The Birds Who Smile

by Raberba girl

"Dark Nights: Metal" AU where Bruce adopts three of the Robins who once belonged to the Batman Who Laughs.

13. Chapter 7 - Unwanted Guests

The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Chapter 7 (rough draft 2)

A/N: I have been told that the way I write the seatbelt training in this fic could be potentially triggering for people who have had negative experiences with ABA therapy. I did not base the seatbelt training on any sort of therapy, I only wrote what felt natural. (Ftr, "ABA therapy" is a very broad term. Some versions of ABA are abusive and/or have a misguided end goal, but it is possible to design a form of ABA that's useful and non-harmful.) I do not support abusive versions of ABA and it had no influence on this fic either way (I didn't even know what ABA was when I started writing TBWS), but I guess this is a trigger warning for people who don't want to read about that kind of experience in general.

o.o.o

The next morning, everyone but sleep-deprived Tim and surly Damian seemed to be in a good mood. Bruce held his breath and raised the bar for food-earning again, and was relieved when none of the children protested much. John and Peter now had to ask for specific food items, and Jack was required to enunciate better.

"Please give me [~*~*~]."

Bruce hid a fond smile at the garbled sign. "I didn't understand you; try again. Do you want eggs," he signed even more slowly this time, "bacon, cereal, or something else?"

"...Please give me *bba-con*." Bruce could tell now what the boy wanted, but it was one of those signs the Robins had trouble making. He gently guided John's fingers until the child had practiced enough to sign it properly. "Please give me - bacon!"

"Good boy. Very good." Bruce set a slice of tofu bacon on the boy's plate and turned to his brother. "What would you like, Peter?"

"Ppo'ttato, plllease," Peter said, pointing urgently at the hash browns.

"Good job. Here are some potatoes. Jack?"

"Please give me toast, tto'te plllease."

"Toassst."

"...Tttohsss. Ttuh."

"Good, but say it again. Ttooasst."

"Ttoh, toh, tttoas-tuh. Ttt. Ttoas't."

"Excellent. Here you go."

After breakfast, when Tim had gone to work and Damian to bed, Bruce sent Duke to study ("You really do need to work on schoolwork, though." "I know, I know, I just meant that I don't want a GED to be my only ambition in life."), then put his hands on his hips and surveyed the little ones. They looked back at him apprehensively. "Is it better to get the unpleasant business out of the way right now, and potentially ruin the rest of your day?" he wondered out loud. "Or is it better to lull you until your defenses are down and then plunge you into misery?"

They fidgeted uneasily.

"I suppose you can decide for yourselves. Boys, which one first: games or seatbelts?"

"crow!"

"I hate you!"

"Nno! Bad man!"

"Do you want games now and seatbelts later, or seatbelts now and games later?"

"NNO SSSEAT'BBET!"

"I don't want it!"

John's signing was the worst. "Scared now, hurt now, laugh now-" Then he burst into bird language, "Tie us and hurt us and make us laugh, the blood and the feathers, bad meat in my mouth and dizzy-not-sleeping, it hurts, he's coming, he's coming now...!"

The other two children tried to flee, but Bruce managed to catch them. He needed a whole arm for Peter; Jack was small enough to tuck under his other arm and still have a hand to spare for the weeping John. He started dragging them all toward the garage, trying to ignore their desperate fangs sinking into him. He'd already been taking the precaution of wearing light armor under his clothes, but their teeth were very sharp and would still leave bruises.

Alfred was drawn by the commotion. Bruce couldn't even hear himself over the children's screams, but his butler could read lips. "Open the back door of the closest car, then lock us in."

For this first, most traumatic session, he didn't even attempt to touch the seatbelts. Once he and the children were inside the car, he let go of them all and let them vent however they needed to as he set a timer on his phone for one minute. He set the device beside him so the boys could see it.

