An alternate ending to the Dark Knight where Harvey is the one who dies and Rachel lives, taking on the Two-Face persona.
Rachel stood before the towering asylum in which contained the most notorious of the skum scraped off from the streets of Gotham. Many of those she had helped prove guilty under the court of law, sending them into the dirty confines of an Arkham cell. A job well done, if she'd say so herself. Conscious of that fact, however she acknowledged that she was highly abhorred and in a sense, infamous to the mentally ill patience among the facility. But Rachel couldn't feel any more thrilled with that idea, which was quite out of the ordinary for someone of her character. Lately though, she had felt a tad bit...different. Free, to say the least or perhaps a better fitting word would be unrestrained. The point being that it wasn't the same old Rachel Dawes she was used to. She noticed that this...change had taken place the night she was kept up by the constant nagging in her brain to pay a visit to her true love's murder; the cold-hearted, mass-murdering, circus freak they called the Joker. The acrimony she had for him burned in her stomach and pulsed through her veins. Her immediate reaction would be to spit on the clown fiend to show how worthless he truly was and he wouldn't mind that one bit, certainly not. The Joker had always been such a big fan of saliva, it seemed, with that tongue always slithering out of that repulsively red painted mouth to saturate his broken skin. The aversion towards him rose involuntarily in her once again. Like magic, he summoned that feeling within the pit of her stomach.
Using that as a drive she advanced towards the building, pulling the door open with such force the people within the room turned to look at her. The calm and collected facade quickly blanketed over her face as she approached the woman at the front who appeared fatigued and very agitated.
"Hello, I'm here to see...well I don't uh...know his real name..."
The woman didn't move an inch just stared blankly at her.
"He goes by 'the Joker'."
The woman sighed, "Name?" she drew, the word being stretched into two syllables instead of one.
"Rachel Dawes of the DA's office."
She began typing on the computer in front of her before Rachel stopped her.
"Actually, I didn't set an exact date to meet him..."
"Are you working on his case?" the same dullness unchanging in her tone.
"Uh...yes," Rachel lied.
With an exasperated sigh, she stood up from behind the desk and headed towards the door on her left.
"All right I'll get the security guards to pull him out early from his session with doctor Quinzel," she muttered as she disappeared behind the door. The lack of enunciation almost made her words sound like a long, jumbled mumble.
Rachel waited impatiently, attempting to make her eagerness subtle. While she lingered there, she read the quote displayed high on the wall. 'Arkham asylum: where nobody leaves unfixed'. Pondering that for a moment, she tried to find the meaning behind it. Did it really just mean that, or was there more to it? The way she viewed it was her exiting the asylum with things settled and her mind finally at peace, which only meant one thing.
At once, the door reopened and out came the jaded woman along with a brawny, black security guard.
"He's going to have to check your belongings and do a pat down search, Miss Dawes," she informed her, resorting to her position behind the desk.
"Wait, hold on Dawes? As in Rachel Dawes the attorney?" The towering man asked.
She nodded promptly, "Yes, that's me."
"Oh hey, how you doin'? I hear you all over the news, woman! You're much prettier in person."
Rachel smiled appreciatively, "Thank you."
"Hey, Trisha," he called over to the front desk, "We don't needa check her out. She's Rachel Dawes, you know from the news?"
'Trisha' kept her eyes locked to her computer screen as she typed steadily. She didn't bother to protest bu t rather, let out a little, inattentive groan.
"All right, less' go," he taped her on the shoulder and opened the white door for her.