Trowa entered his house stonily. Catherine was asleep. The block was asleep, but he didn't have an ounce of weariness in his body... The canvas was still there, with the sheet thrown haphazardly over it, unmoved. Catherine would never invade on his privacy like that... And Trowa would never show it to her. It would hurt her, because he drew like their mother. He knew that.... And hated himself for it...

It's not my talent-- it's hers, and she should have kept it....

He finished Quatre at three o'clock in the morning, and looked at it until dawn crept through the window, burning his eyes through the shades. It was time for school.... With the enthusiasm of a rock, Trowa showered, and met Catherine in the kitchen.

"So-- who was the cute little blonde?" Catherine whispered, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. Trowa glanced at her absently.

"Quatre Winner." She was silent.

"Winner?"

"............" Trowa finished breakfast, and went back upstairs to get ready. He wanted to meet Duo this time.

"--Yeah yeah--" Duo's shout was muffled but very clearly annoyed as he stormed to the front door. Trowa shifted nervously. How do you know he'll want it-- The heavy wooden door flew open with a groan and flurry of brown hair. The ripped screen door opened as well, admitting a tiredly smiling Duo.

"Hey, 'morning Trowa. Ready to go?"

He won't want it. It's not right-- It probably doesn't even look like her--

"I....." His voice failed. His resolve was already gone, but Trowa shoved the covered canvas at him, begging silently for it to be taken. "If you don't want it just-- burn it--"

Duo looked confused but took the proffered gift. Trowa stepped backwards off the steps as Duo struggled to peel off the sheet. His movements were agonizingly slow.

Why did I give it to him he'll think I'm insane, weird, psychotic--

".... how'd you know?" Duo mused, a soft, pained smile rising on his flattened lips. He looked up quickly from the image, and saw Trowa's lowered face half way across the lawn. He was still retreating.

"We'll be late if we don't leave now."

Duo tapped his pencil on the table rapidly. The incessant clickety sound drove Trowa into a numbed, dream like state. He was so.... tired.....

"Stop it," Heero ordered gruffly. He sounded homicidal. The tapping slowed, but didn't stop. Trowa sighed and lowered his head onto his folded arms. Tired... Sleep...

"And how are our portraits doing, boys?" Zechs' cheerful voice drove into Trowa's head like a dagger, stabbing him awake. He bolted up and had to force down a yawn. His hands sought the discarded paper and mechanical pencil and started scribbling aimlessly, just to look busy.

"Nice try, Mr. Barton. You can nap, if you can show me evidence of some sort of beginning portrait."

Trowa nodded, and riffled through his papers. He'd recreated yesterday's generic portrait during Physics. The headache from doing it was just now beginning to fade. He handed it to Zechs, who nodded at it.

".... see me after class, Mr. Barton." He handed back the paper, and moved to the next art table. Duo's jaw was nearing the floor.

"What the *hell* was that?! That's totally a decent drawing man-- well; for you I think it sucks--" Trowa glared and Duo raised his hands defensively-- "Hey, you know what I'm talking about. But there's no reason for him to hold you after class!!"

"It's alright," Trowa lied. He had a sinking, terrible feeling. The weak portrait of Quatre looked innocently up at him. It doesn't look the same; I tried not to do anything to it....

"I doubt it's because of the quality." Wufei noted absently. He'd actually come over *willfully* when Zechs had announced a "Free Work Day." Basically he'd visited, to get away from Relena who'd attached herself to him. He still had cotton balls stuck in his ears, and refused to take them out for fear Relena would call on him.

"Huh?" Duo offered. Trowa smirked at the visible question mark above his head-- the guy was so amusing.

"It's below his ability, baka," Wufei sighed. He dug out one of the cotton balls and tensed, waiting to hear the Wail of the Banshee. His coal colored eyes lighted upon Trowa, who'd sunk low into his chair, leaving only a few tufts of his burnt amber hair visible.

"Oh. Duhh--" Duo crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Wrong thing to do. Wufei dove across the table, hands very intent upon wrapping around the braided numb skull's neck--

"WUFEIIIIIIII!"

Wufei collapsed. Literally, on top of the table, limp. Trowa rose a little bit, and checked the boy's pulse. Weak, but there. He'd fainted! Duo's eyes were round at such a sight.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day," Duo stated. Trowa nodded in agreement. He pitied the poor boy.

"Uhg-- sleeping?! I swear he is so lazy," Relena sniffed. She glared at Duo who waved cheerfully at her, and Trowa suddenly found her eyes on him. She frowned a little, her pale brows furrowing together to form a rather comical V shape. Trowa imagined her, in oil paints, with each stroke accented by the brush, striated and swift. She could be beautiful, he thought. Her eyes passed and landed on Heero. They were sparkling dangerously now. Trowa could feel Heero tense beside him.

"H-"

"Go away, Relena," Heero ordered darkly. He folded his arms before him and looked away, over at Picasso poster. Guernica.

"But-"

The bell rang. The blessed bell rang and the art room had never been vacated so fast. Poor Wufei was left, drooling onto the table. Trowa approached Zechs, who nodded to him, and passed by with a giant ruler in his hand.... A short time later, Wufei walked into his next class with a long, rectangular, ruby red slap mark on the side of his head. No questions were asked.

