The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 16 (rough draft 2)
They all slept until late the next morning, and Bruce was the first one awake, for once. Peter was the one on 'guard duty,' lounging on a window seat as he talked softly to his favorite stuffed animal, Dog. He glanced over at Bruce when the man stirred, but didn't seem alarmed.
Dick was still dead to the world, sprawled across the children's bed; Jack was drooling in his sleep. John, also asleep, was curled up in the blanket Bruce had given him, and was hugging the pillow like it was a teddy bear. Bruce resisted the impulse to stroke his hair.
He went instead to the bathroom to shower, then checked the bedroom afterward to find that Dick had not moved; Peter was now pressed against the window, imitating the sounds of the actual birds outside; and the other children were stirring. Bruce left the bathroom door open and finished readying himself for the day.
By the time he came out, the Robins were a little more lively, twittering to each other as they played some sort of game with the bedding, rolling through it or holding it up in tent-like shapes. They froze when they noticed Bruce watching them. "Seatbelts?"
Bruce hesitated. They picked up on it at once, Jack cranking up the puppy eyes and the other two going tense. "I..."
"Ppweese, Daddy?" Jack quavered in such a small, pitch-perfect, heartrending tone that it had to be on purpose.
'Little brat.' Bruce could still feel himself falling for it, despite being aware of the manipulation. Dick and even Jason used to do the same thing when they were young; Tim had occasionally done it unintentionally. 'They did have a rough night...' He sighed. "Tomorrow. Not today."
All three boys crowed in delight, startling Dick awake. Peter leaped victoriously and John launched into a back handspring, then looked so shocked at what he'd just done that he stumbled on the landing and fell back into an almost-as-shocked Dick's arms. "Johnnyyyyy! Stretch first next time, but that was awesome!"
"I jump," John signed faintly.
"Gah, you should have done that two days ago! We are totally having a gymnastics fest next time I come!"
Bruce led the children to their room to get them dressed, and Dick parted from them in the hall, saying dryly, "Packing my bags, Take 2."
Alfred, as usual on days when most of the family slept late, had gone out to run errands and left their breakfast on food warmers in the dining room. Tim and Damian were both there, sitting in thankfully companionable silence, Tim nursing a cup of coffee as he scrolled through the news and Damian taking bites of granola in between practicing ASL (which he hurriedly stopped when Bruce and the children came in).
"Are you going to work today, Tim?" Bruce asked, noting the young man's business suit.
"Just for a couple of hours. I'm going to get back to a five- or six-day work week starting tomorrow."
It was an improvement over the seven-day schedule Tim had been doing between the apocalypse and his meltdown, so Bruce grunted in mild approval as he got the children settled. "Oh - Tim, before I forget again, what do you want to do this evening?"
Tim frowned in confusion. "What?"
"For your- I meant it to be yesterday, but there was the alien invasion, and..." Bruce put a morsel of food on Peter's plate, trying to juggle feeding the birds with talking to Tim. Jack, as he'd started doing more openly in the past several days when he realized he wasn't going to be punished for it, was happily taking photos of almost every piece of food that he received. "Anyway, it got pushed back to tonight instead. What would you like me to do with you?"
"You mean Dad Night? I thought that was for Damian and Duke."
Damian looked up, his eyes narrowed.
"It's for all my children who still live at home. Not counting the little ones, since they see me all day."
"Technically, I wasn't living at ho- At the manor until your Batpocalypse destroyed my apartment. I just haven't had time to set up a new place."
"Never refer to anything about that incident as 'mine' again," Bruce grumbled, then paused. "Except the Robins. They're mine. But that's it. And since you haven't yet established a new residence, you are currently living in the manor, which means you get a...designated night."
Tim shook his head, as a complicated series of emotions crossed Damian's face. "I'll pass. I'm really busy, I probably wouldn't have had time for it even if you'd given me better warning."
"Then I'll help you with your work."
