The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Chapter 4.2 (rough draft 2)

Since the Robins had been readied for bed earlier than they had the previous night but couldn't be left alone yet, they slept in a puppy pile on a couch as the rest of the family wound down from the day. None of the boys woke when their sleeping partners were finally ready to retire for the night and picked them up. Bruce carried Jack to his room and hoped that this night would pass more calmly than the last one had.

No such luck. He woke up a couple of hours later to a scritching noise, and found the little boy determinedly trying to scratch his way through the window with a pair of scissors from Bruce's desk. If he'd known to smash instead of scratch, he would have been gone by now.

"Jack!"

The child jumped as if he'd been struck and dropped the scissors, jerked away, dove to grab the scissors again, and fled to hide under Bruce's desk, his mouth open in an ugly, birdlike screech.

'Dammit,' Bruce thought, seething at his darkest other self. It wasn't as noticeable in the daytime, when there were other people around and the children had many things to occupy their attention, but it was clear that all three of them were still terrified of him, not just the ever-defensive Peter or the most extensively abused John.

There was no point in going straight for the boy and making him feel even more threatened, so instead, Bruce went to his bookshelf. He pulled out all the picture books, the ones he'd most loved having his parents read to him as a child, and he sat down with them in an easy chair not too close to the desk where Jack hid. He opened the one on top and started to read. "[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..."

Every so often, he unobtrusively glanced up to check on Jack. The boy, unnaturally still, seemed fixated on him. When Bruce was halfway through the second book, he sensed Jack peering over his elbow. He showed no sign that he noticed the boy's presence except to place a finger on the page and start running it under the text as he read, hoping that Jack might eventually make a connection between the spoken words and the printed ones.

By the fifth book, Jack didn't seem to mind anymore when he brushed against Bruce's arm. He put his finger on the page to slide it along the text as well. At first, whenever Bruce moved to correct his pace, he pulled his hand away before Bruce could touch him, but by the seventh book, he was letting Bruce guide his finger.

"[*censored because FFN is stupid*]"

When Bruce reached the end of the stack and started to read the first book again, Jack pulled all the books away and dragged them under the desk to look at. Bruce adjusted the desk lamp so that it would give Jack enough light, then retreated to place an online order. Every careless scuff made him wince, and he wanted to provide the child with his own books so that the copies Martha and Thomas Wayne had touched could be returned safely to the shelves.

In the meantime, Jack's well-being was more important, so Bruce let him look at the books until he fell asleep. Bruce returned the boy to bed and thought that was the end of it...until he woke up a little later to the scritching sound again. Since the scissors had been confiscated, Jack was now using a letter opener. This time, the child cried when he fled away from Bruce to his hiding place.

"Jack, I'm not going to hurt you," Bruce insisted.

"[chirp-chirp]! [caw]! [big chirp-chirp]!"

"I don't understand when you talk like that, Jack. You have to use words I know."

"Boy safe help scared," Jack signed. "You."

"...I'm sorry, I...I still don't understand. You don't have to be scared, Jack."

"[CHIRP-CHIRP]! [CAW]!" He screwed up his face and concentrated. "Ddddiicckkkk!"

"You want Dick?"

"YYSSSS," Jack insisted, signing an emphatic accompaniment.

"It's John's turn to sleep with Dick tonight. You have to sleep here, but I promise I won't hurt you. You're safe."

"NO. That You hurt me laughing laughing laughing hurt me! Hurt me! SCARED I want Dd'ckkk! D'kkk! D'kkk!"

"...Come on." Bruce stood up and held out his hand. Jack hissed and made no move to take it. Bruce went to the door and opened it, and Jack crept after him into the hall at a cautious distance.

Dick was asleep in his own room. John crouched beside him on the bed, crooning mournfully. As soon as Bruce entered, John screeched and dragged frantically at Dick, who was startled awake; Jack darted into the room and flung himself at John; by the time things had settled, Dick was wearily rubbing at a new scratch as the children huddled together behind him, and Bruce was silently cursing whatever dark pit of hell the Batman Who Laughs had crawled up from. "I can't do this without you, Dick."

