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The Birthday Present	By : Kip Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 8478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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"Hi Moira."
"Sandy!" Moira smiled in delight. "Don’t you look fine? And Bruce too! Such a lovely fit pair of lads: you've obviously been taking good care of each other."
Bruce blushed under the unaccustomed praise; but Sandy accepted it as if it were his natural due and gave Moira a huge cuddle.
"Hugs too … You'll spoil me." She told him. "It was good of you both to come."
"Well, when you told us about your nephew, how could we not?" Bruce told her. "After all you did for us."
"Pish, you helped yourselves." Moira waved her goodbyes to the rest of the day staff as the trio left the ward. "Oh, it's been an awful day! I'm so glad to see a couple of healthy faces."
"Bad?" Bruce asked.
"The worst." She told him sadly.
Which meant that someone would never be going home ... During his visits to the Intensive Care Ward, Bruce had become familiar enough with the euphemisms that the nursing staff used. Looking at Sandy he thought again just how fortunate they had both been.

"Anyway, enough of that; we're off to the Happy Place!" Moira chivvied them into the waiting elevator.
"The Happy Place?" Sandy had never heard of it, judging by the look on his face. "You're going to take Bruce to a happy place? Aren't you worried that he'll get sick?"
"Oh, you cheeky monkey!" Moira scolded him mildly. "Poor Bruce, what you must put him through!"
"I'm so glad that someone else appreciates what it's like to live with Sandy on a regular basis." Bruce deadpanned. "No one else believes me."
"Oh, they must do?"
"Look at him, Moira? Would you, if you didn’t know him?"
"Oi! Stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here!"
"You aren't always all there." Bruce reminded him. Sandy made an exceptionally rude gesture and if Bruce hadn't been distracted, by feeling Sandy's other hand somewhere that it ought not to have been straying to in a public elevator, he might have objected more strongly.
"Behave the pair of you." Moira said firmly. "There are little children here, and we don’t want you teaching them bad habits." She looked at Sandy, "Finger signs and such."
"Sorry, Moira," Sandy looked so contrite that if Bruce hadn't known him better he might actually have believed that the blond meant it.
If Sandy is sorry, and it's a big 'if', then it's only because he got caught, Bruce reminded himself.

"My nephew, Adam," Moira was saying to Sandy, "Was brought in after a car accident a couple of weeks ago; but he's having a really hard time adjusting. I thought it might do him good to meet someone who's been through the hospital process too, it might show him that things aren't as bad as he thinks."
"I'll do what I can." Sandy promised.
"How do you get on with kids?" Bruce suddenly thought to wonder.
"They give me indigestion," The blond assured him, "Especially if I eat them late at night."
"He'll be fine!" Moira clucked over her ex-patient, "Because he's only a big kid himself!"
"Is this a conspiracy?" Sandy protested weakly as the elevator doors slid open.
"Is what a conspiracy?" A small voice asked from somewhere down by their knees.

"Claire! Come away from the doors, sweetie! People have to get in and out." A female voice warned. "I keep telling you, and if you don’t listen then one of these days you'll get squashed!"
Claire looked up at Sandy. "Did you come to see me?" She asked hopefully.
"I don’t think so." Sandy admitted.
"Oh." The small face was suddenly not so happy.
"But if you want to, and if it's alright, then I could talk to you too, as long as I can go and do what Moira asked me to come here for?" Sandy suggested.
The nurse who had arrived to take charge of Claire smiled at him. "Oh, I think that would go down rather well." She agreed. "What do you think, Claire?"
"I think he looks like the angel off the Christmas card!" Claire said.
Sandy laughed. "Oh, I'm not an angel, not at all."
Too right there… Bruce managed not to say that out loud.
"I think you are." Claire wasn’t going to be put off. "What's your name, anyway?"
"I'm Sandy, and it's very nice to meet you."
"I'm Claire, I'm six, and you're tall." She told him.
"Sorry, am I making your neck ache?" Sandy asked.
"Yes. But I don’t mind." Claire continued to crane her neck and look up at him.
"That's very sweet of you." Sandy knelt down so that he was more at her level. "Do you mind being picked up, Claire?"

