Harvey Dent paced his jail cell, his eyes on his shoes, his somewhat bedraggled hair falling in his face, his expression set in a deep, thoughtful, worried frown. He had not given Gordon very much time to get to the docking facility in the Narrows, and even if Gordon had gotten there in time, there was no certainty that he would have been able to take down the Joker. Dent turned sharply in his pacing, wringing his hands behind his back in agitated anxiety. What if the Joker had given them the wrong address? He was sick and twisted enough to do just that… he would think it was funny.

Dent turned and sat on the bench in the cell, putting his elbows on his knees and running his hands fretfully through his blond hair. "Rachel…" he moaned quietly. Just then, a noise made him look up. A security guard was heading towards his cell, talking to someone who was walking behind him. Dent tried to crane his neck to see who the other visitor was, but the officer soon moved aside to reveal -

"Rachel!" Dent sprang to his feet, crossing instantly to the front of the cell, gripping onto the bars tightly and pressing his face between them to look at her. "Rachel, you're all right! Oh, god, Rachel!" Rachel looked up at the sound of Dent's voice and, seeing him, rushed to the cell, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. He put his hands through the bars and she took hold of them. "Oh, god, Rachel," Dent said again, "I was so worried about you… I'm so glad you're okay…"

"I'm fine, Harvey," she assured him, squeezing his hands.

"God, Rachel, you have no idea…" Dent said, starting to get a bit panicky, "I tried to save you, I went to get Gordon, I was going crazy trying to save you…"

"Gordon came, Harvey," Rachel said with a smile. "Gordon helped save me, he came and untied me…"

"I rushed to get Gordon, and then these police started following me, and it turned into a high-speed chase, but I was just so desperate to save you, Rachel, I'd do anything for you…" Harvey kissed her hand, a little frantic still. "Then when I found Gordon they arrested me… they arrested me for refusing to cooperate with police… Rachel, it was awful… there was barely any time left… they got me with a tazor…"

"They tazored you?" Rachel exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. "My god, Harvey!"

"I tried so hard to save you, Rachel… I tried so hard, but everything just got in the way…" He was close to tears. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Rachel… I tried…"

"Harvey, Harvey!" Rachel said, cupping his face in one of her hands and kissing him on the forehead, "I'm fine! Look, I'm perfectly fine. See, Harvey?" He looked up, sniffing, trying to hold back his emotions, and nodded. She smiled and kissed his forehead again. "See? I'm just fine. Batman came and took care of it -"

"Batman?" Dent looked up suddenly, his voice flat and cold, all indication of tears gone. "Batman came and saved you?"

"Well… yes," Rachel said, sounding a little disconcerted at his sudden change. "Is something wrong?"

"Batman saved you?" he asked again, looking over at her. "I thought you said Gordon saved you."

"Well, Gordon helped," Rachel said. She frowned. "Is everything all right, Harvey?"

Harvey shook his head slowly, looking away. "Batman saved her," he muttered to himself in a shocked undertone. "Batman. Batman saved her instead of me." Then he looked back up at Rachel. "Huh?" he asked. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine… just a little…" He cleared his throat, then smiled at her. "I'm just glad you're okay," he told her, squeezing her hands in his.

Rachel smiled at him. Then, "Oh!" she said, "I almost forgot - Bruce Wayne called this morning and said he would be happy to pay for your bail. To get you out of here. Isn't that great?"

"What?" Dent exclaimed. "No. I don't want Bruce Wayne's money."

"But…" Rachel's smile faded a bit as she stared at him. "But… how will you get out of here?"

"I'll just serve my sentence," Harvey replied, a bit sharply. "I don't want Bruce Wayne bailing me out. I can take care of myself."

Rachel frowned. "How long is your sentence, Harvey?" she asked.

"Not long," he answered tersely. "Because I was doing it for a good cause. That, with good behaviour, and I should be out of here in no time." He frowned at her. "I don't want Bruce Wayne's help. He's just all over the place, sticking himself in where he's not wanted."

Rachel resisted the urge to smile.

"Okay," she said quietly, putting his hand to her face. Dent softened a bit, but still held onto his look of resolute stubbornness. Rachel sighed, taking his hand away from her face. "If you say so, Harvey."

