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Lost Holidays
Chapter Fifteen
written by destinyawakened
Tuesday, March 10 – One Week Before Saint Patrick's Day:
When everything was going well in his personal life, Gordon noticed that his work life seemed to fall down a spiraling well of despair, and if work went well then his personal life fell down that well instead. He had yet to figure out how to make everything work out evenly, so that he could stop pulling himself one way or the other, feeling split down the middle. Usually Bruce was very accommodating, helping him with work, trying to stay out of the personal stuff (even though he was half the issue). Bruce, whether he knew it or not, had started a downward spiral himself. Gordon could only describe it as a big mood swing, one that had not budged in at least two days. Gordon was trying to distance himself for a bit, to let the man have a breather, or whatever it was that he needed in order to get out of his current funk.
He had called Alfred the evening before, asking if there were any anniversaries, holidays, birthdays, anything coming up that he needed to have a heads-up about, something that would give reason to Bruce's odd behavior. Unfortunately, Alfred said he couldn't think of anything, but did mention he had noticed a change in the man, and that it had happened so suddenly that he didn't know what had happened – much the same way Gordon himself had noticed it. He couldn't help but suspect the Arkham sessions, again. He had gone to talk to the new head facilitator at Arkham, but the man said that Bruce's file was confidential, that only the judge on the case, the doctor taking care of Bruce, and the mayor himself had access to it. And of course, the mayor was of no help, simply saying that it was out of his hands at this time, that it was up to the doctor to release Bruce from the program. But at what cost? He was afraid Bruce was going to lose his sanity due to a mis-diagnosis, and he was powerless to fix it.
Criminal activity was low – no burglaries in the last week, no shootings=s, no deaths, and most importantly, no murders; but there hadn't been any major holidays, either. Gordon was expecting the next to be in one week, on Saint Patrick's Day. And even though he was supposed to be including Selina in the meetings, he kept everything they said to a minimum, having talked to Bruce and Stephens on the side earlier. Gordon thought for sure that Selina was catching on – suspected that he knew she was up to something – but he couldn't be sure. She kept to herself. There was no more social conversation, no more questions about his personal life, asked in an effort to try to make up for the thick silence that often radiated around them. Now, she stared at him, not saying a word unless she had to. Her briefings were usually given to her later or before the meetings by Stephens, who never left her by herself; he kept her as close as possible, keeping an eye out for anything. Selina knew, she had to know, that they were watching her carefully. Probably one reason why the burglaries had ceased for the time being. Who ever she was working for, she was letting them know that GCPD was on to them, or at least hinting – she had to be. It was all too coincidental.
Even though the crime rates were down, there was still the matter of the Mob. For a while, no one heard from Alberto Falcone; off and on there were rumors of him being in town, but no reasons to suspect him of anything. But with those rumors came ideas, and those ideas had the people of Gotham on their toes. There was major talk now of Alberto starting up the Mob family again, putting the Falcone name back in Gotham, back in the underground, back on the market for causing trouble. Luckily, no one had seen any of the old Mob members together, or even with Alberto for that matter. Rumors were like fire in Gotham City – they spread and spread until they died out completely; it was unfortunate that Gordon didn't see this fire dying down anytime soon, if at all. Some how, he knew someone was fueling the fire, and soon it was just going to explode. That was not a day Gordon was looking forward to. Whether he could stop it or not, the Mob was slowly creeping back into Gotham, one awful soul at a time.
At least they hadn't heard from Thomas Elliot. Gordon was relieved, but at the same time anxious; he had a feeling the man was staying low until the time presented itself for him to advance on a golden opportunity. Gordon hoped not to give him that chance – to cut him off before he got there – but his leads on the doctor were as good as his leads on finding Holiday, and that wasn't saying much. He figured that if he could either get Selina to confess and spill the identify of the source she supposedly had contact with, or if he could find that damn Catwoman himself and get her to talk, he would be able to get to both Hush and Holiday. It was a lot of praying and hoping on his part, two things he did a lot of lately.
Gordon glanced at his watch; five minutes until the next rooftop meeting. He wasn't looking forward to it, with a brooding Bruce in a bat costume, a defensive Selina, and a most likely annoyed Stephens. Where did this leave Gordon? Somewhere in the middle trying to sort through all that emotional garbage that went along with working at the PD. He grabbed his jacket, slipping it on, heading out the meeting room door, rounding the corner to the stairs. He took each one slowly. His feet felt heavy today, as if weighted down. A part of him wanted so much to just go home, veg in front of the television, sleep, and forget about everything – everyone. He sighed, closing his eyes for the brief moment it would take him to open the door leading to the roof. He stepped out into the chilly night air; the crisp wind whipping at his cheeks felt like more of relief a than an annoyance today.
