Vanessa opened the door that night and stared at him without so much as a hint of emotion. The only thing he could see in her eyes was fatigue.
"Is something wrong?" Jackson asked as he stepped inside.
Two weeks had passed since he'd last seen her. Jackson wasn't expecting her to throw rose petals at his feet, but he had hoped for a warmer welcome than this.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"It's nice to see you too, Sweetheart."
"Why are you here? Did you screw up another job or something?"
Vanessa turned her back to him and strode down the hallway into the kitchen. He'd never seen her act so antagonistic before and he chased after her, grabbing hold of her wrist and forcing her to turn toward him.
"What's your problem, Vanessa? I didn't come here to be your whipping boy."
"Then why do you keep coming here, Jackson?"
"Well, I can think of two reasons," he responded, referring to her and her daughter, who had just turned one year old the day before.
"Two reasons; what might they be? Lingering guilt over kidnapping me and pity for a rape victim?'
Jackson was taken aback by what she said and let go of her wrist. Already, the tough girl routine was fading and he watched as her eyes glazed over.
"Pity for a rape victim; this isn't like you Vanessa, what's going on?"
Vanessa sat at the kitchen table and Jackson pulled up a chair along side her. He watched her expectantly, waiting for her answer.
"I'm sorry, Jackson," she said and her voice caught in her throat. "I just…I haven't been sleeping well this week."
"Why, what's happened?"
"I started getting these phone calls; five times a night, every night, for the past six days now. Creepy, is the only word I can think of to describe them. It's just silence and then this laugh; it's the most horrifying laugh I've ever heard, and then he hangs up."
Vanessa leaned forward in her chair, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth. "I just want it to stop. Why can't they leave me alone?"
"Where has Bruce been during all of this?" Jackson asked with anger flaring up in his voice.
"We split up two weeks ago."
"Was that your decision, or his?"
"His…I don't know, mutual, I guess. Things were getting too complicated and he thought being involved with him would put me in danger," she looked up at Jackson and laughed sardonically, "and he thinks I'm hung up on you."
"Are you?" Jackson asked.
He was still waiting for her response when the phone rang. "A conversation for another time," he thought as he motioned for Vanessa to remain seated while he answered the phone.
"Who is this?" he asked into the dead silence that waited. Shortly thereafter, the maniacal laughter Vanessa had mentioned began.
"Listen to me, freak, call her again and you'll be wearing your tongue for a necktie. That's a promise."
The laughter stopped abruptly as the phone went dead and Jackson looked back toward Vanessa. She was watching him and he could see she was trembling.
"Get some sleep, Sweetheart; I'll take care of this," he said, shaking his head in disgust.
Picking up on the source of his anger, Vanessa said, "Bruce doesn't know about the calls, Jackson."
"Sleeps all day, dresses up like a bat to fight crime at night, meanwhile, you're here alone getting obscene phone calls," he muttered.
"That's not how it is. You're blowing it out of proportion."
"Stop defending him, Vanessa. He always put you second. I just wish you had told me about this sooner."
"What are you going to do?"
"Make some calls of my own. This shit is going to stop tonight. Now, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
Though Jackson had never found the culprit, the calls had stopped after that night, just as he had promised. When he woke from his usual spot on the couch that morning, he looked at his watch and saw that it was 6:00 a.m. Vanessa was already awake and the smell of coffee permeated the apartment.
"We were interrupted before you had a chance to give me an answer last night," he said as he came up behind her.
"What was the question?"
"Is Bruce right, are you hung up on me, Sweetheart?"
Her hand lay flat against the kitchen table and he covered it with his own. He felt her stiffen but knew she was not afraid. There would be no phone calls this morning, no interruptions. He stood there with her and waited for the answer…
"Did you think you'd get away with this, Marcus? Who did you talk to?" Jackson heard his associate ask as he stepped into the warehouse.
"Sorry, I'm late," he said, standing in the shadows, making sure his face was obscured until the last possible second. Even after all this time, his face still had a profound effect on people who traveled in the less up-to-date circles of Gotham's underworld. There were some who insisted that Jonathan Crane was still alive and like Elvis and Big Foot, there were plenty of unsubstantiated sightings to go around.
"Not a problem, boss. Marcus and I were just getting down to the nitty-gritty."
Jackson liked his new partner Rick, a twenty-five year old rookie with a lot of potential. He never questioned an order, never gave Jackson a hard time and always seemed to be in a chipper mood. They were going to get along just fine and he had been doing quite well on his own while he waited for Jackson to arrive. The offending party in the matter, Marcus, was duct taped to a chair, sweat poured down his face in rivulets as he moaned in pain. Jackson saw blood pooling around the man's feet and knew that Rick had already drilled his ankles. Apparently, Marcus had been less than forthcoming with his answers. Jackson felt a little sorry for him, but you reap what you sow. Stealing from the Falcone's was like playing with fire…you always got burned.
