Harvey/Rachel, "Tethers"
Title: Tethers
Fandom: Batman (Nolan films) The Dark Knight
Rating: PG-13 for some language, a few F’bombs, but it’s mostly clean.
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Rachel, Rachel/Harvey.
Summary: Tethers between the hearts are a fragile thing. Rachel Dawes meets the new DA in a one-on-one basis while reminiscing about the last time she spoke to Bruce.
Notes: With the new trailer we have all the characters introduced (Scary Joker, Stoic Bruce, Humorous Alfred, Serious Rachel, and sympathetic Harvey Dent) which of course requires trailer.
Now honestly? If I were Christopher Nolan? I’d be looking at this and saying “LOVE TRIANGLE” because there’s always a love triangle. In the long Halloween it was a…person triangle between Gordon, dent, and Batman In this case, I think one of the driving factors behind the Bat this time will be a love triangle (especially if the “I’m dating Harvey Dent” scenes are apparently accurate) weather Rachel’s doing this to make Bruce go, “OMG I CANNOT BE BATMANS I HAVE A WOMANS I NEED TO SMEX” or because she’s genuinely interested in Harvey-chances are Two-Face is gonna be a means to an end. Eckhart himself has hinted at this. “YOU WON’T LOVE ME, THAT’S FINE, I’LL BE UGLY ALL BY MYSELF AND SCREW YOU BOTH!”
Which is, y’know sympathetic. AWW HARVEY. WE STILL LOVE YOU.
Rachel Dawes had worked for Gotham City since graduating law school. There’d been no turn in the private sector-no internship. She knew the halls of the Gotham City courthouse as well as she knew the backs of her hands, the veins of her body-every line, every turn, every twist-
“Looking for someone?”
She swallowed-flustered. Two days ago she’d been clapping with the rest of the peons as the new DA had ascended the steps and sworn his oath with the final election results in every eye. Believing in Harvey Dent was something that Gotham was more then ready to do-with the Batman protecting their streets and now law stepping up to the task that the masked vigilante had undertaken…
He’d saved them. They wanted someone to continue his work in the light of day Oh Bruce…
It should be Bruce and not the thing that he’d become, was becoming. They hadn’t spoken since-since-
“Rachel.”
Rachel Dawes had worked for Gotham since graduating-she felt like she’d grown up with her colleague-sweaty thin Winston Brenner. He’d been the assistant to the previous DA, a position he’d lost when District Attorney Dent came along. Apparently, Harvey Dent worked alone.
Winston was still staring at her, bulging eyes blinking, “…Rachel, who are you looking-”
“The DA!” It came back to her in a flash, lost amid the musings about her current job, her position, “…District Attorney Dent.”
Winston jerked a thumb in the direction he’d come, “Basement.”
Rachel blinked, aghast, “Why on earth would he be down there?”
“…That’s where his office was Dawes.” That’s where they keep the rest of us without Rich boyfriends who make the Courthouse look good on camera, showing up to fancy gallery openings, “He’s still moving shit around somewhere.”
It was hard to imagine a man like Harvey Dent, (well, with what little she knew about him) in a basement of all places, “…Why?”
“Go ask him.” Winston sounded annoyed, “I’m off the clock. Guy’s down there billing the city for hours…”
His rant faded into the distance. Rachel had a reason for seeking out her new boss besides simple curiosity. She gripped her caseload tighter-homicides were notoriously difficult to prosecute-and the numbers had been climbing. She wanted permission to pull someone from white-collar crimes (or perhaps SVU-but they were loaded down too…)
Advice was always difficult to ask for, especially when you had to travel down to the basement to get it.
Gotham was old city-parts of the courthouse were falling into decay and disrepair. The eerie feeling creeping up her spine as the light flickered overhead didn’t help matters. She could only imagine what was lurking down here in the depths, stirring in the shadows behind boxes of forgotten files, stacks of ancient paper that would crumble to dust with a touch.
She half expected Bruce to appear out of nowhere, lord knew how far that bat cave of his went.
----
They are standing in the Bat cave-at the edge of the world that he had created for himself. She’d never realized even standing in his parent’s kitchen all those years ago how deep his parent’s death had scarred him.
Could she blame him? Her parents were alive-doting and alive. Martha and Thomas Wayne were dead and buried and had been for so very long…
“…Bruce-I-“
There’d been a fire last night. Batman had swooped in at the last moment to pull children from the blaze, flying out at the last second-a shadow against the son. She is aware how much he is sharing with her-especially here-a place any number of people would give their left arm, right eye, and most vital and sacred parts to be in. She has to tell him how terrified she was.
“…Rachel.”
----
The sign on the door read “Harvey Dent” in black fading letters. This was Gotham’s District Attorney, hiding behind peeling paint and flaking wood.
Rachel’s hand raised above the door, curling into a fist and striking the surface once-only once.
“It’s open Winston.”
Something vaguely musical was coming from inside. Rachel opened the door a crack, pushing it open wider when she caught a glimpse of a desk-seemingly surrounded by books and paperwork. The only light in the room came from a reading lamp perched precariously atop a stack of what looked like back issues of the Gotham University Law Review and a computer screen.
“Just set the boxes over there.” The man waved a hand absently at a chair-alone and forgotten in the corner. Apart from the alcove built of paper and books the rest of the office was reasonably tidy. Or at least Rachel thought as tidy as a hole in the ground can be.
Holes made her think of hobbits and her mind (doing what human minds do in times of duress) connected hobbits to books, comparing her new boss to a short stubby fictional character.
She laughed aloud.
That startled the figure at the computer-music shutting off abruptly as Harvey Dent stood up-nearly falling out of his chair in the process. The two blinked at each other, Rachel hiding a nervous grin as Harvey Dent-District Attorney for Gotham City (One of the Largest Cities in the United States) stared at her, “…You’re not Winston.”
