There will always be casualties.
The Joker is nearly through rounding up Gotham's villains for his own 'Injustice League', or so Batman thinks; the Joker has his own agenda. He will murder them all before the Caped Crusader can do anything to stop him. And Harley Quinn has had a hand in it, as well. She is guilty.
Nightwing's obsession with her had him following her when she met with the General. Now he's dead because he intervened. The Joker knows nothing of their relationship, or so Harley hopes; but he does know that the Nightwing is becoming a nuisance. He'll have to get rid of him, or in the very least- slow him down.
Harley paused outside the door. No one else was around, and she took that as a bad sign. Her hand trembled as she reached for the handle, so she flexed her fingers.
"I'm back," she called in, as she finally opened the door. The television screens were all the lost connection blue. The high winged chair was bathed in their pale light. She could see a single gloved hand resting on the armrest.
"What happened?" Joker asked slowly, his voice threateningly low.
"Well, I got to the General," Harley said walking carefully toward him. "And he had his fun, but…"
"But what, Harley?" Joker jumped up to his feet and spun toward her. He was washed out in the ghostly lights of the television screens. After a moments hesitation, she held out her scrap of cloth.
"Nightwing showed up." Joker snatched the bit of uniform and glared at the blue and black with a twisted smile forced on his face.
"So wonder boy spoils it again," he spat. "And now every little bat and bird in town will know my plan." His eyes sought Harley's, filled with malice.
"Undoubtedly," she admitted drily. "But weren't they going to find out anyway? Someone was bound to let spill now that the word is getting around."
"That isn't the point!" he screamed, waving the bit of cloth in her face. "He keeps interfering in my plans. Sure I expected the Bat, but the two of them aren't playing together anymore."
"So Nightwing is what you have a problem with?" she asked quietly.
"Yes! This glorified pidgeon is becoming a pest." Joker rubbed his mouth. "He won't die when I want him too," he mumbled. Harley kept her face even. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she smiled.
"But you said it yourself Puddin, he's working independent. How are you going to find him?" The Joker's face turned thoughtful. He turned away and sat back down, steepling his hands in front of his mouth.
"Someone has got to know something right? Who does he care about?" Joker muttered. Harley puckered her lips, glad he wasn't looking at her.
"Batman," she offered quietly.
"Yes, yes," Joker waved her away, not really listening. "But who else?" He narrowed his eyes. "There has got to be someone or something I'm missing." He started mumbling to himself too quiet for her to hear, so Harley backed silently away. Once far enough, she hurried quickly back through the door.
Dick ignored the shooting pain in his side with every movement, biting his lip. His fingers rested relaxedly on the back of his neck as he sat up and then lowered himself again, his ankles bound to the top of the bathroom door frame. He ignored the sweat dripping into his eyes and pulled himself up again, bending at the waist until his head touched his knees.
"Not your best idea to work out with a stab wound," Barbara said. Dick slowly lowered himself, exhaling slowly, and looked at her. She turned her head a bit so she could smile at him upside down. "Though I have missed watching you work." She added, placing the tray of food on his desk beside his open laptop. Dick ignored her, his hair brushing the floor as he pulled himself up, holding his head against his knees for a moment. Barbara crossed her arms, watching him.
"What are you doing here?" Dick asked, the strain clear in his voice as he slowly straightened out again.
"I'm helping Alfred out for a bit, and…" Barbara trailed off, admiring the flexed muscles of his abs and chest as she watched him. She stepped closer and examined the bandaging around his waist. Dick huffed irritably.
"You're in my way," he snapped, and Barbara quickly stepped to the side so he could pull himself up again. His forehead touched his knees and he breathed in slowly, his eyes closed. Spots of blood had soaked through the gauze.
"You shouldn't strain yourself, Dick," She muttered, and couldn't stop her eyes from tracing over his powerful arms as he pressed them to his sides and dropped back down.
"Do you need anything else?" Dick said irritably, glancing at her. Barbara blinked.
"Oh. Right. Officer… oh… Officer what's-his-name is here to see you. Officer Collins." She blushed, stepping away from him. Dick grunted softly as he sat up again, but he didn't respond. "Your partner?" Barbara added helpfully.
"I know who he is," Dick said in annoyance. "I'm waiting for you to disappear. Go get him if he's here, don't leave him waiting."
Barbara hurried from the room without another word. Dick exhaled slowly, lacing his fingers behind his head as he unfolded down, his hair brushing the floor. Will stood in the bedroom doorway. He was wearing a black button up shirt and black slacks and shoes instead of his GCPD uniform.
"I heard nothing around the station about you trying to slice your stomach out," Will said, looking at his bandaging, "so I'm just going to assume that's one heck of a story." Dick frowned irritably and sat up, gripping the door frame and slipping his feet out of the binding. He flipped backward and landed on his feet beside the desk, glancing at his computer. He finally looked up at Will.
"I got stabbed," he said casually, and then walked into the bathroom. A moment later he came out, mopping his face with a towel.
"Does it have anything to do with the Arkham escape?" Will asked with an amused look.
