Mews
by TwinEnigma
Standard Disclaimer - I do not own Batman or any of the characters therein. I do not do this for profit, but rather for fun and skills building.
NB: originally posted on my tumblr, related sketches are on my dA; crossposted to my new fanfiction LJ, daddywarbats
Warnings: AU, Court of Owls spoilers, one shot
He had already begun his training when the Bat took him in. The feathers still cling to him, marking him as Tyto, and he knows he'll never really stop being an owl.
Bruce - the Bat, prey- doesn't really understand.
Oh, he remembers compassion and love and everything nice like that, but it's locked up, somewhere deep and buried in the earth, with everything that was Dick Grayson and the sound of screaming he no longer knows how to vocalize.
When Bruce approaches him and tries to say that it will be all right, that things will be better, and look how much progress you've made, son, he squirms uncomfortably, because it isn't all right. He knows, Bruce has to know, that Tyto - Dick - is not really restraining himself completely, that many of the criminals he stops end up dead from brain hemorrhages and internal bleeding, crushed by the force the owl uses on them, and he dreads the day Bruce will tell him he's not allowed to leave the mews to hunt anymore.
Bruce had made the terms for coming along with the Bat very clear: they do not kill. Tyto doesn't know how not to kill and the pressure of restraining himself is driving him mad.
Bruce does not understand this.
Damian - another bird, proud, a predator raised, an Aquila not a bat, not prey, never prey - is much easier to understand and live with.
He is young yet, but he knows. He knew what Tyto was the second he saw him and he doesn't mind the scent of blood on his talons, not when his own are equally bloodied. Tyto's comfortable with him, more so than any of Bruce's other associates, and it's nice to have the company of a fellow bird of prey in this empty house-turned-mews. Damian's training was similar, more complete and from much earlier, without the colorful illusion of childhood that Tyto had robbed from him and shattered beyond repair. In a way, he thinks Damian's training was kinder - with him, there had never been anything to break.
And Damian sees, sees the blows that are too hard, the restraint that is barely there, and doesn't say a thing. He, too, is guilty of it, this slipping. After all, they are birds of prey and this is what they are trained to do. It's in their nature and it's hard to curb what comes naturally. It's instinct.
But Bruce - the Bat - he's different. He doesn't understand the slips. He doesn't understand them. He's prey, for the Court, for the League. He's trying to save them, make them moult all their feathers to become human again, and he's the one who now holds their jesses. If he wants, he can keep them in the mews indefinitely.
He won't. He's soft and he'll cave eventually.
And because they are obedient and well-trained, they will wait until he's ready to use them again.
But for now, things stay as they are.