The Children

There are so many children.

They're sitting around a tiny fire inside a broken down warehouse, warming their hands and throwing poker cards at eachother and eating old, expired canned food. Bruce watches as one, a tall blond girl, leans out and puts her hands close to the flames, palms up. She stares into the fire and gets as close as she can, like she knows that the warmth will not be here forever and that the cold will soon replace it. A tiny boy with brown hair and an expression on his face that is much too adult-like for someone of his age is trying to read a dusty manual for something. He's concentrating so hard, but it's obviously confusing him, and Bruce has to smile when he realizes that the book is upside down. Two other boys are sitting very close together, their hands linked and their foreheads pressed together. They're obviously twins, with the same black hair and bright blue eyes and pale skin. Telepathic, if Bruce has to guess, and he would say they're strong ones too by the way the fire crackles just a little bit more at their focus and the windows clatter a bit even though there is no wind.

"Damian needs more food," a girl with green skin and red hair says despondently. She is holding a very tiny boy in her arms, probably no more than two or three years old, and he looks badly malnourished (though no more than the rest of them, it still looks worse on a toddler).

"We don't have anymore. This can is the last one, and the pineapples are green. No way am I giving him this crap," Blondie snaps, throwing the can inside the fire and watching as it crackles and spits. The green girl watches it go with something like despair, as if she would have been very willing to eat it if Blondie had asked her opinion.

"We should have left him, if you ask me."

"Roy!"

"What?!"

Roy is the boy to the green girl's left, with cropped red hair and a perpetual scowl on his face. He looks stronger than the rest of them, though still not well-fed, and he could use a good shower in Bruce's honest opinion. "He's nothing but baggage. It probably would've been better for him to die in the cold anyway. Not like we aren't all gonna starve anyway."

Other than a silent, stern looking boy as big as Roy is, who is sitting very close to the green girl, their arms touching and their shoulders pressed against eachother, there is no one else. Bruce watches them bicker for a few more minutes, but after a while he knows it's time to step in. The baby of the little pack of rugrats – Damian, they said his name is? – looks very unhealthy and is eerily silent for someone of that age. He hasn't moved for a long time and his eyes are closed and Bruce thinks that the green girl was very much right when she said that the baby needed more food. He is starving and fading and dying and there isn't time to spare anymore.

"Children."

At Batman's gruff voice, the kids are scrambling up with fear written plainly on their faces. The twins are gripping eachother tightly, wincing as they are assaulted by their friend's strong emotion as well as their own.

The green girl has changed somehow, blended with the wall, but she is still visible enough for Batman to see. Roy and Blondie have stepped very close together and Batman wonders if they're siblings, though he doesn't show his curiosity by asking. "Come with me."

"Why should we?!" Blondie snaps, her hands balled and her face lined with exhaustion and blatant rebelliousness. "We don't even know who you are or where you'll take us and we aren't going to be separated!"

"There are eight of you. You won't be safe in Gotham for very long and it's too cold to survive without food and warmth," he reasons gruffly. "So come with me."

He can see her failing to keep up the act. She's obviously the leader, even Roy is looking to her for direction, and both Bruce and her know that she doesn't have any direction. It's actually rather sad, the way she fights to keep up the calm and in control exterior, but Bruce – or, Batman for now – can very well see through the cracks.

"Where will you take us?"

"Somewhere safe."

'Safe' is such a foreign word, but such a welcome one in their small group. The green teen smiles pleasantly, as if she's thinking of better times and safer days and the twins are looking very curious now, as if they think it might be worth going with them if they have a roof over their head at night.

She sees them.

Sees the looks, sees that they want safety more than anything else in the world.

And the only person who has ever offered it to them –

Is Batman.

"We'll come. For now."

"Good."

.

.

In the end, Artemis understands that there never really was an option. Batman would have very well taken them with him whether they liked it or not. He led them to a very big house several miles from the warehouse they were staying in. He calls it a manor and says that a man named Bruce Wayne will help them if they ask for it.

Artemis doesn't bother telling him that Bruce Wayne is portrayed as a snobbish playboy on the news who throws out money to charities and pretends to himself that they aren't all corrupted from the inside out.

No, Artemis doesn't tell him.

She doesn't honestly think he would listen if she did, and she's probably right.

Nevertheless, Artemis knows she didn't come all this way just to sit around and stew in the cold. So she straightens her back and, noticing immediately that Batman has disappeared and left them to their fate, stiffly pushes the doorbell. There is a moment of tense silence, before the door opens and an old man smiles gently at them. "Ah. Yes, please come in."

