Jennifer had been shot with five bullets, all doing massive damage to her intestines and other internal organs. It was actually a miracle that she'd survived long enough to even make it to the hospital, let alone through the surgery. Bruce started, one hand shooting out to grab the end of the bed to steady himself as he read that his cousin's heart had actually stopped not once, but twice while she was on the operating table.
From what he was reading, it seemed that the doctors couldn't work out exactly what had caused her to survive at all. Bruce, though, had his suspicions. And, as his eyes scanned her vitals that had been taken on the hour, every hour for the past fourteen hours, his suspicions only deepened. For what Jennifer had been through, she was recovering remarkedly quickly.
"I hope that the extra healing factor is the only thing that you got," Bruce murmured as he snapped the file closed and dropped it back into its holder.
There was one way to be sure and now, with no one else around was the perfect time to do something about it.
Pulling a needle and vial from his pocket, Bruce rounded the bed. Her arm felt quite cool when he grabbed it, turning it over so that the inside of her elbow was exposed. After removing the needle's cover, he inserted it into her vein and watched as her thick red blood quickly filled the vial.
The instant that it was full, Bruce removed the needle and popped a cotton swab on it before attaching a piece of tape to hold it there. His hand automatically made its way to her forehead before he gently lifted one eyelid. A frown marred his face as he took in the unfocussed green eye. Jennifer'd always had green eyes but for the life of him, he couldn't remember if they were this vibrant. The pitfalls of not seeing her for over a decade, he supposed.
"Bruce?" a quiet voice asked.
"Hello, Uncle Willaim," Bruce replied, turning to greet the man, dropping the now sealed vial of blood into his pocket.
"I didn't know you were coming in this morning; you should have said, we could have come together," William admonished.
"Sorry about that," Bruce replied. "Guess I've sort of gotten used to being independent."
"You've had a hard life, right enough," William agreed.
Bruce's eyes widened at the startling statement.
"Oh, don't give me that look," William said, as he moved to stand on the opposite side of Jennifer's bed, his large hands instantly finding his daughter's. "You're family. My sister's boy. Do you honestly think that I haven't been keeping tabs on you? I know the Army's been trying to find you for years, though for the life of me I don't know why."
"Let's just say that they're interested in some of my research, research that I don't think they have the best of intensions for," Bruce replied vaguely.
William held up one hand. "Hey, you don't need to explain anything to me. You're family; that takes precedent over everything."
Bruce gave a nod of thanks, not quite sure what to say. This level of trust wasn't something that he was used to.
"I'm guessing that you're not planning on sticking around?" William asked, the nod of his head indicating the bag that Bruce had left just inside the hospital room's door.
"I can't stay," Bruce replied.
"Not even for Jennifer? I know that she'll want to see you when she eventually wakes up," William said.
"I'm sorry," Bruce replied, anguish clear in his voice.
"Where will you go?" William asked.
"New York. I've got a friend there to see and he's … he's got a safe place for me to stay," Bruce replied.
"You want to give me the name of this place? If for no other reason than so Jennifer can write or visit once she'd better," William coerced.
"Stark Tower," Bruce hedged, knowing that that wasn't quite the correct name anymore, but that it'd do. That was until inspiration struck. "Actually, I'm not sure when I'll get there or how long I'll stay. How about you tell her to look up Harry Potter. He owns a place called the Marauder's Den not too far from the Tower. He'll know how to get in contact with me."
"Harry Potter. Marauder's Den," William muttered as he wrote the names on a loose piece of paper that he found on the bedside table.
William reached across the bed, then, offering his hand to the younger man.
"You take care of yourself, Bruce. And if you're ever in the neighbourhood or even if you just feel like a holiday, you come visit. You hear me?" William smiled.
"I will," Bruce promised.
"And Bruce? Thank you," William said, directing both of their gazes to the young woman lying between them.
ooo00ooo
Two days, or more precisely, nights, surveilling Bradshaw's apartment assured Daredevil that his hunch had been correct: Hardy wasn't coming back here. The odds that she'd accomplished what she'd aimed to the last time that she'd come here was approaching certainty.
Unfortunately, Bullseye had interrupted that mission and by the time that Spider-Man and Mage had scared the man off and had left themselves, Hardy had already left.
With a frustrated sigh, Daredevil slapped his thigh with one of his batons. There was nothing for it but to take the direct approach. Unfortunately, that wasn't what he'd originally wanted. Confronting the girl without information was a bad deal; if he didn't ask the right questions, it was all too easy to miss the vital part. But then, it was the same thing in the courtroom – never ask a question that you didn't already know the answer to.
Holstering his baton, Daredevil turned and began racing across the rooftop. Unerringly, he planted his foot just right, pushing off in a jump that had him soaring across the alley numerous stories below before landing on the next building and continuing his run.
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