Perfect Timing 20/? FRM (language and really bad jokes)
So. Yeah. I'm totally going to stop whining about writing and actually freaking write. It's this nutty concept I have. In the meantime, I'm actually going to post the rest of what I have done on this because sheesh I suck.
Once, just once, Jim thought as he ran down the alley, it would be nice if it wasn't cold, dark and pouring down rain while he chased a criminal of some stripe down a dark alley. There was no need for his life to look like some action movie. During the day would be fine. Night would be acceptable as long as it was spring. Hell, even a cold, dark night would be fine if it simply stopped pouring down rain. He ducked around the corner, trying to keep up with the man running full tilt towards the fence. Maybe he'd get lucky for once and the suspect wouldn't try to make an escape in the most ridiculous fashion possible.
"Freeze! Gotham PD!" Jim pulled out his gun, blinking to clear the rain from his eyes. "Stop right there, you're under arrest!"
Sure enough the man yelled something, Jim couldn't make out what, then made a leap for the fence. Jim holstered his gun, then jogged down the alley, watching as the man got stuck half way up. It was faintly ridiculous, seeing him hanging there. Jim looked up at him, waiting for the man to stop swearing. "Are you ready to give up or do you want me to leave you hanging there for awhile?" Jim jumped back, dodging as the man spit at him. "Fine, hanging there it is." He stepped back, tacking off his glasses and brushing hair out of his eyes. He heard Stephens' yell of "Jim!" from down the alley and he called back "Down here, we're gonna need a ladder!"
Stephens came trotting down the alley, a look of disbelief on his face as he saw the suspect clutching to the fence. "Are you fucking kidding me? How did he even get that high in the first place?"
"Hell if I know." Jim tipped his head to the side. "I'm glad he dropped his gun, at least he's not taking potshots at us."
"Thank God for small favors." Stephens grabbed his radio and called for more backup, not bothering to disguise the amusement in his voice as he explained exactly why it was that they needed a ladder.
Jim wandered back over to where their suspect was still spitting and cursing and threatening to call unholy vengeance down upon them. "You're really not in the position to make threats right now, you know." He shook his head sadly. "I really don't get why you thought you could make it over the fence."
The man yelled something down, the only intelligible words were fuck and mother and dog. Jim snorted and turned, trying to pinpoint exactly where the gun ended up. He heard a sudden yell and he turned fast. There was a fleeting impression of a dark mass falling and then something hit him and he slammed into the ground, his head smacking the pavement before everything went dark.
There was an incessant beeping and Jim tried to move his arm to smack the alarm. Nothing happened and he tried again. Still nothing. He opened his eyes slowly, slowly realizing that he wasn't in his bedroom. There was a blue glow from monitors and the beeping seemed to be by his head and it was cold and the walls were white. There was a moment of pure panic until his thoughts slowly gelled and he realized he was in the hospital. He left out a low moan. God, his head hurt and his back hurt and it felt like even his eyes hurt.
"Jim? Jim, can you hear me?" That was Phil's voice and Jim tried to turn his head to see him. It was far more difficult than it should be.
"What, what happened?" Jim tried to swallow, his throat was so dry it ached.
"You're in the hospital." Phil turned, filling a glass with water. He reached an arm behind Jim's shoulder, holding him up enough that Jim could take a sip of water.
Jim sipped the water gratefully, struggling not to take a huge swallow. No matter how desperately he wanted that drink, he knew it was better to go slow. "I figured that out, but what happened?"
Phil settled on the edge of the bed, a hand running down Jim's arm. He looked awful, Jim saw. He was unshaven and it looked like he hadn't slept and his face was thinner than usual. "You've been unconscious for almost four days. I wasn't sure," he looked away and his fingers dug into Jim's shoulder for a moment. "I wasn't sure you were going to wake up."
Jim stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "What? Unconscious? What the hell?" He tried to think back, tried to focus on the last thing he remembered. He could see the man on the fence, he remembered something about a gun and then nothing.
