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Lost Holidays
Chapter Seventeen
written by destinyawakened
Saturday, March 14 – Three Days before St. Patrick's Day
Four days had passed, though it felt like months, maybe even years to Gordon. He wanted so much to be angry with Bruce, to call and tell him off, to get the feelings of irrationality off his chest and out into the open. Except being angry just didn't feel right, not when Bruce was obviously not mentally well, or even stable for that matter. He had seen it coming for months, but it was just recently that Bruce had broken, showing that he really didn't have a lot of control over his own emotions, lost as he was in his own delusional dreams. Gordon wasn't sure exactly what was going on in the playboy's head, but it had been explained to him vaguely, and he thought he got the general idea.
Wednesday morning Gordon had the chance to sit down in the interrogation room Selina Kyle, her lawyer, and Gotham's newest DA. She ended up being more cooperative than he had thought she would be. Her lawyer had tried to keep her quiet, but Selina, being a police officer, knew that if she gave Gordon the answers he wanted, she might get a lighter sentence later on from the judge. It would definitely help her case, but it wouldn't keep her out of prison all together. At least she wouldn't be going to Arkham – she wasn't that kind of criminal.
Selina wouldn't give out the true identity of Holiday, which was fine; they'd catch him for sure come Saint Patrick's Day anyway. She did tell them about Doctor Thomas Elliot, who still had his hands deep inside Arkham, pulling the strings of one particular doctor there, bribing him with money and scaring him with threats. Gordon didn't really need to ask which doctor – he already knew it – but hearing it from Selina's mouth made it all the more real: Doctor Mentz, Bruce's psychiatrist. It explained everything perfectly, right down to the drugs being given to the billionaire and the change in attitude they were causing. Gordon asked if she knew anything else about Elliot's plans, the answer being an obvious no, but she did mention he had come to her asking for Holiday's help with the “getting rid” of Gordon. It seemed that Gordon was on Holiday's list anyway, and he was all too happy to oblige, no questions asked.
Gordon had wanted to ask Selina about her budding relationship with Batman, but given the situation and the circumstances, he didn't find it appropriate, no matter how tempting. He let Stephen's finish processing her paperwork, while Gordon left to have his meeting with the mayor concerning the situation at hand – most of all that of Bruce who was going to become a liability if they didn't do something about his sessions at Arkham, and the drugs he was being administered. It would be easier to convince the mayor now that a new judge had been appointed to Bruce's case. Gordon had called ahead of time to be sure the judge could be there at the same time he was so the conversation didn't have to be repeated.
After two hours of arguing, Gordon was able to get communicate to the mayor and the judge exactly the kind of trouble Bruce was in, not to mention the chaos that would ensue in Gotham if Bruce continued the drugs he was on. The judge tried to argue that Bruce was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder and needed the medication, but Gordon threw it back at him, explaining exactly what Selina had told him earlier. The mayor called for a warrant for Arkham, to bring in Doctor Mentz and all his case files, including Bruce's, and samples of anything they were giving him.
Gordon lead the crew down there, seizing control of everything the doctor had worked on in the last year, as well as taking in the doctor himself. Doctor Mentz – a slightly bigger man than Gordon – sat at the interrogation room table, hands cuffed and laying limp in his lap. Gordon stood at the other side of the table and waited for the confession that was clearly written on the doctor's face. They had given Mentz time with his lawyer to discuss the situation. The lawyer said they had a confession and was willing to work with the GCPD as much as possible. Another one of those lighter sentencing deals the Judge would agree to for the doctor's cooperation.
“Elliot,” the doctor mumbled. He was looking at the table, his eyes never meeting Gordon's as the commissioner glared harder at the top of the balding man's head. “Thomas Elliot got to me back in early November. He gave me fifty thousand dollars to diagnose and treat Bruce Wayne with Dissociative Identity Disorder.” Gordon knew the last part, Bruce had told him months ago about it, and even then Gordon thought the idea of it was laughable.
Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose just under his glasses. “Fifty thousand dollars hardly seems worth the jail time this is going to amount to, Doctor Mentz.”
“I needed the money. I had loan sharks at my back for months.” Mentz paused, looking up at Gordon with extremely scared eyes; there was some truth behind them. “I'm not proud of doing it. I wish I hadn't. I know Mister Wayne isn't crazy. He's doing a lot of good for this city –”
The commissioner placed a hand down on the table in front of the doctor. “That information doesn't leave this room!” The last thing Gordon needed was some half-twit doctor letting vital information leak out. The other man seemed to get the idea, but Gordon was sure the doctor never intended to tell anyone who didn't already know. On to something else, Jim. “You mentioned that you treated Mister Wayne, what drugs did you?”
