Bruce woke up sixteen hours later and started
pacing back and forth in the living room. It occurred to him that his
letter—the one where he talked about Crane—had already been delivered to
Gordon. He paced for quite a long time, considering the possible consequences.
Then suddenly, without a word, he went down to the cave, picked up his cowl,
and left.
Now, Batman walks through a snowy white
corridor in the second floor of the GCPD building. He unexpectedly runs into
Selina sitting in a bench—her wounded arm has been bandaged. She smiles seeing
him and stands up.
“How was the sleep?” she asks.
“Good,” Batman replies. “What are you still
doing here?”
“Still? They
didn’t detain me! I mean, they tried to arrest me for some old housebreaking
incident but didn’t have probable cause,” she says and then whispers, “What can
I say? I’m good at my job.”
“Is that a confession?” Batman emulates
seriousness.
“Yes. Go ahead and arrest me.”
“Maybe later.”
Selina laughs.
“But really, what are you doing here?” Batman
asks.
“I just returned to give a statement.”
“Oh.”
She gets closer to him. “Don’t worry,” she
whispers. “I won’t tell them about Harley.”
Batman nods in gratitude. He notices two
officers in the corridor, staring at them curiously. They must be wondering
what the Bat and the Cat are chatting about.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he tells Selina and
approaches the officers. They step back.
“What do you want?!” One officer blurts.
“I need to speak to Gordon. Do you know where
he is?”
“I went to his office just a while back,” the
other officer says. “He wasn’t there.”
Batman thanks them and strides past. “He must
be on the roof then,” Bruce thinks as he reaches the foot of the stairs at the
end of the corridor.
As he expected, Gordon is leaning over the
railing, alone, smoking a cigarette and staring at the city lights. If you pay
enough attention, you can catch the lights going out, one by one, as the
Gothamites dim their lamps and slip into their beds. Soon, only the street
lights will remain. Even they will be obscured by the invading fog and
crickets.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Gordon says without
turning back.
Silence.
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry, Gordon,” Bruce finally speaks.
“You are a terrible friend, do you know that?”
Silence again.
“We have failed, Batman. This crusade has been
in vain. We thought we could clean up this city. We thought we could help those
lunatics … We were wrong and now my daughter is dead.”
“We got Joker, didn’t we?” Batman says.
Gordon turns around and throws away his
cigarette in anger. “For goodness sake, is that what this is to you? Just a
case? Oh we got the bad guy. Case solved. Everything is good now!”
Batman wavers. “That’s not what I meant,
Gordon.”
“I know, I know!” Gordon growls and then takes
a moment to collect himself. “It’s just how I’ve been coping. I’ve been blaming
all this on you. It’s … I’m sorry. You’re my only real friend in this city. You
can’t tell but I’m actually glad to see you.”
Batman wonders if Gordon received the letter.
If he did, he shouldn’t have been acting this leniently. “Did you get the
letter?” Batman directly asks.
Gordon squints and reaches into his coat
pocket. He brings out an yellow envelope. “It was from you? Came from an
anonymous source, so I didn’t open. These letters never carry any good news,
you know? Tips and all that. Sure, they are invaluable. Without your tips
throughout the years, we’d have been helpless but they also mean more work and
I’m not currently—”
“Listen, Gordon,” Batman interjects, “this is a
different letter. And…”
Gordon shoots him a confused look. “And what?”
“If you read it, you’ll learn some things about
me that will make you hate me, drive you to end our friendship.”
“But you wrote
the letter, right? I don’t understand. Why would you write something like that
about yourself?”
“Because it’s true.”
Batman walks forward, leans over the railing
and stares at the cityscape—almost all the lights have gone out now. Beside
him, Gordon pockets the envelope and lights another cigarette. “I’ll mull it
over then,” he says. “Also, listen, I haven’t had the time to arrange a funeral
but I’m working on it. I want you to be there. You can come as you are. It won’t
be a problem. Bring your boy too if you can.”
Silence. Batman has
never hated himself more.
Points: 755
Reviews: 29
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