While the early morning turned into afternoon back at the apartment, Barbara was on her way to the art gallery to double-check the scheduled date for the grand opening. But just as she finished getting ready, she heard a knock at the door. Curiously, she answered it. But the person on the other side was someone she never thought she'd get to see again. It was Montoya. "Renee, long time," Barbara sighed. Montoya nodded her head, asking if she could come in. Barbara moved so she could enter and shut the door behind them.
Barbara stared at the woman's slight pacing. Montoya's eyes were focused and deep in thought about something. Barbara was about to ask her what was on her mind, but Montoya spoke before she had the opportunity. "I'm sorry to drop by unexpectedly like this. How have you been?" she questioned. "I'm good, you?" Barbara spoke bluntly. "All good, I heard you run an art gallery now. And uh... how's Holly? She's twelve now, right?" Barbara nodded, assuring Montoya that Holly was fine, adjusting to the move. "And I got engaged," Barbara adjusted the ring wrapped snugly around her finger.
Montoya looked down at the ground, shaking her head. It was almost like she had something to say about Barbara's impending happiness. And while the truth Montoya was withholding would hurt Barbara in the long run, she cared enough to tell her the truth about the man she would be marrying within the next year. "The GCPD framed Mario Pepper for the murder of the Waynes. They framed and killed an innocent man," She spoke. Barbara's eyes widened with shock; denial was quick to course through her veins. "And you're here to tell me Jim was in on this?" She asked. "Yes," Montoya nodded.
Barbara scoffed, claiming she couldn't make such an accusation without proof or probable cause. And when she asked to see the proof, Montoya said she couldn't tell her, but she was telling the truth. "James Gordon is not a good guy. You and Holly deserve better," Montoya insisted. "James Gordon is the most honest man I've ever met. He's not capable of doing that," Barbara shook her head. While Montoya hoped her former fling would take her words to heart, a part of her knew this would be difficult to convince Barbara. Who could blame her? She spent over a decade with Jim and raised a daughter with him, anyone would've reacted the same way if a dark part about their significant other was revealed.
"You sure you know what's he capable of?" Montoya queried. "Yes, thank you. I know him," Barbara nodded. "Does he know you? Have you told him about us?" Montoya stepped closer. Barbara's breath hitched in her throat as their past flashed before her eyes. When Jim entered her life, she convinced him that she and Montoya were old friends. He never suspected anything between them. Maybe because of the deep love he had for her, or maybe Barbara was just good at hiding her feelings. "Re-Renee, you need to get out," She stuttered. "Please Barb, he doesn't know you the way I do," Montoya's eyes pleaded.
"Get out!" Barbara insisted, her voice full of conviction and insistence. With a disappointed look, Montoya left, her heels clacking down the staircase could be heard from inside the apartment. Barbara's heartbeat rang in her ears as she tried to bring herself back to reality, fighting against her demons of denial. All she could was keep whispering Jim wasn't a murderer and hope this was a pathetic attempt to break up their happy lives. But the more she thought about it, the more doubt began to creep in.
Another hour went by as she stared out the windows, watching droplets of rain slide down the glass, another cloud of dreariness looming over the city. She heard the front doors unlock and open, but her gaze was focused on the world outside. Holly wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, hugging her. But Barbara was still in her own world, barely acknowledging her. Holly looked to her dad, who looked just as equally stressed out. "Why don't you go change, Hols? Your mom and I need to talk," Jim whispered. Holly nodded understandingly, going to her room as Jim approached his fiancée and sensed her distress.
"What's wrong?" He questioned. Barbara sighed, her voice wavering as the question left her lips. "Did you frame Mario Pepper?" Jim sighed as now the two people he trusted more than anything feared he and the GCPD got the wrong man. "No," Jim insisted. "I knew it," Barbara sighed with relief. "Did someone tell you Pepper was framed?" her fiancé inquired. Knowing Jim, Barbara knew that by telling him about Montoya's visit to their apartment, he would confront her. "It doesn't matter, just as long as it's not true," Barbara whispered. "It's not true. Who told you it was?"
