It felt like it was happening in slow motion, Batman heard himself screaming out Harvey’s name as the man’s footing slipped, and he was sent cascading down over the edge, but his own voice felt like it came from somewhere else. He catapulted himself towards the ledge, hoping… by some miracle he wouldn’t look down to see a broken and battered corpse lying on the street below.

He felt his heart stop and drop out of his chest briefly as he looked down through the pouring rain, flash of lightning briefly illuminating the sky, to see Two-Face dangling by his hands on the window-sill just below the roof, hands already beginning to slip on the water. Batman reached out a gloved hand down over the side desperately

“Harvey! Grab my hand!” He yelled through the sound of howling wind lashing at the man like vicious dogs ready to go in for the final kill.

“Stay away from me! I’m not letting you take me back!” Two-face growled back fumbling and nearly slipping off as he tried again to get a better grip, maybe lift himself up and break through the window, panicking as he nearly fell again.

“I know Arkham isn’t ideal, I know you don’t want to be there, but it’s better than dying now…!”

“You only say that because you haven’t lived there, you haven’t been told by lazy doctors just wanting to get their wallets filled that if you just ‘cover up your face’ it’ll all be better! Or stuff you full of pills just to keep you quiet while they sit on their asses until they get to go home. Or the guards that will start a riot and beat you just because they’re bored!” He yelled, not caring if the wind and the rain were the only ones who heard him. “You don’t have to be there, you don’t get to be thrown in there for some vague promise that you’ll somehow ‘get better’, when really they’re locking you up for life! And YOU, you talk like you give a shit, when all your doing is dragging us back there.”

“Please!!! Harvey, I know it’s awful, I can’t imagine what its like to feel trapped there, but you have to believe me when I say I want it to be better, I want to help - But I can’t do that if your dead.” Batman pleaded, fastening his grappling hook to the ledge of the building and securing the line on his belt as he carefully lowered himself further down to reach for him.

“Maybe I’m better off dead, did you ever think of that?” Harvey answered in a more quiet solemn tone, slowly letting his hand drop away, leaving only two-face holding them up, and he was slipping… fast.

“PLEASE!!” Batman protested, ready to jump after him if it came to it. “If nothing else… I know…” He stammered, briefly breaking his stoic facade. “I know there are people out there who would miss you if you were gone, who want you alive.”

Harvey’s gaze turned as the rain slowed slight despite the still lashing wind. Eye’s briefly fixating on the glow of Wayne Tower where it stood, lighting up the clouds high above the rest of the city, looking down on them from above..

“Please… I don’t want to have to fight you, I want to help. Just… trust me.” He pleaded, foot now planted securely on the front of the window Harvey was hanging from as he reached down to him.

Their gaze finally met Batman’s, and for a moment, they felt something so familiar and yet something that they couldn’t full place, like it had been lost to time or hidden away. Maybe it was the way Batman’s voice had sounded when talking him down from just letting go before he could get to him that felt devoid of its usual fear-inducing commanding presence - maybe it was the way that he had looked at him that felt so similar to someone he had cared for so much, even if he refused to think that connection was anything but crazy. Yet in that moment, it was enough - and Harvey swung his hand up and let it be enveloped in the Bat’s clawed, gloved hand. Two-Face’s hand let go to the window ledge and gripped onto his forearm as they were lifted back up onto the roof.

Batman continued to grip on tight as he rushed them back inside out of the rain, out of the dark. As soon as they were in, both soaked to the bone Batman carefully let Harvey’s arm go, half expecting him to try to bolt, even if he was prepared for that eventuality. Instead, he leaned against the closest wall and slowly slid down it in defeat.

Batman paused for a moment before carefully sitting down beside him, letting himself breathe for just a moment to shed off some of the anxiety that threatened to shake through his body as he had almost witnessed someone else he cared about die on the streets of Gotham.

“You could have let us fall, and you would have had one less problem in Gotham.” Two-face stated.

“That’s not how I do things.” Batman answered sincerely before hanging his head. “You don’t have to believe me. But I don’t like taking you to the police, to Arkham.”

