A/N: So here it is. I really think this is the last one guys. Well I hope it is anyway; but before you start reading, I'd like to warn you that this story is full of OCs. And to make it worse, the chapters are going to alternate between Chloe and her daughter's POVs. So if OCs are not for you, I'm warning you in advanced;)
Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Smallville; but just in case you don't, I don't own Smallville or its characters.
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"Jonathan Gabriel and Moira Elizabeth Kent," I yell at the top of my lungs.
I won't deny that I get a slightly perverse thrill out of yelling my children's names like that. It's almost like yelling at my parents, whose names were Moira and Gabriel; but right now, my seven year olds are in trouble. And they know it.
They're late.
They're supposed to be in by six so they can get ready for dinner, and it's now five minutes passed the hour.
"Yes Mom?"
"Yes Mama?"
I try to hold in my smile as my children appear in front of me. Jonathan has decided he's too old to call me any two syllable names that mean mom; and Moira, I don't think she'll ever stop.
"Where have you two been?"
I turn a little to wash my hands in the kitchen sink; but keep an eye on them. As I obviously should've; I can see them both exchange nervous glances at each other and it makes me nervous.
And mad.
I know what their silence means.
Miami.
I'm going to absolutely kill them. Not my children; their godfathers.
What was I thinking when I let Arthur Curry and Bart Allen be the godfathers of my children? Why didn't I stick with Oliver, my original and saner choice?
I could have ignored Bart's huge hissy fit.
I didn't have to listen to him whine about how unfair it would be to make Oliver my children's godfather. I didn't have to listen to his reasoning about Oliver already being their "uncle" so to speak; even though he was just dating my cousin at the time.
But then, he kept whining about how he was never going to have any kids of his own because I was the only one for him; and since I was already taken…
So, I caved. I wanted to believe that he was just joking; but I did pick up on a serious note or two, and it made me feel bad, so…I did it. I agreed to let him be the godfather of my children. And surprisingly, Clark agreed as well. He said, "It might teach him how to be responsible."
Bart Allen.
Responsible.
Yeah; right.
But it didn't stop there. A.C. found out, and he chewed me out thoroughly because he said it wasn't fair. He pointed out the fact that there were two children, and he didn't think Bart should get to have both of them. I rolled my eyes at him. They were acting as if my children were free puppies to take home; not human beings who already had parents to take care of them.
I called Bart over. He arrived within seconds; then I broke the news to him. I told him he had to share with A.C.
A.C. grinned victoriously and chose Moira to be his goddaughter immediately. It's the red hair; The Little Mermaid was one of his favorites. Sometimes he even calls her Ariel.
Bart became Jonathan's godfather by default; not that he cared. He was just happy to have one of my kids as he explained it; and I ignored the innuendo. He was always saying something inappropriate to me; and he didn't care if Clark was around or not.
He did surprise me though. He did become a little more responsible once he became a godfather; but he is Bart Allen after all; and as soon as my children learned how to run, and by run, I mean run, he took them to Miami, to Canada, to Mexico, both the old and the new. He took them everywhere; but Miami is their favorite place to go. That's were "Uncle A.C." lives.
They've been there so many times, they can probably get there with their eyes closed.
"If you two went off to Miami again I swear…" I trail off
'I'm going to kill your godfathers,' I finish as a thought rather than under my breath. They'd have heard it otherwise; and then they would've panicked.
They love their godfathers.
"It's my fault Mama," Moira pipes up quietly. "I was gonna go by myself; but Johnny didn't want me to get hurt."
I nod my head in understanding and tell Jonathan to go upstairs so that he can wash up for dinner. He's not the one in trouble. He was just protecting his sister. I'm always telling him to watch over her. He can protect her so much better than I can; and sometimes, he can protect her better than Clark can.
"Am I in a lot of trouble Mama?" my daughter asks solemnly.
I let out a deep sigh. She's changed a lot. She used to be this colossal, blindingly, bright ray of sunshine. Not like a hyper ball of energy, just this happy little girl who smiled so big, she lit up any room she entered.
She used to smile at everything and everyone; oh, and laugh. God, she used to laugh at the silliest things.
Not now. Not anymore. She's so quiet; and secretive, and wary, and guarded; and I know why. But I can't seem to help; no matter how hard I try.
Her friend died six months ago. A sweet little girl by the name of Dawn.
It was an accident; a hit and run.
But Moira blames herself; she says that she should've been there.
She says that she could've saved her.
She's so much like her father.
"Lizzy, I don't want you running off without telling Mommy or Daddy where you're going first. You know that," I reprimand; but my heart's not in it. How can I possibly yell at her when she's like this?
"I'm sorry Mama; but look who I found!" She grins excitedly.
I watch the way her eyes light up and I turn toward her, giving her my full attention and a grin of my own. It's been so long since she's smiled like that.
But then she turns around; making a brief beckoning motion with her hand, and I frown slightly. I had been so entranced with her smile that I forgot about what she just said.
'Look who I found.'
Who could she have possibly…?
I gasp as she steps into the kitchen.
Lana Lang.
This is a dream. No, this is a nightmare. I had the first one fifteen years ago.
Fifteen years ago.
I should have realized this was a dream immediately. Jonathan and Moira are fifteen years old; not seven. And I have other children; three other children. Casey, Andrew, Noel.
So this isn't real. It's just a dream.
A very bad dream.
A nightmare; but it doesn't matter to me. I still grab my seven year old daughter's hand and pull her to me.
