Those little kids forced to live in the dark and were punished with sensory overload, starvation and threat of violent death. So I just issue a general trigger warning for all possible attending PTSD symptoms.

. . .

If Bruce let himself he could have easily pretended he was in Gordon's office reading a file on any number of criminals. It was all so similar. The only difference was instead of crime scene photos and mug shots, it was the faces of children that looked up at him from the brown folder.

Batman had been handed the file and left alone to read it. Like the detective he was, he did so very thoroughly. Rain pattered lightly against the window as he read through it. One by one eight young faces peered up at him with a name listed beside them. Leslie had told him that many of the children had been identified, their birth records found. Many had not, and those children continued to go by the names they'd always known. Looking at them, Bruce wondered vaguely which names were chosen and which had just been accepted. One boy of six, unable to speak and still unidentified, had his name listed beside his photo as "Michael". Quotation marks included.

Batman looked to the door as the knob turned and it creaked open. A kind faced woman in her mid twenties popped her head in. "Um, hi Batman."

"Hello." He said, white hooded eyes not intending to pierce through her soul but doing so nonetheless.

"Are you finished getting acquainted with our resident's info?"

He put the file on the desk. "I am."

The woman smiled and opened the door all the way. "Good, then I can introduce you."

Batman hesitated. She held an arm through the door indicating he should come along with her. As he strode across that cramped office he felt certain this was the most unusual experience he'd ever had in his tenure as the Batman.

"Sorry to make you wait so long. We had to make sure the other children were all upstairs for a movie first." Then she chuckled softly. "It would be chaos if they all knew you were here."

He followed her silently down the hallway until they came to a large window set next to a door that was painted with flowers and butterflies. The window was dotted with a few colorful stickers. On the other side of it, eight children of various ages played, colored and looked at books. Bruce could hear music faintly playing in the room.

"We designated this room after your rescue." The kind faced woman said." There were so many kids and fear of the dark manifested in most of them the first night. We needed a space they could feel safe in twenty four seven. This group are all here now… well because they usually want to be, but I told them they have a special visitor. They're going to be so pleased when it's you and not another counselor."

Bruce nodded as he looked through the glass. The overhead fluorescent lights were not switched on. Instead, soft warm light glowed from multiple sources in the room. A few strings of light criss crossed the ceiling from one corner of the room to another. There was a tall lamp by a short bookshelf with kid's books spilling out of it. A few smaller lamps of various shapes sat here and there on tables or just on the floor. He noticed a turned off flashlight laying on its side near one of the boys as he played.

"We're so grateful Dr. Thompkins got in touch with you." He tore his gaze away from the window to look at the woman standing beside him. Unsure what to say to that he simply gave another nod. The woman pointed, drawing his attention to the side of the room where an enormous number of crayon and water color pictures hung on a bulletin board. Leslie had not been exaggerating. A good half of them featured or involved Batman, or at least something clearly intended to be Batman. "You're a pretty popular guy with this crowd." He could feel her smiling up at him. He was relieved when she stepped to the side and finally opened the door. That relief vanished to mist as soon as he found himself towering over a room full of small children.

Everything stopped. Eyes lit up. No matter what Leslie or the other woman had told him, Bruce was still shocked not to see fear in their faces. The first thing he did was locate "Michael". He was very concerned his presence would distress the boy. He found him sitting on the carpet with his back to the wall concentrating very hard on an etch-a-sketch.

"Kids," the gentle voice beside him said. "Batman wanted to come say hi today. Do you remember him?"

They responded with vigorous nodding.

"Batman," she said, voice directed at him this time. He was still staring at the faces in the room. "I'll come get you in a half hour." He felt her hand touch his caped shoulder. "Thank you so much for coming."

He would have liked to say 'Don't thank me. I can't say no to my godmother.'

When the door clicked behind him he let out the breath he was unaware he'd been holding. A quick scan of the space found just two adult sized chairs. Eight pairs of eyes followed him as he walked across the room to take one. He placed it next to a children's sized table that was strewn with toys and art supplies. A little girl sat on the other side of it, crayon in hand, just looking at him. There was no fear in her eyes. That was good. She actually looked relaxed and comfortable. He felt acutely aware of how his own massive form dwarfed both her and the table. He was certain the smile he managed to produce matched how awkward he must look.

