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“You have to figure out something to say to her,” Gordon said as the nurse left the room. Bruce now had a fresh bandage on both bullet wounds, looking about ready to crawl out of his skin if he didn't get out of the hospital as soon as possible. It really was just a matter of time until the media and the press found out, and if Gordon was seen there with him, the cover up from the other day might start to collapse around them.
“I have to?” Bruce asked as he quirked an eyebrow at Gordon who was standing defensively over him.
“Doesn't have to be the whole truth, Bruce. But she is worried and she is curious. Something... believable would be good,” Gordon explained as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.
“So polo, spelunking, and golf are pretty much out of the question?” Bruce asked in a teasing tone as a sly smile spread on his lips. Gordon just glared at him. “Alright, alright. I'll think of something.”
------
Bruce managed to talk his way out of an extra three days of hospital stay by explaining that Alfred had served in the British Army as a paramedic and was more than capable of taking care of Bruce, and besides, the over worked nurses and doctors had patients far worse off than the billionaire. A check for a considerable donation was signed along with release papers to keep the hospital from being sued if something happened to go wrong with Bruce after he left. A small price to pay to keep his privacy and the hope that the media wasn't going to find out.
Not that there was a doubt that the press had caught word; it was just a matter of time before they found their clues. Luckily they didn't have any problems driving back to Gotham. Jim and Babs took the truck and dropped everything off at the apartment and Bruce drove back with Alfred, who proceeded to pleasantly scold him all the way to the Manor. Bruce managed to keep a smile on his face; Alfred was the father Bruce had missed out on, the mother he needed and the friend he always wished he'd had in Rachel. Alfred was Bruce's only real family, the only part of his past that remained intact.
Except for Tommy Elliot – he still needed to be dealt with, and Bruce was done playing around. Childhood friend or not, Elliot was crossing a line, and Bruce had let him get away with it thus far, but it was going to end. Just the fact that Elliot had brought Jim into the equation – into their childhood tiff – made Bruce even angrier. He had never thought that Tommy would stoop so low just to get back at him. There was revenge, and then there was just plain murder, and Bruce would have neither anymore. If Tommy wanted to play in Bruce's playground then Bruce was going to start setting some ground rules.
Alfred had pulled up to the curb of the driveway at Wayne Manor, walked around to Bruce's door and helped him out, even though Bruce was pushing the older gentlemen away. Alfred mumbled something about Bruce being a stubborn pain in the ass. Bruce raised his eyes to meet Alfred's as he stepped onto the curb, reaching out for the butler's shoulder to appease him.
“What was that, Alfred? I didn't quite catch that.” Bruce quipped in a snarky tone. Alfred sighed heavily, brushing Bruce's hand off his shoulder.
“I don't know how Commissioner Gordon puts up with you,” Alfred replied as he pulled Bruce's bags out of the back of the car and started for the front door. Bruce was close behind him. He had to take the walking slow, the wounds ached and he kept finding he felt out of breath. He'd work on that, because there was no way he was staying down for more than a week, let alone three months. This was just another minor setback – something else to overcome.
“He has a lot more patience than you do,” Bruce said to Alfred as he caught up with him on the steps, Alfred unlocking the front door and allowing Bruce to enter.
“I'm sure.”
Bruce tossed Alfred one of those quirky little smiles that suggested more than Alfred ever wanted to know. He followed Alfred up the stairs slowly. “What do you think I should tell Babs?”
Alfred reached the top of the stairs and turned his head back to Bruce briefly. “I don't think young Miss Gordon needs to know about your rooftop escapades, Master Wayne, but I do not suggest blatantly lying to her either.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes on the butler; it was the same thing Jim had said to him at the hospital. How did they expect him to tell Babs the truth without giving her the whole truth and without lying? Alfred continued on and put Bruce's suitcases in his bedroom, stopping when he saw Bruce's confusion.
“Perhaps telling Miss Gordon about your past with Thomas Elliot would explain the situation to her without giving away everything else, sir,” Alfred offered as Bruce entered the bedroom. It was a good idea. Bruce could always count on Alfred to be insightful, especially when it came to children; Bruce didn't mind kids, but he didn't have a good sense of what needed to be done when it came to taking care of one or even talking to one. Thank God that so far talking to Babs had been like talking to anyone else. Well, as long as he could ignore her whining when things didn't quite go her way, but Bruce figured that was typical, though Jim couldn't give him any insight on that, either; neither of them had any idea what to expect of a teenage girl.
Bruce sat down at the edge of the bed. He wasn't tired but he knew if he didn't rest for the next two days he wasn't going to be up for going to the Flying Grayson's acrobat show, which would disappointBabs and only annoy Jim, who would end up taking Babs, Jimmy and Susan by himself – Bruce would never hear the end of it and Jim would constantly remind him of how much Bruce owed him.
