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Jim Gordon fits, objectively speaking, among the category of people you commonly call 'good persons'. Forever ready to help everyone, this ancient military turned policeman is a loving husband, a devoted friend and a proud father.
Over his mid-twenties, marrying his teenage love interest Eileen, with whom he nurtured a relationship from the era they were both seventeen years old high schoolers, used to be the most beautiful day of Jim's life. Two years later, the first place of this podium switched to the 23 of September, the day of birth of their daughter Barbara. Jim always relied on a soft spot when it comes to interacting with children, he envisioned himself as a good parent since way back... and indeed became one, happily stepping in the role of the jolly father of a little princess he spoiled, promised to forever protect, love and support.
Six years later, the family would have welcomed another member. He assisted Eileen the best he could over the weeks, her second pregnancy revealing itself to be difficult compared to their first born's. She was thirty-three while she had been twenty-seven for Babs, the age gap didn't play in her favour.
Jim, Eileen, Barbara and James Junior should have embodied, in a cliché-like though lovely manner, the typical picture of a joyous middle-class American family with a working husband, an housewife and two kids living in a modest albeit pretty residential district.
Either life or the God he believes in since his youngest age, having been raised in a protestant Christian home, thanked him for his devotion to his country, its population and his faith. Jim sincerely assumed something or someone watched over him, helped him through and offered him the family life he dreamed of.
Some would say it's worth it to be good, when you are so fairly rewarded.
Yet... bad things happen to good persons too.
Death doesn't discrimate between the sinners and the saints. It just takes, and takes, and we keep living anyway.
At present, Jim removed his glasses to press a tissue against his eyes and wipe the hot tears that gathered to the point they spilled out, flooding on his face while his shoulders trembled under the uncontrollable hiccups.
Both knees on the floor in his bedroom, he had to interrupt his prayer, crying and shaking too much, too exhausted, too unable to organize his thoughts to go on with the Ave Maria mantra before talking to the Lord.
Eileen may not be a believer, she respects his faith, and comes with him to the Mass periodically. Jim never minded that his wife doesn't share his culture, he agreed to their children being free to choose what they want to admire. He won't push an ideology, he simply planned on raising them in a believing household.
Not that any of that mattered today.
Jim's perfect little world had been shattered to pieces. Irremediably broken.
Nothing will ever be the same anymore.
Why did he bother to be good his whole life, if it's to be punished like every other sinner when he was enjoying his most fulfilling, happiest years?
💝✨💝
"Ave Maria... Gratia plena... Maria, gratia plena..."
All dressed the same, the boys from the choir were singing the Ave Maria prayer.
Sitting on a wooden chair in the church next to him, Barbara took her father's hand; they shared a small smile.
His seven years old girl and him attended the service this Easter sunday, three months after the accident.
"They sing very well," his kid remarked innocently, her big chocolate brown eyes riveted on the group of boys neatly aligned behind the priest who will recite the Mass.
"Ave, ave dominus... Dominus tecum..."
Jim answered her questions on the ritual chorus, fond of the way his baby girl seemed admirative of the harmonious melody and the fact the boys sing in latin.
While Babs watched over with her ever-lasting, adorable curiosity, both hands pressed together her birther prayed for Junior's soul. He also prayed for his story with Eileen not to be over: she left for the past two weeks, needing time alone at her mother's to pull herself together. Jim hoped she will... come back.
"Benedicta tu in mulierbius... Et benedictus, et benedictus fructus ventris... Ventris tui, lesus. Ave Maria..."
At the end of the service, the priest thanked the Matron of Wayne Orphanage, one of the nuns who participated to the holiday ceremonial.
This month of April being especially sunny and warm, Jim gladly agreed with his daughter's suggestion to spend the beginning of afternoon in the public garden close to the church before heading back home.
He held her hand when they exited the religious establishment. From the corner of his eye, Jim isolated one of the choir boys from earlier. His comrades more or less scattered in small groups to chat together after they finished their singing; as for him this one reached a corner of the church, close to the entry, sat on the cold stone floor and seized an old book, sporting the recognizeable expression of someone who doesn't want to be disrupted.
Babs let out a jovial commentary about the rejoicing weather when they arrived outside. Jim tried to ignore the feeling of being... bothered, that surged inside him when his eyes landed on that kid.
Something inherited from his job and his position as a father, like an instinct: he consistently identifies when a child is in pain yet is too afraid to ask for help.
"May I, Sister?"
The nun addressed him a potent smile, Jim sat on the bench next to her.
Babs and him played under a few fond glances from other families who enjoyed a Sunday off at the park. James is the kind of dad who willingly does everything with his girl, from playing with a ball to rolling in the grass or doing exaggerated monster noises while trying to catch her, under the kid's roaring laughter.
Barbara is a strong child. She did her best to help her father and mother through. It worked, at least enough for Jim to maintain a happy facade that... tentatively concealed his broken heart.
They settled at a playground afterwards, Jim let her in after making sure the slides are not too dangerous for a seven years old, and concurred to sit at one of the locations outside the space made for kids, like the other parents who watch over.
Among them, a couple of nuns: James recognized most of the choir boys at the playground or in the grass around. They removed their traditional clothes and opted for tee-shirts plus shorts adapted to the clement temperature.
The kid from earlier doesn't participate to the agitation. He withdrew, surely going as far as the Sisters allowed not to be out of sight, he sat at the foot of an oak and resumed his reading, patently not interested by speaking to the rest of the world.
Jim conversed with the nun when an ice cream van parked close to the playground... what provoked an expected agitation: most of the children rushed toward their parents to blackmail them for money and get a quality snack.
