Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo
Missing scene (rough draft)
*maychorian asked if Bruce & Jason had ever talked about Jay's time with the League, and I realized that either such a conversation or at least a reference to it was necessary. I'll find a place to work it into a previous chapter next time I do edits.
o.o.o
Bruce became aware of a small body invading his blankets and pressing against him. The realization that the body was shivering pushed him from 5% awake to 15% awake. " 'Sokay," he mumbled, putting an arm over the child and patting soothingly. " 'Sokay..."
He wondered vaguely why the child was dry and didn't have that familiar sea-salt scent until a tiny voice whimpered his name and he remembered that not all of his children were mer. He couldn't remember names other than Dick's, and this wasn't Dick, but his sleepy brain conjured an impression of smooth dark fur and a precious, angry face. " 'Sokay," he mumbled to the son whose name he couldn't remember but whom he knew he loved very much. He meant to sit up and ask what was wrong, but instead, he fell back into full sleep.
o.o.o
When Bruce woke up for real, it was to find Jason nestled in his arms and Tim wrapped in a wet blanket and sitting on him, tentacles coiled around his limbs, fingers tapping at a tablet.
Bruce tried to get up but ended up not moving, all his efforts expressed in a wordless groan. The tentacle in his hair tightened uncomfortably and Tim leaned to peer into his face.
"Mornin'," Bruce mumbled. Jason scrunched tighter for a moment, then suddenly sat up, swaying and blinking. "Hi, Jay."
Color bloomed across Jason's face. "Sorry," the boy mumbled. He fought free of the blankets and fled before Bruce had even managed to sit up. Once Bruce was upright, he rubbed at his eyes and then looked at his remaining son, who hadn't shifted, meaning that Tim's upper body had come to rest on the blankets and his tentacles were still clutching Bruce's now-vertical body.
Man and octo-mer looked at each other. "What are you doing?" Bruce asked.
"You are everyone's day dad. You are my night room dad. But Jason came to night room." He painstakingly arranged his face into a frown. "I don't like it."
"Were you jealous, Tim?"
All eight tentacles briefly stilled. "No," his hand signed, at the same time a tentacle reached up to exclaim, "Jealous!"
"I love you, Tim. I always love you, whether there are other children here or not."
Tim looked away and pushed his hands into the blankets as if burying them, but his tentacles flailed, "Love me yes!"
Bruce leaned over to kiss Tim's forehead, then peeled away tentacles and forced himself to his feet so he could start getting ready for the day.
About an hour later, he tracked Jason to the beach where the little selkie was lying in seal form, gazing out at the waves. At his approach, Jason shifted to human form, his pelt a full-length robe to preserve his modesty instead of the normal hoodie. "What?" Jason asked sullenly, color creeping into his face.
"Are you doing all right?" Bruce asked, sitting down beside him.
"Yeah."
"I don't mind you coming to me at night, you know. Dick used to climb into my bed all the time before...everything."
"He have nightmares or something?" Jason asked suspiciously.
"Sometimes. He likes to cuddle regardless, though." Dick had rarely slept with him at the Tower, and Bruce wondered, not for the first time, about the Titans' sleeping arrangements. He still didn't know much about went on in the kids' private rooms. He'd awkwardly tried to give Dick The Talk and had made an even more feeble attempt with Kori (she, at least, seemed to have some prior knowledge), but he still didn't actually know anything about their intimacy level or even if they shared a room.
Jason sighed deeply and drew up his knees, wrapping his arms around them. "I dream about that Demon's Head place sometimes," he mumbled.
"Demon's Head?" Bruce repeated warily.
"Yeah. That's what they called that creepy old guy, 'the Demon's Head.' He was in charge. His daughter bought me from the traffickers, and they locked me up and...an' took my- my pelt." He tightened his grip on his legs, his body scrunched up as small as he could get.
"I'm sorry they did that to you, Jason," Bruce said softly.
