Weeks passed and with no contact from Selina after their last run-in with the exception of a deal he had made, Bruce turned his attention to the DA's death, the GCPD had closed the case within the week but something about it hadn't sat right with Bruce after that night in December. A second attempt to contact Harvey after Christmas went down worse than the first.
After an apologetic welcome, Bruce tried to get some information from his friend. "What happened?"
"I made him a drink..." Harvey's voice cracked. "The acid was in the decanter."
Bruce listened empathically, but couldn't put his alternative motive to one side, even for a friend. The thought that Maroni might have been innocent for once plagued had selfishly plagued his mind and the one person he could talk to about it was avoiding him for what he was doing to his only other friend right now.
"It's all my fault, Bruce!" He put his head in his hands and began to cry, almost like a child sulking over spilt milk.
After a moment of silence, only broken by Harvey's sobbing, Bruce knew the etiquette and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, assuring him that he was wrong just as Alfred had done more times than he could count. "You couldn't have known, I blamed myself for years, believed there was something that I could have done to save my parents but I was wrong."
He knew he was lying to himself but it might help Harvey if he could bring himself to believe it. "You might not be able to see it now, but you're wrong too and you were right, in the penthouse, so I'm not going to pretend to have liked your father."
Harvey's glassy eyes met Bruce's first with shock, and then a small smile. That was all he wanted, honesty. "I hated what he did to you but I know how much you loved him, wanted him to be better and for that I am sorry. That you will never have the chance to see him change."
In a sort of bro-ish handshake that Harvey had learned at Anders Preparatory Academy, he placed his own hand on Bruce's shoulder, giving it a light shake.
"Thank you Bruce, I needed to hear that." He had told him before wiping a few stray tears away.
"Don't mention it." They drifted into another awkward silence before Bruce decided to test his luck. "So did you speak to Captain Gordan?"
"Yes." He replied hesitantly.
"What did he say?"
"That I'll have escorts until he is sure that I am safe."
"Did he tell you anything about the case or Maroni." Bruce watched Harvey's jaw clench at the sound of his name.
"DON'T..." He raised his voice and quickly slipped the double-headed coin out of his back pocket. Just the feel of it against his palm was enough to calm him down. "...Mention him."
"Alright, I'm sorry, I should have thought."
"Why are you so interested anyway?"
"I was just trying to... I don't even know."
Harvey stared down at his hand as Bruce stuttered for an explanation and began rolling the coin across his knuckles. It was a skill Bruce had questioned him about since the first time that he did it, not long after his mother and brother had died. "Did I ever tell you that my father gave this to me?" Harvey asked, not taking his eyes off of the coin.
Bruce shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
"It was after he hit me for the first time, I remember telling you that I ran into a door, the others laughed at me but not you, you asked if I was okay." He took a short pause as he smiled at the memory. Bruce found it sad how he normalised the abuse in a way he would have never when his father was alive.
"He told me that his father had gotten it from a banker and gave it to him with the promise that he would be better than that banker." In an instant, he was nine years old again, sat on that leather chair he'd never been allowed to sit on. "He gave it to me with the promise that I would be better than him, almost like he knew how bad he was getting, letting me in on the secret, promising that he was going to make my life hell but having the audacity to tell me what I needed to do with my life. The truth is, I hated him Bruce, I still do and I'm glad that he's dead."
It was in that moment, that everything he had discovered began to slot into place. The motive, hydroantimonic acid instead of hydrofluoric being used, Maroni's confidence but without solid evidence, he couldn't believe his conclusion. Harvey may have hated his father but he wasn't capable of murder.
"Jim?" Bruce almost didn't recognise Jim wearing thin frame rectangle glasses. While the whisps of grey had become streaks, a clean shave with the exception of a thick line of hair on his top lip that would look like he ran out of time shaving this morning to anyone who knew him, was his saving grace. In almost a decade as being part of the GCPD he looked as though he had aged almost twice that but the smooth skin gave him a more useful appearance.
"I know, I know," He said, shaking Bruce's hand firmly. "I've already been berated by half of the GCPD."
"No, I think it suits you."
"Well, thanks."
They both took a seat, Bruce in the armchair and Jim hovering on the edge of the couch. "Look, Bruce. I've put off coming here because I am embarrassed."
Bruce raised an eyebrow as he offered up a teacup. "About?"
Jim took it, clasping the side opposite the handle. "How hard I was on you, I let everything get on top of me, but I shouldn't have taken that out on you."
"You came here looking for forgiveness?"
"Not exactly, I received your invitation, eighteen already." He shook his head softly. "I still see you as that little boy, I forget that you're a man now, you don't need my protection."
Bruce sat awkwardly, unsure whether he should say something, thank him, or just do what he was doing now, and keep staring back in a confusion. "Look, the point is, that I'm proud of you, of everything you're doing to help the city." His breath caught in his throat. "With Wayne Enterprises and now carrying on your mothers legacy with the ball... I just needed you to know that, the last thing I wanted was for things to become strained with us."
