Over the course of the next few hours Celine shifted through a variety of emotions, actions, and words. Though the fluctuations would make her appear insane to most, Joker was not one of those people. He was absolutely and thoroughly mesmerized, amused, and intrigued.
At the peak of the trip half-coherent mumbles scattered out of her. She had freed herself from his grasp only to sit on her knees in between his legs, fingers digging over and over into the sand, gaze trained on something that didn't appear to be there.
"The oranges, the oranges," she babbled, shaking her head, eyes alit. "They're all decomposing. I need to…bite…into them…before they're…gone."
Joker watched on as she lifted her hands above her and studied them with fully blown pupils.
A little while later she was studying the sky above her with a parted mouth, and then the ocean, and then the cliffs, and the trees above them.
Giggles rocked out of her throat.
"Colors…they move." Her hands closed around her mouth. She appeared on the verge of crying, though they weren't tears of sadness, but of awe, of revery. "They move in patterns…of vibrations."
Her gaze fell to him and her grin stretched to epic proportions.
Then, her thoughts traveled elsewhere. He could see it from the sudden pinching of her brows and nose.
"Her name…what's her name…lady of the woods. Gal…lady of the woods."
"Lady of the woods?" he asked, leaning back, weight resting on his hands.
"Surely…you've seen? She resisted the Ring of power from…Fro-Fro-doh."
He had only a slight idea of what she was talking about. Personally, he'd never taken the time to watch the Lord of the Rings films…too long, too much talking, overbearing with fantastical elements he found eye-roll worthy. Gore, dark humor, and slashers were more up his alley…which, coincidentally, is exactly what you'd find were you trapped in an alleyway with him.
But Celine seemed adamant on trying to recall the name of someone from the program.
"Played by…the actress…Cathaleet Blanket?"
She looked at him as if to confirm.
He shrugged with one shoulder, not having a clue. Though, the likelihood of an actress out there named Cathaleet Blanket was decidedly slim.
At one point she stood and wandered over to the fire he had started. He kept close to her, watching her sway and extend her arms. For nearly a half hour she stood in the same position. When he realized she most likely wouldn't be budging any time soon, he opted to sprawl out on the quilt and watch her from his side; elbow buried in the sand to support his head atop his palm. Her mixtape continued in the background, but he hardly payed it any attention, lost in his own thoughts, most having to do with her, and keeping one leg near her just in case she decided to nosedive into the fire.
She startled him slightly when she looked at him, wearing a troubled frown.
"What's up?"
He'd not realized until that moment that he'd adopted her saying.
She pointed at the fire, then at herself. Her hand lifted. She studied it closely.
"Use your words, sweetheart," he encouraged. "What's happening inside that pretty little noggin' of yours?"
"Simulation," she stated. "You've heard of it, yes?"
He observed her carefully.
"Theory that we're all living in one?" he confirmed. "Read up on it a time or two. It's got some weight. But ah…I think it's a lot less mmm…intricate than that."
"If it's true," she managed out, rubbing her hands together, then studying them again. "Then…it's all…empty. Meaningless. Pre…pre-programmed."
"Life's meaningless as it is."
She shook her head vigorously at this.
"Only meaningless," she told him, "if you choose it to be."
His lips quirked up.
"We'll ah agree to disagree on that one."
She abruptly sat cross legged, looking all around her.
"If it is all…a simulation." She patted the sand beneath her firmly. "Then…I don't care. Because…programmers…allow beautiful things. Water and trees and art and music. We have…access…to beautiful things. Beautiful…experiences. Might as well…might as well enjoy them before the servers are cleared."
He opened his mouth, debating how to answer.
"Might as well," he settled on.
She nodded happily at that, drawing her legs up and wrapping both arms around them.
Joker's attention flickered between the woman sitting beside the fire - entranced with trickling grains of sand onto her feet - and the calm waves of the ocean behind her. Initially, the salt in the air had given him a bit of a headache, but only because he wasn't accustomed to being suffocated by it.
Now, it was almost a heady after-scent.
Restlessness eventually knocked at his door. He answered by removing from his pocket a knife roll bag. This one carried nine of the smaller blades he often played "darts" with (who the bullseye was alternated depending on the day).
Celine wasn't the target, but rather the beacon. And he flicked each blade at everyone and anyone who would dare try and douse her. By the time all was said and done, a semi-circle of nine knives surrounded her oblivious form.
Only minutes later he felt a vibration in his pants pocket. He glanced once at Celine, but she was lost in her own world. Which was lucky for him as it was her phone that was ringing.
When he saw who the caller was, he nearly tossed it into the fire.
Lumberjack Tony Calling…
A tic rippled through his jaw. He declined the call and turned her phone off. The last thing she needed was…unsavory distractions.
A little while later he noticed she was tracing the faint scars on top of her thighs, lips caught between a smile and a frown. He chose not to say anything, figuring she would speak first.
"When I was young," she said, voice somehow near and far away at the same time, "I used to melt into people until there was nothing left."
She didn't follow this up with anything, and he suspected it was more rhetorical than anything.
About fifteen minutes later she looked up at him.
"It is necessary to kill yourself sometimes."
He couldn't tell if she meant that as a statement or question.
"Yes," he answered.
She nodded.
"Let old versions of you die, Jack."
He stiffened. And even when her gaze returned to her thighs, he still didn't untense…not until the sun began romancing the horizon.
The gradual darkening of scenery and pops of oranges, purples, reds, and indigos seemed to ignite something frenzied in her.
Now, she was on her feet, pacing around the fire, skipping along the shoreline, spinning around with arms extended, bowing and rising and turning and sliding and swaying; incapable of remaining still. Her movements were graceful, purposeful…like she was being led by an invisible string, listening to an omniscient conductor.
Out of nowhere she began to laugh, and she didn't stop for a long while.
Joker found himself thinking how it was the antithesis to the fits that overcame him. In private, if the headspace was right, he could carry on close to an hour. None of his men bothered him during these times, knowing better, or more likely, disturbed out of their wits.
When Celine laughed, it was like a warm melody that soared into your chest and spread throughout your entire body, banishing all coldness within. Her lack of reservation…her lack of grounding in this world…her lack of shits to give…was…infectious.
He joined in on her laughter because it called his out, begging for a companion to verbalize the depth of their individual insanities.
By the time it was over, both of their cheeks were stained with tears and their abs ached from the slightest movement. Though the temperature had dropped a little, their bodies were flush with fever. The sun was nearly ready to depart from their neck of the world; a great, fiery presence guarding them both.
When Celine could finally stand straight without it hurting, she glanced at Joker, then took off in a sprint toward his seated form. He watched her nearing him, spreading his legs a little, biting down on his lip, arms extending, fingers beckoning her closer for whatever it is she had in store.
She tackled him, and his arms and legs immediately wrapped her up. They fell backwards and together, began to roll away from the fire toward the cliffs. Neither knew who had started laughing again, only that soon they were clutching each other for dear life as they worked through the madness possessing them.
Eventually, they paused for air, chests heaving up and down.
Twilight was so very near. They studied each other's faces in the lowlight of the sky and the wavering flames of the fire.
