14 Dec 2000
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
The blond man led the way into apartment 215, closing the door after Treize had stepped inside. He smiled, somewhat nervously, at his therapist. "Sorry about that - the neighbors, I mean. They can be a bit... overwhelming at times."
"No need to apologize, really - I enjoyed talking with them," Treize assured.
Another smile, and Zechs looked down at his clothes uncertainly. "Are... are you in a real hurry?" he asked.
Treize checked his watch - 3:30pm. "No, I'm doing fine for time," he said.
"If you don't mind then," Zechs said, somewhat sheepishly, "I really need to take a shower. I'll only be five minutes - can you wait?"
"Go ahead," the psychologist murmured with a gracious sweep of his arm. "Mind if I peruse your books in the meantime?" He pointed to a large floor to ceiling bookcase that was built into the wall opposite the door.
Zechs paled a bit. "Are you going to analyze me by what books are in there?" he asked with a nervous smile.
"Of course," Treize responded in mock seriousness. "A good psychologist doesn't even *need* the client around. We can do it by examining artifacts, just like archaeologists..." He gave the blond man charming smile.
Rolling his eyes, Zechs turned towards a short hallway. "I should have seen that one coming," he said. "There's iced tea in the frig, oh, and browse with caution - there's some, well, gay stuff in there. You might be offended by some of it. Just fair warning." With he turned and disappeared into the hallway.
/Treize... you fool. You should just tell him.../ With his host gone for the moment, Treize took the opportunity to look around the apartment. It was small, as most apartments were in San Francisco, but it had a air of spaciousness to it due to the spareness of its furnishings.
There was a comfortable looking futon sofa and a low wooden table that had a storage area inside. A small but expensive looking stereo rack system sat next to the sofa and a fireplace stood opposite that. What caught Treize's eye, though, were the wall hangings. They were kites - small and medium sized kites each with a different painting of Chinese dragon on it. Their colors were rich and jewel-like, a perfect counterpoint to the austere surroundings. "I'm sure there's a story behind those," Treize murmured, and the turned his attention to the bookcase.
It was an intriguing collection - a mix of architectural field guides, essays on Buddhist philosophy (some in the original Chinese), books on history, and some classic modern novels. Then there were the sex books: a number of collections from the top male nude photographers, books on homoerotic art, several texts on the historical aspects of homosexual relationships, and a copy of The Gay Men's Kama Sutra. Treize avoided looking too long at the photography and art books, for fear of the impression he might give when Zechs came out of the shower.
He was about to sit down with a book on the California Missions, when a large photograph album caught his eye. There was a moment's hesitation on his part, wondering if it was proper for him to look at, but he rationalized it well in that photographs of Zechs's life might well give Treize some insight into his client's psyche.
He took the book over to the sofa and sat down with it, opening it to the first page. What he saw filled him with incredible sadness.
It showed Zechs, a brilliant smile on his face, arms wrapped tight around a much smaller man. Treize reached out a finger and traced the lovely face, almond eyes so dark they were almost black and a generous mouth that seemed made for kissing. The man's skin was a warm copper color and his hair was a stunning blue-black against Zechs's platinum, hanging loose, just skimming his shoulders, a few errant wisps falling into his eyes as he laughed.
And he was laughing, and holding onto Zechs's arms as tightly as he was being held. They both looked radiantly happy. "You must be Wufei," he said softly. "Dear God, what a loss you must have been..."
He turned the pages of the album and saw images of them together and alone - at parties, cooking dinner, somewhere near the ocean, and one breathtaking photo of Zechs sitting up in bed, naked but for a tangle of sheets around his waist and hips, and laughing - so many pictures of them laughing.
It was beautiful and terribly sad, all at once - the two of them obviously so happy in each other's company. The he turned one more page and almost dropped the album. These last photos were studio quality, in black and white, and showed the two men embracing, kissing, making love. Try as he might, Treize found that he couldn't look away from them. They were so well done, so tasteful and yet powerfully erotic: Zechs just about to kiss Wufei's chest, Wufei on Zechs's lap, both of them naked, with one shot of him leaning towards Zechs, his dark hair hiding their faces, and the other with his back arched, head thrown back, expression one of profound bliss.
It got to be too much and Treize rose suddenly, putting the album away and struggling with two opposing feelings - intense arousal and devastating grief. /Maybe this was too much/ he thought staring out the window, down into the busy little street below. /Maybe I'm in over my head in coming here... /
"Sorry I took so long."
The voice nearly made Treize jump. He turned and saw Zechs come out of the hallway in faded jeans and a soft, cotton shirt. His feet were bare and his hair just the slightest bit damp. "Are... are you all right, Treize?" he asked, looking concerned.
"Yes, fine," Treize responded. /I just usually don't see my clients having sex with their partners, that's all - no big thing.../
"Well," the blond said, "bring the form into the kitchen and I'll sign it."
Treize followed him into a small but well appointed kitchen. "So, you like to cook?" he asked, noticing the small rack above the stove from which half a dozen pots dangled.
"Me? I can't do much more than boil water for pasta," Zechs said, taking a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. "Wufei's the cook -" He cut himself off abruptly and several seconds went by before he came out from behind the refrigerator door. "He really loved to cook and he was *good* at it, too. His grandmother had given him all these recipes that her mother brought over from China - she was saving them for a granddaughter, but when her daughter had three sons, she kind of figured Fei was the closest she was ever going to get..." He smiled a little, caught up in some memory and then poured out tea. "So, where's that form?"
