"Harley, this is a wonderful surprise!" exclaimed Dent, standing up and beaming at Harley as she entered his office.
"I just stopped by to see if you wanted to get lunch," said Harley, as he kissed her cheek. "If you're not too busy, of course."
"I'm just finishing up, so your timing is excellent," said Dent, smiling at her. "I'll get my coat."
Dent's intercom suddenly beeped. "Harvey, Commissioner Gordon is on the line," said Dent's secretary. "He says it's important."
"Thanks, Grace," said Dent. "I've got to take this, Harley – excuse me for one second," he said, picking up the phone. "Commissioner, hello. Did he? Well, good," he said, but Harley noticed that while his tone was light as he said this, his face was clouded over with sudden anxiety. "Did they talk? Yes, I'll be…right there to take their statements."
He hung up the phone. "That sounded important," said Harley.
"Yes, I have to go to GCPD," said Dent. "It shouldn't take long…"
"I'll come with you," said Harley. "There's a nice café around the corner from the station – we can get lunch there when you're done."
"That'd be nice," said Dent, smiling. "But I don't want you to get bored waiting for me…"
"I doubt anyone can get bored at GCPD, especially not a psychiatrist," said Harley, grinning. "There are always interesting criminals to talk to."
They both piled into a cab, and Harley noticed that Dent still looked worried. "Can you tell me what this is about?" she asked, gently. "You seem concerned."
"It's nothing, just…Batman dropped a couple of Valestra's guys off at GCPD last night," said Dent. "They've just regained consciousness and need to be questioned."
"And you're worried about the ethics of being helped out by a vigilante, huh?" asked Harley. "I don't think you should be, Harvey – I don't like the Batman anymore than anyone else, but anything that helps bring down Valestra has to be good, doesn't it?"
"Of course it does," said Dent, smiling at her. "God, you don't know how much I need a sensible woman like you in my life, Harley," he said, taking her hand. "I'm sorry if that sounds desperate…"
"It's sweet," said Harley, smiling. He smiled back, and then tentatively planted his lips on hers in a tender kiss. Harley returned it, savoring the knowledge that this man, this handsome, successful, good man was kissing her.
They entered the station lined with cells, and Dent headed over to the Commissioner's office, knocking on the door.
"You're too late – they already called their lawyers," muttered Detective Bullock, opening the door. "I was hoping we'd have a lot more time to beat 'em, although Batman already did a pretty good job of that, thank God. Oh…just a joke, ma'am," he said, noticing Harley.
"I'm not interested in beating criminals, Bullock," retorted Dent. "I'm just interested in hearing what they have to say."
"They're in the interview room - let's go," said Gordon, emerging from his office. He paused when he saw Harley. "Oh, who's this?"
"This is Dr. Quinzel, a psychiatrist and…woman I'm seeing," said Dent, smiling at her. "We were going to lunch when you called, and she wanted to wait for me to be done here. Harley, Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock," he said, introducing them.
"You're welcome to watch the interrogation, Dr. Quinzel," said Gordon, shaking her hand.
"Is that strictly legal?" asked Harley.
"Well, you're a psychiatrist," said Gordon, shrugging. "It might be useful to get your opinion on this. And it'd be better than waiting in the lobby – you don't want to see the kinda riff-raff we get in here."
"All right," said Harley. "Why not?"
"It's a fake mirror, so you can see through it, but they can't see you," explained Gordon, nodding at the window into the interview room. "You should be able to hear everything too."
"Wish me luck," said Dent, kissing Harley again as he, Gordon, and Bullock entered the room.
"Mr. Sol, Mr. Bronski," said Dent, taking a seat across from them. Harley looked into the room to see two rough-looking men, who looked like they had been involved in a horrible fight – they had broken bones and bruises all over their bodies.
"Your pet bat did this to us," spat Buzz. "My lawyer's gonna have a field day with that kinda police brutality."
"The Batman has nothing to do with us," said Gordon. "We certainly don't control him or his actions."
"You just take his help when it's offered, huh?" demanded Chuckie.
"If he's handing us scum on a silver platter, why would we refuse?" asked Bullock.
