The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 22.1 (rough draft 2)
"I still haven't found him, but I did discover something interesting," Barbara said over the phone. "There are other people who haven't been seen or heard from for about as long as Jason has, and those people are Roy Harper, Starfire, Artemis of Bana-Mighdall, and Bizarro."
"All the Outlaws, both past and present," Bruce realized. "Does it seem like they need help?"
"I don't know. No one saw Roy or Starfire vanish or anything, it's that they fell out of contact with no explanation, just like Jason did. The others are harder to track, all I have to go on for them are sightings in the news and social media. There haven't been any mentions of them or new photographs for at least as long as the original Outlaws have been missing."
"So nothing is narrowed down," Bruce said in frustration. For all he knew, Jason could be anywhere from a prison in Qurac to a planet halfway across the galaxy, or worse. "Let me know as soon as you come across anything more useful."
"You know I will, Bruce. How are the kids?"
"...I suppose I'm about to find out." Bruce hung up and reached the house soon afterward, then just sat there for a long time after turning off the car. He was so tired, and he'd had a headache for the past several hours. It had been so difficult to concentrate at work, both his secretary and Lucius had asked him if he wasn't feeling well. Of course he'd brushed them off, but...honestly, he wasn't feeling well. 'Doesn't matter. There's still work to do. Get up.'
The first thing he did was consult his tracker program, which showed Tim and Jack in their rooms, Cassandra with Jack, Dick and John in the living room, and everyone else in the kitchen, probably helping prepare dinner. Bruce slipped past them without attracting notice and very cautiously peered into the living room. Then he just stared.
One of the shelves had been emptied and covered with padding, presumably in case John fell off. The child, however, was perfectly still and balanced despite being asleep at the very top. 'Like a cat,' Bruce thought incredulously. "Dick..."
Dick and Wally were playing a video game, both of them uncharacteristically subdued. Dick in particular was limp and slumped low as if exhausted or depressed or both. "He wouldn't get down," Dick reported flatly, his eyes still on the screen. "Little brat is sick as a dog but threw a fit when we tried to put him to bed, wouldn't stop screaming. Finally just left him up there on the frickin' shelf."
"I'll catch him if he falls," Wally said quietly.
Bruce took a few steps into the room and continued to stare. "He's sick and asleep, how is he not falling off...?"
"Bruce, I am so sorry for making you raise me," Dick said sincerely.
Bruce looked at him and smiled a little. Young Dick had never fallen asleep on a shelf, but there were plenty of other similar shenanigans that had made Bruce's life as a new parent quite interesting. "It was worth it." He stepped over to a couch farther away from the TV and sank onto it with a weary groan.
"Tired?" Dick asked.
"Just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes..."
When Bruce woke, it was dark, he was covered with a blanket and alone in the room, and the entertainment center's clock proclaimed that it was nearly midnight. Bruce cursed and fought his way out of the blanket, disconcerted to find himself dizzy when he stood up. The headache had receded to an ignorable level, but now he felt a little nauseous. 'Patrol, who's on patrol, who's watching the birds...?'
The light of his phone screen hurt his eyes, though it was a little better when he turned on a lamp. According to the trackers, Jack, Cassandra, and Tim had not moved; Alfred was in his suite; Dick and Stephanie were out in the city; and everyone else was in the Batcave.
Bruce hurried downstairs. Duke was on a side-monitor of the Batcomputer, presumably to give some privacy to Damian and Maya, the latter of which had the cat in her lap. Damian, idly stroking Titus with one foot, was acting as primary tech support, but things were slow at the moment and he was laughing at something Maya had just said. Peter was curled up asleep on Goliath's back, John wrapped protectively around him with heavy-lidded but conscious eyes.
"Oh - hello, Father."
"Is Alfred all right?"
"Yes. He went to bed early, since we have the computer covered tonight."
"Good. Where's Flash?"
"He went to patrol with Nightwing and Spoiler. Are you going out?"
"Yes," Bruce said shortly, heading straight for the changing area. He ignored John's frightened, angry glare and hiss as he passed, but halfway through getting dressed, he looked up to find John on the threshold. The boy had his feet planted wide apart, his fists clenched, his teeth bared in outrage. He was swaying a little as if dizzy. "Go back to bed, John," Bruce snapped.
"Bat Man."
"Yes. This is the sign for 'Batman,' " he added, demonstrating.
John cocked his head suspiciously.
"I am not going to hurt you, I will not touch you, I will not come near you. Go to bed."
