the sound of silence

[windandwater]

The room was dimly lit, but that wasn't surprising. In retrospect, Barton had expected the room to be completely devoid of light, just a sucking black pool that you could drown yourself in. But instead, the room was lit by the glow of a few scattered candles, and from what he could tell the room was simplistically yet tastefully decorated.

Of course.

Moving slowly so as not to trip over anything or injure himself, Barton moved farther into the room. When his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he could just barely make out the figure of his counterpart sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, his long legs stretched out before him. Near him was a half empty bottle of... something. The label had been peeled off and was in tattered little pieces on the floor. Trowa didn't even acknowledge his presence, but continued to stare unblinkingly at the shadows the candlelight threw against the walls.

"Wallowing in your own sorrow?" Barton asked, his soft voice managing to sound like nails on chalkboard in the silent room. An eternity seemed to stretch following his words, but finally Trowa sighed.

"No."

"That's not what it looks like to me. At least you're not playing with knives."

Trowa just pointed one finger up. Barton followed with his eyes and saw that the ceiling above Trowa's head was riddled with knives stuck in the plaster. The sight was intensely amusing to him for some reason.

Gracefully, Barton sat down next to the other boy, making sure to keep a healthy distance between their bodies. Trowa didn't answer and Barton resisted the urge to smack himself. God, two of them in the same room... whatever had given him the insane urge to try and talk to his counterpart? "What *are* you doing, then, if not wallowing in your own self pity?"

Trowa glanced out of the corner of his eye at Barton. One slim hand reached out, wrapped itself around the neck of the bottle and Trowa took a long pull before answering. "I'm not wallowing. I'm... brooding."

Barton made a soft sound, pulled the bottle from Trowa's hand (enduring a glare for his trouble) and drank as well. He winced as the alcohol burned down his throat.

"'Brooding' looks like getting drunk off your ass."

"It has it's advantages."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, or how you're feeling..."

"Of course you don't."

"... but I'm here, okay? Talking to me is damn close to talking to yourself and god knows we did enough of that during the war."

Trowa actually chuckled a little, his voice sounding rusty in the darkness. "Actually, *I* was talking to HeavyArms."

"Bullshit."

"Hn." Trowa drank from the bottle again.

"So do you want to talk?"

Trowa arched a brow at his counterpart, finally looking directly in his face. "You're different from me."

Barton shrugged, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "I'm a different you."

"How different?"

"I don't know."

"Well, that's what I'm... brooding... about. About how we can be the same person, yet two different people. Duo and Max are very much alike, but then their differences, well... we're both acquainted with them. Heero and Yuy... I don't even want to *think* what happened to make them so different."

"Yuy said that Heero calls him 'Bottom Boy'. It's amazing that he actually *likes* that nickname. I'd be humiliated." Barton snorted with laughter and then took a drink. "But what's the problem then? We're from different Muse mansions, we even have different experiences. Isn't it obvious that we'd be different?"

Trowa shook his head. "But we're *counterparts.* He... the other... my Koppi... is just that. A koppi of me. We have the same pasts, the same memories, the same experiences, all up until the point he was koppied from me." Trowa frowned bitterly. "Practically perfect in every way."

Barton shook off the strange Mary Poppins reference and studied his counterpart's face carefully. Trowa looked absolutely miserable. While his face was almost impassive, the alcohol had taken its toll and Trowa's emerald eyes were shining with disgust, pity, confusion, anger, fear, even loathing.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" he asked softly. "That he's you?"

"He *IS* me, dammit!" Trowa exploded, storming up to his feet. Barton looked on in shock as Trowa began to pace, the bottle in his hand swinging wildly.

"The bastard is *ME*! He's as me as they come, and he's such a... he's a..." Trowa took a long pull and then threw the bottle across the room violently. It smashed across the far wall, glass shards exploding everywhere and alcohol spreading down the wall. "Can't you see? If he's so much of *me* then that means that *I* am capable of... that I could possibly be... I don't want to! I don't want to be like that! I CAN'T!"

Trowa collapsed then, falling to his knees in the middle of the room and covering his face in his hands. Immediately, Barton went against his better judgement and crawled to him, pulling the other boy into his arms. Trowa was gasping for breath, nearly hyperventilating, but his eyes were dry.

"... I don't want to... when I was growing up... the mercenaries... they... I swore that I wouldn't, that I would *never*... but here he is and he's me and he's doing all these things..."

Barton was furious.

But not at Trowa, this shivering, shuddering wreck in his arms, he was furious at the Koppi!Trowa... the one who had reduced his Original into a depressive mess. Barton shook his counterpart roughly, trying to snap him out of the turbulent path his thoughts were taking him.

"Hey! Hey! Listen to me! He is *NOT* you!" Emerald eyes looked blankly at him. "Don't give me that look. He's not. Maybe he was you once before, but since he was koppied, he's become an entirely different person. He lives in a different Muse Mansion. He has different friends. He has different experiences. Hell, *my* mansion manages to turn everyone into flaming nancy boys! The point is that *his* situation has been changed. Everyone *knows* that you would never even *think* about doing those sorts of things. You don't have to worry about what your koppi does, because *YOU* wouldn't. It doesn't reflect on you at all."

"But..." Trowa whispered. "... we have the same pasts. That means there's a possibility that I could..."

Barton frowned and decided to switch strategies. "Listen, would you ever hurt Wufei like that?"

"No," Trowa replied, sitting up fully.

"What about Heero?" Barton asked doggedly.

"No!" Trowa exclaimed, fighting Barton's grip.

Barton held on tenaciously, struggling to make sure his counterpart was looking at him. "What about Duo?"

Trowa's expression cracked and he was openly fighting now, trying to pull away. "Oh, God! NO!"

Barton brought out the big guns. "What about Quatre?"

"NO! NEVER! I would never do such a thing!" Trowa exploded again, punching his counterpart across the jaw and pushing himself away. He gained his feet for only a moment before gravity and inebriation worked against him and pulled him to the floor.

Barton rubbed his jaw and gave a small smirk at his counterpart, sprawled across from him.

"Well, there you go. You, Trowa Barton, could never be a self-interested bastard. Congratulations."