"Boss?" Johnny's voice was an irritant. J was tired. It was late. Or early, rather. He wanted to sleep.

"Yes?"

"He's ready. I don't see why we didn't use a wooden box tho-"

"Because you lack vision. He's loaded in the SUV? And the boys are ready for when you get back, correct?"

"Yes, Boss."

"And you made the other call?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Great."

Outside under the dark sky of what could only technically be called morning, J tossed his second-in-command the keys, leaning back in the passenger seat, with his feet on the dash. He hadn't changed from the night before and the cold from outside began to eat at him.

"Turn the damn heat on." He complained, and Johnny acquiesced before side-eyeing J, mouth a thin line.

"Where to?"

"Midtown." He chuckled unexpectedly, and Johnny looked confused but hopeful, perhaps thinking, foolishly, that J had changed his mind. Or perhaps grown a conscience.

Instead. Joker lead Johnny to a construction site in midtown. J assured Frost as they parked that he had made a few calls and arranged things perfectly. "We gotta get him inside." J smiled, and Johnny groaned internally at that, relieved he had brought a dolly. After ensuring he had the head at the right end he slid the metal box onto it and began rolling it after J, who walked to a small section of gravel, and larger stones, near the fence. He kicked at the rocks twice, before bending down and lifting a small bag, hidden beneath a layer of rocks.

After making their way into the site, J walked with purpose toward a blocked-off area, moving aside several obstacles to allow Johnny though after him, who moved each exactly where they were sitting before. Eventually, they made it to a sight that made Johnny's stomach turn. Sick bastard. He thought, staring at the large pit of wet concrete.

"I know what you're thinking," J giggled, "There's no way it's deep enough? It's the foundation for an apartment building. It's Seven feet deep. And… one of the boys fell off a scaffolding today. Everyone is off until Monday, to support him in the hospital."

Johnny felt his stomach drop even more. No one will even know anyone was here until…

"Get him in the ground, and let's go. We have places to be." J giggled, laying the key on top of the box, and slapping Johnny on the shoulder, before making his way back out of the site, sitting in the car.

Frost stared at the box with sad eyes, stomach flipping again and again as he considered what he was to do. He cursed. He looked up, breathing hard. Without looking he shoved the box into the hole, trying to ensure at least that Thomas could spend his last hours lying on his back instead of his face. He hoped that the drugs would keep him out until the end. That would be kinder.

In the car, Joker tapped a drumbeat on the dashboard before smiling at Johnny, meanly. "I wondered if you fell in." He chuckled.

"Nope," He tried to keep his voice light, but J could see how the task had eaten at him. He made note to give him the rest of the week off- until Saturday Night anyway, and only after finishing their early morning activities.

They pulled up to the second venue quickly, Frost exiting the car, and entering a small building while J smoked happily in the passenger seat, before returning with a white plastic bag with two dinner boxes, and two drinks in hand, one a coffee, and the other a soda J opened, and began drinking while opening the boxes.

"You got me the one with the spicy salsa, right? I can't stand that mild shit you get." J complained opening his food and digging in, groaning.

Johnny looked over at him, amazed as always that he could eat right now. Looked down at his still-closed box of Huevos Rancheros, and knew if he tried, it would fly back out of him at breakneck speeds.

At times Johnny thought that it was an added perk of the job for J. Seeing him blow chunks, that is. But the man was always fucking eating. Or drinking. Or smoking. J had been a black hole much longer than he had been The Joker. Swallowing everything and anything that got too close. Part of him wondered if that was what drew him to his charming Doctor. One more thing to consume and destroy.

I glared at my TV screen, biting into the doughnut again, as news of the overnight Arkham escape played. Cameras out. Crane again. His escapes were always more low-key than J's, only killing who he needed to, only committing enough destruction to escape. I didn't delude myself into believing it was some moralistic side of Crane that caused this. I attributed it to his intellect, and desire to stay under the radar. J was no dumbass… but the other thing certainly didn't jive with his vibe.

I poured a shot of vodka, tossing it back. I was meant to work today, but with the escape I'm at home, with Ed on my ass, trying to get me to move into his apartment until Crane is captured. Which I wouldn't mind acquiescing except I wouldn't be able to explain where I am going tomorrow night at Seven.

"Ed, this is the entire reason that I bought Princess and Baby, I will be fine."

"I disagree," Bruce spoke from beside me in my living room. Yeah, everyone is on my ass today.

"Bruce, I will kick you out."

"Shutting up." He raised his hands in surrender and smiled lightly at my pointed look.

"Harley, this is serious." Ed's eyes were on me, and I rolled mine, looking at the ceiling. "Harley, for fucks sake!"

"Oh, calm down!" I sighed, shaking my head. "I'll tell you what I told the cops." I looked back, smiling at him. "No."

"Harley-"

"No."

