The paramedics show up and it’s already a shit show.
She doesn’t know how the reporters found out about the nine-one-one call so quickly, but by the time the ambulance arrives, there are already photographers crowding outside her building, waiting to glimpse Bruce Wayne in peril. It’ll be great for the tabloids, should they sell it. Which is how Jessica winds up going through Bruce’s pockets, fishing out whatever cash he had and combining it with his own.
It's a considerable amount. She briefly wonders if he was already planning on paying someone off today. She doesn’t think it was for her—usually she trusts Bruce enough not to demand half up front.
“I will give you both a thousand dollars each right now if you do exactly as I say.”
The paramedics, undervalued and underpaid, don’t have to be told twice.
After they stem the bleeding, they obscure him enough through medical equipment and blankets to cover his expensive clothes, save for his shoes, which Jessica leaves in her bedroom for later. They keep to the story that it was just some Wall Street junkie, looking for a chemical fix, and the reporters almost seem disappointed, but it’s not enough to disperse all of them. She sends two text messages:
One, to Claire Temple, letting her know a VIP is incoming and if she could try to maintain Bruce’s privacy, she would appreciate it and add another favor to her ever-growing tab.
Two, to Alfred, letting him know what’s befallen his boss, and the precautions taken.
With that done, sneaks out the back, hoodie over her head, and tries not to catch the paparazzi’s attention. Moving quickly across the street to the roof where the shot had to have come from, she scrambles up the fire escape to the roof, allowing her to look down over the scene.
What she does fine is slightly anticlimactic. A sniper rifle sits on the edge of the roof, blatantly left, as though to send some kind of message. Raising an eyebrow, she snaps off some pictures of the scene, just as she left it, before sending a text over to Misty Knight.
This guy did some damage to a friend of mine. Think you can tell me who it belongs to?
A few minutes later, the message returns. Drop me a pin. I’ll be there in five.
Jessica does, before leaning back against the edge of the roof nearby. This is already shaping up to be a long day.
* * * * *
By the time Jessica makes it to the hospital, Bruce is out of surgery and sleeping off the anesthesia. Alfred perches in a chair near the bed, flipping through the paper, but he looks up when she enters the room.
“Ms. Jones. Thank you for the notification earlier. Master Wayne so often neglects to inform me when he’s got himself grievously injured. It was a pleasant change of pace.”
Jessica can’t help but smile at that as she goes to take the opposite chair. “How did the surgery go?”
“The doctors say he’ll be fine. Just need some recovery. Though they seemed to be quite concerned and have many questions about what he was doing in Hell’s Kitchen at that time of night?”
“Questions that I share, actually.”
Jessica’s head snaps around, and in the window she sees Dick Grayson, letting himself in from the outside. “What are you, too good for doors now?”
“If we were keeping Bruce’s presence here under the radar, I figured it would be best if I didn’t walk in the front door looking for my father.” He slips easily inside, before turning to close the window behind him. “Jones.”
“Dick.” There’s an edge of fondness to the banter, even though she leans into the word as though it was a character flaw rather than his name. “He wanted me to find out more about a new vigilante in town. He was just giving me the details of the case and we were negotiating payment when a sniper got him from across the street.”
Dick’s face darkens as he makes his way over to Bruce’s bedside, reaching for his hand. “Whoever it was didn’t take good aim.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It takes a lot of skill to shoot someone inside a building from the roof of the opposite.” Alfred adjusts his glasses as he folds the paper in front of him. “Perhaps whoever it was, wasn’t looking to kill Master Bruce so much as trying to prove a point.”
“Are we sure this wasn’t one of your enemies?”
If the question came from anyone else, she might take it as an insult. But Dick, for all her teasing, is just covering his bases. After all, Bruce was there as Bruce, not Batman. The list of people looking to kill Bruce Wayne is much smaller than the one for the latter.
“Can’t say for sure.” Jessica admits reluctantly. “They left the gun behind. I have a cop friend looking into it, but it could go either way.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Jessica.”
Whatever she intends to say Bruce’s voice interrupts, rough from sleep and surgery. The look he’s giving her is asking her not to say too much, but she’s going to push the issue. Dick doesn’t deserve to be blindsided by this.
“If it is him, he’d be coming after Bruce Wayne. You know that.”
“His problem is with Batman.”
“His problem is with his father, and you know it.”
Dick stands, pointing to the both of them. “I’m going to need someone to stop dancing around whatever this is before I go out there and find it out for myself.”
Jessica raises an eyebrow at Bruce, because Dick should hear it from him, not Jessica. Her phone buzzes, and she slides her hand in her pocket to check her texts.
Ballistics from the gun puts it at three different crime scenes attributed to the Red Hood. Luke’s busy, but Danny’s free.
Jessica fights the urge to roll her eyes, but texts back her thanks all the same. There’s nothing wrong with Danny Rand, he’s just a little too puppy dog for her taste. “Ballistics came back. Two guesses who the gun was connected to, and the first one doesn’t count.”
Bruce closes his eyes, leaning back against his pillow. He then turns his attention to his son and struggles through the next words. “I have a theory that the Red Hood might be Jason.”
Dick takes a step backwards, hand held out hesitantly in front of him. “Jason’s dead, Bruce. You buried him. We buried him.”
“I know. But I couldn’t say for sure, so I was asking Jessica to find out for me.”
Dick tears his gaze from Bruce back to Jessica. “Why would he do this? Go after Bruce.”
Jessica shrugs. “Coming back from the dead fucks people up. This could be a cry for help, or this could just be who he is now. We can’t say for sure until we find him.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Jessica turns her eyes back to Bruce. “Absolutely not.”
“Jessica.”
“Don’t Jessica me, you had a through and through in your gut. It’s a miracle you got this far. If you pull a stitch out there, or he tries to shoot you again, you might not be so lucky. More to the point, he’s going to be expecting you. He won’t be expecting me.”
“I’ll go find Jason.”
Jessica rolls her eyes up at the ceiling, before turning to look at Dick. “What did I just say about expectations?”
“I know him. Maybe I can talk him down.” Dick frowns. “And someone has to stay here with Bruce. I know he was hiring you to do this job, but I can handle it.”
“And what if you can’t talk him down? Who’s going to be watching your back when he puts a bullet in you?”
“The same goes for you!”
“Or you could both go together,” Alfred says, studying them both.
“Someone has to stay here and protect Bruce,” Dick points out.
Bruce briefly looks exasperated. “I’m not an invalid or a child.”
Alfred looks amused before “Actually, young Master Tim is on his way here to help watch over things.”
“And I have a friend coming who can help.” She glances over at Bruce with a thin smirk. “He’s great. You can bond over your charmed, rich upbringing and dead parents.”
Bruce looks dubious at this declaration, and she laughs before turning to Dick.
“If I can’t convince you to stay here, can I at least convince you to follow my lead?”
“Maybe.” It’s not a promise, but it might be enough to slow his ego a bit. She’ll take it.
“I’ll meet you outside. Just give me a minute?”
Dick nods, before turning to disappear back out the window again. Alfred makes a comment about going to get a fresh cup of tea before disappearing out the door. Jessica waits until the room is quiet, before she reaches over to take his hand. He squeezes it in return, pulling her closer.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It didn’t even graze me. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for my apartment. Apparently, you bleed a lot.”
He laughs, just enough for him to wince at the pull of the stitches. “I will add the costs to your fee.”
“Appreciate it.” She lets the silence settle for a moment, before looking up at him again. “I’ll find him Bruce. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”
“I know.” He holds her in place, his grip firm. “I need to talk to him, Jess.”
“I’ll do my best.” She won’t make promises she can’t keep, but she will try her hardest.
The door cracks open, and Danny’s slim frame appears in the doorway. He gives Jessica a small salute of acknowledgement, and she nods, before turning back to Bruce. “I’ll call if I find anything.”
And with that, she pulls herself away to head back through the hospital. She has work to do.
we call it smart family business | marvel cinematic universe/dc extended universe | 1,688
The paramedics show up and it’s already a shit show.
She doesn’t know how the reporters found out about the nine-one-one call so quickly, but by the time the ambulance arrives, there are already photographers crowding outside her building, waiting to glimpse Bruce Wayne in peril. It’ll be great for the tabloids, should they sell it. Which is how Jessica winds up going through Bruce’s pockets, fishing out whatever cash he had and combining it with his own.
It's a considerable amount. She briefly wonders if he was already planning on paying someone off today. She doesn’t think it was for her—usually she trusts Bruce enough not to demand half up front.
“I will give you both a thousand dollars each right now if you do exactly as I say.”
The paramedics, undervalued and underpaid, don’t have to be told twice.
After they stem the bleeding, they obscure him enough through medical equipment and blankets to cover his expensive clothes, save for his shoes, which Jessica leaves in her bedroom for later. They keep to the story that it was just some Wall Street junkie, looking for a chemical fix, and the reporters almost seem disappointed, but it’s not enough to disperse all of them. She sends two text messages:
One, to Claire Temple, letting her know a VIP is incoming and if she could try to maintain Bruce’s privacy, she would appreciate it and add another favor to her ever-growing tab.
Two, to Alfred, letting him know what’s befallen his boss, and the precautions taken.
With that done, sneaks out the back, hoodie over her head, and tries not to catch the paparazzi’s attention. Moving quickly across the street to the roof where the shot had to have come from, she scrambles up the fire escape to the roof, allowing her to look down over the scene.
What she does fine is slightly anticlimactic. A sniper rifle sits on the edge of the roof, blatantly left, as though to send some kind of message. Raising an eyebrow, she snaps off some pictures of the scene, just as she left it, before sending a text over to Misty Knight.
This guy did some damage to a friend of mine. Think you can tell me who it belongs to?
A few minutes later, the message returns. Drop me a pin. I’ll be there in five.
Jessica does, before leaning back against the edge of the roof nearby. This is already shaping up to be a long day.
By the time Jessica makes it to the hospital, Bruce is out of surgery and sleeping off the anesthesia. Alfred perches in a chair near the bed, flipping through the paper, but he looks up when she enters the room.
“Ms. Jones. Thank you for the notification earlier. Master Wayne so often neglects to inform me when he’s got himself grievously injured. It was a pleasant change of pace.”
Jessica can’t help but smile at that as she goes to take the opposite chair. “How did the surgery go?”
“The doctors say he’ll be fine. Just need some recovery. Though they seemed to be quite concerned and have many questions about what he was doing in Hell’s Kitchen at that time of night?”
“Questions that I share, actually.”
Jessica’s head snaps around, and in the window she sees Dick Grayson, letting himself in from the outside. “What are you, too good for doors now?”
“If we were keeping Bruce’s presence here under the radar, I figured it would be best if I didn’t walk in the front door looking for my father.” He slips easily inside, before turning to close the window behind him. “Jones.”
“Dick.” There’s an edge of fondness to the banter, even though she leans into the word as though it was a character flaw rather than his name. “He wanted me to find out more about a new vigilante in town. He was just giving me the details of the case and we were negotiating payment when a sniper got him from across the street.”
Dick’s face darkens as he makes his way over to Bruce’s bedside, reaching for his hand. “Whoever it was didn’t take good aim.”
“I wouldn’t say that. It takes a lot of skill to shoot someone inside a building from the roof of the opposite.” Alfred adjusts his glasses as he folds the paper in front of him. “Perhaps whoever it was, wasn’t looking to kill Master Bruce so much as trying to prove a point.”
“Are we sure this wasn’t one of your enemies?”
If the question came from anyone else, she might take it as an insult. But Dick, for all her teasing, is just covering his bases. After all, Bruce was there as Bruce, not Batman. The list of people looking to kill Bruce Wayne is much smaller than the one for the latter.
“Can’t say for sure.” Jessica admits reluctantly. “They left the gun behind. I have a cop friend looking into it, but it could go either way.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Jessica.”
Whatever she intends to say Bruce’s voice interrupts, rough from sleep and surgery. The look he’s giving her is asking her not to say too much, but she’s going to push the issue. Dick doesn’t deserve to be blindsided by this.
“If it is him, he’d be coming after Bruce Wayne. You know that.”
“His problem is with Batman.”
“His problem is with his father, and you know it.”
Dick stands, pointing to the both of them. “I’m going to need someone to stop dancing around whatever this is before I go out there and find it out for myself.”
Jessica raises an eyebrow at Bruce, because Dick should hear it from him, not Jessica. Her phone buzzes, and she slides her hand in her pocket to check her texts.
Ballistics from the gun puts it at three different crime scenes attributed to the Red Hood. Luke’s busy, but Danny’s free.
Jessica fights the urge to roll her eyes, but texts back her thanks all the same. There’s nothing wrong with Danny Rand, he’s just a little too puppy dog for her taste. “Ballistics came back. Two guesses who the gun was connected to, and the first one doesn’t count.”
Bruce closes his eyes, leaning back against his pillow. He then turns his attention to his son and struggles through the next words. “I have a theory that the Red Hood might be Jason.”
Dick takes a step backwards, hand held out hesitantly in front of him. “Jason’s dead, Bruce. You buried him. We buried him.”
“I know. But I couldn’t say for sure, so I was asking Jessica to find out for me.”
Dick tears his gaze from Bruce back to Jessica. “Why would he do this? Go after Bruce.”
Jessica shrugs. “Coming back from the dead fucks people up. This could be a cry for help, or this could just be who he is now. We can’t say for sure until we find him.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Jessica turns her eyes back to Bruce. “Absolutely not.”
“Jessica.”
“Don’t Jessica me, you had a through and through in your gut. It’s a miracle you got this far. If you pull a stitch out there, or he tries to shoot you again, you might not be so lucky. More to the point, he’s going to be expecting you. He won’t be expecting me.”
“I’ll go find Jason.”
Jessica rolls her eyes up at the ceiling, before turning to look at Dick. “What did I just say about expectations?”
“I know him. Maybe I can talk him down.” Dick frowns. “And someone has to stay here with Bruce. I know he was hiring you to do this job, but I can handle it.”
“And what if you can’t talk him down? Who’s going to be watching your back when he puts a bullet in you?”
“The same goes for you!”
“Or you could both go together,” Alfred says, studying them both.
“Someone has to stay here and protect Bruce,” Dick points out.
Bruce briefly looks exasperated. “I’m not an invalid or a child.”
Alfred looks amused before “Actually, young Master Tim is on his way here to help watch over things.”
“And I have a friend coming who can help.” She glances over at Bruce with a thin smirk. “He’s great. You can bond over your charmed, rich upbringing and dead parents.”
Bruce looks dubious at this declaration, and she laughs before turning to Dick.
“If I can’t convince you to stay here, can I at least convince you to follow my lead?”
“Maybe.” It’s not a promise, but it might be enough to slow his ego a bit. She’ll take it.
“I’ll meet you outside. Just give me a minute?”
Dick nods, before turning to disappear back out the window again. Alfred makes a comment about going to get a fresh cup of tea before disappearing out the door. Jessica waits until the room is quiet, before she reaches over to take his hand. He squeezes it in return, pulling her closer.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It didn’t even graze me. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for my apartment. Apparently, you bleed a lot.”
He laughs, just enough for him to wince at the pull of the stitches. “I will add the costs to your fee.”
“Appreciate it.” She lets the silence settle for a moment, before looking up at him again. “I’ll find him Bruce. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”
“I know.” He holds her in place, his grip firm. “I need to talk to him, Jess.”
“I’ll do my best.” She won’t make promises she can’t keep, but she will try her hardest.
The door cracks open, and Danny’s slim frame appears in the doorway. He gives Jessica a small salute of acknowledgement, and she nods, before turning back to Bruce. “I’ll call if I find anything.”
And with that, she pulls herself away to head back through the hospital. She has work to do.