A/N: Accidently posted this as the second chapter to These Twists and Turns, not this fic. Oops. Sorry for everyone who got the notification by mistake. Anyway, here's some Jim Gordon perspective! I love Jim, and I don't write him nearly enough. Also, Birds of Prey! And Gotham Central!
Jim Gordon hears about the new Spoiler, and he pauses, his coffee cup halfway to his lips and a frown on his face. Across the room, he sees that Harvey is scowling as he listens to the report.
"No respect for the damn dead," Harvey growls when Jim approaches him. "What right does that girl have to dress up like that? That kid got murdered trying to save the whole fucking city and some newbie just decides to flaunt the name around." Harvey slams his paperwork on top of his desk, scowling.
"Have you talked to Renee?" Jim asks, quietly. "Maybe she knows more about this."
"Like she'd tell us." Renee is sort of a sore point for Harvey—Renee left the force just before Harvey had returned, torn up with grief and guilt over Crispus Allen's death. Jim lost track of her after that—Hub City was a difficult place to keep track of someone in.
But then the Question had come to Gotham, and Jim and Harvey had heard her speak, and there had been no mistaking it. Renee had come home. But she still was distant from Harvey, her old partner, and Harvey was bitter about that—he missed his old friend, who had barely spoken to him since her return. Jim had a bit more luck—the Question was a member of the Birds of Prey, and he'd gone to visit Barbara and stumbled on a meeting often enough.
"Try it," Jim says. "We owe the boy that much."
Jim goes into his office, nodding to Maggie Sawyer as he passes her. He closes the door and the blinds, and slumps in his chair.
From the depths of his desk, he retrieves the file for Arthur Brown Junior.
Three photographs grin up at him from the file—a school portrait, a candid of Spoiler, and a newspaper photographer's prize shot of Robin.
Jim had gone to the funeral. He had read the articles about child-endangerment, and how Batman had no right to send a child out into the streets of Gotham, he had seen the tears on Crystal Brown's face as she buried her son.
He had met Spoiler during No Man's Land—a time so long ago that people outside of Gotham had forgotten it, but it had marked all of the survivors, making sure that they would always remember. Batgirl had risen during that time—his daughter had created a legacy for herself, and had grown into the role of mentor as well as hero. Huntress had softened, switching from vengeance driven vigilantism to protection and heroism. Sarah had died, protecting the children of Gotham from the Joker.
Spoiler had been Batgirl's partner during No Man's Land, translating for her and joking, always eager to please and help. Arthur Brown had been one of Barbara's assistants, sleeping on her couch and guarding the door. The boy's eyes were always surrounded with dark circles, and when asked about his family, he claimed that getting his mother out of Gotham was all that had mattered.
Batman hadn't sent a child out onto the streets of Gotham—Gotham had swallowed this child up, body and soul, demanding everything of him before chewing him up and spitting him out, leaving him dead at the Black Masks's hand.
Jim sighs, and goes to go see his daughter.
The Clock Tower has a homey feel lately that it had lacked for years, and that brings a smile to Jim's face. His girl deserves that much, and now she has it, even if it isn't the family or the career that Jim had used to wish for her.
A girlfriend who's the ex-wife of a superhero, who happens to be a superhero herself, is one thing. But his daughter's extended family also includes a former Mafia heiress, the world's best fighter, a former police woman, a time travelling pilot from the 1950s, and one of his subordinate's fiancés (not that, officially speaking, he knows about the last one.)
He is very good at ignoring the identities of superheroes. Giving Batman's propensity for dramatics, he has to be.
He knocks on the door, and waits.
The door is opened, and he pauses, surprised that he doesn't recognize the opener. The girl standing on the other side of the door has long blond hair, and is wearing a loosely knit navy sweater over a pair of black jeans. Her eyes are dark blue, and her skin is lightly tanned and peppered with freckles. Something about her is familiar to Jim, but he can't figure it out for the life of him.
"Is Babs in?" He asks the girl, who is openly staring at him. Clearly, she recognizes him, meaning she has one up on him.
Then he realizes that this is probably Spoiler—this is the girl he is here to discuss.
"Yeah," the girl's voice is fairly low, but sweet. She grins at him, clearly uncertain. "Uh, follow me?"
Jim follows her into the tower. Cassandra is sprawled on the couch, playing a video game with Helena, and they seem to find the whole thing hilarious, judging on their commentary about the bad assassination strategies and historical inaccuracies.
Renee is talking to Babs, and she smiles at him when she sees his approach.
"Commissioner," she says, and Jim misses seeing her around the office every day, even if he knew it was probably for the best.
"Renee, I've told you, unless you're taking your job back, it's Jim," he smiles and shakes her hand, clasping her firmly on the shoulder.
Renee laughs, and grabs the blond girl. "C'mon, Steph. Let's go make sure our girls don't kill each other." The girl—Steph—laughs, tossing her hair, and heads towards the couches, where she pecks Cassandra on the cheek before sitting next to her.
"Hi Dad," Babs says, "Want to talk in private, or we good out here?"
"Private's probably a good idea," Jim replies, his eyes lingering on Steph.
They go into Babs's console room—a maze of computers and hard drives, with a bulletin board with dozens of USB drives hanging from pins.
"Is this about Spoiler?" Babs asks, after Jim sits down in the swivel chair.
"Yes," Jim says. There is no point in beating around the bush, after all. They know each other too well.
"Don't worry about it," Babs says. "It's… it's not what you think."
"So it's not a girl who doesn't know what she's doing taking a costume from a boy who died trying to save the city?" Jim raises an eyebrow.
"No. It's not that at all. Stephanie Brown knows exactly what she's doing, and she's not stealing anything from anyone, dead or alive."
"Brown?"
"Yes."
Jim massages his temples. "Is this another weird superhero thing?" He asks, plaintively. His life used to be simple.
"Sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that."
"Does Crystal know?"
"Yes."
Jim sighs, shoving aside his concerns. He doesn't understand, not really, but he trusts Babs—she might lie to him, lie to him frequently and well enough that it makes him go over everything she ever told him as a child, but not about this.
He leaves the console room, and he sees Steph again, throwing her arms in the air to cheer for the video game.
Jim freezes, seeing the familiar web of scars on her arms.
He had seen the pictures of Arthur Brown's autopsy—when the boy had been ousted as Robin postmortem, they had been leaked as well. Black Mask had done a number on the boy.
And the exact scar pattern was there, on the girl's arms.
Jim crosses the room, and touches Stephanie on the shoulder.
"Good luck out there, girl," he says to her, voice rough, and he smiles at her.
He goes back to the office, opens his private copy of the file again, and quietly crosses out all of the "hims" and "hes" as he drinks his coffee.