"The guy you chased up the fence fell off. He fell right on top of you. From what we could tell, you hit the back of your head first and that caused a subdural hematoma. Luckily, the swelling started to go down last night or you were going to need surgery." Phil skimmed his fingertips down Jim's cheek. "Thank God they brought you in fast. It could have been much worse."
Jim turned into the touch, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "He fell on me?"
"He fell on you." Phil leaned down, kissing Jim lightly. "It would be funny if the bastard didn't almost kill you."
"God." Jim reached over, tangling his fingers with Phil's. "Am I, will there be permanent damage?" He felt a wave of terror wash over him. "Please, you have to tell me."
"I don't think so, the CT scans look pretty good. You're going to have hellish headaches for awhile and there may be some vision and balance issues at first but it looks good that you'll fully recover." Phil squeezed his hand. "You scared the shit out of me, cop."
"Sorry about that, doc." Jim tugged at his hand, trying to pull him closer. "Have you slept at all?"
"Not as such." Phil shifted on the bed, trying to get closer. "I wanted to be here when you woke up."
"Come here then." Jim shifted over as much as he could. "Lie down with me."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Phil settled down next to him, an arm draped over his chest.
"I think it is." Jim nestled into Phil, the warmth of his body soothing. "I cannot believe he fell on me." There was a faint snort against his neck and Jim smiled a little. "Please tell me there's no video of it."
"There's no video of it. Once I'm sure you're going to be fine it'll be funny as hell." Phil kissed the side of his neck. "Don't take it personally if I pass out on you, okay?"
"No problem." Jim rested his arm over Phil's. "You sleep, okay, I'm not going anywhere."
"Better not." Phil breathed into his ear. He listened as Phil's breathing slowly evened out, feeling the tightness in his chest ease. His head still ached and he could tell that it was going to get worse later. But for now it was enough to be there with his lover next to him. He'd worry about the rest later.
"I cannot believe you're doing this." Phil crossed his arms, scowling at Jim. "I thought we agreed that you were going to take the time to evaluate other options."
"No, you demanded that I quit and I told you to go to hell." Jim rubbed at his temple, feeling the throbbing start. "I'm sick of fighting about this."
"And I'm sick of worrying that every morning when you leave it'll be the last time you do!" Phil shook his head. "This is ridiculous, you're still supposed to be out on leave."
"I've been out for two months and I'm perfectly capable of sitting at my desk and reviewing reports." Jim tried to keep his voice steady. There was no point in yelling, all that would accomplish was winding up them both. "I'm not going out on calls, you know I'm not and I'm not going to be driving and I'll be good about not staring at the monitor for too long. Phil, I'm going nuts sitting here at home, there's no reason why I can't go in." Jim turned back to the mirror, scowling as he finished doing up the knot on his tie. "The department's been great about giving me time and I don't want to push it."
"Right, they've been great about calling you constantly and demanding to know when you're going to be back. Here, let me do that." Phil turned Jim around, undoing the knot and then tying it quickly. "Believe it or not, Jim Gordon, you are not indispensible."
"I never said that I was." He turned back to the mirror, eyeing the neat knot. "Thanks."
"No problem." Phil leaned against the wall, looking at Jim tiredly. "Look, is it so awful that I don't want you doing something where you could get killed any second?"
"No, it's not." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to work on the breathing techniques for stress reduction that Thomas suggested. It didn't seem to be working at the moment. "But how many times are we going to argue about this? I'm a cop the way you're a surgeon, it's not what we do it's who we are." He glanced at the clock, then frowned. "I've got to get going, I'm going to miss the bus." He grabbed his briefcase then started out the door of his bedroom. He stopped when Phil grabbed his arm.
"You aren't even cleared to drive yet, Jim, don't you think that's a sign that you're pushing it a bit too fast? Look, you see Shannon in two weeks, if she says it's fine to go back, then I'll drop it, okay?" Phil gave him the sad eyes and Jim sighed.
