AN: TW: THERE ARE SEX SCENES IN THIS CHAPTER. (NOTHING TOO FREAKY YET)

You know better, babe, you know better, babe

Than to smile at me, smile at me like that

You know better, babe, you know better, babe

Than to hold me just, hold me just like that

I know who I am when I'm alone

I'm something else when I see you

You don't understand, you should never know

How easy you are to need

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me

Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me

Honey, don't feed me, I will come back

It Will Come Back / / Hozier

/ / / /

Over A Year Later

Her bright blonde hair shined like precious metal in the warm sunlight, filling the room, as her hungry azure eyes gazed down at me, hips moving in unison to my own, mouth parted to whisper.

"John…"

A low groan ripped out of my throat, as my hands found her waist, pushing her down onto my cock, and letting out low moans of her name.

"Harley, oh, god!" I worshipped.

She leaned down, her pink lips seeking my own-

BZZT BZZT BZZT

The sound of his alarm clock startled Dr. Crane out of his incredibly pleasant dreams. Immediately disgusted with the after-effects of the wet dream, Crane stood, taking his soiled sheets to be washed, and himself to shower, in his small one-bedroom apartment. He could of course afford a better apartment but found that this one suited his needs entirely, and he did not consider himself materialistic in nature and was saving money for a rainy day.

The shower was refreshing, until under the hot hot water, Crane's thoughts began to wander, back to the young girl whom he had become very close with since that first night in a disgusting gas station. Often they met up before classes, or after. As friends of course. Crane assured himself, though deep down he knew that his affections for the girl had gone beyond even friends when she had been concerned that her athletic scholarship wouldn't be enough to continue covering her schooling, and he dusted off the famously elusive Crane Grant. An honor that hadn't been bestowed on a student since his father had worked at the facility.

Crane had never met a student so bright, so eager, and so talented. Harley had a unique gift of reading people, and situations, that Dr. Crane wasn't sure if she was even aware of. She had absolutely sped her way through her studies, and she would be able to graduate early, leaving for med school soon.

I wonder what other talents she possesses…

Crane shut that thought out entirely. The girl wasn't even 20 years old. He had not been 20 in over a decade.

Besides…. It's not like she would want someone like me, not when she has a fiancé like Mr. Kopski.

A fiancé her parents more than likely approve of, a fiancé who is age appropriate.

Crane's face twisted. But sometimes she still looks at me like-

No. Doesn't matter. You're the adult in this situation. Be appropriate.

The two of them had had a late lunch after class the day before, at a lovely café, where he had nearly wept at the beauty of the young woman, smiling as she chatted about her new favorite book, and sipped on an expensive coffee, and smoked her menthols.

Crane had taken up smoking menthols as well, recently, and as much as he told himself it was because he liked the smell, the truth was it was because it made him feel close to her. His dark thoughts dissipated when she was near, no more violence, just a lovely woman to spend time with.

She thought he was funny. And sweet. And handsome.

He put on his glasses and began drying himself off, stepping out of the bathroom.

His phone was ringing in the next room he noticed, and ignored it while going through his closet, trying to decide on what to wear. She complemented the blue shirt and blazer.

I cannot let a student's opinions decide my clothing! Crane thought, rolling his eyes. He considered his closet again.

Crane grabbed the blue shirt.

The phone began ringing again. Crane turned, confused, walked into his living room, picked up his phone, and saw Gotham Generals' number on the screen.

He froze. Starting at the number, wondering what the hell was going on. The phone rang again.

"Hello?" he said, after flipping the phone open. "Hello? Who is this?"

Soft crying came through on the line. "Professor Crane, please, I need you."

/ / / /

Johnathon was not entirely sure how he had made it to the hospital without crashing, or receiving a ticket, frankly, he wasn't sure how he made it there period, as he couldn't see past the absolute fear behind his eyes.

The all-consuming fear of what had happened to the young woman who he cared for in one way or another.

She hadn't said much on the phone and Crane feared for the worst, tears and rage fighting equally behind his eyes. He found himself wishing he could split whoever had hurt her in half, then into quarters.

