Ladies and Gentlemen! The WINNER! This submission caught my attention immediately and I think you all will agree with me on why I chose it. I received many good ones and if you participated, I thank you! I had a great time reading them and am looking forward to getting this story going! Anyways, without further ado, here is your prologue to A Matter of Time, written by Psychadelicious. Send her your kudos or feel free to leave her a review on this chapter! I'm sure she would greatly appreciate it.
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. Prologue
As a matter of fact, the six hour car trip (seven hours and nine minutes counting traffic) was spent in electrically charged silence. The radio had been playing for two of these hours before Joker - who had been quietly seething to himself and muttering inaudibly - had flicked the knob off in a sudden burst of furious energy which caused Jayde to flinch out of her window-coma. Trying to play off her involuntary reaction would have done no good and in all likelihood wouldn't have been entirely convincing so after collecting herself she slunk back into position, hovering in the space between the seat and the door, as if she were trying to mold herself into as little surface area as possible. Her hands curled childishly under her chin help support her head, sluggish from the foggy hours. It seemed pointless to fidget or to try to talk, there was nothing to be said.
They had been forced to roll the windows up due to an interlude of sputtering rain which Joker had pointed out numbly before pulling up the window triggers simultaneously. This alone had caught Jayde off guard. A simple emotionless phrase, "S'raining." had been spoken entirely too quickly and before she had time to register the crack in the crushing silence it was long over, replaced by the eeking mechanical drag of rising windows.
The wake left in this fresher silence hit Jayde like a spiked wall, leaving new questions that have no innate answer to be left gaping and exposed to various mental elements. Jayde remained mute, mulling over this significantly mundane statement and deciding to let it speak for itself, which it did. It would be painfully futile to try striking up conversation; anything said would either climax awkwardly or not at all, perhaps fading out of existence by sheer will; the conversation throwing itself valiantly against the windows hoping to escape from its own hopelessness. Jayde entertained the notion that any conversation would be bluntly switched off like the radio. She couldn't say she blamed him, she didn't feel like talking much either. Still, even irrelevant conversation, no matter how brief, would have been healthier than the hypersensitive silence. It was practically volatile, this atmosphere of heavy silence, not deafening in the least. If anything the silence focused all other sounds: breathing, sniffing, coughing, rain spattering softly on the windows, the hum of the engine, gravel under the wheels. It was almost as if the volume of reality had been turned up full blast.
Countless times Jayde had to fight down the urge to ask a question with such vigor she thought Joker might be able to hear the clockwork grinding in her head. She could chip a tooth for how hard her teeth were clamped shut. Every time she would catch herself trying to bite her own teeth she would force herself to remove the pressure and she berated herself, thinking about her dental health. However this could only provide seconds worth of distraction and before she knew it her jaw had contracted again under cover of the meager mental diversion. This tiresome internal battle took a heavy toll on Jayde's stamina, worn down as it was by withered emotion. She began to feel consciously aware of how heavy her eyelids felt, as if they were begging to give shelter and relief to her red, beaten eyes. They were swelling, and every labored blink triggered a fresh burn, reminding her to stay awake. Jayde was not about to let her body win out, no matter how her eyes wailed or what kind of mean, nasty, ugly pictures her mind gratuitously painted and replayed.
One particular idea held her mind in an inescapable choke-hold. The silence in the car was diametrically opposite to the torrential downpour in Jayde's head.
It's going to take time for him to come around again but if there is one person who can give him love, it's you...
But what if he won't let me? The question, seemingly silly from an outside perspective, plagued Jayde like a vicious little mosquito, bloated and greedy. Joker's hostile silence was proof enough that he was not emotionally equipped to handle that kind of admission. By all rights, he could do something regrettably stupid and then they would both be in a world of misery and absence. It was true, they weren't exactly frolicking in sunny meadows at the moment, but at least they had each other. That being said, if she out and out told Joker she loved him the way she did, it could only end badly. With Joker and Tre's brotherly relationship so abruptly ended it would be a smart bet of enlightenment proportions that almost any romantic inclination was firmly and indefinitely on hold and it would be in Jayde's enlightened self-interest to put a respectful distance between herself and Joker for the time being. This, however, absolutely could not go on forever, she was sure of this much.
