Oh, man, I've had so much fun writing this story. Thank you so, so much for being awesome, dedicated readers. I can't thank you enough for inspiring and encouraging all this continued literary insanity.

Veterans know how the last chapter works. I let Harvey's mind run wild, and things hum along and wrap up from there. As such, our last chapter is rated M for all the usual, fun-filled Harvey Bullock reasons.

So usually I jump right into posting the next story. However, I really want the next story to be the best I've written for this fandom yet. As such, I'm taking time to make sure it's exactly as I want it to be before posting. :) I'm anticipating that the next story will be posted after the holidays late Dec 2016/early Jan 2017. So be on the lookout for "Trust Fall" in our beautiful Gotham fandom. Thanks for all the love, everybody!

(x)

His last name was Murphy and he worked in Property Crimes. That was all Madeline knew about him, besides the fact that he was a chauvinistic snorting pig. She stood on the opposite side of the file cabinet in the back of the Annex, hidden from view as she eavesdropped. Being fun-sized had its benefits. Murphy filed paperwork on the other side, talking to a younger officer named Sheppard about Josie Mac and her watermelons.

"I just want to bury my face in those sweater puppets." Murphy made the matching motor-boat noise. "All I need is a night at the bar with her and a couple Long Island Ice Teas. Know what I'm sayin'?"

"She'd be good for a little ass on the side."

He muttered, "She's the only trim in this place who is."

"Yeah, it's slim pickings out there ever since Dr. Thompkins left town." He said in a lower voice, "What about that other doc upstairs? Redheads are more fun, right?"

"She's got a nice can. But she's a headache on legs. She yaps more than all my ex-wives put together." He said, "That and she's a little old for my tastes."

Madeline clicked her lips. She was just about to make herself known, when a thick Gotham accent broke into the conversation.

"Hey," Alvarez brayed at them. "How 'bout you shut your noise-holes? Show a little respect."

Sudden, stunned silence met his order.

Madeline donned a sugar-sweet smile as she popped her head around the corner. "Yeah, you might want to be careful. You never know who's listening."

Sheppard shifted uncomfortably in place, and Murphy struggled to put together his next sentence.

"S'matter, boys?" she asked. "Cat got your tongue?"

Murphy openly glared at the question, and Sheppard pointed to her. "Uh, how much of that did you hear?"

"I caught the part about having a nice can, but I missed the part about being too old for your tastes." She took another breath and said, "Hey, Alvarez, can you get Sheppard outta here? Detective Murphy and I need to have a talk."

Sheppard stood his ground. "Hey, hold up a minute. You can't say who gets to be here and who doesn't-"

Alvarez pushed forward, bulldozing into Sheppard and escorting him out of the Annex. "You heard the lady. Let's go, pal."

Madeline stepped in front of the exit, blocking Murphy as he went to bolt past her. "Detective, I couldn't help but overhear your very loud, very caveman-esque bragging yesterday. I especially loved the part about beating the piss out of hoodrats who are late on their monthly payments."

His frown deepened. "Hey, listen, you're gonna wanna stop talkin' about crap that ain't none of your beeswax before I-"

"Before you fuck me up a little and soften my ass up?" When that left him gobsmacked, Madeline looked to the side, considering it fully. "You know, I've already heard that one this month."

Murphy stood up a little taller. "Just keep talkin'. You won't always be-"

"Under the watch of whatever detective I'm fucking this week? That one is pretty popular. You might want to cruise HBO on demand to come up with some fresh new material. I suggest Oz or the Sopranos circa 2001. Great for brushing up on your threats." She raised her voice as she smoothly got into a roll. "Now, I know you've found this new and exciting financial loophole called 'crime.' But even though you are a cop, that doesn't mean that you get to do shitty and illegal things whenever the mood takes you."

Murphy sneered at her. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. So I use a little grease to get important people their cash back. So what?"

Madeline blinked. "Just to recap. Money is loaned out?"

He said shortly in an annoyed tone. "Yeah."

"And then when they can't pay up, you make them pay but with interest?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Yes, that's loan sharking."

From across the way, Detective Harvey Bullock stood with Captain Barnes just outside his office door. They looked on as Madeline took Detective Murphy to task. Harvey couldn't hear every word, but Murphy's voice started to boom that he came in there to file shit, not to listen to her run her mouth off. Madeline answered back swiftly, "I'm not here to sugarcoat things. I'm not Willy Wonka and this is not a Chocolate Factory."

Barnes looked over top of his half-moon reading glasses. "She's a pistol."

Harvey loudly barked off a laugh, because he said it as if he had any idea.

(x)

In the early evening, Madeline hurried downstairs towards the excited whoops, golf claps, and soft yells just outside one of the GCPD interrogation rooms. She saw Alvarez dressed in a get-up very much in homage to Marilyn Monroe. He traipsed past, receiving high-fives and slaps on the ass from the other officers.

Harvey stationed himself just outside the interrogation room, kicking back his flask, his cheeks ruddy from the scotch. He had the knot of his tie lowered, and his shoulder holster in place. When he wore that cat-that-got-the-canary grin, it always made him damn easy on the eyes.

Madeline started for him, and he hopped forward, meeting her halfway. "C'mere," he said conspiratorially. "You're gonna wanna check this out."

She allowed herself to be gently pulled forward until she looked into an interrogation room holding … a Caucasian woman in her late fifties wearing a dated pants suit, vermilion in color, with a colorful ascot tied around her neck. Her Elsa Lanchester hair completed the look.

She squinted at Harvey for a clue. "So I don't think she's here to apply for the open stenographer position, and she's not here for a scrap-booking class. So that means she's…"

"Our murder suspect. You know, that one we've been looking for all month."

She eyes went wide. "... A female serial murderer."

"I tried to tell ya. We were lookin' for an equal opportunity killer."

"Well, tattoo me shocked," Madeline said, staring back through the one-way glass. "Though I did say they'd be deep down in that closet." She added, "I just didn't know that closet would be filled with the sales rack from Marshall's and T.J. Maxx."

"Yeah, well, equality. And all that noise."

She hummed. "Those sensitivity trainings. They're really paying off."

Harvey got her up to speed. "We lured her in by having a Madam at the local no-tell-motel use the right buzzwords to hit all the high notes."

She arched a skeptical eyebrow. "...Buzzwords?"

Harvey rattled off, "Hot and Horny Jizz Queens, Anal Fantasy, Tranny Panties, Party with Cross Dressing Sluts-"

"Okay, okay." She waved off the comments. "Sorry I asked."

He rested his hands on his best and holster. "Genevieve Esposito likes her women by the hour and her men in full drag. We reeled her in all right. She came bearing a sharpened kitchen knife, though they got her in cuffs before any slicing or dicing could get underway."

At the other end of the hallway, she overheard Alvarez telling the story to a group of fellow officers. He said, "... I couldn't get the damned thing out of my bra. I almost blew my tits off…"

Harvey regained her attention. "Her credit card matches a purchase made online for Balsam oil, which she buys on the regular because she's the head pastor of Christ Light Baptist Church."

Madeline stared at him, mouth parted open. She just kept shaking her head. "But wait, there's more? You're giving me that look like there's more."

Harvey obliged with a sideways grin. "Her fingerprint matches a latent print that forensics pulled from the last motel room."

"Did she confess?"

"Praise be to God and Hallelujah." He kicked back his flask once more.

Madeline smiled. "That oughtta make Barnes do a snoopy dance."

"Eh, you know, we just caught your run of the mill bible-toting, psalm-praising xenophob who has this little proclivity for stabbing prostitutes on the sly." He shrugged it off. "Sort of groundbreaking and such. You know, no big thing."

Madeline squinted back at their suspect. "Why does she look like she's getting ready to officiate Ken and Barbie's beach wedding?"

"Get this. She was planning to go to night mass right after."

She looked at him over top her glasses. "Stabbing leads to a lot of blood everywhere. Was she going to make it there in time factoring in clean-up?"

He said simply, "She was a little less worried about that and a little more concerned with how her old man would take things. You should have seen her face when we told her we'd need to bring in her hubby to talk about her nighttime activities."

"Oops," she said. "Killing multiple people. Apparently it has consequences. I'm sure you explained that to her in full."

"That's the job," Harvey said. "Putting away murderers. Keeping the streets safe for the ladies and Alvarezes of the night."

Madeline tossed up her arms. "Thank God above." Then, a more sobering thought struck her. "I guess this means Alvarez is officially freed from his role as our resident Mrs. Doubtfire."

Harvey looked over her shoulder at his partner. "If he gets the itch again, he'll always have Halloween."

She breathed a nostalgic sigh as she let Harvey get back to work and accept his accolades from his fellow officers. She gave Alvarez her best 'atta girl' when she passed him in the hallway. She still hated Warden Grey and the detectives in Property Crimes, but she had to admit. Alvarez was starting to grow on her.

