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! I had minor delay in writing this bad boy—what with the new Harry Potter book (OMG!) and because this was just a hard chapter to write (it's hard to dumb down all that medical stuff so everyone will get it). Sadly, no Lex/Kate scenes yet; probably next chapter.

THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FANFICTION

Chapter Five

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
--"Closing Time" by Semisonic

Martha stared.

There was no doubt about it—her niece was blonde. To say that it was a shock was an understatement. The last time Martha had seen Kate was at Anne's funeral, and the young girl had inherited her father's thick mop of black hair. That curly mass had been replaced by straight platinum blonde hair. With her ungodly white complexion, the color certainly looked natural enough. But it just wasn't Kate.

Sam and Kate stopped just short of the porch stairs, hesitant to take the last few steps. Considering whom her husband and son were, Martha knew she'd have to make the first move. "Welcome to Smallville," Martha smiled reassuringly as she descended the porch stairs. She held her arms out towards Kate, unsure if her niece was going to accept the gesture.

A shaky smile ghosted across Kate's face as she moved into the embrace, albeit stiffly. "It's nice to meet you, Aunt Martha."

Martha bit her lip. There had been a small quaver in Kate's voice when she had said Martha's name. Kate was obviously uncomfortable, especially using such familiar terms as 'aunt.' Martha released Kate slowly, patting her arm as Jonathan made his way off the porch.

"Jonathan Kent," he offered his hand out to Sam, who gripped it tightly.

"Sam Marshall. I can't tell you how much we appreciate this." Sam gave his daughter an inscrutable look. "Right, Kate?"

"Right," Kate mumbled, her eyes determinedly fixed on the ground.

Martha put her arm about Kate's shoulders and led her up the stairs. "Kate, this is Clark. He's going to be a sophomore this year."

Clark gave Kate a wide grin, "Yeah, I've got World Civ to look forward to this year. Since you're such a history buff, maybe you can help me out."

Kate gave him a mildly incredulous look. "I don't do people's homework for them."

Clark colored a bit. "That's not what I—"

Kate smirked a little, waving aside his stammers. "I'm just messing with you. Don't get so upset."

"I'm not upset, I'm just—"

"Why don't we go inside?" Martha cut in. Clark didn't looked entirely pleased with his cousin. In fact, she was a little surprised at Kate's sharpness. Anne had always possessed a quick mind and even quicker tongue, but her daughter seemed to be taking that legacy to the extreme.

Jonathan and Sam nodded their assent, and everyone made their way into the kitchen. Out of the corner of her eye, Martha saw Sam give Kate a warning look. It did not bode particularly well.

Martha led the way into the kitchen, gesturing for Kate to make herself comfortable at the table. Clark followed his cousin warily, taking a seat opposite Kate. He still looked a little put put by Kate's comments, and Kate's unapologetic face did nothing to ease the situation. Jonathan and Sam, already absorbed in a conversation about the Metropolis Sharks, weren't helping much.

"How 'bout something to drink?" Martha offered as she pulled glasses out of a cabinet. "You looked thirsty."

"No, thank you," Kate answered in a disinterested voice.

"Are you sure? I've made ice tea."

Kate furrowed her brow. "Yes, I'm quite sure."

"Soda?"

"No, that's really—"

"Coffee?"

"You don't need—"

"Just pick something!" Clark laughed, mildly exasperated. "We even have chocolate milk, if that's what you're holding out for."

"I can't," Kate gritted out, "I'm anemic. Those drinks impair the body's ability to absorb iron." Kate looked away, her hair falling about her face. "I'm sorry, but I simply can't."

There was a long pause.

Silently, Martha turned to the sink and filled a glass with water, before setting it in front of Kate. Martha felt an odd tightness in her throat as Kate's grey eyes peered up at her. "You do look parched."

"I'm allergic to water."

"What!"

Kate laughed suddenly at Martha's shocked expression—a nervous laugh, but laughter all the same. "I'm kidding." Kate took a dainty sip as Clark and Martha continued to stare. "Really—it was just a joke."

As Kate drank, Clark gave Martha a look that clearly said Are you sure about this? Martha glared back in the affirmative. Now if she could convince herself of it…

"Well then!" Sam pulled out a chair beside Kate, "I suppose you've got some questions."

Jonathan and Martha took their seats on side of Clark. There was another long moment of silence as the Marshalls and the Kents stared at one another across the kitchen table. It was rather like the meeting of two superpowers.

Jonathan cleared his throat uncomfortably. Leaning back, he snatched a manilla envelope off the kitchen counter and tossed it into the center of the table. "So…what's all this about?"

Both Kate and her father stared at it for a moment before Kate made a move to open it . She extracted a thick packet of papers. "Did you, by any chance, read the information I sent?" Kate asked in a light voice that did not quite match her countenance. "Or at least skim the highlighted portions?"

Martha tried not to cringe. Jonathan did not look please at his niece's flippancy. "I am a farmer, not a doctor," Jonathan reminded her in an acidic tone, "Put it in context for me."

Kate did not flinch at the challenge in his voice. "I have AML—acute myelogenous leukemia. Leukemia is a cancer originating in the bone marrow, myelogenous means my body makes too many immature blood cells, and acute because it can kill me in a few months if left untreated." Kate's eyes flashed dangerously. "That enough context for you?"

