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Momentum:
Chapter Fifteen
written by destinyawakened
Gordon didn't hear from Wayne for four days. At first he thought perhaps the younger man changed his mind, which wouldn't hurt Gordon's feelings so early in game, but it did leave him feeling rather useless. He didn't want to call and sound desperate, and yet all he could think about was if he didn't call, what if something were wrong? His fears were calmed Thursday evening when a shadow was cast over the rose garden, blocking the light from the back porch.
“Where you been?” Gordon asked, putting the bush pruners down, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the man behind him. He took his gloves off and threw them on the ground, standing up to meet the gaze of Batman. Gordon had gone to gardening in the early evening, the sun was less bright then and it felt more peaceful.
Batman didn't say anything. Gordon tipped his head curiously as he approached the other man cautiously. Batman was leaning on the rail of the porch, teeth gritted. Gordon quickened his pace and covered the ground between them. He stooped up under Batman, taking armored arm around his shoulder and helping him to sit down on the bench by the roses. Gordon removed his hands from Batman, noticing the blood all over his fingers.
“Oh my God,” Gordon whispered, unable to see where the wound was in the low lighting of the backyard. There was a lot of it though, starting to pool below them on the stone bench. Batman's breathing was low and raspy, as if he was struggling. “Bruce?” Gordon whispered again, but the other man didn't respond. Gordon didn't have a number for Alfred on hand and he knew sure well he couldn't take him to the hospital. “Stay here,” Gordon said as he placed his hands on Batman for a moment and then stood, running into the house.
Babs was in the living room doing her homework and Jimmy was at the kitchen table eating a bowl of ice cream. Gordon walked into the kitchen, opening the cabinet below the sink and found the first aid kit. He wasn't sure this would even help; he had no idea what he was up against. Babs was on her feet looming over her father's shoulder, worriedly.
“Dad? What's going on?” she asked, trying to grab at his arm to slow him down, but Gordon was already headed towards the backyard again. “Dad?” He turned to face her as he opened the back door.
“Babs, I need you go lay down some old sheets on my bed, grab some towels and see if there are any other first aid kits in the house,” Gordon said sternly, and Babs nodded her head. Gordon walked down the back porch to Batman's side. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to move him into the house. Sure, Wayne might not have been too heavy, but with all the armor and Kevlar... it wasn't going to be easy.
“Dad? Can I help?” Jimmy asked from the back door. Gordon looked up to see the silhouette of his son. Gordon nodded his head and motioned his son over to his side. Jimmy got on the other side of Batman, propping his arm up around his shoulder and Gordon did the same. Carefully, and slowly they moved him up the steps and into the house, trying not to bump into any walls. Babs was at the end of the hallway near Gordon's room, when she saw them. She opened the door further and they helped a barely able to keep walking Batman into the room.
Gordon motioned for the lights as he and Jimmy tried to carefully lay Batman on the bed. The man dropped to the mattress with a groan, arm reaching up for his left ribcage. Babs and Jimmy exchanged glances as Gordon crawled up onto the bed, kneeling over the masked vigilante, shaking his head. There was no way to get a good look at the wounds with all the armor on. He also had a feeling it was a little more than just a deep wound. He caught Batman's eye, the pain he saw there and very slowly the other man nodded.
Gordon got down next to his ear, as so the kids wouldn't hear him. “Babs and Jimmy are here. I'm going to need their help.” The response was the same, a simple, diligent nod. Gordon looked to his kids. “Babs will you start taking off his boots and Jimmy I need you start with the gloves.” Both set to work and Gordon tried to prop Batman by placing his back to the wall the best he could. He then tried to find the clasps that kept the cowl in place. He clicked them undone and and gently pulled the mask over the man's head, setting it down on the bed side them. Wayne's face looked dank and pale; his hair sweaty. He panted for breath, letting out a groan of pain as Gordon tried to get him to sit up more.
“Stop,” Wayne said breathlessly. At that both Babs and Jimmy stopped what they were doing and looked up. They both looked very surprised as the sight before them, but Gordon motioned them to keep going. He then started to help Jimmy by removing the set of gauntlets from each forearm, and carefully placing them on the nightstand.
Piece-by-piece they had stripped Wayne of the armor in a record time of five minutes. Babs handed Gordon the towels and extra first aid kits. He waved them from the room, for Wayne's own decency. Gordon removed the mesh body suit with the help of scissors, leaving Wayne perfectly naked, bruised, and bleeding on Gordon's bed.
