The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Requested ending (rough draft)
For Cdelphiki & SorrelStar
A/N: OKAY, SO, since this is apparently what multiple people were expecting, here is the fanservice ending, as an apology for the actual ending. X'''D
o.o.o
Joker's men, well-accustomed to what the sound meant, were up and shooting even before the first pieces of shattered glass hit the floor. Batman might as well have been bulletproof for all the good it did them. He had all the ones with guns disarmed in seconds, with Nightwing venting his rage on the rest, Robin almost primly mopping up the few goons that remained, and Red Robin viciously subduing Joker with Orphan's help.
John stared, not quite processing what he was seeing. Flock. That big kind flock. So FURIOUS now but it was protection-fury, beating all the evil ones and making them be good... He was chirping without meaning to, little noises of relief and of the distress that he was finally allowing himself to feel.
"Johnny, Johnny, come here, baby, come here, precious bird..." [big chirp-chirp] scooping him out of the cage, cuddling and nuzzling him, it felt so, so good. [chirp-chirp] didn't know why he was crying, because he was so happy to be in his flockmate's warm, safe arms.
"This is ludicrous, he's not a baby!" Robin exclaimed in indignation, glaring at the toy-filled playpen his little brother had been kept in.
"At least he wasn't restrained," Red Robin said shortly, checking over the child's neck and wrists and feet, relieved to find no chafe marks except for mild ones where, presumably, a collar had been.
"Love you," Orphan practically purred, brushing her face against John's over Nightwing's shoulder. "Love you, love you, love you..."
"Love you so much, too," he crooned back.
Batman, straining to listen to the reunion even as he busied himself with securing all the criminals for the GCPD, felt a bittersweet ache in his heart. John was safe. That was all that mattered.
"I'm taking him to the car," Nightwing said. "Can you drive?" he asked, looking at Red Robin.
"Of course."
"Go out the back way," Batman hissed, retreating when he realized they were heading in his direction. "Don't let him see me." The Dark Knight was last thing John needed to see after his ordeal.
"Oh, crap- Robin, back up," Nightwing said, trying not to step on Robin's boots as he hurriedly reversed.
John cried out.
"It's okay, it's okay, baby bird," Nightwing shushed, wanting to kick himself for not hustling the boy out of sight of Batman immediately. "We're going, we're going." He tried to adjust his grip on John, who was struggling a little.
"Nightwing-"
"Ddda'ddyy!" John screamed. Everyone froze. The boy was straining over Nightwing's shoulder, one hand braced against Dick and the other arm outstretched, reaching desperately for the all-but-invisible figure of Batman in the shadows. "Ddda'ddyy...Bbboosse...!"
"Crap, give him to B before any secret identities get compromised," Red Robin hissed.
In a daze, Nightwing set John on his feet, and to everyone's continued astonishment, the little boy ran straight to the Dark Knight. Batman sank to his knees without even thinking, hands rising in what was almost a warding gesture, but John pushed past them without hesitation and threw his arms around his father's neck.
Slowly, Batman's arms encircled the child, drawing his cape with them. Then, as John sobbed into the side of his neck and trembled, his embrace tightened. "Johnny..." One gloved hand came up to cradle the back of the boy's head, and he found himself rocking a little with his child in his arms. "Johnny...oh, son..."
Nightwing's arms gently came around them both, Orphan didn't hesitate to join in the hug, and Red Robin and Robin were left watching a few steps away, both feeling awkard and neither realizing they were smiling.
The hug finally broke at the sound of approaching police sirens. The vigilantes hurried to bundle their treasure into the Batmobile, John fell peacefully asleep on the drive home with the edge of Batman's cape grasped in his fist, and everyone lived happily ever after.
:)
The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 12 (rough draft)
A/N: They would have found John fairly quickly if this was for real, but it's not, so things don't have to completely match up.
The "played with him" references are almost literal, they're not euphemisms for abuse.
I am very unhappy with the quality of this chapter! (Until the "take off your jacket" part; I'm more satisfied with everything from there onward, since I imagination-drafted it a lot.) The Batman Who Laughs is disturbingly easy for me to write, but I don't know how to write Joker. Or Batman's Rogues in a typical villainous scenario, in general. DX
o.o.o
They couldn't find John. They searched for days, as both the Waynes and the Bats, and they couldn't find him.
Then Red Robin stumbled across a rumor that the ghost of a child Joker had once murdered was roaming the streets at night, taking vengeance in blood from anyone it came across. They investigated the rumors and found nothing at first, but then...