Martha forestalled any of Jonathan's comments by leaning over to grip Kate's hand. Kate looked taken aback at the unexpected kindness—and a little suspicious.

"What are your doctors doing about it?" Clark asked, oblivious to the tension. He held the abandoned packet in his hands. "It's got all sorts of things listed…"

"It depends on what they're treating," Sam remarked dryly. Kate removed her hand from Martha's, her manner completely businesslike. "Most treatments—drugs and such—are just to deal with side effects or conditions that arise secondary to the cancer.

"Like the anemia?" Martha guessed.

"Right." Sam leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. "But that's a more serious than most. Usually the medications are for more temporary problems—nausea, loss of appetite and so on."

"What about chemotherapy?" Clark blurted.

For the third time, silence fell in the Kents' kitchen.

"Always the blunt one, eh?" Kate crooked an eyebrow at him. Even Clark's neck turned red to match his face. Kate sighed tiredly, running her fingers through her hair thoughtfully. Her face hardened.

Sam leapt forward as if burnt. "Kate, don't—"

With an almighty yank, Kate ripped off her entire head of blond hair off, exposing a perfectly bald head.

Martha didn't know how much silence she could take in one day.

"Y-you're…," Clark began weakly.

"Bald? Hairless? A follicle failure?"

"I suppose bald works," Clark said faintly. Martha felt as shocked as Clark. It was one thing to hear about the effects of chemotherapy; it was quite another to see it sitting across the table from you. Kate, despite her droll attitude towards her hair, shifted uneasily under the scrutiny of the Kents.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to save his daughter from further embarrassment. "Speaking of treatments," Sam pulled some papers out of the manila envelope, "here's the list of Kate's doctors…"

Martha allowed her attention to drift as Sam launched into a long-winded discussion of contact information and Kate's medications. Both Jonathan and Clark listened intently, while Kate busied herself with putting the wig back on. Noticing the agitated manner in which her hands shook, Martha surreptitiously watched her niece out of the corner of her eye.

On closer inspection, Kate didn't look sickly. She looked absolutely terrible. Of course, Martha hadn't been expecting her to be wholly healthy; she did have cancer, after all. But still…Kate was a mere shadow of a person. Even with the sunlight peeking through the curtains, her skin was a pasty white, accentuating her thin face and sunken cheeks. The rest of her body didn't look to be faring any better. She stood at least 5'5" but barely seemed to have a hundred pounds clinging to her bony frame.

Suddenly, the reason for the blonde wig became clear. With such frightfully pale skin, a black wig would've looked fake, despite it being her natural color. Dark hair meant dark eyebrows and eyelashes, and Kate lacked both. The blonde wig deterred people from immediately noticing Kate's missing eyebrows.

Martha still wasn't overly fond of the blonde wig.

"…okay, Martha?"

Martha blinked, startled to find everyone looking at her. Blushing a bit, she smiled uncertainly, "What was that?"

"Dad asked if you wanted to take Kate up to her new bedroom," Clark supplied helpfully.

"We're going to stay down here, to work out the insurance," Sam gestured to Jonathan. He nudged his daughter. "Go on, Kate. I know the Kents put a lot of work into getting the room ready."

"No trouble at all," Martha said as she rose from her seat. She turned to Clark. "Why don't you unload the car? I'm sure Kate's got mountains of clothes to be carried in—teenage girl and all."

"You'd be surprised," Kate replied, getting up from the table to follow Martha. "Just be careful with the one marked 'fragile' on the side."

"Why?"

"Because, believe it or not, it's actually fragile," Kate told him, in a tone of voice that seemed to question Clark's intelligence.

"Right this way," Martha pulled Kate up the stairs, recognizing the stormy look on her son's face. Kate's heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she followed Martha down the brightly lit upstairs hall. Struck by an unexpected trill of nervousness, Martha hesitated, her hand hovering at doorknob. "Well," Martha said, "I hope you like yellow!"

She pushed the door open, revealing the sunlight guest room. Newly cleaned and cleared of all of the Kents' accumulated junk, the room was a bright sunshine yellow with white wood furniture. Martha gestured encouragingly for Kate to enter the room. Her face utterly neutral, Kate stepped into the room, slowly perusing her surroundings.

In the afternoon light, Kate seemed almost translucent. She was so thin and frail that the light almost shone through her. The yellow walls enhanced the pallor of her skin, making her appear skeletal. Standing alone in the middle of the room, Kate looked very sick, very petulant, and very alone.

"Do…," Martha struggled to find her voice, "do you like it?"

Kate wandered over to the twin bed, running her fingers over the comforter. "It's fine. Very yellow."

"Here's the first box," Clark's voice floated up the stairs. Martha moved out of the way as Clark squeezed past her, a large cardboard box easily balanced in his hands. Setting it down in the center of the room, he quickly exited with a roll of the eyes, knowing he'd have to take his time carrying each box.

Kate knelt down, tugging the box open to reveal a tightly packed collection of books. She quietly began to pull them out, arranging them about her. Martha, feeling rather useless, offered, "Would you like some help?"

"No, I'll manage," Kate murmured, stacking the books.

Turning to leave, Martha glanced back at her niece. Kate was idly stroking the spine of a particularly thick tome, her expression distant. Martha sighed.

This was going to be difficult.

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No one wants to see that.