0000. PROLOGUE
— as time moves on
SOME PEOPLE SAY YOU ONLY HAVE ONE TRUE LOVE THROUGHOUT YOUR LIFE. Some would say you can have multiple true loves, it just depends on your outlook on life. Harlow Finley believed in love no matter what — she liked to think that a person can fall in love over and over again. But a part of her felt as though human beings are wired to always love at least one person. Because no matter what, she knew a part of her would always be in love with Bruce Wayne. Her heart was interwoven with his from a young age, she knew him like the back of her hand. Harlow Finley thought a lot about everything, but Bruce Wayne was at the center of a lot of her reoccurring thoughts. She missed him, she wanted to know how he was doing, if he was okay. A part of her grieved him, Harlow knew deep down that he wasn't actually dead, but if he came back it wouldn't be the same Bruce Wayne she was engaged to. It wouldn't be the same Bruce Wayne she had been best friends with, that she had fallen in love with. Harlow was okay with that thought — as long as he was okay. Harlow Finley knew a lot of things about love, but the main one was, that she would always be in love with Bruce Wayne.
That made dating quite awkward. Harlow liked to laugh about it, three years out from Bruce's sudden departure and she felt like it was time to move on. Time to try and let herself grow (which, in reality, is what she knew Bruce was out there doing to himself), key emphasis on the word try. She had already grown more in three years than she had thought one person could. After all, she had started her residency and that alone is enough to change someone. She was working 36-hour shifts at least twice a week (during that first intern year, after that it stopped), Harlow Finley had been beaten down and berated by patients and the doctors she was working under, that was what happened to all of the interns. See, Harlow Finley's optimist views were quickly changed and thrown away. That change helped to form her into a surgeon — Harlow Finley wasn't the same and she was happier for it.
The worst part about not having closure when it came to Bruce was counting down the years since he left. Harlow found that she often thought about him. Each year that passed became the "blank years since Bruce skipped out on town" and something about made her stomach unsettled. A small part of her expected him to come back. But now, as the seventh year approached and a death certificate was signed, Harlow Finley thought that it was time to drop that expectation. After all, she had moved on. She was a trauma surgeon fellow — on her way to becoming one of the best in the field. She had even let herself move on from Bruce, finding solace in Dr. Jonathan Crane. But that voice was still screaming in the back of her mind about Bruce Wayne. Seven years. Seven years was a long fucking time. Seven years ago, Harlow Finley would have expected to be happily married to her childhood best friend and high school sweetheart. Seven years ago, Harlow Finley thought she may have had a kid by then or at least had talked about having one. Seven years ago, Harlow Finley would have expected to be happy.
Not that Harlow Finley wasn't happy now, it just wasn't happening in the way that she expected it to. But she couldn't find a reason to complain about her life other than Bruce. Everything else had fallen just into place, painting a virtually perfect picture for her. Society ate it up. Dr. Harlow Finley, daughter of Joshua Finley and Alice Elliot-Finley, a surgeon at the Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital. She was a comeback story to those around her. Someone who was able to pick herself up again after the man she loved left her. Someone who was able to love (or at least try to love) again. The elites of Gotham loved her and so did the tabloids. Happiness was a weird concept, anyways. Harlow liked to think no one is truly happy. Especially not in Gotham. Happiness was fleeting and while people could have a hold on it for a while, it would eventually slip through their fingers.
Or perhaps her entire view of the world is jaded. Her fiancé did leave her behind — of course, he left the entire world behind not just her. So, using that logic, could Harlow even feel insulted by it? He left everyone he had ever cared about behind, not just her. No one had heard from him. Maybe that was why she made herself sober up with the situation, made herself stop drowning in her sorrows. She couldn't let Bruce Wayne destroy her life without being there. No, she had refused to let him be the person to break her. That wasn't his place in her life. Harlow Finley wanted to look back at the years she spent with him fondly. Those memories were something she wanted to cherish. When she looked back whenever she wanted to see just how much she had grown. How different she had become over the years. Memories are only as strong as a person makes them out to be, rather, they only hold the significance that a person places on them. Harlow felt as though it was fair to put no significance on any of them now.
