Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo

Chapter 36 - Consultant (rough draft 2)

Although the thought of officially joining the Justice League was ludicrous when he could barely hold it together in his personal life, Bruce agreed to visit the Hall of Justice in a consultation capacity. He explained to Tim and packed for the trip, then waited, playing a game of checkers to pass the time (and distract Tim from causing any last-minute messes).

A quiet knock on the back door startled him more than it should have. Bruce found Wonder Woman standing there, smiling at the sight of the little mer, nodding a greeting to Bruce when he came to let her in.

"I know it's probably wrong to enter by the rear door, but there was more room for the jet on the beach."

Bruce frowned out at the clearly empty beach. He didn't see anything except a few odd depressions in the sand. "What jet?"

"It's invisible."

"..." Whatever. Bruce turned to Tim, who'd disappeared into the suitcase. "Tim, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Diana smiled and sat regally on the floor, facing away from the suitcase. "We're very glad you agreed to come, Bruce."

"I had to. Your collective incompetence scares me."

"You would make a welcome addition to the team."

"I can't even muster up the motivation to shave most days." Bruce pointed at his Depression Beard. "99% of my energy is used up taking care of Tim."

"I suspect much of that energy comes from having Tim in the first place."

Bruce fell silent, considering this in surprise.

"Oh," Diana said, "by the way, Arthur wanted me to ask you to bring some of those sleeves, the ones Dick wears to protect his tail."

The reminder of his other lost son was painful, and Bruce gritted his teeth against memories as he fetched a box of sleeves and tucked it into his luggage. When he came back, he found that a tentacle had ventured out of the suitcase and was poking at the coils of the Lasso of Truth. Two more soon joined it, then the rest of Tim slowly emerged.

Diana glanced half over her shoulder and smiled. "Hello, little one."

Tim raised his hands. The Lasso lit up, and then he was signing a lot. He finally stopped, eyes wide in surprise.

"What did he say?" Diana asked.

"I have no idea. That wasn't ASL, and I...haven't had time to learn much of his own language yet." Which was odd, Bruce suddenly realized. He was usually eager to learn new languages. "Tim, that is the Lasso of Truth. It compels you to tell the truth. 'Compel' means that it forces you to do it whether you want to or not."

Tim stared at the Lasso and let go of it, his tentacles coiling in close like they'd been burned. After a moment, he signed, "Scary."

"Tim," Diana asked, shifting to face him and lifting her hand, "may I touch you?"

He stared at her.

"You can say no," Bruce said.

Tim didn't say anything, merely watched Diana's hand as it slowly came closer. He sank down when the hand touched him, then closed his eyes and leaned into it slightly as she stroked his hair. "He's precious, Bruce."

Bruce swallowed and couldn't bring himself to answer.

o.o.o

Bruce spent the majority of the flight battling to keep Tim's curious tentacles from getting too much in Diana's way as she piloted. Then they came to rest on the roof of a building and Bruce followed Diana across the landing pad, wheeling Tim along behind him. The Amazon was easily able to carry the child-filled suitcase down the stairs, but Bruce still lectured, "You need to get an elevator installed. Just because you're all superheroes doesn't mean you can ignore accessibility needs. For all you know, you might someday recruit a member who can't use stairs."

"I'll let our liaison know," Diana said seriously.

They emerged into a wide, marble hall, and then Diana was showing him around the main lobby, which was currently closed to the public and contained a sort of miniature museum. Large statues of the League members were arrayed behind the Information Desk, and smaller exhibits were widely scattered around the rest of the space.

Bruce looked around, feeling unenthusiastic. It was objectively interesting to see what taxpayer money was doing to support the country's-slash-planet's superhuman protectors, but he couldn't muster up any genuine feeling about it.

"This area is for the public," Diana explained. "We ourselves spend most of our time here behind the scenes."

She gave him a keycard and showed him the training room, where the Flash and Martian Manhunter were performing some sort of exercise, but both men stopped as soon as Bruce came in.

Flash was instantly in front of them. "Superman said you have a new baby," he said eagerly, looking at the suitcase.

Bruce sighed. "His name is Tim. He's shy. And don't exaggerate; I'm just hosting him for a while until he gets bored and returns to his normal life."

"Can't I get a little peek?" Barry begged.

"He's shy."

"All right, all right, I get it," Barry said, raising his hands defensively.

There was an equipment room, a kitchen where Clark was making sandwiches, a lounge where Hal was watching TV, a huge pool, a gym, and others. The tour ended with the control room, where Arthur was sitting in front of a large bank of screens. "We took your suggestion," the Atlantean said. "At least one person is always here to monitor the news and equipment so we can respond immediately to any threats or disasters."

"Good," Bruce said dully.

There was an awkward pause.

"Is there...anything else you'd like to see while you're here?" Clark finally ventured.

Bruce sighed and resisted the impulse to answer 'no.' "I might...take a look at your setup," he mustered, gesturing at the control panel. Arthur ceded the seat to him, and Bruce sat down in it. He tugged Tim's suitcase closer, remembered to give Arthur the box of plastic sleeves, then looked at the control panel. He felt tired.

"Should we...leave you to it, then?" Barry said timidly.

