"You doin' all right, boss?"
Some anonymous gruff voice might ask it when he was distracted. When his thoughts found themselves caught in a landslide, down down down to the bottom where she was waiting.
"You doin' all right, boss?"
At home, wherever home was—sometimes it was a penthouse, sometimes it was the poolroom of a bar.
"You doin' all right, boss?"
It was bad to show moments of quiet in front of the boys. They were seedy scum, but they could read a face—or half of one—better than any man alive. And they knew when he was pining for her.
Gilda.
The sound of her name made his stomach twist. It sent a chill running through the good half of him, from the top of his head to the very sole of his foot.
The broken half of him just rejected her.
They'd had the argument in the bathroom every day for months.
"She's as important a part of me as you are!" Harvey would shout into the mirror, his moldered visage snarling back at him. "We can't just push her away!"
"Of course we can, Harvey. She makes you weak. She makes us weak."
He would rest a forearm against the wall. Trying to intimidate himself.
"Don't you dare talk about Gilda that way. Not to me. She doesn't make me weak."
"You don't pay attention, do you. There's no room for love, especially not when that thing you love can't love you back. It's crippling, Harvey."
"Stop it."
"A disease."
"I said stop it."
"A parasite."
Suddenly Harvey's hand would hurt and he would stare down at knuckles coated in red, fissures exploded along the reflective surface before him.
It didn't stop Two-Face.
"Let her go."
But it made him feel better.
Those moments…those were private. Those were one thing. But in front of the boys? Would they even understand? Was it worth it?
"Boss, hey. You's lookin' distracted. Something wrong?"
Maybe they didn't know he was thinking about Gilda. But they knew he was thinking. And they knew that he was fighting himself.
He hated knowing that they knew.
Harvey lowered his chin, sighing faintly, the pain that came as a result just more of the same. His left hand fell to the pocket of his well-tailored jacket, and everyone knew the drill.
Tense up.
Wait.
Here it comes.
Ready to run.
The coin.
Up.
Ready.
Up.
Any second.
Up.
Brace yourself.
Down.
…
The descent always seemed so much faster.
The boys looked at him with wild stares, jackrabbits, and down to the coin resting on the side of his hand. It was tails.
They were expecting something.
They shouldn't be.
"Nothing, boys. I was just thinking about something. Now tonight the Gotham City Metropolitan Museum is having a show on coins from 'round the world. Whadda you say we help them collect some insurance money?"
Just a little somethin' I threw together in, oh, not even five minutes. lols It's all right. I've never written for Harvey before, and I really wanted to. So this was a neat little experience, albeit a short one. I've always loved Harvey; he's a very sad, sympathetic character, and it's hard not to love him. By the by, for those of you who haven't read the comics, Gilda is essentially Rachel. Just...think of it that way.
Thanks for reading--I hope you enjoyed it. :)
