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The Birds Who Smile , a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlDeleted scene: Psychiatry Fail (rough draft)

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A/N: I have a lot of ideas that will never work for the main story, but since I'm writing at least some of them anyway, might as well post them.
Oops, almost forgot to add that I no longer warn about triggers in my M-rated or unrated fics. Some warnings might be in the AO3 tags, but not all, so proceed at your own risk.
 o.o.o 
"I give you: the FLYING GRAYSONS!! Witness this amazing family - father, mother, and son - perform feats such as you've never seen before...!"
 o.o.o Predictably, John would not take the medication, either by swallowing the pills or by eating or drinking anything they had been crushed and mixed into. "Johnny," Dick coaxed, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands, "you know how you've been so scared and unhappy? This medicine is supposed to help with that. It's to help you feel better, so you can relax and not be so scared all the time. We put it in the pudding, I know you like pudding because I like pudding, and it makes the medicine taste better. Nothing bad will happen, Johnny." The boy showed absolutely no reaction, and turned his face away when a spoonful of drug-laced pudding was brought to his mouth. "Johnny, please! You have to take it, and if you don't take it like this, then you're going to have to take it a not-fun way." John was unmoved, at the height of Grayson stubbornness. When Bruce, Alfred, and Dick finally got at least some of the pills into him by mixing a dose with juice and administering it with an oral syringe, John promptly vomited it back up and then looked at his tormentors with an expression that would have had half of Gotham's criminals fleeing for their lives. "John," Bruce said darkly, and the boy shrank back in fear. "You will take your medication, and if you don't cooperate with the treats or the syringe, we're going to use a needle. Do you understand? Either you take the pills yourself, or I will make you take them." John stared back, afraid and silent. "I'm going to call your doctor." They got the medication in a form that could be injected, then gave John one last chance, presenting him with a treat, a syringe, and a capped needle. He trembled and sang in agonized birdsong and cried, then at last, he reached out a shaking hand to the little cup of pudding. He could barely get it down no matter how carefully they fed it to him, and then a moment later, he threw it back up, not even deliberately this time. Dick, already harassed and hanging by a thread, took one look at his little counterpart's stricken, tear-stained face and burst into tears himself. "It's not your fault," Bruce said heavily, resting a hand on Dick's back because John would not find his touch comforting. "John, it's not your fault. I know you're upset, the medicine will help with that, but I understand why it's difficult for you to take it." "Kill me," the boy signed shakily. "Johnny...." The child looked like an empty little husk beyond resisting when they held him still and injected him. It was a relief to everyone when he fell asleep soon afterward. o.o.o.o.o [chirp-chirp] felt strange when he woke up. Maybe it was the light, shining so bright and sweet through the windows, making the curtains glow and picking out all his toys and art and all the colors on everything. His flockmates that he loved so much were curled close to him, Master quiet and still on the other side of the room was nice This Master instead of evil That Master. Something wasn't right. "[chirp-chirp]?" [warble] asked sleepily, and [chirp-chirp] hugged him to reassure him. "You slept a long time," [caw] told him. "Master hurt me??" [chirp-chirp] asked anxiously. 
"Don't know. You were scared and then asleep."
 [chirp-chirp] thought back. Master and all the traitors had held him down and forced poison into him, and when he wouldn't let the bad thing stay inside his body, they'd put it inside him again so that he couldn't get it out. He knew what was wrong now. Or...one of the things that was wrong. There was more, he didn't know yet, but this was one of them. The good people were not good, they were bad and betrayed him because they loved Master more than him, they had tied him down and poisoned him, and he wasn't upset. That was the wrong thing, that he wasn't upset. 'Something is wrong.' He was uneasy, and started to feel like his body wasn't all the way his anymore. He felt like he was too light, floating a little, like he didn't fit all the way in this body. Master was watching him now. "~~ you feeling, John?" [chirp-chirp] was not going to tell Master anything he was thinking, but his stomach was very empty. That Master liked that, but This Master was always trying to make [chirp-chirp] eat and eat and eat and eat, so maybe...maybe This Master would feed him if he asked. This Master probably wouldn't punish him, because he was nice when he was pretending. "...Hungry." He waited, in case This Master turned into That Master and Laughed and hit him. Instead, This Master cried "Happy relieved happy!!" with his body. "Yes, ~~ come ~~ kitchen, John, ~~ you ~~ eat." This Master was still nice and pretending, so [chirp-chirp] took his hand, and that made Master very surprised and happy, too. It made [caw] and [warble] scared, though; they trailed far behind. "[chirp-chirp], you okay?! You okay?!" [caw] asked anxiously. "Master bad man!" [warble] reminded him. 
"Yes. It's okay. Master touch me, not hurt me; if Master hurt me, doesn't hurt you."
 They watched closely the whole time Master helped him sit in the food room and brought a 'plate' and put things to eat on it that were not bad meat or rotten. Everything was so colorful, [chirp-chirp] liked that. "You don't ~~ ask ~~ your food, John. ~~ eat ~~ you like." The food was right in front of [chirp-chirp], not out of reach, so he didn't ask for it, he just started putting the food in his mouth, and Master did not get angry or hit him. The food hit his stomach and hurt a little. He stopped, and thought. He had not been eating, he remembered. He wasn't hungry, wasn't hungry, and even when he was hungry, Master wanted him to eat, so he didn't want to eat. [chirp-chirp] slowly took another bite. Something was wrong. He felt nice, he felt light, he felt like the world wasn't bad or scary, but something was wrong wrong wrong. Why was he doing everything Master wanted when he'd been trying for so long to make Master angry? "Feel better," [big chirp-chirp] had told him, when they put the poison in him. They had poisoned him and then.... 'It's a lie.' That's what the poison did. It didn't make his body feel bad; instead, the poison lied to him. Master had found a way to make [chirp-chirp]'s own body lie to him. "Safe," his body told him. "Safe. Peace. Rest." MASTER HAD TAKEN [CHIRP-CHIRP]'S BODY AWAY FROM HIM. [chirp-chirp] didn't have a body anymore, he was a ghost floating, he wasn't a, he wasn't anything, he was.... He ran, and ran, and Master was chasing him, and yes, this was good, except his body kept saying, "Why??" His body wanted to stop and rest and eat. 'No!' He couldn't trust his own thoughts. Everything was lying to him, everything, everything, even his own self was lying to him. He stopped, because he couldn't run away from himself. Master had made his own body a prison, [chirp-chirp] could never escape from it. Master was coming, Master grabbed him, but that was okay. Master could tie him and hit him and make him Laugh, it was okay; he knew the only way to escape. He found the Spot and dove in. o.o.o Applause and cheering. A drumroll, the bright lights and colors, the smell, it was all beautiful. His parents already swinging, Mom and Dad flying, now it was his turn. He was so high, nothing bad could ever reach him to touch him, he stepped to the edge, the bar solid and reassuring in his hands, he leaped, and he flew ...! o.o.o "John. John!" Bruce had caught up, but the boy was scaring him. John had gone completely still and blank, no expression on his face, no life in his eyes. It was like he was asleep standing up. "Johnny! Johnny, wake up. John-- Dickie, look at me! Dick...!" o.o.o 
There were mean people outside the tent, trying to get in when they hadn't paid admission and wanted to start a ruckus, but that was okay. The roustabouts would handle them. All Dick had to do was look at his parents' smiles and fly, so he did.
 o.o.o It took three hours for John to stop dissociating, and when he did, it was even worse than the behavior they'd sought the medicine for in the first place. He refused to eat; he constantly went into screaming fits or would destroy things or try to take off running. He lashed out at everyone but his bird brothers, who could only calm him by lying on him and twittering ceaselessly in his ears as he cried. He finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. o.o.o.o.o When John woke up late the next morning, he seemed lethargic and unhappy, but was no longer throwing fits or making escape attempts. He zombied through some semblance of a morning routine, allowing himself to be dressed like a doll but refusing to eat or play. The psychiatrist soon arrived to do another evaluation and see if there was something wrong with the prescription - Bruce had collected as much data as he could for them both to analyze, everything from blood and urine samples to documented observations to readings from John's tracker - but her conclusion was that the boy's bad reaction was purely psychological. "As far as I can tell, he's physically fine, the medication should have worked as intended. You said he seemed more relaxed and compliant at first, right?" Still, she left them with a different prescription, with instructions to be persistent if he continued to resist. "Some kids are just contrary by nature. He'll settle down once he realizes how much better he feels when he takes his meds than when he doesn't." o.o.o.o.o "John, it's time to take your medicine." The first real sign of life he showed was to grab the cup of pudding and hurl it across the room. "John. If you don't eat it yourself, we're going to have to make you take it. Don't you remember that it made you feel better for a little while?" This time, although he still refused to ingest the medication himself, he did not struggle when they gave it to him with the oral syringe, and he did not throw it up. However, as soon as they released him, he fixed his eyes on a point on the ceiling and dissociated for half a day. o.o.o Dick was telling them all about the red dragon-bat, trying to keep still while Mom cut his hair and Dad mended a tear his costume. "He's soooo fluffy! He's not actually as soft as he looks, but he's so nice, he's got giant huge claws and teeth like a monster, but he's so gentle with Warble even though Warble's so much littler than him--" 
"What on earth is that?" Dad asked, frowning.
 
Dick could hear it, too, the man's tearful voice calling distantly from the other side of the trailer, but he hadn't thought it'd be worth noticing. "Oh, that's just Big Chirp-chirp. He wants me to come out, that's all; but don't worry, I won't."
 
"What a strange name," Mom remarked.
 
"Yeah, it's 'cause he's for us what I am for Caw and Warble, and Trill when she was alive. His name should really be Traitor Chirp-chirp, though, because he's nice but he's BAD, he pretended he loved us but really it was Batman he loved all along."
 
"Oh, that's terrible. My poor darling...." Mom hugged him and kissed his cheek, then told him to hold still again so she could finish cutting his hair.
 
"Anyway, so Warble's, like, TINY compared to Goliath--"
 "Johnny, please!" the man's voice went on crying. "Please, we won't make you take it anymore, just please come back, please come back, Johnnybird...!" 
"--but Goliath is so gentle with him, I don't think he'd ever even sit on him by accident...."
 And then, much later, when Dick was giving Zitka a bath, "John, please...you can hate me, just please come back to us...." 
"Zitka, sing!" Dick signaled, and he laughed when his oldest friend trumpeted cheerfully, drowning out the Batman's voice.
 o.o.o When John finally returned, it was back to the screaming and crying and running and destroying until, Bruce realized, the effects of the drug would have worn off, at which point he went back into zombie mode. 'He's resisting it. He knows what it's doing to him, and he's resisting it, and his anguish is even worse than it was before we started trying to medicate him to be happier.' The next day, John wouldn't even get out of bed. Bruce finally came in and showed him the bottle of medicine, and crushed it. "No more. If you get sick, we will give you medicine then, but we're not going to give you medicine for your feelings anymore." John was still and silent as he watched the display, but his face held interest rather than its usual blank expression. When the trash bag with the shattered medicine bottle and its contents was taken away, John slowly sat up, and studied Bruce for a long moment. "Food," he finally signed. "You're hungry?" Bruce asked hopefully. 
"Food."
 Bruce offered him a protein bar and a nutrition shake. John, staring at him the whole time, allowed himself to be fed five small bites of the bar and three sips of the shake. Then he turned his head away, clearly signaling that the tiny meal was now over. Bruce gazed at the little boy. Each movement had been so deliberate, it had been a performance. John had condescended to eat a little, not to nourish himself, but to reward his captors for discontinuing their latest form of torture. "Are you sure it's not us who's being subjected to your every whim...?" o.o.o A/N: I know that there are some cases where people do benefit from psychiatric treatment, but I don't feel like it's the right fit for this story. I'm currently drafting "What would happen if the birds went into general foster care?", but it's turning out to be so long that I might finish a different deleted segment first. Also working on the next chapter of the main story - I think I might have at least one day in-universe before it gets too complicated to continue without more organization.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 1 (rough draft)
 A/N: In the main story, the birds' legal status has not been finalized yet, but it has been here. o.o.o Bruce's ideal social worker was Jennifer Yang, who had no life outside her job because she ate, slept, and breathed her mission of getting as many children as possible into the best family care. Unfortunately for Bruce, her caseload was even larger than most of her overworked associates', and she would not be swayed by money. "Mr. Wayne," she told him over the phone, "while I deeply appreciate everything you have done for the children of this city, if I took on your children's case, others would suffer. I know you have the resources to make sure your kids are taken care of. I'm sorry I can't help you." "I understand," he said reluctantly. The social worker who ended up assigned to John, Peter, and Jack was Lydia Trellis. Bruce researched her extensively, and although she wasn't his ideal choice, she knew ASL and wasn't involved in any shady dealings and she had a decent track record with the children on her watch. On her first visit, the boys, while not exactly warm toward her, didn't seem to dislike her, and she was able to get the younger two engaged in a game. "They seem to be behaving themselves pretty well right now. What is it that triggers the violent episodes and self-harm?" "I'm hoping that just a fresh environment and different caregivers will help with the anxiety. They do better with my older children and my butler than they do with me - or, Jack actually got along quite well with me until his brothers convinced him that I'm the Man Who Laughs. The self-harm is a pretty recent development and seems like a reaction to stress, so I'm hoping that will sort itself out if Jack feels more secure. Peter seems to have the least anxiety, but he does tend to throw...tantrums, when he's upset. John...John is the one I'm worried about the most. He...." Bruce trailed off, trying to think of a way to express his concern objectively. "He's just so unhappy, he feels like he'd be better off dead than alive. I just want...I want him to be happy. I want him to...to want to live." "Has he seen a psychiatrist?" "Yes." Bruce felt like it was better not to elaborate on that fiasco. "Medication didn't work, so we decided to try other options. I really think that if he finds a home he feels safe in, the suicidal feelings will dissipate." "Why does he not feel safe here?" she asked sharply. Bruce tried not to let his offense show. "He is absolutely safe here, he just doesn't feel safe because he thinks that I'm the person who Jokerized him. No matter how many times we explain that his abuser is dead and he's in a new home now, he simply won't believe us. If you can convince him, I'd be very grateful." "John," Lydia called. No response. "John, come here." After a while, she went over to crouch beside him. "John, honey, I want to ask you a question. Did someone hurt you?" His eyes flickered, then focused on her a little disdainfully. "These scars, honey," she said, lightly touching his neck. "Who did this to you?" There was a long pause. "...Bad Laugh Man." "'Bad Laugh Man'? Who is that?" John bared his teeth a little and pointed at Bruce, who tried not to tense. "Bruce? Bruce made this scar here, from the collar you wore?" 
"Neck hurt."
 "Does you neck hurt right now, or did it hurt back then?" "Tight. Ha ha ha ha ha." "Let me see, honey." She gently guided his head, watching him for any indication of pain. He looked, if anything, a little bored the whole time. "How does that feel?" He didn't answer. "So it hurt back then, in the past, right? Did Bruce ever hurt you after the collar came off?" 
"Kill me."
 "He tried to kill you??" she asked skeptically. Bruce couldn't describe what he saw in John's face, but he suddenly detected a change and leaped up. It was too late, however; John was now snarling and clawing at Lydia, who was shrieking as she tried to fend him off. Bruce managed to pry John off of her and get him into a restraining hold. Then he just knelt there and waited it out, holding the furious boy as Lydia shakily straightened herself up. At last, John went still and quiet. "John, I am going to let go. If you try to hurt anyone, I will hold you again. Do not hurt people." Bruce cautiously let go, and John scrambled to hide behind the couch. Bruce finally looked at Lydia, who made a face. "I see." "I want him to go to foster parents who are experienced," Bruce said quickly. "People who won't be intimidated by him or overreact, and obviously people who won't respond to violence with violence." "We'll take care of him," Lydia said confidently. "Don't worry, I've had kids like him before. We'll find parents who know what to do." Bruce didn't feel reassured by this, but couldn't think of any specific concern to voice. The visit ended soon after that, and he was left with an excess of anxious energy that he went to work off in the Batcave. Over the next few days, Lydia worked to secure a foster home for the boys, and Bruce, who had insisted that they be placed together, shamelessly spied on the proceedings. Many potential foster parents declined when they realized that the children were the Jokerized, bloody-fanged monstrosities from the news stories of the apocalypse. Some were willing to take one of the boys, but not all three. One couple agreed at first, but then tearfully turned down John and Jack when they learned of the suicidal tendencies and self-harm, having had tragic past experience with their biological child. One couple backed out when they learned that the boys communicated partially in sign language, even after being told that the children could hear. In the end, no placement was found for all three brothers. Bruce sat staring at the Batcomputer. The sound of footsteps rapidly approached, and he looked over to see Tim. He had thought that his son was working on a Bat project, but from the look on his face, Bruce could tell that the young man had been listening in on the same phone call Bruce had just overheard. "I'm not letting Gotham take him," Tim said flatly. "...What's your plan?" Tim turned away, making a call on his cell. "Mendez & Holt, how may I help you?" a chipper voice asked. "Hi, April. It's Tim Drake." 
"Mr. Drake, hi! What's up?"
 "What's up is that I need to adopt Jack." "Whaaaat?!" she exclaimed in dismay. "But you said you wanted to be designated his brother!!" "His emancipated brother. He's not doing well with Bruce, and I'm not letting him go into foster care if he's going to be split from the other kids, so I'm taking him." 
"Hmmmm. There's no precedent for this and you're super-rich, so we can probably get it done, but it's going to take a little time, Mr. Drake."
 Tim was silent for a moment, dismayed. "...How much time?" 
"Can't tell at this point; obviously I gotta fill in JoAnn. Ooohh, she's going to be so mad!"
 "Just...get me Jack as soon as possible, I've got a bad feeling about this." As soon as Tim hung up, Bruce called Dick, who'd been hiding in Blüdhaven. "Dick, no one can take all three birds." Dick swore explosively. "I...I can't--!" "I know you don't feel capable of raising children right now, Dick, but I'm just letting you know, if you don't take John, he is going to be alone in the foster system." 
"...I'm coming to Gotham. I'm assuming you're going to wire up all the placement homes with surveillance?"
 "Do you even need to ask?" Tim snorted in the background. A few hours later, Lydia called to break the news officially. "Mr. Wayne, I've got some news you're not going to like...." Trying to tell the children was awful. "Boys," Bruce said gently, crouching down in front of the children who were cowering away from him, "I know you are very unhappy and frightened here, so...I found a way for you to leave." They stared at him. "The problem is...you can only leave this house if the three of you separate. You're going to go to different homes. Jack, Tim wants you to live with him, but you have to live somewhere else for a little while until he is allowed to take you. In the meantime...." He couldn't continue, because John and Jack were crying now, and he couldn't speak without crying, too. The night before the boys' departure, the whole family gathered for a miserable final meal together. No one spoke much, except for Peter whispering his morsel requests to Dick as if they were secrets. Jack, also clinging to his oldest brother, avoided his own plate but stole liberally off of Dick's. John resisted all attempts to get him to eat, fixing Bruce with an intensely malevolent gaze that the man attempted to ignore. "Dick," Dick finally snapped, fed up, "Mama wants you to eat. Mom will be very sad if you don't eat." After a long pause, John, with his eyes still fixed on Bruce, lowered his chin to the tabletop and slowly pushed food into his mouth. He chewed as if he imagined it was Laughs's bones he was crunching between his teeth. After a few bites, he stood up and started making his way over to Bruce. "No," Cassandra said in alarm. "Do not--" Bruce pushed his chair back from the table, raising his arms in a defensive way without thinking, right when John suddenly broke into a run and flew at him. They grappled for a minute, John screaming as he attempted to tear out the man's eyes and Bruce struggling to protect himself and get John under control. For a while, no one knew what to do - Bruce could not look at his family as he kept John pinned to the floor; the boy shrieked and crowed as if he was still a Jokerized monster skittering at the feet of the Batman Who Laughs, with Cassandra's attempts to soothe him having no effect. Tim was long gone, having taken Jack with him. Dick was holding back Peter, who was struggling furiously to rescue his older flockmate, and simultaneously trying to comfort Damian, who was nearly crying as he shouted for the birds to calm down and be reasonable. Duke and Alfred, both feeling distressed and useless, started cleaning up just to have something to do. John finally went quiet when he fell into his passive-aggressive zombie state. Cassandra gathered him into her arms, and Bruce headed straight for the cave. Everyone got up earlier than usual the next morning, red-eyed and downhearted. Tim held Jack for several long minutes before finally managing to pull away and go to work. Bruce paced the manor restlessly; Cassandra and Duke kept the birds occupied as Alfred, occasionally having to stop to clear his eyes, finished packing the last of their things. Damian, hugging Titus, watched as Dick paced around and around his room, waiting for the call to connect. "Lydia - it's Dick Grayson. I tried to call you last night, but you weren't answering." 
"I'm sorry, Dick, I had a lot going on last night. I'll be at the manor in an hour or so, can it wait until then?"
 "No, because you don't need to come to the manor at all. I'm taking them - John, Peter, and Jack, I'm taking them to Blüdhaven with me. My sister and brother are coming to help me look after them. You don't need to come, they're not going into foster care." 
".......Mr. Grayson, this isn't the sort of decision you can make last-minute."
 "John is mine! He is LEGALLY my son--!" 
"And you signed papers stating that you cannot care for him--"
 "But I didn't give up my parental rights, and now I can take care of him!" 
"You're unemployed, Mr. Grayson."
 "I still have money!" Dick shouted. For the children's sake, he had swallowed his pride and agreed to let Bruce completely finance whatever parts of the birds' upbringing Dick himself couldn't afford. "I can show you my bank statements! I can take care of them now, I have help, they don't need to go into foster care!" 
"Look, Mr. Grayson, you can start proceedings to regain sole custody of John if you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you do not

currently

have proof that you can meet

all

his needs - I am especially concerned about his mental health - and you have no say in what happens to the younger children."
 Dick was speechless for a moment. 
"If that's all, Mr. Grayson, I'll see you--"
 "No. NO. Those kids do not belong in foster care, and I'm not letting you take them." 
"Mr. Grayson, I'd hate to have to get the police involved, or for you to do anything that would hurt your chances of getting John back."
 "Are you threatening me?" 
"I am

trying

to help you. I'll be HAPPY help you get sole custody of John, but like I said, that is not going to happen today, and he

will

be safe until you're able to prove your ability to raise him. I want what's best for these children, Mr. Gr--"
 Dick hung up, hurled his phone at the bed, bellowed so loudly that he frightened Titus, then sat down heavily and buried his hands in his hair. "...If you'd like me to abduct the children in a way that can't be traced back to you," Damian offered, "I can--" "No, Dami," Dick said thickly. "Let's just...let's just see if this is a decent placement, first. Not all foster homes are bad, maybe the kids will have more freaking luck than I did...." To be continued.... A/N: When April said there's no precedent, she meant for the "emancipated seventeen-year-old wants to adopt his younger alternate universe self" situation.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 2 (rough draft)
 A/N: The birds have been to a dentist by now, so they have normal teeth instead of fangs. o.o.o Lydia drove up at 10:26 a.m. The family was waiting for her in the foyer, Bruce out of sight so as not to distress the birds. Lydia stared around at everyone, looking caught off guard by how many people were staring at her. "Well...good morning." She tried to smile at the boys. "John, Peter, Jack, are you ready to go?" They stared back at her, their eyes wide with apprehension. "Ms. Trellis," Alfred said softly, "why don't we get their things into the car while they say goodbye." The two of them moved away to start hauling suitcases. The others were quiet, hugging and whispering, almost every single one of them with tears in their eyes. "We go," John signed shakily. "Not for long, Johnnybird," Dick promised. "I'm trying to get you back, and Timmy's trying to get hold of you, Jackie, and Peter, I swear we're gonna get you out soon, too." His eyes stung as he thought of Jason, who might be dead or in serious trouble for all they knew, who was so far out of reach and had no idea that his little counterpart was about to fall into the mercy of strangers. "Come," Peter insisted. "ALL family, run together!" "It's not like that," Duke explained gently. "We all live here, we like being Bruce's kids. You guys...it's just that you hate it here so much, this is your chance to escape and be happier, you know?" Peter, however, could read the apprehension in his body language. "You watch us go away and die!!" ".....Okay, foster care sucks," Duke burst out, "but some places are okay, so...." He couldn't bring himself to say that it had been worse for him because he'd been so desperate to find his parents that he'd had no interest in settling in. There was a good chance Peter would be just as desperate to find his bird brothers, and with fewer social skills and life experience than Duke had had as a foster child, he might fare even worse. "Oh God.... But, hey, B-- We're gonna be watching you guys all the time, we'll come rescue you if it's bad, okay?" Peter clung to him, and he squeezed tightly. "Ccassiie," Jack suddenly quavered, "Ii...I ss'ttay. I...ss'tay hhere...." "Nno," John hissed, and twittered, "Master will kill you!" "YES!" Jack sobbed, "Master kill me here with my flockmates! Out there no flockmates, no Daddy, no [big chirp-chirp], nobody, they go away and leave me all alone, it's too quiet, I don't want it, I want to stay and die with my flockmates, I don't want to be alone, I don't want to be alone...!" Cassandra, wrapping her arms around him and understanding the gist of his loneliness and terror, was weeping along with him. "Oh, God," Dick wailed in a thin voice, "I can't...." The minute night fell, he was going to fly out as Nightwing and take his babies back, he couldn't stand to see them in such pain. "We are being irrational," Damian spoke up, his voice not quite steady. "We have no reason to believe they'll be worse off in temporary care than they are here, and I'm sure Richard and Timothy will be able to retrieve them by legal means quite soon. They do have the ability to defend themselves from untrained commoners, they'll be quite all right for the brief time it takes for Father's lawyers to sort out their wardship status." "Wow, Damian's actually being comforting," Duke laughed, wiping his eyes. Lydia soon came back, though it took nearly ten minutes to disentangle the birds from their family. Alfred was the last one to hold his grandchildren before they were led toward the car. John dug his feet in, and his brothers shrank back behind him. "Nno." Lydia had been warned ahead of time of the children's aversion to safety restraints. "Don't worry, honey, it doesn't hurt. You'll get a reward if you keep your seatbelt on, and I have some movies and games for you, you'll be so busy that you won't even notice how much time the drive takes!" Getting the children into the car was awful. The entire family coaxed and persuaded and pleaded for quite a long time, and even when they did manage to get the kids buckled, at least one of them would unbuckle himself before Lydia could get into the driver's seat. Eventually, they got the timing right to where Jack was distracted playing with a replacement seatbelt Lydia had obtained for this express purpose, Peter was distracted playing with a tablet, and John wasn't screaming or wildly struggling. Dick was pretty sure the boy was dissociating, but the social worker was rushing to start the car and either didn't hear or didn't want to hear his concern. Dick thrust his hands into his hair, feeling like his heart was physically breaking as he watched his baby brothers disappear. Lydia exhaled deeply in relief once she passed through the gates of Wayne Manor. She was frustrated from the seatbelt ordeal and irritated with the Wayne family for being so clingy and resistant when they had asked to put the kids into foster care. At least it was over now, and she could finally concentrate on the next part of her job without interference from fussy rich people. "crow!!" "crow! crow!" "Calm down, kiddos, you're okay," she called. "I ddoht wwa'nnt--" "CROW!" "--I doht lli'kke it!" "I know, Jack, but you have to keep your seatbelt on until the car stops." The crowing and protesting went on until they were a mile or so away. Then something heavy flew past Lydia, very narrowly missing her head, and struck the windshield hard enough to crack it. "PETER!!" she screamed, nearly veering off the road. Luckily, they were still in a residential area and there were no other cars around, but her heart was pounding. She pulled to a more controlled stop and inspected the tablet in dismay (the screen, which had already been a bit cracked, was now in even worse shape, though it still seemed to work all right), and then the damaged windshield. Fury surged through her, and she wrenched her upper body into the back seat, firmly taking hold of Peter's face. "NO," she boomed in a deep voice. "WE DO NOT--" He attacked her with his fingernails and tried to bite her. After a struggle, she managed to get him pinned down and started a countdown. "You need to cool down. Twenty, nineteen, eight--" The sound of a car door opening distracted her, and she was horrified to find that the youngest child had gotten his seatbelt off, figured out that the driver's door wasn't child-locked like the back doors were, and was now fleeing into some rich person's private property. "JACK, COME BACK HERE!!" She chased him down and was sweating by the time she'd dragged the struggling child back to the car, upon which point she was utterly horrified to find that Peter had vanished because, in her haste, she'd forgotten to shut and lock all the doors. "Oh, no...!" This time, when she buckled Jack in, she put a buckle guard over the latch that prevented him from undoing it himself. Ignoring his frightened shrieks, she secured all the car doors and went hunting for Peter. It took twenty minutes just to locate him, and required help from someone's gardener to trap the boy. Lydia wanted to scream with frustration as she dragged the wildly struggling, shrieking boy back to her vehicle, where she found John free of his seatbelt and in the process of shredding Jack's in an attempt to free his brother as well. "ABSOLUTELY NOT." She got them all buckled and locked in with the guard devices. Then she got back into the driver's seat, turned on the radio, cranked it up high enough to mostly drown the children's screams, and determinedly drove on, not looking into the back seat. The journey to the closest foster home, Jack's, took a while. Lydia finally turned down the music (which was when she heard the creepy-as-all-getout laughter from the back seat that had been going on for who knew how long) and glanced at the kids when she was a couple of blocks away. She closed her eyes in exasperation, stopped the car, got out, went around to the back, and opened the door. All three children stared at her. The oldest boy looked like true Jokerspawn, fixing her with an evil smile, and she shuddered. The youngest boy had one whole thumb and part of the other in his mouth, drool coating his hand and starting to drip down his arm. Peter had apparently made determined attempts to wrestle himself out of the seatbelt. He was now kneeling on the floor of the car, bent backward in an awkward and uncomfortable position, the horizontal strap wedged under his armpits, his shirt hiked up to bare his stomach and most of his chest. He stared at Lydia for a minute, then, with hands forced high above his head, did his best to sign, "Stuck." "That's what happens when you don't keep your seatbelt on," she snapped. She freed him, struggled with him for a while to get him sitting up and buckled in again, and finally managed to snap the buckle guard into place. Then she looked over at Jack, who had started to cry. "And you, get your hands out of your mouth, you're too old to be sucking your thumb," she said, pulling his arms down. "Don't cry, you're almost home." She screamed when John suddenly lashed out at her head, and panicked to find herself being attacked by the mini Joker. She frantically hit him until the hand clawing at her finally dropped away, and the one latched onto her hair loosened enough for her to pull free. She jerked away and slammed the door shut, then spent several minutes pacing and crying a little, trying to calm her racing heart. Finally she cleared her throat, fixed her hair, clothes, and makeup the best she could, then got back into the driver's seat and set out to get rid of the first of these little hellspawn. 'I'm asking for a re-assignment the second I get back to the office. I can't do this.' She parked a few houses down, just in case, then cautiously went to get Jack out of the car. Of course he would immediately start screaming and trying to latch onto his crazy Joker brother. Lydia was terrified and furious as she wrestled them apart, trying to protect her face, and finally managed to get Jack out of the car. She slammed the door shut on the horrible Joker smile. "Jack, stop that," she ordered. She finally managed to pin both hands in hers. "You will see your...brother later, you'll see him later, Jack, during visits. Right now, we're going to meet Mr. and Mrs. Reynard, they're going to take care of you." He didn't answer, just twisted his face and started chirping and cawing incessantly like a deranged bird, getting louder and more shrill every second. "Jack, stop! Just calm down, will you?! Come on, let's go." It was practically a fight, getting him to walk; then he collapsed in that deadweight move she hated so much, and she ended up carrying him the rest of the way to the house. He started to struggle near the end, but she was able to put him down then, relieved. The little brat was heavy. He started up the chirping and cawing again, then suddenly started screaming, "JJJOHNNNYY! PPPE'TTAH! I WA'T JJOHNNY PPE'TAH!" "John and Peter are going to different homes," she snapped, trying to hang on to his arm so he wouldn't go bolting off the porch. "Everything will be fine." The door opened before she could ring the bell, probably because all the screaming had alerted the Reynards. The man at the door smiled at Lydia and then looked down at the child straining hard to break Lydia's grip. "Uh-oh. Someone doesn't look very happy." "I'm going to get his stuff," Lydia said quickly. "Can you take him?" She went back and forth with the boy's luggage, ignoring the irritating bird noises both of the kids still in the car kept warbling loudly at her, and thumped the last bag down in the hall in great relief. Louis Reynard was holding Jack in a restrictive hug, trying to coax him inside, as he wife crouched beside them. "I've got some sandwiches and lemonade in the house," she tried. "Are you hungry?" "[chirp-chirp]! [caw]! [chirp-chirp]! [caw]!" Jack cried, sobbing. "Are his brothers in the car?" Ginny asked when she saw what he was reaching toward, wondering why they hadn't come out to say goodbye. Lydia started talking at the same time. "Well, I'll leave you to get to know each other!" she said quickly, desperate to escape and get rid of the last two. "Call the office if you have any questions!" She hurried off. "Let's wave bye-bye," Louis said, a little at a loss. It wasn't until the car had driven out of sight that Jack finally went still. He stared, dazed and trembling, and this time didn't fight when he was picked up and carried inside. Louis sat him down at the table, and Ginny showed him the sandwich ingredients she'd laid out. "What kind of bread do you like best, honey?" He continued to stare blankly into the distance. "Do you like peanut butter and jelly, or ham? ...Or maybe tuna fish?" He didn't move until they set a sandwich into his hand. Then he blinked, dropped the sandwich onto the plate, pushed it away, and sucked in a shaky breath. "Pllease g-gif, givvve me Jjohnny an' Ppe'tah." "Oh...sweetie, I'm so sorry, but they're in different homes. Don't worry, Jack, we'll be able to call them later, maybe even tonight, and you can talk to them, okay?" He started breathing hard. "Pllease...giff me Jjohnny an' Ppetah...!" They did not give his flockmates back to him, so he threw himself on the floor and screamed. But they didn't speak to him or even look at him, just walked around him like he wasn't even there, so he stopped. Then they smiled big and told him he was a good boy. 'If I'm bad, they ignore me. If I'm sweet, they pet me.' Just like Master, except Master hurt them if they were bad. But when they were good, sometimes Master was good to them back. So [warble] smiled and tilted his head the way he did to make This Master and [big chirp-chirp] do things, and he said, "Mmommy, I sowwy." She gasped, and she cried with her body, "Surprised so happy (suspicious) happy~" Yes, that was how to do it. He hugged her, and she liked that even more. "That's right, Jack, it's much better to ask for things politely. We'll try to call your brothers tonight, but you're a big boy and can wait patiently until then, right?" "I good boy." "Ohhh, precious." She kissed him gently. "Would you like to go see your room now?" "Y'ss." He let her hold his hand and show her the place where his new nest was. He hated it, his nest was too small and had no no no flockmates in it, so he didn't like that she was taking all his things and putting them in the room like it was his. Bear was his, Bear belonged in his nest, not this strange empty nest he didn't know. His toys belonged in his room, not this strange small room with one 'plastic' table-thing by the nest instead of two wood ones on either side, and one window instead of lots all down the wall, and a small white 'dresser' for clothes-feathers instead of a big brown one.... "Do you like your new room, Jack?" He knew he should say yes, but he couldn't answer until he hugged Bear tight. "Yyess, I llike." "Relieved." "Good. Would you like to play a game, or read a story?" "I slllee'py." "Oh - you want to take a nap? All right, Jack." She fussed over him and tucket the blanket-feathers around him and made sure he had Bear, and she kissed him again and petted his hair. 'She loves me,' he thought, a little surprised. He did not want her to love him, because this was not his flock or his home and he had to leave. She blocked out the sun and turned off the inside light. There was a small light near the floor, but it was a car shape instead of a star shape. 'Wrong.' The woman finally went away. [warble] lay quietly for a while, listening. He heard the woman and the man moving around outside, not close. He listened until he thought they probably wouldn't come close soon, then he climbed off the nest. "Sleep later," he promised Bear with his hands. ('A-S-L' was very good, you could talk to your flockmates and not make any noise for Master or any other big people to hear!) Then he got his 'book' light where the woman put it, and he turned it on, and he started looking at the room with his light. He would see what all the useful things in the room were, and he would see the places he couldn't get out and the places he could get out and the places that didn't want to let him out but he could make them do it anyway. He would have to wait, and it hurt, knowing he would be alone for so long. But if he was careful and smiled to the man and the woman and worked when they weren't looking, he would be able to escape, because they weren't Master and he could escape from anyone who wasn't Master. He would find his flockmates, and no one would ever take them away from each other again. To be continued.... A/N: The part about Peter getting stuck in his seatbelt was originally going to be in the seatbelt training arc, but then I realized it wasn't going to work there, so I'm glad I got to at least use it in a deleted scene instead. And for those who are wondering, Peter's favorite stuffed animal is Dog (and of course John's is Elephant).