Settling onto her couch, Harlow let out a small sigh. The book resting on her lap had been long forgotten, she opted for getting lost in her thoughts instead. Jonathan walked up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder so she didn't get startled by his presence. Harlow craned her neck to smile at him, "How was work today?"
A sigh tumbled from his lips as he removed his jacket, "The same old."
"I told you not to work at Arkham," Harlow mumbled. "I could get you a job at the hospital. That way you're not working with the prisoners all the time. You surely wouldn't be called into the court all the time either."
Jonathan chuckled, lifting Harlow's legs from the couch, placing them down in his lap after he took a place on the couch. The two had spoken about it from time to time, Harlow getting Jonathan to work at the hospital with her. Harlow worried about him working in Arkham, it wasn't the safest place to be around the clinically insane criminals that had once been running around the streets of Gotham. He let out a low chuckle, his hand rubbing circles into Harlow's calf that rested on his lap. A content hum fell from Harlow, "What do you want to do for dinner tonight?"
"I'm not sure," Jonathan smiled. "Alfredo?"
"That sounds good," Harlow shook her head, kicking her legs off of his lap and onto the floor.
"Harlow?" She turned back to look at Jonathan, a smile resting on both of their features. "Is there a reason you decided to hang around my apartment today? I would have come to the manor, you didn't have to stay here."
"I just didn't feel like going that far out," Harlow shrugged. "Your apartment is more home-y anyways."
"Home-y? Is that even a word?"
"It is now."
"Alright," Jonathan let his head fall as the chuckle moved through his body. "I can't understand how this apartment feels like home to you. There isn't anything that makes it a home."
Harlow shrugged, moving towards the kitchen of his apartment before calling out, "You're here. That's all I need, I guess."
"Have I secretly grown on you, Doctor Finley?"
"I guess you just weaseled your way in, Doctor Crane." Harlow smiled back at him, putting the pot of water onto the stove to boil. Jonathan pushed himself off the couch, pulling out some ingredients from the fridge to help with the meal. This was a common occurrence for the two — cooking together. They had been together about eight months or so, Harlow met him at one of the functions Wayne Enterprises co-hosted with Finley Incorporated, and he just wouldn't let her go without agreeing to a date. Harlow couldn't help but be enchanted by him; his smile drew her in, and his flirty nature enraptured her heart. Or maybe she had just been lonely, and Jonathan Crane helped her not feel so lonely anymore. Either way, she spent a lot of time in his apartment. It was smaller than her home (which was a mansion, she inherited it after her mother and father died a few years ago) and didn't remind her of Bruce Wayne. She never wanted to tell Jonathan that that was the reason. "Can you pass me the salt?"
"Sure thing," Jonathan pushed the container towards her, sending her a wink. "How much longer on the pasta? The alfredo and chicken are almost done."
"It's done," Harlow responded softly, taking the pot off the stove to strain it. "Do you want me to grab down some bowls for us?" Jonathan nodded, returning his attention to the food on the stove. Harlow sighed softly, opening up the cabinet to grab the bowls. She placed them on the counter and put some pasta into them, scooting them closer to Jonathan for when he was done. The room had grown silent, but it wasn't a silence that was uncomfortable for the two. They both enjoyed silence whenever possible, neither one of their jobs allowed them to have many moments of silence. When they did have moments of silence, it was often a cause of worry. For Harlow, when the operating room was silent, things were an issue, or when the hospital's ER was quiet, it meant something big would come scrambling in. So this silence, where she felt comfortable and safe, was enjoyable. Needed even. Harlow sat at the table near his kitchen, sipping the glass of wine she had poured herself while cooking. Jonathan placed the food bowls down, sitting in the seat next to her.
After taking a couple of bites, Harlow couldn't help but lock eyes with Jonathan, "My compliments to the chef."
"Complimenting yourself? That's quite narcissistic of you, my dear." Jonathan smiled, his tell-tale sign that he was joking with her.
"Is that your formal diagnosis?" Harlow quipped back, a smirk playing at the edges of her lips.
"It's my formal diagnosis for every surgeon, all of you are narcissistic in some way," Jonathan shrugged between bites of the food. Harlow let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Are you going to disagree with me on that?"
"No," Harlow covered her mouth as she continued to laugh. "I can't say I've ever met a sane surgeon."
"No single person is sane," Jonathan grumbled. "Sanity is obsolete."
