Content Warning: Chapter briefly references standard therapy violence and suicidal policies. Jon does has some off-color thoughts regarding the policy, but he is not suicidal nor is there any discussion of suicidal characters.
A/N: The therapy continues! Lois and Clark are going to be sticking around for just a little longer, but don't worry, they'll be kicked out when the real therapy begins (which is definitely happening this chapter, don't worry!) We're about to start dipping our toes into some of the deeper stuff, so I hope you enjoy.
"So here's the thing, Jonathan," Dr. Wiles said, "before we can really begin, there are a few things I need to disclose with you."
Between the forms and the discussion about expectations, Jon thought they had already begun. There was a flutter in his stomach. What was left to discuss?
Jon glanced over at his parents, who seemed to be getting more and more comfortable in their seats by the minute. At this rate, they were never leaving.
"Disclose with all of us?" Jon asked. "Or just me?"
"Both," Dr. Wiles said.
Jon sighed. So much for privacy.
"Your mother may have talked about this with you, but I want everything to be upfront," Dr. Wiles continued. "You deserve to have all the information when you're choosing to start something like therapy."
Choosing? What choice? He hadn't been given any choices.
"So let's start with the most obvious. I'm sure you realize that you're an atypical patient for me."
Jon shifted in his chair and forced out a chuckle. "What, not too many high school kids going through the DOD's multi-layer checkpoints just for some talk-therapy?"
There was the slightest hint of a smirk on Dr. Wiles' lips. "No, not really. Typically, my job mostly involves handling evaluations for the DOD. The patients I do see regularly tend to be soldiers or civilian contractors within the DOD… occasionally a civilian who has seen some pretty scary, and very classified, stuff."
Murderous aliens. Mind-controlled "Subjekts". Doppelgangers from other worlds. Stuff was definitely one way to put it. But none of that had anything to do with why he'd been sent here.
"I'm here because of X-K. Not any of that."
Mom and Dad shared a glance.
"Sweetheart," Mom said. "You've had a couple of difficult years. After everything you've gone through, it stands to reason that using something like X-Kryptonite—"
"I told you, I took X-K because of football." He had already gone over this with her. Why couldn't she just believe him? "I mean, it's basically a freaking steroid. No one takes steroids because they're having a 'difficult year'. They take it because they want to get ripped."
"Jonathan," Dad began to interject, but Dr. Wiles cut him off.
"Just because you were sent here to talk about one thing doesn't mean it needs to be the only thing we discuss," she said.
Dad stared at Dr. Wiles, his mouth still hung open. He looked like a flustered dope, not the world's greatest superhero. It would almost be funny, if everything else about this situation wasn't so horrible.
"With therapy, it's best to take a holistic approach," Dr. Wiles continued. "The point is, you can talk to me about those things. Plenty of my patients do see me for mundane, ordinary concerns—there's no rule that you have to talk about the things you've seen. But the option is there if you need it."
He didn't even want to talk about the X-K, so why would he want to talk about any of the weird shit in his life?
"Yeah, okay. Whatever," Jon said. Anything to move on from this.
"You know," Mom said, "when I saw Dr. Wiles, I never spoke to her about any DOD or Superman stuff. Just personal things. But it made me feel a little better that I could talk about that stuff if I needed too."
Mom also got to quit therapy, both times, after just one session. That didn't exactly scream endorsement. Why was she allowed to bury things while Jon was forced here against his will?
"Which brings me to my next matter," Dr. Wiles said. "There is a preexisting relationship between our families. My family has known yours for a long time. My husband and your grandfather were cadets together. And I have treated your mother in the past. Not for long, not many sessions, but I saw her as recently as last year, and we did discuss you, though briefly."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jon said. "The 'murder van' incident."
That was the second time Mom saw Dr. Wiles. After Jon had gotten stupid and tried investigating Superman shit that he had no business investigating. He had thought he was helping. Instead, he had nearly gotten killed, and he had retraumatized his mother in ways he didn't even know was possible.
He tried not to let his thoughts drift back to that day, but he could almost hear the sound of metal shutters enclosing around him, ensnaring him in a deathtrap. See the phantom red lasers of a machine gun's sight lighting up his shirt. Smell the gunpowder as a barrage of ammunition ricocheted off his father, who arrived in the nick of time to use himself as a human shield.
One second. That's how close Jon had come to being torn apart by the bullets. If Dad had arrived just one second later…
This is why it was better to keep things buried. When you bring up the past, you start to remember things—things best forgotten.
