Disclaimers: I do not own anything. This is not for profit, but merely for fun. Review if you wish.
A/N: I know. I know. Crazy of me to start another one when I haven't even finished my other two Batman/Dark Knight stories, but I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy!
Summary: "It's Okay" Those two words will always mean the world to both Bruce and Jim.
The station was filled with many policemen of all kinds from officers to detectives. There was a big commotion because one of the greatest tragedies that have ever been recorded had come to Gotham City. Most wanted to go out and be the hero – the one who found the killer whiles others didn't care and thought it was good riddance that those who had died are no more. But no matter the difference of opinion, Gotham was stirred beyond belief by latest crime.
The news anchors were lapping it all up. They reported on the life and times of the victims. Reporters stood behind the gates the victim's manor. People cried out for justice – some decided to strike – while others mourned in their homes. But most went on with life. The victims, after all, were only people they have known through the media.
But what could be agreed on is that Thomas and Martha Wayne were dead; murdered in front of their ten year old son's eyes. Their death had caused uproar. They were good people who worked constantly to improve the lives of the citizens of Gotham. Thomas Wayne was a highly respected doctor at one of Gotham's biggest free clinics hospitals and Martha Wayne was a well loved political activist. They were both good people blessed with looks and money, but more importantly, they were gifted with good hearts.
James Gordon was a rookie, and just like any rookie he was filled with the sense of idealism and fervor for his job. He had enlisted in the police force to help clean up the streets of Gotham, to fight crime, and to end the evils of the world. He believed in the cliché phrase of "making the world a better place." He was sure that with time - that could be done.
He heard about the deaths of Waynes and took it to his heart. He had seen Thomas Wayne take are of a lot of different policemen who didn't have the insurance that the government of Gotham had yet to give them. While Martha Wayne was a kind woman who despite her activism knew the politics had to live on. She protested against things she disagreed with the politicians with dignity and honor.
The police station was crowded with citizens and the officers roaming about with an air of hysteria. This was one of the biggest cases that has ever fallen onto the Gotham Police's hands. They were looked upon by the citizens of the city to find the murder of the Waynes. Every officer from the highest rank to the lowest were working on this case; giving it their all because they knew it had to be done. Some of them wanted to catch the killer for justice, and others wanted to be the hero of the city and gain favor from those who can bear kindly and expensive gifts.
But Gordon was of those who not only wanted justice for the family. He wanted justice for the whole community. Gotham had lost its greatest defenders. The world they knew was in tumultuous times. The peace that he and so many others longed for seemed but a distant hope.
As he walked through the station, his eyes spotted the Wayne's son, Bruce, sitting alone in Captain Mark's office. He frowned at seeing the little boy sitting alone clinging to a coat while facing the wall. The young Wayne looked so still and fragile. Yet there were visible shivers coming down his small body. Gordon felt immense sadness emanating from the boy. It was obvious why, of course. The boy just lost his parents.
Gordon couldn't believe that the child was inside that room alone. He didn't understand why no one has shed a tear for what had happened to the young boy. Why didn't anyone go in there to comfort him or at least to give him company? Didn't the others understand that Bruce Wayne had witnessed his parents be murdered? He knew that a child should never lose their parents least of all be entirely alone when their finally dead.
He couldn't help but wonder if the young boy had any other family left. Would some relative come and take care of the boy? Or were there no more relatives and the young Bruce was an orphan?
Fatherly instincts swept inside the heart, and all over Gordon's body. He couldn't bear seeing the boy alone. It wasn't right. It was wrong. It broke his heart. He didn't want the boy to be alone.
He went to the room, opened the door, and quickly entered. Closing the door, he inwardly cringed at the sense of sorrow he got from the young boy's aura. He stepped smoothly and quickly to the boy, and half knelt and squatted in front of him.
The boy didn't look at him. Instead, he kept his eyes on his lap; on the coat that was his father's. He was desperately clinging to it. Gordon could see the boy's chin quiver. He looked at the coat and asked as softly as he could, "Is this your father's coat?"
Young Bruce didn't answer. The boy just looked down and clutched the coat tighter as if he happened to let go then it would be out of his reach and lost forever. He shivered and then became still again as the room filled with a suffocating sense of utter despair.
But that was an answer in itself. And it made Gordon's heart break.
He tentatively reached for the coat; intending to help the young boy stop his shivers. But Bruce flinched, and clutched the coat even tighter. He realized that the boy was still frightened and obviously felt entirely alone. So, he put up an assuring smile though it still held sadness, and put his hand on the coat.
