The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 14.2 (rough draft 2)
Dick and Tim were sitting close together in the living room, talking quietly but intently. They looked up when their two youngest brothers burst into the room and ran to them.
"Dd'kk! Dd'kk!"
"Ttimmmy!"
"You okay?" Tim asked, looking concerned but also like he wasn't quite sure what to do with his sudden arm- and lapful of cuddly child.
"Listen!" Jack insisted, then burst into rapid signed babble that basically boiled down to, "He do seatbelts to us and we REALLY REALLY DON'T LIKE IT!"
"Ice cream!" Peter was telling Dick in the meantime. "Ice cream GOOD seatbelts BAD, why two always?! Ice cream ONLY, no seatbelts!"
Bruce wanted very much to leave, but John wouldn't move. Even when he tried gently pushing the child toward his brothers, John simply stood there, miserably curled in on himself like he was freezing cold. "John, go sit with Dick for a while. Dick is right over there." John struck Bruce's hand away, but otherwise didn't move.
Tim looked up indignantly. "You do this to them every day? When they've had a history of being abusively restrained?"
"And what's your suggestion for teaching them how to tolerate non-abusive safety restraints?"
At that, Tim looked less certain. "I... You could at least let us help. They're so afraid of you-"
"No. They've always been afraid of me; I will not give them reason to fear you as well."
John abruptly seized Bruce's shirt and yanked so hard that Bruce was actually forced down. "Iii Sssowwyy," John snarled, making a determined effort for each word, "Iii Mmmaay Yyyoouu Cccai."
"I- ...The song? You want me to...?"
"Iii...Sssoowwy-" John gave up and let go so he could sign. "Give me! Sing! Give me!"
Bruce resisted the impulse to glance at their little audience. "All right... Come to my office and I'll-"
John jerked out of his light grasp as if it was hot iron. "CROW!" His arms gestured viciously. "SING!"
It would have to be right here and now, then. Bruce deliberately narrowed his focus so that the world contained nothing but John. He knelt; John seized tight fistfuls of his shirt. "...[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..."
John pushed his face against Bruce's shoulder and cried, though not loudly enough to drown out the song.
Bruce's arms automatically came around him, trying to both shield him and not make him feel trapped. "[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..."
John gradually relaxed, though his shaking grew worse. Bruce moved a little so he could lean back against the nearest chair and sit more comfortably, careful not to break the song. He had to sing it twice to give John enough time to calm down, and even then, the boy still clung to him.
By that time, Jack was perched on the back of the armchair; Peter was lurking somewhere behind it. Dick was watching with his chin resting on his crossed arms. Tim had leaned his head against the back of the couch with his eyes closed like he was sleeping, though Bruce could tell he wasn't.
He needed something else to sing. John wasn't crying or shaking like a leaf anymore, but little tremors were still going through his body, and he obviously wasn't ready to get up yet. Anything would do, really. "[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..."
The tune was so soothing, even Bruce felt himself relaxing. A few stanzas in, John gave a deep exhale and went limp, looking slightly at peace now as he lay cradled in his father's arms.
"[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..."
Halfway through, Jack surprised them all by joining in, vocalizing along with the gentle melody exactly like a bird. Peter's voice rose up almost immediately, both strains of birdsong accompanying Bruce's voice.
"[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..."
By the last stanza, John, though still silent, was softly tapping his fingertips against Bruce's shirt along with the beat.
"...[*censored because FFN is stupid*]."
There was a long silence, unbroken by Jack's signed "I like it."
Dick smiled. His voice was so quiet that it didn't seem jarring. "He's totally going to make you sing to him every day now."
"I figured as much," Bruce grumbled, but his expression was soft as he gazed down at his son. John looked back up at him, apprehension in his eyes like he thought he was about to be figuratively dumped back in the cold. "John," Bruce said. Both he and his older sons were all in pretty serious need of a training session by now, which left only one person to babysit. "How about you and your brothers stay with Alfred for a while?"
