Title: As Plain As Black And White
Author: gaudy night
Rating: NC-17 consider yourself warned
Summary: One day later, one week later, one month later, and one year later for Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne. Sequel to At Long Last. Presumably the epilogue to the entire series.
A/N: Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. Cliché #16 in the series, Jim Gordon’s Life As a Series of Clichés. See author's profile to read the stories in chronological order.
Word Count: 5,169

One Day Later

On early Friday morning, Jim Gordon woke up to the most incredible sensation he had ever felt in his life. Oh my God… gah! His entire body tensed, and his trembling hands reached for something, anything to hold on to. His eyes rolled back in their sockets, and his heart beat wildly. He fought to control his heaving breath. With an effort, he threw the blankets off of him. From down below, Bruce paused what he was doing to look up for a moment, a devilish grin on his face, “Good morning, Jim,” before putting his warm mouth back to good use. He recaptured Gordon’s penis in his talented mouth, sucking, kissing, and licking. Gordon writhed and groaned shamelessly.

He felt his body instinctively move, but Bruce’s powerful arms held him down. The whole room was spinning. He swallowed hard. “Bruce…” he warned. He felt it coming, the electric current starting at the tip of his cock and slowly moving up his navel, threatening to explode in his chest. His lover ignored his cries. Gordon tried again, more urgently, “Bruce! Oh my God!”

Bruce changed tactics. He slowly licked the underside of Gordon’s shaft and softly blew on the moistened area. He let go of Gordon’s hips and let his fingers travel up the other man’s chest before bringing them back down to his thighs, leavening a trail of bright red scratch marks as he went. Bruce went down deeper, taking Gordon all the way into his mouth.

“Good Lord!” Gordon yelped. Bruce moaned in response, the vibration pushing Gordon teetering on the edge. “Bruce, please!” He frantically grabbed at Bruce’s hair to get him off him, trying to back away toward the bedpost. Bruce raised his face to looked Gordon dead in the eye, effectively pinning him down. Despite his highly aroused state, Gordon froze. Those eyes… that look… recognition finally dawned.

And that’s when he knew. The Thing.

The way the morning shadows played across his lover’s face. The steely determination in Bruce’s eyes to make it good for Gordon, to make it good for the both of them. The fierce set of his jaw, unwavering from the task at hand. The resolve and fortitude to complete what he had begun. The arrogant, unspoken command for Gordon to let it happen, to let Bruce do what he needed to do for him. The passionate, frustrated growl.

“Jim.”

Oh my God. It’s him!

Gordon immediately let go in a flash, and Bruce quickly went back to finish him off, gripping his hips harder to keep him still. Gordon fell back on to the bed, surrendering himself to the inevitable. He was seeing everything clearly. It all makes sense now… “Bruce!” he cried. Batman! He was babbling incoherently, his breathing made shallow and rapid.

Bruce growled once more, “Let go.”

Gordon obeyed. He felt the unmistakable surge of his orgasm bearing down on him, making every muscle in his body stretch taut. Bruce watched him and allowed his teeth to skim the sensitive skin and gave him one last delicious lick, and like that, Gordon exploded. It was almost too intense to bear, and for a moment, he stopped breathing.

Death and utter ecstasy.

Bruce—Batman!—watched him in the throes of orgasm, deep satisfaction etched on his handsome features. “Breathe, Jim, breathe,” he gently teased. He crawled up Gordon’s body and rested his chin on his lover’s chest, watching him catch his breath, enjoying the look of utter wantonness on the usually taciturn man. His eyes were drawn to the flush that had appeared over Gordon’s entire body. He echoed his thoughts from the previous night, “I love that look on you.”

Gordon looked at him.

Bruce answered the unasked question, “Just been fucked.” He grinned.

Gordon just closed his eyes, but there was a smile on his face.

After a few minutes, Gordon’s breathing returned to normal. He looked down at Bruce, who was still watching his every expression. He lifted a hand to touch Bruce’s face, and Bruce leaned into his caress.

