written by destinyawakened
What happens now? Bruce's voices was so prominent in his thoughts that he was sure he was actually next to him, hearing him whisper softly in his ear. He hoped that when he opened his eyes he would be lying next to the young man, arm wound tightly around his stomach, holding him close, the world not shattering down around them. But that, Gordon knew, was a naive thought to have. He opened his eyes to the dimly lit room. He couldn't quite remember where he was at first, but after taking a moment to look around, he knew he was at MCU in the interrogation room.
To his right Alfred was checking and replacing bandages on Bruce, who was actually awake and alert. The last Gordon time had seen Bruce, he was passed out on the table. That was hours ago, though. Gordon wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but to say that hours had passed seemed about the right, given the way his body was aching from sleeping up-right in a metal chair. He stretched his arms above his head and rubbed his eyes. Where were his glasses? Oh right, coat pocket. He had found an old pair in his office drawer to use --no use in going blind until he could order a new pair. He dug them out of his pocket and put them on. He could see Bruce and Alfred more clearly now. Bruce looked a lot better, though he still had deep, dark circles under his eyes and massive amounts of bruising on his torso.
Gordon hunched over in his chair, elbows on his knees, and pushed up to stand. Bruce looked up at him and gave him one of the damn cheesy grins that always made Gordon want to roll his eyes. He couldn't see how Bruce could even fake the playboy thing right now under the circumstances. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair with a little sigh. Bruce seemed to catch on that he was not too impressed with his charade. He offered Gordon a small shrug and an apologetic smile.
“You seem to be doing a lot better,” Gordon said. It wasn't as touching as he wanted it to be, but he felt a little awkward with Alfred standing beside Bruce, redressing wounds.
“I've felt better.” Bruce replied. He looked at Alfred, who had just finished putting on the last bandage. Bruce gestured at him; Alfred gave a little nod and what looked to Gordon like an annoyed eye-roll. He wanted to laugh, but thought Alfred might give him a dirty look next. Alfred stood and left the room. Bruce turned back to Gordon and motioned to the glass wall. “Anyone on that side?”
Gordon shook his head. “No. No one is allowed back here until we move you. But we can't do that until your lawyer gets here.”
“He'll be here,” Bruce said. He seemed to notice the worry written on Gordon's face. “I'm not going to go to Arkham. You and I both know I don't really belong there.”
Gordon let out a disbelieving laugh. “Have you forgotten that you've supposedly killed five people? If you don't go to Arkham, you'll end up in prison. Prison isn't so nice to billionaire playboys, Bruce.” Gordon had put his hands on his hips, standing over him. But then he saw the laugh Bruce was trying to suppress and realized he must have looked like an overprotective father trying to tell his kid what to do. He dropped his arms and let them relax at his sides, giving a big sigh.
Bruce shook his head, using the back of his chair to help him stand. Gordon moved forward and put a hand on the other man's bare back to help. Bruce smiled at him thankfully and then stepped closer to Gordon. “Don't worry about it. This is my issue to deal with, Jim. I let it happen, I'll fix it.” Bruce placed his hands on Gordon's shoulders, stepping up to him until their faces were just centimeters apart.
Gordon felt his breath catch and could have sworn he stopped breathing for a moment. His heart was racing in his chest and he felt pounding in his ears. He had told himself that he wouldn't be allowed this close to Bruce Wayne for quite some time, and he had accepted that; but now he was closer to Bruce than he should have been allowed. Gordon felt Bruce's lips touch his, a tingling sensation coursing through him, forcing him to mesh his mouth against Bruce's. He placed a hand on the back of Bruce's head forcing him closer, tongue reaching into the depths of his mouth hungrily, searching for that moment where neither would want to turn back. Gordon felt strong arms around his torso pulling him in tighter to Bruce's bare chest, making him wish he wasn't wearing his jacket or his shirt, yearning to be nearer to the man than he had ever been. Bruce let out a deep moan, and Gordon felt his blood surge through veins, boiling against his skin. He felt that twinge of arousal and pulled away from Bruce quickly before they let it get out of hand.
Gordon saw Bruce look reluctantly at him, lips red, swollen, and protruding out in a little pout that was rather inviting; but Gordon pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He let his hand linger on the back of Bruce's head, feeling the softness of his hair. He brought his other hand up and touched the playboy's cheek; usually his face was soft, cleanly shaved, but now it was rough with stubble, and Gordon found he kind of liked it. He let his gaze run over Bruce's face and then back to his eyes. Bruce was looking at him with a small smile, eyes half glazed with lust. Gordon swallowed; in any other situation he would probably have taken Bruce up on his obvious invitation. Terrible, terrible timing, he thought.
There was a knock at the door, and Gordon pulled away quickly. Bruce folded his arms over his chest as Gordon walked to the door to open it. Alfred, a suit in his hands, was standing there with another man. Gordon moved out of the way and allowed the two men to enter the room. Alfred gave him a rather knowing look and seemed to be having a hard time holding his tongue. Gordon narrowed his eyes at him as he passed by; he didn't think Alfred cared, but he was certainly not going to take those “mother-hen” looks from a man closer to his own age.
Alfred handed the clean, pressed, black suit to Bruce, who seemed to be a bit annoyed that Alfred had brought him that instead of something more comfortable. Gordon waved his hand at Bruce to catch his attention.