Alfred picked up the armored suitcase and started for the door. “Cave?” he asked the younger man. Bruce nodded.
“Please,” Bruce replied with a nod.
------
Gordon took Alfred's sound advice when they left the hospital and let Bruce rest a day before he and Babs made their way over to the Manor. Babs hadn't brought up Bruce's injuries or anything else having to do with the incident, but Gordon could tell she was curious. Every now and then she had a look on her face that suggested she was thinking about it, worried and unsure what to think. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't important, it wasn't something she needed to think about, but the fact was it had more to do with her than she would hopefully ever realize.
There was no way he would ever be able to tell her that Elliot had killed her parents – if she ever found out about Bruce and how he took revenge for his parents' death then she would be likely to follow suit. Gordon would prefer she didn't; what Bruce did was dangerous, and a sixteen-year-old didn't need to be doing that.
Hopefully Bruce had some up with come good explanation for Babs because Gordon wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep anything from her concerning Elliot. They walked into the Manor to find Bruce coming down the stair case slowly, grasping the rail and rubbing in the wound at his side. Gordon wasn't about to run and see if he needed help, but Bruce had his hand up, palm out, to stop him.
“I'm fine,” the billionaire said. Bruce took the last few steps quickly, giving Gordon a small smile, but the older man could see the pain behind Bruce's eyes. Bruce never took pain medication though; he always battled through the pain as though it made him stronger to pull through on his own. Gordon thought it ridiculous that Bruce wouldn't take anything, even to take off the edge. But this was the man behind the cowl, and he was ever the masochist.
Bruce held his hand out to Babs, giving Gordon a knowing glance. “Can we talk in my study?” he asked her as she took his hand and they started towards the back of the Manor.
“Bruce...” Gordon warned, knowing full well that the study lead to the 'batcave'.
Bruce threw a glance back to the older man to suggest that he wasn't doing anything drastic. Gordon made his way towards the living room.
------
Bruce settled Babs into the desk chair, sitting down on the edge of the desk himself, turning to face her. She looked a little confused but also had a curious look about her, as if she knew what Bruce was going to say to her, that soon her confusion would just disappear. It was then that Bruce wished he had never gone on that trip with her and Gordon – things were going to change in the near future and he could already tell it was going to be all his fault.
Again.
“It's been brought to my attention that I should probably explain a few things about what happened,” Bruce said. She had her hands folded in her lap, rubbing them together nervously. Bruce began to think that maybe she was expecting the worst of him, of the situation. He couldn't say that it was a good situation, but it wasn't as if he were a murderer or anything. So he put a smile on his face to reassure her.
“Barbara, have you ever had a friend who blamed you for something that wasn't even your fault? And no matter how much you reasoned with them, they just couldn't see it any other way?”
Babs' eyes seemed to register her understanding of what Bruce was getting at and she nodded. “Yes.”
“Alright. When I was about eight, I had a friend named Tommy. We were best friends. But one night Tommy's parents were in a freak car 'accident'. His father died and his mother lived, due to my father saving her life. My father was a doctor. Tommy was forced to live with his mother, who kept him on a very tight leash.” Bruce paused to make sure Babs was following. She was. “It came to my attention within this last year that Tommy was the one that caused his parent's car accident all those years ago. Apparently he hated his parents quite a bit. He ended up mad at me for a few reasons. One was that my father saved his mother's life and the other was that when my parents died I got to do the things he always wanted to, but couldn't because his mother kept that hold on him and the money his father left.”
Babs scrunched up her face. “But when his mother died wouldn't he have gotten the money anyway?”
“Yeah. He didn't see it that way. He wanted his life to start the moment he tried to kill them both. He's just always held that grudge. Unfortunately, he's tried a number of times to get back at me, usually by means of hurting those around me. It just happened that this time he actually did try to kill me.”
Babs got very still, and Bruce watched her swallow visibly. “Bruce. I may have overheard you and Uncle Jim talking the other night when you first got shot. Did 'Tommy' kill my parents?”
“I'm not entirely sure.” Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think.
“But Bruce, you said he's been trying to get back at you by hurting those around you. If he knows about you and Uncle Jim...”
“He does.”
“...then he would do that, right?” Babs' eyes were pleading with him, and he had no way to say no to her, or to lie. It was obvious that Elliot had killed Gordon's brother and sister-in-law; he was the only person to know that it could potentially break them. And yet, thank God, it hadn't; it only brought them closer.
Bruce began to wonder just how much Babs had over-heard the other night, but she wasn't bringing up anything else, so maybe he was still safe. “Your uncle is still checking into things at the station. There's no proof yet that Tommy was the killer.”
“I'm not a kid, you know. You don't have to dumb things down for me.” Her voice had started out quite small and had risen as she went on, obviously growing quite angry and even annoyed at the thought that Bruce and her uncle weren't treating her as an adult.
