Work Text:
Jim Gordon has seen a lot of insane things during his time as Commissioner, but Robin takes the cake. The first time Batman had lifted his cloak to reveal a little boy in a leotard bright enough to rival a traffic light, he had been able to do nothing but stare in abject horror. The boy was tiny, cheeks still round with baby fat, and Jim had thrown caution to the wind as he had grabbed Batman’s elbow and yanked him to the side.
“Have you lost your goddamned mind?” Jim had snapped. “That kid can’t be any older than, what, ten? I’ve let a lot of shit slide, but this? I have to draw the line somewhere, Batman.”
Batman had just sighed. “I tried telling him no. He…there was no stopping him. At least this way, I can keep him safe.”
“He’s a child.”
“You think I don’t know that?” For the first time since the man had appeared on the streets, Jim heard fear in Batman’s voice. “You think I haven’t tried talking him out of it? This is the only way I can keep him safe.”
And so Batman becomes Batman and Robin. The Commissioner briefs every last one of his men, tells them they are to look out for the kid, to watch his back when Batman cannot, to keep the worst that Gotham has to offer as far away from the boy as they can.
Jim can’t deny that the boy is talented. He cuts through the air with ease, fells men twice his size as giggles tumble from lips stretched wide in a grin, brings a light to the streets of Gotham that has even Batman smiling. Kids across the city all point up and stare as Robin’s yellow cape billows out behind him when he swings above the streets.
But no matter how talented he is, no matter how vigilant both Jim and Batman are, they cannot keep him unharmed forever. The first time Jim sees the kid go down, bile rises hot and sour in his throat. It hadn’t been a heavy hit, something Batman would have barely blinked at, but the kid goes flying as brass knuckles connect with his jaw. His body hits the wall hard, and Jim hears him cry out in pain before he goes still.
Batman had roared in anger, dropping men like flies, but Jim had dropped to his knees, covering Robin until the threat had passed.
“You with me, kid?”
“Holy brass knuckles, Commish,” the kid whines through swollen lips. “I think my face is broken.”
Despite the blood staining his teeth and the unnatural angle his ankle was twisted in, he had grinned up at Jim and asked him to hold down the fort until Batman let him out on patrol again.
Jim has seen the kid take many a hit after that, but little seems to phase him. He stays smiling even as Batman pops his shoulder back into place, wipes down a knife wound, checks him for a concussion after Killer Croc had thrown him down a fire escape. There’s no way to tell if he keeps up the act once Batman carries him away from danger, but Jim can’t help but wonder when the boy will finally break.
It’s raining slightly as Jim lights a cigarette next to the Bat signal. The night is young, but vicious rumors of the Joker once again stirring up trouble have reached his ears, and he needs Batman here immediately. The rumors are free from any real detail, but they don’t call Batman the World’s Greatest Detective for nothing. Jim can only hope the man can put an end to this nonsense before anyone gets hurt.
“Evening, Commish!” Robin drops from the sky in front of Jim and opens his mouth wide enough that Jim could have counted every one of his molars. “I lost a tooth today. See?”
Batman just pinches the bridge of his nose. “Robin, we can talk about your tooth later. The Commissioner called us here for something more important, alright?”
“You’re such a party pooper, B.”
“This isn’t a party.” Jim can’t see underneath Batman’s cowl, but as a father, he knows the man is rolling his eyes. “What have you got for us, Jim?”
“Nothing more than a rumor, I’m afraid.” Jim puffs hard on his cigarette, making sure to blow smoke away from Robin. “There’s whispers the Joker’s making moves. Couldn’t tell you what kind of moves, but it’s making people uneasy.”
“We’ll look into it.” Batman runs a hand through Robin’s hair. “Come on, chum.”
Robin holds out a hand, and Jim laughs as he begins to root around in his pockets for the lollipop he’s tucked away for the kid. His fingers close around the sweet, and he has almost freed it from his trousers when Batman drops.
The gunshot makes Jim’s ears ring, and he throws Robin to the ground, whirling around in an attempt to find the shooter. He sees the glint of a rifle from a neighboring roof, and then a shadow darts out of sight.
Robin kneels next to Batman, tiny hands pressed against the wound. He’s deathly pale, and Jim’s stomach flips as he takes in just how much blood is seeping through the kid’s fingers.
“Shit,” Jim curses as he drops to his knees. He puts his hands over Robin’s, mind racing as he tries to make a plan.
“B!” Robin is hyperventilating; his body shakes with each aching sob that tears free from his chest. “What do I do? Oh my God, what do I do?”
The bullet had lodged itself just above Batman’s collarbone. Any closer and it would have severed the crucial artery in his neck, but Jim knows the man will bleed out anyway before he can get a medic up here.
“Kal.” Batman’s voice is no higher than a whisper. Jim almost doesn’t hear him over the kid’s wailing cries. “Kal-El. Help.”
There’s a great rush of wind, and then Superman is hovering above them. He swears viciously, eyes burning red, and his cape settles against the filthy rooftop when he drops to one knee.
“Kal,” Robin cries at the sight of him, tears leaking from his mask as the edges start to lift.
“Where do I take him?” Superman holds Robin’s face in one hand. “Robin, sweetheart, where do I take him?”
“Leslie,” the kid gasps. “You gotta take us to Leslie’s.”
Jim can do nothing but stare. He’s not an idiot; he knows Batman and Superman have worked together, but he’d had no idea they were this close, close enough that Batman allows himself to be lifted into the alien’s arms without resistance. Robin stands, hand fisted in Batman’s cape, but Superman shakes his head.
“I can’t carry the both of you without hurting him.” He stoops to press a kiss to the boy’s hair. “I’ll be right back.” He turns his gaze to Jim. “Take care of him.”
