Disclaimer: I do not own Desperate Housewives, or any of the characters or people mentioned in this fic. I wish I owned one of them, but I don't. I'll get over it. And if not, I can write myself into one of these things with him. Meanwhile, I can't be sued. Good, eh?

Psychiatrists notes - Bree Van De Kamp

Since her husband's death, I personally have noticed Bree's behaviour becoming increasingly erratic. She appears to withdraw into herself at the slightest provocation, and during this time projects a façade that cannot be broken. I've already filed for this to be named 'The Stepford Wife Complex'. I hope to get my name in the next edition of 'The Medical Journal'. Oh, that'd really show my workmates…and my wife. She'll regret ever running away with her tennis coach once I'm famous.

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Pardon. As I was saying, Bree's behaviour exhibits all the stereotypes of the ideal wife, and this ties in with the idea that perhaps she is trying to make up for the stress she caused Rex in life. Maybe she even believes during these catatonic moments that he is still with her, and this is why she tries to be perfect, as a spouse. Unlike certain other spouses I could mention.

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Excuse me. Bree's 'antics' are not going unnoticed amongst the residents of Wisteria Lane either. Although I reprimand gossiping, and view it as an unhealthy habit, I admit I am intrigued by the housewives tales. Apparently Bree has been seen watering her flower beds in the middle of the night, and neighbours have heard hoovering at unearthly hours in the morning. When I mention this to Bree, she has no recollection of this, and in fact disregards it as the hallucinations of a bored neighbourhood. This reinforces my theory that Bree enters a catatonic state at times when she is under stress, and possibly (taking into account the nighttime activities) sleepwalks as well.

Another interesting thing I feel the need to mention is a sudden change in Bree's perceptions of historic events. I don't mean she has begun denying the Holocaust, or 9/11, of course not. I'm referring to my notes of a previous session, before Rex's death, when we were talking about Bree's anal retentiveness, attention to detail, and obsessive compulsion. In the session, we talked about her mother's death, and Bree revealed to me an interesting and important fact about the night, possibly the root of all her trouble (see notes, 5/6/05)

However, when I quizzed her about it recently, thinking perhaps I would be able to connect her current situation with it, I was met with a wall of blankness. Bree has retained no memory of the night which we only talked about a month or so ago. For some reason, her subconscious has deleted it, and now Bree cannot remember what happened to her parent. In fact, I have begun to suspect that her mind has cut out that entire section judging from the state she enters when interrogated about that time period. I suspect there is a much deeper lying reason than just the grief of her husbands demise, although this acts as a catalyst to the problem. I will make a note to pursue this line of thought.

End of notes. Back home to sob into Jillian's answering machine again.

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Justin gasped. Every muscle in his body tightened, and his body bucked. For a moment, his body arched into the air, he froze. Then he slowly sank back onto the bed, and felt a hand gently snake its way back up his body. He drew a breath, feeling the damp on his skin drying quickly, only to sense a tongue following the path of the hand before it. He had to exhale again.

Andrew curled up next to him, hand possesively splayed over Justins chest. He started making small slow circles with his index finger, each time digging in slightly with his nail, leaving a tiny red semicircle enunciating the edge. Just to let Justin know who was boss. He half expected the younger boy to start tattooing his name into his chest. 'Property of Andrew Van De Kamp. Do Not Touch!'. To be honest, he wouldn't put it past him. He was very possesive, despite the fact that Justin was both older and bigger. Something else that confused the boy was their respective connections. The fact of Andrew's clutching hold of him, yet his relaxed attitude to their 'relationship', if it could be called that, confused Justin. In the end, it came down to the fact that Justin was in love, sweet, unconditional love, and Andrew...well, Andrew seemed to be out for a cheap shag whenever he wanted it, froma person who could be relied on to deliver exactly what was wanted. Just like after his father had died, Andrew never showed his feelings about anything. Maybe it was that deep down, he never wanted to admit an attachment to another person for fear of losing them as well.

"You know, that Solis woman you garden for. Since her husbands in prison, you couldn't hook me and her up, could you? Just for half an hour or so?"

Then again, maybe the boy was just an asshole. A possesive, hoarding, callous asshole. But unfortunately...

"Maybe."

...he was too gutless and whipped to say anything.

Any further treacherous thoughts were cut short, as the sound of a door opening and closing echoed down the hall. Justin froze then, as footsteps sounded down the hall, leapt up. Both boys were totally and utterly naked, and although that had been a good thing seconds before, with the sudden arrival of someone else, it was now most cetainly not a situation either one wanted to be caught in. Wrapping a sheet around himself, he cast about on the floor for his clothes. Nowhere. He glanced at Andrew, who was twirling something around his finger.