"Fine! Fucking fine, Harley!" He raised his voice only slightly, before sighing and turning- only to freeze, then dash forward for the remote, and raising the volume several times. Looking at the screen I groaned at the Caption promising New Joker footage. Then his words sank in.

"...buried somewhere within the city- well, most of him. He will be alive, and if you find him in time he can even remain that way! So kids. I'd say start counting, but the clock has already started."

What the fuck is he doing. Is this him screwing me? I trembled, watching the screen- eyes shifting to Ed, whose eyes were on me now, having put together a possible reason this may be happening. The shake of my head was nearly imperceptible, as I glanced at Bruce, thankfully still engulfed in J's home-movie. Eddie nodded, turning to the kitchen, and leaving the room as Bruce turned to me, looking slightly disgusted.

"Jesus."

I nodded, forcing my eyes to appear grim, rather than revealing the rage in my gut. Dead man. He's a fucking dead man.

"I-" Bruce looked back at the screen, before shivering in a way that almost looked forced. "I think, I need to get home."

I hid my smirk. Well, maybe J is good for something. If Bruce is any indication he's single-handedly preventing gentrification. "Yes, I entirely understand, Please. Get home safely Bruce." I said in my most earnest tone, hamming it up a bit, but he didn't seem to notice, thankful as he left. Maybe reminding them that the dogs still have teeth isn't such a bad thing.

"What the fuck-" Ed started but I shushed him, walking to the door and opening it, peering down the empty hall before closing and locking the door.

"As much as I hate to say it, I don't think he's gonna screw me," I said, chewing the inside of my lip.

"Oh? And what makes you think that?' His voice was nearly mocking now and I glared up at him.

"Because Ed, there are easier ways than this," I grunted. Plus, why would he invite me over on Saturday if he wanted me to get arrested days before? I decided that reasoning would seem unhinged, and also that I didn't want my quasi-brother to know that I was having playdates with a wanted man who also wore make-up. Probably shouldn't mention that he ate you out either.

Ed glared, eyes angry, "I don't want to get screwed either, Harley."

"Ed. Even if they found out about Guy, they would never know what happened to the body. You already adjusted the inventory at Wayne Enterprises- under someone else's name, Correct?" I verified, and he nodded, "Then you and I are the only ones who know. Besides. Who would believe him?"

"You are so arrogant. Do you really believe that no one can see the stilts that you're on Harley?" His finger was pointing at my chest, accusingly.

I felt my face drop. "What do you mean by that?"

"You heard me. I am sick of pretending to be okay with this."

"With what exactly?" My voice was venomous.

"Come on, Harley. You're fucking drowning! You obviously can't handle Arkham, and I have been trying to let you figure-" He didn't finish the statement, too busy picking himself off the floor. He looked up at me with wild eyes, as my still trembling fist, now with bloody knuckles came out to grip his shirt front. "Are you crazy?"

"Don't you dare tell me what I can't do." My voice was low but trembled full of rage, full of hurt pride, and fury. "Don't you dare, Ed. Don't fucking patronize me."

"Okay." His eyes were wide, nowhere near enough fear in them to soothe my wounded pride in this moment, but enough to stop me from hurting him again. I felt my eyes fill with tears, and I looked away- cursing. "Hey, Harley. I-" He blinked, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. That was terrible. I'm just. I'm scared." He looked ashamed, and I smiled, releasing his shirt and leaning back.

"Eh, I won't hold a grudge, if you won't get mad about the bruise on your jaw." I blinked hard, working to put on a less angry face. Finally, I settled on a small smile.

"I guess I should just be thankful you don't go for the nose." He chuckled.

"Only because I like you," I winked and stood, "Let me get you some ice."

He groaned, standing, and following me to the freezer. "You're worse than mom ever was, you know that? It's a sore jaw, I'll survive."

"If you ice it the bruising won't be as bad, though." I pushed the frozen peas against his jaw, and he brought his hand up to support it.

He rolled his eyes, sitting at my table. "I am sorry. Really. I trust you. And… It's not like I didn't suspect something about Guy… It's just. Different to suspect than it is to… know and be implicated ten years after the fact."

I snorted, "It hasn't been great for me either. I had half convinced myself the entire thing was a sick revenge fantasy I had or something until I saw…" His bones. What I didn't tell him, is that I was happy it wasn't a fantasy.

"Why do you think he's doing it?" He asked, and I considered for a long time before I spoke.

"I'm not sure."

The manhunt was on, immediately, once the video was shown. Police, Swat, and Him. He hadn't been back long, but he was back with a fury.

This crime… felt different. Something about it tickled his brain. Burying someone alive… it was evil, Certainly. But considerably less up-front physical violence. The most horrifying aspect was purely psychological. It felt almost like something Scarecrow would do, though he wouldn't have been interested in a spectacle… but then there was that 'most of him' line. Which implies something will be removed. Joker hadn't been particularly interested in the work it would take to amputate a limb or extremity. He had mostly gone for slashing, slicing, and scarring. It wouldn't be too strange for him to develop a new interest, but… with the burial, he wasn't convinced. Something about the way he spoke about inspiration as well….

