The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Alternate route: Never Adopted - Part 5 (rough draft)
They were calling her, interested but unsure. Something was good but not right, and they knew she would want to investigate.
Ivy walked deep into Robinson Park, into the woods that had never receded after the earthquake, the woods that Wayne Enterprises had gotten legal protection for. (Ivy was grateful, but would have been suspucious before she'd known what mask Bruce Wayne wore at night. She and Batman might not always get along, but they weren't diametrically opposed, either.)
At first there were little homeless encampments occupied by the smart ones who knew they'd get kicked out of they littered, polluted, or harmed the plants. Farther in, though, there was nothing but the Green.
Until she reached the place that had called her. A small teenager lay nestled in the vines as if he was as at home among them as Ivy would be. Huge, lush, colorful flowers had bloomed all around him, a mark of their favor and approval. Vines and branches hung over his head, heavy with fruit.
The young man glanced at Ivy without turning his head, then away again in complete disinterest.
He was attuned to plant time, so Ivy said nothing. She knelt in the grass beside him, and they both simply existed.
He tirelessly watched the dance of leaf-filtered sunlight and shadows playing on the forest floor. His fingers absently curled in the silky grass, occasionally rising to ghost across bright petals. Sometimes fruit would dip low enough to brush his lips, and he would slowly sink his teeth into the sweet meat; sometimes it would be a flower offering its nectar. Ivy had never nursed a child at her breast, but she knew that this was what it would feel like.
At long last, the young man seemed to become aware of her presence as more than just a passing triviality. He turned his head slightly so that she was in his field of vision, and waited as if for the answer to a question he had not asked. It was so similar to how plants queried. She had never seen a human so suited to the Green, a puzzle made all the stranger because she could detect nothing out of the ordinary about him that would explain such an intuitive understanding.
"Come," she said through the Green. "Safe."
He studied her warily for a moment. Then his body sank and his eyes half-closed in submission.
He had difficulty walking on his own, so the plants had to help her. They got him into her solar-powered car, and she drove back to the lab with her new specimen.
o.o.o.o.o
The petite blonde skidded to a stop, staring at the high fence that blocked the end of the alley. She whirled back, but by that time, the gang of men who'd chased her were blocking the only way out.
Her face set and she reached to pull out a can labeled 'mace' (though what it actually contained was a mild strain of Joker toxin), watching carefully for the right moment to give the signal.
"Nowhere to go, sweets," the man in the lead smirked. "Now, let's get back to our conversation."
"Yep, let's," she started to say, but before she could finish, something came leaping out from behind a dumpster. She thought at first that it was one of her babies jumping the gun, even the snarls and hysteric laughter were similar, but the creature's body wasn't hairy enough. When Harley realized that this random Joker-dog-kid was in the process if demolishing her lead in a misguided effort to help her, she hastily grabbed the nearest guy and took out his leg, then pressed a knife to his ear. "Start talkin'," she ordered. "The Beate Box, why wasn't it in the cabin?"
The interrogation was shorter and less bloody than she'd anticipated. By the time she'd contemptuosly dropped the half-conscious body of the guy who'd given her the next piece of this stupid clue-to-another-clue hunt, Bud and Lou, maybe confused at never hearing the expected signal, had come out of hiding. They were currently having a grand old time getting acquainted with Harley's young 'rescuer,' who looked delighted to see them. The hyenas, who had grown accustomed to laughing for human reasons in addition to natural hyena ones, were curiously giggling at Joker Dog Boy, who was giggling back, both parties imitating each other.
Harley clapped her hands smartly. "Babies!" The animals bounded over to her and devoured the treats she gave them. "Ended up not needin' ya after all, but good job, anyway! Who's my good boys?! Who's my good boys, yeah, you are, yooouuu are!"
The cuddlefest was interrupted by the boy bouncing in among them and prancing just like the hyenas had, looking at Harley expectantly.
She stared. "You wanna treat, too?"
He moved his hands in what she recognized as ASL. "Food. Hungry."