When she returned to her office, she had a voicemail waiting for her. The clear, accented voice of Alfred Pennyworth came through the speaker, letting her know that Bruce had returned home safely, in one piece to Wayne Manor. Madeline released a long breath of relief and mentally planned to return the call in the morning to put pressure on them to schedule a session sooner rather than later.

With her cell phone in hand, she then dialed a familiar number. He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, doc," Wilson said. "I thought we said we wouldn't catch up until the situation over here cooled off a little."

"I know," she said. "But I'm having a good day, and I could really use another rendition of my favorite bedtime story just to make my night complete."

She heard him sigh, but even over the phone, it sounded playful. "You really want to hear it again?"

Madeline grinned as she kicked back in her chair. "From the top, if you please."

Wilson lowered his voice. "Okay, so I'm running back to the infirmary, because Gordon decided that he could leave without Puck. That's when I see Grey leveling his gun at him. So I creep up nice and quiet like and that's when I take out my baton…"

(x)

A few hours later, Harvey sent his serial killer on her merry way up to the women's prison facility with a wave and a 'thanks for memories'. His shift was over, and he'd been about to hit the 'ole dusty trail, when he saw the light was still on in Madeline's office.

He plodded his way up and knocked 'shave and a haircut two bits' on her open door.

She flashed him a smile, and when she turned toward him, her red hair smoothly cascaded down over her shoulder. There were times when he'd been too aggravated at her or too distracted by obligation to notice. But he'd be damned if she didn't look just as achingly beautiful as ever.

She asked him, "Is the case of the Prostitute-Stabbing Femme Fatale finally closed?"

"Open and shut," he said. "Now that we wrapped up this little mystery, it's time to knock back a few down at the ale house." When Madeline nodded her understanding, he said, "I'm letting down the general public if I don't get drunk and stumble around. It's like they sort of expect it."

"You're a one man conga line."

Harvey scratched his head. "Alvarez and a few of the rookies are already way ahead of me. They're downstairs shaking their asses to trap-rap like a bunch of fools. They look like Indians dancing around a fire."

Madeline worked hard not to laugh. "What a progressive analogy."

"Aw, screw progressive," he said. "I'm an old man. I'm allowed to be insensitive. It's cute."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, I'm a cute curmudgeon. I complain about teenagers and the thermostat being set too high."

"Setting the temperature to sixty-five makes all the sense in the world. If you want to live like an Eskimo in an igloo."

It was an old argument. Harvey mock-yelled at her. "Stop turning up the heat. You're burning through money."

Madeline nodded her chin at him. "Hey, speaking of which, you lose power last night?"

Gotham. Come for the violent crime. Stay for the rolling blackouts. "Yeah, at like one a.m. I was standing in the kitchen naked eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon."

Madeline threw back her head and burst out laughing, the real one where she snorted and everything. When it tapered off, she said, "Did you put the spoon in the dishwasher?"

"Fuck no," he said easily. "I wasn't ready to commit. I might wanna use it to get more peanut butter later." He asked her, "How 'bout you? Your place go dark?"

"Yeah," she said. "I was watching The Purge when the lights went out."

"A horror movie? During a thunderstorm?" Maybe now she was trying to give herself panic attacks. "Did it give you the heebie jeebies?"

"I didn't get far enough into the movie for anything to happen. When the power went off, everyone was still in the house safe and warm." She shrugged. "So I still don't know how The Purge works. Do they provide you with a mask? Do you bring your own? I'll never know."

Harvey said, "It's all good. You live in Gotham. Around here, we just call The Purge Tuesday."

"I did stay up after that, but just so I could eat through all the ice cream."

"You got no choice. It was just gonna melt anyway."

"Exactly." Madeline started to set aside paperwork on her desk, actually trying to halfway organize it for once.

Harvey cast her a stare. There she sat perched in her desk chair, safe, comfortable, her cute psychologist thing dialed up to the max. He thought back to Zero Dark Blackgate, when he pulled her out of there in just the nick of time. He wondered if she knew how hard it was for him to watch her do it. How he saw danger coming and wanted nothing more than to get her out of harm's way.

He wouldn't have agreed to her little plan six years ago, that's for sure. Harvey bet that said something. Maybe he wasn't the only one trusting here. Through all this, he'd trusted her, too.

She noticed his staring. "And just what're you looking at?"

He smirked. "Haven't you heard? You're the babe all the meatheads around here most want to get into a full Nelson."

She rolled her eyes and made a face. "Yes, well, despite this, I've remained humble." Then she added, "Plus, it's only because Alvarez will no longer be in trotting around in heels and evening wear."

