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Momentum:
Chapter Six
written by destinyawakened
They ended up with Chinese take-out – Jimmy's choice. The dinner, though mostly silent on Jimmy's part, was filled with idle conversion and awkward silences that stretched a good ten minutes or more. Wayne didn't complain once about the food, and if Gordon didn't know any better, he would have thought the man actually ate it more often than he let on. Another little thing he would have never actually guessed about Wayne.
While Gordon cleaned up the kitchen, Jimmy and Wayne went into the living room to talk. Gordon didn't want to butt-in on the conversation, no matter how curious he actually was. They were still talking when Gordon had finished, so, he grabbed his jacket off the coat rack by the front door and slipped outside, but not with noticing the curious glance he got from Wayne.
Gordon wasn't out there to wait on Batman or see if he was there, but mostly just to be out the way. It was a little after eight and he wondered where Babs was. She mentioned going out for coffee with some friends and then to the bookstore. It was her typical outing when she did leave home. He'd have to be sure from now on that she got out more often, her staying at home to take care of him and Jimmy was ridiculous; she needed to have her own time.
Gordon stood on the third step down, one hand on the post of the deck, the other in his pocket. He saw movement across the street, the Thompson's house. Their door swung open and the bird-like face of Mrs. Thompson appeared, carrying a large tray in her hands. Gordon wanted to run back inside, but it was a bit late for that as she was already coming up the driveway. She stood in front of him not more than five seconds later, a sweet little smile on her face, holding the tray out to him.
“I made cookies today. I thought and the kids might like them,” she said cheerfully. “The tray is reusable and there is no need to return it!” Gordon took the tray and nodded at her.
“Well, thank you, that was so nice of you,” he replied, giving her an uneasy smile. She didn't move and he wondered just what it would take to get her to leave. So, he pulled the saran wrap back off the top of the tray, took one of the cookies and ate it. He nodded his head and made the best 'mmm' sound he could gather. “Wonderful,” he said finally when his mouth wasn't full of cookie.
And still the woman didn't leave. It was then that Gordon realized that she must have seen the black Lamborghini parked in their driveway. Gordon sighed, placing the wrap back over the top of the tray. He held up a free hand, gesturing her to wait one moment. Gordon walked back into the house, setting the tray of cookies down on the coffee table in the living room. Jimmy and Wayne both looked at him curiously.
Gordon turned to Jimmy. “Mrs. Thompson,” was all he had to say and Jimmy rolled his eyes.
“Mrs. Thompson?” Wayne asked, curiously. He looked up at Gordon from the chair he was sitting in.
“Our nosy, busy-body neighbor from across the street,” Jimmy explained with an annoyed sigh.
“She saw your car,” Gordon said to Wayne. “And she isn't leaving.”
Wayne grinned, which was more than Gordon would have done in this situation. “Good thing Jimmy and I were just about done.” He winked at Jimmy, a friendly gesture really. Wayne pulled a car from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to Jimmy. “But if you ever do want to talk, feel free to call me.” And with that Jimmy nodded.
“Thanks,” he said and then he turned to Gordon. “I'm going to go get ready for bed, Dad.” And he walked down the hall.
Gordon looked at Wayne with surprise. “That's more than he usually says to me near bedtime.”
Wayne shrugged, grabbing for the door handle. He walked out on to the porch and greeted Mrs. Thompson with a wide smile and horribly false, cheerful tone. Gordon stood by the door, watching the unreal interaction between the billionaire and his neighbor. Wayne was able to convince her leave, something about having to get home himself and thanking her for the cookies. Wayne then turned to Gordon, one foot on the ground and the other on the last step of the stairs.
“I wouldn't worry about your son,” he said in a careful tone, to make sure that every word was heard. “He just needed someone to talk to, someone who's been there.” And that would be Wayne, wouldn't it? Gordon nodded his head slowly, arms crossed over his chest, but not putting off any certain vibe to Wayne. The younger man returned the nod and then started down the path to the driveway.