Hints, here and there, in police reports. Matches Malone managed to get alternate versions of the rumor that had to have a seed of truth in it. A Joker child, wandering the streets.
But then the trail went cold. And while they were still running up against one dead end after another, no one daring to comment on the dangerous ways Dick and Bruce were going out of their minds with worry - there was a video.
"Good eeeeevening, Gotham!"
"Shut your FUCKING face, Joker!" Nightwing shouted at the screen.
"I have wonderful news! Good old Joker is a daddy now!"
The camera panned, and the Batcave echoed with Batman's single, despairing cry before he went still and deathly silent. His family could feel his growing, enraged focus looming larger and larger.
Sitting in Joker's lap was a child, a boy, dressed in a purple suit like his captor's. John sat passively, unresisting, his mouth stretched in the obligatory smile and his eyes completely dead.
Nightwing was screaming, eyes fixed on the bruised face hollowed from hunger and the new scabs dotting his little bird's cheek. "...you'll PAY for every DROP of blood you took from my kid, EVERY bruise you left on him...!"
Red Robin shoved on a headset so he could keep listening clearly despite Nightwing's yelling. Batman would have done the same if he'd been able to move, but had to settle for reading his enemy's lips.
"...throw a little shower for my new bouncing baby boy! Listen up for the suggested gift list!"
Red Robin listened intently to the demands. As soon as the video ended, Nightwing, with Robin and Orphan as backup, rushed out to check potential Joker hideouts, and Batman to coordinate with the GCPD. The Batcomputer became a flurry of activity as Red Robin and Signal worked to analyze the video and Alfred to offer tech support to the Bats in the field. Jack huddled on the floor by Tim, clutching Bear and calling softly for his flockmates, over and over, unnoticed by anyone.
o.o.o.o.o
Sometimes, [chirp-chirp] sat at Master's feet and laid his head on Master's leg and let those ugly white hands stroke through his hair while Master thought or talked. Sometimes, Master played with him, and [chirp-chirp] Smiled and Laughed, and Master Smiled and Laughed back and didn't hurt him. 'It's coming later,' [chirp-chirp] thought. 'It will hurt very much when he stops being gentle.'
A few times, there were children, terrified crying ones. It hurt too much to love little ones and then watch them die, so [chirp-chirp] did not want new ones. He looked away from the children and did not say any human words to them, and they soon went away again.
Sometimes Master forgot about him. As long as [chirp-chirp] came when he called "Junior!", Master did not care if [chirp-chirp] wandered. [chirp-chirp] looked out the window at the small, free birds who weren't him; he looked at the sky and thought of all the dead people waiting for him to be dead, too. He stole things to eat and pretty things to look at, but as long as he didn't steal from Master, Master said he was good and punished the people [chirp-chirp] stole from instead of [chirp-chirp].
One time, [chirp-chirp] saw a sharp thing. He picked it up and he was going to push the thing into his heart so he could fly up to his flockmates for real, but Master caught him. He wrapped [chirp-chirp] in horrible tight white feathers so that [chirp-chirp] couldn't move his arms, it was feathers that tied him. He didn't know the words, but he knew the sound of Master's voice and the look in his eyes, and he knew that Smiling Master would not allow him to die, just like This Master and That Master. [chirp-chirp] was not allowed to die, no matter how much he wanted it.
"Please," he begged, "I'll be good, I'll be good and alive, please untie me!"
Master left him tied for a long, long time; [chirp-chirp] could walk, but he didn't want to with his arms tied. He sat at Master's feet and was good and waited. At last, Master untied him. [chirp-chirp] wanted to claw up the white feathers, but instead he climbed into Master's lap and tried to hug him, but his arms hurt too much. Master Laughed and shoved him away, and it hurt. His arms hurt, hurt, but they were free and that was good, and after a while they stopped hurting, too. He went to hide until Master called for him again.
[chirp-chirp] was sitting with his head on Master's leg when he looked at the 'movie' Master was talking to, and he saw. A little boy, wearing purple. This movie was not a story movie, it was a real movie, that was a real boy. [chirp-chirp] could tell. The real boy looked so, so scared, and Master sounded so, so happy that [chirp-chirp] knew something terrible was going to happen to that little boy.
The terrible thing was that Master touched the red flower on his chest, and the little boy in the real-movie became fire. Just fire. Fire and nothing.
[chirp-chirp]'s body shook. This was like when Master had made Becca's head bleed dead. He didn't know why but it was, it was, and Master was Laughing so [chirp-chirp] had to Laugh, too, even though he was so afraid and sick.
