Author's notes: Well, I've been through a pretty rough week, so it seems like a good time to update this. The one review I got seemed to ask for more, and Kat might appreciate me writing down what the hell I was thinking. You probably don't understand now, but you definitely will by the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing, or any other anime at current. But I'm working on it…. *goes back to trying to figure out how to hack through a bunch of barriers*

Warnings: Most likely a lot of OOC, but that happens when you try to twist characters to match up with a different story. Also, a halfhearted suicide attempt. Another thing that will become clear by the end of the chapter.

Dedication: Still to Kat. I don't think I'll ever be able to say how sorry I am for what I did. I never wanted to hurt you, but I think you knew that already…

A rash decision

It's Monday. I hate Mondays. Especially the ones that force me to face all of the problems I pushed off to the side so I could enjoy my time with Quatre. It seems as if every Monday I wake up early, just so the weight of all the built up problems can fully sink in, laughing in my face…

'It's your own fault.' Angrily, I shove the pillow over my face, trying to shut out the unwanted thoughts. 'if you had just taken a few hours to—'

I don't take away from my time with Quatre. Ever.

'What about the 5 hours you spent waiting for Quatre to get back from his meeting? You could have at least started that paperwork—'

Shut up. I flipped over again, trying to ignore the thoughts that I knew were true.

'Une's going to give you hell today when she finds out that you've slacked off on yet another case.'

"Shut up!" I said it as loudly as I could, but it didn't come out to be more than a whisper. However, it seemed to work. My mind switched tracks.

'You know, you could get out of it…'

how the hell am I supposed to do that? I could feel that demon of a thought again, tugging at the edges of my mind…

'Suicide.'

"Not an option." Again, my thoughts slipped out of my mouth on their own accord. I was becoming used to it. It didn't bother me as long as I knew no one could hear.

Deciding that I wasn't getting any more sleep, I rolled out of bed with the grace of a half melted ice cream scoop, and landed on the floor with a slight thud. The force of my oh-so-elegant landing knocked a small object off of my shelf. I was greeted by a small paper crane that was kind enough to land on my face. (Can you tell that my sarcasm is prevalent in the mornings?)

I quietly placed the crane back on the shelf, hoping that my racket hadn't woken Catherine up. She had never quite reached the qualifications for a 'morning person'. (More of that damned sarcasm…)

Sitting down at my desk, I pulled out a square piece of scrap paper and began to fold it. I had started making cranes when I first heard about an old Japanese legend stating that if a person makes 1,000 paper cranes, they would be granted a wish from the gods. Although I've never understood the concept of 'God', I decided that I had a wish worth the effort. The whole time, my goal had been to get my sadness to go away, and make Quatre happy. My problem was, I had thought of a number of round-about solutions, none of which made much sense. Every plan I made seemed to work perfectly in my mind as I was forming it, but then someone would point out the major fact that I had overlooked, and I would feel stupid for ever coming up with such an outrageous idea.

I looked down at my hands and realized that I had just finished my second crane. I don't remember reaching for the other piece of paper…

"Two hundred and eighty one…" I'm out now. I need more squares. The easiest paper to fold is notebook paper, although it doesn't look nice. But I wasn't making cranes for show anyway, just as a temporary escape.

After digging through my pile of urgent papers (which had been pushed off to the side in a very unimportant looking pile), I finally found my scissors. With the only light on in the room being my small desk lamp, I could see a small fairy dancing on the wall, made from the reflection of the light from the silver metal.

I gently pressed the cool metal against my skin, wondering if it would stink if I dragged it across. I opened the scissors and pressed one of the exposed cutters against my upper arm. It already stung, and I hadn't even started moving it.

Surprised and unnerved by the bite of the blade, I placed the scissors back in their compartment and retreated to my bed, lying on top of the unmade covers.

'I'm a coward…'

Yes, you are. I laughed quietly.

'You weren't supposed to agree with me.'

Do I ever listen to you?

'Sometimes…' I closed my eyes and rolled over, grateful that the mental battle hadn't been too vicious.

'You know, Catherine's driving today…'

So?

'Why don't you try the Advil today?' I was slightly confused by the reasoning of that thought, so I tried to push it aside. It wouldn't leave. '7 should be enough.'

