Elizabeth fell asleep on the balcony with the phone in her hand – a phone that never rang. Three-thirty that morning, she pulled herself up and back inside before she caught cold. The couch was the farthest she got before collapsing. At seven, she woke again and began getting ready for her day with the TV blasting, hoping to hear more news about the Balloonman. Nothing new. She'd have broken the phone if she didn't need it. Damn it, Harvey.
That day, Bruce was chipper – better than Alfred had seen in quite some time. Alfred had rested well; both of them sleeping in. The boy had gone to watch the news when Alfred made lunch; they'd missed breakfast. As the boy ate, a knock sounded at the door.
"Elizabeth, you're looking exhausted this morning," He took her coat after she entered, noting the way her eyes seemed dull. "Is something the matter?" A sigh left her lips before she could think better of it. She simply stared at him. The butler straightened. "Master Bruce is eating. Please, come, I'll fix you some tea."
He'd planned on coaxing her into opening up. After overhearing her time with Bruce, Alfred was convinced he could put on the ol' psych-type pretty well. Instead, Elizabeth spoke quickly and softly.
"I made a mistake befriending a detective. I'm a worrier and now the Balloonman is attacking cops. God! This is stupid," She never meant to vent to him, but damn it, she needed a friend. "I'm sorry, Alfred."
He set the tea before her. "If I may," He paused, "Mr. Bullock is quite the lucky man to have someone as genuine as yourself so concerned with his wellbeing. Surely, he's your friend and aren't we supposed to care for our friend's safety?"
The woman nodded, "I know. I just…don't want to get in too deep," She left it at that, but paused. "Do you know someone named Fish Mooney?"
"I can't say that I do," Alfred shook his head. "Should I?"
"Probably not. She doesn't seem like your class of people," At this comment, the butler raised a brow. "I think she's dangerous." She finished.
"And do you know her, Elizabeth?" He wondered. She silenced. "Gotham is full of criminals and ruffians. I advise that you cut all ties with anyone dangerous, Ms. Sorkin."
The woman smirked at him, meeting his eyes again, the dullness long gone. "We're all capable of being dangerous, Mr. Pennyworth."
Alfred closed his mouth, sat back in his chair, broke her gaze. The air in the room seemed to still. "I'm afraid you're right." was all he muttered before standing and stepping out of the room.
Jim followed Harvey out to his car, watched him as he pulled out his phone for the third time in an hour.
"Just call her, Harvey." He groaned. Harvey stopped, turned to the young Boy Scout.
"Right. And seem desperate. No thanks."
"She called you three times, right? Usually people return calls from lovers. Or did you screw this up, too?"
"You're starting to piss me off, ya know that, you little snot-nosed putz?" Harvey stormed toward Jim. "And we're not lovers. I just made things weird."
"Oh yeah, how so?"
His eyes narrowed, teeth grinding. "I stayed over the other night." He huffed.
"But you aren't lovers?"
"We aren't fucking, man. I just…had a few too many and stumbled her way, alright?" he ran a hand down his face. "It was a bad call."
Lizzy hadn't seemed to mind, but Harvey still felt weird about the situation. With the breakfast and the kid there and the have a good day. Shit. This was too platonic for his liking. And yet all he wanted to do was go back to her place, crack open a beer, put his feet up, and tell her how sad it is that he's getting used to having the barrel of a gun pressed against his head. He still couldn't shake off that adrenaline. Felt like a heart attack – felt like empty and regret.
"Just call her. She probably saw the news; probably knows how crooked you are and thought you were gonna be Lamond's next victim." The laugh that came from Jim made Harvey glare.
It was getting late and Harvey was getting a headache from Jim pestering him. "Fine. Okay. I'll call her."
Jim gave him a look, shook his head, "Get some rest." And he walked back inside the station.
For the first time in weeks, Harvey went right home and slept. Crashed right on the couch and was out until a half hour before his next shift. He didn't get to call Lizzy. Essen called him instead – told him something about urgency and a new case and 'get your lazy ass in here before you're fired.' Naturally, Jim was bouncing on the soles of his shoes by the time Harvey pulled up. A murder. Again. This time, it had something to do with Falcone and Maroni and the Arkham deal.
Lately he rarely had a slow day. Just yesterday, they closed the case for the Balloonman and now they were on this?
"Why couldn't Alvarez take this case?" Harvey grumbled after leaving the crime scene at Arkham.
"Come on, this keeps ya sharp, old man." Jim chuckled from the passenger seat.
"I'll kill you."
As soon as Elizabeth got home from her time at the Wayne's, her phone was ringing. Her mind still raced from the conversation she and Alfred had, but she kicked her heels off and ran to answer the phone without another thought.
"Hello?" if it was Harvey, she'd apologize for calling so frequently and tell him that friends look out for friends. Nothing weird.
But the voice on the line was not Harvey's.
"Liz? It's Butch Gilzean," She had a falling feeling. "-from the coffee shop? You remember."
"Yeah, uh…hi."
"Listen. My boss was impressed with you. See, she owns this nightclub. Been lookin' for some new…talent…to bring in. And she's interested in you," Breathe, Elizabeth. Breathe. "You busy tonight? Why don't you stop by and have a drink. We'll talk. Girl like you could use some friends in a city like this."