"I saw her last week and she said it was fine to go back to desk work now if I want as you well know. Or where you not listening when we were there?" Jim pulled away, trying to ignore the flash of anger on Phil's face. "I promise, I'll leave if it gets to be too much and I'll eat and I won't drink coffee and all of that stuff. I need to do this, Phil, I can't stand sitting around."
"Fine!" Phil tossed up his hands. "Forgive me for giving a shit if you live or die."
"You know what, I'm done with this fight." Jim turned, heading for the door. "You knew what I did when we started this. You know damn well how important this is to me." He looked over his shoulder, fighting to keep his voice even. "Don't make me choose. You won't like my choice." He stepped out, leaning against the wall for a minute before heading down the stairs. That was exactly how he wanted to start the day. He hurried down the street, hoping that he hadn't missed the bus. God, he couldn't wait until he could drive again. He didn't know how people did this every day.
Jim stifled a yawn as he came through the door. He hated to admit it but he was exhausted. Apparently doing paperwork all day took more energy than he'd ever thought. It was probably the boredom of it, sure, he'd done it before but there was always something to break the monotony. There were witnesses to interview or leads to follow or people to chase. Sitting there and going through all the forms was wearying. The only bright spot was the thought that he might, for once, get caught up.
"Hey." Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice behind him. He barely kept from drawing his gun, his heart pounding hard.
"Shit, you scared the hell out of me." Jim dropped his briefcase to the floor, then hung up his coat. "I didn't think you'd be here." He tried to keep from sounding accusatory but he knew he didn't entirely succeed. He turned around, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face. "So, what's up?"
"I wanted to apologize." Phil took a step towards him, then reached out, running a hand down Jim's arm. "I shouldn't have been such an asshole."
"No, you shouldn't." Jim leaned into him, looping his arms around Phil's waist. "I'm tired of fighting about this."
"Me too." Phil ran a hand down his back and Jim felt the tension begin to drain out with every slide of Phil's hand. "I'll figure out some way to deal with it, I promise."
"Are you sure?" Jim leaned back enough to look at him, eyes searching Phil's face. "If you can't, then you can't. I won't blame you for that, it's a lot to ask."
"Hey, it's not like I don't ask stuff from you. There aren't many people who would understand how much I get called away." Phil kissed his temple. "You were right, it's who we are and not what we do. Since I happen to be pretty damn fond of who you are, I'll find a way to deal."
"Okay." Jim stifled a yawn. "If I tell you I'm completely exhausted, will you not say I told you so?"
Phil laughed. "Not a chance. C'mon, cop, let's get some food in you and then I'll tuck you in. If you're really good, I may even read you a bedtime story." Phil tugged him into the kitchen and Jim followed willingly.
"What you do with Mother Goose is very disturbing, have I ever mentioned that?" Jim kissed the back of Phil's neck. "Stay tonight."
"I can do that." Phil smiled over his shoulder at Jim. "It might be disturbing but I've never heard any complaints."
"Fine, fine, whatever, feed me, Seymour." Jim smirked at Phil's groan. "You deserved that."
"I never should have let you see that. Now shut up and let me get my housewife on." Phil pushed Jim away. "Go change, I'll have dinner ordered by then."
"You're so domestic it hurts." Jim padded for the bedroom, shedding his tie and jacket along the way. "Get extra dumplings, you always steal mine."
"I do not!" Jim grinned at the outraged tone to Phil's voice. "And that's only because you don't share."
"Fine, whatever, just get extra, I'm starved." Jim leaned out the bedroom door. "You think we have time for a shower before it gets here?"
"Oh hell yes." Phil shooed him back into the bedroom. "You get the water heated up, I'll call and then we'll get all cleaned up."
"You've got it." Jim yawned, then padded into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He really should move, the plumbing was terrible. He heard Phil put in the order and then the sound of footsteps coming into the bathroom. He checked the water, stepping in and tipping his head back. All in all, it wasn't a bad day.
Once, just once, Jim thought as he ran down the alley, it would be nice if it wasn't cold, dark and pouring down rain while he chased a criminal of some stripe down a dark alley. There was no need for his life to look like some action movie. During the day would be fine. Night would be acceptable as long as it was spring. Hell, even a cold, dark night would be fine if it simply stopped pouring down rain. He ducked around the corner, trying to keep up with the man running full tilt towards the fence. Maybe he'd get lucky for once and the suspect wouldn't try to make an escape in the most ridiculous fashion possible.
"Freeze! Gotham PD!" Jim pulled out his gun, blinking to clear the rain from his eyes. "Stop right there, you're under arrest!"
Sure enough the man yelled something, Jim couldn't make out what, then made a leap for the fence. Jim holstered his gun, then jogged down the alley, watching as the man got stuck half way up. It was faintly ridiculous, seeing him hanging there. Jim looked up at him, waiting for the man to stop swearing. "Are you ready to give up or do you want me to leave you hanging there for awhile?" Jim jumped back, dodging as the man spit at him. "Fine, hanging there it is." He stepped back, tacking off his glasses and brushing hair out of his eyes. He heard Stephens' yell of "Jim!" from down the alley and he called back "Down here, we're gonna need a ladder!"
Stephens came trotting down the alley, a look of disbelief on his face as he saw the suspect clutching to the fence. "Are you fucking kidding me? How did he even get that high in the first place?"
"Hell if I know." Jim tipped his head to the side. "I'm glad he dropped his gun, at least he's not taking potshots at us."
"Thank God for small favors." Stephens grabbed his radio and called for more backup, not bothering to disguise the amusement in his voice as he explained exactly why it was that they needed a ladder.
Jim wandered back over to where their suspect was still spitting and cursing and threatening to call unholy vengeance down upon them. "You're really not in the position to make threats right now, you know." He shook his head sadly. "I really don't get why you thought you could make it over the fence."
The man yelled something down, the only intelligible words were fuck and mother and dog. Jim snorted and turned, trying to pinpoint exactly where the gun ended up. He heard a sudden yell and he turned fast. There was a fleeting impression of a dark mass falling and then something hit him and he slammed into the ground, his head smacking the pavement before everything went dark.
There was an incessant beeping and Jim tried to move his arm to smack the alarm. Nothing happened and he tried again. Still nothing. He opened his eyes slowly, slowly realizing that he wasn't in his bedroom. There was a blue glow from monitors and the beeping seemed to be by his head and it was cold and the walls were white. There was a moment of pure panic until his thoughts slowly gelled and he realized he was in the hospital. He left out a low moan. God, his head hurt and his back hurt and it felt like even his eyes hurt.
"Jim? Jim, can you hear me?" That was Phil's voice and Jim tried to turn his head to see him. It was far more difficult than it should be.
"What, what happened?" Jim tried to swallow, his throat was so dry it ached.
"You're in the hospital." Phil turned, filling a glass with water. He reached an arm behind Jim's shoulder, holding him up enough that Jim could take a sip of water.
Jim sipped the water gratefully, struggling not to take a huge swallow. No matter how desperately he wanted that drink, he knew it was better to go slow. "I figured that out, but what happened?"
Phil settled on the edge of the bed, a hand running down Jim's arm. He looked awful, Jim saw. He was unshaven and it looked like he hadn't slept and his face was thinner than usual. "You've been unconscious for almost four days. I wasn't sure," he looked away and his fingers dug into Jim's shoulder for a moment. "I wasn't sure you were going to wake up."
Jim stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "What? Unconscious? What the hell?" He tried to think back, tried to focus on the last thing he remembered. He could see the man on the fence, he remembered something about a gun and then nothing.
"The guy you chased up the fence fell off. He fell right on top of you. From what we could tell, you hit the back of your head first and that caused a subdural hematoma. Luckily, the swelling started to go down last night or you were going to need surgery." Phil skimmed his fingertips down Jim's cheek. "Thank God they brought you in fast. It could have been much worse."
Jim turned into the touch, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "He fell on me?"
"He fell on you." Phil leaned down, kissing Jim lightly. "It would be funny if the bastard didn't almost kill you."
"God." Jim reached over, tangling his fingers with Phil's. "Am I, will there be permanent damage?" He felt a wave of terror wash over him. "Please, you have to tell me."
"I don't think so, the CT scans look pretty good. You're going to have hellish headaches for awhile and there may be some vision and balance issues at first but it looks good that you'll fully recover." Phil squeezed his hand. "You scared the shit out of me, cop."
"Sorry about that, doc." Jim tugged at his hand, trying to pull him closer. "Have you slept at all?"
"Not as such." Phil shifted on the bed, trying to get closer. "I wanted to be here when you woke up."
"Come here then." Jim shifted over as much as he could. "Lie down with me."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Phil settled down next to him, an arm draped over his chest.
"I think it is." Jim nestled into Phil, the warmth of his body soothing. "I cannot believe he fell on me." There was a faint snort against his neck and Jim smiled a little. "Please tell me there's no video of it."
"There's no video of it. Once I'm sure you're going to be fine it'll be funny as hell." Phil kissed the side of his neck. "Don't take it personally if I pass out on you, okay?"
"No problem." Jim rested his arm over Phil's. "You sleep, okay, I'm not going anywhere."
"Better not." Phil breathed into his ear. He listened as Phil's breathing slowly evened out, feeling the tightness in his chest ease. His head still ached and he could tell that it was going to get worse later. But for now it was enough to be there with his lover next to him. He'd worry about the rest later.
"I cannot believe you're doing this." Phil crossed his arms, scowling at Jim. "I thought we agreed that you were going to take the time to evaluate other options."
"No, you demanded that I quit and I told you to go to hell." Jim rubbed at his temple, feeling the throbbing start. "I'm sick of fighting about this."
"And I'm sick of worrying that every morning when you leave it'll be the last time you do!" Phil shook his head. "This is ridiculous, you're still supposed to be out on leave."
"I've been out for two months and I'm perfectly capable of sitting at my desk and reviewing reports." Jim tried to keep his voice steady. There was no point in yelling, all that would accomplish was winding up them both. "I'm not going out on calls, you know I'm not and I'm not going to be driving and I'll be good about not staring at the monitor for too long. Phil, I'm going nuts sitting here at home, there's no reason why I can't go in." Jim turned back to the mirror, scowling as he finished doing up the knot on his tie. "The department's been great about giving me time and I don't want to push it."
"Right, they've been great about calling you constantly and demanding to know when you're going to be back. Here, let me do that." Phil turned Jim around, undoing the knot and then tying it quickly. "Believe it or not, Jim Gordon, you are not indispensible."
"I never said that I was." He turned back to the mirror, eyeing the neat knot. "Thanks."
"No problem." Phil leaned against the wall, looking at Jim tiredly. "Look, is it so awful that I don't want you doing something where you could get killed any second?"
"No, it's not." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to work on the breathing techniques for stress reduction that Thomas suggested. It didn't seem to be working at the moment. "But how many times are we going to argue about this? I'm a cop the way you're a surgeon, it's not what we do it's who we are." He glanced at the clock, then frowned. "I've got to get going, I'm going to miss the bus." He grabbed his briefcase then started out the door of his bedroom. He stopped when Phil grabbed his arm.
"You aren't even cleared to drive yet, Jim, don't you think that's a sign that you're pushing it a bit too fast? Look, you see Shannon in two weeks, if she says it's fine to go back, then I'll drop it, okay?" Phil gave him the sad eyes and Jim sighed.
"I saw her last week and she said it was fine to go back to desk work now if I want as you well know. Or where you not listening when we were there?" Jim pulled away, trying to ignore the flash of anger on Phil's face. "I promise, I'll leave if it gets to be too much and I'll eat and I won't drink coffee and all of that stuff. I need to do this, Phil, I can't stand sitting around."
"Fine!" Phil tossed up his hands. "Forgive me for giving a shit if you live or die."
"You know what, I'm done with this fight." Jim turned, heading for the door. "You knew what I did when we started this. You know damn well how important this is to me." He looked over his shoulder, fighting to keep his voice even. "Don't make me choose. You won't like my choice." He stepped out, leaning against the wall for a minute before heading down the stairs. That was exactly how he wanted to start the day. He hurried down the street, hoping that he hadn't missed the bus. God, he couldn't wait until he could drive again. He didn't know how people did this every day.
Jim stifled a yawn as he came through the door. He hated to admit it but he was exhausted. Apparently doing paperwork all day took more energy than he'd ever thought. It was probably the boredom of it, sure, he'd done it before but there was always something to break the monotony. There were witnesses to interview or leads to follow or people to chase. Sitting there and going through all the forms was wearying. The only bright spot was the thought that he might, for once, get caught up.
"Hey." Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice behind him. He barely kept from drawing his gun, his heart pounding hard.
"Shit, you scared the hell out of me." Jim dropped his briefcase to the floor, then hung up his coat. "I didn't think you'd be here." He tried to keep from sounding accusatory but he knew he didn't entirely succeed. He turned around, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face. "So, what's up?"
"I wanted to apologize." Phil took a step towards him, then reached out, running a hand down Jim's arm. "I shouldn't have been such an asshole."
"No, you shouldn't." Jim leaned into him, looping his arms around Phil's waist. "I'm tired of fighting about this."
"Me too." Phil ran a hand down his back and Jim felt the tension begin to drain out with every slide of Phil's hand. "I'll figure out some way to deal with it, I promise."
"Are you sure?" Jim leaned back enough to look at him, eyes searching Phil's face. "If you can't, then you can't. I won't blame you for that, it's a lot to ask."
"Hey, it's not like I don't ask stuff from you. There aren't many people who would understand how much I get called away." Phil kissed his temple. "You were right, it's who we are and not what we do. Since I happen to be pretty damn fond of who you are, I'll find a way to deal."
"Okay." Jim stifled a yawn. "If I tell you I'm completely exhausted, will you not say I told you so?"
Phil laughed. "Not a chance. C'mon, cop, let's get some food in you and then I'll tuck you in. If you're really good, I may even read you a bedtime story." Phil tugged him into the kitchen and Jim followed willingly.
"What you do with Mother Goose is very disturbing, have I ever mentioned that?" Jim kissed the back of Phil's neck. "Stay tonight."
"I can do that." Phil smiled over his shoulder at Jim. "It might be disturbing but I've never heard any complaints."
"Fine, fine, whatever, feed me, Seymour." Jim smirked at Phil's groan. "You deserved that."
"I never should have let you see that. Now shut up and let me get my housewife on." Phil pushed Jim away. "Go change, I'll have dinner ordered by then."
"You're so domestic it hurts." Jim padded for the bedroom, shedding his tie and jacket along the way. "Get extra dumplings, you always steal mine."
"I do not!" Jim grinned at the outraged tone to Phil's voice. "And that's only because you don't share."
"Fine, whatever, just get extra, I'm starved." Jim leaned out the bedroom door. "You think we have time for a shower before it gets here?"
"Oh hell yes." Phil shooed him back into the bedroom. "You get the water heated up, I'll call and then we'll get all cleaned up."
"You've got it." Jim yawned, then padded into the bathroom, turning on the shower. He really should move, the plumbing was terrible. He heard Phil put in the order and then the sound of footsteps coming into the bathroom. He checked the water, stepping in and tipping his head back. All in all, it wasn't a bad day.