“Hey wait!” Gordon called after him, moving down a few steps. Wayne turned around, a smile on his face that looked more real than any other smile Gordon could remember seeing on the man. “Thank you.”
Wayne shook his head, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Don't. You've done enough.” And he rounded the rest of the corner, and seconds later Gordon heard the roar of a car engine and Wayne was gone. Gordon wasn't sure what the billionaire meant, but it itched at the back of his mind; maybe it was code for something, but he couldn't really place it.
Babs pulled up a few minutes later. She walked up the steps and looked at Gordon. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was seeing Mister Wayne out,” he replied, turning to face her.
“And now you are...” She gestured with her hands for him to tell her what it was he was up to. He sighed and leaned his arm against the railing.
“And now I am doing nothing. Is that a problem for you, Miss Gordon?” he teased. Babs smiled slyly at him, narrowed her eyes at him. She put her left hand on the right side of his face and pulled his head towards her, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“Don't stay up too late, Dad,” she teased back. “And tell him I said 'hi'.” She let go and then walked into the house. If there was anything he was grateful for, it was that Babs had taken the change so well, but she was a lot like her Dad that way. She learned to let go when she had to, before it happened – before it hurt more than she could bare.
“You've got good kids, Jim,” came the familiar rasp that Gordon had been expecting for a few minutes now. He looked over at the railing near the rafters seeing Batman crouched there.
“Yeah,” Gordon agreed, pushing away from the railing and taking a few steps closer to where Batman was on the other side of the porch. “Haven't seen you in a couple days.”
“Some unexpected business came up,” Batman said. Business, Gordon thought. Another piece into the vigilante's real life, no doubt. There was brief moment of silence, usually this was when Batman left, when they ran out of things to talk about. Except he was still there.
“Heard about a string of murders on the news, any leads?” Gordon asked, then feeling rather idiotic for even bringing it up. He had no right to the information, he no right to even question it. He sighed heavily, ready to take it back and apologize, but Batman was smirking at him.
“No leads,” the Bat said roughly. “Of course, it doesn't help that Atkins is putting the entire MCU team on every other case but the murders.”
“Other cases?” Gordon found himself asking again and then mentally slapped himself for it. Batman jumped down onto the porch, landing softly next to Gordon. “Sorry, old habits die hard.”
“You miss it,” Batman stated. He wasn't asking, because he knew Gordon missed it. Batman knew Gordon better than anyone, now. Gordon nodded slightly, afraid to verbally admit it, because then it would be truer than anything else and he wasn't sure he could have that right now. “There's a few robbery cases, nothing to waste an entire crew of detectives on. Mostly houses. Atkins has no sense of what is more important.”
Gordon sighed and leaned over the railing, looking out in the front yard, if it could be called that. “Have you tried talking to him?” Gordon crooked his head to look at the other man, knowing that it was a stupid question. Of course he'd probably tried, but it was obvious that Atkins didn't really want Batman's help. They were silent for a minute and then Gordon spoke again; “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”
“Yes,” was Batman's reply. Gordon was still looking out, not facing the vigilante, but he could practically feel the other man standing behind him. Seconds later the Bat was next to to him, not leaning as he was, but facing towards him. “Why?”
“I'd been thinking that everything I've had to endure the last nine month or so have been one big test. A show of faith, if you will. Something I have to overcome. And that saying, that 'everything happens for a reason', my reasons will be given to me in due time.” Gordon straightened, turning to look at Batman, who was contemplating what Gordon had said. “Alright, say it. You think I'm crazy for believing that. That people create their own destinies.” Because honestly, Batman seemed like the kind of man who would believe in that; there was no way a man just happened across becoming Batman because it was meant to happen. Batman become Batman because he choose to.
