Chapter Text
Alfred was getting a little concerned about his charge. And for once, it had nothing to do with Bruce’s nightly crusades against crime. At least, not directly.
It had been a few days since the young Birds had been recovered. When Bruce had returned that night he had told Alfred in the most serious tone, “Never again."
He hadn’t known what that meant. At least, he hadn’t until the news reported that Batman had captured the Joker again- although this time there had been a lot more blood and a lot less laughter from the clown.
The news had also gotten wind of Joker’s kidnapping spree, but the names of the abductees were withheld from all reports since they were all minors. As such, no one had suspected anything when the following morning a completely different headline had read, “Foster Parent Arrested for Suspected Negligence of Four Children”.
Bruce had read the report seven times before he had finally thrown the paper in the fire in pure anger. The paper had stated that “recent events have brought this nightmare of a life into police eyes” and Alfred shuddered to think that being kidnapped by the Joker could actually bring about some good.
When he had tried to bring them up, Bruce had steered the conversation in the opposite direction, or had just gotten up and left the room. Other than the Joker incident, he hadn’t gone out of the house and had spent most of his time beating up punching bags in the Cave.
Most worrying of all, he had skipped patrol.
Twice.
It was Wednesday morning when the landline rang. Alfred practically threw his feather duster aside and scooped the old phone up. “Hello?”
“Agent A?” a soft voice whispered.
Alfred almost smiled, “Hello, Mr. Drake. I was wondering if we’d be hearing from you.”
Tim didn’t say anything for a moment. “I… I know I shouldn’t have called but… I just overheard the foster worker talking to Commissioner Gordon and-” his voice cut off and Alfred heard footsteps and laughter in the background that grew then faded. “ Sorry,” Tim mumbled, “I’m not supposed to be out of the hospital room yet.”
The old butler frowned, “Now, Mr. Drake, couldn’t you have just asked for a phone?”
“Who would I be calling?” Tim asked. “I don’t have any family left and it’s not like I have friends. If I said I wanted to talk to Bruce Wayne, they’d laugh me off.” Tim sighed. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Very well, Mr. Drake. How may I be of service?”
Tim took a deep breath, “Foster care is splitting us up.”
It came as little surprise, but Alfred still felt a stab of sympathy. “Oh, Timothy, I am so sorry.”
“Which is why… I’m calling you. I was hoping Mr. Wayne might be able to find someone willing to take three boys in.”
Alfred nodded, “I’m sure Master Wayne would be-” he suddenly cut off as the sentence clicked, “I beg your pardon did you say three? Did something happen to one of your brothers?”
“No! No, no, nothing like that.” Tim laughed softly, “It’s just… Dick, Jason, and Damian need one another. Damian can’t be alone, Jason needs some moral compass, and Dick… well, he’s just needed there.” There was a pause and Alfred suspected Tim was composing himself. “Besides, three boys between the ages of twelve and eight is a lot for someone to take in. If it was four, the chances of finding a willing participant lessen even more. I’ll be fine on my own”
Alfred felt his heart crack at the statement. “I will inform Master Wayne of your request. Rest assured, Mr. Drake, he’ll find something.”
“Thank you…. For everything .” The line remained quiet for a few more seconds before going dead. Timothy had said all he needed.
Alfred hung up, his mind, and heart racing. He hurried down into the cave and found Bruce pounding at his punching bag.
Where he had been for the past four hours.
“Master Bruce?”
Bruce jabbed the bag a few more times before pausing, his expression void of any emotion.
“I just received a call from Mr. Drake.”
A flash of fear flared across the man’s face and Bruce was already headed to the Batsuit when Alfred called out quickly, “He would like Bruce Wayne’s help. Not Batman’s.”
The fear died off a little and Bruce’s shoulders relaxed. “What does he need?”
“Timothy has just discovered that the four boys are going to be split up. He was asking assistance in finding a place willing to take all of them in.” Alfred felt a little guilty at the lie, but only a little. What the young Timothy didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.
