Falling Through the Cracks
by Aimme,
with touches by My Note Book
Summary: His mask was flawless. His walls were perfectly structured. Protection and cautionary containment at its finest. Even a perfect pretend held fractures, though, and no matter how strong his glue, under the right circumstances, glue cracked and had to be gutted and filled in again.
Author's Notes: Please see the first chapter for all thorough disclaimers, warnings, and notations made by the author(s).
I forgot last chapter to reply to BlackKeys96's review for chapter 4! Sorry about that! I got everything else of that ridiculously long author's note written down and forgot to add a reply to your review! I will do so now by saying this: I am glad you enjoyed and were moved by a glimpse of the thoughts and feelings of Zack's friends. When it comes right down to it, I think they really care about him. And I think you are right, Zack's going to need them—he already does need them, probably! And I cannot blame Woody at all for jumping to conclusions, but out of them all, it definitely seemed like a very Woody-thing to do. Now, for your review of chapter 5: I am glad you liked getting to see what drove Zack to do what he did this time. It's kind of scary how he can throw up his defences and lie that quickly, yes! And Cody is definitely in denial, too terrified to acknowledge anything else. Denial's a pretty powerful thing, and can leave us blind to what is really going on with those we care about for a time—or indefinitely or permanently, it all depends. And I think there's something there as well, that he doesn't want to have "to deal with the reality of his twin problem," as you put, but I think it's largely just because it's too scary. You know?
Well, I hope I didn't forget to add anything to the author's note here and at the end. I had oral surgery on Monday, got all four of my wisdom teeth out, and the drugs they have me on make me a little loopy, kind of out of it sometimes, I am having trouble remembering everything. I am aware and alert, but sometimes I space and I can't be too certain I remember all that I am supposed to. Here's to hoping! Enjoy! By the way, and also to avoid any confusion, let me just say that this chapter begins right after the end of the last one. Thank you.
And...uh...I know Cody was a jerk in the last chapter...
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Chapter Six - What's In A Name?
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What's in a name?
The encapsulation of what matters to us,
The syllables of identity
Defining who we are and what we love
"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" I asked, trying to keep the doubt out of my voice. He's telling the truth. I can feel it. But I know deep down the only reason I think so is because he's my big brother, and yes, I wanted to believe him if for nothing else than that simple fact of our lives.
"Bleeding untended to can leave someone dying, Zack," I scolded, trying to keep him from knowing I'm not really sure if I believe him.
"Yeah, thanks, captain science," my brother shot back defensively. "And I was on my way to clean up—I said that already, Cody."
That was Zack for you.
Sighing lowly, I rubbed my head as I pulled him around the corner near the infirmary, and then I turned towards him. He looked so tired, so worn, and I wondered if I had missed something, because surely his blood loss wasn't that bad…
"Zack, this is serious," I snapped quietly, warningly, suddenly feeling pain choke my throat and heat searing my eyes. "Zack…" I forced out past the tightness; forbid the lump from controlling my larynx. "Bleeding is not to be taken lightly, and it's not a joke—not when it's as deep and dark as this. This isn't a mere scratch!"
He dropped his gaze away.
"Enough blood loss can easily lead to nearly dying…" my voice was soft and strained against the painful knot in my vocal chords. "Or fatally worse," I barely whispered, barely breathed it, hating the harsh thought; it terrified me, and I didn't want to think about it, much less give voice to it—it seemed to make it too real, as though it would give it too much power. "Why?" I choked out in a rough and raw tone. I was confused and torn, and I didn't know what to think.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, then after a second he shot his gaze up to me with a questioning look on his face, hesitation in his eyes, like he wasn't sure…wasn't sure what I wanted him to say? I wasn't sure.
I did know, however, that the pallid look to his skin couldn't be good; he looked weary and faint and not at all healthy. "Come on," I sighed, turning us back to our destination.
I glanced down once as we entered the infirmary, my eyes drawn to the tourniquet hiding damage that had shaken me.
"What are you two doing here?" The voice was short, snappish, and mean—150 pounds of pure terror. Made you not want to even go within a 100 meter radius of the infirmary; I couldn't blame Zack for dreading a visit here.
Ah, great. She was working the infirmary today; she was 4'10" of nothing but harsh, cold, crabby temperament. Hatchet was a fitting last name, though I still meant the pseudonym I had once given her, a couple years ago now: Florence Frightengale... History humour helps.
