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. Thanks to everyone who gave it a once-over.

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VII.

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Despite the fact that Quatre's aim for his stay at Saint Magdalena's was to experience as much of Earth as he could, as of late, he found his attentions a bit more focused on one Trowa Barton. He supposed it was just as well, since he was of the opinion that there was nothing more valuable than a good, lifelong friend. Trowa's almost Zen-like approach to life appealed to Quatre very much, finding it a welcome change from the chaotic circus that his home life on L4 resembled. Duo liked to make fun of how much time the pair of them had started to spend with each other and called them 'the lovebirds', and though the joke made Quatre turn bright pink, Trowa's casual indifference to it made Quatre wonder. He wasn't entirely sure he was unhappy with the things he tended to conclude after such musings.

But that was another issue entirely, and it usually only plagued Quatre when he was enjoying a solitary moment or two. At present, Trowa's good company and the cloudless sky were the forerunners on Quatre's mind, and there was little that would do to distract him. They were wandering through town together, looking for a good way to waste the afternoon and pointedly avoiding their homework assignments.

"I still can't get over this," Quatre was telling Trowa as they strode down a shady side street that was hung with linen-draped clotheslines and canopied by a webbing of leafy boughs, which had already started their autumn decay. "The entire structure of things is completely different on the colony. There, the city stretches out all the way around the central hub and all the buildings are much closer together and far more industrial. At least on L4, anyway." He folded his arms behind his back and looked up, still not tired of the way the sunlight peeking through the foliage warmed his face. "And up in space, everything is so forced and generated. Like, even though they have a system to simulate night and day and weather and all that, it's not the same as this - not at all. And the few trees they breed up there are small and scraggly weeds compared to these beautiful giants. I didn't even know trees could get so big before I came down here!"

Trowa chuckled wryly, also taking the moment to look up at the trees. "And I can't get over how fascinated you are by all this," he said, trying hard to look at them as if they were brand new to him as well. "You remind me of myself the first time I came to Earth." His speech slowed a little as the thought provoked a slew of memories. "In a way, it's sort of sad that I've become so jaded to it all."

"I don't think I could ever get tired of this," Quatre insisted with a shake of his blond head. "On L4, everything's the same, but here, the world is always changing - there's always something new and wonderful!" As if on cue, as Quatre said that, a sleek dragonfly zipped around his head and took off towards a nearby pot of flowers, which Quatre couldn't help but pursue with the interest of a young child. Insects weren't commonplace on the space colonies either, especially a high-end satellite like the ones found in the L4 cluster. He crouched by the pot and watched the dragonfly settle delicately on a leaf, acutely aware of the fact that Trowa was standing directly behind him. "Tell me about your first time to Earth, Trowa," he asked, hoping to distract himself from those dastardly awkward thoughts he'd been having about the tall rower lately.

Trowa shrugged. "It's not a very exciting story. My parents used to be in the entertainment business, so we did a lot of colony hopping. The first time we came to Earth, I think I was about ten or eleven. We stayed in some city by the sea, and I couldn't get enough of it - the ocean, that is. Every day, I made my dad take me down to the beach so I could stand in the wake. I know it's not such a big deal, but to a little kid who'd grown up spaceside, seeing this big expanse of water ebb and move like it had a mind of its own was really an amazing thing." He shrugged, thinking about the story a bit more. "I told you it wasn't very exciting."

Quatre stood up, the dragonfly forgotten, and turned around to face the other teenager. "I don't think that's stupid," he said. "I would love to see the ocean in real life one day."

Trowa stared blankly at Quatre for a few moments, unsure of how to respond at first. Quatre was so eager in everything he did, moved by even the smallest, everyday joys one often overlooked in day-to-day life, and for Trowa, who had been bred to be more on the cynical side, it was sometimes completely baffling that Quatre could be that way. At last, a slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips; "Then someday, I'll take you to see it. A picture on the vid screen isn't even close to having your feet in the sand and the salty air beneath your nose."