Grateful. Yes, that is what he felt. He knew that he should feel something more profound, Jim had acted as somewhat of a surrogate father to him for a number of years, just as Alfred had, and he could finally understand that he would have to trust him to make his own decisions or risk losing the relationship they had. It wouldn't be easy but if this hadn't come, Bruce was worried that he'd have to play the brat and cut ties with him for good. His vow to his parents was the most important thing to him and nothing would prevent him from fulfilling it, Alfred could understand but if Jim found out about his late-night activities, he would make it his mission to stop him.
Bruce didn't share his trust in the law or the justice system and it would be their undoing if Jim didn't trust him. Alfred was right about there being more eyes on him than ever when he turned eighteen, he just hadn't expected it to start so close to home.
"Thank you, Jim, it means a lot."
"God." He rubbed his left eye lightly under his glasses, settling into the seat as he leaned forward to look to the floor. "I can't imagine having this conversation with Barbara or James one day, you'll understand when you have kids."
He'd said it with such confidence, Bruce, on the other hand, knew that day would never come. This was his trauma, his vow, his crusade, he wouldn't burden it on anyone else, let alone children. Selina was an anomaly when he had told her the truth he broke his code. He told himself a lie by believing it was for her protection, to keep her safe, if it was then why didn't he do the same for Kate or Harvey. Ra's threatened all of their lives and he was just selfish trying to keep Selina around because of his infatuation with her and as long as he allowed it to control his decisions it was only going to end badly.
Bruce decided to start taking control in that moment. Nothing would hold him back, infatuation, friendship. "I was meaning to ask you about District Attorney Dent's death."
Jim rubbed his mouth with his hand nervously, lmost as if he was saying here we go again in his head but Bruce was ready this time. "Why?"
"I need to know that Harvey will get justice for his father." Bruce made eye contact but his voice remained stoic. "Matches Malone took my parents and my chance to find justice when he killed himself, I just want to know that Harvey won't lose that chance."
A small smile involuntarily pushed Jim's cheeks up and a look of pride washed over his face caused Bruce to feel a pang of guilt in his chest that was quickly washed away by his search for the truth. "Ask away."
"How did you manage to get the confession?"
"We presented him with the evidence and he confessed." Jim said, bemused.
"But hydroantimonic acid was used, that's hardly his calling card." Bruce pressed.
"We never released details, how did..."
Bruce interrupted him. "Harvey told me."
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion for a moment before continuing. "He gave up the supplier that corroborated his story. Then told us how he got it in the house."
"But why? What was his motive?"
After a sigh, Jim spoke no louder than a whisper. "You cannot repeat this Bruce. Not to anyone, especially Harvey."
"Of course."
"He, the DA, was in Falcone's pocket. He realised how much evidence we had, it was his last strike at Falcone's hierarchy."
Bruce was surprised, he wasn't aware Harvey's father had been working for Falcone. It gave him all the answers that he needed. The motive, the means, the acid. So why did it still not sit right with him? It felt too perfect like everything fitted together but he was just looking at the wrong picture. Maroni had every reason to confess, it would seem as though he was cooperating, he'd get a lesser sentence. Like Jim had said, he knew how much evidence they had and besides, he wasn't there to hear Harvey say that he hated his father. He didn't see the look in his eyes. Bruce needed to be sure, he just wasn't sure how he was going to manage it without losing another friend.
Everything, she had everything. She had everything she would ever need and everything that she would never need. An apartment in her own name, rooms rather than an open floor plan, a giant television, every kitchen appliance you could ever think of and so much more from Falcone selling the diamond for her. She was out of The Caudron and up in North Gotham, Otisburg to be specific. She didn't have to worry about unannounced visits from Buzz or worrying about money for months with what she had leftover. She could go straight, get a job in the coffee shop or some shitty store, just like she told Pam she would. So why was she laying on the couch in the middle of the night staring up at the white ceiling when she had a queen-sized bed down the hall?
Nothing felt like it belonged to her, she barely touched anything or went in her ridiculously large bedroom other than to change because it felt like she was squatting again. She and Pam would sneak into apartments like this when the owners went off on holiday, live in luxury for a week before going back to real life but who would have thought that this would be her real-life just a few years later. The couch felt like home, it was one of the only things that she brought from the other apartment.
It was laying in the dark that with nothing to do but think that an idea crossed her mind and the torn piece of paper that had been posted through the door this morning entered her mind.
'You are cordially invited to celebrate the birthday of Bruce Wayne with a charity auction in memory of Martha Wayne'
Bruce! He'd gotten involved, helped when help wasn't required, unknowingly gotten involved in her job and then got pissed when he realised she wasn't this perfect preppy little girl he could idolize. But still, she felt like nothing belonged to her because she owed him. Getting to her feet, Selina rushed out of the living room and down the hall into the kitchen, over to the bin where the two pieces of paper sat precariously balanced on the trash spilling out onto the floor.
As she read over the details of the invitation, she began to formulate a plan to rid herself of her awkward feeling and get Bruce Wayne out of her life for good.