Bruce scrunched up his face in a thoughtful expression. “It would have to be outside of Gotham, most likely.”
Alfred hesitated a moment. “I will leave that decision to you, sir.”
“Mmh…” Bruce ignored the punching bag for the first time in the last several days and made a beeline to the computer. Within the hour, he had begun tracking down a suitable home for the Birds, cross-referencing with FBI files and the Justice Leagues’ own watchlist. He was still there at dinner time. He was still there past nine. And past midnight Alfred couldn’t remember a day that Bruce had missed patrol-
-now he could remember three.
On the bright side, at least Master Bruce wasn’t trashing more punching bags. They were rather a pain to clean up after.
Bruce re-read the file for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Kyle and Katie Jones. Aged 38 and 36. Long-time foster parents, no criminal records, no government agency involvement, heck, the only ‘records’ were their birth and marriage certificates, along with their driver’s licenses. The couple were well off and had tried, and failed, to have any children. The foster system had worked out well for them, with them adopting one baby girl out of the mix. The girl, Jessica, was now seven years old. They did appear willing to take more kids in if their adoption requests from the past two years were any indication (all three of them had fallen through for one reason or another).
They were just one of four families Bruce had narrowed his search down to in the past two days. The newspaper article that morning had announced the Bird’s release from the hospital later that afternoon. He had no doubt the boys would be separated a short time after that, which meant he needed to start calling and asking.
There was just one problem. Bruce really didn’t want to pick up the phone.
He told himself it was nerves. If all four of the candidates refused, then he’d have to start all over. And he didn’t have that kind of time.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the Jones lived on the other side of the country. Or that Matthew Garfield lived in London. Or that Megan Schupp lived in Canada. Or the Janssens in the southwest United States.
And it had nothing to do with the fact that he wasn’t going to see them again.
Definitely not the reason.
Bruce pinched his nose, feeling very annoyed with himself. He’d put their lives in danger for crying out loud! If anything, he should be sending the Birds as far away from him as possible. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting them.
That was the irony of the situation, he supposed. He saved them only to lose them.
‘They aren’t yours!’ He scolded himself. ‘This is for the best.’
And still, Bruce continued to stare at the phone.
Alfred found him like that two hours later when he brought down lunch. “Having second thoughts, Master Bruce?”
“No, Alfred. Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out how to phrase what I want to say.” Bruce smiled. It was a rather small one that was void of any real happiness.
Alfred placed the tray of sandwiches in front of his charge. “Really? It takes all morning to compose a draft for a five-minute conversation?”
Bruce glared at him. ‘Don’t question me ’, it seemed to say and Alfred decided to humor him. “Very well, sir. What were you thinking of saying?”
Bruce shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Perhaps you could say, ‘Hello, I’m Bruce Wayne. I have four boys here from Gotham who needs a good home and I am more than willing to pay for their expenses if you can take care of them.'”
Bruce’s glare narrowed slightly. “That sounds like I’m selling them.”
“Then how about, ‘Wanted: good home for four Gotham boys. You seem like a good fit.'”
“Again, Alfred. Not selling them.”
“What would you say then?”
“For one,” Bruce stated, “I’d leave out my name. Let them think I’m a foster worker or government official.”
“Anything else, sir?”
Bruce hesitated, his words slow and deliberate. “I’d tell them about how they have been living for the last several years, alone and deprived of any proper care. I’d tell them about their loyalty to one another and how once you join the family, they will never abandon you. I’d talk about Dick’s big heart and his fun-loving personality, about how much he will make them smile and laugh. I’d tell them about Jason’s stubbornness and adventure streak and how both of them will drive you up the walls, but that you’ll grow to endear both traits. I’d tell them about Tim’s intellect, how far it is going to take him, and about his shy personality that makes you instantly care about him. I’d tell them about Damian’s strength and determination to keep going, even when things go wrong, and about his need for family. I’d tell them…” Bruce trailed off for a moment before finishing in a whisper, “they’ll never find better boys to call their own.”