I should tell him, Gordon thought. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes bright in wonderment, “Bruce, you’re—”

“Amazing?” Bruce inserted smugly.

Gordon shook his head. He started again, “You’re—”

“Incredible? Wonderful?” Bruce suggested.

“No, you’re—”

“A god among men?” Bruce, a playful smirk on his face.

Batman.

But Gordon instead agreed, “Yes.” Now’s not the time, but oh my God, oh my God! Batman just gave me an orgasm. I fell in love with the goddamned Batman!

Bruce grinned.

Batman! Gordon felt weak in the knees. Memories of last night flooded his senses. A night of delicious pain and perfect pleasure. His aching body reminded him of what they had shared between them. Oh my God. Bruce read his mind, a naughty smile appearing on his face. He looked ready for another round.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked subtly. Gordon shivered, and Bruce instinctively reached for the bedcovers. He placed it over them. Gordon shivered again. Bruce looked at him oddly, and began running a hand up and down his chest to help warm him up. “You okay?”

Gordon nodded quickly, eyeing Bruce—Batman!—a little apprehensively.

“You sure? Did I… did I hurt you last night?” Bruce sounded worried.

Gordon shook his head no.

Bruce studied him quietly. He spoke softly, “Having second thoughts?”

That shook Gordon out of his stupor. He involuntarily blurted out, “No! How could you think that?”

Bruce looked relieved. “Then what is it?”

Gordon raised himself up on his elbows, jostling Bruce from his position on his chest. “Um, do you want to take a walk by the lake?” Bruce was huge, powerful, and very physical. Gordon thought of the first neutral location that came to mind. This bed was definitely not the place to be having this conversation.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at the odd request. “No.”

“It’s really beautiful outside,” Gordon tried.

“No.”

“Maybe we could…”

“No, Jim.”

“Why not?” Gordon asked.

Bruce looked pointedly at their naked bodies, “We didn’t come up here for the scenery.”

“Oh.” Gordon blushed furiously, and he could feel Bruce smiling against his hot skin.

Bruce slowly crawled up his body, a wickedly feral look on his face. He draped his body over Gordon’s, pinning him between his hard body and mattress underneath. His body jerked in response when Bruce deeply bit into his shoulder. Gordon gulped.

The Thing could wait.

One Week Later

Detectives Gerard Stephens, Harvey Bullock, and Renee Montoya congregated on the rooftop of the GCPD precinct. The two men looked unhappy, while Montoya grinned shamelessly, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

“I knew it! I won!” she crowed. “Hand it over, boys. I totally called it.”

Bullock grudgingly handed over twenty dollars. He had predicted after Christmas. He mentally smacked himself on the forehead. Damn, I should’ve known better. He watched as his partner counted the bills carefully. He objected, “Hey!”

“Just making sure,” she said unrepentantly. She held out a hand toward Stephens. “Let’s see it, Gerry.”

Stephens reluctantly reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He had predicted Christmas Eve. He shook his head at his poor judgment. “Here,” he shoved the money at Montoya.

Montoya accepted her prize, counting the bills carefully. “Wait a second, you gave me forty. It’s only supposed to be twenty. Not that I’m complaining…” She looked at Stephens in question.

“The other twenty’s from Alfred,” he grumbled.

Montoya cackled, “I love that guy. What’d he say?”

“Christmas Day,” Stephens smirked. “Sentimental—you know how those Englishmen are.”

Bullock and Montoya both looked at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You’re the one who picked Christmas Eve,” Bullock reminded him.

Stephens shrugged. “Whatever.”

Renee Montoya looked at the sixty dollars she held in her hand. She had correctly predicted before Christmas. On Monday morning, Jim Gordon had arrived back in town from his four-day weekend with a very satisfied look on his face. The man looked sleep-deprived, but combined with the happy look that appeared on his flushed face whenever Bruce’s name was mentioned and the fact that he had been gingerly walking around in obvious pain for the past three days (“Uh, I think I, er, pulled a muscle,” he had lied unconvincingly)… well, having thoroughly studied the evidence at hand, hers was the only logical conclusion at which any good detective would have arrived. Well done, Detective! She congratulated herself since Bullock and Stephens obviously weren’t going to. She saw the disappointment on her colleagues’ faces and gave a dramatic sigh.

“Come on, boys, lunch is on me.”

That immediately cheered them up. They went back downstairs, stopping by Gordon’s office on their way out. Montoya poked her head in the doorway, “Commish, we’re going out to lunch. I’m buying. Wanna come along?”

Gordon looked up at the three of them hovering in his doorway. He considered the invitation and looked at the new pile of paperwork sitting on his desk. Without hesitation, he closed the file in front of him and carefully stood up, wincing slightly, to put on his coat. He smiled, “Okay.”

Montoya, Stephens, and Bullock grinned. The old Jim Gordon would have stayed behind, choosing to finish the paperwork on his desk. The old Gordon would have thought twice about joining the three of them for lunch, thinking of sensible-sounding reasons why he shouldn’t be fraternizing so casually with his subordinates.

He walked out the precinct with them, “Where to?”

“Oh, it’s nothing fancy. Nothing like you’re used to,” Montoya teased.

Bullock added, “There’s a new diner down a couple blocks from here. It ain’t the Ritz, but I hear their lunch specials are pretty good.”

“You’re gonna have to slum it today, Jim,” Stephens laughed.

Gordon just shook his head. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

They walked down the block toward the diner, talking about the restaurant scene around precinct. Bullock was complaining he was tired of eating at the same places over and over again. Montoya was giving Gordon a list of places where Gotham’s finest could expect a deep discount, an extra sandwich, a free slice of pizza, complimentary coffee and doughnuts, and more. Not that she ever partook, mind you. She made sure he knew that, but still, Gordon made a mental note to address this issue at the next department meeting. It wasn’t exactly illegal, but it certainly was not the wisest course of action for his officers to take. In a strange way, he felt encouraged that the GCPD had gone from a department filled with corrupt cops to cops on the doughnut take. He’d gladly take that any day.

Bullock and Montoya walked a few feet ahead, chattering excitedly between themselves. Gordon couldn’t keep up with their pace. He fell behind, and Stephens slowed down to wait for him. “You okay, Jim? You walk like you’re in pain.”

Gordon looked alarmed and immediately changed the subject. “So, what’s the special occasion?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The only time Montoya buys is if she wins a bet.”

Stephens remained silent, trying to think of a suitably vague response. He had forgotten whom he was talking to. Jim Gordon, nearly a twenty-year veteran on the force, former head of the Major Crimes Unit, and now commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department. Better tread carefully…

He stammered, “Oh, you know her. Just something stupid. It’s nothing, really.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to know, do I.”

“No, you don’t,” Stephens assured him. They began walking again at a more comfortable pace.

Gordon looked up ahead at Montoya and Bullock walking closely together, oblivious to everything else around them. He commented, “I hope Harvey knows what he’s getting himself into.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“What’d he say?”

“Denied it, of course.”

Gordon snorted. “They’re so obvious.”

“Yeah,” agreed Stephens, rolling his eyes when Gordon wasn’t looking. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Gordon smirked. He said half-jokingly, “Well, when we get there, I’m ordering the most expensive item on the menu. Serves her right.”

Stephens laughed out loud, clapping him on the back, “Yeah, you should. You earned it.” He immediately froze. Shit!

Gordon’s mouth dropped open in horror. He stopped dead in his tracks, his face burning red in embarrassment. “Gerry,” he pleaded, “please tell me the bet wasn’t about…”

Holy shit, shit, shit! Stephens quickly hurried up the street toward Montoya and Bullock. “Hey, you guys! Wait up for me!”

One Month Later

“Tell me how you knew,” Bruce softly demanded. He quickly straddled Gordon in the middle of the man’s bed. He grabbed the other man’s hands and pinned them above his head. Bruce kissed him on the lips, neck, behind his ear, trying to coax the answer from Gordon.