She hopes this isn't going to turn out like those cheesy horror movies, where the butler invites them in and then kills them and scatters their bits around the lawn –

"Thanks!" Of course Megan is the one to speak first. Her smile is so bright that it literally hurts to look at, but she's the only one who doesn't look remotely uncomfortable with walking into a strange house in the middle of the night. "C'mon, you guys."

They file inside, the twins in the middle and Connor and Roy at the rear. Artemis thinks she sees Jason swipe a doily and a very expensive looking pen on the way in, but she's too preoccupied to take much notice of it. Besides, who really cares? If Jason could get his hands on an entire vault, she doesn't think she would stop him. It isn't like they'll be here for very long, if all those things about Bruce Wayne she heard are true.

Despite her worries, though, Artemis has to sigh at the sudden warmth from the heater and the smells of good food coming from the kitchen.

Tim looks nothing but worried. He still has his hands tightly around that old manual, half his face hidden by the cover. He's scared, but there's also curiosity in his eyes – there always is. She has to smile at the awed wonder etched on his face as he glances around the enormous living room. It's huge and so is everything else, the kitchen included, and all Artemis can think is how much food do they have in there?

Jason is agitated by the whole thing. He's only ever seen rich people as pompous and self-serving, so it must be absolute torture for him to accept help from the wealthiest man in Gotham City. He gives her a long hard stare and telepathically sends her a question – 'how long do we have to stay?' – through the mental bond they and all the rest share. She shrugs and he makes a small growling noise under his throat. Dick presses as close as he can and Jason stifles the complaints rising to the surface, if only because his twin looks so very happy to be out of the chill.

"Why, hello there."

They all turn simultaneously to face Bruce. He's standing in a white shirt and jeans, dark hair swept out of his eyes and a smile on his face that looks way too natural. Artemis steps forward, because she's the leader and that's what everyone expects, but Bruce is obviously directing his next words to the entire group. She feels a little irked about that for some reason and she isn't sure why, but she tries to trap the feeling and push it down as far as it will go.

"So, kids, tell me about yourselves."

"No," Artemis replies sharply. He pauses, his smile drops and an eyebrow raises.

"No?"

"Yeah. No. As in, if you want to help us, we don't mind – but we also aren't unloading our backstories to you."

"That's fine then."

Wow, she didn't expect him to go along with it so easily. But at least he's letting her keep her personal life to herself. She swallows back the argument she had prepared and watches as he steps a little closer. There is concern on his face now and it's plainly directed at the tiniest member of their party.

"Follow me," and the authority in that demand is so much like Batman that Artemis has to blink to get the resemblance out of her head. Megan doesn't hesitate. She flies forward (literally) with anxiety in her voice as she asks if he has any food Damian could eat or any medicine he could take.

"My dear, we have spare rooms to spare," The butler says with a small smile. "And after he is safely in bed, I would be happy to take care of his health and the food as well."

"Oh, thank you so much!" she practically cries, shifting the little boy in her arms. His eyes are still closed and he's breathing rather shallow. Bruce is looking more worried by the second. He gestures to the stairs and Megan follows him, while Alfred herds the rest of the children up behind them. Artemis looks around for points of exit, growing warier by the second, but her gaze is soon drawn to the pictures hanging up on the walls. Some are of a younger Bruce and a butler with less gray hair and less stress lines on his face. But there are no parents in those pictures and Artemis finds herself becoming sad looking at them, because Bruce's smile is not as happy as it should be and even though it's only a picture she can still tell that there is less happiness and more anger hiding beneath the surface, at least there was. And that's what really baffles her. On the Bruce she sees now, there is no anger. Only concern for them that she doesn't understand.

What made him lose it?

She herself can understand what anger feels like. Her mother was in jail for months before they released her and even after that the woman was never the same. She got back into drugs, died of an overdose, and god only knew where Artemis' father had gone off to.

Yes, she knows anger.

She knows hate. She knows what wanting revenge feels like, and right now she still wants it – wants to see the fear in her father's eyes and wants to see him die a horrible, terrible death like her mother had to endure. Or, better yet, she wants to see him rot in prison for the rest of his life and she wants it to be hell for him, because he doesn't deserve anything less.

But she, a penniless street urchin who has too much responsibility and too little resources, cannot have revenge. So the anger stays and she holds it close to her heart so that she will never forget that the shit life she's led so far is all her father's fault.

"Miss…?"