"Yeah," Dick muttered, looking at him quizzically. He pulled a t-shirt on over his head. "The Batmobile lost a wheel and the Joker got away, and all that…"
"Are you going to tell me about it? Or has that been why you've been avoiding me the last few days?"
Dick ran a hand through his hair and dropped his towel on the desk chair. "I wasn't avoiding you. It's complicated, Will. I just didn't want you to get caught up in the middle of it." He sighed.
"Is it more complicated than the funeral I just went to?" Will demanded. "Because I thought Joan would have wanted you there."
Dick stared at him for a moment, and exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes as he nodded, biting his lip. "I couldn't go, Will."
"Why not? Give me a good reason why her best friend on the force couldn't make it." Will crossed his arms, not relenting.
"Because she died in my arms!" Dick snapped angrily.
"She-" Will cut himself off, looking at Dick in surprise. "She what?"
"I don't know what the hell Gordon was thinking, but- She was the new Harley Quinn. I think the Commissioner had her undercover. On the night of the Arkham escape, Joker stabbed her and ran, and I tried to help her. She died in my arms." Dick repeated, looking down. "I couldn't go to that funeral. I couldn't face those people knowing that I'd failed her."
"She was…?" Will ran a hand across his face. "Oh, wow. And you… Dick I'm sorry." He sighed. "I had no idea. Gordon didn't disclose much, just that she died on duty." He shook his head. "That's terrible. And the Joker?... Dang."
"Yeah. He stabbed her, stabbed me, and then rabbited. With the Arkham break… we've been incredibly busy. How were things at the station?" Dick asked, sitting down slowly and wincing. Blood spots had appeared on his shirt from the wound in his side. It was healing as quickly as it could, but his elevated heartbeat had caused it to bleed a bit again.
"Sorry," Will said, shaking his head. "You brushed that off quick. I'm not used to this whole thing. Um, well the Commissioner lifted your suspension. I have a feeling he would have reconsidered had he known about that." Will glanced at the blood.
"Then I guess it's best he doesn't know," Dick replied, a hand on his knee. He looked up at Will. "Not used to what whole thing?"
"The fact that you can go through all of this and still talk to me like everything's fine."
To Will's surprise, Dick smiled a little. "If you'd seen what I've seen in my lifetime, you wouldn't be so upset either. After a while it becomes part of the job. Funerals. I've been to more than I can remember, and been invited to more than I could count." He looked down, lacing his fingers together, his elbows resting on his knees. "It doesn't get any easier to witness it, but it gets easier to accept it. The work has to be done."
"I've been to my share of funerals," Will said, "and so far it hasn't gotten any easier." Will sat on the edge of his bed. "You should at least visit the grave. I know it has to be hard, despite what you say. I mean, she was Harley Quinn while your girlfriend wasn't. You can't tell me that's easy to deal with."
Dick closed his eyes. "Believe it or not, getting wound up in the middle of these things, and adding romantic involvement on top of that, isn't exactly new either. But… you're right. It is different this time."
"And how's that?" Will asked seriously, leaning forward. Dick ran a hand through his hair.
"That's… a lot to explain," he sighed, sitting up and crossing his arms as he looked at Will. "Harley isn't exactly a saint. Neither is Red Hood. But it's hard, being torn in half like that. I can't uphold the Batman family and try to save Harley Quinn at the same time. If I upset the balance in any way, if one needs my help more than the other; I could lose the other." He looked down and chuckled softly. "It was all a lot simpler when I was with Batgirl. But that was a long time ago."
"It was all a lot simpler when I just thought you were doing illegal street fighting," Will told him with a smile. "And I'm glad that now I know, but as far as I can tell, nothing has ever been simple for you."
Dick bit his lip and smiled a little. "It was, once. When it was just the three of us against the world. So much has changed. I'm sorry I dragged you into it, Will."
"Hey, in my opinion, it's better than attending my funeral," Will joked.
"I suppose you've got that right," Dick smiled, burying his concern and worry.
"Well," Will said, hitting the edge of the bed as he stood up. "I should get home and lie to my beautiful wife, because 'I know nothing'." He chuckled before staring Dick down seriously. "You should really go talk to Gordon, but I think you know who you should go see first."
"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right," Dick sighed, standing. They walked out into the hall and were nearly knocked over when Damian sprinted past, his Great Dane on his heels. Dick chuckled a bit, and he walked Will to the doors.
"I'll see you later Grayson," Will said, patting him on the shoulder before heading down the front steps to his squad car. Dick turned around and then set off to the garage, grabbing the keys to Bruce's Lamborghini.
When he arrived at the cemetery, Dick headed straight for the fresh mound of earth in the very back, along the gate that surrounded the entirety of the cemetery. Plenty of empty plots stretched out past it, and Dick parked his car on the path and got out, slipping his sunglasses onto his nose. His boots crunched in the gravel and then stopped before the grave, the scent of fresh cut grass and wet earth filling his nose. A flimsy cross made of flowers marked the head of the grave, with a small flag plunged into the dirt beside it. A single red rose lay over the mound of earth.
