Work Text:
Lady Shiva, Sharmin Rosen, or Sheila Haywood.
He tapped the pen against his lips, eyebrows knitted together, and nose slightly scrunched. He still had a parent, each woman on his list was still breathing, still living, still there. He had a mom. Jason Todd-Wayne was not an orphan, he had a parent out in the world. A parent who could want him, who could believe in him, who would believe him.
Compared to the streets he fared from, Wayne Manor was a warm paradise, but in the past months following Felipe Garzonas fall, it had grown into a cold prison. He could feel Bruce’s eyes on him wherever he went. The suspicion, disapproval, and disgust which coloured his gaze followed Jason around, dragging him further and further into a sense of false guilt. He had spent most of his life being treated like a criminal. But now? In the one place he thought it would never happen, by the one person he thought would never even look at him like that.
That fucking hurt.
Jason never pushed Garzonas, but he wasn’t exactly displeased that the man fell, and maybe that was the problem for Bruce. Not Jason’s suspected guilt, but instead how he revelled in the man’s death. Jason knew of Dick’s Robin career, he knew the older boy was only ever made Robin to prevent him from being made a murderer, but he and Jason were different. Jason was happy to be Robin, he liked to help others, that was his whole reason for the job! He would never kill another person, he would never even consider it. Being treated like a serial killer itching to snap, in his own home, by the man who claimed to be his father, was not a welcome feeling.
Discovering his possible parentage, on the other hand, was. He had a mother out there, one who would never treat him in such a way.
Jason smiled to himself, eyes brimming with hope, and walked up to the Bat-computer. Bruce had banned him from the Cave, but Bruce was busy with some Justice League issue, Dick was off on a trip with the Titans, and Alfred was out on a grocery run.
One DNA test later, he crossed two names off his list.
Lady Shiva, Sharmin Rosen
, or Sheila Haywood.
JASON TODD-WAYNE DNA ANALYSIS:
37% Puetor Rican ancestry
22% German ancestry
20% Navajo ancestry
18% English ancestry
3% Kazakh ancestry
0% Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry
0% Chinese ancestry
0% Japanese ancestry.
Sheila Haywood was his mother. Sheila Haywood was a doctor working in Ethiopia, Sheila Haywood’s career was lined and primed by volunteer and other charitable works. Dr. Sheila Haywood was an intelligent, accomplished woman. Sheila Haywood was his mother.
He had her eyes, her lips, her nose, and hopefully, he’d capture her heart too. She may have given him up all those years ago, but perhaps she had changed her mind in the past 15 years. Maybe she would want him, regardless of his flaws. Maybe she would embrace him in all the ways Bruce refused to. Maybe she would love him.
That was a risk he was willing to take.
One one-way ticket to Addis Ababa in cart, his credit card in hand, and the first draft of his note written, Jason stopped.
Did he really want to do this? Run away from home? From Dick? From Alfred? From Bruce?
Pictures of Bruce's suspect stares, Dick’s discomfort, and Alfred’s sympathetic gaze flooded his mind. He felt pain as his undue guilt festered deep in his stomach, igniting the dormant fire laid in his chest. The burning, seething rage took hold of his hands, and typed the numbers into the correct boxes. He would find his mother. He would escape a life undeserved once again.
… 🚬 …
His suitcase clacked along the sidewalk, bumping about as he ambled towards the nearest bus stop. His passport sat hidden in the inner pocket of his jacket, safe from those looking and lurking, you could never be too safe, Bristol was still technically Gotham, after all.
His mouth was thick and his throat felt blocked. His voice wavered and warbled as he greeted the bus driver. Tears threatened to prick at his eyes, but with a deep breath he forced them away. No time for crying, and no time for regrets. Batman could do without Robin for the time being, maybe after he realized Jason's innocence and apologized for hurting him. He wasn’t planning on staying with Sheila forever, he hardly knew her! But having some kind of relationship with her would be nice, and a parent.
He could really use one right now.
The bus ride was short, considering Bristol’s proximity to Archie Goodwin International Airport, but his mind still wandered on the ride over. His thoughts were mostly strung from the common theme of “Should I?” and were closely followed by the justification for his departure, closely followed by the reassurances that he would return. No matter what, he would return home ready to face Bruce and find a way, any way, to prove his innocence.