Hands on her hips, left eyebrow raised, and unfriendly expression set about her face, Nurse Hatchet never looked happy to greet anybody, despite the fact that people coming here makes her job a necessity—keeps her needed, thus, a paycheck for her.
"Um…" I hedged uncomfortably, looking at that twitching eyebrow which boded no good. She makes me feel like I'm on pins and needles…that explains Zack's hesitance to come here, at least. "Zack had an accident," I quickly supplied, not willing to cross that cross look. Information about the situation from my brother himself wasn't very forthcoming.
"Not surprising," she bit out derisively, voice sugar-coated with sarcasm. "What happened?" it was a snarl through and through this time.
I was conflicted about what to tell her; I didn't know what had happened, but I didn't want to do much more than accept my brother's words.
Before I could answer, she had turned away to retrieve a folder from the file cabinet, and Zack jumped beside me, startled, when she slammed the drawer shut. Eyes blazing, scowl in place, she faced us and flipped open the slim folder, briefly glancing over the information contained therein. Her frown deepened.
"You," she pointed a finger at me. "First, how bad is he injured? Life-threatening?"
"No," we both answered quickly.
"Fine. You," she reiterated, grabbing a form and a clipboard from somewhere among her ominous desk, "I assume you will be able to fill this out." And she thrust paper, board, and pen at me, surprising me enough to drop Zack's arm at last.
Before either of us could react, the towel slipped and blood-darkened white revealed itself to the world, like some sort of white flag soaked with the lifeblood of surrender. It made my stomach churn nauseatingly and for a brief moment, as instantaneous as the blink of an eye, I felt a rush of lightheadedness which subsided and disappeared without a trace as quickly as it had made its unannounced appearance.
Zack swayed.
I settled the clipboard in my hands, a glance upward confirmed Nurse Hatchet's narrowed gaze upon the discarded mess, and, gripping the pen in my fingers against the board and dropping it to my side, I leaned forward to pick up the dropped towel. From the corner of my eye, I saw it, and before I could react, Zack suddenly toppled over.
Fear shot through me and I jumped with it as extra adrenaline spiked my heart rate unexpectedly. "Zack!"
"No, no. You, out." Nurse Hatchet grabbed my arm and pulled me away from my brother as I tried to get to him.
I opened my mouth to speak, intending to tell her exactly where she could put her "no" and her "out" but her words broke through the air before mine could.
"Stop," she waved a finger at me, dragging me further away from the distressing form dead to the world on the floor behind us. No, no…most friggin' worst analogy in the history of analogies… My breath caught and my heart raced, too fast, too hard.
I wanted to bolt back to his side. Nurse Hatchet was 4'10" of pure iron will and extreme strength, and she single-handedly -literally- overpowered my struggle to get to my twin.
Who did she think she was? "That's my brother, you terror. Let go of me!" I snarled, wrenching in her grasp. The nasty, wretched muttonhead would not be deterred and she did not get the message—and it irked me that no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't get the message across to her. "I'll-I'll press charges!" I snapped, violently, forcefully, frantically trying to get my arm free, desperately trying to get back to my twin.
My heart was still pounding too hard, its racing prominent and forceful and sheer pain in my twisting chest.
"You will do no such thing," she spoke condescendingly, yanking the door open.
No, no…sweet life, no… a few steps and I would be on the other side of that blasted door… I dug my feet in, terrified of those last few steps—those steps, which were far too close and their proximity scared me more than they reasonably should—those steps, which would place me at an insufferably distant distance away from Zack—my exasperating, blessed, moronic brother; my brother who'd bled out, bright and painful and terrifying, who'd been so weak and pallid and unsteady; my brother who'd abruptly, unexpectedly, horrifyingly keeled over in the infirmary. I couldn't pass that threshold.
I tried, struggled, fought, desperately, like a man drowning, dying, suffocating, like someone reaching for their only direction, to free myself from that grip—a grip which carried out an unjust sentence—a grip purposed to condemn me once and for all by banishing me beyond that wretched, stupid wall—a wall which would keep me from the embodiment of the single word which the broken record in my brain strung along to the tune of my speeding heart.
Zack.
A single mantra which held more than simply a name—it meant banter, and arguments, and late night talks, the sharing of dreams and life and never being alone—it meant exasperation and despise, and frustration and irritation and annoyed fondness—it meant ribbing and trust and the assurance that some things never change.
And at that moment, it felt like the world.
