Shonnia22: Thanks! You're right, I do put a bit of drama in the Kent household; and I usually put Chloe through hell as well; but that's only because she can take it;)Lol, Casey is a stubborn character, you'll get to get inside of her head soon enough. She goes after Noley.

The fallen sky: Lol. I don't know about it being a good explanation as to why Casey's such a jackass; like I said, it's pretty simple. In fact, I'm drawing on an experience I had with my own younger sister. I think I told you before that she was a bit like Casey; but not so much. Probably because I'm not as timid or mild as Moira. But just recently I found out why she was always a little resentful toward me and my sister. She wrote it in a letter to our mother and told her that it was okay if I read it. When I read the reason, I was beyond shocked. I couldn't believe that was the reason she was such a donkey all those years. It was kind of stupid to me. But whatever; it obviously was a big deal to her.

Ah, Chloe's motherly pride. You know, I think you're right about me using my relationship with my mother to draw from for the relationships between Chloe and her children. My mother was extremely possessive with us. Thinking back on it, it probably wasn't so healthy; but I don't know any other way to write mothers as mine is the only mother I have. But in this instance, the idea of someone else cutting her daughter's hair was sort of like this problem my mom had with us, me and my siblings, when we were younger. Children like to have their way; so when they want something, and one parent's answer is no, they go to the other parent. Sometimes the other parent says yes; other times, the other parent tells the child to ask the other parent. In a way, I think Chloe's thoughts follow along the lines of an instance where she told her child "no"; and her daughter asked her other parent; and the other parent, who Chloe has never met by the way, said yes; making Chloe out to be the "bad parent." I don't know how else to explain it.

And yes, Noley's still went to school. She's going to have a very eventful day! I can't say why of course but I hope you like it. As for Moira's secret, her precognitive power, it only worked once. I mentioned it in passing in one of the previous chapters. It was a one-line sentence; nothing too elaborate because Moira's thoughts were bouncing around because she was in too much of a panic. But Moira mentioned only seeing the future once, and that it probably hadn't happened again because the last time resulted in a traumatic experience for her and as a coping mechanism her brain must've kept her from doing it again. Sort of like how Clark could only fly when he was receptive to the idea, or unconscious, or not himself. The power lays dormant within himself, but it's still there, ready to be used when he accepts himself and his destiny. At least, that's why I thought he couldn't fly; his supposed fear of heights despite the fact that a fall wouldn't have hurt him.

Why did Zod choose Moira? Choose is a good word for it; and I'll get into that later; let's just hope no one tries to hang me for shaking up the Superman story as we all know it. This particular story is AU after all;)

Jeremy Shane, Anonymous: Thanks! Hope you're not disappointed;)

Dizzy78: Lol, it would take a lot to break Chloe down completely. And I'm glad you're receptive to the idea of a chapter from Clark and the rest of the Kents.

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"Make sure you listen to little Kal-el."

It's what he, my daughter's boyfriend, just said to my youngest daughter before getting into a small silver Porsche. He didn't say it loud enough for anyone to hear. He stooped down in front of Noley and whispered it to her; which meant it was still loud enough for me to hear. He was still loud enough for everyone to hear; everyone except for my wife that is.

I have a feeling he knew I'd be listening; and the thought makes me want to march up to his expensive car and rip the door off its hinges. He wanted me to hear just how much respect he doesn't have for me when he called me little; and he wanted me to hear him call me by my birth name. He knows who I am. I know this already.

I wasn't sure of it at first. At first, I was only certain he'd guessed about the 'green rocks' as most people refer to kryptonite. My son gave me the heads up via text message; a simple message comprised of ten words.

'Guy in our kitchen knows how to make Lizzy sick.'

Instantly, I knew he meant kryptonite. It's the only thing that can make my daughter "sick." And since there was a guy in my kitchen who knew about the way kryptonite affects my daughter, then I needed to get home immediately.

He could've been dangerous.

It was an emergency.

"You should savor that smile Moira. I don't think you'll be doing it again anytime soon."

My wife; and she sounds angry. Good. I was afraid she wouldn't be angry enough for this. She's never angry enough with Moira for anything. I understand why; and it's not like Moira's a problem child and needs a lot of discipline. At least I didn't think she was this morning before her boyfriend showed up.

I will admit that I thought so last night when she ran away and got away with it. I was so angry about that; about how she gets away with so much so easily. Even small things, just because they're small, she could get away with them by simply apologizing and promising her mother that she won't do it again. It's always been this way, though it shouldn't have been.

I should have said something to Chloe about it before last night; but I couldn't ever find the right moment or words to use. I don't even think last night was the best time to mention it now that I think back on it. I was too angry and frustrated at the time. I yelled at her. I told her that she can't play favorites; and that if any of the other kids ran away the way Moira did, she wouldn't have hesitated to discipline them. Then I mentioned Moira's hair being cut. It's not a sin to get a haircut, not in the least; but we just told her that same morning that the answer was no. It was very bold of her to go against that, as well as disrespectful to our wishes. I had more to say, but I couldn't get another word out. The look on my wife's face stopped me. She was hurt. More than hurt actually, there was something else; but I couldn't quite understand what I was seeing for a few seconds.

