The Fallen Hero (Dick Grayson)

go ahead and throw your stones

Harvey drags himself tooth and nail into the station the next morning. He's running on a wink of sleep and three oreos, and now he must take on the world of criminals. Although he'd usually say sleep is for the weak, well, that'd classify him as weak right now because he feels like he's dead on his feet.

He rounds the corner to his desk and there his partner, Jim Gordon, sits at his desk opposite of Harvey's.

"You look like something the cat dragged in," Jim notes while sipping on what Harvey assumes to be a steaming cup of warm, sweet, delicious coffee. He almost drools at the thought.

"Feel like it too," he drawls dropping into his rolling chair at his desk. His chair rolls him into the wall behind him, and he groans as he oddly shuffles the chair back to a suitable position at the desk and signs into his computer.

The familiar buzz of the office as everyone bustles about lulls him into a daze. The tapping of pen caps, scratching of pens on paper, and ringing of various phones are oddly comforting. He hasn't been to the station for two or so weeks because of his work on their newest case. An unnamed source alerted Jim to a person of interest on the Reaper case connecting back to the Iceberg Lounge, and the Captain of their precinct sent him as an underground agent to scope out. However, Harvey was unaware he'd actually have to work there as security for the time being. They have him just outside the club, and sometimes manning the bartending counter to keep customers from going after the bartender once they've had one too many drinks.

Harvey hasn't slept in days because once he gets home sometime in the AM he has to detail a report on his night, and then he goes to bed only to wake up and go right back to the Lounge in a rinse and repeat cycle. The one night that stuck out to him was when he was watching the back entrance, and the shady guy outed Harvey within seconds. It left him reeling for the rest of the night, but somehow the other guard didn't register it. Harvey thought he'd be thrown into an interrogation room by the Penguin himself, but nothing ever came of it. Why would the masked figure hide that information? When he detailed his report he made sure to include everything he could, but there's not much he can do beyond that. The guy hasn't been back to the club since that night a couple nights ago, or maybe he has and he just uses another entrance.

A loud cough shatters his endless thoughts, "Harv, have you gotten any sleep yet? You know we can switch–"

"No no no, it's fine I promise. Besides, you're a little bigger than me there Jim, I don't think you could pass off as the newbie Brooks," he says puffing out his chest.

"Only God knows why they let such a string bean into their security," Jim mocks through a fake eye roll.

In mock offense Harvey puts a hand on his chest and gives an exasperated jaw drop, "how dare you speak to me that way! You know I am an upstanding agent for the Gotham police department, I deserve some respect!"

Jim's good natured smile is highlighted by the sun rays bouncing into the room from an adjacent window. A rare morning glow settles over the police station.

"How're the wife and kids, Jimmy? Is Barbara doing alright?"

Jim finishes the last of his coffee and scribbles down on one of his many stacks of papers, "they're well. Barbara has actually started an anonymous blog believe it or not. It gained a lot of traction over the last week."

"Don't tell me she's the one that named our new killer in town," Harvey squeaks.

"That was her alright. I tried to stop her, but you know Barb. She never quits even when it puts her in danger," Jim hums as if he's already debated with himself time and time again about the same subject.

Harvey clicks onto the daily wordle and is on guess two by the time he responds, "ugh, women am I right."

Jim looks up from his stack of papers with a lifted brow, "I forgot how lame you can be Harv, glad to have you back."