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It was a bad day in Arkham asylum. Not that any day was particularly good, but this day was one of the worst. February 2nd. 2/2. The day Harvey Dent’s life changed forever. Harvey was not a person you wanted to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. He was grouchy, quick tempered, and loud about it. Today he was in rare form.

“Does anyone in this god-forsaken place know how to make real food?!” He yelled, and the sea of inmates expertly parted as he threw his food across the room. They were unperturbed, as most of them had been here for at least three 2/2s.

“Harvey, please, control yourself,” Penguin sighed from across the table. 

Harvey’s fiery glare found its mark on the bird, who shriveled under it. The Riddler was quick to come to his defense.

“What is shorter than a yard stick but holds grown adults hostage?”

“Not in the mood, Eddie.”

“A toddler. Now, will you stop acting like one?”

A loud crash rang through the cafeteria as Harvey tackled Ed to the ground.

“This is what happens when you antagonize him!” Oswald chided over the tussle.

“I wasn’t antagonizing anyone - guard!”

A hulking guard picked Harvey up by the back of his uniform.

“Dent got in another fight,” he said to his radio, “take him to the cold wing?”

“Affirmative,” crackled through the speaker.

Harvey was dragged out of the cafeteria and through the dusty corridors of Arkham. Harvey knew very well where he was going. The floor he was being dragged across became colder and colder as they traveled. Soon enough, Harvey could see his breath. Clang. He was thrown into a cell, much like his own, but about 50 degrees colder. In it was a heavy blanket - and nothing else.

“You rat bastard! Get me outta here this instant!” Two Face growled as the door was closed.

He kicked and yelled until his voice was horse and his legs were sore. Next door, there was a rustling.

“Harvey…” A rumbling voice called. 

“Rise and shine, Jack Frost, you’ve got company.”

Harvey could hear the deep sigh from the cell next to him. 

“Dent. Another fight?”

“Yeah. The pleasure of your company is the next best thing to solitary confinement.”

A dark chuckle.

“What was it about this time?” Victor asked.

“Pff,” Harvey scoffed, “Eddie accused me of acting like a toddler.”

Victor barked out a laugh.

“What's so funny?” Harvey snapped.

“Well, you do have a certain boyish temperament.”

“You callin’ me a kid?”

“Generously. It would be more accurate to say Edward was right, for once.”

Harvey growled.

“See? Just another one of your temper tantrums.”

“Why I oughta - you don’t know nothin’ about- I- I-”

Harvey sighed.

Victor heard him slump down against the wall, defeated.

“I really am a kid, aren’t I?”

The rough voice had disappeared, replaced by a smoother one, small and confused. Something had switched. Big Bad Harv had retreated.

“... there are worse things to be,” Victor offered.

Harvey hummed in agreement, shrugging.

“I have a proposal for you,”

“A break out?” Two face made a brief return,

“Not tonight,” Victor chuckled.

“Oh…”

“An experiment,” Victor said. Harvey perked up in intrigue.

“Oh?”

“Let’s see if Edward’s hypothesis holds any water.”

Harvey slumped again, scoffing.

“No need to taunt me, Fries. It’s not like I could feel any worse.”

“That is my point,”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“You’ve… had a long, hard day Harvey.”

“You said it.”

“I think, perhaps… you’re tired.”

Harvey said nothing.

“You just need to get some rest, that’s all.”

“...alright, I’ll buy that for a dollar. What do you want me to do?”

“Take that blanket, make sure you’re wrapped up.”

“I’m already there, trust me.”

“Now lay down.”

Victor could hear the shuffling. 

“Now, just… relax. Close your eyes.”

There was a moment of silence, barely a minute.

“This isn’t working for me, Victor.”

“I have another idea.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got, doc,” Harvey’s voice was weak.

Victor sighed.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Clara.”

He expected a laugh, honestly. A jeer. A snarl. But nothing came. Just silence - contemplative, listening, silence.

“She had a mysterious uncle, who came baring gifts…”

Victor continued his story, the Nutcracker. As he recounted it, he pictured his wife on the stage. She always made a lovely Sugar Plum Fairy. Harvey, for once, didn’t talk but listened. Victor could hear his steady breath, slowing down until it was calm. He finished his story, and looked at Harvey’s reflection in the glass cell across the way. He lay sleeping, wrapped in the blanket.