Sebast had been in Ponce just long enough to start missing Metropolis, sleet and all. Mateo and Daniela's wedding had been lovely; she was Sebast's cousin on his mother's side, and they always kept in touch on social media. She liked to tease him about being 'my cousin, the big rock star', but Daniela was one of the few who actually listened when he said he wasn't dating Kala.
Of course, she still liked Kala, and she'd been disappointed not to see her this Christmas. Sebast winced, remembering the whole conversation three days before the wedding about how he'd walked out of the band and how he and Kala were barely speaking. Daniela had been getting her nails done at the time, and she'd messed up her polish throwing a box of tissues at him. "You better make it right, Sebastiáno. You don't treat your friends like that."
"We're making it right, Daniela, and I'm not the only one who screwed it up, by the way," he'd told her. Luckily he'd been able to turn the conversation to Mikey, who still didn't have a girlfriend, and who was complaining loudly about the internet connection speed because he was missing a raid in one of his online games. Those two things might be related, Sebast thought – maybe Mikey's expectations were too high. Not like a dark elf chick in sexy armor was going to show up at his door any time soon.
A bunch of the guys had gone down to the beach last night to drink and talk, and Sebast had brought an acoustic guitar to noodle around on. Even Diego, his third cousin who vehemently disapproved of 'the gays', tended to shut up with a reminder of Sebast's talent, and playing a few songs was an easy way to avoid the problems from six years ago. That had been an ugly one, with Sebast throwing the first punch – but Kala had been there, and she'd finished it, chasing Diego into the surf. The last Sebast had heard, people were still occasionally giving him shit about it, ending conversations by saying, 'Look out, the white girl can hit!'
Diego wasn't starting any of that crap last night. Both of the Luises were doing it for him. Luis Alejandro – who actually wasn't a relative, but his mom was a close friend of Tía Gloria and he'd grown up close as a cousin – had been the first one to ask, "Hey, Sebastiáno, if you're not with your girlfriend's band anymore, why not go solo?"
He'd sighed heavily, resisting the urge to take the bait. Why was he not surprised they were having this discussion again? "One, it's our band, not her band. Her initials just look better in graphics. Two, she's not my girlfriend and all of you already know that." It had irritated him even then to say it; Kala could have been his girlfriend, maybe should have been his girlfriend, but that was over, and everyone who failed to recognize it just pissed him off.
Luis Miguel – who was technically Sebast's first cousin once removed, but no one cared since they were close to the same age – had scoffed. "All right, fine, she's your un-girlfriend. Why don't you go solo? You've got talent, and you've got fans. You could do it."
Honestly, Sebast had never considered it. In high school, he'd set his sights on acting, but it was damn hard to make a living that way. Metropolis was better than a lot of places, and still it was far from easy. Endless cattle calls and rejections, scrabbling for any part he could get, trying to be noticed and break into stardom. Shifting his focus to music alongside Kala had given him a chance to perform when they were touring, and even if the music industry was just as hard to break into, at least he got to do what he loved while they were building their brand. And they had been discovered, gotten a contract, and hit the charts, all in relatively short time. It hadn't been his dream to start with, but seeing his name in lights was everything he'd wanted as a kid.
But it was always their band, their music, their success. Kala had sweet-talked him into a duet, back when she was singing with Fungiferous Flora, and from that moment on they'd pursued this dream together. She hadn't had to wheedle much, and honestly, he always gave her anything she asked for.
He'd even ended up giving her the one thing she never asked for, because if she'd asked for that it would've broken their friendship, and oh look, him having feelings for her and denying them had broken them up anyway.
Kala always gave him anything he asked for, too. If he'd wanted to sing solo, she would've helped make it happen. But he'd never wanted to.
Blinking, Sebast had told the guys, "I'm already in breach of contract, if I try to sign with anyone else they'll sue the shit outta me."
Luis Alejandro had shrugged. "Well, tell 'em you'll finish your contract with a solo album. Latin rock is hot right now. You could be the Goth Ricky Martin."
Jesús, what a stereotype. "I'd rather be the Goth Enrique Iglesias," Sebast had shot back, but in truth it was something to think about.
He'd already talked to Jenna, though, and he was going to return to KLK's tour the third week of January. At least, if they couldn't work together anymore, he had an option. It would be weird, trying to do this on his own, but if all else failed, lots of singers crossed into acting eventually.
If he did that, he would miss Kala's voice, the way it matched his own … but that was thinking too far ahead. He was going to do his best to fix this, repair the friendship that had been between them first, and get back their working partnership too. Kala meant so much to him, he couldn't let jealousy and missed chances ruin everything.
Now it was the day after Christmas – well, the night after the day after Christmas – and everyone was still lying around, replete with food. The baby shower for Alondra was at the end of the week, and Sebast wouldn't be going to it except they were doing a whole roast pig and he never turned down food. Mikey claimed to be craving lechón asado, and Tía Camila whom they were staying with already said she wasn't cooking that day. So Sebast and Mikey had gone out shopping the day after Christmas for baby shower gifts.