"It felt so bad," Jason choked out. "It felt...like they'd - cut off a piece of me. Like, just took it. An'...an' I couldn't...!"
Bruce put an arm around his shoulders and drew him close, and Jason cried into his side for a while. The boy finally swallowed the last of his sobs and swiped his sleeve under his nose. Bruce gave him a handkerchief. Jason touched it briefly to his face but then just clutched it, still leaning heavily into Bruce's side.
"I'm so sorry I didn't look for you, Jason," Bruce whispered. "I hate myself for my own stupidity. I should never have believed her, I should have looked for you. I'm sorry."
"You wouldn'ta found me, anyway," Jason mumbled. "I was halfway 'cross the world. They had...like, ninja guards all over the place. I couldn't-" He broke off and pressed his face into Bruce for a while. Bruce kissed the top of his head and squeezed him tighter.
"I'm so glad I'm back," Jason whispered. "With...you." He cleared his throat and warily raised his head. "You call off the adoption, or...?"
"I will officially adopt you as soon as it's safe for me to show my face in public again," Bruce said firmly, "and in the meantime, I consider you to already be my son."
"Like, 100% all the way forever, or just-?"
"100% all the way forever," Bruce answered before Jason could finish the question.
The boy hid his face again and a hand crept out to grip Bruce's shirt.
"If you ever want or need to talk about what happened in that place, I'm willing to listen," Bruce said.
"Yeah," Jason whispered.
"Or if you don't feel ready yet, that's okay, too. I just don't want it to fester and eventually hurt you worse."
Jason exhaled deeply and relaxed a little. "I don't...wanna talk about it right now."
"All right."
"Just...um, this...I like this." Meaning the hugging, Bruce assumed.
"I like it, too," Bruce murmured.
Then they just sat quietly for a while and watched the waves.
Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo
Chapter 54 - Batman (part 1) [rough draft]
Bruce stared at the computer screen, watching through Robin's motionless mask feed as Raptor was electrocuted and then slammed to the ground before he could recover. Restraints were clamped on the child before he was dragged, struggling weakly, out of the frame.
Raptor had been the last to fall. The entire rest of the team was already out of commission, all of them taken down by a ruthless group of unfamiliar metahuman teenagers.
Bruce was frozen, shaking and fighting for breath. Those were his children. Dick, Jason, Damian, and their friends, even Goliath, all of them hurt to the point where they couldn't fight anymore, unconscious or maybe even killed...!
He had to do something, he had to do something, but he was stuck helpless and useless in front of a computer, and he didn't have any abilities greater than the Titans' even if he'd been there in person...
A soft thump drew his attention. He managed to turn his head enough to look at Tim.
The little mer was staring at him, eyes wide, tentacles still. "Help brothers! Yes...?"
Bruce swallowed. "Yes. We have to save them."
Tim's tentacles flared to life, five of them snatching up fidgets from a box on the floor and working at them frantically. His frightened, uncertain expression smoothed back into neutrality. "Good."
Bruce jumped out of his chair and tapped his comm, bending to pick up Silkie. Distractedly feeling Tim grab onto him and slide onto his back, he spoke hurriedly as he marched out of the room. "Alfred, the Titans ran into trouble and I'm going to help them. I'm heading to the equipment room; come get Silkie and let Ravi know what's going on, then get to the computer and stand by."
"Very good, sir," Alfred said, sounding even more professional than usual.
"Tim, what are you doing?" Bruce asked as he half-ran down the corridors. "Don't you want to stay on the computer?"
"Sssaffe Tti'ck Sshay Ttami," Tim whispered.
"Yes, but I'm going out to save them. You can't keep up without legs." He grunted as the tentacles tightened around him painfully for a moment.
"Tti'ck nno lle'ck," Tim hissed fiercely. "Ffight. Ttim nno lle'ck ffight."
"But you don't know how to fight! I never taught you!" The tentacles tightened punishingly again and he gave up arguing in favor of running.
When Bruce reached the equipment room, he dumped Silkie in the nearest box and then rummaged through storage cases with Tim still clinging to his back. He tossed any likely-looking weapons and gear on the floor, intending to sort through it all for the most useful items once he had everything out. At one point, Alfred arrived, pausing near the entryway to watch.
Once the initial ransacking was finished, Bruce threw himself to his knees and started pawing into the pile. Tim finally slithered off and did the same, hands and tentacles sifting through the items.
Bruce avoided anything shaped like a firearm except for a couple of grapple guns. He snatched up some extra line as well. There were some miniature explosives that looked useful, as well as darts, throwing blades, and a collapsible bo staff. He also collected potentially useful non-weapons such as lock picks, first aid supplies, and smoke bombs.
Meanwhile, he was vaguely aware of Tim selecting a pair of pre-loaded utility belts and slinging them over his body, crossed over his chest like bandoliers. Alfred came over and murmured to the boy, then stood and walked away. He returned with a jar and a long-sleeved red and black armored garment. Alfred got Tim coated with a layer of hydrating gel before helping him put on the armor and then replacing the bandoliers, adjusting them to fit better.
Bruce finally paused and said, "He's not going out with me, Alfred."
"He seems rather determined, sir. I hope you're not expecting me to keep him confined, particularly when I'll be busy manning the computer for you."
"He's not like the other boys!" Tim, lacking any solid lower limbs, was slower than his brothers, and he was so tiny, his unusual body shape further exaggerating the effect. "He can't even-" Bruce aimed a blow at Tim to demonstrate, intending to halt before connecting.
To his utter shock, Tim brought up a forearm to block him. Properly.
Father and son stared at each other for a moment, Bruce's mouth hanging open, Tim's face expressionless and his tentacles coiling and uncoiling.
"Did...did someone...teach you how to fight?"
"Ttami. Ppa'ckiss. Ppa'ckiss, ppa'ckiss. Kkood."
"Damian...taught you how to fight? Made you practice?"
"Ttami ppa'ckiss," Tim confirmed. "Tti'ck. Sshay. Tton. Kowi. Gahff. Wwoy. Ppa'ckiss. Kkood Ttim." Damian, Dick, Jason, Donna, Kori, Garth, and Roy. Apparently they hadn't spent all of their time with the little octo-mer simply playing.
Bruce carefully put the boy through his paces. Tim demonstrated one or two offensive moves, but most of what he seemed to know was basic defense. What he did know, he knew well. He hadn't been out of Bruce's sight long enough to have practiced that much...unless he'd worked on training during times when Bruce was asleep.
Then a tentacle picked the bo staff out of Bruce's supply pile and flicked to extend it. The tentacle handed it to webbed hands and Tim swung, the entire operation so swift and smooth that Bruce barely got his jaw picked up off the floor in time to block. "Huh," he said weakly.
Alfred wordlessly added a black backpack to Bruce's pile that was the right size to fit a young octo-mer, then attached one of Dick's specialized vigilante scooter boards to the patch on the front of Tim's torso.
"Show me you know how to use that," Bruce ordered. Tim had used scooter boards before, but never the specialized ones, and he wasn't particularly agile with them since his tentacles didn't always cooperate.
Tim slipped the scooter free and set it on the ground, heaving himself onto it. He was slower and a little more awkward about it than Dick was, but it wasn't as bad as Bruce had feared. "Go touch that cabinet and then come back," Bruce ordered, pointing.
Tim, sitting upright on the scooter rather than on his belly like Dick did, looked between Bruce and the cabinet. Then he set off, stumbling for a moment before his tentacles adjusted to the right rhythm. He made good time reaching his target. It took him a moment to turn and reverse direction, but the pause was minimal, and he soon came sailing back. He halted in front of Bruce. A few tentacles tried to pull him off to the side, but he handed them some fidgets and they subsided, distracted by the interesting new stimuli.
"If you're in the field, you can't have fidgets that make noise."