There was a wound in Wayne's left side, looked as if a bullet grazed him, but deep enough that it took a chunk of the skin. The rest of him looked freshly beaten, even his face. The suit might have Kevlar and titanium reinforced, and Gordon wondered what kind of situation Wayne had gotten into. The bleeding wasn't nearly as bad as Gordon had originally thought, but it looked as if it had started to clot. If anything, Wayne looked exhausted and run-down.
Gordon cleaned and bandaged the wound and proceeded to wipe the dirt away from the rest of Wayne's body with the clean towels and some water. It hurt his chest to see the younger man like this, worn and bruised to the point that Gordon almost had to look twice to know it was him. It must have been some beating, but he wasn't sure he'd get an answer from Wayne anytime soon. Gordon put the towels aside, after doing all he knew he could, and carefully covered Wayne with a clean blanket. He went to leave but the other man grabbed his hand. Gordon knelt back down on the side of the bed next to Wayne.
“Jim,” Wayne said weakly. “Atkins.” Gordon grasped Wayne's hand tighter, not quite understanding what it was he was trying to tell him.
“I'm gonna get you some painkillers, Bruce. I'll be right back,” Gordon said as he stroked his hand through the billionaire's damp hair. Again, Wayne didn't let him go, pulling him down with a bit more force, exerting himself more than Gordon knew he should have.
Wayne was shaking his head as Gordon knelt down next to to him again. “The murders,” Wayne said, looking Gordon in the eye, sternly through the pain. “Atkins knows.” Gordon only looked at Wayne for a minutes, letting it all sink in. He knew that Atkins alone couldn't cause this much damage to Batman, it would take a lot of planning and a lot of strength. Atkins had people behind him, and just what and who those people were, Gordon was going to find out.
“Okay. Listen, Bruce. I'm going to leave Jimmy and Babs here to watch you,” Gordon said softly, stroking Wayne's hair. “I have some.... things to take care.” He bent down and kissed the billionaire on the head and walked out of the room. He left the door cracked and walked into the living room where Babs and Jimmy were on the couch talking in hushed whispers. Gordon walked around to the front of the couch and knelt in front of them.
“I need to go take care of some business. I need you two to stay here, bolt the doors and watch Bruce,” Gordon said, gazing into each pair of blue eyes. They both nodded, confused and unsure of everything, he could tell. “We'll talk it over when I get home.” He stood, grabbed his keys from the counter and walked out the door.
-----
Gordon arrived at MCU twenty minutes later. He walked up the steps with determination, hoping that Atkins would be there for confronting. Gordon wasn't in the mood for caring, in the mood for likely being thrown in jail, because in the end he knew his justice would be served and Atkins would get his. Gordon was going to be sure that he did.
He threw open the front doors of MCU and a few of the detectives working late looked up from their paper work or coffee and stared as Gordon marched through the doors and over to the office the commissioner kept in the building. He got right up to the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Stephens looking at him sympathetically.
“He ain't here,” Stephens said. He looked Gordon in the eye, worry on his face. “What's going on, Jim?”
“Are Renee and Harvey here?” Gordon asked as he looked around the bullpen, not seeing any sign of them. Stephens nodded, leading Gordon over to the break room.
“Yeah,” said the other man as they walked through the door. Montoya and Bullock were by the coffee pot and they turned to look at the newcomers, Montoya smiled at him.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Couldn't stay away forever, huh?” she teased, sipping her coffee. Gordon was shaking his head hurriedly. Bullock was looking Gordon over, his eyes stopping on the splatters of blood on his shirt sleeves and pants. He reached over and tugged on them.
“Something wrong, Jim?” he asked, and Gordon swatted his hand away. “What's going on?”
“I know who's behind the murders,” Gordon said flatly, kicking the door to the break room shut. “It's Atkins.”
“You don't know that,” Montoya said, her tone resting between believing and not wanting to. Gordon glared at her, gesturing at the blood on his clothes.“Who's blood is that?”
“Batman's. He got a little too close for the killers' liking. He says it''s Atkins behind it. It's all I got out of him,” Gordon sighed.
“Atkins is always here though and if not here, he's at home or City Hall. I don't see how this is possible,” Bullock said, confused. Gordon shook his head.