At least they had their mother's wisdom, and bought practical stuff. "She'll have more onesies than the baby will ever be able to wear before he grows out of them. Give Alondra something for her," Zynthiana had advised. Sebast was giving her an all-day spa gift card and an ultra-comfy pajama set; Mikey had bought a robot vacuum and a coffee mug. They'd dropped some serious money, even with after-Christmas sales, but Alondra was having the first grandson on the Vélez side, so everyone was going all-out.
Meanwhile Sebast had missed another baby shower: Elise's. And he might end up missing the birth of her twins. Lois and Jason and Elise had all made it clear that he was still part of the family, still welcome, but it'd be awkward if he didn't patch things up with Kala first. God, he had so much work to do; he missed her so much.
All this would've been better with Kala here. She was good at all the girly stuff, but she didn't mind sneaking off to go eat seafood or just sit on the rocks listening to the surf and drinking pitorro – moonshine, basically, since Kala hated beer. Knowing what he knew now, no wonder she had almost never shown the after-effects. Kala, she was the best of both worlds, he could sit with her by a fire on the beach and talk about life like the guys did, or go get their hair done and gossip about who was dating who like the girls did. Or steal Mikey's laptop and play games like all of them did.
Although, it would've been more awkward having her here, too, because a significant portion of his family refused to believe they weren't dating, and with the wedding and the baby shower, everyone would be nudging them. Sebast couldn't even argue with some of it; they were cute together, he and Kala did act like a couple a lot of the time, and there were more-than-friendly feelings there. Having her here with all of the get-hitched-and-make-babies vibes floating around would just put pressure on them, right when they needed to sort things out and not make it weirder.
Sebast realized, with a sinking feeling in his gut, that holidays together with his family probably weren't going to happen for a while. He doubted Red Hood would look kindly on the idea of his girlfriend going off to the islands for a week or two with some guy whose entire family kept planning their wedding. Not to mention, said guy couldn't help bristling every time he thought of Kala as someone else's girlfriend.
It was different, when she was with Marlene or Dustin. Sebast still had her, she was right there all the time, and those relationships didn't interfere with his. This with Jay Todd, it was intense enough that even if Sebast and Kala hadn't slept together and made it weird, Jay would be interfering with their time. She was really, really serious about this one, and there was no end-date in sight.
Sebast wanted to hate the guy. Problem was, Kala seemed happy. He couldn't hate anything that made her happy. He loved her too much for that. So somehow, he'd have to stamp down on this jealousy and be the friend Kala needed. Maybe now he finally knew how she'd felt when he was dating Javier.
"Mi Kala," Sebast sighed to the empty room, looking at the window. Music drifted in; it was late, even by rock star standards, and yet someone was still awake. Still drinking and dancing and playing music and eating leftovers. If Kala had been here, that would've been the two of them. Sebast had discovered he didn't like being a solo act, though, and he'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour for normal people.
Now he found himself wondering what Kala was doing. She was in Gotham for the post-Christmas week. Maybe she and Red Hood were drinking hot cocoa right about now. Or given the hour…
Sebast kicked himself out of that train of thought. No, they were superheroes. At this time of night, they were probably out fighting bad guys. He didn't have to think about Kala's sex life. She was probably way too busy being heroic…
…
Kala and Jay landed on a roof nearby, watching the new fire. Something about it made him uneasy … and then he saw the side door. Lots of places in the area were abandoned or used by squatters, and sometimes you could tell by the door whether it was occupied. A broken lock meant people were there occasionally; a brand-new lock often meant that a gang had moved in and were protecting their assets.
When a door had three new locks on it, and was painted bright purple, you knew whose gang was in residence. "Fuck, this is one of Joker's hideouts," Jay said. "K, can you see inside?"
She paused a moment, her gaze unfocused and intense before she shook her head. "I don't hear any movement or any heartbeats inside," she said distractedly, seeming to trace the length of the building. "The roof's leaded, I need to get a lower angle."
"Scratch that, I'd rather stay high for now," he said. Something about the whole situation bothered him. Was it a trap? But why would Joker set two fires this far apart? Was he trying to split them up?
Probably, Jay thought, and tensed. Everyone knew Blur was fast; maybe Joker was trying to get the two of them out here while the rest were at the first scene. "High alert, Blur, this could be a trap set for us."
She looked at him then, and the lenses in her domino were retracted, showing him her hazel eyes. "Good," Kala said, and a spark of red shone in each pupil. "Let him come."
"Stand down, Empress, we're not doing this tonight," Jay said firmly.
"You two are on your own channel," Babs said in his ear. "Everyone can hear me, other than right now, but only you can hear each other."
"Got it," Jay said. It was better to keep the Empress isolated from the rest of them; the last time she'd run into the whole family and their worries about her, she'd taken Jay somewhere in Canada to get away from them.
Silence fell between them for a moment, long enough for Jay to wonder if Kala's alter ego had gone back to sleep, before those formal tones came again. "I dislike this vermin setting his sights on you," Kala said softly.
