The first time isn't hard. It's Jervis, and this Alice is only nineteen, and nobody really likes the Hatter anyway so it might not even count as a betrayal at all. Gordon won't let him be present for the arrest but Harvey knows what this hideout looks like, knows what they can expect to find there. Abandoned ferris wheels and popcorn stands, tilt-a-whirls and shattered teacups. The hall of mirrors Carroll's looking glass on repeat with distortions that served less to make him feel normal and more to turn the world ugly. "We're all mad here," the saying went.
Jervis has a habit of forgetting his friends are only human in the same way he forgets they aren't really his friends. Corpses litter the scene along with tea, biscuits, and all manner of bodily waste. People can't survive on ideas and snack cakes alone. Gotham General receives an influx of new patients, and casualties are lower than they might have been. The Gotham Times calls it a stroke of good fortune and Harvey pours himself a drink.
Afterward, he visits the Mad Hatter in Arkham—more for closure than nostalgia. Tetch seems surprised to find Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum come calling, but fails to register any further change. This new reality remains beyond him, Two-Face's double-cross a tale he fails to recognize even when told outright. Jervis sees what he wants to see and will accept no alternative.
The second time is uncomfortable.
Freeze is predictable, and has long been considered predictable. He does not invest himself in the affairs of his colleagues, regards them with cold disgust. After all, he's the kind of murderer whose only desire is keep everything he loves with him forever, even if it destroys them in the process.
So Harvey isn't surprised that Freeze doesn't like him, and never has been really. There's not a lot in common between them.
Those who offended Freeze didn't thaw, they shattered. The only survivor he's seen personally managed to snap his own fingers off. It wasn't difficult, and it took several minutes before he even started to bleed.
The current hideout is a meat locker repurposed for storage and living accommodations. Gordon insists that Harvey stay outside, and they don't debate the point. He stays by the radio in case directions or advice are needed. They aren't. It isn't until he catches the commissioner watching that he realizes he's been twisting the cord in his hands.
Freeze doesn't say anything as they walk him out. Just looks once and looks away.
Harvey feels like a hypocrite.
Riddler is long gone. His walls have been stripped bare, the computers are missing, and the only note left in place simply reads "better luck next time."
No deathtraps. No riddles.
Eddie had been one of the first rogues to bother talking to him when he donned his costume at the beginning. No courtroom resentment, just curiosity. They'd debated philosophy over drinks at the Iceberg Lounge, called each other delusional, then met again a week later.
This isn't hate. There would be no question if it was hate—or rather, there would be an entirely different set of questions. This isn't even indignation.
He doesn't know what it is, and maybe that's the point.
At home, Harvey lies on the couch in silence for a long time. It occurs to him that the rest of his life looks like this in a best-case scenario.
But the truth is, Batman for all his good intentions neglected or ignored a basic rule governing… that governed him. Might govern.
He closes his eyes and exhales slowly.
Two-Face operates on one coin toss at a time.