“…No. I saw him upstairs about an hour ago.” She noted with distaste her employer’s (as of two days ago! Just two!) Undone tie and untucked shirt, “…You’re…a…”
“I’m off the clock.” He waved a dismissive hand, “…A testament to the fact that I live my life for the people of Gotham City.” He waved a hand at his books, “…What can I do for you miss…”
“Dawes.” She offered him a hand and remembered ruefully how she’d introduced herself during the “Congratulatory Party” held after the election results had been tabulated, “Rachel Dawes?”
---
He is holding her close, breathing in her scent and Rachel can’t take it anymore. She pushes him away-the lines between them grow taught, “…You were almost hurt.”
Bruce hesitates. The Bat Man cannot be human, cannot be fallible. He must be invincible, untraceable but she sees the way his arm pained him. Alfred was a wreck, shaking his head and cursing “That poor foolish boy” with every breath in his body.
“Those kids are all right.”
“…I’m not all right! I saw-“ It was so unfair of him to do this, “Bruce, My heart was in my throat the whole damn time you were out there!”
“I was doing the right thing.”
This is the problem with superheroes. To the select few who rise above the ordinary human scope of taking care of themselves, the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few, themselves. Bruce saw himself doing good-he did not see that every swing was a tug on the rope that tethered their hearts together.
“Remember falling?” Rachel throws him off her now.
“…During the fire?”
“As a kid. When you fell-here-this place-“ She shakes her head, “…It felt like-like-like I broke something in me too.”
He closes his eyes, “I have to do this.”
“Who says you have to do anything? Things are better now, you have your vengeance-you made Gotham City a better place…we can help you now! Batman doesn’t have to do it alone!”
----
“…Alone.”
Rachel was reliving her past like flipping through a comic book, she jerked out of her revere when he spoke, “…I’m sorry, you completely lost me.”
Harvey Dent was scratching his head, “…I said not many people like to trek down to the cave alone.”
She flinched at the word cave, “Why call it that?”
Dent looked at her, nonplussed, “Because that’s what it is? Low paid civil servants get little hidey-holes to retreat to like lemmings after trying to take down the big predators. I’m glad I get to leave…” He cast his gaze back to his office, “I’m going to miss it though.”
She wrinkled her nose, “Why?”
He shrugged, “There’s a certain attraction to going it alone but in the end you can’t do it without help. Admittedly I didn’t expect it to come from a promotion from basement to level three. That’s like dying and finding out you’re going to be living directly with god instead of among the angels.”
The corner of her mouth tilted upwards in a smile as she pictured the metaphor, “I wouldn’t know. I’m on the second floor.”
“With the angels. Easy to see why.”
The remark was thrown away so nonchalantly Rachel almost didn’t catch it, “…Excuse me?”
“…Dawes. No, now I remember.” Dent looked like he’d seen a light at the end of the tunnel, “People V. Norman Colan.” He stepped back into his office, “I’ve got that one somewhere here…”
Norman Colan was a petty thief she’d prosecuted a lifetime ago, “…. That was-god-years ago…”
“But it set an evidentiary standard in how personal effects were to be used in cases.” Dent unearthed a file triumphantly only to have the stack collapse, papers sliding across the floor, “…Aww shit….”
Rachel winced, “Let me help you-“
“No. No don’t.” His voice was firm; “I’ve got a system for this.”
The sudden rebuke was shocking-but the once dusty (yet clean) office was littered with paper. She stepped back as he grabbed a file out from near her foot, watching him work. Methodical, precise in his movements. It did seem that everything had its proper place and proper order. Watching the tall man scramble about the floor was like watching something out of a sitcom however-and-
He stopped short, sighing, “…Fuck it.”
“Loose your train of thought?”
“Train of thought is just fine thank you.” His tone was sharp now. She frowned as he put his head in his hands, “…Okay-maybe not so fine.”
“I’m still here and kind of sort of obligated to do what you tell me.” Rachel sat. She set her own stack down on the floor, “I mean-you are my boss.”
“Is that why you’re here?” The sharper tone was more evident now, “You want something?”
Puzzlement gave way to annoyance, “Yeah. To do good law. Gordon left me with a stack of cases the size of the phonebook to go through-I need help-according to the docket I’m in six places tomorrow-six-and I can’t be in six places because I’m not some kind of superhuman and my boss is down in the basement playing with paper!”
Silence filled the room where the two people were sitting. Rachel was tired and overworked and pausing to party for this rude (because that’s what he was-RUDE) imbecile hadn’t been on her schedule of things to do.
-----
“Batman has to do it alone.”
“So what. I stand here and wait?” Rachel Dawes is not good at waiting, she never has been, “I wait like I waited when you came back, I wait like I have done-all the time?”
“You’re asking me to put you ahead of the lives of everyone in this city Rachel?”
“That’s what people who love each other do Bruce.” Rachel grabbed her purse, “That’s what people who care about other people do.”
“You would be that selfish?”
“Will you listen to yourself?” Rachel exploded, “You don’t sound like anything human anymore, you are allowed to be weak-to admit that you’re not some kind of-of-“
“Savior?”
A dozen lines from a dozen songs worked its way through her head, “…No one should have to bear that burden alone but I can’t do this all by myself. Reach out to me-give me something!”
“Something. What kind of something?”
“Tell me you love me!”
The words are sudden and intense.
“Just that. Tell me that and I’ll believe you.”
----------
“Dawes? Dawes? …Rachel?” Harvey Dent was staring at her, inches away from her face, “Are you all right?”
Rachel closed her eyes, “I’m fine.”
“That’s the second time you’ve spaced out on me.” He withdrew, studying her like a child in a schoolyard game, “Have you eaten today?”