Alfred smiled. “Then that’s what you say, Master Bruce.”
“I… I suppose you’re right, Alfred.” Bruce looked at the phone for another moment before picking it up with a shaking hand. Before he could even start dialing, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Alfred was looking down at him, unshed tears in his eyes. “Sir… has it ever occurred to you that these boys might already have a willing foster parent?”
“....I can’t .”
“And why on earth not?”
“You saw what Joker did to them just because they met Batman on the streets a few times. Imagine the kind of danger they could get in if a billionaire took them in full time.” Bruce chuckled. It was empty, more harsh than humorous, “Especially when said billionaire is also said Bat.”
Alfred gently squeezed Bruce’s shoulders. He let out a heavy sigh and decided that decorum and tact could go out the moment. At least for the moment. “Master Bruce, I have cared for you and watched you grow from an infant to the man you are today and there is one thing I have learned. You care deeply about those around you. So much so that in efforts to keep them safe, you often push them away.” He leaned over and pushed a few buttons on the keyboard, pulling up a picture of the Birds during one of their late-night outings. Their faces were hidden and the figures were blurry and distant, but there was no mistaking them. “Has it ever occurred to you that by pushing them away, you hurt them, and yourself, more than it would if you kept them close?”
Bruce didn’t answer.
Alfred patted him on the shoulders, “Think about it, Master Bruce. The decision is yours.” Then he left without another word.
Gordon was waiting with a squad car when the four boys were released from the hospital. He had a smile on his face and asked each of them how their recovery was coming along. He offered to use the siren on the ride back to the station and made a joke about them sitting in the back.
Dick gave half-hearted responses and Jason grunted. Tim was silent, more so than usual and Damian just glared.
Gordon sighed softly. Couldn’t really blame them, he supposed. “Alright, let’s get moving. Foster care is waiting for you at the station.”
Dick was the first to climb in the vehicle, followed closely behind by Damian, who limped from his leg injury but had refused crutches (and by “refused” Dick meant the kid had thrown them across the room). Jason refused to get in the back of the car, opting for the shotgun position. Tim climbed in last, shutting the door behind him.
The ride wasn’t long, maybe fifteen minutes, but it was filled with silence. Gordon made a comment or two but didn’t push it. He glanced in the mirror and to his right, watching carefully for… well, anything.
Jason’s breath was light, but it still fogged the glass. The last hour had been a painful one for Jason. The Birds had said their goodbyes to one another before they had been released from the hospital since they hadn’t been sure when they’d be separated. He hadn’t said much to anyone. A request for Dick to stay away from tall structures, a ruffle of Damian’s hair (‘Stay outta trouble, kiddo.’), and another thank you to Tim for finding him in that safe. That had been it for Jason. He’d never cared for goodbyes. Or hellos.
He watched the alleys and the litter piles swoosh by, his mind running through his personal plan for the future. By his guess, he’d be in a group home of some sort within the next week. He planned to stay for a day or two before taking off. No way was he sticking around in some juvie hall or home for troubled boys. He’d always been better off on the streets anyway. Within a few years, he’d probably join a gang or find his place in the homeless community. It wasn’t ideal, and it wasn’t a dream life, but it was a plan.
The only plan he’d ever have after this.
Behind him, Tim was sitting in a similar position. Head pressed against the glass, staring out the window. Unlike his older brother, however, his eyes were fixed on the sky. The sun was out, for once in Gotham. He took it as a good sign that hope was not lost… at least, for the others.
Mr. Wayne had found a home for them, or at least he hoped he had. A few days wasn’t a lot of time and although it might not be immediately, Dick, Jason, and Damian would find one another again. Tim would be fine. He had told them as much earlier in the hospital, though not in so many words. He had simply hugged all three of them and repeated to each, “Don’t worry about me.” Nothing more, nothing less.