"Gggamm'ppa," John whispered.
"Ggam'ppa, Ggam'ppa!" Peter and Jack chorused eagerly.
Alfred was ironing in the laundry room, the sound of an opera on the music player just loud enough to be heard above the rumbling of the washing machine. Most of the family came bustling up, Dick with an arm around his clingy little alternate self, Bruce carrying a couple of bean bag chairs, Tim bringing a bag of books and toys, and the youngest children cavorting around them like puppies.
"Alfred...I really hate to ask, but we're going to be busy for the next couple of hours or so..."
Alfred smiled, set the iron securely on its stand, and reached out to clasp hands and ruffle hair when Peter and Jack bounded over to him. John followed more slowly, but instead of scampering away again like the other two did, he clung to Alfred's coat. "I'm afraid I shall have to multitask at least until the laundry's done, but if you think they will stay out of mischief, I'll be happy to keep an eye on them."
Bruce fixed the boys with a stern look. "Will you be good for Alfred, or are you going to make me come after you?"
"Good boys," Jack signed.
"Good, Grandpa," Peter agreed.
Duke came in, carrying the fringed yellow jacket that had gotten discarded in the chaos of the morning. "Found it!"
"That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life," Tim stated. "Did you give him that, Dick?"
"Nope! He found it all on his own," Dick said proudly.
"Boys," Bruce scolded the youngest two, "do not jump on the bean bag chairs." He made a mental note to order an outdoor trampoline and dig up the small exercise trampolines he knew were somewhere in the house. There were trampolines downstairs as well, but the children couldn't be in the cave while the Bats were training. "They are for sitting or lounging, not jumping."
He gave them a lecture on how dangerous the hot iron was (they immediately looked solemn and kept their distance, especially after a demonstration of water droplets fizzling on the metal surface), got them settled with some books, and he and Dick together managed to coax John off of Alfred and tuck him between his brothers. Bruce gave him his stuffed elephant to hug, and Dick covered him with the hideous jacket as if it was a blanket.
"Be good for Alfred, and we'll play one last game when I get back," Dick said. He kissed his baby birds goodbye and left with the others.
The children were quiet for a while, John recovering from the seatbelt ordeal as his brothers paged through their books, babbling a mix of bird language and English when they remembered the quotes that matched the pictures. They also practiced some genuine reading - both of them had been able to read before their abductions, and the academic lessons were slowly reviving the parts of their brains that had been scrambled by drugs and trauma.
There was, however, no way that a single activity could hold their interest for two whole hours, when there were so many other things to think about and do and examine.
"Master Jack, come back here," Alfred called. "I'm afraid I can't have you wandering off on your own."
"I will go play," [warble] twittered testingly to himself.
"Master will come hurt you tie you," [chirp-chirp] reminded him dully.
"Master GONE! Daddy now!"
"Bat, 'Daddy,' yes/no, doesn't matter," [caw] pointed out. "Be good for Grandpa."
[warble] remembered how comforting Grandpa had been whenever Master hurt him. It would be wrong to make Grandpa unhappy when he always tried so hard to make their little flock feel better. "Okay." He galloped over to Grandpa and signed, "Bored!"
"Perhaps you can help me fold these towels," Alfred suggested, then added dryly, "There are quite a lot of them today."
Jack (and, soon, Peter) was willing to help, and John eventually came over as well. Their hands were clumsy, but Alfred was patient, and they eventually got all the towels folded. Alfred left them to be taken down to the cave later, and piled more clean, folded laundry on a cart, giving a small stack to each child to carry so the boys would feel useful.
He wheeled the cart through the mansion with the children trotting after him like ducklings. They stopped in one room after another, putting the clothing and towels away in their proper places, until the cart was empty. Alfred, upon seeing the note, also made the boys help him fix Bruce's bed.
"Finished!"
"Quite so. I believe we have all earned some tea and biscuits."
