AN; Reviews are not only welcomed but encouraged, and desired, Enjoy and thank you!
When I was a child, I heard voices
Some would sing and some would scream
You soon find you have few choices
I learned the voices died with me
Arsonists Lullabye / / Hozier
/ / / /
Joan had a tremble in her walk, I noticed, walking behind her, after my session with Mr. Lynns, I caught up to her quickly, and gave her a concerned look.
Her brown eyes were a little too wide, and her mouth was a little too tense, but other than that, her face held no sign that the encounter had gone badly.
"What happened?" I asked with no small amount of hesitation.
Her eyes hardened. "Joan. I'm not asking out of professional curiosity, I want to know if you're okay." They softened and darted to the ground, as we came to a stop outside her office.
"He was silent for the first half of the session, refusing to speak, only nodding or shaking his head. When I asked his name he rolled his eyes." She scoffed. "After that, he started... laughing," she shuddered. "He said 'I like you Doc, so I'm gonna give you a warning. Send someone else next time.' And then he stopped laughing... and just. Stared at me." Her voice trembled. "He looked at me like he was figuring out how he would kill me..."
"Jesus Christ..." I murmured. "Are you gonna be okay, Joan?"
"Yes." Her voice was suddenly much more firm. "I am going home for the day, but before I do I will be telling Dr. Arkham that someone else will need to take over his psychiatric evaluation.
I nodded, that is probably for the best. "Hey, listen, I was going to get lunch anyway, why don't I take you out, huh? My treat? We can go to that diner you love!"
Joan smiled, her eyes crinkling at the expression. "I haven't been to Terrys Place since I started at Arkham, that would be wonderful,"
"Fantastic, I'll meet you there, alright?"
"Sounds good, Harley," Joan smiled, "Thank you."
/ / / /
"Harley! Joan!" The man behind the counter at the earth old diner grinned as we entered. "I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays." Sam'a southern accent was thicker than I remembered, but just as charming.
"Hey, Sam, we just want two of our usual" I started, but before I could give my drink order Joan interrupted, "Not me! I'll just have a burger and fries."
"Oh, come on, Joan, you gotta get the platter," I grinned.
She paused for a moment before relenting.
The Platter is giant. A double cheeseburger, with everything, two loaded cheesy chilli dogs, extra chilli. A full serving each of loaded French fries, onion rings and your choice of a plate of cheesy tater tots, or jalapeño poppers.
Within a few minutes, we were digging into the mountain of food excitedly.
"God, Harley," Joan nearly moaned around a mouth full of tots. "I needed this."
I smiled. "No one eats enough at Arkham, and I know you, Joan, there's no way you were able to eat breakfast this morning."
Joan swallowed and laughed. "I'm still never gonna be able to finish everything."
I shrugged, "I don't know about you, but I'm not above eating leftovers." That's almost all I eat these days.
"Fair enough, but jeez this is a lot, how did we ever finish this? This burger is the size of my head!"
"Probably something to do with hormones" I nodded sagely. Admittedly I would have no trouble finishing the entire thing and was forcing myself to slow down, to match her pace. That's what you get for skipping breakfast. I thought to myself. And not eating before or after lunch with Red.
I picked up a Jalapeño popper, "So, what else is new with you? Are you still seeing that guy... oh, what was his name?" I snapped my fingers.
"Steve?" Joan smirked. "Nah, he was great for a while, but then started asking me when I was gonna be ready to 'settle down', which was his code for giving up my career to scrub his feet like a sweet housewife should."
I snorted with no small amount of derision, "Wow, what an excellent deal for you, whyever wouldn't you take it?"
She rolled her eyes. "I know, I must be crazy." She giggled.
I missed hanging out with Joan, I forget how much I like her. She's snappy and funny. Career-oriented, and quick on her feet. College was great with her, study halls, sleepovers before big tests with the Fearsome-
I stopped eating, appetite was suddenly gone. It always was when I remember my favorite, no matter how ill-fated, Professor. Professor Crane. Of course, this was before he had quit teaching to practice and live up to the nickname students gave him.
That isn't all he was... Something venomous whispered. Yes. It is. I sneered back. It has to be.
No one could know then, and they *certainly* can't know now.
I looked up to see Joan pondering me. "You were thinking of him, weren't you?" She. Reached out to touch my hand. I froze for a moment while I took in her words.
"I'm still so sorry about that. If I had seen, if I had known- it's just that Guy always seemed so normal."
I unfroze, and flipped my hand over, grabbing her hand, in friendship. "Joan," I smiled. "I could never blame you for Guy. Though, if that's your offer to chip in on scar treatment, I won't say no!" I joked.
She laughed. "Harley!" She swatted my hand. "You're an ass."
"Don't you know it," I grinned, reaching for my cheeseburger.
The pain in my chest had not lessened, nor had my appetite come back, but this was the price of keeping dangerous secrets. Grin and bear it. The old saying takes on a new meaning for me, I think.
/ / / / / / / /
The decrepit building practically swayed in the wind, as I made my way upstairs to my apartment, cursing the landlord under my breath the entire way. Goddamned elevator hardly ever works.
I began my nightly routine, of cigarettes and gin, one after another, until it didn't hurt nearly as bad to touch those memories.
The ones I know I should forget. But doesn't it feel so nice to be special? That traitorous little voice grumbled.
I am special enough. Having the Crane Grant attached to my name nearly ruined my life already, I certainly don't need anything else screwing up my career.
But, god, the way he looked at me. The way he touched me. Like I was the only woman to have ever existed. Like I was some higher being, laying in his bed. I love the way his lips wrapped around my name, like a kiss. He never minded my scar... I thought, absentmindedly tracing the line, remembering the night his tongue traced the scar... before he dipped lower, his eyes still glued to mine. "Harley..." he whispered reverently with heavy lids.
I slammed the glass down, pouring it full again. I am nowhere near drunk enough for this...
