title: Dangerous
fandom: DC Comics
characters/pairings: Dick/Harvey, Bruce, Barbara
rating: Mature
warnings: rape of a minor
summary: Dick must protect Bruce from Two-Face.
notes: experimental style, which we all know can only mean one thing... ~_~
for Alex, her rare pairings ficlet... and it's ALL HER FAULT!!! i was perfectly content to ignore my bad dickie/Harvey bunnies, but then she made me write it. *pouts* all. her. fault.

The thing about Two-Face was, and he was probably the only one who knew it, there was really only one face. The hideous manglement of his face and skin on the one half of his body was just what was under the mask that covered the other half.

He could probably remember at least half a dozen 'incidents,' but if he made the mistake of thinking of any of them, he always came back to the first. His arms in the dishwater, his hips pulled up uncomfortably high so that his feet didn't touch the floor, and the crickets outside the kitchen window chirping. He'd been fourteen.

He heard it over the police scanner, and he was off and running in seconds. Grabbed the midtown express to Old Town line, and flew past an armed robbery in progress. He didn't stop to think; thinking was dangerous, and led to things. He even tried to ignore the chatter on the line, but then one voice edged past all the others, and he couldn't not listen.

"Dick, where the hell are you? Answer me!"

He knew she was nervous. What if something had happened to him? Maybe that's why he wasn't responding. But it didn't help.

She wouldn't understand.

It was supposed to have been just him and Bruce, but he didn't mind much. He wasn't that crazy about Mr. Dent, but he was Bruce's closest friend, outside the family, and this vacation was more about Bruce needing to relax than Dick.

He turned on the water, and let it run to hot. The windows of the cabin were all open, and he could hear the birds in twittering in the trees. The sun was just setting, and the woods around the cabin were growing steadily darker. Dick poured the soap out onto the sponge, and started scrubbing the dishes.

They had left Alfred at home, because they were "roughing it." Real roughing it was putting up with Bruce's cooking, so Dick cooked tonight. He cooked his mother's best meal - lasagna. He spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen preparing it, even though he was using all prepacked ingredients. It had been worth it, though, because Bruce really liked it.

It was a sticky kind of hot there. Dick loved summer heat. Loved it best of all out in the country, where the thick air was wide, and you could sit on a porch or next to a lake, and just let the heat soak into you. He curled his bare toes against the linoleum, which felt swelled from the heat, and plunged his arms into the murky water.

"Dick, I know you're in motion. You are either unconscious, or you are ignoring me. Either way, I'm pulling out the big guns in five seconds if you don't say something."

"Can't," he replied tersely, just under his breath. "Too busy trying to save a monster."

"What?" She had amplifiers. Filters. Voice pattern buffers, and recognition software. It only took her a minute.

No roofline out to Arkham. He overshot the most direct route, and made for his garage up north.

"Are you planning on going out to Arkham? Dick, Batman has that covered."

He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn't see it. "Can't. He doesn't know the danger."

Harvey Dent was a myth. He was a player, and Bruce never saw it. He didn't see it when they were on the campaign trail together, and Harvey swore and cursed and drank and whored around. Didn't see how Harvey had a habit of collecting quiet affairs, even when Bruce needed to play interference with Grace. Didn't see Harvey's violent temper, or his caustic, superior wit, or his Machiavellian approach to justice.

He would never know what Bruce saw when he saw Harvey, and he knew that, just as he knew that he could never say anything to make Bruce see what he saw. That was the rub of it, from the very beginning. He had sat on Harvey's lap a few days before his first Christmas with Bruce, and been very uncomfortable with where Harvey put his hands, but Bruce was on the couch right opposite them. He tried to get off Harvey's lap, but Harvey wouldn't let him. And Bruce smiled at him afterward and said that Harvey liked him.

He could not explain it to Bruce. He knew that, and so he never tried.

Maybe he should have. Maybe something might have gotten done, then. But after Harvey's "accident," it was too late.

"Dick? What's the matter? Do you know something? Should I alert Batman?"

He sighed, and vaulted himself over the dumpster and up the side of the building to the window with the retinal scanner. "It's too late."

"Too late? Dick?"

He dropped down smoothly to the ground, and jumped on the first bike he could find. Before he slipped on the helmet, he pulled the plug out of his ear. "Sorry. Gotta go solo." He pulled the communicator out, and dropped it on the floor. He fired up the bike, and took off from the tunnel that opened out into the alley.

