Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

u/ActuallyUndead • 3 hours ago

AITA for not wanting to clean the BASEMENT?

My (14M) parents (45M and 45F) are leading researchers in a hyper-specific field of study. As a result, they are not able to access the equipment they need at places like universities. And they refuse to work under “fascists” like LexCorp or Wayne Enterprises. So instead they have spent mine and my sister’s (16F) whole lives turning our basement and rooftop into places where they can conduct their research. (Rooftop is usually for equipment testing and the basement is more for their biological-related studies.)

Here’s my problem. A couple months ago I had a really bad accident in the basement lab. I brought my two friends over to show off what my parents do, and things ended very badly. It was dumb, and I shouldn’t have done it, but I’m also 14 and there’s literally nothing to do in my small town. The accident was so bad that in hindsight, I really should’ve been hospitalized. But, again 14, I was scared to tell my parents and hid it from them until I started to get a little bit better. They still don’t know.

The things in the basement are highly radioactive. Usually it’s not enough to harm a human, but ever since my accident I’ve been having allergic reactions to the things they keep down there. It varies depending on how bad my exposure is. (Like walking past something vs cleaning up a chemical spill.) So sometimes it’s just an itchy rash, other times it’s a burning pain in my lungs that makes it hard to breathe.

Ever since my tenth birthday, it has been my chore to tidy up the basement. (My sister gets the attic/rooftop) And I’m supposed to do so at least once a week. It’s not very hard work (throwing out broken beakers, disposing of chemical waste, wiping down the countertops and floor, and tidying their research papers) but I REALLY don’t want to do it. I’ve been having really bad reactions lately, and I don’t want to spend hours super uncomfortable and dealing with bad memories.

My sister (who knows about the accident) offered to clean the basement for me. Our parents found out and got really upset with me for trying to “pawn my chores off to (sister)”. When she asked if we could instead swap chores, they said no and that it was the “principle of the matter”. They were really, really upset with me about it. And all four of us ended up getting into a yelling match.

Basically that I had to clean the basement no matter what. I refused and promptly got grounded until I clean the basement. No seeing my friends, no phone, etc. etc.

My sister thinks I’m justified to refuse, and I really don’t want to apologize and just clean the basement. But my parents are really upset with me about it.

AITA for not wanting to clean the basement?

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:

It’s been my responsibility to clean the basement for four years now, and my parents don’t know about the accident. So I can’t really blame them for being upset at my sudden refusal to clean the basement.

__________________________________________

Loathe as he was to admit it, Clark had a certain…predisposition to seek out drama and gossip. It was a trait that made him an excellent reporter, in his humble opinion.

It was also the reason why he was aimlessly scrolling through r/AITA in-between editing his latest article.

Clark hummed, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. He looked down at the mug, arching an eyebrow at the liquid. For all the money that the Daily Planet raked in, they hadn’t improved upon their coffee quality in the years since he first began working there. Truly a tragedy. He raised the cup to his lips again, looking up at the screen before him. He clicked on a recent post that seemed innocuous enough.

He also knew that the innocuous titles often had the juiciest stories. So, Clark began reading with the intention of fulfilling his desire for non-supervillain drama.

His eyes darted across the screen, brow furrowing the further he read into the situation. Clark set his mug down on his desk, a frown forming on his face.

A child had written this post. A child, not much older than his own son, who seemed to be down-playing the amount of danger he was truly in. To say that the situation the boy described spoke of significant parental neglect was an understatement. The further into it Clark read, the more concerned he became for the child’s well-being. Radioactive biohazards? Homemade laboratories? The author (or ‘OP’ as Jon would say) was describing a situation not unlike those of Gotham’s finest villains.

Clark frowned at his screen, falling deep into thought. As a rational adult, he had reason to find the post…concerning. And the dozens of replies calling for the boy to seek out a “safe adult” or “call cps” shared his sentiments. Clark Kent could do nothing about a random child somewhere in the world who lived in a dangerous situation.

And, as much as it ate away at him, neither could Superman. He’d spent the better part of two decades masquerading as a superhero and trying to improve the state of the world.

Posts like this reminded him that the fight was never, ever going to be finished.

He folded his fingers together, resting them on his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. If only he knew where this boy was, if only he knew who this boy was. Maybe then he could make a difference.

Who are you, Reddit user ActuallyUndead?

Where are you?

Chapter Text

u/speedsterSimp •  5 hr. ago

Why can’t you tell your parents about your accident? Maybe they’ll understand why you don’t want to clean the basement. NTA btw.

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 5 hr. ago

They’re kind of aggressive when it comes to the subjects of their research. I’m worried that if they knew I was affected by it, then they’d be aggressive towards me.

u/NotSoGoLucky • 5 hr. ago

Are your parents usually aggressive towards you?

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 5 hr. ago

No! Sometimes I get caught in the crosshairs when they’re shooting their inventions, and that can hurt a lot. But they’re not really aiming at me.

_______

u/OliverQueensLeftTitty • 5 hr. ago

Huh?? Radioactive? What do you mean by radioactive? You’re joking right? That can’t be safe for children! Absolutely NTA!

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 5 hr. ago

Nope. 100% serious. They deal with a lot of radioactive isotopes and chemicals. It’s kinda seeped into our whole house. Sometimes the food comes to life lol

u/OliverQueensLeftTitty • 3 hr. ago

Okay that last part HAS to be a joke.

________

u/WonderWOWman • 4 hr. ago

NTA if this is real… You said your accident was bad enough for you to be hospitalized? And your parents didn’t notice? There’s no way this is real, that’s some serious child negligence if it is.

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 4 hr. ago

I wouldn’t say my parents are negligent…they’re just eccentric and really into their work. Sometimes they don’t notice small things like that. My friends saw the accident and really wanted me to go to the hospital, but I didn’t want my parents to find out. And I didn’t want to worry them.

u/SundaySundaes • 3 hr. ago

You’re describing some serious neglect. How has no one called CPS yet???

________

u/poTAYtopoTAHto • 4 hr. ago

Absolutely, 100% NTA. Your parents not only expect you to clean up after them, but to clean up their toxic, radioactive messes?! That’s so wrong! OP I hope you can get to a safe place because clearly your parents have no regard for your safety.

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 3 hr. ago

You think so?? It’s kind of always been this way, I didn’t think anything was wrong… it’s just chores, ya know? I don’t think it’s all that serious.

u/BruceWaynesBabyMama • 2 hr. ago

Oh sweetheart. You are so far NTA. Just from what little you’re saying this is an incredibly unsafe situation… I can’t imagine how bad it must actually be. A child should NEVER be cleaning up chemical waste. Do you at least have protection when you’ve cleaned in the past?

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 2 hr. ago

No, I’ve never had protective gear. My parents wear these hazmat suits when they’re working with the stuff, but my sister and I don’t have any.  I usually wear rubber gloves though!

u/BruceWaynesBabyMama • 2 hr. ago

Just rubber gloves??? Oh honey… if your parents can recognize the danger enough that THEY need protective gear, then they absolutely know it’s too dangerous for you AND your sister.

_________

u/SacrificialLamb • 2 hr. ago

NTA! Wow! Wtf!! How are you even typing this out though???

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 2 hr. ago

Oh… My best friend gave me a spare phone in case of situations like this. They don’t like not being able to contact me haha

u/RedDeadRedhead • 1 hr. ago

…Sounds like your friends see how dangerous your living situation is…
NTA

_______________________________________________________

Refresh. Edit article. Refresh. E-mail contacts to schedule interviews. Refresh. Read through Tony’s article and offer advice. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Nervous energy had settled in Clark’s mind, each update from Reddit user ActuallyUndead caused further tension. It was becoming increasingly clear how dangerous this anonymous child’s living situation was. The complete and utter disregard from his parents where it concerned his safety. His sisters safety. Clark mustn’t overlook the girl; there were two children in this situation.

And one had already been injured enough to require hospitalization due to their parents’ negligence. Even if the boy hadn’t sought the treatment he likely needed.

It was rare for a man like Clark to feel so incredibly…powerless.

It was incredibly humbling.

He didn’t care for it .

Clark refreshed the screen again, a small frown on his face at the lack of update. By now it had been roughly five hours since the initial Reddit post was made. Since then, the responses had become less frequent but increasingly concerning. The last response being a few minutes after Clark initially discovered the thread, over two hours ago.

He tapped his fingers lightly against his desk, every moment of contact making a dull thudding sound. A metronome to his spiraling thoughts.

ActuallyUndead was really, very good at responding in a way that answered questions, but didn’t give out any helpful information. Sure. There was more than expected, but none that would narrow down where or who the child was. Not in the insanity of the world they lived in.

Clark sighed, leaning back in his seat and lifting his gaze to the far distant wall of windows. The shafts of early afternoon light pooling on the floor. The distant chatter and honking of car horns on the street. Not at all a reflection of Clark’s thoughts, too-focused and worried on the issue before him. But it was a truly beautiful day, uninterrupted by-

A screeching sound came just before the building across from the Daily Planet’s headquarters exploded. Glass blowing outwards and raining down on the screaming civilians below. Eerie green flames licked up the edges of the building, growing hotter and stronger. Several of his coworkers rose from their positions and rushed to the windows, peering down at the destruction with reporter’s curiosity. A few raced for the doors, likely eager to get an edge on the news.

A bit vulture-esque of them, but who was Clark to judge?

He rose from his seat, muttering a hurried excuse to the restroom. The issue of the child would have to wait, Superman needed to deal with the issue currently before him.

Clark loosened his tie as he raced to an empty stall, idly listening to the commentary far behind him.

“…Clark really needs to see someone about his ibs.” Tony murmured.

Lois snorted in response.

______________________________________________

Superman stood motionless, staring down at the  little blue planet he called home. Knowing that somewhere was the main source of his current…

He was not brooding. Superman did not brood. That was Bruce’s schtick.

The issue earlier today had been dealt with, although not easily. The building across from the Daily Planet would take some time to rebuild, having been burned completely to ash. Clark had not found the cause for the explosion, and had instead focused on evacuation, rescue, and containment. Maybe he could’ve written it off as the result of faulty wiring.

Had he not seen and heard the impact of something before the building was destroyed.

The main concern was the green acidic foam that seemed predisposed to erupting into flames. Incredibly hot, impossible to put out flames that had nearly given him burns. Superman had no choice but to let the building burn. All that had remained in the end was green-tinged ashes and small puddles of that flammable foaming goop.

Odd, but not that odd. In fact, the only casualty had been a woman who had been closest to the impact. Overall, a pretty good result…considering the issue.

Clark was ready to chalk it up to the Usual Nonsense.

Except that the green puddles were suspiciously similar to other liquids that had been popping up at disaster sites across the country. Across the world, really.

So. Bruce had called a meeting. Which Clark attended, even if his mind had been somewhere else completely.

Clark frowned, his reflection frowned back.

“ So what’s up, big guy?” Hal said, floating into his line of view. The whites of Hal’s eye mask squinting at him.

“. . . Nothing. Just. . . Thinking. That’s all.”

If Hal’s mask didn’t obscure his eyebrows, Clark knew he would’ve seen the man raise them in disbelief.

“Really.”

“Really, really.”

Hal hummed, folding his arms behind his head and kicking himself into a floating recline. “Well, you were giving Bats a run for his money will all the sullen grumpiness.”

Ah hell, he had been brooding.

“So, you’ll forgive me if I don’t exactly believe that you’re just thinking.” Hal said, tilting his head at Clark. “C’mon, what’s up? Obviously something’s on your mind and for some reason I don’t think it’s evil-goo related.”

Clark made a noncommittal sound, keeping his eyes on the rotating planet below them. Hal’s reflection floating nearby, waiting for him to speak.

“…do you know about the Reddit thread, AITA?”

Chapter Text

Obviously , Hal knew what Reddit was. He didn’t live under a rock like Batsy and the birds. (In a cave? Whatever) Hal was a productive member of society (mostly) and perused the forum website occasionally like any other normal human being.

For some reason the thought that Superman also perused the website on his downtime had never crossed his mind. The AITA thread at that? Who would have guessed the Man of Steel had a weakness for internet gossip. Certainly not Hal. Especially not a weakness that had lead to Superman having something obviously weighing on his mind.

For something to trouble Superman to the point of distraction was not uncommon, but it was troubling. Usually a portent of some kind of world-ending doom (basically a Tuesday).

The fact that it was an AITA Reddit threat was borderline laughable.

No, it was utterly ridiculous. Naïve, honestly, to believe in a Reddit thread to the point that it lingered in Superman’s mind.

Hal laughed, clapping the taller man on the shoulder and giving his friend an easy grin. The story was borderline unbelievable, skirting the edge between reality and nonsense. Sure, their daily lives included some insane shit. Hal was the “chosen one” of an intergalactic ring that gave him superpowers. Clark was an alien. Weirder things had happened.

But the story he related was just…

It was probably fake, and Hal had told Clark as much. Floating in a relaxed recline, looking sideways at his friend. Clark frowned down at the swirling mass of greens and blues they both called home.

Hal sighed and dropped his grin, casting his gaze towards their planet.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What makes you so sure it’s the real deal?”

“…It’s just something about the way the child writes. It feels so…genuine?” Clark said, brows furrowing together.

He hummed, lazily drifting by. Held aloft by the green light that surrounded him.

“Send it to me.” Hal said.

“What?”

Hal shrugged, tilting his body in a way to better face Clark. “Send me a link to the post. I want to see it myself.” He grinned.

Maybe if Hal read it he’d have a better chance at convincing Supes that it was a joke post.

_____________________________________________

. . .

Okay maybe it wasn’t a joke post.

Hal was man enough to admit when he was wrong. Could even see why Superman had been so preoccupied. So concerned and centered on this post.

Because the contents were actually fucking insane.

The kid (if it was a kid, Hal was still skeptical) was seemingly at the epicenter of a mad-scientist driven disaster waiting to happen. Ridiculous and unbelievable, except that the way the kid wrote just felt so sincere. Heavy with the innocence that young teens denied they still had.

Hal was steadily moving into the camp of “concerned hero who was feeling the guilt of not acting.”

He should work on that name.

But the point was he could see where Superman was coming from. Could see that there was an issue that, as heroes, they should intervene in. However, given the circumstance, that same situation was one in which they couldn’t intervene. The anonymous nature of Reddit was making this an entirely too frustrating ordeal.

And here he’d thought that he’d read the post and offer reassurance to the big guy that it was just a fake story. How do your words taste, Hal? Now that you’ve been forced to eat them?

Green Lantern frowned to himself, floating over to the elevator that would bring him to the teleportation bay. Green Arrow gave him a once over at his arrival, arching an eyebrow at Hal’s broody appearance. At least, Hal assumed that’s what the other man did. All that actually showed on Green Arrow’s face was a stretching on his green mask.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothin‘.” Hal mumbled. Folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh kaaaaay.” Green Arrow said, pressing the button to take them down.

“Hey, did you notice how distracted Supes was? Ten bucks says Batsy is all pissy at our next meeting because his boyfriend isn’t paying  attention to him.” Green Arrow said, snorting to himself at the thought.

Hal hummed, drumming his fingers against his bicep. He couldn’t really blame Superman for being distracted.

Should he tell Arrow? He should tell him….Right?

Green Arrow glanced sideways at him, silence falling over the pair as the elevator door slowly slid shut.

Hal immediately turned to his fellow hero, “Ollie, you are not going to fucking believe this.”

_____________________________________________

u/TotallyNotAnnaSmith • 18 hrs ago
Um. Obviously NTA. But is this even real?? Like seriously, is this a fake post? A fake story?? Child neglect isn’t a funny thing to make jokes about. >:(

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 18 hrs ago

Yeah??? I’m not writing a fake story, I just wanted to know if others thought I was in the wrong for refusing to clean the basement??? I really don’t know why everyone keeps mentioning neglect and child abuse though? It’s just chores??

u/TotallyNotAnnaSmith • 17 hrs ago

Well, isn’t there something you can do to prove it’s real???

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 17 hrs ago

Like what?

u/TotallyNotAnnaSmith • 17 hrs ago
Maybe your location? Your parents’ research field? What happened with your accident??? There’s so much information that you’re leaving out!

u/chewsday_morning • 16 hrs ago
@u/TotallyNotAnnaSmith Crack? Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?

Seriously though. You did not just insist that a child who is in a dangerous living situation, disclose personal information on REDDIT. Any child for that matter, does NOT need to give you ANY more information. If you don’t believe him then just move on already. You don’t know what damage you could do by demanding that he “proves himself.”

Honestly, you must be a complete moron.

@u/ActuallyUndead NTA. And you don’t have to say or do anything to prove that your situation is real.

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 16 hrs ago

Um. Well I don’t want to give out my location. And I can’t say my parents’ field of research because like one google search and everyone would know who I am. But uhhh my accident was caused by faulty wiring and chemical exposure.

u/Scaredy-cats-Scaredy-bats • 10 hrs ago
OP were you fucking electrocuted?????

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 8 hrs ago

Well when you say it like that it sounds really bad…

Chapter Text

Update:

Hi everyone, it’s been a couple days since I first posted.

