Chlark Fanfic: Crisis, Chapter 40
Hi, all! :-D
So, this was supposed to have been the last chapter, but things kind of over-ran, so there will be an epilogue to follow during the week. Somehow, I don’t think y’all will mind so much. ;)
In the meantime, enjoy.
Title: Crisis
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes; this chapter PG13
Warnings: ***Angst***
Timeline: Season 2-3 (Exodus - Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer & beyond)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics
Summary: A violent encounter between Chloe and Clark threatens to destroy their friendship forever.
Feedback: …would be appreciated. :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 40
The young receptionist outside the doctor’s office put down the phone and smiled.
“You can go in now, Mr Kent,” she said.
Jonathan thanked her and made his way into the office where his old school friend Dr Adrian Weismann was seated. The doctor rose and smiled as he approached.
“Jonathan,” he greeted, and offered his hand. “Good to see you again.”
Jonathan shook the proffered hand warmly. “Good to see you too, Adrian. It’s been a while.”
“Indeed. So, what brings you here today?”
Jonathan took a deep breath. “I need a favour.”
“Please, sit,” Adrian said, gesturing to the seat opposite as he himself sat down at the desk. “How can I help?
“Some friends of mine are in a unique situation and are in need of counselling,” Jonathan replied.
The doctor frowned. “You can be honest with me, Jon. Are you and Martha having problems?”
Jonathan smiled. “I can honestly, hand on heart, say that this isn't for me and Martha.”
Adrian nodded. “Okay. So this...unique situation that your friends are dealing with; have they tried other means of resolution?” he asked. “I only ask because therapy is usually a last resort, and - I hate to have to say it - it isn't cheap.”
“My friends have gotten to a good place, but it’s on a very delicately balance,” Jonathan replied. “There's a lot of water under the bridge between them which they needs to be addressed, and sooner rather than later.”
“And can they honestly discuss these issues freely in front of a stranger?” he queried.
Not a chance, Jonathan thought inwardly.
“Of course,” he lied smoothly. “But I must emphasise that discretion is absolutely necessary in this matter.”
“That goes without saying.”
“And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d need you to personally oversee their case,” Jonathan continued. “I know psychotherapy isn’t your department, Adrian, but I really need someone I can trust.”
“Of course,” he replied. “You can rely on me for absolute confidentiality, I assure you.”
Jonathan nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Adrian.”
“Okay, let’s talk numbers. How many sessions do you suppose they'll need?”
Jonathan frowned. “Let's see...” he thought briefly. “They’ll need an immediate start…maybe, one-hourly sessions together, once a week for the next six weeks?” That way, the last of the sessions would coincide with the end of term, by which time Chloe would probably be leaving for Wisconsin to join her father.
“So two people, six straight sessions together over six weeks,” the doctor mused, scribbling on his notepad. “Even without looking at my diary, I know that the best available time for that is around four or five o’clock in the evening. Will that fit into their schedule?”
“Four o’clock would be perfect,” Jonathan replied gratefully. Right after school. “Can you give me a friendly quote for the cost? Emphasis on the friendly.”
The doctor nodded. “I hope you'll find this agreeable,” he replied, and passed the notepad across to him.
Jonathan glanced down at the figures on the sheet, and winced. Whoa.
“And this is with the discount?” he asked incredulously.
Adrian made a wry face. “Too steep?”
“I'll be honest, Adrian - when I said friendly rate, I was expecting a lot fewer zeroes than this,” he replied balefully.
“This is heavily discounted, Jon,” he responded gently. “This figure up here-” he tapped the top of the page- “…is the standard hourly rate. Now, I've taken twenty percent off that, and also given you a multipack discount, so instead of paying for six sessions, you're only billed for four. So you're effectively getting the first and last sessions for free, all at a significantly reduced rate.”
“I appreciate the discount; I really do,” Jonathan replied hesitantly.
