"Oh honestly," he groaned. "The display of force is just trite."
He had the slightly regal, slightly annoyed air of a cat, and she could tell it set Knauer's teeth on edge, but the security head made a show of ignoring him, though Harley knew he hadn't taken his eyes off of Jack once since they left her office. No doubt he was trying to read the other man's intention, though Harley herself knew what a fruitless exercise that was. She'd ceased wondering what exactly Jack was up to, though she had the sinking feeling he was definitely up to something.
"An unavoidable precaution, I'm afraid, Captain. I had to negotiate to even secure you a pass outside of the hospital. You're lucky I got you this."
He made a humming noise that was somewhere between a purr and a growl, an indescribable noise that didn't even seem human.
"Yes, ah, but I'm surprised they didn't bring out the leg irons, maybe an orange jumpsuit to make me easier to see, HELLO BOYS!" The sudden volume of his voice shook her to the core, and she noticed Knauer tensing imperceptibly as he stopped at the sliding doors, his self-assigned position for their hour outside.
The Captain's voice echoed up between the two flanking walls of the hospital's rear and middle wing. Looking up, she could see a tiny glint of light as one of the scopes seven stories above her caught the sun, probably a little twitch from the guard holding it. She had no idea how he knew they were up there, no doubt they were just as perplexed.
"You're hinting you feel like a prisoner, Captain?" Her heels echoed as well, though nowhere near as loud as his voice. The paved courtyard continued down a small grade, from there to a set of stairs that led to a low, grassy field. The entire thing sloped about half a mile out into the lake the hospital was named for, and on its edges, the very thing that had everyone so worried. Ten square miles of densely forested park. He had not even half a mile, and they would never be able to find him.
"Hinting? Really! I was attempting to apply it with a mallet, Harley-girl, but I haven't any pockets large enough to fit one, so I suppose hinting will have to do."
She rolled her eyes, the tone of the conversation changing almost imperceptibly, but it was not beneath her notice. As tense as she still felt, it was becoming difficult to continue to be wary of him when he sounded like a petulant three-year old.
"I apologize again, Captain."
"Oh, is that what you call it?"
She scoffed in frustration at his consistent interruptions, and he grinned at her. She narrowed her eyes slightly in return. Get a hold of yourself, Harleen, she thought, remember how manipulative he can be. Don't forget why you have to have the pistol. She couldn't help but eye the treeline as they approached it, closer and closer. Finally, she had to stop, could not in good conscience allow him to edge any farther.
"I apologize again," she repeated. "But they believe you represent a flight risk."
"A fl—oh bless their souls, they're frightened I'll go AWOL." He let out a bark of laughter, but he had been staring at the trees, she'd seen the dart of his eyes. "How quaint. It's such a change, you know, no one used to be afraid of old Jack, but look at you now. What happened to you, people? Or maybe the question is, what happened to me?"
He paused for a moment, tongue pressing at the corner of his mouth thoughtfully, and she finally realized what had been niggling at the back of her mind, what she had been unable to focus on when he was passing the time of day by strangling the life out of her: his sutures were gone.
"Your face is healing well." She seized upon the distraction, strolling casually beside him, carefully altering their course away from the forest. He arched an eyebrow as though to show that she still wasn't fooling him, silly girl for even trying, but followed her nonetheless. Her statement was half true, of course, because while the incisions were finally closed of their own accord, the scarring was horrible, there was no denying that.
"As well as can be expected, right Doc?"
"Yes… I'm aware of your attempts at… self-mutilation." She ended her path beneath the only tree that occupied the field, the rest having been cleared away in the name of progress long ago. The first branch was some ten feet in the air, and she watched in astonishment as he half-jumped, half-scrambled up the side of the tree, just getting high enough to catch. It was mainly his arms that did the work, only a single dismissive push of his bare foot against the tree as he hoisted himself up, hooked one leg over the limb, and climbed higher.
"Self-mutilation? Oh no, no, that's all wrong. That's far too calculated a term for what really went on." He peered down at her from the tree and she turned her head as the flashing lights began again, a flutter of activity on the roof as they tried unsuccessfully to get a bead on him. No doubt Knauer was having a coronary inside.
"Then what would you call it, Captain?"
"Call it… my coping mechanism." There was a large, nearly horizontal branch about seventeen feet off the ground, and he stretched himself along it, lounging and looking rather pleased with himself as he glanced out through the foliage. "They're going bat-shit, aren't they?"
She nodded, and he grinned down at her.
