The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 6.1 (rough draft 2)
It was a relief when the repairs were finished, at least to Bruce, who felt comfortable in his own house again. Damian and Duke both seemed to be bored and restless, and spent hours either training or just...gone.
Bruce kept meaning to investigate more, but he'd usually only have time to check on a tracker location and vital signs before he'd be distracted by a Robin knocking something over, or a Robin hitting one of his brothers, or a Robin eating something that wasn't food, or a Robin tugging on his shirt to get his attention...
"I pet the cat, I am gentle, he is soft, I love him," John reported.
"Very good, John," Bruce said, glad that at least one of the Robins could now touch the cat without hurting or scaring him.
"'Ppo-kka Ffss,' plllease," Jack asked Duke.
"Little man, I am so tired of that song..."
Jack swerved over to Bruce and presented the phone he had somehow gotten ahold of. "'Ppo-kka Ffss,' pllllease."
"Where in the world did you get this?" Bruce murmured, inspecting the device. Jack must have found a stash of older, discarded models.
"'PPO-KKA FFSS.' PPEES."
"It won't work on that one, Jack. I'll have to do it on mine." Bruce tapped at the screen, silently debating whether he should get a tablet or something for Jack. He had a feeling the little boy would be on it 24/7 if he did. 'Maybe I'll let him have one when he learns enough to be able to purchase it himself.' "Jack, when the song is over, I'm going to start teaching you how to count money."
"[*censored because FFN is stupid*]"
"And if you're going to sing the rest, please use the child-friendly lyrics...I can't believe Dick taught you this..."
Bruce glanced around and realized that Duke had vanished while he was preoccupied.
He had to wait until the song was over to send a Where are you? text. He started laying out coins and bills for Jack and teaching him how much each was worth, then finally received a reply from Duke: hangin out w izzy and them. Another text came in from Tim before he could type back: Just one hour, Bruce. I'll keep an eye on the birds if I have to.
Bruce sighed and texted Alfred, who was working in the gardens. The two of them got the children dressed in nicer clothes with high collars to conceal the leash scars, and Bruce, anticipating multiple possible future scenarios, asked Alfred for sunglasses. The ever-reliable butler managed to produce three pairs that fit the boys but were large enough to cover most of the domino mask-shaped scars on John's and Peter's faces.
Of course the boys' immediate reaction was to pull the glasses off again and either throw them away or play with them.
"John, you have to keep it on, for Dick's sake. It's to protect Dick."
John paused. "Safe Ddi'ckksafe?"
"Yes. Wear the sunglasses to protect Dick." He turned to Peter. "Look, Peter, I will wear sunglasses, too." He put on his own pair. "They don't hurt at all, see?"
"Keep [big chirp-chirp] safe," John twittered at his brothers, who grudgingly put their sunglasses back on (it took a few tries and a bit of help - their fine motor skills needed some work). With snug hats to cover their green hair and the tips of the older boys' ears (Jack's were passably round by now), they almost looked like ordinary children.
When the kids were ready, Bruce went to check on Damian, who was still asleep in his room with Titus. Bruce was becoming increasingly concerned about why Damian had recently been spending so many daylight hours in bed, but he couldn't do anything about it at the moment. He touched a feather-light kiss to his son's hair, left a note in case the boy woke up while they were still gone, then went to the car to help Alfred get the Robins buckled in.
That took quite a while, since being strapped in caused the children to panic. They quieted a little when Bruce buckled himself in, but were still too upset to even sit down until Jack managed to figure out how to work the buckle.
"Yes, but you have to keep it fastened when the car's moving. It's to keep you safe, boys. Safe."
John finally submitted to the seatbelt, at the cost of immediately falling into what looked like a dissociative episode. It took almost half an hour to convince Peter to let someone fasten his belt, and even then, he insisted it be Jack, whose tiny, fumbling fingers struggled with the mechanism for another full four minutes. By that time, John had come back to himself and was crying, and Bruce couldn't even comfort him because the boy screamed at even the smallest movement in his direction.
