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(x)

Present Day

Gotham City

Detective Harvey Bullock shot up the stairs and threw open the door of the conference room.

"But you're not looking at what motivates-" Dr. Madeline Scott stopped mid-sentence and glanced up from her paperwork. She looked at Harvey, blinked, and drew in a breath.

He took the opening. He faced the cop standing across from her. "You, rookie." He made a fist and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Am-scray."

The rookie must have realized that he wanted no part of what was about to go down and said, "We'll talk later, ma'am."

Harvey called after him. "What's your name, rook?"

"Ellis, sir."

"You're a smart kid, Ellis. You got potential here."

After the rookie high-tailed it out of there, Harvey looked down on all five foot nothing of her, dressed all smart in earth tones like she generally preferred. Still had the red hair, but it had darkened over the years, like the embers of a cigar burning their way down. Still had the librarian glasses, yet still mastered that cool look of condescension when she wanted to, like right now for example.

Madeline released a sigh. "Hello, Harvey."

"Hello!" he exclaimed in a way usually saved for phrases like 'Eureka' and 'Mazel Tov.' "See, it's not that hard to say. All you gotta do is put that together with dialing a phone, and you'll be in business."

She set aside her papers, keeping her tone soft and even. "Okay, so that's the reason you barged in here like this? To have it out with me?"

"No time like the present. Don't you think?"

"We've both got plenty to say," she said. "But not now. Not today. I'm just getting started here-"

"Yeah, I've no doubt. Thanks for the heads up, by the way. I really appreciate the professional courtesy."

Her voice darkened. "Look, if you don't mind, I've got enough to handle without having to deal with you and your untreated jackassitis."

"Is that your final diagnosis, doctor? What's next? 'Patient is a wackadoodle who suffers from having a screw loose'?"

She stayed silent for a moment and opened up her hands. "If you have an issue with me being here, you're talking to the wrong person. Your captain is the one who hired me."

"Let me ask you this. What precinct did you request? Did you say 'maybe I'll check out the 22nd downtown? Or hey, maybe set me up by the docks out there by the 15th?'"

She looked at him over her glasses. "It's not like they gave me my choice, Harvey."

"It's not like they pinned up a map of Gotham and handed you a dart either."

Madeline Scott raised her eyebrows. "What am I supposed to say here? That I'm not happy to see you?"

Harvey shook his head. His voice turned less harsh, not soft, just careworn. "What're you doin' here, Maddie?"

"I'm back in Gotham to promote my book. I let the bureau know I'd be available for consulting, and they requested my services."

"And I'm supposed to believe that's the only reason you're back here."

"I'd tell you the truth …" Now her voice sounded careworn. "But you probably wouldn't want to hear it."

When he looked back at her, some of the energy drained from his face. "You know what the hell of it is? You're right."

"Well, there's two words I never thought I'd hear you say."

At the jibe, some of his rancor returned. He geared up and then froze mid-comeback as Captain Barnes walked up to them. "Detective Bullock. I see you've come across our new consult." He looked in on Madeline and back at Harvey. "From what I understand, you two know each other. We're not gonna have a problem here, are we?"

Harvey never took his eyes off Madeline. "No, problem here, Cap'. Just catchin' up on old times."

He'd already turned to leave when she called back, "You look good, Harvey." He stopped in his tracks, cursing her under his breath. She would throw that in there. Knowing that time changed a lot, but not the way she wore that shirt high enough for government work and low enough for imagination. Harvey went ahead and added that thought to the ever-growing list of things he wished wasn't happening that day.

Jim ran up and caught him by the arm. "Hey. What was that back there? You okay?"

"I'll be okay once we fleece out some locals who can dish out the dirt on this trucker-drugging scumbag of yours."

Jim lowered his gaze, as this was the exact opposite of what Harvey had said exactly .5 minutes ago. "What about the fine tooth comb? Things that aren't connected? Me losing my grip on reality?"

"Yeah, screw that. We gotta find this asshole. I need a punching bag."

(x)

Jim turned to follow his partner, still acclimating himself to the case's shiny new direction, when he heard Captain Barnes' voice boom behind him. "Gordon! Would you mind joining me over here, please?"

The request was not one. Jim stepped inside the conference room. Captain Barnes said, "Get the door, will you?" He obliged and the Captain continued, "Jim Gordon, this is Dr. Madeline Scott. She's here to update our profiles on the main threats to Gotham City wherever possible. Madeline Scott. Jim Gordon. One of our best."

Jim tried to pretend he hadn't just heard his partner read her the Riot Act. He shook her hand. "Doctor. Nice to meet you."

She nodded. "The same."

Captain Barnes skipped a beat and then continued, "You'll be working with Dr. Scott on a number of cases. But that's not why I called you in to talk."

Jim frowned. "...Sir?"