"He's pretty in that manly sort of way," Harvey said in a deep, gruff voice. "Standing next to him and Gordon makes me look bad. Between that and the beard, I'm giving Grizzly Adams a run for his money."

Madeline grinned. "I wouldn't worry about it. Some of us like our men with a little scuff. Or, y'know, a lot."

Harvey stepped a little further into her office. "You oughtta come out and keep Alvarez company. You girls can talk about the Chew and give each other make-up tips."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. He watched himself get all the way to full consideration level. Then she blinked suddenly. "Oh, you know what, I can't. I've got a session tonight."

He took the disappointment in stride. "You know what they say about all work and no play, doc."

"We'll rain-check. Scout's honor." Then she said, "Have a beer for me, would ya?"

"Are you kiddin'? I gotta pace myself these days." He ambled his way back to the door. "After all the death-defying criminal joyrides this week, I'm half an egg sandwich away from a coronary."

She mused on that. It seemed to birth a resulting thought. "...He hasn't signed back on yet, has he?"

Harvey knew exactly what she meant. "You know how that one goes. Time'll tell."

"He'll be back. Gordon's a lifer," she said with some certainty. "Just like someone else I know."

"Can't quit now. I'll lose my pension."

She leaned back comfortably in her chair. "You'll still be here a hundred years from now. Bitching and moaning about the rookies when really you've got their backs."

"All the rookies out there can take a number. I got all the excitement I can handle."

"Just as well. There's nothing you hate more than when things get boring and predictable." The minute he started to mutter a protest, she said loudly, "No matter what you say."

He looked her over once more and half-smiled. "Yeah, well, you don't realize an important piece is missing until that piece comes back and starts making your life an insane roller coaster where the tracks are out."

Madeline sent him an adoring smile. "I'm sure he missed you, too."

Harvey gave her a lazy salute, fit his hat on his head, and made his way down the hall. He huffed a short laugh to himself as he left.

Right. She still thought he was talking about Gordon.

(x)

Jim Gordon took his time strolling up the sidewalk. The sun went down hours ago, and the temperature dropped into the forties. But no matter how cold it got, that didn't stop him from enjoying the night breeze and staring up at the clear, starry sky. He wondered when it would get old, the sensation of being his own man, alive and free, walking around wherever and whenever he pleased. He hoped it would take awhile.

He paused when he reached the sandstone front of her office, empty except for a tiny gold metal plaque with her namesake and credentials. He scratched his head and looked down at his watch. After she risked death to see him in Blackgate, he figured the least he could do was show up a couple minutes early for his session.

Jim hopped up the steps and opened the front door, which she almost never kept locked. He said something to her about it once, and she bit back with something harsh and sarcastic. Apparently he pinched a nerve when all he meant to do was touch it. She softened, of course, once she realized. Made a joke about how maybe she should keep her door locked, but she didn't know why Jim ever would. How if anyone ever broke into his place, he'd probably just consider it entertainment.

He figured that said something about how she saw him, and given all the ways to be seen, that was one he could handle.

He stepped into the warm foyer and shed his jacket before he hung it up on the wooden coat rack. Then Jim walked up to her open doorway. Madeline hadn't seen him yet. She flitted about her office in her usual garb, cotton shirt and pencil skirt, addressing whatever therapists needed to address.

Jim found himself smiling slightly. Back in her office, she looked polished, poised, a woman committed to her profession and patients. Just as she should be.

He realized standing there could technically be considered lurking, so he loudly cleared his throat.

From behind her desk, Madeline lifted her head up suddenly and fixed her gaze on him.

Jim said, "I'm a few minutes early. Just wanted to let you know I'm in here."

He barely got the words out before she rushed up to him and grabbed him into a fierce embrace.

Jim sucked in a breath and his body went stiff as a rail. He blinked a few times as he stood rock-still, uncertain as to what to do or say. He hadn't expected this. Hugs didn't really ... exist in his world.

The longer they stood there with her arms wrapped around him and him not moving, not showing any sign of reciprocity, the more awkward he felt. He tried to think practically. He knew the polite thing to do would be to return the gesture, but he also knew that the absolute last thing Madeline wanted was for him to do it just because he thought he had to.

What did she want him to do?

He had the answer quicker than he expected. Like always, she wanted him to have what he wanted and needed most.

So … what did he want?

That stretch of land was too vast, too uncharted. It overwhelmed him to even try to narrow down anything he wanted at this point.

He moved onto the next question.

What did he need?

He hesitated for a long moment, letting the question sit in his mind.

Then Jim felt himself sink in just slightly. He closed his eyes and hugged her back.