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Momentum:
Chapter Two
written by destinyawakened
Bruce didn't like the new commissioner one bit. Maybe it was his attitude towards Batman, or maybe it was just that the man wasn't Jim Gordon. Of course, that would always be the problem. No one was else was or could ever be Gordon and no one else was as dedicated to saving Gotham as he was. Bruce often found himself – selfishly – wishing that Gordon's wife would die so the man could get back to work and Bruce's own trouble with the police would end.
Of course the moment Bruce heard of Barbara Gordon's passing he immediately regretted all the thoughts he had had. Barbara had been Gordon's wife, the one person he had to share his life with and now she was gone. Bruce knew he could have helped, could have done something, but even all the money in the world couldn't stop cancer. There really was nothing anyone could have done more for Barbara Gordon.
The memorial would have been taking place by then and Bruce had so desperately wanted to do, to give condolences and be there for the family. However, Bruce Wayne had little to no contact with Gordon's personal life and coming forward at such a personal event would only raise suspicion – something Bruce didn't need right now. He'd try to go see the family later that week and see how Gordon was holding up and offer, again, whatever support the older man would need.
It was all he could do and it ate him apart inside to know that he couldn't really do more.
Bruce sat back in his chair, lifting his feet to the desk. He was watching old security footage from bank robberies in the past to keep his mind off Gordon. He had the police scanner on, listening for any activity there might be going on. So far, it was going to be a slow evening.
He sped through some of the footage, watching for things he could take with him the next he heard about another robbery from these particular bank robbers. And as Bruce hit the stop button on the remote he heard an emergency call come in over the scanner. He paused the video, leaning forward to hear it better. A woman dispatcher was calling for all emergency vehicles, including ambulances, to an address Bruce new by heart after many midnight meetings.
Jim Gordon's house.
Listening a little more closely to the scanner, Bruce waited to hear more about the emergency. After a few minutes there was talk of taking Gordon to the hospital. That was all Bruce needed to hear before the panic in his chest worsened. If Bruce played his cards right he could get to hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived.
Alfred close behind him looking rather annoyed that Bruce wasn't giving him an answer to his questions. Bruce was putting on the suit, the sounds of Alfred's voice being drowned out over the sound sliding Kevlar and rubber. Finally Bruce looked at Alfred and the older gentlemen stared him down for an answer once more.
“Master Wayne, what has happened?” the butler asked again, pressingly this time. Bruce picked up the cowl, holding it between two hands, fingers splayed on either side in a fierce grip.
“Emergency at the Gordon household. He's being taken to Gotham General,” Bruce replied as he slipped the cowl over his head, and straddled the Batpod. Alfred looked him over worriedly.
“It's still very light out, are you sure it's wise –” But Alfred was cut off by the roar of the engine and Bruce didn't hear what he had to say next. It was close enough to sun down that it didn't matter, he had to be sure Gordon was okay, that he would be okay. All the thoughts that ran through his head as he raced across Gotham made his head spin, but he kept focused; had to keep focused.
----
It was five hours before Gordon was let out surgery and placed into his own room. Bruce had staked out across the street on the rooftop of the a business building, waiting. But once he saw that Gordon was out of surgery and safely in his own room, Bruce was over there within seconds.
He was now in the dark room with nothing but the light of the moon outside, staring down into the calm face of Jim Gordon, tubes and wires surrounding the man's small frame, hooked up to every possible machine the hospital had available. Bruce watched the heart monitor; the line moving steadily up and down, reassuringly. At least Gordon was breathing, at least he was alive. Bruce had been able to catch a few conversations here and there, and the diagnosis was that Gordon suffered from a moderate heart attack, and was lucky enough not to need a cardiac bypass surgery.
It was bad enough that they had needed to do some surgery, go in and check things out. With the history of his wife having lung cancer, everyone was playing it safe. Bruce knew though that the heart attack was derived from Gordon not taking care of himself and being overly stressed out for nearly several months. He was a proud man and he rarely took a moment for himself when the rest of the world needed something. He was selfless and Bruce admired him for it.
Bruce watched Gordon for a few minutes longer, steadily grounded to his spot as if afraid he'd actually wake the older man. He wanted so badly to place a bare hand on the man's chest, to feel for himself the beating of his heart – to really know he hadn't lost Gordon yet. Most of all, that his kids would still have their father, at least, to care for them. Those kids did not need to lose another parent, not so soon, not ever.
