Archive of Our Own

Harvey takes his parking spot across the renewed theater for tonight's gala. It's a very old building. Perfect for the event. it feels like they're working towards something again . He feels overly conscious about the black and white, split down the middle shoulder length wig on their head, however. It might be too bold with their black and white suit. Like Arkham prison jumpsuits, Harv internally says, snickering at Harvey. 

Eddie Nygma groans, leaning back on the passenger's seat. “Jeez, Harv. Your parking, heh, leaves a lot to be desired.” He taps the floor with his cane for emphasis. “I know you are about as reclusive as a double headed hermit crab but. Why aren't your men accompanying you today of all days?” Eddie asks. He has that green bowler hat on and a green coat covered in black question marks. Harv feels something close to envy. “Query and Echo had today off and– Oh, is it because–?”

Harvey turns the key, and the engine sputters an odd sounding final breath. This old thing needs maintenance. “We don't want to be seen with you longer than I have to.”

Harvey knows he struck a nerve because Eddie tries really hard to laugh it off. “Aww! Harv, I promise not to put you or your people’s lives at risk again. Honest mistake! pinkie swear, hehe. But must I remind you of the time your databases got hacked and I fixed it all for you? I swear I wouldn't ask you if I didn't need a ride.” He undoes his seat belt. 

Harvey undoes his too. While Harvey would pay Eddie's empty promises and thinly veiled threats no mind, Harv is much easier to rile up. “Oh, shut up. If everyone sees us together again, I'll have to explain why we didn't just shoot you last time… What if they think I got a plus one…?" Harv and Harvey would never hear the end of it. 

That's one aspect of working with people they detest. All the assumptions. They are tired of the rumors about the bat which are… Not unfounded. Harv would rather not think about it. It's humiliating on all fronts. Internally, Harv can feel Harvey's smug grin. You liiiiike him. I do not. Not romantically. I still don't. 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Oh, aren't you a Casanova. Now, don't get me wrong, you are as cute as a… newly minted silver dollar. But, is that a rational assumption for them to make when your men think you'd never stop crying about that ex-wife of yours?” 

Dent’s blood boils. but they lost the coin toss earlier and this is the result. They could’ve left Eddie at the door, ignored him the whole way to the car, but…  now they're stuck with Eddie Nygma for as long as it is entertaining to him. Only this once. Only this once.

But Harvey had enough, he doesn't want to lose it this early in the night. He opens the door to climb out. He slams the door shut with Riddler’s muffled voice behind. This is supposed to be their, Harv and Harvey’s night off, the chance for every rogue to stop being at each other's throats if only for a few hours… And being annoying isn't a crime. There's no justice flipping his coin against Eddie again if he hasn't done anything yet, anyway. 

The other door opens. Harvey is already on the stairs. “Ugh,” he hears Eddie say as the door closes. “Who pissed in your cereal this morning?”

Harvey palms his pockets as he crosses the street. Wallet. Check. House and car keys. Check. Gloves. Check. Guns. Check. Gas mask. Check. 

A snort from Eddie, he's now walking beside Harv. “Ignoring me won't make me go away, you know? Just ask my family. I think they got one or two warrants against me by now–”

Okay. If Harvey doesn't bring up the wig, maybe no one will. Harv growls in their head. Ugh, stoooop. You gave me the go ahead! It's as much your fault as it is mine. 

“And what's with the hair?” Eddie asks as they make it into the line by the entrance. Harvey is… happy to see so many people came. Out of the corner of Dent's good eye he can see Eddie examining their outfit for the night. So much for their efforts. Eddie smirks. “Mid mid life crises?”

Harvey tries very hard not to fix the wig as Eddie says it. He pulls out his wallet with his old driving permit. “It's a new thing we are trying.” Maybe if the Dent system convince themselves it’s true, everyone else will believe them.

“... Huh. Weird. You do you… Hmm. ‘Two twins that never meet, always in step but never a beat. Who are we?’”

Harvey purses his lips. Eddie is pushing his boundaries again. Harvey always, always loses his games. The only way to win is with the gun. He won't think about it. He won't think–

Harv on the other hand is proud to have the answer. “Shoes!” 

Eddie gasps, all exaggerated as usual. “Good job, Dent,” he even claps, making the people ahead of them turn around. “You got that one right. Keep at it and maybe you’ll get to my level.”

Despite the insult, Harv beams with pride, in their headspace nudging Harvey harshly for refusing to try. Did Harvey mention he has a ban on Eddie’s riddles when they work together? It must be force of habit on Eddie’s side and he’s willing to give him a pass. But Harvey's not lifting it. 

When it's finally their turn it takes the bouncer a few glances and a good look at their driving license to realize that he's eyeing The Two Face and not some cosplayer. The guns definitely help. But he lets Harvey and Eddie in without much of a fuss, otherwise. 

Now in the main hall, it's Harvey's turn to examine Eddie. “So you were invited. Why would Cobblepot let you in? Or was it Sionis?”

“I have no clue. A truce? A demand for my services? Mine wasn't meant to arrive? Either way, I'm here,” Eddie puts his hands on his waist, smug. 

Harvey hums. “You stole it.”

