I know that technically we didn't learn about the liver disease until season 3 but he had to have known before so :-P
"Are you sleeping through the night? Do you have someone to hold you tight? Do you have someone to hang out with? Do you have someone to hug and kiss you? Hug and kiss you, Hug and kiss you? Are you alright," Lucinda Williams
I call Clark before leaving, he wasn't happy, but when I promised that both me and Dad were coming back, and that he was invited over as soon as we did, he smiled so big, I could hear it over the phone. Then he said it was okay. Fifteen minutes after I hang up the phone, the helicopter comes, just like Dad promised, and even though he's not in it, he is waiting for me when I get to the penthouse.
Two hours after that, we're laying in bed, having missed dinner, and not caring. He's holding me in his arms, and all of those tears I'd spent years and years working so hard not to shed, slowly start falling from my eyes.
"It's all right," he tells me, softly, and patting me on the head. "I've got you," he says over, and over, and over. I'm so ashamed; I don't even know why I'm crying. I don't know what's wrong with me. I must be the most pathetic creature on the planet.
"What's wrong with me?" I ask, looking up at my father, desperately. "I don't—I'm not. This isn't like me. I don't, I haven't—I don't know what's going on with me right now. I'm sorry."
"You have a sensitive heart," he whispers, and I look away. "It's not a bad thing, Lex. That's one of the things I love about you. There's nothing wrong with you."
"Are you sure?" I ask, lifting my head from his chest, and wiping my eyes. Part of me still aches a little, but for the most part, I'm feeling much better now. Dad calls down to the kitchen and orders some food to be brought up to his room, and a bottle of champagne. "Are we celebrating something?" I ask, sitting up and starting to do that tracing thing on Dad's shoulders, with my own fingers.
"Lex," my father says, after a minute of looking at me seriously. "I want you to come back and work with me at Luthorcorp, like we discussed before."
"The last time I agreed to that I ended up penniless, homeless, and begging the Kent's for shelter and to…" I stop myself before every bit of my soul pours out of my mouth. I can't stand being this emotional, this weak. "I'm sorry. I'm working on that."
"No, Lex, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting your—betraying you, and I'm sorry I made you believe that your having a conscious and your other emotions are a weakness. I was wrong in all of those things."
"What do you mean?" I ask, hardly able to believe it. Dad's been saying the same thing to me, treating me the same way for about as far back as I can remember. Does he really think he made a mistake, or is this another test. "Are you trying to trick me?"
"No, and if you think that, then I've been a lousy father to you. I always wanted for you to turn out just like me, and when you didn't, I felt as though it was your fault. I spent so much time focusing on what I thought were your faults, that I didn't stop to consider they might be strengths."
"How can my weakness be a strength?" I ask, knowing it's wrong, knowing I should just shut up and listen, but not caring. I want answers and I want them right now!
"You're sensitive, not weak, and I apologize for not recognizing the difference sooner. People like you, Lex. They trust you," he says, and ignores my laughter. "You have this charismatic side that allows you to get close to people, people who otherwise wouldn't associate themselves with a cooperation like ours."
I know I should probably be listening to what he's saying since it has to do with my career, and because he's complementing me, but all I can think of is how he just described Luthorcorp as being ours. Not his, not the company, but ours. Mine and his, his and mine, ours. It's almost as if he just said that he considers me to be equal to him. Dad's never even hinted that he might possibly consider, thinking of me as being on the same level he is. "Lex?" he asks, realizing that I'm no longer listening. My father chuckles softly, gently, but there's still a hint of that patronizing tone.
"Sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired is all," I lie, as I try to force a yawn out, but it's pointless. I'm not even remotely tired, and he knows it. Dad looks me over for a minute, trying to decide what, if anything, he should do now. He leans over, kissing me softly, and patting between my shoulder blades.
"Why don't you tell me about your morning?" he asks so causally that if I didn't know better I would have been tricked into believing that he forgot Clark and I spent the day together.
"Well, Clark came by, and we talked and then—but uh, it wasn't really that interesting." I'm trying to get just a little bit of an edge here, 'cuz I still feel pretty pathetic, despite what Dad said before. Luckily my father doesn't always have to be a complete creep and he lets me win this one.
"Did you have an opportunity to speak to him about we discussed yesterday?" Dad holds me close, speaking calmly, touching the side of my face. Then he smiles, probably because I completely suck at being subtle.
"Actually, he brought it up first. Turns out not everyone in Smallville hates us after all. Of course Clark did say that he likes me better, but I think he might be willing to—you know—I think he would be okay with it."
"I'm glad to hear that," Dad says quietly. I put my arms around his waist, and let him hold me. The two of us just lay there for a long while. It's not until around 11:00 PM that I realize things are going rather strangely. When we were talking earlier Dad described Luthorcorp as being "our" company, but he came out to Metropolis for a business meeting and didn't even offer to let me come with, and then he calls me this afternoon, even though he wasn't coming back, and invited me to home up here, but he hasn't said a word about what he was doing.