Inching a few feet closer, Bruce reached out a gloved hand and touched the fingertips on Gordon's left hand. He expected no reaction, but Gordon's finger twitched a bit. No, Jim Gordon wasn't going anywhere.
Bruce sighed and stood at the head of the bed, kneeling down next to Gordon. “I'm so sorry, Jim. I could have done more to help. I should have done more. I...” But the words weren't coming out, and what he wanted to say was that he saw how stressed Gordon was and he had the means to help him but he didn't even try, didn't want to risk anything to ruin his own reputation. His secrets. All of those things seemed so minimal now... he should have risked it, should have offered the help – something.
Taking a deep breath, Bruce unsnapped the cowl from the base of the suit, pulling it over his head and placed it on the floor. He was on his knees now, about head height with the bed. He removed his gloves, throwing them down next to the cowl. He then slowly slipped his fingers around Gordon's left hand and held it tightly. He had taken advantage of Gordon's friendship – his loyalty – and in turn didn't give enough back. And Bruce knew he had more than enough to give.
This was his fault. Gordon was here because of him, because he could have helped.
Bruce dropped his head towards the bed, his forehead resting on their two entwined hands. Bruce sighed, listening to the heart monitor slowly beep its rhythm, slowly feeling his own heart sync up with it. He just wished that he had a moment where he could tell Gordon that his friendship was everything to him, that from the moment Bruce met him when he was nine years old he knew Gordon was one of those people the world couldn't live without.
But Bruce couldn't tell him those things and sentiments from Batman were unlikely in the future.
Gordon's hand moved suddenly, his body twitched and Bruce felt his own limbs freeze on the spot, lifting his head just slightly to look at the older man. In the moonlight he could Gordon's pale blue eyes watching him hazily. Bruce knew for a fact that Gordon's eye sight was terrible, there were no worries on him recognizing him without the cowl on. But still, there was a curious gaze on his face, along with some confusion.
“Jim...” Bruce found himself saying, the rasp of his voice deeper than he intended. Gordon blinked a few times, taking a deep breath, as if to try and grasp his bearings. Bruce removed his hand from Gordon's, but the man reached out and took it back, as if he needed to know some one was there.
“Batman?” More confusion in Gordon's voice, but he knew it was him. The hand that had taken Bruce's hand back moved to his face and hair. “You're not wearing your mask.”
“I wasn't expecting you to wake so soon,” Bruce replied, taking Gordon's hand and placing it back down on the bed. Gordon looked at him regretfully. “I came to check on you after I heard.”
“You didn't have to,” Gordon said, coughing slightly and then groaning as he grabbed at his chest. Bruce wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be fine, but none of that seemed right.
“No, I did.” Bruce bent down and picked up his cowl and gloves. “I'm sure you're children will want to see you.” He placed the cowl on and then slid his hands into each glove. He took one last look at Gordon and made a mental decision that he was going to do what he could to help. Bruce walked towards the door, aware that Gordon had said something else, but Bruce didn't catch it and he wasn't sure he wanted to either.
-----
It seemed odd to Gordon to wake to someone at his bedside that wasn't one of his children. Not wearing his glasses and it being dark didn't help to see the man, all he had seen was a blur of browns and black. He'd had never guessed Batman and brunette, but then again he never guessed anything about Batman. He was glad not to have been able to see, he'd never wanted to know who Batman really was, it never really crossed his mind, and knowing would just make it that much harder to do his job...
Oh, well that was something to consider now, too. Well, not right that minute, but he would have to figure the situation, his health and how his job and family was going to fit into to all of it. That was entirely different situation to think about. What he was really curious about was why Batman had been there are all. Sure, they were friends, pretty close in terms of knowing each other's usual mannerisms, but not close enough to sneak into Gordon's hospital room and be watching him sleep. It seemed... well he couldn't place the word he was looking for. Weird? Creepy? Annoying?
No. Those weren't words you used to describe a friend. But it was definitely something he wasn't expecting. Gordon wondered what made the man feel impelled show his vulnerability, whether Gordon would see him or not. It was risk, anyone could have walked in and seen him. Maybe Batman did care more about Gordon's well-being than he ever thought the vigilante was capable of.
There was a tap at his door followed by an intense flood yellow of light from the hallway. A nurse walked in and looked him over curiously. She turned the light on, stepping over to the bed side and checking the monitor by his head. Gordon merely followed her blurry form, trying not to squint to see her better.
“You're awake a bit sooner than we expected,” She said softly. “How are you feeling?”
