It was midnight in Wayne Manor, and Jim Gordon thought that sleep would have been easier to come by. He lay awake, staring up at the moonlit ceiling, just the top sheet covering him lightly. Alone and restless, he could feel the emptiness of the room surround him, closing in. He was beginning to think he should have gone back to his apartment, but he didn't feel he could take Babs there in the state of disaster it was given due to his lack of time to clean. He'd have to fix that; they couldn't stay here forever.

Gordon rolled onto his stomach, one arm hanging over the side of the bed, and stared absentmindedly out the window, watching the light reflect off the water in the pool in the back courtyard. He was somewhat relieved that Bruce had decided to go out on patrol tonight instead of staying in; Gordon needed the time think and gather himself for the next day, when he would have to meet with the lawyer and check in at MCU to see if Stephens had finished his investigation of the car accident. He had to be prepared to hear the worst but wanted to expect the least worst scenario. Yes, the best. Think positive, Jim. He had to; it would be the only way he was going to get any sleep tonight.

A few more minutes of telling himself that everything would be fine and nothing awful was going to be felt in the investigation, and he found his lids begin to droop and his mind ease into blankness.

When he dozed off he dreamed of the other night – seeing his brother's car a mangled mess on the side of the road, the blood splatter, the bits of torn flesh on shards of broken windshield glass. It was a nightmare. And then there was Babs, and she kept showing up awkwardly in strange places through the dream, constantly there a reminder to him that he was impressionable at her age, and dealing with the emotions and hormones of a young teenaged girl – all things Gordon knew nothing about. The real nightmare was coming to the realization that he'd be the one to take care of her now, to raise her properly – a second chance at becoming the father he knew he would never be to his own two children.

It scared him more than he'd want to admit.

He woke in a cold sweat, laying on his side, sheets half thrown off of him. He felt a pair of warm fingers caressing the curve of his spine slowly as if counting his vertebra. Gordon didn't move or open his eyes; he didn't need to look to know who was laying in bed beside him, touching him in all the right places, making him feel the way only one person could: Bruce Wayne. The younger man lifted the sheet and slid his warm body up against Gordon's half curled form and rested his hand on the older man's hip bone.

Bruce nuzzled his nose into the nape of Gordon's neck. "Are you awake?" A whisper almost as soft as the caresses that came along with it. Gordon didn't answer, he merely pushed his back into Bruce's chest in a vain attempt to get a little closer. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" Gordon couldn't be sure what Bruce meant. Sorry for his loss? Sorry for the case he now had to handle? Sorry for...? Sometimes Bruce left him completely baffled, especially when he came back with answers whose meanings Gordon couldn't quite place.

Bruce brushed his lips against the other man's ear. "Everything." He squeezed Gordon tightly to him and rested his head on his shoulder. Gordon wanted to ask him exactly what he meant by that; everything could be anything or it could have just been Bruce's way of apologizing in advance for something he might have caused. Gordon didn't push it. The younger man's breath had started to slow into a soft rhythm, so Gordon pulled Bruce's arm further around him and fell back to sleep, this time dreamless.

------

By morning Jim Gordon had nearly forgotten about Bruce's incoherent late night apology. He could have chalked it up to a lot of things, but he chose to believe that Bruce was merely very tired and rambling before drifting off into his own slumber. He was sure that Bruce wasn't going to bring it up again; in fact he probably wouldn't even remember saying it. So Gordon decided to forget about it and move on with his day.

He slipped out of bed, careful to place Bruce's arm gently on the mattress – so as to not wake him. Gordon found his suit on the chair by the bathroom door. He pulled it on and found his tie, letting it dangle around his neck as he fixed his cuffs in the bathroom mirror. He saw Bruce stir behind him and heard inaudible mumbling from the playboy as he rolled onto his back. Gordon walked out of the bathroom, fumbling with his tie as he went.

