I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.
Rated PG-13 : language; violence, some mature concepts.
Reviews are greatly appreciated. Many thanks to all those who have reviewed or sent feedback, it means a lot - and especially to Rach, Dagmar, Rick, and Silver, who followed me outside their favorite fandoms, and Becky who I haven't thanked by email.
Harvey Dent's Journal, October 10
The doctors thought this would be a good idea. Personally I think it's stupid. Diaries are for teenaged girls, not an ex-DA in prison. But they said it's therapeutic, and I definitely want to get out of here someday, so what the hell; I'll play along.
Okay, so it isn't really a prison. It's an institution for the criminally insane. Arkham. I didn't like visiting here when I was a prosecutor, and I like living here even less now. Bad company, for one thing, when it's full of people like the Joker and the Scarecrow. But I guess I'm no better than they are.
I have to admit they try here. I'm in treatment, therapy sessions every day. They seem to be making a project out of me, since I'm one of the few who might actually improve, according to Dr. Myers. He's my primary therapist. Sort of the head head-shrinker. I guess I should be grateful and happy to be here. But it's still got bars, and cells, and locks. It's still a prison.
Gilda came to see me last week; she's finally out of the hospital. We had a talk. I told her I wanted to break our engagement; don't want her tied down to a guy who's in a prison loony-bin. She refused to take the ring off. As usual, she picks the strangest things to get stubborn about.
Harvey Dent's Journal, November 4
I had an interesting visit from Bruce and Kathy. Hard to tell with those two, but from the way they acted together, the little looks at each other, the way they sat so close... When Kathy stepped out for a few minutes I asked Bruce if they're back together. He got that look, the one that means he doesn't want to give anything away. When I kept after him, he admitted they're going out again. Not a commitment, he said, and he mumbled something about how they're together but not 'together' together... I almost laughed.
And I guess romance is in the air, because they told me Barbara's still dating that kid Bruce introduced her to. Dick Grayson. Bruce seems to think it won't last, for some reason, but Kathy kept saying how sweet they are together - probably just to tease Bruce.
For some reason it occurred to me later to wonder how he had known about the promise I made to Gilda, when I thought she was dying. Maybe Batman told him. Anyway, I suppose it's not important.
Harvey Dent's Journal, November 28
My medical treatment starts next week; I'm having plastic surgery. Must be expensive, and I don't have any money left to speak of - I asked how it's being paid for, and they told me it was an anonymous donor. Anonymous, but I can guess. Bruce, or Kathy. Probably Bruce, it's the kind of thing he would do. I don't know - don't know whether to be grateful, or annoyed because I'll never have any way to repay him.
They're going to remove most of the scars, and use some kind of artificial skin over the wounds, and my skin cells are supposed to grow into it, until eventually it's all just my own skin. It's new, and supposed to be better than regular skin grafts. They warned me that I'll have to have more than one operation, and wear pressure bandages for months, and that I'll still have scars. I'll never look like I did before. How can I tell them it doesn't really matter to me anymore, that I don't really care? My face is my face, and I'm stuck with it. But - an improvement might be a good thing, and I guess they think it'll help.
I'm still getting my head shrunk by Dr. Myers every damn day. Questions about my childhood, my parents, about everything that ever happened to me, and everything I do and say and think and feel. It really gets to me sometimes. Can't he understand there are things I just don't want to talk about, or think about, or even remember? Things it doesn't do any good to rehash? And I swear I'm going to hit the next person who asks, "How does that make you feel?"
Harvey Dent's Journal, December 25
The operation went well, or so they tell me. I have to finish healing from this one, and probably have another in a few months. Whether it did anything, I don't know; I'm still covered in bandaging and this plastic face thing to put pressure on the new skin and keep it smooth.
It's hard, being here for Christmas. Gilda came to visit, but it's still not the same as being home, being free. Being able to have more than a little handholding and a quick kiss hello and goodbye. Maybe someday, if she actually means it about still wanting to marry me.
Therapy's still dragging on, too. Myers' latest thing is my vanity. My 'obsession with beauty and perfection', my 'tendency to define myself in terms of my appearance'. Most of the time I think it's crap. The weird thing is, sometimes he's actually got me believing it.
Harvey Dent's Journal, January 18
Gilda came again, and sat with me, and talked. She's been fully recovered for a while now, and seems to be feeling fine, lots of smiling and laughing, all to cheer me up, I know.
I still can't forget what I did to her, how I hurt her and turned my back on her, the sheer hell I put her through. And then I almost killed her. How she can forgive me, I have no idea. If it had been me, I don't think I could have done it, but Gilda says she understands what I was going through and why it happened.
I wish I did.
That's another thing I've been talking to Dr. Myers about lately, in therapy. My guilt. He says I have to face it, and understand it, learn to live with it, and go on from there. I know he's trying to help, but - how can he understand? I try to find excuses for myself. But I don't know if I can.
Harvey Dent's Journal, February 12
Heard the news a few days ago. The doctors didn't tell me for a while, probably didn't want to upset my 'delicate mental balance'. What happened was terrible for all of us, but worst of all for Bruce. I wish I could be there to help him, the way he's done so much to help me. Maybe if I ever get out of here, I'll find some way.
Harvey Dent's Journal, March 7
I talked to Gilda again, about getting married, or not. This is the second time I've given her the chance to back out gracefully, and she's refused. I'm just not sure whether it's because she really wants me, or just feels sorry for me.
I mean, look at it logically. I'm ugly now. Not just homely or not good-looking, but scarred. Damaged. Deformed. Okay, that's just the surface. But there's more; I'm a criminal now - an ex-criminal - I don't have money, don't have the reputation as a lawyer that it took me so long to build. Most people would think she's crazy to want to marry me, and tie herself down to me and my problems for the rest of my life. I have nothing to offer her.
Dr. Myers thinks I'm being too hard on myself - as if that's possible - or that's what he says. Of course, he's in the business of making people feel better - but he seems to mean it. He says I'm my own worst critic; I'm the only one who can't forgive what I did. He's right about that, I'm amazed at how understanding most of my victims have been. Even Henry Logan decided not to press charges. So did Max Waxman, although I suspect he was given some financial incentives, probably by Bruce.
Myers isn't surprised about that. He says I'd be able to forgive someone else who did the same things for the same reasons. I thought about that one. Maybe. I don't know anymore.
Harvey Dent's Journal, April 20
The second operation was done a few weeks ago, and it went well, they tell me. The doctors are hopeful that I won't need any more. They say therapy is going well, too. I don't know, I used to think it's just a lot of talk, but maybe I'm getting used to it.
Supposedly it was a breakthrough when I finally told Dr. Myers about the voice. Frankly I was afraid to, thought they'd just decide I'm crazier than they thought. But he asked all kinds of questions, and asked if I'd heard it again since Gilda was shot. I haven't. I wonder about that sometimes, where it came from, and where it went. Most of all, if it's ever coming back. Myers said it was a 'stress-related phenomenon', and that it seems to have resolved itself. He said the voice was expressing my anger at what happened to me, that it was in a way another side of me, sort of a multiple personality. Then, when I didn't need it or want it anymore, it disappeared.
All that anger and violence - it's hard to accept that it was a part of me. I asked Myers if everyone is like that, if everyone has a dark side that's just waiting for the right time to appear. If everyone is capable of going off the deep end like I did.
He got really quiet and thoughtful, and said he didn't know, no one does, but that anger and fear are the most primitive emotions, coming from the most primitive part of our brains. The reptile brain, he called it. We like to think we're above all that, being higher than animals, but the truth is we're just as much animals as anything else. We can't escape that part of ourselves, and we shouldn't; we need it to survive.
I got to see a side of myself that no one should ever have to face. I only hope it never shows itself again.
Harvey Dent's Journal, May 29
I've spent a lot of time looking in the mirror lately. No, not hearing the voice again, just trying to get used to myself the way I am now. Not all that easy so far, my skin hasn't completely healed from the latest operation, and I'm still in bandages and a pressure mask most of the time. But I take them off sometimes, long enough to get an idea. It's not pretty, but - it doesn't shock me anymore.
Beauty. Appearance. Been doing a lot of thinking about that lately too. I heard somewhere that physical appearance is the first thing we love about someone, and the last thing. The first because when you meet someone, the way they look is all you have to go by. You may assume you know what they're like underneath, but you only find out the truth over time. That's the part you really fall in love with, the things that don't show. And then the last - when you're in love, the person you love is beautiful in your eyes, no matter what they may look like to other people.
I've started to think that when Gilda looks at me, she honestly doesn't see the scars, the bandages, the ugliness. Or maybe it just doesn't matter, and I guess that's just about the same thing. Hard as it is to believe, she still loves me.
Another thing I've wondered about - if it had been her, if she had been disfigured in some way, would I have been able to go on loving her? If it happened now - I know for a fact I would never let her go, no matter what. But before the vitriol - there were so many things I saw differently then. I don't know. This whole thing has changed me, and in some ways it's an improvement.
Harvey Dent's Journal, June 15
Dr. Myers and the other doctors are impressed with my progress, both physical and mental. They've started to talk about the day when I'll leave here, and start my life over. I don't know, the thought kind of scares me. It's safe here, and familiar. Never thought it could happen, but even the idea of not having Myers to talk to every day bothers me. And - I know I'm hiding from reality, but... what am I going to do on the outside?
Gilda will help. I'm sure so will Bruce, in spite of his own troubles. In the end, it's all up to me to start over, to face the challenges. I'll have to make some decisions, fight disbarment if I want to practice law again, worry about money. It's a lot to think about.
Harvey Dent's Journal, July 9
The bandages are off now. My new skin - well, it's not my old face, but it's better. Much better, and they say it'll improve after more time to heal. I'll never be good-looking again, never really look normal again, but at least I feel like I can walk down the street without wondering if everyone is staring at me. When I finally let Gilda see, she started to cry. I almost did too.
Harvey Dent's Journal, August 18
It's official now. If everything continues to go smoothly, I'll be out of here in another month. Free, but with the responsibility of beginning a new and better life. Others have done what they could for me, more than I could possibly have expected, so much that I can't even begin to repay it. Every time I look at my face in the mirror, I'll know how much I have to be grateful for.
But the biggest changes don't show on the outside. I guess I've learned to accept things the way they are. It's kind of like my face; life may not be perfect, and it may not be beautiful, but it's my life, and with some help I'll make the best of it that I can.
Here, today, on the lawn outside the main residence building at Arkham, in the sun and the fresh air, Gilda sitting with me, I know I've been given a second chance. I can see her look up at me now, smiling.
"Still keeping that journal?" she asks.
"Guess I've gotten in the habit."
"When are you going to let me read it?"
I blink at her. "I don't know. There's a lot of personal stuff in here."
"Too personal for your future wife?"
I think about it for a few seconds, wondering how she'd react to the earlier entries, the ones that were angry, or resentful, or hopeless, the ones when I doubted her. "Some of it - isn't very pretty."
"It's you, Harvey. It doesn't need to be pretty."
I nod, suddenly sure, just stopping long enough to write these last lines before I hand it over to her. She waits, leaning her head back against the chair and watching with a smile, sunlight glinting on her hair.
All in all, I guess I'm a pretty lucky guy.