One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen
Lost Holidays
Chapter Eight
written by destinyawakened
Monday, January 5 – Jim's Birthday??
The year before, Gordon had allowed everyone at City Hall to throw him a huge fiftieth birthday party, with a huge cake, a buffet, and lots of people he hardly knew. He then also allowed everyone at MCU to throw him a party – a little more tame with a small cake, delivered pizza, and just the officers he was closest to. He was not, however, going to allow that this year; fifty-one years old was not an age of celebration, but an age where Gordon thought one should just stop counting. He had asked Stephens, who was in charge of the party the year before, to keep it to himself and not remind the whole office, especially Bruce Wayne. Stephens, of course, found this just the slightest bit suspicious.
“Why can't I tell Wayne?” he had asked, and Gordon's only response was to stare the man down with death written in his eyes and a scowl on his lips. He was sure the other man got the hint, but it didn't stop him from speculating as to the relationship between Gordon and Wayne. Good thing Gordon trusted Stephens with his own life.
This year Gordon didn't want to think about it; he had other important issues to deal with, things that made birthdays seem too juvenile. So far, he had three murders, three different holidays, and one killer. The only thing relating the victims was their employment in the same court system, but nothing else. Judge Hampton was the judge in charge of Bruce's case, which made it even more of an issue. The Mayor either had to find another judge they could trust with the case, or make the case public, which Gordon knew he didn't want to do; Garcia had learned that the help of the vigilante was more than just a little useful – it was downright needed. Gordon knew he could go on doing his job without Batman, but it would definitely put a damper on a lot of things, while making others just a little harder to achieve. Batman could do things the rest of the GCPD could not do, and had the resources no one else did. Garcia knew they needed Batman. Gordon was confident they would find another judge, that his wasn't an issue. Not yet, anyway.
Bruce had taken Selina on a few dates that he had told Gordon about, but so far she hadn't offered any other information about her background or personal life that Gordon or Bruce hadn't already known. Either she really was just that perfect, or she was very, very good at keeping it hidden. Gordon wanted to believe the first, but every time he looked at her his gut twitched towards the latter. After years of being a cop, he'd learned to trust his instincts, but this time he wasn't sure what those instincts were trying to tell him. Was Selina just your regular good cop with a bad child hood, or a corrupt cop hiding behind the good cop facade? Maybe it was neither; maybe he was completely wrong and losing his touch. Selina Kyle made Gordon second-guess himself, a sign that something wasn't right.
The rumors about Alberto Falcone had started to die down after the New Year, but there were still whispers that he was wandering around town, going to Arkham to see his father, joining the socialite parties at the high end fund-raisers, where he gave a substantial amount of money to each cause. This brought Gordon's attention back to the man, as he was previously unaware that Alberto had that kind of money. Yes, the Falcones had had money at one point, but when Maroni had taken over as head of the mob family and lost their whole savings in the Joker incident, Gordon thought there was nothing left. Alberto had been living in Italy for quite a few years,though; who knows what stocks or saving accounts had been set up for the young man by his father before he was locked away in Arkham? The situation was becoming even more curious, and a lot more suspicious.
And on top of everything going on in his professional life, Gordon also had those issues with Bruce Wayne. Not that there had been issues since their talk, but he was growing more and more worried for the younger man. Bruce had started complaining of headaches just a few days before, saying it felt something like a migraine, but that he'd be fine. Then he complained of dizzy spells, blamed it on not enough water, said he was dehydrating in the Batsuit, Gordon wasn't going to buy into either of those. Both symptoms were followed by an outburst of anger on Bruce's part, accompanied by screaming, and within second he was back to normal, acting as if nothing every happened. Gordon tried to ask him about it later, but Bruce denied the incident had happened all-together, leaving Gordon even more concerned. Somehow, he needed to figure out who at Arkham was giving Bruce treatment and if possible bring a stop it. He hoped that when they found a new judge for Bruce's case the issue could be addressed and the Arkham sessions dropped.
Then there was the phone call from his kids, which brightened his day. They wanted to wish him a happy birthday, saying they sent him something in the mail, and that they would have liked to have seen him, but their mother wouldn't allow it with the recent news in Gotham reaching her ears. Jimmy asked how Batman was and if they had caught any new bad guys yet; Gordon had to tell him no, at least not yet. Jimmy wasn't disappointed though; he knew Batman would catch someone soon, or so he said. Then Barbara took the phone, wished him a very happy birthday and attempted to talk to Gordon about Bruce, poking around the subject, asking if Gordon was happy, how often did he stay over at the playboy's house... Soon Gordon just cut her short, telling her he had an emergency meeting. He knew she could sense the lie, but it was better than being interrogated.