She leaned forward first, and he met her halfway. Their lips locked together, tongues following suit, clashing in unison, stroking and teasing and tasting. A grunt ripped through Joker's throat. His knees pried Celine's wide apart. His hips dove forward, cock nearly tearing through the seam of his pants just to get a whiff of the warm heat that awaited him.
Her hands wove into his hair, yanking him by the roots any time he dared deepen the kiss. His vengeance was to lean back and nip sharply over and over at her bottom lip, tugging it closer and closer to him each time, eyes flashing in a warning. A warning she challenged the longer eye contact persisted.
It was when her hands disappeared from his hair and reappeared at the buttons of his vest that Joker found some clarity. A growl reverberated in his chest as he snatched her hands and pinned them down on either side of her.
"Make no mistake," he relayed with an eerie calmness. "You will be getting the fucking your long overdue for."
Her eyes flashed and her core throbbed needily.
"Bu-t." He anchored her to the sand with his forehead, not blinking once. "When you're…sober. We understand?"
She kept glancing between his eyes and mouth.
"I said-." He ground his rock-hard cock against her straining groin. "-we understand?"
"Y-yes," she panted, blinking a few times. "I understand."
He slowly lapped at his scars before lifting himself off of her and falling backwards to sit. For once, he was the one between the two that needed a moment to compose themselves.
Celine's eyes were wide. She swallowed a few times, and then worked on standing.
Joker watched every one of her movements closely, breaths slowly returning to a semi-normal rhythm.
She walked over to the cliff and stood there for a few moments. Her hands reached out and rested against the sediment, feeling it out.
The sun had finally disappeared, only for a near full moon to take its place in the night sky. The wind whistled pleasantly against their heated skin. The longer their eyes adjusted, the more stars were revealed to them. The mix tape was over with, leaving the crackling of fire and soft drifting of waves over shore as the only two audible sounds.
Without warning, Celine knelt. She started to pat the cliff in various spots, palms sinking in, hoping to collect some of the eroded color.
Joker was caught between wanting to approach and keeping his distance.
Something shifted in the air. All the hairs on the back of his neck perked up. Dormant fight or flight instincts kicked into high gear within him.
When she finally turned, he almost didn't recognize her. It was Celine physically, but a stranger stared back at him. Further proven by the fact that when she moved, it was done with a combination of arms and legs. As if she were a primordial creature, stealthily sizing him up.
She crept alongside the cliff on her palms and knees, staring at him unblinkingly. A hint of a sneer made her upper lip peel back. Joker couldn't look away even if he wanted to.
"You don't deserve her."
He straightened up into a sitting position. Though his breathing was steady, his heart thumped loudly. And he suspected she could hear it as her eyes flickered to his chest, and then back up to his face.
"Not yet, anyway," she continued, tilting her head until it was nearly resting on her shoulder. "There is still time…for you to reach your potential."
He swallowed tightly, battling down the urge to fish out one of his knives.
"Can't ah say we've been introduced." He licked his lips and offered her an indulgent smirk. "Whom do I owe the pleasure?"
She rapidly crawled forward, severing the distance between them by half. Joker gave in to instinct and whipped out his sharpest knife. He pointed it at her, gaze narrowing.
Her head cocked the opposite direction. One hand slithered over her face and through her hair, leaving behind a faint smudge of earthy brown and reddish orange.
"She exists because I hunted. She is resilient because I fought. She is protected because I guide. I am immortalized in the lines of her palms."
She lifted her right hand and flattened it out, palm facing him.
An uncomfortable sort of laugh got trapped in his throat.
"You've lost it, haven't ya?"
They both noticed the moment his knife hand involuntarily shook. She met his eyes.
"I speak now, animal to animal. You kill without purpose, without respect, without mercy. The most selfish of instincts drive you. You do not deserve her."
She moved swiftly to sit on her feet, one hand curled into the sand between her legs.
"And yet…these traits bleed into you in increments. The slaughtering of the one crueler than you marked a metamorphosis."
"No one's-"
She lifted her bandaged right hand and one by one, lowered all of her fingers until she reached the one already gone.
He held back his nod at the last minute.
"So much pleasure you took," she said. "In the disassembling of that animal. More than any you've thus far slaughtered. And yet…still too quick. You think this when you gaze upon her bruises. You think this when you gaze upon her hand."
His flinch lasted milliseconds, but she glimpsed it nevertheless.
"That instinct roaring to protect is no fluke. It is in your best interest to learn to adhere. For both of your sakes."
He finally found his voice.
"And if I don't?"
Her hand scooped some sand and lifted it to show him. The wind lashed out, stealing it all from her palm.
"Gone will be that which was meant to be yours. Alone you will remain, for this life and any you should have the misfortune to live again."
He was doing his best to mimic her emotionless face.
"Pretty sure it's a one and done sorta deal. Anyone ever tell ya conviction isn't your strong suit?"
One corner of her lips curled upward. She lifted her chin to the side, eyes running up and down his form.
"Denial…reluctance…fear…oh, how you strain…trying so hard to resist your own fate."
Before he could say anything else, she blinked, and Celine was back. She shot him a million-Watt smile, mirth and warmth reclaiming her expression.
That is until she saw the knife pointed at her. Immediately, she retreated until her back struck the cliff.
Joker stared at her wide-eyed, feeling like he'd just experienced the world's worst case of whiplash.
Neither said a word for close to a minute. Though she was trying to be discrete about it, he could see her trying to dig herself further into the rocks. His eyes dropped to her bandaged hand.
"You're a trip," he announced. "You know that?"
The knife slipped from his fingers. He ignored it and pushed up to his feet.
"G-good trip?" she tried, risking a few steps toward him. "Bad?"
"Not boring," he answered. "Not a fucking boring bone in your body."
She hesitantly patted herself.
"Yay?"
Her uncertain little smile nearly had him forgetting the conversation that'd occurred moments earlier. Nearly.
He cupped her cheeks, monitoring every macro and micro expression.
"You ah…disappeared on me there for a little bit. Where'd ya go?"
Her eyes brightened. She covered his hands with hers.
"I-…you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
He did his best not to bare his teeth.
"Try me."
"Well…I…was here." She stomped her foot once for good measure. "But…my house…wasn't. Everything was…forest. Everything smelled…clean. Pure. The stars!"
She peered up, fingers tightening on his.
"I'd never…seen so many before. I could see…parts of the Milky Way."
When she continued staring, Joker pressed down on her chin with a thumb.
"Sorry." She reddened a little. "There were people…with markings on them…dancing…around that fire over there. Dressed…well…undressed, for the most part. They…invited me to dance…so I did."
He was searching her face intently, deliberating how to proceed.
She sensed a conflict of emotions swirling within him.
"I'm sorry if it looked like physically…I spaced out. I think…most of it…was…in my head. I can never predict trips…only go along."
He gazed at her for another minute, neither of them saying a word.
"Did I…" Her brows crunched together. "Do something…wrong?"
It was her soft voice that did it. Joker removed his hands and took a step back, releasing a half-strangled sigh.
"When you ah…disappeared," he told her. "Someone took your place."
Her eyes widened.
"Little feistier than you…we ah…had a chat."
Wetness gathered in her eyes. Both hands came together over her chest.
"A-are you okay? D-did I…did I hurt you?"
