I feel I should add here that I didn't dislike Jonathan and actually did like the pairing, although I did feel that he would underestimate Martha's abilities at times.

On hearing the door to her hospital room click open, Martha turned her head, watching as someone both familiar and at the same time unfamiliar to her walked in. His features were the same but softer, a deeper collection of lines had gathered around his eyes and mouth, whilst the dark hair that had once been tinged with grey was now a shock of white. His posture was just as she remembered it, especially when he was annoyed with her, stiff and unyielding, his shoulders tense. "Hi Dad," she greeted him.

His mouth creased, his lips drawing tightly together for a moment before he replied, "Martha."

"Thank you for coming."

"Given the circumstances I could hardly decline."

Martha forced herself not to react, he was no doubt angry and still upset with her and reacting to that never made it any easier. "Why don't you sit down, we have a lot to talk about."

He nodded, moving to the plastic chair next to her bed, dropping into it with a heavy sigh. "This wasn't how I wanted to hear from you again," he admitted after a moment.

"It wasn't exactly how I wanted to contact you."

William Clark made a small noise at the back of his throat, his eyes flickered over her. "How did it ever come to this?" He asked tiredly.

"We're both far too stubborn," Martha remarked. "Neither one of us wanted to admit we were at fault."

"I did try, when I discovered you had adopted the boy," he reminded her.

"Clark, we called him Clark."

He looked at her in surprise. "Not a name I expected you to pick, or at at least a name I ever thought that Jonathan would agree to."

"You always want to villify Jonathan," she sighed. " He was a good man."

"He wasn't what I wanted for you. You were made for better things than the life you ended up with."

"I was very happy with my life."

"You threw your education, your career away and he let you, all so you could be an unpaid skivvy on that farm of his."

"Dad, I didn't ask you here to bring up the past again. I should have been the bigger person when we adopted Clark and at least arranged for you to meet him. You swallowed your pride and I didn't. But that was my decision, not Jonathan's."

"Did he try to discourage you from making it?"

Martha pulled her lips together and glanced away for a moment. "No," she admitted. When she had first pondered over her Dad's letter, she had voiced her concerns about him not being able or willing to protect Clark's secret or support them in doing so, and Jonathan had been quick to agree with that concern. With hindight she should have considered her decision more, given him a chance at least and that was her fault, not Jonathan's.

Her Dad clearly didn't share that thought, he made a scoffing noise at the back of his throat. "Of course he didn't."

Feeling once more like a teenager caught in the full force of parental disapproval, Martha only just prevented herself from rolling her eyes. "Dad, I didn't bring you here to have this argument again," she replied, keeping her tone calm.

"No, of course not." He leaned forward, his forearms against his thighs. "I assume that Jonathan won't be joining us for the this conversation." He glanced at the door, adding, "Where is he anyway?"

Her eyes widening, Martha remarked in surprise, "Jonathan was killed in the twister last year."

William's face dropped, his cheeks paling and hollowing, spluttering slightly as he told her, "Martha, I didn't know. I'm sorry, I wouldn't have brought up..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," she told him, fully meaning her words. "It doesn't matter right now."

"No, of course not." He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "I just find it frustrating that you had so much promise and I felt as thought that was wasted." Tired eyes met hers. "Surely as a parent you can understand that, even if you don't agree with me."

Martha thought of her son, of all his abilities, of the promise his future held. Could she honestly say that she would be happy if he was to walk away from all of that for something she considered to be a mediocre life? No, she probably wouldn't, she admitted to herself. "I understand, but if that's what Clark chose then I would support him." She knew that to be true at least.

"I'm sure you would. I regret letting my pride stand between us for so long, I suppose I always expected you to come crawling back, to admit you had made a mistake. I never considered that you might make it work, that you truly did love him."

"I did."

He gave a small, slightly uncomfortable gruff noise of acknowledgement. His eyes trailed over the oxygen at her nose and the paleness of her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted. "What did they tell you on the phone"

"Just that you had been admitted and that you wanted me to visit, today."

Martha nodded, dreading the next few moments. "I'm glad that you got here so quickly."

"You're my daughter, no matter our disagreements if you need me then I'll be there. So how can I help? Is it money?" He asked, already reaching into his suit jacket. "Medical bills are extortionate."

