A Common Need: Toxin

Chapter One: Reset

By J. "Mysterious Wind" Ruisu

"When I'm doing all that I can do

You are forcing me to remember

When all I want is to just forget you."

- 'Elephants' by Rachael Yamagata

Harvey

I had been offered time off to grieve, but I did not take it. What was the point in grieving, now? In my mind, it seemed that the faster I began erasing her from my memories, the faster it would be over.

I was grateful for the way that my work was managing to distract me. Surfing through my papers that morning, a dreary sky hovering through the window behind me and setting a cool chill over the entire, messy office space, I managed to keep my mind in a pretty focused beam. Work, work, coffee, work. I could not see the end of my day in my sight, and I was quite okay with that.

The only thing that distracted me every now and then, if I focused was the smell of cologne on my skin when I lifted my hand to wipe my nose or touch my lips thoughtfully. It was not a scent that I had ever worn, and although I knew where it came from, each fresh wave rumbled through me like a tidal. I was in pain.

Bruce

Two months. It had been two months to the day, today. I had only sent one quick phone message to him, in the in between time. There was nothing I could do that fully occupied my time, anymore. The sky was still dull and grey, although spring should have been arriving soon enough. Everything was cold, everyone felt cold. Alfred seemed to have, begrudgingly, gotten over his temporary hatred of me.

It wasn't as if I had blamed Alfred's turn of moods; I hated myself, too. For not being there to help, for being so preoccupied during Christmas. I didn't know how much Alfred had figured out of what was going on, but for now it seemed that he was going to let me off the hook.

He was walking with me from a banquet that night, and for once I was smiling. I barely thought of Rachel, anymore; it was Harvey who I missed, who I had no idea how to speak to again. How was any of it my fault, though? My mind was split in two, one half guiltier than a mass murderer presented with the evidence, the other confused as to what the hold up was.

"What are you thinking about, Master Wayne?" Alfred interrupted my thoughts. I looked over to him, my breath swirling out of my mouth in a steamy cloud.

"I was just wondering how Harvey Dent was doing," I confessed. It was the truth; just not the explicit truth.

Alfred nodded, his cheeks red from the cold as he stuffed his hands further inside of his jacket. "You're a good person, Master Wayne. It's in your nature to worry about others," he mused.

I smiled, watching my feet move beneath me. "I suppose so," I responded, in a quieter voice.

"Why don't you just call him?" Alfred asked as he waved our limousine over.

I looked up, eyebrows raised for a moment before my face fell back to its usual serene mask. "I wouldn't know what to say," I said, once again omitting all the graphic details of what I felt. Alfred frowned at me as he clambered into the car.

"That you're sorry," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I had to pause for a moment before climbing inside the blacked out vehicle. My mind was so preoccupied with the prompt from Alfred that for once I was not reminded of taking a limousine very much like this to the place I had last seen Harvey.

Harvey

I visited the grave once every few weeks, to replace the flowers. Sometimes her family beat me to it, but it seemed that they had now accepted that I was willing to take on the painful job. I wasn't sure whether to feel glad of this, or not. In any case, it gave me time to kneel by her grave, ignoring the snow creeping through the knees of my pants, and take some time to speak to the woman who had been my best friend for what seemed like such a long time.

"It's me again. Hope you don't mind me visiting," I spoke, brushing the snow off of the top of her grave and running my fingers through the relief of her name.

"The weather's still pretty bad, eh? I was hoping it would have gotten better by now. I would like to see some grass growing up from that grave of yours," I smiled as my hands busily worked to pull the old flowers away and replace them with the fresh roses I had bought.

"I still haven't talked to Bruce," I mumbled. I had long ago confessed to her the relationship I had had with him, during her final months. She took it well, just like she took everything else; to me, the silence with which the grave answered was far better than any of the gushing condolences I still received.

"I really miss him, Rache. I miss the way he smells, the way he tastes, the way his hair falls after we've made love. Everything. Did you miss him like that, too, long ago? How much did you love him, Rachel? Why didn't you love him better? None of this would have happened. It's not that I regret it, I just think that it would have been better for all of us, you know? But what's the use in me moaning about the past? And why am I still here, visiting you? How am I supposed to heal if I visit your grave and read those words, over and over again?"

