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Momentum:
Chapter Three
written by destinyawakened
When Gordon had finally made the decision to not go back to work but to retire instead the whole precinct went into an uproar. He had made the announcement in front of everyone, to be sure no one was left to find out from some God-awful rumors. Stephens sighed, Montoya folded her arms over her chest, and Bullock glared at him. The rest of officers had disbanded after shaking Gordon's hand and giving some more unneeded condolences. Gordon found himself left with the three that cared more about what he did than the rest of the police force.
He shrugged at them as they stood in an unbearable silence. He took one deep breath, looking over at the office door that once had his name on it. He would miss this, he would miss every single officer, every detective, every late night run... everything. But there were no regrets; he knew that his choice was the best choice, no matter what anyone said to him after this, no one was going to bring him down.
“We went seven months without you and didn't say a thing. We thought for sure you'd come back,” Montoya said. It was a statement, but her words were almost hurtful, even if she didn't mean it that way. She smiled a little, relaxing her attitude. “It won't be the same here without you.”
Stephens nodded. “Atkins is okay, but he isn't you. You had your heart into this job, he's just here for the paycheck. If you know what I mean.”
Gordon smiled. “I do. I plan to talk to him here a while. There's a few things he ought to know about... Gotham. Things a lot of people don't know.”
“You mean the Bat?” Bullock asked, finally chipping in his voice to the conversation. Gordon looked at him in question. He never once told any of his detectives about his still on-going partnership with Batman; everyone still assumed the vigilante was cop killer and murderer. “Don't think we haven't figured it out. Yeah, we're all be pretty decent detectives, but sometimes you get tips that we shouldn't even know about or could have known about.”
“Why didn't you say something sooner?” Gordon asked, looking over the faces of Montoya and Stephens, who were both nodding an agreement.
Montoya shrugged. “We figured you'd say something when the time came. The three of us never pegged him as a killer anyway. That was too much of a turn around from the Batman we'd all seen before.” So, at least Batman would have some detectives on his side, and not all would be lost. The question would be whether or not Batman trusted the three detectives enough to work with them just as he had worked with Gordon?
“You know, I don't think he's going to take this well,” Stephen's said after they were silent for a few moments. “Bad enough he wouldn't talk to any of us after you went on leave. Not that we can blame him, with Atkins ordering the 'shoot on sight' policy.”
Gordon had almost forgotten about that. Now he'd really need to have that conversation with the new commissioner. Gordon was so afraid for Gotham City if things didn't change. That was when he almost regretted his decision.
-----
Gordon walked to the top of MCU, opening the rooftop door and stepping into the familiar scent of tar, dust and smog – the smells of the city. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, walking towards the still smashed Batsignal. Even after four years no one had bothered to clean it, every piece lay shattered just as it were when he first took the ax to it. For a lot of the detectives it was a reminder that Batman was a savage killer, but to Gordon it was reminder of a piece of his life he had to start hiding.
He kicked one of the shattered pieces and stepped over the rest as he looked into the now hollow spotlight, rusted from the winters past. There was no coming back to this after today, no remembering the choices he and Batman had made that night. There was just his children now and focusing on his own health. He couldn't worry about Gotham, or anything that had to do with it. Which was why he was up there to begin with, waiting for Michael Atkins.
The door swung open and a man about Gordon's height with dark skin appeared. He shut the door behind him and walked over to Gordon. Gordon turned around and leaned his back against the broken spotlight and waited for the man to approach him. Atkins held out a hand as he paced to a stop in from of Gordon.
“Jim,” he said confidently, shaking Gordon's hand.
“Mike,” Gordon replied. Atkins peered behind Gordon at the spotlight and down at the broken pieces on the ground.
“I'm going to catch him,” Atkins said sternly and Gordon immediately shook his head at the man.
“No. You won't.” Gordon made it clear in his voice that the other man had no idea what he was doing, that he needed to ask Gordon or he might never know. But he didn't. Gordon sighed and pushed his hands deep into his pockets again. “Look, Mike, there's a lot about that day I never told anyone. The only people who know are my kids, me and Batman. We don't talk about it, any of us. But, I think as the new commissioner it's important you know and understand a few things before you get in over your head.”
Atkins stared at Gordon with a good amount of confusion in his eyes. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“You're going to want Batman on your side. No, you're going to need him on your side. Or this city is going to fall so far out of your grasp that you're going to end up like Loeb,” Gordon explained to the other man. Atkins started to shake his head, moving his hands in a gesture of 'no' and confusion.
