Dr. Harleen Quinzel walked home that evening, lost in thought. Her session with Dent had been very interesting today – she had actually got to hold a conversation with his other personality. It had taken a lot of effort – Dent was very reluctant to consciously let his other personality take control. But she had convinced him to relax and lower his defenses, and the moment he did, Big Bad Harv appeared.

"What the hell do you want, Doc?" he had growled, Dent's face twisting into a mask of contempt and fury.

"I just want to talk to you," she murmured. "To try and understand why you're bent on taking over Harvey."

"Easy," growled Harv, his smile cold and cruel. "I want the little wimp out. He's been holding me back for a long time, and I wanna be free, just like anybody else."

"And what would you do with your freedom?" asked Harley.

He grinned. "I would do everything Harvey wants to do, but he's too ashamed to admit. I would fulfill every little greedy and violent desire he has, and I would get results. I would do his job better than the little punk could ever think of doing. The only way those gangs are gonna learn is if we rub 'em out. Permanently."

"Doesn't that make you as bad as them, though?" asked Harley. "Fighting violence with violence?"

Harv grinned. "What do you know about violence?" he growled. "What does an innocent little girl like you know about real violence, and how effective it is? These gangs are bullies. I beat the crap outta a bully once. He didn't bully people again. Problem solved."

"I think the situation is probably a little more complicated than that…" began Harley.

"Nah," Harv interrupted suddenly, shaking his head. "People make everything more complicated than it is, with rules and regulations and shades of grey. But life ain't really like that. Life is black and white. Every decision everyone ever makes only has two options. Do it, or don't do it. That's all. Fifty fifty. Heads or tails."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a coin. "This is life, Doc," he muttered. "Good and evil, right and wrong, black and white. Do it or don't do it. You can decide it all by the flip of a coin. And Harvey and me, we're like a coin. We're in the same body, but we're completely different sides. And here's what I'm gonna do to Harvey," he muttered, pulling out a pocket knife. Harley's hand slid over to the security button, but Harv didn't make a move toward her. He put the coin down on the table in front of him, and then began stabbing the knife into it, carving deep scratches into the metal.

He held up the defaced side, laughing. "He won't be so pretty then, will he?" he murmured, smiling at Harley. "Not after I take control."

"You don't think Harvey is going to fight you?" asked Harley.

Harv grinned. "He can try," he murmured. "But I'm getting stronger. And I enjoy the fight."

When Harvey retook control of himself a few moments later, he certainly did seem weaker. The normally suave DA was pale and sweating and shaking. "I…I don't wanna do that again for a long time," he murmured, burying his face in his hands. "Whenever he takes control…it's getting harder and harder to pull him back."

His eyes fell upon the damaged coin on the table. "Did I…do this?" he stammered, picking it up. Harley nodded. "Why?" he asked.

"He was comparing the coin to you," murmured Harley, writing some notes down. "Two sides of the same coin. And that was your side."

Dent groaned, burying his face in his hands again. "As if every gangster in Gotham isn't out to get me already, my own mind is too!"

"I repeat Mr. Dent – you need rest and relaxation in order to win this fight," said Harley. "You're not doing yourself any favors by working yourself to death. You need all your strength…"

"And I will relax, Doc, after the election is over," he insisted. "It's only a couple more months. What's that really, in the big scheme of things?"

No arguments of Harley's could sway him. She had prescribed him some pills to help him sleep soundly at night, so he could get as much rest as possible. But otherwise she had to trust his own judgment. But the problem was that she didn't. She didn't think Dent fully appreciated the seriousness of his situation. And it worried her that one day he would lose himself to this other personality forever.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and entered the room. And all of her worries for Dent were immediately pushed aside when she was suddenly grabbed, her arms shoved behind her back, and a bag shoved over her head.

She tried to scream, struggling to be free, but the bag muffled her voice, and the grip around her arms was firm. Another pair of hands tightened around her legs, lifting her off her feet. She was carried down the stairs of her apartment and out into a waiting vehicle. All this time she had tried to fight against her attackers and make some noise, but it hadn't done any good. They were stronger than she was, and nobody heard her anyway.

