One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve| Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen
Lost Holidays
Chapter Sixteen
written by destinyawakened
Tuesday, March 10 – continued
It was the feeling of being completely lost, frozen in the moment of despair, unable to feel any emotion aside from the pain that was absurdly present. Jim Gordon felt it all, a stabbing knife to his heart, like the sharpest icicle digging deeper with each step he took. The drive home had been hard; far harder than he thought it might have been. The silent hum of the radio, the lack of conversation from the passenger seat next to him, the rain that started half way home. All just one big realization that things were slipping away from him, faster and faster. What had happened? Everything seemed to have happened so quickly, but now he realized it was so gradual that he should have seen it coming.
Distance, mood swings, an all-around change the in attitude of Bruce Wayne should have been a clue. Well, it had been, but Gordon always dismissed it, knowing that Bruce sometimes went through spells of moodiness that often passed with time, usually a couple of days. There was definitely something wrong, something very, very amiss with the billionaire, and Gordon couldn't quite place his finger on it. There was an obvious attraction between Bruce and Selina Kyle; the kiss had shown Gordon that much. But exactly what had prompted this, Gordon couldn't be sure. He thought that he and Bruce had a relationship that was open enough to talk about these things, to bring up anything that would hinder their feelings for each other. Usually it worked, usually they could talk about anything, but the last three weeks had been hard. Bruce had started to become distant, and though Gordon would have preferred to ignore that it was happening, a part of him was very, very aware of it.
And yet, he couldn't help but feel as if he had been completely blindsided. He didn't want to even look at another human being. It was close to eight in the evening; most of the tenants in his apartment building were home, some likely walking through the halls, going out to dinner, or even taking their dogs out. Gordon didn't want to see the., In fact, he dreaded the moment he would have to set foot into the building and see each of their treacherous faces, staring at him accusingly, as if to say “I told you so” over and over again. He wanted to turn back to his car, hop in, and drive for days, not looking back – just leave Gotham, and his memories, behind him. How had he allowed himself to become so wrapped up in the mess that was Bruce Wayne?
He knew. It wasn't just a blind infatuation that lead him into the life of the playboy; it was the pure knowledge that he knew, or thought he knew, the younger man inside and out, like he knew himself. He thought he knew everything that Bruce stood for – as Batman, as the billionaire who pretended not to care, but actually cared more than he would ever admit. Gordon knew Bruce, knew him better than he probably knew himself. Something had gone terribly wrong in the last few months, something that Gordon had no control of, and he couldn't be sure if Bruce did or not. Bruce was not the same person who had presented himself that late Sunday afternoon over six months ago. That Bruce had not been present for nearly a month now, and Gordon desperately wondered what had happened to him.
But it didn't change the fact that Bruce was having an affair, or at least the start of one,with Selina. What was Gordon to do? He could wait for the man to come to him, ignore him until he came asking questions; or he could could be direct and honest with Bruce, admit to spying on Selina, seeing them kiss, and then demand an explanation. Honestly, Gordon didn't want to do either. What he wanted was for the whole thing to just go away, as if it never happened. He placed one foot on the first step leading up to the apartment building, sighing. Wishing was going to get him no where, and possibly lead him to denial all together. No, he would sleep on it and then in the morning send Bruce a message for a meet up, somewhere and get the situation out into the open.
He took the steps slowly, watching his feet touch every step, trying to let the reality of the last thirty minutes sink in. But it was still too fresh, too surreal, almost a dream. Had it just been a dream? He couldn't remember the event vividly; his mind was fogged, maybe it was... No, no. That was real, the pain he felt down to his core was more real than any other feeling he could possibly have felt right then. He trusted Bruce, trusted him with everything,in a way he thought he would never trust anyone again. He had been so sure about Bruce, so sure he wouldn't reach in, take his heart and stomp on it. He had been positive about it.
Well, he'd been wrong before.
He reached the door, pulling it open, slipping through into the hall. He should check his mail, but even one more thing to carry would make it hard to drag himself up stairs. As it was he felt like cement had been poured into his shoes. He steered clear of the mailboxes, making his way to the stairs to the second floor. The climb was slow, awkward feeling, lonely. He reached his apartment, grabbing the doorknob, ready to unlock it, but the door was slightly ajar. He furrowed his eyebrows, pushing the door open just a little more, reaching under his left arm to his shoulder holster, pulling his gun. He kicked the door further in and carefully slipped into the room, gun pointed in front of him.
The light in the kitchen was on, but from what he could tell nothing was moved, missing or stolen; everything was where he had left it. His first thought was that maybe he had left it on this morning, but it wouldn't explain why the door to his apartment was slightly opened. He walked down the hall, checking the bedroom, the bathroom, the closets; nothing. He walked back down the hall, and strolled past the living room, a shadow stirred by his arm chair in the corner. He initially thought it was Batman, but something in the back of his mind told him not to be so sure. He turned swiftly on his heels, only to find his gun pointed directly at the Catwoman, her eyes a blaze of green fury. He expected her to lash out, throw a punch, or something, but she just stood there in front of him, as if daring him to shoot her.
