The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Chapter 9.2 (rough draft 2)

John's spirits seemed to have revived by the end of lunch, especially when he and his brothers got to play outside afterward. Duke came out to join them about an hour before dinner.

Bruce had promised to give his older boys his undivided attention once a week, but he wanted to give them more than that whenever possible. Since he would be running rooftops with Damian that night and had been working with the Robins all day, it seemed fair - or, at least, fairer - that Duke should have the pre-dinner hour. "You up for some sparring?"

"Who's going to watch the kids?"

"I'll call Alfred."

"He's probably about to start cooking."

"I'll tell him to just warm up some leftovers later. Unless you'd rather not...?"

"No, no, leftovers are cool," Duke said quickly.

Of course it couldn't be that simple. Alfred came out with bundles of sparring gear for Bruce and Duke to change into, then sat on the terrace to keep an eye on the children, who continued to play on the lawn just past the steps. Bruce thought nothing of moving a safe distance away, taking up a stance, and facing down his latest protégé.

Fists and feet started flying. Duke had done a good job improving his existing repertoire during self-training, and Bruce intended to teach him a couple of new moves this session. Just a few more tests to make first...Duke's breathing was better, too, but needed some improvement; they'd also have to work on-

For a second, Bruce didn't understand what was happening. It was so sudden, the noises so animalistic, he would have known if there'd been such large predators on the estate grounds- Not animals, it was the Robins, tearing at Duke with nails and fangs, trying to kill him, bouncing right back from each of his defensive strikes as if they felt no pain. Duke was swearing loudly and bleeding a bit, surely they wouldn't be able to rip right through his protective suit-?!

"BAR!" Bruce screamed.

The Robins slammed to a halt like short-circuited robots. Jack, in mid-leap, tumbled to the ground and lay still where he'd fallen. Peter's face was blank and his teeth bared; John swayed a little, then looked at Bruce with a glassy-eyed, expectant expression, more like a hunting dog waiting for orders than a human child.

"Down! Stay down!" Bruce shouted as he ran to Duke, and John obediently crouched low.

Duke was still swearing, softly now, as he took stock of himself and his now battered protective gear. Bruce dropped to his knees beside him. "How bad are you hurt?"

"Not bad..." Duke winced as he wiped blood from his jaw. "Scratched me a little, but I'm okay."

"Alfred!" Alfred was already hurrying over. Bruce helped Duke to his feet. "Fix him up, and make whatever he wants for dinner."

"Yes, sir! Master Duke, are you all right?!"

"I'll be fine, Alfred."

Bruce anxiously watched them make their way into the house, then turned to the children. The youngest two seemed to have come back to themselves - Jack was hiding behind John, looking upset and guilty; Peter was growling uncomfortably and digging his fingers into the leash scars on his neck. John was still waiting for orders.

"...Boys."

"crow"

"Sorry! Sorry!" Jack signed, then out loud, "Sssorry! Dddu'kke, ssorry, bbad Jjja'ckk..."

"crow"

"You're angry," Peter signed, looking furious himself. "Hurt Dddu'kke, bad you, Bad Laugh Man! [crow]! You hate them, we eat them!"

"No, no, no, Peter, that's not what happened. We were practicing, it was only practice!"

"crow"

"John, stop that! Stop! Use human words!"

John stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"John, Peter, Jack, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used violence in front of you. I do not want you to hurt people, especially family. Do not hurt family. Duke and I were practicing. We were pl-" Maybe it wasn't a good idea to equate violence with play. "We weren't hurting each other for real. I'm so sorry it looked that way to you. We won't ever do it again." 'Where you can see.'

"I'm angry!"

"Yes, I know, I'm so sorry, Peter. Jack, it's all right, Duke is not too hurt, he will forgive you." Jack whimpered and started to cry. Bruce picked him up and hugged him. "Sshh, Jack, it's all right. I'll take you to Duke and you'll see, I'm sure he's not angry. Peter, it's all right, no one hates anyone here, no one wants to hurt anyone here. ...John?"

"..."

He crouched and gently touched John's face. "Johnny. Look at me, chum." The boy was technically already looking at him, but it was with 'monsterbird' eyes, not his son's. "Johnny, come back. It's Bruce. You're safe. No hurting here. Johnny?"

John blinked slowly.

"Please say something with your hands, or your mouth. Human words. Just one word, Johnny."

Jack called softly in bird language, "[big chirp-chirp] likes little chicks better than monsters."

"Dickie, come back to me, please. Human words."

John finally dragged his hands through the air. "Blood."

"No blood. No more blood."

"Meat."

"NO."