Before he could answer, a few tears trailed down her cheeks. He tugged her into his arms faster than he wished to give thought to.
"Oh, hush," he half eased, half chided. "Life's gonna give ya a lot of reasons to cry. This ain't one 'em. Like I said, we had a friendly-," he forced out, "-chat. But now, you're back. And between the two of ya, I much prefer you."
She continued to cry, shoulders shaking. The front of his dress shirt was soon damp with tears.
"J-just let me-," she gasped out. "I need to-."
He didn't answer, tightening his hold on her. He thought he understood. The intensity of her drug-induced state amplified her emotions. Even if she wanted to stop crying, he didn't think she could. Thus, she needed to work through the arenas of worry and anxiety, so they could be fully out of her system.
Earlier in the day she'd told him that she didn't lie in this state. For as skeptical as he'd been, he was hard pressed not to believe her. Humans had a natural inclination to lie…to take the easy way out…to desecrate the truth while maintaining the illusion of desiring it.
Celine…prided herself on being honest, even if it wasn't necessarily easy. In this state, she couldn't lie, for that would further harm the relationship she had with herself…a relationship that was sacred, impenetrable, not able to be influenced by outside or opposing forces. A relationship she not only worked years at cultivating, but continued to work on, whereas so many others were content with stagnancy.
He peered down at the shivering bunny in his arms and smiled at her in a way that felt both a betrayal to himself, and an unspeakable relief. It passed his thoughts to snap her neck while she least expected it. But that's all it did. Pass through. And he…why, he had all the audacity in the world to stick out his tongue and give it the finger.
She sniffled a few times before gazing up at him, dark blue eyes now a pink-tinted, cerulean.
"S-sorry I-."
"If you apologize one more time," he said quietly. "I'm gonna use your intestines as fishing lure."
She went through a rapid fire of emotion- disgust, confusion, intrigue, and finally (strangely enough) flattery.
"Man," she marveled. "I-I can't tell if I'm…more useful to you alive or…dead."
"Mm…let's hope you don't gotta find out anytime soon." He ran a hand through her hair, wanting to see her face unobstructed. "Now ah…judging by your more coherent speech pattern, suffice to say the peak's been reached?"
"It has," she agreed. "I mean…I feel like I'm…in a cartoon. I wish I could show you…what I'm seeing around me. It's haha…it's…most excellent."
He nodded.
"Good, good. So uh…I think you've kept me waiting long enough."
"Waiti-?"
The moment his Cheshire smile appeared, she tried to scramble backwards.
"Ah ah ah, promise is a promise," he reminded, pulling her inward. "I. Wanna. Hear. Your. Rap."
"O-okay…you're right. Just let me…smoke a little. With some…luck…I won't remember this tomorrow."
Her nervous laughter soon transitioned into a body-quaking chortle.
"It's so stupid, Jack."
"Mm…I'll be the judge of that."
Fifteen minutes later and Celine had successfully smoked through half her joint. The tingles experienced earlier in the trip, re-ignited all over again. She felt like she was being prodded by a bunch of phantom hands and the urge to sink into the sand and let them claim her was nearly overwhelming
But she kept her focus on Joker, who lounged casually on the quilt by the fire, watching her expectantly.
She slowly removed the trip journal she'd kept safeguarded from him all day, bottom lip quivering. Her fingers took their time finding the page. A few steps closer to the fire were needed so she could comfortably read her own handwriting, though the moon was a pal and aided her too.
Upon finding the rap, her eyes scanned each line, smile growing into a grin before morphing into a few stray giggles.
"Not nice to keep your audience waiting, Cece."
She lifted the journal and hid the lower part of her face so only her eyes were visible to him.
"Just um…two things to remember. One…I was high out of my mind."
"No," he gasped. "I'm shocked."
She bit her lip.
"And…two…it wasn't Celine who wrote this. I…I mean it was…but I…wrote it through the perspective of…an older, jaded black man. Not a…middle aged white woman."
His brows shot up.
"You're white?" He looked her up and down. "Thought you were purple."
She smothered the journal against her mouth, working through a few chuckles, before pulling back and locating the first line.
Clearing her throat, she extended her right hand in the event she began to gesture. Which she suspected was very possible.
"Okay…um…here goes-
I-I'll beat a muthafucka no doubt,
Eat that pussy like sauerkraut
Queens got the number on speed dial
Cobwebs exist north of the Nile."
Her gaze briefly strayed up to him, but Joker was dead silent, and perhaps a little taken aback by the intro. She continued.
"all a hater ever was
heavy titties in them bras
lost my focus 'scuse this part
imma cum on this girl's heart
Mama saw me as a thug
all I needed was a hug
Beat my ass until I bled
I forget it with some head"
Her right hand was in full gesture mode, body rocking to the beat developing in her head.
"brothers hide when they see me stroll
hoes orbit around like a stripper pole
life gets good when I close my eyes
taste of heaven 'tween them thighs
fear of failure keep me square
puffin' 'til I'm short on air
deuces mama catch this verse
bangin' strippers in ya hearse
mile a minute run this brain
liquid honey keep me sane
heart's a beatin' check one two
how I vibe depend on you"
She made a fist, beat it twice against her chest, then shot him a sideways peace sign.
For a few seconds, she worried she'd broken Joker. Accidentally struck some manufacturer's reset button and he was awaiting commands to power on again. Yet again, she wondered where her phone was. No one would ever believe that she'd driven him into this state, least of all herself.
She wasn't prepared for his sudden howls of laughter nor his body dropping backwards and rolling back and forth, arms curled around his belly.
"Oooh hahahahaha hehehe ahahahahahahaha ohoo ahahahahahahaha-ha."
He choked on his own spit for a solid ten seconds, leaving her to wonder if she'd have to attempt some form of CPR on him.
"That-a…" He coughed a few times, pulling himself back up into a sitting position, wiping at his eyes. "That…oh sweets…that…ahahaha…"
He launched back into a slew of chest-heaving giggles that made him sound like he was crying more than laughing.
She wasn't in a headspace to feel embarrassed. Personally, she thought she'd done pretty well managing it all out. But she was curious to hear his thoughts…provided he didn't fall into a coma first.
He wove in and out of a fit for the next few minutes. In the midst of it, he seemed to realize oxygen wouldn't allow him to voice more than one or two words. So, he offered her a very sloppy round of applause, to which she bowed gracefully at.
Eventually, he was able to gather his breath, and his face was truly something to behold. Wet eyes, flushed face, permanent open-mouthed grin, and…joy. Not joy inspired by malice or destruction or a personal agenda. Just…joy.
"You're ah…gonna have to gimme a minute," he told her. "I think I'm gonna-."
Not a second later and he keeled over and puked into the sand.
She bit her lip, longing to approach, but respecting his boundaries. She could tell he'd been bombarded by a batch of new experiences today…it wouldn't do to control how he navigated them.
He spat a few more times into the sand, getting the last of yesterday's meal out.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He abruptly scampered up to his feet and started taking off his shoes. Then his socks. Followed by his tie and vest.
"Um…"
That's all she could answer with, thoroughly mesmerized by his erratic movements.
When he was finally down to his boxers, he looked her dead in the eyes.
"C'mon sweets, we're ah going swimming."
She took a step back, frowning a little.
