Harvey sat with Alfred. It was strange, being here, and not the least because he really barely knew the guy. But selfishly, Harvey also found it strange not being a part of the action. The others had left hours before; Bruce had disappeared to do some probably quite illegal things, Rachel had gone off on some mission to help him, and Gordon had finally succumbed to his vast array of responsibilities. Which left Harvey to watch over Alfred.

It surprised him how much he was affected by the older man's attack. It should just be another victim in the long, long list the Joker had been amassing on Harvey's shoulders since the clown had tortured Judge Surrillo to death. Harvey already had spent too many hours lying wide awake in the dead of night, trying to shake off the burden of so much blood on his hands. But while it was a burden, Harvey was also a realist – he knew he hadn't killed those people and he was already doing everything in his power to prevent their deaths. So, in a way, it had become quite easy for Harvey to sidestep the whirlpool of guilt the Joker was hoping would consume him.

But then the clown had gotten personal. Going after Rachel and Alfred. It had shaken him up, but Harvey wasn't blind. All this time, the Joker hadn't truly been going after him, it had always been the Batman. The Joker was trying to destroy the only citizen that had been brave enough to stand up to Gotham's scum.

But the finger-painted monstrosity had failed here. And Harvey was going to make sure the clown never tasted anything but failure for the rest of his life.

They were going to bring the Joker down.

A commotion drew Harvey's attention outside Alfred's door. A couple of policemen were gathered, but his first thought that they were some more guards to protect Pennyworth was quickly quashed when he saw the cuffed and obviously inured man the paramedics wheeled down the corridor. One of Gordon's detectives, Stephens, was deep in a discussion with one of the doctors, but Harvey was able to catch his eye.

Harvey was glad it was Stephens. Out of all Gordon's cops at MCU, Harvey figured Stephens was probably the least corrupt. Which he'd normally say wasn't much of an accomplishment, but Harvey was actually able to find himself trusting Gordon's second. Something he never thought he'd say, but then again, today supposedly even Ramirez had shown she had some loyalty to her boss.

Harvey gestured at the stretcher. "Who's that?"

"Thomas Schiff," Stephens said.

It took a moment before his conversation with Gordon – had it really been just earlier that day – sparked recognition. "What? You found him?"

"The Batman found him. Then threw him off a roof."

Harvey blinked. Then grinned.

..

Gordon was on the rooftop, the signal beaming into the cloud-covered night sky, but it was becoming clear that the Bat wouldn't be gracing Gordon with his presence.

He'd been hoping he'd come, though. Gordon needed to talk sense into his partner, and he wanted to do it as he always had – quick conversations at midnight with a taciturn outlaw. That was what Gordon knew, it was what he could do.

Talking to Bruce Wayne about his nighttime proclivities? That had never been something Gordon imagined himself capable of doing. And now knowing that his escapades were not the amorous liaisons the tabloids gushed about but instead methodical vigilantism somehow made it worse. Two of his coworkers were blending into one, and Gordon didn't know whether either relationship would survive the shift. He and Bruce had a threadbare beginning of a friendship, and he and the Batman had a solid partnership based on anonymity. He didn't know if either Bruce or the Batman were ready for Gordon to know the truth.

After all, Gordon knew he wasn't.

…

Harvey hustled up the stairs to Rachel's apartment, grateful the media hadn't decided to swarm her here.

Rachel smiled as she let him in, but Harvey could see that the day was finally taking its toll on her, the adrenaline and determination that had kept her going giving way to pain and exhaustion.

Harvey knew just what would cheer her up. "Did you hear the good news?" he asked as she settled gingerly down on her couch.

"What news? About Alfred?"

Okay, so that would have definitely been the better news. "No, he's the same. Visiting hours are over, even for Wayne's entourage." But he moved on to brighter topics. "But we've got Thomas Schiff; the Batman captured him."

Harvey was surprised when Rachel's expression darkened, but he continued on. "I saw them bring him into the hospital. Lucky break for us. Stephens is going to let us know when he's coherent enough to talk."