'I hate Earth -22. I hate that world with all my heart.'
At long last, Alfred was able to start the car. At first, the children whimpered in fear, but then grew transfixed by the moving view outside the windows. John rested his face on the glass and gazed out silently; the younger two exclaimed and cooed, their fear finally forgotten.
When the car slid into a parking space at Wayne Tower, Bruce pulled out a package of treats before the children could remember to be upset again. "Look. You did well with the seatbelts. Stay calm, I'm going to take them off, you're going to hold onto my hand or Alfred's, and you'll get a treat for leaving the seatbelts on while we drove." Peter and Jack grabbed their rewards as usual; John looked too sick to take his. He shied away from Bruce and clung to Alfred. "All right. That's all right, John. You did well in the car. Good job."
Wayne Tower had always offered childcare services for WE employees, and the center on the second floor had expanded its functions since the apocalypse. It wasn't quite as crowded now as it had been a week earlier, but a fair number of refugee families still remained. Bruce didn't like the idea of leaving the Robins in the childcare center while he went to meet with Tim, but Alfred convinced him that it would do the boys good to interact with normal children their own age.
"Someone might get hurt."
"I will look after them, Master Bruce, and I did trim their nails this morning."
"We haven't fixed their fangs yet."
"They haven't bitten any of the animals at home." Which was true. Peter and the cat still occasionally got into fights, but the boy tended to pull or hit rather than bite, even when Alfred scratched him up. As long as that trend continued, he wouldn't cause any more damage than an ordinary child might, if things went south.
"...All right. But bring them to me if they look like they're getting agitated."
He went with them to make sure they settled in okay, and was swarmed by a little group of employees' spouses who were taking turns supervising the kids. After talking with them a while, briefly responding to their curiosity about his odd new foster children, and making sure that the Robins weren't wreaking havoc, he excused himself and headed for a stairwell.
o.o.o.o.o
Ronin Walker had stopped counting the number of days her family had been homeless, because it was too depressing and the last thing her husband and children needed from her right now was more negativity. So she took things one day at a time, and made a point to thank God every morning that Trace still had his job and that there was a safe place for all four of them to sleep at night and live during the day.
It was okay that there wasn't really anywhere to go outside this building, and that Ronin had to rely on the company cafeteria for food rather than being able to cook her family's meals herself, and that they had to share the building's grand total of ten showers with so many other people who needed to wash their clothes as well as bathe. It was okay that Ronin's children were often bored out of their minds and that they all had to sleep crowded together in Trace's office every night. She and her husband and Mackenzie and Johanna were all alive and safe, so life was good; thank you, Jesus.
Ronin was on childcare duty today with Margie Sawyer, Mel Hammond, and Renée Harper. A few of the parents were tentatively taking their older children to the makeshift school that had opened recently, but the streets of Gotham were still not quite safe when there weren't at least a couple of GCPD officers in sight, and Ronin was one of many who had opted to keep her children 'home' for now. She kept making vague plans to create some sort of self-study program for the girls, but things kept going wrong or she kept being too busy to finish the necessary research and preparations, so the only education her kids had been getting for the past few weeks was the children's book series of historical fiction that Johanna had been plowing through.
"We could try lessons for the little ones, at least," Ronin suggested. "I found some preschool songs on the Internet the other day, numbers and letters, that sort of thing. Frankie said it was easier when they had some structure, rather than just letting the kids free play all day."
"Oh, sure, sounds good," Margie said, fanning herself and making no actual contribution.
"I think I'm going to do another head count," Mel said anxiously, even though he'd just counted the kids twenty minutes ago.
Renée came briskly back from the sink, where she'd just washed her hands after changing a diaper. "I wish Diane would toilet-train her children soon. Mine were already out of diapers by that age."
'Trace still has his job, the girls are alive and safe and healthy, life is good, thank you, Jesus,' Ronin silently chanted.
Someone came to the door of the childcare center, and it was Bruce Wayne. Just as Ronin was forcing a smile onto her face and pushing down resentful assumptions about how he'd probably been partying in the Bahamas or something during the apocalypse, and was probably going to fly out to one of his other millions of vacation homes within the hour - she saw the children.