My mom and dad came into my room yesterday to have a talk. I guess that my father’s best friend, my “godfather”, came over earlier and they had a talk about my behavior. V (46M) basically told them to not give in to my whims. And went on with his typical bullshit that all children go through rebellious stages and eventually “fall into line an accept the inevitable.” My parents, unfortunately, have decided to wholeheartedly agree with his point of view. Having now doubled down on both my punishments and their demands. Apparently now I should resume my chores, take up my sister’s, and join them during their experiments to better “appreciate their work.”

So…still super grounded! Honestly at this point I might just give in and risk the sickness and chemical burns just to be left alone about it. It’s too annoying otherwise. Although I’m pretty pissed that V has decided, once again, to butt his ugly head into normal family arguments.

_____________________________________________

u/TokyoAvengers • 2 hrs ago

I just came across this post, and lucky for me was just in time for the update!

But…Huh?? OP who tf is this new guy to be butting into your family??? And why are your parents just going along with what he says???

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 2 hrs ago

Oh. Yeah. V is my parents’ best friend from college. I only met him recently though. He’s been shoving himself into my family’s issues since I met him. He’s weirdly obsessed with my mom and for some reason that obsession has kind of transferred to me?? Lately he’s been giving unsolicited parenting advice. Which is laughable because the only kid he does have ran away the first chance she got.

My dad doesn’t see any problem with him and my mom thinks he’s harmless.

u/MyHighAssademia • 2 hrs ago

Obsessed???

u/ActuallyUndead OP • 2 hrs ago

Lmao yeah. Like he’s tried to get custody of me, always wants me to live with him instead of my parents, goes on and on about how one day I’ll live by his side and see things his way. Be the “boy he’s always wanted.” It’s very uncomfortable and he literally will not stop. Like….Ever.

It’s annoying.

u/Just_ALittleGuy • 1 hr ago

HOLY- This dude needs to be on a REGISTRY. OP PLEASE tell a trusted adult!!

u/kilted_warrior • 1 hr ago

@u/Just_ALittleGuy

Trusted adult?? There’s no trustful adults left! Someone call the JLA!!

_______________________________________________________

Hitting a wall he could not break through was not a feeling that Clark was familiar with.

He groaned, rubbing a hand along his jaw as he squinted at the screen before him. At tab…what number was it? 28? No, 29? It didn’t matter. Clark was used to having multiple tabs open on his computer, on searching through various online routes to get to the bottom of his investigations. Or at the very least, get a decent lead to conduct an in-person investigation. Not this time…

The AITA post had moved past a worry and had now set up a permanent camp in his mind. He could not focus until he knew this anonymous child was finally safe.

Was, admittedly, ignoring his investigation into the explosion from last week. That could wait. How many explosions a day did Gotham have? Metropolis would survive a delay in their newspaper’s usually prompt reporting.

But. The wall.

Clark didn’t have much to go off of. Just the meager information that the boy had unwittingly provided. Yet… he had used almost all his resources just to discover crumbs.

To start off, the dialect the boy used seemed to imply that he was American. Not a large lead, but a lead nonetheless.

Next: The boy’s parents were specialized scientists, with a home-lab. Regardless of their apparent disregard for their children’s safety, that would require government sanctions. Government awareness, at the very least on a state level. Especially after the so-called “Mad-Scientist Acts” passed in the wake of a booming villain industry amongst the academic elites.

So, Clark did what any self-respecting journalist would do, and made an attempt to narrow the scope of his inquiry. Which, despite the genuinely concerning number of privately owned laboratories within the United States, actually did narrow his investigation.

A majority of the privately owned labs seemed to be geared towards general scientific fields. Nothing that Clark would call hyper-specialized.

Although he did send over the address of one Alex Anderson to Bruce…really, just from what he read…someone needed to keep an eye on that guy…

Still, there were a handful of promising leads. Further narrowed by the fact that Clark was looking for a husband-wife team that specialized in the same, or adjacent, fields.

Which left investigative reporter Clark Kent with a grand total of three possible suspects.

Not too shabby, huh?

See, Jon? Dad could be a cool detective too!

Everything had been going unexpectedly smoothly. A swift glide curtesy of investigative journalism. Then, the wall .

Andreas and Juliana Rodriguez-Jones in Nevada were an bio-archeologist and physicist power couple. Studying the affect of wavering electromagnetic fields on the growing meta-human population. Parents to Julia and Mateo.

Natalie and Edvard Cohen, pharmacologist-chemists in Washington. They were renowned in their field for work on medication specified for meta-children. Daughter, Isabella and son, Stephen.

Jack and Madeline Fenton, ecto -biologists living in Illinois. Clark couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly, that they studied. Just that their studies seemed to gain government attention.

Actually, all three were under Government interest. Beyond the basic label of chemist, biologist…their studies were locked tight under intense firewalls and government lockdowns. Clark couldn’t pinpoint their exact locations, nor could he pin down the exact situations regarding their chosen fields. Their current lines of study and interest, nor why the government seemed to hold such high interest in these three couples.

So. A wall. A government grade firewall.

A coffe cup clinked onto his desk. Clark looked up and smiled, seeing Lois’s lovingly exasperated face.

She brushed her hand through his hair, “Don’t go too deep into this, Clark…you can’t save everyone.”

Clark hummed, catching her hand. He pressed a kiss into her palm. “I won’t.”

“Alright… I have an interview dinner tonight, you’ll have to go to Jon’s parent-teacher meeting without me.” Lois said, brushing her thumb across his jaw.

“That’s fine.” Clark replied. Bruce was likely to be there too, perhaps it was time to confess his worries.

Lois placed a kiss to the top of Clark’s head, and left him to his personal investigation. He turned his attention away from the steaming cup of coffee back to the screens before him.

Back to the seemingly happy photo of the Fenton family. Jack and Madeline, with their children. Jasmine…

And Danny.

_____________________________________________

Telling Hal first may have been a mistake.

As much as it was a relief that his friend agreed that the post was likely real…Clark really should’ve known that it would quickly get out of hand.

As it was… Hal had spilled the proverbial beans to Oliver. Who spoke to Barry. Who ranted to Wally. Who of course told Dick.

Which lead to this.

A lesser man would be shaking under the gaze leveled upon Clark.

Clark was not a lesser man.

So, why was he shaking?

He cleared his throat, and met the gaze of his companion. Ready to give some kind of self defense.

“Well- I didn’t suspect that things would get so..out of control so quickly. Really, I only mentioned something to Hal because I-“

His companion held up a hand, dealing Clark a look that landed harder than any blow. What was it that allowed the other man to perfect that glare? Was it the shear number of children he had that gave him the power of the Ultimate Disappointed Dad?

“While I wish you had brought your concerns to me first, instead of me finding out through a panicked text from Dick, what’s done is done. The updates on this… Reddit post, have become increasingly concerning.”

Bruce sighed, a flat look in his blue eyes.

“I’ve asked the boys to take a closer look at these firewalls you mentioned.”

Chapter Text

In hindsight, he probably should’ve brought the post to Batman’s attention the moment it garnered his concern. The ease in which Batman and Co. were able to pinpoint a general area from which the posts were being uploaded was…laughable. They had a destination by the end of the week, with roughly a three day turnaround from when Bruce originally found out.

. . .

So, yes… In hindsight Clark should’ve told Bruce first.

. . .But he really hadn’t wanted to tell Bruce. It was easy to fall back on the detective expertise the man offered, the expertise his kids offered. Clark was a renowned investigative journalist, he could figure things out too!

Although that reasoning, the petty petulance he felt regarding the situation, faded in the light of how serious it could be. Regardless of Clark’s pride in the matter, there were children in a dangerous situation. A situation that was becoming increasingly worrying, given that it had now been three days and there was no update from Reddit user ActuallyUndead.

Clark refreshed the webpage on his phone again, looking up at the highway as the car slowed in the increase in traffic.

Barry groaned beside him, sitting up in the drivers seat and straining as if he could see the cause of traffic jam.

There was no cause, as far as Clark could tell. Just an absurd amount of cars coming from the adjacent on-ramp.

“Why?! Just drive!” Barry said, gesturing rudely to the car that suddenly cut them off. “ Where did you all even come from anyways?!”

Clark adjusted his glasses on his nose, “This is the on-ramp that comes directly from Gotham.”

“Oh, so Gotham just causes trouble in and out of the city then?”

“Well…yes?”

Barry mumbled to himself, sinking deeper into the driver’s seat as they steadily rolled to a stop.

Hal leaned forward from the backseat, leaning against the center console. He looked between the two men, eyebrows furrowed in a look of disbelief.

“…Am I the only one who sees the ridiculousness of us driving? Specifically, the two of you?” He said.

Barry and Clark looked down at the man, an expression of confusion painted across Barry’s face.

“How else are we supposed to get to Illinois, Hal?”

_______________________________________________

Illinois.

Taking into account Clark’s own investigative work, they had determined that the identity of the poster…was one Daniel, “Danny”, Fenton.

The problem now was that they had no idea the precise location the boy was.

There were about three possible small towns the poster, Danny , could have come from, all within 30-45 minutes of each other. All about a fourteen hour drive from Metropolis, where Clark had originally met up with Barry and Hal.

But Barry was a speedster in every aspect of his life, and it looked like they’d make the trip in about ten.

Clark reclined slightly in his seat, closing his eyes. The pair were not his first choice in companions for this, but they were probably the best choice given the circumstances.

Red Robin, (or perhaps it had been Oracle? Maybe even Nightwing…) had pinpointed the location as being one of three small towns in the middle of nowhere Illinois. Beyond that, locating had become…difficult. An indecipherable mess of scrambled codes would crop up when anyone attempted to get technologically closer.

It was concerning, and more than a little bit strange. Having piqued Batman’s interest and garnered the concern of the League.

There was no reason why any forgettable small town in middle America…would be surrounded by code-scrambling firewalls. A technological dead-zone for any outsider.

Actually, it was a bit amazing the kid had managed to post something to begin with.

Which lead to the current gathered team. For all that he could do incredible things…Bruce Wayne could not enter a small town in the Midwest and go unnoticed. Nor could Oliver, or Diana. The issues their civilian identities could cause for a discrete investigation, in addition to pre-existing issues and missions….severely limited the options for available league members to join Clark on his investigation.

So, Hal and Barry.

At the very least, their experiences in the military and with forensic investigations may come in handy.

Clark sighed, opening his eyes to watch Hal as the man jolted forward. An alarmed look in his brown eyes.

“The kid updated.”

_______________________________________________

Final Update:

I’m just going to come out and say that this probably isn’t the resolution that many of you seemed to be hoping for.
As some of you guessed, my parents found out about my post.

I’m not really sure how, since they’re not very into social media. I suspect that V had something to do with it, but I don’t have proof.

Unfortunately this means that things have gotten significantly worse.

My parents are beyond angry with me. Both for ranting to strangers online and blowing this out of proportion and for “risking the integrity of their work by creating possible exposure.” I’m not entirely positive what that means, but I can guess and it’s nothing good. They also have become increasingly worried that I am “contaminated” by their work and not acting as myself. So they’ve been watching me more closely and won’t let me see my friends. My mom keeps calling me out of school too, so I can’t even see them there.

I decided to just throw in the towel and give up on this. They’re not going to budge and the more I resist cleaning the basement the worse things are getting for me.

So last night I finally cleaned the basement. It seemed that since I started saying I didn’t want to, that no one has been cleaning up. It was a complete disaster, more than usual. And when I off handedly mentioned that it was way worse than usual my Dad said: “It wouldn’t have gotten this bad if you just did your chores to begin with.”

As I expected, I got violently sick from cleaning. I spent most of today in bed, and my sister had to bandage up some small burns I got on my hands.

My parents are still really angry with me, and I don’t think they’ll be letting up on this for a while. But things do seem a little bit better now that I just gave in.

Sorry to disappoint that I didn’t stick up for myself for longer, I just got tired of this and worried it was going to get worse and worse.

Thanks again for all the nice comments.

Chapter Text

It was laughably easy to find Fenton-Works.

The unlikely trio of heroes had driven straight to Amity Park, the central option of the three possible towns. Hal would investigate the central town, Amity, while Clark and Barry investigated the two outer posts of Allentown and Faraday.

This had been decided for the simple reason of how fast they could all gather once the location of the Fentons was determined. Barry and Clark were much, much faster than Hal. So it made sense to put them at the furthest ends in the event that the Fentons were in Allentown or Faraday.

Simple, right?

Even more simple was driving into Amity Park and immediately spotting the towering eyesore that was Fenton-Works.

Hal had whistled, tilting his head to stare up at the rickety sign as they drove past.

“Well,” he’d said, “This is gonna be a piece of cake!”

He should have been right. After all, the “mission” was, in essence, little more than a wellness check. With the primary objective being to just get eyes on the kid. Have visual verification that Daniel Fenton was fine, and finally ease Clark’s worries.

Which was an easy feat. After all, Amity Park was an exceptionally small town and Clark could literally see through walls.

Like Hal said, it was a piece. Of. Cake.

. . .

It definitely was not a piece of cake.

Although they’d immediately spotted Fenton-Works. . . They hadn’t seen any evidence that the building was occupied. Had yet to spot any outward movement or sign of life.

On that first evening, they’d found a small taco stand nearby and settled down. Figuring that it would take a maximum of three hours to spot one of the four members of the Fenton Family.

Of course, Clark had lasted all of thirty minutes before he’d used his X-ray vision to try and peer behind the brick façade.

Tried being the unexpectedly key word there.

Whatever it was that the Drs Fenton worked on, whatever it was that they experimented on, it impeded Clark’s vision. He could see into the first and second floors of the main building. . .but the protruding abomination rising above the building, the lower floors and the basement ? Clark could not see into. Found only black, blocked space where he should have found something.

He’d squinted, straining until an entirely unfamiliar headache bloomed behind his eyes. Still, he could not see anything.

Incredibly unsettling.

They were going on three days in Amity Park and had yet to actually have eyes on Daniel Fenton.

Clark groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose and causing his glasses to go askew.

What should their next step be?

He watched Hal from the corner of his eye, the other man squinting suspiciously at a small group of teens walking across the street. The kids kept glancing at the trio, whispering to each other all the while.

“. . . This place is weird.” Hal grumbled into his coffee cup.

“You can say that again.” Barry said, plopping down into the seat on Clark’s right with a, rather large, brown paper bag.

The blond man unrolled the top and offered a foil-wrapped breakfast sandwich to his companions. Unloading the rest onto the tabletop until a small tasty pyramid laid before him.

Barry plucked one from the top, ripping into it.

“Everyone here keeps watching us like we’re freaks or something.” He said around a mouthful of bacon and egg.

“You are a freak Barry.” Hal deadpanned.

“Hey!”

They were both right, of course. The little town of Amity Park was weird.

In the few days they’d been there, there had been an. . . Unsettling weight to the air. Every citizen seemed to stare at them as if they had seen a ghost. Surprised and alarmed didn’t seem to describe their expressions aptly enough. It wasn’t like the citizens recognized the trio, it was more that they were surprised anyone outside of their community had arrived in town to begin with. They were truly confused at the heroes’ appearance amongst them, and treated them with an an overwhelming air of caution and suspicion.

Which made it difficult to subtly ask questions about the Fenton family.

Especially when said family seemed to have a very steady presence in the community. Every public establishment held a small plaque that read: Protected by Fenton Tech. What they were protected from, or even what they used for protection, they had no idea. But the plaques were absolutely everywhere. On the walls of small shops, displayed in home windows, and proudly shown in the lobby of their hotel. Even now Clark knew that if he turned around he’d see another plaque plastered next to the café’s front door.

“Any updates on the girl?” Hal asked, leaning over to peer at Clark’s laptop screen.

The girl.

The apparent, sole occupant of the Fenton home. A young girl, probably in her mid teens, who had been holed up in a room facing the street. Her bedroom, most likely. Clark had noticed her that first day, noticed how the red headed girl paced back and forth in her room. Nervously biting her nails and glancing at the door.

Obviously, Clark had not been keeping a running 24 hr surveillance on the girl.

It was just that. . . Every time he checked to see if anyone else had shown up in the house, there she was. In that same room. Pacing the floor.

Or crying into her bedding.

For whatever reason, Jasmine Fenton was staying within the confines of her room.

It was just weird.

“No, no update.” Clark replied. He frowned at the computer screen, clicking open a new notification from Bruce.

Hal hummed, a matching frown on his face as he sipped his rapidly cooling coffee.

“If only we had been more convincing at the school,” he took a slow, considering sip. “maybe we could’ve found out more information on the Fenton kids.”

He was referring to his attempt to tour the school with Barry the day before. Under the guise of being a couple wanting to tour a new school for their son; with the intention of Barry quickly running through the school’s files on the Fenton siblings.

They hadn’t made it very far. The school staff being incredibly suspicious of the pair and demanding that they schedule a tour for a later date.

“We were a very convincing couple, thankyouverymuch.” Barry said, sounding genuinely offended.

Clark blocked a tumbling sandwich from falling onto his open laptop, scrolling through the latest update from Bruce. Ignoring the hushed argument that quickly ensued.

Truthfully, he hadn’t found them all that convincing. The fault hadn’t laid with Barry though; Hal was just an absolutely terrible actor.

“ Regardless, we need to think up something soon. It doesn’t sit right with me that we haven’t seen anyone come out of that health hazard.” Barry said, balling up the tinfoil from his third sandwich.

