C҉R҉O҉W҉ | ᴍᴄᴜ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

V I I I - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

TEN YEARS AGO

THE SUITCASE CLICKED SHUT as Barbara Jean Gordon's hands lingered on the latches, fingers trembling even though she tried to forcefully keep them stable. Behind her, the bedroom looked half-empty already.

Drawers yanked open. Closet half-cleared. Clothes stuffed into bags sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Honey, please, don't do this." Gordon's pleaded, there was a crack in it he couldn't hide. He stood in the doorway still wearing his tie, his badge clipped to his belt.

He hadn't even taken his holster off.

"I have to." Barbara said. She didn't turn. She smoothed the top of the suitcase, then zipped it again as though it might come undone if she let go, "The kids are waiting in the car."

"They're kids. They don't understand. They'll hate me for this—"

"They don't hate you." She turned then, "But they're scared. They hear sirens every night. They ask me why you're not home for dinner. They ask me if the bad men are ever going to come for us. And you're never there to answer."

Gordon's jaw flexed, "I'm doing this for them. For all of us. Gotham needs—"

"GOTHAM DOESN'T NEED YOU!" Barbara snapped. The words seemed to shock even her. She shut her eyes, breathing hard, "W-We need you. Your family needs you."

Gordon stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"I can't walk away. You know what this city is, Barbara. If I don't stand, if men like me don't stand, then all that's left is men like them." He gestured vaguely, "Corrupt cops. Mobsters in the precinct's pocket. Psychos on the street. You want me to leave that? You want me to turn my back?"

"I want you alive!" Barbara said, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I want you home. I want our kids to grow up somewhere they don't flinch when a window breaks in the night. I want to stop lying to them every time they ask when Daddy's coming back."

Her voice broke again, "And I want to stop lying to myself every time I pretend I'm not afraid you'll die out there and leave us with nothing."

Gordon's throat tightened.

"I-I can't leave, Barb. If we all left, if every good man walked away, Gotham would rot faster than it already has. And then what? Where do we run when there's nothing left to run from?"

She stared at him for a long time.

"You talk like Gotham's your wife, Jim. More than me. Like the badge is your child. More than your children. But it's not. We are. And you chose it over us. A long time ago at that."

Her hand brushed the suitcase again, "Now I'm choosing us."

Gordon stepped closer, "Please. Stay. Just give me more time. It's getting better. It has to."

Barbara laughed through her tears. Bitter.

"Better? James, this city eats men like you alive. Every year it takes more of you away from us! You think it's noble, but it's punishment. You think you're saving Gotham, but Gotham's killing you! And I won't let it kill the kids too!"

She grabbed the suitcase, pulling it off the bed. Gordon reached for her wrist. She froze, staring at his hand gripping hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then slowly, he let go.

Barbara's eyes softened, just for a moment.

"You could come with us. There's still time." She took a deep breath, a shaky one at that, trying to meet Jim's eyes, "Leave it behind. Start over. Be their father. . .not their Commissioner."