The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 3.1 (rough draft 2)
Helpless on the ground as his own children rip his entrails out of his body to feast on
"You've never been anything more than my puppet"
Bloody fingers tearing, bloody mouths smacking happily, "crow" "crow" "crow" "crow"
"Look how the entire world crumbles, thanks to your own hard work"
"D-Dick...please..."
"Crow~ old man" his eldest son laughs in response
Jason's fangs in his throat, Tim swallowing pieces of his liver, Damian scooping his eyes out of their sockets, as John and Peter and Jack laugh and laugh and laugh
"My good servant."
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
Joker looming over him with that eternal sick smile, rotting face sagging off the infected muscle, "They were MY children all along, didn't you know?"
"crow"
"Please!"
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
"Help me!"
"crow, crow, crow, CROW CROW CROW CROW-"
"Bruce!"
He gasped deeply, staring wild-eyed into Duke's face for a minute before forcing his stiff fingers to unclench from the boy's shoulders.
"You were starting to thrash in your sleep. Wanted to wake you before you set them off." He nodded toward John and Jack, who were curled up together in Dick's bed and starting to stir.
"Mmnnngh..." Bruce sat up and rubbed at his face. "Good." He looked around. Jason and Damian did not seem to be back yet. Alfred, Tim (with the cat curled up on his chest), and Peter were all deeply asleep; Dick was lifting weights in the training area. "Hn."
"Do you have any assignments for me?"
The way he asked it made Bruce squint thoughtfully at him. "Are you bored?"
"You always have an assignment for me."
"Things are different now. There's plenty of busywork, or you can go spar with Dick, but I have no business training sidekicks anymore." 'I never did in the first place...' "You can't have had more than three hours of sleep last night, Duke. Go back to bed. Get some rest while you still can."
Both of them glanced at the Robins. John and Jack were now chirring and warbling softly at each other, as if conversing in a private language.
"You got any earplugs?"
Once Duke was settled, Bruce went to investigate his breakfast options (well, closer to lunch by now). His own cooking was terrible, but he was too hungry to care, and he wanted to let his overworked butler rest as long as possible.
The sharp sizzling sound of bacon hitting the hot pan prompted a panicked scream from John. Bruce looked over in concern. The boy was hunched tightly on the bed as his brother patted and chirped at him.
Then the smell began wafting across the cave, and the scent of cooking food awakened Alfred, drew Jack into the kitchen like a moth to flame, and prompted a hopeful "Is it ready yet?" from Dick.
Bruce caught Jack as the boy leaped toward the stove, saving Alfred the trouble of shooing the man away. "You should have told me you were hungry, Master Bruce."
"You were sleeping," Bruce said, struggling with the determined, crowing boy in his arms. "Jack, you can eat later. It's not ready yet. You have to wait. Wait."
"CROW"
John crept close, looking torn between fear and an animal attraction to the promise of food. Bruce held out an arm, and John curled into his side. "What's wrong, John?"
"crow"
He held both boys until Alfred brought over a tray with four plates full of bacon and eggs. Dick came over with his own plate to help Bruce with the boys. The three men, in between trying to eat their own meals, worked like traffic directors to control the boys' bites, preventing the children from gobbling down all five servings in ten seconds.
Although John acted like he was starving, he was repulsed by meat, flinging bacon off his plate and grabbing at eggs instead. Jack dove to gobble the bacon off the floor, then spat it back out and screamed. He picked up the crumbling, drooly meat again, but Bruce managed to grab him before he could put it back in his mouth.
"crow" Peter called, sleepiness warring with urgency in his voice as he awakened to the smell of nearby food.
"Dammit."
It took several minutes, but they finally managed to establish a routine of sorts. Bruce, Alfred, and Dick each held a Robin; the boys were rewarded with a generous morsel of food if they specifically requested it.
"Jack, ask with words. 'Food, please,'" Bruce prompted.
Jack stared intently at the eggs.
"'Food, please.'"
"FFFOO'PPEEZ," Peter thundered.
Bruce set half a piece of bacon in front of him, which instantly vanished into the child's mouth, but he kept his eyes on the youngest boy. "Jack, say it. 'Food, pl-'"
"FFFOO'PPEEZ!" Peter demanded again.
"Peter, it's Jack's turn. Jack's turn right now. Jack-"
"CROW!" Peter screamed.
"Jack. 'Food, pl-'"
"Fffffffoo'pp...fffoo'ppeezz...?"
"Good, good job. Here you go."
"FFOO'PPEEZ FFOO'PPEEZ FFOO'PEEZ," Peter stormed. A large spoonful of scrambled eggs was set on his plate and immediately devoured. "FFOO'PEEZ!"
"You have to wait, it's John's turn now."
"CROW! Hhhh yyyou!"
Bruce ignored him. "John... Can you just say 'Please'?"
"crow" It took some coaxing, but the boy, unable to bring his lips together for the 'P' sound, finally managed a soft, "Kkuh-sssss."
"Good. Excellent."
John grabbed the chunk of scrambled eggs he was rewarded with, shoved it in his mouth, and giggled.
