4 Jan 2001
Chapter nine - dinner.
DISCLAIMER: All Gundam Wing characters are property of Sunrise, Bandai Visuals, Sotsu Agency, and Asahi TV. This work is not written for profit, but for entertainment purposes only.
PAIRINGS: 6x5/5x6, 13x6/6x13, some very mild 4x9
WARNING: AU/modern day San Francisco; implied yaoi will turn to yaoi and eventual lemon in later chapters
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: To Alfred Hitchock who directed the incredible film, "Vertigo."
"Dreams are the Royal Road to the unconscious."- Sigmund Freud
They had been fortunate to arrive at Martinelli's a mere five minutes before the dinner rush, and now the two men were seated in one of the restaurants well-known curtained booths, hidden from the other diners and disturbed only by the occasional arrival of their waiter with their drinks.
Taking a long pull on his glass of chianti, Treize eyed his client over the rim of his glass. "Do you like visiting your sister and aunt, Zechs?" he murmured.
The blond man had been toying with the stem of his own glass of Pinot Grigio. He looked up at Treize and then shrugged. "It's not too bad, I guess. I've always though Cathrine a bit odd, but I know Relena really appreciates the visits. I go mostly for her sake."
Treize smiled at him and sat back in the cushiony booth. "Well, she certainly seems to adore you - in that special way that little sisters have..."
"Ah," Zechs said and nodded in understanding, "that would be the 'I'll-beat-up-on-you-to-show-you-how-much-I-adore-you' technique. Yes, she's always been *very* good at that."
"If you don't mind my asking, what keeps her in bed?"
"A couple of things," Zechs said, regarding Treize a little curiously for asking. "She has a hole in heart that makes it dangerous for her to move around much, and she was also born with some kind of nerve deformity. I'm not sure of the exact medical terminology, but whatever it was caused the nerves in her legs not to work properly and because of that the muscles have always been extremely weak."
"Can she walk at all?" Treize asked, taking a breadstick and breaking it in half.
"Yes," Zechs replied, "a bit - but she has to put on braces that are heavy and apparently it causes her a lot of pain. So she mostly stays in bed. Occasionally Cathrine will take her out somewhere in a wheelchair, but she prefers to stay home."
"That must be very difficult - for her and for you."
"Not for me really," Zechs said quietly. "After all, I'm the 'normal' one. She's the one who can't walk."
"You seem like the type who would feel guilty about that kind of thing, though. Or maybe I'm wrong..."
The waiter had brought their salads and Zechs had a moment to look away. When the man had gone he turned back to his therapist. "Well you are good at your job, aren't you?" he said quietly.
Treize looked at him thoughtfully. "Meaning...?"
Looking down at his wineglass, Zechs let out the tiniest sigh. "I do feel *very* guilty about her. She's the one stuck there in bed and yet she's always been the more cheerful one." He took another sip and his voice fell to a whisper. "She would never have tried to kill herself..."
"Zechs, you can't compare the two of you like that. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. That doesn't make one person 'better' than another... or more worthy of living." His gaze was frank held Zechs's for several moments before the blond man looked down at his uneaten salad.
"Sometimes," he said softly, "during these past five months, I've wished that I could die and that she could have my physical strength. She's got the stronger spirit... It's very unfair that she ended up with a body that wouldn't allow her to use it."
Treize studied him. "That wasn't your fault, Zechs. Is that what you're thinking?"
"Maybe," came the quiet reply. "My mother got pregnant with Relena the year my seizures started. She was worried a lot of the time - and angry with me. It could have been..."
His voice trailed off and he looked up at Treize, shrugging and smiling. "Anyway, I've tried to make it up to her - tried to be a good brother."
Treize frowned a bit. "As I said, Zechs, Relena's problems were *not* your fault - that kind of thing happens and no one is to blame for it. But you must be a very good brother to her because it's obvious she thinks the world of you."
On an impulse, he reached out and gave Zechs's hand a squeeze. "So give yourself a break. You don't need to carry around guilt that isn't yours."
Zechs let out a little huff of breath and stared down at where Treize's hand covered his own. When he looked up, Treize's eyes were on him - direct, but gentle as well. "But that's always been my job," he murmured with no little irony. "I'm the fuck-up of the family. I'm the one who was always getting into trouble and being disobedient. Isn't there one in every family?"
"As far as I know, that isn't an actual 'requirement,'" Treize said. "So if that's what you're thinking, you can relax."
Zechs gave him a mock glare. "You don't think that people play roles in families?" he said in a low voice. "You don't think we're given them, or fall into them, and are expected to play them out? Because *I* do. In my family it was always *very* clear who was to play the 'problem child.'"
Treize leaned forward, hoping somehow to make Zechs see his point by sheer force of will. "Perhaps that was the way you saw it as a child, an adolescent," he said, "or perhaps that was the way it really *was* in your family. But one thing is certain, Zechs - you're an adult now. *You're* the one calling the shots, *you're* the only one who is allowed to define a role for yourself now."
His hand was gripping Zechs's and he stared hard into the blond man's eyes. "It doesn't have to be the role your parents chose for you. It can be whatever you want it to be. All you have to do - and I realize it's no easy task - is to recognize that they don't hold that kind of power over you anymore. It's *yours* now."
