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live-laugh-loverpool · 1 year

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The Powers That Be

Summary: When Liverpool hires Jonathan Powell as their new doctor, Klopp notices something familiar about Jonathan’s only daughter.

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @lfc-fanfiction

When news came in that Jonathan Power, former FA doctor, would join Liverpool’s medical department, the staff decided to throw a small cocktail party. With all the injuries that had piled up recently, having a new doctor come in was a dream come true.

The coaching staff decorated the auditorium with red, gold and green decorations—it was getting close to Christmas, after all—and Nemmer prepared hors d'oeuvres. Everybody chipped in to prepare the drinks—non-alcoholic, of course, because nobody wanted to deal with a bunch of hangovers the following morning.

“So when’s he coming?” Chelsea asked, taking a sip from her cranberry spritz. “It better be soon, because us medics can’t handle the injury list by ourselves for much longer!”

“He arrives tomorrow.” Lijnders reached for a Lebkuchen, adding it to his mounting plate of food. “So by tomorrow, there’ll be six medics: you, Vera, Robert, Jim, Kerry and Jonathan.”

Klopp nodded in confirmation. He sneakily stole one of Lijnders’ cookies from his plate, avoiding a slap from the Dutchman. “He’s coming with his wife and daughter. I think I met him before, though.”

“You met him before? Where?” Kanchana buzzed with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The Thai woman had a low sugar tolerance, and considering how many sugar cookies had disappeared from the platter, she’d clearly overdone it. “In the park? On the beach?”

Vera shook her head, massaging her wife’s shoulders. “How many times did you head to the chocolate fountain, Chan?”

“Dunno. Four times, maybe?”

The Malagasy medic raised an eyebrow at Kanchana. “You sure you haven’t had a little too much of those margaritas, babe?”

“What margaritas? I didn’t have any margaritas,” Kanchana protested. “You know I can’t have any alcohol, dear.”

Klopp rolled his eyes at the couple. “I don’t remember where I met Jonathan, Chan. It was more than five years ago, and I think Zeljko was still here…” He trailed off, and for a moment his eyes glazed over. But then Klopp briskly nodded at nothing in particular, refilling his glass of ginger ale. “Oh, it’s nothing. Probably my old memory dreaming up stories again.”

“Your stories are true,” Lijnders argued. But it was only half-heartedly, and he hastily stuffed his face with more cookies. “Then again, we’ve all had a slip-up or two in our memory.”

Klopp nodded, but as he walked away, his scowl only grew deeper. “I’m sure I met a Jonathan before,” he muttered to himself, passing the snack table. “But where? And when? I just can’t remember the time.”

As if the radio was listening to him, Michael Jackson’s “Remember The Time” began blasting over the PA system. Klopp decided to let his thoughts go, grabbing Lijnders as the other staff filled the dance floor. There were some songs one just couldn’t resist dancing to, and this was one of them.

As promised, Jonathan arrived around noon the next day. Klopp, Lijnders and the medics met him in the Kirby foyer, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries.

“Nice to meet you all!” Jonathan was polite and pleasant, but he nervously fiddled with the buttons on his blazer. “If I may, I’d like to introduce my wife, Louella.”

A bright-eyed, curly-haired woman in an burgundy coat walked up to Klopp, shaking his hand. “Oi, glad we finally met, you old German relic. You sure you didn’t run into an aging machine? Your hair’s as gray as a raincloud.”

“I warned the mass: this team will give me gray hairs!” Klopp smiled and nodded at Louella, clasping her hand. “But yes, pleased to meet you as well.”

Louella smirked, then looked back over her shoulder. “Arwen, dear! Hurry up, we can’t stay out in the draft too long!”

Arwen. The name hit Klopp like a ton of bricks. He staggered backwards, clutching Lijnders for support.

“Arwen’s our daughter, remember?” said Jonathan, as if he could read Klopp’s mind. “I told you in our Zoom interview a few days ago.”