Gordon hadn't really thought about how he felt, if anything he was feeling numb with a little ache in his chest; sore. He wasn't sure what he was suppose to feel after a heart attack, as he assumed that's what had happened. He looked at her, well past her since he couldn't quite see clearly, and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Um, okay?” He wasn't sure if she would get that he wasn't even sure himself, but she patted his shoulder, leaving her hand there for a few minutes as she checked his blood pressure.
“You're on some mild pain relievers, Commissioner. Not feeling too much is probably a good sign. If you do start to feel any stabbing or more than mild pain, let me know and we'll up the dose in your IV,” she explained. “It's well after visiting hours, but I know your children are waiting, would you like to see them? Or rest some more?”
Rest? Gordon thought. No he'd rather see his kids, know that they were fine, and have them stop worrying about him. God what they must have been thinking and feeling now, just days after their mother's death. He nodded at the nurse and she left the room. A few minutes later she was replaced by two new figures he assumed to be Jimmy and Babs.
Babs came up to his side, leaning over him and placing his glasses on his face. Now that he could see clearly, he looked up at her and smiled warily. She tipped her head to the side and returned the smile the best she could. She had obviously been crying, her eyes were blood shot and puffed around the edges. She took his hand and squeezed it.
Jimmy was standing at the edge of the bed, hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet. His son had had one moment of breakthrough with his mother before she died and there after he hid away into himself again. This was just one more bad incident to add to his son's worries. Gordon finally caught Jimmy's eye and motioned him to the other side of the bed. Jimmy trudged over, looking down at his dad sadly.
There was silence for a while, Babs kept a hold of Gordon's left hand and Jimmy merely kept his gaze moving around so he didn't have to look his dad in the eye again. There was a lot of pain in the boy's eyes, a lot of betrayal that was misplaced, and Gordon wanted nothing more than to hug his son to him and tell him that everything would be better here on out, that nothing else bad would happen. But it was a promise he couldn't really keep; in Gotham, anything was possible.
Finally Jimmy spoke, his voice sharp through the silence of the room, bleeding over the sounds of the machines around them. “Are you going to be okay, Dad?” There was less worry and more annoyance in Jimmy's voice than Gordon would have preferred, but he couldn't really expect anything else, either.
“Just a heart attack, son. I feel okay and I think I'm going to be just fine,” Gordon answered, watching his sons head nod slowly in acknowledgement. The teen didn't say anything else, keeping eyes on his shoes again. Babs glared over at her brother and Gordon shook his head at her not to be harsh. He finally understood what it was Barbara had tried to tell him about Jimmy, that he wasn't sure how to feel about things and just needed time to process. After all the boy had been through in four year, after being held at gunpoint by a manic Harvey Dent, it was really no surprise.
“You really scared us, Dad,” Babs said softly, sitting down at the side of the bed, keeping a firm hold of Gordon's hand.
Babs sighed after a few moments of what looked to be internal debate going on behind her eyes. “Mrs. Thompson from across the street has offered to come by and clean the house and make food and generally help out where possible. I told her that was fine, but he had it under control.” she paused and looked at her Dad with some understanding. “I know how you are about people snooping around.”
Gordon offered the best smile he muster under in his current situation, which wasn't much. Babs did know him well, and it had always been his thing not to have anyone they didn't know very well in their house to do anything. When they went on vacation and needed someone to water plants, it was always either Stephens or Montoya, and no one else. Gordon reached up his other hand and pulled back down into a hug, kissing her forehead.
“Don't know what I would do without you, sweetheart,” He said softly, and it was the honest truth. Without his kids he would have nothing left.
-----
After a five days in the hospital Gordon was allowed to leave. He expected to hear from Batman again, but it never happened. Maybe he was ashamed of how Gordon woke to him at his bedside, or maybe it was something else all together. He couldn't be sure and he was almost afraid he would never find out.
The doctors told Gordon he needed to reduce the stress in his life, exercise more and eat better. Eating better, easy. Exercising more, okay he could work on that. Reduce stress? Well there was no real way around doing that, his life was about to go into a fit of stress once he went back to his job. Which left Gordon with a few choices, since his doctors and his kids were forcing him to find ways to de-stress. Babs suggested that he take up the neighbor on helping out, but that was completely out of the question. Jimmy had nothing to suggest and only shrugged when asked his opinion. And Gordon's doctor suggested permanent retirement.