Bruce stared groggily at him from the bed. Usually this was about the time that Bruce started in on how early it was and where the hell was his coffee, but today he didn't say any of that; today his expression held stiff and his eyes were focused as if he had been awake for quite some time. Gordon held the younger man's gaze as he finished tying the knot in his tie and took a few steps for the bed to find his shoes beside it.

"I have that meeting in about an hour with the lawyer, and then I have to go meet Gerry at MCU, see what he's got on the case." Gordon sat down on the bed beside Bruce, back to him, picking up his shoes to put them on. Bruce continued to stare, watching the older man's every move as if to study him, his eyes never leaving him. He knew Bruce well enough to know what he was thinking.

"Garcia hasn't even brought it up in over two weeks. I think he's wary of what the consequences might be if you aren't totally well, " Gordon said as he finished slipping on his brown dress shoes. He and Bruce rarely brought up the the incidents of the past March; they had chosen to "forgive and forget and move on", whereas the mayor had not. It was understandable for Garcia to be hesitant about allowing Bruce to work with MCU again. It was odd, really, because Bruce had started out hating the fact that he had to check in with anyone at all, and now he was upset because he couldn't. Maybe Bruce was learning something about teamwork after all.

Bruce scooted across the bed to sit next to Gordon, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. "I'm past that." Bruce's voice was low, soft and almost apologetic. "It feels so pointless to patrol every night, knowing I can't come back and talk it over with you." Or with anyone, for that matter, Gordon thought. Garcia had told Gordon that if Bruce tried to discuss a case with him then he would need to tell Bruce to back down, and if he still continued to try, they would resort to something more drastic. Bruce didn't deserve any of that, but Garcia had valid reasons to fear what Bruce might do, and the precautions were understandable. Bruce also saw this and respected it – but it didn't mean he felt good about it.

"Well," Gordon said as he pushed himself up off the bed with his hands, "hopefully that'll change soon." He gave Bruce a wistful smile, one that was partially hidden under his mustache, and which Bruce had deemed 'cute'.

"Yeah..." Bruce drifted off with a sigh. It was obviously bothering him more than he was going to admit to Gordon. Maybe he could talk to Garcia later and work something out; Bruce was more than ready to start doing his job full-time again.

Gordon, who had for a long time been heedful of showing any real sentiments to Bruce, bent over the younger man and kissed him tenderly on the lips, one hand on the side of his face. It was a softer moment than they often shared, but Gordon was learning to take full advantage of every situation to show Bruce how he really felt. They knew without saying that tomorrow something could tear them apart again, and he would have lost the chance to let Bruce know. Even still, it was hard for Gordon to grasp the phrase that always stuck in his throat, the three words that would someday make or break them, even though he knew it would ultimately bind them, there was still the insecurity that it might not. It was, even now, best left unsaid for the time being.

Bruce parted his lips against Gordon's. "Sorry we didn't get to our 'mini-vacation' last night." Gordon wanted to say that he wasn't at all disappointed considering the days events. He also knew that Bruce, having been out of town for a few days, needed to get out into Gotham's night air and check up on his city. Gordon would always come second, just as Bruce would always come second; but they knew that about each other, and there was an understanding between them.

"I know you'll make it up to me." Gordon whispered, feeling Bruce's hot breath against his mouth, tasting his lips and wishing he had more time to explore the ferocity of the billionaire's mouth.

"I always do." Bruce mashed their lips together tightly, tongue lapping hungrily at Gordon's. It had been a month since their make up, since Bruce had admitted to needing help – to needing Gordon – and though they had taken things a bit slower they both had a renewed sex drive that just kept getting stronger with each passing day that they didn't do anything about it. Alfred had started calling them rabid teenagers and asked if they could kindly keep their escapades to their own private quarters. Gordon knew he didn't mean it, that Alfred was happy to see Bruce making so much progress since his spiraling downfall in March. But, they did need to learn to keep themselves in check, otherwise one of these days it would get out of hand in the wrong place.

