The moment Celine positioned herself on the first step of the stairs it was sensory overload galore. Her skin broke out into goosebumps and she was briefly lost in the mesmerizing back and forth sway of the leaves rustling all around her. Every color her eyes located was a more vibrant hue of itself. It was still too early in the trip for everything to resemble a Van Gogh painting, but at the rate these shrooms were hitting, it wouldn't take long.
Her lips were peeled back in a smile that on any other occasion would made her mouth ache. She felt overflowing with optimism and jubilance. A part of her had been sorely tempted to ask Joker if he wanted to do the disco boogie, but she didn't dare push it when she'd just been able to reel him back into an amicable mood.
I wonder if he'd let me paint him.
She made her way down one step at a time.
Not his face…that's been covered up for faaaaaaar too long. His shoulders. His chest. His back. His abdomen. That's maybe why I got the acrylics. So he can see himself reinterpreted. After all a canvas-
Mid-thought, her foot sunk through the rotten board she'd warned Joker about earlier. And so preoccupied with her stream of consciousness was she that by the time she noticed what had happened, it was far too late. Her fingers slackened around the rope and gravity did the rest, depositing her ten feet onto the solid ground beneath her.
Immediately, all the breath escaped her lungs. An ache shot through her shoulder blades and tailbone. One hand went to cup the back of her skull.
Joker had been only a couple steps above her, but the moment he heard her collide with the ground, he leaped off the step he was on and landed a few feet beside her. What looked suspiciously like concern briefly overcame his features before his expression went neutral.
He leaned down next to her on the balls of his feet, cocking his head, perusing her for any visible injuries.
Her head lolled to the side, a crooked grin making way for the groan she meant to emit.
"Ouchie," she murmured, fascinated by the hints of amber twinkling in his eyes. "I meant to do that."
"Mm…yeah?" He lapped at his scars. "Thought you already proved to me when you were my hostage that bunnies can't fly."
She chuckled, offering him a half shrug.
"Worth another attempt."
He offered her an arm and she graciously let him pull her to her feet, shaking her hair free of all dirt and leaves.
Woaaah.
Standing up was more of an adventure than she anticipated. The gravity anchoring her to the earth felt as if an extra twenty pounds had been added to it. She knew that wasn't the case, but her body reacted accordingly, tingling to the point of titillation each time she tried moving a limb, finger or muscle.
Ooo hoo hoo…yeah buddy! The trip is officially commencing. Attention nervous system, this is your pilot speaking, keep all arms and legs inside the vehicle or risk…certain doom!
She bit her lip to keep it from quivering.
One of Joker's hands lingered at the base of her spine. He studied her through a squint.
"Think it-ah best you walk ahead of me, hm?"
She staggered a little, trying to find her center of balance.
"No arguments here, captain."
She offered him a hearty salute before making her way back onto the trail. There were technically more by the treehouse that forked their way deeper into the woods, but her feet were insistent on taking the route back to the house. Her concentration wasn't as sharp with Joker being here…he was far too alluring of a distraction. It wouldn't do returning maimed or paralyzed.
Her back ached from her third tumble in two days, but just as quickly she refocused her attention onto the trail.
This time around – with a near laser precision - she was able to detect that which she'd not caught the first time on their hike. Primarily a healthy variety of fungus growing out of the ground, protruding from some trees, and out of decaying logs.
"That's the birch polypore," she mentioned, stopping near a tree that had a diagonal amount scattered upward. "If you're ever short on supplies to build a fire, it can be used as tinder. Allegedly when Otzi the Iceman was discovered he had this species on him…they think as a means of killing whipworm."
Her attention was soon drawn to a bouquet of orange caps with reddish gills swelling out of a massive oak tree. Joker kept up with her excited sprint toward it.
"Orange mycena," she noted, kneeling a little so she could see the underside of the caps. "Very, very, very bad ones to eat. They're carcinogenic and harmful to animal cells."
The gills looked like they were billowing, causing Celine's mouth to pop open in wonder. Why is it in all the years she'd tripped on magic mushrooms had she never actually taken the time to closely observe all the fungus native to her neck of the woods. They were absolutely fascinating in this state…and she swore putting her ear up to them, she could hear them growing.
Joker watched her skip a few feet ahead, smacking at a few mosquitoes that'd decided to make their presence known.
"I think…I think." She got down on her knees, studying the bright yellow caps and stems with splotches of red intermixed. "These are the chicken fat mushrooms…slippery caps some call them because of the slime on the caps. They are edible! Mom mixed them into a spread one autumn…didn't care for it honestly…but it was good to know they're edible. Just in case you find yourself lost."
She glanced at Joker, immediately fighting back a smile. He was busy fending off a swarm of mosquitoes that apparently had a thirst for clown blood. And by the looks of it, they were winning.
Difficult to win against an enemy you can't easily shoot, intimidate, or stab.
"You stay right there," she exclaimed, shooting up to her feet. "I'll be right back!"
She dove off the trail in between a few bushes and trees, bare feet pounding over the dirt, doing her best to avoid stepping on any critters in her path.
Before Joker could break free of the swarm and follow, she had returned. With a grin, she extended to him a large fern attached to a leaf stalk. What looked to be the last of the swarm ended up splattered by Joker's palm against his shoulder.
He glared at the fern, frown deepening as sweat gathered at the nape of his neck.
Just a small town girl…living in a lonely world. Took the midnight train going aaaaaaanywhere. That's me! Just a city boy (that's Jack!) born in raised in south…ummm probably not Detroit? He took the midnight train goooooing annnnyyywheeeeere.
She was practically bouncing up on the soles of her feet, gesturing for him to take the fern.
When he again refused, she realized – not for the first time - just how out of his element he was. And amidst this realization, something unforeseen happened.
