walking beside the guilty and the innocent

[indenture]

WHO: HARVEY DENT and YOU
WHERE: Around.
WHEN: 4/24 - 4/30 (specify!)
WHAT: Harvey Dent has put on his happy face and is ready to share it to the world.
WARNINGS: TBD, will edit as needed.


I. HARVEY ☆ INSIDE AND OUTSIDE HEROPA'S LIBRARY ☆ DAYTIME, ALL DAYS

It's with great determination and self-control unlike any he's had to embrace in years that Harvey is able to make it through a day without flipping his coin every other minute, although he hasn't kicked the habit entirely. It still comes out for the tougher decisions here and there, but for the most part Harvey's mind feels strangely at peace. He feels at peace and wonders distantly if he's deluding himself in feeling that way.

It's been years since he's tried this, longer still since he's really lived a life that could even abstractly be called normal, and even having gone through the surgery Harvey isn't sure he can make this work. Sooner or later, Two-Face always makes himself heard again. He always acts so that Harvey can't forget he's never completely alone. If it were only for Matt's sake this time Harvey would dismiss the idea, but it isn't -- somehow, he's found himself with people that have some amount of faith that he can do this, and it's a strange, uneasy feeling being believed in again. Inspiring, but...

... But right now, his mind is quiet; all he hears are his own thoughts, his own breathing, the soft sound of pages turning as he refreshes himself at the library -- sometimes sitting indoors, sometimes outside at a picnic table with his coat off to enjoy the sun -- brushing up on Heropa law so he can consider retaking the Bar Exam. He spends most of his time there, taking breaks occasionally to grab lunch or coffee somewhere before returning to his studies.

II. TWO-FACE ★ CENTRAL HEROPA ★ EVENING, THE 28TH

The plastic surgery is impeccable, far better than anything he could have gotten back home in Gotham. The technology in this world is far more advanced, and cosmetic reconstruction has certainly benefited from it; the jagged edges of glass from the broken car window in front of him cast unsteady shadows across his face, darkening his eyes in contrast to the thatch of light that hits his cheek from the streetlamp, engulfing his expression like teeth. Shards litter the sidewalk, sparkling like glitter, and he turns his eyes to the inactive spotlight atop the police car's roof before he moves on before whichever cop left it parked there sees fit to return.

About a block away is when he stops at a corner and begins to pluck splinters of glass from his bleeding hand, noting that the surgery has held well even then. The hand is bleeding, but the scars still don't show.

"It was a bad idea," he says to himself -- more than literally -- as he pries a particularly large piece from his palm, holding it up so he can admire it in the light. He touches it to his forehead, marking the center with a small splotch of blood.

Comments

[notdaredevil]

"It doesn't make that much difference to me, and you know it."

Which isn't true; strategically, he doesn't necessarily want to be caught sitting by the window. But it's not worth refusing, right now. Instead, he catches at Harvey's sleeve- just his sleeve, not at his arm.

"Tie?"

[indenture]

"Not aesthetically, but everyone has their preferences," Harvey says, moving closer to Matt so that he can grasp his tie and offer it over. Matt can find his way up to the knot from there, if he's disinclined to allow Harvey to guide his hand to it.

"Got it?" He asks, watching Matt carefully as he leans his fingers against the tabletop. The waitress eyes them curiously from behind the counter but doesn't leave her post yet, waiting for them to sit down first.

[notdaredevil]

Matt can't see, but he's well aware that they're attracting attention. It's the gambling between dealing with Harvey and his moods and trying to keep all of this under wraps and under control. He makes short work of the knot, and tugs it off, reclaiming his space from across the table as soon as he can.

"Speaking of aesthetics..." he says carefully, trying to think of a more delicate way to put this. "How well did they manage it?"

[indenture]

Following Matt's lead, he sits and leans slightly against the tabletop, holding his hand out even though most of the blood has by now at least dried. He wipes it with a napkin, thinking he should wash his hands but reluctant to leave Matt here alone. He might just up and leave if Harvey does that.

"You can feel," he offers. "If you want to. It looks perfect. No one would know if they didn't know already."

[notdaredevil]

It would be foolish to run out on Harvey. For one thing, he knows where Matt lives. He's made that clear enough. And while that's not usually enough to make Matt wary, with his reckless devotion to principles and his own emotions, it seems needlessly cruel with Harvey in this state. He's improving. He very sincerely seems to be doing a lot better, and Matt wants to encourage that. The more he does, he thinks, the less problems there will be later down the road.

Until life kicks his positive expectations in the face.

"I did feel it," he reminds Harvey gently. "But I don't know what you looked like before. I'll never know. You have to tell me how this all goes."

[indenture]

"Right," Harvey says, touching his own cheek briefly for his own reminder. The skin, though soft, is still a bit rough. In the end it's just a patch over irreparable damage, the ghosts of his scars still remembered in his fingertips. Visually it's perfect; physically, it's only almost perfect.

