The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 18.1 (rough draft 2)
It was almost like watching wild animals interact, their behavior rich with meaning but mostly unintelligible to an outsider. It took Bruce's breath away with admiration (and, if he was honest, slight envy) how quickly and easily Cassandra and the birds, the four of his children who had great difficulty communicating verbally, connected with and understood each other. Mere minutes after their first meeting, they behaved like they'd been siblings all their lives.
Bruce consciously shifted into the mindset that better allowed him to understand his daughter's use of body language, and then, after watching them for a while, he felt like a complete fool for not having realized sooner. To a great extent, the children knew this language, too. They weren't just subconsciously perceptive about adults' body language the way children were in general; the birds could read him in the same way Cassandra did, albeit likely with a strong bias due to their history. He didn't think he'd made any major mistakes in his ignorance, but he would have to be more careful and aware in the future.
Watching John dance, watching him scream his pain without words, was like having to listen to his agonized weeping all over again. Bruce didn't even want to think about the possibility that this child, this precious little boy whom he loved so much, might have been wounded too deeply to ever heal. 'One step at a time. One day at a time. There were moments when you thought Jason would never heal, either.'
"That was...something," Duke murmured as they watched Jack and Peter pull Cassandra away. "Feel like a bunch of stuff just went over my head, there."
"Me, too." He noticed his butler starting to clear the table. "Good morning, Alfred."
"Good afternoon, Master Bruce, Master Duke," Alfred replied with a slight smile.
Duke moved to help stack dirty plates and half-empty pans of food on Alfred's cart. Bruce, who had been raised to be waited on in his own home, only noticed this sort of thing when people like Jason or Duke initiated it, and felt guilt-tripped into helping as well even though it felt strange. In this instance, Alfred didn't seem to mind either way.
"By the way," Duke said, a little too casually, "I was thinking of going up to see Cyborg on the Watchtower tomorrow."
Which Bruce instantly translated as, You'd better be cool with it, and also please teach me how to use the Zeta-Tube. "All right," Bruce said slowly. The request made him uneasy, though he could think of no reason to forbid Duke's plan. Then he realized it was because he was worried about sending one of his mostly-untried kids off into the dangerous unknown. 'Duke is a seventeen-year-old young man with a year of training,' Bruce told himself firmly, 'there have been zero Zeta-Beam-related deaths or injuries in the history of the Justice League, and he's just going to keep Cyborg company for a few hours, not engage any enemies. He will be safe.' "I'll accompany you."
Duke stared at him.
"Just until you get there. You don't need a chaperone when you're actually on the Watchtower."
The wary look turned into a smile. "Does that mean you trust me?"
"I've always trusted you, Duke." 'It's supervillains, non-super villains, heroes' carelessness, and the whims of fate I don't trust.'
When Bruce came outside to check on the kids, he found John sitting on the grass, very still with his back to the house. Cassandra sat next to him, her presence offering silent comfort, but she was turned toward the younger two children, who appeared to be playing some sort of tag-like game and were using her as a 'base.' They were clearly enjoying themselves, shrieking and teasing each other as they ran around the yard.
Bruce sat down at one of the tables on the terrace and started catching up on emails. He felt...content, in some ways, sitting out in the good weather with his children playing nearby, but in other ways, he felt restless. Before the birds, at this time on a Sunday afternoon, he would usually be doing Bat research or training, perhaps checking in on one of his various teams. He hadn't been in the field in so long... Justice League missions were more of an unpleasant necessity than his preferred type of work, and his night of patrol with Damian already felt like ages ago. Playing tech support to his allies barely scratched the itch. Much as he loved his family and his home, he wanted to visit Gotham's streets again. Batman might have terrible baggage for him now, but he still longed for a mask and a cape.
'This has never been about what you want,' he told himself sternly. 'The children come first.' Ever since he'd made his vow, he had prioritized his vigilante mission, being unforgivably careless with each child who had entered his life and letting the curse of Batman get the better of him. Now...he needed to stop doing things the same way he'd always done them. Batman was no longer the only thing standing between Gotham and hellish anarchy; Batman had never been Gotham's lone protector. There were good, hardworking people of integrity in the GCPD, Jim Gordon foremost among them but by no means the only one. Gotham also had plenty of other vigilantes - Batman's network of partners and allies in the city seemed to grow larger every year.