"What?" Even as he asked the question, Bruce felt his eyeballs starting to fry. Six-year-old stares were only slightly less effective than adult ones. Thankfully the child quickly elected to ignore him and to focus back on Sandy instead.
"Well, it seems to me that if I were to pick you up and carry you, I could talk to you without making your neck ache," Sandy was suggesting. "And I bet you know your way around the ward and could help me find Moira's nephew, Adam. What do you say?"
"'Kay!" Claire flung herself at him, and Sandy scooped her up. Holding her with one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, he stood up. "Comfy, Claire?"
"Yes!" The level of enthusiasm generated by that small body was phenomenal.

Bruce hadn't been exposed to that many children, and the sea of little people currently milling around to investigate their visitors was beginning to unsettle him.
"It's the 'New Face' effect." The dark haired young nurse confided. "They have so few daytime visitors that anyone arriving gets mobbed at once." She smiled. "It's true that children can smell fear; but what most adults don’t realise is that they also can spot a complete sucker at five hundred yards. Don’t believe everything that they tell you though. We don’t beat them every day, or make them eat their greens through a tube."
"No?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"No." She grinned at him. "Beatings are alternating Tuesdays, and we only put yucky pink stuff through the feeding tubes."
"Well, that's nice to know." He managed to smile back, while watching Sandy wander off along the ward, still totally surrounded by tiny admirers.
"Your friend is good with children, isn’t he?" The nurse approved.
"Apparently." Bruce admired the view every bit as much as Sandy's skilful handling of the mini-mobsters.

"Mister…" A pair of large brown eyes in a small face was looking up at Bruce from somewhere at waist height.
"Yes?"
"Sandy says that you've both met Superman. Is that true?"
"It is." Bruce was very careful not to commit himself to anything. "Sandy and I both know Superman." Better than anyone else was ever going to find out...
"And the Flash?"
"Yes, and the Flash." He waited for a hint as to why this information should be required.
"Cool!" The boy announced. "He says it's true!" The little hooligan shouted, looking back along the ward
"Jerry, it's very rude not to say a person's name when you are talking about them, especially when they are still in the room with you." Another nurse corrected in passing.
"Oh." Jerry turned to Bruce. "Who are you?"
"I'm Bruce." Bruce decided to salvage a scrap of dignity. "Bruce Wayne, and who might you be?"
"I'm Jerry." The small boy smiled. "Hey you lot! Bruce here knows Superman! And the Flash!"
Oddly enough it didn’t seem to have occurred to the boy that both men might be collaborating on the same lie. Bruce cogitated on that: he would have bet money that little Claire wouldn’t have been quite so easily convinced.

"Flash is cool!" Another small boy announced. "Isn't he? And fast?"
"He's very fast." Bruce said honestly. "I don’t think I've ever met anyone who can move as fast as Flash does."
"Is it true what they say about him and Superman?" A slightly larger child asked.
Now what do I say? How could anyone know about THAT? Let alone someone outside the Justice League? Bruce desperately tried to think of how to phrase the answer to that one. He wasn't about to lie; but these were small children after all.
Bruce sighed with relief as he was saved by the proverbial bell…
"Adam is hiding." Returning, Sandy settled carefully on the chair beside Bruce's. "Apparently he's not in a good mood today."
"But is it true?" Another small boy asked. "Mister?"
Bruce noted with amusement that Claire seemed to have become permanently grafted to his blond friend. That little girl had excellent taste...
"Sorry, I didn’t hear the question. Is what true?" Sandy wondered.
"Is Flash faster than Superman?" There was a chorus of small voices.
"I don’t know." Sandy was as honest as ever. "You'd have to ask them."
"But we can't!" There was a wail of protests. "We don’t know how to find them!"
"I think we might be able to ask for you, next time we see them?" Sandy supposed. "Then I could phone Moira and she could tell Adam when she comes to visit. How about that?"
That idea seemed to go down well.
"Do you know the Batman?" Claire asked suddenly.
"I think it's fairly safe to say that we do." Sandy smiled. "Why?"
"Batman is my favourite." Claire confided. "I like Superman; but Batman is the best!"
"You really think that Batman is better than Superman?" Bruce couldn’t resist. It wasn’t often that he was one up on Kal.
"Yes." Claire regarded him with a penetrating gaze. "If I could meet anyone I'd want to meet the Batman." She returned her attention to the blond. "What's he like, Sandy?"
"Oh, Batman is very mysterious, and very private." Sandy assured her. "But between ourselves, I think he's quite a lot like Bruce." Something across the room caught his attention. "Moira says that Adam's coming over." He murmured quietly to Bruce.
"Claire, how about you sit with Bruce and ask him about the Batman? Bruce comes from Gotham, and he knows much more about all of that than I do."
Bruce gave him a look that could have curdled milk; but before he could protest, Claire had appropriated his lap, and was already making herself comfortable.
Patiently, Bruce sat there, surrounded by eager listeners, and tried to answer as many questions as possible, while toning his responses to a level that he thought most of them should understand.