“I didn't say it was him, but he knows something. You know people in this city. Desperate times a good person can lose sight of what's right and what's wrong. I trust that Batman wouldn't steer us in the wrong direction,” Gordon explained, putting his hands on his hips. He was trying so hard to stay calm, there had to be some explanation to everything. He found it hard to stay in control, to not lash out and go beating down Atkins' door for answers.
Montoya smiled at him. “We?” she asked. “Why do I get the feeling you've missed this job more than you want to tell us you do?” Gordon glared at her, this was not the time for sentiments.
“Detective, can I get your attention on the subject at hand, please?” Gordon asked sternly. Montoya's grin spread.
“Yes, sir.”
-----
Gordon had had enough and he could do things by the book or he could do things his way, and since his way didn't have to involve the book, he took the Trio with him to Atkins' house. Which is how they happened to be on his doorstep, ringing his doorbell. When the dark skinned back opened the door, a smile on his face so false that Gordon couldn't help but throw the punch waiting on his fist. His knuckles made contact with the man's nose, and he stumbled backwards, mumbling curse words at Gordon. Bullock pushed the front door open and the rest of them stepped in.
The Trio surrounded Atkins and Gordon stared him down, hands still in tight balls ready to throw one more punch, or more, if needed. Atkins held a hand to his nose, which was bleeding profusely. Bullock put his hands on the man's shoulders and pushed him down into a chair that Montoya brought from the kitchen. Stephens handed Bullock a pair of handcuffs and they slipped the silver bracelets around Atkins' wrists, arms bent behind the chair.
Gordon watched as the man's nose continue to bleed a steam of dark red blood. Usually he'd feel so sympathetic, but this time he just wanted to watch it, watch him suffer. Atkins was mumbling out curses and Gordon got down in front of him, far enough away that the man wouldn't be able to kick him – Gordon knew better.
“I want answers,” Gordon said. “I trusted that when I left you to my position full-time in January that you would take over where I left off. Instead I hear you're making mockery of the city and letting everything go to hell. You don't except the help I told you you would need and then I find out why. Your letting killers get away with murder, even helping them get away with it and then you send a man to my house to see what I know.” Gordon paused, narrowing his eyes. “Why? This city doesn't need more people like you.”
Atkins tried to laugh, but when he tried Gordon threw another punch across his jaw and the man moaned in pain. He lowered his head and then looked up at Gordon, blood dripping from his mouth. “You'll go to prison for this.”
Gordon shrugged, frowning. “Not for long. My word against yours. I'm pretty sure I have better reputation in this town than you do.” Atkins just stared at Gordon, his nose starting to swell and his lips turning red from the splatter of blood on them. “So, you can tell me everything you know, or I can keep this up.”
Atkins shook his head. “This isn't you, Gordon. You don't play dirty cop.”
“Good thing I'm not a cop anymore,” Gordon growled, bringing his fist up to throw another punch at Atkins, but the man flinch and let out a whine.
“Fine! Fine, just stop,” Atkins begged. “The mob as been investing in some experimental drugs. I don't know everything, I just know it's sort of steroids, makes the person stronger, but not for long. They gave me money to keep quiet about the test accidental murders that have occurred from the test subjects going ramped. You know how bad it is, Gordon. You can't blame me!”
“Oh, I can blame you and I will,” Gordon said lowly, getting up right next to Atkins' ears. “Remember what happened to Anna Ramirez?” Gordon asked the man. Anna was still spending time in prison for her involvement with the mob and help in kidnapping of Harvey Dent and the eventual death of Rachel Dawes. Atkins swallowed. “That's gonna be you.”
Gordon motioned to Bullock to unlock the cuffs. “Take him to the car.”
----
The Trio took Atkins to a cell at MCU and agreed to watch him. Gordon took his car to City Hall where he was going to have a few words with Garcia. Gordon made his way up the stairs, walking passed the man's secretary and opened the office door and walking in. Garcia was on the phone with his wife and looked up at Gordon in surprise. He looked at his watch, it wasn't even eight in the morning, but Gordon had come as soon as he knew Garcia would be there.
“Honey, I'll have to call you back,” Garcia said to his wife on the phone. He placed the receiver down. “Jim, what brings you here?” He looked at Gordon's clothes, the blood splattered on them and the swell of his knuckles. “You look like you've been through hell and back.”