Upon making it to her Hospital room he found himself almost scared to look at Harley. The larger-than-life personality, whom he had come to care for, but once he did it was worse than he had thought. It looked like she had shrunk in on herself, blonde hair flared all around, a small frail girl, pale, and with dark circles under her eyes.

Her bright blue eyes met his, and her hand reached for him. Without thinking he had sunk to sit by her bedside, taking her hand and clasping it in both of his, eyes wide with questions he was afraid to ask, or unsure how to ask.

"It had been going on for a while… Guy…" Harley said weakly, before breaking into tears, her hand leaving his to join her other on her face, one on her forehead, the other covering her mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

I'll kill him. Crane thought, no sign of hesitation in a single cell of his body. He didn't know what the oaf had done, but he knew that he had hurt this young woman. He knew that he deserved to die. Because anyone who could look at this angel and do anything but care for her must be a monster undeserving of life.

"But you have to believe me, it was never this bad before," She whispered, staring at the ceiling. "I thought I could take it. Him being angry. I could always take it when my mother was angry, or her boyfriends. But he doesn't just hit me Dr. Crane." she sobbed. "He burns me, he cuts me. This time he cut me real bad. I almost died."

She looked at him, tears freely flowing. "I just wanted him to love me, what's wrong with me?"

Crane reached out, taking both of her hands in his own. "Harleen. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, there's something wrong with that pig of a man. You know that, you are the best student I've ever had, you know what has happened to you could never be your fault."

Her eyes were dead when she looked at him. "I think it is my fault."

"Harleen. Nothing that you could have done would make what he did okay." I'll get her into counselling, maybe an outside opinion will help, I still have friends who practice, despite my destitute way of living.

She smiled, a dark kind of smile. "Do you know why he did it?" she asked, a kind of contained ferality in the words.

"Do you know why he made sure I'll only ever wear one-piece bathing suits, for the rest of my life?" she laughed harshly.

"Whatever he said the reason was, he's wrong. The reason was because he is a damaged, and violent individual who refuses to use civilized methods of controlling his anger."

Harley ignored him altogether. "It was because you and I had lunch together yesterday"

Crane was confused, as to why this would spark such a strong reaction from the man.

"Because he thinks I'm in love with you," she said smirking at him, her eyes dancing with both rage and merriment.

Crane's eyes widened. Guy had considered me enough of a threat to do something so horrible as this?

"I'll give him this, despite being an absolute ogre," she paused, and reached for a pocket that wasn't there, probably reaching for a cigarette, before realizing her hospital gown didn't have pockets, and she couldn't smoke in here, anyway. Defeated she leaned back, looking at the ceiling again.

"At least he's not blind."

/ / / /

Harley lay in that hospital bed stewing. She wanted Guy dead. She didn't want the police to catch him, put him on trial and him face some jury full of people who don't have a big ugly scar from him.

No, she wanted to… boil him alive, piece by piece. Burn his cock off. She wanted to smash his head like a watermelon, with one of those big mallets at fairs.

Crane had come and gone, supportive, and shocked by her near declaration of love. He stayed for a while, trying to support her, and even cancelled his classes for the day to stay, chat, and attempt small talk. Her other friends would show up, which shut him up pretty effectively, but he reached for her hands often when they were alone, seeking comfort as much as he is giving it. Pam of course hates their relationship, despite it being purely platonic. She claims he is taking advantage of her, which Harley doesn't believe.

Her favorite study buddy Bruce had shown up last, after Dr. Crane had left, and just hugged her, and told her everything would be alright.

"After all," he said. "Can't leave me all alone in 'orphan club', can you, Harley?"

Usually, Bruce hated that joke, and said it was in bad taste, despite laughing whenever she told it. But she supposed he was feeling emotional that day. Pam had brought her sketchbook, and pencils, which Harley was appreciative of, as she began sketching that night, all alone. Guy's face took shape first, a grisly visage, bruised and sliced in many directions, along with his chest. His stomach looked to be ripped open, organs pulled out and ripped open, and deep bloody bites covered much of his body.