Lunch was an apple and a salad at least five-six hours ago. She nodded mutely, “At lunchtime.”
“Okay.” Harvey breathed deep, “…Okay. How about…how about we start over?”
She wondered if her mouth would get lines, frowning this much, “I don’t follow you.”
“Well, you apparently think I’m a jerk or some sort of strange pervert living in the basement…” His voice trailed off, “And I shouldn’t have been so…quick to assume that you came down here only to pester me for a different office or a new raise or something that I don’t have the power to give you.”
Something unsaid in his tone bothers her, but she lets it slide.
“So we’ll start over again.” He offered her a hand, “Hi. I’m Harvey Dent. Please don’t call me District Attorney Dent, or “Boss”. Every time somebody calls me that I feel like my stomach’s going to jump out my mouth and dance.”
The colorful metaphor made her smile, “…Rachel.”
The two shook hands as District Attorney Dent (No, Harvey! Or just Dent? They might have to work on this) clapped his hands on his thighs, “…This. Is a mess.”
She laughed again, “…Yes.”
“…What say, you and I go and get something to eat?” He must have sensed her upcoming objection, “…I don’t work well in messy conditions.”
“Wouldn’t have thought that by your desk.”
“I like to have everything close at hand.”
“It looks like you have half the law library down here.” Rachel said, amused, “Not to mention collecting old cases.”
“I collect cases that interest me. It’s my version of baseball cards.” He scooped a ream of paper of the floor and pointed at her desk, “Is that your docket?”
Her docket resting mournfully on the chair that seemed grateful to have something occupying its seat. She nodded.
“…My next question is, do you like Italian?”
-----
“Rachel, you know I love you but…”
“No. No buts. Look me in the eye and tell me there is only me. That some day when this is all over the man I love will come back. I have to believe that.”
His slump told her volumes, the sag of his body, his closed eyes. The tether between them pulled tighter-a hand gripping her chest and squeezing-always squeezing.
----
-----
Mamma Cella’s turned out to be a hole in a wall between a pawn shop and a hotel-a family owned and operated kitchen that exuded aroma and warmth up and down the street.
“I must have driven past this place a dozen times and never seen it.” They’d been greeted by Mamma Cella, a wide Italian woman who could have made two of Harvey and three of Rachel offering family style hugs and kisses to them both before showing them to a table. Their waiter was her son, polished and polite. It was charming, “I didn’t know places like this still existed in Gotham.”
“They’re small.” Harvey’d ordered Pasta Primavera with some sort of seafood, “A lot of the big Italian places-Roman’s, the Godfather’s-the crime families are the ones providing the old world atmosphere.”
Rachel swallowed, “…Horse heads in the soup, that kind of thing?”
Harvey flinched, “…I don’t joke about things like that.”
A chill wind wrapped around them both as Rachel set down her fork, “…I’ve noticed that. People V. Soprano, People V. Figaro-you push for harsher penalties when you think the mob’s concerned.”
Her boss said nothing. The wind deepened, darkened.
---------------
She stands up straight, gaze firm-meeting his eyes, “He really is dead then. Bruce Wayne.”
When Bruce looks at her Batman stares back and she shakes her head, “If you see him again-if you ever see him again. You tell him Batman-you tell him that some part of me will always wait. For the part he killed-the part you killed in him to come back. How long-before the protector becomes a criminal? Before the vigilante ends like all the heroes end?”
He doesn’t reply as she runs-out the door to her car-speeding out of the Wayne Manor drive way and vowing that no matter what-lest it was the funeral for the man she loved-she’d never return.
---
“…You read my brochure.”
She tried to recall it, something patriotic looking with that vaguely ominous slogan. Harvey scraped the last of the seafood off his plate onto his fork, not meeting her gaze.
“…My dad worked in the Gotham City shipyards. Didn’t get to go to college. Real hardass about it too.” His gaze turned glassy for an instant; looking at something only he could see-before he returned to the dish, “Mentions that right?”
Rachel didn’t like where this was going, “…Yeah…”
“Working in the Shipyards means that in addition to working for companies you work for the people who control the companies.”
He didn’t have to say their names. Rachel saw dancing visions of fat men with bad Hollywood accents, Armani suits, and an elegant old world solution to the problem of “business competition”
“My dad was a foreman-meant he took a lot more flack from the company men then the other guys. He tried to do what was right-stand up to the company. When one guy wanted to buy them out he said no-said he wasn’t going to give up his health plan-become some stooge for them.”
“See, Rachel-they don’t come after you. That’s what’s wrong with Gotham. They don’t come after the people that they try to hurt. They want you to suffer, to be dead inside before they actually kill you. That’s why people isolate themselves in this business-in law, in order, in everything. Have no connections, no friends, and nobody can hurt you.”
She winced, hoping that her boss didn’t see, “…Your dad?”
-------
“…My dad had…has…some problems.” Harvey Dent’s voice turned flat, dark and lifeless, “Because one day he came home to find my mother beaten senseless on our living room rug. She was paralyzed from the neck down and died two weeks afterwards. He-“
“You don’t have to tell me.” She hoped he wouldn’t, she prayed he wouldn’t, “…Please.”
Harvey looked startled, shaken-she frowned again-it was like he wasn’t even there, “…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said-there’s a reason why they say “traumatic childhood” in the brochure.”
“…Doesn’t make for good dinner conversation.”
“…I usually eat by myself. Gives me time to brood.”
“ A friendly piece of advice?” Rachel smirked, “Girls? Not so much with the brooding.”
“Probably why I’m single.” Harvey said with a laugh. The two faked it through the end of their humor before staring at each other again-attention on their plates.
Rachel set her fork down, the suspense killing her, “…I’m going to go nuts if you don’t tell me.”
