Work Text:
It may seem like an impulse that leads Jason to kick down the door to the White Church, but it's actually a very rational reaction to both his hands being full of green hair. One hand clutches the Joker’s severed head and the other, the hair of a regrettably alive goon who will soon be testifying against him. He hopes Harvey—and that is Harvey up there rolling his eyes, not Two-Face, Jason has done his research—appreciates the symmetry.
“Heard you had an open slot this evening,” he announces.
Harvey is beginning to look actually upset now, probably realizing exactly which gang caused the “urgent turf dispute” that his scheduled client, Alexi, had cited upon cancelling his request for representation. Still, he waves off Gavel before the burly man even makes it three steps away from the bench.
The trust between them, though tender and tenuous, still exists from Jason’s end, and it appears Harvey might feel the same.
Besides, if Harvey didn’t want drama in his courtroom, maybe he should have taken more care not to create the biggest stage for all matters criminal. The crowd is full of various underlings, and Jason has no doubt everyone who is anyone in the Gotham underworld has already been informed that the Red Hood is back in town and that he has killed the Joker.
“Usually my clients book me in advance.” Harvey snarls as Jason approaches.
Jason gives the good a shove towards the podium, and offers Harvey his hand to shake.“My apologies. I’ve been out of town on business. Would you, Mr. Dent, accept my case?”
Harvey accepts his shake, and the performance truly begins. Jason sets the Joker’s head on the table beside him, facing the audience. The goon he dragged in stammers through his accusation of the Joker’s death at Jason’s hands. To which Jason pleads innocence.
Despite their lack of communication, Harvey seems to know exactly what Jason wants and uses his questions to walk the audience back through the Red Hood’s introduction to the Gotham scene, establishing that both decapitation and taking on some of Gotham’s most powerful men are definitely within Jason’s repertoire.
It’s a very dubious case for innocence.
It’s a great reminder for the criminal underworld of how formidable a foe the Red Hood can be.
Eventually, the audience’s cries for the coin and for judgment drown out the witness examination, and Jason finds himself once again facing the barrel of Harvey’s gun. As Robin, he’d been half-convinced he was about to die. As the leader of Task Force Z, he’d been half-convinced he’d been betrayed. But now, as the Red Hood, red-handed, he finds himself certain that Harvey will find him innocent, even though he’s thoroughly pissed the man off, and the act of finding him innocent might ruin the careful balance the other has created in this court of criminals.
Sure enough. “Innocent.” Harvey’s pronouncement leaves a dreadful silence in its wake.
Then, “What?” the Judge screeches, in disbelief. He quiets under Harvey’s glare, and Jason wonders what their working relationship is like and whether he’s just blown it up forever.
The crowd seems to share Judge Reaper’s disbelief, dismayed at the lack of promised blood or the failure to see justice—of a sort—served.
Most had hated the Joker in life, but this court was a promise that honor among thieves could be served, and for them that would mean seeing Jason put to death.
Jason can’t help it. He snorts. Has it never struck any of them as odd that the coin flips so often result in the most cathartic turn of events? Does it even occur to them that this is the first time a fifty-fifty coin flip has let them down?
But Harvey’s just Harvey now (well, mostly; Jason has some bad news for him on that front), meaning that in the White Church the coin doesn’t decide the outcome—Harvey Dent, the District Attorney, does. And, usually, he chooses the option that keeps his audience coming back night after night.
Tonight Jason forced his hand. However, if the court wants blood, Jason can deliver.
He punts the Joker’s head into the crowd and makes his exit in the ensuing chaos, settling onto a nearby rooftop to wait for Harvey to finish dealing with the Judge and his right-gavel-handed man.
“What the hell was that, Jason?” Harvey asks as an unmasked Jason climbs into his study through his window, an apology bottle of bourbon in hand.
“My grand re-entrance to the Gotham scene. I figured since the decapitated heads worked so well for me last time…”
“Yeah, well,” Harvey pops the cork off and takes a swig straight from the bottle. Disgusting. Jason had intended that to be shared. “Congratulations, I hope at least you’re happy with how that went after you forced my hand and jeopardized plans I’ve spent months building.”