“But you're not sure your friend's finances will be able to stretch that far,” he surmised, and sighed. “Okay, we've been friends for years, you and I, so I can knock off another twenty dollars per week; but that's as low as I can go without putting myself in the firing line with my superiors.”
“That would be a great help,” Jonathan replied. “I'll run the figures by Mar--- my friend, and see if that's something he can handle.” And by the time Gabe Sullivan's cheques for his daughter’s upkeep started coming in, he would probably be able to manage that sum, he realised.
“Good. I'll wait to hear from you, then,” Adrian replied.
Jonathan rose and extended his hand. “I'll call you later today with a decision. Thanks for all your help.”
He smiled. “Anytime.”
***
Jonathan left Adrian’s office and went down the hall towards the waiting area. Once there, he stopped and sat down, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.
He’d known psychotherapy was expensive, but even with the substantial discounts, it was still a lot of money that he didn’t really have. But that wasn’t the real problem. Price notwithstanding, he would still recommend that Chloe and Clark attend therapy sessions, but the distinctive details of the situation made it extremely difficult for them to be able to trust a stranger with the entire truth…and holding back even a fraction of what needed to be discussed would negate what they were trying to achieve. In which case, what was the justification in spending all that money for a service that they wouldn’t fully be able to appreciate?
Jonathan sighed and walked back up the hallway to Adrian’s office. He hadn’t really thought it through, but the limitations of conventional counselling were too great. There were too many variables that couldn’t be compromised, and the one thing he wasn’t ready to risk was revealing the truth about his son’s origins.
He got to the outer office and was just about to knock on the secretary’s door when he heard her answer her phone. He paused, ostensibly giving her time to complete the call.
“…I see,” she was saying. “And what is your call regarding, Mr Luthor?”
Luthor.
Jonathan’s heart turned to ice in his chest. Which one was it, and what did he want?
He gulped and listened to the one-sided conversation, trying to glean as much information as he could.
“One moment, sir…” he heard a few beeps as she pushed some buttons, then- “Mr Weismann? Mr Lionel Luthor on the phone for you…no, he didn’t want to divulge that information, sir, he said he’d only speak to you. I told him you were on another call, but he said he’d hold indefinitely…okay, putting him through now.”
Jonathan’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. What were the odds of Lionel Luthor calling Adrian Weismann mere minutes after he’d finished a consultation?
He tiptoed away from the door and walked a few steps further down the hall to where he gauged was the outer wall of Adrian’s office. A quick glance both ways ensured there was no-one else in sight; he pressed his ear against the wall and listened intently. By some stroke of luck, the phone was on speaker.
“…I’m the CEO of Luthorcorp in Metropolis,” Lionel was saying.
“I'm well aware of who you are, sir,” Adrian replied. “Are you calling for a consultation?”
“Actually, I wanted to congratulate you on your recent submission to the Medical Digest,” he heard Lionel say clearly. “You made a very compelling argument for the addition of a cardiac wing at Smallville Medical Centre; most inspiring. So inspiring, in fact, that I’d like to offer assistance in the way of funding for the facility.”
Bastard. Jonathan’s fists tightened until he shook with rage. He knew where this was going.
“Mr Luthor, that’s wonderful news,” Adrian said, clearly elated. “Your generosity is much appreciated, sir. You’re going to help save so many lives.”
“Well, I like to do what I can for the community that welcomed me with open arms,” he said with a chuckle.
On the other side of the wall Jonathan growled, wishing he could punch the evil in the face.
“I’ll send my lawyers over with the paperwork so that we can get moving on this as soon as possible,” he continued. “There is however, one small thing I’d like you to assist me with before we proceed.”
And there it was. Jonathan held his breath and pressed his ear harder to the wall, his heart beating faster and faster as he listened keenly.
“Of course, anything,” Adrian replied. “What can I do for you?”
There was a slight pause, then Lionel replied smoothly.
“I’d like to be granted unfettered access to the medical files of one of one Clark Kent.”
