Work Text:
The wind was sharp, ruthlessly cold, cutting through the lairs of shirt, jacket and overcoat and stabbing at the skin like needles. Gotham was quiet, laid out before him. Gordon breathed in the fresh air–as fresh as you can get in Gotham.
“You're too close to the edge,” a voice said, startling him only slightly. Over the years of this, he had kind of gotten used to it but never completely.
“And you,” Gordon turned to face the Dark Knight, “are going to give me a heart attack one day."
Batman grunted. Sighing, Gordon offered him the case file. With his usual grace, Batman stepped forward, his cape flowing behind him in the strong wind and grabbed it. Batman started scanning through the document. Gordon stayed quiet, giving the man time.
“Where's Robin?” Gordon asked lightly when Batman closed the file.
“Home,” a swirl of cape, Batman gone. Gordon sighed again, Bat and his obsession with disappearing.
Gordon looked out to the city. Batman and other vigilantes kept it safe–safer than usual.
Batman. The symbol of fear and hope.
Gordon knew the man for years now. It hadn't been a smooth sail. There had been bumps and distrust. Uncertainty. You can't really be certain with a man that dressed up as a bat and fought criminals under a cowl with pointy ears.
But after working beside the man, Gordon was certain of one thing if not more– he trusted Batman. More than most of his colleagues, maybe even more than himself.
.
Gordon sighed(he sighed a lot honestly, you can't blame him, he was the commissioner and the one to deal with Batman, that ought to make you sigh a lot), looking around the gala, seeing his lieutenant, detective, captains get scrutinized by Gotham elite. Why is it you ask?
Okay, it was a fund raiser for GCPD gala and GCPD officers there had never been to a gala before. The ones here were among his most trusted– they knew how to deal with criminals and rogues but Gotham elite? That's another kind of nightmare.
Gordon joined in one of the conversations, skillfully cutting off one of the elite's backhanded compliment to one of his men. Across the room, Bruce Wayne was doing the same– sliding from conversation to conversation, saving his men from the vulture-like elites who were ready to feast on their misery and talk about how GCPD can't even handle a gala.
Bruce Wayne, Batman. Gordon realized it long ago, back when Dick Greyson was Robin(really, showing off the same moves in your civilian and vigilante identity was not a smart move, Dick). It used to baffle him. He was in denial for about a year. However, he can see it.
He can see Bruce Wayne being Batman, as unbelievable as it sounded.
Gordon knew Bruce. Knew him long before either the vigilante or playboy was in action. He knew the trembling kid sitting in the car after witnessing his parent's death. He knew the quiet teen that attended Gotham academy– okay, knowing might be an overstatement, but he saw the kid. Saw him grow into a teen, then into the persona he displayed today.
Bruce Wayne might act like an idiot, but he was far from one(okay, about his emotions, he might be). He was Batman for crying out loud. He also was Brucie Wayne– but that was a perfectly created mask. An act. A distraction.
Who was Bruce Wayne under that distraction? Under that cowl?
Tim Drake was talking in a corner, playing the same role as Gordon and Bruce. Dick Greyson was there too, so was Damian, Cassandra and Duke, all for the same reason. Gordon had requested Bruce to bring as much help as possible, so Bruce spammed the party with all of his kids. He even brought Stephanie Brown, who evidently had no restraint and her interaction with the elites were… amusing to say the least.
Bruce was checking on his kids once in a while and when he did that, Gordon found himself watching. Because who didn't like to see how a father's demeanor softened for his kids?
Gordon saw it, noticed it every time. How Bruce's perfect mask cracked when he was around his kids– both as Batman and Brucie. His kids brought out the real Bruce Wayne, the man under the act.
And it was precious. It showed how the love for his kids was genuine. It was beautiful.
“Thanks, Bruce,” Gordon smiled at Bruce.
“Happy to help,” Bruce gave him one of his Brucie-but-not-sp-Brucie smiles. Bruce's cattle of children surrounded him a second later.
Smiling fondly at the sight, Gordon addressed the kids.
“Sorry for roping y'all into this as well,” he said.
“No worries, Commissioner!” Dick gave him a two finger salute. Tim nodded.
“It was fun,” Stephanie grinned.
“Ah, you surely had fun,” Gordon shared a smile with her.
“I hope it wasn't too much,” he then turned to Cassandra who shook her head.
“It was okay,” she said. Gordon slightly ruffled her hair, she smiled, leaning into the touch.
Bruce's kids howled away as quickly as they had surrounded their father. Gordon caught Bruce staring fondly at his kids’ retreating forms.
“They're good kids,” Gordon commented with a smile.
“Yeah,” Bruce said, his voice raw and genuine. Gordon gave the younger man a pat on the shoulder. Bruce didn't comment, didn't face away, didn't try to hide the raw love on his face for his kids. In a way, he was trusting Gordon. Trusting him enough to let him see this part of himself. Gordon appreciated it. He clasped his hand on the other man's shoulder, providing silent support.
.
“Batman!” Gordon exclaimed, his gun pointed at the man who was hailed as Gotham's protector. Batman slowly stood up and turned to him, away from the limp body of a criminal.
