Title: Catholic Schoolboys Rule!
Author: Link Worshiper
Pairings: 1=2, 3=4, mentions of others
Stuff: AU, pokes at religious institution, fluff/sap, angst, lemon topping and a bit of drag XD
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise, Bandai and a lot of other people who aren't me. +5 skill points if you guess the title reference.

Filling a request for Rainya, because she feeds my geek needs. This chapter is un-beta read and kind of short (for me), mostly because it is 7AM and I feel uber bad that life has kept me from working on this for so long D=

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XIX.

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Trowa was sitting at the table, nursing the bruises lining his forearm, when Duo came banging back into the room, clearly upset and angry. Duo flung the suitcase he was carrying onto his bed and then collapsed facedown onto the mattress, pummeling his pillows with his fist. "He used to be so warm and affectionate," he growled, his voice muffled by either the pillows or perhaps even some tears - Trowa couldn't be sure.

"What happened?" Trowa asked, trying hard to put his injuries out of mind. Heero had hit him hard enough, but it had been the crash against the table's edge that had really hurt.

"My fortune's faded, that's what," Duo lamented, finally hauling himself back up into a seated position. He threw his arms akimbo and shouted up at the ceiling, "Come on, God: do I seem bulletproof?"

"Maybe fate is trying to test you," said Trowa with a shrug. It was hard to tell if he was trying to condone the situation or not.

"Bullshit," Duo spat bitterly, glaring at the suitcase he'd taken from Heero, which lay innocuously on the bed beside him. "That's the same crap Mother Superior tried to dump on me when my medallions went missing in the first place, and I don't buy it for five goddamn seconds."

"Why not?" Trowa prodded.

"Why not?" Duo repeated emphatically. He snatched up the suitcase and popped it open, ripping out the first item he could get his hand around and brandishing it at Trowa: "This is why the fuck not," he said, shaking the spiral-bound tome he held.

Trowa glanced up at Duo, arching his eyebrows at the book. "What is that?" he wanted to know.

For the first time, Duo took an inquisitive pause to look at what he was holding. Across the front cover was simply the word ZERO, and a quick flip through the pages revealed a series of technical drawings and extensive notes that Duo hardly cared to read too closely. He flung the book back into the suitcase and summed up: "Anyway, whatever; the point is that the fucking little jackass was the one nabbing everybody's valuables just so he could have a little extra cash. What a douche."

Trowa slumped back in his chair and hummed as if he'd expected Duo to say something like that. "Well, I suppose there's nothing to be done about it," he mused blandly.

"There is, and I did it already," Duo said acerbically. "I didn't want to have to set up for the kill, but I did - it's what I was supposed to do."

Trowa arched his eyebrows, apparently even a bit surprised that Duo had reacted so harshly. "You're not even just going to put things on hold? Maybe you should talk about it again when you're more calm."

Duo jerked his head away with a sharp sneer, his lip curled, though even the bitterness he tried to mold into his face did very little to mask how much he was hurting inside. "I had to walk away, Tro - it was better that way," he insisted, sounding a bit more like he was trying to convince himself more than Trowa. "I used to be so full of confidence - used to know everything I wanted and where to go - but now... now I just have no idea anymore." He paused thoughtfully for a moment and then added more definitively, "No, it's better to do it - to take action. He can be the one to decide what he wants to do about it now."

"Huh, that's funny," Trowa replied, experimentally poking another one of his bruises with a morbid wince. "Because it sounds to me more like the only decision you made was just not to decide anything and run away instead."

Trowa was pointedly nonchalant in his commentary, and it somehow drove Duo mad that the impact this whole thing was having on him seemed to be lost on his lackadaisical roommate. After spending so long shielding himself from any real sense of connection with anyone, this was the first time Duo had ever had to deal with something like this and it was frustrating to feel like Trowa didn't seem all that interested in helping him out. It felt like a new kind of loneliness.

"Yeah, well, fuck you, too, Trowa! I don't need you to hem and haw over my problems like they're a fanciful interest to you," Duo snapped, not really in the mood for Trowa's ambiguities. "God, nobody can even tell me what my remorse is...."

Trowa answered as if his conclusion was obtusely simple: "Then why don't you talk about it?"

"You're not my confessor, Trowa," Duo said bluntly, his fingers drumming angrily on the leather top of the suitcase. Idly, he then thought maybe he should go about returning the items inside.

