Alternate universe where Lex can and does get sick. Now he needs somebody to take care of him. Lex/Lionel slash with brief mentions of Lex/Clark and Lionel/Jonathan as well. Takes place during season three before Shattered.

"That ain't a parachute. That ain't a rip cord. That ain't a body of water we're headed for. There's so little time left, so much to be done. Even you are gonna need someone. That ain't a trick of light, or the morning haze, coming in from the lake, getting into your eyes. It's the invisible breath, of a storm on the rise that I feel whenever you arrive. Now I may not be quick, maybe never was, but tell me what the hell it is that you've become.

Baby if you never got sick, I wouldn't get to hold you. Baby if you never got sick, I would never get to hold you," Jacob Dylan

"He's my son."

"He's my boyfriend."

"I was his first."

"I'm his most recent."

"I give him everything he needs, and anything he ever wants, whatever he asks for, anyway."

"I give him love." Lionel lowered his eyes, leading the Kent boy out into the hallway. He glared angrily and the flannel clad corn fed hick. He had never approved of Lex and Clark's relationship, and everyone knew it. Lionel Luthor and Jonathan Kent had known that their moving in together might have had this effect on the boys, but nothing could stand in the way of their 'love' or so they said.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing," Lionel shouted fuming. Clark's words had been like a slap in the face. He was about to storm off. Of course I love Lex; I have always loved him, more than you could possibly know. Then Lex's eyes fluttered open slowly, as though he were waking from a nap and not—something else.

"Dad?" the younger Luthor moaned, looking around his room. Ugly gray and pink curtain, surrounding a lumpy upright mattress with guardrails on either side, an airplane pillow under his head, a needle and tubing sticking out of the inside of his left elbow, the sound of water dripping down from above him in little droplets, rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the tile in the hall, ammonia stench and a mask over his mouth and nose, blowing fresh, clean oxygen into his lungs—I'm in a hospital, Lex thought. Shit.

Two months earlier he had begun to find it difficult climbing the stairs in the mansion. He was constantly wheezing, even Lionel had pointed it out, once. Sometimes his chest felt tight, and once in a while he felt as if he were trying to breathe with a plastic bag tied tightly over his head.

Lex knew immediately what was wrong with him, and yet he continued to ignore the problem. One day he called Toby, because at least he wouldn't tell Lionel about Lex's problem. Toby had given him a couple of inhalers, one for daily use, two for emergencies.

He started taking the medication, but hid everything, and is attacks became less frequent, more easily controlled. Lex didn't even tell Clark he was sick until he had an attack while the two of them where making love. Other than that, nobody knew, not until Lex had been at a Luthorcorp board meeting, with his father on the morning of May 26th, 2003.

One of the lower downs, a short dumpy man with a bad comb over and think glasses—Lex did not know his name—was giving a presentation, but Lex couldn't concentrate on that. He could still breathe, although not well. Lex actually felt his lungs starting to close off, and there was nothing he could do about it. His ordinary medicine was in Smallville, and one of the emergency inhalers was in a locked drawer in his office. Lex sat back in his chair, trying to take in deep breaths, trying to keep himself relaxed.

Breathe; he tried to order his body. Nothing worked. It was no use—Lex felt dizzy. The room was dizzy, and he hadn't been able to breathe normally for more than twenty minutes. Then everything went black, and he fell to the ground. Just before he passed out, he heard his father calling his name, but the voice was all wrong. It sounded kind, concerned. The next time he opened his eyes he was in the hospital.

"Dad," he called, weakly, pulling the mask off of his face, as things slowly came back into focus. His father was in the hall, right next to Clark Kent. Lionel raced to his son's side, touching the pale hand softly, patting it. He hated seeing his son sick, and in pain. He hated o think of Lex as vulnerable. At the same time, he felt a slight sense of smug satisfaction, in Lex's having picked him over Clark.

He had won after all. Lex wanting his father back couldn't have come at a better time. The past few months both of the Kents had become increasingly disinterested in the Luthors. It was only a matter of time before things ended and now he had an excuse to break up with Lionel. "You should have told me," Lionel said flatly, as he sat down, an emotionless mask washing over his face. "Or at least kept your inhaler in a place where you could get to it when it was needed. Lex you know how serious of a problem your asthma can be, why would you do something as stupid a not taking your medicine?"

