Title: Out of Sight - THIS IS A SMALLVILLE / X FILES CROSSOVER
Author: Lisa
Email: lc7685@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville nor X Files, or any of the characters or
plots originally associated with either show.
Rating:
Summary: A chance meeting 18 years ago is relived as Smallville gains two
new residents / Monica and John find new lives post-Truth
A/N: I've seen Mystic Pizza, and so I know what Annabeth looked like at my
current age, and I can easily assume what she would have looked like pre-
Mystic Pizza, but for the sake of argument, let's say I'm making it all up
from scratch :D
1984
"That'll be two-ten."
Martha wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation occurring beside her as she sipped a cup of coffee and pretended to read the legal brief in front of her. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be doing this kind of work. The only reason she was here was because he was paying her. It was his last resort, she knew, to try to convince her that the law held her future. Martha knew that it didn't, and that it probably never would. Ordinarily she may have found certain aspects of the law intriguing. A part of her realised that yes, she could be a lawyer, and a good one, if only her heart were in it. Yet if her heart wasn't in it in Metropolis, it wasn't going to be in it in Texas. Austin, no less - a working holiday, her father called it. Even though he was there with her, working, so it wasn't much of a holiday. She sighed, looking over the attached settlement.
"Honey, you're short ten."
"Oh, um, I'm sorry. Just a second." Martha turned her head immediately. She hadn't noticed the girl beside her when she'd ordered just a few minutes ago, however now that she had, she realised how young she sounded. Martha looked the girl over as she dug in her bag for the extra change. She was slim, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She seemed a little rough around the edges. The jeans were creased and so was the white shirt visible under the black jacket. She wasn't so tall, but Martha assumed she was tall for her age.
"You got it or not sweetie?" The girl hesitated and Martha immediately reached down for her purse in her bag, pulling out a ten-cent coin.
"Here-" she stated simply, sliding it across the counter to the waitress. The girl looked over at her, eyes wide, and it was only then that Martha realised how young she looked. She had light olive skin, hazel to brown eyes. Her skin was clear, if not slightly oily. The waitress had accepted the change as payment and slid the coffee towards her as she turned back to the counter. Martha went back to her brief after realising the girl was probably too shy to say anything.
"Thankyou," came a sudden response. Martha smiled, not looking up.
"It's okay-"
"No. Thankyou." Martha looked over at her then, and saw her watching her. "I really thought I had enough."
"It's probably in the bottom of your bag-" She glanced down and realised the girl had a small backpack that looked as though it were about to fall apart.
"It won't be," she sighed. "I guess it's a sign."
"A...sign?" Martha asked. The girl nodded.
"Yeah. A sign. Anyway, thankyou again." She picked up the paper cup and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you later." Martha smiled at the expression.
"See you," she replied. After the girl left Martha turned back to her work and caught the waitress' eye.
"Poor girl," she said.
"Why?" Martha asked, folding the manilla folder.
"Been in here the last couple of days. Always just a coffee. Don't think she can afford much else. Looks like a runaway to me, not that it's any of my business." Martha nodded.
"No, it's probably not. Nor is it mine," she stated, packing up her things. "Listen, do you work here every day?"
"Yeah. Why?" Martha handed her a twenty.
"Next time she comes in, let her have a...doughnut or something. Keep the change."
"How do you know I'll do it?" A smile immediately struck Martha's lips.
"I prefer to believe in people," she stated for the first time.
"Yeah, all right," the waitress managed, curious, as Martha packed up and left.
*
"Martha do you have the contracts drafted?"
"Uh, not yet dad." She heard her father walk into her hotel room.
"The clients are waiting."
"Don't you mean you're waiting? The clients have waited ten years for this settlement. Five minutes won't kill them."
"You know Mr Laguna's dying of lung cancer. Maybe it will."
"That's real funny dad." She scribbled a couple more notes down on a legal pad and handed it to him, smiling. "Here you go."
"Thanks honey. Listen, it really is a great profession."
"It doesn't interest me, dad."
"And what, the stock market does?"
"Yeah," Martha replied matter-of-factly.
"What about the boy?" Martha smirked.
"Pete?"
"No, God Martha you've known Peter for seven years. He's no threat-"
"I'll tell him that," she mumbled.
"I mean the other boy. The farm boy."
"Jonathan? What about him?"
"What are his plans?"
"He's home working on the farm at the moment, dad. Don't worry, I'll finish my degree. He understands."
"Does he? I just don't want to see you wasting your life and being pressured into anything-"
"Dad, for your information, I'm the one that came onto him. He hasn't pressured me at all. All right? Now, won't your clients be waiting for their contract? You better get started on editing."