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A Meeting of Kings(rough draft)A DreamWorks' How to Train Your Dragon / Batman crossover fanfic by Raberba girl Summary: The great Bewilderbeast seeks help from the closest thing Gotham City has to an alpha. A/N: This one-shot can technically stand alone, but it was conceived as a prequel to an alternate ending of The Birds Who Smile, and it might make more sense if you're familiar with my "How to Train Your Dragon" fanfiction (Gentle and its sequels and Firelight are the ones that feature my version of the human Bewilderbeast; also, Gotham's Knight [in my "Just One More (and other stories)" collection] involves my headcanon for the relationship between Bruce & Gotham). Takes place before Duke starts Bat training. o.o.o Sometimes, he felt like he was good with humans. They could be a little strange, to be sure, but in the end, they were people, too, capable of great love and extraordinary feats, capable even of taking part in the life of the flock as if they were no different than their scaled, winged flockmates. Other times, however, Alpha felt like he would never, ever understand humans, that they were hopelessly alien and the world would be a better place without them. Or maybe just Valka and Hiccup were people, dragon souls born into the wrong bodies, as alien from ordinary humans as humans were from dragons. "There aren't even any hatchlings here." "It's very compartmentalized," Valka explained. Then, when she noticed that the concept failed to translate adequately, "Like when an insect nest is divided into chambers for different purposes, such as food storage or caring for larvae. This is the 'chamber' where resources are initially collected. There's a different 'chamber' to sort out those resources, and another where the children actually are to receive the final fruits." They were outside, on a balcony in the cool night air, because Alpha needed a break. As much of one as he could get, anyway - it was impossible to truly relax in this territory, this 'city' called Gotham, because it seemed...almost alive. Alpha was certain that the true alpha of Gotham was not the 'mayor,' because he'd been introduced to the human called Hady and had felt no trace of connection that he would have sensed with even a human brother-alpha. No...it was almost as if the territory itself was its own alpha. There were invisible lines of power here of a kind that Alpha had never felt before, almost but not quite malevolent. Or perhaps tightly controlled darkness, like it submitted and obeyed only when its alpha's teeth were in its neck. 'Yet if the territory is its own alpha....' No, that wasn't quite right. The nest had a powerful heart greatly prone to darkness, but there was someone, not quite an alpha but a Someone, who kept their teeth in Gotham's neck. That Someone would be the closest thing to an alpha that this hell-territory had, and Alpha felt apprehension at the thought of meeting the Someone would could keep such great darkness at bay. They would have to have a darkness of their own to do so without destroying it. "We shouldn't have come," Alpha murmured. "Are we going to try the next one on the list?" Valka asked at once. The Wayne Foundation, in and of itself, had looked the most promising, but the fact that it was based in the crime capital of the world had put her off. She had, of course, agreed to help Alpha investigate rather than eliminating it immediately, but she'd never been happy about the idea. Alpha considered. "We will finish enduring this 'charity gala,'" he decided. "I wish to speak to Bruce Wayne even if his Foundation cannot help us." "About the cubs," Cloudjumper said knowingly. The little suffering humans Valka had seen during her investigation - mistreated little ones must be cared for even if they were in a different flock on unfriendly terms. "Yes." They went back indoors, and Alpha drew in a breath to steady himself when he found himself immersed again. So many, many ugly and alien bonds here. Tight human 'parent/child' bonds, but nothing like the love between Valka and Hiccup - most of them were poisoned by resentment and greed and deep-buried pain and other things that Alpha couldn't even articulate. Among the rest, there was something like troopmate bonds, perhaps 'ally' was a better description, except that they also bore a strong resemblance to hunting and stalking. So many of them, all of them tangled up together, all these humans clinging to each other and tearing at each other and cleaving to one another to better damage others and then turning around to cleave to different ones in order to damage the first ones.... And over it all, greatly adding to Alpha's disorientation, sparkle and laughter and shared food and gently bared teeth, signs of human affection and pleasure. 'Deception.' It was so thick here, sometimes Alpha felt like he couldn't breathe deeply. "Are you all right?" Valka murmured. He was Alpha. It wasn't right to feel himself at such a loss. "I will be better when we find Bruce Wayne." 'Someone is approaching. I can feel it.' Closer and closer, he could almost sense Gotham taking pride in the passage of its favored one, almost sense the territory's glee at how all these poisoned bonds roiled and re-arranged themselves around Someone. Gotham was proud of its flock's deception and discord. The only reason Alpha didn't have to fight the urge to rise up into his true form and blast out an icy challenge was that Someone was so calm, not rebuking the darkness but not encouraging it, either. "Oh, look, his highness finally deigns to grace us with his presence," Valka remarked in disgust. Alpha was distracted by the great presence growing ever nearer. It was uncomfortably akin to meeting a brother-alpha. "What?" "Bruce Wayne just walked in, two hours late. Look at him, he's got three women in tow, what does he need with three?!" Alpha looked down to the great entrance doors below, his eyes immediately moving to Someone. Someone was disconcertingly small, a human in a black and white suit just like the coverings of all the other males here, doing the same happy!-deception everyone else was. 'How can this insignificant creature be Someone?!' Then their eyes met. Someone's - Bruce Wayne's - narrowed slightly. "Threat." Alpha was startled. "No, I'm not--!" he called silently, but Bruce Wayne moved on as if he hadn't even heard, pretending to be dismissive, doing the happy!-deception with everyone who came flocking up to greet him. They were a mix of submissives paying tribute and predators circling for an opening, but he glided through them all in a very impressive, almost Hiccup-like display of non-submissive avoidance. He acknowledged without engaging, ignored the threats as if they were meaningless to him, did not allow himself to be provoked. None of his hungry flockmates seemed to pick up on the disgust he held for them, but it was so clear to Alpha, and almost a breath of fresh air - it was almost a righteous disgust, not a poisoned one. "Valka. How am I expected to approach?" "Wander, get some food. Work your way toward him like you're both grazing." "That is very indirect." "I know. I hate it, too; the humans here are not my kind of humans." Even so, she knew her own species better than he did, so Alpha took her advice. He wandered and grazed, and spoke and gently bared his teeth when he was spoken to and 'smiled' at. Bruce was grazing toward him, too. His eyes and voice, even his body (a human who wasn't Valka knew how to consciously speak with his body?!) were casual and careless, but that part of him that only Bewilderbeasts could sense was gathering, focused, angry. It was difficult for Alpha to resist reacting to what essentially amounted to a threat display. 'Act human. You can't confront him here, like this. He might not even realize he's doing it. He will probably stop doing it when he stops feeling threatened.' And then suddenly Bruce was right there, saying "Curious happy stupid!" with half of himself and "DON'T THREATEN ME I DON'T LIKE YOU WHO ARE YOU I'LL BITE YOU; GUARDING MY TERRITORY" with the other. "Now here's a new face! Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises." He smiled and extended his forepaw-- his hand. Valka nudged him, and Alpha remembered that he was supposed to grasp the paw with his own and shake it in a very particular way, so he did so. "Hello. I am Alfred Wilder." "Oh, Brucie!" one of the females giggled, "Haven't you heard? This is that foreign king who's come to visit Gotham!" "A king, eh? That is impressive!" Bruce's eyes were sizing up Alpha and still projecting the threat display. Perhaps he was open to negotiation. "I will not harm your flock," Alpha projected silently. "I--" "Dismay fear ANGER!" and then something changed. Alpha wasn't sure what it was, since he could still sense most of the things he had before, but it felt like a part of Bruce Wayne had suddenly been tightly shut away. At least he'd moved to defend rather than attack, so perhaps Alpha would have another chance at negotiation when they were alone and he could stop pretending so much. "Thank you," he said, since that was the stock human phrase that seemed most appropriate after the last spoken communication. Most humans only ever seemed to notice communication via sound, it was as if they did not consciously process the rest. Then other humans called Bruce's attention away, but that was all right. Alpha knew who and how to hunt now. o.o.o.o.o Having to be Brucie with a mind-reading meta four feet away was incredibly unpleasant, but Bruce endured it. He chatted and flirted and pretended he'd forgotten about the man he'd just wandered away from, except to carefully probe for information whenever he saw a chance. "So that Wilder fellow, what's he king of, anyway?" "Oh, some little Scandinavian country no one's ever heard of, something like that." "His bodyguards are pretty mismatched." The meta was accompanied by a man and a woman. The latter didn't look anything out of the ordinary, except that her expression was too honest to belong at one of these parties, but the former had the same odd eyes, not-quite-right body language, and undefinable quality to his skin and hair that his master had. Bruce would be willing to bet that those two were only disguised as human. "Oh, I know! They look rather silly together, don't they?" About thirty minutes later, Bruce found himself stumbling outside with a woman, not even any of the three he'd come in with. As she gasped and clutched at him and sucked at his mouth like she was a young animal getting old enough to be weaned, he went through the motions of making out with her, wishing he was still closer to the party. He'd lost track of that meta and wanted to find him again, just to keep an eye on him. Genevieve Porter had ambushed him instead and he hadn't been able to get rid of her without breaking his Brucie cover, so now here he was, wasting time. "I don't understand." Genevieve gasped and Bruce looked back to find that the strange trio were out here on the balcony, too. The woman looked uncomfortable and had her face turned away, but the two men were staring with open curiosity. It was the male bodyguard who had spoken, and now continued complaining. "You say they like to mate even when they don't want babies, but this one doesn't even want to mate at all--" "Do you mind?!" Genevieve exclaimed. The leader seemed to come to a decision, and stood up. "I challenge you for your mating target," he said to Genevieve, seeming to get bigger and more threatening as he approached. Bruce did not think highly of Genevieve, but he still instinctively moved to shield her. "Brucie?" she said, frightened as she clutched at him. "Go back inside, Vivi, I need to set the record straight." The woman disappeared inside without a word, and Bruce geared up to fend off unwanted advances. However, the minute Genevieve was gone, the meta stopped, deflated like a bird lowering its feathers, and glanced at his female companion. "How was that?" "Terrible!" she burst out in what seemed to be amused exasperation. "Humans don't court like that, and you can't threaten directly, I told you." "Ah." "What is this all about?" Bruce asked warily. The meta turned back to him. "I am glad to meet you alone, brother. I wish to speak with you." "Regarding?" There was a pause, then Bruce felt it again, another mental attack, something like "soothing no-harm" but it was HUGE and it was an INVASION, he was already shielded but he immediately reinforced his repelling techniques-- The meta gasped and rocked back a little, and his male companion narrowed those unsettling golden eyes and growled. "It's all right-- It's just self-defense, stand down...." "Who are you?" Bruce growled, abandoning Brucie. "This is not a good city for metas." The meta looked questioningly at the woman, who said, "'Metahumans.' It's what they call people with abilities normal humans aren't physically capable of." "We are not--" "I know, but they might count non-human entities, too." She turned to Bruce. "We're not from this country. Do dragons count as 'metahuman'?" Bruce stared. 'Dragons.' It seemed to fit. "Shapeshifters?" "Yes." "Then, yes, they fall under the legal definition." "I see." There was a pause. "Bruce Wayne," the meta - the dragon - finally said, "I have come to this place to seek you out and ask for your assistance." "Regarding...?" Bruce said again, even more warily this time. "My flock, and your cubs." Bruce stiffened. "Not your own children," the dragon - what was his name? Alfred Wilder - clarified. "Ones from a different troop." Now Bruce was angry again. "How are you reading my mind?" He knew he was still blocking. Wilder looked like he wasn't sure what Bruce was asking, but his human(?) companion spoke up again. "He doesn't read minds. All dragons pick up on emotions, and Alpha is an alpha, so he also senses bonds between people, emotional ones. If you have children, he'll know." "Five of them," Wilder murmured. "You love them all so dearly, but some of them are troubled.... If you were a dragon, I'd tell you to lick and nuzzle them better, but I don't know how it works for humans. 'Hug' them and tell them how much you love them, I think." "It's not our business to interfere with human families, anyway," the woman said gently. "What's your name?" Bruce asked straight out. "And yours." He nodded at the other male. "I am Valka. He is my companion; among humans, he is called Claude." "And among dragons?" "One Who Leaps Over Clouds," the second dragon supplied. "Cloudjumper," the woman simplified with a fond smile. Their leader must have seen Bruce's eyes move to him demandingly. "I am Alpha." The way he said the word seemed to vibrate Bruce's very bones, and he just barely managed not to shudder. "You said you came to talk to me about children?" "Yes. Your 'Wayne Foundation' - it is a thing you made to take care of children who are orphaned, yes?" "Any families in need, not just orphans. Children who have been abused or neglected, families in poverty or suffering other trauma - it's the charitable division of my company, focused on social work." "Yes...well. My family, my flock, has suffered trauma, so we now seek a new home. We do not know the ways of humans well enough, therefore I now reach out." "I'm not good with human people," Valka said. "My son, Hiccup, does better, but he is young, and it wasn't right to rest such a great responsibility on him alone. We are from a foreign land, only my son and I have legal documentation, and our flock is falling apart without a territory. We need help resettling in this country." "I'll think about it," Bruce said warily, already itching to go home and research. "You need time to think about helping us," Cloudjumper said, his eyes full of disapproval. "Do you also need time to think about helping cubs of your own kind?" If he hadn't had Bruce's attention before, he would certainly have it now. "What are you talking about?" Valka told him of the Wayne Foundation facilities they had visited. Most had seemed clean and well-kept, the occupants often sad and damaged, but not in active distress. There were a few exceptions, tangible clues that Valka had noticed and emotional disturbances that the dragons had picked up on, but the police had done nothing when their suspicions were reported, citing a lack of evidence. "You are alpha here, I think," Wilder said. "This territory is yours, these nests and aeries with your scent-- Your name, I mean; this name 'Wayne' marked on them. What will you do with the monsters in your territory, preying on your flock's little ones?" "I'll look into it," Bruce said shortly, and marched away, too preoccupied to realize that he hadn't bothered to tell anyone goodbye. o.o.o.o.o They waited. They had to huddle in their 'hotel room' as if hibernating during winter. Valka and Cloudjumper had tried to explore when they first arrived in this city, but it was so awful that they no longer had any wish to interact with the people of this place. Alpha, feeling ill from the tangible and intangible poisons saturating the city, spent most of his time in bed. He reached out to his distant flock, who were restless and anxious at his absence and their precarious situation, but often pleasantly distracted by whatever Hiccup was up to. He reached out, also, to Someone - to Bruce - out of curiosity. First it was hunting, or perhaps foraging, with a such a great intensity that Alpha could sense Bruce easily despite the distance. Then a grim uneasiness, and then nightfall, and there. Like a hunting bird rising out of its nest. Bruce was after his prey. "Alpha?" Alpha realized he had risen from his bed. "Bruce...." "Are you going out to join him?" "Yes." Alpha shifted to the shape of an owl and glided out the window. Ah. Ah. Bruce looked very, very different now. Alpha knew that the empty smile and the 'dress suit' had been wrong. This was Someone in his true form, as if Bruce was a shapeshifter as well; this black creature with pointed ears and full armor and a 'cape' like wings. Bat Man, as he was called on 'TV.' (At last, a foreign human with a sensible name!) It was true and right that Someone, Bruce, was the shadow who guarded Gotham in the darkness. He could fly, too. Alpha watched admiringly as he followed. Hiccup had been the only human Alpha had seen personally who learned how to fly without a dragon's wings, but now here Batman had as well. Where Hiccup glided, Batman soared. Hiccup was a creature of the day, laughing in the sun; Batman was of the night, invisible in the shadows. His 'wings' were really a human vine that he cast from one building to another, but he handled it with such ease and grace that he might as well have been born flying. 'He makes this terrible place look beautiful.' Perhaps because Batman loved it so, because it was beautiful in his eyes, he made others see it as beautiful, too. They made their way across the city, and Alpha recognized that they were heading toward the 'orphanage' with the threatened cubs. When they drew close, he had to wince and land at a distance - something terrible was happening in that building, an evil bond was being tightened and strengthened, and if Bat Man did not put a stop to it soon, Alpha himself would. No one should be made to endure such suffering. Batman perched on a ledge across the way and stared hard. Then horror and fury spiked so strongly in him that Alpha gasped to sense it. Batman dove at a window, crashing through it. There were screams and shouts from within; Alpha had to take to the skies again and circle, desperately searching for purer bonds to focus on, distracting himself until it was over. Batman's fight with the darkness was too rough and chaotic and human. When Alpha finally alit on a rooftop again, things had settled. The darkness had been contained; of course there was pain and devastation left in its wake, but the source of the evil had been captured by Gotham's guardians and was being cornered in a 'police car.' He would not be allowed to hurt cubs anymore. Alpha shifted to human form and approached his brother-alpha, who was perched on the edge of the roof like a brooding bird of prey. "Bat Man." Batman's body spoke nothing but efficient calm, but Alpha could tell how alarmed and displeased he was to be approached by someone he hadn't sensed. He made a grunting sound that was difficult to interpret. "Thank you. We went to the guardians, the police, but nothing was done until now. Why are you the only one in this flock who cares about its children, Bruce Wayne?" Another spike of displeasure that only Alpha would have been able to sense. "Don't call me that when my face is hidden. I'm Batman." "Ah." Alpha could understand that. His flock all had their real names for home, and human names for when they were pretending to be human. Batman was the same. "I am not the only one who wishes to protect the children of Gotham. The problem is that those with ill intentions usually prey on the most vulnerable." Alpha closed his eyes, trying to keep his anger in check. Only the most depraved dragons would harm little ones of their own kind. He had to think hard of Valka and Hiccup to remind himself that humans were not monsters by default. "I'll help you, Wilder." Alpha opened his eyes. "But I want to see your dragons first." o.o.o.o.o Bruce Wayne brought his own children with him. Not all of them - alpha could sense other children still distant, other troopmates still in Gotham. There were a few of them, though: a young adult whose heart shone like the sun, a fledgling whose soul reminded Alpha of Hiccup's, a child with a heart that was like a flower rising up out of ashes. "Your children are beautiful," Alpha murmured to Bruce Wayne. They stood on the balcony of one of the dilapidated apartments in the tenement the dragons had taken over. In the courtyard below, Dick Grayson was playing with a group of hatchlings, Damian Wayne was unsuccessfully trying to drive off curious dragons in human form while admiring a couple who had chosen to reveal their scales, and Tim Drake was leaning over a contraption with Hiccup, the two of them making each other very excited while a bored Toothless sprawled beside them. "These are really awful living conditions," Bruce fussed, filming the cracked walls and moldy corners and leaking appliances with his phone. "All the apartments are like this?" "More or less. I have money, but only Valka and Hiccup have...'papers.'" He couldn't remember the correct word. "It makes things so difficult here." "I'll take care of it." And he did. This Bat Man might hold great darkness in his heart, but his love was even greater. Not even two weeks later, the flock was descending on their new home, a vast estate in Montana with room to hunt and play and fight and fly. "Bat Man," Alpha said earnestly, looking deeply into the other alpha's eyes, "you have my gratitude." Bruce looked uncomfortable, for some reason. "I'm a businessman. I make allies. I might ask you to return the favor someday." "You are my brother-alpha, my ally. All you need do is call." o.o.o A/N: While thinking of a crossover alternate ending for TBWS, I realized that the backstory was long enough to be a story in and of itself, so I figured I'd better write this prequel first. I'm working on Part 3 of the foster care route, but it's on my tablet.

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The Birds Who Smile , a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Alternate ending: Dad Richard - Part 1 (rough draft)
 A/N: I forgot to add that the mask scars and I guess also the kids' status as legally existing people are not an issue in these deleted scenes, either. No spellchecking again. o.o.o Dick, wearing a domino mask with his civvies, stormed out of the Zeta-Tube and across the Watchtower. He ignored Simon, who was currently on duty and frowning at him in confusion. Dick marched straight to the lab, hurled his Nightwing suit into the destruction chamber for inanimate objects, sealed it, jammed a pair of protective goggles over his mask, and hit the middle-level incineration button. Then he just stood there and watched the symbol of his vigilante life burn. He kept staring even after it was nothing but ash and the chamber beeped its completion signal. Simon finally came up beside him and asked, "What's all this about?" Dick drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I love kids. But I wasn't planning on having any for a long, long time, because it's pretty much impossible to be a good dad when you're illegally fighting crime at night. I'm young and I'm selfish and I didn't choose them or plan them and I don't even...." He closed his eyes, which were stinging. "But I realized...I really would do anything for them. Even this. And it hurts and I'm so mad and I'm so friggin' sad, too, and, just...everything sucks right now." Simon awkwardly patted his shoulder, then looked surprised when Dick leaned right against him. Simon cautiously hugged him. "It'll be okay," Dick sniffled. "Yeah." Simon patted him, slightly less awkwardly this time. "It'll be worth it." Dick smiled a little, then pulled away. "Thanks, Simon. I'm okay now." His squared his shoulders, drew in another breath, and made sure he was smiling when he went back through the Zeta-Tube. o.o.o.o.o "Alfred, even the van isn't big enough to hold all this!" "We shall see." "My apartment is already fully-equipped, you know. All we need is whatever of your own things you guys want to bring." "Master Dick, keeping house for six people, three of them children, is quite a different matter than it is for a young bachelor." "*sigh* You know best, Alfie...." While the butler worked on re-arranging the luggage, Dick went back into the house to check on Bruce. The man was lurking in the Batcave so as not to distress the birds, but Dick knew that not even being able to say goodbye was probably killing him. "Hey," he said softly as he approached the Batcomputer. "How are you holding up?" "I'm fine." Bruce wasn't wearing the Batsuit, but he was still clearly in Batman Mode, probably as a coping mechanism. "I'll send you videos and pictures and stuff." "Hnn." "You'd better not bug my apartment, or I won't." "...." "I'm gonna sweep for surveillance when we get there. If I find any cameras or anything afterward, I'll stop sending you pictures." Bruce kept typing and didn't bother to answer. "Bruce...it's okay to be sad, you know." "Goodbye, Dick," Bruce snapped in a prompting way, though he didn't resist when Dick stepped closer and hugged him. He did at least stop typing. Dick kept his arms around his stock-still, unresponsive father until it started to get awkward, then he stepped back. "It might not be forever. They'll get better as they get older, and you'll be able to see them again--" Bruce stormed away. Dick bowed his head for a moment, then retreated back upstairs. John was curled up in an armchair, gazing into the distance as usual, and Peter was playing with Cassandra, Damian, and Titus, but Jack was huddled on the floor by John's chair with his heavily bandaged thumb in his mouth. He hadn't torn through the protective material yet, but he would soon, judging by the drool-soaked, shredded white tendrils blooming outward. Dick crouched down to his level, tugged the digit out of Jack's mouth, and offered the chew fidget hanging from the boy's neck instead, which Jack readily started chomping on. "Hey, buddy. Is something wrong?" 
"...Bad."
 "What's bad?" Jack mumbled something around the chew fidget. "I'm sorry, baby bird, I can't understand you. Can I maybe take this out for juuuuust a minute...?" "Ssssome'ting bbad hha'ppen!" Jack practically shouted, then shoved the fidget back in his mouth. "What bad happened?!" Jack gave him an incredulous look. "You." "Me? ......I'm making something bad happen?" Dick finally figured out. Jack made an "All this" gesture and then pushed the fidget deeper into his mouth. "Are you worried because there's been a big commotion yesterday and this morning?" Jack gazed at him solemnly. "I told you this, Jackie," Dick said gently. "You and Peter and John are coming to live with me. We're going to leave this house, and you baby birds will live where I live, and Alfred and Cass are coming with us to help me take care of you. It's a lot smaller - I'm looking for a house to buy, but it'll still be a lot smaller than this one. Anyway, Bruce is staying here at the manor. He's staying here, baby bird, and we're leaving. I was hoping that would make you happy, that you won't be so scared if you don't have to live here anymore." 
"...Safe brothers."
 "Yes. You're safe here, too, but maybe you'll actually feel safe in Blüdhaven." He leaned to kiss the top of Jack's head. When everything was ready, they said their goodbyes to everyone but Bruce. Damian clung to Alfred for a long time. "...Cassandra is going; why can't you stay?" he asked plaintively. "Your place is here, Pennyworth, at Wayne Manor!" "Undoubtedly, young master, yet my higher calling is serving the Wayne family. I have left the estate before to care for my masters elsewhere, and now I do so again." "He came with us to the penthouse, Dami, remember?" Dick pointed out. "Yes," Damian grumbled. "But that was...different." "Because we were all together," Dick said sympathetically, hugging him. The boy did not return the hug, but Dick knew how much his younger brother still needed it. "I doubt it will be forever, kiddo. You'll have Alfred back someday, and in the meantime, I need you to take care of your dad for me, okay? He's going to need you now more than ever, you know how he gets when he loses kids." "Father is not a child in need looking after," Damian grumbled, but seemed to have calmed a bit. "However, I will be at his side for moral support." "Good." They switched, Dick turning to Duke and Damian gripping Cassandra's hand with dignity before she pulled him into a hug. "My man." "Dick," Duke acknowledged, reciprocating the friendly handclasp and man-hug. "Got your work cut out for you." "When have I ever not?" Dick laughed. "Oh well; I managed to coax Damian down from demon to cactus, I'd better be able to handle a trio of baby birds." "You ever need anything, just give me a call." "Oh, I'll be calling you whether I need anything or not," Dick laughed. "I'm not Bruce." Goodbyes to the birds had to be cut short because it seemed to disturb the children, who anxiously kept signing things about death and going away and bad meat. "Beloveds who stay, safe," Cassandra tried to soothe them. "We who go, safe." "Bad Laugh Man here!" Peter signed urgently. "Kill you!" "Fall down bones," Jack added tearfully. "Baby birds," Dick said sternly, "we are going to Blüdhaven, and then we are going to call Dami and Duke and Tim, and we're going to see that they're perfectly safe and everything is fine." The birds still clung to their brothers and had to be dragged away. Then they had to be coaxed into the seatbelts and given distractions, which took a long time, and then they were finally off. At first, even with the distractions, Alfred had to pull to the side of the road every fifteen to twenty minutes so Dick and Cassandra could let the birds out of the car for a break, after which came more coaxing to get the children buckled up again. Anticipating this, they had left as soon as possible after morning rush hour and allotted the entire day for the trip, hoping to arrive at Dick's place before evening rush hour. Still, Dick found it a struggle to keep his patience, and started relying on Cass's calming influence more and more. It was a huge relief when Peter dropped off to sleep, and Alfred had the idea to give Jack a phone with their route mapped on the screen in real time, which the boy seemed riveted by. It was hard to tell whether John was asleep or overwhelmed, since his eyes weren't completely closed, but in any case, Cass kept hold of his hand and Dick whispered encouragingly to him, and they were able to drive continuously once they were in Blüdhaven proper. Dick, with Jack clinging to his shirt and eventually joined by a newly awakened Peter, got John out of his seatbelt at once and helped him up to the apartment, where he put on a movie and held the boy and made sure Elephant and some snacks were nearby. He and Cass took turns staying with the children and vidchatting with the family back at the manor, while the other helped Alfred bring up the luggage. The birds huddled together on the couch in a little pile of trauma, though it wasn't long before the younger two started peering around the apartment very curiously. Peter was the first one who started to explore. "That's it!" Dick laughed when Peter made a confused bird noise after coming back out into the living room. "I've got crime-fighting stuff above and below, but the actual living part is only this." He planned to sleep in the living room so that Alfred could have one bedroom and Cass the other, with it being assumed that the birds would choose whom they would like to sleep with every night. "But I'm looking for a house that'll have four bedrooms and a nice yard, so we should be getting a bigger place soon." Alfred, already tired from the drive, was looking a little frazzled as he unpacked and put things away, so Dick quietly ordered pizza before the old butler could feel obligated to cook. When the deliveryman arrived, Alfred looked miffed and insisted on eating a sandwich rather than the junk food, but he didn't complain much, and the younger household members dug into their meal readily. Maybe not so readily in John's case, but at least he was eating, sloooowly picking up and sloooowly chewing the bite-sized bits of pizza that had been cut up for him. "Peter, you don't have to keep asking," Dick explained again. "Look, all your pizza is right there, you can have it whenever you want." The birds were fully experienced in communicating in this context now for it to do much more good in that respect, and they weren't desperate enough to gobble too much at once anymore, so there didn't seem to be any point in continuing the morsel-by-morsel practice. Yet, "Please give me pizza; ppIT'zza pllease!" Peter kept insisting. "Petey...." After they ate, Alfred went to lie down for a nap, and Cassandra offered to stay with John, who was starting to look around in wary confusion but didn't seem inclined to move. Dick took the younger birds outside for a walk. 
"Noisy!"
 "Yup. We're not at a secluded mansion in Bristol anymore; this is Blüdhaven." "Bbutt'aybah." Dick laughed and taught them how to pronounce it better, then figured he might as well take them to pick up some groceries. He knew that Alfred would find his apartment sorely lacking in food supplies, and the butler hadn't been able to fit much food in the car. "Okay, guys, let's see if we can guess what Grandpa will consider real food." Peter was ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTED to walk into a building filled with shelves and shelves and shelves of food. He kept grabbing as many random packages as he could to drop into the cart, until Dick fished a scrap of paper out of his pocket, started to scribble a list, remembered that the birds weren't great at reading yet, and drew pictures instead. "Petey, help me find the stuff on the list. What's that first one?" "Fffissh." "Ooohh, fish! Look up at the ceiling, do you see maybe what part of the store they sell fish in?" Peter's eyes widened when he spotted a gigantic artificial fish hanging from the ceiling halfway across the store. "FFIIIIIIISSHH!" he shrieked in delight. "Ssshh, Peter!" Dick gasped, laughing. Peter seemed to enjoy hunting down specific food items, and it successfully distracted him from dumping the whole store into the shopping cart. Jack shuffled along behind Dick, clinging to his shirt and staring wide-eyed at all the people they passed. After a while, he started shyly calling out greetings. "Hhhello! Hhello!" Some ignored him, others smiled and nodded before moving on; a few looked delighted and charmed. "Hello, sweetie!" one woman cooed back. "Ohh, your son is precious!" Dick didn't bother to correct her, since he was functionally the children's parent now. "He's a little cutie and he knows it." 'Wish Timmy did, though....' Eventually, however, Jack stopped greeting people and got quiet, and Dick was so busy trying to keep Peter safely occupied that he didn't notice the smallest boy emotionally fading. They were in the checkout line, Dick praising Peter for helping him load the conveyor belt with their purchases, when Jack suddenly burst into tears. "Jackie?!" 
"Too many people...!"
 "Oh no, Jackie-- Just hang on for a little longer, okay? We're almost done, we just have to pay for all this and then we can go home." Jack stared at him silently, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "...Do you want to help me count the money?" "........Wuh...ttwo...ffee...." "It's--" Dick glanced at the number that had just popped up, "--$58.75. Can you help me count five thousand, eight hundred seventy-five cents?" Jack slowly wiped at his cheeks and looked warily interested. "C'mere, baby Timmy, help me count," Dick crooned, hoisting the child up onto his hip and handing him a stack of bills. "Can you find the fifty?" It took a while and most of the people behind them in line got restless and irritated, but Jack eventually did successfully count out the full amount in change. "No kko'tta." "Yeah, I'm out of quarters, so give her another 1, and she'll give us change, okay, baby bird?" Jack looked so fascinated by the process of making change that he had apparently forgotten his tears, to Dick's relief. They made their way out of the store, Peter proudly carrying one bag and Dick carrying all the rest. "You kids are awesome. You're so smart and helpful and I love you." "Ggo hhome," Jack quavered, clinging to Dick's shirttail and looking apprehensive rather than eager. "Yeah. To my apartment," Dick suddenly clarified, wondering if Jack was upset because he didn't know what Dick meant by 'home.' "We're going back to my apartment where Alfred and Cass and Johnny are." Jack relaxed. "Ggam'pa, Ccassie, [chirp-chirp]." Dick stopped dead when he realized he was only accompanied by one child. "Where's--?!" He whirled and found that Peter had dropped behind because he'd been preoccupied prying apart the packaging and digging peanut butter straight out of the can. "PETER, don't do th--!" "CROW!" Peter shrieked, hurling the rest of the grocery bag at Dick. He shoved the open can of peanut butter right into his mouth and simultaneously backed to crouch in a niche by a shop door to protect his prize like it was Gollum's Precious. "Uuuuuggghhhh, I am not ready to be a dad," Dick wailed. He eventually did get both children and most of the groceries home successfully, at which point he collapsed on the couch and silently handed over parenting duties to the other adults. As soon as they'd come in, John had leaped up and run to his little brothers, twittering wildly; Jack responded in a soothing tone, Peter ignored him in favor of licking at a spot of peanut butter that had smeared on his shirt collar. Alfred descended swiftly, a clean shirt already in hand. "None of that, Master Peter. Arms up, let's get you changed." To be continued.... A/N: At some point, I will have to put this "Dad Richard" arc on pause until I finish the main story, because the kids' recovery is too similar and will probably have spoilers. There will be differences in the details, and obviously the kids will be raised by Dick rather than by Bruce in Gotham, and John will take YEARS to reach the breakthroughs that in the main story will only take...not sure yet how long, but definitely less than two months. Anyway, so I think there will be enough differences to make writing this arc worthwhile, but some parts will have to wait until I've written and posted their corresponding scenes in the main story. I'm at my new house~ Not 100% settled in yet, but I have completed the move and am incredibly relieved to have such a vastly improved living situation. Here's hoping that improved quality of life will also mean that I'll eventually get the chance to organize my writing properly so that I'm not only doing stress-relief stuff by the seat of my pants.

