There's Something For Everyone at the Public Library, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Part 2: Jason (rough draft)
A/N: Warning for brief but harsh swearing, because Jason.
o.o.o
The boy caught Bruce's attention for two reasons: one was the mild but noticeable unwashed smell. The other reason was that the boy was curled up on a beanbag chair, reading. Like children were supposed to do in libraries, like Bruce himself had done in libraries when he was young, like far too few children did nowadays because they were more interested in playing on the computer or running through the library as if it was a literal playground. This kid, however, had a neat stack of five more books sitting on the floor beside him.
Bruce curiously tilted his head a little to read the title of the boy's current book. Emily of New Moon. Bruce was impressed; a lot of the lesser-known classics got withdrawn because no one read them anymore. He'd nearly lost his temper the other day with a patron who'd tried to convince him that the original versions of books like A Connecticut Yankee in King's Arthur's Court and The Swiss Family Robinson were too 'difficult' for children nowadays. Bruce's argument, of course, was that children were perfectly capable of reading books at that level - it was the school standards that had gotten lower. Because if they weren't lowered, everyone would fail because their reading skills were so low, and they were so low because kids didn't read these days.
Except for this one, apparently. "Do you like it so far?" Bruce asked.
The boy startled so violently that he banged his head on a shelf and knocked one of the decorative stuffed animals off it. Bruce stared, wide-eyed, but couldn't recover from his surprise until the boy had protested angrily in a strong Park Row accent, "Wasn' hurtin' 'em, I'll put 'em back, ya can't prove nothin', I didn' do nothin' wrong!" as he started shoving all his books onto the shelves he'd been reading next to.
"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Bruce finally managed to say. That did nothing to calm the boy, so he tried, "You're not in trouble."
The boy paused, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I was just curious. I remember reading the Emily books when I was younger, and I wondered if you liked them, too."
The boy remained silent, assessing.
"If you don't want those books, though, you can just leave them on a table, or on the side of the shelf there. That way we can process them and put them right back where they're supposed to go."
The boy finally mumbled, his accent milder now, "...You don't have to call the cops, I'm leaving." He put his hands in his pockets and started to slouch off.
"Did you like I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings?" Bruce asked desperately, having caught the title from the boy's little pile.
The child paused.
"It's a good book. How far did you get into it?"
"...Didn't start it yet," the boy said warily. "Still working on Em- on the New Moon book."
"Well, let me know what you think of it, and of the Emily book." Bruce gently pulled all the boy's books out from where he'd haphazardly shoved them and offered them to the boy again. The kid looked at him warily and made no move to take them. "My name is Bruce Wayne, I'm the children's librarian here," Bruce tried. "What's your name?"
"...Jason," the boy finally mumbled.
Bruce smiled. "It's good to meet you, Jason. I'm very pleased you came to read books at the library today."
"Why?!"
"Jason, I'm a children's librarian. I love books, and I love to see children read books, and I get paid to help children find books they want to read at an institution whose entire purpose is to make stories and information and resources available, free of charge, to everyone in this city."
Still very cautious, Jason slowly moved to take his books back.
"Do you have a library card?" Bruce asked.
"Lost it," the boy mumbled.
"That's all right. If you bring your adult to the front desk-" Bruce had quickly learned not to assume that children always came to the library with their mother or father, "-then we can get your account updated and issue you a new card."
Jason slammed his books down on the nearest table. "Fuck you," he spat, and rushed out of the building. Bruce stared after him, wondering what in the world he'd done wrong and feeling pained that he'd accidentally driven a child away from the library.
o.o.o.o.o
Bruce thought that he'd seen the last of young Jason, so he was delighted when, almost two weeks later, he stumbled across the boy curled up in the little niche between the Young Adult Graphic Novels and the books for the adult education center. Jason was wholly absorbed in whatever he was reading, so Bruce backed away silently before he was noticed.
Days passed, and weeks, and Jason gradually grew more confident. Bruce did not dare approach the boy again, but he kept a close eye on him, watching as Jason slowly went from skulking in corners to sitting in chairs or at tables. He always looked so thin and dirty, Bruce took to leaving packaged snacks lying around Jason's favorite spots as if other patrons had forgotten them, and he was gratified to always find them missing by the end of the day, particularly when he glimpsed Jason actually slipping one into his pocket.
