Chapter 2

Gotham was slowly returning to normal daily life. Ferries and bridges had been thoroughly checked once again for any signs of explosives, the roads had been cleared. With the city short of its biggest hospital, the other were overcrowded, but the personnel was doing their best to accommodate, since that situation wasn't going to change anytime soon.

During the two weeks that passed since his meeting with Batman, Jim saw him twice, each time on the rooftop of his house. While it wasn't exactly safe for either of them, Gordon had to admit that his people were unlikely to think Batman would have the nerve to come this close to the Commissioner after his betrayal.

The police managed to catch three of Joker's men Batman provided info about. After a week of hunting, which, if Jim had to be honest, wasn't too scrupulous due to other necessary matters to handle, one of the two missing criminals was found tied before the entrance to the police headquarters. There was no note attached, but the style left little space to wonder who was responsible for this delivery. While Gordon was worried this kind of behaviour could provoke questions about Batman's motivations, his people just locked the guy and didn't intend to dig too much in this case.

"Joker must have pissed him too, sir," Stephens shrugged and went about his duties.

When two days later Batman came to his rooftop again to inform him that the last of their wanted men had been found dead, Gordon told him not to get close to the police. His people were happy to lock any of Joker's men, but they would be just as eager to catch the masked vigilante.

Batman acknowledged his words, but made no promises before he disappeared into the night.

Of course, in Gotham returning back to normal meant a grand scale robbery or a hostage situation roughly once in a month, just to keep the police forces always ready to react, or so Jim thought on Thursday evening as he followed his men to the bank after they got an emergency call.

When they arrived, there were shots to be heard inside and that was enough for the SWAT team to react without trying to get in touch with the criminals. Once they got to the main hall, they found five bank workers and two security guards along with three unconscious captors.

Two more were on the staircase, engaged in a fight with a familiar looking vigilante.

Seeing that the police arrived, Batman pushed the last standing criminal towards the nearest cops and used a grapple to pull himself to the storey above them.

"He's going on the parking!"

As much as Jim hated it, he had in his team men younger and faster than him. He heard first shots fired when he was still one flight of stairs behind them. When he reached the parking, more shots rang before he could order his men to catch the vigilante instead of shooting at him.

Jim saw Batman dodge in what looked from the distance like an ungraceful tumble. He rolled, took cover behind the nearest car, then he was up and running again until he reached the end of the roof and jumped.

"We've got him!" Someone yelled behind the commissioner. "It's a dead end there!"

It wasn't, not for Batman, but Gordon saw it fit to intervene before his people got too enthusiastic about chasing the vigilante.

"Secure the place, Montoya, make sure the hostages are safe and taken care of. Search the whole place, we need to be sure none of the attackers is hiding somewhere in the building," Gordon barked orders as he reached for his radio. "Stephens, send whoever you can spare after Batman." This was all the head start he could give his masked partner, one that would not be questioned. It was true that their priority was to make sure the hostages received any attention they could need and that they could not leave the caught criminals unattended.

By the time they were done with everything and Jim could finally head home, he was ready to drop dead. His men didn't get Batman, didn't even see him leave, so the patrols were sent in blind search that turned fruitless.

Despite his weariness, there was one thing Jim felt like checking before going to sleep. It was a long shot, but one he needed to try if he was to rest tonight. It seemed foolish, but at the same time, he felt that if there was one place where Batman would go if he had been injured and unable to return to his hiding, it would be the roof of his house. Jim wasn't really sure where he got that idea from, but for his own sake, he needed to make sure Batman wasn't bleeding out on his very doorstep. He had no means to contact the vigilante, just to make sure none of the bullets had hit him, but this was the one place he could check.

He wasn't wrong. There was a black spot in the shadow that moved ever so slightly as Gordon opened the doors, the movement itself visible only because Jim knew exactly where to look.

"Will you believe me now?" he couldn't help but hiss. "I told you not to engage in police operations! I told you they would shoot!"

"I'm not shot," Batman growled, but a painful hiss escaped his lips when he straightened and came forward. "Just hit a sore spot," he added somewhat reluctantly.

Gordon didn't miss the hand pressed a little below his stomach.

"Yeah," he snorted, anger still boiling. "Just shot there last month."

"Leave it, Gordon." Now the vigilante was visibly irritated too. "I know what I'm doing and I did what I had to do. The hostages are safe."