Maybe not in the near future, but soon enough, Joker would need sympathy. Not pity. Never pity. A day would come when he needed Jayde's love and affection, so readily given, it was, for all intents and purposes, at his beck and call; if Joker was aware of this Jayde didn't know, but she held out hope that he did. He had to understand that he had her love running hot and cold on tap. If this wasn't apparent by this point in their lugubrious relationship, then it might never be. If that was the case, Jayde would eventually have to suck it up and take drastic measures which she hadn't decided upon yet and selfishly hoped she would not have to. With luck and gratuitous amounts of patience, Jayde felt confident that reciprocation of her quiet feelings would come. But in light of their grieving, gloomy situation and the change of scenery, she had to wonder how long she could hold out. Seeds of doubt were being sown. All the same, the moment of truth would come sooner or later – sooner rather than later – and Jayde figured this bare information to be comforting in itself.
Surreptitiously, she looked at Joker's stiff face from her periphery. In the inky darkness and still without makeup, he looked pale and unblinking at the flat curve of the road, chewing on his cheeks, undoubtedly lost in some dark thought. Jayde began to quiet her own thoughts, until one little glistening vow made her smile. I will give my love to him... I'll give it to him whether he likes it or not.
And she did smile, having the tact to turn her face completely to the window and smile at the passing landscape. Around her aura she felt suddenly peaceful, as if high from the mental declaration. She would be strong, be an anchor of reality and peace for Joker, especially now and whenever he would need it in the future. She would act as a temple, and be steady.
Dark trees grew blurry and wet and Jayde realized with a nauseating jolt of panic and that she was crying. Staring vacuously as he was, Joker did not notice Jayde's unexpected emotional upheaval, much to Jayde's silent, grateful relief. She tried not to sniffle pitifully, or wipe her eyes, or draw any kind of attention to her tears. Soon she stopped crying but the tranquil smile remained shivering over her mouth.
A horrendously entertaining and vivid scenario materialized in her mind in which she made her love apparent by grappling Joker while he was still driving causing him to swerve frantically in utter confusion as to the languid smile still present on Jayde's unflinching face as the Escalade rammed into a tree or road sign, somehow splitting the car symmetrically for imaginations' sake. Outside of the confines of Jayde's mind in quiet reality, she felt another strong urge to laugh. She really did want to hug Joker for the validation of her feelings but resisted the compulsion to even look in his direction, smarting as he was, she did not want to provoke him and regardless of this valid reason she also lacked the base energy to do so. An almost hysterical compulsion for action smothered by inertia.
Joker's eyes had been drooping as well, the dark circles under them felt sensitive to every labored blink. He knew they would have to find a place to sleep soon. Pass out, rather, because Joker had a nagging feeling that he would get no sleep wherever he decided to stop, however the idea of staying awake all night in a dingy motel bed sounded better than staying awake all night in the car. His mind was strangely blank, he hadn't thought of a single significant thing the whole time in the car. He only seemed to register the shift in scenery, various license plates – one of which had almost made him want to laugh – local flora, the transition from evening to night, and now the only thing on his mind was deciding upon a place to sleep. Wringing his fingers around the wheel, he collected all his mental efforts into a single thought at a time, anything else would lead to certain destruction and heavy confusion. They were long since off the highway and coming up on a motel-convenience store chain. He made a sharp left into the parking lot, gently stirring Jayde. She looked questioningly at Joker, the first time during the entire seven hours but still she refrained from asking the obvious.
"We're stopping here for the night," Joker informed her curtly, intentionally looking at everything but her, even having the bad taste to blink laboriously when his eyes finally flitted over Jayde's pitiful expression. "We'll hit Chicago in the morning. Get us a room." Joker took several hundred dollars from his pocket and held the aloft. He stared blankly at a wet spot on Jayde's shoulder where tears had stained her shirt. He swallowed this information and loudly cleared his throat to speed Jayde's reaction.
After a moment's hesitation over deciding what to say Jayde simply took the offered wad of twenties with a nod and an unassuming "Okay." She exited the car, walking slowly. The reality of the crunching sound of stepped-on gravel acted like caffeine to her; suddenly and inexplicably her eyelids felt lighter and opened wide into the refreshing night air and she helped herself to great greedy gulps of it. They weren't close enough to the city to smell it and she was almost sorry to go inside.
Once inside, however, she was sorry. It was like walking into someone else's nightmare; vividly awful but holding a deja vu kind of familiarity. The wall behind the desk was fake pine paneling and the other three were decked in faded floral vomit. A wicker living room set in the corner opposite the ATM had been meticulously arranged and rearranged, judging from the fresh imprints still in the pink polyester carpet. The place reeked of rejected college applications and cheap lubricant. At least one of which was drifting from the pores of a pinch-faced, middle-aged woman with horn rimmed glasses picking at a knuckle scab with vigorous determination. This was the manager. Her name was Tandy, or so read the scuffed name tag. Jayde cautiously cleared her throat, unsure of what else would get the woman's attention while at the same time itching to leave. Tandy's head shot up immediately and her mouth spread like her obnoxiously large teeth were smeared with Vaseline. She caressed her name tag with a greasy finger, a nervous habit. "Hello darling! Little late to be driving by now, isn't it?"
Jayde forced a smile in return, and tried to keep the derision and impatience out of her voice. "That's why I'm here." She smacked her lips frankly, eyeing dead flowers housed in kitschy ceramic.
"Of course it is!" She clasps her hands in excitement. Blood pooled between her fingers. "You'd like a room? Smoking or non-smoking?"
"Smoking," Jayde answered reflexively before remembering that she had no more cigarettes.
"Is it just you?" She asks strangely, gauging gossip, as if it would break the soul-crushing boredom obviously present in Tandy's mediocre life.
"No, my boyfriend's parking the car." Even stranger, the sentence came out cleanly, naturally, much to Jayde's silent surprise. She tried to lower her eyebrows from her widow's peak but they seemed to be stuck there. She tried to play it off with another smile. Tandy noticed nothing, staring at her computer screen typing slowly. If she did notice something off with Jayde's expression she must have thought she was simply inquisitive.
Tandy slowly raised a hand to lower her glasses to the bridge of her nose, appearing business-like, "Room twelve is available; it's right by the ice machine."
Jayde shrugged compliantly, "Perfect. How much do I owe you?"
The room was not much different to reception; unreal flowers reminiscent of ugly Vegas carpeting had absorbed into the curtains which matched the dusty bedspread. The carpet was a richer shade of pink from less exposure to light. Furniture was in no way spectacular, all fake wood grain. Two plastic cups sat on the dresser on napkins as if to distract from the fact the cups were plastic and disposable. Joker studied the room intensely before running his nails along his scalp. "Get what you need for tonight from your bags, but don't unpack too much." Jayde nodded silently, feeling that this needed no more of a response. The gravel-caffeine had not worn off so Jayde, beginning to feel restless in the presence of so many dead and undead flowers, decided to visit the convenience store later for some cigarettes, not having had one since leaving Dotcom, Gotham, and everything behind.
Joker seemed to be more talkative than he had all day; this was partially catalyzed by Jayde's lack of verbal involvement. "I'm uh, gonna grab a shower. Are you going to bed?" He asked hopefully.
"Not yet. I was thinking of getting some smokes for tomorrow. Figured I could do that now." Joker nodded dismissively, waving a hand in the direction of the door on his way to the bathroom. Jayde took this as her queue. Before committing herself to a walking trip, Jayde picked up the keys from the bed and sifting through boxes and bags in the trunk of the Escalade. After fishing out a shirt and pajama bottoms from an obscure cardboard box she hoisted a brown duffel bag with some of her day clothes over her shoulder and dumped the lot inside. The shower was already running and all Jayde heard was the straining of pipes and water hitting tile. Or cheap linoleum. She wasn't sure what the bathroom looked like yet.
Still in possession of a generous amount of hard currency, Jayde left the room, shutting the door deftly so as not to arouse any kind of reaction – good or bad – from Joker. Jayde wanted his shower to be undisturbed to give them both the best chance at a solid night's sleep. The air outside had cooled down but there was no wind. Despite this, Jayde had to wrap her arms around herself to keep warm. She quickened her pace and the rush of warm blood to her toes helped even her out. Thankfully, the store was decorated nothing like the motel. In fact, it wasn't decorated at all. Stark plaster walls, generic office ceiling tile and nothing on the walls but shelves. Even after only minutes at a time spent looking at 70's throwback wallpaper, the lack thereof was a huge relief.
As Jayde explored the aisles she began to realize something that she couldn't put into words until she took a good long look at the shelf behind the counter. She wanted to say goodbye properly. She walked purposefully to the distant-eyed man behind the counter, "I'd like a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Wild Turkey, please."
Feeling superficially proud of her bounty as she walked back to the room, Jayde felt that bright feeling slink away the closer she got. The shower was still running and the pipes were still complaining; Jayde shut the door with some finesse, trying not to disturb Joker. She placed the bottle next to the TV and changed into the pajamas she had laid out previously.
Then very deliberately, Jayde aligned the two cups and poured a hefty measure into each then set the bottle down. The seconds passed like the wait between earthquake and aftershock. Jayde gulped down her shot, two streams trickled down the corners of her mouth which she wiped numbly away with her sleeve. The bourbon would leave a stain. She decided not to refill her cup; the memorial shot had served it's purpose.
