Chapter Fourteen
Chris let out a startled cry and ducked to the right, taking himself out of the knife's path. As his attacker started to shoot past him, Chris raised his left hand to chest level. Giving his arm a hard, backhand swing. His fist slammed into the teen's back with a THWAK that seemed to ring through the alley.
Air left the mugger's lung in a whoosh, and he staggered under the force of the blow. But, somehow, he managed to stay on his feet. And to keep hold of the knife.
Chris turned to face the boy. Instead of attacking, he waited, watching to see what the mugger would do. He didn't really want to hurt the kid. Maybe it was the natural pacifism that went with being half whitelighter coming through. (Although a pacifist was the last thing most people would call him.) Or maybe it was because he knew the guy wasn't really a career criminal. Just someone who'd been about to do something really stupid. In any case, if he'd run away, Chris would have happily let him go.
The kid glared at Chris with wide, surprised eyes, as he realized his target wasn't as helpless as he'd thought. But he was really angry now, teeth practically bared in a snarl. And this time, when he charged at Chris, the knife was swinging.
With one hand, Chris grabbed his opponent's wrist, to keep the knife from descending. With the other hand, he grabbed a handful of the kid's shirt.
Chris was stronger than most people would suspect. He couldn't bench press a car or anything. But a teen-aged mugger was another story.
Using the teen's shirt for leverage, Chris pushed up and away, managing to lift the kid a few inches off of the ground. When he came back down to earth, he was careening across the alley, unable to stop his forward momentum. He crashed into a bunch of aluminum trash cans.
Lex took off his jacket and tossed it back into the car. It was a nice day, neither too cool or too hot, so he really didn't need it. And, while he was going to the Talon on business—an informal inspection of the recent repairs—this wouldn't be like a meeting with the conservative board of LuthorCorp. He could afford to be casual.
Closing the door of his car, Lex pushed up the sleeve of his gray pullover.
Suddenly, he heard a yell coming from somewhere nearby.
Frowning, he looked around the nearly empty street, trying to determine where the sound had come from. When several seconds passed in silence, he was ready to dismiss the sound.
That's when he heard a loud, metallic crash.
Not stopping to think, his natural curiosity coming to the forefront, Lex ran in the direction of the disturbance. The noise seemed to be coming from a nearby alley.
Lex arrived in time to see a young man in a knit cap picking himself up off of the pavement, pushing aside several metal trash cans. Snarling in anger, the boy turned, and charged across the alley straight towards…
"Chris!" Lex gasped as he recognized the other young man.
Distracted, Chris glanced in his direction.
And his attacker slammed into him, sending his body smashing into the brick wall behind him. His head hit said wall with a crack.
As Chris fell to the ground, Lex winced. Maybe calling out Chris's name hadn't been a good idea. But Lex didn't have much time for remorse. Chris's opponent loomed over him. And Lex saw that there was a knife in his hand.
Consciousness returned in a rush of sensation. The biggest sensation being pain.
Eyes still closed, Chris groaned.
"Take it easy." A hand came to rest on his shoulder. "You took quite a hit there."
Chris had to agree on that one. His ears were ringing, his head was throbbing, and he could already feel the lump growing on the back of his skull.
Grimacing, he opened his eyes…and really wished he hadn't. The sunlight was like an assault to his aching head, and his vision spun crazily. Moaning, he squeezed his eyes shut again.
"Yeah." The voice was sympathetic. "As the proud recipient of several bangs on the head myself, I know the feeling."
Chris took a deep breath and opened his eyes more cautiously. He found a familiar face hovering over him.
"Lex?"
Lex Luthor smiled. "I'd ask how you're feeling, but I think we've already covered that." He cast a sardonic glance at their surroundings. "You do realize this is the second time we've met in an alley."
"Uh, yeah," Chris whispered. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head. "Where's…"
"Gone," Lex assured him. "He ran off soon after you were knocked out. And I was just about to call for an ambulance when you started to come to."
"No," Chris said, his voice stronger than before. "No ambulance." As he struggled to sit up, with Lex's help, he waited to be assailed by a wave of dizziness, or for black spots to dance before his eyes. But nothing happened. Even the ache in his skull was starting to fade. "I'm fine." He looked towards Lex…and his eyes widened in horror. "But you're not."
The left sleeve of Lex's shirt had been slashed open. The jagged tear revealed an ugly gash just above his bicep. The gash was wide and deep, and bleeding profusely. The sleeve was already soaked with blood.
"You're assailant didn't appreciate my intervention," Lex said. His voice was calm, almost casual. But he couldn't hold back a wince of pain. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is."
"Right," Chris drawled, and sarcasm dripped from the word like honey. Trying to remember everything he knew about first aid, he reached towards Lex's arm. "Well, first we gotta stop the bleeding. Then, you definitely have to get to a hospi…"
Chris stuttered to a stop. For the second time that day, he stared at his hands. But, this time, he was staring in wonder.
Because his hands were glowing.
Lex's mind went blank. For one long moment, there wasn't a single coherent thought in his head. Which was an unusual occurrence for the Luthor heir.
Lex stared at Chris's hands, fascinated by the soft, golden emanating from them.
"Uh, okay," he heard Chris say, almost from a distance. And the younger man sounded as bewildered as Lex felt.
After a moment's hesitation, Chris placed his hands near the knife wound, his palms inches away from Lex's arm. And Lex felt his arm getting warm, his skin starting to tingle. It was an odd sensation. Not painful or unpleasant. Just…odd.
In his right mind, Lex probably would have been alarmed, would have snatched his arm away. But, since he since he was too stunned to move at the moment, he remained still and simply watched. Watched as the wound got smaller and smaller. As the blood on his skin retreated into the slash, pulled back by some unseen force. And the pain Lex had been trying so hard to ignore started to fade.
The experience only lasted for a moment, but seemed to go on forever. Soon, the golden glow vanished, and Chris's hands were normal again. When pulled those hands away, there was no scar, hardly any blood, except for what had soaked into the sleeve. The knife wound was gone, the only real evidence it had ever been there the ragged slash in Lex's shirt.
Lex stared at his arm, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. In some distant, logical part of his brain, he knew he must not look very dignified, but he couldn't seem to help it. And he found some consolation in the fact was that Chris was wearing the exact same expression.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