"Tell us what you know about Sal Valestra, and we'll see what we can do about your sentences," said Dent.
"I ain't a squealer," retorted Buzz.
"Snitches get stitches," agreed Chuckie.
"You already got stitches, pal," retorted Bullock. "So you might as well talk. Your boss is going down, and loyalty to a loser is just pathetic."
"Look who's talking," retorted Chuckie, smiling.
"I don't like your tone, creep…" began Bullock, starting forward.
"Bullock, no!" snapped Gordon, holding him back. "This has to be done by the book! We can't give the lawyers any excuse to release 'em!"
"Having the Bat bring us in is all the excuse we'll need," retorted Buzz with a grin. "Ask the DA here – it ain't legal, is it, Harvey, having some vigilante thug hauling us in?"
"I'd need to know more about the circumstances of the arrest," muttered Dent. "A citizen's arrest is legal when a felony is being committed."
"We weren't doing nothing wrong, and he came outta nowhere and attacked us!" snapped Chuckie. "That's assault, Harvey! I know my rights, even though the Bat never told 'em to me!"
"Of course you know 'em – you been in and outta prison your whole life," retorted Bullock. "Too stupid to learn your lesson though, huh, Chuckie?"
"Why don't you go knock off a donut shop, pig?" demanded Chuckie, spitting at him.
"You got something on your lip there, Chuckie – lemme get it for you," said Bullock, raising his fist again.
"Bullock!" repeated Gordon, grabbing his arm. "Just calm down!"
"You can't hold us, pigs," snapped Chuckie. "You got nothing on us. Nothing."
"And we ain't telling you nothing," agreed Buzz.
Dent opened his mouth to respond when there was a knock on the door. "The lawyer is here," muttered a police officer.
"Send him in," sighed Dent. Both he and Harley were stunned when Jack Napier entered the room. "You're a practicing lawyer now, Mr. Napier?" asked Dent, skeptically.
"No, the law's just a little hobby of mine," chuckled Jack, puffing on his usual cigarette. "I've just been sent to make sure this little misunderstanding is ironed out without any unnecessary complications," he added, smiling at Dent.
Dent said nothing, but stood up and popped his head out of the room. "Harley, why don't you go to the café?" he muttered. "This could take awhile."
"I'd like to watch – it's very interesting so far," said Harley.
"And I'd like you to be as far away from Mr. Napier as possible," replied Dent. "Just do this for me. Please."
Harley nodded slowly, heading out of the police station. While it was sweet of Dent to be protective of her, a small part of her couldn't help wondering if he was sending her away to prevent her seeing or hearing something she shouldn't. She had been shocked at the casual violence threatened by the police officers towards the criminals – Harley had no great sympathy for them, but they did have rights under the law which did appear to have been violated. But Dent was the lawyer, not her, and it was better that she stayed out of it, she reasoned, as she ordered a cup of coffee and took a seat in the café across the road.
About ten minutes later, a familiar figure strolled into the café and also ordered a cup of coffee. Harley avoided Jack's gaze, but she wasn't surprised when he took the empty seat across from her, removing his hat and lighting up another cigarette.
"Bought you a cupcake," he said, pushing a plate toward her.
"I don't want it, thank you," said Harley.
"You might yet - Harvey will be awhile," he said. "He has complicated things to discuss with the cops, but I'm confident they'll make the right decision eventually."
"Which is?" asked Harley.
"Letting the guys go," said Jack, smiling as he puffed out a cloud of smoke. "It was a false arrest at the hands of an unstable vigilante who assaulted them without probable cause."
"But they are criminals?" asked Harley. "They have a record?"
"Oh yeah, as long as my arm!" chuckled Jack. "But still, rules are rules, and they have to be implemented fairly. We can't let people take the law into their own hands, now can we?" he asked, stirring sugar into his coffee.
Harley said nothing. "Mr. Valestra was most displeased when he heard about the arrests this morning," continued Jack. "He wants me to take this Batman out so he can't cause any further trouble."
"And will you?" asked Harley.
