Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything Batman related. I believe DC Comics does.
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It is Wednesday morning.
Gordon and I are stuck in the midst of downtown Gotham traffic.
Awful Traffic.
The sun is stretching outward into the cerulean sky from its long slumber through the night. Its light rays tickle the windows of the corporate buildings, lighting up Gotham's early hours. Cool morning air is wafting in through my opened window; it is seven thirty a.m.
"So about my car," I question, "what's wrong with it? Why didn't it start the other night? And why can't I use it?"
"Eva," Gordon exhales, "I don't know, we'll get it checked out, but in the meantime, use that motorcycle."
I grumble and mumble, "Okay."
I wish I had my car.
I barely have time to think about it until Gordon changes the subject.
"So, Eva," Gordon says to me, facing forward with his hands on the leather steering wheel, "You do understand why I am making you talk to the D.A, right?"
My stomach twists itself into a nervous knot.
Gordon had set me up with an interview, well more like a nicer interrogation, between me and Harvey Dent, Gotham's new DA. I am incredibly nervous and I can feel my stomach acids churning with anxiety.
I never do well with lawyers.
"Yeah," I mumble to Gordon, wringing my tiny hands, "yeah, I know why. But can you please come in there with me?"
Gordon smirks while still facing forward.
"You're a big girl Eva, I'm sure you can handle this yourself. Dent isn't a monster."
I let out a sigh of defeat and look out the window.
Gordon had already gone over the plan with me before we left his apartment. He had told me that I was to go in, find Dent's office on the third floor, and tell his secretary that I am here for the interview on Ilia Rendell.
The rest of the car ride downtown is pretty quiet; neither Gordon nor I spoke a word. Soon, Gordon pulls into a pleasant parking lot, a lot nicer than that of the GPD's or Gotham's Finest Apartments.
"Alright," Gordon is now looking me through his glossy spectacles, "I'll be waiting here for you. Good luck, Eva."
I nod and grin amiably as I leave Gordon's car. As I do, a sharp pain electrifies my side. I gasp and stumble a bit.
Stupid bullet wound.
When I walk up to the building, I find security guards standing out front. They are intimidating, but far from what I have encountered lately. I greet them subtly, flash my I.D. badge and allow me to pass. I soon find myself in the lobby; it clean and grayish in color.
It is also very professional in appearance.
Directly at the end of the professional lobby there is a stainless steel elevator.
I listen to my high heels collide with the ground relentlessly as I approach the elevator. When I reach it, I punch the "up" button with my thumb. The doors soon open with and I step inside, pressing the three on the inside wall of the elevator to take me up so I can meet with the D.A.
When the doors open there is what looks to be the corporate world of the law. I am standing in a large hallway dappled with offices along its sides. At the very end of the large hallway, I see a closed door labeled District Attorney.
I reach it soon enough.
I am so nervous.
Calm down.
I knock and twist open the doorknob at the same time. I scan the room with my nervous eyes, there is no Harvey Dent. Instead, there is a front polished desk to greet the guests. Behind it is a woman, young, she looks about nineteen years of age. The wall to ceiling windows behind her permit the sun to shine in and reflect of her pale blonde hair. She works diligently on what looks like paperwork.
She is probably just a temp.
I approach her, my shoes clacking on the tile as I walk. However, as I approach her, I see another door on the far side of the small office. That must be Harvey Dent's office.
"Hello," I greet softly to the pastel blonde.
She looks up with wide dark blue eyes.
"Hi," she says quickly, non -smiling.
"I have a meeting with Harvey Dent. I'm just kind of getting the gist of this place, so do I just sit and wait?"
"Uh-yeah," she says rapidly.
Okay…
I find a plastic chair that is set up against the wall and settle myself into it.
"Thanks," I say folding my hands in my small lap.
She snorts and goes back to working quietly.
For what seems like an eternity, I sit and wait for Dent. I pray that he did not forget. Then suddenly hear the sound of heavy business shoed footsteps approaching down from down the spacious hallway.
They are coming closer.
They are almost to the doorway to the office that I am in.
They are in the doorway.
They have stopped.
I turn around in my plastic chair to face that direction.
There in the entryway is Harvey Dent. He is a tall man, wearing a dark blue business suit that accentuates his powerfully built broad shoulders. His blonde hair is slightly ruffled, reminding me of Gordon's. I also note that he has fierce but beautiful sapphire eyes. He reaches out a large strong looking hand for me to shake.
"Hello," he says, "You must be Eva Duren."
"Yes, that's me."
His voice is creamy, almost like warm butter.
I can feel myself turning red.
I have a crush on the D.A.
Lovely.
This interview is going to go great.
Not.
He lets go of my hand and walks towards his office, without telling me to follow. Nervous and confused, I get up and trail behind him. He opens the wooden door, walks over to his desk and takes a seat in his plushy roller chair.
"You can just use one of those," Dent says and motions at three spare chairs along the back wall of the office.
I do as he recommended.
Feeling like an idiot, I drag a chair up to his desk and plop down into it. I glance around his office, taking in my surroundings. Harvey Dent's office is what one might call an organized mess. He has a multitude of portfolio drawers and files with paper miscellaneously hanging out of them. The wall to ceiling windows behind Dent are identical to that of the secretary's office, however, in here they seem to brighten the mood.
"So," Dent says leaning back into his seat with his hands folded in his lap, "I am going to ask you a series of questions and I need you to answer them honestly. Is that clear?"
"Yes."
"Okay." He says reaching forward and grabbing a pen off of his desk. He begins a rigorous routine of tapping it on the wooden desktop. Dent's eyes are unwavering, similar to the Batman's, however, something smolders behind them that I cannot place. It slightly frightens me and I fidget a little in my seat.