“Babs... I'm not trying to. There's so much that hasn't been investigated yet that we just don't know for sure.” It had slipped out before he had a chance to reclaim what he said, to backtrack and start again. Too late.
“We? So you do work at Major Crimes?” Babs asked. Bruce could see it in the young girl's eyes, the recognition, the need and the desire to know everything. Bruce felt utterly exposed; there were very few people to whom he would openly admit to being Batman, and he never wanted one of them to be the niece of Jim Gordon.
“Well...Wayne Tech helps out quite a bit with the technology...” Bruce started, and then he saw Babs' face fall, as if she knew he was lying to her. He moved in a little closer, bending at the waist to meet her eyes, even though it hurt the bullet wound at his side to do so. “Yes, I work with your uncle. It's very complicated and its not something I talk about to anyone but your uncle. It's pretty top secret.”
Babs smiled, despite the tears that had formed in her eyes, probably from thinking about the death of her parents and Elliot. “Bruce... I said I wasn't stupid. I won't tell.” It was stated as a fact, as if he didn't have to tell her, and she could simply place together the pieces she was given. It wasn't hard to figure out, Bruce knew, when you knew him outside of the playboy persona. Batman had lots of cool gadgets, things not many people could afford; it only seemed feasible that Batman would be Bruce Wayne, or at least someone who worked for Wayne Enterprises. No, Babs was definitely not stupid.
Bruce didn't say anything.
“Just tell me, do you think this 'Tommy' guy killed my parents?”
There was no lying to her anymore, and Bruce knew for a fact that Jim was going to kill him for this. “Yes,” Bruce said with a grimace. He watched a certain fire in her eyes ignite, something familiar and cold, undeserving of the attention she was providing it. He knew the rage well, and he knew the question that was going to spill from her lips any second, and he could honestly say he wasn't ready with an answer, because whatever the answer was, someone was going to get hurt.
“Can you teach me?”
Bruce quickly shook his head. “No,” he whispered.
“This guy needs to pay for what he did. Your parents were murdered. That's why you do what you do, isn't it? Revenge?” Babs questioned. Her voice was growing louder, and Bruce could hear the hatred shake in her.
“It was one reason. I do what I do for Gotham. So it doesn't happen to anyone else. It doesn't always work that way though.” He was glaring down at the floor, avoiding her gaze; he didn't need to see it to know the look she was giving him was far from understanding. “Tommy will be taken care of. I promise. But I can't let you take the same path I did. You have a brighter future to look forward to, more to accomplish.”
“I just want to do what's right. I trained in self-defense back in Chicago. It wouldn't be that hard to train me.” Babs was begging now. She had dropped her tone down and Bruce could hear the small whine of tears straining her voice.
“It's out of the question,” Bruce said as he slid off the desk, feeling the strain of the conversation in his chest, piercing his heart and his breath quickened as he struggled for a minute to breathe through the pain. “Your uncle would never forgive me. This stays between you and me.” He walked out of the room and down the hall. He didn't want to break her heart, but a sixteen-year-old training to fight crime, to serve-up justice on a silver platter was the most ridiculous thing he had heard in a long time. He didn't need that on his shoulders. He didn't need Babs throwing her life away for some foolish notion that what Batman stood for could be what she stood for.
Bruce was sure she would hate him now; but he could live with a little hate if it meant that it kept her from tangling with the wrong people. Bruce sighed as he walked the past living room where Jim was sitting reading the newspaper, and took the stairs up to his bedroom. He was not in the mood now to deal with anything. They had the show tomorrow and he was suddenly feeling very drained.
“Bruce?” Jim called after him. Bruce stopped only briefly.
“You should probably go to talk to your niece.”
-----
Gordon found Babs in the study completely quiet, looking really lost in her own thoughts. He saw she had been crying, but she had since stopped and now looked very angry. He tried to smile at her but her face kept that deep brooding darkness.
“Why does everyone treat me like I'm a child?” she asked after a few minutes of silence. Gordon wasn't sure he was following – he wasn't even sure of what Bruce had told her – but he was starting to get an idea. Babs looked up at him from the chair. “It's not fair.”
“What's not fair, sweetheart?” Gordon asked, kneeling down next to the chair. She looked at him like he was doing something wrong, and he stood back up – things like that must be what she was talking about. Treat her as an adult; it's what she wants.
“I know about my parents. I want to help bring the man responsible to justice. I want to be the one to see it in his eyes when I take him down. I want him to know that he didn't win, but I did.” Babs spoke in a rigid tone. Gordon shook his head, a part of him dying as he heard it. She sounded like Bruce, sounded like Batman. She had to know.