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The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate ending: Dad Richard - Part 2 (rough draft)
 It was a weird evening. Cass disappeared into Nightwing's version of the Batcave, presumably for some training and then patrol; Dick felt odd and very restless, knowing that he couldn't go out with her. Maybe someday, but not after he'd just uprooted the children and there was no one but Alfred to look after them all night. Peter was cooperatively tired and fell asleep in Cass's bed soon after brushing his teeth, but Jack was clingy, and John was just as wide-awake and restless as Dick. "Okay, forget bedtime, then. Who wants to play Twister?" Jack eventually did fall asleep, but John refused to even lie down. When he wasn't watching over his brothers, he was crouched by the window, staring intently out into the night. "Are you looking for something specific, Johnny, or just keeping watch in general?" John ignored him. Dick sat down beside the boy. "I wish we could stargaze, but the light pollution here is almost as bad as Gotham's. The moon is pretty, though, huh?" 
"Batman."
 "Batman does not come to Blüdhaven, Johnny," Dick said gently. "He stays in Gotham. Blüdhaven belongs to Nightwing - that's me. You're safe here, baby bird." 
"Birds fly away. Bad Laugh Man catch, hurt, again again again."
 "No. The Man Who Laughs is dead. The man who hurt you is dead. No one is going to hurt you, because me and Cass and Alfred are all here to keep you safe." 
"Wait. Smile. Laugh. Hurt."
 "Please, Johnny." 
"Wait. Hello, Batman."
 "No. Batman's not coming here, and if he does, I won't let him near you. I promise." 
"Dead you, blood, bad meat, I hate it. Hello, Batman."
 Dick had to get up and walk away before he lost his temper. "Your turn, Alfred," he said brusquely as he passed, and dropped onto the couch in front of the TV. John didn't fall asleep until nearly dawn, so when it was time for breakfast, he was left snuggled with Cass while Dick helped the other children up onto bar stools. "I see I shall have to do some shopping," Alfred said as he set plates in front of his charges. "Please give me eggs, e'ckg, pllease," Peter asked, despite the fact that there was already a heap of scrambled eggs waiting for him. Dick wearily reached over with a fork to poke the eggs around a bit, which Peter apparently took as permission to grab a handful to bring to his mouth. "Young masters, we will be using utensils from today on, starting with your next meal," Alfred warned them. "No yyoo'toul! Tote, pllease!" Jack shouted, sloppy and defiant, and was ignored. He pouted and grabbed the toast off his plate to chew on. Alfred returned to his original topic, glancing in mostly-concealed distaste at the card table in the dining area that Dick had presumably been using as a kitchen table, except that it was currently piled with papers, a basket of clean but very haphazardly-folded laundry, dirty dishes and old beverage bottles, and other clutter (hence why they were currently eating at the bar counter). "We will need furniture as well as food." "I just got food!" Dick protested. "I even went to the fancy organic sections and stuff. And we're probably not gonna be here long enough to make furniture shopping worthwhile, anyway." "While I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Master Dick, I need more ingredients to work with. You're probably right about the furniture though," he conceded. "Jjuice, pllease." "Peter, it's right there." After breakfast, Jack wanted to count money, so while Peter watched a cartoon and Alfred cleaned, Dick laid out a bunch of bills and coins on the floor, and taught Jack the concept of making change. Jack was much more captivated by the activity than he was, and continued counting and shuffling cash even after Dick came to sprawl on the couch, playfully pretending to squash Peter. The boy shrieked and scrambled to crouch on top of him instead. "Mmmm...no work, no patrol, I'm so bored; what do stay-at-home parents do with their kids all day...?" "You could get them enrolled in school," Alfred suggested. John came stumbling out of the bedroom, twittering drunkenly. When he saw that nothing was amiss with his brothers, he started going around to pound and rattle the windows and doors, looking more alert and tense with every step. "Johnny, what are you doing?" Dick asked, struggling out from under Peter and going after his young counterpart. John kept hissing to himself in bird language and didn't answer. "Johnny, that's the closet, there are no monsters in the closet." John slammed it shut and moved on to the next window, which he rattled. "It's latched, Johnny, double-paned--" And the next. "John, nothing is going to happen!!" It wasn't until twenty minutes after John had assured himself that the apartment was secure that Dick was able to persuade him to eat breakfast, and even then, he only nibbled a few bites before going stubborn and distant again. "My God...maybe you do need school, I bet hanging out with a bunch of not-traumatized kids would be good for you...." Leaving the birds under Alfred's watchful eye, knowing that Cass could be awakened for emergency backup if necessary, Dick went alone to the public school he had in mind for his babies, one that was in a better part of town than where he currently lived (as Nightwing and even when he'd been Batman, he had liked to be closer to the action). There, he discovered that his kids couldn't be enrolled because the school was in a different district than the one they currently resided in. "I'm going to buy a house soon, though, and it'll probably be in this area of town. So they will be in this school district soon." "I'm sorry - the residential address has to match, but we would be happy to have the kids transferred as soon as your new residence is finalized." Dick thought of the kids settling into a new school, making friends, getting used to their teachers and schoolwork and the layout of the campus, then suddenly getting uprooted a few weeks later and having to start all over again. It wasn't like the circus, there wasn't a wider community or a tour circuit or much of the familiar that they could pick up and take with them. It would be more like doing a few shows with Haly's and then...having to stay behind in Gotham with strangers and learn a whole new kind of performance work.... "It's okay. Never mind." 'We're rich boys living off Daddy's credit card, after all; might as well go to a school where we'll fit in with all the other rich snobs.' Hah. As if his little birds could fit in anywhere. Just like Dick had 'fit in' at Gotham Academy before he'd begged to be transferred to public school, just like Jason and Damian and any other Bat-scarred boy could ever fit in with normal, happy, oblivious people-- 'Stop it. This is not about you and your angsty post-Zucco childhood; this is about three kids who need school and will probably just bite anyone who tries to bully them.' Which was another can of worms right there. 'What if no one wants them? Snobby rich people aren't going to want their perfect purebred children to associate with banged-up, Joker-laughing kids who bite and eat with their hands and can barely talk and think they're birds, oh God, what am I going to do, is there some kind of special needs school who'd take them, or...?' It finally occurred to him, there on the sidewalk where he was angstily wandering away from the school, to call the person who was financing his parenthood, who would be raising the children himself if he'd had his way. "Bruce...I don't know what school to put them in. At least until I find a house. I was gonna enroll them, but they won't take the kids because we don't live in the right part of town yet. Maybe I should just go find a house now. Yeah, I think that's what I'm gonna do. Thanks, Bruce; bye." Immediately after he hung up, Bruce called back. Dick looked at his phone and sighed, but it really hadn't been fair of him to call and then not let Bruce get a word in edgewise, so he answered. "What schools have you looked at already?" Bruce asked immediately, perhaps fearing that he'd be talked over again if he wasted time with greetings. "I dunno, the better public school won't take them yet because we're live in the wrong district, there's no way I'm sending them to Peabody Elementary even if we were living in my apartment permanently, the rich kid schools won't want them, I don't know if a special needs school would be right for them, I don't even know what kinds of special schools there are here, I know I pass Rainfell a few times on the other side of town but I don't even know what kind of kids they serve--" 
"Dick. Stop."
 Dick stopped. "Get a tutor for the boys while you look for a house. I'll hire one for you. ...If you want," he added belatedly. "Once you've bought the house, you can enroll them in the first school you had your eye on, and either keep or dismiss the tutor as you see fit." "Oh." Bruce made it sound so simple. "Okay. Thanks. And yeah, if you could...do the legwork...I just want final approval, but go ahead and interview tutors, if you're up for it." As if his control freak of a foster father wouldn't be up for it. 
"Yes, of course. I'll call you again in a day or two."
 Dick was feeling better by the time he got home again. He found the younger birds helping Alfred clean, and John still with that worrisome distant look on his face as he tossed scraps of paper in the air and watched them flutter down, over and over again. He went into his submissively unresponsive Doll Mode when Dick carefully put his arms around him and just held him for a long time. "I love you, Johnny," Dick finally murmured. "...." "You don't have to love me back. I just want you to feel safe and happy. That's all I want. That's all I want, baby Robin." The child in his arms flinched, and Dick could have kicked himself. He'd meant it in the way his mother had used to mean it, but more recently, the name Robin had meant something very different to this boy who'd been forced into a tattered travesty of a costume and made to do unspeakable things while he bore the R on his chest. Then John relaxed again and tipped his head back to meet Dick's eyes, his gaze at last clearly focused on a human being for the first time in ages. "Mmmy lllli' Wwwo'bbin," he whispered. Such a broken little voice, raspy and struggling to form human sound, this voice that had once upon time so easily called out jokes and laughed with abandon.... Dick squeezed his eyes shut and nuzzled into John's hair. "Yeah, Johnny. That's what Mom used to call us. That was our name first. That's our name, he's not allowed to steal it from us. I love you, Robin." John birdsang quietly for a long time, and Dick didn't let him go until the boy went silent. He gave one last squeeze and then slowly pulled back and got to his feet, caressing John's hair as he did so. The boy rose, too, and trotted after him. The others had been watching, the children openly, Alfred surreptitiously as he continued working. Peter smiled when Dick approached. "Ggoo'd bboy." "Good protect family," Jack added in sign. "I love all my baby birds. Are you guys being good and helping Alfred?" "I sseep!" Peter announced, waving the little broom in his hand. Jack started to brandish his dustpan, then looked dismayed when half the collected waste fell out as a result. "Oh no!" Dick laughed. "Here, let's sweep it up again." When Cass woke up, the whole family went to look at houses. While Alfred hounded the realtor about all sorts of details Dick would have never even thought of, Dick preferred just watching his siblings cavort through each house and yard, getting a feel for how suited or unsuited their family was for each potential home. The one with too many random service nooks in half the rooms was out, he saw Peter curiously worming his way into one and had visions of one of the children getting stuck or hurt while playing. The one with an entirely open ground floor and floor-to-ceiling windows prompted Cass and the birds to dance in the sunlight. It looked beautiful, but then Dick thought of enemies crashing far too easily through those windows, and regretfully nixed that house as well. Many houses, Alfred complained about; some, Cass looked around and wrinkled her nose in distaste. After the first few houses, the novelty wore off and, although no one had given more than a basic explanation to the birds, even they started to get more businesslike. John would march around the perimeter of each room, making grim commentary in bird language; Peter would explore and then tug at Dick's shirt to declare "Ggoo'd hhousse" or "Bbad hhoussse" (Dick eventually figured out that the common factor in Peter's 'good' houses were lots of potential places to hide); Jack would move purposefully through rooms, holding up his hands as if visually estimating, making calculation-sounding bird noises. When the group started flagging, they said goodbye to the realtor, went to a restaurant to recharge, and pored over all the photographs Dick had taken. "Okay," he said, using one of the coloring sheets the waitress had given the children to make a chart. He then handed the crayon to Jack. "So Alfred and Jack really liked the one on Queequeg, right?" He grabbed another crayon to scribble the street name at the head of the first column. "Jack, right here where I'm pointing, write an 'A' for Alfred and a 'JA' for Jack." "A ffo' Ahhffed Ggam'pa," Jack muttered, carefully forming the letters. "Aaaannnd, Cass, you really liked the place on Albatross, right...?" By the time they'd finished eating, they had narrowed it down to three houses that combinations of the majority seemed to favor, though no one house had clicked with the family as a whole. "We'll keep these three in mind if we don't find anything better, but we can look at more houses tomorrow, okay?" Afterward, they stopped by the apartment to drop off Alfred, who wanted to get more work done, then took the children to the playground. Dick almost wanted to cry with relief when John eventually got sucked into his younger siblings' games and ran about jumping and chasing and crowing with them. That was how any version of him ought to be, not a silent, dead-eyed zombie so overcome with hopelessness that he wasn't even fully present when surrounded by people who loved him. 'Please stay this way, Johnnybird. Please, please don't fall into the dark again.' To be continued.... A/N: Man. I didn't realize until working on TBWS how much I apparently like compound words. I keep looking them up to see if they're actually supposed to be a compound word or two separate words, and eight times out of ten, it turns out that the compound version is less common than not. X''D Still loving life at my house, though I haven't made much progress on anything this week because of work. Hopefully I'll get more done on the weekend.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 3 (rough draft)
 The second house belonged to the Jefferson family, with two biological sons and two foster ones already in residence. When Lydia stopped the car and came around to the back, she was exasperated to find the remaining Joker children embracing each other tightly, watching her like they intended to fight to the death if she made a move to pull them apart. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that it was normal for children to fear being separated from siblings. "John, Peter, listen to me. We're not doing this to be mean. We wanted to put you in the same home together, but we couldn't because there weren't any that could take more than one of you. But you will still get to talk to each other on the phone and maybe see each other sometimes, all right? And as soon as a home opens up that will take all three of you, we will reunite you there. This is not goodbye forever, only for a little while." "...." She huffed out a breath. "Okay, Peter, come on." By the time she got Peter out of the car, she and both boys were bleeding. The children were screaming bloody murder, too, and she didn't dare let Peter up from the restraining hold she was pinning him to the ground with, because she was positive that he would go right back to trying to rip out her throat. 
'And Wayne put up with these monsters for almost two MONTHS?! The man is a saint. No, whatever nannies he hired were the saints....'
 After a couple of minutes, two boys came romping out of the house to investigate the screaming. "Whoooooaaa, is that Joker Kid?!" "Did he bite you?!" "Alan, please get your dad," Lydia said through gritted teeth. "He's at work." Somehow, Lydia and Mrs. Jefferson managed to get Peter into the house and then, when he still kept trying to escape, his room (no one had felt comfortable letting him share with any of the other children until he proved that he wasn't going to go Joker on his foster siblings, so he had it to himself). They all stared at the bedroom door, which was shaking and creaking with the violence of Peter's apparent attempts to hurl himself straight through it. No one objected when Dennis and Alan pushed the hall table in front of the bedroom door to reinforce it. "Let me get his bags," Lydia said faintly. When she got back to the car, a terrible smell wafted out when she opened the trunk. "John!" she gagged. He was staring at her, sitting in his own waste. From the malicious look on his face, he had done it on purpose. "Oh my God, what is wrong with you...?!" She hauled Peter's luggage to the house, drove to a more secluded area, then stormed around to get the package of baby wipes and diapers she kept in her trunk, along with the first pair of shorts she found in the remaining luggage. The diapers were too small for John, but she didn't have any better options. She opened John's door, dreading the ordeal of cleaning him up. "John...I'm going to unbuckle you, then you need to take your clothes off, clean yourself with the wipes, and I'll help you put this on in case you have another accident." He wouldn't let her near him, even to undo the buckle. His eyes were fixed on her, his fingers crooked like claws, and any time she made the slightest attempt to reach for the buckle, he'd lash out at her face, so she finally dove to seize his arms. She managed to get the boy horizontal and maneuvered him into a makeshift restraint, pressing him against the seat with her leg so that his arms were pinned and her own hands were free to deal with the mess he'd made. Once he was immobilized, he stopped fighting, and lay there laughing and laughing the entire time she wrestled his pants and underwear off, cleaned him up, fixed a diaper on him, and pulled on the fresh pair of shorts. When she was done, she threw everything into the trunk and, with great difficulty, got the seatbelt fastened again before she very cautiously released the boy and leaped back. He continued to lie there, now silent. She got back in the driver's seat and started the car, tears pouring down her cheeks. The Wayne Foundation group home that had offered to take John, even though they were already at capacity, was the farthest away. John was scarily quiet during the entire journey, but when Lydia parked the car and reached to unbuckle him, he struck lightning-quick to sink his teeth into her throat. She screamed in utter panic, and the people who'd been waiting to greet their new charge frantically rushed to separate them. John ended up being injected with a sedative, and when his limp body was pried off of the social worker, she had to be driven to the hospital. o.o.o.o.o Back in the Batcave, Bruce stared in horror at the surveillance footage he was seeing from all three of the homes he'd secretly wired up beforehand. 'This is a disaster.' o.o.o.o.o Back at the Jeffersons', the violent sounds continued for hours, and no one dared go into the bedroom. At long last, it went quiet. Andrea Jefferson and the boys listened hard. "Mom...what if he's using the broken stuff to...?" With her heart in her mouth, Andrea leaped up and hurried to the door. "Peter?" she called, her throat tight with panic. "Peter, honey, I'm coming in." She moved the table aside and very cautiously opened the door. She was astounded at the level of destruction - the room was completely trashed, even the walls and windows. The only items undamaged were Peter's suitcases, though they'd been opened and rifled through. Peter himself was wedged into the corner between the two windows, hunched under a large pile of blankets and clutching a stuffed dog. He stared at Andrea intently, unmoving. When she saw that he wasn't hurting himself, she closed the door again and burst into tears. Even with the money her family would receive to help support Peter, they weren't going to be able to afford fixing and replacing everything. 'No wonder nobody wanted them! Oh God, what am I going to do...?' She didn't dare go into the room or interact with the wild little boy until her husband came home, except to nervously push a McDonald's bag inside at one point. When Mr. Jefferson did finally open the door, he swore at the mess. Then it slowly dawned on him and his wife that the child was nowhere to be seen. "Peter?!" One of the windows had been broken fully, and there was blood on it. When they realized that Peter had run away, they frantically called the police, and were told that a child matching Peter's description had actually already been picked up, thanks to an anonymous tip from 'someone' who'd seen the child walking unaccompanied, and was on his way to the station. Mr. Jefferson drove down, where he found Peter in a conference room, clutching his stuffed dog in one arm and eating snacks with the other, his backpack still on his back. "I ggo ffin' mmy bboddas," he chatted to the officer who was sitting with him, his mouth and free hand full of crackers. "Peter!" At the sight of an emotionally intent adult male bearing down on him, the boy leaped up and started screaming furiously, backing into a corner and seizing the closest thing at hand to use as a weapon. "NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOO!" They couldn't get the boy into the car without force until Mr. Jefferson thought of using the boy's family as a bribe. "Don't you want to talk to your brothers? Get in the car, Peter, and you'll get to talk to John and Jack when we get home." At the group home, when John had awakened, he had dragged himself off the borrowed bed they'd laid him on and marched through every room, wrenching open every door and grabbing every child who resembled either of his brothers' body types to stare at for a moment before shoving them aside. He completely ignored the staff following him around, trying to get his attention. When he tried to go outside, they held him back, and when he couldn't break out of their hold, he burst into ceaseless Joker laughter. One of the other children in the home, a boy named Chase, had lost his parents during one of Joker's attacks. At the sound of the unnatural laughter, Chase screamed and covered his ears, begging for it to stop. Staff members tried to calm down John, but he only got more violent. Another staff member tried to help Chase away, and the boy had a panic attack in the hallway before reaching his room. "Someone's on the phone for John!" one of the staff shouted from the kitchen, the receiver of the landline in her hand. "They're trying to set up a three-way call with his brothers!" John abruptly stopped laughing when he heard Peter's shouting voice. He wrenched the receiver into his hand and shoved it against the side of his face. "WWANN'TT [chirp-chirp] [warble]!" Peter screamed. Jack exclaimed in great excitement, and then all three of them were twittering urgently to each other. Bruce, eavesdropping, wished he could understand what they were saying, but they were unable to sign on the audio-only connection, and there were only a few English words scattered amongst the birdsong. "They tear us away," [caw] raged. "Bad big people tear our flock!!" "Coming, I'm coming to find you," [warble] said soothingly. 
"It hurts, it hurts, they take hurt my precious little ones...."
 "I'm coming, [chirp-chirp]," [warble] promised again. "Wait for me, flockmates. I'll find This Master's flock, they will tell me where you are so I find you. TOGETHER." "[warble] find me in house?" [caw] asked anxiously. "Yes," [warble] assured him. 
"[warble] find me at street?"
 
"Yes."
 
"[warble] find me if they tie me bury me?"
 
"Yes."
 "Master will catch us," [chirp-chirp] said with a shiver. 
"It's okay. Master catch us, Master don't catch us, we together."
 
"Yes."
 "NO Bat!" [caw] shouted. "[warble] save us, we fly away!!" "Together," [warble] said again, not caring where they were or what they did otherwise. All he had to do was find his flockmates; they could make the decisions after that, he would be happy. When the call disconnected, all three boys were calmer. Jack smiled angelically at his foster parents, who smiled back and asked him if he'd had a nice chat with his brothers. John also smiled sweetly at his guardians, drifting away to talk to Zitka during the long lecture they gave him about proper behavior and house rules. Peter marched to the refrigerator and pulled hard on the handle until it opened, then helped himself to everything that looked good. Andrea Jefferson was staying away from him, trying not to cry and also trying to keep her children away from him. One was watching TV, another was playing a handheld game, and a third reluctantly started on his homework, but the fourth went over to Peter and started poking him. "Hey, Joker Boy. Demon Kid. You're a real asshole." Peter ignored him except to swat his hand away, much more interested in digging out scoops of rainbow sherbet with his fingers. "You're disgusting and selfish. Dessert's supposed to be for all of us, but you're such a stupid pig, you think it's all for you." Meanwhile, Mr. Jefferson was on the phone. "What do you mean she's in the hospital?! She just dumped him with us hours ago! .... Well, then who's their social worker now?! .... I don't care, I'm just telling you, you'd better send SOMEONE first thing tomorrow, because this is not going to work, we can't have this kid here. And who's going to pay for the property damage? This kid wrecked my house, it's going to cost thousands of dollars to fix, I better see some reimbursement because-- .... Huh. That so. Well, that's fine, then; but we're not keeping this kid past tonight, I don't care how big the check from Wayne is. We are not keeping this kid. We are not keeping him, I need to make sure you understand this. I need to speak with your supervisor." [caw] wasn't listening to the ugly words words words the stupid boy was babbling at him, but the poking was getting annoying, and he did not like when the boy pushed his head and shoved him. "DON'T TOUCH ME I HATE YOU GET AWAY FROM ME," [caw] said with just his body. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH, MOOOOOOOOMMMMM!" "OH MY GOD, SAM! SAM, GET IT OFF, GET HIM OFF, OH MY GOD HE'S BLEEDING, CALL THE POLICE...!" The child Peter had bitten was taken to the hospital, and the police, confused about why this cute, calm bird boy was being accused of such violence, nevertheless took Peter and his luggage to the agency in charge of his placement. Peter fell asleep in the lobby, contently leaning against his biggest suitcase with Dog in his arms, unaware of the frantic phone calls being made (or the frantic surveillance and research being done in the cave out in Bristol - Batman would not be making an appearance in Gotham tonight). To be continued.... A/N: Although I haven't made any progress on sorting out the current arc in the main story, I've been making a lot of progress in real life. (Like, things I procrastinated on for months or years at my parents' house are getting accomplished in days here at my own house.) Eventually, I will get the urgent TBWS notes organized; in the meantime, I hope these deleted scenes and stuff are okay to tide you guys over. (Sorry I'm not posting them very tidily. If you know me from previous fandoms, you know how wacky my posting order can get.)

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 4 (rough draft)
 [warble] waited a loooong time for the man and woman to go to bed. He was so bored, but then he got a book and his book light, and that was better. Except when the woman peeked her head in, she told him he was not allowed to look at books because it was time to sleep. So he pretended to go to sleep, and this time when she left him alone, he put pillows under his blankets to look like a little boy was still sleeping there, but him the real little boy took his books and light into the closet instead. He gasped and realized it had been a long time. So he carefully opened the closet-- No man or woman. But he could still hear them outside the bedroom, so this time when he went into the closet, he looked at his 'phone.' The numbers said 10:23. The number on this side of the dots went up and up faster; the number on that side of the dots went slower. He had to wait until that number said 11 instead of 10. Next time he crept to the bedroom door, the house was dark and silent. The man and the woman were gone or asleep. Now [warble] could finally look for his brothers. When he had been very small at the Big House, there were lots of not-mamas to take care of him and the house when Mama and Daddy were gone. Not all at the same time, but every time a not-mama left, a new one would come. (Except when Cathy left the day after his sixth birthday, a new one never came, so he and Big House had to take care of themselves. That was okay; he knew how to get food now, and when there was no not-mama, Mama and Daddy only left during the day instead of for weeks and weeks.) One of the not-mamas, Gertie, couldn't drive. He remembered riding with her on her bike to the bus stop, and riding the bus into the city, and helping her go to all the places, and coming back again. Sometimes at night, she would go to see her friend Ronnie that he wasn't allowed to tell Mama and Daddy about, and she would take [warble] (except his name was Tim then) to the city, and when they met Ronnie they would ride in taxis. They would eat at places that were louder and more fun than Mama and Daddy's eating places, and sometimes they would even go to a movie. (Boring movies or scary ones, so Tim usually played or read instead of watched. Sometimes he would watch Gertie and Ronnie kiss, but that got boring, too.) Then they would go to a hotel, and Tim was supposed to stay in the bathroom until Gertie and Ronnie stopped yelling. The first time, he peeked out the door and watched them wrestle instead, and at first it was scary because he thought they were trying to kill each other, and he wondered if they would hurt him if he tried to use the phone by the bed to call 9-1-1. But then they finished and they were so happy, and he realized they liked it. After the first time, he just stayed in the bathroom and read or played, though the yelling was annoying when they got too loud. Tim was good and never told, but Mama and Daddy found out about Ronnie and the hotels, anyway. They got mad at Gertie and sent her away. The next not-mama didn't take Tim anywhere, but that was okay, because he knew how to do it now. Sometimes when Olivia forgot to make dinner for him, he went to get dinner for himself at his favorite eating place that Ronnie took him to. Then they told him they could bring food to his house, and they showed him how to ask, so he didn't have to take the bus or a taxi to eat anymore, but there were still other things he liked to do in the city. The birds at home were small and shy and flew away when he came close, but the city birds were fat and walked right up to him, some even ate out of his hand. He went to see the First Gotham Cathedral when it was fixed after the fire, because he knew the stained glass windows would be much more beautiful for real than on TV, and he was right. He went to look at the big Christmas tree at Christmas. [warble] still remembered the numbers for the Big House. He had written them down while he was in the closet - it was hard, a little hard to do them one at a time instead of all together in his head, and a lot hard to make the right shapes on the paper. He had to keep throwing the paper away and trying again, but finally he did it. He took off his sleeping clothes and put on some outside clothes, and put his phone in his pocket. He got his backpack and put some things in it, like his book light and his favorite book and his phone 'charger' and Bear. Then he went to the kitchen, and he put some bananas and 'granola bars' in his backpack. He got a knife and a fork out of a drawer. He couldn't put those in his pocket because they hurt, but the fork stayed at his waist when he stuck it through one of the loop things on his pants. He could grab it quick and poke hard if someone tried to hurt him. The knife, he couldn't grab quick, but it was good to have in his backpack. If he had to sleep, he could take the knife out again and hold it close while he slept. He didn't have any green money, but he found the woman's 'purse' and searched through it until he found her money card, and he put that in his pocket, too. The man and the woman had told him not to be scared because there was a 'security system' to keep them all safe at night. He knew what that was. This Master had one, and the Big House had one. He still knew the security system numbers for that one even though he hadn't been to the Big House in a long, long time. Maybe Master had burned it up. But maybe Master hadn't burned it up; when This Master's house got pretty and clean, big people who went away kept coming back. People kept not being dead, so maybe the house that went away was still not dead, too. He hoped Big House was still alive, because it would be a very long way to walk from Big House to Master's house if his ride-on car and his bike had been burned up, too. This was a different house, and it had different security system numbers. [warble] had watched the man touch them. Now he just had to get high enough to reach. He already knew where the step stool was. [warble] carried the stool to the front door. He climbed on it and reached, and pressed the right numbers and then the button that was to go out instead of the button that was to come in and make the house stop cawing. The red light turned green. Now [warble] could push the locks on the door, and the house would be happy and not scream at him. He went outside, and it was dark and a little scary. He walked past a house, and another house, and another, and now there were rushing cars. He walked some more until he saw a yellow car, a taxi, sitting still. He knocked on the door. After a while, the door opened, and a man stared at him. "Incredulous, wary." "Hhou'sse, please," [warble] said, and gave him the Big House paper. Raffi Davtyan stared at the shakily-written address, then at the creepy kid staring at him with creepy expectant politeness. "......You got money?" The boy fished a credit card out of his pocket. Raffi thought of what might happen if this kid turned out to be some sort of 100-year-old meta with reality-bending powers or something who might or might not be a supervillain. No point in angering him if he wasn't causing trouble; better to be safe than sorry. "Get in." o.o.o.o.o Bruce, frantically trying to keep track of the efforts to secure an emergency placement for Peter, looking up everyone whose phone number was dialed, got distracted by an alarm. "What--?!" He leaned over to look, as did Alfred and Duke from where they were doing tech support on different screens. One of the trackers hidden in Jack's shoes was reporting that he was moving away from his foster home. There was no camera in the Reynards' bedroom (Bruce wasn't that invasive), so he didn't know for sure whether they were in there or not. The rest of the house was empty, and both cars were still on the property. Bruce checked their security system, and found that it had been disarmed to permit an exit from the front door and had not been re-armed afterward. He commed the Bats on patrol, doublechecking to make sure that Red Robin's and Nightwing's lines were open. "The smallest bird is on the loose, possibly alone." There was some swearing in response. "Where's he headed?" Red Robin demanded immediately. Bruce sent a map showing Jack's movements in real time. "He's in a vehicle," Nightwing observed, the only explanation for the tracker's speed. "Was he kidnapped, or did he run away?" "I'm reviewing the video footage. No one approached the house; he walked out of it alone." "Is he headed home?" Robin/Batman wondered. "To the cave, I mean?" There was a pause as everyone stared at the tracker's route. "We have to intercept regardless," Bruce said. There was no telling whether the driver was a decent person or one who would harm a child. 
Version 1
 "I'm suiting up. I'll probably get there first, but I can't make direct contact with him, so I need someone to meet me there as soon as possible." "On my way," Nightwing promised. A few minutes later, the Batmobile swept toward the city, and cut off the taxi soon after it exited the highway. The minute the driver saw Batman bearing down on him, he leaped out of his car and backed away with his hands raised. "I didn't do anything! The kid's fine! He asked me!" Ignoring him, Batman stopped at what he hoped was a safe distance to look into the car, but he was too late - Jack had already thrust open the far passenger door and was fleeing. Batman rushed to herd him into an enclosed area. He didn't try to touch or come near the child, but Jack was now trapped between two buildings with a fence at his back. He squeezed himself into a corner and tightly gripped what looked like a fork in both hands, looking terrified. There was a standoff for several minutes after the cab driver made his escape. Batman didn't move, standing guard and not looking directly at the boy. Jack remained motionless, still clutching his little weapon like a broadsword. After what felt like ages, Nightwing arrived. "Jackie!" He slowed when he got close, not wanting to frighten Jack if the boy didn't recognize him, but Jack took one look and threw himself into Nightwing's arms, bursting into tears. "It's okay, Jackie," Nightwing whispered, holding his little bird tight with one arm and gently scrubbing his other hand through the child's hair to soothe him. "You're safe. I've got you. Batman is not going to hurt you. It's all right." He looked up and found Batman awkwardly hovering nearby, holding the boy's backpack. When Jack, shivering and tearful, looked over his shoulder, Batman slowly offered the stuffed bear. Jack stared at the toy for a long time. Finally he wiggled out of Nightwing's arms, crept close, snatched Bear out of Batman's hand, and stared at it for a while. Suddenly he snarled and lunged at his backpack; he dug a steak knife out of it and stabbed it viciously into the bear's belly, ripping downward. Batman and Nightwing watched in horror as the child tore the toy apart, fingers clawing through the stuffing spilling out of its stomach and head. The attack slowed. Jack's fingers probed through gutted toy again, more carefully this time - then he sobbed. He was tender now as he pushed the stuffing back inside as best he could, and cradled the toy gently. "I sowwy, Bbea'...! I sowwy...!" 'He wasn't attacking it,' Nightwing realized numbly. It would never occur to a child to think there had been something dangerous hidden inside their favorite toy unless they had previous experience with such a thing. "Ddick'ie," Jack wept, "I hhurr't Bbea'! Ppoorr Bea', oww, oww, he ssad...!" "Jack," Nightwing whispered, kneeling to rest one protective hand on Bear and the other on Jack's shoulder. "It's okay. Grandpa can fix him. Let's take you home, okay? Let's go home." Jack sniffled and wiped tears from his eyes. Then he looked at Batman, and his face hardened. He carefully pushed Bear to be cradled in Nightwing's arm, then went to the man who had the information he needed. 
Version 2
 "Someone needs to tail the vehicle in case it doesn't come to the cave as expected." "I'm on my way," Red Robin said. "I'll meet you." Batman readied himself and set out, eventually getting a visual on the taxi just outside the city. A scan revealed that Jack and the driver were the only ones in the car, so Batman relaxed a little. He wouldn't have to intervene and potentially frighten the child, since it was unlikely the driver would do any harm while the vehicle was in motion. Batman could tail the car and wait for backup to arrive. The taxi made its way closer and closer to Crest Hill, but then made an unexpected turn rather than continuing on the road toward Wayne Manor. "They have a different destination," Batman reported sharply. He felt like an idiot when Red Robin said, "I see it. I think they're headed for Drake Manor." "Oh no," Nightwing said in dismay. "His parents won't be there." "He knows that," Red Robin said in annoyance. "He needs to get something from there, maybe his own transportation. Either he didn't know how to give directions straight to Wayne Manor, or he's trying to protect the driver." The three vigilantes were already waiting at Drake Manor, undetected by any of the occupants (Tim owned the estate and was renting it out), by the time the taxi pulled up. They watched the driver hand a credit card back to Jack, talk to him for a minute, then drive away. Jack trotted purposefully a little past the gate, pushed his backpack through and then easily squeezed himself after it between the bars of the fence, and headed straight for the garage. He tried a side door and found it locked. Undeterred, he hunted down some rocks and raised the first one to throw at a window. He yelped when Red Robin emerged out of the shadows. "What are you up to, Jack?" The boy twittered at him. "You know I don't understand Bird." 
"Please give me house number."
 "...I don't understand that, either." Jack sighed and turned to the approaching Nightwing. "Please give me house number." "Which house, Jackie?" 
"Brothers."
 "John and Peter? House number-- You want to know where John and Peter are?" Red Robin worked out. "You want the addresses?" "A'ddessa. House number." "This is 'address,'" Nightwing taught him, then realized, "You're going after them yourself. You crossed half the city all by yourself to look for your bird brothers...oh, Jackie...!" Jack stiffened. The young men followed his gaze and angrily hissed at the lurking Batman to get back out of sight, but then Jack started moving purposefully toward the Dark Knight. 
Continued from either version:
 He looked frightened, but he didn't pause. His family watched nervously. None of them were expecting Jack to drop to his knees and cling ingratiatingly to his master's leg. "No, Jack," Batman snapped, stooping to pry the boy away. He pulled down his cowl. "It's me. It's Bruce. I don't want you to do that." Jack cooed at him and hugged him and nuzzled him. "Stop. If you want something, just ask. Don't pretend." Jack still kept the charming smile and the fetching head tilt as he signed, "Please give me address." "...We will bring your brothers to you. You can stay somewhere safe while you wait, and we will bring John and Peter home." "crow" "Use human wo--" "crow crow crow" the child insisted, starting to pull off his shirt. Batman grabbed his arms to stop him. "crow" "Don't do that!" "...Please," Jack said, pronouncing carefully, "Bbat'mman g'iffve me [chirp-- Jjohnny ann'd Ppe'tterr." "We will take you home, you will be safe while you wait, and we will bring your brothers home to you." Jack stood there in Batman's grip, breathing heavily for a minute. Then his face twisted with anger and he began to scream and fight. "GGIB ME [CHIRP-CHIRP] [CAW], GIB ME GIB ME GIB ME!!" Batman thrust the child at his older sons. "Take him to the cave." "[chirp-chirp]! [caw]! [chirp-chirp]! [caw]...!" To be continued....

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlDeleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 5 (rough draft) 
A/N: I'm starting to have trouble with the choreography, so I decided to just say "Screw it." This is a deleted sequence, so there's no point in forcing things to happen as smoothly or plausibly as they'd need to if it was a genuine part of the story.
 o.o.o Leaving the boy in Nightwing and Red Robin's care, Batman hurried to the cave ahead of them, checked in on Peter and found no progress on the boy's situation, then set up a background soundtrack to make it sound like he was at a club before calling the Reynards. "Mmn...hello...?" Ginny said sleepily. "Gabbyyyy! Where are you, hot stuff?" "Hello???" Ginny repeated in bewilderment. "Gabby! It's Bruce! Can you hear me? Let me step outside, the music's so loud~" He lowered the soundtrack. 
"I think you have a wrong number."
 "Wrong number?? This is Bruce Wayne, I'm trying to reach-- Who is this??" "This is the Reynard residence," she said impatiently. "Reyn-- OH! Oh, you're Jack's foster mom! Sorry, I think I hit the wrong name in my contacts list or something. Hey, so how is Jackie, anyway?" 
"Mr. Wayne, it's nearly midnight! My husband and I are in bed!"
 "Oh, wow, I'm so sorry! So Jackie's doing well, huh? Settling in okay?" 
"He's fine, Mr. Wayne."
 "I don't suppose I could talk to him, could I? I'll be real quick, I promise." 
"Mr. Wayne, it's MIDNIGHT. Jack is SLEEPING, like normal six-year-olds do at MIDNIGHT."
 'He is not sleeping, you stupid woman, get out of bed and go look--' Bruce worked to calm himself down. He couldn't let even a hint of his anger and frustration seep into his tone. "You could just peek to make sure, though, right? Maybe he can't sleep because he's in a new place all alone. Poor kid, I hope he's not lonely. He's got Bear the bear with him, right? His teddy?" 
"Uuuugghh, Mr. Wayne...."
 "It's very important, you know! Why, when I was a kid, I couldn't get to sleep unless I had my bear Zorro with--" Ginny hung up. Bruce sat there, hand pressed to the headset, trembling a little with suppressed outrage. Then, after a long moment, the camera in the hallway showed the door to the master bedroom open. Bruce relaxed for a moment, then clenched his teeth when Ginny shuffled right past Jack's room and went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk. She puttered around for a few minutes, and Bruce wanted to throttle something. At last she headed back toward the bedrooms, and he was literally on the edge of his seat, willing her to stop and check inside Jack's room. To his intense relief, she paused outside the door. Then she pushed it open and peered in. He relaxed a little when he saw her body go rigid with tension. She stood there for a moment, then snapped the light on. She began rushing through the house, calling frantically for Jack, then woke her husband. 
"Oh, thank you so much, Sherry, that's wonderful!"
 Bruce's attention was abruptly pulled away from the Reynards when he realized that the agency must have found someone who'd agreed to take Peter for at least one night. He nearly jumped at Tim's gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on the Reynards. Dick's got Jack." Bruce stared around the cave. Jack was in Dick's lap, one hand holding the chew fidget he was sucking on and his other hand clinging tightly to the Nightwing uniform. As Dick sang to him, he stared over his oldest brother's shoulder, tears trickling down his face, intently watching Alfred mend his bear. Duke was still on duty for Cassandra and Damian, so Bruce moved over to a different computer to resume tracking Peter. Sherry Henderson. Bruce looked up her records and got a bad feeling almost at once. Although none of the accusations had been proven or pursued, there were several claims of abuse or neglect involving the children in her care. 'I can't let Peter--' Short of kidnapping, though, which would just make things worse in the long run, there was nothing he could do to get the boy into a better home. 'It's just for one night.' Presumably. He still needed to get to that address. "What's the status on the Reynards?" he demanded. "They've reported him missing," Tim said. "I nudged some evidence, so the police will hopefully look up the taxi records and security cam footage from the convenience store near where Jack got picked up." Tim had it covered. "I'm going to deal with Peter's placement. How is John?" "Give me a minute." While he waited, Bruce looked over at Jack again. The little boy had fallen asleep in Dick's arms, with the repaired Bear nestled in his own. "...Good?" he signed hesitantly. Dick shifted a little so he could sign back, "My baby." "They are desperate now, so they might let us keep him." Unless the Reynards were insistent. "Take him to bed." 
"Other birds?"
 
"Tim is checking on John. I'm going to see Peter soon."
 Dick frowned disapprovingly. 
"I will not let him see me. I'll guard only."
 
"I hate this."
 
"...Should we have kept them?"
 
"Yes!"
 
"They were frightened. John is a suicide risk."
 
"They're MORE scared now! J is STILL a suicide risk! They're separated! We screwed up!"
 Jack, disturbed by Dick's emotional signing, stirred and whimpered. "Bed," Bruce demanded, and this time Dick stood up to carry the child upstairs without protest. "Trouble," Tim said. Bruce came to at the screen showing camera views from John's group home. Apparently the boy was throwing another fit; most of the night staff had converged on him, and the other children in the home were standing around in their sleepwear, watching. Chase, unnoticed by anyone but his roommate, was having another panic attack. "What happened?" "Hard to tell from just the hall cam, but I guess John wasn't sleeping. When one of the night staff checked his room, she went inside for a while. She came back out to get a drink for him and what I'm guessing might have been a sedative. She brought it to him, and then seven minutes later, all hell broke loose, and now here we are." On the screen, John had stopped fighting, though whether because he was unconscious or mentally checked out or for some other reason, there was no way to tell. Two staff members remained to get him into bed; the others started trying to disperse the other children. One of them finally noticed Chase's plight, then others hurried to tend to him, and the children continued either watching the show or occupying themselves during the commotion. "Keep an eye on the situation," Bruce said heavily. "I'm going out after Peter." o.o.o.o.o It was long past midnight when a tired-looking woman showed up. "This him?" "Yes, Sherry. Really, thank you again, thank you so much, I can't tell you how grateful we are--" "Yeah, that's fine. Hey, kiddo." She bent down to shake Peter roughly. He woke up with a shriek and took a swing at her, but she slapped his arm away in time to protect herself. The night secretary gasped and hastily looked away as if she hadn't seen. "Let's go, you wanna sleep somewhere better than this floor, right?" "[chirp-chirp] [warble]," Peter demanded. "That's nice. Come on, pick up that bag, I'm not carrying all your luggage for you." In the car, she slapped Peter a few times while she was forcing the seatbelt on him, and deftly dodged his retaliatory strikes. He hissed and snarled and crowed, but once the car started moving, he got distracted gazing in fascination out the window at all the passing street lights in the darkness. When they arrived at the apartment, Peter struggled the whole way up the stairs as a matter of principle, retaliating for all the times she hit him to try to keep him moving. She practically threw him through her front door and shoved his bags in after him. She slammed the door shut and then went to sit in front of the TV and light up a cigarette. "What the hell," her daughter's boyfriend complained, having just drained his third beer can. "Some punk kid they couldn't find a home for. Real little monster; keep away from him." Meanwhile, [caw] rescued Dog and hugged him, then, because the woman wasn't hitting him or making him do things anymore and hadn't tied him, he went to explore. There wasn't much food in the refrigerator or food room, and the woman and man yelled at him and tried to hit him when they saw him looking, so he hissed at them and swiped at them and ran, clutching the little bit he'd managed to steal. They didn't chase him. So this was a food-finding place, not a food-giving place. That was okay, he already ate lots and lots today. He went on looking. This was the water room, so small and ugly; he liked This Bat's water rooms much better. Another room had lots of kids in it, all bigger than him. Two of them were sleeping; one was playing a game like the ones on [warble]'s phone; two more were kissing. Boring. [caw] went to another room, and there was a woman sleeping in it, and a baby. [caw] petted the baby, it was soft. He went into the last room, and it smelled bad but the bed was very big (there was food in it, but it tasted bad, so he stopped eating it). He would have played with the ants in the bed, but there was something much better to play with in the corner, it was a dog. A Titus dog, not a Dog dog, except it was little like Dog instead of big like Titus. It was white and smelled like poop and very sad, and probably hungry. It cried and licked licked licked [caw]'s fingers while he tried to break its cage. He pushed his hands on the little sticking out things, it was very hard to push hard enough the exact right stupid way, but finally he did it. Sad Poop was immediately in his lap, licking and licking and licking and whining "Frantic/sad/happy!!!" [caw] kissed and pet and played with Sad Poop, and gave her some of the food in his pocket to eat. Her fur was stiff with dried muck, but that wasn't her fault, so he kept petting her. When she finally calmed down, he picked her up, her and Dog squeezed together in his arms, and carried them very carefully to the room with the baby. He crawled under the bed where he and the dogs would be safe, and they all fell asleep. o.o.o.o.o Tim called the agency. "Heeeeyyy, this is Timothy Drake, my clone Jack is in foster care. Just wondering why he showed up in Crest Hill a little while ago, unaccompanied." 
"Jack-- Wait, you mean the little Joker ki--?! I mean, Timothy Jackson Drake, Ctr.?"
 "Yup. I'm not complaining or anything, I'm just wondering--" 
"He's with YOU?!"
 "He took a taxi. Like, an honest-to-God taxicab. He called us from the driveway of Drake Manor, and we went to pick him up. I think he stole his foster parents' credit card." "Hold on, hold on just a second, Mr. Drake, please don't hang up!!" She put him on hold, and Tim almost leisurely eavesdropped on what she was saying out of his official hearing. "Diane! Diane, that was Tim Drake on the phone, that was Jack's prime being!" 
"The kid's a clone?"
 
"Diane, he's at DRAKE MANOR! Or Wayne Manor, or something; he's all the way in Bristol!"
 
"You're kidding me."
 
"They Reynards, Diane, call the--! He said, Mr. Drake said Jack went there in a taxi."
 
"That's ridiculous! The kid is, like, five."
 
"Diane, just tell them he's been found so they'll stop panicking!"
 
"All right, all right!"
 The Reynards were intensely relieved for about two minutes, then angry. Tim watched the lengthy phone tag between them, the agency, and the police, quietly intervening whenever the timing seemed right, and it was eventually worked out that Jack had, indeed, used Gina Reynard's credit card to pay for a taxi ride from the thoroughfare near their neighborhood to Drake Manor. "Mr. Drake," the night secretary said, sounding nervous about passing along the message Tim had just heard, "the Reynards...they-- Well, is there any chance you can keep Jack at least for the night?" "I actually want to keep him indefinitely. We had second thoughts about putting the kids into foster care, and Bruce's lawyers are working to get us custody back." 
"Oh, good! I mean.... It's just, the Reynards have always had a strict preference for younger children, this whole thing about running away and stealing money, that's exactly the sort of fostering experience they wanted to avoid."
 "It's fine. Like I said, we want Jack back, he's actually already asleep in his room here." "I'm so glad.... To be honest, I don't know where else we could have placed him, especially so last-minute. We're already having enough trouble with--" She abruptly cut herself off. "With what?" Tim asked, trying to keep the sharpness out of his tone. "We're also trying to get hold of John and Peter again, too, you know." "Yes...yes, well, I'm very glad that Jack is safe, I hope everything works out for you! Their new social worker should be stopping by the Reynards' tomorrow, they'll bring Jack's things to you. Good night, Mr. Drake!" She hung up before he could ask anything else. To be continued.... A/N: Bruce putting on the Brucie act to explain why he's calling in the middle of the night was originally supposed to be for Peter's foster family, but I did not expect for Peter to behave so badly that he didn't even make it through a single night at his first placement. X'''''D Apparently it's Batfam Week. I think I heard about that being a thing and wrote a note to myself about it, which I then promptly lost and forgot about. X''D I wish I could have participated, and I have nostalgia for the days when I used to write a story for tons of pairing days and holidays in the Kingdom Hearts fandom, but unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to do Batfam Week this year. Even if my responsibilities didn't get in the way, my muse is 100% obsessed with TBWS at the moment. It's cool to see so many other people writing for it, though!

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 6 (rough draft)
 Outside the Henderson apartment, Batman had set up what cameras he could, then perched on the building opposite. Heat and x-ray scans showed three adult-sized bodies, two in one area of the apartment and the third horizontal in what was probably a bedroom. That one had either a baby or a small pet in the bed with it, it was difficult to tell from this distance. Five child-sized bodies were crammed into what must have been a second bedroom, and an animal was alone in a far corner of the dwelling. The sixth child-sized body was probably Peter, since it was actively roaming as Batman would have expected Peter to do upon being introduced to a new environment and left to his own devices. The child knelt by the lone animal for a long time, then picked it up and carried it to the room with the sleeping adult and baby/pet, where it looked like he must have crawled under the bed, presumably to sleep. 'And what are you doing all this time, Henderson?' Batman thought resentfully at the motionless larger heat blob in the living room. He kept vigil for hours. At one point, the smaller adult from the living room came to lie down with the sleeping one, and a few minutes later, they were having sex. Peter's shape jerked in what looked like panic and Batman tensed, but then the boy slowed and wandered out of the room at an unhurried pace, so he'd probably just been startled awake by the noise. The animal, which moved more like a dog than a cat, was practically glued to his heels. Peter looked like he was now searching for something in a different part of the apartment. Suddenly, the third adult shape, which had been motionless for some time, lumbered upright and marched toward the child. Batman very nearly called out a warning, then cursed his own stupidity; Peter wouldn't be able to hear him from out here. The dog hastily retreated, and Batman was frozen with indecision for a moment, the urge to protect his son warring with the insufficient grounds for intervention. Hopefully, Henderson would keep any attacks purely verbal. The hope was dashed a second later; she had definitely struck the child, again while Batman went into motion, then a third time while he was shooting out his grapple line. The vigilante could hear her shouting and Peter's furious shrieks and the dog's barking even without the cowl's enhancements. An instant later, he was crashing through the window. o.o.o.o.o The problem was that he couldn't just pick up his son and take him home. Even if he wasn't currently surrounded by police officers and frightened children, there was still the fact that Peter, cowering there in the corner with both the real dog and his stuffed one clutched in his arms, would never willingly go anywhere with a person he feared and loathed so much. "What will be done with the children?" Batman asked one of the officers gruffly. "CPS is on their way. You know, we've gotten a lot of reports about this place; first time we had enough proof to arrest her. Lucky you were passing by when you did." "I was tracking down a lead in a different case, but the children are more important." The officer's attention was pulled elsewhere, and Batman very carefully signed to the boy in the corner, "You are safe?" 
"...Stay away!"
 
