Bruce Wayne/Batman, Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Harvey Dent/Two-Face, Kathy Kane/Batwoman, and all other important characters belong to DC Comics/Time Warner.
I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Rated PG-13 : language; violence, some mature concepts.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Duplicity

Mixed Doubles

"My coin. One side clean and good, the other side scarred and evil. Like my face..." Harvey stared down at it, turning the silver disk in his fingers. He had started his life again in the last weeks, and gotten a new gang together. He raised his eyes to them now, looking at them one by one: harsh, hard faces, the faces of men worn down by harsh, hard lives. And yet, he would have traded any of their faces for his own.

Last was the man who had become his informal second-in-command. Nicky, no last name that anyone knew of, an unattractive character with a cigarette permanently dangling from his mouth, but smarter and more independent than the others.

"If the good side comes up, we hit Eckhart's pawn shop, take the latest batch of stolen goods he's fencing, and return it to the original owners. If it's the bad side... Well, we all know what to do."

All eyes were on him as he tossed the double-headed silver dollar into the air. They all watched as it spun upwards and seemed to hang there for a moment before falling back. Harvey could imagine which side they were hoping for. Doing good deeds didn't pay for new cars, expensive booze, or pretty women.

The coin smacked into his palm. He uncurled his fingers and saw smiles light the faces surrounding him. Good news, for them. Scarred side up. Bad news for their next target.

- - -

She was smiling again. Bruce smiled back. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Kathy said. "It's just that - this is nice."

"The restaurant? The food?"

"No. I mean yes, they're nice, but that's not what I meant."

"I can't think of anything else."

She laughed at him. "I mean having dinner with you, silly. It's been a long time."

"It has, hasn't it? Why is that?"

Another smile, as Kathy lowered her eyes. They both knew why. But, somehow, things seemed to have changed recently. Part of it was Harvey Dent; that crisis had pulled them together. How far together remained to be seen; this was the first time they had gone out on what he could really call a date in... months.

He studied her while she wasn't looking. Wavy, very dark shoulder-length hair, warm eyes, a pretty face, not as glamorously beautiful as Selina but more quietly attractive... He frowned. Why was he comparing them? Selina was out of his life, probably forever. Hopefully forever; her life as Catwoman would only lead to tragedy, sooner or later.

And what about Batwoman? Kathy had done well, so far, but who knew how long it would last? How long before she got hurt, or worse? And she wasn't the only one, the same was true of Dick. Seemed as soon as he made the mistake of letting himself care about someone, they immediately insisted on endangering themselves.

"What's the matter? Something wrong with your dinner?"

She was watching him. Bruce quickly smoothed his face into its usual blandly pleasant expression, and saw her brows twitch briefly with a frown. "No. Just thinking about something at work."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Thanks, but no." How easy it was to slip back into lying to her, the same way he had spent his adult life lying to almost everyone. Alfred and Dick were the only people in the world he could be truthful with. And Kathy? Dick had said she was like them now, and maybe he was right, but somehow Bruce couldn't bring himself to share that most important side of himself with her. He didn't completely understand why; it wasn't as if he didn't trust her - he had told Dick his identity after meeting him only a few times, why was Kathy different? Despite his denials, he knew she had at least guessed, and yet he couldn't take the final step of being honest about it. Probably good old-fashioned fear of commitment, he told himself ruefully.

They walked after dinner, enjoying the night air and a full moon. Bruce didn't hold her hand, but he thought about it, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was a quiet night for this downtown neighborhood, between passing cars he could hear the click of her heels on the pavement.

"Let's get dessert," she said.

"After that dinner? Where are you going to put it?"

"Don't worry about that. Come on, in here."

"This is a bar."

She grinned. "Yeah, but they have great cheesecake. Come on, see how the other half lives."

"Cheesecake... So self-indulgent..."

"Yeah, Mr. Self-control, I'm just a hedonist at heart. Why don't you relax and have some fun for a change?"