"I'm not a huge fan either," Jay said, scanning their surroundings. They quartered around the scene carefully, looking for Joker or his minions. All they saw were a few homeless people from a nearby building checking out the blaze, and under Kala's super-powered scrutiny they proved to be unarmed with anything more dangerous than a knife. In the distance, they heard fire engine sirens approaching.
"Heads-up, all teams," Babs said a few minutes later. "I just heard from Catwoman, who heard from Poison Ivy. Harley Quinn is out tonight."
"This is her work," Jay said, feeling like he'd been sucker-punched. "Holy shit, O, it has to be! If Joker burned down his own place to catch us we would've seen him by now. She'd do it for revenge!"
"Considering you're within three miles of the address Catwoman gave me as being near their hideout, I'm thinking you're right," Babs said. "She's probably still in the area."
"Better that we find her than Joker," Jay said grimly.
His only warning was, "Let us hunt," before Kala pulled him close, then they were in the sky again.
…
Harley had slipped out with a twinge of guilt, leaving Pam asleep. She knew it would be smarter to stay in, to sleep in the safety of her lover's embrace. But damn, she was giving up enough to be free of Joker. Her city, her friends, her other lovers, her rivals, and even her family. Her daughter. Who knew how long it would be before she saw Lucy again?
It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve this. Harley knew she was basically terrible; she'd done a lot of horrible things over the years, she'd hurt people, she'd killed people, and at the time she'd reveled in it. The thrill of being with Joker was smashing all of society's rules, living in utter anarchistic freedom outside them. It was a wild, spontaneous existence, one that suited her need for an adrenaline rush … but it was also exhausting to maintain. Whenever she took a break to reflect – almost always with Pam, who let her experience a timeless sense of peace – Harley found herself with a lot of regrets.
Maybe it was fair, after all. Maybe the only way Harley could make up for the things she'd done was to sacrifice everything she knew, and try to start over someplace else. Maybe this was the price she had to pay to escape all of her misdeeds.
And maybe she could even the scales just a little bit, and offload some of that suffering onto the person who deserved it even more than she did. Without Joker, she never would've become a criminal. He was the one who'd turned her onto this crooked, dangerous path. He deserved to pay for some of it.
His hospital stay wasn't enough. She needed to make a statement, to show him she wasn't afraid of him – even though she very much was. People believed in her, she couldn't slink out of town like a coward. That'd be letting all those women down. They were kinda wrong, Harley was nobody's role model, they'd pinned their hopes on a vision of liberation that wasn't really real, but she had to try to live up to the image they had of her. And that rebellious independent woman wouldn't slip out like a thief, when Joker was hunting her all across Gotham … and she happened to know where all of his hideouts were.
Only one was really in range of their safehouse. Harley tiptoed around in as much disguise as she could manage on short notice – bundling up against the cold night with a hat pulled down over her hair and a scarf over her face took care of most of it. Still, if she was spotted, she'd be in trouble.
A piece of luck came her way, as it so often did. She spotted a tanker truck delivering gasoline. And the truck's driver was inside the store, making conversation instead of topping up the underground tanks. Perfect.
Harley snuck up alongside the truck, its bulk hiding her from everyone in the store. She had one chance at this, she couldn't waste it … and somebody up there liked her, because the passenger door was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. She fired it up and drove off. The driver was far too late to catch up to her, running out of the store yelling, and Harley accelerated with a triumphant laugh.
The sound was a little too familiar, though, and she shut her mouth, biting her lip. She had to stay focused. It was only a couple miles, not enough time for the cops to catch up to her, but she couldn't get distracted now. If she got caught, she'd end up in Arkham and then he would get her.
Still, she had to leave her mark somehow. And this was a damn good way.
The most anxiety-inducing moment was when she approached the hideout. This was one of several places she and Joker had used regularly, and one the police hadn't found yet. He tended to change locations frequently, and randomly – they might move in, stay three nights, and then move on, or they might stay holed up in the same place for a couple months. Some of the guys hated it, but Harley noticed that Joker's hideouts were rarely found by the police. Maybe his wandering ways had a purpose, after all. It was hard to tell, with Joker.
The place was shuttered and dark, but that didn't mean he wasn't currently using it. Harley drove up boldly and parked by the back door, letting the truck idle and watching through her mirror. No one came out to investigate; probably no one was there. Disappointing, in a way, because she would've been delighted to barbecue Joker as a final send-off. But this would still send a message, while being marginally safer.
It was strange, for how much she'd loved him, how readily the hate flared up. Maybe something Selina had said once was true, and hate was just the other side of love. Or maybe Harley was finally waking up. She'd been willing to die for Joker, to kill for him, and most terrifyingly to live for him … but doing so forced her to ignore or forget a lot of things. The times he hit her. The times he stole her credit for their schemes. The times he offered her to other men, like she was nothing more than a bowl of candy to be passed around. And the fact that he hadn't even noticed when she left town for six months to give birth to Lucy.
If he had noticed, he'd never asked her why she left. Or seemed to doubt that she'd return. Joker had thrown her out – through a window, even – multiple times, and never been surprised when she returned. Even in the depths of her madness, when she was convincing herself that he loved her and she needed him, the one thing Harley had been sure of was that he wouldn't love Lucy like she did. Seeing him shoot Bud was the last straw, and for a moment she'd seen her daughter lying there bleeding instead of the hyena. Nothing Harley could do would've kept Lucy safe.