“But Batman is a killer –” Atkins began to say, but Gordon quickly placed both hands on the man's shoulders and stared him straight in the eyes.
“That's the story and that's what people believe for the sake of covering up for Dent. You don't tell anyone otherwise. But you know the truth now, and that is Batman didn't kill those people. Dent did. You can chose to take this information and try to form some kind of allegiance with him, or you can not. I'm just giving you a fair warning that Gotham City is falling and you can't just breeze by and expect things to get better. You need him and he's going to need you.”
-----
Bruce found he hated Commissioner Michael Atkins more than he hated most of the criminals in Gotham.
As a habit, Bruce often stopped up on the rooftop of MCU, mostly as a memory these days, but in the past just to see if Gordon was around. He did that this night and he was surprised to see Atkins standing there by the broken flood light. Curiosity got the best of Bruce and landed down in the shadows, sneaking up on the man to see what it was he wanted. Apparently Gordon had retired, which Bruce had not heard about yet, and Atkins was taking his place for good. Gordon had wanted Batman and the new commissioner to be allies, if not partners. Atkins said that Gordon told him about four years ago and everything else.
In the end, Bruce said he would help where needed, but in his heart he knew that Atkins would have to prove himself worthy of his time and effort. This man was not Jim Gordon. Michael Atkins was a police officer that Batman had yet to investigate, to know if he was actually a good cop or not.
But none of that was why Bruce hated him. It was because he was taking Gordon's spot for good. But maybe his anger and hatred was a little misplaced. He should have been mad at Gordon. No, he was mad at Gordon. The older man didn't even talk to him about it, didn't call when he could have to at least let him know... nothing.
It was why Bruce was sitting out on the rafters of the Gordon's porch and waiting. He wasn't sure how often Gordon came out here anymore, if he needed to or not now that Barbara had passed. Bruce hoped he would though, because he had all these words built up in his mind that he wanted to get off his chest.
It didn't help that yesterday Gordon had blown up at him, not when he was Batman, but as Bruce Wayne, the playboy. Bruce thought for sure that Gordon would take some help, but he apparently had been mistaken. Gordon was a proud man and Bruce often – and quite ignorantly – forgot that he didn't taken any kind of charity from anyone.
Just like clockwork – like old times – Gordon walked out the front door at exactly nine in the evening. It was the time the kids went to bed. Gordon had his sweats on, a t-shirt, a robe and slippers. Bruce had never seen him this casual before. Bruce waited for the split second it would take Gordon to notice him there, but it didn't come. The heart attack, apparently, had slowed down whatever reflexes and instincts the man had. Which explained a lot of why he thought he needed to retire.
“When were you going to tell me?” Bruce asks, throwing his voice into a growl. Gordon turned his head at the voice, looking up at Bruce expectantly. Bruce was far from amused, and far from feeling gracious right now. Whether Gordon had just gotten out of the hospital yesterday or not, he had no right to not converse with Batman on his decisions in their city. He was abandoning everything, everyone, Bruce – Batman.
“Now?” Gordon offered, his eyes showing that he was really sorry, that he hadn't really meant to hurt anyone's feelings. But Bruce didn't buy it, he was angry, hurt, and betrayed. Bruce merely stared at the older man and finally Gordon took a few steps towards the railing that Bruce was perched on. “I didn't have a lot of time to decide, I had to make a plan with my doctor and if I wanted to go home. It had to be done before I left.”
“You didn't even talk this over with me,” Bruce said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.
“Why would I have needed to? This was my choice. We might be friends, but what I do with my life is none of your concern, especially when it comes to my health. I had to do this. I needed to take the stress out of my life or risk another heart attack.” Gordon's tone went from a friendly and apologetic to a serious, firm one. Bruce didn't like it, he didn't like that everything in his city – with Gordon, just everything – was falling apart around him. He couldn't fix it.
“This city needs you, Jim. Everything we worked so hard to build and fix is going to fall apart with out you. There are other ways to prevent stress at work. You're taking the easy way out and turning your back on everything!” Bruce felt his anger was getting the best of him, and what he really wanted to do was get into Gordon's face push his own thoughts into the man's brain. Gordon couldn't have been thinking right, the heart attack must have made him lose braincells.
