Any other day [rp thread for knowthenbreak]
He left the apartment very early that morning, slipping out in the darkness, blending as he liked to do these days, with the shadows.
It was too soon. He shouldn't have been there at the cemetery, on a day when anyone could've been checking for him (while he doubted Jim Gordon would, there was always the Bat). The wounds were still fresh and he knew as he walked across the fresh-cut grass that this was a bad idea. That it would unleash his other side, that bad things could and would happen. But he needed to do it. Had to.
It was her birthday. She should be here with him. Or...with Wayne. With whoever she chose, as long as she was alive. He could've lived with her choosing Wayne. This...he couldn't live with. It ate at him daily, changed him from the inside out like a rapidly spreading virus.
He approached the headstone with caution. He swallowed, then took a small jewelry box out of his pocket and placed it on top. He didn't think about the possibility of someone stealing it or of the fact that she'd never wear it. He was so caught up in his emotions, in being there with her, if only for a moment, in his mind, that he didn't see the figure lurking in the shadows, observing him.
Ten minutes later, as the sun began to rise, Harvey Dent left Rachel Dawes' grave. Behind a tree, the Batman noted the time of the former DA's departure.
* * * * *
By the time Dent returned to the apartment building that night, two men were dead. He had blood on the cuff of his suit and his hair was sticky with sweat. He barged into the apartment, sneering. Two-Face was home.
It was too soon. He shouldn't have been there at the cemetery, on a day when anyone could've been checking for him (while he doubted Jim Gordon would, there was always the Bat). The wounds were still fresh and he knew as he walked across the fresh-cut grass that this was a bad idea. That it would unleash his other side, that bad things could and would happen. But he needed to do it. Had to.
It was her birthday. She should be here with him. Or...with Wayne. With whoever she chose, as long as she was alive. He could've lived with her choosing Wayne. This...he couldn't live with. It ate at him daily, changed him from the inside out like a rapidly spreading virus.
He approached the headstone with caution. He swallowed, then took a small jewelry box out of his pocket and placed it on top. He didn't think about the possibility of someone stealing it or of the fact that she'd never wear it. He was so caught up in his emotions, in being there with her, if only for a moment, in his mind, that he didn't see the figure lurking in the shadows, observing him.
Ten minutes later, as the sun began to rise, Harvey Dent left Rachel Dawes' grave. Behind a tree, the Batman noted the time of the former DA's departure.
* * * * *
By the time Dent returned to the apartment building that night, two men were dead. He had blood on the cuff of his suit and his hair was sticky with sweat. He barged into the apartment, sneering. Two-Face was home.