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Lost Holidays
Chapter Ten
written by destinyawakened
Friday, February 13 –Day Before Valentine's Day
At least the snow season had started to die down a little; there were still remnants of the last storm, piles of slushed, dirty snow, snowmen melting on street corners... A part of Jim Gordon thought he'd miss it, but another part knew it was a relief. Spring would come to the city quicker than he expected, bringing with it warmer days, trees blooming, and, best of all, a lull in criminal activity, at least until summer started. But he had a lot of time until he had to worry about that. Hopefully the snow was over until next winter. There was always the off-chance of one last big snow storm right before spring swung into full effect.
Somehow, Gordon had been able to get through half the winter with a car that kept dying, hitching rides from Bruce or Stephens and taking the bus on very rare occasions. He decided that after spending more than two thousand dollars on fixing a car worth only five hundred, it was fine to just bite the bullet and buy a new car. Well, maybe a new used car. He had asked Bruce to come along to help him decide on the best car, since he seemed to know quite a bit more than Gordon did, and could help him find the better deal. He just secretly hoped that Bruce didn't try to talk him into a fancy new car he knew Gordon couldn't afford, then offer to buy it for him. The playboy was always trying those tricks on him, especially since he started having car troubles.
Aside from Bruce attempting to haggle down the prices on all the used cars, Gordon thought the process went well. The salesman did attempt to get Gordon to buy a brand new Lexus, his argument being that the police commissioner of Gotham City needed a ride that showed the power he had. Bruce had laughed at this, and just as Gordon had assumed he would, offered to help him buy it. After he refused, the salesman showed Gordon their wonderful selection of used vehicles, from which he picked a gray Volvo, a couple years old with very few miles. Bruce winced when Gordon signed his name to the paperwork.
“I don't wanna hear it, Bruce,” he said, taking the keys from the salesman. “I don't need a fancy sports car or a luxury vehicle to get me around town. People gawk at me enough when I'm with you. I don't need a car to attract more attention.”
“You could have at least bought something new, though. Used cars are not known for being in the best condition.”
Gordon narrowed his eyes at the younger man, walking out of the sales office, stopping in front of his new-to-him car. “It's a Volvo. These things last for years.”
Bruce sighed from beside him, shaking his head. “Wasn't your last car a Volvo?”
“No. It was a Volkswagen.”
“Aren't they he same?” Bruce asked, a confused look on his face. Gordon knew better than to play into this act; it was the dense playboy facade that Bruce put on when he wanted to be funny, only Gordon didn't find it all that funny half the time.
“No,” He said plainly, walking over to the driver's side of the car, opening the door to get in. “I'll meet you back at the MCU.” He offered Bruce a wave, which only got him a slight nod in return. He knew he wouldn't see him for another two hours or so, since there was at least another hour of daylight left. He slid into the driver's seat and turned the key. Hearing the sound of a well-maintained machine that was actually his, and running, made him very happy; no more bumming rides off Bruce or Stephens and getting suckered into doing things (like going to bars or fancy restaurants) he normally would not do. He had his freedom back.
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It wasn't their usual night to meet, but since Valentine's Day was tomorrow, Gordon decided it was best to hold one more meeting to brief everyone on what was going to happen. Well, what might happen. They still weren't sure what to expect; nothing had turned up in terms of leads to locations – or victims, for that matter. They were pretty sure the holiday was spot on. Bruce had mentioned he that had some ideas to run past Gordon about possible victims, but Gordon told him to hold them until tonight, even though Bruce seemed a little reluctant to wait.
Usually Gordon had the batsignal blaring into the night sky, but he didn't feel the need tonight; it was just on for show anyway, keeping the criminals away with the knowledge that Batman was back out on the streets after a year's absence. It helped – not much, maybe, but it did cut down on the small-time crimes. Tonight, he stood next to the signal, waiting. Stephens' was puffing on a cigarette, something Gordon wished he'd never quit doing, since he could use the stress relief these days. Selina stood, grim-faced, arms folded over her chest. Bruce had gone on countless dates with her, but she was pretty smart about the information she divulged and kept a lot of things to herself; Bruce didn't know any more about her than Gordon did. But her secrecy in it self made Gordon more wary. Bruce was finally starting to see through her, noticing she lied about a lot, or at least didn't tell the whole truth, and eventually apologized to Gordon for not trusting him in the first place.
“Quiet night,” growled a voice from beside him, low enough that only he could hear it. Gordon turned his head, watching Batman walk slowly out of the shadow; sometimes he thought maybe Bruce enjoyed being theatrical, sneaking up and scaring people. He didn't doubt it; Bruce put on an act most of the time, day and night. It was rare, and wonderful, when Gordon got to see the real side of Bruce Wayne, the side that no else did.