John spent the whole time sobbing his heart out. The other two instantly crammed themselves into corners as far away from Bruce as they could get. When they realized that he wasn't going to try to grab them again, Peter started attacking him; Bruce calmly defended himself, but said nothing and made no attempt to retaliate. Jack prowled around the edges, prying at various seams. When there were only a few seconds left, Jack went still and started watching the countdown.

The timer went off. "All right. We're finished for today; good job. Let's see what Alfred brought for your reward."

The family had made it a point from the start to avoid gratuitously giving the children sugary snacks, but Alfred had correctly surmised that this situation warranted an exception. The boys burst out of the car and, when they had finally calmed down, crouched at the butler's feet with their ice cream bars. John and Jack clutched at Alfred's legs as they ate theirs, John still in tears; Peter crunched his treat so violently that he bit the stick in half and nearly swallowed it before Bruce managed to get it away from him. "Ice cream sandwiches next time, I think," he said wearily, "the miniature kind." Alfred nodded.

The children needed time to recover. John cuddled with Titus on the couch; Peter kept trying to break things until Bruce fetched a practice dummy from the training room for him to assault to his heart's content. Jack slammed letters onto a magnetized alphabet board, matching all 26 sets as if his sanity depended on it. As they got quieter, Bruce started playing a simple ping pong game on the TV. Gradually, first Peter and then Jack and, finally, John crept closer, fascinated. At first they watched in intent silence, but eventually started to react to the scores and near misses. "Maybe you don't hate me anymore, hm?"

Alfred entered the room. "Master Bruce, you have some visitors."

Bruce looked up, and the Robins crowed as the A.I. finally managed to score its first point on him. "Who?"

"I assume I'll need to fetch the hats and sunglasses again."

Bruce gritted his teeth, then quickly set up a new two-person game and handed the controllers to Peter and Jack. The boys didn't seem to know what to do with them, but Bruce didn't have time to teach them how to play, and Jack was already experimentally pressing buttons.

"If I didn't get an alert on my phone..." He checked the gate app, and sure enough, the visitors weren't anyone important enough to have activated an alert. Bethany Tate, Charlotte Meacham, and Maryjane Howard were all air-headed socialites; Kristine Graciano was, essentially, a gossip columnist. Apparently she'd decided to try accessing Wayne Manor by going undercover.

Bruce sighed deeply. "Go ahead and let them in." He was going to have to deal with both parties eventually, he might as well get it over with now. "Let's get the boys covered up before our guests reach the door."

They were settled around the living room when the women entered in a cloud of perfume and girlish tittering. "Bruciiiie!" Charlotte immediately shrieked.

Bruce put on his playboy smile and got up to greet them. "Lottie Meacham! Bethany, M.J.! It's been ages!" After the obligatory air-kissing and pleasantries, Bruce turned to the fourth woman in the group. "And who's your friend?"

"Katie Granston," she introduced herself with a bright smile, putting out a hand to shake. At first glance, she looked like just another one of the group, but to those who knew what to look for, everything from her hairstyle to her shoes indicated that she was out of place among the other genuine rich girls. Bruce was rather surprised the ladies hadn't seen right through her and turned up their noses.

"Oh, Bruce, you naughty boy!" Bethany said gleefully. "Katie swore she was an old friend of yours! We've been dying to ask the details of your old romance!"

There it was. They knew she'd lied, and had been eager to watch Bruce toss her out on her rump.

Instead, he widened his smile. If he didn't give her what she wanted now, she or someone like her would just keep trying until they got in again. "Katie Granston, you say? No! It can't be you - why, you're twice as beautiful as I remember."

"You flatterer," she laughed without missing a beat. "Really, though, it was just a summer fling," she told the other women. "But you did leave an impression, Brucie dear, and I still think of you from time to time. Thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing after everything that's happened."

"Oh, yes, isn't it simply dreadful!" the others agreed, also without missing a beat.