A person passed by them on her way to the hotel. She watched them warily before staring up at a camera hidden above the hotel door. There was a buzz and she entered, tugging her headphones out of her ears and stealing one last glance at them.
“My adoring public.” He blinked, “Tell you what?”
“…What happened.”?
Silence hung between them again.
“…My father went insane.”
He spoke so blankly, so nonchalantly that she found herself worried for a moment. Harvey closed his eyes, “…Like I said, he wasn’t the most stable guy anyway. Never was. But finding my mother that way…set him off. He’s in a facility upstate.”
“…I’m sorry.” And she was sorry, sorry and thankful that she out of all the children of Gotham had apparently escaped the city’s curse unscathed, “I’m so sorry.”
“…It happened. It just-it drove me through college. It wanted to get the guys who’d done it. I got my chance when I graduated Suma cum Laude at Harvard.” He paused, hoping for some small gasp of amazement, some small turn of her mouth back into a smile.
“…Your chance?’
“We prosecuted them. Minor branch of the Falcone family. Family set them up the river. I’d like-“
He hesitated, “I’d like to get them all. I know the guy’s orders came from higher up-if we could get them all-this would be over. “ He sighed, “The longest reason ever for doing what I do.”
“It’s a good reason. You want it to be over?” Rachel pushed a few stray bits of basil around her plate, the lights around them growing brighter as night loomed.
He looked at her, aghast, “Why wouldn’t I? Look.” He leaned in close, resting his elbows at the edge of the table, “How many other kids are out there like me? It won’t cure the world but it’ll sure as hell start it on its way to recovery. I don’t-“ He shook his head, “I don’t want anyone to see the things I’ve seen. The simplest way to do that is to make people believe again.”
“Believe in what?” She expected a campaign speech, another slogan from his successful bid for the position he now held, “Gotham?”
He laughed, “No. The system. Because the system works. It’s gotten bad, but Batman-batman was a step in the right direction. Drastic yes-“
She had gone cold all over, wondering what Bruce was doing now-wondering if some case would come across her second-floor desk with the tagline “Batman?” on the cover in big bold letters.
“…But sometimes people need a show. Batman’s the main attraction-its time for the rest of us to step up and make this the biggest show the city’s ever seen. I can only imagine what that guy-whoever he is-must go through. He needs a chance to put down the cape. Believe that we as a people can make Gotham safe again. He taught us how to believe. Hell, he taught me how to believe again. He’s the reason I decided to run.”
Rachel swallowed nervously, “Batman?”
“Oh yeah. Hell yeah. I mean-dressing up in a costume and kicking ass and taking names? It was like something out of a movie or a comic book. It reminded me-slogging down in the basement. I’d become that which I’d hated- a cog in the machine, keeping the car running. Time to take it in for a tune-up, time to check the breaks. I mean despite the Batman? …Men make heroics. And we need to get people believing in us again. Men, not…bat…men.”
He sighed, checking his watch, “…and I…am talking like a university professor. It’s really late-do you want desert?”
She shook her head no as he waved away her money, “This one’s on me.”
When the waiter returned apologetically with his card to say it had been declined, Rachel chuckled at the blush across his face-putting her hand on his again to quell the sudden outburst, “…You haven’t gotten your first big DA paycheck.”
“There goes my big attempt at impressing you.” He stood up, “…I-“
“I’m easily impressed.” Rachel dropped some of her own money on the card, “A guy admitting that he’s short is a lot more impressive then a lot of macho bravado.”
“Wow.”
She shrugged into her coat, “Wow what?”
“…Wow, I think you’re the first person I’ve heard use Bravado outside of a literature geek.” He smiled and Rachel felt herself swoon, he was good looking.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile this evening.” She said, “…Definitely better then brooding.
---
He insisted on walking her home, or at least to the train. The tram had been rebuilt after the accident, but riding it again gave Rachel a queasy feeling she did not want to share or repeat.
The two of them stood on the platform, Rachel staring at the city below her, “…You know-in all that talking that we forgot this.”
She held up her files as Harvey lowered his head, “…God I’m sorry-I’m so sorry…Look, how about I make some changes-you won’t have to be in six places tomorrow. You-you pick where you want to go and I’ll ah-I’ll fill in.” The incoming administration was having difficulty as it was, Rachel hesitated-staring at her boss. What he was suggesting would require enough paperwork to float city hall and then some, “Sir?”
“Harvey. Or Dent.” He grinned at her, “You don’t want to see insides on the outside trust me. I took a pre-med class once as a joke-nearly threw up twice.”
“Harvey…” His blond hair was blowing in the wind, chiseled features worn with sleep. He looked happy to see her and-above all things human-something she’d forgotten men could be,” I-I could help you-“
“Nah.” He waved a hand, “I can promise you that you won’t be in six places tomorrow. Probably five or four-but six? Definitely not.”
She grinned despite herself, wrapping her arms around her torso, “…Thanks.”
The train was rumbling down the track lights coming out of the darkness like a creature of the night.
“…Of course-you could make it up to me-all the hard work I’m about to go back to the office and do.”
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Dinner.” His face was firm, “…Tomorrow night. I know lots of little hidey-hole restaurants for us public service lemmings to visit. You like Thai?”
She thought of Bruce.
Bruce in his mansion, Bruce in his cave, Bruce who was so lost to her that he thought this would never be over. She needed an end, to believe that they could accomplish something. The wind blew her hair. She’d worked at Gotham City hall for ages-but never gotten friendly with any of her coworkers.
“…Tomorrow.”
She was surprised at her smile, “…Six.”
The door opened for her as her boss’s grin widened. (God, he really was good looking wasn’t he?) “…It’s a date.”
The tether between her heart and the heart of the man she loved snapped as the door closed and the train roared through the night.