"Daddy, can I have ice cream please?" Barbara acted like her pairs, granting Jim a wide smile and her best puppy dog eyes.
As if she needed to convince him: her dad never refuses her anything.
"Of course, sweetheart."
She asked politely if he wants one too, the policeman declined and told her to order whatever she found appetizing. She thanked him before running to the van eagerly.
"You have a lovely child."
Jim smiled with tenderness.
"She is my greatest pride."
They watched the children playing. Jim didn't underline it out loud however he noted how the orphans hadn't reacted to the ice cream perturbation: contrary to the other kids, they... stayed still, some watching the cones with wonder but none querying one.
Given the state of their clothes stitched at multiple spots, it doesn't take a genius to guess the orphanage lacks of incomes and therefore, can't afford extras for the children hosted there when they go outside.
"Sister, may I ask you something?" Jim inquired at some point, a knot forming in his stomach.
The woman approved, ready to assist a fellow believer.
"My faith has been... tested, lately," he summarized. "By a tragic loss. I am not sure my wife and I... handle it the right way."
Encouraged by Sister June, Jim developed and confessed he also feels selfish for not... giving this strong dose of love he felt for his unborn child to someone else. Someone who would desperately need a home... like an orphan. He prepared the arrival of his son, awaited for a boy in his life, and... hadn't reported this affection to another living being. Eileen suggested they adopt, to give another baby this chance, nevertheless the transition from a biological kid he'll never have to a stranger he'd welcome under his roof remained... difficult for Jim.
Surely broaching this topic with a nun who works in an orphanage can help him see clearer.
✨
"Will I have a new little brother?"
Jim and Eileen shared an, albeit tired, determined glance. They beat around the bush long enough, they will finally take a step forward. Jim had also been acutely relieved to find out his wife never planned on leaving Babs and him behind.
"We have an important choice to make."
Barbara likes it when her parents speak to her like she was a grown-up: in the living room, during dinner, with their serious expression on. They wanted to ask for her opinion, they wouldn't take such a major decision without her approval.
"Will Junior know about this?"
Jim's throat tightened. Eileen answered their daughter's question:
"He probably will. And this child won't... be a substitute. He will be his own person. We believe we can... offer the love we were about to give Junior to another boy who as for him, doesn't have a mom and dad."
From an impartial point of view, Babs deemed it rather logical: her parents lost their baby, now they will take in an orphan who lost his parents. It seemed a... fair exchange.
She addressed them a luminous smile.
"I will love him just like I loved Junior already!"
The Gordons hugged in the living room, sealing this sort of deal to welcome a boy in the family.
The tomorrow day, Jim and Eileen crossed the line: they called Wayne Orphanage to reserve a meeting with the Matron, the person in charge at this religious institution, and build their file in order to enter into the Gothamite adoption process.
✨
It was a sunny day, most of the boys and girls were outside, playing together.
Edward was outside too for the sole reason he's been forced to go out. He hastily snatched a puzzle from the common room and hid behind the chapel when Sister Giles scolded him, again, for not wanting to integrate.
He didn't retort. He lives in the orphanage since he is a baby, after even his parents rejected him... if he were capable to 'integrate' somewhere, he would have done it already!
So there, Ed stayed outside, luckily out of sight from the other orphans, doing his puzzle, in his own bubble.
The nuns warned them they have visitors this week, they need to appear 'decent'. Summer is the time of the year over which most adults wanting to adopt go to Wayne Orphanage. Like a... peculiar vacation planning, over which couples or single parents inform themselves and / or get involved with the residents.
Not that Eddie minded any of this.
He made his peace with the objective fact he won't ever be adopted, consequently he didn't even bother to get closer when he heard a car parking in the space reserved for visitors. If those people adopt a resident, he is certain he won't be the lucky fellow. Why would he waste his time and his energy projecting, hoping for something that will never happen? He'd better stay alone in the shadows.
Firmly resolute not to interact with guests and used anyway to no one paying attention to him (unless it's to bully him), Eddie startled when someone stood next to him.
"Oh, sorry," a stranger Ed is convinced he saw at the local church once or twice raised his hands to the level of his shoulders, bringing the visual signal of 'worry not, I am not a danger'. "Didn't mean to scare you," he went on with a calm voice typical of people who are used to be patient. "I saw you there after praying at the chapel, I... thought I could take a closer look. What are you doing?"
Ed tensed mildly when the man, in his mid-thirties with an impressive mustache above his upper lip and glasses on his nose, crouched next to him.
"I like puzzles," the kid showed his half-fulfilled plate picturing a predominantly purple drawing of the Cheshire cat. "I've done the ones stored in the main room a million times, but... there are no others. Are you here to adopt?"
Not a smart inquiry: why else would an adult visit this depressing mansion?
"I am. We met Sister Giles, the Matron, she encouraged my wife and I to... get acquainted with the surroundings. I found myself stopping at the chapel to ask for an advise."
"To God?"
He nodded quietly. Ed adjusted his own glasses, an indifferent expression painted onto his features.
"I see you at the church when I sing with the choir. You are a believer."
This was an affirmation, not a question, Jim didn't mistaken the two in the boy's straightforward tone.
"I am not," the child opposed a hint dryly. "I may learn my prayers and read the Bible, I don't believe in any form of religion. Most children here are catholics or protestants though, you will easily find one who shares your faith."
"You think this is a criterion for me?" Jim confronted, kinda amused by the kid's repartee. "My wife is an atheist, we raise our daughter together in the respect of both cultures."
Eddie blinked, a tad surprised the guy engaged in a... conversation.