In her sensitive, ultra-heightened state, she was beginning to feel spurts of Joker's…lifeforce? She wasn't all too sure what to call it, having never experienced anything like it before. His soul was encrusted with a tar-like armor of negative vibrations…that much she felt, that much she had witnessed.
But every so often – if her concentration was precise enough – she could sense that tar ripple and fluctuate, and in certain spots, spread so thinly that her own lifeforce briefly penetrated the black tar and connected to a miniscule section of his unblemished soul.
Her body nearly convulsed when this happened, eyes fluttering shut; and for a few seconds, images that weren't her own bombarded her psyche.
Suburbs. No…outskirts of a small city. Poor side of it. Houses that are on their way to being blight infested. Chain link fences…you have to drive a half hour north to reach the nearest green space…a small park in a rich community. The wealth gap here is staggering, but not all that widely discussed.
Just as quickly, the images vanished, and her eyes popped open; the connection to his soul severed once more by the tar.
Holy shit balls …did I just…see where he grew up? Is that…possible?
She peered at him closely, everything around him temporarily disappearing.
We…are soulmates. And his energy…potent…magnetic. Given his significance, it's entirely possible that the longer we spend with each other the easier it is to establish a connection, especially the more attuned I become with my higher self. Though…what I'll see or feel when it's established…I don't know if that can be controlled.
This experience briefly sobered her up; their environment falling back into place.
I could ask him…just to be sure.
Her intuition immediately advised against this.
You may think asking him is harmless, but at this current moment it would only breed suspicion and mistrust. He's gone to excruciating measures erasing that self out of existence…as well as any breadcrumbs that could trace back to it…your knowledge of such intimate details…revealing them now wouldn't be wise.
She accepted this advice easily enough. After all, how would she even go about explaining her knowledge of these private details? Hey Jack, guess what, we're soulmates and I've been able to tune in to your energy and card through bits and pieces of your life like a roll of film? Let's talk about your childhood, from what I've glimpsed and sensed, it wasn't all that spectacular.
Grimacing, she internally agreed. Now wasn't the time.
When her gaze dropped to her hand, she was reminded why it was extended to begin with.
Obnoxious blood suckers. Vindictive pests that belong in the graveyard of a spider's web.
"It'll help with the mosquitoes," she explained, swishing the fern around her body. "Think of it as a swatter. Native American tribes occasionally used them for this purpose, among others."
He made no attempt to take it from her, studying her sharply. Tuning out the way she had had apparently piqued his interest, and she could practically see the wheels turning, trying to figure out if it was done soberly or drug induced.
Good luck-a-rino, buddy! I can barely keep track of myself.
All the tingles rushed back at neck-breaking speed. The urge to giggle couldn't be ignored. And she'd have indulged if not for noticing movement a few yards behind him.
"No way," she murmured, so very tempted to take a step forward but not wanting to spook the creature. "Carefully, look behind you."
Joker was much more receptive to this request, only because he hated the feeling of being caught off guard. Slowly, he turned around.
A gorgeous, medium-sized red fox had wandered onto the trail a considerable distance behind them. Its snout was currently buried into a lowbush of ripened blueberries, attempting to sniff something out.
Celine couldn't help herself. She crept as stealthily as possible to Joker's side, enamored with the scene before her. Foxes weren't uncommon to stumble across, but rare was it that a healthy one would hover in an area long enough to be comfortably examined. She guessed it hadn't yet detected their presence, and if it had, figured there was enough distance between them not to feel threatened.
"Marvelous, isn't it?" she whispered, pausing at Joker's side. "It's like a bushy little flame. Have you seen one in person before?"
"Can't say I have." He peered down at her. "Want me to kill it for you? Take it to a taxidermist…that-a way you can keep it forever."
She was affronted.
"Absolutely not…that would be so, so selfish. Killing something that majestic for the sake of a souvenir."
When he didn't respond, she looked up.
Oh!
One hand reached out and took his, squeezing it softly.
"But thank you…I appreciate the offer."
He mumbled something unintelligible, glaring at the fox through narrowed lids.
"Can't kill birds, can't kill foxes…thought you wanted me to enjoy myself out here."
"Is harming something the only way you can do that?"
"Mm…no. But it ah certainly helps."
Almost as if it sensed Joker's threat, the fox retracted its snout and shot into a thicket of vegetation. They could hear its feet scampering over leaves until there was near silence once more.
Sighing, Celine stared longingly at the blueberries.
"I guess I can't blame it," she said. "Probably figured out it was in the company of a more dangerous predator."
"Little ole me?" He batted his eyes with no shortage of dramatics. "Whyyyy I'm as harmless as a cucumber."
She briefly envisioned Joker's head screwed onto a cucumber's body. Both hands flew to her mouth, trying but failing to halt an onslaught of giggles. Especially when Joker's head began issuing threats.
"Get me Batsy!"
"Kill the Crow!"
"I said EXTRA mustard you dense bastard!"
A part of her desperately wished for him to join her in this state. This state of…of…infinite amusement. Where she was tickled by anything and everything. Where the more absurd the thought, the less tame the laughter. And the less tame the laughter, the greater the desire to jump ship from reality and let the wind carry you to where it wills.
Peering up at Joker, she tilted her head.
"Might I ask you something?"
His scars twitched; eyes fixed on her oscillating smile.
"Gotta say…you wanting my permission is cute. A guy could get used to that." He ruffled her hair again, grinning when her hands tried to bat his away. "Ask away."
She bit the corner of her lip, trying to ignore the fact that even through her annoyance it was still nice to have physical contact with him.
"Do you…do you ever get nervous meeting with mob bosses? Or someone that you know wants you dead?"
His answer was instantaneous.
"Nope."
"No? Not even if you're weaponless?"
"Mmm…what can I say, I'm a creative guy. Anything can be fashioned into a weapon with the right…ambition. Confidence is key…real confidence, not the kind guns give you the illusion of having. If you're confident all because you got a gun, you're no more confident than a mousey hiding behind a lion. And really…it's all a matter of…perspective."