She reached out, her hand on his arm, causing him to pause and look up as she told him, "It's not money Dad." His hand slowly lowered and he looked at her, his bushy white eyebrows furrowing together. Martha took a deep breath, "When Jonathan died I changed my will, what we had in place was outdated and I realised that it didn't provide for Clark in the way I wanted...needed it to. I named you as Clark's legal guardian until he turns eighteen and I need to know that you can step up to that."

William's hand moved over hers, patting it awkwardly, his tone almost blustery as he made an attempt to reassure her, "Martha of course I would, he's my Grandson after all, but it won't come to that."

"It looks like it will," she admitted heavily. "They don't know how to treat me."

"I don't understand, how can they not know?" He looked indignant. "What is it that they can't even try to treat it?"

"I've been exposed to some kind of contaminant that's attacking my lungs, they haven't seen anything like it before and nothing they're trying is working and even if it does work the damage maybe irreversible and as time goes on it will lead to the same outcome."

Everything about William sagged at her words. "Then you have my word that I will care for Clark."

Marta relaxed slightly. "The Farm will be put into trust, the majority of my life insurance will be needed to cover the cost of keeping it viable," she admitted. "The Farm has been in the Kent family for generations and it should be up to Clark, when he's old enough, to decide for himself if that's what he wants from his life."

"And no doubt it's what Jonathan would have wanted," came the irate reply.

"It is, but I don't want Clark's birthright sold out from under him either."

"Very well. I assume that Jonathan's life insurance is tied up for the same reason?"

Martha flushed, knowing the reaction her next admission was going to provoke. "Jonathan let his life insurance lapse."

Sure enough it caused her Dad to bristle. "So you pick up the slack for what he would have wanted! No doubt a common occurrence with him, I warned you at the time that he was too caught up in his ideas, that he wasn't business minded. He couldn't even ensure that you were left supported should the worst happen. What sort of man-"

"Stop!" Martha interrupted firmly. "I don't expect you to suddenly accept the choices I made, but I made them." She shook her head. "I didn't ask you here so that we can have the same old argument all over again. You didn't like or approve of Jonathan and I'll never be able to agree with your assessment of him, but I accept that it's mainly due to your disappointment that I didn't live up to what you wanted for me. Clark however won't accept criticism about his Dad, because whatever you may think of him he was a brilliant Father."

William heaved in a large breath and gave a curt nod. "I understand that." He rubbed at his forehead. "You don't have to worry about the boy's upkeep, I'll see him right, and I'll keep my thoughts to myself."

"Thank you. He'll have lost both his parents in the space of a year, and I'm worried about how he'll manage with the change. His home is Smallville, everything he knows is here."

"Then if possible we'll keep it that way until he finishes school. No point in upsetting him anymore than he already will be."

Martha could have cried from the relief of her Dad's words. "That would mean the world to me."

"Then that's what I'll do." He offered her a warm smile, squeezing her hand, and she was suddenly reminded of when she was younger and her Dad would do whatever he could to cheer her up, to make her feel better. "Now, when do I get to meet my grandson?"

"Soon. I've sent him home, I don't think he''ll be back tonight."

"Very well."

"You should go and get some rest as well."

"I can stay here with you, it's not a problem," he told her.

Part of Martha wanted to accept his offer, to have her Dad hold her hand and tell her it would all be ok, but she just couldn't do it to him. She couldn't make him sit and watch her die when he had been closed out from her life for so long. So she shook her head. "It's getting late. I'll probably try and get some sleep soon. I'll see you tomorrow," she told him, hoping it was true and fearing it was a certain lie.

He looked unsure for a moment but then nodded, getting to his feet he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "You sleep well," he told her. "And I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight Dad." She smiled at him, telling him honestly, "I know there's a lot of water under the bridge, but whatever happened in the past I do love you."

A smile broke his face. "And I love you. I only if wanted the best for you, I admit I didn't always get it right, but I'll make it up to you."

She nodded and let him leave, the guilt clawing at her, a feeling that was becoming far too familiar to her.

Lionel loathed hospitals, he hated the lingering smell of antiseptic, the odd beeps and the reminder that illness and frailty were only a small step away for most people. It didn't help that all he could remember when forced to step through their doors was losing Lillian, of the frustration of watching her fade away. He inhaled a hiss of breath from between his clenched teeth, his shoulders tight, his nerves on edge.