Stephens was already there, as usual, smoking a cigarette, a cup of coffee in his free hand. He nodded to Gordon as he stepped up to the Batsignal. Gordon would have turned it on, but it felt over-used these days, especially since he had Bruce's Batsuit cell, regular cell, manor and penthouse number, not to mention all the car phone numbers in case one of the others didn't work. If all those failed, then yes, he would turn the damn signal on. There was no real point; the crime rate was so low no one would be out to see the glowing white bat in the sky. The price to power it was ridiculous as well. Stephens shot him a glance, as if knowing what he was thinking, and shrugged.
Two more minutes. Selina was usually early, but she was no where to be seen. Gordon looked to Stephens questioningly. “Where's Selina?”
Stephens shrugged again. “It's her night shift tonight, the last I saw her was yesterday afternoon when she left work to go home. I told you, I can't keep track of her once she's off duty.”
“I know, I know,” Gordon said, brushing off the other man's comment. “It's just unlike her to be late.” He realized after he said it just how stupid that really sounded; they didn't really know Selina Kyle at all. She kept a lot to herself, and she was quite a liar it seemed, or at least deceptive. For all he knew, it was very much in her true character to be late.
After ten minutes passed, Gordon sighed, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the rooftop. A few feet away Stephens had pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, blindly offering one to Gordon, as he usually did out of habit, and this time Gordon took one. It had been five years and one wasn't going to ruin him; he needed this; the stress more than enough reason. Stephens offered him a light. He didn't really want to inhale it, just wanted to taste it, remember what it felt like to just relax, forget his worries for five minutes. He let it out slowly, watching the smoke swirl in front of his eyes. Another drag. Don't get addicted, Jim, he thought. It took him over six months to completely stop the first time.
Finally, when Gordon went to stub out the butt of the cigarette, Batman walked out of the shadows, between him and Stephens, watching Gordon with accusing eyes. Gordon didn't look him directly in the eye; he knew the look without having to see it. He stepped on the end of the cigarette, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Batman's, only to find he wasn't looking at him any longer, but behind him at Selina, who was running up the steps, hair pulled back in a braid that had started to unravel, wispy pieces fallen down the side of her face, cheeks flushed, and what looked like the start of a bruise on her shoulder. She stopped, hands on knees, catching her breath.
“Sorry. I'm late,” she said breathlessly. “Traffic was a bitch.” Gordon stared at her in disbelief, was she really pulling that line? Traffic from her place to MCU was a breeze at any time of day, and she lived less than five blocks away. He didn't buy it, not when she looked like hell.
“Glad you're here now,” Gordon said, trying to leave the accusing tone at the door, though he was finding it hard to do so. He looked back to Batman, who glared at Selina, a knowing, hard stare in his eyes. “Are you with us?” Gordon asked. Batman turned his eyes to Gordon, giving him a slight nod.
Stephens stepped in, tossing his last cigarette to the ground. “So, Saint Patrick's Day. What do we know?”
“You know everything I do, Stephens.” Selina responded bitterly, a mean, forced smile on her lips. Gordon almost wanted to laugh, just because he knew it was getting to her – the constant surveillance, the constant companionship of Lt. Stephens at every turn; it would drive anyone to drink.
“The Mayor,” Batman growled.
“The Mayor?” Gordon asked. “As in he's the next target?” Batman nodded. He was very quiet tonight, and Gordon began to wonder if more than just a bad mood swing was affecting him after all. Well, he knew Batman was usually quiet, but since he found out the secret identity, Batman had seemed much more talkative.
“Are you sure?” Stephens asked, skeptically
“Positive.” Another growl, this one deeper, more throaty, possibly growing angry.
“Fine. I believe it. He was a possibility last time, it makes sense. Let's work on putting a group together for City Hall next week. In the mean time, let's try to figure out where the murderer might try to take his next victim.” Gordon paused, talking a little lower, so only Stephens and possibly Batman could hear him; “I'm sure he's not too happy about losing his last one.”
“He ain't too smart either, remember. There's a chance he'll screw up again this time, too.” Stephens said, his voice louder than Gordon would have preferred. He shot Stephens a glance, he was also letting out more information, more speculation than he wanted him to with Selina around. If she was working for or with Holiday, they didn't need her going back and tell him everything they were thinking they knew about him.
Selina had a frown on her face, but didn't say anything. Gordon noticed she seemed to be holding her tongue, not saying what she really wanted to say. Her arms were folded over her chest, and she was keeping her guard up.