Then it hit me. Guilt. I nearly smiled. I thought I'd gotten through to her. I thought she understood where I was coming from. I thought she finally realized what she'd been doing all these years; but I was wrong.

"She remembers," Chloe whispered.

It took me a while to get to the "who remembers what" question. Something else was wrong with my wife, and I realized I'd come to the wrong conclusion when she told me that my daughter remembers Chloe not wanting anything to do with her the day she was born.

"I called her a thing," Chloe whispered brokenly.

I had nothing to say, so I left. I told her I'd be back; that there was an emergency I had to take care of; and I left.

I lied to her.

I should've comforted her. I should have told her that everything's alright. I should've told her that it wasn't her fault, lots of mothers say things they don't mean when they're giving birth naturally; but I didn't say anything.

I'd honestly forgotten about the way Chloe acted toward Moira the day my oldest children were born. It was hard not to forget considering the way she treats Moira now.

So how the hell did Moira remember? I realize that she is my daughter after all; and because of that I expect her to be able to do some pretty amazing things; but I don't even remember that far back in my past. I don't remember my birth parents, or Krypton, or things, buildings, homes, falling down around me as my parents placed me in a ship destined for earth. Those are all tragic images that could be buried into a young infant's subconscious until something triggers the memory.

And I've had plenty of triggers. I've watched buildings being destroyed. I've seen meteor showers, tsunamis, earth quakes, tornadoes, and hurricanes destroy homes; towns; people. I've seen bombs, and wars, and terrorists use planes as weapons. I've seen it all, yet nothing helped me to remember the very first taste of a calamity I'd ever experienced.

So how could Moira remember something Chloe said about her the day she was born? The question bothered me and I came up with only one answer; one that I doubt is the answer; one that doesn't even make sense. And it's that Moira's a girl; and as a girl she's more sensitive. It could be that hearing her mother reject her was even more painful to her than all the destruction I've witnessed. Maybe. Like I said, it's not a very good explanation. It's not even a theory I would ever mention out loud for the cows to hear, but it was all I could come up with at the time so I shook it off and roamed around aimlessly. I needed to run into someone doing wrong pretty soon; that way I would feel better about lying to my wife. I guess I figured it would be less of a lie if I could actually find that emergency I told her I had to take care of.

No such luck. Not immediately as least. I wasn't surprised. On any other night, I would have to leave my family to take care of someone else's family. It's only fitting that the night I needed an excuse to get out of the house America chooses to sleep peacefully.

I kept going though. There was no doubt I'd find something. I had to; because I couldn't go home. I couldn't face my wife. Not after the things I said to her. I hurt her when I pointed out the fact that she seems to favor Moira. I implied she doesn't love her other children as much. I should have known better than to say that. Chloe loves them all. She really does; and she's a great mother. I don't think she even realizes how much closer she seems to hold Moira, or how much more leeway she gives her than our other children. It's not her fault. It's the nightmares. And those are all my fault. She has those because of me; because I hurt her. I hurt my wife. If it weren't for me, and the disappearing act I pulled on her sixteen years ago, I know she wouldn't have ever had that nightmare about Moira disappearing in the first place.

I read her journals. Once. I couldn't read them more times than that. I could barely get through them the first time around. She suffered when she lost me. She was afraid, she was depressed, she was lonely, and she was angry all the time; but she was still hopeful that I'd return to her. And I did. Four months later. I came back just in time for Chloe and our friend, Lana, to give birth to my children.

It was three days later that the first nightmare occurred; and it had been a frequent occurrence since. I knew what was happening. Chloe was afraid I'd leave again. She admitted it to me once, and that was it. She never said anything about it again. But that doesn't mean she wasn't thinking about it constantly.

The nightmare was nothing more than her subconscious fears jumbling all together and manifesting into a tragic experience for her; losing her child. I held her every time, and I brought our daughter in for her, just so that she could see that her baby was fine. It went on like that for years; seven, almost eight, years in fact. I wasn't surprised by that either. Moira was seven years old in every nightmare; every single one. I believe I'm the reason for that too. I believe it was a subconscious symbolism on Chloe's part. Seven years is how long my wife and I had known each other before I disappeared.

My theory proved correct when Chloe stopped having the nightmare just a few weeks before Moira turned eight.

