Chapter 9: Answers?

Bullock was not happy to be here. Sure it wasn't the docks - which at five am was so cold that even the scum on top of the water was crackling as it moved. He'd bet he could have walked across to the other shore with enough care - but the hemmed in buildings here only concentrated the icy wind on his exposed face as they walked up to the doors. His nose was red and dripping, his cheeks cracked and red - he'd kill Gordon if he caught a cold from this.

He'd sent the kid off to talk to the desk jockeys as soon as they'd made it into the building since in his current mood, he was liable to blow up if he heard the words 'Customer confidentiality' and 'Warrant' in the same sentence. Gordon was good enough to get around that without too much trouble - and he could sit back in one of their uncomfortable wooden chairs and think about catching a nap as commerce happened around him.

'Listen, lady! I want this delivered! No if's - no buts-'

'Sir please - you've jumped the queue and I - I can't promise -It's Christmas!'

Bullock cracked an eye open and watched as the burly man attempted to bully his way into getting what he wanted. He'd even pushed past most of the queue and a little old lady in particular who was muttering some very unladylike things about what he could do with his package.

As he watched - the poor flustered counter assistant was floundering as the irate and rude man shouted and threatened to get everyone from the mayor to his "Boys" involved and not one person in the queue looked like they were going to help. Ah, Gotham.

'I'll call the cops myself and tell them you're all a buncha fraudsters and-'

No rest for the wicked, Harvey supposed. He hefted himself up and growled 'Hey!'

Everyone turned to look at him as he marched up to the counter and smiled at the panicked assistant. She barely looked old enough to work and certainly didn't need someone like the iron pumping asshole next to him shouting and yelling. 'Is there a problem here...Darlene?' Unfortunate name.

'I...I uh I-' She stammered.

'What's it to you?' The thug growled.

Harvey placed his Warrant card on the wood. 'I heard someone wanted the police. We're very proactive these days.'

The thug looked from the card to him and then back. 'There ain't no way you're a cop.'

'I'm offended.' Bullock growled, no longer Mr Nice. 'And what I witnessed could be construed as harassment.' He hissed with some delight.

'I didn't harass anybody, man!'

Bullock turned to Darlene, all charm and asked 'Darlene...Did you feel pressured? Under duress? In fear? Just nod.'

Hesitantly, she did.

'Harassment.' Harvey concluded.

He almost missed the fist that was launched at his head.

'How do you do this, Bullock?'

'Shuddup,' He grumbled and held the ice-pack to his head. As if he wasn't cold enough, but he'd put up with it rather than the gonging headache that erupted without ice.

'I was in there for ten minutes, maximum and when I come out you were enacting world war three.' Gordon replied.

Bullock sniffled miserably. There was a time that the little punk wouldn't have had time to touch him before he was bleeding on the floor in cuffs. Now Bullock was back at precinct with another happy customer charged with assault on an officer in the cells and a bloody big headache. He was Mr Popular today.

'You and your stupid ideas will be the death of me,' He grumbled at Gordon.

'I wasn't the one who tried to play hero.' Gordon replied. 'Come on, let me have a look.'

Bullock grumbled but peeled the pack from his head. 'How does it look?'

Gordon pulled a conflicted face.

'Jim, so help me-' He warned.

'You should be fine, it's just a lump and a bruise.'

His head maybe, his ego would take slightly longer.

Gordon sat down heavily and stared at him over the overloaded desks. 'You want to hear what I found or do you want some more painkillers?'

Both. But Bullock had already exceeded the recommended dosage. He'd have to tough it out until alcohol became an option. Maybe he could get away with a liquid lunch. 'Just gimme what you found,' He grumbled petulantly.

'I floated around a description of our perp - no-one had seen him. In fact no-one had even been authorized to deliver anything to the GCPD. So I floated a description of the delivery guy-'

'The courier?'

'Apparently, he isn't on their database.' Gordon replied. Their perp had been right there and he'd let him walk right out of the building.

'That fits. Darlene was telling me that they'd had a break in at their depot a few days ago - one of their trucks had gone missing.'

'Darlene?' Gordon raised a surprised eyebrow. Bullock supposed that was meant to be his quizzical face.

'You have your methods, I have mine.' He returned and then ran a hand down his beard in thought. 'We had him,' Bullock deadpanned. 'We had him and we didn't even-'

'Yeah.'

'You're an idiot.' He huffed.

'Says the guy with an ice-pack on his head.'

Gordon dodged the badly thrown missile with a laugh as Harvey Bullock - despite the raging headache - told him where he could stuff it.

A/N: Oh man, this is my favourite chapter to date. poor Bullock barely avoided egg on his face, but he does have an egg on his head. Gonna need more ice there Harv.