She swayed a little, nearly closing her eyes. The certainty with which he spoke…the low rumble in his tone like a wave of horses galloping across a prairie…she wanted that voice to cocoon her until no other sound could breach it.
"How's that?" she managed to reply, hypnotized by his gaze.
"I don't think of it as I'm going to be in a room with all my enemies." His eyes held so much animation in them, beckoning her to waltz together to a manic tune. "Rather…all my enemies are going to be in one room…"
"With you," she finished.
"With me," he agreed, smirking proudly. "You look at it that way and poof! the nerves desert ya like they were never even there. And mine haven't been around in loooong over a decade"
She soaked this in, unconsciously rubbing her palms against each other.
"You're so…so…" Every word that came to mind failed to do him justice. "Fascinating. I… I think you're one of the most fascinating people I've ever come across. Yes, yes…impulsive, cruel, apathetic…but fascinating beyond most people's comprehension."
His frown surprised her.
"Not a fan of liars, Cece."
She shook her head, mouth forming around a stampede of words seeking to get through. Her hands were gesturing in circular motions without her realizing. It suddenly was of great importance that he understood where she was coming from.
"Jack…I…this isn't a state I'm capable of lying in. I'm…tuning in to my highest self…and that self doesn't lie, not to you, and certainly not to me."
He was eying her with no shortage of disbelief.
"Hmm, that so? Mind telling me then who Batman really is."
She met his eyes…nebula, his eyes…they were the liveliest part of him, no matter the emotion experienced. Like a separate him entirely. And in a sense, this was the truth, for behind them existed another layer of his corporeal being. Someone she in this moment wanted nothing more than to lasso out and introduce herself to.
"What um…makes you…think I know?"
Being present in this conversation was becoming increasingly difficult. Each time she blinked, she found more colors to focus on. And they weren't necessarily connected to anything in her environment, nothing that held physical form that is. Almost as if she were conjuring them out of the blue…thin, weaving little lines…pretty little lines that appeared to enjoy meandering around Joker's form. Her fingers without her realizing right away were tracing invisible patterns along the sides of her thighs.
"Simple." His voice brought her back to reality. "My hostages and I tend to have a tad more…mmm…privacy with each other before Batsy comes knocking on my door. You on the other hand he saved in record time. Don't think even that lawyer he had a soft spot for…oh what was her name-."
He was tapping at his chin.
"Rachel," she said softly.
"Ah! That's the one. Don't even think she was that lucky."
Thinking of Rachel did something very unpleasant to her. Something that threatened the positive direction her trip had been propelling toward.
Oh Rachel…Rachel, Rachel, Rachel…Harvey listened to her die…Bruce couldn't get to her in time…and I'm kissing and hugging her murderer.
The tears came without warning. She felt as if she were a balloon someone managed to snatch by the mouthpiece and jab a needle into.
Bringing her knuckles to her mouth, she bit down. Both eyes squeezed shut.
Process it…process it. I am not a bad person for showing Jack mercy. I am not a bad person for doing what comes naturally to me…love, compassion, understanding. I couldn't prevent what happened to Rachel…I didn't even know her at the time. But…but…I can do my best now. My very best.
She sniffled, dropping her hand from her teeth.
I am capable. Not of changing the past but influencing the future. And I do that by being present now.
A shaky breath exited her. She wiped the remaining tears away before slowly opening her eyes.
Lead with love, lead with love.
"S-sorry," she stuttered out, "I didn't know that would hit so hard."
"Lemme guess-." His tone was scathing. "-you're reminding yourself what a bad, bad, bad man I am, hm? Apathetic, immoral Joker, killing "innocents" and wreaking havoc."
"That's not-." She sighed. "That's not all you are. I wouldn't be here…I wouldn't waste my energy on you if that's all there was to you. You're my-."
Soulmate she longed to say.
"-companion. And…I…choose to be here with you."
His true feelings were physically closed off to her, but energy-wise they burst from him like water through cracks in a dam.
Skepticism. Aggravation. Denial.
Seconds passed of silence on his end, his frown deepening the longer he contemplated whatever was on his mind.
"A mouthy clown once told me," she reminded, trying to mimic his voice, "you're thinking far too much. Knock it off and let what's happening, happen. Ringing any bells there, mon cheri?"
Her playful tone helped ease some of the tension out of his shoulders. She took a step back and glanced at what was left of the trail.
"Look…you can either fuss over my statement for the remainder of this absolutely beautiful day, or you can bask in this moment with me."
With that, she continued on her stroll, humming a little as her hands wove up and down like they were rafts on a particularly curvy river.
Only when she was nearly out of view did Joker finally make an attempt to catch up.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
She halted, causing Joker to grind to a last second stop.
Smiling crookedly, she turned and looked up.
"There's a janky video store in the heart of the Narrows called Marvin's Matinee. Stop by after five o'clock and ask for an employee by the name of Grant Fowler. You'll know it's him if he has one eyebrow missing and looks like he could be a bouncer at a night club. That-." She tapped the side of her nose. "-is Batman."
His brows furrowed.
"You're lying."
"See how instantaneously you knew that? Please…keep that in mind next time you accuse me of it, okay?"
She offered his bicep a quick squeeze before resuming her pace.
x_X_x_X_x
By the time they reached the house, Celine had accumulated an impressive amount of flowers. She'd done her best to pick only those that'd already been severed from their stalk or uprooted, most likely by a devious rodent.
A flower crown she kept mentally chanting, me thinks a flower crown is in order.
She'd never constructed one before but believed she could figure out the logistics after a quick scavenge around the perimeters of her home.
Joker was eerily silent, offering no hint as to his current mood. As much as she wanted to pay her companion the proper attention, it was becoming increasingly strenuous as symptoms of the trip made themselves more pronounced. Multi-tasking was becoming impossible, focusing on more than one object or thought at a time was arduous at best. Every other blink produced stenciled outlines of neon colors that seemed to glow brighter the longer she stared at them.
