Okay... really slow chapter ahead, but it needed to be written. I promise they'll get longer. I just need to get to a point where I feel comfortable enough. And I've never written Batman before, or Gordon, or Alfred, or Lucius...
Gordon stood staring at the man who had protected him and his family again and again and again. The man who faced countless evil terrors.
But also the man who told tasteless jokes at charities, bought everything in site. Had almost a dozen models on his arm at one time.
It couldn't be the same person. Couldn't be playboy and crime fighter at the same time. The man burned down his own mansion for Christ sake.
What about Rachel Dawes, they were close... Close enough for Bruce Wayne to jump out a window for her?
But Wayne wouldn't risk his own life, he had hidden in a panic room when the Joker had come to call. He had witnesses for that.
What if it wasn't a panic room?
It could have been a secret passage to wherever he kept his suit. After all no one had gone with him. But still to reconcile a man such as Wayne to an unstoppable force such as Batman? It was folly, impossible. Yet the evidence lay before him. That suit was no fancy dress for a party, those bruises were real. Those knife wounds were not going to disappear.
Suddenly his knees felt weak, he sat down.
He could remember his first encounter with the billionaire playboy. His parents had just been shot in front of his eyes, he was small, scared, hanging onto his father's coat like a life-line. Just a little boy in an uncomfortable suit, trying not to cry.
Gordon had cried that night, all of Gotham had wept for the loss. He had gone to the funeral, seen the boy standing by his guardian, the butler, and the young child hadn't shed a single tear. There was sadness in his face, unbearable loss. And anger, lots of anger.
When a the boy came back from college, his eyes empty, he had still been a good man, sober, quiet but still angry. Gordon had seen that at Chill's court case. The raw rage at the ratty man standing in the corner recounting his sins. And just as suddenly as he'd come home, the young man left, just after Chill got released and murdered.
Bruce Wayne disappeared from the face of the earth. Gordon had spent a long time looking for him. Even suggested combing the river. And for seven years Gordon had assumed that Bruce Wayne had suicided, even Wayne enterprises agreed. They declared him dead.
And then he came back. Changed. He flirted with every woman that walked. Bought any restaurants or hotels that resisted his ridiculous escapades. And ignored the fact that Gotham was collapsing around him. But he was no longer angry, he was no longer anything.
And with Bruce Wayne came Batman. And crime dropped with the fall of the Falcone family.
Gordon stared at the man on the hospital bed. He had to get the suit off. And he did so in silence, wincing at every bruise that he uncovered, every cut and crudely stitched wound.
The man's whole body seemed to be a patchwork doll, muscled, beaten up and broken. When he was finished, he carefully placed the mask back onto Batman's face and left to call the doctors.
He didn't check to see if Bruce Wayne was still alive.
Back in the waiting room with a cup of coffee in one hand, Gordon took a shaky breath. He wanted so badly to forget what he had just seen. How could he trust Batman when he knew what kind of person he masqueraded as in the day. Who Batman really? A playboy out for kicks or Avenger, protecting himself and those close to him. Who was Bruce Wayne for that matter? Just another mask? How many will have to be pulled away?
He took a sip of the tepid coffee and winced at the foul taste. God, he needed some sleep. Some time to just think.
He stared up at the TV above the chairs. It was showing an advert for toothpaste. The bright colors flashed in his vision, a falsely cheery voice shouting how DentriPaste was used by seventy five percent of Gotham's finest dentists.
The picture abruptly changed to show a young woman in her late twenties, early thirties standing outside the hospital.
"Batman, the city's so called 'Guardian Angel', who sudden;y turned to harbinger of death four weeks ago, following the killings of four cops and the kidnapping of Commissioner Gordon's family, has been brought into the Lakeshore Medical Center in dire need of surgical help. No reports yet on the Batman's condition but the following footage was captured on the ambulances arrival."
The next clip was of Gordon himself pushing through the crowd of journalists, forging a way for the gurney which had the motionless body of Batman upon it.