She turns to see the butler regarding her with a raised eyebrow not unlike Bruce's. This expression is curious and not degrading, so she smiles a little nervously and shrugs. "Ah, sorry. I was just looking."

"Master Bruce was rather young in those pictures. That was over twenty five years ago," his eyes are a bit unfocused as he stares at the images, as if he's thinking of a time and place much different from this one. "He was so young…"

"Where are his parents?" Artemis asks before she can stop herself.

"Ah, the previous owners of this estate died when Master Bruce was ten years old."

"Died, huh? Mine too."

And with that she turns on her heel and catches up with the others, leaving Alfred to stare at the pictures of a younger Bruce Wayne who is angry and hurt and yet happy, just a little, because there is always someone in those pictures with him. It is apparent to Artemis that Bruce had people to care for him, even after his parents had gone. Artemis no longer feels sorry for Bruce Wayne. Instead she feels resentment, because she never had anyone to care for her after her mother's death. She doesn't know the kindness of Alfred or what it feels like to have friends who do not rely on her to keep them safe and fed and warm.

She feels older than she is, like a mother with children who she cannot protect no matter how hard she tries. And she doesn't like feeling this way, with the weight of the world (or at least the weight of seven other individuals) on her shoulders. But she does and the situation is what is. Artemis Crock is alone, and Bruce has not been, no matter where is parents are or what happened them. No, Bruce Wayne does not know what it is to be truly alone in life.

Tim has stopped on the staircase to wait for the blond, his blue eyes drooping with fatigue and his little fingers clutching the book a bit less fiercely than before.

"Artemis?" he says, yawning tiredly. She smiles and sweeps him up into her embrace, smoothing his brown hair down and tucking his head against her shoulder. "Can we… stay?"

"Maybe for a little while. We'll get some food, sleep here for the night. Maybe even get breakfast in the morning. But you know we can't stay here forever, Timmy."

"I wish…" and his tiny voice is now tapering off into sleep, "…that we could stay forever."

She doesn't bother saying anything more to him. He's already fast asleep and she catches the book he was reading before it can tumble to the ground. She looks it over, sighing at the sorry state it's in. But she won't throw it away, not ever. The last time she tried, Tim had cried (and that was something the little boy almost never did) so Artemis had not attempted to get rid of it a second time. The book was very special to Tim for reasons she did not understand, but she would allow him his small comforts.

Artemis quickly finds the room that Damian and the others are in. There are two twin beds, one of which Damian has been settled into, and an IV is hooked up to the youngest boy's arm (Artemis has no idea where they found one of those, but she supposes Bruce could fit an entire hospital in this manor if he wanted to). His hair is damp with sweat and his face looks paler than before, but at least he's breathing stronger and his eyes are open. Artemis sets Tim down on the second bed before shifting over to sit beside Damian, carding her fingers through his hair. He shifts to face her, tear stains on his cheeks. Clearly he doesn't approve of someone putting a needle in his arm and might've been scared as well. He is only three years old, after all.

"He's alright now, I think," Megan says, floating beside Artemis. There's a relieved look on her face, but she's still watching Damian like he might disappear at any second.

"He put up quite the fight when I tried to give him the IV," Bruce says quietly, alerting Artemis to his presence. She turns toward him and scowls.

"Yeah, so would I if some strange man was sticking a needle in my arm."

"I don't think I'm that strange," Bruce replies, amused.

"I'm just really glad he's okay," Megan interrupts their tense banter with a grin that's much too large to be real.

"Right," Connor agrees, though Artemis suspects he's really only saying it for the sake of agreeing with Megan and not because he actually gets the situation. Connor has been like that from the very beginning. He doesn't understand life in general and often asks strange questions about 'humans' like he isn't one. It's a bit disconcerting.

"Then if you're all fine, I think it's time we got some food into you!" Bruce is smirking now. "Alfred's cooking is the best in the world, you know."

.

.

One night turns into two and two nights turn into three.

Tim isn't sure how it happens, but he can slowly see that the other kids are becoming very comfortable in Wayne Manor. With the exception of Artemis, who seems as disgruntled with accepting Bruce's help as ever, the rest seem as if they're beginning to settle in. It's understandable. Roy in particular has not been with them long and he can probably remember better than the others what it's like to have a home and the twins have been in foster care multiple times, so they are used to clean water and generally good food. Tim can remember home as well, but his was not like this one. He has vague memories of a silent house and disapproving looks from his mother and sympathetic ones from his father. But he cannot really remember the color of his parent's eyes or what exactly they ever said to him when he was in their care.

So no, he has never known a home like this one.