"This is your headquarters. Do what you want."

After a moment, most of the League wandered off. J'onn showed Bruce a few things, and he methodically went through the various options, sensors, feeds, and settings, occasionally asking questions or making suggestions.

After a while, he felt a gentle pressure against his leg: Tim pushing inquiringly from inside the suitcase. Bruce widened the opening and reached to pull the mer out. Tim, bundled up in his blankets, was wet and messy and didn't smell super-great, but Bruce still held the child close and hid his face against soft, damp hair. Tim's fingers poked gently at his head and tentacles slowly slid around him. Fidget toys clinked and clicked.

"P'sss."

"I'm fine," Bruce started to mumble, but choked on the last syllable. The feel of a damp child in his arms was not doing good things to his heart, even as he squeezed a little tighter.

He managed to hold it together for several long minutes. Then a sob finally broke free. He tried hard to suppress it during his next inhale, but finally lost the battle. His weeping was quiet but ugly, and he tried to press a hand against his nose to stop snot from getting all over Tim even as he continued to cling to the child tightly. The sound of fidget toys at last went silent, and he was pretty sure he could feel all eight tentacles grasping him now. He tried to count them without looking in an effort to distract himself from the completely random surge of grief that had come out of nowhere to overwhelm him.

A hand gently came to rest against his back. "Bruce-"

"Don't - touch - me," Bruce tried to snarl, but it came out as a ragged gasp. He stumbled as he surged to his feet, tangled up in tentacles, and shot out a hand to catch himself on the back of the chair. Clark was the one hovering close; Diana and Barry were a little farther away, watching with horrible sympathetic expressions. Bruce didn't want their pity.

"I don't know," he choked out, "why you think-" He had to pause to suck in a breath. "-I'd be worth anything here, I can't even-! I can't- I can't-!" He groped for the handle of the suitcase and staggered a few steps, needing to get out, to get away from people and just bury himself alone in his house with Tim and the ghosts of his lost sons. "I'm leaving. I'm l- leaving, get the- I'm-"

"This way, Bruce," Diana said quietly, in front of him now. He followed her, dragging the suitcase with one hand and clinging to Tim with his other arm because the little mer felt like the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces right now.

"Bruce," Clark called at the threshold of the roof access staircase, "take all the time you need, and know that it's a standing invitation. Whenever you're ready, in two months or five years, whenever, you're welcome to join us."

Bruce wanted to spit vitriol back at him, but he also didn't want to turn his head or use his voice, and his hands were too occupied to gesture, so he stayed silent, fixing his eyes on Diana's boots as she climbed the stairs.

He didn't remember much of the journey home. The next time he was clearly aware of anything, it was of being helped into a chair in his living room, Tim still in his arms and unnaturally still, staring at him. "What are you doing?" he grumbled.

"I'm going to make you some tea," Diana said, heading toward the kitchen.

He closed his eyes, sudden calm sweeping through him as he realized he needed to be smarter in order to get rid of her. He looked up again, and Tim narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm fine," Bruce told him sweetly.

He started a card game with Tim, waiting. Diana eventually came in with three mugs, the steaming ones for the adults and the cold one with minnows in it for Tim.

"Thank you," Bruce murmured, trying to strike the right balance between sullen and grateful.

"You're welcome."

They finished their tea quietly. Bruce tried to resume the card game, but Tim ignored it in favor of watching him, sucking up minnows and working at several fidgets again.

"Feeling better?" Diana asked once the mugs were empty.

"Yes," Bruce murmured, still carefully controlling his voice. He was pleased to find that it stayed even and didn't reflect any of the squirming, raging, screaming feeling in his chest. "Thank you. I'm kind of tired, though..."

She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Rest, my friend. And don't hesitate to call us, any of us, if you need anything."

"Of course," Bruce lied smoothly.

She smiled and kissed his forehead, then bid goodbye to Tim before finally, FINALLY returning to her invisible freaking jet and flying away.

Bruce shoved his mug aside and stood up. He looked at Tim and gestured invitingly toward the rest of the house. "All yours for the wrecking, kiddo." Then he flopped down on the couch and pulled the throw blanket over his head, escaping into a nap that lasted over four hours.

When he finally woke up, it was to find himself piled under damp mounds of ripped book pages. Tim had apparently taken him up on his offer, even leaving the book covers lined up neatly by the couch, open to show off the devastated inner spines. Weirdly, the passive-aggressive display inspired a surge of genuine affection in Bruce that nearly made him laugh. He looked around for the kid, found him asleep in the closet, gently tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, then went to clean up.

TBC

A/N: Credit for the Depression Beard goes to breezy-cheezy and Chaseha_Wing!

More Cyborg stuff I had to cut:

Tim, bundled up in his blankets, was wet and messy and didn't smell super-great, but Bruce still held the child close and hid his face against soft, damp hair. Tim's fingers poked gently at his head and tentacles slowly slid around him. Fidget toys clinked and clicked.

"Hey, kiddo," Victor said softly.

Bruce heard rather than saw suckers curiously feeling along metal with soft wet pops. With his face still in Tim's hair, he belatedly remembered to ask Victor, "Are you waterproof?"

"As long as all my ports are sealed, yeah."