"Right, sorry. I know you don't. Even if I could show you, you wouldn't be able to see it." His hands clasp together loosely on the table. "They smoothed down the scarring to transplant unmarred flesh over it. Hair transplants, nerve transplants, a new glass eye... I'm still getting used to how the muscles move now, but I don't think it's noticeable."

[notdaredevil]

Matt feels inadequate to answer this. Harvey needs help and support, and he's turned to Matt for it, but Matt doesn't know what to give or how to give it. If the subtle cues that indicated injury to him still exist, that doesn't mean everyone would see them. That doesn't mean the scars don't still exist.

"Harvey..."

Matt thinks hard about how to say this, hesitating just for a second before he reaches out to touch Harvey's arm lightly. If he doesn't want to encourage, he also can't bring himself to completely leave the other man without some kind of solidarity. He doesn't know, yet. He doesn't know a lot of things. He doesn't truly know why he shouldn't, or why he shouldn't trust this.

"Did they find you someone to talk to about...this? A doctor?" It's said as gently as he can manage. "I'm sure it's something of a shock for you. A huge change."

[indenture]

A doctor. The word makes Harvey tense, then scowl; he's had a revolving door of doctors throughout the years, some he drove to nervous breakdown, at least one that killed himself. An objection hesitates behind his lips, wondering how to tell Matt that there was no one who could really help him.

When Matt touches him, Harvey's hand drops slowly to to brush Matt's with his fingertips as he breathes slowly and uneasily, searching for his vocabulary.

"I have medication," he says finally, in a lower voice. "Therapy never works for me."

[notdaredevil]

The second Harvey reaches back for him Matt regrets it. But this is the dichotomy of Harvey Dent, Matt's sympathy and his unease, making him second guess gestures of solidarity that he wouldn't even think of. Making him consider them entire in the first place.

And therapy never works for me is an unsettling fact that's just been dropped in his lap.

"But you're doing all right," he presses, listening less for the words and more for the cues of Harvey's body, the hesitations and the tics that give people away.

[indenture]

"Better," Harvey agrees with a nod as he withdraws his hand back to his own side, fingers sitting still against the tabletop. Even that is a measure of willpower; he's restless, his hands especially -- too used to having his coin ready to make decisions for him.

"I used to have a doctor who thought he was responsible for what happened to me. The things I did... and things I didn't. I won't put someone in that position again."

[notdaredevil]

There's a certain irony in having this conversation with Matt Murdock, one of the city's lone wolves. Never really an Avenger, at least not long enough to do much of impact, barely a blip on the radar of his career. Team-ups, yes, but mostly on his own. Friends, but no groups, no organizations. Him and his territory. But he's always had helped, when he needed it.

"Only you can be responsible for what you do, Harvey," he says gravely. "But you should still have help, if you need it. You need to have someone to turn to who's at least semi-experienced in this."

...and a name pops into his head, and he says, with a slight edge:

"Please, if you do decide you need someone- not Dr. Sofen. Or Dr. Chilton, for that matter. Come to me if you have to and I'll help you find a doctor."

[indenture]

Harvey's lip curls up in a sneer, an instant and unconscious tightening of the muscles in his face. Only you can be responsible for what you do, says Matt, and Harvey can't help but resent every word as if he was just directly insulted.

His temper holds, allowing him some control over what he says, how he reacts verbally. His shoulders and hands, like his face, tighten.

"Bone to pick, huh?" His voice is quiet and a little wry, nose wrinkled. Not that he has any intention on seeing either of them, but Matt attempting to forbid him is what Harvey finds amusing. "What other doctors do you know?"

[notdaredevil]

He should have known that landmine was there. He should have phrased that better than he did, except he's not sure of any way that would have gone over better. It doesn't make what he said any less true. He's not here to spare the man's feelings or coddle him.

"When I find one that wasn't part of a supervillain hit squad or who doesn't put me in mind of a billboard advertisement, I'll let you know."

Matt almost said Hank. But he can't drag his friend into any more of his problems than he already has.

[indenture]

Harvey blinks slowly, sitting back in his seat carefully and silently. His gaze lingers forward, fixed on Matt unblinkingly. Gently his fingers drum against the tabletop, making a soft hissing noise between his teeth.

"Don't bother," he says, a bit flippantly as he waves a hand. "I don't need a doctor. The Lord helps those who help themselves." His tone is slightly wry, indicating some mild facetiousness. He and the Lord haven't been on speaking terms for quite some time.

[notdaredevil]

Matt's eyebrows climb halfway to his hairline before he can stop to think about the look on his face. He can't ever tell when Harvey is saying something because he's just saying something or he's saying something that obliquely references something he knows about Matt.

"Sometimes that's leading them towards help," he says, dryly. "But. If you say you're fine, I believe you." Mostly. Or he wants to. It's very hard to tell which. "All injuries aside."