The other side of the coin...
It's not often Harvey Dent has been on this end of things.
With no family left to speak of, and barely anyone he can call a friend, this seemed the best way to spend this holiday. With someone who loves him.
Her eyes are wide as they look him over, as they haven't seen his new face. It's not really either of his old faces, scarred or unscarred, or even the face he had before this all happened.
"My Harvey..." she mutters. "You're my Harvey."
He just smiles softly to her. "Let me cut your turkey for you, Gilda."
In the cafeteria of the institution, the guards are watching them like hawks. Only plastic silverware. She's on enough medication to keep her calm, but there are scars from where she's clawed at her own face... and it's an eerie, horrible feeling that Harvey gets every time he looks at them.
Her food is cut into small parts, safe and chewable, before he works on his own meal.
"That's all I wanted... that's all I wanted. I wanted my Harvey. I wanted you to be my Harvey. I believe in Harvey Dent. I believe in Harvey Dent, and now Harvey Dent's come back. We can start our family now. Everything's all right now. Everything is perfect."
He reaches over, dabbing a bit of saliva from her mouth with a napkin. Part of him wishes he could believe her. But he's spent so much time drugged and docile, and so much time as a lawyer that he understands not only what he's seeing, but also what he's NOT seeing in her. Never any remorse for those she killed. Never any sense of comprehending exactly what it is she did, and why she shouldn't have done it.
She's still got that blank look in her eyes that's just shy of being crazed.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Harvey," she says, in her brightest smile - the one he fell in love with. She still has that.
He has to blink back tears in the one eye that's still capable of making them.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Gilda."
With no family left to speak of, and barely anyone he can call a friend, this seemed the best way to spend this holiday. With someone who loves him.
Her eyes are wide as they look him over, as they haven't seen his new face. It's not really either of his old faces, scarred or unscarred, or even the face he had before this all happened.
"My Harvey..." she mutters. "You're my Harvey."
He just smiles softly to her. "Let me cut your turkey for you, Gilda."
In the cafeteria of the institution, the guards are watching them like hawks. Only plastic silverware. She's on enough medication to keep her calm, but there are scars from where she's clawed at her own face... and it's an eerie, horrible feeling that Harvey gets every time he looks at them.
Her food is cut into small parts, safe and chewable, before he works on his own meal.
"That's all I wanted... that's all I wanted. I wanted my Harvey. I wanted you to be my Harvey. I believe in Harvey Dent. I believe in Harvey Dent, and now Harvey Dent's come back. We can start our family now. Everything's all right now. Everything is perfect."
He reaches over, dabbing a bit of saliva from her mouth with a napkin. Part of him wishes he could believe her. But he's spent so much time drugged and docile, and so much time as a lawyer that he understands not only what he's seeing, but also what he's NOT seeing in her. Never any remorse for those she killed. Never any sense of comprehending exactly what it is she did, and why she shouldn't have done it.
She's still got that blank look in her eyes that's just shy of being crazed.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Harvey," she says, in her brightest smile - the one he fell in love with. She still has that.
He has to blink back tears in the one eye that's still capable of making them.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Gilda."