The Last Good Man In Gotham

 Thomas sat there in the middle of the police station, surrounded by desks as many criminals were being checked in and out, processed or released. It had been raining so one of the officers had put a blanket around his shoulders as Thomas was being brought into the station. He was also holding a mug that was filled with the most awful coffee he had ever drunk, but at least it was warm. He waited patiently until someone finally sat down beside him. The man was rather close to Thomas' age, was wearing glasses, and tried to be friendly as he sat down.

 "Would you like a refill?" he softly asked.

 "One is enough," Thomas replied, "I believe a second mug is cruel and unusual punishment, which is against the Geneva Conventions."

 "Yeah, it's quite bad." The man admitted, "Sorry about that."

 "It's fine," Thomas said, as he really didn't care.

 "Mr. Wayne," the man said, trying to get back on track. "My name is Detective Jim Gordon. I just need to take your statement and we'll get you out of here as soon as possible."

 "You're not charging me?" Thomas asked. "I beat the shit out of that guy?" 

 "I'm sure you did," Gordon replied, pausing for a moment. "He also fled the scene so we have no evidence of your attack, so unless he shows up to make a complaint, there is no crime to actually charge you with."

 "It all seems so unreal," Thomas recalled, "It feels like a bad dream." 

 "The man attacked your family," Gordon reminded him, "I probably would have done the same in your shoes.

 "I'm not so sure about that," Thomas confessed. "I probably wouldn't do the same thing if I had a chance to do it over."

 "I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Wayne." Gordon said, sighing. "I can't imagine what you're going through."

 "Where's my wife?" Thomas asked, wanting to change the subject.

 "She's been admitted to Gotham General," Jim replied, "She's in their psych ward, and she'll be treated there for now. She will not see Arkham unless it's absolutely necessary."

 "It might be necessary," Thomas said, taking the last gaud awful sip out of his mug. "Her mind snapped like a twig. She took things a lot worse than I did."

 "We can take your statement later if you're tired," Gordon said, trying to be sympathetic to the man before him.

 "No, that's alright." Thomas said, "I'd prefer to get it over with today rather than have to come back later. No offense, Jim."

 "None taken," Jim said, trying to be supportive. "So you were watching the opera that night?"

 "Yes, but the show spooked my boy," Thomas replied, "We left early and took the back exit so our departure wouldn't disrupt the show. Usually women get mad when you leave early, but Martha was very understanding. She's a good woman."

 "So what happened next?" Jim asked him.

 "That's when this punk came out of nowhere and stuck a gun in my face." Thomas said, as his voice shook as he remembered it. "He asked for my watch and my wallet and I told him he could have it. I never said no to him."

 "So when did the fight begin?" Gordon asked him.

 "He tried to grab Martha's pearls," Thomas answered, "I know they're just pearls but I gave them to her the day I proposed. It was a knee jerk reaction, I should have let that turd take them."

 "So that's when you grabbed him?" Jim asked.

 "I caught him off guard and clocked the bastard," Thomas explained, "He stumbled back and that's when I ran for him."

 "And how many shots were fired?" Gordon inquired.

 "Just one," Thomas informed him, "But that was all it took to change my world. He was aiming for me and I jumped out of the way. Biggest mistake I ever made."

 "Excuse me?" Jim asked.

 "He only got one shot off," Thomas explained, "And that was the one shot that killed my boy. If I knew that's where the bullet was going, I would have stood my ground and took it for him. I feel like such a coward, and now I've lost my only child."

 "You said it yourself," Jim said, trying to comfort him. "You didn't know where it was going. You were defending your child, and you were trying to stay alive for the sole purpose of protecting them. It's not your fault that you child died. The man who pulled the trigger is the only one to blame here. I wish we could give him the chair, but the best we'll be able to do is lock him away to rot in a cell for the rest of his days and then in hell afterwards." 

 Thomas looked back at the detective. "I hope so too... but it won't make a difference. It won't bring back my boy... or my wife."

 "She might recover," Jim said, trying to give hope. "She'll need your help."

 "I'm a mess myself," Thomas admitted, "Things are never going to be the same."

 "Time will help, Mr. Wayne." Gordon assured him, "Give it time."

 "So no charges?" Thomas asked again. 

 "Not at this time, Mr. Wayne," Jim answered, "In fact, you're free to go. I will not recommend charges and am confident the D.A. won't either. We would however like your co-operation to prosecute the man that killed your son when we eventually find that bastard."

 "You'll have it," Thomas muttered, "That you can count on."

 "There's a man here to pick you up," Jim informed him, "He claims to work for you... Mr. Pennyworth?"

 "Yes, that's my butler." Thomas said, as he had forgotten about him.

 "I'm sorry for your loss Mr. Wayne," Gordon said as he stood up at the same time as Thomas did. He also handed over his card. "If you remember anything else, I can help you update your statement. If you need help, please do not hesitate to ask."

 Thomas reached over and took the card, and then seconds later he shook the man's hand. "Thank you, Jim."

 Jim watched as the man walked away and out of the squad room. In the hallway leading outside there was a well dressed man standing there and he was holding an extra dry coat as he waited.

 "Doctor Wayne," the man said as he held the coat open for him.

 "Alfred," Thomas said as he took the blanket off and let it drop the floor before slipping his arms into the new coat. "Thank you for coming."

 "I heard everything," the butler replied, "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there to help."

 "I appreciate that Al," Thomas said, taking a deep breath. "Right now I want to go home and rest."

 "Of course Doctor Wayne," Alfred replied as he gestured to the door. "I have a car waiting outside. Let's get you away from this horrid place."