AN: THERE IS NO REAL PREGNANCY IN THIS STORY

You would never call me baby

If you knew me truly

Oh, but I waited so long for your love

I am scared, baby, that I can't keep it up for long

Hood / Perfume Genius

Her breathing was deep and even, a slow tide that pulled the tension from Jack's shoulders and left his lids at half mast as he watched Harley sleep. Pamela slept on the chair across the room, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle and breathing peacefully. Harley, on the other hand, was nestled on the couch behind Jack, snuggled into a comforter, with her newly platinum hair making her look angelic in the soft light of her apartment.

She looked so soft in sleep, a picture of the girl he knew from his youth at Southside High, a pathetic name for the sardine can that he, along with several other hundred middle-class and poor Gothamite youth, were sealed into to become productive members of society.

She had kept that long dark braid straight down her back until junior year. That was the year she came in with that meticulously styled dirty blonde hair and a brand-new wardrobe that drove everyone wild. But Jack had a crush on her the moment he had seen her- A freshman at fourteen years old and, wearing a green sundress and starting an impromptu wrestling match with Waylon Jones during gym.

Though that isn't exactly true- the crush came when she won- climbing the larger, laughing student like a tree from behind as he reached for her- and when she covered his eyes, he forfeited the challenge so as not to hurt himself running into walls.

Harley had been a firecracker. He remembered her freshman year, always running with her friends from the Narrows. Jack had always been nervous then; some of those guys were huge, and Jack didn't hit his final growth spurt until he was nearly twenty, so he never pursued her. But he saw her. Her stubbornness. Her sense of humor. Hell, he even liked her temper!

But back then, Harley had always been nestled into the elbow of a man at least a decade older than her- something Jack felt wasn't his business now, but at the time, found himself intensely envious of the men she chased. Powerful, well-known men in the narrows who could make things happen with a phone call.

Jack wanted that power. The power of influence. The power of notoriety. He couldn't deny that, at least in part, that affected the decisions leading to his current profession.

His hand lifted, sweeping the hair out of her eyes with a soft smile, wondering at what she was dreaming. She was always so fascinating. Like there was just more there- more behind her eyes, in the way she moves- as though she knows something everyone else doesn't. A confidence beyond confidence. Jack smiled at her, kissing her sleeping lips, causing her to shift, her lips falling open only slightly, soft breath whistling through them. Jack smiled, standing and scribbling a note on the notepad she kept on her coffee table before making his way towards the front door.

A thought occurred to him- and he reconsidered. He turned back to the kitchen instead with an excited smile.

I was entirely sure I was dreaming. For one, I was in Bali. And that just doesn't add up when you calculate my (pre or post tax) income. But I wouldn't complain so long as I continued to relax in this hot sun. It certainly wasn't my first choice for a getaway, but I couldn't deny the appeal as the warm wind carried floral and green scents back to me. Slowly, I opened my eyes, intending to enjoy more of the sunny tropics of Bali, only to find the dreamlike setting suddenly transformed into a nightmare. Looking down at my torso, I couldn't bear to lift a hand to ensure my eyes weren't deceiving me, but then. I knew they weren't anyway. The word impossible wanted desperately to escape my suddenly bone-dry throat, but I found myself unable to say anything at all, consumed by the horror of the scene.

I was staring at the fleshy protrusion on my abdomen, feeling entirely too much like I had entered that scene from The Thing.

I wasn't even spared the knowledge that this could be someone else's body- somehow, I was looking down at it from a point-of-view shot. No. In a small black bikini, my scar raced along the top of the grotesque bulge, cementing that this was happening. I stared at the body- feeling entirely violated and disgusted by the abscessed distension, as I watched two pale, masculine hands wrap around the malignant mass, holding it tenderly.

I glanced up, searching out the source of those hands and the horrors they had brought upon my poor waistline.

Only to meet the warm green eyes of Jack Ryder, smiling like the goddamn happiest man on the planet.

I woke up screaming.

The porcelain of my bathtub cooled my cheek as I leaned haphazardly against it.

"Yes, I will keep an eye on the situation, Sylvia, and thank you for being so understanding; I need to go see about Harley, but thank you again. Yes. Goodbye." Pam finished, ending the call and leaning in the doorframe of my bathroom. "Well, everyone at Arkham is concerned, but you're in the clear- with everything going on, and you still agree to take Joker, I think Arkham would give you a month's vacation if you ask."