John's expression did not change, but a tear slipped down his cheek. Then his face crumpled and he broke into sobs. He wailed, trying to speak but too upset to pronounce anything intelligibly. Bruce, still holding Jack with one arm, embraced John with the other. "Hurt him! We hurt him!"

"Duke is all right. We will go see him now, and you can apologize. I'm sure he's not angry."

He let them pick flowers from one of the gardens and bring them to Duke, who was being patched up by Alfred in the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen. "Aw. Thanks, guys."

"SORRY!" Peter insisted.

"Dddu'kke, wwe sssorry, bbad bboy, me [chirp-chirp] [caw]."

"Sorry you blood no I don't like it bad sorry," John signed as he cried.

"Really, guys, it's cool," Duke said awkwardly, getting the gist of it. "We're good. Thanks for the, uh, flowers."

"You are angry at us bad boys?"

"Duke is not angry," Bruce said.

"I'm not mad. Here, come give me a hug. Don't mess with the bandages, or bite me."

John immediately clung to him, hug-hogging so that the younger boys didn't have room to do much more than pat Duke's arms and coo at him.

"Oof... Oooookay, thanks, John, that's enough now...you can let go now...please get off, man..."

Bruce decided to finish up the rest of the training session in the crime lab rather than attempting combat again. When he and Duke came back upstairs, they found the rest of the family in the kitchen. Tim, still in his business suit, was at the table with his head buried in his arms, possibly sleeping. The others were helping Alfred, Damian turning away from the stove to bossily direct the little ones (none of whom took any notice of him). John was scooping heaps of salad onto the plates, Peter was dropping ice cubes one at a time into a row of wooden tumblers, and Jack was painstakingly folding napkins. All three children abandoned their tasks to flock around Duke the instant he entered the room.

"Ddu'kke!"

"Happy now? Angry now?"

"Sorry, I love you, gentle!"

"No worries, I'm fine."

Even so, once the meal had been served, John climbed into Duke's lap to hug him again and stayed there for a long time, refusing to eat except when Duke literally placed food in his mouth. Peter and Jack chose the chairs on either side of him and pushed them even closer, and kept putting many of the morsels they earned onto Duke's plate.

"Seriously, stop giving me food! I have food, I don't want yours!"

"crow"

"Do not eat family. Sorry."

"Look, you gave me flowers, right? That made up for it, so now it's done, over, finished."

"What happened today?" Tim asked in bemusement.

"We found some more triggers," Bruce said wearily. "Tim, Damian, new rule: no sparring, horseplaying, or intense arguing in front of the Robins. They do not react well."

Duke snorted. Then he got up, pushed the younger boys' chairs a more standard distance away from his, and guided John around the table to Tim. "Someone else's turn to get the octopus hug treatment."

"Why me?" Tim protested.

"John, Tim is sad. Make him happy."

"I am not-!" John was already cuddling into him, and Tim sighed. "Whatever. I'm too tired." He resumed eating, now having to work around the boy in his lap.

Damian pointed his fork as Duke walked back around the table. "Don't you dare."

"I won't, but you're gonna have to step up sometime, Damian."

Duke paused to stoop down and stare Peter straight in the eye. "Hey. You're a good boy. Peter's a good boy." Peter gently touched the bandage on Duke's jaw. "It's fine. It's finished. You're sorry, I forgive you, finished. Okay? Now eat your food, and keep your grubby little hands off my plate, got it?"

"Fffinnish."

"Finished." Duke stepped over to Jack to repeat the process. "Jack is a good boy."

"I'm sorry, you're not angry, I'm a good boy, finished."

Duke glanced at Bruce, who nodded. "He understands."

"Good. Keep your hands off my plate, little man."

"Ddu'kke food, me food."

"There's enough food for both of us. Now chill out and eat."

"Cchhou't."

"'Chill out.'"

"Cchh'lll ou'tt." Jack asked Bruce for his next morsel, looking happier.

Duke exhaled deeply as he dropped back into his chair. "Having little brothers is hard."

Bruce's phone chimed. He checked it, then remotely opened the gate to admit the visitor's car. A few minutes later, Alfred was escorting the babysitter into the dining room. "Aaaahhhh, they're so cute!"

All three Robins hurried to hide behind Bruce's chair, peering out in alarm at the exuberant newcomer.

"Nice job, Brown," Damian snorted. "At least you can add 'Frightening small children' to your short list of talents."

"Shut up, Damian," she said amiably. "Hey, babe!"

"Hi, Steph," Tim called back.

Bruce got up (prompting the kids to seek new refuge behind Tim) and went to greet Stephanie. "Thank you for coming. Help yourself to some dinner."