It turned out that Marcus was skimming from each and every shipment that had come in over the past nine months; little things here and there, hoping that if he kept the amount small, no one would notice. But like all thieves, he'd gotten greedy and he took more and more, presenting these stolen goods as gifts to his family and the numerous girlfriends he kept hidden from his wife. One of them was a fifteen year old girl, living on her own in the Narrows. She sold the lavish gifts he showered upon her, needing food far more than fur coats. The poor thing was the same age as Ava, just a baby; she shouldn't have to suffer the attentions of this pedophile in order to put food on the table.
It was the girl's side business that had led to Marcus's downfall. When Falcone's men saw her selling small portions of their stolen goods on the street, they sent Jackson down to talk to her. The girl had ratted Marcus out in less than half a second. Jackson didn't even need to threaten or intimidate her and he was thankful for that. She had offered him sex if he promised to let her keep the merchandise and leave her be, but he had refused. Instead, he took the items and brought her to Jessica's House, where Vanessa had been more than happy to take her in. Despite her having split with Bruce Wayne years ago, the house had stayed open. The self righteous billionaire had done one thing right.
"I didn't talk to anybody. I didn't take that much to begin with, I promise, I'll get it all back," Marcus wailed.
Once he knew he'd been found out, Marcus had gone looking for protection; even promising to name names if he could enter the Witness Protection Program. Rick had found him before he'd had a chance to sit down for a face-to-face with any of the detectives. This was not an interrogation, this was retribution and Jackson was only here to supervise his new trainee, like he had said before, the young man was going to do just fine.
Rick looked over at Jackson, awaiting instruction.
"Do the knees," Jackson ordered, stepping into the light, "But cover his mouth first. You can hear the screams from a block away."
"Crane, is that you?" Marcus asked, almost seeming relieved. "Crane, I can't believe you're here. Don't you remember me, I helped you out. You owe me."
"How's that?" Jackson asked.
"That nurse, the one who was going to rat you out. I got rid of her for you, just like you wanted. You were there, Crane. Please tell me you remember."
My, my, my…it's small world…
"No, I don't remember, Marcus, because I'm not Crane. He's dead and I know, because I saw his body lying cold on the floor, just before I set it on fire," Jackson said, while he stuffed a gag into the poor bastard's mouth. He looked over at Rick and snapped his fingers. "Do it."
"With pleasure," Rick said.
Marcus began to thrash about and Jackson had to hold the chair down to thwart the man's attempts to stand. When the drill pierced his kneecap, he threw his head back and screamed into his gag.
A clattering sound from the alley caught Jackson's attention and when he turned around, his jaw dropped. He saw Ava, who had most likely tripped on a hub cap or some other piece of debris that littered these back streets, backing away from the window, still in a semi-crouching position. For a moment, Marcus's sobs were the only sound that could be heard, and then Rick raised his gun to her.
"No!" Jackson yelled and pulled the man's arm down before he could fire a shot. "I'll go after her."
"The Falcone's said no witnesses."
"She's not a witness; she's my niece. She's just a little out of sorts; that's all. Finish up here…I'll take care of her."
He ran out the door and turned the corner, expecting her to be further down the street than she was. She wasn't even running and he caught up to her easily. If she had screamed at him, called him a killer, he would have expected it. If she had slapped him or spit in his face, he wouldn't have been shocked, but she just turned to him slowly when he grabbed her by the shoulder.
There were tears in her forlorn eyes as she looked at him and said softly, "You killed my dad."
"No, I didn't."
"Oh, I get it; you had one of your lackeys do it. I guess you didn't hurt the guy in the warehouse either?" she said, her despondent mood melted away and she looked into his eyes, utterly appalled by what she saw.
"Listen to me, Angel. That man in there is no saint. He's getting what he deserves, your father…"
"My father what, got what he deserved?"
Jackson held his tongue, unsure of what to say next. He recalled something his father used to say to him when he was just a boy, "Son, when you're in a whole, stop digging."
"You're a murderer!" Ava screamed when he didn't answer, and he found himself covering her mouth and pulling her off the sidewalk.
"Let go of me," she demanded. "You lied to me, you lied to mom."
"I never wanted to lie to you. It wasn't my idea. We only had your best interests at heart."
"What do you mean, we? Does mom know about this?"
"Angel, your mother loves you; she was just trying to protect you."
"Oh my god," Ava said, covering her ears with her hands.
"Angel…" he began to say as he touched her arm.
"Don't touch me, just stay away. You're a monster. I can't believe you lied to me. My own mother…" the words caught in her throat. She turned from Jackson and ran down the street, heading in the direction of her home.
Jackson stood on the corner watching her; effectively walking in circles as he debated whether or not to go back to the warehouse and finish the job, or chase after Ava.
Five minutes passed before he began his pursuit. Ava needed a chance to cool down, that was true, but Vanessa needed warning that after all these years, the shit had finally hit the fan.
Author's Note: The truth is coming out, it always does. In the next chapter, things are really going to blow up….literally.
How did you all like super protective, take charge Jackson? If it weren't for torture people with power drills and kill them for money Jackson, he'd be the perfect man. Swoon.
I also think it's obvious that Bruce and Jackson don't really care much for each other! We'll get into that a little bit more in the coming chapters as well.
Thank you all for taking the time to read and/or review my story. I appreciate all of your support and kind words.
Thanks again to emptyvoices; the best sounding board ever!