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There is a kid underneath the wooden table, one frozen to his spot as their gazes meet. In his mind’s eye, Harvey sees himself as a child. Unconsciously, he bends down slightly and offers his hand out to Todd’s little girl.
The girl’s eyes darted from his hand to him.
He nods.
The girl makes to take it before she sprints out of the flat, not once looking back.
“Boss?” asks one of his men.
Harvey shook his head. “We’ve gotten what we were here for.” The dirty rat, Todd, was dead and that was enough.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever cross paths with the girl again. That is until he does.
It’s a cold night when he stumbles upon the sound of a quiet laugh. Peeking into the alleyway, Harvey almost drops his cigar in shock.
The kid had balls of steel. Lifting Batman’s tires?
Silently, he crept over to take a closer look. He couldn’t help the chuckle when he noticed that the car was already missing two wheels. The third was in the midst of being taken too. “Aren’t you scared?” he asks out loud.
“Find your own car, this one’s mine,” snarled the girl as she turned around, tire iron ready to swing. It lowers at the sight of him. “What do you want?” She eyes him warily, not that Harvey could blame her.
“Just curious, I was wondering who was so brave to steal the Bat’s tires. He won’t like it, you know.”
The young girl jutted her chin out in defiance. “Then he shouldn’t have parked it here. It’s not my fault he has the street smarts of a toddler.”
He can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The kid had spunk. “I suppose you’re right. Well, then carry on.”
“Carry on?” she echoed incredulously.
Harvey nodded. “Better hurry, he’ll return soon.”
As the girl turned to remove the last tire, Harvey took a glance around and found it empty. He felt for the coin in his coin and pulled it out. He inspected it for a moment before he tossed it. Unmarked. How interesting. He cleared his throat pointedly, catching their attention. “Well, if you’re done. I have an offer for you.”
“What kind of offer?” Wariness filled her expression and she seemed ready to run. Her eyebrows rose as he said his piece.
“Well, what will it be, kid?” Harvey offers his hand out. “I won’t offer something like this again.”
Warily, she took his hand. “Okay. And my name’s not kid, it’s Medea.”
“Alright, Medea.”
It’s strange. Living with Two-Face is strangely nicer than with Willis.
Still a little weird though, considering she was living with one of Gotham’s infamous rogues.
Like that coin. Medea has seen far too many people get shot over the outcome. Something that she’s happy to say she hasn’t experienced yet.
For the most part, her time here is comfortable. She has a bedroom the size of the living room of her old place. And she gets to wander around the place without many restrictions.
That, and the books! Two-Face had a library, and Medea fell in love at first glance.
She’s so comfortable that Medea berates herself when she stupidly asks for a dog.
Two-Face stares at her, equally stupefied at the request.
To nobody’s surprise, the coin is consulted.
They flip it and Medea wonders if this is how she goes – for asking for a dog. But it lands on heads and a great dane becomes the newest occupant at home.
Two-Face and his men joke that lady luck must have blessed her, for no matter how the coin falls, she always comes out unscathed.
There is a slight problem that Medea encounters a little over two weeks after her arrival. How on earth does she refer to Two-Face?
‘Boss’ is what his underlings call him. Two-Face seemed more like a mask than a name. So what was left?
For now, she’d been lucky enough that she hadn’t needed to refer to the man by name. But her luck would eventually run out. And Two-Face had shot people for much less.
“Medea?”
She startled at her name, and hurriedly looked up from her book. “Huh?” Her gaze landed on the owner of the voice, and she forced himself to remain calm. “Yes?”
Two-Face seemed to be waiting for something – it was pensive and Medea didn’t know or want to know what to make of it.
Scrambling, she tacks on a hasty “Sir?” Sir was neutral, right?
The unscarred half of his face showed a flicker of surprise before the man simply waved his hand and dismissed her. “Nevermind.”
Considering she hadn’t been shot, Medea counted that as approval. Soon that became her default way to address the man.
