Author's Note: So, this is my first Batman Begins/Dark Knight fic. I desperately wanted Harvey to have a happy ending, despite the fact that I knew he wouldn't going into it. This is a Harvey/OC story. I'll try not to make her too obnoxious or Mary-Sueish. Give me feedback, even if you hate it. Let me know what you like, hate, makes you laugh, makes you cry, whatever. But above all, enjoy.
Harvey Dent awoke to the sound of voices. They weren't clear, the way they should sound, but muffled, as though he had cotton in his ears. Everything ached all over, but the pain in his left side was excruciating. It was as though fire were being forced through his veins, and was slowly burning it's way out. It was unbearable, but he knew that if he started screaming, he would never stop, so he bit the inside of his good cheek and listened.
"What are we supposed to do with him? We can't just release him on an unsuspecting public. They're going to want the same old Harvey Dent back. The good all-American boy who gave rousing speeches and was incorruptible is gone. What do we have left to give them? Giving them a broken Harvey Dent is worse than giving them a dead one!"
"Well, we have to give them something! Too many people saw him at that crime scene to just cover it all up. Besides, do that, and we're just as bad as the people we're supposed to be fighting. Being a police officer is about fighting crime, and right now, the people of Gotham need somewhere to put their trust. Batman is gone. We have to give them something."
The two voices were very familiar, and that bothered Harvey. He hated that the voices were familiar and he couldn't recognize them. That actually bothered him more than the fact that one of them referred to him as 'broken.' He should have been bothered by that fact. He wasn't broken; his eyes had been opened. He had been an idealist: so eager to rid the world of all those that posed a threat to it. Now, he was a different. He understood the way things were. The world needed balance. Not everything could be sunshine and puppies. Because, after all, day is only appreciated because of night. Good is only recognized as being such because of evil. Without both sides of the metaphorical coin, the world would cease to exist as we know it.
Harvey slowly pulled his eyes open. Actually, he pulled an eye open…the other had no lid, and looked towards the voices. He was in a small white room, very similar to the one he had been in at Gotham General, only this one had no windows. As he moved to sit up, he was stopped by restraints. He sighed in frustration and, unable to see whoever was talking about him, he listened.
"So we say what? That he can be rehabilitated? That he's suffered some minor personality changes? That would be the understatement of the century. It would have been better off if we had just let him die!"
"Maybe he can be rehabilitated. It's not uncommon for someone to suffer temporary insanity after a traumatic event like this. Fathers kill the men responsible for their children's deaths. Husbands kill the person responsible for killing their wives…perhaps he can be."
'Ah,' Harvey thought bitterly, 'I know that voice. The voice of the ever-optimistic James Gordon.' Fate, it seemed, had saved Gordon. It was an unfair decision on Fate's part, but since when had that ever mattered? It was unfair that his beautiful, charming Rachel was dead and he got two chances. Was he not the one that had gone after the mob, taken the fight to them? And somehow, Rachel suffered the consequences. It was unfair.
"And if he can't be? What are we to do about that?" the other voice asked.
"Look, Doctor Connelly is the best in the field. If anyone could rehabilitate him, it's her. Give her a chance. Then we'll deal with everything else."
"I haven't even met this woman, and you're expecting me to hang all my hope of Harvey Dent's miraculous recovery on her? You'll forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical." Harvey finally recognized the other voice. Mayor Garcia…it figures that he would be looking after his own ass. Ridiculous eye-liner wearing, ass-covering prick.
"We're doing this for her safety. The fewer people that see her, or Harvey, the better. Just because people were after him before…before his injuries doesn't mean they're not going to keep coming if they know where he is. After all, they don't know that he's…out of his mind. And if they did know, there are plenty of people who wouldn't want to see Harvey Dent rehabilitated. We can't risk her safety," Gordon explained.
Harvey had never heard of this 'Dr. Connelly,' but he was already thinking that she was an ass-covering idiot, too. Doctor-patient confidentiality was all fine and well, but she wasn't going to be able to 'rehabilitate' him. There was nothing that needed rehabilitating. He was living free of the confines of right and wrong, and there was no place for someone who was going to cling to those rules here. He was absolutely fine.
"Well, you had best start thinking of contingency plans, Commissioner, because if this doesn't work, and it isn't handled properly, the entire thing is going to blow up in our faces. Do you understand?"
"Of course. However, you have to know that this is more important than you getting re-elected. This is about giving the people of Gotham hope in a better—"
"And finding out that the mayor and the police commissioner are covering up Harvey Dent's insanity isn't going to destroy their hopes?!"
