Well, time has a way of throwing it all in your face

The past, she is haunted, the future is laced

Heartbreak, you know, drives a big black car

I swear I was in the back seat, just minding my own

Big Black Car / Gregory Alan Isakov

The quiet, but quick stream of curses under my breath didn't break for even a moment as I sprinted down the dark street, praying I could make it to the body and hide it before its discovery. I was thankful at least that J had been kind enough to have his man leave the box on my Balcony. I made no mind to my appearance, images of Jack Ryder waking and stepping out of bed to see old bones, flashing behind my eyes, again and again.

Killing Ryder isn't an option. He wasn't just a public name, he was a public name- connected to my own. My breath heaved, as my pace continued, and I swore I could still hear him laughing behind me. Bastard.

I made it to my apartment door, slid it open, and slinked into the foyer. Standing silently for just a moment I listened for any sign of life. When I heard none I padded my way quietly to the Balcony.

It looked the same. Dirty. But the same. I felt a tremor in my limbs, and I knelt, hoisting the box, nearly toppling onto my ass, as I overestimated the weight. Dry remains would be much lighter than a living human man. I placed the box in my bathtub, Turning and locking the bathroom door, before sitting on the toilet.

I chewed my lower lip as I remembered the way I dragged the makeshift coffin to the hole, with a hand-tied harness thrown over my shoulder. I bet JROTC never would have guessed what I would use those knot-tying skills for. I chuckled at the thought, before slamming my palm into my forehead with a groan. The tremor in my spine advanced through my body, without pause.

What now?

I didn't realize I had spaced out until the bathroom was full of smoke and I had panicked through half a pack. Fuck. I opened my cell phone and dialed a number with tears in my eyes.

"Eddie, I know, I know. I'm sorry it's late. I need help. Eddie. Shut up. Thank you. I need you to do something for me and not ask any questions, okay?"

The door knob jiggled, and I stood, dropping the phone as I reached out to grip the handle in a panic, before shouting to Jack through the locked door.

"Sorry, Babe! I've been sick all night!"

He was silent for a long moment before he answered. "Did you call me babe?"

"Jack. I am sick." My tone was stern.

"Right. Sorry." He said. "Babe."

"Jack."

"Sorry." He giggled, making his way down the hall. I didn't breathe until I heard the front door close behind him.

I picked up the phone. "Eddie? Yeah, sorry. No, I wasn't- Eddie. What did I say about the fuckin' questions?"

I opened the front door of my apartment, to look into Eddie's worried eyes. He handed me the thick-walled large plastic container I had asked for.

I looked behind him before looking back into his eyes irritably. "Where is the rest?"

"It's in the car…"

"Well, bring it up here then." I hissed.

"Harley-"

"Eddie," I warned with wide eyes, gesturing him into the apartment. He stepped inside and turned to close the door.

"Eddie…" I started, before sighing heavily. "Listen. If you want to ask, ask. But once you do you won't be able to take back knowing."

He turned to look at me, a small amount of fear in his eyes. "Harley…" He took a breath. "Goddamn it Harley." He lifted a hand to his forehead, pulling it through his sweaty curling messy red hair with a sigh that almost sounded like a sob. "Do you need an alibi?" He turned back, jaw tightening, and nodding. "Maybe I saw Jack leave last night?"

"Eddie." I stopped him. "I admire your enthusiasm, but Jack is okay."

His face dropped from frantic but steadfast determination to genuine confusion. "Then what…"

I sighed, hanging my head. "If you want to know, I will tell you, but once you know, you know."

He seemed unsure, biting his lip, but finally nodding.

"I killed Guy Kopski," I started.

"Wha-" He seemed confused, but I stopped him before he could finish the question.

"And that was completely taken care of right up until Joker dug up his bones and left them on my balcony last night."

Eddie's eyes shot wide. "Joker… knows…"

"Yes, Ed, but we have bigger problems right now."

He went pale, looking towards my balcony. "Oh god… His bones… are here?"

"In my bathtub," I answered with a nod. "I need to get rid of them, and I don't want to risk moving them back out of the city. Knowing my luck I'll get pulled at the first traffic stop."

Eddie turned green. "Oh god…"

"Please don't vomit." I sighed.

"Why are you so fucking calm?"

"Because I killed the motherfucker ten years ago, and no one is looking for him, Ed," I said exasperatedly, and He flinched. "I have nothing to be scared of because no one is going to find out. Joker heavily implied that Bernie Bash is dead, which means the only other person who knew I went to that cabin is gone. Who in their right mind would ever believe that clown, Ed?"

Ed watched me with wide eyes before nodding. "I… the buckets are still in my van. I'll bring them up."

"Did you get the protective gear?" I asked, and he flinched before nodding. "Good. This shit is pretty serious."

Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair, again. "You're lucky I have keys to the Lab you know? It's not even my department."

I was lucky. Ed had been temporarily transplanted from his home project at the Electronics Division at Wayne Enterprises to help out in their Bio-Tech project months ago. No one else would have been able to get their hands on a strong enough acid to dissolve the bones, and the necessary precautions to dispose of the fluid afterward.