“In a way, I have,” Gordon mused in a not so pleased tone. He closed Garcia's door and strolled over to the desk. He placed his bruised hands down on the desk and glared at Garcia in the eye. “Next time I decide to retire, you'd better either find a better replacement, or you talk me out of it.”
Garcia shook his head in confusion. “I'm sorry, next time? When did –” He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Jim, what's going on?”
“Atkins is taking payoffs from the mob. He knew about the murders and is being held in a cell at Major Crimes.” Gordon paused and leaned over the desk, looking Garcia in the eye sternly. “ And I want my job back. Now.”
----
By Saturday Gordon was given his job back, his badge and his gun. Michael Atkins was put into prison, but refused, just like everyone else involved with the case, to say anymore about the mob. It left Gordon feeling a little nervous; the mob was still experimenting with unknown drugs that obviously had a devastating effect on even Batman's high grade armor. It meant Wayne would have to be more careful and that they would have to work a little harder to put an end to the nonsense before more people were hurt, or worse, were killed.
First, Wayne had to get his strength back. In two days he had been able to recover mostly, after they called Alfred to come help take care of him at the Gordon house. He was still pretty bruised, lovely purple, green, and blue splotches around his ribs and arms. Gordon was almost afraid to touch him, that he'd hurt the younger man. So, he kept a distance.
Babs and Jimmy had taken the shock well. Both had been surprised to say the very least, but told Gordon they almost half expected it. When pieces were placed in front of them, it did make sense. Who else had that kind of money and time?
Gordon stood over the bed where Wayne was sleeping, having just returned from Major Crimes. It was about ten, first day back on the job and he had to work later than he intended because he had to clean up a few of Atkins' messes. The kids were asleep already and Alfred was out on the couch, sleeping. Gordon shimmied out of his suit jacket, tossing it onto a chair by the door. He unstrapped his shoulder holster and placed it and the gun inside in the nightstand. He emptied his pocket as well, laying his phone, wallet and keys on the stand. He sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Wayne's head and stroking his hair softly.
Wayne mumbled something as Gordon toed off his shoes. “Jim,” came the whisper of the younger man's voice. Gordon unbuckled his belt and slipped his pants off and then unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the closet. He crawled over to the other side of Wayne and laid on his back. Wayne rolled over and snuggled up next to Gordon, throwing an arm around his waist, burying his face between Gordon's shoulder and the pillow.
Gordon sighed, placing his hand on Wayne's arm around him. The warmth was welcoming, it had been so long since he shared his bed with anyone. The past two nights he slept on the couch, afraid that Wayne was too hurt and didn't want to accidentally make anything worse. Tonight, he just wanted to feel some warmth after months of being so cold. He tugged gently on Wayne's arm.
“Bruce?” he whispered and Wayne moved his head to look at him. Gordon opened his arms and motioned the billionaire over to him. “Come here.” Wayne scooted over, rolling to his side and resting his head on Gordon's chest, arm still firming around him. Gordon let his arm rest over Wayne's broad shoulders, fingers running through the younger man's hair. Gordon missed the human contact and intimacy of sharing his bed with someone else. Even when Barbara was alive, during her cancer treatments, she was so cold and tired all the time that it felt they were never in the same bed after a while.
Gordon wrapped his other arm around Wayne, pulling him closer. This wasn't exactly where he thought he'd be after Barbara died – it was better.
-----
A week later Gordon stood on the top of MCU, kicking at the pieces of shattered glass just as he had the last time he was there. It felt so good to stand out on the rooftop, holding a cup of coffee and feel the warm spring sun set over the tall building of downtown Gotham. Stephens, Montoya and Bullock were with him, everyone with a smile on their face. It was just like nothing in the past year had happened, as if he had never left..
“So when do we rebuild this light?” Stephens asked. Gordon looked at him and shook his head.
“We don't. He's still wanted, as far as the rest of Gotham knows. But as long as we're all here, he'll continue to help.” Gordon smiled, sipping his coffee. The lights of the city lit up Gotham quickly. The Trio headed back down stairs. Gordon was alone, all except for shadow behind him, waiting.
“You missed this,” Batman said. Gordon turned around and looked at the vigilante, smiling.
“More than you'll ever know,” Gordon answered. Batman stepped closer to him and Gordon placed a hand his chest, looking at the armor for a moment before meeting his eyes. “It does feel good to have this all back. To be Commissioner, knowing I'm making a difference, again.”