One evening, Jason was still reading in the library near closing time.
"Diana," Bruce murmured to the assistant manager, "Jason doesn't like me, I don't think I should be the one to tell him we're closing."
"Oh, that little boy?" she said, craning her head to look. "I'll tell him."
"Thanks. Be gentle, and make him feel welcome to come back tomorrow."
"Yes, of course, Bruce."
Jason looked startled when he found the woman bending over him, and scrambled as if to run, though her warm smile seemed to ease his panic a little. "Hello, there! I just wanted to let you know that we have to lock the doors soon, but we look forward to seeing you tomorrow! When will your parents be here to pick you up, sweetie?"
"You're closing?" he said in dismay, looking down at his book, which he seemed to be about three-quarters of the way through.
"Yes, but I'd be happy to get that checked out to you at the front desk."
Jason clenched his teeth, but his tone was polite when he said, "No, thank you. Can I use the bathroom real quick?"
"Of course, honey."
Bruce, who had been spying, moved aside to stay out of sight when Jason headed for the restroom. The boy remained in there for about three minutes, then came out again with his hands empty and his jacket slightly bulkier than before. Bruce frowned and was debating whether to say anything when Jason, who fidgeted uncomfortably as Raven unlocked the front door for him, passed the anti-theft sensors.
They started beeping, and Jason was so startled that the prize he was smuggling under his jacket dropped to the floor. A split second later, he snatched up the book, shoved past Raven, and took off running into the night.
Everyone stared after him. "Welp," Jessica finally said in a resigned tone, "guess we're never seeing that particular copy of A Swiftly Tilting Planet again."
"I don't think we'll ever see Jason again, either," Bruce murmured, feeling more sad than he expected. He would have checked out the book on his own card and let Jason borrow it if he'd had the chance to offer without scaring the boy off - yet now Jason was scared off, anyway, this time for good. 'I'm a failure.'
o.o.o.o.o
As usual, Bruce was the first one to arrive at work the next morning. He stared at the ground in front of the employee entrance, where A Swiftly Tilting Planet had been propped.
As Bruce reached down to pick it up, he surreptitiously checked his surroundings. The figure in the foliage near the garbage bins was well-hidden, but Bruce could see a bit of a dirty, scuffed sneaker. Still facing the door, he smiled in deep relief and badged himself in, hoping to see Jason in the library later that day, after they'd opened to the public.
o.o.o.o.o
He did not, to his disappointment, but a couple of days later, he looked up at the mother with a large brood of children approaching his desk and realized that one member of the group did not fit in. The other kids were carelessly boisterous, but the kid with the dirty red hoodie making a noticeable effort to keep his face turned away was obviously Jason. He veered off as soon as the mother stopped to ask Bruce for Dr. Seuss books, and then Bruce was busy helping her and didn't get a chance to look for Jason until later.
He didn't see Jason at all that day, but the next morning, a copy of Many Waters was leaning against the employee entrance door. After Bruce had gotten his things settled in his desk, he took his library card and a copy of An Acceptable Time to a self-checkout station, then leaned outside again to set the book near the door.
A few minutes later, when he was absorbed in setting up for Story Time, he was startled by someone pounding on the back door. He frowned in confusion when he went to answer, since the other employees would have badged themselves in, and anyone on official business outside of library hours would have rung the bell or knocked more politely.
Jason was standing at the threshold, fists clenched, face red and twisted with anger, An Acceptable Time lying at his feet. "Whatdja do that for?!" the boy shouted at Bruce immediately.
"...That's the next book in the series," Bruce said warily, having no idea how he'd misstepped this time.
"I'm a thief! I fuckin' stole the last two books, now ya jus' givin' me 'nother one?!"
"You did not steal them, you borrowed them without permission, and I expect you to return this one when you're finished, just like you did the others."
Jason stared.
"It's on my personal card. I'll pay any late fees if you can't finish it in nine weeks." Oh, wait, the board had recently upped the maximum number of renewals. "Eighteen weeks, I mean."
Jason's face contorted with several emotions at once. The one he finally settled on was anger again. "'Snot gonna take me eighteen fuckin' weeks ta read one book!"
That was obvious, since he'd finished each of the previous books so quickly. "I just didn't want you to worry."