"What are you doing? We need to hide, or to get dressed, or..." Wait. Twirling something.

Upon a cursory inspection, the item turned out to be Justins pants. He watched gobsmacked, too stunned and scared to even protest, as Andrew stood. A slow, sinister smile grew

across the younger boys face. "What's the rush? Why don't you get back onto the bed, huh? There's nothing to worry about."

Justin croaked, then moistened his tongue. "What? Do you want to be caught by your mother? Gimme those!" He tried to snatch them out of his grasp, but Andrew lithely skipped out of his reach. Opening the door, he turned and stared at Justin again with a look of real malice in his eyes."Oh, MO-OM!"

Again Justin froze, as Bree's voice floated down the hall. "What is it, Andrew?" she said, stepping through the door to see the whole scene, the two boys, one still sporting the remenants of a woody, the rumpled bed. Everything. For a moment Justin saw in her eyes shock, and despair.

Then, suddenly, they glazed over, and Bree's face split into a smile. Andrew watched with an evil glint in his eyes, as he passed Justin's underwear and trousers to his mother. "Mom, I

need these washed. For a long time. So, say, if I wanted to go out and only had them with me, then I couldn't. Like I say, for a loooong time."

Bree took the clothes, and folded them up over her arm. Without even looking at her son or Justin, she focused on the desk. "Certainly Andrew. Are you doing your homework?"

What? Justin looked to Andrew confused, who giggled, and said "Actually Mum, I've just sucked off Justin, and I loved every second of it. What do you think of that?"

Bree kept smiling. "Well once you're finished, come downstairs. I've been baking cookies." And with that, she drifted out of the door.

Justin sank down onto the bed, his heart beating way too fast for his own good. Andrew crawled onto it too, putting his head on Justins shoulder and nibbling at his ear. "She keeps blocking out whatever she can't face. She's become a robot. You can do anything in front of her, and so long as it's bad enough, she just blocks it. She's gone totally loony."

Justin looked at the boy in horror. He knew as well as anybody, if not better, the problems Andrew had with his parents, especially his mother, but this...this was a boy who was taking advantage of his mothers problems. Not only that, but he was enjoying them too! He was almost too shocked to do anything, but when Andrew started to reach around him, he stood up and went to the window. Not the best idea in retrospect, considering the next door neighbours happened to have a brilliant view of the window and had looked up just in time to spot Justin in all his glory.

He backpedalled, and ran into Andrew who'd come up just behind him. After what had just happened, even the touch of the others skin was making him cringe, and the skin on his neck was trying to crawl away from his warm breath on it. Turning, he took hold of the shorter boys shoulders, and readied himself to tell Andrew just what he thought, no matter what he would say.

But just one look into the slightly concerned gorgeous brown eyes stopped him. He let Andrew lead him back to the bed and lay down, hating himself, hating Andrew, but knowing that he could never let go of the boy. His love may be possesive, but Justin knew for a fact that if they split up, it would be his heart that got broken...

Across the street and a couple of houses down, Julie sat in her kitchen handing enormous wads of tissue to a sobbing Danielle. For almost two hours now, the girl had been crying over her mother's problems, her brother's uncaringness, her father, John, then back to her mother. The cycle just went round and round, and nice as Julie was, she couldn't help yawning as the blonde went into yet another whine about her ex. She kept recalling her mother crying for about ten minutes over her father, and then getting on with her life. She was really starting to wish that Danielle would do that too.

"A-a-a-a-and then he sa-a-a-a-aid that he was breaking up with me because I wouldn't have sex with hiiiiiiiiiiiim-uhhuh-huh-huuuuuuuh!" Danielle collapsed into fresh sobs, dumping a sodden mass of paper onto the countertop. Julie silently handed her another handful, rubbing her back with one hand and clenching the other one rhythmically under the surface. She muttered something noncommital yet caring, in the hope of escaping another lecture. Unfortunately...

"That's what I said to him! And then when I said I would have sex with him, just to make him happy, he just walked off! What does that mean?"

Murmurmurmurmurmur. Don't say anything that means anything and you might get away from it...

"He has another girlfriend? How do you know this? You've seen them together? Oh, Gooooooooood-uhhuh-huh-huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!"