One by one, attentions returned to games and tasks. Bruce sighed and looked around. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing. Visiting and sitting had been the requested verbs so there he was. A little stereo in the corner played a cheerful classical piece. It reminded him of Alfred ironing shirts or washing dishes and helped put him at ease. The small girl scribbling away at the table in front of him was Julie. Age five he recalled from the file. Nonverbal. Looking at her he found himself suddenly growing frustrated. His anger, usually such valuable fuel, was useless here and yet he couldn't keep it from rising. He took the next moment to just focus on the ferocious movements of the girl's crayon and steady his emotions. That's when Bruce found himself appreciating the room's warm lighting which then immediately reminded him these kids had been tortured by a monster. He had followed Leslie's lead and also read some of the initial testimonies from the case before coming. Punishments by blinding fluorescence and starvation. He forced himself to banish those thoughts and then continued his visual trip around the room.

Laying on the floor, stacking blocks into different structures and muttering softly with each other, were two children named Alisha and Sammy. Unrelated but bonded like siblings, she was seven and he was six. Both of them could not tolerate darkness of any kind. Both had a clear diagnosis of PTSD. More of note, they had each other. That was however a small part of the reason they were still at the center. The adults involved had the decency not to separate them, but it did complicate placing them.

On a bean bag across the room the oldest of the eight kids looked at a book. Bruce didn't need to have read it in a file to know she never learned to read in the sewers. Her name was Tara. Since coming to the center she had been getting reading and writing lessons. Her file included positive notes on her brightness and eagerness. As an almost ten year old she would have been one of the Sewer King's earliest acquisitions. Despite that fact, the file also said she was quite verbose. Limited vocabulary and speech impediments notwithstanding. But she was learning. Like her companions she became gripped with terror if the lights went off. She also had to be supervised by a staff member at meal times. If left to herself she would eat and drink as much as she could as fast as she could and make herself sick. As Bruce looked at her he saw her gaze lift from her book to meet his. She smiled at him brightly. Batman smiled back. Then her eyes dropped back to her book. She reminded Bruce of Dick around that same age, traumatized and yet still a source of sunshine.

At another short table three boys were playing with legos and small action figures. The one among them who could talk, was narrating a fantastic tale of an epic battle. His two companions were clearly invested and played along. Their eyes were focused and alive but their mouths were shut tight. Bruce couldn't help but smirk a bit as the vocal child also reminded him of Dick at a younger age. He found it hard to imagine that such a vibrant child would fall apart completely at the flick of a light switch, but James did just that. According to a note in his file, the eight year had lost his voice his first night at the center. The boy also horded food at every opportunity, even if it rotted in his possession.

Bruce's hands involuntarily tightened into fists so he looked up at the string lights and took a breath.

The two little boys playing with James were a five year old named Bing and a seven year old named Andy. Some of the older children had told authorities Bing's name and no other had been given. Both boys could not or would not speak. The trauma therapist on staff had been seeing some progress with Julie, but none so far with these two. They only ever opened their mouths to eat. They, like their older friend, could not stand to be in the dark. Andy didn't go anywhere without his flashlight. It had been one kind police officer's gift to him the day he'd left the sewer. Bing had apparently drawn the majority of the Batman pictures on the bulletin board. An adult had written his name in the corner of each one. Andy had not left the building since his initial arrival. When asked why he didn't want to go outside, his only response had been to draw a crocodile. Little Bing suffered on the other end of the eating spectrum from Tara. He was rail thin, most of his caloric intake coming in liquid form. He followed Andy everywhere probably because of the emotional security the flashlight offered.

Bruce looked across the room to find Michael still sitting by himself and carefully turning the dials on his etch-a-sketch. Leslie's comment about his fear of adult men had stuck with him. He did not want to terrorize the child and still felt relief at seeing no signs of distress. As he sat watching him work, Bruce had to remind himself that he wasn't Bruce in that room. He was Batman and little Michael clearly did not register Batman as a threat. Batman didn't look like a regular man, but instead like a storybook knight, a hero. More than that, the child had witnessed him strike down the regular man who had hurt him. Michael bore a number of ugly scars on his hands, but it had not been determined whether they were from his time in the sewer or his life before.