For once Gordon was at a loss for words. He was good at consoling Bruce, in fact he knew how to do it by heart now; but this was Babs... This was a young woman whose future hung in the balance. She wanted what Bruce had wanted when his parents were murdered; to see the man brought down, to see the fear in his eyes, to make sure it never happened to anyone else. It was noble and in most cases Gordon would go with it and encourage it. This wasn't most cases,however, this was his niece, possibly even his blood daughter – most of all, she was just sixteen years old. Sixteen was hardly old enough to make a wise.
“What did Bruce say?”
Babs sighed. “He said no.”
“You're a bit young to be thinking vengeance. I'd like to see you be more focused on school. Maybe when you graduate high school you can think about it again,” Gordon said, taking a deep breath. “You know, Bruce didn't jump right into crime fighting. He went to school, and I think he was 23 when he went off to start training.” Gordon was hoping that if he could convince her to wait until she was out of school then by the time she did graduate she would have forgotten about the whole the thing, and if not, she would be an adult by then and could decide for herself – hopefully Bruce would have given her enough horror stories by then to steer her off course.
Babs seemed to perk up a bit and held her hand out to her uncle. “If I promise not to bring it up until I finish school, I can do it?”
Gordon took her hand, a part of him regretting this pact already. “Yes. When you finish high school we'll talk this over again.” Now to warn Bruce that they could potentially have a situation a year or so from now.
-----
Bruce was attempting to take his shirt off when Gordon walked into the bedroom, watching the younger man struggle to get the clothing over his head. The stitches in his upper chest were hard not to pull when getting dressed and undressed, and so far Bruce had been wearing robes or button ups, but today he had worn a pull on t-shirt. Gordon shook his head and approached Bruce, taking his arm and part of the shirt and helping him the best he could to get the shirt off.
“Thanks,” Bruce grumbled. “Babs okay?”
Gordon nodded, taking in the sight of Bruce's naked torso, muscles flexing below his abdomen, chest tightening as he moved towards the dresser to grab new bandages for the wounds. Gordon knew it shouldn't turn him on, that the sight of Bruce being wounded should make him break in to 'concerned and caring' mode, but he could help but feel the need to take total advantage of Bruce – it wasn't everyday that Bruce couldn't fight back.
“She's fine. Made a deal with her.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows at Gordon as he peeled off the bandage on his left side. Gordon hated to see the younger man clean the wounds himself and pushed Bruce to the bed playfully, taking the bandages from him. The older man checked the stitches for infection, but so far Bruce seemed to be healing just fine, even if the wound was still oozing a bit.
“A deal?” Bruce asked with a grimace as Gordon touched the skin around the stitches to place the new bandage. In a few days Bruce wouldn't need these; the wounds would hopefully have healed enough not to ooze anymore. Gordon grabbed another bandage and then peeled the old one off the upper right side of Bruce's chest.
“Told her that if she made it through school and still wanted to train she would be old enough to make that decision for herself,” Gordon said, checking the second wound now and then replacing the old bandage with the new. He watched as Bruce grimaced again as the older man's fingers trailed across the bumps of the stitches under the bandage.
“You obviously don't know that her hatred for Elliot isn't going to falter. She's just going to want it more by then,” Bruce said as he laid back on the bed, his left arm behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
Gordon shrugged. “Maybe so. I won't be able to stop her when she's eighteen, though.” He sat down next to Bruce, letting his urge to touch the billionaire consume him. He reached out his fingers and began to trace them up Bruce's belly, to his ribs, chest, neck – careful to avoid all the danger zones. He leaned over Bruce to gaze at him, holding eye contact.
“Maybe I should start her on basics,” Bruce said lazily, his voice softening into a whisper.
“Maybe. Can we talk about this later?” Gordon asked as he lowered his lips onto the sensitive skin of Bruce's neck, leaving a trail of kisses leading to his ear. Bruce turned his head sharply towards Gordon's, catching his lips with his mouth, letting out a deep sigh. Gordon wanted, to be gentle and kind, to show Bruce that they didn't have to be rough all the time. But a knock at the door forced them away from each other.
“Come in,” Bruce said as he gazed at Gordon apologetically. Alfred entered the room, apparently aware of what they were up to. He gave both Gordon and Bruce accusing glares.
“I do hope you both take into consideration the doctor's recommendation of waiting at least a week before any physical activities,” the older gentleman said promptly. Gordon and Bruce exchanged glances and shrugged.
“'Recommended' being the keyword, Alfred,” Bruce retorted smugly. Alfred sighed as if he was being pushed aside. Gordon knew the man was used to being Bruce's keeper and that Bruce usually listened to him, or at least took his advice to heart.
“Very well. Dinner will be ready soon. Miss Gordon and I are preparing dessert, so when you two are through here, we'd like you to join us down in the dining room.” And with that Alfred left.
Gordon started to chuckle, scooting off the bed to find Bruce a button-up shirt from the closet. Bruce groaned. “He's getting worse.”