Mentz fidgeted. “I, uh, I don't know.”
“You don't know?” Gordon leaned over the table, a scowl clearly present under his mustache. He could feel the heat rising up the back of his neck, a rising anger from days before with Selina. How could Mentz not know what he was giving a patient?
“Elliot just gave it to me. It wasn't labeled or anything. He just told me the side effects so I would know if it was working on Mister Wayne or not.” Mentz's voice began to crack and Gordon could sweat begin to drip down the man's large face. Gordon was not pleased and he was starting to see where this was going and everything about Bruce's behavior was going to sudden fit together.
“And just what are the side effects?” Gordon gritted his teeth and tried his hardest to keep his tone as calm as possible. He was thinking about the past five months, Bruce's sudden behavior and mood-swings. Gordon wished he'd been able to convince the mayor months ago to stop the treatments.
“Well, the basics were that it would make the patient, Mister Wayne, feel as though the rest of the world was against him. Situation would become different, but to him they would be the same, as if nothing has changed. Actions he normally wouldn't consider would suddenly seem worth the effort, even if that actions was against his better judgment. Long term the drug could destroy his mind. But Mister Wayne hasn't been exposed to it nearly long enough to have that side effect.”
“So, it's a mind control drug?” Pieces fitting together, everything making sense. Gordon was not at all happy, he honestly couldn't see how Bruce could have been so stupid not to see this. Maybe he couldn't? Yes.
“I told you, Commissioner, I don't know. I can only assume.”
“What will happen if Mister Wayne suddenly stops taking this drug?” Gordon sat down in the chair across from Mentz. He was done being angry, done trying to get information that was obviously not there. Now he was concerned for Bruce.
“He'll start to withdrawal. His body has become dependent on it and it's only going to get worse before it gets better. Mister Wayne is going to need professional help if he wants to get through it without complications.” Of course, without complications. And just how did Gordon plan to explain this to Bruce?
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All Gordon could think about was how very lost Bruce must have felt, and that there was nothing he could do about it but wait. There were many questions forming in his mind. How long would it take Bruce to clear his head? How long until he was back to being himself? Would he be able to wait? The last question wasn't hard to answer; of course he would wait, what else did he have going on? And Bruce was definitely worth waiting for. The hardest part would be sticking by him through the lows as the drug wore off. Gordon hoped Alfred was willing to help him. After all, he was sure the butler had been through similar situation with Bruce when he was teen (just maybe not as bad).
It had been four days since he'd even heard from Bruce. Alfred had called Gordon the day before, Friday, to tell him that Bruce was going off about how his sessions at Arkham had been canceled, and how he needed to get his medication. Alfred mentioned that Bruce was a bit moodier than usual, angrier too, and that he was taking it out on people and objects around him. Gordon was not looking forward to the meeting tonight, possibly the last one before Tuesday, Saint Patrick's Day. He had a feeling Bruce was going to be very angry with him, especially if he found out Gordon was the one who had put an end to the sessions and the drug. Gordon began to wonder if it was really worth waiting for Bruce to come around, knowing all the pain, abuse and turmoil he'd be putting himself through just to see Bruce back to normal again.
Yes. The answer was simply yes. Somehow, even through the pain and confusion of everything around them, Gordon knew he couldn't live without Bruce, even after the situation with Selina. It would be difficult to get through to Bruce now, but later on, maybe months from now, things might be better. Maybe. He hoped, anyway.
Gordon sighed, throwing the butt of his cigarette on the ground, staring at Stephens, who was taking another long drag of his, and giving him a nod. They had been out on the roof for almost an hour waiting for Batman to show, and it was beginning to be obvious to Gordon that he wasn't going to come at all. On most occasions, he'd be surprised, but given the past week, he wasn't at all.
“Wanna turn on the signal, see if he comes?” Stephens asked, blowing out a steam of smoke, dropping his finished cigarette and smashing the end with his shoe. Gordon shook his head; what would be the point? He wasn't going to come. He could phone Bruce, but at the risk of being called a bunch of colorful words, he thought better of it.
“No. I'll catch up with him later on,” he said, shaking his head. He placed his hands in his pockets, running his fingers over the homing device Bruce had give him over a month ago; he was tempted to push the button. But he wasn't sure he was willing to risk having Bruce be mad at him when nothing was wrong.
“Can we even trust that he's right about the mayor being targeted next?” Suspicion was evident in Stephens' voice, and Gordon couldn't blame him; he was a little skeptical of it himself. But what other leads did they have? Selina wasn't talking, Doctor Mentz didn't know anything, and Holiday sure wasn't leaving any real clues to lead to the next murder.
