Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo
Chapter 32 - Quietly (rough draft 2)
Tim really liked the suitcase. He figured out how to zip it closed from the inside, and even how to relocate it by pulling it along as he sat in the office chair. Bruce lined the inside with plastic, and Tim spent long hours in his shaded hiding place, curled up with wet blankets and toys.
Bruce tried to match his sleeping schedule to Tim's in hopes of giving the mer less chance to get into trouble while Bruce was busy being unconscious. It meant both of them slept at odd hours of the day and night. Tim grew calmer as he got more familiar with the house and the objects it contained - he always had at least a few tentacles occupied with fidget toys or other interesting objects, but the disaster messes started to die down. Bruce attempted to create a schedule and was diligent about teaching the mer both English and ASL.
About a week after Tim's arrival, Clark dropped in for a visit. He let himself in and found his friend working on the computer. "Hey there, Bruce."
"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a skittish animal."
Clark smiled. When he spoke again, there was less calculated gentleness in his tone. "Just doing the weekly check-in, and-"
He paused. He looked around, then frowned at the closet. He began to approach, but Bruce hurried to get ahead of him. "Wait," Bruce said. He opened the closet door and knelt by the suitcase. "Tim, I'm coming in," he warned as if dealing with a normal child's bedroom. He unzipped about half the suitcase and peered in. "Hey, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. His name is Clark, and he will not hurt you."
After a lot of coaxing, tentacles started to snake their way out of the suitcase, and then the entire creature emerged. Bruce swaddled the child in a sodden blanket and then stood up with him in his arms. "This is Tim."
"Ohhhh," Clark said softly, reaching out. A tentacle wrapped around his wrist and held it firmly, so he stopped reaching. He grinned at Bruce. "You found another one?"
"He's not mine," Bruce snapped. "I just can't get rid of him and he nearly wound up as seagull food when I tried to send him home."
There was such a stony lack of humor in his tone and body language that Clark went back to figurative tiptoeing. It was the first time in a long time he had seen his friend up and about in a normal way rather than curled up in bed or holing up like a caveman, but Bruce was still far from his usual self. Clark supposed he had the child to thank that Bruce had made any progress at all.
"It's nice to meet you, Tim," Clark said warmly.
"Arthur didn't say anything about him?"
Clark hesitated. "We...haven't really gotten together since..." He couldn't even explain why, since Bruce wasn't a real member of the League and Jason had had nothing to do with superheroes at all, but it had just...never felt right.
Bruce stared. "You haven't had any group meetings in all this time?"
Clark stared back. He hadn't expected Bruce to care. "Is that a problem?"
"You are the Justice League," Bruce growled. "People are depending on you. You need to be coordinating, keeping an eye on hot spots and practicing disaster response plans." He paused. "Do you even have disaster response plans?"
Clark couldn't think what to reply. It had never occurred to him to plan responses to potential disasters. He mostly just showed up when hostile aliens attacked and started punching, or zoomed around rescuing people during earthquakes and such.
Bruce groaned. "Who even let you all team up? You're terrible at this."
"I think you should join the League officially," Clark decided.
Bruce shook his head in disgust. "Right. Just give me a minute to come up with the stupidest superhero name I can think of and pick out the most obnoxiously-colored cape I can find."
"I'm serious. Even without a pseudonym or a costume, I think you could make some significant contributions to the team."
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
"I mean, having you on board would help with the criticism we've been getting about not having any normal humans, but I think you, specifically, would be a valuable member regardless of that."
Tim, having had ample time to study the newcomer, chose that moment to creep away from the shelter of Bruce's body, though he still had the blanket draped over him. Keeping two tentacles wrapped firmly around Bruce and another two around Clark's wrists, the mer softly patted his hand on the S symbol while other limbs investigated Clark's hair and belt compartments.
"Keep your cell phone away from him," Bruce said, grabbing it hurriedly. "Probably shouldn't let him have your keys, either. He won't want to give them up."
"Curious little thing, isn't he," Clark chuckled, taking the opportunity to snap a photo.
"If by that you mean a klepto hoarder who can't keep himself out of every nook and cranny he comes across, then yes."
