Two Minds. One Subject.

I wasn't planning on sharing my other Batman art here (other than Two-Face) but here is some of my takes on Batman characters :)

The Coyote was glad she didn’t have to answer who started it. Honestly, she didn’t really remember. Things had escalated quickly.

”No one.” Sen7inel confirmed almost immediately, shaking her head. That was the one thing she thought she managed to pull off well during this whole debacle. “At least, they shouldn’t. Haven’t told anyone. Not exactly a… good look.”

It stung her ego to admit that.

Now settled on the couch, the blonde tucked the stick between her lips and gave her almost empty lighter a few flicks. A few puffs and an exhale later, she finally let out of sigh. The bruise throbbed. It had dulled to an ache but was still noticeable if she didn’t have something to distract her.

“I think I’m going to need more than just one drink, h e h . Maybe sooner than later.” Sen7inel huffed, taking another draw, the red ember flaring slightly. After several long seconds she exhaled, smoke whispering upwards. Gray eyes finally flicked up to meet Harvey’s gaze. Her voice was quiet. Smaller.

“Thanks Harv… Really. I uh… owe you one. Both of you. I don't intend to make a habit of showing up unannounced.”

~. There was a beat, a somber silence -- before the former attorney spoke again.

"You don't owe us anything."

With the turn of his heel, he sat down on the other side of the couch. Hunching forward with his elbows on his knees and hands locked together to form a diamond shape between his palms.

"...There was this case that I worked on, early in my career. A young woman, trying to escape her abusive husband."

Although Harvey didn't look immediately at her, his presence was enough to remind her that his attention was all put onto her.

Rowan had to let out a rare, small laugh. It was genuine, something that would be spared for Harvey and Harvey only. "No, a DUI charge would not land very well. Especially considering how the masses have come to idolise you. You wouldn't want to let them down."

She appreciated having control in this situation. Harvey, unlike the majority of their male colleagues, wasn't cocky. She found it refreshing, when she knew that anyone else in his position would be unlikely to act in such a manner. Rowan certainly wouldn't.

"I suppose I owe it to you, Harvey. I did miss your last birthday, after all. Perhaps this can be in celebration of your new role." Rowan wasn't exactly one to celebrate many occasions- such things were frivolous- but for her friend, she could make an exception.

Though observant, Rowan failed to notice her companion's strange behaviour. She, of course, had underestimated his capability for complexity. In her mind, Harvey Dent was quite straightforward.

"Well, alright then. I'm not one to resist a ride home." A lie- not like she was often offered lifts home, anyway. But from Harvey Dent? Rowan didn't mind.

~. "Oh really? You DID miss my b i r t h d a y ? I didn't even realize. But damn, you're right. You got a lot to make up for then."

All jokes aside, Harvey did enjoy being able to let his guard down around her. Even if that came with the voices in his head becoming a little bit more prominent, a little bit more urgent.

Faker. All you do is lie to yourself. To everyone around you.

You fake everything.

When the two of them slipped into Rowan's office, Harvey made sure that the door was closed and locked before proceeding forward. The last thing they needed was another colleague or assistant bursting in when all they wanted was to enjoy a glass of wine in peace and quiet.

"Seriously, though. I appreciate this. The workload's been killing me lately."

The word exited his lips with a huff as he sat down, like all air left him in a sweeping motion. With crossed legs, he leaned into the leather armchair - eyes still darting back to her once in a while.

"So, your dad. Tell me all about him. What's he gone done now? You said he's got a new wife -- which one is it this time? Number two? Three?" .~

