Hello again, all. This here is the sequel to Home is where the thrill lies, so if you haven't read it, go find it on my profile ;D It won't make much sense without it.

Disclaimer: I do not own TDK, any of the songs/cultural references I may add in later, or anything really...just the story

This is gonna be a longer sort of story (at least, longer than my last one), so please review, and keep in touch!

Oh, and this first chapter is going to be terribly slow, and probably more than a little boring, very sorry, but it's necessary. The next chapter will be better, I promise. It picks up after Harvey gets hospitalized, around the time where the Joker would have escaped the prison in the real movie timeline. Gordon's conversation with Dent (as alluding to in the beginning of the chapter) is the same as the movie.

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Chapter I: To Blame

The Mayor's office, in Gordon's opinion, was in just about the stupidest location ever. Being a corner office, it had windows covering the entirety of two whole walls, leaving the entire space, and the people inside, ridiculously susceptible to sniper fire. Not that the Mayor ever listened when Gordon put forwards well-intentioned advice that could one day save his life.

"I understand sir," Gordon said, nodding quickly. The conversation they'd just shared had been short and...well, certainly not sweet. To put it simply, the Mayor was pretty pissed, and with Harvey Dent put out of commission, it was understandable. The Mayor looked over at him with those unnervingly makeup covered eyes, and Gordon tried his best not to snicker. To be honest, Gordon wondered if the man had any self-respect.

"Good," was the Mayor's only reply, before he waved his hand, a clear dismissal. Gordon nodded once more before turning on his heel and booking it out of the Mayor's office. Although the Mayor was tolerable, Gordon personally didn't like him much. However, he was most thankful for the job the man had given him, so he sucked it up.

Sighing as soon as he got out the door, Gordon ran a worried hand through his hair; it was a habit he'd picked up, along with smoking. Stress seemed to work up into his veins when he wasn't watching, and it had odd ways of manifesting itself, especially physically.

"What'd the Mayor want, Commissioner?" Gordon started a little, before he recognized one of his cops, O'Sullivan. A sturdy man of Irish origins, his voice was still very much slurred with a thick lilting accent. Gordon shrugged in response to the man, before starting to walk again.

"He wants me to pay a visit to Mr. Dent," he called behind his back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Alfred..."

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

Bruce Wayne was slouched down in a chair, his hair tousled over his forehead untidily. When he looked up at his manservant, Alfred almost took a step back. That look...that look wasn't Wayne. It wasn't the sort of look the younger Bruce would have ever had on his face; the eyes looked hollow, pained. It hurt the Englishman to even look at the man who'd been put in his care so long ago.

"Did I bring this on her?" The voice was monotone, tinged with undertones of hopelessness and self guilt that stung Alfred to the bone.

"Of course not, sir. There was nothing you could have done while locked up with the madman himself," he replied, trying to sound reassuring, all the while knowing he was failing terribly.

Bruce's eyes dropped back to stare at his knees, his shoulders slumped. "I- I..should have been there. I should have KNOWN."

"As I'm sure you've been told before, none of this is your fault..." Alfred couldn't help but remember when Bruce's parents had died...he'd said the exact same thing. He'd said it with the same straight face he said it with now; he'd believed himself then, and he believed himself now. But there was a difference between reassuring a child, and reassuring a grown man. The words seemed to ring false in a way they shouldn't have.

Bruce snorted at this reply, looking up at his butler with an incredulous smile. "Alfred, NONE of this would have happened, were it not for the Batman. The Joker wouldn't have called on me as his little...play toy," he spat the words out, remembering in a distasteful fashion what had occurred at the abandoned warehouse. The smile was preceded by a frightening little giggle, and Alfred was almost sure Bruce hadn't gotten enough sleep.

This all caused dear Alfred Pennyworth to pause, before slowly shaking his head. "You don't seem to get, Master Wayne, just how different the Batman is from you."

Looking up, the younger man frowned, his dark eyebrows coming together in confusion. "What-"

Alfred cut him off by approaching the chair stiffly, his face serious. "You are NOT the Batman...you're the man behind the mask, Master Wayne. With all due respect, the Batman is something entirely different, he's the legacy you've created running about in costume, he's the representation of all that's good in Gotham."

He stopped to let the words sink in, before adding, "It may be because of Batman that the Joker's turned Gotham into his amusement park, but things like that are bound to happen. It's not your fault, Master Wayne." He prodded the young Wayne's chest to accentuate the point. "So don't you ever go blaming yourself for what happens during your fight for justice. You already tried that, and it landed you and the Commissioner in a cell with the Devil himself."

Straightening up, Alfred huffed slightly under his breath. Bruce stared up at the older man, not really sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all.

"Here's your breakfast," Alfred finally said, sliding the platter he'd originally brought in over to Bruce's side. He turned to go, but before he did, he turned and said, "Learn from your mistakes, Master Bruce."

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Warm water gushed all around Bruce, dripping off his nose, his hair, his lips; it ran down his bare body in small rivulets. The cool outside air melded with the hot liquid pouring from the shower faucet, creating steam that filled the entire room with a sort of fog.

Having already washed, Bruce leaned his forehead up against the glass of the shower stall, his eyes closed.

"Killing is making a choice."

Shuddering despite himself, Bruce pushed away from the wall quickly, his eyes coming completely open. Those same words had been haunting his sleep for the past couple nights, and no matter what he did, what he said, they never seemed to go away.

Turning off the tap, the millionaire shoved his way out of his steamy sanctuary and out onto the cold marble floor beyond. He'd just done so when a knock at the door reached his ears.

He tied a towel around his waist and said, "Come in."

