This is an idea I had in mind since the first time I saw The Dark Knight Rises: what were Gordon's thoughts at the end of TDKR? So, I tried to imagine and express them in this fic... I don't know if I got Gordon's personality right, but I really like this character.
Hope you enjoy it! ;)
Commissioner Jim Gordon had always been a man of few words. Quiet, reserved. He had always had his strong moral code. He never broke that. With a job like his, in a city like Gotham, a strong morality was the only thing that kept Gordon away from corruption and insanity. Yes, it caused him several problems during the years, but he survived. He cared about his city and loved his job, even if it stressed him. Even if it costed him his wife. After years of experience, it wasn't likely that he got surprised by something. Not anymore. Gotham had always been an unkind city. It had always had high criminality, corruption and... an unforgiving climate. Maybe it was the climate that affected people's mood, Jim thought with sarcasm.
He had witnessed the city's unstoppable decay. He remembered what people said years ago: Gotham was lost to crime and corruption, Gotham is rotten, Gotham is beyond saving… And everything seemed to precipitate after the Wayne's' Murder, as the press named that event. He remembered how the city was before him. Corruption was everywhere. The city was entirely in the mob's hands, led by Carmine Falcone, who filled the streets with drug and hired thugs, who paid half of the city and blackmailed the other half. The mob had been the great plague of Gotham. It infiltrated at every level of the society, it was extremely adaptable. It offered money or favors (or blackmailed and killed those who stood against it) and recruited all kinds of people, from the rich, blinded by power, to the desperate people. Mob lived on human's greed, cowardly, selfishness, desperation and fear. That's why it was so difficult to fight.
And then, when Gotham seemed lost to the mob, Batman showed up. He demonstrated that the city could be saved if someone stood against crime. He found in Gordon a precious ally, Jim knew that. And he knew that without Batman, now he could be dead. He wouldn't have survived Gotham's crime. Especially not with villains such as the Joker. Gordon didn't know what was worst, the mob or the villains. The mob had a certain line of operation, it had rules, it was somehow predictable (not very much though) but it was very rooted in the city.
The problem with people like the Joker, or even Two Face and the others… was their twisted morality. Each one of them had a different moral code that had the power to make someone question his own morality. Their words, their explanation were sometimes so… true, yet anyone could see the madness behind them. Many times Gordon had found himself agreeing with them, as if in trance, only to snap out of it, realizing how deceiving and distorted their words were. They liked to play with someone's mind, enjoyed seeing someone struggle to maintain their morality whole, enjoyed pushing someone to the edge, they wanted to drag him to their level only to see him destroyed. And again, Batman stood against them. What would have Gotham done with the Joker hadn't Batman been there… Jim couldn't not think about it. Many had questioned Batman's role in the "creation" of this kind of villains. But Gordon knew better. He knew that these villains would have existed anyways, Batman or not, because they were just a product of human's evil. And even Batman was its product, in a way.
He sighed and rubbed his temples. He had stared at the white paper for some time now, his mind lost in memories and thoughts. He was sat at his desk at home. On it just the white papers, a pen, his cup of black coffee and his glasses. And his notebook, the one who accompanied him during the years of collaboration with Batman. In here he had collected all his thoughts and impressions about the vigilante, about the cases they faced together. Everything was there, in that notebook.
I guess I owe you this, my friend. He had never thought he would ever write a letter to Batman. He had never been a man of many words. Neither Batman had been. But both had something else in common: they were good listeners. And they never judged each other. They simply understood.
Dear friend,
I guess I can call you that now. I don't know if you will ever read this letter but I feel the need to say…things that can't tell anyone else. I guess that after all these years we've worked together, you know me better than everyone else. And I feel that I know you now, though I think I could never understand you completely; I don't want to pretend to, because that would be a lie. And we've always been honest to each other. But I can say that I've understood you better than others.
I remember the first time I actually met you, it feels like yesterday, and I can't imagine how it must feel to you. I didn't say much to you, didn't I? I just put a coat around your shoulders and it seems that you carried this memory with yourself for years. I remember when you first disappeared. It was right after the murder of Joe Chill. In those years I talked a lot with Mr. Pennyworth. I must be honest, I was worried about you, but neither I nor Alfred ever believed you dead. Instead we hoped that you left Gotham for good and maybe started a family of your own. Those years… those years were hard for everyone, I guess. Gotham was dying from the inside and with you gone, there wasn't much hope. Everyone in Gotham had looked up to your name; they hoped that you would, I don't know, emulate your parent's deeds… No one else had the guts to stand against Gotham's decay. No one wanted to get his hands dirty.
In a way, Gotham's redemption started when you came back from the death. The first time we met, you scared the hell out of me, you know? And I felt ashamed of myself for having being scared by a simple stapler on my neck. During your first appearances I had lots of different thoughts on my mind, and certainly I won't writing them here, I doubt you care anyway. But for the first time after years, I felt hope again. Well the kind of hope that suits a Gotham's police commissioner. I started to trust you. Even if you had that bad habit of sneaking upon people or disappearing without warning. It was creepy, but it was better that way. And you trusted me blindly from the first moment. Of course, I know that you did all the researches about me before you even talked to me, but this reassured me. Everything seemed to go fine.