Gordon pulled back and Bruce stood with him. "I gotta get going." And Bruce smiled at him so sincerely, so openly, that Gordon wished he had a camera, because he was sure he would never see that smile again.

------

Babs was quiet on the drive to the courthouse to meet with the lawyer. She didn't say much while they were there either. She sat, slumped in her chair, arms crossed over her chest and looking away from the man presenting the will. She obviously didn't want to be there, and Gordon couldn't blame her; she had just learned of her parents' death yesterday and was already forced to reconcile with it by hearing what would ultimately happen to her.

And then it happened – the moment where Gordon felt his chest tighten as the lawyer announced guardianship of Babs. It wasn't like he hadn't expected it, or even that he was hoping for a different outcome, but he still held his breath until the man was through speaking, allowing himself to breathe again only when he was sure he had heard correctly.

Barbara Gordon, his niece, was now his legal responsibility until she turned eighteen, at which time she would inherit what little money and property her parents had owned. She looked over at her uncle with water-filled eyes and searched him for a positive reaction. Gordon, more relieved than anything, smiled and reached out his hand to her. She took it, and Gordon knew everything was going to be different now.

The lawyer asked Babs to wait in the hall while he talked to Gordon. "Mister Gordon, I know you expressed some interest in actually adopting your niece, but that might not necessarily be needed."

"Excuse me?" Gordon asked. "Not necessary?" This was getting a little weird for him, and he wasn't sure he liked the direction of the conversation.

"There was a separate letter that Thelma Gordon had attached to the will privately. Its addressed to you only. Did you want to read it, Mister Gordon, or shall I give you short version?"

"Short."

The lawyer took out the envelope and held it out for Gordon to take. "You're Babs' biological father."

------

The ride home from the meeting was deafeningly quiet for Babs, but that was okay. She didn't feel like talking or even listening, for that matter. Everything had happened so quickly that she barely had a moment to really understand her situation now. She was suddenly orphaned and left to the care of her Uncle Jim. She loved her uncle to pieces, but she found herself second guessing his parenting abilities. Her Aunt Barbara had left him and taken the kids, leaving him a bachelor. Babs could only guess what his living arrangements were like, let alone how well he'd be able to take care of himself and her as well. She was suddenly grateful that her mother had taught her to cook, clean and keep house. She had a feeling she might need it now.

Uncle Jim reached over and turned the radio on to break the silence. She wanted to tell him to turn it off, but he gave her a smile that she found so sincere that she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she listened to the dull hum of the song over the static as they drove through a tunnel. It sounded exactly the same as her own thoughts, drowned out by the noise of the world around it, slowly fading into a nothingness.

She let her mind drift to thoughts of her mother baking pies in the kitchen on the days that her father refused to come home after work; he always preferred to be at the bar, said he needed the time to cool down after a long day. Babs had believed him for years, even when he abused her mother in front of her own eyes. She had denied that it had happened, especially when he kept telling her that it was just a dream and that she needed to stop thinking so cruelly of him.

She wouldn't miss her father. She'd known for a few year now that he was scum and had lied to her and her mother more often than not. But her mother she would miss. Her best friend, the one person she went to for everything. It would be strange to come home from school and not have warm cookies waiting for her, or be able to talk about the latest gossip at school.

But she found she wasn't nearly as sad or heartbroken as she had thought she would be. The pain was obviously there inching its way through her heart, but none of it seemed real. Wasn't she supposed to feel something other than this? Uncle Jim kept telling her that she was going through shock and that it would be normal later to start feeling sad. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't. There was no point in thinking about it.

She looked to her uncle and sighed. There were going to be a lot of changes to get used to. Everything was going to be different now.

------

Gerard Stephens tossed the file in front of the commissioner and took a seat across from him. He sat back in the chair, hands folded over his stomach and waited for the other man to open it before saying anything. He didn't want to be the one to tell Jim – hell, he didn't even want to be the one that had to work on this case – but there wasn't anyone else Jim trusted, and Gerry knew it.