He walked back out of my place, and I made my way to the bathroom, lifting the box, and carrying it to the kitchen, once again surprised by how light it was. Setting it down on the kitchen floor I chewed my bottom lip, staring at the lid, nails jerked out of the top, and now only held together by the aged rope, re-tied around the box.

Suddenly, staring down at the closed lid of the box, I felt nineteen again, driving back into Gotham City. It had felt like waking up behind the wheel. Shock slowly set in as I realized what I had done. The way I had tormented the man, and the depth of the depravity I had committed. I remembered all of it but felt as though someone else had committed the actions, using my hands, using my voice. I remembered the way I jerked the car off the road, vomiting repeatedly as I sobbed and shook.

Then, I remembered the look in his eye, when he woke up, unable to move, the paralytic coursing through him as I pulled him up into a sitting position, so he could see what I had done. The way his numb lips had trembled, and his eyes filled with tears overflowing again and again, as he looked down at the twin stumps at the edge of his torso, then back up to me, as if begging it all to be a dream.

The giggle escaped without permission, and my hand raced up to cover my lips, as I stared with wide eyes. I do not have time to go postal right now.

I cleared my throat and wiped a hand over my face, before grabbing a black elastic hair band from a kitchen drawer and pulling my hair into a tight ponytail.

Just then, Eddie made his entrance, pulling a dolly with two five-gallon buckets on it, and a bag of safety gear. "Just a warning, Harley. I, Uh. I don't know anything about this stuff."

I chuckled, and reached for the bag, pulling out a protective gown, and a pair of gloves that went up to my elbows. "Don't worry." I snapped a pair of nearly comically large goggles on before continuing with a smile. "I do."

I dissolved the bones and the box, before neutralizing the acid, alone alone in my kitchen. I asked Ed to step into my hallway while I did, both to avoid questions regarding the number of limbs the skeleton had and also to prevent him from vomiting at the sight of human bone.

A small part of me panicked at the sight of the irrefutable evidence that I had murdered a man, a fact I don't believe I truly faced until that moment, staring down at the bones. It was so easy to not think of it that way, before now. Last I had seen Guy Kopski, he had been alive. A little worse for wear, but alive. 'I couldn't have killed him. He was alive last I saw him.'

It settled on me then, that perhaps cruelty wasn't the only thing I had in mind when I dragged his restrained body into the hole, screaming, and begging for his life. In a way, the act was therapeutic, allowing me to see, once and for all, that the villain of my nightmare was really and truly gone. This box of bones couldn't hurt me. I smiled as I worked, a display that would have been garish in the scene, had my face not been covered by protective shielding, suddenly thankful for the clown's actions, in a perverse sort of way. Although I resolved to never admit it.

I refilled the buckets with the clouded and stinking liquid, and Ed and I hauled the heavy buckets to the elevator, before dumping it down the mop sink of the Janitors closet on the first floor. Pam would have kicked my ass for disposing of the solution in such an environmentally irresponsible way, but frankly, my Green-Peace streak only went as far as she did anyway.

Eddie seemed giddy, trembling with new life when we finished. He had wanted to go out, go to the Iceberg to 'End the night right', despite it now being Early Morning, and even myself being exhausted. He had been disappointed, but understanding when I declined, telling me that if I changed my mind, I knew where he was.

With Joker gone, my presence at Arkham was nearly unnecessary, so I resolved to send Sylvia an email before slipping into bed. But upon opening my apartment door I growled under my breath seeing the green-haired man on my couch.

"Princess, Baby!" I shouted and stared in rage when their heads popped up from the other side of the couch, cuddling up beside the intruder. "Fucking traitors!" I grunted.

His shoulders shook as he laughed at me, "It's not their fault, I bribed them with the Chinese food you left me." He handed Baby a spring roll as if to prove the statement.

"You're a fucking asshole."

"Yeah," He said slowly. "I guess that's why I'm here."

"You're here because you're an asshole?"

"In a way," He smiled winningly again before his face fell limp and he ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't know, Harl." He turned, lighting a cigarette. "I thought it would be funny, I guess."

"You thought it would be funny… to… put a box full of bones into my apartment? Or you thought it would be funny to make me relive the worst thing I've ever done?"

"Both." He nodded.

"Ah." My tone was dead, and he winced.

"I see that that isn't the case now-"
"And when exactly did you come to that stunning conclusion?"

"When you cried."

My tone had been facetious, but he answered earnestly, looking away. "I thought you would be… angry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I didn't cry."

"Whatever."

"I didn't." I insisted, and he lifted his hands in surrender. "So you're apologizing?" I asked.

"Isn't that what I did?"

"No. Not yet."

"Listen, don't push your luck, Doc." He arched a brow at me, tiredly. "I'm trying to own up here, and you aren't making it easy. Shouldn't you be thrilled? I'm communicating."

I barked a laugh and rolled my eyes. "Maybe I would be, if I thought it would prevent you from doing the next horrible thing you think is funny."

