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Momentum:
Chapter Eleven
written by destinyawakened
Gordon returned home later that afternoon. Babs was home already and working on her homework and Jimmy was in the living room watching television. Neither of them raised their head when he entered. He saw that the dishes had been done, the floors cleaned and vacuumed. He looked over Babs' shoulder, she was working on her Government. He then stood behind the couch, watching whatever Jimmy had on the television, some odd cartoon. Jimmy looked up at him, smiled and went back to his show.
“Home work done, son?” Gordon asked and Jimmy just nodded his head. Well, at least he was getting his work done without being asked to, and at least he acknowledged Gordon this time, where as in the past months he plain ignored everyone. “Good.”
He stood between the kitchen and the living room, suddenly aware that even though he had spent the entire day downtown with Wayne, there was still nothing to do. His kids did all the chores when they returned from school and all that was left was to think about making dinner. He sat down at the table next to Babs just as she closed her book and put her pencil down. She smiled at him, stretching her arms.
“Where you been?” she asked, taking a deep breath. Gordon shrugged his shoulders.
“Out. I didn't feel like sitting around the house all day, again.” He folded his hands on the table in front of him. Babs smirked at him. Despite their run in the other day with the man who broke into their house, she was doing well. She and Jimmy had learned to cope with people like that since the incident with Dent. Still, Batman offered to swing by once or twice a night to check the neighborhood, which was nice but not directly needed. Couldn't deny the vigilante – he would do it anyway.
“Bruce, again?” Babs asked, breaking his thoughts for a moment. Gordon narrowed his eyes on her, wondering how she might have guessed that. “Oh, come on, Dad. You're only other friends are Gerry, Harvey, and Renee, and they only come by when they need you. If you actually talked to them more I might assume one of them first.”
“Yes, I had lunch with Bruce,” Gordon admitted to his daughter. She shook her head, smiling.
“I like, Bruce. I think he brings out a good side of you,” Babs said as she put her books back into her backpack.
“What do you mean 'a good side' of me?” Gordon questioned, curiously. Babs picked up her backpack and placed it by the front door, walking back towards Gordon she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, taking a seat on his lap; it had been a long time since she'd done that. She looked down into Gordon's eyes seriously.
“Don't take this the wrong way, but since Mom died you've been sulking around the house like a man without any drive or passion. You were a real downer. But ever since we saw Bruce at the cemetery and invited him over, you've had a different air about you. You seem more relaxed, willing to have fun, teasing more.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You're back to being the 'Dad' before Mom died, just without all working.”
Gordon gazed at his daughter, searching her eyes and seeing that every word she said came directly from her heart. She was a smart kid, took notice of a lot of things and filed them away. She was a lot like him. If she ever wanted to be a detective, she'd be damn good at it; Gordon didn't wish that on her though. He hugged her tightly to him and then let her go, and she slid off his lap.
“It's a good thing, Dad. Trust me. You can invite Bruce over any time. Jimmy and I both find him entertaining and if he's a good friend to you, then that's even better.” Babs moved over to the kitchen counter and pulled a book from the row of cookbooks. She brought it back to the table and began to flip through it.
Gordon was still staring at his daughter. She looked up at him, blinked. “How'd you get to be so smart?” he asked her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair.
She laughed, flipping another page and looking through it. “I'm just observant. I guess if I inherited anything from you, it was that.” She flipped a few more pages. Gordon didn't respond. “So, what do you want to make for dinner tonight? I'm pretty sick of left over spaghetti.”
Gordon scooted his chair over next to her, looking over the book with her. This was another one of her mother's favorite cookbooks. “We'll have to go to the store if we want to make anything. There's no food in the house.”
Babs looked over at Gordon slyly. “Did you want to invite Bruce over? I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping again.” Gordon glared at her and her smile widened.
“He's actually busy this evening. Said he had an important meeting to attend,” Gordon answered. He wouldn't have minded Babs' proposal if Wayne had actually been free to come over. Gordon wasn't sure what important meetings a billionaire had to do in the evening, but he assumed it was a dinner meeting of some kind. Before he had even gotten to know Wayne, Gordon would have never guessed he even went to meetings. Gordon was quite impressed that Wayne had a lot more involvement in his companies than the media let on.
