Author's Note:

Again, many apologies for this chapter being more of a 'filler'. I keep doing this thing where my chapters come out uneven plot-wise and I never know where to cut them. Either way, I hope you enjoy the story. Reviews are very much appreciated as always! -Name

I don't eat
I don't sleep
I do nothing but think of you

You keep me under your spell

-'Under your spell', Desire

Zip!

Sunrays slipped through shut eyelids, black saturating into a vibrant red before her eyes snapped open on their own. Within a few seconds' time it dawned on her that she'd been awoken by the sound of a zipper. She lay completely still, head overwhelmed by a penetrating buzz, as if someone was blowing a dog whistle right next to her ear. A dazed blink later, she saw Gotham's riverbank extending over her bare feet.

Wait a second, bare?

In a moment of panic she shot up; please tell her she didn't wake up completely naked outside!

To her relief, it seemed like someone had bothered to dress her up in her sleep. She tapped her torso up and down, feeling the shirt and then moved to touch her pants. And though the thought of someone doing things to you while you're unconscious is unsettling to most, she found herself feeling grateful for that.

A noise caught her attention, Jerome's familiar scent manifesting beside her. She realized she'd been feeling his aura all along; and boy, was it a special aura. Her head snapped around to meet his image and froze staring at him; his sleeves rolled up, hair flying all over the place, feet kicking a bit into the dirt as he was trying to pull his pants up, looking mildly annoyed –but even that frown had a touch of mischief to it. When he sat somewhere, Harleen noted, he didn't just sit, like other people would occupy a spot in the space of a room. No, he owned that spot. Even if that spot was a mud-stain amidst river-grass.

A smile briefly flashed on her lips. But she quickly loosened it to form an 'oh' and snap around, digging into her pants' pocket for her trusty smoke pouch. Fortunately, it was still crinkled somewhere in the depths of her pocket, the little bit of tobacco left ground under the pressure. It wasn't in good condition, but she still flipped it open to take a pinch out and roll a cigarette. The slim stick, with its little fix of nicotine, was just what she needed to forget the pain that faded into her back as her nerves started to wake. A peculiar burning sensation spread underneath her shoulder area, all the way down to her tailbone.

She shivered a bit when reaching for her lighter. The little flick got Jerome's attention off of his belt and onto her hand. He stared at it before letting his eyes wander to her face and the little frown of annoyance from before became one of disappointment. Had she noticed his expression, she'd have put the lighter down. But she was too focused on trying to keep the flame from blowing out due to the cool river breeze passing by.

"Hey." Jerome finally broke the silence. His morning voice was groggy. "Gimme that."

Her brows furrowed lightly, but she handed the pouch over the next instant. Jerome examined it, scrutinizing the label for a bit, then dug his hand in the pocket and fiddled around with the smoke a little bit. He nodded thoughtfully, as if he was having a conversation about it with himself in his head. And then he shifted a bit, sitting upright and threw it in the river with a small hum.

Harleen was halfway through lighting her cigarette and choked on the smoke when the pouch flew past her. She jumped a bit on her seat and yelled a "Hey!" in between coughs. Jerome patted her back a bit too forcefully, forcing a few pained groans from the girl.

"You can thank me later." He flashed her a grin that faltered when his stomach complained loudly. Green eyes shot up to meet Gotham's grumpy morning sky; cloudy and gloomy as per usual. It was obviously too early in the morning, the time when fog around the river hasn't dissipated yet. His eye snapped to Harleen when she spat the cigarette on the grass and turned to him with a big pout.

"I'm not gonna thank you, assho-"

"Breakfast?" His head fell to the side, adding an eerie charm to the smug grin stuck on his face. She blinked, taken aback by the sudden proposition. But, considering she'd emptied her stomach after the 'ride' yesterday, it wasn't a bad idea.

"I'm…Uh, where?"

"My place." He'd already pushed himself up on his feet as he spoke, then started dusting his pants off. "Get up." She obeyed and slid the lighter back in her pocket with a huff.

The way to his trailer was very quiet. Tents felt empty and lifeless. Even their colors had dimmed under Gotham's pale morning light.

A funky stench came from Jerome as he waved his hand towards his wheeled home. It reminded Harleen that she too was carrying dried river water on her skin from last night. She raised an arm and whiffed her armpit. Her skin smelled odd. Her jeans, just as the rest of her clothes, were covered in mud-spots and carried a strong fishy stench.

"Ugh. I should really go home for a shower. But May's locked the door, probably." She mused in a low murmur. Jerome's nose scrunched up at her words.

"She locks you out?"

"Yeah." She breathed, a bit crestfallen.

"What a bitch." Jerome growled back.

"She's not a bitch!" Harleen was quick to defend her friend. Even if May hadn't been very nice yesterday, she felt the need to be understanding. "She just…I think she feels like I'm taking up too much space." The volume of her voice dropped even further. Jerome's left brow twitched.

"Well, are you?" The question caught her by surprise –it wasn't a popular way to respond to something like that. His tone was stripped of all sympathy too, which made Harleen's sigh deeper.

"…I did splatter water all over the floor yesterday. I was trying to rub the…" She paused, glancing to his bandaged hand. "…red off my show pants."

"Ah." He nodded in understanding. "Blood's stubborn when it's dry." She let out a small huff and slid both hands in her pockets. They continued to walk in silence for a bit, slowly approaching the red cage with the sleeping boa curled up inside. Sheeba looked much smaller than what she actually was. Harleen had seen her unfold when Lila was holding her. "You know, I was thinking, even though we're running away, I'd still like to keep dancing."

Jerome's brows furrowed in puzzlement.

"Running away?" His head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he calmly made his way to the wagon's door.

"Like you said."

"I said that?"

"Yeah? Last night."

"Oh. Right."

He turned the key in its hole and pushed the door open with his knee. The familiar stench of cigarette smoke wiped them both across the face. He knew it was too early for his mom to be home and they never left the windows open when no one was home. It would be tempting from someone to reach inside and grab something if they did –not that they had something valuable in there to begin with. After barging inside he instantly made his way to the kitchen counter and started looking for a pan, leaving a confused Harleen behind to follow and shut the door.

He stormed past her, muttering on his way to the trailer's bathroom –a small room in the opposite direction of the bedroom.

"Where did it end up this time…"

Harleen pursed her lips, standing idly in the middle of the kitchen with her hands folded in front of her. Jerome turned back around on heel and stormed towards the bedroom, nearly knocking her over as he passed her by.

After a moment's hesitation, she followed inside the bedroom and found him knelt under the bunker. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the bedsheets, still stained with a bloodtrail as they had been a few days ago. The sound of him pulling something out from under the bed captured her curiosity and she approached, then slowly knelt beside him. In his hands was a thick stack of papers, all crinkled up and dusty. Harleen observed Jerome's expression as it gradually lost its spark. His face faded to a dull, monotone deadpan; the emptiest of all gazes. It was almost as if his green eyes were lifeless for a moment.

Her stare fell to the papers. Some of them looked like childhood drawings. Others had intricate linear designs on them. Jerome held a specific one up for her to see. On first glance it looked like a scribble. But if you paid attention, it would start to resemble a complex maze.

"My brother used to draw these all the time. Mom thinks she's hidden them away. She still pulls 'em out to sob about it some times, y'know, over a bottle or two." He sounded bitter. Harleen couldn't help but put a hand on his shoulder, giving him an affectionate rub.

"What happened to your brother?" She hadn't realized how heavy the question was until it was already out of her lips. Her free hand curled into a fist and she retracted the other one from his arm. Jerome blinked a couple of times. His head twitched lightly. And then he suddenly sat around and held up the paper in her face with a playful smirk.

"I'll tell 'ya…if you solve this maze."

She placed a finger on the paper as he held it up in one hand. Chipped blue nail polish added a subtle glow to her hand under the room's dim light. Her pointer finger started to trace in between the lines, instinctively picking a path in every crossing. Her lips were slightly parted as she focused on the task at hand, hesitating a bit before taking her picks. Her finger slid across the thin paper with a discreet sound, following the trail until it hit a dead end-

CHRATS!

"Ah!"

She jerked and fell back away from the paper. Jerome's cackling echoed in the wagon. Her stare fell to the pencil he'd poked though the paper, right where her finger had been. He clenched his teeth and mimicked the sound of a buzzer in a hum.

"Eek. Aw. Guess we won't find out after all."

"For real? Come on!" She jumped a bit on her knees like a stubborn child. He simply chuckled.

"A deal's a deal, dollface."

