Chapter One: Dr. Kroger and Dr. Toth

Author note: This story is part of the Magical Flashpoint Side Story series. It follows "Calling on Dragons" and comes before "Nature Versus Nurture".

Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own Flashpoint, Harry Potter, Narnia, or Merlin. I also do not own Monk – a show I have actually never watched (most comedy shows get under my skin like nothing else), so. This is going to be interesting.


Dr. Toth sat down heavily at his desk, grateful no one was around to see his loss of composure. The slight hint of moisture in his eyes at the news he'd just received. For heaven's sake, a dragon attack sounded like something right out of J.R.R. Tolkien, not real life. Perhaps that absurd online game so many young people seemed to be so fond of.

Parker had been evasive as to how the rampaging dragon had been stopped – likely some sort of ridiculous stunt on his team's part – but he'd been crystal clear about one thing. The dragon had attacked Constable Scarlatti. Head on, with fire so intense that there shouldn't have been ash. Instead, the brave officer had survived by means that were, as yet, unclear. The trauma… He couldn't imagine that it would be anything other than devastating.

Therapy would be needed. Long term, with periodic follow-ups even after Scarlatti recovered. At least Lieutenant Parker was being far more sensible when it came to his men; he still refused to consider any therapy for himself with regards to his solo trek across half the continent. Whilst trapped in his gryphon animal form…

Well. As he had many times before, Larry Toth set aside his eternal frustration with Lieutenant Gregory Parker and focused on the matter at hand. A frown emerged, slowly turning thoughtful as he turned the situation over in his mind. In truth, a part of him understood why Parker was so very stubborn on the topic of therapy for events that happened in the wizarding world. It wasn't as if Parker was a stranger to therapy – according to his file, he'd had extensive counseling in rehab and sought out a therapist after some rather…intense…hot calls. His aversion to therapy had only materialized in the wake of discovering magic.

Certainly, some of that aversion was due to Parker's legal obligation to maintain the Statute of Secrecy – a factor that had very much affected his own evaluation of Team One. In truth, Larry's respect for Team One would always be partially based upon their dedication to keeping classified matters classified. He had few illusions; Commander Locksley had only read him in because magic had become impossible to hide from him. Not without removing his memories – a procedure which would've put Parker's tenure in the SRU at risk.

Sadly, none of those factors applied to this situation – and while Larry knew himself to be excellent at evaluating personnel, his methods of doing so precluded his ever being a trusted therapist. Another psychologist or psychiatrist would be needed, but even that approach was fraught with difficulties.

There were a great many doctors in his Rolodex that were fine, fine therapists. Men and women that he was proud to know and recommend – but virtually all of them would regard magic and dragons as evidence of delusion. Perhaps a particularly vivid hallucination. Constable Scarlatti would find himself diagnosed with a permanent mental disability in very short order – a true disservice to the dedicated SRU bomb and computer technician.

No, they needed someone open-minded enough to consider the possibility of magic being real. Willing to tackle the challenge of providing therapy for a situation that was unheard of, even in the wizarding world – counseling a man who'd survived dragonfire.

With a sigh to himself – perhaps Parker's aversion to therapy was not quite so foolish as he'd thought – Dr. Larry Toth pulled out his well-worn plastic Rolodex and began flipping through the cards, searching for a candidate that might possibly suit…


Several hours of intense searching found him no further along than he'd been right after Lieutenant Parker's call. Larry had even reached out to a few more promising possibilities, but as soon as they found out it was an unusual situation that he could not elaborate on until they'd committed, they politely refused.

Examining the next card in his Rolodex, Larry frowned. Dr. Charles Kroger – a very fine therapist and one who'd worked with law enforcement before. Even better, from what Toth could recall, Dr. Kroger wasn't unfamiliar with unusual therapeutic situations. Although his old friend maintained Doctor-Patient confidentiality quite superbly, some of Adrian Monk's antics were…legendary. A former detective for the San Francisco Police Department, Adrian Monk had suffered a mental breakdown after the murder of his wife and never quite recovered. What stability he did have could be largely credited to his long-suffering therapist.

A perfect candidate…were it not for the fact that he'd died of a heart attack some years ago. Larry's fingers traced the outline of the index card with real regret. He hadn't been close enough with the family to be invited to the funeral, but he'd sent a sympathy card when the news reached him and kept Dr. Kroger's number in his Rolodex as a silent memorial to a man he'd respected greatly.

About to put the index card back, the doctor stilled as a memory struck him. A letter from Dr. Kroger's son, sent in response to his sympathy card. As he recalled, it had been more of a form letter, nothing out-of-the-ordinary at all. But something about the memory was niggling at him and he wasn't getting anywhere with finding a possible therapist for Constable Scarlatti, so Larry decided to take a break and see if he could find that old letter.


Well now… Dr. Larry Toth stroked the letter, a slight gleam in his eyes as he read the words on the page again.

To Doctor Larry Toth,

Thank you for your condolences on the unexpected death of my father. I never realized he had touched so many lives and worked with so many people. My mother and I are well, although my father's death means I will have to delay my college entrance exams.

Sincerely,
Troy Kroger

P.S. Do you have any recommendations for a good college to study psychology?

He had written back, of course, naming a number of schools in both Canada and the United States that boasted excellent credentials in the field of psychology. He had even included a list of schools that offered psychology courses, but tended to be rather narrow in their outlooks, cautioning young Mr. Kroger on what the warning signs of a bad college were.