"Would you ladies like to sit down?" Bruce courteously showed them to seats as Alfred began serving snacks and drinks. The boys had taken refuge behind Bruce's chair, and were peering cautiously out at the strangers. Titus had planted himself in front of them and was watching the adults alertly.

"Oh, Bruce, weren't you lucky, escaping all that damage! Daddy's so upset at how much work there still is to be done on our mansion here; Mama and Darla and I have had to go live in our New York suite, can you imagine! It is such an inconvenience, yet here you are, cozy in your own home!"

"I actually had to get a lot of repairwork done myself. They only recently finished."

"Oh, my, you can't even tell!"

"I wish I could stay as close as New York," Maryjane put in. "I flew all the way from Milan to come see how all our friends in Gotham have fared!"

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Maryjane."

"How can you stand it, Bruce?! Your home is beautiful as always, but the city is in such a disgraceful state! It's like the Middle Ages!"

Bruce was a little distracted by John and Jack, who had started stealthily creeping behind the furniture to get closer to the women's silky skirts and shiny shoes.

"Father says we might not even come back to Gotham at all."

"I wish Daddy wouldn't bother rebuilding here. Things were dreadful enough already, and now they say that Batman's haunting the streets again."

Bruce's thoughts stuttered.

"I mean, really! After he nearly destroyed the world, he has the nerve to show his face again? Gotham doesn't need him! Grandmother says the city was a civilized place back when she was a girl, it didn't get hellish until he came on the scene."

"I- I'm sorry; they say Batman's back?" Bruce asked, trying to keep his tone casual. "You mean the actual man in the cape and cowl, or just some amateur in a ski mask and black coat?"

No one got the chance to answer, because Maryjane leaped out of her chair with a scream. Her pretty shoe was left behind in John's hands; delighted, he held it up to the light and cooed at it, pulling off his sunglasses to see better.

"Dear God!"

"These are my new foster children," Bruce said, getting up to rescue Maryjane's shoe and get John's glasses back on before Kristine could sneak any pictures of his domino-scarred face. "This is John, that's Jack, and Peter's over there with the dog. Johnny, give Miss Maryjane back her shoe, and I'll give you the light-up Koosh ball to play with instead."

Charlotte twitched her skirt away from Jack's reaching hands in alarm and hastily got up to join her friend. "Oh, my! Oh, my, Bruce, what dear little children!" she exclaimed, looking at the boys like they were rats.

Since the kids took no notice of the shrieking and dirty looks, Bruce didn't care about that. What he did care about was the plate of cake Kristine was lowering to the floor. "Oh, no, don't give them-"

Too late. John and Jack already had icing all over their hands and mouths; Peter was hissing and muttering "Nno no no no no no no" behind Bruce's chair.

Bruce glanced at Alfred, not having to say a word. 'They'll have to skip dessert tonight,' he thought, and Alfred nodded in silent agreement.

"How adorable!" Kristine was exclaiming, a little too eagerly. "Do tell me more about your new little ones, Brucie."

"Well, Katie, what do you want to know?"

She paused, probably wondering if he'd guessed she was using an alias.

"You always take in so many children, Bruce!" Bethany laughed. "You ought to get married soon, then you can have proper children of your own."

"'Proper' children, huh."

Charlotte, who was closest to Peter, started to reach for the boy in an obligatory sort of way. Titus growled softly. (Or maybe it was Peter who growled, it was hard to tell.)

"You might not want to do that, Lottie. Titus thinks they're his puppies and can get a little overprotective," Bruce exaggerated, wanting to keep careless hands away from his skittish sons.

"Oh my goodness, he's not going to bite me, is he?!"

'The dog, or the boy?' "I'm sure he'll be fine if you just give him some space."

"Hello, cutie," Kristine cooed, caressing John. He didn't like the way her fingers lingered over the scarred bridge of his nose and the bandage on his temple, and he pushed her away uncomfortably.

"She wants to eat me," he signed, forcing Bruce to stifle a snort of laughter.