“Why…yes, yes you did.” Now Klopp was sure something was familiar. But whereas yesterday his mind was hyperfocused on remembering where he’d seen Jonathan, now all he could think about was Arwen. Arwen, Arwen, Arwen. Where have I heard your name before?

A sharp, cold gust of wind blew in, and promptly ended. In the place of the open doorway, there stood a young girl, around eight.

“Arwen!” Jonathan turned towards the girl, a larger than life smile stretching across his jaws. “This is Klopp and the rest of the staff. We’re finally meeting in person!”

As Arwen went from staff member to staff member, Klopp took in every detail of her. Her wavy dark hair, plaited into a single braid with green beads. Her small, bushy eyebrows, hung over clear hazel-green eyes. Her lopsided yet genuine smile, bright white except where a tooth was missing. Her chrome and black wheelchair, with an orange and green flower sticker on one handle.

She was Arwen Power. An eight-year old girl. And now Klopp was sure he had seen her before, and where.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Lila wheeled up to Klopp. She strained her neck to make eye contact, and Klopp bent slightly so it would be easier.

“Klopp, I…” A speechless Arwen shook her head, her braid flying wildly. “You’re standing right in front of me. I can’t help it, but it’s just like…damn, you’re here. Wait, that came out wrong—”

“It’s fine, I swear all the time! I’ve been trying to stop, but it’s almost impossible.” Klopp took Arwen’s extended hand and shook it. “Welcome to the family—er, I mean club.”

“No, he meant family.” Lijnders chuckled at his own joke, while Robert elbowed him.

Klopp rolled his eyes at the two’s antics, but deep inside his conscience was being eaten alive. Even though the events had happened years ago, the guilt still bothered him whenever it was triggered—like today.

“Hey, folks! Would you mind giving me a chance to talk to Louella and Jonathan alone?” He had to get this off his conscience before he went insane.

Most of the staff nodded, leaving without a fuss. Vera, who was having a good conversation with Louella, began to protest, but Lijnders took one glance at Klopp and motioned for Vera to let them talk.

“So, what do you want to talk about, boss?” said Jonathan. “The injury list? Estimated return dates? Living accommodations?”

“No, no and no. I was just wondering…” Klopp tried to make this sentence sound as nice as possible. "Can I…talk with your daughter?”

“Sure, but why?” Jonathan barely managed to hide his snickering. You’re not going to give her the Barcelona treatment, are you?”

“No, no. I’ve done enough already.” Klopp said that part with a hint of regret. “You know what happened. That day. Arwen doesn’t know the whole story.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened, while Louella whispered a faint “oh, god”.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, folks.” Klopp turned on his heel, walking towards the staircase that was the bane of his existence. “I’ve got to get this off my conscience.”

He found Arwen in the cafeteria, checking out the room. She was rather agile in wheeling her chair around, often performing the necessary maneuvers with one hand while the other was left unoccupied.

Klopp sighed, taking a seat near the pool table. Imagine if she could have both hands free and still move.

“Arwen!”

“Coming!” Arwen flashed Klopp a thumbs-up, wheeling her chair towards where he stood.

Once Arwen was right in front of him, Klopp found himself speechless. How was he supposed to tell Arwen that his mistake deprived her of the ability to walk? How would he explain that he was unable to catch her, thus letting her fall, as a baby?

Johann Cruyff, have mercy on me.

Somehow, Arwen seemed to sense the tension in the air. “You’ve got a nice training ground here, Klopp,” she said as if to break the ice. “I’m looking forward to coming here.”

“You may not look forward to it as much,” Klopp confessed, “if you knew the whole truth.”

“What whole truth?” Arwen queried. “Klopp, I know I’m adopted; Mum and Dad told me. I know you’re the Liverpool manager; you’re the only manager of this club that I remember. I know that I’m in a wheelchair because of an accident that happened when I was one. I know a lot of things.”

