Not even the sudden switch in scenery or the sound of an overly enthused voice on the intercom could cause Harvey to startle as he came to. Instead, he was filled with a numbness, the sort of creeping sensation that he remembered most clearly from when he'd been in that hospital bed at Gotham General. It had happened all over again. This time didn't compare at all to the night with Rachel, but he'd once again had to stand by helplessly while --
The worst part was that there was no one to blame, not really. Except for Aguilar. Harvey wanted to gather up all of his rage, all of that darkness brewing in him, and confront Peter, yell at him for what he'd done and shake him. But that wasn't right, because the kid hadn't had a choice and Harvey was going to hazard a guess that he was even more traumatized than the rest of them.
No, it was Aguilar who really should suffer for this, and suddenly Harvey knew that even if he found a way out of this place, back to Gotham, he couldn't go. Not until he'd tracked the general down and put a bullet between his skull, coin toss willing.
It was as if he was back to his first day here, where he didn't even want to talk to anyone, let alone get to know them. He'd slipped too much with Jones, gotten too friendly, and now he'd paid for it just like he had with Rachel. He was really starting to wonder if he was cursed at this point, though the thought was almost too melodramatic even for him.
If he believed in God, he would have said that the guy didn't like him, but as it was, he just had terrible luck.
In any case, he'd learned his lesson. It was getting himself to face the day now that he'd learned it that was proving to be the hard part. Harvey was still laying prone in his bed when the door opened and a soldier marched in. He was soon on the receiving end of a glare.
Harvey wanted to be difficult, wanted to yell in the man's face and throw a tantrum because he deserved to by now. But he knew that would only end in humiliation, and so after murdering the man with his own glare, he got out of bed and finished getting dressed. He was struck once again by how ridiculous he had to look with half his face bandaged and his head covered with the beret.
Not bothering with the bulletin (he didn't need to check on the others), Harvey collected his bowl of food and realized that he'd never wanted to eat it less than he did now. He sat with it in the corner and fought off the urge to strangle someone. Eventually he had to get out his coin and started flipping it around in his hand.
no subject
The worst part was that there was no one to blame, not really. Except for Aguilar. Harvey wanted to gather up all of his rage, all of that darkness brewing in him, and confront Peter, yell at him for what he'd done and shake him. But that wasn't right, because the kid hadn't had a choice and Harvey was going to hazard a guess that he was even more traumatized than the rest of them.
No, it was Aguilar who really should suffer for this, and suddenly Harvey knew that even if he found a way out of this place, back to Gotham, he couldn't go. Not until he'd tracked the general down and put a bullet between his skull, coin toss willing.
It was as if he was back to his first day here, where he didn't even want to talk to anyone, let alone get to know them. He'd slipped too much with Jones, gotten too friendly, and now he'd paid for it just like he had with Rachel. He was really starting to wonder if he was cursed at this point, though the thought was almost too melodramatic even for him.
If he believed in God, he would have said that the guy didn't like him, but as it was, he just had terrible luck.
In any case, he'd learned his lesson. It was getting himself to face the day now that he'd learned it that was proving to be the hard part. Harvey was still laying prone in his bed when the door opened and a soldier marched in. He was soon on the receiving end of a glare.
Harvey wanted to be difficult, wanted to yell in the man's face and throw a tantrum because he deserved to by now. But he knew that would only end in humiliation, and so after murdering the man with his own glare, he got out of bed and finished getting dressed. He was struck once again by how ridiculous he had to look with half his face bandaged and his head covered with the beret.
Not bothering with the bulletin (he didn't need to check on the others), Harvey collected his bowl of food and realized that he'd never wanted to eat it less than he did now. He sat with it in the corner and fought off the urge to strangle someone. Eventually he had to get out his coin and started flipping it around in his hand.
[Free!]