“You're not crazy, Jim. If anyone deserves that right now, it is you,” Batman said, his voice had dropped into a rough whisper that sent chills down Gordon's spine. He was sure at first it was because they were standing so close, but that didn't feel right.
“I'm sure there are far more deserving people than I,” Gordon commented, moving his eyes away from the Bat as the man's intense stare was starting to make him feel dazed.
“No,” Batman said as he placed a hand on either side of shoulder's arms, forcing him to look at him. Batman opened his mouth to say something more, as if he had a reason for his actions, but nothing came out and he stared at Gordon in confusion. That makes two of us, Gordon thought. Batman lessened his grip and finally dropped his hands all together. It was then though, that Gordon felt not only his own loneliness, but Batman's as well.
They'd been friends for five or so years now – partners and allies – and not once did Gordon ever find out if Batman at least had a family that he went home to every night. Maybe it was a because a part of hoped he didn't, that there was no one waiting at his house wondering if it would be that night that he didn't make it home. Maybe he had no family and that was why Gordon was so important to him.
Gordon checked his watch, it was a little after nine. He glanced inside the house, noting that the living and kitchen lights had been turned off – Babs and Jimmy had gone to their rooms for the night. Gordon then looked back at Batman who was still searching for the words to accompany his most recent actions. Without even thinking, Gordon placed a hand on Batman's Kevlar armored chest plate.
“You want some coffee?” he asked. Batman seemed hesitant and Gordon shook his head. “You really think Atkins is going to need you? It's obvious he isn't listening.” Gordon's hand slipped from the armor and brushed against the other man's gloved fingers and reflexivity Batman's fingers grasped his, and Gordon's tugged to motion him inside. “C'mon.”
Their hands parted and Gordon opened the front door, ushering Batman through the door behind him in case someone was watching them. He turned on the light. In the florescent lighting of the kitchen, Batman almost looked ridiculous. Gordon couldn't remember how many times he'd met with the man, but it was very rare that he met him at all in well lit areas. In fact, it was the first time he ever really noticed that the Bat wasn't exactly fully protected in armor, as there were slight gaps in continuity of the Kevlar to – from what it looked like – allow better movement. This did not help Gordon feel any better about this man dashing across rooftops and dodging bullets. But, Batman had been doing this for five years now and hadn't died yet. Gordon just had to have faith.
And he found that he did have faith in Batman, more than he cared to admit to himself and more than he probably should have. Gordon found the bag of pre-ground coffee and a new filter. He put the filter in the machine and right amount coffee per water, and then turned it on. He reached above the counter to the cabinet and pulled out two mugs.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, feeling stupid when he remembered they'd had coffee once before on the rooftop of MCU a few years ago. “Right, just sugar.” At that he saw Batman grin at him out of the corner of his eye. Gordon couldn't help but laugh at himself.
The coffee finished brewing and poured it into the two mugs, walking over to the table he placed each down at spot. He took one spot and the gestured to Batman to take the other seat. Batman looked at him and then reached around and unclipped the cape and set it over the edge of the chair. Gordon shook his head as he sipped his coffee. Gordon found he was having trouble finding things to talk about and ended up blurted out the first thing that came to mind as he watched the vigilante.
“I did always wonder how that thing came off. I just assumed it was permanently attached,” Gordon mused after his sip. Batman sat down and slipped off his gloves, setting them aside on the table. Gordon watched, carefully. Did Batman have so much trust him that he knew Gordon wouldn't finger print the mug later?
Batman looked over at him, and Gordon couldn't help but feel just so distant from him at that moment. They were close friends, having gone through rough patches recently and coming out stronger still, and yet there was this barrier between them. A barrier that Gordon knew would likely change their friendship if he ever found out.
And yet, Gordon was sure he knew more about the man behind the mask than most people probably knew about his real life. Gordon wasn't sure how he knew, but he did.
