Thanks for reading along, lovely people. It's always fantastic seeing that there are people out there keeping up with this story. Hope everyone's week is going about as good as can be. :) This chapter is Rated M because Harvey Bullock. 'Nuff said.
(x)
'get out now'
Not 'they know'. Not 'they're coming', but 'get out now'.
Madeline got the text from Wilson right before she heard the guards running toward them.
Conway whisked Jim Gordon back to his block, and Hollister jostled her out into an operational section of the prison. She whirled in place as she heard and then saw Harvey heading straight for her. When his eyes locked onto hers, she released a long, whooshing breath that she didn't even realize she'd been holding back.
He marched up to them with Alvarez and three flatfoots in full uniform trailing just behind.
Harvey's voice boomed, "Well, well, what do we have here? This must be that suspicious character we got a call about lurking around this place." He reached her and said to the guard, "Step back, hoss. Better leave this one to me."
Hollister tightened his iron-clad grip on her bicep, seemingly just to show Harvey he could. Pain shot up through her shoulder.
When Harvey leaned in, there was a hint of steel to his voice. "You're gonna move your arm. Or I'm gonna break it in three places."
It got results. Hollister dispatched of her much like he did in the hallway, like she disgusted him. But Madeline didn't care. She felt a rush of relief so complete that her head swam as Harvey pulled her in toward him.
Warden Grey charged forward, still pinning Madeline with his death-glare.
Harvey looked to Grey with dry indifference. "Afternoon, warden. We'll take things from here, get this little hellraiser off your hands. Good thing us boys got here when we did." It turned out Harvey couldn't help but let some hostility seep into his tone. "Who knows what kinda damage mighta got done."
His frown magnified, getting his eyebrows into the act. "Give me your search warrant."
He handed over the crinkled paper, and Grey scanned it. "Ah, you know what," Harvey said. "Keep it. I got another one just like it out in the car."
It earned both of them a black look. "Get the hell out of my prison. Now."
"You got it, chief." He made a helicopter motion with his left hand, and Alvarez and the rookies turned and followed them out. He called back as he led Madeline away. "No need to thank us. All in a day's work. Just doing the job."
As they made their way out of the prison, Madeline's mind raced. She was walking out alive because Harvey blazed a path to her, but they had Jim Gordon right where they wanted him. She had to tell Harvey. He had to know that Grey was going to kill him outright, in his prison, where no one could stop him, and …
Harvey suddenly grabbed her up around her waist, holding her tight at his hip, and Madeline blinked in confusion. What …? What was he doing?
Then, she realized. Harvey caught on before she did. She felt her legs start to buckle. Beneath her, the floor slanted as the room began to spin.
He leaned in close as he half-carried her, keeping her upright. "Almost there. Just a few more feet. Car's parked right out front."
They walked through the glass doors of the entrance, and a rush of cold winter air hit her, pushing back her hair from her face. That helped keep her present. After Harvey helped her down the steps, he opened the car door, and she dropped heavily into the passenger seat. From there, it was a blur. He held his hand against her back and told her to put her head between her knees and breathe deep.
When the world came back into focus, she sat up and found that Harvey draped his leather jacket over her shoulders. That's right. She left her coat, her purse, and all its contents back inside the prison.
She took in her surroundings. In the time it took her to come back around Harvey had driven them a few blocks up. He'd pulled over and parked off the side of the road to wait her out.
He held out a bottle of water to her, which she accepted. She uncapped it and took a careful sip.
After keeping the water down, she leaned back against the seat. She breathed in the scent of his jacket, leather, cigar smoke, and lingering traces of Old Spice. It was unreal to her that no matter how much time passed… this was still the safest place to be. Her muscles began to relax and her breathing slowed to its normal pace.
Harvey said, "Take it easy. There ain't no rush. But when you can, start talking to me about what the hell happened back there."
Madeline took a breath and told him everything.
(x)
'It's bad. Get here.'
Being innately pessimistic had its advantages. After Harvey told Gordon about Lee and the baby, he saw the toll it took on him, and he kept his word to Madeline. But it came with a stipulation. After learning that Gordon had been moved onto F-Wing, the two of them sat down and put together a better plan than just 'you'll call me'.