In fact, everything the media went on about with Wayne seemed to be a big lie. Wayne admitted that the last real date he had that he actually cared about had been over a year ago. He also mentioned not liking polo that much at all, and that Alfred had made him take it up. Gordon had thought it odd that Wayne's butler would even ask him to take up polo. Wayne said it was for appearances, that he was a billionaire who needed to get involved with things that billionaire's did. Gordon had thought that odd, too; there were much better things a billionaire could do to fit in with the hobnob society. There had to be something else to the polo bit, Gordon just couldn't place it.
“That's too bad,” Babs said. “Well, then why don't we just order out?” She closed the book. Gordon couldn't help but think she had been using the cookbook as a device to get her father to invite his new 'friend' over. “Pizza?”
Gordon sighed, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. “You and Jimmy pick, no fighting over it.” He handed her his credit card and she went off to discuss dinner with her younger brother. Gordon sighed; pizza was becoming a regular thing of the Gordon household. He knew he'd end up just eating salad in the refrigerator.
----
Later that evening Gordon stood out in the backyard, looking over the newly fixed window the man that had broken into their house had smashed. Things like this usually set a lot of people on edge with worry and concern, but for Gordon it wasn't anything new. This was Gotham after all, things like this – and worse – happened everyday. Even in his retirement he worried about the city and he just couldn't help it.
“Do you come out here just to see if I'm going to stop by?” came a familiar rasp from behind him. Gordon shrugged; he didn't turn around because he knew who it was, by voice alone and the chilling goosebumps that crawled on his skin every time the man's shadow was cast over him.
“Sometimes. It's a good thinking spot, too. Back here is a little more private than out front. Mrs. Thompson has been poking her nose around a lot more lately,” Gordon explained, shaking his head. He finally turned around, looking at the armor clad man standing next to Gordon's rose bushes. Batman just looked at him, as if to ask him to explain. Gordon sighed, placing on hand on his hip and the using the other to gesture in the air a bit. “Bruce Wayne has been by a few times and she's like every other woman in the city. She'd probably kill her own husband for the chance just to lick Wayne's feet.”
A rather congested sounding snort came from the Bat as he brought a gloved hand to his mouth to try and brush it off as a cough. Gordon placed his other hand on his hip and stared at the vigilante. He almost liked it better when Batman didn't laugh, smile or make sarcastic remarks at him. Almost. Who was he was kidding, he liked it. It showed a side of the man that he would have never thought existed. He knew the man loved – that was one thing that was obvious so many years ago when the Joker was on the loose – with Rachel Dawes....
Now why did that feel weird to think about? Hadn't that name been brought up just the other day with Wayne? Dawes had been pretty popular, having been the Assistant DA to Harvey Dent, and his fiancé. A lot of people new Dawes, but Gordon vividly remembered Batman being more than upset over her death when he found she didn't get out of the building before it blew. Exactly what had Dawes been to Batman? What exactly had Dawes been to Wayne? Gordon knew they had been friends, but had there been something more?
“Jim?” Batman asked, bringing Gordon out of his own thoughts. He was sure now that he was thinking this through a little too much, there couldn't be this much mystery around one man; and he wasn't talking Batman. Gordon sighed and Batman took a step closer to him. “Everything okay?”
“Just a lot on my mind. You'd think with being retired that there wouldn't be a lot to worry about.” Gordon went and down on the bench that over looked his slowly wilting garden. He hadn't been in the mood to tend to it lately, Babs would be disappointed when she saw.
“Your children?” Batman asked stepping around in front of the bench, facing Gordon.
“No,” Gordon said, looking up at Batman at the light from the porch caught the vigilante's eyes. Gordon gestured his hand in the air in some annoyance, as if he couldn't even believe the words about to come out of his mouth. “Bruce Wayne.”
Batman stared at Gordon, unmoving. His eyes were fixed on Gordon intensely, as if searching for an answer. Gordon expected some kind of scoff or another snort of laughter, but nothing ever came from the vigilante's mouth. Gordon clasped his hand in front of him, looking down at the dirt for a moment.
“I'm sure you know enough about Wayne, who doesn't?” Gordon started to say, and even then Batman didn't flinch or move. Gordon nodded, figuring Batman did. “Only eight, maybe nearly nine, when his parents died. I felt so bad for him. What child should have to go through the pain of seeing their parents shot and killed in front of their very eyes?” Gordon took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the fingers on his free hand. “That's beside the point. My point is, I know he doesn't do the things the newspaper and television media says he does, he's even admitted to most of that being lies. But I can't help but think that he's into some dangerous stuff – I'm not sure what, but it can't be good.”
Batman's stand stiffened, if that were even possible. “What makes you think that?”
Gordon placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “He admits to having secrets. Noticed he was injured the other day. He claimed it was golf, but I don't need to be a golfer to know that you can't get an injury that causes that much pain from swinging a club.” Gordon placed both hands down on the bench, kicking at the dirt below his feet. “I know I shouldn't worry, he's a grown man. But I can't help but feel like I need to protect him, be there for him. That's probably how I got roped into helping him with that damn charity auction.”
“I'm sure he's not doing anything dangerous,” Batman said plainly. Gordon looked up at him again, curiously. “I can check in on him if you –”
Gordon cut him off. “No. You're probably right.” Gordon shook his head. “I'd just hate to see something awful happen to him like what happened to his parents. After seeing bits and pieces of who Wayne really is, he doesn't deserve that.”
“No one does,” Batman commented. He took a few steps over to Gordon, kneeling down in front of him so that they were just about face-to-face. “I don't think it's something you need to worry about though. From what I've seen Wayne has enough security to hold off a small army.”
But that wasn't really what Gordon was worried about with Wayne. If the injuries the man hadn't weren't golf related, or polo since he mentioned hating polo, then it could have been a number of things that might have even led to illegal activities. And those often led to the mob, gangs, druggies... every possible and horrible thing Gordon could think of. He knew Wayne didn't have security with him all the time, like that afternoon when they went out. Or at his dinner dates. Or at the Gordon house. In fact, he was sure the only time Wayne had security of any kind was when he was his office.
This wasn't worth talking about with Batman anymore. If Wayne was getting into something illegal, the last thing Gordon needed was Batman hot on his trail. There wasn't even any evidence the billionaire was doing any of that, so why worry the vigilante with such notions?
Gordon sighed again. Change of subject. “How's that case? I haven't heard from anyone at the PD since Monday. I guess they figure since I'm not on the force I must be out of the loop completely.”
Batman stood up again, pacing. Gordon wasn't sure he'd ever seen Batman pace; comforting somehow. “He's not talking, according to Stephens. Atkins won't allow any further interrogation and the man has his lawyer. He'd rather take all the jail time being thrown at him than give up the name of his boss.”
“A standstill. Again,” Gordon said. He had the feeling that Atkins wasn't giving anyone at MCU the proper time or paperwork to get the job done. If they took the time to break this guy down, then they would get the name of his boss in no time. Atkins was playing everything safe. One couldn't do that in Gotham City, you either took chances or you died from not trying hard enough. Gordon almost hoped it did kill the man, it would serve him right.
“I'm still searching, looking for others that might know something. But I'm starting to come up short, there isn't much left.” Batman squeezed his gloved hands tightly into fists, and Gordon could tell the case would only get worse before it got better.
“Maybe you need to look outside the box,” Gordon suggested, scooting over on the bench and motioning for Batman to sit. Batman took the few steps from Gordon and sat down. Gordon shifted his position so he was facing the vigilante. “You're checking all the officers at the PD, all the people who work for and used to work the crime labs, the investigation units. You know it's an inside job, the evident points to it. So what if its really right in front of you?”
Batman shook his head. “Jim, I know it's not you.”