“No, I didn't!” Eddie says. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I get along with you and your, kingpin kind, just fine! Even if you can't appreciate my wit, my intelligence, my charm– yeah, I scanned yours. Stealing from you is easier than I expected. No wonder Catwoman does it all the–”

“You–” Harv and Harvey's insides boil and sizzle at the idea. That’s, IT. Harvey fishes for the coin. He flips it. “FUCK.” Came up heads in Eddie's favor. We don't argue with the coin. We don't argue with the coin–

Eddie takes a step back. “It's just innocent, run of the mill fraud. It’s no biggie. Your little ‘Gotham Super Criminal Fashion Gala’ board doesn’t care. You could've given this place more security, maybe you guys should've tried harder at keeping me out.”

Harv growls. “Why the fuck do you care about fashion? You dress in green. All the time.”

“Woah, woah! Talk about projection, Harvey!” Eddie says, becoming agitated. “And so what? I can't just take myself out on dates anymore? On a Friday night? Is that a crime? I had to… Scheme! do something! I couldn’t just stand by and let you have all the fun! If anything, Sionis, Cobblepot and you should be thanking me for taking interest in your stupid little charity.”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “It’s not charity,” Harvey says. Harv braces himself for a lecture because of course College Boy has a whole thesis. “It's not a fundraiser, it's the celebration of a project. We, as established criminals, deserve our own shit. Our own brand. Gone are the days of blackmailing tailors just to find something comfortable to wear with all the mending we need. Or scrapping for whatever has been dumped in a landfill, you should see the kind of mess that makes. Everyone deserves their own clothes. So it was only fair that we found a real solution. We've paid some of our people to learn the art of sewing, tailoring and textile design so that we don’t have to wear those ugly prison jumpsuits while we're working. This way–”

“Huh, no wonder you made it so far as a DA.” 

Harvey feels pride at the comment until he notices Riddler is not paying attention anymore. His eyes are on the paintings of the hall. Harvey pinches his nose. 

“You actually buy your own bullshit…” Riddler says, walking closer to one. “You sound so… arrogant.”

Harvey takes a deep breath. “Pot meet kettle...” he mutters. Luck is not on his side tonight. Then, Harv recognizes a man he has seen contesting for territory… King Sword? King Scimitar? crossing the hall. The guy, dressed in a golden sparkly suit stops and frowns upon seeing them. He eyes the wig, then, when he meets Harvey's eyes, his widen in horror when he realizes who he's looking at. He shrinks in on himself and walks faster inside. 

A rich familiar laugh, shocks Dent into the present. “Always posturing…” says a very familiar voice. A woman with long flaming red hair in an updo and a very green, likely alive, dress. 

“Pam,” Harvey says, clearing his throat and instinctively straightening up. She smirks as she approaches. Eyes green and lips red and sharp. She looks gorgeous. Her dress shows a bit of shoulder and leg. Harvey wasn’t expecting that, Harv feels envy again. Why does everyone look better than us?

“Harvey,” Pam says, leveling her gaze. “Harv.”

Harv tilts their head, smirking. “Pamela. Looks like you made it. You look nice tonight.”

“Can't say the same about you,” Pam says, words sharp and disinterested, very unlike her searching eyes looking for a button to push. for something to latch onto and pick at. Harv recoils though he prays Harvey will never mention it. “Nice wig,” she says. “Not something I'd wear. For the occasion I assume?”

I told you the blasted wig wouldn't work. 

Harvey clears his throat. “It's part of a… concept. Our associates have been working on some really interesting designs and I thought we… would shake things up a bit.”

Pamela narrows her eyes. “Organic fibers?”

“All organic. For now, everything is recycled and soon we’ll go locally sourced.” Harvey says. Gotham loves to throw all sorts of still usable shit away. That's how Harv and Harvey keep sourcing their suits. Nothing will ever take the Narrows out of Dent. 

But, of course they were going for organic stuff. They don’t want to run the risk of Pam halting their production. And Harvey would like to believe he’s saving the planet as much as he’s saving Gotham, even if others might not care as much. That's one of the things he admired about her when they… anyway.

Pamela immediately turns to Eddie. “And you are with them.”

“We're not,” Harvey jumps to say. “We are just helping him out,” Harv says, making Harvey face-palm internally. 

She found their weakness. Pam turns to Harvey then, green eyes wide in delight. “So, it is true you left the bat for the green boytoy.”

Eddie twirls his cane and makes a loud buzzer noise. “They're too stupid for me.”

“No!” Harvey yells, before clearing his throat. “He's too annoying for us,” Harv grumbles. 

“Right,” Pam says, amused. Suddenly the room smells like roses and lavender. “Thanks for the invite. Tell Cobblepot and Sionis I love to be of service,” she says, turning around and heading to the main hall where she's led by a woman to refreshments. 

Eddie uses his cane to tap Harvey in the chest. He looks at Dent with suspicion. “Why is Poison Ivy in speaking terms with you?”

Now, it's Harvey's turn to be smug, finally, something Eddie doesn't know. Harvey doubts he's ever been with anyone in his life. “Oh, I wonder why that might be?”

Eddie lowers the cane and leans on it. “Well, maybe the source can open one of their mouths and tell me. You are a mystery, Dent. Unapproachable yet honest, emotional and crass…” 

Harvey is tuning him out by then. He walks toward the entrance to the hall but stops himself. So many people in one room. A concert's worth? Harvey can’t put a number on it. They really came to the event. 

“But, oh, so eager to prove yourself, huh?” Eddie adds, raising an eyebrow and heading over to the main hall where Pam disappeared. 

