Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by DC Comics, various publishers, and Warner Bros., Inc. Any other owners, licensees, or those legally attached to the Batman name, image, etc. of whom the author is unaware are included in this disclaimer although not mentioned by name. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: This story is based on characters and characterizations depicted in the Nolan version of the Batman universe. I am not well versed in the original, comic book depiction or any of its characters. Due to this, "Priorities" will largely be AU in content, although some second-hand detail may tie in loosely with comic book canon.
Chapter 4 – Ghosts of Past Transgressions
The sun hadn't been up very long when Jim pulled into the "Commissioner – GCPD" designated parking spot. The Monday morning commuter traffic hadn't really started and, as Jim looked around the parking garage, he realized that his was one of the few vehicles in the immediate vicinity. Quickly, he grabbed the worn leather briefcase and the travel mug of coffee from the car, locked it and walked toward the elevators. Ten o'clock would come before he knew it and, as little as Jim was looking forward to seeing Diana again, he desperately wanted to get that meeting out of the way.
XXXXXXXX
Across town, the early morning sun crept into a pale yellow bedroom, casting weak light across the rumpled bed covers. While the room was beautifully furnished and decorated, a lone packing carton, hastily shoved into a far corner, gave evidence of the recent change of resident.
The sound of running water stopped abruptly as the shower in the adjoining bathroom was turned off and in a moment, the buzz of a hair dryer took its place. Soon, a petite, dark-haired woman crossed the bedroom, bath towel wrapped around her body, sarong-style. Opening the double doors of the huge walk-in closet, Diana Garibaldi walked inside and thoughtfully considered the row of suits before her. Finally selecting a black suit featuring a curve-hugging pencil skirt, a crimson silk shell and soft, Italian leather stiletto pumps. Smiling to herself, Diana chose matching crimson undergarments and silk hosiery. Dressing quickly, she returned to her bedroom, seated herself at her vanity table and began to apply her makeup.
Not bad, if I do say so myself, she thought as she studied her reflection with a critical eye. In the nearly eight years since she had last seen Jim Gordon, very little in Diana's physical appearance had changed. Any tell tale silver in her dark brown hair was discreetly washed away by a very talented stylist who had recommended a similarly gifted professional in Gotham City. Her figure had always managed to be curvaceous without tending toward plumpness and a naturally quick metabolism had kept it so. Diana applied crimson lipstick to her full mouth, capped the tube and rose from the small bench. She slipped into her suit jacket and double-checked the mirror one final time. Diana smiled. Barbara Gordon would have a tough time competing with this!
Spurred by that thought, Gotham's interim prosecutor made her way out into the living area of the townhouse, turning toward the granite topped breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the formal dining room. Diana silently blessed the technology gods for the creation of coffee makers that brewed according to pre-programmed timers. Sipping from a generously sized mug, the woman perched on one of the barstools and pulled her briefcase toward her. Diana slid a manicured hand into the front pocket and withdrew a plain manila folder marked "Personal and Confidential". As she did so, a number of 8 x 10 photos slipped onto the polished counter; various black and white shots of the Gordons looked back at her.
Neither the images in the photographs nor the neatly prepared reports held any revelations for Diana; she had virtually committed the folder's contents to memory weeks ago. Detective James Gordon … well, Commissioner James Gordon, now – had certainly done well establishing himself in Gotham City. Somehow, he had managed to remain married to his plain Jane wife who, in turn, had popped out a couple of kids for him. Diana perused the photographs one by one; the surveillance photographer had done his job very well. In her hands, Diana Garibaldi held snippets of family life – Jim Gordon's family life. Diana frowned as she turned up a photo of Barbara and Jim leaving a memorial service for one of Gotham's previous prosecutors, Rachel Dawes. How could you have chosen her over me, Jim? Diana wondered. She closed her eyes and remembered that night in Chicago, so long ago, when they had come together. Diana was far from virginal when she took Jim Gordon to bed – and she had hardly been celibate since that time. While she wasn't necessarily interested in stepping into Barbara Gordon's role as his wife, Diana was decidedly attracted to Jim Gordon – and his prowess in the bedroom. For his part, he had attempted to minimize their professional interactions after the disciplinary action had stripped him of the rank of detective. Anxious to avoid fallout from their single passionate encounter, Diana had not initiated any contact with Jim. She had simply chosen to wait until his conscience had eased a bit and the time arrived when she could perhaps maneuver a more personal encounter. He, however, had been maddeningly loyal to his little auburn-haired haus-frau and had taken her and fled Chicago shortly after their one-night stand. Discovering his new location had not been difficult and, once known, Diana filed the information away for potential future use. She then resumed her life, both professional and personal, earning a reputation as a ruthless prosecutor in the courtroom and something of a heartbreaker outside of it. That reputation had put her on a collision course with Chicago's infamous Colletti crime family – and Rico Colletti's eldest son, Marco. Now there…
The loud ring of her cell phone brought Diana out of her reverie. She picked up the instrument, pressed the 'answer' button and said, "Yes?"