"I'll certainly try!" chuckled Jack. "I'm a helpful guy, what can I say? Of course Harvey was supposed to be keeping the Bat away from Mr. Valestra and his crew, but when he fails, I guess I have to pick up the slack."
"Harvey doesn't work with the Batman," retorted Harley. "He told me last night – he doesn't respect him at all. Thinks he should take off the mask and put on a uniform."
"Well, where would be the fun in that?" laughed Jack. "I get it, I do. I think the Bat and me are kindred spirits, guys who can't play by the rules and enjoy hurting people. So it's kinda a shame I'll have to kill him – in another life, we could probably be best friends!" he chuckled.
"Yes, two lunatics should really get on like a house on fire," retorted Harley.
"Is that really your diagnosis of me, Doc?" chuckled Jack, sipping his coffee.
"I don't know you well enough to be sure," replied Harley. "And nor do I wish to. But you certainly display some psychopathic traits."
"Like what?" asked Jack, grinning at her.
"Superficial charm," retorted Harley. "No remorse or empathy. Tendency to lie…"
"I ain't a liar," interrupted Jack. "So far those traits you've listed describe your boyfriend, though."
"Harvey has incredible empathy – that's why he's devoted his life to cleaning up this city," retorted Harley.
"I think he's done that for completely selfish reasons," replied Jack. "Because he needs to be loved and adored by the masses. I don't know if his Mommy just didn't hug him enough when he was a little boy, or if it's something more pathological than that, but he's doing all this for himself, not to help people."
"Another trait of psychopaths is their inability to distinguish right from wrong," replied Harley. "So it would make sense that you can't see Harvey doing things for the right reasons. You probably can't even understand what those are."
"Well, let me tell you what I think right and wrong is," said Jack, puffing out his cigarette. "Right is being honest with yourself and others, which Harvey ain't. Right is not hiding your true face, which he does behind his charming DA mask. Wrong is pretending to be a crusading do-gooder while collaborating with criminals. Wrong is calling up said criminals to let them know when Falcone was going to be transferred to Arkham…"
"Harvey never did that!" exclaimed Harley. "You're lying!"
"I told you, I ain't a liar," replied Jack. "But you can ask him. Ask him about that, and about working with Batman. See if you can tell when he's lying – that'll bode well for your future life together. After you're married and he's telling you he stayed late at the office, you'll be able to tell when he lies about that too…"
"Please go," interrupted Harley.
"I'm just trying to prevent you from making a big mistake, toots," said Jack. "You shouldn't get more involved with him than you already are. You'll regret it if you do. You'll regret being taken in by him when the mask slips off."
"Why should I believe you?" demanded Harley. "I know you have ulterior motives in this, even though I'd never become involved with you in a hundred years."
"I can't give you a reason," said Jack, shrugging. "But I told you last night, your gut knows. Your rational, sensible self is telling you I'm a liar, but I think you know who the liar is, deep down inside. Harvey was very anxious about this arrest, wasn't he?"
"Of course he was," retorted Harley. "Trying to take down Valestra is enough to make anybody anxious. He's a dangerous, powerful man."
"He was anxious that the boys were going to talk," said Jack. "He was anxious they were gonna reveal his little secret in the hopes of striking a plea bargain. The boys are smarter than that though – they know if they keep silent, Harvey will get 'em released. Which he is."
"You must think you're very clever, trying to sow doubt in my mind about Harvey," said Harley. "But it's not going to work, Mr. Napier. I trust Harvey. He's a good man."
"Just the sort of man for a good woman like you, huh?" chuckled Jack.
"That's right," agreed Harley, nodding.
"Never seen the appeal in good myself," replied Jack, puffing out his cigarette. "Being bad is so much more rewarding, both personally and professionally. You should try it sometime. Once you get a little taste of it, you never go back, which I guess is why you haven't tried it. You're afraid you'll like it too much."
"Actually, it's because I've never been attracted to it," retorted Harley. "I've truly never seen the appeal of doing things I know to be wrong. That's psychological suicide, and I'm too well versed in that field to do something so deliberately stupid. It's easy to avoid surrendering to temptation when the temptation isn't there."