"Bruce, no. It'll take longer if I have to catch you up on everything. Seriously, I am 100% fine not getting a Dad Night."
Bruce looked at him closely. "You're sure?"
"Yes," Tim said, avoiding eye contact for a split second before falling back on Bat training to be convincing. If not for that split second, even Bruce would have thought him completely sincere. "Give my night to Damian or something, he'll eat it up."
"Hnn."
Damian spoke up, sounding indignant. "While I agree that I am entitled to more of Father's time, I object to your condescending tone, Drake."
"What else is new, Damian," Tim sighed.
By the tail end of the children's meal, Tim had already left for work and Damian for training. Dick came striding in, leaving his backpack and suitcase by the entryway so he could grab some food.
"At least sit down to eat," Bruce said.
"I meant to leave yesterday morning! I've got soooo much stuff piling up at home, I'm itching to get back."
The children stared in wide-eyed, unhappy confusion as Dick grabbed a wad of napkins to wrap some food in. "D'kk? D'kk?"
"I love you forever and ever, baby birds," Dick said, pausing to kiss them. "I'll come back in maybe a week or so, okay?"
John grabbed a handful of his shirt. "Sss'tttayy."
"You leave?! You leave?! NO!" Jack signed. Peter looked outraged.
"Kiddos, I don't actually live here, you know. I have work to do in Blüdhaven, and you've got lots of interesting things to keep you busy here with Bruce."
"[big chirp-chirp] is leaving," Peter said in bird language. "Leaving us AGAIN."
"No," John twittered coldly. "Never."
Dick's eyes widened when he realized they were shifting into something close to Monsterbird Mode. "Oh...crap."
He knew he didn't have time to run. He could tell from their body language that Jack was going to get behind him and make him fall when Peter went for his legs and John went for the rest of him. He tried to flip out of the way before they could strike, but they were so fast - one of them managed to catch at his foot in midair, knocking him off-balance; then another one, John, probably, anticipated his recovery move and snagged him again, sending him crashing to the floor.
They swarmed him, digging their fingers painfully into him like claws, and dragged him to the closest defensible corner. He barely had time to struggle; within five seconds of their first pounce, he was pinned by the full weight of a nine-year-old kneeling on his chest and an eight-year-old sitting on his stomach and a six-year-old lying on his legs.
"Get off of him!"
Dazed and winded, Dick shifted his head and found Bruce storming toward them. The children screamed in fear and fury, poising to fight, arching their backs in a way that would have flared their wings if they had any. If Bruce responded badly in the heat of the moment, his already fragile relationship with the older birds would shatter. John and Peter might never trust him again. "No, Bruce!" That was all Dick could say without desperate gasping. Bruce froze, visibly fighting for self-control.
Dick pulled at John's legs until the boy abruptly shifted; his knees now pinned Dick's arms to his sides instead of cutting off his breath. Dick gratefully gulped in air.
"Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine," John hissed.
"Are you hurt?" Bruce asked tersely.
"No, I'm fine, give me a minute." Dick took another breath. "Johnny. Dick, look at me."
John's eyes slid toward his brothers, who had fixed Bruce with feral glares, then grudgingly dropped to Dick.
"Johnny, remember how we just talked about not hurting family?"
The boy seized Dick's head and gripped tightly, making him gasp in pain. John's eyes were as blue as Dick's, but there was an unnatural ring of gold around the pupils. Dick had seen it before, all three of the children had it, but the Robin's stare when he was in this mood was frighteningly mesmerizing. "Yyyoouu hhhuhtt usss!" He forced out more words that Dick managed to decipher as Big birds do not hurt little birds, but you leave us HURT! John gasped with the effort of so much speaking and raised his head to crow furiously.
"Johnny...I can't stay with you forever."
John's expression turned cold. He sat back, his weight forcing air out of Dick's lungs again, and signed, "We eat you."
"That will...make...Alfred sad," Dick wheezed.
"Dick-" Bruce started.
"Hold on!"