At least I thought it had been proven correct until she had the nightmare the night before last. It was a shock for me; but what was more shocking for me was how easy it was to get back into the "nightmare rhythm." I held my wife, I kissed her, I comforted her, and I told her it was just a dream. I told her our daughter was fine; but she still asked for her. I knew she would. She always does; and I was prepared to have to go get her; but I hesitated. Moira's not seven years old anymore; and I can see that she's struggling to grow up a little. I can see it every time she tries to go out somewhere, whether it's just to take a walk or go to the library, and Chloe sends one of her siblings with her. Moira never says anything to her mother; but I see her shoulders slump slightly. She's fifteen, gonna be sixteen in a few weeks. She doesn't want to be protected as if she's a child anymore. She wants to be allowed to grow up.

Could that be the reason she went out and got a boyfriend; because that's a grown up rebellious thing to do to get back at her overprotective parents? It would explain why she picked him. She just latched on to the first boy she saw; and he would be it because she spends so much of her time with him, and she's known him so long.

I sigh heavily. For eight years my daughter's known that boy in the small silver Porsche.

I keep my eyes on the car as it gets further and further away.

Nothing particularly bad happened; nothing life threatening at least, but I still feel as if this is an emergency and I subconsciously memorize his license plate number. Without making the conscious decision to, I've decided to go after him as soon as I'm finished here. My wife told me to let him go; but I can't. I won't. I need to talk to the boy who isn't afraid of me without her holding me back.

The boy who isn't afraid of me. It sounds as if I think too highly of myself; that I believe everyone should fear me. But I don't. I just didn't, don't, like the way he looked at me. Even if I wasn't superman, I'm still Moira's father. He should've shown a little more respect, or humility toward the man whose daughter he's been dating, and that better be all they've been doing,for the past year. He should not have been so comfortable. Especially not while knowing that I could easily put him through the ceiling because Moira obviously told him that I am indeed Superman.

That made me nervous. It still makes me nervous. Did the boy believe I wouldn't hurt him? Is that why he didn't so much as flinch at the sight of me? Was he testing me; seeing if he could rile Superman up? Or did he know that he couldn't rile me up. Maybe he believed I wouldn't dare expose myself to him, therefore allowing him to get away with murder. It makes sense in a way. He knew I wouldn't do anything to him in front of my family; in front of my children. Especially not in front of my eight year old daughter; the one who seems to have taken to him in her own little way.

Make sure you listen to little Kal-el.

Or was he challenging me? He wanted to make sure that I know without a doubt that he knows who I am. He displayed no sign of fear, because he knew I would never kill him just to keep my secret. Kal-el doesn't kill; he puts people in cells, bad people only; and the boy knew it. Unless Heath committed an actual crime, I had to let him go. I couldn't hurt him. I wouldn't hurt him just because he knew my secret.

I ball my fists together. What was Moira thinking when she told him? There's a good chance she's put our family in danger. Her family; her mother, her brothers, her sisters. She chose that boy over them?

Then I hear them. Screams. More than a dozen people; more than fifty people. Too many people screaming screams so powerful and panicked stricken, I can literally feel them vibrating in my chest. And now there are sirens; police sirens, ambulance sirens, fire engine sirens. They're headed toward the screams. The screams that are all coming from the same direction.

An Emergency. One far more important than my own.

I swear. In front of my wife; and in front of my oldest daughter. I swear.

They blink at me; their jaws drop; they freeze.

It's not a vulgar word by any means. Just a simple "damn it;" but the stunned expressions on their faces are testament to just how often I've sworn around them at all.

It lets them know something's wrong. Something big. Something other than the current problem at hand; which has everything to do with my fifteen year old daughter leading a double, no, triple life. I lead a double life. Outsiders know me as either Clark Kent or Superman. But to my family, I'm both one and the same. It is a secret my family keeps from others, both for their protection and ours. We don't keep secrets from each other. At least not ones of this magnitude; and especially not ones my daughter is too young to keep in the first place.

And it's in the midst of discovering all this, discovering Moira has secrets and has trusted outsiders with our secrets, that an even bigger crisis arises. I have to leave. Have to. During a crucial moment in my household, I have to leave because others need me.

I have to go; but I don't want to. It's never happened to me before. I've never not wanted to run to the aid of those in need of me. I am Kal-el; the last son of krypton; sent here to protect the inhabitants of this earth; but my daughter…I just feel like something's wrong. Like I'm missing something important. I have to be, because nothing's adding up; not with Heath, not with Moira, not with Heath and Moira, together, as a couple, who've known each other for literally half their lives.

I give my head a mental but decisive shake before bending forward a little to kiss my wife goodbye. To my daughter, I give a firm frown and tell her to stay put before I run off. I don't miss the way she inhales a lung full of relief. It makes me want to turn back around, tell her she's not off the hook, drag her with me so that I can keep a good eye on her just in case she's up to something; but I don't. I tell myself that I'm blowing things way out of proportion; that I'm just a little on edge because I don't like my daughter's boyfriend. That I'm just a little on edge because my daughter has a boyfriend and he just so happens to be an arrogant, self-centered, disrespectful, selfish little bastard with an ego the size Manhattan. God, if I wasn't Superman I would've run over to him and just-

Concentrate. I need to concentrate on the screams; on the people who need me. Not him; not my daughter; and not that fact that she loves the prick.