There wasn't time to think about that now, The Police had been searching the Gotham Woods, but it felt too. Easy. Bruce didn't believe it. He had moved quickly to the Narrows, knowing Joker would prefer to stay on his home turf. He had an advantage here, and one that the Bat was growing tired of, his work in the narrows was still surface-level, his obsession with the mob dragging him away from the smaller gangs that ran things here- this disorganization made it easy for someone like Joker to slip through, using the same footholds. His eyes remained on the screen, searching CCTV cameras for any indication of where he may have gone.

Finally, after what felt like years of looking, he saw something. The scarred man, in civilian clothing, speaking to a man wearing an orange vest. Their conversation was short, and the second man was clearly afraid, but nodded, acquiescing without second thought. Got you.

His eyes flicked to the clock, mouth thinning as he realized that Thomas had around two hours of oxygen left. His search extended, as he looked into what project the man was assigned to.

Finally, his eyes narrowed. Got you. He sent the message to Gordon immediately, telling him to check the area for disturbed dirt.

He leaned back, looking at the photo of the man again and remembering his cruelty and his proclivity for 'jokes'.

He texted Gordon again. This time to check if there had been any concrete poured the night before.

Thomas didn't open his eyes, horrified of what he would find. Still in that box, where he had awoken screaming, and begging it to end, before his mind couldn't take the fear- or perhaps the oxygen deprivation, and he fell back into a blissful unconsciousness. He dreamed of Amy, swimming in cool blue water. She splashed at him, asking him to join her, but he was content to watch her, her blue bikini making her perfect tan skin glow.

He wasn't ready to reenter the world of horror he had found himself trapped in, of no fault his own. He sniffed, remembering Johnnys' words, and forcing his eyes open- only to shut them, arms coming up to cover them. It was incredibly bright.

Bright? His eyes swung open again, this time uncaring of the burning, his tears falling from the strain as well as utter relief as he looked around the actually rather dim hospital room. He sobbed, happy to be alive, before his hands trailed down to his lap. He took a deep breath before sliding the blanket off of him, to reveal the twin stumps, that stopped at his knees.

His tears began again, and he called for a nurse, unable to handle being alone with this information. The nurses came quickly, assuring him that his Girlfriend had been here, but needed to go check on his mother. He was able to call her, hear her voice, and hear her tears, and her promises to be there soon.

And he did, she came to see him early the next morning, eyes wide, as she gripped his hand, eyes full of tears, but smiling and kissing him with tear-soaked lips that he never thought he would see again.

It was only hours later the officers entered the room. Thomas recognized Jim Gordon, of course. He watched the news, after all. He had been kind, but tired, asking if he would be willing to talk to the police. Thomas agreed though he was unable to make it through parts of the story. Gordon had seemed interested in the Blonde man, Johnny. Noting that and asking if Thomas would recognize him. Thomas considered, but he had been nearly delirious with fear… He wasn't sure. He described him to the best of his ability, but he wasn't sure he would be much use beyond that. The man looked as though he was born to blend into a crowd. His only defining feature was his blonde ponytail- the rest of him being supremely average for a man in his late twenties. Gordon had been thrilled with the information, thanking Thomas again and again. The officers had turned to leave the room when he remembered something else.

"Wait!" He cried, and the officers turned, "I- I don't know-" Thomas stopped, unsure.

"Any information you have is going to help us, Mr. Vienna," The Comissioner said eagerly, stepping closer.

Thomas nodded but looked unsure still. "I- I don't know what he meant by it." He shook his head, trembling. "He said something about… a woman."

"A woman?" Gordon seemed confused, "What about her?"

Thomas had avoided the most graphic details so far, but it was unavoidable now. "He… he said… that 'she'" he used air quotes, looking away, "He seemed disappointed… he said that she had gone up to the hip…" He sniffed, trying to hold back sobs.

Gordon's eyes narrowed. Joker? A copycat? That doesn't add up. Besides, Gordon was fairly sure he would have heard of a case like this.

Unless. His lips narrowed, and he lifted his second phone, tapping out a message. Unless he knows something we don't.

Authors Note: Hello everyone! How is everyone doing? Reviews are so deeply appreciated, and so are just general comments. I have had so much fun with this story so far and I really hope other people here are too! Also, if you would like a play-by-play of what happened to Thomas, which is also Posted on my profile, I would love to see it get some love, I haven't written gore in years and I always had a passion for it when I was younger. (I posted it separately so if you're less interested in the gore aspects and more interested in the pairing or the more psychological horror aspects I use in Sour Candies. I don't want to scare anyone off haha, but I still want to offer the body-horror fans like me what we love.)