Chapter Text
“He tawhkin yet?”
Gordon turned his attention away from the glass and towards detective Bullock. The heavy set officer peered inside the small window Gordon had been looking into, a sigh leaving his lips. The window revealed a child, a small boy with black hair was sitting at the interrogation table. His eyes were glued to it’s cold hard surface.
“Not a peep. He’s been staring at that table for the last hour, won’t talk to anybody or even look at us.” Gordon said, looking back at the silent child.
“Think the brat unnerstands English?”
Gordon’s attention was snatched away again as he narrowed his eyes at Bullock.
“Jesus, Bullock. Of course he understands English.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Bullock put his hands up in a defensive manner. “Hey, I’ve ain’t nevah heard de kid tawhk befawhe. Listen, all I know is dat he was livin’ wit de Al Ghul’s, honest.”
“He’s been living with the Wayne’s for almost a year now, I would hope he’d pick up some English.”
“Well when yuh put it dat way..” The man said, slightly embarrassed as he pulled on his necktie.
“Please just.. don’t say anything like that when we get in there, alright? Kids already gone through so much.” Gordon looked in the window again. “I just wonder what could’ve happened to make Grayson go crazy like that. I knew they had their issues but…”
“Well I’m not surprised, dat Bruce Wayne was always sleazy.” Bullock scoffed, crossing his arms. “Remembuh de last call we got from de manor?”
How could Gordon forget? Even though it was five years ago, it still rang clear in his mind.
A frantic call came in about a domestic dispute. The youngest son at the time, Tim Drake, had called in a frazzled state, practically begging GCPD to hurry to the manor as the sound of plates flying over his head and a huge commotion was brewing in the back. But when officers arrived, the butler, Alfred Pennyworth, had answered the door.
“Oh my!” He said, opening the door a with a slight startle. “Detective Gordon, I’m dreadfully sorry if we’ve disturbed you tonight.”
“It’s no problem at all, Pennyworth.” Gordon said. “I was called about a dispute coming from this home, and from the call, it sounded pretty intense.”
“Oh that?” Alfred said, his expression turning solemn for a moment. “Merely a disagreement that may have gotten out of hand, it has all been settled though. No need for your boys in blue to get involved.”
Gordon raised an eyebrow at that. He looked past Alfred, seeing Tim sitting on the stairs of the entryway. The young teenager watched, biting his lip anxiously as he looked on with puffy, red eyes.
“Well, can my officers still take a look inside? Just to check if Tim is alright?”
Alfred’s eyes widened once again, his expression complicated. Almost like he was juggling whether or not he should let the officers in or not. Or maybe he didn’t trust them, Gordon never really knew what went on in that Butler’s head. After a moment, he’d let out a sigh and stepped aside.
As soon as Gordon entered the dining room, his jaw almost hit the floor. All around the dining room, plates were smashed, holes punched into the walls and the dining table had even been flipped. Whoever did that must’ve been one beast of a man considering how vast in size the table was.
That night had stuck with Gordon for many reasons but only three had stayed in his mind for all these years. The holes in the walls were most apparent, at first he’d thought someone had just punched a hole in them but upon closer inspection, Gordon found tiny specks of blood and bigger cracks where the holes had been made, almost as if someone had been smashed into them with brutal force.
The second thing that stuck out was the man who answered the door, Alfred. Even though Tim sounded scared for his life over the phone, Alfred was completely calm. Almost as if nothing had happened. He hadn’t told officers anything other than “I was cleaning dishes and suddenly a fight broke out”. When pressed further, his calm facade would crack for a moment, a worried quirk in his brow as his lip pressed into a thin line, before he’d try and change the topic to something else.
And Tim was no better. Even though the boy had called them, hysterical and pleading for officers, he was the same as Alfred. Giving vague answers or simply going quiet if pressed further.
