Author's Note: I do not own The Suite Life of Zack and Cody or any of the characters. I realized I didn't really have a story about London, so I decided to write one. However, bad habits crept in and I had to use Cody as a crutch. Pathetic, I know. Anyways, I hope you like it. Not my best work, but yeah.

"So, where's London?" Cody looked around the lobby in surprise. "I don't see her and it's kind of strange."

"Oh…" Maddie broke off from where she was talking to Zack and looked at Cody, flicking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Um, I haven't seen London since last night. It seems like she's locked herself in her suite because her dad didn't show up for her father-daughter dance at our school yesterday. I mean, she was kind of looking forward to it for the last five months. I tried to go and talk to her…" she paused, looking rather worried, "but she wouldn't let me in."

"Well that kind of stinks," Zack said. He turned disinterestedly to Maddie.

Cody looked worriedly at his shoes, drowning out the voices of Zack and Maddie next to him. Sure, he'd never cared much for London—her intelligence level rather bothered him, but honestly, London had never locked herself up in her suite before, for the two years he'd been at the Tipton. He thought harder though, and realized London had changed a lot from the shallow, air-headed heiress he'd known two years ago. He turned and headed for the elevator. There was something he had to do.

…

London whimpered softly as she brushed a hand across her eyes. Black smears of mascara lined her face, but for once in her life, she didn't care about her appearance. Silent tears ran down her flawless skin, and she buried her face back in the pillow.

All she'd ever wanted was her father just to come home, for once. She remembered one day in school when they'd had a lecture where each person had to choose only one word to describe each one of their parents. Maddie had described her mother as "caring" and her father as "understanding." Corrie had said her mother was "spontaneous" (London laughed, knowing where Corrie had gotten it from), and her father was "quiet." Mary Margaret's had been "gentle" and "firm." London had thought so hard about what to describe her parents, trying desperately to think of something good about her parents, but as she thought, she felt as though enclosed in a dark tunnel—realizing that she didn't know her parents at all.

Now, as she lay in the bed, she'd found the word that truly described her father: dedicated. He was dedicated to his work, to his current wife, to his passions. But sometimes she wished he could spend more time with her—be more dedicated to her. She rarely saw him; right now she was still in Boston while he was in Tokyo. God, she just wanted him to talk to her, spend one full day with her. Was that so much to ask for?

She flipped through pages of several scrapbooks placed on her bed. She bit her lip, her brown eyes shining with tears, as she noticed how few pictures her father was in; the hotel staff and her friends were in the album more than her own parents were.

She heard a hesitant knock at the door and looked up, feeling self-conscious even though she realized that whoever was there had no way of seeing her through the door. "Go away!"

There was silence, and London was disappointed. Somehow she hoped the person at the door would refuse to give up and leave her alone like her father had done so many times.

Feeling the tears rise again, she heard the knock again. "Go away!" She hated herself for sounding like such a spoiled brat, but London had grown to use this covering as a security blanket. So many times she had been let down by her father—it was better not to let anybody else in.

Maddie had almost been let in several times but London was so jealous of the other girl sometimes she couldn't let her in. She couldn't let her in to the difficulties of her life; the other would probably scoff and shrug it off. London was filthy rich; what could be wrong in her life?

Moseby too. He'd always been more of a father than her biological one ever had, but London was afraid to sound ungrateful in front of him. He was so firm, so stern, but at least he loved her.

The person at the door didn't let up.

"GO AWAY!" London's voice broke in pain, her wail a cry of misery begging to escape. "I know it's you, Moseby, Carey, or Maddie or… Esteban, go away! I don't want to talk to you and I just… go away!"

There was silence and London felt disappointment again. But what did she expect? By shoving all the people who tried to help her away, there was no hope. But she was afraid to let anybody else in; they'd just leave like her father had.

"It's Cody," came a quiet voice. "Can I come in?"

"Cody?" London was rather surprised. What did he want? "Why… why are you here?"

"I just thought you might need someone to talk to," was the definite reply. There was nothing sly about his answer; it was just the straightforward truth.

"Uh…" London said uncertainly. Finally, she decided, "Come in." What could happen?

She walked over and opened the door, hoping Cody wouldn't tell anybody about her in such a distressed manner. The blonde boy stood there, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Hey, London," the blonde teenager whispered, taken aback at her disheveled appearance. "Maddie told me about what happened and… I guess I just thought you might want to have someone to talk to."

"Ok," said London quietly. She walked over and sat on her bed, wiping away some of her tears and leaving black smears on the back of her hand. "I don't… know what to say exactly."

Cody felt himself flame; somehow, and rather stupidly, he'd believed all he had to do was come up and London would do all the talking. "So what's going on with your dad?"

"It was just this dance at school," London said carelessly, trying to make it seem as if it was no big deal. But inside her heart wrenched, and she knew she was being untruthful. "And I wanted my dad to come and I called him almost everyday for the last month and he said he'd show up and I was really excited but on the actual day he didn't show up and now I'm really kind of disappointed and hurt because I figured I meant more to him than that," she stopped abruptly to catch her breath as her voice arched onto a higher note of pain. "I don't know, Cody, I mean I'm his only child and he can't even spend time with me? What's wrong with me, Cody? Why am I not good enough for him? Why am I not important at all? Why does he spend all his time with all his wives, working all the time? Why doesn't he love me?"

Cody was quiet, afraid to answer the cascade of questions. London sighed in frustration and buried her head in a pillow, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

There was silence, only broken by quivering sighs from London.

"I don't know, London," came Cody's voice. He patted her awkwardly on the back. "I really don't. I don't understand why he wouldn't want to talk to you because you're such a nice person. I mean, you act kind of stupid a lot, but you're actually really sensitive. I guess I've just never really seen who you are before because you were always so busy flaunting yourself around."

London looked up at him, her eyes reddened around the rims. "It's kind of like a security blanket, Cody. You know like Blankie? It's my way of hiding that I'm really hurt. Sometimes…" she sighed, "I want to be like Maddie. I'd give anything to be like her; even though she's not so rich or anything, she's got a family that loves her. My parents hate each other—my dad and mom throw stuff at each other when they're around and they don't even care about how much it hurts me…"

"It's ok, London," Cody said, stroking her black waterfall of hair, his brown eyes truthful. "It's ok to show emotion; we're all human after all." His voice choked with tears as he glanced at London's hurt face. "It's ok to tell your dad when you're disappointed; don't hide it, London. I…" his voice broke, "I used to hide a lot of stuff that hurt when my dad left. Zack and I were only ten, you know. I always thought it was my fault—like I messed up or something and he didn't want to stay with Zack and me anymore, but one day I was with him and we just talked and he helped me understand it wasn't my fault and I wasn't to blame—it's just things didn't work out," he spat out bitterly. "And it's not our fault, but we're human and we're imperfect, London. You've got to know that.

"And your dad loves you, London—he's just human too and he can't see how much he's missing out on. I mean, no offense London, but I sort of hated you two years ago—you acted so shallow and so stupid—and now you're just someone so beautiful and…" he stopped, feeling himself flame as he pushed a clump of hair out of his eyes.

London was staring at him hard, trying to keep the whimpers in her throat from showing. "Thanks Cody." She closed her eyes, tears matting her eyelashes together. Her fragile voice shook as she pulled Cody towards her in a tight embrace. "Thanks, I needed that."

"Anytime London," whispered Cody. "Anytime."

End.

Author's Note: Review? Maybe? I'm going to write a London-centric soon so keep your eyes open.