Harley had been too stunned by the revelation that Mr. J and Jack Napier were one and the same to do much of anything after he fled from the room. Professor Crane was speaking to her, suggesting alternative ideas for her essay, but she couldn't focus on what he was saying. Her mind was all in a whirl, trying to reconcile her nice and sweet Mr. J with the criminal Jack Napier, the criminal who had committed serious crimes, and been in and out of prison his whole life.
She had expected criminals to treat her the way Mr. Valestra had last night, making lewd remarks and being disrespectful toward her. But Mr. J had never done that – he really seemed to care about her. And if it wasn't because he was a nice guy, which he clearly wasn't, then what was it? Was it possible he sincerely cared for her, the way she cared for him? Was it possible…he loved her?
This speculation preoccupied her throughout her classes, and the rest of the evening at work. Mr. J didn't come in, and she didn't expect him to, but she sincerely hoped he would come back soon so they could talk. She needed to tell him that she didn't care that he was a criminal, and that her feelings toward him hadn't changed. She thought he had tried to kiss her before Mr. Valestra had come in, and she had desperately wanted him to. She didn't want to leave that kiss unfinished, if nothing else.
Just before dawn, she shut up the diner and started walking home. The sidewalks were deserted, but suddenly a car approached her, rolling down its window. "Can I give you a lift, sweetheart?" asked Sal Valestra, smiling at her.
"Oh…no, thank you, Mr. Valestra," she said. "I can walk."
"You can, but you shouldn't have to," said Valestra, stopping the car next to her and opening the passenger door. "It's dangerous out there for a young girl on her own – there are lots of bad men around who might try to take advantage of her. Come on."
"No, thank you," repeated Harley. "I wouldn't feel comfortable taking rides from…strangers."
"But I'm not a stranger, sweetheart – I'm a friend of Jack's," said Valestra. "You trust Jack, don't you?"
"Is he with you?" asked Harley, trying to look into the back seat, but she couldn't see anything through the tinted windows.
"He sent me," said Valestra. "He wanted to talk to you about that whole Jack Napier business. Now come on."
Harley shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Valestra, but he can come talk to me himself when he's ready…" she said, walking away.
She was suddenly seized around the waist and dragged into the car, as another hand clapped over her mouth. "It wasn't a request, sweetheart," growled Valestra, slamming the door shut and locking it.
"What are you doing? Let me go!" demanded Harley, more angry at being grabbed than anything else. Her anger soon turned to unease as Valestra turned off the engine, gazing at her with predatory eyes.
"What are you doing?" repeated Harley, feeling icy terror flood her body. Valestra seized her again, tearing at her clothes. "No! Get off me!" shrieked Harley, trying desperately to push him away. He pinned her down despite her continued struggling.
"I'm sorry it has to be like this your first time, sweetheart, but you'll learn to enjoy it," he murmured in her ear. "I promise I'll make you feel good eventually, but first thing's first. Got to break you in, don't I? And that takes a little pain."
Harley was sobbing as she felt his filthy mouth and hands all over her – it seemed like she would never feel clean again. She had dreamed of her first time, with Mr. J, and it wasn't anything like this. She didn't want this to be her first time, trapped in a car and violated by a mob boss against her will. She kept trying to fight him, but he was strong, and she shut her eyes tightly as he reached for his belt…
Then the car window shattered suddenly, and she screamed as glass rained down on her head. Valestra climbed off her, and gazed up in horror at Jack Napier pointing a gun through the window. His face betrayed no expression, but the look in his eyes was murderous.
"Unlock the door," he muttered, aiming the gun at Valestra's head.
He obeyed, and Jack yanked open the door, pulling Harley gently out. She kept sobbing as she collapsed into his arms. "Are you hurt?" he murmured in her ear.
She shook her head. "Just scared," she whispered, clinging to him desperately. "Don't leave me."
"I won't," he murmured. "Go back to the diner. I'll take you home in a moment."
She managed to obey him, her legs shaking as she climbed the stairs and unlocked the door to the diner. Jack saw her safely inside as he kept his gun trained on Valestra, and then climbed into the passenger seat next to him, closing the door.
"What did I say I'd do, Sal?" he murmured.
"Jack, it was just gonna be a bit of fun," said Valestra. "A little pick-me-up after that whole humiliating Batman incident. I thought you'd approve…"
"You thought I'm not a man of my word, is that it?" interrupted Jack. "You thought I'm just a clown who can't possibly be serious about anything. Well, that's the last mistake you're ever going to make, Sal. I would say I'm sorry for what I'm about to do, because you've been a good boss over the years, but I'm not sorry because you tried to hurt her."