There were three of them, two clinging to his butler and the third holding Mr. Wayne's hand. They were dressed oddly, as if they had some obscure allergy or medical condition, though their outfits couldn't quite conceal all the old scars that marked their skin; and their teeth...! Perhaps Mr. Wayne hadn't been partying these last couple of weeks, after all.
Renée and Mel were closer to the door, so they were the ones who greeted him. "Mr. Wayne! This is an unexpected surprise!"
"I got called in for a meeting - I was hoping I could leave my foster children here for an hour or so."
"Of course, of course! You have new ones?"
All eyes were now on the children. The tiny one holding Mr. Wayne's hand gestured in what looked like sign language. Behind them, the oldest child looked both tense and tired as he held tight to the butler, and the third child bared his fang-like teeth at all the staring adults.
"Yes. Their circumstances are complicated, and I couldn't leave them to the mercy of the foster system, especially with Gotham in the state it is right now."
Ronin, though alarmed at the prospect of allowing these strange creatures to join the rest of the children - surely Mr. Wayne wouldn't bring them here if they were dangerous, would he? - warmed at the confirmation that, no, the billionaire hadn't been living it up while his employees suffered. He may not have been enduring the same hardships they had, but he hadn't been taking it easy, either.
"Look at the poor things, all bundled up," Margie said. "We can put their hats and sunglasses over-"
"No." Everyone looked at him in surprise, but Mr. Wayne's expression and tone were already pleasant again. "No, the kids are pretty sensitive and tend to spook easy, it'd be best if we leave their gear on." He cocked an eyebrow at them all. "I'd appreciate it if their boundaries are respected."
"Oh, of course, Mr. Wayne!"
"This is Jack, that's John, and that's Peter. Jack and Peter can speak a little, but all three boys communicate mostly with sign language. Please ask Alfred if you have any questions or run into any trouble."
Alfred, who had been working to get the older boys settled at the art table with some paper and crayons, nodded in acknowledgement.
Ronin approached the youngest child and held out her hand. "Hello, sweetheart. Would you like to come with me and I can show you some of the toys we have?"
"Tt...ttoy, plllease."
Margie and Renée stifled snickers, but Ronin's heart melted. Mr. Wayne hadn't just taken in more blue-eyed, black-haired children to boost his image, he had opened his heart and home to three special little children, and the boy had asked so sweetly, and he was so tiny, Ronin wanted to give him all the toys in the world.
"Good asking, Jack." Mr. Wayne crouched to the boy's level and looked him hard in the eye. "Be gentle, Jack. Gentle."
"Gge'ttle."
Mr. Wayne lowered his voice, but Ronin was still close enough to hear him. "Like cats. The other children are like cats, all right? No scratching, no pulling, no hitting. Gentle."
Well. The fact that that warning was necessary was somewhat alarming.
The little boy gesticulated in sign language again, at one point making a noise that sounded like "Aahffed."
"Yes. Be nice to Alfred the cat, be nice to Alfred the human, and be nice to the children here."
"Yysss."
"All right. Now go play."
The little boy turned and trotted away, straight toward a toy that he apparently found interesting. Unfortunately, the toy was already being played with by a child named William. Jack matter-of-factly plucked the toy out of William's hands and took no notice of the other boy's dismayed cry and subsequent tearful wailing.
"Jack!" Mr. Wayne started storming over.
Jack immediately started petting William, practically climbing on him and forcing him to the ground as he ran his palm over the screaming boy's head and shoulders. "Gge'ttle! I gge'ttle!" He insisted.
Mr. Wayne pulled Jack off, then stood there awkwardly holding the squirming, shrieking child as Margie rushed to snatch up William and fuss over him. Everyone stared at Mr. Wayne and the creature he had brought into their midst. "We...haven't..." he started awkwardly. He looked at the boy he was holding. "Jack, you have to share these toys."