And then they’re gone.
Robin stares at the pool of blood on the roof before he curls in on himself and screams. He presses his forehead against the bloodstain and wails.
In all his years, Jim has never heard anyone make a sound like that.
Jim is not Batman. He doesn’t know this child, not really, but the trust in Superman’s words makes him reach down and pull the kid into his lap. He wraps his coat around Robin’s shoulders, shielding him from the rain, and wraps his arms around the boy’s trembling frame.
“Superman’s got him,” Jim says shakily. “He’ll be okay.”
Robin screams again, a desperate, pained noise that makes tears sting at the corner of Jim’s eyes. “He’s gonna die.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But, I do.” There’s blood covering every inch of the boy’s hands, and it smears across the white fabric of Jim’s dress shirt. “He’s going to die and I’m going to–hic–have no one! I’m going to be alone, again.”
Jim knows Leslie Thompkins, knows that Batman’s chances of survival are high in her care, but he will not lie to this boy. “You won’t be alone, Robin. I can’t promise you he’ll be alright, but I can promise you that no one’s going to leave you alone.”
“I want B,” the kid whimpers.
“I know, Robin, I know you do.” Jim rests his chin on the boy’s damp curls and closes his eyes. “Superman said he’ll be back for you. He’ll be right back.”
Please, God, let him be right back.
The rain picks up, soaking them both right down to the bone, and Jim stares as the pool of Batman’s blood is washed away by the rain. In a few minutes, it’s completely gone, as though Gotham’s fiercest protector had never fallen in the first place. If it weren’t for Robin still whimpering under his coat, Jim could pretend that Batman hadn’t even arrived yet, that he might not have led the man straight to his death for nothing more than a rumor, that he might not have left this child without a father.
Batman and Robin’s relationship couldn’t be anything other than that of father and son. Jim’s seen both of them deny it, and while he might not be as good of a detective as Batman, he’s no rookie fresh out of the academy. He’s police commissioner for a reason, and he’s a father to boot; he’d have to be blind to miss it.
“Your dad’s a strong man, Robin,” Jim says as the boy’s tears start to slow. “If anyone can pull through, it’s him.”
“He’s not my dad.”
“Sure he’s not, kiddo. My mistake.”
He opens his mouth to say more, but there’s another rush of wind as Superman slides to a stop in front of them. There’s blood smudges across his jaw and smeared across his torso, and Jim wonders how such a creature could manage to look so human. There is nothing alien about the fear in his eyes or the tender way in which he pulls Robin from Jim’s grasp.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Superman says as he holds the boy close. “Come on, we can go wait for him to wake up together.”
“He’s asleep?” Robin’s voice climbs about three octaves. “You shouldn’t have let him fall asleep!”
“Leslie put him under so she could work.” As he speaks, Superman uses the edge of his cloak to wipe Robin’s hands. It doesn’t do much, just spreads the mess, but the gesture is so gentle that it makes Jim’s mouth go dry. “He’s going to be alright.”
“Tell him…tell him he’s still got a job to do.” Jim gets to his feet, shivering from the cold. “Gotham needs him. She’s not done with him yet. You tell him that for me, Robin, okay?”
“‘Kay,” Robin whispers as Superman’s feet leave the ground. “See ya, Commish.”
“See ya, kiddo.”
~~~
A week passes before one of the receptionists comes running into Jim’s office, heels clacking lousy against the floor.
“Commissioner Gordon, you’re not going to believe this.” She pushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair out of her face as she pants in front of his desk. “Superman is here. The little Robin’s with him. They’ve asked to see you.”
In the dark Gotham night, Robin looks larger than life. He’s a shining beacon, a miracle in pixie boots, but he looks absolutely tiny standing in the middle of the GCPD bullpen, his hand linked with Superman’s. They’re both in costume, and they look ridiculously out of place in the midday rush of the precinct.
“Hello, Commissioner.” Superman’s smile is kind as he inclines his head in Jim’s direction. “Robin wanted to bring you something.”
The boy is unusually shy as he shuffles forward. He’s holding a card and a small package wrapped in a Batman-themed ribbon, and he holds both of them out as his cheeks flush red.
“Batman wrote the card,” he says quietly. “But I picked out the present. Go ‘head, open it.”
It’s a tie, well-made from a fabric more expensive than anything Jim owns, and there are little robins dotted across the deep green background. Jim can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.
“I got blood all over your other one.” Robin shrugs. “And this one has robins on it. B thought it was funny.”
“Thank you, Robin.”
“No, I’m thanking you.” He steps forward and snakes his arms around Jim’s waist, pressing his forehead against Jim’s stomach. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Anytime, Robin.” He ruffles the kid’s hair. “And how is Batman?”
“Mad he’s on bed-rest.” Robin’s signature grin makes an appearance, and he looks up at Superman with a giggle. “Kal won’t let him out on patrol.”
“Smart man,” Jim agrees with a nod. “You tell him to take it easy, all right? We’ll take care of it.”
“Of course we will!” Robin puffs out his chest and puts his hands on his hips. “You don’t have to worry, Commish, Robin’s on the case.”
That is absolutely not what I meant.
He can tell that Superman is thinking the same thing as he rolls his eyes and tosses Robin up onto his shoulders. “Come on, Robin, let’s get you back before Batman realizes we’re not at the zoo.”
Robin waves from his perch on Superman’s shoulders, and Jim waves back. He’ll read the card in his office, but he switches out his tie for Robin’s right there and then.
Jim Gordon isn’t a superhero. He’s not a trained martial artist or a meta or a crazed little kid with a heart too big for his own good, but he isn’t helpless. He offers support in any way he can, and if Batman needs an extra set of eyes watching over his kid, then Jim is more than happy to help, one father to another.