"Oh, I've already eaten, but thanks! Might grab a snack out of your fridge later, though."

"You're welcome to anything in the kitchen. How's the new hotel?"

"WAY better than the last one, thanks for the upgrade! Though we might not be there long - Mom started looking at apartments today, she doesn't want to come back to Gotham for at least another six months."

"I can't say I blame her... Come on, let me introduce you." He led her over to where Tim was eating with a long-suffering look on his face.

"Hi~ babies!" Stephanie squealed. "Oooohhh, it's an itty-bitty Dickie and an itty-bitty Jay and an itty-bitty Timmyyyy!"

"Gentle?" John wondered.

"I know she's loud, but she's gentle," Bruce said. He gave Stephanie a hard look. "They're skittish, so don't startle them."

"Awww, c'mere, baby~!" Though she hadn't lowered her voice much, her movements were soft and inviting as she bent, held out her arms, and slowly pulled a shy, uncertain, but smiling John into them. He giggled when she planted three rapid kisses on his head. "Mwah, mwah, mwah, gonna eat you up." He jerked back in surprise.

"Stephanie," Bruce said quickly, "before I found them, they experienced severe abuse and obviously have a lot of triggers and baggage as a result. Restraints, leashes, cages, eating human beings, Joker, violence, even Batman and Robin, are all topics to avoid. Please do not traumatize or distress them."

Stephanie's eyes were wide with shock. She hugged John again and rocked him back and forth, which he seemed to like. "Baaabies...my baaabies, Mama Steph's not gonna let anything bad happen to you, 'kay?"

"I forgot to add parents. That's on the Don't Mention list, too."

"Gah! I hope you punched all the bastard's teeth out and kicked him in the balls."

"It...was taken care of. And watch your language around them." Peter had now ventured close enough to wonderingly touch Stephanie's bright yellow hair, and Jack was investigating the unnecessarily complicated fastenings on her shoes. "I've got other instructions, too, and you can ask Alfred or the boys for help if you run into trouble." Bruce frowned. "Unless you're going out, too, Tim?"

"...Just standby and tech support tonight, I think," Tim mumbled.

Stephanie lightly smacked the back of his head. "Go to bed, dork! You're practically falling asleep on your plate."

Tim smiled a little. "No violence in front of the monsterbirds." Stephanie stuck out her tongue at him, and Peter tried to imitate her.

Bruce spent a long time giving Stephanie instructions and warnings, and elaborating on previous ones when new things occurred to him. At last, Damian burst out, "Brown can handle it, Father! Let's go, it's getting late!"

Bruce shifted from foot to foot, feeling...anxious. He couldn't remember the last time he had experienced that emotion when not under the influence of drugs. "Just...pay attention to their cues, Stephanie. Try to keep them happy. When I get back, I can-"

"I'M GOING DOWNSTAIRS NOW, FATHER, AND I EXPECT YOU TO ACCOMPANY ME."

Stephanie saluted. "You can count on me, Bruce! I won't let you down!"

Bruce nodded, reluctantly turned away, and followed Damian to the grandfather clock.

In the cave, Damian scampered to the uniform storage, alight with excitement. "May I still be Batman tonight, Father? There can be two Batmen, Bat-one and Bat-two. I'll even let you be Bat-one, if you like."

Bruce hesitated. It seemed almost unthinkable to step out onto the rooftops in anything other than the cowl, but after Barbatos... The idea of bowing under the shadow of the Bat again made him feel a little ill. "...You can be Batman tonight, Damian."

"YES!" Damian pounced at his black uniform.

Bruce took much longer to get ready than his son did. Damian did an extra check of his equipment, chatted to Bat-cow for a few minutes, and then tried to work on the computer to pass time, but he couldn't concentrate. So he spun in the big chair, around and around and around, until his father FINALLY came out into the main cave. Damian leaped to his feet and started bounding over - then stopped and stared. "...Father?"

Bruce hadn't liked how he felt in full black, and an idea had occurred to him as he was looking at alternate garb. In the end, he had chosen to dress in a red tunic, green combat boots laced up over his pants, a domino mask, and a cloak with a gold inner lining. "Batman needs a Robin, doesn't he?"

Damian actually shrieked in delight and flung his arms around his father. Bruce hugged him tightly, enjoying having a happy son in his arms for once. Damian pulled back and pointed dramatically. "To the Batmobile, Robin!"

"I'm still driving."

"What?! But I can, and I'm Batman!"

TBC

A/N: I hate the way almost everyone at DC writes Stephanie, so I'm not even trying to make her IC. (If you can call cooperating with people who apparently hate this character "IC.") I'm giving her free rein over her own characterization and just writing her however the heck she wants.