Batman picked up the mug between his hands, bringing it to his lips and sipping it. Gordon watched him over the rim of his own mug, taking in the little things about the man's hands, like how long his fingers were, how his nails seemed well manicured as if he took care of them, the slight tan color they had, not quite matching the skin tone of his chin – a man that obviously took care of himself during the day. Gordon squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't want to think about Batman as someone else. He was just Batman. He didn't want to be knowledgeable to any of that.
“Jim?” Batman asked. Gordon felt the warmth of hand near his, as if Batman's was wavering over his in an unsure gesture, if it was okay or not. Gordon opened his eyes and saw that the Bat was looking at him worriedly and his hand was exactly where Gordon thought it was. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just tired,” Gordon replied, setting his mug down on the table. Batman's hand was still lingering near Gordon's. “I used to be able to pull all nighters, be up until three in the morning without even being phased. Now I can barely get through ten in the evening without feeling... old.”
“You aren't old,” Batman whispered. Gordon looked at him and then to their hands so close together and he reached out and grasped the other man's hand tightly. He wasn't sure why he did it, but there was a connection noticed when they did touch, and whatever it was, it was comforting... Like they were old friends.
“That's nice of you to say, but I look in the mirror every day and see my father just before he died.” Gordon squeezed Batman's hand and then let it go, taking another sip of his coffee. “My daughter is going to be eighteen in two weeks and my son almost sixteen. I'm old. Plain and simple.”
Batman leaned on the table towards him, looking him in the eye almost sternly, but Gordon noticed a admiring note to it. “Trust me, you aren't,” Batman said very clearly, and without him realizing that he had dropped the rasp for for a those few seconds. Gordon didn't say anything, some how he felt he reading more into that than he should have been... Right? Either way, this was a side of Batman he rarely saw, a friendlier more relaxed side, and who was he to ruin such a moment? And when would he get to see it again, if ever?
So this was what being friends with a vigilante is like, Gordon thought as he brought his mug to his lips again. He wanted to laugh at his own musing. He felt as if he was sitting at his dinner table with his oldest friend reminiscing, when in fact they weren't... but just the feeling of it. Everything felt okay – perfect even – for those few minutes they sat there and just let be, be.
Gordon smiled. “Thanks.”
While Gordon cleaned up the kitchen, Jimmy and Wayne went into the living room to talk. Gordon didn't want to butt-in on the conversation, no matter how curious he actually was. They were still talking when Gordon had finished, so, he grabbed his jacket off the coat rack by the front door and slipped outside, but not with noticing the curious glance he got from Wayne.
Gordon wasn't out there to wait on Batman or see if he was there, but mostly just to be out the way. It was a little after eight and he wondered where Babs was. She mentioned going out for coffee with some friends and then to the bookstore. It was her typical outing when she did leave home. He'd have to be sure from now on that she got out more often, her staying at home to take care of him and Jimmy was ridiculous; she needed to have her own time.
Gordon stood on the third step down, one hand on the post of the deck, the other in his pocket. He saw movement across the street, the Thompson's house. Their door swung open and the bird-like face of Mrs. Thompson appeared, carrying a large tray in her hands. Gordon wanted to run back inside, but it was a bit late for that as she was already coming up the driveway. She stood in front of him not more than five seconds later, a sweet little smile on her face, holding the tray out to him.
“I made cookies today. I thought and the kids might like them,” she said cheerfully. “The tray is reusable and there is no need to return it!” Gordon took the tray and nodded at her.
“Well, thank you, that was so nice of you,” he replied, giving her an uneasy smile. She didn't move and he wondered just what it would take to get her to leave. So, he pulled the saran wrap back off the top of the tray, took one of the cookies and ate it. He nodded his head and made the best 'mmm' sound he could gather. “Wonderful,” he said finally when his mouth wasn't full of cookie.
And still the woman didn't leave. It was then that Gordon realized that she must have seen the black Lamborghini parked in their driveway. Gordon sighed, placing the wrap back over the top of the tray. He held up a free hand, gesturing her to wait one moment. Gordon walked back into the house, setting the tray of cookies down on the coffee table in the living room. Jimmy and Wayne both looked at him curiously.
