No Good Deed: Chapter Two
Renee had little room to complain tonight even though she was still getting the hang of the crutches. Her injury had forced her into a temporary desk job. She preferred being more proactive and the paperwork was mind-numbing, but she had to admit she needed a break from the stress that came with working the beat. However, tonight was not about work.
It was her first venture out on the town since being attacked and she took it slow, heading for her favorite hangout. Familiar faces greeted her while she was presented with familiar drinks. One not so familiar face caught her eye.
Renee didn't think she had much of a shot with a busted leg, but it turned out to be a great conversation starter. Her injury led to her profession, which led to some interesting stories and that always did the trick. She never had to tell any of the one's she didn't feel comfortable sharing, so long as it had the taste of the bizarre. The not so familiar face was impressed enough to accompany the detective home and Renee was hoping she'd become real familiar before the night was up.
Unfortunately, she didn't account for the possibility of a ditzy female clown crashing through her window that night.
Harley was speaking so fast it was completely inaudible. Not that either woman would have registered what she had to say anyway. Their brains were too busy trying to come to terms with the scene before them. They were frozen in place, mouths agape, staring at the animated person in front of them as she tried to explain…something.
After looking the spandexed-clad female up and down, Renee's guest finally said, "Listen, I don't know what you thought was going to go down here tonight, but I'm out." She grabbed her things and abruptly left.
Renee saw no point in trying to stop her and explain, mostly because she didn't have an explanation. She took her frustration out on Harley instead.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she demanded
"That's what I was trying to tell you," Harley replied in annoyance. "Here, let me start over." She took a deep breath and started rambling at about ninety miles per hour, "OhmygodYouhavetogonowHeknows whereyouliveandit'snotmyfault…" She went on like this for awhile, but Renee didn't seem to be paying attention.
"Oh god, you know where I live!" the detective realized. "Another kook is following me home."
Harley began grabbing various garments out of drawers, not caring what they were, in an attempt to pack. "YouhavetopackI'llhelpI'magoodpackerI'vehadlotsofpractice…Of course, I know where you live. I brought you home. Remember? Shoesyou''llneedoneandyoucan'tstaywithme…" Harley moved from one subject to another, changing pace with ease.
"I do remember. I just…kinda tried to block out that whole night. I didn't want to think about it," she admitted.
Harley had given up explaining anything until Renee was ready to hear it. "That's the problem with my profession. What the hell is the point of havin' a breakthrough if you are just going to pretend like it never happened?"
"Why are you here again?" she asked, pointedly ignoring Harley's comment.
Harley sighed. "Harv knows you're here," she said simply.
"What! How?"
"I might've…sorta…kinda…accidentally told him," Harley confessed. "I didn't mean to!" she continued before Renee could protest. "He was pretty angry with me, seein' as how I shot you and everything. It just…slipped."
Renee didn't see any point in getting mad. She just sulked instead. "That means I have to move again. This will be the third time I've had to change addresses because of him."
Harley tried to get things moving. She didn't know how long they had. "Listen, pack what you need to, but we have to leave evidence that will prove you live here. Otherwise, he'll think I lied and that won't be good. Do you have a place to stay?"
Renee groaned at the thought. "Yeah, I've got a place I can go, but I don't want to. Let's get this over with and for god's sake put on something normal. If you're going to help me, you can't go out like that."
The detective started packing as Harley went into another room to change into something of Renee's. "Don't you have anything…pretty?" she yelled from the other room.
"No!" Renee yelled back.
Harley sighed and threw on a loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "This is so butch," she complained as she emerged in her new garb, before changing subjects. "He would've started a gang war all because of you. How sweet is that? I wish Mistah J would do something like that for me."
Renee decided against pointing out how twisted Harley's idea of a compliment was and, instead, asked the question that had been bugging her. "Why'd you come warn me? Why are you helping me at all?"