"To Tre," She muttered thickly, raising her empty cup to nothing, to nobody. The cup made a hollow sound when she placed it next to Joker's filled one. Jayde felt sure he would understand. She wasn't going to force him to take the shot, even joked with herself that she would take it if Joker didn't want it. She left the bottle and cups on the dresser, lay on the bed and turned on the TV, feeling snug in her pajamas but not enough to get under the covers. Briefly, she debated pretending to be asleep when Joker got out of the shower to afford him some privacy but thought better of it. It couldn't possibly be any different than the car ride. If Joker refused to talk, Jayde wouldn't force him. Having that kind of respect for Joker's feelings left Jayde feeling happier knowing that she understood him enough to be tactful instead of tending to her own wounds first.
After twenty minutes of the cooking channel Jayde started to worry if Joker was ever coming out. Normally his showers were quick and to the point. Almost as soon as the irrational thought had entered her mind it was replaced by subtle relief when she could no longer hear the pipes rattling over the TV The slight moment of panic – directed at her half-baked rehashed plan of feigning sleep – aside, Jayde felt calm and ready to sleep soon enough. She only wanted to say goodnight. Her eyes never left the TV screen when the door opened and Joker emerged from the mist wearing only gray sweatpants and a towel around his head. If Jayde's eyes had strayed she would have laughed. Joker's eyes flickered from Jayde's blank stare to the TV and then to the bottle and two cups next to the TV
He unraveled the towel and threw it to the mercy of the ugly floor, narrowing his eyes at the drink. "What's this?" He asked Jayde blandly.
Now Jayde began to panic. However she was far too low on energy to panic properly so she simply said, "Memorial shots." The second Joker turned his back Jayde fixed her eyes on him, hoping fervently that he wouldn't take the idea the wrong way, which he was more likely to do if she said anything more. She decided to let the gesture speak for itself, which it did. Joker observed both cups and decided he was partial to the idea and raised the cup to his lips, hissing away the burn. Jayde couldn't help but gape a little but she quickly shut her mouth at Joker's slightest movement. He only stood swaying for a minute before he put the cup down and sighed, pouring himself a second, smaller shot. Enamored, Jayde watched the spread of his shoulders and his steady slouch until finally Joker set down the cup with an air of finality. The TV went ignored from then on. All Jayde was able to do was stare dumbly while Joker ambled to the other side of the bed and sat down, huffing for a moment, then launching himself across and laying his damp head in Jayde's lap. His whole body felt like dead weight and each exhalation felt like deflation. Frankly, Joker was glad for the company. Plus the flat motel pillows slept on like fists wrapped in cardboard.
Now Jayde was completely conflicted. The bourbon had cleared her head but it had made it run a mile a minute and she couldn't decide on action. Heartily confused, she wanted to stroke Joker's chlorophyll green hair – darker when weighed down with water – and show him, if not tell him, that he had her comfort. She felt paralyzed by a crippling fear of heights but driven by an impossibly strong desire to fly. Something had to be done but she was terrified at the thought of choosing an action. This dilemma could be put off for the moment because Joker seemed perfectly content to lay in peace, clutching lightly at Jayde's pants to pull her closer or make himself comfortable. Jayde hoped it was both. She bravely ran fingers through his wet hair, around the shell of his ear.
"I'm kinda glad you came with me." In a thin rasp, Joker said this firmly but almost inaudibly. Jayde refused to let her shock win over her hands.
"I am too." She replied understandingly, but wearily.
Joker continued in the same low voice, "Now if I could just-..." He cut himself off, but made a little half-shrug against Jayde's leg and closed his eyes. She smiled and ran her knuckles along his jawbone. She realized with a pang that she was crying again and made sure that she didn't speak again until her voice was free of pathetic warbling. She wanted to tell him how strong she thought he was, how much she cared about him, how much Tre's death had hurt her too, how she shared his pain and if there was a way to lessen his grief she wanted to find that way.
Minutes and sniffles later she told Joker, "You'll be okay." But Joker was already asleep.
Jayde turned the TV off.
A note: As I'm sure you all noticed, this is indeed a follow-up of Tragedy. But don't worry, you will see more of Tre in flashbacks and memories! I'm really excited to get this going and am already nearly done with the first official chapter. So SIT TIGHT! And leave your love for Psychadelicious (no hate on the winner's piece) if you really want the next chapter! -QoM
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