Internally…internally she was over the moon. In fact, she felt like she could do a cartwheel that would propel her over it.
Why not?
She gently lowered her flowers, positioned herself at a side angle, and after a few back and forth shuffles – so as to gain momentum - attempted to flip her body over.
Attempted being the key word.
"Ow," she murmured upon landing awkwardly on her back.
A cloud she was studying morphed into a lightbulb. No, a hot air balloon. No, no, no, a sandwich wearing a top hat!
Giggling, she pushed herself up to her feet, careening a little. Breathlessly, she peered around; smile etched into her features. Her whole body buzzed and thrummed with barely concealed joy.
Upon a slow perusal, her smile wavered.
Did he…go inside? Is he…did he…?
She did a full pirouette of her environment but failed to locate Joker.
Huh. I guess I got too silly…even for him.
It was tough not feeling a stab of disappointment at his absence. Both arms wrapped around her torso, soothing herself with a tight hug.
It's okay…you're not alone…you have me!
She beamed. Yes, yes she did.
For the next hour – though Celine wouldn't have known the difference between ten minutes and sixty at that point – she focused her attention on setting up a cozy little spot between the woods and side porch, consisting of a blanket she'd nabbed off the porch swing. She then proceeded to scan the area for more flowers, bendy twigs, and leaves.
Once she thought herself sufficiently loaded up on materials, she skipped over to her garage and got to work searching for some twine she knew was in there but couldn't for the life of her remember where. It didn't help she kept on getting sidetracked. Each object her eyes landed on; an emotion rooted in nostalgia would hit.
Years back, nostalgia had been exceptionally painful to feel. At its core, it served as a melancholy reminder of all she would never experience again. A reminder that time marched forward with or without your consent, and death spared neither the heinous nor benevolent.
Now however…being at peace with the temporariness of life…she couldn't help but smile, marvel, and bask in all the memories. Though she wasn't necessarily having a good time through some of those moments, she'd had people in her life that loved and cared for her, even when she couldn't muster up those feelings toward herself. That was a luxury many weren't afforded, and she counted herself infinitely lucky.
She spent a good chunk of time staring at a black and white framed photo that'd been tucked away deep in a shelf behind the lawn mower. It was of her grandfather Joachim, his wife Imelda, and their four children – all aged at the time between two and twelve. By a quick scan of the back, she discovered it was marked with the date of their first time at the beach house after Joachim's completion of it. In all her years of living here, she'd never seen this photo, and a myriad of emotions coursed through her as she examined it.
She traced the outline of her mom's baby face, who appeared puzzled as to why she was being held so long by Joachim. Then her Uncle Reed chewing on some sort of toy she couldn't make out. He was wrapped up in June's arms, who was smiling bashfully at the camera, face nearly obscured by Reed's blonde locks in an attempt to evade its lens. To her right was Lucien – the tallest out of all the children – also seemingly camera-shy as he buried half of his face into Imelda's apron. Behind them was both the beach house and the vast ocean sprawling over the cliffs.
Not until a few teardrops plopped onto the glass did she realize she'd been crying. Despite half of the occupants being deceased, they were happy tears. Love had kept her family together…been instilled, taught, and showed to the little ones…and they in turn passed this ability onto their kin and so on and so forth.
Love…love…love…the Beatles had it right. Not money, not material possessions, not social standing or title or prestige. Love.
She clutched the frame to her chest and hugged it for all it was worth. One day, when her soul was catapulted into the great vastness of the universe, she would encounter them all…Joachim, Imelda, Nora…Cathy…yes…death wasn't the end, merely a pitstop to something less confining than the human form.
She eventually located the twine in one of the numerous toolboxes, and after wiping away her tears, hustled back to her cozy spot on the grass; getting to work on creating the best flower crown she could.
Halfway through the venture, she abruptly paused and looked down at her hands. She didn't know how long had passed since the trip gained speed but judging by where the sun was in the sky, she'd not yet hit the peak.
Wow wow wow…Steph…you really really outdid yourself this time. I think maybe it might be time…yes…time for a reality check.
It was the same question she asked herself on numerous occasions while under the influence of a potent psychedelic. And something she did when determining how drunk she was. Just to give her an idea of where on the spectrum she was sobriety-wise…or rather what remained of her sober state.
How did World War One begin?
That she was even able to recall the question informed her she was treading along nicely and probably shouldn't spark up a joint until after the peak had hit. Though her ability to form coherent thoughts hadn't yet abandoned her, the visuals and feelings besieging her hinted it would sooner rather than later.
World War One…World War One…what was…Mrs. Feeney…she wrote…chalkboard…it read…M.A.I.N. Militarism…men…so gung-ho about having troops at the ready, the illusion of peace when soldiers march upon command…Alliances…Europe, a melting pot of suspicion masked by diplomacy…Imperialism…continents forcibly colonized…oh…oh they deserved better…N…Nationalism…feverish pride in arbitrary borders…it wasn't Gavrilo alone, no…the irony, pungent like copper on the tongue…that he should survive the entirety of it, only to succumb…what was it…what vaccine we now have…tuberculosis…did someone bring him news, provide him updates of all the dominoes he knocked down…the empires propped on brittle bones, shattered and reformed…countries redrawn, independencies declared, royal families casted into obscurity…no he was not responsible alone, men worse than him took turns lighting the keg…he merely succeeded in igniting it…and history always remembers the last handprints, best.
She shook her head, eyes dropping to her flower crown.
Let us not linger…with each flower I weave into this, I defy those who would plunge this world into a thousand restless nights.
Her fingers hastened in speed, emboldened by the frantic beauty of this thought. It was so tempting to dwell on what couldn't be changed…and that's what they counted on after all. Let the hopelessness mold you into a mouthy cynic who'd forgotten they had it in them to influence their environment and those in it. Complaining about how bad the world was when they were just as guilty of indifference, of doing nothing to make it better.
The capability to usher in change was not a privilege granted to a handful, but to all. She couldn't forget this…she couldn't allow others to forget this.
It was when she was looping the last bit of twine over the stem of a vibrant lily that the sun disappeared. Furrowing her brows, she glanced up.
Joker loomed over her, grasping the handle of what looked to be his sharpest knife. Someone's blood was still caked onto it. Her gaze traveled up to his face, and immediately the flower crown slipped from her fingers.
Alarms blared so loudly in her ears that she stumbled up to her feet and began peddling backwards.
Wha-I-I don't understand.
His face was once again covered in paint. But no…not his greasepaint. This coloration was familiar for she had gotten it just the evening before.
Her feet didn't stop retreating until her back struck the rough bark of a tree. She did her best not to panic, eyes searching for some sort of emotion that made sense. He'd covered his face again…diluting her acrylics paint with water by the looks of it…it was getting difficult to tell; the colors spread and receded into their respective lines like fluctuating seas.
"Having a good time, Cece?"
His voice was venom pinched out of a struggling cobra that would perish from the endeavor.
There is no light to be found in charcoal so black.
Goosebumps raced up and down her arms, each elevating bump more painful than the last. All that'd been warm and good and safe and peaceful struggled not to abandon ship. There was an iceberg ahead and it sought to do her vessel harm.
"J-Jack," she breathed out, voice trembling. "W-what are you doing?"
He closed the remaining distance between them, forcing her to push into the bark until distress was all her body knew.
"What's it look like, sweets? Doing what I do best," he answered, stopping an arm's length away. "These past few hours have certainly been uh en-ter-taining, I'll hand it to ya there. Not as dull as I pegged ya for. But alas…boredom is a bitch, and I'm getting reeeeall irritated by her nagging."
He ran the hand holding his knife, through his hair. She couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Joker's grin was malevolent. He cocked his head to the side.
"Oh no no no, don't you worry your pretty little head off…I'm not gonna kill ya." He wiggled his blade back and forth. "This here…he's got business with your uncle…and your aunt…and everyone else you not so smartly led me to."
She tried to breathe, but nothing came in or out. Her lungs protested at the lack of oxygen. The world around her was becoming ominous and bleak and suffocating.
"I…I-."
"I-I," he mocked, fist jerking back and forth near his eye, pretending to shed a tear. "I think I'm gonna start with your favorite Uncle Lucien. And just for you I'll make it slow. Wouldn't wanna miss the chance to say your goodbyes to him, now would you?'
Her knees buckled. The fingernails of her bandaged hand clawed uselessly into the bark.
Strangely, her brain was empty. Refreshingly empty. She understood what he was threatening to do, but her body was the only part of her responding.
"Now I was thinking of using this one." He brought the blade up to her eyes, letting her study it. "Penetrates the organs like you wouldn't believe. But I promised ya I'd make it slow, didn't I? So maybe something a little…lighter will do the trick."
He took his time pocketing the knife in his hand, instead bringing out what looked like a carving blade.
"Mmm, yes, yes, yes," he mused, index finger pressing down on the tip until he drew blood. "Gil was very familiar with this one. Whadda ya say? Slice off a few of your Uncle's fingers so you don't feel so alone, hm?
She gulped, not trusting her voice to speak.
"I'll move on to his wife next, and then Aunty June…I'll even thank her personally -." He grabbed his crotch. "-for that scrum-p-tious apple cider. Hope ah the hubby doesn't mind."
She willed her body to move. To do something. Anything.
"Oh, don't you fret." He patted her on the head with no shortage of patronization. "Like I said, I'll let ya live. Serve as a reminder…never invite a wolf into a henhouse. So, so, so, so many hens, why…I don't know what to do with them all! Mm…but I'm sure I'll figure it out."
On the verge of passing out, Celine finally found the ability to exhale.
"Ya know I gotta wonder." He suddenly grabbed her by the hair and slipped the curve of his blade into her parted mouth. "If I looked up the word naïve in the dictionary, there wouldn't be a pretty little picture of you next to it. 'Cos no matter how hard ya try denying it, that's what you are. Resilient as the bravado you wear, beneath it you're nothing more than an open nerve. And you've made it so convenient to sink my fingernails in."
He brought his face up to hers until they were nearly touching noses. His tongue darted out to lap at each scar. Mania bled out of his eyes and into his expression.
"But maybe what I wanna thank you for most of all is the thoughtful jacking material you've provided me for years to come. Putting your trust in someone haha someone like…me. Mm…that…that should be the basis of your essay. The Nature of Shame, starring the in-comparable Celine Harlow."
All the neon lines had by this point vanished. The vibrancy of her environment had dulled. And interiorly…interiorly she was…at a standstill. She wasn't sure why; he was going to kill her family. He had a knife in her mouth. Shouldn't she be experiencing horror? Disgust? Shame? Guilt?
"W-wow." She swallowed, not entirely sure what was going to come out. "You really are obsessed with me."
He cocked his head at this, slowly retracting his blade from her mouth.
One of her hands slipped into her pocket and withdrew her compact mirror. Briefly taking her eyes off him, she stared at her reflection.
It was odd, she knew how to respond, but needed the courage of meeting her own eyes to do it.
"I-I would feel awful if you killed my family," she admitted, mesmerized by the calming blue staring back. "But…when that guilt passes…and it will…I'll see with clarity. You…killed them…to prove a point. That point isn't that I'm foolish for trusting people…that point is…you're…petty…and sad…and…afraid…and…alone…and you want others…to live in that world…too. I'll still…feel…empathy toward you…even if in the form of pity…and I'll learn…to love myself again…for it."
She was blinking back tears, overwhelmed by the depth of compassion reflecting back at her.