"I can't wait!" Quatre grinned, balling his fists with excitement as he started to walk down the street again. Trowa followed, taking long strides to catch up with Quatre. He was glad to share this time with the blond spacer. Everyone at Saint Magdalena's was so drab and angry all the time - Duo always talked about how he'd rather be dead - but Quatre was a breed of his own, happy to be alive and to revel in things that brought. Trowa supposed he'd never really realized just how depressing his school actually was until he knew Quatre, but he grew more and more thankful every day that he'd managed to ply himself free of that destructive routine with Quatre's introduction into his life.

Still, despite the fact that Quatre's joy was unnaturally infectious, for some reason, Trowa was struck with the urge to ask Quatre something that had been bothering him for a while now. As they reached the end of the little street and turned onto a larger road, Trowa said, "So how is it that you've never been to Earth before, anyway? I mean - no offense or anything - it's not like your family doesn't have the means to come here whenever they like and all...." He trailed off, suddenly feeling like he was being inappropriate and berated himself for not keeping his curiosities to himself.

"Oh... I...." Quatre's merry jaunt came to an abrupt halt, causing Trowa to almost careen straight into his back. The blonde stood quietly on the sidewalk for a few moments as the pedestrians streamed around them, his thought-gathered dotted every now and again with the wailing of a car horn or the rev of an engine.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," Trowa assured Quatre after they'd lingered like that for a few uncomfortable moments too long.

Quatre waved his hand dismissively, though he still seemed a bit distracted. "No, I.... It's not a big deal," he insisted, his head swiveling this way and that but never once settling in Trowa's direction. He espied another side street and blindly reached out to tug Trowa's sleeve; "Come on; this way," he said. Trowa followed obediently.

Stepping off the busy road returned them to that quieter, more intimate atmosphere they'd enjoyed on the last side street. Quatre led the way to the a blank stretch of someone's high garden wall and leaned against it beneath the cool shelter of the tall tree leaning over its top. Trowa leaned against the plaster wall as well, pinning his hands behind the small of his back and ready to lend a sympathetic ear. "Really, I'm sorry if I offended you," he reiterated sincerely, a little startled by this morose face he'd never seen on Quatre before.

Quatre shrugged and finally turned another smile at Trowa, though it was painfully obvious this one didn't spread as naturally as his previous ones tended to. "It's not your fault," he said with a bit of strain on his voice. "Maybe it's good if I vent a little. I never really have had a chance to express my frustrations about my family, really." He still seemed a bit skeptical to talk about it, though.

"Well, I'm here to listen," said Trowa, directing his attention towards the small fountain opposite them. A transparent gush of water glugged out of the mouth of a lion-shaped spout and into a molded basin beneath. He could tell Quatre had gotten a bit on edge, and he was only too aware that he was responsible for this sudden change in character. He decided to be very conservative in his dealings with this conversation.

"I told you about my dad, right? How he's so stifling?" Quatre began slowly, just as unsure as to how he ought to approach the subject. "It's because of my mother, you see. She's of an awfully weak constitution." Quatre had taken to counting the coral pink cobblestones beneath that spiraled out from the toes of his shoes, all his previous mirth dissipated like a thin vapour in the late afternoon breeze. "I heard a doctor tell him once that she was going to die. Very, very soon."

Trowa immediately angled himself away from the wall, unable to keep his eyes from Quatre's sad face anymore. The glow that he usually associated with the blond spacer was dulled in the shadow of the big tree, leaving Quatre exposed with a fragile skin. There were dozens of things he thought he'd like to say, but all of them rang false in his ears before they passed his lips, so he said nothing and instead simply reached out to lay a hand on the spacer's upper arm.

"You don't have to feel bad for me, Trowa. I've had a long time to get used to the idea," Quatre said in a tone that clearly denoted that he had not. "She's been dying all my life - she got sick around the time she was pregnant with me. I think it instilled this habitual over protectiveness in my dad. He seems imposing at first, but I think he has trouble accepting the fact he's going to lose mom, and I guess the idea of something also happening to one of his children is just... I don't know...." Throughout this whole confession, Quatre remained still and resolute, like the things he was saying weren't as heartbreaking as they honestly were. At last, though, he shook his head and gave up, threading his fingers through his hair and clamping them tightly against his skull. "I just don't know..." he mumbled closing his eyes tightly and trying hard to siphon his tears back into his pores.

