgment as an honest mistake and move on. But the fact that there was rendered that impossible.

It was rather funny when she thought about it. Not in the comical sense, but in the peculiar sense. When she'd first started working at Fairoaks, she'd been confident about herself. She had six years of college education under her belt, several internships, extracurricular activities, outstanding grades and recommendations—everything that would make her stand out to the common employer. And she'd been proud of it. She'd acted as though she was ready to take on anything that came her way. She desperately wanted to be ready.

She'd been determined to prove herself—to show her parents that she was capable of working hard, despite her comfortable, well-to-do upbringing. To have the last laugh at those kids in her childhood who'd called her a stuck-up snob and swore that she could never handle real life. To show anyone who disliked people born into wealthier families that even those who didn't have to work could if they so desired.

And to demonstrate, through choosing clinical psychology as her field, that she had a heart that she intended to use to help people.

But she'd overestimated herself. She had never given much consideration to the danger, nor to the overall price, of her choices; she had never once thought that any of the horrible things she'd seen on TV or read about in her textbooks could actually happen to her.

She'd acted like she was immune to them.

She hated to admit it, but what happened between her and Mr. Willner was a wake-up call.

…

Kurt and Carey Martin arrived at the hospital about fifteen minutes after Jenny Kroft had gone into the recovery room to see their son. When they met with Dr. Maps (who'd been waiting for them) in the front lobby, they were worried senseless. Kurt spouted off an endless string of questions, and Carey began to shout. Then after a while, Kurt started cussing up a storm and Carey dissolved into sobs.

By the time Dr. Maps calmed them down to the point where they could speak reasonably, people were staring at them.

The doctor assured them that Cody was okay; he gave them a rundown of what he and his colleagues had done to him in the ER, and then told them that they could go see him shortly. Which made them feel remarkably better. Carey even gave Dr. Maps an appreciative hug.

But then Kurt asked a question that threw Dr. Maps for a loop: "And what about Zack?"

Dr. Maps gazed at him in puzzlement, before asking him what he meant.

"You know," Kurt explained, "my other son…Zack. Cody's twin brother."

"I know who you're referring to," Dr. Maps said. "What about him?"

"Where is he? Has he seen Cody yet?" Kurt seemed so eager for the reply. So sure that his older son was in the hospital somewhere and had already seen his younger one.

Dr. Maps kept his face vacant and confused, though he felt his heart sink and his stomach twist with dread as he told them the truth that he knew would alarm them: "Mr. and Ms. Martin, Zack's not here."

At first, Kurt looked at him as though he hadn't heard him right. But when he saw the sincerity in the doctor's eyes, and knew that he'd heard him perfectly fine. And had responded honestly. "What?"

"What do you mean he's not here?" begged Carey.

"I mean," Dr. Maps confirmed, "he's not here. He never came in."

Just then, a nervous silence befell the three of them.

Carey put an end to it. "Oh no," she whispered in sudden terror. "Where could he…?" She turned toward her ex-husband, searching for any answers or ideas that he might have, but instantly lost hope when she saw that his expression was blank except for concern.

They were escorted to the nearest waiting room where they sat, wallowing in anxiety. Carey cried softly into Kurt's shoulder, muttering about where her baby was, while Kurt tried his best to comfort both her and himself by telling her that wherever he was, he was alright.

Not too long after they'd sat down, Kurt's cell phone rang. Immediately, and without second thought, he dug it out of his pocket and answered it. "Hello?" he said desperately.

Please be Zack, he mentally implored. Please, please be Zack. And please let him be calling from somewhere safe.

It was, indeed, Zack.

He was calling from the Boston police station.