Author's Note: This is a reboot of a series which I wrote from 2008 to 2010 called A Common Need. I've been trying to rediscover my love for creative writing, and found a lot of inspiration in re-reading my old fanfics. I especially enjoyed A Common Need and its companions, but was distracted by a lot of problematic elements which I would change if I could go back in time. Alas, I can do no such thing, and so, I give you Thirst! No promises on scheduling as I'm a busy university student, but I'd really like to give this an honest go! I love reviews, so please leave one if you can! Just like the last time, the Joker will make no appearances, and I'm not really editing much. Just going to try to get some content created! Let's go!

Chapter One

Harvey ran a hand through his blonde hair, jaw clenched as he watched the sky overhead. The beacon's light seemed brighter tonight than he remembered it being previously; the clouds were hanging low, smothering Gotham like a thick down-filled blanket, causing the shadows of the night to be brightened into gloomy day by the city lights.

Harvey liked to think that it was this light pollution that made the Batman look darker than the night when he finally appeared, and not some supernatural force that influenced the vigilante. He was a looming figure, quiet and still as he watched Harvey. Dent furrowed his brows, steeling himself to look earnestly at the threatening figure.

"Thank you for coming," he said, squaring his shoulders in an unconscious attempt to feel less inferior.

"What do you need?" the figure growled.

"I—" he took a deep breath, swallowed hard. His heart was beating faster now. It seemed that no matter how fervent his pep talks were, Harvey always lost his confidence when he was in front of the Batman. His admiration clouded his judgement, something he usually prided himself on. "I need you to—"

Machine gun fire exploded through the thick network of metropolitan sounds which already filled the chilly October air. The Batman turned his head the smallest amount, and Harvey noticed small lines forming at the edge of his lips. "No, wait!" Harvey protested, but the spectral figure disappeared almost as quickly as he had appeared.

The DA slumped, exhaling sharply and digging his hands into his trouser pockets. He should have known better than to hesitate, should have spoken more quickly, and he shouldn't have been upset about the Batman leaving to attend to an active crime scene, especially one so close to the office building. All of these things were true, and yet none of them bothered Harvey as much as they should have. What bothered him the most as he pulled the lever and turned off the Bat signal, was the pit of disappointment sitting at the bottom of his stomach. He was like a pitiful fan, shunned or belittled when he met his hero. No, not like that; that, exactly.

Bruce limped into his penthouse, wincing slightly as he closed the door behind him. Damn dogs. He stretched out, twitching his neck back and forth in an effort to work out the remaining bone pain from a couple of well-placed kicks.

He made his way to his bedroom and poured himself a scotch-on-the-rocks, but his mind was elsewhere, and he over-poured. He quietly cursed to himself, pulling off his t-shirt and using it to mop up the mess, already seeing the look on Alfred's face when he discovered what Bruce had done. It wasn't the distraction that was odd for Bruce; far from it. It was the subject of his distraction: Harvey Dent.

Bruce had plenty of reasons, both as the Batman and as Bruce Wayne, to care about Dent's actions. Most of the time, those very logical reasons were what kept Bruce's mind occupied. But tonight, it was the way he'd looked when Bruce had answered Harvey's summons. Whatever he was trying to say, it was clearly a struggle for him. Whether that was because of the content, or because of his nerves, it was hard for Bruce to tell. Much of Dent's comfortable charm melted when he was in front of Batman, and it was becoming more and more vexing to Bruce. Was Dent summoning him out of duty, or out of some fascination? Were those two mutually exclusive?

Regardless, if Bruce was required to have recurring meetings with someone from the District Attorney's office, he didn't mind it being Dent. Rachel's reasons for partnering with him were obvious, even to the deeply reluctant Bruce. And, in the end, he truly did believe that Harvey could continue to do great things for Gotham. For all of his nervousness and time wasting, Dent gave Bruce hope, and that wasn't a claim that many people could make.

Bruce sighed, pouring and sipping a second glass of scotch, and looking out of his large windows at his view of Gotham. The sun was almost fully risen, bathing the skyline in a soft peach glow. The clouds had parted, promising a crisp autumn day ahead. The man glanced at the large clock on the wall – just enough time for a quick power nap before he was on his way to the office. Bruce set the glass down and slunk over to his king-sized bed, collapsing onto it and closing his eyes. Regardless of Dent's concerns or intentions last night, there had been more pressing issues to attend to. Harvey's status didn't automatically give the man exclusive access to Batman, especially not if he was going to be unclear about what he wanted. Continuing their mutual push to clean up Gotham's streets was what should have mattered the most to both of them, and Bruce wasn't about to let anyone get in the way of that.

His phone buzzed quietly from his pocket, vibrating against his toned thigh. He blinked, lifted it up in front of his face. Her name was written in stark, white lettering on a plain slate grey background: Rachel. He closed his eyes for a moment longer, inhaled deeply, and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered.