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Jonathan answered on the third ring. He'd pulled it out of his pocket on the first, letting it play out as he looked at the caller id.
“Hello Izzy,” he greeted the young woman on the other side of the line with a carefully maintained tone of casual professionalism.
“You- you work for Red Hood, right?” She breathed into her phone, her voice on the verge of panic.
This was one secret he didn’t care to hide among a reliable amount of his informants. Jonathan had found that being affiliated with Red Hood had afforded him a friendlier disposition among those who had been around when Hood first started out.
Jonathan felt the hairs at the back of his neck bristle at the hurried, hushed tone of her voice. Desperation and fright were never a good combination.
“Are you hurt?”
“It’s not me, it’s-” she was nearly breathless now in her hurry to get the words out, choking on the exhale.
“What do you need?” Jonathan softened his voice, keeping a persistent urgent note. Over the past few months, he’d found that people often didn't need reassurance as much as direction.
“Red Hood, he’s-” she started before stopping again, clearly frightened but not for herself.
Jonathan felt a sudden wave of heavy numbness wash over him, as if someone had just doused him with ice water and the shivers had not yet kicked in.
Izzy hesitated on the line, as if taking a moment to scan Hood over. Jonathan had to put his tongue between his teeth to stop them from grinding.
“He’s in a bad way,” she finally said, opening the floodgates. “Someone blew up the old church and I think he dragged himself out of the mess, he managed an impressive way if he did though. We saw Batman digging through it before we found Hood collapsed on the ground and now the place is flooded with cops. I don’t think we were spotted with him, but he doesn't stand a chance if The Bat comes looking.”
“Who is we?” Jonathan started running.
“Alice and Noelle helped me hide him behind a dumpster and told me to flag down the ambulance that’s already there but the cops would get him and now they’ve both left and I didn’t know who else to call, he’s losing blood-”
There was a buzz under his fingers, his heart beating loud enough to hear. “I'll be there soon, don't leave him”.
He couldn't drive there, not without attracting too much attention. By some luck, he also wasn't too far out. He slowed his running steps as he got closer, trying to masquerade as just another curious civilian, failing to subtly regulate his breathing back to a normal rhythm with the burning of his lungs.
He spotted a man being lifted up in a gurney out of the rubble by a couple of paramedics, his skin unnaturally pale where it wasn’t spotted with blood, dusted mop of green hair dripping with it. Batman wasn’t anywhere he could see. Jonathan looked away.
He kept out of sight of the cops as he slinked away, spotting Izzy standing alone at the mouth of an ill lit alley.
“Over here,” she ushered him to the side of the dirty dumpster, the ground speckled with drying red.
Jonathan felt his heart skip a beat at the sight before him. The man wore no red helmet, but the clothes, singed and dusty, and guns, missing in numbers, were unmistakable.
He was positioned against the brick wall, his head slumped towards his chest. Blood poured freely from two nasty cuts to his collarbone and cheek, smearing his bare face and chest in deep red. A matching domino mask covered the eyes, torn for a slit to reveal one unconscious swollen eye.
Jonathan had seen the physical effects of an explosion on a person more than once by now, it seems like he couldn’t go a week without something catching and erupting these days. Whatever damage Hood had suffered had gone beyond the effect of the blast.
Batman was even more of an active threat than he’d first thought.
Jonathan shot a desperate look back to the police sirens and the crowd’s commotion, as if the dark nightmare could sense his realization and follow the scent of blood to this dirty side alley.
It was too dark here, even with the illumination of the main road and the flickering light overhead. Jonathan increased his phone’s brightness, unwilling to risk a flashlight, and crouched down to the unconscious Red Hood for a quick inspection. His pulse was steady, if weak, his breathing somewhat unobtrusive, but he was losing blood.
A small puddle of it discreetly pooled in the small gap between his back and the wall, running down his face and neck, soaking into his clothes. He opened Hood’s mouth to check the slow trickle of blood from his lips, only for a gush of building red to spill out. The motion stretched the cut in the skin, revealing his top teeth through the gash.
Izzy let out a hiss of breath behind him at the gruesome sight. Hood remained unnaturally still.
He cursed, flicking his knife open to cut a piece of his shirt out for something to stop the bleeding. Jonathan stuffed the fabric into Hood’s mouth, keeping his head tilted down. It was a miracle he hadn't choked on his own blood by now.
He should have told Izzy to stop the bleeding on the phone, take the risk of going in blind and guide her through first aid. It was beyond stupid, he’d made a bad call.
Jonathan dialed Marie with bloody fingers, skipping her answered greeting, “the alley north to the old church, park your bike at least five blocks away and run. I need you,” he hung up.
