To Serve and Protect - Chapter 3
Title: To Serve and Protect
Pairing: Batman/Gordon
Rating: (eventual) NC-17
Summary: The beginning of the partnership that would change the face of Gotham.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately. Can’t imagine what I’d do with these two sexy men if they were left in my delicate care…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Not sure if I like this chapter but I ended up finishing it too late/early in the morning to check it over and voila, here it is. Going to try and post a chapter a day, or close to. Looking at maybe ten chapters in total overall. Enjoy!
Title: To Serve and Protect
Chapter Three
Summary: Gordon snoops and realizes a few things.
Gordon quickly discovered where he'd been hit (moving tended to give it away), and he thanked unsteady hands and poor shooting for his life. One bullet to the lower gut and one to the shoulder; Bannik could hardly have shot more off the mark. All that left was the pain (which was really nothing to scoff at).
The Bat had barely been out the door (where the door had come from he really didn’t know) when Gordon found himself investigating his surroundings like a cop casing a crime scene. He hadn’t ever really thought himself a nosy man, but he was quickly discovering his sneaking, inquisitive side. Hardly unexpected when given free access to the personal space of a man like the Batman, but still. Nosy.
It hadn't taken him long to evaluate the - space - he was in, and the lack of, well, anything, bored him right quick. He had to struggle up from his nest of blankets (he wasn't even sure there was a mattress under all those layers), and walking was at once painful and tiring. But he found himself drawn to the one section of the room that had something interesting on it. A set of equipment, ranging from an eight-screen television setup - surveillance? - with an attached (locked) filing cabinet, another multi-screen setup of networked computers, printers, scanners, workbenches and an array of gadgets, all stood against one wall. The unique motorcycle the Batman favored was parked to one side of all the mess and Gordon's hands practically itched to test it out. If it was anything as exhilarating as driving the tank of the original bat vehicle he didn't doubt he'd enjoy himself immensely. There was even enough space here to give it a little test run. Maybe when he had fewer bullet holes in his stomach.
He'd managed - through a lot of cursing and fumbling of remotes - to find one that turned on a single screen from the looming collection of them. He'd been watching the news since, wondering with trepidation if he'd find a story on his own (supposedly) sanctioned absence. It was also the only way he'd been able to tell the date and time of day since it didn't look at though Batman put much stock in clocks.
Well, at least he didn't lack entertainment. But Gordon was an active man, and it wasn't long before watching television was putting him in a foul mood. It had also given him time to think about why he was locked away in what could have passed for a white padded cell instead of a hospital room. Part of him wanted to be concerned but the larger part of him was merely curious. Though, he rather thought if anyone else had tried to do it, he might fear a little more for his life.
As the news wound down (thankfully without mentioning his name), he fumbled with the remotes again, intending to shut it all down. But he had to guess at what might be the power button and instead of turning anything off, he managed to turn most of it on. All screens but one lit up, but not with television programs. Instead, it took Gordon a minute to realize what it was he was watching and if he hadn't been sitting, he would have had to do so at once.
It seemed the Batman, truly a man without jurisdiction, felt no need to abide by rules governing such things. Even as Gordon watched, he realized he was seeing the live, real-time, and very private lives of several of Gotham's citizens, laid out in meticulous order in front of him.
It shocked him, though it shouldn't have, he thought numbly, to see his own house covering half of one of the remaining video sets.
He wasn't sure how long he watched as the surveillance devices filtered through perhaps fifteen or so domiciles of people being scrutinized. All people, he noticed after a moment, which his own department had suspicions of and regularly had officers staking out near them. The thought waylaid some of his sudden anxiety, but that didn't explain why his own house, and at least one or two others that he could see, was up there in black-and-white. At least the surveillance seemed to be limited to the exterior.
His eyes roved, at last catching sight of one screen that did not move, at the right-most corner of the network. Gordon stared. Rachel Dawes stared back, frozen in a moment of candid pleasure, looking beautiful and breathtakingly alive. He felt his mind race, connecting dots he hadn't thought to put together before now, always one crisis or another in the way of realization. The Joker's voice burned through his mind, echoing from a tiny cell of an interrogation room-
"...the way you threw yourself after her..."
-and Gordon ached to realize the extent of what Batman had truly given up for this city. He reached out, one hand trailing down the still image of the dead woman, hurting with and for the man beneath the mask.
