So I almost didn't write this chapter, because it's not essential. But … Harvey Dent doesn't get enough love in fandom. Since he was nice enough to show up when I sat down to write, I figure I'd let him and Madeline rap a little. I mean, they were both hanging out in the precinct anyway, right? … Right.

Thanks so, so much to everyone out there reading. Writing these stories has been therapeutic for me, and so I'm always just grateful that others enjoy them, too. My husband and I are currently working together on the plot of the next story. :) FYI, you can thank him for any plot-line I write that makes sense. He helps keep things real. Also my husband's first name is Jim and he comes from a long line of military men. So … now you all know why Gordon's got such a special place in my heart. ;)

(x)

"Hello, this is Dr. Madeline Scott."

"Hello, this is Wilson Bishop. Pretty professional, doc. For a second, I thought it was your voicemail."

Madeline leaned back comfortably in her office chair, the phone resting in the crook of her neck against her ear. "Yes, well, when you abandon your cell phone after trespassing into a prison, you don't get the luxury of transferring your contact list into your new phone."

"You don't have to worry. I took care of that one for you."

"You did, huh?"

"Took out the SIM card before Grey got his hands on it."

So the warden wouldn't be able to see their texts. Also, so he couldn't use anything she kept in her phone to his advantage. She smiled contently and sighed a 'my hero' intended to ring out over the line. "I guess that makes us even now."

He said what he always said. "Not even close, doc."

Harvey called it years ago. Wilson's schoolyard crush. As it turned out, it was one that had saved her life. "Once you think it's safe to be seen with me, I'll buy the drinks."

"I'll keep you posted. Things are still a little hot right now."

A familiar neatly-pressed suit and tie marched past her office in a flash, so fast that she almost missed it. After a moment's hesitation, Madeline stood up from her desk. "Hey, Wilson? I gotta run. I'll call you later."

She heard his 'okay', dropped the call, and trotted out into the hallway.

District Attorney Harvey Dent paused in his gait just outside the Captain's office, dressed in his usual sleek and fastidiously groomed attire. His wore his dark hair slicked back. His hairline looked parted by the angels. He peered into the office, obviously checking for Barnes. However, his door was shut and the windows were dark.

Madeline took her sweet time walking up to him. She was still deciding how best to broach conversation, seeing as how the last time they interacted her actions had excluded her from the courtroom.

As luck would have it she didn't need an opening. Dent had one all lined up. "Dr. Madeline Scott." He looked her way as he greeted her. "A 'shining beacon in Gotham's darkness.'"

It earned him a bemused smile. Ah, the press. If they weren't calling for you to be burned at the stake, they were polishing your asshole. "And here I thought they only called me that at the beach." She ran a hand down her freckled, low melanin arm. "Is that one from the supermarket tabloids or low-brow talk shows?"

"Back page of the Times. Opinion section." As she met him outside the Captain's closed office door, he appraised her. "I meant to thank you for the gift basket. A little much, don't you think?"

"When I choose to publicly embarrass myself and others, I send only the finest in gourmet pastries."

Dent's smile didn't reach his eyes, but it was still there. "My staff enjoyed the danishes and bear claws. Clearly the GCPD's left its mark on your choice of care package."

"Doughnuts are considered a basic food group around here." She shrugged and asked, "What do lawyers eat for breakfast?"

"Each other," he answered and got them on a different subject. "I see you've managed to keep your name on the brass plate outside your office."

"Oh, you know, I'm like a criminal record. I'm easy to get but I'm tough to get rid of." She glanced at the Captain's closed office door and then back to the D.A. "If you're looking for Barnes, you just missed him. But if you let me in on what you need, I might be nice and help you."

He studied her for a moment. "A psychologist who sends my office an array of baked goods? That sounds more like someone who wants me to do something nice for her."

She thought for a moment, before she said, "I completed Edward Nygma's evaluation. I'm sure you received your copy."

"Received and read."

"And your thoughts?"

"For what I could tell, it was professionally and fairly written."

"It won't be the last one I write or the last one you read."

Dent stood, staring at her thoughtfully for a long clip. "That's most likely true, though I am curious as to your motivation in mentioning it in casual conversation."

Madeline cut to the chase. "It's come to my attention that my involvement in this city's inner workings may be seen as … objectionable and ill-favored."

He picked something up then that she hadn't intended to convey. He replied softly but with some certainty, "So you have been threatened."

She stared off. Sarcasm laced her tone. "Aw, Dent. That's so sweet. You say it like there's just one." She said, "Though before you ask. No. They haven't succeeded in quieting me."

"What would succeed in quieting you?"

"I'd say an elephant gun, but probably not even that."

He looked her over and then asked directly. "Do you want my help, Dr. Scott?"

