Gifts From the Sea, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Batfam Bingo 2019: AU: Zoo
Chapter 22 - Mother (rough draft 2)
Bruce finally managed to track down Jason's biological mother. Dressing inconspicuously for that run-down part of town and disguising his face so the tabloids wouldn't catch wind of his odd activities, he waited until he saw her leave the shabby, unmarked building where she worked and fell into step beside her. "Sheila Haywood," he said in a low voice, "I need to talk to you about your son, Jason Todd."
She stopped and stared at him. "Who the hell are you?"
"I work for Jason's foster father. He is interested in adopting the boy."
She lolled her head away and gave a dark chuckle, reaching into her purse for a cigarette and lighter. "Little bastard's still alive, huh."
Bruce forced his jaw and fists to unclench. "Yes. What are your expectations regarding your relationship with him?"
"I don't give a shit about the brat my rapist ex knocked me up with."
Bruce had to remind himself that the woman had been victimized and that her lack of care for her child was good news for him. It was devastating for Jason, though, which was why he would soften the blow as much as he could when the time came to tell him. "Then you'd be willing to voluntarily terminate your parental rights? My employer will cover any expenses."
Sheila exhaled a cloud of smoke, gazing at him thoughtfully. "I want to meet him."
"...All right," Bruce ground out. Jason had desperately been wanting to meet his mother as well, he couldn't stand in the way of that. "Supervised visit. You'll sign the forms then."
"Fine, whatever," she grumbled, turning away and starting to walk off.
Bruce had to catch her to give a time and a meeting place. "Can you make it there all right?"
"Let go," she said harshly. Bruce did so grudgingly and clenched his teeth in frustration as he watched her leave.
o.o.o
The restaurant, which was fairly near Sheila's area of town, had once been nice but now looked aged and tired. Bruce had brought his family lawyer and a notary along with Jason, paying for their time because he wanted to get the paperwork out of the way as soon as possible.
Jason was nervous, which meant he was fidgety and rebellious. Bruce quickly gave up doling out instructions to fix his behavior and instead resorted to redirection, which worked a lot better when Jay was in a mood like this.
They were watching an episode of Wishbone on Bruce's phone when Sheila finally arrived, over thirty minutes late, accompanied by two grungy men and a third with overly-slicked hair and an ill-fitting suit. As far as Bruce could tell, she wasn't wearing any of the same clothing she had been when he met her earlier, and he wondered if her seal pelt was beneath her outer clothes. He wondered if pelts could change appearance or if they were 'stuck' in whatever their initial disguised form was. He wondered how they or their owners decided what form to take in the first place-
'Focus.' "That's her," Bruce murmured to Jason, though he was watching the approaching men with an uneasy feeling in his gut. He himself had brought people other than Jason, it wasn't a shock that Sheila hadn't come alone, but he would have expected a friend or two for moral support or maybe an acquaintance with experience in law, rather than...this.
Jason immediately jumped out of his chair and ran a few steps, but came to an abrupt halt, staring. "...Mom?" he finally said.
She gave him a tight smile. "Hi, sweetie."
He fidgeted, eyes darting around at their little audience, and shifted into a forced-casual pose. "Hi."
Sheila leaned to give him a stiff, awkward hug, then moved on to the table. "You're paying, right?" she said sharply to Bruce as her companions made themselves at home.
"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. It wasn't that he minded paying for the entire meal; what he minded was the atmosphere, how wrong this all felt for a long-lost parent's reunion with her child.
Jason hovered uncertainly for a moment, then his face hardened and he stalked to the table. Sheila and one of her companions had not chosen the expected seats, which meant they'd have to move if Jason was to sit between his guardian and his mother. "I wanna sit next to my mom."
The man in the wrong seat grinned at him unpleasantly. "People don't always get what they want."
"She's my MOM!" Jason exploded. "I haven't seen her since I was a baby!"
"Oh, just move, Harris," Sheila snapped, rolling her eyes. After a long pause, Harris got up and made a long, noisy production out of relocating himself next to Bruce, who was doing mental exercises in an effort to keep his temper. Jason plopped down in the vacated chair and scooted close to his mother, who edged away without looking at him. Jason ducked his head, looking crestfallen.
Luckily, at that moment a waitress bustled up to take their order, and Bruce was saved from having to growl something ill-advised.
Sheila simply ordered a fish burger, but all three of her companions ordered a slew of the most expensive things on the menu (not that they were actually expensive compared to the sort of restaurants Bruce was used to frequenting in Gotham). Jason defiantly asked for nothing but fries and a milkshake, so when the waitress got to Bruce, he ordered more food than he needed, planning to share with Jason when the kid inevitably got hungry.
Once the waitress retreated, everyone was left either staring at each other or averting their eyes. Bruce desperately tried to think of something to say that wouldn't give away the fact that Jason and presumably Sheila were mythological creatures, but failed.
"Why'd you leave Dad?" Jason finally burst out.
Sheila stared at him contemptuously. "Why does anyone seize her chance to leave a man who blackmailed her into marriage?"
Jason scuffed his feet uncomfortably, having just realized that his biological parents' relationship was the stereotypical horrific selkie story. "Sorry," he whispered as if it was his fault he'd been forcibly conceived. Bruce set a hand on his knee to comfort and reassure him, and Jason rested his hand on top of Bruce's. He fidgeted and then straightened his shoulders, though he scowled at the table's surface as he spoke. "So you never wanted me."
Sheila lit a cigarette. "I never said that."
Jason's head shot up and he gave her a sharp look.
She smiled tightly at him. "You're not your father. It's...nice to meet you. Son."
"Yeah," Jason mumbled. Bruce felt tense with anxiety. Sheila had never actually promised to give up her parental rights, after all.
The awkwardness continued until the food came, at which point Sheila ignored everything but her burger and her companions all enthusiastically tucked in. Bruce's party ate more delicately, occasionally exchanging a murmured comment or two, and Jason basically dissolved one fry after another in his milkshake without going so far as to eat most of them. Most of the noise at their table was from Sheila's companions, whose conversation got louder and more inappropriate as they consumed more and more beer.
Bruce finally asked his son, "Jason, is there anything else you wanted to ask or say to your mother?"
"No," the boy growled, looking upset.
Bruce firmly set down his fork announced, "Then let's get down to business. Ms. Haywood, if you're finished, I'd like to get the paperwork over with."
Sheila didn't answer at first. She looked at her companions, none of whom noticed her. Her face twisted, and from the reactions, she might have kicked them under the table. "Oh...yes, certainly, I'll get the car," the one in the sleazy suit said, and took some of his unfinished food along when he left.
When the other men didn't take much notice of Sheila's prompting, she hissed at them, "Jones, Harris, go to the fucking bathroom already. You know how constipated you get when you eat this shit."
The men swore and complained, but finally got up and slowly made their way to the back of the restaurant. Bruce's companions were staring at him in disbelief. He surreptitiously nodded at Jason as if to say, "We're doing this for him, to get him out of here." Their faces softened in acknowledgment.
Sheila cleared her throat. "Jason, ehrm...I'd like to talk to you for a minute, before I sign anything."
" 'Kay," Jason said warily. Sheila got up, but he didn't move.
There was a pause. "In private," Sheila clarified.
"Bruce is gonna be my dad," Jason said, and Bruce released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of him."
"They're not going to be your parents, too, are they?" Sheila snapped, nodding at the others. "In private, Jason. Let's go."
"Don't order me around, bitch!" Jason yelled. "You left me, you're not my mom! Catherine's my fucking mom, not YOU!"
"Just come outside and talk to me for ONE MINUTE you little-! Son," Sheila ground out, making a visible attempt to rein in her temper. "I'll sign the papers after. Just come let me talk to you for one minute."
"I'm going with you," Bruce said at once. "This isn't the safest area of town and I'm not going to leave Jason and...his mother unprotected in an alley."
Sheila gave him a hard look, then turned away and started texting as she headed out of the restaurant. Bruce nodded at his companions and followed after her with his arm heavy around Jason's shoulders.
Outside, Sheila did indeed lead them into the alley behind the restaurant, far deeper than Bruce was comfortable with, until he stopped and growled, "That's far enough." Jason was clinging to his shirt by now.
Sheila sighed and turned to face them. "Fine. Jason, I...I love you. And...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. Growing up. I was having a hard time, and I didn't have energy to spare for anyone else."
"I get it," Jason ground out. "Apology accepted. Sign the papers so you don't have to fu- freakin' worry about me anymore."
"I just- Could I just-" Sheila's eyes flicked around restlessly. "Could I get a picture?" she burst out. "A...selfie. You and me, my...wonderful baby boy."
"No! Bruce, I wanna leave. Dad, I wanna leave."
Bruce, who had started complying even before the 'Dad,' found his way blocked when Sheila darted in front of him. "Just a quick one!" she said desperately. "Here, I-" She dipped her head down beside Jason and took an awkward photo. Bruce didn't even have to get a good look to know that Jason was scowling in it. "How about one with a hug?"
"Let go of me, bi-!"
Then the air split, and Bruce panicked. He was wrapped around Jason before he even realized he'd moved, shaking, nearly in tears at the sounds of gunshots and screams coming from the restaurant.
"Ow! Bruce, what's happening, let me go-!"
"Let go of him, I need to get him somewhere safe-!"
Bruce couldn't move. He couldn't move. He was eight years old in a different alley, watching his parents groaning and bleeding as pearls rolled in blood, he was going to die he was going to die but it would be okay as long as Jason was safe-
Pain spiked through his head as if from a lightning bolt. Stars and blackness fought for control of his vision, he couldn't breathe-
Jason's screams were coming from too far away. He was on his hands and knees in the filth of the alley, he couldn't understand why there was no blood but his arms were empty, Jason was, they'd taken-
Bruce lumbered around just in time to catch a glimpse of his child being thrown into the back of a van before the door slammed shut. Sirens were wailing, the gunshots were gone but people were still screaming and sobbing, he clawed himself up the wall to his feet and staggered a few steps, but his body kept going sideways when he thought he was going forward. He tried to memorize the rapidly retreating license plate number, but his vision was swimming and he didn't know if it was PXT or PTX, Jason, his head hurt, Jason, why was there no blood when his brains felt like they were spilling out the back of his head, they'd shot Mother and Father, Jason, Jason, Jason...!
o.o.o
Two injured, none dead. The shooting had just been a distraction, a cover for the kidnapping.
People kept trying to make Bruce get into the fucking ambulance but he didn't care if he had a concussion, his son had JUST BEEN KIDNAPPED, WHY DON'T YOU GO TRACE PXT-425 OR PTX-425, OR MAYBE IT WAS 245, JUST TRACE ALL THE FUCKING COMBINATIONS INSTEAD OF FUSSING OVER ME WHEN MY TEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD HAS JUST BEEN KIDNAPPED, HE'S THIRTEEN AND HE'S BEEN PUT IN THE BACK OF A FUCKING VAN AND THEY'RE GOING TO SKIN HIM ALIVE...!
I was going to adopt him. I'm going to adopt him, he's my son, all she needed to do was sign...the fucking papers... She never meant to sign them, did she...
o.o.o
Bruce's head hurt. It fucking hurt. Looking at things hurt, so his eyes were closed; the back of his head had been bandaged but he could still see blood pouring from the wound, even with his eyes closed; blood pouring down his neck, across his hands, spreading across the pavement for loose pearls to get caught in...
They'd found the van. PTX-524. Abandoned. Bruce had given them information about the mer traffickers in case it turned out to be relevant. Maybe the police would find out Jay was a seal, maybe they wouldn't. As long as his little pup came home safe.
Running footsteps; Mother kneeling in front of his chair, exclaiming in horror at the state of him, crooning soothingly as she caressed him and tried to get him to look at her.
When he cracked his eyes open, tears spilled down. "They took him. They're going to kill him."
"Oh, honey, no, no, the police will find him, he'll be okay, they've gotten much better these days-"
"Dad?"
Bruce looked up and saw his older son, wheelchair to hide his tail, sunglasses and blue hoodie to hide the rest of his inhuman features. Even bundled up, the mer still looked worried sick.
"...I lost him, Dickie."
Dick set the brakes and heaved himself into Bruce's lap. Bruce held his son close and squeezed his eyes shut, tears sliding down his face.
TBC
