"How is he today?" Gordon asked as Bullock's nurse came out of his room, checking something off of his clipboard.

"He's fine, actually. His head took a lot less damage than we thought. Within a few months, he'll be able to do things normally again." he replied, giving a smile before walking down to another room.

Gordon quickly opened the door and saw Bullock, unwashed hair and thick stubble as he slurped on a yogurt cup. He gave a strawberry-covered smile and sat his cup on the side table as Gordon closed the door. He sat up and watched as Gordon gave a small smile while checking the headwrap across his friend's forehead.

"How you feel, Harv?"

"Fine. Feel like I'm getting whacked with a hammer but it isn't constant." the snarky detective replied.

"Good. Guess that's what you needed."

Bullock nodded with a small smile, knowing he was about to receive some news. Bad or good... he wasn't sure.

"We caught Enigma, man. We got him and that giant croc freak. He's done for." Gordon said suddenly, taking a seat beside Bullock's bed, his hands leaning on the edge.

Bullock raised his eyes high and got comfortable in his new position. He cleared his throat and stared at the ceiling for a moment in relief. He took a deep breath and held it in for a moment, opening his eyes and exhaling in a calm matter.

"Who is he?"

"Nashton. The bastard was right under our nose." Gordon said, his fists tightening.

"Dammit." Bullock said, slowly placing his head against the two pillows behind him. He rubbed his sore eyes and slowly shook his head. In his head, he went over the evidence and how obvious it was. He first reported to the scene at the Harkin Warehouse. He was always gone when Enigma showed up. It all made perfect sense now for his identity. But the motive?

"Why did he do it?" he asked, looking at the captain's eyes with angry intent.

"I don't know. Couldn't get anything out of him. He wouldn't talk. Bastard."

"Done for? Is he dead? You or the Batman?" Bullock asked.

"He's alive, Harvey. Don't worry. The Batman... I'm not so sure. He's been through Hell for awhile now."

"Blackgate?"

"Yep. Trial should be soon. He'll get life. He won't last a week in prison."

"Good. I want the chance to see him one last time before he leaves. He injured a lot of cops and people. I won't let that fly, Jimmy."

"I know," Gordon said, pushing his hand on Bullock's chest as he rose up aggressively.

"But you are fine here. Me and Montoya got it. She's good. She knows what she's doing. I'm glad you suggested her."

"No problem."

"So... case closed, man. We're good. Thank you for all you did."

"Getting my head busted open? You're welcome." Bullock said with his smartass attitude.

Gordon laughed and took his friend's bruised hand in his. He clapped the top of his hand and shook it firmly. He nodded his head and took a deep breath before patting his left leg.

"You're my brother, Bullock. If it wasn't for you giving your life for me... this case would've ended up a lot differently. I love you, man. You're family to me and I need you in this with me. Enigma may be done with... but there's something else coming our way." the captain said.

"Something else? What do you mean?"

"Nashton said that there was a war coming. I thought it was just an empty threat but I saw it in his eyes. He was sincere."

"I believe you. Do you have any leads?"

" A few. I'll keep you updated."

This case was going to be the end of Bruce unless he played his cards right and showed the public who he really was. He fondled the cane in his palm for a moment while thinking and looked at it intently. This cane had been one of the few saving graces in 'proving' that the playboy couldn't possibly be a vigilante who spent his nights hunting criminals by jumping off of rooftops and running across the streets of Gotham on a nightly basis. The cane could actually help the case greatly. The official police report had supposedly shown evidence that before she was shot, Julie had shoved Bruce away, knocking him down. There was no way that someone of Julie's height and weight could knock a man the size of Bruce to the ground without help. The police had used his injury as an excuse. But if he revealed the truth, that whole section of the case would be blown apart. They needed all the help they could get.

"I have a few things here. This will get us through the basic trial. Nothing bad is gonna happen today. Just stick through it." his lawyer said, showing him a binder given to him by his assistant.

"I have a few things, too." Bruce responded, digging in a messenger bag at his side and pulling out three binders worth of material based on the trial.

"Jesus Christ, Brucey-babe! When did you have the time to do all of this?" the lawyer asked with amazed eyes.