“Well, maybe we should take the doctor's advice for a week,” Gordon said as he helped Bruce into the shirt. Bruce glared at him.
“Since when have I ever done what I was told?”
“I have to?” Bruce asked as he quirked an eyebrow at Gordon who was standing defensively over him.
“Doesn't have to be the whole truth, Bruce. But she is worried and she is curious. Something... believable would be good,” Gordon explained as he pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.
“So polo, spelunking, and golf are pretty much out of the question?” Bruce asked in a teasing tone as a sly smile spread on his lips. Gordon just glared at him. “Alright, alright. I'll think of something.”
------
Bruce managed to talk his way out of an extra three days of hospital stay by explaining that Alfred had served in the British Army as a paramedic and was more than capable of taking care of Bruce, and besides, the over worked nurses and doctors had patients far worse off than the billionaire. A check for a considerable donation was signed along with release papers to keep the hospital from being sued if something happened to go wrong with Bruce after he left. A small price to pay to keep his privacy and the hope that the media wasn't going to find out.
Not that there was a doubt that the press had caught word; it was just a matter of time before they found their clues. Luckily they didn't have any problems driving back to Gotham. Jim and Babs took the truck and dropped everything off at the apartment and Bruce drove back with Alfred, who proceeded to pleasantly scold him all the way to the Manor. Bruce managed to keep a smile on his face; Alfred was the father Bruce had missed out on, the mother he needed and the friend he always wished he'd had in Rachel. Alfred was Bruce's only real family, the only part of his past that remained intact.
Except for Tommy Elliot – he still needed to be dealt with, and Bruce was done playing around. Childhood friend or not, Elliot was crossing a line, and Bruce had let him get away with it thus far, but it was going to end. Just the fact that Elliot had brought Jim into the equation – into their childhood tiff – made Bruce even angrier. He had never thought that Tommy would stoop so low just to get back at him. There was revenge, and then there was just plain murder, and Bruce would have neither anymore. If Tommy wanted to play in Bruce's playground then Bruce was going to start setting some ground rules.
Alfred had pulled up to the curb of the driveway at Wayne Manor, walked around to Bruce's door and helped him out, even though Bruce was pushing the older gentlemen away. Alfred mumbled something about Bruce being a stubborn pain in the ass. Bruce raised his eyes to meet Alfred's as he stepped onto the curb, reaching out for the butler's shoulder to appease him.
“What was that, Alfred? I didn't quite catch that.” Bruce quipped in a snarky tone. Alfred sighed heavily, brushing Bruce's hand off his shoulder.
“I don't know how Commissioner Gordon puts up with you,” Alfred replied as he pulled Bruce's bags out of the back of the car and started for the front door. Bruce was close behind him. He had to take the walking slow, the wounds ached and he kept finding he felt out of breath. He'd work on that, because there was no way he was staying down for more than a week, let alone three months. This was just another minor setback – something else to overcome.
“He has a lot more patience than you do,” Bruce said to Alfred as he caught up with him on the steps, Alfred unlocking the front door and allowing Bruce to enter.
“I'm sure.”
Bruce tossed Alfred one of those quirky little smiles that suggested more than Alfred ever wanted to know. He followed Alfred up the stairs slowly. “What do you think I should tell Babs?”
Alfred reached the top of the stairs and turned his head back to Bruce briefly. “I don't think young Miss Gordon needs to know about your rooftop escapades, Master Wayne, but I do not suggest blatantly lying to her either.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes on the butler; it was the same thing Jim had said to him at the hospital. How did they expect him to tell Babs the truth without giving her the whole truth and without lying? Alfred continued on and put Bruce's suitcases in his bedroom, stopping when he saw Bruce's confusion.
“Perhaps telling Miss Gordon about your past with Thomas Elliot would explain the situation to her without giving away everything else, sir,” Alfred offered as Bruce entered the bedroom. It was a good idea. Bruce could always count on Alfred to be insightful, especially when it came to children; Bruce didn't mind kids, but he didn't have a good sense of what needed to be done when it came to taking care of one or even talking to one. Thank God that so far talking to Babs had been like talking to anyone else. Well, as long as he could ignore her whining when things didn't quite go her way, but Bruce figured that was typical, though Jim couldn't give him any insight on that, either; neither of them had any idea what to expect of a teenage girl.
Bruce sat down at the edge of the bed. He wasn't tired but he knew if he didn't rest for the next two days he wasn't going to be up for going to the Flying Grayson's acrobat show, which would disappointBabs and only annoy Jim, who would end up taking Babs, Jimmy and Susan by himself – Bruce would never hear the end of it and Jim would constantly remind him of how much Bruce owed him.
Alfred picked up the armored suitcase and started for the door. “Cave?” he asked the younger man. Bruce nodded.
“Please,” Bruce replied with a nod.