"He is going to be alright. Give Dr. Connelly a chance to do her job!"
"How do you know that he isn't going to flip his coin and decide to off her, too?"
"We have taken plenty of precautions. Now, please, sir, go back to your office and stop worrying about this. I'm going to be checking up on him regularly, but until I have something good to report, the less you know, the better. At least that way, you can honestly say that you don't know," Gordon said. Hearing this, Harvey smiled. Even after all that had happened, some things would never change. Garcia would always cover his own ass at the expense of everyone else, and Gordon would always be willing to go through with something at his own expense.
He heard the sharp click-click of a woman's heels on hard tile floor. He remembered Rachel coming home at night and hearing the same sound as she had walked through the kitchen. Thinking of her, a wave of the deepest sadness overtook him. The fire that was being forced through his veins was comfort in comparison to the sharp, stabbing pain in his heart. Rachel…his beautiful Rachel…
"Commissioner, it's good to see you again."
"I just wish the circumstances were a little different," Gordon said.
"Don't we all. But we have to do the best we can with what we have," a woman's voice said.
"Well, it seems that you're the best we have. What can you do with Harvey Dent?"
"He hasn't been lucid long enough for me to speak with him yet, but as soon as he is, I'll begin treatment. Come to my office and we'll discuss it." He definitely didn't like her. A new voice was here, talking with Gordon. It was a woman's voice. It wasn't light and soft, like he would always remember Rachel's. It was lower, harder, and definitely business-like. So this was Dr. Connelly, Harvey realized. Well, she could try whatever treatment she liked, but he was beyond her rules, and it would all be useless. He had discovered what it meant to be truly fair, and he wasn't going to let anyone ruin that for him.
Thirty-six hours earlier, Dr. Elena Connelly had been propped up in bed, horrified and fascinated as she watched the news, when she got a call from the new police commissioner. Calls like these weren't a very common occurrence for her, mostly because she had refused on several occasions to work with the police. The Gotham police department was full of corruption, and she wasn't going to ruin her professional reputation by working with a corrupt police force. Needless to say, she had been slightly surprised when James Gordon called at 1:13 in the morning to request a meeting with her.
"Commissioner, you know that I don't work with the police. I've been through this several times with you—"
"This is a little bit different. I would like to meet with you, if that is alright. To further discuss this," Gordon had said.
"I don't even know what we're discussing. I would prefer to have some details before I go walking into this blindly—"
"Dr. Connelly, this is very sensitive information, and I would prefer to speak with you in person about it. It is also very urgent. Please, I need to speak with you. It is of utmost importance to a lot of people."
Elena sighed. He was quiet adamant, and it couldn't hurt to find out what he wanted. Well, it could, but she had met Gordon several times, and he was a good man. That alone was the reason she would meet with him. Not to mention, she never got calls from police commissioners at 1:13 in the morning, and that had her curiosity piqued.
"Fine. When and where is convenient for you?" she asked.
"I'll…meet you at your office in half an hour"
"Half an hour?"
"It's urgent, Dr. Connelly. I'll see you then."
"Of course."
Elena struggled into a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. It was dark, so hopefully, no one would see her entering her office in such unprofessional attire. Then again, it was 1:13—now, 1:15 in the morning. If he had wanted her clad in something other than loungewear, he should have called at a more decent hour. She quickly tucked her red hair into a beret and headed to her office.
Normally, in traffic, it would have been a beastly forty five minute drive. Given the obnoxiously late hour, however, the roads were deserted and she made it in fifteen. James Gordon was waiting for her outside her office, his face grim. With all the Joker nonsense, she could understand that. Hordes of people had tried to leave Gotham this afternoon, and the police had cordoned off the tunnels and the bridges. The rush to the ferries had been so tremendous, she had decided that perhaps it was best to wait it out, armed with her 9mm, in the relative safety of her house.
After everything that had gone on with the ferries, she was very glad that she had chosen to stay home. The Joker had apparently been apprehended, and would soon be safely in Arkham Asylum where he belonged. Her chances of being blown to bits or having her face sliced from ear to ear have decreased considerably, or so she hoped. Hopefully, Gordon was about to tell her that she didn't have to worry. But she also had a feeling that he was going to be telling her something else, and that had her very curious.
"Dr. Connelly, thank you for agreeing to see me," Gordon greeted her. She quickly unlocked her office and they stepped inside. She sat behind her mahogany desk, and he pulled up a chair across from her.