Dr. Wiles eyes' fluttered open, and she coughed. It was the first time her face had looked anything but calm and neutral. "The what?"
"Probably a better name for that," Mom said through clenched teeth. "That's… the incident I told you about. The one where Jon almost got killed, and I flipped out on him."
"In a murder van?"
Clearly Dr. Wiles didn't know all the details… What the hell had Mom talked to her about during their session then?
"It was an RV that was booby-trapped," Dad explained, using his years of experience of making the extraordinary sound mundane. "Lois was investigating someone who was a bit paranoid and Jon decided to look into the RV on his own too. Got trapped inside. We got him out unharmed. He's okay."
If weeks of nightmares was unharmed, then sure. But this all happened a long time ago. They didn't need to rehash it. He should have kept his mouth shut.
One thing was becoming clear though. As much as he hated to admit it, his parents were right when they chose a DOD therapist. It had only been a few minutes and he had already skirted too close to divulging some of the weird, classified shit from their lives.
"What kinds of booby-traps?" Dr. Wiles asked.
Jon squirmed in his seat. They weren't supposed to be talking about this. No one was ever supposed to talk about this. It happened, and they moved on.
"I don't… is any of this relevant? I mean… none of this has to do with me doing X-K."
Dr. Wiles stared at him again, as if studying his face. "You're right. We don't need to talk about this today."
She jotted something down in her notebook. The implication was clear. Maybe not today, but this was going to be brought up again. It took all of his strength not to groan.
"But to circle back to my original point," Dr. Wiles said, as she tried to regain some composure, "you may feel uncomfortable speaking with someone so familiar with your family. Ultimately, it's up to you to decide if you're comfortable or not speaking with me."
His decision? He hadn't been given a decision about any of this. Why should his choice in therapist matter? Since when did anyone care what he thought?
He sighed. "It's whatever."
"Jonathan, I'm serious. I'm only going to take you on as a patient if you're comfortable with this arrangement."
Jon glanced at his parents. They shared identical looks of concern. He could blow this all up right now if he wanted. He could say no and put an end to their little charade. But where would that put him? They'd just force him to find another therapist, and he'd just have to do this whole day over again. And that wouldn't exactly make things better at home.
Not to mention, who would the next pick be? Someone with a no nonsense attitude who wouldn't have put up with something like dumb jokes on the intake form. Someone who wouldn't have the gall to stick up for Jon against his parents. Someone who thought Jon deserved no compassion—even if they were right.
"I don't want any therapist," Jon said.
Dad huffed. "Jonathan, you know that's not an option."
"Do you want me to be honest or not?" Jon took a deep breath and tried again. "Like I was saying, I don't want to be here. But since I don't have a choice… I guess you seem alright."
Both of his parent's facial expressions relaxed and Mom even had a hint of a smile.
"But, like, you're not gonna report anything I say to my Grandpa, are you?"
The thought had only just occurred to him. Ever since Anderson going rogue had forced Grandpa out of retirement, he was back to running the DOD—that meant Dr. Wiles worked for him, right? Did that mean Grandpa was privy to everything her patients said?
Dr. Wiles shook her head. "No, no, of course not. Doctor-patient confidentiality. I wouldn't and I legally can't. The only time I'd ever have to report something you said is if you told me you were going to hurt yourself, or someone else—and that wouldn't be to your grandpa. Do you understand?"
It wasn't like he was planning on swallowing a bottle of pills or anything. He wasn't even the type of kid who really needed therapy. The school was just doing this to punish him.
"I'm not like that," Jon said.
"I just need you to understand your rights and my obligations," Dr. Wiles said. "But other than that situation, the only people who would ever have access to your medical information, without prior authorization, is you and your parents."
"My parents?" Jon's heart thumped as he glanced over at them.
Is that why they were still here? Was this never going to be private? Was Dr. Wiles just going to report everything he said to Mom and Dad? Every little infraction and misdeed? Or worse, was she going to try to make him talk about everything in front of them?
"Jon, you okay?" Dad asked.
No, he was very much not okay. But no one in the Kent household was ever allowed to keep that to themselves. He wondered what gave it away? Was it just his heartbeat, or did he show physical signs of agitation that Mom and Dr. Wiles could pick up on too.
"I'm fine," Jon lied.
For once, Dad didn't call him out on it.
"You're a juvenile, which means your parents have a right to your medical records," Dr. Wiles said. "Information like treatment plans and diagnoses."