------
Gordon took Alfred's sound advice when they left the hospital and let Bruce rest a day before he and Babs made their way over to the Manor. Babs hadn't brought up Bruce's injuries or anything else having to do with the incident, but Gordon could tell she was curious. Every now and then she had a look on her face that suggested she was thinking about it, worried and unsure what to think. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't important, it wasn't something she needed to think about, but the fact was it had more to do with her than she would hopefully ever realize.
There was no way he would ever be able to tell her that Elliot had killed her parents – if she ever found out about Bruce and how he took revenge for his parents' death then she would be likely to follow suit. Gordon would prefer she didn't; what Bruce did was dangerous, and a sixteen-year-old didn't need to be doing that.
Hopefully Bruce had some up with come good explanation for Babs because Gordon wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep anything from her concerning Elliot. They walked into the Manor to find Bruce coming down the stair case slowly, grasping the rail and rubbing in the wound at his side. Gordon wasn't about to run and see if he needed help, but Bruce had his hand up, palm out, to stop him.
“I'm fine,” the billionaire said. Bruce took the last few steps quickly, giving Gordon a small smile, but the older man could see the pain behind Bruce's eyes. Bruce never took pain medication though; he always battled through the pain as though it made him stronger to pull through on his own. Gordon thought it ridiculous that Bruce wouldn't take anything, even to take off the edge. But this was the man behind the cowl, and he was ever the masochist.
Bruce held his hand out to Babs, giving Gordon a knowing glance. “Can we talk in my study?” he asked her as she took his hand and they started towards the back of the Manor.
“Bruce...” Gordon warned, knowing full well that the study lead to the 'batcave'.
Bruce threw a glance back to the older man to suggest that he wasn't doing anything drastic. Gordon made his way towards the living room.
------
Bruce settled Babs into the desk chair, sitting down on the edge of the desk himself, turning to face her. She looked a little confused but also had a curious look about her, as if she knew what Bruce was going to say to her, that soon her confusion would just disappear. It was then that Bruce wished he had never gone on that trip with her and Gordon – things were going to change in the near future and he could already tell it was going to be all his fault.
Again.
“It's been brought to my attention that I should probably explain a few things about what happened,” Bruce said. She had her hands folded in her lap, rubbing them together nervously. Bruce began to think that maybe she was expecting the worst of him, of the situation. He couldn't say that it was a good situation, but it wasn't as if he were a murderer or anything. So he put a smile on his face to reassure her.
“Barbara, have you ever had a friend who blamed you for something that wasn't even your fault? And no matter how much you reasoned with them, they just couldn't see it any other way?”
Babs' eyes seemed to register her understanding of what Bruce was getting at and she nodded. “Yes.”
“Alright. When I was about eight, I had a friend named Tommy. We were best friends. But one night Tommy's parents were in a freak car 'accident'. His father died and his mother lived, due to my father saving her life. My father was a doctor. Tommy was forced to live with his mother, who kept him on a very tight leash.” Bruce paused to make sure Babs was following. She was. “It came to my attention within this last year that Tommy was the one that caused his parent's car accident all those years ago. Apparently he hated his parents quite a bit. He ended up mad at me for a few reasons. One was that my father saved his mother's life and the other was that when my parents died I got to do the things he always wanted to, but couldn't because his mother kept that hold on him and the money his father left.”
Babs scrunched up her face. “But when his mother died wouldn't he have gotten the money anyway?”
“Yeah. He didn't see it that way. He wanted his life to start the moment he tried to kill them both. He's just always held that grudge. Unfortunately, he's tried a number of times to get back at me, usually by means of hurting those around me. It just happened that this time he actually did try to kill me.”
Babs got very still, and Bruce watched her swallow visibly. “Bruce. I may have overheard you and Uncle Jim talking the other night when you first got shot. Did 'Tommy' kill my parents?”
“I'm not entirely sure.” Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think.
“But Bruce, you said he's been trying to get back at you by hurting those around you. If he knows about you and Uncle Jim...”
“He does.”
“...then he would do that, right?” Babs' eyes were pleading with him, and he had no way to say no to her, or to lie. It was obvious that Elliot had killed Gordon's brother and sister-in-law; he was the only person to know that it could potentially break them. And yet, thank God, it hadn't; it only brought them closer.
Bruce began to wonder just how much Babs had over-heard the other night, but she wasn't bringing up anything else, so maybe he was still safe. “Your uncle is still checking into things at the station. There's no proof yet that Tommy was the killer.”
“I'm not a kid, you know. You don't have to dumb things down for me.” Her voice had started out quite small and had risen as she went on, obviously growing quite angry and even annoyed at the thought that Bruce and her uncle weren't treating her as an adult.
“Babs... I'm not trying to. There's so much that hasn't been investigated yet that we just don't know for sure.” It had slipped out before he had a chance to reclaim what he said, to backtrack and start again. Too late.