Clark hummed in agreement, skimming the article Bruce had found. A recent publishing from the small local paper that had Daniel Fenton as the head king feature.

He paused, tilting his head in consideration.

“. . . I have an idea.”

Oh yeah, Clark could work with this.

______________________________________________

Clark rolled up the sleeves of his button-down shirt and eyes Barry as the man fidgeted with the tie Hal had wrangled him into.

“Stop fidgeting so much, you look nervous.” He said as they turned the corner, heading towards Fenton-Works.

“I am nervous.” Barry grumbled.

“Don’t be, just let me lead the conversation.”

“Why couldn’t Hal have been your pretend journalist partner?”

Clark went quiet as they reached the steps leading to the Fentons’ front door.

“. . . Hal isn’t a good actor.” He said softly, climbing the steps.

Barry snorted, “I knew I wasn’t the one who blew it yesterday.” He straightened, dropping his hands from the tie and reaching to firmly knock against the door.

The knock echoed in the silence of the building, leaving the pair to stand with bated breath.

He could not see into the depths of the building, but he was able to hear when a door opened on heavy hinges. Could count each step and knew that someone was approaching the door at a sedated pace.

Movement in the corner of his eye caught Clark’s attention. He looked up, catching sight of a young, tired face peering down at him from behind heavy curtains. A reassuring smile spread across his face as he waved up at Jasmine Fenton.

Her eyes widened and she disappeared behind the sway of the curtains.

The front door opened with a click, a small auburn haired woman stood in the entryway. Eyeing the pair suspiciously with exhausted, red-rimmed eyes.

Clark smiled widely down at her, extending a hand that she did not take.

“Good morning! Mrs. Fenton, I presume?” He began.

“Doctor.” She corrected, a small frown on her face.

“My apologies, Dr. Fenton,” Clark corrected, dropping his hand to gesture at himself and Barry. “We’re from the Daily Planet.”

“The newspaper?” She said, opening the door a bit more in interest.

“Yes, and well-“

“Are you here about the decrease in attacks?” She interrupted, deep blue eyes coming to life with a spark of passion.

“Attacks?” Barry repeated, sharing a quick confused look with Clark.

“My husband and I are very proud of our work. But it seems that our most recent inventions have been most effective. We were wondering when we’d start to gain national attention. It’s about time that-“

Oh, Clark felt the conversation was getting away from them. He chuckled, nervously rubbing the side of his neck.

“Actually,” he interrupted the woman’s impassioned speech, “We were wondering if your son was available for a small interview.”

Dr. Fenton’s expression shuttered, eyes dimming.

“. . .My son?”

“Yes! You see, we recently started a small column focusing on science-inclined kids. And when we heard about your son’s discovery regarding the gorilla Delilah, we thought-“

“I’m sorry.” She interrupted, clearing her throat and sniffing as if she was suddenly consumed by a heavy emotion.

Madeline Fenton blinked rapidly clearing away the tears that had unexpectedly gathered in her eyes.

“You can’t- My son-“ she started and stopped, grip tightening on the door handle. Dr. Fenton cleared her throat again. “My son passed recently, it was quite sudden and-“

A tear ran down her face, she backed away from the entryway. Slowly closing the door on the two shocked men.

“I’m sorry, excuse me.” She whispered, closing the door click that rang of finality.

Her heartbeat echoed in Clark’s ears, panicked and rapid. He almost couldn’t hear when her footsteps slowly went from the door, and returned to that place he could not see.

They stood stock still, staring in disbelief at the door.

“ What?” Barry said, a hollow disbelief coating his words.

Clark was inclined to agree. Because. . . What? Had he really heard her properly? Had she said that- had she really meant that-

That her son was dead?

That the child he’d been worried about for weeks, the one he’d been so sure they could save, the one who had certainly been alive just days before.

He was dead?

That couldn’t be. Surely, that wasn’t what was actually happening here. It had to be a misunderstanding. He had to have misheard her.

Because there was no way that-

It really couldn’t be that-

That they had been too late.

A rapid thumping captured their attention. Barry and Clark snapping their heads up to see the figure of Jasmine Fenton banging her closed fist against the window. She slammed a paper against the glass with her other hand, and the two words hastily written there chilled the blood in their veins.

‘SHES LYING’

Chapter Text

“I’m gonna break the window!”

“Don’t do that! You’ll get glass on her.”

“Oh, like you have any better ideas?” Hal snarked.

“I don’t but I know we can’t just kidnap her!” Barry replied, throwing his hands up in emphasis.

“It’s lookin’ like a pretty good idea to me!”

“We can’t just-“

Clark groaned, “Nobody is kidnapping anyone else.” He said, interrupting the brewing argument.

For his own sake he was going to ignore Hal’s muttered response of: “. . .maybe not right now.”

He cradled his head in his hand, staring holes into the wooden hotel desk. Clark was no stranger to missions going awry. Had come to literally expect the unexpected in every aspect of his life.

But this was a level of convoluted that even he wasn’t sure he could’ve ever predicted.

Dr. Madeline Fenton claimed that her son had passed. Had recently died.

Her daughter claimed otherwise.

Clark’s mind whirled with questions.

He closed his eyes, fingers pressing against his temple. Focusing on the heartbeats of his companions as a sort of personal metronome. There wasn’t much for them to go off of, but they did have some facts. Some facts, few as they may be, to build upon and dig into.

Daniel had last updated his post four days ago, one day before they arrived in Amity. Since arriving in Amity, the members of the Fenton family had not been seen. Not beyond the walls of their home at least. Their. . . “home”  seemed to be mostly occupied by Jasmine. As, beyond when Madeline Fenton answered the door, Clark had not seen another person there. He’d come to believe that the parents, for some reason, rarely left the basement. The basement he couldn’t see into. And Jasmine rarely, if ever, left her room.

Was it that she wouldn’t leave her room, or that she couldn’t ?

That was. . . concerning. They definitely had to do something about that situation, even if they were currently preoccupied with locating Danny. There was much about the situation that remained murky, but had become incredibly clear that the Fenton adults were not fit to be parents. Not with one child being locked within her own room, and the other missing. Deceased, if Madeline Fenton was to be believed.

But, Jasmine said that was a lie.

Why would she make that claim? Why go to the effort of getting Clark and Barry’s attention, to claim that her mother was lying? There would be no reason to do that unless the girl really, truly believed that her brother was still alive.

Had evidence to dispute her mother’s statement.

But what evidence could Jasmine have? What was fueling this belief?

Why would Madeline lie about her son being dead?

They didn’t have the answers. But there was someone who did; someone who might be willing to talk to them.

Which really boiled down to one main objective; they had to talk to Jasmine Fenton.

“ We need to talk with the girl.” Clark said finally.

“Well obviously, but someone, ” Hal shot a half hearted glare towards Clark. “said no to kidnapping.”

“We can talk to her without kidnapping. We just have to-“ Clark waved vaguely, feeling exasperated. “get her out of there. . . Somehow.”

“Break the window.”

“ No.” Clark and Barry said in tandem.

“But. . .maybe we can use the window.” Barry said thoughtfully, peering out the hotel’s window.

“What, like talk to her through it?” Hal said, making a face that said exactly what he thought of that idea.

“Maybe. Or carry her out it and go to a place where we can talk.” Clark said. “Every time I’ve looked at that place, she’s in that room. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that she might not be able to leave. At least not through the front door.” He leaned back in the desk’s chair.

“. . . So we get the kid to open the window, carry her out of that place, and ask her what’s going on with her parents and brother?” Hal asked.

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said today, Hal.”

“Hey!”

Barry snorted in amusement, staring out the window from here he leaned against the wall.

“Well, we better hurry. It looks like it’s about to storm.” He said, jabbing a finger towards the window.

“Say no more.” Hal said.

Suddenly Green Lantern stood beside his companions, and quickly moved towards the window. Ripping it open.

“Hal- Hey! Wait!” Barry said as Hal rocketed out the window.

Green Lantern turned once he was in the air, giving a salute towards the pair before flying off. Obviously heading straight towards where they knew Amity to be.

Clark and Barry stood together in silence.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Barry whispered.

“. . .I don’t think you can . Im pretty sure he’s got intergalactic diplomatic immunity.”

_______________________________________________

Thunder rumbled in the distance as lightning lit up the skies.

Hal hated flying in the rain. Hated the way the droplets became bullets against his skin. Yet the coming storm had it uses; the threat of rain had served to clear away any who had remained after the sun had set. Giving clear streets, and an inconspicuous path straight towards FentonWorks.

Civilians could see him if they cared to look out their windows, but they were less likely to stop him. As it was, he arrived without any issues. Mere minutes after leaving the hotel.

Hal tapped a white finger against the girl’s window. He waited a moment, then tapped again with more strength. Again he waited, again he tapped.

There was no movement inside. Nothing to indicate that there was anyone in the room, let alone the girl.

He flinched as lightning cracked through the sky, the echoing thunder loud enough to rattle the windows. They jumped in their loose frame.

Wait. . . Loose frame.

Hal leaned closer to the glass, and noticed a thin crack at the bottom of the window. As if it had been opened and improperly shut. He frowned and pulled at the space between the glass and sill, the whites of his mask widening in surprise at how easily the window slid open.

Kidnapping was (currently) off the table, but surely breaking and entering was fine?

He held open window, and pushed aside the thick blue curtains.

“Uh, hello?” He called into the darkness.

Hal hesitated for a moment, then crawled in through the window. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness. His suit cast a faint green glow around the room as he turned in a circle, feet landing silently on the ground.

A crack of lightning illuminated the room. The empty room.

Nothing could be easy, huh Jordan?

He retrieved his phone, staring out into the night. Trees were starting to sway with the force of the wind, barely visible in the all encompassing darkness of Amity.

Barry answered his call on the first ring.

“She’s not here.” Hal said, eyes pinned to the windowsill.

“What?”

“She’s gone.”

The skies opened up and poured down on them.

______________________________________________

The girl stood in an empty hotel lobby, water dripping from her clothes and pooling in small puddles by her feet. She shivered as a blast of cool air ghosted over her skin. Her sneakers squeaked against the tile as she made her way towards the front desk.

She sniffed and roughly rubbed at her nose. Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. Now wasn’t the time to cry.

The receptionist looked up at her approach, blinking in surprise. A forced smile came across her face, concern shining in her brown eyes.

“Hi hun, how can I help you?”

Jazz forced all those negative feeling to the front of her mind. Letting them show in the wobble of her lower lip, the roundness of her eyes. She tried her best to look as pathetic as she felt, and prayed to the Ancients that it worked.

“I-oh I’m in so much trouble.” Jazz said, voice breaking on a sob. She pressed the heel of her palm into her eye.

“I-I had a fight with my dads, and I ran off, and I was going to come back but then I realized I lost the keycard even though they told me to be careful I still lost it and I couldn’t find it and then it started to rain and I’m locked out of our room and I don’t know what to do and-“

“Hey, hey, hey!” The receptionist said, eyes wide with alarm. “It’s okay! Here, I can get another key card all set up for you.”

Jazz sniffed and rubbed harder at her eyes, “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, hun. Really, I promise you. Now what’s your room number?”

She pulled her hand away from her eyes and gave the receptionist a wobbly smile. “Room 212 please.”

Chapter Text

Someone had knocked on the door.

A dripping wet teenage girl had knocked on the hotel door.

A dripping wet Jasmine Fenton had knocked on their hotel door mere seconds after Hal had claimed her as missing.

“Uh, Hal? We found her.”

“ What?”

Clark blinked down at the young girl, surprised at her sudden appearance. She sniffed and rubbed at her slowly reddening nose.

“Um…” she said softly, “Can I come in?”

_____________________________________________

They had settled her down onto the plush armchair, wrapped in dry towels with some hot tea, steam rising from the paper cup. She stared at them; blue-green eyes wide and suspicious. Her eyes flicked around the room, bouncing between the three men.

Clark tossed a look over his shoulder, noting Hal leaning against the dresser and Barry sitting at the desk. He sighed and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees.

“. . .What are you doing here, Jasmine?” He finally asked.

“It’s Jazz.”

“I’m sorry?”

She shifted in her seat, looking down at the cup in her hands. “I prefer Jazz.”

“Okay, Jazz. How did you find us?”

“Danny, my brother, he has a friend that’s really good with computers. And we kinda,” she shrugged one shoulder, “looked for you guys.”

“ You looked for us ?” Barry asked.

“Yes.” She looked up, glancing between Hal and Clark. “And you. . . Were looking for me?”

“We were worried for you, kid.” Hal said, gesturing to the girl. “Didn’t expect to find you here. . .” He arched an eyebrow.

“. . .Right.” She looked down again, hand towel sliding from her head and onto the floor.

“So. . .” Barry began.

“My brother needs help.” Jazz blurted, squeezing her eyes shut. “My brother needs help , and you’re the only outside people I’ve seen so you might be the only ones who will actually listen to me. Nobody listens here, especially not the adults! They all use my parents’ tech to defend themselves and they’ve always turned a blind eye to us! But my brother needs help and he needs help now.” The words spilled from her in a great tumbling rush. Growing more frantic as she spoke.

“I didn’t think they’d hurt him, I mean they always kind of threatened to , but I didn’t think they’d actually- But it’s been days and I haven’t seen him at all! And then you guys showed up and Mom was saying he was dead but he’s not dead and -“ She roughly wiped at her eyes as she spoke, voice cracking on restrained sobs.

Clark put a steadying hand against the girl’s knee, stopping her rambling. Her fingers trembled where they were wrapped around the paper cup. Jazz looked up at him with watery eyes, and Clark’s heart ached as he recognized the look within them.

Fear , and hope that someone would finally rescue her from it.

“How about you start from the beginning?” He said softly.

______________________________________________

Jasmine - Jazz- had only begun spilling the Fenton family secrets once she’d been given absolute promises to help her brother. No matter what they might learn about him, or about what the Drs Fenton truly studied.

It had been easy to agree to, even if the truth was difficult to believe.

Whatever Ecto-biologist was meant to mean, it didn’t seem to be an accurate descriptor for what the Drs Fenton truly studied. As Jazz explained it, they held fervent interest in a parallel dimension. In the species that inhabited that dimension.

Their interest in their chosen field of study was obsessive in its intensity. Encompassing every aspect of their lives. The Drs Fenton had missed school events, holidays, and birthdays. All in a bid to finish what they called the pinnacle of their life’s work. The push that would prove the existence of the theoretical.

A device they called the Fenton Portal.

They had built a damn inter-dimensional rift in the basement.

But it hadn’t worked. Wouldn’t even turn on. Due to whatever structural mishap the pair had overlooked.

“. . .Not until Danny stepped into it.” Jazz said softly.

Danny. Their fifteen year old child , who didn’t only have access to the dangerous machinery, but had been able to get close enough too. . .

Close enough that. . .

That an inter-dimensional rift had opened up on top of him.

Clark felt sick to his stomach at the knowledge. It was a miracle the boy had survived, and it was no surprise that he’d left the encounter a meta.

Not surprising when the opening of the rift had soaked the town in enough radiation that the entities had been able to cross over from their dimension and wreck havoc.

What was surprising, was that the Drs Fenton hadn’t noticed the change in their son. Had instead been overjoyed at having their life’s work  being validated. And at the fact their business was suddenly booming as everyone scrambled to get their hands on some Fenton-Tech. It was remarkably good at repelling those from that parallel dimension. And, had an affect on Danny ; as his meta abilities stemmed from the same radiation that allowed the entities to walk amongst their world.

Strangely, that was not the worst of it.

No, the worst of it was how horribly the Drs Fenton views these entities. Finding everything affected by them to be contaminated and wrong .

Like their son?

Jazz slowed in her story, a heavy silence settled amongst them. Only the boom of thunder breaking it. Clark stared down at his shaking laced hands, knuckles white.  Hal paced the length of hotel room, softly cursing to himself as he ran his hand through his hair.

The Fenton’s negligence both as scientists and as parents had lead to their youngest child being altered, and a rift opening on the Earth. This wasn’t just bad, this could easily be catastrophic.

But first they needed to find Danny.

“And. . . What happened to your brother?” Barry said softly, gently taking the now-cool cup from Jazz’s shaking hands.

She shook her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know . He’s been having such bad reactions to the lab, I didn’t want him to clean it.”

“But they wouldn’t let it go , so he gave in. And this- this horrible rash spread up his arms.” Jazz gestured at her own arms, sniffling as she did. “I tried to get him all cleaned up before they saw, they’d think he was contaminated if they did. But he was in so much pain, and I didn’t have everything I needed. . . I just left for a second, I swear! But when I came back. . .”

“They had seen Danny’s wounds.” Barry finished where Jazz trailed off.

She nodded her head, dropping her gaze to her hands. Tears splattered onto her knuckles.

“I heard shouting, and Danny was crying. But, I couldn’t get to him. My Mom dragged me into my room and locked me in there.” She whispered.

Clark watched the girl, watching as Barry hesitantly rubbed her arm in comfort. He didn’t want to upset her further, but they still hadn’t gotten the answer they needed.

“Where is he, Jazz? Where’s Danny? Where did they take him?” He asked.

The girl just shook her head, keeping her eyes on her hands.

“Is he in that house? Jazz, is he still there ?” Clark asked, desperation leaking into his voice.

