On the Brink [a ficlet/ open RP thread]
Everywhere around him, the City of Gotham was falling apart. As he stood on the rooftop of the District Attorney’s office, looking out at the expanse of skyscrapers and lights, Harvey Dent wondered how much longer he’d be able to keep it together.
It was easy to go on television, smile for the camera and offer promises. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe himself -oh, he believed in Harvey Dent.
Some days, he just wasn’t sure what Harvey Dent believed.
He lifted the glass of scotch to his lips and took a drink. The bitter taste permeated his senses for a moment. A few more gulps of this and the edge would be worn off-the edge he’d been stoking with coffee, sleep deprivation and a generally unhealthily obsessed work ethic. The world around him would go slowly out of focus and for once he could rest. For once, a few hours of sleep would come, unhindered, without the weight of the world interfering.
Oh, but he needed the edge. With the edge there, he knew he was still alive, he knew that Gotham hadn’t burned down yet, he knew…what?
That he was fighting a losing battle? Was he? Would he and Gordon catch the Joker? Or would they just die trying? Or watch their loved ones die at the expense of this madman? He took a deep breath, caught between the leftover caffeine running through his system and the scotch that had begun to pull him down.
Up, down, up, down - two extremes with him and there never seemed to be any middle ground.
It seemed like he hadn’t talked with Rachel in awhile - that is, really, truly talked with her, other than a few worried or reassuring words between press conferences. It was easy to sound confident, caring. He wanted to be those things. If only it were as simple as that, as simple as saying you wanted something and getting it, making it real by wishing. Rachel-really did believe in him, probably more than he believed in himself.
He wasn’t sure how they’d gone from-casual to dating to-the night of the gala. It happened so fast and as he stared out at the night sky, he wondered if it hadn’t all been an illusion. Was it love or-a heady fascination, the result of being thrust into the spotlight at rocket speed? She was his Girl Friday-she adored him and he…God, he was supposed to feel that way back, wasn’t he? That’s how it went, and so that’s-for his adoring public, her included--that’s what he did.
Harvey told himself that he loved her because she was good, pure almost - more than he could ever be. It was almost enough to convince himself. And then there was the chilling thought that came into his head at least several times a day.
Someday-maybe not today, maybe not with this villain-someone was going to use her against him, weren’t they? It-it was only a matter of time. He told himself he wouldn’t let that happen. He told himself and the people of Gotham a lot of things, but at the end of the day, really, he was only a man. His hand holding the glass of scotch shook just slightly at the thoughts going through his head.
Even if he could save Gotham…who would save him?
It was easy to go on television, smile for the camera and offer promises. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe himself -oh, he believed in Harvey Dent.
Some days, he just wasn’t sure what Harvey Dent believed.
He lifted the glass of scotch to his lips and took a drink. The bitter taste permeated his senses for a moment. A few more gulps of this and the edge would be worn off-the edge he’d been stoking with coffee, sleep deprivation and a generally unhealthily obsessed work ethic. The world around him would go slowly out of focus and for once he could rest. For once, a few hours of sleep would come, unhindered, without the weight of the world interfering.
Oh, but he needed the edge. With the edge there, he knew he was still alive, he knew that Gotham hadn’t burned down yet, he knew…what?
That he was fighting a losing battle? Was he? Would he and Gordon catch the Joker? Or would they just die trying? Or watch their loved ones die at the expense of this madman? He took a deep breath, caught between the leftover caffeine running through his system and the scotch that had begun to pull him down.
Up, down, up, down - two extremes with him and there never seemed to be any middle ground.
It seemed like he hadn’t talked with Rachel in awhile - that is, really, truly talked with her, other than a few worried or reassuring words between press conferences. It was easy to sound confident, caring. He wanted to be those things. If only it were as simple as that, as simple as saying you wanted something and getting it, making it real by wishing. Rachel-really did believe in him, probably more than he believed in himself.
He wasn’t sure how they’d gone from-casual to dating to-the night of the gala. It happened so fast and as he stared out at the night sky, he wondered if it hadn’t all been an illusion. Was it love or-a heady fascination, the result of being thrust into the spotlight at rocket speed? She was his Girl Friday-she adored him and he…God, he was supposed to feel that way back, wasn’t he? That’s how it went, and so that’s-for his adoring public, her included--that’s what he did.
Harvey told himself that he loved her because she was good, pure almost - more than he could ever be. It was almost enough to convince himself. And then there was the chilling thought that came into his head at least several times a day.
Someday-maybe not today, maybe not with this villain-someone was going to use her against him, weren’t they? It-it was only a matter of time. He told himself he wouldn’t let that happen. He told himself and the people of Gotham a lot of things, but at the end of the day, really, he was only a man. His hand holding the glass of scotch shook just slightly at the thoughts going through his head.
Even if he could save Gotham…who would save him?