With that he got on his feet and dusted his knees off before reaching on the top bunker. He tip-toed to retrieve something. Her stare followed his hand to discover it was a small frying pan. She couldn't help but wonder how it got there in the first place, but put such worries aside to follow him into the kitchen for now. He pulled two eggs out of the fridge, set the pan on a gas stove and heated up some oil. In the meantime, Harleen had taken a seat on the small kitchen table and was counting the stains on its surface; some of them looked like wine, others like paint smudges, but most were shallow dents and scratches. It was in no good condition. Soon, the smell of hot oil and eggs filed the room and a quiet sizzling faded into the background. His voice snapped her out of her observations and she looked up to see him holding the pan with one hand over the stove. Two half cooked eggs were swimming in it.

"M'lady, may I present to you Jerome's…flying eggs! Wait for the flip, folks!" He jerked his hand, forcing the pan to jump a bit as well. Drops of hot oil landed on his bandaged hand and sizzled on the exposed skin of his arm. "Ouch!" He slowly placed the pan back on the gas stove and wiped his hand on a nearby towel. Harleen had already jumped out of her seat to rush by his side.

"Are you okay?" She took his arm, forcing his wounded hand her way. "Let me see." Instead of obliging, however, he pulled his hand away and glared daggers at her.

"…Well, aren't you gonna clap?" Harleen blinked with an empty stare. He sounded so genuinely pissed off that it wouldn't be hard to imagine him slamming her head on that stove. Her jaw hung open for a moment, until she regained her composure.

"Oh, right." She started clapping enthusiastically, jumping a bit on the spot as well. "Oh my, Jerome you're so great at this, such skill, such grace-" Jerome held a hand up to her mouth to shut her up, then performed a small bow.

"What can I say, I like to flip things." He placed a hand on her lower back, giving her a light push towards the table. She obliged to the nudge and took her seat again, pulling both her legs up on the chair and folding them. "Eggs, switches, people." He hovered over her with the pan in hand.

"Jerome, that flipper." She teased and bit her lower lip with a giggle. He cackled and bent his wrist. The eggs came sliding smoothly off of the pan into the plate, doused in oil.

Casual chit-chat like that felt refreshing. It was a moment of normality, but stripped of its dullness. Perhaps it was the subconscious knowledge that it wouldn't last forever that made it so; that reassurance that she wouldn't get stuck in an endless cycle of mechanically repeating behaviors for the sake of repetition. With extreme personalities, like Jerome, you never know what you're going to get. And that excited her, in the same way a fix excites a junkie.

She found herself wondering what their life on the run together would be like. Would their days start with precious little moments like this? Or would they stay in bed for hours, relishing in each other's warmth? She rested her head on her hand with a small swoon. Her eyelashes fluttered a bit as she watched him stuff his face with egg and bread with noisy slurps.

His emerald gaze snapped up to meet her dull hazel for a moment. He looked down at the egg left on the pan, then back at her. He cleared his throat and pointed the fork in his hand toward the egg.

"Are you gonna eat that?"

"Huh?" The question snapped her out of her thoughts. "Uh…Nah, you can h-"

He'd already dragged the pan his way. She had to settle for the slice of bread left on the table, munching on it crumb by crumb as she got lost in her daydreams again. When Jerome was done he sat back on his chair and grabbed a towel from the counter to wipe his mouth with. Harleen was still biting little pieces of bread as if she were hoping to postpone the inevitable end of their breakfast together. He started to talk again as she chewed.

"You know I was thinking about what you said…the 'up here' thing." "Being away from my mother…it's going to do me good, I know. But I feel that…if I just leave like this, the wound will still be sore. You get what I mean?"

She nodded.

"I think…I need to cut these bonds, y'know? Chop them off." He made a movement with his good head like an axe chopping wood. "I want closure." Harleen's stare sparkled a bit as she looked right into his eyes. He was squinting slightly, with his brows raised. The look seemed to convey some genuine emotion. She couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine in response to his puppy-eyes.

"It's such a big step, coming to this realization." She said softly. "Do you think you want to have a talk with her?" Jerome's eyes snapped to the floor. He brought his hands up on the table and started tangling and untangling his fingers nervously.