"I…want to." Her gaze strayed to the beautiful shades of endless blue behind him, glittering beneath the silver moon. "But I-."
He waved her protests away.
"I'll make sure you don't drift off."
"But my hand-."
"Celine."
She straightened. It was the first time he'd said her name without an undertone of mockery to it.
"'M not gonna let anything happen to you out there, got it?"
Butterflies tickled her insides. His conviction made her want to weep.
"O-okay."
She slipped off her Hawaiian shirt, followed shortly by her tank top. Though hunger was present in Joker's gaze, he made no lewd comments, nor really said much of anything as she worked on sliding out of her shorts.
When she was down to her bra and underwear, he extended a hand and approached her. An alabaster glow illuminated his skin, leaving him to resemble the moon in human form.
She inhaled deeply before taking his hand.
The second her feet touched the water, a shiver coursed through her. Waves lapped at her ankles, making her giggle a little at their effort to reassure her.
He led her further out, grip tightening on her hand. She focused on nothing else but his touch. Reaffirming. Assured. Confident.
The ground beneath them was mostly a mix of sand, seashells, numerous pebbles, and sandstone. A few brushes of seaweed had her veering closer to Joker's side.
In no time she was waist-deep, working on her breathing. The ocean in her corner of the world was never ideal swimming temperature, even during the hottest months of the year. It was a running joke among fellow Mainers that they were exceptionally cold-blooded when compared to the rest of the country. They needed to be if they were to take advantage of all the water-based activities.
Although she'd been absent a year, Celine could feel that natural adjustability kicking in. The most important part was to breathe. Eventually, internal body temperature would find a balance with external setting.
Unsurprisingly, the water reached her chest quicker than it did Joker. She paused in place, not all that keen to venture any further out.
"T-this is good…for me," she said, trying to detach her hand. "I'll just…watch-."
Before she could finish that line of thinking, Joker was in front of her. He lifted the hand he was clutching – her right – and draped it over his shoulder.
"Slide your arm around my neck," he instructed, voice gravelly. "I'll do the rest."
"Y-you won't let me go?"
He smirked a little.
"Couldn't even if I wanted to."
She nodded and did as he said, bringing her body toward his and slinging her arm around him until the back of his neck was tucked into the crook of her elbow. He didn't need to guide her any further; it was as if her limbs knew what to do on their own.
Her left hand gripped onto his shoulder while each leg took its time wrapping around his waist. When she was properly secured, Joker slipped a muscled arm around her back and pulled her into him until they were pressed torso to torso.
"Hang on…unless you wanna end up a Canadian citizen."
She snorted at that, holding him tighter to her. His throat was inches away from her lips and she had to battle down the persistent temptation to pepper it with kisses.
Joker wandered out only a little further before he deemed their positioning adequate. The arm not clutching Celine to him, slid under her bottom. He gave into instinct and offered it a quick squeeze before pushing. She got the hint and used the water and her grip on his neck to claw a few inches up so her thighs were now more comfortably clamped around his upper stomach, heels digging into his back.
For a few seconds, neither of them moved. The water was as calm as a summer night in Maine allowed it to be. The moon basked them in an afterglow. Stars twinkled by the thousands. And Celine was…content.
Joker started to move them. First, in circles. Though he was careful, dizziness still found an opportunity to claim her. But it was pleasant. Her environment seemed to slow down long enough for her to inspect it closer. The fire roaring on the shore looked to extend at least twenty feet high. There was no horizon, but rather a uniform marriage of ocean and sky. Eyes up above blinked yellow, then pink, then turquoise. The wind carried with it a tint of neon green, worming and weaving like playful dragons.
Her eyes swiveled to her bandaged hand, hovering just a little over Joker's head. She couldn't prevent her mouth from stretching wide, fingers swaying back and forth. At some point she started to hum, head tilting from one side to another. Endless giggles got trapped in her chest, and their eventual implosion made her body vibrate.
The sound of a low voice got her attention. She glanced down.
"What…did you say?"
He shook his head, spewing out water from his mouth.
"Nothing."
She smiled and pressed her forehead against his. Her bandaged hand cupped the back of his skull.
"Tell me," she said. "Or I'll…I'll…kiss it out of you."
"Oh no," he rumbled. "Anything but that, I beg of you."
Biting her lip, she brought her free hand to his cheek.
"Don't you know what happens," she murmured, running her nose along his, "to clowns that…tease?"
"Mm…enlighten me."
Her parted mouth brushed his, tongue darting out. She never got around to answering.
The kiss was more delicate than either party believed themselves capable of exchanging. And it shot straight to their very centers, forcing their bodies so close that their heart rates were briefly in sync.
Celine gently traced Joker's scarred cheek with her thumb as her tongue stroked the underside of his and then the sides. She mewled when he returned the favor, fingers tightening in his hair. Joker meanwhile used the nails of his free hand to trail up her spine, eliciting a few shiver-inducing whimpers. This allowed him to push his mouth forth and take control of the kiss.
She could feel her face growing hot as his tongue swirled seamlessly around hers, then relented, then swirled again. A faint pressure dug into her inner thigh, twitching anytime her pelvis rocked forth to investigate. Each of their throats were sheltering a refugee of moans, and it was Celine who released hers first, pulling away to gather oxygen.
This did little to deter Joker, whose tongue laved the entire span of her jawbone before his teeth nabbed her earlobe and tugged.
"Fuh-uh-yuck," she moaned, panting quietly. "Please."
His teeth nabbed it again, this time, mouth suctioning in the sensitive piece of flesh before releasing it with a quiet pop! Her toes curled each time the puffy ridges of his scar brushed across her cheek, followed by his sandpapery stubble.
The quickly cooling saliva on her ear shot sensation after sensation into her tummy. She used the support around his neck to bring her pelvis forward and slowly grind her soaked center up the length of his cock.
This set free Joker's own moan, which barely sounded human to her ears.
"That…that-a…"
His struggle to find a coherent sentence made her entire body flush.
"I know," she whispered, kissing his shoulder, and resting her chin on it.
For the next little while Joker swam them around the perimeter. He would stand stock still, waiting for a wave to pass him, then push off in the direction of the shore, using it as a vehicle. She giggled each time he did this, tightening her hold on him. Something he picked up on because his takeoffs would become a little more daring, his push-offs a little more aggressive. Unabashedly, it was an excuse to keep her clinging to him for dear life. She neither had the heart nor desire to protest.
A few times, she herself felt adventurous. Both hands would grip Joker's shoulders as her head slowly lowered backwards. She managed to soak most of the back of her head, and that was more than enough for her considering she'd never believed her current scenario a possibility.
The water by now was warm, though she was half-convinced the raging heat in each of their bodies was responsible. Her uninjured hand would sometimes sink below and weave random little patterns that matched the fluidity of her thoughts.
At a certain point, Joker became stationary. His toes dug into the sand and he ceased all movement, taking to observing Celine's expressions. Her gaze was trained on the heavens, and she was blinking as if all of life's deepest secrets were being revealed to her.
He was tempted to steal her attention, but she seemed so lost in thought, and her pinched brows and jutting bottom lip were – you didn't hear it from him – kind of adorable.
"Do you dream?"
She looked down at him.
He arched a brow.