***
Chapter 41…
So, this was supposed to have been the last chapter, but things kind of over-ran, so there will be an epilogue to follow during the week. Somehow, I don’t think y’all will mind so much. ;)
In the meantime, enjoy.
Title: Crisis
Author: BabyDee1
Pairing: Chlark/Kaloe
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing themes; this chapter PG13
Warnings: ***Angst***
Timeline: Season 2-3 (Exodus - Exile; Clark’s RedK Summer & beyond)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics
Summary: A violent encounter between Chloe and Clark threatens to destroy their friendship forever.
Feedback: …would be appreciated. :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 40
The young receptionist outside the doctor’s office put down the phone and smiled.
“You can go in now, Mr Kent,” she said.
Jonathan thanked her and made his way into the office where his old school friend Dr Adrian Weismann was seated. The doctor rose and smiled as he approached.
“Jonathan,” he greeted, and offered his hand. “Good to see you again.”
Jonathan shook the proffered hand warmly. “Good to see you too, Adrian. It’s been a while.”
“Indeed. So, what brings you here today?”
Jonathan took a deep breath. “I need a favour.”
“Please, sit,” Adrian said, gesturing to the seat opposite as he himself sat down at the desk. “How can I help?
“Some friends of mine are in a unique situation and are in need of counselling,” Jonathan replied.
The doctor frowned. “You can be honest with me, Jon. Are you and Martha having problems?”
Jonathan smiled. “I can honestly, hand on heart, say that this isn't for me and Martha.”
Adrian nodded. “Okay. So this...unique situation that your friends are dealing with; have they tried other means of resolution?” he asked. “I only ask because therapy is usually a last resort, and - I hate to have to say it - it isn't cheap.”
“My friends have gotten to a good place, but it’s on a very delicately balance,” Jonathan replied. “There's a lot of water under the bridge between them which they needs to be addressed, and sooner rather than later.”
“And can they honestly discuss these issues freely in front of a stranger?” he queried.
Not a chance, Jonathan thought inwardly.
“Of course,” he lied smoothly. “But I must emphasise that discretion is absolutely necessary in this matter.”
“That goes without saying.”
“And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d need you to personally oversee their case,” Jonathan continued. “I know psychotherapy isn’t your department, Adrian, but I really need someone I can trust.”
“Of course,” he replied. “You can rely on me for absolute confidentiality, I assure you.”
Jonathan nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Adrian.”
“Okay, let’s talk numbers. How many sessions do you suppose they'll need?”
Jonathan frowned. “Let's see...” he thought briefly. “They’ll need an immediate start…maybe, one-hourly sessions together, once a week for the next six weeks?” That way, the last of the sessions would coincide with the end of term, by which time Chloe would probably be leaving for Wisconsin to join her father.
“So two people, six straight sessions together over six weeks,” the doctor mused, scribbling on his notepad. “Even without looking at my diary, I know that the best available time for that is around four or five o’clock in the evening. Will that fit into their schedule?”
“Four o’clock would be perfect,” Jonathan replied gratefully. Right after school. “Can you give me a friendly quote for the cost? Emphasis on the friendly.”
The doctor nodded. “I hope you'll find this agreeable,” he replied, and passed the notepad across to him.
Jonathan glanced down at the figures on the sheet, and winced. Whoa.
“And this is with the discount?” he asked incredulously.
Adrian made a wry face. “Too steep?”
“I'll be honest, Adrian - when I said friendly rate, I was expecting a lot fewer zeroes than this,” he replied balefully.
“This is heavily discounted, Jon,” he responded gently. “This figure up here-” he tapped the top of the page- “…is the standard hourly rate. Now, I've taken twenty percent off that, and also given you a multipack discount, so instead of paying for six sessions, you're only billed for four. So you're effectively getting the first and last sessions for free, all at a significantly reduced rate.”
“I appreciate the discount; I really do,” Jonathan replied hesitantly.