He shrugged, "I make no promises."

"As riveting as this conversation is, I need to send an email and go to bed. Please. See yourself out of my apartment." He nodded, but I saw him roll his eyes to the dogs beside him.

"Not joking J."

"I know, I know," He sighed, standing, and petting Princess when she whined. What the fuck is going on right now? I stared at the dogs, eye twitching, as I wondered if 95k worth of training was really rinsed away with a bag of leftover eggrolls. "I'll see you ladies soon," he assured them.

"No. You will not." I insisted, lips thinning. He looked over at me, groaning.

"Fine, fine." He sighed, dusting off his jeans, "I'm gone. I hope you're in a better mood tomorrow."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes, "What are you talking about?"

"Hm?" He tilted his head, as though confused. "Oh, I'll be by to pick you up tomorrow, I have some people I would like you to meet."

I barked a laugh. "Why in the fuck-"

I was cut off by my own voice, tinny, and lightly distorted, coming from the phone in his hand. "Fuck you for always winning. His name was Guy Kopski."

I heard a snort on the recording. "Well… I guess that is a guy's name, at least." Joker tapped the screen again before he tilted his head and interrupted me when he saw my mouth begin to open. "And I know, I know, Harley." He nodded reassuringly, fidgeting his fingers with a smug smile. "There is no evidence. No proof. Audio can be edited, right?" He chuckled before shaking his head, "But that isn't going to -uh- matter, is it?" His lip curled in condescension and my breath heaved without my permission, leaving my chest.

"No, Harl," His voice was a raspy whisper, as he toed my carpet with that shit-eating grin. "You wouldn't be able to handle the whispers… would you?" His eyes met mine, and he wet his lower lip as he took another of what I didn't realize had been many steps towards me, in a move that looked unconscious. I realized I had bared my teeth at the man, in an emotion I couldn't quite recognize.

"Fuck. You." Escaped my throat in a tone I didn't recognize.

"Don't tempt me." His voice was inhuman, as he glowered at me through lowered lids.

For a moment I continued to glare at him until the heat coming off of the man registered with me and I felt blood rise to my cheeks unbidden. And though he continued to be gargoyle-like in visage, glaring down at me, his hands came up, gruffly, but still with a softness belied by his… everything. He cupped my chin, eyes softening. I felt drunk on his closeness, suddenly, the smell of him filling my senses sweat, and skin. It made me tremble under his hands, lips parting under his softly tracing thumb.

"Harley," His voice was so soft, and my eyes flew open, as I realized what was happening.

"Don't," I gasped, twisting away from him, and separating myself by several paces. "Don't fucking do that," I cried, self-disgust coloring my tone. I breathed heavily in the corner, unable to face him again, afraid of what I would see.

"I'll be here tomorrow at Seven." He said, leaving no room for discussion, terse, short, and demanding. "Be outside, and ready to leave or I'll release that audio to every Journalist in Gotham City by Seven O'Five." and then he was gone, his exit punctuated with a heavy door slam.

Slowly, I moved to the couch, lighting a cigarette to place between lips that were suddenly tear-stained, and trembling, though I had no memory of when the tears had begun to fall. Princess and Baby paced the room restlessly, whining as I smoked, and I wondered to myself if the chill in my apartment had always been so bone-deep.

"Don't." Her big blue eyes were wide but unreadable, for the split second before she turned away from me, unable to move fast enough to separate herself from the rabid animal in her home. "Don't fucking do that." Her disgust was palpable, as her body trembled with unshed tears.

J filled the glass with amber liquid again, before lifting it to examine the color of the whiskey in the dingy lighting of the hotel room. What else did I expect? He chuckled to himself, lifting the glass, and grimacing at the taste. It burned him, to see her not want him, but he knew it shouldn't. He knew he wasn't exactly a catch, all things considered. But something about the woman made him lose all bearings, all ability to see reason.

Examining the glass, he refilled it and emptied it in quick succession, shuddering at the intensely unpleasant flavor. He had always been a man for shots, tequila, or vodka. A long Island, an Adios Motherfucker. This sipping liquor really did nothing for him. It tasted like shit and made him not want to drink. What kind of liquor makes you not want to drink? He snickered, before refilling and emptying the glass down his throat again. Another full-body shudder and a pained expression punctuated the oversized swallow.

Sadly, beggars couldn't be choosers, and this was what Johnny had on hand. I need to get some fucking sleep, J scolded himself, knowing he should be on top of his game before seeing Harley next. Her name caused the memory to replay behind his lids for the millionth time since he had left her apartment, and he cursed under his breath at the reminder.

"Don't." Her big blue eyes were wide, but unreadable, for the split second before she turned away from me, unable to move fast enough to separate herself from the rabid animal in her home. "Don't fucking do that." Her disgust was palpable, as her body trembled with unshed tears.

J lifted the bottle, filling the glass again, chuckling ruefully. I'm sure I'll sleep eventually.

AN: Please comment, it is such a joy for me lol.