“What other choices do we have? I haven't found any evidence to lead us in another direction. I don't think he would steer us wrong. His judgment might be a little clouded, but I doubt he'd lead us astray. His love for Gotham is still the same.” Or so Gordon hoped. He'd hate to be wrong, but he had faith that deep inside Bruce's foggy mind he still had a sense of what needed to be done. It was all a guessing game now, hopefully one Gordon was winning.
Stephens gave a hopeful nod. “Let's hope so. We really don't need it to be one of us again. Which is likely, Jim. Holiday didn't exactly get what he wanted out of you.”
Gordon glared at the other man; he was very aware of this, and had very much been hoping he'd just be forgotten about. “I know that. Right now, I can't think like that, though. What if its not one of us and it is the mayor? His safety is a lot more important. It is what we're here for.”
Stephens only shrugged. Gordon could tell he was worried, maybe not just for Gordon but for himself as well; he had been on the list of possibilities for Valentine's Day, after all. Gordon shook his head. He knew Stephens wasn't going to be targeted, he'd done nothing to attract Holiday's attention. If anything it would be Gordon again, but it was far from likely, as he had the feeling that Holiday moved on quickly. However, with Elliot still on the loose, he had to worry about him interfering, which could lead to something happening to himself. But Elliot tended to keep a low profile; maybe they wouldn't hear from him for a bit. Hopefully.
“Let's just keep a close watch on the mayor on Tuesday. Keep the security force near, SWAT even closer and hope for the best.” Gordon sighed, walking towards the door leading down to the lower level. Stephens walked beside him, opening the door for him, letting him pass first.
“Hope to God your boy decides to show,” the other man muttered, following Gordon down the stairs and letting the door swing shut behind him.
“We've been doing this since long before he came along. We don't need him.” Gordon might have been a little bitter. He knew that Batman would likely not show up, but if he had it would have been a welcome surprise. They stopped at the second floor,Stephen's turned to him before heading down to the main floor, fixing Gordon with an observant gaze and clasping a hand on his shoulder.
“We might not. But you do.” Stephens walked down the stairs, not saying another word. Gordon could have said a lot of things to him, but kept them to himself, waiting until the other man was out of sight completely before walking down to his office.
He opened the door, and a cool breeze hit him in face; the window on the opposite side of the room was opened. Obviously Batman wasn't into covering his tracks. The room was dark aside from the street lamp outside, which cast a dim glow in the room, creating more shadows. Gordon knew he could just turn a light on, but didn't find he needed them to know that Batman was hiding there, somewhere in the shadows.
“We waited over an hour for you. A phone call or something would have been nice if you couldn't make it.” He didn't let his voice show emotion one way or another; he didn't want to come off sounding accusing or angry, since he was neither of those things, even though he knew he should be. He waited for movement in the corner, Batman stepped forward, to turn the light on.
“What I have to say doesn't involve, Stephens,” Batman growled, moving forward a few steps, his stance strong, squared – an obvious attempt to get Gordon to stand down, to intimidate him. “You're poking around in business you don't belong in, Gordon. My business. My life. You took away the one thing that I thought was finally helping me.”
Gordon put his hands up in defense. “Whoa, whoa. Bruce, stop. Those sessions have not been helping you. The medication is polluting your mind. I'm only trying to help you.”
“Help me? You think you know what's best for me, Gordon? I feel like I'm losing control without the medication. I need it. And you are going to fix it.” Batman grabbed Gordon by the shoulder tightly, glaring into his eyes, a fire so angry Gordon wanted to look away, not see the hate that was residing there. He never thought he'd have to see that in Bruce's eyes. He knocked Batman's hands away, giving him a push to keep him at bay.
“There is nothing to fix. You've become dependent on something you don't even need. I can help you get through the withdrawal though, Bruce. Everyone wants to help you. It won't be easy –” Gordon kept his voice low and even; he wanted Bruce to know that he wasn't attacking him. But the other man didn't seem to see it that way; his eyes kept showing more and more hate at each word that Gordon said. Gordon knew it had to get worse before it got better; he hoped this was the worse.
“No. I don't need your help. There is nothing to help! I'm fine!” Batman stepped back, eyeing Gordon and shaking his head, the best he could in the cowl. “You're ruining everything, Gordon. Stay out of my life.”
Gordon watched as the man slipped out the window again, wanting, once more, to go after him. He hoped to God Bruce started showing some improvement, otherwise he knew that in order to keep the city from the hands of someone so out of control they would have to lock Bruce in Arkham for a bit, keep him under control. Well, maybe Arkham was a bad idea with Elliot still on the lose, but there were other hospitals, places Bruce could go without the tabloids finding out. Gordon sighed, bringing his fists to his eyes and rubbing them roughly, sleep and sadness pulling at them; he had a feeling he was not going to see Bruce for quite a while.
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