Gordon looked at Bruce with a bewildered scoff ready to come out of his mouth. He shook his head. “There are no other ways! I checked all of them! Do you think I wanted it this way? Don't you think if I could have had my position with less responsibility and less stress I would have taken it?” Gordon asked, he was on the verge of yelling, but they both knew that the neighbors didn't need to hear it, and he quickly lowered his tone. “I've done everything I can for this city and now it's up to Commissioner Atkins and you to finish it.”
“Atkins isn't you. He doesn't care about this this city the way you do,” Bruce growled, and then he stood, jumping down next to Gordon, getting right into his face. “The way you did.” And then he took out his grappling hook and shoot it across the street at a tall building and took off. Whatever Gordon was going to say to that, he didn't really want to hear it. There wasn't anything left to be said and Bruce was done feeling as though his best friend had just stabbed him in the back.
-----
Gordon stood outside on the porch a few more minutes even after Batman had left in a his fury of anger. He wasn't sure why he had thought that Batman would have understood, but he did. It made him wonder for a brief minute or two about the man under the cowl and just what things he had gone through in life to feel so insecure about changes in Gotham. Mostly, changes with Gordon. Was the man abandoned as a child? Did he have friends? Mental issues? Gordon would never know, didn't want to know for sure, but the thought stuck with him.
What also stuck with him were the words Batman used. Was Gordon really turning his back on the city by taking an early retirement for his own health? Or was Batman just upset because Gordon hadn't taken the time to talk it over with him first and therefore felt betrayed and said somethings he probably didn't mean? Maybe both. Gordon had started to feel the regret more as the day wore on, but his decision was solid and he wasn't about to change it.
Finally, when it was very apparent the Bat was not coming back, Gordon made his way into the house. He closed the door behind him and walked past the kitchen, flipping the lights off and headed towards his bedroom. He didn't bother with the light, stripping out of his robe and crawled into bed. He took off his glasses and placed them neatly on the nightstand. He then grabbed the pillow from what used to be Barbara's side of the bed and curled up into it on his side. It was his first night at home in their bed without her. Before the funeral and the memorial he slept on the couch, afraid to sleep in a bed they once shared. But now it seemed that the only way to move forward was to push out those fears and sleep.
----
Gordon started off his mornings now with running. Nothing fast, but a steady paced run that Babs insisted on taking with him. Of course, with Babs going with him it meant they were up at five in the morning. After a week Gordon had become used to it, and he and Babs often stopped at the corner diner for breakfast before heading back home.
They returned home this particular morning with food in hand for Jimmy. It was Saturday and he was actually out of his room before noon. In fact, it wasn't even seven in the morning yet and Jimmy was out in the living room watching cartoons. Babs placed the food down in his lap, messing up his hair with her hands as she walked by. He glared up at her, that brooding little stare he so often gave everyone.
“Aren't you a little old for cartoons,” she teased as she walked down the hallway to the bathroom to shower. Jimmy looked as if he were about to yell a comeback at her but he caught Gordon's eye and shut his mouth.
Gordon raised an eyebrow at him. “You're up early,” he said, not so much a question but stating an obvious. The teen opened the container of food, pancakes, and used the disposable fork to eat them.
“Yeah,” Jimmy replied through a mouthful of food. He turned his attention back to the cartoons. Gordon placed his hands on his hips and glared at his son in concern. It had been two weeks now since their mother died and a little over a week since he'd been back from the hospital. He expected Jimmy to have moved on some, but he still wasn't cooperating. Barbara was so much better with the kids, Gordon thought. He felt so lost without her.
He didn't know how to do the laundry properly, as Babs had to show him how at least three times a week. Apparently he didn't add enough fabric softener to the towels, or rinse the dishes well enough before putting them in the dishwasher. The only thing he did do right was brushing his teeth and taking piss. Apparently. Babs often took over the household chores because he just didn't do them the way “mom used to”. So in the long run he felt like he was in the way when the children were home. When they weren't at home he didn't know what to do with himself. He knew if he touched the chores list Babs would find something wrong with what he'd done later and redo it herself.
This left Gordon feeling useless, regretful even. Maybe he could have kept his job, because he was sure that sitting at home and watching soap operas on television was going to end up being more of hazard for him then being at MCU in an office most of the time doing paperwork. Not that he could change his mind, he'd just have to find some kind of hobby.
“Jimmy,” Gordon said as he walked across the kitchen to the living room. His son didn't even look up. Gordon started to feel that he would need to get someone for his son to talk to, a therapist, or something. But getting the boy to go... well that was going to be a little harder. Gordon wished his son would just open up, talk about it. He didn't want to push him though to do something he wasn't comfortable with, but he didn't want his son to fall into a depression either.