Fandom: Batman (Nolan films) The Dark Knight
Rating: PG-13 for some language, a few F’bombs, but it’s mostly clean.
Characters/Pairings: Bruce/Rachel, Rachel/Harvey.
Summary: Tethers between the hearts are a fragile thing. Rachel Dawes meets the new DA in a one-on-one basis while reminiscing about the last time she spoke to Bruce.
Notes: With the new trailer we have all the characters introduced (Scary Joker, Stoic Bruce, Humorous Alfred, Serious Rachel, and sympathetic Harvey Dent) which of course requires trailer.
Now honestly? If I were Christopher Nolan? I’d be looking at this and saying “LOVE TRIANGLE” because there’s always a love triangle. In the long Halloween it was a…person triangle between Gordon, dent, and Batman In this case, I think one of the driving factors behind the Bat this time will be a love triangle (especially if the “I’m dating Harvey Dent” scenes are apparently accurate) weather Rachel’s doing this to make Bruce go, “OMG I CANNOT BE BATMANS I HAVE A WOMANS I NEED TO SMEX” or because she’s genuinely interested in Harvey-chances are Two-Face is gonna be a means to an end. Eckhart himself has hinted at this. “YOU WON’T LOVE ME, THAT’S FINE, I’LL BE UGLY ALL BY MYSELF AND SCREW YOU BOTH!”
Which is, y’know sympathetic. AWW HARVEY. WE STILL LOVE YOU.
Rachel Dawes had worked for Gotham City since graduating law school. There’d been no turn in the private sector-no internship. She knew the halls of the Gotham City courthouse as well as she knew the backs of her hands, the veins of her body-every line, every turn, every twist-
“Looking for someone?”
She swallowed-flustered. Two days ago she’d been clapping with the rest of the peons as the new DA had ascended the steps and sworn his oath with the final election results in every eye. Believing in Harvey Dent was something that Gotham was more then ready to do-with the Batman protecting their streets and now law stepping up to the task that the masked vigilante had undertaken…
He’d saved them. They wanted someone to continue his work in the light of day Oh Bruce…
It should be Bruce and not the thing that he’d become, was becoming. They hadn’t spoken since-since-
“Rachel.”
Rachel Dawes had worked for Gotham since graduating-she felt like she’d grown up with her colleague-sweaty thin Winston Brenner. He’d been the assistant to the previous DA, a position he’d lost when District Attorney Dent came along. Apparently, Harvey Dent worked alone.
Winston was still staring at her, bulging eyes blinking, “…Rachel, who are you looking-”
“The DA!” It came back to her in a flash, lost amid the musings about her current job, her position, “…District Attorney Dent.”
Winston jerked a thumb in the direction he’d come, “Basement.”
Rachel blinked, aghast, “Why on earth would he be down there?”
“…That’s where his office was Dawes.” That’s where they keep the rest of us without Rich boyfriends who make the Courthouse look good on camera, showing up to fancy gallery openings, “He’s still moving shit around somewhere.”
It was hard to imagine a man like Harvey Dent, (well, with what little she knew about him) in a basement of all places, “…Why?”
“Go ask him.” Winston sounded annoyed, “I’m off the clock. Guy’s down there billing the city for hours…”
His rant faded into the distance. Rachel had a reason for seeking out her new boss besides simple curiosity. She gripped her caseload tighter-homicides were notoriously difficult to prosecute-and the numbers had been climbing. She wanted permission to pull someone from white-collar crimes (or perhaps SVU-but they were loaded down too…)
Advice was always difficult to ask for, especially when you had to travel down to the basement to get it.
Gotham was old city-parts of the courthouse were falling into decay and disrepair. The eerie feeling creeping up her spine as the light flickered overhead didn’t help matters. She could only imagine what was lurking down here in the depths, stirring in the shadows behind boxes of forgotten files, stacks of ancient paper that would crumble to dust with a touch.
She half expected Bruce to appear out of nowhere, lord knew how far that bat cave of his went.
----
They are standing in the Bat cave-at the edge of the world that he had created for himself. She’d never realized even standing in his parent’s kitchen all those years ago how deep his parent’s death had scarred him.
Could she blame him? Her parents were alive-doting and alive. Martha and Thomas Wayne were dead and buried and had been for so very long…
“…Bruce-I-“
There’d been a fire last night. Batman had swooped in at the last moment to pull children from the blaze, flying out at the last second-a shadow against the son. She is aware how much he is sharing with her-especially here-a place any number of people would give their left arm, right eye, and most vital and sacred parts to be in. She has to tell him how terrified she was.
“…Rachel.”
----
The sign on the door read “Harvey Dent” in black fading letters. This was Gotham’s District Attorney, hiding behind peeling paint and flaking wood.
Rachel’s hand raised above the door, curling into a fist and striking the surface once-only once.
“It’s open Winston.”
Something vaguely musical was coming from inside. Rachel opened the door a crack, pushing it open wider when she caught a glimpse of a desk-seemingly surrounded by books and paperwork. The only light in the room came from a reading lamp perched precariously atop a stack of what looked like back issues of the Gotham University Law Review and a computer screen.
“Just set the boxes over there.” The man waved a hand absently at a chair-alone and forgotten in the corner. Apart from the alcove built of paper and books the rest of the office was reasonably tidy. Or at least Rachel thought as tidy as a hole in the ground can be.
Holes made her think of hobbits and her mind (doing what human minds do in times of duress) connected hobbits to books, comparing her new boss to a short stubby fictional character.
She laughed aloud.
That startled the figure at the computer-music shutting off abruptly as Harvey Dent stood up-nearly falling out of his chair in the process. The two blinked at each other, Rachel hiding a nervous grin as Harvey Dent-District Attorney for Gotham City (One of the Largest Cities in the United States) stared at her, “…You’re not Winston.”
