A/N: In this fiction, the events of Delete haven't happened. So pretend you know nothing of Molly and her emails because our characters don't.
Clark came to a stop just outside the doors of twelve, Fulton Avenue. The building was gray, windowless, and indistinguishable from its neighbors with nothing but the numbered address identifying it. His expression was emotionless and his eyes were vacant as he read the numbers and walked through the doors.
The entryway had two hallways leading in opposite directions; he took the left one and followed it around a corner, reading the numbers next to each door along the way. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. He stopped outside of door thirteen and opened it. He stepped inside the empty room and when the door closed, two red lights on a small panel in the wall blinked then a clicking sound of the door locking was heard.
As the lock made its last click, a single piercing pain shot through Clark's forehead. He put his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, "Ahh!" Then as quick as it came, the pain was gone and he rubbed his temples as the ache subsided. He took his hands away and blinked to clear his blurred vision then he looked around the room. Wait…this wasn't his bedroom. Why wasn't he in his room?
There was a loud beep followed by a continuous clank. He spun around in his spot, trying to decipher the noise and switched into x-ray vision then quickly switched it back, "Lead…" he mumbled, "this can't be good."
The clanking grew as two panels on each wall began to fold into themselves, revealing a sickening green glow. He instantaneously felt the kryptonite and groaned as he hunched over with his arms folded over his stomach. As the panels folded smaller and the glow grew, so did the pain. He wasn't able to stand for long and fell to his knees. His muscles began to loose function and he wobbled on his shaking legs before falling onto his side. He kept his arms wrapped around his middle as he began to feel nauseated and heated from the close proximity of such a large amount of kryptonite.
An echoed pounding in his ears drowned out the sound of a door opening near him and the footsteps that followed. A pair of shiny black loafers stepped in front of his vision. He turned his head up to look at the shoes owner only to be greeted with a harsh kick in the chest, sending him onto his back. He let out a gasped moan as his breath was knocked from him. A pair of hands grabbed his collar and roughly pulled him from the floor. His attempt to fight back resulted in weakly gripping the arms holding him and trying to pull them off. His vision was fuzzy and he couldn't focus enough to see the identity of his attacker.
He had already felt disoriented, but now, after a few more punches to various areas, he couldn't tell up from down. The room spun around the blurred figure in front of him until he received a hard unyielding blow that mercifully knocked him unconscious.
Martha had spent the morning calling Clark's friends, asking if they had heard from him. She didn't want to alarm them so she pretended that he had left his cell phone at home and she needed to speak with him. It was partially true but she didn't want to worry them over something that could be nothing so she lied to their questions. Clark had only been missing for a few hours and she kept telling herself that he would walk through the door soon and everything would be a' okay. But it wouldn't be okay; she knew it, she felt it. No matter how many times she said he'd come back soon, she knew he wouldn't. There was a voice in the back of her mind screaming that she was fooling herself. The voice was urging her to search every inch of Smallville until she found him. To call the police and get every available hand to search the woods and fields for any sign of him.
The voice was her panic.
She'd heard that voice before. Several times. Every time there was a new meteor mutant in town and Clark went to save the day. Every time he was near or hurt by his only true weakness. Every time he missed curfew and she sat up waiting and wondering. Then, the two separate times he disappeared much like this. The first was horrible but they knew why and where he had gone. Lana had seen him leave. The second was worse, much worse, and all too similar to this day. Clark vanished without a trace and she was left alone to search.
She felt so grateful that this time Jonathan would be by her side, because she knew… she just knew this wasn't going to be easy.