Harvey huffs and pays the jab no mind. He just forgets, a lot. Him and Harv make things contradictory for the other. And the Pam thing? it's not shit worth sharing anyway. Harvey nor Harv would ever– okay, yeah, they are secretive. Though, Harv is less forgetful, mostly because he doesn't always have four trains of thought crashing all at once. 

Harvey takes his time to join the hall alongside Eddie. He would like to be by himself as long as possible or they won't last till the end of the night. Too many new faces, unfamiliar encounters that can't be solved by pulling out a gun and making it worse for themselves. It gives the Dent system the creeps. 

When Harvey finally joins, he finds Eddie next to the snack table. Harvey grabs a glass of wine and a bag of spicy chips, Harv’s idea. Why did the catering make tuna salad? At least there's tea and mini sandwiches, obviously Cobblepot’s idea. Who ordered tuna? Who even likes that? 

“So?” Eddie asks, lingering in Harvey’s presence. Dent opens the bag right then and there. He offers Eddie some which he takes. He stubbornly remains there, waiting through Dent’s crunching.

Harvey supposes he can share. It's not a secret after all. Like with the bat– “We occasionally work together… and we went out together. Once.”

Eddie chuckles in surprise. Harvey rolls his eyes and focuses on finishing the snack. Wigs take a long time to put on and he didn't get a chance to grab anything for dinner… or lunch … Or go to the grocery store… or arrange the pantry and fridge like he promised Harv he would. You drank all my iced tea. We are the same body. But I wanted to enjoy it, asshole. 

Eddie seems satisfied. “And you fumbled the bag.”

Harvey folds the empty bag a little too passionately before throwing it away in a nearby bin. It's not worth thinking about. “You seem awfully interested in our romantic life, Eddie.”

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, is that a warning, you double headed brute?”

It feels good, the flash before the bang. Before Harvey knows it, Harv is lifting Eddie by the lapels and pinning Eddie against a pillar close to the table. Despite Dent's less than ideal physical condition and diet, they can still wrangle Eddie Nygma wherever they want. 

Dent can hear people whispering. Harvey makes sure to look into Eddie's eyes. “I appreciate you as a colleague, Eddie. I want this night to go as smoothly as possible. Important people are here. No riddles, no schemes and no psychoanalyzing. Consider this your second warning, Riddler. You know we don't like odd numbers.”

Eddie swallows and raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I hear ya big guy. I hear ya.”

Harvey sighs, putting the guy down on the floor. It's going to be a long night. But it can't get worse. 

Eddie grabs another bag and loses himself in the crowd with a shudder. Once alone, Dent takes the chance to scan the room. They find Cobblepot and Sionis talking in the distance and decides to make himself known. The conversation is polite but barbed enough. They mention art collections, helping the local businesses and new business endeavors, state and city programs they can use to their advantage. Harvey sees Cobblepot shift. Expressione more smug than usual, eyeing Dent above his eye level and Dent braces themselves for the worst.

Cobblepot eyes shine with sadistic glee. “Bwah, bwah! I couldn't help but notice the… thing on your head. It is not the Halloween gala yet, Dent. What happened to your hair?”

Then, Sionis turns to look at him, shamelessly examining Dent's shitty wig. “I wasn't going to say anything but… What, is it part of your gimmick now?”

Vultures. They are sadistic vultures. Harvey fiddles with a glass of wine he must have grabbed at some point. “It's, uh, part of the gang's concept. Thought I'd support them and sport it.”

Oswald visibly turns his nose. “Well, at least half the time your loyalty was always one of your more admirable qualities. You look like a cheap David Bowie clone in that. Or is it Cruella de Vil cosplay?” A cackle.

Roman snorts, taking a drink. “You are really admirable in your support toward your team,” a giggle from Roman of all people. “It takes guts showing up like that in public.”

Stupid, they are calling us stupid, Harv supplies. Well, now Harvey feels compelled to defend his people's artistic vision and their efforts. Maybe his wig sucks. Maybe it doesn't suit him. But the concept is good. Civvies wished they could wear this shit. They're gonna wish they can soon. And a little humiliation won't stop them. 

“Well, that isn't a fair assumption to make,” Harvey says and he can hear the sighs coming from Sionis and Cobblepot. “I say we let the judges decide which is the most stylish criminal organization in Gotham.”

Cobblepot cackles. “Sure thing, Dent. Sure. May the best gang win and all that.”

Now they're making fun of him. It's high time he left for his seat for the show. “Has the Joker arrived?” Dent asks, taking a sip of wine. Harv internally recoils in the sweet taste while Harvey holds back a grimace as he realizes he doesn't want an ounce of alcohol in him before midnight. 

“He has,” Sionis says, nodding behind Harvey. 

Dent turns around to see Joker in his usual purple and green outfit, surrounded by his own henchpeople. Dent hopes the anti-gas attack system can cover whatever he could be cooking up. It does help to know he's not on his own in case something does go wrong. He doubts anyone in the room wants to be subjected to Joker's flavor of the month toxin if they can help it. 

It doesn’t take too long for them to move on to the runway section of the event. Henchpeople sit by the sidelines while the leaders of their respective gangs circle the runway. The judges consist of one henchperson from each gang, an ally cop, an ex-Arkham therapist, Pamela Isley and Harleen Quinzel. On second thought, Harv isn’t sure how many groups have attended. Wasn’t Roman supposed to check?