"Hey," Dick said quietly, smiling a little. He cleared his throat and sat down beside the flower cross, dropping the paper bag that he'd brought in his lap. "I figured you'd probably be pretty pissed about me missing your funeral and all, so I hoped I could make it up to you. I don't normally do this, but ah-" He pulled out the bottle of beer and planted it in the dirt beside the grave, smiling a little. "It's just… I don't drink. And I feel guilty that…" he trailed off, inhaling slowly. A breeze blew through the tombstones, again carrying the sharp scent of cut grass with it. He could hear the groundskeeper mowing somewhere in the vast cemetery. Dick picked up the beer and opened it, turning the bottle over in his hands.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, glancing at the grave. "This is all my fault, and I'm sorry, Joan. I'm sorry you got caught up in the middle of it." Dick thoughtfully picked up the rose, smelling its sweet scent as it's soft petals brushed his lip. He put it back down, and then poured some of the beer on the grave. "One for you." He smiled a little, and then pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his face in his arms.
"Harley! Welcome back!" Joker called as soon as she stepped into the room. Her stomach sank at his suspicious new enthusiasm.
"Hi Puddin, what did I miss?" She hadn't been gone long, only a few hours. Joker strode over to her and gently grabbed her arm.
"Oh, not much Darling. I've just had some company over." He threw back his head and laughed.
"Hmm," Harley sighed. "And who might that be?" she asked casually, trying to match his enthusiasm, but the dread in her gut wouldn't go away.
"Remember what I said about our little pigeon problem?" he asked, waving his hand and smiling at the memory. "Well I found someone I thought might help, but unfortunately, I struck out." He still giggled to himself.
"You seem quite chipper about this," she commented mildly.
"Oh, we had loads of fun together anyway," he chuckled savagely.
"Really?" Harley breathed.
"Yes, yes of course. Would you like to meet him?" Joker tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her from the room. "I'm sure he'd love to see you." He cackled at his own inside joke. He dragged her along to a door that was padlocked closed. Releasing her, he hummed as he dug around in his jacket pockets for the key. Joker smiled and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he unlocked the door. He flung it open dramatically.
As soon as the light from the hall fell across the man seated in the chair in the dark room, Harley closed her eyes and turned away.
"He's the one man Nightwing saved from the police station," Joker narrated, not looking at her as he examined his handiwork. "Naturally, I thought he might know something." Harley brushed away a tear before he noticed. "He insisted and insisted that he didn't see anything and that he had nothing to say," Joker dragged out each word before giggling wildly to himself; Harley flinched. "Now he won't see or say anything again."
Harley forced herself to look again at the horror, her throat contracting around sobs. The Joker had sewn Will's eyes and mouth closed with black thread. Two more strands of black thread looped through the corners of his mouth to his ears, tugging them up in a demented, jagged smile.
Joker turned to look at her, and she plastered a smile on her face, making a vague note in her throat. Will tilted his head around, listening to the noises. "I felt this was so appropriate for someone so unobservant," Joker taunted, moving to pinch Will's cheeks. Will shook his chair violently, bound in it by ropes. "Don't be like that," Joker pouted, wrapping an arm over Will's shoulders. "We had fun, I admittedly more than you, but I did enjoy listening to you scream... while you could." He smiled proudly at Will, like he was some grotesque quilt.
"What are you going to do with him?" Harley asked casually, stepping into the room and avoiding looking at Will. His head snapped around at her voice, and a vein throbbed in his neck.
"Kill him I suppose," Joker sighed looking at Will's profile sadly. He flicked the seam across Will's right eye.
"No!" Harley cried. Joker glanced at her suspiciously. "Why would you do that?" she asked quietly.
"He serves no purpose. Mere entertainment," Joker snapped. He took out a pistol and waved it by his side. He prodded Will in the leg with it.
"But what kind of message does that send if he's dead?" Harley pressed, she clutched her trembling hands behind her back. "Dead men can't talk or see anyway." Joker paused, rubbing the barrel of the gun along his cheek.
"You have a point," he muttered thoughtfully.
"Shouldn't he been seen somewhere public where he can be heard loud and clear, so to speak?" she pleaded. Joker beamed before bursting into laughter.
"Harley dear, you are absolutely right."
"I have the perfect place in mind, Puddin." Harley swallowed hard as Joker came over to stand in front of her.
"I should never doubt you." He tapped her on the shoulder with the gun before walking past her whistling. "Do enjoy yourself, you two!" he called. As soon as he was far enough away, Harley scrambled over to Will's side.
"Oh my God, I am so sorry," she choked in a whisper as tears streamed down her face. Her hands fluttered by Will's face, but she was too afraid to touch him. The skin around the stitches was puffy and red. She fumbled with the knots in the rope binding him to the chair. "I'm so sorry Will." She wiped the tears away with the back of one of her gloved hands as she finally loosened the knots. She breathed the words close to his ear as she pulled the ropes away, "I'll get you to Dick. I promise."