She had laid in bed at night after she felt that first flutter of movement, after she saw the plus sign on the pregnancy test, trying to figure out how to tell Joker she was pregnant. Somehow, all the scenarios in her mind came out wrong. Even in the deepest denial of her life, Harley couldn't picture Joker as a good father. Or even a mediocre one. A mediocre dad would've been all right, with Harley's maternal devotion to compensate. But all Harley could envision for her child's future was pain and blood.
She'd rationalized it, like everything else, every scar on her skin or psyche. Joker was too busy, too perfectionist to put up with the struggles of parenthood. He wouldn't like being interrupted by a crying baby or a toddler's questions. And it would be hard to raise a child, with their lifestyle. Harley didn't let herself think about the obvious: if he hit her, he'd hit a child. If he played mind games with her, he'd have even more influence on the developing mind of a child.
And then, while she was still trying to figure it out, she'd failed to pay attention one day and Joker had hit her, hard, in the belly. Pain first, and the self-recrimination that always followed, but a cold blanket of fear descended on her: what if he'd hurt the baby?
That had been one of the very few times Harley had ever even thought of turning on him. Her gun was out and aimed at Joker before she knew she meant to draw it. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against the muzzle. "Go on and do it," Joker challenged, laughter in his eyes. Like he knew something she didn't.
Harley had pulled the gun away. Later, she told herself it was because she loved him and would never hurt her Puddin'. In the moment, a voice that sounded like Pam had spoken in her mind: You don't want to have your baby in Arkham. So she'd withdrawn, and he'd laughed and slapped her face and then kissed her, and that night she'd begun to make plans to sneak away.
Abortion had never occurred to her. Harley wanted this baby, she'd been filled with fierce wanting ever since she felt the first hint of movement, and the only way to keep little Lucy safe was to give her away. And the only person she could trust was Delia. That had been a whole hellacious trial, because Delia wanted to save both of them, but in the end she'd agreed to take the baby and let Harley go. She'd had a week with her daughter, long enough to make sure she got the colostrum and everything, and then she'd walked away.
And when she got the crying under control, she'd gone back to Joker, and he'd never mentioned her absence. All her elaborate plans meant nothing; he hadn't even tried to follow her. Harley had expected to be yelled out, maybe beaten, maybe even kicked out for a while – all of it would be worth it. She convinced herself she deserved it, even. Then Joker had treated her as if she'd been gone a day or two instead of six months. He'd never noticed, or never cared. Part of her had wanted to leave him again, let Delia save her, try to go live a fugitive's life … but somehow Joker sucked her back in, just like he always had, and she'd stayed. Never mind the times she woke up crying, missing her daughter. She always managed to convince herself that things with Joker were getting better…
Harley shook herself out of her reverie and focused on the present. Getting lost in the past was a good way to get killed, if Joker came back. No matter what had happened between them, she was going to have the last word in this breakup, and let the whole city know it. She didn't turn the truck off, hopping out and hurrying to the side. It had four different tanks, and four different valves. Each one was labeled with how many gallons it could hold, and what type of fuel it held. Harley ignored the premium compartment because it was only a thousand gallons; the first compartment held regular fuel, three thousand gallons of the stuff. That was plenty of gasoline.
She uncapped the valve and stood as far to one side as she could before opening it halfway. Gas started splashing out immediately, filling the air with its rich, nauseating smell. Harley ran back to the cab and jumped in, knowing the vapor was extremely flammable. One little spark, and she'd be the one getting barbecued.
Harley drove around the building, which occupied an entire block, gasoline splashing freely from the truck all the way around. When she got back to the back door again, the first fuel compartment was almost empty. No matter, she had three more.
Was that overkill? Probably. Did she care? Not at all. Harley opened the other valves and let the fuel run out, remembering all the times one of the guys had complained about this back door being set slightly below street level, and how the rain would get in. Right now gasoline was seeping under the door, soaking the carpet, and pretty soon there was going to be one hell of a fireworks show.
While the tanks drained, she went back to the cab again, and started looking for something to light it with. Matches would work, but she'd have to be way too close to get it to actually ignite. Harley had seen Joker put out a cigarette by dropping it into a puddle of gasoline; liquid gasoline didn't ignite. Gasoline vapor did, and on a cold day like this, there wouldn't be much vapor above the pools of gas on the ground. To get a fire going, she'd need to keep a flame right there at the sweet spot where the vapor mixed with the air. Trying to do that while holding a match, well, at best she'd get singed. At worst, fully roasted. The best spot was right by the open valves, where the splashing gas was agitated and the fumes were strongest, but there was too much vapor there, it'd go up much too fast. She had to figure out a way to light it without standing on top of it.
Harley had seen a small canister of gas tossed in with the fittings and spare gloves; she could stuff the gloves or a rag into the opening and make a makeshift Molotov out of it. That would stay burning long enough to get the puddles of gas to light up, and then as it burned the heat would cause more liquid gas to evaporate into flammable vapor, plus the fire would create convection that would also increase evaporation, and pretty damn quickly it would all go up in a glorious red and black fireball. Plus, she could throw the can from a safer distance.
Harley couldn't help giggling. As if there was any safe distance from something like eight thousand gallons of gasoline that she intended to set ablaze. She found a towel stuffed between the seats, and a nice Zippo lighter in the glove compartment. "Bingo," she laughed, and went to grab the canister, staying clear of the fuel pooling in the street.
The entire back half of the building was going to be one big fireball, so she hurried around the corner and stood well back from the trail of gasoline before lighting up the canister and throwing it. A perfect arc, the canister landing right into the line of spilled fuel, and Harley ran for it, trying to get another solid concrete building between her and the impending explosion. She couldn't resist looking back, though, peeking out from cover.
The towel stuffed in the neck of the canister was burning, but the gas puddled on the ground hadn't lit up. Harley frowned, wondering if it was just too cold. It still should've worked, so why wasn't it…
A flicker of gorgeous summery blue raced over the top of the pooled gasoline, and Harley had seen plenty of explosions over the years. She jerked back just in time.
The sound wasn't 'boom' or 'kabang!' or anything movies she watched as a kid would've used in their sound effects. It was more of a fwomp, all the air rushing toward the explosion, and then a hot sour wind blasted back, along with the sound of windows and doors shattering. Harley laughed out loud, raising both middle fingers toward the fire. "Fuck you, Mistah J!" she yelled, and it was the best feeling she'd had in years. Wild, exhilarating joy soared through her.
And then she heard sirens in the distance. Maybe not even heading this way, not yet, Gotham's emergency services were rarely that fast. But it was a reminder that the firefighters and cops would be coming, and if they caught up with her, she might as well try for suicide by cop. It'd be better than what Joker would do to her.
Harley suddenly realized that her great plan was missing one crucial component: a getaway. She was on foot, a couple miles from safety, and the best place to hijack a car was the gas station she'd just put on high alert. Cursing under her breath, Harley started running; she'd have to slow to a walk soon, a running person was always suspicious, but she had to get some distance between her and the fire quickly. Even worse, a woman walking alone on this side of town was also suspicious. She'd really, really fucked this up…
…
They were hunting Harley, but this could still wind up as a trap. Joker was hunting her, too, and if he knew about the hideout burning, he'd want her head on a pike. Kala knew that, but she couldn't let herself think too hard about it.
Every time she thought about Joker lately, the Empress woke in the base of her brain, and it would've been all too easy to let her rise. Kala kept a stranglehold on her alter ego, especially around Jay, but the moment they'd thought the fire was a trap specifically for them, the Empress was in the forefront of her mind, ready to put a very final end to that particular nightmare. Kala couldn't help remembering the moment she'd looked into his eyes and found nothing human there, even less recognition than Poison Ivy. There was still some of Dr. Pamela Isley left, or Selina wouldn't be so devoted to both of her friends. Kala knew she shouldn't let Selina's friendships color her opinion of the two criminals, but she couldn't help it. Mom and Dad knew Selina, and liked her; Kala herself liked Selina. Catwoman was a good judge of character, and she'd risked her life just to say goodbye to them both. If there was something in Harley and Ivy that she could love, then the two of them might have a chance at redemption.
But Joker? Whoever he'd been before this was gone. He'd been the one who turned Dr. Quinzel into his harlequin. Kala knew just enough of Harley's story to shudder. She had the Empress mostly under control, but she knew what it was like to be pushed to your limits by a master manipulator. Dru-Zod had tried to mold her, not as violently as Joker had molded Harley, but they'd both been under the sway of men who saw them only for what they could be made into. And Kala still carried the fractured soul of who General Zod had wanted her to be.
The more she heard about Harley, especially Selina's protectiveness and passionate defense, the more Kala could empathize. And she'd always been ecologically-minded enough to sympathize with Ivy. It didn't change the fact that they had almost gotten the zookeeper killed, or that Ivy had tried to control Kala herself. Just because Catwoman trusted them was no reason to think they wouldn't hurt the Blur, maybe even kill her, if they could. They were dangerous.
Joker was much more dangerous, and not just to them. The threat was blatant; if he caught Harley, she'd die the kind of death that even seasoned cops whispered about. Kala wanted to find her, and quickly. Before he did.
She needed a cooler mind for that, and the Empress retreated, still ready to surge forth at the first hint of a maniacal laugh. Holding Jay close, Kala began to fly in widening circles, looking down at the few people out and about at this hour.
"Harley's smart enough not to be running," Jay said, scanning the streets with her. "Check everyone. Shit, did you double-check those homeless people?"
"All men," Kala said absently, sounding more like herself this time and she felt Jay relax slightly. She squeezed his hand briefly in reassurance before refocusing. They flew over a person sleeping in a doorway, not yet awakened by the blaze or the sirens.
"How can you tell?" Jay asked.
"X-ray vision," Kala said, looking beneath the layers of blankets and coats. The person below had the narrow shoulders and broader hips of a woman, but she was too old to be Harley, even in disguise, and her face wasn't even close. Kala flew on.