Love.

She doesn't know the meaning of the word. Not if she loves him. She feels strongly for him; that much I have no choice but to believe. She wouldn't have told him she loves him in front of me and my wife if she didn't think she did. Eight years is a long time to know somebody and not care for them to a certain degree. But I refuse to believe my daughter could love someone like that.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't realize something is wrong immediately. I'm in the hospital; Metropolis General in fact. I've rushed passed the lobby and waiting rooms. I paid them no mind. They're practically empty now; and they're not where the screams are coming from. I've rushed into the darkest hallway. I'm on my way to the fire.

There's a fire. Of course there's something wrong with that picture. Fires don't belong in hospitals; but it takes me a while to realize there's something wrong with me.

I'm sweating. It's the heat. I can feel it; and it's so intense it makes me gasp. I instantly regret having such an involuntary reaction to the heat because now I can't breathe. I'm choking, coughing; desperately in search of clean air. I've inhaled a good amount of smoke and it's affecting me.

Blue kryptonite.

It's somewhere around here. It has to be. I'm human.

I don't search for it; for the blue kryptonite. I don't have the time; and I don't have the vision. Not just x-ray vision; but sight in general. I'm not blinded; but I may as well be. The smoke is heavy and nearly impossible to see through; but I keep going.

I keep going even though my eyes burn so bad that my body involuntarily produces tears to assuage them. It doesn't help. In fact, I think it makes it worse. On top of the burning, and the trouble I'm having trying to see through the smoke, my sight has now been blurred; but I keep going.

I can hear screams, and I try to ignore the ones coming from outside the building. They're who I heard originally; loved ones of the sick, hurt, and/or dying. They're the ones who got my attention; and they're the reason I'm here; but now I wish would quiet down. It's not their fault; but I'm human. I can't hear the screams I need to hear right now with them making so much noise out there; but I keep going.

I keep going until I hear a few cries for help further down the hall. They're faint, and I can't tell where they're coming from. I can barely hear anything but what sounds like the building falling down all around me as glass, metal, and the very walls shatter, bend, and crumble at the fire's request; But I can hear myself loudest of all. Every breath I try to take, but can't. Every cough, every dry heave, every wheeze, every gasp, every heart beat; I hear it and I make a decision.

I cover my mouth with one hand and I raise the bottom of my cape above my head with the other. And then I turn back around and head back in the direction I came. I can't help anyone like this.

I stumble until I make it into the waiting room; and already I can feel myself getting stronger.

"Dad!"

I freeze. I'd recognize that voice anywhere; but what is it doing here? Why isn't it at school?

"Dad! Where are you?"

"Casey!" I yell back.

She doesn't answer; but I hear her cough.

Blue kryptonite.

She's human. She can't hear me.

I focus my sight on the direction I heard her voice come from and I immediately see her running down the same hall I'd just come out of. I must've run right past her.

I run back in after her. I'm prepared for the heat and the smoke this time, so it's not as bad as before. Plus, my daughter's in there. I don't feel a thing; just the need to get her to safety.

She's not too far in; but considering she's not supposed to be there in the first place, she's far enough.

"Daddy, help!"

It's not very loud. I'm back to not being able to hear as well as I'm normally able to; but I do hear her.

"Casey!" I shout back.

She doesn't answer me and I don't see her. I should have run into her by now. Why haven't I run into her by now? And why isn't she answering me?

I keep going; and I keep yelling my daughter's name. I keep looking for her, but it's taking more time than I feel I have to find her. Did I pass her already?

"Dad?"

It was a barely audible sound but I heard it; I know I heard my daughter's voice. She's somewhere close by.

Coughing. I can hear coughing. It sounds as if it's coming from my left.

I struggle to make my way toward the sound; and when I finally do, I find my child; as well as someone else's child huddled together on the floor; waiting for me.

I stoop down in front of them, and I offer my hand to my daughter; but she doesn't take it.

"Here," Casey coughs out as she pushes the child into my arms. It's a girl. I can tell by her shoes. I can't see her face. She's wearing my daughter's jacket over her head.

"She's too heavy for me," my daughter explains when I hesitate.

I frown at her. I don't think she understands that my hesitation was because I was wondering why she hadn't gotten up yet.

"Let's go," I rush her. My words come out harsh; but I don't mean them that way. It's just really hard to breathe.

She sighs, but it comes out as a cough. A really bad one.

I quickly wrap an arm around her and pull her to her feet.

She lets out a loud yelp and I drop her.

I nearly drop the child I'm holding in my other arm as well.

"Casey?"

"I think it's a sprained ankle," she cuts me off before coughing a little more. "I'm not sure. I've never had one before; but I can't walk on it."

"Try," I urge her while reaching my hand out to her again.

There's a cough on my shoulder, and I'm reminded of the other child. We have to go. Now.