"I know she's not the best mother. But…" He chews on his lower lip for a moment. "I haven't been a prodigy either. You know, I never even got her a gift for Mother's day." He sounded a bit bitter, but quickly covered it up with a deep sigh. She swallowed a final crumb of bread and reached a hand out to gently place it on top of his fidgeting ones.

"Well, it's never too late." Jerome's green eyes slowly met her affectionate gaze. He drew in a short breath that made his shoulders heave.

"I just…you know, I would want this moment to mean something. The moment I give it to her, I mean. I want it to be something that would stain one's memory worse than the red on your shorts. And for that kind of thing… I'd need the right location." Her head fell to the side. She flashed him a quick smirk at the mention of her shorts.

"Wow, the way you said that…it sounded a bit morbid." She let out a small chuckle. Jerome pulled his hands away from hers, seeming offended.

"Are you feeling me at all here?" He asked sternly. The smile instantly disappeared from her expression and she started to nod, a bit panicked. The last thing she'd want would be to lose his trust. Especially when he just made this huge step right in front of her.

"Yes. Um. What if you guys went for a walk or something? Like, I don't know, maybe on the bridge or somewhere nice." She nods, trying to seem as understanding as possible. It's his closure. He deserves to have it as he envisions it.

"If I just ask her myself, though, I know she's going to shrug off the proposal. She's more likely to follow if…I don't know, she got a job offer or something." So sad to think she cares more about whoring than about her own blood, Harleen thinks. That thought…makes her blood boil. Poor, poor Jerome! "So I was thinking maybe you could tell her that someone's looking to meet her outside. Maybe hand her a note or something. Then she'll come and I'll be there to hand her a little gift; I was thinking something small, like candy and a card. People do that on Mother's day, right?"

"Yeah. Chocolates and a card sounds great."

Poor Jerome. He had such a heart of gold. Even now, he wanted to give his mother a gift. Even though she was the reason he'd burst into tears last night. Harleen's brows furrowed and a hint of a frown momentarily appeared on her features. But it dissipated quickly, because she wouldn't want Jerome to feel she pities him –even though she would guiltily admit to it.

"…Then…will you help me?"

"Always- I mean…Yes."

A second's pause, and then he jerks forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. She quickly slides her arms underneath his shoulders to hold on as his hold pulls her from her seat a little bit. Despite the horrible stench they're both emitting, his warmth puts a bright smile on her face. She can't help a small sigh. He lets go and she has to hold onto the table for support, or she'll land face first onto the floor.

"I can help you pick the gifts too…" She said quickly. He'd already gotten up to toss the pan in the small metallic kitchen sink.

"A-ha." It sounded like a yes. "Are you done?"

She looked to the small chunk of bread still left in her grip and stuffed it in her mouth, then nodded with a hum.

"Good." With that, Jerome turned around and grabbed her by both her shoulders, forcing her to turn around and face the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I got work to do."

He was nearly shoving her out of the wagon, but she still halted by the steps, grabbing the door-frame to resist his push. Curiosity drove his hand to the side of his hip, brows furrowing. Harleen turned around to face him with a smile. And then she grabbed the rim of his shirt and tiptoed to place a quick kiss on his cheek. His skin was soft, albeit carrying the strong smell of egg. She leaned in to hug him, but got a rather forceful push away.

"Ugh, sappy. Just go." He rolled his eyes and stood in a way that blocked her from stepping up to the door. It could have been a genuine rejection, or a tease. His face left it up for interpretation. "See 'ya later, toots."

With that he shut the door in her smiling face.

The wagon she shared with the other two girls didn't have a shower of its own. It lacked comfortable accommodation in general, but this was perhaps its biggest flaw; every time the girls wanted to shower they had to walk all the way to the three publicly available showers in the public toilets across the road and pay three bucks to use it. The place was right next to public restrooms, thus it usually smelled horrible until you'd poured enough shower gel to cover up the stench of piss. It also wasn't particularly clean and Harleen had developed the habit of taking a second pair of shoes with her because she hated to step on the slimy shower floor. Last, but not least, you had to deal with being naked and vulnerable in a public space.

Haly's camp was close to Crime Alley, one of the most infested areas in the entirety of Gotham. It wasn't a place you wanted to be strolling around alone, especially if you were a fragile-looking girl like Harleen. She wasn't naive, but she didn't have enough experience to realize just how dangerous walking by herself to get to the showers was. Perhaps her immaturity and thrill-seeking temperament were also playing a part in her decision to head there by herself, without letting her friends know where she'd be at.

