Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tick, tick, tick. 

The Bat’s boots kick up water with every thudding step he takes. It’s raining, but it’s always raining in Gotham City. An ever-present drizzle lays over the city like a blanket, smothering her residents in her dreariness. 

It’s the city that Batman so dearly loves and hates at the same time. 

And right now, it’s being threatened. Again.

But there’s something peculiar about this time. It’s not uncommon to find himself chasing a criminal through the alleyways of the Narrows, but it’s confusing that it’s The Clock King. He’s alone, which is the strangest of all considering he needs someone to wind the key at his back to keep moving. 

But he’s clutching to his chest a handmade explosive, so Batman’s got no time to consider the implications. 

Tick, tick, tick. 

The Bat is getting tired. The Clock King doesn’t have human things like stamina and adrenaline, but Batman does. Chasing him through the serpentining maze of Gotham is taking its toll on the body so desperately craving rest. The Bat hardly sleeps anymore. It’s getting harder with the newest wave of crime washing over Gotham. 

I can’t keep going like this, Batman thinks to himself, there’s got to be another way. 

Just then, his eyes catch on the rain-slick body of a gargoyle atop a nearby building, and the idea smashes into him with the subtleness of a truck. 

Of course. It’d have been obvious, if he wasn’t running on less than a handful’s hours of sleep. 

Batman halts in his tracks, hand flying to his waist to grab the handle of his grappling hook. Clock King turns his head towards his pursuer right as The Bat flies up into the air, disappearing into the dark, Gotham sky. 

Tick, tick, tick. 

The Clock King takes a moment to frantically look around. This is the part where the criminal realises, as always, they’re out of their depth. Batman perches on the head of the gargoyle and watches as the wooden man digs something out of his pocket, awkwardly shuffling the ticking timebomb to the crook of his elbow to fumblingly reveal a pocketwatch. He checks the time for a half-second before it’s shoved away again and off he scrambles, tearing down the alleyway. 

It seems the Clock King made his choice: continue running. 

So that’s what the Bat does too. 

He pushes off of the gargoyle and leaps up to the edge of the building. It’s no lesser toll on his body, to be leaping from roof to roof instead of running, but it gives him enough time to begin to formulate a plan to catch The Clock King off-guard. Would it be best to leap down from the rooftop and intercept him as he ran? Or try to steer him towards a dead end? The wrong move could set the bomb off in the heart of the despairing buildings of the Narrows, and who knows how much damage that could cost to the people living within them. 

Unwillingly, his thoughts drift to Selina Kyle. This was her neighborhood, wasn’t it? He could have called on her to help, for the small price of allowing her one of the objects in his mansion. The Bat imagines it now: his friend pouncing from the shadows, tricky fingers far more elegantly suited for the nature of handling and disarming a bomb. 

But Selina Kyle wasn’t around anymore. She’d disappeared into the night when the goings around the city started to get tough, and not even Spoiler could find out where she’d gone to. 

The Bat missed her dearly. But he couldn’t focus on that now. 

He’d made up his mind. From above, he could see that the alleys only kept twisting and turning, leading to more populated areas of the Narrows. He couldn’t risk Clock King finding his way there and setting it off. He’d have to glide down. 

Batman pauses, reaches for his grappling hook again, and then a loud crack echoes through the alley. 

Clock King falls down flat on his back. He’s been struck by something. 

In the suddenness of the attack, the bomb topples from his hands. Frightened, the cuckoo-clock of his heart breaks free from his chest and begins chirping in alarm. Mid-chime one scarred hand clutches the mechanism and hauls the Clock King up to his knees. 

The Bat can’t suppress his surprised inhale as the stranger steps free from the shadows. 

It’s Harvey Dent. 

What’s Harvey doing down here? 

“Time’s up,” Harvey laughs, and from the gravel in his throat Batman knows it’s Harv’. 

The Clock King doesn’t look as terrified as he probably should be. Instead, the wooden man writhes in Harvey’s grip, trying to pull his marred hand from the bird in his chest. 

“You’re going to make me late!” Clock King whines, and Harv’ laughs again. 

“Good.”

Batman figures this is as best a time as any to drop down from the roof. Slinking away to a hidden corner of the building, Batman vaults over the edge and uses his boots to slide down the wall, dropping silently into an alcove in the alley. It’s dark enough to hide him for the time being, but he needs to get closer to the pair. He’s learned now that he can’t trust Harvey to be gentle with criminals. 

True to that thought, The Clock King’s head cracks down against the concrete as Harvey suddenly lets him go. He’s only dazed for a second—then he’s clambering for the bomb again, turning onto his stomach and trying to crawl his way there. Harvey allows him a few moments of hope before he steps down on the Clock King’s hand, pinning him to the ground and allowing him to pick up the bomb instead. 

Harvey hums in mild interest, examining the bomb carefully. It looks like it’s out of a cartoon, fashioned with a big clock in the center loudly ticking down the time all three of them had before they were smeared against the alley’s brick walls. Clock King must’ve made it himself. 

In the end, Harvey forgoes careful bomb defusal. He grabs the biggest bundle of wires at the top and pulls. 

“Harvey, don’t!” 

The Bat is running at him before he realises he’s moving. Harvey whips around in surprise, though he should hardly be shocked. Didn’t he know Batman would be here? 

Harvey returns a “Batman!” as he steps back, bringing the bomb closer to his chest. Thankfully none of the wires broke loose in his tugging, though he’s still got his hand around them. 

Batman realises that he’s looming over Clock King when he hears an “eep!” from the wooden Rogue. But he doesn’t spare him a glance; his eyes are solely focused on the bomb between Harvey’s hands. The man under the mask demands that he rush in, whisk it away from Harvey and save him from another incident, but Batman’s wiser than that. 

Harvey’s wise, too. He notices Batman’s hesitance. 

Harvey’s damaged eye brightens, and that’s when Batman knows he’s gotten an idea. 

“Put the bomb down, Harvey.” It kills him to use the voice he uses on threats around his former friend, but when that former friend is playing with the wires of an explosive, he’s got no choice. 

Harvey cocks his head to the side. “So sure it’s Harvey here, Bats?” 

He mockingly tugs on the wires, and Batman leaps a half-step forward, arms outstretched. 

“What are you even doing here, Bats? Getting territorial? Don’t like it when someone else stops the criminal instead of you?” 

The Bat ignores him. He continues in his attempt to creep forward, but he’s stopped in his tracks when Harvey brandishes the bomb. He holds it out at arm’s length as if to show it off, his hand still curled around the wires. Batman’s got no choice but to hold off and hope that Harvey isn’t as stupid as he’s pretending to be. 

“You’re a criminal, Harv’.” Batman’s yellow, masked eyes narrow. He and Harv’ are not on the best of terms. “I can’t be sure you won’t set the bomb off yourself.” 

That pisses Harv’ off. 

“You’ve never been a man of faith, Bats. You certainly don’t appreciate our attempts to help Gotham!” 

Batman’s outstretched arms turn palm-forward in an attempt to placate the two-faced man. “Harvey. Put the bomb down.” 

A nervous line of sweat drips down his forehead beneath the cowl as Harvey steps back. The left side of his face is sneering, and the ugly yellow of his teeth shines like jewelry. The man under the mask remembers a time when Harvey would never let himself get so disheveled. 