They have more security protocols in case anyone has funny business planned but Harvey would like to believe they could get along for the night. Maybe it should've gone to the entrance as Eddie said. Ugh. 

Harvey takes his seat and wishes he could sit in the back. He had one drink and he wishes someone brought something stronger even if he doesn't like it. Harv sighs. You just have bad taste and just live with it, don't you?

Beside him sits a man in a trench coat which would normally sound the alarm for Harv and Harvey but Harvey immediately recognizes the guy from the single match in his mouth. 

Harvey elbows the man into almost dropping the match off his mouth. “Matches.”

“Boss,” Matches Malone leans back with a grin. A sense of calm floods both Harv and Harvey. “Nice event you got here.”

Harv grins back. “How's business? Made up with your wife yet?”

Matches snorts, the sunglasses barely conceal the curious glances he gives to the guests. “The usual, the usual. This event of yours, boss is… It is something alright. People talk and they are interested in it. Could spell something even better for us.”

Dent can't help but feel a little proud. They keep smiling despite themselves. When was the last time everyone came together to do something enriching? When was the last time they were part of something good? “Ah, maybe we can make it a yearly thing. We'd have more influence in the city…. And we'd dress better.”

Malone nods. “Dress better. That's right…”

They always felt better with the guy around. Trustworthy. Good work ethic. Matches Malone may have different reasons for staying in the business but Dent is glad to see they were invited and they decided to come. 

The clicking of heels snaps Harvey out of reminiscing. “Huh, I guess you do have better taste than I expected.”

It's Pam, again. A hand on her hip, a mission in her eyes. 

Matches seems taken aback by her presence. He tips his hat at her. “Miss Isley.”

“And you are?” she puts her hand on her hip. 

“Matches, Matches Malone, miss.”

“Hmm,” Ivy says, sitting on the temporarily empty spot beside Dent, away from Matches. “I've seen him before somewhere.” She says then she turns to Harvey. “Since I'm about to join the judges’ bench with my girlfriend… You know, I was thinking about, us. When we… You know. And I feel… Not bad, but I feel I should make it up to you somehow.”

Harvey doesn't know what to say. He… Appreciates her idea of making amends but… “That's good, I appreciate it.” It seems suspicious.

Pam grins. “You better not expect much from me, but I wanted to give you this,” she says, opening her small purse and taking a tub of something. The packaging is green as most of the stuff she produces looks. “My sincerest apology. It's for your face. It won't fix it, but it will help your chronic pain by soothing reconnecting some nerves.”

Now Harvey is sweating. Things going this well can't be possible. Ivy can't be actually–

“Thank you, Pam. And I don't expect us to get along. The past is the past,” Harvey says, grabbing the tub. It'd be rude to say no. And maybe going along with it might invite some of her mercy. She's the one with powers, after all. All Dent has is a laundry lists if diagnoses, two guns and a dream. 

Pam snorts. She crosses her arms and sits back. “Remember when you took me to a ball like this?”

“Right, we talked about a mall they were making illegally over a protected area. You tried to murder me after.” Harvey tries not to sound bitter. But the incident occurred before they properly became ‘two face’ after all. It was a long time ago. Before Bruce presented Gilda to Harvey, even. He wasn't angry, per se. More disappointed. More tender. 

“Hmm, I guess so. You were really sweet, if not for a little… too earnest, right, Mr Malone?”

“Pardon me?” Matches startles.

“Harvey. They're really sweet. Very earnest, honest work…”

Matches plays with the match in his mouth, glancing warily between Two Face and Ivy. “I guess so, miss.”

Then a shrill voice cuts through the atmosphere making everyone turn to it. “Ivy!!! Eye-vyy!!! Where. Are. Youuu~???” 

Dent would recognize that voice anywhere. 

“Oh, shit. It's her. gotta go.” Ivy says. She stands up and turns to Harvey. She smiles. “it was nice talking to you,” she says before she kisses his cheek. There's that sweet lavender smell again before she retreats to the judges’ table. 

“Huh,” Harvey says. 

“She's uh, a nice lady.”

“No, no. That was weird. Wasn't it?” But Dent doubts Matches knows Ivy enough for him to catch one. For better and for worse Harvey knows how she is and something is very off, he can feel it. 

Matches shrugs. He chews on the match. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Dent catches the Joker approaching and they resist the urge to flinch as joker finds his seat. Harvey hopes avoiding his gaze will also spare him any dangerous schemes. 

“Oh! Look at that! That’s my name!” Joker says. He twirls before sitting down. He's one chair away from Harvey, away from Matches’ side. He’s lanky and it’s as though the chair couldn’t hope to fit him. He relaxes then, extending his legs and almost making three people walk by trip at the same time. He cackles. “Didn't take you for the stylish type, Dent.” He moves his hand to his face as if to whisper. “I like the wig! It gives you a little edge. You look, not serious.” A guffaw. 

Oh fuck. Dent must look terrible, then. He resists the urge to swallow, and more importantly, to just rip the thing off of his head right then and there. “Just supporting my associates in their endeavors.”

“Oooh, teamwork makes the dream work.” Then he turns serious, voice low and meeting Harvey's eyes. “But you gotta watch it. We're coming for the gold, Mr lawyer.”

It ignites a sense of competition in Dent. But there's no use arguing with Joker of all people. “May the best man win.”

Joker grins, wider than usual and goes back to sitting, staring straight ahead. He closes his eyes. 