Jason stared at him some more. This time, his voice was quiet and hitched. "Why...why'dja use yer own fuckin' card fer me, moron?"
Bruce stooped to pick up the book, then offered it to Jason. "I like to see kids' hands filled with books. I don't know why you don't want a library card of your own," though he could guess, since children's cards required documentation from their parents, "but I'm not going to let that stop me from filling your hands and your heart with books."
Jason stared at An Acceptable Time for a minute. Then he made a strangled sobbing noise and fled without taking it.
Bruce lowered the book, not sure whether to feel disappointed or hopeful. Then he scowled when Clark and Victor came edging warily into view, having apparently witnessed the whole thing but been reluctant to interrupt. "What was that all about?" Victor asked.
"He wants to read but he doesn't want a card," Bruce grumbled. "I'm trying to make sure he can read, anyway."
"That's the kid who stole the L'Engle book, right?" Clark said.
"Borrowed. He brought it back."
Clark laughed. "Well, whatever's going on with him, I know you're the best person to get to the bottom of it, Bruce."
Shortly after the library opened about an hour later, Jason came in, quiet but not trying to hide this time. He reached without a word to take An Acceptable Time from where it was resting on the desk beside Bruce's elbow, and went away into the stacks. Bruce didn't see him again until lunchtime, when he tracked down the boy (now lying in a beanbag chair and having progressed over halfway through the book). He silently held out a protein bar and a packet of fish crackers. Jason stared at them for a while, then sighed and accepted them, and Bruce went away.
At closing time, Jason came up to Bruce, his shoulders hunched in shame as he scowled at the floor. He put An Acceptable Time on the desk, which had a bookmark from the teen area stuck in the very last pages, along with Louisa May Alcott's Little Men, then waited, his head still hanging.
"Come with me and I'll show you how to use the self-checkout machines." It seemed to make Jason feel a little better to be able to check out the books himself, though he hesitated and still wouldn't look at Bruce when he slid the man's card back to him.
Jason hugged the books to his chest. "I was gonna bring it back," he mumbled. "I didn't know you have those fucking anti-theft things for library stuff, but I was gonna bring it back even before it beeped me."
"I know. You're a very conscientious young man, Jason."
That startled the boy into meeting his eyes for a moment, immediately after which Jason fled. He hesitated only at the front doors, though this time, the security devices were silent when he passed through them. "Have a good evening," Raven said. Jason jerked again in surprise at being addressed so politely, and took off without answering.
Clark came up beside Bruce and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Bruce murmured, his eyes still focused outside the windows where Jason's hoodie had disappeared in the darkness beyond a street lamp, "I'd like to know what he goes home to every night."
"I'm glad he wants to come here," Clark said. "You've gone above and beyond to make him feel welcome, Bruce."
o.o.o.o.o
Weeks passed. Jason was coming in almost every day now, often waiting at the front for the doors to be unlocked in the morning. He had, however, made sure he was never around near closing time even after Bruce and the others stopped asking him about his caretakers.
Jason curled up in chairs to read, or browsed through the stacks in search of new material. After a while, he would sometimes even ask Bruce for recommendations.
Bruce discovered that, in addition to old-fashioned children's fiction, the boy also liked books from the adult section, mostly poetry and non-fiction about cars, cooking, crafts, survival skills, and drug addiction. (It was a weird set of interests, but who cared as long as he was reading.) He also started getting greedier about the books he borrowed, and Bruce had to set a limit of two fiction and two non-fiction books at a time. Jason had never yet failed to return a book on time, but in case the books got damaged or lost for whatever reason, Bruce couldn't afford to pay for more than a few replacement copies.
Jason eventually opened up enough to reveal that he was apparently chatty. Bruce, who now regularly brought a double portion of lunch, would split the food with Jason in the employee break room and listen to the boy rambling about everything he read. For a ten-year-old, some of his analyses were pretty astute.
"You know, I was thinking about it, and if Howl told Sophie how he felt about her earlier, he would have scared her off. He saw how scared of him she was when she was a girl, and she was so mad when she found out he already knew she was the old lady, she's like the kind of person you have to work backwards with to help." He took another bite of his sandwich, then smiled. "Kind of like me."