Out of the three stalls, two were unoccupied. The middle one was pouring. She could make out pale legs underneath the door –they were a bit big. After sliding three bucks into the lock, the last stall in the row was unlocked for her and locked the door behind her with a huff.

"Motherfucker." She growled once the water was on. It was cold, as per usual. "You're not worth three bucks you stupid thing."

She would always bring her own shower gel, towel, and change of clothes. It made her even more of an obvious target.

"I know, right?" A male voice responded from the middle stall. Harleen gasped and clenched her fists; for a second there the shower's water felt boiling hot compared to her blood. Thoughts raced in her head. She was definitely not used to seeing men here and the thought of being separated by a thin wall that didn't even go all the way to the ceiling from a naked man wasn't a pleasant one. It's going to be fine. It's just a guy using the showers. She tried not to be prejudiced. But the playful touch in his voice had made it harder to do so.

"Hey, do you…" The man continued. Harleen's stare fixed on the wall in panic. Slowly, a bald head started to appear over the wall's edge. The guy only had to tip-toe in order to look at her. She blinked in shock and backed off against the opposite wall, as far away from the man's face as she could.

The first thing she noticed was that he didn't have brows. He was completely bald. His deep-set brown eyes looked tired but had a spark of smugness. There were dark circles around his eyes, but even they had a hint of redness. It came in stark contrast with his pale skin and completely shaved head. His voice was a little raspy. "…do you have any shower gel? I'm out."

Harleen looked at the little bottle in her hands, filled with bright pink, bubblegum scented soap. Despite poking his head up there while she was totally naked, the guy seemed to be invested on said bottle way more than on Harleen. He reached a hand over the wall and she reluctantly poured some gel into his open palm. Her stare snapped from the hand to the arm and she had to swallow a gasp; it was covered in thin scars that resembled razor cuts. She tried to hold back on her reactions.

"Ah, bubblegum. My favorite." He had a whiff and flashed her a drowsy grin. With that he went back to showering. Bubblegum scent filled the entire building after a few minutes. Harleen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and went back to scrubbing.

After a few seconds, he started whistling. Harleen recognized the popular tune.

"Won't you take me to Funkytown…" She mumbled back. The whistling stopped. After a fraction of a second's pause, he started to hum the tune. She took that as an invitation to continue and kept going in a bubbly manner. "Won't you take me to Funkytown...Gotta make a move to a town that's right for me! Town to keep me moving, keep me grooving with some energy!" She held the bottle in front of her mouth like a microphone. Her voice was a bit off tune, definitely not a delight to listen to. It had this high-pitched girly quality about it when she turned the volume up a bit. The stranger didn't seem to mind though. Instead, his humming got louder and eventually he joined into the singing too.

Their little choir session ended in a fit of giggles on Harleen's part. The man didn't return them.

"Hey, you're pretty good at it." She complimented him in between laughing. "What's your name?" He kept humming for a moment, as if he hadn't heard her question, but responded soon after.

"Oh right, that was a bit rude on my part. I'm Victor."

"Nice to meet 'ya, Victor. I'm Har-" She cut herself short. It would be extremely stupid to reveal her full name when her parents had probably already informed the police to look for her. They must have offered a reward too. But she didn't want to use her stage name either, because it didn't feel like her. "…I'm Harley."

"Cool name. I used to have one of those."

She furrowed her brows. It took her a while to register that he probably meant the bikes. The sound of running water on his end eventually stopped.

"Well Harley, it was nice to meet 'ya." She heard the door of his stall burst open, then some rustling as if he was looking around for something. "Hey, you don't happen to have a razor on you, do 'ya?"

The question had the hairs on the back of her neck rise. As much as she was scared, she also felt bad for his arm. He probably wanted to scar himself some more. She might have had some razor bit in her pocket, as it's always better to be prepared in these streets, but she wasn't going to look either way.

"Nah, sorry…" She reached for the shower handle to turn the intensity of her water down a little bit. "But…if you need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

Silence. Her response must have really caught him by surprise. She heard more rustling, a curse muttered under his breath and a final "See you around!" before he stormed out of the bathroom. Harleen was left alone with her thoughts –that revolved around a certain ginger for the most part.