The camera flicked back to the news agent. "His medical status remains a mystery and erratic reports have come confirming the death of the city's most wanted criminal. One has to wonder though, as the Commissioner was on sight at the scene, 'How was Batman injured?' Many theories have developed in the past hour on a revenge attempt or self defense on Commissioner Gordon's part. The Commissioner has yet to exit the Lakeshore Medical and give us a statement. We'll keep you updated as the story unfolds."
The woman disappeared from the screen again and an aging man appeared at an anchors desk. A blue screen behind him confirmed the channel as Mass News.
"In other news the Joker remains at large, having escaped from Arkham not four days ago. Bruce Wayne is funding a Gala for Wayne Enterprises. He plans to return to his home, Wayne Manor with a homecoming party next week. Andrew Reeves, a missing person of three months was sighted yesterday at the market in Downtown Gotham, any news on his disappearance would be helpful to investigators."
Gordon finished his coffee, and though about what a mess he had made of everything. Instead of simplifying things, revealing Batman's identity just made everything more complicated.
Who knew? Nobody had disappeared with him. He could be using prototypes from his company. He could be working alone, no one would know. Damn.
Rachel probably knew, but she was dead. Of course if Batman were dead, none of this would matter. Gordon groaned and put his head back into his hands. He was way in over his head. Batman had to escape. That much was obvious. But how to do it?
He agonized for a few minutes. He probably had a few days at the most. If Wayne lived that long. Gordon would be forced to arrest him and charge him with murder, kidnapping, theft, disturbance of the peace, and causing public unrest. Not to mention all the lawsuits filed against him for damaged property.
Gordon went back to batman's room and an odd sight met his eyes, two doctors were crowded around Batman's bed, two journalists photographing him, one was leaning over, ready to pull the mask off.
They all stared guiltily up at Gordon as he entered. He pointed at the door wordlessly. They left, but Gordon wasn't quite finished. With an easy movement he snatched the camera's off the journalists' necks.
"Hey!" cried one indignantly, trying to grab the swinging equipment. He held it out of their reach.
"Evidence." He said quietly holding their gazes. Mattering curses and trowing dark glances at the Commissioner the reporters exited. The doctors fled before Gordon could get their names. He was left with Batman.
The heart moniter was giving off a steady beep. So he was alive.
He didn't look it. His skin was a sickly white and his wounds were growing into a vivid purple. The Doctors had but his arm into a cast and his cuts had been sew up professionally.
All in all he looked terrible.
Gordon pulled the curtains closed again and pulled Batman's mask off again. The shock of recognition wasn't so bad when Bruce Wayne didn't have his suit on. Gordon slapped him lightly on the cheek. When this bore no response, Gordon shook the man, it was hard trying to find an area that had not been marred my bruises.
Bruce was cold. Far too cold. And something was jarring him. Any movement at all was agonizing, but he forced his heavy eyelids open.
There was a bright light above him, but It was quickly obscured by something. A face. A familiar face. It looked down at him, worried.
"Mr. Wayne?"
Oh, even sound hurt. He squinted up. His mask wasn't on. He must have gotten sick or mugged or whatever happens to people when they aren't being Batman.
"Commissioner Gordon?"
The face smiled in relief. "You've been hurt. You're in a hospital and we need to get you out."
"Out? But I just got here... I think. What's the rush?"
Pain is fading, that's good. What happened? Why is Gordon here?
"You don't remember do you?" Gordon's smile was fading.
"Remember what?" Bruce tried to find his watch. It was gone. His whole arm was bare. Revealing the purplish blue bruises. "Oh, you want to know about these? I was-"
"Mr. Wayne, I know who you are."
Bruce stopped short his mind racing. "What?"
"Batman?"
Oh... Shit.
"Can I have my phone call?"
Okay yeah, the last line was not meant to mirror the Joker in anyway at all... So... Yeah. That's it for now. I know how slow this went. The next chappie will probably have Fox, Alfred, and maybe the Joker... Yeahhhh, please don't hate me if I got this chapter wrong.