“Everything is as it should be,” Batman whispered, bending his so that their lips met softly. It was true, everything, for the most part, was as it should be. Everything – Gordon was convinced now – had happened for a reason.
“Where you been?” Gordon asked, putting the bush pruners down, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the man behind him. He took his gloves off and threw them on the ground, standing up to meet the gaze of Batman. Gordon had gone to gardening in the early evening, the sun was less bright then and it felt more peaceful.
Batman didn't say anything. Gordon tipped his head curiously as he approached the other man cautiously. Batman was leaning on the rail of the porch, teeth gritted. Gordon quickened his pace and covered the ground between them. He stooped up under Batman, taking armored arm around his shoulder and helping him to sit down on the bench by the roses. Gordon removed his hands from Batman, noticing the blood all over his fingers.
“Oh my God,” Gordon whispered, unable to see where the wound was in the low lighting of the backyard. There was a lot of it though, starting to pool below them on the stone bench. Batman's breathing was low and raspy, as if he was struggling. “Bruce?” Gordon whispered again, but the other man didn't respond. Gordon didn't have a number for Alfred on hand and he knew sure well he couldn't take him to the hospital. “Stay here,” Gordon said as he placed his hands on Batman for a moment and then stood, running into the house.
Babs was in the living room doing her homework and Jimmy was at the kitchen table eating a bowl of ice cream. Gordon walked into the kitchen, opening the cabinet below the sink and found the first aid kit. He wasn't sure this would even help; he had no idea what he was up against. Babs was on her feet looming over her father's shoulder, worriedly.
“Dad? What's going on?” she asked, trying to grab at his arm to slow him down, but Gordon was already headed towards the backyard again. “Dad?” He turned to face her as he opened the back door.
“Babs, I need you go lay down some old sheets on my bed, grab some towels and see if there are any other first aid kits in the house,” Gordon said sternly, and Babs nodded her head. Gordon walked down the back porch to Batman's side. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to move him into the house. Sure, Wayne might not have been too heavy, but with all the armor and Kevlar... it wasn't going to be easy.
“Dad? Can I help?” Jimmy asked from the back door. Gordon looked up to see the silhouette of his son. Gordon nodded his head and motioned his son over to his side. Jimmy got on the other side of Batman, propping his arm up around his shoulder and Gordon did the same. Carefully, and slowly they moved him up the steps and into the house, trying not to bump into any walls. Babs was at the end of the hallway near Gordon's room, when she saw them. She opened the door further and they helped a barely able to keep walking Batman into the room.
Gordon motioned for the lights as he and Jimmy tried to carefully lay Batman on the bed. The man dropped to the mattress with a groan, arm reaching up for his left ribcage. Babs and Jimmy exchanged glances as Gordon crawled up onto the bed, kneeling over the masked vigilante, shaking his head. There was no way to get a good look at the wounds with all the armor on. He also had a feeling it was a little more than just a deep wound. He caught Batman's eye, the pain he saw there and very slowly the other man nodded.
Gordon got down next to his ear, as so the kids wouldn't hear him. “Babs and Jimmy are here. I'm going to need their help.” The response was the same, a simple, diligent nod. Gordon looked to his kids. “Babs will you start taking off his boots and Jimmy I need you start with the gloves.” Both set to work and Gordon tried to prop Batman by placing his back to the wall the best he could. He then tried to find the clasps that kept the cowl in place. He clicked them undone and and gently pulled the mask over the man's head, setting it down on the bed side them. Wayne's face looked dank and pale; his hair sweaty. He panted for breath, letting out a groan of pain as Gordon tried to get him to sit up more.
“Stop,” Wayne said breathlessly. At that both Babs and Jimmy stopped what they were doing and looked up. They both looked very surprised as the sight before them, but Gordon motioned them to keep going. He then started to help Jimmy by removing the set of gauntlets from each forearm, and carefully placing them on the nightstand.
Piece-by-piece they had stripped Wayne of the armor in a record time of five minutes. Babs handed Gordon the towels and extra first aid kits. He waved them from the room, for Wayne's own decency. Gordon removed the mesh body suit with the help of scissors, leaving Wayne perfectly naked, bruised, and bleeding on Gordon's bed.