Trowa's grip only tightened on Quatre's arm, hoping to be steady for the other teenager in his sadness. "You don't have to know," Trowa said with that natural calm of his. "It's not something we're meant to understand, I think."

"Yeah," murmured Quatre in halfhearted agreement.

Trowa wasn't going to have any of that. More than ever, he realized how much he needed Quatre's positive outlook; his life was unenjoyable and meaningless without it. He grabbed Quatre by the shoulders and spun him so they were facing each other. "But you're here and you're alive," he said sincerely into Quatre's startled blue eyes. "Shouldn't that be enough?"

Quatre had trouble meeting the rower's eyes, his gaze downcast at the cobblestones still. "Hardly," he mumbled. "She's my mother...."

Trowa gave Quatre a small shake, realizing that the blonde had missed what he was trying to get at. He hoped he didn't come off badly in saying what he had, but he didn't like the way Quatre so easily let his soul bleed dry with these thoughts. "But she loves you, right? I'm sure it would pain her even more to think that you were so sad on her account," he went on, squinting his eyes and bowing his head. "She gave you life - don't you think that you should thank her by enjoying it as you always do?"

Quatre stared back at Trowa, his hands hanging limply at his sides and cognizant only of the way Trowa's palms seemed to burn through the cotton sleeves of his shirt. He wondered if Trowa could feel his powerful pulse roaring through his entire being. He wasn't sure how Trowa had managed to dispel years and years of mounting unrest about his family, but there it was. Maybe it was less in what he said than the fact that it was he who said it.

"Come on," said Trowa, pushing Quatre back towards the busy street, which was still thrumming with activity. "I know a good place where we can sit and have crepes. There's something I want to ask you about, anyway." This time, it was Trowa's turn to stride ahead, somehow confident that Quatre wouldn't be too far behind him.

They followed the busy street to the town's main square, which was clotted with dozens of shops and restaurants, all of which were bustling and ringing with movement. The familiar light started to shine across Quatre's features as they moved through the cheery atmosphere, Trowa was glad to note. They eventually came upon a small cafˇ with a quaint table-lined patio out front. They got a table for two near the street and sat facing it so they could watch the people pass by.

"So," Quatre began tentatively as he took a sip of the root beer float the waiter had just set down in front of him; "What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Huh?" Trowa jumped, distracted enough to have forgotten that he'd even said such a thing. He had to stop and mull over that for a bit. "Oh yeah," he said when he finally remembered. "You have good rhythm, right? I mean, you can keep a pretty good tempo, you think?"

"What?" Now it was Quatre's turn to be a little surprised. Truth be told, he had been expecting Trowa's question to be a bit more world-shaking, though now that it was after the fact, he found a good portion of him was a little relieved: he wasn't sure how he would have reacted if Trowa had been after something a bit more intimate than his ability to tap out a beat. Slowly, he nodded, still not sure where Trowa was going with this. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I already had a pretty good idea that you did after seeing you play the piano that one day," Trowa said, stretching back languidly in his chair like a lazy cat, "but I wanted to be sure you were confident in your abilities too." There was something smug in Trowa's teasing.

Quatre reached across the table to give Trowa a playful shove. "Yeah, but why?" he asked again, the words garbled by a laugh this time.

Trowa grinned and reached for his glass of lemonade, taking his sweet time with a series of thirst-quenching gulps of the drink before answering. "Do you remember our coxswain, Otto? The one who got hurt?" he asked, cradling the tall lemonade glass against his chest. "Well, it seems like he's out of commission for the rest of the season, which really leaves us in a jam, as some of our team members really relied on Otto's leadership...." Here, he gave Quatre a meaningful look. "Do you catch my meaning, friend?"

Quatre got it, but that didn't mean he couldn't still be surprised by the suggestion! "But I don't know the first thing about boats," he said, clasping his hands tightly around his root beer float. "I've never even been in one before."

Rolling his shoulders indifferently, Trowa replied, "First time for everything, right?" He set down his lemonade and leaned across the gap between their two chairs, earnestly gripping the armrest of Quatre's as he went on, "Really, though, we're sort of in a jam here, and it would mean a lot to the team - it would mean a lot to me - if you'd consider at least trying. You don't have to keep with it if you really don't like it, but...." Where his words stopped, the pleading mote in his evergreen irises picked up. Quatre thought the expression was a rather cheap shot. "Please?" Trowa prodded.