Despite his dislike of the environment it had still taken a concentrated effort not to rush here hours earlier. When Lex had swept out of the mansion, Lionel had wanted to follow him, to rush to Martha's bedside; it had taken all his self control to stay where he was. But he had managed it, instead arranging for one of the members of his security team to scope out the situation for him. They had reported back that she was stable and that Lex was in the process of flying in any specialist who might be deemed even slightly useful. Every so often Lex's guilt complex could prove to be of use, no doubt he was so tormented by his role in Jonathan Kent's death that he was determined to save Martha. Although for Lionel it was a small consolation when all he wanted was to be with her. Then of course there was the small fact that she might not actually want to see him, she had been clear in her anger and she hadn't faltered once in her finality of that decision. So he had stayed put for most of the day, instead prowling the mansion and barking in irritation at the staff, waitiing until the evening before finally deciding it wouldn't look too odd if he were to visit now.

As he rounded the corridor of the ward, he saw Lex arguing with two men whilst Helen Bryce stood slightly back from them, her face impassive as she listened and observed. Lionel moved closer and saw Lex acknowledge his arrival with a hard stare, remarking coldly, "Now isn't the time."

Just to irritate his son, Lionel glanced at his wrist watch and replied dryly, "I'm sure that I'm within visiting hours. Or is it that I'm interrupting something?"

The oldest man took this moment of familial disharmony to attempt an escape. "Perhaps we should allow you some time to consider the options," he stated, edging slowly backwards.

Lex whirled round, barking angrily, "Just what options are you suggesting I consider?" His eyes flickered between the two men. "You haven't given me any."

"We understand that this wasn't what you wanted to hear, Mr Luthor-"

"No, it wasn't and it wasn't why I was paying your exhorbinate consultation fees either."

The slightly younger of the two men winced. "We have looked at all possible treatments, but the simple fact of the matter is that we just don't understand enough about the contaminant and it's effects to stop its progression."

Lionel felt as though all the breath had been suddenly squeezed out of him, his chest tightening as he realised with a sickening lurch of horror that they were unable to treat Martha. It was through a slightly muffled haze that he was aware of Lex asking, "How long?"

There was silence for a long moment before Helen finally answered, her hand coming up to rest on Lex's forearm very briefly as she told him, "Should she have another sudden deterioration then it's unlikely that her body would be able to compensate."

"And when could that happen?"

"There's no way of telling, it could happen at anytime. I'm sorry, Lex."

The two specialist slowly began to back away as Lex rubbed his hand against his jaw, his voice hoarse as he remarked, "I need to find Clark." He looked at Helen. "He should be here."

Lionel watched the simpering expression on Helen's face dispassionately, there was something about her that he simply didn't trust, but now wasn't the time. He didn't have the energy to discuss with Lex his rather questionable taste in women. Helen's voice was syruppy to him, full of feeling that simply didn't ring true, although Lex seemed to be lapping it up as she told him, "I'm about to go on a break, why don't I help you look?"

"Thank you, if we split up then perhaps we'll find him that little bit quicker." Lex looked over at his Dad. "As I said, now isn't the time."

His spine straightened, he couldn't leave now, couldn't leave things the way they were between himself and Martha. "I came to pay my respects," he replied calmly. "I see no reason to change that plan."

Lex made a small noise of disgust, his lip curling. "I doubt she wants your company."

"Then she can pass that sentimnet on in person." His gaze flickered between Helen and Lex, his face an expressionless mask as he added, "Shouldn't you be getting on with finding the boy then?"

Lionel could see the conflict in Lex's eyes, knew that he wanted to argue with him, but knew that ultimately his current loyalty to the Kent's would win out. After a moment he made a scoffing noise and turned on his heel, Helen glancing once over her shoulder, back at Lionel as she followed Lex out of the ward, her heels clicking on the floor.

Steeling his shoulders, Lionel forced his mind to stop racing, to make himself think logically, although nothing could erase the tightness from his chest or the awful swooping feeling in his stomach, he had to remain calm. For Martha's sake he had to present as calm.

To say that Martha was surprised to see Lionel Luthor walk into her hospital room was an understatement, she felt her hand twitch and she had to physically stop herself from resting it against her stomach protectively. He couldn't know she told herself, he might act as though he had eyes and ears everywhere, but that couldn't be the case. She hauled herself up onto her elbows, her voice hoarse as she asked, "What are you doing here?"

He looked almost uncomfortable as he stepped forward, replying, "I came to apologize."

Martha's eyebrows raised at that statement, she never thought she'd see the day that Lionel Luthor offered an apology. "Well, this is unexpected."

Lionel couldn't help but smile at her wry tone. "For me as well," he admitted. He gestured towards the seat next to her bed. "May I?"

"I can't exactly stop you."

"I'll leave if you want me to."

Common sense told her that she should send him away, that the hours she had left shouldn't be spent playing games with Lionel, but she had to admit that she was intrigued by what he had to say. After a moment she told him, "No, you can sit down."

"Thank you." He lowered himself into the chair, leaning forward with a tired sigh, his hands folding, elbows resting on his knees. "I was sorry to hear you're unwell." His eyes met hers and she believed his sincerity as he told her, "It has made me reassess some of my previous behaviours." His mouth twitched with the effort of his next words. "I have become used to...persuading others to adapt to my way of thinking, to do what I wish them to and that's what I tried to do with you."

"I noticed."

He couldn't help but give a small, wry smile at her comment. "Needless to say it failed miserably."

"What exactly did you hope to achieve?" She asked him curiously.

"I wanted you to stay with me," he admitted. "I meant it when I said that I cared for you."

Martha felt her breath catch at his admission, and it wasn't anything to do with her illness, she simply didn't know what to make of his words. "It was an odd way of showing it," she replied after a moment.

He gave a chuckle. "It was, with hindsight I should never have tried to manipulate you."

"You shouldn't need hindsight to know that."

"No, but then I have grown used to having to do use that technique. I regret it, more than you could know." He paused, his head dropping for a moment as he struggled to push forward, reminding himself that this was his last chance to clear the air with her, that losing her was about to become final. "I should never have brought Clark into the argument."

"No, you shouldn't have." Martha knew that she was being curt with Lionel, but she didn't know how else to be right now. "I don't know why you thought that would help your cause."

"It was a bargaining chip." Cany eyes met hers. "I know that you're hiding something and I won't pretend not be intrigued." When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. "I don't want to play games, not today. You should know that given the circumstances-"

"I assume you're referring to the fact that I'm dying," she interjected, watching as he visibly flinched at her words. "No point in shying away from the facts."

"No, and I always respected that about you." He sighed before continuing, "I won't push my suspicions about Clark, after..." He couldn't say after she was gone so instead he simply added, "I want you to know that."

Martha felt herself relax slightly. She knew that many would warn her not to take Lionel at his word, but on this occassion she believed him, she had to. "There isn't anything to find, but thank you nonetheless. It's the last thing Clark would need."

Lionel gave a brief nod. "How's he holding up?"

"At the moment he's displaying his Dad's stoicism."

"I believe Lex has went to find him."

She gave a soft sigh. "It may sound terrible, but I'm glad he isn't here, I don't want him to watch this."

Lionel rubbed his hand across his face in agitation. "I know that Lex brought in specialists, but if you permit me then I could see if I could find someone else to give another opinion." His hand reached out and caught hers, squeezing it in desperation. "There has to be something they can do."

Martha shook her head. "Money can't fix this," she told him quietly. "I wish it could." She felt her grip tighten on his fingers, when he looked at her like that, as though she were all he could see, as though she meant the world to him, then she felt herself fall back under his spell. There was good in him, she wouldn't pretend that always outweighed the bad, but then she was on borrowed time, the long term didn't matter. She had missed him, at least she could be honest with herself about that. "Stay with me," she heard herself say.

He looked at her in surprise. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I don't want platitudes Lionel, and I know that's one thing you won't subject me to."

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to her skin. "No, they've never been my strong suit, not with you anyway." His gaze was almost hopeful as it met hers. "Can I take this to mean that I'm forgiven?"

"I don't want to hold grudges, not now." She considered her next words carefully. "I'm not sure what I feel for you, whether it's simply lust or if it's more than that. I don't know if I would ever have been able to trust you again after what you did and I'm not convinced that we would ever have been able to make our lives work together in something that was more than a fling, we're so very different, our lives are polar opposites."

"They are," he admitted.

"But none of that signifies now and for some reason, it's you that I want holding my hand."

"Then that's what I'll do."

The words about the baby sat on Martha's tongue, but she held them back, after all what good would it do to tell him? He would either be horrified or he would move heaven and earth to save them, only to fail. How could she put that guilt onto him? So instead she held onto to her secret, simply replying, "Thank you."