"Thank you again for taking care of Taylor." Daniel repeats for the fourth time since arriving at the Barnes' household a few minutes ago. "We're new to city life and- well, still adapting to how things are here."

"You mean you just left your children without supervision like that?" The man, Alan, asks, his tone less than impressed.

"Not exactly. Everyone knew everyone in our old town, so we let the kids run around the place and just kept an eye out."

"Sounds… idyllic."

"Anything but." Daniel laughs. "Too many towns going dark lately. Me? I don't care, I'd have stayed. But Taylor? I can't let something happen to her."

"Hmm. Well, take care of her then. Brockton Bay isn't a place to leave your kids out and about. We could recommend you a reliable babysitter." The man turns to his wife, silently asking her to take over.

"She's a daughter of a friend of ours, high-school aged. I'll write down her mother's number. Just a moment." The woman dashes off before Daniel has an opportunity to say anything, leaving him with his mouth open.

They seem like good people, Alan and Zoe Barnes. Most people do so long as it doesn't cost them. He wonders what their limit is.

"I should mention." Alan speaks up after a moment's silence. "Taylor took a knife from our kitchen to play with it."

It takes a considerable effort of will not to sigh and rub at his eyes in exasperation, and put on a suitably sharp expression of concern, instead.

"She what?"

"She said it was for cutting sand. Makes sense for a kid, I suppose. Knives are for cutting. Almost gave me a heart attack, though."

"I'm sorry about that. I'll have words with her. About quite a lot of things it seems."

The Barnes patriarch nods in acknowledgement. Neither of them says another word until his wife comes back with a slip of paper containing a number Daniel will never use.

"Thank you," he says nonetheless. It's only proper. "But I think we've infringed on your hospitality enough. Again, I'm sorry for the trouble."

"It wasn't trouble, really." Zoe cuts in before her husband has the opportunity to suggest otherwise.

It's another minute before he can politely extract himself from the conversation and finally get inside his old, beat-up truck, where his wayward daughter has been waiting in her baby seat for some time now, silently observing the many conversations he might've had, no doubt.

He says nothing, and neither does she. Not until they're a few minutes' ride away from the Barnes household.

"You know I'm upset with you, right?"

The words go unanswered as they bump up and down the patch-ridden streets of Brockton Bay.

"I asked you a question."

He can see Taylor fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, going still every now and then as she's wont to do when looking for an answer among the multitudes she could give.

"I know," she speaks up near to a minute later, voice small; having found no way out of the coming conversation.

"Then why did you go anyway?"

"...I didn't look."

He can't keep the scowl off his face. His daughter's overreliance on her gifts will be the end of them both.

"You shouldn't need to look to know better, Taylor. We're in a city now, you can't see everything in advance. There's too much going on, we've talked about this."

"But nothing was going to happen! I checked! I checked lots!"

"Nothing that you know of." He corrects her. For all her power she is still only a child, with all the pitfalls of childhood. "How far did you look, a week? A month?"

If the girl seemed reticent before, she might as well be mute now; squirming, looking anywhere in the car but at him.

"Taylor."

"...A day."

Daniel doesn't immediately stop the car, if only because of needing to first find a spot to pull over to. Neither does he immediately say anything, taking another minute to calm down first, lest he would later regret what left his mouth.

"A day?" He asks for confirmation once he kills the engine, seatbelt undone and facing his child.

"It's-" She finally looks up, her eyes, all of them, finding his. "There's lots of things happening in the city. There was a mister on the way who was mugged, so I asked him for the time so he wasn't."

"You talked to a strange-"

"And! And a car crash that happened and two people were very hurt, so I stood on the crossing for a second so it didn't."

It's all Daniel can do to put his head in his hands.

"And another mister was-"

"Enough."

The silence which once again falls between them is only more poignant with the noise of the other cars speeding past their own.

How should he tackle this? How can he? One should always be willing to help his brothers and sisters in need, and so he can't scold his daughter for helping, even if it's a different sort of help that the people of Brockton Bay need.

"The issue isn't what you did after leaving home," he says at length. "The issue is that you left it in the first place. I know I didn't specifically ask you to stay home today, but I shouldn't have had to. And I think you know that, too."

Taylor draws in on herself, her eyes once more downcast. It's as clear an answer as can be.

"...I didn't have to stay inside on Sundays back home."

A shadow of an ache blossoms in Daniel's chest. A hideous thing of selfishness and lacking resolve. He must do better. He knows better than to doubt.

"But we're not home anymore," he reminds the girl with steel in his voice. "And we need to be careful. People here are different. Lost. If they knew what you are, they would hate you."

"Emma wouldn't hate me!" Taylor protests, her conviction ringing in his head like a bell.

He takes a moment to compose himself, and to shake off his daughter's certainty.

"Maybe not." He acquiesces. It's true. The girl might not yet be poisoned with hatred, being only five years old. "But her parents would. And they would call the heroes, and never let you meet again."

For a moment, Taylor looks ready to argue. A moment exactly long enough for her to look and see the truth of his words. Conflicting emotions war within Daniel's heart at her crestfallen expression. Pride that she would still assume the best of people, and frustration that she doesn't yet know better.

"Look at me." He waits until she does - properly, with clarity to her eyes - before he continues. "Do you see why we have to be careful? We need to act like everyone else, even if we aren't, because they don't know that, and we can't let them know that." He pauses to gather his thoughts. "People here don't let their children out without supervision because the city is dangerous, you saw it yourself, and the people you helped were adults! They don't know each other, they can't, there are so many people here. So they fear each other instead. And sad as it is to say, there's a good reason for that."

"Because of the villains?"

"Because of the villains, yes. And because they don't understand there's nothing to be afraid of in this entire world but their own wickedness."

Once more a silence falls between them, but this time it's a comfortable one. Or, at least, one devoid of the tension cloying the air. Taylor looks away and out the window, not in shame or guilt, but contemplation. Something for which Daniel is more than willing to give his daughter time to mull over at her own pace.

He starts the car again. He might no longer have a job, but that's no reason to dally. Especially when wasting time will clue his daughter into the fact her stint just cost him employment. Well. It shouldn't be too difficult to find another, given most people look for Sundays off instead of Saturdays. It's for him to worry about these things, not a five-year-old. She has much more important things to think about.

"Take right. There's- lots of cars?" Taylor speaks up.

Or maybe not.

"Traffic jam," he reminds her. She ought to remember by now. There are jams in the city every day. Some are unavoidable, but Taylor's directions still cut the commute to a minimum.

He lets a few minutes pass in this fashion, letting himself be guided by his daughter, before continuing where they left off.

"Do you understand why you need to stay home on Sundays?"

"Uhuh."

"Taylor."

"I understand." She corrects herself. "But- couldn't I just stay with Emma instead?"

Daniel snorts a joyless laugh.

"Young lady, you are not being rewarded like that for running away from home. You're grounded for the week, by the way."

"But I- she was-" she cuts off, no doubt looking for the right words to convince him. Too bad there are none that could do the trick. She soon realizes this, letting out a miserable groan. "But after?"

It's a thought, Daniel supposes. It would take a weight off his heart for leaving his daughter alone in the house. It's not that he worries for her safety on her lonesome while there. If a bomb went off in the block, Taylor would fare much better than the building itself. The problem is she's not used to being alone, as today has demonstrated. And though he may not see the future like Taylor does, he has foresight enough not to hire a babysitter even if he had the money for it.

"That would depend on Mr. and Mrs. Barnes."

"They said- they'll say yes!"

Right. Of course she already checked. She wouldn't have raised the question in the first place, otherwise.

At least she remembered to actually ask, this time.