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Momentum:
Chapter One
written by destinyawakened
It was true that the Gordon household had it's ups and downs, leaving Jim and Barbara often fighting over the stupidest incidences, mainly having to do with Batman and late nights at the office. Barbara had grown accustomed to Jim's absences since his promotion four year prior. He had a job to do, and protecting Gotham was top priority. She stopped trying to convince him that his family came first a long time ago. His argument was always that if he protected Gotham, then he was protecting his family. How could she honestly compete with that?
At least he took a day off on the weekends to spend with Jimmy and Babs, catching up on what was happening in school and their social lives. He and Barbara, however, rarely talked anymore. When he wasn't with the kids he was working from home, on an important call, or having those damned secret meetings with the vigilante that started the whole mess to begin with. Barbara would be lying if she said she wasn't resentful.
The last time she and Jim actually sat down to talk about anything important – or anything at all for that matter – for longer than five minutes was more than six months ago. The most interaction they had was when he came home at two in the morning, buried his face in her neck, tickling her with his mustache, until she woke up enough for them to make love. It was rare, maybe once a week if she was lucky, but at least it showed her that he stilled cared and still wanted her.
Barbara wouldn't say she was unhappy, perhaps not as fulfilled in her life as she thought she would be, but unhappy she was not. Her two kids were growing up fast and Jim's job was taking off and everything that wasn't going wrong was going right.
Until, that was, she started to feel sick more often than not. She never once told Jim about her coughing fits, the blood she was starting to notice now and then when coughed too hard, the breathlessness, and heavy feeling in her chest. She chalked it up to years of smoking. And it was easy to hide from Jim since he was gone most of the time.
When a month passed and she felt no relief, Barbara finally took herself to the doctors for tests. They told her a few days and the results would be back and they would phone her.
It was an unbearable few days, as she tried to busy herself with housework when she wasn't at work, and helping the kids with homework. She was expecting the worst. And when the phone call did come she found she had to find a way to tell her husband, a man who was never there and she wasn't sure he would even care enough to be sympathetic with her.
But, of course he would. It was Jim – her husband. He was always there when she needed him the most. She picked up the phone and dialed his cellphone number. It was important she have him home this evening, so they could talk about this when the kids went to bed. Face-to-face, nothing else would really do.
The line rang and Jim answered; “Hi, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and caring. She didn't usually call during the day, he was always busy and never had a lot of time. He sounded happy to hear her voice, though.
“Jim, are you able to get tonight off?” she asked, trying to keep the shake from her voice.
There was a brief pause, as if he had heard her slight tremor. “Barbara, is everything okay?”
“No. We really need to talk.”
-----
Gordon walked through the front door of their home at exactly nine that evening, just as Babs and Jimmy were headed to bed. He tucked them both in, talked about their days, and then headed back to the kitchen where Barbara was making a fresh pot of coffee. He watched as her hands trembled slightly with the two mugs she placed on the counter. Gordon wasn't sure exactly what was happening, if something went wrong or if Barbara was just finally done dealing with his absences and wanted to leave.
He had a feeling the latter wasn't so.
Walking up behind her he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, arms falling around her waist into a warm hug. He nuzzled her his nose into her ear softly and she leaned her head into his. She turned around in his arms, sighing heavily as she placed both hands on his chest, fixing his tie and smoothing it down. She looked at him, sadly and Gordon began to worry. She wasn't going to leave him, but whatever she had to talk about wasn't going to be easy to hear either.
“Jim, I haven't been forthright with you on something, and it was only because I wasn't worried about it until now,” she started to explain. She took a deep breath. “For a few months now I've been getting very sick, coughing a lot. Even as much as coughing up blood. I went to the doctor the other day, finally.” She paused and Gordon looked at her expectantly, he could already hear the words before she said them. “I have lung cancer.”
Gordon let out the breath he forgot he was holding, a jagged sigh that made his chest fill with pain. He pulled Barbara a little closer to him, resting his forehead against hers. “How bad? Is it... treatable?”
“They want to try chemotherapy, but the Doctor isn't sure it will work. The cancer is pretty advanced, we might not have caught it soon enough.” Barbara leaned her head forward against his, tears welling up in her eyes. He brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks in his palms, stroking her jawline softly.
“We'll get you whatever treatment and doctors will help. I am going to be here for you, Barb. I promise, you will not do this alone,” Gordon said, kissing her lips softly. He knew he would have to do it, and that the consequences and the feelings of those he worked with were going to severely hurt. But this was his wife, his life and the very reason for doing everything he did for Gotham.
-----
The next morning Gordon walked into the Mayor's office, badge in hand along with his gun. Anthony Garcia looked him over once before gesturing to the seat across from his desk. Gordon took the seat, laying his pistol and badge down on the desk in front of him. Garcia looked at him pointedly.
“I'm not sure I really want to know what this is about,” Garcia said, refusing to pick up either item Gordon placed on the desk.
“I'm resigning. I'm not going to have the time to do this job properly,” Gordon explained, sighing. “I just found out my wife has cancer and I need to be there for her.”
Garcia nodded, understandingly. “Of course. I hope she pulls through it, Jim. You'll be welcomed back when she does. You're the best Commissioner Gotham's had in years.”
Gordon stood as Garcia did the same and they shook hands. Gordon nodded again, a grim smile on his face. It would only be a matter of time before everyone at the precinct heard of his resignation, and even less time before Batman found out.
The vigilante was not going to take this well.
-----
Gordon and Barbara both smoked, and it was obviously the main reason Barbara had gotten lung cancer. He knew he didn't have to give up smoking, but he would do it for her. The minute he got home that day from City Hall, he threw the last of their packs away and didn't look back. Barbara smiled at him, it was a weak attempt at making him feel better about the situation.
They had decided to wait and see if the chemotherapy was going to work before telling either Babs or Jimmy about their mother's illness. Bad idea to hide it or not, they didn't want to distract the kids from their school work, it was almost the end of the school year and there was no need to keep them from finishing strong.
Barbara moved from the table. “I'm going to lay down for a bit,” she said weakly, squeezing Gordon's shoulder as she walked past him to their bedroom. He stood, checking the time on his wrist watch. It a little after eight in the evening, Babs and Jimmy were in their rooms finishing some homework. Gordon decided he needed some air, some space to think.
He walked out the front door, closing it behind him. The night air was thick with the beginnings of summer setting in. This was the time he would usually have a cigarette, to inhale the taste and think out all the worries he had. He often found himself doing this early in the morning, coming home and having his last drag before heading to bed. Usually it was done while talking to Batman, sometimes about a case, sometimes about the Gordon's family.
But tonight, it was just Gordon and his empty hands fishing in his jean pockets for something to fiddle with, to keep his fingers busy. It would be a long road to being smoke-free, but his intentions were good and he wasn't going to slide off track; he made a promose Barbara and by God he was going to keep it.
“There's a rumor circling Gotham that the Commissioner has stepped down,” came a deep rasp from the rafters to Gordon's left. He looked up slowly, giving his head a slight nod in the vigilante's direction.
“Did what I had to do,” Gordon said matter-of-factly. He didn't look the Bat in the eye because he knew the steady gaze by heart. “Barbara needs me here and supporting the city and her would just not work out. I had to make a choice.”
Batman didn't say anything, he simply looked at Gordon, expecting a better answer, something more detailed. Gordon finally looked up at the other man, if he could even be called that, and saw the betrayal in his eyes. Gordon sighed and walked towards the rafters so he wouldn't need to raise his voice, last thing he needed was someone over hearing.
“She's sick. Lung cancer,” Gordon stated sadly. He leaned against one of the poles, folding his arms over his chest. “You'd do the same thing if you were in my shoes.” As if he had to justify his actions to Batman, but in a way he felt he did. They'd worked together, despite the vigilante's warrant for arrest for killing five people (falsely accused), for nearly four years now and Batman was the closest thing to a friend Gordon had. Well, there was Gerard Stephens, Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock, but he didn't want to count people from work among his closest companions.
Gordon liked to think that Batman was someone who would be there for him whether he was on the police force or not.
There was silence, a good two minutes worth, and Gordon had to look up to be sure Batman was even still there. He was. He looked at Gordon worriedly, nodding his head that he did understand. At least Gordon had been right about him, that Batman was the kind of “friend” that would be there for him despite not talking his situation over with the Bat first. Of course, Gordon knew Batman was not happy about it, but the vigilante cared enough to push those feeling aside for now. This situation was not expected and Gordon couldn't be made to feel bad for something he had to do.
“If you need anything,” Batman started to say, “let me know.” He tossed down a cell phone, or what looked to be a cell phone. “It calls one number.” Batman held up another phone, indicating that it was would be him Gordon would be calling. Gordon smiled, the first smile he had managed since last night.
He went to thank the Bat, but the split second Gordon had looked down, the other man decided to flee into the shadows. “Thanks,” Gordon whispered anyway, to get the words off his tongue and to feel grateful in his own skin. It was then he began to worry for Batman, still being hunted and with no on in the police department on his side now, the man was completely alone.
No, Jim. Don't worry yourself with him. He'll be fine. Everything will be fine.
-----
Bruce Wayne, a man of pure ignorance to his surroundings, playing the field, throwing money at restaurants and generally being known as an blatant airhead. It was an act, a facade of sorts that he and Alfred had come up with some five years ago now. Sometimes Bruce wished he could push the “other Bruce” out the window and just be himself. But even “himself” was a little daunting these days. He didn't know his left foot from his right when he wasn't in the Batsuit. The suit has become a place of refuge for Bruce after Rachel's untimely death. He didn't want to face the world as Bruce Wayne, so he faced it with fists flying into the jaws of criminals every night. An outlet. A place to stay grounded and not think about how he failed Rachel and Harvey Dent.
How he failed Jim Gordon.
Failed Gotham.
Bruce never spoke of these things, not to Alfred not Lucius Fox... Not to anyone. He kept them bottled up inside, pent up for nights he could just release all his emotions and do some good for the city that had turned it's back on him.
Everything or nothing, and Bruce gave everything.
The problem now was he wasn't sure what he would be able to achieve with Jim Gordon having stepped down from his position as commissioner. It might have been a temporary leave, but it meant that Gotham would have a temporary Commissioner. And Bruce would have no one; not one ally or friend. No one.
And Bruce knew that he couldn't feel anger towards Gordon, because the man had good reason for taking the actions he did and taking a leave. His family – his wife – needed him. Where Bruce couldn't quite relate, having lost his parents when he was nine, he knew that it was a hard decision to chose between the two things that meant the most to Gordon. Gotham would always be there, waiting for the day Gordon returned and ready to haunt his dreams once again. But his wife would not always be there, and Bruce had hacked enough files when he returned home last night, to know.
Barbara Gordon's chemotherapy treatment was a humble approach from her doctors to give her some hope of living through the cancer, even if it was unlikely. She had what was known as stage three lung cancer that had gone detected for too long. The cancer had spread to the lymph nodes surrounding her heart, and there was risk that the cancer could spread even further.
If Bruce felt anything about the situation it was pity for and sympathy for Gordon's two kids. Losing a parent was hard and he knew first hand just how difficult it was going to be on them. He wished there was more he could do, but outside of Batman, Bruce knew nothing of the Gordons and offering money to help for the best procedures would seem all but curious. Not to mention Gordon was a proud man and would never accept charity from a man the likes of Bruce Wayne.
So, there was nothing he could do without drawing unneeded attention to both he and Jim Gordon. But that didn't mean he wouldn't be around to check on them, to be sure things were going well and to see how Gordon was handling everything. With so much stress on the man's shoulders now to take care of his kids, his wife, and run the household, Bruce was sure Gordon was going to run himself ragged. This wasn't like stress from work, this was stress of holding everything the family was made of together.
Bruce had a feeling Gordon was going to need more support than he was letting on and Bruce wasn't sure if he was going to be able to be the one to give it to him. It was one thing to be a loving and semi-decent, caring person as Bruce Wayne, but it was another thing to be that person as Batman.
And Gordon only knew Batman, not Bruce.
Despite it all, Bruce knew he could try to be there for him, in some way or form. Jim Gordon was, after all, the closest thing he had to a friend.
-----
The first doctor's appointment Jim Gordon went to with his wife was more devastating than he thought it would have been. The doctors told Barbara if she had any chance of beating the cancer completely it would be with surgery first and then chemotherapy and radiation therapy. The surgery would be to see how bad the cancer had spread, if any of it could be removed and a catheter placed in the upper cavity of her chest near a larger vein; this would help the rounds of chemotherapy and radiation therapy be a lot less strenuous. Of course, none of it was a promise that any of it would work. Barbara's cancer was worse than they originally assumed and after taking more x-rays, it was obvious the cancer had spreading to both lungs.
What bothered Gordon the most was that neither of them ever caught on to her not feeling well sooner, or getting sick more often. Or least nothing she complained about. Sure, she coughed a lot in the past, but being that they were both smokers it was normal for that to happen. How could they have been so naïve about this? How did they let this happen? How did he let this happen? Gordon knew that if he had spent more time at home, more time with around his family that maybe he would have seen the signs sooner.
Barbara grabbed his arm as they left the doctor's officer after having set an appointment for her surgery. “Don't, Jim. Don't blame yourself. I know that's what you're thinking,” she whispered as she looped her arm in his and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked to the car.
“How can I not blame myself? If I had been more aware I might have noticed the little things,” he whispered back to her, nudging her head with his for a brief moment. It was an awkward walk to the car in the position they were in, but none of it mattered.
They arrived at the car and he opened the door for her, helping her in. She pushed at him to let go and gave him a quick grin. The last few days she insisted that she could still do everything herself, that she didn't feel tired or weak, and that she wanted to be able to do things while she still could. Gordon admired his wife for that, but he couldn't help be feel if he didn't help her – didn't take care of her – then she would only get worse. He knew it was silly to think, but he couldn't quite get it out of his head.
He shut the door behind her and walked around to the other side of the car and got in. He started the car and as they drove off towards home, he wondered just how they were going to tell Jimmy and Barbara. The idea was to not tell them until they knew the chemotherapy was working or not, but it seemed obvious that that notion all together was wrong – their kids deserved to know the truth.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe their children were more mature than they assumed and would be able to handle the news. Even if they weren't, they had to know. Gordon looked over at his wife who was looking at her hands, obviously deep in her own thoughts. He looked back to the road and then sighed.
“How do you think Babs and Jimmy will react?” Gordon asked softly. Barbara didn't move, but he heard her let our a little sigh of her own.
“They're both old enough to understand the issues of life and that bad things happen, Jim. We live in Gotham, they can't not know that that,” Barbara said, her voice was strong as if she had practiced this conversation before. He didn't know what else to say to that, it rested his fears he might have had with his kids, but he was still so scared about their reactions if their mother did die.
Gordon was briefly reminded of another child who had lost his parents in a much more grueling manner: Bruce Wayne. He was about nine or ten when it happened, if Gordon could remember correctly. He remembered the look in Wayne's eyes, the sadness and depression that had started to set in after the shock and realization had passed. He heard stories of Wayne for years after that, how he caused trouble, attempted a lot of daring acts and landed himself in the hospital quite a few times. Even so far as to get thrown out of Princeton and then disappear a few days later to not be seen for seven years. Gordon thought the kid had finally killed himself, done the deed that would take him back to a time when he was happy. Bring him back to his parents.
To everyone's surprise, Wayne showed up seven years later acting as if he had never left and taking control of his father's company. There was no sign of the little boy Gordon had comforted all those years ago. Wayne even managed to burn down Wayne Manor, proving that whatever was left of his parents truly didn't matter. Wayne had not turned out the way Gordon, or anyone else who had watched him for years from afar, would have liked him to.
Gordon didn't want that with his children. He wanted them to remember their mother, if she passed, for who she was and what she did and not mourn the way Wayne had. No one should feel that way.
“They'll be fine, Jim.”
-----
And Barbara was right. Babs cried with her mother, as was expected and Jimmy stood there with his eyes focused on his mother, but said nothing. It was typical, Gordon thought, for a teenage boy to fear emotion, much less show them in front of his family when he was on the verge of proving himself to be a man. Gordon wasn't worried, and even less so when he walked passed his son's room that evening and heard sobbing.
He told Barbara and she had smiled at him warmly. “He wants to be strong for all of us, Jim. I can't blame him for that. Someone needs to be.” She hugged him tightly as they lay in bed together, watching the moonlit shadows wave across the ceiling. “I should tell you something,” she whispered. He held her a little closer, taking her head and rest it on his chest and he relaxed himself into a comfortable position.
“And what is that, sweetheart?” Gordon asked softly, running his fingers through her soft hair.
“I'm not scared of death. I know in the long run, no matter how many surgeries, and no matter how much chemotherapy they try it won't make a difference. They're only buying me a little more time.” Her was strong again, as it had been earlier and Gordon knew she had been thinking about this too for quite some time. His leaned and kissed her forehead softly, not wanting to think about it, but it was looming there and he knew the subject would never be dropped.
“Barbara, please,” he started to say and she placed a hand over his lips, and in the dark he could barely make out her form, but he knew she was crying from the shallow breaths he was hearing. He took her hand into his and kissed it, then moving to her lips and kissing her softly. If she was right, and she wasn't going to live through this, then he would show her that despite all the years he worked late hours, he was here for her and that he loved her.
-----
“Dad?” Babs asked from the kitchen table, stabbing at her eggs. Gordon looked over at her from behind his newspaper, raising an eyebrow.
“What are Mom's chances really? She said they were good, but I'm not stupid, Dad.” Babs asked, putting her fork down and folding her hands in front of her and looking at her father pointedly.
Gordon sighed, putting his newspaper down and copying his daughter's pose. “It's really only a matter of time. The chemotherapy might give her a few more months, but your mother doesn't seem to think it will be much.”
Babs nodded, lowering her eyes back to her food. “Do you think Mom would like to go to the beach today?” Most occasions Gordon would have thought this was a another random idea of Babs, but he could see she just wanted her mother to relax and enjoy what she had left.
Gordon nodded. “I'm sure she would love that, sweetie. Why don't you go see if Jimmy wants to go, too.”
Babs smiled and pushed away from the table, heading towards the bedrooms. Gordon was pretty proud of his children, but he still worried, mostly about Jimmy. He didn't want Jimmy to recluse, to hide his feelings, to hide from everyone. To hide his own pain. If they kept pushing forward and including him, maybe it wouldn't end up that way.
----
The next few days went by rather slowly. The day approaching for the surgery and Gordon found the family talked less and less about the issue, especially around Jimmy. Gordon didn't mind, he didn't want to think about the consequences and the what-if's. He just wanted to enjoy the time as a family until they had to put everything aside and place all their thoughts and prayers on Barbara. Even an extra month would be better than nothing.
Babs and Jimmy had gotten done with school that week, so now they sat with their father in the waiting room as their mother went in for surgery. Jimmy was playing with his Nintendo DS and Babs was reading a book while curled up in a corner chair. Gordon had out his cell phone and was checking his texts and voice mail messages.
Stephens had left him a message to say that the Mayor appointed Michael Atkins as Commissioner for the time that Gordon was gone. Which, honestly, Gordon didn't know when he would return. Why did he feel he was letting down his team and city? No, it wasn't them he was worried about, it was Batman. The man had said he would be by to check up, but in the last week he hadn't seen nor heard from him, let alone heard of any sightings.
Maybe Batman was getting wise and staying low for a while. Gotham was not a safe place for the vigilante without Gordon there to give him inside intel. Or maybe it was that Batman was angry with him for stepping down and taking a leave without even consulting him first. Doubtful, but possible. Still, he did wish he could at least talk to Batman, have someone else to talk to during this time. He knew that Batman wouldn't give condolences or words he wanted to hear, he would just listen to whatever Gordon wanted to talk about.
But after today, he wasn't sure if he would want to talk at all.
His thoughts drifted back to Barbara and somehow he knew in his heart he needed to be ready to let go. Maybe not today, but soon. He looked over at Jimmy and then to Babs, each in their own little world pretending, just as he was, that nothing was wrong. For a little while longer all three of them could pretend and just be.
-----
Barbara made I through the surgery, however the cancer had spread more than they had anticipated and weren't able to remove anything that would help her live longer. Her only hope now was that the chemotherapy did some good. It made Gordon more regretful of his job, his work, what he thought was his life. But his real life, his family, was falling apart. Jimmy had started to hide from them, going into his room when he had the chance, locking himself in only to come out (rarely at that) for meals. It didn't seem to bug Barbara, she seemed to understand that Jimmy was having a hard time.
Babs however spent every moment she could with her mother, even when her friends called to hang out. Barbara, who had started to go into the hospital once every two weeks for the past month now for her chemotherapy treatments. Babs had told him that her Mother's hair had started to thin out a bit, as she helped her brush it every morning. Thinning wasn't what Gordon would have called that, it was starting to fall out completely, but Barbara didn't seem to notice much. She did however complain that her chest hurt, and that she was constantly tired and fatigued after only being awake a few hours. She could barely walk without being short of breath and it soon got to the point that she didn't go anywhere with out someone helping her.
The worst of the side effects, Gordon noticed, was the random mood swings as the chemicals altered his wife's system. She would snap at him for folding laundry wrong to only cry and apologize later. He didn't once snap back at her; he knew it wasn't her fault.
There was only so much Gordon could do when he wasn't taking Barbara to her doctor's appointments or her therapy sessions.. He cleaned the house, and took care of unfinished business he had been meaning to for a while now. Jimmy was slowly getting worse, even skipping meals. Barbara assure Gordon that the teenage boy just needed some time to find his own way to cope. Still, Gordon found himself worrying more and more. Months went by and he could isolated and stuck, but he wouldn't have had any other way than to be at his wife's side.
It was to the point that one night while Barbara was in their bed and Babs was curled up next to her reading one of their favorite books out loud, that Gordon went out to the front porch to sit and have a moment where he didn't have to think about anyone else. He had been so worried and so wrapped up in everyone else's well being that he often forgot to take a moment for himself. In fact, he was sure he forgot to sleep the night before at all.
They meshed together now and he couldn't really remember if had slept or not.
He sat down on the steps leading down to the sidewalk and watched the beginning of first rain of the fall start to splatter against the sidewalks. He hadn't had a moment like this, a few minutes to himself, in weeks – maybe even months. Since the kids went back to school it was harder to get things done and take care of Barbara.
There was just so much stress. And even this moment felt like it was going to pass too quickly.
“How are things?” rasped a voice from his left. Gordon lifted his head to look at Batman squatted on the railing near the rafters – his usual spot.
Gordon took off his glasses, placing them on the stair next ot him. He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Fine,” he lied, and he heard Batman make a slight scoffing noise, as if he knew better. “Okay, not fine. Everything is falling apart. I spend so much time taking care of Barb that I have to get everything else done when she and the kids have gone to bed. I'm not even sure what day it is anymore.”
“Thursday,” Batman stated. Gordon watched the figure of Batman shift slightly, as if uneasy. “You should rest, Jim. Get some help.”
“Help? I can't afford to hire anyone. Our families live too far away. Friends are too afraid to come around now, afraid they'll get Barb sick. There is no help.” Gordon held his head in his hands, staring down at the blurry steps below him. Was Batman actually suggesting this? Gordon wanted to be irritated, but the man was just trying to make conversation and offer some advice.
There was a silence, as if Batman was contemplating something. “I'm sorry,” as if those words would make everything better, and really, they didn't. Gordon had heard the phrase one too many times in the past four months, since they found out.
Gordon shook his head. “Don't. Last thing I need is sympathy from a man who dressed up as a giant bat.” He turned his head towards the shadow that was the vigilante, but found that he had left. Typical and perfectly normal. At least somethings hadn't changed.
-----
That was the only time he saw Batman during the first few months of Barbara's treatments. Christmas had come up on them rather quick, and the kids understood that it would be a very light Christmas due to them not having too much money. They were living off Gordon's family leave income and what Barbara was getting from disability at her part time job at the law office as secretary, but she wasn't bound to go back. In fact, Gordon was sure she was never going back. The chemotherapy and the few rounds of radiation they had tried only seemed to drag her time out a little further.
Barbara had lost all of her hair, gone to wearing one of those scarves to keep her head warm. She spent most of the time on the couch in the living room reading or snuggling with Gordon, because that was what she wanted. He wasn't about to deny her anything. They both knew that the chemotherapy wasn't doing any good, it had prolonged her health for an inevitable amount of time. When did they say it was enough and let be, be?
They really let the doctors decide there. So far, the doctors seemed to think that it would still work, that her body could fight it off. But Barbara knew better, knew her body was slowly taking a turn and the chemicals weren't really making anything better.
At least they would have Christmas.
----
Christmas evening Barbara went to bed early, Babs was cleaning up from dinner and Jimmy had stowed himself away in his room with all his new video games. The teenage boy was still hiding from them, more so than ever now. He rarely talked, often went to friends' houses when he wasn't at school and avoided his mother as if she was a bad plague. Gordon wanted to slap some sense into his son, but Barbara reassured him that she was fine with it, that Jimmy really just needed to deal with things on his own terms.
But what happened when his mother did die, because that was inevitable now, and he never got to tell her how he felt, or see her one last time or spend the time he should have spent with her? The guilt he knew his son was going to feel would be overwhelming. If he son felt anything. Gordon wasn't sure anymore.
Gordon took a moment and looked at the cell phone Batman had given him over six months ago. He hadn't used, hadn't needed to... Hadn't had the time. It would seem silly to call now and wish the man a Merry Christmas. He put the phone back into his pocket, looking out the window at the houses decorated with bright lights, now covered in a new blanket of snow. He thought maybe Batman would be out tonight, maybe he would come by. But with the snow, he hoped Batman was inside keeping warm instead.
If Batman was still around at all. No one had heard from him. No sightings. Nothing. The city was falling apart again, slowly, and Gordon didn't need to be kept in the loop at the station to know that. The city needed Batman and he wasn't around.
Gordon knew that was his fault. Without an ally, Batman had no way of doing his job efficiently. And Gordon had heard some stories about the new acting Commissioner, Michael Atkins, giving the order to shoot Batman on sight, something that “Gordon should have issued a long time ago”. Rumors were that Atkins would be good for city, but so far, the criminal level was high and Gordon knew it was only a matter of time before the city went under again.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
He stepped out onto the front porch, watching the new flakes of snow fall softly to the ground. His city needed him, but he couldn't give her what she needed. He had priorities and it was an indefinite amount of time until he knew for sure he could go back to his job. He sighed, starting to head back inside when he heard the scuffing of boots on the porch a few feet from him. He looked over, seeing Batman, oddly enough, standing there.
“Sometimes I think you're psychic,” Gordon mumbled, shutting the front door again. Batman shrugged, but didn't move. Gordon stuffed his hands into his pocket to keep them warm. “Merry Christmas.” It did sound weird to say, but it did warrant him a soft smile, if that's what he could call it, from Batman.
“You too,” Batman responded, but his voice wasn't the usual rasp, it was a little lighter today. Another moment passed and Batman actually took a step forward into the porch light and Gordon could actually see his eyes, something that didn't happen often. “How are you holding up?” It was never about the Barbara when he did hear from Batman, it was always about Gordon. Maybe that was because Batman knew like the rest of the family that Barbara's fate was inevitable.
“Tried. Stressed. The usual,” Gordon answered. “It's going to happen soon, I know it is. And I told myself I would be ready, but I don't think I am. I don't want to have to let go.” It was the most he had said to anyone about how he felt. He didn't Barbara because he didn't want her to know that he was weaker than she thought. Batman looked him over sympathetically and after an odd few seconds the Bat placed a gloved hand on Gordon's shoulder and pulled him towards him.
Gordon hadn't expected it. The Bat had pulled Gordon into a hug, awkward and bit uncomfortable with the Kevlar mashing between them. But it was the idea and the notion that caught Gordon's attention and brought his defenses down. He found he didn't care then if Batman saw him cry, because God knew if anyone did see it, why not the man he trusted to protect his own family?
-----
Shortly after the first of the year Barbara was taken into the hospital. The cancer had spread again and the doctors finally gave the okay to take her off the therapy all together. Gordon knew it had been coming, and Barbara seemed at peace with it. Babs spent what time she had after school sitting with her mom before Gordon told her to take her and Jimmy home, do their homework and get to bed. He stayed with his wife and asked the neighbor to keep an eye on the kids while he wasn't there.
The doctors said there were only a few days, if that, left before Barbara passed. They gave her painkillers to ease whatever discomfort she was having, and she spent most of her time sleeping or watching television with Gordon. He didn't mind. They had a few conversations, mostly about the past, their marriage, their weddings, their first dates, when the kids were born. Gordon held himself together the best he could.
And still, through it all, he was so stressed. He would have to plan a funeral, a memorial, file paperwork, figure out how to take care of the kids while going back to work. Why was he thinking about this? Was it normal to think about this while his wife was dying? Denial, maybe? Or just worry. Everything.
----
Barbara sat up in her hospital bed, watching whatever was on the television while Jim paced the room. They were waiting for Jimmy to be dropped off by his friend's mother, he had called and said he wanted to see her that day. Barbara always knew at some point Jimmy would break and move forward with his feelings. She also knew that he had caused his father a lot of stress over it, but Jim would understand at some point that the teenager just needed his space to figure things out.
The door opened and Jimmy walked in, placing his book bag on the chair. He pulled out a deck of cards and pulled up another chair next to Barbara's side. Jim smiled and left the room. Jimmy shuffled the cards and smiled at her.
“Go fish?” he asked, knowing that that was their favorite game when he was younger. She nodded. It was hard to play with two people, but it didn't really matter. Her son was wanting to spend time with her and she would take what she could get it.
After a minutes of playing, Jimmy looked up at her curiously. “Does it hurt, Mom?”
“Not so much anymore. They're giving me something for it,” she responded, giving him a weak little smile. He continued to look at her with determination on his face.
“Did it hurt before? The treatments that is?” he inquired this time, and she placed her hand of cards down and took a hold of his.
“It didn't really hurt... it was, I can't even explain how it felt. Exhausted and weak. It was all worth it though, to spend just a little more time with you and Babs and your Dad.” She wanted Jimmy to know she wasn't scared now and that she regretted nothing, not even him not really communicating with any of them for six months.
Jimmy lowered his head, shamefully. “I'm sorry.” He sighed and she squeezed his hand. After a few minutes he looked back up at her, tears in his eyes. “Were you scared? Are you scared now?”
“At first, a little, maybe. More scared for you and Babs, leaving you with your Dad. But I think he can handle it.” She took a deep breath, the soreness in her chest felt like a brick. She had pain medication but it didn't always take the complete edge off. “Now? Now I'm just tired and I find it so hard to even move or stay awake most of the time. So, no. I'm not scared, Jimmy. It's been a good experience and I know the rest of you will come off stronger for it as well.”
He nodded and they finished their game silence.
-----
It was at the end of the first week and Gordon was standing in the hall, leaning his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. He was so tired. He hadn't slept, hadn't really in months anyway. He didn't eat, sick with worry and stress. Every part of him ached and his head felt like it was in a deep fog. He thought for sure he would fall asleep right there, waiting on the doctors to check over his wife. She had been breathing unsteadily and they wanted to check her vitals.
Everyone knew she was dying, so why they bothered to worry about such things, Gordon wouldn't know. He thought if Barbara had any say, she would want to go in peace and not hooked to machines. He'd take her out of here if he felt he could handle taking care of her himself for the next however many days she had left. But the truth was he could barely take care of himself, let alone his wife. How pathetic was that?
He heard the rustle of feet pass him and he didn't think about it, he was so tired. But when he heard the door of his wife's room open and the voices grow more frantic, he opened his eyes and knew that everything at that moment had changed. Everything slowed and the world around his family finally made the last crash into reality.
----
Jim Gordon made all the plans himself; the funeral, the memorial, calling of all relatives, paying all the bills and closing accounts. He did everything. By the time the funeral came, he had barely had time to catch up on anything besides the business surrounding his now departed wife. He had no sleep and he was so thin now that even his daughter was trying to push food on him, but it felt so weird to put anything in his mouth, and it made him sick to really think about eating at all.
The funeral was small, he left it that way purposely so that it was close friends and family, and the kids wouldn't have to deal too many people they didn't know offering the same condolences they had kept hearing from everyone over the last seven months. The memorial afterwards had a few more people, mostly co-workers of Barbara and Gordon, and they all just kept crowding him, Babs and Jimmy. Jimmy finally had enough and left. Babs stayed with her Dad, to be sure he would stay sane. She held onto his arm with her hands tightly, staying close.
Gordon was listening to Renee Montoya talk about something to do with the precinct and some loony criminal they were having trouble catching, when Gordon felt an unease in the middle of his chest, a pressure that started to build. He started to feel pain in his back, and he was sure the stress was getting to him. He put a hand to his head as his eye sight started to blur a little, and his head began to feel light. Babs squeezed his arm.
“Dad, you don't look so well. Do you need to sit down?” she asked as a few other people had started to voice their own concern. Gordon went to respond, but the pain from his back had moved to his left arm, and it felt like he was struggling for air when he knew he was breathing fine. He brought his other hands up to either to his own shoulder or chest, he couldn't really tell which, and Babs had helped him to the floor and heard someone yell to call for ambulance. He was fine, right? Of course, a little panic attack was surely all it was.
Except when the pain worsened he was sure it wasn't that panic plaguing him. He focused a little on Babs' blue eyes and he couldn't hear her anymore, but he was sure she was telling him to stay calm. And then everything felt like a swirl of pain in his chest and his vision blacked out.
At least he took a day off on the weekends to spend with Jimmy and Babs, catching up on what was happening in school and their social lives. He and Barbara, however, rarely talked anymore. When he wasn't with the kids he was working from home, on an important call, or having those damned secret meetings with the vigilante that started the whole mess to begin with. Barbara would be lying if she said she wasn't resentful.
The last time she and Jim actually sat down to talk about anything important – or anything at all for that matter – for longer than five minutes was more than six months ago. The most interaction they had was when he came home at two in the morning, buried his face in her neck, tickling her with his mustache, until she woke up enough for them to make love. It was rare, maybe once a week if she was lucky, but at least it showed her that he stilled cared and still wanted her.
Barbara wouldn't say she was unhappy, perhaps not as fulfilled in her life as she thought she would be, but unhappy she was not. Her two kids were growing up fast and Jim's job was taking off and everything that wasn't going wrong was going right.
Until, that was, she started to feel sick more often than not. She never once told Jim about her coughing fits, the blood she was starting to notice now and then when coughed too hard, the breathlessness, and heavy feeling in her chest. She chalked it up to years of smoking. And it was easy to hide from Jim since he was gone most of the time.
When a month passed and she felt no relief, Barbara finally took herself to the doctors for tests. They told her a few days and the results would be back and they would phone her.
It was an unbearable few days, as she tried to busy herself with housework when she wasn't at work, and helping the kids with homework. She was expecting the worst. And when the phone call did come she found she had to find a way to tell her husband, a man who was never there and she wasn't sure he would even care enough to be sympathetic with her.
But, of course he would. It was Jim – her husband. He was always there when she needed him the most. She picked up the phone and dialed his cellphone number. It was important she have him home this evening, so they could talk about this when the kids went to bed. Face-to-face, nothing else would really do.
The line rang and Jim answered; “Hi, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and caring. She didn't usually call during the day, he was always busy and never had a lot of time. He sounded happy to hear her voice, though.
“Jim, are you able to get tonight off?” she asked, trying to keep the shake from her voice.
There was a brief pause, as if he had heard her slight tremor. “Barbara, is everything okay?”
“No. We really need to talk.”
-----
Gordon walked through the front door of their home at exactly nine that evening, just as Babs and Jimmy were headed to bed. He tucked them both in, talked about their days, and then headed back to the kitchen where Barbara was making a fresh pot of coffee. He watched as her hands trembled slightly with the two mugs she placed on the counter. Gordon wasn't sure exactly what was happening, if something went wrong or if Barbara was just finally done dealing with his absences and wanted to leave.
He had a feeling the latter wasn't so.
Walking up behind her he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him, arms falling around her waist into a warm hug. He nuzzled her his nose into her ear softly and she leaned her head into his. She turned around in his arms, sighing heavily as she placed both hands on his chest, fixing his tie and smoothing it down. She looked at him, sadly and Gordon began to worry. She wasn't going to leave him, but whatever she had to talk about wasn't going to be easy to hear either.
“Jim, I haven't been forthright with you on something, and it was only because I wasn't worried about it until now,” she started to explain. She took a deep breath. “For a few months now I've been getting very sick, coughing a lot. Even as much as coughing up blood. I went to the doctor the other day, finally.” She paused and Gordon looked at her expectantly, he could already hear the words before she said them. “I have lung cancer.”
Gordon let out the breath he forgot he was holding, a jagged sigh that made his chest fill with pain. He pulled Barbara a little closer to him, resting his forehead against hers. “How bad? Is it... treatable?”
“They want to try chemotherapy, but the Doctor isn't sure it will work. The cancer is pretty advanced, we might not have caught it soon enough.” Barbara leaned her head forward against his, tears welling up in her eyes. He brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks in his palms, stroking her jawline softly.
“We'll get you whatever treatment and doctors will help. I am going to be here for you, Barb. I promise, you will not do this alone,” Gordon said, kissing her lips softly. He knew he would have to do it, and that the consequences and the feelings of those he worked with were going to severely hurt. But this was his wife, his life and the very reason for doing everything he did for Gotham.
-----
The next morning Gordon walked into the Mayor's office, badge in hand along with his gun. Anthony Garcia looked him over once before gesturing to the seat across from his desk. Gordon took the seat, laying his pistol and badge down on the desk in front of him. Garcia looked at him pointedly.
“I'm not sure I really want to know what this is about,” Garcia said, refusing to pick up either item Gordon placed on the desk.
“I'm resigning. I'm not going to have the time to do this job properly,” Gordon explained, sighing. “I just found out my wife has cancer and I need to be there for her.”
Garcia nodded, understandingly. “Of course. I hope she pulls through it, Jim. You'll be welcomed back when she does. You're the best Commissioner Gotham's had in years.”
Gordon stood as Garcia did the same and they shook hands. Gordon nodded again, a grim smile on his face. It would only be a matter of time before everyone at the precinct heard of his resignation, and even less time before Batman found out.
The vigilante was not going to take this well.
-----
Gordon and Barbara both smoked, and it was obviously the main reason Barbara had gotten lung cancer. He knew he didn't have to give up smoking, but he would do it for her. The minute he got home that day from City Hall, he threw the last of their packs away and didn't look back. Barbara smiled at him, it was a weak attempt at making him feel better about the situation.
They had decided to wait and see if the chemotherapy was going to work before telling either Babs or Jimmy about their mother's illness. Bad idea to hide it or not, they didn't want to distract the kids from their school work, it was almost the end of the school year and there was no need to keep them from finishing strong.
Barbara moved from the table. “I'm going to lay down for a bit,” she said weakly, squeezing Gordon's shoulder as she walked past him to their bedroom. He stood, checking the time on his wrist watch. It a little after eight in the evening, Babs and Jimmy were in their rooms finishing some homework. Gordon decided he needed some air, some space to think.
He walked out the front door, closing it behind him. The night air was thick with the beginnings of summer setting in. This was the time he would usually have a cigarette, to inhale the taste and think out all the worries he had. He often found himself doing this early in the morning, coming home and having his last drag before heading to bed. Usually it was done while talking to Batman, sometimes about a case, sometimes about the Gordon's family.
But tonight, it was just Gordon and his empty hands fishing in his jean pockets for something to fiddle with, to keep his fingers busy. It would be a long road to being smoke-free, but his intentions were good and he wasn't going to slide off track; he made a promose Barbara and by God he was going to keep it.
“There's a rumor circling Gotham that the Commissioner has stepped down,” came a deep rasp from the rafters to Gordon's left. He looked up slowly, giving his head a slight nod in the vigilante's direction.
“Did what I had to do,” Gordon said matter-of-factly. He didn't look the Bat in the eye because he knew the steady gaze by heart. “Barbara needs me here and supporting the city and her would just not work out. I had to make a choice.”
Batman didn't say anything, he simply looked at Gordon, expecting a better answer, something more detailed. Gordon finally looked up at the other man, if he could even be called that, and saw the betrayal in his eyes. Gordon sighed and walked towards the rafters so he wouldn't need to raise his voice, last thing he needed was someone over hearing.
“She's sick. Lung cancer,” Gordon stated sadly. He leaned against one of the poles, folding his arms over his chest. “You'd do the same thing if you were in my shoes.” As if he had to justify his actions to Batman, but in a way he felt he did. They'd worked together, despite the vigilante's warrant for arrest for killing five people (falsely accused), for nearly four years now and Batman was the closest thing to a friend Gordon had. Well, there was Gerard Stephens, Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock, but he didn't want to count people from work among his closest companions.
Gordon liked to think that Batman was someone who would be there for him whether he was on the police force or not.
There was silence, a good two minutes worth, and Gordon had to look up to be sure Batman was even still there. He was. He looked at Gordon worriedly, nodding his head that he did understand. At least Gordon had been right about him, that Batman was the kind of “friend” that would be there for him despite not talking his situation over with the Bat first. Of course, Gordon knew Batman was not happy about it, but the vigilante cared enough to push those feeling aside for now. This situation was not expected and Gordon couldn't be made to feel bad for something he had to do.
“If you need anything,” Batman started to say, “let me know.” He tossed down a cell phone, or what looked to be a cell phone. “It calls one number.” Batman held up another phone, indicating that it was would be him Gordon would be calling. Gordon smiled, the first smile he had managed since last night.
He went to thank the Bat, but the split second Gordon had looked down, the other man decided to flee into the shadows. “Thanks,” Gordon whispered anyway, to get the words off his tongue and to feel grateful in his own skin. It was then he began to worry for Batman, still being hunted and with no on in the police department on his side now, the man was completely alone.
No, Jim. Don't worry yourself with him. He'll be fine. Everything will be fine.
-----
Bruce Wayne, a man of pure ignorance to his surroundings, playing the field, throwing money at restaurants and generally being known as an blatant airhead. It was an act, a facade of sorts that he and Alfred had come up with some five years ago now. Sometimes Bruce wished he could push the “other Bruce” out the window and just be himself. But even “himself” was a little daunting these days. He didn't know his left foot from his right when he wasn't in the Batsuit. The suit has become a place of refuge for Bruce after Rachel's untimely death. He didn't want to face the world as Bruce Wayne, so he faced it with fists flying into the jaws of criminals every night. An outlet. A place to stay grounded and not think about how he failed Rachel and Harvey Dent.
How he failed Jim Gordon.
Failed Gotham.
Bruce never spoke of these things, not to Alfred not Lucius Fox... Not to anyone. He kept them bottled up inside, pent up for nights he could just release all his emotions and do some good for the city that had turned it's back on him.
Everything or nothing, and Bruce gave everything.
The problem now was he wasn't sure what he would be able to achieve with Jim Gordon having stepped down from his position as commissioner. It might have been a temporary leave, but it meant that Gotham would have a temporary Commissioner. And Bruce would have no one; not one ally or friend. No one.
And Bruce knew that he couldn't feel anger towards Gordon, because the man had good reason for taking the actions he did and taking a leave. His family – his wife – needed him. Where Bruce couldn't quite relate, having lost his parents when he was nine, he knew that it was a hard decision to chose between the two things that meant the most to Gordon. Gotham would always be there, waiting for the day Gordon returned and ready to haunt his dreams once again. But his wife would not always be there, and Bruce had hacked enough files when he returned home last night, to know.
Barbara Gordon's chemotherapy treatment was a humble approach from her doctors to give her some hope of living through the cancer, even if it was unlikely. She had what was known as stage three lung cancer that had gone detected for too long. The cancer had spread to the lymph nodes surrounding her heart, and there was risk that the cancer could spread even further.
If Bruce felt anything about the situation it was pity for and sympathy for Gordon's two kids. Losing a parent was hard and he knew first hand just how difficult it was going to be on them. He wished there was more he could do, but outside of Batman, Bruce knew nothing of the Gordons and offering money to help for the best procedures would seem all but curious. Not to mention Gordon was a proud man and would never accept charity from a man the likes of Bruce Wayne.
So, there was nothing he could do without drawing unneeded attention to both he and Jim Gordon. But that didn't mean he wouldn't be around to check on them, to be sure things were going well and to see how Gordon was handling everything. With so much stress on the man's shoulders now to take care of his kids, his wife, and run the household, Bruce was sure Gordon was going to run himself ragged. This wasn't like stress from work, this was stress of holding everything the family was made of together.
Bruce had a feeling Gordon was going to need more support than he was letting on and Bruce wasn't sure if he was going to be able to be the one to give it to him. It was one thing to be a loving and semi-decent, caring person as Bruce Wayne, but it was another thing to be that person as Batman.
And Gordon only knew Batman, not Bruce.
Despite it all, Bruce knew he could try to be there for him, in some way or form. Jim Gordon was, after all, the closest thing he had to a friend.
-----
The first doctor's appointment Jim Gordon went to with his wife was more devastating than he thought it would have been. The doctors told Barbara if she had any chance of beating the cancer completely it would be with surgery first and then chemotherapy and radiation therapy. The surgery would be to see how bad the cancer had spread, if any of it could be removed and a catheter placed in the upper cavity of her chest near a larger vein; this would help the rounds of chemotherapy and radiation therapy be a lot less strenuous. Of course, none of it was a promise that any of it would work. Barbara's cancer was worse than they originally assumed and after taking more x-rays, it was obvious the cancer had spreading to both lungs.
What bothered Gordon the most was that neither of them ever caught on to her not feeling well sooner, or getting sick more often. Or least nothing she complained about. Sure, she coughed a lot in the past, but being that they were both smokers it was normal for that to happen. How could they have been so naïve about this? How did they let this happen? How did he let this happen? Gordon knew that if he had spent more time at home, more time with around his family that maybe he would have seen the signs sooner.
Barbara grabbed his arm as they left the doctor's officer after having set an appointment for her surgery. “Don't, Jim. Don't blame yourself. I know that's what you're thinking,” she whispered as she looped her arm in his and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked to the car.
“How can I not blame myself? If I had been more aware I might have noticed the little things,” he whispered back to her, nudging her head with his for a brief moment. It was an awkward walk to the car in the position they were in, but none of it mattered.
They arrived at the car and he opened the door for her, helping her in. She pushed at him to let go and gave him a quick grin. The last few days she insisted that she could still do everything herself, that she didn't feel tired or weak, and that she wanted to be able to do things while she still could. Gordon admired his wife for that, but he couldn't help be feel if he didn't help her – didn't take care of her – then she would only get worse. He knew it was silly to think, but he couldn't quite get it out of his head.
He shut the door behind her and walked around to the other side of the car and got in. He started the car and as they drove off towards home, he wondered just how they were going to tell Jimmy and Barbara. The idea was to not tell them until they knew the chemotherapy was working or not, but it seemed obvious that that notion all together was wrong – their kids deserved to know the truth.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe their children were more mature than they assumed and would be able to handle the news. Even if they weren't, they had to know. Gordon looked over at his wife who was looking at her hands, obviously deep in her own thoughts. He looked back to the road and then sighed.
“How do you think Babs and Jimmy will react?” Gordon asked softly. Barbara didn't move, but he heard her let our a little sigh of her own.
“They're both old enough to understand the issues of life and that bad things happen, Jim. We live in Gotham, they can't not know that that,” Barbara said, her voice was strong as if she had practiced this conversation before. He didn't know what else to say to that, it rested his fears he might have had with his kids, but he was still so scared about their reactions if their mother did die.
Gordon was briefly reminded of another child who had lost his parents in a much more grueling manner: Bruce Wayne. He was about nine or ten when it happened, if Gordon could remember correctly. He remembered the look in Wayne's eyes, the sadness and depression that had started to set in after the shock and realization had passed. He heard stories of Wayne for years after that, how he caused trouble, attempted a lot of daring acts and landed himself in the hospital quite a few times. Even so far as to get thrown out of Princeton and then disappear a few days later to not be seen for seven years. Gordon thought the kid had finally killed himself, done the deed that would take him back to a time when he was happy. Bring him back to his parents.
To everyone's surprise, Wayne showed up seven years later acting as if he had never left and taking control of his father's company. There was no sign of the little boy Gordon had comforted all those years ago. Wayne even managed to burn down Wayne Manor, proving that whatever was left of his parents truly didn't matter. Wayne had not turned out the way Gordon, or anyone else who had watched him for years from afar, would have liked him to.
Gordon didn't want that with his children. He wanted them to remember their mother, if she passed, for who she was and what she did and not mourn the way Wayne had. No one should feel that way.
“They'll be fine, Jim.”
-----
And Barbara was right. Babs cried with her mother, as was expected and Jimmy stood there with his eyes focused on his mother, but said nothing. It was typical, Gordon thought, for a teenage boy to fear emotion, much less show them in front of his family when he was on the verge of proving himself to be a man. Gordon wasn't worried, and even less so when he walked passed his son's room that evening and heard sobbing.
He told Barbara and she had smiled at him warmly. “He wants to be strong for all of us, Jim. I can't blame him for that. Someone needs to be.” She hugged him tightly as they lay in bed together, watching the moonlit shadows wave across the ceiling. “I should tell you something,” she whispered. He held her a little closer, taking her head and rest it on his chest and he relaxed himself into a comfortable position.
“And what is that, sweetheart?” Gordon asked softly, running his fingers through her soft hair.
“I'm not scared of death. I know in the long run, no matter how many surgeries, and no matter how much chemotherapy they try it won't make a difference. They're only buying me a little more time.” Her was strong again, as it had been earlier and Gordon knew she had been thinking about this too for quite some time. His leaned and kissed her forehead softly, not wanting to think about it, but it was looming there and he knew the subject would never be dropped.
