Aaron RoMave

Part 2

So they both leave for the mountains. Clark has always wanted to go hiking, but life happened, and having so many kids and a husband who had chronic pain in his back never seemed to align with this place. Being with Lois was like the epilogue of a movie; the first few days were amazing. They were never apart, and she was everything he ever dreamed of. They'd go on hikes together. Clark began to learn that hiking was not as fun as just thinking about it; he'll make it work. Lois was the perfect partner, always having good conversational topics that balanced the loss of not being able to talk about their children in front of her. She didn't really want children when they were together, but the loss of not actually having them seemed to hurt her, and it hurt even more when she was reminded that he and Bruce actually had a lot of them. 

Mornings were bright. They were also early; he always considered himself a morning person, and he discovered he was just a Bruce kind of morning person. Their morning started at 9. Clark liked to get up a bit earlier to make them both a cup of coffee since B used to wake up grumpy. So now he wakes up at 6 to “enjoy the morning”, when they were together and young, that was their thing, now he needs to get used to it. And also, he needs to stop making two cups of coffee; Lois doesn't like it.  

Sometimes he misses his kids. It feels forbidden to talk about them, so anytime that she's elsewhere he goes to The archive. Lois taught him about this place, which is a place in the afterlife where one can visit their memories. It's like a museum where you can re-watch key moments in their lives. 

It started as something he did sometimes. Those nights were when he wondered what would happen when their kids reached the afterlife and what their reactions would be when they found out he left Bruce. That was when he made the decision; he was selfish and didn't think about his family. Sometimes he liked to think that maybe one of his kids would go with him, but then that idea slipped his mind; there was no way. 

So it became an everyday thing. Whether Lois was asleep, with friends, or simply not around. He'd go to the archives. The archive employee seemed to recognize him every time and gave him the same piece of advice. To leave and not live in the past. But he couldn't. Not when he could watch Damian’s first steps, Tim’s first day at work, Jason’s colleague graduation, Cass first professional performance, Dick’s wedding, the day he met Bruce, the day he got married to Bruce, their first date, bickering in the dinner, on the park, on Dicks wedding, getting kicked out of their favorite restaurant because he laughed so hard he fell. He remembered vividly the last day Bruce was alive, and they were bickering in the car, and they were talking about the vacations they were planning. He replied that whether they'd go, Bruce would be complaining because he loves to complain, and he responded that “That’s not a thing people love”. But watching it in the archives, he just realized what he lost. 

And he tried. God. He really tried. When that shitty kid was laughing at him about being out of air, he just smiled like Lois and didn't respond. He got up early in the morning and did not complain (much). When new people arrived in eternity, he went and was nice (enough). The last time he had to socialize like this was when Dick was on the gymnastics team, and moms were all crazy about their kids. But god he missed the life he had; he missed his kids and husband. Sometimes he blamed it on stupid Bruce; he was the one who told him to go with Lois, but deep down, he knew he wanted to go with her. So the stupid one was really him. 

“Hey, a new couple just arrived. I already arranged a double date for us at noon.” Lois' voice broke his thoughts. 

“If I meet any more new people, I’m going to explode,” Clark responded

“And then what would you complain about?” She snapped back

“What?”

“Come on, Clark, you love to complain.” The tiredness and frustration in her voice did not go unnoticed. 

“That’s not a thing people love,” Clark responded, his focus was no longer in the conversation. 

“You okay?”

“I made a mistake.”

“Did you lose your skis again?”

Feeling finally brave enough to respond, “No. I, uh… I made a mistake coming h-here with you.” 

“Okay. What’d I do wrong now?” Lois seemed even more frustrated. 

“Nothing. Oh, nothing. No, you’re perfect. I know you say you’re not b-but you are. You’re kind and brave and smart. That’s how I know.”

“I waited all these years for this. This.” She answers, showing the big house in the woods. “Why can’t you just enjoy it? We’re in a literal paradise.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I think I just… I think I just got really caught up in everything.”

“Clark, what the…”

“And maybe it would’ve worked between us in life. You know? Maybe not.” Tears are starting to show up in his face. “But I-I can’t pretend that my world didn’t continue without you.”

“I am not asking you to. I have never asked it of you.” She responds with now visible anger. “Unlike you, I don’t hide things.” She continued.

“Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” Clark answered confused. 

“I grit my teeth every single day so you can go to that damn tunnel.” A pause. “Clark, we were happiest together.” She tried. 

“Yeah. Of course we were.” Clark responded. “It was young love. It was… It was love without the burden of a mortgage or a job or kids. 

It was, you know, the kind of love you feel before knowing loss. It was everything, but…

Love isn’t just one happy moment. Right? It’s a million.

And it’s bickering in the car, and supporting someone when they need it, and it’s growing together, and looking after each other.”

“We can grow together now. We can look after each other now.” Lois answered, almost pleading.

“I mean, Lois. Honestly? Am I living up to the memory? You waited so long in that… that artificial place, but here, this is real. And… And you’re living and… I’m giving you permission. Go live without me.”