“You’re so scared of this thing?” Harvey asks, taking another step away. “Or are you scared of us?” 

Something dangerous is about to happen. Harvey has that wild look in his eye that Batman can recognise. Harvey’s got a stupid idea in his head. 

“You think we’re just like those costumed freaks, running around, trying to burn Gotham to the ground?” 

His eyes narrow in glee. 

“Well, fine.” 

And Harvey pulls all of the wires out at once. 

“Harvey!” 

Batman is lunging forward in an instant. Before he can think, he’s grabbing at Harvey’s arms, pushing against the other man’s chest to bring the bomb to his own. He squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Harvey’s collarbone against the forehead of his cowl, and he prepares for that to be the last thing he ever feels. 

Until…it’s not. 

The rain around them continues pattering. Batman can feel the hard lines of the explosive against his chest, the strength of Harvey’s arms beneath his hands. 

Batman carefully blinks his eyes open. 

The bomb…didn’t go off? 

He slowly turns his head up to Harvey, and the man looks just as surprised as Batman feels. But he’s not looking down at the bomb. He’s meeting Batman’s eyes straight on, like it was the action of protecting him that’d surprised the Rogue the most. 

Silence grows between the two as they first process that they aren’t dead, then begin to realise the position they’re in. It’s the world’s worst hug—a bomb between their chests and Batman having his face directly in Harvey’s just a moment ago. 

Once Harvey processes that, he’s quick to shove Batman away with a firm hand on his shoulder, pretending like there’s a spot deeper in the alleyway that’s more interesting to look at. He clears his throat, then tosses the bomb off to the side. It lands with a wet thud in a puddle and Batman fails to not cringe. 

“Just like I thought it’d be,” Harvey declares with all of the confidence of someone who had not predicted that at all. “Now let’s deal with…” 

Another realisation: The Clock King is gone. 

He’s completely disappeared during their debating, leaving behind nothing but that very same pocket watch Batman had watched him frantically check only moments ago. Harvey sighs and Batman resists the urge to do the same. The Rogue walks forward, nudging at the watch with his foot, then gets disappointed when it doesn’t prove to be another bomb. Batman takes note of the etchings of rabbits in the gold of the watch.

They’re silent for a long time. Neither of them had really been expecting to make it out of that makeshift bomb disposal, so now it’s just…awkward. Though the Bat misses his oldest friend, he’s got no idea how to talk to him now.

Batman breaks the silence first. “I didn’t know you would be here.” 

 Harvey quietly sinks a hand into his pocket; a motion that raises no wariness out of Batman, because he knows the other man’s just going for his coin. He fiddles with it for a moment before he responds. 

“You know we live around here, right, Bats? What did you expect?” 

Batman’s relieved that it’s his friend’s voice coming from his throat and not his alter’s. 

“At best, I thought you would be at home. Or on your way out of Gotham.” 

I wish you’d have left. 

“It’s been a shitstorm ever since Arkham, hasn’t it?” Harvey sighs. He’s almost wary when he asks, “…What was your ‘at worst’?” 

“You’d be in on it.” 

Batman knows it’s Harv’ when he huffs in response. 

The two-faced man turns to look out in the distance. The storm above them is just beginning to clear; the dying drops of rain are peetering out as the clouds edge their way to the corners of the sky. In the horizon, dawn begins to break over the Gotham skyline. Another threat has been thwarted today, but just barely. 

“I am trying to do what’s best for Gotham, Batman. I know you don’t believe that, but…” 

The Bat steps closer to Harvey, even though the other man isn’t able to tell, facing away from him and all. It’s a silent gesture of peace for what he’s about to say next. 

“Everything you do is based on a coin flip, Harvey. How can I ever be sure?” 

Harvey’s shoulders slump in response. 

He raises up his hand, coin perched on his thumb. He gives it one high flick in the air, and when it lands on his palms, he breathes out another sigh. Harvey straightens up, grasping the lapels of his suit and pulling them over his shoulders. 

His stare is hard when he turns back to face Batman. “Everything I’ve ever done is to clean Gotham’s streets of its filth.” 

Harvey begins to stride towards Batman, and the knight straightens up in response. He’s prepared for a fight, but all Harvey does is callously brush past him, speaking up again as he does. 

It’s Harv’ again when he speaks. 

“I don’t need your goddamn approval.” 

Batman watches Harvey as he disappears down the alleyway, taking with him the rain and the gloom of Gotham city. 

From behind the cowl, Bruce sighs. 

He squares his shoulders and replaces the mask behind the Bat. The little childish part of him—young Brucie Wayne curled up to sleep in his chest—wants to curse Harvey Dent for the way the other man makes him feel. 

It’s a desperate, angry itch he can’t scratch. The fact that he can’t shake the idea this is all his fault, though he knows he can’t be blamed for what Harvey turned into as a result of the failed election. 

It’s still Harvey, though. His best friend in childhood. One of the many people he couldn’t save. 

Like always, the cynical part of his mind wonders how far he’s willing to go; how much he’s willing to say is worth it before he finally gives in the towel. But Batman knows that day will never come. The cape and cowl may as well be fused with his own flesh and blood. 

Batman only hesitates for a moment when he reaches for his grappling hook. He’s tempted to follow after Harvey, considers finding out where Clock King went and bringing him back to Arkham, but in the end he goes with neither option. 

It’s going to be too light outside, and Batman doesn’t operate well in the daytime. He decides to head back to the Batcave for the day—but that doesn’t mean his work is over. Batman needs to ruminate on what Harvey’s said and add Clock King’s involvement to his measly case file back home.

  He fires his grappling hook up at the nearest building’s ledge and disappears from the alleyway. 

Dawn is making her way over Gotham’s sky by the time Batman arrives at the manor. Wayne Manor is the furthest from Gotham that a manor could possibly be. It begs the question of why its owner would choose such a distant location when he spends most of his time within Gotham’s concrete walls, but for Batman it’s a matter of impractical-practicality. Bruce Wayne is a shy man, according to the tabloids, so why would he ever be the one under the cowl? Especially when his mansion looks as if it wants to crawl right into the ocean it borders and away from Gotham’s coast. 

It’s precisely why Batman operates out of it. Well, that and another reason. 

The wind batters his masked face as he glides through the air, hardened metal rods in his cape straightening the fabric enough to allow him to fly like his namesake. Wayne Manor sits directly on a cliffside, but the Batcave is accessible through a small opening behind the cliff it sits on. It’s just far enough down that with the right angle of your jump and the help of the ocean breeze, you can glide right down into that hidden entrance, shielded by the rocky cliffs at your side. 

It’s not the easiest of ways to get into the Batcave. 

But, for obvious reasons, walking through his front door in the cape and cowl makes him nervous. More nervous than cliff-jumping, apparently. 

His boots thud wetly against salt-battered stone as he lands. Batman makes sure to click his wing-rods out of place to fold them back inside the cape. Making your way into the Batcave this way is a tight fit, and he’s not in the mood to repair his cape because of a wayward stone. He leaps down onto a ledge just below the one he landed on, then onto another, and then he’s finally on the more solid ground of his cave. 

