11 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 first thing Treize had done after the evening session with Zechs was talk to the police. If there was any sort of criminal aspect to the case, he had to know, and fast. He was obligated by the laws of California to report criminal activity, even though he hated having to do it. It drove a potential wedge between the therapist and the patient, sowing the seeds of mistrust, but the law had been passed two years before when a therapist failed to report her client's threat about killing his girlfriend, whom he did eventually murder. The legislature had a scared and angry electorate to face and had passed the law without much thought of what it would do to therapeutic effectiveness. Now they were all bound by it.
Luckily, the case was considered closed by the Oceanside Police Department. Several witnesses testified that Zechs was too far from the window to have pushed the young man through it and although he was the prime suspect initially, the police had quickly eliminated him.
So now it was time to determine the nature of the dreams and why they were reoccurring. The obvious place to start, Treize felt, was to revisit the day of Wufei's death - to go over it in detail and help Zechs remember as much as he could about what led up to it. The fact that the blond man couldn't remember it actually happening was troubling and unless that was resolved, it would be hard convincing Zechs that he hadn't killed his lover.
He was looking through a new book on interviewing witnesses, scrounging for some good techniques, when Anne, the clinic director came into his office. "Treize?" she said, sounding harried as usual. "That new client of yours, Marquise? He has to sign his insurance form." She waved a baby blue form at him. "His insurance company is being downright whiny and if this doesn't get faxed to them by 6pm they won't pay. We've tried calling him but there's been no answer."
"I'll take it to him," Treize said suddenly, interrupting her.
"What?" she said, looking at him strangely. "Treize, you don't *have* to -"
"I know I don't, but I want to" he said, almost defiantly. "He has so many excuses for not coming in that I'm not about to give him anymore." He marveled at his own quick wit. He hadn't been thinking of it that way until the moment he said the words but he was grateful for the inspiration anyway.
What he *had* been thinking of was seeing the place where Zechs lived. He wasn't at all sure why it was important to him, but it was, so after his last appointment at 2pm, he took the form and caught the trolly down to Zechs's neighborhood, near Fisherman's Wharf. He tried his best not to think too deeply about what he was doing, and why.
The address Zechs had given on his intake form turned out to be a pleasant 40s style apartment building. It was on a tiny street about three blocks off the wharf, surrounded by others of its kind and the occasional architectural or design office. He walked in to the lobby and found Zechs's mailbox, which read:
Apt. 215
Chang/Marquise
/He hasn't changed that yet. Still a lot of denial, I'd wager.../ Treize filed the thought away to ponder later and climbed the stairs to the second floor. There were four apartments there and he walked to 215, knocking on the glowing wooden door. No answer came from within, no sound either, and no one came to answer to his knock.
"Damn," he muttered, looking down at the form in his hands. /For all I know he could be in there and just not answering out of sheer bloodymindedness.../ He knocked again, more vigorously this time and called out. "Zechs? Are you in there? It's Doc - It's Treize."
The next door over to the right, 213, opened suddenly and a slender, dark-haired woman looked out at him. She wore tight jeans and an oxford shirt and looked stunning without a scrap of makeup. "You can knock all you want, honey, but he's not there." She eyed him briefly, her eyes flickering up and down his body, and then grinned rather disarmingly and stepped out into the hallway. "Well it's about *time*!" she said cheerfully. "I was telling him only last week he needed to go out and find himself a hunk of man to keep him company and damn if you aren't one!" Her grin didn't fade as she crossed her arms and leaned against her door frame.
Treize gave her a blank look. "I beg your pardon?"
She laughed lightly. "Well, he's been really depressed, you know, and I told him that he needed to be out there looking for some serious male company - that there's hardly any kind of blues a good session in bed can't cure - even if it's temporary." Her grin broadened. "So, have you two been dating long? I don't think I've seen you around before?"
"No, no! I'm not dating him!" Treize said, realizing too late what it looked like to the young woman. "I'm his ther- that is, I'm just dropping something off that needs to be signed this afternoon." He waved the blue form in his own defense.
"Ooops - sorry about that!" the woman said, "my mistake. But I can give it to him if you like - when he comes back."
"Well," Treize looked down at the sheet of paper, "I really need to get back this afternoon. Do you know how long he'll be by any chance?"
"Noin, what are you doing? We were in the middle of -" Another head peeked out of the doorway to 213 - a young man with platinum blond hair just a shade more golden than Zechs's. "Oh, sorry - didn't mean to sound cranky!" he said amiably to Treize.
