The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 9 (rough draft)

The minute they were out of the courthouse, Dick whooped with joy and snatched up JoAnn in a bear hug. His siblings burst into delighted chatter, only stopping when Jack, dismayed by the sudden commotion and intense release of emotions, burst into tears. While his siblings comforted him and tried to explain, Bruce took out his phone to tell Alfred the good news, and was surprised to find four texts and missed calls from the butler. Frowning, he pressed the speed-dial button without bothering to check the contents.

"Master Bruce!"

"Alfred, what happened?"

"Were you successful in securing custody of the young masters?" Alfred demanded.

"Yes, yes, Dick has charge of John again and Tim has Jack and I have guardianship of Peter on Jason's behalf," Bruce explained in a rush.

"Oh, thank the Lord."

"We're going to pick up John and Peter right now. Can you make their favorites for dinner?"

"I will indeed, and I will inform Master Jason of the good news at once."

Bruce stiffened in surprise. "You're able to contact Jason?!"

"Did you not receive my messages? Master Jason returned home about an hour ago. He is currently sleeping, but I don't think he will mind being awakened for this."

"Jason's HOME?!" Everyone was now staring at him, shocked and eager.

"Yes, Master Bruce. As I understand, he had something of an adventure, but he has returned safely."

"Let me talk to him!" During the wait, Bruce and his children got into the van where they had some privacy, and he turned on the phone's speaker mode.

A minute later, Jason's voice could be heard, sleepy and grumpy. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to fall asleep? And now you all-"

"JASON!" Dick yelled in delight, and then everyone was talking at once.

"SHUT UP!" Jason yelled when they failed to organize themselves after a full minute. There was scattered laughter, then finally a lull. "Glad to figuratively see you, too, and all that crap. How's Jason 2.0?"

"We will be retrieving him as soon as this call ends," Damian said.

"Retrieving him?"

"You don't know? The kids have been in foster care," Duke said before Bruce could stop him. "It's been a fiasco-"

"The kids are in WHAT?!"

"Not for long," Tim said soothingly. "We got Jack back last night, and we're headed right now to pick up John and Peter. I've got all the paperwork in my bag, we're bringing them home."

"BRUCE WAYNE," Jason thundered. "BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE."

"It was a mistake," Bruce said gruffly, "and we are fixing it. We almost-"

"Where is he?" Jason demanded. "Where is he right now? Where's my kid?"

"We're going to pick him up right now, Jason. We'll certainly get there before you can, so just wait at the manor and-"

"WHERE IS MY FUCKING KID?"

"We're bringing him to you, Jason."

But now Dick was squinting at Bruce suspiciously. "Where is Peter? I can't keep track of all their placements."

There was no way Bruce was going to tell Dick, of all people, where eight-year-old Peter had been sent when all other options had failed. "All of you, take Jack home in the van, you can stop to get John on the way. I've got my own car, so I'll go after Peter-"

"Bruce." Dick was deadly serious. "Where is Peter?"

Tim was already paging through the documents. "Gotham Juvenile Detention Center?!" he cried in dismay.

There were exclamations from the others and explosive swearing from Jason, but Dick's "OH, HELL NO" drowned them all. Bruce barely had time to twitch, the precursor to an attempt to stop him, before Dick had slipped into the driver's seat and violently wrenched the key in the ignition.

"You're scaring Jack, you're scaring Jack," Tim said frantically, and with Duke's help, tumbled out of the vehicle with the terrified little boy. The teens stared at each other as the van peeled away, then Duke shook his head and Tim swore softly, and they started patiently coaxing the child into Bruce's abandoned car.

In the van, Damian, who was closest, struggled to shut the side door. Cassandra shifted closer so that she could heave at it as well, and it banged shut as Dick barreled toward the highway.

"Dick, calm down," Bruce ordered, scrambling to make sure everyone was buckled. "We're getting Peter out regardless of who-"

"SHUT YOUR FACE, OLD MAN."

Bruce stared at him. Then he looked back at Damian, who looked flabbergasted, and Cassandra, who just looked sad. Then he faced forward again and counted down the miles until they reached the detention center.

The place was in chaos, and it took a few minutes for Bruce to figure out why. It was because Jason had somehow gotten there before them, which was only possible if he had stolen some alien tech or magical artifact from the Batcave. He'd stormed through the facility so violently that Dick, Bruce, Cassandra, and Damian merely had to hurry through the exploded husks of doors, following the trail of destruction. They caught up just as Jason, in a nondescript mask and armored suit, hurled aside a couple of staff members and broke through a locked door.

"Jason!"

He completely ignored them, vanishing into the cell. Dick just stood there, staring after him. Bruce arrived at the threshold in time to catch a glimpse of his small, scarred son, white-faced and tiny as he huddled in a corner.