Well, it had been until the man sighed at the address. From his pocket, Two-Face pulled out a coin and flipped it–
Oh frick, this was going to be it. She was gonna get murdered.
Medea’s fear only shot up to dangerous levels when it landed on the scarred side. She watched the man intently, ready to run at the slightest hint that he’d grab his pistol.
“Scarred side,” mused the man. “The coin has decided for us. Don’t call me sir, anymore.”
What? As much as Medea wanted to cry in relief that she hadn’t been sentenced to death, there were more important things at hand. “Then what should I call you, s–” At Two-Face’s pointed look, she quickly corrected herself, “–señor?”
A look of panic appears on the man’s face as if he hadn’t considered that either.
They stood there in an awkward silence before the man coughed awkwardly. “I suppose Harvey is fine. He prefers Harv though.”
“Okay,” says Medea slowly. She tries out the name, it feels strange to refer to him like that even if it fits better than Two-Face. “Harvey.”
There’s a twitch upwards on the scarred side of the man’s face. “Are you really sure about that?”
Okay, so not Harvey then. “Harv?”
Medea counts it as a hopeful win when the man laughs.
He shook his head with amusement. “You were right the first time. Also, nice loophole, kid.”
Harvey is very sentimental, with his reasons for wanting to take Medea in.
Harv thought he was an emotional sap. Though he doesn’t disagree with taking Medea under their wing. Harv had been sold the moment he’d seen the kid lift the wheels on the Batmobile. Impressive.
Still, the kid was interesting alright. He has never seen a kid so happy to attend school. Were kids supposed to cry at the news?
Harvey supposed it was a better option than to have the kid crying that he didn’t want to go. Like any kid would be uneducated under his watch.
Enrolling the kid in Gotham Academy would have been his first pick, had he still been Harvey Dent, an up-and-coming attorney. But alas, things were not quite as easy. Instead, they found her the next best, and off Medea went.
Medea went and thrived. She comes back grinning and chattering about her days. “You’ll never guess what we learned today at school!”
“Oh?” He put down his documents as he gestured for his ward to sit and tell him how their day had gone.
That girl of theirs was a charmer and she had somehow charmed most if not all of his lieutenants. Grudgingly, Harv admits that Medea had charmed them too.
Still, they’re proud of Medea’s achievements. Regardless of how legal they are. From getting first place in that writing contest or if it’s about her winning a fight at school.
They’ve grown used to Medea’s presence. Besides, the kid was a lucky charm of sorts. On the heists that she had tagged along, somehow they run a little smoother.
An unfortunate side-effect means that Medea’s existence is revealed to some of Gotham’s rogues.
While some of the rogues are tolerable, some are…a little more questionable in their ability to be left around children. Harv and he come to the rare agreement that Medea will be kept away from Joker at all times. That one encounter with Joker was more than enough to form a decision. A few more names make the list, like Professor Pyg.
“Your kid, Dent?” asks Selina.
It was hard not to assume that –especially when she was dressed in a shirt that took after his colour scheme. “Something like that.” To reveal such a card so early without knowing her motives.
“Never took you for the fatherly type.”
Later that night, he wonders – had things become more? Did they want it to be such? It’s a peculiar question in that the two halves that made up him agreed very quickly.
The next time he's asked, the answer slips out without a second thought.
Against all odds, the child named Medea has wormed his way into their cold, frozen heart. Still, this doesn’t mean he will give up his lifestyle for this child.
All it means is that they have to be a little more careful now. Getting into Arkham is an annoyance, but it also means that they won’t see Medea for quite some time until a jailbreak is orchestrated.
And God knew that he wasn’t entrusting a fourteen-year-old with such a task. The kid might be an excellent debater – but it was Harvey who taught her many of his tricks.
So arrangements are made.
These days, Selina isn’t that great of an option anymore. After leaving Medea with her once, he returns as a budding thief in the making. Harv thought it hilarious, but Harvey thought otherwise.