"Why are you wasting your time with me?" He wavered, not getting the man's abrupt concerned expression at this specific phrasing. "Anyone else will be a better option."
"... I don't 'waste my time', I am here to spend a moment with the children. I'm James Gordon, and that was a real pleasure meeting you," he rounded off in this same considerate intonation. "What's your name?"
"Edward," he introduced himself, suddenly shy. "Thank you for... talking to me. It's... very nice of you."
Feeling sorry for him, Jim understood that boy is... unused to receive even the smallest act of kindness.
"Edward?" The Matron quoted, once Jim and Eileen returned to her office to evoke the boys they interacted with today; Gordon asked for more about a kid he spoke to, whom he only heard the first name of. "There are no residents known under this name in the orphanage."
Jim's brows furrowed. Alright he doesn't sleep well since Eileen lost the baby, nonetheless he wouldn't have imagined the little boy?! Right?
"About this height," he placed his right hand below chest level. "I'd say ten / eleven years old, hazelnut-golden hair, pale complexion with tiny freckles, round cheeks but thin frame, green eyes and thick glasses with the left lens partly cracked. He was doing a puzzle behind the outside chapel."
"Oh."
The Matron's gaze darkened.
"That's Thomas. He... wants to change his name to 'Edward', he asks everyone to call him 'Ed' or 'Eddie'. As if that was up to him."
Jim and Eileen shared an unsure glance.
"Why does he insist?" The redheaded woman demanded: while she hadn't talked to the boy, this unusual presentation intrigues her too.
The nun sighed. According to her pinched expression, she would have preferred dwelling on any other case than that child's.
"He is a... problem kid," she revealed, picking her words prudently. "I'm sorry you were subjected to him. Edward Elliot is the name of the man who fulfilled an adoption procedure for him," she unveiled upon getting the couple won't let go until they obtained coaxing informations. "He died five years ago, a week before the final signature that would have made him Thomas' legal guardian."
"Poor dear," Eileen deplored.
As for him Jim's frown deepened.
"Edward Elliot... why does this name ring a bell..."
"He was a journalist," the Matron exposed casually. "Last time I saw him, he told Tommy and I he had a major reveal to make about Thomas and Martha Wayne plus their at-the-time Renewal funds, when Mr Wayne ran for mayor. Elliot died roughly a week before our benefactor and his wife's gruesome murder."
Jim felt like he had been punched. He read Elliot's file albeit the investigation itself was handed over to one of his esteemed colleagues, Renee Montoya. He remembered discussing with Renee how sad it was that the journalist will never be a parent while he was, indeed, engaged in the process of adopting from an orphanage. He hadn't lingered however, simply remembered he felt bad for the kid, whom on top of being an orphan lost the man about to become his father before being given a second chance at a family life.
"He should have become 'Thomas Elliot'," she finished to unmask the grim details. "He never overcame the loss, furthermore he holds the Waynes accountable to this day. He argued he is ashamed to wear the same name as Thomas Wayne and asks to be called Edward since then. Most of the Sisters and the other children indulge him, as for myself I don't think it is a good idea. Truth be told we... mostly follow his psychiatrist's advises."
"His psychiatrist?"
"The doctor Jonathan Crane," she fished a card from her desk, as to prove they hired someone to handle a complicated case. "He tried to help us understand him. It's a lost cause, though," she scoffed, causing Jim's blood to boil in his veins. "Mr and Mrs Gordon, adopting a child is not an easy decision. So a mentally unstable pre-teen? Surely you don't want to take such a burden in your home. Now, let me tell you about our more presentable and younger boys."
Jim's disagreeable feeling augmented the entire time he listened to her.
✨
Like most parents, Jim and Eileen didn't hurry to choose a child at random. The adoption of a grown kid is a long procedure, even if their file had been rapidly approved: a home with two parents, a father in the police, an housewife and a child is an easier dossier than for example a single parent who has no experience with children and works every day.
Like what Edward Elliot would have been, yet he was validated and he would have become that boy's hope at a brighter future.
Whereas he interacted with other kiddos at the establishment, Jim's mind constantly drifted back to that one.
Today, Eileen and him asked for a moment with Edward, who arrived, timorous, in the office where he usually meets his doctor, in the less dirty aisle of the orphanage.
"I wanted to give you this."
Eddie blinked when the man, James Gordon, handed over a package covered of yellow gift wrapping.
"I..."
"It's alright," the cop assured, a protective warmth pooling in his heart when he noticed the tears that gathered in the kid's eyes at the view of a present. "It's not much, just... something to give you a bit of variety."
Drops of salty water, comparable to ovoid translucent diamonds, fell on the bared box of a puzzle. A new one, that he, therefore, hadn't tried yet.
"Th-thank you... That's s-s-so gen-generous of you... You... sh-sh-shouldn't have... I... I can't... can't repay you..."
Jim reminded the quasi afraid boy this is a gift, thereby they don't strive to be repaid. The policeman felt... truly wretched for him, seeing the kid worked up at the mere idea someone could give him something he likes for free. Eileen promised Ed it is nothing.
They had to give that sweet and miserable youngster tissues and reassure him when they broached the adoption field, because the child started to sob, overwhelmed due to the feelings caused by adults being kind to him.
Jim discerned the way he froze when Eileen stood up and hugged him, then progressively melted into the embrace, in tears and trembling like a leaf, as if he couldn't believe someone would want to do anything for him.