“But you're not sure your friend's finances will be able to stretch that far,” he surmised, and sighed. “Okay, we've been friends for years, you and I, so I can knock off another twenty dollars per week; but that's as low as I can go without putting myself in the firing line with my superiors.”
“That would be a great help,” Jonathan replied. “I'll run the figures by Mar--- my friend, and see if that's something he can handle.” And by the time Gabe Sullivan's cheques for his daughter’s upkeep started coming in, he would probably be able to manage that sum, he realised.
“Good. I'll wait to hear from you, then,” Adrian replied.
Jonathan rose and extended his hand. “I'll call you later today with a decision. Thanks for all your help.”
He smiled. “Anytime.”
***
Jonathan left Adrian’s office and went down the hall towards the waiting area. Once there, he stopped and sat down, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.
He’d known psychotherapy was expensive, but even with the substantial discounts, it was still a lot of money that he didn’t really have. But that wasn’t the real problem. Price notwithstanding, he would still recommend that Chloe and Clark attend therapy sessions, but the distinctive details of the situation made it extremely difficult for them to be able to trust a stranger with the entire truth…and holding back even a fraction of what needed to be discussed would negate what they were trying to achieve. In which case, what was the justification in spending all that money for a service that they wouldn’t fully be able to appreciate?
Jonathan sighed and walked back up the hallway to Adrian’s office. He hadn’t really thought it through, but the limitations of conventional counselling were too great. There were too many variables that couldn’t be compromised, and the one thing he wasn’t ready to risk was revealing the truth about his son’s origins.
He got to the outer office and was just about to knock on the secretary’s door when he heard her answer her phone. He paused, ostensibly giving her time to complete the call.
“…I see,” she was saying. “And what is your call regarding, Mr Luthor?”
Luthor.
Jonathan’s heart turned to ice in his chest. Which one was it, and what did he want?
He gulped and listened to the one-sided conversation, trying to glean as much information as he could.
“One moment, sir…” he heard a few beeps as she pushed some buttons, then- “Mr Weismann? Mr Lionel Luthor on the phone for you…no, he didn’t want to divulge that information, sir, he said he’d only speak to you. I told him you were on another call, but he said he’d hold indefinitely…okay, putting him through now.”
Jonathan’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. What were the odds of Lionel Luthor calling Adrian Weismann mere minutes after he’d finished a consultation?
He tiptoed away from the door and walked a few steps further down the hall to where he gauged was the outer wall of Adrian’s office. A quick glance both ways ensured there was no-one else in sight; he pressed his ear against the wall and listened intently. By some stroke of luck, the phone was on speaker.
“…I’m the CEO of Luthorcorp in Metropolis,” Lionel was saying.
“I'm well aware of who you are, sir,” Adrian replied. “Are you calling for a consultation?”
“Actually, I wanted to congratulate you on your recent submission to the Medical Digest,” he heard Lionel say clearly. “You made a very compelling argument for the addition of a cardiac wing at Smallville Medical Centre; most inspiring. So inspiring, in fact, that I’d like to offer assistance in the way of funding for the facility.”
Bastard. Jonathan’s fists tightened until he shook with rage. He knew where this was going.
“Mr Luthor, that’s wonderful news,” Adrian said, clearly elated. “Your generosity is much appreciated, sir. You’re going to help save so many lives.”
“Well, I like to do what I can for the community that welcomed me with open arms,” he said with a chuckle.
On the other side of the wall Jonathan growled, wishing he could punch the evil in the face.
“I’ll send my lawyers over with the paperwork so that we can get moving on this as soon as possible,” he continued. “There is however, one small thing I’d like you to assist me with before we proceed.”
And there it was. Jonathan held his breath and pressed his ear harder to the wall, his heart beating faster and faster as he listened keenly.
“Of course, anything,” Adrian replied. “What can I do for you?”
There was a slight pause, then Lionel replied smoothly.
“I’d like to be granted unfettered access to the medical files of one of one Clark Kent.”
***
Chapter 41…