simon_doctor | (no subject)

"Sure," Jacek returns. His smile doesn't even come close to reaching his eyes.

"I always have time for anyone who wants to get in touch."

Considering the barriers in place against anyone who shouldn't be able to do so, that is.

There's no smile in his eyes, and no sign of recognition. Simon's heart sinks.

I'm not wrong. I know I'm not. That's him.

"I'm pleased to see you again," he says, carefully. "I hope I'm not presuming too much on our first meeting."

"...Again?"

He stares hard through the screen, scrutinizing Simon's features -- and as he does, his eyes suddenly widen.

"Bozi tgha--"

Simon nods just slightly.

"It was fairly brief," he offers, as though to excuse the man for not recognizing him sooner. "And under rather different circumstances."

"I'll say." It's curtly said, but at the same time, something about his manner relaxes a little. I know what's going on, it says. We're on familiar ground.

"So, Dr. Tam. Let me guess. You have a little problem? Figured you'd trade on past acquaintance to get it taken care of?"

He works very hard to keep his face still.

What he doesn't say: I think that statement is accurate in every sense except the one in which you meant it.

"Not exactly," he says instead. "I'd like to talk to you about the Fremont clinic."

"The Fremont clinic," Chaiprasit repeats, watching him.

"Isn't that a little bit out of your circuit?"

"My circuit's changed a little since we last spoke, Mr. Chaiprasit." Half a beat. "As has your own, I'm given to understand."

"Looks like."

He doesn't quite smirk.

"Gone and done better for yourself back Core-ward, doctor?"

"I'm just visiting, at the moment," he says, a touch deprecating. "Though that does seem to be the popular thing to do lately."

"Nature of business to have expansions."

Jacek looks off to one side away from the screen for a moment. He shakes his head at someone or something out of pickup, then turns back to Simon.

"Shame about the clinic, but these things happen."

He doesn't sound particularly sorry.

"I don't know that happen is the right word for something that's being done deliberately and with full knowledge of the likely results."

His voice has cooled, the smallest bit.

"Or weren't you aware that the clinic doesn't have anywhere else to move to?"

"Like I said," he repeats, flatly. "It's a shame."

A beat.

"What's your interest here, Tam?"

"My interest," evenly, "is in seeing the Fremont clinic survive. And continue to provide care for people who otherwise won't have any."

Half a beat. "Which as you know has long been an interest of mine."

Chaiprasit jerks his head in a sharp nod.

"Yeah." He studies his fingernails for a second or two, then looks back up at Simon.

"Look. What you did for Stefan -- it's worth a lot, doctor. And I can't say as we don't 'preciate it. But this isn't your clinic. Get me? It's different here."

"Just how different do you think it is, Mr. Chaiprasit?"

He's almost sure he knows. Almost sure. And it's an effort to keep from starting to counter an argument that hasn't actually been made yet.

Wait.

"Don't play games with me, Tam -- it's the Core," the man snaps at him.

"One clinic more or less ain't going to make a difference."

Simon breathes out, and rests his chin against his clasped hands.

There it is.

"I know it looks that way," he says, very quietly. "It's the Core. It's a big city. It's very, very wealthy."

Beat.

"But this clinic's patients aren't. And if it closes down, a good many of them are going to have to choose between getting medical care and keeping their jobs so they can feed their kids."

Jacek stares at him in open shock before his expression hardens, closing off any sign of his thoughts.

The shock in the other man's face, brief as it is, eases the tension in his stomach the smallest bit; it isn't the skepticism he feared, and half expected.

"As I understand it," he says into the silence, "your own interest in the clinic has to do with certain, ah, unusual properties of its location."

"You're real well-informed," Chaiprasit observes. "Makes a man wonder how."

It's not a direct question. It's not a denial, either.

"What I'm wondering, personally --"

Out of sight of the screen, his hands tighten on each other.

"-- is whether another place with similar properties would serve your interests just as well."

Silence.

Several seconds pass, easily ten or more, while Jacek merely watches Simon.

Finally,

"What place might you be talking about?"

"There's a number of possibilities. A few of them are currently available for rent. Most of the others are deserted."

"...uh-huh."

Silence again, while he considers this.

"And is any one of these... places... in your opinion--"

He doesn't sneer; still, there's a heavier accent on one word than on any of the rest.

"-- to be preferred?"

Simon tilts his head. "Not as such. I don't know what your requirements are, so I could hardly make any recommendations. I'd be willing to give you the full list of potentially useful locations, though."

Beat.

"All I'm asking is that you leave this one alone."

"Out of the goodness of your heart, is that it?"

Although he's eyeing Simon closely, he doesn't sound quite as disbelieving as one might expect.

"What's in this for you, Dr. Tam?"

"Is that important?"

He meets Chaiprasit's gaze directly, and keeps his face still.

"I like to know a man's motivations when we're doing ... business."

He smiles, wide and showing all his teeth.

"I haven't asked yours." Very mild. "Ever."

"Aaaaaaah-- vores pachi, Tam. But I admit you've got a point."

Jacek weighs him for a few seconds longer, then gives a curt nod.

"Send me the locations. All of them. We'll check them out, and get back to you."

A beat.

"If you're not playing games with me, I'll see what I can do. If you are, dzveret ktrem akanjogh sarkem." He shrugs. "Nothing personal."

"Of course."

He doesn't understand the exact phrase, but he doesn't have to; the threat's clear, and no less alarming for being entirely businesslike.

"I appreciate it. Can you receive images over this line?"

"Oh yes. Complete media, even."

Chaiprasit gives him that sharklike smile again -- but this time there's amusement in it, and in his eyes as well.

His hand moves, touches a command onto the keypad.

"You should have it in a moment."

A quiet chime from the other side of the screen indicates the file's arrival. He glances down at something, then nods to Simon.

"Mr. Chaiprasit, I'd just like to make one thing clear, if I may."

Still quiet; still very calm.

"Sure, go ahead," he says, expansively. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Regardless of what you decide to do ..."

A pause, and a breath.

"I can't pose any possible threat to you or your business. Now or later. And I'm entirely aware of that."

He starts laughing, deep, full-throated laughter that doesn't stop for a little while.

"I know that. Don't worry about it. We're not."

He sobers.

"Not saying it mightn't be otherwise if I didn't already know and respect you from elsewhere, get me? But as it is..."

He breaks off there with an eloquent shrug.

It's hard to keep his face still at that laughter; for a moment he's certain he's made a horrible mistake.

Slowly the tightness in his chest eases, at the man's further words.

"All right," he says, and marvels distantly at how calm his voice is. "I appreciate that. A great deal."

He nods, and gives Simon one last sharp grin.

"Good to see you again, doctor. We'll be in touch."

The screen goes blank.

Simon rubs a hand over his forehead, wiping away sweat.

Excision of mistrust is still the hardest surgery he's ever attempted, he decides.

You got great points there, that's why I always love checking out your blog.

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