She should have said no, should have slammed the phone down, pulled the cord from the wall, changed her number. "Sure. Where is this place?"
He told her and they hung up. Told her to wear something nice, so that's what she did. Elizabeth changed into black stilettoes, a black off-the-shoulder wispy dress that ended just above the knee, and applied smoky eye makeup. Everything in her told her to stay home. These people were bad news. But curiosity got the best of her. She'd lived years of her life in fear and Gotham was a new start. She was not going to resort to who she used to be. That girl was dead – long dead – and she had a spine now.
She pulled up to Fish Mooney's club and put on her most nonchalant expression. She was not going to let fear stop her from becoming something powerful. Not again. Butch was holding the door open for her when she arrived. She entered.
His hand was on the small of her back again, making her remember their encounter yesterday, but she pretended that it made her comfortable – pretended that this was merely a friendly visit and these people were not dangerous at all.
The place was stunning. Classy, warm, comfortable. But something felt off.
"Boss! Your guest has arrived," Butch called over the murmur of the patrons. A pretty girl stood on stage, singing a blues tune. Fish didn't stand from her seat, just motioned over with a long finger and that manicured nail.
"Kind of you to join us, Lizzy." Came that posh voice again. Lizzy smiled despite her nerves.
"Turn down an invitation to a joint like this? I'd be daft." She spoke as Butch pulled out her seat. He, however, didn't sit.
Fish snapped and some well-dressed man brought over a drink for her. She didn't know what it was, but it didn't smell like poison and she needed something to calm her nerves. After swallowing a bit down, she recognized it was Jӓger.
"I have an offer for you," Fish leaned her arms against the table between them. "I'm looking for a new employee, if you will. Do you sing?"
Elizabeth almost snorted, "Not well," Fish raised a brow, looking to Butch, then back, "When I say that, don't think I'm trying to be cute. I legitimately cannot sing well."
Fish hummed, looking Lizzy over, then raising her martini, "Cheers," They clinked their glasses and both swallowed back more alcohol. Lizzy drank until hers was gone, then watched Fish motion for more. They came quick. "What brings you back to Gotham?"
"Oh, you know, missed these scummy people," She knew lying would get her into some serious shit, but these people didn't need to know she worked for Bruce Wayne. It was stupid enough coming here to begin with. "And what do you do, exactly, Fish?" This time, she leaned her arms on the table. "Just a humble nightclub owner?" It was the Jӓger talking, but damn did it feel good to challenge this woman.
"Something like that," She replied. "Now you're sure you can't sing?" Elizabeth stared with a dull expression. "Do you like boys or girls?"
Elizabeth paused, taken aback by the inquiry, "Boys."
"Now, this job will make you powerful and respectable. Do you want that? To be like me?" It sounded too good. What did this job even entail?
"Sounds too good to be true." She swallowed more alcohol down.
Fish smirked, "Let me see what you've got," Another look at Butch. "Seduce him." Those long fingers pointed and Elizabeth's eyes followed to the tall man with the soft features. Butch seemed like a nice enough guy. And if she said no? What then?
So she stood slowly, let the dress slip back to cover just a bit more of her thighs, gave Butch a second to look her over from head to toe then back. Every step she took was precise – sharp – until she reached him. Her small hand stretched out and took his chubby fingers. He grasped at it like he was desperate for contact, lacing his fingers around hers. One step closer as she pulled him slightly, leading him to a chair beside them. She could feel Fish's eyes on them, feel the glances from the few patrons that sat in their corner booths and ate and drank. For once, the attention didn't bother her.
Roughly, she pushed the bigger man in the seat, unlocked her fingers from his and slid her hand down his tie, hovering just above his belt buckle. Butch took in a breath. She slipped her legs over his, straddling his thick thighs; never breaking eye contact though he was constantly taking her in. Her hands now found his, raising them gingerly to her hips and letting them wander. Then, she touched his cheek gently, rubbed her thumb across the stubble of facial hair, and stared at his lips while biting hers. As she inched closer to him, her hand ran through his hair. The kiss was deep and needy. She trailed her tongue across his lower lip, ran her hands down until they stopped at his shoulders, and pressed herself into him further. A soft groan came from his throat, which she smirked at. When she pulled away, she could feel Butch hardening beneath her. She gave him a knowing look.
"Well," Fish interrupted her less-than-decent thoughts, "seems to me you know what you're doing. Butch? Any input?"
When she gazed back at the man she was still straddling, she blushed. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth in an 'o' shape, eyebrows raised. He let out half breath, half whistle.
And then there were footsteps. Suddenly Elizabeth felt naked, felt like she'd been doing the dirty right there on the floor. The way Harvey was looking at her sent shockwaves to her core. Fear or attraction, the alcohol didn't let her decipher. What was he doing here?
She stood. The way her dress shifted down on her thighs didn't feel the same – didn't feel empowering any longer.
"Harvey," Fish began as Liz stepped backward. "See something you like?"
His eyes were on every inch of her, but moved on when Fish stood beside her. "Now I do," He was ogling at Fish's less-than-conservative dress. "Wonderin' if you could help me with a case."