"...Bad Laugh Man."
"No," Bruce said angrily.
"Bat Man, Batman."
"I am Bruce, and I am Batman, but I am NOT the Batman Who Laughs. Laughs hurt you, but he is dead now. I am a different person, and I'm Batman to help people like you, not hurt them."
John continued to watch silently, and Bruce finished getting dressed. The boy stumbled out of the way when Bruce came striding out, but slunk after him and watched balefully as Bruce began double-checking his equipment.
"...You hurt [caw], I kill you."
"I am not going to hurt Peter."
"Birds fly away. You angry."
"Yes, I am angry, but I'm not going to punish you for trying to run away."
This seemed to enrage John. He charged to attack Bruce, but his bare hands and even his fangs had no effect on the combat-tough Batsuit.
"Not now, John," Bruce snapped. "Go away."
"crow! crow! You hurt bad birds!"
"No. Go away."
"Bad birds fly, you catch birds tie hit hurt hate birds!"
"No! Leave me alone!"
"YOU HURT FLY AWAY BIRDS."
Bruce wanted to tear out his hair in frustration, and reminded himself that the children couldn't distinguish between anger at them and anger at what they'd been reduced to because of their suffering. "John, I won't let you run away from the manor, but I will never hit you, even if you try to escape again."
John struggled to get his shirt off and turned his badly scarred back to Bruce, glaring fiercely. He didn't need words for the message to be clear: "Then why did you beat me for it before?"
Bruce, already sickened, realized with a jolt that the lash scar on John's cheek, because of the way his head was angled, matched up perfectly with one that sliced diagonally up his back. He must have once looked over his shoulder while he was being whipped, and the evidence of that one brief, agonized moment was now etched on his flesh forever.
Bruce reached out a shaking hand in an impulsive attempt to cover the scars, as if his hand could reach back through time to block the instruments that had inflicted them. John cowered away before he could make contact. "Johnny...I wish I was the one who had been beaten instead of you."
"...Birds fly away. You catch us, gentle, play forever, I die."
Bruce did not know what to make of this statement, especially with the way John's expression had changed from fear and fury to tired resentment. "I don't want you to die. You are safe here."
"Batman."
"Batman is going out into the city, to find people who need help and get them to safety."
John slowly Joker-smiled and chirred sweetly. "Bring meat to me," he added with his hands. Then he trudged away to guard Peter again, and Bruce couldn't escape the cave fast enough.
Since the Bat Signal (which was shaped like a proper bat again by now) was shining, Batman made his way over to police headquarters. The intern whose job it was to turn the Signal on and off was hovering near the light, watching Batman warily, but Jim Gordon was nowhere to be seen.
The only other person on the roof was a man who was muttering to himself as he tapped away at a tablet. Batman recognized him as Jamie Tippett, one of the Mendez & Holt investigators, but he specialized in online work. The fact that he was out in the field must have meant that Ginger was either occupied with a more urgent assignment or on leave. It also meant that JoAnn, for all her low opinion of Batman, must at least trust him enough to feel that it was safe to send Jamie to interview him.
"Mr. Tippett," Batman said, announcing his presence in a gentler version of his usual growl.
Jamie's head jerked up. "Batman. Batman. Hello, Mr. Batman, my name is Jamie Tippett," he said, advancing and thrusting out his hand to shake rather forcefully. His voice was loud and lacking in intonation. "I am an investigator for the Mendez & Holt Law Firm, I have some questions for you. I need to ask you some questions, please have a seat."
There was nowhere to sit on the roof, but Batman did not point this out. In the background, the intern turned off the Signal and went away. "What are your questions regarding?" Batman asked, having to pretend he didn't know perfectly well that it involved Bruce Wayne's newest foster children.
"Batman, you have to find Batman and ask him these questions. Go to the GCPD and ask them to turn on the Bat Signal. He might not show up because he's a butt, but it's okay, Jamie, just try again tomorrow night."
"I'm here, Mr. Tippett," Batman said patiently. "What are your questions?"
"What are your questions? You have to find Batman and ask him these questions." Jamie tapped at his tablet screen until an audio recording started. "Mr. Batman, do I have your permission to record this interview?"
"My permission is for an audio-only recording of this interview," Batman said, careful to phrase it in a way that would reduce the chances of tampering. He trusted JoAnn and her people, but it was a good habit to maintain.
"Yes. Yes. One, start the recording. Two, ask Batman permission to record the interview. Three, ask him the questions."