Master petted and played with him a long time after that, and he Smiled as hard as he could so that Master wouldn't see how scared he was, how every touch made [chirp-chirp] want to shrivel up and die.
o.o.o.o.o
They weren't fast enough or smart enough, and a child had died.
Every second that Batman was not concentrating on something or worrying about John, he was thinking of that poor boy. Three other children had been kidnapped as well; somewhere in this wretched city, three terrified children, in addition to John, were separated from their families and decked out in Joker's colors and explosives, waiting for their turn to be used in Joker's sick game.
'Weren't fast enough...weren't smart enough...'
"Awww, I'm so disappointed! Not to worry, though! I'll give you another chance~" Joker's face leered at the camera, fingers toying with the hair of an impassive John.
So now here they were, Batman and Nightwing and Red Robin and Robin, as instructed, while the lower-profile Orphan was free to search for the missing children. They waited, and the urge to do something when they were forced to stay put was unbearable.
o.o.o.o.o
...He was dead. Maybe. He died when he didn't notice and now he was...?
No, no, Master was still here, Master would not be here if [chirp-chirp] was dead. Those people...Bruce and [big chirp-chirp] and Busy and Bossy...they would not be so protection-terrified if they were dead, they would only be happy to see their little bird at last.
One of Master's flockmates grabbed his head-feathers and jerked hard. It hurt, but [chirp-chirp] couldn't fight. He looked up, at the sky, and almost floated up there, but he was surprised to hear [big chirp-chirp] screaming. He couldn't look because the man with the fake Master-face was pulling too tightly. Cold metal on his skin, near his eye. If Master-face touched it the right way, it would bang and [chirp-chirp]'s face would burst red and he would drop and be dead. [chirp-chirp] tried to be afraid, but he was too floaty.
He listened to Master taunt. 'He says, 'I will kill this bird if you don't do what I want.' He does not say it to me. He says it to...them...?' Bruce's flock. Bruce's flock who loved their little bird, their [chirp-chirp]. They did not want the bang to come and make [chirp-chirp] dead. 'They are not waiting for me in the sky, they are right here...if I am dead, I can't see them anymore...'
Master came close, and the Master-face stopped pulling so hard, so [chirp-chirp] could look away from the sky again. Another Master-face was holding a picture that moved, a real-movie, of a crying little girl dressed like Master and tied to the things that could turn her into fire. Master wrapped an arm around [chirp-chirp]'s chest, like a hug but not nice. The metal by his eye was getting less cold.
[big chirp-chirp]...and Bruce...were hard to watch, their bodies were screaming so loud. "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO...!"
"DESPERATION FURY HORROR PROTECTION-TERROR...!"
o.o.o.o.o
"Now, now, don't get your tights in a twist! I'm not going to hurt my own son if you don't force me to, are you crazy?"
"HE'S NOT YOUR SON!"
"Really, it should be a simple choice. Save the girl, or watch her go 'boom' when you take my baby away from me?"
o.o.o.o.o
Master's fingers were on the red flower. If he pressed, that girl in the picture would become fire.
Now [chirp-chirp] understood. Master would only give that flock one thing, he would give them a bird or he would give them a girl. If he gave them a bird, the girl would be fire, but if he gave her to them instead, he would keep [chirp-chirp]. That flock wanted wanted WANTED both, but they could not have both, they could only have one.
[chirp-chirp] bit.
There was a bang, but [chirp-chirp]'s face didn't spray red because he was biting the hand holding the bang-thing so hard. There was shouting and then fighting. [chirp-chirp] tried to find the picture, tried to see if the girl was safe, but Master grabbed him and threw him to a Master-face and they ran. They got into a car and went fast.
[chirp-chirp] Laughed. Master Laughed, too.
o.o.o.o.o
They had been close. So close, and Orphan had managed to rescue Mackenzie Deerhorn, but by the time the rest of them had fought their way past all the goons, Joker was long gone with his captive.
"NO!" Nightwing screamed, agonized and raging. "NO, NO, NO...!"
Red Robin was already tracking the car through cameras throughout the city, so Batman, needing to be in motion, grappled to the rooftops. He had been so close...that distant, almost confused look in John's eyes; it was a relief that the sight of Batman had not frightened him, but had he recognized his family at all? Did he know how determined they were to get him back, or did he think he'd been abandoned? 'I will kill him to make you safe.' He knew he could not allow himself to entertain such thoughts, but tonight, he did not have the strength to banish them.
o.o.o.o.o
Master was impatient and kept kicking him, so [chirp-chirp] stopped trying to cling to him, but he still watched. There were Batman and crying children in the real-movies. Master was trying to decide what to do.