"Okay, no." Dick swung his legs off the bed, stood up, and snapped briskly at the children. "You two. Up."

They obeyed apprehensively. Bruce himself felt like a scolded grade school student as he and the Robins followed Dick out of the room and down the hall. Dick signed for them to wait, then carefully opened the door of the guest room where Kori was sleeping. He disappeared inside for a few minutes, and came out with Peter following him. Peter hissed at Bruce and stepped between his brothers, who were already holding onto each other and shifted to grab him, too.

"Let's go, kiddos," Dick said, leading the way back to Bruce's room. The Robins balked, but Dick herded them all inside and shut the door. The children looked frightened, but once inside, Dick ignored them. With Bruce awkwardly following his lead, he climbed into bed and burrowed into the blankets and snuggled against Bruce, indicating with speech, signs, and body language that he felt happy and safe with his father. "Mmmnn, so sleepy~ Bruce, your bed is so much warmer and softer than mine."

Which wasn't true, since Bruce preferred firm mattresses, but that wasn't the point. "It's...the one for the master bedroom, so..." He had no idea what to say and felt uncomfortable and awkward cuddling with an adult man in bed, but he knew this performance was for the children, so he tried to play along as best he could.

"Nice and warm, so sleepy... G'night, Bruce. I love you."

"Mm hm."

After he and Dick had been fake-asleep for a minute, the Robins crept under the desk together, twittered at each other, then quieted. Peter and Jack fell asleep almost at once; John remained awake, his pose watchful as if he had no intention of sleeping. He didn't protest when Dick got up again and brought over a pile of blankets to tuck around the children. "Good," John signed.

Dick kissed the top of his head and went to join Bruce, who was hovering by the bed and wondering if he should send over some pillows. "Bruce," Dick murmured, "maybe it was a mistake to separate them. I'm gonna go back to bed; see how they do with you now that they're all together."

"You're leaving?!"

Dick grinned. "You'll be fine, Dad. Call me if they freak out, but I don't think they will. Look at John, he's used to this." The boy, though watchful, didn't seem tense. "You'll be fine," Dick said again, and left.

John watched him go, and made that low, mournful noise again when the door shut, but he didn't move or tense up. His gazed moved to Bruce, who backed away. Bruce lay down on the bed, and after a long time, he fell asleep.

He woke up again frequently during the night, and every time, a glance showed him that the Robins were still huddled together in the nest of blankets under the desk...except it was always a different child who was awake. First it was Peter, crouched protectively over his brothers as they slept; then Jack, looking at Harold and the Purple Crayon while the other two boys slumbered beside him; then John again, softly grooming his sleeping brothers' hair.

'They take turns keeping watch, just like soldiers in hostile territory.' They were used to this, and it made Bruce grieve and rage all over again, but at least they were quiet and staying put instead of panicking and trying to escape. 'Someday. I won't give up, and someday, you three will understand that you are safe in this house, and I will never, ever let anybody hurt you again.'

o.o.o.o.o

After breakfast, Kori and Raven bid the family farewell, since they wanted to help in Central City next. Damian escorted them out like a gentleman, then came back to accompany Dick to the garage. Dick first made his own round of goodbyes, reassuring Bruce one last time that he'd be fine and happily accepting a hearty snack for the road from Alfred. Then he turned to his littlest brothers, who were all transfixed by the cat video Duke was showing them on his tablet. "Mwah, mwah, mwah, love you all lots, see you soon~" Jack took no notice of him; Peter impatiently pushed him away; John distractedly hummed as he nuzzled Dick's cheek, never quite taking his eyes away from the tablet. Dick clapped a hand on Duke's shoulder. "Counting on you, big brother."

"Thanks for the list," Duke said, referencing the suggestions for Robin-entertaining activities that Dick had given him earlier.

"No problem. Timmy, you awake yet?"

