James didn't like taking days off. In fact, he often despised them. Yes, it meant that he could spend time with his family. But not working? Not being able to move around and get things done? In all honesty, James had always been like this, growing up. His time in the service had probably cemented that mindset, and it had always been something that he could rely on. Then Chicago happened. Years of work, credibility, informants. The kind of stuff any detective would kill for. All of it gone, in an instant.

Maybe that's why he was already up at 5 A.M., long before Barb and the kids were due to wake up. Even if it was his day off, it was better to be safe than sorry. So the first thing that James did wasn't to make himself a cup of coffee, nor was it to check on the morning paper. Instead, the first thing that James did was to disassemble and clean both his service pistol and his backup piece.

Barb had warned him, though. How the long nights weren't worth it. How they were making ends meet just fine. James knew it, she did too. But that wasn't why he would always be coming home late, to a quiet house and cold dinner waiting for him on the stove.

It was almost pathetic, how he used the excuse of 'overtime' to make up for the fact that he could just never sleep. Nor could he relax. James had tried to work on it, near the end. But Chicago had gotten to him when his guard was down, and now it was as if his senses were in overdrive. He couldn't take a break, not now. Not again.

Especially since it was clear that in Gotham, letting your guard down meant either getting killed, or getting discredited. James couldn't afford to do either. Not with his kids' lives at stake.

Gotham PD wasn't exactly one for 'regulations', James had come to learn. They didn't care if cops went home with their guns, nor did they bother about paperwork for the 'off duty incidents' as James kept hearing about, at least the ones that people actually reported. That was the scary part.

There were always small 'incidents' that some cops liked to brag about. Whether it be the common beat cop, or the detectives that James hadn't gotten a chance to formally introduce himself to, someone always had a story to share.

They were nearly mugged, or they just so happened to come across a drug dealer making a score, and had managed to put the criminal away before things got worse. Always with a wink and a smile. Seems anyone could get away with it, especially when they were probably lining their pockets with ill-gotten gains, or making connections to keep themselves afloat when push came to shove.

James couldn't really name names, not when his job was barely hanging on by threads themselves. Between Loeb keeping a close eye on him, and the team's own misses when it came to this 'Bat' person, things were starting to wear a little thin.

Christ, the sun barely starting to rise and James was already wanting to just fall back into bed. But needs came before wants, sometimes. James would reassemble his guns, put one of them back in his safe, and go into the kitchen.

He didn't exactly need coffee to function. Sometimes the nerves kept him up more than anything. But considering Barb was the one corralling a scarily intelligent thirteen-year-old, and a very needy one-year-old, James was sure that she would appreciate a fresh pot. It wasn't long until the smell of cheap coffee was in the air.

He let out a short grunt, realizing that now was as good a time as any to get that paper.

Putting on his robe, he quickly stashed his backup piece just in case, and moved over towards the front door. Their home wasn't as big as their old property, but selling that place, and a bit of help from his brother, had made things a tad easier on his family. Even with all the bad, there was maybe a bit of good to come out of coming back to this hellhole of a city.

James slowly took a step outside, coffee mug in hand, as he looked around. The sun was barely peeking out over the skyscrapers that towered over their home. James let out a quiet sigh, basking in the morning for a moment.

He was still getting used to the city, and it probably showed. Compared to other places, Gotham was just… different. More back alleys than people could count, dark and foreboding structures that had withstood the test of time. Even in newer regions like the one they lived in, James was always aware that there was a chance of things going south. Maybe that was his pessimism speaking, or just his overall experience. Either or, it didn't really matter.

Picking up the paper, something caught James' eye. A magazine, one probably from the other day, had found itself stashed to the side. The kind of tabloid that Barb liked to read and gush about sometimes, even if James didn't care for it. Deciding it would be a good addition to breakfast, he quickly picked up the magazine and went back inside, locking the door behind him.

Tossing the papers onto the table, James checked his watch. Breakfast time. The girls were going to be up soon, and it wouldn't hurt to give them a treat. James quickly got to work, cracking open a few eggs and setting some bacon on a pan. Soon enough, the smell of coffee was replaced with a more enticing bacon and eggs, with a few waffles for Babs to enjoy on the side.

His wife was the first one to stumble into the kitchen, hair frazzled and eyes half open. Not that James blamed her. His son was more of a night owl than her, and even when he could help, he only wanted to be with her. She leaned against James, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

"Morning. Thought today was your day off. Wasn't I supposed to make breakfast?"