"So you're saying I need to tempt you," chuckled Jack. "Challenge accepted, toots! Sure I can't tempt you with a little cupcake, cupcake?" he asked, pushing the plate toward her again.
Harley looked at it. "I'm supposed to be meeting Harvey for lunch," she said. "But if he's going to be awhile, I am a little hungry," she added, picking up the cupcake.
"There you go – surrendering to temptation already!" chuckled Jack. "Nobody can resist it! Because once the offer's out there, it's impossible to resist it. Your brain just fixates on it, and you keep thinking 'What if it's really good and I'm missing out on it?' Or 'What harm would one little cupcake do?' And the answer is none at all, as long as you enjoy it. And you would enjoy it, toots."
His hand slid onto hers, and Harley's rational mind urged her to pull it away. But she didn't – his touch was warm, and sent a million bolts of electricity shooting through her body. She felt herself flushing, and her breathing sped up as she met his eyes, losing herself in their desire. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. His lips were soft and warm, and she shuddered as her body tingled involuntarily, wondering what feelings those lips would awaken on other parts of her flesh…
"You need to leave, Mr. Napier," said a voice, startling Harley. She looked up to see Dent glaring down at Jack, his eyes burning hatred. "I believe that's my seat."
"Of course, Harvey!" chuckled Jack, standing up. "What was your verdict on the guys?"
"The men are being released," muttered Dent. "The arrest won't hold up in court. But they need to watch themselves in future, and so do you."
"Oh, I'm always careful, Harvey," replied Jack with a grin. "Your girlfriend here was just telling me all the ways in which I'm a psychopath – is being careful one of 'em, toots?"
"It can be," murmured Harley.
"Careful about hiding your true nature, I guess," agreed Jack. "That's how those kinds of people are often so successful, I suppose. Lots of psychopaths in high places, politics, business, law, isn't that right, Harley?"
"I've asked you to go," interrupted Dent, before Harley could respond. "Don't make me ask again."
"Or what?" asked Jack with a smile.
"You'll live to regret it," retorted Dent.
"Very forceful – I'm terrified," replied Jack, grinning. "See you around, Harv. Toots," he added, tipping his hat to her as he placed it back on his head and sauntered out of the café.
"He won't be seeing you around," growled Dent, taking his seat. "Not ever again. I'll make sure of it."
"How did things go in there?" asked Harley.
Dent sighed, reaching for a cigar. "We had to let them go," he said. "The case would have been thrown out, since the circumstances of the arrest appear to be as they said. They were hanging out at a bar, and when they left, they were dropped down on by this Batman guy. He attacked them without provocation."
"How did he know they worked for Valestra?" asked Harley.
"I don't know," said Dent, shrugging as he lit his cigar. "Maybe he stalked them or something."
Harley studied him, trying to determine if he was lying. "Mr. Napier said you were working with the Batman," she said at last.
Dent snorted. "And you believed him? I'd never work with a freak like that – I told you what I think of him."
"Yes, and I told Mr. Napier that," said Harley, nodding. "He just went off about masks again."
"Freak," muttered Dent. "He and the Batman deserve each other if you ask me. Hopefully he'll bring Napier in next, just to get the clown out of my hair. I don't care if the arrest wouldn't stick – I'd bend the law and twist the truth just to keep him inside somehow."
"Would you?" asked Harley, studying him.
He smiled. "Just a joke, sweetheart," he said, kissing her cheek.
"Hard to tell if you're joking," replied Harley. "You have such a naturally serious face."
"It lets the criminals know I mean business," retorted Dent. "But I'll try to be less serious around you, how about that?" he added.
"Good. I like a joker," said Harley, smiling at him.
Dent stared at her. "Why…did you say that?" he asked, slowly.
"What?" she asked, puzzled. "I like a joker? It just means I like funny guys. Why?"
"Nothing, it's just…Mr. Napier's nickname is the Joker," said Dent, smiling in relief. "I just thought for a second you might have meant you liked him…"
"Now that is a joke, Harvey," interrupted Harley. "I can't stand the guy."
"Good," said Dent, kissing her again. "Very good. Now let's get lunch – I'm starved."