“No.” She whispered. “I watched them drag him outside. . .But he wasn’t with them when they came back.”

______________________________________________

Clark and Hal raced into the storming night, masked as their alter egos. Whatever attention that may have gained them was negligible compared to the doors it opened.

Barry had volunteered to stay at the hotel with Jazz when the pair had announced their intention to turn over Amity Park in their search for Danny.

Jazz hadn’t seen her parents return with her brother when they’d left the building three days earlier. The lead wasn’t much, but it was a lead.

The question now was, where had they taken their son?

“We’ve checked the East and South sides of town already!” Hal shouted, trying to be heard over the raging storm.

It was unnecessary, Clark could hear him just fine regardless. Even with the thunderous patted against the glowing umbrella Hal had conjured above them.

“We should check around the Northern parts of town!” He shouted again, a crack of lightning illuminated the night.

“Why not the west?” Clark asked.

Hal shook his head, droplets spraying with the movement. “Maps show there’s nothing to the west besides an old cemetery!”

“A cemetery?” Clark repeated, blinking rapidly.

Alarm bells rang in his ears.

What had Madeline Fenton said? That her son was dead ?

“Follow me!” Clark shouted.

He turned and ran towards the cemetery, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

______________________________________________

St. Anthony’s Memorial Park was a truly tiny cemetery. With crumbling abandoned tombstones and overgrown weeds. The crack of lightning painting it in horrific relief.

Clark sped through the grounds, quickly glancing over every stone. Hoping that he’d find something, hoping that he wouldn’t .

He wiped the rain out of his eyes, Hal’s glowing green form appearing in his periphery as the other man arrived at the cemetery’s gates.

“What was that about?” Hal said when he got closer, brow furrowed with confusion.

Clark shook his head, frowning down at the mud.

“The mother said her son was dead. She insisted on it, I thought that maybe. . .” He roughly ran a hand though his hair in frustration.

He didn’t know what he thought. This whole situation was insane and upside down. Everything they had learned had made it more and more difficult and horrific.

Green Lantern patted Superman’s shoulder.

“We’re going to find the kid, we will find him.” Hal said.

He dropped his gaze from Clark’s face to the muddy ground. Frowning at the muck coating their feet.

Wasted time. He’d wasted time coming here. All based on what some insane woman had claimed about her son.

Hal turned in a semi-circle, frown deepening as he looked around the cemetery.

Superman wiped the moisture from his face again, “This was a waste of time-“

“Clark-“

“I’m sorry Hal, let’s go search the northern part of town.”

“Clark.”

“I can’t believe I dragged us-“

“Clark!”

“What?” Clark said, looking at Green Lantern with some alarm.

“Why is this the only muddy patch of ground?” Hal shouted, gesturing to where they stood.

Clark blinked, and looked down at the ground. Illuminated by the faint green glow cast off by Hal’s suit. Soaked, overgrown grass spread in every direction in the cemetery. Absolutely everywhere.

Except for the patch they stood in. Where muddy soil was exposed to the elements, clinging to their shoes. As if the grass couldn’t grow in this rectangular area, or as if it had been freshly churned.

Hal conjured another blockade against the rain as Clark dropped to his knees, pressing an ear against the muck. He hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t heard anything. But maybe there was a chance- He hadn’t been able to see into the Fenton’s basement either. If whatever was beneath them was made of the same material, then maybe.

The mud squelched unpleasantly against his face and ear, but still he strained his senses. Desperately hoping for some sign that he hadn’t been wrong, that this hadn’t been a waste, that they hadn’t run out of time.

He waited, knowing that even if Danny was a meta, they may have been too late.

But there! So faint he’d mistaken it as the distant claps of thunder, something, someone thudded against wood below them.

Clark dug his hands into the mud, shoving fistfuls away. Hal yelped as they rocketed by him, but Clark was solely focused on what was before him. On what was beneath him.

It was only seconds before his nails scrapped against metal, but it felt like hours. Each heartbeat prolonging the painful anticipation and fear of what they might find. He scrapped mud away from the metal, revealing a large box that had been buried deep beneath the Earth.

He smeared the mud against the cool metal, making out the words ‘Fenton Anti-Ecto Containment Unit’ printed along the box’s face.

An unfamiliar rage burned in his stomach as his fingers dimpled the edge of the box’s lid. Clark ripped it away, metal screeching in protest, and flung it away. Distantly aware of Hal’s curse as he quickly caught the offending thing with a giant green spectral hand.

There was a wooden box beneath the metal. A coffin .

He reached down with shaking hands, and realized. . .Superman was scared of what they might find.

With a creak, he lifted the lid of the coffin. And revealed. . . A boy. No older than his son, Jon. Staring up at him with wide, sunken eyes.

Without the strange tech in the way, Superman could hear him. Could hear Danny’s rapid breath, his stuttering uneven heart. And he knew then that even though they had been late in all the ways that mattered, they had still found him before he was lost.

“Hey. . .” Clark said softly, reaching for the boy.

Danny sprang up with surprising strength, wrapping his arms around Clark’s torso. Clark’s hands came up to press the boy to him, holding the child as his body shook with silent sobs.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay now.” Clark said, gently embracing the trembling child. His right hand cupped the back of the boy’s head; he looked up from within the grave at Hal.

“I’ve got you now, you’re okay.” He said to the boy, lifting them both out of that hole in the ground where his parents had thrown him away. 

The other man’s face was dark with anger. Clark was angry too, and silently promised the boy in his grasp that he would never let harm come to him again.

“I’ve got you now, I’m here.”

Chapter Text

Clark scooped the boy into his arms, murmuring words of comfort all the while. He was faintly aware of Hal coming closer, a frown on the other man’s face. The boy paid him no mind, sobbing into Clark’s shoulder. Whether it was out of relief, or pain, or grief. . . Clark didn’t know.

How could they?

How could the Fentons take their son. . . and toss him aside as if he was nothing? How could they look their child in the eye and lock him away in that wooden box. How could they gather their boy in their arms. . .And bury him alive.

How could they do something like this?

Clark’s jaw clenched with anger. Rage that they would hold on Danny’s behalf.

This should never have happened.

Hal brushed his hand against where Danny gripped Clark’s cape, his dark brows furrowed in concern. Green Lantern poked lightly at the boy. 

Why had this happened?

Daniel flinched lightly as Hal pinched the back of his hand, Clark’s gaze snapped to the other hero. Eyes sharp with irritation and anger, he moved Daniel away from Hal’s prodding.

“What are you doing?” He said, softening his tone as he remembered the trembling teen in his grasp.

“Superman,” Hal said, whites of his eyes looking wide and alarmed. “Look at his hands.”

The horror in Hal’s voice had Clark quickly dripping his gaze to the boy’s hands. Danny had an incredibly strong grip on his cape, and Superman was not inclined to pry the fabric from the boy’s grasp. His view of the child’s hands was limited. . . Even still he could tell that something was wrong.

Deep cracks ran along Daniel’s fingers, which were unnaturally blackened. Several of the boy’s nails were missing, only ragged edges remaining where they’d been ripped off. Others were cracked down to the nail bed, where old blood had beaded up and coagulated into a thick muck. Where the pads of his fingers were visible, Clark could see they were wrinkled and tight, although the boy was thankfully dry. A bump was still visible on the back of Danny’s left hand from where Hal had lightly pinched the skin.

Superman didn’t need to guess at how Daniel’s hands had been torn apart, he’d seen the scratches at the inside of the coffin.

He frowned down at Hal, waiting for an explanation for his alarmed tone. The boy’s hands were likely causing him a good amount of pain, but they were not so bad as to cause outright horror.

“He’s severely dehydrated. He needs medical attention right now.” Hal said softly, obviously trying to avoid alarming the child.

Clark had a sudden sinking feeling, like he’d been dropped from the sky. Daniel Fenton had been buried beneath the Earth for three days. Three. Days.

Three days in that wooden box, tucked into a metal monstrosity. Three days in the cold and dark, without food or water or air. It was a miracle the boy hadn’t suffocated, a miracle he was still alive. Despite his parents’ apparent efforts to be permanently rid of their son.

. . .But if they didn’t get him help soon he may still die from a different killer.

Danny flinched, suddenly pulling away harshly from Clark. He struggled unsuccessfully in the hero’s arms.

“No!” He shouted, sunken blue eyes wide and darting. “No, no hospitals! I can’t- They can’t-!”

Daniel struggled, breath coming rapidly as the boy’s panic grew. Superman shifted his arms to better hold onto the boy, lest he fall and injure himself.

“Danny, it’s okay-“ he started, cut off as Daniel slammed a flailing arm into Clark’s nose.

Ow.

. . . Wait, ‘ ow’?

Hal held up his hands in a placating manner, “No hospitals!” He agreed quickly. “No hospitals, you got it.”

“We have other people who can look at you, okay? No hospitals needed. But you need help, kiddo. Can we help you?”

Danny settled, panting in exhaustion from the effort.

The boy’s unfocused eyes flicked between the two heroes, looking at them without really seeing them. Danny suddenly went limp, his head rolling against Clark’s shoulder as the boy’s eyes shut.

The faint stuttered beating of the child’s heart was the sole thing keeping the hero from descending into panic.

The pair shared a look of fear-laced concern. Superman rose slowly into the air, grip firm on the boy.

“I’m taking him to Gotham.” He said firmly.

Daniel Fenton needed a doctor, desperately needed medical attention. His meta status, his recent trauma, made him distrustful of hospitals. Clark was not going to save the boy just to betray his trust under the guise of help.

But Bruce could supply the much-needed assistance, could offer medical attention without the added stipulation of official hospital status. The Cave giving much needed discretion that the Watchtower could not afford.

And. . . Perhaps Danny would be more at ease under the care of a hero like Batman than a doctor.

An unspoken understanding passed between the two men as Clark sped off into the night.

_______________________________________________

Bruce was altogether unsurprised when Clark had burst into the BatCave carrying the limp form of a teenage boy.

It had been a fair few days since Clark, Hal, and Barry had initially embarked on their mission to check on the Fenton children. A mission that had been prompted by Clark’s discovery of a Reddit post.

A Reddit post that had every hero who learned of it up in arms demanding confirmation that the boy most involved was safe. Given the. . . Presumed severity of the situation, Bruce assumed that the situation had taken a turn for the worse when the trio hadn’t returned after that first day.

Still, a young boy, Damian’s age, being on the verge of death due to dehydration?

Bruce Wayne was conscientious enough to admit that had been an unexpected development. Aware enough to recognize that the issue at hand was about to require his involvement beyond what he’d anticipated.

Batman watched as Alfred carefully inserted the altered needle into Daniel Fenton’s arm. The beginning of a long night for the child as much-needed fluids were reintroduced into his body. He frowned at the vitals displayed upon the monitor, and silently hoped to see a quick improvement.

The Dark Knight cast his gaze towards Superman. Noting the rage barely concealed by concern. It was an expression unfamiliar to his friend’s face. Surely an ill omen.

“Tell me everything.” Bruce said gruffly.

Superman turned towards his friend, readying himself for the debrief he was to give.

“. . . We didn’t see anyone for three days.”

________________________________________________

“Alright, I understand. Thanks, Hal.” Barry said, pulling the phone from his ear and hanging up.

He turned and smiled lightly at the girl, at Jazz Fenton.

“They found your brother. . .” Barry nervously rubbed at his neck as he spoke. “He’s a bit, uh, injured. So they’re taking him to get some medical treatment. He’s going to be alright, though.”

Jazz blinked at him, teal eyes wide. “Oh. . .” She said softly, eyes trailing to her lap where she fidgeted with her fingers. The girl sniffled lightly, picking at the edges of her cuticles.

“Yeah, so. . . Everything is going to be okay now, you don’t have to worry and- are you crying?” Barry asked, alarmed as he noticed tears streaming down the girl’s cheeks.

She nodded her head, digging the heel of a hand into her eyes as a sob was wrenched from her chest.

“I should’ve done more!” She cried, words thick with pain.

“I should’ve stopped them! I knew something was wrong, and I did nothing! It’s my fault Danny is hurt, it’s my fault they hurt him! I didn’t protect him, I didn’t- I didn’t-!” Jazz’s voice broke as she sobbed out her confession. Words stumbling as she gasped wretchedly, her other hand fisting her shirt.

Jasmine Fenton had been incredibly focused, tracking down the heroes when they had taken too long for her liking. She had sought help, and Barry was impressed by just how mature the young girl was.

He saw none of that maturity now, only the desperately crying child she was. And it broke his heart to know that she placed the burden of her brother’s pain on her own shoulders.

Barry moved towards the girl, crouching before her and gently taking her hand in his. He coached her to breathe, to loosen those painful gasps into actual breaths.

“It is not your fault.” He said firmly.

“But I-!”

“None of this is your fault. Jazz, You did nothing wrong.” Barry said, eyes searching the girl’s red, tear-stained face.

“Your parents are the ones who failed Danny, not you. Do you understand?” He asked, watching as the girl’s eyes watered. Barry pressed Jazz’s hand, willing her to hear him.

“It is not easy to go against the people you love, even when they do things that are terrible. You have been so strong . You have been so, so brave. We were able to find Danny because of you, your brother is going to be okay because of you .”

Jazz’s lip wobbled, teal eyes impossibly large.

“You did everything you could do, and it was enough.”

Chapter Text

Google Search: Are Meta Human teenagers__

Are Meta Human teenagers becoming more common?

Are Meta Human teenagers protected by the Meta Human Rights Act?

Are Meta Human teenagers more common in the foster system?

Are Meta Human teenagers tried as adults?

Do all Meta Human teenagers have healing abilities?

Do Meta Human teenagers get denied scholarships?

Am I a Meta Human teenagers?

Are Meta Human teenagers children?

Are Meta Human teenagers human?

Meta Human teenagers warning signs?

______________________________________________

Clark frowned down at the Google results. The auto-fill searches that countless others had once looked into. None of which were the actual question he had been wanting an answer to.

Are Meta Human teenagers harder to place with foster families?

The follow-up question to his rabbit hole search into how he could quickly become a foster parent. The end goal to this absolute nightmare he’d stumbled upon.

Because. . . That was the end goal. Wasn’t it? For him, or someone else from the league, to take Daniel Fenton in and ensure that the boy was safe. Safe from his parents, at the very least. And who better to take care of a meta child than a meta adult? Someone who could handle whatever abilities the boy presented, and could guide him.

Clark could do it. Take Danny in once all the trouble with his parents was squared away, once the boy was well enough. Take both the Fenton children in.

Lois had always wanted more kids, and they were already planning to adopt. Seeing how carrying Jon had taken such a horrible toll on Lois’s body, they had agreed upon adoption to spare her the pain. And Jon would be thrilled to have a brother his age, to have an older sister.

They could handle any problems that might arise due to Danny’s meta status. Either in or out of the foster system.

Daniel and Jasmine Kent sounded better anyways.

“Clark.”

Clark quickly hid his phone, looking up at Bruce. His friend’s steely blue eyes serious and penetrating.

“Yes?”

“. . . put the Google away, Clark.”

He sighed, and pocketed his phone. Overall unsurprised that Bruce had caught him in the act of drowning in Google searches.

There were probably more productive things Clark could be doing at the moment. More productive than scrolling articles on the trials meta-human teens faces in the foster care system. Each issue causing him to grow more and more convinced that Danny might not be any safer in the care of the government than he was in the care of his parents.  Certainly he was running out of paid leave at The Daily Planet. It was just that. . . There was nothing he could do at the moment.

It was a waiting game until Danny woke up.

His eyes drifted from Bruce’s unimpressed expression down to the white sheets of the hospital-grade bed. Where one Daniel Fenton lay, asleep and unaware of the world around him.

“Any updates?” Clark said, keeping his eyes on the sleeping boy.

“Somewhat.” Bruce said, folding his arms across his chest.

Clark hummed, waiting for the other man to elaborate.

“. . . Barry called earlier. The girl is safe from the Drs Fenton for the moment. She’s staying with a friend, apparently. Barry gave her his personal number.” Bruce started in a tone that implied he didn’t necessarily agree with the other hero’s decision.

“As for Daniel Fenton, he is currently suffering from acute dehydration. Alongside minor injuries to his hands and forearms; burns, hairline fractures, and several lacerations. Additionally, his heart rate and blood-oxygen levels are much lower than either I or Dr. Thompkins would like. However, he doesn’t seem to be suffering from it, so it’s possible that is a side effect of his meta abilities.”

Clark watched Bruce from the corner of his eye, absorbing the information with a measure of building rage towards the Drs. Fenton.

“. . . And his genetic tests?” Clark asked.

He turned to properly look up at Bruce when the other man remained silent. Finding his friend with a pensive expression, gaze fixed on Danny. Looking for all the world as if he had discovered a new puzzle.

“I know you ran some.”

“I did.” Bruce replied slowly, “And we have yet to receive any conclusive results.”

“What does that mean?”

“The boy’s DNA is. . .odd. Almost spliced in some way, holding both human DNA and DNA from an unknown source. We did find that the human half of his DNA does not contain the meta-gene. Whatever abilities the boy has, he came by them artificially.”

Clark breathed in sharply, processing what that meant. What it implicated.

What did the Fentons study in again? Something to do with bio-engineering?

Danny’s initial post had off-handedly mentioned an accident, did all this- all of his suffering, stem from that moment in his life?