“Gordon,” Batman grunted, his voice unrecognizable. Heavy with grief and loss. Blood dripped from his hand and stained the road below.
Gordon glanced at the criminal who was breathing shallowly.
“Step aside,” Gordon commanded. Batman complied, stepping aside in the shadow, almost mixing in it as if he wished the shadow would shallow him whole.
Another officer ran to the criminal and hoisted him back to the car. He needed medical attantion right away.
“I'll deal with Batman,” Gordon told the other officer, “Go.”
The officer gave him a worried look.
“I'll be okay,” Gordon assured, “Go.”
The car drove away, leaving two men in the silence of the alleyway. Gordon lowered his gun.
“Batman.”
A quiet grunt followed from the darkness. It was surprising the man hadn't already ditched him and left him alone to speak with himself.
“You should take a break,” Gordon said.
No sound. Gordon wondered if Batman had silently ditched him.
“Look, you go around beating criminals this way–” Gordon flickered a hand at where the unconscious criminal was, now just stains of blood, “–you put us in a very different position. Besides, I think you really need to take a few days off from all the blood and violence.”
Batman stayed quiet. If Gordon's eyes hadn't adapted to the dark and let him see the tall figure, he would've thought he was gone. Batman was staring at the ground blankly.
Gordon felt bad. It hadn't been long since Jason Todd died. And Bruce Wayne was absolutely wrecked. So was Batman. Especially, Batman.
He had become ruthless, uncaring of how much damage caused, reckless. So unlike the usual cool headed calculated Batman Gordon and Gotham was used to seeing. It was as if someone pulled all the restraints that were keeping the roar within the Bat tamed.
If the Bat kept his unrestrained behaviour up, sooner or later he'd end up killing someone– crossing the line he had vowed to not. And that– that'd be the end of Batman. End of the legend. End of the protector of Gotham, the Dark Knight.
GCPD would need to arrest him. It'd get messy. It might get out of control. Someone might shoot him. These days, Gordon felt like maybe that was what Batman wanted– someone to shoot him, kill him, send him to his kid.
It was unfair. But Batman, Bruce Wayne was a grieving father. Gordon had not lost his child, he couldn't imagine the pain. However he knew it would be maddening.
“Batman,” Gordon called, softer this time. Batman's figure stayed stoic. Gordon stepped closer. The Dark Knight didn't move.
Gordon put his gun back in the holestar and got a handkerchief. He offered it to Batman but the man just stared hollowly as if he didn't get why he was being offered a handkerchief.
And hell, that hurt. Gulping hard, Gordon slowly wiped the blood away from Batman's face.
Batman let him, staying still like a robot. Gordon could see the tension on his shoulders and clenched jaw. His throat was tight, lips dry.
“They wouldn't want you to be dead.” Gordon said, pocketing the bloody handkerchief. Dick needed him. Alfred needed him. Heck, Gordon needed him to live.
Batman's lips parted but no words came out. At that proximity, Gordon could see the tremble in them. Gordon didn't know what to say or do. It was Batman for crying out loud. The ever formidable, ever strong presence, trembling. A shiver ran through Bat's entire body and before Gordon could do anything– Batman fell.
Gordon slowed the fall, Batman's knees hit the ground with a dull thud.
“Batman!?” Gordon said, concerned, searching for injuries under the cape. The darkness surrounding them wasn't helping. Batman's lips trembled again, his hands were also shaking. He was hyperventilating. He was having a panic attack.
Fuck, Batman was having a panic attack.
“Breath, Batman,” Gordon helped him sit right and cupped his face, making him look at him.
“Follow my breathing,” he instructed, “Inhale.”
Batman complied like an empty robot. Gordon tried not to think about it.
“Exhale.”
A lot of minutes of inhaling and exhaling later, Batman was seated against the wall, Gordon's jacket draped over his shoulders. He was clutching it, holding it tight around him like a lifeline. Gordon was eerily reminded of the sight from decades ago– of the young eleven year old that just witnessed his parents’ murder. Batman's lips were trembling in the same way as he hung his head low to hide it from him.
Gordon stayed plastered to his side. His hand resting on the Bat's shoulder, gentle and firm, sometimes rubbing his back in circular motion.
“I was so close,” Batman whispered after several attempts, his voice wavering, young and raw. Gordon looked at him.
“Just a few feets,” Batman continued, “yet… yet I couldn't–”
God, now he was crying.
Gordon gently tugged at Batman's neck, guiding the taller man's head till it was pressed against his chest. Batman let him. Batman curled up and cried against his chest. The cowl was uncomfortable but Gordon didn't want to risk another panic attack by trying to remove it. He just cradled the younger man, trying to comfort him. But how did one comfort someone who had just lost a kid? Did any comfort exist for someone who lost a kid?
Gordon held onto Batman. He held onto Bruce. He held onto the kid he knew was hurting beyond his imagination. He held onto him.