"As if that will be helpful," Rachel muttered with a groan.

She was in pain. Harvey knew she would overexert herself; he should never have given her his car keys. "What do you mean?" he asked as he headed to her kitchen.

"He's a paranoid schizophrenic, probably off any medications he should be taking, and having been brainwashed by the Joker. Having him under arrest is a dead end. We wanted to get him to lead us to the Joker."

Harvey handed her the ice pack he'd grabbed. "I'm sure the Batman found something-"

"Please don't try to defend his actions," she cut him off even as she gave him a grateful smile for the ice.

"The Batman's?" Harvey slowed down, knowing he'd have to be careful during this conversation. He didn't want to let Rachel know he knew. He was more than fairly certain she was well aware of the truth, but Harvey would wait until he was one hundred percent certain that she knew. And of course, not until he'd had some fun with the knowledge as well. "Why not?"

"He threw a man off of a building!"

"That's complete conjecture," Harvey brushed it off as he sat down across from her. "Schiff could have been drunk and thought he was on the ground floor. Or maybe the man jumped and the Batman was just trying to save him. All we know for sure is that Thomas Schiff fell three stories from a rooftop upon which the Batman was standing. Next to the ledge. With a hand previously wrapped around Schiff's throat."

Rachel threw the ice pack at him. "Harvey, please take this seriously."

"I am. The Batman did what needed to be done."

"Stop idolizing the man. Attempted murder is not heroic at all."

"I'm willing to bet that if the Batman wanted Schiff dead, he'd have been able to do it."

Rachel leaned her head back, her eyes closed. "Fine. You and I both know the Batman isn't a cold-blooded killer, but there are still some lines he shouldn't cross."

Harvey loved her, but sometimes she just didn't get it. "Rachel, you were almost blown up today. And all you're upset about is that a vigilante might not have the strongest of moral codes?"

Rachel opened her eyes. "Okay, it sounds a little ridiculous when you put it like that, but it's just…I'm worried about him."

"The Batman."

"He has to be careful."

She still wasn't getting it. But then again, she'd always fiercely guarded her idealism. "People are dying every day, for no other reason than that the Joker likes taunting us. The Batman isn't going to just sit around and watch the city die, all because we can't get a search warrant."

"And if he does end up killing someone the next time?"

Harvey settled back. "It'll most likely be a bad guy, so I'd say justice is served."

Her brown eyes drilled into him. "You're the district attorney, Harvey, you can't afford to joke like that."

"Who said I was joking?" He was starting to rile her up, he could tell.

She leaned forward with a hiss of pain. "You do remember that killing someone before they've had a trial is vengeance, not justice, right?"

"Who says?" he threw back, bringing all his skills as a trial lawyer to bear. Oh yeah, she was definitely annoyed now.

"How about the system that you work for and are honor-bound to uphold?"

"The legal system." Harvey finally dropped the act. "The one that's constantly being modified and revised as it becomes outdated? It does not have the final word on morality."

Rachel huffed out a breath, but then her irritation seemed to fade away. She looked over at Harvey, a quiet, almost sad amusement in her eyes. "So, you think my justice system is broken."

Harvey studied her. "You're quoting somebody, aren't you?"

…

Bruce had finally called it a morning and made his way back to his penthouse. The Batman's night of retribution was over, now it was time for Bruce to handle the cleanup. The doctors at Gotham General said it was still far too early for any promises, but Bruce was determined for Alfred to recuperate at home, not in some stale, depressing hospital bed. It was time to get the ball rolling on that.

Which was a little hard to do when he would usually leave it to Alfred to sort all this out. Bruce smiled a little to himself, but that smile faded as the elevator doors let him out on the penthouse and he saw who was waiting for him.

"Lieutenant."

"I apologize for barging in, but your doormen just waved me on up." The detective stood as he quietly mumbled his apologies. "I would have yelled at them for their deplorable lack of security, but then again," he gave a small smile, "it got me up here."

"My guards know to allow you access," Bruce explained as Gordon followed him deeper into his home.