“As for the boy’s living situation,” Bruce continued, “I have Tim currently compiling as much evidence as he can find to build a case against the Fentons. Something that will force the Illinois DCF to investigate them further. Of course. . . Much of this is depending on what Daniel is willing to tell us when he wakes up.”

Clark blinked at the information.

“You’re going to leave an investigation to the government? That’s not like you, Bruce.”

“Of course not, but we need an in to create a paper trail. DCF will conduct their investigation, and we will launch ours.“

Clark nodded, watching as Alfred rounded the corner. The older man leaned over his newest charge, taking stock of Daniel’s condition before turning and changing out the IV bag for a new one.

The waiting game had never been Clark’s favorite.

______________________________________________

Danny’s head felt full of cotton, or maybe sand. Something stuffy that made it hard to catch any thoughts, creating pressure behind his eyes and in his ears. He clenched his eyes shut against the sensation, and regretted the action as a low throb began at the base of his skull.

Uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable and his mouth was so dry.

With some effort, he dragged his eyes open. The lids felt weighted down by 50 ton bags of cement. Slowly, he lifted a hand to rub at his eyes, rub the sleep away that had accumulated there.

His vision was skewed, images blurring together into smudges of color and unrecognizable shape. Danny squinted, the sudden brightness like a dagger to his skull.

It had been so dark inside the coffin, so tight and cramped, and-

Danny blinked, vision sharpening as his sight adjusted. He frowned, confusing rising slowly and pushing against the stuffiness in his head.

Where. . . Where was he?

Chapter Text

Danny scrubbed at his eyes, squinting up at the ceiling. Far-distant stalactites reached their stony fingers down towards where laid. Dark shapes flittered in the crevices.

. . .Were those bats? Was he in a cave? A. . .bat. . .cave?

Ah. So it took three days in complete isolation for him to completely lose his mind. That was good to know, if not kind of disappointing. Danny had thought he was mentally stronger than that.

He let his hand fall, landing on the soft bedding. Still, retreating into a fictional place his mind conjured up to protect him wasn’t exactly the worst development to come out of this week.

At least he wouldn’t have to stare into those walls anymore. Feel them closing in are he clawed at the wood only to shatter his nails against the outer metal box. Scratching and pleading until his voice gave to just be let out. That he was alive, alive, he was still alive, Mom please-

His eyes snapped shut against the memories.

This was Danny’s hallucinated bat-infested cave, he shouldn’t have to deal with painful memories here! Otherwise, what was even the point of retreating into his mind? Wouldn’t the whole purpose be completely useless then?

Right.

He should just put all bad memories out of his head and enjoy whatever it was his mind conjured up. Who knew how much longer he’d be in the- the coffin.

As much as it sucked, he had to wait for someone to come rescue him. Jazz or Sam or Tucker. . . Maybe even Valerie, she would definitely notice his absence. And it’s not like anyone would actually believe he was dead.

Or. . . More dead.

Yeah.

He would just wait. Wait and ignore the situation at hand, ignore that his parents had buried him alive, ignore that the human half of him might be in danger of fully dying, ignore that he felt like he was forgetting something.

Danny cracked open his eyes to blearily observe his surroundings. As his gaze focused, he realized that the ceiling was actually made of a thick glass, and beyond it was the cave of bats. Kind of a unique architectural feature. Beyond that. . .There was something distinctly medical about the room he was in. With the blank white walls and medical technology displaying his vitals. At least, he assumed they were his vitals. Given the inhumanly slow heartbeat on the monitor and the IV bag that seemed connected to his right hand. A thick white curtain closed off the area from what Danny could only assume was the exit.

Kudos were due to his subconscious, he supposed, for crafting something so believable.

The boy grunted as he pushed himself into a sitting position, frowning down at the needle in his hand.

Well now that had to go. This was his subconscious and he didn’t want it there.

“I would not do that, young sir.” A polished voice stopped Danny in his tracks. His left hand paused in the air above his right.

He snapped his head towards the front of the room, blinking rapidly when his vision began swimming at the movement. An elderly man entered the room, pushing the white curtain to the side as he did.

Danny had heard somewhere that the human mind could not make up a face. And that every person you saw in a dream, had a real-life counterpart that you had encountered before. He could not remember ever having met such a distinguished gentleman before. Which was unfortunate.

The man seemed worth remembering.

He approached Danny slowly, in a way that made it clear he was telegraphing his movements. Yet there was a sureness to his motions as he checked the IV bag and vitals, piling pillows behind Danny. The actions of someone doing something they’ve done a thousand times before.

Danny squinted up at the man, trying to puzzle out where he’d seen him before. He must’ve made an impression, to feature so heavily in his made-up world.

The elderly man gently pushed the boy back onto the pillows, letting him rest in an inclined position.

Yeah. He had no idea where he would’ve seen this guy before.

“Who are you?” Danny asked.

Or, tried to ask. His voice came out raspy and harsh, the question ending in a coughing fit that wracked his body.

The man pressed a cool glass of water into his hand, steadying Danny with a gloved hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t seen the man pour it, but still Danny accepted it gratefully. Taking in a large mouthful to try and ease the pain in his chest.

He blinked in surprise at the taste. It was. . . Weirdly salty, but good. Danny quickly drained the glass.

It was weird for his subconscious to give him salt water, but who was Danny to judge?

“Thank you.” He said as the man took the empty glass from him.

Danny cleared his throat and asked his question again, wanting to know the identity of the man helping him.

“That is Agent A.” Came a deep, grumbling voice from the front of the room.

Danny turned his gaze towards the voice, eyes widening as he watched the two men enter the room.

Was that. . .?

“It’s good to see you’re awake! We were worried about you.” Said the larger man, a genuine smile on his face.

“Hm. It is. . . A relief to see you awake so soon. Severe dehydration and oxygen deprivation can have serious repercussions on the body.”

Danny blinked. There was no way.

“I’m sure you probably have questions.” The man chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Which will be answered in time.” Said the other, a frown evident on the visible part of his face.

Danny didn’t move, could hardly breathe.

Because it was.

And that was what he had been forgetting. The thundering rain, being taken out of that box -out of that cemetery, and feeling safe. Because he’d been found, he’d been rescued, he’d been saved.

This wasn’t a dream, or some hopeful hallucination. Danny had actually been saved.

He’d been saved by Superman.

Superman frowned down at him, “Daniel? How are you feeling?”

Danny stared unblinking at Superman and Batman.

Beside him, the heart monitor flatlined.

Chapter Text

Bruce was not a very reactive man. It was particularly hard to garner a reaction from him when it came to surprises. Likely because he was a particularly difficult man to surprise.

Watching a fourteen year old boy flatline, yet remain breathing and alive, definitely qualified as surprising.

Clark could was instantly next to the boy, hands fluttering nervously in the air above the bed. Obviously wanting to do something, but unsure of what it was he could do. Bruce stayed back, watching the boy’s wide blue eyes track Clark’s quick movements.

That was interesting.

Beyond obviously being surprised, Daniel Fenton did not seem to be in any distress. Was overall calm. Well, calm enough, given his situation.

Alfred seemed to come to the same conclusion Bruce did. Turning towards the boy as he finished adjusting the IV bag. 

“If you would be so kind as to restart your heartbeat, young master Daniel.”

The boy blinked, turning his head towards Alfred. A small sheepish smile spread across his face as he scratched nervously at his jaw.

“Oh. Sorry. . .” Daniel said, the mechanical beeping of the heart monitor replacing the flat line.

Nervous and embarrassed. . .this wasn’t a new tic for the boy. He was aware that his heart could stop, to very little (if any) detriment. Given how Clark had found him, Bruce knew the boy could go prolonged periods of time with limited oxygen supply. Could likely go periods of time without needing to breathe at all.

Well, there had to be some reasons as to why his parents had believed the boy to be dead.

Meta abilities were still not very common, and no one could truly guess how they would manifest. The small amount of evidence they had gathered  (from Clark’s expedition to Amity Park, research into the Fenton family, and the boy’s online post) indicated that his meta abilities had arisen from a lab accident of some sort. The most uncommon and unpredictable way to gain meta abilities.

Abilities which seemed mimicked death; or the state of dying, at least.

That didn’t excuse the horrid actions the Drs. Fenton had taken regarding their fourteen year old child.

Clark stilled in his fretting, eyes flickering between the boy and the monitor as if reassuring himself that the child’s heart was truly still beating. If Bruce was a betting man, he’d wager that Clark’s inhuman heart was thrumming faster than normal.

“Does. . . This happen often?” Clark asked slowly.

Daniel gave a one shouldered shrug, dropping his gaze to his hands. “Sometimes.” The boy murmured.

Alfred settled a glass and pitcher on the small table beside the boy. Moving to exit the room and give the pair the chance to speak with Daniel.

“. . .Okay.” Clark said breathlessly, looking towards Bruce with a small amount of alarm.

Alfred gave Bruce a stern look as he passed. Don’t make the boy uncomfortable ; the elderly man’s expression warned of consequences should Daniel be made to feel. . . Odd, in regards to his meta abilities.

Message received loud and clear, Agent A.

Batman moved to sit at the edge of the bed, positioning himself in a way that made him appear less intimidating. If he could truly have everything go his way. . . Bruce would have preferred to delay the conversation they were about to have. Spare the boy some pain before the trauma that was undoubtedly about to occur. As it was, postponement was not an option. There were too many unknowns, and not enough answers.

To help Daniel to the fullest extent, they had to know the scope of his meta abilities. How he had obtained them, and what had lead to his parents burying him alive.

Which likely meant making the boy relive traumatic memories.

They would have to go slowly, they could afford that much mercy at least.

Batman cleared his throat, gaining the boy’s attention. “Firstly, I want you to know that you are safe here. The Cave has nearly impenetrable security, and at the moment no-one, besides a select few, are even aware of your presence here.”

He paused as the boy absorbed the information. Pale blue eyes observing him unblinkingly.

Hn. This must be how members of the Justice League felt when Bruce leveled them with a glare.

“Additionally, you will not be treated differently because of your meta abilities. Although, we may need to know the scope of your abilities, so as to provide better treatment.”

To better know what they were dealing with.

The boy flinched at the word ‘meta’, quickly dropping his gaze to focus on his hands. Fidgeting with the edge of the sheets.

Superman leaned forward slightly, resting a hand gently on the boy’s shoulder. Daniel didn’t flinch or shy away from the touch. A neutral sign, if not a particularly good one.

“Daniel, do you remember how I found you? How you came to. . .” He trailed off, not wanting to explicitly say the words.

“Be buried alive by my parents?” Daniel said in a flat tone, keeping his eyes on his hands.

“Yeah. I do. And it’s Danny. Not Daniel.”

Chapter Text

Of course Danny knew why his parents had. . . Well, why they’d done what the did. It was actually pretty simple.

They’d found out.

Still. Knowing why, didn’t mean that he really believed that it had happened. It was unbelievable that the people who had raised him, had loved him his whole life. . . Could turn so suddenly against him. That the same hands that had tucked him into bed at night, had dug his grave.

Danny didn’t want to believe that they’d thrown him away. Buried him like he hadn’t mattered at all.

But they had, and Danny couldn’t deny that it had really happened. Not to himself, and certainly not to the two men standing before him.

Superman cast an uneasy glance towards where Batman sat on the bed’s edge.

He wondered if the man had hoped Danny had developed some kind of amnesia about the incident. If he’d hoped that Danny’s subconscious would grant him the mercy of forgetting.

Danny felt sorry to disappoint Superman, but he could never be so lucky.

“Do you know why your parents would want to harm you?” Batman asked, his voice clinical and to the point.

The boy stared at him for a moment, before dropping his gaze to his hands. He picked at the scabs that had formed around his left thumb. Remnants of when he’d ripped off the nail trying to claw his way out of the coffin.

Why? Why had his parents done this? He knew why. And the why of it all probably answered the rest of Batman’s questions.

And could throw him into an ever worse situation, if the men before him reacted poorly.

After all, being accepting of aliens and super-humans was not the same as being accepting of ghosts.

But he could handle that. He could handle any rejection that came his way as long as-

“Is my sister okay?”

“Hm?”

Danny looked up, meeting the eyes of both heroes. “My sister.” He said, “Jazz Fenton, is she safe?”

Superman cleared his throat, a tight smile stretching across his face. “She’s alright, we made sure she had a safe place to go before we left. Last I was told, she’s staying with a Sam Manson?”

Sam? That was good. Sam’s parents seemed to genuinely like Jazz, they’d let her stay for a while.

He doubted their parents would notice her absence. There had been so much that went unseen and undetected.

Until it hadn’t.

Danny stared up at the man, the Superman . He really was larger than life, being this close was almost the most unbelievable part of the whole situation. There was an uncanny valley quality to his appearance that probably would’ve bothered Danny more if he, himself, was not more un canny than canny . A definitive otherworldliness. The Superman, Kal-El of the planet Krypton.

“Can you promise me she’ll be safe? That no matter what I tell you, you’ll keep my sister safe?” Danny asked, voice edging into a pleasing tone.

If he couldn’t keep Jazz safe, then who could? Danny certainly couldn’t, he hadn’t even been able to keep himself safe. But. . . Danny also knew that everyone had their limits, and everyone was prone to make some kind of mistake.

Maybe taking responsibility for the safety of two random kids would be seen as a mistake by the two heroes.

“We will do everything we can to keep both you and your sister safe.”

It was Batman who spoke, answering for both men.

Danny eyed the man from the corner of his eye, unable to discern any expression from beneath the cowl. Yet, he could feel the sincerity. And he wanted to believe that despite whatever he said, whatever truths he revealed, they really would protect him and Jazz.

“Your parents will never hurt you again.”

There was a finality to the Batman’s words. Like the world would rewrite itself to ensure that what he said remained the truth.

. . .Danny wasn’t entirely positive that the Batman wasn’t some kind of cryptid.

But, If he was going to put his trust in two strangers, why shouldn’t he trust the alien and (possible) cryptid who had dedicated their lives to helping others? To saving others?

Wasn’t Danny worth saving?

He deflated, sinking into the pile of fluffy pillows behind him.

“I doubt they saw it as hurting me.” Danny said softly, lowering his gaze under the weight of what he was about to say.

What he was about to have to confess.

“What do you mean?” Superman asked, sounding confused.

Danny shrugged a shoulder, “I mean, I doubt they saw it as me they were harming.”

“. . . Can you elaborate?”

“My parents. . . Are experts in a very limited field,” he huffed a laugh without humor. “They’re probably the only experts in the whole world. ”

“They’re ecto -biologists, meaning that they study that which is of an ectoplasmic, spectral, or otherwise incorporeal nature.” Danny said, repeating words that he’d heard a thousand times.

“It was all purely theoretical.”

“Until?” Superman prompted, hand light against Danny’s shoulder.

Feeling suddenly very far away from his body, and simultaneously locked in place. He looked down at his hands, icy blue eyes tracing the faint remnants of a burn scar on the back of his right hand.

He tasted iron as he spoke.

“Until a portal to another dimension opened on top of me.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a nice story.

Danny knew that, he’d (kinda) lived through it.

But he had thought that two superheroes, who undoubtedly had seen and heard much worse, wouldn’t have much of a reaction.

He’d been wrong.

There wasn’t much to be said about Batman’s reaction. Given that the cowl covered everything except his mouth, which was set in a deep frown. Superman’s was a different story, with a mix of growing concern and horror as Danny continued to speak.

And once he started, it was almost like he couldn’t stop.

Danny told them about how his parents had spent over two decades testing and developing the technology to create the FentonPortal. A doorway designed with the intention of ripping through the fabric of their seen reality, into that theoretical place where they believed ghosts existed. He told them how their portal had been an initial failure. Failing to start up when they had completed it.

It had been for a dumb reason; his parents had placed the ‘on’ switch within the portal itself, rather than on the outside. A perfect placement for Danny to accidentally slam his hand into when he’d gone into the portal on a dare from his friends.

Opening what his parents thought was their doorway into the Ghost Zone.

In actuality, it had been a gateway into the Infinite Realms. That place between dimensions, that connected every reality and every afterlife together.

So, technically, his parents had been right. It was a place where ghosts existed.

And it was from their portal that ghosts started to creep into their world and cause mayhem.

As ghost sighting and attacks became more common, it became increasingly apparent that his parents were less interested in studying ghosts, than hunting them. Crafting weapons and traps geared towards harming the entities that came through the FentonPortal.

Or maybe that was just how they had decided to go about conducting their investigations. Trying to capture a specimen to perform vivisections or dissections on.

Whatever the case, his parents held a huge prejudice against the inhabitants of the Infinite Realms.

“When the FentonPortal turned on, it. . .changed me.” Danny said.

He flipped his hands over, letting them vanish and reappear. One of the few simple party tricks he could do in his more human form.

“I didn’t tell my parents because I was. . . I was afraid that they’d treat me differently. Or do something to me.”

“So I hid it from them, what happened I mean. But then I started having really bad reactions to the stuff in the lab, all their weapons and technology. Some of them were made with the goal of destabilizing ghosts into pure ectoplasm, so I guess it makes sense that it would burn me every time I came in contact with it.”

“I think that’s what tipped them off that something wasn’t right.” Danny half heartedly shrugged a shoulder. “They don’t see ghosts as being intelligent, emotional beings. And they didn’t listen when I tried to tell them that I’m not really a ghost.”