"Autistic. Suffering of severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorders inherited from his early childhood. Prone to breakdowns. Critical trust issues, especially towards adults. Frequent nightmares. Uncomfortable with too many people around. Asthmatic. Fragile health," Jonathan Crane rendered his diagnosis in a clinical, detached manner that made him sound like a robot. "I follow him for years, he makes very little to zero progresses. He is not a good party for a serene adoption."
"... Is that what you tell him?" Jim inferred, his jaw clutched and anger flowing in his veins. "That he is... a lost cause?!"
"The Matron of the orphanage repeats that all the time, I line up with her discourse," the psychiatrist shrugged, unbothered by the policeman's blatant disgust. "Plus he developed a bit of an obsession with Bruce Wayne, between an unhealthy fascination and the hatred he nurtures for him as he thinks his family is responsible for Edward Elliot's death. Believe me, Mister Gordon. Any other kid, even with a difficult background, will be less troubles than this one."
When Jim left the doctor's office, he was invaded by... plain rage. He forced himself to evacuate the ire, as this is not a noble sentiment, still he... didn't understand why so many people were so unfair and passably horrible with that poor boy.
✨
Edward was crying.
He couldn't believe what was happening.
A part of him was convinced it's a sick joke from people who will throw him to the trash the instant this is over. His other side blamed him internally, repeating over and over he doesn't deserve what this nice man and his wife were offering to him.
His identity papers had been updated to 'Edward Gordon'. Tomorrow, he will leave Wayne Orphanage. He will get out of this Hell. He will begin a... new life...
"Shut da fuck up, you moron!" the boy lying on the thin soiled mattress next to his hissed furiously as Eddie whimpered, unable to muffle his sobs in his flat pillow.
Ed didn't reply. He curled up, wobbling, doing his best to temper down his pitiful whining.
Tomorrow, he will get out of here.
Tomorrow...
For as joyful as he was nevertheless, he couldn't stop crying, couldn't keep at bay the fear creeping its way up his mind: what if the Gordons grow tired of him? What if they realize sooner than later that they don't want such a freakshow under their roof? What if they... return him to the orphanage, to pick a less problematic child like they should have done initially?!
Edward was smiling so much his cheeks hurt, when he buckled his safety belt in Jim Gordon's car at the end of the afternoon.
"Is everything alright?"
He nodded vigorously.
"Better than alright! I... I am very happy..."
Alongside a supportive smile, Jim ruffled his golden hair with affection, a natural gesture he performs regularly with his daughter... and that made Eddie yelp with glee, fond of this authentic demonstration of affection.
And he felt relieved, at last, when the car departed from Wayne Orphanage with no going back.
No more lies: this was real. He really escaped, he really found a family...
When they reached their destination, Jim let him push the door of a modest though coquettish house in a pretty Gothamite district made of relatively identical habitations. Eileen and him threw a 'welcome' party, a reduced version compared to a baby shower: introducing their freshly-adopted eleven years old to a great big bunch of friends all at once risked to scare the kid, it's better to keep him strictly in the close family circle at the beginning.
Eddie cried when he stepped in and spotted a paper garland tagged 'Welcome home, Edward'.
Before he could say anything, a girl dressed with a blue and grey dress hurried to the entry, followed by her mother. Barbara jumped toward him... and promptly hugged him.
"Welcome to our family, Edward!"
Worried she misbehaved, Babs took a step back when seeing him cry and shake violently... and felt reassured when Jim put a hand on Eddie's shoulder, what made the boy smile through his tears.
For once, he was not crying because he felt sad. He was crying because he... foresaw a better future. He was allowed to hope.
✨
"Why do you like riddles?"
Eddie smiled at Babs' innocent question. The little girl was like glue: she followed him everywhere and was the... sweetest thing ever. She is a veritable joy to be around.
"Life is... full of questions," he enunciated gently, fixing his new glasses on his nose. "But I prefer to think of them as riddles. To me, they are an entertaining way to view the world. Moreover, they... help. I often think of... too many things at the same time. Sometimes it is... tiring. My brain gets... submerged, flooded by too many informations. When I conjure up riddles, they aid to convene one question then another, to... arrange my thoughts."
Barbara commented without making fun of him, contrary to most of the orphans who judged he is 'weird', 'creepy' and / or 'a complete idiot' when they witnessed his breakdown episodes. Their contemptuous laughters, mean remarks and derogatory insults will stuck with him, hurting deeper than the blows and the bruises he collected under their fists and kicks.
The younger Gordon was nothing like this. She never despises him or mocks his habits. Eddie could infodump about physics, literature, nerdy anecdotes or digital codes, Barbara listened to everything with rapt attention.
She was particularly interested by his knowledge related to computer programs. Ed never owned a laptop, he trained at school with the old machines and the rare times he was driven to a library. He has an undeniable talent when it comes to computer engineering.
Perhaps he'll teach his sister how to become a proper hacker when she is slightly older?
"Who is James Junior?"
Jim looked up. He was watering the cherry tomatoes in the small though ingeniously disposed garden this morning, when his son stood by his side and greeted him by this diffident question.
Being the 'early bird' type, during summer the policeman discreetly leaves his parental bedroom without waking Eileen up, he often goes out to relax on the terrace prolonged by a neat square of grass and a vegetable garden.
Apparently Ed either couldn't sleep late today or he heard him open the bay window although he was extra cautious not to disturb the tranquil calm of the house.
"Barbara mentioned him yesterday," he admitted, a hint sheepish, looking utterly adorable in the Power Rangers pajamas they bought over his first week here.
Which had been an whole adventure given the fact the kid couldn't bring himself to explicitly ask for anything, too shy and too unused to be gifted things, even when it comes to shopping for ordinary and necessary clothes. He stuttered and hugged Jim, Eileen and Babs, invaded by a pure sense of elation until then unknown for him.