Dammit. She'd started to hear what she wanted to hear. Julie handed the girl another bunch of tissues, and settled down to wait...it wasn't even as if this was the first time this had happened. Far from it. Almost once a week, Danielle turned up at her door in tears, usually after some disaster like the fact that she couldn't find something 'important', like a certain sock or similar. Since her father's death, coupled with her mother's breakdown, then seasoned with John being a bastard, she'd become so fragile. Like that time when Julie's mom thought she was pregnant and started having mood swings and eating for two, despite the fact that she wasn't really. Before John, Danielle was unbreakable, untouchable, as solid as her virginity, but now...well, Julie could imagine what such a terrible time must be like, but still. Was it critical that SHE be Danielle's shoulder to cry on every time?

Then Julie felt guilty. Sure, she'd 'lost' a father, but she'd lost him in the way when she usually got to see him a couple of times every month. And if her mom and Mike got together properly, then she'd have another dad, although at the rate their relationship was going, two steps forward, three steps back, that wasn't so probable. But Danielle would never see her dad again. Her mother being a - Julie mentally apologised for using the phrase - total and utter crazy, too, severly lessened her chances of meeting someone to take Rex's place as well. Danielle was so much worse off than her, and here she was, wishing that the girl would stop bugging her. And she was supposed to be her friend?

Still, Julie thought, as the blonde spontaneously burst into another tearful rant, it would be nice to get some sleep for once...

Justin slowly climbed out of the bed. Stretching and feeling the bones crack in his back and neck, he reflected that, despite how loving/crazy-possesive Andrew might be, they had to stop trying to sleep together for a whole night in a single bed. If they did it much more, one of them would wake up hunchbacked.

Padding to the door, he opened it carefully. The slightest sound was usually enough to wake the boy still sleeping on the bed, in case it was his...mother. More and more of the puzzle as to why Andrew had changed so much recently was slotting into place, with this new discovery. Why he was willing to be seen in public being closer to Justin than would be expected, how he was able to make time for him so much now, why he was more relaxed in 'certain matters' in his home...Justin could see the benefits, but still. He shuddered as he thought of the look in Mrs Van De Kamps eyes last night. How they had gone from so full of emotion to so...empty. Just glazed and glassy. Like a dolls.

Moving into the corridor, he looked into Danielles room. The bed was unslept in, so she must have stayed the night at Julies. That was good. He'd had to employ some pretty swift manuevers the last time he'd been wandering about early in the morning and she'd suddenly appeared. It was just some quick reflexes and her early morning tiredness that had saved him. Since then, he'd been more careful, but it was good to know he only had one person to look out for. And no, he wasn't counting Andrew's mom.

He needed to get out of there. First it had been an evening spent there every now and then, then it had been a night, slipping away in the early hours, then it was an afternoon and a night, now it was afternoon, night and morning. He really didn't want to move in permanently, but Andrew almost had him held hostage. The clothes last night was the last straw. If Andrew planned for him to move in, he was going to have to ask Justin first, and he wasn't going to be strongarmed into it. He was going to find his clothes then, dry or not, he was getting out of there. If he called John from his cell phone, he could get picked up from here.

Shit! His phone! It was still on the dresser upstairs. Justin looked back, then made for the stairs. He'd have to sacrifice it for now. He'd be back in a couple of days to get it.

First stair didn't creak. Next step didn't either. Justin kept hearing what sounded to him like earsplitting noises and bumps, and at one point thought he heard a loud pounding that was threatening to wake up the entire street, let alone just the house. It turned out to be his heart. Without making a sound, the boy got all the way down the stairs, and headed for the kitchen, the undisturbed air cold on his body. Holding his shirt over one arm, he walked through to the washing machine to retrieve the rest of his clothes. Picking them out, he considered. They would be really vile to walk home in, especially in the cold. Hesitating only a moment, he flung them in the dryer and settled down to wait.

He sat down on the cold tiles, flinching a little as his naked butt hit them. Looking about the immaculate room, with the coloured coded bins for lights, darks, delicates and all the rest of them, he felt that he was an unwelcome germ in this clinical smelling room. Did Mrs Van De Kamp sterilise everything in her home once a week? He could understand Andrew's dislike of this woman who had taken her hatred of uncleanliness and made it something...scary.

But did that warrant this treatment of her? Justin didn't think so. But, then he'd never lived with her. He hadn't spent any amount of time with her which could even be defined as meeting her. Save for the unfortunate incident last night. But then, Mrs Van De Kamp hadn't been in possesion of her body then, so he didn't think it counted. What kind of a way would that be to explain to your friends how you get on with your boyfriends family? 'Yes, I met Andrew's mother once, but she was in a catatonic state brought on by shock and the recent demise of her husband, and I didn't actually register in her brain. So how's the family, Brad?'