“I know Bruce is trying to fix things, I know he’s footing my medical bills.” Harvey said, burying his face in his hands, starting to ramble. “Ha… hahah… he’s told me before he’s yanking me out of there as soon as he can find a doctor that could actually help me.” Harvey laughed glumly with a undertone of guilt attached.

“He shouldn’t be trying so hard. It’s pointless.”

“Why do you say that?” Batman asked quietly.

Two-face turned to stare at him. “They think they can get rid of me , they don’t understand. I’ve always been here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Harv growled firmly. “I don’t care if Harvey hates me for it. I’ve been hated my whole life. I’m used to it.”

Batman took a deep thoughtful breath as he leaned his head back against the wall. “Maybe recovery doesn’t need to involve getting rid of you then... I know it has to be annoying too, when people think getting rid of a few scars will take the problem away.” Batman looked out towards the window, realizing, almost mournfully for the first time in a while what he heard was police sirens, knowing he’d have to let Harvey be taken away by them again. “I hope…. that won’t always be what your told.”

Batman felt their eyes staring at him, obviously knowing the criminal was trying to puzzle out the oddity of Batman sitting down next to him doing nothing but talking to him and treating him with sympathy of all things.

“Why do you care so much Bat? I know I haven’t done anything that could have you liking me”

They both slowly stood as the Bat responded by saying nothing as they heard the police charging up the stairs. Batman tilted his head to one side, looking Harvey’s face over for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t the best impulse he’s ever had, but somehow… he trusted that even if he figured it out he wouldn’t say a thing.

Harvey and Two-face didn’t move as Batman leaned towards them. Their mind short-circuited when the Bat pressed the softest of kisses to his upper lip. It was a motion so quick and so subtle he had to wonder if he had imagined it, yet it was filled with kindness and friendliness he hadn’t felt in ages that spoke louder than words ever could.

And then he was gone, back into the shadows, and Harvey realized his hands had been cuffed in front of him, and the police soon burst into the door already leaping on bringing him in, he didn’t struggle, his mind somewhere else completely.

It was a kiss that confusing as hell… and yet so…

They lightly touched their lips that were half malformed and blown open what seemed like ages ago.

The thing he noticed as he held thecrying, shaking boy in his arms underneath the big top, was just how small hewas. He tried rubbing his back in easy, slow circles, but that didn’t seem tohelp at all. He started rocking with the boy in his arms, reassuring the newlyorphaned boy that it was okay. Justicewas going to find his parents killer. He would survive this. Bruce survived theloss of his own parents.

“At wh-whatcost?” Dick hiccupped, his blue eyes bloodshot and tear filled.

“What?”

“Whatdid surviving your parents cost you?”

He doesn’tanswer his sanity, like he wanted to.

“Tryand catch me, you big boob!” The skinny punk yelled as he ran, brandishing hiscrowbar.

Hecaught him.

Batmanheld the skinny street rat up. He was trying not to shake. His jaw was juttedout, his posture tense and ready to spring. But Batman could see the fear inthis kid’s eyes. Then he saw just how damn bony the kid was. Pronounced collarbone, jaw, cheekbones, and arms that looked thinner than tissue paper.

Thiskid was starving.

“Areyou hungry?”

“Buzzoff,” the kid grumped.

“There’sa Big Belly Burger down the street. My treat.”

The kidwatched him for a moment. “Listen, I grew up in Crime Alley. I know there ain’tno such thing as free.”

“We canwalk there. If you want to go at any point, you can leave.”

“I’mJason,” the kid offers when they’re about halfway down the block. “and my dadbeats the shit out of me. I’m staying on the streets now.”

When Batmanfinally entered the Drake’s apartment, his heart broke again. Tim was kneelingin his father’s blood. The boomerang stood as offensively as the old conservativestatues in the south. The last Drake alive was crying, howling in agony as his handsreached for the boomerang. Batman lunged forward, gripping the boy in his arms.Tim’s smaller fists beat against his chest armor. Eventually, Batman managed tocatch those, too.

“Tim,”He murmured.