"I do. And also you might want mine." His silence allowed her to continue, so she did. "Arkham Asylum is back up and running, and already, they've dispensed of two dangerous murderers with a simple sheet of printed paper declaring them 'sane' without disclosing any of their progress notes or treatment modalities."

"Am I hearing that you don't believe in 'ground-breaking and complete mental health recovery of antisocial behavior?'" Dent quoted easily from yesterday's news article.

"It's a crock of shit," she remarked. "You'll be needing a credible psychologist to testify in what I expect to be an array of upcoming court hearings when they inevitably 'relapse.'" She added in a quieter tone, "Maybe one who can't be bought off or distracted by bribes the crime bosses in this city use as often as the rest of us use band-aids and duct-tape."

"Finding someone to go on record can be a challenge." He seemed to say the next part for her benefit. "All too often, the ones that do don't last long."

"I'm like a criminal record. Or did you already forget?"

"Easy to get, tough to get rid of. So you said." He waited a beat and then asked, "And how are we to thank you for your implied assistance in these eventual hearings?"

He provided her an opening, and she took it. "The next time I take objectionable, ill-favored steps, I may need an avenue that can't be easily traced back to me."

He made a thoughtful noise. "Such as a D.A.'s office."

Madeline matched his tone, deviating from their banter. "I'm learning that when you take risks, you don't take them alone. If I'm going to help shape this city into something vaguely less corrupt, I need to do so at times without raising red flags."

"These measures you're planning to take. Am I to understand that they'll be taken with the betterment of the city in mind?"

She saw no reason not to be just as direct as he was. "I care. So sue me."

"Not the best dare to give a district attorney." He relented, "But… it would seem that we have similar end goals in mind."

"I'm a conscientious objector. Like you."

That touch of his smile returned. "You're worse than that. You're a liberal."

She winked. "Recovering."

He sucked in a breath and said, "I've looked into your past work history in this city. You managed to stay at Blackgate without tarnishing your name or reputation. Until they … asked you to step down."

"I was fired," she deadpanned. "I had a falling out with management."

Dent watched her carefully. "Your objections about how the warden ran Blackgate weren't low-pitched."

Madeline widened her eyes to herself. And he had no idea the lengths she'd taken recently at that. "Yes, well, when I talk, I tend to do it loudly."

He stood up straighter and raised his voice. "I imagine you could talk your way out of a paper bag, if you managed to convince Captain Barnes to keep you in his employ after your last court appearance."

She softened. "Despite what I implied in court, I trust Barnes with my life and the lives of anyone else in this city," she said. "But I meant what I said about the level of violence and trauma all of us face on a daily basis. It's a real and destructive mental health crisis."

"I'll have to trust your expertise on that matter." D.A. Dent looked down at his watch. "Now I'm going to have to trust that you'll excuse me as I have yet another scheduled meeting that requires my immediate attention."

"Thank you for your time, Dent."

He turned back. "You can call me Harvey if you prefer."

She waited a beat before saying, "I like Dent."

"As you will." He took his leave, a man with a skyrocketing career and worlds to conquer. "'Til next time, Dr. Scott."

She relaxed against the Captain's closed office door, casting an eye over the open working area of the precinct. When she averted her gaze from Dent's departure, she turned to see Detective Harvey Bullock sitting back in his desk chair, tough exterior and sly good looks in place. He wore the knot of his tie lowered, and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He sent her a knowing smile that spoke volumes.

She clicked her lips as she ambled up to him. "So… do you have something to share with the class?"

He aimed for casual. "I'm either hearin' things or I just caught you doing some actual schmoozing."

It probably should have bothered her, Harvey's eavesdropping, but instead, it was just the opposite. He was keeping an eye out. That meant he'd catch her if she spun too wide on her axis.

She shrugged in a coy, nonchalant manner. "I was simply offering my psychiatric services. I'm doing it to appease."

"Bullshit," he said easily. "If you're doing it, you've got an ulterior motive."

"I figure it can't hurt to branch out a little, if I'm going to continue to regularly upset the power structure."

He couldn't seem to help himself. "Looks like someone's got themselves a bad case of the Harveys."

Madeline couldn't stop from smiling. She could only tone it down. "I've had this feeling before," she reminded him. "You might remember I know greatness when I see it."

That earned her a grumbling string of mutterings. "Uh-huh. You done now?"

"Trouble-making or pushing my agenda? Or speaking out of turn and above my station?"

"Think I'm gonna go with D. All of the above."

"I call it like I see it." Hopefully in Dent's case, he'd follow more in the footsteps of Alexander the Great and Augustus Caesar and a little less like Napoleon and Genghis Khan. "Besides, I'm just taking your advice."

He sent back dryly, "Oh really? What advice might that be?"

She used his words, "To 'play the game.'" As she walked away, she gave a little shimmy. "And cover my tight little ass for once."

As she clicked her heels away, Madeline didn't feel the need to look back. She knew he saw it.