"Wanted to get an early start. Pot's fresh." James replied, grinning back at her. She laughed, a quiet rumble, as she leaned against him for another moment. Barb sighed in relief and slowly moved towards said pot.

Babs soon followed her mother, loudly yawning as she stomped into the kitchen. Her own bed hair was probably worse than her mothers, and what looked like the parietal imprint of a book on her cheek. James could only chuckle, quickly pouring Babs a glass of orange juice. He had no real clue where she got her reading and knowledge from, but it certainly wasn't him.

He and Barb certainly weren't stupid, by any means, but Babs was on a whole other level sometimes. The girl could go on and on about one thing or another, be it her homework, that laptop that they had gotten her, or the law books that she was just breezing through. Anything that she could name, she could talk about. Already, James could see she had a bright future ahead of her. Far brighter than where James was heading, at the very least.

But for the moment, he wouldn't bring his own mood down. Placing the glass of orange juice in front of Babs, James playfully ruffled her hair and laid a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Hey kiddo. Got some rest, I hope. Didn't spend all night reading your books again, did ya?"

"Course I didn't. I fell asleep while reading one." She muttered, half lidded eyes looking up at him behind smeared glasses. James chuckled, fishing out his own cloth and placing it in front of Babs.

"Wipe your glasses off and drink your juice. I'll bring you breakfast right now." He told her, getting a short grunt in response. Morning people, the Gordon women were not. But breakfast certainly gave the two more life, even as James set the three of them up with plates.

He was halfway through some eggs and toast when he was about to spot the magazine that he had snagged, Barb already flicking through some of the pages. There was at least one headline that caught his eye, even if James preferred the Gotham Gazette over 'Picture News Magazine'.

Bruce Wayne: The Man Behind the Money

By Vicki Vale

On the cover was Gotham's prodigal son himself. He was waving to a camera, all smiles, charm, and a suit that would have made Loeb jealous. The man prided himself in his appearance, and Wayne, getting caught after hours at some gala, looked more put together than the portly commissioner. A part of James was actually impressed that someone had actually managed to snag an interview with Wayne.

The man was just as of a ghost as he had been, traveling the world, from what James was able to put together. It was impressive, but also surprising. Only a few people had been able to get good pictures of him over the years, rarer so when he had returned home. But the whims of rich people weren't really all that much of a concern to James, not when he had other, real problems to worry about.

However, just as James was about to take another sip of his coffee, he froze. Eyes wide, and he was very thankful that all he could do was curse internally. As Barb was still flipping through the magazine still, a single picture caught his eye. The headline? The same thing.

Giant Bat spotted in Gotham! What You Need to Know

They had done so well in keeping things under wraps, the squad. And now some tabloid magazine had gotten a hold of information that should have just been kept in the squad. James cleared his throat, setting his mug down.

"Barb, can I see that, really quick?" He asked, gesturing towards the magazine. She glanced at him, more awake now, at least.

"Oh, this? I thought this was just 'flashy garbage', as I seem to recall you saying." She shot back, grinning as she offered it to James.

"Maybe. But if they got to talk to Bruce Wayne, it probably has to be worth something, doesn't it?" James told her, chuckling as he rolled his eyes. She wasn't wrong by any means, but that wasn't a concern to him.

He did quickly glance through the article about Wayne. The name Vale rang some bells, but only barely. He knew she was a reporter of some kind, and to have her being stuck with some trashy magazine was a surprise to be sure. Just not the one that he had to be worried about.

The 'Giant Bat' was speculated to be making a nest somewhere in the city, having been spotted by both homeless people and normal folks alike, mostly by Cathedral Square.

"Uh huh. Maybe you should talk to that Jack Ryder fellow. Since it seems that's the article you're reading through." Babs told him, giggling as she took a sip of her drink.

James wasn't sure if now was as good a time as any to sigh and drop his head into his hands. But no, it wasn't. Not with Barb and Babs there to see his reaction. That and, honestly, he was supposed to not be working today. Rumors were just that. Rumors.

But damn it, he knew Cathedral Square. A place where anyone could go and try and find themselves. Either through seeking refuge, or through other means. A good place for anyone to work things out, or to hide. Granted, they hadn't actually confirmed any sightings in the area so they hadn't investigated it, but damn it if a magazine had gotten a lead while they hadn't… James could already hear folks laughing at his team.

Even when he was on a day off, work still found a way to get to James.

James hadn't spent a lot of time around his son, not at least when he started working. He knew it. Barb did too. That wouldn't do, not at this point in Junior's life. So James had decided, after much hesitation, to take his family on a walk.