"Ssshhare!" Jack said angrily, then burst into a series of noises that sounded like birdsong.
Peter, watching from behind the bank of cubbies, chortled and bird-sang back. John was curled up tightly on the floor with his hands clamped over his ears.
'Oh my God,' Margie mouthed in disbelief.
Mr. Wayne shook his head, looking pained, and Ronin's heart went out to him. "If they can just have a few toys and books in a corner somewhere, no one has to go near them. Alfred can look after them; I just need an hour to take care of some business, and then I'll take them home."
It was terrible, the way everyone else in the room had moved away from the bird-like children, the judgmental way the other two women were watching, the way Mr. Wayne's little boys looked so unhappy in a place that had been specifically designed to be welcoming to kids. Ronin stepped forward and knelt to Jack's level, reaching out her hands to the frightened-looking boy, but not touching him yet. "Jack, may I hold you?"
He paused and studied her. Then Mr. Wayne let go and Jack was immediately in her arms and she found that he was shaking a little. Ronin smiled up at Mr. Wayne. "We've got them. It's all right."
He looked uncertain. "I've... They've never been to school, I haven't gotten a chance to teach them everything-"
"It's all right. Everything will be fine."
Mr. Wayne rested a hand on Jack's head and said, "Be good, Jack. I'll come back later." Then he went to say goodbye to the other boys. The watching children lost interest, and Mackenzie came up to her mother.
"What's wrong with these kids, Mom?"
"There's nothing wrong with them, sweetie. They're just a little scared and maybe don't know how to share yet, that's all. But they'll learn." She picked up the abandoned toy, since William was now on the other side of the room, playing with blocks with some other children. "Jack? Sweetie? You can have this toy now."
He raised his face out of her shoulder, looked around the room, then sat up straight. He took the toy and started pressing buttons on it, looking confident and self-assured again.
"Did you want Mackenzie to play with you?"
"Mom!"
But Jack did not respond or even look at them, totally absorbed in the toy.
"Kenzie, keep an eye on him and let me know if he starts looking lonely, okay?" Since the butler was already with Peter, speaking coaxingly to him, Ronin went over to Mr. Wayne's third child. The boy was still on the floor, though by now he had uncurled and was lethargically running a crayon over the coloring sheet that Mr. Wayne had moved to the floor for him.
Ronin sat down on the floor nearby, and he eyed her. "Hello, John. My name is Mrs. Walker."
After a pause, he made a gesture she didn't recognize.
"I'm sorry I don't know much sign language. I taught my girls a few words when they were babies, but I never actually learned it for real."
He sat up and moved his hands in what must have been at least a whole sentence in ASL.
"Er..." She had no idea what he'd said, so she looked for a way to change the subject. "What a pretty coloring page you have, John." She reached for another sheet and picked up a magenta crayon. "Would you like me to color with you?" He watched closely as she worked on her coloring sheet for a minute. Then he reached out to gently touch her fingernails. Her first instinct was to hide them - she hadn't had a chance to fix them since the apocalypse, and they were so ugly by now, but then it occurred to her that he was a little boy and wouldn't care about the state of her nail polish. It was probably just the bright color that had attracted his attention.
"It's Robin's Egg Blue," she said in embarrassment. "I know it's not a good color on me, but it looked so pretty in the sample I couldn't help trying it out, and then the world practically ended and I haven't had a chance to re-do them... I look much better with pink, and definitely better when they're not all chipped and half-grown out..."
"Wwah'bbin," he whispered. Then he crawled into her arms. She wasn't expecting that, but the sensation of a child's warm body snuggling into hers was firing up her maternal instincts, and she cuddled him back.
"Such a sweet boy," she crooned. "Hello there, sweet bird."
He abruptly pulled back, staring at her in a surprised, almost dismayed way.
"You don't like that?" she guessed. "Too girly for you?"
He made a frightened, bird-like sound.
"All right, all right, it's okay, um, tiger." She didn't have sons, she didn't know any manly endearments. "Tiger boy?"
He laid back against her, though he still seemed tense for a while.
TBC