The mayor had also called, wishing Gordon the happiest of birthdays along-side a stern warning that he had better be investigating the murder cases a little deeper, that he didn't want to hear of any more killings. Gordon wished it were that easy, but the clues were not connecting the way he wanted them to. He merely told Garcia that they were working around the clock to prevent the next murder. Gordon couldn't think of the next holiday the murderer might use; there was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, but that was hardly a holiday that received a lot of attention, and Gordon was sure the attention was half the reason behind the murders. That left Valentine's Day, which was over a month away. This worked out perfectly, giving them enough time to work through the case more thoroughly. The next victim was the biggest issue, if they could predict who it was, they could prevent it from happening at all. Gordon was still trying to figure out how the victims were related, aside from working in the justice system; there had to be something else, something that connected them...
“Gordon,” Stephens said from behind him. Gordon turned half way, hands behind his back, staring out the large window in the meeting room at MCU. “Mr. Wayne is on his way in, and before you get mad, I didn't say anything to him about today.”
Gordon turned all the way around, Stephens turning tail quickly, leaving the doorway empty. Bruce's broad frame came into view just seconds later, a smile plastered on his face. He was wearing a gray pinstriped suit, his hair combed neatly. Gordon sighed. He hoped beyond anything else that Bruce Wayne had not figured out it was his birthday; otherwise it was due to be very, very embarrassing. Bruce walked into the room, hands in his pockets. Gordon spoke first, before Bruce could say anything.
“How was your session this morning?” he asked, stepping away form the window, watching Bruce shut the door behind him.
“Same as usual,” Bruce replied. “Are you busy?”
Gordon eyed him carefully.“Not entirely, I was just about to go start work on --” But Bruce's eyes lit up with excitement, grabbing hold of Gordon's arm before he could finish, pulling the commissioners coat off the back of a chair and handing it to him.
“Great. Put this on.”
“Why? Where are we going?” Gordon slid his jacket over his shoulders. Bruce was pushing him out the door.
“You'll see,” Bruce said, guiding Gordon down the halls to the front doors. They passed Stephens on the way, who looked as if he were trying his hardest to suppress a laugh; Gordon glowered at him, hoping he really didn't have anything to do with this.
Gordon was expecting Bruce to have one of his many expensive cars waiting out front, but to his surprise there was a long, black stretch limo parked at the curb. Oh, he had a very, very bad feeling about this – very bad indeed. Bruce gave him a very pleased look, but Gordon shook his head as Alfred stepped out of the passenger's front door, opening the back door for Gordon and Bruce. The billionaire gave him a little push inside, sliding in behind him. Gordon sat next to the opposite door, thinking about his escape plan. Bruce eyed him cautiously before flicking the door lock.
“If you keep attempting to escape, I'm going to start taking it personally,” Bruce said, leaning up against the other door, facing Gordon, who narrowed his eyes on the younger man. So far Bruce hadn't made mention of his birthday, but Gordon was starting to get the feeling that he knew, but wasn't yet willing to admit to it.
“I have a lot of things that need to be done today, Bruce.” Gordon folded his arms over his chest, jolting forward a little when the limousine pulled away from the curb. Well, he was stuck now, at least until they stopped again.
“Relax” Bruce insisted. He pushed a button on his door for the tinted window divider, leaving him and Gordon to talk privately. He scooted next to Gordon, placing a hand on his thigh, leaning into him. Gordon felt Bruce's lips touch his softly, a hand on the side of his face, a gentle caress It had been a few days since they'd had even a moment to themselves, time to relax and to enjoy teach others' company. Gordon parted his mouth, working his lips against Bruce's feverishly, hands now tangled in his hair, pulling him in deeper. It wasn't as long as he had hoped the kiss would be, but it was peaceful and reassuring.
“Don't pretend you don't know,” Gordon said breathlessly, hand on Bruce's shoulder, fingers gripping the smooth cotton blend of his shirt. Bruce smirked, fixing Gordon's glasses, which had gone lopsided on his nose from their faces being pressed together.
“I'm not admitting to knowing or not knowing anything. Not yet,” Bruce said hoarsely. It was almost a growl but not quite as deep, more predatory than anything else. Bruce didn't have to say it, it was obvious to Gordon just by his answer that he already knew. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the lavish surprise Bruce was most likely taking him to. It couldn't be good, not when it involved Bruce Wayne.