"She... indicated she should have had a younger brother," Ed bit his lower lip and shifted from one foot to another, uncomfortable. "Does that mean you... had a blood son? If you... if you want to respond! I... don't want... t-t-to impose... I'm just c-curious..."
"It's fine. You have every right to ask questions."
Jim offered him a comforting smile to appease him, then put his now empty metallic watering can back on the ground. He invited the kid to sit with him on the edge of the ceramic slabs forming the terrace, at the frontier between the white casing and the mellow green grass.
Eddie felt his heartbeat increasing. He didn't rush his legal guardian, patiently waiting for him to make up his mind... or to avoid the topic. An option Jim tossed aside as he murmured:
"Eileen was five months pregnant when she lost our second-born. At Gotham General. She has been transferred to the hospital in emergency after a car accident that occurred while she was with a friend of hers. Her friend died, by miracle Eileen escaped with superficial injuries and a broken wrist, healed by now, but the violence of the collision was too intense for her body. She had what you call a shock-induced late miscarriage. That's the... medical term."
Jim took a deep breath, to force the dim shaking of his voice not to escalate into an outright impossibility to pursue.
"I... I wasn't even there," he resumed his tale, tears audible in his voice although he managed to keep them under control so far. "I was on a police intervention with work partners at a drug dealer's hideout, and Barbara was at school. Only after my colleagues and I finished the operation did I... receive a call from the Commissioner Loeb who had been... contacted by Gotham General while my wife was on the operating block. At least I... was by her side when she... woke up..."
Jim felt profundly touched upon seeing... the tears that had rolled down the boy's cheeks.
"Am I... am I s-s-sleeping in his be-bedroom?" Eddie pointed out feebly.
"... There are three bedrooms in Eileen and I's home," Jim confirmed in a biased manner. "Plus a fourth space that serves as an office, but... too small and on the ground floor."
As for them the three bedrooms plus the bathroom are located above, next to each other at the first floor.
"As I told you, we can fully re-decorate yours the way you prefer. Including changing the colors of the walls if you'd like that. This being said... yes, it should have been JJ's space. Although in all likelihood, over the first months his cradle would have been placed in Eileen and I's bedroom," he added a touch of humor. "Barbara started sleeping in hers when she was two, not before."
Eddie snuggled next to him. Jim smiled with genuine tenderness, he placed his left arm over the kid's shoulders to bring him closer.
"Do not worry," the policeman reassured him. "You are not here to 'replace' JJ or anything like that. Eileen and I realized we had all this love stored in our hearts for a boy in our household and we... couldn't let it vanish into the Void. You lost your blood parents, we lost our biological son. We can... learn how to cope together. As a family."
Eddie hugged him tighter.
"... James Junior w-w-would have been v-v-very lucky... to gr-grow up w-w-with a father li-like you."
Jim held him close all the while the kid cried.
✨
"We are baking pumpkin pie!" Barbara claimed forcefully.
Jim smiled fondly when he entered the kitchen... and stumbled upon his kids practicing an adorable bonding activity. Equally born in September, his freshly-turned twelve years old son searched an autumn-inspired recipe and his eight years old daughter proudly took the lead of the cooking pastime.
Flour already clouded both lenses of Edward's glasses, Babs managed to have white specks of flour strewn on her fluffy brown hair, tied today in two high pigtails.
For sure this will be... memorable.
In itself, cooking became a cheerful family activity.
Whereas their first attempt at a pumpkin-flavoured dessert ended an hilarious disaster, after a few experiments, Ed realized he loves cooking... and after a handful of batches of tasty pumpkin cookies, he achieved what will become a traditional pumpkin pie.
The four of them were having hot cocoa on the couch; they hurried back inside when the storm reinforced. The garden wrapped in its powdery, snowy coat, it became too cold to stay longer outside.
From behind the bay window of the living room, their freshly-built snowman watched the family with its tiny blue eyes: two buttons from an old coat used for this great upgrade.
Eddie curled up next to Jim, Babs between him and Eileen.
They enjoyed everything about these Christmas holidays.
✨
Eileen died when Barbara was eleven and Edward fifteen.
She carried a heart condition what was nothing worrisome beforehand. She takes a daily treatment since her miscarriage; scanners at the hospital, after her car accident, revealed a fragility located in her cardiac muscle, inherited from her father who died of a heart attack... since it's a recurring pattern in her family, she took the warning seriously.
To her best belief, Eileen was not sick, she simply needed a medication supplement every evening before going to bed to keep her body at a functioning state.
This fateful morning she had woken up nauseous, told her husband she requires an additional resting time... and when Eddie checked on her a bit later, to propose a slice of the toasts and jam he set up for breakfast, he let out a bone-deep scream when his instinct understood what happened to her prior his mind rationalized the dire scene.
On each sides of their dad, all three dressed in black, Babs and Ed hugged Jim at the end of the ceremony in the graveyard.
Afterwards they... took care of him.
Jim has been granted a paid leave to deal with the sorrow, he was no longer going to the GCPD Headquarters daily aside from the weekends. Notwithstanding this, he would have had a much harder time to cope if it wasn't for his children's dedication.
A week after the cemetery episode, the most painful moment of Jim's life, he was unable to restrain burning tears as he ate the pumpkin pie Ed and Babs baked, chatting lightly and doing their best to appear the most supportive possible to assist their father despite their own pain.
Jim hugged the two of them wordlessly, pulling them close, never wanting to let them go. He loves them so much. His daughter and son. The lights of his days.