“He’sdead. He’s dead he’s dead he’s dead he’sdead he’s dead.”

“You’realive,” Bruce whispered as he ducked his head into Tim’s hair.

“Ohgod, Bruce, he killed my dad,” Tim sobbed, curling into him.

“We’regonna get him, Tim. But I need to get you back to base now. I need to get youto a safe place. Can you stand?”

Timuncurled himself from Bruce, standing on shaking legs. He looked up at hismentor, eyes raging with fear, determination, anger, and maybe, just a drop ofhope.

“I’m goingto make him pay,” Tim whispered.

Batman placedhis hand in between his shoulders as he guided Tim out of the crime scene. He’dcall the cops once Tim was in the car.

Then he’dhelp Tim get the son of a bitch that did this.

Thegirl was goddamn dangerous. Her moves were all lethal, her actions calculatedand decided before even Bruce could decide his best course of action.

She wasdangerous. But she was smart. She was also nonverbal and one second away from atruly debilitating panic attack.

“Cass,can you breathe with me?” He signed, standing just inside her door.

Herdark eyes flashed to his, her hair soaked with sweat.

“Cain,”she responded, her hands flying.

  “He’snot here. So long as there’s breath in my body, he won’t get any where near youagain. I’m coming into your room now,okay? I’m going to sit on the bed if that’s alright.”

Shenodded. Bruce took slow, easy, steps to her bed. He sat at the foot, andoffered his hand out to her.

 “I waseight the first time I had a panic attack like this,” He spoke lowly. “Scaredthe hell out of me. I had no idea what was going on, why I couldn’t breathe.But Jim Gordon told me to breathe with him.  We sat there, in that alleyway, breathinguntil Al came to the scene. But the whole time, Jim just talked. Told me abouthis wife, and how he wanted to start a family with her. Then he told me storiesabout other people who had lost their worlds and healed from it. It was justrambling; the nervous rambling of a new cop in Gotham. But it helped. It didn’tdiminish my loss, it reassured me that were was still good in the world,” He watchedas she took his hand, then curled into his side. Bruce lifted his arm until hecould wrap it around her shoulders. “I thought Clark was the strongest personin the universe. Then I met you, Cassie.”

Bruce slammed Damian’s bedroom dooropen after the second scream. He was sitting stock straight, sweat drippingdown his bed. He was only twelve years old, after all, and he already sufferedthrough violent post-traumatic stress disorder.

  Brucewasn’t done planning all the ways he was going to make Ra’s suffer for what hedid to his son and Talia.

Butthat wasn’t the focus now.  The focus wason his fourth son, who was currently trying to grab the blade he kept stashednear his bed at all times. Bruce beat him to it, taking it out of harms way. Hetumbled onto the bed, grabbing Damian and pressing his head to his chest.

“You’rein the manor. You had a bad dream, kiddo. I’m here, Al is sleeping in hisrooms, Dick’s in Bludhaven. Listen to my heart. Can you count it for me?”

Damianshuddered, then wrapped his arms around his father in a desperate hug. Hesobbed against him, tears pouring down his face as he reminded that he was home and safe.

Brucewas eight years old and standing in his parent’s blood.

He wasscreaming.

Peoplewho lived around the alley turned the lights on in their homes, lowered theradios and televisions because that screaming sounded just too realistic. Theyopened the windows, looking down and up, asking the other rubberneckers whathappened.

But thealley had one street light, recently installed, at the midpoint of it. Thatstreet light soon provided all the answers the nosy neighbors had in the shapeof two bodies, and a broken boy. After that, the heads vanished back into theirrespective homes. The Gotham City emergency dispatchers were swamped with callsfrom one block, and fifteen minutes later, red and blue lights were flashing.Cops and detectives were swarming the scene. Cameras flashed brightly, evidencewas collected, and the sole survivor of the shooting got shuffled to the side.

JimGordon couldn’t bear it any longer.

He kneltin front of the kid. Then he noticed the shaking. His tan trench coat wasgently placed around the kid’s shoulders.

“It’sgonna be alright, son. What’s your name?”

“Bruce.Bruce Wayne.”