*
Martha was sitting on the curb outside the hotel as the sun set, watching the sky turn a sweet orange-pink. She smiled, sitting for several more minutes before heading to the payphone across the street. She put a dollar in the meter and dialled out, waiting for it to pick up.
"Kent." Martha smiled.
"Hey, it's me."
"How's Texas? Meet any cowboys?" Martha laughed.
"I don't think so. You never know though, they look like ordinarily people."
"You mean...Cowboys and serial killers are one and the same?"
"Guess so. We should pass that onto MPD."
"Hey, it could come in handy next time the killer leaves his horse at the scene."
"How's the farm?"
"Good. We got rain this morning. Everything looks much greener-"
"Already?"
"No, but it seems much greener because everyone's stopped complaining about how brown the land is. How much longer are you there for?"
"Uh...couple of days maybe. I really want to get back to MU."
"It's summer break, Martha."
"I know but anything has to be better than this."
"You could come visit me?"
"I don't think your population would appreciate that."
"Why not?"
"Jonathan, the last time I rang you, you said that Nell's friends had basically put up a picket line down the main street so you couldn't get anywhere without answering some serious relationship questions. You're telling me that's all gone now?"
"Uh...maybe it's not safe for you here, yet."
"Mm, that'd be right. Half the population of Smallville will hate me, the other won't even make an effort because I'm under 21 and can't legally drink yet." Jonathan chuckled.
"Not that far off. Listen I'll let you go. I miss you."
"Miss you too. I'll ring when I get back home."
"All right. Bye."
"Bye." I love you, Martha finished silently as she hung up the handset. She turned, her cheeks pink, and walked out of the booth. She'd decided to go for a bit of a stroll before it got too dark, but hadn't even rounded the corner when the girl from the coffee shop appeared, sitting on a bench at the entrance to a small park. The girl didn't look up until Martha's shadow crossed over her body, immediately alerting her that there was someone behind her, and she started to pick up to run.
"Hey! Don't-" Martha called before she got too far ahead. The girl turned at the voice of a woman, and recognised her as the woman who'd helped to pay for her coffee. They stood watching each other for a moment until Martha smiled, reaching out her hand. "I won't hurt you. What's your name?" The girl walked forward, managing a smile.
"My name's Monica," she introduced. Martha held out her hand and they shook.
"I'm Martha. Shouldn't you be inside watching TV or something? Playing under the sprinkler?"
"I'm not that young."
"How old are you?"
"I'm a teenager. You don't need to know how old I am specifically."
"Yeah but you're in the lower half, aren't you?"
"The middle half. What are you, eighteen?" Martha smiled.
"Thanks. I'm somewhere around twenty, but if you're not going to be specific, neither am I. So come on, how come you're wearing what you were yesterday, and sitting on park benches?" The girl Martha now knew as Monica shrugged.
"I'm not from around here. Are you?"
"No, I'm helping my dad here while he's got some business to take care of. We're from Metropolis."
"Oh, I've never been there," Monica stated.
"Where are you from?"
"Promise you won't tell? I mean, it seems as though I can trust you-"
"Who am I gonna tell?"
"I'm from Mexico."
"Mexico?" Martha exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for my real parents." Martha glanced at the girl with compassion.
"They're not in Mexico?" She shook her head.
"No, I'm adopted."
"Have you found your real parents yet?" Monica shook her head.
"No, I was uh, thinking about calling home...I can't find them."
"Do your mum and dad know you're here?" Martha watched, concerned, as Monica shook her head.
"No, they think I've gone to a friend's for the week."
"Monica, you're young, here by yourself with no one looking out for you. I think you should go home, okay?" Monica sighed, full of emotion.
"I really wanted to find them, you know, to work out who I was." Martha rested a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"You said it yourself. Not having enough money to live was a sign. My guess is that you know who you are." Monica shrugged. "Listen, you have a mum and a dad in Mexico?" The girl nodded. "Well I don't have a mum, I haven't for many years, and I used to think that not having a mother that I could see or touch meant that I was no longer a complete person, but you know I was wrong."
"Yeah, I get your point. Maybe. I'll see."
"I'm sure they miss you."
"Yeah, I know they will." Martha nodded, checking her watch.
"Listen, I have to get back to the hotel before dad gets angry." She reached into her pocket where she found the hotel's card she'd taken earlier that day, out of interest, or bored, whichever way she looked at it. "This is where I'm staying, if you need any help, all right? Room 103." Monica smiled slightly.