"Not anymore. Sleep schedules pretty ah fucked. It's rare I make it to the REM stage."
She frowned, thumb stroking the nape of his neck.
"I love dreaming," she said. "I even love the nightmares. The subconscious mind…is so bizarre…so creative…and yet…not all that…understood. Do you…what do you think they mean?"
He shrugged.
"Haven't ah given it much thought since I was…younger," he admitted, adding no inflections or pitches into his tone…speaking to her as…Jack. "Read a bit of Freud…talk about a man projecting his own psyche. Who analyzes psychologists anyway? That's the million-dollar question. Now Jung…I have an easier time getting on board with his concepts. The subconscious mind to me is…a vacuum. And this vacuum is always absorbing our surroundings, even if we're not pertinent to it. Our waking noggins are capable of remembering and dissecting only so much information…dreams serve as a…messenger. Between the conscious, identifiable self and the subconscious, abstract vacuum."
She tilted her head, considering his response.
"Do you think…the conscious self visits the vacuum for dreams…or do you think…the vacuum is sentient…and sends them out?"
"Mm…inclined to believe the former. It's like space." He looked up, eyes hopping from star to star. "Vast, empty, absorbent."
She followed his gaze.
"Take it you disagree?"
Her brows furrowed.
"What makes you say that?"
"You're a dreamer, kid. What ah was it you said in that church?"
She looked down at him.
"Love," he recalled with a squint, "love's the international language of a potentially conscious universe, right?
"You remembered that?"
He smirked a little, brown eyes twinkling.
"Not every day you hear someone broadcast their crazy instead of doing the smart thing and keeping it to themselves."
"Won you over," she mumbled lightly.
His laugh was loud and just the slightest bit deranged. He graced her with a sloppy smooch on the cheek.
"Sure did!"
She grinned, biting her lip.
"What's ah your takeaway then?" he asked, peering at her. "Brought up the topic for a reason."
"I- dreams have always…meant something to me. Be it…a message from…the subconscious. Or…a realm for…others to visit. But…more recently…well, right now…I can't help but wonder…"
Her forehead scrunched up. She shook her head.
"Nevermind."
"Now, now, none of that," he reprimanded, gaze narrowing. "Just 'cos I think you're crazy doesn't mean I don't like it. Lay it on me, sweets. What's your prognosis?"
"It's just a theory." She licked her lips and tried to gather her thoughts into a linear manner. "I've no…evidence. But…what if…during sleep your soul left your body and…traveled into a…parallel universe. And it…found the you there and entered your body while you slept. I mean…if parallel universes exist on the premise of being an outcome of made or unmade choices…then should your soul stumble into one where a relatively …innocuous choice was made…would you be able to tell the difference?"
Her eyes grew intense, seemingly gazing through Joker.
"Should the soul exist…and I believe it does…would its memory be somehow…somehow…transferrable to our physical brain?"
She focused back in on him. His expression radiated of skepticism.
"I know what you're thinking," she said. "Highly unlikely as…mathematics and the laws of physics tend to be…concrete and relative across the board…they would deny the existence of a soul on the merit of lacking an atomical form. But…that…those might just be…the laws in our universe. There's no way of knowing…how widely shared our mathematics and laws are."
He didn't answer right away. She took to playing with a few locks of his hair.
"What's the appeal of psychedelics?"
It wasn't the response she was expecting.
"How do you mean?"
He shrugged.
"Your behavior on them, avenues of thought…aren't what I expected. Tough for me to separate at times when it's you talking and when it's…you influenced by the mushrooms."
"Does it unnerve you that I sometimes make sense?"
"I asked first."
His grip on her tightened as a warning.
She nodded.
"Well…there's the obvious…visual and physical effects. That high is…unmatched. Then…death of the Ego. You don't realize how much it gets in the way of…seeing everything as it is. But cerebrally…in all of my experiences…I refer to it as the two A's. Amplification and…articulation. Sober me…used to hesitate a lot more. Burdened by…dissonance…and overthinking. With psychedelics…it's like everything that exists subconsciously…in my vacuum…reveals itself to me. Sometimes in bursts…sometimes…all at once. A…veil is peeled back. I see the man behind the curtain in Oz. I see who controls the marionette. And there is no…uncertainty. No…second guessing. When faced with the truth…I cannot look away…nor do I want to. It's an indescribable feeling. I often think…it's what happened to Buddha…when he became enlightened."
He considered her answer with a squint.
"But what's been most profound is…they've allowed me to forgive myself in such a tender way. It's…the closest to a divine presence I've ever come."
"Grace," he quoted. "Clemency, equanimity. Everything I've ever wanted exists within."
Her heart melted a little.
"You remembered."
He ignored her remark.
"Belief," he stated. "That's what you get out of them."
"Yes. Of the purest kind."
"Hm."
She sensed he was conflicted by her admission. As she debated whether to entertain his questions, a feeling of warmth enveloped the lower half of her body. Her brows shot together.
She glanced down, unable to detect anything unusual. Or really much of anything considering the world was still an ever-fluctuating pattern of symbols and colors.
When she looked back up, Joker was wearing a shit-eating grin.
It dawned on her instantly.
"Did you just pee?"
"Third time, if we wanna get tech-nical about it. You only just noticed?" His whistle was drawn out. "Amazing you can be so bright and unaware at the same time."
"I-." She was momentarily at a loss on what to say. "Is this a grizzly bear thing? They pee…to mark their territory. This doesn't make the ocean yours."
His grin was devilish.
"Not the ocean I was trying to mark."
Her face got hot. It didn't help things any when Joker leaned in, placed his mouth around the pulse point in her neck and abruptly blew raspberries into it.
"Argh!" she squealed, nearly loosening her grip altogether.
Joker of course took only the most perverse delight in her helplessness. With his free hand he reached down and pinched her bottom.
"Sexual deviant!" she accused. "Rascal! Miscreant! Molester of innocent bunnies!"
"Mm," he breathed against her, "yes, yes, yes, and uh yes. Four for four, sweets. You're on a roll."
He pinched her bottom again, causing her squirms to reignite.
Naturally, he could have done this all evening (and he was sorely tempted to), but he'd begun to feel – even if Celine didn't – prune marks developing on her skin. Just as well, he'd been taking discrete glances toward the shoreline and the fire looked like it could use a bit of care and attention. Both things he was more than happy to provide.
Celine wasn't immediately aware they were heading back, taking to burying her face in his neck. Initially it was mostly to hide her very prominent blush, though she may or may not have given his skin a few slow licks. Often, it was when he kept his mouth shut that he was at his most tempting. Or so was the case currently.
The next little while passed by in a bit of a daze for her. She was half-aware of Joker making it back onto the shore and depositing her none so gently onto the quilt. She remembered getting a bad case of the shivers and her nipples hurting from how cold being out of the water felt (Joker may or may not have gotten an eyeful of her dilemma).
As he tended to the fire, she remembered spending a few minutes searching for her clothes. Which was very nearly unnecessary as within two minutes Joker had restored the fire back to its former glory.
He must have found her Hawaiian shirt because he handed it to her to slip on a few seconds later. She did, though wasn't entirely sure why it was so long and wide in the shoulders. It was while investigating this mystery that Joker asked her if she wanted to smoke more of her joint.