On the wall above where he sat were two posters on ASL. One of them was the alphabet and the other contained a collection of simple signs for every day. Back in the office Bruce had read that Michael, Julie, Bing and Andy all spent a few hours a week with an ASL teacher who came regularly to the center. They had apparently been making strides in communicating that way. Bruce was always glad he'd learned it. Countless times it had come in handy or been completely necessary. He'd required Dick to learn it early on.

The classical piece that made him think of Alfred ended and another, slightly slower one, began. A glance at the clock on the wall told him he had most of the thirty minutes still ahead of him. That's when he felt something brush his knee. He looked down to see Julie standing there with her arms raised. He paused, uncertain that he was reading the universal sign for 'pick me up' correctly. She held her arms up for as long as he hesitated, like they were playing a game of chicken. Batman folded first. Carefully he lifted her onto his lap and proceeded to sit as stiff and awkwardly as a mannequin. She took one of his comparatively massive gloved hands between both of her tiny ones and began to trace her fingers along the black material. She tapped her fingers lightly on it in random patterns.
Bruce just watched her for a little while, the awkward tension slowly leaving him.

"Hello." he said quietly. She didn't meet his eyes and didn't speak. But she did smile. He smiled too.

In Bruce's peripheral, Bing subtly left the Lego game and moved to the table where he started working a black crayon down to a nub. Bruce suspected he knew what was coming.

Alisha and Sammy had sat up cross legged and now faced towards where he sat. Sammy whispered in Alisha's ear and she spoke up. "Did the crocodiles almost eat you?" That question got Andy's attention and he quickly covered his ears.

"Almost." Bruce said, wincing inwardly at the sight of the seven year old covering his ears, eyes squeezed shut.

James piped up from his table. "Where's you know who?"

Bruce didn't have to ask who. "Prison."

The boy nodded approvingly.

Bruce froze as Julie suddenly leaned against his chest and stayed leaning there. She began idly poking at the bat symbol. Bruce brought a hand up and gave her one gentle pat on the shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Tara got up from her bean bag and took a seat at his table. She picked up a yellow sheet of construction paper and a marker and set to work. When she was done she folded the sheet and set it aside. "Mr. Batman?" she said looking up at him.

"Hi. Yes?"

"Did you have to get a new cape after the sewer?" She asked.

Bruce hesitated but then let himself smile as some of the other kids started giggling at the question.

"That one was washed." He said. "But I have a few."

"That's good, 'cause we threw away our sewer clothes. They gave us new ones. This is my favorite outfit." She gestured to her jeans and floral shirt.

"Everything smelled like poop!" Sammy stated matter of factly. He'd clearly found his confidence to speak to Batman. Bruce nodded with a chuckle. "I'll bet."

Kids started laughing again.

Andy came over and silently held out his flashlight to show Batman. "That's a good flashlight, son." Bruce said. He reached behind and unlocked a flashlight from his utility belt and handed it to him. "This is the one I use in the dark." The boy looked at it intently and clicked both flashlights on and off a few times. Bruce decided he wasn't concerned if his didn't make it back to his belt. Specifically he hoped Bing might be coming into a new flashlight soon. James asked what else was in the yellow belt and Bruce told him a few of the helpful items he kept there.

Bing finished his drawing and promptly waved his hand around in the air. When Bruce looked his way he held it up the picture for him to see. It was of Batman, or at least a pointy eared black blob with a yellow line across its middle, standing with a multitude of stick figure kids. He pointed at Bruce.

"That's you and us!" Alisha helpfully translated.

Bruce just smiled at him. He did not know what one said in that situation.

Out the corner of his eye he noticed Michael had set his toy down and was smiling and following the conversation.

"I was told some of you are learning to sign." Bruce offered to the group. "I can read sign language if you want to practice."

Michael suddenly launched himself off the floor and a second later was in a chair next to Batman. He wanted to talk to Batman, but had obviously assumed he wouldn't be able to. Right away he asked if Batman could fly. Bruce grinned. "Not without help." He explained that he used his cape, ropes and other tools to "fly.

Julie sat up straight. She turned so she was facing up at Bruce and signed "I'm five!", the exclamation point coming from her eyes.