I pull Casey up again; and I ignore her when she cries out. It hurts now, but as soon as we're away from the kryptonite she won't feel a thing. She'll be completely healed. She just has to go on for a few minutes. She can make it.

But she doesn't. She takes a few steps, and she tries to use just one leg; but it just doesn't work. She pulls out of my arms and refuses to take another step.

I get a little angry with her. We can't stop. We don't have the time.

"Casey," I cough. "We're almost there."

She doesn't answer me at first. Not until we hear the sound of something shift and crash behind us. It could have easily been an empty hospital; but I begin to urge my daughter on as if the ceiling is falling down on us.

She still doesn't want to move; she just keeps telling me that it hurts really bad.

I pick her up. We don't have the time to argue about this. I move as fast as I can; but the combined weight of both my daughter and the other child is almost too much in my current condition.

I nearly fall a few times; and then there is a time when I do. I fall.

The child doesn't seem to notice. I'm beginning to think she's unconscious; but Casey notices. She screams. I've fallen on her leg. The one that hurts.

I apologize to her before getting back up straight away and lifting the child up with me. I lean over Casey, and I wrap my arm around her but she pushes my arm away.

"Casey!" I admonish as harshly as I can; but my voice barely registers as a wheezing whisper.

She coughs into her hands several times before pointing at me, then to the child, then down the hallway.

She's suffering from smoke inhalation; and she needs oxygen in her brain right this second. She's gone crazy if she thinks I'm going to leave her here.

"Come back after," she coughs out.

I ignore her; and I reach out to her; but she still refuses to come with me. She's wasting time.

"Faster," she says while shooing me away.

She's telling me it would be faster to get out of here if I carry the girls out one by one. I can honestly say that I don't see the logic behind that. It would be faster if Casey could just get up and endure a few minutes' worth of pain. Just a few minutes.

I'm about to pull her up with me when I hear her say she's sorry. And I've still got a hold on her arm when she tells me that she's just not as strong as me.

It's not only her words that stop me; but the tone of her voice. She seems genuinely disappointed in herself for not being able to handle what I'm asking of her.

Maybe I'm asking too much.

I kiss her forehead; and I tell her to stay put; that I'm coming right back for her. She nods her head in understanding and I give the jacket she put over the other child's head back to her. I watch her put it over her head and I use my cape for the child I'm taking care of.

I don't find my way out as quickly as I thought I would. It was a much longer walk than I remember it being.

I leave the hospital. I have to because there's no one in here right now and I can't just leave the child in the waiting room just because the air is cleaner. So, I walk outside.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" I hear a man shout. It takes me a few moments to realize he's referring to the child in my arms.

The man thanks me a dozen times before, while, and after snatching the child out of my arms and holding her against himself. He kisses her just as many times as he thanked me.

It's not until I hear the girl call him dad, and I see a few paramedics take over and check her over that I leave. I know there are people out here; doctors, police; but I had to make sure that they didn't just let him walk off with her before she got checked out, or even he got checked out. There was no guarantee that the man actually was her father. One can never be too careful.

I slip back inside, and without hesitation I go into that hallway again for the third time. My daughter's in there. She insisted I go on without her; that I take the child to safety first.

Elizabeth. Elizabeth was the child's name.

As I walk on, I think about my own Elizabeth. My Lizzy.

I left the house angry with her; I left without kissing her goodbye. I didn't do it on purpose, or as a kind of punishment. I just didn't do it. I just told her to stay put. And then I left.

I feel guilty about it. I'm not supposed to leave angry with any members of my family. It's sort of one of the house rules because I never know what's going to happen to me when I go out. I could leave and never come back. That's the price I have to pay for leading the life of a superhero.

I'll apologize to Moira for that when I get home; and then we'll have a nice long talk about her boyfriend and to where her loyalties should lie.

With that decision made; I put all other thoughts away and focus on my other daughter. Casey.

I call her name. She answers back. She's still pretty far; but at least she can hear me this time. I call her again, she answers immediately, and I continue on toward the sound of her voice. It's a life or death version of "Marco Polo."

I finally make it to her and I let out a breath of relief.

She's on the floor, exactly where I left her. And the jacket is still over her head, offering her a little protection from the smoke.

"Casey."

At the sound of my voice she looks up, and at the sight of me she begins to crawl toward me on her hands and knees.

Instantly I'm reminded of the time before she could walk; the time when she was just an infant and had to crawl in order to get around. The time when she was my baby; and the image makes me want to protect her even more.

I lift my daughter into my arms. She's heavier than what I'm used to; but right now she could weigh a ton and I'd still be able to lift her.

"I've got you baby," I whisper to her.

I doubt she hears me. Her face is buried completely in my neck.

I stumble my way back out of the dark hallway. And as soon as we're out she gets down. Her leg is just fine now.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her once I'm sure she's fine.

The look she gives me, it's almost as if she'd forgotten what she came to tell me. Like she'd forgotten to tell me something really important.