"Oh, give the poor man a break!" The dark haired nurse was back. She looked at the adults. "It's time for the children's dinner; but you’re welcome to stay if you like?"
It was fairly obvious that special dispensation was being made for Moira and her 'assistants'.
"Can Bruce have some dinner with us?" Claire wasn’t about to relinquish her imperial throne for anyone.
"Don’t you think Bruce might have some dinner waiting for him at home?" The nurse suggested. "Maybe we should ask Bruce if he actually wants anything, Claire, before making assumptions?"
"Yes, would either of you like anything? A drink? A snack?" One of the other nurses asked. "Someone could get you a coffee, if you want? Or you could have something to eat here?"
"Really, not at the moment." Having caught a whiff of something, Bruce was not in the slightest bit keen to try any. The smell had instantly reminded him of school dinners, and as far as he was concerned, the only good thing about institutional food was that you no longer had to endure it once you were over school age…
"Sandy?" The other nurse blushed. "How about you?"
"Oh, no thanks." The blond smiled warmly. "Are you sure we're not going to be in your way?"
"I think Annie fancies you." A quiet voice said, from just beside them. "Normally she just gets grumpy with us when we don’t want any dinner."
"Maybe that's because Annie gets worried about you?" Sandy suggested. "It's not easy when you have to try and get people to eat, and they don't."
"I don’t want to eat." The quiet voice stated. "It hurts my throat."
Craning his neck slightly, Bruce could just make out a tall thin boy standing awkwardly behind Sandy. So that was Moira's nephew, Adam? How frail the child looked, no wonder Moira was so worried about him.

"No." Sandy agreed. "It isn't easy to start eating again when you've been really ill, is it?"
"Are you ill, Sandy? Like us, I mean?" Claire was instantly worried. "You don’t look ill; but I don’t either because I don’t cough all the time."
"I'm fine now," Sandy told her, passing her the cup that she was pointing at. "But I got hurt very badly a while ago, and I had to spend some time here in hospital."
"In this hospital?"
All of the children seemed interested in that. Bruce wondered if it was sympathy for a fellow inmate, or just pure nosiness?
"Yes," Sandy acknowledged. "A few floors up. Moira was my nurse."
"Aunty Moira only looks after coma patients." Adam said knowingly.
"What's a coma?" Claire asked, wriggling on Bruce's lap, until he had to give in and physically hold onto her so that she wouldn’t slip off his knees while she ate a forkful of potato.
"It's something you write in a sentence." One of the other children interrupted, around a mouthful of peas.
"Eww! You're so rude, Evan!" Claire made a face. "Isn't he, Sandy?"
"I expect Evan just forgot that he still had that in his mouth." Sandy smoothed the way. "But that's a comma. A coma is when someone looks like they're asleep only you can't wake them up. It doesn’t happen very often." He said, seeing the looks of alarm on various faces.
"And you couldn’t wake up?"
"No, and no one else could wake me either."
"Just like Sleeping Beauty!" One of the other little girls called out from across the table. "And Sandy even has long golden hair like in the story!"
"Did you have to be kissed?" Another small person wondered loudly.
Bruce had one of those moments, in which he very nearly choked; but managed to suppress it. He was even more grateful now that he hadn't accepted any food…