But for now, that would just have to wait.
He joined a small crowd that shuffled off the bus once it came to a stop, and headed into the airport, following all the little signs that adorned its expansive halls. He heard many people, some crying, some sleeping. Some were stressed and others were brimming with excitement. Jason didn’t know how he felt, but he knew that regardless of the emotions swimming in his gut, this was something he had to do. No doubt about it.
…🔍…
Tim was, for lack of a better term, bored out of his mind. Ever since he had cracked the Batcomputer his nightly adventures had seemed mundane, boring even. The computer itself wasn’t even that interesting! Just a couple extra cases to solve and some information on Justice League members, most of which Tim already knew! (Although the knowledge that Aquaman refused to step anywhere near Gotham Harbor was quite interesting). His next option would be breaking into the WatchTower, and that seemed a tad bit too far, even for him.
But summer’s were slow, especially whenever he was away from Brentwood and with his very-real-definitely-not-made-up-please-don’t-look-into-it-Mom nanny seemed to waste away before his very eyes. Don’t get him wrong, Tim hates school, but Batman and Robin only graced Gotham’s night sky at night, and the trip to New York for Titan’s stalking watching activities was a long and difficult to explain. So throughout the day, when Tim wasn’t sleeping or eating, he didn’t exactly have much else to do.
But now? He was wide awake. He’d recently bought a pack of this sort of energy drink cola mix, Zesti, they called it, and Tim was hooked. Sure, the boy loved a good cat nap, but coffee was beyond gross for his young taste buds, and far less convenient. And due to this convenience, Tim Drake was as alert as alert could possibly get. But an awake Tim was a bored and apathetic Tim. A very, very bored Tim.
Which is why he can not be blamed for what was about to occur, after all, when a young, impressionable, genius brain like his own was left unstimulated, bad, or perhaps, in this case, questionable, things were bound to transpire.
…🔍…
In a last ditch effort to engage his meandering brain, he opened his laptop and broke into the Batcomputer’s desktop once more, in hopes of finding a new case, preferably a cold case, and try to solve it.
Instead, he finds a DNA test, a plane ticket, a bus route. And the name Sheila Haywood plastered all over his screen. Tim was a detective to his core, and seeing a case unravelling right before him, he had no choice but to pursue it.
Through some less than legal means, he had managed to dig up Sheila Haywood’s work history and conflicting tax records. Not to mention the clear embezzlement at her current worksite in Ethiopia. Tim looked over at the plane ticket, “Gotham City to Addis Ababa”
Oh no. No, no, no, no. That would not happen, not while Tim was still kicking. There was only one plane ticket, only one person with access to the Batcomputer, and only one person with any relation to Sheila Haywood: Jason Todd-Wayne, her biological son. Jason Todd-Wayne, who was only three years older than Tim. Jason Todd-Wayne, who hadn’t appeared as Robin for the past month. Jason Todd-Wayne, who always smiled at Tim whenever the two made eye contact at the gala’s they were both made to attend.
Tim had witnessed Batman’s growing… weirdness… following Dick leaving his role as Robin, and could see it slowly creeping back into his actions since Robin’s absence. Sure, Batgirl was still around, but she wasn’t a partner in the way Robin was, and Tim had never been a fan of change. It's true, he had been upset after Dick quit, and even more perturbed when Bruce had replaced his Robin, but over the years Jason had grown on him. No one could ever replace Dick’s Robin, but Jason could hold his own. And, in all honesty, Tim much preferred the cargo shorts compared to the scaly panties, it was just more practical.
The writing was on the wall, and in two short hours, Jason would be on a plane, on the other side of the world, and faced with a mother who, if you will allow, wasn’t worth shit. Jason Todd-Wayne would be left in a country, whose language he barely spoke, with a woman who, in all likelihood, would not offer him much help, all alone. Luckily for Jason, Tim had a virtual eraser and a very lax moral compass when it came to crimes not involving the downright deplorable. How hard was it to cancel one ticket and fake the rest being ought up?
Harder than it looked, Tim had whispered a prayer to whatever gods he didn’t believe in, and chose to cancel every flight coming in and out of the airport instead. He severed the connection between any Africa-bound plane in the hangar and the Air Traffic Control too, hoping he was not disrupting the lives of the other passengers too much.
