Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo

Chapter 34 - Test Run (rough draft 2)

Bruce began teaching the mer how to read and write, as well as some basic math. Whenever they got tired of that, he looked up science experiments to do with children, which Tim seemed fascinated by.

After three weeks, Bruce began to feel restless for the first time since- ...for the first time in a while. He started itching to get off the island for a bit, then finally decided to see how the octopus child would handle venturing further into the human world. "Tim, we're going to go somewhere today."

"Go on boat, swim, take photos."

"No- Well, maybe we can do that later. But we're going to go into town today. 'Town.' I'm going to check my mail and buy some supplies."

"Mail boat."

"No, they won't come today. I called them yesterday and said I want to come pick it up myself."

Tim went still and narrowed his eyes at Bruce suspiciously.

"You will have to hide. There will be a lot of humans, and it's not good for them to see you. You will stay in the suitcase." Bruce paused. "Or you can stay here. Not in the house, because I know you'll wreck it if I leave you alone, but just offshore. Which one do you want, Tim? Do you want to stay here in the ocean alone for a couple of hours, or do you want to come with me where there are lots of scary humans and stay hidden in the suitcase?"

"You do not die."

"...How does that have anything to do with my question."

"I hide in suitcase, you do not die."

Bruce didn't see how those statements had anything to do with each other, but whatever; he could ask in a few months when the mer was more fluent. "All right. Let's get ready."

It had to be the suitcase, since the only other option was hauling Tim around in a backpack, and Bruce felt tired just thinking about that. Neither a wheelchair nor a wagon would sufficiently conceal Tim's lower half without inhumanely tying him up. The suitcase would work on a practical level, but it would look odd and possibly attract the wrong kind of attention unless Bruce had an alternate explanation.

"This is a cannula," Bruce explained. "Listen, this is important. When we go out to see humans and you hide in the suitcase, I will wear the cannula in my nose. It will be part of our disguise, so humans won't bother you. Don't play with the cannula, and don't pull on it. I have to keep you safe, and if you pull the cannula off me, then we won't be able to go to town and get the mail, or more fish for you to eat."

Tim was, predictably, playing with the cannula, but he was also watching Bruce's signing hands thoughtfully. "I hide in suitcase."

"Yes. Stay in the suitcase so humans won't see you."

"C-a-n-" he paused.

"C-a-n-n-u-l-a."

Tim repeated the letters several times until he'd memorized the spelling. "I safe?"

"It's hard to explain, you don't know enough words yet. Just please trust me, Tim. Don't pull on the cannula. Don't play with it. I will give you other toys. Okay?"

"...Okay."

Bruce took a test run around the island. When he was satisfied that Tim was keeping hidden and leaving the plastic cord alone, he slipped the boy a piece of fish and then headed for the boat.

It felt strange stepping onto shore for the first time in what felt like years. Everything was so familiar, yet Bruce felt like a different person. He just stood there for a while, adjusting, then took a deep breath and began moving forward. Tim was tucked away in the suitcase with wet blankets to keep him hydrated and toys to keep him occupied, the very top unzipped to let in air.

The cannula cord snaked up from inside. It was still weird to supposedly keep an oxygen tank in a suitcase, and Bruce would have to completely B.S. his way through a cover story when (not if; it was a small town) people asked, but at least 'Did you hear that Bruce developed a serious medical condition at such a young age? Poor deluded thing thinks hiding the oxygen tank in a suitcase is actually discrete' was much preferable to 'I wonder what super-mysterious valuable item Bruce is hauling around so protectively.'

It was a much longer trip without a bike, but it wasn't like Bruce had anything else to do, and he could use the exercise since he'd been slacking off lately. He went to the post office first and was detained for a while by the curious postmaster, who chatted with him about everything from his cannula cover story to how his parents were doing to what Dick was up to (allegedly spending a few weeks at camp).

Bruce, depressed introvert that he was, wanted to call it quits the minute he escaped, but they really did need more food and some odds and ends. He sighed and found a building to hide behind, then crouched to check on Tim. "Are you okay?" he murmured, opening the zipper a little wider so he could see the boy's reply.

"Humans."

"You did very well. You were very quiet and stayed hidden, so no one knew you were there. Good job."

"Good job."

"Do you need to go home early, or should we stop to get more food first?" Bruce asked, half-hoping Tim would give him an excuse to not be responsible.

"Food."

"You sure? Are you scared, or not scared?"

"Scared. Food. You do not die."

"...I don't know how to interpret that. Do you want to stay longer with the scary humans and get more food, or do you want to go home where it's safe and quiet and we can take a nap?"

"I want food. You do not nap, we play checkers."

"...All right, fine." Bruce got some more fish for the mer but didn't bother getting any food for himself - he could survive for at least a few days on the dregs of supplies left at the back of his cabinets. In the boat, he pulled out the cannula and gave an all-clear signal to Tim, who slipped into the water and swam the rest of the way home. Once in the house, Bruce set up the checkerboard and deliberately lost a game to Tim so he could check that box off the list and then throw himself onto the couch for a much-needed nap.

He woke up to find Tim squirming into his shirt. It brought up painfully bittersweet memories of other sea children cuddling up to him, and he couldn't stand it. "No," he said sharply. He wrestled the mer back out of his shirt and practically dumped him in a kiddie pool. "Personal space. I sleep there, you sleep here."

"You sleep, I sleep."

"You're wet. I can't sleep if you're getting water all over me and the couch."

Tim stared at him flatly.

"Take a nap."

"No."

"Fine, don't take a nap. Just don't bother me or I'll go upstairs." He dragged over the entire toy basket, then went to curl up on the couch again.

He couldn't get them out of his head, a certain fish mer affectionately cuddling with him even in captivity and a soft little seal relaxing in his arms, trusting him not to be cruel like so many others of his kind.

Bruce bit down hard on his own forearm to stop himself from wailing. He lay rigid on the couch for a long time, eyes squeezed shut, listening to the soft clinking sounds of Tim playing alone.

TBC