"Yes."
 After a long pause, the corner of Peter's mouth curled up. Batman went breathless and didn't dare move for fear he'd destroy the moment. "Good hit." 
"....I want to protect you."
 The little lopsided smile turned to bared teeth and a hiss. Batman melted out of the apartment and went to keep watch on a different building. It was now a little after dawn, and Tim's voice came through the comm. "Are you going to work today?" "...Are you?" 
"Probably."
 "Did you sleep at all last night?" 
"...Yes."
 "Micro-naps don't count. Did you sleep for at least two continuous hours, Red Robin?" "So you are going in to work, then?" the teen challenged. Batman closed his eyes briefly in frustration. Work was the last place he wanted to be today, but he knew that if he didn't go in, his sleep-deprived son would. Tim needed rest. "Yes. I just want to see who comes to pick up Bird 2, then I'll head back." 
"Fine."
 o.o.o.o.o "Hi there, Peter!" [caw] cautiously watched the new approaching big person. "My name is Cole Sullivan. Nice to meet you!" "Friendly, curious." Big people wanted you to shake their hands when they stuck them out like this, so [caw] did. "Looks like I'm your new social worker! And you're the first one of your brothers I get to meet. I hear there's two more?" [caw] knew that word 'brothers.' "Jjohnny Jjja'ckk mmy bboddas. Ggimme." "That's right, John and Peter and Jack. We're gonna go on back to the main office, okay? I got a looootta phone calls to make about you!" [caw] didn't mind going with the man, but they wanted him to leave Sad Poop behind. "NO! NO NO NO NO NOOOO!" "Uh...Peter...seriously, we can't take the dog with us...." o.o.o.o.o Batman looked up Cole Sullivan and was dismayed to find how young the man was - this was his first job other than the part-time work he'd done in college, and he'd only been hired a month ago. He didn't seem upset by Peter's tantrum, but was helpless and confused when the boy refused to be soothed. After a while, Cole started working on his phone, leaving Peter to scream and kick on the floor. By now, Sherry had been taken away, her daughter was wearily still talking to the police, the daughter's boyfriend had vanished, and all the other children had been picked up by their social workers. With no one feeding Peter's tantrum, he eventually calmed down. An animal control worker had arrived by that time and was watching Peter warily. "They sent me out for a dog, but maybe I should take the kid instead," he joked to Cole. "Hah! Don't do that," Cole laughed. "Poor puppy, I think it's been abused or something. The daughter and boyfriend didn't want it, so I guess it's going to the pound?" "If the kid'll let me have it." "Well, I can't let him take it.... Here, I'm going to distract him with some candy." Peter was successfully distracted, but when the dog was picked up, it started making high-pitched yelps like screams, and Peter started screaming again, too. He attacked the animal control worker until Cole managed to haul him off. The worker tossed the dog into his van, scrambled into the driver's seat, and drove away with a screech of tires. Cole held Peter in a restraint, checking to make sure he'd gotten it right, until Peter's screams finally dissolved into tears. Batman, watching, found himself trembling with anger and helplessness. "D'ddo'ggie...ddo'ggie...!" the boy wailed brokenly. "Aw...it's okay, Peter," Cole said awkwardly. "Some foster families have dogs, maybe you'll meet another cute one soon." He managed to haul the child to his car. Peter, finding yet another horrible seatbelt being fastened around him, pushed and fought, but he was so tired, so sad that it made him tired, he couldn't stop the man from tying him. He cried for Sad Poop, and he reached for Dog instead, but he couldn't find Dog and it didn't matter anyway because Dog was just a thing, Dog wasn't alive, Sad Poop was alive and scared and they were probably going to eat her, and he would never see her again. She was so sad and he'd wanted her to be happy, but now she was even more sad. Maybe it was his fault...he lied to her, he told her it would be okay, but it wasn't okay.... Batman, after confirming that Cole was heading to the agency's headquarters to drop off Peter, went after the animal control van. He made his way inside while it was still moving, got hold of the filthy, squirming white terrier mix, and grappled off into the sunrise without the driver even being aware of his presence. The dog would not stop barking for thirty straight minutes. Finally, she lay down in a corner of the Batmobile and started whining instead, high-pitched noises that sounded like weeping, and that was even worse. "Just...hold on, we're almost home," Batman muttered. When he got to the Batcave, he found that the entire rest of the household had gone to bed already, so he was the one who had to get the dog settled. He didn't have time to care for her properly, but he made sure that the crate he put her in was large, and he included some toys with her water and food, the latter which she attacked as if she was starving. He texted Alfred and Damian to alert them of the manor's latest occupant, then hurried to shower and change before heading off again, this time to Wayne Enterprises. o.o.o.o.o After Cole dropped off Peter at the agency's main office, he drove over to the Reynards' house to pick up Jack's things. "How is he?" Ginny asked as she and her husband helped Cole load the car. "I actually haven't even seen him yet! I only just got assigned to them today; the only one I've met so far is Peter." "I just can't believe it.... He's only six, yet he ran away and took a taxi to Bristol all by himself, what sort of child does that?!" Cole whistled, impressed. "A pretty smart one, I guess." And a lucky one, to have made such a journey safely in Gotham. "I thought he was happy! We were kind to him, we took good care of him, he was such a good, sweet boy. Then he goes and does this behind our backs! What sort of child does that?! He's six!" "Now you're making me curious." He shut the trunk of the car. Louis Reynard shook his hand. "Well, tell Jack we wish him the best." "Will do." Cole drove all the way to Wayne Manor, grateful for the invention of GPS, otherwise he would have gotten completely lost. When he finally made it to the front doors, an actual butler answered. "Wow! That's so cool, I didn't know people still have butlers. Do I put Jack's things here in the hall, or...?" "That will do for now." Once all Jack's luggage was inside, Cole asked if he could talk to the boy himself. "Figure I'd better meet him, since I'm his social worker now." The butler's tone was so chilly that Cole felt his spine creep. "Surely you don't intend to take the child to a different residence?" "Oh, no, geez, they're going crazy about these kids back at the office, I'm just glad you don't want me to haul him out of here. Poor kid just got kicked out, I feel bad for him." "I see." The butler showed him into a fancy den, where The Incredibles was playing on a giant TV. Dick Grayson was dozing on a couch that looked big, but seemed small because there was also a child, a Great Dane, and a cat crammed onto it. The dog was also asleep, stretched out contentedly alongside the humans; the cat was curled up by Dick's head; the boy was huddled between the young man and the dog as he sucked on a chew fidget and watched the movie. As soon as Cole entered, the child tightened his grip on Grayson and started to whimper, and a second dog, a little fluffy white thing huddled on a pillow nearby, immediately leaped to its feet and started barking. Grayson groaned at the noise. "Oh, man, I didn't mean to bother you!" Cole said quickly, raising his hands. "I just wanted to meet you real quick, Jack." The child stared at him fearfully. Grayson sat up, forcing the Great Dane to shift, and put both arms around the little boy. "Please don't take him. His life's been disrupted enough, and we want to keep him. He'll start screaming and maybe hurt somebody if you try to take him." "Oh, no, I just wanted to meet him! I mean, I'm his social worker; I'm supposed to meet my kids, right?" The child looked even more terrified, now clinging to Grayson with both little hands. "Hey, Jack," Cole said gently. "My name's Cole. I'm your new social worker, I'm just here to drop off your stuff. You know, if this is a good home for you, you get to stay here, right?" He hadn't had time to read much of the Joker kids' files yet, but it was pretty clear that the Waynes, despite putting them into foster care in the first place, still wanted them, and that nobody else did. "His prime being lives here," Grayson went on, his voice as tense as his body. "Tim's seventeen but he's legally emancipated, he's rich enough to take care of a kid, and he loves Jack. Bruce will adopt Jack if Tim can't. Jack loves Tim, too, he's used to living here, you can't take him away." Cole was starting to get the feeling he wasn't wanted. "Uh...well, like I said, I'm just here to drop off his stuff. Jack, I'm not a bad guy, okay?" He held out his hand to shake. After two minutes of trying to convince the child to greet him, he finally just gave up; he was starting to get texts about the other two Joker kids, anyway. "Well, it was good to meet you. I'll see you guys later, okay?" "Ggoo'dbbye, goo'dbbye, goo'dbbye," the child chanted like it was a ward against evil. "Bye, Jack." Cole headed out after Peter again. To be continued.... A/N: Why is this scenario so long?! I keep trying to at least get into the final stretch, but the story just keeps getting longer and longer and longer, like TBWS itself. X''''D I think Peter's and Jack's plotlines will resolve soon, but John's is long.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 7 (rough draft)
 He had to drive all the way back to the main office to get Peter again, because they'd finally found someone who'd take him as an emergency placement. "He's not an inmate or anything," Cole made sure to tell the hard-faced woman and man who approached him in the lobby. He could feel Peter pressing into his side, and he felt bad. "He wasn't arrested, it's just an emergency foster placement. Be nice to him, okay?" "We know what to do with kids who bite," the woman said ominously. Cole didn't like the way she was looking at Peter, or how frightened Peter looked. He knelt to put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Hey, Petey, so this is just temporary, okay? I think the Waynes want you back, they're probably working on getting custody, but for now, you're just going to be here for a little while, okay? I'll call you every day to see how you're doing. Just don't bite anyone, be good, and you'll probably do fine, okay?" "...[chirp-chirp], [warble]." "Um, and maybe don't make bird noises, because the kids might make fun of you for that." He stood up again and patted Peter's shoulder. "You'll be okay." It wasn't okay, though. When the other man took Peter's arm and tried to pull him away, Peter hissed and clung to Cole. The situation rapidly deteriorated, and then Cole was staring as three bleeding and shouting adults pinned a screaming, writhing, panicked child to the floor, and he understood now why the last social worker had quit and why the kids had such a hard time being placed. He turned away and called the office. "Hey, so, uh! I just dropped off Peter the bird kid, or I'm trying to, but Ree, this is not going well! Like, at all. He's scared and they're making it worse, I have to take him to a different foster home!" 
"Cole, THERE IS NO OTHER FOSTER HOME. No one wants him! No one wants these kids, even the freaking Wayne Foundation doesn't want them."
 Cole knew what she was referring to. "They're not getting rid of John, they're just switching him with a different home. Peter, though - I mean, it's bad, Ree. They've got him all pinned, treating him like a criminal, he's just a kid, Ree! He bites and stuff because he's scared! Jack didn't try to bite at Wayne Manor; can I take Peter back to the Waynes?" 
"Cole, Wayne put him in foster care, Grayson made himself ineligible, and the prime doesn't give two flips about his clone. I don't know what strings they're pulling or what lawyers they're talking to, but as of this moment, the files I'm looking at are stuffed with can'ts. We're

lucky

that

anyone

will take them."
 "Ree...Ree, I can't just leave him here." Cole's heart broke as he watched Peter being dragged away, screaming. "Oh no, they forgot his dog-- Ree, I'll call you back, okay?" He hung up and went to retrieve the stuffed dog from the floor where it had fallen and been kicked aside. He wasn't fast enough following them, and he couldn't get through the set of doors when they automatically locked behind the people forcing Peter down the hall. By the time Cole had gotten hold of the director, convinced him to allow the door to be opened, and waited ages until a grudging custodian finally trudged up to unlock it, he had no idea where Peter was. "I just want to give him his dog!" Cole said helplessly, giving up for the moment on placing the child elsewhere. "He can have it when his punishment is over." "What kind of punishment?! You don't use corporal punishment here, do you?!" "Of course not. He'll be in solitary for an hour or so until he calms down." "He-- I told you, he's not a criminal offender like the other kids here are--" "No one here is allowed to bite, not even the overflows from the foster system." "Well...well, then, just...where's his stuff? I'll put the dog with his stuff, he can have it when he gets out...." As soon as Cole left the building, he called the contact number he'd been given for Bruce Wayne. 
"You have reached Wayne Manor. How many I help you?"
 "Is this--? Uh, is this the butler?" 
"Yes, sir. With whom am I speaking?"
 "Well, this is Cole Sullivan, the social worker; I was trying to get hold of Bruce Wayne. If he's still interested in what's going on with Peter, at least." The butler's voice sharpened. "You have news of Master Peter?" "Yeah, see, they told me they had a placement for him, but it's--" He abruptly remembered the confidentiality policies. "Uhhh, sorry, I think I can only tell Mr. Wayne himself, or, no, actually, just the prime being. Just, do you guys want all the Joker kids, or just Jack?" 
"We fully intend to bring all three of our children back home as soon as possible."
 "Oh, good," Cole said, relieved. "Well, I guess I'll see you when you've got everything worked out, then. Thanks, Mr.--!" He didn't know the butler's name. "Uh, sir." He hung up and then drove to his next stop of the day, which was John's group home. Apparently the kid had been disturbing the other children to the point where at least one of them was in danger of deteriorating mental health, so John was being switched with a child from another Wayne Foundation group home. Cole knocked on the door warily, wondering if this one would be a frightened wreck like Jack or a frightened thunderstorm like Peter. As it turned out, the oldest boy was just a complete blank, and Cole wondered how this unresponsive doll could have caused multiple panic attacks in his housemates. "Hi, John," Cole said gently, kneeling beside the child. "My name is Cole, I'm here to take you to another home. You think you can walk for me?" There was absolutely no response. "Is he asleep?" Cole asked one of the nearby staff members in confusion. "He checks out. He's usually either wreaking havoc or dissociating, there's not much middle ground." "Oh, geez. I wonder why he's like that?" The woman raised her eyebrow at him, then reached for John and gently raised his chin. "See this?" she said, indicating his scarred neck. "What's that look like to you?" Cole squinted. "Look." She lifted the boy's arm, fingertips hovering over the scars at his wrist and the other marks that disappeared up into his sleeve. "His entire body is like that. His back is covered with whip scars. What do you think it does to a child, to suffer like that on top of whatever Joker crap he was drugged up on? He needs more help than we can give him. This boy might need more help than anyone can give him." "Help like...therapy? Or something?" "He refuses to interact in any way with the psychologist, and he reacts very badly to any kind of drug - he can tell, even when we try to hide it in his food. He won't even eat any food at all, whether it's got drugs in it or not. Honestly, we don't know what to do with this kid." Cole stared, unable to think of anything to say. "The only thing I can think of is reuniting him with his brothers, the other Joker children - he keeps making bird noises when he looks out the window, like he's calling them. Do you know if they've found a home for all three yet, or even just two of them?" "It's crazy, everyone's been on the phone about it all day, but they keep causing trouble at the only homes that will take them. I want to give them all back to Wayne, even the Waynes want them back, but there's...paperwork? That says they can't?? I don't know what happened, but they said they're getting their lawyers to work on it, so I'm hoping they'll get whatever it is cleared up soon." "I hope so, too." The woman leaned down to kiss John's hair. "I'm sorry it didn't work out, Johnny. Maybe we'll see you again someday." The boy was a robot until Cole tried to put him in the car, then suddenly he came to life like an enraged tiger cub. He screamed and clawed and fought, and one of the group home staff had to help him get the kid into a restraint. "Owww, John!" Cole winced, unable to touch the blood running down his skin but feeling the sting of the scratches on his neck. "You gotta calm down, little guy!" He lost count of how many minutes the boy raged. Then all of a sudden he went limp and started laughing, laughing and laughing like Joker's victims did, even though there was no way he could have been Jokerized when they'd been watching him the whole time. "Holy cow, John, can you stop? That's really creepy." He didn't stop. Cole managed to get a hand on the boy's face and look directly into his eyes. "John, please stop laughing." He did. He stared intently into Cole's eyes, then glared and made bird noises. "Yeah, that's better. You can make the warbley noise, okay?" He'd much, much rather listen to bird noises than that laughter. "[caw]! [warble]!" "That's right. Good." It took both adults to wrestle John into his seatbelt, and then Cole rewarded the boy with a candy, which he promptly hurled away. "Holy cow, John, you could hurt someone doing that! That candy was for you, buddy. It was for you." "crow!" "You want another one?" Cole gave him another candy. John stared at him, then, still looking at him, threw the second treat as well. "Man, don't waste my candy...." Cole looked through the luggage to see if there was a toy he could give John. He found a stuffed elephant, and offered it. John stared at it without making any move to take it. Cole finally put it in the boy's lap, then went around to get into the driver's seat. Once they were on their way with the phone in hands-free mode, Cole called the group home he was heading to. "Hi, Stacey! It's Cole Sullivan. Just letting you know that I'm on my way with John." 
"On your--? Is that the boy we were supposed to switch Andrew with?"
 "Yep, that's the one." 
"Didn't Marianne tell you?! We can't take anyone new today! We got a group of five siblings at four in the morning, that's four kids over capacity even

with

losing Andrew, we told Marianne to delay the transfer!"
 Cole was dismayed. "Wait, what? Like, I have John in the car right now. We're driving to your place." 
"I mean, hopefully we can get the Marlow kids placed out soon,

then

we can take John, but you're going to have to find someone else for him for the next day or two. Marianne didn't tell you?!"
 "I haven't heard from her at all.... Well, look, then what am I supposed to do with John? I can't take him back, they're over capacity, too." 
"I...I don't know, Cole.... Maybe if we got five more of our kids transferred, but that's-- I mean, we can't do that to them. Andrew wasn't fitting in well here, but everyone else has been pretty happy for the most part, we can't send out

five

of them, especially if the Marlows are leaving again soon...!"
 "Hmm. Let me make some phone calls; I'll call you back." Cole pulled into a nearby parking lot and then looked up a phone list. He called each number, and was soon surprised by how many homes turned him down the minute they learned who his charge was. He was starting to wonder if he should just drive John to Wayne Manor when he finally got a hit with the third-to-last home on the list. 
"Sure, we can take him."
 Cole blinked. "Really?!" 
"I mean, we get a budget raise like normal, right? No weird circumstances with this kid?"
 "I mean, he's a Joker bird kid, but on our end, no, no weird circumstances." 
"Sure, bring him over."
 "Oh, awesome. Thank you so much, man, I was starting to worry!" He called Stacey back to tell her not to worry, too. Feeling happier himself, he carefully pulled back into traffic. "Did you hear that, John? Someone wants you!" There was no response. Glancing in the mirror showed him a chunk of green-and-black hair and a bit of pale forehead, but he couldn't see the boy's face, and then someone honked as they whizzed by. Cole yelped and concentrated on his driving after that. To be continued....

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 8 (rough draft)
 A/N: I know it's really spelled "Wearhouse," but I have no idea if the real Men's Wearhouse is what I need, so I'm going with the "Warehouse" spelling to make it fictional. X'D o.o.o Everyone was out of bed a little earlier than usual, and ate a quick lunch so that they could be out the door by 11:30. Jack sobbed and tried to squirm away when they attempted to put a seatbelt on him. "Jackie." Dick took his hands and gazed at him earnestly. "You can stay home with Alfred if you want, or you can wear the seatbelt and go with us to see Johnny and Peter. Do you want to stay home with Grandpa, or go see [chirp-chirp] and [caw]?" Jack stared back with big tearful blue eyes. "I...wwan'tt...[chirp-chirp] [caw]...ccome hhere wi' me." "They can't come home yet, Jackie. We have to go see them. Can you wear a seatbelt so you can go see them, or do you want to stay home and see them later, when we get custody back?" "No sseatbet!" "So you're going to stay here with Grandpa?" Yet Jack wailed when they tried to leave without him. Tim pushed Dick aside. "Timothy Jackson Drake," he said crisply, holding out a closed fist, "either you stay here at the manor with Alfred and the dogs and no brothers," he brought up his other fist beside the first, "or you get the seatbelt and Dick and John and Peter. Which one?" He shook each fist to indicate the choices. "You want to stay home, or you want to go in the car? You can't have both. Choose." After a long moment, the little boy reached out a trembling hand to rest on the car fist. "You're sure? That means we're going to tie you to that seat so you can't get up, for hours." "Tim--" "You want the seatbelt and your brothers?" Tim stormed on. "You're sure?" "...Gentle me," Jack signed shakily, and edged toward Dick. He cried when he was buckled in and held tight to Dick's hand, but he didn't struggle or protest this time. They were soon on their way in the van, Tim driving and Duke beside him and Damian grumbling next to Cassandra in the back. Most of the ride was spent keeping Jack occupied so that he could bear being restrained. Unfortunately, when they pulled up to John's group home, they were told that the boy had been transferred. "What do you mean he's been transferred?!" Dick raged, not realizing that he was frightening Jack. Duke gently tugged the child into his arms to soothe him, and Damian patted his head in an inexpert attempt at the same. "You can't do that without telling me! I'm his prime, I should know if my kid gets kicked out of a foster home!" "Mr. Grayson, I'm sorry, you're not listed as a contact, so we didn't think--" "He's MY KID! You can't just--!" Tim kicked the back of his foot to get his attention and tapped in code on his back, "Calm." "He's worried," he said out loud in an apologetic tone, "like any parent would be if their kid wasn't accounted for." Dick finally figured out what Tim was trying to tell him, that losing his temper could hurt his case for being a good guardian and jeopardize his chances of getting John back. He tried to swallow his fury. "Where did you send him?" "To Oak Park Children's Home. I can get you the address." Damian, standing protectively in front of Jack, demanded, "And just why did you feel the need to get rid of the child who'd been entrusted to your care?" Jack was in Duke's arms, face buried in his foster brother's shoulder and hands clinging to his shirt as the teen murmured reassurances to him. "We would have kept him, we'll take him back if the situation improves, but he was causing severe distress to our other residents, aggravating at least one case of Joker-related PTSD. I understand and fully sympathize with what John has suffered, but we couldn't keep putting our other children at risk. We're hoping that Oak Park will be a better solution for everyone, including John." Dick snatched the paper she gave him and stormed back to the car, his siblings following in his wake. "Dick," Tim said sharply, stepping in front of him before he could open the front driver's side door, "are you going to drive recklessly if I let you behind the wheel?" "GODDAMMIT--" "Still watching!" Tim reminded him in sign, and Dick wanted to explode. He squeezed himself into the back seat and tried to meditate away his frustration, leaving Cassandra to comfort Jack through the next seatbelt ordeal. They never made it to Oak Park, because an important message from Bruce came in before they arrived. "We might not make it in time if we go all the way to the manor and back," Tim said, making a smooth U-turn. "We can't risk being late for this." "You and Richard aren't dressed properly," Damian pointed out. "And we can't pop into a fancy store to buy suits for them because...?" Duke suggested. "Vivaldi's is on the way to the courthouse," Tim agreed. "They're gonna spend hours brownnosing and trying to swindle all the extras they can get out of us," Dick pointed out, still in a bad mood. "Men's Warehouse is on the way, too." "Father's sons can't be seen in attire from Men's Warehouse!" Damian protested, scandalized. Tim found it greatly heartwarming that the brat had so matter-of-factly included him in the 'Father's sons' category, not that he would ever admit it. Duke rolled his eyes. "All they need is just to not show up to a court hearing wearing jeans and T-shirts." Tim nodded. "Suits are suits. The point is to rescue our birds, not uphold the glory of the Wayne name or whatever." "-TT- Very well. But I expect those purchases to be donated to charity directly afterward." "You are such a snob...." o.o.o.o.o The morning was a blur. Sleep-deprivation, stress, and preoccupation made it difficult to concentrate. At one point, Lucius simply came to work in Bruce's office, since that was more efficient than Bruce calling or emailing him every twenty minutes. Just before lunch, Bruce got a call from JoAnn. "Can you get yourself, Dick, Tim, and Jason to the downtown courthouse before one o'clock?" "I can, and Dick and Tim will probably make it if it's for the kids. I still haven't been able to get hold of Jason, though." 
"Bruce, if that boy wants to keep his chances of making custody decisions for his sweet pumpkin, he had better either show up to the gosh-diddly courthouse or be reported as a missing person."
 "I'll take care of it. What's happened?" 
"Just me and my brilliant team earning our pay. If their angels up in heaven are smiling today, then all three little treasures will be sitting around your obnoxiously huge supper table tonight, papers and all."
 "Thank you, JoAnn. Really, thank you, I can--" 
"Just be in court, Wayne, with your sons."
 Bruce immediately messaged Dick and Tim and, hopelessly, Jason. Tim responded with a simple Fine. Dick promised to be there and added that the rest of his siblings were with him, including Jack. Bruce supposed there was no harm in them tagging along, assuming Jack didn't have any kind of alarming episode in public. It was a casual meeting, though Bruce was still glad to see Dick and Tim show up in suits. Judge Mitch Avery was doing a huge favor to JoAnn by meeting with her and her clients during his lunch break. "Okay, so what've we got here?" he asked, bringing his meal back from the microwave. "The custody papers," JoAnn announced, laying them all out neatly along with other relevant documents. Bruce and Dick were sitting on one side of her, Tim on the other; the others were wandering throughout the courthouse as they waited. "Let's see here...." They all tried to wait patiently as he looked through the documents. Mitch eventually raised his eyes to move between all the men at his table. "I'm seeing a Bruce Wayne, a Richard Grayson, and a Timothy Drake-Wayne, but who I'm not seeing is a Jason Todd-Wayne." JoAnn tensed, then relaxed again when Bruce pulled out a file (it was, for the most part, legitimate, though he'd had to Bat-doctor the date to make it seem like he'd filed the report a few days, rather than weeks, after anyone in the family had heard from their wayward brother). "His missing persons report. He would want to make custody decisions for Peter if he knew about the boy's situation, and I am positive he would not want Peter in general foster care." Mitch looked at the report, then laid it aside. "All right, youngest first. Timothy, talk to me." "I want someone I trust to adopt Jack," Tim said at once. "I will, if there's no one else, it's just that that I'd have to hire a nanny or something, which I can definitely afford. I'm not happy with him being thrown out into foster care alone. I only let him go in the first place on the understanding that he would be placed together with his brothers, but the agency we entrusted them to decided to separate them." "Says here he's designated as your brother rather than your son." "That was before the whole foster mess. If I'd known it was going to turn out like this, I would have claimed him as my son from the start." "All right. You have anyone in mind to adopt him?" "I'd been hoping Bruce, but we tried foster care in the first place because the kids weren't settling in at the manor, even after more than two months. If Jack wants to be adopted by Bruce, then I'm all for that, but I can't...really think of anyone else I trust who'd also have the means to raise him. Like I said, I'll adopt him if I have to." "All right. Well, I can't see any reason to deny you full guardianship for now, so...." He signed a set of papers and pushed them at Tim, who lifted them up very carefully. There was no change in his expression or Bruce's, but Dick let out a deep, relieved exhale on behalf of them both. "Now then, the oldest one, Richard Grayson, Ctr." "Johnny. He's mine. Same as with Tim; thought Bruce would adopt him, but I will if there's no one else. I have to get him out of the system, he needs to be with his brothers, I--" He shut his mouth when Bruce discreetly pressed his leg in warning. "Says here you don't have the means to support your son." "I signed that because I'd just lost my job, but I have another one now." It was a fib - what he really had was no more pride holding him back from accepting Bruce's money to take care of John, as well as no more reluctance to put his life on hold in order to raise unplanned children, but the end effect was the same. "I've got more than enough income to raise a kid, I can take care of Johnny now. And Peter, if I have to; all three of them. I want to, if no one else does." Mitch scrutinized Dick's bank statements, then shrugged and signed the guardianship papers for John as well. Dick snatched them up and resisted the urge to hug them. "And last but not least, the younger Jason Peter Todd, here." There was a long pause, where only vigilante training prevented the three Waynes from showing their anxiety. "So Jason prime's been missing for two months?" "Yes," Bruce said. "He was at the manor when I brought the children home - we'd had more reason to believe back then that the boys would eventually settle in - and nothing seemed amiss. He's always done a lot of traveling, and we expected him to be back for his usual visits. I don't know if he would have wanted to raise Peter himself or allow me to adopt him, but either way, he seemed to be expecting Peter to reside at the manor indefinitely. And like I said, I am certain that he would not have wanted his son in general foster care without his brothers." "Hmm." Mitch considered, chewing on another bite of his lunch. Under the table, Dick was desperately drumming his fingers on Bruce's knee so that he could keep the rest of his body still, something he'd used to do as a child enduring boring social functions. "You said you'd be willing to be his guardian, Richard? Are there any other takers?" "None that I know of, except Bruce." "I will, if the only other option is keeping him in the system," Tim volunteered. Mitch eyed him. "You're seventeen. You don't seem like the parenting type." "Regardless of my personal parenting abilities, I can hire good caretakers if necessary." "He has an excellent track record for hiring at Wayne Enterprises," Bruce put in. "Very thoughtful, good at reading people. I trust him to find loving, responsible caretakers for these children, and I think it would be greatly preferable to leaving the boys' welfare up to a system that has failed them so far." "These are the records I was able to get from the agency," JoAnn spoke up, sliding over a folder. "Peter and Jack didn't last more than a single night at their first placements. The person we spoke to at the agency stated that almost thirty potential foster homes rejected the children outright. Dick and Bruce told me right before this meeting that John's been transferred out of his first placement, and Peter's second one was abusive. Jack, on his own initiative, ran away from his foster home and made it to the Waynes' neighborhood, which I think is pretty telling. I strongly support guardianship of all three children being given back to the Waynes." "If you're all so keen on getting custody of these kids," Mitch asked, "why did you give them up in the first place?" Bruce successfully suppressed his frustration. "I had no reason to believe that this situation would be any different than my other successful guardianship cases, but John, Peter, and Jack are more traumatized than my older children were. I thought they would do better in a different kind of home, but from what I understand, their anxiety has only worsened. I had explicitly specified that they were to be placed together, but by the time I learned that my wishes were not being honored, I no longer had custody of them." "Separating them is the worst thing they could have done," Dick couldn't help saying. "These kids have been through absolute hell together, they made up their own language together, they don't trust anyone nearly as much as they trust each other, and then the first thing Gotham social services does is tear them apart and put them in different homes with strangers. At least with us, they were together." Bruce pressed his leg again, and he managed to choke down the rest of what he wanted to say. "Would you like to meet Jack?" Tim said suddenly, his voice soft. Mitch blinked at him curiously. "The kids are here?" Bruce surreptitiously texted Duke and Damian. "Jack is. The agency couldn't find another placement for him after he made his way back home, so we kept him. He was running errands with us when Bruce texted us about this meeting." A few minutes later, Tim was ushering his siblings into the room. Jack, immediately picking up on the tense atmosphere, latched onto his older counterpart. Tim tried to pick him up, but Jack was clinging too hard to allow enough range of movement, so Tim knelt to his level instead. Mitch approached, his expression softening. "Hey there, little fellow. So you're Jack, huh?" Jack stared at him in despair, arms still tight around Tim's neck. Tim tightened his own hug and murmured soothingly. With their faces pressed together, the uncanny similarity between them was clear, despite the superficial differences. "Amazing. Jack, do you want to stay with Mr. Timothy here?" "...Ddonn't hhurr't mme." "Ah." Mitch looked like his heart had been struck by a platonic arrow from Cupid's quiver. If Dick hadn't been on pins and needles, he would have laughed at his babiest brother's ability to charm the most stoic heart, even when he wasn't trying. "No one's going to hurt you, Jack. I can see that someone hurt you a lot in the past, but that's over and done with. I bet you're missing your brothers, hm? I think you're going to see them again very soon." Mitch returned to the desk, signed Peter's papers, and slid them across to Bruce, who had to force himself to pick them up calmly rather than snatching them up in victorious relief. "There you go, Wayne. Congratulations on your sixth ward, God help you. I hope Jason turns up safe and sound soon." "Thank you." To be continued.... A/N: Okay, so I'm a few chapters ahead on this story, and I've finally written the scene that contains sexual abuse, and I'm trying to decide how to handle it. I think I'll have to censor it on DevArt because I don't know how strictly they interpret their rules; I might censor it on FFN just out of spite because I hate that site (or leave it in, for the exact same reason); AO3's the one where I feel indecisive. Although I like to read and write fluff and family feels and cuteness, I have no qualms writing or reading darker stuff, but then I get squeamish when it comes time to post. .....I'm actually not sure what kind of readers most of you guys are, like which parts of TBWS you actually like (the cute kids and Dad Bruce? The angst? General Batfam interaction? The recovery progression? Interpretation of the aftermath of "Metal"??) and which parts you're only tolerating until it gets back to the good stuff, whatever "the good stuff" may be for you. X'''D Like, I'd feel bad if the majority of TBWS readers are here for family fluff or something, since the less-than-cute stuff might be ruining it for you. If that's the case, I might be more inclined to censor.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

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.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlDeleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 10 (rough draft) 
A/N: Warning for both sexual and non-sexual child abuse.
 o.o.o They were talking to him. [chirp-chirp] didn't even try to listen. But then slowly, slowly, he started looking around the new place, and he started to be afraid. The children here were so frightened and hurting. The children in the last place had said many things with their bodies and voices, "Curious derisive angry happy mischievous assertive shy," many things, but here, they all said the same things. They said things that [chirp-chirp]'s flock always sang in That Master's lair, "Misery, fear, despair." They were pulling his head feathers, the big people. These weren't nice big people like in This Master's house or stupid, self-important big people like at the last place. They were more like That Master. Not confident like him, not as looming, not with evil eyes that looked straight into [chirp-chirp]'s soul and saw the ways to hurt him most. He was a demon; they were like hungry rats. It still hurt, though, when they pulled his feathers, and pushed him, and said things to him that he didn't understand but he could tell were meant to wound. He tried to leave. He tried to go away outside so he could listen to the small, free birds and maybe find a way out, find a way to his flockmates, but the big people pulled him. He fought, and they held him down; he screamed and screeched and tried to hurt them so they'd let go, but their claws only tightened. They mocked him and smeared something wet on his face; he tasted their blood in his mouth. "You tried to hurt us, but we are stronger than you," it meant. He didn't care. He would die trying to hurt them, they were just rats, he would submit to Master but he refused to submit to rats. They dragged him into a dark cage and tied him, and slammed the door and left him in the dark. He lay there for a long, long time, choking with terror. This Master had tied him with 'seatbelts,' he hated it so much but now he wished wished wished it was a seatbelt. He wanted a seatbelt and his flockmates and the numbers counting down and Master's gentle voice and 'ice cream.' He wanted it because it wasn't this, this tight tying of his whole body alone in the dark, he could hear the bats, Master had finally come back for him and tied him in the cave with the bats, [chirp-chirp] HATED IT SO MUCH but he was so afraid because when Master finally, finally came back for him, the pain would be even worse.... [chirp-chirp] realized he wasn't alone anymore. He'd Blinked again, not the good kind with Mama and Daddy or Zitka or [trill], the scary kind where he didn't know how he'd gotten from one place to another, and [warble] sometimes told him that it had been a long time and many things had happened, when [chirp-chirp] felt like it had only been a moment and nothing had happened. He was still in the cage, dark, tied, but he wasn't alone. He wished he was, because the man was touching the parts of him he never wanted anyone else to touch, rougher than That Master ever did, so it really hurt. Ugly grunting and panting sounds in the dark.... [chirp-chirp] stared. He couldn't move. He couldn't move at all to stop him, he tried but his arms and legs were still tied. He wasn't naked, but it didn't matter because his feathers had been pulled away enough that they couldn't protect him. "Stop," he begged. He remembered that big people didn't understand bird words. "Sssstto'pp!" A big hand clamped over his mouth, then the man climbed on him, so heavy, started rubbing against him and [chirp-chirp] couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe and it was so heavy it hurt. Tears were coming down his face. 'Stop...stop...!' He knew how to stop That Master. That Master always watched [chirp-chirp] when he touched him, because he liked to see [chirp-chirp] so afraid, but if the bird pretended he liked it and wanted more, That Master got disgusted and stopped. It wouldn't work this time, though. This man wasn't hurting [chirp-chirp] because he liked seeing birds cry; this man didn't even think [chirp-chirp] was alive. He thought [chirp-chirp] was just a dead thing to be used, and he didn't want to listen when [chirp-chirp] tried to tell him he was alive. He was too big and strong and [chirp-chirp] was tied, he couldn't stop it, so he had to escape instead. '[trill],' he thought, and looked for the Spot. She hovered in the air over him. "Got caught again, dummy! Saving [warble]?" 'No,' he thought. She could understand just his thoughts, because she was dead. 'No, he caught me when I Blinked, I couldn't stop him.' 
"Poor [chirp-chirp]. Need help?"
 