He made sure Alvarez and the rookies were patrolling nearby and he scooped up a couple blank search warrants signed by Judge Baker. (They littered the precinct like parade confetti.) Then he settled in a few blocks away, keeping an eye on his cell phone. When the text came through, he saw that his bleak outlook as usual was right on the money.
Madeline got him up to speed, even did him the favor of keeping it to 'just the facts ma'am'. But Harvey only had to take one look at her to get the jist of what happened. She'd just about keeled over back there, and this was far from her first shakedown. There were girls who were made of cloth and others made of steel. Maddie was solidly in the latter camp. She knew how to navigate scrapes that went South. If anything, she was usually interested in seeing how far she could take things before they did. … Case in point.
Harvey knew there was no way Madeline would get off light with Grey. He also knew a little too much about how scenarios like these played out. They'd use the classic scare tactics: threaten her, frisk her for an excuse to put their hands where they didn't belong, probably take her through the whole interrogation schtick. Powertrip types like Grey got off on that shit.
He figured at worst they'd rough her up, if tempers flared and her pride got the best of her. Harvey tried to warn her about it, oh, only eight dozen times. How she'd be up against naked cruelty, against men with no conscience. But he wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know, so none of it fazed her. She found it acceptable to weather that for Gordon's sake.
So if her number came up, it was Harvey's job to roll up in that piece and bust her out of there, hopefully before they got too physical with her, definitely before they got into a rhythm.
Turned out Grey and his guards worked fast when they had the right motivation. It was impossible to miss the bruises from where they'd strong-armed her. But other than that, there'd been little to no build-up to shit getting real.
Grey gave the nod to have both her and Gordon killed. Plain and simple. Pretty strong, given the offense. If Harvey had even thought it was a remote possibility, he never would have let Maddie walk back in there, and he knew without a doubt Gordon and Wilson wouldn't have either.
So Warden Grey was down for murdering at will. No big surprise there.
But in this particular case, what didn't fit was that he'd pitch a fit for his own discomfort. Grey looked out for Numero Uno, hands down, all day every day. A double homicide at his prison, one being a civilian? That was a lot of media attention. A lot of government entities up in his business. And his business at Blackgate was read: shady as fuck. The warden had a lot of skin in the game, and there were plenty of ghosts buried in that prison. Grey wasn't looking to have any of them raised.
Harvey knew that she'd been a serious source of frustration for the warden back in her heyday. But if the thought of Madeline in a body bag really got Grey's dick hard, Christ, he had two years and every opportunity to get it done way back when. So it wasn't about that.
Instead, it shed light on another, more pressing, more urgent problem. Somewhere along the way, Grey became fixated upon and fully committed to an outcome with Gordon. Which meant-
"He's gonna kill him, Harv," Madeline said in the midst of her own thoughts. "As soon as he gets his next chance."
She took the words right out of his mouth.
He expelled a hard sigh against his lips. And that changed things. All the way.
She turned to look at him with wide, round eyes. "He has to get out of there. It can't happen next week or next month. It has to happen now."
"I know that." He said it the way some people say 'the grass is green' or 'Pink Floyd is a band, not some guy'. He took her gently by the shoulder to get her full attention. "I'm gonna make moves with this thing, but I need you to be out of harm's way, all the way. From here on out, you need to let me handle this."
Madeline looked back at him. Harvey waited patiently for the argument, the 'fuck that', the predictable rash of shit about how like hell she was going to take a backseat.
She said it softly. "Okay."
Harvey flinched at her, but managed not to do a double take. She didn't demand to be involved. She didn't stubbornly insist that two sets of eyes were better than one and she might see something he didn't.
Then something heavy and hard sunk down inside him. Worry creased his brow as he looked at her.
Okay, so she told him she got close … But she left out just how close. Harvey stared away, quelling some of his immediate thoughts about that fucking piece of shit and the scum-sucking, limpdick thugs who did his dirty work. He got a good look at the guard no doubt assigned the hit. Gotham, if nothing else, had a way of bringing folk back together. And Harvey gave one hell of a reunion.
There was a lot more to sift through, a lot to unpack, but he shoved it off. He didn't have time for that.
But one more thought snuck through. Thank God. Thank God, I got there before...
He felt her hand take his, and she said something that he didn't expect. "I trust you." Then. "You know that."
He released a heavy breath, and he gripped her hand. He stared down and gently ran his thumb over her knuckles as they sat there.
Then Madeline looked up at him. "Thank you for getting me out of there."
It corkscrewed right down to his heart, and Harvey swallowed against his dry throat. Impulsively, he lifted her hand up to his lips. "Any time."
She sent him a small, tired smile. Then she nodded, because she knew that.
He let go of her hand to start the car, and he drove them back.
(x)
Harvey saw it with the perps who came in for their regularly scheduled legal check-ins all the time. He'd often had the thought that for a select group of dirtballs they should just install a revolving door. It'd be more efficient.
It made sense, he guessed. Crooks and low-lives hit their mid-forties and start asking "what's it all about?" Before you knew it, they were moving into more legitimate enterprises. There were so many other ways to turn a buck in this town, besides your prostitution, drug, and illegal ferret smuggling rings. Why limit yourself?
But even with the best of intentions, it never worked out. Career criminal types couldn't help themselves really. They'd start out legit, but once the going got the tiniest bit rough, they'd throw up their hands and revert back to their standard criminal ways. Couldn't help it. Harvey vaguely wondered if that was an untapped market. Loan sharking was addictive, sure, but where were the support groups?
Harvey understood it. He was one Kenny G or Captain and Tennille song on hold away from losing his goddamn mind. Doing things on the up-and-up was fine when you had time to burn. But Harvey didn't have that luxury anymore. He'd tried the right way. Now it was time to do things the way he so often elected. The way that fucking worked.
He took a back alley into a speakeasy he knew all too well. He did the complicated knock, and the old timer behind the door let him inside without a second glance. Here he was known.
Harvey got to saddle up alongside a couple girls he knew, some trying to sell him their company, some just giving a friendly 'hello'. That was pretty heavenly. But hey now, he didn't come there to get drunk and fuck prostitutes. Well, he did come there for that, but that wasn't the only reason he was there.
Finally, he saw the one he wanted. He made his way nice and easy like up to a hostess with long, dark black hair and a sharp, pale face. This girl had moxy that went on for days. She didn't know him, not yet, but he knew her.
The foxy maven noticed him walking toward her. She looked him up and down, clearly unimpressed with what she saw. Her voice was like a door slamming shut. "What do you want?"
This city. Always with the pleasantries. "I hear you're the lady to talk to if I want to set up a meet with the man upstairs." In most places that meant God. In Gotham it meant something else.
She weighed him with her eyes. "I might be. Who wants to know?"
"Harvey Bullock." Cavorter at large. Dabbling police officer. Part-time comedian. She didn't ask for more, so he didn't give her all his titles or let her know that he had reasonable rates.
She didn't give up her name, but she did say. "I've heard of you."
"Oh yeah?" When she didn't provide anything else, he shrugged. "Well, you know, can't all be true."
She sounded bored. "You're a funny old man."
"You're a funny criminal."
She was still trying to place him. "Which family are you with?"
"I'm not a gangster, ma'am."
"You a cop?"
He wondered what gave it away. The everything or the everything. He put up his hands. "Busted."
The air between them cooled, and the lady looked away. He was starting to worry that he took a misstep somewhere, until she turned to him and said, "I'll put in a word."
"Thanks, sweetheart. 'Preciate it." Harvey slipped her a generous donation which she accepted. He started to go, but then turned back. "If you need my number, I can-"
"He doesn't need it." She said if as if she was annoyed that it had to be said at all. With that, she was done with him. She walked away and disappeared into a back room.
Right. Don't call us. We'll call you.
Harvey had spent a month and a half cutting his way through bureaucratic red tape, spending all day every day on hold, trying to make headway to get Gordon out from behind prison bars.
Falcone's people got back in touch with him before the sun came up.