Izzy hovered nervously above him, fretting her hands on her skirt. Direction is better than reassurance, a task is twice as helpful.
“This woman,” Jonathan pulled up a photo of Marie on his phone, “is going to arrive soon. Can you please go and direct her here like you did for me?”
“Yes, I can do that,” Izzy nodded with sudden resolve, disappearing into the street beyond.
Jonathan debated the pros and cons of moving Red Hood, whatever damage Izzy and the rest had had to inflict to hide him could only get worse with further movement. They could be unknowingly dooming him.
Another police siren cut through the air, too close for comfort. What other choice is there?
The closest safe house was fifteen minutes away by foot. He could do it, call Marie again from the safety of privacy and discretion and direct her to the nearest doctor.
Jonathan drew a deep breath in, preparing himself. He placed one hand under Hood’s legs, the other securing his waist, and lifted.
He lasted as long as ten seconds and two steps before he had to put him down to prevent them both from crashing to the ground. As Izzy would have probably told him, Hood was too heavy to carry alone. He'd have to wait for Marie.
The fact that Hood remained unconscious through it all didn’t escape his buzzing mind.
Jonathan wiped bloodied hands on his shirt, picking his phone and considered his options before calling Callie, cashing in a favour.
Her and, by extension, her mother could be trusted to keep quiet about the whole situation long enough for them to find the emergency exit out of it.
“Callie, it's Jonathan. I need you to bring your mother to the address I'm texting you and as much medical equipment as the two of you can carry, it’s an emergency.”
“What?” a groggy voice sounded from the other side of the line. Jonathan had to take another long inhale to settle his nerves.
“It’s an emergency,” he gritted out, unsuccessful in concealing his impatience, “I’m calling in that favor you owe me, now. The timing is non-negotiable,” he said before repeating the earlier message.
“Yeah, ok,” she finally sounded awake and aware, “we’ll be there. But don’t expect my mom to be happy about it”.
“Just as long as she shows up,” Jonathan felt the tension in his chest loosen as he ticked off another task.
“Give me half an hour”.
Jonathan closed his eyes, rushing them would only cause them to forget and misplace necessary equipment, it could cost Red Hood his life. “See you soon,” he said before ending the call.
His eyes flickered back to his unconscious boss. He’d seen Red Hood bloodied before, had even helped him stitch up a stab wound not too long ago. Hood had looked at him then, truly considering the offered help for the first time in months instead of slinking away to lick at his wounds alone.
But he’d been fully alert through it all, giving sarcastic remarks in a poorly hidden method to distract himself from the pain of needles stitching back torn muscle and skin.
Jonathan had never seen Hood unconscious, let alone helpless. Any two bit thug could take their shot at him right now and he would die unaware.
Jonathan shook his head of the thought, focusing on the feeling of his nails digging into his palms.
He crouched down again, using his pocket knife to cut his own sleeves off. He used one to wrap around Hood’s face, careful to leave the nose uncovered. The other he cut in two and packed into the deep cut at the base of the throat and replaced the one inside of his cheek, hoping it would be enough to slow the bleeding.
With no better alternatives, he faced the mouth of the alley and took out his gun, keeping watch of the slow rise and descent of Hood’s chest from the corner of his eye.
Marie came running into the alley not long after. His heart peaked at the attention it could draw, but no one came running after other than Izzy.
“She caught me up to speed. How is he-” Jonathan could spot the second Marie saw Hood, the color draining out of her face. Jonathan had the sudden thought that he too must have been paler than usual.
“Where to?” she asked, straight to the point.
“It’s not far. If we both take hold of one side and hurry we can get him there in fifteen minutes, I already called for a doctor.”
Marie nodded, turning to Izzy. “Thank you,” she slipped her a hundred dollar bill, “for your troubles and your silence”.
“I-” Izzy looked between the two of them, her eyes landing on the unconscious Red Hood. “Take care of him,” she told them before turning on her heel and leaving the alley for the last time.
Jonathan turned to Marie, “I’ll take the wounded side, you take the..”
“less visibly wounded side?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, bending down to hoist Hood up.
They took the side streets, keeping to the shadows. For once, Jonathan felt immensely grateful for Gotham residents’ habit to keep to their own.
Together, they made it just in time to let Callie and Dr. Tessa Green in, climbing the short flight of stairs to the apartment. Jonathan directed Callie to fish out his keys and open the door for them to gently deposit Hood on the couch.
Dr. Green gave them one hard look before opening her suitcase, gesturing for Callie to do the same with the second one. “How long has he been unconscious?” she asked as she checked his pulse, before moving to listen to his chest.