"Thanks," she replied softly, pocketing the card. "I'll see you later." Martha guessed that was her standard farewell.
"Good luck. Take care okay?"
"Yeah, I will..." Monica watched Martha as she headed back down the street, and didn't sit back down at the bench until the young woman was out of sight.
1984
"That'll be two-ten."
Martha wasn't paying too much attention to the conversation occurring beside her as she sipped a cup of coffee and pretended to read the legal brief in front of her. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be doing this kind of work. The only reason she was here was because he was paying her. It was his last resort, she knew, to try to convince her that the law held her future. Martha knew that it didn't, and that it probably never would. Ordinarily she may have found certain aspects of the law intriguing. A part of her realised that yes, she could be a lawyer, and a good one, if only her heart were in it. Yet if her heart wasn't in it in Metropolis, it wasn't going to be in it in Texas. Austin, no less - a working holiday, her father called it. Even though he was there with her, working, so it wasn't much of a holiday. She sighed, looking over the attached settlement.
"Honey, you're short ten."
"Oh, um, I'm sorry. Just a second." Martha turned her head immediately. She hadn't noticed the girl beside her when she'd ordered just a few minutes ago, however now that she had, she realised how young she sounded. Martha looked the girl over as she dug in her bag for the extra change. She was slim, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She seemed a little rough around the edges. The jeans were creased and so was the white shirt visible under the black jacket. She wasn't so tall, but Martha assumed she was tall for her age.
"You got it or not sweetie?" The girl hesitated and Martha immediately reached down for her purse in her bag, pulling out a ten-cent coin.
"Here-" she stated simply, sliding it across the counter to the waitress. The girl looked over at her, eyes wide, and it was only then that Martha realised how young she looked. She had light olive skin, hazel to brown eyes. Her skin was clear, if not slightly oily. The waitress had accepted the change as payment and slid the coffee towards her as she turned back to the counter. Martha went back to her brief after realising the girl was probably too shy to say anything.
"Thankyou," came a sudden response. Martha smiled, not looking up.
"It's okay-"
"No. Thankyou." Martha looked over at her then, and saw her watching her. "I really thought I had enough."
"It's probably in the bottom of your bag-" She glanced down and realised the girl had a small backpack that looked as though it were about to fall apart.
"It won't be," she sighed. "I guess it's a sign."
"A...sign?" Martha asked. The girl nodded.
"Yeah. A sign. Anyway, thankyou again." She picked up the paper cup and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you later." Martha smiled at the expression.
"See you," she replied. After the girl left Martha turned back to her work and caught the waitress' eye.
"Poor girl," she said.
"Why?" Martha asked, folding the manilla folder.
"Been in here the last couple of days. Always just a coffee. Don't think she can afford much else. Looks like a runaway to me, not that it's any of my business." Martha nodded.
"No, it's probably not. Nor is it mine," she stated, packing up her things. "Listen, do you work here every day?"
"Yeah. Why?" Martha handed her a twenty.
"Next time she comes in, let her have a...doughnut or something. Keep the change."
"How do you know I'll do it?" A smile immediately struck Martha's lips.
"I prefer to believe in people," she stated for the first time.
"Yeah, all right," the waitress managed, curious, as Martha packed up and left.
*
"Martha do you have the contracts drafted?"
"Uh, not yet dad." She heard her father walk into her hotel room.
"The clients are waiting."
"Don't you mean you're waiting? The clients have waited ten years for this settlement. Five minutes won't kill them."
"You know Mr Laguna's dying of lung cancer. Maybe it will."
"That's real funny dad." She scribbled a couple more notes down on a legal pad and handed it to him, smiling. "Here you go."
"Thanks honey. Listen, it really is a great profession."
"It doesn't interest me, dad."
"And what, the stock market does?"
"Yeah," Martha replied matter-of-factly.
"What about the boy?" Martha smirked.
"Pete?"
"No, God Martha you've known Peter for seven years. He's no threat-"
"I'll tell him that," she mumbled.
"I mean the other boy. The farm boy."
"Jonathan? What about him?"
"What are his plans?"
"He's home working on the farm at the moment, dad. Don't worry, I'll finish my degree. He understands."
"Does he? I just don't want to see you wasting your life and being pressured into anything-"
"Dad, for your information, I'm the one that came onto him. He hasn't pressured me at all. All right? Now, won't your clients be waiting for their contract? You better get started on editing."
*
Martha was sitting on the curb outside the hotel as the sun set, watching the sky turn a sweet orange-pink. She smiled, sitting for several more minutes before heading to the payphone across the street. She put a dollar in the meter and dialled out, waiting for it to pick up.
