Thomas visits

[moonshadows]

“You sure your son won’t be suspicious that you’re not there to meet him at the airport?” Terry asked, warily eyeing the cap he was holding.

Bruce snorted. “He’d be suspicious if I were there. He’d also pretend not to see me, and book a seat on the first plane back. You have the cap and the sign; as long as he sees those, he’ll go with you.”

“Jeez,” the teen muttered as he pulled the cap on. “And I thought I had a rocky relationship with my dad. Alright, I’ll be back in forty, give or take.”

Selina didn’t say anything until after Terry had left, and even then, she didn’t have to. Bruce sighed, not meeting his wife’s eyes, and his posture displayed an amount of guilt that would surprise an outsider.

“You’re right to be angry,” he said, jaw set resolutely. “I did a poor job raising Thomas without you. By the time he turned eighteen, he wanted nothing to do with Gotham, Wayne Enterprises, or me. He took your maiden name and his trust fund and moved to California, where he’s lived ever since. He’s an artist. Some sculpture, some painting, all of it good. He visits on his own terms, and the best way I can demonstrate my love and respect for him is to adhere to those terms.”

Gently, Selina laid one hand on his arm and he turned to pull her into an embrace, hugging her the same way he’d done over the last few days: as though afraid she would vanish at any moment.

“He visited after the heart attack,” Bruce whispered into her hair. “I tried to refuse but he insisted. We did a lot of yelling. He visited every year, and every year we screamed at each other. It…helped. You’re going to see us fight. Don’t blame him for it.”

“I make no promises,” she said dryly.

 

Bruce excused himself to prepare Thomas’s room, gently refusing Selina’s protests that she could help. In defiance, she set the small table in the kitchen with a tea service and a plate of the delicate biscuits Alfred had entrusted her with the recipe for, before he passed on. When her elderly husband returned, he took in the sight with a somewhat melancholy expression, but said nothing. It wasn’t long before the front door opened, and two pairs of footsteps echoed in the hall. Suddenly too excited to wait, Selina hurried for the source of the footsteps, Bruce trailing behind her. There was Terry, in the formal chauffeur’s outfit complete with cap, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind him. And there, holding a pair of soft carry-on bags-

“Thomas!” The other man looked up, and it was like seeing Bruce before she went into cryo, only tanned and more lean than broad bulk. “My precious boy,” she breathed, blinking back tears.

He set his bags on the floor and stepped forward gingerly, almost afraid to believe his eyes. “Mother!” The reluctance vanished, and he swept her into a hug nearly as crushing as anything she’d ever gotten from her husband. “You’re awake. You look as lovely as I remember.”

“Flatterer,” she teased fondly. “My little boy’s all grown up, and every bit as handsome as his father.” She pulled away enough to drink in the sight of him, her green eyes and chin under the tousled mass of Bruce’s black hair and the Wayne nose.

Thomas stiffened, gaze focused past her. “Dad.”

“Thomas,” Bruce said evenly.

“Shall we do this now and get it out of the way?”

Selina looked at her husband in confusion, but his eyes were fixed on their son.

“We’d better; there’s a new development. Terry, take off the cap.”

Equally confused but wary at the undeniable tension between the two men, the teen complied and shook out his hair. Thomas looked at him, really seeing him rather than just seeing the uniform, and his jaw tightened unhappily.

“So you’re the new Batman,” he said, making it sound like something vile to be scraped off a shoe. To Terry’s surprise, however, he turned back to Bruce. “I’m ashamed of you, Dad.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” the old man snarled.

“I suppose he just found the Batcave and happened to slip into the suit?”

Bruce smiled unpleasantly. “As a matter of fact…”

Thomas made a slashing gesture. “I’m not surprised at that, actually. I’m more surprised you’d do that to Mother.”

“I said, I had nothing to do with it!”

“You think I don’t recognize the family resemblance?” Thomas demanded hotly, one finger pointing at the startled and increasingly unhappy teen. “How are you not having anything to do with my having a brother?”

“He didn’t have anything to do with it,” Terry interrupted, his voice cold and hard. “He didn’t even believe I was his son until Mrs. Wayne pointed out the resemblance. Closest we’ve come to figuring out how is a hypothesis of someone using nanobots on my dad to rewrite his reproductive DNA.”

Thomas stared at him, the hot anger fading. “I see,” he said calmly. “My apologies then, Terry. And you really found the Batcave by yourself?”

“And stole the Batsuit, yes.”

The older man turned back to Bruce skeptically. “And you’re secretly pleased that you have a son to live vicariously through at last, aren’t you?”

“I never wanted any of you to put your lives at risk!” the old man roared, so furious that Selina took a step back involuntarily. “I don’t see how that’s so hard to understand! When did I ever encourage any of you to put on a costume and fight crime? What makes you think you have the right to disapprove of my choice?”

Thomas looking perfectly calm in the face of this verbal storm seemed unreal to Terry and Selina. “I’d lost my mother, Dad. I didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“Had no faith is more like it,” Bruce snarled.

“Dad, leave.”

Selina gasped. “Thomas!”

Where the words were as shocking as a slap to her face, they were also a slap to Bruce’s – but a sobering one. “It’s alright,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “This is one of the terms I agreed to.”

The three of them watched him stalk off into the house without an argument. Terry was the first to break the silence. “Uh…Mr. Kyle? Your bag is moving.”

And just like that, all the tension evaporated in the blaze of Thomas’s sunny smile. He dropped to one knee and unzipped the end of the domed bag, releasing a tiny mew and a lanky, white body. “Mother? I’d like you to meet Charles.”

The cat, clearly a Cornish Rex, padded over to sniff Selina’s outstretched hand before headbutting it imperiously. As she was debating scooping him up – her knees weren’t what they used to be – the tiny mew sounded from inside the bag again.