"I…" he began, then stopped, nodding decisively. "I do say so," he told her firmly. "I want the city of Gotham to see that their… White Knight, is a man who goes through with everything he begins, and is willing to take the fall for his wrongs."

"But you were only trying to save me," Rachel said gently.

"But I was speeding," Dent said. Suddenly it all felt very silly, in retrospect.

Rachel frowned. "Okay, Harvey," she said, "you be a hero and wait out your speeding ticket." She let go of his hand, and he frowned deeply in confused irritation. She turned back to look at him as the security guard started to lead her off, offering him a sad, tight smile, then turned back around and let herself be led off.

Dent stared after her for a long moment, then turned back to his cell. "DAMNIT!" he shouted, and delivered an annoyed kick to the bench, only to fall back against the bars in pain, reaching down to hold his hurt foot. He dragged himself up to a sitting position on the bench, hissing in pain, and sighed heavily.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe he should just take Bruce Wayne's money. Everyone else in Gotham had done it.

Then he pushed the thought from his head. If he was to make himself like every other person in Gotham, he would be no better than the criminals, freaks and prostitutes that seemed drawn there like magnets. He set his still-slightly-stinging foot down on the ground and folded his arms, staring at the floor.

He would not become like everyone else in Gotham.

If he were to become like every other person in Gotham, then he would become, in effect, like the Joker.

And he was not about to see himself become the villain.

Breathe. Two-four-six. Three-six-nine. Check your suit, check your tie, check your hair. Are my glasses clean? Oh, man, did I forget...?! No, wait. They're okay. And I've got my briefcase, too.Okay. I can do this....I can't do this.

Shawn paced the length of the GPD parking lot for what may have been the seventh time, running his fingers through his perfectly parted golden-brown hair. This wasn't possible. For the first time in his career, he'd hit a brick wall. He just couldn't do what Mayor Garcia had asked.

He couldn't talk to Harvey Dent.

He looked back up at the police department and automatically took off his square glasses to clean them on his shirttail. He was just going to have to bite the bullet and go for it. His black suitcase, which he brought everywhere during the workday, sat on the curb next to his car; he grabbed it and brushed a few nonexistent pieces of dirt off of it. He straightened his tie, yanked the wrinkles out of his gray suit, shook out his legs, and walked nervously up to the front doors of the station.

Inside, he was directed to a bunch of cells in the back. Shawn blanched. Dent was being kept here? Didn't the police realize that Harvey Dent wasn't some ordinary criminal? He sighed and shook his head, then remembered why he was there. His blood pressure cranked up another few notches as he followed the guard to Dent's cell. Apparently, the man wasn't being considered dangerous; the guard unlocked the cell door and ushered Shawn inside, then left immediately. Probably for a donut and some coffee, Shawn thought. He suddenly didn't have much respect for the Gotham Police.

The thought was blown out of his mind when Dent looked up at him. The moment his blue eyes met Shawn's own, the aide dropped his gaze to the floor. He could already feel his ears burning. "Um...Mr. D-dent, right?" he said, tone cracking nervously. Stupid, stupid, you're being an idiot! "Ahm, Mayor Garcia sent me over here to talk to you." There, that was better. "Ahm, he...he said, 'If you ever pull shit like that again, don't expect my backing'."

Shawn continued staring at the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Then he shrugged and attempted a smile. "Sorry."

Harvey Dent looked up as soon as he heard someone entering the area, and found himself looking at a shy, intelligent-looking, but strangely young businessman, who introduced himself as being from Mayor Garcia. Dent listened attentively, taking note of when the young man met his eyes and looked to the floor. He was a jumpy thing, that was for sure. Timid as all get out. Dent watched him conscientiously, and listened to the message he had brought over with a kind of bitter half-grin.

When the young man was finished with his message, Dent put his hands on his knees and got to his feet, crossing to the bars to better speak with the young man. "Don't apologize," he said with a boxy smile, "you're not the one who wrote the message. Though you can go ahead and tell the one who did that he can take his message and shove it up his ass." He chuckled, grinning at the young man. "Actually, no, don't tell him that…" Dent reconsidered, "I'm probably in enough trouble as it is without further pissing off anybody. We'll just keep that retort as our little secret, okay?"

He looked the young man up and down, scrutinizing him. "Is that the only reason you came here?" he asked. "Geez, Garcia's getting to be a big windbag, isn't he?" He chuckled, then pointed playfully at the young man. "Don't tell him I said that, either," he told him. He grinned. "You're just getting to be my little secret-buddy, aren't you?" he said. He bent slightly at the waist, trying to get a look at the young man's face. "You're kinda secretive, yourself, aren't you?" he asked. "I know there's a face down there… you wanna let me see it?"

When he got no response, he chuckled again, folding his arms and staring out at the young envoy. "Well, I'm sure you've got a name, messenger," he said with a friendly grin. "What's the matter? Bat got your tongue?" He smiled at the pun. "No, but really, it's good to meet someone who comes in here to try to talk some sense, rather than trying to pity me." He reached his hand through the bars to shake the young man's. "Harvey Dent," he said, then added, "but you already know that… old habits, you know."

Palmer looked up, startled, to find Dent's hand right in his face. He took an unintentional step backwards, and just stared at the extended limb for a moment. Then he seemed to catch himself. He quickly put out his own hand and replied, "I'm Shawn Plamer. Er..." He dropped the handshake and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Palmer, that is. The mayor's personal aide."

He looked at the ceiling and sighed, then finally met Dent's eyes. Their bright blue unnerved him again, but he held his gaze. "If I could ask, sir, what did you do?" he asked, keeping his tone respectful and reserved. He nodded at the cell, and flushed again. Maybe it was too personal of a question. He was being too prying, he knew it. But Dent was acting so comfortable around him, even though he was a total stranger and all...

Suddenly, he had a crazy idea. Why not ask Dent out to dinner, or something? He shook his head and frowned at that. That wasn't just crazy, it was stupid. You didn't go around popping out questions like that. It wasn't civilized.

"Shawn Palmer," Dent smiled at the young man's continued shyness, and shook his hand firmly, then let it go. He was friendly, even if he was the mayor's assistant and Dent was not the mayor's biggest fan. He crossed his arms, considering Palmer. "Well, it's good to finally have a name - and a face," he noted, pointing to Palmer, who had finally decided to raise his head to look at Dent. He grinned his signature boxy smile and winked at Palmer. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I don't bite."

He sighed slightly, looking around at his cell. "Well, I know it looks bad," he said, "but, uh, I'm actually in here for… speeding." He looked back at Palmer, and a grin split his face; then he began to chuckle, and then, finally, to laugh out loud. "Oh, how stupid does that sound, right?" he asked, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "Harvey Dent, Attorney at Law, Gotham's White Knight… locked up for a speeding ticket!" He started to laugh again, then looked back up at Palmer.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, taking a deep breath to calm his bout of laughter. "Sometimes I get a little over-enthused about things." He moved closer to the bars, putting a hand on one of them and looking around at his cell. "Ah, well. A little off time is doing me some good," he said, sighing, still smiling. "At least this place is a lot less hectic than work. And there are a lot less nuts here, too." He looked back at Palmer with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "I should be out of here no later than tomorrow, though. All things considered. If things go my way."

He shrugged, taking his hand away from the bar and folding his arms again. "I feel a little reluctant to leave," he said. "Get out of one cell and go straight back into another." He chuckled and looked up at Palmer with a grin. Then he took one hand out of his folded arms and pointed to him, shaking his finger slightly. "I like you," he said, more thoughtful than anything. "You're good people, Shawn Palmer. Maybe one of these days we'll have another chat like this."

He folded his arms again with a slight sigh. "It's a tough world out there, Shawn. - Do you mind if I call you Shawn?" he asked, but did not wait for an answer. "Good people are hard to find in Gotham nowadays, Shawn. Don't let the bad people drag you down. Don't let them make you into one of them. Be the good in all of Gotham's bad." He nodded to Palmer, smiling, then looked away.

"Now that I'm done preaching…" Dent chuckled, "that cop should be around here somewhere… I'm getting pretty hungry. Maybe he'll have doughnuts and coffee again today."

Palmer lowered his eyes. He wasn't afraid of Dent, that wasn't it. It was just that...well...

He scuffed his foot on the floor. Okay, so maybe that was exactly it.

Dent's own open laughter forced a bit out of Palmer; he grinned and half-chuckled. "It's not that bad. I mean..." He paused, and finally smiled again. "No, you're right, that does sound kind of silly." He ducked his head apologetically.