'I have to take that flower away.' If Master didn't have the red flower, then he couldn't turn the children into fire. But [chirp-chirp] couldn't get close enough to take it, because Master kept shoving him away. And if [chirp-chirp] did get the flower, he didn't know how to stop Master from taking it back and then punishing him.
Then Master decided. Master-faces - they weren't wearing the fake faces now, but they were the same people - took [chirp-chirp] and tied things onto him. 'I will be fire next.' He was sad because now he wanted to be with Bruce's flock instead of dead, but if it was him instead of those crying children... It was okay. But how to stop Master from burning those children after he burned [chirp-chirp]...?
o.o.o.o.o
The family was spread thin searching for Joker. Most of them, Batman included, found the victims rather than the mastermind, so it was only Nightwing and Robin who made it to the theater.
A crowd of screaming people was trapped, unable to get through the blocked exits and staring fearfully up at Joker on the balcony. At his side, John stood silently in his purple outfit. "Now, now, don't be like that! You're not going to be able to enjoy the show if you don't settle down!"
(Batman didn't say a word to the GCPD officers, just pushed the sobbing child into their arms and rushed to the Batmobile, blazing across the city toward the theater.)
"You're gonna wanna pay attention to this one, it's got an explosive ending!" Joker was cackling as he turned to John. "Come on over here, Junior! Show 'em what you've got there under your jacket."
"..." John had comprehended 'come,' 'here,' and 'Junior.'
"I said TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET. You deaf? You got any brains in there?" Joker called, rapping on the child's head.
John abruptly yanked off his jacket. And kept going, stripping off his shorts, his shoes, his socks...
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Joker exclaimed, surprised for a second before bursting into genuine laughter. "What a little exhibitionist!" He picked up the boy, who was now naked except for the bomb vest, and cradled him in his arms, ready to toss him over into the crowd below. "You ready for your big performance, Junior? It's real easy. All you have to do is jump, and daddy'll do the rest!"
(Nightwing and Robin, struggling to break into the room, didn't see it, but Red Robin could, watching the broadcast on a tablet as he waited for his program to break through the compromised security system. John's face. The pure Dick Grayson warmth on it, the gentle smile. It terrified him, because John should not look like that when he didn't know that rescue was on the way.)
Joker blinked at the way John was gazing at him. "Wow. You really are looking forward to this, you little creep." He threw back his head and laughed his heart out.
Master was not looking now. So, so easy for [chirp-chirp] to reach and press the flower.
o.o.o.o.o
The tires screeched wildly as Batman fought for control of the vehicle. When it lurched to a stop, he stared out the window, breathing hard, at what had startled him: a flock of pure white birds winging their way into the night sky, having burst up in front of the car. Batman frowned in confusion - they had seemingly come out of nowhere, and were not a nocturnal breed.
Then he thought to look down, and his heart nearly stopped. Three of the birds had been struck by the car; amidst scattered, drifting white feathers, two were struggling frantically with broken wings or legs, crippled in the grime of the street. The largest bird lay still and silent, dead.
"John," Batman whispered. His body was shaking. He revved up the car and drove even faster than before. 'John! John! John...!'
When he screeched to a stop in front of the theater, he was horrified to see smoke rising from it, broken glass, law enforcement and medical personnel everywhere, shaken survivors being questioned or treated. 'No...Johnny, Johnny, where's my son...?'
There were many people crying, but one anguished voice tugged so hard on his heart that he actually paused before storming into the destruction. He looked up, and there on a ledge, a singed, white-faced Robin was holding Nightwing, who lay in his arms wailing in despair. Robin stared wordlessly down at his father, who refused to acknowledge why his son looked so helpless and lost, why his eldest was grieving wildly enough to be unmindful of his surroundings. "Johnny...!" Dick's cry was as thin and broken as a child's. "Johnny...!"
Batman could not bear to listen. He rushed into the theater, to the worst of the destruction where the bomb had gone off, stumbling over debris, eyes searching, searching...
"Batman."
Again and again, he pushed Jim away, looking for John. Joker wouldn't have killed him, not out of order; 'Joker Junior' had clearly been meant for the finale, three of the children were still alive, he wouldn't have killed John this early in the plan.
"Batman, stop. Stop."
So many children, so many frightened eyes, surely one of these small figures shivering under shock blankets was his...
"Batman, it's over. There's nothing you can do. It was recorded, Joker and the boy were at ground zero, there's no way-"
"Let go of me, Gordon!" Batman bellowed.
"They were the only casualties. That kid saved the lives of everyone in the theater, he was a hero."