"Your portrait seems to be coming along nicely," Zechs declared mildly from across the room. A few students were straggling in for the next class, so he moved closer to Trowa. The boy's head was bent low. He was leaning heavily against one of the art tables, as if it were the only thing holding him up in the entire world--

"I only expect the best from my students, Mr. Barton," Zechs spoke softly. "The best that each student can offer, whether it's a stick figure or--" he paused to shudder. "Crayons." The word was thick, and almost foreign on the teacher's lips. "That is not your best. It's a mockery of my worksheet-- if anything... I will not give you a passing grade for that. You understand, and I know it--"

"That's the best I can give you, Mr. Marquise," Trowa interrupted. He straightened and tightened his grip on his back pack straps. He never looked farther than the ugly gray tile floor. "Nothing I can do will be right--"

"What do you mean, right?" Zechs demanded. "Art can never be "right" and it's never "wrong" if that's what you're saying." He paused. Trowa flinched at his next words. "Who told you that?"

"What?" Trowa asked in a mere whisper. Play it dumb-- they always fall for that--

"Look at me for God's sake," Zechs sighed in exasperation. He snapped his fingers, and Trowa lifted his head angrily. Stop pushing me!

"Everyone, Mr. Marquise," Trowa snapped. "And art *can* be wrong because everything I've ever done is *wrong*-- it's different, and ugly-- too real--" He stopped. He was getting angry, lashing out with words when he was better with silence. I haven't done that in-- almost two years-- "I have to go."

He left Mr. Marquise in a wake of silence. It was hard to even hear his footfalls, or breathing, which was ragged.

I'm going to fail again-- He laughed bitterly, surprising a few students rushing by.

"Quit sulking, Trowa."

Trowa sulked more, just because Catherine told him not to. He did have a rebellious side. It usually came out when Cathy tried to mother him.

"Tro-wa," she persisted. Her pale arms swung over the back of the sofa, and wrapped his neck in a hug. Normally, it would have been comforting. Now.... He felt constrained. Choked. Confused. He pulled away, knowing it hurt her. He sped up the stairs, and sulked alone. He was alone a lot, lately. Sitting in his dark room-- he hadn't set up the lamp yet--, thinking about home work, Duo, and their brooding "friend" Heero. Distant Wufei. And Quatre-- no!

I will not think of Quatre. I'm in too dark of a mood....

He thought of poor Catherine and all the new strains of a new planet, new job and himself to take care of....

He decided to paint. Yes, using the cheap water based paints he'd found in the back shelves of a convenience store. But he had good brushes, and a simple little canvas......

He painted the world. He formed the globe in slashes of paint; harsh and thick. Mostly black, with ripping veins of red, and white. It was abstract-- completely unlike him.... And he used so much paint... This will never dry, he mused, wiping a glob of crimson off of the easel shelf. He slung it aside, not caring whether or not it landed on the floor or on his bed spread (it landed on his bed spread -- Catherine's going to kill me). His face was dry, and caked with paint. Streaks of it, like water based tears. Some was even in his hair.....

"Trowa?"

That voice sounds familiar. Catherine again. She knows when I need to be left alone.

"It's so dark," a voice whispered. It was dull in Trowa's mind. They were distant.

It's Duo, with Quatre. There are some other footsteps, too....

"We shouldn't be in here," a gruff voice stated. "He's busy--"

"Look at that," another voice breathed. It was full of awe. Trowa's hand jerked back from the canvas and he whirled. The light from the hall blinded him for a second.

Four figures huddled in the door frame. Duo was halfway into the room, his hand outstretched to touch him....

Trowa hurled the paint brush down, and ripped the canvas away. He stalked to the darkest area of his room and tossed the canvas with the other rejects. His visitors were very aware of his blackened mood, and most accepted his shoving hands.

"You should have knocked," he growled.

"I told them to go in, Trowa."

Catherine was blocking him from throwing Duo back down the stairs. Trowa blinked rapidly and looked at Duo's shocked face. Yes, Trowa had his arm in a death grip, and was very prepared to hurl the nervous boy down the steep flight of stairs. Trowa released him immediately.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His hand moved unconsciously and scraped away some of the paint. His hands were coated in it. I used a lot of red--

"We're sorry we intruded, Trowa," Quatre began soothingly. He moved Duo back, and took his place beside Trowa. A moment later his small, pale hands touched the neck of Trowa's shirt, and came away smeared with black paint. "But it looks like we saved you-- from death by paint..." No one laughed at Quatre's simple joke, but tension faded, just at the calm boy's words. Duo let out a heavy sigh, and patted the wall loudly to get everyone's attention.

"Can we get a light into your room?"

Trowa gave him a hard look. The boy who'd stolen his portrait of Quatre-- no, *two* portraits of Quatre.... Should I let him in my room? The idea was debatable. Highly unlikely....

"It looks like you could use some help--" Wufei paused, his nose wrinkling at Trowa's disheveled state. "Cleaning up."

"You got it on the floor again, didn't you?" Catherine shrilled. She whacked Trowa's arm and shook an angry finger at him. She was crammed disconcertingly close in the hall. This meant that she was easily within face-smacking distance. "I'm getting you rags and a bucket of soapy water and if by tomorrow I see one speck of paint anywhere on the floor I'm going to upend every single container of paint you have into your hair and smoosh it around like this--" she finished her threat and grabbed Trowa by the head, tangling his soft spiky hair in her fingers. She released him with a cruel shove and stomped off, cursing paint and Trowa to high heaven. Trowa staggered with a blush staining through the paint, and he heard several chuckles. He glared at Duo, who was the one with the loudest laugh. Duo threw his hands up defensively.

"Hey, I wasn't the one who *started* laughing--" he grabbed Heero's tank top shoulder and pulled him forward. Despite the stormy look on Heero's face he didn't retaliate and drop Duo to the ground again. "Heero was!" Heero's expression was priceless at Duo's blame. Even Trowa had to smile.

"Omae o korosu baka--!!"