“Oh, you’re giving me permission? Are you… Are you giving me permission?” Lois responded, offended at his comment. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. That was a little condescending.” Clark reacted.

“Thank you so much, my Highness. I’m your humble servant.”

“Okay…” The situation became awkward.

“Thank you so much for the permission.” She said, mad. She had every right to be mad.

“I’m sorry.” He tried.

“This is not fair. It’s not fair.”

The Flashes are completely aware about Dan, ever since Danny joined Young Justice. But clearly something happened, since Dan will never happened - thanks to Danny, and none of the Flashes know.

Danny however, knows about the Flashes thanks to Clockwork and of course - decides to screw with them, because the Flashes don't know that HE knows about his Evil Future Self. Because he's currently reformed, at home, vibing with Vlad.

So, Danny decides to fuck with them the best way possible.

^0^

"Hey, Wally - c'mere for a sec! So I've been practicing this new move I created, and since I know your fast enough to dodge them - why not test it on you?"

Wally agrees, and is led to the Training room. There is a pause, before Danny pulls out his best Dan voice and goes, "Ready?"

Wally instantly has Flashbacks before instinctually dodging Danny's attack, only for Danny to stop, disappear - and then reappear next to Wally.

Jon: Oh, that's my temporary tattoo. A kid at school custom makes whatever you want into one. I asked him to design a Superman one, and let him come up with the design. Pretty cool right?

Clark:....Jon. Do you recognize what's around the El symbol?

Jon: I thought it was just cool designs.

Clark: No, it's Kryptonian. He spelled out "The Undaunted Heros"

Jon: oh cool.

Clark: Jon, your friend knows Kryptonian.

Jon: OH!

Clark: What's this kid's name?

Jon: Danny Fenton.

Clark: The Superman fan that chased me across the rooftops?

Jon: Yeah.

Clark: Hmmm maybe his screaming of "Sir, I think we might be from the same place! Please help me" makes sense now.

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

Bruce: I do.

John: Great. How do you keep them alive? Mine keeps trying to pick fights he can barely win.

Bruce: You're a father?

John: Just adopted a homeless half-ghost boy named Danny. He's a bit of a menace, but I love him as my own. Want to see a photo?

Bruce: Sure.

John: There's my boy, and here he is in his ghost form. He calls himself Phantom when he's glowing like this, a little on the nose, but he's only fourteen.

Bruce:.....Can I buy you a drink?

John: I would usually say yes, but Danny's astronomy club is almost over and he needs me to pick him up

Bruce: How about you both come over for dinner then? My kids would love to have a new challenger for their video game night. My butler is also making Yorkshire pudding-

John: We will be there, Handsome, if only for a fellow Brit's cooking and pick your brain for parenting tips.

In all the time Bruce knows James Gorgon, the man had asked him for a favor exactly three times.

The first one was back when he wasn't even Batman yet, and Jim wasn't a Commissioner. He asked Bruce to stay out of trouble and promised to find the man who killed his parents in return.

The second time was years later, when Jim found out who was under the Batgirl's mask and asked Bruce to keep his daughter safe.

Both of those things Bruce hadn't done. With Barbara, he tried and failed; with trouble, he hadn't even considered keeping his word.

Now, he is standing on the roof of GCPD building, the light of the BatSignal outlining Jim's tired figure, smoke slowly rising up from the man's cigarette. He wonders if this time, he'd be able to give Gordon whatever he called him here for without the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth.

"You're aware of the Realms' delegates arriving this week," Jim starts. It's not even a question: the whole wide world is aware of peace talks between the UN and the afterlife dimension. Bruce nods anyway.

"Can't imagine why they've chosen Gotham out of all places," Jim takes the last drag and flicks the cigarette down — Bruce knows he'll pick it up later, it's only a gesture of frustration. He also knows why the Infinite Realms decided on this city: the crime rate here is the highest in the country, if not the world, which means there's a lot of ambient ectoplasm, afterlife energy, here. For the denizens of the Underworld, it must be comfortable.

He waits, watching Jim collect his thoughts.

"Listen, I know this will not be the most appropriate thing to ask from you and your team, but would you mind running security for them?" Gordon is not looking him in the eye, saying it all in one breath, and Bruce feels his eyebrows shoot up without his control. Good thing his cowl hides it.

"Publically," Jim puts the last nail in the coffin of Bruce's dignity.

The reasonable — the only — answer he can realistically give is 'no'. He can't. They are not glorified heroes or public personas, they are not even considered real by a third of this city's population, not to mention the world at large.

But Jim Gordon never asks him for favors, and the peace talks are important enough to break some rules. Like the concept of 'diplomatic relationship with the afterlife' is already breaking a few rules, anyway.

Bruce tilts his head forward just slightly.

"I'll discuss it with the others," he says. It's not a 'yes' because he actually does need to discuss it with his kids, although he doubts they'd refuse.