The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 21.2 (rough draft 2)
Even though Dick had gotten some sleep, he still felt exhausted and too heartsick to keep working with the desperate little birds. Almost as soon as Wally and Stephanie assured him that they'd keep an eye on the children, particularly on John, Dick curled up on his bed for a hopefully more restful nap. Jack practically wedged himself into the shelter of his big brother's body and soon fell asleep as well, leaking snot and a few tears and a bit of drool onto Dick's shirt.
"I think we need to get out of this room," Stephanie suggested. "Babies! Let's go play outside!"
"Bad Laugh Man outside!" Peter exclaimed, and John, who was finally allowing Wally to maneuver him into a pair of shorts, had zero reaction, but the second bird did follow Stephanie when she made a big production out of leaving. He peered suspiciously up and down the hall for a while, then darted out and latched onto the teen.
She laughed and patted him. "All clear, kiddo!"
"Sssshhh, ccarr'ffuh, ccarr'ffuh," he cautioned, pushing Stephanie along and sticking close to the wall. Wally followed, carrying a limp John on his back.
They made it to the back yard without incident, where Peter immediately dashed to hide under a mass of honeysuckle, giggling a little. Stephanie played with him, sneaking from bush to bush, as Wally sat on the grass holding a tearfully cuddly John and trying valiantly to not be bored. "No one even could hurt you," he coaxed. "You saw how super-fast I am, right? Even if a bad guy jumped out of the trees right this minute, I'd be like whoosh! and then they'd be tied up waiting for the cops long before they could touch you."
John kept clinging and said nothing.
"Don't you want to play with Peter and Stephanie over there? They look like they're having fun~"
John slowly turned his face up. His searching expression broke Wally's heart.
"Never mind, it's okay, I'm definitely not trying to get rid of you! If you just want to sit here and hug for an hour, then we'll sit here and hug for an hour."
John relaxed slightly and turned his face back into Wally's shirt.
"...We can watch a movie or something while we hug, though!" Wally suggested desperately. He would go crazy if he didn't have something to pass the time. Luckily, even though John showed no interest in the cartoon Wally pulled up on his phone, he didn't seem to mind it, either.
A hulking shape moved through the trees. Stephanie and Wally froze, hoping that the children wouldn't be frightened and that Dick had been right when he'd told them that Goliath wouldn't hurt a fly except to protect his loved ones.
"DDO'GGIE! RRRE'DD DDO'GGIE!" Peter shrieked in such delight that John actually shifted to see what he was so excited about. Peter ran right up to Goliath, who lowered his head to sniff at him curiously, and made grabby hands. "Rrre'dd ddoggie!"
"That's a big red doggie, all right," Stephanie laughed, coming up to stroke the dragon-bat. "Ooohh, you really are a sweetheart, aren'tcha, Clifford."
John actually got up and went over to the newcomer. He laid both hands on Goliath's face for a minute. The great beast very gently closed his claws around John, cradled him for a moment like a precious treasure, then lifted him up to his shoulder, where John scrambled onto his back.
"Mmemmemememeeee!" Peter insisted, and was picked up as well. "SSSEPH! SSSEPH! LLLOO'KK, MMY DDOGGIE!"
"I think he's actually Damian's doggie, but it looks like he doesn't mind being borrowed!"
Peter rode around on the dragon-bat for about twenty minutes, then slithered off and went to hunt for bugs. John lay there on the thick red fur and felt the sun warm on his skin and wished idly that there was a way to die like this, so soft and peaceful. He lay there until he fell asleep, and he continued to lie there after he woke up, and he hoped that Big Red would bite off Master's head when Master came back to hurt them.
o.o.o
Dick did feel a little better when he woke up. He looked at Jack and frowned, since the boy was breathing heavily as he slept, and half his face was crusted with snot and drool. "What a mess, baby bird," he started to murmur affectionately, then froze at the heat of Jack's skin under his hand. He fetched the thermometer from his bathroom and was dismayed to find that Jack's temperature was too high. "Oh nooo, Jackie...!"