He was old enough by now to do that, he'd paid his time to the police force and they could definitely live off his retirement money. If he was asked this two days ago just waking up from surgery he would have said no, because he was aching to get back to work. But now that he had time to rest and actually feel the side effects of his heart attack and surgery, he was leaning more towards retirement. Everything ached, his chest felt like someone strapped a brick to it and it was definitely harder to breath. Even though the doctor said over time he would gain back stamina, it just didn't feel right to put himself back into a position where he wouldn't be able to take care of himself and not stress.
There was a piece of him though that was regretful of the decision. If he did this, if he took this rather selfish step, he would be turning his back on the city, on everything he once held above all else. On Batman. Oh, he knew that Batman was not going to take this well. A temporary leave was one thing, a permanent one was something else. Batman would have no one in the city ever again. Gordon could change that though, Gordon could go talk to Atkins, who would take his place for good, and straighten a few things out. If the man was smart he'd listen to Gordon and know that without Batman the city was doomed for destruction.
It was the most Gordon would be able to do. He had no choice in the matter if he felt like living to see his own grand children.
Gordon finished dressing into the jeans an t-shirt that Babs had brought from home, finding his shoes on the floor, he slipped them on. There was a knock at his door and nurse came in with a odd, curious look on her face. Gordon looked at her when she didn't answer right away, as if to ask what the issue was.
“There's a gentleman here to see you, sir. Uhm, a Mister Bruce Wayne,” she said hesitantly. Now Gordon understood her confusion. Bruce Wayne didn't visit anyone in hospitals, except dying patients in the children's ward to which he usually donated money. Not to mention, he and Bruce Wayne had never talked more than a few minutes in passing, usually in some rather odd circumstances involving either cars crashes, women, or being drunk in public. The last time he actually had any contact with Wayne was over a year ago. So, the question was, what did he want and why was he visiting Gordon at the hospital?
“Send him in, I guess,” Gordon answered, finally allowing his thoughts to rest. The nurse nodded and left the room only to be replaced by a sharply dressed, billionaire playboy. Gordon noted the stylish pin-striped gray suit, shiny black tie with shoes to match. Did Wayne ever do anything casual?
“Commissioner,” Wayne said cheerfully, a smile so bright plastered to his face that Gordon thought he might go blind looking at it. Wayne offered his hand to Gordon, who took it gradually. “Good to see you're doing well.”
Gordon nodded. “It will take a lot more to keep me down,” he found himself saying. For some reason Wayne brought the sarcasm out of him, a snarky attitude he didn't often use. What was it with Wayne and rubbing him the wrong way. “What can I do for you, Mister Wayne?”
“I had heard about all your sad news recently, you'll forgive me for not being on top of this sooner, but I have been so busy with business and vacations that I just now heard,” Wayne still had that smile on his face, and his tone was so self assured sounding that Gordon really did feel like punching him. Who the hell cared about Wayne's party life anyway? “But I wanted to offer first my condolences and second whatever help you might need. Anything, I'll be happy to give it.”
Gordon stared at Wayne as if the man had just punched Gordon in the gut and continued to kick him while he was down. Did the ignorant playboy really think that throwing money at situation would automatically make them better? And what bullshit to offer condolences now, if at all, when the other man hardly cared and had just barely even heard of Gordon's wife's passing. Oh, Wayne had definitely become the person Gordon was so afraid that nine year old would turn in to. Cold, uncaring, oblivious and stupid. Maybe stupid was harsh, but right then Gordon was not in the mood to deal with this.
“I don't what delusions you have, Wayne, but I do not need your help, I do not need your money and I damn well do not need your 'condolences'.” Gordon kept his tone even, but he raised his voice enough to show Wayne that he was obviously not wanted. Wayne just stared back at him, the smile on his face was completely gone and his eyes showed a lot of conflict. Gordon took a step forward and pushed a finger into the man's chest. “You think that everyone will just openly take your charity and the you'll be the city's hero for helping those in need. People will look up to you and you'll take another step up the tabloid ladder. Well here is some news for you: not everyone wants that. Not everyone likes you. To me, you're just some rich kid who took the wrong path after his parents died and instead of dealing with it like normal people, you chose to cover it up with money, booze and women. No, Mister Wayne, I do not want any of your filthy money or anything else you have to offer.”
Wayne didn't say a word. His face went blank and he took a deep breath, staring down at Gordon's finger placed firmly into his chest. “Thank you for your time, Commissioner,” the billionaire said steadily, taking a step back, turning on his heels. He walked out of the room.
Gordon could finally breath again, the hurt and ache in his chest pounding with every beat of his racing heart. He had wanted for so many years to say those words to Wayne and now that he had he felt oddly bad about it. There had been a sadness in Wayne's eyes as Gordon told him off, that showed that just maybe everything Gordon assumed was wrong. But he wasn't wrong, that was who Wayne was, that was who everyone saw. Wasn't it?
“Dad?” Babs called as she walked into the room. “Are you ready to go home?”
Of course the moment Bruce heard of Barbara Gordon's passing he immediately regretted all the thoughts he had had. Barbara had been Gordon's wife, the one person he had to share his life with and now she was gone. Bruce knew he could have helped, could have done something, but even all the money in the world couldn't stop cancer. There really was nothing anyone could have done more for Barbara Gordon.
The memorial would have been taking place by then and Bruce had so desperately wanted to do, to give condolences and be there for the family. However, Bruce Wayne had little to no contact with Gordon's personal life and coming forward at such a personal event would only raise suspicion – something Bruce didn't need right now. He'd try to go see the family later that week and see how Gordon was holding up and offer, again, whatever support the older man would need.
It was all he could do and it ate him apart inside to know that he couldn't really do more.
Bruce sat back in his chair, lifting his feet to the desk. He was watching old security footage from bank robberies in the past to keep his mind off Gordon. He had the police scanner on, listening for any activity there might be going on. So far, it was going to be a slow evening.
He sped through some of the footage, watching for things he could take with him the next he heard about another robbery from these particular bank robbers. And as Bruce hit the stop button on the remote he heard an emergency call come in over the scanner. He paused the video, leaning forward to hear it better. A woman dispatcher was calling for all emergency vehicles, including ambulances, to an address Bruce new by heart after many midnight meetings.
Jim Gordon's house.
Listening a little more closely to the scanner, Bruce waited to hear more about the emergency. After a few minutes there was talk of taking Gordon to the hospital. That was all Bruce needed to hear before the panic in his chest worsened. If Bruce played his cards right he could get to hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived.
Alfred close behind him looking rather annoyed that Bruce wasn't giving him an answer to his questions. Bruce was putting on the suit, the sounds of Alfred's voice being drowned out over the sound sliding Kevlar and rubber. Finally Bruce looked at Alfred and the older gentlemen stared him down for an answer once more.
“Master Wayne, what has happened?” the butler asked again, pressingly this time. Bruce picked up the cowl, holding it between two hands, fingers splayed on either side in a fierce grip.
“Emergency at the Gordon household. He's being taken to Gotham General,” Bruce replied as he slipped the cowl over his head, and straddled the Batpod. Alfred looked him over worriedly.
“It's still very light out, are you sure it's wise –” But Alfred was cut off by the roar of the engine and Bruce didn't hear what he had to say next. It was close enough to sun down that it didn't matter, he had to be sure Gordon was okay, that he would be okay. All the thoughts that ran through his head as he raced across Gotham made his head spin, but he kept focused; had to keep focused.
----
It was five hours before Gordon was let out surgery and placed into his own room. Bruce had staked out across the street on the rooftop of the a business building, waiting. But once he saw that Gordon was out of surgery and safely in his own room, Bruce was over there within seconds.
He was now in the dark room with nothing but the light of the moon outside, staring down into the calm face of Jim Gordon, tubes and wires surrounding the man's small frame, hooked up to every possible machine the hospital had available. Bruce watched the heart monitor; the line moving steadily up and down, reassuringly. At least Gordon was breathing, at least he was alive. Bruce had been able to catch a few conversations here and there, and the diagnosis was that Gordon suffered from a moderate heart attack, and was lucky enough not to need a cardiac bypass surgery.
It was bad enough that they had needed to do some surgery, go in and check things out. With the history of his wife having lung cancer, everyone was playing it safe. Bruce knew though that the heart attack was derived from Gordon not taking care of himself and being overly stressed out for nearly several months. He was a proud man and he rarely took a moment for himself when the rest of the world needed something. He was selfless and Bruce admired him for it.
Bruce watched Gordon for a few minutes longer, steadily grounded to his spot as if afraid he'd actually wake the older man. He wanted so badly to place a bare hand on the man's chest, to feel for himself the beating of his heart – to really know he hadn't lost Gordon yet. Most of all, that his kids would still have their father, at least, to care for them. Those kids did not need to lose another parent, not so soon, not ever.
Inching a few feet closer, Bruce reached out a gloved hand and touched the fingertips on Gordon's left hand. He expected no reaction, but Gordon's finger twitched a bit. No, Jim Gordon wasn't going anywhere.
Bruce sighed and stood at the head of the bed, kneeling down next to Gordon. “I'm so sorry, Jim. I could have done more to help. I should have done more. I...” But the words weren't coming out, and what he wanted to say was that he saw how stressed Gordon was and he had the means to help him but he didn't even try, didn't want to risk anything to ruin his own reputation. His secrets. All of those things seemed so minimal now... he should have risked it, should have offered the help – something.
Taking a deep breath, Bruce unsnapped the cowl from the base of the suit, pulling it over his head and placed it on the floor. He was on his knees now, about head height with the bed. He removed his gloves, throwing them down next to the cowl. He then slowly slipped his fingers around Gordon's left hand and held it tightly. He had taken advantage of Gordon's friendship – his loyalty – and in turn didn't give enough back. And Bruce knew he had more than enough to give.
This was his fault. Gordon was here because of him, because he could have helped.
Bruce dropped his head towards the bed, his forehead resting on their two entwined hands. Bruce sighed, listening to the heart monitor slowly beep its rhythm, slowly feeling his own heart sync up with it. He just wished that he had a moment where he could tell Gordon that his friendship was everything to him, that from the moment Bruce met him when he was nine years old he knew Gordon was one of those people the world couldn't live without.
But Bruce couldn't tell him those things and sentiments from Batman were unlikely in the future.
Gordon's hand moved suddenly, his body twitched and Bruce felt his own limbs freeze on the spot, lifting his head just slightly to look at the older man. In the moonlight he could Gordon's pale blue eyes watching him hazily. Bruce knew for a fact that Gordon's eye sight was terrible, there were no worries on him recognizing him without the cowl on. But still, there was a curious gaze on his face, along with some confusion.
“Jim...” Bruce found himself saying, the rasp of his voice deeper than he intended. Gordon blinked a few times, taking a deep breath, as if to try and grasp his bearings. Bruce removed his hand from Gordon's, but the man reached out and took it back, as if he needed to know some one was there.
“Batman?” More confusion in Gordon's voice, but he knew it was him. The hand that had taken Bruce's hand back moved to his face and hair. “You're not wearing your mask.”
“I wasn't expecting you to wake so soon,” Bruce replied, taking Gordon's hand and placing it back down on the bed. Gordon looked at him regretfully. “I came to check on you after I heard.”
“You didn't have to,” Gordon said, coughing slightly and then groaning as he grabbed at his chest. Bruce wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be fine, but none of that seemed right.
“No, I did.” Bruce bent down and picked up his cowl and gloves. “I'm sure you're children will want to see you.” He placed the cowl on and then slid his hands into each glove. He took one last look at Gordon and made a mental decision that he was going to do what he could to help. Bruce walked towards the door, aware that Gordon had said something else, but Bruce didn't catch it and he wasn't sure he wanted to either.
-----
It seemed odd to Gordon to wake to someone at his bedside that wasn't one of his children. Not wearing his glasses and it being dark didn't help to see the man, all he had seen was a blur of browns and black. He'd had never guessed Batman and brunette, but then again he never guessed anything about Batman. He was glad not to have been able to see, he'd never wanted to know who Batman really was, it never really crossed his mind, and knowing would just make it that much harder to do his job...
Oh, well that was something to consider now, too. Well, not right that minute, but he would have to figure the situation, his health and how his job and family was going to fit into to all of it. That was entirely different situation to think about. What he was really curious about was why Batman had been there are all. Sure, they were friends, pretty close in terms of knowing each other's usual mannerisms, but not close enough to sneak into Gordon's hospital room and be watching him sleep. It seemed... well he couldn't place the word he was looking for. Weird? Creepy? Annoying?
No. Those weren't words you used to describe a friend. But it was definitely something he wasn't expecting. Gordon wondered what made the man feel impelled show his vulnerability, whether Gordon would see him or not. It was risk, anyone could have walked in and seen him. Maybe Batman did care more about Gordon's well-being than he ever thought the vigilante was capable of.
There was a tap at his door followed by an intense flood yellow of light from the hallway. A nurse walked in and looked him over curiously. She turned the light on, stepping over to the bed side and checking the monitor by his head. Gordon merely followed her blurry form, trying not to squint to see her better.
“You're awake a bit sooner than we expected,” She said softly. “How are you feeling?”
Gordon hadn't really thought about how he felt, if anything he was feeling numb with a little ache in his chest; sore. He wasn't sure what he was suppose to feel after a heart attack, as he assumed that's what had happened. He looked at her, well past her since he couldn't quite see clearly, and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Um, okay?” He wasn't sure if she would get that he wasn't even sure himself, but she patted his shoulder, leaving her hand there for a few minutes as she checked his blood pressure.
