Bruce exchanged a look of relief with Harvey. Harvey still didn’t seem entirely comfortable with breaking the law, but Bruce didn’t think he would go running to the precinct to turn himself in, either.
“And your clever trick saved the day,” Dianne went on. “But then there was the whole thing with, well…” She hesitated. “With Madeleine’s letter. GCPD is still trying to figure out whether or not to send you to court again.”
“They’d be fools to charge you for anything, Bruce,” Harvey said. “And you know what that means, coming from me.”
Somehow, none of it—the police’s indecision, the possibility of a trial—felt like it mattered.
As always, Dianne noticed the shift in Bruce’s mood. She nodded at his eggs and toast, neither of which he’d touched, and her face sobered. “Are you going to be okay? I know…it must be hard, after everything that happened yesterday.” She held out one of her hands, and Bruce saw that it still shook uncontrollably. “I’m hoping this will go away soon. Someday.”
“Someday,” Bruce replied with a nod, his thoughts lingering on Madeleine. He could still see her body framed by floodlights, still feel the way she’d trembled against him as he held her. It replayed over and over in his mind. He shook his head. He was not the only one traumatized from the previous night. Many people were also picking up the pieces this morning.
Harvey leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I think you might have to resign yourself to being forever on Gotham City’s front pages,” he said, even though his words were tinged with a note of sadness. “All they want is the latest scoop on your story. They’re trying to grab interviews with everyone who even remotely knows you. The tabloids are already making up their own stories about what really happened.”
“Shameless.” Dianne shook her head. “You’re going to have to wear a mask or something to avoid this circus around you.”
Bruce wondered what she’d say if she knew about his suit. His attention shifted back to Harvey. He nodded at the backpack his friend was carrying with him. “Hey,” he said. “What’s that for?”
Harvey looked at him, then took a deep breath. “So,” he began hesitantly. “Remember how I turned my dad in?”
Dianne smiled in anticipation of what Harvey was about to say, but Bruce was silent, remembering Harvey’s words as he helped Bruce break out of the precinct. He nodded, waiting for Harvey to continue. “Well, it looks like he’s going to get some prison time. So I was wondering—that is—” Harvey’s voice caught for a moment as he struggled to get the words out. “I was wondering if it’d be okay with you—if I stayed at your place. Just for a while—just for a few weeks until college starts in the fall. I have most of my stuff with me.” He nodded at his small, worn backpack. “Of course, if that’s too much trouble—”
Bruce’s eyes widened a little. Harvey was finally, finally, leaving his father behind. For good.
Harvey looked like he was about to start stammering out an apology, but Bruce leaned forward and stopped him with a steady stare. “Stay,” he replied. “Stay as long as you want.”
Harvey hesitated a moment longer. “Figured I should be a little brave, too,” he said.
Bruce put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re braver than I’ve ever been.”
Dianne pulled Harvey into a hug, and Bruce did the same, savoring their company. This, right here, was everything. They didn’t have to come over today, he thought; both of them had suffered in their own way last night, and they were probably as exhausted as himself. But here they were anyway, at his side, trying to cheer him up, and he found himself feeling deeply grateful for these friends with whom he could simply be.
The world would always have the liars and traitors and thieves, but there were still those who were good at heart.
They stayed until Alfred came back outside, telling Bruce he had another visitor. Bruce excused himself, rose from the table, and left Dianne and Harvey listing out what concerts they could catch before college started. He headed back inside the mansion, where a tall figure waited for him in the foyer.
It was Detective Draccon, standing with a stranger Bruce hadn’t met before. She turned at the sound of Bruce approaching, then held her hand out to shake his. In one of her hands, clutched awkwardly, were a bundle of flowers and a card. “Hello, Bruce,” she said. She nodded to the man at her side. “This is Detective James Gordon.”
The detective offered Bruce a kind look as they shook hands. He was young, but something about him—his thick brows, his deep-set eyes against his weathered, fair skin—made him look wiser than his years. “An honor, Mr. Wayne.”
“You too, sir,” Bruce replied.
“Gordon’s coming in from Chicago,” Draccon added. “He’ll be filling my space at GCPD.”
Bruce looked sharply at her. “Filling your space?”
“I’ve been offered a promotion in Metropolis and will be leaving GCPD at the end of the month to head their security force.”
At that, Bruce couldn’t help but smile a little. “Congratulations, Detective,” he said.
“It’s thanks to you, really.” Draccon waved the flowers uncomfortably, until Alfred put her out of her misery by taking them and going off to find a vase. “The guys at the precinct wanted to send that,” she said as she adjusted her glasses. “Once you’re feeling better, we’d like to invite you down to formally accept a certificate of honor for your actions.”
Bruce looked down at the open card. Inside were scrawled a bunch of signatures. “After all I’ve put you guys through?” he said, offering Draccon a wry grin. “This is too much.”
Draccon put a hand on her hip, but she was smiling, too. “Just take the damn flowers, Wayne, before I change my mind.”
“What’s the certificate for?”
“For taking decisive action and saving both officers’ and civilians’ lives,” Gordon answered. “That took serious courage, Mr. Wayne, disabling the drones.”
Draccon shrugged as if unsure how to praise him. “For your heroics,” she added. “We couldn’t have accomplished any of this without your help.”
“Well done,” Gordon said.
Bruce hesitated. “And Richard Price?” he ventured. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“There will be charges against him,” Draccon answered. “But he’s been very cooperative in helping us track down any Nightwalkers who escaped. We’ll make sure to adjust his sentence to match what happened to him. I know he’s your friend, Bruce, and he’s been quite remorseful.”