"No! John, Peter, Jack, if you don't let him go right now, I'm going to- I'll take your phone away, Jack; Peter, no sweets; John, I'll...take your yellow jacket away." Jack and Peter looked displeased but not in the least inclined to back down, and John was completely unmoved.
"You stay?" John demanded of Dick.
"You gonna let me go?"
"You stand up, you stay?"
It would do more harm than good to lie. "...I know you don't like it, and I'm sorry, but I'm going back to Blüdhaven, Johnny." Then he cried out when John slammed a hand to his face, nails resting perilously close to his eye.
"Our thing our thing keep it safe," [chirp-chirp] twittered.
"Hurting him scaring him," [warble] ventured in a tiny voice.
[chirp-chirp] moved his hands to press against their captive's chest, gauging his heartbeat. It was faster than usual, but not too much; no tears; the tense muscles and unhappy expression were mostly in protest rather than fear. "Not scared."
[warble] laid his head down in relief and hugged [big chirp-chirp]'s legs tighter.
"Okay," Dick said, squirming in an attempt to find a position where he could breathe more easily, "let's talk about this, like people. John, let me up, I just want to talk."
[chirp-chirp] knew that [big chirp-chirp] would not flee when he was released. He also knew that [big chirp-chirp] would walk away eventually, would think that the "Sorry"s and "I love you"s were enough to keep the flock still until he left and never came back. He didn't want them. He said he loved them, but he loved other flocks more, the traitor wanted to abandon not-his babies to die without him.
[chirp-chirp] scratched a shallow mark into the older bird's neck. "Ours, you bad thing."
Bruce had enough. He strode forward to physically pull the children away, but they screeched and reared up threateningly, causing Dick even more pain. Peter swiped viciously in warning.
"Bruce, no! No, you're making it worse!"
Bruce loomed over them, hands flexing as he fought with himself about whether to seize them or not. John and Peter looked like they'd tear his eyes out if he tried. "Get off," he growled in his Batman voice.
Jack flinched and Peter hissed; John simply glared back. "Hello Bad Laugh Man."
"DON'T CALL ME THAT."
The younger two cringed down, but even intimidated, they only dug their claws into Dick all the harder. John didn't move, but his knowing 'There you are at last' expression was the worst of all.
"I'm not him. I'm trying to help Dick because you are HURTING HIM."
John signed resentfully, "You hurt us, he hurt us. We hurt you. I understand."
"No, that is not how this family works. No one here is a prisoner. You are not prisoners, and Dick is not a prisoner - if he wants to leave this house, he's allowed to."
An incredulous expression broke across John's face, then fragile hope. Both Bruce and Dick were too quick to think it was almost over, because the next thing John signed made their hearts fall. "We leave? [big chirp-chirp] take us away we leave bad house?! AWAY?!"
"I- It's...it's Dick who can leave. He's an adult. You three are still children, you can't..."
Bruce threw a helpless glance at Dick, who looked stricken as he whispered, "I couldn't raise three kids on my own. Not outside the manor, not anytime soon."
John's face smoothed out. Of course the miracle was fake, it always was. At least Master had admitted it quickly this time. "Him belong to us. He stay love us babies be nice to us; he leave hate us, Bad Laugh Man hurt me [caw] [warble] hide."
[warble] was crying softly because everything was wrong wrong wrong, [chirp-chirp] still thought Daddy was Master after all, Daddy wasn't acting like Daddy and maybe [warble] had been wrong maybe [chirp-chirp] was right maybe Daddy would Smile and Laugh and tie him and hurt him, or [chirp-chirp] would protect him and he would run and try to find a place to hide where he wouldn't be able to hear [chirp-chirp]'s screams...
"Breathe, Jackie," Dick tried to say. "Deep breaths, it's all right, no one's going to hurt you, you're safe..."
'Fight,' [caw] was thinking, readying himself, finding that Place inside him to fit into, 'fight, fight,' because when hiding wasn't an option, letting the rage eat him so he couldn't feel pain was next best. His brothers were hurting, [big chirp-chirp] was leaving, Bat was killing Daddy and coming back coming out coming closer, 'fight fight fight fight...!'
