"The Crown."

By B.B. Asmodeus.

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Fandom: Gotham (2014).

Couples: Jim Gordon/Bruce Wayne (main). Mentions of Bruce/Selina, Bruce/Others, Jim/Sofia, and Jim/Lee.

Rating: Adult overall.

Summary: Post-4x11. After being played big time by Sofia Falcone, Jim looks for a way to regain control of the city. And it involves contracting nuptials of convenience with Bruce Wayne.

Continuity: Alternate Universe of seasons 2-4. You will know how, if you keep reading.

Extra: The series "The Crown" is responsible for inspiring me to write an AU with Jim and Bruce married, and the Waynes being part of Gotham royalty. Therefore, the title of this fic. However, don't expect many similarities between the series. Also, I'm Mexican and my first language is spanish, any mistakes in this translation are my own.


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i.

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"Today we lost the battle.

Tomorrow we win the war. "

-Sofía Falcone.

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It all started with a wedding.

No. Correction.

It started with Sofia saying, " This is my true revenge, Jim."

It started with Jim thinking "Oh, shit"一realizing that he had been a fool all this time.


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Once the idea came to his head, there was no one to convince him not to do it. Harvey wasn't speaking to him. Lee was missing. Who could act as his conscience?

Jim just had his demons for company.

"Lucius, I need a favor."

Jim still wasn't used to being in Harvey's chair. After pondering three days non-stop for a way to bring down Sofia, Jim had nothing concrete. He was now resorting to desperate options and he knew it.

Fox was trustworthy, curious, and above all, discreet. When he heard him, the man closed the office's door and took a seat. He raised his eyebrows.

Jim leaned over the desk. He didn't allow himself more hesitation. "I need you to help me contact Bruce Wayne."

Lucius was also, incredibly smart. "I see." The man was on him right away. "What are you thinking about doing now?"

Jim took a deep breath. "Can you do it or not?"

"It depends. Would you take into consideration my advice not to approach the boy with any proposal? Bruce Wayne is not the person you remember, Jim."

The last time Jim had exchanged words with Wayne, Jim had broken his promise to arrest the one responsible for the death of his parents under the influence of Strange's serum. About two and a half years ago. After the fall of Indian Hill, back when Jim had gone to look for Lee, and Bruce Wayne had stayed in Switzerland for half a year. Even after his return to Gotham, neither had sought to reconnect.

"I read the newspapers, I'm aware of his nocturnal exploits." Jim winced. "I only ask you because I tried to get in touch with Alfred, but I couldn't, nobody answers at the manor."

Lucius gave the impression that he was thinking very well about the next thing that would come out of his mouth. In the end, Jim wasn't ready, anyways. "That's because Alfred Pennyworth was fired from Bruce's custody two months ago at the request of the young man himself."

Jim swallowed, unable to believe what he was listening to. "What the hell happened?"

Fox sighed. "Neither of them was available to explain it. I visited Bruce a few days ago. Let's just say he wasn't receptive to give explanations… Or to be woken up in the middle of his hangover at 4 o'clock in the afternoon."

Jim felt his plans collapse to its bitter end. "Something must have happened, Bruce was not that kind of kid."

"Do you really believe that? He's an orphan teenager who has gone through some serious traumatic situations. From my point of view, this sort of rebellion was to be expected sooner or later. Don't forget the part of having the world at your disposal and a fairly abundant inheritance. It seems, all this has gone to his head."

Such a thing didn't fit. Bruce was made of a metallic spine. Something must have happened. Jim got up from his seat. He circled the office, hands on his waist. He stopped in front of the window, where the sunset told him his time was running out.

"I have to try, Lucius."

Bruce couldn't have lost all reason despite the recent changes in his behavior. The kid had always been more mature that his age.

"In that case, I'm afraid I don't know the places Bruce frequents at night. The mansion is empty most of the time. Bruce avoids being home at all cost. Trying to communicate with him by phone is pointless. "

"Good thing I'm a detective, then." With a sigh, Jim put on his trenchcoat, resigned to having to hunt down Bruce all night if necessary. "I'll find him, thanks for the warning, anyway. "

Lucius shook his head after a long staring match between them. "I still doubt he's going to able to help you, Jim. For your benefit… don't get your hopes up."

Jim squeezed Fox's shoulder in farewell. He didn't know what else to add. Not even Jim had an idea of what he might find.


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It all started when Jim went to Miami, when he should've left things alone.

Or maybe when he allowed Sofia to welcomed him with open legs and honeyed voice in his ear.

Most definitely when Carmine was killed by his own daughter, gunned down like an animal.

War.


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He thought about looking for Selina for some clue of Wayne's whereabouts, but Jim dismissed the idea as quickly as it came to his mind. The last thing he wanted was Selina reporting to Sofia what Jim was doing.

He had to start from scratch, then. From what he had read on the newspapers.

Bruce had been quite public with his most recent real estate acquisitions. A couple of nightclubs, five restaurants, and even an amusement park - all in the last month. The media was in a frenzy, using all of the kid's night outings to fill the tabloids.

In a way, they made Jim's job easier.

It was Thursday, so Jim doubted at first he would succeed so fast. But in the second night club, there he was.

The collection of stimuli hit Jim hard, leaving him uncertain for a few moments. The music rattled his eardrums. The neon lights were annoying for his vision. The smell of cigarettes, alcohol and sweat from the dancing bodies made him feel out of place.

And he was.

Bruce was another story.

He looked destined to live in the center of the party. The thin frame of his body - God, five times taller since the last time he had seen him - was inserted just in the right place, whispering in a pretty girl's ear from the VIP cabin that hosted them.

Out of control一The chorus of the electronic song reiterated. How appropriate.

He observed from a distance. He didn't go straight to his target yet. He wanted to familiarize himself with this new creature first.

He went to the bar and asked for a beer. He'd changed clothes before starting the hunt, so his leather jacket and black jeans helped him to fit right in.

Bruce had gained a sense of fashion over the past two years. Gone were the wool sweaters and khakis. His black Armani suit was an impeccable shield against the rest of the people around him. Those undoubtedly Juniors living of his father's fortunes simply didn't reach the same level of Wayne. Bruce had them eating from his hand with a charm Jim had previously associated with a sweet boy.

He couldn't lie to himself. Jim had always associated Bruce Wayne with the notion of hope. Of the promise of something good, growing inside this rotten city.

Now, all Jim could see was a young man too poisoned with excess, not someone worthy to reign Gotham City.

It took about an hour for Bruce Wayne to be pulled to the dance floor by his fan club. Despite laughing with a certain air of madness, Bruce's movements weren't awkward when he got up and walked.

So, not so drunk, after all.

Settling among the tumbling bodies of his friends to dance together, the lights of the nightclub painted his pale face. Eyes closed, neck extended, Bruce surrendered to the pressure of the bodies surrounding him, indicating no preference for any gender in particular to guide him through… what people called music nowadays.

It was then, that Jim hesitated.

The Bruce he knew had been obsessed with finding his parents murderer. He had shown interest in being Crowned in the future, wanting the power to manage the city with better ideals. Bruce had been willing to do what the Wayne Dynasty hadn't done in more than sixty years. Jim hadn't needed to hear it from the kid's mouth to know it.

Bruce had wanted to be Crowned.

Like tradition dictated for the last two generations, Thomas Wayne had rejected his inheritance, just like his father before him. The Waynes had allowed Falcone and Maroni struggle for power for years, instead of getting involved in a solution. It'd never been a secret that Thomas Wayne had been a spoiled brat in his youth. And despite having improved his behavior to something more productive for the city over time, Thomas had never taken formal responsibility for Gotham.

Jim had been so sure Bruce would be the exception.

Licking his lips, Jim considered Lucius' advice. -Don't get your hopes up.

What other choice did he have?

It was this, or loosing to Sofia Falcone.

Jim took a last drink of his beer.

-You're crazy, man. Harvey whispered in his mind. -That ego of yours really that big? You think the kid will fall right into your arms?

Jim breathed deeply, pushing his way through the bodies. -No, not my ego.

A hunch.

It was no problem to shove the young man who covered Bruce's back out of his way. He slipped in smoothly, and his mouth dried at the sudden contact of Wayne's body with his. His hand anchored Bruce at the waist to try to stop him and get his attention一He hadn't expected Bruce to let his weight loose against Jim's torso.

He froze, victim of the sensorial assault.

The friction between their bodies turned electrical; a more primitive part within Jim aroused to life. A part that hadn't been touched since Lee had blackmailed into injecting himself with the virus.

