Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Heero PoV. Very different take on Duo.
Spoilers: Just Duo and Heero jumping from school to school
Notes: This fic is the reason I am not a member of the SDDI. And despite my full support of the SDDI, I'm not ashamed of that. :)
"==========" - scene change
*blah* - emphasis
As I promised Duo, at the next school I registered us in classes in line with his test results. I didn't need to place both of us in the same classes, really. By this time I'd known Duo long enough to know he wouldn't blow his cover, or mine. But staying close ensured that nothing could happen to one of us without the other knowing, and without the need to actually pay attention in class I was able to put in extra time on mission objectives. It seemed a favorable situation all around.
For the first few days, Duo agreed wholeheartedly. He set about his usual habit of charming all the teachers and half the student body, found out which cafeteria workers would give extra servings if wheedled correctly, and spent a few minutes copying over his homework before plunging into his latest entertainment obsession until lights-out. By the end of the first week, though, he was giving me funny looks when he'd come in and find his homework finished for him. He looked at the assignments I'd finished less and less, spending more and more time working on them himself. Halfway through the second week, he picked up the papers I'd laid out for him to copy, dumped them in the trash without looking at them, and opened his chemistry book.
"Baka, that was my homework!"
"Then keep it on your desk," he griped, kicking the trashcan towards me.
Frowning, I retrieved the papers. "You can't copy it if you don't have it, Duo."
"You think?"
Dealing with Duo had at least taught me to recognize sarcasm. I bit back the frustration and turned back to reviewing our latest mission parameters. Duo would do what he wanted. Which would, in all likelihood, include griping about how hard the assignments were for an hour before asking for my help. I could wait.
He surprised me. I should really have gotten used to that by then. He griped, certainly. Griped, cursed, threatened, cajoled, and occasionally cheered triumphantly. But in the three hours it took him to complete his assignments, he never once asked for my help, and when he was finished he wore the same self-satisfied smirk he usually sported after a particularly tough MS battle. "Ha! The God of Death triumphs again!"
For the life of me, I couldn't understand his good cheer. I had taken less than a half-hour to complete the same amount of work. In another ten minutes the dorm monitors would be calling lights out. Three hours had been wasted while he struggled with homework, and he was happy about it.
The rest of our time in that school went the same way, save that I no longer left my assignments out for him to copy. Sometimes he complained about the lack of free time, but for the most part he worked hard and was glad to do it. And I wasn't the only one who found this behavior odd. During a study group (which Duo joined to improve his English Lit and I joined to keep an eye on Duo), a girl finally commented, "You don't have to like school *that* much, Duo. You're almost as bad as my brother!"
"So what's wrong with that?"
"He's *seven*, that's what."
While the discussion returned to comparative analysis of a Shakespearean tragedy, Greek mythology, and musical theatre, I considered the exchange. So the other students also found Duo unusually enthusiastic. Duo was unusually enthusiastic about a lot of things, so that in and of itself wasn't of concern. Except she'd also compared him to a younger sibling, indicating such behavior would be typical of the very young. All right, there were many behaviors that were acceptable in children, but were not in teenagers or adults. Apparently, enthusiasm was one of those.
Was Duo simply developmentally stunted? It would certainly explain his IQ. But no, aside from the schoolwork issue, Duo fit in with his peers seamlessly, far better than I did. And I've seen other students discuss sports, dating, and other social events with the same, or even higher, levels of involvement. School was a particular quirk, then, the same way some people enjoy food that others don't.
Revised theory: enthusiasm about school was a behavior typical of children, but unacceptable in higher age groups.
Why? And why did Duo, who should have found the work discouragingly impossible, relish the difficult schoolwork?
The more I considered the question, the more I realized the error in it. He *hadn't* enjoyed school before this, not since I first registered him in classes. And though Duo certainly struggled with the assignments now, they weren't as difficult for him as I might have anticipated. I'd taken to reviewing his homework, and estimated he was maintaining a solid "C" average in most classes, might even scrape a "B" in history. So he enjoyed schoolwork he could do. That brought up an interesting question: did he enjoy it because it was within his capacities, or because it challenged them?
And it didn't answer the question of why Duo enjoyed what his classmates so blatantly did not.
The need to understand this was strong. For the first time I realized just how vital Duo's presence had become. He was my colleague, my partner, even, possibly, my friend. At the very least, I needed to know as much about him as possible to adequately anticipate the effect of his presence on our missions. Beyond that, however, was an unfamiliar, personal desire to know more about him. I estimated another two weeks to complete our mission at this location. If Duo didn't lose interest in academics in that time, I decided I would step up the curriculum at our next school, and observe his reaction.
Somewhere there was an answer to the puzzle of Duo Maxwell, and I intended to find it.