Gordon turned to Jimmy. “Mrs. Thompson,” was all he had to say and Jimmy rolled his eyes.
“Mrs. Thompson?” Wayne asked, curiously. He looked up at Gordon from the chair he was sitting in.
“Our nosy, busy-body neighbor from across the street,” Jimmy explained with an annoyed sigh.
“She saw your car,” Gordon said to Wayne. “And she isn't leaving.”
Wayne grinned, which was more than Gordon would have done in this situation. “Good thing Jimmy and I were just about done.” He winked at Jimmy, a friendly gesture really. Wayne pulled a car from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed it to Jimmy. “But if you ever do want to talk, feel free to call me.” And with that Jimmy nodded.
“Thanks,” he said and then he turned to Gordon. “I'm going to go get ready for bed, Dad.” And he walked down the hall.
Gordon looked at Wayne with surprise. “That's more than he usually says to me near bedtime.”
Wayne shrugged, grabbing for the door handle. He walked out on to the porch and greeted Mrs. Thompson with a wide smile and horribly false, cheerful tone. Gordon stood by the door, watching the unreal interaction between the billionaire and his neighbor. Wayne was able to convince her leave, something about having to get home himself and thanking her for the cookies. Wayne then turned to Gordon, one foot on the ground and the other on the last step of the stairs.
“I wouldn't worry about your son,” he said in a careful tone, to make sure that every word was heard. “He just needed someone to talk to, someone who's been there.” And that would be Wayne, wouldn't it? Gordon nodded his head slowly, arms crossed over his chest, but not putting off any certain vibe to Wayne. The younger man returned the nod and then started down the path to the driveway.
“Hey wait!” Gordon called after him, moving down a few steps. Wayne turned around, a smile on his face that looked more real than any other smile Gordon could remember seeing on the man. “Thank you.”
Wayne shook his head, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Don't. You've done enough.” And he rounded the rest of the corner, and seconds later Gordon heard the roar of a car engine and Wayne was gone. Gordon wasn't sure what the billionaire meant, but it itched at the back of his mind; maybe it was code for something, but he couldn't really place it.
Babs pulled up a few minutes later. She walked up the steps and looked at Gordon. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was seeing Mister Wayne out,” he replied, turning to face her.
“And now you are...” She gestured with her hands for him to tell her what it was he was up to. He sighed and leaned his arm against the railing.
“And now I am doing nothing. Is that a problem for you, Miss Gordon?” he teased. Babs smiled slyly at him, narrowed her eyes at him. She put her left hand on the right side of his face and pulled his head towards her, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“Don't stay up too late, Dad,” she teased back. “And tell him I said 'hi'.” She let go and then walked into the house. If there was anything he was grateful for, it was that Babs had taken the change so well, but she was a lot like her Dad that way. She learned to let go when she had to, before it happened – before it hurt more than she could bare.
“You've got good kids, Jim,” came the familiar rasp that Gordon had been expecting for a few minutes now. He looked over at the railing near the rafters seeing Batman crouched there.
“Yeah,” Gordon agreed, pushing away from the railing and taking a few steps closer to where Batman was on the other side of the porch. “Haven't seen you in a couple days.”
“Some unexpected business came up,” Batman said. Business, Gordon thought. Another piece into the vigilante's real life, no doubt. There was brief moment of silence, usually this was when Batman left, when they ran out of things to talk about. Except he was still there.
“Heard about a string of murders on the news, any leads?” Gordon asked, then feeling rather idiotic for even bringing it up. He had no right to the information, he no right to even question it. He sighed heavily, ready to take it back and apologize, but Batman was smirking at him.
“No leads,” the Bat said roughly. “Of course, it doesn't help that Atkins is putting the entire MCU team on every other case but the murders.”