"Don't ask. I got full bios on all the witnesses, their jobs, relationships, exactly where they were that night. Everything we need to take them down. They have to be getting paid somehow. Their testimonies will most likely be a complete lie." Bruce said.

The lawyer sat in shock and absorbed in all of Bruce's research. Forget legal teams. His client had one stuffed in his busy head.

"There is something I have to tell you. It's something I have to do in order to catch the real killer."

"What's that?" the lawyer asked.

"It involves perjury. I have to lie about my testimony in order to bring the real murderer into the light." Bruce said.

"Bruce! You absolutely cannot do that! I can get disbarred and you will go to jail. For a long time, even if the jury finds you innocent of Julie's murder."

"I have to do this, okay? Just listen to me. I have a plan."

Two hours later, after rehearsing their 'lines', Bruce's lawyer went to the snack machine to get a small bag of chips to satisfy his hunger.

As the two sat in silence with the lawyer's assistant hard at work, Bruce watched as his former house arrest expert came in the door, escorted by an officer. Bruce tensed up and cleared his throat as the man approached him slowly.

"What's going on, Mr. Strange?" Bruce asked.

"Please..." he said with his hands up.

"Call me Harry."

"Fine... Harry. What's going on?"

"I'm going to be your probation officer. My credentials should help your case, Mr. Wayne." Harry Strange said to Bruce as he sat in the break room before the trial began."

Strange was wearing a straight black suit, the wireless headset gone from his smoky glasses. He wore a very expensive watch but didn't oversell his role as an overconfident businessman.

"How can you do that? What credentials?" Bruce asked as his lawyer sipped on his water thermos.

"Before starting P.R.E.I., I got my PhD in Psychiatry while working at a hospital in Keystone City. I moved back here for my father and inherited his fortune after he passed away. But by law, I am technically responsible for keeping you at Wayne Manor. Obviously that didn't work out, but, I want to help." Strange replied.

"Why? This isn't going to be a pretty case."

"I know that. But I know you did the right thing with Brandon Steele. Or at least tried to."

"And that's why you're helping me?"

"Yes. I know you didn't do it, Mr. Wayne. The evidence isn't clear at all and I met some very surprising people when P.R.E.I. was assigned to you."

Bruce looked at Strange intently.

"What do you mean 'surprising'?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know how to explain it. It was all so rushed. And I don't know why they were there." Strange said, closing and rubbing his eyes.

"What?" Bruce asked, sitting up tight in his seat.

"Come on, Bruce. We need to go. Bailiff's coming back here." his lawyer said, standing up and sliding his chair under the table.

Bruce, Strange, Dabney, and his young assistant, Kate Spencer all walked into the courtroom, avoiding any looks as the many Gothamites looked at them with anger and frustration. They all moved to their seats and breathed slowly as the heat from the crowd's talking made them sweat. Ms. Spencer grabbed her binder from her messenger bag and slid out three stapled documents. Dabney took them and slid one over to Bruce while giving the other to the bailiff who gave him a respectful nod.

"When does it start, Dab?" Ms. Spencer asked.

"Should be any second now. Why do I feel like we're late?" he replied, asking the question to himself.

Bruce could feel the stares on the back of his head. The feeling wouldn't stop until they left.

"The press is going to be here any minute. Just put on a solemn face and look forward. No emotion right now." Dabney told him as they waited at the defendant's desk.

Ironically, the trial was at the Solomon Wayne Courthouse in the Middle District, one of Bruce's earliest American ancestors. It was well over two hundred years old and yet, looked more modern than most. The seats and pews were new. The judge's 'throne' was a marvel of woodworking craftmanship, and the ceiling was high and arched. The entire building was an arena. Bruce was the gladiator. And everyone else was the bloodthirsty lion. The courthouse was packed with nearly a hundred people with all different types of emotion shown on their faces. Police officers, WE employees, previous girlfriends, and other curious/judgemental Gothamites were crammed into the room, all murmuring various rumors and theories. He saw Browning Perry and Lucius in the room along with two other Wayne Enterprises executives. The crowd were anything but quiet, all placing papers across their faces as they whispered hateful things and faux intelligent comments to one another. Bruce could hear every single one of them. He could see Alfred out of the corner of his eye, his face erect and back straight. They were both thinking the same thing. Would they figure out that he was the Batman?