With Sheila’s “job” history printed out and placed neatly into a manilla folder, Tim ordered a cab, fished out his father’s old messenger bag, and attempted to muster up whatever confidence he had before crawling into the backseat.
“Where ya headed?” The cabbie asked, tossing her cigarette butt out the window.
Tim smiled at the woman, and tried to look as innocent as he possibly could, “Archie Goodwin International Airport.”
The cabbie snorted and shook her head, messy brown hair flying everywhere, “Yer not trying ta run away, are ya?” she asked, seeming somewhat concerned, “Cause I don’t want yer rich ass folks runnin’ an’ blamin’ me fer it…”
Ah. Concern for herself was still concern, Tim surmised.
“Heavens no!” He gasped in that overly posh tone, “I’m off to pick up a friend of mine, an exchange student from-”
“I don’t need yer life’s story kid.” She cut him off and chided, “Archie Goodwin International Airport, was it? I’ll getcha there.”
“Wonderful.”
… 🚬 …
Jason peered up at the screen one more time, praying that it had all been a hallucination, but no. The damn thing still read the same.
“Gotham City to Addis Ababa: Cancelled”
Fuck.
He sat in his seat, head in his hands, as his fellow passengers began to filter out of their gate and back into the general area, to purchase new tickets or scream at the unwitting Airport staff. But Jason didn’t have anymore anger to shout, scream, or even cry. All he had was a tired body and exhausted mind.
He felt the tears brewing behind his eyes, the pit reforming in his stomach, and the knot blocking his throat.
Nothing he did mattered.
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t pushed Garzonas.
It didn’t matter that Bruce, his Dad , didn’t believe him.
And it didn’t matter that even the universe didn’t want to offer him an out.
He did not matter.
That hurt. Everything always hurt, but now he once again had no one to treat his wounds, not even a private space to go and lick them.
He had nothing and he was nothing.
“Gotham City to Addis Ababa: Cancelled”
“Bullshit.” He mumbled into his knees, knowing there was nothing else to be done.
“Bullshit.” He whispered, and wiped his weeping eyes.
“Bullshit.” He spoke, and gathered his things.
“Bullshit.” He bellowed, following the other passengers back to the front and walked up to the desk.
“Bullshit!” He yelped and-
Felt someone tugging at his shirt.
“Um… Hey, Jason, right?” A pair of weary, ice blue eyes pinned him down, and stopped all his weeping.
Jason cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and spoke, “Y-yeah?” He tried, wracking through his worn-out brain for whatever this kid’s name was. “Everything alright?”
The kid shook his head, floppy, black bangs shaking with it, “No… I- um… I think I got the date wrong?” He peered up at Jason's confused face and went on, “Oh! Um- My- uh, my parents are supposed to be coming back today, but they aren’t here? So- so I was wondering if you knew what the date was?” He fiddled with the strap on the bag which was hanging across his body, and grumbled, “Maybe there’s something wrong with my phone…”
Jason looked down at the kid, the neighbour! Yeah! Tim Drake! And placed a hand on his shoulder, ‘Where were they comin’ from?”
“Vancouver, they were at a work conference.” Tim answered, “Their- their plane should be here! Right?”
The older boy sighed and tried to comfort the panicking kid, “Do yer parents fly private?” Tim nodded, “Flights in and out of here are all cancelled, your parents probably had to land somewhere else.”
“Oh.” Tim said, the relief visibly washing over him, “Oh, that's- yeah.” He sighed, “Okay.”
Jason felt tempted to hug the kid, but decided against it, “Did ya not check yer phone? They probably texted you.”
The kid chuckled lightly, "It died, I kept trying to figure out if it was broken on the ride here.”
“Yeah…” Jason tried, running a hand through his curls, “What- uh- what do ya say we get outta here? Back home, I mean.”
Tim smiled at him, but looked confused, ‘What about you? Are you not here for a reason?” He stared down at his shoes and mumbled, “I don’t want to get in your way.”
“Nah… I can come back another time.” He replied, pushing the kid along with him as the two walked out the front doors.
… 🚬 …
“Oh come on! I told ya! I’m Jason Todd-Wayne, got my student ID and everything!” He waved the card before the cabbie, but she simply stuck up her nose.
“Like hell ya are! I don’t believe ya!” She dismissed him, shooing him away with a lit cigarette in her hand.
“What?!” Jason shouted, “Ya believe him, don’tcha!?” He asked, gesturing to Tim, who was stuffing their bags into the taxi’s trunk. Little Timmy had insisted he do so, as a prepayment for Jason’s help, and Jason didn’t have it in him to argue.
“Just look at ‘im!” She screamed back, tossing back a dark brown ponytail, “The way he looks! the way he speaks! The kid’s clearly dripping in dough.” She remarked, tossing her cigarette butt to the ground, and stomping it out. “I don’t have time for this…” She grumbled and turned away.
“What- Hey!” Jason tried, to no avail.
Tim appeared at his side, without either of them noticing, “I can pay you.” Tim suggested, pulling out a comically full wallet, “That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?” He asked with the same knowing innocence of any rich kid.
“Fine… get in.” She agreed, eyes brimming with a peculiar shade of greed.
Jason eyed the kid beside him, recognizing that they hailed from separate worlds, despite their current proximity, and buckled his seat belt.
His meet up with Mom Sheila could wait, maybe he could run it by Dickie first, let the rebel have a crack at it.
The car’s engine revved, and they began the journey away from the airport and back into Bristol.
… 🚬 …
Within the hour, Jason stood before the very home he had just ran from, the same bags in his hands, and the same needless guilt sat in his chest.
“Thanks for the ride Tim, I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
Tim smiled up at him once more and shook his head, “Don’t worry about it,” He assured, “It was nothing after all.” He replied, words dripping with that affluent tone one could only here at Gotham’s stuffiest of galas.
“Yeah, right.” He answered as the car sped away, down the block.
Jason sighed and pushed open the door.
He made it five steps into the manor before he was tackled to the ground and embraced in a hug.
“Jaylad.” Bruce spoke as he ran his fingers through Jason’s hair, “Jay, I’m so sorry.”
The boy gasped a choked breath, his previous tears threatening to return, “Oh yeah? Are ya?”
“Yes, son.” Bruce released Jason from his grasp and held him so that they were facing each other, “I’m so sorry.”
‘You believe me?” Jason asked, hope evident through every fibre of his being.
Bruce grew quiet for a moment, a decision being thought over one final time as he stared into his son’s eyes and held his trembling figure, “Yes. Jason.” He finally said, huffing slightly when Jason buried his face back into his Dad’s chest, “I believe you.”
The two cried, apologizing intermittently, and refused to let the other go, despite Alfred’s wishes. It had taken them over two hours to separate, and the two gathered up Jason’s packed up belongings, and headed up stairs.
“I’d like to be alone for a bit, Dad.” He said, “If that’s okay.” He added.
“Of course, Jay. Alfred and I will be in the kitchen if you need us.” Bruce replied, placing the bags he held onto Jason’s bed, and kissing the boy’s forehead on his way out. “I love you, Jason.”
“I love you too, Dad.” He answered, and opened his carryon, only to discover a folder within it that had not been there before. He stared at the big, thick, black cursive which label the folder’s front,
“Sheila Haywood: Criminal History”
…🔍…
“Yer a weird kid, ya know that?” Asked the cabbie, Alexis, as her and Tim drove back down to Drake Manor. “What the hell was that even about?”
Tim sighed and met her eyes through the rear-view mirror, “Do you want the money or not, Lexie?” He asked, in that apathetic yet demanding tone his mother had drilled into him from the moment he could speak.
They continued their ride in silence, and Tim handed her five crisp hundred dollar bills upon arrival.
“Do you want this?” He asked, holding up the bag, being sure to flaunt the luxury logos which adorned its front, “It's not really my taste…”
Alexis sighed, cursing herself, and took the bag from his grasp, and drove away.
Tim rolled his eyes, took out his keys, and walked into the front door.
“Hello, Tim.” A feminine voice rang out, “I’ve got some questions for you, would you be willing to answer them?” Batgirl, AKA Barbara Gordon asked, in a tone which suggested that its was more of a demand, and Tim, terrified, starstruck Tim, gave his most intelligent reply:
“Um. No?”