Left-Handed Engineers From MARZ
A little bit of Christmas aftermath
"Zeeeeph'r?"

Zephyr had been dreaming one of those dreams in which he had a big secret to hide. In this one, he had no legs. His prosthetics were a couple of old, rotten twigs bound together with moldy twine, and he sat in his office hiding them under his desk, waiting for people to stop bothering him so he could make the long crawl to the men's room alone. For whatever reason, it was crucial that nobody found out he had no legs. But every time he thought the coast was clear, somebody else showed up to ask him more inane questions. Now it was Mariluz.

"Zeeeph'r, wake up."

Zephyr eased his eyes open. He really was in his office, but he was on the sofa, his legs were intact, and Mariluz was standing over him.

"Zeph'r, you were sleeping 'ere all the night?" she asked.

Zephyr groaned and sat up. His suit was rumpled and wisps of hair that had escaped from his ponytail dangled annoyingly in his face. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember where he'd put his glasses.

"Morning," he mumbled to Mariluz. "I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?"

"Almost eight o'clock," she told him.

"Gah. Is anyone else here?"

"No, I am the first one." She glanced out the office door as someone walked by. "Oh, Marsh just came."

Zephyr paused for a moment to think. "Have you seen Reg?" he asked.

"No."

He ought to go downstairs and check on Reg, he thought. First he needed to put on his shoes, which he preferred to do without an audience, and... coffee. Good excuse. "Hey, Mariluz, is there any coffee? Could you get me a cup?"

"Okay, Zeeeph'r," Mariluz said. "I will get you coffee. Anyt'ing else you want?"

"Nope." He sat forward and tried to force himself to stand up, but his legs gave way at the last moment and he ended up on the floor.

Mariluz, who had just reached the door, rushed to his side in a panic. "Zeph'r!" she cried, "Yo'allaright? Let me help you, no don't you move you want for me to get somet'ing no no jus' stay--"

"Coffee!" Zephyr spat impatiently. "Dammit, Mariluz, go make the coffee!"

She stood over him indecisively for a moment before obediently hurrying away. Zephyr slowly untangled himself and struggled to his feet. It was Zephyr the klutz all over again, he thought bitterly. Geez, you spend one holiday letting one co-worker in on a few ugly personal things, and everything you've worked so hard to leave behind just comes rushing back. He was not going to be the weak one, the sickly one, ever again, and if everyone in his life banded together to force it on him, he was going to refuse to accept it. And if he couldn't fight it, he was going to leave. And start over. Somewhere where nobody knew anything about him except what he told them, like it used to be before he started letting down his guard and trying to get all buddy-buddy with business associates.

It was a shame, though, that just when he finally got to be the boss, it all slipped away from him. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. But if his role as the weak, vulnerable one continued to be thrust upon him, he'd just continue to reject it. And run from it, if he had to. He had run from it all his life; if the running wasn't over, he'd be disappointed, but it was better than the alternative. He just... he didn't want to abandon MARZ. This was the best thing he'd been a part of since he met Reg. Marsh was already paranoid about the company failing, and dammit, Zephyr was not going to be the one who brought it down.

He found his shoes and sat back down to put them on. Now, how to go about asserting his worthiness? He couldn't just bully people around carelessly; he needed some technique. Otherwise he'd just come off as a bastard again. The best way was probably to immerse himself in his work and push his partners and employees to do the same. And not apologize for anything. Zephyr the authority: respect him or pay the consequences.

But first he had to get cleaned up; nobody would respect such a sad, rumpled mess. What he wouldn't do for a cup of coffee. Oh, and he had to find Reg and make sure he was all right.

After a quick stop in the restroom to neaten up (he could put his hair back into the ponytail, but he still needed a shave) he took the back stairs down to the workroom. His back hurt and he was out of breath by the time he got to the bottom, but Zephyr the Authority paid no attention to such trivial matters. And once he got coffee into his system, he'd even be able to think straight.

The lights in the workroom were on, but he saw no discernable movement. Reg had to be around here somewhere, he hoped... he circled around several large machines and then found Reg slumped in a chair in the far corner, fast asleep. A welding mask lay at his feet. Zephyr smiled to himself and eased Reg into a more comfortable position without waking him, and then checked the machinery in the immediate vicinity to see if anything had been left on. He found nothing, and heard no humming from any other part of the room. He checked the heating iron, just in case, but it was cold. He'd do a better job once he got his coffee and glasses and... god, he felt awful.

The elevator opened and someone who was unmistakably Connor came bouncing out. Three hundred pounds of puppylike Irishman rushed to his side, his sheer energy turning Zephyr's caffeine deficiency into a full-fledged headache.

"Hi, um, how was your vacation? Hey, are you all right?"

"Course I am. Good morning to you too," Zephyr grumbled.

"Thanks," Connor said. "Wow, it's weird to be back, you know, with a legitimate job and everything. It was so great to show up at home and tell them I'm employed. Besides my brother's new baby, that was the big news. My mother said she wants to meet you."

"Not today, I hope," Zephyr said.

Connor laughed nervously. "No, no, of course not. I don't know if she wants to travel all the way out here anyway. Hey, um, where's Reg?"

Zephyr motioned in the general direction of his sleeping partner. "He's napping. We pulled an all-nighter."

"Oh. No wonder you look exhausted. If you want to nap, too, I'm sure I can find something that needs doing until our 10:00 appointment."

Zephyr bit his lip in dismay. He hadn't realized they'd be seeing clients today, and wondered if he could cancel. First he'd have to check to see if it were in-office or out. But then, 10:00 was still two whole hours away; maybe he'd feel better by then.

"I'll be all right," he told Connor. "I just need some caffeine." And a shave and some fresh clothes and eight hours of sleep in an actual bed and for everyone to stop doting on him like he was some sort of helpless child.

Upon returning to his office with his oversized mug of steaming sweet coffee, Zephyr checked his calendar and noticed that it wasn't a client he was scheduled to see after all, but an insurance agent. That was even worse; now he'd have to go home and get fully cleaned up before ten. Maybe he could get Connor to drive him and avoid waking Reg up. "What's a first thing a blond does when he gets up in the morning?" Zephyr joked to himself. "He goes home. No, he has coffee and then goes home."

The phone rang. Zephyr hit the speakerphone button. "Hello," he said and sipped his coffee.

It was the insurance rep, who explained that she was unable to show up for her appointment and wondered if the matter could be handled by phone. How delightfully fortuitous, Zephyr thought as he agreed. Now all he'd have to worry about was bulldozing her into accepting the claim... as soon as he determined which client they were discussing.

****

Marsh was almost relieved to go back to work on Monday. He'd thought that after Christmas with the DeCastles, he'd enjoy two days straight of utter isolation. Instead, he discovered that he was lonely. Several times that weekend he had been tempted to pick up the phone and call Zephyr, maybe invite himself over or invite them to his apartment. But Zephyr had seemed so glad to be rid of him when he had dropped them off at their house on Friday. Marsh had been a little blunt about certain things, he thought. Much of what he had said on the ride home was probably better kept to himself. He was still marveling at the fact that after all these years, he finally had the nerve to ask Zephyr about his coordination problem. He had noticed it for years; Zephyr did certain everyday things in his own way. Like the way he held his coffee mug, cramming his hand into the handle loop in such a way that the mug balanced on his palm; and for that matter, how he preferred his two-handled mug over regular mugs. Or the way he closed his fingers by pushing them against his opposite palm. But Marsh had never felt comfortable inquiring about it. He'd been surprised when Zephyr had answered freely, although the answer wasn't very definitive.

Still, he regretted bringing it up. He wasn't sure if it was that or other things he'd said, but he had definitely made Zephyr uncomfortable. He should have known better than to open his mouth. He learned a long time ago never to say anything more than was necessary. Nobody ever wanted him to ask questions, even in an attempt to be interested in them. Every time he got chatty, he alienated someone. Alienating his business partner had to be the stupidest thing he could have done. It was too early to worry about how it affected the future of MARZ yet; the best he could do was to be careful not to tick Zephyr off further. Maybe he could use diplomacy to smooth things over. He just wished he knew exactly what he'd done wrong so he could avoid doing it again.

