CHAPTER SEVEN

"So, you're telling us you're from…another dimension?" Jonathan Kent demanded, expressing the disbelief that was being felt by the rest of his family.

"I know how crazy it sounds," Chris said, leaning forward in his chair. "Believe me. But I think you all know, better than most, that truth can be stranger than fiction." And he threw a meaningful glance in Clark's direction.

Clark tried not to squirm in his chair. He still wasn't comfortable with the fact that Chris knew what he was. But, more than that, he was surprised that the other guy seemed to take the whole thing in stride, like meeting someone from another planet was no big deal.

Then again, he'd just told them he was from another dimension with a straight face. Which either meant he deserved his own TV series, or he thought he was telling the truth.

A long silence filled the room. Jonathan stood near the door, arms folded, shoulders stiff, lips pressed into a stubborn line. Clark could almost see the struggle going on in his dad's mind, as he tried to decide whether to believe Chris or not.

Taking a seat on the living room sofa next to his mom (who looked as shell-shocked as Clark felt), Clark glanced at their guest. After telling his incredible—and nearly unbelievable—story, Chris was now lounging comfortably in his chair, looking completely relaxed. He seemed content to wait for their reaction to what he'd just told them.

Since no-one was actually eating the dinner Martha prepared (except Chris) they'd all gone into the living room, where the young man told his story. He claimed that, after leaving the club his mother owned in San Francisco, he tried to teleport—or 'orb', as he called it—home. He knew something was wrong almost immediately, because the orb felt different, almost painful, and lasted much longer than usual. When he came out of the orb, he had proof. Not only was it day when it should have been night, he was half a country away from where he meant to be.

Finally, Jonathan sighed. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked almost reluctantly towards Chris. "I think I believe you."

"Uh, yeah," Clark said, feeling almost guilty. "I think I do, too."

Martha offered Chris a weak, but encouraging, smile. "So do I."

"Which probably means we're all as crazy as he is," Jonathan informed his family.

It was like the room had been holding its breath in anticipation, and was finally able to let it out. Rather than being insulted by what Jonathan said, Chris smiled with amusement…and relief. So maybe he hadn't been as comfortable and relaxed as he'd seemed.

"I'm a lot of things," he said. "But I'm not crazy. Just…lost, I guess."

"Well, I don't know how your power works," Jonathan said, looking less than comfortable with the subject. From the look on his face, he was trying to keep an open-mind, but it was obviously a struggle for him. In fact, he looked like he'd bitten into something sour, and couldn't get the taste out of his mouth. "The way you described it, it sounds like, uh, orbing as far you did is unusual. But isn't it possible you just took a wrong turn somehow? I mean, another dimension…"

"Aiming for a house in San Francisco and landing in Kansas is a pretty big wrong turn," Chris said with a slight smile. "Still, I did want to check things out before completely jumping to the 'other dimension' conclusion. So, the first pay 'phone I got to, I tried to call my family. And…" Here he paused, and Clark saw a shiver race through his body. "My aunt, Prue, answered the phone."

"I'm guessing that's unusual," Clark said.

"Yeah. Especially since, in my reality, Aunt Prue died a few years before I was born." This time, his shiver was more pronounced. "I only knew her through pictures and stories, and a couple of home movies. So talking to an alive and well version of her was…interesting."

Clark could relate. After years of thinking his biological father was dead—or just didn't want him—communicating with his birth father had been an experience. Like talking to a ghost. Or having one walk over your grave.

"Wait a minute," Martha said, as if something had just occurred to her. "You said you've never been in Kansas before. Which probably means you didn't get your powers from the meteor rocks. Which would definitely mean"—she hit Chris with an accusatory frown—"you lied to me."

Chris seemed to shrink a little under her gaze, like someone used to being scolded. Clark was just glad he wasn't the one his mom was frowning at.

"I didn't exactly lie," Chris began, looking contrite. "But, since you seemed to think my powers came from these meteor rock things, I decided to let you go on thinking it." When Martha's frown became more intense, he flinched. "Sorry. But it seemed easier than trying to explain the truth."

Clark felt tension he hadn't even known he was feeling drain away. Bringing up the meteors always did that to him. Intellectually, he knew the damage they caused wasn't his fault. But, because they arrived at the same time he did, he couldn't help feeling some guilt. Not just about the people who died the day of the meteor shower, but about those who'd ended up with special abilities because of them. He'd never met anyone who'd had a great life because of those powers. In fact, most of them were pretty screwed up.

Now, here was someone whose powers had nothing to do with the meteors. And, in a strange way, it was kind of a relief.

"So," Jonathan began, "what is the truth about your powers?"

"Well, they sort of run in the family," Chris said. "My parents, my brother, my aunts and I all have them. As far as anyone knows, it all started with my great, great, however-many-more greats, grandmother, Melinda. Unfortunately, she developed her powers at a time when anyone who could do what she could do was bound to be accused of being a witch, and probably burned at the stake. Which she was." He gave Martha an apologetic glance. "So you can see why the Halliwell family motto has kind of become, 'Never tell strangers about your powers.'"

Martha and Jonathan nodded understandingly. If anyone knew about keeping family secrets, it was the Kents.

For his part, a nice little shiver raced down Clark's spine. He doubted anyone would burn an alien at the stake in this day and age, not that it would hurt him if they did. No, they'd be more likely to go for an examination table in a nice, sterile lab in a secret location somewhere. And, if they had some Kryptonite, their scalpels could do plenty of damage.

"There has to be a way home," Chris said suddenly. He was staring at some point in the corner, and almost seemed to be talking to himself. "If there was a way for me to get here, there has to be a way for me to get back. I just have to find it."

"And what do you intend to do until then," Martha asked kindly, any anger she felt towards Chris long gone. You have no place to stay, very little money, no family to turn to."

"It won't be a problem." Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he looked down at the floor. "I've been in worse spots than this, and I've always managed to work something out."

Martha frowned disapprovingly. Then, without saying another word, she simply turned to stare at her husband.

Jonathan caught her look, and seemed to know exactly what it meant. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue. He even opened his mouth and started to speak. But, instead, he let out a resigned sigh. Maybe he was remembering that Chris had saved his wife's life. Or that Chris knew Clark's secrets, and it would probably be better to keep him close, where they could keep an eye on him. Or maybe he was thinking, 'What if it were Clark in Chris's place? Would there be anyone there to help him?' But, for whatever reason, he turned to Chris and said, "You can stay here, in the guest room. But I expect you to pull your weight around here by helping with chores." His firm tone brooked no argument.

"Of course," Chris said with a grateful smile. "And thank you."

"You're welcome," Jonathan said, his gruff voice making it clear he wasn't one hundred percent happy with the arrangements. "Now, let's go finish our dinner. I'm starving."

(TO BE CONTINUED)