Treize hadn't realized as he'd been talking that Zechs had begun to squeeze his hand every bit as hard as he was squeezing Zechs's. Now they sat for several moments in silence, just holding on to each other's hands. He could feel Zechs trembling through that touch and ached to be able to reach out and pull him close. /Vulnerable client, public place - don't even think about it, Khushrenada.../
Zechs's voice was only a whisper in that silence. "Thank you, Treize... I hadn't thought of it that way."
A soft smile crossed Treize's face and he was about to respond when the curtains were whisked aside and their waiter arrived with their entrees. They broke apart quickly, but not fast enough to avoid the waiter's obvious look of "oh, another pair of *those* types again."
"Your food, *gentlemen,*" he said abruptly. Zechs cast him a dark look, then softened and smiled. "Would you please get me a dish of green olives?" the blond man asked in a sweet voice.
The waiter looked put upon but nodded and went off to get them. Zechs looked over at Treize and whispered, "Just play along - no matter what I say, all right?" A forked eyebrow raised in puzzlement, but the therapist nodded.
Reappearing at their table with a small dish of pimento-filled olives, the waiter put them down in front of Zechs. "Oh, *thank* you," Zechs gushed. "You know, it's been this way ever since I got pregnant - I just can't get enough green olives." He picked up a large handful, nearly the entire dish, and popped them all into his mouth at once.
Treize stifled a laugh and looked up at the startled waiter with an expression of long-suffering. "*Every* evening, *every* morning - it's the same thing. Olives, olives, olives. And then he goes into these absolute *fits* when he *has* to have creamed corn or die."
Zechs nodded vigourously up at the waiter, mouth still too full to speak.
"The doctor says it will go away when the baby comes," Treize added, "meanwhile I'm thinking of packing him off to his best girlfriend's for a few days so I can get some rest and watch wrestling on television again."
Zechs had swallowed, loudly, and looked up at the waiter pitiously, patting his stomach as he did so. "It's all the sweat," he said delicately, "on the wrestlers. It makes me nauseous." The he looked at Treize adoringly. "But he's such a wonderful husband - still loves me even though I'm getting fat..."
The waiter gave a disgusted huff and left the table, whereupon each man took a side of the curtain and whisked it close. Then burt into laughter.
"You were *perfect,*" Zechs said in an appreciative voice. "I couldn't have asked for better - the wrestling comment was a stroke of genius."
"Thank you," Treize said, failing to cover a happy smirk. "I nearly got nauseated myself, looking at you - you're very good at that."
"I've been watching Noin, my neighbor," Zechs replied. "She's about eight weeks along. A perfect role model." He shook his head. "I despise pompous asses like that - so ready to let you know they're absolutely *disgusted* with you. So, if they expect it, why not disgust them, that's what I say."
Treize gave him a wide smile. "Something tells me that you've done this sort of thing before..."
"Oh, Fei and I used to do it all the time," Zechs said. "He was *much* better than I was at it. His best performance was when we were in this little diner in the foothills, coming back from a skiing trip. He pretended to have PMS - got all cranky and them practically doubled over crying with 'cramps.' It was all I could do not to burst out laughing and spoil the effect."
"Well I bet *that* got some attention from the wait staff," Treize laughed.
"Oh, it did," Zechs nodded. In fact, one of the waitresses was so convinced, she actually dug out her purse and gave him some Midol."
"Did he take it?" Treize asked, still laughing.
"Absolutely," Zechs said. "I had fun teasing him that he'd be spotting by the time we got back to the city."
Wiping his eyes, Treize shook his head. "It sounds like you two had a wonderful time being together." Then he stopped and looked up at the blond, hoping he hadn't said something that would be painful.
But Zechs was smiling softly. "We did," he said. "We did indeed." Then he laughed softly and looked over at Treize. "Thanks for playing along."
"My pleasure," Treize replied. "Now - shall we eat this mountain of fat and calories that our dear waiter has set before us?"
"Every bit of it," Zechs said firmly. "We're eating for two now, you know."
Treize gave another laugh and they clinked their glasses, then dug into their plates.
It was almost nine o'clock when Treize pulled up outside Zechs's apartment building. They had finished dinner and then walked around North Beach for a couple of hours, watching the tourists for amusement before driving back to the little street behind Fisherman's Wharf.
Zechs got out of the car and squatted down beside the passenger side window. "Thanks for driving - and for dinner. I appreciate you listening to all my problems."
"That's why I make the big bucks," Treize said dryly, wanting to say that even if he weren't Zechs's therapist he would gladly listen to his problems all night long.
A wry smile was his reply. "I'll see you on Monday, then - 5 o'clock," Zechs said.
"Right - enjoy the rest of the weekend."
Zechs stood and walked slowly into the building. Treize's eyes were on him the entire way. /Don't go... come back in my car with me - or invite me up to see those pretty kites... Anything. Just don't leave yet...
/Damn. It's time I talk to Anne about this.../
End of Chapter 9
(:./kumiko/rr9)
