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Sunday Afternoon
Chapter Seven
written by destinyawakened
“If you're going to kill me, just do it” Gordon said. Doctor Thomas Elliot stood in front of Gordon, one gun fixed on him, free hand casually in his pocket. His glare was deadly, crazed and frightening. Gordon wasn't sure he wanted to know what his part was in the doctor's grand scheme, but he had an idea. After all, he was tied to a chair surrounded by hundreds of barrels of gasoline. He had a pretty good notion as to the role he was about to play in the breaking of Bruce Wayne. And Gordon suddenly wished he'd forced Batman to stay behind and let the police take care of the Joker.
Doctor Elliot laughed, “ I could, but that would take all the fun out of my plan. And the Joker assures me explosives are much more exciting.”
“Batman won't fall for your trap.” Gordon narrowed his eyes at the man, honestly hoping that Bruce wouldn't fall for the trap; but he had too good a heart to ignore the situation. Gordon was sure Elliot left him enough clues to find the warehouse just in time to see it blown up with him inside. He could imagine the breaking point for Bruce and knew the criminals would be the ones that got the brunt of his emotions.
“I doubt that. Tell me Commissioner, how well do you function when you haven't slept in more than three days?”
Gordon opened his mouth to talk but found he had a lump in his throat, the result of being nervous, anxious and worried. Bruce wouldn't be thinking straight and wouldn't see the trap for what it was. He would only be thinking of saving Gordon and not the possible outcome. But what would be the outcome? If Gordon was killed, yes it would break Bruce, but he would still be alive. There was more to Elliot's plan than he was letting on.
“What's the average response time for Gotham City Police?” Doctor Elliot asked as he pulled out his cellphone from his pocket and flipped it open. Gordon was silent and Elliot laughed. “I didn't think you'd actually tell me. I'll call them right before I leave.” He flipped the phone shut again.
“What would be the point?” Gordon wasn't sure he understood.
“You aren't going to be around long enough to care, anyway.” Doctor Elliot turned the timer on the barrel, and picked it up. “I know the clock says we have a little less than two hours, but I think I'm going to change that.” He started to punch at the buttons on it, glancing at Gordon as he did. “Two hours is far too much time for Batman to find and save you. That won't do at all.” He set the clock back down. Ten minutes flashed and then started to count down all over again.
Gordon frantically started to pull at the ropes holding his hands behind his back. Elliot had tied one hell of a knot. Gordon knew there was something he could say to the other man, but his thoughts were engaged elsewhere, and he didn't quite feel like having witty banter with a man who was about to blow him to smithereens. That would be a waste of time rather than a helpful distraction. Elliot was laughing and shaking his head.
“You can keep trying, Commissioner, but I doubt you're going to get through those ropes in time to get out of here.” Elliot smiled mockingly and placed a control down on a barrel not far from Gordon. It was the detonator switch. “If you do happen to get out --then I've obviously failed-- you can switch the explosive off. Nine minutes, Jim.”
The sound of the doctor's shoes clicked softly against the pavement of the warehouse floor as he walked past Gordon, out of his eye sight. The creak of door hinges and the small clang of steel meeting steel told Gordon that the man had left. He didn't have a lot of time, and he knew he needed to keep his thoughts focused on getting out of this alive, but he couldn't help thinking that he was letting his kids down. Letting Bruce down. Letting Gotham down. Letting himself down. No, no... he had to stop the nonsense and focus. Focus. If you dislocated your thumb...
But he didn't need to think about that much longer. He heard the shattering of glass above him and turned his head to the side as small shards flew in his direction. There was a light thud that followed. Gordon turned his head back to see a dark figure, but without his glasses it was blurry. Not that he needed to see to know it was Batman; who else would crash through a glass roof so nonchalantly? Gordon motioned for the detonator switch and Batman limped over, grabbing it. He looked at Gordon as he pushed the off button. A little too easy for Gordon's taste. But nothing blew up; no alarms went off.
Gordon looked at Batman and shrugged his arms, silently asking him to get him out of the ropes. Batman smirked, and Gordon halfway knew what he was thinking. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking about such endeavors. But Gordon found that Batman stopped just short of coming closer as the sounds of helicopters flying over the top of the warehouse could be heard, their searchlights blaring down through the broken glass roof. Gordon searched Batman's face for a sign that he was going to flee. But then he noticed the tired glare, the slow sway of the other man's body from exhaustion, and trail of blood seeping down the side of Batman's armor. Gordon had almost forgotten about the fight Batman had been having with the Joker before he blacked out.
A squad of SWAT officers had jumped down through the hole Batman had made just minutes before. Another group of SWAT entered through the back entrance and then another through the front. Gordon gave Batman a look of sincere apology and regret. He knew in normal circumstances Batman would have easily taken care of the SWAT team without faltering; but nothing was normal about this situation. Batman –Bruce-- was on the verge of collapsing and needed medical attention. Gordon pleaded silently with his eyes for Bruce to some how get out of there. But Bruce shook his head just slightly and closed his eyes. He knew it was over. He had been run-down and had nothing else up his cape. He had let his guard down and slipped up.
“PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND DROP TO YOUR KNEES!” yelled one SWAT officer who was moving slowly towards Gordon and Batman.
Bruce put his hands on his head and dropped down to his knees in front of Gordon, opening his eyes again to look at him. His eyes were weary and bloodshot filled but with such passion that Gordon felt his heart skip. He wanted to reach out to the other man and hold him close and tell him it was all going to be over soon – even if it was a lie, wouldn't have mattered this time. Bruce, deep down, was still that little boy from so many years ago, looking for comfort, acceptance and a reason. And this time, Gordon couldn't help him. He opened his mouth to say something but Batman shook his head.
“Gotham needs you,” he whispered hoarsely. The SWAT officer had come up behind him, taking his hands and cuffing them behind his back. Gordon saw Batman's body give out in exhaustion, and he fell face first to the pavement. Two more SWAT members joined the first and attempted to pull the vigilante to his feet.
Someone came up behind Gordon and started to cut away at the ropes binding his hands together. “Lucky we found you when we did.” The voice belonged to Stephens. He cut away the last of the rope, and then bent to start with his ankles. “Checked into Doctor Elliot while I was at Arkham. He checks out everywhere except with his housekeeper. I guess he paid her off to keep her mouth shut. Apparently it wasn't quite enough.”
Gordon rubbed his wrists, half listening to Stephens. His attention was focused mostly on Batman, who was being dragged out of the building. Gordon kicked the ropes off his ankles and stood. “HEY!” He yelled at the SWAT officers. “He goes to MCU!”
“I didn't think the Batman worked with the likes of Hush,” said Stephens, standing from his place on the floor and looking Gordon over with a watchful eye.
Gordon shook his head, wanting to say that Batman doesn't and wouldn't do that, but he kept his comment to himself. “Hush?” he asked instead.
“Yeah. It's the name Doctor Elliot adopted for himself. Joker was all too happy to spill the beans on that one..” Stephens rolled his eyes. “You okay, Jim?”
Gordon looked at the detective and smiled just a little; Stephens never called him by his first name unless there was reason to be worried. “I'll be fine.”
Stephens nodded, a small frown forming at his mouth. “It was only a matter of time, you know.” Gordon was a bit surprised to hear the words sound sincere, as if Stephens somehow knew that he had been working with Batman all along.
“I know,” he said, and then whispered again, “I know.”
------
Gordon sat on the cold, metal bench in the back of the SWAT van, hands folded in his lap, staring at the Batman sitting across from him. He had convinced the SWAT leader to let him ride in the back, by himself. After all, what good was being Commissioner if he couldn't use it to his advantage now and then?
Batman hadn't said anything. His head was propped up against the back of the van wall, barely sitting up straight. Gordon could tell he was on the verge of passing out. He quickly snapped the privacy window shut, not wanting the crew in the front of the van to see or hear them. He carefully stumbled over to the other side of the van and sat down next to the vigilante. He took out the cuff key and removed the cuffs. He then took the other man's right hand and stripped the Kevlar glove off and then did the same with the left, placing them on the seat beside him. He looked at the bare hands for a moment and then twined their fingers together.
Silence grew between them, but Gordon found he didn't mind; he'd rather not be reminded right now that the world outside was about to fall apart around them. The city he had loved for so long would soon tear apart her own child --Gotham's Prince. No one would see it coming, but everyone would want justice for the people who died a year ago. It would only be fair --fair to everyone but Bruce. Gordon knew they would stick him in Arkham, as only a crazy man would run around in a bat costume. No, no... don't think about that now, just stay in the moment. For Bruce. He squeezed the other man's hand, receiving a weak squeeze in return.
“Jim...” A soft whisper with a hint of hoarseness escaped Batman's mouth. Gordon turned his head to look at him. Their eyes met for a moment that felt like a life time; everything felt slow and blurry around them. It was then that Gordon knew he had fallen for the man harder than he cared to admit. He admired his courage, the fierceness in his eyes, the deep brown color of his hair, the way a suit looked on him, his rough growl, and even that stupid smug grin. And what horrible timing to have such a revelation, he thought.
He moved closer to Batman, cupping the right side of his face with his left hand. He leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, relishing the small moan that escaped the man's throat. He kissed Batman a little harder, tugging at the cut on his lower lip and pulling it into his mouth. Gordon slid his tongue into Batman's mouth for only a moment and then pulled away. Batman was gazing at Gordon, his eyes soft, sad, and lost.
“What happens now?” It was not the growl Gordon always expected from Batman; it was a whisper that sounded strained and small.
“I think you have two choices: turn yourself in and risk prison or time spent at Arkham, or we attempt to clear Batman's name before they even start to think about de-masking you.”
Batman was silent again and his grip in Gordon's other hand had slackened. Batman's eyes were half closed. “I'm not sure clearing my name is going to go over well. We still lied to the entire city. I planned on turning myself in once. I think it's time I do what has to be done.”
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