A/N: I'm back again, guys! Sorry it took so long to get this up, and it's also incredibly short! Think of this as the prologue, haha. I'm going to be writing the spin-off with Abigail sometime soon, right along side of this, so keep an eye out for that, too. I know the plotline has probably be done a thousand times, and it savors a bit of cliche, but I absolutely love it. The plot is tried and true! Plus, with J thrown in the midst, that must make for some excellent twists and turns! I hope I don't disappoint!

"I hate living like this, Bruce."

Bruce Wayne looked the man soberly in the face. "There's nothing more I can do. You refuse to let me help you… heal. How can you stop living like this if you decline any form of aid?"

Burn victims were common in large cities. Every hospital was equipped with everything that was needed in order to restore someone to their original appearance. It would have only taken a month or two to get Harvey Dent back to his old self. He could have been back out in Gotham, the face of the city, helping defeat crime and restore peace to it's streets. Instead, he sat in a house obtained in a joint effort by Bruce Wayne and Abigail Morris, staring at the cleanly painted walls, adjusting to a life of near complete solitude.

A sneer curled on Harvey's lip. "I'm as patched up as I ever will be. It's not that that I was talking about."

Bruce watched as Harvey ran his fingers absently over the arm of his chair. The room around them was in peaceful disarray. He had spent nearly every day for the past eight months sitting in this room. Leaving the small house outside of Gotham's city limits was not an option. His face, or what was left of it, was too easily recognized, even out there.

"What were you talking about, then?" he asked.

"I haven't seen her in months - eight months. You never talk about her. You're afraid that it'll get me upset, angry. I sit here for hours thinking of nothing but her. What is she doing? How is she feeling? How is she sleeping?" His voice lowered, and a hint of sadness overwhelmed it, causing it to give a nearly unnoticeable shake, "I worry. I wish you'd talk about her." Harvey rubbed his left cheek, leaning against his hand and staring directly at Bruce. "What aren't you telling me?"

A rattling thump rang out in Bruce's chest. How could he tell Harvey what had happened? Harvey was not stable enough to receive the news. He would do someone harm, either himself or someone unsuspecting. It just wasn't safe. Not only that, but Abigail had made him promise not to speak a word to Harvey about it.

But there was an incorruptibility in his clear blue eyes, a yearning for information. Those were eyes that anyone could trust. Bruce shook his head, settling back down onto the sofa. "I have told you everything that I know. I'm a busy man, Harvey. I tell you what I hear, and I don't hear much. I'm also not a reporter. I have no idea what's going on with the people of Gotham - couldn't care much either, really."

"Are you sure?" Harvey whispered, "Are you sure that you don't know anything about her? Is she okay? Could you at least tell me that she's okay?"

Bruce looked up at Harvey and nodded. He saw a light of "She's okay. If she was anything less than that, I would have told you."

They sat there in silence for a moment, pensive silence. Bruce contemplated how Abigail would react should he tell Harvey about Christine. Harvey thought of nothing other than her face - every pore, every fine line of it. There was a quiet buzz in Bruce's pocket. He removed his cell phone and stared into its face. Abigail.

Bruce cursed silently to himself as he flipped open the phone and held it to his ear. "Bruce Wayne." Harvey sat up in his chair, ears alert. "Yeah, yeah… yeah, I'll tell him." There was another long quiet. "Are you sure? Have you thought this out?" He bit nervously on the inside of his mouth, shutting his eyes. It was clear in Abigail's voice that she was wary about the very thing that she told him to do. It wasn't her idea. Christine had asked her to do this.

After he shut his phone and slipped it back into the pocket of his slacks, he turned to Harvey. His heart raced fearfully in his chest. Even after playing the masked vigilante for going on three years, he still felt the cold chill of fear when he had to approach others as Bruce Wayne. It was his mask that kept him strong. Without it, he was Bruce, the young playboy millionaire, the orphan, the boy that was still afraid to turn into a dark alleyway alone.

"That was Abigail," he began, and he saw Harvey's hands grip the armrests of the chair. "She called to tell me that Christine is in the hospital." Harvey nearly jumped out of his seat at the word, but Bruce grabbed him by the arm, forcing him with surprising strength to sit back down. "No, it's not serious." When he saw Harvey calm noticeably, he continued. "Well, she's not in any danger. I am afraid, however, that it is rather serious."

Harvey's eyes were wide. "What is it!? Stop being so damn cryptic, Bruce! Tell me what she said!" His chest rose and fell with each breath sucked in through a mouth agape with fear. If Bruce's heart had raced with dread, Harvey's threatened to burst from his ribcage.

"Abigail didn't say much," he said softly, patting Harvey on the arm and watching as the former DA tensed again. Bruce couldn't find the correct words. He had kept this secret for the past eight months in an attempt to save Harvey from the grief that it would no doubt stir. He would not be able to handle this, not right now. He wasn't ready. But, Abigail had stated plainly that he must know. There was no stalling. He must be told. "Just that… she's had the baby."

The air was knocked from Harvey's lungs, and he slumped backwards against the chair. "What?" He couldn't comprehend what Bruce had said. He stared at him with the left side of his face skewed with confusion. "Christine's had a child?" He shut his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side, attempting to do the math in the back of his head. Slowly, memories began to leak behind his eyes.

"I haven't seen her in months - eight months."

"No, I don't want any of that. I want you to be my wife."

"Please, Christine, kiss me, and then you can go. I don't care where you go or with whom. I just want this. I want this before you leave."

His eyes welled with tears at each progressing thought. Despite the length of time since they had happened, he could still taste her, smell her. He could still see her with perfect clarity. Despite all that she had done to him, the undeniably true sensation of love was still in his heart.

"I thought she'd rip my pants right off… I like that in a woman."

Joker…

"I have to see her, Bruce. I have to see her, and I have to see the baby."

Bruce shook his head immediately, "No, no, no, that's impossible. In your condition, it's hardly the sane thing to do. We have to wait. Christine has to get comfortable. She's not ready to see you again yet. She told Abigail that."

"But the child…," Harvey groaned inwardly, lifting his eyes to Bruce's. "You don't understand. The child… It may very well be mine."