Pairings/Characters (this chapter): The Angel Of Death (Bruce)/Jim (See Author’s Notes), Tony Zucco, Jake Creighton
Genres: AU, Drama
Rating (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: Not sure if warnings are necessary, but it’s quasi-religious imagery.
General Summary: The Angel Of Death becomes Jim Gordon’s Guardian Angel…but can this arrangement last?
Chapter Summary: Jim’s job becomes easier with a Guardian Angel hovering over his shoulder.
Date Of Completion: February 22, 2009
Date Of Posting: June 23, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 780
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Yes, this is a Bruce/Jim series, though it will be pretty unusual. ;) Bruce-as-The Angel Of Death is a character I created in The Better Angels, a Clark/Bruce story I wrote last year. You need not have read that story to understand this one. And if ever a ‘verse fit…! ;)
The entire series can be found here.
ANGEL ON MY SHOULDER
In the city
That crushed it?
There was irony
That the city’s Light
Should be Dark.
Of black wings
"City Of Darkness"
Jim Gordon grew accustomed to Death hovering over his shoulder.
In Gotham, it was practically a given, but in his case, there was a difference. It was one thing to say that Death was with you, but quite another for Death to be literally a Dark Angel following you around.
He did his job, feeling no longer quite so alone. Maybe Death was an odd partner to have, but Jim felt comfortable with his Angel in the shadows.
Jim hunched against the weather, rivulets of rain running down his collar. He checked his watch. It was time.
He and the SWAT team moved forward. This Mob gathering was in for a shock.
The warehouse was quickly invaded, but the kingpins’ guards were vigilant, firing back to give their bosses time to get away.
Jim saw Tony Zucco slipping out a door only three feet away. He followed, scanning the alley.
Jim spun but he saw the flash from the gun barrel, bracing for the bullet’s impact when he heard a loud rustle of wings.
The Angel Of Death swooped down, the bullet clanging off his Sword. A rasping snarl grated out, “Foolish varlet! You will not harm my liege!”
“What…what are you?” Zucco stuttered as he staggered back, wide-eyed.
“A Protector. Would that it was your Time. I can see your soul’s rot, murderous scum.”
Jim shook himself out of his immobility as he stood behind the spread wings. He noticed they were soft feathers, not leather like some Fallen One. He stepped around Death, gun raised.
“Drop it, Zucco!”
The gangster opened his mouth, then shut it as he glanced at the Angel. He dropped his gun.
“Good choice,” Jim said. “Turn around, hands on the wall.” Jim quickly patted him down, then yanked Zucco’s hands behind his back and snapped the cuffs on. “You have the right to remain silent…” When he finished the recitation, he said, “Thank you…” as he turned around.
No one was there.
“What the hell was that?” Zucco asked.
“A Protector,” Jim said with a smile.
Word flew around the Gotham City Police Department and the underworld about Jim Gordon’s new Protector. Some people scoffed while others’ eyes narrowed.
People began to dismiss the apparition as Zucco going for the insanity plea until they saw the winged creature shadowing Jim Gordon when he was out on the streets working a case.
Jim grew accustomed to what he was thinking of as his Guardian Angel. He felt safe as he traversed Gotham’s worst sections, walking the Narrows without fear.
Jim ducked as the bullet whizzed over his head. He directed his men, mindful of the hostages the gunman was holding.
A jewelry store robbery gone wrong had dozens of police cars ringing the store, glittering jewels in the window an elegant backdrop to desperation.
“SWAT’s on the way, sir,” said a young, fresh-faced patrolman.
Jim nodded. He frowned slightly. He couldn’t ‘feel’ his Guardian Angel. Well, he had a job to do. He couldn’t rely on his Angel all the time. He didn’t want him to become a crutch.
Still, he liked heaving that calm presence around.
A scream from inside the store re-focused his attention.
“Come in here, Gordon! I wanna talk!”
“Sir you can’t…” said the patrolman.
Jim smiled. “Don’t worry, son. I’ll do what I have to do.” He stood up. “I’m coming in, Creighton!”
He went inside the store, radiating calm.
George Creighton had four hostages: three salespeople and a customer. They were sitting up against the main display case, anxiously watching the arrival of Police Commissioner Gordon.
“Give it up, Creighton, before someone gets hurt.” Jim’s hands were out at his sides, no gun in sight.
The black-clad robber sneered as he trained his Magnum on Jim. “Forget it, Commish! I want safe passage outta here now!” He pointed the gun at the female customer, who shrank back in terror.
“Listen, son, just stay calm and we’ll work something out…”
Anger surged up in the gunman, swinging his gun toward Jim as his hand shook slightly.
“Throw your gun over here, Commish!”
“Don’t lie to me!” Creighton screamed.
Jim opened his trenchcoat. “I don’t have any gun. See?”
“Don’t lie to me!” Creighton shrieked again as he pulled the trigger, gun blazing.
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