"I'm happy just to lay here."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Bad dream, no big deal."

"You've been throwing up bile since you woke up."

"Real bad dream."

"Okay, fine, don't talk to me, but are you gonna lay there all day, or can we go out on your impromptu day off?"

"When the earth stops spinning, I will shower. I need a costume for Halloween anyway, so you have to go."

"Sounds good; I need something too. The Iceberg was on another level last year; I can't just wear a green dress and a flower crown to be a fairy again."

I laughed from the floor, "Ha, I will step up nothing; the masses should be happy to see my sexy ass at all."

Pam snorted, making her way back down the hall, "I'm making breakfast; I'll save you some for when you're done being overdramatic."

Within only a few minutes, I hear soft pattering steps back to the bathroom.

"'Harl, so sorry for leaving before you're awake- I don't mean to keep doing this; I swear it's just a work thing; I hope breakfast makes up for it.- Jack' Harleen Frances Quinzel, did you have sex with this man?" Pam asked with no small amount of indignation.

I turned slowly to peek at her over my shoulder with guilty eyes.

Her jaw dropped suddenly, and she shook her head slowly. "And when exactly were you gonna tell me?" her hand landed on her hip, and it jutted out suddenly. As I looked up at her, I realized she was a spitting image of her mother- though thinner and prettier, with her and Ed's father's red hair.

"In my defense- I hadn't had time, really; I've been busy."

"You're always busy," she grouched, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pre-roll. "By the way, Jack made us overnight oats, smoothies, and cut-up fruit. So long story short, from now on, I am only fucking morning people."

I cackled suddenly before stopping and spitting another mouthful of bile into the toilet. "God- you take him then." I groaned, leaning back.

"Uh-oh. Okay, no, you gotta tell me, what's going on now?"

I groaned but nodded. "It was just a pregnancy dream. It set off a hangover- I didn't eat much yesterday"

"You haven't had one of those dreams since college?"

"Yeah, and I haven't been seeing a guy since college," I retorted, rolling my neck. "I think it's like a save point in my trauma timeline or something. 'Don't forget- you could also go through a full-on body horror extravaganza full of blood and guts and pain and have a slimy little creep climb out of you and cling to you at the end.'" I shuddered. "Better women than me, I'll tell you that. If I were born before Birth Control pills, I probably would have joined a convent, which would have sucked because I don't believe in god.

Pam laughed and shook her head, "Jesus, Harl, I thought you liked kids?"

"Pam, I do like kids- it's just-" I shivered. "Pregnancy. I'm not a mother. I can be, like, the coolest aunt in the world- but not a mom. I don't think that's in my DNA. There's a reason I use ParaGard- at least until I can get a doctor to agree to sterilize me."

Pam shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "I don't see how you handle all those hormones. I just use condoms or make him pull out. I don't need all that stuff messing with my weight and mood."

I snorted from the tub. "There are no hormones in my IUD, and I can't believe you, of all people, are asking me to trust a man to do anything- especially pull out."

"If he doesn't, he's a shitbag," Pam said flatly.

"Well, yeah. But again. Why trust a man with anything?" I turned my head back to the tub, "Besides, I hate condoms. I'd rather just not worry about it."

Pam nodded with narrow eyes in an understanding way as she let out a cloud of smoke. "That makes sense." She shrugged, placing the pre-roll between her lips again, taking a larger hit, before opening her mouth to speak as she exhaled, the smoke curling out in that slow way all the boys in college were sure was practiced in its sensuality- that she just had to be doing it on purpose. "Eh, who am I to yuck your yum, anyway?"

I smiled into the tub.

"So pull yourself up off the floor, and let's go shopping. I'm putting out your breakfast- and no, you can't just have a cigarette for breakfast." She said as I opened my mouth, "You're dropping weight, Harl. It's scary."

I shrugged. She was right, but it didn't matter. I had no appetite when I was stressed. Red made her way back to the kitchen, and I stood shakily, wiping my mouth with a bit of toilet paper before flushing and turning to the sink. The blonde staring back at me had dark circles that made her bright blue eyes appear unnaturally bright in the bathroom. She had platinum blonde hair and a sour set to her mouth.

Looking at her, I laughed quietly at her put-out expression. "You and me both," I whisper.

I would choke what I could down of breakfast to make Red feel better and hope I can make it to a public restroom before the food makes its unwelcome reappearance.

THERE IS NO PREGNANCY IN THIS STORY

The pregnancy dream is a metaphor.

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