The door swung open, and Alfred poked his head in. "The door, Master Bruce. Commissioner Gordon's here to see you."

Bruce's heart skipped a beat, and he could feel his eyes widening despite himself. Alfred must have picked up on the aura of uneasiness, for he said calmly, "He doesn't seem overly upset...I don't think it's anything urgent, if you would like me to send him away..."

It took a moment for Wayne's mind to process the information, but when it clicked, he shook his head. "No, it's fine. Tell him I'll be out in a moment, won't you?"

"Of course, Master Wayne," his manservant replied, bowing slightly before he left, closing the door behind him. Bruce shivered a little at all the cold air the little visit had let in, and hurriedly dried his body off best he could.

Gordon. Gordon had made well on his word, and had come to visit...his home. Bruce couldn't help but smile slightly when he thought of their last encounter...it seemed that thinking of Gordon eliminated some of the utter remorse he felt for Rachel's death, for his failed attempt at saving Dent...every little bit helped, and Gordon seemed to be more than a "little" bit.

Throwing on one of his old velvet bathrobes, Bruce padded barefoot out of the bathroom. Although he'd dried off successfully, his hair was still fairly wet, dying it a deep jet black that stuck out here and there in odd damp spikes. The bathrobe itself made him an epitome of wealth and stature, and combined, he created a rather dashing effect without even meaning to.

Unaware of this, or indeed, of how sexy it made him look, he made his way to the front room, where he caught his first glimpse of Gordon after their first kiss encounter.

The other man looked same as ever; chocolaty hair streaked with grey, his old familiar trench coat hanging over the back of his chair, sipping at a cup of coffee Alfred had indubitably brought him.

It seemed unplanned actions were now a common event when concerned with Gordon, for Bruce felt his face crinkle into a smile without his command. However, he didn't loiter about, and approached quickly.

"Good evening, Commissioner. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he greeted politely, when he'd entered the room. Gordon's head snapped up; always the alert one, he was. He relaxed a little when he saw it was the rich playboy himself, smiling best he could in return. However, Bruce could tell something was eating at him.

"I hardly think we need such civilities, don't you think, Mr. Wayne?" he replied, his voice sounded more than a little tired.

"Then please, call me Bruce."

Gordon raised his eyebrow, but shrugged and chuckled a little. Things felt slightly awkward, especially after what had happened between them, but it was undeniable; the chemistry they'd both felt during their last meeting was still very much there. Hell, Bruce could all but see it in the other man's eyes; he'd momentarily forgotten he was wearing nothing but a bathrobe, but he could tell right away that Gordon had been finely attuned to the fact for some time now.

"Sorry I'm so...ill dressed. I wasn't expecting company," Wayne apologized after a couple moments of silence. God, he hated silence. When he was with Gordon, at least.

"Oh, it's my fault, I should have phoned," was Gordon's quick reply. They stood there for a moment, before both laughing a little. Bruce didn't fail to notice the red blush of color that had momentarily swept over Gordon's face.

Hesitantly seating himself in a chair across from Gordon, Bruce slowly said, "So what's on your mind, Gordon?"

It was the Commissioner's turn to sigh, and he shrugged- another nervous tick of his. "I visited Harvey Dent today." Bruce's eyes clouded over at this, his mouth becoming a grim line. Gordon caught this easily, but it wasn't something that was about to stop him.

"He's not accepting skin grafts, and he's...well, he's very angry."

"I would be too, if my future bride and half my face was blown to bits," Bruce muttered, sounding more than a little bitter. Gordon looked up at him then, with those clear, concise eyes of his.

"I'm worried about him, Bruce. If he doesn't get back on his feet..." he left the sentence unfinished, but they both knew very well what Gordon was getting at.

"There's not much we can do now..." was Bruce's only offered opinion, before he too shrugged, his face still bleak. Gordon's own eyes turned pained, but only for half a second.

"I- I'm worried about you too, Bruce."

Frowning, Bruce looked up at the older man, shaking his head. "What for?"

"You know full well. I've heard from Alfred that you're walking around like a living zombie, that you won't eat, that you blame yourself..."

"Since when have you and Alfred been talking?" Bruce asked incredulously. Gordon looked slightly uncomfortable as he shrugged, yet again.

"He's worried about you too," Gordon said, persisting. Bruce sighed in an aggravated tone, the set of his shoulders becoming defensive. Gordon noted this, so he eased up.

"Well...I'm on your side, if it makes you feel better."

Not meeting the other man's eyes, Bruce looked away before turning his gaze back on Gordon. He didn't reply, only stiffly nodded.

More silence, but this time it was Gordon who broke it. "Well...I should really be getting back to Barbara, and the kids..." he said feebly, not really wanting to leave at all. Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole lot he could do with Bruce being so withdrawn.

When he was met with no response, Gordon got up, uneasily picking up his coat and sliding into it. About to head for the door, he was interrupted. "Gordon, wait."

Turning back, Gordon was caught by surprise; Bruce was standing right there. Lord, the man was fast! "Y-yes?" he managed, feeling suddenly flustered by the close contact.

Bruce gripped Gordon's coat collars at this point, looking into his partner's eyes, and then he pulled the man in by them, connecting their lips slowly. His mouth moved almost lazily on Gordon's, sensually, and when the dark man pulled away, Gordon's eyes were glassy.

"Thanks for coming."

"My pleasure."

"Good night, Gordon."

"...Good night...Bruce."

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So, that's it for the first chapter- please review! Oh, and by the way, Gordon's conversation with Dent (as alluded to in the beginning of the chapter) is the same as the movie.

There will be more to come, never you fear!