A.N.: Another chapter up. Weird...it takes me one or two days to write it up, but a week to even think up a storyline. ; sorry about that folks. Once again, thanks guys for the positive support so far. I'm pleased with how well this whim-story was received and appreciate each and every review. You guys rock!

So, once again, I hope you like this story. And please review and tell me what you think. All opinions are helpful and I truly take what people suggest into my thinking process. Never know when a suggestion of yours may show up in the story ;)


Dreaming. I had to be dreaming. Nothing could explain this other than a dream.

No…perhaps dream is the wrong word.

Nightmares.

Yes…

People, voices, sights, sounds, colors…everything swirling, melding, screaming in my head. I remember pieces here and there…like the drive to the courthouse. I remember flipping through my folder on the Joker.

"Total nutcase."

Even his picture was insane. White face, green hair, and an everlasting smile. That damn smile.

I remember tossing the folder in my briefcase before stepping out of the cab. I had enough of that smile plastered across the news-stands, across the television, everywhere I looked. Enough was enough. Time to put another madman behind bars.

Too bad that madman wasn't Falcone. Yeah, I was still bitter. I knew this was an open and shut case, but to bring down Carmine's empire in Gotham…that victory would have been so much more rewarding.

Everything shifts. I remember stepping up to the stand, face to face with the devil incarnate himself. The Joker. It was hard trying to stare him down when he smiled all the time. I felt sick. I wanted to rip that smile off his face. A killer like him should never grin again.

Then…then there was heat. Burning pain. It was faint at first, but the intensity flared up in an instant. Oh…oh god that pain. It felt like someone was holding my face over an open flame…I could feel the skin peeling and dripping off my skull like wax. I couldn't stop it, I tried, I tried so hard. My hand was shaking from pain, whatever was on my face was on my hand as well. It was useless. I couldn't move. That's when I could hear screams. Screams of horror and screams for help. Bruce? Was that Bruce? I could have sworn I heard him calling for an ambulance.

It's so hazy there. Things start going black. I can see him…one eye is blurred and hurts when I look at the lights above.

"I…I can't feel me face…"

I don't think he heard me. My voice…it sounded so different. Pathetic. Weak.

Now I feel cold. So very cold. Am I dead? I can't be…how could I be thinking if I was dead?

I wouldn't let nothin' happen to you, Apollo.

that voice. I know that voice.

Course you do. You know me, Harv. You know me very well.

I feel a stiff fabric under my good hand, my fingers grasping for support.

Shh…don't fidget. Don't wake up Harvey…

Why?

Well, you don't want to frighten the nurses do you?

My throat tightens and I grip harder for the fabrics. Frighten? Frightened of what?

Don't be so coy, Apollo. Frightened…of big bad Harvey Dent.

I don't know what you're talking about!

You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about!

Harvey's eyes snapped open, wincing at the searing white lights over his head. He felt something in his throat and choked, bringing up his hand to his lips. A breathing tube. Harvey grunted, struggling to hold back the gag-reflex as he grasped the tube and pulled it out of his mouth. A fresh gulp of air and Harvey was back to staring at his surroundings. Blue-green tiles lined the walls, a curtain separating him from the rest of the world. Weak eyes slowly drifted upwards, focusing on the vague image of beeping electronic devices. He glanced down and saw that he was wearing a white hospital gown and was covered up to his middle in abrasive, rigid sheets.

Hmph…so I wasn't dreaming everything.

Of course not, Harvey.

Harvey blinked and swallowed hard, his throat dry and scratchy. Or perhaps he was still dreaming. The young man lifted his right hand lethargically, bringing it up to head and rubbing his eye. Tubes and wires stuck out of his arm and chest, he noted as he studied his hand. Harvey let his fingers wander over his face. Nothing out of the ordinary. Smooth skin, he could still see, and his hair fell limply against his forehead. Harvey's hand strayed across the rest of his face and his breathing began to pick up.

Bandages wrapped around his face. He closed his good eye and saw that vision in his other eye, albeit blurred, was fine. That was a good sign. Harvey stared at his left hand and noticed that it too was bound in white bandages. What was going on?

Don't you remember, Harv? The flower that squirted in your face?

What about it?

Acid, Apollo…guess the clown's got good aim. Hurts, don't it?

N-No…not really. I…I don't feel anything.

Probably killed any nerves you got left.

Harvey's lips trembled as he continued to pat down his face, an expression of disbelief growing.