“Other cases?” Gordon found himself asking again and then mentally slapped himself for it. Batman jumped down onto the porch, landing softly next to Gordon. “Sorry, old habits die hard.”
“You miss it,” Batman stated. He wasn't asking, because he knew Gordon missed it. Batman knew Gordon better than anyone, now. Gordon nodded slightly, afraid to verbally admit it, because then it would be truer than anything else and he wasn't sure he could have that right now. “There's a few robbery cases, nothing to waste an entire crew of detectives on. Mostly houses. Atkins has no sense of what is more important.”
Gordon sighed and leaned over the railing, looking out in the front yard, if it could be called that. “Have you tried talking to him?” Gordon crooked his head to look at the other man, knowing that it was a stupid question. Of course he'd probably tried, but it was obvious that Atkins didn't really want Batman's help. They were silent for a minute and then Gordon spoke again; “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”
“Yes,” was Batman's reply. Gordon was still looking out, not facing the vigilante, but he could practically feel the other man standing behind him. Seconds later the Bat was next to to him, not leaning as he was, but facing towards him. “Why?”
“I'd been thinking that everything I've had to endure the last nine month or so have been one big test. A show of faith, if you will. Something I have to overcome. And that saying, that 'everything happens for a reason', my reasons will be given to me in due time.” Gordon straightened, turning to look at Batman, who was contemplating what Gordon had said. “Alright, say it. You think I'm crazy for believing that. That people create their own destinies.” Because honestly, Batman seemed like the kind of man who would believe in that; there was no way a man just happened across becoming Batman because it was meant to happen. Batman become Batman because he choose to.
“You're not crazy, Jim. If anyone deserves that right now, it is you,” Batman said, his voice had dropped into a rough whisper that sent chills down Gordon's spine. He was sure at first it was because they were standing so close, but that didn't feel right.
“I'm sure there are far more deserving people than I,” Gordon commented, moving his eyes away from the Bat as the man's intense stare was starting to make him feel dazed.
“No,” Batman said as he placed a hand on either side of shoulder's arms, forcing him to look at him. Batman opened his mouth to say something more, as if he had a reason for his actions, but nothing came out and he stared at Gordon in confusion. That makes two of us, Gordon thought. Batman lessened his grip and finally dropped his hands all together. It was then though, that Gordon felt not only his own loneliness, but Batman's as well.
They'd been friends for five or so years now – partners and allies – and not once did Gordon ever find out if Batman at least had a family that he went home to every night. Maybe it was a because a part of hoped he didn't, that there was no one waiting at his house wondering if it would be that night that he didn't make it home. Maybe he had no family and that was why Gordon was so important to him.
Gordon checked his watch, it was a little after nine. He glanced inside the house, noting that the living and kitchen lights had been turned off – Babs and Jimmy had gone to their rooms for the night. Gordon then looked back at Batman who was still searching for the words to accompany his most recent actions. Without even thinking, Gordon placed a hand on Batman's Kevlar armored chest plate.
“You want some coffee?” he asked. Batman seemed hesitant and Gordon shook his head. “You really think Atkins is going to need you? It's obvious he isn't listening.” Gordon's hand slipped from the armor and brushed against the other man's gloved fingers and reflexivity Batman's fingers grasped his, and Gordon's tugged to motion him inside. “C'mon.”
Their hands parted and Gordon opened the front door, ushering Batman through the door behind him in case someone was watching them. He turned on the light. In the florescent lighting of the kitchen, Batman almost looked ridiculous. Gordon couldn't remember how many times he'd met with the man, but it was very rare that he met him at all in well lit areas. In fact, it was the first time he ever really noticed that the Bat wasn't exactly fully protected in armor, as there were slight gaps in continuity of the Kevlar to – from what it looked like – allow better movement. This did not help Gordon feel any better about this man dashing across rooftops and dodging bullets. But, Batman had been doing this for five years now and hadn't died yet. Gordon just had to have faith.