He watched Jim open the folder and start flipping through the reports at a rather quick pace, obviously searching for something significant. Finally Jim's fingers found the yellow sheet of paper from the impound where the car had been taken and given a thorough combing. Jim's lips parted a little, showing a bare glint of his teeth just under the wiry hairs of his mustache. Gerry knew that look; it was his "I can't believe this bullshit" look mixed with his "dear God why do I have to be commissioner" look. In most circumstances Gerry would have laughed at him, lightened the mood, but not today. The event itself had not been more than two days ago and was still too fresh to make remarks concerning it or Jim's feelings on the matter.

Jim placed the paper back down on the desk and stared at Gerry over the rim of his glasses, but he said nothing. Gerry knew he was waiting for the lieutenant to start explaining. "It's just as it says, Jim."

"They're sure it was a hit and run?" Jim asked as he closed the folder and pushed it to the side of his desk.

Gerry sighed. "The car hit the tree from the front, but after further investigation of the vehicle, there was damage to the rear driver 's side, looks like someone rammed right into it. No other cars at the scene, no witnesses. I'm so sorry, Jim." Because now it was clearly not an accident at all, but murder. For whatever reason, someone wanted Jim Gordon's family dead. Gerry had his ideas, but he wasn't about to voice them – not yet, anyway.

------

"You're what?" Bruce asked as he leaned up against the back of one of the sofas in the living room. The look on his face suggested to Gordon that he was very surprised, but at least not disgusted.

"You heard right," Gordon said with a sigh. Bruce just stared at him blankly, obviously waiting for him to continue. "It was, oh seventeen year or so ago – a little before moving here, before Barbara. Thelma and I dated for a few months, but she left me for my brother. I didn't even think about it at the time. She had Babs nine months later and Roger married her just before. That's when I met Barbara and we moved to Chicago soon after."

"You had no idea that Babs could have been yours?" Bruce stepped towards Gordon and put a hand on the older man's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"No. Bruce, it honestly never crossed my mind. I mean, it not set in stone yet, so I'm not going to tell Babs until we're certain. It's going to require some DNA tests to be sure." Gordon had his arms folded over his chest, looking out the window in deep thought. He wasn't sure how he had never noticed, never pieced everything together with Babs, and how Thelma had seemed more upset than his own brother when Gordon and Barbara moved to Gotham. It should have been obvious – Thelma should have told him.

"And what if she isn't?" Bruce's question brought Gordon out of his thoughts and he turned his head to the billionaire.

"Isn't? Oh, my daughter? Well, I'll still adopt her, as I planned to anyway. She needs a family and I know I'm not much of a father or house keeper, but I'm better than the nothing she has right now." Gordon explained. He felt Bruce wrap an arm around him, the other hand taking hold of the older man's chin and dragging his face towards his so that their eyes met.

"You've been talking to Alfred too much," Bruce teased. He dropped his voice down to something a little softer. "I think you're doing the right thing, no matter how the situation ends up. She's going to need you more than ever now. She's going to need all the love and friendship from you that she can stand, and maybe then some. Just know, she might not want it, but she's going to need it."

Gordon stared at Bruce as if he'd been replaced with someone else completely. Bruce was great with Jimmy and Susan, but Gordon had always suspected that was because he had to be nice. Now, Bruce was starting to show signs of actually caring beyond his comfort zone. Gordon couldn't help but feel just a little proud of Bruce, for stepping out of his perimeter and actually leveling to Babs' perspective. After all, hadn't Bruce lost his parents as a child too? Maybe he knew better than anyone what Babs was feeling right now.

"Don't look at me that way." Bruce's voice cut through Gordon's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He looked at Bruce and shook his head.

"This doesn't bother you at all? That there will be a teenager running amok around through our personal lives?" Gordon was only being half serious, a part of him teasing because he knew Bruce liked his privacy, especially when it came to being Batman. He wasn't sure how or if they would ever explain that to Babs.

"Everything will be different. Very different. But I think we'll be able to adapt."