The Last Avenger [What If...? x DCAMU Crossover]

6. Not So Alone

"Is your arm ok?" he asked out of the blue.

"What?"

"It's just looked a little stiff when you moved it, and I was just wondering."

"Well, uh... I got into fight the other night and a bullet grazed me." Dick raised his eyebrows. "Would've been a bit more than that if Batman had swooped in."

"You met Batman?"

"And Nightwing." I gave Dick a small smile. "He stitched up my arm."

"Sounds like a nice guy," he said, standing up and tucking the USB in his pocket.

"Be careful, ok?" Sure, I knew he ran around in bulletproof spandex, but I still worry. I knew the danger of the job and the toll it could take.

Dick spun on his heel and spread his arms. "I'm always careful."

[Bruce Wayne]

Bruce rubbed his temples, the lights hanging over him were too bright for his liking and the white were hard to look at. Twenty years of his night job had turned him into a nocturnal animal. And here he was, doing paperwork while he should be focusing on this new case. Blocks in Crime Alley were being sold, leaving the residents homeless, and there had been and heavy up take in trafficking.

Bruce wished he could say he was making a difference. But he didn't know. Murder. Robbery. Assault. Twenty years later, they're still up. This city was eating itself. Maybe it was beyond saving. But Bruce had to try. PUSH HIMSELF. The nights all roll together in the rush, behind the mask. Sometimes in the morning, he had to force himself to remember everything that happened.

He ignored this thought and pushed himself into an upright position, the sound of his office door opening sending his glaze in that direction. Bruce was met with a smile and a USB stick in his face.

"Hey B," Dick said. "I got that intel you were waiting on."

Bruce looked up, a little surprised. Which didn't happen often. "That was fast." It had only been half an hour, the laptop shot full of holes and heavily encrypted.

Dick nodded. "I know." Bruce noticed the way he pursed his lips, the way he did went he was thinking hard. He gave Bruce a meaningful look. "I think we should talk about that."

"About?"

"Jane Wallace Beaufort-Stuart," Dick said shortly. "The woman from the other night, the one who took a bullet without flinching. She's seriously overqualified for her job in I.T."

Bruce pursed his lips, the memory of the woman – Jane – momentarily flashed through his mind. She's known to brace his head when he smashed through the window. "Right, but what does—"

"Bruce, you're swamped. You've got that Expo coming up, you could use an assistant."

Bruce stopped, turning to look at his adopted son for any sign at he was joking, maybe had bribed him to play a prank on him. But there was no hint of humour. "Dick, I don't need to be telling another person about my—"

"That's not what I'm saying," Dick cut off his complaints. "If you're worried about your identity, Jane could cover this side of work while you run around dressed like a bat. And Alfred's getting old, she could help him with some of the house chores."

He wasn't oblivious, he knew how old Alfred was getting but it felt wrong to have someone come in as replacement of sorts. Still, Dick had made some fair points and the ability to leave an event in a time of need and have some cover for him would be a better plan then none. And it might be a good idea to keep a close eye on her. The way she had been so composed when anyone else would have been distraught, that took discipline.