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Reconciled Moments
Chapter Six
written by destinyawakened
For the first time since March Bruce stood on top of the Major Crimes Unit building in his Kevlar reinforced suit, cowl in place. The Bat-signal shone high in the sky and below in the city was just stirring awake to head out nightclubs and parties. Cars had been honking for the last thirty minutes, as the signal had not been seen in a long time. To some it was a reminder that someone was watching over them, a Silent Guardian; to others it was fear, the symbol of a brutal and relentless Dark Knight. To Bruce, it was the reminder that he had a partnership with Gotham City's Police Commissioner through friendship, trust, and, most importantly, love. Bruce Wayne was happy to have his place back in Gotham, on the rooftop with Jim and in the hearts of the citizens, good or bad.
This was his city – their city.
Jim walked around the signal and switched it off in one fluid gesture. He looked worn and frazzled, weary. Bruce noticed that Jim's tie was hanging loosely around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his suit jacket missing altogether. The unkempt commissioner was very alluring, and his obliviousness to the fact that made him even more inviting. Usually, Bruce would jab a finger in his direction and make a lewd comment, to which Jim would most likely roll his eyes and attempt to move on. Bruce was notorious for flirting at any given moment; Alfred said it was a nervous habit, a shield that Bruce put up to avoid having to say what was really on his mind (not to mention keeping those who might suspect he was Batman from ever suspecting again). Bruce couldn't help that Jim brought out the flirt in him naturally.
Bruce opted to merely let his gaze roll over Jim's body twice before the older man shook his head, suggesting that he couldn't believe Bruce would take a moment like this to be thinking about bed room activities. But Bruce knew he wasn't the only one, and no matter how much Jim tried to hide the fact that he was mindlessly thinking about sex, Bruce knew all too well that the other man was on the brink of breaking. Bruce liked it though; he liked how Jim tried to act as if the obvious weren't true. It just meant that Bruce had to try harder, which also meant the end result would be well worth the energy and effort.
James Gordon was definitely worth both and then some. James Gordon had become everything Bruce ever thought he would need in someone to love. James Gordon had broken past Bruce's carefully crafted defenses, walked into his heart and made his home there. Bruce never intended for his life to be happy after Rachel's death – James Gordon changed all of that. They both saw Gotham for what she was, a mistress to be tamed, to be fought for, to die for – to save. Their common goals and dreams bound them together like a book, and they read each other seamlessly. There were moments – now gone and forgotten in mutual respect – where they didn't see eye-to-eye, the printing of their pages a little too small in parts, and maybe just a little too large in others. But those few distraught and distracting pages hardly made up for the ones that came before and the ones still being written. Bruce hoped the book didn't end anytime soon.
“I never want to have to unplug this thing again,” Jim said wistfully. He placed his hands on his hips, misty blue eyes staring at Bruce through the horn-rimmed glasses planted firmly on his face, as always. Bruce pulled at the fingers of his gloves and tossed that part of his uniform to the rooftop. He took a step towards Jim, reaching out a hand to the commissioner's face, fingertips brushing the worry-lines in the older man's forehead and stopping when his thumb brushed the hair on Jim's upper lip, fingers spread across his cheek.
“You'll never have to.” There was a sweet sincerity in Bruce's voice, a distinct tone somewhere between meaning it and signing it in blood. He saw a light flicker on in Jim's eyes as Bruce ran his hand through the other man's soft hair, feeling each strand between the pads of his fingers. Bruce made a promise to himself that he would give thanks for Jim Gordon every time he had a moment to himself. Jim was his savior, his light, the reason he felt he could move on after his parents' death. His soul mate, his best friend, and his lover. Just plain his.
More honking from the streets below and Bruce watched Jim's lips curl into that little wispy smile that sneaked out from under his mustache just enough to look bashful. Bruce leaned in and kissed the smile off Jim's lips. A slow, warm tongue reached out to Bruce's, their mouths covering each other, sealed so no breath could escape. It was as if they were underwater, sharing what little air was left before drowning together. Bruce wouldn't mind drowning with Jim forever, if he could, just as they were in a metaphorical pool of lust, love and devotion. How was it that Jim Gordon made him feel so complete and so careless.
Everything was changing. Everything changed. Bruce didn't mind.
Jim pulled back first, hand placed gingerly on Bruce's chest plate. Bruce wished for a brief moment that they were somewhere private so he could take the suit off and feel Jim's large, rough hands smooth over his bare chest, touching him in the way only Jim knew how. Instead, Bruce dropped one hand over Jim's and curled his fingers around the hand. Jim's eyes went to their hands, slowly tracing their way up again to Bruce's face until their gazes met once more.