When did I learn to love in such an unconditional way?
Her intuition responded.
When you learned to trust in yourself and just…be.
She flipped the mirror shut and looked at Joker, smiling weakly.
Without warning, he drew back his knife and rammed it as hard as he could into the bark directly above her head. Her full-bodied flinch nearly caused her skull to strike the blade.
"Weird." He stepped back and began to pace, murmuring under his breath. "Weird, weird, weird one I've chosen. My job to be weird, mine. But noooo, she's gotta outdo me without even trying."
She wasn't sure if he was aware that he was voicing his thoughts aloud.
With his penchant for theatrics, I think you found a new member to take to improv with the Cheekbones.
It took her seemingly forever to understand what her intuition was getting at.
"Jack," she ventured, rubbing the bark up and down. "Um…were you really going to kill my family?"
He froze and pinned her with a mildly exasperated look. Which she'd have taken the time to appreciate better as it was rare for him to wear altogether, but the neon lines had suddenly returned, making squiggles around the various paint lines of his face.
"'Course not, wouldn't ah be very gentlemanly, now would it?"
Her mouth dropped open.
This seemed to improve his spirits somewhat.
"Man of my word, Cece. 'S long as I'm not provoked, your little country bumpkins won't end up carved pumpkins."
She had to battle down a disturbing urge to laugh.
"You fucked with me."
"Duh."
Her knees gave out. She slumped to the ground.
"Why?"
His shrug was nonchalant.
"You were really touting your ability to come back from a bad trip yesterday. Figured I'd uh give you a little test to see just how good you were. Con-gratulations." He offered her a mock round of applause. "You passed with flying colors. And ah probably seeing some too, hm?"
If she wasn't in such a calm headspace, she would strongly debate strangling him.
I can't channel those emotions right now, they're volatile and sit at the edge of a slippery slope. I really might dive into a bad trip. As difficult as it is, I need to accept and move on. Tomorrow…tomorrow I'm going to chop off his nuts. Today…he keeps them.
She offered him a hesitant nod.
"Yeah…t-they're all around your eyes and cheeks and mouth. Did…did you use my acrylics?"
"Mhm."
"You should probably wash them off soon," she suggested. "Leave them on too long…too long and-."
A cloud shaped like a flailing octopus briefly distracted her. More clouds merged with it, creating a MEGAoctopus.
Joker snapped his fingers in front of her a few times.
She looked at him with wide eyes.
"-toxic…and difficult to…wash off. I like your face…I like it a lot…but I like it best…without the paint. You're so…damn handsome it hurts my-." She gestured down to her pelvis region. "-ovaries."
Her head slumped back, a goofy grin plastering itself onto her face.
"Can't tell if you're serious or ya lost it."
She giggled.
"Both, I think."
His lips twitched at the admission. He offered her a mock bow.
"As my bunny wishes."
He turned to go back to the house, but she lunged upward and caught him by the sleeve of his dress shirt before he could.
"Um…" She teetered in place; Joker grasping her by the arm to steady her. "Could you maybe please…take that knife out of the tree? I-it did nothing to deserve it."
"It's just a tr-."
"Please."
He grumbled something unintelligible before extending his arm and wrenching the blade out.
"Happy?"
She nodded shyly.
While he was inside – hopefully removing the paint and not concocting another plan to mess with her – Celine finished up her flower crown. Structurally, it didn't look the best, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. Pinks, whites, blues, reds, purples…they were harmoniously woven upside down and right-side up, separated occasionally by a green leaf. Two bendy twigs ended up twined together to support the headdress, and she was still marveling at it by the time Joker returned.
"Bit arts and crafty," he mentioned upon taking it in. "Can't tell if you or a toddler made it."
She looked up at him and then down at the crown. Up at him, down at the crown.
Joker picked up on what she was about to ask before she could even open her mouth.
"Ah no."
Her feet shuffled toward him and perhaps for the first time in his entire life, Joker was the one casually retreating.
"But…I need to see it…fully realized," she struggled to explain, unable to keep the loopy half-grin off her face. "And I can't think of a more…suitable person."
"No."
"There's no one arou-."
"NO."
"But-."
"No."
Her body wanted to sink into the ground. What could she say, what could she do to convince him?
With a soft, sullen sigh, she clasped her hands behind her, jutted out her bottom lip in the pout of the century, and furrowed her brows like a thoroughly defeated puppy. She threw in a few sniffles for good measure.
Joker rolled his eyes.
"Not happening, sweets. Pouting like that's only gonna get that lip in trouble."
She sucked it in and peeked up at him, blinking a few times.
"Promise?"
It came out much breathier than intended, and remarkably, did its job.
Joker stifled a grunt, running a palm over his face.
"Really living up to my pet name, aren't ya?"
"Adorable is as adorable does," she returned quietly, offering him the crown.
He snatched it and rotated it a few times, doing little to hold back his frown.
"You're gonna owe me for this, and I fully intend to collect."
Without waiting for her to agree, he placed it on his head. It wasn't on all that firmly, so he tightened it with a few back and forth jerks.
The moment it was properly on him, Celine's mouth popped open.
"Oh."
Her heart felt like it was going to soar out of her throat, expand into a bubble, and absorb Joker's body; effectively keeping him safeguarded inside like a priceless treasure.
He crossed his arms and glared at her, but not even the most murderous expression could take away from how…how…devastatingly precious he looked.
Though her movements at this point in the trip needed to be thought out, her reaction was almost instantaneous.
Before Joker could protest and tear the crown off, she took out her cell phone, brought up the camera function, and snapped a photo of him.
His growl and subsequent snatching of her phone was, in her humble opinion, worth it.
"Agreed to try it on, not to model."
He pocketed her phone, ripped off the crown and threw it to the ground.
She blinked at it, noticing a few petals had gotten tangled in Joker's hair.