"Yes please," she answered, temporarily abandoning her inquiry.
A few more hits and her body had returned to Tingle City. As she rocked back and forth staring at the fire, occasionally releasing a stream of giggles that only made sense to her, she felt Joker's gaze on her. When she looked, he was resting on an elbow on his side, clad only in his boxers. Pride resonated from him, but she hadn't a clue as to why.
His attention got her to thinking.
"Okay," she said, crawling on her hands and knees toward him, blissfully unaware of how rock hard he was watching her do this dressed only in her undergarments and his shirt. "I'm gonna ask you to…do something. It's so…such a…mindfuck. Well…maybe not. You said you knew…you know…Russian?"
She was resting on her knees in front of him. Joker's gaze struggled to ascend above her chest.
"Mhm," was his non-committal response.
"It's not Russian," she explained, pulling back some of the quilt. "Slavic word. Tell me…if you don't already know…how you would pronounce this."
He finally payed something other than her body attention when she began to write in the sand, tongue caught between her teeth.
"How do you say this?"
He reluctantly pushed up, knelt beside her, and took in her scrawl. Though a little choppy, it read: Ljubljana.
"It's a city," he recalled, cocking his head. "Eastern Europe, right?"
"Capital of Sl-Slova-no…Slovenia. Pronounce it for me."
His saliva glands ached just looking at it. He tried to think back to how the Slavs he encountered in Gotham articulated their words.
"Lew-blee-AH-nah."
Her mouth popped open.
"Fuck!"
"Was I right?"
"Yes."
He smirked, pleased with himself.
"I just-." She ran a hand through her hair before gesturing at the word. "It's a word that seems to…to…defy English language logic. The first time…the first time I saw it, I pronounced it-." She closed her eyes, thinking back. "L-jub-lah-jana. No, no, no…that's not right. The first time I saw it, I tried to pronounce it…but my tongue gave up halfway through."
He examined the word again.
"Slavs like their consonants."
"They do, they do," she agreed.
Her eyes widened. She grabbed his bicep.
"Oh…have you seen…" She peered around once, as if fearing whoever she was about to bring up next might be in the vicinity. "Welsh. Welsh, Jack, Welsh! It's like…like…someone unleashed a firing squad on the alphabet… fatally wounding all of the vowels!"
"That so?"
He made a mental note to later research how accurate this was.
"Yes!" Her hands suddenly were very animated. "This is why…when I encounter words like…Ljubljana…I always, always, always make sure to hear someone else say it first before I try pronouncing it publicly."
"Sage advice." He chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering how to take advantage of the opportunity presenting itself. "Why ah don't you come sit somewhere more…comfortable, hm? Tell me about all the languages you'd like outlawed, and ah I'll see what I can do."
Nearly an hour later, mid-sentence, Celine suddenly froze and looked down.
She was resting atop Joker's thighs, legs coiled around his waist, arms hanging loosely over his shoulders.
"Ha-have I been sitting in your lap this entire time?"
Joker offered her a half shrug, stroking the skin beneath the waistband of her panties.
"More or less. You ah looked so comfy; didn't have heart to evict ya. Think this might be your new home from now on."
"Oh." Her eyes widened. "Do I have to pay rent? Property taxes? Water? Heat? Electric?"
He nuzzled her neck, nose grazing a path to her earlobe. She tried but failed to suppress her giggles.
"We'll work out a…mutually beneficial arrangement."
Minutes later and Celine was passionately explaining her thoughts on color theory.
"Certain colors…are meant to stir up certain emotions," she said. "We take for granted how…influential color is. Take…scratch-offs for example. There's an art to designing them. Key colors…red, gold, silver, green. They all capture the eye for different reasons…invoke specific emotions and associations…you don't see black…or brown...not on their own anyway…they would be paired with lighter colors to…offset their traditionally…darker associations. Or…you…for example."
His brows rose.
"Me?"
"You," she repeated, rubbing her palms over his shoulders. "What you wear to encompass…Joker. Did you…choose the colors for your clothes? Or did your tailor…think them up?"
He scratched his chin, considering her question.
"I had a general idea of what I wanted…can't say there was any intentional psychology behind it, just chose what felt…right."
"Subconsciously, then. In your vacuum, you'd already formed…connections between color and meaning," she said. "Purple. Associated traditionally with royalty…wealth…luxury. It used to be…difficult to extract this color. Expensive. Accessible usually to high members of society. Anarchist you might be, money you might not care for…but royal you consider yourself or your cause, to be. Or…or…maybe that's the intriguing irony to it…someone wearing colors associated with wealth, royalty…dismantling order, society, the concept of…currency."
"Huh."
He was engaged with her line of thinking because it was doing something so few had the power to do – teach him something new about himself. Then again, she seemed to have perfected that talent without even trying.
"Green." She twirled one of his wavy locks around a finger. "Universally, nature."
She shook her head, biting her lip.
"It's all starting to come together." She sounded dazzled, as if she only had four jigsaw pieces left before completing a 2,000-piece puzzle. "A force of nature…generally calming, but…you turn that one on its head too. Money…as if that matters to someone like you. For you to…dye your hair…your hair, Jack, your hair…long, unkempt, uneven…dyeing it the color of money…of nature…oh gosh…intentional or not, your coordination is all quite…clever. Red over your scars, over your smile…black around the eyes…"
She appeared to have stunned herself into silence.
Joker, on the other hand, was strangely flattered she'd even gone through the trouble of breaking down the colors he wore and interpreting their deeper meanings. Once she laid it all out, it seemed obvious. In fact, that no doctor at Arkham even bothered making an in-depth analysis proved that a) there needed to be a mass overhaul and b) it was best Celine never pursued a career as a psychologist there, he might have actually stood a chance at being rehabilitated…whatever that meant.
Clever she'd called it. Called him.
He was not someone that payed others compliments, not genuine ones anyway. He wasn't even sure how to structure one without it sounding condescending, cruel, or sexual. But for her, he found himself – as was the reoccurring theme of the day – willing to make an exception.
You are one smart fucking cookie, he considered saying, and I wouldn't mind taking a bite. I want you in my mouth. Sexually, not, cannibalistically. Unless you're into it. I'm a flexible guy.
He grimaced. God damn, he was rusty.
"-was the color of mine anyway."
Cocking his head, he returned his attention to her.
"Hm?"
"My soul," she repeated. "I've…glimpsed it before. Gold…like…a ball of light."
She frowned suddenly and peered at him. Her expression crumbled into one of such profound sadness that he immediately felt panic flare up within him.
"I've seen yours," she said so softly he wasn't sure if he heard her correctly. "So much black surrounding it. I…when I found out…I thought I was being punished. Maybe the universe…was conducting a practical joke."
"When you found out what?"
Her mouth formed around a silent declaration.
"You are…my…soulmate."
He exhaled sharply, laughing a little.
"Yeah?" he goaded. "How do ya figure?"
"I was…shown. Three days ago."
"Mhm…by who?"
"Agatha. She's my…spiritual mentor."
He thought back to three days ago. Was that whose shop she'd been cooped up in?
"At first, I was…skeptical, horrified, betrayed, disgusted. You, my soulmate? You? A gun to the temple was a preferable fate."