Only extreme or prolonged trauma could cow any version of Jason Todd even temporarily, and Bruce was absolutely furious to see that Peter's long green hair had been cut, leaving only a wildly uneven layer of ginger roots. Someone had forced the already traumatized boy still long enough to wield scissors on him, someone had thought that a haircut was worth terrorizing a child who had reason to fear sharp blades close to his head.

The sight lasted only a moment. Peter, looking stunned, was already reaching his arms up to Jason, who scooped him into an embrace. They clung to each other for a moment like two halves of a whole, and then Jason raised his gun and shot out the window. Peter, face buried in his counterpart's shoulder, barely flinched.

"Jason!" Bruce shouted one last time. Then both of his sons were gone, and it was a long, long time before he had the chance to see or speak to either of them again.

o.o.o.o.o

Bruce filed the kidnapping report numbly, knowing he had to even though both Jasons would never be found if the elder one didn't want them to be. Dick and Damian had already gone after John; only Cassandra remained behind. She now lay a comforting hand on Bruce's arm. "Family break, many times. Fix, many times. We love."

Bruce reached for her slowly, but at her willing warmth in his arms, he tightened the embrace until she was crushed to his body, and he hid his face against her. She was one of the few people he could bear to witness his tears.

"Sssshhh, ssssshhh," she half-sang, managing to get a hand free enough to stroke through his hair.

Across town at Oak Park Children's Home, Dick was furious and panicked. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S NOT HERE?!"

"Mr. Grayson, please! He was supposed to be transferred here, but something unexpected came up and-"

"WHERE'S MY KID?! HE'S NOT AT VIEWRIDGE, HE'S NOT HERE, SO WHERE IS HE?!" Even Damian looked a little frightened at the rage on his face.

They called the children's social worker, but there was no answer, so Dick, along with a helpless-feeling Damian, drove to the agency headquarters and paced in front of Cole Sullivan's office for two hours until the man finally showed up, looking rumpled and weary.

"WHY ARE YOU NOT ANSWERING YOUR PHONE?"

Cole looked terrified. He'd thought Dick Grayson was supposed to be the nice one. "My...! It...!" Unable to formulate words, he fumbled out his phone, which was a wreck. The screen was black and covered with spiderweb cracks radiating from a shredded corner. "I had a bad day..."

"WHERE IS MY SON?"

The instant they got the name of the group home, Dick stormed back out to the van. Damian was the one who looked up the address. Dick drove, grim-faced and fuming, and it was Damian again who alerted the rest of the family and then started looking up reports and records. "Richard. This place. It's not one of Father's. Multiple instances of code violations, police calls, abuse claims, formal complaints-"

Dick stepped on the gas.

"Richard, we won't get there quickly if you're pulled over for speeding!"

Bruce arrived at the facility minutes after Dick. He jumped out and strode up to the building, where he found Damian giving the stubborn-looking director a tongue-lashing, and Dick frantically searching.

"Father! He says they don't have Grayson."

Bruce turned his full Bat Glare on the director.

"We don't have anyone here named John," the man said defiantly, "and I'm calling the police to get you trespassers off my property. You're upsetting the children."

Bruce looked around. The floors were dirty, the walls damaged and badly in need of re-painting, the fixtures and appliances were decades old. The children themselves looked thin and haggard, with haunted expressions on every face that made Bruce's gut feel cold. Whatever hardships these children had endured in their pasts, they looked like they were still living in some sort of nightmare. Not a single one had happy, relaxed, or curious body language. "Thank you for calling the police, you've saved me the trouble." He doublechecked, then called the police for real when he confirmed that the threat had only been a bluff.

Whatever had caused the police to overlook the conditions of the home before, they weren't about to pull the same stunt with the Prince of Gotham looming thunderously over them. The poor state of the building and lack of adequate food and supplies were noted; the children were questioned; half-healed injuries were no longer ignored. Bruce helped his own children and the officers search the home, and was horrified to find that the bedroom doors locked from the outside, that one room had restraints built into the bed, and another foul-smelling room was empty except for copious dark stains smearing the floor and walls.

'Where is John...where is John...where is my son...?!'

Then he came across the shed in the backyard. The one that he needed bolt-cutters to break into. The one with a scuffle trail in the dust that led to a corner, a corner that contained a leash tied to a metal ring in the wall, a leash that had been damaged halfway down by a grimy seven-inch hand saw lying on the floor, all near a breach in the wall where a wooden pane had been pried out of place...

"John!"

To be continued...

A/N: Ftr, Jason's return in the main story is going to be NOTHING like it was here. In this scenario, he's acting as more of a plot device; in the main story, we'll hear why he was gone so long and get a better version of his re-introduction to the birds, etc.

Sorry for the short chapter, but I needed to end it there because there's a significant perspective shift.