"And you have half of the cops going for your head, again," Jim snapped. "I can't do a damn thing about it."

"I don't want you to."

During his twenty six years of service, Jim Gordon had seen enough hot headed boys beginning their work, with their heads full of idealism and hope to change Gotham for the better. The level-headed ones were usually quick to learn what they could and could not do. The weak became corrupted. The idealists either lost their faith and quitted or ended up dead.

Until now, what the man playing vigilante in Gotham had been doing was not Jim's responsibility. Yes, he chose to trust his unusual partner and their cooperation brought tangible effects. Batman seemed to always have a plan and he was ridiculously well-equipped with technology police couldn't even dream of – reasons why most of his co-workers turned a blind eye to the vigilante at the crime scenes.

But now? Jim would be damned if he stood by and let that grieving man take the worst burnt that could cost him too much too easily.

"If you don't act more careful and keep away when it's too crowded, we will have to stop doing this at all."

It was hard to see emotions under the cowl, but Jim had grown accustomed to reading what little he could see. The firm set of his jaw, the tension in his posture, the slight slump of his shoulders when the last words hit.

"Listen. We killed Batman. You and I, and the decision we made. That's enough. I won't have you killed as well, son."

Batman shot his head up and his eyes went so wide that despite the seriousness of the situation Jim had to chuckle.

"What? I figure you must be younger than I am, with all the stunts I see you pull," he offered, wondering why his words struck so hard.

Batman let out a non-committal grunt. Not in a talkative mood, then.

"Listen. My son keeps asking about you," Jim said suddenly, not really sure why he decided to share that bit. "He keeps asking if I'm working with you. I really don't want to come back home and tell him that my men managed to shoot you down."

That seemed to throw Batman off even more. He stayed silent for a long moment, his laboured breathing audible in the silence of the night. "You're not responsible for the risks I take," he growled finally.

Jim held his gaze steady. "Yes, I am. I agreed to lie and frame you a murderer." When that didn't provoke any kind of response, he asked. "What were you doing here anyway?"

"Just waiting for things to quiet a bit," there was what seemed like a moment of hesitation before the vigilante replied. "I'll try not to get spotted next time."

When Jim blinked, the Bat was gone.

xxx

Once Bruce went out as Batman again, there was no stopping him. In all honesty, Alfred didn't intend to. He could see that while the young man returned exhausted and sometimes limping when he overexerted his still healing knee, he was clearly more at peace afterwards. If anything, he slept better.

Bruce was careful, at least for now. For once, and Alfred was immensely grateful for it, he seemed to be fully aware of his limitations and of the additional threat to his night escapades. Batman's status had shifted from a vigilante the cops tolerated or ignored to a murderer they were adamant to catch. For that reason Bruce decided to return to his previous suit, which was heavier but provided him with better protection against bullets. His latest one was partly destroyed anyway and Bruce hadn't got new parts from Lucius Fox yet.

After Batman's first time out, Alfred promised Bruce he would not spend nights waiting for him to return home, and he didn't. Batman had so far stayed away from the main police forces, dealing with muggers and some minor drug dealers. Still, Alfred couldn't help but sleep with one eye open and the doors to his room ajar, so he was awake the moment Bruce entered the penthouse, especially since the younger man wasn't exactly silent.

Alfred listened. He expected Bruce to take a shower, perhaps drink some tea left for him in a thermos, then go to sleep. So when he heard some not too graceful rampaging and saw the light coming from the kitchen area, he decided to check things out, just in case. As much as he hoped Bruce would have called ahead if there was an emergency, it wouldn't hurt to see for himself.

Bruce was half sitting, half slipping from the kitchen chair, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. His pained face had a sickly greenish pallor and Alfred's heart skipped a beat when he saw a kitchen towel pressed to his stomach. Not this again...

"I'm fine," Bruce gasped when he heard the butler and pulled himself up to sit straight.

"Clearly." Alfred leaned over him and pried his hands off his belly, relieved to see that the towel was not bloodied, just cold and wet. "Then prey tell me, sir, why are you clinging to frozen carrots?" Without waiting for reply, he pulled up Bruce's t-shirt to inspect the damage.

The answer came in form of a hematoma a little to the left from the fresh shot scar. The wound was healed enough not to reopen, but Alfred knew that the muscles around were far from regenerated and the whole area was still tender; Bruce was barely back to more strenuous activities and he still complained about not being in his best form.

Alfred didn't really need to ask any more questions. Batman was shot at again and while this time the suit had stopped the bullet, the impact still left its mark, most likely impeding the recovery.

"Couldn't find the pack," Bruce muttered and pressed the carrots back to the violent bruising. "I told you not to wait up for me."

"I didn't. But you're messing with my kitchen again and it's not for a midnight snack."

"It's past midnight," the younger man pointed out and cracked a smile that looked more like a wince. "And I'd rather not eat at the moment."

Seeing that while Bruce didn't require help, he clearly needed some time to numb the pain before retiring for the night, the butler put the kettle on. The younger man looked exhausted and cold in his damp t-shirt, so Alfred brought him a thick dressing gown while he waited for the water to boil.

"What was it this time? More of Joker's men?" he asked while helping his employer dress.

"SWAT team, in fact." Bruce muttered.

That made Alfred pause. "If every meeting with Gordon's forces is to end like this or worse, this whole Batman thing cannot continue like nothing happened, master Wayne," he said firmly. "You can't just jump back to what you were doing before. You rattled the mob, sir, and that's changing this city for the better, but we're talking about the entire police force here."

Bruce surprised him with his answer. "I know," he winced and leaned back, pressing the carrots to the bruising again. "Gordon threatened to stop working with me." There was a hint of bewilderment in his voice, as if the notion itself was too unbelievable to be taken seriously.

Alfred wasn't surprised. Commissioner Gordon was a decent man and framing Batman for murder could not have been easy. "You can't really blame him, sir."

"Gotham needs a hero with a face and that's Dent," Bruce didn't really bother to hide his contempt for the idea. He looked up. "But what Gotham also needs is a reminder that someone is still watching over this city. Batman is not done yet."

Looking at Bruce's face, laced with pain but determined nonetheless, Alfred felt like they should have had this conversation earlier, before Batman started going out again. Before something like this happened.

"That's true. Batman shook this city out of slumber, sir, but things have changed. Gotham needed to see there is still hope for a change and you ensured that. But this city is too big for one man to handle, even Batman. You've set things in motion. Now you need to let the police act. They should be the ones enforcing law and order in the city, not Batman."

"It will take time for Gordon to clear the police of all the corrupted cops," retorted Bruce. "Besides, I have better equipment."

"Then perhaps it's time for Bruce Wayne to take some initiative instead, sir," suggested Alfred. Bruce jerked, clearly to oppose, but instead of saying something, he just stared at the butler, intrigued. "Not all the fighting needs to be done with fists. Dent's act cleared the streets, you said so yourself. The mob has had their claws and fangs filed. And you have the resources, master Wayne. Perhaps in long term it would be better to ensure our police is well equipped instead of doing everything yourself as Batman."

Bruce pondered at his words for a long moment. "Perhaps you're right," he said at last and stood up. "I think it's time to invite Mr Fox over for dinner."

Alfred shot him a concerned glance. "Are you feeling this unwell, sir?"

"What?" Bruce seemed perplexed for a second. "No, I'm fine. I'm seeing him in the office tomorrow anyway," he dropped the carrots into a bowl Alfred placed for him. "But if Wayne Enterprises is going to engage with the police, we need to talk this through first. It would be unusual if you went to the tower with me, and we can hardly discuss these matters in a restaurant," he smirked. His mocking smile softened, making Alfred realise he didn't manage to hide his surprise completely. "Unlike Fox, you are more familiar with what I actually do on daily basis, including everything in the bunker. Perhaps you're right and between the three of us we can figure out what could be shared to support the police without risking equipment falling into wrong hands."

Alfred smiled and nodded as he put the carrots into the fridge. Overseeing the technical details of Bruce's plans, coming up with excuses and cover stories for young Wayne's antics was the aspect of the whole Batman business he usually enjoyed. It didn't exactly fit his job description, but thirty years of experience in running the Wayne Manor combined with navigating Gotham's elites and his time in secret service gave him enough qualifications for whatever background help Batman required. This would just be another strategy to work on.

"Very well, sir. But now I suggest you get some sleep, you have a meeting at ten thirty tomorrow. I'm sure Mr Fox will appreciate if you're actually awake this time."

"Yeah, probably."