Title: Out of Place
Author: Dannyblue
Email: [email protected]
Summary: A Smallville/Charmed crossover. What's stranger than being a teen-aged alien? How about being the son of an angel and a Charmed One?
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: SMALLVILLE and its characters do not belong to me. The same goes for CHARMED. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: All you have to do is ask.
Notes: This is one of my famous, "Trying to get over writer's block," fics. For those of you reading "A Highlander In Smallville", that's the one I'm blocked on. And I've been working on it since October, which is just depressing. Hopefully, this story will free up my creative juices enough for HIS to flow again. In the meantime, I thought I'd have a little fun with another idea I've been playing with. Since CHARMED airs after the Easy View of SMALLVILLE on Sundays, a crossover seemed like a natural.
Feedback: Please, and thank you.




"Have a nice day, Mrs. Kent," the clerk said as he pushed her purchases across the counter.

"You too, Dave," Martha said, a cheerful lilt in her voice. As she lifted the shopping bag, she offered him a friendly smile. "And tell Molly I said 'hi'."

There was a bounce in her step as she left the hardware store. And she said a bright 'hello' to every customer she passed. As she stepped outside, she took a deep breath. The sun was shining. The air was crisp, but not too cool. It was a beautiful day, which fit her mood perfectly.

She wasn't sure why but, this morning, she woke up feeling…good. Really good. Maybe because, for the last two weeks, life for the Kents had been almost boring. There was no-one snooping around, trying to uncover the family secrets. Jonathan was almost back to his old self again. Clark hadn't had to save anyone from meteor mutants, garden-variety criminals, or life-threatening accidents. And the sheriff hadn't been to the farm in ages.

It wasn't that she liked being bored. If she did, she never would have gone to work for Lionel Luthor. But, for two and a half years, so much of the "excitement" in her family's lives was negative. A long stretch of normal was a welcome relief.

A smile on her lips, Martha walked towards the curb. At the moment, things weren't busy in "downtown" Smallville. It was that quiet time, when everyone was in school or at work, toiling at their farms, or running their households. There wasn't another person in sight, and no traffic to speak of.

Stepping out into the empty street, she walked towards the truck. She was halfway across when her right foot sank into a pothole. Her ankle twisted, sending a sharp pain shooting up her leg. Knocking her off balance.

Martha let out a started cry as she pitched forward. Heart leaping in her chest, she crashed to the ground. Her packages scattered. Her palms scraped against the cement.

For one long moment, she lay still, too stunned to move. Then, with a soft moan, she pushed herself into a sitting position. As her right ankle started to throb, she glared at the pothole.

"That's what you get, Martha," she muttered. "You were enjoying your good mood so much, you jinxed yourself."

*****

Herbert Jackson prided himself on being a good driver. Since he got his license fifty years ago, he'd never had a single accident. He obeyed the speed limit, never got behind the wheel without his glasses, even though he could see almost as well without them, and followed all the rules of the road. He looked down his nose at people who put on make-up or talked on cell phones while driving. You'd never catch Herbert Jackson doing something so reckless.

Still, he loved his coffee.

Safely stopped at a stop sign, he took the lid off of a cup of steaming hot coffee from his favorite diner. None of those fancy-shmancy frou-frou concoctions for Herbert Jackson. He liked his coffee the way it was meant to be. Black, no sugar, and strong. And, preferably, not made by his wife. He loved that woman, but an expert coffee-maker she was not.

As he made a left turn, Herbert started to take a sip of his coffee. And that's when his fingers decided to get clumsy. The cup slipped from his grasp and, just like that, he had a lap full of liquid fire.

With a startled scream, Herbert rose out of his seat. His head slammed into the roof of his truck. His foot pressed down on the gas pedal.

*****

Martha was on her knees, gathering her fallen packages, when she heard it. The loud, angry roar of an engine. Glancing up, she saw a truck racing down the street, a massive blur of steel and chrome.

She jumped to her feet, with every intention of getting out of the way. But, when she put her weight on her right foot, her ankle gave out. As she stumbled, almost fell again, she realized she'd never get out of the way in time.

And that's when she heard a strange sound coming from behind her. It was like music, but not. Like chimes over a melodic hum. Like…light trying to sing.

Suddenly, two strong hands grabbed her shoulders. And the world dissolved into sparks of electric blue.

*****

Herbert Jackson's truck barreled harmlessly across the spot where Martha Kent had been. As the pain in his lap faded to a tolerable level, he eased his foot off the gas.

He never knew how close he came to having his very first accident.

*****

It was only an instant, but it felt like an hour. Millions, billions, of neon blue lights, each as small as a drop of rain, danced before Martha's eyes. Her body tingled all over as little painless shocks pricked at her skin. She felt like she was moving, but standing still at the same time.

In the next instant, the electric blue sparks began to fade, and the 'real world' took shape around her. And that's when her stomach dropped. As a wave of dizziness crashed over her, the world started to tilt.

"Hey," a concerned voice said from behind her. A hand grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. "Take deep breaths. You'll be alright in a minute."

Martha gasped for air, closing her eyes so she couldn't see the world spinning. As her dizziness faded, she opened her eyes, took in her surroundings. And she realized she wasn't where she'd expected to be.

Eyes wide with shock, she frantically looked around at her surroundings. She wasn't in the street anymore. In fact, she wasn't anywhere near it. Instead, she was in…an alley. The one next to the gift shop, as a matter of fact.

"Are you okay?"

Startled because, for a moment, she forgot she wasn't alone, she swung around.

The young man watched her with worried green eyes. She'd guess he was in his late teens, or early twenties. He was tall, over six feet, with dark brown hair. And there was a freckle on the left side of his nose.

"What…?" Martha began, thoughts racing. "How did you…?" Unable to find the words, she simply stared at him. The fear she felt when in the path of that truck was replaced with fear of a different sort. Her mind was flooded with memories of Alicia, who could move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Who'd stalked Clark, hurt her own father, and held a knife to Lana's throat.

And there were people all over Smallville who, like Alicia, had been effected by the meteors. Martha, and many of the people she knew, had had experiences with meteor mutants—as Chloe liked to call them. And, with only a few exceptions, those experiences hadn't been pleasant.

Was he…?

Maybe the young man saw the fear in her eyes. Suddenly, he seemed cautious. Defensive. Spine straightening, he took a step back. "You're okay now," he said. "So I guess I'll…"

"Wait!" Martha was surprised to hear herself exclaim. Without meaning to, she took a step forward. "You saved my life!" It was like saying the words out loud made them sink in. A tremor raced through her body. If not for him, she could be dead. If he hadn't done whatever he did…

"It's okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I just…"

For a moment, he looked for all the world like a little boy trying to hide the fact that his feelings had been hurt. Familiar with the puppy-dog look—Clark had perfected it years ago—Martha's heart clenched with guilt. Someone saves her life, and she thanks him with suspicion. Was this what her own son had to look forward to? Being feared by the people he rescued?

Martha stepped closer, so he could see she wasn't afraid anymore. "Thank you."

It took a moment but, eventually, his too-serious-for-his-age expression melted into a boyish, almost shy smile. "You're welcome."

Martha smiled in return. "I think it's only fair you know the names of the people you save." She held out her hand. "I'm Martha Kent."

After a second's hesitation, he returned the handshake. "I'm Chris," he said. "Chris Halliwell."


(TO BE CONTINUED)



AN: For those who haven't seen season 6 of CHARMED, Chris is not an original character. So, I can't take the credit for creating him. He's not mine. Darn it!