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(x)

Harvey and Jim took off from the station and quickly piled into their squad car. Harvey said, "Dispatch got the call ten minutes ago. The fight broke out on the floor of the editing room at Gotham's Channel 6 Newsroom. They said their cameraman, Paul Henderson, ran out of his office, shouting nonsense at the top of his lungs, and just started throwing punches into whatever sap got near him."

Jim buckled his seatbelt as they took off into the heart of the city towards the news tower. "Let me guess. He'd just finished checking his mail."

Harvey flipped on the red and blue barlights and said, "That and two weeks ago he received his official PTSD diagnosis, according to human resources. He got called out to film the home of a woman who just lost her two kids in a gang war shootout. When the crowd saw him pull out his camera from the truck, they turned on him. The HR rep said they beat him within an inch of his life."

"Hell hath no fury like a neighborhood seeing their grief exploited for ratings."

Harvey said, "Last thing they told me was that he was like 'a thing possessed'. But, they were able to get him behind closed doors in one of their empty editing rooms." He said, "Only thing I love more than walking into a domestic dispute is coming across a brickhouse of a guy just lookin' to rip everyone to shreds."

Jim looked down at the face of his watch. "A lot can happen in ten minutes."

"In this city? A lot can happen in ten seconds." Harvey's jaw set in determination as he stepped on the gas.

(x)

The editing room held Paul Henderson captive, for the moment. Barlights from the ambulances dispatch sent to the location lit up the room in waves. Jim and Harvey stood in the middle of the news center, looking in on a six foot six Caucasian man in his late forties. Paul screamed at the top of his lungs and banged his fists against the windows and the door, doing everything except foaming at the mouth.

Harvey crossed his arms and relaxed his stance. "I say we just leave him in there, let him get it out of his system. That drug's gotta wear off sometime."

Jim looked to Harvey. "Yeah, but when it does, two times out of three it kills the person who takes it. The odds aren't on our side with this."

"Yeah, I don't know if you've noticed, Jim, but that seems to be a running theme with us."

Someone screamed as the handle of the door rattled loudly and the chair holding to the door shook, threatening to break. The other employees of the newsroom strayed from the door, keeping to the edges of the room. They were their viewers personified, equally unwilling to get close and unwilling to look away.

Jim looked into the eyes of the man in the room. Paul Henderson breathed heavily, sweat dripping from his hair and down the sides of his face. Paul narrowed his gaze straight at Jim from behind the shatter-proof window. All Jim was missing was the billowing red flag, and all Paul was missing was the bull horns. The man rushed the door, slamming hard against the wall and window, doing his best to break through.

Harvey responded, pulling out his gun and keeping it at the ready. The second Paul saw the gun, a flip switched. He broke out into a fit of rage, screaming obscenities and swinging his fists. The walls of the room muffled his curses and the sick bang of his fists into the walls, but not nearly enough.

Jim looked to Harvey and said, "Put away your gun."

Harvey spoke in a deceptively calm voice. "You know I got an even better idea. Why don't I open the door, put the gun on the ground, and kick it over to him." He geared up and shouted. "What the hell are you talkin' about?! This guy wants nothing more than to paint the floor with us."

"That's because he's perceiving us as a threat."

"Yeah, and you know what? He's right. He knows we've got him cornered."

Paul stared back at them, his eyes angry slits. Jim responded by putting up his hands and making his face as easy and approachable as he could, given the circumstances.

Harvey sent him a look of disbelief and demanded, "You mind telling me just what the hell you think you're doing?"

Jim said, "I'm going in there."

Harvey dropped his gun and a wince momentarily tightened his face. A there-he-goes-again expression. "Settle down, Dr. Phil. This is not a hostage negotiation. He's not standing on a bridge trying to off himself. If you think this is a situation you got under your control, you're even more certifiable than I thought."

Jim said, "He's unarmed. He's sweating. The physical exertion has got to be getting to him."

Harvey said, "Yeah, that's when they keel over. If he's anything like our girl, Lucy, he'll snap out of it when he wakes up-"

"If he wakes up," Jim said urgently. "This is an experiment gone wrong. We can't lose another one."

