The Back Door
Jim Gordon looked up, at the sound of the door opening and jumped in his seat at seeing his visitor already sitting in the seat opposite him.
"Hello Commissioner," said Bruce Wayne in a surprisingly cheerful voice. He flashed that same grin that most women in Gotham would do anything for – some men too perhaps, Jim thought vaguely, still distracted by the fact someone else was going to get into his office unannounced. He should get a bell on those doors…
"What brings you here?" Jim asked, bringing a hand up to his temple, rubbing it. "I didn't get a memo – sorry, been a bit busy…" He gestured vaguely and Bruce nodded benignly.
"Just a check in of sorts," said Bruce shrugging. "Best interests at hand and all…I mean, what's Gotham without a strong police department?" Jim inwardly groaned – it was all that he heard these days, even with the Joker locked up and Harvey dead…and Jim had to restrain himself from wincing at that thought. Had to keep his guard up…
"Of course, Mr. Wayne," said Jim. "Things are just fine – I'm sure you have elsewhere to be, things to do…"
"I also wanted to offer my condolences," interrupted Bruce, tone more serious and grin falling.
This time, Jim did wince.
"Thank you," he said, clearing his throat. "But as much as it's appreciated – our divorce is going just fine. My son's staying with my mother while things settle between-" A slight gulp – he'd mostly successfully not thought about his wife, ex-wife rather, in the week since it had been finalized. "Between his mother and I."
"I'm glad you're taking it so well," said Bruce, crossing his arms and leaning back. He kicked one fashionably clad leg over the other. "Wouldn't want a…distracted, Commissioner after all." There was a glint in his eyes, that Jim couldn't quite read, and wasn't sure if he wanted to understand. Like other things… Jim fumbled for something to say. "Well, we wouldn't want the head of Wayne Enterprises distracted as well – it pretty much runs the entire industrial side of Gotham now, doesn't it? You seem to have recovered since Rachel's death."
And there it was – the wrong thing to say, the wrong time, and a flash back to earlier things when the wrong thing occurred. An image sprang to mind, mirroring the look on Bruce's face all those years ago, when Bruce looked up at him with such dark eyes after seeing too much – the death of his parents, and the girl he loved? Jim had come so close to losing those closest…and ended up losing his wife to the arms of another man, safer and off where insanity didn't stalk the streets. At least Jim knew she was safe, as was his son…
"I'm fine," said Bruce, voice more hoarse. "Getting over it – and other things. The past months have been hard on us all…" He rubbed at his head, sighing. "In more ways then one."
There was a pointed look which Jim could not interpret.
"I'm, um, sorry," said Jim, clearing his throat. "I should have known better then to reopen those wounds…"
"For you to be just like everyone else, avoiding the subject as if she never existed?" snapped Bruce. He slammed a fist on the table, and Jim's abandoned coffee cup shook. Both stared in a silent stupor at the liquid inside the cup as the mixture trembled and caused ripples to spread.
Bruce sighed, once again rubbing at his head. "I can't stand it," he said softly, so softly, Jim found it his duty to lean forward in order to listen more closely – as well as the desire to help…but more duty of course. Duty called…
"They all knew she was here – my best friend, the assistant DA," said Bruce, voice hollow. "Harvey's girlfriend – Christ, why won't anyone even talk about it?" He scoffed. "Are they still so busy with their precious hunting for Batman that they can't even mourn? Rachel wasn't the only one who he killed, Jim."
Bruce's eyes had been trained on his shoe, resting on his leg, but at the usage of Jim's first name he looked up and made eye contact with him. And the plummeting feeling in Jim's stomach – that despair, that almost hopelessness that overrode him these days, and never was buried under his supposed 'investigations' and work.
Jim rose from his chair, and almost like a magnetic feel was enacted between them, Bruce rose as well and soon both were standing there, silently crying on each other's shoulders. Their arms slung about each other, as shaking sobs racked through them – Jim didn't know if it was for who exactly – all of Gotham – for Rachel – for Harvey – his wife for leaving him – or even for Mr. and Mrs. Wayne who died all those years ago, and Gotham starting to fall apart then (or had it started before).
But soon the tears slowed, and though time had been nonexistent as they welcomed the comfort of each other, there was a contented silence that remained between them. Jim became more aware of the way their bodies contoured against each other – there were rumors of Bruce's daredevil escapades, and he couldn't help but notice that Bruce's chest was hard beneath his clean smelling suit – and the way Bruce's hand seemed to be in his hair – his wife )ex-wife) had never done that, so strange so different, but somehow nice….why was he comparing Bruce to her?
Jim at last was the one to push them apart, and despite his best efforts, barely moving a foot or so apart. The weight on his shoulders had become lighter – even though Bruce's arms still rested on his shoulders, his stomach thudded heavily, and the police department was still after Gotham's true hero…but sometimes, Jim thought vaguely as he remained somewhat frozen in their position
He coughed; ignoring their position and raising a hand to run adjust his glasses. "We can uh, just keep this between ourselves – wouldn't want to interfere with the press and all your rampant tagalongs, knowing your 'manly exterior's' fallen." A thought rang through his mind, one that couldn't be subdued as he inwardly winced. Why exactly did my voice start shaking?
Bruce breathed heavily, arms still around his shoulders and eyebrow cocked. "If that's what you really want – I didn't just come here though to erupt in tears, surprising as it may be."
"What?" coughed Jim again. Like an eraser, Bruce's solemn exterior was fading to a carefree state – or was it the other way around, this being an exterior
"It's taken me awhile to realize things, and what exactly has been bothering me," explained Bruce earnestly. Was it just Jim overacting or were Bruce's hands closing together around his neck. "Rachel was a friend, something I should have realized years later rather than other people…" He trailed off, but it was enough for Jim to barely grasp the meaning and stare silently.
Bruce must have taken that as an answer.
It happened all of a sudden, but there it was – Bruce's lips were reaching down to his, and of his own accord, Jim found his tongue reaching out to meet Bruce's. Jim didn't have time to think about the consequences before they were groping like the teenagers they weren't, as stumbling towards the door behind him.
The kiss broke and their breathing was ragged – Jim couldn't take his eyes off of Bruce's, even as his mind finally did catch up to the feeling in his chest and down below. A mantra ran through his mind – this isn't right – I'm married – no, I'm divorced – I'm old enough to be his father – this isn't right – Oh, ah …
But Bruce just raised an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to go against exactly what he was thinking, like the mind-reader Bruce wasn't. Then Jim pulled his head forward, and kissed him – there was time for thinking later, later when this burning feeling ended.
A/N: I have mixed feelings on this piece, but it was an experiment (and a challenge!) Despite being a bit confused at the pairing at first, I think I seriously ship Jim and Bruce now...the entire time I watched Dark Knight, I was actually focussing on their interaction rather than other things.
Anyway, feedback would be extremely appreciated - I wrote this for Twelve_knights on livejournal for gaudy_night!