all quiet on the western front

Duo wasn't generally a morning person. It was a well known fact that he liked to sleep in as much as possible -- a side effect of having to pull late night missions -- and it was also agreed that Duo was a very disagreeable and downright nasty person until he had his half a pot of coffee in the morning. This made it all the stranger because Duo woke up this certain morning in a wonderfully happy and pleasant mood.

( Cut because this musefic gets a bit... uh... graphic? Make that *very* graphic )

a full house

Breakfast -- or rather, an early lunch if you wanted to view it that way -- was well under way by the time Duo and Max wandered out of the bedroom and into the Common Room. Both Americans were freshly showered and were dressed in nearly identical black jeans and black shirts. The only saving grace was that Duo wore a tank top and Max was wearing a regular t-shirt. Also, Duo wore his hair pulled up into a ponytail which was long enough to brush against his thighs as he walked. Max had his arm around Duo's shoulder casually and their entrance was duly noted by the other Muses in the room.

Wufei looked up over the top of his newspaper and snorted. "Looks like *someone* finally decided to get up," he remarked off-handedly.

Duo just bounced over to him and gave him a quick kiss. "I've been *up* since early this morning, Wufei..."

"... we just finally decided to leave the bedroom," Max finished, giving Yuy a quick kiss as the blushing Japanese boy handed him a mug of coffee.

"You know, that whole finishing each other's sentences thing is sort of disturbing," Winner pointed out, buttering a slice of toast as he spoke.

Both Duo and Max blinked at the blond Arabian, blinked at each other, and then blinked at Winner again. Max shrugged and sipped his coffee. Duo made his way to the table.

"I didn't even realize we did that," Duo answered. "I don't know. Sometimes you mesh and sometimes you don't."

At that moment he reached out his hand just Max finished taking a drink of his coffee. The braided boy handed the mug over and continued as Duo drank and poked around the breakfast items on the table.

"Maybe it depends on other stuff. I'm not a scientist, but me an' Duo are pretty tight, so it's obvious that we would think the same way." Then Max reached out, took the blueberry muffin that Duo handed to him and took a bite. Then the two counterparts switched items, Duo finishing off the muffin and Max draining the last of the coffee.

"S'not like we do it on purpose or anything," Duo said as his chewed.

"Okay... if Winner thought the sentence thing was disturbing, I'm now officially freaked out," Chang burst out. Then with a grumble, he took his tea and toast, stole a section of the newspaper from Wufei and plopped himself on the couch. The other Muses were all nodding and murmurring amongst themselves.

Duo and Max looked at each other.

"What?" they asked simultaneously.

Before anyone could explain, the door chimed. Quatre frowned, but since he was closest to the door, he rose to answer it. "Who could be calling at such an hour?"

When the door slid open, the answer was on the doorstep. Or rather, in the room, as she did not wait to be invited before stepping into the Common Room.

"Hello, Quatre. Have you seen Heero?" Relena asked. At the laptop, Heero twitched violently but kept working. At the table, Yuy went completely pale and tried to scrunch down further in his chair.

"The blonde bitch!" Max exclaimed, nearly dropping his mug. "Why didn't anyone tell me that *she* was here?"

Relena threw the braided boy a Look. "There's no need to be rude, Duo. I assure you that..." Relena trailed off to a stop as she realized that the room was filled with G-Boyz twice over. "What in the world...?"

Then Relena's cornflower blue eyes widened as she realized that Heero was sitting in front of his laptop in his tank top and spandex, but there was ANOTHER Heero at the table, dressed in nothing but a brief pair of cutoffs. Her mouth dropped open in a very unladylike way. And her mind kicked its gears into overdrive and started to whirl.

Duo caught the change in Relena's expression. "Oh, no way!" he bit out, storming up to the blond girl. "I know what that look in your eyes means, Relena! I *know* what you're thinking! No way! Absolutely not! Only *I'M* allowed to have those kinds of thoughts!"

There were quite a number of discrete coughs at that statement and Duo amended quickly.

"Only *we're* allowed to have those kinds of thoughts. Whatever's going through that little head of your, forget it. Entertain yourself with Dorothy instead!"

At those words, Quatre, Winner and Yuy all started to make strange choking sounds.

Relena drew herself up to her full height, glaring at the violet eyed boy. "I'll have you know that I have a fic that needs to finished, Mr. Maxwell...!"

"Who doesn't?!" Duo spat back.

Relena continued doggedly. "Well, the *Writer* wants my fic finished! I'll do as I please!"

"You do as you please, and *I* will too!"

"What kind of threat is that?" Relena asked archly.

"The best kinda threat. I'm in your fic, too, ojou-san. And I'm the Primary Muse. I can twist your bunny nine ways to Hell if I want to. How about instead of Heero talking in his sleep, you find out he doesn't love you because you walk in on him and me going at it like--"

"You wouldn't dare!" Relena hissed, losing all color in her cheeks.

"Try me," Duo replied, his voice low and savage.

Relena had no answer to that, so with an impotent squeal of rage, she whirled around and stormed outta the room. Once the door slammed shut, Duo sagged against the back of the couch and wiped his forehead.

The room burst into applause.

Duo looked up, winked and grinned. "It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it."

the sound of silence

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."