Title: Company

Author: Mistress Tsunami

Rating: R

Pairings: 3x4

Warnings: Heero angst! Major major! Umm...death, but not of a main character. X-mas depression. AU. OOC, but it's AU, so that's a given.

Heero stared out his bedroom window, lukewarm tea in his hand. His legs curled about him on his bed, positioned so that he could see out the window, and into the sky.

It was snowing. It was Christmas-time, the time of year that Heero liked the least. His parents had died only a few years before, on Christmas Eve. It had been a tragic accident, both of them caught in a car crash on their way home – to him. Their cab had been hit by a drunk driver; it was a hit and run.

Not very many people knew much about Heero Yuy. He was a lone college student, roomed by himself, never got any mail, and seemed unusually crabby around Christmas. The lone card he got had been from an old friend, Trowa, and had merely contained the lyrics to an old Christmas movie. They described his path aptly, if not perfectly.

A few choice lyrics skimmed through his head as he watched the wind blow snow off the trees in the college green, which he had been lucky enough to face. 'When a cold wind blows it chills you, chills you to the bone. But there's nothing in nature that freezes you harder than years of being alone. It paints you with indifference like a lady paints with rouge, but the worst of the worst, the most hated and cursed, is the one that we call Scrooge...' 1 Heero was a Scrooge, in the strictest sense of the word, but he hadn't always been that way. No, there was a time when Heero had loved Christmas, and had loved it with all of his heart.

"Hey Heero, wait up!" Heero turned towards Trowa's familiar call. Trowa was his neighbor and classmate, and when possible they walked home together. Heero hadn't realized that Trowa would be free this afternoon, so he hadn't waited. Trowa, however, had caught him leaving.

"Trowa," Heero greeted as they began to walk. Both had been boys of few words for a time, and still were that way with strangers, but around each other they felt free enough to talk to each other.

And talk they did.

"What's Santa bringing you for Christmas?" Trowa asked, the familiar jibe. Both boys had learned years ago of their not-quite-so-mystical givers of gifts, but still enjoyed the memories and traditions of the secret gift-giving.

"Don't know. I didn't really ask for much this year. I'm hoping for one of those new laptops before I go off to college next year, but I doubt I'll get one. They're probably saving that for graduation. Oh, but there were a few computer games I wanted to have, and some books on writing." That was Heero's little secret, the small thing that only Trowa and Heero's parents knew. Heero wanted to be a writer.

"Nice. I'd take the laptop. I'm hoping for a car again, but I doubt it'll happen," Trowa said with a sigh, "I'll just have to keep my old junker. But I AM hoping for a new flute. Which reminds me, there's someone I want you to meet. I met him at band, he's our age, and he has a brother that he's bringing to our New Year's Eve party. You ARE coming, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it!"

"Great! He's wonderful, I just know you're going to love him."

Heero snickered as they reached the gate to his house, and Trowa's right next door. "Sounds like someone already loves him."

Trowa blushed to the roots of his strange hair. "You...don't mind. Do you?"

"That you're gay? Hell no. If I minded, I'd have to hurt myself for being bi."

Trowa sighed in relief. "Thanks Heero. I don't know how I'm going to do this."

"Be yourself, and he'll come around. Ask before you make a move though which way he swings. It's better to have him as a friend than not at all, you know," Heero warned. "But don't worry. You're quite a catch, I'm sure you'll get 'im, li'l bro."

Trowa smirked. "You know, that doesn't work anymore."

"True. You're taller than me. Damn."

That had been the day before his Christmas break. The last break he would spend with his parents, little over a week before they had died. Heero continued to stare out the window. How could he have known that something was going to happen? He should have been more considerate, more careful. Maybe he should have protested more about them leaving for a party so close to their traditional Christmas time. Their family time.

But Heero couldn't. He couldn't say that they were wrong or that he was. More importantly, he couldn't change anything.

And then he had cut himself off from the few friends he had his senior year. He had dismissed Trowa's party and nearly ignored him altogether.

For some reason, though, he still sent Trowa his spare keys, and Trowa sent him his. For as long as he could remember they had done this. Heero got a new chest, both boys had a key, Trowa got a new car, both boys had keys, Heero moved into a dorm, both boys had keys, Trowa moved into an apartment, both boys had keys. Maybe Heero was hoping that, when things got bad, someone would remember him, would remember the time they spent together.

Maybe he was just hoping that he wouldn't be alone forever.

Whatever it was, Heero didn't know. And right then, he didn't care. He just wanted to sit there, on his bed in his single room, and stare at the snow. It would be his second Christmas since his parents had died.

His third New Years.

Merry Christmas, Heero; your parents are dead.

'...there goes Mr. Sneer. He has no time for friends or fun, his anger makes that clear...'

'...no crust and bread for those in need; no cheeses for us meeses...' 2

"Poor kid, and on Christmas, too."

"I know. What do we do?"

"Tell him. He's old enough to be out on his own if he wishes, or he could stay with friends, family. This is going to hit him hard."

"Is there nothing?"

"We can't do anything, I'm afraid. Technically, he has a home to return to and is old enough to be on his own legally; we can't keep him if he wants to leave."

"Sir?" Heero asked, knocking on the door and opening it slightly. He gave no indication that he had overheard. "Sir, can you tell me about my parents? Are they going to be all right?"

He had not expected the nurse to break down in tears and flee.

"Heero, come in and sit down for a minute." Heero sat in one of the chairs, watching warily as the doctor sat on the empty bed. "Heero, I don't really know how to say this. I don't want to say this, especially not now. Your parents are dead, Heero."

Heero didn't move. Didn't speak. And then, quietly, "Can I see them, please?"

"It's not a pretty sight."

"I just want to say good-bye."

"Of course."

The lock in the room turned. Heero jerked, watching it, careful not to spill his now cold tea. He had to sleep there at night.

Trowa walked in, followed by two silent figures with boxes plainly wrapped, and not overly bright. "Merry Christmas, Heero," Trowa greeted.

"Why are you here?" Heero snapped, turning away.

"I'm here because I'd still like you to meet someone. And it's Christmas. You've been letting your gifts accumulate for nearly two years now, mother's getting worried that you'll never come for them." Heero snorted. "We brought a few with us."

"Whatever."

"Heero this is Duo Maxwell. I think you two might get along quite nicely, if Heero ever gets his head out of his ass."

"I like my head where it is, thank you very much. I am perfectly content to sit here and wallow in my misery," Heero stated in a you-already-KNEW-that tone.

"And I am not content to let you," Trowa shot back. "Heero, meet Quatre Winner, Duo's brother and my boyfriend."

1 Lyrics from 'A Muppet Christmas Carol.'

2 more lyrics from the same. Last word is 'meeses', yes. It's mice, pronounced 'me-s' with the plural added, for dramatic effect, I think. Another line in the song is 'it's even worse for mouses.' As the animals in here represent people, this is probably meant to be a slur on the poorer class, the workers. Enough with the analyzing...