'Yes yes yes.'
 She reached down to him, and he reached for her, not his real hands because they were tied, but he imagined hands reaching up to her, and she pulled and he drifted up out of his body, and he didn't feel anything anymore. He didn't have to look anymore. He didn't like for Mama or Daddy or Zitka to see him when things like this were happening to his body, but it was okay for [trill]. "We fly, [chirp-chirp], we find [caw] and [warble]." "Yes yes yes!" So they flew. o.o.o.o.o He wasn't tied anymore. He was sitting in a big, dirty room with sunlight struggling through the dirty windows and scared children fighting. His body shook, and he looked for the big people. There was one talking on a 'phone,' but she was far away and her body was relaxed, so [chirp-chirp] slowly stopped shaking. He was so hungry. He looked, and there was a boy sitting next to him, bigger than him, holding his arm. Carefully poking a sharp thing into his arm, making tiny dots of blood, dot dot dot dot dot dot in a pattern like a skull. [chirp-chirp] watched, and after a long time, he realized that it hurt. This big boy was hurting him and making him bleed. "Ssstto'pp." The boy looked at him. Eyes narrowed. Then he gripped [chirp-chirp]'s mouth closed and held him tight while he leaned forward and made dot dot dots of blood on his cheek. [chirp-chirp] fought and bit him; he screamed and hit, [chirp-chirp] screamed back and clawed. Big people dragged him off the boy, and then he was terrified, they were going to tie him again, they were going to lock him in the dark and touch him and hurt him...! He fought for his life. He screamed and went for their eyes, their joints, used every part of him that he had, not just his teeth and claws. The more blood, the better. They couldn't get him onto the bed with the ties, so they dragged him into a different cage and four of them held him down while another one hit him over and over and over and over again with a strap. He screamed, because it really hurt, but he was relieved too because they hadn't tied him alone in the dark and touched the secret parts of him. He kept screaming, and he cried, they were going to hit him until he died. He didn't mind dying, but he wished it didn't hurt so much. Then they tried to take him to the cage with the ties again. He hurt so bad, but he made himself fight and bite anyway, because he hurt so bad now but it would hurt even more when they tied him and he couldn't move. So they took him the other way, and it was outside in the sun, so he stopped fighting. They opened a new cage and dragged him inside, it was hot, they tied a collar around his neck. He didn't care; he'd been wondering for a very long time why This Master wouldn't put a collar on him, but now there was a collar and he didn't like it but it felt right on his neck. It didn't feel right when they pushed a stick hard in his mouth. He choked and tried to scream. He couldn't get up because the stick was so hard in his mouth and it hurt, it hurt when they pinched him so that it felt like they were burning off pieces of his skin, he clawed at the stick but he couldn't get it off. They were laughing at him, Laughing. He wasn't Laughing, though. Finally they pulled the stick away from his mouth and kicked him. He didn't care about being kicked, he was so glad to have the stick out of his mouth. Tears were coming down his face, but he didn't know why because he was so angry, not sad. He couldn't move so well, couldn't stop them from putting a leash on him, but it was okay; they were leaving now, finally no one to hurt him anymore. One of them held his bottom before he left in a way that [chirp-chirp] knew meant "I will come back later to touch you in the secret parts," but he left, too, and [chirp-chirp] was alone. He wiped all the tears and snot and blood off his face. He looked at the leash - it was tied to the wall, but it was made of something soft, not metal. They hadn't even tied him, except for the leash. Maybe they were stupid and thought a soft leash on his neck was enough to tie him. His body hurt so bad, but he made it move, because he had to look for something sharp. He found it, a thing with metal teeth, and he made the teeth eat the leash. It took a long time, but he liked seeing the soft leash shred under the metal teeth, more and more and more, until it finally broke. He almost hurt himself with the metal teeth, but it hit the floor instead of his leg. He stood up, the broken leash thumping gently against his body. He hurt, hurt so bad, he was so hungry, but he felt very awake and a little happy. He was going to get out of here. He looked for all the places where the sunlight came in. There, between the wood pieces near the ground. He stuck his fingers into the light and pulled. It didn't want to move, so he went and found a metal stick and pushed it into the light, and pulled again. This time the wood had to move. He pulled and pulled, and pulled, stopping sometimes to shake out his hands when they hurt too bad. Then the wood finally came loose with a thunk, and he fell, but that was okay. It hurt the places where they'd hit him, but it was okay because he could get up now and crawl into the sunlight. He looked, careful, careful. He could see people moving around in the house, but there was no one outside. He dove into the long grass by the fence and he crawled, it itched and it hurt but he kept crawling, until he was behind the next house. Then he could get up and run, careful, stay hidden, look for the shadows, the long growing things, don't let anyone see...! o.o.o.o.o He found a nest and ate the eggs in it, then he found a bush big enough to hide all of him, and he slept until it was night. Night was good, it was dark, he could walk now without anyone seeing him. He walked until the cars were fast and the buildings were high. He saw some children his size climbing on a smelly thing, they pulled food out of it. They chased him away when he reached for the food, but he found another smelly thing with no children, and he climbed to look inside. There was a flat box, he knew there would be 'pizza' inside, and there was, so he ate it. Then he found a high building with metal stairs on the side of it, and he climbed and climbed until he reached the top. He was hurting so much by then, but he found a box to curl up under, a box that would hide him up here where he was close to the stars. He slept some more. o.o.o.o.o He slept a long, long time; sometimes it was light and sometimes it was dark. Grandpa still didn't come to his dreams for real, but sometimes he was in the dreams anyway, a dream-person instead of a real person. And [big chirp-chirp] and [caw] and [warble] and sometimes [trill]; sometimes This Master, and sometimes That Master. He woke up and he was so scared, then he was so glad it was just a dream. He didn't hurt much anymore, but he was so hungry. He hadn't been hungry for so long, but now he kept getting hungry all the time. He climbed down the metal stairs, and he looked in smelly things for food until his stomach was quiet again. 'When will Master come?' He would come for sure. [chirp-chirp] didn't know when, but it would happen, because Master always found him. He would not fight. Maybe if he was very, very good, Master would believe him that he hadn't run away; big people had taken him away when he didn't want to go. Maybe if he could make Master understand, Master wouldn't tie him and punish him. 'He will tie you and hurt you, anyway. He always does; if he doesn't hurt you for running, he will hurt you for something else.' It hurt too much to think about that, so [chirp-chirp] stopped. He wanted his flockmates. He wanted to curl up with [caw] and [warble], and with [trill]; he wanted to nuzzle them and preen them and feel their warmth and hear their breathing, he wanted to touch them so he would know they were safe. But he couldn't, he was alone. [trill] was dead and he knew [caw] and [warble] were dead now, too. [warble] had said he would come, but he never came, he never came because Master had caught him and killed him before he could reach his flockmates. [chirp-chirp] cried because all his precious little ones were dead, probably [big chirp-chirp] and all the nice big ones who'd loved him were dead, too; everyone was dead and he was alone, Master would catch him and he would be all alone again like in the beginning, and he wanted to die. There were no big people here to stop him now. He would die before Master could-- Someone hurting. Sounds of hitting, sounds of begging and crying. They were not the sounds of hurt little birds, but [chirp-chirp] didn't want any big people to hurt like that, too, so he went to look behind the wall and he saw them. One on the ground, begging and trying to protect himself; three kicking and laughing like it was fun to make someone hurt. They were like Master, and [chirp-chirp] would never fight Master but other people should not be like Master. It was wrong, he was so angry, he ran to them and he BIT. His teeth and claws were not sharp anymore, This Master had stolen them even though That Master had given them to him, but he still sank his teeth in and yanked like he remembered. There wasn't as much blood, but he could still taste it in his mouth. The bad people were screaming, they were hitting him and trying to slash at him with a shiny claw of their own, but he dodged and whirled and kept biting and clawing. He grabbed a piece of sharp metal from the ground and that was an even better claw. Then all of a sudden they ran away, and while he stood there feeling the blood on him, he realized he was Laughing. Laughing and Laughing, he couldn't stop, but he wanted to Laugh this time. The big person on the ground was scared, but he wasn't being hurt anymore. [chirp-chirp] looked at him, and he tried to scramble away. 'He's scared of me.' That was okay. He'd gotten the bad people to stop hitting, that was what he wanted, so it was good. To be continued.... A/N: I keep FORGETTING about Carrie, argh! Finally remembered to include her in this chapter, at least.

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The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted sequence: General Foster Care - Part 11 (rough draft)
 A/N: Sorry for the short chapter again - these perspective shifts are awkward lengths. o.o.o He went up to the top of a high building to fly off it, but then he was surprised because there was already someone else there. A big person, sort of, bigger than him but not much. She was standing at the edge, looking down, and he knew she wanted to fly down there, too, and he was afraid. Not for himself, but for her. Other people shouldn't fly down, only him. He went and held her hand. She stared at him. He didn't know what to say, with human words or with bird words. "Come be safe," he said with his body. He tugged, and she followed like she was asleep. She had marks on her arms like pictures, and little shiny things in her face. He touched the one on her nose, and her mouth, and chirped, "Pretty." She started to cry, so he hugged her, and she hugged him back so tight it almost hurt, but that was okay. If she was hugging him, she wasn't flying down. He chirred and petted her. Then a door burst open and a woman ran out, and the not-so-big person stood up and they shouted at each other, and [chirp-chirp] covered his ears. But then they were both crying and hugging each other, and he knew they were okay now. The bigger one wouldn't let the smaller one fly down, so he went away. It was dark between the buildings, and five big children were trying to take treasures away from two smaller children. [chirp-chirp] LAUGHED as he ran to them, and the big ones ran. The little ones were scared scared scared of him, so he stopped Laughing and Smiling. The girl who was bigger was covering the boy who was smaller, like [chirp-chirp] did for his own little ones when they were alive. "I protect him from you!" her body screamed at him. "Safe gentle peace calm," [chirp-chirp] crooned at her. He looked at them, and they were hungry and scared and confused. He went to look for food for them, and when he brought it back, they weren't there anymore, but they were close, hiding. The boy was falling asleep in the girl's arms. "For you," [chirp-chirp] offered. The girl's nose wrinkled up, but the boy stared at the food in his hand. Then he grabbed it. The girl tried to tell him not to eat it, [chirp-chirp] didn't know why. "You, him, very hungry." The boy finally ate it anyway, and the girl made a not-happy sigh and ate a little, too, even though she didn't like it. "Good," [chirp-chirp] crooned. He stayed and he guarded the little ones and found food for them and let them sleep, until big people came. Not bad big people, tired ones with blue feathers. The girl said "No no no stay away (desperate please)!" but the boy cried and clung. The big people picked him up and coaxed the girl to them. [chirp-chirp] was hiding, he didn't want big people who weren't Master to have him anymore, but they would be gentle to the little ones. They had already given the boy water, and he was drinking, gulping. 'Not my little ones, not my flock,' [chirp-chirp] thought sadly, and went away. He couldn't climb up and fly down, because there were SO MANY hurting people, big ones and little ones. When he wasn't sleeping or looking for food for his own stomach, he was finding hurting or scared people. There was one lying in a dark corner with blood on him and metal sticking out of his chest, and [chirp-chirp] thought he was dead, but there was breath coming out of his mouth. Just a little bit, but that meant he wasn't dead yet. [chirp-chirp] went and found a big person with those particular blue feathers, one whose body said "concern" instead of "gleeful hungry," and he threw rocks at him until the man chased him. [chirp-chirp] ran to the dark corner and ran past it, and when he looked back, the blue man had stopped to bend over the bleeding one and was saying "Dismay worry urgent!" The bleeding one was safe now, so [chirp-chirp] looked for the next one. Night and day and night and day. He ate food out of the smelly things, or stole food when big people weren't guarding it. Sometimes he gave the food to children who were smaller than him and dirty and looked hungrier than he was. He slept in dark, high places. He told himself stories that he remembered were [caw] and [warble]'s favorites. He bit and clawed people who hurt other people. When people tried to hurt him, he Laughed and Laughed, and they always got scared and ran away. "Joker," a lot of them would say. Maybe that meant "Laugh" in human words. But then one night, when he Laughed, the bad people didn't run away. "That's him." They grabbed him, and they weren't trying to hurt him, even though they did hurt him by holding him so tight and tying him. They were trying to take him. They were taking him to give to someone, and he was so afraid. "No! No!" he cried, and then remembered to say it in human words. "Nnnoo! Nnnoo!" They only hit him and put him in a 'car.' He was so scared and he couldn't escape, so he looked for the Spot. "[chirp-chirp], when will you come be with us?" [warble] asked. They were curled together in the air, their whole flock, and [big chirp-chirp] and Grandpa and Dance and Busy and Calm and Titus and everyone petting them and guarding them, and Mama and Daddy and Zitka and Becca and everyone waiting, waiting for [chirp-chirp] because he was the last one. 
"Soon, I think. I hope soon."
 "Miss you, [chirp-chirp]," [caw] said. 
"Miss you so much so much so much."
 "Hurt them when they kill you," [trill] said. 
"I will."
 o.o.o.o.o He wasn't in the car anymore. He opened his eyes and he was on the ground, not even tied, and there were big people all around him, talking, talking. There were shiny purple feet-coverings in front of him. He looked up the purple legs and to the white face-- He pressed his face to the ground again and covered his head and quivered. He didn't want to look. He didn't want to know who that person was or where he was, he just wanted to die and be with his flock. Hands grabbed him, forced him up, fingers under his chin and squeezing his cheeks so he couldn't look away. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. White face, red lips, that SMILE. And the eyes. He knew those eyes. "Hello, Master," he tried to chirp, but it came out as a whimper. Master was pleased. Master scrubbed rough fingers through his head-feathers and touched his neck and turned him this way and that to look at him, all the while talking words that [chirp-chirp] didn't even want to try to hear. All he knew was that Master was happy to see him again, and maybe, maybe, maybe he would not hurt him. Or maybe later, but not now. o.o.o.o.o [chirp-chirp] sat in a cage. There was no top on it, but the bars were on all his sides. He could maybe try to get out, but he didn't want to. He knew better. If he climbed out, Master would tie him and hurt him. Master hadn't hit him yet. Master hadn't tied him yet, he'd even taken the collar off. Well, not Master; someone else, two other big people who didn't like [chirp-chirp], but they were Master's flock and did what he told them. They took all the feathers off of [chirp-chirp]'s body, but instead of leaving him bare and cold, they put new feathers on him, purple ones that looked like Master's. Master was so happy, in that way of his that was hungry and cruel at the same time. He'd patted [chirp-chirp]'s head without hurting him, and now he kept calling him 'Junior' instead of 'Sweet Bird' or 'John.' A new name. New feathers. A new game. [chirp-chirp] was so tired. He didn't want to play another game, he just wanted to die. He sat in the cage and there were toys in here with him, but he didn't want to play with them. He sat there and thought of his dead flockmates, and he watched Master. He had been wrong. He had been so, so wrong; [caw] had been right. This Master was...not Master. This Master was Batman, but his eyes and his face and his hands and his body had always, always, always been kind. Even when he was angry, he hadn't hurt [chirp-chirp] or his little ones. [chirp-chirp] did not understand how Batman was not Master anymore, but that was what had happened. Master was two people now, and Batman...'Bruce'...was the good one, and this evil Smiling white purple man was the bad one. The real Master. 'Daddy,' [chirp-chirp] thought, and this time he meant Bruce. [warble] had been right, too. 'I want Daddy.' He wanted to be held and sung to, he wanted gentle hands to put good food on his 'plate' and tuck warm feathers over him and tell him stories even if he didn't understand them. [caw] and [warble] always explained the stories to him later. 'Save me.' Stupid [chirp-chirp]. No one would save him. Master always made sure no one ever could. Master never let him die, either, so this was forever. [chirp-chirp] lay down on his back, arms open, chin lifted. "Helpless. Vulnerable. Do whatever you want to me, because I can never, ever stop you or escape." He drifted away. He didn't feel like talking, so he let his flock silently preen him. 'I want to go home.' Drifting here with his dead loved ones was as close to home as he was ever going to get. To be continued....
Medli45 (breezy-cheezy) did some Wing AU sketches for the foster care route! First one's Jay rescuing Peter, second one's Tim & Jackie. X3 Posted with permission!

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

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!"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Unused scene: Dog Training (rough draft)
 A/N: So, I don't know if I can work Sad Poop into the main story, and I didn't get to do anything with her in the foster care route, so this one-shot is basically just me giving Sad Poop the chance she ought to have had. I threw in Ace because this fic doesn't match anything else in the TBWSverse anyway, so why not. XD o.o.o Alfred stared at the message on his phone for a moment. Then he closed his eyes in fond exasperation before finishing his preparations for the day and heading out of his suite. The first stop was the Batcave, where he let the cow out to graze and then went to look at the dog crate Bruce had informed him about. Inside, lying near the back with her chin resting on her front paws, was a small, dirty, pathetic-looking creature that smelled like her own waste. As soon as she realized she was being watched, she struggled to her feet and started barking frantically. "Now, calm down. No one is going to hurt you, young miss." He withdrew, leaving the crate door open and a bit of food sitting invitingly on the floor nearby. He puttered around the cave, finding things to dust or tidy, until he noticed the animal cautiously venturing out, swallowing the food, then looking around, trembling. Alfred continued his work, checking on the dog out of the corner of his eye. When she hesitantly started to explore, he readied a bath, then approached her with soft footsteps and more food in his palm. She squirmed unhappily when he picked her up, but didn't fight too hard. When he set her in the warm bath, she stood still, trembling. A minute later, there was a bird-like cry of pleased surprise at the threshold of the bathroom, and Alfred had to be quick to prevent the dog from leaping out of the little tub. "Found them~!" Dick announced triumphantly. John and Jack peered curiously around him; Peter was already galloping into the bathroom, grabbily checking over his dog as he babbled to her in a mixture of bird language and broken English. "Master Peter, your young miss needs to finish her bath." "Here, Petey," Dick offered, crouching down beside him, "I'll hold her, and you pet her and distract her from the bath, okay?" By the time the dog was lifted out of the tub, she looked a little traumatized but was now clean and snowy white, her fur soft and fluffy once she had been dried off. Peter refused to move and just sat there on the bathroom floor, holding her and petting her and chatting to her and sharing his breakfast with her from the plate Alfred had set down next to him at one point. At last, the little dog climbed to her feet and started licking Peter's neck and cheeks, no longer shivering. He giggled and stood up as well, calling to her with a bird sound as he galloped out of the bathroom. Alarmed, she raced to catch up. Upstairs, the rest of the family gathered around to investigate the newest addition to the household. She shied away from all the stroking hands and jumped when Ace bumped her with his nose. She slunk to hide behind Peter, who screeched and waved his arms to fend everyone off. "Okay, okay, we'll keep our distance," Duke acquiesced. "What are you going to name your dog, Peter?" Peter cocked his head. "What's her name?" 
"Sad Poop."
 Everyone burst into laughter. "Did he say 'Sad Poop'...?!" "Her name, Peter," Dick chuckled. "What are you going to call her?" "Sad Poop!" the boy repeated impatiently. "I'm not calling her that," Bruce said at once, echoed by Alfred's "Heavens, no." "It's an entirely unsuitable name for an animal!" Damian insisted. Cassandra and the other two birds, uninterested in the conversation, were cooing at the dog, trying to convince her they weren't dangerous, while Duke caressed Ace so that the bigger dog wouldn't get jealous of all the attention being paid to the newcomer. "We could just call her S.P.," Tim suggested. "A dog should have a good name," Damian went on. "She shall be called Anastasia." "Damian, you can't name other people's dogs," Tim said in annoyance. Damian made a point to call the dog Anastasia for about a week, but eventually realized that it was a modification of the original name that had really stuck. "Espy, sit." Bruce loved dogs, but he hated training them. He couldn't expect Peter to do most of it, though, and Alfred had been busier than usual this week, so here he was in the kitchen on a Saturday morning, trying to get two uncooperative animals to obey him. "Sit. Espy, sit." She simply edged away a few steps as she stared up at him. "If you don't sit, you do not get a treat. Ace, come here!" The dog, investigating the floor under a chair where one of the birds had dropped a bit of breakfast earlier, acted like he hadn't even heard. "Ace, come! I have food here, Alfred already swept up the food you're smelling." Still no response. Exasperated, Bruce stepped toward the entryway and called out, "Titus! Titus, come!" A minute later, the sound of a jingling collar approached, and the Great Dane loped into the kitchen. "Good boy." Bruce slipped him a treat. "Come here, Titus. Over here." He pointed, and the dog ambled over to the spot. "Good. Okay." He checked to see if the other dogs were watching. Espy was from the corner she'd backed into; Ace still was not. "ACE!" The dog flinched, then belatedly glanced over, ready at any moment to return to foraging. "Titus, sit," Bruce said hurriedly, while he still had Ace's attention. Titus sat on the floor. "Good boy! Good boy! Titus sat down when I asked, so Titus gets a treat. Good boy! Good sitting!" Ace was now staring, his head raised and his ears perked in interest. "Ace, your turn! Sit!" The German Shepherd bounded over to him and hopped eagerly. "No, Ace, sit. Sit!" The dog pranced, trying to get at the treat. "No." Bruce had to push him away with his knee. "You don't get this until you sit." It wasn't until he lost his patience and bellowed, "NO, ACE, BAD DOG," that the German Shepherd finally froze, staring. Titus whined a little and hunched down, and Espy started letting out terrified little barks. "Oh, for God's sake-- Espy. Ssshh, it's okay. I'm not angry," he crooned. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's try this again. Titus, come. Heel." He made a circuit around the kitchen with Titus obediently pacing at his side. Espy hurriedly scrambled out of their way when they got close, but she and Ace were both staring intently. "Good," Bruce said when they'd circled back. "Good boy, Titus." He fed the dog a treat. "Now, Titus, sit." The dog sat, and was once more rewarded. Ace rushed forward and was rebuffed again. He stared at Bruce's knee in exasperation. "Okay," Bruce said, forcing himself to be patient and speak very clearly. "Let's try this again. Ace, sit." Ace stared at him like he was trying very hard to read Bruce's mind. It was Peter who hurried up and plopped onto his bottom on the floor, then stared up at Bruce expectantly. Bruce stared back, nonplussed. "Ggoo'd bboy!" Peter prompted, raising an arm to make a grabby hand for the treat he was clearly expecting. "Peter-- Peter, this is for the dogs." "GGOOD BBOY! Ssi'tt!" Bruce facepalmed. "For crying out loud...." A few minutes later, Dick wandered into the kitchen, wondering why Peter had been gone for so long, then stopped and stared. He broke into a grin and pulled out his phone to start filming. "Ace, sit." The German Shepherd waaaarily lowered, and the instant his butt touched the floor, Bruce hurriedly fed him a treat before he could immediately bounce back up again like he tended to keep doing. "Espy, sit." The dog didn't move, but Peter pushed her down into more or less the right position, and Bruce gave her a treat, hoping she would eventually get the idea. "Titus, sit," he said, just because it didn't seem fair to leave him out even though the Great Dane didn't need the lesson. "Good boy. Peter, sign 'president.'" The boy obeyed immediately, delighted at both getting to try out the new ASL vocabulary Bruce had been taking the opportunity to teach him, and at the grape he was given as a reward. "Good boy." "Good boy," Peter echoed with his hands. "All right, again. Ace, sit...!"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate ending: Dad Tim - Part 1 (rough draft)
 Red Robin was the first one back to the cave. He got off his bike, feeling like a robot. Jack ran up to him, twittering anxiously about his brothers. "[chirp-chirp]?! [caw]?! [chirp-chirp]?!" "He's dead," Tim said in a flat robot voice. There was a long pause, then he realized he should probably be more tactful. "Jack. I'm sorry. I lied to you. Peter's far away with Jason, and none of us are ever going to see John again." Too bad robots didn't know how to be tactful. "...Brothers dead?" Jack signed shakily. "Yeah." The boy went very quiet. Tim trudged over to sit in a chair by the computer. He had the idea to work on something, like...old case files, or...something...but he just sat there. Like a deactivated robot. Jack climbed into his lap. Tim managed to rest one arm over him, but not the other. The child did not cry for his lost brother, just like Tim hadn't wept a single drop all night, because his little counterpart was a robot just like him. "I wwan't [chirp-chirp] [caw]," Jack said sadly. "You can't have them." "Yess...ggoo'bye." Tim slowly put his other arm around the boy and squeezed. Duke, who had been sitting uncertainly at his usual station, cleared his throat and said in a voice that was still rough, "Alfred left when...when the video cut out." "Yeah. It's against butler rules to grieve in front of the Family," Tim said in his robot voice. "...God." After a moment, Duke leaned his elbows on the desk and rested his face in his hands. It was quiet in the cave for a long time, then Duke suddenly sobbed aloud. He hurried upstairs as if he thought he had some reason to hide his tears from Tim, the robot boy who couldn't cry for his exploded nine-year-old brother. "...[chirp-chirp]." Tim said nothing. Half a minute later, "[chirp-chirp]." About the fifth time Jack called hopelessly for his brother, Tim said in his robot voice, "Shut up." "[chirp-chirp]." "He's not coming. He's dead." "[chirp-chirp]! [chirp-chirp]! [chirp-chirp]!" Tim shoved the boy out of his lap and made it halfway up the stairs before the tiny fraction of his brain that was still human protested. No matter how he felt, he couldn't just leave a grieving six-year-old child alone in the Batcave. He descended again and took Jack's hand. "Come on. I'm taking you to bed." "[chirp-chirp]...[chirp-chirp]...." Tim half-dragged his little brother to his room, that huge empty room that had been meant for three birds and now had only one. He hoisted Jack onto the bed and flopped the covers over him. "Go to sleep." Jack wouldn't stop clinging to him, and finally did burst into tears. Tim shed most of his Red Robin suit and lay down on the bed. He thought he wouldn't be able to sleep, but after holding Jack and watching scenarios play through his head for a while, every alternate route that the family should have taken to bring John home alive, his robot brain eventually shut down. o.o.o.o.o He woke up to chirping. Because Jack was pressed against the window, calling for his dead brothers. Tim got out of bed and went to pee and then headed for the coffee machine in the kitchen. The room was filled with mounds of food, all exquisitely presented in a way Alfred usually only bothered with for formal meals or important guests; the butler himself had half the cookware and appliances displaced so he could scour every nook and cranny. Keeping busy. Too busy to think. Tim knew the feeling. Neither of them exchanged a word or even a glance, though Alfred set a heaping plate on the table for Jack, who had been forlornly following his counterpart. Alfred did speak up grimly, once Tim had gotten his coffee and was about to leave again. "I am certain that you don't intend to leave this room without having breakfast, Master Timothy." "I'm not hungry." "Sit down and eat," Alfred snapped. Tim sat. He was too tired - not physically, or even mentally, but tired all the same - to serve himself properly, so he just grabbed the closest dish, which happened to be filled with pancakes, and dragged it close to start mechanically chewing on the contents. After about two minutes of silence, Jack, who was only picking at his food, started to cry softly. Tim could not bring himself to care. Alfred came over and rested a hand on the child's head and let Jack sob into his jacket. "I'm finished eating," Tim said, and left with his coffee. He didn't see Bruce or Dick all day. He didn't see much of anyone all day, since he was holed up in his room, making arrangements for the home he shouldn't have procrastinated on setting up. At one point, he realized that Jack was curled up at his feet, and he wondered how long the child had been there. o.o.o.o.o Almost everyone went on solo patrol that night. At one point, Nightwing and Robin had such an explosive fight that Red Robin simply switched off his comm, not even knowing or caring what the fight was about. When he came back to the cave, he found that Nightwing had left Gotham altogether. Only Robin was back, saying something awkwardly comforting to Jack. Red Robin stared at the Batcomputer, where a stuffed elephant and dog were perched near Bruce's usual screen. "I'm afraid to move them," Duke murmured. It was as if the sight of those toys, now symbols of the children they had belonged to, finally, finally unlocked something in Tim's heart. He stripped off his suit in a daze, and it was while he was trying to shower that the tears came at last. He tried to finish showering even as he cried, but ended up crouched on the tiled floor, covering his face and sobbing. "Johnny...." At least Peter was safe, even if Jason would probably never let him within ten miles of the manor again. John, though...that innocent, suffering little boy they'd all tried their best to help, that child they'd all failed to help, who'd died so selflessly and fearlessly.... Even when Tim tried to forcibly stop thinking about that terrible night, other memories came pouring in: John petting the cat so gently, John struggling to wield a spoon on his meal, John playing with his brothers in the warm sunlight, John watching the books that were read to him, John curled up with his siblings.... 'I'm never going to see him again. He's never going to get better. He's never going to realize he's free. I'll never see him again, Jack will never stop missing him, we'll never get to teach him all the things he would have loved to learn, he's gone, he's gone...!' The water shut off and towels were draped over him before Cassandra crouched at his side and embraced him, crooning. They wept together for a long time, until Tim finally started shivering. "I'm...okay now," he sniffed, trying to wipe his face. "I...let me get dressed, and I'll...I...." She stroked his cheek and then left. When he came trudging out, now wearing pajamas, he felt hollow and drained, but no longer heartless. Or, less like he had no heart at all and more like his heart had been scooped out of his chest. "Jack...Jackie...?" The little boy ran to him, and Tim hugged him tightly. His little counterpart, his baby brother, his soon-to-be-son suddenly seemed precious, the last chance he had to do things right this time. A person with needs he could actually meet, or at least attempt to meet. He would not take Jack for granted like he had before, when they'd all just assumed the three rescued birds would be theirs forever. "Hey, Jack," Tim whispered at last. "Let's go get ready for bed, okay?" "[chirp-chirp]...[caw]...." "I'm...I'm sorry, Jack. It's just you and me." 
"Brothers dead."
 "Just...just one of them. Peter's still alive, he's just far away. I can...maybe I can call Jason, maybe leave a message, maybe I can get him to let you talk to--" He broke off. He'd promised Jack before that he would be reunited with his brothers, and that had never happened. Tim had broken his promise. He'd better not make anymore promises he might not be able to keep. 
"Brothers dead."
 "I'm so sorry, Jack," Tim whispered. The little boy was a bit smelly; apparently no one had thought to bathe him since That Night. Tim helped Jack into the shower, wishing he knew more of what he was doing, trying not to look at all those scars because he couldn't bear the sight of them, of how much pain his child had suffered. He found some pajamas that fit, and when Jack didn't want any of the books in his room, Tim read to him from a Philip K. Dick anthology until the child fell asleep. Tim did some more work on his laptop and then eventually curled himself around the child to try to rest. He woke up later from a nightmare, which deeply upset Jack, and they both went down the hall to Dick's bed. It was empty, but they both still slept easier there. o.o.o.o.o Tim put Red Robin on hold for a few days, throwing himself into the work of rebuilding his civilian life. He pushed the workers hard to get his home ready, and made sure Jack's custody paperwork was finalized as soon as possible. He did his WE work remotely, not feeling up to facing not-sad people right now. He wasn't up to facing depressed and grieving people, either; every time he got a chance, he took Jack out of the manor so they could spend the day at the park or the library or wherever. The idea was that Jack could play while Tim got work done, but sometime during the third day, Tim looked up and realized that Jack had never actually left his side. Was currently, in fact, curled up half on his lap, Bear tucked under the arm holding his phone as he used his other hand to slowly page through photos of his lost brothers. "Oh my God." He'd barely even started, and he was already an awful parent. He couldn't just lose himself in work anymore, he had to make sure the tiny person he was now responsible for had his needs met first. "Ummmm...Jack, are you hungry?" "[chirp-chirp]. [caw]." ".....I'm gonna buy you a-- whatever that guy is selling, okay?" "Ddead. Ggoo'bye." Tim, not knowing what to say, stuffed his laptop into its case and walked over to the tiny mobile food stand slowly making its way around the park. "Hi. Could I have...?" Tim stared at the handwritten menu, then down at his little self/brother/son. "What kind of tacos do you want, Jack?" The little boy just stared up at him with huge puppy eyes. Tim stared back, feeling a strange twinge his heart, realizing for the first time exactly why Jack had so many people wrapped around his little finger. Unfortunately, puppy eyes were not an answer to the question he'd asked. "Do you want...chicken, or...bean and cheese...?" "...Sad," Jack finally signed. Which wrung Tim's heart even more, but was also not an answer. Tim gave up and bought six tacos of various kinds to split between the two of them. He ended up feeling full after only one, and Jack slowly picked his way through half a taco before abandoning the rest to play with Bear in quiet bird language. Tim watched him for a minute, feeling at a loss. "Help," he whispered to no one in particular. o.o.o.o.o It was very subdued the day they moved out. Bruce had entirely vanished, and Tim didn't blame him. Everyone else who remained hugged Jack for a long time, whispered how much they loved him, and patted Tim's shoulder, but ultimately didn't say much. Damian, weirdly, just held onto Tim's hand for a long moment without looking at him or saying anything, before abruptly marching away. Tim didn't have much to pack, since his home was already fully-equipped and most of the things he cared enough about to keep close were in digital form. Most of the room in his car was taken up by Jack's things, clothes and toys as well as various bags and boxes of stuff, mostly packed by Alfred, that scared Tim a little because he hadn't even realized that childrearing required things like that. What else would he forget or be ignorant of when it came to raising a six-year-old safely to adulthood? 'Oh my God. I'm going to be solely responsible for him for twelve more years, we're going to be together all the time, what am I going to do when he becomes a teenager, what do I--?' He cut off that train of thought before he could start panicking. Thinking about the future was too overwhelming; he had to just concentrate on making sure his child was safe and fed and healthy and settled into their new home. To be continued.... A/N: It's been a while! My house has been keeping me busy; I dearly love living on my own, but it comes with responsibilities (housework! cooking!) I didn't have while living as a depressed hermit in my parents' house. X''D I've been making my way through more and more of the papers and crap that piled up over those years of depression, getting excited because, aside from a box of old personal papers to shred, I'm down to the dregs of the tangible stuff. (Next up is the mountain of digital backlog. X''D) Anyway, although I still haven't made any progress drafting the main story, I did finally draw a blueprint of my headcanon of Wayne Manor (which means yet more stuff to fix, since it makes an actual difference knowing the specific layout of the house!), and also only have one more page of notes to type before I can start organizing. Still procrastinating just as much as ever on the prequel, gosh dang it. I really hate that story. *facepalm* Timmy and baby Timmy are much more fun to write (even if I did forget in the first draft that they'd both be freshly traumatized from John's death and Peter's departure), so here's Part 1 of the sequel to the Bad Ending!