Of course, that was assuming that they'd ever go to anything as a public couple. A big consideration.

As to Mrs Van De Kamp, there was one other thing. She'd never told him he would go to Hell for being gay.

Justin shook his head. If he ever got around to telling his family he was gay, he knew they'd be a little shocked, maybe disappointed. But to tell him he was going to Hell? No, they wouldn't do that to him. But Andrew. It had screwed Andrew up quite a bit. One day he'd been getting on pretty good with his mother, then the next he was plotting something that was either going to scar her mentally for life, or kill her. He'd asked what the matter was, and Andrew had told him, with such venom that Justin had reeled back in horror. But then, having had it just revealed to him that his love was a psychopath who was willing to go postal on his mother at the slightest provocation, Justin got drawn into it. Last night he'd realised that he was a weapon that Andrew had no qualms against using at his mother, and no matter how much he was in love, there are a couple of things that typically people can't take.

But still. He dipped his hand into a basket of Andrew's laundry, and drew out a t-shirt. He smiled. This had been the one he'd worn when they'd gone biking that warm day last week. He could still smell the fresh air and grass from the shirt, coupled with Andrew's scent. Of course, he hadn't been wearing it for the whole day. Justin blushed shyly as the smell rose the memories. That was the Andrew he loved. The athletic, fun-loving boy, who always smiled and just lived life as it came. The freedom, the adventure. Everything being new and fresh to him.

The dryer stopped turning, and Justin grinned. Pulling it open, he drew his clothes out and held them to his face. "Mmmm...warm...hehehe." He put his clothes on, the warmth delicious against his skin, made cold from the room.

Suddenly there was a noise from the living room, a quiet cough. Justin tensed, praying it wasn't Andrew, praying he wouldn't be caught making a run for it. Slowly, he crept through the kitchen, and peered round into the living room.

Mrs Van De Kamp sat there, a tissue held tight to her face. She silently shuddered, tears streaming down her cheeks and her mouth gasping quietly as she tried to muffle the sobs. Justin moved further into the room, unsure if she would register him or not. Unsure if either way it was what he wanted. "Mrs Van De Kamp? Can you hear me?"

Bree didn't make a sound, or turn her head, but seemed to nod ever so slightly. Justin stuck his hands into his pockets, and looked down at his bare feet. "I think you can hear me, I don't know. But whatever the case is, I want to say I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted anything to do with this, and I apologise for Andrew too."

The woman made the coughing, sobbing noise he'd heard once, and Justin reached forward, plucking the tissue from her hands and replacing it with a new one from the table in front of her. "Mrs Van De Kamp, I like your son, and I think he likes me. But I won't be used as a weapon against you. I'm going to go, and I'll try really hard not to come back. Again, I'm sorry."

Bree straightened slightly and opened her mouth. "Don't go..."

Justin leant in. "You can hear me? You can speak?"

She grabbed his face and rubbed at his cheek. "Oh, you have a little mark just there on your help me I need to get out I'm trapped in cheek. Just let me get my mind I keep blanking out you're the only one who knows I can't tell that for you and we'll both feel much anyone I just can't I want my life back better! There!" And she stepped back, composed and aloof, almost all trace of her crying gone and without a hint of the desperation Justin had only seen a second ago.

He looked wide eyed at the woman, confused and scared as she put her hands on her hips and judged him. "Well, I'm not sure I approve of what you're wearing, but if it's what kids are dressing in nowadays I can't complain. My Andrew, he's always wearing the baggiest jeans, and these funny tops. And Danielle! I thought I'd brought her up better than to be wearing skirts that have an above the knee hemline, but if it's what's in fashion then my kids won't hear a word against it!" She smiled, and putting a hand on Justin's arm guided him to the door. "I assume we'll be seeing you again soon, dear? Certainly. Next time I'll cook something special for you, okay?"

Justin walked through the door, and turned back to stare at Mrs Van De Kamp. She'd had control of her body for a moment back then, and now he could sense it was gone. Somehow, whether it was that he'd got through, or that she'd been able to fight through it, she'd passed a message to him. She needed his help. For some reason, she wanted HIM to help her. He squared his shoulders. "Whether you can hear me or not, Mrs Van De Kamp, I'll help you. I'll come back soon."

Momentarily, the mask slipped, and Justin saw in her eyes relief so great he couldn't help but be happy with her. Then she smiled, and her eyes glazed over again. "That's just super, dear. See you soon too!"

Justin turned away, and started walking back to the apartment. Oh, he was screwed now.