He heard the footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around. Mr. Dent dropped the last of the dishes into the sink full of water. "You know what?" He was standing right behind Dick, his feet just outside of Dick's feet. "Bruce is fast asleep. Have you ever seen him nap before?"

Dick looked over his shoulder, and grinned. "Nope. That's cool. He needs his sleep."

"He does..." Harvey murmured, and inched a little closer to Dick. "Dick, you know, I'm Bruce's friend, but I like to think that I'm your friend, too. You know that, right?"

Dick rubbed the sponge over the plate, and nodded slowly.

"Yeah. And I have an important job. It's not something I do nine to five. I've been charged with upholding the law. That's a twenty-four hour a day thing. Understand?"

Dick furrowed his brow. Harvey's breath was like steam against the back of his neck.

"Sometimes... people say things... They see a successful, rich, handsome man, unmarried, with a long string of hopeful lady friends and no meaningful relationship in sight, and they say terrible things. Especially after he takes in a young, attractive boy to live with him."

Dick's hands slowed, and his grip loosened on the plate. He felt cold in his belly, and he knew that something not good was happening.

Harvey put his hands on Dick's waist. "Especially when that boy seems to dote upon him. It makes people talk. Now, if anyone really thought that there was something bad going on, they might talk to a policeman, or to me. And so I wanted you to know, that if something bad was going on, you could talk to me."

Dick nodded slowly, and tried to turn around, or move away, or just get those hands off of him.

Harvey leaned in closer, and whispered into Dick's ear. "Has he ever touched you inappropriately, Dick?" His hands moved under the fabric of his tank top, and spread out over the skin of his stomach and side.

He squeezed his fingers over the handles, opening up the bike. He could feel rain on his face, even though he was covered. His hands felt wet. He pushed on faster.

The road out to Arkham was always dark, and secluded. The pavement was cracked and buckling in places, but it didn't matter, because the only place it led to was Hell on Earth. He careened over the asphalt, avoiding the larger cracks and potholes.

He was grinding his teeth. He'd been warned about that. He even had a mouth guard. He tried to unclench his jaw, but he found that he couldn't. His shoulders were painfully tense, and no matter how hard he pushed it, he couldn't make the bike go fast enough. The roar of the engine just barely made it through the static in his head.

He slipped down the road to the side entrance, which, while also gated, was never monitored, and there was a hole in the wall large enough for a small bike with a good rider. He never had to slow down. He started looking for it as soon as he could see the outline of the asylum against the backdrop of the night sky. It was dark, more so because of the rain than because of the hour, but he had night vision in his visor. He saw them right away.

For the first time, Harvey's true face was revealed for all to see, and Bruce still looked at the mask, and felt guilty. It was maddening, but Bruce was stuck on some image he had of Harvey Dent, and nothing anyone could say could change that.

So he sat by, and watched as Bruce tore himself apart, making an enemy of the man he considered his best friend, apart from Alfred. He sat by, and watched as Bruce put himself in harm's way for that monster in the hopes of saving him. He sat by, and watched as Bruce spiraled deeper into guilt and remorse, and all for the sake of the worst demon he'd ever known.

If you throw a lifeline down to the devil himself, he's just going to tug and pull you down with him.

He knew that, but he couldn't convince Bruce of it, and if he tried to tell him what he needed to in order to make him understand, he would just ostracize himself from Bruce.

Truthfully, he just didn't want Bruce to know how damaged and tainted he was.

Heart pounding in his chest, Dick shook his head vigorously. He wanted to speak, but he thought if he opened his mouth, he might scream.

"Do you want him to?" Harvey's hands slipped over Dick's skin, skimming the waistband of his shorts. He pulled Dick back against his chest, and put his lips against the shell of Dick's ear. "You have to be careful. You aren't among circus people anymore, Dick. Appearances mean a lot. You can destroy Bruce, just by the appearance of impropriety." The hand in the back slipped into Dick's shorts. "Do you even own any underwear? Or do you just like to wear Bruce's old clothes against the bare skin of your genitals?"

Dick's chest was constricting, and he felt his stomach flop inside of him. He tried to grab a hold of something, anything, but all he had was the cold water running through his fingers. It was dark outside now, and he couldn't see out the window for the blackness of it, couldn't hear for the crickets chirping lazily.