Bruce thought of how he'd spent almost a whole month lying about how he could never finish the gigantic portions his uncle kept making for him until Jason had finally grown comfortable with the idea of eating lunch with Bruce rather than taking unwanted leftovers off his hands. "Yes."
o.o.o.o.o
The week Jason didn't show up at the library, Bruce felt very uneasy, and now regretted that he'd given up trying to get any contact information out of the boy. His worry grew until he found himself lying sleeplessly in bed in the wee hours of the morning. The last time an underage, unaccompanied regular had failed to keep up with his usual library habits, it turned out he had been languishing in jail after the murder of his parents, so Bruce was now seriously considering calling the police to report Jason as a missing person. 'Today,' he thought. 'If he doesn't show up again by noon today, I'll tell the police.'
Later, he got to work even earlier than usual, walking briskly from his car and untangling his badge from his tie so it would be ready to scan.
Then he rounded the corner of the building and dropped his badge. The ghastly sight of a trail of blood led from the street, across the grass and concrete, and ended at the employee entrance door where a child was slumped, soaked with blood. "JASON!"
Bruce dropped his briefcase and flung himself to his knees beside the boy, feeling frantically for a pulse. There was one, very faint, but Jason wasn't dead. Bruce scrabbled for his phone to call 9-1-1. "Jason, hang on, just hang on, kiddo, the ambulance will be here soon, oh, please, Jay, please keep breathing, please hang on...!
o.o.o.o.o
Bruce thought he was going crazy, he didn't know what to do with himself. He walked all around the inside and outside of the hospital and called Dick and Alfred and drank horrendous coffee without tasting it and tried to get some tasks done for work, but the entire time, he was desperate to see Jason, to make sure the boy was all right, to see Jay's face and maybe even that crooked smile of his, but it was okay if he didn't smile as long as he was alive.
They let him into the boy's room at last. Bruce sat down by the bed and held the child's hand and thought achingly of how very small he looked. Jason's eyes were closed, but he was breathing, and Bruce watched the rise and fall of his chest for a very long time.
o.o.o.o.o
Jason woke up the afternoon of the next day. Bruce had left work early because he'd been a wreck at the library and Clark had actually had to tell him to just go home. Bruce had not gone home, he had gone to the hospital, and was reading a book to Jason when he looked up and realized that the boy was watching him, eyes half open. "Jason!"
"Bruce..."
Bruce shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling, kiddo?"
"Fine."
"Jason. You were stabbed yesterday."
"Hunh," the boy muttered.
Bruce reached out and gently stroked his hair. Jason flinched at first, but then relaxed and made no move to stop him. "You really had me worried, Jay."
"'S fine. Not the first time I've been stabbed."
Bruce's hand paused a moment. "Jay. That's awful."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
"Did you not hear me say I was worried about you?"
"I'm just some random kid off the street. You have work. Why are you here?!"
"Jason," Bruce said slowly, "we figured out who you are. That...that no one's looking after you right now, and the last official record of you is a police report your foster family filed when you ran away six months ago."
"They were hitting me."
"I'm not going to send you back to them, Jay."
"Yeah?" the kid said belligerently. "Where are you gonna send me, then?"
Bruce took a deep breath. "Jason, you know how I live with my uncle and my son? We were talking last night, and we all thought that it was be pretty nice if you came to live with us."
Jason stared.
"If you want to. If you don't have anywhere better to go."
The boy's face twisted for a moment. Then his expression smoothed out in a strange way, and he smiled. "You're gonna adopt me like you did that commune kid?"
"Would you like that? I know I would."
There was a flash of emotion in Jason's eyes that came and went so fast, Bruce didn't have time to identify it. "Maybe. If I live with you, can we have chili dogs for dinner every night?"
"Hmmmrrnn, Uncle Alfred is a bit...particular about our meals, but I'll tell you what: anytime we go out, to a game or the movies or something, I'll get you a chili dog."
"Guess it's a deal, then," Jason murmured.
"Guess so," Bruce said, unable to fully hide his smile. This was exciting. If he didn't have the feeling that something was a little off, it would have been a perfect moment. "I'm going to go grab some coffee and call your social worker, but I'll be back soon, okay?"
"'Kay. I might be asleep."
"That's fine, kiddo. Rest and get better."
Bruce was halfway to the coffee machine when he suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten to give Jason the get-well card that Dick had made for him. He ought to pass it along before Jason fell asleep. He had the card in his hand and was opening his mouth to explain as he stepped through the door, but then he registered what he was seeing.
