The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 1 (rough draft)

A/N: In the main story, the birds' legal status has not been finalized yet, but it has been here.

o.o.o

Bruce's ideal social worker was Jennifer Yang, who had no life outside her job because she ate, slept, and breathed her mission of getting as many children as possible into the best family care.

Unfortunately for Bruce, her caseload was even larger than most of her overworked associates', and she would not be swayed by money. "Mr. Wayne," she told him over the phone, "while I deeply appreciate everything you have done for the children of this city, if I took on your children's case, others would suffer. I know you have the resources to make sure your kids are taken care of. I'm sorry I can't help you."

"I understand," he said reluctantly.

The social worker who ended up assigned to John, Peter, and Jack was Lydia Trellis. Bruce researched her extensively, and although she wasn't his ideal choice, she knew ASL and wasn't involved in any shady dealings and she had a decent track record with the children on her watch. On her first visit, the boys, while not exactly warm toward her, didn't seem to dislike her, and she was able to get the younger two engaged in a game.

"They seem to be behaving themselves pretty well right now. What is it that triggers the violent episodes and self-harm?"

"I'm hoping that just a fresh environment and different caregivers will help with the anxiety. They do better with my older children and my butler than they do with me - or, Jack actually got along quite well with me until his brothers convinced him that I'm the Man Who Laughs. The self-harm is a pretty recent development and seems like a reaction to stress, so I'm hoping that will sort itself out if Jack feels more secure. Peter seems to have the least anxiety, but he does tend to throw...tantrums, when he's upset. John...John is the one I'm worried about the most. He..." Bruce trailed off, trying to think of a way to express his concern objectively. "He's just so unhappy, he feels like he'd be better off dead than alive. I just want...I want him to be happy. I want him to...to want to live."

"Has he seen a psychiatrist?"

"Yes." Bruce felt like it was better not to elaborate on that fiasco. "Medication didn't work, so we decided to try other options. I really think that if he finds a home he feels safe in, the suicidal feelings will dissipate."

"Why does he not feel safe here?" she asked sharply.

Bruce tried not to let his offense show. "He is absolutely safe here, he just doesn't feel safe because he thinks that I'm the person who Jokerized him. No matter how many times we explain that his abuser is dead and he's in a new home now, he simply won't believe us. If you can convince him, I'd be very grateful."

"John," Lydia called.

No response.

"John, come here." After a while, she went over to crouch beside him. "John, honey, I want to ask you a question. Did someone hurt you?"

His eyes flickered, then focused on her a little disdainfully.

"These scars, honey," she said, lightly touching his neck. "Who did this to you?"

There was a long pause. "...Bad Laugh Man."

"'Bad Laugh Man'? Who is that?"

John bared his teeth a little and pointed at Bruce, who tried not to tense.

"Bruce? Bruce made this scar here, from the collar you wore?"

"Neck hurt."

"Does you neck hurt right now, or did it hurt back then?"

"Tight. Ha ha ha ha ha."

"Let me see, honey." She gently guided his head, watching him for any indication of pain. He looked, if anything, a little bored the whole time. "How does that feel?"

He didn't answer.

"So it hurt back then, in the past, right? Did Bruce ever hurt you after the collar came off?"

"Kill me."

"He tried to kill you?" she asked skeptically.

Bruce couldn't describe what he saw in John's face, but he suddenly detected a change and leaped up. It was too late, however; John was now snarling and clawing at Lydia, who was shrieking as she tried to fend him off. Bruce managed to pry John off of her and get him into a restraining hold. Then he just knelt there and waited it out, holding the furious boy as Lydia shakily straightened herself up.

At last, John went still and quiet. "John, I am going to let go. If you try to hurt anyone, I will hold you again. Do not hurt people." Bruce cautiously let go, and John scrambled to hide behind the couch.

Bruce finally looked at Lydia, who made a face. "I see."

"I want him to go to foster parents who are experienced," Bruce said quickly. "People who won't be intimidated by him or overreact, and obviously people who won't respond to violence with violence."

"We'll take care of him," Lydia said confidently. "Don't worry, I've had kids like him before. We'll find parents who know what to do."

Bruce didn't feel reassured by this, but couldn't think of any specific concern to voice. The visit ended soon after that, and he was left with an excess of anxious energy that he went to work off in the Batcave.

Over the next few days, Lydia worked to secure a foster home for the boys, and Bruce, who had insisted that they be placed together, shamelessly spied on the proceedings. Many potential foster parents declined when they realized that the children were the Jokerized, bloody-fanged monstrosities from the news stories of the apocalypse. Some were willing to take one of the boys, but not all three. One couple agreed at first, but then tearfully turned down John and Jack when they learned of the suicidal tendencies and self-harm, having had tragic past experience with their biological child. One couple backed out when they learned that the boys communicated partially in sign language, even after being told that the children could hear. In the end, no placement was found for all three brothers.

Bruce sat staring at the Batcomputer. The sound of footsteps rapidly approached, and he looked over to see Tim. He had thought that his son was working on a Bat project, but from the look on his face, Bruce could tell that the young man had been listening in on the same phone call Bruce had just overheard.

"I'm not letting Gotham take him," Tim said flatly.

"...What's your plan?"

Tim turned away, making a call on his cell.

"Mendez & Holt, how may I help you?" a chipper voice asked.

"Hi, April. It's Tim Drake."

"Mr. Drake, hi! What's up?"

"What's up is that I need to adopt Jack."

"Whaaaat?!" she exclaimed in dismay. "But you said you wanted to be designated his brother!"

"His emancipated brother. He's not doing well with Bruce, and I'm not letting him go into foster care if he's going to be split from the other kids, so I'm taking him."

