Qia
webboysurf
Festive
Half Pint
Nemaisare
Supermaxx
Aeolian
Yankee
Melissa
Earth-93913003, Gotham City
Jimmy paused as he slid his key into the front door of his flat, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses. As one hand turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, the other tugged at the tie around his neck, removing it in a practiced motion as he crossed the threshold into his home. The smells hit him first; lingering aromas from the evening's dinner he'd missed, the slight mustiness of the worn-out AC unit in the window, the dampness of the last few days' rain that still loitered on the coats hung on the wall. Jimmy slid into the small chair next to the door and started unlacing his boots.
"James? Is that you?"
Barbara Kean’s voice, soft and quiet, cut through Jimmy’s short-lived fugue and brought him back to the flat; he pulled off his other boot just as his fiancée appeared around the corner from the den. She leaned against the wall, and Jimmy couldn’t - wouldn’t want to - suppress a smile as he looked at her, drinking the sight of her in to ferry away what he saw of Gotham every day on his beat. She was a vision in pyjamas, wearing some navy sweatpants and one of Jimmy’s academy hoodies, simple grey cotton with the GCPD logo on the breast. Her hair was a stunning orange in a wavy bob-cut; her eyes a bright and glittering green; her face a map of freckles that Jimmy still counted in order to fall asleep. She was intelligent - having surpassed Jimmy academically at every step of their relationship - and funny, and vivacious, and optimistic in a way Jimmy aspired to in his work and ethos. Jimmy had no idea how he’d landed her, or how he continued to hold onto her - and, quite frankly, was smart enough not to question it, lest she catch on and go find the better man she was sorely capable of getting.
“Yeah Barb, it’s me.” Jimmy replied, smiling warmly as he stood and moved to pull Barbara into a tight embrace. She reciprocated, burying her face in his shoulder as they wrapped arms about each other, and then simultaneously pulled their heads back to kiss. “How was your day, hon’?”
“It was fine.” Barbara answered, giving Jimmy one last squeeze before they broke apart, and holding onto his hand as they moved into the den where the television was playing quietly, the soft white glow illuminating the modest room. “The kids can’t stop talking about this Bat-Man. I guess it all sounds like comic-book superheroes to them.”
Jimmy chuckled, thinking about his own off-the-books investigation, no better than a few printed Gazette articles, blogposts, and notes taken from Reddit posts, tucked into a manila folder and hidden in a locked desk drawer. With the way everyone seemed to talk about him, he was hardly surprised Barbara’s schoolkids - mostly nine- and ten-year-olds, maybe one eleven-year-old proudly the class’ elder - had captured this mythological figure in their fanciful imaginations as some kind of caped crusader against their Saturday-morning villains.
“I think it’d all be a lot simpler if he were a comic-book character, Barb. GCPD hasn’t a clue what to make of the guy. Pretty sure half the department isn’t even convinced he exists.”
Barbara smiled, sitting back down on the sofa and pulling her legs into her, retrieving a mug from the sidetable. Jimmy could smell the herbal fragrance of the tea and couldn’t help wrinkling his nose.
“There’s leftovers for you, top shelf of the fridge. I made meatloaf.” She said, pointing over her shoulder at the kitchenette on the back wall of the den without looking away from her telenovela. James kissed her from behind on the top of her scalp in thanks, and moved to the fridge in search of dinner and a beer. One quick microwave later, and Jimmy sat at the small, two-person table eating straight from the Tupperware, sipping from a stubby, and watching the television over Barbara’s shoulder.
“What do you think about him?” Barbara asked, after about fifteen minutes of silent contemplation while she listened to Jimmy chew. Jimmy swallowed his last bite and took another sip of his beer before wiping his moustache with a sheet of kitchen towel.
“I think he was a damn fool to cheat on her. And with her own sister! No way she won’t be able to figure it out.”
Barbara laughed and spun around, hanging over the back of the sofa and resting her head on her forearms as she looked Jimmy in the eye.
“No, not the show - the Bat. What do you think about the Bat?”
Jimmy leaned back in his chair, folding his arms together and tucking his hands beneath his armpits. He frowned thoughtfully, his expression one of true cogitation.