"Please tell me you're not just checking everyone's underwear," Jay said.
If the Empress hadn't gone quietly, God knows what response that would have gotten. She cut him a glare, herself unamused. "Anatomical markers, Jay. With practice you can tell a male skeleton from a female one at a glance. That's what I'm looking at. Then age, face shape, skin tone – I know Harley could be wearing makeup, but I doubt she'd cover everything."
"Gotcha, keep at it," Jay said. Asshole. Kala elbowed him slightly; she wasn't a fucking rookie, for God's sake. That said, it really should have been a given after that little cameo by her darker half. They were both tense, justifiably so, and this was just his way of dealing with it.
Over the comm, Batman said he had the Batmobile and was trying to locate Joker, leaving the second fire to them for the moment. That was fine by Kala. If Bruce found him, Joker would live through the night, but Harley would get away. If Joker was closer to them, he might find Harley first. She couldn't let that happen. Supers didn't play executioner; not even her, not without knowing the crimes firsthand. No matter what Harley had done, she didn't deserve what he would do to her. No one did.
Kala wanted to push the speed, to fly faster, but then she risked overshooting her target. She was still flying fast enough for the cold air to press hard against her exposed face, slowing a little every time she spotted someone below. She saw more people, three men standing around a car, and it looked like a drug deal – but tonight that wasn't her problem.
And then, a woman walking briskly by herself, with her hands in her pockets and a scarf wrapped around her face against the chill. Kala didn't know Harley well enough to recognize her by gait alone, so she slowed, and looked closer. A hat covered the woman's hair, but that was no barrier to Kala's sight … and the hair was white-blonde.
Kala stopped, hovering, and Jay looked down too. The woman wore a coat over a sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, and Kala felt a twinge at the impropriety of looking beneath her clothing. Her skin was unnaturally white … except where fading bruises colored it yellow and green. A chill passed over her then; no going back now, they would have to play this to the conclusion, for good or ill. "It's her," she whispered, and checked for weapons.
A big damn revolver, .357 magnum at least, and a couple knives, plus a weighted sap in one pocket which Harley was clutching tightly in her left hand. Her right was on the butt of the gun.
"Jesus fuck, we got her," Jay murmured, sounding surprised and relieved and wary all at the same time.
Still with mixed feelings over what would come next, Kala tried to distance herself and lock down. "She's armed, her hand is on the gun," Kala told him, sounding more sure than she truly was. "Let me take her."
He nodded. "Go, I'll back you up."
Then speed, speed, dropping Jay behind the target and rushing up on Harley too fast for her to see, too fast for her to turn at the sound of Jay's boots on the pavement. Control the gun first, Kala's hand diving into her pocket, angling the muzzle away from Harley's own leg. She tried to draw it, her heart leaping to jack-hammer speed, and Kala let her get it clear of the coat before covering Harley's hand with her other one and pulling her fingers off the grip, gentle even in her haste. Kala danced back out of sap range, pushing the cylinder out and shaking the rounds free. With the revolver – a design she'd never seen before, heavily embellished – unloaded, Kala tossed it to Jay, calling out, "Hood, catch!"
And then she dove back in, catching a glimpse of Harley's terrified eyes and steeling herself against pity. Kala dodged the swing of the sap and pulled every knife she could see, flinging them across the road out of reach. Another swing of the sap, and Kala caught Harley's wrist, taking it from her and tossing that last defense aside.
It didn't mean Harley was giving up, though. She drove a desperate punch at Kala's throat, forcing her to dodge without releasing Harley's arm. It was unfortunate that she'd come into this primed for compassion, seeing weapons as defenses, because Kala didn't want to handle her as roughly as, say, the drug dealer Eggs. Her sympathy let Harley get a hand on her shoulder, and then she kicked up into Kala's belly as hard as she could.
Which, given the uniform and her invulnerability, just made Harley take a gasping breath of pain as she bruised the hell out of her shin. "What the fuck, what kind of armor is that?" she hissed, hopping on one foot.
Kala still held her wrist, trying to look her in the eye. The trapped, frantic element in her attack just made her even more uneasy. "Then don't do it again. I don't want to hurt you; that's not what we're to do. Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Harleen," she warned.
Rage flared in those wide, frightened eyes, and Harley swung at her face, Kala catching her fist just an inch away from her mouth. "Fuck you, new kid, I don't know your name, you got no right to use mine!"
Kala's uncertain feelings, frustration and anger and empathy, roared over her then, snapping back at her when she spoke. This was just too familiar, in a way. "Hey, if you don't want to be his anymore, you need to take your self back," Kala told her, trying to steady her.
"Oh fuck off, what do you know about it?" Harley snarled, but there were tears in her eyes.
That reaction, in all defiance of what anyone expected from Harley Quinn, stalled her. The despair there hit like a suckerpunch, the hopelessness, the hunted look in her eyes. So familiar. Kala stopped then, not fighting, just holding her still, and behind Harley, Jay stopped his careful advance. "More than you'd think," Kala said quietly.
There was an instant where she thought she might've gotten through, might have made a fragile connection, and then Harley shut it down with fury rising in her gaze. "Boo hoo, we've all got a sob story, join the fuckin' club," Harley snapped, and planted one foot into Kala's hip to try and kick herself loose.
She'd dislocate her shoulders before she did that, and Kala let go only to grab her elbows and pull them behind her. "Can't hurt me with that, Doctor Quinzel. You've got a right to your sob story. Just settle down; we don't want you to get hurt and if you keep doing that, you could be, whether I want to or not."
"Spare me the fuckin' goody-two-shoes pity-party," Harley shot back, still fighting tears. "I'd rather you just break my arms."
Kala gave her a slight shake, losing her temper a little. "I don't want to find your body tomorrow morning. Don't you understand that? None of us want to find you dead, Harley! Not from him, not like this! Joker's out there right now, there's another fire across town where he burned your initials into a school. Joker's out here somewhere moving around, looking for you, and I don't want to have to look Catwoman in the eye and tell her I saw your corpse."
"So great, whaddya gonna do now, take me in?" Harley laughed at that, the wild escalating laugh ringing off the empty buildings. "That'll be great, I'll be in Arkham right where he expects me – or Gordon'll stuff me in County lockup with a whole bunch of people who know Joker's got a price on my head. Yeah, that's good, Blur. Take me in, you might as well sign my death certificate yourself."
She was right; Kala knew in her heart she was right. "We're not taking you back to Arkham," Kala said, feeling panic burble in her chest. She looked at Jay, trying to communicate how torn she felt. There were no easy answers here.
He scowled beneath the helmet. "Batman's got a cell in the cave," he said.
Harley scoffed. "Aww, how sweet, Batsy's branching out. From vigilantism to kidnapping and imprisonment. So he's gonna hold my hand for his girlfriend's sake, right? That's adorable. Lemme ask you this, though, how long's he gonna keep me locked up? In solitary, mind you, which is inhumane."
Kala just looked at Jay, her stomach sinking. It had seemed like the best of a bad bunch of options when Bruce said it that morning, but how long would it go on? How long could he keep her locked up in a literal cave, trying to catch the person who wanted to kill her? How long before Harley broke out, or went even crazier in confinement?
Harley continued, "And when you do catch Joker, what're you gonna do with me? You won't let me go, I'm much too dangerous for that. So what then, you hand me off to the cops, and I land right back in Arkham – just down the hall from my ex."
Jay looked down, then met Kala's eyes, his own troubled. All she could say was, "He nailed a dead cat to Selina's door…"
"Yeah, what he'll do to me is gonna make that look like kiddie stuff," Harley said, her tone harsh. "Listen, you wanna do me a favor, just kill me yourselves, all right? Hoodie, I know you know how. At least it'll be quick."
"No," Kala told her vehemently. "That's not how we do things."
But what the fuck else were they supposed to do? If Harley had stayed quiet, no one would've known where she was, she could've gotten away. Even Bruce said that she might be able to redeem herself, if she was with Pam. Maybe they could both get out, and not be a danger to the public.
If they brought her in, she was as good as dead, sooner or later. And that would be Harley's blood on their hands. Could either of them live with that?
Kala looked at Jay with stricken eyes, and he touched the comm embedded in his helmet. "Oracle, you still got us on our own channel?"
A pause, and then Babs' digitized voice said, "Hood, Blur, I'm not hearing your audio. There's interference in the area. Are you still searching?"
That hit Kala like a sucker punch. It was far too conveniently timed, Babs had to hear them … and she was letting them know she'd back them up, whatever they decided. Babs was going to cover for them, destroying this recording.
Kala took a deep breath, and let it out. They were doing this; it had to be now. "When's your flight?" she asked.
Harley twisted around to look at her in shock. "What?"
"When's your flight, Harley?" Jay said. "If you stay in Gotham, you're dead. So if we don't wanna find you tomorrow, we gotta keep you safe until that plane takes off."
Letting go of her arms, Kala made herself step back, and Harley stared at her in bewilderment. "What is this, some kinda game? You think if you say you're letting me go, I'll lead you to Pam? Because fuck that, I've brought enough trouble into her life already." Her voice was rising in suspicion and fear.
"No, we're letting you go because you're trying to do the right thing in all of this," Kala said, keeping her tone gentle. "Catwoman vouched for you in this. It doesn't wipe your ledger clean, and we'll be watching the news feeds to make sure you don't make waves, but … Joker is a much bigger monster that has to be stopped. You made your break with him, stopped all activties, then lashed out. He's going to keep coming if you stay. But if you and Ivy are gone, we can focus on finishing what you started. Please, Harleen, get out of here."
She looked back and forth between them, her eyes widening. "Holy fuck, you really mean it, you're gonna scrub him right under Batsy's nose? Damn, Hood, bet he won't invite you over for dinner after that!"
"The fucker beat me to death with a goddamn crowbar, I think I'm entitled," Jay said dryly. "Besides, I told Batman I wouldn't hunt him down, but if he crosses my path, he's history. Can't say he wasn't warned."