She was thrown into the backseat, and felt someone climb in after her. "Just stay calm," murmured a voice. "Everything's gonna be all right, I promise."

Harley couldn't help but think this was a bizarre thing for a kidnapper to be saying to their victim, but something about his voice was slightly familiar, and reassuring.

She didn't know how long they drove before she felt the car stop, and then she was hauled from the vehicle into a building. The bag was removed from her head at last, and she looked around.

She was in a dark warehouse. A single, overhanging light lit up the face of a man who stared down at her, a man whom she had seen before somewhere. She didn't remember anything about him, except that she wasn't glad to see him again.

"Well, well, well, Dr. Harleen Quinzel," said the man, lighting a cigarette. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Who…who are you?" demanded Harley. "What do you want with me?"

The man smiled. "The name's Sal Valestra," he murmured. "You've probably heard of me."

Harley's heart plummeted in terror. "And what I want from you, Doc, is information," he continued, exhaling a cloud of smoke in her face. "That's all. You give us that, and I promise no harm will come to you."

"What kind of information?" asked Harley. She felt other eyes on her, surrounding her, and her body began shaking in fear.

"Oh, it's very simple, Doc," murmured Sal. "Just tell me everything you know about Harvey Dent. His problems, his fears, his paranoias, any kinda dirt you got on him. You tell me that, and you're a free woman."

"I…I can't violate doctor-patient confidentiality," stammered Harley, in what she hoped was a firm and resolute tone. "So I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

He laughed. "I think you can help me, Doc," he murmured, kneeling down in front of her. "I just think you won't. And it's not polite for young ladies to be unhelpful. Especially when we got ways of getting info outta you, ways that I don't think you'll find very pleasant."

"I…I can't help you," repeated Harley, whose voice was just above a whisper. "I'm sorry. Now please let me go."

Sal grinned again. "Well, that's a real shame, Doc," he murmured, puffing on his cigarette as he straightened up. "Because I can't guarantee your safety then, y'see. My boys' methods of interrogation can be pretty rough, and it'd be such a shame to ruin that pretty face of yours," he said, tilting her chin up. "But if you're gonna be uncooperative, you gotta take the consequences of your actions. Jack!" he snapped, releasing her chin.

A man stepped forward. "Take her to the office and persuade her a little. I know it's what you do best," he chuckled.

The bag was shoved over Harley's head again and she felt a strong pair of hands dragging her off. They entered another room, the man released her, and she immediately fell to her knees, her legs turned to jelly with nervousness. The bag was removed from her head, and she was facing a man. A man she recognized again, but this time she knew where from.

"You!" she gasped. "It's you!"

The man said nothing, examining her face gently. "Are you all right?" he murmured. "No bruises or breakages or anything? The guys can be a little rough when they manhandle people."

Harley stared in shock at the man who had financed her future. "Jack Napier," she murmured.

He nodded curtly. "You remember. I'm flattered. And pleased that you became a psychiatrist after all, Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

"What…why…" So many different questions assaulted her brain, along with the gradual realization that this man, this nice man, this man she had felt indebted to for ten years, was the man who had just helped to kidnap her.

"You…you're a criminal!" she gasped.

He laughed. "You hadn't figured that out before?" he grinned. "Who else but a criminal would have fifty thousand dollars cash on hand? Honestly, I thought you were a bright kid!"

"I…I didn't think a nice guy like you could be a criminal," she murmured.

"I told you I wasn't a nice guy," he retorted.

"But…" Harley's mind was still whirling with questions and confusion. "But no one but a nice guy would do what you did for me."

He shrugged, but didn't reply. "Why…did you give me that money?" she murmured.

He shrugged again. "I saw a little of myself in you," he replied. "A fighter. Down on their luck, maybe, but still fighting. I liked that."

He rose, heading over to a coffee machine in the corner. "And you were a pretty, sweet kid who needed a break, and I was in a position to give it to you. It just seemed like a natural thing to do."

