� Lineage

In the space of a few days, I've been kidnapped, lied to, and nearly died before being saved by one Clark Kent.

Another typical week in Smallville.

Except the reality of this most recent situation is anything but typical. I'm still not sure what to make of all of it� I'm not sure what to make of any of it, to be more specific.

It started out with a simple letter. A Ms. Dunlevey wrote to me and asked that I meet with her, regarding Clark and me. It was all very vague, just cryptic enough to raise my curiosity.

I had no choice but to agree to the meeting.

We met in my office the same day, and Ms. Dunlevey told me that she believed herself to be Clark's mother. She said Mr. Kent wouldn't allow her to speak with Clark, and asked if I'd be willing to intervene on her behalf. I tried to explain to her that it wasn't my place, especially taking into consideration my less than ideal relationship with Mr. Kent.

That's when she told me she used to work for my mother. She revealed that she and my father had gotten close during my mother's illness, and that Clark was my brother.

My brother.

I could've sworn I heard Twilight Zone music playing in the background.

I wanted to go straight to Clark's home and ask him about it, but I managed to hold off until the next day. I didn't want to say anything too sentimental that I might have regretted later. Although there really wasn't much point� Clark's always had a talent for reading my moods, no matter how well I'm covering.

If the look on Clark and his mother's face was any indication, I should have waited at least another hour before going to see him. They appeared to be right in the middle of a pretty intense conversation. Still, Mrs. Kent told me my interruption was no bother, and Clark went with me to his loft.

I told him about Rachel Dunlevey's visit to the mansion, and what she'd said. He seemed surprised to hear of my father's connection to her, but insisted Ms. Dunlevey was not his mother. Clark then tried to turn the conversation around and asked me if I'd talked to my father about his apparent infidelity.

Clark's surprisingly innocent sometimes, especially when it comes to my father. Then again, he doesn't really know my father.

It's frightening to realize that there is at least one topic upon which Mr. Kent and I would agree completely.

I told Clark that I was as skeptical about her claims as he was, but considering my father founded the agency which placed Clark with the Kents, and that agency, Metropolis United Charities, only dealt with one adoption� well, it didn't seem as far-fetched as Clark seemed to believe it was.

For the first time I can remember, I actually hope he is keeping something from me. That would be easier to understand than his complete dismissal of the possibility.

Then again, Clark's happy with the family he has. And the last thing in the world I would want is for Clark to be sucked into the drama that is a relationship with my father.

I left Clark's and went straight to the plant, hoping that work would help me to take my mind off of Ms. Dunlevey and her claims. I stayed for about an hour, then decided to go home and speak with my father.

I was speeding when I pulled out of the garage, but I wasn't speeding enough. Ms. Dunlevey appeared in front of my car, and I hit the brakes, just barely stopping in time. I asked her if she was alright, and she came around to the side of my car.

The next thing I knew, I was tied to a chair with Ms. Dunlevey hovering over me.

The first thing I asked her was where I was, and she told me I was at her house. She said she'd bought it with the money my father gave her, that she was fixing it up for Clark.

Great. Once again I was at the mercy of a psychopath. Things like that never used to happen to me before I came to Smallville.

At least, not unwillingly, anyway.

I'd recently taken out a book from the library on how best to communicate with nut jobs, so I attempted to use what I'd learned. I told her if my father was lying and Clark really was my brother, I wanted to know as badly as she did. I wasn't lying, of course, but I did leave out the part about her being completely insane.

My timing needs work, however. Ms. Dunlevey was not at all pleased to have her rant about Mrs. Kent getting to bake cookies interrupted. Still, I kept going, asking her how kidnapping me could possibly help her.

She told me that if my father didn't admit the truth, he would know the pain of losing his son.

My father do something to actually save my life? Pigs will be flying over the ice in hell before that happens.

She spoke with my father on the phone, telling him her demands. Less than an hour later, my father was making a press conference.

He said, of course, he would never give into her demands. It's not LuthorCorp policy to give into kidnappers and terrorists. Blah, blah, blah.

I missed the latter half of his press statement, as I was too busy trying to avoid Ms. Dunlevey's axe. I managed to get my legs free just as she was bringing the weapon down. I kicked her in the stomach, and the chair I was taped to toppled over.

The next thing I knew, two blurry Clarks were bending over me.

Maybe that's Clark's secret. He's got a blurry twin who only those with concussions can see.

Ms. Dunlevey was off in the corner crying while Clark was freeing me. Whatever happened that I missed, whatever Clark said to her, it worked like a charm. She didn't seem in the least bit homicidal. I'd have almost felt sorry for her, if not for my pounding headache.

Clark called the authorities, then saw me safely home, which was sweet of him. He left pretty soon after, though, saying he had to talk to his parents.

I didn't mind. I had a few things to say to my father, too.

After a brief exchange on my father's willingness to let me die, I got down to the real questions. Was anything Ms. Dunlevey said true?

He told me that he did, indeed, have an affair with her. She came to him a year or so after the incident with a child, and said it was his. My father, not wanting a scandal, especially when my mother was so ill, paid her off and had the child placed with a suitable family.

When I asked if that suitable family was the Kents, he laughed.

I'll admit, that's an angle I didn't consider when Ms. Dunlevey first approached me. The thought of my father allowing his son, even an illegitimate one, to be raised on a farm� not in a million years.

I felt a small pang of regret about that. To get past it, I asked what became of the child.

My father said he died before his first birthday.

Is it wishful thinking that makes me believe he's lying? Or is it my gut?

I don't know.

But I fully intend to find out.

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Melody and Erana
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