The Silent Guardian

Summary: How hard would it be, really, for Gotham's DA to discover Batman's identity?


"Get me the accounts for Wayne Enterprises."

"Sir?"

"Everything for the past …three, no, four months."

"Is that even legal, sir?"

Harvey slowed is frenetic pace to look the aide, a Mr. Carlos Moralis, small man, no more than five foot seven, and several years younger than himself, in the eye. "If we're going to shut down the mob in this city, Mr. Moralis, we're going to have to cut off their food supply. Wayne Enterprises just entered into negotiations with Lao, one of Hong Kong's most notorious international money launderers. This may be our first lead into where Gotham's crime bosses are hiding their funds. As for the legality," he paused, considering, "Wayne Enterprises volunteered for an audit before entering into the negotiations. It was performed by the the state, which means…"

"We have the records on file," Carlos took off, leaving Harvey alone at the door to his office.

It was all true, of course. Dent could not afford to have his case denounced at a critical point, but he had his own reasons for investigating Wayne industries. Investigating Lao would only require accounts from the beginning of their negotiations, but Dent's instincts were telling him that all was not right behind the inscrutable exterior Wayne Enterprises.

Beginning three months before, company heir Bruce Wayne returns from the dead just in time to reclaim his inheritance, only to turn around and place the company in the competnent hands of one Lucius Fox, once of a minor department within the company that had been all but shut down. Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place, he turns to the life of a semi-retired playboy.

And though Bruce's socialite antics were on the cover of every tabloid in the city, it felt as if no one else in the city had noticed this transformation, except Dent. Even Rachel was closed-mouthed about it when he told her of his intentions to investigate her childhood friend's behavior.

"You're telling me that you don't see anything strange in Wayne's actions over the past few months?" he mentioned to her over lunch

"For the last time, that's not what I mean," she huffed, "I'm not saying Bruce is an easy man to understand, but I know he's not doing anything to help the mob. In case you've forgotten, the mob killed his parents."

"Rachel, the man goes from declared dead, to the mastermind who prevents Wayne Enterprises from going public, to a rich playboy without a brain in his head. There must be something there."

"Harvey, trust me. Nothing is going to come out of these negotiations. Can't you just be happy that Wayne Enterprises is keeping Lao in the city long enough to track the cash flow?"

No, he wanted to say, but he could see that something else was clearly on Rachel's mind and she was in no mood to discuss her ex. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have even brought the man up, but something about Wayne grated on him, professionally and personally this man was a piece of a puzzle that he simply could not find a place for. The only businessman in the city, perhaps the country, who had no marks on his record, no lawsuits, no misdemeanor whatsoever. He was too clean.

Or perhaps Harvey was just growing paranoid, seeing enemies behind what might very well be not just innocent exterior, but an innocent man. Perhaps the man had been changed by his disappearance from a serious youth to the feckless man who seemed to be enjoying his money for the first time.

Then again, nobody lasts long in Gotham without being more than a little paranoid.


Rachel was right, of course. The very next day Wayne Enterprises cut its ties with Lao's company, citing the city's investigation. Harvey would have continued the investigation on his own time but the mob had flaired up again and he was too busy over the following days to spend even a moment contemplating the enigma.

That is, until Moralis came back with the word on Wayne Enterprises' accounts and some very interesting, almost invisible, discrepancies.

"Sir, Mr. Dent, sir!" Moralis called, catching Dent in the hallways on the way back to his office. Under one arm he held a filefolder than that was bursting at the seams, and in his hand a single sheet of computer paper.

"Carlos, what have you been up these past few days?" Harvey said with an air of pleasant surprise, clapping the aide on the back.

"The Wayne audit, sir. Don't you remember?"

Harvey stopped just outside the door, "Carlos, Wayne Enterprises broke off the negotiations with Lao almost a week ago. We have Lao in custody. Didn't anyone tell you that the audit's unnecessary now?"

Carlos groaned, "You mean I've been reading myself blind for the last week for nothing?"