"If I may," Alfred said, and fetched some squishy stress balls. Tim struggled with his tentacles for a moment, but soon managed to switch out the toys. He looked up at Bruce expectantly, tentacles now silent as they worked.
Bruce couldn't afford to waste anymore time; there was no telling what the team had already suffered by now. "Fine," he said. "But you have to listen, Tim, and obey my orders. We don't have time to practice together like we should."
"Help brothers," Tim signed stubbornly.
Bruce resumed his own preparations. He was more concerned about his supplies than his clothing, but it finally occurred to him that he needed both armor and a way to conceal his identity. Dark colors would be preferable for the sake of stealth.
He sorted through various garments but quickly realized, to his dismay, that there were very few that might fit him. Most of the outfits were designed for teenagers or children, and he was not only an adult, but a large one at that. Only Vic was anywhere close to his size and the young man didn't usually wear clothing while on missions since he had no modesty to preserve, his mostly-robotic body was inherently armored, and it made him more instantly recognizable as his vigilante persona.
The only articles that seemed even remotely useful were a black helmet with odd, pointed protrusions and a full-length black cape with a jagged lower edge. According to the notes on the storage units, the helmet was an old prototype that had been discarded in favor of tiny cutting-edge comm units, and the heavy cape was both armored and fireproof. (There was no explanation for the purpose of the jagged edge, which was too uniform to be from wear and tear. Knowing the kids, Bruce would not be at all surprised if the explanation ended up being "Because it looks cooler that way.") At the last minute, he also came across a rather wonderful pair of black gauntlets that were not only spiked, but included storage compartments.
It was Ravi who came to the rescue, lending Bruce a dark gray armored bodysuit. (Bruce had a hard time imagining the old man in such a suit, or even the other pieces of warrior garb in Ravi's collection, but he had no time to or interest in inquiring about the history of Ravi's wardrobe.) Bruce donned the suit, the helmet, the cape, the gauntlets, and a pair of sturdy black boots that Alfred found for him. He squeezed as many supplies as he could into a utility belt - the most conveniently-designed one he found was an unfortunate shade of yellow, but it could be hidden beneath his cape when necessary.
He surveyed himself in a mirror for a long moment, musing over a new idea. Then he had Alfred turn down the lights spared just a few minutes experimenting, watching his shadow thoughtfully. If he held or moved his cape in certain ways, the combination of that and the weirdly-pointed helmet made his silhouette look like some sort of monster. He could imagine multiple situations where it would be useful to intimidate enemies who hadn't expected or identified him.
Once he was ready, he held the backpack open and let Tim scramble into it. He zipped it partially closed and then, with Alfred's help, had to remove his cape long enough to loop the backpack straps over his shoulders. Between the heavy outfit and Tim's weight, Bruce realized he would tire quickly if he refused to lose any speed. Although he had no plans to return to the field after this mission, he still made a mental note to improve his workout routine. If he did ever find himself on another mission, he wanted to be more prepared, strong enough that all this weight wouldn't be the unnecessary distraction it was going to be tonight.
Bruce looked at himself in the mirror again, then adjusted his posture. On impulse, he grasped the edge of the cape and drew it over the lower half of his face. The helmet's whited-out lenses erased all humanity from his eyes and the backpack created a hunchback effect that enhanced the monstrous look Bruce was going for. "Perfect," he whispered.
"May you strike fear into the hearts of all your enemies, Master Bruce," Alfred said.
Bruce straightened up again. "Don't use my real name on the comms, Alfred," he said. There was very little chance any outsider would intercept the comm lines, but one could never be too paranoid in the vigilante world. "Call me Agent B, or just B."
"Very well, sir."
Bruce nodded. "You all right, Tim?"
The boy poked his back in affirmation. Bruce nodded and turned toward the door. He paused, then repeated the motion, this time grasping the edge of his cape to make it flare out dramatically. The gesture was unnecessary, but potentially useful. The more he could impress or intimidate his enemies by any means, the better.
Bruce lifted his head high and strode out of the room, ready to rescue his kids.
TBC