“Curious, do you plan to use that on me, or is it just for show?” she asked, stepping forward, the barrel now pressed firmly to the middle of her chest. Gordon eyed her carefully, pulling back the hammer, finger ready on the trigger. She smiled slyly, calling his bluff. Gordon wanted to say something about curiosity killing the cat, but from him the remark would seem ridiculous in any situation.
“Where's Holiday?” he asked instead, forcing the barrel further into her skin, hoping she would flinch, react, but she did neither of those things. Instead, she placed a hand on Gordon's arm, tracing circles into his skin lightly with her claws, not digging in, yet.
“That's what you want to know? Not, 'how did you get in here' or 'why are you here'?” She laughed, and Gordon almost thought he recognized the voice, but the click wasn't there. “Holiday only contacts me when he needs things. I don't keep track of him.”
Gordon kept his stance steady, his arm stiff, unfaltering. “What are you doing here? What do you want?” He'd play into her little game, maybe he could get some answers from her, even a clue or a lead would do.
“I'm here to make sure you don't get in the way,” she replied, digging her claws into his arm then. He wanted to cry out, but held back. He wasn't a killer, but he sure as hell didn't mind slugging a woman if she deserved it. He knocked her hand away from his arm with his elbow, throwing her off guard, taking that split second to throw a punch with his free hand across her face, watching her stagger, and right before she could regain her stance, he brought the hilt of his gun down on the back of her skull, knocking her unconscious. He watched her crumple to the floor in a heap. Obviously, she had miscalculated him this time.
He was tempted to removed her mask, to find out if his speculations were true, but doing it down at MCU would be better, where there would be a lot more people around, to know he wasn't just trying to frame her. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, dialing Stephens' number, hoping the other man was still at work. He'd hate having to ask dispatch to send a car down.
“Stephens,” said the man on the other line, sounding a little tired, but at least awake.
“Are you still at the unit?” Gordon asked quickly, phoned cradled int the crook of his neck as he removed his handcuffs from his pocket and clicked them in place around the Catwoman's wrists.
“Yeah. Just about to head out. What's going on?” Stephens sounded a little rushed. Gordon could hear the man shuffling through papers, probably trying to finish the last of them before sending them off to Gordon in the morning.
“I need you to grab a squad car and come to my apartment. I have a bit of a situation that needs transporting.”
--------
“You're not going to call him?” Stephens asked, as they both watched Catwoman through the glass wall of the interrogation room. She was cuffed, hands behind her back, seated in one of the hard metal chairs, still passed out. Gordon wanted to wait until she was awake to unmask her, to see the look on her face when he finally did what he had wanted to do since Valentine's Day. Not that he was one for revenge, but he was one for justice.
“No,” he said to the other man. He didn't see a reason to call Batman back from his patrols; he didn't see a use in calling Bruce in for something that was under Gordon's complete control. He didn't need Bruce there every step of the way. He'd been doing this far longer than Bruce had, since before the billionaire had even thought about fighting crime.
“Okay then,” Stephens replied, a knowing yet curious look on his face. Gordon figured the man had already deduced that he and Bruce were 'dating', and had probably already guessed they were having a little trouble in their relationship lately; Gordon wasn't the only one noticing the difference in the playboy's attitude.
Catwoman stirred, raising her head, pulling on her arms, and squinting at the light shining above her head. She groaned as she looked. At first she seemed confused, a little lost; but then a snarl spread slowly across her lips, as she pulled desperately on the cuffs, growling. She brought her eyes up to the one way mirror, knowing full well that Gordon was behind it, her gaze narrowing angrily. Stephens turned to him, one hand on his shoulder.
“You want the honors? Or shall I?” he asked. Suddenly, Gordon didn't really want to face the woman behind the mask, afraid it was exactly the person he assumed it was; but on the other hand he wanted to see the look on her face when he slipped the mask off her, knowing that he had defeated her, that he hadn't let her get to him. He folded his arms over his chest, considering it. No, he didn't want to be near her; seeing her face from here would be enough. He couldn't be sure how he'd react off hand.
“You do it. Then book her.” Stephens squeezed Gordon's shoulder, a gesture perhaps of comfort – support. Stephens walked out the door, sliding into the interrogation room seconds later. She glared at him as he walked over to her, standing over her, hands folded in front of him, staring down at her. Gordon watched the man sigh heavily.
