*PLEASE READ THIS STORY ON AO3
The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Chapter 25 - Metropolis (part 2)
[rough draft 2]
The doorbell rang and Jon gratefully leaped up to answer it, catching the wallet his father tossed to him. A moment later, a child's frightened, confused wail started in the guest room, and Lois, with Peter on her heels, hurried to soothe Jack. She carried him back into the living room just as Jon was bringing the pizza in and Clark was fetching plates and napkins. "We got two without meat for all our vegetarian friends here," Clark said as he handed a plate to Damian.
"Thank you. Where are the utensils?" the teen asked.
"Uh..." It figured Bruce Wayne's son would eat pizza with utensils. "I'll go get some."
"It's all right, Jackie, see?" Lois crooned, settling back on the floor with the youngest child in her lap. "You're safe, and your brothers are here. Are you hungry?"
Jack clung to her and stared around the apartment as Peter patted him and twittered.
"No more Master?" [warble] twittered back, "No more Master...?"
"No more! Flying and FOOD and bird-games and [pp'IT'sssa]!" [caw] cheered.
"[chirp-chirp]?"
[chirp-chirp] viciously turned his back.
"[chirp-chirp] mad," [caw] explained, unconcerned. "Waiting for Bat."
"I can't fly," [warble] whimpered. He was still so weak and tired.
"[chirp-chirp] kill Bat before he hurts you. Safe."
[warble] would have kept worrying, but the lady was offering him food and it smelled good, so he ate it and he forgot to be scared.
The game eventually got underway. Peter and Damian fought because one insisted on creating his own rules and the other was taking the rules in the instruction booklet (which none of the Kents had ever actually read) way too seriously, and Damian only conceded when Jon made an offhand comment about his brotherly skills.
Jack, still curled in Lois's lap, refused to physically engage, but he did watch avidly and got upset if anyone ever forgot to roll for him and move his game piece. John lay on the floor trying to rip out bits of the carpet. Clark soon gave him an old magazine to tear up instead. It was distressing that John barely ate, but Damian seemed to be pleased and relieved every time the child absently reached for a chunk of the pizza Clark had cut up for him, as if those tiny bites were an improvement.
Things had calmed down by the end of the game (Jack won). Everyone cleaned up, then Lois suggested that she take Peter for a walk around the apartment building while the older boys did their homework.
"I do not have homework," Damian said loftily.
Jon frowned, having overheard Bruce and Alfred's instructions to Damian back at the manor. "I thought your dad said that all your work had to be finished before you came home."
"Those research papers are assignments from Pennyworth, not from some substandard excuse for an educational institution."
Jon rolled his eyes. "Fine, I can work on homework and you can work on assignments from Pennyworth together."
"The suggestion that you could ever be useful in a collaborative-"
"Just get your laptop, Damian!"
Lois, as instructed in the Robin Manual, covered Peter with a hat and sunglasses before taking him out. Clark put Jack back to bed when he found that the child had fallen asleep again, and came out to find John over by the window wall. The boy was kneeling right next to it, eyes on the endless stream of cars, arms and forehead pressed against the glass like he wished he could tip straight through it and down to the street many floors below.
"Johnny," Clark said, his voice soft and cautious as he crouched beside the boy, "is there...anything I can get you, or do for you? Is there anything you want?"
John completely ignored him, so after a few minutes, Clark gave up and brought over his tablet to work on, trying to fight the niggling feeling that a nine-year-old non-meta could somehow break through thick, reinforced windows and fling himself to his death. 'That's impossible, Kent, and even IF he did, you would catch him. It's fine. Do not pick him up and hide him in a back room bundled up in fifty-two blankets, he will not appreciate it.'
The afternoon passed quietly. While the older boys worked, the adults took turns playing with Peter (who was delightful) and keeping watch over John (not so much), who kept his eyes on the streets of Metropolis. Jack eventually woke up again and nested on the couch, where Peter petted him and brought interesting things to show him, and then started 'reading' books to him in bird language. At one point, when all other attempts to engage with John had failed, Clark tried to enlist the younger birds' help in getting him away from the window, but neither boy would even speak to their brother, as if they already knew any attempt would be useless.
Clark was pretty sure that John fell asleep after he curled up on the floor, but when Clark made the mistake of trying to move him to a bed, the boy instantly awakened and struggled until he was allowed to plaster himself to the window again. "...This is harder than I thought it would be," Clark muttered. Not physically, but emotionally. There was something exhausting about caring for someone in such pain and being powerless to soothe it.
At one point, when Peter asked to use the toilet, it occurred to Lois that John probably needed to go, too, even though he'd never indicated the need. Clark had to maneuver him in the bathroom, and boy was that awkward, though John himself showed no sign of embarrassment. He was plenty angry, though, snarling and crowing and scratching, going silent only during the actual act of urinating. The minute he was released from the bathroom, he ran to the window to be a gargoyle again.
Damian sat with John and Jack while Peter helped the Kents prepare dinner. John picked that time to lie down and fall asleep. No one dared wake him, so they covered him with a blanket and set aside a plate of food for him.
Later, when Lois started to run a bath for Peter, he looked around the room in confusion. "Gone!"
"What's gone, sweetie?"
He pointed at the wall opposite the tub. There was nothing there but a decorative picture and a towel rack.
"Did you forget something at home?"
"Me [chirp-chirp] bath, [warble] shower."
As Lois was trying to remember which brother was the chirp one and which was the warble one, Damian leaned into the bathroom. "Listen, Todd, this is a plebeian bathing room. They cannot afford a decent size or a full range of equipment, so they are forced to use only one combined tub and shower. You can only wash one way or the other at a time."
Peter made a long, thoughtful whistle as he looked around again.
"We can't all live in mansions," Lois said dryly.
Since the children needed to be accompanied at all times, the older boys didn't want to be separated, and the adults didn't feel comfortable sleeping apart from their delicate younger charges, the furniture was re-arranged so that everyone could spend the night in the living room. The floor was covered with an assortment of mattresses and piles of blankets and pillows; everyone lounged around in their sleepwear to eat snacks and marathon all the hilariously bad superhero movies that had been made over the years (excluding all the ones containing Batman).
By about 11:00, everyone was asleep except for Damian, who was idly sketching as a Green Lantern movie from the '90s played on low volume. Clark signed a quick explanation to Damian, kissed Lois, then went to go change - Batman was roaming Metropolis tonight, and it seemed prudent to check on how he was treating Clark's city. Batman had a tendency to overdo it when he was upset, and Superman didn't want to see small-time criminals crippled for life or otherwise punished too harshly. This wasn't Gotham, not much activity here warranted the wrath of a wounded and frustrated Dark Knight.
It was a clear night, and quiet this far above the streets. Superman flew leisurely, searching for bat-shaped shadows or grapple-swinging figures. It took him fifteen minutes, he even stopped at fast food restaurant at one point, but he finally found his friend perched like a gargoyle on an office building a couple of blocks away from the Daily Planet. "You really do look like a Creature Of The Night when you pose like that."
"...I know," Batman answered in his gravelly on-the-clock voice, not bothering to spare a glance at the newcomer. He did, however, look down at the paper bag Superman dropped at his feet. He said nothing, half his face was covered by the cowl, his mouth barely even twitched, yet his silent stillness managed to be expressive.
"I only said I was getting it for 'a friend,' but she knew it was probably someone from the Justice League. She gave me one of each toy to pass along." Superman dug through his bag until he pulled out the plastic Batman figurine, and smiled at it fondly. "There was a group of teenagers at a table nearby, they placed bets on which 'friend' it was. Half of them guessed right. They told me to tell you that they think you're really cool, even though Superman's better."
"In Gotham, they have a toy for every Bat," Bruce grumbled. "Damian's collected all of them."
"I bet you have, too."
"I need to check the likenesses. Investigation is warranted if they're too accurate."
"Uh huh."
They were silent as they ate. Clark made it almost halfway through his burger before he heard the siren of an emergency vehicle start up. "Race you there?"
Batman soared off without even bothering to acknowledge. Clark had no idea how he managed to store the bag so quickly, but he didn't throw it away, because half an hour later he was giving it, along with the second burger and fries it contained, to a homeless man. A surreptitious x-ray glance revealed that the toys had been stored in Batman's utility belt. Superman just barely managed to hide his smile.
o.o.o
There were no catastrophes, but the two heroes were kept busy with a steady string of smaller events that could do with their attention. Batman apparently intended to stay out all night, but Superman returned home at about 1:30. He checked in on everyone and turned off the TV (Damian was asleep now, too) and then took a quick shower. While he was buttoning his pajama top, his phone lit up with notice of an incoming call.
"How are the boys?" Bruce asked in a low voice.
"They've been doing okay. Johnny is...not happy, but Peter seems to be enjoying himself. Jack's been sleeping a lot."
"Elaborate."
Clark dutifully gave a detailed report. At the end of it, he asked hesitantly, "Bruce, the withdrawal and the anger, the...just...the way Johnny's been today, is that what you've been dealing with all this time?"
"...He's never going to get better, is he." Batman's voice was full of despair and resignation.
"Bruce, no," Clark said at once. "Bruce. This kid was tortured for months, and it takes far longer to heal than to hurt. He's... I know it's going to be tough, maybe for years to come, but he will get better. You can't give up-"
He nearly dropped the phone at the sound of Joker laughter suddenly bursting through the apartment, soon joined by terrified screams, urgent crowing, and alarmed shouting. Clark sprinted to the living room to find John standing naked by the window, laughing violently, not pausing even when he lashed out every time Damian or Lois tried to get near. Jack looked scared to death and was clutching his stuffed bear tightly as Peter covered him with his body and crowed. Jon looked petrified.
"What happened?!" Clark cried, unable to see any threat. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around John, the boy's vicious retaliation having no effect on him.