"Dad, Lizzy ran away again and Mom's freaking out."

I blink at her.

What does she mean Moira's gone again?

"I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you right away. I was just thinking about the girl, and then I hurt my ankle, and I just forgot to tell you."

I let her talk and apologize; but I'm not listening. Moira's gone again. She wouldn't run away again would she? Not after yesterday.

"Did she say anything before she left? Did she mention where she might be headed?" I interrupt

"I was still outside"-

"Weren't you listening still?" I interrupt that sentence too.

Casey nods her head, ashamed of having been caught eaves dropping; but I could care less right now. I need whatever information she can give me.

"She said that her friend was in trouble."

"Who, Maddie?"

Casey shakes her head. "No, some girl named Lana; but I don't know who that is."

She doesn't have to know who Lana is. I know who Lana is. My wife must be a wreck; it sounds as if her nightmare has come to past; but I can't go to her now. I have to stay here.

"Go home, now" I tell Casey.

"What? But Dad, Lizzy's"-

"Go home and watch your mother. Make sure she's safe."

Her eyes go wide. She knows something's wrong now. I can only imagine what I most look like to her. Usually I'm calm and cool. Right now, I'm frantic and the most worried I've been in many years.

"Make sure she's safe," I repeat firmly.

Casey nods her head in agreement.

"Good girl," I tell her while pulling her into a fierce hug. I kiss her on the forehead; and I tell her that I love her.

"Dad?"

She looks scared, and confused. And I have a slight dilemma. Should I tell her everything is going to be alright? Or should I prepare her for the worst?

"Try to get cleaned up before your mother sees you," I tell her while pointing at her soiled clothing. "I don't want her to worry."

"Maybe she won't even notice," Casey says lightly.

I give her a look that says now is not the time and she apologizes.

"Are you coming home after you finish this?" She asks me while raising her arms, gesturing toward this…mess.

I shake my head and tell her I'll come home when I find her sister.

"Okay," she says softly before disappearing.

I walk outside and I can hear little snippets of what the news reporters have to say. Some are reporting that all calls made to the hospital are being forwarded to landlines elsewhere so that people are still able to call the hospital and ask about their family members.

A few others report that a few sections and wings of the hospital have been isolated. That's good to hear. It means there are still some safe parts left in the hospital. I also hear someone say something about

I can also hear the commotion around myself; the gasps, the flashing lights, the people wondering what I'm doing out here and not in there.

I ignore them. I've learned that not everybody agrees with me and my ways; and I know that not everybody likes me. So I ignore the spectators and the quick to condemn and I concentrate on what I have to do.

I fly above them. I fly to a place above the hospital. A place where I won't be seen by anything other than birds and planes; and I call Oliver Queen.

He picks up immediately, and I tell him about the kryptonite in the hospital. No greetings or pleasantries. Manners aren't my number one priority.

He hesitates for just a second before telling me he's on it. He's realized what this means. The hospital patients were nothing but a means to an end. Someone's out to get me.

Someone who knows my weakness.

I focus my sight and look through the roof and down into the hospital. This had been my plan all along. I was going to look for patients from up here and then either send one of the members to their aid or try my best to get to him or her. It would be easier to get to them after knowing exactly where they were. At least that's how I would have to operate until the kryptonite was taken care of.

But right now I don't focus to find random strangers. I'm looking for somebody specific.

I don't see him. He's gone; but I do hear about him from the news reports below.

Lex Luthor has risen; he's singlehandedly caused the injury of nearly a dozen people and the death of one; and he's escaped.

My wife had been right all along.

I want to leave. I want to search for Lex and my daughter. It doesn't matter in what order because I have a feeling that if I find one I'll find the other; but I can't go.

I can see a man staggering around down there. He's so lost and confused that he's literally going around in circles. I drop out of the sky; and I run back into the hospital. I know exactly where to go.

I get him to safety and then I go back to the roof. I stare down at the roof, searching for people trapped inside the hospital still.

I do it over and over again; for complete strangers, until The League arrive and can handle everything without me.

~~{(O)(O)(O)}~~

"Jor-el!" I yell.

I usually don't do this. For a long while, I've been calling the voice in my fortress "Father." And I usually don't come here first. This is usually one of my last resorts.

Not today.

"My son," the voice says to me.

I want to cringe. I am not his son. He is not my father. He's just a voice; an artificial intelligence with the thoughts and wills of the man who was my father; my biological father. Because if this truly is my father, I would have to reevaluate the conclusion I've drawn about him being misunderstood by a teenage boy who's destiny was so great he couldn't begin to fathom the bigger picture causing him to unseeingly reject the man who could see it all laid out before him like a map.

"What have you done?" I answer him, cutting straight to the chase. I don't stop there, he'd just ask me what I'm referring to, and I have no time to waste with small talk.

"What have you done with my daughter? Where is Moira?" I shout as if I'm accusing him of coming into my home and taking her personally.

