Chapter Text
Following their meal, Jordan and Bruce left the restaurant and were now strolling arm in arm back through the city in companionable silence. With Gothamites still shaken by the day’s events in their sister city of Metropolis, the streets were mostly deserted and only the rumbling engine of an occasional passing car broke the silence. Overhead, the gathering clouds signaled a coming storm, and at Bruce’s insistence, Jordan was now wearing his suit jacket to ward off the chill of the cold breeze. Their conversation over dinner, two brandies and a shared piece of tiramisu had consisted mostly of general small talk, ranging from childhood anecdotes and high school horror stories to sports and politics, along with a few good-natured arguments on the same subjects. Jordan had also shared with Bruce the general parameters of her military tenure, including the circumstances that had forced her back into civilian life. Bruce had shared some of his personal history well, in addition to clarifying some of the public information Jordan already knew but had been careful to avoid revealing anything that would link him to the League or his alter ego.
As they walked past a local chapel, Jordan suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned to face Bruce.
“Would you mind waiting for me for a few minutes?” she requested. “I want to go inside and light a candle for the souls that were lost today.”
Bruce gave her an affectionate smile, touched by her compassion. Obviously her beauty isn’t just skin deep, he thought. Out loud he said, “I’ll go with you.”
Quietly entering the chapel, Jordan and Bruce stepped inside and found no one else present. Moonlight streamed through the stained-glass windows in the sanctuary, illuminating the meticulously polished wooden pews. Along the altar, dozens of small candles burned brightly across what used to be the choir seats, and a large gold cross hung on the wall below the windows.
Approaching the front of the sanctuary, Jordan and Bruce approached the altar and each lit a candle before crossing over to settle in the front pew. Jordan closed her eyes and bowed her head in silent prayer for a moment before speaking.
“My father used to tell me that God has His reasons,” she remarked. “If that’s true, then I’d like the chance to ask Him what they are for what happened in Metropolis.”
“Given your career path over the last fourteen years, surely it wasn’t your first brush with death,” Bruce suggested.
“No, but it’s not the same. When you’re in the heat of battle, you expect that there will be losses. But the people who died today were all innocent victims of a war which never should have happened.”
“Blessed are those that mourn, for they will be comforted,” Bruce quoted softly.
Jordan afforded him a sideways glance. “Is that a Bible quote?” she questioned.
“Yes. Matthew 5:4”
“I wouldn’t have expected Bruce Wayne to know Scripture,” Jordan remarked lightly.
“It’s Alfred’s doing actually,” Bruce admitted. “I was quite the handful during my teenage years, and he threatened to send me to Catholic school. Eventually we reached an agreement that I could stay in public school if I memorized a different Bible verse every week.”
Jordan sent him an amused smile. It would seem there are more layers to the man than his reputation would lead one to believe, she mused. Or maybe this innate connection between us allows him to open up with me. “I’m sure you would have been a very cute altar boy,” she replied aloud.
A clap of thunder sounded then, and Bruce grinned. “Apparently the Almighty doesn’t agree,” he said wryly.
“You should probably head home before the storm hits,” Jordan suggested. “My hotel’s just down the street, so I can walk.”
“On the contrary, Agent Kent,” Bruce countered. “I would be remiss in my duties as a gentleman if I were to neglect a beautiful princess in need of my protection.”
Jordan scoffed as they rose to their feet. “I appreciate the thought, but this ‘princess’ is more of a warrior,” she said dryly. “I can take care of myself.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Bruce allowed, then reached over to take her hand. “But humor me. I don’t get to be the good guy that often.”
Jordan’s smile widened. “Okay.”
The two exited the chapel.