AUTHORS NOTE READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING: This is a General Trigger Warning for this Chapter forward for Fucked Shit. There may not be fucked shit in every chapter but there will be chapters with Fucked Shit. This chapter? Has Fucked shit. It's a light dosage, but it is fucked shit.
There's a light at each end of this tunnel" you shout
"'Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again"
If you only try turning around
Breathe / Anna Nalick
I stared at the phone on my table, and as I had for the last two hours since I woke up, willed myself to pick it up, to make the call I knew I should. To call Joan, or Dr. Arkham, and to explain that my patient had a dangerous interest in me, and I needed to be… put off his case and placed into… protective custody.
Tears welled in my eyes, not in pain, or sadness, but with rage, and an injured pride. I hated this. I hated that my job description and the law both insisted that I was unable to continue. I reached for my phone, only stopping when I saw the tremble in my fingers, cursing and standing. I made my way to my freezer, pulling out the handle of vodka, and filling my mug halfway, before slinging the fridge open to add half a can of soda.
Slugging half of the liquid down my throat with a grimace, I turned back to the phone, reaching for it again. All for fucking nothing. I didn't realize the sob had ripped out of my throat until at least a dozen more had followed- and I slung the mug against the wall with a cry.
This isn't fair. This isn't fair. This isn't fuckin' fair. I did everything right, I played the part fuckin' perfectly, I smiled, and waved, and fuckin' laughed at Jack Ryder's goddamn jokes and I was still losing everything.
How is this my fault? Why is my career going to be affected? This is unjust. I had done nothing wrong. I took a deep breath, steadying. No one needs to know. I bit my lip, nodding, no one needed to know. Who would believe him if he told anyone? I nodded to myself, turning, and grabbing another mug. No one needs to know. Everything is going to be okay. I can fix this.
My fingertips came up, brushing my lips, before I forced my arms back down, and bit down on the bottom lip, hard. It should have been easy to dismiss the attraction I had felt for the man. I was high and clearly not in my right mind, but then… I had been nearly sober on the dance floor, and still, the way he had gripped my hips and pulled me back against him had been addictive and dangerous. I told myself it was the drugs but I wasn't convinced.
But it wasn't his hands that tormented me in my sleep, waking up with the taste of him still on my tongue. It was becoming unrealistic, and frankly pathetic to deny that I was attracted to him. The trick now was to prevent that attraction from affecting our work together. Chemical attraction is nothing I can control anyway. Of course, I've had difficulty admitting to that, I reasoned with myself. He's a psychotic killer clown! I am not unusual or wrong for having a chemical reaction, but it's human nature to be upset.
My hands went to my hips, rubbing where his thumbs had left bruises from how hard he grabbed me. Why is it that only the psychos know how to touch me? I groaned at the unwanted thought.
Suddenly I heard a knock at my door, and I panicked- eyes flashing to the broken mug, before turning, and heading to the door. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck.
Opening the door, I was unsurprised by Jack Ryder, standing in the hall with a worried, and contrite look on his face.
"Hello, I realized I should have called halfway here, but I woke up and needed to apologize."
"Apologize?" Something I wasn't expecting. "For what?"
"For letting the booze get to my head and turn me into some kind of macho asshole, who thinks he gets to decide who you dance with." He said, shame-faced. "I am so sorry. Genuinely, I wish I had a better excuse than 'I like you' and 'I was so drunk'. Both of which I know are terrible." He ran a hand over his eyes, and I laughed, shaking my head.
"You were already forgiven, but since you're here, why don't I let you have the pleasure of taking me out to lunch?" Jack sounds like the perfect distraction.
He peeked at me between his fingers, smiling, before dropping his hand and laughing. "Where did you have in mind?"
"I'll leave that to you," I smiled, grabbing my purse from the hook before closing the door behind me, intent on leaving the tension of the morning behind.
No more mistakes.
The Gotham Woods were J's least favorite place. He had never been an outdoorsman, to begin with, and the chill in the air did nothing to change his opinion. Nor did the stink of animal shit. He lit a cigarette, and let it hang from his lip as he stepped out of the black car he had been driving through the city, plates listed under a new alias. Looking up, he took in the tiny hunting cabin Frostie had sent him to. It was clearly old, possibly even abandoned, but he could see lights inside.