“I think he’s out there. I think he’s resourceful. I think he’s tactically intelligent, if not just plain straight-forward intelligent. I think he’s got some kind of plan, not just stopping a couple muggers here and there. And I think he’s angry, which makes him dangerous. For everybody.” Barbara frowned, and Jimmy put his hands up in pre-emptive surrender as he finished his thoughts. “But I think... he has good intentions. But you know what they say about those.”
Barbara nodded, turning back around.
"I think he's finally doing what we all want to do in this city." She said, with such a solemn matter-of-factness that Jimmy was momentarily convinced she herself could be the vigilante.
"Which is?" Jimmy probed, standing up to wash his plate and cutlery in the sink.
"Fight back."
Jimmy nodded, and let the matter settle there.
There were a few soft burbles from the baby monitor on the kitchen counter, and Jimmy and Barbara caught each other's gaze.
"I put her down a couple hours ago. I'm surprised she didn't wake when you came in."
The burbles continued before raising in volume, becoming groans and whines.
"She probably needs changing. I'll get her."
"Be my guest," Barbara said, smiling and turning back to the TV as Jimmy moved to the bedroom, "those diapers have been foul since she switched to solids."
Jimmy left the den and gently pushed open the door to the bedroom; the double-bed dominated most of the room, with a built-into-the-wall wardrobe on Barbara's side and a standalone wardrobe pushed against the wall on Jimmy's side. At the foot of the bed was a crib, and in the crib was Jimmy's daughter, Barbara Gordon. She thrashed her little limbs in her onesie, her blanket now a muddled ball in the corner of the crib; as Jimmy crossed the room and appeared into view, his daughter babbled and giggled, reaching up towards his face, the endearing noises and movements punctuated by a few wet farts and a distinct odour.
"Hello, trouble." Jimmy said, and Babs cooed softly in response.
Jimmy smiled back and picked Babs up, holding her beneath her armpits as he carried her to the bathroom and laid her gently on the pop-up table, purchased for its incredible one-hand-only ease-of-use. Babs pawed her pudgy fingers at her father's face as they went, grazing his moustache and nose, trying to take tiny fistfuls of both; Jimmy made a game of weaving in and out of her grasp, the pair of them grinning and cooing, until she finally managed to seize a few strands in her infant grip, and Jimmy let out a low yelp as she tugged. Gently, carefully, he pried her fingers off his facial hair, and set about the task of changing her. Barb hadn't been lying; the contents were indeed foul.
She had the hair of her mother - the wisps were starting to come through in the vibrant ginger that adorned Barbara Sr. - but her eyes were the cool storm-gray of her father, and while her nose was still mostly the smushed-button styling of a newborn, Jimmy suspected he'd lent her that feature as well.
"Let's just hope you got mom's smarts." He said softly, fastening the new diaper and pulling her into a cuddle against his shoulder.
To say Jimmy and Barbara's engagement had been something of a shotgun proposal would be to betray the deep, devoted affection they each held for each other; but that's not to say Barbara's unplanned pregnancy hadn't played its own part on Jimmy's decision. Ideally, they'd have been married by now - but finances were tight already, and when Barbara's father, Everett Kean, died suddenly last year, what they'd managed to save for a wedding was instead spent on funeral expenses. Ultimately, the promise and the desire remained, but the financial situation to support it wasn't quite in the right place. Jimmy unconsciously rubbed his engagement band, a forlorn feeling bubbling up inside him, a disappointment in himself for being unable to provide.
Babs snored softly on his shoulder and Jimmy came back. She'd fallen back to sleep, and he crept back to the bedroom to replace her in the crib before sneaking out - leaving the door slightly ajar just-so - and returning to the den. Barbara looked around at him.
"Changed her and she fell straight back to sleep. What a life." He remarked, and Barbara chuckled. Her show had ended, and the television was now playing some generic late-night chat-show crap. Jimmy predicted Barbara herself would nod off within minutes. He went to the front door and fished around in his coat pockets for-
"Don't light that in here, James." Came the stern words from Barbara, who knew exactly where Jimmy's mind had gone. "You stand out on the fire escape if you're going to smoke."