That had been the extent of their contact and Larry had no way of knowing if the young man had ended up pursuing psychology as a career, but if he had… There were no guarantees, but if the son had even a smattering of his father's talent, it might be worthwhile to reach out.


Dr. Troy Kroger sighed as he carried a bag of groceries inside his mother's home. As he stepped inside, he glanced around out of habit; still the same as it had been before his father's death. After she'd turned down his fourth suggestion, he'd finally realized she couldn't bear to change anything. He got it, he really did – or at least, he thought he did – but it wasn't good for her to dwell.

Unfortunately, it wasn't like they really had the funds for remodeling anyway. He'd graduated with honors – a shock after how many times he'd almost flunked out of high school – but they'd be paying off his student loans for the next decade. Plus he still needed a residency to round off his shiny new psychiatry license. A residency he'd been trying to find for the past four months, with no success. There were just too many new doctors and not enough residency spots.

When he walked into the kitchen, his mother was on the phone, so the young brunet shrugged and started unloading the groceries himself. There were more bags in the car, but everything in the first bag was perishable, so it needed to get into their 'fridge as quickly as possible. Once he'd gotten the bag unloaded, he headed back out to his car.

He'd gotten both other bags inside before his mother was done with her conversation, but just as he started unloading them, she looked up from her phone and beckoned him. Puzzled, he walked over, only to blink when she pushed the handset at him. "Mom?"

"It's Dr. Larry Toth, an old colleague of your father's," she explained. "He's very interested in your new degree…"

Still confused, he took the phone. "Hi, this is Troy Kroger."

"I understand congratulations are in order, Doctor Kroger."

He smiled with a mix of thrill and bemusement at his new title – Doctor Kroger was still his father, probably always would be. "Thank you, Dr. Toth." He hesitated, then ventured, "Is there something we can do for you, sir?"

After all, he did remember the man – the only guy who'd written back with college recommendations and even taken the time to point out which colleges to stay away from – but what did Dr. Toth need with a brand new, wet-behind-the-ears psychiatrist who didn't even have a residency?

There was a moment of silence from the other end of the line. Then Dr. Toth cleared his throat and said, "As it happens, Dr. Kroger, I have a rather…unusual situation on my hands. One that is quite outside the experience of most of our esteemed colleagues."

"And you think I can help? I'm just out of school, Dr. Toth. Haven't even gotten my residency yet."

Dr. Toth sighed. "Yes, Dr. Kroger, your mother made me well aware of both points."

Troy swallowed hard.

"I'm not at liberty to share the details over the phone, I'm afraid, but what I need, Dr. Kroger, is someone with an open mind. Someone flexible enough to accept an old, old axiom."

"Which is?"

The other doctor considered, then, quite softly, replied, "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Blue eyes narrowed. "So what's impossible mean?"

"Anything more must wait for a face-to-face meeting, Dr. Kroger. However…" Dr. Toth trailed off, though the younger doctor sensed he wasn't done. "A man's life is at stake, Dr. Kroger. A good man, who very much needs the kind of help we can provide."

"Why can't you help him?"

Dr. Toth sighed. "I evaluated his team a few years ago. My evaluations are thorough, Dr. Kroger, but often burn the very bridges of trust that therapy relies upon."

Oh. It was Troy's turn to consider as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, thinking through his options. "Where would this be?"

"Toronto." Dr. Toth paused, then offered, "Despite being quite unusual, Dr. Kroger, if the patient responds well to you, it would certainly fulfill the terms of your residency."

That was tempting. Very tempting, if Troy was being honest with himself. Even if it meant temporarily uprooting his life and moving to Canada. Sure he'd been hoping for a residency close to home, but beggars couldn't be choosers and those student loans weren't going to pay themselves.

"I, um," he stumbled, then closed his eyes and admitted, "I'd like to try, but I don't have enough funds for the flight."

"So long as you already have your passport, we will make the travel arrangements, Dr. Kroger," Dr. Toth reassured him. Paper rustled in the background. "Now, what is the best way of contacting you, Doctor? I still had your father's information in my Rolodex, but I'm certain you have your own cell phone and email address."


Within two hours, a new email hit his inbox. It contained a full travel itinerary – round-trip airfare, taxis to and from the airport on both ends, and a hotel in the heart of Toronto. All fully paid for, right down to standard tips. At the bottom of the email was a seal that Troy had never seen before, along with what looked like a bank name and a note from some sort of family account advisor.

The note was what put his hackles up – who were these people?

To Doctor Troy Kroger,

Please ensure that you are not tracked by an old patient of your late honored father. Adrian Monk is a fine investigator and often far too curious for his own wellbeing. Should he follow you, it is most likely that all the hard work of your good father will be undone. We have no wish to see that happen.

If he'd known his father's old friend was mixed up with people who'd threaten him, he never would've said 'yes', but it was too late now. At least he wouldn't have to actually do anything; Monk had hung around until after the funeral, but once it was over, he'd gotten himself a new psychiatrist and that had pretty much been the end of the Kroger family's interaction with the eccentric detective. Besides, it wasn't like he meant anything to Monk; he knew very well that Monk had helped him 'cause of his father and maybe to score a couple points off another patient.

So. He was off to Toronto. Better pack his parka.