“Let's not count on it. Tomorrow, start the security setup for City Hall. I don't want any surprises come next Tuesday.” Gordon put his hands in his pockets, fiddling with his keys.“Get me whatever leads you can on locations. Even if they don't seem likely. Anything helps.”
Gordon caught Selina out of the corner of his vision, rolling her eyes. He wanted to say something, but bit back his tongue. Stephens gave Gordon a little wave, opening the door to the stairs. Selina just stood there, staring at Batman, a lusty look in her eyes, glaring him down. Gordon didn't like it, and he liked it even less when Batman stared right back at her, unblinking. He had promised Bruce no getting jealous, especially with Selina, but he thought that those two were more friends than anything else. And then there was the fact that Selina didn't even know Bruce was Batman.
“Good night, Detective,” Gordon said to Selina, giving her the hint to leave. She turned her attention to Gordon, nodding, and then heading down the stairs. Gordon waited until the door had closed fully before turning his gaze back to Batman. “Why so late?”
“It's complicated.” Batman said. He was still using the growl; it was usually automatic for him, a part of the charade he played, bringing out that side of him.
“Complicated,” Gordon echoed. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, knowing he'd just left it looking a complete mess. He stared at Batman – Bruce – with an irritated frown on his face. “You're not going to tell me?”
“I told you. It's a little too complicated to explain right now. I have to be sure of a few things before I can just give you information I'm not even sure about.” Bruce's tone was low, but he had dropped the growl at least. He sounded annoyed, angry even. Gordon watched as he flexed his gloved hands, something he noticed the other man did when trying to control himself, especially as Batman.
Gordon nodded disbelievingly. “Fine, when you do figure it out you know where to find me.” He thew a hand in the air, an angry wave, as he headed towards the door to go downstairs; he was far from in the mood to deal with Bruce's attitude tonight. Gordon was more hurt than angry; their mutual trust laid on the line, and slowly he could see Bruce starting to not trusting him as much as he should have been. What happened? He wanted desperately for Bruce to come after him, stop him, kiss him, tell him he was sorry and then spill everything he knew to Gordon, reclaiming that trust. His hand touched the door knob, twisting it, and he felt Bruce's eyes on him as he pulled the door open and slipped through it. His right foot hit the stairs, and he felt more disappointed than he had in years.
He made his way down the stairs, passing Selina on the first floor, looking as if she was headed towards the bathroom. Gordon stopped, ducking behind the wall, watching where she went. She ran past the bathroom and quickly jogged up the stairs. Curious, Gordon followed her, careful to keep his distance. She got to the roof, opening the door and disappearing through it. Gordon waited a few minutes, to be sure she wasn't coming back down, then stepped quietly up to door, cracking it open enough, hoping he might be able to see what she was doing from there. Luckily enough, he was.
Selina stood in front of Batman, who was staring down at her, eyes narrowed, jaw set strongly, saying something to her Gordon couldn't quite pick up. Selina started to use her hands to explain to Batman, but didn't raise her voice, though Gordon wished she would have. Batman had pointed a gloved finger in her face, and she was leaning towards him; they were exchanging some heated words, their body language showed it. Gordon was about to step back, go down stairs, aware that Batman was obviously handling the situation, whatever it was, when he saw Selina throw her arms around the dark knight's neck, kissing him passionately.
Gordon first reaction was scream, but he had enough training as a cop not to go with first reactions, but with first instincts. Instead, he stayed put, observing the two, expecting Batman to pull away, or push her away, throw her off and scold her for evening attempting that. But Gordon was sorely disappointed. Batman wrapped his arms tightly around Selina, pulled her nearer and returned the kiss, heated and strong; Gordon could almost taste it, knowing exactly how it felt, how Batman felt at every curve. Now he wanted to scream louder, to rush in, to be jealous. He shook his head, closing the door, and holding onto the stair railing, taking each step carefully. He didn't know exactly what to feel; anger was rising up to the top, but despair was toying with his emotions at the same time, too. He needed to go home, to bed, to sleep, to forget. He needed to wait until morning before attempting to talk to Bruce, aware that if he tried it now things would be said that he didn't mean, or maybe he would mean them, but didn't want them said. A clearer head in the morning, coffee, time to vent, to wonder, to find his words before looking the handsome playboy in the face to accuse him of cheating. Cheating, Gordon thought. He hated the word, hated it more than anything. He briefly wondered if this was how Barbara felt when she claimed he cheated on her so often with Gotham City.
This must be what disappointment and heartbreak feels like.
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