It’s been a week since Harvey’s face and mind have been destroyed by Sal Maroni. The doctors say he may survive, say he’s come this far and maybe he’ll be better soon, but that his face in unrepairable without a chunk of the money he’s built through his life. That’s the objective side of the coin, anyways. Lately, he’s been much weirder, and it’s showing that even if he does get surgery, it’s unlikely it’d fix the real problem.

Whats been going on with his mind.

Despite being a man always firm on his views with justice, Harvey used to be gentle, he used to use that soft voice to calm people down, and now he makes a disgusted face whenever anyone tries it with him. He’s been different.

Harvey tried, though, and at least he could say that. Whenever that other mind tried to take over, maybe it was difficult to fight it, maybe it was too convincing and he wanted to listen, but he couldn’t when his partner was around. Whatever was arising from within him, Two-Face, Harvey was fine with it hurting anyone but his lover.

But it happened anyway. He tried going back home, and for a little bit, it was peaceful, even with his new disfigurement. For a little bit, he felt okay again. Like he just woke up from a bad dream, but all of a sudden it was like he’d woken up into a worse one. Because when he opened his eyes, Harvey was in front of his lover, face scrunched up in anger, without one clue of what had happened. But he could guess from the horrified look on his partner’s face.

He slept on the couch that night. Not because he was told to, but because he felt unworthy of the bed. Then he repeated that for the next couple of nights until he couldn’t deal with it anymore.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked—Harvey, and it was clear it was him because of the voice that Two-Face couldn’t mimic it so well. "I get things are difficult and all, with… with the condition, but I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’d rather die than hurt you," he said softly. The first soft thing he’s said in a while.