“Really?” he asks, exasperated.
Selina shrugged.
So, Pamela, it was. Despite Pamela’s vehement protests that she cared only for plants, everyone knew. Medea had a way of worming her way into your heart.
She might come back much more environmentally conscious, but Harvey found this a far more preferable option – an arrangement Harv frowned at.
Harv and he were at odds. Neither would agree on what path they wanted Medea to follow. She’s a bright, curious child and would likely excel at whatever they set their mind at.
And the thing was, he couldn’t ask Medea either, especially when she was so eager to please. If Harv won the argument and asked Medea to be his heir, Medea would agree regardless of how she felt. The silly child would see it as her duty to do so, to repay him for taking her in.
Decisions. Decisions.
Now if only Medea would stop being a magnet of trouble. This was something that both sides of him could agree on.
The pain–
Help! Dad!
Please!
No, no, no.
Harvey refuses for this to ever happen again. Harv can say what he wants, but Harvey has made up his mind. Medea will never be heir and take over what he has built as Two-Face.
The image of Medea lying in that hospital bed, looking so small and devoid of that vibrancy he’d long associated with Medea.
How can such a small child hold so many injuries?
“Harvey please–” shouts Batman, trying to hold him back. “Two-Face!”
“You bastard!” He struggled and failed to free himself from his former friend’s hold. “He hurt what’s ours!” Medea hadn’t even been looking for trouble, rather Joker had thought it fun to hurt her. FUN.
Harvey has never hated Bruce more at this moment. His child is unconscious, bruised and bloody– yet he is being told that it isn’t right? Medea, who had been punished for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It’s to Bruce’s luck that Robin is there and shouts that Medea has awakened. It is the only reason that his plans for murdering Joker are put on pause. For tonight.
Medea is fifteen when she sits in a hospital alone as the doctors tell her of her condition. Harvey can’t visit her here, not when he’s so well known as Two-Face to the general public.
Nobody holds her when they remove the bandages and she still can’t see out of her left eye. The first time she looks in the mirror, she almost doesn't recognize herself.
Two days later, a message is smuggled to her bedside. ‘Stay,’ writes her father. ‘I’ll come for you myself.’ It’s unsigned but Medea recognizes the sharp, evenly-spaced writing as Harvey’s.
The night before Harvey smuggled her out, the city is abuzz with news. The Joker is dead.
When Joker dies, there isn’t enough evidence for the GCPD to determine a culprit. Not that anyone was inclined to do so. All the Rogues know though – Joker had died by his hand – as had Batman who’d eventually visited him.
Harvey counts himself lucky that the vigilante doesn’t break the window for his dramatic entrance. He’d have shot the man had he done so – Medea was sleeping in the next room, and everyone knew that she didn’t sleep well these days. To wake her was akin to court death.
“Why?” demands Batman.
Harvey scoffed, before turning to light up a cigar.
“Harvey,” he tries, his voice softer.
“You know just as well as I why. And if you don’t–” He blew out some smoke. “–then perhaps you’ve become a monster yourself.”
That night, Batman leaves empty-handed.
They find her the best doctors on the black market.
Medea will walk again. Harvey swears so.
His paranoia rivals the Bat when he tries to send her to boarding school abroad. It doesn’t work very well, not when Medea’s temper is a ferocious beast.
“You’re throwing me out,” she spits out, a mix of anger and fear in her expression. Gone are the days that she used to eye his holster, wondering if she’d be shot for saying the wrong thing.
They both know that he wouldn’t – neither would Harv. He would be no better than his father if he raised his hand to her.
“It’s not like that at all.”
“Then why are you sending me away?” she demands.
“Because I’m trying – we’re trying to do the right thing for you.” You were hurt and I don’t want to risk it happening again.
“Don’t I get a say in any of this?”