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlDeleted sequence: The original version of "John vs. Bruce" (rough draft) 
A/N: I wrote this a looooooong time ago (for example, the F-bomb here was originally going to be the only one in this fic X''''D), but the more I progressed on the story properly, the more outdated this version of the "John vs. Bruce" story arc became. In the end, I've decided to only save the finale for the real story, but I also liked everything that came before that, so I'm posting it as a deleted sequence.
 o.o.o With no change of expression, John punched him hard in the face. Bruce fell back, gasping in shock. John had immediately taken a step or two back, staring, wide-eyed, his breathing quickening, clutching his hands together as his shoulders hunched. "Why did you--?" He knew why. He'd been through this before, with Jason and, to a lesser extent, Damian. 'Damn.' The next few days, possibly weeks, were not going to be enjoyable. Bruce took a deep breath. "Everything's fine. I know why you did that, I'm not angry, I'm not going to hurt you or punish you. You're safe." John stared at him. Bruce held out a hand. "Come on. Let's go see what Alfred's made for lunch." John flew at him, but Bruce was ready this time. Two seconds later, he had the boy in a restraining hold. "John," he said to the struggling child, "I'm not angry, but I can't let you hurt people. I'm not going to punish you, but I will not let you hurt people. You're not in trouble. You're safe. Do not hurt people." "Hhhhh.... Hhhhate yyoouuu!" John jerked his head sharply backward, but Bruce was already keeping his face out of the way, and the boy's head thudded mostly harmlessly against the man's shoulder. "Hhhhh-- Hhhhhittt mme! Hhhhhurttt mme!" "No. I will not. I will never hit you." "Hhhhh! HAAAAHHHH!" The screaming and struggling went on for ten exhausting minutes. A concerned Alfred showed up at one point, but he understood after only an exchange of silent glances with Bruce. "Master John, whenever you are ready, your lunch is waiting for you," the butler said calmly, and left. At last, the boy gave up. He hung in Bruce's arms for a while, panting, then raised his head to glare out of the corner of his eye. "I...hhhurt yyou." "Yes, you did. I know you're scared. I know the man who abused you made you think that you will never be safe. I know you're trying to hurt me so that you'll find out how much I will hurt you when I lose control, but I'm telling you right now, John, things are different here. I will never, ever strike a child, no matter how angry I get. Do you understand? I will never hit you, John. I will never chain you or forbid you to speak or try to alter your mind. I love you." John seemed to shut down. It was like a curtain drew down over his face and eyes, and he said demurely, "Llllove yyou, Ddaddy." Bruce knew this wasn't over, but John seemed to have given up for now, so he nodded and cautiously released the boy. John rubbed at his wrists. "Hhhurtss," he said dolefully. Bruce gently took the boy's hands, not commenting on the fact that they started to tremble a little in his grasp. "I'm sorry I had to restrain you, John. I know I didn't squeeze too hard." He had been careful not to, knowing how his own strength compared to the child's. "It doesn't look like it's going to bruise, but I'll keep an eye on it, just in case." He gently rested his hand on the side of John's face. "How are you feeling?" 
"I'm okay."
 "Are you scared, or angry? Do you want to go lie down for a while, or eat lunch, or play, or read?" 
"I love you, Dad. I'm hungry."
 "All right. Let's go eat, then." Bruce stayed on guard. He was ready for it when, the next day, John bounced up to hug him, then suddenly tried to bite him. A brief struggle ensued, and then John was screaming in a restraining hold again. He shrieked and cried and struggled, and when he finally stopped, he was shaking like a leaf. "I told you yesterday, John. I know why you're doing this. I wish you'd stop, and I won't let you hurt anyone, but I'm not angry and I'm not going to punish you." "HHHATE YYOOOUU!" "I'm sorry you feel that way. I don't hate you; I love you very much." "HAAAAHHH!" He was sobbing again. The next few days were awful. John broke things, tore things, threw things, shouted terrible things at his father. Bruce and Alfred pointedly overlooked most of the bad behavior and didn't clean up anything unless John had calmed down and was helping them. They both told John they loved him multiple times a day. Then John managed to interfere with the comm system during patrol one night, and Batman and Robin nearly died due to the tampering. "I'll teach that little brat what happens to--!" "No. I will handle this. Stay at one of the safe houses tonight; I'm going to have enough trouble with John as it is, without you riled up and burning for revenge." "He could have gotten us killed!" "It won't happen again." Bruce deliberately calmed himself on the drive home. He was deeply upset about Damian's wholly unnecessary brush with death, and he was planning to try a new tactic, but he had to be devoid of anger first. John was waiting in the Cave. When Bruce jumped out of the Batmobile and stormed toward him, the boy backed away, signing quickly, "Hello Batman Dad I used the computer I'm a bad boy, I'm a bad boy." Bruce shoved back the cowl as he continued to advance, since keeping it on would have been too much. "YOU KNOW TO NEVER TOUCH THE COMPUTER WHEN WE'RE ON PATROL," he thundered. "YOU KNOW THAT, JOHN." It was tricky to pour so much fury into his voice and body language without letting the actual emotion rise up with it, but he'd practiced this sort of thing since long before he became Batman. If it was necessary for John to see him 'lose' control, then he would put on whatever act his son needed, but he refused to genuinely lose control and reaffirm the boy's fears. John backed away from him until his back hit a wall. He slid down it until he reached the floor, looking incredibly tiny as he stared up at the raging man looming over him. "YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN ME KILLED. YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN ROBIN KILLED. IT IS UNACCEPTABLE TO PUT ANY OF YOUR SIBLINGS IN SUCH DANGER, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, JOHN?" John kept staring up at him, completely still. "THIS NEEDS TO STOP. THIS NEEDS TO STOP, RIGHT NOW. NO MORE HITTING, NO MORE TANTRUMS, NO MORE SABOTAGE. FROM NOW ON, YOU WILL BEHAVE." The child's hands were shaking badly, but he finally managed to form a response: "Fuck you." Bruce stared down at him. It was clear that John was terrified, but there was also defiance in his expression. His chin was lifted even as he looked like he expected a fist to come crashing into him at any moment. "...John." 
"You're angry?"
 "Yes, I am very angry with you." 
"You'll hit me now?"
 "No. But you did cross a line and you are going to be punished. You're grounded. No school or friends or anything fun for three days. You are going to study and work, that's it." 
"Hit me, put me in a cage. I'm bad. I hurt Robin."
 "I will never hit you or imprison you. You're a good boy who's frightened and angry right now. I expect you to never do anything to hurt any of your siblings ever again." John burst into tears. "I'm bad, I hurt Robin.... I'm bad...." Bruce hauled him to his feet. John panicked and resisted briefly, but stopped when he found that he was being marched out of the cave rather than beaten. Bruce put him in his room and took all the toys and games away and shut the door, then went to his own room to bury his face in his arms for a while. John was very quiet during his grounding. He avoided Bruce and worked hard and cried a lot, softly, refusing comfort even from Alfred. He was quiet the whole day afterward, even when he was allowed to play and go to school again. Then came the afternoon when Bruce walked into his room and found all his old books on the floor. The picture books that his mother and father had read to him as a child. They were on the floor and lying open and battered, and John was slowly, pointedly ripping another page in half, staring right at Bruce as he did so. "STOP!" He might have shoved harder than he'd meant to. He picked up the book like it was an injured child and stared at it, aghast, fingertips hovering over the torn edge, a lump rising in his throat. 'Mother touched these books. Father touched these books. They're ruined. He ruined--' He whirled and seized the boy. He wasn't...quite sure what happened next, but now he had John pinned to the bed, he could feel fury surging through his veins like fire, John was shaking and whimpering and gasping for breath as he gazed up at Bruce with terror and defiance and resignation in his eyes. Bruce made himself loosen the grip he had on John's wrists. 'Too tight. It'll probably bruise. I hurt him.' He replayed his memory. He hadn't done anything to John other than grab him and force him down, and use too much pressure when holding him...but that was bad enough. John couldn't say much with his hands immobilized, but it was plain to read on his face: "I knew it. Here it comes. I knew it." Bruce forced himself to let go. John stared at him. Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but then John darted his fingers at the man's eyes, and Bruce had to catch him and pin him down again. "STOP." John's eyes moved upward to fix on the ceiling. He waited. "I am not going to beat you, but God DAMN it, John, you hurt me! You knew how much this would hurt me!" Tears began to slip from the boy's eyes, but he still lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. "How long is this going to go on?! How far are you going to go?! You're really aiming for my heart, aren't you!" "crow" Bruce gave him a brief shake. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. "NO. NO. You are not a bird, you are a boy, a vicious, clever little boy who knows exactly how to--" He clenched his teeth together to force himself to stop talking. He made himself back away, step by step, and started to calm his breathing. John lay where he'd been left for a minute without moving. Finally he sat up and looked at Bruce. "...Angry?" "You're damn right I'm angry." Maybe, the last time, John had been able to tell. Maybe he'd sensed that Bruce had only been faking before. 
"I'm sorry."
 "No, you're not." "I'm not sorry." He hunched apprehensively as he signed. "Are you trying to hurt me, John?" 
"Yes."
 "Do you hate me, John?" 
"...No."
 "Are you trying to hurt me because you're afraid of me?" 
"...."
 "Well, you're succeeding. You are hurting me, and maybe you should be afraid of me, too." Bruce moved toward him again. John started to scrabble away, now terrified and not defiant anymore when the man approached, but all Bruce did was gently lift his arms to inspect his wrists. "Damn it, these are going to bruise. I hurt you, you were right about me all along.... If you contact the right people, they can take you out of my house and I'll have no right to stop them." John started to cry. "Do you want to keep living with me, even though you've feared me from day one and I'm the same man as the one who tortured you? Or do you want to go live with someone else, someone more well-adjusted than me who knows what the hell to do with abused children?" 
"I want to die."
 "No, Johnny.... No, no, don't say things like that...." Bruce gathered the boy into his arms to hug him. John tried to pull his shirt off; Bruce set a hand on his chest to stop him. 
"My heart hurts!"
 "I know. I know, chum. Mine does, too." o.o.o.o.o Bruce woke up in the middle of the night to a sharp pain in his side, and the bloodied blade glinted in the light from the window as John raised it to strike again. "JOHN." Bruce limped his way toward Alfred's room near the kitchen, bellowing for his butler as he kept one hand pressed against the bleeding wound in his side and one hand clamped, probably too firmly, around his screaming son's wrists. Alfred blanched when he opened the door. "Good Lord." "He stabbed me!" Alfred took charge at once, herding his two deeply upset charges to the kitchen, where he could access running water and a first aid kit. "YOU stay put!" Bruce stormed, swinging John around and shoving him down into a corner, just barely managing to temper his strength. John crouched there, hissing, too upset to even sign. "You stabbed me! Even Jason at his worst never tried to kill me!" Before the crowbar, obviously. "Master Bruce, if you will sit down here so I can stitch you up," Alfred said firmly, steering him away. "What do I do with him, Alfred! I can't spank him, I can't deny him food, grounding OBVIOUSLY has no effect--" "Master Bruce, be quiet. Master John, stop that uncivilized noise at once." Both of the young masters shut up. Bruce sat seething, looking anywhere but at his son; John, when Alfred harshly forbid him from carving lines into his own skin with his fingernails, settled for carving lines into the wall instead. As soon as Alfred had shut the first aid kit with a snap, he marched toward the corner with the iciest expression Bruce had ever seen on his face. "Master John, if you would be so kind, pray tell me exactly what you thought you were doing tonight?" John stared up at him in horror, looking struck to the heart. "You will give me an explanation at once." 
"...Mistake."
 "It certainly was a mistake," Alfred stormed. "I understand you have yet to overcome the abhorrent treatment you suffered in the past, but this has gone too far. Take it out on the house if you must, but I will not tolerate you causing such deliberate, malicious harm to any person in this family." John burst into tears, curling into himself with his arms over his head. Alfred let him cry for a moment. Then, although it was difficult for him to get down on the hard floor at his age, he knelt and placed a hand on the child's heaving shoulders. "Master John, I love you deeply," he said in a gentler tone. "And your father, Master Bruce, loves you as well. We forgive you, and we beg you to stop. I wish you and your father nothing but peace and happiness, my dear boy." 
"You hate me. I'm bad. Alone cold dark, I want to hurt, I love you, Dad is angry, Bad Laugh Man makes me cold dark hurts me, I'm scared, Dad is not Him Dad is Him Dad will hurt me, when will he hurt me? Why?"
 Alfred gathered John into his arms. "My dear boy...my dear, precious boy.... We love you so much, we would give the world to keep you safe, dear child...." Bruce knelt beside them. "John." The boy tensed in Alfred's embrace. "John. I'm sorry for losing my temper." He reached to caress his son's hair. "You're a good boy, you have been such a light in our lives, just like Dick and all your brothers and sister were before you. I know you're hurting even more than I am right now. I'm sorry, and I love you, and I don't ever want to hurt you. Alfred was completely right, we would give the world to protect you." John struggled free. He tried to pull off his clothes, but they stopped him; he set Bruce's hands around his own throat and tried to squeeze his fingers tighter. "Kkkilll mme." "No. No, John. No." 
"Please hurt me."
 "No. You are safe. We love you, we will not hurt you." "Wwwhhhy?!" "You are a good boy, a precious boy, we love you, we want you to be safe and happy." 
"I am a bird! [crow]!"
 "You are a human boy. We love you." John wept.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Deleted scene: The original version of the "John vs. Bruce" conclusion (rough draft)
 [chirp-chirp] lay there in the not-dark. The little light was glowing soft, his flockmates were sleeping safe beside him, warm blankets covered them, Bossy was reading. Guarding, but relaxed. ...Safe. Quiet. Everything was safe and quiet. They said it would be this way forever. He thought they were wrong, but he had done everything he could to make Master break, and Master hadn't done it. Either they were right and Master was not Master, or [chirp-chirp] had to lose. On purpose. He climbed out of the nest. "Grayson, ~~ back ~~ bed." No. No bed, no safe. [chirp-chirp] had to know. "Grayson!" Hands on him, small hands, but strong; pulling him, it hurt a little. [chirp-chirp] tried to keep going, but it hurt him, fighting against those hands. So he let Bossy push him back onto the bed. When Bossy let go, he got up again. "Stop that!" Bossy pushed him. [chirp-chirp] let him. Bossy let go. [chirp-chirp] got up. Bossy was angry and frustrated. [chirp-chirp] was angry and frustrated, too, but he knew he couldn't beat Bossy, so he let Bossy do what he wanted, and [chirp-chirp] did what he wanted whenever he could. Finally, Bossy didn't stop him. Bossy put his 'phone' to the side of his head and complained into it and followed [chirp-chirp] when he left the good safe room and went to the bad one. It was very dark inside, except for the blue light by Master's face. Master was talking to his phone, too. [chirp-chirp] was too frightened to move, but then Master put down the phone, and the small cold blue light went away, and he turned on the bigger light by the bed, and it was a warm yellow light. Master still had his Daddy face, worried and tired and not Smiling at all. [chirp-chirp] could move now. He went to his nest in the corner and lay in it. He was frightened to be here without his flockmates, so he cried. Master's heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer. [chirp-chirp] would not look back, he was losing this game, Master would do whatever he wanted and [chirp-chirp] wouldn't stop him, but he still had to curl up and cover his head because he was so afraid. "John, ~~~ all right?" [chirp-chirp] waited. He waited. Master spoke, but it was Bossy he spoke to. Bossy went away. Master...pulled the feathers up over [chirp-chirp]'s body. He went away, too, to his own nest, and it was very, very quiet. [chirp-chirp] woke up. He was frightened because he was alone, then he remembered that he had left his flock on purpose. He had come to lose, to give himself to Master and see what Master did with him. He could hear Master breathing, but he couldn't see him, so he turned around and Master was asleep in his own big nest. The light by his bed was still on. [chirp-chirp] didn't know why he was crying now. Nobody was hurting him, there was nothing to be afraid of, but water was pouring out of his eyes and he felt like he was dying. Master woke up. Master stood tall. Master started coming for him. 'Don't hide,' [chirp-chirp] told himself. 'You belong to Master. You came to see what he will do with you, so you can't run or hide.' Still the Daddy face. Still. "Johnny, please. What's wrong? Why are you crying, Johnny? Why did you come here?" [chirp-chirp] couldn't say it with anything but his body, so he did. "I give me. What will you do with me?" Master covered him again. He sat there and sang to him, and [chirp-chirp] loved that voice, he hated that he loved that voice but it was so beautiful, and Master never sang to him like that. When this person sang to him in that voice, he couldn't be Master, he could only be Daddy. [chirp-chirp] woke up. He had fallen asleep while Da-- While the man...while Bruce sang. But it was all right, because nothing bad had happened, Bruce was sleeping there and [chirp-chirp] was here in his nest and his whole body, nothing hurt at all. He took his feathers off. Feathers were for warm and safe, and he didn't know if he was safe, so he took them off. He went to the window, with the night and the grass and the trees that were pretty and happy. 'Mamma,' he thought. 'Papà.' His father who loved him so much, his mother who loved him so much, they were dead now. They had been dead for a long time, they couldn't help him or love him anymore. He missed them so so so so so so much. 'Mamma. Papà. Goodbye. I love you. Goodbye.' They were his old flock. He had a new flock now. His old self and his old flock was dead; he had to be with his new flock, he had to be a new self. '...Goodbye, Dick.' Behind him, Master stirred, and he flinched. Master was waking up. He heard Master's footsteps coming, and he pressed against the window and shook, trying so hard not to look back. He couldn't look back. Looking back would mean he was still fighting, but he couldn't fight anymore, because he had given up. He was naked and alone with this man, and now he would know. If this man was Master, he would be pleased and tie [chirp-chirp] and hurt him. If this man was Daddy, then he would be upset and cover [chirp-chirp] up again, because he liked for his bird [chirp-chirp]-- he liked for his human boy John to be covered and warm and safe. Now he would know-- Hands. Big hands touching him, [chirp-chirp] was so afraid, but they were gentle hands. They were Daddy's hands, pulling feathers-- clothes over his skin, warm and safe. Big hands not hurting him. These were Daddy's hands, and they were not touching a bird, they were touching a boy named John. "John, why ~~ sleep?" Daddy's voice was upset. [chirp-chi-- John looked at him. Daddy was hurt that he couldn't take care of his small one, that he couldn't make his small one happy. John couldn't be happy, but he could be warm and safe so that Daddy wouldn't look so worried and upset anymore. "~~ you hungry? ~~ you thirsty?" John was going to say no, but then he realized that his mouth was dry. "Thirsty," he said with his hands. Master-- Daddy went away into the water room. He came back with a cup. There was water in it, very clean, and when John drank it, it was cold and good. He went to lie down on Daddy's nest-- his bed. He would sleep close to Daddy, and if he woke up because Master was hurting him or tying, him, he would know-- Daddy didn't come to his own bed. He lay down on John's bed. John frowned and went to sleep with Daddy, but Daddy pushed him away (gently). "You ~~ sleep ~~ your ~~ bed, John." "I will sleep close to you," John said with his body. But Daddy went away to his bed, and when John followed, Daddy went back to John's bed, and then he knew Daddy refused to sleep with him. Well...that was okay. They didn't have to sleep in the same bed. If John woke up and Master was hurting him, he would know; and if he woke up and Daddy was not hurting him, he would know. It didn't have to be the same bed. He closed his eyes. When he woke up, the sun was shining and Daddy was in the water room, and John looked down at himself and his body was not hurt or bleeding. He was warm, and...he was...safe. o.o.o.o.o Bruce, out of the corner of his eye, noticed John coming up to him, and he whirled defensively. John looked a little taken aback. "...I want to hug you." "Do you really want a hug, or are you going to hit me or bite me or stab me again?" 
"I did bad things. I am very sorry. Please hug me, and then you can be angry and yell at me."
 "I'm not angry. Come here." Bruce opened his arms, figuring that he could take whatever his troubled son intended to dish out this time. At last, however, it seemed to be genuine. John clung to him for a long time, then pulled back, studying how tense and wary his father still was. "You are...afraid of me...?" "Maybe a little," Bruce admitted. "You can pack quite a punch when you want to." John sat there for a while, absorbing this. Bruce gently cradled the boy's bruised wrists. "I'm so sorry for this, John. It was wrong of me to hurt you. I'm very sorry." John smiled a little. "Didn't hurt." "A parent should never leave marks like this on his child, never." "Bbboosse." John lifted his shirt, not to take it off this time, but to display the scars that riddled his body from old beatings. "What he did to you was terrible. It was so wrong, John. It was wrong." 
"I didn't do anything bad to him, but he ripped me apart. I hurt you as bad as I could, but all you did was yell and get sad. Then you were nice to me again. You're crazy, Dad."
 "Not the first time someone's called me crazy," Bruce murmured, pulling his son into another hug. "I love you, John." John squirmed into a more comfortable position. He put his arms around Bruce's neck and said into his ear, "Cccall mme ssssweet bbird." "What?" "Sssweet bird. Ccall me." "...Is that what...is that what he called you?" "Yysss." "No. Johnny, no, I can't call you that." "Ccall me ssweet bird. Ccall me ssweet--" "Please." "Plllease, Ddaddy." Bruce shut his eyes and held his son close. "...Sweet bird." The boy shivered. "John--" "Mmmore. Mmore, plllease." "...Sweet bird," Bruce whispered. "I love you, sweet bird. I love you. He is gone forever, I will never let anyone hurt you again, sweet bird. You're my sweet bird, not his. I'd do anything to make you happy, chum." John hummed. "Iii am...nnnot bbird. I am hhhuman. Iii am Bbooss' ssweet bbird ch-chum, I nno [crow] c-crrrow, I, Iii am...I amm...Dddick. Ddick Grrraysson, Mmamma an' Ppapà.... Ii am Jjohn Dddick Wwwayne." He pulled away so he could sign. "It's so hard to talk!" "It's all right. You did well, chum. You did well." 
"I am not what he wanted me to be."
 "That's right." 
"My new family makes me strong, you and Grandpa [big chirp-chirp] [caw] [warble] and everyone I love, you make me strong and happy."
 Bruce kissed the side of his head. "You and your siblings make me happy, too, Johnny." "Yysss. Ha ha ha ha ha, Bbad Llaugh Mman, I wwin."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile , a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlAlternate route : Never Adopted - Part 1 (rough draft) *This is a version of TBWS where, instead of bringing the birds into their family, the Bats hand them off to social services immediately upon returning home from the Batpocalypse and promptly forget about them until their paths happen to cross again seven years later. 
Warnings: Strong language; references to sexual abuse; implied child abuse/neglect.
 o.o.o Red Hood did not play around when a child's life was on the line. He viciously incapacitated all but one of Penguin's goons, disarmed the last, and pressed his gun to the minion's head. The only reason he started the interrogation with a threat instead of at least one broken bone was because the guy was a freaking kid, couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen. "Where's the girl?" Hood snarled. The boy actually hissed at him like an animal. His shark-like teeth and somewhat pointed ears indicated he was probably a low-level meta of some kind. Because of signs of past Jokerization and the numerous scars he was covered with, including marks on his neck and wrists that suggested he'd been cruelly restrained for a long period of time, Hood would usually have been inclined to get him help, but not now, when a child was in danger thanks to this punk's employers. "I'm not fucking around!" Hood shouted, slamming the boy up against the wall. "Delaney Gainesworth! Where is she?!" "Dunno!" the boy shouted. "Oh, you're gonna have to do better than that." Despite everything, Hood hesitated to knock around a child who'd probably grown up being abused. Unfortunately, the kid didn't seem to be particularly threatened by guns, so Hood tried dragging him up to the roof, tying a grapple line around his ankles, and dangling him over the edge. (The kid didn't freaking weigh as much as he ought to, either....) The boy did scream and scrabble for something to hold onto, and, for some reason (related to the meta thing, maybe??), started screeching exactly like a distressed bird. What he did not do was cough up Delaney's location. Nightwing showed up after a few minutes. "Whatcha got there?" He asked more grimly than usual due to the circumstances. "Penguin goon." Hood added in sign language, "I don't think he knows anything, though." Nightwing nodded and Hood hauled the boy back onto the roof, tossed him down, then pressed a knee into his back and a gun to his shoulder. The boy was crying by now, an utterly hopeless sound that made Hood's heart sort of twist. "Last chance, punk. Delaney Gainesworth. Tell me how to find her, and I'll give you $100. I'll throw you in kiddie jail if you don't." The boy hesitated. Then, awkwardly because of his position, he signed, "Money?" The vigilantes glanced at each other, unhappy that the boy knew ASL (though impressed that the kid had picked up on their brief silent communication while he'd been dangling 50 feet in the air). "Yeah," Nightwing said, signing as he spoke. Hood turned the gun away and eased his hold a bit. "If you help us find the little girl, we'll give you money." Unexpectedly, a flash of horror crossed the boy's face, then grim resignation. "Bad you, do not hurt scared child." His signing was odd, as if he'd picked up the vocabulary from somewhere but knew no grammar and never practiced with fluent signers. "We're not gonna hurt her!" Hood exclaimed, wondering if this kid had somehow managed to mistake the vigilantes for villains. "We're gonna take her home to her parents." The boy's face twisted angrily. "You give child Batman. Fuck you." "Batman's going to give her to the police, who will give her to her--" "NO!" the boy screeched, squirming under Hood. "You bad Batman people help Batman, fuck you!!" Tears were sliding down his face again, and his expression was twisted with rage. Then he screeched at them with more bird sounds. The vigilantes looked at each other again. "Hey," Nightwing said gently, still signing in case the boy was hard of hearing or had some other comprehension issue that made signing easier than speaking. "What's your name?" The boy made a warbling sound, looking defiant. "...Okay then, Warble. Nice to meet you. I'm Nightwing." 
"Batman bitch."
 Hood burst into laughter. "Not too far off." "Shut up, Hood. Hey, Warble. Look, I know Batman is some kind of bogeyman, but he only goes after bad guys, people who hurt other people. He wants to help innocent people, especially kids. All we want is for Delaney to be safe so that Penguin doesn't hurt her or kill her." Warble twisted to look up at Hood. "He lie, or stupid?" "Either way, forget Bats if you hate him so much. Will you tell the police where to find Delaney if you won't tell us?" "No." Hood shoved the kid's head back against the roof. "So you want that girl to die?" "Penguin kill quick," the boy hissed. He had a strange accent, too, that sounded more like it was from an impairment rather than a birth language other than English. "Batman lock kids in cages, torture 'em 'til they wanna die but he don't let 'em. Penguin better." "What the hell?" Hood muttered. "Batman doesn't do that, he would never!" Nightwing cried. "You Batman' bitch. You like turn kids to birds, too?" Before Nightwing could figure out how to even answer that, Damian's voice came through their comms. "The Gainesworth girl has been recovered, we're waiting tor law enforcement to collect her. Batman is wiping up the last of the kidnappers." "Thanks, Xu'ffasch," Nightwing said. "What are we going to do with this bird?" Jason asked in Arabic, hoping that Warble didn't know that one, too. "If we take him to B, we will have a new little brother," Dick responded in the same language. When the vigilantes burst into laughter, Warble made a startled crowing sound and then hissed. "Orphanage?" Dick suggested when he stopped laughing. "Hey, kid," Hood said. "You got any family?" "...No." The quiet, bitter way he said it meant that even if he was lying, he might as well have not been. "Orphanage it is." They remotely called a car, one of the nondescript ones. Nightwing used the wait to get a DNA sample from Warble and send it to the Batcomputer for analysis, in hopes of eventually getting the boy's identity. Warble put up a fight, but once he'd been handcuffed, he submitted quietly and sullenly to being forced into the car's back seat. "We don't both need to take him," Jason pointed out. "You're right. It should be you, he likes you better." "What?!" "He thinks I'm Batman's bitch, remember?" "You just don't want to babysit." Still, Hood didn't argue much about getting into the driver's seat as Nightwing grappled away. After about five minutes of malevolent glaring, during which time it had started to drizzle, Warble spoke up. "You like Batman? You hate 'im?" Jason had to be careful about this. There were times when it was useful to be known as an ally of Batman, and others when it was definitely not. "Depends on the week. I decided to give him a hand on the Gainesworth case but trust me, there are plenty of times when I want to shoot him in the head." "Please." "What? Please shoot Batman in the head?" "Yes." "Hah. Maybe someday, but not tonight, kid." "Please. Kill 'im. Suck your dick if you do." Jason felt a surge of nausea at the offer. Horrifyingly, the boy hadn't shown an ounce of hesitation in making it. "God, kid, don't you know anything about Red Hood? I blow out the brains of people who fuck kids." "Wha' 'bout people who touch kids but don' fuck 'em?" "I shoot those bastards, too." "Good. Shoot Batman. He that touch kids bastard." Jason frowned. Bruce could be a terrible person sometimes, but he would never in a million years do anything like that. "How do you know?" "Touched me. My brothers. Tied us down an' hurt us 'til we foun' the out. Bastard kept changing what it was." Jason worked to swallow down his rage. "...How d'you know it was the real Batman? Lots of people have impersonated him. Could've been a random pedo in a bat costume." "No costume when he hurt us. Mostly." "You know what Bats looks like under the mask?" "Bruce Wayne," Warble hissed. Even if Jason hadn't been trained to not react, he would have had no time to before the boy added, "Joker." "What's Bruce Wayne got to do with Joker?" "'t's HIM. He laughs. "Yeah, Joker does that," Jason said bitterly. "So does Bat! Laughs to hurt bird boys!!!" Jason was starting to wonder if this kid wasn't quite sane. "How about this, I'll shoot or punch anyone who tries to hurt you on my watch. And if you quit working for Penguin and clean up your act, I'll take your case. I'll make the bastard who hurt you pay." "...Red Hood." "Yeah?" "Why you help Batman? Nigh'wing his bitch, Xu'ffa' his son, Red Robin rot in hell, but you free and good. Why??" "...We don't always agree. But he helped me out when I was a kid, and I just...I don't want to be one of his lackeys, but it would be dumb to cut ties altogether. Batman's more useful as an ally than an enemy." Warble didn't answer. After a while, Jason asked, "Who are your brothers?" "...[chirp-chirp] an' [caw]." They were spot-on bird noises even though he'd included them in the sentence as if they were words. "Don' know real names." Well, that was...weird. "They still alive?" Warble glared suspiciously. "Where we goin'?" "Somewhere safe." Even as the words left his mouth, Jason suddenly remembered that Warble hated Bruce Wayne and might object to-- Too late. The Martha Wayne Children's Shelter was already in sight. Almost on cue, the boy started shrieking as soon as he saw the huge, fancy W glowing over the entrance. "YOU GIMME T' WAYNE, FUCK YOU, LEMME OUT, LEMME OUT!" "Hey, kid! Hey!" Warble wouldn't stop screaming and thrashing and clawing at the child-locked door, so Jason pulled away from the curb again. They'd been driving tor five minutes before the boy's screams finally faded to sobs. "Hey. Can you hear me now?" "Fuck you," The boy wailed brokenly. "Listen. I'm not gonna take you there, okay? I won't. But I gotta leave you somewhere, and honestly, Wayne places are the only ones in this city I trust. I don't want to drop you off somewhere else where there's a good chance you'll get abused, trafficked, or recruited, you understand me?" "...Take me home." "Where's home?" "Crime Alley." "A real address on Crime Alley, or a cardboard box behind a dumpster?" "Momma." "So you do have family." "Yeah." Warble asked to be let off down the street, and the only reason Jason agreed was because he planned to tail the kid. When he caught up, he found the boy, who was flinching away from the rainwater trickling from the roof's edge, knocking at the dilapidated back door of a house. For a while, it looked like no one was going to answer. Warble, shoulders slumped, was just trudging toward a doghouse in a corner of the yard when the door suddenly flew open. "Where have you BEEN?!" a woman screeched. "Long job," Warble said sullenly. "Yeah? Where's the money for it?" she challenged. "None," Warble said, sighing deeply. "Bats came." He was already stripping out of his clothes. He stood naked and shivering in the rain as the woman thoroughly searched his garments and found nothing of value. She hurled his pants back at him. "Get in there," she snarled. "You're not goin' ta bed 'til the house is spotless." "Sandwich first?" He pleaded as he pulled his clothes back on, and Jason kicked himself for not offering to get the kid any food before dropping him off. "You eat when you earn it, you little freak, and from where I'm standin', you owe me a hell of a lot more than a sandwich. Get your ass in there." Warble was soon scrubbing the kitchen as the woman went to smoke and doze off in front of the TV in the cluttered, dirty living room. Jason crouched there in the rain, conflicted and nearly shaking with directionless anger. Warble needed to get out of there, but with the way he hated anything associated with Bruce Wayne, there was nowhere safe for him to go. The woman, despite the general mistreatment, hadn't abused him in a way the law would recognize except to withhold food, and Warble was even now furtively slipping bites into his mouth as he cleaned the refrigerator. With other crimes clamoring in Jason's ear, he reluctantly left, intending to look into getting Warble a better home once they figured out who he was. TBC A/N: Wrangling this story was like pulling teeth! I got really inspired for individual scenes, but then when I was trying to write them down and organize them into a coherent story, my internal editor kept going, over and over and over again, "Nope, that won't work for *insert practical reason here*." Sorry if the end result is choppy; it was way way way worse before I figured out a continuous sequence of events. *sweatdrop* Sorry also that I haven't been writing much. I have a Writing Muse and a To Do Muse; lately, the To Do Muse seems to be stronger. I've been working on real life projects rather than writing; the majority of this story was tapped out on my tablet a few minutes at a time during my breaks at work. Hopefully I'll have more time to write soon!

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate route: Never Adopted - Part 2 (rough draft)
 
A/N: I don't know if this needs a "blood and gore" warning, since the 'victim' fully deserves it.
 (Btw, this is the chapter I was worried about being choppy.) o.o.o The Waynes stared at the Batcomputer's screen in shock. The DNA test results reported that Warble was a complete match for Timothy Drake. "Is he a clone?" Dick wondered as Bruce pulled up a still shot from Red Hood's patrol footage and a photo of Tim from his early days at the manor for comparison. To all appearances, it was the same boy. Warble looked exactly like Tim would if he'd been Jokerized and raised on the darkest streets of Gotham. The only reason Dick and Jason hadn't recognized him was because they hadn't been looking for a resemblance. "What are we going to do about this?" Damian demanded, looking disturbed. "First we find out where the hell he came from," Tim said grimly, pulling up records and news articles as searches worked in the background. "We need to find proper caretakers for him," Bruce muttered, working on his own research. With the Waynes' other responsibilities and open cases, the searches went slowly, and it didn't help that Warble was not officially connected in any way to the woman whose house he slept in. It was hard to track him before he'd fallen in with Penguin; as a street kid in an area of town with comparatively few cameras, he seemed to have showed up out of nowhere. Searching for information on Timothy Drake was only bringing up material about their own Drake-Wayne, and the laboratories Bruce looked into, despite being involved in other sketchy business, were dead ends as far as potentially creating clones of Tim. Over the next few days, the Bats kept tabs on Warble himself. He worked like a slave in his 'momma's' house, apparently in exchange for little more than a roof over his head; ran a couple of messages for Penguin's men; boosted tires efficiently enough to impress even Jason; and usually spent at least an hour a day at the public library, researching the Waynes and the Bats and grimly practicing the ASL vocabulary videos he looked up on YouTube. One day, Tim tried stepping into his path. "Hey. So I hear you're my clone or something." At the sight of him, Warble's face twisted with rage. He spat, and Tim had to move quickly to avoid the gross projectile. "You know, what I find interesting is that you act like you know me." "You steal my name my face my life MINE! Go die!!" "Why is it that everyone always hates you on first sight, Timmy?" Jason laughed, ambling up to join him. "You're actually a pretty cool guy." "Thanks, bro," Tim deadpanned. Warble, meanwhile, suddenly looked nervous. He backed up a few steps, eyes darting around and up. When he saw Damian loitering down the street, he fled. The Bats gave chase; Damian dropped down in front of Warble in an alley to cut off his route. The child immediately switched back, but Jason and Tim had caught up with him by then. Looking desperate, Warble threw himself at the wall and managed to claw his way up a quarter of it before he fell and landed in Jason's arms. "Hey. We're not gonna hurt you, we just want to talk." "Ba'man Ba'man Ba'man Ba'man," Warble started whispering in panic, twisting and struggling as he tried to get free and look around wildly. "Batman's not here. He's not gonna get you, okay?" "Wayne, no Wayne!" Then he started crying out frantically in bird sounds again. "Let him go," Cassandra ordered when she came up to join them. "Too scared." Jason reluctantly released the boy, who darted out of sight. "He knew who we were," Tim said slowly. "As the Waynes, possibly as...the others. He thought B was here." (Bruce had known better than to accompany them in person, but he was listening through the comms.) "Who is this kid?!" The mystery was solved that night, when they tried looking up records of Joker victims. "The Batpocalypse," Tim murmured, staring at his screen. "He was one of them? The man-eating Robins?" Bruce's heart was beating quickly, because something had occurred to him (other than the crushing guilt of getting those creatures off his hands without bothering to perform any basic tests; those had been his sons, those had been his children he'd just blithely given away, it was Tim and Dick and Jason and he'd failed them all over again, all over again...!). The older boys, the ones who resembled a Jokerized young Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. They had been given to social services along with the youngest boy. Where were they now? While Bruce was looking that up, Tim was reading through the records of what had happened to his younger self. The child had been institutionalized for six months and then released into foster care at age seven. (On his alternate universe refugee paperwork, his age had been estimated based on his physical evaluations, and his ‘birthday’ matched the date of the newspaper where a grainy image of him and his ‘brothers’ had first appeared. His legal name was Tim Dake, as if whoever had been in charge of recording it had done a straight transcription of the child’s mispronunciation.) Young Tim had gone through three placements in four years. Reading between the lines gave the impression that the child had probably been abused and neglected in at least two of the homes. The last official record of him was a missing person report when he’d presumably run away at age eleven. It had been seven years since Barbados’s attack on the multiverse; the boy would be thirteen now. Meanwhile, Bruce had discovered, to his horror, that the other Robins had been permanently institutionalized at Arkham Juvenile Detention Center. He hadn't even known they'd been sent to a mental hospital at all. Arkham was for the criminally insane, but these children weren't criminals, they-- Yes, they'd killed people, but they had been brainwashed and tortured, forced to kill by a sadistic madman. Yet they'd been placed at the detention center within less than a week of leaving the Bats, and they were still there. "My God," Tim said bleakly. Bruce stared at the day old security footage of the nameless teenagers. (No one had ever bothered to run DNA tests on them, though even if they had, it would have matched nothing in the system, since Bruce kept his family's sensitive data heavily secured.) The older John Doe lay naked and unbound on the floor in a bare suicide watch cell. He did not move at all except for when orderlies periodically came in to force-feed him, force medication into him, force exercise on him, or deal with his waste. The sixteen-year-old reacted to none of it, not even when some of the orderlies took the opportunity to mock and abuse him. It was like he had no mind and no soul, just an empty body subject to the wishes of its captors. The younger John Doe was in a small, padded cell, bound with a straitjacket, headgear that included a muzzle, and cuffs around his ankles. When he wasn't lying in a stupor or slurping up liquid meals, he was screaming and hurling himself against the walls, sometimes for hours on end. "We have to get them out of there," Bruce said faintly. 'Dick. Jason.' Even if it wasn't them, even if they were total strangers, they didn't deserve this torture. Bruce should have made sure they were properly taken care of from the beginning, not just expected the best simply because the social workers who'd taken the little Robins years ago had been smiling and seemed kind. "I'm a fool." o.o.o.o.o The arrangements had been made. The younger Dick and the younger Jason - whom the Waynes had begun calling by their middle names to distinguish them from their counterparts - were slated to be moved to Wayne facilities. Bruce had a detailed plan for their rehabilitation. It frustrated him to know that he couldn't personally take the boys under his wing, but if Jackson's reaction to the Bats and the Wayne name was any indication, the Robins probably remembered unfortunate details from their captivity in their homeworld, and Bruce's proximity would only make things worse. 
'It's all right, though. As long as they're safe and well-cared for, they don't need to be with me. All that matters is that they're safe....'
 Of course Joker would pick that night to break out of the main Arkham facility, target the juvenile detention branch for hostages, and hole up with them in an abandoned toy factory on the edge of town. Of course John and Peter would be among the hostages. Because this was Gotham, so of course. o.o.o.o.o Something wasn't right. Joker had said he would call in with his next set of demands hours ago, but there had been no word from him, not even any wordless messages, gruesome or otherwise. Swarms of law enforcement had laid siege to the factory; the Bats were cautiously making their way in. They were occasionally startled by random, aimlessly wandering hostages, but there was no sign of Joker or his henchmen. "Heads up," Barbara warned, "Bird 3 slipped past the police and got into the building." 
"What the heck, why?! How?!"
 "Must've been following the news," Red Robin pointed out. "He...might've seen his opportunity to help the other birds." Red Hood, his back creeping, was the first one to find the right level. He stared for a moment, then sent a message to his siblings only. "It's...fine. Everything's okay now. Just stall Batman for me, will you?" 
"Why? What's the situation, Hood?"
 
"Are John and Peter okay?!"
 "They're fine. Can't talk; just hold him off, please." 
"Joker's dead, isn't he."
 Jason muted his comm without answering. There was such a huge quantity of blood and gore that it didn't even look real. Henchmen were scattered, some lying still and silent where they'd been mauled, others whimpering in corners as they nursed wounds that looked like shark bites. The few hostages that remained in the room, like their fellows on the lower floors, wandered aimlessly, mostly unhurt. John sat by the purple-suited corpse, coated with blood that didn't seem to be his. He was gazing into the distance, one hand idly occupied with something the way one would play with a booger. Upon further inspection, the thing turned out to be a chunk of squishy flesh, possibly part of a tongue. Maybe a tonsil. "You okay, Johnny?" Jason asked quietly. Then, remembering that this boy would have responded to a different name once upon a time, "Dickie?" John paused and blinked slowly, his eyes dragging themselves toward Jason. "...Ddd'ckkkiie," he finally murmured. "Yeah. Dick John Grayson. John, that's you. Right?" The only answer was a bit of soft birdsong. Jason nodded and turned when his own young counterpart came eagerly bounding up to the body. Peter slammed down the hammer he had found, wrenched free another one of Joker's ribs, and galloped off with it, howling a melody as he hurled the rib out the window. Jackson was chasing after his brother, looking exasperated and tense as he tried to get Peter's attention, casting occasional nervous glances at Jason. "Okay. Geez, what a mess.... Okay. Listen. I have to get you chickadees out of here." John turned from a ghost to a beast when Jason tried to move him - he shrieked and scratched and bit until Jackson rushed over, at which point John latched onto him and quieted immediately, his face going slack. He moved like a zombie, clinging to his youngest brother and stumbling. Jason held on to Jackson's arm, and though the thirteen-year-old snarled and cussed at him, John didn't seem to be bothered. "Okay...that's two out of three; oi, JASON! Get your crazy ass over here!" Wrangling Peter was harder - Jason finally had to hack off a chunk of Joker and entice his younger self with it like it was bait. Peter followed, grabbing playfully at the severed ear. Hood felt like a grisly sort of pied piper as he made his slow way down to the ground floor, waving the ear, jerking Jackson along, and making sure John didn't lose his grip and get left behind. "Okay, almost there, almost there...." Red Robin had complied with Hood's request and had a car waiting for them. Peter immediately dove for the bottles of nutrition shakes sitting on the back seat; Jackson, still cursing and twittering, spat at Hood and then started fighting his brother for a shake; John got dragged in his wake and collapsed at his brothers' feet, still lifeless except for how tightly he was clinging to their legs. Hood shut the door on them and got into the driver's seat with a sigh. "Okay, off we go...." TBC Final batch of Breezy art!! (I think. She's coming back very soon, but I don't know how long it will be before she resumes normal Internet activity, and she might or might not send me more sketches in the meantime, I have no idea.) You know the drill; art by breezy-cheezy (Medli45), posted with permission, please do not repost! The TBWS one in the lower corner is Jack sadly texting Tim. I...think that one in the other corner might be John with Superman? At the top we've got Tim & Kon; Bizarro watching Jay with Tim and then trying to emulate him XD; and high school AU Trinity. ^^

I cannot BELIEVE I never posted this!! Breezy drew this ages ago, but somehow it got lost in the shuffle until now! This is the end of the John vs. Bruce arc.

Super-cute comic for the "Mistletoe" theme of that 2018 Christmas challenge we were both working on! That's Johnny giving his whole family sweet Christmas kisses. ^^ I really really really want to write a one-shot based on this; I wrote the first few paragraphs but then got distracted. X''D Will finish it eventually!

And then for my fic When the Shadows Reach Gotham, this is Jason demanding for Bruce to clean out the library before he does something drastic (from chapter...2? I think??), and then Jay & Timmy growing up as brothers. ^^

From WtSRG again, amazing shot of Riku & Red Robin fighting back to back; something like that is coincidentally going to be in the next chapter, whenever I get around to finishing it. What Breezy drew here is actually Part 1 of a totally different situation, but the second page has spoilers, so I won't post it.

