Family in Counting (BatBrats AU)

2: What Now, Jay?

I laid with my suit next to me, letting off this soft, halo golden glow. Damien slept on my pillow in a huddle, his thumb in his mouth and a soft, serene look over his face. I tipped my fingers against the cuffs where Bruce had pinned little Ws into the white shirt. We--us boys--wore the same suits at his parties (Cass had earrings and Steph had a necklace and a bracelet), the seal marking us as his children so everyone would know. He was proud of us, I think. Most of us.

Dick was going places. He had gotten accepted to some school back west on a half academic and half gymnastics scholarship, basically a full ride (not like Bruce couldn't pay for it and hadn't offered, Dick just insisted to make his own way). The kid was smart, smarter than anyone I'd ever known. Tim was a little genius too, he made a mini fridge out of a cardboard box and some chemicals from the garage. He was only eight or so and he was reading Dick's AP textbooks when he was bored. Cassie was a sharp and skilled ballerina, even more poised and balanced than Dick (who had been doing gymnastics since he could walk). Steph, she was a little genius too, and boy could she tell you about it. Even three-year-old Damien could just about outsmart all of us. I couldn't even manage to get through an entire period without getting sent to detention.

Damien stirred on the pillow, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Jay-jay," he mumbled.

"Damien," I sighed. I sat up and took my shirt off, starting to dress in the suit. "C'mere little demon."

I left the buttons of my white shirt undone and picked Damien off my bed. He curled into my shoulder, resting his cheek into it. I rubbed his back and closed my eyes.

"He'll take care of us," I whispered. "I promise. He's gonna take care of us. Of you."

I set him back on the bed and he looked up at me curiously.

"We godin' humwhere?" he asked, crawling into my suit jacket and sticking his head into the sleeve.

"Yeah kiddo. We're gonna go see Dad."

"Yay, Papa!"

"And we're going to get all dressed up," I choked, starting to fumble with my buttons. "All dressed up."

Damien pulled the sleeve off his head and just danced his fingers around the soft fabric. His arms gathered the suit jacket and he laid on it again. He closed his eyes slowly, letting his breaths even out despite how excited he had gotten about seeing Dad. As he started to drift off I picked him up again, my shirt buttoned all the way to the third from the top. I meant to only move him off the jacket so I could put it on.

I forgot to grab my jacket. Damien held his hands around the back of my neck and made this satisfied sigh. I found myself pressing him closer, holding him tighter. My eyes watered and I smelled the baby shampoo that radiated off of him. Bruce smelled like that after Dami was born. He would always run around with baby power on his cheek, soap in his hair, or the curved end of a round rubber pacifier between his lips. My entire body ached, like it did when I got sick, like it did when they were treating me. It was the same ache, but a different ache. It consumed me and it hurt me just like that one but it destroyed me more and it nested like it wouldn't leave me. I just cried and I held him, letting my legs bring us to the floor. He stirred a little and I sniffled back my tears. His hand reached around and pulled at my cheek.

"Don cry, Jay-Jay," he whispered. "Don be thad. It gonna be okay."

"Jason?" Dick said as he came in. I jumped and let Damien fall more comfortably into my lap. He squinted his eyes open to look up at me. "Oh Jay," Dick sighed, striding over and landing next to me. He put his hand on my cheek, using his thumb to peel away the sadness in the wet droplets on my skin. "Jaybird, I know. I know." He cradled my head, pulling me into his chest. The ache came again. I gathered myself before he could pull out another tear from me.

"Here, take the demon," I deadpanned, jerking Damien awake and shoving him into Dick's lap.

"Jay-Jay! Wanna 'tay wit Jay-Jay!" Damien cried, his lip quivering.

"It's okay lil' D," Dick said, standing with a squirming baby in his arms. "We're gonna get you all ready to see Papa!"

His voice sounded excited, this false sense of happiness used to tell Damien everything was fine. We all did it.

"Dami, say buh-byes to Jaybird."

"Buh-byeth to Jaybird," Damien mumbled, pouting.

"Alfred's gonna drive you, Tim, and Steph, I'm taking Cassie and Dames."

"Ok," I sighed, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand. I went out after him and we diverged before he could catch me.

~

Tim cried the hardest. Cassie didn't cry at all. Those looks that we gave each other, that my little brothers and sisters gave me, they didn't make my stomach sink. The kind words of Ms. Prince, even her hand on my shoulder, was mind numbing but it didn't break anything inside of me. Clark's hard look at the coffin did nothing but annoy me. The priest said "good man", "loving father", so on and so forth and the pit didn't knot.

But then they opened the coffin. Damien was holding Cassie's hand as she was holding him. Her face was hard and his was smiling because he was always trying to make her smile back. Then it grew so big when he saw Bruce.

"Papa!" he cooed happily, his hand wiggling from Cass' palm so he could throw his arms at him. "Alfed is makin' me tho-thogs and he thay he gonna make you one too!!"

"Cassandra, take Damien outside," Dick instructed, his eyes completely lost on Dad.

She nodded her head and pressed Damien back into her shoulder. He wiggled out of it, slipping to the floor and taking off back to the casket.

"Papa wake up!!" he chuckled, poking his cheek. "Papa!" And so suddenly, almost like he realized what was happening, he started to bawl. "Papa?! Papa wake up!! Wake up!!" he wailed.

I turned my back to him, linking my hand to Dick's backward as he was the closest thing for me to hold on to. Then there was him crying, not Damien but Dick. His face scrunched up and he lost his breath. His hand squeezed mine and he bowed his head. His voice drowned out into a hopeless noise and pushed out an incoherent rendition of 'Dad'.

"Papa?" And I think that little broken cry--- the cry of a little boy who just realized the only good thing he knew in the world was gone--- was what broke me.