He handed her a cup of coffee. "Thank…thank you," stammered Harley, taking it. She sipped it quietly, still trying to process her thoughts. "What…are you going to do to me?" she asked at last.

He sighed, sitting down on the floor next to her. "Well, Sal wants info outta you, so he's expecting me to interrogate you."

"Interrogate…me?" she repeated, slowly. Her eyes fell upon a table in the center of the room, next to a chair with straps attached to it. The table was covered with knives and sharp weapons of various, unpleasant kinds. "Oh God…" she stammered, panicking again and nearly dropping her coffee cup.

"Hey, relax," he said, steadying the mug in her hands. "I ain't gonna hurt ya."

"Then how…please, please let me go, Jack!" she stammered. "If I reveal anything about Dent, I'll never be allowed to work as a psychiatrist again! But…but I don't think I could bear being tortured…"

"I ain't gonna torture you, kid," he murmured.

"But…but…I don't understand what…"

He took the cup from her shaking hands, and held them in his. "I got a plan," he said. "What I'm gonna do is make up some stuff about Harvey Dent, stuff I claimed that you told me, under duress. Sal's gonna sell that to the papers, who are gonna cite sources close to Dent as the informers. Dent's gonna publicly refute all of it, because it ain't true. But by the time Sal finds out that he was tricked, I'm gonna have smuggled you outta here. Then you can get into some kinda witness relocation program – they give you a new identity and a new career in a new city, and Sal won't be able to get his hands on you again. Pretty good plan, huh?"

"Y…yeah," stammered Harley. "I just don't understand…why you'd do all that for me."

He smiled. "Same reason as before. You're a pretty, sweet kid in a difficult spot, though no fault of your own. And I got the power to help you outta it. It's kinda a no brainer."

"And you still think you're not a nice guy?" she murmured, managing a small smile.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. "The last time I was in this room, I used this on three men," he murmured. "Two of 'em never walked again. So no, Harley – I ain't a nice guy."

"Why are you nice to me, then?" she asked. "Why am I so special?"

He grinned. "Told you. I see a little of myself in you. You're a fighter, kid, just like I am. I like that."

"You…don't know anything about me," she stammered.

"You saying you ain't a fighter?" he asked.

"I…don't know what I am right now," she stammered. "Except scared. I wanna go home."

Tears filled her eyes, and Jack reached into his suit pocket and handed her his handkerchief. "C'mon, crying don't help anything," he murmured. "And we've got some acting to do anyway."

"Acting?" repeated Harley.

He nodded. "I need you to start screaming pretty soon – just so the guys think I'm interrogating you properly."

Harley began shaking again. "I…don't know that I'm comfortable with…"

"Would you rather I made you scream for real?" he interrupted. "Because I don't really wanna do that, but I will, if you're gonna ruin my plan before it's even begun."

Harley nodded slowly. "All right."

"You can start whenever," he said, leaning back and lighting a cigarette.

Harley reluctantly began to scream. "Louder," he murmured. "And more high-pitched."

Harley obeyed. She screamed until she was hoarse, being watched all the time by Jack's intense eyes. He finished the cigarette at last and nodded, raising a hand for her to stop.

"Good," he said, heading over to a bag. He unzipped this and pulled out a smaller bag, which he brought over to Harley.

"What's in there?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know.

He unzipped it. "Makeup," he said. "Borrowed it from the wife. As long as Sal don't get too close, it should be enough to convince him that I've damaged you pretty good."

He began smearing dark eyeshadow over her face, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and his face close to hers. Harley felt her heart beating in terror again, or…maybe it wasn't terror.

"What's…your wife's name?" she asked, trying to distract herself from her feelings, whatever they were.

"Jeannie," he replied.

"You been married long?"

"Fifteen years," he replied, nodding.

"You must really love her," she said.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I do."

He dipped the sponge in the makeup again, and continued to spread it over her face. "You married?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Dating anyone?" She shook her head again. "Why's that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Pretty gal like you…"

"I dunno," she said, shrugging. "Guess I just haven't found the right guy yet. I guess…you just knew when you met Jeannie, huh? That she was the one for you?"