Bruce nodded with a little smile. Again, he was uncertain what kind of replies were required for such interactions.

Michael followed suit, signing out that he was six. Bing did the same. Andy was too engrossed in the flashlights to join in.

Bruce told them 'thank you' along with the sign for it. The three little faces beamed up at him.

Julie then hopped off his lap and went to sit with Bing. They both picked up crayons again and went back to work drawing. Bruce noticed the table contained extra black and yellow crayons. A glance at the bulletin board reminded him why.

Sammy and Alisha, still sitting on the floor, James at the other table and Tara at Batman's table all began chatting to him at the same time. He listened and tried to answer their questions and the things they told him. They asked about his cowl, about crime fighting and if he liked pizza. Did he ever trip on his cape? Once or twice. Did he live in cave or an attic? A cave. (That was half true.) Did getting punched in the face hurt? Yes. At the same time he tracked Michael's basic signed questions and tried to answer those too. Andy was content to just hold his two flashlights and listen. This continued for quite sometime, and all the while Batman drawing after Batman drawing was presented to Bruce by Bing and Julie. At one point James asked if he was scared of the dark and all the children fell silent to hear the answer. Bruce looked around at them. He considered his answer. It was a definite no, but that seemed so… unfair. So he looked James in the eye and said in all seriousness, "The dark is afraid of me." James' eyes widened and then he broke into a big grin. The other kids smiled too and then, so did Batman. It was a good thing Dick wasn't there. Otherwise Bruce would never live those words down.

The door opened and the entire group, Batman included, looked toward it. The kind faced woman appeared to inform them it was time for Batman to go.

When Batman stood up Andy held out the flashlight from the utility belt. Bruce gently pushed it back towards him. "You keep it." Andy gave him a big smile and hugged his leg. That broke the dam and little bodies started crashing into his legs from all sides. In the melee he managed to kneel down. There he accepted hugs one at a time from each child. Alisha planted a kiss on his cowl. Bruce heard it more than he felt it.

Before he got up, Tara handed him the folded sheet of yellow construction paper she'd set aside earlier. "Open it after you leave." She said looking a bit embarrassed.

"Alright." He said. "Thank you, Tara."

Then she smiled brightly. "You're welcome!"

When he got to his feet Julie and Bing ran to the table and gathered up their pictures. Bruce took each one as they were handed up to him. "Thank you." He told them along with the sign. They both replied 'you're welcome' with big smiles.

The kids followed him to the door. He turned to them and told them he was so happy to have met them all… again. "I hope I can come back and see you soon." He looked to the kind faced woman for confirmation. "Of course you can!" She said enthusiastically. Eight heads nodded their agreement.

Bruce gave a last wave to the group and followed the woman out. He heard Sammy yell "Bye bye Batman!" It made him smile as he was led down the hallway and into a large kitchen. There, he was shown to a side door that opened onto an alley.

He stepped out into the rain.

"Thank you Batman. This meant so much to them." The woman said.

"I-" he began but stopped. "Thank you." He said simply instead.

Then he was gone.

.

Bruce stepped from the Batmobile and pulled off his cowl. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the familiar vast silence fill his senses. A few bats squeaked in the darkness above and Alfred appeared. "Master Bruce." He greeted him. "How did it go?" Bruce responded by handing him the stack of crinkled papers. Alfred took it and began shuffling through the drawings. "Oh my!" He said with a chuckle. "It appears you have made quite the impression."

"There are even more at the children's center, Alfred." Bruce said as he went to sit down. There he took out Tara's yellow construction paper from where he'd tucked it in his belt. He unfolded it to find a short note inside. Written in a deliberate, childlike hand with capital letters going at a slant, the note simply read 'thank you Batman'. Bruce stared at it for a long moment. He did not even know this girl but he was so proud of her, so impressed by her. Alfred caught him wiping a stray tear. "Sir?"

"It's nothing Alfred." Bruce said and tucked the paper away again. Alfred nodded, a knowing smile ghosting across his face. "Very good." He set the papers down and moved off to attend to something else. He was not surprised the following day to find the yellow note carefully smoothed open and sitting on the computer desk. It remained there for a couple of days before it was put it away somewhere safe.

Bruce Wayne never did throw that note away.