Chapter 12: Wheel of Fortune

"This has to be the best place we've gone yet, don't you think?"

Rachel was looking contemplative again, inhaling her merlot before talking a slow sip. It took her a moment to respond, "My god, Harvey, this wine."

"I know. I'm dreading the check."

She smirked from across the table, "It was your idea to try something new. We could have just left once we saw there were no prices on the menu. There's no shame in that."

"There might be if I end up running for District Attorney in the fall. Besides, what's a salary for if you don't spend it?" He took another bite of his meal, sea bass with shallots and garlic. It was the best he'd ever had, but he suspected he could duplicate it at home if he analyzed it long enough.

"So you're really going to run?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just thinking it over."

Rachel sighed, "Harvey, this city needs someone like you. It can't just keep relying on crooked cops and… and…"

"The Batman?" He watched her closely now, and indeed a sadness came over her when that name was mentioned. He had suspected that she knew who the guy was, and out of that suspicion he could easily narrow the list to just a handful of men. The depth of her emotional reaction, though, pointed to just one man. Harvey didn't want to broach the subject, and so far they'd both silently agreed not to talk about it. "No, we don't know anything about him. He's going after small timers but hasn't really proven he's not just trying to take over where the big guys' reach ends or that he hasn't been hired by some out of town mafia. Also, he's a man in a bat suit. I'm saving my judgment on him, though; so far he's in the right as far as I'm concerned."

Rachel smiled, albeit thinly, and took another sip of her wine. The waiter came by, deftly refilled her glass from the bottle they were splitting, and then vanished. "You're changing the subject, Harvey. I think you should run for DA."

"I'm not sure how that'd go over with the natives. Former Chicago attorney runs for Gotham DA – I don't know how well that'll fly."

She leaned over and touched his hand, the one resting by his dinner plate. "I believe in you, Harvey. Not being from Gotham is actually a strength."

"I doubt the national averages would agree with you."

"Gotham's not like other towns, Harvey. You grew up here; you know how it is."

He did, and for a moment he allowed himself to remember his father accepting envelopes full of bills on the back porch and his mother being sent to Arkham Asylum for special treatment, treatment from which she never fully recovered but which allowed his dad to extricate himself from her and move on to other, bigger breasted women. And then, because he'd allowed even the tiniest bit of the dam to open, he saw her on her return from the treatment, round eyed and pale. She'd begun to talk to herself, and sometimes she would stare for hours on end without moving even to urinate. "Yeah, yeah I know how it is."

Rachel took his hand and kissed it. "I love you, Harvey. I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't."

He rubbed his thumb along her cheek and smiled, "I know. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Rachel. I'm a lucky man."

She smiled, leaning into his hand. "We're both lucky."