Chapter 43 - Memories

Lex had a driver take him to the hospital in Metropolis. He was going to drive himself, but Pamela insisted he was in no state to drive. She offered to come with him to serve as emotional support, and so did Clark, but Lex politely declined both of their offers. This was something he had to face on his own.

The three hour drive over was both too long and far too short at the same time. Lex alternated between staring out of the window and at his hands, between taking deep breaths and shallow, panicked ones. Had he believed there was any chance driver could see him, he never would have allowed himself even that much.

He didn't stop by the front desk when he arrived. He'd come by to visit his father enough times over the past few weeks, if only to keep up appearances, to know exactly where the room was. And he was recognizable enough—no one dared to stop him.

It took a moment for Lex to steel himself before he could enter the room.

His father lay on his back, propped up on a couple of pillows. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't quite as dead and limp as he had been the last few times Lex had visited. There was a little more color in his cheeks, and his breathing was a little deeper and less even.

Lex took a quiet step into the room and cleared his throat.

His father stirred, his eyes fluttering open before falling on Lex. He blinked a few times, eyes widening, and he pushed himself to sit up. "You're . . . you're Lex."

Lex's jaw clenched. It was almost as if his father hadn't recognized him at first

"My Lex."

Lex frowned. He hadn't seen his father look at him like that since . . . well, since Julian was alive. What kind of a game was this?

"How long has it been?"

"Ah, a few weeks?"

"A few weeks? No, no no. You must be . . . twenty-two? They told me it was 2002."

Lex cleared his throat, fighting the urge to step back. " . . . Dad?"

"Come here." His father shifted himself to sit up straighter and reached out his hands. "Let me look at you, son."

Lex stood stiff. It was an act. It had to be an act. But if this was an act, it was a very good one. Lex had had years of practice identifying when his father was acting; this wasn't it.

His father's smile faded. "Lex?"

Lex swallowed hard. Refusing to play along with the game could be deadly. It was best if Lex let his father believe he bought it, at least at first. Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

His father reached up his hands to gently cradle Lex's face.

It took everything he had not to flinch away; his muscles tightened and he looked away, but when he glanced at his father's face for a moment, he couldn't pull his eyes away.

Tears streamed from his father's eyes. "My son," he whispered, his voice cracking. "My son!"

Lex felt like his heart was sinking into his stomach. If his father really had forgotten everything . . .

No. It couldn't be. His father couldn't have simply lost years' worth of memories. That would mean Lex would be getting off scot-free for refusing to save his life. As much as Lex wanted to believe it, nothing had ever worked out so easily for him. Not for as long as he had lived.

His father's thumb stroked his cheek before pulling him in for an embrace. Guilt and shame flooded through his veins. It was a real hug, the first real hug he'd had from his father since before his brother had passed. And his father would never be treating him like this if he knew what Lex had done.

But maybe, maybe . . . Lex had a fresh start. Because this embrace whispered something Lex couldn't ever remember hearing from his father.

You're my son.

I am proud to call you mine.

I love you.

Lex hugged back. He couldn't help it. He gripped tighter than he had in years, as if he couldn't get enough, his eyes stinging. "Dad," he whispered. "You're okay."

His father squeezed tighter for a long moment before he let go, holding him at arms length by the shoulders. He lifted one hand to the side of Lex's head, his fingers just barely brushing the smooth skin. "You, ah, grew into it. You look good, son."

Lex couldn't help but flinch a little at the touch, but he gave a slight smile.

His father let out a laugh—not a laugh of humor, but one of joy and relief. "Tell me everything, son."

He had no idea where to even start. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well, it's hard to put a finger on the last moment. But . . . you were ten, Lex."

Ten. That was after the meteor shower—no wonder the baldness hadn't come as a surprise—but before his mother's pregnancy with Julian.

Lex couldn't tell his father anything that someone else would later contradict; nor could he tell him anything that wouldn't be believable. No family was without its share of conflict and heartache, and Lex's father hadn't made a sudden transition from soft to cold when Julian died. He'd been pretty hard on Lex before then. Of course, when Lex was young, it was easier to convince himself his father just wanted him to be strong. After Julian's death, his mother stopped trying to convince him his father really loved him. Before it, Lex could usually make himself believe her.