Again, he was reminded of Bruce Wayne. He was not going to let what happened to that boy happen to his son.
He shrugged at them as they stood in an unbearable silence. He took one deep breath, looking over at the office door that once had his name on it. He would miss this, he would miss every single officer, every detective, every late night run... everything. But there were no regrets; he knew that his choice was the best choice, no matter what anyone said to him after this, no one was going to bring him down.
“We went seven months without you and didn't say a thing. We thought for sure you'd come back,” Montoya said. It was a statement, but her words were almost hurtful, even if she didn't mean it that way. She smiled a little, relaxing her attitude. “It won't be the same here without you.”
Stephens nodded. “Atkins is okay, but he isn't you. You had your heart into this job, he's just here for the paycheck. If you know what I mean.”
Gordon smiled. “I do. I plan to talk to him here a while. There's a few things he ought to know about... Gotham. Things a lot of people don't know.”
“You mean the Bat?” Bullock asked, finally chipping in his voice to the conversation. Gordon looked at him in question. He never once told any of his detectives about his still on-going partnership with Batman; everyone still assumed the vigilante was cop killer and murderer. “Don't think we haven't figured it out. Yeah, we're all be pretty decent detectives, but sometimes you get tips that we shouldn't even know about or could have known about.”
“Why didn't you say something sooner?” Gordon asked, looking over the faces of Montoya and Stephens, who were both nodding an agreement.
Montoya shrugged. “We figured you'd say something when the time came. The three of us never pegged him as a killer anyway. That was too much of a turn around from the Batman we'd all seen before.” So, at least Batman would have some detectives on his side, and not all would be lost. The question would be whether or not Batman trusted the three detectives enough to work with them just as he had worked with Gordon?
“You know, I don't think he's going to take this well,” Stephen's said after they were silent for a few moments. “Bad enough he wouldn't talk to any of us after you went on leave. Not that we can blame him, with Atkins ordering the 'shoot on sight' policy.”
Gordon had almost forgotten about that. Now he'd really need to have that conversation with the new commissioner. Gordon was so afraid for Gotham City if things didn't change. That was when he almost regretted his decision.
-----
Gordon walked to the top of MCU, opening the rooftop door and stepping into the familiar scent of tar, dust and smog – the smells of the city. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, walking towards the still smashed Batsignal. Even after four years no one had bothered to clean it, every piece lay shattered just as it were when he first took the ax to it. For a lot of the detectives it was a reminder that Batman was a savage killer, but to Gordon it was reminder of a piece of his life he had to start hiding.
He kicked one of the shattered pieces and stepped over the rest as he looked into the now hollow spotlight, rusted from the winters past. There was no coming back to this after today, no remembering the choices he and Batman had made that night. There was just his children now and focusing on his own health. He couldn't worry about Gotham, or anything that had to do with it. Which was why he was up there to begin with, waiting for Michael Atkins.
The door swung open and a man about Gordon's height with dark skin appeared. He shut the door behind him and walked over to Gordon. Gordon turned around and leaned his back against the broken spotlight and waited for the man to approach him. Atkins held out a hand as he paced to a stop in from of Gordon.
“Jim,” he said confidently, shaking Gordon's hand.
“Mike,” Gordon replied. Atkins peered behind Gordon at the spotlight and down at the broken pieces on the ground.
“I'm going to catch him,” Atkins said sternly and Gordon immediately shook his head at the man.
“No. You won't.” Gordon made it clear in his voice that the other man had no idea what he was doing, that he needed to ask Gordon or he might never know. But he didn't. Gordon sighed and pushed his hands deep into his pockets again. “Look, Mike, there's a lot about that day I never told anyone. The only people who know are my kids, me and Batman. We don't talk about it, any of us. But, I think as the new commissioner it's important you know and understand a few things before you get in over your head.”
Atkins stared at Gordon with a good amount of confusion in his eyes. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“You're going to want Batman on your side. No, you're going to need him on your side. Or this city is going to fall so far out of your grasp that you're going to end up like Loeb,” Gordon explained to the other man. Atkins started to shake his head, moving his hands in a gesture of 'no' and confusion.
“But Batman is a killer –” Atkins began to say, but Gordon quickly placed both hands on the man's shoulders and stared him straight in the eyes.
“That's the story and that's what people believe for the sake of covering up for Dent. You don't tell anyone otherwise. But you know the truth now, and that is Batman didn't kill those people. Dent did. You can chose to take this information and try to form some kind of allegiance with him, or you can not. I'm just giving you a fair warning that Gotham City is falling and you can't just breeze by and expect things to get better. You need him and he's going to need you.”
-----
Bruce found he hated Commissioner Michael Atkins more than he hated most of the criminals in Gotham.
As a habit, Bruce often stopped up on the rooftop of MCU, mostly as a memory these days, but in the past just to see if Gordon was around. He did that this night and he was surprised to see Atkins standing there by the broken flood light. Curiosity got the best of Bruce and landed down in the shadows, sneaking up on the man to see what it was he wanted. Apparently Gordon had retired, which Bruce had not heard about yet, and Atkins was taking his place for good. Gordon had wanted Batman and the new commissioner to be allies, if not partners. Atkins said that Gordon told him about four years ago and everything else.
In the end, Bruce said he would help where needed, but in his heart he knew that Atkins would have to prove himself worthy of his time and effort. This man was not Jim Gordon. Michael Atkins was a police officer that Batman had yet to investigate, to know if he was actually a good cop or not.
But none of that was why Bruce hated him. It was because he was taking Gordon's spot for good. But maybe his anger and hatred was a little misplaced. He should have been mad at Gordon. No, he was mad at Gordon. The older man didn't even talk to him about it, didn't call when he could have to at least let him know... nothing.
It was why Bruce was sitting out on the rafters of the Gordon's porch and waiting. He wasn't sure how often Gordon came out here anymore, if he needed to or not now that Barbara had passed. Bruce hoped he would though, because he had all these words built up in his mind that he wanted to get off his chest.
It didn't help that yesterday Gordon had blown up at him, not when he was Batman, but as Bruce Wayne, the playboy. Bruce thought for sure that Gordon would take some help, but he apparently had been mistaken. Gordon was a proud man and Bruce often – and quite ignorantly – forgot that he didn't taken any kind of charity from anyone.
Just like clockwork – like old times – Gordon walked out the front door at exactly nine in the evening. It was the time the kids went to bed. Gordon had his sweats on, a t-shirt, a robe and slippers. Bruce had never seen him this casual before. Bruce waited for the split second it would take Gordon to notice him there, but it didn't come. The heart attack, apparently, had slowed down whatever reflexes and instincts the man had. Which explained a lot of why he thought he needed to retire.
“When were you going to tell me?” Bruce asks, throwing his voice into a growl. Gordon turned his head at the voice, looking up at Bruce expectantly. Bruce was far from amused, and far from feeling gracious right now. Whether Gordon had just gotten out of the hospital yesterday or not, he had no right to not converse with Batman on his decisions in their city. He was abandoning everything, everyone, Bruce – Batman.
“Now?” Gordon offered, his eyes showing that he was really sorry, that he hadn't really meant to hurt anyone's feelings. But Bruce didn't buy it, he was angry, hurt, and betrayed. Bruce merely stared at the older man and finally Gordon took a few steps towards the railing that Bruce was perched on. “I didn't have a lot of time to decide, I had to make a plan with my doctor and if I wanted to go home. It had to be done before I left.”
“You didn't even talk this over with me,” Bruce said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.
“Why would I have needed to? This was my choice. We might be friends, but what I do with my life is none of your concern, especially when it comes to my health. I had to do this. I needed to take the stress out of my life or risk another heart attack.” Gordon's tone went from a friendly and apologetic to a serious, firm one. Bruce didn't like it, he didn't like that everything in his city – with Gordon, just everything – was falling apart around him. He couldn't fix it.
“This city needs you, Jim. Everything we worked so hard to build and fix is going to fall apart with out you. There are other ways to prevent stress at work. You're taking the easy way out and turning your back on everything!” Bruce felt his anger was getting the best of him, and what he really wanted to do was get into Gordon's face push his own thoughts into the man's brain. Gordon couldn't have been thinking right, the heart attack must have made him lose braincells.
Gordon looked at Bruce with a bewildered scoff ready to come out of his mouth. He shook his head. “There are no other ways! I checked all of them! Do you think I wanted it this way? Don't you think if I could have had my position with less responsibility and less stress I would have taken it?” Gordon asked, he was on the verge of yelling, but they both knew that the neighbors didn't need to hear it, and he quickly lowered his tone. “I've done everything I can for this city and now it's up to Commissioner Atkins and you to finish it.”