Gordon rolled his eyes at the Bat and gave him a slightly offended push on the armor over his chest. “Not me,” Gordon said. “For Christ sake. I just meant that its likely going to be the person you least expect. Stephens, Montoya, and Bullock... I can vouch for them. But anyone else is fair game.”
They held each other's gazes for a moment longer than was usually comfortable. They both knew what the other was thinking, and that was how much the city really needed Jim Gordon. There was no one else so dedicated to their work than him. Hell, he might as well have been working while retired, consulting like old times with the vigilante no one knew was on their side. Gordon didn't want to say, didn't want admit it again, but Batman didn't let him.
“This city needs you, Jim,” Batman said somberly. They had let go of the eye contact yet, and even though Gordon felt he needed to, that he should, he didn't. Batman leaned towards Gordon, grabbing his left hand tightly. The rasp that he usually used vanished into a graveled whisper. “I need you. I can't keep doing this without you.”
Gordon thought for sure his heart had jumped into his throat, a lump forming so big that he couldn't even being to think about swallowing. He knew when he retired that it would be hard on everyone connected to him, and hardest of all on Batman. They had become partners in a war with the city that was never going to end, and yet they managed through for five years – even with the hunt for Batman on going. He really should have known better than to assume the vigilante would go on as if nothing had changed.
“But you'll have to,” Gordon answered, finding himself gravitating inches closer to Batman, his hand still firmly grasped between strong leathered fingers. Gordon felt a lightness in his chest, and fought his free hand for a place to rest until it found its way to Batman's left arm. Batman breathed a strangled sigh, as if debating with himself, the same inner emotions that Gordon feeling toiling around in his stomach. The Bat's gloved left hand was hovering dangerously next to Gordon's face.
“I don't want to,” Batman growled, biting the tip of his glove with his teeth and tossing it to the ground. He reached over again and this time his fingertips grazed Gordon's face in the gentler touch than he had expected. Batman's hand was completely over the right side of Gordon's face, thumb caressing his cheek, as their an unstoppable force seemed to bring their faces together, almost...
“Dad?” Gordon heard Jimmy say from the back door. Batman had immediately stood, picking up his glove and putting it back on. Jimmy walked out the door, the phone in his hands. He looked at Batman slowly, a smile growing on his face. He handed the phone to his father. “Phone call.”
“Home work done, son?” Gordon asked and Jimmy just nodded his head. Well, at least he was getting his work done without being asked to, and at least he acknowledged Gordon this time, where as in the past months he plain ignored everyone. “Good.”
He stood between the kitchen and the living room, suddenly aware that even though he had spent the entire day downtown with Wayne, there was still nothing to do. His kids did all the chores when they returned from school and all that was left was to think about making dinner. He sat down at the table next to Babs just as she closed her book and put her pencil down. She smiled at him, stretching her arms.
“Where you been?” she asked, taking a deep breath. Gordon shrugged his shoulders.
“Out. I didn't feel like sitting around the house all day, again.” He folded his hands on the table in front of him. Babs smirked at him. Despite their run in the other day with the man who broke into their house, she was doing well. She and Jimmy had learned to cope with people like that since the incident with Dent. Still, Batman offered to swing by once or twice a night to check the neighborhood, which was nice but not directly needed. Couldn't deny the vigilante – he would do it anyway.
“Bruce, again?” Babs asked, breaking his thoughts for a moment. Gordon narrowed his eyes on her, wondering how she might have guessed that. “Oh, come on, Dad. You're only other friends are Gerry, Harvey, and Renee, and they only come by when they need you. If you actually talked to them more I might assume one of them first.”
“Yes, I had lunch with Bruce,” Gordon admitted to his daughter. She shook her head, smiling.
“I like, Bruce. I think he brings out a good side of you,” Babs said as she put her books back into her backpack.
“What do you mean 'a good side' of me?” Gordon questioned, curiously. Babs picked up her backpack and placed it by the front door, walking back towards Gordon she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, taking a seat on his lap; it had been a long time since she'd done that. She looked down into Gordon's eyes seriously.