"Ms. Garibaldi?" the voice was coolly professional.
"Yes," Diana said again.
"This is Eileen from Mayor Garcia's office. He wanted me to remind you of your 10 o'clock appointment with Commissioner Gordon."
Diana smiled. "Yes, thank you for the call."
Diana slipped her cell phone back into her purse, finished her coffee and placed the mug in the dishwasher. Grabbing briefcase, purse and car keys, she then made her way through the foyer of the townhouse and out the front door, wondering vaguely if Jim had received a similar call. She never for a moment doubted that Jim would honor the appointment; men like Commissioner Gordon were too honorable themselves to sidestep responsibility.
XXXXXXXX
"Thank you," Jim spoke quietly into his cell phone then flipped the unit closed.
As if I needed a reminder of my 10 o'clock meeting, he thought. Garcia certainly covered all his bases, didn't he? As that thought crossed his mind, Jim idly wondered if Eileen had been instructed to remind Diana of the meeting as well.
Jim pulled a folder from the pile teetering on the top of his desk. In it was a multi-page listing of all pending cases of arrests made by the Major Crimes Unit in the past three months. Complete with summaries, it was a staggering account of the heights to which crime had escalated in the city – and how much progress had been made in reversing the trend. Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. With the Batman a perceived criminal, that progress was going to come to a screeching halt. He could only hope that the criminal element didn't gain too much ground before Batman's situation was resolved.
"Commissioner Gordon?"
Jim looked up from the folder to see Claire, his secretary, standing in the doorway.
"Hi, Claire. Let me guess: my 10 o'clock appointment is here, right?" he smiled at the older woman, who nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Jim's eyebrows rose; Claire was as predictable as death and taxes – and this behavior was decidedly unpredictable.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Claire glanced over her shoulder at the closed door before answering. "She's very … well, I would have to say…"
A firm knock on the door interrupted her and Claire frowned. She looked over at her boss and raised one eyebrow. "Pushy," she finished and turned to open the door. Jim barely managed to wipe the amused smile from his face before Diana strode into the room, her hand extended toward him. She never gave Claire a second look.
"Commissioner Gordon," Diana spoke quietly, watching Jim's face as he shook her hand briefly then gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
"Ms. Garibaldi," he replied in kind. "Please, sit down. Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea?" As he raised his eyes toward the doorway, Claire's frown deepened into a scowl and she shook her head once, then left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Jim bit the inside of his cheek and returned his gaze to the woman seated in front of him.
"Nothing, thank you," Diana said, glancing around at the closed door, then back at Jim. "Given that you would apparently have to make it yourself…"
Jim gave her a brief smile. "I assure you, I would not." When Diana said nothing further on the subject, he shrugged and took his seat. "If you change your mind, let me know."
Jim picked up the folder he had been reviewing prior to Diana's arrival and extended it across the desk to her. "I've pulled together a list and summary for you of each of the pending cases from the Major Crimes Unit. I thought you could take some time to review it and we could discuss any questions you might have."
Diana reached for the file without breaking eye contact with Jim. "Getting right down to business, are we, Jim?"
Jim returned her gaze steadily. "That's why the Mayor set up this meeting, Diana," he replied. "It is the only reason for the meeting."
Diana settled the file in her lap and crossed her legs. "And what about the 800 pound elephant in the room?"
