10 Nov 2000
A renegade muse struck. Actually I can't remember if I've sent this to the list before, but as I'm going to start writing it in earnest, I thought perhaps you folks might like to see it.
It will eventually be 6x5/5x6 and 13x6/6x13 with little bits of 4x9 here and there.
Enough babbling - hope you like it.
kumi ^_^
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, implied yaoi will turn to yaoi and eventual lemon in later chapters
"Dreams are the Royal Road to the unconscious."- Sigmund Freud
Clinic referral case no. 72256
Client name: Z. Marquise
Referring clinician: S. Po
Presenting symptoms: sleeplessness, anxiety, decreased appetite, depression
Treize Khushrenada looked through the scant information on his new client and sighed. Another therapy patient with identical symptoms to thousands of other therapy patients the clinic saw every day. They came in saying they were worried or maybe just a little troubled, that they couldn't eat, or ate too much, that sleep was eluding their weary nights or that sleep was the only thing they were doing lately - a veritable potpourri of common problems that nearly *anyone* living in a civilized country at the turn of the millennium could boast.
Mostly they were young women, drifting in boring jobs and looking for Mr. Right. They had a vague sense that their lives weren't turning out the way they wanted them to, and that they weren't as happy as any bright, middle-class American *should* be. So they ended up here, in places like the Midtown Clinic to worship at the altar of that exalted cure-all, psychological therapy. And for some reason, they were all dumped into Treize's lap by Anne, the director of the Clinic.
Well, he'd had enough. He picked up the almost empty file folder for "Z. Marquise" and headed out of his office to dump it right back into her lap. He was crossing the waiting room when the receptionist, Hilde called his name. Crossing to her counter, he murmured something about being busy but she wouldn't be deterred. "Your client is here, but he's looking awfully nervous. I'm afraid he might bolt, so I wondered whether you were free to start your session a little early."
/Great,/ he thought to himself. Now there's no hope of refusing the case./"Of course," he said, putting on an aura of calm authority. /Well at least it's a *male* - that's different.../
Hilde called out, "Zechs Marquise?" and Treize waited.
Out of the mass of clients waiting to be seen, a tall, slim man stood. Treize watched him as he walked towards the counter, long blond hair shading his face, a worn backpack slung over one shoulder. The young man stopped and looked at Hilde, then Treize, As the hair fell away from his face, Treize was struck by two things: how exquisitely beautiful he was and how utterly haunted his eyes looked.
It took effort to look away from those eyes. They were blue, the color the sky would be on an early winter morning, and framed by lashes like long, golden pen strokes. Holding out his hand, he said, a little too heartily, "Nice to meet you. 'Zechs' is it? I'm Dr. Khushrenada."
"Hi," the blond said quietly and then, "Thank you for seeing me - I know your schedules are full."
Hilde had propped her arm on the counter, chin in her hand, and was staring at the young blond man with the same expression she wore when she perused the menu of the deli around the corner. In an attempt to save his new client from any sudden pounces on her part, he led the way to his office at the back of the clinic.
"Come on in," he murmured, heading for the coffee pot. "Can I get you some coffee? Pot's fresh."
"Thank you, yes. Black, please."
"So, I suppose this would be the appropriate time to ask what brings you here. Your intake form is very vague." Treize handed Zechs a cup of coffee and then walked over to his desk and picked up the form, sipping the hot liquid as best he could while trying to sit down. "You say you're primary symptom is not being able to sleep. How long has that been going on?"
Zechs remained standing and wandered over to the window as he spoke. "It began about two months ago. I had trouble falling asleep and then I'd wake up and not be able to go *back* to sleep."
"And are you still having those problems?" Treize asked, reaching for his notepad and beginning to write things down.
"No - not any more. Now I just don't sleep at all." He looked up at Treize from the window, the light from the city outside gilding his hair. "I haven't slept in a week. I just can't."
"What's preventing you? Can you identify it?"
"I thought that was your job," Zechs said quietly, still not facing the therapist.
"My job..." Treize mused. "My job," he said more decisively, "is to help you help yourself and that means you have to work with me, Zechs. What do you say?" He gave the blond the most trustworthy smile he could.
Zechs said nothing for a long moment and then leaned against the frame of the bookshelf that stood near the window, gazing at the psychologist with achingly clear blue eyes.
"I keep having nightmares that I killed my lover."
~ End of teaser ~
On to:
(:./kumiko/teaser3)