Then he looked up again, and spoke totally without thinking. "Speaking of eating, would you want to grab some dinner once you're out?" He immediately looked horrified with himself, and shifted his briefcase to his other hand. "I mean...um...just for discussing...y'know..." He took a few steps back and looked helplessly at the floor. "Wow, I'm really sorry. Never mind. I'll...um...I'll give the Mayor your regards."

With that, he turned around to leave the station, completely and utterly humiliated.

Dent instantly looked up at the mention of dinner, a little surprised. Had Palmer really just invited him out… on a date? He was a little taken aback. He did not know how to deal with a situation like this. He had never really considered himself a man's man. He had always been more attracted to those of the curvier gender, specifically the woman he had been willing to dedicate his entire life to… Rachel Dawes.

He frowned as he thought of Rachel. She had come in, offering him the money of her very public other flame, and had all but ridiculed him when he had explained to her that he wanted to take responsibility for his actions. And to top it all off, she had been completely at ease with telling him - him, Harvey Dent, who had risked life and limb and gotten himself thrown in prison trying to save her - that she was just fine, and had not really needed him there at all, because Batman had come to save her.

Anger was bubbling up inside of him. The more he thought about Rachel, the worse his opinion of her became. He, Gotham's District Attorney, the hallowed White Knight of Gotham, had proposed marriage to her, a lowly lawyer, and she had told him that she had to "think about it". He fumed at the thought. Then she had the gall to run back to Bruce Wayne and ask for his money. It did not matter that the money had been to spring Dent from prison. The fact that she had done it in the first place made her no better than a common whore.

Then his thoughts started spinning. He had to get back at her somehow… but how? Simply ignoring her would do no good; she would get a little bit peeved at him, but she always had the option of going back to her old flame, Bruce Wayne. There had to be some way he could hurt her, really hurt her. He bit his lip, thinking. Then an idea hit him. What better way than to make her jealous? He looked back up at Palmer, and a cruel grin began to split his handsome face. And what better way to make her jealous than…

He rushed to the bars, holding an arm out of them, towards Palmer. "Wait!" he called. He fixed his expression into his signature, friendly, boxy smile. "Dinner," he said with a wink, "sounds great."

Palmer's feet stopped before his brain actually processed Dent's answer. He slowly turned around, looking very confused, and just stared at the man for a moment. "G-great..." he repeated, then his face lit up with a wild smile.

"Great! Okay! Awesome." He nodded his head to himself, then finally looked at Dent again. "I'll...I'll, um, give you a buzz. Or something." He turned around and nearly tripped over his own feet; his cheeks burned red. Then he righted himself and trotted out of the station, the goofy smile still on his face.

Wow, he thought, sitting down in the front seat of his neat little cruiser with a sigh. Then he repeated it aloud. "Wow." He'd actually done it. He'd asked Harvey Dent, the Harvey Dent, to go out to dinner with him, and...and he'd said yes. Palmer pumped his fist into the air once, yelping in pain as his knuckles connected with the roof of his car. He put the hand to his mouth and scrunched his eyes shut, but the smiled didn't go away.

Things were definitely changing for the better, he thought. He stuck the car into reverse and backed out of his slot with belated ease. As he inched through the bumper-to-bumper traffic towards city hall, he looked up at the clouds dreamily. They seemed sparse today, he decided; he could see little bits of surprisingly blue sky. He only got flicked off once on the roads. Shawn smiled and pulled into his reserved slot in the parking lot. Hell, maybe Garcia wouldn't even yell at him today.

The moment he got inside city hall, though, an irate figure burst out of the Mayor's office. It was Garcia himself. "Palmer, I've been waiting for you to get back!" the man said irritably, tapping his toe on the ground as Shawn set down his briefcase. "What the hell took you so long?"

Palmer aimed his eyes at the floor and pressed his jittery hands together. Well, today had turned downhill pretty fast. He breathed a few times. "N-n-nothing, sir," he answered in a meek tone that seemed to suit Garcia.

"Well, I have a bunch of papers for you to file. And there are some calls you need to take," the Mayor said, eyeing his aide. "So get back to work." With that, he went back into his office. The doors whisked close behind him.

Shawn sighed and sat down at the desk. It figured. His luck could only last a little while.