Standard disclaimer: If you saw it on TV, it belongs to Disney. Otherwise, it's mine.
A/N: Taking a break from Maddie of the Future to write an experimental fic to explore a hypothesis of mine about London. Please hold your comments until you've read the entire chapter.
A/N: Yet another story that isn't intended to fit with the Suite Life on Deck canon.
The Esoteric World of London Tipton
By
James Doyle
London Tipton answered the knocking at her door to find Cody Martin, on time, as usual, for their production meeting for Yay Me! Starring London Tipton.
"Hey Cody," greeted London. "Have a seat, I have something to show you."
London led Cody over to the sofa, where upon the coffee table sat a number of trays with precious stones. Cody had seen London's collection before, but it seemed to have grown considerably since he had last seen it.
"That's quite a collection you have," commented Cody.
"Do you like it?" asked London. Cody nodded. London clapped her hands.
"I was thinking," continued London, "that we could do a show on precious stones, and which ones look good with which outfits."
Cody nodded in approval. "I think a show about gemology would be awesome."
"Eww!" recoiled London. "I thought you were done with that whole germ project. As I recall, you almost had the hotel shut down."
"No, no," Cody quickly replied. "Not germology, gemology: The study of precious stones."
"Oh," said London, who then continued with her discussion. "This one's called amethyst. "It has a vicious luster…"
"I think you mean 'vitreous,'" interrupted Cody.
"Yeah, what you said. It's a six-sided prism in a six-sided pyramid. It looks good with anything in purple, which unfortunately does not look good on people with my skin tone."
As the afternoon went on, Cody and London discussed several more precious stones and outfits. They agreed upon a format where Cody would introduce the stones and give a brief scientific overview, and London would discuss how to accessorize them.
After the show, Cody and London looked over the massive amount of viewer comments that had poured in during the show. Most interestingly, they received invitations to join a number of gemological and mineralogical discussion groups. The last message that London examined disturbed her:
London:
I see you found your special interest, finally. I always knew you were one of us.
ASDMike1985
"What does he mean by 'one of us?'" asked London.
"I don't know," said Cody. "But I'll find out."
Later that evening, Cody returned to his suite and began his search for ASDMike1985. It didn't take long; Mike frequented a number of blogs, message boards, and chatrooms. Astonishingly, almost all of them shared a common theme: Autism.
Cody back away from the keyboard and contemplated for a moment. Did this Mike fellow really think London was autistic? Why would he think that? Was he just trying to get some celebrity cred for his pet cause? Or did he really see something in London that nobody else did?
Cody spent most of the night researching autism on the web and comparing it to his experiences with London. Piece by piece, a picture came together in Cody's mind that bore an unmistakable resemblance to London Tipton.
Carey came home late from a show, to find Cody still working.
"Cody," admonished Carey. "It's late. You should be in bed."
"I can't sleep, mom," argued Cody. "I've been thinking a lot about London."
Carey smiled and put her arms around her son. "Cody, you don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to have these kinds of feelings about her."
"No, it's not that," replied Cody. Okay, maybe it is, but that's beside the point. "Have you ever heard of Asperger's Syndrome?"
Carey nodded. "I don't know much about it, other than it's a form of autism. You don't think…London?"
"Yeah," said Cody. "I'm pretty certain that London has it."
"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Carey. "Are you sure?"
Cody showed his mother the notes he'd collected (complete with APA-style citations) on London and autism.
"Wow," said Carey. "I think you might actually be on to something." Carey sighed. "Cody, you know what you have to do."
"No way, mom," protested Cody. "I am not going to tell her. It would ruin her life. She'll hate me."
Carey put an arm around her son. "Cody, if you're right about this, then she needs to know. It's part of who she is. She'll probably be upset about it, but I don't think she'll hate you. London's smarter than she lets on. I think she'll realize you're doing this because you care about her."
Cody drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I hope you're right."
Cody rehearsed the conversation in his mind for several days. Finally, he conceded to himself that there was no easy way to tell London what he had to say. On a Sunday morning, Cody called London on the phone. After a few rings, she answered.
"What?" grumbled London groggily.
"I'm sorry to wake you up, London," apologized Cody. "But there's something I need to tell you. In person."
"Now?" croaked London.
"I'm sorry, but if I wait I might lose my nerve."
"Fine," conceded London. "Give me a half hour to get cleaned up and put my face on."
"Sure thing. I'll see you in a few."
Cody knocked on London's door forty-five minutes later. He'd long-since learned to pad London's time estimates, and it came as no surprise that she still wasn't ready. Nearly an hour after he'd called, she answered the door, clad in a house coat.
"Come in," she offered. "I ordered us some breakfast."
"That was thoughtful of you," Cody replied gratefully.
"I figured anything you'd get me out of bed for had to be pretty important," said London as she led Cody over to her breakfast nook. "So what's this about."
"It's about ASDMike1985."
London's eyes perked up. "Did you find out who he is? I'll get my lawyers on the phone right away!"
"I don't think you should do that," admonished Cody.
"Sorry, reflex," explained London. "Why not?"
Cody took a deep breath. "Because I think he's right."
