Bruce/Jim fic

[icarus_chained]

Title:  Moments of Pain, Reaching
Rating:  PG-13
Characters/Pairings:  Bruce/Jim
Summary:  Friends. Brothers. Lovers.
Wordcount:  591
Continuity:  Comics, I think.
Warnings:  Meandering, train-of-thought type thing. Don't take too seriously.

Gotham

Moments of Pain

Reaching

 

　

They are two. Friends. Brothers. Lovers.

One, born twice to the city, once in joy and once in pain. The other, her stranger, adoptive child of mourning. Bruce. Jim. Batman. Commissoner Gordon.

Once, one asked, in words of the heart where trust is born and lost, and never spoken. Can you love her, who was not born to her embrace? Once, one answered, in action and deed, for no reason save that it was the only answer he could give. Yes. Always yes. City of Weeping, where hands must be strong to wipe away the tears. Gotham, lady love, who holds them in her hands. And each other. From that moment, from that answer. Hand to hand, where no other dares to touch.

They mirror, in many ways, touching unseen the heart of the other, echoing in pain and strength. In eyes that bend to the dead, unblinking, shadowing to hide the wounded pity, never looking away. In hands, that touch with delicate strength the remnants, and smooth what frozen pain they can. In minds, that seek forever the curse and cause, to turn it from the weak. In voice, that calls for truth, for order, for a justice long denied. In hearts, that yearn, that ache, that whisper for release. In will, that ever denies the heart. In love, that can never be spoken, only shown.

They are two. Bound, forever, to a cause never to be won. To stand, side by side, in shadow and in light, against the black darkness that rises ever faster. Knowing, ever knowing, that this cause will be the last. They will die, here or elsewhere, but in its name. Never free. Ever willing. Hands reaching for each other, hearts joining to the last, a bond of trust and faith as fragile and strong as spun steel, a bridge that sways and sings in pain with every ill wind, but never falls. Never breaks. To the very last, in death ascendant, even should one hand trace the other's frozen face, and eyes stare unblinking in wounded pity at their fallen form. Unbroken. True.

And why? Why this, why them, why these two? This love, this faith, this trust. For the city. For the people. For the voices crying in the night. For the names sung in memorial for the dead. For the forgotten. For the lost. For the truth. For each other, and the city they hold dear. For their families, and the future that will be theirs. For love. For justice. For faith, and hope, and the trust in the strength of humanity.

For Bruce, because this one man can never see his face, and yet know his heart. For Jim, because this man sees not the arms of the law, but the hope of justice. For both, because of warm hands in the night, and eyes that bear the horror and the hope, and lips that whisper soundlessly of love, and beauty, and all that neither ever see, but ever cherish. Because of love, and friendship, and family, and the blood shed for each other, and the lies spoken to shield, and the understanding that never yields.

On a rooftop, beneath a spotlight. In an alley, over the fallen. On a fire escape, beside an office. In a bedroom, huddled in the dark. Together. Moments of pain, shared and lessened. Moments of joy, celebrated and venerated. Moments of loss. Moments of hope. All they can give.

They are two. Friends, in blood and bone. Brothers, in heart and soul. Lovers, in the moments of pain and warmth.

In love. Always.