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It had been three weeks since Gotham had come to the brink of crumbling. Three weeks since the blackout. Three weeks since Louis' deal with the Joker.

He'd kept his word, except for running away for a night. He'd followed Harry's every move, tracking down each criminal on the list and helping The Joker serve justice by returning them to prison.

He'd even helped Harry in his most reason plans, though he wasn't entirely sure of the 'bigger picture'. Most of the work just involved keeping tabs on different criminals, ensuring that everything and everyone in Gotham's underworld was moving smoothly, as they should be. Like game pieces on the chessboard where Harry was the only player with free will.

It wasn't without cost. Louis could feel himself fraying at the edges, caught between duty and survival. Harry seemed to enjoy testing his limits, pushing just far enough to make Louis squirm but never enough to make him snap. Not yet.

"You're quiet this morning, kitten."

Louis flinched at the nickname but didn't rise to the bait. "You make me work for three weeks straight, and then wonder why I'm not chatty? Maybe I need a vacation."

Harry, perched lazily at the table with a knife in hand, chuckled. "A vacation. That's adorable. You can take a break after you've outlived your usefulness."

Louis leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "Comforting."

Harry spun the knife between his fingers, watching it like a predator studying its prey. "Don't pout. You're doing good, sweetheart." He slid the knife into the table with a sharp thunk, meeting Louis' eyes with an unnervingly calm expression. "Tomorrow, we're going to the docks. There's a shipment I want my hands on—high-value stuff."

Louis frowned. "Weapons?"

Harry smirked. "Among other things. Your job is to make sure it all runs smoothly."

Louis leaned forward, his tone sharp. "Why me?"

"Because," Harry said simply, leaning back in his chair. "You've seen every part of my operation by now. You know how I work. And—" his grin widened, playful but pointed—"you wouldn't dare mess it up. You like living too much."

Louis' jaw tightened. "What time?"

"Midnight." Harry drummed his fingers on the table. "Get some sleep tonight, kitten. You'll need it."

"Stop calling me that," Louis muttered under his breath.

Harry laughed as he stood, brushing past Louis with a fleeting touch on his shoulder. "Not a chance."

"You know that when I leave I'll have all the names of your employees," Louis said. "All the names of the docks you ship from, all the names of the criminals you work with, where they drop off, where they live. Everything."

Harry glanced across the table to flash Louis a smile. "I'd hope so, sweetheart," he replied. "You wouldn't be doing a very good job for me if you didn't know your stuff."

Louis frowned right back. "That doesn't concern you?" he asked. "That I have all of the information on your operations."

Harry shrugged. "You wouldn't be able to stop them if you tried."

"But I know-"

"Everything," Harry confirmed. "Yes, you do," he continued. "You know where I live too," he gestured to the grand apartment. "But you didn't tell Batman when you ran back home to him, did you?"

Louis blinked. He hadn't. He hadn't even thought about it.

Harry's expression softened when he looked Louis over. "Why didn't you?"

Louis shook his head helplessly. "I don't know," he admitted finally.

Harry smiled at him, but it wasn't his usual vicious smile. This one was softer, kinder. "You don't want to take me down, sweetheart," he told Louis. "Not really," he said. "I make you feel something that no one else ever could."

Louis looked up at him. "And what's that?"

"Alive."

They held eye contact for a moment before Louis looked away.

"Don't get shy on me, sweetheart," Harry whispered. "You make me feel alive too."

***

The alley was dark, bathed in shadow, with the faint hum of the city as its backdrop. Louis' breath clouded in the cold air as he slipped into the narrow passage, his footsteps soft. Liam stood just inside the gloom, his silhouette tall and unwavering, arms crossed against his chest.

"Finally," Liam muttered, his voice low but edged with warmth. "I thought you weren't coming."

Louis shrugged, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. "Had to wait until he fell asleep. He's keeping me on a short leash."

"Good," Liam said, his voice firm. "That means he trusts you."

Louis leaned against the wall, letting the cold brick bite into his back. "He's got a shipment coming in tomorrow night. Docks. Midnight."

Liam's brows drew together sharply. "You sure?"

Louis nodded. "Yeah. He told me himself. High-value stuff—probably weapons. Said my job is to make sure it runs smoothly."

Liam exhaled slowly, processing. "Then that's our way in." He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "Can you get him there?"

"Of course."

Liam looked him over. "You're sure? No second thoughts?"

Louis straightened up, his expression hardening as he looked at Liam, confused. "Why would I have second thoughts?"

Liam studied him for a moment too long. "Because I know you," he said finally. "You see the best in people. You don't want to believe he's as bad as he is."

Louis scoffed, shaking his head. "I know who he is. I've been living with him, remember?"

"Do you?" Liam's voice softened, though the edge of his concern remained. "I know it's hard being in there, seeing it up close. It messes with your head. Makes you see things that aren't there—like a heart he doesn't have."

Louis' jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Liam stepped closer, his voice dropping into something gentler. "Remember, Louis: he's not like you. There's nothing to save. Don't let him get inside your head."

Louis' throat felt tight, the words slow to form. "I'm not. This is just a mission. I'll get him there."

"Good." Liam clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm. "Once he's there, it's out of your hands. GCPD will be waiting, SWAT too. Once we've got him cornered, it's straight to Arkham."