Stepping into the Cabin, Frost was sharing a beer with an older man, maybe forty, forty-five? The man had dark hair, mottled with grey, and a slim figure. J wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but he didn't allow his surprise to show, only turning to Frost with a nod.
His eyes narrowed at his right hand man in irritation, before seeing the man's tired smile and remembering to give him a little slack, considering he was able to put this together in less than twelve hours.
"Hey, J." He clapped the man on the shoulder. "I'd like to introduce you to Bernie Bash."
J looked at him, blankly, before his eyebrows raised slightly as if to say, 'Is that meant to mean something to me?' J began to wonder if he drove four and a half hours out of town for no fucking reason.
"Bernie used to date your Doc from the looney bin." Frost continued, and J's eyebrows raised in confusion, turning to the man.
"Well, she wasn't Dr. Quinzel back then. She just went by Harley." The man said with a shrug, clearly now nervous to be in the same room as a known terrorist, though he didn't seem to notice the twitch in the clown's eye when he spoke.
"Aren't you a little… uh- old for her?" He asked, a barely perceptible curl to his lip.
The man shrugged, unsure how to answer that, but nervous at the way this meeting was going.
"O-kay…" J looked back to Frost, beginning to get frustrated.
"Tell him what you told me, Bernie," Frost said, before finishing his beer in one swig, and standing, patting J on the back. "Be right back, Boss." And then he was gone through the back of the Cabin, and J heard a door open and close before he looked back at the paste-y man, gesturing impatiently for him to speak.
"So… Harley and I didn't go out long, Just a few months… I think it was her Junior year of high school,"
"You dirty dog," The clown laughed, slapping him on the back, though his shoulders tightened imperceptibly, at the statement.
The man relaxed slightly, not seeing the same tension, continuing, "What I didn't realize back then, is that she was only interested because I had a car," He shrugged, and J winced and nodded in sympathy as if to say, 'Isn't that always the way?'
"She didn't speak to me for two years after she graduated. Then one day, she offered me five thousand dollars to use my cabin for a weekend." J leaned forward, intrigued. "Her only other request was that I stay away from the cabin while she was here." Bernie looked up at Joker, eyes wide before looking back down.
"I thought…" He looked back up at J, shame-faced. "I thought she was bringing someone… or… having a party. I just." He shook his head, "I don't know, something about her… it climbs up into your head, and won't get out. Makes you do things you probably shouldn't."
Joker nodded, sympathetically again, "Believe me, I know." he winked. "So, you came out here to… spy on her?" he questioned, waving his hand for the man to continue, and he did, slowly.
"Yeah," he started, face going red, then took a breath. "I didn't… see anything… really… I mean, nothing that means anything, I didn't know anything-"
"What did you see?' J interrupted, gleeful, nearly trembling.
"She was… burying… something." The man finally got out, looking away, and J giggled again, brimming with excitement.
"Where?" he finally got out between giggles, "Where? We need to start digging!"
"Not necessary," Frost said dragging in a rolling table, with a large box on it. Covered in dirt. J stood, going to the table, laughing out loud, and feeling like a kid on Christmas. The box was wooden, clearly handmade, and was about 4 feet long. "Took care of it before I called," Bernie looked Sick.
"Should I-"
"Stay." Joker's tone was acidic, and it burned through any calm Bernie had managed to scrape together.
Frost opened the box without a word. J fell into peals of laughter immediately and Bernie looked sick.
"Jesus Christ!" He gasped, turning away from the dry remains within the box. "Where are his legs?" Bernie attempted to breathe- trying to force himself not to vomit, though his mouth continued to fill with saliva, and his stomach was doing cartwheels.
"I guess he didn't fit?" J giggled, "Maybe if we brought out some dogs we could find the rest?" he looked to Johnny, eyebrows raised hopefully, and looked disappointed when Frost shook his head.