Perhaps he has taught her too well. In the back of his mind, Harv cackles. ‘You brought this onto yourself.’
Because Medea employs a variety of tactics and tugs on the right amount of heartstrings that he relents and allows her to stay in Gotham.
If she was a lawyer – she’d be a damn good one.
Medea is seventeen and just as nervous as the first time they crossed paths
“What do you want?” asks Harv. “Are you trying to wear a hole in the carpets?”
Her cheeks warmed and she shook her head, stopping in her tracks.
“Then spit it out.”
So she does, laying out her points one after another as she’d been taught. She wants to go to university, but there was no way of knowing what Harv and Harvey would think.
If it’s a matter of money, Medea has prepared in advance. When she’d applied, she wrote application after application for scholarships. It covers some, but not all. Though she should be able to make up a difference by taking out a loan or two.
A frown stretched on both sides of his face at that.
Medea’s heart dropped when the coin was brought up. Leaving it up to chance sounded terrifying because at least she could debate her way through any other method but this.
“Heads, you go and we will pay for the schooling. Scarred side, you don’t. Alright?”
She can’t find the strength to form words, so she settles for a nod. The coin flips in the air and she holds her breath, waiting to see what she’d be sentenced to.
“Heads. So–” Harv is cut off when she hugs the man tight.
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!”
“Thank the coin, not me,” he says with a laugh.
As Medea disappeared from his study and was likely off to share the good news with others, Harvey played with the coin in his hand.
His daughter was getting cleverer by the day, but she had forgotten to check both sides of the coin first.
Bored, he spun the coin on the wooden desk, watching it land on the unscarred side, showing heads. Then he flipped the coin, revealing the other side to be identical. Replicas on the market were getting better these days, funny how they were almost identical to the real thing.
Like he’d said years before. Medea is a bright child.
He’s beyond proud that she gets accepted into law school. Though he half wishes that she’d chosen to study outside of Gotham – it was safer, though he’d miss her greatly.
It hasn’t been so many years that those who knew Harvey Dent before the accident would be dead. Many of his classmates had gone on to become professors themselves, and some of his former professors had continued teaching.
Harvey wonders – had he passed on to Medea too many of his traits? He hears the whispers that Medea is the second coming of Apollo. As in his old nickname from his law school days.
The snider ones add that they need not worry that she’d turn crazy as her past encounter with Joker had left her damaged. Blind in her left eye and she walked with a cane these days, her leg never having healed correctly.
Harv dislikes those rumours and vows that those who perpetuated those were lucky he didn’t know their name just yet.
Still, he worries because growing up in a shadow like this isn’t any good. But he finds that this isn’t a problem because her nickname settles into something else.
Themis. The personification of divine law and order.
Medea huffs about it as she appears in his study, taking one of his seats for herself as she complains about the nickname. “I’m telling you, Dad, it’s because of that stupid quote the professor wrote during one of our lectures. ‘Justice is blind’.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear, revealing said blind eye. “Like it’s not even creative,” she says, gesturing to it.
Despite how much science had advanced, there was nothing anyone could do for her eyes. Thus Medea’s left eye was white from the scarring while her other eye remained blue.
“Yeah?”
“Besides the blindness, I bet that they only chose Themis because I’m a girl. Besides, it’s not even accurate. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“There’s Dike, who actually represents mortal justice in mythology. She should be the one that lady justice is based upon, not Themis. Themis is all about divine law and order – so rules established by the gods. It’s strange, this implication that ‘mortal’ law doesn’t apply to me.”
“Maybe it’s cause they’re scared of you, kiddo,” quips Harv. “Debating with you is a terrifying endeavour.” He chuckled at her exasperated look. “Or perhaps this is how they console themselves when they lose to you,” suggests Harvey. “That they can’t compete with a ‘god’.”
To Medea’s eternal chagrin, the name ‘Themis’ is here to stay.
It’s what the press latches onto once she graduates and starts making a name for herself in the legal field.