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Lost Holidays
Chapter One
written by destinyawakened
Wednesday, November 26th
Winter in Gotham City. The blaze of white snow gracing the ground for the first time was enlightening, beautiful, maybe even peaceful. But the peace rarely lasted; desperate families struggled to get by, crime rates skyrocketed, and the jails filled with those who couldn't afford to keep warm and dry. Gordon found it difficult to keep his head straight this time of year, let alone keep the paperwork down, and still find time for the other duties he had to fulfill. It was Gotham's curse in Gordon's love for her; he did what he had to do for the city he'd sworn to protect.
First snowfalls meant Christmas was right around the corner. Christmas... he thought. Christmas use to be the one time a year he had off work, where he could spend a moment out of the chaos to enjoy time with his family, forget about Gotham –usually she obliged for that one day. Well, that was until he became commissioner; now he was the first called in for any major crime. He hoped this year was quiet, but that was a fleeting wish.
Barbara had agreed to bring the kids down on Christmas day, so they could pretend to be a happy family again, exchange gifts and enjoy the moment of a peaceful winter day. Of course, being divorced made the “happy” family part difficult. At least Bruce would be there. The billionaire insisted on having Christmas at the manor since Gordon's new place was smaller than Bruce's walk-in closet. Gordon didn't argue; he knew the kids would enjoy running around the manor and destroying priceless valuables while Alfred chased after them in an attempt to get them to listen.
Gordon chuckled to himself at the thought; poor Alfred. He imagined that Alfred didn't mind children, that it gave him someone other than Bruce to take care of (not that Bruce couldn't take care of himself, but Alfred often did it anyway). Alfred had seemed a little lost since Gordon had started coming around more, looking as though he might be getting in the way and trying to busy himself with cleaning the same counters for the second – if not the third -- time. Gordon almost felt bad for the butler. Almost. After all, didn't he get along just fine those seven years Bruce had gone missing? What did he do then? He might ask him later. Hell, he might even find the means to ask Bruce about those seven years and exactly what he was doing during that time.
Gordon walked up the steps to his apartment building, the crunch of new snow under his shoes making him aware that he may need to buy new ones soon; the walk home had left his socks soaked and his toes numb. His car had died a few days earlier; he didn't mind though, he knew he could use the walk. The snow... well the snow was a surprise. He knew Bruce was going to give him hell when he found out about the car, but why bother a billionaire with petty little issues? He was getting it fixed anyway and he didn't need the charity he knew Bruce would offer.
He pushed open the door to the main hall way, stopped at the group of mailboxes, keyed the lock on his slot, pulled out his mail and headed up the two flights of stairs to his small, quaint apartment. He placed the mail on the table, pushed the button on his answering machine – something Bruce laughed at him for having; apparently if he had a cell phone he didn't need an answering machine. No messages; why did he have an answering machine? He hated when Bruce was right, but he would never admit it.
Gordon sifted through the mail, tossing junk mail into the trash bin next to him, holding the bills to the side, and stopping at a gold foil envelope with black embossed lettering on it. He didn't have to look at the return address to know who this was from: Bruce Wayne. He already knew it was a party invite, Bruce had told him about it a few days prior; so why was he getting the invite if he already knew about it? Well, that was a dumb thought actually, because he knew what the younger man would tell him if he was there now “This makes it official. You can't refuse to go or say you forgot”. Damn you Bruce Wayne.
He opened the envelope, took out the letter, and looked over the pristine white glossy paper. Christmas Eve party, which meant lots of people, lots of booze, lots of food and a really late night. He couldn't get out of this one, he'd already refused the Thanksgiving Day extravaganza Bruce threw two days ago and the masquerade party he threw in October (that was before he knew the truth about Bruce Wayne and Batman). He hoped Alfred would have a good bottle of scotch on hand to save him his sanity.
Gordon glanced over at the window, new snow flurries starting to fall again. He expected to be called back into the office before the night was out. He was right, of course, but to his surprise, it wasn't concerning a crime at all; Carmine Falcone's son had just returned to Gotham city to visit his father in Arkham. Time to call Bruce to help run a little interference...
