The baby had to be kept for two days in an incubator at the NICU – just a precaution, doctors had told them, to be sure he was breathing steadily and his heart was fine.
As Selina slept after surgery, unable to leave the bed, Bruce spend the night in the NICU, gently caressing his son's soft skin and tiny hands, examining him in details and watching him sleep. A perfect little being, perfect in every sense of the word, perfect in every single way. He would be lost in that small face, learning about his features and searching for the similarities, recognizing Selina here, or himself there. Details he would never think about: eyelashes, earlobes, nails. They now meant something, something he had in common with his son, something the boy had inherited directly from him. Connections, his connection with that baby, and with Selina – thanks to his son, he would always remember her, always see her in their child.
Their child: it was a powerful thing to share – a child.
He thought a lot about Damian, and about his new baby boy. He didn't have the chance of watching Damian as an infant, or as a small child. In fact, he had no idea how the boy had been brought to the world, and had only but a few clues about how he had been raised from babyhood to the child he was when Bruce finally met him. During the few years he had had with Damian, he had often wondered how his presence in the boy's life, if he had been there since the beginning, could have affected Damian, perhaps helped him grow not as angry, violent, resentful. It had taken so much time, so much effort for him to build a relationship with his son.
It had even been hard to love him, at first.
And Bruce would never forgive himself for that.
Especially now; he had been torn between joy and guilt – joy for his baby son, guilt for realizing that Damian was gone, and there was no way for him to make things right for his older boy. Guilt for knowing that he had, for a long time, struggled to accept his role as a father in Damian's life, when it all came so easily now.
Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian… He had had many chances of learning about fatherhood, ever since the day a young circus acrobat entered his house to be under his guardianship. How many mistakes had he made? How many times had he said things that a parent should never say? And how many times had he told himself that he wasn't the father of those boys, that he shouldn't try to replace them, that it was wrong of him to place himself as their father?
The truth was, he wasn't ready then. Not at least until Damian, when he had to make peace with the fact that he had to be a parent for that child. He had to, even though it all started for the wrong reason; even though Damian was used as a weapon, even though Damian's mother, Talia, had made sure their son wasn't a child at all.
And if he was completely honest to himself, the truth was that Dick had been the real hero then. In Bruce's absence, it was Dick that had stepped up. He had made Damian not only a great Robin – he had turned Damian into a Wayne. After that, when he returned to his life as both Batman and Bruce, things were already going well. Damian had adjusted to a more regular – less strange? – life, away from the League of Assassins.
Now, fate had given another chance. Right there, a brand new life, another little boy. A baby: perhaps the most fragile thing in the world, that required constant care and love, and had no interest in Batman, villains, aliens, violence, death. A son for him to, hopefully, see growing from an infant into a man.
And he would do all in his power to assure that.
Xxxxxxxxxxx
Selina finally went to see the baby in the morning.
"Hey, you", she said to the sleeping infant that was placed in her arms. He was doing so well that she was allowed to hold him, something Bruce himself had not done yet. She kissed the child's chubby cheeks, his forehead, touched lightly his little nose and held his tiny fingers in her thumb. "You're so handsome, baby boy."
Bruce approached them, gently caressing his son's head – it had a good portion of dark hair, soft like nothing else in the world was. "We should talk about a name, don't you think?"
Selina smiled at the baby, admiring him in what seemed to be an expression of complete amazement. "God, he's so wonderful isn't he?"
Bruce chuckled. "Yes. Yes, he is."
She closed her eyes as she kissed the baby's face again, now slowly breathing in the child's scent. She spoke in a whisper, careful to not wake him up:
"Your father and I need to find you a name, baby boy… a good one. Any suggestions?"
Bruce said nothing: it was a discussion he had had with Selina during almost her entire pregnancy. They hadn't settled in a single name through the whole time, neither for a boy or a girl. They had eventually agreed to wait until the birth, when they would finally find out the sex and would most definitely have to agree on a name. At least, Selina had reasoned, we'll have a face to look and decide. I would hate to give him a name that just didn't fit.
"I like John", she was saying.
"We've talked about this. John… Wayne?"
"John Kyle", she corrected. "It sounds nice."
"He's a Wayne."
"And a Kyle."
He sighed. "How about Kyle Wayne, then?"
"I just don't see why he has to have the Wayne name; it's just dangerous, you being who you are…"
"But he's my son. I think it's important… especially because, you know…"
"Because he's a bastard, right?"She spoke in a tone of mockery.
"Don't say that." Bruce didn't find that funny. "It's a horrible word to use about our son."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay… I'm sorry." She shrugged. "Although, it was what you were thinking, right? That you don't want people thinking you have doubts about being his father…"
"I don't", he firmly said. "Besides, it's not about what people will think… it's about how he'll feel. Don't you think he would find it weird? Not having his father's family name?"
She bit her lower lip and considered his words for a moment before answering:
"It's just that… I don't know. I think that being a Wayne might complicate things for him."
"Maybe. But it will also open many doors."
"How about Thomas Kyle? Thomas, like your dad…"
He pondered for a second, his eyes attentively watching his nameless son sleep in his mother's arms.
"I do like Thomas", he hesitantly declared, "but…"
"But?"
Bruce kneeled beside Selina, speaking softly as he gently ran the back of his fingers over the boy's head.
"When he was born… and taken to be reanimated…"
Selina took a deep breath; even the memory of that moment was enough to make her shiver. Bruce placed a hand on her leg, trying to reassure her; he proceeded:
"I… I don't know. I don't know why. But I thought about him, there, struggling to live, and I… I named him."
"Named him?"
"Yes. It's awful, but I thought that… that if he died… he should have a name. He shouldn't die without a name."
He didn't raise his eyes to look at her, thinking that she would hate it; she would hate to know that he had considered that, their child dying, dead. However, when she finally spoke, she didn't sound angry or upset – in fact, there was an unusual tenderness in her voice:
"And how did you call him?"
He smiled faintly:
"Henry. I called him Henry."
She remained in silence for a while, quietly staring at the child. And then, in an almost soundless manner, she repeated the name, trying it in her lips:
"Henry… Henry…" Turning to Bruce, she pressed her lips tightly together, then smiling. "I think I like it. Henry."
Bruce took her hand, kissing it gently:
"Henry Wayne", he solemnly said.
But Selina replied:
"Oh, now you're just pushing your luck…"