“…No. I saw him upstairs about an hour ago.” She noted with distaste her employer’s (as of two days ago! Just two!) Undone tie and untucked shirt, “…You’re…a…”
“I’m off the clock.” He waved a dismissive hand, “…A testament to the fact that I live my life for the people of Gotham City.” He waved a hand at his books, “…What can I do for you miss…”
“Dawes.” She offered him a hand and remembered ruefully how she’d introduced herself during the “Congratulatory Party” held after the election results had been tabulated, “Rachel Dawes?”
---
He is holding her close, breathing in her scent and Rachel can’t take it anymore. She pushes him away-the lines between them grow taught, “…You were almost hurt.”
Bruce hesitates. The Bat Man cannot be human, cannot be fallible. He must be invincible, untraceable but she sees the way his arm pained him. Alfred was a wreck, shaking his head and cursing “That poor foolish boy” with every breath in his body.
“Those kids are all right.”
“…I’m not all right! I saw-“ It was so unfair of him to do this, “Bruce, My heart was in my throat the whole damn time you were out there!”
“I was doing the right thing.”
This is the problem with superheroes. To the select few who rise above the ordinary human scope of taking care of themselves, the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few, themselves. Bruce saw himself doing good-he did not see that every swing was a tug on the rope that tethered their hearts together.
“Remember falling?” Rachel throws him off her now.
“…During the fire?”
“As a kid. When you fell-here-this place-“ She shakes her head, “…It felt like-like-like I broke something in me too.”
He closes his eyes, “I have to do this.”
“Who says you have to do anything? Things are better now, you have your vengeance-you made Gotham City a better place…we can help you now! Batman doesn’t have to do it alone!”
----
“…Alone.”
Rachel was reliving her past like flipping through a comic book, she jerked out of her revere when he spoke, “…I’m sorry, you completely lost me.”
Harvey Dent was scratching his head, “…I said not many people like to trek down to the cave alone.”
She flinched at the word cave, “Why call it that?”
Dent looked at her, nonplussed, “Because that’s what it is? Low paid civil servants get little hidey-holes to retreat to like lemmings after trying to take down the big predators. I’m glad I get to leave…” He cast his gaze back to his office, “I’m going to miss it though.”
She wrinkled her nose, “Why?”
He shrugged, “There’s a certain attraction to going it alone but in the end you can’t do it without help. Admittedly I didn’t expect it to come from a promotion from basement to level three. That’s like dying and finding out you’re going to be living directly with god instead of among the angels.”
The corner of her mouth tilted upwards in a smile as she pictured the metaphor, “I wouldn’t know. I’m on the second floor.”
“With the angels. Easy to see why.”
The remark was thrown away so nonchalantly Rachel almost didn’t catch it, “…Excuse me?”
“…Dawes. No, now I remember.” Dent looked like he’d seen a light at the end of the tunnel, “People V. Norman Colan.” He stepped back into his office, “I’ve got that one somewhere here…”
Norman Colan was a petty thief she’d prosecuted a lifetime ago, “…. That was-god-years ago…”
“But it set an evidentiary standard in how personal effects were to be used in cases.” Dent unearthed a file triumphantly only to have the stack collapse, papers sliding across the floor, “…Aww shit….”
Rachel winced, “Let me help you-“
“No. No don’t.” His voice was firm; “I’ve got a system for this.”
The sudden rebuke was shocking-but the once dusty (yet clean) office was littered with paper. She stepped back as he grabbed a file out from near her foot, watching him work. Methodical, precise in his movements. It did seem that everything had its proper place and proper order. Watching the tall man scramble about the floor was like watching something out of a sitcom however-and-
He stopped short, sighing, “…Fuck it.”
“Loose your train of thought?”
“Train of thought is just fine thank you.” His tone was sharp now. She frowned as he put his head in his hands, “…Okay-maybe not so fine.”
“I’m still here and kind of sort of obligated to do what you tell me.” Rachel sat. She set her own stack down on the floor, “I mean-you are my boss.”
“Is that why you’re here?” The sharper tone was more evident now, “You want something?”
Puzzlement gave way to annoyance, “Yeah. To do good law. Gordon left me with a stack of cases the size of the phonebook to go through-I need help-according to the docket I’m in six places tomorrow-six-and I can’t be in six places because I’m not some kind of superhuman and my boss is down in the basement playing with paper!”
Silence filled the room where the two people were sitting. Rachel was tired and overworked and pausing to party for this rude (because that’s what he was-RUDE) imbecile hadn’t been on her schedule of things to do.
-----
“Batman has to do it alone.”
“So what. I stand here and wait?” Rachel Dawes is not good at waiting, she never has been, “I wait like I waited when you came back, I wait like I have done-all the time?”
“You’re asking me to put you ahead of the lives of everyone in this city Rachel?”
“That’s what people who love each other do Bruce.” Rachel grabbed her purse, “That’s what people who care about other people do.”
“You would be that selfish?”
“Will you listen to yourself?” Rachel exploded, “You don’t sound like anything human anymore, you are allowed to be weak-to admit that you’re not some kind of-of-“
“Savior?”
A dozen lines from a dozen songs worked its way through her head, “…No one should have to bear that burden alone but I can’t do this all by myself. Reach out to me-give me something!”
“Something. What kind of something?”
“Tell me you love me!”
The words are sudden and intense.
“Just that. Tell me that and I’ll believe you.”
----------
“Dawes? Dawes? …Rachel?” Harvey Dent was staring at her, inches away from her face, “Are you all right?”
Rachel closed her eyes, “I’m fine.”
“That’s the second time you’ve spaced out on me.” He withdrew, studying her like a child in a schoolyard game, “Have you eaten today?”