Scarecrow plops down beside Dent and with the mask it's hard to determine if he just arrived or if he's been avoiding people the same way Dent has. Harvey clears his throat. Scarecrow keeps his head down and tries very hard to ignore him. 

Harvey doesn't remember ever getting along with him. Not really. Oh well. It's not like Harvey isn't used to difficult social interactions. He should ask for feedback, right? “Dr. Jonathan Crane, how's your night going?”

Crane pretends he just noticed Harvey sitting next to him. “Oh, Dent and Dent. It's… Good. Pleasant…. Nice.”

Harvey finds himself nodding, equally avoiding Crane's eyes. What the hell are you doing? That’s enough. Pee break. Now. 

“I’m glad”

“It’s intriguing” Crane says, watching the crowd. “Why a group of people with differing goals would attend an event like this. Money aside of course. There’s a human factor.  The need that even criminals need for morale is worth studying.

It dawns on him then that extracting feedback is kinda pointless, plus, the last thing he wants is to annoy Crane into a fear gas attack. Dent may be able to walk off some of the effects, but it can become disorienting to him to the point of not being able to feel anything but anger and stay upright.

“Excuse me,” Harvey says, getting up. And walking away. 

“Well, don't let me stop you…”  Dent hears Crane mutter as they leave. 

Harvey avoids people's gazes as he walks off. Another thing becomes apparent as Harv was desperately trying to call Harvey’s attention. They're becoming overstimulated, and an overstimulated two face is going to kill somebody. 

Harvey runs inside the bathroom and into the empty stalls. He does his business then decides to plop down on the covered toilet seat. Dent huffs, letting their head fall on the door. How did they manage in their lawyer days? He can feel Harv doing the internal equivalent of glowering at him but says nothing. 

Harvey looks at their watches. They should take five minutes. Five minutes uninterrupted. Or, as uninterrupted as you can be in a relatively public bathroom stall. The door opens then, and two pairs of shoes walk in. 

“I'm serious, man. Please, Matches.”

“Can't help you,” Matches’ voice echoes in the room. It is always soothing to Dent. “As much as I'd like to… You have no prospects.”

“WHAT? I have a gimmick! And the motivation! I need to network out there. Please, just, help me.”

“Condiments aren't an attractive brand. I will suggest something to you, kid. Will you hear me out?”

There's a pause. 

“If you are this desperate for money, head over to these offices. My associate will gladly help. Say I sent ya and he'll offer you a stable job no questions asked. And no offense but… There's better things you can do.” 

The man makes a sound close to a squeal. “Oh-oh, thank you, Mr Malone!”

“Just remember you owe me one. And no problem, kid.”

Dent find themselves grinning. Masterclass in problem solving. Fuck, they have so much to learn from Matches still. He always ends up surprising them. 

Both men leave the bathroom shortly after. Harvey checks his watch. Now's the time. 

Dent washes their hands because that’s something Harvey would never forget, and through the corner of their eye they see someone standing quietly by the end of the room. Looks like Dent's unwinding time is officially over. 

A breath. “Harvey Dent,” comes the warbled hiss of a mysterious person with a red mask on their face.

Harv frowns, recognition sparking at the tone.

At the end of the room is Red Hood. Same guy he got into a fight with once. Red didn't bother to dress for the occasion, of course, opting for some kind of combat attire. Harv grabs a paper towel, wondering why Red here hasn't jumped on him yet and dries his hands. It's not the first nor will it be the last time someone tries to kill Dent. Approaching them in the bathroom is a low blow, though. 

Harv crumples the towel and throws it away before facing his potential attacker. Seeing Red stand there ominously without a weapon out compels Harv to open his big mouth, much to Harvey's dismay. “Well, have fun, kid. Don't drink and drive and don't stay out late unless you want your parents to send a search party for you.”

The goading isn't effective. “We still have business to address.” 

Red sounds so young. Harvey feels… grief, on his behalf. Harvey, to a stranger. Because he knows what happened. It's hard not to when Bruce had it written all over his face and made it everyone's problem. It's also not the first time Dent met Jason, the kid, before Red Hood, the criminal. 

Harvey assumes why he's here. It's about that deadbeat in their pasts. Bad business partner, irresponsible and dangerous. A disappointment both at work and at home. Dent still stands by their decision. He had to die sooner or later. 

Harv rolls his eyes. “Do we have to do this today?” he reaches for his holster. “ Tomorrow is always an option, y'know? I'm sure you know better ways to kills us outside of accosting us in a public bathroom.”

Red takes a step forward. “You scared, old man?”

Harv shrugs. “I don't mind dying for what I believe in.”

Red makes a noise, something between a laugh and a sob. He takes another step forward, hands in his pockets. “I know that very well. I've been… Researching. Willis Todd, replaying… and I–”

He pauses. Hesitates. Harvey recognizes the Wayne-isms in a lot of his disciples. Maybe in another life, that could've been used for a different purpose. The kid huffs, glancing at the side where the mirrors are, then back at Harvey, still not saying anything. 

Harv raises an eyebrow. Slowly, and as subtle as possible, looking for their gun in their jacket. “Not a good man, huh.”

“Neither are you,” Red adds quickly. “But. I realize… Fuck.” he grunts, looking away, again. “You… You've seen things. You understand, right? This city. This shit happens a lot. What happened… To us. Our pasts… we would've ended up the same either way.”