There were 11 more WtSRG sketches in my folder, but since they're all spoilers for stuff that happens much later in the story, I'm gonna let Breezy decide whether to post them whenever she becomes active again or wait until I get a chance to write those parts. Either way, they're good pictures. X3

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The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlAlternate route: Never Adopted - Part 3 (rough draft)A/N: HEY, SO. I no longer have any word processor that preserves my formatting (I do have a new copy of MS Office, but I can't install it yet because I still don't know whether or not I'll have to exchange my new computer for one that's aware that its OS is, in fact, legit *sigh*), so**THIS CHAPTER LOST ALL ITS ITALICS**!!Please keep that in mind as you read and wonder why certain words that would sound better emphasized are not, and why the dialogue in non-English languages is not distinguished in any way.o.o.oJason pulled up in front of one of his safehouses in a middle-class area of town. None of the birds were asleep, but they were all slumped, quiet and glassy-eyed, worn out from their ordeals."Okay, kiddos. Out of the car, we're home." When he circled around and opened the car door, Peter screamed and tried to bite him. Jackson looked like the only reason he wasn't running was because his brothers wouldn't be able to keep up. John looked basically dead, except for the tight grip he had on his brothers' sleeves.Jason eventually got them out by bribing Peter with a small piece of chocolate and bodily scooping out John once Peter was clear; Jackson was dragged along. The youngest boy was nervous and twitchy as Jason unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and herded them all in.It was a small two-bedroom house. The younger boys immediately set off in opposite directions to explore and were brought up short by John's grip. His head hung as he silently stood stretched between them in almost a crucifixion pose until his brothers held a twittered conference and then headed toward the kitchen as a group. None of them had spoken any recognizable language since they'd been reunited."You can have some more shakes, but let's wait on real food." Jason handed the birds another set of nutrient-rich drinks and then ushered them toward the bathroom. "You guys are disgusting and filthy, and tracking Joker's blood all over my safehouse is not acceptable. Bathtime.""Look but don' touch?" Jackson taunted him bitterly."Not like that kid, come on. If any of you want help, I'll give it. You don't, I'll stay out 'til you're dressed. Pete, don't eat the soap; seriously?"The sound of running bathwater prompted John to blink and then curl up on the floor with his hands over his head, keening softly in fear."Hey, Johnny, it's okay. No one's gonna hurt you; Jackson - Warble - is right here to make sure. You hear me?"He tried picking up John's hand and easing it into the water to demonstrate that it was comfortably warm, but John didn't respond, and when Jason looked at his face, the teen looked like he'd completely checked out. "Geez.... Jack, help me."He directed Jackson to scrub the dried blood from John's body with a washcloth as Jason worked on his hair. Peter, meanwhile, had thrown off his clothes, yanked the knob to seal the tub drain, and was now giggling as he crouched in the steadily rising water.Jason didn't have time to deal with him. Once John was clean, Jason hauled him out and wrapped him in towels. "I'm gonna go get some clothes for you guys," he told Jackson, who kept eyeing him warily as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.By the time he came back, Peter had contentedly fallen asleep in the tub full of warm, nasty bathwater. He woke up and shrieked in protest when Jason unplugged the drain, then snatched the shower head when Jason pulled it down and hugged it to his chest.He wouldn't let go. Jason, with a lot of internal deep sighs, managed to wash the teen's hair and rinse out the shampoo with water from the sink, then ran a washcloth over the remaining loosened grime on his younger self's body. Peter seemed to have no objection, but he refused to relinquish the shower head. Jason looked at Jack and threw up his arms in exasperation; the younger boy made a soft noise of amusement.It was only when goosebumps began to rise on Peter's back and he started shivering that he finally began to look uncertain. Even then, he curled around the shower head, desperate for the warm water still flowing down his front even as the shivering from his cold back increased.Jason unfolded a towel and dangled it invitingly. Peter eyed it, considering. Jackson shut the water off, and Peter screeched. He fumbled at the faucet again, but Jason managed to get the towel over him before he could turn the water back on. Peter hugged the towel desperately like he'd been hugging the shower head; Jason pulled him out of the tub and tossed another towel over him like a blanket. "There. You're not gonna be cold if you let go, I promise."Jason then dressed John. The teen had finally come out of his dissociative episode, but was still as motionless as a doll. Jason helped Peter into a set of clothes, too (T-shirts and boxers fresh out of a package; all his pants were too big for them), then looked at Jack. "You want these guys in here or out there while you shower?""Scram," Jackson said, with less heat than usual."Okay. Call if they cause trouble." Jason made sure there was another outfit and a fresh towel laid out for the youngest boy, then left, shutting the door on the three birds.He busied himself in the kitchen, warming up some soup, until the boys came out again, Peter galloping around in curiosity and Jackson pulling an unresponsive John along. All three soon clustered in the kitchen, practically drooling at the smell of soup."Easy on the solids for a while," Jason warned his younger self, who'd been kept on a mostly-liquid diet at the asylum. Peter hissed at him, but set upon the soup eagerly when a bowl of it was set before him.Peter slurped up his entire serving in about one minute and then made a grab for Jackson's. The younger boy launched himself half across the table to close his jaws over Peter's shoulder in a warning bite. In seconds, it had degenerated into a bloody wolf battle. John sat still and silent, food untouched, as Jason, who was fortunately still wearing body armor, struggled to keep the younger ones apart.Peter ended up in a corner, gnawing on a paperback book like a freaking dog as John listlessly clung to him; Jackson was storming up and down, raging in a mix of bird language, English, and ASL."This is nuts," Jason muttered.Peter soon fell asleep right there on the floor. When Jason made to take a blanket over, Jackson raced to intercept, cursing at him until Jason retreated. Jackson grabbed a couple of totally different blankets and covered his brothers with them. Then he sat there, staring belligerently at Jason."...I'm not gonna hurt you guys.""You sell us?" Jackson asked in sign language."What?""No money.""Look, I don't mind giving out money to desperate people, but I'm not gonna drop a hundred bucks in your hand every time you ask.""No," Jackson said aloud, impatiently. "We got no money. Whatchu want for this?" He gestured around at the house. "You touch 'em," he nodded at his brothers, "I kill you. You change your min' 'bout fuckin' me, don' let 'em see.""Quit offering, I will shoot anyone who touches you, Jackie."The boy narrowed his eyes."Your middle name's Jackson, right?""...."Jason knew that street kids would never believe in getting something for nothing, unless it was more obviously charity than this; sometimes not even then. "Anyway, I know you have no money, and I don't put up with scum who sell or use kids. I used to be a street kid myself - I swore I'd help other kids so they wouldn't be as bad off as I was. If you're so grateful, though, I could use a set of little eyes and ears, someone who can go unnoticed where I can't. You pick up any interesting tidbits, you pass along the info to me. Got it?"Jackson relaxed slightly. "Li'l spy.""If you're up for it.""Yes boss."Jason shifted. It was going to be a long, boring night; he was basically on babysitting duty, since he didn't feel comfortable leaving the troubled teens alone and there was no one else he knew whom they'd tolerate keeping an eye on them. "You want some real food? Couldn't offer it earlier, I know Pete would've thrown a fit that he can't have any." Jackson frowned again. "Peter," Jason clarified, pointing. "That's his middle name. And zombie over there is John."Jackson turned his frown onto his brothers and made chirping and cawing sounds. John twitched, but otherwise didn't react."Oi," Jason asked curiously as he went to the kitchen, "is that a language? All the bird sounds. Are you just twittering for the heck of it, or are you actually saying stuff?"Jackson didn't answer, instead starting to get to his feet, brought up short by John's fist tightening in his shirt, and sinking back down again in resignation. "Whatchu makin'?""Just pasta. Quick and easy."Jason got busy with his task, and calling across half the house was kind of a pain, so he didn't speak again until he came over to serve the meal. He handed the heartier serving to Jackson, who wolfed it down, and the plainer pasta to John, who ignored it."Come on, buddy," Jason coaxed. "I mashed it up so it'll be easier on your stomach. Just a few bites."Jackson, watching keenly, smacked Jason's hand away before it reached John's face, but then he took up the bowl and started to spoon bites into John's mouth himself, coaxing in bird language. John's mouth and throat worked very slowly, his eyes distant for a minute. Then his focus sharpened a little and, though he made no move to feed himself, he was a little more cooperative in accepting what his little brother offered.Jason felt weird as he watched. In a way, this was him and his own brothers, a faint creepy resemblance paired with jarring differences. He would never cuddle in a pile like this with Dick and Tim. He had never imagined that vivacious, sunny Dick could be so shattered, or that aristocratic, aloof Tim could be so street-hardened and mother-henning all at once. John acted like a telepath had broken his mind; Jackson like he'd been ground into the cracks in the pavement of Gotham's dark streets; Peter, whimpering in his sleep, like he'd gone feral. Jason had experienced his own share of suffering, but his family and his future...they looked weirdly bright compared to the devastated young lives before him.An hour later, Jason was working on his laptop when his younger self awakened with a chilling scream. Jackson tried to soothe him, but Peter kept screaming, and Jason went over to try his hand. Peter seemed to relax at his touch and actually leaned into him, but then Jason noticed that John, although still staring into space, had silent tears streaming down his cheeks and was shaking, breath coming in gasps. "Aw, crap. Johnny, hey, nothing's wrong, Pete just had a nightmare."There was no response.Jackson glared at Jason and ordered with his hands, "Look away."Jason obeyed, still cradling Peter, who had nestled into him like a (very large) puppy. He peeked out of the corner of his eye and saw Jackson pressing against his older brother, crooning. After a moment, John's resistance broke and he collapsed onto his back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Jackson carefully lay on him, heartbeat to heartbeat and palms to palms. He nuzzled his face into John's neck, still making those soothing bird noises. After several long minutes, John finally relaxed, eyes drifting shut.Jackson exhaled softly, then glanced at Jason and realized that the vigilante was now staring at him openly. He leaped up and back with a hiss. "We're not fuckin'!""I know. It's fine. He was having a panic attack, you know how to calm him down."Jackson stared at him warily, like he wasn't used to people not automatically making dirty assumptions."You did good."After a minute, Jackson plopped down on the floor and muttered something in bird language. Peter popped out of Jason's lap and romped over to his younger brother, grabbing him and manhandling him in a worried inspection. Jackson looked too tired to resist. They twittered back and forth for a long time, almost half an hour, before Jackson drifted to sleep with his head pillowed on Peter's leg.Peter looked up at Jason and motioned proudly, not in ASL but in gestures that reminded Jason of the way Cass 'spoke' most naturally, "Mine, my treasure; isn't he wonderful?""He's pretty amazing, surviving everything he did." And then, because any Jason Todd from any universe could use all the encouragement he could get, "You're amazing, too, Jay."Peter studied him thoughtfully. "We in small bad places; you out? Safe??""You're never going back to Arkham again. We just want to help you guys.""Good you, I don't know why." Peter turned his attention back to his sleeping little brother, and Jason resumed working.TBCA/N: I'm sorry for the delay.... I have been working on this fic a little bit at a time every day during my breaks at work, but I was having so many digital issues and real life stuff going on that it took aaaaaaaaaalllllllll this time for me to have a chance to get the drafts off my tablet and onto a reliable computer to work on. (I have an appointment this weekend with a specialist to recover all the data on one of my flash drives. I think my USB hub needs to be replaced, it's old and I should have thought to buy a new one when I bought new flash drives a couple of weeks ago.) The main story is still on hiatus, because things are so crazy and I've been stressed and frustrated.

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The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlAlternate route: Never Adopted - Part 4 (rough draft)*STILL NO ITALICS*, but hopefully that issue will be fixed by the next update.o.o.oPeter soon got bored. After watching Jason curiously for a while, he said something thick and garbled."Sorry, mini me, I can't understand you. I got something you can try, though." He started teaching the teen ASL, and the Peter took to it with delight. He practiced even after Jason got too tired to keep teaching and took a nap.The vigilante was awakened when his phone alerted him to the movement of the birds' trackers, and opened his eyes to find Jackson heading for the bathroom with John hanging onto his shirt. Peter veered off to the kitchen, grabbed a can of green beans from a cabinet, and started pounding on the lid with a spoon. Jason, not wanting to fight him over it, took different cans out of the cabinets and warmed up the contents for breakfast. Peter abandoned his own project and eagerly tried to scoop bits of food out of the pot.Jason wrinkled his nose at the boy's smell. "Pete, did you just pee your pants?"Peter went still. He looked down at himself as if only just noticing what he had done, then at the bathroom door his brothers were emerging from. His face went red and stricken."It's okay, Jay," Jason said, as gently as he could when he was internally raging at his younger self's former 'caretakers.' "No big deal, I have more clothes. Sort of. More boxers in the package, anyway; I gotta get you guys some pants."Peter was quiet and subdued in the bathroom while Jason helped him rinse off. He acted at first like he expected to be changed into fresh clothes like a baby, but when Jason stepped back after handing him a clean shirt and new set of boxers, Peter hesitated. Slowly, as if exercising a long-dormant skill, he fumbled with the cloth until he'd managed to get himself dressed. He looked at his older self anxiously.Jason made sure he already had an encouraging smile on his face. "Awesome job. You got this."Peter giggled uncertainly."Now let's go get breakfast.""BBEKKFFFSS!" Peter bellowed as he ran to the kitchen.Jackson, who'd been digging in a lower cabinet at the far end of the kitchen, backed away with a guilty look on his face. Jason ignored him in favor of guarding the food (soft and mushy for the sake of the older boys' stomachs) from Peter until he'd gotten it properly in bowls. Peter fell upon his share instantly, shoving as much into his mouth as would fit, and an exasperated Jason had to pull it away again and dole it out bit by bit.Jackson was wolfing his breakfast as well, with a grim, distant look on his face that suggested he didn't like it but had learned to never waste nutrients. John seemed more interested in hanging onto his brothers than eating.Once Peter had calmed down, Jason turned his attention to coaxing the oldest bird into swallowing bites. Peter hovered nearby and seemed torn between compulsively eating the food still left on the table and knowing that it was meant for someone he loved who needed it more. He compromised by slipping small bits into his mouth in between his own twittered coaxing and offered morsels.John endured being fed for a few minutes. Then, apparently reaching his limit, he shoved away the next offered bite, smacked the bowl halfway across the room, violently upended the table and kicked his chair away, then seized his brothers and forcibly retreated with them into a corner. Jackson whistled a single inquiring note, and John burst into world-drowning screams, eyes squeezed shut. His brothers both covered their ears with their hands and hunkered down, prepared to wait it out, and Jason contemplated looking for headphones as he cleaned up. John screamed for five minutes straight and then slumped down, dead to the world, eyes half-closed and fists still clenched in his brothers' shirts.An hour passed, during which Jason set up a cartoon on his tablet for the younger birds and then snatched another nap. He awakened to twittering sounds, Jackson and Peter bird-speaking and signing to John, who finally seemed present, but tired and uninterested in getting up, letting go, or responding."How are we doing?" Jason asked wearily as he approached. Tim had texted him, saying that Bruce had calmed down a bit and that Dick was impatient to meet the birds, particularly his younger self. Jason was so tired that he was seriously considering letting Dick have a babysitting turn, or maybe Cass if John turned out to hate his older counterpart as much as Jackson did. Jason wanted to help the lost little teenagers, but the current arrangement was not sustainable long-term, and he didn't have much idea how he was going to get the boys into the care of people both he and they trusted."Go outside?" Jackson asked in a testing sort of way."I don't think that's a good idea, Jackster. Maybe tonight, after sundown.""Batman?""He's keeping his distance. I won't let him near you if you don't want to see him.""...[chirp-chirp] broken.""What?""[chirp-chirp]." Jackson indicated his brother. "Broken. Wasn' like this before."Jason mentally filed away the fact that the boys apparently had bird names for each other. Maybe 'Warble' really had been Jackson's. "Yeah, well...seven years in Arkham after however long being tortured by Bat-Joker'll do that to you.""I take 'em. Outta your hair."Jason deliberately showed no reaction, even though he felt an internal spike of panic at the suggestion that Jackson wanted to vanish into the depths of Gotham with his brothers. "You guys aren't in my hair, don't worry. I want to make sure you're looked after, real food and warm beds, all that. I don't like seeing kids sleep on the street."Jackson sighed a little and turned away. He tugged John to his feet so he could look around the house with his brother drifting in his wake, resigned to the fact that he was not allowed to leave John's side. Peter, constantly stopped short by the hand fisted in his shirt, complained about it more than the youngest bird did, but didn't fight it too hard. John didn't seem to give a flip about what was going on around him as long as he had tangible reassurance that his brothers were nearby.At about midmorning, a knock on the door sent the younger boys scurrying for hiding places and John curling into a ball. Jason let in Leslie and called to the boys, "Guys, it's okay, it's just my friend Leslie."Jack cautiously peered out. "...Doc?"She smiled. "Hello, honey. It's good to see you again." At Jason's questioning look, she explained, "He's been to the clinic a couple of times. I didn't know his name until now.""Why you here?" Jackson demanded."Tim, you've been virtually living on the streets for two years, and your brothers haven't been taken care of very well. I would like to see if there's anything I can do to help you."Jackson had gone very still. "My name Tim," he said softly."Yes, I'll call you that if you like."Since Jackson was still wary and Peter seemed agitated at the arrival of a stranger, Leslie examined John first, with both his brothers watching closely. John lay like a doll, eyes empty as Leslie worked. He wouldn't follow any instructions, even ones as simple as drawing in a deep breath, but she did her best.Since John still wouldn't cooperate when it was time to get a urine sample, Jason had the extremely awkward job of holding the sixteen-year-old over the toilet, though Leslie's gentle but entirely businesslike manner helped a bit. "Bruce and I will both do our own analyses," she said as Jason worked John's boxers back on. "Poor thing," she added in a murmur, lightly running her fingertips through the teen's hair. He blinked slowly and turned his face slightly toward her hand, so she scratched gently at his scalp.Jason finished safety-pinning the waistband snug around John's narrow figure, then exhaled and braced his fists on the sink, glad that the boy was still wearing his shirt and didn't need to be dressed in that, too. Jason looked up at the younger boys, who were still watching intently. "You guys can pee in a cup without help, right?""Pee in cup," Jackson signed warily."Yeah, so we can see what they drugged up Pete and Johnny on, and if any of you guys have diseases or deficiencies and stuff."The boys twittered to each other for a few minutes. Then Peter huffed and signed at Jason, "Food.""If you're good for Leslie, you'll get more food."Peter grumbled, but warily submitted. He insisted on staying in Jason's lap and clung to him, more and more fearfully as the exam went on. "Sshh, it's okay, Pete, she's not gonna hurt you...we're trying to help, I won't let anyone hurt you...." Peter ended the urine sample gathering by suddenly nudging his member askew, and laughed hysterically when a streak of yellow sprayed across the doctor's clothes."Are you FIVE??" Jason screeched, mortified."We got what we needed," Leslie huffed. Irritation, disgust, and fond amusement were all warring on her face. "And you've always been a rascal, Jason, I don't know why you're so surprised."Jackson, seeing that nothing bad had happened with his brothers, sighed and grudgingly cooperated with his own exam."You need to see a dentist, honey," Leslie murmured as she peered into his mouth.When she was done, Jason fed everyone yet again, including Peter who had already gotten his reward soup.Leslie refused, however, explaining that she was needed back at the clinic. Jason got the boys set up with the most harmless Disney movie in his library and then gently backed away. He'd already ordered some much-needed groceries and just needed to go pick them up from the store three blocks away. He wouldn't be gone long at all; hopefully the birds wouldn't even notice he'd left.The universe had never been kind to Jason Todd. When he came hurrying back through the front door ten minutes later, it was to find the TV unplugged and the house completely empty. The boys' trail ended in an alley where their abandoned clothes, and the trackers hidden inside, had been dumped in a heap.The Bats set facial recognition software running and kept a close eye on Penguin and the public library. They almost caught Jackson once, when he came in to use a computer. He managed to elude them and escape, and then seemingly vanished into the bowels of Gotham for weeks.o.o.o.o.oHe'd lost them. He'd lost them. After so many years and so much suffering, missing them so much because they and [trill] were the only people who had ever loved him...Tim had FINALLY found his flockmates again, his true family.And then he'd fucking LOST THEM.He'd tried. He'd tried so hard, he'd done the best he could: escaped the Bats, found an attic to keep his flockmates in, clothes and blankets, a metal bucket for a little fire on cold nights, as much food as he could beg, earn, or steal. He'd faithfully fed and cleaned [chirp-chirp], who'd once shielded him from so much pain and was now broken and heart-dead. [chirp-chirp] might never come back to life again, but Tim owed him, and tended to him without complaint.He'd had more trouble with [caw], who did not want to stay in the boring attic even though it wasn't safe outside. Tim had brought him picture books and puzzles, treats and magazines, anything to keep him occupied, but it hadn't been enough. [caw] and [chirp-chirp] had flown away, and Tim was alone again, and he cried there for a long time in the empty nest because he was so tired, and no matter how hard he tried, he would never, ever be good enough for anyone to stay with him and love him.Stupid failures like him deserved to be alone.TBCA/N: *bursts out of the storm with fisted hands and determined face* SO. Writing has been on the backburner for a while, but it looks like things are finally starting to settle down. The so-called "specialist" was useless (they wanted to charge me $450 for a completely overkill solution), but by the grace of God, I did end up figuring out how to recover the data myself (there is absolutely nothing wrong with my flash drive, it's brand new, and the actual fix was super-easy; I just needed to recover my data before fixing the drive). I now have a lot of files to sort through, but I can be working on that in the background, it's not hindering me from doing much anymore. Also, it finally occurred to me to look up something regarding a minor but annoying problem with my computer, and I found a Troubleshooter that fixed it instantly, so I can finally settle into my new computer. :) I'll hopefully get MS Word installed by this weekend at the latest, hopefully earlier. Once that's done, it'll be much easier to check word counts, and I'll finally be able to spellcheck my stories again!! 8D

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The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlAlternate route: Never Adopted - Part 5 (rough draft)**STILL NO ITALICS, SORRY. DX**o.o.oThey 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 suspicious 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.oThe 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 contemptuously 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.oSelina'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.oLess 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.TBCA/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.Free time? What's that? X'''DStill haven't gotten around to installing MS Word, though I've settled into my new computer! The good news is that my new laptop is so freaking light, I can actually take it to work with me every day and get some real writing done!! 30-40 minutes isn't as long as it sounds, but at least it's something! Been chipping away at this, at a "What if Tim really did take Riku home to live in his attic?" alternate scenario for Breezy of our KH/Batfam crossover, and typing super-old drafts from my notebooks. Been unearthing some HTTYD WIPs. *nostalgia + more rage about how much the third movie sucked (the more I think about HTTYD3, the less I like it. X''''D Sorely tempted to write a fix-it once the DVD comes out)*Anyway. Sorry for the delay on...everything. I don't know when it will get better, but I am trying my best! I miss my old fifteen-minute commute and three-day weekends so freaking much.... I now only have one real free day a week, but there are so many other demands on my time besides just writing. orz My time management has been improving a bit, but I'm still far from mastering it.

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The Birds Who Smile, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girlAlternate route: Never Adopted - Part 6 (rough draft)**STILL NO ITALICS.** I don't even know where my MS Word card is anymore. X''D It's not lost, I'll unearth it eventually, I just temporarily lost track of it because I still haven't found the time to install it....o.o.oFirst thing was to get a blood sample, of course. Ivy cleaned the crook of the boy's arm and thoroughly kissed the skin to numb it, none of which he reacted to in any way. The needle, however, incited a worse reaction than Ivy had expected. It was nothing overt, but attuned to organisms the way she was, she noticed at once the way he stiffened when the instrument came into view, and then the way his body seemed to no longer have conscious life in it when the needle was inserted."I'm not going to hurt you, love," she whispered, suddenly angry about what must have been done to this boy that he would go to such lengths to escape a routine, painless procedure. "It's just for a moment, then you'll be all done."She removed the needle, applied a bandage to the tiny puncture wound, then, hesitantly, not knowing what else to do, kissed the boy's cheek, this time with a variant of the chemical that made people love her.Ethical or not, it worked. After a moment, he blinked and came back to himself, his lips curving in a surprisingly sweet smile. Although he said nothing and made no move toward her, he gazed at her lovingly as she took his blood sample over to her equipment and started analyzing it.The euphoria had been purposefully mild, and once it had worn off after about an hour, he curled up and fell asleep. Ivy paused her work to find a blanket to lay over him.Late in the afternoon, when the boy had awakened again and was drifting curiously around Ivy's lab/home, particularly drawn to the most colorful flowers, the door crashed open. "Pammyyyyy!""Harley?""CROW!!!" The creature slouching with the hyenas suddenly bounded across the room, flinging itself at Ivy's boy while making loud bird noises. Ivy started to move to rescue her new pet, but stopped when she realized that it wasn't an attack. Both teenagers had their arms tight around each other, Ivy's with tears streaming down his face as he twittered melodiously in tandem with the other boy."They know each other," Ivy realized."Aw, cute!" Harley cooed. "Fido found a friend! I didn't know ya had one, too, Red."Her boy, still with an arm around Ivy's, turned and made excited noises that, except for the chirping, sounded like they were meant to be human speech, but were too garbled to understand."Sorry, sweetheart, can't understand ya," Harley said, moving her hands in what must have been sign language.'Fido' enthusiastically patted his companion and then, still making chirping sounds with his face alight, made sweeping motions toward his chest as if to say, "MINE, he's mine, I'm so happy!!"The other boy had settled into a series of cawing sounds, nuzzling into his friend with arms still tight around him and fingers gripping tightly. "[caw], [caw], [caw]....""Okay, well, ya got any food for Caw and Chirpy 'round here, Red?"The boys were soon settled at the table. Chirp showed no interest in the food, instead cramming himself into his companion's chair and perching rigidly with arms locked tight around him and face buried in his shoulder. Caw looked extremely happy, wolfing down all the produce set in front of him (Ivy realized quickly that she had to remove the less edible parts, otherwise he'd eat the seeds, peels, and cores, too), occasionally tapping his palm against the other boy's arm as if reassuring himself that his friend was still nearby."So ya know 'food' and 'hungry,' but not much else?" Harley tried to figure out. "Here, kiddo; ya wanna apple--" she made the sign and indicated the fruit a few times, "--or an' orange?"Caw eagerly made both signs, and Harley laughed.That evening, the boys slept curled up with Bud and Lou as Ivy tended to her gardens and Harley sat with a laptop and piles of papers and books at the table, complaining about how much her research felt like homework, "Which isn' fair 'cause I ain't in school!!"Clattering footsteps sounded in the hall, then the door was thrust open. "Gangsters suck," Selina announced."Kitty~!""You found another one?" Ivy remarked, observing the sullen boy at Catwoman's side who had the same post-Jokerization features and slightly pointed ears as the two young men currently sleeping with the hyenas."Wait, that's what you were talking about?" Selina exclaimed, staring at the huddle of bodies. "We found ALL of the--?! Oh my God, Harley; a dog bed? Seriously?""They didn't want the real bed!"There was a gasp. The thirteen-year-old at Selina's side had stiffened in shock. "crow?" he ventured, eyes glistening.Two heads popped up from the tangle of bodies in the corner. Then the three teens rushed at each other, meeting in the middle of the room, the youngest boy sobbing as the older two crooned soothingly at him. The twittering went on and on and on, Chirp looking more awake and active than Ivy had yet seen him."Um," Selina said.Ivy narrowed her eyes. "What is it?""So. These are actually. Bat boys.""No!" Harley gasped, as if her friend had just said something highly offensive."I told you on the phone, Harl," Selina said in exasperation. She glanced at Ivy again. "So what we've actually got here are baby Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin from a nightmare alternate universe."Ivy stared at the boys, feeling mildly betrayed, though a second later her heart was softening as she watched them. The youngest Robin had been borne away to the dog bed where he was huddled, sniffling, with his oldest brother grooming his hair and the other brother romping over with all the food he could carry, allowing the hyenas to steal bits of it as he offered the rest to the newcomer. There was an ease and deep affection between them that Ivy rarely saw in the real Bats. Selina said they were less guarded at home, though even then, there were plenty of squabbles and emotional dysfunction."How come they haven't showed up in tights yet?" Harley asked, going over to inspect the mask-shaped scars on the older boys' faces more closely."B didn't know about them until recently. Apparently John and Peter - the older ones - have been rotting in Kiddie Arkham for years, and Jackson was in foster 'care' for a while before running to the streets. They've been here, and no one knew. B tried to take charge as soon as he did, but they're slippery little things.""Guess ya really are Bats," Harley remarked, playfully twirling Peter's hair.Jackson batted her hand away and hissed, "Don' touch 'em.""Ooohh, this one talks!""Fuck off, bitch!""An' dirty, too. Watch out, brat, talk that way 'bout a lady again an' I'm breakin' out some soap fer that mouth."Chirp laid a hand on his youngest brother's head and lifted his other arm in a mild warding gesture toward Harley. He rose to his feet and pushed his crossed arms against her, politely but firmly, until she started backing away. He smiled a sweetly apologetic smile at her before returning to the dog nest and crooning at his agitated brother."Yep, that's Nightwing all right.""So, what, we're supposed to just hand them over to the Bat?" Ivy said.Jackson heard her. He jumped to his feet and shouted, "You give us t' Bat I KILL YOU!!""Rawr!" Peter yelled in support, jumping up beside him. Chirp stood up again, too, milder but obviously on his brothers' side."No," Selina answered her friend, gesturing toward the boys, "because of that. They hate the Bats, but there's nowhere else to take them, so I don't know what to do.""We can adopt them!""No, Harley!""Not, like, with paperwork an' stuff; just keep 'em here and feed 'em and love 'em.""That's even worse! They're human beings, not stray dogs.""They are strays, no one wants 'em 'cept the creep who scares 'em to death. Ya think the three of us are worse'n Arkham or the streets?"Jackson, tensely watching the women, signed, "Batman kill children, I want die.""What did he say?" Ivy asked.Selina knew a bit of ASL but wasn't fluent, particularly when the signer himself hadn't learned the language properly. "I'm pretty sure I misunderstood.""We're not givin' ya to Batman, hon," Harley said decisively. "He's too scary for sweet little birdies like you. You can live here with your new aunties!""Good food here," [caw] twittered. "Nice mamas.""...I'm tired," [warble] whimpered. He flopped down and lay against Lou's side, arms away from his body and throat stretched out.[chirp-chirp] knelt and leaned over his flockmate's body to shield his neck and chest. "I will guard you," the pose said."I sleep you guard, you sleep I guard," [caw] said. The tone added an implied, "Just like we always do." He smiled. "Now that we are together."Selina threw up her hands. "You know what, I'm too tired to care. I'm going to bed.""Why, yes, Selina, I'd be happy to let you spend the night in my home," Ivy said pointedly.Selina shot her a mischievous grin as she headed toward the bathroom. "Thanks.""Whoo, slumber party!" Harley cheered.Ivy rolled her eyes and got back to work.o.o.o.o.oYou can call off the search. Don't stalk me or you'll scare them off again.Tim stared at the text, his body very still as his mind raced. 'She found them. Why did she only tell me and Jason? Because Bruce will freak out, and Dick won't think to keep it secret. Where are they? Can't be her usual place, it got trashed last night. Gotta start checking security feeds for the other--'Jason burst into his room, still in the boxer shorts he'd probably slept in. "What's the plan?" he demanded."You and Cass go, once I figure out the location," Tim said, not even realizing before he spoke that his subconscious mind had apparently already started work on a plan. "You've got a rapport with them, and Cass can help monitor the situation. Wait 'til Little Me's asleep or something, though; he keeps tabs on both versions of us, he'll be suspicious if he sees you and try to bolt again. Keep it mostly recon, we won't know the best course of action 'til we know what frame of mind they're in and what sort of setup Selina's got.""Cool. I'm gonna go put some clothes on.""Please."TBCA/N: Next chapter will have a time skip, it does not pick up straight after this one.*rambling you can skip* I'm still struggling with time management.... I have two 40-minute blocks of time per week dedicated to drafting (the other three blocks are reserved for editing [right now it's the main TBWS story], typing [I've got roughly a decade's worth of handwritten fanfiction that needs to be digitized], and reviewing other people's fics and art [I really fell behind]). It's not enough, but until I manage to clear my house, it looks like that's all I have for now. You'd think that a clutter-hating minimalist like me wouldn't have so much junk, but it's unbelievable how many things I keep finding that I have to sort through! At the current moment, it's papers. I only have about a foot and a half of space (lengthwise) to store papers in, and more papers than will fit; the excess is literally lying on my living room floor right now. So I'm having to both weed out already-processed papers to recycle and shred, and also deal with a box of unsorted papers (some of which are important and which I should have dealt with weeks ago) that never seems to get any emptier no matter how much I work on it. DX Where the heck do all these papers keep coming from?!

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate route: Never Adopted - Part 7 (rough draft)
 What had started out as a temporary arrangement stretched out to weeks, then months. Selina added Ivy's lab to her circuit of homes, and visited at least once a week even if she didn't spend the night. Harley went from treating the lab as a home base to more of an actual home. Ivy started to realize that children, even half-grown ones, needed more attention and supervision than plants did, and found that the time spent away from her work - feeding, refereeing, talking, and the like - wasn't as unpleasant as expected. They got a lot of visitors, all of them dressing and talking like they were just family friends and not being paid with Wayne money behind the scenes. Phillip had long conversations with each boy, some of them ending in tears or anger, others in breakthroughs and relief, all supplementing Harley's own informal therapy sessions. Jane, so bubbly and energetic, always brought lots of games and books. John started to hide whenever she arrived because her activities tended to make his brain hurt, but Peter and Jackson came to eagerly look forward to her visits. Tina with the enthusiastic hands almost never spoke with her mouth at all, and all three boys soaked up her signing lessons like sponges. And then there were the regular visits to Dr. Thompkins, the exams and the prescribed medication that the birds only trusted when they were administered with Ivy's hand. Their faces weren't so pale anymore, their ears not quite so pointed. Jackson cried the day he looked in a mirror and realized he wasn't Smiling even a tiny bit. Months later, Peter noticed his own reflection and shrieked with joy, mouth spread in a way that was now entirely natural and not stiff at all. John showed no reaction even when he finally noticed that he looked a little less like the Laughing Bat's bird than he did before. There were other visitors, too, ones who were certainly not being paid with Wayne money. The first time Penguin showed up, Jackson clung tight to his brothers and waited to be ripped away from them. Ivy stood in front of her little ones and gave Penguin a look like thunder, plants breaking through the floor and threatening to pull down the ceiling. Penguin backed away and never returned. There were men and women who would admire Selina's pretty things with her, then take them away after leaving even prettier things in exchange. There was a strange-smelling man in a green robe who came to talk to Ivy for a while. He didn't look at the boys until the end, when he saw Jackson and paused as he was walking toward the door. He held Jackson's chin to inspect his face; Jackson bit him. The man raised his hand to strike, and this time Peter bit him before he could. Then Selina was there, sliding her body between Ra's al Ghul and her boys, talking so sweetly, and then he left. They all, even the gardens, moved to another home that night. There were groups of motley people, sometimes with animals. They would flock in and eat a lot and talk even more, sometimes until Ivy got angry and kicked them out. Harley would usually go with them. She'd come back in a few days, maybe a week, and kiss her boys and tell them they'd been good. Once, she took Peter with her. John cried and went catatonic and threw tantrums the entire night he was gone; Jackson covered his ears with headphones and curled up in a corner with his laptop. Their relief was palpable when their flockmate finally came galloping back, but he was so excited telling them about his adventures ("Laugh Mama gave me a loud thing gg'unn, FUN I like it~!") that they got annoyed with him for enjoying his time away from them. "I love [chirp-chirp] and [warble] more than gg'unn," [caw] crooned ingratiatingly. "Mad at you," [warble] pouted in response. [chirp-chirp] said nothing, but lay right on top of his flockmate that night in a "You belong to me stay HERE" announcement. [caw] accepted it quietly, but that didn't stop him from romping off with Harley on her next adventure. Jackson, meanwhile, had found his life's work. He spent long hours in his corner, eyes intent on the screen of his computer and fingers often flying across the keys. The more he learned, the more he found there was to learn. Selina was a little surprised when her youngest sort-of son started coming to her with sources or information related to particular pieces she was trying to track down, or people who could facilitate the restoration of stolen national treasures. Harley's expeditions started running more smoothly the more she relied on Jackson's intel, particularly when the boy got fed up with her risky improvising and started providing her with detailed plans and contingencies. "Batman," Oracle noted at one point. There was a grunt of acknowledgment. "You remember that amateur hacker from a few years ago, dragonbird? He's back." "And?" Batman prompted impatiently. dragonbird had been creative but unskilled, easily shut down by Oracle and then vanishing entirely. "And he doesn't suck anymore. It took me ten minutes just to figure out what he'd done to that Trojan so I could neutralize it." 
"...Have you traced him?"
 "According this, dragonbird is working from Brucie Wayne's work computer." 
"What."
 "Obviously he's using that as a cover, but we're the only people who would have had the access to do that. Side-note, guess who tagged along with Ivy - Pamela, sorry - when she came in last week to give her presentation?" Of course Bruce had known whenever any of his children, including the self-exiled birds, set foot on his property. He just hadn't realized that Jackson had somehow gotten access to his work computer. ...Tim had had it with him at the presentation. Checking the security video on the Batcomputer that night confirmed that Tim had been showing his unusually friendly younger self something on that computer after the meeting, and had turned away for a minute to respond to something a coworker had asked him. Jackson hadn't even looked away from the screen, just moved his hand from his pocket to the computer and then, ten seconds later, back again, just before Tim returned his attention to the bird. 'Son of a....' After that, Bruce, Barbara, and Tim kept a close eye on dragonbird, intervening only when necessary. Jackson had learned a lot during his hiatus. The Bats could still shut him down easily, but the boy's potential as a programmer and hacker was breathtaking. Bruce, hesitant but curious and proud, eventually gave in to the temptation to pay his youngest bird's way through an advanced coding class that taught much more than the free online courses he'd been using before. "Bruce, seriously?" Barbara said in exasperation a few months later when dragonbird's work became more disruptive. "...It was, admittedly, impressive," Bruce mumbled. Tim, working on a different computer to undo the damage, rolled his eyes. "I can't decide whether to keep being mad at you or take that as a compliment." o.o.o.o.o [chirp-chirp] was angry. Nobody loved him or wanted him. Cat Mama was gone, [warble] said whenever she wasn't home it meant she was in Bat's bed. [chirp-chirp] didn't know why [warble] was always so angry about that, because it was brave and good and sad for Cat Mama to go be Bat's toy so little birds didn't have to. Cat Mama was good for leaving, but everyone else was not. Laugh Mama and the Laughing Dogs had gone because she was bored and didn't like to stay stay stay in the home-nest, and [caw] was the same, he kept going with her. He was with her now. Plant Mama was playing with her Greens that she loved more than birds, the MUST kind of playing where she stayed up all night and didn't eat and didn't sleep because she wanted to Finish. [warble] was the same, except it was with his 'laptop' instead of Greens. Both of them said "Leave me alone" when he went to them, and pushed him away when he didn't. So [chirp-chirp] was all all all ALONE except for the cats, and cats were soft and warm and good but they didn't always want to love or play with [chirp-chirp], and it was quiet and boring and no one loved him and he was angry. So he went to go be Alone for real instead of alone in his home, because being alone with flockmates nearby hurt worse. He went in the dark and the noise and the bad smells, but it was pretty, too, bright lights lights lights and colors in the darkness. Sometimes music. "Hello, handsome." Pretty ladies. They smelled bad with the smoke but they were covered all over with sparkles and colors and very good things like that. The one with puffy soft feathers all around her neck and hanging down her body like tails let him play with them soft good pretty for a while. Then they all went stiff and afraid. "~~, kid," one of them hissed. He heard a car slowing instead of whooshing past, but then they were all pushing him away, and when he wouldn't go, one of them yanked hard and hurt his wing, pushing him deep into the dark. "STAY," she ordered. Then she pranced back out into the color light again. He watched, and now he knew why they chased little birds away, because bats had come. Not Him-Bat or Them-Bats, but still bats, looking out of the car and crooning sounds that said "Come with us (entice/hard/dark)." The ladies twittered back, "(Fake)happy coy (fake)love-you (scared)," then two of them climbed into the car and it drove away. The ones who were left drifted down the street again, relieved and angry and disappointed all at the same time. [chirp-chirp] didn't understand, it all scared him a little, so he went away. People on the street tried to hunt him, so he climbed up on the roofs, where it was quieter and safer. He watched the lights for a long time, then he realized he was cold. He went to another roof, and another, and he found a blanket, but when he tried to pick it up, it moved and was warm and grumbled at him. There was a person under it already. So [chirp-chirp] went to the next roof, and then he heard a dog crying. He looked down. Down down in the dark, a man was hitting a dog. [chirp-chirp] pushed the thing next to him, it was heavy and full of dirt like Plant Mama's gardens, but there was no plant. The heavy thing finally fell. It hit the ground and burst, and the man yelled at [chirp-chirp]. BANG! [chirp-chirp] covered his ears, they hurt because it was so LOUD. A gun, like [caw]'s new toy that he liked?? BANG! Then a black-and-blue thing swooped, a Bat. [chirp-chirp] was supposed to run away from Bats, but this was not Him-Bat. It was so beautiful that [chirp-chirp] wanted to keep looking, so he did. Blue wings in the dark, a body that fought like dancing. Then quiet, and quiet, and quiet. Two eyes, spots of white in the black. After a long time, "Johnny." "It is good to run away from Bats," [chirp-chirp] said, but still he didn't run. 
whooosh
 Not-wings in the dark, black-and-blue not-shadow flying up to the roof, not close. Then watching again, the bird and the Bat. Nigh'wing. The one [warble] said loved Batman and gave himself to Bat on purpose, but even if he did that far away in that bad dark house and cave, he wasn't doing it now. He was looking like [chirp-chirp] was very interesting and important to be kept safe. "...What ~~ you doing ~~ here ~~ alone, Johnny?" 
"Blue Bat is alone? Master follow?"
 Quiet, and quiet. Blue Bat got bored, he flipped his body the other way, walked on his hands. ..........[chirp-chirp] used to do that. A long, long, long time ago. ..........Not [chirp-chirp]. Little dead boy Dickie Robin, he did that, when he wasn't [chirp-chirp] yet. Dick was dead but he was still inside [chirp-chirp], he could walk on his hands so maybe [chirp-chirp] still could, too. He went down, hands and head down, feet up. Too much; his feet went too far, he fell. But he felt now where he was supposed to balance, and he tried again, and then he felt Blue Bat's hands - light, light, just a nudge at his legs to say, "Right here, that's good, no farther." He fell again when he tried to walk. This time when he dropped down to his hands, Blue Bat's hands on his legs said, "Not so far this time, I'll help; walk half first, then straight still, then walk full." There. There it was, [chirp-chirp] was walking on his hands and it felt so good he laughed, and fell again. Blue Bat was laughing, too. Arms came around him and suddenly [chirp-chirp] was scared, not of Blue Bat but because he was alone with no flockmates to tell him if there was danger or not. He pushed the arms away and ran. o.o.o.o.o Nightwing tailed his younger self, keeping out of sight, watching John explore the city and quietly intervening whenever anyone started to move threateningly toward the boy. John was attracted to lights and certain kinds of music. He sat for half an hour at the feet of a man with multi-braided hair playing guitar for tips. (Nightwing dropped a bill into the man's hat once John finally moved on.) He spent twenty minutes admiring a blinking neon sign in a store window. He danced to cheer up a little girl who was crying outside a grocery store (Nightwing called the police when he discovered that the child's mother had deliberately abandoned her). At last, Catwoman's frantic voice broke through the comms, and Nightwing reassured everyone that their missing little bird was safe. He watched until John had made it safely home, then returned to a normal patrol, wishing he knew why his younger self had freaked out about the hug. 'I won't let anyone hurt you, Johnny.' TBC