All the plates were nearly empty by the time Damian and Titus came galloping down the staircase, with Jason ambling after them. "Father! The commissioner's here to see you."
"Gordon?"
Peter took advantage of Bruce's distraction to seize what was left of the food, cram it in his mouth, then break out of Bruce's arms and scamper across the cave. Dick and Jack chased after him; John crawled into Bruce's lap as Alfred gathered up the plates.
"Any left for us?" Jason asked, echoed by Titus's begging stare.
"I'll be happy to make more, Master Jason."
"Make mine a cheese omelet, Pennyworth," Damian ordered, then belatedly remembered to add, "Please."
"As you wish, Master Damian."
The boy went over to where his next-oldest brother was working on the computer again, and retrieved his cat from Tim's lap. "I'm back, Alfred," he cooed. Alfred meowed at him and tucked his head under the boy's chin, purring.
"Bruce," Jason called, "I'm gonna work on security repairs after I eat. I need updated specs."
"Ask Tim," Bruce said distractedly, trying to get John settled in front of a Pixar movie. "Jim's waiting."
"I'm busy," Tim said. "Ask Alfred."
"Alfred's cooking!"
"I'll look them up," Damian said nobly. He settled the cat across his shoulders and sat down at one of the side computers.
"Bruce," Tim said, "I've contacted all the senior management who haven't gone MIA - Lucius and his family are fine, by the way - and we're going to have a video conference at 2:00."
"I don't know if I'll make it or not," Bruce said. John seemed fascinated by the movie, but every time Bruce tried to sneak away, the boy would shriek and grab onto him. "Just have it without me if I can't. Also, when was the last time you ate?"
"Not hungry," Tim mumbled.
Bruce raised his voice. "Alfred, make an omelet for Tim, too."
"Very good, sir."
"Someoooone," Dick called from across the cave, "Heeeeelp..." He was on the ground trying to hold off both Peter and Jack, who were giggling madly as they pulled at his shirt with their teeth and seemed to be under the mistaken impression that ripping it to pieces was a game.
"Jason, please," Bruce begged, completely exasperated. "I've got to go see what Jim wants."
His only unoccupied family member shrugged and nonchalantly headed over to rescue his brother.
"John, please just stay and watch the movie, I'll be right back, the rest of the family is right here-"
"CROW CROW CROW"
o.o.o.o.o
Gotham City had survived so much catastrophe in its long life, it seemed likely that she would rise again from this one, too. Still, it hurt to see what the city had been reduced to once again: shattered buildings, battered survivors, very little electricity or clean water, every corner filled with either misery or silence...
Jim Gordon, on foot because vehicles would be more trouble than they were worth in most cases, descended back to the first floor of the damaged bank and contacted headquarters with his report. He exited the building and headed for the next one, keeping an eye out for any human beings. Whether they were corpses or looters or people in need of help, part of his job was to deal with them as needed.
When he rounded the corner, he found a cluster of people just down the street, near a ravaged hotel. One man sat slumped against the wall; another man and a woman were accepting what looked like care packages from the emergency distribution center that had been set up in the remains of the main GCPD office. All three of the survivors were grimy and battered, which was the new normal. The people who had given them the care packages were unusually clean: a tired-looking young man in nondescript but fairly nice clothes, and a boy in the same state except more energetic. An unleashed dog hovered near the boy, well-behaved, its ears perked in curiosity.
Jim recognized the child, which allowed him to guess the man's identity a few seconds later. "Damian Wayne and Jason Todd."
Jason nodded at the grateful citizens, then approached Jim with his hands in his pockets. "So you're still alive, huh," he remarked.
"Sorry to disappoint you."
Jason shrugged. "Not disappointed. It's actually good to see you."
"What do you want, Gordon?" Damian asked, probably not even realizing how insulting his tone made the simple question sound.
Jim was used to it by now, so he just smiled. "To talk to your father, actually."
The two young men exchanged a glance.
"Is he at the manor? I've heard rumors he's back in town."
"You couldn't guess from the freaking paparazzi who keep trespassing on our private property?" Jason said dryly. He nodded his head at the city. "All this to report on, yet they're wasting everyone's time going after Bruce frickin' Wayne..."
"I haven't had time to stop by the mansion myself," Jim said. "How is...everyone?"
"We're fine."
"Really? The past few weeks have been..." Jim debated for a moment how much to say. "Seems like your family would have been caught in the thick of it."
"We're fine."
Damian caressed the dog's head and grumbled, "'Not dead' does not necessarily equal 'fine.'"
Jim looked at him sympathetically. "I figured your father might be having a difficult time right now."
"He won't be showing up to the police station anytime soon, if that's what you mean," Jason said. "Unless it's to help hand out care packages or something, but he's got his hands pretty full right now."
"With Wayne Enterprises?" Jim asked, in a tone that invited explanatory refutation.
"Heh. Something a little closer to home."
"I thought you all were exaggerating Father's tendency to 'collect orphans,'" Damian pouted, "but I see now how that hobby of his could be called an addiction."
Jim blinked. "Wait... There's another one now?! A minor?! In addition to the Thomas boy?!"
"It's complicated..."
"It's bad enough having them underfoot at home," Damian complained, "he'd better not start taking them out at night, too."