Harv can't help it, he laughs, startling both Harvey and Jason. “Who's we? Hell of a realization, isn't it?”

Red pauses again. Then he takes a step back, graceful like the undead. “Forget it, Dent. Enjoy your little ball. I'll see you tomorrow. Make amends tonight.” 

Don't you dare try to talk to him. Harvey wins control of the mouth then by sheer conviction. “Kid,” Harvey says. The kid stays still again. He's been hesitating this whole time. What is he doing here if not revenge? 

A man in a suit enters the room, whistling. He startles glancing at them both. Upon realizing there might be a fight happening he runs toward a stall, grabs a roll of toilet paper and bolts out.

Harvey snorts. This is such a stupid conversation to have inside a bathroom. “You want a hug with that? Someone to tell you it's going to be fine? That you made the right choice?” Harvey believed it once and now they are Two Face. 

The kid's shoulders slump slightly. He's not angry enough to make another threat. Harvey takes a step forward and grabs the kid’s shoulder, making him look up. 

“None of those exist,” Harvey moves forward, wrestling for speech. Sentimental asshole. But Harv doesn't want to give up more time, not when the kid is as deadly as the bat. “Alternate routes don't exist, kid. We make ‘em.” Harv jabs his finger in the kid’s armored chest. “ Imagine, you survive against the odds and no one likes it. Suddenly, you are a problem to be solved, a flaw to be hidden.”

The kid stays very quiet as Harv gives him his little speech. Harv means it, they both know it.

“You are on your own against your friends and colleagues. So why not enact your own brand of justice like you've been doing? One day your tricks will stop working and your crusade will be over… Be honest, be loud and proud because no one cares about you either way, but you won’t turn the other cheek.”

The kid stares for a moment then shrugs Harv's hand off. “You'll pay for what you've done, soon.” he starts walking away. When he's by the door, he snorts. “Thanks for the advice.”

Harv doesn't lower his guard until Red Hood is gone. Once more, Eddie's hypothesis of implementing more security is proven correct. Anyone can get in, apparently. 

Harvey checks his watch; the runway part is about to begin. It takes 15 minutes for everyone to sit and 5 more to get the lights to work how they want. As Harvey sits, he can hear Cobblepot complain faintly through the sound system as the lights are coordinated and he's thrust into the spotlight. 

Cobblepot extends the microphone’s cable and smiles. “Ladies and gents! Welcome, to the first ever Gotham Underworld Annual Fashion Night!”

Harvey resists a frown. Of course, Oswald used their inventive name without credit. 

“Today, we will see what Gotham’s gangs have to offer in the area of F-fashion! Two outfits will be presented, one for the boss and another for the employees, which will be scored. Once all have been presented the judges will take some time to discuss their decisions and will promptly reveal the true winner, earning the title of ‘Gotham’s underground most stylish entrepreneur’... and a million dollars.”

Everyone cheers and claps loudly at that, making Dent grimace. 

“And with that, we begin,” Oswald says, clapping with the audience. 

An overhead speaker grumbles to life: “UP NEXT: THE PENGUIN COLLECTIVE.”

Penguin’s comes first of course. A pinstripe, navy blue suit tailored to the man sporting it under a thick long coat with fuzzy parts at the ends. He wears a monocle and a top hat, and behind him a goon wearing a jumpsuit, a coat with fuzzy ends and a bowler hat. They pose at the end of the runway in what could belong in a magazine.

Harvey claps and everyone slowly starts following suit. Harvey is a good sport. He recognizes effort where there's any. Dent isn't a cheater in any way, and he will give Penguin one thing, Harvey wants that coat. 

As the models show off the designs, the overhead lights suddenly turn off. Harvey stands up on instinct, Matches Malone follows immediately after. 

The lights come back on but bright green, question marks riddle the walls and ceiling. 

Oh, this too? It’s on , Eddie. 

“Ladies and gentlemen! –men –men,” the audio is distorted on purpose. Harvey grits his teeth. “Welcome to the first… and last! Villains fashion Gala.”

Now, where the fuck is he? Harvey scans the room. 

“Performing now: Riddler!” the announcer, Eddie's voice really, announces. Then there's a projection of a guy standing. Riddler bows. He's wearing his domino mask and a bowler hat with a question mark on it. He leans on his cane. 

Dent recognizes the background. It's backstage. Harvey flips his coin. Heads, he beats him unconscious. Tails, gun. 

“Hello, Gotham!” he says. “You must be wondering, why would the Riddler interrupt your evening activities? Why would Eddie Nygma lower himself to the likes of a fashion show organized by the richest criminals in Gotham?”

Result is Tails. 

Dent stomps their way backstage as Eddie talks. It's not the gas attack he expected but he doubts Eddie accounted for keeping Harvey's attention away from silencing him for too long. Gotta move fast. 

As everyone is busy running outside and leaving Harvey makes his way through the corridors backstage lined with doors to the models’ rooms. Harvey slams them open, seething more and more each time. He doesn't notice when Harv has pulled out a gun. 

“Very smart questions, by the way. Easy. You fucking forgot me! You thought I, the great Eddie Nygma, wouldn't notice you left me to die on my own! You don't want to talk to me. You don't wanna work with me when I could be a great addition to your roster. The batman isn't smarter than me. What more could you want ?!”