Predictably, the Gordons never fully 'recovered' from the loss. After a full year nonetheless, the family had taken new habits to move forward.
They live at another place, solding the house seemed a fitting alternative to progress, given all the memories they forged together in this home. In their new home, a modern apartment complemented by a large terrace, Eddie became more responsible, handling lots of aspects of their family life. Jim works at the GCPD and Barbara studies hard to enter college. Hence, since being a genius never meant he did well at school, he... took the role of caretaker in their household.
Made Jim's lunch on the morning when his dad will spend all day out. Kept the rooms clean. Prepared dinner the most often. Organized funny days out for them during the weekends. Helped Babs for her homeworks.
Jim was very proud of him. His model son.
✨
"I studied everything."
Barbara laughed at how confident her brother sounded. He transformed the bathroom into a chemistry laboratory after making multiple attempts on small samples once he watched a series of YouTube tutos to compare the best technics with hair textures analogous to his sister's and meticulously searched on the Internet the exact nature of each component of the paint to be certain it won't cause unwanted skin irritations. Babs is allergic to peanuts and a few other nuts, Ed and her made sure they picked a product that won't provoke complications.
They tested a bit of it on her wrist for extra precautions then, since they met no negative result, went on with this process that made Edward look like a mad scientist surrounded by various potions: experiments he performed with the hair dye to obtain the perfect colouring.
Babs had washed her hair, she wore an old jogging that usually serves when they paint, in case the red would invite itself elsewhere than on her medium brown hair.
They placed a chair facing the mirror in the bathroom, Ed wrapped a towel around the teen girl's shoulders before putting on a pair of latex gloves and aligning his tools in front of them: brush, the mixture of hair dye in a bowl, ready to be applied and the adapted plastic bag he will tuck her strands in once this is over.
Babs teased him about why not doing the same, so that they'd both be gingers. Eddie argued he is not ready to test a 'permanent body reconfiguration'. Considering he nearly passes out at the sight of tattoos or, worse according to him, piercings, modifications on the appearance are a sensitive ground for him. Moreover, if he were to dye his golden-brown strands one day, that would be to opt for a lighter shade, like a soft pumpkin orange rather than the vivid red Barbara elected for herself.
At present he stayed concentrated on his target: making the colors look the most natural possible on his sister's hair. To do so, he mixed a darker red to create contrast with the flamboyant hue applied on most streaks, from the roots to the tips of her chest-level thick hair.
Babs joked about how he should open a hair salon and spa to give ASMR head massages and provide dyeing sessions, given how professional he behaved with her. In the mirror, she caught his adorable pleased smile, typical of every time Jim or her highlight how skilled he is even in a completely new area he had no previous experience in.
After the magic of the dye proceeded and Babs rinced her hair at last, plus after they cleaned the traitorous paint that partially stained the sink with red tracks, it was about time they show the result to their father.
"Ta-da!"
Jim looked up from his newspapers... and smiled when Babs and Ed entered the living room, huge grins plastered on their faces and a super duper cute complicit expression on after they successfully accomplished their goal of the day.
"Red looks beautiful on you."
Gordon congratulated the final aspect. He hugged his kids, glad he let his fifteen years old teenage daughter dye her hair... and glad she didn't select a paint like acid green or bubblegum pink but a deep, realistic-looking red shade.
Reminiscent of her mother's natural hair color: Eileen was a blue-eyed, redheaded American with Irish origins. Babs wanted to dye her hair for a while, and indeed, the choice of this distinctive color is in honor of her mother.
Barbara Gordon looks gorgeous as a redhead.
Eddie stood in a corner, highly uncomfortable. Why did he let his sister drag him into this, coming with her to a party?! He is twenty and he never went to one before, the sole element that convinced him is the prospect to be watching over... Not that Babs would need his help with anything anyway; she is more than able to defend herself. If someone needs help it'd rather be him, he is stuck there without knowing what to do or how to mildly blend in.
He tensed when someone approached him.
"What are you doing here?"
"I... I've been invited..."
This is true: Babs asked if she could bring someone, and like practically everyone in this party, she invited a significant other, in her case her brother.
Whom sincerely regretted he joined.
"Who is that freak?" The teenager asked at random, what caught Babs' attention.
She moved from her conversation with two of her friends to take a few steps forward, stand in front of the taller dude and retort:
"That brilliant, intelligent man is my brother. Don't you dare call him a 'freak' again if you ever plan on having children," she concluded with a well-placed knee kick, making the wannabe bully groan in pain... and the teens around laugh at his petty misery.
They didn't prolong much. That evening at home, Barbara apologized for kind of forcing him to come with her. Eddie assured it's alright... and she held him close while he cried, always so amazed, even after nine years of being a Gordon, to realize his family loves and cares about him.
✨
Like a handful of school teens, Edward Gordon has an habit: he writes a diary. Not every day, not regularly, but... whenever he has something to tell, he couches it in stylish notebooks he thoroughly decorates with stickers, drawings and picture collages.
Babs teases him gently about this 'girly activity' of his. Jim never made a negative remark, quite the opposite: he gifted him some of the pretty books his son meticulously fills with thoughts, riddles, memories, narrations of his days, important science theorems or computer codes he recently learned, random facts that interest him, theories, fragments of texts that will maybe become original stories one of these days...
Barbara sneaked a peek above his shoulder while he was writing a new page of his current diary, sitting on the living room table, an half-emptied mug of hot chocolate next to him.
"To the Batman," she read aloud. "You are dark and beautiful like a raven, mysterious and attractive like a..."