"Ah, geez." Melting a bit, Harley caressed the boy's - young man's, really; he looked to be about fifteen at least, though he didn't act like it - hair like she would a dog, and like a dog, he leaned into the touch. She shouldn't feel responsible for every victim of her sadistic ex, but the too-pale skin and too-wide smile made her feel guilty, anyway. "All right, well, I was headin' ta Red's anyway ta swap notes, she's gonna have fruit an' veggies lyin' around, at least. C'mon, Fido."
She left the alley with her entourage trailing behind her.
o.o.o.o.o
Selina's heart was pounding as she rushed over the rooftops to get home (well, one of her homes, anyway. It was her favorite safehouse during the times when she didn't want to be mistress of Stately Wayne Manor and mother of her ten thousand stepchildren for a while. She'd been hanging out there for almost three weeks now, Bruce was starting to get cranky about it).
The phone in her pocket went off with an alert that someone had broken in, and she paused, cursing. Probably the Falcone goons, they'd made it there ahead of her (how, though?! She knew they'd be closing in, but not that fast!). The kittens, though, and her treasures... And the data stick, of course, that was the important thing. Objectively. Even if she cared about her cats and shinies more.
She could at least scope the place out, maybe call on the closest Bat for assistance (hopefully Tim, or Jason, the ones least likely to snitch to their dad). She just needed...
Perched on the rooftop opposite her apartment, Selina stared at the screen. Her security system showed only one human in her home, rather than the group of thugs she'd expected.
Frowning, she crept closer and peered in. A boy in dirty, ill-fitting clothes was raiding her refrigerator with one of her purses looped over his shoulder (not one with anything important in it), and she could not believe that some random underage burglar had chosen this, of all times, to break in.
Impatient now, Selina slipped through the window and moved quickly throughout the apartment, scooping the litter of rescued kittens and their startled mother into a bag and starting to key in the code that would reveal a palm-print pad.
The young thief jumped in surprise at her entrance and whipped out a knife, then stared as the owner of the home he'd broken into simply ignored him.
"Kid," Selina said brusquely, sweeping her best jewels into a side-pocket of the cat bag, "some very bad men are about to show up, so I'd recommend you scram now." She turned to Isis, who was standing on the couch, watching her intently. Selina made the hissing sound that was a signal to flee, and her oldest and dearest feline friend vanished out the window. She'd find Selina later, or, barring that, return to her warm bed at the manor.
"What?" The word was barely out of the kid's mouth before he started to dash out of the apartment, and Selina smiled as she slipped the data stick out of its hiding place and into her bra.
The kid came back into the apartment, this time gripped in the fist of a Falcone thug as a gun was pressed to his head. "Hiya, boss," the goon sneered at Selina, as his buddies quickly circled around to enclose the woman.
Selina very carefully set the bag of cats down, hoping they would be found and properly taken care of by the police whenever they came to investigate. She positioned her hip in a gratuitously sexy pose and raised her hands in a show of surrender as if she was bored and going through the motions. "Oh dear, you found me," she sneered.
"Yeah, and yer not gettin' away this time. Otherwise I shoot the kid, see?"
Said kid had a grimly resigned look on his face, like he was used to enduring unpleasant things until they were over. "Chose the wrong place to rob, huh?" Selina remarked, annoyed that she was hindered by having to protect a little punk who'd tried to steal from her.
The boy made a soft but contemptuous noise that sounded like a bird's crow.
Selina and the brat were pushed back to back, their hands tied together, and then forced into the back seat of a car with a goon on either side. It was a tight fit, and the boy ended up half in her lap, both of them in awkward poses because of their bound arms. The kid was small and skinny, so he wasn't too heavy, but his bones jutted into her as she worked quietly on freeing her hands. Her ankles had been bound, too, as a precautionary measure, and her mouth taped shut to complete the cliche, though the boy had been spared that, presumably because he was less of a threat.
The kid must have felt her purposefully straining fingers, because he eyed her as if trying to figure out if she was doing what he thought she was doing. She smiled - her mouth was hidden behind the gag, but he'd still see it in the rest of her face if he was observant. He looked away and gazed sullenly out the window, his arms relaxing in a way that made it slightly easier for her to work.