The Bat listens to the Batcave’s rush of roaring water as he squeezes out of the tunnel, following a worn stone pathway to find his way to the middle of the room. The entire cave is shrouded in darkness, but to the knight it’s no bother for his eyes. It’s only when the Batcomputer realises he’s there and lights up in response that Batman cringes, hooking his fingers under the line of his cowl to peel it away from his sweat-slick skin. He blinks, attempting to adjust his eyes to the light as he takes his seat at the Batcomputer’s helm. 

With an enter of his password and a couple quick taps of his fingers, he’s got a case file pulled up. It’s…incredibly barren, and that nags at the back of Batman’s skull. For the man known as Gotham’s greatest detective, having so little to go off of makes him feel deaf and blind, especially when he’s up against something he has yet to comprehend. Like all of this. 

Because two months ago, there was a massive breakout at Arkham Asylum. 

They weren’t targeting anyone specifically, that much he knew. Every Rogue had been released from their confinement and let loose in the streets, and Gotham city police only had enough resources to bring back  very few of them. Batman was more equipped, but with this level of crime even he was overwhelmed. 

Ever since they’d been let out, the Rogues had been causing destruction on an unprecedented scale. It was like they were rampaging. 

But there was something off about it. 

None of the crimes fit the Rogues he’d spent so long profiling and getting to know. Rogues careful in their planning were making moves uncoordinated and sloppy, and the few who did tend to stick to irrationality seemed like they were following a carefully coordinated plan. Even those who kept to themselves and their own realm of crime, like Freeze or Langstrom, were participating in the citywide madness. 

Even the ones who didn’t do violent crime were out for blood. 

Batman pulled up a CCTV picture on the Batcomputer. It depicted two of those aforementioned non-violent rogues; mere burglars, Digger Harkness and Drury Walker were, but in that picture they were covered in blood. 

It was the kind of madness that reminded Batman of the Joker. It had been one of her crewmembers that was carrying that bomb in the Narrows, but how could she pull off something so massive without him hearing from Red Hood? Red was monitoring the Joker like a hawk, no way she’d attempt to take him on one-on-one during something like this. 

He had no idea what to make of it. 

And then there was Harvey. 

The Bat pulls up Harvey’s Arkham file and scans over it again. His eyes are attempting to bat away the exhaustion in his mind with every smear of the words on the screen. 

It just makes no sense. Why wasn’t Harvey out wrecking Gotham like the rest of the Rogues? He’s not as opposed to crime as he made it sound just a little while ago. 

Pictures fill Harvey’s file. The Rogue holding up Gotham City bank, locked in a territory dispute with The Penguin—but Batman’s mind could only focus on the image of him pulling out those wires from the bomb. Had he been trying to kill them both, or truly trying to help them? 

Batman pushes his chair slightly away from the computer. He crosses his arms against his chest, reading and re-reading Harvey’s file. 

Maybe he is in on it, and it was all just a ploy. Maybe he isn’t. 

Maybe there’s a way to find out. 

“Computer, pull up the locations of all recently reported Rogue-related crimes, please.” 

With only a half-second’s hesitation, the Batcomputer lights up with a computerized rendition of Gotham city. Across it are blinking red dots—and Batman quickly fact-checks them in his mind with some of the locations where he himself had crossed paths with those Rogues. It’s all accurate. 

Which means that the lower amount of dots around the Narrows can’t be a coincidence. 

Batman’s confused for only a second before realisation breaks over his face. 

“Harvey, have you…?” 

The Bat stops before he can finish that sentiment. He knows better than to instantly assume the best, even in such an old friend. He can’t be too hopeful that what Harvey said was true; that he was genuinely trying to keep the Narrows safe from his fellow Rogues. He needed more information. 

Maybe Harvey wasn’t the only Rogue turning against the others. 

Batman turns his gaze from his computer and locks eyes with his own cowl on the desk. He feels the exhaustion in all of his limbs as they throb treacherously under his skin. Batman knows he needs the rest if he’s going to seek out anymore Rogues. 

He’ll go tomorrow, he decides. 

…

The Gotham Docks. 

It’s where a good chunk of criminal activity happens. That isn’t saying much—everywhere is where a majority of crime happens in Gotham—but the Docks are where it collects. Someone is always trying to sneak something out of or into the city, whether that be drugs, guns, or anything else that could only come from Gotham.

But tonight, Batman’s not focused on interrupting a shipment. 

He’s perched on a rooftop overlooking the Docks, yellow eyes scanning the assortment of shipping containers. Two specific rogues are sneaking around down here, and it’s not any ones he’d expect. Black Mask or the Penguin, sure, but not these two. They don’t deal in mob business. 

Besides it being his job to stop them, he’s also curious. Just wringing their necks and bringing them back to Arkham or the Gotham City Police Department isn’t going to work. He needs to make them talk—piece together this puzzle, one Rogue at a time. 

Movement catches his eye. 

He leans further forward over the ledge and that’s when he spots them in full. It’s just one half of the pair, but wherever the Firefly goes, Maxie Zeus is quick to follow. 

The most curious thing is that Firefly isn’t wearing their costume. It’s not the most well-made costume out of the Rogues, but Firefly made it themselves, and they’re extremely fond of it (Batman had never heard the end of it after tearing parts of it, the last time they’d fought). To be out on criminal business—as Batman suspects, they’d never be out casually around here—without it means something is off. 

Batman watches as they duck behind shipping containers, heading forward with purpose. They’re after something, but Batman can’t place just what yet. Not until he finally spots Maxie Zeus on the other side of the Docks, sneaking around just like her companion. 

He notices that they’re wearing stripes. Not that he’s one to judge their fashion, but these are the kind of stripes you only find out of a Halloween store’s “prisoner” costume section. He makes a mental note of it, but mostly writes it off as strange youth fashion. 

There’s something else much more important than their fashion sense, now that Batman’s located the other half of the pair. There’s someone in the middle of the maze of shipping containers; a thin, blonde woman, who seems to be keenly aware of Firefly stalking behind her. She must’ve gone into the Docks to try and escape the Rogue, never knowing that their other half was after her, too. 

In an instant Batman is darting off of the roof, straightening the poles in his cape so he can glide from the nearby edge and down to the shipping containers below. 

His feet land upon one of the containers with the soft clink of his boots. He’s good at that now, soft landings, and it appears to serve him well when neither of the Rogues even notice he’s up there. Batman runs to the edge and leaps from it, landing on the corner of another shipping container. The meeting of the metal on the corners means it hardly rings out when he sticks his landing. 

He runs across the next shipping container, and then the next, quickly gaining on the two Rogues that have now joined their paths, following the woman as one unit. Something about their gait is concerning to the Bat. It’s like they’re being puppeted forward by their goal; merely shuffling along like zombies in pursuit of their prey. 

They manage to get her cornered. But thankfully for her, there’s a shipping container to her right that’s just close enough for Batman to jump from it and down directly in front of her, blocking her from Maxie and Firefly just as they begin to close in.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” Batman growls out. 

Maxie and Firefly look at each other, grins plastered across their faces. It’s unnerving, how unbothered they seem to be. While they hardly take Batman seriously on the best of days, something about them seems…hazy. Batman can see the faintest glint of yellow around their pupils. There’s something wrong with them. 

Firefly chirps out, “The first thing to say when you drop in is “Hello”, Batman!” and almost on cue the pair stick their hands out for a handshake. 

Obviously, it is refused. That doesn’t deter the pair, however, as they merely reach out to attempt to grab his hands regardless. He smacks them away with a couple of hard blows to their forearms—so they settle on shaking each other’s hands. 

Batman attempts to wrangle himself away from his confusion when he huffs out, “I don’t like repeating myself.” 

This grabs the pair’s attention long enough for him to ask what they’re doing again. Like children, the two peek over Batman’s shoulders and to the woman who stands beyond. As Batman turns to look at her himself, he feels nothing but pity upon seeing her absolutely terrified expression. 

He’ll make sure she gets home safe after this is over. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Bats,” Maxie finally speaks up, voice rasping with mischief. 

“But it’s not that.” Firefly swipes a finger across their throat. 

And this is where it gets confusing. 

They begin speaking almost in tandem, switching off parts of their sentence like everything they’re saying is rehearsed. Batman almost can’t keep up with it. 

Maxie. “But if it was—” 

Firefly. “And we might—” 

Maxie. “And if we do—” 

“Then we would—” 

“But right now—” 

“We ain’t!” 

And then the two of them lean forward, speaking as one. “That’s logic!” 

Batman stands and stares at the pair for a very long while. “...What?” 

They’re normally weird, but not this weird. The idea there’s something wrong with the two grows stronger in the Bat’s mind, though he has nothing and no one to tie it to. Is this self-inflicted strangeness, like a bad mix of drugs or something else, or are they being influenced by someone? 

Batman shakes his head. Figuring that out this second doesn’t matter, not while they’re actively threatening a woman. He can figure out what’s wrong with them after they’re taken into custody. 

“I’m taking you two in,” Batman declares, and the two in question immediately start whining. 

The Bat ignores them as he grabs their arms, pulling them closer to his body so they’ve got less of a chance to scramble away. Batman doesn’t usually treat the Rogues like insolent children, but he’s barely gotten any sleep the past few mornings and Maxie and Firefly are begging for it right now. 

Batman looks down just in time to see Firefly’s free hand reaching down towards their pocket for something. 

Instinctively, he lets go of Maxie Zeus, grabbing Firefly by the bicep and forcibly wrenching their hand away from their pocket. He realises what a bad idea this is when he feels Maxie’s hands around his fabric-covered arm. She’s got her hands on the parts of his body both easily accessible and not covered too thick or by rubber. 

He’s practically asking to be shocked. And shocked he is. 

It nearly knocks him off of his feet, and all he can do is gasp. At least it was just his arm, but the burn of the pain and the seizing of his muscles means Firefly slides out of his grip. Maxie Zeus scampers back as he reels to attempt to throw a punch, and then the two of them are free again. Batman curses himself as he watches Firefly reach for what he knows is a smoke bomb.

He lurches forward, but his muscles are still electrified from Maxie’s blow. He’s too slow to prevent Firefly from pulling the pin and chucking it directly at his head. He grunts as it makes impact, clouding his breathing vents and eyes with smoke. He can still hear enough to know that the two are laughing at him—though it’s growing distant, which means they at least are running away and leaving the woman behind him alone. 

They’ll be off making mischief somewhere else, and he failed to take them in, but at least she’s alright. 

Batman stumbles backward and out of the cloud of smoke, coughing behind his cowl and trying to rub his lenses to clear them. He feels a light touch against his shoulder and it startles him enough to cause him to whirl around, hands raised in case Maxie and Firefly have found their way behind him. 

He only finds the woman he’s just saved jumping away from him in fright. 

Batman relaxes, dropping his arms and slumping his shoulders. Everything about him reads weary, and something about that calms the woman in front of him. He’s found when it comes to citizens, a more…human presentation serves to put them at ease. In reality it’s just an excuse to drop a little bit of that mask without jeopardizing his mission. 

“Are you alright?” he quietly asks. 

The Bat attempts to memorize her features. Everything’s still a bit foggy behind his lenses, but he wants to check back at the Batcave to see if she’s some sort of political target. Or if she means anything to Maxie and Firefly at all. 

Her features aren’t ringing any bells in his mind. 

“I—I’m okay, now. Thanks to you.” 

She falters, hands knitting together. Batman can tell she’s nervous, though he’s not sure if it’s because of the encounter or because of him. 

From beneath his cowl, his eyes narrowed. He’s not upset by this fact, but he’s saddened that it’s a fact at all. His city is going to ruin and he can’t even catch two D-list Rogues—why should his city trust him? He turns to look behind him at where the smoke is finally beginning to dissipate. 

“Do you know why you were targeted by them?” He looks back at the woman. 

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t even—know who they are. They just started following me, and I came to the Docks because I thought I could lose them.” 

Batman breathes out a quiet sigh and it clouds in the air in front of him. She must be cold. 

“...I’ll make sure you get home safe.” 

Batman walks alongside her through well-worn streets, instinctively slinking through the shadows. It does very little to put the woman next to him at ease, but if Firefly and Zeus are that intent on seeking her out, perhaps they’ll not notice his presence at all until it’s too late. 

It’s not kind to use her as a sort of bait, but the action’s soothed by the fact they don’t run into anyone else that night. 

They reach her door with little fanfare and even less conversation. Batman has never been one for talking, but being in the Narrows again has his mind even more distracted than usual. He looks around the streets for the flash of blue and gold he knows to be Harvey—Hell, he’ll even take the sharp end of Selina’s whip, at this point. 

He craves a friendly face. 

His yellow eyes move to the woman as she turns to face him. It looks like she’s caught between wanting to bolt back into her apartment and thinking she needs to say something for him. He remains silent. 

“Thank you, again, really. But is it…” she trails off, taking a minute to find her confidence. “Is it always…going to be this dangerous?” 

It’s a question Batman can’t answer. 

What’s crueler: to make a promise you can’t keep, or not promise anything at all? He’s sure the Riddler would have an answer, but he’s not as primed for puzzles at the moment. Batman decides to not give her either. 

“Have a good night,” is what he says. A pathetic non-answer even to his own ears, and as easily as in daytime he watches her eyebrows knit together and her bottom lip tremble in response. He considers saying more, but she’s already turning away and opening the door, disappearing into the blackness of the apartment building before he could conjure more comfort. 

It’s for the best. Comfort isn’t his strong suit. 

But he really needs some of it right now. He finds that his feet are moving without him willing them to, leading them in a direction his heart aches when it recognizes. 

He’s walking to Selina Kyle’s place. 

She’s been missing now for a few weeks. Unexplained absences are normal for her—she’s hardly in the business of telling him when she’s off on a heist or planning one—but with the way the tide’s turned in Gotham…he can’t help but fear the worst. 

And if she’s not hurt, is he so selfish to wish she’d told him before she fled the city? They’d always be on opposite sides of Gotham’s war, but they were still friends. 

He removes the grappling gun from his belt and fires. It hooks into an open windowsill and he flies upward on it, snagging his arm around the ledge and using it to haul himself inside of the apartment. 

Selina Kyle always kept her place…sparse. Besides the piles of stolen jewelry on the tables, paintings on the walls, and scatterings of clothes and dishes, there’s not much actual furniture or belongings to her name. Only the things she’s collected from others. 

He looks around the apartment like he expects her to pop out from a corner. His eyes do end up catching movement, but it’s not the cat he wants to find. 

It’s Iris, Selina’s favorite. 

More cats begin to pop their heads out from corners of what furnishings Selina does own. It’s mostly dedicated to the cats themselves; he spots glowing green eyes in the nooks of cat trees and flicking tails besides scratching posts. 

Despite his costume choice, he’s fond of them. 

He moves across the apartment. They know him enough by now to recognize him even with the cowl, so all he gets is wary glances and meows as he finds his way to Selina’s kitchen. 

It would have been easier to come here as Bruce, not Batman. He’d hate to attract unnecessary attention to Selina’s place, even if he should be bringing in all of these stolen goods. But considering the last time he’d been in the Narrows he’d nearly been blown up, Batman would prefer the padding. 

One clawed hand wrenches open her dingy refrigerator, and Batman can’t help but laugh when he sees that it’s only filled with canned wet food. Classic Selina. 

He removes one can from its spot besides the others and turns to her cabinets. True to Selina Kyle, the cabinets are also entirely full of cat food bowls. He looks to the bowls, to the can in his hand, and then to the gathering mass of cats behind him. This was not going to feed all of them. 

A significant amount of cans emptied later and finally all of the cats have their dinner. 

He allows Iris to climb up his cape once she’s done and perch on his shoulder—a bad behavior surely only encouraged by her owner. Batman lifts one finger and nudges it under her chin, getting a raspy mew in response. She’s one of those strange looking cats, with the sloped muzzle and the big ears. Selina has a soft spot for the strange ones. 

“Do you know where Selina went?” he asks the black cat. 

Iris meows in response. 

“Ah,” he huffs out a laugh. “She doesn’t tell you anything either?” 

Batman gives her a full-handed pet this time, because she’s earned it. But just as he removes his hand, something catches the cat’s attention, as her eyes snap to the window and the fur along her spine prickles. He gently hooks a hand under her stomach and removes her from his shoulder, placing her upon the kitchen table as he makes his way to the window. 

The first thing he sees is that there’s someone sitting on the roof of a nearby building. 

Batman can’t see much from where he’s standing, so he taps the side of his cowl and presses down, allowing the magnification features of his lenses to bring the figure into full view. 

It’s actually two people, the zoom reveals. 

One is Music Meister. The other is…Harvey Dent. Again?

 The Music Meister (Batman finds that name ridiculous, he’s just going to call her Daichi), has her legs half-crossed on the ledge, slightly leaning towards Harvey. Whatever she’s saying, she’s clearly annoyed by what Harvey is responding with, but at least it doesn’t seem entirely hostile. The LED visor she normally wears appears completely cracked. 

Batman perks the two “ears” atop his cowl. They serve as satellites, transferring distant audio to his real ears so he can spy on conversations without being too close to being caught. The cowl brings Harvey’s voice to him as he finishes off a sentence. 

“—You’re not exactly in a good spot here to not be honest with us.” 

Harvey gestures to the ledge that Daichi sits on. She’s unphased by the threat. 

“Now, I’d say that’s too bad,” she drawls in the same sing-song way that’s brought many a headache to the Bat. 

Harvey takes a threatening step closer. “Why don’t you say what you’re fuckin’ doing here, maestro?” 

Daichi laughs. “And what purpose would that serve?” 

“It’d save you from becoming another stain on the streets of the Narrows, for one.” 

“Oh, what a knock-down argument!” 

Harvey sighs, gripping the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. He’s just about to say something else when Daichi cuts him off again. 

“You know, no wonder you weren’t given a present. You’re quite an unreasonable child.” 

This has Harvey looking up. Batman, too, perks in interest. Maybe he’d get something out of this conversation besides a dead Music Meister? 

“...A present?” Harvey asks, “From who?” 

Daichi crosses her opposite leg over the other. “From the King and Queen, of course.” 

And that’s when Harvey finally loses his temper. 

He launches forward, gripping Daichi by her lapels and dragging her forward until they’re nearly nose-to-nose. Harvey then strides forward, thrusting Daichi out and dangling her upper half off of the rooftop’s ledge. Batman places one hand on the windowsill and gets prepared with his grappling hook just in case he needs to sweep her up before she hits the ground. 

Harvey, his mind warns the other man. 

“One last chance. What the hell does any of this mean?” 

Below him, the Meister grins wildly, not as scared as she should be in this situation. 

“It means what we choose it to mean.” 

Harvey growls, further pushing her towards the edge. He even gives her a couple shakes to really make her think that he’ll do it. But she doesn’t crack. She only looks to be mildly nervous, glancing down towards the bottom of the building, but her lips are sealed regarding the meaning of her words. 

Batman’s genuinely convinced Harvey is about to throw her over the edge for a moment when he lurches forward. 

Then he twists to the side, throwing Daichi behind him and back onto the safety of the roof. 

She immediately shoves herself to her feet and books it away from him, heading towards the fire escape on the other side of the building. Half-heartedly, Harvey looks after her, but must end up deciding against pursuit. Instead, he turns towards the building’s edge, looking out onto the shining city beyond the Narrows. 

If Batman paused to watch Harvey for even a few more minutes longer than he chose to, he’d have seen Harvey turn towards where Batman had been standing in Selina’s apartment. Looking straight through the cracked window. 

But Batman hadn’t. He’d taken off once again into the shelter of night.

Chapter Text

It’s nearing dawn by the time Batman makes it back to Wayne Manor. 

The milky light blue of day is peeking her head through the massive windows of his foyer as he quietly cracks open the door, then pushes it open when no one jumps out to greet him. His shadow stretches before him down his endless front hall, silhouetted by the weak dawn light. Batman allows the ears of his cowl to swivel atop his head, searching the Manor for any out-of-place noises. He can typically trust his home to be secure, but when he’s entering in the cape and cowl there’s an added layer of caution he uses. 

There’s nothing but the creaking of an old house to greet him. 

He relaxes minutely, slipping clawed fingers under the line of his cowl to pry it away from his head. He shakes out his curly hair, flattened to his skull with sweat, as he moves forward down his hall. 

Wayne Manor always looks so gloomy in the early morning. He’s used to it during the night and sparsely during the day—but now the ghosts of the artifacts lining his front hall grow over the walls, shrouding him in darkness despite the sky’s best attempt to light his manor. Batman supposes it suits him, this dreariness. He sometimes wonders if any part of his massive home actually feels like home, or if that’s a title reserved by the Batcave. It’s certainly the most lived-in part of the manor, that’s for sure. He mourns the lack of use his bedroom gets. 

“Master Bruce?” 

Batman’s shoulders shoot up in an aborted flinch, the knight whirling around to greet the face of his butler, Alfred. His sudden appearance might’ve spooked him, but Batman is glad that there’s a friendly face roaming these gloomy halls. He’s always happy to see his dear friend, though he feels bad that he’s still up at this hour. 

“I told you that you don’t have to wait up for me,” Bruce huffs out. 

Alfred disappeared back into the side room he popped out of, wheeling out the laundry cart Bruce knows is dedicated solely to his armor. He pushes it up beside Bruce, then reaches his hands out to take his cowl from him and set it atop the cart. 

His friend deadpans, “And run the risk of being woken up when you arrive home needing emergency stitches again?” 

Bruce laughs as he begins to unbuckle and untie parts of his costume. He begins with the cape, unwinding that from around his shoulders, then moves downward to the shoulder brace around his torso and the pads and gloves on his lower arms. 

It’s always been a process, getting the armor on-and-off every morning and night. At least Alfred won’t have to clean off any blood tonight. But it does beg for a bit of conversation to fill the air while Bruce struggles out of his costume. 

“I saw Harvey again tonight,” Bruce blurts, because that’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Alfred hums in response, raising a critical eyebrow. “Did he pull another bomb prank on you again?” 

“No.” Bruce bends down to untie his boots once his gloves and knee and elbow pads have been discarded on the cart. “He was talking to Music Meister on top of a roof in the Narrows, for some reason. He nearly killed them.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“I’m not sure. They got in an argument over why they were there, and he just lost his temper. It seemed like he was trying to get information.” 

Alfred takes the boots and places them on the bottom of the cart. The grime of Gotham is ever-present, though it has no place infecting the cleaner parts of his armor. The utility belt, rope, and grappling holster are the next to be removed. 

“You really think he’s trying to protect the Narrows?” Alfred asks. “Why is he trying to protect Gotham, when all of the other Rogues are running amok?” 

Bruce sighs. “I’m not sure. Whatever they’re in on, I’m not sure if he’s a part of it.” Bruce hesitates, “Harvey’s just different than the other Rogues.”

Alfred’s eyebrow somehow arches even higher than before. 

Bruce gave him a sidelong glance that tells him to keep whatever opinion he’s got in his head to himself, thank you very much. “…I think I’ve got to figure out why the Rogues are acting like this to figure everything else out. That way I’ll be able to stop them, too.” 

He’s finally finished with stripping down the majority of his costume. All that’s left is the thick fabric he wears underneath, which he’ll discard somewhere where it won’t leave him naked in his front hall. 

Alfred cleared his throat. “May I suggest you go down to the Cave and talk to the ladies? They may be more help than I at deciphering everything going on.” 

Bruce merely smiles at him. “You’re plenty helpful, Alfred, thank you. But that’s a good idea.” 

“May I also suggest you change first?” 

Alfred glanced down at the remainder of his armor, wrinkling his nose. Bruce wonders if he should be offended, but honestly, a night out in the Narrows will do that to you. A night out in Gotham City in general will require a deep cleaning of your clothes most times. 

“Already planning on it,” Bruce chuckled, rolling his eyes in Alfred’s direction as he turns to find his room. 

…

One change of his clothes later and he’s down in the Batcave. He’s got a meeting later that morning, so he’s already in his business suit. Bruce used to never imagine that being in an actual suit would be more uncomfortable than a Bat-themed one, but he pulls at the tight collar around his throat all the same while he waits for his girls to pick up their phone. 

It rings, and rings, and rings some more, before they finally decide it’s important enough to pick up. 

Red Hood’s masked face fills the screen, displaying all of her annoyance just in the furrowing of the fabric near her eyebrows. 

“What do you want, Bats? It’s dawn and I was just about to go home and crash.” 

Someone else takes the phone, and then there’s Spoiler, her own half-masked face glaring up at her girlfriend. He can see just how light it’s gotten outside behind the pair, and he genuinely does feel bad about needing to contact them so early in the morning. 

Spoiler looks back down at the phone and shoots him an apologetic look. “What’s up, B?” 

“I saw Harvey again tonight,” he announced. 

Somewhere off screen he hears Red wolf whistle. 

Spoiler asks, “He’s still not acting weird like everyone else?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, he’s not. Tonight he was threatening Music Meister to tell him what they were doing in the Narrows. If they’re working together, he’s not in on it.” 

Red peeks her head over her girlfriend’s shoulder and wraps her arms around her. “I’m not even sure if they’re working together, Bats. I mean, none of it seems…coordinated, you know? They’re just turning Gotham upside-down.” 

“Yeah, but all of them at the same time?” Spoiler turns to look over at Red. “Plus that breakout at Arkham? It’s too coincidental!” 

Bruce interrupts them before they can start talking about confidential case information out in the open. He lifts a hand, “I don’t want either of you two to worry about that. How is everything on both of your ends going?” 

Red Hood made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. “Tea parties all day and night, man.” 

Spoiler interrupts. “…It’s not easy. Whenever we swoop in to try and stop something, or help clean up the damage, there’s something else on the opposite side of the city that needs our attention.” 

Bruce sighs again. 

“Just do the best that you both can. I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as I can and put an end to it.” 

Red grabs the phone from her girlfriend and brings her face into full view, staring into the camera incredulously. “And how are you going to do that if you won’t let anyone help with the case, dark detective? There’s too much to do on your own! It’s going to take forever!” 

Her companion pops up on the corner of the screen to add in, “I have to agree with Red here, B. I’m not the best detective, but…” 

“No,” Bruce says firmly. “Please, the innocent people of Gotham need you two out there helping them more than I need you in here helping me. I’m already asking enough of you two—your consultation is enough help for the case.” 

There’s a pause, and then Red snaps her fingers excitedly. 

“I got it! What if you asked Harvey?” 

Spoiler and Bruce both let out a “What?” 

“Think about it, B! Harvey’s immune to whatever “Fuck Gotham” disease is going around in the Rogues, plus, I dunno, maybe they’ll be a little nicer to him than to you, since he’s kind of one of them?” 

It’s a fair enough point, but Bruce still felt the need to add, “Music Meister didn’t treat him so kindly in their chat.” 

Spoiler raises a finger, “But Harvey didn’t get electrocuted and smoke-bombed.” 

“Exactly!” Red chirps, “And it’ll let you keep a closer eye on him, and let us be out on the street doing all of your dirty work. Plus if he’s not friends with the Rogues, there’s no threat of him leaking your moves.” 

Bruce hummed skeptically. If you’d have asked him a long time ago, trusting Harvey would be a no-brainer. He was his best friend, he’d trust him with his life. But now? Harvey could only be trusted half the time at best—and who knew if he was in on it or not, and it was some elaborate trap for the Bat. The evidence pointed otherwise, but Bruce couldn’t help but be afraid. 

Sensing his hesitation, Spoiler pipes up again. “I mean…it’s worth thinking about. Right, Bruce?” 

Bruce pauses. “I will…think about it, yes.” 

Red elbows her way back into the frame, tilting her head closer to the camera. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind working a little closer with him, right, Bats?” 

She attempts a pitiful wink through her mask. He can only tell it’s a wink because of the way her mask desperately attempts to crinkle up with the motion, only to continually fail to actually fully blink. She tries it for a few times before giving up with a scoff and a wave of her hand. 

Trying to move past that, Bruce clears his throat. “Alright, that’s all I wanted to talk about. Goodnight, girls.” 

Spoiler pushes her head into the frame as her girlfriend makes kissy noises down at the camera, laughing at her girlfriend’s antics. Bruce feels his face redden and he quickly slams a finger down on the end call button, shaking his head. 

He leans away from the Batcomputer, pulling on the lapels of his suit to straighten them out. There are so many ideas clouding his head now that Red’s put her suggestion out there. But it’s nearly eight in the morning and he needs to go out into the world as Bruce Wayne, not Batman. 

It’ll have to wait until tonight. 

…

It’s all Bruce thinks about while he’s stuck in meetings for the rest of the day. 

When he’s finally heading home at a crisp 7pm at night, he thinks he’s finally made up his mind. He’s decided, reluctantly, that…it wouldn’t hurt to have someone Rogue-adjacent in his quest to discover what was going on. 