Sometime in the last month Jim had finally dropped his own defenses. Bruce was finally seeing the part of Jim he had longed to know personally since the day he had held the older man up with a stapler – the confident, caring, and loving husband and father. Jim had loved his family before they split apart, and when it had happened, when his now ex-wife had left him... he had been shattered. But something had happened, something must have changed, because everyday a little more of “Jim Gordon the husband and father” bled into their life together. Bruce didn't mind, he was finding every detail of the commissioner's personality to be sexy, right down to the way he flossed his teeth.
Oh, Bruce. You have fallen in love. Don't let this one break you like... But he didn't even want to finish his thoughts, the name was just a name now. Bruce had moved on without having to change who he was or to give up the piece of his life that he needed to stay completely grounded: Batman. Jim took Bruce so openly for who he was, especially now that things had finally leveled out into a smooth pattern. If everything stayed on the track it was headed, Bruce never saw his life without Jim Gordon. Or his niece Babs, for that matter. Bruce definitely could live with Jim and Babs as his family. Oh, and Alfred too, of course.
“What are you thinking?” Jim asked with his head cocked to the side slightly, eying Bruce suspiciously. Bruce merely smiled at the commissioner.
“I think the better question would be: what am I not thinking?” Bruce would admit that it was nice to have his own thoughts back, his head cleared completely from the fog that had hung there for months. Jim rolled his eyes, a gesture that suggested he assumed Bruce had his mind in the gutter again.
Bruce began to protest but was silenced as Gerard Stephens walked through the rooftop door, not looking at all surprised to see the two embraced there. He nodded his head as he searched his pockets for his cigarettes. Bruce felt Jim's body tense in his arms, but only held him a little closer. Jim let his gaze reach Bruce's again, a lot of worry on his face. They both knew Gerry had figured it out a while back, but Jim had been hesitant to openly admit to it. Jim pushed on Bruce's chest and the vigilante let go regretfully. Jim stood a good three feet from Bruce, and all the younger man could think about was being close to him again.
“Don't stop on my account,” Gerry said, lighting up a cigarette and handing another to Jim. The commissioner stared at the cigarette and then looked to Bruce. Jim frowned and denied it with a wave of his hand. Gerry shrugged.
“We weren't –” Jim had started, and this time Gerry held a hand in the air, taking a drag.
“Listen. We're all detectives here. The clues are laid out pretty thick in front of your two. You can fool the mayor and you can fool the rookies, but you can't fool a veteran detective who's worked along side you, Jim, for nearly fifteen years.” Gerry took another drag, calm and reserved, not once raising his voice. Jim looked as if he'd gone and slept on a bed of nails all night and was trying not to show the pain. Bruce wanted to laugh. He liked Gerry, even if Gerry always seemed very hesitant to be in the same room with Bruce at any given time.
Jim glared at Gerry as if he were trying to burn a hole through his head. Bruce knew that Jim liked to think that everything the two of them did together was was completely private and that everyone was oblivious. This was clearly not the case. If a sixteen-year-old girl could figure it out in less than two days, there was no way half of MCU didn't know either.
“Can we please move on to the task at hand?” Jim said, hands on his hips. Bruce noticed Jim used this particular body language when he needed to exert his authority. Gerry put up with it because Jim was the boss and because Jim was as hard-headed as they came. No one back talked the Commissioner, and the one person that had dared hadalready got hers in the end.
Gerry shrugged. “You're the boss.”
“Mayor Garcia has agreed to allow –” Jim paused to look at Bruce and find the right name“ – Batman to 'officially' help out with cases again. This means we can get a move on with the Bludhaven case. The sooner we figure out who ran Roger's car off the road, the sooner we can get this case closed..” He didn't want to mention that he thought it had been done intentionally, because there was no proof of that.
Bruce was surprised with Jim. He had thought for sure that he would have seen the older man break down by now, show how he was really feeling about his brother's death. Then again, Jim had rarely brought his brother up at all; the first time Bruce had heard about him was a few weeks ago when Jim mentioned he was coming to visit. Bruce assumed, especially now, that it had been a strained relationship that no one mentioned, and that everyone had moved on, pretending everything was fine. Sooner or later, it would catch up to the commissioner and he would be overwhelmed with his own emotions. Bruce was watchful, aware that it could happen on a whim. But Jim was tough, and only in the most desperate of situations would he ever show any emotion other than a happy or neutral one. This made him think of Babs. The girl had adapted quickly to her situation, though Bruce knew for a fact that she had probably cried herself to sleep the past two nights. But, she definitely seemed better since he had chatted with her yesterday and that morning.
Bruce had an overall good feeling about Babs. There was spunk and spark in her that reminded Bruce of someone...
