Chapter Text
As with many things in Lois Lane’s life, it starts with an anonymous tip.
It’s a Tuesday (because why wouldn’t it be, Troublesome Tuesdays are only outpaced by Weird Shit Wednesdays, as if the crazies like to take weekends off to plan) when a call comes into the Daily Planet’s hotline. She’s handed the slip after lunch. (Later, she’ll wonder why she got the call and not Clark. It’s one of the many things she never really gets an answer for.)
Message: For: Lois Lane
Caller: unknown
Location: Amity Park, Illinois
Phone number: (xxx) 742-6866
Regarding: caller was unspecific, merely stating that they “really needed Cousin Lois”.
Cousin L-
Shit.
“Clark?” Lois calls, running into the newsroom. Jimmy glances up from his desk, then jerks his head in the direction of the break room. Lois gives him a nod of thanks and heads that way just as Clark appears in the hall.
“Lois? What’s wrong?”
She shoves the note under his nose. “We need to get to Illinois. Now.”
Clark takes the slip of paper and reads it. The shift is subtle when he realizes, but Lois has known this man for twenty years now. “Right. Jimmy?”
“Family emergency. I gotcha covered, Clark.”
“Thanks. Let’s go.”
It takes them all of half an hour to get from Metropolis to Amity Park; Superman could’ve done it faster solo, but Lois is squishy and flying at Mach Whatever without a plane isn’t exactly doable, especially if they want to look anything close to presentable.
So, half an hour. Which still had her hair a mess, but whatever.
The monstrosity that is Lois’s cousin’s home sticks out like a sore thumb, but at least it makes for good navigation. They land on the front stoop. Clark sets her down, gently, just as someone comes through the door.
It’s still closed.
What.
A teenaged boy- dark hair, blue eyes, oh dear gods that’s Danny- stops just short of Clark. His clothing’s torn and smouldering, there’s blood (and why are there neon green swirls in it??), and he looks up just long enough to whisper “help” before collapsing.
“What the hell is going on in there?” Lois asks as Clark catches Danny, then carefully scoops him into a bridal carry.
Clark’s gaze hardens. He shifts Danny just enough to be able to pull out his League communicator, then hits a button.
“Watchtower. What is it, Superman?” Martian Manhunter’s voice is calm, as always.
“Code Phantom 3,” Clark says grimly. Lois’ eyebrows climb nearly to her hairline. “I’m bringing him in. Prep the medbay; level two injuries.”
“Noted. We’ll be ready.”
“Thanks.” Clark shuts off the comm. “Lois-”
“Go. I’ll contact Jazz.”
“Good. I’ll come back for you as soon as he’s settled.”
“You do that.”
Around thirty seconds later, two teens, both Danny's age, tear around the corner and stop at the bottom of the steps. One doubles over, gasping for breath; the other shakes her head at him and turns to Lois. “Oh, good, you got the message.”
Lois raises an eyebrow. “You sent that?”
She nods. “Contingency plan gamma. Danny sent an alert an hour ago.”
“I see.” Lois very much did not see, but didn't get the chance to follow up as the door burst open and a teal-clad woman jumped through brandishing some sort of ray gun.
“Where's Phantom?” she snarled. “Where's the monster that killed Danny?”
What.
“Madeline Fenton,” Lois says, her voice hard as steel, “what did you do?”
It wasn't supposed to go this way
Danny wakes up, one sense at a time. Thin sheets and a hard mattress; the smell of antiseptic and recycled air. Monitors beep softly, his heartbeat abnormally slow. Something metallic yet tangy sits on his tongue - blood and ectoplasm from a blow that split the inside of his cheek on his teeth. Finally, sight, as he blinks his eyes open to see a vaguely familiar form sitting next to him, black hair and worried blue eyes almost causing a panic attack before he clocks the red and blue outfit. Not orange. Not Dad.
“Supes?” he slurs.
“Hey, Phantom. How are you feeling?”
“Half dead.” The joke is weak, even for him, but he tries for a grin anyway before hissing at the sting. “Where’m’I?”
“The Watchtower.” Clark leans to brush a stray lock from Danny's face. “Don't worry, you're safe here.”
Danny blinks. He must have been hurt if Superman brought him all the way up here. “M' parents?”
“No longer a threat,” Clark responds, jaw tightening. “Rest. We'll talk when you're feeling a little better.”
“Kay.” Danny leans into the touch, and between one blink and another, he's asleep.
Lois stares at the business card currently resting in her hand. Clark had handed it to her an hour ago, jaw clenched in that way that told her someone was in for a very bad day (not that it took much to figure out who that was). The name and number gleamed in gold leaf, almost mocking.
Bruce Wayne
(xxx) 228-6260
“Fuck it,” she mutters, and dials.
The call is picked up on the second ring. “Ms. Lane,” Bruce says on the other end, his voice deep and easygoing, “so good of you to call.”
“About that. Why am I calling? Clark just handed me your card and didn’t say anything.”
Bruce chuckles. “Ah. Yes. It has come to my attention that you’ve had a rather eventful day. I have some experience with traumatized children, and want to offer both my insights and access to any resources you might need, up to and including assistance obtaining a larger house should you need it.”
“I see.” He isn’t wrong; Lois suspects the public doesn’t know a tenth of what Bruce Wayne’s children have gone through. “I may take you up on that, Mr. Wayne, but I want to get a chance to talk to Danny first.”
“That’s perfectly reasonable. Feel free to contact me whenever, Ms. Lane.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”
“Goodbye.”
Of course they adopt the kids. Jon and Kon are actually thrilled by the additions; partially, because Jon absolutely adores Cousin Danny for “reasons”. Mostly because hey, Danny’s a hero too, one that can fly and go invisible and do all sorts of neat things that Lois didn’t know about because he died and how did I not know Phantom was Danny? Especially since Clark’s known for at least a year now and-
Lois stops herself in the middle of another guilt spiral. She hadn’t known. Of course she hadn’t known, because Maddie had gone weird the last few- well, the last two decades or so, and nobody in the family ever really talked to her except Alicia. Who kept the rest of them informed of the bare minimum, like the fact that the kids existed at all, and occasionally forwarded pictures, which is the only reason she’d recognized Danny in the first place. And Clark respected secret identities, so if Danny had asked him not to say anything, he wouldn’t. It was one of the reasons he was a great journalist. So yes, of course Lois hadn’t known. Just like she hadn’t known Danny and Jazz were basically abuse victims, through neglect if nothing else. And she can see the load that’s missing from Jazz’s shoulders since the adoption went through.
Not to mention, Lois thinks as her eyes focus on the screen in front of her, what happened once she and Clark learned about the GIW.
Needless to say, there were about 100% fewer guys in white suits running around Amity Park these days, and at least three senators, the ones who’d written that abhorrent act, who were no longer in power. That had been a good week.
Let’s hear it for the power of the press.
The only real problem they’d had is that Metropolis was, in Danny’s words, ‘too clean’. “The dead don’t linger here,” he’d said, a few days after coming back from the Watchtower. “Jazz and I can’t stay here, not full time. I’m a ghost and she’s far too liminal to be comfortable.”
She’d ended up asking for Bruce’s help after all.
Because if there was one place on the east coast that was haunted enough to sustain Jazz and Danny, it was Gotham.