Ed hastily closed his green notebook decorated with purple water lilies on its cover. He is not usually secretive, he regularly lets his sister check what he writes and asks his father the riddles he comes up with that are archived in his diaries.
Notwithstanding this... what he begun today felt private, contrary to the rest of his usual storytelling. Nearly... intimate. It is the first time he feels flustered, toes curling, heart pounding and a strange warmth tying knots in his stomach at the mere evocation of the newly-appeared vigilante in town.
"Seriously?" Babs taunted, a wide smirk on her lips. "You are writing love poems to that nocturnal weirdo dressed for Halloween?"
"I am... trying. And he... he is not a weirdo! He is... like a dark prince charming..."
Barbara bursted out laughing at his mortified expression, whereas this was by no means mocking: she loves her brother, the games between them remain friendly. She ruffled his mid-long hazelnut hair with affection.
This evening at dinner, she announced bluntly:
"I think Eddie has a crush."
The three of them were sitting around the table, Jim looked up from his plate of carbonara pasta, after he thanked the chef: Edward being talented, among other fields, at cooking, he is most often the one who takes care of the meals. The policeman isolated self-explanatory evidences, such as his son's cheeks turning red at the mischievous side-glance Barbara cast him.
"Is that so?"
Eddie gazed resolutely at his dish, apparently fascinated by a button mushroom which slid on the sauce.
Babs chuckled, Jim's smile grew wider.
"Should I get worried?" He played along, sarcastic.
"Depends... What would you think of Ed dating a tall strange gothic man who has a thing for cosplaying a ninja version of Dracula?"
Jim arched an eyebrow.
Edward felt like eggs could be cooked on his cheeks given how hot his skin felt.
"... You are crushing on that new guy the medias are gushing over, the Batman?"
"I am not 'crushing on him'!" He exclaimed, desperate. "I just... write about him in my diary, collect every video footages, photos or pieces of articles that appear about him and I started... doodling what I call a 'batsymbol' on every blank page I can find. That's... not quite like 'crushing', is it?"
Barbara's laughter and Jim's broad smile answered without them having recourse to words. Edward's already flushed cheeks reddened to the point they resembled two rotten tomatoes.
"Family?"
Jim smiled at the kid's timid inquiry. Said 'kid' must be around Edward's generation, likely two or three years older than his son, so he is technically a young adult. Be that as it may... he treats his unexpected partner more like a child he has to watch over than like the image that boy wants to give of himself: Vengeance, who plays on people's fears as he runs across town, a shadow among the natural darkness of the city.
Soon after people started to speak about him, the Batman... worked with him on cases. While they are not teaming-up since long, Jim developed a parental affection for this kid, who seems damaged and hurt yet found the strength to make a difference by... suiting up that costume.
A somewhat odd, lonesome, clearly autistic and touch-starved boy who has a hard time holding people's gaze, doesn't know how to behave in public and only relaxes slightly when alone with Gordon, who behaves with him like he does for children he has to interrogate over painful investigations: calm, patient, dedicated. Fatherly. He was not faking his attachment, he grew genuinely concerned and overall fond of the bat-boy.
Today the two of them were both in his office at the police station, reassured after they successfully arrested a murderer and made a final check on the clues they collected to determine whether or not Victor Zsasz had an accomplice. That's when the vampire-inspired knight pointed to a picture on his desk, taken over an earlier vacation with his children last year.
"My daughter Barbara, and my son Edward," Jim answered, approaching the frame starring the three of them smiling for the camera, in summer clothes. "She is eighteen, he is twenty-two and they both live with me. They are what I hold most dear."
A semblance of smile formed on the lower side of the boy's face. As he observed his eye-opening reactions, Jim wondered once again if that kid has parents, friends, or... anyone really, who protects him. Who cares for him.
If he had, he would certainly not be outside at night dressed like this, he couldn't help think right away.
"Edward is a... fan, by the way," he went on smiling all the more when the bat-boy looked at another picture, of Ed with two rats perched on each his shoulders: his beloved pets Query and Echo that Jim bought for his birthday.
Babs and him took Eddie to a pet store after he asked if he could get animals, and watched the adult who sometimes acts like a kiddo pointing excitedly to a massive cage holding rats, then picking two females, a light brown one and a white one with black spots spread across her glossy fur. Ed sported his –simply precious– childish amazed expression when he held the six weeks old adorable creatures.
They went home with the baby rats, Eddie hosts since then a large dream cage for them in his bedroom, although the rats are often taken out and regularly travel from one room to another on the Gordons' shoulders, they also curl up on their lap when watching movies or playing games.
"He follows your every appearances on TV and records the articles where you are mentioned," Gordon resumed post-answering Vengeance's question about the rats too, and smiled at his delicate commentary of 'Edward seems very cute' after Jim narrated how he got his pets. "He was head over heals when I told him we started working together."
"Oh," the boy blinked, not expecting these informations. "Didn't think I... made an impression on anyone already," he dithered with his low, smooth voice. "I, hu... just begun."
Jim's smile broadened.
"Then let's say Ed is an early fan."
💝✨💝
Jim Gordon fits, objectively speaking, among the category of people you commonly call 'good persons'. Forever ready to help everyone, this ancient military turned policeman was a loving husband, is a devoted friend and a proud father.
As it turned out, he has... a propensity to take in odd kids who could use a supportive parental figure in their lives.
He adopted his son, and although he had no proper intention to adopt the Batman too, he... more or less embodied the role of someone who makes sure, at least as much as possible, that the emo kid is fine every time they meet.
