In all the years since, I'd never gone back. None of us had, I don't think. Simply wasn't a time or place worth revisiting. And, I mean, I can only speak for myself here, but seeing as how a thing like that was somethin' you never forgot, in a lot of ways it felt like I was stuck there anyhow. In that clearing…just out of the woods…just off the train tracks and the dirt road. I grew up, but a part of my stayed there, and I'm thinking I'm not the only one that felt that way.

Looking at it now, it seemed the same as we'd left it all those years ago. My nightmares hadn't lied to me. Though, seeing it in the light of day with some, uh, perspective on my side was a strange feeling. A sorta cold crept into my chest, spreading outward to my limbs and then my fingers. Pam was still holding my hand, but I couldn't really feel her, everyone seemed very far away.

"Do think Harvey felt like a murderer?" Bruce asked, breaking a silence that felt both reverent and suffocating.

"Why would he?" Selina asked.

Bruce shrugged. "You know how he took the whole world on his shoulders."

My eyes slowly swept my surroundings, trailing from the old tree to the tall grass, then down to the creek beyond all of it. The creek that held our secret so serenely. My gaze then drifted to Pam, whose jaw was set beside me, eyes trained on a spot just in front of her, one that held no meaning for me—not yet, anyway. I could see Pam plain as day, beautiful beyond belief, tall, strong, confident…but Pam was not here with us. In that moment, she was as far away as Harvey, lost in her remembering.

"They didn't burn witches in Salem," Pam said, as Jack came closer with the gasoline. "That's a myth."

He kept the gun pointed at us while unscrewing the cap with his free hand. "Then let's re-write some history." He grinned wildly at his own joke, always so pleased with himself. "Take your hat off, Pammy." He said again, somehow more threatening this time.

Pam shrugged, though her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Jack, but I suppose you'll have to kill me."

She was egging him on, I couldn't believe it. I knew the only reason she was being this stupid was she had no idea the evil he was truly capable of. She hadn't seen it yet, not really. Bullying and burning someone alive were two very different leagues of depravity, but after he showed me the refrigerator, I knew Jack was prepared to make that jump.

"Pamela, please," a tear ran down my face. I only used her full name when I really needed her to listen. "Just take it off." This wasn't the moment for her to be proud.

Pam looked at me then, her eyes boring into mine as she studied me, stared into what felt like my soul for some answer I was evidently giving her. I think she saw my fear then. My bone chilling, stomach turning, heart racing fear.

…And so she obeyed. She took her hat off, and as she did, those breathtaking green eyes of hers sparkled with tears of her own.

Only after thinking on it for a long time—seeing those haunted eyes every night when I closed my own for years after the fact—did I realize, in that moment, she expected to die. Perhaps she'd expected it since the moment Jack had appeared in the clearing with the gun. After all, she hadn't known Bruce had brought a gun. She'd thought we were all defenseless, knew she would be the first to go based on the intensity of Jack's hatred for her, and had accepted that. She'd just wanted it to be on her terms. Pam had wanted to die—at 14—with as much dignity as she could muster. She'd wanted to die wearing her hat, her cloak of invisibility, her armor against a dangerous and unjust world. And she'd taken it off for me. Because I'd asked her to. Because she hadn't wanted me to blame myself when she inevitably burned. She loved me that much, even then.

And yet, I hadn't loved her enough to save her.

Harvey had.

Jack tipped the can once Pam's bare head was revealed, dousing her beautiful red curls in the viscous yellow liquid that would be her undoing.

And that's when Harvey moved. Almost quicker than I could track. He leapt at Jack, tackling him onto the ground, the rest of the gas can spilling over them as they wrestled for the gun on the grass.

For a split second, Jack had a good enough hold on it to pull the trigger, the bullet burrying itself harmlessly in the tree above them. Though the shot rang out so close to Harvey's ear that he was disoriented for long enough for Jack to grab the lighter.

I'll never forget the spark. And the scream, the blood curdling scream that erupted from deep within Harvey's throat as his ear burned.

Jack paused in his struggle for the gun, engrossed in the flames, a smile licking at the corner of his lips. And I moved. Slowly, it felt like. I leaned over, and suddenly the gun was mine.

If I'm being honest, it didn't feel real. None of it. Not the weight of the gun in my hand, nor the pressure of my finger on the trigger. But the bullet was real, as was the look of surprise on Jack's face as he clutched his chest, blood spurting out from between his fingers.

Pam didn't wait for me to empty the clip before ripping her shirt off from underneath her overalls and tackling Harvey with it, stifling the fire that was moving into his hair.

I'd only fired BB guns before, but this really didn't feel much different. I pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, even though there were only two more bullets left in the clip. The gun clicked impotently after it was already over, still aimed at Jack. My victim.

Harvey sobbed while Pam held him, rocking gently like she had with me on that rock only hours earlier. Bruce and Selina simply stood, eyes wide as Jack choked on the blood that had seeped into his lungs. He didn't watch me as he died, didn't look at the gun. Instead, he stared at Pam, her green reflecting in his diminishing gaze. The sight he'd craved so badly…his last.

The stream bubbled peacefully in the background, the only sound besides Jack's desperate gurgling and Harvey's whimpering. My heart didn't beat. It and my mind stayed quiet, the scene settling heavy around me, like fog rolling in thick on the river.

It was over. Just like that, Jack was dead, and I was standing there holding the gun, smoke still twisting off the muzzle.

"Well, good afternoon, folks. What brings ya all the way out here?"

The voice woke me from my memories. I was a woman again. The blood washed from my hands, but still staining my soul.

We all stiffened as Eddie took a step closer, inviting himself into our circle.

"I understand the urge to get outta town, can be awfully stifling sometimes," he continued. "But this is an awful long walk, especially in church clothes."

"Yes, well," Selina took the reins. "We were just reminiscing. Been a while since we've been home, and can't imagine when we're coming back."

"Odd place ta reminisce…" Eddie was wearing a sort of half-cocked smile. "A boy died out here, ya know, years back—decades, at this point. Jack Kerr. Ya'll remember that little tragedy?"

"I'd hardly characterize it as a tragedy," Pam said. "And I thought he ran away. Last I heard no one had ever found a body."

"Oh…" Eddie put his foot up on an old stump. "I did." Again, he seemed awfully satisfied with himself, and I felt my blood run cold in my veins. "Yeah…" he whistled. "Jack Kerr. Body was in better shape than I thought it might be for how long he'd been gone. See, I found him sealed into an old refrigerator down stream there." He nodded down river. "Seemed he'd been buried in it a little too close to the river bank. The water flooded, and he resurfaced."

We were all a little lost for words, so Bruce took over. "I'm not sure what you're trying to imply…"

Selina squeezed his arm. Hard. And he shut his mouth.

That didn't go unnoticed by Eddie, who took his foot off the stump, planting himself on the ground with one hand on his belt. "Oh, calm down, Mr. Wayne. Seemed all his injuries were self-inflicted."

Pam's eyebrow raised at that, and we looked at each other questioningly.

"Yeah, see, his body wasn't the only set of remains we found in that refrigerator," Eddie went on. "We found animal bones too—tons of em'. Seemed the little psycho considered himself a scientist."

"So, what," Pam interjected—she couldn't help herself. "He was experimenting on animals in there and just…shut himself in with them? Is that your theory?"

"Well…it would be…if not for the bullet holes," Eddie grinned. "But wouldn't you know, I got them bullets tested down at a fancy lab in DC, and you know what they told me?"

"What?" I breathed.

"Turned out they were shot from a gun that Jack's daddy owned." Eddie told us. "Boys that age, especially violent ones, they can't be trusted with weapons. Poor boy unloaded three bullets in himself then headed right for the fridge, shutting himself inside, never to be seen again."

"And then he—what—buried himself, too?"

I really wanted to kick Pam right then.

Eddie just shrugged. "Unless you got a better explanation." He looked at her, silently imploring her to take what he was offering.

Pam stood thinking for a moment. "No, I guess…maybe he dug the hole first, put the fridge down there, shot himself, shut himself in, then the water covered the hole with mud itself afterward."

Selina nodded fervently. "That sounds like something Jack would do."

I found my head bobbing in agreement.

"I called it in accident," Eddie concluded. "Me n' my deputy buried him on his family's land. Sad thing is, nobody came to the funeral. Not a soul."

"Rest in peace," Bruce offered, somehow maintaining his steely expression.

"Mmm…" Eddie nodded, that smirk still dancing on his lips. "Amen."

I'd never thought'a friendships as being 'strategic', but on the silent walk back, I just thanked God I knew Eddie Nygma. And maybe even thanked him that Eddie had a secret while I was at it.

We spent the rest of the day a little shell shocked, I think. We drank quietly, only after I'd closed my diner to the public.

"Shot himself, then closed himself in a refrigerator," Bruce mumbled, the sound barely escaping the brim of his glass. "What are the chances."

"A miracle," Selina half laughed, downing her shot.

"Hallelujah," Pam joked.

I saw a need, and topped their glasses off, doing what I could to fill what felt like a void in us.

"I guess we can…let him go," Bruce said.

"Who?" I asked, hoping he didn't mean Harvey just yet.

"Jack," he answered. "I don't think he has to live in us any longer. Him, that day, that place, this town. None of it. I want to let it all go. I want to leave and I don't want to come back this time."