That's crazy.

'So are you'

Go away. I groaned, then flipped over on the bed. The evil demon was already on a role though, and refused to let me be.

'It works out just fine. You can take them while Catherine gets dressed. If she catches you, you can just say that you have a headache.'

It could kill me!

'That's why you only take 7. Besides, you'll be around people all day. If something goes wrong, there will be people to get you help.' I flipped over again to stare at the ceiling. It was true, I would be around people all day, and 7 probably weren't enough to do much damage.

Why should I do it? I was beginning to lean towards the demon's wants. I was losing

'You've been planning for weeks, and nothing ever gets followed through. This is the perfect opportunity.' Any argument I would have made was cut off. Catherine stepped into my room, then laughed at me.

"If you want to sleep in, you have to tell me first so I can get in on it. Now get up. We're going to be late." After she left, closing the door to give me some privacy, I rolled out of bed for the second time that morning, letting myself go on auto-pilot. Mornings were always a blur to me, because I did the same thing every day without having to think…

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

"I'm going upstairs to get changed. We'll leave when I get down." I nodded slightly to acknowledge that I had heard Catherine before she would leave. Then I stood up, and walked over to the medicine cabinet, pulling out my allergy medicine. After swallowing the tiny white pill, I remembered my plan from earlier.

'Now's your chance.' I reached up to grab the bottle, hesitating to open the cap.

But…

'My god. You're such a wimp. How about this, if you don't take the seven, you can take the two for your headache.' I nodded to myself, and opened the cap, shaking a few into my hand. Only three came out, and I had to force myself to get more.

I separated the pills into three piles. One contained the 2 for my normal dose. One had the 5 extra that I had planned on. The third contained 6 extra that had come out of the bottle.

Only seven…. It won't do much damage…

'You have a point. Seven won't do much damage. Maybe you should take the extra six. You'll be around people. Thirteen is sure to be—'

No! The thought was so harsh, I put the 6 pills back immediately, scared by my own harshness…

'Well? What are you waiting for?' I popped two into my mouth, and swallowed them. The other five sat in my hand as if they were made of glass. I was afraid to do anything more than let them stay there.

It's only 7, it's only 7… My thoughts were less than reassuring, and I was loosing my nerve very quickly.

'Just take the damn pills.' I brought my hand down to my waist, dropping the pills into my pocket.

There. I'll do it later.

'You know the rules at the office. No drugs of any kind, or you're kicked out.' I sighed, and put my head down, fingering the small round objects through the fabric of my jeans.

What the hell. In one quick motion, I brought the drug up to my mouth, and took them dry. Deciding that the feeling of 5 pills slowly traveling down my esophagus was uncomfortable, I took a quick gulp from my glass of ice water, and put the pills back in the shelf, just in time for Catherine to come down the steps.

"You ready Trowa?" I nodded and picked up my green bag, slinging it over my shoulder much like I had last time I saw Quatre…

'Quatre… Oh god, Quatre! What have I done!' I screamed at myself, telling myself how stupid I was, and how I must have lost my mind to even have thought about going through with this. I watched Catherine's back as I followed her out the door, and I told myself to tell her. But I couldn't. Once again, I couldn't do anything without a lot of fuss.

'My god! You have to tell her! She can get you help before anything can go wrong!'

But then she'll ask questions. She'll want to know why. I'll scare her so badly, I can't do that.

'Then what are you going to do?!? Die?!?!'

It was only 7. If I let it run its course, I'll be fine. If something goes wrong, there are people around me.

'My god…. My god… what do we do now?' My hand tightened on the strap of my bag slightly as I remembered that I had packed my writer's notebook for when I had gone to Quatre's house. I hadn't remembered to exchange it for my work papers this morning.

Field research….

 
To be continued….

Author's notes: I just wanted to remind you guys that I've used Trowa to be me. So, if you were confused about those last few lines, he is a writer. The field research was supposed to indicate that he was going to keep track of what happened, and use it to write, as I'm doing now. *grins* Is this warped enough for you? I hope I haven't scared you off, because I'm not going to stop until I finish writing out at least the next two days including this one