"Why didn't you call the cops on me after I got you home?" Harley returned the question. "But to answer you, I'm not sure," she admitted. "…It just felt like the thing to do. This whole thing is kinda my fault."
"Kinda?" Renee encouraged.
"Okay, it's totally my fault. I think I just like that you saw something in someone that everyone else had written off. I can appreciate that."
Renee accepted the answer and was surprised when it occurred to her that she was allowing Harley to help her at all.
"We need to hail a cab," Renee said as they started downstairs. Harley was carrying the suitcase as the detective was having enough trouble with the crutches.
Soon they were sitting side by side in the backseat of the cab in silence. Harley hated uncomfortable silences. "How's the leg?" Harley probed, mostly to make conversation.
"It's getting there," Renee answered simply. Apparently, silence wasn't so uncomfortable to her.
After arriving at their destination, Harley announced, "This place is a dump!"
"I know," Renee agreed. "I told you I didn't want to come here."
They continued upstairs until Renee finally stopped at a particular door and knocked. An overweight, sloppy, and (in Harley's opinion) flat-out disgusting man answered the door, not caring where he was scratching himself.
"Montoya? You alright?" the man asked, surprised to see her.
"I'm fine Bullock, but if it's alright with you, I really need a place to crash."
"Sure thing," Bullock agreed with obvious concern. "But what's the deal…" That's when his eyes fell on Harley and, even though he didn't know the details, he guessed what was going on pretty quickly. Seeing that Renee was unharmed, he felt free to return to his usual self, which typically felt the need to pick on his former partner.
"Did you're boyfriend look you back up? Awww! And look, you're meeting all his little friends," he teased while looking Harley up and down.
"Grow up, Bullock!" Renee shot back.
"I can't leave you with him," Harley said sincerely. "He's all gross! Do you know what a bath is?" she insulted the large man.
"I'm gross?" He turned to Renee incredulously. "She screws the Joker, but I'm gross. That might be the worst insult I've ever gotten."
"Congratulations," Renee smiled at Harley and she smiled back. "But I'll be fine. Me and Bullock go way back."
"Is she staying with us? Because I'm all for that," he insinuated.
"Ewww!" Harley gagged.
"HARVEY! I swear! Shut up and get inside!" screeched Renee, giving the large man a deadly glare.
"His name's Harvey too?" Harley asked amazed. "…Girl, if that isn't a sign, I don't know what is."
"And you can leave now, Quinn. Thanks for your help and never look me up again." Renee pushed past Bullock into the apartment.
"…Are we not taking her in?" Bullock questioned.
"No!" Renee shouted. "I just want to go to sleep and forget this day ever happened."
Bullock shrugged and shut the door, leaving Harley alone in the hallway.
Harley felt the exit was lukewarm but there wasn't much she could do about it. She headed for the roof of the building, changed back into her bodysuit, and once again expertly navigated the rooftops of Gotham back to where she came from.
Before she reentered her temporary home, she could smell something burning. Harley groaned. She hoped Mistah J hadn't tried burning the victim he was playing with when she left. She'd learned the smell of burning flesh tended to linger a long time. It didn't quite match that smell though, she realized. That's when it hit her. "My pot roast!" she exclaimed with panic.
She rushed inside and found her Puddin' towering directly in front of her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had obviously already noticed the state of his dinner because the blackened pot roast had been removed from the oven and was mocking her from the stove top. Harley tried to explain where she'd been, but she realized he wouldn't care and it just came out in a series of stammered syllables.
Joker took her roughly by the arm and escorted her into the kitchen.
"KNEEL!" he bellowed.
Harley didn't know what he was about to do, but as always, did what she was told.
He then opened the oven door, thrust her head inside, and slammed it back over her skull as hard as he could. The oven was still hot and Harley was overwhelmed with pain both from the burning and the impact. The door fell open again and Joker left her there in annoyance.
Her body slumped to the kitchen floor. Yup, definitely too much 'Leave It to Beaver', was Harley's last thought as she drifted out of consciousness.
END