“Barbara, please,” he started to say and she placed a hand over his lips, and in the dark he could barely make out her form, but he knew she was crying from the shallow breaths he was hearing. He took her hand into his and kissed it, then moving to her lips and kissing her softly. If she was right, and she wasn't going to live through this, then he would show her that despite all the years he worked late hours, he was here for her and that he loved her.
-----
“Dad?” Babs asked from the kitchen table, stabbing at her eggs. Gordon looked over at her from behind his newspaper, raising an eyebrow.
“What are Mom's chances really? She said they were good, but I'm not stupid, Dad.” Babs asked, putting her fork down and folding her hands in front of her and looking at her father pointedly.
Gordon sighed, putting his newspaper down and copying his daughter's pose. “It's really only a matter of time. The chemotherapy might give her a few more months, but your mother doesn't seem to think it will be much.”
Babs nodded, lowering her eyes back to her food. “Do you think Mom would like to go to the beach today?” Most occasions Gordon would have thought this was a another random idea of Babs, but he could see she just wanted her mother to relax and enjoy what she had left.
Gordon nodded. “I'm sure she would love that, sweetie. Why don't you go see if Jimmy wants to go, too.”
Babs smiled and pushed away from the table, heading towards the bedrooms. Gordon was pretty proud of his children, but he still worried, mostly about Jimmy. He didn't want Jimmy to recluse, to hide his feelings, to hide from everyone. To hide his own pain. If they kept pushing forward and including him, maybe it wouldn't end up that way.
----
The next few days went by rather slowly. The day approaching for the surgery and Gordon found the family talked less and less about the issue, especially around Jimmy. Gordon didn't mind, he didn't want to think about the consequences and the what-if's. He just wanted to enjoy the time as a family until they had to put everything aside and place all their thoughts and prayers on Barbara. Even an extra month would be better than nothing.
Babs and Jimmy had gotten done with school that week, so now they sat with their father in the waiting room as their mother went in for surgery. Jimmy was playing with his Nintendo DS and Babs was reading a book while curled up in a corner chair. Gordon had out his cell phone and was checking his texts and voice mail messages.
Stephens had left him a message to say that the Mayor appointed Michael Atkins as Commissioner for the time that Gordon was gone. Which, honestly, Gordon didn't know when he would return. Why did he feel he was letting down his team and city? No, it wasn't them he was worried about, it was Batman. The man had said he would be by to check up, but in the last week he hadn't seen nor heard from him, let alone heard of any sightings.
Maybe Batman was getting wise and staying low for a while. Gotham was not a safe place for the vigilante without Gordon there to give him inside intel. Or maybe it was that Batman was angry with him for stepping down and taking a leave without even consulting him first. Doubtful, but possible. Still, he did wish he could at least talk to Batman, have someone else to talk to during this time. He knew that Batman wouldn't give condolences or words he wanted to hear, he would just listen to whatever Gordon wanted to talk about.
But after today, he wasn't sure if he would want to talk at all.
His thoughts drifted back to Barbara and somehow he knew in his heart he needed to be ready to let go. Maybe not today, but soon. He looked over at Jimmy and then to Babs, each in their own little world pretending, just as he was, that nothing was wrong. For a little while longer all three of them could pretend and just be.
-----
Barbara made I through the surgery, however the cancer had spread more than they had anticipated and weren't able to remove anything that would help her live longer. Her only hope now was that the chemotherapy did some good. It made Gordon more regretful of his job, his work, what he thought was his life. But his real life, his family, was falling apart. Jimmy had started to hide from them, going into his room when he had the chance, locking himself in only to come out (rarely at that) for meals. It didn't seem to bug Barbara, she seemed to understand that Jimmy was having a hard time.
Babs however spent every moment she could with her mother, even when her friends called to hang out. Barbara, who had started to go into the hospital once every two weeks for the past month now for her chemotherapy treatments. Babs had told him that her Mother's hair had started to thin out a bit, as she helped her brush it every morning. Thinning wasn't what Gordon would have called that, it was starting to fall out completely, but Barbara didn't seem to notice much. She did however complain that her chest hurt, and that she was constantly tired and fatigued after only being awake a few hours. She could barely walk without being short of breath and it soon got to the point that she didn't go anywhere with out someone helping her.
The worst of the side effects, Gordon noticed, was the random mood swings as the chemicals altered his wife's system. She would snap at him for folding laundry wrong to only cry and apologize later. He didn't once snap back at her; he knew it wasn't her fault.
There was only so much Gordon could do when he wasn't taking Barbara to her doctor's appointments or her therapy sessions.. He cleaned the house, and took care of unfinished business he had been meaning to for a while now. Jimmy was slowly getting worse, even skipping meals. Barbara assure Gordon that the teenage boy just needed some time to find his own way to cope. Still, Gordon found himself worrying more and more. Months went by and he could isolated and stuck, but he wouldn't have had any other way than to be at his wife's side.
It was to the point that one night while Barbara was in their bed and Babs was curled up next to her reading one of their favorite books out loud, that Gordon went out to the front porch to sit and have a moment where he didn't have to think about anyone else. He had been so worried and so wrapped up in everyone else's well being that he often forgot to take a moment for himself. In fact, he was sure he forgot to sleep the night before at all.
They meshed together now and he couldn't really remember if had slept or not.
He sat down on the steps leading down to the sidewalk and watched the beginning of first rain of the fall start to splatter against the sidewalks. He hadn't had a moment like this, a few minutes to himself, in weeks – maybe even months. Since the kids went back to school it was harder to get things done and take care of Barbara.
There was just so much stress. And even this moment felt like it was going to pass too quickly.
“How are things?” rasped a voice from his left. Gordon lifted his head to look at Batman squatted on the railing near the rafters – his usual spot.
Gordon took off his glasses, placing them on the stair next ot him. He rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Fine,” he lied, and he heard Batman make a slight scoffing noise, as if he knew better. “Okay, not fine. Everything is falling apart. I spend so much time taking care of Barb that I have to get everything else done when she and the kids have gone to bed. I'm not even sure what day it is anymore.”
“Thursday,” Batman stated. Gordon watched the figure of Batman shift slightly, as if uneasy. “You should rest, Jim. Get some help.”
“Help? I can't afford to hire anyone. Our families live too far away. Friends are too afraid to come around now, afraid they'll get Barb sick. There is no help.” Gordon held his head in his hands, staring down at the blurry steps below him. Was Batman actually suggesting this? Gordon wanted to be irritated, but the man was just trying to make conversation and offer some advice.
There was a silence, as if Batman was contemplating something. “I'm sorry,” as if those words would make everything better, and really, they didn't. Gordon had heard the phrase one too many times in the past four months, since they found out.
Gordon shook his head. “Don't. Last thing I need is sympathy from a man who dressed up as a giant bat.” He turned his head towards the shadow that was the vigilante, but found that he had left. Typical and perfectly normal. At least somethings hadn't changed.
-----
That was the only time he saw Batman during the first few months of Barbara's treatments. Christmas had come up on them rather quick, and the kids understood that it would be a very light Christmas due to them not having too much money. They were living off Gordon's family leave income and what Barbara was getting from disability at her part time job at the law office as secretary, but she wasn't bound to go back. In fact, Gordon was sure she was never going back. The chemotherapy and the few rounds of radiation they had tried only seemed to drag her time out a little further.
Barbara had lost all of her hair, gone to wearing one of those scarves to keep her head warm. She spent most of the time on the couch in the living room reading or snuggling with Gordon, because that was what she wanted. He wasn't about to deny her anything. They both knew that the chemotherapy wasn't doing any good, it had prolonged her health for an inevitable amount of time. When did they say it was enough and let be, be?
They really let the doctors decide there. So far, the doctors seemed to think that it would still work, that her body could fight it off. But Barbara knew better, knew her body was slowly taking a turn and the chemicals weren't really making anything better.
At least they would have Christmas.
----
Christmas evening Barbara went to bed early, Babs was cleaning up from dinner and Jimmy had stowed himself away in his room with all his new video games. The teenage boy was still hiding from them, more so than ever now. He rarely talked, often went to friends' houses when he wasn't at school and avoided his mother as if she was a bad plague. Gordon wanted to slap some sense into his son, but Barbara reassured him that she was fine with it, that Jimmy really just needed to deal with things on his own terms.
But what happened when his mother did die, because that was inevitable now, and he never got to tell her how he felt, or see her one last time or spend the time he should have spent with her? The guilt he knew his son was going to feel would be overwhelming. If he son felt anything. Gordon wasn't sure anymore.