"Don’t be stupid." Claire infused the comment with every ounce of scorn that a six year old could supply. "Sleeping Beauty had to be kissed by a Prince, and Sandy is a boy."
"Man." Bruce automatically corrected. Oh god, he could sense himself being inexorably drawn into this! The ground was already falling away from under his feet. It didn’t help that he could hear Sandy and the nurses snickering.
"Yes." Claire took all of it in her stride. "Sandy can't be a Princess because Princesses are all GIRLS."
Bruce was obviously expected to confirm that, so he nodded obediently. It was easier.
"And Princesses have castles." The mini-mobster on his lap stated with authority. Apparently that was enough for the assembled crowd, as all of the heads around the table nodded, except for the girl whose suggestion it had been in the first place. "But Sandy does have golden hair." The other girl mentioned uncertainly.
"Sandy has curly golden hair." Claire twisted around in her seat so that she could look at Sandy. "So he could be a Prince?"
There was a general murmur of agreement.
Bruce thought it was a fascinating insight into the reasoning process of the underage mind, that and a very narrow escape.
"I'm not a Prince." Sandy laughed, "Thanks for the compliment though!"
Undaunted, Claire pointed toward one of the nurses. "Annie has long hair. Don’t you Annie?"
"I do have long hair." Annie agreed. "And before you ask, I'm not any sort of royalty; but I am a nurse and I do have to make sure that you eat all of your dinners before they get cold, so you'd better get on with it before I turn into the Wicked Witch."

Quiet descended, until dessert arrived. Shyly, Annie held out a bowl of fruit and custard to Sandy. "Would you like some?" She asked. "We've some spare?"
"Thanks." Sandy grinned, and as the nurse walked away, he winked at Adam. "I think you were right, Adam. She gave me trifle, she must like me." He picked up the spoon and had a lick of the topping. "Mmm! Tasty."
Adam stared.
"So if you couldn’t wake up, how come you're awake now?" Jerry interrupted, obviously burning to ask that question.
"Because, Sandy got better." Bruce filled in for his friend, while Sandy industriously chewed a mouthful of fruit chunks and whipped cream.
"You were really that ill?" Adam asked cautiously.
"Yep." The blond confirmed it, before devouring another spoonful, this time mainly of custard.
"But you look fine now." Adam said uncertainly, "And you've got all your hair."
"It grew back." Sandy smiled, licking a smear of custard from the corner of his mouth. "I expect yours will too."
"My hair all fell out!" Evan said happily.
"That's because you had chemotherapy, Evan." Annie was back. "Adam's hair had to be shaved off so that the surgeon could see what he was doing. Adam's hair is already growing back, yours is likely to take a while longer."
"Did they shave your head too, Sandy?" Evan asked,
Sandy chuckled. "Once, and I hated it when I woke up. It doesn’t suit me short, which is why I keep it long."
"I have scars." Adam commented, prompting an awkward silence.

"Most everybody here has scars." The dark haired nurse reminded him on her way past.
"Do you have scars, Sandy?" Evan asked.
"Yes," Sandy admitted. "A big one: nearly all the way round one side of my head, which is another reason why I like my hair long."
"Can I see your scar?" Jerry wondered.
"Yes, can we?" Several small voices pleaded.
"Not during dinner." Sandy smiled. "But maybe afterwards?"
"So what made you start eating again?" Adam asked, still glancing at the custard as if he wasn’t sure what to think about it.
"He likes food too much." Bruce put in.
Sandy gave Bruce a dry look. "You want to tell this, or shall I?"
"Oh, you can." Bruce said generously, "I'll be sure and correct you if you get it wrong."
"And he would!" Sandy told them, "Poor Bruce, when I started to get better I wasn’t really awake all of the time. My eyes were open; but I wasn’t really thinking properly. Bruce got very worried about me, and he ended up wearing a lot of my dinner."
"Did you spit it at him?" Someone piped up. "Adam spits his!"
"And that's Adam's business and not yours." Annie sighed, wandering past in a rustle of uniform.
"No, I don’t think I knew how to spit." Sandy smiled. "Which was lucky for both of us, wasn’t it?" He cast a cheeky glance at Bruce, who managed a mild glower. "From what I was told, I mostly threw it over people."
"You threw your dinner at Bruce?" One of the other children stared at Sandy. "I wouldn’t have done that! Bruce is a bit scary."
Bruce grinned and tried not to look embarrassed, or pleased.