"Dr. Scott will be providing counseling services to some of our staff. I want you to see her for counseling, too."

"You want me to attend therapy?"

"Yes, I do."

Jim sent an uncomfortable stare to Dr. Scott and then turned back to Barnes. "Could we talk about this for a moment in private, sir?"

She began to say, "That's fine-"

"No," Barnes said with finality. "You have your orders."

"Sir," Jim continued. "If my job performance here has been anything less than satisfactory, I might understand where this is coming from, but-"

"Jim." Barnes leveled with him. "It's not that you're not working at one hundred percent. But we keep calling you out to the front lines, and when we don't, you basically demand to be there anyway. No one, not even me, can operate like a well-oiled machine under that kind of pressure." He then lowered his voice. It was one of the only times in recent memory that the Captain didn't sound like he was speaking on a public address system. "I don't want to lose you. If I don't take advantage of every resource I have at my disposal, then if something goes haywire, it'll be on me. So it's final. You're going."

Jim challenged him. "And if I don't?"

Captain Barnes said, "I already told you I don't want to lose you. But a man who won't obey orders from his superior? That's not a loss to me. Not even if it's you."

Jim watched as Captain Barnes left the room and returned back to his office.

At the same time, Dr. Scott addressed him, "Detective Gordon?"

He managed a tentative smile. "Jim."

"Madeline," she said in reply. "I've been seeing police officers in therapy for some time now. But with everything Captain Barnes said, he was wrong about one thing."

Jim's stare asked the question for him.

Madeline said, "You work day and night. You operate cleanly and efficiently 'round the clock. But you're not a machine. You're a person. Even if you haven't been keeping tabs of every dead body, every heinous crime, every loss you've suffered second-hand or first, your body has been. The numbers add up, whether we want them to or not."

Jim took a breath and said, "You and Harvey Bullock aren't strangers. He's my partner. Doesn't that make me seeing you for therapy a conflict of interest?"

"You could play that card if you want to with your Captain, but I wouldn't." She stood up and let out a relaxed sigh. "My advice? If you really want to make Barnes drop this?"

Jim answered dryly, "What's that?"

She handed him a card with a location, date, and time written in. "Go to the session. Either that or come up with a way to make your not coming to counseling his idea. Whatever you can swing by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow."

Her heels clip-clopped away from him. "Yeah," he said, staring down at the card. "I'll keep that in mind."

"I know it's early. I'll bring the coffee."

Jim held back a sigh as he slid the card into his wallet. With that, he went to go find Harvey. All of a sudden he realized he wouldn't mind talking about this with a suitable punching bag either.

(x)

A lone driver sat in a dark blue van across the street from his mark's place of business. On the other side of his window, steam curled into the air from an open vent in the sidewalk. Women and men who wore their nasty histories on their faces and in their voices ambled past, paying him no mind. Just another of the million vehicles that parked in this city at any given moment. He brushed his thumb against the stubble on his chin. He'd been working so diligently that sometimes the length of his beard was the most reliable reminder of time passing.

He flinched as his phone rang from the seat next to him. He felt a swell of anxiety as he looked down at the number. Finally, he answered. "Hello."

A voice said, "Dr. Moon, I believe I gave clear instructions that all experiments were to take place in house. I've also been equally clear about what happens to those who do not follow protocol."

"You were shutting down the project." By shutting down he meant 'trying to disappear' and by 'the project' he meant himself. He whispered, pleading, "I'm so close to finding the exact dosage. All I need is a little more time."

"At one point I may have entertained that request. That time has passed."

He drew in a noisy breath and said, "I found subjects...almost all the subjects I need."

"How exactly did you go about that?"

"It took some effort, to hack into the computer systems. But…" He laughed without humor, only exhaustion. "I've discovered firsthand that desperation procures the fastest results."

"Be that as it may," he said. "Now that I know your intentions, you can consider this study… completed."

"Not at all. It's just started. The experiment is already in motion."

"Does this mean that you've already distributed your drug out into the community?"

"Yes." His mouth felt dry as cotton. "Yes, I have."

"A bold move, doctor," he said.

"Fortune favors the bold."

"And what about failure? Who does that favor?"

Dr. Moon tried to swallow his fear. "I'm fixing the mistakes I've made in the past. I know I can produce the results you want, outside the lab, in real time. Failure is a lesson, if we learn from it."

"Or it can be our coffin, if we don't," He said, "Seeing as how you've forced my hand, we now have no choice but to let science answer the question for us." He took a deep breath and said, "So tell me. What's your endgame, doctor?"

"Same as it's always been. The achievement of progress. No matter what the cost."

The man on the other end of the line paused and said, "Should this experiment go as well as you hope, we will be very happy with your performance."

Dr. Moon ended the call, hearing only the converse. Screw this up, and we will be very unhappy with your performance. He scratched his beard and did the only thing he could do. He waited.