"Tired of hiding, Detective Gordon?" It was shouted in his ear, while Bruce's body persisted with its loose rhythm.

Jim swallowed.

Dammit.

This was his hunch exploding in his face.

Being one of the few Omegas in existence in the city, Bruce had been treated with gloves most of his life. That recently seemed to have changed, of course. But two and a half years ago, Jim could remember when Bruce had only allowed to be touched by people he trusted.

Jim had been one of those people.

Bruce rolled his body, and they were face to face in seconds, stressing the almost non-existing height difference. Jim was immediately struck.

Then he remember why he was here. He saw the opportunity and took it.

"Well, you looked busy!"

Bruce smiled, hanging from Jim's neck to continue dancing without losing his balance. Jim pressed his fingers to the Omega's waist, anchoring the boy's hips and pulling them against him hard.

This action had the unexpected effect of taking Bruce by surprise, his facial expression finding lucidity.

Pheromones solidified into something that could be measured. Intermittent breaths. Precipitated heartbeats. Bruce's dilated pupils. Jim's inner Alpha soft grumbles.

He brought his mouth close to Bruce's ear. "I need to talk to you."

Bruce frowned. The young woman behind him tried to draw him towards her, pulling at his chest with manicured hands. Bruce untangled it immediately. He turned around, giving Jim his back, and began to make his way off the dance floor. Jim followed, with no other choice.

They ended up on the roof of the building. The fresh air helped Jim's pheromones to settle down.

"Something tells me that you're not here to enjoy a night out, Detective."

Bruce still had his back to him, hands in his pockets. Incredibly distant when moments earlier he had been spread all across Jim.

"I'm not." Jim walked with determination. He settled beside Bruce, both watching the night. Their city. "I came here for your help."

Bruce snorted through his nose. "I can't think of a way I could be of any-"

"I need you to marry me."

Shocked silence filled the rooftop for a long period of time.

Jim grimaced at his own impulsiveness.

Then, Bruce surprised him again. "Not that I'm not flattered, Detective, but at least we should get to the third date before we can determine if we're compatible for something that serious, don't you think?"

Jim turned his profile. "I'm not joking."

Bruce paused again. "I guess not, it's not in your nature." The young man's face curved slightly towards Jim. His facial expression was as hermetic as a safe. "It doesn't sound less insane, though."

Jim looked at the ground. The city. He returned to Bruce, to his skin illuminated by the moon. "I made a mistake, Bruce. A big mistake that's going to dry Gotham of her last drop of blood一and I… I have to stop it. I have to fix this."

"And you think you'll do that by marrying me?" The incredulity split from Bruce's mouth with an acidity that Jim hadn't see coming. "You really must be desperate, then."

Jim tried to grab the Omega by the shoulder, but this time, Bruce easily walked away from the contact. "Bruce, listen, I know we haven't been close to each other in a long time… But you have to believe that if I'm coming to you, I'm doing it because I trust you."

Bruce made a meditative sound. A cold sound that verged on indifference. "Mm. That's funny. If I remember correctly you seem to have a terrible record when it comes to trusting other people."

Jim opened his mouth -

"Only a fool trusts a Falcone, after all."

His jaw closed with a crunch. It was Jim's turn to collapse into silence.

"Only a fool brings a Falcone to Gotham in the first place, hoping that the lesser evil is sufficient to confront a gangster as Oswald Cobblepot, without suffering consequences."

"I am a fool." Jim admitted, cheeks burning with anger. Shame. "But if there's a chance to tip the power scale between the Mafia and the GCPD in our favor, I'm willing to take it."

"What makes you think I care about any of this?"

If Jim's jaw got any tighter, he would fracture it. Disappointment was a bitter know in his throat. "You don't have to care, Bruce. I just need your name. You could continue on with your life, going to parties, buying clubs, partying with your new friends. I wouldn't get involved in your personal decisions. And once all this disaster is solved, I wouldn't bother you again… I promise."

Bruce examined him with narrowed eyes. It concluded in a ugly parody of a laugh. "Jim Gordon, you really have no idea of what you're asking, do you?"

Gordon ignored the chills. "I think that if I'm here I have一"

"No, you don't. Because if you had, I believe you'd be asking Falcone's hand instead. I think it would work out better for you, in fact." Bruce approached him with measured steps, building up the tension, so that when he was nose to nose again, Jim couldn't get distracted. "Why do you think any member of the Wayne family hadn't activated their power over the last century? Once a Wayne marries, he's committed to it for all eternity."