And he found that he did have faith in Batman, more than he cared to admit to himself and more than he probably should have. Gordon found the bag of pre-ground coffee and a new filter. He put the filter in the machine and right amount coffee per water, and then turned it on. He reached above the counter to the cabinet and pulled out two mugs.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked, feeling stupid when he remembered they'd had coffee once before on the rooftop of MCU a few years ago. “Right, just sugar.” At that he saw Batman grin at him out of the corner of his eye. Gordon couldn't help but laugh at himself.
The coffee finished brewing and poured it into the two mugs, walking over to the table he placed each down at spot. He took one spot and the gestured to Batman to take the other seat. Batman looked at him and then reached around and unclipped the cape and set it over the edge of the chair. Gordon shook his head as he sipped his coffee. Gordon found he was having trouble finding things to talk about and ended up blurted out the first thing that came to mind as he watched the vigilante.
“I did always wonder how that thing came off. I just assumed it was permanently attached,” Gordon mused after his sip. Batman sat down and slipped off his gloves, setting them aside on the table. Gordon watched, carefully. Did Batman have so much trust him that he knew Gordon wouldn't finger print the mug later?
Batman looked over at him, and Gordon couldn't help but feel just so distant from him at that moment. They were close friends, having gone through rough patches recently and coming out stronger still, and yet there was this barrier between them. A barrier that Gordon knew would likely change their friendship if he ever found out.
And yet, Gordon was sure he knew more about the man behind the mask than most people probably knew about his real life. Gordon wasn't sure how he knew, but he did.
Batman picked up the mug between his hands, bringing it to his lips and sipping it. Gordon watched him over the rim of his own mug, taking in the little things about the man's hands, like how long his fingers were, how his nails seemed well manicured as if he took care of them, the slight tan color they had, not quite matching the skin tone of his chin – a man that obviously took care of himself during the day. Gordon squeezed his eyes shut, he didn't want to think about Batman as someone else. He was just Batman. He didn't want to be knowledgeable to any of that.
“Jim?” Batman asked. Gordon felt the warmth of hand near his, as if Batman's was wavering over his in an unsure gesture, if it was okay or not. Gordon opened his eyes and saw that the Bat was looking at him worriedly and his hand was exactly where Gordon thought it was. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just tired,” Gordon replied, setting his mug down on the table. Batman's hand was still lingering near Gordon's. “I used to be able to pull all nighters, be up until three in the morning without even being phased. Now I can barely get through ten in the evening without feeling... old.”
“You aren't old,” Batman whispered. Gordon looked at him and then to their hands so close together and he reached out and grasped the other man's hand tightly. He wasn't sure why he did it, but there was a connection noticed when they did touch, and whatever it was, it was comforting... Like they were old friends.
“That's nice of you to say, but I look in the mirror every day and see my father just before he died.” Gordon squeezed Batman's hand and then let it go, taking another sip of his coffee. “My daughter is going to be eighteen in two weeks and my son almost sixteen. I'm old. Plain and simple.”
Batman leaned on the table towards him, looking him in the eye almost sternly, but Gordon noticed a admiring note to it. “Trust me, you aren't,” Batman said very clearly, and without him realizing that he had dropped the rasp for for a those few seconds. Gordon didn't say anything, some how he felt he reading more into that than he should have been... Right? Either way, this was a side of Batman he rarely saw, a friendlier more relaxed side, and who was he to ruin such a moment? And when would he get to see it again, if ever?
So this was what being friends with a vigilante is like, Gordon thought as he brought his mug to his lips again. He wanted to laugh at his own musing. He felt as if he was sitting at his dinner table with his oldest friend reminiscing, when in fact they weren't... but just the feeling of it. Everything felt okay – perfect even – for those few minutes they sat there and just let be, be.
Gordon smiled. “Thanks.”