“You already know what I'm going to do,” Stephens said to the woman. Gordon watched her body relax, knowing full well that she had been outsmarted this time; there was no way out of the situation now. Stephens walked around her, obviously searching for the seam on the mask – there had to be a spot where it connected to the rest of the suit. Gordon had seen a zipper at the back earlier; he watched Stephens find it, unzipping it half way up her head, a long black braid falling out. Stephens reached up and pulled the mask back the rest of the way, revealing the high cheek bones, and heart-shaped face of Selina Kyle. Gordon was not surprised, and Stephens apparently wasn't either. He kept his calm, nodding his head in a way that suggested he had already known, or at least suspected.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant. You caught me,” she said, voice sensuous and low. Her eyes were boring into him, cold and even. Gordon shook his head; he had always known something was wrong about her, something just off. She made an impression that was too good to be true, and he had tried to warn people, tried to convince the mayor on numerous occasions to double check her, but no one listened. And Bruce, did he know? Had he figured it out? Just the thought of it made his skin crawl more. Bruce kissing the enemy, someone who had helped in the attempt to kill him less than a month ago. The thought made Gordon even angrier – not with Selina, but with Bruce. He was angry with Selina for the deception, he was angry with Bruce for straight up cheating and throwing Gordon's trust right out the window. Everything they had worked so hard to build was crumbling around him, and he felt almost hopeless.
Stephens motioned for a couple of the officers outside the door, walking behind Selina and removing the cuffs while the two officers held her arms so she couldn't move. They pulled her to her feet, putting the cuffs back on, walking her from the interrogation room. They'd book her, hold her here over night, and then in the morning he would get the answers he wanted from her. Gordon went to leave the room and found Batman standing in front of him, eyes narrowed.
“You didn't call me,” he growled, eying Gordon suspiciously. Gordon pushed past him, opening the door leading into the hall back down to the main part of MCU. Batman followed after him, keeping up.
“You don't need to be notified every time we catch a criminal,” Gordon said, not looking towards the man. He didn't want to meet the eyes that were burning into his head. “It was pretty quick, unexpected.”
“How?” Batman asked. Gordon hated it when he used one word questions and answers.
“She broke into my apartment. She was waiting for me,” Gordon explained, turning the corner to the stairs and taking them two at time, aware people were looking at them; it wasn't everyday that Batman was seen trailing Gordon; it was often the other way around, if Batman was to be seen at all.
“She isn't a criminal,” Batman said as they reached the second floor, walking towards Gordon's office now. Gordon stopped in his tracks, turning around swiftly, Batman stopping just short of bumping into him. Gordon narrowed his eyes curiously on the vigilante.
“Are you delusional?” Gordon asked, getting up close enough to Batman to see directly into his eyes. Bruce's eyes were staring back, but the way he was looking at him was unlike any emotion Gordon had ever seen from him; his eyes seemed almost lost, yet very aware. “She helped in that attempt to kill me almost a month ago! She broke into my apartment to do who-knows-what. And you want to argue with me that she's not a criminal?”
“She doesn't know what she's doing, she's being controlled by --” Batman started, but Gordon held up a hand to silence him, shaking his head.
“Stop. Just stop. I don't want to hear the lies that she has been feeding you. She's deceptive, and knows how to be convincing. It's obviously worked on you.” Gordon sighed. “I'm not stupid, Bruce. I know about you two. I saw you on the roof earlier. She's really worked you over good, hasn't she?”
Bruce's eyes softened with a bit of a realization, but of what Gordon couldn't be sure. “You were spying on me?” His tone was accusing, and Gordon felt his hand ball into a fist, the sudden urge to just throw one across Bruce's jaw overwhelming. He breathed deeply, holding it back.
“Let's not go there. The fact is, I trusted you,” Gordon said, dropping his hands to his side and shaking his head sadly, still looking into Bruce's eyes, which started to harden in anger.
“You've been the one slipping away from me, Gordon. You've been avoiding me for weeks now. Not even giving me the time of day. How did you want me to react to that? Just sit there and be ignored by you?” Bruce asked. Gordon just stared at him, wondering what the hell was wrong with Bruce. He was talking nonsense; everything he had just described was exactly how Gordon himself felt about Bruce. He wasn't nearly as angry with him as he was confused, and most of all worried.
“Bruce... what are you talking about?” Gordon asked, reaching out to touch the part of the man's face that wasn't covered by the cowl. Bruce turned his face away to avoid the contact, stepping back.
“I think you're the one that's deceptive, Commissioner. You're making a huge mistake with Selina Kyle. You don't know her.” Bruce turned towards a window, opening it. “Don't call unless it's important.”
Gordon wanted to go after him, but something in the back of his head told him to stay put, not to break what's already broken any further. There was something off with Bruce, something very wrong, and yet he was so very fragile. Not only did Gordon have an interrogation to do in the morning, he'd have to schedule a meeting with the mayor, to figure out what needed to be done.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve| Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen