by EscapeToCity

Please read and let me know what you think.


Author: EscapeToCity

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They are the property of Time Warner, DC, Millar-Gough, etc.

Spoilers for: 'Shattered'

Tell me what you think of this little piece! -JB

He just lays there the same everyday, each morning, each and every shift I am here.

I watch him, desperately trying to find a break, a spark, a chance. Anything.

"Dr. Foster, it's midnight."

I have missed another dinner date with Patrick and my feet are burning.

"That's alright, Joe. I'm staying over."

Joe's a good man. Two kids, two cats and too many twenty-hour shifts. His eyes are filled with concern for me; my weary, red, spider- webbed eyes focused too long on the glass, on my patient.

He's been here three weeks.

(Lana asked about you.)

It's against protocol but sometimes I enter the enclosure and wipe his tears away. The meds appear to be calming him but all he does is weep. No speech.

His tears make me want to scream. I've never before had a patient so trapped, so isolated. I want to reach inside Lex and find out what has made him an island unto itself. Find out why he has no love, no hope.

(I watched your chest rise up and down, down and up-- those nights you slept on my floor. I even kissed your forehead.)

In our sessions he mocked me, thrilled me, manipulated me beyond normal parameters. He's not my first difficult patient, to be sure. There have been other rather 'intriguing' ones--

"I'd like to spray you with my pretty flower."

Thank goodness that one was shackled and bound. Thank goodness I was transferred out of Arkham.

There have been many patients, some good, some bad. None has touched me the way Lex has.

It's after two now and I know my husband is worrying.

"You give too much of yourself, Claire."

I know I do and I have to because that is my job. I am here to try and help people out of a pervasive, fatal darkness of the mind. The kind of darkness that lingers and wraps around the heart, unwilling to let go.

He's stopped crying. I relax just a little. I move over to turn the light settings down a bit. The green lights were far too harsh for him. I changed them to soft lavender. He seems to like that, lying back on the soft floor and softly grinning.

I desperately need some coffee. Maybe Jolt Cola. Stuff tastes like hell, but it keeps you focused.

(I don't sleep. Can't sleep. I see your face when you saw the car hit me.)

On the way to the lounge, I pass the floodlit garden area here at Belle Reve. It's a pretty little spot, fine for visitors to take patients out into on Family Days. There's a fountain and a little row of marble columns and flowers.

(It's all my fault. The lies.)

I think about Lionel Luthor. I know he's been pulling strings, playing behind the scenes. I can't do anything about that. Corporate espionage is not my field. All I can do is diagnose based on evidence presented before me. It actually helps that he hasn't been here much since Lex was admitted.


I wish I could do more. Any ethical, moral, caring person in this field always feels they fall short of providing the 'miracle' their patient so desperately needs.

"He needs a miracle, Dr. Foster."

"We're giving him the best care possible."

"Maybe he's just too far gone, Clark."

It was rainy that day.
The boy, the teenager, the one with the kind eyes didn't like it when his blonde companion said those words. He snapped at her and she stormed out.

(Chloe can't understand.)

I watched the young man walk down the corridor, toward the garden. His eyes just drifting back and forth along the lines of glass.

He walked out into the rainy greenery and lay on the ground, under the pillars and just looked up. I thought I saw tears. I can't be sure. It was raining. He didn't look cold.

He stayed there for at least twenty minutes. I offered him a towel. He doesn't trust me. Lex had told me in session that the Kents weren't fond of hospitals. Their prerogative, of course. But I can't seem to nail anything down about this young man. He's not so much evasive as he is, well, insular.

(I want to make you better. I don't know if she's working for your Dad.)

Everything bubbling there under the skin masked with smiles and wary glances.

(I miss your sarcasm.)

What I am sure of is that he comes every Friday for at least an hour. He brings comic books and fresh fruit.

(This was a hard issue to get! Mom made these just for you.)

He gets up close against the glass of Lex's enclosure and although Lex cannot see him, Clark does not care. He holds the books up for Lex to read, he shows him the fruit; cuts it into two pieces, one for his mouth, one presumably for later--

(I miss your smell. Fresh. Anxious.)

"Clark, you sure going out there is such a good idea?"

(Please snap out of this. I miss you. I have so much to tell you.)

For Lex.

One day after a visit he left his small, jacketed journal behind. I would never betray Mr. Kent's privacy or trust but I couldn't help noticing the words 'I miss Lex' scrawled across the cover in blunt script.

"There's been no major change, Mr. Luthor."

(I don't know why but I feel broken without you.)

I hope this young man is truly a friend for my patient. I hope he helps him climb out of this tortured existence he has created. I say a prayer for Lex everyday and when I hug my husband or talk to my daughter up at school, I always let them know how much I care.

"Don't leave him alone. He has nightmares. He screams."

Maybe Lex wouldn't be here if someone had simply cared. Hugged him. Told him.

"I wish I had died in the car that day."

Sometimes I find that people have rows and rows of pain. Like lines drawn in wet concrete. Lines that firm and hold and are hard to smooth out, hard to polish.

"It never ends, Doctor. There's just another row behind that one and it's denser and I'm not strong enough."

(Try to look on the bright side.)

I will do my best to provide optimum care for my patient. But I can't do this alone.

"Clark-- I just wanted you to know I believe your visits are good for him."

"Really? I mean, I was scared I might make things worse."

"Clark's the best friend-- the only friend-- I have ever had, Dr. Foster."

(So many lies. So many barriers. So what.)

"Somehow I know that's impossible, Clark. Stand by him through this. You're more powerful than you know."

Maybe Lex won't be here forever if that young man keeps bringing apples and Warriors.

(I will break through. I will be there. I will hold you up.)

END of

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