There was a wound in Wayne's left side, looked as if a bullet grazed him, but deep enough that it took a chunk of the skin. The rest of him looked freshly beaten, even his face. The suit might have Kevlar and titanium reinforced, and Gordon wondered what kind of situation Wayne had gotten into. The bleeding wasn't nearly as bad as Gordon had originally thought, but it looked as if it had started to clot. If anything, Wayne looked exhausted and run-down.
Gordon cleaned and bandaged the wound and proceeded to wipe the dirt away from the rest of Wayne's body with the clean towels and some water. It hurt his chest to see the younger man like this, worn and bruised to the point that Gordon almost had to look twice to know it was him. It must have been some beating, but he wasn't sure he'd get an answer from Wayne anytime soon. Gordon put the towels aside, after doing all he knew he could, and carefully covered Wayne with a clean blanket. He went to leave but the other man grabbed his hand. Gordon knelt back down on the side of the bed next to Wayne.
“Jim,” Wayne said weakly. “Atkins.” Gordon grasped Wayne's hand tighter, not quite understanding what it was he was trying to tell him.
“I'm gonna get you some painkillers, Bruce. I'll be right back,” Gordon said as he stroked his hand through the billionaire's damp hair. Again, Wayne didn't let him go, pulling him down with a bit more force, exerting himself more than Gordon knew he should have.
Wayne was shaking his head as Gordon knelt down next to to him again. “The murders,” Wayne said, looking Gordon in the eye, sternly through the pain. “Atkins knows.” Gordon only looked at Wayne for a minutes, letting it all sink in. He knew that Atkins alone couldn't cause this much damage to Batman, it would take a lot of planning and a lot of strength. Atkins had people behind him, and just what and who those people were, Gordon was going to find out.
“Okay. Listen, Bruce. I'm going to leave Jimmy and Babs here to watch you,” Gordon said softly, stroking Wayne's hair. “I have some.... things to take care.” He bent down and kissed the billionaire on the head and walked out of the room. He left the door cracked and walked into the living room where Babs and Jimmy were on the couch talking in hushed whispers. Gordon walked around to the front of the couch and knelt in front of them.
“I need to go take care of some business. I need you two to stay here, bolt the doors and watch Bruce,” Gordon said, gazing into each pair of blue eyes. They both nodded, confused and unsure of everything, he could tell. “We'll talk it over when I get home.” He stood, grabbed his keys from the counter and walked out the door.
-----
Gordon arrived at MCU twenty minutes later. He walked up the steps with determination, hoping that Atkins would be there for confronting. Gordon wasn't in the mood for caring, in the mood for likely being thrown in jail, because in the end he knew his justice would be served and Atkins would get his. Gordon was going to be sure that he did.
He threw open the front doors of MCU and a few of the detectives working late looked up from their paper work or coffee and stared as Gordon marched through the doors and over to the office the commissioner kept in the building. He got right up to the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Stephens looking at him sympathetically.
“He ain't here,” Stephens said. He looked Gordon in the eye, worry on his face. “What's going on, Jim?”
“Are Renee and Harvey here?” Gordon asked as he looked around the bullpen, not seeing any sign of them. Stephens nodded, leading Gordon over to the break room.
“Yeah,” said the other man as they walked through the door. Montoya and Bullock were by the coffee pot and they turned to look at the newcomers, Montoya smiled at him.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Couldn't stay away forever, huh?” she teased, sipping her coffee. Gordon was shaking his head hurriedly. Bullock was looking Gordon over, his eyes stopping on the splatters of blood on his shirt sleeves and pants. He reached over and tugged on them.
“Something wrong, Jim?” he asked, and Gordon swatted his hand away. “What's going on?”
“I know who's behind the murders,” Gordon said flatly, kicking the door to the break room shut. “It's Atkins.”
“You don't know that,” Montoya said, her tone resting between believing and not wanting to. Gordon glared at her, gesturing at the blood on his clothes.“Who's blood is that?”
“Batman's. He got a little too close for the killers' liking. He says it''s Atkins behind it. It's all I got out of him,” Gordon sighed.
“Atkins is always here though and if not here, he's at home or City Hall. I don't see how this is possible,” Bullock said, confused. Gordon shook his head.
“I didn't say it was him, but he knows something. You know people in this city. Desperate times a good person can lose sight of what's right and what's wrong. I trust that Batman wouldn't steer us in the wrong direction,” Gordon explained, putting his hands on his hips. He was trying so hard to stay calm, there had to be some explanation to everything. He found it hard to stay in control, to not lash out and go beating down Atkins' door for answers.