He groaned, but there was little choice with her tugging at his arm, and to tell the truth she looked so appealing, like a kid at play, eyes sparkling at the thought of a treat. "I have fun all the time," he protested.

"Yeah, right."

Inside was noisy, crowded, and smelled of food and various varieties of alcohol. A more relaxed and friendly atmosphere than the bars he hung out in when in disguise, trying to catch underworld gossip. Still, he found himself glancing around, looking for anything suspicious, for the familiar faces of known criminals. Kathy's right, he chided himself. Forget about crime for one night.

So he smiled, sat down at one of the small tables near the bar, ordered cheesecake for both of them and even a beer, of which he took only a few sips. He was so intent on Kathy, and on relaxation, that he missed the first few words. Then some instinctive radar alerted him as soon as he heard...

"Matchbook manufacturer Henry Logan has apparently been kidnapped tonight by a group of men who ambushed him on a downtown street just after seven this evening. There were several witnesses who identified one of the abductors as former DA Harvey Dent, now known as Two-Face."

Bruce stared up at the television over the bar. A picture of Harvey before his injury was displayed before the picture switched back to the announcer.

"This crime is the first Two-Face has committed for the last six weeks, since his bold attempted robbery of a movie audience--"

Bruce stopped listening and glanced at Kathy, just as she looked away from the television and met his eyes. Seven. Only two hours ago. Had to pick up the trail before it went cold. This was important enough to contact Gordon on, try to get some information. But first...

"I'm sorry, Kathy, but I-"

"I know. You forgot you have a very important appointment." She was already picking up her purse, and flashed him an impertinent smirk as she added. "So do I."

"I'll drop you off."

"Good."

- - -

Dick breathed a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the couch in the Gordons' small den.

"Was dinner that bad?" Barbara asked.

"No, it was great. Your old- I mean, your father's a nice guy. But I might have been a little nervous."

"I've brought guys home before. He hasn't killed one yet."

"What a relief." Dick watched as she smiled and took a seat next to him, wondering if that reference to former boyfriends was supposed to mean anything.

"Sorry if Dad gave you the third degree. He gets kind of protective, I guess."

"Can't blame him; he's a cop, after all. I guess it comes naturally to him."

"I know. There's times I've wished he wasn't, though, especially when I was growing up. All the late nights, and worrying about him..." She stared pensively at the floor for a moment and then brightened. "But it's better now that he has a desk job. How's it going at Wayne Enterprises?"

Dick shrugged. "It's good."

"What's it like working for Bruce? Hard for me to picture him taking anything seriously enough to run a big business like that."

"He can be serious, when he wants to be." He smiled a little, inwardly, at the thought of endless training sessions, of the way Bruce drove him, and drove himself even harder. Amazing that he could hide his real nature so effectively from almost everyone. "How's your job going?"

"Fine, so far. Interesting work."

"Really? I think I'd get bored poking through databases and websites and books all day."

"That is what a researcher does. I don't find it boring at all. It's like being a detective: following a trail of clues, tracking down leads, trying to figure out what's accurate and what's just rumors or lies..."

Dick could certainly relate to that. "You make it sound exciting," he murmured.

"It is, to me. Of course, I'm only working for a book publisher, now. Be nice if I was doing it for something really important, like law enforcement."

"It must run in the family." They shared a smile.

"What do you want to do now?" Barbara asked after a moment.

He grinned at the first thought that occurred, his eyes dropping to her lips, and saw them curve in amusement. Not that their relationship was much past the point of goodnight kisses yet, or that he would try anything in her father's house, not to mention that Commissioner Gordon himself might walk in on them at any moment. But it was still a nice thought. "I don't know. You want to go out? Catch a movie or something?"

"There's nothing I want to see..." She gave him a look that seemed - inviting. "How about a drive? We could go out to the beach. Take a walk. Listen to the ocean. Look at the moon."

"Uh... sure, if you want to. Sounds great." Maybe things were moving faster than he thought. No complaints. Dick jumped to his feet. "My car or yours?"