"What?" exclaimed London through clenched teeth. "You think I'm a weirdo like him?"
"He's not a weirdo," defended Cody. "He has Asperger's Syndrome." Cody calmed down a bit. "And I think you do, too."
"Did you just call me an 'ass burglar?'" demanded London. "I might be stupid, but I am not gay!"
"No!" cried Cody. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You're not stupid. You never were. It's just that your brain is wired differently."
"That's just another way of saying I'm stupid," argued London.
"London, if you'll just let me explain…"
"Don't bother!" said London as began to cry. "No matter what you say, I am stupid."
"Please stop saying that!" begged Cody as his own eyes began to mist up.
"You're my friend, Cody," continued London. "I think you're my best friend. I know you wouldn't call me an 'ass burglar,' and yet I automatically assumed that's what you meant."
Cody referred London to his notes. "That's called Semantic-Pragmatic Disorder, or SPD. Your brain processes unfamiliar words and usages by analyzing the words themselves, or similar-sounding words, for the most literal meaning possible."
London contemplated for a second. "I always wondered why I-90 is called highway if it goes through an underwater tunnel."
Cody nodded. "SPD is a very common symptom of Asperger's."
"Okay," said London. "I'm with you so far. What else?"
"Be honest with me about something," instructed Cody. "Is science really that hard for you?"
"No, it's not," admitted London. "It's just boring. What should a millionaire heiress care about protons and electrons and waves and particles?"
"You didn't seem bored the other day when we were talking about silicon dioxide," noted Cody.
London grinned. "Quartz and sand are made of the substance, but quartz is so much prettier. It's just so cool knowing why that is."
"Exactly! You know which your brain wants to go, and as much as you might see the need to, it's hard for you to steer it any other way."
London got up from her stool and hugged Cody. "Finally, someone who understands!"
Cody smiled. "You say you don't like to read, but I've seen you reading fashion magazines. Judging from what you've told me about fashion, and what I've seen of your collection, there's nothing wrong with your reading comprehension."
"Oh my gosh, you're right!" said London as she scooted her stool closer to Cody so she could look at his notes. "What else?"
"I don't mean any offense by this," said Cody. "But I've noticed some anomalies in your social interactions."
London snorted as she laughed. "That's ridiculous! I have tons of friends!"
"London, most of them hang out with you because you're rich," argued Cody.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Not necessarily," replied Cody. "But think about it. How well do you really know Portia or Chelsea? What makes them tick? What do they really care about?"
"Besides being rich and fabulous?" asked London. Cody nodded in reply.
"I guess I don't really know them at all," admitted London. "Now that I think about it, you and Zack and Carey and Maddie are my only real friends."
"And why do you think that is?"
London thought about it for a moment, then began crying again. "Because you've always stuck by me no matter how hard I tried to push you away."
"That's because we all saw something in you that all the shallow, superficial people in this world didn't," explained Cody. "Everyone loved you for your money and your image, but none of that mattered to any of us."
"I never knew what to make of that," added London. "I've spent a lot of time and money cultivating my image."
"Exactly. You were brought up thinking you were better than everyone else, so it never occurred to you to think about how and why you were different."
"What else was I supposed to think?" argued London. "No matter how hard I tried, I honestly couldn't understand why people like Maddie were so happy without money. I always knew people were offended by my comments about poor people. I'm only just now starting to understand why."
"That's yet another symptom," noted Cody. "It's called Theory of Mind, because you have to formulate a theory about someone else's state of mind. Your own thought patterns are so familiar, so engrained, that it's nearly impossible for you to grasp how other people think and feel."
As the morning went on, Cody guided London through the litany of symptoms he'd observed in her. They explored everything, from her quirky, repetitive movements, to her exaggerated facial expressions, to the exaggerated affect in her voice, to her extremely lopsided set of academic skills.
London and Cody sat upon the sofa as housekeeping came in and cleaned up their breakfast. They sat in silence well beyond lunch time as London digested what Cody had revealed to her.
"So what's my next move?" asked London, finally breaking the silence.
Cody handed her a paper. "Here are some specialists, the best in Boston as near as I can tell. You really should get an evaluation. I'm not a professional, and I could be wrong about all of this."
"I'll get the evaluation," said London. "But I don't think you're wrong."
"Well, if I am right, then I suppose the next move is up to you."
"I'm going to tell all my friends…my real friends, that is. You've stood by me all these years, and you deserve to know what makes me, me."
"And your father?"
London hung her head. "I don't know if he's ready to hear about it. Cody, from what you've told me, I think he might be autistic, too."
Cody nodded. "There is some evidence to suggest it runs in families."
London scooted closer to Cody and embraced him.
"I've never had a friend like you before," said London. "I never thought anyone would care enough about me to actually figure me out."
"I'm glad I could help, and you took this a lot better than I thought you would," noted Cody. "Just remember that I'm always here for you, and you're the same London Tipton you always were."
London sighed. "And yet, everything has changed."
A/N: This story may continue. I haven't decided yet. Feel free to comment on anything in the story, including the subject matter, but please try not to turn it into a debate over autism advocacy or theories. There are other forums much better-suited to that.