"Then go walk alone and talk about it with yourself," Trowa responded glibly, not about to let Duo slide so easily. He wasn't exactly thrilled with this new development about Heero himself, but he still thought that Duo should learn how to keep what he'd bred with Heero alive; there had been something in Duo's eyes when had been with Heero that Trowa had never seen before, but it was wholly endearing - like Duo had finally figured out how to be happy for himself.

With a frustrated sigh, Duo dug his fingers into one eye socket, rubbing it tiredly. "Ugh, it's just too fresh, okay?" He gripped the handle of the suitcase tightly like it was his sole anchor in the world. Maybe going somewhere to be by himself wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe he'd go and hide out somewhere for a few days so he could just think.

"Looks to me like heaven sent this for your roughest night," said Trowa as Duo stood up to go.

"Whatever, Trowa," Duo said over his shoulder as he trudged towards the door, hardly in the mood for anything else his roommate had to say. "It's not like someone as indifferent as you would have any idea how I feel right now. I can sing the blues if I damn well want to."

He made sure to slam the door behind him on his way out, all the while unaware that the next time he would see Heero Yuy, the boy from the moon would be dead.

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Quatre had thought it was strange when Duo had wordlessly walked up to him the other day and handed him the wallet he'd given up for long lost ages ago. It was stranger still when he opened it and found almost everything he remembered stashing there still in place. But even stranger than that was the rediscovery of his digital passport card, which now visibly looked like it belonged to one Heero Yuy in everything but name. He wondered what it meant and thought to ask Duo, but by the time he had gotten the notion to, Duo had been nowhere to be found. He supposed he might as well just go right to the source with it, but then again, Heero had also been oddly scarce for the past few days as well. And that was the strangest thing of all.

Trowa didn't seem to want to talk about either of them, so it left Quatre with a lot of time alone to think about what might be wrong - because surely something was out of joint. He was motivated by the lack of doubt that everyone's strange attitude as of late had everything to do with the sudden reappearance of his wallet. Though his theory wasn't perfect, he knew he was close - he simply had to be.

Heero definitely seemed off the mark, though: Quatre could tell by the way he carried himself and his return to the gruff mannerisms he'd displayed when he'd first arrived at Saint Magdalena's. If Heero wasn't in class, then he was back in their dorm room, curled up on the bed and facing the wall, all the while pretending to sleep so he wouldn't have to engage Quatre or Wufei in conversation of any kind. Wufei seemed to be of the mindset that letting Heero be was for the best, but Quatre thought that this sudden turn was an awfully unhealthy turn, and it concerned him greatly. After a week of observing this behaviour from his side of the room, Quatre decided that enough was enough.

"Heero," he said firmly one evening as his depressed roommate returned from fencing practice. "Heero, please, let me know why you're so upset?"

Quatre had expected to be ignored, and he was: Heero acted as if Quatre hadn't spoken at all and routinely slumped across the room to his bed, where he halfheartedly kicked off his shoes and started out of his jacket. But that wasn't going to deter Quatre in the slightest, so he persisted. "Heero," he said again, addressing Heero in an even firmer tone; "You know that I'm your friend: I'm here to talk to if you want to unload something that's weighing you down."

Sitting on the edge of his mattress, half dressed in his uniform pants and oxford, Heero glanced up and wordlessly stared across the space between their two beds. With tired eyes underscored with a sallow darkness and his cheeks unnaturally hollow, he looked tired and ill rested, despite the fact that he spent most of his free time in bed anymore. The mysterious glimmer that used to settle in the depths of his eyes had become dull and empty, and Quatre almost felt as if Heero was staring right through him.

"We can talk until the morning light if you need to," Quatre prodded hopefully, trying hard not to let Heero's stubbornness win out. There was a momentary pause, and then Quatre dared to toe upon dangerous territory: "Is this something to do with Duo?" he asked. "Something happened between you two, didn't it."

His comment was a statement of fact, and the assured way that he bit into the issue was enough to chew at the place where Heero was weakest right then. Almost as if on cue, the hardened, empty look on his face melted into one that was so drawn with emotion, he looked like he might explode.

An empathetic expression crossed Quatre's face at this: "It's okay to tell other people how you feel, Heero," he said. "Otherwise, it'll just chew away at you on the inside."