No…no this can't be—

Happening? Well it is…

Harvey shook his head numbly, eyes wide with horror. No! NO! What's happening! What's going on! What about my job! I can't work like this…I can't…I can never work again?

Oh, Harvey. You know that answer already.

But what about Joker? About Falcone? What happens to them!

Well, Joker's in custody I'm sure. But Falcone…well…not too sure about him.

Harvey felt his eyes water and took in a deep, shaky breath.

So…that's it then? I…I just give up? My career. My life. Everything gone because of that…that freak melted my FACE!

That about sums it up.

Harvey stared up at the ceiling, his breathing short and shallow.

Then again…

What?

Well, who said anything about your career being over?

Harvey frowned as best he could behind his bandages.

I can't work anymore. My face was eaten away by acid…do you honestly think anyone in their right mind would want a lawyer like me? I'm ruined.

Ah, too true. But that doesn't mean you can't start over.

Start over? From what? I have NOTHING!

The voice fell quiet in his mind for only an instant. You have me.

And…who are you?

Harvey gave an audible gruff chuckle and blinked, clapping his hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to laugh. Why did he laugh?

I'm you Harvey Dent. I'm everything you dream to be and do…and more.

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"He awake yet?"

"Not that I know of…" Bruce murmured quietly, his eyes wandering from the hospital room door back to Jim Gordon.

"I found out yesterday…would have been here sooner but I was tied up at Arkham."

"Yeah, I heard about that. The breakout during the incident at the court."

Jim shrugged, glancing over his shoulder as a nurse chatted with one of the doctors. "I guess criminals have good timing. While everyone focused on Joker, they took a chance." He looked at Bruce, who was trying his best to look bored. He couldn't let Gordon know he was intrigued by this. Jim took the bait and cleared his throat. "Sorry…I must be putting you to sleep with all this cop talk."

"It's fine Mr. Gordon."

"Please, call me Jim," said the older man, smiling faintly. He brushed his mustache with his fingers and adjusted his glasses. "When'll they let us see him?"

"The nurse told me a few minutes," Bruce yawned, watching as the same nurse waltzed past him towards the room. "I saw a surgeon go in a second ago. Probably to check on his face and hand."

"Did they give you any information?"

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing I haven't heard already. He's permanently scarred."

"Poor kid."

Both men jumped suddenly as a scream ripped through the hall. "The hell?" Gordon snapped and took off towards Harvey's room with Bruce hot on his heels. The door swung open before they could reach it, and the nurse stared at the approaching men in terror. "Get security!"

Gordon skid to a stop and looked past the woman, staring into the room. Everything looked fine. His eyes drifted to the floor and stopped when they landed on a pair of legs sticking out from behind the hospital bed. Bruce also stared at the legs and turned to the nurse. "Is that…Harvey?"

"No, that's Dr. Carlson! Mr. Dent is gone!" She threw her hand back and pointed at the man behind the bed. "And he killed him!"

Bruce was flabbergasted. "That…that can't be." The nurse pushed past him, fleeing down the hallway towards the nurse's station at the end and barking orders to get security down here immediately.

Bruce made his way into the room, sliding the curtain back and feeling his stomach go cold. The blankets were tossed away, and the bed was draped in wires and tubes from the machines, now holding out a long high-pitched tone signaling that the pulse was gone. Jim sidled up beside Bruce and sighed, passing his hand through his hair.

"This isn't good."

"Could it…it could have been from the medicine right?" Bruce asked, peering over the bedside. The surgeon lay still, eyes open wide and Harvey's breathing tube wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Medication…it's possible. Probably didn't know where he was…saw a man coming at him with a scalpel…"

"Harvey's smarter than that, Jim," Bruce uttered darkly, placing a steadying hand on the metal bar of the bed.

Gordon nodded and folded his arms. "I know. That's what worries me."

Bruce looked at the open window and frowned. He had to have escaped through there. Otherwise he would have been seen. Bruce scanned the room and saw Harvey's clothes, his shoes and the suit he had worn at court, were also missing. "He took his stuff."

Gordon turned slightly, looking at the where Harvey's items had been neatly folded. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know." Bruce brought his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "Excuse me Jim. I should get going. I still have to talk to Rachel about this whole mess."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Mr. Wayne?" Gordon asked as Bruce headed out the door. "In the state she's in?"

Bruce paused and looked back at the older man. "She needs to know. She'd kill me if she found out before I could tell her myself." He gave the policeman a nod and disappeared out the door.

He would talk to Rachel. But first, he needed to change. He didn't want to have to take long. Once he was done with Rachel, he'd go straight to searching for Harvey. He couldn't have gotten too far in his state. The man was on morphine, half his face was gone, and he was dressed in hospital drab. It wouldn't be hard to find him.

Then again in Gotham, nothing was ever that easy.

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Where am I going?

Just keep walking, Harvey…keep walking.

The young man stumbled through the dark alley, clutching his left arm and wincing with each step. His face was still bandaged, but he had managed to change out of his hospital gown. His face had taken most of the acid, therefore leaving his suit unusually intact save for a larger hole or two from the liquid running down his face. Harvey stopped and leaned his back up against the wall.

I can't keep running. I'm tired…

You just killed a man, Harvey.

You told me to.

Harvey laughed again, a barking sound. "'You told me to?' I think you mean you told yourself to." Harvey groaned and placed his head in his hands, forcing himself to push away from the wall and continued down his erratic path.

What's wrong with me?

You're going crazy. Plain and simple, pal.

Harvey peered around the corner of the alley and stared at the marble steps leading up to the law firm he worked at.

Used to work at.

Why are we here, Harv?

"I need my things."

Like?

Harvey Dent was thankful for the cloak of darkness surrounding him as night fell over Gotham. His injured half was hidden from passersby while his good eye scanned for anyone looking at him. Harvey started up the steps and felt his pocket for keys. "I need some files. I left some money in my desk. Anything of value and importance to me."

Well I suggest we hurry up.

Why? Harvey returned the conversation to his head when he entered the building.

We don't want anyone to see us.

I don't think we have to worry about that…the young man thought as he stared at the dimly lit hall. Lucky for him, everyone had left for the night. Not many people liked working late shifts, except Rachel when she was around. Now only the glint of an desk lamp carelessly left on was seen here and there. The janitor would take care of that. Right now, Harvey needed to gather his things before the cleaning crew appeared.

The young man slipped into his office, thankful he had left his keys in his suit pocket that day in court, and headed for the desk. Rummaging through the filing cabinets as quietly as he could, he felt a slight agitation and urgency to hurry.

This is taking too long…

I need to get my things.

Your friends will have sent the police. Bruce. He was in the hospital since you were admitted.

Bruce stuck around that long?

He'll know you're gone…and I'll bet that guy Gordon you like so much will know too. The entire GCPD will be on our tails. And may I remind you about the dead man on the hospital floor?

Alright, alright. Just gimme a second.

Harvey picked up one of the many briefcases on the floor and stuffed some manila folders in it; papers about some of his cases, several documents on Falcone, and a few of his own papers, like his ID. Harvey twisted around and slumped onto his office chair, searching the desk before him.

You're not through yet.

Harvey blinked and glanced down at the drawers by his side. He yanked the top handle and opened the first drawer. …what am I looking for?

You'll see.

Harvey began to rummage through the mess of papers, a stapler, some rubber bands, but suddenly froze as something cold touched his fingers.

Ahh…there we go…

The young man's fingers wrapped around the object and pulled it out of the drawer. His handgun. He always kept it there…just in case. Wh-why would I need this?

Why else? This is Gotham, baby. You'd be an idiot not to be packin' some sort of protection.

Harvey quickly stuffed the gun in jacket and moved to stand when something caught his eye. A faint gleam of silver, peeking out from behind a stack of papers on his desk.

Take it.

Harvey was in a trance-like state as hesitantly reached forward and picked up a large silver object…a coin. My coin. He let his thumb brush the raised face on the coin. He flipped it over and saw an equally pristine face staring back at him. Harvey stood very still, holding the coin in his palm and studying it in the light.

Harvey.

The young man stared up and caught his reflection in the glass window of his door. He frowned, cocking his head like a curious puppy, and brought his bandaged hand up to his face.

Are you afraid?

Afraid? Of what?

Of seeing the true you?

No.

He placed the coin down on the table and began unwinding the bandages on his hand. It felt like ages before he finally exposed his injuries. The skin was raw, pink. Pits and bubbles of skin showed were the acid had eaten away. Even his tendons were more visible. His hand looked skeletal. He was surprised to realize that, even while flexing his fingers, he felt no pain. Harvey then took a frayed end of his face bandage and sucked in his breath. Did he want to see it? He knew it wouldn't be a pleasant sight…but he had to. He just needed to see…

Harvey's hand slowly twirled above his head, loosening coil after coil of thick white bandages. His movements grew quicker as he neared the end of his dressings. Get it off…I gotta get if off…Pulse racing, heart thundering in his chest as he let the final curl of bandages fall from his face and onto the desk.

