Title: A Highlander In Smallville (formerly "Power Lost, Power Found")
Author: Dannyblue
Email: [email protected]
Rating: PG-13
Category: Action
Summary: Sequel to "Things Change". An actual crossover with THE HIGHLANDER.
Spoilers: This is set some time is season 2 of SMALLVILLE. General spoilers for THE HIGHLANDER.
Disclaimer: I do not own SMALLVILLE, or THE HIGHLANDER. No profit is made, no infringement intended.
Distribution: Just ask.
Feedback: Please and thank you.
Author's Note: This is a pretty major rewrite of "Power Lost". After being put on hold by a massive case of writer's block, the story continues…but with some changes. For example, while this chapter might seem similar to the original, you'll start to notice drastic changes in part two. Anyway, I hope you like this new version.

For those who'd like to read "Things Change" first, just click on my name at the top of the page to go to my personal profile. "Things Change" is story number 9.  


 

PART ONE


Chloe ducked to avoid a hit to the shoulder. As the first object passed by on her left, another came from her right, a blur in the dimly illuminated barn. She took a quick step to the left, and threw her right arm out to the side. Her forearm hit the bag with a thwack, and it veered back and away.

Chloe was quick to reset herself. Body turned to the side, feet in a T formation for balance, arms raised in a defensive position.

The next blow caught her from behind, square in the back. She let out a startled yelp as the impact knocked her forward, stole the air from her lungs. There was nothing she could do to stop her fall, so she went with it, letting momentum take over. She tucked her chin in, elbows bent, palms flat. When she hit the floor, she rolled. Her body flowed over and up as graceful as silk. In an instant, she was back on her feet.

Chloe spun around in time to see the sandbag glide towards her. Her fist hit the canvas with a solid thunk, and drove the bag back. The runners the bag hung from squeaked in protest.

Her harsh, labored breaths almost drowned out the sound of the next attack. It was faint, soft as a whisper. Low and close to the ground.

Chloe jumped, pulling her knees to almost chest level. And just in time, too. The barrel passed beneath her feet, rolling under and away with incredible speed.

Tired and off balance, Chloe landed hard...and wrong. When her ankle twisted beneath her, she let out a gasp of startled pain. As she staggered, most of her attention focused on staying on her feet.

And that's when a sandbag slammed into her left side.

The force of the hit, much harder than the last one, lifted Chloe off her feet. Time stood still as she flew threw the air. The sensation was almost peaceful. She felt light, weightless. The only sound was the air whispering past her head. The world, dim and shadowy, passed by in a blur. It seemed like it could go on forever...

Until she crashed into the wall.

She'd had the wind knocked out of her before, but never like this. It was like someone used a vacuum to suck her lungs dry. Then gravity reached up and dragged her down way too fast. She landed, with a grunt, on some well-placed bales of hay, which was good. But hay? Not as soft as people thought.

"Chloe!" a panicky voice exclaimed. "Oh, my God!"

As she started to tumble off the bale of hay, she was caught by a pair of strong hands.

"Chloe! Are you okay?" The voice was frantic now. "Are you alright?"

Hands as frantic as the voice tried to...do something. Sit her up, or lay her down, or check her out. It was a little disconcerting. Especially since, in all the confusion, she wasn't all that sure where her arms and legs were.

"God, I'm so sorry!" the voice continued. He sounded so upset, she almost felt bad for him. Even though his 'helping hands' were making her seasick.

Then, a miracle happened. A single, shallow breath squeaked its way into her lungs. It was followed by another, then another, until...

"Clark," Chloe wheezed. She tried to shrug his hands away. "Clark." Wheeze. "Sto-stop. Stop!"

Clark froze. His hands stilled. And Chloe used one precious breath to sigh in relief.

"Chloe, are you okay?" Clark asked.

Chloe studied her best friend's concerned face. He was kneeling in front of her, his hands wrapped around her forearms. And she could see the first sparks of guilt shining in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he continued. "I didn't mean to push that last sandbag so hard. I really didn't!"