Quatre had made up his mind before Trowa had even finished begging him, but he decided to jerk his chain a little and made a show of thinking about it. "Well, I guess so," he said at length, stroking his chin and staring up at the clouds. Then he dropped his gaze back to meet Trowa's and added earnestly, "But only because you asked me, you got that, mister?"

A sly, feline grin formed Trowa's lips as he sat back in his chair triumphantly. "I got you," he said, his pleasure apparent even in his tone. Having resolved that issue, he went back to sipping casually on his lemonade and reminiscing over their afternoon together. All in all, he thought it had been a good time; despite that brief void that had stretched between them at the mention of Quatre's mother, he thought they had bonded a bit more. This gladdened Trowa immensely: his life had been taking a rather monotonous, downward turn, and he was ready for a new day. He wondered if Quatre felt the same.

Meanwhile, Quatre was treading through rather heavy thoughts of his own. For the first time since he'd arrived on Earth, he found himself thinking about his family and the things he missed about L4. What if something happened to his mother while he was still on exchange? He knew there was very little sense worrying about it, since there wasn't much he could do from Earth in any case. He resolved to see Ms. Noin about sending them a message at least; maybe that would make him feel less on edge about this new situation.

Their food soon arrived, and though they made idle chitchat during the course of the meal, their dealings with one another had regressed back to the tentative. Quatre was still unable to tuck his unrest about his mother aside and it was clear even to Trowa that it was still nagging the blonde. Trowa, unsure of how to broach the topic artfully, decided to remain mostly quiet about the matter, despite how it was so forcefully bearing down upon the pair. Instead, he decided the best course for the time being would be to pretend like there wasn't an elephant sharing their table and as soon as it wandered away of its own accord, he'd have his old, favoured Quatre back.

It wasn't until the end of the meal, when Quatre was settling the bill, that any trace of his usual passion glimmered vibrantly again. He let out a loud expletive as he frantically started to pat himself down in search of something. "I can't find it," he explained hastily to Trowa, his hands dipping in and out of every pocket on his person. "I always keep it in my jacket so that it'll be with me when I go out, but it's not here!" He tore into the fabric of his coat, fervently ripping zippers open and unfastening snaps.

The excitement started to deteriorate into mild panic as Quatre's movements started to get more static. Trowa had an insuppressible urge to reach out and grab Quatre by his wrists, pinning them still in his long-fingered grasp. "Shh, shh, Quatre - calm down, okay?" he said in as soothing a voice as he could muster. "What's missing?"

Muscles tense, Quatre tried to pull his wrists free so he could get back to searching himself. "My wallet!" he explained, just short of hyperventilating. "This is bad - really bad! I had all my money and credit cards in there - my IDs and my insurance information and my inter-colony passport! All gone!" He finally managed to break free of Trowa's grasp and neurotically started pulling on his bangs.

Quatre was really throwing Trowa for a loop today. Quickly, he leaned forward and snatched Quatre's hands back, forcing them down to the seat of the chair Quatre was sitting in and holding them fast. "Quatre, Quatre! Don't lose it!" he said in a calm but assertive tone. "There are certain measures we can take to see about locating it again - no big deal! Duo said he thought he smelled a thief on campus a few weeks ago; I'm sure the school can help you take care of it. It'll be okay! Just don't freak out, okay?" He gave Quatre a quick shake, refusing to let go of him until he saw the blonde show some sign of understanding.

After nodding gently and then being allowed to sit free of Trowa's grasp for a few moments, Quatre slowly looked up, his features twisted by curiosity. "Duo said he smelled a thief?" he questioned, the meaning of what Trowa had just said finally sinking in.

"Yeah. Went straight to the administration when these medallions of his went missing a bit ago," Trowa said with a nod of his own. "Duo's been around the block a couple times; he knows dubious behaviour a mile off." Trowa flopped low in his chair, digging into his own pocket and producing a thin roll of credits with which to pay for the food. "Kinda hard to peg this guy, though, I'd say," Trowa went on as he counted out the proper amount of money. "Seems like a real magpie, swiping medals and wallets and things like that." He returned his extra money to his pocket and put the rest into the small, leather folder that bore the receipt.

"I wonder who it is," Quatre muse aloud. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a strange cliff, unsure if he should be glad for the distraction or not.

"I seriously have no idea." Trowa shrugged helplessly. He tilted his head back, blinking thoughtfully up at the pigeon cooing softly on a windowsill across the street. "Duo might, though. Or at least might have a clue as to where to start. Like I said, he's kind of got a nose for this sort of thing."

"I'm not sure I want to know," Quatre said with a trace of glib smugness, which was reassuring to Trowa and brought a smile to his face once more. Quatre leaned back in his chair in an effort to settle down again, though he still had his fingers wrapped tensely around the armrests. "Maybe we should ask Heero, too," Quatre said, trying to be more reasonable. "Wufei might be good to talk to as well."

"There, you see?" said Trowa. "You have lots of people here who can support you. We're here for you."

Quatre lifted his chin and, for the first time since in quite some time, met Trowa's eyes again, knowing the tall rower was indeed correct. Yes, he would always be tied to his life back on L4, but he remembered why he'd even ventured to come on exchange in the first place - how he'd wanted to branch out and start a separate life of his own. He knew his new Earth-bound friends were very much a part of that. Finally, his lips parted in a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with that familiar sparkle once more. "Thanks, Trowa," he said earnestly, feeling bad for his recent, erratic display.

Trowa was immediately touched by that contagious charm of Quatre's the second it reasserted itself over the blonde's demeanor. One corner of his mouth tweaked itself upwards; he had his sunshine back.

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The bottom of Heero's fist pounded furiously on the door of Duo's room, the flesh smacking with a stinging pink colour as his knocks grew steadily more fervent. He wasn't sure what had motivated him to actually come to seek Duo out personally, but after overhearing some of the things he'd been feeding to Quatre and Hilde at lunch that day, he'd somehow arrived at the conclusion that there was no other way to deal with the things currently plaguing his mind.

After a few moments of such resilient banging, it didn't take long for the door to open, though it wasn't the longhaired boxer who answered his call. Heero withdrew his hand sheepishly as Trowa stared him down curiously. "Sorry," the exchange student mumbled, feeling the passion drain from him. "I was just looking for your roommate."

"I see," mused Trowa, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed comfortably in a pair of plaid flannels and an oversized tee shirt that hung baggily off his long frame. "Heero, do you have any idea what time it is?"

Heero stared back at Trowa, really not sure why it made a difference. He hadn't really thought about it when the need to find Duo had overwhelmed him earlier, when Quatre had expressed to him a concern about a thief on campus. Struck with the fear that his things could be just as easily lifted as Quatre's wallet, he'd promptly locked everything he owned in his suitcase and stashed it under his bed before heading out on this little mission of his. Duo seemed to be the authority on the subject from what he'd heard with his own ears and from Quatre and the excuse rang true enough - at least, the first time, anyway. "You weren't sleeping," Heero rationalized with a careless shrug.

It was clear that Trowa wasn't quite sympathetic, but whether or not he was truly annoyed was schooled well behind an even stare. "I was thinking about it," he said flatly. "Anyway, Duo's not here. He had... something to take care of."

At this, Heero rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Not surprising," he snorted with a twinge of sarcasm. "You don't have to beat around the bush, Trowa; I know he's out trolling for some lonely boy even more pathetic than he is to lure to bed. He was explicit with me about all that."

Trowa spent a few moments registering what Heero had just said, surprised not so much by the fact that Duo had informed the exchange student about his preference, but more because Heero didn't seem to have any qualms with anything other than Duo's unhinged sexual appetite. He supposed he must have taken Heero to be more straight-laced than he actually was. "Well, even if he was here," Trowa mused, "what is it that's bothering you so much that you just had to come here at nearly two in the morning?"