What did that even mean? Wasn't therapy the treatment?
"However, I think we can all agree that therapy works best when the patient is afforded a reasonable expectation of privacy. I think it's only fair that the specifics of what Jonathan and I discuss in here stays between us, unless he chooses to share it with someone else. Lois, Clark, do you agree?"
Jon watched his parents' faces.
His mom was the first to answer. "Of course." She nodded and reached over, squeezing Jon's hand. "I get it and I want this to work. I'm not going to try to pry. What you talk about with Dr. Wiles is between you and her."
He felt a wave of relief come over him. While he wasn't planning on ever actually talking about anything serious with this therapist, it still felt better to know Mom wasn't going to be her usual nosy self.
Then he looked over at his father. Dad didn't look so convinced. "I'm just concerned... considering Jon's history. He hid what he was doing from us for so long, and we just had no idea. We can't go through this again. I can't be in the dark about what's happening with my son."
"Of course the guy with the history of spying on everyone in the family—" It had started off as a mindless mumble but the words were out of Jon's mouth before he could stop himself.
Dad glared while Dr. Wiles raised an eyebrow. If looks could kill... Well actually, that look could kill. Good thing Dad had more self control than Jon's mouth.
Dr. Wiles lowered her notebook without jotting anything down—of course that didn't go in the notebook—can't let perfect Clark Kent look bad, but the murder van comment had to go in—and leaned forward.
"I understand your concerns, Clark," she said, "but he's a teenager. He's going to have secrets. Sometimes secrets can even be healthy. And the scary ones, the ones you're so concerned about? Wouldn't you rather he work through them with a trusted adult? Because, let's be frank, he's here because of his drug use. He needs the ability to talk about that openly without the fear that everything he says will be reported directly back to you two. If you don't allow him to have that openness, then there's really no point to this. He'll tell me nothing, and he'll make no progress. In that case, there's no reason for you to bother making the drive."
"Clark," Mom said, "we never asked Jordan's therapist to tell us what they talked about."
"Jordan didn't—" Dad took a sharp intake of breath while Jon looked away.
Dad still didn't trust him. He probably never would again. Dad had promised things were going to get better between them, but that was clearly a lie. Maybe this was what Jon deserved. It still didn't make it hurt any less, though.
"Fine," Dad finally relented.
Jon looked up, scared to believe his ears. "Really?'
"If Dr. Wiles and your mother think... Well, your mother isn't usually wrong. But that doesn't give you permission to start hiding stuff from us again or lying. We still have the same expectations that you'll tell us the truth."
What a strange choice of words. Expectations. Surely their expectations of him were at an all-time low. No, they wanted the truth from him, but they didn't expect it.
"I told you, I'm done keeping secrets," Jon said anyway, because it really was the truth. "All I want is to earn back your trust."
Both of his parents gave him a weak smile, but all he could wonder was if they actually believed him when he promised that. How can you trust a liar's word about turning over a new leaf?
"I'd like to help with that," Dr. Wiles offered. "Rebuilding trust can take some time. If you're open to it, I can mediate some difficult conversations between you and your parents. Only once you're ready, though."
He knew what she meant by difficult conversations, but there was no way he was going to willingly talk about his drug use with his parents again, even in the presence of a professional. He needed the worst mistake of his life to be forgotten, not shoved in their faces again and again.
"Sure," Jon mumbled, anyway.
The entire time that Mom and Dad had been in Dr. Wiles's office, Jon had just wanted them to leave. They were embarrassing. They made things awkward. They made Jon feel so much worse about himself just by being there. But once they left and returned to the lobby, Jon suddenly missed the casual deflection that their presence had caused.
Now it was just him and Dr. Wiles.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans.
"You prefer Jon or Jonathan?" Dr. Wiles asked. "I heard your parents using both."
What kind of softball question was that for an opener? Still, Jon couldn't help but shrug. Why did it matter what he was called? At the end of the day, he was just a case file to her.
"Well, what do your friends call you?" she asked.
"You're not my friend." The words just tumbled right out.
To her credit, Dr. Wiles didn't look hurt.
"Sorry, that was rude."
"It's okay. You're right. We're not friends. Doesn't mean we can't be friendly, though. You can call me Wendy, if you want."
Jon shook his head. That would just be too weird. Plus, his parents always taught him you treat adults with respect. He might've been a jackass, but he was, at the very least, a respectful one.