“Atkins isn't you. He doesn't care about this this city the way you do,” Bruce growled, and then he stood, jumping down next to Gordon, getting right into his face. “The way you did.” And then he took out his grappling hook and shoot it across the street at a tall building and took off. Whatever Gordon was going to say to that, he didn't really want to hear it. There wasn't anything left to be said and Bruce was done feeling as though his best friend had just stabbed him in the back.
-----
Gordon stood outside on the porch a few more minutes even after Batman had left in a his fury of anger. He wasn't sure why he had thought that Batman would have understood, but he did. It made him wonder for a brief minute or two about the man under the cowl and just what things he had gone through in life to feel so insecure about changes in Gotham. Mostly, changes with Gordon. Was the man abandoned as a child? Did he have friends? Mental issues? Gordon would never know, didn't want to know for sure, but the thought stuck with him.
What also stuck with him were the words Batman used. Was Gordon really turning his back on the city by taking an early retirement for his own health? Or was Batman just upset because Gordon hadn't taken the time to talk it over with him first and therefore felt betrayed and said somethings he probably didn't mean? Maybe both. Gordon had started to feel the regret more as the day wore on, but his decision was solid and he wasn't about to change it.
Finally, when it was very apparent the Bat was not coming back, Gordon made his way into the house. He closed the door behind him and walked past the kitchen, flipping the lights off and headed towards his bedroom. He didn't bother with the light, stripping out of his robe and crawled into bed. He took off his glasses and placed them neatly on the nightstand. He then grabbed the pillow from what used to be Barbara's side of the bed and curled up into it on his side. It was his first night at home in their bed without her. Before the funeral and the memorial he slept on the couch, afraid to sleep in a bed they once shared. But now it seemed that the only way to move forward was to push out those fears and sleep.
----
Gordon started off his mornings now with running. Nothing fast, but a steady paced run that Babs insisted on taking with him. Of course, with Babs going with him it meant they were up at five in the morning. After a week Gordon had become used to it, and he and Babs often stopped at the corner diner for breakfast before heading back home.
They returned home this particular morning with food in hand for Jimmy. It was Saturday and he was actually out of his room before noon. In fact, it wasn't even seven in the morning yet and Jimmy was out in the living room watching cartoons. Babs placed the food down in his lap, messing up his hair with her hands as she walked by. He glared up at her, that brooding little stare he so often gave everyone.
“Aren't you a little old for cartoons,” she teased as she walked down the hallway to the bathroom to shower. Jimmy looked as if he were about to yell a comeback at her but he caught Gordon's eye and shut his mouth.
Gordon raised an eyebrow at him. “You're up early,” he said, not so much a question but stating an obvious. The teen opened the container of food, pancakes, and used the disposable fork to eat them.
“Yeah,” Jimmy replied through a mouthful of food. He turned his attention back to the cartoons. Gordon placed his hands on his hips and glared at his son in concern. It had been two weeks now since their mother died and a little over a week since he'd been back from the hospital. He expected Jimmy to have moved on some, but he still wasn't cooperating. Barbara was so much better with the kids, Gordon thought. He felt so lost without her.
He didn't know how to do the laundry properly, as Babs had to show him how at least three times a week. Apparently he didn't add enough fabric softener to the towels, or rinse the dishes well enough before putting them in the dishwasher. The only thing he did do right was brushing his teeth and taking piss. Apparently. Babs often took over the household chores because he just didn't do them the way “mom used to”. So in the long run he felt like he was in the way when the children were home. When they weren't at home he didn't know what to do with himself. He knew if he touched the chores list Babs would find something wrong with what he'd done later and redo it herself.
This left Gordon feeling useless, regretful even. Maybe he could have kept his job, because he was sure that sitting at home and watching soap operas on television was going to end up being more of hazard for him then being at MCU in an office most of the time doing paperwork. Not that he could change his mind, he'd just have to find some kind of hobby.
“Jimmy,” Gordon said as he walked across the kitchen to the living room. His son didn't even look up. Gordon started to feel that he would need to get someone for his son to talk to, a therapist, or something. But getting the boy to go... well that was going to be a little harder. Gordon wished his son would just open up, talk about it. He didn't want to push him though to do something he wasn't comfortable with, but he didn't want his son to fall into a depression either.
Again, he was reminded of Bruce Wayne. He was not going to let what happened to that boy happen to his son.