Chapter Text
Bruce was attempting to hack into one of Lex Luthor’s satellites to discover what exactly he was up to. Harvey and Harv were having their own conversation, pacing the cave like a caged animal. Bruce had given up on being in costume every minute he was in the bat-cave, seeing as his identity wasn’t a great secret. Though the Harvies were still very stunned to see how he presented himself when not focusing on his public image. It wasn’t like the imprisonment of two-face was flawless, but every break out attempt so far was effectively avoided using oracle’s surveillance. No trap door would open for them. If did anything other than call Alfred on the bat-computer the entire cave would have a shutdown. Which happened at least a dozen times. Harv was a slow learner. Despite that, the three of them hadn’t managed a direct conversation. Bruce didn’t want to. He was tired. Scared, even. He didn’t want to face the same accusations of wrongful imprisonment, as if someone with their soul burned in half would do so much better in a career of trading bullet wounds.
Harvey was the first to break the silent streak between them, to Bruce’s dismay.
“Bruce. We need to talk. In private.”
“This is private.” Bruce lied blatantly. But lying was his true profession, so it wasn’t noticeable.
The Harvies glared at him. “You know what I mean.”
Bruce sighed, quickly disabling Oracle's listening devices and security cameras in the room. Temporarily. If they were off for too long, she might’ve sent backup. Or worse. Been the backup. “Well?” He was tired. There was some sort of switch that flipped when he was neither Brucie or Batman. He had no mask left to lean hide behind, and it left him drained.
Harvey raised his voice when he spoke. He was angry. Bruce had only ever seen Harv get that angry. Seeing him so pissed made him shrink down a little, adjusting his stance to carry the weight on his shoulders less noticeably. The guilt.
“YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE. YOUR SO GODDAMN IDIOTIC FOR THE ALLEDGED WORLDS BEST DETECTIVE. YOU COULDN'T EVEN THINK TO ASK ME DIRECTLY WHAT’D HELP?!”
Bruce struggled to maintain his poker face. “I am helping. We are all helping. We’re the heroes.”
Two-Face wrinkled their nose. “Don’t give me that loadda bull. The world ain’t black and white, even I know that.”
Harvey added on, “There’s a balance. And you’ve disrupted it.”
Bruce let his face contort into it’s usual “resting bitch face”, (a title that Jason had decided before his untimely death and stuck with after), and glared at the two-in-one. “Save the story about how heroes need villains. I have plenty.” The Harvies bit their lip, trying to bury their anger. Yet agitation was blanketing their voice. “I’m not Joker. I’m a better businessman than that broccoli bastard’ll ever be. And I don’t follow his philosophy. But you need to stop pushing people away. We can both see that.”
Bruce scoffed. It wasn’t like this was the first time a villain tried to reason with him. In fact, it often worked. But he had to fight fire with fire. Two-Face started a fight, so Batman had to finish it. That was the only balance Bruce believed in. Though he did take note of the fact that Two-Face called the joker “broccoli bastard” instead of the name for him he’d more frequently encountered, “broccoli bitch”.
“I’m keeping you prisoner.”
“Yet this is the only chance we’ve gotten to talk to you all week. We might as well know your creepy teenage daughter better than you now. And we don’t think she can talk!”
Bruce was speechless. And not just because he wanted to avoid conversation.
He tried to force out the first words he thought of, “I was protecting you.” Harv muttered just under his breath, apparently not to Harvey’s knowledge “This better not be your parenting approach too.” Wow. Harv knew the correct use of parenting. Bruce was utterly shocked.
Harvey trudged down the hallway that led to his room, which was newly appointed and refurbished. His victorious voice echoed a warning through the cave. “Just don’t leave us alone with him all day.”
Bruce knocked on his head in annoyance. He half expected it to be hollow.
“What do I do now?” He wondered out loud, desperately grasping at straws. He was starting to think he was in the wrong, but if there was just one reason to keep doing what he was doing he would cling to it.
“No” he thought, correcting his flawed perspective. “You’re a detective. Treat this like a case.” Some cases just so happened to require calling upon an all knowing butler for advice.