Gordon took a moment and looked at the cell phone Batman had given him over six months ago. He hadn't used, hadn't needed to... Hadn't had the time. It would seem silly to call now and wish the man a Merry Christmas. He put the phone back into his pocket, looking out the window at the houses decorated with bright lights, now covered in a new blanket of snow. He thought maybe Batman would be out tonight, maybe he would come by. But with the snow, he hoped Batman was inside keeping warm instead.
If Batman was still around at all. No one had heard from him. No sightings. Nothing. The city was falling apart again, slowly, and Gordon didn't need to be kept in the loop at the station to know that. The city needed Batman and he wasn't around.
Gordon knew that was his fault. Without an ally, Batman had no way of doing his job efficiently. And Gordon had heard some stories about the new acting Commissioner, Michael Atkins, giving the order to shoot Batman on sight, something that “Gordon should have issued a long time ago”. Rumors were that Atkins would be good for city, but so far, the criminal level was high and Gordon knew it was only a matter of time before the city went under again.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
He stepped out onto the front porch, watching the new flakes of snow fall softly to the ground. His city needed him, but he couldn't give her what she needed. He had priorities and it was an indefinite amount of time until he knew for sure he could go back to his job. He sighed, starting to head back inside when he heard the scuffing of boots on the porch a few feet from him. He looked over, seeing Batman, oddly enough, standing there.
“Sometimes I think you're psychic,” Gordon mumbled, shutting the front door again. Batman shrugged, but didn't move. Gordon stuffed his hands into his pocket to keep them warm. “Merry Christmas.” It did sound weird to say, but it did warrant him a soft smile, if that's what he could call it, from Batman.
“You too,” Batman responded, but his voice wasn't the usual rasp, it was a little lighter today. Another moment passed and Batman actually took a step forward into the porch light and Gordon could actually see his eyes, something that didn't happen often. “How are you holding up?” It was never about the Barbara when he did hear from Batman, it was always about Gordon. Maybe that was because Batman knew like the rest of the family that Barbara's fate was inevitable.
“Tried. Stressed. The usual,” Gordon answered. “It's going to happen soon, I know it is. And I told myself I would be ready, but I don't think I am. I don't want to have to let go.” It was the most he had said to anyone about how he felt. He didn't Barbara because he didn't want her to know that he was weaker than she thought. Batman looked him over sympathetically and after an odd few seconds the Bat placed a gloved hand on Gordon's shoulder and pulled him towards him.
Gordon hadn't expected it. The Bat had pulled Gordon into a hug, awkward and bit uncomfortable with the Kevlar mashing between them. But it was the idea and the notion that caught Gordon's attention and brought his defenses down. He found he didn't care then if Batman saw him cry, because God knew if anyone did see it, why not the man he trusted to protect his own family?
-----
Shortly after the first of the year Barbara was taken into the hospital. The cancer had spread again and the doctors finally gave the okay to take her off the therapy all together. Gordon knew it had been coming, and Barbara seemed at peace with it. Babs spent what time she had after school sitting with her mom before Gordon told her to take her and Jimmy home, do their homework and get to bed. He stayed with his wife and asked the neighbor to keep an eye on the kids while he wasn't there.
The doctors said there were only a few days, if that, left before Barbara passed. They gave her painkillers to ease whatever discomfort she was having, and she spent most of her time sleeping or watching television with Gordon. He didn't mind. They had a few conversations, mostly about the past, their marriage, their weddings, their first dates, when the kids were born. Gordon held himself together the best he could.
And still, through it all, he was so stressed. He would have to plan a funeral, a memorial, file paperwork, figure out how to take care of the kids while going back to work. Why was he thinking about this? Was it normal to think about this while his wife was dying? Denial, maybe? Or just worry. Everything.
----
Barbara sat up in her hospital bed, watching whatever was on the television while Jim paced the room. They were waiting for Jimmy to be dropped off by his friend's mother, he had called and said he wanted to see her that day. Barbara always knew at some point Jimmy would break and move forward with his feelings. She also knew that he had caused his father a lot of stress over it, but Jim would understand at some point that the teenager just needed his space to figure things out.
The door opened and Jimmy walked in, placing his book bag on the chair. He pulled out a deck of cards and pulled up another chair next to Barbara's side. Jim smiled and left the room. Jimmy shuffled the cards and smiled at her.
“Go fish?” he asked, knowing that that was their favorite game when he was younger. She nodded. It was hard to play with two people, but it didn't really matter. Her son was wanting to spend time with her and she would take what she could get it.
After a minutes of playing, Jimmy looked up at her curiously. “Does it hurt, Mom?”
“Not so much anymore. They're giving me something for it,” she responded, giving him a weak little smile. He continued to look at her with determination on his face.
“Did it hurt before? The treatments that is?” he inquired this time, and she placed her hand of cards down and took a hold of his.
“It didn't really hurt... it was, I can't even explain how it felt. Exhausted and weak. It was all worth it though, to spend just a little more time with you and Babs and your Dad.” She wanted Jimmy to know she wasn't scared now and that she regretted nothing, not even him not really communicating with any of them for six months.
Jimmy lowered his head, shamefully. “I'm sorry.” He sighed and she squeezed his hand. After a few minutes he looked back up at her, tears in his eyes. “Were you scared? Are you scared now?”
“At first, a little, maybe. More scared for you and Babs, leaving you with your Dad. But I think he can handle it.” She took a deep breath, the soreness in her chest felt like a brick. She had pain medication but it didn't always take the complete edge off. “Now? Now I'm just tired and I find it so hard to even move or stay awake most of the time. So, no. I'm not scared, Jimmy. It's been a good experience and I know the rest of you will come off stronger for it as well.”
He nodded and they finished their game silence.
-----
It was at the end of the first week and Gordon was standing in the hall, leaning his head back against the wall with his eyes closed. He was so tired. He hadn't slept, hadn't really in months anyway. He didn't eat, sick with worry and stress. Every part of him ached and his head felt like it was in a deep fog. He thought for sure he would fall asleep right there, waiting on the doctors to check over his wife. She had been breathing unsteadily and they wanted to check her vitals.
Everyone knew she was dying, so why they bothered to worry about such things, Gordon wouldn't know. He thought if Barbara had any say, she would want to go in peace and not hooked to machines. He'd take her out of here if he felt he could handle taking care of her himself for the next however many days she had left. But the truth was he could barely take care of himself, let alone his wife. How pathetic was that?
He heard the rustle of feet pass him and he didn't think about it, he was so tired. But when he heard the door of his wife's room open and the voices grow more frantic, he opened his eyes and knew that everything at that moment had changed. Everything slowed and the world around his family finally made the last crash into reality.
----
Jim Gordon made all the plans himself; the funeral, the memorial, calling of all relatives, paying all the bills and closing accounts. He did everything. By the time the funeral came, he had barely had time to catch up on anything besides the business surrounding his now departed wife. He had no sleep and he was so thin now that even his daughter was trying to push food on him, but it felt so weird to put anything in his mouth, and it made him sick to really think about eating at all.
The funeral was small, he left it that way purposely so that it was close friends and family, and the kids wouldn't have to deal too many people they didn't know offering the same condolences they had kept hearing from everyone over the last seven months. The memorial afterwards had a few more people, mostly co-workers of Barbara and Gordon, and they all just kept crowding him, Babs and Jimmy. Jimmy finally had enough and left. Babs stayed with her Dad, to be sure he would stay sane. She held onto his arm with her hands tightly, staying close.
Gordon was listening to Renee Montoya talk about something to do with the precinct and some loony criminal they were having trouble catching, when Gordon felt an unease in the middle of his chest, a pressure that started to build. He started to feel pain in his back, and he was sure the stress was getting to him. He put a hand to his head as his eye sight started to blur a little, and his head began to feel light. Babs squeezed his arm.
“Dad, you don't look so well. Do you need to sit down?” she asked as a few other people had started to voice their own concern. Gordon went to respond, but the pain from his back had moved to his left arm, and it felt like he was struggling for air when he knew he was breathing fine. He brought his other hands up to either to his own shoulder or chest, he couldn't really tell which, and Babs had helped him to the floor and heard someone yell to call for ambulance. He was fine, right? Of course, a little panic attack was surely all it was.
Except when the pain worsened he was sure it wasn't that panic plaguing him. He focused a little on Babs' blue eyes and he couldn't hear her anymore, but he was sure she was telling him to stay calm. And then everything felt like a swirl of pain in his chest and his vision blacked out.