"Ah, but I can see all the little diagnoses running through your head, Harley: displays sadomasochistic tendencies, maybe just a touch psychotic, that's always good to spice up the party."
"Is that the way you would describe yourself?"
He shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Oh no, don't turn this around on me, Doctor, we were talking about you. Does it bother you, I wonder, that no matter how much I disgust you, I still intrigue you? That you just keep coming back for more?"
He was far too perceptive, and Harley didn't think she was very comfortable with how this conversation was going. She seized on the only option she had for derailing that train of thought.
"You think I find you disgusting?" she called up to him, questioningly.
He frowned, his eternal smile somehow emphasizing the movement as he lay his head against one folded arm, but he seemed to concede to her diversion.
"You think I don't hear the whispers? How the nurses, the little bitches, how they titter among themselves, and stare?"
Her neck was beginning to ache from gazing up at him, so she sank slowly to the ground, wincing a little as various other over-worked parts of her body protested. "I understand how hard it must be for you."
"Do you really?" He snorted derisively.
She sighed, looking down briefly. "No, Jack, if you want to mince words, I suppose I don't really understand how you feel, but I empathize with you, nonetheless."
"They told me I haven't a single drop of empathy in me."
She blinked, looking up again, finally settling on leaning her head back against the trunk to save her neck. "Who?"
"Your colleagues. Sanders, he told me I was a hopeless case, do you know that?"
"Not very professional of him."
"Ah, but honest." He pointed. "I appreciate honesty."
"Well, let me be honest with you. Did I find you shocking at first? Yes, and I admit it was hard not to stare. What has happened to you is horrible, but it's not your fault. The scars don't change who you are inside."
"You're lucky, you know, I have a sense of humor today, otherwise the endless psycho-babble would really start to piss me off." The last three words came through gritted teeth, and Harley knotted her shoulders together, finger itching for the safety of the trigger as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She had the distinct urge to squeeze her eyes shut again, but knew how dangerous it would be to take them off of him.
"I'm not trying to make you angry, Jack."
The tension was gone from his body just as quickly as it came.
"Oh, you haven't, my sweet girl, I'm just so anxious these days." He gave an exaggerated, melodramatic sigh and she couldn't help but laugh softly, if a bit shakily, though her mind was still whirling, body trembling at the edge of fight or flight. Dealing with the Captain was like being permanently stuck on a carnival ride with no brakes: she had no idea where exactly they were going most of the time, but they were going, and quickly… it was almost fun when it wasn't mind-numbingly terrifying.
"But in all honesty…The scars? They're just ridges of tissue, nothing more. With time, I find that there are moments when they escape my notice entirely. I don't think about them anymore. Regardless, you have a very handsome face, Captain." There. That was a safe way to say it.
"Handsome underneath?"
"Handsome even with."
"Do you really think so?"
The words were soft and unsure, like a child seeking approval, but she knew without looking his expression would not match. It didn't. He was watching her with narrowed eyes, a little smile curling his lips and bringing the curved edge of his scar higher, and he reminded her of a cat once more, the intent look a panther had just before it pounced.
She sighed again. She was beginning to feel tired already. "Yes, Captain, I do."
He hummed again, a content sound, and nodded his head, blinking his eyes closed slowly as he did so. "Yes, I think you do, indeed. You know, I don't want you to think I'm all talk, Harley. I might be a little rough," he traced the deep furrow in his left cheek with the back of one fingernail as he said it, tilting his head a little into the motion. "around the edges, but I mean what I tell you. And I might… get a little carried away here and there in the heat of the moment, but what are a few bruises between good friends, I always say, and you do seem the type to say as well."
He winked, brushing his fingers over his throat now, gesturing to the bite marks he'd found bruised into her throat beneath the makeup.
"I value our time together. You can't blame a guy for getting lonely in this place. I've been staring at white cement for months, and then they place this delicious little distraction in front of me, and there's more to you than meets the eye," he tapped his finger on his cheek, almost as though to make sure her eyes were still trained on his. "A guy like me can appreciate that."
That sounded uncomfortably close to being a proposition, and she frantically sought a way to avoid even acknowledging it, but he had a terrible habit of interrupting her thought processes.
She let out a strangled scream as he was suddenly beside her, hitting the ground with far less sound than he should have, dropping into a crouch without a single ounce of jar in his landing. His hand found her face before she had an opportunity to stop him, and she gasped, unprepared for the sudden movement, and certainly unprepared for her stomach dropping like a stone, the feeling as though her insides had liquefied as the rough surface of his palm stroked over the delicate skin of her face.