Harvey opens one door and on the other side is Edward Nygma in front of his camera, livestreaming his little stunt. He turns at the door opening and screeches, grabbing his cane and wields it like a sword. 

“Oh, Eddie. You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Harvey smirks, pointing their guns at him. “You won't escape me, asshole. Not this time.”

Then Dent is…. Swept away and pushed to the side and into another wall by a tremendous force. It strangles him and squeezes him. It smells like lavender and roses. Dent is now upside down. 

“Ivy,” Harvey croaks. 

She leans down to see him with a grin. Harvey hears Riddler scream not that far away from them. 

Ivy smirks. “Riddler beat me to the punch, but who wouldn't want to crash Harvey Dent's precious event?” she pouts mockingly. 

“Why does,” Harvey groans. These vines are rough on them. “Everyone think it was my idea?” Harvey wheezes. They can’t breathe. “This. You. You were trying to mind control me this whole time. Holy shit.”

Ivy shrugs. “I'll figure it out someday, and for your information?” she says. “You may be a sweet date, but you still support mass exploitation. You still don't care about the environment, and you are killing the planet with your banal display of luxury. Even if you're not solely responsible, you are part of the problem. It is who you work for.”

“Penguin put in most of the money,” Harvey croaks. He is reminded of how his own goons betray him with batman in precisely the same position. But this is what desperation sounds like in a guy. Harvey should've kept his mouth shut. “What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

Her face twists in rage and before Harvey can register his ribcage isn't moving. Then, her gigantic vines holding him drop them on the floor with a heavy thud. 

Dent's vision becomes blurrier and blurrier by the minute but they can make out a dark figure approaching him and kneeling to check on him. Looks like Red Hood's appointment with Two Face has been rescheduled in hell. 

Dent comes to with chilly air around him, a ton of it suspiciously on top of his head, and the smell of fire burning away their nostrils. Their hands register the weird plush but stiff surface of a stretcher under him. Harvey blinks a few times before he sits up. He's by an ambulance. And there's cops and firefighters herding people out by the outside of the now burning building where the Gala was supposed to take place. 

Harvey's mouth twists in disappointment. Oh. Oh, of course this is how his night ends. So much effort wasted and– See? This is what I was protecting you from. Fuck you, asshole. Told you it was a bad idea. Now Harv is ranting at him. As stubborn as a mule. What? How did this happen–? Eddie. EDDIE. 

Harvey scans the area. Eddie must be there. He must have been mind-controlled by Ivy. There's no way he got out before Harvey. Not if the bat–

“Bald.” 

Harvey turns and startles at the sight of a small dark figure perched close to the stretcher. He's heard of her. One of the damn bats. “Batmite? - no, Batgirl. You look different.”

Her mask is creepy, all stitched up and pitch black. They like it. By their name he assumes they go by she. She tilts her head. “Why bald?”

“That's a rude question,” Harvey says, scrambling to keep his dignity while half out of it. “You don't know what someone might be going through.” Hell, he doesn’t know what he was going through when he made the decision to buzz his head off.

She seems in on the joke. It's not curiosity. She's ragging on him. “If fashion show, why look bad?”

Dent needs to find Eddie right now.

“– Laughing gas, scarecrow gas, Ivy poisons. What the hell were you thinking?!” A youthful, annoying, voice demands. Speaking of bats. 

“It wasn’t me! It just– o-oh my god!” Eddie.

Harvey sees them coming. Nightwing keeps up with Eddie’s hands from behind as Eddie doubles over in laughter, making Nightwing have to pull him up constantly. 

RIDDLER is LAUGHING. AT THEM. “My, What’s shiny, empty, half pain and half sorrow?”

Harvey squeezes his hands into fists, teeth cracking from how hard he’s clenching. At the words, he jumps off the stretcher. As his feet land on the asphalt his left arm is yanked back. He turns to it. He's handcuffed to the damn stretcher. 

Batgirl shrugs, kicking the small wheel stoppers with her foot. 

Harv sighs internally. Harvey growls before his sights are back on Eddie. Where are their guns? “I dare you. I double dare you to answer that stupid riddle!” He struggles against it but to no avail. “If you even think–”

Eddie mocks him by inhaling deeply and pretending to hold back. Then he lets the air go, snorts and says: “It’s you. You’re bald, Dent.”

Harv feels a surge of electricity and he gets off the stretcher again and half waddles, half runs, hands with the goal of wringing Ed’s neck. “YOU–”

Then a formidable force yanks Dent back by the wrist and he almost falls on his ass. Okay, Batgirl’s neck is next. 

“Harvey.” Oh no, no, no. Not the bat.

As if this night can’t get any worse. Batman has landed in front of them. Of course. Of course!

“Batman,” Dent says conversationally, getting up with difficulty to face him. They will keep their dignity as they go down. “How’s your night? I’m sure you are up to date with the happenings tonight. Are you here to give me hair care tips? fashion tips? gonna smack me into the FLOOR and send us BACK to ARKHAM?” 

This is unfair. So unfair. Something about Batman… Bruce seeing them when their plans don’t work out. It fucking sucks major dick. 

Batman purses his lips. “Don't raise your voice at me. We can talk.” He narrows his eyes. “Good job, Batgirl. Nightwing. I rescued the remaining victims. So far, I’ve only found structural and material damages. Miss Isley is gone,” Then his whited out eyes lock on Harvey, as if he has something else to say.