“I'm going to be in the other room.” He knew Bruce wouldn't care of he stayed, but Gordon gave him the privacy anyway (even though he could still hear everything in the next room). Bruce nodded and started putting on the white shirt as Gordon left.
Gordon walked into the other room and watched the men, listening to their conversation. Bruce's lawyer was not surprised at Bruce's secret identity. Maybe he knew already? His lawyer work for Wayne Corp, and if Lucius Fox knew, there could be any number of others who had figured it out as well. Or perhaps Bruce had told his lawyer in case something like this ever happened. There was a tap at the door, and Stephens walked in a few second later.
“Gordon. Mayor Garcia is here. He wants to talk to you.”
“Oh. Stay here, will you?” Gordon said. Bruce had been kept under constant supervision and being the only two in the station who knew of Bruce's identity, it fell of Gordon and Stephens to watch him. He walked past Stephens, out the door, and down the hall, where he saw Garcia waiting by the meeting room door. He was talking to Anna Ramirez, who had recently had her badge returned to her after being forced to take a year off. Gordon glared at her. He didn't blame her first-hand for the incident with his family, but he did hold her responsible for the events that lead to it. Dent had been right about a lot of his team, especially Ramirez.
“Commissioner!” Garcia said, shaking Gordon's hand. “Detective Ramirez was just telling me about a mishap with Harvey Dent over a year ago.” He started down the hall toward the meeting room with Gordon next to him, leaving Ramirez by herself, looking grave. Gordon turned his head back to look at her and she gave him a nod. He looked away, a little confused.
“Mishap with Dent, sir?” Gordon asked, as if it were the first time he had ever heard this news.
Garcia opened the meeting room door, ushering Gordon in first and then shutting it behind them. “Don't think me stupid, Gordon. Ramirez told me all about Dent's rampage and her involvement with the mob and the Joker fiasco. That is why you had her on probation, isn't it?”
Gordon nodded. “Well, yes...”
“So Dent was responsible for those deaths, correct?”
Gordon was reluctant, but the mayor was staring him down knowingly, as if maybe he had known all along it was lie. “Yes. But --”
“I don't really need to hear the excuses. I will hold a press conference to retract the story. We can't blame Bruce Wayne for murders he didn't commit. Even though he obviously isn't rejecting the claims. I don't want it to come back at us later,” Garcia said. Gordon couldn't blame him; Bruce was a powerful person. If word got loose that he was Batman and that he had been falsely accused of killing five people, there would be a huge lawsuit on the mayor's hands (not that Gordon thought Bruce would actually do that, but Garcia did).
“Am I still moving him to Arkham?”
“No. I'm sure he can make bail, aren't you, Commissioner?” Garcia smiled slightly, which almost made Gordon uncomfortable. Since the mayor had found out about Bruce Wayne's secret identity, he had been much nicer to the Batman. Gordon couldn't help but wonder if it was due to the fact that Bruce Wayne had always been a huge supporter and always held such large fund raisers for him. Or maybe the mayor had just had a change of heart. For all Gordon knew, it was both.
“We're just going to let him out on bail?” Gordon asked.
“I've talked it over with Judge Hampton. Wayne is going to make bail either way. You know he would.” Garcia paused to see Gordon's reaction, but he didn't give him one. “I'm actually not even sure we have much of a case here. Are you Gordon? You said yourself that Batman wasn't working with Doctor Elliot, and he is really the one we should be focusing on, don't you think? And with his name cleared from the murders, I see no reason to fight this or keep him here.”
Gordon felt his head swim. He was so confused with everything that was going on. Was the mayor really suggesting they let Batman go after having the Batman manhunt of the last two years? “Mayor...”
“Gordon. Just get Wayne out of here,” Garcia said, and he left the meeting room with a little wave. Gordon was left feeling very overwhelmed. What the hell was going on here?
Gordon watched through the glass wall as Bruce shook hands with his lawyer. He and Alfred left existed into the hall. Gordon walked out of the room in time to see the two men, nodded and walked into the interrogation room where Bruce sat half-on and half-off the table, looking at some paper work spread out before him. He looked at Gordon as he approached, and gave him a small smile and raise of the eyebrows.
“Apparently you're free on bail, and I think Mayor Garcia wants to drop all charges.” Gordon said.
Bruce nodded, flipping through more paperwork. “Hmmm,” he said, as if he wasn't all that surprised. “That's what my lawyer tells me. Alfred's taking care of the bail right now.”
Gordon stepped closer to him and eyed him suspiciously, “I think its a little strange that Anna Ramirez can suddenly clear your name and the Mayor doesn't want to press criminal charges anymore.”
Bruce slid off the table and walked over to him, hands placed casually in his pockets. “I told you I was going to take care of it.”
Gordon just stared at him. He didn't really know what Bruce meant, but he had an idea. Bribery? Money bought a lot of people. He didn't think Bruce was so low as to do that, though. Whatever the reason, it explained why Bruce was more than calm about having to reveal his identity. Had he planned for such an occasion all along, so that he would know exactly how it went down? He knew Bruce wasn't stupid. Of course he had a plan. Of course. He only wished Bruce had brought him in on the plan, whatever it was.
“What exactly --”
Bruce placed a hand over Gordon's mouth, “Will you stop fishing for answers? I took care of it. It's done. There are a few repercussions; the worst being that I check in when I patrol now,” he said in mock-disgust
Gordon pushed Bruce's hand away and frowned. “Check in with who?”
Bruce smiled slyly; “Oh, this guy... I think he's the Commissioner.”