Bruce remained like stone, but Gordon could tell that his eyes were watching his hand's every move.
"It's okay…" he whispered as he made a firmer grip on the young boy's father's coat.
But Bruce was unresponsive. He didn't clutch the coat tighter, but he didn't let go either. Yet for some reason, Gordon saw some flash of recognition when he said that it would be okay. But he got nothing. Bruce just stared at Gordon's hand as if analyzing it and fearing it all at the same time.
Don't be afraid, Gordon thought to the boy. He lightly tugged at the coat, and said with his softest and kindest tone of voice, "Come here…"
Finally, Bruce loosened his grip on his father's coat. He tilted his head a bit, and watched the coat go into both of Gordon's hands.
Gordon smiled once more. It was that small smile of his which he knew would give little comfort. He wrapped the coat around the boy, and patted him on the shoulder.
"There you go." he whispered. His heart was reeling and reaching towards the young one. "It's okay…" He wished it would be so, but he didn't know how long it would be for Bruce to finally believe that it will all be okay.
Bruce looked up, and caught Gordon's gaze. They stared into each other's eyes; not once blinking.
There was such sadness in the boy's eyes. There was utter pain, devastation, and heartbreak in them too. And there was also loneliness in Bruce's hazel orbs. Gordon's heart broke once again. Those eyes pierced his soul, burned into his mind and tore the idealism right out of him. He was left just as broken as the young boy was, and yet he felt somehow more connected with young Bruce because of it.
"Gordon."
He turned at the sound of his name towards the voice of Commissioner Loeb. He stood up in attention at his superior; waiting for whatever he was going to be told to do, but wishing that he would leave so that he would continue comforting Bruce.
Loeb made a discreet glance at the door.
Gordon nodded, and walked to the door. He looked back at the boy he didn't want to leave. Bruce looked up at him and he saw a new emotion in the young one's eyes: longing. That longing with the fear, despair, devastation, and pain once again tore Gordon's soul and broke his heart.
It took all his strength to turn away from Bruce, and to close the door. But he was keen enough to hear what he had wanted to hear for quite some time this night.
"Hey…Good news…"
We got him.
And as he made his way through the crowd of officers and detectives and the like Gordon made a silent promise to himself that the young Bruce would not be alone, and that he would do everything in his power to help the boy realize that things will become okay someday.
…
Thirty-three years later…
James Gordon and Bruce Wayne were standing side by side at the place where memories would haunt, and old emotions would resurface. They were at Bruce's parent's graves. They were alone together with their coats clung to their bodies as they looked down at the Catholic headstone of Thomas Wayne, and the Presbyterian headstone of Martha Wayne.
They had been doing this together for quite some time ever since Bruce was just a little boy. They had grown close together – had been connected – ever since that night in the station. They were so attune to one another that no lie could be made without it being found out straight away.
They were like father and son – adoptive father and son in the truest of terms. Alfred was close to them as well – acting as father, brother, friend, and mother. He didn't come with them when they visited the dead parents' grave. No, instead he chose to wait in the car; watching with his own sad eyes.
But that didn't make him any less important to Bruce. It was just that he had his own time with the headstones of the Wayne parents with Bruce. Gordon never intruded on those moments – rather chose to sit in the car and wait just like the butler is doing now. The older man would wait, and watch; letting the two stood together looking down at Bruce's mother and father's graves.
"I miss them." Bruce said; eyes shut as he remembered his father's face, and his mother's eyes. "I miss them so much."
Gordon put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I know…" he said as he squeezed Bruce's shoulder softly. He knew very well how much Bruce missed his parents. "But you got me and Alfred…"
Bruce opened his eyes, glanced at Alfred, and then looked back at Gordon with a smile. He gave a slight nod, and looked down back at his parents' graves.
"I'll never repay you both for what you two have done…" Bruce said with so much meaning in his voice.
Gordon nodded. He watched as Bruce glanced at the nearby grave of Rachel Dawes.
The three never made any visits to Rachel's grave together. No, her grave was a grave to look at alone. Neither man trusted themselves to stay strong for the other if they were not alone visiting her grave.
"I miss her too…" Bruce whispered, but not with as much heartbreak and longing as the last time he glanced at her headstone.
He looked back at Gordon; his hazel eyes shining with unshed tears. He was smiling despite the memories of loss, because he knew about the promise of the future; the very future he, Bruce, and Alfred swore to be realized. He had a look of expectancy.
Gordon smiled at that expectancy, and said the words that kept Bruce going.
"It's okay…"
End-note: I hope you enjoy. Review if you would like to.