"Kent." Martha smiled.
"Hey, it's me."
"How's Texas? Meet any cowboys?" Martha laughed.
"I don't think so. You never know though, they look like ordinarily people."
"You mean...Cowboys and serial killers are one and the same?"
"Guess so. We should pass that onto MPD."
"Hey, it could come in handy next time the killer leaves his horse at the scene."
"How's the farm?"
"Good. We got rain this morning. Everything looks much greener-"
"Already?"
"No, but it seems much greener because everyone's stopped complaining about how brown the land is. How much longer are you there for?"
"Uh...couple of days maybe. I really want to get back to MU."
"It's summer break, Martha."
"I know but anything has to be better than this."
"You could come visit me?"
"I don't think your population would appreciate that."
"Why not?"
"Jonathan, the last time I rang you, you said that Nell's friends had basically put up a picket line down the main street so you couldn't get anywhere without answering some serious relationship questions. You're telling me that's all gone now?"
"Uh...maybe it's not safe for you here, yet."
"Mm, that'd be right. Half the population of Smallville will hate me, the other won't even make an effort because I'm under 21 and can't legally drink yet." Jonathan chuckled.
"Not that far off. Listen I'll let you go. I miss you."
"Miss you too. I'll ring when I get back home."
"All right. Bye."
"Bye." I love you, Martha finished silently as she hung up the handset. She turned, her cheeks pink, and walked out of the booth. She'd decided to go for a bit of a stroll before it got too dark, but hadn't even rounded the corner when the girl from the coffee shop appeared, sitting on a bench at the entrance to a small park. The girl didn't look up until Martha's shadow crossed over her body, immediately alerting her that there was someone behind her, and she started to pick up to run.
"Hey! Don't-" Martha called before she got too far ahead. The girl turned at the voice of a woman, and recognised her as the woman who'd helped to pay for her coffee. They stood watching each other for a moment until Martha smiled, reaching out her hand. "I won't hurt you. What's your name?" The girl walked forward, managing a smile.
"My name's Monica," she introduced. Martha held out her hand and they shook.
"I'm Martha. Shouldn't you be inside watching TV or something? Playing under the sprinkler?"
"I'm not that young."
"How old are you?"
"I'm a teenager. You don't need to know how old I am specifically."
"Yeah but you're in the lower half, aren't you?"
"The middle half. What are you, eighteen?" Martha smiled.
"Thanks. I'm somewhere around twenty, but if you're not going to be specific, neither am I. So come on, how come you're wearing what you were yesterday, and sitting on park benches?" The girl Martha now knew as Monica shrugged.
"I'm not from around here. Are you?"
"No, I'm helping my dad here while he's got some business to take care of. We're from Metropolis."
"Oh, I've never been there," Monica stated.
"Where are you from?"
"Promise you won't tell? I mean, it seems as though I can trust you-"
"Who am I gonna tell?"
"I'm from Mexico."
"Mexico?" Martha exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for my real parents." Martha glanced at the girl with compassion.
"They're not in Mexico?" She shook her head.
"No, I'm adopted."
"Have you found your real parents yet?" Monica shook her head.
"No, I was uh, thinking about calling home...I can't find them."
"Do your mum and dad know you're here?" Martha watched, concerned, as Monica shook her head.
"No, they think I've gone to a friend's for the week."
"Monica, you're young, here by yourself with no one looking out for you. I think you should go home, okay?" Monica sighed, full of emotion.
"I really wanted to find them, you know, to work out who I was." Martha rested a hand on the girl's shoulder.
"You said it yourself. Not having enough money to live was a sign. My guess is that you know who you are." Monica shrugged. "Listen, you have a mum and a dad in Mexico?" The girl nodded. "Well I don't have a mum, I haven't for many years, and I used to think that not having a mother that I could see or touch meant that I was no longer a complete person, but you know I was wrong."
"Yeah, I get your point. Maybe. I'll see."
"I'm sure they miss you."
"Yeah, I know they will." Martha nodded, checking her watch.
"Listen, I have to get back to the hotel before dad gets angry." She reached into her pocket where she found the hotel's card she'd taken earlier that day, out of interest, or bored, whichever way she looked at it. "This is where I'm staying, if you need any help, all right? Room 103." Monica smiled slightly.
"Thanks," she replied softly, pocketing the card. "I'll see you later." Martha guessed that was her standard farewell.
"Good luck. Take care okay?"
"Yeah, I will..." Monica watched Martha as she headed back down the street, and didn't sit back down at the bench until the young woman was out of sight.