I was practically hyperventilating by this point, leaning against her tombstone and letting the tears flow. There was no reason to hide them, here. I just wanted to get them out. It used to be that I cried like this, every day, for the confusion of her loss and the pain of being without Bruce. I had become better at limiting the pain over the last few weeks, but it still felt nice to get out whatever I had been bottling up.

"We really have to start meeting like this," I heard a voice chime through the air. Delirious, my head snapped up and my heart skipped a beat, convinced that it was Bruce. Instead, I saw Alfred standing with his black umbrella, looking almost the same as he had the day that we laid Rachel to rest.

He smiled at me, his own flowers resting in his hands. "Would you like to go get a cup of tea?" he asked, moving closer.

I stood up, trying my best to wipe my eyes and sniff my nose in a nonchalant fashion. "That would be lovely," I remarked, watching him carefully as he bent down to lay his daffodils on her grave and kiss her tombstone lightly. I had no idea that he was still visiting; could it be that he really did love her as a daughter, as he loved Bruce like a son? I was amazed by how little I found myself understanding, in that moment.

"Shall we?" the man-servant asked, turning and beginning to walk. I caught up with a slight run, breathing heavily through the cold air.

o o o

The small tea house that Alfred brought me to, a few blocks away, was quaint and much warmer than the air we had been walking through previously. I gladly pulled my jacket off and walked to a nearby booth, two steps behind the old man. He eagerly sat, and waved a waitress over, who took his 'usual' order.

"And what would you care for, Mr. Dent?" the waitress asked. At first, I was inclined to ask her how she knew me; then I remembered that I was frequently pasted on the front page of the papers and tabloids. With as charming a smile as I could muster, I looked straight into her eyes; clear blue and shining, I felt as if I were looking in the mirror.

"An earl grey, please," I mumbled, looking away quickly to flash a sheepish smile to Alfred.

The butler smiled, taking off his leather gloves and shifting slightly in his seat so as to make himself more comfortable.

"How've you been, Mr. Dent?" he asked, saying my name in a much more elegant fashion than the waitress had.

"Busy," I nodded, fiddling with the beautifully embroidered napkin that had been set on the table when we had sat down.

"Of course, I can imagine things have been hectic. Have you found a new A.D.A.?" Alfred questioned, sitting perfectly still. Leave it to him to make me look like a nervous little kid.

"Yes, fortunately. He'll only be holding Miss Dawes' place until the next election, but I feel that he'll be quite sufficient," I nodded.

"Listen to you, speaking so professionally," Alfred smirked.

I laughed, nervously tucking some hair behind my ear. "I'm afraid that I always want to make my very best impression around you, Mr. Pennyworth."

"You know that my name is Alfred, not Pennyworth. You don't think that just because you have no direct ties to me, now, that we are to stop being friendly?" Alfred frowned.

"No, no, of course not," I shook my head, and was full of relief as the waitress came over with our steaming mugs and tealeaves.

Alfred expertly prepared both his and my own drink, while I watched in curiosity and awe. The art of tea was something I had never quite mastered; sure, I could dunk a paper pouch into boiling water, but anything beyond that seemed too complicated.

"So business is good; how are you coping with being a bachelor?" Alfred asked after taking a few tentatives sips and making a satisified noise.

"It's definitely odd," I confessed.

Alfred shifted again. "I'm afraid I know all too well the life of a bachelor. However, in my experience, and Bruce's," he paused and met my eyes when he said the name – I tried to steady my breathing as quickly as I could, "it has seemed to be a mostly positive thing."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll get used to it and enjoy it soon enough," I nodded, averting eye contact with him.

"Would you like to know the truth of why I invited you out, Mr. Dent?" Alfred asked. I remembered all too quickly that he was not generally one to beat around the bush.

"I thought it was because my company was so stellar," I joked, hoping that my smile was friendly and not terrified.

"It is, Mr. Dent. But there was another reason. Master Wayne has been worried sick about you," Alfred was stirring his tea absently as he said this.

My heart stuttered, and I looked down to my hands, wrapped around the red coffee mug. "He's told you this?" I asked, begging my voice not to crack.

"Only once, but I have known him his whole life. I can tell when he is preoccupied," Alfred explained. I still stared at my hands, tightened my grip on the mug.

"Why hasn't he called then?" I asked, looking up with a curious expression on my face, masking my pain.

"You and I both know the extent of Bruce's pride, Mr. Dent. I am surprised that he admitted to thinking of you at all," Alfred's voice was frank as he made this statement.

"Me too," I murmured, letting my nostrils flare.

"There's the crack in your demure mask that I was looking for. I would say that you wait one day, and if he doesn't call you back by then, call him. There's no use in wasting your time, any longer," Alfred muttered, gulping back a large amount of his still steaming tea. I winced, imagining the burning sensation.

Unsure of how to respond, I took a swig of my own tea. Feeling it warm my insides was surprisingly reassuring.

"I have another appointment to be at, now, Mr. Dent. Please take my advice under consideration," Alfred stood, dropping a few bills and some change onto the table and resting his hand on my shoulder kindly before heading out. I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

Bruce

I was glad that Valentine's Day had already come and gone before, otherwise I would have felt even more pressure to make up to Harvey. As it was, I had a stomach ache and had been staring at my phone for twenty minutes. The sky was beginning to darken, but I knew that I still had a few hours before I had to head out for the evening, so I was hiding in my office's bathroom, staring at my phone and trying not to glance at my clammy face in the mirror.

I bit my lip and dialled his number again. Seeing his name show up beneath the number, I felt myself clench up in terror again. It wasn't just that I hadn't spoken to him in 2 months and I felt guilty; it was that my pride was at stake. I knew I was being an idiot, but it didn't take away the fear.

"Enough," I growled, punching the talk button and lifting it up to my ear.

It rang three times before I heard his voice. It was sharp, much louder than I had expected.

"Dent, here," he spoke harshly.

"Harvey," I mumbled, looking at myself in the mirror, watching a bead of sweat roll down my forehead.

He was quiet for quite some time. I spoke, repeating his name, and he grunted.

"...Bruce?" he mumbled, voice wavering. I heard a door closing behind him.

"Did you just lock yourself in the closet?" I asked, smirking to myself.

Harvey was quiet again, but this silence was charged. I felt my heart sink.

"Sorry, Harvey..." I muttered apologetically.

"Are you okay?" he asked, clearing his throat before he spoke.

I furrowed my brows. "Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?"

"I'm glad you called," he replied. I couldn't help but smile, but he spoke before I could reply.

"Alfred spoke to me today, pretty much ordered me to call you if you didn't call me within the next twenty four hours."

I exhaled in disbelief, and took a moment to pull myself together. "What would've been so bad about having to call me back?"

I heard his breathe escape from between his lips, lips I still had memorized. "...It would mean that you didn't truly want me. And I would not have called back," he confessed.

I gulped. "Well, I'm here now," I assured him, my voice huskier than I had intended.

"That's true," he stated as if it were the most bland fact in the world.

"I... Harvey, I'm sorry," I spoke, making my voice louder halfway through the statement.

"What was that?" he asked. Apparently my efforts to be brave were useless.

"I'm sorry, Harvey," I said, raising my voice louder now.

I could hear his smile, though it sounded as if he were trying to stifle it. "For what?" he asked.

"Are you trying to torture me?" I whined.

"Just fucking answer," he snapped.

I sighed. "For not being there for you. For not... coming to the funeral. For having disappeared all this time."

"That's a good start," he noted in a mocking tone.

"I want you back, Harvey," I murmured.

He was quiet for longer this time, but I could hear his breathing. It was faster, now, not nearly as relaxed as he had been before.

"Bruce... I never left."

Author's Note: Welcome to the final installment (for real, this time) of the ACN series! This one, as you can see, is called "Toxin"... I'm pretty sure that reason for that will become clear over time. I want to really press that the Joker has not, and will never appear in this series. Please stop asking about him. Also, yes, they are still talking about Rachel. You would, too, if you had been in love with a woman who died tragically. xD But don't worry, she'll be pretty much gone from their thoughts pretty quickly. Thanks for sticking with me after all this time! x]