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Thursday, November 27: Thanksgiving Day-
Thanksgiving Day was lonely for Gordon. First one without the kids, even though he had tried to convince Barbara to bring them over for dinner. She said Christmas was going to be quite enough time in Gotham and that the kids didn't want to be near that city any longer than they had to be. Gordon knew the kids never said that, it was all her talking, and it wasn't about the city, it was about him. Yes, she hated Gotham, probably more than anyone ever could, but she hated him more for putting the city before their marriage. It only made him wonder what she was going to think when she found out about Bruce; would she be angry, jealous, or both? Would she understand that both men want the same things for the city and that is why their relationship works? Would she see that Bruce ended up being everything she never was? Well, that was a bit harsh, maybe. She understood when they first married, but when Jimmy was born her priorities changed and kept changing when they has Susan. Gordon never understood what Barbara wanted from him; she couldn't just expect him to quit his job, his life –the whole reason he still lived in Gotham. He would give his kids anything and in doing that he wanted to give them a better life in the city he loved. Barbara took that from him, but somehow he was still blaming himself for everything.
Gordon sighed; this was not the way he wanted to spend his Thanksgiving, watching the official Wayne Foundation parade dedicated to the winter season with big balloons, bands, singing, dancing, and all around good cheer. Bruce had insisted that Gordon be the one in charge of the security, as he didn't trust anyone else, especially with Alberto Falcone suddenly back in town. They had questioned the young man best they could the night before, but he was so vague that all they got out of him was that he was just visiting his father, and he would be headed back to Italy soon. Gordon hardly trusted the man, but without reasonable cause for arrest, he had no way to detain him. Even then, Gordon was sure the man had one of the best lawyers. It would have been a complete waste of time. It was also the reason they decided not to tell the mayor yet; there was no point in worrying him over rumors.
So now, Gordon and Stephens were heading up security and keeping an eye out for any sign of mob activity. Gordon didn't know whether to be thankful there wasn't any, or just more suspicious. At first Stephens complained about having to work the sudden extra hours, but when Gordon told him Bruce was insisting, he jumped right on it. Gordon had a feeling maybe the detective was a bit afraid of the man since finding out Bruce was Batman.
Stephens was bringing up the rear of the security team towards the end of the parade, and Gordon was watching the front, where all the floats went after they finished their run. So far everything had gone smoothly: no glitches, no fires, no rampages, no criminal activity... Gordon was getting worried about the latter. These events never went down without something happening, even if that something was small. Gordon felt a little unnerved.
“Stephens, how's your end holding?” he asked into his walkie-talkie.
“It's holding, Commish,” replied a steady voice, but Gordon could almost hear a bit of boredom lingering in the undertones. “It's quiet.”
“Yeah, here too. Maybe a little too quiet. Let me know if it changes,” Gordon said. He placed the walkie back at his hip, watching the last float of the parade slide by, which happened to be Santa Claus and, of course, Bruce Wayne. The Wayne Foundation insisted that Bruce stand up there with Santa since he was the head of the board for Wayne Corp. Gordon watched as Bruce waved at the crowd, big cheesy grin plastered on his face, wearing a nice gray suit, hair combed back and gelled; ever the dense playboy that Gordon knew was so false. He found he actually loathed the facade Bruce put on, but he knew later that day he would be able to see past the show and enjoy the whimsical musings of the real man behind the many masks. He found himself longing for it in that instant, needing it more than anything after the hours of watching a pointless parade pass him by rotting his brain away.
Bruce looked right at him then – as if knowing what Gordon was thinking – giving him a more sincere smile, a friendlier, intimate wave and a long, hard gaze that sent a shiver down Gordon's spine. That was the man he was attracted to; the man he was sure he had fallen in love with but was too weary and unsure to say it. He sighed as he started walking down the platform towards where the float had parked. Bruce was still standing up there talking to the Santa Claus and giving that chuckle associated with the playboy side of him. Gordon climbed up the float towards the two men.
