Disclaimer: I own none of these characters
Summary: "Bring her back, Batman," Gordon said, staring at the Dark Knight, "Bring my girl back." Takes place nine years after the tenth episode, "Lovecraft," Gordon has finally moved up in the world, Batman has recently appeared in Gotham, and Gordon is waiting for news of a family member running around on the dangerous streets of Gotham.
Just find her:
Jim Gordon, now at the age of forty-one, with a bushy brown mustache over his face gripped the desk he sat behind as he stared up at the towering hero of Gotham. "Bring her back, Batman," He said intensely to the Dark Knight, "Bring my girl back."
"I'll look for her." Was the low, rough reply and the large muscle bound bat eared enigma that had started showing up around Gotham a year ago swept away out the window. Gordon groaned, slapping his face into the palms of his hands, elbows on the desk. He didn't know how to face Barbara right now. She was taking care of their younger daughter, that he had insisted on naming after her mother. Little Barbara was only four years old and had no idea how terrible the world was yet. All she knew was that her daddy and big sister weren't home right now.
Gordon stood up, staring out the window, wondering where his older daughter was. The young cat like woman had always gone where she pleased. Even after he and Barbara had taken her in a year after the Wayne murders. At the age of fourteen the young girl had come and gone as she wished and resented the cage she lived in. But that resentment had only lasted for so long. She'd still run off….like she did tonight, but she didn't see him and Barbara as her captors anymore. Whether that was because she could easily escape them at any time or because she genuinely cared about them, it was hard for Gordon to tell. The word genuine and Selina Kyle hardly ever appeared in the same sentence.
There was a harsh ring from the phone on Gordon's desk and the startled commissioner turned, swooping down and picking it up to his ear, already sure of who it was.
"Hello?" He asked, counting on it being his wife.
He was right. "Jim?" Barbara's voice streamed from the receiver, "Jim, have you seen her? Is she alright?" Gordon flinched. He forced his voice to sound calm, the opposite of how he felt, "It's okay, Barbara. It'll be okay. We have help. Batman's looking for her."
He heard an intake of breath and wondered how his wife would mull that piece of information over in her head. He knew she didn't trust Batman as much as he did. Her voice was strained now, "Okay." She got out, "Barbara…..she's asking where her big sister Selina is. Why did she run off again, Jim? I thought she stopped running away. She…she was adjusting!" Gordon sighed painfully. What was adjusting? You'd think eight or nine years with him and Barbara might encourage Selina to have a "normal" life but Selina wasn't really a normal young woman. She loved the thrill of the streets, of the chase, of thieving. Even of getting caught; it was all for the thrill. Gordon knew that if she didn't love him, Barbara and her little sister more than the thrill, then she'd happily go back to living on the streets, being proud of herself as a thief.
Though Gordon couldn't really blame Barbara for her outburst. He thought Selina was used to this by now. He thought she had stopped being scared off at the idea of having a family a few years ago, after she had stopped running off (or at least when he thought she had stopped running off, but maybe she ran off at times that he wasn't aware of).
Selina was an adult now though. She was twenty-two. Legally as long as she didn't commit any crime she could go wherever she wanted. And given she was the adopted child of the current commissioner, she could get away with way more than that. Then, that was a normal thing for Gotham, wasn't it? People committing crimes and getting away with it because they were the ones with the power and wealth?
"We'll find her," He promised dutifully, "She knows how to survive on the streets. We have every agent out looking for her. We'll find her." By this point, he didn't know who he was trying to reassure.
"I understand." Barbara said, voice exposing bitterness and fear, "Jim…just, just find her. Just…..bri….just find her."
As his distressed wife said her goodbye, hanging up, Gordon hung up and looked out the window, knowing what his wife had been going to say before her voice trailed off. Just bring my baby back. Selina was not Barbara's by blood, but she was Barbara's child anyway, whether the young cat burglar admitted it or not. Maybe she was an adult, but go ahead and tell a mother that she shouldn't fear for her child's safety in Gotham of all places. Where was she? There was a powerful knock at the door and Gordon, sure of who was at the door, as sure as he was of who had been calling him turned, unsurprised when Bullock came in without being invited.
"Hey, Jim," Bullock grunted, grinning, "You feeling okay?"
Gordon tried not to scowl. Bullock was as tactless as ever. He wondered where that name "Bullock" came from. Whoever first came up with the last name knew what he was talking about. Tactless. "What the hell do you think?" He snapped at his former partner.
The large, greying, bearded, now overweight agent still grinned, holding his head up haughtily, "Don't worry about it Gordon. Your brat knows how to take care of herself." Gordon said nothing. He knew Bullock's words were supposed to be calming, but it was the opposite. He knew Bullock had always opposed him and Barbara taking Selina in, but he knew at least that his former partner would try not to use force with his adopted daughter. Actually, he was more concerned with what she might do to Bullock. Bullock shrugged, "And you know….she's an adult now, so she can technically do whatever she wants. And don't tell me you'd put her away for something like theft and pickpocketing?"