"Yes, hon'." He answered dutifully, finally seizing his own late father's pipe from one coat pocket and his tobacco and book of matches from the other. He planted another kiss on Barbara as he passed back through the den - she wouldn't let him after he smoked - and climbed over the kitchen counter and out the window onto the fire escape, rusted metal creaking under his weight. The cold night air was brisk but felt energizing, and as Jimmy packed his pipe and sparked a match, he felt a sense of relief wash over him as the stresses of the day finally, however infinitesimally, began to melt away.
A knock at the window from inside the flat made him jump, and he and Barbara shared a chuckle as she leaned over the counter through the open window.
"Here-" she passed Jimmy another stubby, "I know that look. Relax a bit." She handed him his coat too; he pulled it over his goose-bump skin and leaned forward for another kiss. Barbara assented, though she pulled a face afterwards, half-mocking. "Smelly. I'm going to bed. Come cuddle when you're done. Love you."
"Love you too, hon'. Sleep well."
---
Jimmy could feel himself nodding off as he sat, reclined, on the soggy lawn chair they kept on the fire escape for these very evenings, when he'd contemplate the world looking down the length of his father's pipe, navel-gazing through the hazy smoke that drifted up from the bowl. He sat up, able to convince himself no longer that he was simply 'resting his eyes', and drained the last of the stubby, before standing and taking a few short steps to the edge of the metal gantry to toss the empty bottle into the dumpster below.
Jimmy froze as he reached the edge and his eyes caught fabric fluttering in the soft night breeze on the fire escape of the building opposite; reflexively, his eyes followed the edge of that fabric up to its source, and Jimmy suddenly felt very cold and very vulnerable. One-up from him, perched on the edge of the gantry, was the Bat-Man of Gotham, staring at him. Neither man said a word for a very long while.
"How long have you been watching me?" Jimmy finally said, feeling like he was breaking out of some kind of spell by speaking aloud. The Bat made no movement, the gentle fluttering of his cape in the wind the only indication he was really there at all.
"I followed you home. Listened in on your evening. Had to make sure."
"I'd have seen you." Jimmy lied.
"You did. You just didn't recognize me."
"Is that the reason for the getup? So you don't get recognized?"
"No. The suit is so I do. So I can be what I need to be."
"A maniac?"
"A symbol."
Jimmy paused. He had no idea, of the hundreds of emotions swirling within him, which should guide him in this moment. He had no weapon, no cuffs, and even if he did, what was he supposed to do? Leap the gap between the buildings and chase this vigilante up rusty metal ladders? What if he caught him, then what? Charge him with what? Take him to the station and stick him in a holding pen? Would a jury convict him? Would he even get as far as a courtroom, or would Jimmy find himself losing that bet with Harvey?
"Don't hurt my family." Jimmy said softly, settling on a course of action: to protect his loved ones.
"I'm not here for them. Or for you. I'm here to talk, to the only man in the GCPD who'd listen."
Jimmy raised an eyebrow, undeniably curious and almost, in a way, flattered. There was a presence about the Bat, and even now, in the midst of what was ostensibly just a surprise conversation between an off-duty cop and a lunatic, it felt like something far grander was at play.
"I get it. Trying to get the only good cop on your si-"
"You're not a good cop." The Bat interrupted, and only shock prevented Jimmy's anger from rising up to strike back. "You might think you are. You might think, because you don't take bribes, you don't collect racket money, you don't shake down Gotham's citizens for protection, you're the last good cop in Gotham City. But you're wrong."
Jimmy stuttered, his hand trembling as he held out his pipe like a accusatory finger, fumbling for a response.
"How many mob fronts has your partner, Detective Harvey Bullock, picked up cash from this week? How many times this month have you, in your cruiser, passed someone getting beaten, because the paperwork wasn't worth it? How many incidents of racism, sexism, homophobia, have you heard, witnessed, silently participated in, today? How many beat cops, your peers, your colleagues, the people you graduated the academy with, do you know - know - have killed someone?"