Selina nodded in solemn agreement.

I watched her closely, but Pam didn't say anything, just drank.

They left not long afterward—Bruce and Selina—telling us they'd be leaving first thing in the morning, so this was goodbye.

Forever…was all I could think.

Feisty, fierce, scrappy, outspoken, ill-tempered, Selina Kyle. And strong, brave, stoic, silently-tortured Bruce Wayne. They walked out of my diner and back out of my life as quickly as they'd re-entered it. I didn't have the words to give them. Couldn't show them all they'd written on my heart. So I simply let them go with hugs, kisses, and promises to write, maybe call.

Pam walked me back home, kissing me once we were safely inside the doorway.

But a panic started to rise in my chest and I pushed—well, more like shoved—her away from me. "No!" I said, startling her. "No, no, I don't wanna do this again. You're leaving too!"

Pam seemed a bit taken aback by my ferocity. "Harley, yes, this—this place isn't my home anymore. I made a life for myself elsewhere, one I'm once again happy to share with you, if you'd like."

"So, what? You want me to just leave everything behind? My business, my home, my community, just because our friend died and you miraculously decided to waltz back into my life for a few days?"

Pam stayed a safe distance away from me, her mouth slightly agape, almost like she was grasping for the right words. Finally, she landed on. "No. I'm not doing this again. It hurt me too bad the first time." She had her hand on my doorknob. "I'm not 18 anymore. I'm not going to beg. You may have gotten away with murder, Harleen, but as long as you stay here, you'll remain haunted by your past—your violence and your mistakes and your shame. I refuse to live in mine any longer."

The screen door shook on its hinges as it slammed behind her, and I shook with it.

Fuck you! I wanted to scream, as much at myself as at her.

I was so tired of being left behind. So tired of being forgotten. Left in the past with Castle Rock and Jack and the refrigerator and even Harvey, now. I didn't want to be buried here. Didn't want to join them all—my parents and the rest—buried within city limits. Another forgotten story of small-town America.

I didn't want to be alone anymore.

The next morning dawned a bit earlier than I appreciated. I opened my eyes, squinting against the morning sun, and gradually scanned my surroundings, trying to find my bearings.

The first thing I noticed was I was still dressed in my mourners' clothes, shoes and all. My face was puffy from tears and…my suitcase lay open at the foot of my bed. Packed.

Pam.

My attention shot to my clock.

Shit! Her train was probably about to leave!

I jumped out of bed, not bothering to change my clothes, there simply wasn't enough time, slipped my shoes on and zipped up my suitcase. I was out the door a minute later, not even allowing myself a glance back.

I must have looked a sight, sprinting down main street in my black dress and converse tennis shoes, dragging my suitcase behind me.

"Where's the fire, Harl?" Eddie had pulled up beside me in his squad car.

"Train station!" I yelled, not stopping. "Pam's gonna leave again and I just can't stand it, Ed. I'm going with her!"

He checked his watch. "Well, you ain't gonna make it on foot. She's on the 8am outta here. Come on, hop in!"

He didn't question me. Not for a second. Didn't ask a single follow up besides, "You got a ticket?"

"Shit!" I cursed, lifting my foot to kick his dashboard.

"Hey, hey, come on now, calm down. I can take care of that, don't you worry," he assured me, pulling up at the train station and yanking my suitcase from the middle seat.

Steam was already billowing from the locomotive, the whistle ringing out just as we jogged onto the platform.

"Hey!" Eddie shouted at the conductor. "Now hold on just a minute," he held up his badge. "You're missing a passenger."

"No, sir," the conductor disagreed. "Stubs say everyone's accounted for."

"Well, this one here needs to board on official sheriff business," Eddie told him. "It's a matter of life and death, I'm afraid. You don't want to impede an official investigation, do you?"

"Uh…no sir…"

"Good. Now open the doors."

The conductor obeyed, and I could now see inside the passenger section. I turned to Eddie, breathing heavily from the exertion and the adrenaline. "I'm scared."

He smiled wryly, "Me too, doll. Now get up on outta here. Castle Rock ain't no place for queers, me and you both know that."

I laughed. "I want a Christmas card when you finally find the man of your dreams."

"You strike a hard bargain." He gave an encouraging push. "We'll manage without you."

I stepped up off the platform and into the cabin. "You'll make sure everybody gets fed?"

Eddie nodded. "And no one else gets murdered, you have my word."

The whistle rang out again and the doors closed. The land shifted and Castle Rock chugged into my past.

I steadied myself, finding my footing and attempting to quiet the canaries in my stomach. Then I turned, walking slowly up the aisle, peering at each passenger, until I came across a redhead with her nose buried in a book.

I cleared me throat. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"