"Jon," he settled on. "My parents reserve Jonathan for when I'm in trouble… or when they're annoyed with me… or angry… or disappointed." It sure did seem like he was being called Jonathan more and more nowadays.
"Well, you're not in trouble here. And I'm certainly not annoyed, or angry, or disappointed in you. So Jon it is."
"You'd be the first," he muttered.
She stared at him.
He winced. "Please don't dissect that."
She gave him a soft smile again. "Why don't we just start with you telling me a bit about yourself? I know you're fifteen, and in high school, and I get the feeling that you're just a little bit sarcastic—"
Jon smirked. That was a much kinder way to describe what he had done to those forms than he expected.
"—but I'm sure there's more to you than that."
Jon shrugged again. It wasn't a sincere question, anyway. She just wanted to prod into his background so she could psychoanalyze him. Why give her the material? Hadn't she gotten enough already?
"Why don't we start with your family then. Tell me about your relationship with your mom."
"I don't know. She's Lois Lane. Everyone knows who Lois Lane is."
"But not everyone knows what it's like to be Lois Lane's son. What's she like as a mother?"
His knee bounced. As messed up as things had gotten the past few weeks, he still couldn't say a word against her. She had been more than fair toward him, considering what he'd done.
"I guess I kind of always knew she was important. Famous. People would hear my mom's name and would say, 'The Lois Lane?' But to me, she was just Mom."
He tried to stop there, but Dr. Wiles kept staring. It felt like dead air on the radio. He had to fill it with something.
"I mean, I guess she was always chasing some big story, but she was still the parent who was always home. Home for the big moments. Maybe she'd miss a game once in a while, but she was there for most of them. She was usually home for dinner, you know, when she wasn't being kidnapped by some supervillain."
"Did that happen a lot?"
"Not really, but, you know, there are whole memes about it on the Internet."
He remembered the first time he saw one of those memes. He and Jordan were maybe eight and they were looking at some website that they definitely weren't supposed to be on. Jordan cried. Jon was too shocked to react, so he got blamed for it and accused of trying to upset his brother.
"But still, even if it only happened a couple of times… were you ever scared?" Dr. Wiles asked.
"Nah," Jon said, pushing aside the memory. "She always gets saved by Superman, right? Besides, by the time I realized how messed up it was, it just felt normal. I mean, she's freaking Lois Lane. That's what she does. Report the news and get kidnapped… I'm not scarred by it or anything, if that's what you're thinking."
Dr. Wiles wrote down some more notes, her face again unreadable, but she was definitely thinking he was scarred. But at least he hadn't shocked her to the same degree as the "murder van" comment.
"Do you get along with her?"
Jon picked at a loose thread on his jeans and tried to think of ways to make his life sound more mundane. "I guess so. At least, we used to."
Mom had always been the parent he was closer with. Even before Dad had started bonding with Jordan over the Kryptonian stuff, Mom had just been around more. Now Jon knew that was because Dad was off saving the world, but that didn't make the missed dinners and games hurt any less.
"She's probably dealing with, you know, everything better than most parents would. Lots of yelling, lots of lecturing, lots of grounding, but…"
But what? But it was better than the cold shoulder he had received from Dad? But didn't he deserve that too?
"…but it wasn't anything I didn't deserve. And we're moving passed it, anyway."
Dr. Wiles continued to take down notes in her book. What was so fascinating about his terrible life that she had to write it down? Did she really need to write up the details of his punishments?
Finally, the therapist put down her pen and looked back up at Jon. "And how about your dad?"
His stomach dropped. He really didn't want to talk about Dad. Things were starting to improve there too, but he doubted they'd ever return to the way things were before he got caught with X-K.
"He's really disappointed in me." Jon looked at the floor.
His father's words still echoed in his ears. You and I are gonna have a long talk about all the important things I thought you already knew, so that you don't misrepresent yourself, or this family, again.
"Why do you say that?" Dr. Wiles asked.
"Because he told me."
"When?"
Jon sighed. Therapy was exhausting. It was just question after question. "Right after I got caught with the X-K."
"That was over a month ago. How are things now?"
It may have been over a month for Jon, but Dad's trip into the Bizarro World was somehow only a day for him. Either time moved differently there, or in the portals he went through to get there. Either way, Dad had taken a shortcut. They hadn't had the same amount of time to heal the wounds between them, like with Mom. From Dad's perspective, only a few days had gone by. He still hadn't gotten over the shock that his easy son was now the difficult one.
"He says things are better," Jon said.