"There's a pig farm on the way back into Gotham. If I had to bet, she knew that. Dropped the legs off there." J nodded, still disappointed, but knowing Frost was right.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Bernie asked, ashen, and trembling, "Why would she get rid of the legs that way but not the rest?"
J looked back at Bernie and giggled, but Frost seemed to take pity on him, and shook his head, "You're not seeing the full picture."
Bernie looked between him and the skeletal remains, holding only a small resemblance to a human. "What do you mean?
Frost lifted the lid, to show Bernie more closely. There were deep scratches in the wood, dyed black from long dead blood, and with pieces of fingernail still lodged within. "She buried him alive. She needed the weekend to prep him. Including amputating his legs."
Bernie felt sick, remembering the night he had driven down, fully expecting to see her sleeping with another man in his fucking cabin- but instead… saw her digging… Bernie tried to imagine the last hours of the man, trapped and hopeless, mutilated and left for dead. He trembled.
I could have done … I just left… Bernie felt sick.
Joker leaned in, looking at the corpse with a conspiratorial smile. "What did you do?" he giggled. "Why did she work so hard on you?"
"So," Joker asked, turning to smile in a friendly way at Bernie. "What do we owe him, Frostie?"
Frost shrugged, shaking his head.
"Nothing? Oh, come on Mr. Bash, you've helped so much!" J cried, standing, walking quickly to the man, and wrapping an arm around him in a show of camaraderie, "Though, I just gotta ask, you've had this little secret under your hat for almost a full decade… Why spill the beans now? Did Dashing Doctor Quinzel- eh- piss you off?"
Bernie looked up at the taller man, with fear in his eyes. "W-well, Johnny said you were looking for information on Dr. Quinzel…"
Joker nodded, understandingly. "Hey, I get it, so this is a matter of mitigating risk, right? Better to piss off the uh- Harmless Doctor instead of the Domestic Terrorist, huh?" Bernie nodded, eyes wide, and Joker tilted his head back and forth, considering, before leading Bernie back to the makeshift coffin. "Bernie, I hate to tell you this, but I think maybe you fucked up."
Bernie's eyes wouldn't move from the horrific corpse in front of him, no matter how much he wished they would. "Oh god." he gasped, "She's gonna kill me."
Joker laughed quickly, slapping his back, and shaking his head. "Oh, Bernie, Bernie, Bernie, Bernie. We won't let her -uh get you."
"You won't?"
Joker shook his head, leading him back to his seat. "Of course not. Bernie! You've helped me so much!" he patted him on the back, before turning back to Johnny, with a too-friendly smile. "Right, Johnny?" He laughed. "I mean, we didn't even have to pay you, for you to roll over and squeak at us like the little rat you are." His tone only broke from friendly for a fraction of a second, but Frost took the hint, and lifted his gun, squeezing the trigger. Bernie didn't have time to be afraid before bits of his brain matter decorated the wall behind him.
J sucked his teeth, releasing with a thunk before turning to Johnny, with a disappointed frown. "Goddamn it, Frost. Ruin all my fun." First Ryder now this prick, am I gonna get to cut anybody today?
"Sorry, Boss." He shrugged, but he wasn't really, knowing that if he hadn't shot the man he would have been trapped in this shitty unheated cabin until J was finished playing with his food.
J turned back, pushing Bernie out of the chair, and onto the floor, stealing the dead man's seat. "I won't apologize for being disgusted. What kind of fuckin' weirdo in his thirties goes after a teenager?" J shuddered, "Gross."
"I don't think many guys will agree with you," Frost laughed, "There's a reason it's a porn category."
J smiled meanly at Johnny, "I didn't ask what you thought, Frostie. I will ask you to clean this mess up." he lit a cigarette, Taking a long drag before snorting and continuing, "Good thing you've already dug the hole, huh?" he snickered at him, who rolled his eyes but began dragging both bodies back outside.
"Leave the time capsule. I have an idea." He said without turning back to Frost.
He shrugged, and turned, taking only Bernie back out of the room, leaving Joker alone with his introspective mood.
AN: Please review, its my only motivation to write, lol.