Gordon had accompanied Batman to the Batmobile and trusted its autopilot to take Bruce back. The next day, Batman wasn't patrolling. Gordon waited two days for good measures before going to check on Bruce.
Wayne's trusted butler who basically raised Bruce, Alfred Pennyworth, opened the door. Alfred's eyes shone with pleasant surprise at the sight of him.
“Good morning, Commissioner,” he said in a professional voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” Gordon nodded to the elder man, “Is Bruce home? I wanted to check on him.”
“Yes, Master Bruce is home,” Alfred stepped aside to let Gordon enter. He closed the door behind Gordon.
“Please, follow me,” Alfred instructed, heading down the hall. He was led to one of the ridiculously many numbers of drawing rooms. Alfred told him to kindly wait for a while before disappearing. Gordon looked around, taking in the decor that was definitely above his pay grade. He wasn't particularly interested in them, just passing time and checking, assessing.
Bruce came about a few minutes later. The door opened, drawing Gordon's attention. He saw the younger man standing still on the doorway.
“Hello,” Gordon offered him a smile, taking notice of the redness by his eyes and the clearly hasty attempt of taming his messed up hair.
“Commissioner,” Bruce said, voice raspy. Then hastily changed his tone, half-heartedly slipping into his Brucie persona, “Gordon, What a surprise!”
Gordon sighed mentally. Bruce didn't need to keep up Brucie's persona, not with him. Not when he was grieving.
Bruce walked over to him, hand outstretched. Gordon gave him a light shake, noticing the roughness of his hands. Usually, Bruce's hands were soft which probably took a lot of care because Batman style training and fighting was ought to leave roughness. But Brucie Wayne's hands weren't supposed to be rough. They were supposed to be soft, like they had never seen a slightly bad day. He was probably neglecting to do it now.
Bruce sat down beside him, a smile–fake smile–plastered on his face.
“Here,” Gordon handed him a neat packet of tea, “It's a herbal blend, I find it soothing.”
Bruce thanked him, his eyes softening a bit as he took the packet before asking Alfred to brew some tea with it. Alfred took the packet and disappeared.
Bruce turned back to him, his eyes shining forcefully.
“So, what brought you today?” he asked lightly.
“Thought I'd check on you,” Gordon said truthfully, “I was worried.”
Bruce tilted head, “I'm okay.”
“You don't have to do that,” Gordon said softly. Bruce blinked at him confusedly.
“You don't have to act all okay.”
Bruce's smile faltered.
“I'm okay,” he said it like a mantra. Gordon rested a hand on his shoulder.
“You see, the other day,” he said conversationally, “I saw another friend grieving over their kid.”
Bruce's jaw clenched. Gordon didn't mention the ‘friend’ was Batman, Bruce knew he meant Batman.
“It made me realize how hard it must be,” Gordon continued, “I can't imagine how it might feel like… I can't imagine living in a world without Babs. So one father to another, Bruce, you don't have to act like you're fine.”
Bruce's eyes glistened with tears but he gave a small smile that was genuine, soft and sad. He then looked down as the tear made its way down his cheek. Gordon again, slowly warped his arms around the other man. Bruce leaned into the touch, resting his head on Gordon's shoulder and letting tears fall silently. It was familiar. Comforting was one the things he could do with his experience of parenthood.
They stayed like that until Alfred came up with tea. They talked over things. Bruce talked about Jason. Talked a lot about him. Laughed, cried, smiled, sometimes fondly, sometimes sadly, while telling the tales. His voice cracked several times. He went silent several times. Stopped in the middle of one story and skipped it. But they talked. He talked. Gordon listened, sometimes offering some words or smiles– whatever needed.
When going back, Alfred personally thanked him. Gordon gave him a smile.
“Take care of him.”
Gordon has watched the Bat for years. Get back on his feet after every fall. Saw the Robins change. Saw another Robin spawn after Jason's death, saw Red Hood debut, saw Damian Wayne's Robin, saw Bruce disappear and Dick take over as Batman, saw Bruce come back.
He saw a lot of things. He saw how Bruce cared. How his kids cared. He noticed the little things like Batman keeping snacks on him for the Robins. Like, Batman letting kids hide under his cape on a particularly chilly day. Like, keeping a hairband on him for Orphan or Spoiler– whoever needed.
Shoot, once Batman and Orphan were working with him, both the elder men noticed Orphan becoming uncomfortable at one point. Batman asked her lightly and she whispered something into his ear. Batman, without losing a beat, nodded understandingly and just handed her a tampon from his utility belt. She was exempt from any heavy fighting that night.
He also noticed things about Bruce. How he was protective over his kids. How he'd proudly claim his children as his. How he'd stand against anyone who dared to make his kids uncomfortable– in crime fighting and galas alike. Not just his kids– any kid in the gala getting uncomfortable because of someone? getting their space evaded? Bruce Wayne spawned and drew attention to himself.
Noticing him over the years, Gordon had come to realize that was who Bruce was under the cowl, behind that distraction– not Batman, not Brucie, but Bruce, the man under all that layer of act– he was a protector, a defender of those who need it, a helper, a human.
And Gordon loved that about him.