Mouth open, ready to retort, Heero balked at the last moment, suddenly doubting his actions. Truth be told, Heero had panicked a little when he'd heard Quatre pontificating about catching this thief, and knowing himself as well as he did, Heero was certain he wouldn't have been able to sleep until he'd put his worries to rest. Hence why he was thrashing Trowa and Duo's door at such an unheard of hour. He decided that Trowa could deal with being on a need-to-know basis. "If he's not out chasing tail, then tell me where I can find him," Heero demanded curtly, hoping Trowa wouldn't notice the fidgety way he was drumming his fingers against his thigh.

Trowa cocked an interested brow, though it remained mostly hidden behind the long sweep of hair that fell over his one eye. "He's in the chapel if you have to know," he informed Heero. "He keeps vigil by the statue of the Madonna once a month."

Heero's lips fell apart as a silent gasp passed through them. That was certainly unexpected! His mind already working double time to try and reason why the school's resident deviant would have such a pious habit, he offered Trowa a tart goodbye in parting and started off down the hall with the chapel set as his new destination.

The hallways didn't look that much different at nighttime, save for the fact that they were painted with sinister, purple shadows instead of the tired orange of the sunlight. His bare feet passed across the stone floors with the soft swish-swish of his pajama pants whispering in the night air as his ankles passed each other with every step. For once, he was truly grateful he'd become so practiced at seeing well in the dark.

Dim light filtered out of the chapel's entrance when he opened the door, playing across his front side invitingly. The stone and woodwork of the sanctuary was bathed in the glow of the gas lamps hanging along the ambulatory. Heero passed under them in his search for Duo.

The statue he was looking for resided in a private niche near the front of the chapel. Hidden from the rest of the place behind an intricate grate, the private spot was meant for deep meditation and prayer. Here, he found Duo perched dutifully on the second pew, his eyes transfixed by the single candle flickering on the tall candelabra that stood on the low steps leading up to the statue. He was still dressed in his usual daytime attire, though his tie was hanging loosely around his neck and his sandals were lying in a pile with his crumbled jacket on the floor. Tentatively, Heero called out Duo's name, startling the longhaired boxer, even though he didn't mean to.

"You!" Duo snapped when he realized who was there. "What are you doing here?"

Though Duo always seemed automatically defensive around Heero, it seemed like there was something else that had triggered it this time, though Heero wasn't quite sure what it was. Heero didn't allow it to bother him too much and instead just casually leaned against the wall behind him. "I could ask you the same thing," he commented. "I didn't take you for a religious person, Duo."

Duo actually seemed kind of insulted by this remark. "Maybe it's not something I wanna wear around on my sleeve," he seethed, definitely not pleased by Heero's interruption. He crossed his arms and turned his head away from Heero, his eyes closed contemptuously. "And I'm not religious, for the record. It's not a crime to have a little faith, is it? Don't need to be religious to have faith in something." His words crumbled into a low grouse towards the end of the sentence.

Heero blinked incredulously at the impossible teenager sitting in front of him. "You're a very confusing person, you know that?" he said. "How can you have faith in something you don't believe in?"

"I didn't say that! Did I say that?" Duo exploded, whipping around to face Heero again, gripping the arm of the pew with both hands. "What did I tell you about staying the fuck out of my business? Clam the ignorant questions, Spaceboy; you're starting to piss me off."

Heero lifted his eyebrows indifferently. "I don't know that this is the proper place to say words like that," he said, feeling a bit smug. Moments later, he added, "And to my knowledge, I always piss you off, so nothing new there."

Duo bashed his hands against the pew in protest, his face the very picture of insult. "There you go, making assumptions again!" he accused scathingly. "Who told you that? Who gave you the idea I don't like you? Because let me tell you, Spaceboy -" he let out an ironic chuckle "-that's hardly the case." He let his eyes sweep appraisingly up and down Heero's body, very much approving of Heero's loose bedtime attire - the threadbare, green tank top in particular.

Heero narrowed his eyes, belittled by Duo's ambiguous statements. "You certainly have unorthodox methods of expressing that," he said a bit sarcastically.

"Whatever," Duo said with a tired roll of his eyes as he turned away to face the candle and statue again. He lifted his arms high over his head, stretching as he let out a gaping yawn. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes with a curled finger and then slapped his cheeks in an effort to keep awake.