Barbara tried to paint a smile on her face, saying nobody told her, that she just read about it in some article. But Jim refused to let the situation go so easily. "Bee, I know when you're lying. Talk to me," Jim rubbed his hand on her shoulder. Finally, Barbara peeled her eyes from the window and embraced him, admitting everything Montoya said, leaving out the details of their past romance. While Holly knew it was rude to eavesdrop, she couldn't help but poke her head out and listen to the conversation. As she watched her mother bury her head into her father's chest, Jim looked up and saw his daughter but didn't say anything, just focused on consoling Barbara.
At that moment, there was a burning fire inside Jim. A fire that was determined to figure out if Pepper was truly their man. And if he wasn't, then they'd have to figure out who tried to make him appear to be the Wayne's killer.
~~~~~~~~~
That next morning, Jim went back to Pepper's apartment. It may not have been the wisest decision to go without Bullock, given the last time he was without his partner, Jim was nearly stabbed in the back alley, but Jim wouldn't hear the end of his complaining and telling him to let the case go. "Mrs. Pepper..." Jim knocked on the apartment door. The door slightly opened, but Alice Pepper looked at him angrily. "Go away!" She hissed before attempting to slam it shut. But Jim wedged himself between the door just in the nick of time. "Ma'am, if your husband was innocent, you need to talk to me," Jim said.
Alice's rage slightly faded, and with a bit of hesitation, she let him in, still scowling. Every word was full of anger, and Alice only gave him one-word responses, mostly denying her husband was involved in the Wayne's downfall. "If your husband didn't kill the Waynes, how did he come to have Martha Wayne's necklace?" Jim squinted. "You bastards planted it on him," Alice growled. "Bastards!" Ivy spoke up, hiding in her usual spot behind the potted plants. "Alice, how would we have the necklace? We didn't kill the Waynes?" Jim asked her.
Alice shook her head and scoffed, claiming her husband had his demons, but he never killed anyone. Suddenly, a minor detail from Bruce's report reappeared in Jim's head, the shininess of the murderer's shoes. "Can I see his shoes?" Jim questioned. Alice looked confused at his odd request but led him to the closet in her and her late husband's room. Though Mario had a small number of shoes in the closet, it became clear that he never owned a pair of shiny shoes. Damn it... Jim cursed to himself before looking back to Alice. "Are you sure this is all of them?"
"Yep," Alice spoke, though she didn't directly say it, Jim could tell just by the tone in her voice she wanted him gone. With no further questions and the confirmation that Mario Pepper was indeed framed, he left the residence having no choice but to tell Bullock about this discovery.
~~~~~~~~
"Framed? You were there, we framed him?" Bullock replied when Jim confronted him about the unfortunate truth. "Somebody could've planted the necklace on Pepper for us to find. Fish Mooney could've set the whole thing up," Jim explained. "Why would you think that?" Bullock got defensive at that remark. "To cover for the real killer. Mooney works for Falcone, maybe he wanted the Wayne's killed," Bullock shook his head, telling his partner this little speculation was getting out of hand. "Why would such a nutty idea even enter your head?" Bullock demanded.
"Montoya from MCU," Jim spoke bluntly. "That pill-headed looney bird? What's her proof?" Bullock scoffed. Even after the Wayne case was closed, Major Crimes Unit still couldn't keep their noses out of other people's business. "She wouldn't tell me, didn't trust me," Jim responded. "Then she doesn't have any!" Bullock spat, returning to his desk. "If they did, they would've used it," he pointed out. "Pepper didn't wear shiny shoes. He didn't own any," Jim mentioned.
The mention of the shoes was the straw that broke the camel's back for Bullock. With the case officially closed, all he wanted to do was put the past behind him. But with an innocent's man death looming over their heads, there was no escape. "Just suppose for a moment, just suppose Pepper was innocent. I killed him, we killed him. We'd lose our jobs at the very least!" Bullock whispered, making sure none of the other cops nearby heard them. "This case is closed. Forget about it, okay?"
"Even if the real killers are still out there?" Jim furrowed a brow. "Yes! This is very perilous stuff you're messing with. Listen to me, for once, Jim. Forget about it," Bullock turned back to his desk. While Jim was nodding his head and saying he would try on the outside. But on the inside, Jim was determined not to give up. And with the growing suspicion of Mooney's involvement, Gordon went back to the Theater District to confront her.