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate route: Never Adopted - Part 8 (rough draft)
 The 'library' was a VERY good place with BOOKS AND BOOKS AND BOOKS and [caw] liked it so so much that now Jane and the mamas took him a lot instead of only when he begged. It was hard to read the books he used to like, he cried when he found Anne of Green Gables and the words swam on the page when he opened it instead of letting him read them. But the book ladies and Jane and the mamas gave him books with voices instead, so he could at least listen to Anne and Narnia and Arrietty and the others even though he couldn't read them. The baby books with the pictures didn't swim so much, especially since Jane started helping him. " 'I'tt wwwas - Mmike Mmuwig'n, an' Mmary A'...an' ssome - odders,' " he read, hard because making mouth-words was so hard now, FUCK Batman, and fuck Arkham!! "...whho d, ddu'ckg da...ggw, ggrrrrea't...ccannnows...ffor da bbi'g...bboats to...ssail....' " There was an R. Yes? Yes, an R. Not t-h-o, t-h-r. " '...ffrrrough...." His mouth hurt, and his head hurt. He pushed the book away and put his head down and covered it with his arms to hide in the dark and rest for a while. Jane went away to get water for him. " ' 'It may perhaps be pleasant,' replied Charlotte, 'to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded.' ' " That was a good voice. [caw] looked up, and there was a big someone there who wasn't before, curled up in the 'bean bag' nest in the corner with Peppa Pig and Cat in the Hat. " ' 'If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark.' ' " Words words words, too many [caw] didn't know, but he liked that voice very much, and now he knew it was Big Jason. [warble] said that Big Jason was a Bat and bad, but [caw] thought he was wrong because he knew Jason was good. [caw] went to go nest with him, and Jason gave him Cat in the Hat to hold. [caw] hugged Cat in the Hat and put his head on Jason's warm chest and good heartbeat and listened to that good voice. Jason held Peppa Pig and the book and then held [caw], too, and he made many words with his good voice. " ' 'We can all begin freely - a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement....' ' " Jason continued to read Pride and Prejudice aloud long after his younger self had fallen asleep. His heart ached a little and he would have liked to take Peter home to the manor when the library closed, but when Selina and Harley walked in with the other birds and Peter woke up, the teen ran to them, calling them 'Mama,' without a backward glance at Jason. Then Jackson hissed at him, the little brat, warning him off, and John was putting up a clingy fuss, and Jason had to stand there and watch Peter walk away without him. He had gained some ground, though. Jane started texting him whenever she planned to take her young charge to the library, and though Peter always ran to the Sirens and his brothers at the end, he clearly enjoyed cuddling with Jason and listening to him read and being helped with his own reading for whatever time Jason managed to steal before that. o.o.o.o.o Peter was recovering nicely and Jack, though still sullen, suspicious, and full of triggers, was slowly getting better as well. John had good days and bad days. Sometimes he'd flit around the lab, play with his brothers, get nosy about his adoptive mothers' business, practice gymnastics (Harley had started taking him to classes, both for exercise and socialization), and nag the family about going out to have fun or people-watch. Other times, he'd sleep or just lie in bed, conscious but motionless, for hours and hours. The record had been two-and-a-half days and two nights, broken only because Harley had forcibly dragged him out of bed and driven him around town on her motorcycle for a while. (He liked the motorcycle. And, as Catwoman discovered after a suggestion from Nightwing, he liked being held by someone who was swinging from rooftop to rooftop.) This was one of the low times. He'd lain down after breakfast and had never gotten up, and now it was long past nightfall and he still lay there, covered with cats. Dusty, lying almost face to face with him, was purring as he slowly scrubbed the very tips of his fingers through her soft gray fur. "Chirp," Ivy said, setting a timer right in front of his eyes, "five minutes." He slowly lifted his free hand and isolated the middle finger. She smiled, relieved to see at least a spark of life. "Timer goes off, you're getting up." Once the five minutes had passed, she returned and sighed when the bed appeared to be empty. She picked up the comforter and shook it to dislodge the cats, then tossed it aside entirely. John, who'd been spread out to minimize his shape under the bulky bedding, now curled up and covered his head. "Tired," he whimpered in bird language. Ivy had learned some of it, finding it easier to pick up than ASL. "You've been in bed for over nine hours. You are not tired. Get up." He started crying as she dragged him to his feet, not with tears but the way animals did, whimpering and keening his misery. Ivy pressed little kisses to his face with very mild doses of her love-me toxin. Selina always took objection when she resorted to that, but she couldn't stand to hear her son's pain and it was the easiest way for her to calm him down. He soon quieted and rested his head against her chest. "Mmama." "Good boy, Chirp," she murmured, and kissed him again, this time cleanly and out of pure affection. "My little rosebud." 
"Tired."
 "Let's go get some ice cream." "...Sweet-cold," he twittered softly, tempted. "With chocolate chips and all the sprinkles you want," she coaxed. "Sss'ppi'kkuh." "That's right, my love." All the nearby ice cream shops were closed by now, so they had to make do with cheap treats out of the freezer bin at a convenience store. Since none of the frozen treats contained both chocolate chips and sprinkles, Ivy bought two, one some sort of cookie blend and the other coated end-to-end with sprinkles. John held that one in both hands and admired it for a while before he let Ivy open it for him. They sat on the roof of the store, John munching on his treats and Ivy gazing at the stars. "Mama," John finally twittered. "What is it, Rosebud?" 
"I am broken."
 "No, darling, you're not." 
"Bat tear out my heart, I am tired and empty."
 Vines grew from her living dress, creeping to John, crawling up his body and blossoming into brightly colored flowers around his neck. He cooed at them in pleasure. "See? You're not empty. Someone who's lost his soul cannot appreciate the beauty of flowers, but you can." 
"Mama."
 "Yes?" 
"I want real Mama and Papa."
 They had had this conversation before. "They are dead, sweetheart. They are never coming back. They loved you, but they are gone, so you have new people to love you now." 
"Bat killed them. I hate him."
 "The Bat who killed them is dead. The Bat here is a different one, and he does not kill people." 
"...Different Bat, yes/no/maybe. Bad Bat. [warble] hates him."
 "Warble thinks this new Bat is still the old bad Bat, but Warble is wrong." 
"Yes/no/maybe. ........Blue Bat. I like him."
 "Yes, you would. He likes you, too." 
"Bats fly and...hurt bad people."
 Ivy eyed him. According to Selina, Dick Grayson had started out as an extremely underage vigilante because he'd adamantly refused all other options. If the desire to physically battle injustice was innate, then the Sirens might have a problem on their hands. "Maybe. But boys like you play and go to school and don't worry about bad people." "Ss'chooo...." John liked school on his good days, but looked slightly conflicted now. "Do you think you'll be able to go to school tomorrow, love?" He ducked his head and took another bite of ice cream. She briefly set a hand on his knee, and he scooted over to snuggle into her side. There was nothing more to say, so they were quiet. o.o.o.o.o Jackson looked up from his computer, suddenly realizing that something was wrong. He frowned, set the device aside, and went to the bathroom, where Selina was sitting on the closed toilet lid with her face in one hand and something small and plastic in the other. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I'm too old for this," she mumbled. "I'm on the Pill. How did this happen?" He looked at the thing in her hand. There were two lines on the tiny display. He looked at the packaging on the floor, then back at his mother. "Baby?" "Don't say it." He had no idea how to comfort her, and thought he probably shouldn't ask why she was sad. (Movies made pregnancy look like a wonderful, exciting thing. The women he'd seen in real life usually looked like their worst nightmare had come to pass. He had never figured out the reason for either reaction.) So he left and then came back with a bottle of wine, since he knew his cat mother sometimes liked to drink when she was feeling down. Selina burst into laughing tears when she saw it. "Fine," he huffed, offended at her laughter and rather dismayed that he'd apparently done something wrong. He put the wine down and left again, and this time came back with Isis. He put the cat into Selina's arms. "Oh, baby," Selina whimpered, hiding her face in the cat's fur. Isis endured it magnanimously. Jackson, feeling useless, went to bury himself in his coding again. He was very surprised and a little relieved when Selina came later and hugged him. "Thank you, Jackie." "You're welcome, Lina," he responded automatically. "Feel better?" "A little." He forgot about the incident for months, until the mamas were dressing up for a night of clubbing and Selina came out of her room with a skimpy top that proudly showed off her baby bump. "Lina!" Jackson screeched. Everyone looked at him in surprise. "Keeping the baby?!" "Yes," Selina said defensively. "I'm fine with it now." "She's gonna be as gorgeous as her mommy and daddy," Harley bragged, patting her friend's round stomach. Jackson was horrified. If Selina had made such a decision, he would have expected her to also make escape plans, but as far as he knew, she hadn't. She was just going to let her baby be born in that hell house and grow up - if it was even allowed to grow up - at the mercy of that sadistic freak. "Why you wasting time?! We got work!" "What work??" "Run away! Save baby! Save YOU!" "Oh dear, it seems our girls' night out has been cut short," Ivy said in fake-dismay, already kicking off her fancy shoes and tossing her clutch purse aside. "I'm going back to work." "No, Pam, wait-- Jack!" Selina cried in exasperation. On the couch, the other boys and the hyenas were watching like it was a sports match. John literally had a bowl of popcorn that he happened to have prepared earlier. "I call Hood, maybe he help; get the flight plans in a minute--" "Jack." Since Harley had gone to try to wheedle Ivy away from the plants, Selina focused on her youngest son, setting her hands on his shoulders. "I am not Bruce's prisoner, and he would never hurt this baby. Jackson, I need you to listen to me." "NO!" he screamed, tears in his eyes, and fled. His brothers immediately rushed after him, and the Sirens' night on the town turned out to consist of tracking down skittish, agitated bird boys before they could get mugged rather than the planned dancing and minor mischief. TBC 
Credits:

Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel

by Virginia Lee Burton

Pride and Prejudice

by Jane Austen
 A/N: This fic is getting hard to write - everything after the library scene felt like pulling teeth, and Selina getting pregnant wasn't even in my notes. X'''D I'm trying to be good and stick with this story, the KH Batfam AUs, and the genderswap, but my muse is now obsessed with Batfam Bingo ._. (Although I've only posted one story for it so far, I've been brainstorming and drafting like crazy for both prompts on my own bingo card and prompts I've found on other people's. [Feel free to direct me to your card if you have one! I'm having fun collecting all the prompts I can find.] My own bingo prompts are here: https://raberbagirl.wordpress.com/indexchallenges/#batfambingo ) Anyway, I can't make any promises about anything, I'm still struggling with time management and my muse is all over the place. orz

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate route: Never Adopted - 31 May 2019 update (very rough draft)
 A/N: ALMOST FORGOT, gonna use this chapter (and, by extension, the "Never Adopted" route as a whole) for the "AU: Different Mentor" Batfam Bingo 2019 square! (Once again, not on my own card. X'''D I swear I have ideas for all the squares on my card, I just happen to keep finishing other ideas first.) o.o.o Helena Magdalene Wayne was born at the manor with the assistance of a midwife; totally healthy, no complications. Selina sent photos to Ivy and Harley, who apparently made the mistake of showing those photos to the boys. Hours later, after receiving a series of frantic text messages, Selina dragged herself out of bed. Bruce was being an overprotective, anxious wreck and wouldn't let go of his newborn daughter until the car stopped down the street from Ivy's lab. Then he changed in less than a minute and was one of the three Bats standing guard from the rooftops as Selina hobbled to the front door with Helena in her arms. "Cat!" Harley greeted anxiously as she flung the door open, too upset to do more than pat the baby's head. "God," Selina groaned. She didn't have to ask where Jackson was, because she could hear his hysterical sobbing and screaming, which soon set off the baby. The boy was on the birds' bed, wrapped in his brothers' arms, carrying on like he was dying of a fatal injury. John and Peter looked upset and frightened as they held him and attempted to soothe him. "He kills her he kills her he kills her...!" Jackson wailed in bird language. Peter brightened when he saw Selina slowly approaching. "Mom, help!" he signed. "[Jack] is angry scared!" "Jack," Selina said. She couldn't even hear herself over the screaming, but Jackson turned his head toward her. Whimpering desperately, he scrambled off the bed and lurched toward her, hands reaching for the baby. "Careful careful careful careful careful careful careful...!" Jackson clung to his little newborn sister, eyes fixed on her, making whining sounds in his throat of sobs he was now too distracted to release. Helena continued to scream her displeasure even though the noise that set her off had stopped. Selina continued to hang on as well, not trusting the distraught teenager to be able to hold the newborn securely. She tugged and shuffled until she'd managed to get the three of them to an easy chair, where she sat and pulled up her shirt. Getting Helena to latch on was tricky, but once the baby started nursing, it worked like magic to calm her down. Jackson crammed himself onto the arm of the chair, leaning right into Selina, legs and arms curved protectively around his little sister. "Be gentle," Selina said firmly as he set a hand on the infant like a shield. 
"Safe little one here safe, no Bats no HIM stay safe here we protect you...."
 John and Peter gathered around on Selina's other side, both of them captivated. " 'Ssa bba'bby!" Peter exclaimed in delight. "A bba'bby!" "That's right. This is your sister, Helena." "Hhewwa," Peter hummed, poking gently at the infant's head. "Bbe'bbe," John cooed. "Small." Ivy had moved up behind Selina and was sending gentle vines down to cradle the baby, unable to reach her otherwise. Harley leaned on John and cooed, petting Helena's scalp with a fingertip, since that was all that would fit between everyone else trying to caress the newborn. "She's fine, Jack," Selina said wearily. "See? She's safe. No one wants to hurt this baby." Jackson sniffled, still crying softly, and didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the child the whole time she was nursing and when she fell asleep afterward. "Pam," Selina said, "I need something clean to lay her down on." The beds here tended to be covered with animal hairs, the boys and Harley weren't super-diligent about bathing, and none of the occupants of this home were good about changing the sheets regularly. Ivy put together a basket with clean blankets from the closet, and Selina carefully laid the baby into it. Jackson wrapped himself around the basket. He would not leave his sister's side, even dragged her basket into the bathroom with him when he needed to pee. After over 24 hours of this, Selina was fed up. "Jackson, I want to go home. I want to be with my husband and my stuff, I want my butler, I don't want to be here. You can come with us if you want, but Helena and I are leaving." "No! No!" "Just try and stop me!" she dared. For a long moment, the boy held his ground. Then, slowly, his body sagged, and something in his face shut down. He held up his middle finger at Selina and then went to play video games. It was nearly two years before Jackson even acknowledged the little girl's existence, another year before he warmed up to her again, and she was four years old when he finally smiled at her, the first sign of affection he'd ever expressed toward his sister since her infancy. xXx 
A/N: I royally screwed up the timeline. I can no longer continue writing the first draft of this story in chronological order, so I'm just going to write the rest of the scenes on my list in a totally random order (except the ending, which will be at the end), and hopefully fix it later.
 xXx He was spinning. The sun was warm and the little human creatures were laughing and the mamas were eating and [caw] and [warble] were safe, so [chirp-chirp] was spinning and spinning and spinning and Laughing, waiting to fall off the edge of the world. 
poof
 [chirp-chirp] stopped spinning, and fell. He stared, because someone had thrown a pretty thing on him, floaty and delicate and pink, with wonderful shiny jingly things dangling all around the edges. He cooed and pushed at the pink, feeling it slide smooth and pretty past his talons. He jerked his wings up and down to make the shiny things chime and sing. Then he stood up and twirled, watching the sun shine down pink through the thing, watching the jingly things flash and cry their joy. Someone else was twirling, too. A big person but not really big, thin and graceful, dancing just like Shiny-Red-Gold-Dancer-Whose-Name-He-Forgot at the circus. Wearing blue and white instead of red and gold, but just as graceful, telling a story with her body. 
"Found a treasure, lost it, miss it, want it."

"Hello. Curious," he told her with his own body. She smiled to see the lovely pink thing draped over him. "You like it?"

"Yes yes yes."

"Good. You keep. You are my lost treasure I love."
 He stared at her. "Why?" She gestured at [caw] and [warble]. "They are your little ones you love, you are my little one I love."

"Why?????"
 She showed him a picture, and it was him but big, his dad. ...................Not Dad, Blue Bat. "Him that I love. You that I love. Same." He was confused and scared. He ran away, holding the pink thing high to hear it jingle. [caw] and [warble] ran to meet him. "[chirp-chirp] feel better now?!" they twittered anxiously, glad that he stopped Laughing. 
"Look at my new pretty thing~! I love it!"

[caw] rolled his eyes; [warble] chirped politely. "It's a VERY good thing!!" [chirp-chirp] insisted. He pulled the pink jingly thing tight around himself to hug it and be hugged. "[chirp-chirp] play?" [warble] asked. "Yes, okay." They played, and [chirp-chirp] still had the pink thing when they went home, and [chirp-chirp] wrapped it around himself when he went to sleep. xXx 
"This is an alternate universe, Jackson. You're a version of me from a world called Earth -22, which doesn't exist anymore. You got stranded here during the war with Barbatos, and we would have taken care of you if we'd known who you were. It was our fault we didn't. I'm sorry so many bad things happened to you, Jackson, and we really want to make it up to you, if you'll let us."

"...."

"...Well, in any case...you and I are the same person, so...maybe we could try to get along?"
 Tim the bird angrily watched through the transparent wall. He couldn't hear anything that was being said, but he could clearly see Fake Tim yakking away, laser-pointing at things on a screen. Men and women, all bigger than him, watched intently and asked questions or made comments. 
'You stole my life. You stole my life.'
 Not that he particularly wanted it back. He had no interest in running a company, and Drake Manor was far too close to the hell house. Having regular food and safe shelter would have been really, really nice, but now he had that with Ivy. Fake Tim had nothing he wanted anymore, but it still wasn't right that he was going around with Tim's name and Tim's face.

"Your world is Earth -22. The world we're in now is Prime Earth. There are tons of different worlds side by side, but they have a lot of the same people in them. I'm the Tim from this world, and you're the Tim from that world. Neither of us stole anything from each other. You're a refugee from a lost world."
 ..........Fake. He's fake, he's...he stole it. Everything Tim had, what little there was left. 
"We really care about you, Jackson."
 'Jackson,' hah. No one called him 'Jackson' except the fucking Bats. He had a perfectly good bird name, and he had his real name, and even Selina started shortening it to 'Jack' but called him 'Kitten' half the time, anyway. 'I am not Jack's son. I am no one's son, and never was. I'm Tim.' ..........What reason would there be for someone older and more powerful than him to impersonate him, though? Tim was a nobody, no one cared about him except his brothers and kind of Ivy and maybe Harley and possibly Selina. He wasn't any better than garbage as far as the rest of the world was concerned, and who wanted garbage? Batman probably wanted him back, but only to torture. Why hadn't he just swooped in and taken what he wanted? He'd killed everyone else who'd tried to stand between him and his caged birds, [chirp-chirp] had said he'd killed the first fucking Superman, so what was stopping him from killing Harley and Ivy? Why did the other Bats always look at him with such hungry, sad, longing eyes? Fake Tim finally finished and came out of the glass room, and Tim glared at him. "Sorry, it ran a little later than I thought it would." 'I hate you,' Tim thought, because he wouldn't know what to do if he ever stopped hating this usurper who served the Bat. "Have you had lunch yet?" "Why ya care?" "Let's go," Fake Tim said without answering the question. Though Tim knew that if he had, he would have claimed that he cared because they were versions of the same person, which sort of made them brothers, and he didn't want his brothers to go hungry. Tim wished he'd actually said that for the hundredth time so that he could tell him for the hundred-and-first time where to stick it. "Where?" "The cafeteria." Okay, well, fine, it was food. Tim ate everything that was set in front of him. He could tell from the body language that Fake Tim really wanted to turn his attention to the stuff on the chair next to him, likely his phone or the paperwork in his briefcase, but he was making a deliberate effort to keep his focus on Tim. "So...how's life?" "Bad." "How is it bad?" "You're in it." Fake Tim snorted. "Well, at least you have the brotherly teasing down." "Not brothers," Tim snarled. He had exactly two brothers, and they were both broken birds, not arrogant, annoying businessmen. "Well, I'll tell you how my week went," Fake Tim said, and he did. Tim wanted to hate him for it, but it was...kind of interesting. Office politics were weird. "Fire her," he couldn't help commenting at one point. "Why?" "Lost your money," was the best he could articulate it verbally. The underling's actions had unnecessarily cost the company hundreds of thousands of dollars. "I don't fire people for making honest mistakes." "Set her on fire," Tim said absently, randomly remembering watching corpses being stuffed into an incinerator. "What?" "Fire. Burn it all." "Jackson. Hey, Jack, look at me." He was rocking, his hands over his ears. Why was he rocking? "Jack. You're safe." Crouching in front of him, hands on his knees. The weight of those hands the only thing keeping him from drifting out of the chair. "Mmmm...." He forgot how to make human words. "He burns them!" When he had been very, very small, it had been horrible, but when he was a little bigger, it made him angry. "No no no want meat, meat is leaving, give it back, give it back, black and gone, smell hurts my nose...!" "Jackie. Jack. Hey. It's okay. It's okay, Jackie." "[chirp-chirp]! [caw]!" He wanted his flockmates very badly. "Jackson?" He blinked. His face, staring at him, worried. ......Tim. 'Hello, Tim,' he thought. 'Hello, me.' Two worlds. Two Tims. No version of him would ever have grown up to serve a murderer, would he? Not without getting beaten and poisoned and starved first. Fake Tim, with his pretty skin and teeth clean of blood. Fake Tim who'd grown up whole and healthy and loved, he could have run and escaped, but instead he had gone willingly to the hell house to serve the Bat. He would never be real, because the real Tim would never, ever do that. "I want to go home," Tim said with his hands. "Okay.... Do you want me to find someone to drive you, or do you want to see if Harley or someone will come pick you up?" 
"I want Mom."
 "Okay." xXx A/N: Pre-Flashpoint, Selina had a sister named Maggie, which was short for Magdalene, so I gave Helena that as a middle name. I think, flipping through the Rebirth Catwoman comic I recently got from the library, I might have glimpsed Maggie at one point, but I haven't actually read the comic yet, so I don't know for sure if they finally brought her back. Ugh, guys.... Real life has been kicking my butt. DX It's not that anything particularly bad has happened, but you know how sometimes, your money just seems to keep spilling right back out of your pocket as soon as you put any in? _{[There's a Bible verse for that. X'''D]} I feel like that's what's happening with me and my time these days. I already have little enough writing time as it is, and then the HTTYD3 DVD came out earlier than I expected (hopefully because the film did as poorly at the box office as it deserved), and now I'm trying to write the Fix-It I've had planned ever since I first saw that stupid movie, but it's as unpleasant as writing a school essay and what I really want to be writing is TBWS, but I can't write the main story because I temporarily lost some notes for it and can't find them again until I get a few important tasks done, which I DON'T HAVE TIME to do.... DX DX DX I feel trapped and frustrated and very stressed. Have some out-of-order, alternate route baby birds in the meantime. :(

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Birds Who Smile

, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Alternate route: Never Adopted - Final chapter (very rough draft)
 Harley found it pretty funny that her son could be such a cute mess 'off the clock' and yet so still, serious, and focused when he was shooting a gun. "Better that time, Petey!" she cheered when his latest shot made it significantly closer to the bull's eye during target practice. His eyes flicked to her, and he grinned. "Good me."
 
"Best you," she signed back, cooing. He could be pretty useful on missions, too. He always seemed to know the exact perfect times to break into Joker laughter and scare the pants off of whoever they were trying to intimidate or interrogate, and the sign language came in handy when they needed to communicate soundlessly or at a distance. He had no qualms about doing whatever needed to be done as long as he was convinced that there was a good enough reason for it, and he was sharp, sometimes picking up on cues or threats before she did, or sniffing out dishonesty that she was oblivious to. "I love you, Petey." 
"Love you, Mom."
 None of the Sirens shared Peter's love of books, but they all found it rather pleasant to be read to in his husky, halting voice, or even sometimes in bird language if he wanted to enjoy the story more comfortably. Sometimes he'd lounge in the shade of wide-leafed plants to read for hours; if he was indoors, the cats loved to come and lie on his warm, growing body. "Why are you so big?!" Harley demanded. "You're my baby, you're supposed to be littler than me!" Peter grinned and put an arm around each of his brothers, who were both smaller than him; Jackson in particular was nearly dwarfed. "Pumme down!" the youngest bird shouted. Peter lifted instead, as if working out with weights. Jackson screeched in displeasure; John, his gaze remaining distant, curled up his legs and dangled head-downward. Selina snapped a quick picture to send to Bruce. He never responded, but the next time she spent a night in his bed, she noticed the photograph framed and sitting among all the other pictures on his nightstand. xXx Jackson was deeply immersed, a hacking program running on one computer as he delved deep into restricted files on another and occasionally reached over to make a move on the chess game going on his tablet, when he was interrupted. "crow!" he screamed when the laptop under his fingertips was abruptly yanked away. He tried to grab it back, but his flailing hands closed on empty air because the vines wrapped around his body were dragging him back. "GIMME MY COMPUTER!!!" "No," Ivy snapped. "You've been glued to your screens for sixteen hours straight--" "PUMME DOWN, BITCH!!" "--you haven't even touched the three meals I've set next to you during that time--" "FUCK YOU!" "--and you need to get off the electronics and spend some time outside, now." She gestured, and a vine smacked him across the mouth. "And that's for calling me a bitch. Apologize." He glowered, tears stinging his eyes, hanging helplessly in vines. "...Sorry." "Now go outside and play." "NO!" The vines started dragging him. He struggled for a minute, then gave up and hung in limp resentment. The vines deposited him in the back garden, all of them retreating except one that remained wrapped around his ankle. He knew it would tighten if he tried to disobey orders, and he knew that injuring or destroying it, or any of Ivy's beloved plants, would earn him a worse punishment than a smack on the mouth. Ivy was more lenient if it was an accident, but the one time he'd thrown a tantrum when he was fourteen and deliberately shredded half her favorite garden, she'd poisoned him with something that made him sick for days. He'd learned his lesson. Jackson resentfully curled up in the grass and tried to sleep, but his mind was too wired, and he was hot. He finally uncurled again and wandered around, then disabled the security and climbed over the fence. The vine around his ankle eventually reached its limit and released him, but as he walked along the street, he saw every plant he passed turning toward him, spying on him. He hissed at them and wandered until he reached a playground. He flopped onto a bench and slumped there for a while, arms crossed and glaring. He watched the children playing, the mothers on other benches gossiping. He finally got up and wandered through the equipment, stepping out of the way of a couple of kids chasing each other. He absolutely did not mean to fall asleep in an abandoned, overgrown garden, but that's what he accidentally ended up doing. He came back home hours later with grass in his hair and dirt streaking his face. "Can I have my computer back now?" he demanded. "After you eat." "I can eat while I'm working!" "You can, but you usually don't." Grumbling and cursing, Jackson ate some random food out of the refrigerator, then moved a cat out of his desk chair and sat down. He'd lost access to the restricted files by now, but at least the hacking program had finished running. He got back to work. He'd never admit it to his mother, but after the sunlight and exercise, the nap, and the food, he felt a lot better. xXx John started to wander - right out of the lab, onto the streets, all around the city. His mothers thought it might be simple restlessness at first, but when they tried to enlist him as a henchman like Peter was by now, he wandered away from that, too. He attacked would-be muggers, robbers, and rapists; he brought food and blankets to homeless people. He did tricks to make frightened children smile and led police officers to hidden bodies. "He gets it from your side of the family, Lina," Harley huffed as she helped Selina drag their son home yet again. "Marrying into a family of vigilantes doesn't make me one, too." Later, Ivy said, "Rosebud, you can stay out all night to fight evil if you want, but you have to tell us. We worry a lot when we don't know where you went." 
"This city hurts."
 The tolerated Bats, particularly Nightwing and Black Bat, started training John, fighting him on the streets and rooftops demonstratively enough for him to pick up moves and tactics. Dick gave him a grapple gun one night and taught him how to use it. Bruce sent an armored suit via Selina, though John refused to wear it until the colors had been changed to sky blue and pink. "What is wrong with you?" Hood accused Nightwing in exasperation the first time they saw the young birthday cake of a vigilante contentedly grappling his way through a neighborhood. "I think it looks nice," Nightwing defended. "You would, Discowing." John didn't seem to know what to do with a comm when the Bats tried giving him one, and the first time he heard Batman's voice rumbling over the line, he hurled his comm away and refused to accept a replacement. He ignored all visiting Titans and Justice League members except for Starfire and Superman, and even then, he seemed far more interested in playing with the fiery hair and inspecting the S than he was in interacting with the people themselves. He never introduced himself as anything (he very rarely spoke or even signed on patrol at all), so his vigilante persona was named by social media. Civilians shared anecdotes about him and argued about whether or not he was a Bat. A few children and teenagers were spotted dressing up as him when Halloween came around. John remained a lone figure on the nighttime streets of Gotham until the evening when he happened to be working near Damian Wayne and Mar'i Grayson, the new Batman and Robin. The bird watched warily, studying the distant figures. The body language and the size were not right; Batman was not Batman. The little one...he had seen her before, so colorful and bright like a star, like someone else he knew. It was very, very bad for her to be Batman's new bird, but she was so happy, maybe he wasn't hurting her. Maybe he hadn't started the game yet. The bird didn't want to care, but the little one was so small and precious.... He was afraid to go to her, but she went still and looked at him for a long time, and then...she came to him. She flew, really flew just like a born-bird. Her hair streamed out long behind her like dark fire, her eyes were hidden behind a mask but it didn't look painful, her red/green/yellow feathers were clean and tidy and new. "Hi, Uncle John." The bird stared at her. Only one person called him that, and now that he looked at her shape and the way her body moved, he knew her. She was 'Mar'i,' Blue Bat's little one. He had never seen her hair dance like fire before, but other than that, she was the same. "Hello, Little Star," he greeted. She smiled and said something. He didn't know what it was, so he was silent. She floated up and kissed his cheek, and it tingled. Then she twittered in a language he knew, "You come (sad) with me you that I like, come with me."
 
"No," he told her, for she belonged to Batman. Her little shoulders slumped, but then she straightened. "I stay with you then, you that I like. Uncle John, will you come home for dinner?" He thought about Little Star safe at home, with mamas and birds and laughing dogs and plants to protect her. "You come home, eat good food."

"No, you come to my home. Eat with me and Mama and Papa and the baby."
 He didn't like mamas and papas who would give their little star bird to the Bat. "No. Bad Mama Papa, I take you home and keep you." "Uncle Johhhhnnn!" "Names, Robin." "Oh, hi, Da-- Nightwing." The bird turned around, and saw someone perched watching them. "Blue Bat." Robin laughed. "He calls you 'Blue Bat'!" "What does he call you?" Nightwing asked curiously. "Little Star." "Aww, perfect." Robin bounded over to Nightwing and snuggled into his arms. He smiled at the bird. "Robin's just starting out, but I think she's doing a great job." "...." "Did she invite you to dinner yet?" "He wants me to come to Aunt Pam's. He said he wants to steal me from you." "Hey, get your own Tamaranean to have kids with," Nightwing teased. John simply looked at him, and the man sobered. "Really, though. We'd love for you to come visit. You haven't seen the baby yet, right?" This time, John used sign language. "Keep baby away from Bat." He grappled away. That would have been the end of it, except that Batman and Robin noticed the bird stalking them on patrol afterward. Nightwing came to collect his daughter around two in the morning, and when he noticed that they'd been followed home, he left the window open. When Kori got up hours later, she panicked for a moment when she found the crib empty, but then halted in the living room to find Jake curled up asleep in John's arms on the couch. "What food do you like for breakfast?" she asked her husband's younger alternate universe self. "Good baby," John signed instead of answering the question. Kori shrugged and went to put some Pop-Tarts into the toaster. o.o.o Jackson was sixteen years old when he started considering that perhaps the claim was true that this was a completely different universe than the one he'd been born and tormented in. He was eighteen years old when he finally worked up the courage to return to Wayne Manor - or, if they were right, to visit it for the first time. It was Christmas Eve, and most of the family was gathered together for a meal, the majority of them intending to spend the night and at least Christmas Day at the manor. The dining room was as full as it had always been designed for, a rarity in Bruce's lifetime. The patriarch himself was quiet, eating steadily at the head of the table without getting too involved in conversation, but it deeply warmed his heart to hear the lively voices, laughter, and shouts of his children and grandchildren throughout the meal. There were two puppies asleep on his feet. Jason was teasing Damian about Twitter's opinions on the competence of the current Batman compared to the original; little Jake was defending his cousins from his sister and shouting that no powers were allowed at the table; Dick had Tim in a playful headlock for some reason; Cass and Kori were having an enthusiastic conversation in ASL; Duke kept a straight face as he told Terry stories about how crazy the Waynes were, only some of those stories true (the more outrageous ones, in fact); and so on down the entire table. It was Bruce's phone that alerted him first. Selina, who always insisted on sitting beside him rather than properly at the foot of the table, leaned over his arm to look, and she was the one who first realized what they were seeing. She leaped to her feet with a gasp, scattering annoyed cats. "What is it, Mom?" Damian asked at once, more than halfway into Batman Mode. Selina rushed away without answering, and everyone followed her, Bruce quickly assuring worried parents that it was nothing to protect the children from. Selina drove a golf cart down the long drive until she reached the still so small figure stomping angrily through the snow. "You should have called, kitten, I would have come to meet you." He ignored her. "Jack, come on, get on the cart. It's a long walk." He continued to keep his eyes fixed on the house. "Jackson, seriously?" She kept pace with him in the golf cart, waiting with an eyebrow raised, until he finally slowed and came to a stop halfway down the drive. He stood there for a long moment, hands clenched. Then he flung himself onto a seat behind Selina and sat rigidly, his arms crossed. "Are you even going to say hello?" she asked. "...." "Fine." She pressed her foot against the accelerator. When they neared the house, with the family all waiting in front of the grand front doors, Jackson suddenly clutched one of the poles. He whimpered and then flung himself off the cart. "Jack!" Selina slammed on the brake, too late. "Tell me, don't just jump off the cart!" Jackson had scrambled to his feet. He stared at the family for a long moment, though Bruce was not among them. Then he turned away and started to head down the drive again. "Tim," Tim called out, moving down the stairs. Jackson halted. "You came all the way out here to do nothing, and now, what, you're just going to turn around and go all the way back? So productive." Jackson whirled to face him and stormily raised a middle finger. "Hey! There're kids here!" Dick called, raising a hand to cover Jake's eyes. The little boy, sitting in his father's arm, patted at Dick's hand on his face. Jackson stomped around to a side door near the garage and kicked at it. Tim, coming up behind him, rolled his eyes and pressed his hand against the palmprint reader, and the door unlocked itself and swung open. Jackson stared into the interior of the house for a long moment. Then, slowly, he stepped inside. He said nothing as he looked around the mud room, then walked to the kitchen and stared for a while at its shining tile and gurgling dishwasher and tidy rows of spices and the pots and pans soaking in the sink. He paced to the living room and stared at the Christmas tree and decorations and the healthy, dozing pets for a while. He went to the doors to the terrace and stared out at the lawn and gardens, immaculate except for the toys and sports balls that hadn't been put away after the games earlier in the day. He turned and paced upstairs, heading straight to the master bedroom. He'd been followed all this time by most of the family, the children confused and the adults on edge, but now, people began to fall back. It was only Selina and Tim who leaned in the doorway and watched Jackson looking around the bedroom, studying the photographs and clothes and toiletries in confusion, staring for a long time at the bed. When he saw photographs of himself or his bird brothers, he smashed the frames, extracted the pictures, and tucked them into his pockets. After a while, Jackson slowly came out, pushing past his mother and his older self as if they were furniture. He gazed down the hallway without really seeing it. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and raised his head and screamed, "BatmaaaAAAAANNN!!" He shouted for his old tormentor all the way down the stairs, then halted when he saw Bruce. The older man stood in the entryway to the living room, silent and grim. Jackson stared at him for a long minute, his breathing shaky. Then he sank down to sit on the stairs. Half an hour later, the children were chasing each other around the house and most of the adults were chasing after them or helping clean up after dinner. Bruce was sitting in his easy chair in the living room, staring at a book without reading it. Jackson was sitting on a straight-backed chair on the other side of the room that was meant more for decoration than functionality. Between them lounged Selina, who was flipping through channels on TV, and Tim, who was quietly working on his tablet. At long last, Jackson rose to his feet. It took him several minutes to cross the living room. Bruce shut the book and waited silently, remaining seated. Selina and Tim went tense as they watched. Jackson stood in front of Bruce for a very long moment. Then he raised his hand. Tim was instantly there, catching his wrist, but Jackson stared, reading in Bruce's body language that the man would not have dodged the strike. "...Batman." Tim released his hand. "Jackson," Bruce said in a low voice. "You locked us in cages. Chained us. Starved us and beat us, fed us Meat. Drugged us and made us Laugh." "That was the other one. My nightmare." After a long time, Jackson whispered, "Your nightmare." "My worst nightmare, come to life. It's you. What he did to you. My sons." Jackson carefully eyed Tim, who nodded. Jackson's fists and teeth clenched; his nostrils flared. "I'm - real. Not a fucking DREAM!" "You are real," Bruce murmured. "The nightmares were brought to life. You came into this world. Your screams and your blood...they're real. It's my fault." After a long silence, Jackson's face crumpled. The strength seemed to leave his body and he slipped to his knees. His hands hit the floor as he wept, then he gave up and lay at Bruce's feet, sobbing into the carpet. Bruce himself had covered his face, tears starting to drip between his hands, shoulders shuddering. Uncertainly, carefully, Selina leaned on the arm of his chair and ran her fingertips across his back; Tim knelt beside his young counterpart and rested a hand on his hair. Jackson finally sat up and rubbed his sleeve over his face, looking drained. Bruce had gone quiet, elbows braced on his knees and head hanging. "He's dead?" Jackson asked. "Yes," Bruce mumbled without looking up. "A long time ago, when you came to this world." "I wanted to fucking kill him." There was nothing to say to that. "Can I kill you?" "No," Tim said, calmly. Jackson turned his face to meet Tim's eyes for the first time that night. "Timothy. Jackson. Drake," he spat. "The not-nightmare one," Tim agreed. "Fuck you." "I'm ace, so no thanks." "It's your fault." "I stopped letting people blame me for existing a long time ago." Jackson clenched his hands so hard his fingernails left red marks on his palms. "What do I...do?!" "You could stay for Christmas," Selina suggested. "You even have presents. Saves me having to bring them over if you open them up here." Jackson stared at her. "Jackson," Tim said softly, "you're free. You've been free for five years. Free of Laughs for twelve. You can do whatever you want." "...I want to go home," Jackson choked out. "[chirp-chirp], [caw]...." Selina reached down to ruffle his hair. "I'll take him." "Will you be back?" Bruce asked in a low voice. Selina looked at her son. "You want me to stay at the lab tonight, kitten, or can I come back here once I drop you off?" "Who do you love more?" Jackson challenged. "Me, or him?" "Stay with him," Bruce said at once, his voice flat. Selina huffed. "I'm not playing that game. If you two are going to fight about it, then I'll go out clubbing with Holly, how's that?" Jackson sulked, and Bruce frowned. "Looks like no one will have to drive him," Tim said, checking his phone. He tapped the button to open the front gates. Bruce stood at the top of the front steps, watching Selina drive Jackson in the golf cart to meet the car waiting just beyond the property line. From that distance, he saw the figures of his two other lost sons throw themselves upon their little brother and drag him into the back seat. Selina leaned beside the window for a while, talking to her co-parents. Then she finally looked back and waved at Bruce before getting into the car. Bruce exhaled deeply, his heart full of a bittersweet ache as he watched Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn drive away with his children. o.o.o Author's notes: Mar'i being Damian's Robin was an idea I came up with for this specific "Never Adopted" story, but I like it so much that now it's part of my general headcanon. :) I'm so glad I finished a story! 8'''D This was the second-worst alternate ending to TBWS. I think that Jackson would occasionally visit the manor and gradually feel more comfortable (John & Peter would probably refuse to ever set foot there), but I didn't know how to mention that, since the Sirens driving away with the birds seemed like a good place to end it. I'm still having troubles in real life that are preventing me from working on the main story, but I've got a lot of other TBWS stuff that I can try in the meantime.