Heero watched this display with a curious eye, noting the dark bags under Duo's tired eyes and the somewhat pallid hue his skin had taken on. "You look ill," he said, unable to quell the observation. "You should go to bed."

"Only if you come with me," Duo responded almost immediately, glancing at Heero with that expression of sly intent again. It was only for a moment, though, maybe even only because of habit; Duo's face drooped back into a more serious countenance as his attention returned to the candle, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. It sounded like a prayer. For the first time, Heero noticed that there was a chain of rosary beads clasped in Duo's hands.

Knowing Duo wasn't paying attention to him anymore, Heero tried to distract himself by looking around. He still wanted to talk to Duo about the thief, but he was having trouble finding a good time to bring it up; whatever kept Duo here was clearly important to the longhaired boxer, even if Heero had trouble understanding just what that was. He was overwhelmed with the need to also ask Duo what he was doing there, but that didn't seem appropriate either. He let his attention be drawn by the dancing flame atop the candle as well; it cast a golden film across the statue's empty stone eyes and her carved face. Personally, Heero wasn't a religious person himself, and only had a passing, general understanding of various beliefs, but as he listened to Duo, he soon realized that Duo wasn't so much here for himself as for another. Before he had a chance to stop himself, the curiosity welling inside won over, and he blurted out, "Duo, who died?"

The soft clatter of the rosary spilling across the hard floor filled the tiny niche like it was the only sound in the universe. There was a strange expression Heero had never seen on Duo's face before, like he'd touched by the very ghost that had been haunting him all this time. Duo wilted back against the pew, his eyes still transfixed by the candle in an almost hypnotic manner.

"Duo?" Heero called out carefully as he pushed off the wall, suddenly very frightened by this abrupt display from the other teenager. He lifted a hand like he meant to reach out to Duo, but recoiled it almost immediately, afraid to touch Duo for fear of making things worse, which he felt he had an uncanny talent for.

Heero became aware that Duo's lips were moving again, mumbling something softly as his hand flipped erratically in the direction of the statue. "It's for her - for her," he whispered incoherently, barely loud enough for Heero to hear.

Heero furrowed his brow thoughtfully, wondering what this meant. "The Madonna?" he guessed, his dark eyes flicking back over towards the statue.

"No, no, the other mother - my mother, my sister," Duo shook his head, still sounding a bit delirious. Clearly, Heero had brushed a nerve, had hit Duo in a place the longhaired teen hadn't expected to be, and it wasn't something he was quite prepared to deal with or knew how to handle.

Heero's hand flicked out towards Duo of its own accord again, this time grazing Duo's shoulder. "Duo, you're not making any sense at all," he said, inwardly thinking about how this wasn't much different from any other time.

"Yes, I am! I make perfect sense!" Duo suddenly shouted, startling Heero back against the wall once more. "You try losing one of the only people who ever gave a shit about you and accepted you for whatever, and then you come back and talk to me about it, okay?" It was hard to say whether Duo was being defensive or angry, but the poignancy of what he said struck Heero either way. He felt like he was fast approaching a hidden facet of Duo's character that would explain a lot to him.

At the same time, though, Heero felt that familiar, feisty spark Duo always kindled within him when they were together. "At least you have people like that," Heero said, sounding very unsympathetic. "No one I know cares about me so long as I do what I'm supposed to."

Unprepared for such a response, shock registered on Duo's face, but it was gone in such a fast instant, it almost didn't happen at all. "Bullshit. You've got plenty of people who give a damn about you," he scoffed disbelievingly. "Quatre thinks you're just so darn cool, which means that Trowa thinks you're cool too. And for once, Wufei admits there's someone out there who's better than him. And what the fuck is up with Relena panting after you like she is? There's got to be a little somethin'-somethin' there for her to take a minute out of her day to care." He was rambling, regardless of whether or not his words actually had foundation or not.

Heero remained unconvinced. "Yeah? And what about you?"

"What about me?" Duo countered derisively. "I don't think you're all that. I just want to paw your pretty ass, Spaceboy." The talk was familiar, but his tone still quivered nervously.