Harvey's hand mapped out the territory of Dick's ass. "Let me help you, Dick. Let me be your friend. You can't allow your feeling for him to get out. In any way, or they'll take you away from him. I'll take you away from him, though god knows I won't want to. The law is the law, and a jury will find him guilty based on appearances. You're young, you're full of desires and needs... " He popped the button on the front of the shorts, and slipped his hand down the front. "Imagine this is Bruce's hand, Dick. This is Bruce touching you."

The hands felt huge. They probed him, and held him. The hand in the back went in between his cheeks, and fingers started to massage his hole. A hand picked up his balls, and rolled them in its massive grip.

Dick grabbed a hold of the edge of the sink and groaned.

A hand covered his mouth, fingers pressing between his lips. "Now, now, don't want to wake Bruce now and let him see you like this, right? Look at you... you little slut. Raise your arms."

Water poured down onto his elbows and dripped onto the floor in tinkling drops. His tank top was lifted off and discarded. Hands pressed down on his torso, and over his hips, sending his shorts to the ground. A mouth sucked on his neck, biting just a little. "God, look how much you want this... you tight little whore. Definitely don't want Bruce to see you like this, do you? Good, now be quiet... . Put some of that dish soap in my hand."

His own shaking hands reached out, and took the bottle. He inverted it over the greedy cup of a hand, pouring viscous blue fluid over the fingers. Another hand reached up and grabbed at his nipple, twisting it painfully. He bit his lip to keep from screaming, and tasted the bitter, sickening surge of blood.

"Good boy," Harvey purred, rubbing the soap over Dick's ass and hole. He fumbled with his pants with his clean hands for a second, and then picked up Dick by the hips.

His face was inches from the running water, his hands stuck in the lasagna dish. He felt something press at him, and then a hand took a hold of his cock, and squeezed. It hurt, each thrust hurt. His toes were dangling above the ground, and his forehead kept bumping against the faucet. Harvey grunted in rhythm to his thrusts, making noises that sounded like something out of a porno. Dick felt tears pouring down his cheeks. It was almost a surprise to feel them. It felt like he was drowning.

Harvey grunted and moaned behind him, and Dick felt something spasm inside of him. He felt wet, and filthy. Harvey half collapsed on top of him, pushing his hips into the sink. His feet still didn't touch the ground. He felt like his chest would collapse from the weight on his back.

His tears fell into the sink, washed away by the water flowing around the dishes.

Harvey pulled back suddenly, and grabbed Dick by the wrist, pulling him around to face him. He tugged on Dick's cock, long strokes followed by short ones, and he used his other hand to tease Dick's nipples.

He couldn't control it. His body came without him.

Harvey smeared his come, and the dripping mess from his backside together, and swiped it over Dick's lips. He kissed Dick roughly, laving up the mess as he did. He backed off quickly, leaving Dick to just fall to pieces before him.

"First time is always the best," Harvey sympathized. "Clean up. You still have dishes to do. And remember what I said. Appearances. You could be taken away... just that easily."

Dick pulled his clothes on, humiliated, and finished the dishes quickly. He ran to the shower, terrified that Bruce would wake up and come to see him in the interim. He scrubbed his body clean, but he could still feel the filth inside of him, still feel the hands on him.

He couldn't brush away the rotten taste in his mouth with a whole tube of toothpaste.

The operating theater was on the top floor. They must have busted out from a window or a door onto the roof. Dick could tell from the way Bruce was moving, from his stances, he wasn't aiming to take Harvey down. He was in self-defense mode entirely.

Dick jumped off the bike and let it skid into the trees. He took a running leap to jump on the building, tossing up a line as he did so he was able to use his momentum to swing himself higher, ratcheting the line in so he could keep swinging all the way up. He tossed himself over the edge and onto the roof with a quick tuck and tumble, and a hard pull on the line.

It was still raining, pouring down in sheets. There was Batman, and Two-Face, still in a medical gown. Either Batman didn't see the gun, or he honestly believed that he was reaching Harvey.

Nightwing used Batman as a springboard, and vaulted over to Two-Face just as he was pulling the trigger. He was able to kick the gun away, sending the shot into the woods. He kept his eyes on the disfigured face, and knocked Two-Face unconscious in two quick roundhouse kicks.

The sound of the rain was deafening. Nightwing stood over Two-Face's still body, his fists in balls at his side. The rain poured over him, poured over everything. Batman was coming up next to him, perhaps talking, but he couldn't hear for the thunder.

It had been clear just an hour ago.