"Captain," she said desperately, voice high-pitched and still breathless: had meant to place some outrage behind that but all that came was a frightened whisper.
"Push me away."
The instruction brought her out of her sudden stupor, and she did, stopping only after she had done so to marvel at the sudden response: she hadn't even thought about obeying him, she had simply done it. Illogical, dangerous, she hadn't even thought of the gun… she could have been dead.
He let the force of her hand push him the rest of the way back, bare feet tucking under his knees, cross-legged, and she had no idea exactly when, where, or why he had left his slippers behind, sometime before his leap into the tree. His voice lowered conspiratorially. "Good. Now, no one will be suspicious. I know we have an audience, Doctor, but I couldn't resist, just a little touch, you understand. Soft as I expected it… I wonder how much of you is just that soft?"
She couldn't stop the rush of blood to her face, and she was furious to find herself stumbling over her words when she tried to speak. "Jack… this is… this is inappropriate."
"Shh," he murmured. "Where is the harm in words, Harley, when no one is there to hear them but me? Are you so selfish you'd deny me even your voice?"
She swallowed, mind working furiously. No, it was positively indecent to be indulging in this sort of conversation with her patient, she was at work, she had to remember that, but… when you thought of it like that… And he was… unnerving the hell out of her, the silkiness in his voice unfamiliar, but very effective, and damn him, he knew it.
Some part of her brain largely devoted to surviving sent off warning signals at the energy coiling in his limbs, but his eyes told the real story, lit up from within and filled with anticipation. His tongue slid again, pulling at his bottom lip and then curling back over it so obscenely slow it made her whole body shudder in a way that had little to do with fear, and nothing to do with cold. He smiled, appraising but encouraging, and tilted his head, letting his gaze slide down her body, and she could almost feel it, as real as the hand against her face had been.
There was no one here to see… no one here to stop this. There were men on the roof watching but they had no idea what was going on, what was passing between them, couldn't see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed almost convulsively, and God, how could he make her feel like this without even touching her? God, what would happen if he did?
He was murmuring once more, even though there was no one around, and she had to lean closer to hear him and he held her in thrall as such unbelievably filthy things fell from his lips, and it was wrong to even listen but she couldn't tune him out, and she could see so vividly as her eyes slid closed, held captive without a single bond. All the things he wanted, all he would do if they were alone and, with a helpless moan and a delicious shudder of humiliation, everything he would do right now with all the world watching.
He laughed, the edge of a growl in the sound, guttural and low when he saw just what was doing the trick, and his words went farther and it was enough to drive her crazy.
"That's it, Harley," he whispered, and the haze shattered within her mind, the weekend's events rushing back to her, what she had done, how far she had already taken it, and what's a bit farther, a low voice whispered, just a little touch. She stared at him, eyes wide, lips slack, but even the smile was gone from his face, and she felt as though she were staring into the eyes of an animal: void of everything but a single, driving determination, and what if, her mind urged, just once?
She pressed a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and trying desperately to clear her thoughts, to gain some sort of control over herself.
"Why do you even try?" He was laughing softly at her, but his eyes were darker than she had ever seen them… and he was always laughing, Harley remembered what he had told her. "Why do you bother to deny it, when I need only look into your eyes to see it… is that what you're trying to hide from me?"
"Please, Captain," she whispered, lifting her hand and pressing it instead to her cheeks, as though she could soothe the patches of high color away.
"Ah… well, maybe I've been just a bit hard on you… I suppose I should give you a bit of time to recover before they begin to wonder why you're breathing quite so hard… Perhaps I make you nervous, Doctor?"
"Damn you," she grated out, and he positively wailed with laughter.
"Oh no, I suppose that might not be the problem this time, but you might not want to tell them, hmm? I'll keep your secret, Harley, and I'll give you one in return. It came in the mail today, but you must come to my room tonight to retrieve it."
Harley blinked, and she was amazed just how quickly the psychiatrist jumped to the forefront of her personality, instantly attentive to his choice of words. "What?"
"Hah! I've got your attention. I thought, since you have far more interest in my past than I do, it would be a most gracious gift. I'll give you something that no one else can." His hands rose, gesturing to himself sparely, only the index raised, the rest lowered harmlessly; but it was a lie, she knew what those hands could do, had been doing all his life, from the very beginning, what it was his job to do.
How could he unhinge her so much? How could she even allow herself to think these things about him?
"You look pained, pumpkin… but don't worry. It only hurts like that the first time." He grinned darkly, and winked. "I should know."