Still too winded to want to speak, Chloe nodded, and hoped he'd interpret the gesture as, It's alright. I understand. It wasn't your fault.

But this was Clark Kent, who wasn't good at reading subtle signals like body language, and facial expressions, and junk like that. So, she forced her labored lungs to produce sound.

"I'm...okay," she panted. "Just...need a minute."

But, when Clark started packing for a guilt trip, a minute was a lot to ask of him.

"How do you feel?" he demanded. "Is anything"--he gulped--"broken?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. During their first training session, she fell. There was no tucking and rolling that time. Nope, she crashed to the ground, landed in a graceless, painful heap right at Clark's feet. She also managed to break her pinkie in the process.

After a month of training with...After the training she'd already gone through, Chloe was used to getting hurt. It was part of the Immortal package. But Clark, who wasn't even really at fault, acted like he'd committed a capital offense. For a solid week, even after her pinkie healed, he couldn't go ten minutes without saying, 'I'm sorry, Chloe.' At first, it was kind of cute. Then, it started to get on her nerves. She'd decided to never again tell him if she broke anything while they were training. Then, she found out about one of his other...talents.

"I twisted my ankle," Chloe said now. She rotated her foot, and winced when she felt a twinge. "But that was before the bag hit me. Other than that, I think I'm all in one piece."

Clark frowned, obviously not satisfied with her self-diagnosis. Eyes narrowed, gaze suddenly intense, he looked her over. Starting at the top of her head, he slowly worked his way down.

Chloe tried not to squirm in discomfort. Added to all of the other weirdness in her life was the fact that her best friend was a human...well, alien x-ray machine. Knowing he could look through her clothes pretty much whenever was bad enough. But he could look inside her, could see her bones, and muscle tissue, and internal organs...

"You're shivering!" Clark exclaimed, alarmed. "Why are you shivering? Are you going into shock?"

"No. Just thinking thoughts it's way better not to think."

Clark gave her a confused frown, then went back to his examination. "I don't think anything's broken."

"And, even if it was, it wouldn't be for long," Chloe reminded him. That was the part he always seemed to forget. "I wouldn't mind lying down though."

"Oh. Okay. Sure!" Eager, as always, to be helpful, Clark jumped to his feet. He started to bend toward her. "I..."

"...will not carry me. I can make it on my own steam."

"Oh, r-right," Clark said with chagrin. "Sorry."

But Chloe's claim that she could make it on her own steam was a bit of an exaggeration. Thanks to her twisted ankle, Chloe had to lean on Clark to keep from falling down.

As they made their way across the barn, they had to walk around the three sandbags that hung from the ceiling. Clark and Mr. Kent had rigged up this pretty cool system. They'd explained it to her, but she'd been too busy punching a bag to pay attention. Basically, the bags were attached to these roller thingies, like the kind on sliding closet doors. The rollers were placed in channels that allowed the bags to slide wherever you pushed them. And, when the training sessions were over, the bags could be taken down and stashed in a corner somewhere.

It the best alternative any of them could think of. She couldn't really spar with Clark. The first time she hit him, she'd break her hand and send him on another major guilt trip. But she had to keep her limited fighting skills sharp. The bags were good for punching, kicking, ducking and dodging. They worked like a charm. Well, as long as the guy swinging them, who was super strong, didn't accidentally push one too hard and send her flying across the barn.

Finally, they made up the stairs to Clark's loft. With a grateful groan, Chloe sat down on the sofa.

"Do you want anything?" Clark asked, hovering over her like a worried mother hen. "Something to drink? Ice for your ankle?"

"Nope. This is good for now. Ask me again in a minute, 'kay?" With a deep sigh, Chloe rested her head against the sofa back, closed her eyes, and tried to forget the aches and pains. "At least there's no blood this time."

(TO BE CONTINUED)