“You're on some mild pain relievers, Commissioner. Not feeling too much is probably a good sign. If you do start to feel any stabbing or more than mild pain, let me know and we'll up the dose in your IV,” she explained. “It's well after visiting hours, but I know your children are waiting, would you like to see them? Or rest some more?”
Rest? Gordon thought. No he'd rather see his kids, know that they were fine, and have them stop worrying about him. God what they must have been thinking and feeling now, just days after their mother's death. He nodded at the nurse and she left the room. A few minutes later she was replaced by two new figures he assumed to be Jimmy and Babs.
Babs came up to his side, leaning over him and placing his glasses on his face. Now that he could see clearly, he looked up at her and smiled warily. She tipped her head to the side and returned the smile the best she could. She had obviously been crying, her eyes were blood shot and puffed around the edges. She took his hand and squeezed it.
Jimmy was standing at the edge of the bed, hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet. His son had had one moment of breakthrough with his mother before she died and there after he hid away into himself again. This was just one more bad incident to add to his son's worries. Gordon finally caught Jimmy's eye and motioned him to the other side of the bed. Jimmy trudged over, looking down at his dad sadly.
There was silence for a while, Babs kept a hold of Gordon's left hand and Jimmy merely kept his gaze moving around so he didn't have to look his dad in the eye again. There was a lot of pain in the boy's eyes, a lot of betrayal that was misplaced, and Gordon wanted nothing more than to hug his son to him and tell him that everything would be better here on out, that nothing else bad would happen. But it was a promise he couldn't really keep; in Gotham, anything was possible.
Finally Jimmy spoke, his voice sharp through the silence of the room, bleeding over the sounds of the machines around them. “Are you going to be okay, Dad?” There was less worry and more annoyance in Jimmy's voice than Gordon would have preferred, but he couldn't really expect anything else, either.
“Just a heart attack, son. I feel okay and I think I'm going to be just fine,” Gordon answered, watching his sons head nod slowly in acknowledgement. The teen didn't say anything else, keeping eyes on his shoes again. Babs glared over at her brother and Gordon shook his head at her not to be harsh. He finally understood what it was Barbara had tried to tell him about Jimmy, that he wasn't sure how to feel about things and just needed time to process. After all the boy had been through in four year, after being held at gunpoint by a manic Harvey Dent, it was really no surprise.
“You really scared us, Dad,” Babs said softly, sitting down at the side of the bed, keeping a firm hold of Gordon's hand.
Babs sighed after a few moments of what looked to be internal debate going on behind her eyes. “Mrs. Thompson from across the street has offered to come by and clean the house and make food and generally help out where possible. I told her that was fine, but he had it under control.” she paused and looked at her Dad with some understanding. “I know how you are about people snooping around.”
Gordon offered the best smile he muster under in his current situation, which wasn't much. Babs did know him well, and it had always been his thing not to have anyone they didn't know very well in their house to do anything. When they went on vacation and needed someone to water plants, it was always either Stephens or Montoya, and no one else. Gordon reached up his other hand and pulled back down into a hug, kissing her forehead.
“Don't know what I would do without you, sweetheart,” He said softly, and it was the honest truth. Without his kids he would have nothing left.
-----
After a five days in the hospital Gordon was allowed to leave. He expected to hear from Batman again, but it never happened. Maybe he was ashamed of how Gordon woke to him at his bedside, or maybe it was something else all together. He couldn't be sure and he was almost afraid he would never find out.
The doctors told Gordon he needed to reduce the stress in his life, exercise more and eat better. Eating better, easy. Exercising more, okay he could work on that. Reduce stress? Well there was no real way around doing that, his life was about to go into a fit of stress once he went back to his job. Which left Gordon with a few choices, since his doctors and his kids were forcing him to find ways to de-stress. Babs suggested that he take up the neighbor on helping out, but that was completely out of the question. Jimmy had nothing to suggest and only shrugged when asked his opinion. And Gordon's doctor suggested permanent retirement.
He was old enough by now to do that, he'd paid his time to the police force and they could definitely live off his retirement money. If he was asked this two days ago just waking up from surgery he would have said no, because he was aching to get back to work. But now that he had time to rest and actually feel the side effects of his heart attack and surgery, he was leaning more towards retirement. Everything ached, his chest felt like someone strapped a brick to it and it was definitely harder to breath. Even though the doctor said over time he would gain back stamina, it just didn't feel right to put himself back into a position where he wouldn't be able to take care of himself and not stress.