Still, no one is completely comfortable even if they like the warmth of the house and the food that Alfred makes. As far as Tim knows, Jason and Dick have not stopped holding hands since the second they entered the building. Dick is a bit more at ease with the situation, but Jason's eyes cannot stop looking around for exits and valuables. He is obviously still wary of Bruce's goodwill, since everything good has usually come with a price in their lives.

Tim can understand his feelings on the matter.

"Master Dick, would you like some more potatoes?"

Tim turns to watch as Dick nods enthusiastically and Jason scowls. Alfred heaps more food onto both of their plates even though Jason has not expressed his desire for more. The butler is clearly trying to fatten them all up.

"Would anyone else like second helpings?" Alfred asks. Connor raises a hand and Megan smiles with a loud 'Yes sir!' springing from her lips. Artemis looks annoyed and shakes her head, while Roy just shrugs and Tim doesn't say anything. Nevertheless, Alfred does not hesitate to pile more potatoes and eggs and bacon onto each of their plates, regardless of what their responses were to his question. Damian claps as if applauding the butler's goal of making them all obese by the end of the week and digs into his own breakfast with gusto. He smears eggs all over his face and hair, but he's sporting a small smile, so they leave him be.

"Artemis," Jason says quietly. Suddenly the whole table is quiet, because when Jason speaks it's usually worth listening to (well, usually, when he isn't insulting someone). "Let's get out of here today?"

It sounds like a question, but everyone can very obviously hear the final note in his voice. He doesn't want to stay, he won't stay, not unless someone chains him down or convinces him otherwise (which is pretty much impossible. No one has ever managed to sway Jason Todd).

Alfred has paused right before pouring a cup of hot tea, but he doesn't look surprised. Tim wonders if Alfred knew this would happen – he seems like the type to understand these things. And Jason really isn't all that hard to get, deep down. He's all rage and fire and terribly, irrevocably, Jason Peter Todd.

"Jay…" Dick replies quietly, his voice catching. "That – that isn't polite."

"We can't stay," he snaps. "We can't and I won't."

Tim sighs and shifts down in his seat, hiding his eyes behind his mop of brown hair. He doesn't like this, doesn't like it at all, because he knows Jason is seconds away from blowing up emotionally. Jason doesn't have a good control on his temper and telekinesis doesn't help – especially when he can feel everyone's trepidation, can feel that they don't agree with him. And there is nothing Jason hates more than being on his own when it comes to having an opinion or wanting something. And he does, he wants to leave, needs it even. Tim can see that familiar itch of insanity that's closing him in, making him panic because he needs to be on the run, to keep moving.

But Jason cannot leave without the rest of them.

With that realization, his focus, the barrier keeping his emotions in check, seems to snap entirely. Tim jumps back from the table as it flips and so does everyone else, running to avoid flying food and plates. In any other situation it might have even seemed comical, but this is Jason and Jason doesn't joke. It's dangerous and he is dangerous. Dick knows this better than anyone, which is why he grabs his brother in a tight grip and shoves their heads together and mumbles under his breath – calm down, calm down, calm down, I'm here, Jason, it's okay, calm down – and both of them are breathing hard and hurting because their emotions are too strong and fear is permeating the room.

"Help – " Dick pleads, then louder, repeats, "Help us!"

It must be serious, Tim thinks, if Dick is admitting that they need help. Jason is out of control and reckless and there is a big chance that people could get hurt if the both of them aren't able to calm it down. Artemis is standing close, her hand outstretched, but she stops just short of touching them. It's been an unspoken rule for the long months that the eight of them have been together. Do not mess with the telepaths.

Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos, there is Bruce Wayne. He's taken Artemis by the shoulders and steered her out of the way, then leaps into the twin's personal space without a second of hesitation. Tim and the rest of the kids stare openmouthed as Bruce shoves Dick away from Jason. At the break of contact, a low whine springs from Dick's mouth and he looks positively sick to his stomach, but Bruce quickly instructs Connor to hold him, dammit, and don't let him go and the boy is strong, stronger than any of them, so it doesn't take much to restrain Dick.

"Jason, stop."

It's an order, a command, a demand and Jason's eyes shoot open and he's panicking because he doesn't want to leave, but he does, and everything is so confusing and he isn't used to feeling confused. He's used to feeling cold and hungry and thirsty and unloved but here he is none of those things. And so, logically, he should stay here, but he wants to go because he knows that he'll eventually be kicked out anyway – what other ending is there, when he's been kicked to the side so many different times in his life?