Zack. My brother. I couldn't pass that doorframe.
"You will get out." She intoned firmly.
A painful, rough shove to the arm held tight enough to bruise with a single, unforgiving hand punctuated her words. I was forced over the doorstep, and I couldn't understand it, but stepping over the threshold felt like the sealing of impending doom. It felt like the world crashing down on my shoulders and crushing my chest and twisting my heart around and in and on itself and churning my insides into a giant solid mass of tightness and knots and pain.
She slammed the door shut before I could stop her, before I could process the unthinkable and horrible thing that had happened—what the shutting of that door had been and was, what the passing over of that condemning threshold had sealed. The lock turned with a solid click, and it resounding in my ears like some cruel pronouncement of a judge's decision—the gavel's call sealing imprecation in cold, finalized reality. There would be no changing it, no second chances; the judgement had been given, the sentence to be carried out without delay.
I stared at that confounded door, glaring at it with as much contempt and betrayal as I could muster, as if I willed it to melt and shrivel up and disappear and let me get to my brother.
I dropped my head against the exterior of the door, letting my forehead thump against the cursed barrier that barred me from Zack.
Blast it!
I suddenly heard the lock turning again and I lifted my head, surprised, but Nurse Hatchet's scowling, unfriendly face appeared only briefly enough to shove the discarded clipboard and pen at me, hard enough to make me stumble back a few feet long enough for her to slam that blasted portal -now my barricade, and Zack's promise of isolation- shut once more and bolt it against any hope of the grant of entrance. I clenched the clipboard in my hands, hands from which it had fallen when they had grown lax when Zack fainted—the same as they had when I'd seen my twin bloody and reflecting something out of a nightmare -only this time, I couldn't just wake up- and captured memories had slipped and scattered colour and picture perfection -perfect in what they held- across my brother's floor.
I stared at that door, as if I could look through and see my brother, as if it meant nothing and I could be beside him, assuring my pounding heart of his wellbeing and easing my mind with the living, breathing, flesh and blood knowledge that he was alive and breathing and his blood was still warming his flesh from the inside and not marring it on the outside, draining away from him to leave him cold and blue and…
I groaned. Lifeless. Dead.
The door between us, though, meant more than nothing—it meant everything. It meant waiting and pacing and worrying and not knowing. It meant anxiety and the whispers of dread and the shouting of fear. It meant I was here and he was there, and I could not close the distance between.
It meant he was alone and I was alone, but I was fine and he was not.
At that moment, it felt like the catalyst of the world bearing down on me.
I forced myself to turn away, to turn my back on what would otherwise be cold, unforgiving reality screaming silently yet all too loudly at my eyes.
Ignoring the tightness in my chest, I made myself put one foot in front of the other in a journey carrying me further away from my downed brother. It seemed to me to be as the last thing I wanted—and to do. Yet I also did—did want and did do. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was abandoning Zack, though; I couldn't shake my feelings of desperation, of unease, of pain and of a sudden, gaping void growing stronger, vaster, deeper the further I walked away from that cursed door, beyond which my brother fared only God knows how.
Finding a bench further down the hall, around a corner, I sunk down onto it, mentally warring and seeking answers I never grew any closer to getting.
I was suffering from confliction, I knew. And I couldn't cure it.
I wanted to go back and bust that door down; I wanted to stay right here. I wanted to be by my brother's side, but since I couldn't, I didn't want to see that door withholding me—but I wanted to stay as close by as possible. I wanted to believe Zack, because he's my big brother and he's not supposed to be anything like what the other options entailed; I felt that perhaps I knew better and his explanation was bogus.
Then again, it was believable. Because it was so…Zack.
I shook my head, trying to clear it, trying to dispel that one word which stuck so steadfastly to every vestige of my brain. Sighing heavily and hoping to somehow silence the rushing in my head, I turned my attention to the clipboard in my hand, hoping to distract my thoughts from their broken record keeping. It didn't work. The first blank required a name, and my mind, already susceptible, latched onto its one chord.
Zack.
It resounded in my head in time with the pounding in my chest. The skipping track, stuck in repetition of a single sound, one iteration, blocked out all other thoughts—I couldn't simply hit a button to skip to a new track; replay had zeroed in on one syllable, and it would not let it go.
Zack.
I was terrified, to be honest. Terrified because I did not know what to make of the situation, and even if that other option…an option I refused to acknowledge…was out of the question, the fact that Zack had simply keeled over was enough to scare all reason out of me.