“Very,” Gordon agreed. Selina shifted closer to them. Gordon had started noticing a few weeks ago that Selina had started developing an obsessive interest in Batman, always asking questions about him – how long had Gordon known him, where did he come from, who is he really – all things that Gordon ignored repeatedly. Stephens threw down his cigarette butt, stepping up to the group.
“What's the plan for tomorrow?” Selina asked, her tone sounding a little irritated.
“We compiled a list of hotels and restaurants that are not very popular. You and Stephens get the job of going to each of them tomorrow and checking out their guest and reservation lists for the evening. Batman will be watching a few people who might be targeted next --”
“Commissioner, about that,” Batman started, gently easing his way through Gordon's spiel. “I think you need to stay low tomorrow.”
Gordon glared at Batman from the corner of his eye, arms folded over his chest.“You can't possibly be suggesting that I could be the killer's next target.”
“I have reason to believe you might be, Jim. It's not absolute, and I have no real proof to show you, but you have to trust me.” Batman had stepped a little closer to him, voice deeper, throaty. Trust seemed to be involved in every argument they had lately; why was it that both of them had issues with it? Gordon knew it was hard to completely trust someone with everything you were, and in time maybe he and Bruce could conquer it together. But could he trust him now?
“What reason?”
Batman stepped in closer, so only Gordon could hear him, aware that Selina and Stephens were watching them all too carefully. “Carmine Falcone's case had been handed off to DA Darin Martin and Assistant DA Laurel Messing a few months ago. Judge Hampton was also the judge newly appointed to his case. Now, Jim, who put Falcone there to begin with?”
Realization dawned on Gordon's face, and he rubbed at his face with his hand, smoothing out his mustache. “I did,” he whispered. He gazed into Batman's eyes, seeing Bruce's concerned look hiding behind them. “Are you sure? There is no one else?”
Batman shook his head. “There could be a few others, the Mayor for one, Stephens maybe.”
“Well, lets not jump to conclusions. We'll notify the mayor and keep Selina with Stephens tomorrow. I'll be fine.”
Selina poked her head in between them. “Uh, hi? Remember us, over here, part of the conversation too?” She had a smile on her face, but her wide eyes showed a lot of irritation..
“Sorry, sorry.” Gordon raised his voice an octave so the other two could hear him. “Batman has just informed me that the next victim could be the mayor,” he said, and when Batman glared at him, Gordon rolled his eyes just enough to show Bruce he hated playing this game. “Or Stephens, or myself.”
Stephens stepped in, waving his arms defensively. “Wait! When did I become a potential anything?”
“It's in relation to the Carmine Falcone case. There is some reason to believe that he is whats connecting these murders.” Gordon said. A realization sudden popped into his head – Alberto Falcone. He had been in town during all the murders so far, coming into town just in time for them to happen and then leaving again when there was a bit of a lull. It might be a little far-fetched, but it was definitely worth looking into now. He needed the proof; without it there was nothing but a lost cause, here.
Stephens sighed.“I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I'm more worried about the mayor or even you, Gordon.”
“I'm not worried about me,” Gordon growled. He was tired of everyone assuming he couldn't defend himself. Sure one time he'd been caught off guard by the Joker's psycho girlfriend, but one time did not beat out a twenty-five year track record of not being seriously injured. “I want you to go down to City Hall tomorrow and up the security for the mayor. Tell him it's just a precaution.”
“You're the boss,” Stephens said. “Anything else? Or can I go home and enjoy a night with my wife for once?”
“Go,” Gordon waved him off. “You too, Detective Kyle; you're to continue your investigation tomorrow without Lt. Stephens. You can go.” He nodded at her, gesturing for the stairwell. Selina nodded as well, looking back at Batman, who kept his eyes off of her, staring out into the night.
“Yes, commissioner.” Selina left down the staircase back to the main offices.
Gordon turned to Batman. “I don't think I'm the one we have to worry about, Bruce. The mayor seems a more likely target. The killer seems to be picking the victims based on status.”
“If you haven't noticed, Jim, you're pretty high status these days. 'Commissioner of police' is a pretty big title.” Bruce had dropped the rasp, concern in his voice.
“I know that.” He was growing annoyed with Bruce, the last thing he really wanted right now. “I can take care of myself. I have that new cell phone tracker you gave me last week, I'm sure if I get into any trouble, I can figure out how to use it.”
Bruce spread his hands out in front of him, an attempt, Gordon noticed, to calm him. “Jim...”
“What would you have me do? I can't just sit at home and do nothing. This could make or break this case.”
Bruce had crossed his arms over his chest; the image would have been daunting if Gordon didn't know the man behind the mask. “Fine,” it was forced, and unsure sounding. Gordon knew it took everything in Bruce to say the words, to not worry, to not force his opinion further; they were too much a-like in so many ways.
“Bruce...”
Batman put a hand up between them, almost as if he wanted to push Gordon away. “I said it was fine. Just promise me you won't do anything crazy.”
“When have I ever done anything crazy?”
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