Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce gritted his teeth, clutching at the bruised shoulder, thankful (not for the first time), that his armour was heavily padded and protected against regular guns.

Beside him, Alfred was silent.

He hadn’t been his usual self for a while.

Not since Ethiopia.

He knew this but couldn’t pull himself out of it.

“I shall fetch you a strong drink.” Alfred eventually sighed, when he concluded that the shoulder wound wasn’t too serious, “ONE glass.”

Bruce knew better than to argue.

He knew that he should probably head up to the manor, but honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could face Jim right now.

....

It was the three-month anniversary.

Commissioner Jim Gordon was NOT having a good day, and the thought of going home was unbearable at the moment. He knew that his apartment was still there if he wanted, but that also wasn’t ideal.

He needed company to stop himself from just grabbing a bottle of whiskey and pickling his liver.

But he didn’t want this pitying company, his lieutenants all looking at him like he might explode at any moment.

Back to the manor it was.

Alfred would have had a word with...him by now.

....

He was already tense as he walked into the large home that he shared with a man who he did love, but who felt more like a stranger nowadays.

Alfred was waiting for him.

“He’s in the living room.” the older man sighed, “Do I need to confiscate the gun?”

Silently, Jim handed it over, much to Alfred’s surprise, who had clearly meant it as a joke.

“He’s mourning too.” Alfred whispered, “We all are.”

“...I know.”

He knew that Alfred had a soft spot for Jason, and he knew that the other man was looking older than he ever had before.

But Bruce couldn’t continue on the way that he was going.

He headed into the living room, seeing Bruce lying on one of the sofas, sipping at a small glass of whiskey. He didn’t even look up at Jim’s entrance, though Jim knew that the other man had heard him.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t arrest ‘Batman’ next time I see him.”

Bruce stayed quiet.

Jim couldn’t stop the long sigh from escaping through his nose, “Bruce...you could have killed that man. You understand that right?”

Silence.

“Maybe...Batman needs to take a fucking break, BEFORE he kills someone!”

“Maybe that’s what Gotham actually needs.” Bruce whispered, “I’ve tried being merciful, and look where that got us.”

“...You don’t mean that.”

Bruce refused to look him in the eyes, which told Jim that yes, he did mean it.

“Bruce...you can’t.”

What else could he say?

That as soon as the Batman started to lose his principles, Gotham was essentially doomed?

"Please..." he whispered, "....This isn't Batman and you know it."

All that got him, was a dead-eyed stare that made a shiver run up and down his spine. "People will be talking about how you shot me." He then said, as Jim shook his head.

"No. People will be talking about how Batman is no longer the hero they thought that he was."

"Good...what kind of hero can't even save his own son?"

And that, was that.

Jim had no words for that, as Bruce scoffed and downed the rest of his drink.

“Yeah…that’s what I thought.”