“Close to fifty minutes. Maybe more” Jonathan replied, his mouth dry.
As if on que, Hood began to stir, his breathing quickening from the slow unconscious breath of before.
Dr. Green eyed him, putting her stethoscope to the side. “He needs a hospital-” she began to say before yelping back at the sudden grab at her arm.
“No,” Red Hood slurred at her with surprising vigor, holding her arm in a vice.
“Callie!”
“On it!” her daughter called back, uncapping a needle and injecting its contents into Hood’s other arm.
Red Hood’s hold slackened as the sedatives kicked in, his arm dropping back down.
Jonathan felt unease roll off of him in waves, it shouldn’t have been that easy.
Dr. Green eyed them again, awaiting their decision.
“No hospitals,” Jonathan reiterated. Hospitals meant cops and cops meant Batman and Blackgate, if they’re lucky, or a bullet in a holding cell, realistically. Marie nodded in agreement next to him.
“Right,” Dr. Green gave them one last judgemental look before going back to her inspection as Callie began to undress Red Hood. She scowled slightly as she peeled back Jonathan’s makeshift bandages off of Hood’s face but didn’t comment.
The discarded shirt revealed a body littered with already darkening bruises. They flipped him half way over to check his back for further injuries before discarding his pants as well.
“Wait,” Jonathan stopped her before she could peel off the domino mask completely.
“I need to check his pupils,” Dr. Green said with some irritation, “the mask is in the way”.
“Give me a second,” Jonathan went to the adjacent kitchen, grabbing a hand towel and cutting two holes in its middle before covering Hood’s face, keeping the nose bellow the fabric.
The doctor huffed at his efforts but continued without comment.
Satisfied that there are no other open wounds, she began to stitch the two cuts to a close, stopping the flow of the blood completely and putting a layer of sterile adhesive pads above them.
“Good job on that ankle,” she told her daughter when she finished, checking over her ankle immobilization.
“Thanks mom, anything else you want me to do?”
Her lips tightened in response, turning back to them. “I did all I could do for him, but he lost too much blood, which is something I don’t exactly keep on me”.
Outside of your body, Jonathan had the hysterical thought before it turned to an idea.
“I know you refused before, but he desperately needs a hospital-”
“I’m O neg. We can do a transfusion.”
Dr. Green raised one skeptical brow, already objecting, “you run the risk of illness, for both of you”.
“I’m clean and healthy enough. I’ll take the risk with him,” he told her, feeling sure of himself for the first time that night.
“I could lose my licence over this, you know” she stared him down, challenging.
He returned the hard look, strengthening his resolve.
“It’s your funeral,” she relented, digging through her bag for the proper equipment. “Bring that dining table over here and lay down on it. And maybe change out of that shirt, it’s unsanitary."
Jonathan looked down on himself, it was less of a shirt and more of a torn and dirty sack of fabric at this point. He took the shirt off without grabbing a replacement in an effort to save time. The apartment was warm enough.
He helped Marie carry the table and position it next to the couch as Callie moved the shorter coffee table to the side.
Marie squeezed his hand once, slipping a couch cushion under his head.
“Thanks,” he said as the needle went into his arm, his blood flowing down the clear tubing into Hood’s vein.
Dr. Green left Callie in charge of monitoring the transfusion, heading for her suitcase.
“I’m leaving him some spare bandages,” she stacked them on the kitchen counter, sending a glance their way. “The bandages should be replaced daily and he shouldn’t shower for at least 24 hours from now. When he does, tell him to not get soap or water directly on the stitches and to keep them dry throughout the day. You know what? I’ll just write it down,” she pulled out a small notepad out of her coat, scribbling her instructions.
“I’ve added some antibiotics and something for the pain,” she added after a pause, “the dosage is written on the bottle”.
“The pain relief, is it opioids?” Jonathan turned his head fully to her.
“No”.
Jonathan nodded, turning his head back to Hood. He didn’t know the man beyond the helmet and the job, but something in the way he reacted to the opioid addicts in the alley, victims, he’d called them victims, told him he wouldn’t appreciate it.
He spent the next ten minutes watching Marie carefully taping Hood’s mask back on with some medical tape from the doctor’s bag while Callie threw away bloodied gauze pads and tidied after themselves. A blanket now covered Hood’s near naked body.
“Time’s up,” Dr. Green gently pulled the needle from the pit of his elbow, instructing him to press a cotton ball to it before doing the same for Red Hood.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as he slowly got up from the table.
“Fine.”
She raised one skeptical brow.
“A little lightheaded,” he admitted. Marie shoved a new shirt and a glass of water into his hands at the words, he nodded his thanks to her.