So much more beautiful like this.

/ / / / /

NICOLAS M. QUINZEL

The stone read, along with two little dates, and a slash in the middle. Nothing else.

No. "Devoted father" because he wasn't one.

No. "Loving husband" because he wasn't one of those either.

Harley missed him regardless. He had been a flake, but that was the nature of a career criminal. A killer, and a vicious one. He would show up once or twice a year, shower everyone with presents, for a week or so, then inevitably the fight would happen. It would get violent, and he would leave after.

Leaving Harley alone with her mother. Her mother who worked the street corner, and kept loud, violent men around all the time. Her mother who slapped her face at 9 years old for asking if daddy was ever coming back.

Her mother who ate a bullet two weeks after her long-estranged husband was put to death, and left her body for Harley to find, just after her 18th birthday.

She had arranged for them both to be buried in Gotham Cemetary. Despite her misgivings about her mother, she was not so cruel as to refuse to reunite the pair in death.

Their love was the kind of love they write love songs and breakup songs about, angry, and passionate, and all together too much for anyone to handle and stay sane in the same lifetime.

"I think I get it now, Dad. I didn't get how anyone could do the things you did, but." Harley choked, nearly sobbing, but stopping herself, even now, refusing to let him see her cry. "I get it now, Daddy. Some people deserve to fucking die."

/ / / / /

"I can't believe they still can't find Guy, I mean, how far is he gonna run from this?" Pam asked her brother, while pacing his room, frustrated to no end that the police couldn't seem to do their job. Her brother however was working on his computer, so she didn't see his fingers twitch when she said that, eyes flickering to the side to her, before quickly putting his eyes back on the computer.

"That's if he's running," he said quietly.

"What do you mean if?" Pam seemed genuinely concerned.

Eddie spun around in his chair, eying the door, before looking at Pam.

Pam went to check that no one was by the door, and then closed and locked it.

"Pam. It's been a month. There's no sign of him. Harley stopped caring if they found him less than a week after she got out of the hospital."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying Harley has a violent streak whether we want to admit it or not."

"You can't really think-"

"I looked in her sketchbook, Pam. It's full of him. Twisted and burned and cut up in ways that I still see when I close my damn eyes."

Pam's eyes widened, before she sputtered out, "Art is a normal coping-"

"Don't feed me that Pam. I know you remember when we were kids. All the neighborhood pets started going missing every time her dad left. What she did do to that girl in middle school who called her a slut- have you seen her recently? She's got anxiety now. Thinks Harley is still coming after her."

Pam stared at him, blinking in shock. "You think Harley Killed Guy?" she realized, eyes wide.

"Either her or Professor Crane."

"Why would Professor-"

"Oh, please, Pamela, don't be naïve. Because he's in love with her. The question remains, how does she feel about him." he said, while spinning around, to continue working on his project.

Pam was shocked again but answered him. "Well, I know she had a crush on him freshman year?"

Ed nodded. "Well, then. Good for them."

Pamela wanted to object but was still grappling with the fact that her brother believes that her best friend since childhood was a murderer. And sadly. She was beginning to believe it as well.

/ / / / /

Several months after the incident, Professor Crane invited Harleen out for lunch. Like he did almost every week. But this week was different. They did go to lunch. Then lunch turned into a stroll around the park. Then dinner. Then dessert. Then coffee in his apartment.

Now, stroking her back, her body pressing down on his, Crane smiled, thinking how it had become breakfast at his apartment.

He hadn't meant it to go this far.

He could see that this was wrong, laying in bed with the woman of his dreams, he didn't much care for morality.

And the sex… the sex was phenomenal. Harley had turned into a wild woman, scratching, and biting, and fighting to get what she needed from him, at first he was shocked, but also thrilled, at the way she clearly openly desired him, and gave the same treatment back to her, which seemed to make her more feral, and insatiable.