"Sorry, Carlos. It must have just slipped everyone's minds with everyone so busy on the Lao prosecution."

"Well, do you still want to see what I found?"

"You know, why not? Come into my office."

Harvey sat back behind his desk while Moralis flipped through what must have been hundreds of pages of printout, occasionally pointing out particular spikes or drops in Wayne stock. Everything seemed impeccable, which was almost suspicious in and of itself. But Harvey could sense that Moralis was building towards something and remained silent, fingers steepled with his index fingers pressed against his lips while the other man spoke.

"Mr. Dent, does Wayne Enterprises have any government contracts?"

"At this point I think you'd be better at answering that that I am, but no, as far as I know Wayne Enterprises is strictly private."

"Well, just after Mr. Wayne returned, a new project was opened, labeled as a government investment to provide cell phones for soldiers. It looks like millions are being pumped into this thing, but as far as I can tell the department has no employees except for Mr. Fox."

Harvey straightened, like a hunting dog that had caught the scent of blood, "And how much is Mr. Fox drawing from this project?"

"Nothing. There doesn't seem to be any production coming from this sector whatsoever, and for all the money going in, not a cent is coming out in profits," Moralis saw the gleam in Dent's eyes and grinned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"We can't be sure yet, I want you to track that cash flow, find out where's its going, cross-reference it with what we know about the mob. See if you can get me that by the end of the day."

"Sure thing, sir, I'll get right on that," Moralis said, gathering up the folder and leaving the room just as Rachel pushed passed him.

"What was that?" she said, taking Moralis' vacated seat.

"Do you know if Wayne Enterprises has any government contracts?"

Rachel frowned, "Not that I know of, Bruce tends to avoid those deals, he says they come with too many stings attached. Why do you ask?"

Harvey recapped Moralis' report and by the end of it Rachel had a thoughtful frown on her face, "Have you considered that it might be a charity project? That would explain the lack of profit."

"Or maybe he's providing funds for the city's criminals, hush money, or security," Harvey retorted.

"Harvey, can't you just let it go? Bruce isn't doing anything illegal, at least Wayne Enterprises isn't. This isn't going to lead anywhere."

"And if it does?"

"Then I don't think its going to be anywhere that helps us. My God, Harvey, I already see his face on the front of every tabloid in the city, I don't need my boyfriend obsessing over Bruce too."

"I'm not obsessing," said Harvey, perhaps a little more frostily than he meant.

"Could have fooled me," she said, "I'm not saying throw out what you have, but right now we have real leads on real criminals, and we need all of your energy there. Anyway, Bruce's fundraiser, which he's been kind enough to throw for you I might add, is tomorrow. You can ask him yourself then."

It was the last they spoke of Bruce that day, but as Harvey lay in bed that night, Rachel's arm draped across his chest , thoughts of the playboy billionaire once again began to haunt him. Running one hand gently through Rachel's hair, he could not shake the feeling that he was missing something.

Exhaustion dragged his body down into the mattress, and his brain that had been rushing in overdrive, referencing and cross-referencing, assembling arguments, pouring over the records, was screaming for rest. His eyelids his slid shut and his fingers stilled , entangled in Rachel's soft brown hair. He slipped into the soft velvety darkness of sleep when, rising as if combed from the depths of his subconscious, a single phrase appeared.

What would anyone need all that cash for, if not to fund the mob?

The thought prickled at his consciousness but it was not enough to raise him from his slumber, his breathing deepened and the first shreds of dreams flitted across his consciousness, bringing color to his sleeping mind. when with them rose the an answer to a question he had not even realized he had been asking himself.

Unless it was to fight the mob.

Harvey's eyes flew open.

And the first missing piece slid into place.


The next day he worked through lunch, pulling every online file he could find on the Wayne family, specifically Bruce. At one point Rachel stuck her head in, and laughing asked why he looked so excited.