“We? So you do work at Major Crimes?” Babs asked. Bruce could see it in the young girl's eyes, the recognition, the need and the desire to know everything. Bruce felt utterly exposed; there were very few people to whom he would openly admit to being Batman, and he never wanted one of them to be the niece of Jim Gordon.
“Well...Wayne Tech helps out quite a bit with the technology...” Bruce started, and then he saw Babs' face fall, as if she knew he was lying to her. He moved in a little closer, bending at the waist to meet her eyes, even though it hurt the bullet wound at his side to do so. “Yes, I work with your uncle. It's very complicated and its not something I talk about to anyone but your uncle. It's pretty top secret.”
Babs smiled, despite the tears that had formed in her eyes, probably from thinking about the death of her parents and Elliot. “Bruce... I said I wasn't stupid. I won't tell.” It was stated as a fact, as if he didn't have to tell her, and she could simply place together the pieces she was given. It wasn't hard to figure out, Bruce knew, when you knew him outside of the playboy persona. Batman had lots of cool gadgets, things not many people could afford; it only seemed feasible that Batman would be Bruce Wayne, or at least someone who worked for Wayne Enterprises. No, Babs was definitely not stupid.
Bruce didn't say anything.
“Just tell me, do you think this 'Tommy' guy killed my parents?”
There was no lying to her anymore, and Bruce knew for a fact that Jim was going to kill him for this. “Yes,” Bruce said with a grimace. He watched a certain fire in her eyes ignite, something familiar and cold, undeserving of the attention she was providing it. He knew the rage well, and he knew the question that was going to spill from her lips any second, and he could honestly say he wasn't ready with an answer, because whatever the answer was, someone was going to get hurt.
“Can you teach me?”
Bruce quickly shook his head. “No,” he whispered.
“This guy needs to pay for what he did. Your parents were murdered. That's why you do what you do, isn't it? Revenge?” Babs questioned. Her voice was growing louder, and Bruce could hear the hatred shake in her.
“It was one reason. I do what I do for Gotham. So it doesn't happen to anyone else. It doesn't always work that way though.” He was glaring down at the floor, avoiding her gaze; he didn't need to see it to know the look she was giving him was far from understanding. “Tommy will be taken care of. I promise. But I can't let you take the same path I did. You have a brighter future to look forward to, more to accomplish.”
“I just want to do what's right. I trained in self-defense back in Chicago. It wouldn't be that hard to train me.” Babs was begging now. She had dropped her tone down and Bruce could hear the small whine of tears straining her voice.
“It's out of the question,” Bruce said as he slid off the desk, feeling the strain of the conversation in his chest, piercing his heart and his breath quickened as he struggled for a minute to breathe through the pain. “Your uncle would never forgive me. This stays between you and me.” He walked out of the room and down the hall. He didn't want to break her heart, but a sixteen-year-old training to fight crime, to serve-up justice on a silver platter was the most ridiculous thing he had heard in a long time. He didn't need that on his shoulders. He didn't need Babs throwing her life away for some foolish notion that what Batman stood for could be what she stood for.
Bruce was sure she would hate him now; but he could live with a little hate if it meant that it kept her from tangling with the wrong people. Bruce sighed as he walked the past living room where Jim was sitting reading the newspaper, and took the stairs up to his bedroom. He was not in the mood now to deal with anything. They had the show tomorrow and he was suddenly feeling very drained.
“Bruce?” Jim called after him. Bruce stopped only briefly.
“You should probably go to talk to your niece.”
-----
Gordon found Babs in the study completely quiet, looking really lost in her own thoughts. He saw she had been crying, but she had since stopped and now looked very angry. He tried to smile at her but her face kept that deep brooding darkness.
“Why does everyone treat me like I'm a child?” she asked after a few minutes of silence. Gordon wasn't sure he was following – he wasn't even sure of what Bruce had told her – but he was starting to get an idea. Babs looked up at him from the chair. “It's not fair.”
“What's not fair, sweetheart?” Gordon asked, kneeling down next to the chair. She looked at him like he was doing something wrong, and he stood back up – things like that must be what she was talking about. Treat her as an adult; it's what she wants.
“I know about my parents. I want to help bring the man responsible to justice. I want to be the one to see it in his eyes when I take him down. I want him to know that he didn't win, but I did.” Babs spoke in a rigid tone. Gordon shook his head, a part of him dying as he heard it. She sounded like Bruce, sounded like Batman. She had to know.
For once Gordon was at a loss for words. He was good at consoling Bruce, in fact he knew how to do it by heart now; but this was Babs... This was a young woman whose future hung in the balance. She wanted what Bruce had wanted when his parents were murdered; to see the man brought down, to see the fear in his eyes, to make sure it never happened to anyone else. It was noble and in most cases Gordon would go with it and encourage it. This wasn't most cases,however, this was his niece, possibly even his blood daughter – most of all, she was just sixteen years old. Sixteen was hardly old enough to make a wise.
“What did Bruce say?”
Babs sighed. “He said no.”
“You're a bit young to be thinking vengeance. I'd like to see you be more focused on school. Maybe when you graduate high school you can think about it again,” Gordon said, taking a deep breath. “You know, Bruce didn't jump right into crime fighting. He went to school, and I think he was 23 when he went off to start training.” Gordon was hoping that if he could convince her to wait until she was out of school then by the time she did graduate she would have forgotten about the whole the thing, and if not, she would be an adult by then and could decide for herself – hopefully Bruce would have given her enough horror stories by then to steer her off course.
Babs seemed to perk up a bit and held her hand out to her uncle. “If I promise not to bring it up until I finish school, I can do it?”
Gordon took her hand, a part of him regretting this pact already. “Yes. When you finish high school we'll talk this over again.” Now to warn Bruce that they could potentially have a situation a year or so from now.
-----
Bruce was attempting to take his shirt off when Gordon walked into the bedroom, watching the younger man struggle to get the clothing over his head. The stitches in his upper chest were hard not to pull when getting dressed and undressed, and so far Bruce had been wearing robes or button ups, but today he had worn a pull on t-shirt. Gordon shook his head and approached Bruce, taking his arm and part of the shirt and helping him the best he could to get the shirt off.
“Thanks,” Bruce grumbled. “Babs okay?”
Gordon nodded, taking in the sight of Bruce's naked torso, muscles flexing below his abdomen, chest tightening as he moved towards the dresser to grab new bandages for the wounds. Gordon knew it shouldn't turn him on, that the sight of Bruce being wounded should make him break in to 'concerned and caring' mode, but he could help but feel the need to take total advantage of Bruce – it wasn't everyday that Bruce couldn't fight back.
“She's fine. Made a deal with her.”
Bruce raised his eyebrows at Gordon as he peeled off the bandage on his left side. Gordon hated to see the younger man clean the wounds himself and pushed Bruce to the bed playfully, taking the bandages from him. The older man checked the stitches for infection, but so far Bruce seemed to be healing just fine, even if the wound was still oozing a bit.
“A deal?” Bruce asked with a grimace as Gordon touched the skin around the stitches to place the new bandage. In a few days Bruce wouldn't need these; the wounds would hopefully have healed enough not to ooze anymore. Gordon grabbed another bandage and then peeled the old one off the upper right side of Bruce's chest.
“Told her that if she made it through school and still wanted to train she would be old enough to make that decision for herself,” Gordon said, checking the second wound now and then replacing the old bandage with the new. He watched as Bruce grimaced again as the older man's fingers trailed across the bumps of the stitches under the bandage.
“You obviously don't know that her hatred for Elliot isn't going to falter. She's just going to want it more by then,” Bruce said as he laid back on the bed, his left arm behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.
Gordon shrugged. “Maybe so. I won't be able to stop her when she's eighteen, though.” He sat down next to Bruce, letting his urge to touch the billionaire consume him. He reached out his fingers and began to trace them up Bruce's belly, to his ribs, chest, neck – careful to avoid all the danger zones. He leaned over Bruce to gaze at him, holding eye contact.
“Maybe I should start her on basics,” Bruce said lazily, his voice softening into a whisper.
“Maybe. Can we talk about this later?” Gordon asked as he lowered his lips onto the sensitive skin of Bruce's neck, leaving a trail of kisses leading to his ear. Bruce turned his head sharply towards Gordon's, catching his lips with his mouth, letting out a deep sigh. Gordon wanted, to be gentle and kind, to show Bruce that they didn't have to be rough all the time. But a knock at the door forced them away from each other.
“Come in,” Bruce said as he gazed at Gordon apologetically. Alfred entered the room, apparently aware of what they were up to. He gave both Gordon and Bruce accusing glares.
“I do hope you both take into consideration the doctor's recommendation of waiting at least a week before any physical activities,” the older gentleman said promptly. Gordon and Bruce exchanged glances and shrugged.
“'Recommended' being the keyword, Alfred,” Bruce retorted smugly. Alfred sighed as if he was being pushed aside. Gordon knew the man was used to being Bruce's keeper and that Bruce usually listened to him, or at least took his advice to heart.
“Very well. Dinner will be ready soon. Miss Gordon and I are preparing dessert, so when you two are through here, we'd like you to join us down in the dining room.” And with that Alfred left.
Gordon started to chuckle, scooting off the bed to find Bruce a button-up shirt from the closet. Bruce groaned. “He's getting worse.”
“Well, maybe we should take the doctor's advice for a week,” Gordon said as he helped Bruce into the shirt. Bruce glared at him.
“Since when have I ever done what I was told?”