"I see you've made yourself at home."
It was the second time Gordon found himself jumping out of his skin at that voice and he resolved not to do so in future. He blanked out the blazing compassion that had settled inside him; Batman, of all people, would not welcome his sympathy, especially not so soon after... He forced himself to remain sitting and focus on his original concerns instead, turning his head slowly to fix accusing eyes on the man before him.
Batman said nothing more, either unaffected, or, more likely, unwilling to offer information until it was solicited.
"Care to explain?" Gordon said at last, gesturing with a hand back toward the television sets and he didn't look away from Batman's face as those eyes tracked toward the evidence of his activities. The pointed ears tipped to the left and Gordon realized it was the equivalent of a bat-shrug.
"Seeing as I'm actually tapping into several of your officers’ own surveillance equipment to provide the feeds you see, you can hardly hold it against me."
Gordon refused to be distracted.
"I don't recall ordering an officer to keep watch on my own family. That one's all you." Batman cut his eyes back to Gordon, acknowledging the hit but only shrugged, unrepentant.
"Have to keep an eye on what little remains of the mob, but also on the people they might be targeting. You don't think I was just in the neighborhood the other night do you?" Gordon stared, disconcerted, and couldn't decide if he should be grateful for Batman's interest in his well being or furious at the implication that he couldn't take care of himself or his family. He conveniently forgot the very recent evidence supporting that assumption and his frown deepened into a scowl.
He would not be cosseted. He was the police Commissioner of Gotham and he had a right to know when something like this was about. Batman held his stare for a minute longer before he dropped his eyes; a subtle apology. Gordon accepted it, grimly. It was the best he could hope for out of this impossible, controlling man.
"I need to leave." He said finally, having made his point, and didn't look behind him when he pushed himself out of his comfortable chair. "I let the criminals think I was dead to spare my family - I doubt that tactic will work a second time. I need to get them out of Gotham."
"You can't send them away every time a threat presents itself," Batman said quietly and Gordon snapped his head around, dizzy and angry.
"It's no business of yours!" He shouted, furious. The honest truth was that if someone wanted to hurt his family, there was very little Gordon could do to stop them, as Dent had already proven. But he didn't need the Bat to remind him of that.
"I've been watching them," the dark knight continued as though Gordon hadn't spoken. "In two days no one's approached them and there are no rumors that anyone will. They're as safe here as they would be leaving the city." He hesitated but finally locked eyes with Gordon's livid gaze, looking far too composed. "You and I both know that the city limits are no deterrent to the determined criminal."
Gordon wheeled around, needing to hit something, and wished he still had his gun on him. He stumbled, almost welcoming the pain of his injuries against the pain of the truth. Strong, gloved hands caught him and supported him as he sagged, shivering in a cold sweat.
"I love my family," he whispered, beaten and afraid.
"I know."
"I can't protect them."
"You can. But there are always risks."
Gordon was silent. He knew those risks; he just didn't know if he could live with them. All his adult life he’d railed against the influential of Gotham, standing blindly by while injustice consumed their streets. Now he was one of them, a power of Gotham, and with the power came the danger.
He let himself be moved, heavy-footed and dispirited, back to his bed. He wasn’t normally this defeatist - it could be the drugs but he rather thought it might just be life. At the moment, life in general seemed quite discouraging. Batman laid him out with incongruous gentleness and Gordon took a deep, calming breath, grateful.
As the dark knight moved away Gordon reached out and caught at the trailing cape, seeing those eyes turn back to him, shivering under their intensity.
"I can't stay here forever. You can't protect me, either." He said quietly, fishing, and felt a bolt of triumph as that masked face acknowledged his hit, the eyes closing and turning away. Well, at least he knew why he wasn't in the hospital; it was a heady feeling knowing the dark knight cared enough about Gordon's safety to bring him into his hidden, private life. To expose himself in such a way.
Gordon lay back, watching as the man settled into the chair he'd just vacated and booted up one of the computers.
Gordon caught one last glimpse of Rachel Dawes, smiling from beyond death, preserved, and felt the guilt of her murder double at the thought of how he'd failed this man.
They all had weaknesses. Even the Batman, it seemed, had weaknesses. Gordon wasn't sure about how he felt, knowing he was one of them.
Pairing: Batman/Gordon
Rating: (eventual) NC-17
Summary: The beginning of the partnership that would change the face of Gotham.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately. Can’t imagine what I’d do with these two sexy men if they were left in my delicate care…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Not sure if I like this chapter but I ended up finishing it too late/early in the morning to check it over and voila, here it is. Going to try and post a chapter a day, or close to. Looking at maybe ten chapters in total overall. Enjoy!
Title: To Serve and Protect
Chapter Three
Summary: Gordon snoops and realizes a few things.
Gordon quickly discovered where he'd been hit (moving tended to give it away), and he thanked unsteady hands and poor shooting for his life. One bullet to the lower gut and one to the shoulder; Bannik could hardly have shot more off the mark. All that left was the pain (which was really nothing to scoff at).
The Bat had barely been out the door (where the door had come from he really didn’t know) when Gordon found himself investigating his surroundings like a cop casing a crime scene. He hadn’t ever really thought himself a nosy man, but he was quickly discovering his sneaking, inquisitive side. Hardly unexpected when given free access to the personal space of a man like the Batman, but still. Nosy.
It hadn't taken him long to evaluate the - space - he was in, and the lack of, well, anything, bored him right quick. He had to struggle up from his nest of blankets (he wasn't even sure there was a mattress under all those layers), and walking was at once painful and tiring. But he found himself drawn to the one section of the room that had something interesting on it. A set of equipment, ranging from an eight-screen television setup - surveillance? - with an attached (locked) filing cabinet, another multi-screen setup of networked computers, printers, scanners, workbenches and an array of gadgets, all stood against one wall. The unique motorcycle the Batman favored was parked to one side of all the mess and Gordon's hands practically itched to test it out. If it was anything as exhilarating as driving the tank of the original bat vehicle he didn't doubt he'd enjoy himself immensely. There was even enough space here to give it a little test run. Maybe when he had fewer bullet holes in his stomach.
He'd managed - through a lot of cursing and fumbling of remotes - to find one that turned on a single screen from the looming collection of them. He'd been watching the news since, wondering with trepidation if he'd find a story on his own (supposedly) sanctioned absence. It was also the only way he'd been able to tell the date and time of day since it didn't look at though Batman put much stock in clocks.
Well, at least he didn't lack entertainment. But Gordon was an active man, and it wasn't long before watching television was putting him in a foul mood. It had also given him time to think about why he was locked away in what could have passed for a white padded cell instead of a hospital room. Part of him wanted to be concerned but the larger part of him was merely curious. Though, he rather thought if anyone else had tried to do it, he might fear a little more for his life.
As the news wound down (thankfully without mentioning his name), he fumbled with the remotes again, intending to shut it all down. But he had to guess at what might be the power button and instead of turning anything off, he managed to turn most of it on. All screens but one lit up, but not with television programs. Instead, it took Gordon a minute to realize what it was he was watching and if he hadn't been sitting, he would have had to do so at once.
It seemed the Batman, truly a man without jurisdiction, felt no need to abide by rules governing such things. Even as Gordon watched, he realized he was seeing the live, real-time, and very private lives of several of Gotham's citizens, laid out in meticulous order in front of him.
It shocked him, though it shouldn't have, he thought numbly, to see his own house covering half of one of the remaining video sets.
He wasn't sure how long he watched as the surveillance devices filtered through perhaps fifteen or so domiciles of people being scrutinized. All people, he noticed after a moment, which his own department had suspicions of and regularly had officers staking out near them. The thought waylaid some of his sudden anxiety, but that didn't explain why his own house, and at least one or two others that he could see, was up there in black-and-white. At least the surveillance seemed to be limited to the exterior.
His eyes roved, at last catching sight of one screen that did not move, at the right-most corner of the network. Gordon stared. Rachel Dawes stared back, frozen in a moment of candid pleasure, looking beautiful and breathtakingly alive. He felt his mind race, connecting dots he hadn't thought to put together before now, always one crisis or another in the way of realization. The Joker's voice burned through his mind, echoing from a tiny cell of an interrogation room-
"...the way you threw yourself after her..."
-and Gordon ached to realize the extent of what Batman had truly given up for this city. He reached out, one hand trailing down the still image of the dead woman, hurting with and for the man beneath the mask.