"I was taking it. I just kept the inhaler in my office, where you wouldn't see it." Even at his worst Lex had a flair for sardonic comebacks. "…didn't want you to know." Of the few things Lex could say, which would bother Lionel in any way, this was the only one that could—and did—hurt him.

"You thought I'd kick you to the curb because you're not in perfect health? Lex, you had asthma for most of your childhood. You'll be fine, if you just take your medicine, nothing is going to change. I give you my word."

"Your word is about as much as—let's just say I don't exactly trust you. "Lionel took the oxygen mask from his son's hand, replacing it on his face. Lex pushed it away. "You treated me differently when I was sick. Things got slightly better after I wasn't sick anymore, but the bald thing always weirded you out, so we weren't great. It's not coming back this time, by the way."

"Lex, put the mask on, or I'll get the doctor to come in and put you in restraints," Lionel ordered, once again, pressing the mask against his son's face, this time pushing down firmly.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Lex said, into the mask, but didn't fight back. He knew he couldn't win anything in a battle with his father, and he needed the oxygen, which made this particular argument all the more futile.

"When you were little, your mother used to worry, more than she needed too, and even though she never told you that, you were a bright child, intuitive. You must have picked up on her apprehension, and in order to please her, you behaved cautiously. You allowed your fears to get the better of you, because you knew you might get hurt. I wasn't disappointed in you for having an illness, but for the way you allowed the disease to take control of your life."

Lex couldn't help but notice how his father had continently left out he issues of his hairlessness. He could also see that Clark was still standing in front of the room, looking at the floor, but once in a while lifting his eyes to check on Lex.

"Clark, you can come in now. I think my father and I are going to take a small break," Lex said, first removing and then replacing he mask, and trying the find a more comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. Just as hi father started to walk away, Lex reached out with one hand, grabbing his father's arm. "I wanna sleep at home tonight, with you," Lionel nodded, walking off to make the arrangements. Clark sat in the same chair as Lionel, but only put his body on the edge of the seat.

"Your dad told my dad that he wasn't gonna be at dinner tonight because you were here and my dad came to see me, 'cuz he thought your dad was just blowing him off, except that nobody had bothered to tell me anything. So I only even found out you were sick when my father demanded to know whether or not you were in the hospital."

"Sorry. I would have called you, but I was unconscious until about fifteen minutes ago, and I guess my father didn't consider you a priority. But, uh, Clark, I think we need to talk. I love you, I do, and we've been through a lot together, which makes this all the more difficult for me to say, but I don't think—."

"You're dumping me?"

"I'm only saying what you've been working up the courage to tell me for the past month, except you were scared too because I'm sick. We've had some good times together, and I know that you're probably never going to want to speak to me again, but if you do, I'd love it if we can still be friends." Clark nodded, and admitted to Lex that he too had been thinking it was about time for a break up, but that he still liked him, but didn't love him.

Then he walked down the hall, out of the hospital, and back to the farm house. Jonathan was there as well. He and Lionel had also agreed that it was time to end their relationship. Lionel said he needed to spend more time with Lex to, "help him readjust to his new lifestyle." He also said that Lex was going to need a lot of extra "attention," and "support," and that even if things had not been going downhill already he just didn't think he would have time for anything besides work and "taking care of Lex."

Lionel spoke to his son's doctor and convinced him it would be in everyone's best interest if Lex were to recover at the mansion, and so he was shipped back home, and placed in the bedroom in his private quarters. A nurse was set up outside his door and down the hall a little. When Lionel returned from work, he found Lex lying sprawled out in his bed, sleeping.

The older Luthor removed his own clothing pulling on a pair of dark blue and gold silk pajamas, and joined his son in the king-sized bed. This, unfortunately, did wake Lex up, but he was so happy to see his father he dint care about being woken up at all. Lex lifted his head, looked over at the clock on his bedside table, rubbing his eyes.

"Is there something wrong, Son?" Lionel asked, scooting across the bed, so that he could put his arms around the boy.

"Yeah, it's only six—and you're not only home, but in your pajamas. I feel like I've entered the Twilight Zone, or something. You're never home before 9:00 PM and I know that for a fact, because we work together. You don't like to come home early when you get a full days work done, not to mention the fact that you missed half a day when you had to take me to the hospital, because I've been happening like an idiot lately."