Only Peter liked his tea reasonably sweetened; the other two made faces and complained until Alfred had mixed an ungodly amount of honey and sugar into their cups. Then the four of them spent an enjoyable half hour on Alfred's private patio, sipping their tea (or slurping it, in John's and Jack's cases) and talking.
"Bird! Red bird!"
"Yes. That is a cardinal."
"Kkaddo?"
Alfred taught them how to pronounce it correctly.
"Ccaarrdduh, nnnall!"
"Very good."
Jack took photographs and all three children played with the tea set and the pot of flowers on the table, and with the buttons on Alfred's coat and with each other. Alfred watched them jumping around in a hopscotch-like game and thought proudly to himself that he could not have asked for better additions to his growing collection of grandchildren.
o.o.o.o.o
The session had been intentionally grueling. Combined with the lack of sleep and his usual tendency to crash during quieter periods between crises, Bruce was exhausted. He left the children to play with Dick and Damian so he could rest in the library. He had a pile of books and a small plate of snacks and his work briefcase to occupy him, but he found himself just lying on one of the couches, doing and thinking of nothing in particular.
There was the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall. "There's Daddy!"
"Daddy!" Jack came trotting up and climbed right on top of Bruce.
"Oof."
"Jack wanted to play with you," Dick explained.
"I can't play," Bruce mumbled.
"Aw. Daddy's tired, Jackie."
"Ppoorr Ddaddy," Jack said, patting his face and making Dick laugh.
"Let's let him sleep a little, we'll go back and join Damian and the others."
"I bbe ggood," Jack promised. "Quiet."
"All right. Well, Bruce, feel free to kick him out if you want, you know where to find us." Dick set a bag on the coffee table and left.
Bruce randomly remembered the annoying incident in the morning when no one would tell him why he'd been startled awake. He dragged his tablet close and started going through the manor's security recordings until he found what he was looking for. There was no audio, as a compromise between the family's security and privacy, but none of the Bats ever bothered to hide their lip movements from the cameras unless they were specifically trying to be secretive.
"It's because he feels safe."
'Dammit, Dick!' Bruce thought.
"OH MY GOD IT'S BANE!"
Bruce stabbed the Stop button just as the Justice League burst laughter, and thrust the tablet away with a displeased sigh.
"Daddy mmad?" Jack wondered.
"My friends are not very nice," Bruce told him, "and my eldest child is a traitor."
"Ttaytto," Jack mimicked amiably.
Bruce closed his eyes, and a minute passed in silence.
"Daaaaddy?"
"Either stay and be quiet or go away to be noisy."
"Bboo'kk?"
"I can't read right now. You read it to me if you want it."
Jack pulled Dr. Seuss's Hop on Pop out of the bag, currently one of his favorite books because it was easier than usual to read by himself. "[*censored because FFN is stupid*]." He turned the page. "[*censored because FFN is stupid*]..." After a few pages, he realized that the man was asleep. "Daddy?"
Daddy didn't answer. He was quiet, eyes closed, breathing gently. He looked very, very tired. "Quiet," [warble] whispered in bird language. He put the book down and laid his cheek against Daddy's chest. His heart beat big and quiet and comforting. "Hmmm."
He was right. He was right, and [chirp-chirp] was wrong. Daddy was not Master. Daddy was safe, he trusted [warble], he loved the flock and fed them and protected them and taught them good things. If [warble] curled up here where it was warm and safe and quiet, nothing bad would happen, because Daddy was here. Daddy didn't do bad things. Maybe annoying things or scary seatbelt things, but no bad things.
So [warble] fell asleep, because it was okay and it was safe.
TBC
A/N: For those who can't read the prequel, all three boys used to dream about Alfred during their captivity. (I originally meant it to be Earth -22 Alfred's ghost doing what little he can for the poor kids being held captive in his house, but that bothered me too much for religious reasons [in reality, "ghosts" are actually demons pretending to be dead humans for the purpose of deceiving living humans]. I now lean toward the idea that it was Prime Earth Alfred somehow connecting to the birds through their dreams.)