“No, Batman,” Gordon refused, giggling maniacally. He had just gotten home from work a few seconds before. He had walked into his apartment when heard Bruce call to him from upstairs. When he got to his bedroom, Bruce had immediately accosted him and thrown him onto the middle of the bed. Gordon’s keys were still in his pockets, and they were digging into his flesh. He couldn’t care less. Still laughing, he said, “Get off me, Batman.”

Bruce tried to reason with him, “What if other people found out? You wouldn’t want me to give myself away so easily, would you?” He pouted at Gordon.

The other man looked amused at his bluff, “Don’t worry, you won’t.” Not if I have anything to say about it.

“Gordon,” Bruce growled in his ear. “Tell me now.” Not knowing was driving him insane.

“Let me go, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll tell you… Batman,” taunted Gordon.

Bruce let out a sharp laugh. “Not really in a position to negotiate, are you.”

Gordon responded in a mock-offended tone, “Well, I am the police commissioner.”

“That reminds me,” Bruce reached one hand deeply into Gordon’s pockets, reached above Gordon’s head, and the older man heard the unmistakable ratchet sound of a pair of handcuffs locking together. He tried to jerk his hands free, but he was too late. He was handcuffed to his own bed. He looked to Bruce in alarm.

“Bruce!” He was now completely serious.

“Let the interrogation begin.” Bruce eyed his prisoner up and down like a man possessed. Gordon recognized the determined glint in his lover’s eyes. His mouth dropped open.

“Holy shi—”

Bruce laid a finger on his lips to quiet him. “Language, Commissioner. Now, would you like to tell me how you found out?”

Gordon shook his head no, maintaining eye contact. Bruce looked at him in approval.

“I see.” He eased off Gordon. Gordon frantically tried to get out of the handcuffs as Bruce watched him in amusement. Bruce removed his shirt and began unbuckling his belt. Gordon looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

“Bruce…”

“Yes? Do you have something to tell me?” Bruce stopped midway.

Gordon shut his mouth resolutely.

Bruce raised an eyebrow in question and waited.

Gordon shook his head no once again.

Bruce shrugged and let his belt join his shirt on the ground. He came back to straddle Gordon. Both men were highly aroused, and Bruce used that moment to grind his hips against Gordon’s.

“Bruce,” he groaned.

“Yesssss?” Bruce asked as he slowly unbuttoned Gordon’s shirt. Gordon again tried in vain to slip out of the handcuffs. “Careful, Commissioner, you don’t want to have explain where you got those marks,” warned Bruce with an evil smirk.

Gordon immediately stilled. Bruce definitely had the upper hand.

Gordon spoke defiantly, “I’m not telling you anything, Batman.” But he didn’t sound as confident as before.

Bruce smiled as he reached to unbutton his lover’s pants. He unzipped him and pulled his pants down. Gordon tried to scramble away, but Bruce’s hands gripped his thighs, holding him in place. Bruce reached into his boxers, finding him.

Gordon yelped, “The scars! It was the scars!”

Bruce looked him in the eye, shaking his head in disappointment. “You’re not a very good liar.” His fingers curled around Gordon’s shaft. He paused for dramatic effect, “I know you want to tell me. So tell me, I’m right here…” He began to stroke lightly from the base to the tip and back again, paying particular attention to the sensitive crown. Gordon gasped, and Bruce’s hand quickened its pace.

“Harder, tighter,” he pleaded. His stiff cock twitched with excitement.

Bruce smirked. “I’ll settle for when tonight. When did you find out?”

Gordon silently debated whether to answer the question or not. Bruce slowed his hand down to a stop.

“Please, Bruce,” Gordon begged.

“Tell me when,” Bruce responded, admiring his helpless form.

Gordon bit his lip. He shook his head.

“Okay…” Bruce made as if to withdraw his hand.

“The cottage,” Gordon breathed in barely a whisper.

“Hmmm?” He withdrew his hand.

“At the cottage,” Gordon said louder. “The cottage! Please!”