“Don't take this the wrong way, but since Mom died you've been sulking around the house like a man without any drive or passion. You were a real downer. But ever since we saw Bruce at the cemetery and invited him over, you've had a different air about you. You seem more relaxed, willing to have fun, teasing more.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You're back to being the 'Dad' before Mom died, just without all working.”
Gordon gazed at his daughter, searching her eyes and seeing that every word she said came directly from her heart. She was a smart kid, took notice of a lot of things and filed them away. She was a lot like him. If she ever wanted to be a detective, she'd be damn good at it; Gordon didn't wish that on her though. He hugged her tightly to him and then let her go, and she slid off his lap.
“It's a good thing, Dad. Trust me. You can invite Bruce over any time. Jimmy and I both find him entertaining and if he's a good friend to you, then that's even better.” Babs moved over to the kitchen counter and pulled a book from the row of cookbooks. She brought it back to the table and began to flip through it.
Gordon was still staring at his daughter. She looked up at him, blinked. “How'd you get to be so smart?” he asked her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair.
She laughed, flipping another page and looking through it. “I'm just observant. I guess if I inherited anything from you, it was that.” She flipped a few more pages. Gordon didn't respond. “So, what do you want to make for dinner tonight? I'm pretty sick of left over spaghetti.”
Gordon scooted his chair over next to her, looking over the book with her. This was another one of her mother's favorite cookbooks. “We'll have to go to the store if we want to make anything. There's no food in the house.”
Babs looked over at Gordon slyly. “Did you want to invite Bruce over? I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping again.” Gordon glared at her and her smile widened.
“He's actually busy this evening. Said he had an important meeting to attend,” Gordon answered. He wouldn't have minded Babs' proposal if Wayne had actually been free to come over. Gordon wasn't sure what important meetings a billionaire had to do in the evening, but he assumed it was a dinner meeting of some kind. Before he had even gotten to know Wayne, Gordon would have never guessed he even went to meetings. Gordon was quite impressed that Wayne had a lot more involvement in his companies than the media let on.
In fact, everything the media went on about with Wayne seemed to be a big lie. Wayne admitted that the last real date he had that he actually cared about had been over a year ago. He also mentioned not liking polo that much at all, and that Alfred had made him take it up. Gordon had thought it odd that Wayne's butler would even ask him to take up polo. Wayne said it was for appearances, that he was a billionaire who needed to get involved with things that billionaire's did. Gordon had thought that odd, too; there were much better things a billionaire could do to fit in with the hobnob society. There had to be something else to the polo bit, Gordon just couldn't place it.
“That's too bad,” Babs said. “Well, then why don't we just order out?” She closed the book. Gordon couldn't help but think she had been using the cookbook as a device to get her father to invite his new 'friend' over. “Pizza?”
Gordon sighed, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. “You and Jimmy pick, no fighting over it.” He handed her his credit card and she went off to discuss dinner with her younger brother. Gordon sighed; pizza was becoming a regular thing of the Gordon household. He knew he'd end up just eating salad in the refrigerator.
----
Later that evening Gordon stood out in the backyard, looking over the newly fixed window the man that had broken into their house had smashed. Things like this usually set a lot of people on edge with worry and concern, but for Gordon it wasn't anything new. This was Gotham after all, things like this – and worse – happened everyday. Even in his retirement he worried about the city and he just couldn't help it.
“Do you come out here just to see if I'm going to stop by?” came a familiar rasp from behind him. Gordon shrugged; he didn't turn around because he knew who it was, by voice alone and the chilling goosebumps that crawled on his skin every time the man's shadow was cast over him.
“Sometimes. It's a good thinking spot, too. Back here is a little more private than out front. Mrs. Thompson has been poking her nose around a lot more lately,” Gordon explained, shaking his head. He finally turned around, looking at the armor clad man standing next to Gordon's rose bushes. Batman just looked at him, as if to ask him to explain. Gordon sighed, placing on hand on his hip and the using the other to gesture in the air a bit. “Bruce Wayne has been by a few times and she's like every other woman in the city. She'd probably kill her own husband for the chance just to lick Wayne's feet.”