He hurried out of the room, intending to let the rest of the family know and hunt down some food or juice or something, and nearly shrieked when he found Tim sprawled in the hall. "Timmy, what are you doing?!"
"M' feet hurt at work," the teenager slurred.
Dick went to pick him up and found that his skin was too hot, his eyes glazed. "Gah, both Timmys are sick!" He carried Tim to his room and put him back in bed.
"Compu'er. Big meeting," Tim moaned.
"No, Timothy. Bruce is at work, he's taking care of everything, so you just rest, okay?"
" 'M okay. Timmy good t'go."
"And I think you're not quite sober yet, either..."
Tim squinted, his gaze growing a little sharper but more pained. "...Dick?"
"What's up?"
"Gotta...pee... Drive me t'work...w' coffee..."
"Okay, work and coffee, no, but pee, yes. Here, I've got you."
Tim was all but unconscious by the time he'd finished using the toilet, and Dick once again carried him to bed. Then he headed toward the kitchen. On the way, he passed Alfred, who was pushing a large wheeled trash can toward the garage. Maya came up and set a smaller bag of trash inside the can. "This was from that bathroom down the hall."
"Thank you, my dear. That should be the last of it."
"Alfred," Dick said, "both Tims are sick. Should I give them anything other than a lot to drink and whatever food they can stomach?"
"Oh dear," Alfred said, looking very worried. Tim had always been more susceptible to illness than his brothers were, and his chronic lack of sleep and proper food certainly didn't help. "I'll go take a look at them in just a moment. In the meantime, perhaps you'd better check on the other children... I'm afraid they likely caught it from me, and Master John spent quite a lot of time with me while I was ill."
Dick exclaimed in dismay and hurried outside. Peter looked frustrated as he argued with Stephanie and Wally ("Rrrun ffass't, Sseph! Run away from Bad Laugh Man!"), but physically fine. John had apparently decided that Goliath was his new bed and did not respond to Dick's calls, so Dick had to climb up after him. The man couldn't tell if John's skin was hot from fever or from the sun, and the boy looked increasingly angry as he kept pushing his big brother away. Dick finally sighed and slid back down again. "Goliath, let us know if John needs help, okay?"
"Reeeouh."
o.o.o
Damian woke up a little before eleven o'clock. There was a wheelchair sitting next to his bed, which he found highly offensive until he discovered how much it hurt to move. Still, he was a Wayne and an al Ghul, so he forced through the pain and made himself get out of bed, at which point he promptly collapsed. "Of all the thrice-cursed, insufferable things...!"
By the time he made it to the wheelchair, he was shaky and almost...almost grateful to be able to hoist himself into it. Then he gritted his teeth and straightened up and wheeled himself to the bathroom, determined to get through his ablutions without assistance.
He eventually made it out of his room and found a speedster, of all people, in the living room when he passed it, playing checkers with Peter. "The elder Wallace West," he noted.
"Hi, Damian," Wally said with a nod. "You want to play next?"
"Ddami, Ii wwin ccoo'kkie!" Peter proclaimed, waving a fistful of black game pieces at Damian that he had captured from his opponent.
"He calls them 'cookies,'" Wally laughed. "It's adorable."
"Where are the other children?"
"Well, apparently Jackie's sick, and also Tim, so Dick's mother henning them both, and Steph's keeping an eye on Johnny."
"Wait, Richard is here? Brown is here?"
"Oh, man, you've been out for a while, haven't you! Yeah, so, last night, apparently the kiddos saw Bruce being Batman and completely freaked out, Dick came to help but he's super stressed out now because the babies are so upsetthattheystartedself-harming, orJackdidbutPeter'sactuallymostlyokayandJohnny'sonsuicidewatch-"
"Pay attention, West. Todd is stealing your 'cookies.'"
Wally looked down at the board. "Peter?! You sneaked some of my pieces?!"
"Nnnooo, [caw] ggoo'd bboy!" Peter giggled.