"Hmmmm. There's no precedent for this and you're super-rich, so we can probably get it done, but it's going to take a little time, Mr. Drake."

Tim was silent for a moment, dismayed. "...How much time?"

"Can't tell at this point; obviously I gotta fill in JoAnn. Ooohh, she's going to be so mad!"

"Just...get me Jack as soon as possible, I've got a bad feeling about this."

As soon as Tim hung up, Bruce called Dick, who'd been hiding in Blüdhaven. "Dick, no one can take all three birds."

Dick swore explosively. "I...I can't-!"

"I know you don't feel capable of raising children right now, Dick, but I'm just letting you know, if you don't take John, he is going to be alone in the foster system."

"...I'm coming to Gotham. I'm assuming you're going to wire up all the placement homes with surveillance?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Tim snorted in the background.

A few hours later, Lydia called to break the news officially. "Mr. Wayne, I've got some news you're not going to like..."

Trying to tell the children was awful. "Boys," Bruce said gently, crouching down in front of the children who were cowering away from him, "I know you are very unhappy and frightened here, so...I found a way for you to leave."

They stared at him.

"The problem is...you can only leave this house if the three of you separate. You're going to go to different homes. Jack, Tim wants you to live with him, but you have to live somewhere else for a little while until he is allowed to take you. In the meantime..." He couldn't continue, because John and Jack were crying now, and he couldn't speak without crying, too.

The night before the boys' departure, the whole family gathered for a miserable final meal together. No one spoke much, except for Peter whispering his morsel requests to Dick as if they were secrets. Jack, also clinging to his oldest brother, avoided his own plate but stole liberally off of Dick's. John resisted all attempts to get him to eat, fixing Bruce with an intensely malevolent gaze that the man attempted to ignore.

"Dick," Dick finally snapped, fed up, "Mama wants you to eat. Mom will be very sad if you don't eat."

After a long pause, John, with his eyes still fixed on Bruce, lowered his chin to the tabletop and slowly pushed food into his mouth. He chewed as if he imagined it was Laughs's bones he was crunching between his teeth. After a few bites, he stood up and started making his way over to Bruce.

"No," Cassandra said in alarm. "Do not-"

Bruce pushed his chair back from the table, raising his arms in a defensive way without thinking, right when John suddenly broke into a run and flew at him. They grappled for a minute, John screaming as he attempted to tear out the man's eyes and Bruce struggling to protect himself and get John under control.

For a while, no one knew what to do - Bruce could not look at his family as he kept John pinned to the floor; the boy shrieked and crowed as if he was still a Jokerized monster skittering at the feet of the Batman Who Laughs, with Cassandra's attempts to soothe him having no effect. Tim was long gone, having taken Jack with him. Dick was holding back Peter, who was struggling furiously to rescue his older flockmate, and simultaneously trying to comfort Damian, who was nearly crying as he shouted for the birds to calm down and be reasonable. Duke and Alfred, both feeling distressed and useless, started cleaning up just to have something to do.

John finally went quiet when he fell into his passive-aggressive zombie state. Cassandra gathered him into her arms, and Bruce headed straight for the cave.

Everyone got up earlier than usual the next morning, red-eyed and downhearted. Tim held Jack for several long minutes before finally managing to pull away and go to work. Bruce paced the manor restlessly; Cassandra and Duke kept the birds occupied as Alfred, occasionally having to stop to clear his eyes, finished packing the last of their things.

Damian, hugging Titus, watched as Dick paced around and around his room, waiting for the call to connect. "Lydia - it's Dick Grayson. I tried to call you last night, but you weren't answering."

"I'm sorry, Dick, I had a lot going on last night. I'll be at the manor in an hour or so, can it wait until then?"

"No, because you don't need to come to the manor at all. I'm taking them - John, Peter, and Jack, I'm taking them to Blüdhaven with me. My sister and brother are coming to help me look after them. You don't need to come, they're not going into foster care."

"...Mr. Grayson, this isn't the sort of decision you can make last-minute."

"John is mine! He is LEGALLY my son-!"

"And you signed papers stating that you cannot care for him-"

"But I didn't give up my parental rights, and now I can take care of him!"

"You're unemployed, Mr. Grayson."

"I still have money!" Dick shouted. For the children's sake, he had swallowed his pride and agreed to let Bruce completely finance whatever parts of the birds' upbringing Dick himself couldn't afford. "I can show you my bank statements! I can take care of them now, I have help, they don't need to go into foster care!"

"Look, Mr. Grayson, you can start proceedings to regain sole custody of John if you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you do not currently have proof that you can meet all his needs - I am especially concerned about his mental health - and you have no say in what happens to the younger children."

Dick was speechless for a moment.

"If that's all, Mr. Grayson, I'll see you-"

"No. NO. Those kids do not belong in foster care, and I'm not letting you take them."

"Mr. Grayson, I'd hate to have to get the police involved, or for you to do anything that would hurt your chances of getting John back."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I am trying to help you. I'll be HAPPY help you get sole custody of John, but like I said, that is not going to happen today, and he will be safe until you're able to prove your ability to raise him. I want what's best for these children, Mr. Gr-"

Dick hung up, hurled his phone at the bed, bellowed so loudly that he frightened Titus, then sat down heavily and buried his hands in his hair.

"...If you'd like me to abduct the children in a way that can't be traced back to you," Damian offered, "I can-"

"No, Dami," Dick said thickly. "Let's just...let's just see if this is a decent placement, first. Not all foster homes are bad, maybe the kids will have more freaking luck than I did..."

To be continued...

A/N: When April said there's no precedent, she meant for the "emancipated seventeen-year-old wants to adopt his younger alternate universe self" situation.