Harvey crosses his arms, daring him to mention the elephant in the room. “Well? any thoughts?” Bruce isn’t rude, with Batman it depends, but outright calling Harvey ugly, although unlikely, is a possibility. It… would definitely ruin Harvey’s night. Harv internally elbows Harvey’s ribs. Good use of our brain, genius. Always ahead of the emotional breakdown, if you think any harder, we will have to ditch our therapist and ask the damned soul of Joker for a treatment plan.

Then, Nightwing snorts. He pulls Eddie up as he has stopped struggling. “I think B wants to know why both sides of your head are bare. Did you…really shave your head for the bit?”

Harv throws himself forward in hopes they can bring the stretcher with them as they pummel Nightwing. It refuses to help and stays immobile, making Dent slip on the wet ground and faceplant into the asphalt. Harvey groans. Harv wants this night to be over NOW. 

Harv looks up just to see them getting off their perches to help them. But Dent is faster and it takes everything in their power not to cower under the gesture as Dent straightens up and brushes mud off their suit. “I fucking–! Este Eddie– So help me god . ¡Es que son tan–! Tonight has–,” he growls. “You. I fucking. Fuck YOU, EDDIE.”

Batman watches him quietly, a scowl in his face. 

Edward chuckles. “Woah. What did I do? did you really think you could trust–” he pauses. “You are blaming me but not Ivy?” He sounds indignant.

Batman sighs exasperatedly as they take more turns yelling. Nightwing watches, amused while Batgirl observes quietly, probably trying to understand why Batman ever thought of Dent as a respectable man who always did the right thing. Dick's opinion on them is anything but positive. He'd like to believe he tolerates Dent more than ever before, though.

“Harvey. Harvey. Dent.” Batman grabs Harvey’s shoulder and makes him turn. “The tub of ointment Pamela gave you.”

“Wha–?” Harvey asks. 

“It’s nontoxic. I tested it for you while you were out. It's herbal. With healing properties and smells pleasant…  in case you wanna keep it.”

“Of fucking, course I want it, why would you– yes” Harvey takes the tub and slips it in his jacket warily. “Fuck.”

“If I had a swear jar,” Nightwing says.

Batman purses his lips. “I’m not going to give you a lecture–”

“Well, thank god for that,” Harvey says, mocking. 

“Damn, he’s not in a good mood.” Nightwing concludes. “You know, this is almost sadder than you breaking down and going quiet.”

Harvey screams in frustration. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Take me to Arkham! I’m going crazy, this time for real.”

Nightwing catches Batman grimacing at the comment. “Well, you heard Dent. High speed ticket to Arkham’s mustiest cell for the kings of peak mental health themselves.”

Harvey huffs. “Keep wisecracking, you’ll get to my level one day and you’ll understand.”

Nightwing sucks on his lips, keeping himself from laughing and potentially killing the man in rage. “I won’t.”

“I will give you and Edward time before taking you to Arkham,” Batman says, almost apologetically. “But tell me,” B continues. “Did someone… do this to you? Or coerced you into doing it to yourself?”

The tone, or the concern, seems to connect to something within Dent. Dent inhales sharply, glancing at Nightwing first, then at Eddie who’s suspiciously quiet watching the whole ordeal, then Batgirl. Dent deflates. He pouts, looking forlornly at the floor. He tries to cross his arms, accidentally yanking the cuffs. He whines in annoyance and frowns. Dent closes their eyes. “We–”

Dick would never admit it, but he leans closer, trying to catch every detail behind the makeover.

“We wanted a new look.” Harvey opens his eyes and closes them again, too proud to meet their eyes. “Didn’t feel like talking to the barber before I remembered the gala was tonight… It was Harv's idea– SHUT YOUR MOUTH.”

Now B looks… constipated. Dick has heard it all. Harvey jumped off a building. Harvey killed his old friends in cold blood. Harvey formed a gang. But Dick has never seen B so… vexed at something so mundane. B clears his throat, standing in that way where he tangles his hands in his cape and wraps himself in it. “What was your reasoning?”

“We felt… not fine, and got tired of our usual haircut,” Harvey says, holding back… something. “We botched it. And Harv suggested we shave it all because it couldn’t look that bad– STOP!”

B hums. “I've been there.”

Now it's Dick’s turn to be confused. “Bald?”

Batman's stoney face betrays nothing. “Considered shaving the entirety of my hair for the cowl to fit,” B shakes his head, forlorn. “But it would make me more recognizable in my civilian clothes. Besides, using wigs isn't practical unless it’s for a specific disguise.”

Harvey grumbles, shily reaching for where his curls should've been. “Tell me about it. We got that stupid wig thing from… I think Harley left it at our offices.” Harvey sighs. “Well, I guess this is what I get for trusting people.”

Dick makes an approving noise. “All’s well ends well.” He pulls Riddler up and Ed lets out a yelp. 

“I’ll take it from here,” Batman says, grabbing Harvey by the wrists and unlocking his handcuffs.

Batman takes Harvey to the batmobile parked nearby and he’s shoved in the back alongside Riddler. Dick activates the secure seatbelt option with the press of a button and soon Harvey and Edward are tied to the backseats like unhappy children after a serious scolding. They can't even look at each other.

Dick takes a step back and watches Batman get in the front seat and drive away. A whoosh of air alerts Dick of Cass’s presence next to him.

“Friends?” Cass asks. 

“The correct term is situationship. Meaning, they don't know either... You get used to it.”