Heero wasn't sure why Quatre always seemed to be the best confidante in his most trying moments, but just like the last time Quatre had prodded him to express himself, he quickly found everything that had been welling up inside pouring freely from his lips. "I'm a thousand million miles from home, okay?" he began, his eyes darting all around the room and refusing to settle on Quatre. "I lived there alone, left there alone and came here alone, and that's the way it was supposed to be until... until he happened. He wasn't supposed to - I was sure to remain by myself, but I... I couldn't have prepared for Duo Maxwell, I guess. Or maybe I just didn't expect him to... to...."

Quatre arched his eyebrows. "To...?"

Heero hung his head, still refusing to look Quatre in the eye as he mumbled to himself: "...to save my life." He covered the top of his skull and pressed down into it with the heels of his hands like he was trying to vent some kind of frustration. "When I got here, I was stranded - hardly even knew anybody's name and didn't really care to. I had this plan to gather enough money to buy a shuttle ticket out of here to L3 - to use my skills to cover my tracks and get out of the shit rut my life had become. I thought that would be the best thing for me."

"So that's why you nicked my wallet," Quatre said as his eyes darted to his wallet, which was lying on the bedside table. A little smile teased the corner of his mouth as he added, "I guess you can't need something until you've been met with it, right?"

Heero was shaking his head, though it was hard to tell at whom the gesture was directed. "No, no, you don't understand," he was saying breathlessly. He began to ramble almost incoherently, no longer caring if Quatre understood what he meant. "I had to get out of there. Th-They'd make me - my grandfather has this... this rocket module, you know? Some government funded thing he called ZERO and he'd make me help him with it. Hours in that cockpit because I was the only one he had that was small enough to fit inside and - and...." He buried his face into his hands, his shoulders heaving, and Quatre thought he might have started to sob a little.

"Heero?" Quatre asked gently, though his brow was cut firmly across his forehead, a tight frown on his lips. He desperately wanted to ask Heero what kinds of things he meant by 'helping', but he wasn't sure if that would just unnerve Heero further, so he resisted the temptation. Still, it angered him to think that Heero had been subject to such emotional mistreatment.

"So I stole it, see? I stole the schematics and took them with me when I left." Eyes damp, Heero lifted his head, looking at Quatre for the first time. "I knew that thing better than anybody and I didn't like it. God knows what they were going to actually use that engine for, but I wasn't about to hang around to find out!" He jerked his gaze to the side once more, now looking far more embittered than he had before. "I should have been on L3 by now, far away from my stupid, fucking father and his stupid, fucking father." He started pulling at his long bangs. "Maybe I'd have found o-kaa-san by now, and she'd take care of me again. Maybe she'd love me...." There were tears dotting Heero's cheeks now, but this time he made no move to hide them behind his hands. "I mean, for God's sake, I'm just a fucking kid, and I've never known what the hell that's even like."

Quatre's heart seemed to physically burn at Heero's plight, but he wasn't sure what else he could offer besides a friendly ear and some advice. For better or for worse, the best thing he could think to say right then was, "But Heero, isn't that what Duo did? Love you? Isn't that what you feel - felt - for him?"

"I was just another fucking conquest for him, okay? Duo Maxwell doesn't give two shits about me, just like every fucking other person I've ever known," Heero shouted, pounding his fist angrily into the mattress. Though Quatre's comment had made Heero's emotions flare, it was obvious that the resentment that poisoned his tongue was borne of how hurt he was and not any actual hatred towards Duo himself. Calming himself a little, Heero growled morosely, "So, yeah, so long, Duo. I don't want to have to, but I will, if that's what I'm supposed to do. I guess I ought to just walk away."

Quatre could only stare back, flabbergasted. "Heero, you can't really mean that," he stammered, overflowing with disbelief. "I mean, what would he say if you stayed? I'm sure he'll want to you come around again as soon as he's gotten over... whatever it was that got between you."

"It's not important anymore," Heero said flatly, tossing his shoulders without an ounce of care. "It wouldn't make a damn difference if I changed everything but my name. It's over." He lifted his chin, a breath lingering between his lips as he sighed conclusively. "Though, then again, there was a moment where I truly did think he'd want to come with me...."

"Heero, I...." Quatre found himself unable to think of anything suitable to say.