"I see you've made yourself at home."
It was the second time Gordon found himself jumping out of his skin at that voice and he resolved not to do so in future. He blanked out the blazing compassion that had settled inside him; Batman, of all people, would not welcome his sympathy, especially not so soon after... He forced himself to remain sitting and focus on his original concerns instead, turning his head slowly to fix accusing eyes on the man before him.
Batman said nothing more, either unaffected, or, more likely, unwilling to offer information until it was solicited.
"Care to explain?" Gordon said at last, gesturing with a hand back toward the television sets and he didn't look away from Batman's face as those eyes tracked toward the evidence of his activities. The pointed ears tipped to the left and Gordon realized it was the equivalent of a bat-shrug.
"Seeing as I'm actually tapping into several of your officers’ own surveillance equipment to provide the feeds you see, you can hardly hold it against me."
Gordon refused to be distracted.
"I don't recall ordering an officer to keep watch on my own family. That one's all you." Batman cut his eyes back to Gordon, acknowledging the hit but only shrugged, unrepentant.
"Have to keep an eye on what little remains of the mob, but also on the people they might be targeting. You don't think I was just in the neighborhood the other night do you?" Gordon stared, disconcerted, and couldn't decide if he should be grateful for Batman's interest in his well being or furious at the implication that he couldn't take care of himself or his family. He conveniently forgot the very recent evidence supporting that assumption and his frown deepened into a scowl.
He would not be cosseted. He was the police Commissioner of Gotham and he had a right to know when something like this was about. Batman held his stare for a minute longer before he dropped his eyes; a subtle apology. Gordon accepted it, grimly. It was the best he could hope for out of this impossible, controlling man.
"I need to leave." He said finally, having made his point, and didn't look behind him when he pushed himself out of his comfortable chair. "I let the criminals think I was dead to spare my family - I doubt that tactic will work a second time. I need to get them out of Gotham."
"You can't send them away every time a threat presents itself," Batman said quietly and Gordon snapped his head around, dizzy and angry.
"It's no business of yours!" He shouted, furious. The honest truth was that if someone wanted to hurt his family, there was very little Gordon could do to stop them, as Dent had already proven. But he didn't need the Bat to remind him of that.
"I've been watching them," the dark knight continued as though Gordon hadn't spoken. "In two days no one's approached them and there are no rumors that anyone will. They're as safe here as they would be leaving the city." He hesitated but finally locked eyes with Gordon's livid gaze, looking far too composed. "You and I both know that the city limits are no deterrent to the determined criminal."
Gordon wheeled around, needing to hit something, and wished he still had his gun on him. He stumbled, almost welcoming the pain of his injuries against the pain of the truth. Strong, gloved hands caught him and supported him as he sagged, shivering in a cold sweat.
"I love my family," he whispered, beaten and afraid.
"I know."
"I can't protect them."
"You can. But there are always risks."
Gordon was silent. He knew those risks; he just didn't know if he could live with them. All his adult life he’d railed against the influential of Gotham, standing blindly by while injustice consumed their streets. Now he was one of them, a power of Gotham, and with the power came the danger.
He let himself be moved, heavy-footed and dispirited, back to his bed. He wasn’t normally this defeatist - it could be the drugs but he rather thought it might just be life. At the moment, life in general seemed quite discouraging. Batman laid him out with incongruous gentleness and Gordon took a deep, calming breath, grateful.
As the dark knight moved away Gordon reached out and caught at the trailing cape, seeing those eyes turn back to him, shivering under their intensity.
"I can't stay here forever. You can't protect me, either." He said quietly, fishing, and felt a bolt of triumph as that masked face acknowledged his hit, the eyes closing and turning away. Well, at least he knew why he wasn't in the hospital; it was a heady feeling knowing the dark knight cared enough about Gordon's safety to bring him into his hidden, private life. To expose himself in such a way.
Gordon lay back, watching as the man settled into the chair he'd just vacated and booted up one of the computers.
Gordon caught one last glimpse of Rachel Dawes, smiling from beyond death, preserved, and felt the guilt of her murder double at the thought of how he'd failed this man.
They all had weaknesses. Even the Batman, it seemed, had weaknesses. Gordon wasn't sure about how he felt, knowing he was one of them.