Ouch. If that didn't sting…
"Of course, Harvey. For you. Lizzy, have Butch get you another drink." She waved them off like they were children.
Harvey gave her another glance before sitting down, but he looked worried more than anything. Elizabeth followed Butch to the bar and figured now was a better time than any to have more alcohol. What else could go wrong?
"Sorry 'bout all that," Butch rubbed the back of his neck. "Fish has a peculiar way of handling things. Usually she has the girls seduce her," He chuckled. "Guess I was the lucky one this time." He noticed the way she was staring at the two at the table and glanced over his shoulder at them. "What, Bullock? Nah, he's fine. No worries. Won't think less 'a you for all that," He waved it off. "Probably thinks you're a catch!" oh, if he only knew…
Elizabeth was running through everything. The way Fish held Harvey's hand when they spoke, how they leaned into each other once in a while during the conversation. Jealousy was a funny thing – a funny thing she shouldn't feel; she'd been over this time and time again.
Soon, Fish returned with Harvey, "Have you met my new friend Lizzy?"
"Can't say I have." She was shocked at his response. But he kissed her hand and for a second, it made up for it. "Friend in what sense, there, Fish?" he was narrowing his eyes at Butch.
"Possible new hire. If she makes the cut."
"Well, seems to me she's a bit sloshed. Better get home, sweetheart." Harvey sneered and she blushed. "Tell ya what, I'll walk you."
Butch gave her a look that read 'I told ya.' And she hopped off the barstool.
"I'll call you." Fish nodded toward her, but she was too focused on Harvey's arm around her shoulder and the smell of leather.
The wind was cold when they made it outside; colder than she remembered on her way in. Or maybe adrenaline had something to do with it. Harvey let go, stepped away, glared at her.
"Are you freggin' nuts!?"
"Wha-"
"Fish Mooney? Of all employers?" he raised his hands, pulled her toward her car. If she were being honest, she didn't feel the alcohol at all anymore. It was like his yelling sobered her up – gave her tunnel-vision. "I'm telling you – begging you – not to do this. Don't accept that job. Don't talk to her. This is bad news for both of us. How do you even know her?"
She was almost speechless, "I met them at a coffee shop."
"So you stop in to accept a job offer and have a celebratory makeout sesh with her right-hand man."
"Harvey, that's not-"
"Oh, yeah. Yes it is. I saw it all, princess." He spoke with his hands again and she saw a little vein pulsing in his neck.
"She must be trustworthy and safe enough. You go to her."
He slapped his hands against his thighs, "This ain't on me." He paused, "I'm asking you to drop this. No job. No contact. Not a good plan."
Every fiber of her being wanted to ask him what was so wrong with those two. Yes, she'd caught some weird vibes at the coffee shop yesterday, but today felt different. Today felt like she could be powerful, that she could change.
Harvey let her drive home. Followed her, but let her drive. Fuming. He was fuming. Fish and his little talk let him in on some pretty important details about her plans. Falcone goes down, so does Fish – or so he thought. But her 'Plan B' was sitting right beside Butch at that bar. Her 'Plan B' was the one straddling Butch with those pretty thighs and kissing him with those full lips. Fish was looking for a weapon. And that weapon could very well be Lizzy, say she got the job.
So, no, he couldn't let her accept this gig. And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that her kissin' on Butch pissed him off. It had nothing to do with his desperate need to get laid. He wasn't turned on by that. But…maybe it wouldn't hurt to slide himself into some pretty gal tonight and close his eyes and think about Lizzy doin' somethin' like that to him.
By the time he pulled up to her building, he had a hard on. Damn. She parked then ran over with that skimpy dress blowing in the wind and those long legs looking creamy in the moonlight. Shit. He almost remembered to cover his crotch too late. The window was rolled down.
"You can come in for a drink, if you'd like."
Yes. Yeah, come in for a drink and don't leave for the night. Don't have to imagine then. Have the real thing. In that dress, with those legs wrapped around him…
"I, uh, I better not."
She frowned, "Alright." Straightened, "Goodnight, Harvey."
He'd offer to walk her up, but he was at full attention at the moment and she'd notice. As soon as she got inside, he sped off. Home. Shower. Now. So he did.
Quick release, not satisfying in the least, and Harvey was answering his phone with a towel wrapped around his hips – the thing had been going off the entire time he was trying to get off.
"What?"
It was Jim and he needed backup at the mayor's. So, again, Harvey rushed off to save his partner's ass. And, again, he wasn't thanked. If he were being honest, he was thinking about going to a bar and picking up a nice dame. But Jim reminded him that they needed to do paperwork, and there he was at his desk again. Headache, stiff neck, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd done somethin' wrong with Lizzy.
"Perfect." He muttered, chucking his glasses across the table and rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
"Going to the Wayne's place in the morning. You in?" Jim came over to his desk.
"No." he instantly snapped, but thought better of it. Maybe he should. Lizzy would be there. But so would that butler… "Can't, Jim. Got a hot date."
Jim narrowed his eyes, but left him alone after that. Harvey left that night to go drink his worries away. And he did.