Harley laughed again, still with an edge of hysteria in it. "Shit, you're about the only one I wouldn't be pissed at for that. Go on and do him dirty, Hood. He deserves it. I was never cool with killin' kids. Never kids." There was a flinty look in her eyes then, sharp rage, before she glanced between them, then deliberately lightened her expression and grinned at Kala. "I'm the one who called in the tip-off about the venom in the sprinklers, this past summer. Which, if I'd known your speedy ass was around, I might've steered a lot clearer. You ever wake up hog-tied with a pissed-off hyena in your lap? It ain't fun."
"It was your hyena, and you tried to brain me for it later. Not to mention, set me up for Ivy, and I'm still pissed about that," Kala said, letting an edge of her anger creep into her voice again. It shut Harley down immediately, her eyes going round as she took a step back. "That said, I'm just not pissed enough to want you maimed or even dead. Enough is enough. Run, Doctor Quinzel. Make that flight. Get the hell out of Gotham, take Ivy with you, and stay gone. Nobody deserves what he's planning."
"Girl, whatever it is, it's worse than you can imagine," Harley said, taking another step back and eyeing her escape route.
"Harley," Jay said, and her attention snapped to him. He held up her gun, and tossed it to her. "Keep this. I'm a Glock guy."
She caught the unloaded revolver with a fleeting grin, glanced at the bullets and knives scattered across the road, then turned and ran.
Kala let out the breath she'd been holding, watching her go with her chest tight. That had stirred up a few too many ghosts, looking deep into a dark mirror she knew too well. Maybe in this, she had set a little part of the shattered girl in her mind free. A little shiver ran through her at that thought. "Maybe we shouldn't have given her back the gun."
"Yeah? You wanna get caught with it? Makes lying to Batman a whole lot harder," Jay said. "It's unloaded, anyway."
He looked at her seriously, and Kala steadied under it. She knew what he was thinking – they'd just said it out loud, with Babs listening in, and in front of Harley. "You get to kill him, I'll make sure there's no body to find," she said, and the words were final and cold on her tongue. With that said, the pact completed, here and moments after letting the Joker's endlessly-abused right-hand go with her own life. Another shiver ran through her, fighting a sudden feeling of doom before forcing it away. It was necessary and too-long coming. She could look at her conscience later, when it was all over, before anyone else could know. To distract herself, she set about kicking the bullets and knives into the gutter drain, getting rid of the evidence.
"You know what you're saying, K?" Jay asked her gently, kicking the sap into the drain on his side. "This is premeditated murder we're talking about."
He was right; there was no running from it, pretending she didn't mean every word. There was only one regret Kala could possibly have over it, but this wouldn't even set the precedent. What was one more monster? Looking up to meet his gaze, she sighed heavily. "Someone has to stop him and we both know that B won't, he never will. No more deaths; it's gone on too long, Jay. Harley just gave you her blessing. I told you all along, I'll back you up. I worry what my father would think; he won't like it, I know he won't, but under the circumstances I think he would understand. We're going to have to be the ones to do this or no one will."
Jay just nodded, and the weighty moment passed. Both of their comms crackled, Babs saying, "Hood, Blur, where are you? I'm not reading either of you."
And then Bruce's voice, "Give me their last known location." Kala remembered Oracle had pulled their voices onto a separate channel, but they could still hear the main if she wanted them to.
"Get us up," Jay said, reaching for her, and without a word Kala soared up and out, quartering away from the direction Harley had run to land them on a rooftop. Jay tapped his helmet again, and said, "Oracle, can you read us? I lost you for a minute there – we landed to check a door that looked forced."
"You must've gone into a Faraday cage, I lost your signals," Babs said, sounding relieved. "Any sign of Harley?"
"No, no luck there," Jay said, as easily as if it were the truth. Kala let out a slow, relieved breath; she hadn't even realized she had been holding it. "She might've timed the explosion somehow, and slipped away. Or stolen another car. We're still flying a search pattern."
"I'm on my way," Bruce said, and Kala looked into Jay's eyes despite the helmet.
He just nodded. "We're doing the best we can," he said, to her and over the comm. "Sometimes, even the bad guys get lucky."
Kala gave a slight shrug, still fighting the conflicting feelings in her heart, still trying to make peace with what had happened tonight. She'd just let a criminal – a known murderer, clinically insane – go free. But what other choice did she have? "Jay, you'd better text Selina and let her know we couldn't find Harley," she said aloud, proud of all those theater classes. The trick was making herself believe the lie for a moment, long enough to let it come out sounding like truth. "She can at least let Ivy know."
He nodded, and pulled out his phone to do so, Kala turning to look through the buildings. Harley had stopped running to hotwire a car parked in a lot just off the main road. The way she looked over her shoulder, as if expecting them to take it back and haul her in, plucked at Kala's heart. Justice is nothing if not tempered by mercy, was one of Jor-El's sayings, and on Krypton they'd thought mercy was the Phantom Zone instead of death.
Kala could only hope that her own merciful decision didn't have any such dangerous repercussions. One way or another, whatever Harley did from now on, Kala would be complicit in it.