"Thought you'd be a tougher catch than this, Miz Calabrese," the chief goon in the passenger seat remarked.
Selina didn't bother to react to his use of her birth name, since he had almost certainly been attempting to get a rise out of her.
"Who's the kid, anyway? Another Wayne brat?"
And suddenly, at the sound of the name, it clicked. Selina looked sharply at her captivity buddy, forgetting for a minute to work on loosening her hands. He eyed her in mild alarm at her sudden stillness, and she took in the signs of former Jokerization and the facial bone structure that was identical to Tim's. 'Dear God, it's one of them!' The Bats had been looking for their lost birds for weeks, and now one of them had almost literally dropped into her lap...?
Uncomfortable at her scrutiny, the boy, Little Tim - Jackson? They were using middle names, weren't they? - shifted uncomfortably, but there was no room. He went still again, apparently deciding that staying in her lap was preferable to cuddling into his captor, which was the only other option.
'Gonna get you out of this, kiddo,' Selina vowed, her determination renewed.
o.o.o.o.o
Less than an hour later, Selina was striding out of the front door with her unconscious sort-of stepson slung over her shoulder and the Falcone mansion in flames behind her. She put the boy down long enough to hotwire the loveliest car in the driveway, heaved Jackson into the back seat, then sped away.
She headed toward Bristol at first, but long before reaching the corresponding highway exit, she thought better of it. Bruce and the others were understandably desperate to find the little Joker-Robins, but it didn't go both ways. She'd listened to more than she'd wanted to hear of Dick's angsting, Jason's ranting, and Tim's hurt annoyance. Their younger selves hated and feared the Bats, Bruce most of all. From what Selina had gathered, they'd been held captive and tortured by a Jokerized Batman, so it would be cruel to drag them back to Batman's headquarters. Even Bruce had planned to see that they got better care under other people's direct supervision; he'd realized that handling the boys himself was not in their best interests.
So not the manor, then. But where else could she take a child who had suffered everything Jackson Drake had? She certainly couldn't care for him long-term, she had other things to do, and her hands were already full with too many other emotionally scarred young people. Should she just dump him off at the Wayne Foundation, notify Bruce, and let him handle it from a distance?
The boy stirred in his sleep, making soft hissing noises like failed whistles, then whimpered pitifully. The next moment, Selina's cell was ringing. She tapped at it until Harley's voice came bouncing out of the speaker. "HEY KITTY, guess what!"
"I'm kind of busy here, Harl," Selina sighed.
"I gotta new puppy!"
"Harley." Selina didn't know whether to be incredulous, annoyed, or just tired.
"Well, actually he's a kid, but he's like a puppy! Bud an' Lou love him, and he loves them. I think he loves Pammy's flower-bird more, though; kiddos've been joined at the hip since they first laid eyes on each other."
"Harley, I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you at Ivy's?"
"Yeah!"
"Please tell me you did not kidnap a child." 'Or put a dog collar on him.' Harley didn't do weird stuff like that to non-consenting innocent civilians anymore, but she was also...not predictable.
"Nowhere ta kidnap 'im from! Found 'im on the street. Cute li'l smelly knight in shinin' armor tried ta save me from a buncha mean ol' thugs!"
"Harley, just- I'm on my way right now, okay? Got a stray of my own to add to whatever collection you've started."
"Ooohh, does this one twitter, too?"
"What? Never mind; just, it's temporary, Harley. Don't even ask me if you can keep him, because you'll be dealing with Bruce otherwise."
"Ugh. I thought ya drew the line."
"This one's not going near the manor, believe me. B has a vested interest, though, so be prepared to tangle with a Bat if you try anything."
"Now why would I ever do that, Kitty?"
Selina smiled a little as she rolled her eyes and hung up.
TBC
A/N: I don't know whether Isis, Bud, & Lou would still be alive or young enough to keep up with their humans' shenanigans, but I figured it wasn't worth looking up or making new animal OCs to replace them, since this whole story is an alternate scenario, anyway.