Finally, the last thing that stuck out to him was what Alfred said before the officers left. Even though the crime scene was a mess, there wasn’t much evidence to collect. It was as if someone was in a rush to clean up the scene before they arrived. With a frustrated sigh, Gordon walked to the door to join the rest of the officers and head back to the precinct but was stopped when he heard “Pardon me, detective”.
Turning around, he saw Alfred helping Tim up the stairs, the boy whimpering and trying to dry his face. Alfred had whispered something to him and the boy replied with a nod then headed up the stairs. Alfred quickly approached the detective, reaching into his suit’s jacket and pulled out a stack of fresh and crisp hundred dollar bills. Before Gordon could ask what it was for, Alfred leaned in.
“Master Dick does not wish to press charges.” He said. “But he has requested that I hand these to you.”
When he mentioned Master Dick, his eyes quickly focused to the right before snapping back to Gordon. He’d leave the man with a proper bow before heading up the grand staircase.
His eyes followed the butler as he crept up the stairs until he disappeared down one of the corridors. Once the butler was out of sight, Gordon’s attention then followed where the butler had looked before. And when he did, he almost jumped out of his skin.
In a dimly lit part of another room, he’d see an older teenager staring at him. No wait, the teen wasn’t staring at him, he was glaring at the man, glaring at him with a venomous hatred, as if Gordon was his arch nemesis or something. How Gordon didn’t see him earlier was a mystery, the Gotham PD had tried searching the room for hours but somehow he’d managed to hide in that dark little corner this whole time, simply watching.
“Um.. excuse me son, but can I—“
Gordon asked, trying to step closer but when he did, the young man simply scooted further into the dark corner, hugging his knees even tighter as his glare intensified. Backing away, Gordon would let out an exhausted sigh. In Gotham, kids like him were a dime a dozen; abused and mistreated by their guardians but avoided or were downright hostile to the authorities. But those eyes, that glare, it stayed with him.
When Gordon finally left, all he could think of was that young man. He’d known the boy, in fact the whole city did. His name was Dick Grayson, the boy wonder, or Robin as everyone in Gotham knew him. He’d been a world class acrobat with his parents at Haly’s Circus before he was the costar and sidekick to Bruce in the tv action-drama, Batman. The boy was a ball of sunshine, always smiling with that carefree, childlike wonder as he dazzled audiences with his charm and athletic skill but that night, he wasn’t the boy wonder. Gordon didn’t even know if that was even Dick Grayson. The hatred and rage in his eyes made him look like an entirely different person. Someone who was frustrated. Someone with years of pent up aggression. Someone who’d kill.
But that last thought was something Gordon had shoved to the back of his mind. Dick Grayson, the boy wonder, could never kill anyone, right? He wouldn’t have any reason to, right? He wasn’t dangerous or violent, right? Right?
Rubbing his chin, Gordon had looked at the bills Alfred gave him. He’d been eyeing it since he’d gotten in the car, every time he glanced at it, a pit would form in his stomach. Why would he want to drop charges when an arrest hadn't even been made yet? Why slip him a bribe? Why give him money but treat him like a hostile enemy? Why, why why was all that went through Gordon’s head?
Thinking back now, Gordon now knew why. He could think of the motive behind this crime, why Robin would turn from boy wonder to cold blooded killer. He just couldn’t wrap his head around why Bruce would do such a thing to his children. The children he’d taken in. Children he’d cherished. Children he’d treated like his own flesh and blood.
“Hey, Gordon!” Bullock barked, snapping his fingers in front of his face.
“Y-yes?” Gordon blinked, shoulders tense.
“It’s time. Yuh ready tuh go in?”
Gordon took a deep breath and adjusted his coat then gave Bullock a nod. But as Bullock opened the door, Gordon placed his hand on his shoulder.
“And please, for the love of Christ, be gentle with the kid. He’s.. he’s been through a lot.”
“Got it. I’ll be on my best behaviawh. Ready?” He asked, nodding his head towards the door.
“Yep, let’s get this over with.”