"Do you believe him?" Dr. Wiles asked.
Dad could look him in the eye now, so in a way, things were better. But Dad also lied straight to his face about things between them being cool again, and he yelled at him about Candice when he found out she had been his dealer. And Dad clearly still didn't trust him.
"I don't know," Jon admitted. "You didn't question me this much about my mom."
Dr. Wiles studied his face for a long moment before scribbling something else down in her notebook. "We can move on."
Great. He may have escaped the interrogation for now, but she was definitely bringing that up again later.
"You have a brother, right? Jordan? How are things with him?"
His brain short-circuited momentarily. This should have been easy to answer. Their relationship was good. Sure, they fought and bickered sometimes, but all brothers did. When things got serious, they were always there for each other. Hell, Jordan literally saved his life just the other day. Words couldn't describe how grateful he was. Proud.
Resentful.
He buried that last emotion deep down.
"Jon?"
"Things are good."
Dr. Wiles stared at him for a long second, like she was debating on calling him out on it. Except it wasn't a lie. Things were good, or as good as could be expected, considering the circumstances. Jordan had stood by him, protected him, no matter how big of a jerk Jon had turned into. He couldn't imagine having survived the past month without his brother.
Maybe he just should've said that.
"Close in age?" Dr. Wiles finally asked instead.
"We're twins—he's a couple minutes older but I'm the one who takes care of him."
At least that's how it used to be. Even if Jordan was the stronger one now, even if his brother had saved his ass more times than he could count since they moved to Smallville, Jon hadn't forgotten who was supposed to protect who.
Dr. Wiles lowered her notebook and leaned forward. "Really?"
Jon frowned as the instinct for his oldest, and longest, fight with Jordan kicked in. "A couple of minutes doesn't actually mean anything, you know. Just because he's older doesn't actually make him the 'big brother'. Besides, I'm taller." It wasn't by much, but an inch was an inch.
"I didn't mean… I was curious what you meant by 'take care of him'?" Dr. Wiles was back to giving him that soft smile, and there might have even been a hint of amusement behind it.
"Oh." Jon shrugged. "I don't know… he used to get bullied a lot, before we moved to Smallville, and I always tried to put a stop to it. People knew not to do it when I was around. Didn't stop them from picking on him when we weren't in the same classes or whatever, but everyone knew if they did it in front of me I'd kick their ass."
Only time Jon had ever gotten in trouble during middle school was for giving some asshat a blackeye for pushing Jordan in the hall. Jon got a three-day suspension and a huge lecture from Mom and Dad about how they didn't solve their problems with violence, and an "attaboy" and an ice cream from Grandpa.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like we never fight or anything. But only I get to pick on Jordan."
And once upon a time, Jordan was the only person in the world who ever dared to pick on him.
"I do other things. I talk him down when he's freaking out," Jon continued. "I make sure he remembers to eat when he takes his meds—he always forgets and then he complains to me about having an upset stomach."
"Is he sick?" Dr. Wiles asked.
Jon shook his head. "Just anxiety. People think he's weird, so they pick on him, but he's not. He's just… he's just Jordan… And people in Smallville don't even think he's weird, anyway. He's the popular one now."
"How about you? Where do you fit in Smallville?"
Jon grabbed the loose thread in his jeans again, pulling it taut.
"Jon?"
"I don't want to talk about Smallville."
He didn't want to get into all the gory details of how hellish his life had been this past month. And to be honest, it hadn't been much of a walk in the park before that. Jon had never really found his place in that town. He just didn't fit in. Sure, before the X-K stuff people used to tolerate him, they'd invite him to parties and were friendly with him, but no one was really his friend.
Sarah didn't count; she was Jordan's girlfriend—ex-girlfriend now—not his friend. Half-sisters from parallel universes didn't count either, so that left out Nat. Tegan had dumped his ass as soon as she got bored. Tag Harris had been cool, but then he went totally psycho and got himself locked up in a DOD facility. The rest of the guys on the football team had only ever hung out with him because that's what teammates did. And now they all hated him, anyway.
Of course, there was Candice, but after everything that had happened with the X-K, Jon wasn't really sure where they stood anymore, now that his parents knew the truth about her. They hadn't had a chance to talk the past couple days.
Dr. Wiles jotted something down in her notebook, but she didn't force him to talk about Smallville, so he considered it a win.
"Mind if we talk a little about the X-Kryptonite?"
Jon's stomach twisted in knots. He knew this was coming, but it didn't make this any easier. "That's why I'm here, right?"
