Pairing/Characters: Jim Gordon, Superman; N/A
Fandom: Batman (Nolan movies)
Word Count: 933
Spoilers: Not really
Summary: Commissioner Gordon is in Metropolis for a conference
Notes/Warnings: I don't remember where I got the idea for this ficlet. Just knew I wanted to write Jim Gordon meeting Superman. No beta.
Metropolis was too shiny, too clean. At least, that's what James Gordon thought as he watched the sun set over the sprawling city. He supposed he was too used to Gotham, with its ever-present layer of filth and grime that never quite seemed to go away. He should be downstairs, talking with fellow police commissioners about the problems of running a department, complaining about budget cuts and not enough police officers to go around, but he felt as out of place among them as he did when he attended one of Bruce Wayne's parties. None of them had had a madman like the Joker virtually hold their city hostage. None of them receive death threats on a daily basis.
Deciding he needed air, he left the hotel and just started walking. Even the air is too clean. His mustache twitched in a wry smile at that. Face it, Jim, you miss Gotham. He hoped his people were doing all right back home. He'd rather be back there, doing his job, than at this conference, learning about gadgets and technology that he'd never have the funding to get until it was old news anyway. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders against the cooling night air and continued on.
"Help! Somebody help me, please!" Jim responded to the cry for help before his consciousness even registered what it was.
"Shut your mouth, bitch!" He heard the snarl as he approached the alley where the shout had come from, followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.
Thinking only of the fact that an innocent woman was being hurt, Gordon dashed into the alley, reaching for the gun he'd left in Gotham. Shit! Hiding his panic, he growled, "What's going on here?"
"None of your business, Grandpa," the man dressed all in black growled back, flourishing a gun in his hand. "Just turn around and go back the way you came and you'll live."
He shook his head, eyes narrowing behind the lenses of his glasses. Grandpa? Do I look that old? "I'm not going anywhere until you let her go."
"Who's going to stop me? You?" Pivoting, the man pointed the gun at Jim with a sneer. "One shot and you're dead. You really want that?"
Run, woman. He willed the woman to get up and run, but she stayed where she was, cowering against the alley wall. "I'd really rather you didn't kill me, son."
"I'm not your son." The would-be attacker spat the words at him. "I'm no one's son!" The woman whimpered and he swung back towards her. "Stay where you are, bitch! I'm not done with you!" Gordon tried to ease closer while the younger man was distracted, but he kicked a can and drew his attention back to him. "Don't come any closer!"
He held up his hands, desperately wishing he had his own gun with him. "All right. I'm not moving. Just calm down. You don't really want to kill me, do you?"
"No, but I will if I have to." The man's hands shook even as he tried to steady the gun.
Jim hid a wince of dismay. He's never done this before. Great. More likely to shoot, but less likely to hit anything vital. "Are you so sure about that? Right now, you'd only get time for aggravated assault. If you shoot me, you'd get time for murder, or at least attempted murder."
"Stop talking!" Screaming the words, the man squeezed the trigger.
Gordon flinched instinctively, expecting the familiar fiery pain of a bullet wound in his shoulder or chest or even leg. Instead, he felt a breeze and stared in awe at the blue- and red-clad figure that had interposed itself between him and the gunman, taking the bullet meant for him. He knew this was Superman, Metropolis' own hero. He'd seen the footage of the man in action, but it hadn't prepared him for how it'd feel to actually watch him truss up the would-be mugger. He turned to the woman once he finished. "Are you all right, Miss?"
"I am now." She smiled tearfully and adoringly up at the superhero. "Thanks, Superman."
Looking a little embarrassed, Superman turned to Gordon. "What about you, Sir? Are you hurt at all?"
"No, but it wouldn't have been the first time," he admitted, a little taken aback by the hero's solicitousness. Batman would have already left by now.
Blue eyes peered at him carefully. "You look familiar."
"Don't know why," he replied, surprised by the scrutiny. He was used to it from Batman, but not from anyone else. "I'm from Gotham."
A smile suddenly curved the hero's lips. "Ah! Commissioner Gordon. Batman's talked about you quite a bit."
"I find that hard to imagine," he admitted with a rueful smile twitching his mustache even as he ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the thought of the vigilante talking about him. "Batman isn't the talkative sort."
Superman laughed at that, a full-throated laugh that invited Jim to join in, which he did. "You're right, but what he has said about you has been highly complimentary, for Batman, anyway."
"I'll take your word for it." He offered his hand to the alien. "Thank you, Superman."
Still smiling, he shook the proffered hand. Jim could feel the leashed strength in the grip. "You're welcome, Commissioner. Give my regards to Batman when you return to Gotham."
"I will." Smiling back, he watched the hero fly up and away just as the Metropolis police arrived on the scene. He was nice, but I prefer Batman.