Lunch was an apple and a salad at least five-six hours ago. She nodded mutely, “At lunchtime.”
“Okay.” Harvey breathed deep, “…Okay. How about…how about we start over?”
She wondered if her mouth would get lines, frowning this much, “I don’t follow you.”
“Well, you apparently think I’m a jerk or some sort of strange pervert living in the basement…” His voice trailed off, “And I shouldn’t have been so…quick to assume that you came down here only to pester me for a different office or a new raise or something that I don’t have the power to give you.”
Something unsaid in his tone bothers her, but she lets it slide.
“So we’ll start over again.” He offered her a hand, “Hi. I’m Harvey Dent. Please don’t call me District Attorney Dent, or “Boss”. Every time somebody calls me that I feel like my stomach’s going to jump out my mouth and dance.”
The colorful metaphor made her smile, “…Rachel.”
The two shook hands as District Attorney Dent (No, Harvey! Or just Dent? They might have to work on this) clapped his hands on his thighs, “…This. Is a mess.”
She laughed again, “…Yes.”
“…What say, you and I go and get something to eat?” He must have sensed her upcoming objection, “…I don’t work well in messy conditions.”
“Wouldn’t have thought that by your desk.”
“I like to have everything close at hand.”
“It looks like you have half the law library down here.” Rachel said, amused, “Not to mention collecting old cases.”
“I collect cases that interest me. It’s my version of baseball cards.” He scooped a ream of paper of the floor and pointed at her desk, “Is that your docket?”
Her docket resting mournfully on the chair that seemed grateful to have something occupying its seat. She nodded.
“…My next question is, do you like Italian?”
-----
“Rachel, you know I love you but…”
“No. No buts. Look me in the eye and tell me there is only me. That some day when this is all over the man I love will come back. I have to believe that.”
His slump told her volumes, the sag of his body, his closed eyes. The tether between them pulled tighter-a hand gripping her chest and squeezing-always squeezing.
----
-----
Mamma Cella’s turned out to be a hole in a wall between a pawn shop and a hotel-a family owned and operated kitchen that exuded aroma and warmth up and down the street.
“I must have driven past this place a dozen times and never seen it.” They’d been greeted by Mamma Cella, a wide Italian woman who could have made two of Harvey and three of Rachel offering family style hugs and kisses to them both before showing them to a table. Their waiter was her son, polished and polite. It was charming, “I didn’t know places like this still existed in Gotham.”
“They’re small.” Harvey’d ordered Pasta Primavera with some sort of seafood, “A lot of the big Italian places-Roman’s, the Godfather’s-the crime families are the ones providing the old world atmosphere.”
Rachel swallowed, “…Horse heads in the soup, that kind of thing?”
Harvey flinched, “…I don’t joke about things like that.”
A chill wind wrapped around them both as Rachel set down her fork, “…I’ve noticed that. People V. Soprano, People V. Figaro-you push for harsher penalties when you think the mob’s concerned.”
Her boss said nothing. The wind deepened, darkened.
---------------
She stands up straight, gaze firm-meeting his eyes, “He really is dead then. Bruce Wayne.”
When Bruce looks at her Batman stares back and she shakes her head, “If you see him again-if you ever see him again. You tell him Batman-you tell him that some part of me will always wait. For the part he killed-the part you killed in him to come back. How long-before the protector becomes a criminal? Before the vigilante ends like all the heroes end?”
He doesn’t reply as she runs-out the door to her car-speeding out of the Wayne Manor drive way and vowing that no matter what-lest it was the funeral for the man she loved-she’d never return.
---
“…You read my brochure.”
She tried to recall it, something patriotic looking with that vaguely ominous slogan. Harvey scraped the last of the seafood off his plate onto his fork, not meeting her gaze.
“…My dad worked in the Gotham City shipyards. Didn’t get to go to college. Real hardass about it too.” His gaze turned glassy for an instant; looking at something only he could see-before he returned to the dish, “Mentions that right?”
Rachel didn’t like where this was going, “…Yeah…”
“Working in the Shipyards means that in addition to working for companies you work for the people who control the companies.”
He didn’t have to say their names. Rachel saw dancing visions of fat men with bad Hollywood accents, Armani suits, and an elegant old world solution to the problem of “business competition”
“My dad was a foreman-meant he took a lot more flack from the company men then the other guys. He tried to do what was right-stand up to the company. When one guy wanted to buy them out he said no-said he wasn’t going to give up his health plan-become some stooge for them.”
“See, Rachel-they don’t come after you. That’s what’s wrong with Gotham. They don’t come after the people that they try to hurt. They want you to suffer, to be dead inside before they actually kill you. That’s why people isolate themselves in this business-in law, in order, in everything. Have no connections, no friends, and nobody can hurt you.”
She winced, hoping that her boss didn’t see, “…Your dad?”
-------
“…My dad had…has…some problems.” Harvey Dent’s voice turned flat, dark and lifeless, “Because one day he came home to find my mother beaten senseless on our living room rug. She was paralyzed from the neck down and died two weeks afterwards. He-“
“You don’t have to tell me.” She hoped he wouldn’t, she prayed he wouldn’t, “…Please.”
Harvey looked startled, shaken-she frowned again-it was like he wasn’t even there, “…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said-there’s a reason why they say “traumatic childhood” in the brochure.”
“…Doesn’t make for good dinner conversation.”
“…I usually eat by myself. Gives me time to brood.”
“ A friendly piece of advice?” Rachel smirked, “Girls? Not so much with the brooding.”
“Probably why I’m single.” Harvey said with a laugh. The two faked it through the end of their humor before staring at each other again-attention on their plates.
Rachel set her fork down, the suspense killing her, “…I’m going to go nuts if you don’t tell me.”