“Come on out,” Thomas cooed. “It’s okay. Where’s daddy’s little princess?”

“Mew,” protested the unseen cat as his hand fished around in the darkness of the bag, only to emerge with a fuzzy grey bundle of limbs and ears. Charles abandoned the fingers scratching him in favor of investigating the kitten, but found himself being lifted off the floor as Thomas stood.

“This is Victoria, Mother. She traces her lineage back to your Isis.”

Selina’s eyes filled with tears, and Terry awkwardly excused himself.

“When I moved out,” Thomas said quietly, “I took her pedigree with me and tracked down the owners of her kittens until I found one who was willing to sell. I’ve been raising Cornish Rex cats from her line ever since. Usually I don’t keep more than one adult at a time, two if the parent’s getting on in years, but I host the litters until they’re ready to leave their parents. The owner of Tori’s mother was scheduled to pick up both mom and babies two days ago. I thought the timing was perfect and asked to keep this one. She’s for you.”

“But…Ace…” Those were the only words she could form, her hands and heart completely occupied by the mewling month-old kitten.

“He loves the cats,” Thomas laughed. “I bring my adult every time I visit, and time my visits so I don’t have kittens to worry about. He’s met Charles and his mother Artemis, and they never had a problem with each other. Having a cat around when I visit helps Dad calm down,” he added as Charles settled himself on his shoulder. “They’re like spiritual extensions of you, or something.”

Words failing entirely, Selina stepped into a one-armed embrace and laid her head on her son’s shoulder, where Charles promptly nibbled her hair. Victoria clawed her way up her chest and sniffed her ear before meowing plaintively into it.

“Dad should have some treats in the pantry,” Thomas suggested. “It took me a while to really understand how big and soft a heart he has under that harsh shell. I thought he was bad when you were in cryo, but after the heart attack…” He shook his head. “Did he tell you that he pushed everyone away?”

Selina frowned up at her son. “No, he didn’t, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“He didn’t want to hurt anyone, so he pushed everyone away and kept everything bottled up.”

“That’s why you visited,” she said. “To give him an outlet.”

“He’s like a badly-socialized cat. I mean, that’s obvious, but…well…” He floundered to a halt, flashing her the boyish grin she’d seen on Bruce’s face many times. “He should be calmed down by now, and you can see us acting like father and son instead of two people who barely don’t hate each other.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she purred, disentangling Tori from her hair and cuddling her.

“Oh, one more thing.” Thomas looked embarrassed. “There aren’t any grandchildren. I’m-”

Selina put a finger to his lips, cutting off whatever he’d been about to confess. “You’re my son,” she said gently. “That’s all that matters. Besides, you gave me Isis’s great-great-grandkitten. That’s better than a grandchild, as far as I’m concerned.”

Terry met them just outside the kitchen.

“Do either of you need me for anything?” he asked. “Bruce is seriously creeping me out.”

Selina glanced at her son, then back at Terry. “What’s he doing?”

The teen grimaced. “Smiling. It’s unnatural.”

“We’ll be fine,” she told him, trying not to laugh.

“Great. I’m going out on patrol. I should be back in two or three hours.”

He wasted no time beating a deliberate retreat for the Batcave.

In the kitchen, Bruce was calmly pouring hot tea into china cups. He set the teapot down as they entered and smiled fondly at them – then the smile faded into astonishment at the leggy grey bundle in his wife’s hands. “Thomas?”

“Her name is Victoria,” the younger man said gently. “She’s Mom’s.”

“Is she old enough for treats? I know this rascal is,” he chuckled as Charles navigated the shoulder highway to sit on Bruce and purr.

“She’s only a month, Dad. She’ll need to be weaned. I brought some canned kitten food and some formula. You’ll need to-”

“I know what to do,” Selina interrupted gently. “I weaned Isis.”

“No treats for you, then,” Bruce said with mock sternness as he offered the kitten a finger to sniff, rub against, and chew. “Come on, Charles. Down you go.”

Gently, he dislodged the cat and set him on the floor by a china plate holding a handful of fish-shaped morsels. Then, hesitantly, he looked at his son.

“Dad,” Thomas said warmly, and stepped forward for a hug.

Bruce embraced him fiercely. “Thomas.”

“You unnerved Terry,” the younger man teased as they separated.

“I know.” Bruce pulled a chair out for Selina, then seated himself. “He saw me smiling. He’s not used to that.”

“He’s not used to this either,” Selina said as she kissed him on the cheek. He growled softly and turned to make it a proper kiss. When they parted, they found Thomas sipping tea and grinning at them.

“Oh, don’t let me bother you,” he said loftily. “I’ve waited most of my life to see my parents kiss again.” He shot Bruce a sly smile. “Although, if Mom keeps that up, we might have to forego our nine o’clock fight.”

The older man lavished an affectionate look at his vaguely-disapproving wife. “I don’t think I’d object to that.”

Thomas feigned shock. “Dad! What about tradition!”

“Tradition can go to hell,” growled the older man. “You’ve put up with my bad habits too much already.”

“Good, Dad. Good.” The serious tone he’d used lightened back into teasing, and he brandished a biscuit. “You get a cook- sweet City of Angels, are these Alfred’s tea cookies?” He looked up at his mother, eyes wide and trembling like a child’s. “I haven’t had these since…”

“Alfred taught me the recipe,” she said smugly, taking a bite of one. “As a wedding gift.”

“My parents kissing, my father making real steps towards getting his head straightened out, and Alfred’s tea cookies.” Thomas shook his head slowly. “Either I’m going to be very disappointed when I wake up, or I may have to move back to Gotham at some point.”