“Security checked out, Mr. Wayne. No issues,” Gordon said. Bruce turned around, holding out his hand to Gordon, who took it for a quick hand shake and then let go.
“Great! I think it's a good sign for the coming Christmas season!” Bruce said, the big cheesy grin back on his face. He reached out, taking Bruce's arm and pulling him to the side where the Santa couldn't see them talk.
“I think you're over doing it,” Gordon whispered.
Bruce laughed. “Please. You should see me at board meetings. This is nothing.”
Gordon was about to open his mouth again when his walkie crackled. Bruce looked down at it and then back to Gordon, who plucked it off his belt. “Repeat, please?”
“We have a situation at the Christmas tree in Gotham Square.” It wasn't Stephens, it was another hired hand –a rent-a-cop.
“On my way.” Gordon said. He saw the look on Bruce's face; it was one that wished he could go too, but he'd have to do it as Batman and the vigilante wasn't a day person. “Later.” was all Gordon mumbled to him before jumping down the steps of the float and taking off down the street in a sprint towards Gotham Square, just blocks away. He slipped down paths of melting ice, able to catch his balance but desperately wishing he had bought those new shoes.
The Christmas tree that stood taller than many of the building around Gotham Square came into Gordon's sight as he rounded the last block, forcing himself to a stop. That's when he saw the ambulance and five police squad cars already blocking the street off. Gordon approached the scene, ducking under the yellow police tape. He could see Stephens talking with one of the other officers and shaking his head in obvious annoyance. Gordon walked in what felt like slow motion towards the tree, catching the sight of mangled body in green Christmas lights. Inching a little closer he could see that it was the DA appointed after Harvey Dent: Darin Martin. Gotham City takes yet another life.
“We had to cut him down. He was tied to the tree with a string of lights,” said an officer beside Gordon. The man moved in a little closer and pointed to something on the ground that wasn't that obvious to see at first. “Left that tied to him, too. Fell off when we cut the lights.”
Gordon squatted down to see what it was, and without touching he could only guess it was a wishbone from a turkey. Why a wishbone? Stephens stepped up next to him and then knelt down with him. “Strangled to death.”
“Get what we can from the scene and log it before homicide gets here. Try to keep this as discreet as possible.” Gordon stood and turned to leave, but Stephens caught him by the arm.
“Does he know?”
“Not yet,” Gordon replied as he pulled his cellphone from his pocket. “But I have no doubt I'll be seeing him at the Mayor's office when I get there.” He gave the other man a wave and started off towards City Hall; it was only a few blocks away, he could manage to walk that far in his already wet, soggy socks and shoes. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Bruce to meet him there.
The mayor insisted when something above “bank robbery” occurred, that they immediately talk to him about their “game plan”. Gordon thought it was a bit much, but for the sake of Bruce's identity and keeping him out of Arkham, he went along with it. He placed the phone back in his pocket, pulling his coat tighter around him, and caught a glimpse of a black Ferrari out of the corner of his eye, following him.
He could pretend not to notice and let Bruce follow him slowly all the way to City Hall, or he could acknowledge him and accept the ride he knew the younger man would offer. He didn't get a lot of alone time with Bruce these days so the few moments he would get with him would be nice. Gordon stopped, turned to face the car that was now pulling up next to him. The window rolled down and Bruce gave him small, worried smile.
“Don't you have a car, Commissioner?”
Gordon furrowed his eyebrows at Bruce, stepping up to the window; “I needed the exercise.”
“Exercise?” Bruce asked a little grin forming on his lips. “I know of much better ways of working out, Jim.”
Gordon rolled his eyes at the other man's attempt to flirt with him, pulling the driver side door open. “Move,” he said, giving Bruce, who was already unbuckling, a push. “My car broke down last week.”
Bruce laughed. “So you've been walking everywhere for a week?” He sounded stunned, as if Gordon was absolutely insane. Or maybe he was stunned because Gordon didn't ask to borrow the Bentley.
