“…and Jim Gordon would have died for nothing.” Batman growled towards Harvey Dent.
Bruce still can’t believe it. It happened before his eyes but he doesn’t want it to be true.
His only ally in Gotham.
His only… friend?
Shot by a mad man.
Bruce will give up.
He really can’t endure this anymore.
People dying because of him.
Tomorrow he’d show his face to the joker and everybody else.
His old anger was rising again, but along with it a deep, all consuming frustration.
The Batman moved through Gotham’s streets restlessly.
Not knowing where to go.
Rachel is in his Penthouse, yes.
But Gordon is dead.
Bruce felt like torn in half.
Kissing his old girlfriend hadn’t done much.
He hoped it would stir something in him, but he didn’t even put his whole heart into it.
One hand clutching at the communication device in his pocket. The one he had used with Gordon.
He’d packed up his stuff with Alfred, the only other man he trusted.
His father figure.
But now he had come back, getting the Bat suit out and flying and wandering through the dark city, just before dawn.
Aimlessly on the search.
On the hunt.
For the joker.
His heart dark as the night.
It was the same feeling he had when his parents died.
Like in the night when he had seen Gordon for the very first time in his life.
Without knowing how he got there, he suddenly found himself on the rooftop of the police department.
Of course, no one was there.
The floodlight that was usually calling for him, was switched off.
The one who normally turned it on was gone.
Batman leaned heavily onto it, cursing mercilessly under his breath.
Until he heard a faint noise.
Sounded like Gordon’s.
But Jim was dead…
“I thought you’d need something like this.”
Batman looked up.
Gordon stood in front of him, holding out a glass of what looked like whiskey.
They locked gazes.
Not speaking for several long moments.
Batman’s thoughts racing.
Anger, guilt, joy all in one.
Finally Bruce took the offered glass, not drinking but holding on to it very tightly.
“But you are…” He started to speak, but then a faint smile appeared on his hidden face. “Very clever.”
Gordon had never heard him chuckle before.
“I thought you should know.” He admitted very low.
Bruce nodded once. Not showing how whole he felt again, suddenly.
“I have a plan, care to come inside?” Gordon had taken his glasses off and opened a hidden door to a room with no windows and a very low light.
Batman followed. It was a tiny, almost empty room. Only a bed was there and a thing he appreciated very much. A coffee maker.
He cleared his throat, stood somewhat forlorn in the room and, despite what Batman would do, he gestured to the boiling coffee and muttered, with a strange not Batman voice, “I’d rather have a cup of that.”
Gordon noticed that Batman had left the glass of alcohol untouched.
He took it back, smiling, “Of course.” Wondering, where he had heard the nonBatman voice before. But he dismissed the thought.
For now, he didn’t want to know.
For now, they had a difficult plan to discuss.
He poured the Bat a cup of coffee, sat down beside him on the bed and started to explain.