Maryjane was not to be outdone by a commoner. "Hello, little one!" she said, reaching to pinch Jack's cheeks and manhandle his face. "You're so cute!"

He sank his teeth into her finger.

"AAAAAHHHHH!" There was pandemonium as all three women screamed. Bruce rushed to soothe them, Alfred glided up with a first aid kit, Kristine hid a smile, John covered his ears, and Jack licked the blood from his lips. "HE BIT ME! HEAVEN HELP ME! HE BIT ME, I'M BLEEDING, OH...OH...!"

Duke came into the room a minute later. "What's going on? Are the birds eating someone?"

"Oh, Bruce, why are there so many CHILDREN here?!"

"You dear man, you're running a veritable orphanage in this house, my God...!"

After Bruce had made a show of scolding the children (who just stared blankly back at him), sweet-talked the ladies until their feathers were less ruffled, bribed them with more of Alfred's goodies to forgive him, promised non-specific lunch dates that would likely never happen, and walked them to the door (they couldn't help bursting into animated gossip before even reaching their car), he went back to the living room, where the fourth visitor was trying to coax the boys closer with a cookie (they seemed to have wised up and were hesitant to approach).

"Well, Ms. Graciano, shall we get down to business?"

She paused, then straightened and smiled. "Looks like you're not as big a flake as people say you are, Mr. Wayne."

He shrugged. "Your name is on a lot of articles written about my family. I looked you up a long time ago." He held out his hand. "I'll give you a short interview and a couple of photos, but first I'll need to erase whatever you've collected on my boys so far."

She huffed and protested, but eventually handed over her phone, which he cleaned of the recordings she'd been making and then handed back. When he sat down, John crawled into his lap to be cuddled. Peter climbed up to perch on the back of his chair, and Jack made himself comfortable in Duke's lap.

"All right, well, first off: there are rumors that you've taken in the Robins involved in the last Arkham incident, and I see now that they're true. What's the story behind that?"

"I'd been providing support to the Justice League during the apocalypse, so I was in the region where the final battle went down. Three of the children were still alive after their captor's death, and I was deemed the best-equipped to care for them, so I brought them home with me."

"Their 'captor,'" she pounced. "One of the evil Batmen?"

"One of the threats from the dark multiverse, yes. Although they took advantage of certain imagery and branding, they are completely unaffiliated with the true Batman and his associates."

"Speaking of Batman, we hear that he's apparently active again. What can you tell us about that?"

John must have sensed his increased heart rate. "You are scared?"

Bruce gently squeezed the boy's hands to quiet him. "Although I sponsor Batman, Incorporated, I'm not its director. As far as I know, the idea of Batman resuming his work in Gotham City is an unfounded rumor."

"All right, well, getting back to the children, you said that not all of them survived, and there were four in the reports of the Arkham attack. Where is the other boy?"

"I don't know," Bruce lied. "The fourth child didn't make it, but I don't know what was done with the body."

"Do you at least know who he was? What about these children, are they going to be reunited with their families?"

"The children are not from this Earth, and the world they originated in no longer exists. We have determined that the boys' counterparts here have no families to return them to."

"Who are their counterparts?"

"That is confidential information, though I will say that their counterparts are significantly older and have self-sufficient lives of their own. My lawyers have been working to get the children established as legally existing persons."

"Are you planning to adopt them, Mr. Wayne?"

"...Yes."

"Oooh, you certainly love children, don't you! But you say their counterparts are adults? What if they want to adopt them?"

"That option is on the table. I have been in contact with the counterparts, and we are working together to resolve the children's legal status."

"Can't you give me anything more solid than that?"

"Not at this time, I'm afraid."

"All right, well, maybe I can get a quote from the children themselves!"

"I don't think-"

Kristine turned to Jack, who was closest. "Hello, sweetheart! How do you like living with Mr. Wayne?"

Jack, who had been learning how to play Tic Tac Toe from Duke, did not like being interrupted. "I want to bite her."

