Authors Note – Wrote this after the Dark Knight came out. Only uploading it now. Just to add Nolan has confirmed Two Face's death so unfortunately this story will just have to be my little fantasy.

Waterfalls of cascading clear rain soaked the pavements of Gotham City, the heavy grey clouds flashed every so often; the harsh white of lightening breaking out violently, thunder rumbling in its god-like manner. Beneath the bitter clouds, a vast amount of buildings stood proud in Gotham - offices, grocery stores, malls, skyscrapers...each one containing an antique piece of Gotham's history.

But one building was special tonight, no not special...haunted. Haunted by the overwhelming cold atmosphere of death - death of a DA, a lover, a friend - the death of Harvey Dent.

Inside a man stood, speaking on a stage - a man of respect and honour. His brushed chestnut brown hair tinged with grey and his thick black-rimmed glasses do not overshadow or hide the strength and wisdom that this man has within. His name is James Gordon, and over the past few days he had dealt with so much: Dent kidnapping his family, The Joker (whose identity has not been found out) has been thrown into Arkham Asylum, Batman now has to be hunted down due to his courage and bravery - all this pain and agony had left a break in Gordon's heart, in which he believed nothing could mend.

Behind him was an enormous picture of Dent - Dent smiling, happy, the photo captured in a time where Gotham was at peace and citizens could count on Dent to rid the streets of crime. Roses stood everywhere as family, friends and other people of Gotham mourned the loss, Gordon standing before them like a leader or God.

'A hero...' James Gordon continued to speak - his posture of that of a strong-willed man full of determination. 'Not the hero we deserved - the hero we needed. Nothing less than a knight shining...'

James bowed his head, seemingly in prayer as tears from family and friends flowed -droplets of salty emotion landing on the buildings vanished oak floor. Waves of clapping echoed throughout, its echoes like the call of spirit, the spirit of the dead. Emotions overflowed in this honourable and saddening occasion - upset, pain, anger...

Behind the crowd and James Gordon, a figure looked in, from the ice cold weather outside, through the laced window. The eyes that looked upon the interior were empty and cold; the right eye was wide open, bloodshot and red like the Devil's soul. The figure, due to the falling rain, sported a long trench coat, its hood covering the male's head. Good choice of clothing - seeing as what laid beneath the hood would terrify the toughest of people.

If you saw what laid beneath - you would see half of a man, a man filled with love and caring, a man filled with the upmost strength and power, a man who had everything in his life. However the other half of this man lost everything - everything evil and chaotic has now entered his life, and there is no escaping it. These two sides of this man are, ironically seen by his facial features. One side, a handsome man, cheekbone prominent, his bright blue eye shining ever so brighter like a raging ocean and his soft silky blonde hair which layed ever so beautifully over his head. The other side was a mass of purple charred skin - an everlasting scar of the gasoline incident that happened a while back - his demon blood eye was wide open - no eyelid to moisten and take care of this crucial organ. This side of his lip was curled up into a permanent snare (which reminded the male, of his enemy, The Joker, in which both of them now had an scarred facial feature next to their mouth) and his teeth had become rotten and black. His skin flaked as his mouth moved - an indication to the destroyed cells of the face breaking away from this male figures once gorgeous face.

'Ha...' The male figure chuckled under his breath, discarding the pain he felt as his partly burnt face moved with his expressions. 'What a wasted tribute...you couldn't even say this to my face Gordon...let alone try to be respectable now...'
He peered closer in the window, his eyes focused intensely on the Commissioner.

'You will realise that I am still here Gordon...I'll make sure of it...I'm not dead, I've just began to start living...'
Harvey Dent snarled toward Gordon, before swiftly running away, bumping into Gotham's busy city crowd as he did so. He was about to cause carnage, and Gordon would feel the full force of it.

In the tributed building, Gordon sensed something evil. That was when he had a strange thought - as he turned to look at the mesmerising picture of Harvey Dent; he instantly had a gut feeling. An ever burning question etched in his mind.

After everything that happened, could Harvey really be dead?