They had driven for maybe twenty minutes when the limousine stopped. Bruce unlocked the doors, sliding out one side while Gordon opened his door to slide out his side. A very tall skyscraper stood gallantly in front of them: Wayne Enterprises. This really can't be good, Gordon thought wearily. Bruce patted him on the shoulder, leading him up the steps, with a small smile on his face. A man at the top of the stairs opened the door for them, leading them across a threshold to a very wide lobby, a reception desk to the right. Bruce approached it, smiling softly at the young blond thing behind the counter.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne,” she cooed from her chair, not really looking up to know who it was that had entered the lobby.
“Good afternoon, Sheryl,” Bruce nodded, his smile even bigger now. He started across the hall, motioning for Gordon to follow him. “You're really going to enjoy this, Jim. I promise.”
Gordon followed him after a moment of hesitation. “So help me, Wayne --” he started, but he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, his blood beginning to boil just thinking about a party. Bruce laughed, herding him into the elevator and hitting the button before he could even think about jumping back out.
“You have got to lighten up, Jim. I'm not out to make your life miserable,” Bruce insisted. Gordon stared at him blankly, a little unsure as how to react or what to say to that statement. He hadn't actually thought that Bruce was out to make his life miserable, just maybe that he never thought that other people might not like the same things he did. Now, he was curious as to just what Bruce had planned.
The elevator slid to a stop, the doors opening up to a flourescently lit room, a couple of computer stations, filing cabinets, and tons of what Gordon assumed were prototype technologies that Wayne Enterprises was working on. Bruce walked deeper into the room, tugging gently on Gordon's sleeve. A man, dark skinned and wearing a fairly nice suit with a bow tie, stood by a door to the right, greeting Bruce with an open smile and a brief handshake.
“Mr. Wayne. Glad you made it.” The manturned to Gordon with the same open, welcoming smile. “Commissioner Gordon, it's a pleasure.”
“Jim, this is Lucius Fox. Wayne Enterprises CEO,” Bruce said by way of introduction, a very smug smile spread across his face.
“Among other things, as well,” Fox said, turning around and opening the door behind him. He turned his head back to Gordon while Bruce walked through the door. “You're really going to like this.”
Gordon frowned, curious now as to what it was these two were up to – and so help them both it had better not be a party. If he walked in there and saw anyone other than the three of them he was going to scream. Fox stood out of the way to let him enter the next room, which was brightly lit, almost pure white. In the middle of the room was an armored vehicle that Gordon recognized as the Tumbler, except it looked a little different, a little sleeker. Gordon looked at Bruce, who shrugged.
“It's hardly finished yet, and we're still working out a few modification.” Bruce walked over to the vehicle, pressing a button on a key chain he took from his pocket. Where Gordon expected the top of the car to open up, the side door flipped up instead, an improvement, it seemed. “I knew you wouldn't accept anything I bought you for your birthday. So I thought maybe you'd like test out the new “batmobile”, as Alfred is calling it.” He rolled his eyes a little at the word.
Gordon wanted to laugh, but was a little taken aback by the offer. He would be lying if he said he wasn't more than just a little excited about trying it out. “I, well, that is...” Bruce motioned him over to the vehicle. He stumbled over, mouth agape, staring, wanting so badly to touch it. He ducked under the door and slid into the driver's side, looking at all the buttons and gadgets. Bruce shut the door on him, a second later appearing on the passenger side, shutting his door as well.
“Where are the keys?” Gordon asked, palm out, waiting. Bruce chuckled, pushing a button on what looked like it could be the dashboard. The car roared to life, and Gordon felt every animal instinct light up inside him. Oh, this was definitely what he needed today, something to take his mind off of everything else he had to deal with, if even only for a few minutes. He put his foot over the gas, hands on the wheel, glancing over at Bruce.
The billionaire raised his eyebrows.“What are you waiting for?”
-------
Stepping out of the limousine at Bruce's penthouse a few hours later, Gordon felt more rejuvenated than he had in a long time. Sure, every muscle in his body ached from the hairpin turns he did on the test room floor with the Tumbler, and every bone creaked from being in one place for too long, but it was worth every minute, especially when Bruce suddenly grasped hold of the side of the door for dear life, white knuckles and all; Gordon was quite proud of that accomplishment, even if Bruce denied being at all scared.