"I know what to do, John. Just act natural as possible even though I'm being wrongly convicted of murder." Bruce replied quietly with aggression.

The lawyer rolled his eyes and looked at his watch in anticipation. John Dabney was famous for handling murder cases where the defendant seemed trapped. But by using various legal loopholes and his slippery language of the law, he always could lower down the client's sentence or get them off completely. In Bruce's case, prison wasn't an option. He needed to get out. People would begin to think too much. Now, Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, had been accused of vigilante action against a known drug smuggler. Didn't sound that different from his alter ego.

Bruce saw Harry Strange walked behind him and sit near Alfred. He turned to Dabney and cleared his throat.

"I still don't understand why he's here. It just seems a little off."

"It's fine. More credibility." Dabney began, pulling out a stick of strong mint gum and handing a piece to Ms. Spencer.

"We got a good thing, going, man. You'll get off. The jury's going to love you. You wanted to know who really killed Julie and did something bad to do something right. You're an unsung hero, Bruce. Plus, you did your research, baby! You're good!" Dabney said with a slight smile, looking at the bailiffs as the judge was about to come in.

Bruce didn't respond, looking around for a moment and locking eyes with Julie's father once again. The wife was nowhere in sight. The trial must've been too much for her. He watched as Thomas Madison looked at him and shook his head slowly before swallowing a large lump in his throat and waiting for the judge. Dabney flicked Bruce's leg and made him face the front of the room again. Bruce took a deep breath and could hear the noise of the door flying open, three different news crews piling him as the prosecutor of the damn world, Harvey Dent walked in heroically. The room was immediately filled with talking and conversations as Dent flipped his tie around and straightened it as he walked to the defense's side. Dabney jumped up with a hypocritical sigh and quickly shook hands with the lawyer, giving a small nod to each other as they returned to their seats. Bruce didn't even look at him, knowing too much anger would be shown visible.

He knew all of the cameras were focused in on him, Alfred, and Julie's parents. This would be the case of the century, no matter the final verdict. Bruce looked at his flattened blue tie and fluffed it out, looking to the left as the judge walked in with an odd look across his face. Bruce and Dabney met eyes and watched him walk to his seat with the rest of the crowd. Dent pushed his blond hair back and looked at Bruce once more with a look of disgust before facing the judge.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Myers." the tall bailiff said.

The hundred or so people stood up at once, the entire room silent yet filled with many negative thoughts and intensity. The judge gave a nod to everyone, not looking at the defense side as he folded his robe and sat down. He cleared his throat and picked up the papers detailing what was going to happen across the trial. He put on his glasses that hung around his neck and scanned the room, finally looking at the defense before staring at the ground for a second. Something was wrong. Judge Myers was infamous for being straight-up and direct. He was known for being solemn and calm at all times. But today, he was obviously flustered. Bruce observed sweat beads on the top of his receded gray hairline and he shook for a second as he put the stapled papers down. There was something else going on.

"What's wrong with him, you think?" Bruce asked Dabney.

"I haven't the slightest idea. He never acts like this and he's been the judge in at least two dozen of my cases." his lawyer responded as the crowd sat back down.

Bruce looked around the room and saw a few police officers who looked the same way. Flustered.

"This is the case number GC6248-1026- BW-002042. Present in the room are Bruce Wayne, the defendant and his attorney, John Dabney, the prosecuting district attorney, Harvey Dent, and Mr. Wayne's probationary officer, Hugo Strange. The case of Bruce Wayne v. the state of Gotham is now in session." Myers slammed down the heavy gavel and with that loud crack, the case begun.

*BTW, have any of you seen the FOX show, Gotham yet? If you haven't and you happen to love Batman, I would greatly advise you to watch it. It's a great idea for a prequel to the Batman saga and I love the way Bullock is portrayed in it. He wears the hat and trench coat, has a bad attitude, all while staying relevant and cool. Donal Logue IS Harvey Bullock.

Sorry, just thought I'd throw that out there.

; )