"I don't know!" Lois said in distress.
Clark stood there helplessly, holding the screaming, writhing boy in his arms. "Damian?!"
"I have no explanation," the teen snarled. He sounded angry, but his heart was beating in a frightened pattern. "Grayson, be QUIET! No one's hurting you!"
It seemed to go on endlessly, still with no sign of any trigger. Jack was sobbing now, Peter clamped on him like a little human shield. Jon had crouched down and was desperately covering his ears, eyes squeezed shut and lips moving as he chanted to himself. Clark had no idea what to do.
[*censored because FFN is stupid*]
He had never ended the call on his phone, which he had unthinkingly deposited on the arm of the couch when he rushed in. Lois scrambled to grab it and bring it closer, putting it on speaker.
[*censored because FFN is stupid*]
The laughter and struggling had stopped. John was crying now as he clung to Clark, his voice wailing high and soft in a way that made it easier to hear the singing. As if to compensate for his efforts to quiet himself, his body began to shudder. Clark held him close with one arm and used the other to try to cover him better with the blanket.
The singing went on, going through the lyrics again as the boys slowly calmed down. [*censored because FFN is stupid*]
By the time of the gentle humming of a third round, Clark was feeling almost hopeful as he cradled the limp, exhausted child in his arms. Lois was starting to relax, continuing to hold the phone as she sat down beside her husband. Across the room, Peter was nestled under Damian's arm and Jack in his lap; Jon had sat down behind Damian and was hugging his knees as he pressed his back against his friend's.
By the time the song ended, it was quiet again. There was a long pause.
Peter raised his head and demanded, with a small quaver in his voice, "Bbee E'wwozzah."
"...Bee Arrows?"
Peter whistled demonstratively, and there was a quiet groan from the phone.
"I can't sing that one right now. What about-?"
"BBEE WWOZZAH, BBA'D MMAN."
John made a long, soft shrieking sound that threatened to turn into an outright scream soon.
[*censored because FFN is stupid*]
Even after the birds were all asleep and the phone had gone dark, Clark did not dare lay John down. He continued to hold the child, rocking him slightly, praying he would not wake up and start that awful laughter again.
Jon's voice was subdued. "Who was that singing?"
"No one," Damian said immediately.
"What?"
"Ssshh," Clark said. "Don't wake the kids."
Jon rubbed a fist across his face. "Hey, Mom...I forgot to brush my teeth, and I'm out of toothpaste. Can you help me, um...?"
"Of course."
Jon headed for the master bathroom in his parents' suite rather than the one in the hall, and as soon as they reached it, he tugged his mother all the way inside and shut the door. Lois, figuring that this wasn't actually about toothpaste, stroked her hand down his hair and back soothingly.
Jon sounded near tears again when he spoke. "Mom...wh-why are they like that? I've never seen- It's scary. Mom, what's wrong with him?"
"Oh, baby." Lois put her arms around her son, and he clung to her tightly. "I'm sorry they scared you," she said softly.
"Damian said he tries to find ways to kill himself!" He was starting to sob. "Why would he-? He's only a kid, I thought only older people did that! Why does he want to die, Mom?! Who would- All those scars on him, how could anyone ever want to hurt a kid like that? He's so little! Why, Mom? Why?!"
Jon cried for a long time, and Lois held him tightly until the sobs finally turned to sniffles. "Sometimes people get so sick, even evil, they do things I don't understand, either," she murmured. "Some people are hurt so badly that we don't know how to help them anymore. Sometimes all we can do is let them know that we care about them and they're not alone."
She kissed the top of his head. "I'm proud of you, kiddo, for letting the little ones stay here. I'm proud of you for doing your best to make them feel safe and welcome. They may not be able to show it now, but someday they'll remember how you kind you were to them, and even if they never tell you that it made a difference, it really does. You're doing good, Jonathan."
He sucked in a shaky breath and pulled away slightly. "Damian would never cry just because a kid did a scary laugh for a while."
"You are not Damian, and you know he was upset, he just has a different way of showing it than you do." She ran her hand through his hair. "Jon, I'm glad that you got to grow up with us, so we could love you and keep you safe. You know how to pay it forward to those who weren't so lucky."
"I bet Johnny feels a lot worse than I do," Jon said softly. "And he doesn't get to leave it behind after the weekend, he has to live with it all the time. I wanna help him, but I don't want to mess up and make him mad, or make him feel even worse on accident."
"Just do your best, kiddo. It's okay if you make a mistake; I know your heart is in the right place, and that's the most important part."
Jon nodded. He hugged his mother one last time, then they went back out to the living room.
"Dad," Jon asked, too softly for human ears to detect, "how do you say 'I love you and I want you to feel better' in sign language?"
Clark did his best to demonstrate with just one hand. Jon repeated it carefully to the sleeping John, then went to curl up on a mattress so that the two younger birds were sheltered between his body and Damian's.
"I love you," Lois signed to Clark.
"Forever," he signed back.
TBC