Scary Monsters and Super Freaks.
Author's note: The following tale takes place in a slightly altered continuity. Its set some time after the events of Hush, and Gordon is still Commissioner. Stay with me, ok?
Chapter 1.
"So, am I talking to...'Two-Face'—or Harvey Dent?" Doctor Karl Pillitch looked up from his notes, to direct a baleful gaze towards his patient.
There was a slight whistling noise, as a silver dollar flipped upwards through the oppressive interview room air. Pillitch followed the coin's progress as it rose, then fell—shackled by the unbreakable bonds of gravity—with a heavy sadness in his hooded eyes.
The coin landed.
"Looks like it's Two-Face this evening Doc," The patient leaned back, the old wicker chair creaking ominously, and adding to the general aura of menace. Half his face had been theatrically concealed by shadow, but no longer. Now the whole was revealed—one side: handsome, though gaunt and worn, with neat black hair. Its opposite comprised the other half. A creation of nightmare; livid and red, scarred and twisted. The eye in that face had a mad, restless look—due in part to the absence of its eyelid—and every movement it made looked like a dying spasm.
One could not look upon former District Attorney Harvey Dent, and not be drawn to the ruined side of his once noble, striking visage. Pillitch had tried not to stare—but by God Dent didn't make it easy. The hair on the acid scarred side had somehow survived, and regrown, now bleached white, and Dent had kept it wild, contrasting with the combed perfection that was its twin. The orange Arkham jumpsuit was similarly disfigured; one side stained, stretched, burnt, torn—anything that could have been done without actually destroying it had been done. Now Dent had gotten to work on his chair, picking determinedly away at the right hand arm rest. It was time to move on.
"So Harvey," Pillitch stressed the name even as Two-Face growled—"I can see you're still 'conflicted'. The medicine my predecessor prescribed seems to have had little effect."
"If they were supposed to get rid of me, then yeah, I guess they had 'little effect'", the criminal's features twisted into a dark reflection of a smile, "But then, I didn't expect them to, seeing as how Dent didn't have the balls to take 'em. Harvey gets awfully lonely you see."
"Yes, I do see. Well, no matter—I've never taken much stock in pills. I prefer a more face to face approach in cases such as yours." Pillitch held Dent's gaze, meeting his eyes. Both of them.
"Is that all doctor." A different voice this time. Cold, brisk, but with a wealth of concealed pain. A million miles away from Two-Faces' customary growl. It wasn't really a question, more a demand.
"Yes", Pillitch sighed, "Yes that will be all. Same time next week Harvey." Then he sniffed—hard, rubbed his reddened nose.
"All right Doc?" Two-Face was back with a sneer.
"Yes. Thank you Dent. Just a dust allergy I believe."
Two-Face showed no further interest as he stalked away, flanked by the two Arkham guards he so despised.