"Sssshh."
Bruce looked up. He'd never before been so very relieved to see his daughter.
TBC
A/N: I headcanon that Damian learned basic ASL as part of his Bat training but isn't completely fluent yet.
I wrote Dick's departure scene a LONG time ago, back when the family was still living in the cave right after the Batpocalypse. At one point, I decided to combine it with Cassandra's return to the mansion and her official debut as a major character; I had no idea it would take this long to finally reach this scene! I thought I could just do some tweaking and slot it in, but so freaking much has changed since then and there's been so much character development, I had to completely re-write most of the scene, particularly the second half. There was a lot of stuff I liked in the original draft, though, so I'm including here as an outtake.
Original draft (though it's been tweaked a bit for technical issues) of Dick's second departure:
Dick's eyes widened. "Oh...crap."
He knew he didn't have time to run. He could tell from their body language that Jack was going to get behind him and make him fall when Peter went for his legs and John went for the rest of him. He tried to flip out of the way before they could strike, but they were so fast - one of them managed to catch at his foot in midair, knocking him off-balance; then another one, John, probably, anticipated his recovery move and snagged him again, sending him crashing to the floor.
They swarmed him instantly, digging their fingers painfully into him like claws, and dragged him to the closest defensible corner. He barely had time to struggle; within five seconds of their first pounce, he was pinned by the full weight of a nine-year-old kneeling on his chest and an eight-year-old sitting on his stomach and a six-year-old lying on his legs.
Dazed and winded, Dick shifted his head and found Bruce storming toward them with a tranquilizer gun. Dick could see it in his mind's eye - the children would be forced into unconsciousness, they'd wake up bound and screaming, all progress would be lost, and they might never trust Bruce again. "No, Bruce!" That was all he could say without desperate gasping. Bruce froze, the gun still trained on John, but didn't fire.
Dick pulled at John's legs until the boy abruptly shifted; his knees now pinned Dick's arms to his sides instead of cutting off his breath. Dick had barely drawn a grateful gulp of air into his lungs when the child seized his head. Fingers dug painfully into his scalp as John leaned close, mouth slightly open in a silent snarl. His eyes were as blue as Dick's, though there was an unnatural ring of gold around the pupils. Dick had seen it before, all three of the children had it, but the Robin's stare was frighteningly mesmerizing when Dick was unable to look at anything else.
Dick swallowed, fighting the urge to close his own eyes. "Bruce," he called as calmly as he could, "stand down."
"Are you hurt?" Bruce asked tersely.
"No." Dick's voice softened. "You're not going to hurt me, Johnny."
The boy made a bird sound that only his two brothers recognized as "Mine." He let go of Dick's face, scratched a shallow mark on the side of his neck, then bent low again, this time glaring watchfully out into the cave.
Bruce was seething. The dark Robins now seemed as feral as they had been when he'd first taken hold of their chains - the way they crouched possessively over Dick made them look like jackals about to feed on their kill, or perhaps dragons prepared to guard their treasure to the death. It filled him with rage to see his son trapped at the mercy of these monsters.
Dick must have seen the look on his face. "I'm okay, Bruce. I'm fine. It's okay. Don't escal-"
Bruce strode forward to physically pull the Robins off of his son, but they screeched and reared up threateningly. Jack tightened his grip on their captive; John clapped a hand down on Dick's head, nails perilously close to his eye, and screamed a murderous warning; Peter swiped viciously at Bruce.
The man paused, breathing hard.
"Bruce, stop, stop, calm down, violence will make it worse, I'm fine, they won't hurt me if you keep your distance...!"
Bruce took a very grudging step back. The Robins slowly settled down, staring at him intently, careful to keep their hold on Dick, all looking as fierce as coiled tigers. None of them had made any attempt at human communication since the moment their feral state had been triggered.
