Pairings/Characters (this chapter): The Angel Of Death (Bruce)/Jim (See Author’s Notes)
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: Can Jim and his Angel find their way back to each other?
Date Of Completion: March 7, 2009
Date Of Posting: July 2, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 676
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.
NOT SO FAR AWAY
"City Of Darkness"
Death's wings trembled.
This was all wrong.
He had never been anything but calm when dispensing his function. Or grimly satisfied if the soul being taken was rotted to the core. He always enjoyed taking the rotted ones.
But this time he was jittery…distracted…uncertain.
Death withdrew his sparkling Sword from the body whose soul he had taken.
He stared down at the body: a rapist whose Time had come. The Dark Prince would welcome his soul Below.
Death wiped the Sword clean with his cape, sheathing it in his ebony scabbard. He was still shaking. The alleys of this city always made him nervous. He wished he knew why.
Perhaps his uneasiness tonight was because he was still feeling off.
I should be protecting Jim Gordon.
I need to be protecting Jim Gordon.
He had hovered close by, watching from the house on the hill as the Police Commissioner had done his job at the Standish mansion down below.
He was so lonely…
Nonsense! You are used to this. Death is always alone.
Powerful wings propelled him up to the leaden sky.
Flashing police lights made garish red-and-blue rainbows on the brick walls. Jim listened to the patrolman’s report, glad that a murder had been stopped this time. The victim was in bad shape but had a chance at pulling through.
Once in awhile you got lucky, even in Sin City.
“Commissioner!” A young officer ran from an alley. “We’ve found a body!”
So much for luck.
Jim followed the young man deep into the maze of alleys. The sun never shone here.
Jim bent down and studied the body. Stab wound, nice and clean. He recognized the face. “Al Crane. Convicted rapist who just finished a ten-year stretch in the joint.”
“Someone wanted revenge?”
Every year, these rookies get younger and younger.
Jim started to rise when he noticed a sparkle of light around the wound.
Sparkling like jewels.
“Ah, Angel,” Jim whispered.
Sadly, he left the alley, wandering through the other back alleys, feeling an ache deep in his chest.
He looked up at the sound of the soft yet raspy voice.
Jim wasn’t sure he was imagining it or not, but he got the impression that Death was pleased.
Death swept down to land lightly in the alley, standing only a few feet from Jim, who was impressed by the grandeur of the Angel. Not much taller than him, Death’s impressive majesty came from his spread wings and glittering Sword, his hood holding secrets.
“I’m glad to see you.” Jim kept his hands in his coat pockets, a slight breeze blowing his ginger hair. He smelled sandalwood.
Curious. You’d think Death wouldn’t have such a pleasing scent.
“I…wish to continue being your Guardian.”
“Ah.” Jim lightly rocked on the balls of his feet. “I’ll be able to do my job?”
“Yes, but I must be able to do mine.”
“All right, fair enough.” Jim took his right hand out of his pocket to adjust his collar.
“You were at the Standish mansion the other day?”
Pleased that his Angel hadn’t been far after all, Jim said, “Yes.” He cocked his head. “There was a body in the library, very Agatha Christie. It wasn’t your work.”
“No, except that I guided the soul when it left its body.”
Jim nodded. “Can you tell me who did the deed?”
Regret laced Death’s voice. “I cannot. It is not permitted.”
Frustrated, Jim nevertheless said, “Oh, well. Can’t be easy, can it?”
“I can say that you would be wise to check the Cat's Eye Lounge.”
Jim nodded slowly.
He felt happy as he stood in front of his Guardian Angel, the breeze blowing again, a tiny shaft of sunlight setting the jewels on the ebony Sword hilt sparkling, the black wing feathers lightly brushing his fingers, a tingle going through him.
Very happy, indeed.
Still to come:
Book III: Gotham And Gomorrah
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