Jim sighed. "If you are referring to what happened in Chicago, that elephant was put to sleep a long time ago. I thought you realized that. Diana, what happened back then was brought on by some type of survivor euphoria. We had been in a life-threatening situation and responded without thinking when we pulled through it. It was a mistake. A mistake made almost 8 years ago. In Chicago. That chapter of my life is closed. Don't try to open it here. Please. We need to work together until a permanent DA is in place. Let's make it as stress-free as we can, shall we?"
Diana found herself enthralled as she listened to him speak. This was not the Jim Gordon she had known – and bedded – in Chicago. The man seated across from her was far more confident, more mature, less inclined to allow himself to be dazzled by an attractive – and available – colleague. This could complicate things.
Forcing what she hoped to be a relieved-looking smile on her face, Diana nodded. "I'm glad, Jim. I'll confess that I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing in agreeing to come to Gotham to fill in as the interim DA." She leaned forward, clasping her hands on the edge of his desk. "Let's face it, you and I didn't really communicate much with each other after we …," she paused and looked away for a moment before continuing. "… well, afterward. I wasn't sure that you weren't harboring resentment toward me for the demotion or … anything else that happened that night."
Jim felt the heat rise to his face and knew he was blushing furiously. Taking a deep breath, his voice was stead as he replied, "Diana, I never resented you for anything that happened back then. The demotion was the result of my bringing an unarmed civilian into a dangerous situation where gunfire was exchanged and a man shot. Was there a political angle to that demotion because we slept together? I doubt it – unless someone found out about that; even if they had known, I sincerely doubt that it would have made a difference. I was a newly promoted detective with absolutely no political sway in that town. You were, I'll grant you, an up and coming prosecutor, but you weren't in a position to influence anyone at that time, either."
"Ouch," Diana smiled wryly.
Jim shook his head. "I said 'at that time'. Whatever influence you gained afterward is your own business. I have no knowledge of it and, unless it affects what happens here in Gotham, I don't need to have knowledge of it." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I think that it would just be best for you and I to start with a clean professional slate."
"Agreed," Diana said.
Jim cleared his throat. "I need to ask something, Diana," he said quietly. "Did you mention any detail about Chicago to Garcia when you met with him?"
Ah, so the Commissioner does feel a bit of regret – or is it guilt about that night. "Of course not, Jim," she reassured him. "He only knows that you and I were acquainted in Chicago. I also told him that we hadn't spoken in years."
"Good," Jim nodded.
"I wouldn't deliberately do anything that would compromise your position here," Diana said, hoping that Jim felt she was sincere. In truth, telling the tale of their tryst from so long ago would cause her own reputation harm. That was her overriding reason for holding her tongue.
"I appreciate that, Diana," Jim was saying. "Now, let's put this clean slate to work and start reviewing those cases."
Diana smiled and shifted her chair closer to the edge of his desk. "You know, I think I will have that cup of coffee, after all."
Jim smiled and picked up the phone to ask Claire to accommodate them.
XXXXXXXX
"Daddy!" Maggie's voice split the early evening air as she spied Jim pulling into their driveway. Leaping up from the top step of their tiny porch, she fairly danced in place while she waited for her father to lock the car and make his way up the walk.
"Maggie-mine!" he replied, reaching the bottom step and holding out his arms.
As was their habit – whenever he arrived home early enough – she leapt from the top step and Jim caught her, swinging her around once before hugging her to him tightly, kissing her cheek and tickling her with his mustache.
"I like it when you come home for dinner," she confided, kissing his cheek an extra time and giving him another tight hug.
Jim returned her embrace then climbed the three steps leading to the house. "I like it when I come home for dinner, too," he said, opening the door and depositing his giggling daughter on the floor.
"Mommy! Daddy's home," Maggie called into the kitchen.
"Maggie, use your indoor voice, please," Barbara admonished the little girl, coming into the entryway to meet her husband. She embraced him tightly, loving the feel of his arms snaking around her waist and hugging her closely. "You couldn't speak to her about shrieking in the house, I suppose?" she whispered in his ear, barely stifling a giggle.
Jim drew back to look at her, not bothering to restrain his own chuckle. "Nope," he replied. "I went deaf after she met me on the steps!"
"So did half the neighbors, I'm sure," Barbara smiled, leaning up and kissing him again. "Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes. You've got time to wash up and change."
"Can I expect this type of treatment every night at suppertime?" Jim asked, grinning. "Because if this happens every night, I'm going to try harder to get home on time from now on!"
Barbara smiled at him, but dropped her hand from his neck and gave his bottom a pinch.
"Hey!" Jim objected. "That hurt!"
"I know," she replied, moving away from him and heading back into the kitchen. Half way there, she turned and mouthed, "Smart ass!"
Jim shook his head at her. "Language, Mrs. Gordon!" He turned away to head toward their bedroom then turned back. "Hey, where's Jimmy?"
Barbara smiled sadly. "In his room. Had a bit of a problem at school today. A couple of boys were teasing him about the Batman: how the Commissioner was wrong about him. Jimmy took it without saying anything but when he turned to walk away from them, one of the boys said something about you that he didn't like and he gave the boy a shove. One of the teachers saw the whole thing and called me. No one was hurt and the principal is going to have a chat with the boys who were involved, since they clearly instigated things."
Jim closed his eyes for a minute. "Did you talk with him?"
Barbara nodded. "I told him I thought he was brave for sticking up for what he believed in – for sticking up for you, but that we needed to use our words and not our hands when people made us angry. I told him that I thought he should talk with you when you got home tonight."
XXXXXXXX
Jim knocked on his son's closed door and waited for a moment.
"Come in."
"Hey," Jim walked into the boy's room and closed the door behind him.
"Hi, Daddy," his son replied without looking up.
"Can I sit with you for a minute?"
The boy nodded and Jim sat next to him on his bed.
"Did Mommy tell you what happened today at school?" Jimmy asked.
"Yes, son, she did," Jim replied. "Look at me, please."
Jimmy looked up at his father and Jim was dismayed to see that his eyes were slightly red.
"You were very brave to stand there and not react to what they said about the Batman. I know how hard that was. You know Batman's a good guy, that he's on our side and it's hard to listen to people say otherwise. You knew you couldn't say anything and you didn't. I'm proud of you, son," Jim said quietly, putting his hand on the top of Jimmy's head.
Jimmy exhaled shakily. "But I pushed Tom," he whispered. "He said that you were … well, he said something about you that made me mad."
Jim smiled. "Want to tell me what he said?"
Jimmy looked up at him again. "He said you were stupid to have thought that the Batman was a good guy."
Jim grinned at his son. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
Jimmy's eyes grew wide. "No!"
"Then that's all that matters to me. I don't care what this kid Tom thinks of me. I care what my kid, Jimmy thinks of me. Understand?" Jim put his arm around his son's shoulders.
Jimmy nodded and, for the first time, smiled up at his father.
"Now," Jim continued. "That's not to say that pushing him was the right thing to do. I understand why you did it, but Mommy was right – you need to use your words and not your hands in those situations. Clear?"
Jimmy nodded. "Clear."
Jim leaned down and kissed the boy's blonde head. "Good. Now, let's get washed up for dinner, ok?"
Jimmy's jaw dropped. "That's it? You're not going to punish me?"
Jim smiled. "Are you going to do it again?"
"No way!"
"Then I think we're ok, don't you?" Jim asked.
Jimmy smiled again. "Yeah, I do."
"Good." Jim rose and headed for the door. He put his hand on the knob and paused, turning back toward his son. "Jimmy," he called quietly. When the boy looked up, he continued, "Thank you for sticking up for me, son."
Jimmy nodded. "Anytime. I'll just remember to do it better next time."
Jim laughed. "Come on, let's get ready for dinner."
XXXXXXXX
"Hey, baby, how was your first day in Gotham?" Marco Colletti's deep voice came through the phone.
"Successful," Diana purred back, settling herself more comfortably against her bed pillows. "Do you miss me?"
"Like crazy," came the response.
"When are you coming to Gotham?" Diana asked, already feeling the effects of her lover's voice over the phone.
"I'll be coming up to look things over by the end of the week. Find a place where we can meet that's far enough out of Gotham so we're not seen," Marco instructed.
Part of Diana bristled at the order, but she was far too anxious to spend a private weekend as the center of Marco's attention to challenge him. "I'll find someplace very private. I'll call you in a couple of days," she whispered into the phone.
"Clear your calendar, Di," Marco responded. "I'm not going to let you out of my sight for three days!"
"I'm looking forward to it," Diana said then disconnected the call.
Jim Gordon, your life just got a little more complicated, she thought as she reached over and turned off her bedside light.