~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, the day quickly turned to night as Barbara and Holly waited for Jim to come home. But there was no call or even a voicemail letting them know he was alright or he was working late again. Holly watched as her mother's face shifted into one of panic. They both knew his job was risky, but the thought of being hurt continuously crossed Barbara's mind. "How about we go check at the GCPD? If Dad's not there, maybe someone can tell us where he is," Holly suggested, hoping it could calm her mother's anxiety. Barbara exhaled a quiet breath before looking at her daughter, taking her up on the offer. The two of them got into the car, driving through the pouring rain to the lit GCPD building.
Holly grabbed her mom's hand and led her up the stairs to Harvey's desk, where he sat reading bits and pieces of the newspaper. "Harvey?" Holly tapped his shoulder. Bullock gasped as the paper slipped from his grasp, and he lost his place. "Son of a-" He turned around to see Holly standing next to Barbara, and his tone quickly shifted. "What is it, kid?" Harvey asked. "James went for a walk last night, and he never came back. Have you heard from him?" Barbara hoped. "We're really worried," Holly added.
"He's on a stakeout. His phone probably ran out of juice, that's all," Bullock answered. Barbara looked relieved by this, but Holly was skeptical. Her father would always text and let them know when his phone was dying and briefly tell them he was okay. But Holly convinced herself that maybe he just forgot, and this was a one-time occurrence. "Thanks, Mr. Bullock," Holly slightly smiled. "No problem, you two have a nice night," Harvey slightly smiled back. He watched as they walked out the door, hearing the sounds of Holly reassuring her mother everything was fine.
But after about a minute went by, Bullock grabbed his coat and got into the car. The drive to the Theater District felt like it went on for hours when in actuality, it was only about fifteen minutes. Bullock didn't care about the speed limit, Mooney and her people were not ones to be probed with and if Mooney was mad at you, all of her people were too. Bullock pulled up outside of an 'abandoned' warehouse having a sneaking suspicion that's where Jim was. Sneaking in through the slightly cracked open back door, he hid behind a few of the hanging pieces of meat, the sounds of voices echoing and talking to each other. "We're over here! You'd get a better angle!" Butch called to one of the henchmen who was carrying a mini camera and tripod. "What? You're a director now?" the henchmen scoffed.
"Hey, Butch!" Harvey revealed himself cheerfully. "Harvey? Who told you we'd be here?" Butch rested a hand on his hip, hiding his disappointment that their fun was interrupted. "Everybody knows this is where you take your problems," Harvey looked over to where Jim was hanging upside next to the bodies of a few dead pigs. "That's my partner you've got there," Bullock pointed. "Ex-partner," Butch corrected. Realizing this was going to be hard to free Gordon without a bit of persuasion, Bullock asked to talk to Fish.
With a glare, Butch called his boss. "Yes?" Fish answered. "Bullock showed up at the plant. He wants to talk to you," Butch told her, his cold gaze still locked on Harvey. "Put him on," Fish spoke, her voice turning serious and unfriendly. Butch handed Bullock the phone, and he took it. Fish's coldness continued as they spoke. "Don't be like that. Listen, you've got to let my boy go. How long have we been friends?" Bullock queried. "For a long time, until today," Fish hissed. "I did a big favor for you and your little pals, and now it's all about to blow up in my face on account of your stupidity!"
"Look, the kid's not your problem here. He was hipped to the frame by Major Crimes. They're gonna be coming after you," Bullock warned. That seemed to get Fish's attention. "How did they get onto me?" She asked. "Usual way, I guess. Somebody talked," Bullock reasoned. Fish began shaking her head on the other end of the phone, insisting that none of her people would talk. Not unless they knew what was good for them. "That's what everybody says," Bullock pointed out. "Listen, you got to let my boy go. You kill my partner, I got to come after you,"
Fish chuckled a bit at the threat, but she quickly stopped once Bullock told her he was being serious. "I don't want to do it, but how am I gonna look, you kill my partner, I don't make a move?" Mooney paused and thought for a moment before agreeing, saying he needed to promise to keep his partner under control. "I promise," Bullock swore. "Good, put Butch on, please," she requested. Bullock handed the phone back to Butch as he went to Jim and tried to help him get free.
But little did both the men know that after Harvey's threat, Fish wanted them hung up and dead. "Hey, how you doing?" Jim asked. "I'm good. We're going home," Bullock assured. "Well gentlemen, I'm just glad everything could work out..." But as Bullock stood up again, Butch knocked him out with a single punch, muttering his hate for cops under his breath. A few minutes after the blow to his head, Harvey woke up, hanging next to Jim. "Thanks for trying to help," Jim spoke. "Wish I hadn't," Harvey muttered under his breath before turning his attention back to Butch.
"Save your breath. If it was up to me, you'd get a bullet in the head and a decent funeral, but Fish has her ways," Butch said before turning his head to the back of the warehouse. "Yo, Frankie! Showtime!" He called out. The lights flickered on and off in the warehouse before turning bright red as a man with tattooed arms and a latex black hood covering his face approached them. He reached for one of the biggest butcher knives lying on a nearby table. Jim and Bullock attempted to reach up and free themselves from the metal bindings, but no matter how hard they tried, it was no use.
Suddenly, the large vehicle entrance lifted and revealed what appeared to be four men's silhouettes. Three of the men entered the building with guns drawn and started shooting at the henchmen, all except for Butch. An older gentleman came into view and stared at him as if trying to remember his name. "Don Falcone..." Butch lowered his head. "Forgive me, young man. I forget what your name is. Or perhaps I never knew it," Falcone squinted. "Gilzean, sir," Butch responded.
"Gilzean, Tell Ms. Mooney she's too impetuous. If she wants to kill policemen, she has to ask permission," Falcone spoke softly, briefly bending down to look at the hanging men. "There are rules. Cut them down!" Falcone ordered two of his men, who unlocked the restraints thanks to the keys Butch handed over, and Jim and Bullock were free to go. But Jim wasn't quite done yet, and neither did Falcone as he called out to Jim, asking for a word. It's good to meet you at last, James. I knew your father very well. Best D.A. this city ever had. He and I understood each other. There was respect, friendship, even," the older gentlemen spoke as they walked through the now-empty warehouse.
"Friendship?" Jim looked confused. "Trust me, that's the only reason you're alive now. Blood doesn't lie. I know that when you leave here, you'll do the right thing," Falcone added. "I will. And I'll tell what I know," Jim stated. Falcone turned around, looking at Gordon with brief curiosity. "I know that you own the police department. Probably the mayor, too. And I was pretty sure that you had the Waynes killed. But if you did, you wouldn't risk letting me live, would you? Then again, how did Fish Mooney come to have Martha Wayne's necklace? A replica?"
Falcone nodded, confirming Jim's suspicions. "But if you didn't have them killed, why frame Mario Pepper? Or are you covering up for somebody else?" Jim inquired. "Who knows who killed the Waynes? Some lowlife. We needed a culprit before the funeral. Pepper was sacrificed so that the people of Gotham would see swift justice done. So they can feel safe and secure. And that matters so much to you, doesn't it?"
Jim nodded at his words, but giving Bruce a false sense of hope that the murderer of his parents was dead still didn't settle well. "I'm a businessman. You can't have organized crime without law and order. I love this city, and I see it going to hell. But I won't let it fall apart without a fight," Falcone swore. "You make a life of crime sound very noble," Jim scoffed at his justification. "You have a hard head, James, just like your father. Don't be self-righteous. Don't be arrogant," Falcone warned. "You expect me to stay quiet about this?"
"Gotham is on a knife edge. What do you suppose bringing down City Hall and the police force will do, even if you could? Would it make things better?" That question made Jim pause for a moment, but before he could respond to the crime bosses' question, Falcone patted his shoulder, speaking in brief Italian and wishing him luck. "In bocca Al Lupo," with that parting, Falcone disappeared back into the shadows.
~~~~~~~~
"Glad I got to you when I still had the chance," Bullock said as he and Jim got into the car and drove out of the narrow parking lot of the warehouse. "How did you even know I was here?" Jim looked back at the building from the corner of his eye. "Your daughter was worried about you. So was Barbara," Bullock answered. Shit... how could I forget about them? They must think I'm dead by now! Bullock could see the worry in Jim's eyes, and he understood. If Bullock had a family, he wouldn't want them to worry either. "Look, being a cop isn't for the weak or the reckless. You've got to be more careful. Not only for your sake but for theirs," Bullock lightly scolded.
"I just don't want anything to happen to them," Jim sighed, resting his head against the passenger window. The remainder of that ride was silent as Bullock pulled the car onto a quiet shipyard around sunrise. As the morning clouds blocked the sun's view, they stared into the ocean for a second, before Bullock started talking again. "I wasn't being honest with you. But you weren't ready for the truth," "You didn't tell me because you were ashamed," Jim replied. They both exited the car, and Bullock led him to the trunk. Jim asked why they were stopping there. But instead of replying to his partner's question, Bullock lifted the trunk to reveal a frightened and bloodied man. Jim recalled him as the same guy holding the umbrella in the alley outside Fish's club.
"No, please. Please, I beg of you!" Oswald pleaded. "Shut up!" Bullock growled, making the young man go silent. "This is the fool that snitched to Montoya and Allen. Falcone wants you to walk him to the end of that pier and put a bullet in his head. Then everybody knows you're with the program," Bullock instructed. Oswald cowered with fear, and his body was shaking like a tree branch in the middle of a hurricane.
"And what if I don't?" Jim retorted. Bullock sighed before revealing he'd then have to take Jim out and then Oswald. "Here's the thing, Jim. I like you. I might not have the stomach to do it, but I'll try. Cause if I don't, someone will get to you quick enough. Then they're gonna get to me and probably Barbara and Holly as well. Who knows what you told them,"
"I told them nothing!" Jim insisted. "You think Falcone cares? Come on. You've killed people before!" Bullock noted. "That's different. That was war," Jim shook his head. "This is war! We're at war with scumbags like him! Sometimes in war, you got to do a bad thing to do good, right? So do you do this bad thing, or do you die, and maybe your girls die?" The thought of Barbara and Holly losing their lives over a decision he couldn't make threatened to shatter his heart. He couldn't protect his family if he was dead.
With no other choice, Jim pulled Oswald out of the vehicle, took the red cloth-wrapped gun from Bullock, and walked Oswald to the end of the pier. "Please, Mr. Gordon, just let me live! I'll do whatever you say. I-I'll be your slave for life!" Oswald begged. "There is a war coming. A terrible war. Falcone is losing his grip, and his rivals are hungry. There-there will be chaos. Rivers of blood in the streets. I know it! I-I can see it coming!" But Jim wasn't listening to Oswald's attempts to save his life. Oswald stumbled over his feet as he walked backward, closer to the edge. His time was running out. "I can help you. I-I can be a spy!" Oswald offered.
Jim grabbed Oswald by the back of his neck, leaning his body closer to the awaiting cold waters. "For God's sake, have mercy!" Oswald sobbed as his life flashed before his eyes. Jim pulled out the gun, aiming it at Oswald's head. "Don't ever come back to Gotham," he whispered before slightly moving the handgun and firing, the bullet narrowly missing Oswald's head. He fell into the water, and to Bullock, who was watching all this from the car, it seemed like Jim confirmed he was with the program. His fiancée and daughter's safety were secured for now.
~~~~~~~~
Holly sat in the living room watching the early morning shows. Her spoon dug into the glass bowl containing her Cheerios. Just looking at the screen and watching the reruns of episodes made her think back to the suburbs. She fondly remembered the days when her father returned home. Her mother would make them a big breakfast on Saturday mornings, and they'd all sit on the couch together. One show in particular, always made Holly and her father laugh to the point where they thought milk would come out of their noses. It became part of their weekend routine soon after.
Just as she finished her bowl, a knock came from the door, and without a second thought, she ran to open it, happy to see her father had returned. "Dad!" Holly tightly embraced him, and Jim returned the hug. Barbara, having heard the knock from the bedroom, stepped into the hall and embraced him as well. "I missed you both too. I'm sorry I scared you," Jim apologized. Barbara went to grab a clean towel from the bathroom, dampening it before handing it to her fiancé. "What happened to you?" Barbara questioned. Jim hesitated, questioning himself as he thought of telling them the past 24 hours.