Straight to Arkham.

Louis nodded stiffly, swallowing down the knot in his stomach. "I'll get him there."

Liam didn't smile but rested a hand on his brother's shoulder again, squeezing lightly. "You're doing the right thing."

"Right," Louis murmured. "The right thing."

***

The wind bit sharp and cold as Louis stepped onto the rooftop of The Joker's apartment, drawn by the faint sound of movement. Harry stood near the edge, his silhouette bathed in silver moonlight, arms loose at his sides.

"You're not usually the quiet type," Louis remarked, his voice carrying across the open air. "What is it? Admiring the city you want to burn to the ground?"

Harry didn't flinch, his head tilting slightly as if considering the comment. "I didn't always want to burn it."

Louis hesitated at the edge of the roof before moving closer, his steps deliberate. "What changed?"

Harry's lips twitched into a faint, humourless smile. "It burned me first."

Louis stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms. "You really believe that? Or is that just easier to tell yourself?"

Harry's gaze lingered on the skyline, his voice losing its sharp edge. "It's not about what I believe. It's about what Gotham taught me." His fingers flexed slightly, pressing against the cold concrete ledge. "You play by the rules here, and it chews you up. There's no safety net, no second chances. You fight, or you lose everything."

The wind bit harder as silence crept in again, stretching between them like a taut wire.

"I thought you thrived on the chaos," Louis said at last, his voice quieter now.

Harry let out a low chuckle, barely audible. "Thrived on it?" His lips quirked in amusement. "Maybe. But it wasn't my first choice." He turned slightly, green eyes darker, subdued. "You have this idea, sweetheart, that people choose to be monsters. But sometimes, it's all that's left."

Louis' brow furrowed. For a second, Harry looked smaller somehow—less like The Joker, more like a man.

"Don't tell me this is regret," Louis said, not unkindly.

Harry's grin returned, faint and barbed. "Regret? No. Just a reminder. Gotham eats everyone alive."

Louis' voice softened. "Not everyone."

Harry chuckled again, a little more alive this time. He turned fully toward Louis, resting his back against the ledge. "When I was a kid, Gotham wasn't kind. Not to me, not to anyone." He tapped the concrete with his fingers. "I learned pretty quickly no one's coming to save you. If you want to survive, you take control—of everything and everyone."

Louis didn't know what to say.

Harry's gaze shifted back to him, his smile was still there but it was softer now, almost fragile. "It's funny, isn't it? You're trying to save Gotham, and I'm just trying to make it kneel. We make quite the pair."

For a moment, Louis just watched Harry closely, the edges of his usually sharp expression softening just enough to unsettle him.

"Don't look so serious, kitten," Harry teased, though his voice lacked its usual venom. "You're ruining the moment."

The air between them felt heavy like neither was willing to break the moment.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Louis said finally, his voice quieter now.

Harry arched a brow. "You sound just like them."

"Them?"

Harry waved a hand vaguely. "The ones who think saving people like me will somehow save themselves." The sharpness of his grin returned like an armour. He stepped closer, his voice dipping. "Don't try to save me, sweetheart. You'll only disappoint yourself."

Louis bit the inside of his cheek, the words bubbling up before he could think better of them. He opened his mouth, but his voice caught on the cusp.

Harry straightened slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction, watching Louis intently.

"You want to tell me something," Harry said after a moment. His voice was soft, stripped of any mocking edge. His head tilted again, his gaze inquisitive. For a heartbeat, it was like he was inviting Louis to continue.

Louis hesitated, his throat tight, guilt clawing at him like a physical weight. His jaw shifted, tension visible in the slight clench of muscle.

Louis bit his lip, the words rushing up before he could stop them. "Tomorrow. There's something you—" he froze, swallowing thickly.

Harry's head tilted slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his expression. "Something...?"

Louis' chest ached. "What time are we heading to the docks?"

Harry studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, thick and heavy. Then he smiled, his voice slipping back into its usual taunting lilt. "Midnight, sweetheart. "

Louis swallowed. "Does it have to be midnight?" he asked instead, forcing the words out as naturally as he could.

Harry didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked over Louis, calculating, waiting for more. Louis held his ground, though he felt like he might crack under the weight of that unwavering stare.

A shadow of something unreadable flickered across Harry's face—disappointment, perhaps, or something close to it. But when he finally responded, his smile returned, soft but laced with quiet understanding.

"Midnight's when the fun starts," Harry said lightly, though his gaze lingered a fraction too long, searching for the words Louis didn't say.

Louis shifted, taking a step back. "I guess I'd better get some sleep, then."

Harry's smile didn't waver, but the silence that followed carried a weight neither of them acknowledged. "Goodnight, Louis," he said finally, his voice softer than usual, almost... thoughtful.

Louis didn't correct him, just nodded, turning slowly toward the door. The stillness pressed heavily on his back, Harry's presence palpable even as the distance grew. He stopped once, just briefly, before pushing through the door without looking back.

Behind him, Harry stayed rooted by the ledge, staring out over the city. A faint exhale escaped him, almost a sigh before he rested his elbows on the concrete, his face half-bathed in shadow.

Soft Harry :')

Almost makes me feel guilty for...

Anyways.

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