"D-Dick –"

"Is fine," Bruce finishes, "He's fine. You're fine. You're both just fine, and you don't have to leave. I won't make you leave and if you do, I'll make damn sure you never feel hungry or alone again, no matter where you are."

"I want – Dick – I want – him –"

"Jason, it's too dangerous right now. By connecting, your emotions are just doubled. It won't make things better –"

"I want my brother!" Jason is screaming now. He pulls away from Bruce and tries to get around him, but the older man is bigger and he grabs the boy again, holding him in place. Jason grits his teeth and tries not toexplode – he tries, he really tries – but Bruce is pushing his buttons and he's never been tested like this before. It's too much, it's too much –

"Jason! If you keep this up, you're going to hurt your friends," Bruce says this in an eerily quiet voice, his tone firm. "Stop."

Jason makes an effort this time, because he knows Bruce is right.

It takes a long ten minutes, but Dick's twin is finally able to reign himself in. He's breathing hard by the end of it and Dick is crying and exhausted from trying to fight against Connor. Of course, the older dark haired boy has not moved and looks decidedly nonplussed by the whole ordeal.

"That was… chaotic," Tim offers quietly. He receives a tired glare from Jason and Dick manages a watery smile before embracing his brother in a tight hug.

"We don't have to leave today," Jason finally mutters. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Yeah," Dick agrees, pressing his face into his twin's shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow."

.

.

It is three days later and dinnertime when Bruce broaches the subject that they have all been dreading.

Dick swallows thickly when the man begins by saying I have an announcement to make and everyone else tenses. He doesn't really register Jason's arm around his shoulder, but it's there – warm and comforting. They both know what's coming next because they've heard it a thousand other times. It starts with an announcement and ends with an orphanage. Every single time, without fail.

Thus, it is quite the shocker when Bruce continues.

"I've decided to foster you."

Silence drapes the room like a blanket. The atmosphere is still tense and everyone is waiting for Bruce to tell them the punch line, because this has to be a joke. That, or this man is absolutely and utterly insane. Dick comes to that conclusion rather quickly and he can feel Jason's agreement.

"What?!"

Predictably, Artemis is the one who speaks first. She's their leader, the one in charge, and obviously she doesn't approve of Bruce taking her command. "I said," Bruce repeats slowly. "That I've decided to foster you. All of you."

"That is completely illogical," and there Tim goes again, with big words that he shouldn't logically know.

"Right!" Artemis shouts in agreement, "You're single and rich but that doesn't mean you have the time to take care of all eight of us –"

"You're right, I don't have a lot of time. And I can't promise that I'll be the perfect guardian. But having a guardian is better than not having one at all, don't you think?"

"We're better off without that!"

"Kids need a parental figure –"

"The hell they do! Why do you think we were on the streets in the first place? It's not because we liked it out there! Most of our parents were complete douchebags. So don't you dare try to tell me that we need them!"

"I said you needed a parental figure," Bruce corrects quietly, gently, "And you seem to have gotten the wrong idea. Just because two people birthed you, that doesn't make them good parents or even parent material at all. I said you need a parent, but I never said that you've had a real one before."

Dick can see the younger kids sucking all this in with unabashed hero worship on their faces. Even Damian, who obviously doesn't understand the situation fully, is absolutely enthralled by Bruce and trusts him implicitly after only knowing him for a short time. He can't deny that he himself is feeling the same, if only a bit. He doesn't really trust Bruce yet, but he thinks maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have a roof over his head (especially since it's the middle of winter right now and freezing cold outside).

"I won't accept this," Artemis replies, but her answer is feeble at best.

"Where will you go? You'll die in this cold and there's no way I'm kicking you out at this point. Either stay with me or I'll have to contact child services. In the end, you'll all either be sent back to your parents or to foster homes or orphanages. In any case, separation is unavoidable."

"Artemis," Dick interrupts before the blond girl can go on arguing, He doesn't have to say it, really, because she knows what he wants – what they all want – and what they need, in the end. It's all very irritating that she doesn't have a choice, of course, but at least the choice is better than foster homes and cold warehouses.

"Alright, we'll call a trial period, then," Artemis relents, "But no matter what the papers say, we can and will leave if we want to."

There is silence for a long time, and then Bruce smiles.

"If that happens, I'll find you."

.

.

A/N; lookit this crazeh thing. I don't know how it go to to be five thousand words. I got carried away? This is obviously AU, so don't get your panties in a twist when you notice some things aren't canon. There will be more to come! Hopefully with even longer chapters. I'm a huge fan of big chappies, so. Yay.