His girls were too closely aligned with him to be of any help with anything other than stopping the wave of crime. The Rogues would never spill their guts to them without heavy encouragement, and Bruce doesn’t want to have to tip into violence if he doesn’t have to. He knows Red would be all for it—especially if she got her hands on any of Joker’s crew—but he also doesn’t want to place that burden on him. 

He is Gotham’s detective, they’re just two people dragged into his endless quest. He’s already asking enough of them by sending them out every night. 

But Harvey? This could be Harvey’s second chance; a way for him to align himself with the light instead of the dark. Bruce sure wants it to be something like that, but even if it changes nothing in Harvey, it’s the more practical option, too. 

Harvey’s made it clear he detests the Batman in most of their encounters with each other. Even though Music Meister made it clear he’s not welcome into the fold entirely, he’s still got a hell of a better shot at it than Batman or his girls. 

And besides, maybe he’s got some useful information Batman doesn’t. He does live in the Narrows, after all. 

So when Bruce becomes Batman for the night, the Narrows are the first place he seeks out. 

He’s got a keen idea where Harvey will be. There’s been another kidnapping in the Narrows—an occurrence that seems to only be becoming a pattern with every passing day. Considering it’s in Harvey’s “territory”, he’s sure the other man will be investigating it as best as he can. 

But Harvey’s a lawyer, not a detective. Batman can offer him that much, if he’s unwilling to be helped in any other way. 

Batman peers over a ledge directly over the street corner where the reports of the kidnapping had occurred. The GCPD had been in and out without even cleaning up the scene, and Batman had to wonder if it’s because they were trusting him with the detective work instead of “wasting” their own forces on it. He suppressed a scoff at the thought. 

A woman from the Narrows—why would they bother to care, right? 

True to his assumption, he quickly spotted Harvey moving through the alleyways, approaching the scene of the crime cautiously. If he’d been smart, he wouldn’t have been wearing his half-and-half getup while trying to be sneaky, but Batman knew by now Harvey was stubborn when he decided on something. Unfortunately, the gaudy outfit was one of the things he’d set his mind on a long time ago. 

It was nothing like the outfits he’d used to wear. While Selina and Bruce had explored more outrageous fashion in their youths, Harvey had stuck with what his mother had loved to see him in. The poor mama’s boy had been teased constantly by his companions. Maybe that’s another thing he’d internalized that Bruce hadn’t known about. Maybe his other half was exploring all of the things Harvey had pushed deep down inside throughout his life. 

Batman watched as the two-toned Rogue prowled around the scene of the kidnapping, and he decided to take a closer look upon it himself. The most obvious things were black tire marks across the sidewalk where the person had presumably been taken. It looked as if they’d come flying down the street, hopped the curb, and threw them in, taking off back down the road once they were finished. The way the woman’s—he presumed it to be a woman, when his eyes caught a purse—belongings were strewn across the street made that scenario the likeliest in his mind. 

But Batman needs a closer look than at the top of a roof. He wants to know who was kidnapped, and the purse lying on the ground was the easiest way to find that out. 

His cape fluttered as he took off down the roof, gliding down to the ground and landing with the solid thud of his boots. Harvey immediately whipped around to face him, arms braced in the air in case he needed to fight his way out of a capture. 

Batman raised his own hands, palms out in an attempt at a peaceful gesture. “I’ve got no reason to arrest you, Harvey. Don’t give me one,” he warns. 

Harvey’s eyes narrow for a moment before he allows himself to relax. Hopefully the relatively peaceful nature of the bomb encounter (as peaceful as it could’ve been when you didn’t know if you were going to blow both of you up or not) had calmed his nerves around the Bat enough to allow him around without bolting immediately. 

“What are you doing here, Bats?” Harv’ growls out. “Thought you were done with the Narrows.” 

“You’re talking about the Music Meister.” 

The way Harvey blinks in surprise when Batman announces that means he hit the nail on the head. 

“I saw you two talking,” Batman explains, “Back on the rooftop. I was investigating another disappearance. I’m proud of you for not throwing them off of the roof, Harv’.” 

Harvey scoffs, crossing his arms and moving around to the opposite side of the outlined crime scene. “I don’t need your praise, Batman. He just wasn’t any damn use to what I was trying to figure out.” 

“What were you trying to figure out?” Batman makes his way to the purse lying on the ground. He notices there’s a woman’s high heel lying on the ground as well, red and shining in the polluted light of Gotham. 

He gently picks up the purse as Harvey answers with, “A whole lot of nothing, apparently. She wouldn’t answer a damn question I had with anything that made sense.” 

Batman tips his head to the side. At least they’ve both come to the same conclusion: it was extremely strange. He unzips the purse and searches around inside, but he comes up empty-handed. Whoever took this woman wanted to ensure that those looking for her wouldn’t be able to easily figure out her identity. 

But they must’ve known that they were dealing with the Batman. 

He replaces the wallet and instead moves forward to the shoe. He picks it up just as gently and places it inside of the purse, zipping up the bag and hooking it to an empty carabiner on his utility belt. It’ll be easy to find some sort of DNA on this woman’s belongings—either from her or from her attackers. 

Harvey’s watching him the entire time. He’s probably surprised that Batman is proceeding without going after the Rogue in front of him, because Batman isn’t doing anything more interesting than a GCPD-approved detective would be doing. If they bothered to do their jobs. 

“...Did you come after me, or the woman?” Harvey finally asks, genuinely confused. 

“Both. I needed to speak with you, and I knew you’d be here.” Batman looks back up at Harvey’s dual-colored eyes. “And I need to find her, too.” 

“You think she might be connected?” Harvey cocks his head to the side. “There’s been a lot of kidnappings lately.” 

“She might. I need to see if she fits the profile.” 

“The profile” was any young woman, oftentimes in the Narrows or other disparaging areas of Gotham, who was thin and blonde. Just like the woman Firefly and Zeus had been pursuing the other night. 

“I noticed something, Harv’, about your conversation with the Music Meister.” 

Harv’ grunts in response. 

“They weren’t outwardly hostile with you. They were more willing to tell you things—however confusing—than they’d ever be with me. With a little help, I think you would be able to get somewhere with them.” 

Harvey takes a step backwards as he examines Batman. He’s fully skeptical of whatever the Bat is leading up to right now. “...What are you suggesting?” he grinds out unhappily. 

“I’m suggesting we work together,” Batman says plainly. “With your proximity to the other Rogues and being unaffected by whatever is happening to them, you could be an asset to stopping what is going on in Gotham.” 

Harvey snorts. “Oh, so it’s all, ‘I’m taking you to jail, Harv’!’, until I’m useful, right? Now we’re gonna be all buddy-buddy? What happened to not trusting me, Bats?” 

Batman considers lying and saying he could come to trust Harvey, but that’s just not true anymore. 

“I don’t trust you, Harvey, but we both want to fix what’s happening in Gotham. We both need an ally we can rely on.” 

Harvey whips his head to the side and glares down into the crime scene. Despite how annoyed he is, he seems like he’s actually mulling it over in his head. But what he finally decides isn’t what Batman wants to hear. 

“No. I can’t work with someone who doesn’t trust me.” 

“Harvey,” Batman sighs out. 

“No, Batman!” Harvey throws his arms out, gesturing to the both of them. “This isn’t going to work out! We’re Batman and Two-Face—Rogues don’t work with their captor! They’ll know something is up if I go sniffing around on your orders. They already don’t trust me enough to let me in on whatever plan they’ve got going on!” 