For a while. Then came the Joker, with his guns, his bombs, his anarchy. Then came Harvey Dent and his black - and – white vision of the world. I remember that interrogation with the Joker. I had nightmares for months. It scared me more than what I like to admit. At first he seemed just a psychotic murder who wanted attention. But there, in that room I realized that he wasn't crazy. He knew what he was saying, he knew exactly what he was doing, he had a goal, and he made it clear from the first moment. His methods were…well, nonexistent and that was scaring. As was his 'morality'. And what terrified me the most was that he managed to put you on the edge. For some moments I was afraid of what you would have done.
Hell, he put all of us to the edge, me, you and Harvey. He took away from us so much…I don't think the scars will ever go away. It was maybe in that moment, when Harvey died, that I realized how much Gotham really had needed you. Gotham citizens needed you even though they believed to need Harvey as their knight. I know that lie was necessary, but it ate me from the inside. I felt so dirty for a long time, I still do. And now, knowing the truth, I saw how it ate you too. For the years that followed, before Bane, I kept thinking about your sacrifice. How you decided to sacrifice everything you built in order to restore a man's reputation, to avoid my implication in the case and save Gotham from its madness. You were the one who could disappear, the one who could bear such a weight alone.
Still, it wasn't fair. Eight years of silence, eight years of lies, eight years of emptiness, remorse, guilt. Loneliness. I guess it was the same for you, or even worse.
I must admit, in those years the crime was really low. Maybe too much, seeing how things went afterwards. And again, the history was repeating itself. Gotham was in serious danger and needed a knight. When I first saw Bane and his underground army… one side of me really hoped that Batman would come back. And the other side, well it hoped that this time Gotham would have been lost, so that it all ended. But I guess I love this city, even if it has taken away from me many things… but heck, after all it costed me, us, like hell I would let someone take over and destroy Gotham!
Bane's occupation was a hard period. All the truth about Harvey came to light and I had to face it. You reappeared in the streets and for a moment everything seemed like the old times. Except that Bane wasn't the mob, neither a random thug. I spent some time in a hospital, following the news on the tv, and only later, after your revelation, detective Blake told me some details about those months. But I'm sure that only you know the entire truth. I remember that day, when the war began. As it ended…for the first time after years, I saw the people of Gotham happy. They celebrated for weeks. And then I understood; I guess I always knew it deep inside, but I never truly believed it: Gotham wasn't beyond saving; there was so much worth to fight for, even if it was a grimmer city than others.
The city dedicated you a statue. I don't know who did it, but whoever it was, he captured something in it. Maybe the stance, maybe the frown. You know, sometimes I stay there, in front of it, and let my mind wanders; I imagine what would you say when I tell you the development of a new case, the looks you would give me. And sometimes… sometimes I don't want to look away from it, because I fear that if I turn it will vanish, as you did all those times on the rooftops. It's foolish, I know, but old habits die hard.
Your donation for the orphans…it's a good thing, the children are happy. After your…death, detective Blake resigned. He couldn't stand the injustice, he said. I guess he had been really disappointed during Bane's regime. I can't blame him. He's an honest man and aspires at something… greater than being a cop. It was a shame to lose such a person in the unit, but I feel that he will find another way to fight for what he stands. As I suspect that someday in the near future Gotham will need Batman again, since changes have been made to some illumination system. Quite every night I'm on MCU's rooftop, reading one of our old cases .It's the best place to think.
I guess I can't let the past go. Sometimes I still can believe it, you know? I mean, that it happened at all, to me. But after all, I'm not surprised by your revelation. Looking back it all clicked perfectly. I…as I said before, I don't want to pretend to understand what drove you, what emotions you felt after that dreadful night that led you to… But your eyes that night, I guess I will always remember them. I saw… I saw in them so much emotions that I…I can't express them with words.
Ah, forget what I've just said, it's just the babbling of a tired man. I'm aware of the fact that from that moment you looked up on me as your "hero", I won't deny it with false modesty. I'm just… happy that I inspired a good man.
Because that's the only thing I know for sure: you're a good, caring man, despite however you may consider yourself. Your actions prove it. And your parents would be truly proud of you.
You're one of the few good men I've ever known, so wherever you are, take care and rest, my friend. You deserved it.
J.G.
Jim settled down the pen. The cup of black coffee was now cold. He sighed heavily and looked again at the letter he had just written, at his notebook. A small smile formed on his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. He was too tired.
Take care and rest now that you can, my friend.
He put on his glasses and glanced at the clock on the wall; it was almost midnight. He folded the paper and rose from the chair, heading to his bedroom. Tomorrow he would decide what to do with the letter. For now he just wanted to sleep, to rest.