The brow returned to its original place on Dr. Green’s face at his answer, “that’s better. Don’t lie to your doctor, kid.”
Marie huffed a laugh at him by his side and Jonathan gave the doctor a small smile in response, “anything else we should know for his care?” he gestured his head to the sleeping man on the couch.
Dr. Green sighed, considering Hood before returning her gaze to them. “I can’t be certain without scans, but he’s got at least three bruised ribs on top of a sprained ankle and the two lacerations I sutured, not to mention a possible concussion. He’s also got multiple bruises across his body and minor burns on his palms- that’s what the lotion on the counter is for,” she shook her head. A doctor without a hospital, it couldn’t have been a fun night for her as well.
“He shouldn’t be aggravating those wounds for two months at minimum, but I don’t imagine he’ll listen to reason”.
“He won’t,” Marie said with an amused if sad tilt of her lips.
“Best I can talk him into is a month,” Jonathan offered, still pressing the cotton to his elbow pit.
“It’s his funeral, take him to a hospital if he doesn’t wake up in the next twelve hours or watch him die” she shrugged, suddenly solemn, and gathered her suitcases before turning to them in tense resolution, her words having already rattled Jonathan to his core .
“I believe this fulfills whatever debts my daughter has incurred. Stay away from her,” there was a fire in her eyes that made Jonathan distinctly thankful that the needle was already out of his arm. Callie stayed silent, watching the exchange.
“He,” she pointed at Hood, “may come to me to get his stitches removed when he’s healed, after closing hours. Until then and afterwards, I don’t want to see any of you again. Am I clear?”
“Crystal clear,” Marie interjected before Jonathan could reply. “Thank you for your help doctor, let me show you out.”
Dr. Green nodded once to each of them, including her patient, Jonathan noted, before grabbing one of the suitcases and following her daughter out of the apartment.
Callie gave them a short wave from the door, lowering her hand at the look her mother sent her and they were gone.
“That honestly went better than I expected,” Marie came back to the living room, dragging a chair over from the dining space and moving the table to put it in front of the couch with a gesture for Jonathan to sit.
They both stayed there for a moment, letting the sudden quiet wash over them. There was nothing more to do for Hood but wait.
“He looks so young like this,” Marie nearly whispered, as if speaking to herself, taking note of a fact they’d both tried to ignore.
Jonathan stayed quiet, he could never be as honest as her.
“You need to get your sugar up,” she turned tail for the kitchen, which Jonathan had only stocked with non perishables cans.
“Bowls are in the upper right cupboard, there are some tomato soup cans in the one underneath. Silverware is in the drawer by the sink,” he told her as he discarded the small cotton ball and put on the size or two too big shirt she must have found in the bedroom closet.
“Got it,” he heard her rummage through the kitchen, “you got the good brand of soup,” she called out over the low buzz of the microwave.
Jonathan hummed a response. He only got them because she had mentioned in a passing comment that they were her favorite, after all.
She handed him his bowl a few minutes later, coming back to the kitchen to grab her own and drag another chair for her to sit on. They ate in silence, looking at their unconscious boss.
“I didn’t know you handled the safe houses,” she started the conversation when the silence felt oppressive even to Jonathan’s standards.
“Some of them, among other things”. Jonathan thought back to when Hood first entrusted him with the responsibility. He made sure each house was pre stocked with clothes, food and a place for Hood to hide his gear. Even he rarely knew which house Hood would spend his nights or, more accurately, his mornings at.
“It weird to see him like that,” she said, “he normally seems so.. untouchable”
Jonathan looked at her for a moment, before breaking eye contact once more. “Did you contact him yesterday?”
She sighed, a deep remorse, shaking her head. She too didn’t know of Hood’s plan.
Jonathan could only nod in solemn agreement.
She hummed, putting her newly empty bowl on the coffee table by their side. Jonathan followed suit, clearing his throat.
“Marie, I need you to go,” he said, hurrying his words at her change of expression. “There were eyewitnesses to this, rumors are going to run wild and we have to stay on top of it before it spins out of control. You need to talk to your runners and dealers, make sure they understand that these are just rumors and that business is running smoothly as usual. This changes nothing, do you understand?”
Her mouth tightened at his words. He could only hope that the displeasure that colored her features were because of the situation and not his audacity at giving her an order.
“Yeah, okay,” she said at last. “But first, we should dress him. He’s bound to wake up hurt and confused enough without the added bonus of being half naked”.
Jonathan nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. He put his bowl down next to Marie’s, standing up for the bedroom’s closet. As with all of their safehouses, the closet was filled with clothing mostly in Jonathan’s best guesses at Red Hood’s size. He picked a loose shirt and sweatpants and returned to the couch.