"I'm not going to force you to talk before you're comfortable." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Does Jordan know? About your X-Kryptonite use?"
He wasn't expecting that. He thought she was going to completely 180 the conversation, not keep harping on Jordan. He almost wished she'd move on.
"He, uh, he's the one who caught me," Jon admitted. "Figured out I was using and confronted me. He's the reason I quit."
Jon stared at the floor as the memory of that night came flooding back. Jon had finally gotten the chance to start a game as QB. He thought that maybe Coach Gaines had finally seen something in him. Then he proceeded to have the best game of his life. He should've been running high on the win and the state record he had just broke, but instead he felt like shit. He hadn't earned it. It was all because of the X-K.
Then Jordan confronted him in the locker room after the game. He had figured out exactly what Jon had been up to. They argued. They fought. Jon felt a searing pain behind his eyes, like they were about to explode.
Heat vision.
Turns out X-K could do a lot more than just make you real good at football.
If Grandpa hadn't walked into the locker room right then and there and broken up their fight… Would Jon really have done it? Would he have lost control and blasted his brother? The question still haunted him all these weeks later, even after he had sobered up and the powers had faded.
Dr. Wiles flipped back and forth through the pages of her notebook, her eyebrows scrunched up. "Was this before or after you were caught at school with that bag of X-Kryptonite inhalers?"
Judgment. Distrust. The same look everyone gave him. Took her long enough.
"You don't believe me," Jon said. "You think I'm lying about being clean."
"No, I—"
"Just forget it. You're just like everyone else." Jon crossed his arms and looked away from her. He couldn't believe he had allowed himself to get tricked like this. That he had been so desperate for a little compassion that he had allowed her to play these mind games. But it was all just pretend. She was just here to judge how fit he was to stay in society.
"Jon," Dr. Wiles said, her voice steady and calm. Jon refused to look back at her. "How about you try not judging me, and I won't judge you either."
Wasn't that the whole point of therapy? To judge him and decide what was wrong with him?
"You just think I'm a junkie," Jon said while staring at the wall. "Or a drug dealer. Why would you trust anything I say?"
"Have I given you any reason to think I don't believe you? Not other people. Not your parents, or principal, or the other adults in your life. Is there anything that I have personally done to make you think I won't listen to what you have to say?"
Instead of answering, Jon sat there pouting.
"We don't have to talk about this today either, if you don't want to."
Jon's head snapped back toward her. "Really?"
"Trust goes both ways, Jon. It takes time to build. I hope that in a few weeks you'll learn you can trust me too. In the meantime, I'm not going to do anything to you that'll make you feel like you can't. You're not ready to push this boundary yet, so let's move on."
She tried asking him a bit about his life, but he was more resistant this time. Now he knew the truth. This wasn't a casual conversation. Anything he said could, and would, be turned against him at any point. He needed to be more careful.
She asked him about his friends, but there wasn't much to say. He told her a little about Nat and John Henry, and then a little about Sarah and the Cushings, just to get Dr. Wiles off his scent. If she knew he really had no friends then she'd get concerned and he couldn't have that. He told her about his job at Brit & Dunn too, not that there was much to say about a boring cashier job at a convenience store.
They even talked about Candice briefly, but Dr. Wiles backed off pretty quickly when Jon wouldn't open up, but not without taking down more notes. She was definitely suspicious about something, but at least she didn't seem to connect Candice to Jon's drug use. Jon could live with that, just as long as no one else found out the truth about her. Too many people already knew. Besides, if Dr. Wiles discovered that his girlfriend had been his dealer—that the drugs he had gotten busted with were hers—well that was definitely something that would get her concerned.
The full hour was over before Jon even realized it. It was weird. It didn't feel like his brain had been "shrunk". It just felt like a really long, really awkward interview. Either way, it was still awful, and if he had his way, he'd never come back. But as Dr. Wiles walked him to the door, she dug the knife in with the awful reminder of, "See you next week."
"We all set?" Mom asked when Jon met her in the waiting area. She had pulled out a laptop and had a mess of papers around her.
Dad was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, he just stepped out. Had to take a phone call. We'll meet him at the car."
AKA, Dad got called away for Superman duty. He wasn't coming back until it was dealt with.
Jon sighed, said goodbye to Dr. Wiles, then followed Mom out to the car. At least he didn't have to worry about Dad making awkward small talk about how therapy went on the ride home.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated! :D