"She is not here, my son," the voice booms from above me, around me, beneath me. I'm hearing it as I've always heard it. Loud and seemingly coming from nowhere.

Not today.

It comes from everywhere. It suffocates me; reminds me that despite my many abilities, there is one who can break me down, make me feel small, take from me. He's done it more than once; punish me for disobeying; take things away from me; and not just small things. Things I feel I need to survive; my powers, my memory, my father, my everything.

My daughter.

He can take away my daughter. He says he hasn't; but I hope he has. If he hasn't, I don't want to imagine where my daughter could be. What she could be going through because of who she's more than likely with.

"Where is she?" I ask him.

No answer.

"Father?" I beg

"I do not know, my son."

I swallow deeply at his words; and hold my tongue because I want to yell at him, tell him that he's lying to me, and that he does know where she is. He has to. He knows everything.

"She is my daughter," I tell him.

"I know who she is," he replies.

"She is your granddaughter," I remind him; just in case he doesn't understand the connection, just in case he doesn't remember the day I brought her to him because of that connection.

He'd asked for her. Much like Chloe's often asked for her; with a simple, "Bring her to me."

"Bring who to you?" I'd asked him. I had three hers after all. My wife and my two daughters, Moira and Casey

He asked for his eldest grandchild then; he asked for my Moira. I should've known something was wrong then. Between my wife's constant nightmares about her; and my biological father's interest in solely her; I should've known something was wrong. But I didn't. I chalked it up some kind of Kryptonian ceremony taking place. He'd asked for his oldest grandchild after all. Don't most societies bestow special gifts and/or responsibilities upon the first born?

The visit was brief. For me anyway, I brought my daughter to the fortress without Chloe's knowledge. I stole her; I had to steal my own daughter from school because I was so afraid of what Chloe would do if she knew Jor-el had asked to see Moira. Especially at that age; especially because Moira was seven. All of her nightmares were centered around her seven year old child being taken away from her. It was a very tough year. Chloe wouldn't let Moira out of her sight, my sight, or the other kids' sights. There was just no way she would've let me take her.

She'd kill me if she ever found out. I'm ashamed to admit that to this day, she still doesn't know. I never told her. I could never, can't ever, get up enough courage to tell my wife that after I brought Moira to the fortress to see Jor-el, he told me to leave…without her. Just go home. He wanted time alone with her.

I hesitated. She was just seven after all. What if she couldn't find her way back home? What if I never saw her again? She was not the baby at the time. Casey was the youngest and so had baby status; but I had noticed that Moira was a bit more fragile than the others. Maybe she was that way because Chloe treated her like glass, maybe it was just who she was; whatever the reason was, it made me uncomfortable leaving my little girl alone with Jor-el. She was still a baby to me; my baby.

And she didn't want to stay either. She hid behind me, held on to my leg the whole time I talked to my father. She wouldn't even let go when I tried to turn and face her.

"Daddy, don't make me stay here," she pleaded with me.

I knew what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to tell her to be strong; that everything was going to be fine. I was supposed to reassure her, make her feel comfortable and confident. But how was that supposed to work if I wasn't strong? How was that supposed to work if I wasn't comfortable with what was being asked of me?

"Fear me not, child," Jor-El's voice would've boomed over mine had I found words of comfort to speak to my child.

Moira shook a little, a shiver running up her spine. She wasn't cold. She was invulnerable to the cold; but fear, she could feel fear. I was her father. I was supposed to keep her from being afraid. I was supposed to take her home; keep her safe; but I didn't. I told my daughter she'd be fine.

I couldn't chance defying Jor-el. No good ever came of it.

But I've never been able to forget the look on Moira's face when I told her to stay put. It was the look of betrayal and disbelief; a look that let me know she'd never trust me to protect her again.

I tried to make it better. I tried to make light of the situation, I told her it would just take a second, that she'd even have time to go back to school; and that afterward I'd take her to get ice cream. Just me and her.

She didn't bite; and I stopped trying. I kneeled before her, putting myself at her height.

"Can Daddy get a goodbye hug and kiss before I leave?" I asked her.

She shook her head at me; denying me. I can honestly say a thousand pounds of kryptonite dropped onto me from a thousand miles away would have hurt less.

I had to tell myself that she didn't mean it. She was a sweetheart. And on my way home, I replayed the goodbye kiss she'd given me and her mother just before she got onto her school bus that morning. I did it over and over again, reminding myself of what a sweetheart my little girl really was.

And I let myself remember it now.

We were all outside, Me, Chloe, Moira, Johnny, Andrew, even little Casey.

The bus came, and as soon as the driver opened the door, Chloe bent to kiss them, starting with Jonathan. But he turned his head and let out an embarrassed "Mom," before nodding his head at the driver.

I could see a little hurt flicker across her face, but she recovered quickly and she laughed it off with a, "Aw, too old for goodbye kisses?"