Carefully, Jonathan pulled the shirt over Hood’s head, mindful of the wounds, while Marie pulled the pants over his legs.
“I’ll watch over him until he wakes up,” Jonathan said when they finished, picking the bowls to wash in the sink, taking the opportunity to scrub the flakes of dried blood from under his nails.
“Good. Tell me when he wakes up.”
When. It being a matter of if was unthinkable. Jonathan thought of the blood that had pooled under Hood in the alley. He thought about timing and luck.
“Of course”.
Marie paused for a second, looking at Hood one last time before leaving for damage control.
Jonathan dried the bowls, hesitating before keeping one out on the counter and pulling another can of soup to sit next to it.
He moved the dining table fully out of the way and returned to his chair in front of the couch. Hood’s breaths were slow and deep, his brows furrowed together in turmoil even in sleep. Jonathan took hold of his wrist, counting the soft beats.
They got too close to losing him today. He could have died in the explosion or have been apprehended by Batman, sent off to Blackgate never to be seen again with the amount of enemies he’d created for himself there.
Jonathan let go of his pulse point, laying the arm back on the couch. Hood was under no obligation to share his full plans with them, convenient as it may be for Jonathan, but tonight had been a different matter altogether. He needed to get to the bottom of this.
He pulled his phone out, scraping off bits of dried blood. It was far too late in the night to make his calls, but one could always trust the internet for ceaseless updates.
In a city like Gotham, with a revolving door of rogue attacks, there were a few local news channels that would have a reporter ready at all times. Jonathan clicked the first link that popped up, his screen flipping sideways to accommodate the livestream. He dragged the progress bar back until he reached the right time.
“We are here at what used to be Park Row’s old church, where an explosion had occurred around half an hour ago. You can see the wreckage behind me,” the camera zoomed into the ruined church, the red and blue lights of the police cars reflecting on the rubble. “Officials place Batman on the scene as well as The Joker and The Red Hood. As of this time, there are no civilian casualties.” The reporter lifted a hand to his earpiece, listening for a few tense moments. “This just in, we are getting reports that The Joker has been injured and is in critical condition. We’ll keep you updated as the story unfolds”. The broadcast returned to the studio with the two newscasters thanking the reporter. Jonathan continued watching as the two speculated on the explosion, reminding the audience of Red Hood’s abduction of the Joker the night before and criticizing the commissioner and the mayor for Joker’s latest breakout.
Losing interest in their sudden argument, he pressed on the option to return to the live feed, catching the reporter from before in the middle of a sentence, “-unable to name the hospital for security reasons until his return to Arkham. The doctors here tell me that the Joker is stable at the moment, but has suffered a substantial spinal injury that may affect his mobility for the rest of his life”.
Jonathan tuned the rest of it out. For all his plans, Red Hood had never mentioned the Joker to the rest of them. Jonathan had of course caught the very public broadcast of Red Hood kidnapping the freshly escaped Joker yesterday night, had seen his boss inadvertently saving Black Mask in the process.
He didn’t think to contact him then, he recognized a plan set in motion when he saw one. Red Hood wouldn't have appreciated the distraction. He’d made a judgment call, and it was, again, the wrong one.
Jonathan clicked off his phone and looked at his unconscious boss. “What was the plan?” he pointlessly asked. “Why take on Batman now? Why bring the Joker into it?”
He sighed when no answer came, soft sleeping breaths the only sound to fill the silence.
Jonathan got up and began to organize the room, preparing it for when Hood will wake up. When, Marie’s voice echoed in his mind, When he wakes up.
He laid a water bottle on the coffee table along with a straw and sat back on his chair, watching. Everything will be fine, he told himself. Red Hood will pull through. Marie, Uzzie and himself will pull their weight until he’s fully recovered and they’ll all deal with tonight’s fallouts as they come, together.
Hope was a sucker’s game and yet, and yet. With each followthrough, with each bold step the vulnerables of Crime Alley allowed themselves, Jonathan had let the feeling take hold and find refuge between his lungs.
He was unwilling to let go of that feeling, the mission they shared.
It was Red Hood who had given it to him, who, for the first time in a long time, had made it possible for the residents of Crime Alley to lift their chin up for a reason other than defiance.
It was a debt he forever owed to the man clinging to life before him.
Jonathan stopped himself from reaching for Hood’s wrist again, opting to rub at his own tired eyes instead. The events of tonight were starting to catch up to him.
He leaned back in his chair, counting each rise and fall of Hood’s chest, waiting for the sunlight to put this night behind them.