Jim blinked.

"It is the Law of the Dynasty. 'He who chooses to reign, does so until death separates him from his consort. ' There no such thing as divorce for us, Detective."

Bruce didn't pull his punches to let Jim see how he felt about the old quote, his tone consisting of 90% disgust and 10% sarcasm.

Jim, however, was too stunned to form an answer.

"I imagine by your expression, that it doesn't sound like such a good idea anymore. Certainly my father didn't consider it reliable. He was a big believer of free will. He rejected any notions of forcing my mother to stay by his side just to follow tradition. He was decided to help Gotham in his own way. He'd never…"

The Omega stopped himself.

Jim wondered how long had it been since Wayne had a real conversation that hadn't involved asking for the tab at a bar. Jim was impressed at how fast the young man was able to composed his iron mask.

"Or maybe he just lied to me and romantized the whole thing so that I wouldn't realize that Wayne Enterprises belonged to Don Falcone anyway."

Jesus. This kid was dynamite. One explosion after the other.

"How… ?" Jim shook his head. "How do you know about that?"

If Bruce knew that part, he had to be aware of the existence of the Court of Owls. He had to know that Falcone had been an associate of the organization. But how the hell had he found out?

Jim's hand stretched out, the Alpha inside him urging to offer comfort, but Bruce was adept at slipping within the shadows when he didn't want to be touched.

"I cannot help you, Jim."

And he left Gordon right there on the rooftop, going back to the the neon lights, and the rich teenagers he considered better company.

Just like that, Jim was fucked.


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Bruce slipped in the den in a terrible mood. It wasn't even two o'clock in the morning and yet, Bruce knew he was done for the night. He had left Leslie in the taxi, avoiding her sliding hands under his shirt, because he hadn't been able to handle being touched by someone else. Not right now.

-Wide palm spread across his hip, Jim Gordon's short beard scratching his ear.

Bruce grunted as he turned on the hall lights. He went to the library一

一but stopped short when he saw the fireplace burning.

Only Alfred would take care of keeping the fire going at all times to keep the mansion warm. Since his dismissal, however, Bruce had taken the responsibility of litting the fireplace on himself. He never left it on before going out, tough. He wasn't stupid enough to risk burning the place down in his absence.

"I hope it doesn't bother you, Bruce. The place was freezing… And you sure took your time."

Bruce turned to one of the leather sofas. The female voice belonged to a woman with long brown hair. A woman who knew how to stretch her limbs in possessive manner. Her red lips were stretched in a charming smile.

She was a beautiful woman. Magnetic.

For a moment, Bruce could understand Gordon's weakness for her.

"Forgive me. I didn't know I was gonna get visitors at this time." Cautious, he positioned himself in front of the fireplace, behind the flames. He saw one of the windows opened, the curtain dancing with the wind. "And even if I had known, I'm not sure if I've liked to spend it in your company, Miss Falcone."

"Rude." Sofía Falcone wriggled his nose. "I'm surprised, Bruce. I've always heard wonderful things about you."

"What do you want?"

The smile hardened. "To be sure that we're not enemies."

Oh. Just as Bruce had imagined. "It's inherent between someone like you and someone like me, don't you think?"

"We don't have to follow the same steps of our parents, Bruce. You and I can be a new generation. We can create our own future, our own rules… and in all honesty, I have no reason to wanting to hurt you." Unfolding her legs, Sofia pushed her body up to get off the couch. "Unless, of course... "

"Unless what?" Bruce played along, taking two steps towards her. The french perfume reminded him of her mother.

Falcone placed her hands behind her back. She looked like an opponent . "Unless you allow Jim Gordon to stand between our mutual interests."

Bruce felt something dark and malicious take reign of his sternum. Who was this woman to think she had any right to invade his home this way, and dictate what he should, or shouldn't do?

"Miss Falcone, I must advise you get out of here, before I call security."

He doubted they would be of much help. Bruce consoled himself with the thought that if Falcone had really wanted him dead from the start, Bruce wouldn't have passed the den alive. He had been watched tonight, probably since before Gordon had decided to make contact with him at the club.

She had been waiting for it. For Jim Gordon to come to him.

It was obvious in her big almond-shaped eyes; at her joy at being proven right, concerning Jim Gordon's predictable behaviour. "You wouldn't ruin your life for someone like him, right, Bruce?"

Bruce licked his lips. He felt like pissing her off. "Jim Gordon is one of the best men I've ever met. I think your father shared the sentiment, too."

"Oh, yeah." Sofia laughed softly. "Until he shot my brother to death, of course."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Your brother was infected with the virus, if I remember correctly. Jim had good reasons to kill him."

Sofia shrugged. "I'm not here to talk about my brother, Bruce. He's dead just like my father. They don't matter anymore. What I care about is your answer. You can admire James' qualities as long as you want, but do they fascinate you enough to stand on his side?... The wrong side, I might add. "

Just for a moment, Bruce missed dealing with Cobblepot instead. The guy's intentions, at least, had always been transparent. Money and public recognition. That had made him more manipulable. Gordon had really screwed up by bringing this woman to Gotham, a complete enigma wrapped in cold machinations.

Sofia was a new kind of danger.

"The only side that interests me is my own." Bruce deliberated carefully. "Consider me a neutral participant in your war against the GCPD."

Sofia smiled. "Not what I expected, I admit. But it satisfies me for now." She extended her hand to seal the deal.

Bruce continued with the established protocol, the hard squeeze of her palm on his indicating that the small visit would be concluded in mere seconds.

Taking advantage of the union of her hands, Sofia climbed on tiptoes. She inhaled deeply in his closeness, closing her eyelids in subtle pleasure. When she opened her eyes, the black of Sofia's eyes was an abyss. "We could be invincible together, Bruce."

Bruce resisted from rolling his eyes again. So, not only there had been one, but two Alphas in a single night, officially throwing indecent proposals in his face. Hurray for his self-esteem.

Sofia smelled of red roses; of fertile soil. Of blood coming out of an open wound. Bruce did not qualify such scent as comforting. Sofia could be beautiful, attractive by her air of mystery, and quite tempting with the achievements she had until now as dominant Alpha.

But Bruce was fed up with being a pawn in other people's machinations.

He freed himself from the gloved hand stuck in his and stepped back to allow Falcone to leave the room. Just as the woman was passing the threshold, Bruce felt like making something very clear.

"Tell Selina that if she aids you to break into my property again, the authorities will know where to find her."

Sofia raised her eyebrows. She nodded with amusement in her face. Bruce waited until the sound of the front door indicated that the undesirable visit had left.

He hated the silence that ensued.

The stillness.

For that exact reason he surrounded himself with noise whenever possible. If there was silence, he could hear Ras' Al Ghul in his head. Sofia had presented similarities to him, both in her art of emotional manipulation, and in the heaviness of her presence as Alfa. Bruce's perception was always affected, whether he wanted it or not. An injection of adrenaline always went straight to his bowels, when a good candidate tried to influence him.

He dropped heavily on the sofa. His head fitted right into his knees and palms.

When he closed his eyes, though, he didn't hear Ras' grave tenor nor he saw his sadistic smile.

He found Jim Gordon's face, instead.

"I chose to kill a man in cold blood, and it was the wrong choice, crossing that line.

You'll pay for it over and over again, like I have been… Like I still am."

God.

Bruce moaned in dismay.

That goddamned man.

Who did he think he was, to come back to his life now, as if nothing happened? Had he really expected Bruce to accept the worst marriage proposal in history, just like that? How was it possible for Gordon to be so naive and so cynical about the world, at the same time?

"...it will make you more like the evil you're trying to fight."

The scotch his father had kept for years was easy to find. Bruce had stashed it at the desk for quick access. It wasn't his usual preference, but he considered imperative to numb his throat with the burning liquid.

Maybe that way he wouldn't do something stupid like calling the Police Station and ask to speak with Jim Gordon. The late hour wouldn't matter. Bruce knew that he would find him there, working.

Because that was the kind of man the Detective was; someone who didn't give up.

"You need to be better, Bruce."

"And you need to shut up." With sudden a burst of energy, Bruce threw the glass into the fireplace.

He ended up using the phone, after all, calling for a taxi to take him back to the club.

He couldn't stay in this sad mausoleum for another minute. The ghosts would eat him alive.


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End of Part 1.

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