Authors Notes: This is a short story I wrote, mostly based on Harvey Dents character in The Long Halloween, with a little bit of animated series thrown in. Harvey Dent ponders his reformation and reminisces about the past.

I Believe in Harvey Dent

Sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night, he still thought he was in his cell in Arkham Asylum, for a split, terrifying second. Only when he realized his arms were free, that he wasn't trapped in a straightjacket, and he recognized the familiar surroundings of the penthouse bedroom did it dawn to him.

Arkham was a memory now, a bad, painful memory he had tried to push as far back into his mind as he could, but the madhouse never quite left you. Nights like this he could swear he could still feel the rank moldy smell of the ancient stone walls, with the full moon shining in through his cell window, far out of reach up on the wall, illuminating his misery, as the screams of the madmen echoed through the terrifying halls of the house.

The Other was quiet now. He didn't know how to explain the absence of his other self, but the voice that had been with him since childhood, the angry, raging voice of the Other was no longer plaguing him, trying to push past his defences and take control. One day, he was simply… gone.

Pulling the all too warm blankets off himself, Harvey Dent, former District Attorney of Gotham City, now reformed criminal, left his bed, instead standing in front of the large panoramic window which gave him a view of the sleeping metropolis, the lights and sounds of the city filling his senses. He could see his own reflection in the glass.

Only Harvey Dent looked back at him.

His hand reaching for his face, touching the unscarred flesh, the reconstructed handsome visage of a man in his early 30's. Even his hair had grown back. A messy, brown mane of hair now crowned his head, like it had so long ago, before the fateful trial.

He had gone through the events so many times in his mind, atleast when Two-Face had left him in control. How he and Gordon had been approached by a mobster wishing to witness against the powerful Carmino Falcone. He thought it was too good to be true.

Of course, it was.

The last thing he remembered was the mobster going into a coughing fit, and reached for some kind of bottle, then, he remembered only the pain. The searing, burning, blinding pain eating through his flesh and shattering his mind, as the howling Other broke through all the walls he had so carefully built around him, letting the monstrous, vengeful creature known to all as Two-Face into the world.

Wincing at the painful memory, even now it made him shudder. He still wasn't used to look into a mirror and not having Two-Face stare back at him. Opening the window, letting the cool night air in, flowing across his bare chest, easing the feverish heat of his skin, sweaty from yet another blurry nightmare, sighing at the pleasant feeling.

Of course he remembered the following years vividly, no matter how much he wished they would just go away. Two-Face quickly became one of Gothams many demons, plaguing the torn city with his special brand of dual madness for years. Of course, Batman had fought him every step of the way.

He smiled grimly at a sudden memory. He and Gordon had just met with the dark knight during their campaign against Falcone, and the commissioner had confided in him that he had once thought that the attorney was Batman. Of course, that was when Dent had little tolerance for vigilantes. Things tend to change.

He still wasn't sure why Batman had put his neck out for him as much as he had. No matter how many times Two-Face tried to kill him, Batman had pleaded with Harvey to fight against his other self, to return to those who loved him and called him friend. Like Gordon, or Bruce Wayne, or…

Or Gilda.

Dear sweet, beautiful Gilda. How he missed her now. How he had always missed her. He had left her when he had become Two-Face, believing she would never love him now. But she had returned to him, begged him to come back to her, to settle down and form a family like they always talked about. But he couldn't. He had left her in tears, leaving to battle the man he had known as friend once, now an enemy. And Batman defeated him, again.

And so it had been for years, thrown in Arkham, only to escape again and again, always deciding with the flip of a coin what horrors to perform next. So many deaths on his hands now, innocents and criminals alike. He tried to make himself believe it had only been Two-Face pulling the trigger, but somewhere inside him he knew, he had done horrible things. He was guilty. Carmine Falcone had died by his hands in revenge for what he had done, but it didn't change the fact that he was now a monster, like those he had tried to put away.

Then, one day, Two-Face vanished.

Perhaps it had been a result of the constant therapy, perhaps some psychological glitch, or healing, or perhaps he had finally fought back against the Other, vanquishing him. Perhaps for good. He truly hoped that was the case.

The night air making him shiver now, he tried to tell himself the memories had nothing to do with it, making him close the window and walk back to his bed, though not quite tired enough to go to sleep again, simply sitting on the edge, deep in thought.

His face had been restored, and after much discussion, he had been released back into the world, on probation. Though he could never return to his old life as Harvey Dent, District Attorney, he hoped atleast to become Harvey Dent, redeemed.

He had done things he could never make up for, things said that could never be unsaid, but he swore he would spend the rest of his life trying to do so. And maybe, in time, the memory of Two-Face would fade. And perhaps he would find peace again.

As he laid back down in his bed, he didn't see the small object on his nightstand.

Glittering in the moonlight, a coin laid on the flat surface, scarred side up.

-HM