The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 25 - Metropolis (part 1)
[rough draft 2]
The next morning, since Bruce would do more harm than good if he involved himself in the birds' departure, he opted to drive Damian and all the luggage to Metropolis instead. Since the children still couldn't tolerate seatbelts and no one was going to make them try in their current high-strung state, Clark had enlisted the help of his son and his cousin to transport the birds in a hopefully less traumatic fashion.
"Bruce has more babies?!" Kara exclaimed in delight, gently brushing Jack's hair out of his face. He gazed up at her, half-apprehensive and half-hopeful. "They're so cute!"
"Hi, Peter," Jon greeted, holding up his hand for a high-five. Peter grinned wildly, crouched, then leaped up to slap his hand against the older boy's. Jon barely managed to roll with the strike in time so that the child wouldn't injure himself on half-Kryptonian flesh.
"Johnny," Clark said gently. John continued to stroke a feather against the glass of the window and did not acknowledge him. "You ready to leave soon?"
"..."
"You and your brothers are going to come visit my family for a couple of days."
John eyed him, then after a long moment, he asked, "Leave here?"
"For two days, yes. After that...I really don't know what's going to happen, but hopefully you'll feel better in a different house."
"...Batman."
"Batman's going to stay here. You and Peter and Jack and Damian will come visit me for two days."
"Two days. Three days, die."
"No!" Clark gasped, startled. He was starting to realize why Bruce was so upset. "No, Johnny. No one is going to die. I'm Superman, and it's my job to protect you and keep you safe, you and all your brothers. I won't let anything bad happen to you, all right?"
John looked away dismissively and resumed tapping his feather against the glass, ignoring all other attempts at communication.
Since Peter was in the best shape, Jon was assigned to carry him. Jack was feeling better but hadn't completely recovered from his illness yet, so Kara bundled him up and lifted him carefully. Superman himself picked up John, the apathetic child feeling tiny and fragile in his arms.
Alfred, Cassandra, Duke, and Wally came out to the terrace to say goodbye, but there was little fanfare as the Kryptonians rose into the air and flew off. The commotion came from the children themselves - Peter shrieked in surprise and clung to Jon like a monkey; Jack squealed and wriggled anxiously in his blankets, but Kara murmured to him and flew slowly, and he settled down. The boys peered around in wonder, Peter excitedly pointing and yelling.
John looked shocked. He stared down at the ground as it got more and more distant, unable to tear his eyes away until Superman's flight had evened out for several minutes. Unlike his brothers, the oldest boy did not cling; once he had gotten over his surprise, he stirred restlessly, making no attempt to secure himself. He tried to climb over the Kryptonian's shoulder several times, making soft noises of frustration when Clark nervously tightened his grip. John finally gave up escaping the hold and just leaned back as far as he could, head and arms dangling.
"Just hold on, buddy, we'll be there soon," Clark said, disturbed by the distinct sense that John wasn't bothering to hold onto him, not out of trust, but rather a complete lack of care for his own life and safety. In response to the reassurance, John simply closed his eyes.
"BBBIR'DDIE!" Peter screamed in excitement, jabbing his finger at a couple of much smaller soaring figures nearby.
"Ack, Peter!"
Lois was on the balcony of their Metropolis apartment when they arrived, shading her eyes against the sun. She smiled when her family came touching down lightly next to her. "How was it?" she asked, leaning in to briefly kiss her husband and ruffle her son's hair.
"He's so wriggly!" Jon gasped, gratefully setting down his burden. "I was scared I was gonna drop 'im!"
"Good thing you didn't, Bruce would have skinned me alive," Clark said, gently setting his own precious cargo on the floor. John remained where he'd been placed like a doll, barely even looking at his new surroundings.
"Do you have somewhere this little guy can lie down?" Supergirl asked, nodding toward Jack, who'd fallen asleep in her arms.
"Through here," Lois said, starting to lead the way to the guest room.
"Mom, is Damian here yet?" Jon asked hopefully, following Peter as the little boy eagerly started to explore the apartment.
"Why would he be?" Lois laughed. "You fly much faster than a car."
"Yeah, but they're Batman and Robin, they like to show off and pop up out of nowhere!"
"Not this time, kiddo. Don't worry, he'll get here soon enough."
Clark, left alone on the balcony, stared down at John. "You want me to show you around, buddy?"
No response.
"Are you hungry? Thirsty? Would you like some lemonade, Johnny?"
John slowly stood up. He walked to the edge of the balcony, took hold of the railing, and started to hoist himself up.
"Whoa!" Clark grabbed the child, trying not to squeeze him too hard in his panic. "Oh my God, let's get you inside, we are going to be keeping the sliding door locked all weekend, oh my God...!" Not knowing what else to do, he set John on the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he found a cartoon. After a minute, John sank down to curl into a corner of the couch, eyes dull as he looked at the TV, thumb slipping into his mouth.
Clark, having been verbally warned about the harmful thumb-sucking (it was also in the forty-page 'How to take care of my babies' manual Bruce had given him three copies of and forced him to read earlier that morning), knew he needed a chew fidget, but unlike Jack, John didn't have one already hanging around his neck, and the backups were still en route with Bruce and Damian. Although John was sucking, not chewing, his teeth were so sharp that he was still making small cuts on his thumb, so Clark grabbed a silicone cooking spoon from the kitchen for John to use instead. The boy tried to push him away a few times, but finally grumbled and closed his mouth on the utensil.
