Well, everyone…it's been fun. ;)

This is officially the last chapter of Boy, Disrupted. And it's the epilogue (that's why it's so short); it's an overview of where the twins end up. I must say, I have mixed feelings about completing this story. I'm kind of sad because writing it was such an enthralling experience, but I'm also excited because I'm done with my first fanfic and (almost) ready to do a sequel. I think on the whole, I'm more pleased than anything. Finishing a story is quite an accomplishment. :)

Anyway, as for the sequel, Boy, Reinvented, it's going to contain many things: mixed feelings, past demons, job searching, a life-altering adventure, and the none-too-easy process of moving on. Plus, there's going to be a HUGE twist at the end. I'd tell you more, but I don't want to spoil too much. :)

I want to give another "thank you" to all my wonderful reviewers. A special thanks to: Waldojeffers, Elianna22, tiger002, JDHarris1990, woundedhearts, Wyntirsno and xAlL-tHiNgS-sUiTe-LiFe-RoCkSx for all the encouragement, analysis, praise, and support. I can't thank you guys enough! And thank you to everyone else! I really wish I could list you all but it would take too long. A million times, thank you! I'm deeply grateful for all your words. :)

Enjoy the epilogue! And stay tuned for the sequel. ;)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC's.

Zack and Cody had hit rock-bottom. But the good thing about hitting rock-bottom is: the only way left to go is up.

Step by step, day by day, they were moving up. It wasn't easy. If anything, it was a test. They were forced to challenge each other—and themselves—a little every day to make sure that they were climbing the ladder of recovery. It was hard. It was downright grueling at times. But they both knew it was worth it.

They talked to each other quite a bit—sorting things out, asking questions, making promises. Cody told Zack more about George and Zack opened up about the kiss that he and Bailey had shared (which, he swore, had been a mistake); to the older twin's surprise, Cody took the news rather well. Cody told Zack, with much disdain, about his therapy sessions with Dr. Thompson and, in return, Zack gave him a full synopsis of what he'd done to land himself in the police station. They came clean about feelings of suppression and being overshadowed, while making sure to remind each other of their love.

Their conversations lasted well into the night on most days. They had a great deal to confess.

They didn't just have each other though. Other people were present during their healing process. Their parents were there, constantly offering support; Jenny Kroft and Dr. Maps visited them frequently (Jenny was thrilled to meet Cody's twin brother); Mr. Moseby came to check on them whenever he could; London Tipton dropped by every now and then and gave them her regards; and of course, Bailey Pickett was there for them. Eventually she had to fly back to Kansas, but that didn't stop her from being involved in their well-being. On the day she left for the airport, she promised both brothers that she would email and call them as often as she could.

She kept her promise.

The most important part of any healing process is to pick up the broken pieces of a shattered life and put them back together. Sometimes, to avoid a relapse, they must be rearranged. Or replaced.

Zack knew, even though he had his brother back, that he would not be able to live in his house anymore. Setting foot in it after the incident had been agonizing, and he knew it would always be that way. The house had memories now. It had nightmares. Zack would condemn himself to living in the past if he were to live in that house any longer.

So he sold it.

He would look for another place, but in the meantime, live at the Tipton…just like in the old days of his childhood.

Similarly for Cody, he couldn't bear to go back to Yale. For one thing, Brianna was there (the thought of being anywhere near her was beyond him), and for another, so were the memories of his descent into depression—of everything that had ultimately thrown him into, what he now called, "the darkness." He couldn't stand to be near them either. So he retrieved his transcripts (he grades were good for the most part) and applied to Harvard. He wrote a fantastic entry essay on the bond between him and Zack and was immediately accepted.

A huge plus about going to Harvard, besides the obvious, was that it was closer to home. He could drive back and forth between school and home as often as he wanted, and didn't have to deal with homesickness. Part of him almost wished he'd chosen Harvard in the beginning.

In addition to these changes, there was change all around. The twins' father, Kurt, was around more often; he figured his sons needed him more than his band members did, so he held off touring and performances for months at a time and stayed at the Tipton with Carey and the boys.

Carey continued to sing, but Moseby made her shows less frequent than they had been so she too could spend time with her boys. She was very grateful to him for that. Her free time also enabled her to have more energy and do some of the things she'd wanted, but had never been able, to do in the past.