"So how were you affiliated with Officer Ilia Rendell?"
And so the questions begin. They are incessantly invasive for about the next hour or so. I try my best to give Dent my undivided attention. This interview is difficult for me; he is prodding the subject about Ilia's murder and how the Joker was really trying to kill me. However, I do not mention that I was shot. I don't want to bring Batman, into this and so far I am guessing that Dent just assumes that I went to Gordon's place without any "help". As the interview progresses, I cannot help but think how relentless Dent is with his questioning. He probes me like a computer hacker.
No apologies.
No sympathy.
Then again, maybe I am just being selfish.
He needs the information about the homicide more than I do. Dent needs the information to build a case against the Joker for when he is arrested and put on trial. Of course that is, if he ever is arrested.
Dent's words are sharpened like daggers and they sink painfully into my emotionally thin soul. Thank God, the interview is coming to a close now. Dent will occasionally scribble something on a pad of paper while I am talking. It gives me the feeling that he is some kind of shrink and I am his lunatic of a patient.
Goodie.
"Alright Officer, looks like we are just about done here, I think I have a few more quest-," Dent pauses mid-word, something has caught his attention.
Something catches my attention as well.
The door to Dent's office opens swiftly and there in the entrance stands a beautiful woman. She is tall and blessed with long legs. Her brown hair cascades in a carefree, yet professional style, around her oval face. The woman has clear blue eyes that are locked with Dent's dark blue gaze. She leans on the doorway and curves her body in an inviting manner. In her hand she holds a pile of neatly folded papers.
"Hey Harvey, I just came by to drop off some of the Maroni case paperwork," She says smiling at him delicately, her eyes then sweep over toward me, "Hi, sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
I smile back; this woman's mirth has filled the room pleasantly.
"Thanks Rachel, you can just set them right here," Dent say to her. He taps the far corner of his desk, closest to me, for her to place the paperwork.
Rachel.
I have heard that name before.
Then I remember.
Ilia had to work on something with her, I do not remember what, but what I do recall is that Ilia had said that she absolutely hated her. Ilia said she was a flirt and was annoying as hell. I cannot help but slightly muse at this.
A tiny chuckle erupts in my chest.
Dent flashes me a bizarre look before rapidly turning his attention back to Rachel.
Rachel pushes her weight back onto her feet and approaches Dent sensuously.
I watch, sort of feeling like I should not be here right now.
She reaches the desk and places the papers on the corner of Dent's desk and then looks at me with her long lashed eyes. "Hopefully, he's been well behaved," Rachel says to me and I pity smile at her sad joke.
Dent smirks, "Thank you Rachel."
"You bet," she giggles and exits the office while waving to Harvey, "I'll see you after work."
Dent clears his throat and focuses his attention back on me.
"Sorry about that, I'll have to talk to her about behaving more professional."
I can tell he expects me to laugh, however I do not and stare at him calmly.
He continues on, with his demeanor back onto Mr. Professional, "Oh yes. I have one more question, I almost forgot. Did you sustain any injuries from you encounter with the Joker?"
My heart leaps into my throat.
Shit.
"Y-yes."
"What kind of injuries."
"A um, a-uh," I can feel the stitches catching on the white blouse that I am wearing. It is almost like they are encouraging me to tell Dent the truth, but some part of me does not want any trouble for the Batman.
Dent stares at me coldly.
"A gunshot wound." I sputter out.
His face does not waver while he speaks monotonously to me, "And have you received medical attention? Is this on your medical record? I am going to need documented proof that you received proper medical attention."
"I um," I mutter thinking as fast as I can, "No, but I did get it stitched."
"By?"
"Uh," this is going to be interesting, "the Batman. He found me, in an alleyway in the narrows. I was dying or passing out, I don't really know. But I really am okay now. The bullet didn't hit anything vital, I really am okay."
"Officer Duren," he says strictly, "You do realize that this cannot be used as accurate evidence."
"I know, I am aware of that, and I don't frankly care. But please, Mr. Dent, I need you to keep this, um, private. The Joker was trying to kill me, as you know. Look, if he finds me, I-I just, please. Gordon told me that I am going to have to go into hiding and take this case undercover with me."
"Okay, Officer, and what if the Joker takes this public? Makes death threats and then everyone knows you are a wanted woman? What then Officer?"
The thought that he has just proposed to me never even crossed my mind.
Knowing criminals in Gotham and having grown up here, I know what Dent says is spot on. The Joker will find me if he really wants to; it is only a matter of time.
I can only hope to hide for so long, until the beef reaches the street.
Then I am screwed.
"I don't know," I say to Dent, "I-I don't know. But please, keep this a secret, until the Joker is arrested, please keep this a secret. No one at the GPD knows, no one and no one can. It's not safe, I'm not safe. I need to just wait it out and hunt the Joker secretly. But what I fear Mr. Dent, is that the hunter will become the hunted."
He looks at me earnestly.
"Officer Duren, you keep me in the loop, got it? Any evidence, anything at all, I want you or Gordon to forward it to me. I don't like how Gordon thinks that he has his own private little team. I didn't become involved in the law to sit around and keep secrets about vigilantes and young female officers; I became involved to put criminals behind bars."
"Okay."
"Okay," he says, "Thanks again for your time. Good luck Officer Duren, because you're sure as hell going to need it."
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A/N: Sorry about the semi-delayed update. My birthday was on Sunday and I didn't have the time work on it then! Also, please let me know if you find any grammatical errors, I am horrible at proofreading! Please PM if you find anything too serious. Oh, and please Review Review Review! Thanks to all of you who have!