"I don't mean to take advantage," was Gordon's predictably self-effacing response. A pause and then: "May I ask what all this…is?"

Bruce looked to see what Gordon was pointing at. Oh, the entire room; he'd started to forget about his living room's transformation. "Harvey's hired the Russian ballet to perform here in a few weeks."

Gordon gazed around the room. "Because he hasn't seen them dance yet," he mused.

Bruce explained. "I'd bought him tickets, but then he had to go and start that riot right outside the theater. So, no, he hasn't, but I'm pretty sure he's also doing it just to annoy me."

Gordon didn't appear to hear him, his eyes unfocused as he continued to fill in the blanks in the story. "And before that, Harvey didn't get to see it, because you hired out the entire ballet to go on a cruise with you."

Bruce grinned at that; Alfred sure knew how to come up with some memorable alibis, even Gordon remembered that one. And Bruce was pretty sure Gordon tried to block out any and everything related to Bruce's playboy ways.

Gordon's eyes met his. "And you went on the cruise, because Harvey needed you to go to Hong Kong to get Lau."

The words sank into silence.

Bruce didn't move a muscle, forcing a relaxed bewilderment into his expression. He had no idea what Gordon was talking about.

With the smallest of smiles – an attempt at reassurance, Bruce instinctively knew - Gordon dropped his gaze. He took a few steps away, turning slightly, his attention apparently captured by the scenery the ballet company had brought.

It took a moment, but finally, Bruce had to concede. "How?"

"Alfred," Gordon explained with a small shrug. "The Joker attacking him didn't make sense, unless…" he gestured at Bruce.

"Right," Bruce grimaced. Just what he needed. "Well let's hope the press doesn't figure that out."

"I don't think they will, but if you're so worried about that, how do you explain your stunt this evening?"

Bruce stiffened. "I caught Schiff for you."

"Why did you drop him off the roof?"

"Because Alfred raised me to be nice." There was danger in his words and he knew Gordon heard it.

"But I think that's the problem," Gordon said quietly. "He didn't."

Bruce's eyes hardened, but Gordon continued on, almost apologetically. "Alfred didn't raise the Batman. And I don't think Bruce Wayne's personal feelings are supposed to be entangled with the Batman's…mission."

For such a mild-mannered persona, Gordon had a way of being piercingly direct.

"But why not?" Bruce pressed back. "Because the Batman's not a killer?" Gordon knew that was a matter of semantics, no matter how much Bruce tried to honor his one rule.

"Because the public believes the Batman is not a killer."

Bruce didn't have a quick response to that.

Gordon's voice quieted. "There's already enough people out for your head, Bruce. Don't add to that. Not when it's unnecessary."

Bruce wanted to rage against it; after all, the Batman wasn't supposed to be worried about popularity. But. Well, he supposed the man made some sense. "Understood."

Gordon stared at him for a moment, seeming to gauge his sincerity. After a beat, he nodded.

They lapsed into a silence. For Bruce, it was starting to truly sink in. Gordon knew.

It was a surprise. He and Alfred had talked through certain scenarios: if the Joker revealed his identity, if some reporter got incredibly lucky, if Bruce managed to lose a fight. But in all of their imaginings, Gordon was never brought up. Bruce knew he would never betray him to his superiors even if he did find out, so he'd never truly prepared himself for this eventuality.

Gordon knew.

It was oddly…freeing.

Well, Bruce revised, for him anyway. Gordon had gone back to looking awkward around him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Gordon turned to him in surprise. "Me?"

"With knowing." They'd gotten into a comfortable routine, the Batman and Gordon. And as schizophrenic as it might sound, Bruce didn't want to get in the way of that.

Gordon's gaze flitted away. "I'm not a good actor."

So that was all it was. Bruce felt his own tension ease. "You'll be fine."

A shaky exhalation. "I hope so." Gordon met his eyes again. "Bruce, I just want to say – I wish you didn't have to do this.

And thank you."

..

So, yeah, that morphed into eight months. I am so sorry, guys, I hope never to let that happen again. Thank you so much for your patience. We're in the home stretch, I promise. : )