Chapter 30 - Healing

Lex took a deep breath and stepped back into Pamela's hospital room. This was going to be a tough sell, but he had to make it—her life depended on it.

She smiled when he came into the room, a hint of laughter in her eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting down on a chair beside her bed. "Sorry about that, my friend is a little . . . impulsive."

She held out her hand. "Thank you for being here, Alexander. I know it can't be easy."

He gently took her hand in his. "I'm not the one on life support."

She smiled, though her eyes shone. "I'm ready to go. You must believe me when I say that."

"Ah . . . actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Alexander, the doctors have done everything they can do. It's only a matter of time now. I'm . . . I'm tired."

"Pamela, what do you know about the meteor shower?"

Her brow furrowed. "What about it?"

"Have you heard the theories that the meteors can alter people?"

"I—I suppose so, but I've never put much stock in . . . Alexander, what's this about?"

"I study the effects of the meteor rocks on human cells, and I've . . . accumulated some data about the effects on humans, as well. The meteors can sometimes cause people to have strange abilities, or to exhibit psychiatric disorders. They can also cause rapid cell growth."

Pamela raised her eyebrows. "Cancer."

"Yes."

She sighed. "Do you think the meteor shower caused my condition?"

"You've spent a lot of time in Smallville, haven't you? Around the meteors?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose . . ."

"Then I think there's a good chance." Lex couldn't exactly reveal why he knew for certain without revealing Clark's secret; that made it even harder to explain himself, but he would have to find a way. "My friend and I, we have some people running experiments, and we're going to try to learn how to reverse the effects."

She shook her head. "Oh, Alexander—"

"Now, it could be a long road. We're just in the beginning stages of the research, and there's a lot we don't understand. But I'm prepared to help you through it. I can get you in touch with the world's top specialists, who can keep you alive and make you comfortable in the meantime."

"No, no, I could never—"

"I would pay your medical bills, of course. And I'd be here for you, every step along the way."

Pamela stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. "Alexander, am I supposed to sit here on life support and wait for you to cure cancer?"

He clenched his teeth. "I'm not going to cure cancer. But if the meteor rocks are causing mutations, we might be able to undo them."

"Even if you do manage to find a cure for . . . whatever the meteor rock does, that doesn't mean it'll make the cancer go away."

"It might stop it from coming back."

"And it might not. And that's even if you can find a cure, and if my cancer is even caused by the meteor rocks." Her eyes fell closed, and she shook her head. "I can't handle any more false hope."

"It's—this isn't just about you. If we can take biopsies, blood samples, we could learn a lot, and we might be able to help other people as well."

"I've been through a lot, Alexander. I don't want to keep fighting."

"Then let me fight for you. I can transfer you to a room in the mansion, hire around-the-clock care for you, stop in whenever you need me, keep you company every day—"

"I don't want you to put your life on hold for me, either."

"Please." His voice cracked. "Please, Mom, I—"

Her eyes widened, and she pulled back her hand.

He gasped, and his cheeks burned with humiliation at the slip. "I'm so sorry, Pamela. I—I didn't mean—"

"No, no, it's okay." She took his hand once more, and she kissed the back of his fingers. "It's okay, sweetheart."

His eyes stung, and he blinked a few times.

"Come here," she said, slowly pushing herself to sit up a little straighter, then shifting to one side.

He sat beside her on the bed, and she wrapped an arm around him. Her head lay on his shoulder; he wrapped his arm around her as well, as gently as he could.

"You know," she said, smiling down at his hand in hers, "if you'd come in here and asked me to do this . . . for you? That would have been enough."

His heart pounded so hard, he could feel his pulse in the whites of his eyes. "Is—is that a yes?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I'll do this."

Relief and joy flooded through him. "Really?"

She looked him right in the eyes. "You need me."

"Ah, I . . ." He couldn't admit it aloud. It simply wasn't something Luthors did.

"I haven't been needed in a long time."

He snapped to, pushing through his natural inclinations. "That's not true. I never stopped needing you."

She looked over at him, right in the eyes. "And I never stopped loving you."

It was the kindest statement she could have made, but it seared in his soul, excruciating. He couldn't remember having missed his mother so much since the year he first lost her. And yet in that moment, he felt that he had a piece of her back. Pamela wasn't his mother, but she had played that role so often when he was a child, she might as well have been. And she had loved him as if he were her son. He had been convinced for years that he was unloved in a way that Clark's friendship could never quite make up for.

He didn't deserve it, could never deserve it, especially not after Julian. But Pamela knew about Julian, and she loved Lex anyway.

It filled some gaping hole in him he didn't know he had. It hurt like reopening an old infected wound to be cleaned. It was exactly what he needed, everything he needed, but it would be awhile before the kindness didn't burn. He rested his cheek in her hair.

After a little while, she straightened up and let go of his hand. "I have conditions, of course."

"Anything."

"You will not neglect your work or your friends for me."

"I won't."

"You'll let me help you in any way I can, as much as my health allows."

"Ah, okay." He shifted uncomfortably—he didn't want her to have to work, but he could also see how it might not be good for her to feel helpless and without a purpose

"You'll be honest with me about your research, no matter what the results say. The moment you realize the mutations are incurable, I want to know."

"That won't happen."

She gave him a stern look. "That's another thing. If this doesn't work—if I don't make it—"

"Don't talk like that."

"Alexander."

He flinched. "Please, Pamela."

"If I don't make it, you will not blame yourself. Do you understand me, young man?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears and and resisting the urge to pull her in tighter than her delicate frame could handle. "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay, then."

"Thank you, Pamela."

She rested her head on his shoulder again. "Thank you, Alexander."