"Do not bite," Bruce signed back sternly.

"Ooohh, is that sign language?"

"Yes. They all have speech impairments, so we've been teaching them communication skills."

"My goodness, special needs on top of everything else! Is there a reason they're all bundled up?"

"Until their situation is more stable, I'm trying to protect them from unfair judgment by the press and the general public," Bruce said pointedly.

"I see. Are these boys more difficult to look after than the other children you've taken in?"

"They're a handful, but we've managed just fine so far."

"Do you think this will put a damper on your lifestyle?"

"I've... They've kept me busy, yes, but maybe it's time I started settling down more, anyway."

"You're a rather atypical parent, Mr. Wayne. Why is it that you adopt and foster so many children?"

He was so tired of that question, but at least he had learned the best way to answer it by now. "Well, you know what happened to my parents when I was a boy, Ms. Graciano. Their loss hit me deeply, and I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. The goal of making sure every child in Gotham has a good home has always been important to me, and with my resources, it would be selfish of me to close off my own home. Of course no one person can foster every displaced child in the city, but...I don't know how to explain it to someone who hasn't experienced herself, but with certain people, it just 'clicks.' It's like fate always meant for you to be a family, and all you had to do was find each other."

"How lovely. The children seem to feel the same." She gestured toward John, who was grooming Bruce's hair. "It's funny that these particular children would have such an impression on you, though. They did a lot of harm at Arkham - are you afraid they might turn violent again?"

"We're keeping an eye on them, but they haven't had any relapses."

"Do you have any words for the surviving victims and their families?"

"I am deeply sorry for the pain they've been going through. I've already reached out financially to those affected, and just as my thoughts and prayers are with them, I hope they can find it in their hearts to forgive these children who were themselves terribly victimized."

"So it's true that they were operating under the effects of Joker toxin?"

"Yes, they suffered long-term exposure to the toxin, though since their rescue, their condition has improved significantly."

"Were they abused in other ways?"

"That information is confidential."

"I can see scars on them."

"They were held captive, and were conditioned enough to participate in the Arkham attack. Obviously they were mistreated, but the specifics are confidential and they are entitled to privacy as we do our best to help them recover."

"She makes you angry," John observed. "We will kill her, you will be happy and feed us."

"NO. Do not hurt people. I will always feed you, whether I'm happy or angry. I do not kill, my family does not kill, you do not kill."

"What are you saying to each other?"

"Seems like the kids are getting hungry," Bruce said, nudging John aside and standing up. "Alfred, can you get them some lunch? Ms. Graciano, I'll walk you out."

"Lunch, lunch, lunch!" the children cheered in all three of their languages, flocking eagerly around Alfred.

"Oh, wait, I'm not finished yet!" Kristine protested. She swung around to Duke. "Duke Thomas, right? How do you like living with Mr. Wayne?"

"Uh...I like it fine. Alfred's food is great."

"What do you think of your new foster brothers?" she persisted as Bruce herded her out of the room.

"They're good kids. I'm gonna go eat now, okay?" He ambled off toward the kitchen.

"Wait, Mr. Wayne, please, can't I just take some quick candid shots, I won't keep them from eating-"

"I told you I would provide photos." Bruce and Alfred had both been taking copious pictures of the Robins, both as mementos and for documentation. It wasn't difficult to find a couple that were safe to publish, and after Bruce had sent them to Kristine's phone, he kindly but firmly shut the door on her. Then he went to go join his children for lunch.

TBC

A/N: Regarding seatbelt training again, I asked my youngest sister, who's working on a Master's degree in psychology. She said that I got the basic idea right, but that it would have been better for Bruce to go at an even slower pace than what I wrote, and that he should have taught the kids physical relaxation and then visualization techniques beforehand, only moving forward when they were ready. I'm improving it as best I can in these edits, and for the stuff I can't fix, I'm chalking it up to Bruce not being perfect (and having reasons to delay hiring a therapist).