"What'd ya expect?" he groused at her crestfallen expression. "That I put it on and suddenly everything is peaches and rainbows? Might be your overall disposition, but it ah certainly isn't mine."
He voiced this with a mixture of pride and bite. Like a pitbull eying the hand it'd bitten with a twinkle in its eye.
He fears giving in…not to goodness…not to kindness…though mistakenly that's what he thinks it is. How do we make him see? How do we make him understand?
She pinched the interior of her palm, trying to arrange her thoughts. The trip was adamant in pulling her in deeper, but before she could let it, something important needed to be said. Something important needed to be cleared up. And in order for this to happen, she needed just a sliver of sobriety, some intuitive wisdom, and a dose of heart.
Carefully, she lowered herself down onto the grass, crossed her legs and rested her hands atop her knees.
"Join me…if you want."
He remained standing.
"It's not going to hurt anything, I promise," she sounded out, focusing on her breathing. "Please?"
He'd threatened a lot of people over the course of his life, but none of them retained their manners the way Celine did. It was a kryptonite of his, he realized in that moment. No matter what he put her through, no matter what mask he wore, no matter what threat he made, no matter the scars - she still believed him to be deserving of common courtesy.
"Better be quick," was all he said.
He plopped down in front of her, wearing a contemptuous half frown. Unconsciously, he mirrored her crossed legs, scanning every inch of her; on guard, for this was an uncommon position for him to be in.
Tenderly now…too long has he learned lessons harshly.
"You were upset earlier," she stated, peering directly into his eyes. "When I cried for Rachel. You accused me of seeing you as nothing more than your more…menacing qualities."
He opened his mouth to retort, but she held a hand up.
"Let me just…get this out," she continued, brows knitting together. "I can…weep for Rachel and still choose to be here with you. Both complexities exist in me…that…that's what it means to be human."
He considered her statement through narrowed lids.
"I've found the most complex individuals to be…the most fascinating. And you…are every bit as complex as I am. Yet…you…shy away from it. You…fight to accept…duality within you. Duality…a defining feature of the human experience. Is it…do you no longer consider yourself human?"
She refused to lower her gaze, prompting Joker to tighten his jaw.
"Mm…knock it off with the pseudo-psychology bullshit," he rebuked "You're projecting, don't you see? Duality of man only applies to those too indecisive to pick a side. I've chosen mine."
"I-it's not about sides. John…Aesop…they stood on the same side as you…and still…they were capable of experiencing…of feeling…that which exists within us all." Her eyes dropped to his balled-up fists. "Some…choose to spend their whole lives burying it…after all…once buried, you don't expect it to rise again. But…isn't it…"
She inhaled, bringing her hands together. Everything leaving her lips was coming straight from the heart…she just hoped it didn't come off as preachy. Joker was not one to be preached to.
"Isn't it nice?" She looked up at him. "To be reminded that life…can still surprise you. That people…can still surprise you. That you…don't know yourself as well as you thought you did."
He didn't answer.
"I understand now, more than ever, the importance of meeting John." She ignored his glower. "I thought he had…compromised me. I thought that in caring for him…I was…losing myself. But…that's not the case. I was…expanding…growing…seeing myself more fully, from a step further than I…normally would. Meeting John…prepared me for you."
His jaw slackened at this. She offered him her hands.
"You don't have to if you don't want to."
She meant for this to sound reassuring, but he must have deemed it a challenge. In no time, his calloused hands were tightly gripping hers.
"If you really believe you've chosen a side," she said. "Then…I shouldn't still be alive, should I? You and I…we shouldn't be here, should we?"
His answer didn't need to be announced, it was clear to them both.
"Which means…duality exists within you. You're beginning to see a depth to yourself…a depth that for some reason…uneases you."
"Doesn't unease me," he argued, quieter than she expected. "I know very well where that depth leads."
She cocked a brow, fighting down a smile.
"So…" She gazed around their environment before locking eyes back onto him. "You predicted all this, did you?" Her tone was light and teasing, making sure he was in on the joke, not the butt of it. "Meeting my Uncle, swimming outside my childhood home, hanging out in my treehouse…wow…impressive…not only a physically skilled clown, but a psychic one too."
He tried to keep his lip twitching to a minimal.
"You know you're lucky I let ya be so mean to me."
Her eyes grew brighter. She pulled one of his hands to her mouth and pretended to assault it with a few feverish chomps. He yanked it back, propelling her forward a bit. Their hands remained fastened to one another.
The air around them shifted, though Celine was more sensitive to it. Suddenly, things weren't so heavily charged. And she knew Joker was in a more open headspace to listen to what she was saying.
"You've been accepting that depth since the moment you met me," she revealed, tightening her hold on him. "And so have I. You're…not in this alone. The key…the key I've discovered…is…what you told me yesterday. Don't think…so much…about it. Go with the flow. Enjoy the moment. The power…of acceptance. Few can manage it…they dig in their heels…bastardize their environment until it matches their perception…so as to avoid knowing themselves deeper. So as to avoid being…wrong."
His half grin slipped a little.
"I have no problems accepting the inevitable."
"Only if it benefits your perception of the world," she pointed out. "Take it from someone who used to dread being wrong…you fail to see that not all inevitabilities…are bad. Not all inevitabilities turn out how we think they will. We paint that picture from our own experience…and stub out anything and anyone…who try to help us…take a step…back."
She abruptly got onto her knees, fingers slipping in between his. Licking her lips, she gazed at him; examining him as he truly was for the first time since being his hostage.
"There is a lesson attempting to be taught to you, Jack. One that…for the first time in your life…you're at a level to learn. I certainly…won't push you toward it. It's on you to want to be challenged…but…I do want you to know." Again, she brought one of his hands up to her lips, this time, offering his knuckles the gentles of brushes. "You won't be alone in learning it. I…am just as uncertain of what awaits. But…instinct tells me…it tells me…you're…worth it."