Bruce hand reached for him and began moving again, and Gordon moaned in relief. Bruce is Batman! Batman is Bruce! Say it! No, don’t say it! Dear God, don’t stop! Gordon’s mind was babbling incoherently. Bruce pulled his hand away, eliciting a broken moan from Gordon.

“Bruce!”

The younger man removed all his clothing and Gordon’s as well. He reached for the lubricant on the bedside table and returned to the bed. Gordon was breathing heavily in anticipation and excitement. Bruce placed Gordon legs over his shoulder and leaned forward.

He went slowly at first, gently applying the lube and inching in, giving Gordon time to relax. He withdrew and inserted more of his cock into him, making small, slow thrusts.

Gordon struggled underneath him to get his attention, rattling the handcuffs. “Bruce, harder.”

“Jim, I don’t want to hurt you...” Bruce said hesitantly.

“Harder.” He looked Bruce in the eye.

Bruce closed his eyes and slid in completely with a single hard thrust. Gordon cried out, jerking on the handcuffs. Bruce felt his muscles strain as he fought to keep them still for a moment. It felt like an eternity before he felt Gordon finally relax underneath him. He couldn’t help but look smugly down at him. Told you so. But Gordon looked back at him defiantly. Bruce smirked and pulled out halfway before driving fully back in. Gordon clenched his teeth at the pain, but refused to back down. He glared at Bruce, daring him to lose control. Frustration showed on his face when Bruce still wouldn’t move. Gordon opened his mouth to protest when Bruce suddenly moved fast and hard. Gordon hung on for dear life as Bruce pumped in and out as rapidly as he was capable of, frantic for completion.

The ‘interrogation’ was all but forgotten.

Half an hour later, Gordon lay on his back, facing the ceiling. His chest was still heaving. He looked at Bruce lying beside him, “Did you get what you wanted, Batman?”

Bruce laughed, “The interrogation did not go as smoothly as planned. The suspect was highly uncooperative. We’ll have to try again.” He looked at Gordon meaningfully.

Gordon gulped. He asked hesitantly, “Do you think you can remove these now?” He looked up at his hands chained to the bedpost with the handcuffs. The position he was in was not the most comfortable.

Bruce looked at him thoughtfully, “Maybe…”

“Bruce!” Gordon exclaimed.

“Okay, okay! Relax!” He laughed as he got out of bed and found Gordon’s trousers. He fished around in the pockets for the key.

Gordon enjoyed the view from where he was—not that he had much of a choice. His body felt incredibly sore, but he was getting used to it. A small price to pay, he smirked. He watched Bruce go through his pants pockets with the same determination he did most everything else in life. His Batman face, as Gordon’s mind referred to it in private. He considered their unusual relationship. He shook his head. Slow, Gordon, that was incredibly slow. Why didn’t you see it before? No wonder your department hasn’t been able to catch the Batman. He’s been in your bed this entire time. He threw his head back and laughed. Bruce looked at him sharply, but Gordon ignored him. The clues were there along, all right. He just never wanted to look. There were the scars, but that was easily explained away. Bruce’s great interest in his work. Again, not conclusive. The Thing could have been any different number of things. He watched Bruce search his other pockets. It all made so much sense now. There were other clues as well, but Gordon would never tell. For one, the obscure patterns Bruce absentmindedly traced on his chest, arms, and thighs after a bout of heated lovemaking. The outline of a bat. Gordon laughed again.

Bruce looked at him oddly, “What?”

“Nothing.” He gave Bruce an innocent smile.

Could this be love? Gordon hadn’t expected the intensity of his feelings toward Bruce. They threatened to overwhelm his senses. The book had missed that. He read about sex in described in such a technical, clinical way. The book hadn’t mentioned the feverish, sweaty tension. The delicious soreness in his body for days afterward, reminding him of the love and trust he and Bruce shared. The low, deep voice of his lover as he whispered hot words in his ear, words that had the power to instantly turn Gordon into a quivering mess.