Batman’s shoulders slump. Harvey’s right, unfortunately. 

“It’s not going to work, Batman. We’re on our own.” 

Harvey turns and begins to stalk back the way he came. Batman reaches out a hand after Harvey, but whatever he’s going to say to try and plead with him dies in his throat before he can get it out. Before he knows it, Harvey’s gone, and Batman’s alone with the scene of a missing woman and even less hope than he had before. 

Their conversation continues to ring in his head even as he ventures back to the Batcave. 

Alfred is surprised when he arrives at the manor so early, then becomes far less surprised when Batman brushes past him to head down to the Cave. The purse is unhooked from his belt as he hurries down the steps, the shoe pulled from its stomach as the Batcomputer lights up with his arrival. 

He doesn’t need the purse, so he sets that aside on his desk. He’s decided that the easiest way to go about things is to test the DNA on the shoe against the databases he has access to in order to find out who this woman was and if she fits the theme of the kidnappings. Batman has a pretty good idea she will, but finding out who is the most important thing. He wants to put a face to her so he knows who to look out for in the future, just like all of the other faces he’s collecting in his case file. 

He scrapes the inside of the shoe with a cotton swab. He’s hoping that there’s at least a trace of something in here so he doesn’t need to search the purse for fingerprints or strands of hair. Once he’s thoroughly swabbed the shoe, he moves over to another side of his desk, where his testing equipment lies in disorganized piles. Alfred has been begging him to let him reorganize it, but Batman’s already got everything sorted in place in his mind. Reorganizing it will just mess up his system. 

He collects a vial of extraction fluid and drops the cotton swab inside of it, sealing it with a rubber stopper and venturing back to the Batcomputer. There’s a little place to slot the vial into in the Computer’s massive command center, so Batman does, and it sucks it down with the whirr of machinery. It takes a little while for the data and DNA to be collected by the Computer, but it’s far faster than any laboratory could do it. It’s courtesy of one Lucius Fox, who thought it a crime that he didn’t have an easy way to analyze DNA as a part of his system. A lot of the things he’s gained are because of Lucius’ surprise at him not having it in the first place. 

Batman supposes that he should be taking advantage of his wealth, but it’s something he hardly thinks about, being out on the streets every night like this. It makes him feel like he’s a part of Gotham, rather than one of her overlords. 

The Batcomputer pops up with its results with a chime. Batman quickly becomes distressed when he sees the face of the woman on the screen. 

It’s the woman from the Docks, the one he walked home just the other night. Had Firefly and Zeus gotten to her after all? 

Her name is Ellie-May Holt, and from every record that the Computer brings up, she’s a nobody. 

She works as a cleaner at a local hotel, her parents are nobody of wealth or of note—she doesn’t even have a smidge of a criminal record. No notable partners or connections to the mob that the Computer can find. 

But she’s blonde and thin, and maybe that was enough for whoever took her. 

Batman finally decides that this isn’t something he can pursue alone. Rejections aside, he needs help to figure out how the Rogues and these kidnappings connect. He needs someone who’s closer to the inside than he could ever be. 

He needs Harvey Dent. 

And he knows just where to find him. 

He’s been hiding a secret from Harvey since the man lost half his face. After the incident, and after Harvey had emerged as Two-Face from the sewers, he’d abandoned the place he formerly lived. He knew people would come for him there, and he’d assumed it’d make him less likely to be found by the Bat. 

Harvey was wrong. 

Because Batman knew where Harvey currently lived. He tried to keep tabs on where all the Rogue’s typical haunts were, just in case he needed to find them. He preferred to catch criminals in the act of a crime rather than when they were hiding out at home, but the knowledge came in handy in scenarios like this—where he simply needed to talk to Harvey. 

And now he was certainly glad he’d never busted into Harvey’s place before this. 

Harvey was home—he knew because he’d followed him back there and watched him disappear behind his door before he approached. Harvey lived in a ratty apartment in the Narrows, and though he’d gotten better locks for his door than most in the complex had, it didn’t hold up to a determined Batman. He easily picked the lock using one of the talons on his glove. 

It was dark when he slipped inside the apartment. He used the shadows to his advantage, slipping inside of them and perking his ears to listen for any movement. Batman heard shuffling coming from the other man’s bedroom—-Harvey must be getting ready for bed. He shrinks back into the darkness when he spots movement from the door of Harvey’s room. The other man emerges a second later, half-undressed and heading for the kitchen. 

Batman has the option to catch his attention immediately, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a moment to watch his former best friend. It’s been too long since Bruce has been able to gaze upon him without being at the business end of his gun or his hatred. Enclosed in domesticity as he is right now, it’s almost peaceful. Like Bruce belongs there. 

He steps out of the shadows before he can get too used to that idea. 

“Harvey,” Batman announces his presence quietly. 

Harvey shrieks. 

The glass of water in his hand goes flying in Batman’s direction, and he dodges it quick enough that it just shatters against the wall next to his head. Harvey whips towards him and glares with a mixture of fear and anger. He groans when he realizes who’s in his living room. 

“Batman,” he greets exasperatedly. His hand presses against his face and rubs the space between his brows like he’s suddenly gotten a headache. 

“I know who the kidnapped woman was.” 

Harvey merely lowers his hand to glare up at Batman through his fingers. 

“Her name was Ellie-May Holt. She’s a maid for a hotel in the Diamond District.” 

Harvey sighs. “Any mob connections?” 

“No.” 

“Any criminal record?” 

“No.” 

“...Anything notable at all?” 

“...No.” 

“Okay, so you know who she is, but you have absolutely nothing else? What have we accomplished? Why are you in my apartment?” Harvey flings his arms out, gesturing to the room around them. 

“I know she was a blonde woman. Exactly like all of the others. And she was being pursued by Firefly and Maxie Zeus down by the Docks just a day ago.” 

This has Harvey perking up in a bit of interest. “What were those two doing chasing after her? You think it might be connected?” 

Batman shakes his head. “No, that’s not how this is going to work.” 

“...What?” 

“You’re not going to ask me for information for your own investigation, Harvey. I’m not going to volunteer anything else unless you agree to work with me.” 

Harvey blinks in disbelief. “I already said no to that, Bats. If you came here just to convince me, then you’re welcome to leave.” 

“You’re a good man, Harvey,” Batman brushes over him. “I know you are. You’ve always wanted to help Gotham, even after the campaign. Even now, when you could have been across the country, terrorizing another city.” 

At that, he earns a chuckle out of the Rogue. Harvey’s averting his eyes, and Batman knows he’s got him hooked. Just need to reel him in. 

“Gotham is our home, Harvey. We need to do everything we can to save it, even if that means working together.” 

Harvey breathes out a pained breath. It’s obvious it’s not what he wants, but the fact he’s hesitating means that Batman’s gotten to him. He knew that Harvey’s love for Gotham ran deep—it’s what connected them, back in their childhood. Believing their home could be a better place. 

Harvey’s mismatched eyes look up at him wearily. They’re still filled with skepticism, but the line of his jaw has hardened. 

“This doesn’t make us friends, Batman. At the end of the day, when we come out of this, we’re always going to be enemies.” 

“I know, Harvey.” 

“...So where do we start?”