Klopp shook his head, not looking at Arwen directly. “You don’t know everything, though.”

“Alright. Test me.” Arwen defiantly placed her hands on her hips. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

There was no way out of this, and Klopp knew it. “We’ve met before. You were much younger than you are now…”

“Okay, go on.” Arwen flinched, but outwardly she remained calm.

Klopp nodded in silent agreement, focusing on Arwen’s flower sticker. If I just get straight to the story, maybe I can do this.

“I was trimming the garden when Zeljko and I found you in a rosebush. That was why we called you Rose at first. I know, not the most imaginative name in history. We both had a soft spot for you, and we’d often catch each other rocking you to sleep—or asleep in a rocking chair next to your bassinet.”

Arwen’s eyes widened, and the young girl flinched again. “You…you found me? You and Zeljko Buvac found me, as a baby?”

“Yeah. Anyways, the important thing is that you were extremely agile. You could walk, run and climb.” He sighed, fingering the hem of his shirtsleeves. “Too well, in fact.”

She quizzically tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘too well’? Did I do something bad?”

“No! No, not at all.” Klopp made a mental note to be careful when talking to Arwen. She was catching on—but in exactly the wrong way, blaming herself for what she didn’t even know yet. “One day when neither Zeljko or I were watching, you managed to climb out of your playpen and into a tall tree.”

“I could climb trees at one time?” Arwen echoed, and Klopp didn’t really blame her. Arwen had no memories of herself at one, so she had known herself to be disabled her whole life.

“Zeljko tried to get you from above, while I started climbing the tree from the trunk,” Klopp continued. “I desperately told you not to move, but you got so excited when you saw Zeljko coming, that you tried to pull yourself to a stand. You slipped off the branch and plummeted to the ground with a hard, loud thunk. I tried to jump and save you, but…I was too high up on the tree.”

“So I fell from the tree.”

“Yes. As soon as you landed, you didn’t just cry. You screamed and wailed, and that’s how I knew there was more than just regular pain. Zeljko took one look at you and dialed an ambulance, telling me to hold you. You were hospitalized, and the spinal damage paralyzed you from the waist down.”

“But then…” Arwen had grown quiet as the story had went on. For a brief moment, a flicker of sadness crossed Arwen’s eyes. “Why didn’t you want me? Why didn’t you keep me?”

Those last sentences in particular felt like an arrow to his heart. Drawing a breath, he answered, “I was…scared. I was scared that you would get hurt again in my care, because to be fair, I’m pretty clumsy. What if I hurt you again? So I put you up for adoption, and Jonathan and Louella adopted you.”

Klopp leant against the pool table for support. He felt slightly dizzy and drained, and his conscience felt strangely…heavier. Wasn’t this supposed to ease the guilt? “Arwen, I’m so sorry. You can’t walk, because I couldn’t catch you when you fell from the tree.”

“I…I don’t blame you,” said Arwen. “I always thought it was my birth parents who had me before Mom and Dad. I always thought they didn’t want me because I’m in a wheelchair. But now that you told me the real reason…I think I can forgive you.”

“But you never even knew that I was part of your life until now,” Klopp argued. “And now you can’t walk!”

“The fact that you tried to catch me, and then made sure I was safe afterwards, was enough. If anything, it was my fault as well for climbing the tree.” Arwen came even closer to Klopp, grin as lopsided as before. “So basically, we’re even. There’s no need to feel guilty about it.”

“That’s…” Klopp still reeled with shock. She’d forgave him! After all those years of locked-away guilt and wondering, Arwen had forgave him. “Thank you, Arwen. That’s very generous and mature of you. Your parents raised you well.”

“What do you think? You made a good choice.” Arwen raised her hands to the sky, eyes alight once more. “Let’s hug.”

Klopp wasted no time at all, engulfing Arwen in a mammoth embrace. “That’s what I was going to say!”