He frowned at that, not say anything. It was a conflicting situation…he didn't believe her but felt insulted nevertheless that she would find him such a repulsive life companion. Which…granted, he was…but that wasn't an admission he wanted to hear come from her lips. And that he even cared what she thought had him feeling wildly agitated.
"I have no soul," he deadpanned. "Can't be mated to something that isn't there."
"I have no soul," she repeated, lowering her voice to an intimidating grumble. "Lucifer is my father, I like kicking puppies in my free time, my ideal season is a nuclear winter…rah rah rah, hiss hiss hiss, snarl snarl snarl."
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or slash her throat.
"I-I think I can prove it," she followed up. "I think. This whole trip I've been…tuned in to you. I mean…since we met, I've never not been tuned in to you, but today…it's been exceptionally strong. You just…have to promise me something."
His gaze narrowed. Was this even worth entertaining? He'd met a lot of delusional people in his life; Celine wasn't one who fell into that category. Which meant she truly believed what she was saying. It couldn't hurt to offer her at least a brief suspension of disbelief, could it? Worse case scenario, he got a good belly laugh out of it.
"What?"
"Don't harm me." She maintained eye contact with him, refusing to blink. "If I touch upon a truth…you have to promise you won't…harm me for it."
He opted for honesty.
"Can't guarantee you that."
The pain that flashed across her face made him wish he responded differently. In truth, he could probably contain the instinct. But he found himself hesitant in revealing that to her. It was a sick, ingrained form of logic in him…always keep others just a little bit uneasy. Otherwise, that power was no longer his alone.
"Okay," she settled on. "That's fair."
Her soft acceptance had him struggling not to kiss her.
She straightened in his lap and clasped her hands together. Her eyes dropped down to his chest, brows furrowing together in concentration.
Earlier, she had compared his energetic presence to a wasp's nest. The events of the last couple of hours, however - whether he was aware of it or not – had calmed the buzzing down significantly. Furthermore, though the tar was still thick, her lifeforce was much more potent, much bolder.
She focused all of her energy on barreling through the tar.
Memories danced in her mind's eye. Him helping her up after she'd fallen off the treehouse steps. Him wearing her flower crown. Him re-bandaging her hand. Him carrying her on his back. Him guiding her out into the ocean. Holding her close. Making sure she didn't drift away.
A tear leaked out. She channeled the love she felt for him in those moments…pure, unfiltered, absolute.
The tar was terrified of the light speeding toward it. Celine's fingers parted and curled.
You have held him hostage far too long.
She burst through, eyes clamping shut.
"Oh."
Images flashed before her. She caught glimpses of Joker…aged six, aged ten, aged fourteen, aged twenty, aged twenty-six, now.
"I was wrong," she voiced, brows nearly touching. "In your dating profile. Thirty-four I said."
He stiffened beneath her.
"You're older than me by three months and…twenty-one days." She cocked her head. "You…you're kidding me."
She couldn't help but free a few giggles.
"You were born on April Fool's Day?"
His heart nearly plummeted into his stomach.
"Joker really is the most fitting title," she marveled, mouth parted. "Your sense of humor…no one can take that away from you. Do you still celebrate?"
She was waiting for him to respond.
He struggled to unclench his jaws.
"I'm tuning in to you," she answered his unspoken thought. "You ever watch Price is Right? You make it onto the stage, and you have to spin the wheel. Your memories…they're like the wheel. I can't…slow down the spinning…but certain memories…I get a clearer glance at. Can you feel me in there? Close your eyes, slow down your breathing, and relax. I'll try to say hi."
In only a few seconds, she had robbed him of the ability to speak.
"I can sever the connection, if you'd like," she told him. "As I said before, I don't want to infringe on territory you're not comfortable with. I'll say this…never in my life have I been able to do this. I…have always been gifted at picking up on people's emotions…getting hints of their thoughts…but never anything remotely like this. If that's not proof that we're cosmically linked…that there's an energetic cord connecting us to one another…I don't know what is."
Joker's chest burned. He'd not realized until that moment he had stopped breathing.
Two emotions commandeered his attention. Anger and intrigue. Anger screamed at the top of its lungs, demanding possession of his body. But his focus was on intrigue, who wore a jester's cap and hopped from foot to foot, wearing a mischievous smile.
When presented with the choice, he went with what stimulated his mind over what stimulated his body.
"Tread carefully," he warned her. "Or I will snap your neck."
"Noted."
That she was so calm about this made him relax just the slightest.
She got a big grin on her face moments later.
"Awww."
He narrowed his gaze.
"Wha-t?"
"You…you loved South Park. Cartman was your favorite character. Hm, figures. You….geez, Jack…how many times did you watch the Scott Tenorman episode?"
He tried and failed to contain his smirk. Out of all the things she could have chosen to air out, he was secretly glad it was this. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. He was horrible at revealing things about himself, and frankly had forgotten how he used to pass the time before disorder became his main priority.
"Lost count," he answered. "That uh…was the best episode Matt and Trey ever did. The ending is a masterpiece. Told them as much."
"You've met them?"
"Wrote to 'em," he corrected, scratching his chin. "I was a bored twenty-something, looking to kill some time. No one had the balls to do their kinda comedy. I also had a uh outline idea for an episode I sent…though ah I don't think they took to it. They wrote back thanking me for the support but advising me to seek psychological help."
She giggled at that, biting her lip.
"How bad could the idea have been to disturb even them?"
"Mm…memory's a little foggy, but if I recall correctly it involved Garrison getting caught accidentally exposing himself to his students…to try and take the heat off, he drugs the school principal with ecstasy, films a buncha rottweilers gangraping her, and ends up winning a film festival."
Her mouth fell.
"Christ."
"Much funnier in my head then on paper."
"You're lucky you weren't put on a watchlist."
He grinned fondly.
She was quiet for nearly a minute before her face scrunched up.
"What?" he demanded.
"I…you watched these films…oh…you were into some sick shit, Jack."
She stated it as a fact, not as an insult. Joker sifted through his memories, wondering which movies she was talking about.
"Ah." He smiled a little. "Gotta be talking 'bout the August Underground films. That-a…was a peculiar phase. Knew I had all the makings of a great killer…just didn't know where to harness it…serial killer or mass killer…serial or mass. Those movies…excited me."
"Do they still?"
He shrugged.
"Outgrew 'em. House of a 1,000 Corpses is more my speed. There's gotta be joy in torture. No fun if they're killing with such…seriousness."
She didn't follow this up with anything and he was mildly grateful. It was best she never know the full scale of the sick shit he was into, and just how much of it he used to jerk off to.
"You used to steal books from the library. When you were done reading them, you'd strip off all the district address stickers and sell them."
His scars twitched.
"In my defense, they would only let ya lease the books out for a week. Much too short a time frame. And some… I didn't feel like giving back."
"You've still got one," she said, brows pinching together. "Sun Tzu's The Art of War…how appropriate. I liked that one too. What's the one quote…the way of war is-."
"-the way of deception," he finished. "When able, feign inability. When deploying troops, appear not to be. When near, appear far. When far, appear near. Lure with bait…strike with chaos."
She smiled.
"You've used that one to strategize many a time."