Harvey groaned and ran his hand down his face. He muttered, "Why you gotta make everything so goddamn complicated?"

"The way I see it, it's simple." Jim pointed at Paul Henderson. "We stay out here, he could die. We go inside, he might live."

His partner shook his head. They'd been here, in this exact moment ten times over.

Jim looked at him and asked, "You got my back?"

Harvey said angrily, "Like it would stop you if I didn't?" Harvey steeled himself and crept up. He pushed himself up against the side of the doorway, staying out of Paul Henderson's eyeline, gun held tight in both hands.

Jim pulled aside the chair and carefully opened the door. He stood in the center of the doorway, facing Paul. The man shivered and shook, breathing heavily less than ten feet away from where Jim stood.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Paul? Nobody here wants to hurt you. I just want to talk."

Paul Henderson growled, like a man who could always start a fight and end a fight by ripping out your throat. "Stay back!" he bellowed. "I'm warning you!"

"I won't come any closer," Jim said. "I was just thinking about how many people you must have in your life." He did a quick assessment of the man. He saw a wedding band. "You're married. Maybe you've got a family."

The man's face swelled red and he balled his hands up into white-knuckle fists. "Leave my family out of this!"

Jim felt his heart rate kick up. He nodded cooperatively. "I know you may not believe me, but I'm here to help." He looked Paul right in the eyes when he said, "You don't have to go through this alone."

For the slightest moment, Paul's face softened. He blinked, and Jim watched his words affect the man in front of him. Then, the moment passed, and in the next moment, rage pulled back the corners of Paul's mouth.

Jim took a step backward. "Uh, feel the ground beneath your feet. Remember to breathe. You're secure in this building. You're perfectly safe."

Paul's muscle tensed. His pupils dilated and he screamed a war cry.

Jim breathed out, "Oh, crap." He jumped and ducked out of the way as the man came barrelling toward him. Jim caught the man's left arm, and at the same moment, Harvey ran into the room and grabbed a hold of Paul's right arm. Together they forced him back inside the room.

"Get him up against the wall!" Jim shouted.

Paul bucked and swung his fists wildly while Harvey struggled to keep his grip. His partner retorted, "Right, -now- you want me to bodycheck this guy!"

The man yanked his arm out from Jim's grasp. In one quick motion, Paul hauled back and punched upward, catching Jim in the jaw. Harvey grabbed Paul by the collar and using all his strength, he pounded the man up against the wall of the editing room. Paul's back made contact with a sickening slap, and as they grappled, they knocked over a desk and the computer that rested on top of it.

Paul kicked Harvey in the shin, and Harvey let off a sharp bark of pain. The blow gave Paul the moment he needed, and he pulled back and landed a solid left hook into the detective's cheekbone. Harvey went down like a ton of bricks, but he wasn't down for the count yet. In knocking Harvey down, Paul left himself wide open. Jim launched himself forward and landed a solid punch that sent Paul's head kicking backward. The punch dazed Paul, and Harvey shot back up. He and Jim shared a quick glance and together they bull-dozed into the cameraman until they had him up against the wall by his shoulders.

Paul hollered and struggled, but it was a losing battle. His breathing became shorter and more shallow. Soon, instead of holding him up against the wall, they were trying to lower him down to prevent any further injury as the man, who had the size and stature of a vending machine, passed out onto the floor.

Harvey knelt down, unwilling to drop his vigilance, even as the man sunk down onto the floor of the editing room. He pulled Paul's hands behind his back and cuffed him, God forbid the man got a second wind. Above them, Jim tried to catch his breath as the familiar scent of his own sweat and blood filled his nostrils.

He took out of his phone and made a call downstairs to the ambulance. "This is Detective Gordon. The threat has been neutralized, but we're going to need an EMT up here immediately."

Harvey pulled himself to his feet, his right cheek swelling red. He sat down hard in one of the chairs, reached into his coat, and pulled out his flask.

Jim looked over at him, while he worked on getting his breathing in check. "You always keep that on you?"

"Just ever since I heard the words 'Meet Jim Gordon. He's your new partner.'"

Jim let out a sigh as Harvey kicked back the flask and took a long swig.