There was a piece of him though that was regretful of the decision. If he did this, if he took this rather selfish step, he would be turning his back on the city, on everything he once held above all else. On Batman. Oh, he knew that Batman was not going to take this well. A temporary leave was one thing, a permanent one was something else. Batman would have no one in the city ever again. Gordon could change that though, Gordon could go talk to Atkins, who would take his place for good, and straighten a few things out. If the man was smart he'd listen to Gordon and know that without Batman the city was doomed for destruction.
It was the most Gordon would be able to do. He had no choice in the matter if he felt like living to see his own grand children.
Gordon finished dressing into the jeans an t-shirt that Babs had brought from home, finding his shoes on the floor, he slipped them on. There was a knock at his door and nurse came in with a odd, curious look on her face. Gordon looked at her when she didn't answer right away, as if to ask what the issue was.
“There's a gentleman here to see you, sir. Uhm, a Mister Bruce Wayne,” she said hesitantly. Now Gordon understood her confusion. Bruce Wayne didn't visit anyone in hospitals, except dying patients in the children's ward to which he usually donated money. Not to mention, he and Bruce Wayne had never talked more than a few minutes in passing, usually in some rather odd circumstances involving either cars crashes, women, or being drunk in public. The last time he actually had any contact with Wayne was over a year ago. So, the question was, what did he want and why was he visiting Gordon at the hospital?
“Send him in, I guess,” Gordon answered, finally allowing his thoughts to rest. The nurse nodded and left the room only to be replaced by a sharply dressed, billionaire playboy. Gordon noted the stylish pin-striped gray suit, shiny black tie with shoes to match. Did Wayne ever do anything casual?
“Commissioner,” Wayne said cheerfully, a smile so bright plastered to his face that Gordon thought he might go blind looking at it. Wayne offered his hand to Gordon, who took it gradually. “Good to see you're doing well.”
Gordon nodded. “It will take a lot more to keep me down,” he found himself saying. For some reason Wayne brought the sarcasm out of him, a snarky attitude he didn't often use. What was it with Wayne and rubbing him the wrong way. “What can I do for you, Mister Wayne?”
“I had heard about all your sad news recently, you'll forgive me for not being on top of this sooner, but I have been so busy with business and vacations that I just now heard,” Wayne still had that smile on his face, and his tone was so self assured sounding that Gordon really did feel like punching him. Who the hell cared about Wayne's party life anyway? “But I wanted to offer first my condolences and second whatever help you might need. Anything, I'll be happy to give it.”
Gordon stared at Wayne as if the man had just punched Gordon in the gut and continued to kick him while he was down. Did the ignorant playboy really think that throwing money at situation would automatically make them better? And what bullshit to offer condolences now, if at all, when the other man hardly cared and had just barely even heard of Gordon's wife's passing. Oh, Wayne had definitely become the person Gordon was so afraid that nine year old would turn in to. Cold, uncaring, oblivious and stupid. Maybe stupid was harsh, but right then Gordon was not in the mood to deal with this.
“I don't what delusions you have, Wayne, but I do not need your help, I do not need your money and I damn well do not need your 'condolences'.” Gordon kept his tone even, but he raised his voice enough to show Wayne that he was obviously not wanted. Wayne just stared back at him, the smile on his face was completely gone and his eyes showed a lot of conflict. Gordon took a step forward and pushed a finger into the man's chest. “You think that everyone will just openly take your charity and the you'll be the city's hero for helping those in need. People will look up to you and you'll take another step up the tabloid ladder. Well here is some news for you: not everyone wants that. Not everyone likes you. To me, you're just some rich kid who took the wrong path after his parents died and instead of dealing with it like normal people, you chose to cover it up with money, booze and women. No, Mister Wayne, I do not want any of your filthy money or anything else you have to offer.”
Wayne didn't say a word. His face went blank and he took a deep breath, staring down at Gordon's finger placed firmly into his chest. “Thank you for your time, Commissioner,” the billionaire said steadily, taking a step back, turning on his heels. He walked out of the room.
Gordon could finally breath again, the hurt and ache in his chest pounding with every beat of his racing heart. He had wanted for so many years to say those words to Wayne and now that he had he felt oddly bad about it. There had been a sadness in Wayne's eyes as Gordon told him off, that showed that just maybe everything Gordon assumed was wrong. But he wasn't wrong, that was who Wayne was, that was who everyone saw. Wasn't it?
“Dad?” Babs called as she walked into the room. “Are you ready to go home?”