He muttered something about being anxious for the coming evening and, apparently satisfied with this answer, she left him in peace. He had lost the initial rush of certainty and by now had now nearly convinced himself that the idea was crazy. He just needed to find something that disproved it. When said aloud, the idea of the ridiculous playboy who had kidnapped the entire Russian ballet corps for a cruise on his yacht having any kind of dark side was ludicrous.

But the more he read, the harder it was to ignore.

Rachel had always assured him that Bruce had been good to her while they were dating , and Harvey dimly remember her mentioning soon after he found out that she had dated the airheaded heir that he was in fact a very honorable man who was deeply motivated by the suffering in the world. Harvey hadn't understood what she meant then and had forgotten the comment, until now.

Parent's killed while he was still a chld by a man with rumored connections to the mob, rumored to be more assassination than mugging gone wrong.

Top marks in school promptly squandered when the young man disappeared for years, with only sporadic reports in the following years. Some time in France, England, Egypt and then further east through Turkey into the heart of Asia. When asked where he had gone, he gave the usual college graduate answer, to "find himself", though most graduates had that pretty well figured out by the time they were thirty, unlike Mr. Wayne. After rescuing his parent's company and his own inheritance, he throws himself into a life of debauchery, for all the world like a man drunk on wealth.

Then, within a month of his return, a new figure appears on the Gotham stage, a masked vigilante in black who launches a personal crusade to take back the city from the scum that had overrun it for so long. Nothing is known of this mysterious figure except the barest statistics, male, presumably Caucasian, cleanshaven, light eyes, over six feet tall and heavily muscled. The press quickly dubs the silent guardian, "Batman" and the rest is history.

The man had motivation and means, but the evidence was all circumstantial unless someone managed to unmask him. And that man was certainly not going to be Harvey Dent.

More here about why Harvey is satisfied and won't go further.

Closing the file with a sigh, he looked up the clock just to see it stike two. Lunch was over, back to work. As he fed the files and printouts into into the shredder, he could not help but smile wryly. He would certainly be seeing Bruce Wayne in a different light this evening, whether or not he deserved it. But for now he would lay this pet project to rest.


That night a playboy billionaire easily subdues Gotham's DA and drags him to safety just minutes before Batman appears on the scene and saves a young woman from a fatal fall. Some of the dazed guests note later that they heard him shout a name before he leapt after her, a level of personal interest that would be worth their millions to some, but which is quickly forgotten.

As events in Gotham spin out of control, Harvey Dent is comforted by the knowledge that even if the worst should happen, Rachel would have a guardian angel looking out for her.

Until a fateful night in a warehouse, surrounded by hundreds of barrels of oil rigged to blow, he hears a entirely different kind of explosion as the door bursts open. A figure in black Kevlar and a cape dashes through the door, and hesitates.

In that moment, Harvey feels the excruciating agony of his heart being torn apart one piece at a time, all in the space of a second.

"NO! You're not supposed to save me!" he screams, and keep screaming until his voice is raw, clawingagainst the bonds that tie him as the Dark Knight's moment of uncertainty ends and he dives into motion, sprinting forward to pull the White Knight to safety. On the other end of the line he hears the relief in her voice, her last words.

"Harvey, its ok, because-" static roars through the connection and the line goes dead but he is moving, or being moved at full speed across the room as the barrels detonate one after the other and the room boils with the heat of the flames.

But he does not see it all in the split second it takes place. Time slows, he watches almost with curiosity as a single ember float towards him as he is dragged away on Batman's shoulder, he turns his head to avoid it and feels the light impact and the sudden seering agony of fire as it consumes his oil-soaked skin, scalding and melting…

Down to the bone.

He screams as Batman pulls him from the wreck of the building, agony consuming his soul.

He hardly feels the burns, he doesn't feel the jarring impact as he is thrown to the ground and Batman douses the flames that consume him.

He is consumed by a different fire, her last words, her yes, her moment of realization…

…her relief.

That he would be saved instead of her. He howls his anguish as his his skin bubbles and cracks, the unfeeling Knight that he had trusted Rachel's life with looms above him.

A silent guardian.

But not Rachel's.