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Jim Gordon only wore his uniform to funerals and formal affairs held by the city. At the formal affairs, he often encountered Gotham's own prince, Bruce Wayne. The younger man usually appeared out of the crowd, a beautiful woman on each arm (different women each time,) a drink in hand, moving in that perpetually almost-drunk haze social drinkers can achieve. At funerals, if it wasn't someone high enough in the social strata to rate Wayne's appearance, he saw flickers of a black cape or pointed ears from the corner of his eyes. The fact that the two were never visible at the same gatherings wasn't enough for him to even think about. What finally confirmed the nebulous suspicions Jim had never voiced was the day that Batman had stepped forward from the shadows.
A young patrol officer had tried to stop a rapist. He'd bought the girl time to escape, but at the cost of his own life. The rapist had taken the officer's badge and used it the next night to lure another girl. At the officer's grave, after the priest had spoken, a solid shadow had dropped from a tree and moved through the crowd. The mourners had been frozen in silent shock, wondering what he was doing there. Batman's gaze never moved from the casket, but Jim had the feeling that the man still could have given descriptions of every person in the crowd. The vigilante had walked directly to the casket and set something small on top. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried in the twilight, "Your badge will never bait another innocent girl, and your killer is now in custody. Rest in peace, Officer Davidson."
As Batman had turned to leave, his eyes had met Jim's, and for a split second there had been emotions in them. In that second, Jim had had a revelation. Batman's eyes were as empty and cold as Antarctica, Bruce Wayne's eyes were as empty as a frat house during spring break, but both men had the same blue eyes. And in that moment of emotion, Jim had seen Bruce in the Bat's cloak.
After that, it seemed like every time Jim put on his uniform, the man was there, in both personas. Slowly, he realized that it wasn't paranoia on his part, or a new hypersensitivity to the man's location. Bruce seemed to seek him out without looking, standing as close as possible or bumping into him as they passed each other. When it was Batman, it was how close the vigilante could hide himself to where Jim was in the crowd.
As Jim pulled on his uniform for yet another city function, his only questions were whether Bruce knew that Jim knew, and whether he wanted to deal with the implications of pursuing the complicated man in return.