She gently released him, so very relieved to finally get that off her chest.
"Hm." He cocked his head, studying her slightly swaying form. "I gotta piss."
He stood, turned, and without looking back, walked back to the house.
She blinked.
He's gotta piss.
Her body dropped backwards onto the grass. She started laughing and couldn't stop for two whole minutes.
When the fit finally receded, she got up and wandered toward the porch. Joker's aversion tactic should have irked her – and maybe if she were sober it would have – but she had no time to feel anything other than satisfied.
It was like a big secret she'd been housing, and in revealing to him such honesty, she felt liberated from a burden she'd not realized was so hefty to bear. There was something at work between them, and she thought it worth pursuing. This acknowledgment could no longer guilt trip her; and she refused to let him hold it over her. Could acceptance taste any sweeter?
She nabbed one of the bubble bottles she'd earlier set outside for a possibility such as this one and proceeded to blow a slew of various sized bubbles. Her feet crept after them with each blow, wanting so badly to hop atop one and ride it off into the horizon.
From inside the house, Joker glared at her through a window. Once again, he was stroking the handle of his sharpest blade. Her monologue played on repeat in his head.
Smug, mouthy bitch. Self-righteous, pretentious, conniving-.
His hand burned from how tightly he clutched the weapon. With an inhuman grunt, he brought back his arm and stabbed into the wall above the window nine separate times; movements so wild and erratic he didn't realize right away bits of plaster and wallpaper had chipped off into his hair.
Panting heavily, he stared at the damage he'd done, knife hand shaking. His gaze returned to Celine.
Foolish…virtuous…soft…trusting…so easy to just…just…
He was sprinting out the door half a second later.
Celine had one hand extended, so very close to slipping a finger beneath the biggest bubble she'd blown yet. Her toes were centimeters from the edge of the cliff, a bright grin fixed on her face.
Very nearly…almost…
She was abruptly yanked backwards just as her fingernail managed to touch the bubble. To her immense disappointment, it popped. And not a moment later, her body landed on someone solid beneath her; a pair of arms shackling around her waist.
She sighed sadly as Joker propped her up to sit. He made no move to remove his arms.
"I almost had it," she lamented, leaning back against him. "So, so close."
"Close to what, becoming a quadriplegic?" he retorted, discretely steadying his breaths. "Ques-tionable ambition, sweets, and that's coming from me." He buried his nose in her hair, grip tightening on her. "At this point, I'm strong-ly considering handcuffing ya to me…you're clearly a clutz."
She shivered in his hold and finally gave in to the urge to bare her neck to him.
Joker – emboldened by drive, instinct, and something deeper he didn't care to examine – wasted no time assaulting her with kisses. He then followed them up with a series of sharp, teasing nips that had her unsuccessfully stifling down giggles. He was only moderately aware of his legs coiling around the woman in his hold, like a snake laying claim to the perfect meal.
"Not…a…clutz," she tried to defend, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip. "I knew where the edge was…I just…"
He sucked a particularly tingly hickey into her neck, forcing her to lose focus on what she meant to say.
"No…fair. You're not…allowed to use…sexual…warfare…on me."
He casually palmed one of her breasts and shook it, earning him a noise stranded between a moan and a purr.
"No? Says who?"
She tried to wiggle out of his arms, but Joker wasn't having any of it.
"I says," she declared, peeking up at him. "You must comply…or risk…eternal damnation!"
"Mm…doctors would tell you I was damned the day I was born."
A laugh shot out of her.
"Yeah?" She cocked her head. "Did um…lights flicker? Birthing chair shake? Every priest in the vicinity…BURST into flames!"
"Hinting at something are we?"
She shook her head.
"No…no, you're too…fun to be the antichrist. And hell on Earth…would be so…boring. Everything destroyed…could you imagine…never having another twinkie again?"
"A clown shudders at the thought."
Closing her eyes, she relaxed against his chest and smiled.
Joker relayed commands to his limbs to release her, but they were apparently staging a mutiny, and after a few seconds he found himself not caring all that much anyway. It was becoming less startling how effortless it was to succumb to her…and more…natural…right.
He shook his head, ridding himself of that line of thinking…until he was alone at least, and she wouldn't be on the immediate receiving end of his conclusions.
"So," he remarked, twirling one of her silver locks, "what ah what's next on the agenda?"
"Beach?" she murmured. "Sunset, eventually. Music. Sandcastles. Maybe a fire. Marshmallows? Fuck it all if I care, so long's you're with me."
He stiffened at the proclamation.
"Not especially bright of you," he reminded, "putting so much…trust in me."
Opening one eye, she studied him.
"I flunked out of college, mon cheri. Safe to say brightness isn't one of my shining attributes."
He ignored the attempt at humor, contemplating her seriously.
"I should kill you."
"Yeah." She tilted her head. "What else is new?"
Her nonchalant response combined with the dazed smile she wore produced a reluctant twitching from his lips. His arms loosened around her just the slightest.
"I suppose I oughta hear your rap first before making any rash decisions, hm?"
She failed to contain her groan.
"Nevermind! Make it quick!"
His belly laugh shook not only his body, but hers too.
"C'mon bunny." He jabbed two fingers into a spot in her side he remembered she was ticklish in. "Let's get ya back to the beach…a beach bunny! Ha! Really outdid myself with that pet name, didn't I?"
She bit her lip, rubbing her ribcage absently.
"Try, try, try to understand…." she belted. "You're a magic maaaaaaan!"
Rolling his eyes, he attempted to dig into her opposite side, but with her newfound freedom she managed to roll off of him, stagger up to her feet, and shoot off toward the house.
Joker took his sweet time standing up, grinning crookedly as she zig-zagged across the lawn before abruptly tripping over her feet and landing in the grass. His cackle scared off all birds in the nearby vicinity. Not a second later he darted after her.