This evening, Batman fell into his trap: Gordon told him to stop by at his place to resume their current investigation on a mysterious threat, rather than going to his work office. Unaware of the insidious plan, the bat-kid concurred... and realized too late this was an ambush made to force him to take a break.
Keen observer, Jim perceived the exhaustion radiating from his unconventional partner: since they commenced their tricky case on the Red Hood gang, Batman hardly ever benefitted from a moment off. Even without knowing his personal schedule, it's not difficult to guess this boy has critically unhealthy life habits, between never sleeping, barely ever resting and surely rarely eating healthy meals.
Consequently, instead of spending another night with him at the GCPD, Jim organized a sympathetic timeout for him at their place.
"Batman!"
His dad may have planned it with Babs and him, Ed couldn't hold back an high-pitched meow when he met the vigilante... in their living room, as if he materialized out of thin air. Batman silently entered by the bay window then waited at the center of the space.
"Edward," Vengeance acknowledged him via a swift movement of the chin, moving from one foot to another, uncomfortable as whenever he talks to someone he had never seen before. "Your father... invited me over," he observed the cozy, well-designed main room. "To... work."
"Not exactly," Jim appeared from the corridor, granting his acolyte a warm smile. "I mean sure, tomorrow we will check our documents. This evening however, you will join us for dinner."
More bashful shifting from the kid dressed in black and grey.
He reminds him of Eddie the first weeks, when the boy couldn't believe he was welcomed in a family and was at the time prone to frequent autistic breakdowns.
"I cooked for four persons," Ed enunciated, perky, his green eyes sparkling and an obvious adoration painted onto his cute, round face that kept its boyish appearance. "I would be... honored if you sat with us."
Mister Vengeance apparently swam in sheer confusion (what is honestly hilarious) when he was ushered to the table with its plates and cutlery for, indeed, four. He relaxed at last when Jim, Barbara and Edward included him in an innocent, light-hearted discussion (what is honestly adorable).
At some point Jim and Babs shared a look: Ed leaned to Batman's side on the table, watching him with a cartoonish fascination. Jim wouldn't be surprised to see the lenses of his clear-framed glasses shaped into pulsating hearts while the Bat cast him a suspicious glance, cocking his masked head to the side like a curious bird who witnesses something especially unusual.
Humpf. Jim concluded he urgently needs to give his inexperienced son relationship advises, and he noticed Babs bit the inside of her cheeks to refrain giggles when Eddie melted on his chair after Batman said meekly that the grilled beef, roasted slices of potatoes cooked with garlic and parsley plus the assorted vegetables with their homemade pepper sauce are delicious.
They evoked work, joked over affairs, Edward bragged about new computer programs he created... the atmosphere felt so wholesome, Jim swears he caught a tear pearling at the corner of Vengeance's left eye then quickly disappearing, absorbed under his cowl. Perhaps the bat-kid hadn't experienced a happy family ambiance in a... long time.
He participated to the conversation, a tad awkward at first then growing progressively more at ease. He answered Barbara's clever questions about Jim and him's team-up or about his equipment and commented, humble, Edward's... clearly enamored remarks that glorified everything he does.
Babs and Ed cleared the table after they finished the main dish and switched to smaller plates that will receive slices of homebaked pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.
While they were in the kitchen, Barbara discreetly warned her brother, profundly amused:
"Careful, Ed. You're drooling."
Edward returned with his whole face tinted of an alarming shade of red, matching his sister's hair which she maintains with this coloring.
Jim was smiling widely again as he watched with fondness his two children plus his young work partner / his non-officially adopted other boy figure / his... potential future in-law? Who knows?
They even convinced the bat-kid to stay for a themed board game with them after dinner.
"This is Echo, and the one who seems far too interested in your cowl is Query. They are Eddie's girlfriends."
Thus Barbara introduced the rats when Ed took them out of their cage between two parties of their game. Like a kid with a buddy he invited to his home for the first time, Edward gaily showed his pets to Batman.
The vigilante whispered he loves rats, they are intelligent little creatures... and he extended an arm toward Ed's hands where the girls curled up. The white and black rat sniffed his gloved fingers, then... ran up the length of his arm, rapidly reaching his shoulder then climbing to his cowl.
Eddie froze, fearing that would upset his Batman... but the vigilante let out a soft, held back though existing chuckle when he raised a hand to the top of his mask and felt Query rolling blissfully between his two pointy ears, she evaluated his cowl a fitting perch.
"She is adorable," Vengeance cooed. "You... all are."
The eldest of the Gordon family never saw the bat-boy so relaxed. Barbara appeared glad with the way their evening evolved, Edward didn't try to hide how in awe he is of Batman. He should definitely invite Mister Vengeance more often.
Jim's perfect little world went through many hardships and drastic changes over the years.
He suffered tragic losses, he made edifying encounters. Such a flourishing, vibrant journey.
"I will... return to my place," Batman declared later on. "Thank you for... tonight. I... appreciated very much."
"Come back whenever you want!" Edward proposed immediately while he stored the pawns in their box, Query and Echo on either sides of him, each on a shoulder. "It will always be a pleasure to have you over..."
The vigilante declined to stay (that will be for later: either setting up the couch for him or placing their folding bed in Eddie's bedroom for it to look like his son and Vengeance had a... sort of sleepover), he promised he will take a well-deserved night of rest... but at his own place.
Jim addressed a silent good night to Eileen and James Junior after he hugged his twenty-two and eighteen years old children to wish them sweet dreams at the end of this grand evening. They may be adults now, they truly behave like kids with him.
In the end, it pays to be a good person: even if the road remains difficult, dark and sad at times, you are still rewarded with a fulfilling, gratifying and... happy way of life.