The winter night air was cool on his face, refreshing. He stood just in front of the building, waiting for Bruce and Alfred to finish with the limo driver. Bruce came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the lobby. The doorman open the door, stepping aside to allow them entrance and tipping his hat to Bruce, who gave a little wave. Alfred strode up beside them, walking quickly past to the elevator, hitting the call button. The ride up was quiet, and Gordon found he didn't mind, as he was still reliving the feeling of the Tumbler under him, shaking his body, being in control of every movement it made; it made him feel alive.
Alfred held the elevator door open with his arm, allowing Bruce and Gordon to step through first. Gordon shrugged his coat off, about to throw it over the glass table sitting by the elevator when Alfred came up beside him, taking the coat, and putting it in the closet. Gordon muttered a thanks he was sure the butler didn't hear, making his way towards the living room. He plopped down on one of the black leather sofa's, feeling every ache melt away as he did. He put his feet up on the coffee table, well aware that if Alfred caught him doing this he would most likely get yelled at in the politest way possible.
Bruce walked into the room, now stripped of his suit, wearing a white undershirt, casual blue jeans, and his feet bare. Gordon watched him walk over to the fireplace and turn on the gas. Bruce pulled a remote from the mantle to dim the lights, an orange glow warming the room. Finally, he strolled over to the sofa, sitting down next to Gordon and placing his feet up on the coffee table next to his.
“You know, it's bad enough I'm going to get yelled at for this,” Gordon said, gesturing to the younger man's feet.
Bruce shrugged. “He'll yell at me before he does you.” He looked at Gordon's feet. “But, if you want to lessen the blow, you might take your shoes off.”
Gordon sat up, kicking off each shoe, then sitting back and putting his feet up again, “Better?”
Bruce shrugged. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Doesn't matter. We can go wherever,” Gordon grumbled. He figured Bruce already had dinner plans for him anyway and was just being nice by asking him.
“No, no. You're the birthday boy, Commissioner. We'll have whatever you want,” Bruce was smiling insistantly at.
Gordon was surprised; he hadn't expected that at all. “Do we have to go out?”
“Does it look like I'm dressed to go out?” Bruce asked, gesturing at his current outfit. “I'd prefer to stay in, if that's okay with you.”
“Oh, that's perfect,” Gordon said. Delivery was what he was used to these days, not having the time to cook – not that he could. “Chinese.”
“You eat Chinese almost every night,” Bruce stated, trying to keep his face straight. He looked as if he wanted to laugh at how predictable the older man was.
“So? I like it. It's what I want. It's my birthday,” Gordon retorted, a little annoyed, but keeping a smile on his face. Bruce nodded, sitting up from the couch, pulling his cell phone from his pocket to make the call. “Hey, you didn't ask what I wanted!” Gordon called after him.
Bruce poked his head back into the room. “We eat at this place at least once a week and you order the same thing each time. I think I know what you want by now.” Gordon had opened his mouth to protest, then narrowed his eyes at Bruce, giving him a grumpy grin.
“Fine. Just make sure you get extra egg rolls this time. Alfred eats them all.”
-----
Gordon ate until he couldn't shove another bite into his mouth without feeling it start to come back up on him. Bruce had eaten very little, but Gordon couldn't recall a time he ever saw the other man eat more than a couple bites of anything. He tossed the chopsticks on the coffee table in defeat, loosening his tie. He settled back into the sofa, wishing he was at home so he could undo the top button of his pants and not look like such a slob. He really did eat way too much.
“Master Wayne, if you don't need me, sir, I'll be leaving for the night and returning in the morning.” Alfred stated, standing properly at the side of the sofa and looking down at them.
Bruce waved him off, “Yes, Alfred, that's fine.” The butler nodded, leaving for the elevator.
“He doesn't usually leave,” Gordon said, suspiciously.
“We've had some security issues at the manor, the system is on the fritz. We're having some people by tonight to fix it. He'll be back in the morning,” Bruce explained. Gordon wanted to laugh; of course Alfred would be back in the morning, Bruce couldn't function without his coffee, and heaven forbid he learn to make it himself. He wondered what the billionaire would do when Alfred finally called it quits.
“So,” Bruce started after a moment of silence between them, “how old are you now? Sixty?”
“Your luck is running very thin, Mr. Wayne,” Gordon said, narrowing his eyes on him. He was about to say more, but Bruce had already scooted over to him and started to remove his tie.
“Really? I think my luck is about to get even better,” Bruce whispered softly into his ear, removing the tie completely.
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen