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250 52nd Street. That address is burned into Harvey's mind as the place where she died. Where Batman refused to show up and stop his world from crumbling down.
However, that's not what he's seeing in the video. He stops it, rewinds. Pauses it just after Batman has Joker up against the wall, lets it play, and yep.
I want to play a little game. Tonight, you're going to have to choose.
He's at...250 52nd Street, and she's at...Avenue X on Cicero.
He did go to save her.
His first thought was that he must have misheard, but no, the audio is quite clear, even if the video itself is not. The Joker lied. He was tricked.
He feels the truth breaking over him like dawn over a new day on the Earth's surface.
---
Bruce receives a call while he's in one of Wayne Tower's offices, right after a board meeting.
He turns his cell over, inspects the little screen. There's a number he hasn't seen in a while.
"This is Bruce Wayne."
"Bruce, it's Harvey."
He stops in his tracks. He wonders if this is a joke, but he wants so much for it to be real.
His heart rate picks up, and his eyes widen.
"Harvey! Haven't heard your voice in a long time."
"Bruce, I need your help with something. And I think maybe you're the only one that can help."
"I'll text you an address. I'll meet with you there at noon."
"Thank you, but there's something else I have to tell you. I don't look the same..."
---
The address Bruce gives him is for one of his offices on the other side of town. It's still in downtown Gotham, but the area isn't as popular as some of the real estate around Wayne Tower.
The building has four stories, and is sandwiched in between a bank and another building with various offices. It has no markings of any kind. As he arrives at the building, he's almost grateful for the discretion, and he remembers a time when that wouldn't have been the case.
The building has a small café in the lobby, which appears to be closed for the day. Bruce has a table by the window, at which he is waiting patiently. His eyes snap over to Harvey as he enters, and they follow Harvey all the way to his seat.
He doesn't usually feel self-conscious about his face, but sitting in front of Bruce Wayne, who has probably been on the cover of a several magazines, he suddenly wishes he had his old face back.
He sits down, and Bruce doesn't stop staring.
"I think it's an improvement, actually," he says, smiling, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He can feel it. He should have tried harder to be convincing.
Bruce sits back in his chair, and he smiles, just faintly, not with his lips, but mostly with his eyes.
"You look good to me."
Okay, okay, that's...nice. That's good. Bruce doesn't want to throw him out for being a freak.
He wants to ask for help finding Batman, but so much between them has changed since then, and Bruce probably wants an explanation. Should he believe Bruce will help him with no questions asked? And besides, he probably deserves to know about—
"Rachel. Rachel...is dead."
The words come out of him without any conscious volition. He sets his elbows on the table, then rests his head in his hands, covers his eyes as if he doesn't want to see the truth, or if covering his eyes and hiding in the darkness will make the truth go away. He doesn't want to see this truth. But it's a reality that he can't escape, and it's his reality. It's all just a never-ending nightmare.
He hears the sound of a chair scoot and then there's warmth on his back, the smell of faint cologne. Bruce is embracing him, holding him tight to his chest. The weight of his arm is comforting. Like someone he could just fall into.
Harvey leans into Bruce, and he stays there for a long time, letting his tears soak into the cotton on his chest. Something about the embrace feels familiar, although he can't place it. Whatever it is is buried deep in his mind.
Eventually, Bruce pulls away. He straightens up, stiffens, then removes his chair back to its original position. Harvey doesn't remember the air ever feeling this cold.
Bruce's voice is even and collected when he speaks.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't help you."
And he should have laid his case out immediately, not started crying about Rachel—
"You don't even know what I want yet—"
"No, I don't, but whatever it is, I can't help you—"
"Is it because I don't look the same? I'm not Gotham's District Attorney anymore, so there's nothing I can do for you in return? You're just like the rest of them! All you care about is making money, about gaining power—"
He remembers when Bruce held a fundraiser for him after knowing him for one evening. Gave him his trust, extended all of his goodwill. Where is that Bruce, the one who would have done anything for him, the one Rachel trusted?
"It's because I loved Rachel, too. And she loved me."
He can see the red rims of Bruce's eyes, can see his hand shake where it grips the handle of his mug. Just a tremble, barely there, but still present nonetheless.
And then it's all pouring out, all of it—the night of the abduction, how he had just wanted to go on a date with Rachel, but then they were both taken to a warehouse, well, he was in a warehouse, he thinks Rachel was in one, too, but he doesn't really know, he could only hear her voice through a phone, she was at 250 52nd Street although she actually wasn't, he was at Avenue X on Cicero and then she had gone up in flames just like their future, just like his hopes for Gotham City, and the pain he felt on his face was just a reflection of that, a reflection of that all burning away, and he used to blame Batman, but now he doesn't anymore, he doesn't, and the least he can do is find him and ask why he let him blame him for all this time, why he didn't tell him that he tried to go after Rachel but failed, like they both failed.
"She was going to marry me, you know. She said 'yes,' in her last moments."
Bruce just stares at him. Suddenly he hates being here, left waiting for a response. Then he gets up.
"I can't help you." He walks toward the door. "If you really want to find Batman, ask him. He knows just what to do."
Then the rage boils inside him, bubbling and white-hot. "Are you ever going to move beyond petty jealousy?"
But Bruce is already gone, headed out the revolving door to the car. Through the glass window, he watches Bruce get in, close the door, watches his car drive off.
He knows who Bruce means, but he doesn't want to ask him. Doesn't want to go. He was liking the feeling of being Harvey, just for a little while.
---
Two-Face does know how to find him. He knows exactly how to find him. Maybe he'll rob a convenience store. Maybe he'll go after the mayor's daughter. Maybe he'll help Joker with his next plan just because it's convenient and it's something to do.
But he doesn't do any of those things.
Maybe he should just call the Batman on his cell phone. Harvey's stupid if he doesn't think he knows what Bruce's mouth looks like, both in and out of costume.
Instead, he stops the guy that robs the convenience store. He doesn't know what he'll do if the criminal decides to not listen after he threatens him with his gun, and he hopes he won't have to find out. Maybe he'll shoot him in the kneecap. Not great, but it's better than killing him, right? For the first time, he doesn't ask the coin.
And another time, he cuts down a henchman that Bruce has left dangling from a building. The police get involved with that one, but by the time they show up, Two-Face is already out of sight.
He continues in this vein, and one day, the newspapers get ahold of it, even managing to have obtained a picture of the left side of his face.
A New Alternative to Batman?
Not front-page, but still it's available for anyone looking to find it. Two-Face reads the rest of the article with his morning coffee.
Maybe, one day, the Batman will want to find him. And when he does, Harvey will let him know that he still believes.