"That's dark," Harlow took a sip of the water that Jonathan had brought her. She always felt better drinking water after a glass (or two) of wine while at his apartment, knowing that she would be driving home a couple of hours after they ate. "But, I'd like to think there are some people who are sane out there. Or at least, people that aren't mentally ill."
Jonathan shrugged in response, "Sure, some people are. In Gotham, at least, an overwhelming majority of the people are insane."
Harlow took the finished bowls of food away from them, walking over to Jonathan's sink. "I think your work is starting to get the best of you, Jonathan. Day in, day out with the criminally insane is getting to you."
"Gotham's starting to get to me," Jonathan let the words fly out before he could even think about them. Harlow turned to him with a raised brow, "I didn't mean that."
"Yeah," Harlow sighed, pulling Jonathan's shoulders into her midsection, letting him rest his head on her stomach. "Yeah, you did mean it. Gotham's not a place anyone would want to live, not willingly anyway. I've always wanted to see the city get better but, after the Wayne's death, it only got worse. This city takes a lot out of you. It takes a lot out of everyone who lives here."
Jonathan sighed in response, burying his head further into her stomach. He enjoyed the way that her fingers ran through his hair, Harlow let out a low chuckle at the sight of him. The two of them stayed there for a beat, both finding comfort in just being able to touch and feel one another. A sigh left Harlow's lips, looking down at the watch on her wrist, "Jon, I've gotta go."
"Stay here tonight," his arms pulled around her waist, letting his face push further into her stomach. "I've got a bed, and a pillow, and a bathroom with a shower. Everything you could ever need to sleep is right here."
"I have people coming to the manor for breakfast tomorrow," Harlow sighed. "Otherwise, I would be jumping at that offer right now."
"So? Leave here early in the morning," Jonathan smiled.
"It takes me a very long time to get ready in the morning, Jonathan." A laugh. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not wake up with perfect make-up and well-styled hair."
"Popular belief?"
"Have you ever read a tabloid?"
"Not recently, why? Have they said something about you at all?"
"No, no they haven't. Not that I know of at least," Harlow pulled herself out of his arms. "I haven't been seen myself in the tabloids for a few years, but it's not like I've sought them out either."
"How many times have you been the topic of interest in the tabloids?" Jonathan watched Harlow as she put on her coat, letting out a low whistle.
"Too many times to count, really," Harlow shrugged. "It was more common when I was a teenager, they liked to get photos of me on dates and try to spin a narrative off of it. The same thing happened while I was in med school. But since then? Not many."
Jonathan hummed, nodding in response to her statement. He stood up, kissing her cheek, "You're sure you don't want to stay?"
"I think I could be persuaded," Harlow laughed.
"Oh, really? No care for what the tabloids might say if your hair isn't perfectly styled during a meeting at your very own home tomorrow? Who is this woman in front of me?"
She knew he was joking, his tone was clear as day. But even Harlow couldn't help to think about the question, there wasn't an answer she could give for it. Who was she? For such a long time, she had been wrapped around the expectations of what others wanted and needed from her. Conforming herself to be exactly what the company needed her to be, what her parents wanted her to be, to be what Gotham expected some rich heiress to be. They never expected her to finish medical school or go on to be as successful as she had. Especially after Bruce Wayne left her after she lost herself and let go of the expectations everyone had for her. She couldn't answer Jonathan's question, she wasn't sure who she was anymore. But she knew that being there, being with him, felt right (or was she just fooling herself into believing something that wasn't true, that's all she needed.
The world could be damned, she was going to try and forget it all. At least, that's what she tried to tell herself. But reality and dreams were typically very different from each other. And there was a clear distinction here.
AUTHORS NOTE
Pls take this as my formal apology for making Jonathan and Harlow have domestic fluff. Also peep Harlow just jumping over Jonathan's red flags (miss girl just doesn't want to admit that he's crazy so she simply ,,, won't). Anyways ... let me know your thoughts and feelings! Are we excited for the story and the plot?? I am 😌✨. Get ready for the angst that is HarlowBruce!!!
Just to note; this is about the only thing on here that hasn't had a major rewrite. I added a little difference to the ending bc of the direction I took the first chapter. But other than that, this is pretty identical to the original version of the fic! Slay!