Jack was silent for a moment. "She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my life," he murmured. "Honestly I thought I'd never deserve her. I thought she was too perfect to ever be mine. Outta my league, y'know?"

Harley nodded. "But she obviously didn't feel that way, since she married you."

Jack was silent again. "Yeah. Maybe she didn't feel that way then," he murmured. "You know it ain't everything, looks," he said at last. "Appearances can be deceiving."

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "Maybe that's why I haven't found anyone yet."

"Well, your looks ain't the problem, trust me," he said. "You're a knockout, kid. The problem is you're probably outta most guys' leagues. We're a pretty sorry bunch generally, especially when compared to beautiful women."

She smiled. "I don't think that's true," she said. "But thank you."

He drew his hand away. "Yep, even covered in fake bruises, you're still pretty," he said, grinning. "Now take your hair out and mess it up some."

"Oh…mess it up?" repeated Harley, pulling her blonde hair out of its bun. She began ruffling her hair slightly.

"No, really mess it up, kid," he repeated. "Like this."

He began to violently rearrange her hair, shaking it and tugging on it so that Harley winced slightly. "Yep, good," he said at last. "Hair good, face good…need to ruin your clothes a bit more."

He began unbuttoning her top, and then suddenly realized the awkwardness of what he was doing. "Er…you can do that," he said, drawing his hands away hastily. "Just undo a couple buttons."

Harley obeyed, feeling her face growing red. "Couple rips and tears, here and there," he murmured, running his knife down the fabric of her shirt. "Maybe some bruises on your neck and your legs…"

He was about to start working on her bare legs, when he paused again. "You can…do that too," he said, handing her the makeup. Harley took it from him, and began spreading it in circles along her legs.

"Can you see without your glasses?" he asked at last.

"Not…perfectly," she admitted. "I can't read without them…"

"Well, you ain't gonna be doing a lotta reading here," he said, grinning. "Do you mind if I break 'em? I just would, y'see."

She nodded slowly, taking them off and handing them to him. He didn't take them from her – he just stared at her natural face with a strange look in his eyes. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head and taking her glasses. "No. You're just…uh…really pretty. That's all."

He threw her glasses on the ground and then stepped on them. "Now if you just come over here to the chair…"

She took a seat where he indicated, and he began tying her down. "Hope it's not too tight for you there," he said, adjusting the straps. "But it's gotta look real."

"No, it's...not too tight," she murmured. They stared at each other for a few moments, and Harley's heart began beating again at the look in his eyes.

Then he suddenly picked up the instruments, throwing them in the sink and rinsing water over them. "I'll be right back with Sal," he murmured. "Try to look pained."

She nodded, shaking in nervousness again. Jack returned an instant later with Sal. "Oh, Jack, I see you didn't take it easy on the poor shrink," chuckled Sal. "Did she talk yet?"

"It's only a matter of time, boss," replied Jack. "Gimme a couple more days, and I'll have Dent's whole life story for you."

"Good man," he said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. "Sorry about all this, sweetheart," he said, turning to Harley and smiling. "But I did try to warn you. It's best to cooperate with us."

He turned to go. "Untie her and go home, Jack. Your wife must be expecting you back. She can't escape from here."

"Yes, sir," agreed Jack, shutting the door behind him. He released Harley from the restraints. "Are you gonna be ok here on your own?" he asked, helping her out of the chair.

She nodded. "You've done more than enough for me. I can't ask you to stay with me tonight."

"I wouldn't mind," he said, hastily.

"I think your wife probably would," she said, grinning. "She probably misses you."

Jack sighed. "Yeah. Sure she does," he muttered, turning to go. "Uh…I'll be in to check on you first thing tomorrow morning, before the guys get here. So lemme know if you need anything then."

She nodded again. "Thank you, Jack," she murmured. "For…for everything."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he murmured, heading for the door. "Goodnight, Harley."

"Goodnight, Jack," she whispered. The door shut and locked. Harley shivered. The room was cold. She found a couple of ragged blankets under the sink and made a makeshift bed out of them. It was some hours before she finally slept, but until she did, she thought of nothing but Jack Napier.