The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 19.2 (rough draft 2)
Bruce left Barbara to her work and took the children back upstairs. After checking the Robin Monitor and noting that Alfred was asleep, he asked the kids whether they wanted to play outside or inside. Both of the younger ones eagerly chose to go outdoors, and now that Barbara had pointed it out, it was painfully obvious how heavy John's heart was. He expressed no preferences and barely played with his brothers, making only half-hearted attempts to join them in response to their urging.
Even when Bruce kept his distance, watching from the terrace as the children played on the grass, John still seemed oppressed. Subtle indications in his body language suggested that, even when he wasn't looking at the man, he was still strongly aware of Bruce's presence.
"John," Bruce called, "your older siblings should be awake soon. Would you like me to leave when one of them is ready to come play with you?"
Even that drew no response from the boy.
Jack, impatient with how boring John was being, galloped over to Bruce and tugged on him. Neither tag nor hide-and-seek seemed like a good idea, but they had a good time playing a version of red light, green light, with Peter and Jack taking turns dictating when the other and Bruce were allowed to take steps. John just sat on the grass nearby, showing signs of life only when the cat came wandering over to sniff at him.
When they came inside to get water, they found that Damian and Duke were awake, scrounging for food in the kitchen. Bruce left the birds in their care ("Wash your hands before you touch the food, Todd!") and went to check on Alfred again. He heard small footsteps behind him - John hurrying to catch up.
No, not catch up; to get ahead of him and block the door. "John," Bruce groaned. He had to forcibly move the boy aside. John promptly dashed into the suite to climb onto Alfred's bed and shield him.
"Master John, I assure you...I'm quite all right," Alfred sighed, but he did rest his arm around the child.
"Do you think you can tolerate some real food?" Bruce asked.
Alfred blanched. "Real food, perhaps."
"But not anything we'd produce when you're not here," Bruce finished. "Let me see if there are any leftovers from the last time you cooked."
He brought some chicken and crackers, and helped Alfred sit up to eat. John clung to his grandfather, gazing at Bruce. "...Alfred," Bruce said in a low voice. "Barbara thinks he's...not doing well. Worse than his brothers. I'm not so sure she's wrong."
Alfred laid his hand over the boy's. "Master John, are you truly so unhappy here?"
"...You eat Grandpa, I eat you," John signed at Bruce.
"And then I tell him that would never happen and he's safe here," Bruce said, his voice reflecting none of the turmoil he felt, "and he refuses to believe me, and I wonder, Alfred, if maybe his soul just can't survive in this house. ...If I should...let another family love him. People who can make him feel safe, because I can't. I'll never be able to."
There was a long silence as Alfred managed another couple of bites. "The child's needs come first," he finally murmured, looking as pained at the idea of losing John as Bruce felt.
There was another long silence. "Who, though?" Bruce finally burst out in anguish. "Who, Alfred? Anyone I trust can't take him in, not with the sort of lives we lead! I had to give up the cowl to keep them, I can't ask that of anyone else. And I can't...the thought of letting strangers have him, after all the things I've seen in the foster system, Alfred..."
Alfred's arm tightened around the child, and he closed his eyes. "Oh, Master John..." John silently reached to touch the tears glimmering on his cheeks.
Several minutes passed while Bruce sat with his head in his hands and Alfred held his precious grandson and John gently brushed tear after tear away from his face. At last, Bruce stood. "If you're done, I'll put the rest in your refrigerator here. Should I take John, or leave him?"
"He seems to wish to stay," Alfred murmured.
"All right. Don't hesitate to call me." Bruce left, his heavy footsteps echoing the weight of his heart.
It was quiet, with only the soft sound of Bach on the music player to break the silence. "Gggamm'ppa," John whispered.
Alfred gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of the boy's face. "My dear child...no one in this house means you any harm. You are safe here. I hope with all my heart...you will someday understand that."
"...I dream you. Dream-you love me hug me weak. You-here love me hug me weak, also."
Alfred's brow furrowed in confusion. After a moment, he laid a kiss on John's forehead and soon drifted off to sleep. John pressed his lips to the old man's temple and continued to keep watch.
After lunch, Bruce meant to start the children on lessons - Damian and Duke included; it had been far too long since he'd checked on how they were doing on their studies - but got distracted by the news on his phone. As Peter and Jack drew pictures and ignored Damian's critiques, Bruce scrolled and tapped intently, trying to track down where the "Billionaire Playboy Adopts Blind Cancer Patients" and "Wayne Disappearance Linked to Joker Children?" headlines had come from.
The original article by Kristine Graciano was fairly accurate, but the lack of public news since then and colorful speculation on celebrity gossip forums had given rise to outrageous rumors. He probably needed to update his social media and make a public appearance soon; it had not gone unnoticed that Bruce Wayne was neither partying nor philanthroping, or even showing up to work. 'I don't have time for this!' he thought in frustration. "Damian."
"Yes, Father?"
"Look for a couple of photos of the children to share online - they should look happy, but either avoid or edit out the mask scars. And draft some social media posts for me about how I've been too busy with them - too happily busy with them - to be in the spotlight much. DO NOT post anything on my behalf, just send them to me privately." Damian hadn't hijacked his father's social media accounts in a while, but there was a time when it had been a big problem, and Bruce still didn't trust him with that sort of thing.
"Right away, Father," Damian said at once, relishing the chance to establish his reliability and make the Wayne name sound good. "Shall I update my own feeds as well?"
"If you want, but if there's any mention of me or the birds, let me look at it before you post it."
"Yes, Father."
Bruce turned to the other teenager. "Duke, show me all the academic assignments you've finished since the last time I checked in on you."
Duke blinked, disconcerted. "Uh...can I have...twenty minutes?"
Bruce leveled a stern look at him. "Twenty minutes."
"I've been working, I just- Yeah, twenty minutes," Duke said, scrambling for his laptop.
Bruce looked at the birds, who cocked their heads curiously. "Time for lessons." Both of them crowed happily and galloped off toward their study room.
Before they reached it, they detoured to hug Cassandra, who'd just woken up and still had bedhead. She amiably returned their embraces, and looked up at Bruce. "John?"
"He's guarding Alfred from me. Can you talk to him after you've eaten?"
"John...upset?"
"John thinks I will hurt Alfred. No matter how often I tell him I would never hurt Alfred, he doesn't believe me."
Her expression grew pained. "Ah," she said sadly. "John say...alone. Not listen, I not tell." She made a movement that meant 'however.' "I protect." She shrugged. "It's the only thing I can do."
"Just do your best, Cassandra."
It started to rain soon after that, and the schoolroom felt rather cozy, especially when Damian came to get his father's approval for the social media posts and Duke to turn in his assignments. Bruce gave them both new schoolwork to do and checked over their older work, pausing frequently to instruct or praise the younger children. Cassandra eventually came in with John, and while the boy showed no interest in learning anything new, Cassandra asked him to teach her ASL signs, and at last, he regained a little of his old spirit.
"Flockmates," he chirred, signing "brothers." Cassandra dutifully mimicked the hand movements. "Family?" she asked Bruce.
"This is 'family.' He's actually signing 'brother.' "
"Brother. Family," she practiced, struggling to connect the concepts to the hand motions and the sounds and the movements of the lips, tongue, and throat necessary to make those sounds. It was so hard to juggle them all... Her little birds were so amazing for finding it so easy.
"Love," John signed. "I love you."
"Precious," she said back, without any words at all. "Safe."
He smiled back wanly. "I keep you safe."
"No. I am big, you are little, it is I who protects you."
"You don't notice danger behind you. I keep you safe."
"...Everyone in this 'family,' we keep each other safe."
"You see only nice. The chains are hiding; I know where they are, you do not."
"...If you are always protecting protecting protecting, when will you rest?"
He did not reply. "Food," he said instead, teaching her the next ASL sign.
Tim got home a little later than usual, and fell asleep on the living room floor while the birds were massaging him. Jack lay on the teen's back to take a nap, too, and Peter wandered away to find awake people to do interesting things with.
Dinner started out as an attempt at homemade pizza, though when the family discovered that there was no tomato sauce and only a handful of pepperoni, it ended up being more like a platter of bread slices piled with random bits of whatever had been scavenged from the refrigerator and pantry. Tim, Damian, Duke, Peter, and Jack watched an animated movie while they ate. Alfred, unfortunately, had taken a turn for the worse and was throwing up again, so Bruce forgot to eat in the chaos of tending to him. Cassandra had to referee John, who was terribly upset at seeing his grandfather in such distress.
"Safe, no danger, no hurt, safe, precious, safe-!"
"DO NOT KILL GRANDPA!"
By the time Alfred was resting easier, Bruce was more tired than hungry, and opted to take a short nap rather than eat. While he slept, Cassandra coaxed some food into John. Then they all made their way downstairs, where the others were getting ready for patrol.
"...ffee, ffourr, ffibbe, ssi'xx," Jack said, counting batarangs for Damian, who was valiantly suppressing his impatience.
"Ttimmyy," Peter said anxiously, "bad people hurt you, bite them." He demonstrated with his arms. "Protect head."
"Thanks, Peter," Tim said kindly. "I will."
"Peter, Jack," Bruce called. "Time for bed. Let's go upstairs."
This time, he didn't bother to draw a bath. He got Peter into the shower without too much trouble when he allowed the boy to keep his underwear on, but John just stood there and stared at him challengingly. "...Fine, John. You don't have to bathe tonight, but you will have to take either a bath or a shower tomorrow. I'm sorry there is no one else available to supervise you, but there's nothing I can do about that."
The younger children suddenly burst into a disagreement. Bruce did his best to intervene, but it still ended with both boys crying, Jack because he'd bumped his head against the tiled wall of the shower, and Peter because he'd slipped and fallen hard on his butt. 'Why can't raising children be even slightly easier?' Bruce silently complained a few minutes later, trying to dry Peter with one hand as he held a comfort-seeking Jack in his other arm.
By the time he was able to look around for their brother, he found John lying naked in the dry tub, gazing at a rubber duck as if it held deep secrets. "Give me just a minute, John, I'll turn on the water in a minute..."
When the children were finally in bed, he forced himself through a few pages of Peter Pan, but was pretty desperate for a break and couldn't handle a lengthy picture book. "No, The Lorax is too long. We will read Harold and the Purple Crayon instead."
At last, he was able to kiss Jack good night, briefly caress Peter's and then John's hair, and turn out all but the night light. Jack, on first watch, settled back with a book light, a notepad, and a crayon. His brothers lay curled around him. Bruce shut the door and carried a Robin Monitor down with him to the Batcave.
TBC