Title: Tools of the Trade
Category: Smallville/The Listener
Genre: Humor/Drama
Ship: Chloe Sullivan/Toby Logan
Rating: PG
Prompt: #01 - Bang
Word Count: 545
Summary: When Toby finds himself face-to-face with death, he sees he's not the only hero around.

Tools of the Trade

He shouldn't be surprised when the gun comes out, aimed for his chest. His hands are up in a sign of surrender, but his head is searching for a way out of this, to subdue the guy who thinks this is the only way out. This happens a lot; comes with the job, he supposes. Except this isn't his regular paramedic gig; no, this is him playing hero on his own time. Again. It's gotten to be a habit lately; he hears the call and he answers. He can shut it off when he needs to; a curl of his hands, fingers closing, and the connection is lost. He can breathe again, live like any normal guy. But he doesn't do it often; he knows that this is a gift and if he has the means to help people, he will.

But sometimes, his help isn't always appreciated. So the guy waving a gun at him isn't unexpected; but he'd really like not to get shot. So Toby searches his mind, his eyes moving to and fro as if he can physically read the man's thoughts. They come at him in jumbles of words and images.

He knows too much… I-I have to do this… Oh god… Forgive me…

His finger flexes against the trigger and for a second, there's calm. Toby thinks this just might be it; maybe all of his helping ends with a good deed gone wrong.

There's no bang but a thud and an absence of pain. He's not falling; he's still breathing. No bright light to be seen.

Opening his eyes slowly, his brows raise. The guy who'd been pointing a gun at him is now laying on the dirty ground, arms spread eagle and his weapon haphazardly hanging from his hand.

He looks around, confused. Did he kill himself? There was no blood.

"You know… If you're gonna run around spilling secrets at people you hardly know, you might wanna bring some kind of defense with you," a feminine voice drawls from behind him.

He turns quickly, finds himself staring at a petite blonde woman with an amused smirk curling her lips.

"Uh… I…" He was reaching out to her, searching in hopes she might give him a good reason for her to excuse his odd behavior. But he got nothing. No words to go with that unspoken smirk and no images to complete her thoughts of him. She was empty.

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry… Who are you?"

"Chloe," she introduced. "Just your average citizen with a tranq gun…" She snorted. "He'll be fine… Might have a headache, but it's better than he deserves."

His eyes widened. "Did you say tranq gun?"

"I didn't stutter," she replied, with a shrug. "Whatever you're doing, just a suggestion… Empty-handed and naïve makes you an easy target." With that, she tossed him her aforementioned tranquilizer gun and then she was off.

"Well… Wait!" he exclaimed, chasing after her.

But as he stepped around the corner of the alley, she was gone.

Staring down at the silver weapon in his hand, he frowned. It wouldn't kill them but it could save his life in future. Whoever she was, she'd just given him a handy tool for his trade. Maybe he had a hero of his own.