Harvey’s thumb strokes the side of Rachel’s hand as they wait for the elevator to reach the very top of Wayne’s penthouse.
She looks over to him as he is practically sweating in his spot. When she leans in to comfort him, the elevator doors open, and Harvey starts forward. He looks over to Rachel when he notices her leaning in, but she gives him nothing more than an encouraging glance as they join the crowd of people.
Designer suits, botox, and a wave of expensive perfumes and colognes greet them at the top floor. Harvey’s eyes widen as he takes in the extravagance of the penthouse and its guests. Rachel spots his deer-in-headlights look and can’t help but smirk.
“Now I’ve seen it all,” he looks over to her to see that crooked smirk she often wears when she’s about to lighten the mood.
“Harvey Dent, scourge of the underworld,” she glances around them and her chin rises as her smile grows. “Scared stiff by the trust fund brigade?” She chuckles her last words and Harvey is having a bit of a rough go at loosening up.
“I’ll be back,” Rachel darts off to greet a familiar face from the office.
“Rachel-” Harvey extends his arm as their hands part, and Alfred Pennyworth cuts in just in time.
“A little liquid courage, Mister Dent?” The butler presents the district attorney with a tray of champagne glasses of little variety. Harvey doesn’t miss a beat when he reaches in for one, and he takes a moment of deduction to gather who exactly this man might be.
“Alfred, right?” Harvey stares into Alfred’s eyes, his look intense as his initial nervousness fails to leave him. Alfred smiles.
“That’s right, sir.”
“Yeah, Rachel talks about you all the time,” he lifts his glass slightly as though to cheers the comfort of putting a face to a man so highly spoken of. “You’ve known her her whole life?”
“Oh, not yet, sir.”
Harvey chuckles. His sense of humour has gained praise by Rachel herself and it’s good to witness some of it in person. He bites. “Any psychotic ex-boyfriends I should be aware of?”
Harvey goes to sip the glass, but the liquid doesn’t quite make it after Alfred’s retort. “Oh, you have no idea,” the butler says, shooting a toothy smile as he moves along.
Dent stands in his spot, unsure of what to make of that comment. His puzzled thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a helicopter parking itself on the landing pad just outside.
A tall man with gelled hair and an Armani suit exits the chopper with a lovely lady in yellow.
Then another in blue.
And another in pink.
The foursome approaches the audience of guests peeking through the glass doors. Harvey looks around as he feels misplaced in this sea of luxurious reminders of lavish overspending. No one nearby seems to bat an eye at the sight.
Bruce Wayne must pull these types of theatrics often, he thought. Rachel is further back in the room with her arms crossed as a few sighs escape her. It is in this moment he understands Bruce’s reputation as a mere rich kid trapped in a grown man’s body.
“I’m sorry that I’m late,” Bruce parts himself from the three models as he takes in the room. “I’m glad to see that you all got started without me.”
“Now!” Bruce’s hands clap when he brings them together and strolls through the crowd, “where is Harvey?” It doesn’t take him long to spot the man sticking out like a sore thumb. Bruce is glad to see that Harvey is able to be found so easily in a crowd of vapid people, but he doesn’t express it.
“Harvey Dent, the man of the hour,” he simply says. “And where is Rachel Dawes?
Another easy one to spot. Her hair is wrapped beautifully in a loose bun and her gown could easily be worn by any other woman in the room, yet something about the way she carries herself allows for her to be seen from a mile away.
“She is my oldest friend! Come here.” Bruce waves her over and she walks to join Harvey, her arms still folded. Harvey reaches for Rachel, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too busy being repulsed at the Bruce Wayne mask he’s put on for everyone. Harvey doesn’t think much of it.
“You know, when Rachel first told me that she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say…” Rachel fights a scowl as she endures the long beat left by Bruce.
“The guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? I believe in Harvey Dent?” Bruce gives the DA a thumbs up. “Yeah, nice slogan, Harvey.”
A select few in the crowd chuckle lightly and Rachel can’t help but roll her eyes in, truly, the most subtle way she knows how.
“But it got Rachel’s attention.”
Rachel keeps her chin held forward, but her stare falls down to the floor. She knows that Bruce can hardly help himself when there’s an audience and there’s something about the way he chooses to present himself that she’s never gotten used to.
It’s not who you are underneath. It’s what you do that defines you.
Nor will she ever get used to it.
“And then I started to pay attention to Harvey and all that he’s been doing as our new DA.” Bruce fights any sign of sincerity as he speaks his words and means them. He’s got to keep up the Bruce Wayne façade after all. “And you know what?”
A long pause. Rachel looks back up at Bruce and she studies his expression, trying to spot even a moment that doesn’t include a mask.
“I believe in Harvey Dent.”
She isn’t so sure she can find one.
“I believe that on his watch Gotham can feel a little safer.” Harvey watches as the playboy makes his speech. It wasn’t the most ideal start, but he finds himself warming up to it at this point.
“And a little more optimistic.”
The tension in Rachel’s body loosens as Bruce speaks seemingly real words. She had physically prepared herself for more jokes.
“Look at this face. This is the face of Gotham’s bright future,” Bruce holds a hand up. “To Harvey Dent. Let’s hear it for him.”
He brings his hands together and the crowd follows with applause.
Bruce takes a glass of champagne and raises it at Harvey’s direction before handing over the spotlight to the man of the hour. He disappears from the clapping crowd and steps out into the balcony.
As he approaches the railings, he looks out at the city’s evening sparkle and he pours his champagne out over the ledge. The weight of the door behind him shakes the glass and Bruce looks to see Rachel Dawes. She joins him outside after having been several steps behind him.
“Harvey might not know you well enough to understand when you’re making fun of him, Bruce, but I do.” She rests her arm on the balcony railing and looks daggers at her old friend.
“No,” Bruce sheds his mask if only for a moment, “I meant every word.”
And Rachel believes him.
Bruce eases in closer to Rachel and she stares at him with intrigue.
“You know that day that you once told me about? When Gotham would no longer need Batman?” Bruce looks hopeful, but Rachel sighs under her breath. “It’s coming.”
“Bruce,” she places a hand over the top part of his arm, “no, you can’t ask me to wait for that.” Rachel shakes her head slowly as she speaks, her mouth slanting to the side of her face as she fights to be honest and clear with him.
“It’s happening now,” his hopeful look never wavers. “Harvey is that hero. He locked up half of the city's criminals and he did it without wearing a mask. Gotham needs a hero with a face.”
The hairs on Rachel’s arms stand up at that statement. It’s so easy to forget that Bruce may be fully aware of his own masks, especially since he wears them so well. Her hand slides off his arm and falls to her side as she mirrors his hopeful look.
“You throw a party, Wayne, I’ll give you that.” Harvey’s interruption cuts through their moment. He shoves a hand in his pocket as he awkwardly approaches the two childhood friends. “Mind if I borrow Rachel?”
Bruce nods, but Rachel is already on her way to Harvey. She looks back at Bruce and their eyes lock for one last moment before she joins her boyfriend inside.
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