'Them, plural?!' Jim was all for displaced children finding loving, permanent homes. However, it was worrisome when the loving, permanent home in question happened to be run by a man who, Jim was 99% certain, was the same one who jumped around Gotham's rooftops in a bat costume every night and employed a succession of underage sidekicks. "I need to see your father."
The boys drove him out to Wayne Manor, which they had to approach through a side gate in order to avoid the handful of paparazzi milling at the front.
"Our security system's a mess," Jason said as they crossed the grounds. "The main part of the house is secure, but so far we've caught three trespassers, and I think there's been some looting in the damaged wings."
"We need to fix that today," Damian said angrily. "That's my inheritance they're stealing from."
"Beats babysitting the hellbirds," Jason agreed.
Jim did not know what to make of it when they came across a cow, of all things, grazing just beyond the gardens. Damian greeted and caressed her for a minute before continuing on.
"I...didn't know Bruce Wayne kept cattle," Jim said cautiously.
Jason grinned. "There are a lot of things about Bruce Wayne you don't know."
'Lord help me, that's true.'
The boys left Jim in the parlor and then disappeared into the depths of the house. Silence descended, and Jim wandered a little as he waited. Though the room was still fairly clean, it was different than when he'd last seen it. There were no pictures or flowers, the walls and the giant mirror over the mantle were cracked, a few panes of glass were missing from the windows, and the air was stale.
Finally there was the sound of approaching footsteps, and an exhausted-looking Bruce Wayne entered the room, leading a child by the hand. The boy looked to be about nine or ten years old and a probable victim of Gotham's criminal freaks: he was marked by green hair, pale skin, and a mouth that was filled with too-sharp teeth and kept twitching up into a sickeningly familiar smile. His eyes were covered with what looked like a domino mask, though the edges had been unevenly cut away.
"I had to bring him," Bruce muttered. "Separation anxiety."
"Bruce," Jim whispered.
"crow"
"John, this is Jim Gordon," Bruce said wearily. "Can you say hello?"
"cooo~" The boy was heading straight for Jim without pausing.
Bruce tugged to keep the child from getting too close. "Don't touch without permission, John."
"crow"
That sound. The mask. The body type and the associations... "Dear God, Bruce, don't tell me this is one of the things that attacked Arkham!"
"Jim." There wasn't a trace of 'Bruce Wayne' in that word - it was filled with warning from a darker persona.
"Just- Explain to me, just explain to me what's going on, for God's sake!"
Forbidden from inspecting the interesting thing he had been introduced to, John looked around at the rest of the room and tugged restlessly until Bruce released him. The boy wandered about, crowing curiously.
"Stay in the room, John." Bruce turned back to Jim. "I...found three of them. They're children, Jim, damaged. He... They need help. I had to take them. I won't let them hurt anyone."
There was a long silence, broken only by an occasional "crow" in the background.
"...Bruce," Jim said carefully, "it's wonderful that you have such a compassionate heart for children." He lifted his hand warningly. "But there are already far too many kids out on the streets at night, and I need you to promise me-"
"Jim."
"Bruce."
"..."
"..."
"crow"
"...Jim, it's never been planned." He blinked as if a guilty thought had just occurred to him, then cleared his throat and continued. "I have no intention of sending these new ones out at night. In fact, I myself am going to be spending more time at home for the foreseeable future-"
There was a crash. The two men whipped toward the sound as John started shrieking, backing away from the broken vase with his arms flapping as if he was trying to take flight. "CROW! CROW! CROW! CROW!"
"John-"
"CROW CROW CROW CROW CROW!"
Bruce tried not to look threatening as he approached, but John had backed into a corner with his arms wrapped around himself. The boy slid down to huddle on the floor, his face stretched back into a full Joker's grin. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"
"John. John, it's all right. It was an accident, you're not in trouble."
The boy rocked back and forth. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
"Johnny."
The child dove at him and clung to his legs, shaking. "crow! crow! crow...!"
"It's all right. Come here."
"crow! crow! crow!"
With some difficulty, since the boy wouldn't straighten up from a crouch, Bruce led him back to his chair. He sat down and was about to take John's hands, but the boy burst into a flurry of movement, diving at Bruce and then ducking behind the chair and then trying to bite him and then clawing at himself. Bruce finally managed to grab him and hold him still. John huddled at his feet for a minute, shaking, then clutched at Bruce's legs and looked up at him.
"crow"
"Everything is fine. Calm down."
"Heeheeheeheeheeeeeeeeee."
When Bruce ran a hand through his hair, the boy leaned against him. A few minutes of scalp massaging later, John was slumped half in Bruce's lap, silent and relaxed, with the hem of his father's shirt clasped in his hand.
Bruce exhaled and looked back up at his guest, fingers still working gently through John's hair. "As I was saying. They're a handful, so I'm staying home for a while to take care of them."
"Hm." Jim had watched the whole thing without a word, weighing his thoughts against each other. "What about that little apocalypse we just had? Can you tell me anything about that?"
Bruce sighed again, but dutifully gave his old friend the best explanation he could without breaking their long-held pretense.
TBC