Jimmy lowered his arm, his head hanging low.
"And what have you done about it?"
"Nothing."
"Because you can't. You can't lodge a complaint, or raise a report, you can't even correct them in conversation. Because at best, you'll lose your job, and at worst, you'll run foul of the wrong cop and lose your life. So what was your plan? Change the system from the inside? Be the one good example that no one else would follow? You might not participate - but you're still complicit. And to change the system, the system has to want to change. You're nobody. You're just one man, shouting silently into oblivion, waiting to be swallowed up."
Jimmy breathed deep, lashed by the truth in the words. He stared down at the alley beneath them, before tossing his empty bottle off the edge of the fire escape, watching it sail silently through the night air before landing in the dumpster down below.
"So you just came here to put me down, remind me how pointless everything is? What about you? You're just running around in a costume, beating up a few thugs. They go to the hospital for a couple days - they don't even make it to jail - they rest up a week or two - then they're back on the streets for, what, you to beat them up again and hope it sticks this time?
"No. I came to remind you why you ever joined the GCPD in the first place. That spark of hope - that's what the city has forgotten. That's what you need to hold onto. That's what I can be, more than just a man. And I came to ask for your help. You're not a good cop. But you're the best one the city has. And I will need you on my side."
"Why? Why now?"
"Because everything is about to change. I've got my own plans - plans I can't tell you about, plans I've been following - and now, I'm on the brink of everything. Gotham will change overnight."
"How."
"Because tonight, I'm going after a cop. And when I bring the entire GCPD down on my head, I need to know there's one cop - just one - on my side. A single cop that I - that the city - can trust."
Jimmy rubbed his eyes, rattled by the conversation, feeling like he'd had some veil ripped from his vision and a deep, stark truth laid bare before him. But there was also a sense of inevitability - like it had all been leading to this, like it was always going to have been leading to this - and he felt like denying it, here and now, would forever cast him into the abyss he'd been running from his whole life.
"Y'know, I was never much of a smoker, before my father died. He loved his pipe - when I was a kid, real little, I used to think it was some kind of tusk, like a elephant's, that's how often he was pulling on it. 'Course, I grew up, realized what it was, and then I hated him for it. He got the warning signs real early, too early, the coughing, the breathing trouble, the fatigue, but he kept right on smoking. I just thought, why was he doing it to himself? Why was he doing it to us? Didn't he know it was killing him, that he'd die too young, that he wouldn't get to see us grow up, get married, have kids? He'd never dance with my wife, never tell my daughter stories, never give...never give me advice on how to be a husband, or a father, or even a goddamn cop?"
Jimmy wrinkled his nose, his eyes stinging. He staunchly refused to cry, but it didn't seem to matter.
"About a year after I graduated the academy, I witnessed my first homicide, right in front of me. Senior detective. Shaking down this young...young man. A kid. He'd been asked to do a job, a nasty job, and he'd refused, so we were sent to teach him a lesson. Kid was fiery, strong. But stupid. The detective was a vile man, but he knew the right people, accepted the right bribes, so he was safe. He shot that kid right in the face, point-blank. Then he pointed the gun at me, gave me my story."
Jimmy held the pipe in his palms, staring at it. Tears dripped onto the lacquered wood.
"I picked tiny little fragments of that kid's skull out of my face in the station bathroom. And that night, I bought a pack of tobacco, and lit my old man's pipe when I got home. Had to lie to Barb that I'd picked up a smokes habit in the cruiser and was trying to cut down with the pipe instead. She still doesn't know why I started. But that time, alone, smoking...it helped. Helped me collect myself. Helped me separate being a cop from being a human being. I think my dad probably had a similar story. The rate he smoked, he probably had a couple hundred."
The pipe tumbled out of Jimmy's hands, falling down to the street. It missed the dumpster, and cracked in half on the concrete beneath them. Jimmy watched it all the way down.
"I'm in." He said, looking back up at his new partner.
The Bat-Man had disappeared. Jimmy nodded, sniffing, feeling a strong conviction in his fresh alliance. He climbed back into the flat, closing the window gently behind him, and went to be with his family.