"No," Tim mumbled into his coffee, but patted his brother's arm when Dick wrapped it around his shoulders and squeezed. Dick backed away and waved a peace sign at the room in general before heading out with a fidgety Damian, who preferred to see him off in private.

This time, it was Bruce who accompanied Duke, the Robins, and the dog outside, carrying a bag of toys and snacks. The children ran and laughed and crowed, calling to each other whenever one strayed too far from the others. As soon as they reached the first clearing, the children swarmed the bag of toys, and it dawned on Bruce that, with Batman business on hiatus and WE business on the backburner, this was the first time in his entire life that he was going to play with his children without the pressure of any preoccupations, time limits, or outside stressors. He had no idea what to do.

Fortunately, Duke seemed to. "You want the truck again, Peter?"

"Uhn!" Peter affirmed, making grabby hands.

Duke, having picked up the routine by now, held the toy out of reach. "Remember, you have to ask."

Peter looked angry, but he knew the drill. "TOHHHWU'CK PPEEZ!"

"Awesome."

Peter ran off with his prize, and now it was John's turn. "Ball! Please give me ball!"

Duke glanced at Bruce for confirmation. "He asked for the ball, right?"

"Yes, you can give it to him."

John crowed in delight and instantly hurled the ball as high as he could, then galloped off to retrieve it and throw it again.

Jack, looking frustrated, was still hunting through the bag. He dumped everything out on the grass, but was not satisfied. "I want!"

"What do you want, Jack?"

In answer, Jack spoke a long string of gibberish that didn't sound like either English or the Robins' bird language. What it did sound like was Bruce's tone and cadence when he read children's stories out loud.

"Oh - book? Do you want books?"

"Bb'kkk," Jack said experimentally, and imitated the sign Bruce showed him.

"Wait, Jack. I'll get you some books, but you have to wait." Bruce called Alfred, who eventually arrived in a golf cart with a bag full of picture books, different than the treasured collection from Bruce's room.

Jack's eyes lit up. "Bb'kkk?!"

"Yes, Jack, these are books."

"BOOK," Jack signed with relish, then grabbed as many as he could fit into his arms and took them away a short distance to inspect. Peter came over, looking interested, and there was a squabble. Books started to get damaged and Bruce and Duke tried to intervene, but it was John who resolved the conflict.

He picked up the book Peter had most wanted; Peter shrieked and writhed in Bruce's arms; John flaunted the book, making such a show of stealing it that Bruce, responding to a gut feeling, released Peter. The boy charged at his brother, raging, and John immediately dropped the book and fled. As Peter crooned in concern and petted his treasure, John circled around to steal one from Jack's pile. Jack cried out in anguished outrage, and again, John made a show of cooing over his new 'prize.' "Duke, let him go." Jack raced at John, who, again, cut his losses. By the time John had finished 'stealing' all the books, turning his brothers' rage from each other to him, Peter and Jack were so glad to have any books at all that they were no longer concerned about which specific ones the other had.

Bruce was speechless with awe at the little boy's mediation skills. Dick was still Dick, no matter what world he was from or how much damage he had suffered. "John, come here. You earned this. Good job."

John devoured the little candy bar with much delighted gobbling and smacking, then nestled in Bruce's arms. "Good work, chum," Bruce murmured again, gently cleaning chocolate off the boy's hands and mouth.

o.o.o.o.o

It took about an hour for the children to start missing their favorite big brother. "Where?" John asked.

"Where is what?"

"[big chirp-chirp]"

"Use human words, John."

The boy looked frustrated. "I want."

Bruce was starting to understand that this sort of thing meant there was a vocabulary gap. "Let's ask Jack, maybe he knows how to tell me what you want."

After a multilingual exchange, Jack turned to Bruce and said, "Please give me [big chirp-chirp]. Ddii'ckk, ppees."

Bruce blinked. "Er..."

"It's a name," Duke suddenly realized. "That 'whoop chirp chirp' sound, that's what they call Dick."

"D'kk!"

"Kkkkk," John experimented. "D...Dddi'ckk."