"What are your questions?"
"What are your questions? Ask him all the questions, Jamie. These babies need a home."
"Please start the interview," Batman tried.
"Please start the interview. Introduction: Hello, Batman, I am Jamie Tippett from the Mendez & Holt Law Firm. I am meeting with you regarding the children you rescued from the individual known as the Batman Who Laughs."
"Yes," Batman said, at the same time Jamie started to barrel on down his script without pause, "One-" Jamie blinked in confusion, not having expected a response to the introduction.
"What is your first question?" Batman prompted.
"What is your first question...?"
"What is question number one?" Batman tried.
Jamie's face instantly cleared. "What is question number one, how many children did you take from the Batman Who Laughs?"
"I took three living children and one dead child."
"Two, what are the legal names of these children?"
"The names of the living children are Richard John Grayson of Earth -22, Jason Peter Todd of Earth -22, and Timothy Jackson Drake of Earth -22. I was unable to identify the dead child before I lost access to the body."
"Three, who are the biological parents of each child?"
Batman answered that question and the next, which was about the children's cities of birth. Although there was no way to verify, he assumed the boys' pasts were the same as their counterparts' on Prime Earth, and anyway, it didn't matter since Earth -22 was gone forever.
"Five, what is the world of birth for each child?"
Batman repressed a sigh and reminded himself, 'He can't help it. Be patient.' "All four children are natives of Earth -22."
"Earth -22. Earth -22." Even though Jamie had been repeating the phrase often, only now did he seem to stumble over it. "Earth-Twenty-Two. Earth-Negative-Twenty-Two. Five, what is the world of birth for each child? All four children are natives of Earth -22. All four children are natives of Earth-NEGATIVE-Twenty-Two. All four children are natives of-?"
"Earth-22 and Earth -22 are different worlds. The children are not from Earth-Twenty-Two. The children are from Earth-Negative-Twenty-Two."
"The children are from Earth-Negative-Twenty-Two." Jamie grew increasingly agitated, then suddenly started pacing, seeming short of breath and muttering frantically to himself.
Batman let it go on briefly, then when Jamie showed no signs of slowing, he asked, "What is question number six?"
Jamie instantly calmed. "What is question number six, how many of the parents of these children are alive?"
"Zero."
"Seven, what is the location and contact information for all living parents?"
"There are no living parents. All of the parents of these children are dead and impossible to contact."
Jamie started getting agitated again, but calmed down when Batman gave him Bruce Wayne's phone number so that he had something for the file. He asked for the legal names of the birds' Prime Earth counterparts, then, "Nine, describe how you acquired these children."
"I fought with the Batman Who Laughs. When he was defeated, I took the children off the battlefield and gave them into the care of Bruce Wayne."
"Ten, how long did these children remain in your care?"
"Approximately thirty minutes," Bruce invented.
"Eleven, when the children left your supervision, whose care did they pass into?"
'Be patient.' "Bruce Wayne's."
"Twelve, do you have any recommendations for individuals you would trust to have long-term custody of these children?"
Batman's impulse was to recommend all the legal adults in his family, but he had to be careful here. Certain people might try to discredit his recommendations by finding fault with his choices, such as why he'd listed an overworked seventeen-year-old business executive or an unemployed eighteen-year-old whose lifestyle was so atypical that half of Gotham didn't even know there was a daughter in the Wayne family. "My primary recommendation is Bruce Wayne, and my secondary recommendation is Richard Grayson of Prime Earth."
"Fourteen," said Jamie, who had triskaidekaphobia, "how would you assess Bruce Wayne's suitability as a guardian of the children in question?"
"Bruce Wayne's other children all seem thriving and successful, so I assume he'll do fine with the survivors of Earth -22."
"Fifteen, there is no fifteen, fourteen is the last one, we have reached the end of the list. Ask if he has anything else to add. Mr. Batman, do you have anything else to add?"
"I do not."
"I do not. Do you have anything else to add, I do not. When the interview is finished, stop the recording." Jamie immediately did so, then launched forward with a business card as forcefully as he'd shaken hands. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Batman, please call us if you have any further questions." Without waiting for a response, he turned and marched away. There was a tiny smile on Batman's face just before he vanished off the roof.
TBC
A/N: Ftr, Jamie is almost completely fluent in written communication; it's face-to-face interaction that's more difficult for him.
When I saw the scar on John's face in Breezy's art, I started wondering how it got there, and that's the backstory that eventually came to me...