Jason, looking like a deer in headlights, was halfway through getting dressed in the change of clothes that had been brought for when he was well enough to be discharged. His pockets were bulging with hoarded snacks and packaged medical supplies. The stiff, sluggish movements were gone, replaced, before Bruce's interruption, with a pained but swift urgency.
"Jason...what are you doing?"
"...Checking out early."
"Jason, you were stabbed." 'And I JUST told you I want to adopt you,' he added silently, hurt.
"Told you, I been stabbed before," Jason said hotly. "No big deal, I even got clean bandages this time. Jus' walk away and I'll be outta your hair in a minute."
"I want you in my hair, Jason!"
Jason's face twisted in wry amusement.
"I mean, why are you leaving? I'm going to be your- I'm responsible for you now, Jason, I just told you that."
"I didn' ask fer it!" Jason shouted. "It 's fine jus' you an' me at the library, I been livin' fine on my own since Mom died! I don' want ya ta mess it up!"
Bruce tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. "If you...if you don't want me to adopt you, why didn't you just say so?"
Jason looked incredulous. "I'm doin' ya a favor, don' gimme that stupid look!" He gulped and made a noticeable effort to control his accent. "This way you don't have to pay the hospital bills or worry about having another mouth to feed, I'll find a different library if you want, too; I-"
He gasped and backed away when the man strode toward him, then looked bewildered when Bruce dropped to his knees and took his hands. "Jason, I care about you very much. I want to spend money on you. That is, I want to provide for you and give you everything you need and want. I don't want you to go to another library, and I don't want you to worry about hospital bills, because you're ten years old and that's not your job. I want it to be my job."
He drew in a deep breath. "I didn't realize how lonely I was until I adopted my first child, and ever since then, I've been wanting to adopt another one because if having one child is so wonderful, having two children is going to be amazing. And, Jason Todd, I cannot think of a single young man I want for my second son more than I want you."
Jason stared at him, his eyes glistening. "Wh...Why? Why m-me?! I'm not- If you want a kid, there are so many better ones, and, an' clean ones, an' ones who'll do what ya say; why...?! 'M not...!"
"Jason," Bruce whispered, "if you don't want me to adopt you, who will I read books and eat chili dogs with? Not Dick or Uncle Alfred, that's for sure. Dick doesn't like to read, and Alfred wouldn't touch a chili dog with a ten-foot-pole. If I don't have you, then I'll have no one."
Jason looked away and coughed hard, quickly swiping his sleeve across his face. His voice was rough when he said, "Well, since yer so pathetic, mebbe I c'n help ya out jus' a li'l. Jus' fer- Just for a little while."
"We can see how it works out first," Bruce agreed in relief. "I'd rather be just your foster father than no father at all."
o.o.o.o.o
One year later, Bruce's ears perked up when, late in the afternoon, he heard the sound of a school bus stopping on the street outside. A few minutes later, his official, not-foster son came to dump his backpack behind the desk of the children's librarian. Bruce was glad that the school had finally agreed to drop off Jason at the library rather than in the neighborhood where he actually lived, since the arrangement worked out beautifully. "'Sup, Dad."
"Hi, Jay," Bruce said, wrapping his arm around the boy in a side-hug. "How was school?"
"Fine. Did my holds come in?"
"The CD did, but no books, sorry."
"Awww."
"How much homework do you have?"
"Just a page of math, I did the rest at school."
"All right. Finish it before five o'clock and I'll let you unpack the new books," Bruce said, referring to the delivery of brand-new items for the children's collection that had arrived a few hours before.
Jason grinned at him, scooped up the backpack again, and scampered away to study. Around 5:00, Bruce passed the table where he'd been working and was charmed to find Jason sharing a picture book with a four-year-old girl, patiently helping her sound out the letters. The paper next to him was filled with neatly-written math problems, one of them wrong but all work shown. Bruce didn't mind his children getting wrong answers, it just meant more time to spend with them when they went over the assignment together.
For now, though, Jason was busy, so Bruce walked away again without getting his attention, and went back to arranging the new book display behind his desk. There would be plenty of time to talk when he and his son went home together.
o.o.o
A/N: I finished Cass's story, but I'm still not done with Tim's, which is the one that's supposed to be next.