A rather congested sounding snort came from the Bat as he brought a gloved hand to his mouth to try and brush it off as a cough. Gordon placed his other hand on his hip and stared at the vigilante. He almost liked it better when Batman didn't laugh, smile or make sarcastic remarks at him. Almost. Who was he was kidding, he liked it. It showed a side of the man that he would have never thought existed. He knew the man loved – that was one thing that was obvious so many years ago when the Joker was on the loose – with Rachel Dawes....
Now why did that feel weird to think about? Hadn't that name been brought up just the other day with Wayne? Dawes had been pretty popular, having been the Assistant DA to Harvey Dent, and his fiancé. A lot of people new Dawes, but Gordon vividly remembered Batman being more than upset over her death when he found she didn't get out of the building before it blew. Exactly what had Dawes been to Batman? What exactly had Dawes been to Wayne? Gordon knew they had been friends, but had there been something more?
“Jim?” Batman asked, bringing Gordon out of his own thoughts. He was sure now that he was thinking this through a little too much, there couldn't be this much mystery around one man; and he wasn't talking Batman. Gordon sighed and Batman took a step closer to him. “Everything okay?”
“Just a lot on my mind. You'd think with being retired that there wouldn't be a lot to worry about.” Gordon went and down on the bench that over looked his slowly wilting garden. He hadn't been in the mood to tend to it lately, Babs would be disappointed when she saw.
“Your children?” Batman asked stepping around in front of the bench, facing Gordon.
“No,” Gordon said, looking up at Batman at the light from the porch caught the vigilante's eyes. Gordon gestured his hand in the air in some annoyance, as if he couldn't even believe the words about to come out of his mouth. “Bruce Wayne.”
Batman stared at Gordon, unmoving. His eyes were fixed on Gordon intensely, as if searching for an answer. Gordon expected some kind of scoff or another snort of laughter, but nothing ever came from the vigilante's mouth. Gordon clasped his hand in front of him, looking down at the dirt for a moment.
“I'm sure you know enough about Wayne, who doesn't?” Gordon started to say, and even then Batman didn't flinch or move. Gordon nodded, figuring Batman did. “Only eight, maybe nearly nine, when his parents died. I felt so bad for him. What child should have to go through the pain of seeing their parents shot and killed in front of their very eyes?” Gordon took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the fingers on his free hand. “That's beside the point. My point is, I know he doesn't do the things the newspaper and television media says he does, he's even admitted to most of that being lies. But I can't help but think that he's into some dangerous stuff – I'm not sure what, but it can't be good.”
Batman's stand stiffened, if that were even possible. “What makes you think that?”
Gordon placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “He admits to having secrets. Noticed he was injured the other day. He claimed it was golf, but I don't need to be a golfer to know that you can't get an injury that causes that much pain from swinging a club.” Gordon placed both hands down on the bench, kicking at the dirt below his feet. “I know I shouldn't worry, he's a grown man. But I can't help but feel like I need to protect him, be there for him. That's probably how I got roped into helping him with that damn charity auction.”
“I'm sure he's not doing anything dangerous,” Batman said plainly. Gordon looked up at him again, curiously. “I can check in on him if you –”
Gordon cut him off. “No. You're probably right.” Gordon shook his head. “I'd just hate to see something awful happen to him like what happened to his parents. After seeing bits and pieces of who Wayne really is, he doesn't deserve that.”
“No one does,” Batman commented. He took a few steps over to Gordon, kneeling down in front of him so that they were just about face-to-face. “I don't think it's something you need to worry about though. From what I've seen Wayne has enough security to hold off a small army.”
But that wasn't really what Gordon was worried about with Wayne. If the injuries the man hadn't weren't golf related, or polo since he mentioned hating polo, then it could have been a number of things that might have even led to illegal activities. And those often led to the mob, gangs, druggies... every possible and horrible thing Gordon could think of. He knew Wayne didn't have security with him all the time, like that afternoon when they went out. Or at his dinner dates. Or at the Gordon house. In fact, he was sure the only time Wayne had security of any kind was when he was his office.