Two weeks after they had returned from the cottage, Bruce had finally called him on it. Bruce knew that Gordon knew, and Gordon knew that Bruce knew that Gordon knew. But neither man was willing to be the first say it out loud. This Thing continued to be a game between them.

But Gordon had been the first to break. In the throes of orgasm, he had cried out, “Batman!” Bruce head had shot up in alarm and looked at him, puzzled. Gordon had looked right back at him in wide-eyed shock. Bruce had merely shrugged and went back to what they were doing. Gordon was still trying to live that down.

He smiled at the memory. He looked over at his lover fondly. “Hurry up, Bruce.”

Bruce suddenly looked up at him in real alarm. “Um, Jim, do you have the key?”

One Year Later

Commissioner Jim Gordon stood beside the rebuilt bat signal. He looked over the whole of Gotham awash in a sea of green, red, and gold. The sights and sounds of Christmas surrounded him, and he felt incredibly happy and content. His children would be arriving the following morning to spend their Christmas vacation with him. He hadn’t seen them since August when they had spent their summer with him and Bruce. Alfred had, of course, spoiled them rotten, letting them get away with things he and Bruce could only dream about. Gordon was thrilled with how his children had fallen in love with Bruce, and he with them. Although Gordon spoke to Babs and Jimmy on the phone every week, it wasn’t the same. He was looking forward to having them here with him again.

It began snowing softly, and in the distance, Gordon thought he could hear the voices of carolers spreading holiday cheer. It truly was the most wonderful time of the year.

He shivered in the cold, his fingers stiff, but he knew he’d be here soon. Batman. Gordon buttoned up his jacket and turned the collar up. He crossed his arms to keep warm. He stood closer to the bat signal for more warmth. The beam of light shone brightly into the night sky above. It burned fiercely, proudly.

Gordon waited. The past year, he and Bruce had been working together to clear Batman’s name without destroying everything they had worked for in the past. It was an extremely difficult task for the two of them, but Alfred had also helped. And Stephens. And Bullock and Montoya. Gordon was fairly certain his three detectives had no idea of Batman’s true identity, but he did wonder when this had suddenly become a group project. But it had worked. They had all worked tirelessly on it, their special project. And just earlier that evening, Gordon had returned from the mayor’s office with fantastic news. Pardoned. Cleared of all charges. It was nothing short of miraculous. Gordon had called Bruce right away to let him know. And now he stood waiting for a certain masked vigilante to make his grand appearance.

A soft, rustling sound let him know he was no longer alone. Batman stood a few feet away from him in full costume. A familiar, gravelly voice spoke, “You couldn’t have sent a text message instead?”

Gordon grinned in welcome. “Just wanted an excuse to turn it on for you.”

“Nice.” Gordon couldn’t tell if Batman was referring to the newly rebuilt signal or if it was Bruce appreciating the unintentional innuendo in Gordon’s words. Either way, the growl sent shivers up Gordon’s spine. That growl. One year later, and the sexual passion between them hadn’t subsided. That growl reminded Gordon of hard and sweaty bodies moving instinctively against one another, a wet, warm mouth applying pressure at all the right places, and insistent hands searching every inch of his naked body.

“Don’t use that voice up here,” he warned Batman.

Batman took a step closer, “What voice?” In a deeper tone this time.

Hands sliding up to grasp his. A sweat-slickened body pressing into him, pinning him down. Rough, insistent caresses. Gordon shook his head clear. He bit his lip. “Stop that,” he said in what he hoped was a commanding manner.

“Stop what?” Batman moved even closer toward him.

“You know what,” Gordon stood his ground, but his knees had gone weak. He saw Batman smile at that.

He stood only centimeters away from Gordon. “This?” in an intimate, sexy growl.

“Yes,” Gordon said weakly. He complained, “I’m trying to be professional.”

Batman pressed up against him, rubbing his suit against Gordon’s apparent hardness. “I can see that.”