Andrew and Casey followed behind Jonathan, and they too refused to get kissed in front of the driver, figuring if Jonathan was too old, then so were they.

Moira was last, and by the time it was her turn to say goodbye, Chloe had already figured it was just a goodbye hug deal for her too, but then Moira surprised her. "I'm not too old for goodbye kisses Mama," she said before leaning up on her tiptoes and puckering her lips the way that only small children do.

Chloe smiled as if she'd won a million dollars before bending down and pressing her lips to our daughter's.

Moira grinned, almost shyly, back at her mother before taking a few steps toward the bus and turning right back around and heading for me. I'd already hugged her goodbye while Chloe was saying goodbye to the others; but she came back for me anyway. She wrapped her arms around my thighs because she wasn't tall enough to wrap them any higher, and she stood on her tippy toes, as well as my brand new work shoes, before puckering her lips up for me as well.

I just fell in love with her for the 28,959th time. I picked her up high, and tossed her a little. She squealed, and she laughed before I could get my goodbye kiss; but the bus driver tried to ruin the moment by honking his horn.

It didn't work. We ignored him; well, Chloe told me the bus driver was waiting, but Moira and I ignored her too. That is until Chloe smacked me on my rear and told me that the more time I spent playing with Lizzy, the less time we'd have to play with each other before I had to go to work.

I put Moira down the very second the word "play" left my wife's mouth; and I swatted my daughter's bottom playfully as she made a break for the bus.

I was about to turn around and take my wife inside so that we could play; I'd grabbed her hand and everything, but I heard my daughter call for me. I looked up at the bus; it was already showing its back to me. The driver wasted no time once my daughter boarded; but I could see her. She was at the back window, waving, grinning, and blowing kisses for me and her mother.

I remember turning to Chloe with a huge grin on my face; and I remember the way she turned to me with a grin equally as big on her face while pressing her hand against her chest. Moira always did things to the heart. Melt it, fill it, warm it, break it, shatter it into a million pieces.

"Yes, Kal-el. She is my granddaughter," Jor-el says after a lengthy silence. A silence so loud because I'd filled it with the memory of my daughter. Almost as if I need them because I won't be seeing her again.

I shake my head fiercely. I will see my daughter again. I won't go home without her. I can't. I can't face Chloe without her; because this is my fault. I should've listened to her. All these years of dreaming this would happen to our family. I should've listened to her.

"Then help me find her, Father," I ask with such clarity, no one would be able to tell that my throat has closed; that I'm constantly having to fight down the sounds that threaten to bubble up and spew from within me.

I swallow once again when I don't get an answer. I can feel my temper rise. If he's testing me, I will fail soon. I am mere seconds away from releasing all the anger I feel inside of me and destroying this place with my bare hands.

"I cannot," he answers finally.

Cannot? Or will not? If the answer is will not; then I've lost any form of reverence I've ever felt for this…being. If the answer's will not, then I truly and unwittingly made a deal with the devil.

"What did you do to her?" I ask almost quietly; but I have no doubt he will hear me.

"I have told you"-

"No," I interrupt, trying not to be frustrated about him misunderstanding me once again when I don't have the time nor patience to repeat myself.

"The day I brought her to you; what did you do to her?"

He doesn't answer. I have a feeling he's not going to answer. I don't know if it's another one of his tests or trials or if he's just being an ass. I just know that I want an answer.

"I brought her here," I tell him. I don't know why. Am I hoping I can goad him into giving me something tangible to work with? Am I thinking out loud? Hoping that if I can remember all the details of that day, something will click into place, something I hadn't thought about before.

"I left her here with you," I ruminate loudly, almost accusingly.

Still no answer.

"And when she came back, I asked her what you wanted with her," I finish. Hoping he'll take it from there because I honestly don't know what happened next. Her answer had been "nothing." She told me he did nothing to her; that just wanted to meet her; that's all. I felt uneasy about that. If that was the case, why didn't Jor

-El ask for all four of my children? Why did he only meet with Moira?

I asked her a few more times, but she insisted that she was fine; that her grandfather wasn't as scary as she thought he was.

Still, I wasn't satisfied by the answer, so I tried a different approach. I asked her what had happened. What was said. What tone was used when what was said was said. I asked her a million little question designed to get me a full picture of what had taken place between her and Jor-el in the fortress; and still, all I could gather was that Jor-el just wanted to see her for himself, and that there was a bright light.

"Clark!"

I hesitate before leaving the fortress and going to my wife. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't go home until I found my daughter; but the way my wife just yelled my name…there's trouble. More trouble than my daughter being missing; more trouble than Lex becoming Zod, again, and going missing as well.

The way she yells my name lets me know that I should've kissed my daughter goodbye.

~~{(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)(O)}~~

A/N: I realize Clark's emotions and feelings toward his daughter are kind of everywhere but I figured most parents who are in these kinds of situations have erratic thoughts. And maybe even a few flash backs;)