He kissed the top of her head, resting on his chest. He knew that as soon as the languid feeling that had spread throughout his body, loosening his muscles, and relaxing his mind, escaped him and fled from the terrible thing he had done, he would be ashamed of himself, feel like a monster for allowing this to happen.

But for now, Dr. Johnathon Crane was simply, sweetly, and lovingly, happy. A natural, soft smile, that had none of his usual mean edge to it, had spread across his face unbidden, and he didn't know the last time he felt so… light.

Suddenly, blue eyes met his, a smile on her face as well, as she pushed her up into his neck, kissing and sucking lightly.

"My dear," Crane pulled back, which caused Harley to immediately stop and look at him, eyes wide, waiting for rebuff. "It isn't that I don't enjoy that, but showing up to the university with marks all over my neck will raise eyebrows."

Harley's face went red, and she seemed hesitant to say what she did next. "It's- uh. Too late for that, I think." Little did he know, his neck, and parts of his chest were covered in marks, of different origins.

Looking at what he could see of his chest, lying down he could see the pattern of bites, scratches, and hickeys. Suddenly he laughed, loudly, wrapping his arms around her and flipping them both, so that he was on top, and smiling down at her, nose to nose.

"What am I gonna do with you?"

"Touch me-" She said, and it was like a prayer. Like she would expire if he didn't, right this moment.

Crane did not have the power to deny her that now, his hands cradling her face as his mouth touched hers, lips parting, tasting, feeling, after a moment, he opened his eyes to see her hungry ones staring back at him, but he had no intention to take this at the pace she would like to set.

If he was damning himself, he wanted the memory of heaven to last him as long as possible.

Tenderly, he began laying soft kisses all along her silky pale throat, slowly, with every bit of love he had in his body. Love.

Love.

I love you, he thought, as his kisses reached her collarbones. Do you know how absolutely I adore you?

His kisses almost reached her stomach, when she grabbed his arm, and he stopped, looking up at her.

"Please… not there. Please don't. Look at it." her scar he thought with pain.

It had been nearly a year now, and the scar was still plainly visible, but the idea that she could believe something as insignificant as a single scar could do anything to mar her perfection, made him wish he could find the bastard, and kill him.

So he moved away from her torso, kissing her thighs, parting her legs to begin caressing her inner thighs.

Harley let out a loud moan reaching for him, impatiently.

Crane slipped out of her grasp and laughed lightly. "Good things come to those who wait." he teased.

His mouth made its way to her again and his lips glanced off her thigh as suddenly she let out a noise adjacent to a growl, and sat up, grabbing a handful of his hair roughly, and kissed him, her tongue tracing his lips while pulling him back up on top of her.

Crane was powerless to resist her, as her legs wrapped around him, and her hand came down between them, stroking his already throbbing and needing cock, causing him to gasp into her mouth, and thrust into her hand, "Harley"

His hushed gasp had an air of pleading that Harley was intoxicated by and had no intention to ignore, guiding his cock into her, letting out a gasp as he slid home.

His own groan echoed hers, and he had to breathe heavily for a moment, so as to not embarrass himself, since she was the first woman he had been intimate with since college.

"God, you're perfect, you're so perfect," she whispered. "How am I here? How is this happening?" she raised her hand to his face, gasping as he moved within her, slowly, too slowly, like he wanted it to last forever.

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing," he said with a smile, leaning down to kiss her, rocking his hips, oh so slowly.

Too slowly, it seems, as the far more athletic of the two of them flipped them over so she would be in control.

Crane wanted to flip them again, but after looking up at her, hair tangled and eyes wild, feeling her hips twist and grind against him while she gasped and moaned his name, "John- John!" he gave in, moving with her letting the sensations take him over, reaching up to cup her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples, possibly too roughly, but she seemed to enjoy it all the more, seeing as she became more frenzied, before reaching her height, and her moan becoming a cry, as every muscle she had tensed, and he threw his head back as he followed her into heaven

/ / / /

AN: PLEASE REVIEW.