He couldn't bring himself to talk about the ultimatum Bullock had given him if he didn't dispose of Oswald Cobblepot, or his talk with Carmine Falcone. But as they held each other on the couch, Jim looked at his two girls and confirmed without a doubt the Wayne murders had not been so easily solved. "Mario Pepper wasn't the Wayne's killer. He was set up," Jim admitted. "What? By who?" Barbara questioned. "We don't know yet. But we're looking into it," he lied. "So, the real killer is still out there?" Holly inquired. "Mhmm. I'll have to go to Wayne Manor tomorrow and tell Bruce the truth,"
Deep down, Holly knew this wasn't going to be easy for Bruce. While he did have at least one close person to help him through the difficult time, Holly and her father were technically a part of his life too. "Hols, you can come with me tomorrow if you want," Jim offered. "Yeah, of course. I'll be there," Holly nodded.
When the next morning arrived, the father-daughter duo made the long hour drive into the countryside where Wayne Manor stood tall and proud surrounded by trees, most of them had shed their leaves, and small piles of snow sat at the side of the road leading to the manor. The building itself was unlike anything Holly had ever seen. Bricks upon bricks piling up, at least a dozen chimneys that lead down into multiple fireplaces within the home. And not only that, but a white fountain that was turned off for the winter sat in the center of the driveway. If compared to the expensive homes back in the suburbs, Wayne Manor could easily make them look like a bundle of wood and stone slapped together. As they got out of the car, Holly caught a glimpse of someone's shadow that wasn't her own or her father's. As she looked up, she was shocked to find Bruce standing on the stone balcony, looking down at the ground below.
"Hey!" She called out, breaking Bruce out of his focused trance. While Holly was distracted, making sure he wasn't about to do anything too drastic, Jim saw Alfred step outside, noticing their arrival. Without saying a word, Jim pointed to the roof, and Alfred looked up with wide eyes. "Oi! Master Bruce, get your bloody arse down from there! How many times have I told you?!" Alfred shouted.
How many times has he done this? Holly thought to herself as Bruce slowly climbed back to safety. Alfred then led them into the living room, where a warm fire burned in the fireplace, welcoming them with a wave of heat. Holly took off her coat and set it on the arm of one of the leather sofas in the middle of the room. "I'll take that for you, Miss," Alfred held out his hand, and Holly gave him her coat, silently thanking him with a smile. Bruce entered the room shortly after, sitting in the chair right across from them.
"Why were you up on the roof?" Jim questioned, breaking the silence in the room. "I... I'm learning to conquer fear," Bruce admitted. "But isn't fear a good thing? It tells you where the edge is," Holly attempted to reason. "And you think I haven't told him that, do you?" Alfred said as he stood next to the fireplace. "You both came here for a reason, I'd imagine," Bruce quickly changed the subject. Jim nodded, and after taking in a quiet breath, he explained everything. "Mario Pepper didn't kill your parents. He was framed by the police department and the mob working together. We killed an innocent man,"
Bruce's face fell as he looked down at the ground, Holly could tell just by his composure this was probably not the type of visit Bruce was expecting. "So, who did it then?" Alfred asked. "We don't know," Jim answered. "Sterling work there then, mate, isn't it?" the butler muttered under his breath. Holly watched as her dad pulled his badge out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the table in front of Bruce. "I'm sorry," Jim apologized. "Don't be," Bruce spoke after staring at the badge. "I'm glad he's still alive. I want to see him again,"
"I'm asking you to give me a second chance. I'm going to find out who killed your parents and why, and I'm gonna clean up the damn police department if I can. But I can only do that from the inside. So I'm asking you to stay silent about what I've told you," Jim looked directly at the boy. "Right, well that's all convenient, isn-" "Alfred!" Bruce warned, looking sharply before taking the badge into his hand. Bruce looked at Jim and with a slight nod, handed him the badge back.
"Thank you," Jim spoke softly just as Bruce left the room.