“I think they thought. . . That I really had died . And that my body was just being possessed by a ghost. So they didn’t see it as burying me alive, I bet they saw it as putting me to rest.”

Danny tilted his head back, looking through the glass ceiling and up to the cave ceiling beyond. He couldn’t look at the heroes. He didn’t want to.

Batman and Superman were silent in the wake of his story.

To be fair, Danny wasn’t sure how he’d react if he was in their position. So, he wasn’t going to hold their silence against them. It was a lot of information; a lot of information that was borderline completely unbelievable.

If he wasn’t talking to an actual alien and a maybe-cryptid, he’s not sure they would believe him.

Batman broke the silence, his gruff voice strangely soft. “I am very sorry that happened to you. It must have been hard, and incredibly scary at times.”

Danny half-hysterical laugh escaped around the sudden tightness in his throat. There was something funny about Batman saying the word “scary”. Like it was too childish for the man to say.

But. . . It had been scary. Danny had been scared, for so long.

“And,” Batman continued, voice dropping to just above a whisper. “You must have felt very alone.”

The boy scrubbed at his eyes, trying desperately to rub away the burn of rising tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of Batman and Superman, he wasn’t.

Superman cleared his throat, “That never should have happened, we’re going to make sure they face consequences for their actions. Legally, if nothing else. . .” He trailed off awkwardly.

Danny sniffed, peering curiously at the two. “Legally?”

“Yes.” Batman said. “We will be compiling an extensive file, utilizing your and your sister’s witness statements.”

He gave Danny a considering look. Or at least Danny thought he did, the whites of his eyes were very hard to read.

“Although, you will never have to see them again if you do not want to.”

“. . . Right.” Danny said.

He didn’t know if he wanted to see his parents again. Hadn’t really considered it. And now? He didn’t want to dwell too long on the thought when it made him feel so. . . Bad.

“What’s going to happen to me though? Where am I gonna go?” He asked, voice small and unsure.

Superman and Batman shared a look before Superman looked down at the boy, a gentle smile on his face.

“How about you focus on getting better first. We’ll be looking into finding a family to place you with. One that will be equipped to give you the support you need to heal.”

Batman cleared his throat.

“One that will also be equipped to help you handle and develop your meta abilities. As well as ensure you maintain the rights provided by the Meta Protection Acts.” He added.

Danny frowned at this.

He could appreciate that Batman was trying to soothe him that he wouldn’t be placed with someone that would abuse or experiment on him ( unlike his parents). After all, it was the fact that he wasn’t human anymore that had landed Danny in this position. But, it wasn’t as if the Meta Protection Acts did anything for him. They didn’t apply to him.

He thought he’d been pretty clear when he describe his death to the heroes.

“I’m. . . not a meta. I died when the portal turned on, just. . . not all the way. I’m half- dead, ” Danny shook his head, “not a meta.”

Superman’s hand was gentle against Danny’s shoulder. He looked up at the soft, considering expression on the man’s face. It was like the hero was desperately trying to convince Danny of something, but was resigned to the fact that it would take a while to do so.

“‘Meta’ is a broad term. Aliens, such as myself or Martian Manhunter, count as ‘metas’. So do the Amazons and Atlantians. Meta- human applies to any human with supernatural abilities. The Meta Protection Act encompasses all intelligent life forms that are beyond normal human beings.”

Danny frowned, “But the Ghost Investigation Ward said the government doesn’t consider ghosts to fall under the protection of the Meta Rights Act. Ghosts are not considered intelligent life forms. My parents could do anything to me and it be legal. The Government could do anything to me.”

“. . . What.”

_________________________________________________

Hung Justice

Tim to Hung Justice:

Guys you’re not gonna believe this.

Conner to Hung Justice:

I believe most things atp

Tim to Hung Justice:

Remember that Reddit post that got everyone’s attention?

Bart to Hung Justice:

Ya ofc my grandpa just got back from investkmigatinh

Bart to Hung Justice:

*investigating

Conner to Hung Justice:

Do you call Barry “grandpa” to his face? Or just to us

Bart to Hung Justice:

He’s my grandpa??? Why wouldn’t I call him grandpa

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Well he’s like 35 so. . .

Bart to Hung Justice:

Time travel doesn’t care for ur familial normalletgs

Bart to Hung Justice:

*normalities

Tim to Hung Justice:

The kid who made the post is at the cave right now, and I overheard him telling his story to B and Clark.

Conner to Hung Justice:

*eavesdropping

Jaime to Hung Justice:

*spying

Tim to Hung Justice:

OVERHEARD.

Tim to Hung Justice:

Anyways apparently the kid is like a zombie or something? Oh and the government has it out for him.

Several people are typing. . . .

Chapter Text

HUNG JUSTICE

Bart to Hung Justice:

The government?? Like the AMERICAN government???

Connor to Hung Justice:

I thought the kid was in trouble with his parents, not the feds?

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Pause. Why is the government after a random kid from Illinois?

Jaime to Hung Justice:

Am I the only one who thinks we moved past “zombie” too quickly???? 

Connor to Hung Justice:

Scared of the zombie uprising, Jaime?

Jaime to Hung Justice:

Are you NOT scared of the zombie uprising???

Bart to Hung Justice:

Tim’s family IS the zombie uprising

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Are you claiming you’re not afraid of the bats?

Bart to Hung Justice:

…pass

Jaime to Hung Justice:

Lmaoooo

Jaime to Hung Justice:

Still not convinced they aren’t metas tbh. 

Bart to Hung Justice:

Ya. For claiming to be normal humans, you guys are suspwivouk hard to kill.

Bart to Hung Justice:

*suspiciously

Tim to Hung Justice:

Have you considered that everyone else is just easy to kill?

Cassie to Hung Justice:

No, I think everyone else is the normal level of difficulty to kill, actually

Tim to Hung Justice:

Sounds like a skill issue tbh.

Connor to Hung Justice:

They’re not hard to kill, it’s just hard to make sure they STAY kilt

Cassie to Hung Justice:

I don’t think you’re using that word properly

Connor to Hung Justice:

I’m using it the way I want to use it

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Fair enough

Jaime to Hung Justice:

Can we please get back to the zombie in Tim’s basement that is apparently wanted by the government?

Tim to Hung Justice:

On second consideration, I don’t think “zombie” is the proper term to describe him. I think he’s something else.

Jaime to Hung Justice:

It’s concerning how unhelpful you’re being rn.

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Right, the issue at hand. How old is the kid again? 

Tim to Hung Justice:

Around Damian’s age, so 14-15 I would guess. 

Bart to Hung Justice:

Omg he’s a baby 

Tim to Hung Justice:

I will pay you to call Damian a baby to his face. 

Bart to Hung Justice:

Can you Guatemala my safety? 

Bart to Hung Justice:

*guarantee

Tim to Hung Justice:

You can outrun him. 

Cassie to Hung Justice:

That's a no. 

Bart to Hung Justice:

Pass. I choose life 

Connor to Hung Justice:

Starting to get interested in this kid, looking forward to meeting him when Clark brings him home

Cassie to Hung Justice:

He’s not a dog!

Tim to Hung Justice:

What makes you think Clark is getting the kid?

Connor to Hung Justice:

Vibes I guess? Lois said he’s been really bothered by this whole situation.

Tim to Hung Justice:

Well the kid has black hair and blue eyes so I’m pretty sure I’m getting a new brother.

Connor to Hung Justice:

Don’t you dare let him steal my new nephew

Bart to Hung Justice:

Clark v Bruce custodey battle was not on my bingo card for this year

Bart to Hung Justice:

*custody

Cassie to Hung Justice:

That one wasn’t too bad, you could’ve let it slide

Jaime to Hung Justice:

WHAT DOES THE GOVERNMENT WANT WITH A 14 YR OLD 

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Shout-out to Jaime for keeping us on track

Jaime to Hung Justice:

I’m using Tim’s card to get all of you adderall prescriptions.

Bart to Hung Justice:

Lmao 

Cassie to Hung Justice:

Lmao

Connor to Hung Justice:

Lmao

Tim to Hung Justice:

Don’t waste adderall like that, it won’t even work on them.

Tim to Hung Justice:

This might necessitate an in-person conversation.

Bart to Hung Justice:

Oooooo are we going to commit treason again?

Cissie to Hung Justice:

I mute the chat for ONE HOUR

_____________________________________________

         Tim lazily scanned the screens before him. Files, documents and diagrams. The most recent report from Nightwing was slowly making its way across the leftmost screen. Uploaded from wherever he was that night. 

      Blüdhaven? Or was his oldest brother in Jump City this week?

     It hardly mattered, most of Tim’s attention was on the tablet directly in front of him. The screen split between his conversation with his team, and a continued analysis of the DNA collected from the boy currently resting in the Cave’s med bay. 

       As blunt and insensitive as it probably was, Tim could understand why the government (allegedly) had it out for the kid. 

     Daniel Fenton’s DNA sequence was a mess. There were spots that the BatComputer couldn’t synthesize or determine. Entire genomes that were missing or indecipherable, genetic sequences that were backwards and upside down. The boy was human in the loosest sense. The same way that Connor could be considered human because human DNA had filled in the holes left by replicating Kryptonian genes.

       Tim tilted his head in consideration, he wasn’t a geneticist by any stretch. Daniel Fenton’s genome did remind him of Connor’s, actually. The same way that human genome typing had covered the blanks in Kryptonian sequencing, this unknown genetic material was covering the blanks in Danny’s human genomes. It was actually incredibly fascinating.

. . . Maybe Tim should look into becoming a geneticist. Take some classes, at the very least. It would come in handy, especially if he kept finding himself in these situations. 

     At any rate, he had the device sitting in a way that Bruce wouldn’t immediately see if (when) he walked up to Tim. There would be a few precious seconds where Tim could switch the screen and claim innocence. This, of course, depended entirely on Tim hearing Bruce approach. 

     So, there was between a 70-30 and an 80-20 percent chance he’d be caught. With the odds not stacked in his favor. 

     Caught. Like a misbehaving child or rebellious teenager trying to hide their shame from their father. The word implied that Tim was doing something he shouldn’t, which was ridiculous because Tim was an adult and could do as he pleased. 

    Even if Bruce had asked (demanded) complete compliance and respect on this matter. 

       Afterall, at the end of the day they were dealing with a traumatized child. Regardless of what baggage the boy was bringing with him, status as the government's most-wanted and access to an interdimensional rift put aside. Superman had wanted to act carefully, and Batman was going to back him up on this. 

     Truly, Tim hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on what the kid was saying. Not really. He’d just so happened to be in the cave at the same time the boy woke up. Had just happened to hear the monitor go off, had just happened to wander over and make sure things were okay. Honestly, it was all a coincidence that he’d been in the right place at the right time to overhear everything.

     At least, that’s what he’d say if anyone asked. Not that anyone who knew him would believe it, but that’s the story he’d give regardless. 

   Two sets of footsteps approached, accompanied by the low voices of Bruce and Clark as they spoke. Tim quickly exited the screen that held Danny’s data, pulling up a series of maps and diagrams related to old cases. 

The older men’s conversation taped off as they approached the BatComputer, catching sight of Tim sitting before the monitors. He tried to feign disinterest, pretending to be entirely caught up in Nightwing’s report.

“. . . I will keep you updated on the boy.” Bruce said.

“Thank you. But, I can come by again tomorrow. First thing, it’s really no trouble-“

“Clark. Go home. Get some rest. He’s safe.”

“Right. . .Right.” Clark said, voice growing softer as he moved away and towards the Zeta tubes. 

Bruce walked with him, likely continuing parts of their conversation that they did not want Tim to currently overhear. Still, Tim focused on the screens before him. Scanning Red Hood’s brief report that had just been updated. 

Hmm. It seemed like the Cave would be seeing the second eldest Wayne child soon. The second Alfred found out about these ‘light injuries’ he’d force Jason into the bed next to Danny. 

Jason did have a habit of downplaying his injuries, much to his own detriment.

Tim waved his hand absently in response to Superman’s brief farewell, the goodbye drowned out by the activation of the Zeta tube.

He spun in the chair, completely unsurprised to see Bruce staring down at him from behind the cowl. 

His father pulled off the cowl, eyes flickering between Tim and the various screens behind him. Tablet included. Bruce rubbed a hand along his jaw, the only outward indication Tim would get that something was wrong.

“We need to talk.” Bruce said.

Chapter Text

Bruce stared down at his son. Tim’s expression the perfect picture of unsuspecting innocence.

He didn’t believe it for a second.

He folded his arms across his chest, considering the boy. 

“What information did you share with your team?”

Tim blinked, a thin smile spreading across his face.

“What team?”

If Tim truly wanted to hide something from him, Bruce would never know until it was too late.

Tim sighed, leaning back in the chair and folding his fingers across his stomach. 

“Just the bare minimum, it’s not like I know all the details.” He said airily, eyes drifting to where med-bay was located. 

“What exactly have you shared, Tim.” Bruce said firmly.

“Almost nothing!”

“Timothy.”

“I said that there was a kid here, rescued by Superman- Which Conner already knew about, by the way- and that he’s possibly non-human and in some kind of trouble with the government.” He said, holding his hands palm up in a placating gesture.

“So, practically nothing! Bare minimum details, like I said.”

“Hm. . .”

“You and Supes should be quieter if you want this to be a secret, by the way.” 

“It’s not a secret.” Bruce said.

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” Bruce sighed, arms dropping to his sides. “It’s not. The situation requires. . . Some discretion, and caution. But it is not a secretive matter.”

“Right.” Tim said, drawing out the vowel and eyeing Bruce with disbelief.

Bruce closed his eyes, willing away the headache that loomed in the near distance.

“Danny’s parents work in a field they call ectobiology. From what little we have gathered, it appears to deal with the science of the occult and inter-dimensional access. And they are competent enough in their field, and have enough tangible evidence, to gather governmental support and interest.” He said, opening his eyes and pinning Tim with his stare.

“Moreover, there are substances in their possession that appear to have the ability to alter human DNA. We believe this is what happened with Danny, although he describes it differently.” 

“This change in his DNA caused a severely abusive reaction from his parents, although we have reason to suspect long-term neglect.” Bruce finished.

Tim blinked, absorbing the information before narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

Why indeed?

Beyond the fact that neither Bruce nor Clark were truly making an effort to conceal this from anyone, there was a reason Bruce was sharing this information so willingly. Sharing so willingly with Tim, out of all of his children.

“. . . The members of the League most involved in this case are too high-profile to go unnoticed in a town like Amity Park, even as civilians. If you are. . .interested, I would request that your team investigate the Fentons.”

Tim drummed his fingers against his stomach, tilting his head slightly. 

“Why my team? Why not ask Dick or the Titans?”

Whatever was happening in Amity Park seemed to be impacting the younger generations. Children Damian’s age, if Danny was to be an example. Bruce wasn’t yet sure if it was proximity, age, or just something about Danny that had led the boy to be as he was. But he didn’t want to risk it. 

Damian’s iteration of the Teen Titans were competent heroes in their own right, but they were also the youngest of them. Bruce was hesitant to send them off to investigate an unknown, when that same unknown had already landed a child in the BatCave’s medbay.

How does one admit to keeping one son from danger, while throwing the other head on into the fire?

“Dick already has his plate full with Blüdhaven, and the Titans would stick out more than your team. Amity Park is a small town.”

I.E. a group of unattended young teenagers would be noticed faster than a group of college aged young adults. Particularly in a small town where everyone knew everyone.

“We would need your team to investigate the Fentons and their link to the government. Why there’s so much interest in their work, and what the government is gaining from the partnership. As well as gather evidence of abuse or neglect of their children.”

Tim stared at Bruce unblinkingly. Hearing all the Bruce wouldn’t or couldn’t say. 

“. . . I’m open to the possibility.”

Bruce cleared his throat, straightening up.

“Good. Well…I’ll make sure things are going accordingly here. Particularly with the boy.”

Tim hummed, swirling around in the chair to face the screen. “About the kid…You might want to warn Jason. He’s on his way.”

Bruce froze and looked up at the screen, watching his second eldest son’s tracker blink its way closer to the cave.

“Guess Alfred tore him a new one about ignoring his injuries, again.”

_____________________________________________

Jasmine Fenton sat on the edge of her baby brother’s best friend’s bed, and stared into the middle distance. Fiddling with the phone in her hands as her thoughts wandered. It had only been a handful of days, but it felt like a lifetime had passed.

Sam’s pajamas were a touch too small, the guest bed a bit too big and too soft. The uncanny strangeness of residing in a place that wasn’t meant for you. She had never been a fan of sleepovers.

It wasn’t that Jazz was uncomfortable, Sam’s family had been ceaselessly understanding and kind. It was just that. . . Jazz wanted to go home. But there wasn’t a home for her to go back to.

Because any place where Danny wasn’t welcome or safe couldn’t be her home.

Not that the Drs Fenton had even noticed the absence of their daughter. Two days since she had managed to escape from her room, and they had yet to reach out. Yet to search for her, yet to try and bring her home. 

Would they ever notice? Did they even care?

Did she want them to care?

“Here.”

Something warm and hard lightly tapped against her temple. Jazz looked up and saw Sam, small frown on her face, extending a steaming mug towards Jazz. 