Batman would always have work to do, but he wasn't desperately needed. Not by Gotham, not anymore. It was three young boys who now needed him most, and his primary responsibility was to them. If Bruce screwed up his second chance to get it right with these precious younger versions of Dick, Jason, and Tim, he didn't deserve to be their father. Also, whenever he dared to think about it, he got the uneasy feeling that if his parents could see him now, they would be much prouder of Bruce Wayne, the parent and generous philanthropist, than they would be of Batman, the stalker and trespasser who beat people up every night.
'You're retired. Get used to it,' he told himself firmly, wondering how many times he'd have to repeat it before the prospect stopped feeling so painfully impossible.
Jack was watching him. His brothers were now trying to imitate Cassandra's graceful dancing, but Jack was huddled on the terrace steps, looking at Bruce intently.
"Do you want something, Jack?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice quiet and hopefully inviting.
"...Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Bad Laugh Man?"
'Don't get angry,' Bruce reminded himself. The children could tell when he was angry, and they would always think it was them he was angry at. "The Man Who Laughs is dead. I am not him. He was a horrible person, and I'm glad he's dead. I love you very much and I want you to be safe, Jack."
The little boy crept closer. "Daddy yyell. Daddy mmad at me [chirp-chirp] [caw]."
"I was upset because you were hurting Dick, and I love him and want him to be safe, too. I was frustrated, because I couldn't stop you from hurting him. Even though I was upset and frustrated, I never wanted to hurt you or any of your brothers, Jack."
The child considered this.
"Jack. Do you get angry sometimes? Do you ever get frustrated?"
"Yyess."
"That's because you're a human being. All human beings have feelings like that from time to time. I'm a human being, too, so sometimes I get angry. I'm sorry I frightened you."
"Daddy ssorrry?"
"Yes, Jack, I am very sorry. I would never hurt you, even if I'm angry."
"Daddy mmad?"
"I am not angry anymore. I am happy that you and Dick and John and Peter are all safe. I love you all very much."
Jack crept toward him, hesitated, circled to the side, stepped closer, and hesitated again. Bruce was patient. It occurred to him to glance away, so that he wasn't staring at the boy in a way he might find intimidating.
At last, Jack lifted his hands and slowly curled his fingers into Bruce's shirt.
"Jack, may I hug you?"
"Ddohtt hhurrr't mme, Daddy."
"I will not," Bruce whispered, his heart breaking. "I will not hurt you." Slowly, he put an arm around the boy and squeezed gently. Jack hid his face against his shirt.
Bruce looked up to find the other boys at the foot of the steps, watching him in their hunting-cat way.
"Jack," Bruce murmured, "I think your brothers are worried about you. Go on and play."
Jack broke away and raced down the steps, shrieking in a hysterically relieved way. He pounced at Cassandra, who evaded gracefully and started teasing him as he chased her. John and Peter continued to stare at Bruce, though they now seemed to be studying him rather than on the verge of attacking.
"Cassandra," Bruce called, "I'll be in the cave if you need anything."
She made a 'Got it' gesture.
Bruce, however, did not get much work done. After only twenty minutes, the children came romping into the Batcave. Cassandra tried to get them interested in the practice area, but Jack kept running to interrupt Bruce just for the sake of interacting with him, and though Peter avoided direct contact, for some reason he kept being loud and distracting near Bruce's workspace. John seemed on edge until Cassandra lowered a trapeze bar within his reach and attracted his interest.
Bruce finally turned away from the computer and asked, "What?"
Peter darted to hide behind the edge of the computer bank.
Bruce got up and went over there, positioning himself to the side so that Peter could escape if he wanted. He looked down at the boy, who stared up at him with wide eyes. "You look like you want to talk to me, Peter. Is there something you want to say?"
"...You are angry."
"No, I am not angry. I was angry when you hurt Dick, but you're not hurting him anymore, so I am no longer angry."
Peter's hand darted out to strike his shoe, then instantly drew back.
"That does not make me angry, either. I am annoyed that you keep interrupting my work, but I'm not angry, and I'm not going to hurt you."
After a pause, Peter lunged and shoved at him, then leaped back out of reach. They stared at each other.
"Do you...want me to chase you?" The idea of Peter actually initiating a game with him was...unbelievable. In both senses of the word.
"Nno!" Peter said quickly, but there was...anticipation in his expression.
"...Do you want me to catch you?"
"NO!" Now it was fear.
"...If I chase you, you will be too fast for me to catch," Bruce tried, and that was it. Peter actually giggled, and when Bruce made an experimental move toward him, Peter fled toward Cassandra, not as if he was running for his life, but as if he wanted to play where someone he trusted could rescue him if necessary.
Jack joined in immediately. Cassandra soon did as well, and she let Bruce catch her a few times. He understood at once that she was showing the children how harmless it was to be caught. Neither of the boys seemed ready to submit to it themselves, but they did watch intently, and were relieved every time their sister leaped free again.
Bruce figured it was as good a chance as any to slip in some indirect self-defense instruction. Cassandra demonstrated the movements slowly and with enough exaggeration that the boys could perceive and hopefully remember. Of course Bruce never wanted his youngest children to ever have a need to perform such moves, but they lived in Gotham, and Bruce's older sons - not to mention Bruce himself - had been captured in their civilian identities before (some of them multiple times), so...self-defense was good to know.
John hid and watched for a long time. When he did finally rush out to join in the game, he seemed to take it more seriously than his siblings did. He did not laugh or smile when he darted to intercept Bruce and court his attention, again and again, replacing his brothers with himself as a target.
When Jack ran slowly enough that the charade of not being able to catch him was difficult to keep up, and Bruce's fingers were inches away, John fiercely shoved himself between them. Bruce lightly grasped his forearm, and was impressed and proud when John seized his own fist and yanked upward, taking advantage of the weakest point of Bruce's grip. It was a move Cassandra had demonstrated earlier.
"Good!" Bruce cried, and John glared at him warily from a safe distance. "Good. That's exactly how to do it if a bad person grabs you like that."
"You bad person grab!"
"Come back here and I'll show you more ways to break a hold."
John considered, but ultimately retreated in rejection. Then Peter and Jack pounced at Bruce together, and he turned it into a self-defense lesson.
The fresh knowledge seemed to both excite them and put them on edge. Their attacks grew rougher, they stopped laughing, and when John zeroed in on Bruce again, it no longer felt like a game.
He was genuinely fleeing from them now. He had to stop letting them catch him because their attacks hurt. They started to snarl, and John's mouth had stretched into a Joker smile at some point. Bruce had a feeling their minds were not entirely in the present...surely they'd fantasized at some point about being able to turn the tables on their tormentor. The dark corner of Bruce's heart that he always kept locked up tight gleefully imagined siccing his children on that monster and watching them tear him to pieces, but the monster was dead. This was real life, not a fantasy.
Bruce seized a grapple gun and rose to an upper level, safely out of reach. The children gathered beneath him like dogs who'd just treed their prey.
"We're finished," Bruce called down to them firmly. "The game is over."
There was a very long pause. "I like it," Peter finally protested, but the Monsterbird look on his face began to seep away.
"I want to chase Bad Laugh Man," Jack pouted.
"Our dark place, not yours," John signed, his gestures so muted that it was hard to understand him from a distance.
"Let's go upstairs. Back away, or I won't come down."
They shifted, but didn't move back.
"Go play with Cassandra. You're finished playing with me."
Cassandra had been watching from the practice area, keeping an eye on them but not interfering. She raised her voice to get their attention and then called "Come to me" with her body. "Rest." She held out some water bottles, and the children finally galloped over to her. When Bruce made his way over and they all headed upstairs a few minutes later, Jack held his hand, and Peter carefully brushed against him without flinching. Cassandra put her arm around John, who held it in place.
TBC