Damian, troubled and not sure what to make of Wally's news, wheeled away and mulled over the information as he continued on to the kitchen. Then he forgot what he was thinking about, because he was both delighted and concerned to discover that his grandfather was out of bed. "Pennyworth, what are you doing?!"
"I should have thought that would be obvious," Alfred said dryly, adding some freshly-diced celery to a pot on the stove.
"No, I mean- Ducard?! What are you doing here?!"
"Siphoning some of your inheritance money," Maya said without missing a beat, stirring something in a different pot. "I've been doing housework all morning, so Alfred said he'd pay me. Your dad's rich, so it'll be a lot."
"Where's Goliath?"
"Outside. Hey, why didn't you tell me you've got new siblings? I think I have a right to know when my little brother gets little brothers."
"You're as obnoxious as ever, Ducard."
"At least I'm ambulatory."
"Shut up," he mumbled, his face turning red as he fidgeted in his wheelchair. "Pennyworth, I am pleased to see you in better health." Forgetting that he was hungry, he backed out of the kitchen and wheeled to the main back sliding door, grateful for the first time that the manor had been made wheelchair-accessible thanks to Barbara Gordon's years as a paraplegic.
Outdoors, he found his largest animal friend napping under the trees, with Stephanie lounging on his back and watching something on her phone as she absently petted John. "Goliath," Damian called, wheeling down the ramp from the terrace.
The dragon-bat opened his eyes and rose carefully so as not to dislodge his passengers, padding over to lick Damian's face.
"Yes, I'm glad to see you, too, you disgusting creature," Damian said happily, wiping the slimy dragon drool off his face. "How are you feeling? No lingering effects from the toxin?"
Goliath vocalized, and Damian checked over his eyes and mouth, then patted his furry cheek. "I'm glad to see you well again, my friend." He looked at the others.
"Wanna watch Voltron with us?" Stephanie offered, patting the fur beside her.
"I have better things to do with my time than waste it with cartoons, Brown."
"Hey, don't diss everyone's favorite lion robots in space!"
Damian frowned at John in concern. "Grayson, are you ill?" There was no response. Damian signaled Goliath, who carefully helped him up onto his back. "Grayson. Grayson, I'm talking to you."
John's eyeballs finally rolled in Damian's direction, but he did not otherwise move.
Damian leaned closer to peer at him. "He's pale, and his skin is too hot, and he's leaking." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbed the boy's upper lip clean. John blinked slowly.
"He won't get off of Goliath so we can check him over properly," Stephanie explained. "We figured we'd let him mope in peace until lunch. I've been giving him water as often as he'll take it."
"Hmmm." Lunch sounded pretty good. Damian fluffed out John's sweat-sticky hair to cool him down a bit, then went about the painful process of descending back into his wheelchair. "Goliath, Brown, take care of him."
Goliath rumbled, and Stephanie rolled her eyes at the implication that she wouldn't unless instructed. "Sir, yes, sir."
When the soup was ready, Wally was sent to see if Cassandra and Duke wanted to join them. Both had recently awakened; Duke said he'd be down soon, and Cassandra, who'd been drowsing off and on throughout the morning, held up her arms in a request to be carried.
"My pleasure, milady!"
She giggled when they arrived in the dining room literally a second later. "Fast."
"Yup. Flash-fast." He carefully set her in a chair.
"Cass!" Dick exclaimed when he came in. "How're you feeling?"
"Okay."
"How are you really feeling?"
"...Hurts," she admitted. "Little hurt. I am okay." Which, in Cassandra-speak, meant she was in a lot of pain but was enduring it in order to focus on things she cared more about. "Children?"
"Not so good."
He explained what had happened the night before, and Cassandra's eyes grew shadowed. "Bad."
"Yeah, I know it's a mess. Maybe you can help Steph with John? I'm going to stay with Jack, he's too sick to haul him all the way over here." Dick brought a covered bowl of soup and some bread to his room, where Jack was miserably huddled in bed. Maya was reading to him as Peter carefully dripped water into his mouth from the cup on the bedside table. "Hey, baby birds," Dick said gently. "Brought you some lunch."
