Title: "Like a Melody"

Summary: "A pretty girl is like a melody/That haunts you day and night." A new addition to the Kent family is sickly, stubborn, and challenging. Lex Luthor does not like to be challenged.

Author Notes: PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH CHAPTER! My notes are essential to understanding this story, mainly because (1) I have only seen the first season of Smallville and (2) I have only a rudimentary understanding of Superman canon. God helps us all. Anyway, this is my first Smallville story so flame away.

Major props to the Smallville Fanfiction Resources!

THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION

Chapter One

"Well then, it appears you need my help."
--The Merchant of Venice, I.3

With the last bit of sunlight streaming through the windows, Martha Kent prepared dinner. On that July Saturday, both her son and her husband had been outside all day, toiling at the farm work under the hot Kansas sun. Just as the timer went off for the pasta, the house phone started to jangle loudly. Sighing, Martha turned off the stove and reach for the phone.

"Hello?"

"May I speak to Martha Kent?"

She blinked in surprise. The voice—clearly male—sounded Southern, something not often heard in Smallville. Probably just a telemarketer. "This is Mrs. Kent."

"Hello, Martha," the man answered with a relieved voice. "This is Sam Marshall." He gave a worried chuckle. "I was afraid that I had the wrong number."

"Sam?" Martha smiled, "This certainly is a surprise!" Well, that might be a bit of an understatement. Despite being her brother-in-law, Sam had never bothered to keep up with the Kent family. The holiday newsletter was the only correspondence the Kents had received from him in years—and it was his daughter, not Sam, that wrote the newsletter. "How have things been with you?'

"Oh, pretty good. With the sudden increase of military operations, being a contractor is an excellent job to have," Sam's voice floated through the receiver, a warm baritone that spoke of his childhood in Alabama. "What about things on the farm? I read about Clark's rescue of the boy billionaire last fall."

Martha gave a tense little chuckle. "Yes, it was…something else. He's doing pretty well, especially after his first year of high school." If Sam had read about that, then… "Are you living in Metropolis now?"

"Yes. My company's headquarters are in Metropolis, so Kate and I moved here, just in time for her to start her freshmen year in high school."

Martha did some quick math in her head. Sam's daughter, Kate, was about three years older than Clark, so she must have just graduated. "So what are Kate's plans? Is she going to be going to college?"

"Only part time. Up at Metropolis University."

"Part time?" Martha frowned a bit at that news. It wasn't as if Sam couldn't afford to send her fulltime, to any college. "Has she decided to do both work and school?"

"Well…that's actually why I'm calling you."

That figured. Sam needed a reason to do anything, and had never been particularly forthcoming with any personal information. He was a reserved individual but at times, it could be tiresome.

"Did Kate ever mention her condition?"

"What?"

"Her condition. You know," Sam's voice dropped to a quieter volume, "in all those Christmas letters she sent out. Anything at all?"

"Sam, I really don't know what you're talking about," Martha told him. "You're going to have to give me more to work with if you want me to guess."

Sam sighed. "Cancer. Leukemia, to be specific. Since she was seventeen."

"Two years?" Martha asked weakly, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter. The last two holiday letters contained the usual cheery sentiments—not even a hint of sickness. Martha was finding it difficult to breathe. Despite the distance between the two families, Martha always had some affection for Kate—she was, after all, her sister's only child.

"In the beginning it wasn't that bad. It just started out as a persistence cough," Sam said. "Then it got worse."

"How bad?"

Another heavy sigh. "You and I both know the toll cancer takes on a person. She's lost a lot of weight, developed anemia, and chemotherapy…"

"All that pretty black hair…"

"Yeah."

It was too much, too fast. In her bright kitchen, Martha felt very much out of place. At least the doctors had caught it early this time.

"Is there anything we can do? Jonathan and I?" Martha asked. Never mind that she hadn't seen her niece in years. Martha just couldn't do nothing.

"Remember what I said about a government contractor being a high-demand job?" Sam sounded almost as if he were mad at himself for that fact. "The government's got me flying all over the damn place, all the damn time. I'm…worried. About Kate. The last bout of chemo wasn't kind to her, and I don't want to leave her by herself."

Martha could hear the reluctance in Sam's voice. It must be killing his pride to have to ask this, to feel like he couldn't care for his daughter like he should. Martha knew that he must be in dire straits to have to ask anyone for help.

"What are you asking?"

"If it's possible—I mean, if it's not too much of a strain, could Kate…could she perhaps stay with you?"

Martha gaped a bit, before finding her voice again. "For how long?"

"I've got to go abroad—bases in Europe and such. She needs someone to look after her—"

"Sam, please understand—there's the farm, and all the stuff Clark gets into. Jonathan and I simply don't have the time to play 'babysitter' for another teenager."

"Kate doesn't need a babysitter," Sam sounded a little indignant. "I'm concerned about her fainting spells…and getting her to eat…." A frustrated growl was growing in his voice. "I just want—"

"Sam." Martha interrupted his rant, a small smile on her face. "Let me talk to Jonathan and Clark. I will get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thanks, Martha," Sam's relieved voice drifted through the receiver. "Just—thanks."

Martha placed the phone back in its cradle. Looking out the back door, she could see Jonathan and Clark trudging up to the house as the sun sank below the horizon. Despite Clark's superhuman abilities—or perhaps because of them—Martha nevertheless felt motherly pangs of worry for her son. No parent should ever have to agonize over failing their child.

Jonathan would understand.

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