A person passed by them on her way to the hotel. She watched them warily before staring up at a camera hidden above the hotel door. There was a buzz and she entered, tugging her headphones out of her ears and stealing one last glance at them.
“My adoring public.” He blinked, “Tell you what?”
“…What happened.”?
Silence hung between them again.
“…My father went insane.”
He spoke so blankly, so nonchalantly that she found herself worried for a moment. Harvey closed his eyes, “…Like I said, he wasn’t the most stable guy anyway. Never was. But finding my mother that way…set him off. He’s in a facility upstate.”
“…I’m sorry.” And she was sorry, sorry and thankful that she out of all the children of Gotham had apparently escaped the city’s curse unscathed, “I’m so sorry.”
“…It happened. It just-it drove me through college. It wanted to get the guys who’d done it. I got my chance when I graduated Suma cum Laude at Harvard.” He paused, hoping for some small gasp of amazement, some small turn of her mouth back into a smile.
“…Your chance?’
“We prosecuted them. Minor branch of the Falcone family. Family set them up the river. I’d like-“
He hesitated, “I’d like to get them all. I know the guy’s orders came from higher up-if we could get them all-this would be over. “ He sighed, “The longest reason ever for doing what I do.”
“It’s a good reason. You want it to be over?” Rachel pushed a few stray bits of basil around her plate, the lights around them growing brighter as night loomed.
He looked at her, aghast, “Why wouldn’t I? Look.” He leaned in close, resting his elbows at the edge of the table, “How many other kids are out there like me? It won’t cure the world but it’ll sure as hell start it on its way to recovery. I don’t-“ He shook his head, “I don’t want anyone to see the things I’ve seen. The simplest way to do that is to make people believe again.”
“Believe in what?” She expected a campaign speech, another slogan from his successful bid for the position he now held, “Gotham?”
He laughed, “No. The system. Because the system works. It’s gotten bad, but Batman-batman was a step in the right direction. Drastic yes-“
She had gone cold all over, wondering what Bruce was doing now-wondering if some case would come across her second-floor desk with the tagline “Batman?” on the cover in big bold letters.
“…But sometimes people need a show. Batman’s the main attraction-its time for the rest of us to step up and make this the biggest show the city’s ever seen. I can only imagine what that guy-whoever he is-must go through. He needs a chance to put down the cape. Believe that we as a people can make Gotham safe again. He taught us how to believe. Hell, he taught me how to believe again. He’s the reason I decided to run.”
Rachel swallowed nervously, “Batman?”
“Oh yeah. Hell yeah. I mean-dressing up in a costume and kicking ass and taking names? It was like something out of a movie or a comic book. It reminded me-slogging down in the basement. I’d become that which I’d hated- a cog in the machine, keeping the car running. Time to take it in for a tune-up, time to check the breaks. I mean despite the Batman? …Men make heroics. And we need to get people believing in us again. Men, not…bat…men.”
He sighed, checking his watch, “…and I…am talking like a university professor. It’s really late-do you want desert?”
She shook her head no as he waved away her money, “This one’s on me.”
When the waiter returned apologetically with his card to say it had been declined, Rachel chuckled at the blush across his face-putting her hand on his again to quell the sudden outburst, “…You haven’t gotten your first big DA paycheck.”
“There goes my big attempt at impressing you.” He stood up, “…I-“
“I’m easily impressed.” Rachel dropped some of her own money on the card, “A guy admitting that he’s short is a lot more impressive then a lot of macho bravado.”
“Wow.”
She shrugged into her coat, “Wow what?”
“…Wow, I think you’re the first person I’ve heard use Bravado outside of a literature geek.” He smiled and Rachel felt herself swoon, he was good looking.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile this evening.” She said, “…Definitely better then brooding.
---
He insisted on walking her home, or at least to the train. The tram had been rebuilt after the accident, but riding it again gave Rachel a queasy feeling she did not want to share or repeat.
The two of them stood on the platform, Rachel staring at the city below her, “…You know-in all that talking that we forgot this.”
She held up her files as Harvey lowered his head, “…God I’m sorry-I’m so sorry…Look, how about I make some changes-you won’t have to be in six places tomorrow. You-you pick where you want to go and I’ll ah-I’ll fill in.” The incoming administration was having difficulty as it was, Rachel hesitated-staring at her boss. What he was suggesting would require enough paperwork to float city hall and then some, “Sir?”
“Harvey. Or Dent.” He grinned at her, “You don’t want to see insides on the outside trust me. I took a pre-med class once as a joke-nearly threw up twice.”
“Harvey…” His blond hair was blowing in the wind, chiseled features worn with sleep. He looked happy to see her and-above all things human-something she’d forgotten men could be,” I-I could help you-“
“Nah.” He waved a hand, “I can promise you that you won’t be in six places tomorrow. Probably five or four-but six? Definitely not.”
She grinned despite herself, wrapping her arms around her torso, “…Thanks.”
The train was rumbling down the track lights coming out of the darkness like a creature of the night.
“…Of course-you could make it up to me-all the hard work I’m about to go back to the office and do.”
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“Dinner.” His face was firm, “…Tomorrow night. I know lots of little hidey-hole restaurants for us public service lemmings to visit. You like Thai?”
She thought of Bruce.
Bruce in his mansion, Bruce in his cave, Bruce who was so lost to her that he thought this would never be over. She needed an end, to believe that they could accomplish something. The wind blew her hair. She’d worked at Gotham City hall for ages-but never gotten friendly with any of her coworkers.
“…Tomorrow.”
She was surprised at her smile, “…Six.”
The door opened for her as her boss’s grin widened. (God, he really was good looking wasn’t he?) “…It’s a date.”
The tether between her heart and the heart of the man she loved snapped as the door closed and the train roared through the night.