"Just forget it, alright? Nothing you can say or do is going to fix anything and make it better," Heero retorted coarsely, finally ripping off his jacket and tossing it haplessly to the floor. In one fell motion, he leaned back and rolled over on his bed, turning his back on Quatre and clutching his pillow tightly to his chest.

Quatre had lifted his finger like he meant to make some kind of rejoining point, but he let it curl down as the notion to do so died off. Staring at Heero as his torso rose and fell with his gentle breath, Quatre found himself wondering what he could do to rectify things anyway. Another glance at his wallet concocted an impulsive idea, and he reached for it. "Heero, here," he addressed his disheartened roommate again as he withdrew his altered passport and laid it on Heero's half of the bedside dresser they shared. "You can keep this, alright? When I need to, I'll just tell my father I lost mine, but for now, I think you could use it more than I could. So, here, just... take it when you want to, alright?"

A soft grunt issued from Heero's throat, and Quatre allowed himself a little smile: it might not have been much, but it was better than nothing.

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Many hours later, around 2AM, Quatre's eyes jolted and sat bolt right up in bed. He blinked into the darkness of the room, his vision adjusting to the shadows that filled it as he tried to figure out what had startled him awake so suddenly. His heart was pounding, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall having any sort of nightmares. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was making him very uneasy. He cast his eyes over towards Heero's bed, frowning at the realization that it was empty. For a moment, he wondered if Heero had finally just taken off, but his proffered passport was still lying on the bedside table, and it was doubtful that Heero could have gotten very far without it, and that concerned him. He wondered if it was something worth waking Wufei up for, but was then quick to decide that maybe he ought to investigate things a little more before he roused a cranky Wufei on the whim of a feeling.

Still, premonition or not, Quatre knew there was something wrong and that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until he had figured out what it was. He wished he could have gone to get Duo, but judging from the conversation he'd had with Heero earlier, it was doubtful that Duo would be of any use, and though Quatre wasn't the sort to get annoyed easily, he found himself increasingly frustrated by that fact. So, somewhat morosely, he climbed out of bed, shoved his feet into the pair of slippers he kept on the floor nearby and then shuffled towards the door, deciding that even if he didn't discover where Heero had gone, a quick tour of the hallway would at least ease his mind.

Walking in the darkened hallway was surreal to Quatre, who had yet to really wander the school by night. With only the light of the moon to see by, the Gothic architecture of the building seemed otherworldly, and it made Quatre feel as if he were walking through a dream, even though he was very aware of the fact that he was most certainly awake. He thought it strange to move through the usually lively hallways when they were empty; it made him feel as if everyone else was dead, and he was the last person in the school with a breath in his lungs.

Along his way, the sound of running water in the pipes alerted Quatre to the fact that he was near the bathroom, and the idea to perhaps splash some onto his face suddenly became a very amiable one. He quickly detoured in that direction and pushed the door open, half expecting to see someone there and only spooking himself when he realized he was alone. No matter; he gritted his teeth and told himself to stop being so jumpy as he paced deliberately towards one of the sinks.

Opening the tap, he wet his hands and then cupped them, allowing a small pool of water to gather before flicking it up over his face. The shock of the wetness felt good and he repeated it a few more times before turning the water off again. However, as he turned to go, two things happened at once: firstly, he realized that he could still hear that water running through the pipes, and much more clearly at that, now that he was actually standing in the bathroom, and secondly, that he was standing in a puddle that was soaking through his slippers and into his skin. His hands suddenly were very clammy as he balled them into fists, his chest tight with that uneasy feeling once again.

Both the sound and the source of the puddle (which, he was quick to realize, was leaking across the floor like a deviant stream) were coming from the side of the room that housed the bathtubs - another thing to sting Quatre's unease, since no one he knew ever used them. Kicking aside his sodden slippers, Quatre slowly tiptoed towards the tubs, the rushing water sounding louder in his ears as he approached.

It didn't take him long to find the bathtub that was the culprit for the mess, and he instinctively ran towards it and shut off the running tap before turning to deal with the overflowing water. Except for when he did, he could only cover his mouth as his breath became locked deep in his chest at the sight he beheld.

For there, with one pale-skinned arm draped over the lip of the tub, was Heero Yuy, his empty eyes staring deadly up at Quatre from beneath the surface of the water.

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emo story is emo??? Haha, just remember, this is me, so strangely enough, it'll all turn out well in the end =P

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