Clark exhaled, already wondering what he'd gotten himself into, and looked up. Lois and Kara were coming back down the hall and Jon was smiling as he showed Peter a Rubik's Cube. "You twist it until all the colors are matched together, see? Damian's a lot faster at it than I am, but I've got three blue squares so far!"
Kara paused to clap her cousin's shoulder. "Well, I guess I'll be taking off, Clark. See you Sunday?"
"Yes. Thank you again, Kara."
She smiled. "My pleasure. Tell Jack I hope he feels better soon."
After she had taken off from the balcony, Clark firmly closed the sliding door and told his wife and son, "Lois, Jon, we're going to need to keep this door shut and locked tight, okay? Earlier, Johnny tried to...um..." He wasn't ready to have a talk about suicide with his cheerful, innocent ten-year-old yet, particularly within earshot of the suicidal child in question. "That is, the balcony is very unsafe for the children, so let's just keep them away from it altogether, okay?"
"Don't worry, Dad, I won't let them go out there by themselves. I'll catch them if they fall."
"No, Jon, I mean I really need you to not let them anywhere near there, particularly Johnny, ever. I mean it, pal."
Jon frowned in confusion at the serious urgency in his father's tone, but said, "Okay, Dad."
Lois caught her husband's eye, and Clark mouthed "Later" at her.
When the car arrived, Bruce stayed downstairs, so Clark and Jon took all the luggage and accompanied Damian back up to the apartment. The thirteen-year-old was on crutches now, sweating a bit but giving no other indication of pain as he hauled himself out of the elevator and continued to argue amiably with his friend. "I'm just saying that I could have beat you here if I was driving and had no civilian cover to maintain."
"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that, Damian."
Peter, who was enthusiastically snacking in the kitchen, yelled "DdAmmi~!" when the front door opened and ran to hug his big brother.
Damian looked pleasantly surprised. "Hello, Todd."
"Da ccarrro't an' ccerry an' ppeebah!"
"Todd." Damian leaned close to get his attention, and the boy stared back. "Ce-le-ry," Damian enunciated clearly.
"Cce-wuh-wy."
"Ce."
"Cce."
"Lle."
"Ullleh."
"Rrry."
"Wwy."
"Rrrrrry."
"Wwwwrrr!"
They went through it again with 'peanut butter,' until Peter had gotten his pronunciation reasonably correct. "Good job," Damian praised in a businesslike tone.
"Ggoo'd jjob, Ppe'tah!" Peter held out his hand expectantly.
"I'm not going to give you a treat, you have treats!" Damian exclaimed in exasperation, pointing at the array of carrots, celery, and peanut butter on the kitchen table.
"Ppeebah!" Peter yelled at him defiantly, then galloped back to finish his snack.
Damian looked around the apartment. "What is wrong with you, this is completely unacceptable!" he exclaimed, startling the fondly watching Kents into mild alarm. Damian crutched himself over to a mirrored table by the wall, on which was a set of three vases. "You'll need to put away anything breakable for the duration of the children's stay, particularly if it has no practical use; all cords need to be bundled up and covered, preferably unplugged and put away if the device won't be used this weekend; all sharp cookware- My God, you don't even have child safety locks on any cabinets! What is wrong with you, didn't Father tell you Grayson is a suicide risk?!"
"A what risk?!" Jon yelped, he and his parents already scurrying around to obey.
After the apartment had been reasonably bird-proofed, Damian had checked on the still-sleeping Jack, and Peter had finished eating, Clark cautiously suggested a board game, hoping that would be a good way to test the waters.
Peter was as energetic and cheerfully curious as he remembered, but John showed zero interest, not even in the cartoon - he didn't protest or resist when Clark moved him from the couch to the floor by the game, and wouldn't grasp the game piece they attempted to give him.
"Grayson." Damian took hold of his face with one hand and scrutinized it. After a moment, John's eyes narrowed in a mild glare. Damian released him. "I don't know if it's worse or better when he goes so passive even when not dissociating."
"What's disso-?" Jon started to ask, his tone timid as if he knew he wouldn't like the answer.
"Batman," John signed. Lois, who knew the alphabet and a few words but wasn't fluent, and Jon, who knew no ASL at all, were wearing universal translators that the League usually used when traveling to other planets, so everyone understood.
"He's not here, Joh-"
"Two days, then Batman."
Everyone exchanged a look (except Peter, who'd started arranging everyone's game pieces on the board according to whatever rules he was in the process of making up). "Johnny," Clark asked slowly, "if Batman were to go away forever, what would you like to do? Where would you like to live?"
"Batman die, I die."
"No, if you were alive, but Batman was gone forever. What would you do then?"
"Stupid! Batman die, I die, brothers fly away happy."
Clark could definitely see why Bruce had been so upset. "Johnny, I am not going to let you die. I will protect you and your brothers from anything that tries to hurt you. We just want to know what we can do to make you feel safe."
The child's only response was to spread his mouth in a slow Joker smile. Jon shuddered and looked away.
"Stop scaring the big people, I want to play the game," [caw] twittered impatiently.
"Very much so stupid big people," [chirp-chirp] muttered. He had seen the big S and the little S and the W and all the others in Master's cave, stained with old blood. He had heard Master brag. Master liked to let new people come, over and over again, because the fun part was making them scream and cry and beg before he killed them. New Superman would die like Old Superman because Master was strongest of all, but instead of flying away safe, New Superman told birds he would protect them.
[chirp-chirp]'s big people in the circus had never been this stupid, but Master had killed all the smart ones, and now he was killing the stupid ones. [chirp-chirp] wished wished wished he didn't have to watch, that Master would stop saving him for last.
TBC