Looking at his father's eyes, still reveling in the strength and sincerity of that embrace, he could almost believe it now. The last thing he wanted to do was to lose it. Telling the full truth would do that. Telling too many lies would have the same effect.

He took a deep breath. "You and I butted heads in my teenage years, especially after Mom . . ."

"They told me about your mother," his father said, his eyes shining once again.

"Did they tell you about Julian?"

"Julian?"

Lex felt his throat tighten. "My brother. He . . . died of SIDS." That was the official story; it would match with anyone's version of events who was still alive. Pamela was the only person alive who knew the truth, other than Lex, and he was sure she wouldn't rat him out.

A flicker of sadness passed over his father's face, but there was no real deep emotion. His father had never known Julian; he wouldn't need to grieve him in the same way he would grieve his wife, or even the years he'd lost with his older son. "Tell me about you, Lex."

Lex didn't know where to start. "Well, up until a few weeks ago, I managed a plant under LuthorCorp. Since you went into your coma, I've taken the reins as interim CEO until you could get back up on your feet. I look forward to giving you a full report when you're up to it. It's going well."

His father just shook his head throughout the whole speech. "I am—" his voice cracked— "so proud of you, son."

Lex's eyes filled with tears. There was nothing he could do to stop them.

"What about—you? Do you have a . . . special someone?"

"No. Not yet."

"Anyone you fancy?"

"Not right now."

"Friends?"

"Yes. A few." Lex's muscles tightened yet again. He didn't want Clark getting involved with his father, no matter how much things had changed between them. He still couldn't trust him, not quite.

"And . . . you and me? What kind of a father was I?"

Lex was careful with his words. "We . . . fought. A lot. We weren't close, exactly. But . . . we respected each other. You made me stronger, and deep down, I was grateful to you." Lying through his teeth, but he didn't really have a choice.

A light knock came at the door of the hospital room, and the doctor stood just outside with clipboard under her arm. "Mr. Luthor? A word?"

Lex stood to allow her to speak to his father, but then he looked up at her—she was looking at him. "Oh. Of course." He spared his father one last glance and left the room.

Out in the hallway, she looked down at her clipboard and then back up at him. "As you may have noticed, there were some complications when he woke from his coma."

Lex firmed his gaze, forcing himself to show none of the emotion he had shown earlier. "How bad is the damage?"

"Well, he's paralyzed from the waist down."

"The brain damage, Doctor."

The doctor nodded. "We're still waiting on some of the scans, but according to the reports we have so far, it looks to be equivalent to about ten years' worth of memory loss. Maybe more."

"Twelve, by his reports," Lex said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Respectfully, Mr. Luthor, you didn't let me. As soon as I told you your father wanted to see you, you hung up. And you didn't stop by the front before coming in."

Lex nodded. "Thank you for looking after him." It was the first time he'd said it sincerely.

"We'll continue to do what we can."

He blinked. "Are there any other complications?"

"The paralysis might be permanent—it's too soon to stay—but we believe the brain damage will heal."

Lex felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

"He should begin to remember more and more over time. It will likely begin with his earlier memories. With treatment, I believe he'll come to remember everything up to the moment of the accident."

"And without treatment?" Lex's mouth felt dry.

"The recovery will be slower and much more painful. He may never regain the ability to walk."

"But he'll still regain his memories."

"Yes." She frowned. "I take it there's something you'd rather he didn't remember."

He chided himself internally—he shouldn't have been so obvious about it. There was no use in denying it now.

"Take it from me, Mr. Luthor. Be as honest as you can with him now. It will make things much easier later on."

That advice would have been useful a few minutes ago. He'd already shot himself in the foot. He'd just received everything he had ever wanted, and now it was only a matter of time before he lost it all. Still, he forced himself to say, "Thank you, Doctor."

She nodded. "Take care, Mr. Luthor," she said, and she disappeared down the hall.