Tim was young. Almost ten and a half, now. The age was pushing it a little, but someone might not mind having him around. He would be fine in school and he was agreeable enough that most people would leave him be. He’d attend a school of some sort, graduate high school, get a job, and build a simple life. The Drakes had been well off and there was enough money left to him in his father’s will for him to attend college when he was of age. If he worked hard enough, he would be well enough off.
And maybe one day, Tim would see what happened to the other Birds. He’d track them down, call them and leave a message, or show up on their doorstep and surprise them. He’d smile and tell them how he’d been since they saw one another, making sure to stress the good moments. He’d been fine, he was fine. He is fine.
“Fine” wasn’t the same as being happy, but it would have to do.
Damian was the only one without a window. Normally, he would have protested and demanded a window seat. Today, he was okay with it. The middle of the car was a good place to see Jason and Tim. He didn’t need to see Dick, because he was leaning against the boy, holding his hand tight.
Damian had been unable to say goodbye at the hospital. He had tried to say it in many ways; verbally, physically, heck, he had even tried to write it down, but the words wouldn’t come. Nothing came out of his mouth, not a single word. He hadn’t been able to understand why at first. Yes, he cared about his “brothers” and yes, he was sad to see them go. Maybe his brain was in denial about the situation or maybe he thought it was some bad dream.
It wasn’t a dream. Damian had pinched, and in one case slapped, himself enough times to know that. No, it wasn’t denial. It was something worse. Something weaker.
It was a want. Damian didn’t want to say goodbye. After all this time, after all of his running and his preparation for being alone again- his belief that he would be alone again- it suddenly slammed into his brain. These were the only people in his life he could remember not wanting to lose. They were the only people he could lose. So Damian clung to Dick and prayed he’d wake up from the nightmare. He refused to think about the future or what could happen to him.
Any life without his brothers was too painful to imagine.
Dick leaned against Damian, his arm slung around the boy, and held him close. Of all of them, Dick had been the only one to cry during their private conversation at the hospital. He had taken the longest, stressing the wonderful times they’d had together and how much he’d miss them. Dick promised this wasn’t permanent, that they’d see one another again, then hugged them all tightly, ignoring any cry of protest.
Unbeknownst to them, Dick had already talked to one of the foster workers and had requested being sent back to Haley’s circus. Although it wasn’t official on paperwork or anything, the worker had agreed to look into the option and had seemed enthusiastic about it (nothing could be worse than Gotham, and getting him away from Joker seemed like a good enough excuse to stretch the rules a little).
His plan was simple enough on paper. Stay with the circus until he was at least eighteen. Get the necessary paperwork in order and find all of his brothers before making their family “official”. It would take a lot of time, effort, and money, but Dick was willing to do it. He wouldn’t be able to see any of them for at least six years, although Dick suspected it would be closer to eight, maybe even ten. Jason would be a legal adult by then, maybe even Tim and Damian. A lot could change in that amount of time, but Dick promised himself he’d try. He had to try. He’d already lost his first family, he wasn’t going to lose his second one without a fight.
And he was ready to fight.
Gordon pulled to a stop in front of the station and got out of the car. “Come on, boys. There’s some hot chocolate inside if you’d like.”
None of them said anything as they got out of the car and headed for the entrance. The youngest boy, Damian, if Gordon was remembering correctly, had been clutching the eldest, Dick, in the car. He didn’t release his hold on him as the two carefully walked up the steps and into the station. The other two remained distant from the others and kept their eyes down.
The foster worker Gordon had met earlier in the week, Miss Jenaveve, was just getting off the phone when they walked in. Her smile was genuine and her voice was gentle, “Hello, boys. How about you go sit together over there while I talk to the Commissioner? We have some details we need to wrap up.”
Gordon frowned. As far as he knew everything was done. Richard was going to Haley’s circus, Jason was being placed in a boy’s home in Bludhaven, Tim was being moved to Central City, and Damian was flying to some small town in the Southwest. Perhaps he had missed something or signed off on the wrong thing. It had been a long week.