Bruce tried to push down the feeling of dread that was rising. "Boys, listen. Dick is not here." He didn't realize that he'd added in body language, "And I feel apprehensive about telling you that," which the Robins interpreted to mean, "I am the reason he's gone."

They went very still, their gazes fixed on him intently. Peter, as if sensing that something was wrong, rushed to join them.

"Danger?! Danger?!" he asked urgently in bird language.

"[big chirp-chirp] gone. This Master killed him."

Peter lunged at Bruce like a savage wolf. Bruce was able to safely immobilize him, but seeing Peter being restrained triggered John's protective instincts, and all the violence triggered Jack. A minute later, Bruce, covered with bleeding scratches, was subduing all three terrified, raging children, trying not to hurt them and hating that there was no way to protect himself without forcing them still, which was probably bringing up traumatic memories. Titus's frightened barking in the background made it hard to think. Bruce looked up, silently pleading for help from the only other person around, but Duke looked horrified and helpless.

"Wh- What do I do?"

"I don't...know." All he could think to do was wait it out. "Play a video game? Maybe the music will catch their attention." 'Music.' "Or that song they like so much."

"I never liked that song to begin with, much less after hearing it fifty times..." Still, Duke started "Poker Face" on his phone.

Jack was the first one to calm down. When Bruce cautiously released him, the boy squirmed away and went to huddle against Duke. When he let John go, the boy immediately started yanking hard on the arm holding Peter.

"John, I can't let him go until I know he won't hurt me. Peter, no hurt. No hurt."

"[caw]," John said urgently in bird language, "I give me, I give me, you go! Fly away!"

Peter went still and whimpered. Then he went limp.

Bruce cautiously let him go, and was alarmed when Peter bolted, flying right past Duke and Jack. Bruce started to run after him, but John literally tripped him up. "Duke, throw the ball!" he shouted from where he'd stumbled.

To his relief, the colorful, bouncing toy caught Peter's attention before he reached the trees, and he paused. Duke snatched up the bag of toys and hurried with Jack to catch up with him. Once Bruce was satisfied that the Robins weren't going to run off and get lost in the woods, he turned his attention to John, who was clinging to him. "John, what are you doing?"

"Me," he signed. "I give to you."

"Give what?"

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha."

Bruce's back was creeping again. "...John."

John pushed him onto his back and lay on him, staring intently into his eyes. Bruce, at a loss, brought up his arms to hug him. The boy hid his face in Bruce's chest and went limp in a strange, deliberate way.

'Something's wrong. I shouldn't touch him when he gets like this.' Bruce gently pushed him back and got to his feet and moved a few steps away. John followed him warily. "Look." He took out his phone and found a cat video like the one Duke had played for the boys earlier. John giggled half-heartedly, occasionally glancing at Bruce out of the corner of his eye. Bruce then got the idea to try a video of a trapeze artist at work, which John found riveting. One of the suggested videos at the end was actually of Dick himself, during a guest performance he had done for Haly's a few months ago, and Bruce selected it.

"[big chirp-chirp]!" Then in bird language, "He flies! He flies! Beautiful!" John eagerly watched the whole thing...and then he started to cry. "[big chirp-chirp]... Ddi'ckk! Ddi'ckk!" In ASL, "Please give me please give me sad sad angry please!"

"John. Listen to me. Dick will come back. Right now he is gone, but next week he will come back. Do you understand?"

"...Ddi'ckk come here?"

"Not now, but in a few days, yes. Wait. Dick will come if you wait."

John scrabbled his fingers violently against his chest. Bruce understood: "My heart hurts, it hurts."

"John," Bruce said softly, and lifted his hands to mime that it felt like his own heart had been dug out his chest, too.

At last, John's expression softened as he realized, "You are sad."

"Yes. Yes, I miss Dick, too, and I'm sad he's gone."

"Gone, sad."

They sat together for a long time and watched videos of Dick, first online and then from Bruce's personal collection, until the hurt began to ease a little.

TBC