"He's looking for Zechs - has a form he has to sign today. Did he say when he'd be back?"
"About three," the blond man answered. "He was going across the bridge to Sausalito."
Treize checked his watch - 45 minutes. "Well, I guess I'll just wait downstairs then," he said, turning to leave.
"Oh, no - don't do that!" the blond countered. "There's nothing to sit on down there and it's boring. Why don't you come in and wait here?"
Treize was about to demur when the woman, Noin, added, "and we have some great Thai iced tea I just made. How about it? We can even leave the front door open so you don't miss him."
Hesitating just a bit, Treize thought for a moment and then decided that he might be able to find out a bit more about his new client by chatting with the neighbors, so he smiled and nodded. "All right, you've convinced me. Thanks, I appreciate it."
They led him into a small apartment that was covered in fabric swatches. Three dressmakers dummies stood around the living room in various states of undress, and stacked in the hall were nine or ten medium sized packages, all stamped, addressed, and ready to be mailed.
"Have a seat on the sofa," Noin called, "you can see out the front door that way." She headed into the back of the apartment while the young man moved a bolt of mulberry colored velvet off of the coffee table and then held out his hand to Treize. "I'm Quatre, by the way - Quatre Winner. Forgive the mess, but this is our living quarters *and* our business."
Treize took his hand, surprised by the firmness of the grip, and then sat down. "Treize Khushrenada - very pleased to meet you. What kind of business are your in?" he said, looking around the apartment with a little puzzlement.
"Clothing design," Quatre answered, "Noin does the actual designing, I do the books and the promotion. It's chaotic but we wouldn't give it up for anything." His grin, like Noin's was disarming and Treize found himself smiling back. "How do you know Zechs?" Quatre asked, as Noin arrived with tall glasses full of reddish tea.
"Through a medical facility - I work there, he was a patient," Treize offered and then took a long sip of tea. It was delicious - strong and sweet.
"Too bad," Noin said to Quatre in mock disappointment. "I saw him and thought he was Zechs's new boyfriend."
Quatre made a face at her. "You're an incorrigible matchmaker, you know that?" he said. Then looking at Treize suddenly, he said, "Oh, gosh - I hope you're not offended! Us talking like this, that is..."
"No offense taken at all," Treize assured him, "I suppose it's good that he has a couple of friends watching out for his best interests."
"Well, he needs it, poor baby," Noin murmured in a rather protective way as she slid down the sofa cushions and squeezed in next to Quatre. "It's been horrible for him lately - his partner died several months ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Had they been together long?"
"Several years," Quatre said, "and they were really close. Spent every available minute together, finished each other's sentences, that kind of thing. It was really very sad." He shook his head and stared down into his tea. "Noin and I have been trying to cheer him up, but it's been anything but easy."
"I can imagine," Treize said softly, remembering Zechs's face as he talked about the dreams he'd been having. It had been eerie, haunted, almost as if something was hounding him and Treize wondered what else might lie behind the sad story.
Treize changed the topic so the two neighbors wouldn't find it odd that a perfect stranger was asking questions, and they talked for awhile about the vagaries of the California fashion industry, the latest exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art - which they had all seen - and the joys of living in San Francisco. Three o'clock came and went, and still Zechs hadn't come.
"Well, I shouldn't keep you," Treize said at last, standing up. "I guess I'll just have to try another time." A wave of disappointment passed through him and he found himself reluctant to leave. As they walked out into the hallway, however, they heard footsteps coming up the staircase at them. A moment later, Zechs appeared, carrying a bicycle and blinked at them all, standing there, staring down at him. Then he noticed Treize.
"Doctor? I mean, Treize? What are you..." He trailed off then, and just stood there, not knowing what to do.
"There's something I need you to sign - for the insurance - and it has to be sent today, so I volunteered to drop by with it."
An expression Treize couldn't fathom crossed Zechs's even features. "Oh, of course. Well, bring it in, please." He climbed the remaining stairs and put the bike down, unlocking the door to 215. Noin and Quatre still smiled cheerfully from their door.
"I'm *fine* mothers," Zechs said to them and then headed into his own apartment.
Noin gave Treize a wink and a thumbs up sign before being pulled back into her own place by Quatre. He could just make out, "Don't even think about it, Noin - they don't even know each other..." as the door closed behind them. Shaking his head a bit, Treize smiled and followed Zechs.
End of Chapter 3
(:./kumiko/rr3)