And then, after all of that, he starts telling me all the things I've been waiting to hear since I was just a little kid. My father does love me, I have no doubt about that, but everything else is completely out of character.
"Dad? What's going on?" I ask, sitting up in bed and pulling away from him a little. I would hate to think this whole thing is just an elaborate set up, but at the same time I wouldn't put it passed him. We don't really have a great history when it comes to telling each other the truth. The only good thing about this history is that I've gotten good at figuring out when I'm being lied to, especially if my father is the one who is lying to me.
"Right now, I'm trying to get to sleep," he informs me without snapping. He just uses his normal tone of voice, but I can tell he knows I'm starting to figure something out. "Why don't you go to bed, we can talk about this in the morning."
"No, no we can't, because you're hiding something from me and I can't stand that. You're treating me like some college roommate or something, only being nice to me when it gets you something. You say you wanna make me your full partner but then you come out here alone and go to all of these secret meetings, which you refuse to tell me about. I'm your son, Damnit, and I deserve to know what the Hell is going on here!"
"Lex," he grabs me by the chin, trying to make me look him in the yes, but I manage to break free, and then turn away from him. "I think you've gotten the wrong idea here, and if you would just listen to me…"
"Stop talking to me like I'm some kind of an hysterical toddler. Tell me what's going on!" I scream, angry, scared, confused, nervous. This is not right. Why is he doing this to me?
"Lex, calm down okay," my father says looking me straight in the eyes, and all I can do is nod. "You are right, I haven't been completely honest with you, but it has nothing to do with what you are worried about."
"But if it's not about—I mean, why would you be hiding something from me if—what's going on?" I finally manage to get the words out, no longer caring whether I seem like a pathetic idiot.
"Lex, I wasn't at a board meeting this morning. I was at Dr. Harrison's," he starts to explain. As I listen to him tell me about this bizarre liver condition, and how he's been going to specialist for a couple of months now, the only thing I can feel is this cold, dull ache where my heart should be. By the time he finishes, I don't know how to respond. I feel like I can't even breath, thinking and speaking are out of the question. I try, unsuccessfully for over an hour to try and make a sound, any sound, but it's no use.
"Dad?" the word comes out after what seems like an eternity. I have to do something, but what? Is there anything I can do? Is he gonna need a new liver? Would that even help? How would I go about buying one? Can I give him mine, or at least part of it anyway? Am I a match? What if I am but he won't let me give it to him? What if he will let me? Do I really wanna have unnecessary surgery that won't benefit me in anyway physically, just to help—Lionel, especially considering the way he's treated me throughout my life? What if he dies because I won't help him? "What. Are. We. Gonna. Do?"
"I don't know, Lex. I just—I don't know." I think it's the first time I've ever heard my father say anything even remotely like this. I had hoped that at least he would have a plan, or an idea, because I have absolutely nothing—well almost nothing. There are two voices going back and forth debating each other in my brain.
"Offer him your liver. He's your father Damnit; you can't just let him die. What would you do without him?"
"That's exactly what he's going to think if you start balling like a baby, and saying oh Daddy pwease don't die I need you."
"He's your father. He gave you life. Doesn't he deserve to have the favor returned?"
"Be strong. Be a man. If he needs your liver so badly, let him ask for it. Then you have all of the power. Think of what you could do with that."
"Yeah, because he's just gonna ask you to have half of one of your vital organs ripped out. He's even more stubborn than you are. You know he needs this, just offer it to him."
"Be a man. Be strong."
"Do the right thing."
"Be strong."
"Right."
"Strong."
"Right."
"Strong." SHUT UP! Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! I turn and watch Dad as he lies down, closing his eyes. I lower myself so we can snuggle, letting him wrap his arms around me, since that's what he likes.
"I should get tested," I announce, just as he's falling asleep. Dad sits upright quickly. "I mean, to see if I can give you a piece of my liver." He seems to relax a little, pulling me tighter to him.
"I can't let you do that. I can't ask you to do that. It's just as dangerous for you to donate, as it would be for me. There are other doctors, Lex, specialists. Let's see what hey have to say before we start considering other alternatives."
"But would it work? If you got anew liver, would that take care of everything? You're my father and you're sick. If I can help you then I'll do whatever it takes. Would that take care of everything?"
"If you are a match, then yes, but it doesn't make any difference. I won't let you risk your life. Not when we have other options."
"You just said that your doctor didn't know what to do, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not a little kid any more. You can't make me do anything, and you can't stop me either. Some one is going to get part of my liver, it might as well be you."
"Alright, fine, but at the very least will you get tested before you go around having parts of your body removed?" he asks, placing his hand on my stomach. Of course I say yes, but I sense that he is praying, not for me to be a match, but for me not to be. Dad doesn't want me to get hurt, let alone to actually hurt me. He wants to make it. He wants to live, but not if it could cause me pain. Not if I have to suffer for him to survive. So, what do I do now?