Treize took it out of his pocket and handed it to Zechs. "Oh, no - not *these* people again," the blond man said in a resigned voice. "My aunt arranged for this policy and the people you have to deal with are complete *sadists*..." He made a face as he signed the form. and then pushed it back towards Treize.
"You said you're sister was an invalid," Treize murmured, "but does you aunt ever visit you here?"
A self-depricating smile crossed the blond man's lips. "No, she doesn't. She... always thought my... proclivities... were an embarrassment to our family. That - and the fact that Fei was Chinese. Sometimes I think that bothered her even more. She'd have probably accepted me if I'd gone off and found a nice, clean *white* boyfriend,"
"And Relena?" Treize asked, sipping at his tea. "Did she feel the same?"
Frowning in thought, Zechs hesitated. "No, not at all - she was always friendly to Fei when I brought him over. Say..." he looked up at Treize suddenly. "Is this a session?" he said with mock suspicion. "Because if it is I need to check how much cash I've got left."
Treize laughed. "No, no - I was just asking - just keeping up my end of the conversation, I swear."
"Hmm... must be hard being a psychologist -" Zechs murmured over his glass, "people always thinking that you have ulterior motives for what you do or say."
"That," Treize said strongly, "is indeed true. I once had a client who was certain we had the bathrooms wired for video so we could study people's behavior when they peed." He gave Zechs a wry smile. "So - you like bike riding?"
Zechs shrugged and put one foot up on his chair. "It helps sometimes. I just start going and don't stop until I'm exhausted. Once in a while it means I can sleep without... well, you know."
/He's going to kill himself this way not eating much and over exercising... maybe a new angle.../
"Tell me something, Zechs," the older man said softly. "Why is it that you don't think Wufei killed himself?"
Zechs had been running his fingernail over the frosty glass of tea, but at Treize's words he looked up suddenly, eyes wide. "How... how did you... know that?"
Treize smiled. "I'd like to claim that it's amazing clinical skills, but really, if you're having dreams about pushing him, and you say it's getting hard to tell what's real and what isn't, that does point to your believing that Wufei *was* pushed, even though it may not have been you that pushed him."
A look of shock had come over the blond, and Treize could see he was trembling. "But... there wasn't anyone there but me, for that moment at least... but you're right. They all keep saying it was suicide but it doesn't make sense. Fei had *no* reason to do that. He was happy - we were happy - and why would he..." Zechs broke off and buried his face in his hands. "He wouldn't leave me like that!" he said, voice broken and trying to hold back sobs. "Not if he could help it! But if he didn't do it - it had to be me!"
Treize moved his chair closer to the distraught man and put and arm around his back. "Zechs, just as you believe that he had no reason to kill himself, you surely have to see that you had no reason to push him. If the one doesn't make sense, then neither does the other. It must have been some kind of terrible accident."
But Zechs was shaking his head. "No... they said it couldn't have been - the window casing was too deep..." He dropped his hands and looked up into Treize's face. "You know what scares me most? That it could have happened - that I could have done something to him - during one of my spells."
"Spells?" Treize asked, looking puzzled.
"Ever since I was a kid," Zechs answered, looking down at his hands now, "I've had these... these weird blackouts where I just didn't know what went on for a minute or so. I'd come to and be in the same place I was, but other people could have moved, or said things I didn't hear. Everyone else had been going on with what they were doing and... and I just... wasn't there. My mother called them 'spells'"
An image of Zechs's intake form came to Treize's mind: 'seizure episodes in childhood - diagnosis of epilepsy inconclusive.'
"Zechs, when you had these 'black outs,' did you get any warning signs that one was coming? A strange smell, perhaps, or a bad feeling?"
"No - nothing," the younger man answered. "They just... *came* and I was out for 20 seconds or so, sometimes up to a minute. The teachers and my parents said that I blinked a lot and sometimes stroked my hair, but I never remembered anything."
"Were you ever treated for them?" Treize asked.
A strange sort of shudder came over Zechs and he stood up. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said.
Treize felt a wave of disappointment, but stood anyway. "All right," he said, "then I'd better get this back to the clinic." He waved the form and smiled at his client. "I'm sorry to bring up bad memories, but we really do have to do some work on those, all right?"
Zechs hs was already walking towards the front door. "Yeah, all right," he said softly, then turned to look at Treize. "Why are you asking about the spells? Do *you* think I could have done something during one?"
Treize shook his head. "Not if they were the kind I'm thinking they were," he said. "But I'll do some digging and see what I can find out about them, okay?"
"Yeah. Sure," the blond said. "Thanks for bringing the insurance stuff."
"It was my pleasure, Zechs, and, if you don't mind, I'd like to have you do a couple of things before our session on Thursday."
"What do you want me to do?" Zechs said uneasily, holding the door open.
"First, I'd like you to write down everything - and I do mean *everything* that you remember about that day. Start at dawn and go on until you left the mission. Then, if you have the dream again before then, try to write it down exactly as it occurs, *as soon as you wake up.* Can you do those for me?
"I'll... I'll try," came the quiet reply.
"Thanks," Treize said, giving the blond's arm a squeeze. "I'll see you Thursday then."
"All right - good bye." Zechs closed his door and Treize was alone in the hallway. He stared at the door to 215. "Very well, Mr. Marquise. You had 'spells' when you were little where you couldn't remember things, and you get uncomfortable talking about the treatment your parents got for you... Let's just dig into that a bit more and see where it leads us, shall we?"
With reluctance, he turned away from the door and headed back down to where his car was parked.
End of Chapter 4
(:./kumiko/rr4)