⠀⠀⠀The invite to meet up was unexpected, but not unwelcomed. As much as Harvey had fallen from the man he once was, the man Bruce called a brother, he was still Harvey. A deep sigh flared his nostrils as Alfred pulled up to the location, glancing at Bruce in the rear-view mirror. ⠀⠀⠀"Master Bruce," he spoke, calmly, "we have arrived. Do give Master Dent my best regards, won't you?" A warm smile on Alfred's face, happy to see his would-be son spending time with someone he was close friends with. It was nice to see the man out of the cowl. ⠀⠀⠀"Will do, Alfred." Bruce responded, stepping out of the car and taking a deep breath in, before heading inside the café. He almost immediately spotted Harvey - it was hard not to, given the way that people would stare at him. Brow furrowed, before he made his way over to the table Harvey was sitting at. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀"Harvey?" He spoke, somewhat unsure - it was strange to see him without his mask on. Both Harvey and Bruce. Pulling the chair out and taking a seat, a small smile was on Bruce's lips, but it wasn't genuine. It was the same kind of smile that he'd give the reporters who hounded him with questions. ⠀⠀⠀"It's good to see you. Alfred sends his best. He misses you." Glancing over at Harvey as he spoke, the man was curious about the sudden request to meet. "So... Let's get right to this then, shall we? You invited me out here. It sounded urgent. What's going on?" ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

~. H a r v e y ?

Although the two men had been staring out into the direction of the entrance the entire time, it wasn't until his name was spoken so fondly that Harvey appeared to snap out of the vacant staring. He was right about to stand up out of courtesy before Bruce had already taken his seat -- which prompted him to keep his.

"It's...good to see you too, Bruce."

Already, the voices in his head had begun to bicker and nag at his psyche. How did he not deserve to even be around someone who had done everything in his power to help him? How was he better off staying away to keep the other safe?

But for the time being, his own voice was louder than theirs.

"Yes, I---," With a finger looped between his neck and the dual-colored collar, Harvey took a deep breath. "I need to speak to you. Alone. Before he gets a chance to intervene. And ---"

There was no easy way to say this.

"...I've been...thinking about that evening again. At the Opera Hall. The night Batman had me admitted into Arkham."

His fingers continued to fidget, traveling from his collar down to the table, tapping nervously. Eyes still scanning the surrounding area to assure himself they were alone.

At last, Harvey's mixed set of orbs fixated on his old friend. Praying that what he was about to ask would be met with complete honesty and nothing else. He was running out of time - they both were.

"...Bruce, are you...Are you him? Batman?" .~

He hates that part.

The reliance.

It crawls under his skin, subtle and persistent, refusing to be ignored even as he composes himself. The unease doesn’t fade, if anything it settles- like a low hum beneath his thoughts. Constant. Irritating.

It was idiotic, given the circumstances. Given the individuals. He was overthinking again. How… embarrassingly dramatic of him.

By the time they reach the closet, he has already begun reconstructing himself. Posture straightened. Expression smoothed. Whatever weakness had threatened to show is carefully folded away, tucked behind in his brain for it to chastise at a later date. He steps forward as Harvey releases him, forcing himself not to linger as his fingers go to brush through the hanging clothes with idle disinterest.

“Never one for subtlety, are you?” he hums lightly, tone dry but not necessarily unkind. The split garments are exactly what he expected. Loud where Harvey is restrained. Neat where Two-face is chaotic. A walking contradiction made fabric. Edward flips through them without much care at first, more out of obligation than genuine interest.

It shouldn’t matter what he chooses. Nothing here belongs to him, not really.

“…Mh.”

His attention drifts toward the simpler options- the plain shirts, practical, unassuming. The kind of choice one makes when they have no desire to be seen. His hand hovers there briefly, fingers brushing fabric that would allow him to disappear into the background without question.

‘Safe.’

Boring.

And yet his hand stops elsewhere. One of the many split fabrics making up nearly the entirety of the twos closet.

—The green catches him first. Not the exact shade he prefers, but… close enough to stir something instinctive. His gaze sharpens slightly as he studies the split design, the clashing patterns layered over it. It’s… loud. Intentional. A statement piece in the most literal sense… just as everything else here were.

He glances down at himself—at the worn, ill-fitting clothes hanging off his frame—before looking back at the shirt.

A pause.

Then, finally—

“Any attachment to this?”

~. Both their minds had begun to wander while they watched Edward pick out an outfit, with no deeper insinuation behind the wandering gaze. But it wasn't until Edward turned, holding the piece of garment up in their line of sight, that they jerked out of it.

"Ah, yeah. Right here."

Stepping back up, Harvey joined by Nygma's side. Carefully not trying to stare him down while picking out the suit jacket and trousers for the shirt. Upon further investigation of the size and length, they could definitely make this work...

Hopefully. Probably. They weren't all that different in size anymore...

"Anyway -- Subtlety is far overrated. Who wants to walk around dressin' like everybody else -- when you clearly can't even look like everybody else anymore?"

Harvey sneered slightly at his conjoined associate -- giving him just a moment's worth of respect before attempting to wash over his words in a true Harvey-Dent sort of manner. "Well. Two-Face likes to dress like an oversized toddler sometimes. I, however -- I only focus on showing a clean, cut look." "I so fucking don't, asshole."

A pause.

"Anyway--"

The two, rejoined once more, gestured for Ed to pay them little mind and do something more important -- like trying the outfit on. Both personalities gestured forward, eager to see him reclaim even just a part of his old self.

"Should we leave the room while you get dressed?" It was the most polite thing they could offer after practically everything that had happened -- after all, Ed's making his own choices was important to them both.~

...

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly the right time to worry about his gun, when he had just gotten his face punched in and he wasn't exactly safe at all just yet, but he just couldn't help it.

He looked up at Two-Face when he mocked him, with the same unimpressed frown he'd given the kicked gun.

"Yeah-- So what? Tha's my offer, take it or leave it--" he grumbled, with far more bravado than he probably should in that moment, only for his words to catch in his throat when Two-Face crouched in front of him. So damn close he could smell him.

Serik's breath caught, then grew heavier -- from fear, anticipation, thrill? It was hard to tell. This was dangerous. So damn dangerous. He could feel the danger nearly exuding from the fucked up man-- men, in front of him. These were madmen. Two madmen in one person. Unpredictable and dangerous. And miss-step and he'd be done for.

And yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away.

He swallowed hard, nodding minutely. Only theirs? That would be a fucking problem, but he'd make it work. One problem at a time. He could deal with Vince later.

The pat on his cheek made him flush in embarrassment. The fucking nerve of that guy... It was so damn condescending it made him shake inside in a weird mix of emotions he couldn't even begin to describe.

That's what something else dawned on him.

"-- W-wait-! Four days?!" He knew he wasn't in any sort of position to make demands, but-- Shit. That wasn't much at all. "Tha's not much at all!" he still protested, pleadingly looking between anyone who deigned meet his eyes. "I- I thought I'd-- be workin' with you, not- fuck, not on my own...? It's more-- I mean." He licked his dry lips anxiously. "You've already got leads, right? It's more- more efficient?" he half-squeaked.

"I fuckin' promise, I'm not gonna skip town but-- Fuck, I'm r'lly fuckin' tryin' t' help... Don' set me up for somethin' impossible..." His eyes fell on Binary, silently pleading. She seemed like the most reasonable person here.

~. "Oh no, no -- You won't be alone. --- See?"

Just like Serik, Harvey's multi-colored eyes fell on Binary. Giving her shoulder a much frowned-upon pat from the hacker's side.

Her masked stature didn't need much to look disappointed -- it was practically dripping off of her body language as Harvey offered her up to the mercenary like a band-aid to his gushing, open wounds.

"--- Binary here will help ya. Ya still answer to us, obviously -- but she'll help you along the way. Don't worry -- she doesn't bite. Hard."

Right as the duo was about to leave, they stopped mid-step. Turning back, leaning in close to his henchwoman's side. Her front still facing Serik, studying him as Two-Face hissed his orders into her ear.

"Make sure he doesn't bolt or get himself killed before we get a chance at finishing this, Neroni. It's in your hands now."

" Of course, boss. Wouldn't even dream of letting that happen..."

With a whistle, Bob and Bub let Serik go. Their phantom touch still lingering upon his skin through the hardened grip -- leaving to follow Two-Face and Harvey down the ladder again.

"Four days. Don't fuck it up, G e r i k ."

And with that, all three four of them were gone. And when all of them were both out of sight (and mind), the hacker's hand reached out to help Serik off the ground.

"...--- Come on. We got work to do." .~

He says the name softly, the vowels and the syllables and the sounds all falling from his mouth and dragged down to the floor with the syrup Jonathan has drowned them in.

”Now lying is not necessarily the sin, but trying so desperately to convince yourself of your own lie is distasteful. You are part of your other half as much as he is part of you. From where I stand, I can see you as what you are— two parasites trying to consume the other from within.”

”But that is not the most important secret to be told here, because that is a problem built for another time, when your brain is more malleable and the two of you have blurred together until the two of you are anything but distinct.”

”What matters now is that the two of you exist in a sort of… complicated impossibility.”

”And everyone you know can see that. They can look past the titles and the faces and the lies and see that you are nothing more than a scared child curled up on the floor. And they hate you for it.”

~. A scream was pressing through his compressed lungs, but no sound came out. Not even a single breath could force through the barricade inside his body -- shutting down inch by inch.

He wanted to grab what he could get a hold of and start throwing it around --- but his hands only trembled as words got stuck in his throat on repeat. The only thing tangible was the voice of the judge -- the very same words that brought him deeper into dissociation.

Only when he could finally feel every droplet of sweat collecting in his palms did he return to his current reality.

"T-That's not true ---," Harvey spoke, out of breath from the raw terror of seeing the other version of himself approach. "I-If they knew, they would've told me. They would've helped me. I am not ---"

A b r e a t h.

"I'm not a ---

M O N S T E R ."

Then, he locked eyes with the other, who now stood a mere inch away from his face. The scar tissue painted upon his skin reeking of chemical burns --- protruding up into his nostrils with a stinging sensation.

He could see his pain. Sensed his emotions. Like he took part in them -- every single one.

"I-I can fix this. I-It's not too late." .~

"Were you expecting that I would not?"

A scoff, though it is slightly strangled by another emotion that he does not care to investigate further. If he had to put a label on it, he would say that it lies somewhere between bitter amusement and genuine offense.

"I'm insulted, Harvey."

~. "B a h -- Be as insulted as you want to be. We couldn't care less."

They were simply looking out after their own skin.

Out of pure frustration, the duo's hands shot up into the air, head shaking in surrender, although they were not even remotely close to waving that white flag anytime soon.

"We're just stating our feelings on the matter. But good. Glad to hear you're not thinking about running your mouth to tarnish our reputation."

Although, to be fair, they were pretty good at doing that themselves.

"As long as...we're cool..."

Cool? Even? The wording of choice wasn't important, as long as Crane got the message they were trying to convey.

"...That's all that matters.".~

His dad was Irish... Was that a lucky guess? Truly just a 'joke'? Or did they know that much about him...? He dreaded to know which option that was...

They already knew his goddamn name -- he would have protested the tone, but he knew when to shut up... sometimes... But if they knew that, what else did they know? It made him feel so uncomfortably vulnerable, maybe even more than getting punched and questioned did.

He shrunk on himself a bit when he was released, flushing in embarrassment, and making no more attempts at escaping. For now. What was the point?

And honestly, the confusion had taken over the urge to run away by now. He hadn't killed anyone. He'd know, goddammit. He hadn't had any sort of blackout or anything, so he knew he hadn't killed anyone.

And sure he had a gun on himself today -- and a sniper rifle at home -- but... Dammit, he didn't use them to kill people. Not unless he was forced to. Or even when he was forced to.. It wasn't like he'd threatened anyone here with it yet -- mostly because he knew if he started this kind of threats he'd quickly get out-threatened, but that was beside the point.

Two-face was infamous for being an evil motherfucker but...

He glanced at them. They seemed genuine here. Genuinely discontent about losing one of their men...

... He didn't want them to think he was this kind of person who would just kill their men without reason...

He took a deep breath.

"It's not-- Shit, I swear it, it's not me..." He glanced at them again, then to their henchwoman. "I- I didn' do it. I was..." Ugh, his own boss would be mad at him if he knew he was about to tell on their plan but dammit. He'd just have to deal with it. If anything, Serik saw it as doing them a favour by making sure that mess didn't end up spilling onto their little group later by clearing the air now.

"I was only-- I was busy sabotaging the cell tower... And.. redirectin' data. I di'n' touch your man." He looked at Two-face with a mix of determination and defiance in his gaze.

"Look-- I have got a gun." He raised both hands, then slowly reached for the handgun in his jacket, making sure all the while that they could see he wasn't threatening any of them. He cautiously set it down on the floor in front of himself, along with all his ammunition. "I do. Bu' it can't be the same ballistics, 'f you wanna test tha'. 'cause I didn't shoot your guy. Y' can pat me down, I got nothin' else on me..."

He paused to think, worrying at his lower lip. They could think he might have throws the weapon away after doing the thing... Hell, he was thinking it...

~. "Cell tower? What cell tower?"

Harvey snapped back at Binary like she'd have an answer for him -- but in return, her shoulders only shrugged in response. Gritting their teeth, Two-Face turned back to Serik, who was still forced into a kneeling position by the two henchmen -- caring little about his comfort.

When the gun was revealed and placed on the ground, Two-Face gave it a firm kick to send it out of reach.

"--- H a h ! -- You? Helping us? You got guts, punk. We'll give you that."

As much as they wanted to decline his offer, they had chased him down for a reason. Tracks had gone cold, and even when Binary couldn't fit the puzzle pieces together about their unknown murderer-- they were in poor, shit luck at the moment.

So maybe Serik's offer came just in the nick of time after all.

"Wanna prove ya' innocence? You have our permission. But on one condition..."

Crouching, Harvey emphasized his words again by inching as close as he could get. His presence, scented with smoke and cologne, intruding upon Serik's personal space.

"Until then -- you answer to us and ONLY us. What we say, goes. So you better tell whoever you runnin' with otherwise that for now -- you're ours and only ours."

And as for the matter of when...

"You got four days. And if you decide to skip town..."

Two-Face's and Binary's eyes --- and the duo grinned from ear to ear towards their henchwoman.

"She will find out and make sure you'll never be able to run in your entire life again. Capiché?"

Serik's reddened and now bruised face was patted down by Two-Face's gloved hand, the soft slap echoing through the cold air upon the rooftop where they all stood.

"Binary, darling."

"Yeah?"

"Set him up with a burner phone to contact us through."

"Now? Hh -- Okay. Fine. Yes, boss." .~

Rowan watched Harvey as they stood in the elevator. For a moment, he seemed anxious. Lost in thought. Perhaps she was far too harsh, or perhaps it was something far worse. Somewhere, in the quiet depths of her mind, Rowan worried for Harvey.

She followed suit and exited the elevator. She was curious, though she felt like he was being genuine. Harvey Dent had always been a genuine man, as far as Rowan could tell. But position, authority, changes people. She was painfully aware of this, she had seen it in her father, in herself.

Rowan nodded at Harvey, adjusting the dark leather strap of her bag as it slipped slightly. "Yeah, it is quite nice. I could set up a charcuterie board as well, if you would like."

The attorney paused.

"It would be good to have a friend to talk to." 'Friend' was word that rarely made its way through Rowan's mind, never mind one which she spoke.

She walked by his side through the ground floor of the courthouse. Rowan couldn't help but notice how many people seemed to look at him with... awe? Respect? Appreciation, maybe? She couldn't deny that she felt the same respect for her friend. But they respected Apollo. She respected Harvey Dent.

Rowan diverted her attention to her old friend.

"Did you drive?" Not many of her colleagues took public transport, she was almost sure that Harvey didn't either. Perhaps the Gotham railways would be too dangerous for the District Attorney.

~. "I did, but --," Harvey waved his hand dismissively. "I'll grab a cab back home, don't worry. I wouldn't drink and drive; it wouldn't really look good if the district attorney got hit with a criminal charge..."

Something he was sure Rowan would respect more than anything.

Crossing the checkered-colored pattern of the courthouse floor, Harvey let his female colleague do the leading.

It had been her suggestion to step aside and interact one-on-one, so he would take a step back and let her initiate. But simple things, such as opening doors and refraining from interrupting, were a given.

You fuckin' suck-up.

"--- You'd really set up a charcuterie board just for the two of us? Now -- there's no need to treat me THAT well. It ain't even my birthday, you know."

Even as Harvey merely joked around, that voice kept poking around in his head. Causing him to involuntarily flinch when he believed Rowan wasn't looking his way.

"But no, seriously, -- That would be nice. But if you do, let me at least treat you to a ride back home later."

Harvey smiled - warmly.

"I insist.".~

It is… unsettling.

Not the touch itself--he has endured far worse hands, far less merciful ones--but the care behind it. The cautious pressure of fingers against his shoulder, the almost fearful way Harvey tests the contact as though Edward might splinter under the weight of it.

For a fleeting moment, his mind supplies a different pair of hands. Clinical. Precise. Probing at pulse points and pressure spots with detached curiosity.

Crane’s touch had been methodical.

This one is… gentle. Almost unbearably so. Strange that, now when he receives what he has been begging for, it feels far worse than pain ever had.

Edward’s breath leaves him in a thin, humorless laugh.

“…Hah… ha… I will not be thanking that woman.”

The words slip out quickly—too quickly—like something reflexive. Harvey’s thumb moves against his collarbone at the same moment, that soft circling motion sending an odd, unwelcome tension crawling up Edward’s spine.

Once again, the problem lies not in the touch. Rather, the meaning behind it.

This Harvey is looking at him the way someone looks at a miracle that returned from the grave.

And Edward knows—with sharp, irritating clarity—that miracle is not meant for him.

It belongs to that corpse.

That thought flickers behind his eyes for only a moment before he reaches up and intercepts Harvey’s hand, guiding it gently away from his collarbone. Not rough. Not rejecting.

Just… redirecting.

Too easy, his mind insists.

Far too easy.

Expectations live inside gestures like that. Unspoken assumptions waiting patiently to be fulfilled, and Edward Nygma has never enjoyed stepping into roles written by other people.

Especially when the man they were written for is dead.

The conflict that flashes across his expression vanishes almost instantly, sealed behind his usual mask of dry composure.

“And,” he continues, voice smoothing itself out into something far closer to his usual cadence, “I would quite like to change out of these… rags, if you have anything suitable.”

His lip curls faintly in disguise as he glances down at the clothes hanging off his frame.

“God knows how long it has been since I’ve had a proper change of clothing.”

Throughout the exchange, he never quite releases Harvey’s hand.

But he doesn’t entwine their fingers either.

No.

~. Neither personality could judge Edward for his unwillingness to speak to Binary -- because anytime the two of them clashed together, no good ever came out of it. They had no clue to the reason why; perhaps it was a battle of the brains or something deeper -- but no matter what it was; Harvey was in no mood to figure it out today.

Instead, all focus is drawn to the very simple gesture of Ed's hand holding Harvey's. They stayed like that for two seconds while their eyes remained fixated on the other man's face; before unconsciously slipping their fingers together with Ed's.

"Of course we do."

And as Harvey begins to leave to return to the bedroom, he doesn't let go of Ed's hand. They lead him in through the bedroom door, back towards the closet that he and Two-Face shared.

Only then did they let go of his hand -- letting Edward browse through the options if he so wished to.

"Afraid we don't have much in a single color..." Aside from a few plain t-shirts and underwear, everything was split in two. Crazy colors and patterns belonged to Two-Face, while the more subdued and subtle patterns belonged to Harvey. "But you can grab anything that tickles your fancy. Really -- Just take it. Consider it yours."

Backing up, the duo took a seat on the bed. Crossing his legs while both palms pressed back against the bedding.

"--- And hell, if you don't find anything that suits you, at least let us treat you to some new clothes."

Although they had taken a step back, they continued watching Ed move. While they were overjoyed with having him back in their life, seeing him deteriorate like this was...difficult.

Helping him get back to his normal self was the least they could do for him now.

"What do you think? Finding anything you like?" .~