God, I haven't dreamed this in nearly eight years but I still remember what's coming next.
"You stay away from us," I tell "Lana".
In my nightmares, she turns into Lex, a nightmare in himself, and zips off; taking my child with her…him…it.
"Mama, Lana's my friend," Moira tells me with a frown.
She always tells me that.
I ignore her and pull her closer to me.
Lana's not anybody's friend. Lana's dead.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
'Wake up Chloe….come on…Chloe wake up! Please!'
"Chloe."
I open my eyes to see Lana smiling at me sadly.
"I'm not dead, I'm real," she tells me.
She always tells me that too.
"Please don't take her," I beg.
I can't help it. I know this is a dream; but I just can't help it.
I know she's going to.
"I know I may have given birth to her; but Moira is your daughter. I'm not trying to take that from you," she answers while taking a step toward me and reaching a hand out to touch Moira's hair.
"Stay away!" I yell in alarm.
I know what's coming next. It's what always comes next. She tells me to ask her what's going on; she tells me to question her alleged death further; she tells me that I should be wondering about Charlie.
But I already did that!
Fifteen years ago, I did all of that!
At my insistence, Clark checked Lana's grave for me. She's was in there. Charlie, or whatever his real name is, however; was cremated.
I'm not missing anything.
They're dead.
"Mama, Lana's my friend!" my daughter repeats.
I turn her around to face me, holding her firmly by the shoulders and locking my eyes with hers.
"Lana's dead," I tell her. "I need you to run away, as far and as fast as you can. Okay baby?"
"No, she's my friend," Moira pouts back.
I don't have the time to argue with her; it's almost time.
I look up at Lana.
"You're dead!" I shout at her.
If I say it enough times, maybe I'll wake up before it happens; before she takes her.
Lana smiles at me. It's not a friendly smile and I hold my squirming daughter closer to me.
I already knew it was coming; but I still cringe when Lana turns into the devil himself, Lex Luthor.
"Oh god," I whimper before closing my eyes tightly.
Here it comes.
'Wake up Chloe, wake up please. Please, please wake up. This isn't real. Lex is still in the hospital. He's still in a coma. This isn't real.
This isn't real.
It's not; but I still tighten my grip on my daughter when Lex tells me that my husband made a deal with the devil; and I still scream out a horrified "NO!" when he tells me he's come to collect; and I can still feel my heart being ripped from my chest when he snatches my baby out of my arms; and I still wake up abruptly, gasping for breath with tears and sweat drenching my body.
"Shh Chloe, it was just a bad dream," my husband whispers.
He's holding me, soothing me; telling me over and over again that it was just a nightmare; but it doesn't help. Nothing will make me feel better until I see her for myself.
"Bring her to me," I choke out.
Clark sighs. He knows exactly who I'm talking about. We have three 'hers'; three beautiful, precious 'hers;' but of all my children there's that I've ever dreamed of being taken away from me.
Moira.
"Chloe, Lizzy's fine. It was just a dream," Clark tries to reason with me.
It just doesn't work.
I need to see her.
"Clark, please," I plead softly. "Just bring her to me. Please."
Clark sighs deeply before getting up out of bed. I can understand his hesitation. Moira hasn't slept in our bed in nearly five years. It was pretty hard to wean her off of it; but he really shouldn't fear any kind of relapse. She's fifteen years old now. If anything, she'll be embarrassed when morning comes.
About a minute later, Clark walks back into our room; and he has her. Literally. He's carrying her because she's still asleep. I smile. She's got a little of Lois in her. My daughter can sleep through anything.
He lays her down beside me gently, and I suddenly feel the need to kill my husband.
There are tears on her face; and they haven't dried yet. They're fresh.
"I thought you said she was fine!" I hiss.
"She is fine," he answers calmly. "She just had a bad dream…just like you; and you're fine," he answers.
I don't respond to that. I did tell him that I'm fine.
"Did she call for me?" I ask instead.
"Chloe,"-
"Yes or no Clark. Did she call for me?"
"Yes hone, she called for you; but Noley calls for you too sometimes; and I've heard the others call for you a few times as well. They're fine. All of them are fine."
I sigh. He's probably right.
No, he is right.
I close my eyes when he leans over our daughter to kiss my cheek.
"Happy?" he whispers.
I shake my head and tell him no.
He frowns a little before sighing, and I let my eyes dip down to his lips before meeting his eyes.
Then he smiles at me; a genuine smile of relief and understanding as he leans in and kisses my lips softly.
"Happy now?"
"Yes," I whisper honestly.
He kisses me once more, and I tell him that I love him.
"I love you too," he tells me before motioning for me to go back to sleep and lying downto do the same.
I lie down but I don't go to sleep.
I want to; but I don't think I can.
I've got so many questions. Questions about Lana, Charlie, the time Clark spent in the phantom zone, and so many other little things.
I'm still missing something. Something important. I have to be.
Why else does Lana keep visiting me? Why else does Lex keep telling me that my husband made a deal with the Devil; and that he's come to collect? And why does he keep taking my daughter? I've got five children. Five.
Why does he keep taking Moira?
"Mama," Moira whimpers quietly; and the sound of her voice pulls me out of my deep thoughts immediately.
"Shhh," I whisper before wrapping an arm around her.
Immediately, she buries her face into my chest and wraps her arm around my waist.
I chuckle softly before kissing her forehead and closing my eyes.
It's almost as if she's seven years old again.