"Yours, it's..." But she was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

They both turned to see Commissioner Gordon, his coat on, his expression announcing something was wrong. "I have to go out for a while," he said abruptly.

"Dad, what is it?"

"Nothing for you to worry about. Just something I want to look into personally." He hesitated, and then added, "It's Harvey Dent. Two-Face. He's back. A kidnapping this time."

"Oh," Barbara said faintly. "I understand. Be careful."

"Always am." He smiled quickly, reassuringly. "Don't wait up."

Damn, damn, damn, Dick was thinking as the door clicked shut behind him. Much as he felt sorry for Harvey, he would have cheerfully strangled him right about now for his lousy timing. But there was just no way around it, no way to sit this one out, not when it was Bruce's friend involved.

"Look, Barbara, maybe I'd better go. You're probably not in the mood for - uh - looking at the moon now, and - and I want to call Bruce and make sure he's okay."

Was there a flash of hurt and disappointment in her face? He couldn't tell. "Okay," she said. "I suppose you're right."

"Look..." But what could he say? "I'll call you, okay?"

"Sure."

After a minute and a kiss that was entirely too brief, he was outside, hurrying to his car, when the ring of his cellphone brought him up short.

"Hello?"

"There's a problem."

"I know. Just heard about it."

"Can you come?"

"On my way."

- - -

It was a big house, a mansion really, bigger than the Wayne house but not as well kept up. Fading paint and a garden allowed to run wild spoke of neglect in the harsh light of a bare bulb over a wide and once-gracious porch. They stood outside the circle of that illumination, in the shadow of a circle of trees. As Batman had expected, Batwoman had appeared as soon as he and Nightwing had arrived, and joined them.

"Henry Logan," Batman said in a near whisper. "He manufactures matchbooks, both the plain kind and the specialty ones."

"You mean like the matchbooks you get in restaurants, with their name on it?" Nightwing asked.

"Restaurants, conventions, weddings. Yes." Batman frowned into the darkness. He had met Logan once, as Bruce Wayne, and had no pleasant memories of him. "He's got family money, too. Two-Face will want a big ransom. My guess is he'll approach Logan's company; there's no relatives to go to."

"Then why are we at his house?"

"To see what we can find. Which is why the police are here, although I'm surprised to see them out in force like this."

"So am I," Batwoman said, her slightly nervous glance taking in the police cars lining the street behind them.

The three of them fell into silence as the front door opened, revealing a small group of people. Batman looked them over, noting and quickly dismissing three uniformed officers and two plainclothes detectives whose faces he remembered from other cases. But the last man surprised him. Commissioner Gordon himself. Actually not so surprising, he was here in person for some of the same reasons Batman was, because he knew Harvey Dent personally.

They stayed among the trees, making no real effort to hide, and yet also making no move to attract attention. Over the years, Batman had established a sort of truce with the police, working with them occasionally but never publicly, helping to enforce the law but operating outside it, tolerated but not quite welcomed. In recent months Nightwing and Batwoman had been tacitly accepted into the same tenuous relationship.

Gordon stopped on the edge of the porch, sweeping a penetrating look around the yard, his eyes stopping as Batman moved just enough to let the moonlight catch him. "Go on ahead," he said to his companions in a low voice that carried clearly on the night air. "I have a few things to take care of here."

He waited until their voices and footsteps had faded before leaving the house and walking a few yards towards them. "Well?" he called quietly. "Do you want to talk or not?"

"If I didn't, you wouldn't have seen me." Batman advanced to meet him.

"I know... And I see you've brought the whole gang." Gordon's eyes moved past him, and Batman didn't have to turn to know Nightwing and Batwoman had followed. "I figured you'd show up, since you seem to be after Two-Face."

"Yes, I'm interested in this case. Has there been a ransom demand yet?"

"There has."

"Who did it go to? How much? When?"

"It came here, in the form of a phone call."

"Here? But I thought Logan lives alone."

"He does." If it had been anyone else, Batman would have said Gordon was smirking. "Come on in. For once, I can actually surprise you."

The door was opened by a uniformed officer who did a quick double-take when he saw them, but made no comment, simply standing aside to let them enter. The four of them filed into a large entrance foyer, one which Batman's educated eye told him had once been impressive, like the outside of the house, but which was now unfurnished and uncared for. They followed Gordon down a short hallway, into another room. It might have once been a living room, a very large one where the original owners might have had parties and dancing, but now...

"Holy shit..." he heard Nightwing mutter. Batwoman was staring, her eyes wide behind the mask. Not that he could blame them, for a moment he just looked, speechless.

The room was filled with a bizarre collection of - of statues, or models, or something. Light, airy-looking structures: airplanes hung from the ceiling, a group of globes on columns, a collection of amazingly life-like animals in one corner, cars and trucks in another, a set of large glass bottles containing ships in yet another, a group of amazingly accurate scale models of famous buildings in the middle of the floor. They were all made from the same material, something gray - or tan, or brown, like wood... He took a few steps closer to what appeared to be a bird...

"Matches?" Nightwing exclaimed. "They're all made of matches!" He reached out towards the half-finished model of what appeared to be a train.

"Idiot! Don't touch that!"

They all swung around at the sound of a harsh, querulous voice. Its owner came into view, stumping towards them between the strange statuary on a cane: a middle-aged man with an expression of what was probably permanent annoyance. He stopped and thumped the cane on the floor for emphasis.

"Bad enough to have these police tromping all over my house! Now you bring these masked vigilantes in here! Well, if anything happens to my work..."

Batman abruptly found his tongue. "Henry Logan?" he asked.

"Of course. Who else would I be?"

"But..."

"But the news reports. You were kidnapped. How did you get free?" Batwoman asked, sounding calmer than Batman felt.

"I didn't, young lady. I was never kidnapped in the first place."

"It wasn't Mr. Logan who Two-Face snatched," Gordon supplied. "It was his double."

"Double?"

"Yes, of course," Logan snapped. "Do you think I have time for social appearances, business meetings, and so on? They're nothing but a waste of time. My double stands in for me. He takes care of the tiresome chores, so I can concentrate on my work." He waved a hand to include the roomful of matchstick figures.

"Yeah, I can see this stuff is real important," Nightwing commented just loud enough to be heard.

Batman silenced him with a glance. "It figures," he said. "Two-Face's crimes have a theme. Twos. Doubles. But how did he know he was getting your double and not you?"

Logan frowned. "A couple of years ago my house was robbed. As the district attorney, Harvey Dent was involved in prosecuting the case. I confided in him. And this is the reward I get." He shot a glare at all of them. "I want you to get my double back. It would be inconvenient to have to find a new one."

Batman ignored his own rising irritation. "I don't suppose your double has a name of his own."

"Well, of course he has a name. It's Stanley Ames."

"You've gotten a ransom demand?"

"Yes. A million dollars. A ridiculous amount. To be delivered by my double's wife."

"His wife?"

"She's right here." Logan turned, looked around, and snapped his fingers impatiently. "Come on, come on! Don't keep us waiting."

A woman appeared amid a forest of matchstick trees and bushes, and came forward slowly and hesitantly. She was average in height and weight, plain-looking, ordinary in every way except the impression she gave of attempting to be invisible. That and the reddened eyes and nose that told she had been crying.

"This is Nancy Ames," Gordon said quietly. "Two-Face demands that she deliver the ransom personally. Presumably he assumes we won't try anything with her involved. I think it's too dangerous for her to do."

"No," Mrs. Ames said in an unexpectedly firm voice. "I'll do whatever I have to, to make sure Stanley is safe."

"That's very brave, Mrs. Ames, but we have to consider your safety."

"Yes." Batwoman had moved forward. She stepped next to Mrs. Ames and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I agree that you shouldn't do it. But I have an idea..."

- - -

TBC...