This wasn't worth talking about with Batman anymore. If Wayne was getting into something illegal, the last thing Gordon needed was Batman hot on his trail. There wasn't even any evidence the billionaire was doing any of that, so why worry the vigilante with such notions?
Gordon sighed again. Change of subject. “How's that case? I haven't heard from anyone at the PD since Monday. I guess they figure since I'm not on the force I must be out of the loop completely.”
Batman stood up again, pacing. Gordon wasn't sure he'd ever seen Batman pace; comforting somehow. “He's not talking, according to Stephens. Atkins won't allow any further interrogation and the man has his lawyer. He'd rather take all the jail time being thrown at him than give up the name of his boss.”
“A standstill. Again,” Gordon said. He had the feeling that Atkins wasn't giving anyone at MCU the proper time or paperwork to get the job done. If they took the time to break this guy down, then they would get the name of his boss in no time. Atkins was playing everything safe. One couldn't do that in Gotham City, you either took chances or you died from not trying hard enough. Gordon almost hoped it did kill the man, it would serve him right.
“I'm still searching, looking for others that might know something. But I'm starting to come up short, there isn't much left.” Batman squeezed his gloved hands tightly into fists, and Gordon could tell the case would only get worse before it got better.
“Maybe you need to look outside the box,” Gordon suggested, scooting over on the bench and motioning for Batman to sit. Batman took the few steps from Gordon and sat down. Gordon shifted his position so he was facing the vigilante. “You're checking all the officers at the PD, all the people who work for and used to work the crime labs, the investigation units. You know it's an inside job, the evident points to it. So what if its really right in front of you?”
Batman shook his head. “Jim, I know it's not you.”
Gordon rolled his eyes at the Bat and gave him a slightly offended push on the armor over his chest. “Not me,” Gordon said. “For Christ sake. I just meant that its likely going to be the person you least expect. Stephens, Montoya, and Bullock... I can vouch for them. But anyone else is fair game.”
They held each other's gazes for a moment longer than was usually comfortable. They both knew what the other was thinking, and that was how much the city really needed Jim Gordon. There was no one else so dedicated to their work than him. Hell, he might as well have been working while retired, consulting like old times with the vigilante no one knew was on their side. Gordon didn't want to say, didn't want admit it again, but Batman didn't let him.
“This city needs you, Jim,” Batman said somberly. They had let go of the eye contact yet, and even though Gordon felt he needed to, that he should, he didn't. Batman leaned towards Gordon, grabbing his left hand tightly. The rasp that he usually used vanished into a graveled whisper. “I need you. I can't keep doing this without you.”
Gordon thought for sure his heart had jumped into his throat, a lump forming so big that he couldn't even being to think about swallowing. He knew when he retired that it would be hard on everyone connected to him, and hardest of all on Batman. They had become partners in a war with the city that was never going to end, and yet they managed through for five years – even with the hunt for Batman on going. He really should have known better than to assume the vigilante would go on as if nothing had changed.
“But you'll have to,” Gordon answered, finding himself gravitating inches closer to Batman, his hand still firmly grasped between strong leathered fingers. Gordon felt a lightness in his chest, and fought his free hand for a place to rest until it found its way to Batman's left arm. Batman breathed a strangled sigh, as if debating with himself, the same inner emotions that Gordon feeling toiling around in his stomach. The Bat's gloved left hand was hovering dangerously next to Gordon's face.
“I don't want to,” Batman growled, biting the tip of his glove with his teeth and tossing it to the ground. He reached over again and this time his fingertips grazed Gordon's face in the gentler touch than he had expected. Batman's hand was completely over the right side of Gordon's face, thumb caressing his cheek, as their an unstoppable force seemed to bring their faces together, almost...
“Dad?” Gordon heard Jimmy say from the back door. Batman had immediately stood, picking up his glove and putting it back on. Jimmy walked out the door, the phone in his hands. He looked at Batman slowly, a smile growing on his face. He handed the phone to his father. “Phone call.”