Batman hit him.
o.o.o.o.o
One month later, Joker's death was old news, and Gotham had moved on. Wayne Manor had not.
Tim had taken his now legal son away from the oppressive place, the two of them living quietly together in Tim's newly-built headquarters. They were the only ones who had any contact whatsoever with Jason and Peter. Dick had vanished, as had Nightwing; only his tracker traveling slowly across Asia gave any indication that he was even alive. Duke still worked as the Signal, but was now living with his older cousin in town. Cassandra, much as she wanted to comfort what remained of her family, was unable to bear the severity of Bruce's grief, and had gone to stay with Stephanie for a while. Damian, after disappearing to Titans Tower for a week, had returned, but only as a comfort to Alfred, who was essentially grieving alone.
Bruce almost never left the Batcave. He barely ate or slept, spending his nights losing himself deep in Batman's darkness and his days grieving savagely for his son.
'They're wrong.' He had lost count of how many times he'd watched the video. Hundreds. Back when it had still been in the news, the consensus of the various commentators was that the child dressed as 'Junior' had activated the dentonation switch by accident. The movement of his hand had been almost gentle, as if he was merely shifting in his captor's hold.
'It wasn't an accident.' Bruce knew that for certain. The boy's eyes had moved to the flower-shaped device before he'd touched it; he had reached for it deliberately. He had probably even known what it would do - there had been no curiosity or fascination in his expression, only a resigned serenity.
That look on his face was what Bruce couldn't understand, what he couldn't stop seeking an answer for as if his reward for finding the solution would be to get his son back alive and well. 'Why did he smile?' It had been a genuine one. The boy had gazed at his captor for a moment with truly breathtaking love in his eyes. 'Why?!'
If he'd known what the detonator would do, why would he look so uplifted? If he was so happy with Joker, why had he blown him up? And even if that did have an explanation that made sense, Bruce knew that this unimaginably victimized child could never in a thousand years harbor genuine love for the person who'd crushed him. Forgiveness, perhaps, given enough time and soul-searching. Acceptance, understanding, possibly even compassion.
But love? John had looked at Joker as he would at a beloved parent.
'Maybe it was for me.' Bruce dismissed the thought, as he had every single time it came. John would never love him, either. Bruce Wayne was the alternate universe counterpart of the boy's abuser, there was no way John could ever possibly love him. 'Nightfall,' he suddenly realized, glancing at the clock. He was already in the Batsuit, so he simply stood up, pulled the cowl over his face as he strode to the car, and went to pour out his grief and rage into those who preyed on the vulnerable.
He staggered back into the cave a little past dawn, swallowed two cups of lukewarm coffee, and sat back down in front of the computer. He watched the video again. He typed for a while, then he switched screens and watched the video five more times.
'Maybe it was for me.' It WASN'T! 'The smile was not for you!' Bruce raged at himself. Even if John had sent his last, wordless message while looking at his captor in order to avoid suspicion, that love was not for Bruce Wayne. If anything, it had been for the rest of the family, for life in general, for the sheer satisfaction he felt when about to stop a monster for good.
Bruce watched the video again. Joker gleefully rambling away, calling John to him, the boy casting off everything but the vest that would kill him moments later. Joker lifting him up as if he had any right to touch that precious child with those fucking filthy hands of his.
The smile.
The laughter.
John's small hand reaching, one fraction of a second of surprise and horror and outrage on Joker's face before the explosion took out the camera. A fraction of a second of John's loving smile shifting to a satisfied smirk.
That must be it, a sweet expression to mask the devious plan beneath.
But then why had he kept smiling even after Joker looked away to laugh?
'Because it wasn't for Joker, it was-' "Replay," Bruce ordered.
o.o.o.o.o
Six months after John's death. His grave, along with his bird-sister's beside it, was adorned with fresh flowers every day. By Alfred, not Bruce, since Bruce had spent the past three weeks in bed and was probably just going to stay there until his broken heart finished killing him.
o.o.o.o.o
It had been such a beautiful dream that Bruce wept when he opened his eyes and realized it wasn't real, deep sobs that racked his whole body. He curled up tightly and wailed, squeezing Elephant and Dog in his arms.
It was a long time before he stopped hearing the final words of the dream echoing in his memory: "It was for you, Daddy."
o.o.o
A/N: And so concludes the Bad Ending, at least for John. Jack's story (including a bit of Peter's) will be continued in the "Dad Tim" route.
Originally, John was going to successfully commit suicide at the abusive foster home, but then Joker was like, "Ooh! Ooh! No, I have a better idea!"