Talking too much seemed to be the root of the problem. He'd stick to business for a while and see if that made things better.

When he arrived at work, he hoped that Zephyr would be cheerful and happy to see him, but that wasn't the case. In fact, Zephyr seemed to be avoiding him. The problem was worse than he thought. This didn't mean it was going to tear the company apart... maybe he just needed to wait a little bit longer. Marsh didn't have the kind of diplomacy skills to patch up his own social faux pas, anyway. Waiting was his best option. Waiting and keeping his mouth shut.

He stopped in the break room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and retreated into the privacy of his own office. There was an impressive pile of administrative work that needed doing. He was tempted to go downstairs and build something (always a much more fulfilling activity) but first he really ought to tackle some of this paperwork. He rifled through his folders and found one task he could delegate to Oscar. That made him feel a little better.

He found a large stack that needed to be filed and started with that. Maybe it would help him focus. He started a pile of things that needed to be photocopied, another pile of things that needed to go to Shauna, and... oh no. Taxes. He was way behind on tax paperwork. Now none of the employees would get their forms until mid-January, and that was if he got everything done by this week. Marsh pushed everything else aside and set about trying to figure out what he was supposed to do.

It soon became clear that Marsh would need a concentration boost. He had done all this before, but it was still too much of a headache to complete under his own motivation. Maybe getting someone to help him was the key. Marsh dialed Shauna's extension, but she wasn't at her desk. Zephyr was really the one he should ask; if Marsh recruited his help this year, he could dump it on him next year if necessary. Oscar was an option, too, but... no, Zephyr was a better choice. But not yet. Not until they were on speaking terms again. No, it couldn't wait that long! Marsh grumbled to himself.

Marsh put a few more papers away and then got up to refill his cup of coffee. On the way back, he noticed that Zephyr's office door was open. He turned into the side hallway and peeked inside. Zephyr sat at his desk, talking to someone on the speakerphone, although from this distance Marsh could only make out Zephyr's part of the conversation.

"I'm sure you have Mrs. Jackman's records somewhere, Ma'am. I did; I filled everything out last month and sent them to you. Okay, that's fine. Okay... but, Ma'am?... no, I'll do it, but I'd rather not wait that long. Look, just send the copies, and in the meantime try to locate the originals. I know that... I also know that you have them. Yes, I did. Okay, and if you do, call me. Same number you called to reach me this time. Ask for Zephyr. Zephyr. Zee, ee, pee... no, zee as in zebra. Zephyr... like the gentle breeze. Gentle Breeze! Never mind. Zee, ee, pee, aich, why, ar. DeCastle. Dee, ee... no, you know what, just ask for Zephyr. I'm the only Zephyr here. Anytime this afternoon, most of tomorrow, Thursday or Friday. Okay, good. Thank you. Good-bye. Yah, same to you."

Zephyr punched at the buttons vigorously, muttering under his breath. "Allo, Zeeeeph'r," the phone said brightly in Mariluz's voice.

"Yeah, hello. Hey listen, if a woman calls asking for Jeffrey, connect her to me."

"Jeffarey?"

"She's... let's just say she's kind of a flake."

"Okay, Zeeeeph'r!" Mariluz laughed and hung up.

Marsh cleared his throat and waited for Zephyr to swivel his chair around to face him.

"Oh. Morning," Zephyr said, looking, Marsh noted, not obviously pleased to see him there.

Marsh considered backing off... but it was business, and how dangerous could business be? "Good morning. I need your help on something."

"Oh," said Zephyr, with maybe a hint of reluctance in his voice. "I can spare an hour or so. What do you need?"

The conference room was probably the best place to do this, Marsh thought. "Taxes. Come on."

"Taxes?" Zephyr hesitated, but then he stood up to follow Marsh. He paused to grab his coffee cup by one of the two handles, and Marsh noted that he held it balanced against his palm in that unique but oddly natural-looking way of his. "Okay," Zephyr said, "let's kick some IRS butt."

Marsh blinked at him, grinned, and swung by his office to gather the paperwork on their way to the conference room.



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