“... Are you even listening?” Jim was staring at Bruce, head tipped down, glasses sliding down his nose a bit, and glaring at the vigilante over the rims. Bruce set his jaw and his lips into that grim line, clenching his fists at his side. It was what Jim often called Bruce's “I'm trying to be bad-ass” pose, always mockingly and always teasing, but it did the job whether it worked on the commissioner or not. Bruce also knew Jim liked it, even if he wouldn't outright admit it.
Jim narrowed his eyes at Bruce and then moved his gaze back to Gerry. “As I was saying. I'd like to get the rest of the results from the tests run on the bodies for any sign of mishandling. Gerry, I know you can get that for me. And you –” Jim shifted his gaze once again to Batman “– I need you to check the car for any paint scratches that the BP and GCP might have missed, see if we can pin point at least a car color, if nothing else.”
It was easy. Too easy even for Bruce, but he would do it for Jim. “Consider it done,” Bruce rasped. He could do it in less than than a day and he almost felt it would be worth it to get right on it. The look Jim was giving him suggested he wait until tomorrow, but Batman didn't work days, and waiting with this on his mind all day tomorrow was just not going to happen. Bruce nodded to Gerry and turned, brushing his hand against Jim's ever so lightly, enough for the older man to turn his head and watch Bruce as he jumped down the ledge into a pool of shadows.
------
Gordon was only a little disappointed when Bruce left so quickly to get on the case. He really should have known that the younger man was itching to get his hands into something good, no matter what it was. He just wished Bruce had waited until tomorrow night, since the looming sexual tension of the past few days had been more than wearing Gordon down. He had been hoping for at least some kind of physical contact, to have some release. But he couldn't stop a car that had no brakes; Bruce would find what Gordon had asked for and then his mind would be free to wander else where and that was when Gordon would finally make his move.
If time allowed. The next few days were going to rough. Gordon and Babs had to go have their blood taken for the DNA tests (he had told Babs it was to be sure he was her uncle), then he needed to take Babs to Brentwood Academy to enroll her (Bruce had demanded it, even shelled out the money to pay the tuition), and then make last-minute arrangements for the funeral on Saturday. The last item he really wanted to get done quickly so he could move on in the same manner. The sooner it was done the sooner he could put it behind him and set his eyes to the future. He hoped that Babs could do the same, though he didn't wish her to forget all together – just that she knew that moving forward was what would be best.
So far, Babs had seemed to take her parents' death better than Gordon ever imagined. Whatever Bruce had said to her while he was out at the corner store had really made a change in her attitude. Maybe Bruce was the person she needed in her life, someone who had dealt with events similar to hers and had moved on to live a full, happy and healthy life. Just as long as Bruce left out the day he vowed to clean up the streets of Gotham by dressing up as a bat, Gordon could live with Babs seeing a mentor and friend in the billionaire. They were practically family, after all.
Gordon placed his key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door to his apartment open. Babs was laying curled up on a third of the couch, lap top closed on the seat next to her, fast asleep. The television was on the Lifetime channel. Gordon slipped off his jacket and threw it over a kitchen chair and toed his shoes off next to the couch. He reached over and turned the television off. He took the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Babs. She stirred slightly, mumbling something about her parents that Gordon couldn't quite understand.
He squatted down beside the couch and watched her for a few minutes, moving a strand of her brownish-red hair away from her face. Such a sweet, smart, and caring girl should not have had to go through the tragedy that she had. It wasn't fair. Gordon stood and quietly walked towards his bedroom.
“Uncle Jim?” Babs called out softly, and Gordon turned around, hand on the edge of the hallway arch. He smiled at her as he saw her eyes peek over the back of the couch at him.
“Yes, sweetheart?” His tone was soft and soothing. He missed his kids, he missed everything about watching them grow up. Soon, Susan was going to Babs' age and he wouldn't know where the time had gone. Soon Jimmy would graduate high school, then college, and someday both his kids would get married and have kids of their own, and Gordon would still be stuck believing they were small. He needed to call Barbara again.
“I'm glad you're home. I missed you today.” Babs had folded her arms over the back of the couch and was giving him a sincere little smile. She had been crying, he could tell, but she was hiding it pretty well. He wouldn't push it.
Gordon walked back into the living room and knelt down to her eye level. “Are you hungry? I was thinking we could order a pizza and maybe watch a movie? If you're up to it?”
Babs' eyes lit up and Gordon didn't really need to hear her answer. “I'd really like that.” Gordon kissed her on the forehead as he stood. He glanced at the microwave clock; it was nearly eleven in the evening, and he had to start early tomorrow, but he also needed this time with Babs. He'd survive. Bruce did it all the time, living on four hours of sleep or less a night. It couldn't be that hard and it would be well worth it.
“What do you like on your pizza?”
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