Chapter Text
Harvey didn’t know where he was when he woke up.
A warehouse maybe or a basement?A sewer tunnel?
He blinked hard, but the darkness didn’t change into anything safe.
His hands were shaking.
No…
not his hands.
Two-Face’s hands.
The gloves were stained.Harvey swallowed.
“W… what did you do?”
A laugh echoed from everywhere and nowhere, a voice he knew to well, his voice.
“Oh, Harv,” Two-Face all but purred, “you really don’t wanna know.”
Harvey’s stomach flipped.He feared the answer.
“Tell me.”
Two-Face moved a coin between their fingers, where did even get it, he thought he threw it away?
“That was the whole point of letting you wake up. I want you to see.”
Harvey squeezed his eyes shut.
And then the world jerked, something pulled him forward like a puppet, until he was staring down at a man lying on the concrete.
Not moving.
Not breathing.
Harvey collapsed inside his own skull.
“No—no no no—”
“Relax. He deserved worse.”
“He- he was just a ci- civilian- ”
Harvey gagged.
He tried to back away, but his body didn’t move.He tried to take out a gun, but his body didn’t move.
Two-Face owned it.
Days blurred.
Or hours.
Or maybe minutes.
Time meant nothing.
Harvey caught flashes of what they, he, did.
A gun barrel in someone’s mouth.
A coin flipping, the reflection cought in moonlight.
A scream cut short.
Blood on the tiles.
His reflection in a puddle, Two-Face smirking back.
Harvey tried to fight.
He clawed against the walls of his own mind until his nails broke.
But every time he pushed forward
Two-Face shoved him back.
And every time he begged
Two-Face laughed.
At some point, Harvey managed enough control to choke out:
“You’re… killing people.”
Two-Face sighed theatrically.
“We are killing people. Team effort.”
“Bruce will—”
“Bruce will what?” Two-Face snapped.
“Save us? Imprison us? Hold our hand again while we cry about our tragic little trauma?”
Harvey flinched.
“You’re pathetic, Harvey. Weak, Soft. And worst of all—”
The coin snapped into the air.
“You still love them.”
Harvey froze.
Two-Face smirked.
“The others too. Like you didn’t put Harley in a hospital bed. Adorable.”
Harvey’s throat tightened.
“Stop.”
Two-Face tilted his head.
“Make me.”
Harvey shattered.
He lunged desperately for control and for a second, just a second, he felt his fingers twitch.
It wasn’t enough.
Two-Face slammed him back into the dark.
When Harvey surfaced again, they were in a motel room.
It was cheap and dirty.
The smell of bleach trying and sadly failing, to cover the smell of rot.
Two-Face hummed to himself, laying out photographs on the bed.
Bruce.
Dick.
Alfred.
Harley.
Ivy.
A handful of Justice Leaguers.
Harvey’s chest seized.
“No. Not them. Anyone but—”
Two-Face placed the coin on Bruce’s picture.
“It’s time we stop playing defense.”
“No—PLEASE—Bruce has nothing to do with-!”
“He’s the reason you’re miserable.”
“DON’T,” Harvey choked, “DON’T TOUCH THEM—”
Two-Face grinned.
“Oh, Harv… we’re not going after Bruce first.”
The coin slid across the bed———-stopping on Dick Grayson.
Harvey’s scream echoed inside his skull so loudly that Two-Face winced.
“Relax,” Two-Face muttered, pocketing the coin.
“We’re just going to send a message.”
Harvey sobbed.
“Please. Please don’t hurt him.”
Two-Face’s smile sharpened.
“Then pray the coin lands on mercy.”
And for the first time in years, Harvey Dent prayed.