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“Jim, it's not your fault.”
They were sitting in his car, outside the station. Harvey had picked Jim up from his apartment. It wasn't something he usually did (okay, never did), but he'd heard about what had happened at Galavan's apartment, and afterwards at the police station (seriously, he has a day off, and a bunch of hit-men try and kill his best friend, what the hell?). He'd figured Jim would be beating himself up about what had happened, and he'd been right. And now Harvey had to deal with it.
“Yes it is, Harvey, and you know it.” Harvey bit his tongue, hoping like hell that he could sell this lie to Jim. He did believe that it would have been better if that Flamingo freak (Seriously? Flamingo? Dude was weird, even for Gotham.) had been shot. But Jim... it wasn't right for Jim. He needed to hear that he didn't do the wrong thing.
“Jim, listen to me.” Jim looked angry, and he had that look in his eyes like he was locked behind them, and he would hurt you with that hard head of his before he bent. But he was listening. “You did the legal thing, the thing you thought was best at the time. That is the best we can ever manage.”
“An officer died,” Jim snapped back. “She died in fear and pain. I could have prevented that.”
“No, Jim, there was no way you could have known that that freak would do that. You can't blame yourself for this.”
“Yes, I can.” Harvey could see the pain behind the closed door that was Jim's face. He could see it, but he didn't know how to reach in and make him understand. He looked away. Okay, time for a new tactic.
“Fine, Jim, you're a horrible person! Everything that's happened in this city since you came here is your fault. Entirely. And you know what, everything that has happened in the entire world since you were born is your fault, too.” Jim looked a little shaken. Good. “Is that what you want to hear, Jim? Do you want people to tell you it is your fault?”
He took a deep breath. “No, but-”
“No buts! Either accept the blame and stop beating yourself up, or realize you couldn't have known and did the right thing. You have to let this go.”
Jim was staring at the ground, his eyes wide and a little desperate. He was taking deep gasps of air. “I can't. I need to remember this, so that next time I don't make the same mistake.”
“Don't give me that black and white bullshit. You and I both know it isn't that simple. What you did wasn't a mistake, it was the best decision you could make based on what you knew at the time. Maybe next time you'll make the same decision, maybe you won't. This case shouldn't be what makes you chose whether to kill someone or not.”
Jim's face was open, his eyes clearly showing pain and confusion. Harvey prayed that this was going to work. He needed Jim at his best; not that this would affect his detective skills negatively. The opposite, really. He would be driven too hard, and would become reckless. And reckless Jim was very good at getting himself in deadly situations, which would eventually get him dead.
“I-” Jim blew out a long breath, and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. He looked conflicted. Harvey decided that he had pushed enough.
“Just think about it. Okay, Jim? Just promise me you'll think about what I've said.”
He nodded. “I will. I- Thanks, Harvey.” His voice sounded strained and tired. God, this kid would be the death of him, one way or another.... Harvey put a hand on his shoulder, and squeezed. Please, Jim, please, he thought, but didn't say any more. Jim sagged under his hand.
“What do you say, kid, want to get some breakfast?” Jim looked up, and Harvey could see him putting himself back together. This Flamingo bastard really had done a number on Jim, physically and mentally.
“Yeah. Sounds good.”