“Oh. Thank you.” Jazz murmured, taking the mug from Sam.

She stared down at the steaming brown liquid, wrinkling her nose at the earthy smell. 

“What is this?” 

Jazz would never be so rude as to outright deny a drink offered to her by a friend, but her life experiences demanded that she at least ask what was in the mug.

Sam sighed, dropping onto the mattress. The bed dipped from Sam’s weight, her shoulder knocking against Jazz’s as the girl settled beside her.

“Chaga tea. My Baba made it for you, she says it’s supposed to help with stress. . .” She shrugged one shoulder, feigning disinterest.

“Oh. . .”

Jazz blew on the tea, taking a tentative sip. Finding the taste to be mildly earthy, but pleasant. Faintly reminding her of coffee.

“It’s. . .good?” Jazz offered. 

It would be better with milk and sugar but she didn’t have the energy to bother her host with the request.

Sam leaned back on her hands, seemingly satisfied with Jazz’s actions. She watched the older girl’s actions as she leaned forward and settled the mug on the nightstand. 

They slid into silence, Jazz’s gaze dropping to the phone in her hands. WayneTech, not FentonWorks, a gift from Sam the night before. One that Jazz wouldn’t have accepted if she’d had another choice. But it was either the gifted phone, or continue to use one of her parents’ devices.

That simply wasn’t an option. Not when Jazz still held hope that Danny would somehow contact her. They couldn’t risk the Drs Fenton being able to track her brother’s location through their own tech. She would never give them access to him again. 

“. . . Have you heard anything? From Danny, I mean.”

Without her colored contacts, the other girl’s eyes were dark and piercing. Ringed with the purple circles of lost sleep. 

A look that was likely mirrored on Jazz’s face.

Jazz sniffed and shook her head, “No. Nothing.”

Not that she really expected to. She had messaged the number given to her by Mr. Barry, and he had promised that the second he was able he would have Danny contact her.

But she didn’t know when that would be. And she had no idea how her brother was faring. 

Sam sniffed, “Well. . . I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jazz blinked, turning partially to look at the younger girl.

“Danny is always fine. You’ll see.” She said firmly.

It was hard to tell who Sam was trying to convince, Jazz or herself. Jazz eyed the girl, an unconvinced expression on her face.

“Are you going to write something?” Sam asked abruptly,  pointing to the phone in Jazz’s hands.

She looked down a the screen, open to a Reddit thread. A blinking cursor mocked her from the comments section.

Jazz shrugged half heartedly. “I don’t know. . .”

“Might make you feel better.”

Jazz hummed noncommittally. Reaching out to strangers on the internet was not really her thing. . .but then again, she hadn’t thought it was Danny’s thing either.

Still, it was a bit different. Jazz wasn’t Danny. She was supposed to be the one to have everything together, she was supposed to be the one who was emotionally strong. Wouldn’t posting online be an admission that she couldn’t be?

Wouldn’t it be admitting that she failed Danny?

“Tucker thinks so too.” Sam pushed.

Jazz turned to the younger girl, arching an eyebrow. 

“The two of you talk about me, huh?”

“Sometimes.” Sam said bluntly.

Ouch.

“…Danny thought it was a good outlet, maybe you would too.” Sam said, flopping backwards onto the bed.

Jazz looked down at her phone, at that blinking icon, and began typing.

Chapter Text

u/LifeOfATeenageTherapist • 8 hr. ago

Hi everyone. I am u/ActuallyUndead, or OP’s, sister.

I wasn’t going to post or comment. I’ve been debating for a few days now if I should, but I think he’d want for you all to have an update. And our friends have been encouraging me to give one, so here it goes. I’m still going to try and keep some anonymity, so I’m sorry for any confusion.

My brother severely downplayed his allergy. And he downplayed the injury that led to his allergy to begin with. It was way way worse, and there’s no way to truly avoid his specific allergen in our house because the thing he is allergic to has contaminated nearly every surface due to our parents’ work.

I’ve been helping him hide the severity from our parents, because he was afraid they would think that HE was contaminated. And they handle contaminated living beings in a horrible manner. So I helped my brother by taking care of him when he had these flare ups, and hid it from our parents.

I know now that wasn’t the best thing to do. I know now that I should have reached out to an adult who could take us away from them. But it’s easy to see when someone else is in an abusive situation, and it’s almost impossible to see when you’re the one being abused. I thought I was doing the right thing…

When my brother caved to our parents’ demands and cleaned the lab, he had the worst flare up ever. I was scared I was actually going to lose him this time, so I left to try and get whatever I could to make him better. And when I was gone, our parents found him. 

They reacted worse than I could’ve imagined, and took him away. Not to get help, but to do something awful to him. And when they returned they said my brother was dead.

They lied about that.

I won’t go into it, but my brother was rescued by someone.

They found my brother and were able to get him to get the help he needed. I think. I don’t know where he is right now but I’m hoping he’s safe. 

I’m staying with a friend. I refuse to go back, I can’t even look at those people anymore. Not after what they did.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now, I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I’m too young to take custody of my brother, even if I was able to get myself emancipated. But then again, I don’t even know if they’ll take us away from our “parents” at all, or if the government will think they were justified in their actions.

I don’t know.

Thank you all for reading and keeping my brother and I in your thoughts. I know this isn’t the end you all were hoping for, but it’s the one we have.

u/TotallyNormalMan • 8 hr ago

Well that escalated quickly

u/BruceWaynesBabyMama • 8 hr ago

Oh I’ve been waiting for an update, but this is…

Do NOT blame yourself for your parents’ abusive actions. You are just as much a victim as your brother, and I’m sure you did all you could to help. I’m so glad to hear you both are safe at the moment, keeping you two in my thoughts. 

u/RandomCitizen • 7 hr ago

Hey OP’s sister, quick question: what does “contaminated LIVING beings” mean? 

u/WonderWOWman • 6 hr ago

How do we even know this is actually OP’s sister? Could just be a random account trying to ride the clout wave. I’m not buying it, the whole situation is starting to seem pretty made-up to me. I think we need proof.

u/speedsterSimp • 6 hr ago

@u/WonderWOWman are you serious?

u/SmeelYaL8tr • 6 hr ago

@u/WonderWOWman we live in a world where literal aliens, monsters, and superheroes walk among us…but you find THIS story hard to believe???? OP and his sister don’t owe you a damn thing.

@u/LifeOfATeenageTherapist @ActuallyUndead OP I believe you guys, I hope everything turns out okay. 

u/LexLuthorsToupee

Didn’t OP imply he was electrocuted? Electrocution was downplaying it?!

u/StarsAndPines • 5 hr ago

@u/WonderWOWman this post doesn’t even crack the top ten craziest things I’ve seen/heard of. 

@u/LifeOfATeenageTherapist I know how it feels to think you’re responsible for the well-being of your sibling, but you’re not. You’re just a kid too. It’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself.

u/BehindTheGardenWall • 5 hr ago

Dude what kind of scientists are your parents wtf are they studying 

u/YeahYeYeahYA • 5 hr ago

@u/BehindTheGardenWall no really what do they study? Why is this happening? WHAT is happening? Where are the actual adults? Who rescued OP?  What happened since the last update?? WHERE IS OP??? I have so many questions this is keeping me up at night.

u/SpookyAllTheSeasons

Lil bros are living with Dr Frankenstein 

u/ElevenOnAScaleOfTen • 4 hr ago

@u/LifeOfATeenageTherapist Sweetheart, it sounds like you did the best you could. I’m so sorry this has happened, stay strong. 

u/NinjaSnappingTurlaw • 4 hr ago

Ayo???? @u/LifeOfATeenageTherapist what the fuck???

u/Socloseyetsoveryfar • 4 hr ago

“Im not going to go into it”

Actually I super need you to go into it, thanks!

u/TwiceAsmanySTARS • 3 hr ago

why are we moving past the parents CLAIMING OP DIED??? HELLO??

u/ThursdayAddams • 3 hr ago

@u/TwiceAsmanySTARS Actually they lied about OP being dead

u/VictorFrankMyStein • 3 hr ago

How did we get here? OP was posting about not wanting to do chores and now we’re at missing children? Did I miss a few pages?

u/StepOnMe • 3 hr ago

@u/VictorFrankMyStein yeah I’m a little lost tbh 

u/TwiceAsmanySTARS • 2 hr ago

@u/ThursdayAddams that’s worse. Why is that worse??? 

u/SewerTurtyle • 1 hr ago

I hope we get an update from OP soon…

Chapter Text

Yeah.

This was weird.

Danny laid in the medical bed, staring blankly at the heart monitor. Watching the slow beeps of his heartbeat move across the screen. Slow, green spikes that proved he was still alive. Despite it all. 

He rolled his head to direct his gaze up towards the ceiling. Staring blankly up through the glass and into the cave beyond. 

Even when he’d spent every possible moment fighting ghosts, or studying for his civics test, or trying not to pass out in the middle of one of Lancer’s boring lectures. . . That exhaustion was nothing compared to how he felt now. 

If Jazz were there, he was certain she’d have something to say about it. Some recited nonsense from the DMS-whatever she’d rented from the school’s library that he would just ignore. 

Something about how he should close his eyes and get some rest. 

That seemed to be what everyone expected of him. After all, he’d been told to get some rest by Batman and Superman. Instructed to take it slow and ‘recover’ from his ’traumatic situation’.

Batman and Superman told Danny that he should get some rest. 

He snorted, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he laughed. A soft, hysterical sound. 

This was so weird. 

Superman had brought him to Batman’s hidden lair after rescuing him so that Danny could…get better? Recover? Rest?

. . . There was absolutely no way he was staying put. 

Danny sat up, eyeing the heart monitor and IV stand and feeling a rush of excitement when he spotted the small wheels at the bottom of the medical poles. And the distinct lack of wires attached to an outlet. If he was more medically-minded, he might’ve been impressed at the seemingly battery powered heart monitor. As it was, there was only one thing on his mind: Mobility. 

Excellent.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, reaching to pull the two poles towards himself. Danny was careful not to dislodge the IV or monitor attached to him as he stood up. 

They had changed his clothes. 

He squinted down at himself, at the soft white sweatpants he was wearing, and shrugged. At least he wasn’t in a hospital gown with his bare ass hanging out the back. 

Danny might’ve actually died from embarrassment if the Superman and Batman had held a conversation with him while he was in nothing but a thin hospital gown and his undies.

Pulling the poles closer, Danny quickly looked towards the curtain that separated the medical room from the rest of the. . .

Where was he? Batman’s lair? His cave? The Batman cave? The. . . Bat. . . Cave?

There was no movement. Nothing to indicate that there was anyone beyond the curtain, or anyone who was coming to check on Danny. Which meant there would be no one to see Danny vanish.

He grinned. 

                 ___________________

No one would ever be able to fully convince Jason that Alfred wasn’t secretly a Meta. 

A Meta with abilities related to his family. Because there was no other explanation for how the man had managed to guilt him into coming to the Cave within an hour of him getting injured. Really, it had only been 45 minutes since he’d uploaded his report. And that hadn’t even mentioned that he’d been stabbed in the side twice and fallen off a rooftop. 

Jason doubted that Alfred had even read the report, the old butler had probably sensed a disturbance in the chill Gotham air. Then promptly contacted Jason to guilt him into coming to the Cave for treatment.

Alfred couldn’t fool him, he knew the game the old man was playing by saying things like; “I know you care little for my opinion” and “If you would be so kind to ease the worries of an old butler, Master Jason”.

Manipulation. Pure and simple manipulation.

It was working. 

Jason grit his teeth as he wheeled into the cave on his motorcycle. The thrum of the engine was cut short as he turned it off and peeled himself off the seat. He grimaced, the expression hidden beneath his helmet, as the movement caused sharp pain to radiate out from his left side.

Something Alfred would want to see and treat, much to Jason’s begrudging assent. 

He was an adult, damnit. He could treat his own stab wounds and concussion, thank-you-very-much.

And it wasn’t as if he would have the wounds for very long, anyways. Already he could feel his skin crawl to stitch itself together, and his concussion had faded to be little more than a mild headache. 

Jason pulled the helmet off, letting it dangle from the fingers of his right hand as rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left. He passed by Tim, leaning far too close to the screens of the BatComputer, as he headed to the Cave’s med bay. Ignoring the double take the younger man sent his way.

Maybe if he was quick enough he could patch himself up. Alfred wouldn’t be exactly pleased if Jason wasn’t medically treated by someone. Either by Alfred himself or by (God forbid) Tim or even (God definitely forbid) Bruce, was probably the outcome the elderly man was hoping for. But, he also wouldn’t give Jason more grievances if Jason were to, say, steal some medical supplies from medbay and treat himself at home. 

At least then Jason could claim to have the proper supplies, and Alfred could do very little to counter that claim. After all, they were Bruce’s supplies.

B always had the best stuff.

Jason hummed to himself. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d be in and out in just a mi-

He winced as something ran into him, clipping his side as if someone had tried to move around him but ended up bumping into him instead. A soft ‘oof’ came from his left. The noise of someone disgruntled that they had ran into something.

The problem with that being there was nothing and no one before Jason besides empty space. He narrowed his eyes. At least, there was no one visible.

Jason quickly dropped down into a crouch, sweeping his leg across the seemingly empty space. He ignored the feeling of pain across his torso in favor of focusing on the sensation of his leg hitting what felt like metal poles and a set of legs. 

Something metal and heavy crashed to the ground. Accompanied by a yelp of pain and surprise. 

A teenaged boy suddenly appeared on the ground. Rubbing at his arm and squinting up at Jason, a scowl on his face. Beside him lay an IV pole and a heart monitor. 

That would explain the sound.

. . .

And explain literally nothing else. 

Jason blinked down at the boy. The boy blinked up at Jason, face twisting in confusion and disgust.

“What in Ancients’ name. . .” He muttered.

Honestly, the gall of teenagers these days. If anyone should be confused and disgruntled it was Jason. Why was there an invisible teenager wandering the Cave? Where did he come from? Had Duke not been a fluke after all and Bruce had really decided to start adopting metas?

Well this one certainly looked the part of one of B’s adopted kids.

Jason sighed. A man just can’t steal medical supplies from his dad without stumbling across more issues.

He tilted his head to the side, and offered the kid a hand. If he was a new brother, shouldn’t Jason try and get off on the right foot? That hadn’t happened yet, and maybe it would be nice for a change of pace.

“. . . Sorry about that.” 

The boy looked at Jason’s gloved hand, and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Eugh! What is on you, dude? You just walk around like this?” He exclaimed.

Scratch that. Jason would choose violence.

”What.” He said flatly, curling his offered hand into a fist.

“That can not be good for you.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Children spoke nonsense all the time. Maybe the boy was just talking about the blood soaked into the side of Jason’s suit and jacket. It would be a bit strange for the kid to have noticed, given that the dark material it was made from tended to hide blood stains fairly well. But the kid could turn invisible, so who's to say he couldn’t spot dubious stains better than the average person?

“What are you talking about?”

The boy heaved himself to his feet. Trying to pull the medical supplies up with him, and giving up when the heart monitor made a concerning crackling sound. 

He huffed, brushing dark hair out of his face. The boy squinted his pale blue eyes at Jason, frowning all the while.

“Like-,” He gestured to Jason’s entire body, “All of that.”

Soft footsteps came from behind him as someone approached.

“Hey now, Hood’s not that ugly.” Tim said.

. . . Yeah, he was going to choose violence.

Chapter Text

Danny hadn’t really expected to run into his variety of cryptid within Batman’s lair. The hero had clearly been of the living kind, probably, and Danny had kind of expected the same to be true of his various side-kicks. He was vaguely aware of there having been several Robins, the younger man standing further away being one of them. So, it kind of seemed likely that if Batman was a cryptid, his sidekicks might be more of the same. 

What’s that phrase? Birds of a feather stick together?

He was going to have to reconsider his list of possible cryptid beings. Because the man standing before him wasn’t exactly dead enough to be a Halfa, but man. . . He was something.

And his Ecto was all messed up. 

Like. Really messed up.

The spectral substance was barely visible, even to Danny’s gaze. Yet the sensation. . . Like something oily and rotting. It was making his eyes water from the burning wrongness of it all. 

Something was very clearly wrong with the man, and if Batman couldn’t fix his own sidekick’s Ecto, what business did he have helping Danny? 

“That doesn’t bother you?” He asked, rubbing at his nose.

Oh Ancients, his Ecto didn’t even smell right! 

“Hmmm . . .” Robin said, leaning in close to the other man (Hood?). Examining him in theatrical interest.

Hood stared down at the shorter man with an expression of pure distaste.

“Well, he wears that helmet most of the time. So his face really doesn’t bother me all that much.” Robin said, shrugging and grinning at Danny. 

“Thanks.” Hood said flatly.”

“That’s . . . Not what I meant.” Danny said slowly.

Really, Hood wasn’t an unattractive guy. He wasn’t sure why Robin was jabbing at the man so much. 

Maybe his gross Ecto made everyone a bit uneasy. 

”I meant his ectoplasm?” 

“My what?”

“His what?”

They spoke over each other, staring at Danny with odd expressions on their faces. The blank white of their eyes made him feel uneasy.

“His. . . Ectoplasm?”  Danny said, nervously scratching at his hairline behind his right ear. 