"crow~!" Peter cheered.
"Ddi'ckkie," Jack whimpered, then signed, "Feel bad."
"I know you're sick, baby bird. You have to drink a lot so you'll get better sooner, okay? And look, this is soup, so it's like eating and drinking at the same time."
When Peter saw that Dick was looking after their little brother, he allowed Maya to lead him off to the dining room. They sat down with the injured people and started eating, but trouble was brewing outside, where Duke, Stephanie, and Wally were struggling with John. "Come on, Johnny, it's time for lunch," Stephanie coaxed. "Aren't you hungry?"
The boy ignored them at first, then started crowing and struggling when they tried to physically pull him down. "Dude, come on," Duke said. "Dragon-Clifford needs a break, too."
John still stubbornly clung to fistfuls of red fur, looking like he was gearing up to be tortured.
"He's got a runny nose like Jack does," Wally said worriedly. "I think he is sick."
Damian came to the terrace and called, "What's the holdup?"
"We can't get John down!" Stephanie called back.
"Grayson, release Goliath at once!"
The command had as much of an effect as expected, so Damian addressed the dragon-bat himself. "Goliath, I have prepared a meal for you in the Batcave."
The creature's ears perked up, and he immediately headed toward the cave. Wally made sure that he was out of John's line of sight and then raced to get there ahead of them, where he found that there was, indeed, a large tub of what was probably dragon food. After a little while, Goliath lumbered in with the others trailing after him, went straight to the tub, and plunged his head into it. John, still curled up on his back, looked unperturbed by all the movement.
"Johnny. Come on, kiddo; Goliath's got his lunch, so let's get some lunch for you, too."
They ended up having to drag John off of the animal by force, and Goliath stopped eating to peer at the screaming child in concern until the elevator doors closed. Duke and the others got John upstairs and released him just past the threshold of the dining room. He immediately crawled to hide behind the nearest credenza.
[caw] rushed to him. "[chirp-chirp] okay?!"
"Master tie me, poison me, bad meat bad meat bad meat..."
"No Bat poison meat," [caw] assured him. "Good food! Bat come, I eat him!"
"Master hurt me...hurt me..."
[caw] checked to see if Bat had sneaked up on him in case [chirp-chirp] was right, but there was no Bat, only the big people. So [caw] went to get some good bread and pushed it under the big wood thing, and [chirp-chirp] ate it. The big people were very happy. [caw] brought more and more, and [chirp-chirp] ate that, too, and someone put a bowl of 'soup' on the floor.
'Thank God for Peter,' Stephanie thought. They were all more or less eating now, keeping an eye on the birds and giving Peter bits of food to slip to John. It was horrible to see John crawl to the bowl of soup and lower his head to lap at it like an animal, but at least he was eating it, which was an improvement from before Peter had gotten involved.
Meanwhile, Dick was feeding Jack, and had gotten about half the bowl of soup into him when the little boy suddenly made a choking sound and then threw up. Jack burst into tears.
"Oh nooo, Jackie...!" He cleaned up the boy, who wanted to be held and would sob whenever Dick tried to put him down. "Jackie, I have to clean up the bed and the floor, too..." He had to call for help. Alfred soon arrived, but the old man looked so tired and shaky when he tried to kneel to scrub the carpet that Dick had to interfere. "Aw, man, Alfred, no, you're still recovering. Let me work on the floor, I just need you to hold Jack."
Alfred protested, and did end up cleaning the floor while Dick moved Jack into the children's room, but by the time the butler trudged back from disposing of the soiled rags, he looked exhausted.
"Alfred," Dick called when he heard footsteps in the hall, and a minute later, the butler peered in. "Can you hold Jack, just for a minute? I need a break."
"Very well, Master Dick, but I need to finish work in your room."
"Yeah, it's just for a minute. I'll come right back, I swear." Jack fussed when he was transferred, but then buried his face in Alfred's shirt and went still. Once Dick had slipped out, he went back to his own room, glad that there were some windows already open but raising the rest to help air out the smell faster. He took his time changing the sheets and tidying up, and by the time he peeked into the birds' room again, he was glad to find that Alfred and Jack had fallen asleep together. 'Perfect.'
He went to fetch lunch for Tim and grab a bite to eat for himself while he was at it. In the dining room, he found everyone weirdly oriented, like the central point of interest was by the wall rather than the center of the table. This was, he discovered when he looked around, because they were helping Peter feed his brother as if John was a skittish stray cat. "...Okay."
"He's sick, and he hates us, and he wouldn't eat until Peter started bringing him stuff," Stephanie explained.
"What a little dick," Dick quipped, only half-joking. It bothered him that John was apparently refusing help when he clearly needed it, it bothered him that he was isolating himself, and it bothered him that-
With no warning or provocation, John, having licked up about an eighth of the serving, hurled the bowl of soup away from him and retreated farther behind the credenza. Everyone stared in exasperation. Only Peter took it in stride, twittering questioningly. John screeched back, suddenly threw up, cried for exactly one second, then started screaming for no discernible reason.
"...Right, well, I just had my turn cleaning up vomit, so I'm gonna let you all deal with that while I go feed Tim," Dick said. He felt, while he was loading a tray, like a robot was using his body at the moment. The feeling dissipated when he was almost to Tim's room, and he couldn't go in to feed his brother until his eyes stopped stinging with unshed tears.
He felt bad waking up the sick teen, but then Tim got all cuddly and that was kind of nice. "Got some lunch for you, Timmy."
"Hungry..."
"Yeah, that's why I brought it."
"Want coffee."
"Hmmmm." The non-committal noise was apparently enough to make Tim forget to keep asking, and a few quiet minutes passed. Tim passively opened his mouth for the first few bites, but then grumbled and reached to feed himself. His progress was slooooow, but at least he didn't drop the spoon.
"My feet hurt," Tim finally said after a long time.
"I know. That's because a giant flower tried to eat you."
Tim shuddered.
"You want some bread, Timmy?"
"Yeah," Tim said shyly, sounding almost exactly like Jack for a moment.
"I love you, Timmy," Dick tried on impulse.
"I love you, too, Dickie."
Dick valiantly suppressed his squee, glad that he had thought to take advantage of the situation while he still could.
Tim ate until he fell asleep again, and Dick took the leftovers back to the kitchen. Then he looked in on the dining room, where people seemed to be trying to coax something ('John, Johnny, always Johnny,' Dick thought wearily) out of the cabinet of a different credenza. "What's he doing this time?"
"We're trying to get this sick baby to bed where he can rest."
"Move." Dick nudged them all aside and reached into the cabinet, grinning mirthlessly when sharp teeth sank into the layer of armor he'd put on. "Not this time, kiddo. Up."
John, though still tense, went still at the word, but in the bedroom hall when he realized he was being carried to his room, he started to struggle again.
"John, seriously, cut it out." He hoisted the boy over his shoulder to get a better grip on him, and barely flinched when John vengefully vomited down his back. The boy didn't have much in his stomach to bring up, but it was still disgusting. "That's not going to work."
Then the furious screaming started. Dick sighed, backed away from the children's room, and headed for Jason's room instead, since there weren't any guest rooms left in this wing of the house. Jack was miserable enough, he didn't need to have someone shrieking in his ear on top of being ill.
Alfred stumbled out into the hall a moment later, awakened by the noise. He looked around at Dick struggling with John, a distressed-looking Wally carrying an even more distressed-looking Cassandra on his back, and Stephanie letting an unhappy-looking Peter cling to her hand. "Mr. West, if you will kindly get Mistress Cassandra to the wheelchair in her room, she can watch over Master Jack, if that is amenable to her." He asked Cassandra directly in words that were easier for her to understand, and she nodded in agreement. There wasn't much she could do when she could barely walk and there were so many other people around. "If someone else would be so good as to fetch some cleaning supplies, I will take care of the carpet."
"Duke already went to get them."
"Ssseph," Peter whispered, "[chirp-chirp] sscc'arre."
"What's he scared of, Petey?"
"Bba'ttmmann. Bba'dd mmmea'tt."
"Bad meat? He doesn't have to eat any meat at all, Peter. And Batman's not here right now."
"Good," Peter chirped.
John absolutely refused to stay in bed. He screamed and fought and, dizzy from his illness, bumped his head hard against the nightstand while attempting to get away from his tormentor. Dick paused guiltily, then had to grab him again to stop him from wriggling under the bed. "Nope, no, we're not going to do that. Someone block off the underside of the bed." Wally jumped to obey, glad to have something useful to do. Stephanie kept trying to coax Peter away, but the boy insisted on staying, watching his brother carefully.
Thwarted, John started straining toward the desk instead, and Dick hesitantly released him. The boy crawled a short way, then swayed and fell over onto his side. He whimpered once and then was quiet.
Everyone stared for a minute. Then Dick tried to pick him up again, but that only prompted John to resume the screaming and clawing. The child was an absolute mess, with tangled hair falling out of its braid and snot smeared all over his face and soup stains on his clothes. "What is wrong with you?!" Dick cried in utter exasperation.
"Hey, man, look," Wally said gently, "he's obviously not going to stay in bed even if we make him lie down. You want to see if maybe he'll feel better on a couch or something?"
Dick thrust his younger self into Wally's arms and then lay on the floor in defeat. Wally ruffled his hair affectionately before carrying John away. After a minute, Duke approached with a set of clean clothes. "You want to change straight into them, or shower first?"
"I think I want to shut myself in a small enclosure and maybe scream into the water, yeah..."
In the living room, John wouldn't stay on the couch, either, but at least he'd stopped screaming. He pushed Wally away and started to climb a large, sturdy shelf, ignoring the items he dislodged. "Whoa, Johnny, no, let's not do that!" John started yelling and struggling and throwing things. Finally, Wally rushed to get everything off the shelf, and the super-speed didn't bother John this time. The boy hauled himself up, his illness-weakened limbs shaking with the effort, until he managed to get to the top shelf, which was wide enough for him to lie down on.
For a long minute, Wally stared up at the boy, who was quiet and finally looked half-relaxed as he gave in to his exhaustion. Then the speedster shook his head, murmured, "Oh, Dickie," and started speed-hauling a mattress and as many spare pillows as he could find to arrange below the shelves and cushion a potential fall. He duct-taped more cushioning to the edges of the shelves, then sat back on a couch, determined to catch Johnny, if necessary, before he got anywhere near the floor.
Peter, who had followed and watched closely, now stepped back in satisfaction and cheerfully asked Stephanie to go with him to "Pplllay wwif rre'dd ddoggie."
"I think I got the easy one," Stephanie muttered guiltily, casting a last glance back at John before following where Peter dragged her.
o.o.o
Late that afternoon, when Dick peeked in to check on him, he found Tim conscious and lying in a dramatic sprawl across the bed. "My head hurts," Tim whined, "and I'm nauseous."
"Ooohh, 'nauseous'! You really are feeling better."
Tim wrinkled his nose in confusion. "I just told you I feel like crap."
"Yeah, but you're using big boy words like 'nauseous' now, so that's an improvement."
"What? I don't even remember being conscious." He was disconcerted by how much Dick laughed.
The brothers settled together on the bed, Tim nuzzling miserably into Dick, who stroked a hand through his hair. After several minutes had passed, Tim finally muttered, "I had an awful dream that I was trying to go to work, but this horrible gorilla kept grabbing me and dragging me away."
"Oh - actually, that was real. I was the gorilla."
Tim groaned. "Figures."
TBC
A/N: I kept forgetting to mention that, not only is this fic continuous, linear, and long enough to be a successful NaNoWriMo novel (my only other fic that falls into this category is Carried Off), TBWS is also now my most popular fic on AO3 in every reader-dependent category, even beating out "The Dragon Queen of Berk." You guys are amazing, thank you all so much for the comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and hits! (Especially the comments. XD Those always seriously make my day~)