Clark dipped his head to peer at the child's face under the blanket and informed him, "You're adorable."
"You, what?"
"This is Clark," Bruce introduced. "His name is 'Clark,' but we can pick something to call him with your fingers." He combined the letter C and the sign for 'glasses.' "How about that? 'Clark.' This man is 'Clark.' "
"...Clark. Good morning."
"Good morning, buddy!" Clark replied, signing as he spoke.
"This is 'hi,' " Bruce taught the mer. "You use it to greet people. 'Hi, Clark.' "
"Hi, Clark," Tim repeated, looking like he was nearing the end of his patience.
"What's your favorite toy, Tim?" Clark asked, continuing to sign.
Bruce set down Tim by the toy basket. The boy studied Clark's feet as four of his tentacles plunged into the basket and rummaged around, eventually withdrawing with loot.
"He definitely likes those measuring spoons," Bruce remarked.
"Measuring spoons good," Tim signed absently. "I want feet, please."
"Take your socks off, he wants to look at your feet."
Tim wasn't as fascinated by toes as Dick had been, but he still studied them carefully, particularly after he asked for Bruce's feet to compare. He pressed a pen to Clark's foot.
"He wants you to hold it with your toes," Bruce explained.
Clark complied, grinning in amusement. Tim watched intently for a while, then started poking at the pen. He jiggled it until Clark lost his grip and the pen tumbled down.
"Ugly, weak," Tim commented. "Why foot? Tentacle better." He easily scooped up the pen with one of his own lower limbs.
"Yeah, but we can walk with them," Bruce said dryly. "I challenge you to do that with your tentacles."
Tim, still holding the pen, crawled over to his office chair and climbed into it, then pulled himself in the direction of the kitchen.
"He seems pretty at home here," Clark remarked. "How long have you had him?"
"About a week."
"Do you need any help?"
"No," Bruce snapped.
"All right, Bruce," Clark said, raising his hands. He smiled a little. "You look good, though. I'm glad you're doing a bit better."
"I'm fine."
After Clark left, Bruce fetched the underwater camera he'd gotten for Tim and then collected the boy. "Come on, let's go swimming. You need some time in the actual ocean."
Bruce took them a decent distance offshore. Tim peered over the edge of the boat and made no move to enter the water, but he didn't resist when Bruce picked him up and dropped him overboard. Bruce then settled down to wait.
After an hour or two, the boat started to waver and then tip. Bruce opened his eyes and watched lazily as tentacles and hands gripped, slowly heaving up the rest of the mer's body. Tim finally got himself over the edge and flopped into the bottom of the boat, where he dropped the bag of trash he'd collected and made a beeline for his blanket. Once sufficiently hidden from the sun, he pushed his camera toward Bruce. "Bad or good?" he asked, his questioning look stiff and exaggerated. He finally understood that facial expressions were an important part of ASL, but it didn't come naturally to him at all.
"Good," Bruce said before even looking. It was important to praise children and build their self-esteem. "Your pictures are very good."
"Look!"
"Yes, yes, I'm looking." Bruce started viewing them, taking his time. The boat wasn't far enough away from shore for there to be much of interest, but Tim had still managed to get some genuinely appealing photos of sunlight sifting through water, and clear images of passing fish and some sea plants. He'd also taken pictures of some of the garbage before he'd collected it.
"Humans suck," Bruce remarked, even as he marveled at how one of Tim's photos made an ethereally-drifting plastic bag look pretty. "Maybe you shouldn't be romanticizing the pollution." 'Nice job building up the child's self-esteem, Wayne.' "It's a good photo, though."
Tim had been watching him closely, keeping unusually still. He made a series of exhalations that sounded faintly like Bruce's last sentence, then signed, "What?"
"This is 'pollution.' " Bruce pointed at the garbage, then the water. "It means trash where it's not supposed to be, like in the ocean. ...I don't know what the ASL is for 'romanticize.' "
Tim cocked his head.
"You hungry?"
"Fish. Good fish."
"All right. Let's go home and eat."
TBC
A/N: Chaseha_Wing and LilliputianDuckling both suggested that Bruce ought to get Tim an underwater camera. :)