“Oh yeah, and how’s the White Church going for you? Do you feel like you’re successfully bringing order to Gotham’s criminals? Fixing this city from the bottom up? Any closer to redemption?”
Harvey doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. They both know the answer is no.
“Honestly, I think it’s a pretty good idea, and I’m glad it didn’t collapse because of my antics tonight.” Despite all the uproar he’d caused, the audience had followed all of Harvey’s rules: no fighting, no stealing, and no killing. “But it’s never going to work when Two-Face is going out and sabotaging you every night.”
“No,” Harvey denies.
“Sorry, but he definitely is.” Jason pulls up the footage his lieutenants had sent him. A clip of Two-Face and False-Face in a bar. He swipes right, pulling up another video dated to two nights later, Two-Face and Die with their heads together in an alleyway.
“Fucking hell,” Harvey freezes, and for a second Jason is worried he’ll resurface as Two-Face. He’s not had the chance to find out how much that alter likes him yet, but when he comes back he’s Harvey, simply repeating himself. “Fucking hell, kid. I don’t know what you think you’re doing because trusting me with the coin flip was dumb as hell. Even dumber if you knew it’s not just me running around in control of my body.”
“You’ve been Harvey for all the cases so far,” Jason says.
It feels like an inadequate defense, and if Jason’s being honest, even he’s not quite sure why he took that risk. The mental calculations seemed to have only gotten as far as, ‘I’m pretty sure Harvey will choose to proclaim me innocent,’ before a sudden desperation to prove that true overtook him.
He rips his hand away from his neck, where it has come up to rub at the Batarang scar. The motion draws Harvey’s attention to the thick band of white. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask.
They sit in silence for a bit, watching the clouds overtake the moon.
Harvey keeps sneaking glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Finally, he comes out and asks the question left unspoken: “You’ve got a plan to deal with the Bat?”
Jason does, which is frankly ridiculous. He shouldn't need a plan to stay out of Bruce’s ire for killing his own killer, a man who has ruined so many lives in Gotham City and would have gone on to ruin so many more. Bruce should send him a fucking thank you card.
Except—and Jason realizes his hand is tracing the Batarang scar again. Except he already knows what Bruce’s reaction is going to be, so he’ll lay low for tonight. Tomorrow he’ll call Oracle on a disposable burner from one of Roman’s yet-unknown safehouses and see if he can figure out where she and his siblings stand. Whatever the response there is, it’ll be back to avoiding the Bat for several months, like he knows Bruce has been infected with rabies.
Jason cards his fingers through his hair to give his hands something else to do besides putting pressure on his old throat injury. “I do have a plan for dealing with Bat, and it’s called crashing here. I can make sure you don’t go out tonight if Two-Face surfaces.”
He’d intended that last bit to sweeten the deal, but he can tell immediately that Harvey doesn’t like it.
“C’mon, you don’t think I could beat Two-Face in a fight?” Jason is almost offended. He’s pretty sure if they make sure to lock up Harvey’s guns first, maybe give the house a good search for any secretly stashed weapons, he’ll be fine in a fight with just a taser.
But Harvey doesn't address that concern.
He looks Jason up and down, scowling. “It defeats the point of staying here, which would be to get some actual rest and not to have to fight a grown man tonight.”
As Harvey speaks, his eyes drift to the Batarang scar, like he knows exactly where it's from. Is Jason that obvious? Or maybe Harvey is just familiar enough with the scars the Bat’s chosen weapons leave behind that Jason was never going to be able to keep its origins a secret.
More importantly, Jason’s still not quite sure if Harvey’s on board with his plan. “All of my safehouses are compromised, so…”
“Stay here. In a separate wing of the house. Lock your door. If you notice us leaving, don’t engage him.” Harvey gives his shoulder a firm squeeze. “We’ll figure out what to do about him tomorrow. One more night is probably fine.”
“Alright,” Jason agrees easily.
He’s out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow. It’s like his body knows that losing any sleep over killing the Joker would be a win for Batman, and tonight isn’t about him. Tonight is about Jason having the best sleep he’s had in this city in years. Tonight is about Two-Face sliding a note under the door that Jason Todd, the second Robin and the second Red Hood, sleeps behind. A note that reads, come to me when you’re ready to talk about something other than redemption – Harvey’s Associate.