A/N: Alright, I've been sitting on this over a week now and that is simply unnecessary cruelty. So, I tore myself away from Dickens and Bleak House in order to share this nauseatingly shmoopy piece of fanfiction that refused to accept a title until mere moments ago, when I realized it was destined for a part two and so the titles should be paired. Without further ado, I offer my humble and sincere gratitude to the multitude of lovely reviewers of my Batman drabbles whom inspired me to write and post this - and its sequel TBA. You all have made this my favorite fandom to write for.

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Absent Light

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Bruce crouched on the roof of the two-story house in the absent light of the moon. It was around three a.m. and the winding suburban street he found himself holding vigil over was quiet as any grave. Abruptly, the silence was shattered by a shout, the black pierced by a single light from a kitchen window. Bruce didn't so much as twitch in his regard of the disturbed house and its occupants.

Through the glass, he could see into the lit room, watch as a half-whispered argument escalated until a short woman stormed from the room with a last scathing shot at her companion. The man, her husband and the father of her two children, slid down the wall he had leaned against, shutting his eyes in despair and slumping under the weight of a tangible exhaustion. Being the Chief of Police for all of Gotham was stressful at the best of times, which these most certainly were not.

Bruce made no move from his station, watching and waiting as, eventually, the familiar figure dragged himself up and staggered outside onto the porch. A cigarette was lit with an only slightly shaking hand and lifted to thin, chapped lips. To Jim Gordon's shock, or perhaps not, a shadowy figure and a well-known cowl emerged out of the night in the wake of his exhaled smoke. Sighing, he sank onto the worn porch swing and gestured politely for the other man to take a seat.

To his surprise, Batman did so, with his typical grace, though Jim was more than aware of how odd the situation must seem from an outsider's perspective. Even he had to pause momentarily at the sight of a man he could not recall ever seeing off his feet, settled and stiff on his porch. Sighing again, he took a long drag on his cigarette and let it out, staring at the fuzzy shapes of his neighbors' homes and pointedly avoiding looking anywhere near Batman.

But Gordon was only a man when it came down to it and could not hope to outlast the Bat's determined silence.

"How long were you watching?" he asked at last, worn and so very weary.

The answer took a moment in coming, but arrived with the growl that actually put Jim a little at ease, "Long enough."

He resisted the urge to sigh once more and instead nodded resignedly. Bruce regarded him for several long moments and Jim could admit to the desire to fidget under that overwhelming attention. He was certain he should be upset, angry, feel something, at his partner's spying, his discovery of just how bad things had become…but he couldn't work up the will to be anything but tired. Batman's voice, deep and edged by a softened growl now spoke, "You are my partner."

Jim turned to him finally and raised an eyebrow, confused. Batman studied the night air this time and continued, "You've told me before that partners stand by each other." Those bottomless eyes knew him at a level Jim wasn't sure he was comfortable with anyone knowing, but again, he couldn't be upset. This was Batman. This was his partner. If he couldn't trust this man, then there was nothing left to hope for. Batman seemed to read his thoughts, as always, and he would swear he saw those grim lips twitch in something like a smile.

"Whatever happens, I will be here."

Jim almost smiled then, feeling a small portion of the weight on his shoulders lift at the promise, I will always be here when you need me. With an indrawn breath, he faced away from that comfort and confessed to the one man he knew would never judge him, never desert him, "Barbara wants a divorce. She's picking up the papers in the morning and wants to be out of the city with the kids by the end of the month."

The grief pulled at him, but one glance at the solid presence to his left anchored him. Bruce was silent, not revealing the guilt that ate at him when for all his power, he could not protect one good man from this pain. Hardly able to master his frustration, he stood. He turned, where he towered over the seated figure of Jim Gordon and saw the sorrow shrouding him. Instinctively, he reached out to comfort the man, somehow, someway, he had to be able to do something—his gauntleted hand fell to a thin shoulder.

Gordon stared at him, startled at the rare contact, and smiled at the faint squeeze before Batman disappeared into the early morning drizzle. With his partner beside him, he knew he would survive this. Life would be rough and trying, but he would adjust and forge on – with help too strong and too stubborn to ever let him fail.

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