The Effort of Family

Distractions

Jason was glad to hear his brother's news. Barbara had questions, but she hadn't pressed Dick when he told her that he wasn't ready to share what he was working on. She found plenty of information, but he was still left with questions.

When Sally Jackson's baby was placed in the care of the New York Foster System, they were dealing with overcrowding. The best solution was the careful transfer of some of the children. Her child had been placed in the care of Gotham City Social Services Department, an independent foster care system, much like New York City. He was placed in a group home while potential families were under review. Jason (if it was Jason), at only a few days old, went missing. Evidence suggested a kidnapping, but the trail had gone cold. The police never found out what happened to the kid, forever a missing person. Another ghost to haunt the streets of Gotham.

Jason didn't understand. But he would. Sitting at one of his safehouses, Jason got to work. He hacked into Sheila Haywood's medical records, determined to know if he was really her son or not. No definitive answers, but leads.

She'd given birth in a clinic. It was a high-risk birth apparently. The clinic had been closed since Jason was a child, but the man who'd been her doctor still lived in Gotham. His name was Frederick Palinsky. He had his medical license revoked for malpractice and had lived mostly unemployed since then. The night was young. Jason had plenty of time to interrogate the old doctor.

He didn't knock. Jason busted the lock on the window and climbed his way into the apartment. The man who'd been sitting on his couch and drinking a beer was now on the floor. "Wha- what are you doing?" He seemed scared. Good.

"Doctor Palinsky," Jason said, the voice modulator in his hood making him sound almost robotic. "I believe we have an appointment." He hauled the man off the ground and dumped him back on the couch. He pulled out a gun and watched the color drain from the old doctor's face. It was loaded with rubber bullets, but Frederick didn't know that.

Jason regarded the man in front of him. He was in his late fifties and had clearly taken to heavy drinking after leaving the medical field. He was drunk now, but had enough intelligence to be very afraid. The Red Hood had come knocking.

"Twenty years ago you lost your medical license," Jason started. "I need to know about one of your last patients, Sheila Haywood."

"Please, I don't have any- nothing- what do you-" the man bumbled, clearly out of his wits. Jason sighed heavily. He'd done research on the man. Palinsky was a crooked doctor back in the day. He did a lot of favors and under the table operations. The man was organized and obsessive. Or he used to be , Jason thought as he looked around the slobby apartment.

"Wait here," he snapped. The vigilante/antihero waved his handgun in the air for emphasis. The man stayed right where he was.

Jason quickly searched the apartment, falling into an old rhythm he'd learned when he was much younger. It'd been a while since he'd done much work outside of Crime Alley. It was nostalgic, but also summoned a pit of anxiety to his stomach. Part of him expected to turn around and find Batman behind him. It was stupid. He and the old man were good now, but the shadows still drew his eyes. He needed a fucking vacation.

His search yielded promising results when he found an old office. Dust had settled from years of disuse, but it was there all the same. He stalked over to a standing filing cabinet and started to open the drawers. It was organized alphabetically, not chronologically. He found his way to H. Hailey, Hanover, H, H, Haywood. Sheila Haywood. It wasn't a thick file, she'd only been his patient once. At first was a brief detailing of her medical history. Then, a birth certificate. A death certificate? Then a copy of the first birth certificate? No. Palinsky's personal notes made this much clearer. Painfully, disgustingly clear. He kept the file, slamming the drawer closed.

Jason didn't really remember leaving the apartment. He didn't remember how he got back to his safehouse either. Distraction. His fingers fumbled with the cigarette in his hands. He remembered grabbing that though. He remembered cursing himself at the way his hands shook. Lighting it was almost muscle memory. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Jason felt better. His mind felt clearer. The fog that rolled through the streets of Gotham no longer lingered in his head. The smoke in front of his face was mesmerizing, distracting. It wasn't enough. The nicotine wasn't doing anything. Smoking hadn't done much since the Pit, but it was familiar, almost comforting. He wanted to call Dick. Distraction. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Jason didn't want to be alone. Distraction. Jason needed space.

He threw the cigarette out of the window. It wasn't helping him.

Jason went to bed, leaving the file on the counter next to his helmet. This was a problem for future Jason, tomorrow Jason.

Sally was happy. It was a bittersweet thing, the joy of watching Percy grow up into a wonderful child. She wanted nothing more than to protect him from anything that could hurt him. Spring break was coming up. She wouldn't take him to the beach. No, she didn't want to scare him. They used to go all the time before she married Gabe. Now they only went once a summer. A few days at their favorite cabin until Percy had to go. He spent his summers with his father. Sally knew that Percy didn't like leaving for that long. He came home every time and clung to her like a little kid again. They spent hours cuddled on the couch doing nothing every time he came home.

Sally couldn't help but feel guilty. Percy needed to know his culture and his father. Poseidon wouldn't let Sally keep him from visiting even if she tried. The problem was that Percy didn't fit in there. He never talked about his dad, or his half siblings, or his father's wife. He occasionally mentioned a friend named Tyson. It didn't ease Sally's mind. It was her fault. She couldn't shake the idea that his undersea family gave him a hard time.

Percy never said as much, though. He never gave much indication that anything was wrong at all. Issues with Atlantis or school were never brought up. He lied to her when she asked. He was almost a good liar, but she could see the guilt in his eyes.

He'd gotten that same look in his eyes today. Sally asked him how school was. "Great!" He'd told her. Lies, his eyes whispered. He didn't elaborate. She didn't push. He would tell her when he was ready, he always did. Her job wasn't to pressure him right now, it was to make him feel better. She could distract him from whatever he'd forgotten to tell her.

So she smiled. Percy was mixing blue dye into the cookie batter. He always forgot to add a little red so they didn't turn out green. Sally reminded him. He added a few drops of red. Blue stained his fingers. His tongue too. Percy thought she didn't know he was eating the batter. She always saw.

Bittersweet. Like the chocolate chips he was adding too much of. She helped him spoon the batter onto baking sheets. They put the cookies in the oven. She watched his smile fade slowly. The distraction hadn't lasted. His mind would distract itself soon. Percy's ADHD never left him to linger on the mundane and uninteresting. She led him into the living room. She let Percy choose a movie.

He'd liked The Little Mermaid when he was younger. Finding Nemo had been a favorite too. He didn't watch those anymore. Ocean movies were ghosts in the Jackson household. The beach wasn't the fond, happy place it used to be. The sea was cold.

She shook herself from her thoughts. Percy had picked an old detective movie he'd never been old enough to watch. She smiled. There was no harm in it. It might be good for him.

It had been distracting enough. She'd pulled the cookies from the oven while he stayed on the couch. They ate many of them together. She sent Percy off to bed. Sally stayed up to write. It was nice. Not as nice as it could have been. But nice.

She sent Percy off to school the next morning. It was sweet. Bitter, but sweet. Her day was normal. Monotonous. Cold. Almost empty without him. Sally felt like a ghost in her own home. She needed a distraction too. The apartment was too quiet. Sometimes her empty apartment felt like a tomb. The sharp, shrill ring of her phone broke that silence.

She picked up the phone.

"Hello?"