Gordon glared back at him, and in a flash, Batman’s lips came down hard on his. His gloved hands threaded through Gordon’s hair, putting it in hopeless disarray. Gordon wanted to embrace him, to grip his arms tightly and never let go, but he was afraid what could happen if he tried to get closer. 60,000 volts of electricity? Flying daggers? He didn’t know what to do with his arms. Batman read his mind and took hold of his hands. He backed Gordon up against the wall and pinned his hands above them.

Gordon murmured even as he kissed back, “We shouldn’t be doing this here…” but his body had other ideas. Batman reached for Gordon’s belt buckle—

All of a sudden, the rooftop door flew open, and they immediately sprang apart. Montoya appeared from the doorway, a coffee pitcher in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other. “Commish, I thought you’d like some—holy shit! Hello, Batman!”

Batman shot Gordon a sneaky look before growling in response, “Montoya.”

Gordon subtly stepped into the shadows to hide his obvious arousal. Damn her. Why does is it always have to be her? “What is it, Renee?”

The future Mrs. Harvey Bullock showed him the pitcher and cup in her hand. “Thought you’d like something hot to keep you company.”

Gordon nearly choked at her poor choice of words, and Batman actually smirked. Montoya looked suspiciously from one man to the other. Something was up.

Gordon actually stuttered, “Th-thank you, Detective.” But he made no move to retrieve the items from her hands. Montoya shrugged and took one step toward him, and Gordon immediately raised a hand to stop her. He could feel Batman silently laughing in his direction. “Just-just put it down. Please.”

Montoya gave him a puzzled frown.

Gordon apologized, “Thank you, Renee, very much, but we just need to discuss some things.”

“Okay,” Montoya waited.

“Alone,” Gordon clarified.

“Oh, just you two?” She played innocent very well. “Nice seeing you again, Batman. Glad to have you back.” She gave a small wave in farewell, and the light from the bat signal caught the ring on her left hand, making it sparkle in the dark.

Batman spoke, “Congratulations, Detective.”

“Thank you!” Montoya replied with a happy expression on her face. She shut the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Gordon immediately glared at Batman with an ‘I told you so’ expression on his face. Batman pouted. Gordon had to laugh at the ridiculous picture he made.

Batman grinned. “Alfred wanted to remind you he’s available to pick the kids up tomorrow. He’d be happy to do it if you’d like.”

“No, no, I’ll do it myself.”

“Okay, but he also wants to take them to the zoo or some butterfly conservatory of all places. He’s been hinting very heavily about it, but he doesn’t want to interfere with your time with the kids. He really wants to take them to see the butterflies. He might have promised them that last time they were here.” Batman pled on behalf of his butler.

Gordon smiled. “Not a problem.” He looked over at the bat signal and followed its powerful beam of light into the night sky. A signal of hope, new beginnings, and the promise of good things to come. He looked back at Batman, but he had vanished.

Just like old times, he thought. He turned around to leave the rooftop and found himself face to face with Batman standing close beside him. “Oh, there you are.” Gordon kissed him. “Be careful out there. I’ll see you tonight.” He winked. “And bring the suit. I want to finish what we started.”

Batman let out a sharp laugh. Nevertheless, he nodded to Gordon before jumping off the parapet and gliding out into the darkness. Gordon rushed to the edge of the building, watching as Batman gracefully glided to safety. He breathed a sigh of relief. Batman knew what he was doing, but Gordon couldn’t help but worry. He continued watching until Batman disappeared from his view. He stood on the rooftop a little while longer before turning to go back inside.

He purposefully left the light on.

As Gordon returned to his office, he did not notice Montoya watching him carefully from her desk. She rolled her eyes. As if she hadn’t known already. But it still felt very to have her suspicions confirmed. Commish going up to the roof to converse with Batman. Comes back down with hair in total disarray. It was cold tonight, but definitely not windy. Commish only looked like that after Bruce was done with him.

It was Bruce.

Had to be.

Bruce is Batman.

Montoya waited for the shock to hit her. But it never came. She shrugged and went back to work. It all made perfect, obvious sense. It was as plain as black and white.