Harvey's eyes were wide as he passed his right hand over the gnarled skin on his face.

No…

Don't be so vain, Apollo. I like it.

No. Harvey backed up, staring in terror at the window of his door. His skin was sagging, gouged and red from his burns. His lip was curled in a sharp snarl, eaten away by the acid, and his hair…Harvey passed a hand on the top of his head and choked out a pathetic noise. Frayed, sticking out wildly, patchy and horrible. Oh god no…Wh-what did that monster do to me!

What did I say about vanity, Harvey?

Harvey's hands roved around his face in disbelief, fingers shaking and clawing at his skin. "No…no…NO!"

Harvey be quiet! Someone will

Harvey grasped the letter opener on his desk and plucked the coin up in his left hand.

Harvey…what the hell are you doing?

The young man held the coin in his palm and put the tip of the knife against it. Rage could not come close to what Harvey felt. Hatred…Fury…he began gouging his letter opener against the thick metal of his silver dollar. His good half smiled as wickedly as the disfigured half as the pristine surface began to show faint scratches. The knife often slipped on the coin's surface and dug deep into Harvey's hand, but he felt nothing. The dead nerves in his skin wouldn't allow it.

"You're bleeding." Harvey hissed, eyes darting to the trickle of blood slowly dripping to the floor. His expression dropped once again to disinterest as he continued to slash at the coin.

"I don't care."

"You know that isn't working."

Harvey held up the coin and laughed, pointing at it with the letter opener. "Oh I think it is." The scratches, though small, were clearly visible. Harvey's attention snapped up when he heard the sound of footsteps. "Night crew."

"Let's get out of here."

Harvey snatched up his briefcase, pocketed his coin and letter opener, and bolted from the office. He saw the shadow descending from the stairwell and immediately ducked out the front door just as someone entered the ground floor behind him. Harvey flew down the firm's steps, veering in a half circle, and down the same alley he had just come from earlier.

"Where do we go now?"

"We? Ah, warming up to me already Harvey?"

"Unfortunately you're the only one I have right now."

"Your place. Get what you need. We go to Arkham tomorrow."

Harvey's pace slowed as he shook his head. Had he heard himself correctly? "Arkham? Tomorrow? Why?"

"We need to talk to your friend Rachel."

"Rachel has nothing to do with this."

"Don't worry, Dent. I won't hurt her. Or should I say you won't hurt her. No…we need to get some information."

"About what?"

Harvey felt compelled to look at the briefcase in his hands. "You put Falcone's file in there."

"What?" He murmured. "Why…why would I do that?"

"Why would you do anything you've done so far, Harvey? You're stuck with me because YOU got ordered to take over Joker's case. You lost Falcone's trial. Do you honestly think a man like him didn't pull strings to get you traded off?" Harvey's eyes lit up as if a light had turned on in his mind. "You see? Now…who's fault is it that you look like this? Certainly not the Joker's. No…Falcone. His fault."

"How could I not have seen this…"

"Jaded by anger, I suppose. Now, your little friend Rachel knows all about Carmine. After all, she was assigned to him longer than you were. Talk to her and we…"

Harvey's lips turned up in an eerie smile as he picked up his gait, aiming for home. "Find Falcone."

"Kill Falcone. Cause a little stir. Like I said, Harvey my boy…we start over. Only this time…it's you and me against the world. We know how the world works."

"I like how you think."

"Likewise."

Harvey bolted down the alley, one hand gripping the suitcase while the other fingered the coin in his pocket. His eyebrows narrowed into a frown as he felt the smooth metal and turned the corner. "But…but it could get ugly. I mean…what about…" He grunted and shook his head madly. "I used to be Harvey, Mr. Good Guy. I don't know if I can…"

He felt a growling chuckle rise from his throat and took out the dollar, looking down at it for a fleeting second.

"Getting second thoughts already? Tsk tsk, Harvey. You know as well as I do that there's a fine line between good and evil. Who's to say what's right and wrong, boy? Perhaps a little help in deciding is what you need." Harvey nodded and stowed the coin back in his pocket. "We leave tomorrow. Now…get your clothes together, get any money you have, anything of value that we can pawn off. And we'll need help."

"Help?"

"Our visit to Arkham may prove to be even more fruitful than we thought."

"…fruitful? Oh...don't tell me I'm gonna start using puns now…"

He grunted again, smiling. "Just keep runnin' Apollo."