"Tzu knew his stuff," he said, unable to keep the admiration from his voice. "And war really is an art. It's all too fast nowadays. Drones take all the scheming out of it. Countries fight proxy wars with technology and surveillance. No one's invested. You ah told your uncle I was ex-military, which tickles me as I'd sooner let Crane perform a lobotomy on me than become government pro-perty…especially a government as megalomaniacal as this one. But if I had been, I'd-a brought back a little finesse to war. A little imagination. Slow it down and raise the stakes."
"Hm." She pursed her lips. "I think we should all count ourselves lucky. It's likely you would have brought about another world war."
He smirked.
"You really know how to flatter a guy. And I still could. Only a few connections away from some very important people who possess some very big, red buttons. Maybe if I become terminal…as a last little gift to myself."
"I should be more disturbed to hear that."
His grin was wolfish.
"You're not 'cos it's me…soul-mate."
Her heart stuttered. Instantly, the connection was severed. She slowly opened her eyes.
"You…acknowledged it."
"Tough not to after being read like an instruction manual." He cocked his head, eying her up and down. "Soulmates, huh? Hm…stranger things in this world I guess."
Her brows rose.
"Such as?"
"Cinnamon flavored toothpicks. Televangelists. A North Dakota and a South Dakota. Sperm banks."
She didn't bother holding back her laughter. Again, it felt as if she'd been relieved of a heavy weight.
"So ah…that tuning in ya just did," he ventured. "It go both ways?"
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "You could try."
He closed his eyes but saw nothing.
"You have to focus," she told him. "Steady your breathing, clear your mind…let…your feelings toward me, guide you."
"Do sexual ones count?"
"I don't see why not."
His breathing slowed. For a few minutes, he was quiet.
She sensed his frustration before it physically or verbally revealed itself.
"Maybe the mushrooms were responsible," she offered. "Or the years of meditation. I…could call Agatha. See if she knows."
He opened his eyes.
"Don't bother."
An uncomfortable sort of silence formed. It made Celine itchy in the worst way possible.
"I won't abuse it, you know."
He seemed committed not to speak, frown growing by the second.
"And I have no idea if I could do it again. Even now, you're more closed off to me than before. I honestly think it happened….so that you could experience the evidence for yourself."
When this failed to rouse a response, she sighed and went to move off him. Just as quickly, he had a hand in the back of her hair.
"I'm going to say this once."
His voice was frostbite, eyes a lifeless abyss. She blinked once to let him know he had her attention.
"If you ever tune in like that again without my permission." His fingers slowly tightened into a fist. "I will kill every single person you love. And I'll make you watch, then kill you too. Do you understand?"
She was infinitely grateful to be coming down from the mushrooms. Had she been peaking and heard those words, no amount of reaffirmations could have prevented the trip from heading south. His threat was not made lightly, nor for show. He would act first, consider the consequences second.
"I understand."
He took his time releasing her. The minute he did, she cupped the back of her skull and massaged her screaming roots. A few tears involuntarily leaked out.
Neither of them spoke for the next little while.
Dread longed to fester in Celine's gut, but she still had the clarity of higher consciousness as a deterrent. When looking past the threat, she saw…a frightened man voicing it. A man who relied on intimidation when faced with discomfort. A man who had long ago closed himself off from the world and conditioned himself to accept the worst in everyone and everything.
For as beautiful and right as it felt to connect with him on such a spiritual level, she recognized how disorienting and revealing it had to be for him. Especially not having access to her the same way she did him.
Did he smile even once as a child?
She'd had the chance to delve in deeper into those images but chose not to out of instinct. They spoke for themselves, as did the decision to slice his scars upward. Now, he was always smiling, never sad.
"Thank you."
He'd been glaring at the fire but looked at her when she spoke.
"For what?"
She was delicate with her word choice. A sour sort of tension still lingered in the air.
"Letting me see you, even if just in spurts. I know it's not easy not being in control. I know something in you expects the worst out of me no matter what I say or do. I know you're doing your best to adapt to someone wanting to know you in ways you're not yet ready to reveal yourself. If it means anything at all…I-." Her gaze fell to her lap. "-Had the chance to see your more…vulnerable moments. To better understand what made you…this. I didn't…for two reasons. The first is…it's not in my nature to trespass into territory of that severity. Pain is personal, you alone decide when it no longer has to be. The second…is…"
Her bottom lip trembled. She blinked a few times, nails sinking into her thighs.
"I…don't think I could bear to see you like that. It would hurt me beyond anything I can express. You are…my soulmate. What all that entails, I don't fully know. But there is one thing I am certain of…"
She gently took the hand resting on his stomach and brought it to her chest. His palm scorched her skin; she desired nothing more than to burn.
"My heart…beats for you." She met his eyes. "Your highs are mine, your lows are mine, your thoughts, desires, fears, insecurities…are mine. So long as you carry a pulse, I'll do my best to ensure…you never return to that place again."
His expression bordered a fine line between suspicion and longing. It was obvious he wanted badly to believe her but did so at the expense of surrendering to a force more powerful and unpredictable than he.
"How do you want me to respond to that?"
His tone was flat, seemingly unaware of the conflict occurring on his face.
"It's not for you to respond to."
This surprised him. He looked down to his hand, then up at her eyes.
"It's for you to find solace in."
For a long while, he didn't answer. Nor did he remove his hand.
Meanwhile, Celine could start to feel the exhaustion of the day weighing down upon her. Her eyelids drooped, and a yawn was developing in the back of her throat.
"You'll regret saying all this in the morning."
She smiled sadly and shook her head.
"That's the scary thing. I don't think I will."
They sat in the same position for close to a half hour, neither of them speaking. At one point, she closed her eyes just for a few seconds to rest. It'd been not only an emotionally taxing day, but a physically one too.
When she opened them again, she was ascending the cliff stairs. Initially, amazement overcame her. She was floating!
Upon a closer inspection, she discovered this not to be the case. Joker had his arms secured around her back while her arms and legs were coiled lazily around his neck and hips.
This realization made her smile into the side of his throat. If he felt it, he didn't let on.
She was half-alert by the time he made it to the top, and even less so as he was lowering her into her bed.
"Where do you want me to sleep?"
He hovered uncertainly in only his boxers. She squinted at him, still wearing his shirt.
"Wherever you feel…most comfortable."
He wasted no time slipping into bed with her.
Within a few short seconds, his chest was pressed up against her back, his legs tangled up with her own, and one arm draped over her waist. When she fell asleep, it was to the soothing sensation of his nose resting against the nape of her neck.
I've not slept in a few days, so apologies if there's any grammatical/spelling errors. Will fine tune when I'm more well-rested. In regards to the content of Celine's trip journal:
- The untitled poem Joker read in the treehouse, carrying a line that is the title of this story, is a poem I had written for a class almost two years ago. I regret not publishing it, it's one of my favorite things I've ever produced, and true to form, is about my first magic mushroom experience
- Celine's "rap" I wrote a year back while on an edible
I can't believe I've found a way to utilize both, the rap especially. I thought I'd go to the grave with that one *insert nervously sweating laugh emoji*
Quick shoutout to users Vantablack Valentina and Bluebearsweetie, you both left some of the kindest reviews I've ever received, and ones I went back through whenever morale got low. Thank you so very much, I appreciate them more than you know.