"Well, when you call me urgently at 1:13 in the morning, I get very, very curious. What is it that could possibly be so important?" she asked.
"You are aware that Harvey Dent sustained extreme burns in an explosion late last night?"
"Of course. Everyone in Gotham knows that. He was in critical condition in the burn unit at Gotham General…until the Joker blew it sky high."
"Right. Well…I'm going to need you to take a look at some photos. They're grisly, I'm warning you." Gordon said, sliding some photos across the table. She picked them up and studied them, horror written all over her face. Harvey Dent's face was completely burned away on the left side. The skin that remained was bright red or charred black. The pain had to be unbearable.
"Oh my God…they didn't do skin grafts? It's dangerous to leave someone in this kind of condition. Burns get infected so easily…"
"He refused to accept any skin grafts or pain medication."
"It's amazing that he's even conscious. He's got to be in extreme physical pain. Given that Rachel Dawes was killed, he's also probably in extreme emotional pain. Good Lord, they should have gotten a court order or something. You can do that. Claim that he's not in the proper condition to make medical decisions for himself or something. Poor man," Elena said as she ran her fingers across the photos.
"Well, that 'poor man' killed several people. He determined whether or not they lived or died based on the flip of a coin. He took my family and held my son at gun point, and determined whether or not he would live or die based on chance. There is no way that he's sane—"
"And you want me to work with him?"
"No one can know what Dent did. No one can know that he has completely gone off his rocker and killed several people. The people of Gotham need their hero, and Harvey Dent was that man. We have to find some way to give them Harvey Dent back."
"What about Batman?"
Gordon sighed, obviously unhappy that she had brought up that question. "The Batman…He has been blamed for the crimes of Harvey Dent. It was his idea. He said that Gotham needed their hero, and he was right. They need a hero with a face, even if it is just half a face. We need you to rehabilitate him, and we need you to keep it under wraps. Is that something that you can do? I know you normally don't work with the Gotham PD, but you're the best in your field. You're also known for your militant adherence to the ethical codes of psychology. Is this something that you can do?" Gordon's voice was pleading.
Elena didn't have to stop of consider. This was fascinating. She had seen many people driven to madness by grief, but none to the extent that Harvey Dent had gone. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Most of her work was boring and mundane; this was a chance to do something that was going to affect several. Not to mention...she was curious as hell. She had a chance to rehabilitate Gotham's hero…and she was going to do her damndest.
"I can't guarantee that I can rehabilitate him. I mean, from what you've told me, half of it is whether or not he wants to be rehabilitated, and I can't fore that on him. I'll start seeing him as soon as possible, but I want you to know going into this that I may not be able to give you the Harvey Dent that you want."
"Dr. Connelly, you are the best chance we have at giving Gotham a Harvey Dent that was even remotely close to the man he used to be. If this doesn't work…I don't know what we'll do, but we'll think of something."
"Right. Well, I guess that I'll start seeing him as soon as possible then. Let's talk about where he's going to have to stay…"
Now, thirty-six hours later, Elena Connelly was walking with Gordon back into her office. It looked warmer in the day light than it had that when he had first seen it. The walls were a warm green, and all the furniture was a deep mahogany. She looked perfectly at home in her office, like she was born to be there. Somehow, she also managed to make Gordon comfortable, too, which was an even bigger feat.
"Now that I've had a chance to study the information that you gave me a bit more closely, I think that I'll have a pretty good place to start. Obviously, I can't tell you exactly how I plan to treat him due to doctor/patient confidentiality, but I can promise that I will do the best I can to getting him…healthy again," Elena explained.
"Alright. Well…can I stop by and visit him on occasion? I understand that you're not allowed to tell me certain things, but can I come see him…monitor his progress that way?"
"Give me a few weeks before you come by. Let me see what I can do in that time."
"Alright. I'll call before I come by, anyway. Thank you for doing this. The people of Gotham—"
"Don't peg me as a hero. I have to admit that a large part of why I'm taking this case is because I'm curious as hell about what's going on in that man's head. There are quite a lot of things I'm curious about, Commissioner. Like, how you intend to let our District Attorney disappear and then produce him a few months later with no one being the least be suspicious."
"His suffering from severe burns, and the trauma associated with that. We'll come up with something."
"I hope so."
"We're going to get things right. After all, we've tried doing it the wrong way, and that didn't work—" Gordon was interrupted when his pager went off. "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly, but I have to run—"
"Understandable. Let me see you out." She escorted him to the front door of her office.
"Thanks again for your help, Dr. Connelly." She just nodded as he got into his car and drove away quickly. Elena sighed and went back to her office. This case was probably a very bad idea. Her gut was telling her that she definitely shouldn't have taken this case. She didn't take criminal cases, despite the fact that she had been damn good at it.
She walked back into her office to ponder the mess she had gotten herself into. To call it an office was probably not an extreme understatement. Arkham Asylum was not the only institution in Gotham. No, Arkham was generally reserved for the criminally insane or those too poor to afford anything else. Elena Connelly's 'office' was one of the older institutions on the island. She didn't actually use any of the old patient rooms. Not usually, anyway.
She hadn't lied to James Gordon, not entirely. She was damn curious about what was going on in the monstrously disfigured head of Harvey Dent. However, she was also fascinated. How could a man with so much determination to live right simply collapse into madness? Yes, he had suffered an extreme loss, but that usually only made someone more intent on catching and 'punishing' those responsible. Instead, he had turned to chaos, and somehow faced chaos with an extreme order. It was fascinating and baffling all at the same time.
"Yeah, this one is definitely going to bite you in the ass, Elena," she whispered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door of Harvey Dent's room.
He lay in his bed, restrained by wide straps across his chest and arms. Half of his face was still the chiseled, beautiful face that it once was. The other half was, well, practically gone. Despite the fact that his good eye was still closed, she could tell that he was awake.
"Mr. Dent?" she said, trying to get some kind of response from him. He lay there, eye still closed, in stony silence. She tried again. "Mr. Dent?" Still nothing.
"Mr. Dent, I know you're awake, so you might as well sit up and talk to me. I'm Dr. Elena Connelly."
Upon hearing her full name, he opened his eye and looked her over from head to toe. She knew that he probably wasn't all that impressed. She wasn't exactly the ideal image of a psychiatrist, she knew this. She was only five feet tall, and slender, but muscular. He could tell she worked out, because her pencil skirt showcased her muscled legs very well. He hadn't gotten a look at her butt yet, because the lab coat got in the way, but he imagined it was every bit as firm as her legs. Her glasses had thick black square frames, and her hair was pulled up in a severe bun. If it weren't for the lab coat, he would have thought her a librarian.
"I've heard of you. You're a shrink," he said, his voice full of disgust.
"I'm a psychiatrist, yes. Do you know why you're here?"
"Of course I do. I decided whether or not a person should live based on the flip of a coin. By the standards of society, that makes me insane."
"That would make us question your mental stability, yes. But you know as well as I do that you could be perfectly normal if you wanted."
"Perfectly normal? With a face like this? I don't think so," he said. There was no anger in his voice when he spoke of his face, just a sick sense of humor. He even managed a literal half-smile.
"Excuse my choice of wording. Mentally, you could be as normal as everyone else. Instead, you chose to kill people based on the flip of a coin. That hardly seems fair," she commented.
"No, see, that's where you're wrong. The flip of a coin is perfectly unbiased. It is the only truly fair way to decide things. Everything else in this world is affected by our human frailties. Not a coin."
"No, you're coin isn't affected by human frailties, but what you choose to do with it is. You say that it is the only fair thing in this world…I have a question for you—"
"Of course you do, Doc. We all have questions. What's the meaning of life? Why does the Mona Lisa smile? Who took the cookie from the cookie jar?" Harvey cut her off.
"I was thinking something a little more personal. You chose who lived and died based on the toss of coin. You didn't choose the people that way. Why not?"
Harvey was silent for a moment. He knew that this woman was trying to play mind games with him, and as determined as he was not to play along, he was curious. There was something about this librarian-doctor that made him want to play her game and beat her at it. She was so smug, like she had all the answers. Well, she didn't, and he was going to let her know as much.
"They deserved to be punished."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Chance said they got to live."
"But you just said that they deserved to be punished. And yet, some of them got off. If they deserved to be punished, why would your coin let them go free? That's hardly fair, don't you think. Your coin, it seems, made an unfair ruling," she said to him. Her voice was businesslike, but he also detected a hint of something else in it…it reminded him of how Rachel sounded when she told him something work related while they were in the bedroom. There was a hint of laughter underlying the businesslike tone. It was less attractive on Dr. Elena Connelly, he thought.
"That's just something for you to ponder," Elena said as she stood. Harvey stared at her, hatred written on his face. She just smiled at him pleasantly and left the room. He listened until the click of her heels faded away before yelling as he strained against his restraints.