“No! There is such a thing as public transportation, Bruce.” Gordon put the car into gear, surprised Bruce had so casually let him take the steering wheel... it was a step for Bruce; Gordon knew he had issues trusting people, and it meant quite a bit that he was able to trust Gordon.
Bruce had relaxed back into the passenger seat, letting the matter of Gordon's own car rest for now. “So, what's the news?” He folded his arms over his chest, laying his head against the window. Gordon was sure he was going to fall asleep on him.
Gordon pulled out into traffic, shifting gears; “Murder,” he mumbled, checking the mirrors, glancing at Bruce as the other man closed his eyes. “I'm not going to continue if you're just going to fall asleep.”
Bruce peeked his eyes open into small slits, giving Gordon a bit of an annoyed glare. “I'm listening. Murder. Go on.” Bruce waved a hand at him to keep going as he sat up in the seat and rubbed at drooping eyes.
“Victim was found strangled and tied to the tree with a string of Christmas lights,” Gordon said plainly, turning the steering wheel to maneuver around the corner, seeing City Hall coming up on his right. He pulled up to the red curb, putting the car in park but leaving it on. He glance over at Bruce, who was chewing on his lower lip and staring out the window, deep in thought. “Bruce?”
The younger man turned to Gordon, giving him a genuine little smile; “Sorry.” His face turned back to the serious, stony gaze he put on whenever they went to see the Mayor. “The silence of the city was too good to last for long.”
Gordon nodded and reached out to grasp Bruce's hand. “Nothing ever changes.” He squeezed Bruce's hand and then let go, opening the car door, stepping one leg out; “You know the drill.” He brought the other leg out and stood, closing the car door and watching Bruce slide into the driver's seat.
“See you in ten minutes,” Bruce said, gearing the car and speeding away down the street towards the public parking garage. This is how they arranged it; Gordon goes in first to meet with Mayor Garcia, ten to twenty minutes later Bruce would walk-in, flirt a little with the secretary, and she'd let him in to casually interrupt the conversation between the commissioner and the mayor. So far it's worked, and no one's caught on that Bruce was helping out the GCPD, or that he was Batman for that matter (the latter would be harder to figure).
Gordon jogged up the steps of the City Hall building; a man already at the door saw him coming and held it open for him, with a tip of his hat and a mumbled “Good afternoon, Commissioner.” Gordon walked past him with his own head nod, taking quick strides towards the elevator. He punched the 'up' button and waited, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands clutched in front of him. Finally the doors slid open with a ding and he walked in, quickly hitting the button again. If there was one good thing about the mayor finding out Batman's secret identity, it was that he and Bruce always did most of the business talk, such as the budget cuts. It really was a load off Gordon's shoulder's not to have to worry about it.
The elevator came to a stop at the top floor and Gordon strolled out, waving to the mayor's secretary, who looked as if she was expecting him; the televisions were already blaring the news. So much for being discreet, Gordon thought. He rapped on the door with his knuckle. It swung open and Garcia stood there, not looking too impressed, and Gordon sighed. Garcia stood out of the way and shifted his stance to let Gordon walk by.
“Commissioner Gordon,” Garcia said casually, closing the door behind them.
“Mayor,” Gordon replied. There was tension, obviously. The mayor hated surprises and hated even more to be lied to. He would expect nothing less from Gordon. “Shall I start or do you want me to wait for Mr. Wayne?”
“Start.”
“Stephens is still at the scene checking on it. We have a murder case. Strangulation by Christmas lights.”
“That's not a lot of information, Gordon.”
“There wasn't a lot at the scene of the crime.”
Garcia grasped his hands behind back, turned towards the large window over looking Gotham below. A knock at the door brought Garcia's attention back to Gordon as Bruce entered the room. He rushed forward with a hand out stretched for a firm handshake with the mayor. “Mr. Wayne,” Garcia started, “So glad you could make it.”
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