11

Not sure whether to feel disgusted or intrigued, Jasmine agreed to join in the effort.

As Bruce had predicted, Rachel was thrilled to have someone to talk to and confide her emotional strain over Batman in. Jasmine had never had another woman to 'girl talk' her personal issues with. In spite of the fact their suddenly daily phone calls were a welcome event, she felt that it wasn't quite the vent she needed.

This pattern went on for a couple of weeks, the triune force each battling the underworld in their own way. That's when the balance in Jasmine's world tip yet another time.

She was on her way to the gym when Zoe called.

The annoying tone drifted over the line in an almost panicked state. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry?" Jasmine stopped confused. Zoe never called, but now she made no sense. "Sis, I don't understand what you're asking me."

"Daddy came back last week, and started packing for another business trip. He said he had to stop in Gotham, and could Mom get a hotel reservation. I'm all like, you don't have to because Jasmine is living there now. They're all like, what no one told us." A popping sound came over, and Jasmine guessed her sister was chewing a large wad of gum. "Anyway, I told them you had moved there and sent everyone a new-address-so-you-can-reach-me card. Dad wanted to know what you were doing there, and I said working I guess, and gave him your info. Anyway, thought you'd like a halla. Gotta go." With that, the line was shut off.

Great, she thought. My former special ops father is going to stay with me while I try to dig up dirt on his best friend. Why didn't he just call Zeke? Something wasn't right.

Forgetting her workout, she called Bruce and Jack, letting them know what had occurred. Bruce apparently zipped to a computer and started pulling up her father's flight so she could meet him. Jack assured her solemnly that he would put his bombs away from her neighborhood while family was visiting.

Running home, she began cleaning and put a meal in the crock-pot. Alfred arrived twenty minutes after that with wine, bread, and a special coffee blend. She could have kissed him.

He noticed the painting turned to the wall. Pulling it out, he raised an eyebrow. "Guess you always knew about Jack somehow."

"It wasn't what I meant to paint." She sighed, stacking catalogs in the trash can.

"No, art rarely is what we expect in one way or other." He hung the painting back in its place. "That is why people need it."

After the apartment looked less like a cop used it for sleeping and showering and more like a home, Alfred left and Jasmine drove to the airport.

She scanned the people constantly, and nearly pounced on a stranger who simply was the same height as her dad. Bruce called a few times to give arrival updates, and ask if he could send anything else over.

Finally she spotted her dad. He was approaching a payphone, dragging his luggage behind him. HE was craggier than she remembered, though it had been a few years. Her stay in the hospital to be precise. Running up she called out. He turned, scanning until the moving woman caught his eye. With a bright smile, he walked over and gave her a hug. "Zoe spilled the beans, I see. I was just about to call you."

Jasmine smiled and stuck a hand in her pocket, not sure what to say. "Yeah, well, you got any other bags?"

"No, these two and this carry on are it." He lifted them a little. She took one and carried it to her car.

He eyed the contents of her cup holders, and raised an eyebrow. "I take it you haven't upgraded to Rembrandt Status."

"Ah, no, I'd have to be an artist to get that membership level." She quipped, hoping to keep the tension she felt from showing.

He returned he snicker with a blank stare. "What?"

Her forced smile faded. "I'm a detective, Daddy; I quit art school a long time ago." She shot him a quick glance and bit her lip. "I thought Mom had told you."

"When, exactly, did this change happen?" His rough voice dropped dangerously. Rats, she felt like she was five and caught sneaking M&M's again.

"Second year of college. Zoe and I…fell out. I needed a job and money so," She dug her badge out of her pocket and handed it to him, "ta da."

He ran a large thumb over the gold colored metal, his face turning vague. "Time gets away from all of us, I guess." He cleared his throat. "Any guys or grandkids I need to know about before we get there, princess?"

She relaxed a little, but knew the whole truth was out of the question. "Nope."

They rode in peace to her apartment, and unloaded. Supper was eaten with false bravado, and she was relieved when her dad decided to watch the news.

The biggest section locally was about the Joker; apparently he had released another video. She watched with interest as he doled out the clues to the next victim and attack. Her phone started buzzing, and she answered to hear Gordon's voice on the other end.

"Richards, we need you down here. We have an…issue."

"Um, yeah, I'm watching the news right now."

"Batman's taking care of that," he snapped impatiently, "This has to do with a major player in the Mob. We need you to lure him out."

"If it's undercover you want, everyone in Gotham knows I'm a cop." Her dad gave her strange look, and she shrugged mouthing 'my boss'.

"No, it's his son we're going to use against him. He has a definitive type, and he's out clubbing tonight. I know you have family visiting, and I'm sorry, but…"

She sighed and muttered, "Yeah, I'll be right there." Hanging up, she gave her father a pleading look. "I just got called in; I may not be back for a while."

He waved a big and smiled sadly. "Go, go. Not your fault. I'll be fine with the television."

"There's a WWII marathon on channel fifteen," she offered, but he shook his head and tuned into a soap opera rerun. She paused in putting on her coat, and he shrugged. "A deal I made with your mom."

"Okay… Catch you later," she said hurrying to get the night behind her.

"NO! No way! Never!"

Gordon sighed, "You can't walk in there in Patton boots or cargo pants, Richards."

"Where would I put a gun in that thing?" She asked, glaring at the outfit they had selected. Pink long sleeved top, cut to fit closely, black skinny jeans and pink wedges. She would wear a bug in her necklace, a chunky fashion piece; her hair would be in a pony tail down her left side. It was, really, made for the target's taste.

"You won't be carrying one; we can't risk them finding one on you. Your little collection would sign your extinction slip."

"So not even my knife?" Jasmine asked despairingly.

"Not even toenail clippers."

With a growl of displeasure, she grabbed the pile of clothes and marched to the bathroom to change. After coming out, they tested the bug, ran over her cover story, pointed out the others who would be watching her back in the club, and the signals to use.

She got in the rental car, a hot pink convertible, and drove to the designated area. She walked in, taking on the attitude of a cocky girl who believed the world belonged to her alone. Ordering a tall, orange colored concoction, she swayed to the rhythm of the island band playing their hearts out.

Before long, she spotted the mob boss' son, and decided it was a good time for her wedge to give out. Letting her ankle slip to the side, Jasmine shrieked, and grabbed at him to stay upright. The added touch was her drink sloshing all over the place.

"Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, oh, look at this mess!" She griped in a high-pitched voice.

He smiled charmingly, and shrugged. "It happens. You okay? That could've taken your leg off."

"Only if it was a fake, buddy-boy." She winked. "I'm just ticked about my new shirt. Dang, yours got it too! Here, let me buy you a drink, it's the least I can do."