Family time became almost a norm.

There was change circling the outside world as well. Jenny Kroft visited the Tipton one day and announced to Cody that she'd quit working at Fairoaks. She couldn't take it anymore, she said. And it wasn't just walking down that hallway where the assault took place; it was—as she'd put it—"everything else." For the sake of survival, she began working at a nursing home, but that was intended to be temporary until she found a clinic that was hiring and would take her. Nursing homes weren't exactly her forte, but she'd deal with it so long as she had to.

Cody was happy for her. She deserved better than Fairoaks anyway.

Interestingly enough, as fate would have it, Cody was walking to his car one afternoon as soon as he'd gotten done with his classes when, out the corner of his eye, he saw a newspaper dispenser. He wasn't much for reading newspapers, but the headline of this one caught his attention: "Local Doctor Being Sued for Misconduct." He tried to read it through the glass of the dispenser but the smudges made it difficult, so he dropped a quarter into the payment slot and bought one. He read the first story while standing there; it was about a doctor at a psychiatric institution getting fired for misconduct when he'd made one of his patients cry and threaten to commit homicide during a therapy session. The patient's angered family was trying to sue him for it.

The psychiatric ward was Fairoaks Asylum. And the fired doctor was Dr. Thompson. There were pictures of both.

Ah, sweet justice, Cody thought. Totally worth that quarter. Then he continued the walk to his car.

That had been a good day.

As usual with life, not everything was good. One thing about pain—real pain—is that it lessens with time but never goes away. Even months after Cody told Zack the true reason behind his attempted suicide, he still endured the shame of it. He had to look at his loved ones every day, see their anguish over what he'd done, and know that he was the source of it. He had to withstand his brother's bad dreams, his mother's crying, his father's silent contemplation, and his friends' inner conflict as they said "How you doing, Cody?" or "Good night, Cody," or "See ya later, Cody," when really what they wanted to say was, "Please don't kill yourself, Cody." Not to mention, he also had to live with his own regret, which very well may have been torture.

The question that haunted him now was: what was he going to do? And more specifically, how was he going to do it? He couldn't just live in the shadow of memory. And acknowledgment wasn't enough. He needed change—he needed modification. On one hand, he sought forgiveness for his past; on the other, he sought reestablishment for himself (as a person who could put the past behind him). He needed not only to accept his actions, but to fix the problem that had caused those actions in the first place. And he had no clue how to do either.

Trial and error was all he had to go on.

And he couldn't fully let go of the past. The memories were too intense for that. That was a disadvantage for him in some ways, but in others it was a benefit. He would never forget George, or the first time he met Jenny, or the day Dr. Maps told him about his little brother, or the patients he'd become acquainted with. He'd learned so much from them. They'd each bore their own level of significance. In a way, all these Fairoaks-related events came together and served as a giant tapestry—an image that showed him the error of his ways. Due to that alone, there was a bit of gratitude mixed in with his disdain for the time he'd spent there.

In a way, it had made him stronger.

He was fully aware that he would never see some of those people he'd met at Fairoaks again (and of course, he was doomed to never see George). But not one day went by when his heart didn't find them.

Life wasn't "happily ever after" for Zack either. Though he was ecstatic that his brother was alive and healthy, he had to deal with the aftermath of his trauma. Nightmares plagued his sleep, and every time he looked at Cody he was reminded of the depressed brother who'd just shot himself and was dying on the floor of his room. He remembered the blood, and the fear, and the tears, and the loss of consciousness…it was like ice in the back of his mind that never melted.

He had to go on living with the knowledge and the understanding that his little brother once tried to leave him an only child. At times, that felt like more than his heart could bear.

And he still had a split personality.

The new Zack was still there, lingering inside him—rebellious and vindictive. Taking control whenever he could, or whenever the old, original one couldn't handle things. Zack knew he'd always be there. Vague as fog, but as real as anything in the world ever could be. He loathed him, and feared him, and tried to beat him down every time he arose to the surface…but he could not get rid of him. Being rid of him would have equaled being rid of a piece of his soul.

Zack had to accept the fact that he was a vessel for two identities. Divergent and intolerant of each other, with the unrelenting desire to be trusted. He existed as two separate people, cut from one.

Like a torn individual.

Like a boy, disrupted.