All they had to do was drop Babs off at school, and then they could explore the city. As much of a hellhole that it could be at times, James was sure that with him to keep an eye on things it would be manageable. Would be. That and Barb wanted to get a look at his old stomping grounds, so of course they had to go.

The skyscrapers had seemingly gotten taller in the years gone by, the people they housed probably getting richer every month. The slums had somehow gotten worse, and James had made a great effort to get out of that area as quickly as he could manage. Not that he wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't take a chance with Barb and Junior.

Eventually, however, they did have to stop. Their car was starting to get low on gas, and James needed to stretch his legs. Eventually they found a good enough spot, and James pulled into one of the pumps.

"I'll be right back." He told Barb, exiting the car and heading towards the station.

As soon as he walked in, however, his gut was screaming at him that something was wrong, even as a dingy little bell indicated his entry.

The store was quiet. Maybe a bit too quiet. No generic music playing in the background, no people eating lunch, and a single cashier at the register, even though it was clear that they had two that were open. He slowly marched up, and another thought came in, one that he shouldn't have brushed off.

There wasn't a gas attendant outside.

By the time he had approached the register, James was already fishing out his wallet, counting out a few bills.

"Could I get twenty on pump five? Oh, and a pack of cigarettes, if you got 'em." James said, already ready to pay what he needed.

"Sorry-uh, sorry sir. The gas pumps aren't working. And the register's out. But you can take the smokes. They're on the house." The woman told him, even as he was ready to set a few bills on the counter.

He raised a single eyebrow, even as the young woman before him quickly fished out a pack and put it on the counter. Giving her a once over told James everything he needed to know. Eyes red and puffy, as if she had just finished crying. Her hands trembled, almost worryingly so. But the biggest thing? Even if her hair did a lot to hide it, a bruise was forming on the side of her head, with her eyes darting down every other moment. But he couldn't do anything, not without risking her, or god forbid Barb and Junior.

"Huh. Thanks, appreciate it." James told her, offering the woman a short nod. He snagged the cigarettes and pocketed them, and turned around. Just as he reached for the door, James turned around, opening his jacket pocket to reveal his badge.

Silently he raised one hand, and pointed down, beneath the counter. Slowly, he raised one finger to his eyes, and then pointed at himself. The woman had clearly understood what he was asking, and barely shook her head, glancing down again. James nodded, and turned around.

Without another word, James pushed the door open, letting the bell ring again, and moved towards a nearby shelf. Moving so that he was kneeling behind it, he quickly knelt down, bringing out his service pistol.

The sound of feet shuffling and scrambling filled the empty store. The woman whimpered, and a man's voice snarled out.

"Damn it, bitch, what took you so long? And why'd you let him walk without payin'? Coulda made this score better."

James peeked out from behind the counter, finally able to get a good look at the offender in question.

Messy clothes, ratty hair. Face pockmarked from what was probably lots of drug use. Most importantly? He had a gun, and he was waving it in the woman's face. The only saving grace was that his back was to him. That made this next part a bit easier.

"Now, get that damn lockbox open. I want everything, and maybe you and that dumbass who tried to be a hero can get out of this alive."

So there had been a gas attendant. Hopefully they were still alive, but James didn't have time to check if they were alright, not now. Slowly he moved out from behind the shelf. The man hadn't heard him, his attention focused on the woman as she fumbled and tried to open up a lockbox, hidden behind the counter, fresh tears on her face.

The two of them so focused on one another, that it took only a moment to bridge the gap between James and the man. He raised his pistol, jamming the barrel into the back of the robber's head. The man froze, his addled and frenzied speech cut off as cool metal was pressed against his skull.

"GCPD. Don't even think about it, pal. Drop the gun, and put your hands on your head."

James didn't want to think about what his tone was like, but threatening was probably the best way to deescalate the situation. The man began to stumble over his own words, throwing the gun he had to the side.

"Hey-hey man. It's cool. We're cool. I'm giving up. I am, I am." The man said, raising his hands to his head.

"On your knees. Now."

Luckily this man wasn't a fool. He had known when he was beaten, and had at least decided to keep things easy. As he went to his knees, James quickly brought out his handcuffs and began to read the man his rights.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you-"

James could only internally sigh, realizing that he would have to call this in, even as the woman had scurried over to a nearby phone. He could feel Barb's eyes on him, and glancing over to her direction showed that she had seen the whole thing.

So much for his day off.

Next Chapter: 20th February