Montoya smiled at him. “We?” she asked. “Why do I get the feeling you've missed this job more than you want to tell us you do?” Gordon glared at her, this was not the time for sentiments.
“Detective, can I get your attention on the subject at hand, please?” Gordon asked sternly. Montoya's grin spread.
“Yes, sir.”
-----
Gordon had had enough and he could do things by the book or he could do things his way, and since his way didn't have to involve the book, he took the Trio with him to Atkins' house. Which is how they happened to be on his doorstep, ringing his doorbell. When the dark skinned back opened the door, a smile on his face so false that Gordon couldn't help but throw the punch waiting on his fist. His knuckles made contact with the man's nose, and he stumbled backwards, mumbling curse words at Gordon. Bullock pushed the front door open and the rest of them stepped in.
The Trio surrounded Atkins and Gordon stared him down, hands still in tight balls ready to throw one more punch, or more, if needed. Atkins held a hand to his nose, which was bleeding profusely. Bullock put his hands on the man's shoulders and pushed him down into a chair that Montoya brought from the kitchen. Stephens handed Bullock a pair of handcuffs and they slipped the silver bracelets around Atkins' wrists, arms bent behind the chair.
Gordon watched as the man's nose continue to bleed a steam of dark red blood. Usually he'd feel so sympathetic, but this time he just wanted to watch it, watch him suffer. Atkins was mumbling out curses and Gordon got down in front of him, far enough away that the man wouldn't be able to kick him – Gordon knew better.
“I want answers,” Gordon said. “I trusted that when I left you to my position full-time in January that you would take over where I left off. Instead I hear you're making mockery of the city and letting everything go to hell. You don't except the help I told you you would need and then I find out why. Your letting killers get away with murder, even helping them get away with it and then you send a man to my house to see what I know.” Gordon paused, narrowing his eyes. “Why? This city doesn't need more people like you.”
Atkins tried to laugh, but when he tried Gordon threw another punch across his jaw and the man moaned in pain. He lowered his head and then looked up at Gordon, blood dripping from his mouth. “You'll go to prison for this.”
Gordon shrugged, frowning. “Not for long. My word against yours. I'm pretty sure I have better reputation in this town than you do.” Atkins just stared at Gordon, his nose starting to swell and his lips turning red from the splatter of blood on them. “So, you can tell me everything you know, or I can keep this up.”
Atkins shook his head. “This isn't you, Gordon. You don't play dirty cop.”
“Good thing I'm not a cop anymore,” Gordon growled, bringing his fist up to throw another punch at Atkins, but the man flinch and let out a whine.
“Fine! Fine, just stop,” Atkins begged. “The mob as been investing in some experimental drugs. I don't know everything, I just know it's sort of steroids, makes the person stronger, but not for long. They gave me money to keep quiet about the test accidental murders that have occurred from the test subjects going ramped. You know how bad it is, Gordon. You can't blame me!”
“Oh, I can blame you and I will,” Gordon said lowly, getting up right next to Atkins' ears. “Remember what happened to Anna Ramirez?” Gordon asked the man. Anna was still spending time in prison for her involvement with the mob and help in kidnapping of Harvey Dent and the eventual death of Rachel Dawes. Atkins swallowed. “That's gonna be you.”
Gordon motioned to Bullock to unlock the cuffs. “Take him to the car.”
----
The Trio took Atkins to a cell at MCU and agreed to watch him. Gordon took his car to City Hall where he was going to have a few words with Garcia. Gordon made his way up the stairs, walking passed the man's secretary and opened the office door and walking in. Garcia was on the phone with his wife and looked up at Gordon in surprise. He looked at his watch, it wasn't even eight in the morning, but Gordon had come as soon as he knew Garcia would be there.
“Honey, I'll have to call you back,” Garcia said to his wife on the phone. He placed the receiver down. “Jim, what brings you here?” He looked at Gordon's clothes, the blood splattered on them and the swell of his knuckles. “You look like you've been through hell and back.”
“In a way, I have,” Gordon mused in a not so pleased tone. He closed Garcia's door and strolled over to the desk. He placed his bruised hands down on the desk and glared at Garcia in the eye. “Next time I decide to retire, you'd better either find a better replacement, or you talk me out of it.”
