A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to get this most recent chapter up... Life.. Happened. Anyway! I'm back with a vengeance and ready to write again! Thank you guys for sticking it through!
Warning: There is self-harm in this story. If you cannot take it, feel free to exit off this story. I understand.
~G
The alleyway was dark, narrow, and damp; it was everything Jim Gordon hated. It was raining, and the small indentation in the city's most intricate streets was a reprieve from the torrential downpour that had graced Gotham that night. It was the only place, however, that Selina Kyle would agree to meet him, so he had no choice.
Speak of the devil, here she finally came, sauntering down the pathway. She was late - of course she was.
"Sup Gordon," she blatantly stated as she walked up.
"You're late," he deadpanned.
"And?" He sighed.
"Anyway," he continued, "I wanted.. To talk to you."
"I kinda figured," she raised her eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes.
"Bruce," her cat-like playfulness immediately disappeared. "He can't sleep. He won't eat. He barely speaks. He won't even go out of the house unless I make him. I've exhausted all of my options. I don't know what to do," he sighed.
"Why did you come to me for this?" She questioned.
"Because," he looked at her with a focused gaze, "you know him unlike anyone else. You were there when his parents died, and you were there when Alfred died. You were the only one in that hospital room with him. So somehow you know how to get to him. So please," he pleaded, "help me. I don't know what to do."
Selina sat quiet for a minute, but eventually spoke.
"I'll do what I can," Gordon sighed with relief, "but. You have to do one thing."
"And what is that?"
"You have to get him off those damn medications. They are killing him from the inside. You want to help him? You start by getting HIM back. Not the mindless, yet never-ending minded Bruce. And you wonder why he's been staring at walls like a vegetable."
Jim nodded. It made sense, really. Why hasn't he thought of it sooner?
"Alright. I'll work on it."
"Good. You know where to find me. We'll be in touch. Oh, and Jim?" Selina's voice quieted when she called him by his name. It was a first, and Jim instantly knew it was important. "I hope you can help him. He needs all the help that he can get right now."
.
.
.
"No."
"You can't just say no to everything!" Jim sighed in frustration as he tried to talk Bruce into going outside with him.
"Yes I can."
"Bruce!"
"Yes?" Bruce smiled coyly. "Better? I didn't say no."
It had been two weeks since Jim Gordon had grabbed the bottle of depression medication on Bruce's bedside table and threw it as far as he could into the ocean that surrounded Gotham's east coast. Even though it meant Bruce was getting better, it also meant that his old stubbornness was coming back.
"Bruce," Jim sighed. "All I'm saying, is that you might enjoy going outside. It's better than being cooped up in here with nothing but books."
"And I for one appreciate your suggestion, so thank you," Bruce smiled. Jim had, simply put it, had it.
"Okay. We're going outside," Jim said as he opened up the blind wide. Bruce recoiled as the light lit the room up brightly.
"I already told you I don't fucking want to!" Bruce groaned.
"Vulgarity," Jim said, throwing Bruce a coat - it was chilly outside, after all, "is no substitute for wit. Remember that."
Bruce grumbled and put on the coat as they left the apartment.
.
.
.
It was a sunny afternoon, chilly, but sunny nonetheless. Gotham really was a beautiful place, once you looked past all of the death, criminals, dirt, disease, rampant poverty, and homeless people.. Well. Parts of Gotham were really pretty. You just had to know where to look.
Bruce and Jim sat on a park bench; to a normal person, it would look like nothing significant - but everything is significant in the world of a Wayne.
"Bruce," Jim stated.
"Hmm?"
"How are you?"
"How am I?"
"How are you."
"How am I." He turned to look at Jim, and met his eyes for the first time in a long time. "Do you want the real answer or the bullshit I tell that therapist?"
"You didn't tell that therapist anything."
"Exactly." Bruce and Jim shared a smiled, and in that moment, Jim realized he was dealing with a far more advanced human being than he would meet in most of his lifetime.
Bruce Wayne was a complicated person. Far too neurotic for his age, he was being diagnosed with everything those doctors could think of. And here, he seemed to be a fully functioning person with nothing "wrong". He was complex mind, and Jim appreciated that. He liked a challenge. But this Bruce Wayne, this was the first time Bruce Wayne had ever opened up. He would never miss this opportunity.
"I want the real answer."
"The real answer," Bruce paused. "The real answer.. I feel numb. But I feel less numb than I did when I was living in the haze from day to day. I kind of miss it.. Not being able to feel anything. But at the same time, I don't. I hate feeling. But now, at least I feel something. Other than blank. Empty. Numb. Void. I'd rather feel anything, even pain, than nothing at all. Does that make sense?"
"Of course," Jim nodded, and mentally cursed. That was it? They boy had gave him everything, but nothing at the same time. He had given Jim what he would, but he was not ready to give anymore, and that was okay. But that didn't mean that Jim still didn't say all the words he didn't allow Bruce to say. Several, several times.
"I'm finally beginning to understand what going on in my life. A little at a time.. It's not much, but it's something. I'm learning my purpose. My passions. My place. I'm trying to figure out why on earth I'm still here. I've had enough reason to not be.." Bruce trailed off.
"Hey.. Look. Bruce." Jim waited until he got his attention. "I want you to know, that I'm here for you. If you need anything, it's my job now."
"That's the thing.. It's just a job, isn't it?" Bruce smiled sadly. "That's all anyone sees me as anymore. I'm a job, something they have to do. Something they have to fix."
Jim realized what Bruce thought he meant after a moment and mentally groaned. "No! That's not what I meant, Bruce. You know why I'm taking care of you? Why I took you under my custody?"
Bruce shook his head.
"I made a promise. A promise I intend to keep."
"What was it?" Jim smiled.
"I promised to keep you safe. I promised I would look after you and make sure you went on alright. I promised that I would take care of you, and continue on his responsibility."
Bruce looked down. "You promised Alfred?"
Jim smiled again. "Yes. I promised Alfred. It seems I have pretty big shoes to fill. But, you know. I think we'll get along. Hey. We have a one hundred percent rate on surviving bad days, so I think that's pretty good." Bruce smiled at that.
"We'll just have to see where this takes us, huh?" Jim looked at Bruce for approval. This was it. This was the moment that defined the rest of their lives.
"Yeah. We'll just have to see," Bruce said with finality. Jim took a breath for what felt like the first time in ages and then smiled a big smile. A bright, bold smile, that held on throughout the day, even as it began to rain when the walked home.
Just like the twelve, rainy blocks home, Jim and Bruce still had a long road ahead. They, however, would walk the journey together, their newfound friendship forged through fire, with much more fire to come.
A/N: Thanks you for reading! As always, feel free to follow, favorite, PM, or review us! Make sure to check out our other stories! Thanks!
~G