The boys were obedient and sat down in the hard plastic chairs in the reception area. Jenaveve motioned for Gordon to follow her into his office.
She shut the door behind him and he positioned himself behind the desk, brow furrowed. “I thought everything was in order. Is something wrong?”
Jenaveve shrugged. “Depends on your definition of ‘wrong’. What do you know about Bruce Wayne?”
Gordon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden subject, “I know quite a bit. Why do you ask?”
“I just got off the phone with him,” Jenaveve explained. “We’ve been talking for the past hour and a half about the boys.”
“What about them?”
“Mr. Wayne would like to take them in as his wards. At least for now.”
Gordon didn’t know what to say to that. “All of them?”
Jenaveve nodded.
“Mmh…” Gordon pressed his fingertips to his mouth. “What do you think?”
“It will take some change of paperwork and Mr. Wayne will have to prove he can provide for the boys, but other than that…” her voice trailed off. “What do you think?”
Gordon thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not. Bruce is an old friend of mine. I’ve known him since he was a boy. He’s had a lot of heartache in his life and while his business does well, I’ve never been sure if he enjoyed it.”
“Commissioner, would Mr. Wayne be the type of man to take in the boys just for good press? Or for more… illegal purposes” Jenaveve asked.
Gordon quickly shook his head.“No, Bruce isn’t like that. He’s much kinder than the tabloids make him out to be. He lost his parents when he was young, so he knows what these boys have been through. It isn’t like their story has been kept a secret from the press. It could be a lot of things acting out right now. Sympathy, charity, a few other emotions.”
“So you think it’s a good idea?”
“Yes, I suppose I do. I’ve seen those boys interact with one another first hand. They don’t want to be separated, which is the main reason, I suspect, they never came forward with their negligence from Roman. This solves that problem and makes it so they won’t have to leave Gotham. Moving can be hard on kids.”
“What about the Joker?” Jenaveve demanded, “He may be in Arkham right now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be there tomorrow.”
Gordon nodded, “If I told you that Joker doesn’t know who they are, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Well, Joker doesn’t know who they are.”
Jenaveve blinked several times, the skepticism on her face clear and unwavering.
Gordon leaned forward and put his hands on his desk, “Let me explain: the boys have code names they use with one another on the streets. Sort of like a game of spies, if you will. Batman has told me that he had a few encounters with them over the past few months. Joker noticed, apparently, but he only heard, and cared about, the codenames.”
“So what? He never saw their faces?”
“Not clearly, anyway. They were wearing hoods that covered up or at least shadowed most of their features. Joker never cared about who they were under the hood, just as he never really cares to unmask Batman. He has no interest in it.” Gordon shrugged, “It appeals to his sense of… “the game”, as he calls it.”
“So…” Jenaveve, “you’re trying to tell me that Joker isn’t going to come after these boys because he doesn’t care about them as actual people?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Gordon leaned back in his chair. “Anything involving Joker is a strange case. This one is no exception.”
“What are the code names?”
Gordon shrugged, “Batman wouldn’t tell me, which was probably for the best. If I don’t know them, the press doesn’t know them, which means Joker doesn’t connect the two names together.”
“I suppose that makes sense…” Jenaveve replied slowly. “I still don’t like it though.”
“Mr. Wayne lives in one of the safest houses in Gotham. It’s outside of town, it has several safe rooms built into it, and Bruce knows how to hold his own, along with his butler. I’m sure Bruce will have safety measures in place to keep the boys safe.”
Jenaveve held up her clipboard, “I’ll need to do a background check and clear him for the Foster system-”
“Which you have nothing to fear from. He’ll pass, I guarantee it.”
“-and check with my superiors. But other than that… I don’t see why not.”
Gordon smiled, “I’ll have Mr. Wayne come pick up the boys. We won’t tell them the news yet, not until it’s official, but I’m sure they can stay the night there for the time being.”
“Very well, Commissioner.” Jenaveve stood to her feet and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m trusting you on this.”
“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised, Miss Jenaveve.”