"Someone bring me food," Bruce said through clenched teeth.
No bribe had any effect on the boys. Neither John nor Jack showed any reaction to an offered cookie; Peter blinked slowly...then sank his teeth into his own arm and tore, drawing blood.
"Peter, no!" Dick shouted.
The boy lowered his dripping arm and gazed right past Bruce, now showing no more interest in the food than his brothers did.
Music didn't work. Interesting devices and gadgets didn't work. Coaxing didn't work. No matter what incentive was tried, the Robins now seemed immune to it. They kept watch over their captive, ignored everyone else unless they got close enough to be perceived as a threat, and occasionally twittered to each other in their own bird-like language.
"[warble] sleep. [caw] watch. [chirp-chirp] guard."
"[warble] sleep."
"[caw] watch."
"Yes." John briefly turned his blue-gold gaze to his treasure. "Mine."
"Ours," Peter reminded him.
"Mine," Jack added, more to himself than to his brothers.
"Johnny," Dick pleaded, "please talk to me. I know you don't want me to leave, but you won't be lonely. There are so many..."
John shifted until his palm rested over [big chirp-chirp]'s heart. "I'm frightened," it said, which was too bad, but "only a little bit," so it could be tolerated. The steady beat was soothing. So was [big chirp-chirp]'s voice, flowing on and on with so many words words words. It was easier when [chirp-chirp] didn't try to pull words out of that sound-river to understand. [big chirp-chirp] was staying, [big chirp-chirp] would not abandon him - that was enough. "This Master is weak," he remarked to his brothers. "Not like That Master."
[caw] had always refused to call their captor 'Master' in bird language. "This Bat will not take Treasure from us."
"Long watch," [chirp-chirp] said sympathetically. "Hungry."
"No. Wait. Hungry now; hungry will be, NO."
"Good forager, you my brave sneaky flockmate," [chirp-chirp] said affectionately.
Dick watched them, half-curious at the exchange he could not understand a word of, half-horrified that they didn't feel safe or motivated to even try to use English anymore. "Please, Johnny. Peter. I'll stay for a while, I won't leave yet, but please talk to me. Just say one word. Please, just one, even if it's only my name."
John gazed at him impassively. Peter made a dark bird chuckle. "No more."
"Easier than That Master's do-this-now," [chirp-chirp] mused. "No hurting for not doing."
"No more."
[chirp-chirp] shifted his shoulder blades in assent like a bird ruffling its wings, checked to make sure that [warble] was resting while he had the chance, and resumed his vigil.
o.o.o.o.o
About an hour later, Dick was a little hoarse from talking. "...and I followed him from the rooftops to make sure he went home..." He'd been hoping that talking about all the good he did in Blüdhaven might eventually convince the birds to let him go, and John was looking a little uneasy, but Peter seemed completely unperturbed.
"...so he finally did get parents who cared about him after all. He was a good kid who'd just found himself in a tough spot for a while." He was uncomfortable, too. They let him shift, adjusting their positions to account for his and dragging him back into place whenever he strayed too far from their defended corner, but even though he'd just been lying here for an hour, it was still tiring being pinned down by the boys' weight and stressed by the lack of freedom. It reminded him of the times he'd been kidnapped as a child - except this time, instead of making escape plans and waiting for Batman, he was mostly just having to endure, and Bruce was right there on the other side of the room but unable to rescue him.
Jack woke up, and after a brief, twittered exchange, he came to sit on Dick's chest, freeing John to move back and fall asleep on their prisoner's legs.
"Oh my God...you three can keep this up indefinitely," Dick realized in a horrified, amused, helpless whisper. "What are you going to do when you get hungry? What are you going to do when I get hungry? I'm very hungry. I'll die if you don't feed me."
Peter shifted carefully so that he could press the side of his head against Dick's stomach without releasing him. Then he straightened up and twittered; he and Jack settled again dismissively.
"You can tell I'm not that hungry yet?!"