No reaction.

“The stuff that, like, ghosts are made of?”

Robin looked between Danny and Hood, mouth twisted to the side in thought. 

”Kinda goopy stuff?” He offered. 

Still, Hood and Robin stared down at Danny as if he was speaking some alien language. 

“Bright green liquid?” 

That got a reaction. Hood reeled back as if Danny had struck him, with Robin going very, very still.

“What?” Hood growled out.

Danny sighed. “You know, the green stuff. That the dead or partly-dead are made up of.” 

Really, undead cryptids should know this.

Robin looked sharply at Hood, “You don’t think-“

“Are you talking about Lazarus Water?” Hood said, stepping closer to Danny.

This close up, the man towered over him. Danny had to tilt his head slightly to look into the man’s scowling face. There was a jagged scar on his cheek, twisting with the force of his frown.

It kind of looked like a ‘J’. 

“Sure, if you want to call it that.” Danny shrugged. “Kind of a weird nickname for ectoplasm, though.”

They both went quiet, staring down at Danny. Robin looked between Danny and Hood, as if anticipating some kind of disaster. He suddenly stepped forward, blocking Hood from Danny’s point of view, and clasped his hands on Danny’s shoulders.

“Okay! Let’s get you back to bed.” He said, physically turning Danny around and pushing him slightly forward. 

He stumbled a bit, grabbing at the IV pole. Robin’s hands firm against his shoulders.

“Wait-“

“I’m pretty sure the big guys expect you to be resting.” He said, pushing more.

Danny looked over his shoulder at Hood, who stood in the same position. Someone should really do something about his Ecto. 

“Wait-“

He wasn’t Frostbite, or one of the Yetis from the far frozen, but maybe Danny could. . .

“Come on. Back to medbay.” Robin insisted, pushing Danny further away from Hood.

“Hey, wait- Stop pushing me- Wait! Hey! Do you want me to fix that for you?” 

Chapter Text

Jon’s Dad was acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. 

His dad was always a bit strange, probably something that could be attributed to being a whole alien. For as much as Clark Kent was raised as a human, he had certain. . . Mannerisms that set him apart as being a bit odd. Gestures and unconscious actions that Jon had only recently noticed because he was starting to see those same actions in himself. Or rather, Damian had noticed the same behavioral and instinctive patterns and had pointed them out. 

Can’t stop yourself from becoming your parents, or whatever that saying was. 

But even his Mom was being odd, and Lois Lane-Kent was a hundred percent non-meta human.

Supposedly.

Jon folded his arms against the table, and laid his head down. Watching his Dad frown at the laptop and aggressively type away. Occasionally hearing his mother type out a response on her own computer upstairs. 

Something was up, and whatever was going on his parents clearly didn’t want him overhearing a thing. Jon wasn’t completely oblivious, though. Whatever was going on had been on his Dad’s mind for over a week, and likely had to do with his “business trip” he’d taken with Flash and Green Lantern. He’d come home late the night before, and when Jon had seen him in the morning there was a far-away contemplative look on his face.

Jon wanted to know what was going on. 

His Dad looked up at him, giving Jon a tight lipped smile. 

“Did you finish your rough draft? I can take a look if you want?” He offered. 

Right. The draft. The rough draft for Jon’s English class. The English paper rough draft. That rough draft?

He hadn’t even started it.

Jon eyed his own laptop, pushed off to the side. At the mocking blinking cursor. How was he supposed to focus on writing an essay on how the authoritarian themes of 1982 compare to the politics of modern day, when his Dad was hiding something that was definitely a million times more interesting? 

“. . . I’m having some writer’s block.” Jon admitted. 

Dad nodded in understanding, “Well, there’s still some time before it’s due, right? If you want some help with outlining l can-“

“Where did you go? Earlier this week, I mean.”

And there it was. 

His Dad blinked, and slowly closed his laptop. 

“Jon-“

“Something’s up. You and Mom have been so weird this week.”

“Jon-“

“Is the world ending again?” Jon asked.

“What?” His Dad said, laughing lightly. 

He shook his head, eyes closed in amusement. “No, kiddo. The world is not ending. Not right now, at least.”

Jon narrowed his eyes. ”But it’s serious.”

“It is serious. And it’s nothing for you to worry about.” His Dad said, standing up from the table and sweeping his laptop up under his arm.

He carded his fingers through Jon’s hair as he passed blue eyes sad and heavy.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” He repeated, “I would let you know if it was.”

Dad turned and left the dining room. Jon could hear his footsteps all the way up and into his parent’s bedroom. Hear his Mom softly greet his Dad, and heard the bedroom door click shut. Shutting off all noise. 

Stupid reinforced walls. Stupid lead-lined doors.

He pulled his laptop close, and pulled up a familiar screen. Quickly typing in his Dad’s password: Kon&joN0608. Instantly, his Dad’s Google account opened. If he didn’t want to be caught, Jon would have to be fast.

He was good at that. Good at hiding his tracks on easy stuff like this. It would be harder to hide if (when) he had to get into his Dad’s JL files, but he could still do it. Praying the whole time that none of the Bats would notice. Or that if they did, it would be Tim or Damian.

Tim would just tell Kon, and Kon would just find it funny and wouldn’t care. 

Damian was the one who showed him how to hack into the JL’s files in the first place. 

Honestly, if his Dad didn’t want him to be sneaky, he shouldn’t have encouraged his friendship with Damian.

Chapter Text

For once, Damian’s Father wasn't being suspicious. Which, in itself, was suspicious. 

A guest. Not a guest in the manor, a guest in the cave. 

A civilian guest was in medbay in the cave. And had been brought there, by Superman. 

What game was Father playing at, giving away information so freely? It wasn’t like him to be so transparent. 

Yes, there were a lot of details that he had omitted. Where the boy had come from, what had happened, if there anything special about the civilian, why he was here. But the fact that Father had told him anything upfront at all was strange. 

He was going to find out what was going on. 

Damian straightened his mask as he rounded the corner to the cave’s med-bay, pausing when he heard voices. He tilted his head, recognizing Jason and Tim, but he did not recognize the third, younger voice.

Their…guest. 

He padded closer to the white curtains on silent feet. The conversation became more coherent as he approached.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The unknown guest.

“I said I was.” Jason, this time.

“I just want to make sure! Because I think this will work, but I’m not totally sure. So I don’t-“

“It’s not going to hurt him, is it?” Tim asked.

“No! I mean, it shouldn’t?” The voice sounded unsure. 

“…Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Tim said.

“My call. I say we do it.” Jason said, voice touched with belligerence.

There was a pause. Damian frowned and quickly stepped towards the white curtain partitioning off the med bay. 

“…Okay. Hold still.”

“Wait-!”

“I said hold still!”

Damian ripped back the curtain and three heads snapped to look at him. 

He blinked, taking in the scene before him. 

Tim had his arm wrapped around the waist of a boy who looked about Damian’s age. Seemingly trying, and failing, to pull him away from Jason who was sitting on the edge of the medic bed.

With the boy’s arms halfway through his chest.

“…What-“

The boy quickly removed his arms from Jason’s chest. Damian could see that the boy seemed to have the ability to turn his arms intangible, which explained how he was able to plunge them into Jason’s chest without killing him a second time. 

Jason made a face and rubbed at the area, turning his attention to the boy- their guest. 

He backpedaled away from Jason, Tim stumbling behind him at the sudden release of tension. The boy held his hands up in surrender. Eyes wide as he was caught in….whatever they had going on.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

_________________________________________

“Your arms were inside him!”

“Well, yeah. That’s where the bad ecto is.”

“Inside! Him!” Tim yelled, gesturing wildly between Danny and Jason.

Jason shrugged one shoulder, “Didn’t even hurt.”

Danny gave a pointed look as if to say ‘see? No harm done.’ Blue eyes flitting between Tim and Damian nervously. 

Damian rubbed his thumb in circles against his temple, feeling a headache starting to build. He didn’t know where to begin to unravel the situation presented to him. 

Daniel Fenton, Danny, was the boy that Superman had brought to the cave. Both for his safety, and for his recovery. His meta abilities seemed to mimic ghost powers, and he was convinced that this would allow him to…

Well, Damian wasn’t really sure what he was trying to do but the other boy claimed that it was for Todd’s benefit. 

And Damian had interrupted by startling Danny away from Jason before he could finish… whatever it was that he was doing.

Tim sighed, covering his eyes with his hand and tilting his head back. His other hand rested on his hip, painting a picture of pure exasperation. 

Damian folded his arms across his chest, shifting his attention from Tim to the other two. Danny and Jason, sitting side by side on the medic bay bed. He watched Danny shift where he sat, blue eyes darting away from Damian’s face. 

“So…Can I finish helping out, or…?” Danny said hesitantly, glancing sideways at Jason. 

“What are you trying to do, exactly?” Damian asked, arching an eyebrow.

Danny blinked, “His ecto is really gross. So I was going to try and fix it.”

“…How?” 

Damian didn’t know what ‘ecto’ was supposed to be referring to, but it was a certainty that there were many, many things wrong with Jason. If the newcomer wanted to try something to ‘fix’ it, then he wasn’t going to try and stop it. 

That didn’t mean he was just going to stay in the dark though.

Danny hummed, scratching at the back of his head. “It’s kinda like…a splinter?”

“A splinter.” Tim repeated, staring the boy down with a deadpan expression.

“Yeah! You know how if you have a splinter, and you don’t take it out, it gets all irritated and starts oozing gunk everywhere?” Danny said, eyes lighting up as he ran with his explanation.

“…yes?” Tim said, sharing an uncertain glance with Damian.

Danny pointed at Jason, “I’m going to remove his splinter.”

…Huh

“…Maybe we should wait until Batman returns.” Tim started.

“Hey! Is it or is it not my ghost splinter?” Jason asked, gesturing to himself.

Tim scowled, clearly annoyed that Jason had adopted the ridiculous metaphor so quickly.

“…It is.” Tim said begrudgingly.

“I say the kid removes it.”

“I still don’t think-“

“My splinter, my rules.” Jason snarked, nodding his assent to Danny.

The boy hesitated for a moment, then stood from the bed and turned to face Jason again. 

“Wait,” Damian said, stepping forward slightly.

“…This isn’t going to kill him, is it?” He asked, eying the boy warily.

Danny’s eyes widened, “No! No, he should be okay!”

“Awe, Robin…you do care.”

“Tt. Hardly, I don’t want to deal with the emotional fallout of Father having to deal with your death a second time.” 

Jason rolled his eyes with a scoff leaning back on the med bed. He focused his attention back on the boy. They all did, gaze drawn towards Daniel Fenton as the Bats analyzed his every move. 

Danny’s gaze flitted between the three, frowning slightly. He seemed to shrink into himself as if weighed down by sudden doubts. 

“Well, let’s get to it then.” Jason said, rolling his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.

The boy shifted on his feet, then straightened up. Steeling himself as a look of determination settled across his face. 

“Okay…here it goes.” Danny said, plunging his hands back into Jason’s chest. 

Chapter Text

r/LegalAdvice: Has anyone heard of the Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act? 

Let me start this off by saying that I AM NOT JOKING. This is a SERIOUS POST. 

I'm not even sure if this is the right place to post this. I don’t even know what this is really. I (22F) am an intern in a senator’s office. For the sake of anonymity (and job security) I’m not going to say the state or senator I work for. 

Mostly, my job is basic intern stuff. Get coffee, take notes, transcribe stuff. Sometimes this means that I transcribe the rough drafts of bills my senator is interested in or might introduce to the Senate.

And yesterday something odd? Came across my desk??? It was a rough draft for a legislative bill, and had lots and lots of notes from other members of congress from other states, and a whole bunch of legal jargon scratched onto it. I was asked to type it up in a neat way for my senators to review.

It was just…strange. There’s no other way to really put it.

It was titled “The Federal Anti-Ecto Control Act” and it seemed to draw a lot of inspiration from the failed Meta Regulation and Surveillance Acts (MRSA). Only instead of targeting Metas, it was targeting…ghosts???

Here’s some of the phrasing on both the bill draft and the notes; “Ectoplasm-contaminated entities pose a threat to National Security and should be dealt with either by a federally-funded division or by federally-contracted individuals.” “The act of dying should serve as the dividing factor on whether an entity should be permitted to exist. The Living should live, the Dead should not” (Living and Dead are capitalized like proper nouns, which I found strange.) “Ectoplasm-reliant entities are not considered sentient beings by the United States Government. This includes, but is not limited to: ghouls, specters, phantoms, phantasms, poltergeists, revenants, apparitions, doppelgängers and ghosts.” 

And the entire thing is like this. It’s all about ghosts? And is arguing that not only do ghosts not deserve rights, but they should be exterminated. 

I thought it was a joke at first! Because this is crazy! A whole piece of legislation drafted about ghosts? I thought my boss was pranking me. But there were so many notes and additions from other legislators, their signatures were included. And it even had files of evidence to prove the point, there’s a part that says: ”The works of Drs. Fenton and the inventions of FentonWorks provides sufficient evidence to the lack of personhood for ecto-dependent entities.”

I don’t even know who they are! But when I Googled them, I found websites where they were featured and they were called ECTO-Biologists. 

I think this is real?? And the United States government is not just acknowledging the existence of ghosts, but saying that ghosts pose a huge threat and they must be exterminated??

Does anyone know about this? Has anyone else even heard about this??? Something just doesn’t feel right to me…but I don’t know what to do.

Advice??

Chapter Text

Danny really hoped this would work.

Like, really hoped.

Because if it didn’t he was pretty sure that the smaller Robin was going to kill him. Well, kill him more. 

It’s fine. Everything was fine. It was just like when Cujo got an ice splinter stuck in his paw after playing in the Far Frozen and Danny had to remove it. Just like that.

Except with a person. And the splinter was closer to the core. And the guy definitely wasn't a halfa but he was also not fully alive and Danny had no idea what was going to happen once it was removed-

Danny took a deep breath to stop his running thoughts. He just needed to go for it. 

Things would be fine.

Probably.

He pushed his hands through Hood’s chest, intangible limbs reaching towards the older man’s cracked, unfinished core. Hood’s shoulders tensed as Danny’s fingers brushed against the edges of his core. Muscles tensing as he stopped himself from flinching away from Danny. 

Danny winced in sympathy, muttering an apology as he kept reaching for the bit of contaminated ectoplasm.

Robin shifted slightly in the corner of his vision. Clearly distrustful of what Danny was doing. 

Which was fair, he supposed. Here he was, a stranger rummaging through the chest of Robin’s ally to remove something that they couldn’t see or detect. Distrust was fine.

They didn’t need to see what Danny was doing, Danny didn’t need to see what he was doing. What mattered was that he could feel what he was doing, could feel the shape of Hood’s core and the ooze that seemed to cling to it like a parasite. 

He narrowed his eyes, focusing on his self-appointed responsibility. 

Hood’s core was weird. He could feel that something was off, it felt much smaller than it should’ve been for a being Hood’s size and apparent age. Painful and cracked open by a bit of corroded foreign ectoplasm. It seemed. . . stunted, if Danny was to put a word to it. And felt wrong.

Danny knew his own core was the core of a juvenile; smaller than a full adult ghost and still growing. The size of Hood’s core reminded Danny of that, but it felt much older and he knew without asking that whatever had left Red Hood this way had happened a long time ago. Not only that, where Danny’s core was still growing, Hood’s felt confined. Like he couldn’t grow, or was prevented from doing so by the filth that was jammed into him. 

It was a strange sensation, the emotions and trauma leaking from the core gave Danny the strangest impression. As if Hood’s guardians had smashed together bits of shattered core and wrapped it up in rotting ectoplasm. Frankenstein’s soul. 

Danny hoped that removing the bad ecto wouldn’t cause Hood to completely destabilize…

Hood gritted his teeth and hissed as Danny tugged lightly at the rotten ecto.

The two heroes at his side stiffened.

Okay. Danny would have to act fast. Rip it out quick, like ripping off a stuck-on bandaid. Quick. Fast.

He sunk his fingers into what felt like hot, burning trash and ripped.

Hood cried out, scrambling back slightly as if in pain. The larger Robin shoving Danny back as he scrambled to check over Hood while the smaller one grabbed at Danny’s shoulder. Digging his fingers painfully into his flesh as he dragged him back. 

Danny stumbled, turning his head to look at the smaller Robin. 

This close he could see that the boy was probably around his age, but slightly taller. 

He also looked like he was going to make Danny’s first death look like a walk in the park. 

“Are you alright? Any difficulty breathing? How many fingers am I holding up?” 

Danny and the smaller Robin turned their attention to the medical bed, where the larger Robin was resting his hands on Hood’s shoulders. Drilling him with a series of questions seemingly diagnostic in nature.

Hood swatted his hands away, rubbing the center of his chest.

“I’m fine. I just-“ He frowned, pressing his hand hard against his sternum.

He looked down, “I feel. . . Better?”

Danny sighed, feeling relief spread in his chest as the smaller Robin eased the grip he had on his shoulder. That was good. If Hood was feeling better that meant that Danny had messed up horribly. 

He nodded, humming thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, you should feel better without this junk in you.” Danny said, holding up his hand.

Three disbelieving faces focused on the lump of bubbling, yellow-green ooze pulsating on Danny’s palm. 

“What the fu-“