Garcia shook his head in confusion. “I'm sorry, next time? When did –” He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Jim, what's going on?”
“Atkins is taking payoffs from the mob. He knew about the murders and is being held in a cell at Major Crimes.” Gordon paused and leaned over the desk, looking Garcia in the eye sternly. “ And I want my job back. Now.”
----
By Saturday Gordon was given his job back, his badge and his gun. Michael Atkins was put into prison, but refused, just like everyone else involved with the case, to say anymore about the mob. It left Gordon feeling a little nervous; the mob was still experimenting with unknown drugs that obviously had a devastating effect on even Batman's high grade armor. It meant Wayne would have to be more careful and that they would have to work a little harder to put an end to the nonsense before more people were hurt, or worse, were killed.
First, Wayne had to get his strength back. In two days he had been able to recover mostly, after they called Alfred to come help take care of him at the Gordon house. He was still pretty bruised, lovely purple, green, and blue splotches around his ribs and arms. Gordon was almost afraid to touch him, that he'd hurt the younger man. So, he kept a distance.
Babs and Jimmy had taken the shock well. Both had been surprised to say the very least, but told Gordon they almost half expected it. When pieces were placed in front of them, it did make sense. Who else had that kind of money and time?
Gordon stood over the bed where Wayne was sleeping, having just returned from Major Crimes. It was about ten, first day back on the job and he had to work later than he intended because he had to clean up a few of Atkins' messes. The kids were asleep already and Alfred was out on the couch, sleeping. Gordon shimmied out of his suit jacket, tossing it onto a chair by the door. He unstrapped his shoulder holster and placed it and the gun inside in the nightstand. He emptied his pocket as well, laying his phone, wallet and keys on the stand. He sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Wayne's head and stroking his hair softly.
Wayne mumbled something as Gordon toed off his shoes. “Jim,” came the whisper of the younger man's voice. Gordon unbuckled his belt and slipped his pants off and then unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the closet. He crawled over to the other side of Wayne and laid on his back. Wayne rolled over and snuggled up next to Gordon, throwing an arm around his waist, burying his face between Gordon's shoulder and the pillow.
Gordon sighed, placing his hand on Wayne's arm around him. The warmth was welcoming, it had been so long since he shared his bed with anyone. The past two nights he slept on the couch, afraid that Wayne was too hurt and didn't want to accidentally make anything worse. Tonight, he just wanted to feel some warmth after months of being so cold. He tugged gently on Wayne's arm.
“Bruce?” he whispered and Wayne moved his head to look at him. Gordon opened his arms and motioned the billionaire over to him. “Come here.” Wayne scooted over, rolling to his side and resting his head on Gordon's chest, arm still firming around him. Gordon let his arm rest over Wayne's broad shoulders, fingers running through the younger man's hair. Gordon missed the human contact and intimacy of sharing his bed with someone else. Even when Barbara was alive, during her cancer treatments, she was so cold and tired all the time that it felt they were never in the same bed after a while.
Gordon wrapped his other arm around Wayne, pulling him closer. This wasn't exactly where he thought he'd be after Barbara died – it was better.
-----
A week later Gordon stood on the top of MCU, kicking at the pieces of shattered glass just as he had the last time he was there. It felt so good to stand out on the rooftop, holding a cup of coffee and feel the warm spring sun set over the tall building of downtown Gotham. Stephens, Montoya and Bullock were with him, everyone with a smile on their face. It was just like nothing in the past year had happened, as if he had never left..
“So when do we rebuild this light?” Stephens asked. Gordon looked at him and shook his head.
“We don't. He's still wanted, as far as the rest of Gotham knows. But as long as we're all here, he'll continue to help.” Gordon smiled, sipping his coffee. The lights of the city lit up Gotham quickly. The Trio headed back down stairs. Gordon was alone, all except for shadow behind him, waiting.
“You missed this,” Batman said. Gordon turned around and looked at the vigilante, smiling.
“More than you'll ever know,” Gordon answered. Batman stepped closer to him and Gordon placed a hand his chest, looking at the armor for a moment before meeting his eyes. “It does feel good to have this all back. To be Commissioner, knowing I'm making a difference, again.”
“Everything is as it should be,” Batman whispered, bending his so that their lips met softly. It was true, everything, for the most part, was as it should be. Everything – Gordon was convinced now – had happened for a reason.