"Bruce might look a bit scary; but he's also my friend," Sandy told the children. "And he put up with a lot while I was getting better: including me throwing things at him; even though he didn't deserve it." The sincerity in Sandy's voice had Bruce secretly swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat.
"So if it wasn’t Bruce that got you eating, who was it?" Evan called out.
"I know, I know!" Claire thought she had it figured. "It was Adam’s Aunty Moira, wasn’t it?"
"No, it wasn’t Moira," Sandy shook his head. "It was someone even scarier than Bruce."
"Scarier than Bruce? Was it the Batman?" One of the boys shouted from the other end of the table.
That made everyone laugh, including Sandy. "Can you see the Batman spoon feeding anyone?" He asked them.
Apparently they couldn’t.
Bruce couldn’t either. Absently, he wondered if he should have tried that? The suit would have wiped clean relatively easily…
Then again, custard and Kevlar… It didn’t exactly sound like a winning combination.

"No it wasn’t the Batman," Sandy deliberately kept his underage audience guessing. "It was someone even scarier than that…"
"Scarier than the Batman?" By the looks on their faces the wide-eyed children couldn’t conceive of anything scarier than the Batman.
Bruce didn’t know whether to be amused or mortified.
"Much scarier." Sandy told them. "I was sitting in bed, and she came in, and yes, it was a lady… Then she put the spoon in my hand and told me to eat it myself. So I did."
"You just went along with what she told you?" Bruce hadn't heard the details from Sandy's side before, and he was nearly as surprised as the children. "Just like that?"
"If you'd been in my situation, you would have too." Sandy replied, with a grin. "Wouldn’t you?"
"Yes, I guess I would." Bruce had to agree. Diana could be petrifying when she got into a mood with someone.
"So who was the lady?" Claire wanted to know.
Sandy leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Claire's eyes opened wider than ever. "Wow!" She said.
There was pandemonium around the table.
"If you all sit nicely, maybe Sandy will share that with the rest of you?" Annie suggested, collecting an empty plate and cup from the table top.
Sandy looked contrite. "Sorry… I didn’t think about that."
"I can just about see my way to forgiving you." Annie told him. "If you agree to stay for half an hour more, and occupy the demon horde until we've got the dinner things cleared away?"
"Deal." Sandy gave her 'the smile'.

"She definitely fancies him." Adam said knowingly.
"Well, if you want some advice, don’t embarrass Annie by letting anyone else know about that." Bruce warned quietly. "Ladies don’t like being embarrassed any more than guys do."
"Okay." Adam nodded. "Thanks."
"Here." Bruce pushed across the untouched bowl of dessert and the spoon that Annie had left beside him. "I hate this stuff, so maybe you can do me a favour and at least make it look like I tried it?"
The boy regarded him with undisguised suspicion.
"Of course, I'll blame any leftovers on you." Bruce reminded him. "Leave the lumps if you want; but try the custard and see how you get on." Weighing up the response he decided to add a sweetener. "If you can manage to get any of that inside you, without me having another custard bath, I'll tell you something about your Aunt that only a few people know."
"Really?" Adam dipped the end of the spoon in the custard and tested it with the tip of his tongue, seeming to decide that it wasn’t that bad.
"Really." Bruce watched as the boy spooned up a little more of the mix and made it vanish into his mouth. He wondered what Alfred would say about resorting to bribery to get the job done?
'Well done, sir', probably.
From across the room, Moira winked at Bruce and he felt a warm surge of satisfaction at having helped just a little.

After the children had been spruced up, nothing would keep them from milling around Sandy.
"I don’t mind showing you; but I don’t like being touched." Sandy told them gently. Subtly Bruce moved into place to ensure that nothing was allowed to go wrong...
"I don’t like anyone touching my scars either." One of the boys stated.
"Yeah, it's horrid!" Someone else agreed.
Adam said nothing; but Bruce noticed that he seemed a little less hesitant, and instead of standing in the doorway, the boy hung around a few paces away from Sandy.
Parting his hair, Sandy showed his audience the old scar that ran more than halfway around his head.
"There! Grisly enough for you?" He asked, shaking his hair back into place. Everyone laughed, including Claire; but when Sandy held out his arms, it was obvious that there was something not right.
"Claire?" Sandy knelt down. "What's wrong?"
The little girl shook her head, and started to cough.
"I'll fetch her inhalers!" Annie hurried off.
As the nurse left, Claire began choking for breath, her pale lips rapidly turning blue.
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The Birthday Present