Gordon groaned. That was one of the problems here, wasn't it? Legally, he really couldn't do anything. Sure, he pretended that he didn't know Selina still pickpocketed whenever she got the chance. He didn't see her do it, and she certainly didn't need to do it, given she had a home where she could get plenty of food, but a thrill was a thrill, and he knew she still did it. He just would never do anything about it. However, the nagging words that "she's an adult" grinded on him and he glowered at his old partner.
"Hey," Bullock added, offering another shrug, sounding a little more accommodating, "Some good came out of tonight, right? I mean, Nygma's behind bars."
Gordon chortled, grimacing. He should feel guilt, immeasurable guilt for Nygma, but he didn't. He just didn't. He had enough to worry about with the city, a new strange Dark Knight who's identity he claimed he didn't know (he had his suspicions though) his family, including his often disappearing adopted daughter, and his affiliation with the newest head power in the city, The Penguin, formerly known as Oswald Cobblepot. He didn't need guilt gnawing at him about Nygma.
Yes, maybe he should have done more to make sure Nygma hadn't crossed over lines that he could never come back from, maybe he should have paid more attention to the troubled and socially awkward intellectual, yes, maybe he should have told Bullock not to pick on Nygma as much, but right now he just didn't have the energy to feel guilt for the man currently calling himself The Riddler. He was referred to as one of the "few good men in Gotham." If that was all he was then it could be excused. He was a good man, not Buddha.
Then there was the matter of some odd murders appearing around Gotham, all of the bodies accompanied by a "joker" card from a playing deck. Gordon knew the streets of Gotham had always been dangerous and corrupt, but it felt like it was becoming more and more chaotic as even more of these freaks kept popping up out of nowhere and no matter how tough she was, he didn't want his adopted daughter out there.
Gordon stared at Bullock, remembering when once, long ago, they were both officers. Once, long ago he had been in the same position Bullock was still in. He sometimes wondered if Bullock ever got envious of his position in power. Gordon could affirm one thing to himself at that very second. Bullock probably didn't envy his position (he once said, "who the hell would want that responsibility?") but he certainly envied Bullock. Once, long ago, he had been a street cop like Bullock and back then he could have chased after Selina himself, not wait in safety to hear back from others where she was.
Gordon clenched his teeth together behind his mustached mouth. He should be out there now, tracking her down, grabbing her and dragging her back to his and Barbara's apartment, ignoring all her snide remarks and hurtful comments, and empty threats of "scratching his eyes out if he didn't let her go," bring her back to her mother and baby sister, but he knew he couldn't.
Jim felt his wife's words come out angrily as he turned away, "Just find her, Bullock."
There was a silence before Bullock finally responded, "Look, Jim, you were good at breaking rules before. At least now that you're behind that desk, yah won't have to worry about bullets flying at you." Gordon stiffened at those words. When he heard the door close behind him, Gordon reached down and picked up the framed picture of himself, Barbara, and their girls sitting together on the couch, a little one-year-old Barbara on Selina's lap as the formerly homeless young at the time, nineteen-year old woman smirked at the camera, sitting between Jim and Barbara with their "third child" Tiger sprawled on Barbara's lap, orange furry stomach the main sight of him in the photo, head obscured by the fluff and his striped paws. He groaned sadly, slowly lowering the picture back down to the desk.
Gordon knew he and Barbara, and maybe Bruce Wayne too only had themselves to blame. He remembered Fish Mooney's warnings about Selina years ago.
"Feral cats don't make for good pets, Gordon. A truly wild animal can't be tamed." Oh yes, maybe Fish had been a ruthless crime lord, heartless monster (which made him wonder if he really felt any sympathy at all after Cobblepot had killed her), and a liar, but she knew what she was talking about. She had warned him when she first learned of him taking in Selina. She had known. Still, even knowing that feral cats couldn't be tamed, not really, he didn't regret taking her in, not for a second. And he knew his wife didn't either. Staring at the smiling face of his adopted child, he nodded, a new wave of determination surging through him. What the hell? Bullock was right about one thing. He had broken the rules more than once when he was an officer; he sure as hell could now. Now he had a better chance of getting away with it. He looked at the picture one last time before reaching into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out the gun that he hadn't needed to use in years, relying on the strength of the officers working under him, the gun that had been used against him to frame him for Lovecraft's murder and landed him in Arkham.
He secured his firearm at his belt and circled out from around his desk, heading for the door. Opening it, he called after his former partner, "Bullock! Hold it!" He bolted down the hall. Hell with the rules. He had forgone them when he was an officer of the law, he was going to do it again. He was going to get his daughter and bring her back.