"That's not really what I meant," Heero interrupted, latching onto the opening. "I was talking about the way you conduct yourself - the way you're always out trolling for someone to drag to bed." Heero straightened and folded his arms, hoping to make himself seem larger, despite his short stature. "Does that make you feel wanted, Duo Maxwell? Does that make you feel loved - even if it's just for a couple hours? Or do you just want everybody to feel sorry for poor, lonely you?" Heero shook his head, his nose crinkled with disgust. "Well, I don't think it's very becoming at all. Your tricks and charms won't work on me, I can promise you right now."

Heero's words pounded down upon Duo like a heavy mace. His soul wanted to cry out in protest, but in his heart, he knew that Heero could see his every flaw reflected in his irises. Retorts lined up one after another on the tip of his tongue, ready to let fly before he tossed them back down his throat in a fit of uncertainty. Instead, he could only stare back at Heero, still baring himself shamelessly in the glassy surface of his eyes as he reached down to the floor and blindly groped for his rosary beads. He clutched it tightly in his hand like it chained him to heaven, the tiny pearls digging roughly into his palm. He felt like he was plummeting fast from the sky anyway, the world turned over his head as he fell from grace.

Heero decided there was no sense in trying to rub salt into Duo's wounds and instead gracefully diverted the subject to the one he'd originally come down here to ask about. "What were you telling Quatre today?" he asked directly, not one to delay his intention with a lot of unnecessary words.

Duo huffed loudly through his teeth, still sprawled dejectedly across the pew. "What, about the no-good fucking thief on the loose?" he asked halfheartedly. "Nothing exciting - just that he should lock his shit up and keep it zipped about where he stashes the key. He wanted to pass of the spare for his trunk to me or you or someone, but I told him he needed to stop being so fucking trusting in the inherent 'good' in everybody else or else he was gonna get robbed blind." Every word was crisp and lackluster, each sounding just as unenthused as Duo felt about his life right then. He was too preoccupied with a rather heavy weight of frustration and malcontent, which seemed to press down on him like he bore the weight of the world and all its discrepancies on his back.

Heero let out a grunt of annoyance, not pleased that the answers he was getting weren't the ones he was seeking. "So you have no idea who it is that's been -"

Duo cut him off with another outburst of passion, clearly losing patience for a conversation that was decidedly making him question too much about himself than he felt comfortable with. "No, I fucking don't," he snapped viciously, actually managing to startle Heero a little bit. "If I did, you'd fucking know too, 'cause you'd have heard about me creaming the fucker for stealing from me!" Duo mechanically rearranged his position, now glaring vehemently at his candle by the statue. "Now go away - just leave me alone," he ordered, the severity more than apparent in his voice. "I already have one ghost haunting me tonight; I don't need two." His head swiveled in Heero's direction once more, his eyes widening slightly as if he was trying to instill some kind of significant meaning on the other teen with the raw expression in his eyes.

Heero felt plastered against the wall by this sudden aversion Duo was displaying towards him, which he quickly decided he didn't care for. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he'd taken for granted the lavish attention Duo showered upon him. He was revisited with that nostalgic sentiment of being a throwaway, something he thought he wouldn't have to experience since he'd decided to get away from all that. Like a shadow melted upon the woodwork, he took a silent leave of Duo, mentally bidding him a sincere goodnight.

Heero wandered back through the dark hallways with crushed spirits. For the first time since he'd come to Earth, he felt more like he'd been abandoned and forgotten there instead of out to forge his own way. His tried and true defense mechanisms were starting to click into effect, and he felt struck with the immediate need to crawl into himself, or to read until he couldn't see the words in front of his face anymore, or maybe just to sleep until he stopped dreaming about things he couldn't have. Then he could sleep forever.

When he returned to the dorm room at last, everyone had gone to sleep, and the room was hung with inky curtains of shadow. With practiced stealth, he crept to his bed and retrieved Dubliners from the small table next to it, ferrying it to the ribbed patch of frosty moonlight beneath the window. Like a child with an illicit thing in hand, he huddled beneath the sill with his knees tucked up against his chest and his arms wrapped around his thighs and shins as he held the book out, his eyes absorbing the words but not being struck with their meaning until he drew nearer to the finish.

'His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.'

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