Zack.
And apparently all control and order of my brain.
Accepting what I wanted to believe all I wanted did not erase the terror slicing through my veins, the horror rising, sharp and bitter, in my throat. Nothing would erase seeing my brother simply fall flat on his face, unconscious, for no apparent reason. Was he suffering from blood loss more intensely than I had realised? Was I missing something?
I didn't want to be missing him, as that would mean he's dead and I can't have that. I can't be missing…
Zack.
The annoying prat that he was, he'd now found a way to annoy me without even being around me. How does he do that? I needed to sort through my thoughts, I needed to fill out this form, I needed… but I couldn't do any of that. My brain would not release its hold on that single syllable.
Zack.
One syllable which held more meaning than the longest known word. One name which held more importance than any figure in history. One person who could put my mind, my knowledge-filled, ordered, capable brain on the fritz.
Zack.
The mantra of one syllable, a short title which meant far more than its minuteness implied—it meant kinship and brotherhood and family, that blood still trumps water and no matter what, someone has my back—it meant striving and straining to be my own person, a stretching shadow always haunting my limelight and endless comparisons—it meant individuality and similarities and glaring differences, pain and problems and grievances—it meant aggravation and frustration and lividness, and love and dislike and hate and never being alone…it meant…the assurance that I will never be alone, no matter what comes, and a constant which anchors in a world where nothing ever stays the same.
And right now, it felt like the world.
What's in a name?
The embodiment of everything we don't want to lose
Love is what is in a family's name
A title which encapsulates what we care most about
What's in a name?
The tie that binds
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Author's Note: Maybe this redeems the younger twin a little bit, eh? I have to say, I'm really liking this chapter. Cody's thoughts towards the end are awesome...but that's just me (I'm a sucker for brotherly-ness). So, what do you think is wrong with Zack? First, he's cutting, then he's dying, now he's fainting...what next? Becoming a martyr? Oh, wait... Alright, well, what do you like most about this chapter? Anything pop out at you?
I love the way Cody's mind kept jumping around, yet always coming back to Zack. Like the part where he wondered if he was missing something, and his brain latched onto the word "missing" and he suddenly worried about missing his brother, because that would mean Zack was dead. And he can't have that. So he doesn't want to be missing his brother. It's...well, I don't know...it was sweet, I guess. Also, but like I already mentioned, all the parts about "it meant" were really awesome. Nice brotherly-ness there, I guess.
And don't worry, we'll get back inside Zack's head here before too long!
Does anyone remember the Nurse Hatchet reference, or even know the Florence Frightengale reference in that episode? I laughed at that. Florence Nightengale was actually quite a good nurse; quite an admirable young woman, she was, and an extraordinary caregiver, I hear.
I know one of these words [tourniquet] was used before, but it's not one I have seen very often and I realised it was in this chapter, too, so I figured I'd put it here instead. The word isn't used in the entirety of its expanded definition, but it is close enough.
Vocabulary:
larynx - voice box
pallid - (1) pale: having an unhealthily pale complexion
tourniquet - device to stop bleeding: a tight encircling band applied around an arm or leg in an emergency [specifically] to stop severe arterial bleeding that cannot be controlled in any other way; [Pretty much, a device used to check blood flow, and we can leave it at that.]
muttonhead - [informal insult]: an offensive term that deliberately insults somebody's intelligence or knowledge
ribbing - (3) teasing: playful or friendly teasing (informal)
gavel - (a) small hammer: a small hammer used by a judge ...
imprecation - (1) curse: an oath or curse; (2) act of cursing somebody: the calling down of harm on somebody
confliction - (3) (psychology) mental struggle: a psychological state resulting from the often unconscious opposition between simultaneous but incompatible desires, needs, drives, or impulses
iteration - (1) repetition: an instance or the act of doing something again
Anyway, a significantly shorter author's note than last chapter, I know. Sorry last chapter got so long, but there was a lot to mention! And, also, once more, I know I've said this every time, but that does not mean I do not mean it—we really welcome any thoughts you feel worth sharing or you feel like taking the time to, but by no means feel like they won't be appreciated, please!
Thank you all for reading and we continue to look forward to this journey taken with all of you! We hope to see you all again next week (updates are on Wednesday evenings)! There will be more Zack-angst in the next chapter, if that heightens the suspense or garners your curiosity! See you around...