"You are a lot of things, Lex, but an idiot is not one of them."

"Yeah, so what would you call a person with asthma not taking their medication?" Lex asked sarcastically. Then, despite the fact that they were arguing, he accepted his father's arms around his midsection, leaning forward and placing his head and chest up against Lionel's body.

"Your behavior lately shows a great deal of carelessness, and poor planning, however, I also can understand your reasoning. I know why you did what you did. Ow, that being said, I need you to promise me something. If you have any more problems, health related or otherwise, I want you to come to me." Normally Lex would have laughed at such a suggestion. Then he would have screamed and started a huge argument, but he was tired of fighting with his father,

Lex just wanted Lionel to hold him, and to allow himself to drop the brave act. He wanted some time to be weak, without any consequences. After he had been laying there for what seemed like hours, but probably hadn't been more than twenty minutes or so, Lex sat up suddenly, staring at his father, finding himself angry, yet again.

"You never answered my question before," Lex said in an accusatory voice. Lionel looked down at his son, confused. "Why are you here? I mean, why did you come home so early? Don't you have work stuff to do? Especially since you were gone for all that time when you were—when you came to visit me. Aren't you going to be behind? How are you not worried about that?"

"Luthorcorp is my company. Other than you, no one in the world has tried to take it from me, at least not any person I wan't able to squash like a bug. As far as my workload, that's the great thing about being the boss. Your employees will down pretty much anything you ask of them. My son needs me a lot more than that paperwork ever will. So lie down, kiddo, rest, relax, and if you need anything, you tell me and I'll get it. Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry. They gave me something at the hospital—I'm not sure what it was but it knocked me out and killed my appetite," Lex explained quietly, as he sat up, reaching under the bed. He pulled out a small box like object, with a few dials on it, and a hose coming out of the side. The hose was attached to a mask on the other end.

"You need to do that again, huh?" Lionel took the machine in his hand, turning it over and over in his hands. "The first time we tried to do this for you, you cried so hard, I had to hold you in my lap with my arm around your chest, and to keep you from running away. The second day, I was sitting on the couch, reading the paper after work one night, and you walked up to me, dragging one of these things behind you. Then you climbed up into my lap, and said, "Daddy, it's time for you to hold me and give me my medicine." And that became our routine. This one time I went to China for business, and your mother had to cal me out of a meeting so I could talk you through it."

"So I was a huge brat as a kid after all, huh?"

"No, you depended on me, and I let you down. You know something, Lex; I discovered that you could read durring one of those treatments. I used to take the paper with me, when we did our treatments together and I held it up, so we could both see it together, and I held it up so we could both see the paper. One day you pulled off your mask, and asked me what the word precipitation meant. So I asked where you had heard that word, and you pointed to it on the page. After that I asked you to read me a whole paragraph, which you did perfectly."

"How old was I?"

"Three—no...Well you were almost three, it was right before your birthday third birthday. I think it was May, not June."

"That's impossible. Kids can't read at that age. Their brains aren't ready, they need to develop more. Did you ever actually do any of that or did you just make the whole story up so you'd sound like a better father.

"You read when you were three, a real newspaper, kid's books, books for high school students, anything you wanted. You are that smart, and I love that about you." Lionel turned the machine on, gently pressing the mask over Lex's mouth, holding it in place until Lex got it secured. Then the younger Luthor lay himself back down in Lionel's arms and smiled.

"Have you got the paper?" Lex asked, looking up into his father's eyes happily. Lionel nodded, slowly laying Lex down on the bed to get the paper from his briefcase, downstairs in the dining room. "No," Lex called out. "Stay with me, have someone else get it. Please?"

"You're absolutely right." Lionel sat down, placing his son back in his arms, the way they had done when Lex was a little boy. He smiled too, kissing his son's head, like he used to do. "After all how many chances do you get to hold your adult son in your arms, while he allows himself to be completely vulnerable?"

"Well," Lex told him, loving the feel of his father's heartbeat against his face, and the thumping sound of it in his ears. "I was thinking that maybe we could make this an everyday thing. You and me, taking our med-sin and reading the newspaper together."

"So you do remember, hmm?" Lionel asked, feeling like a good father, for the first time in a long time. If he could do this for Lex, maybe they had a shot at being an actual family, and then maybe they could live happily ever after, reading the paper and taking their med-sin.