"What…what are you going to do?" asked Valestra, truly scared now.
"First I'm gonna make sure you can't leave," murmured Jack, and he suddenly fired his gun into Valestra's leg. Valestra howled in pain, as Jack calmly leaned over and locked the doors again. He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it down Valestra's throat to stifle his screaming. "And then we're gonna have a little fun," he finished, pulling out his knife.
…
Harley waited in the diner, huddled up under the counter, shivering in shock. She kept glancing at the clock, hoping Mr. J would come in so she wouldn't be alone, but the minutes ticked by without him returning, and the sky began to lighten.
At last, the bell over the door rang, and she stood up to see Jack covered in blood. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this," he murmured. "But it'll be for the last time, and I guess it's an appropriate final memory of me, to remind you of what a monster I am. Shall we go?" he asked, holding open the door. "My car's parked around the corner – I didn't trust Sal so I've been keeping an eye on you. But I can certainly call a cab if you don't feel comfortable riding with me."
She just stared at him, shivering. Jack shut the door, approaching her slowly and trying to read her expression. "You want a cab?" he asked.
She shook her head, continuing to gaze at him. Jack expected to see fear and loathing in her eyes, but he didn't see that – he couldn't tell what was there.
He noticed her shivering, and the ragged state of her clothes, and took off his jacket. "There ain't too much blood on that – I removed it before I started work," he said, putting it around her shoulders. "You can keep it if you're cold…"
"I ain't cold," she said. "Just…"
She trailed off. He took her hand. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For everything. For lying to you, for letting Sal see you, for what he tried to do…"
"What did you do to him?" she interrupted.
He didn't answer, but avoided her gaze, and she suddenly knew. "You killed him," she whispered.
"Yes," he murmured, looking up at her and nodding. "He deserved it, after what he tried to do to you."
She said nothing. Jack looked for the repulsion he knew would come into her eyes at this, but it wasn't there. "How…did you kill him?" she asked at last.
"You don't wanna hear…" he began.
"Yes, I do," she interrupted. "I do. Please tell me."
He took a deep breath. "It was…slow. I took my knife, and…you don't want to hear this, Harley…" he began, turning away from her.
"Yes, I do," she repeated, turning him back to face her. "Tell me. It was slow?"
He nodded. "I…wanted him to be afraid, the way you were afraid when you thought he was going to…I wanted that same abject terror in his eyes. He deserved nothing less for making you suffer it. I cut him slowly, killing him by degrees, making him feel every slice. Making him scream and sob for mercy, which I didn't grant him. He didn't deserve mercy. He deserved the slowest, most painful death any man could imagine. So I gave that to him."
She continued to stare at him with her wide, blue eyes. "I'm…I'm sorry," he stammered.
"Sorry?" she repeated. "Why?"
"Sorry for telling you," he said. "You must be horrified."
"No, I'm not," she said slowly. "I'm not."
She gazed at him with tears in her eyes now. "You did this for me?" she whispered. "You murdered a man horribly for me?"
He nodded. "I understand if you can't…see me the same way again."
"No," she agreed. "I can't."
To his surprise, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth deeply into his. He was too stunned to respond at first, and she kissed him with a feverish passion which took him aback – he couldn't believe this was real.
"Harley!" he gasped in shock, when she drew away at last.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," she whispered. "But I was afraid. But I ain't afraid anymore. You killed a guy because he tried to hurt me. It's the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me."
She kissed him again with the same desperate passion, enthusiastic but unskilled. It was impossible for him to resist, his mouth slowly taking charge and teaching hers how to kiss, his experience shaping her lips and tongue to mingle perfectly with his. He wanted to embrace her, but it didn't feel right to lay hands on her after what she had been through, and she noticed.
"What is it?" she whispered, drawing away from him. "Why won't you touch me?"
"I don't want…to hurt you," he stammered.
"You won't hurt me," she whispered, taking his hands and guiding them down to her body. "You'll heal me. Everywhere you touch, everywhere your hands and lips touch me, will wash away where I've been stained. It will turn a nightmare into a dream come true. You can give me the most wonderful experience, an experience which will wipe out what he tried to do. I'll forget the man who tried to force me into love, and remember the man I willingly gave myself to."
He stared at her, hardly daring to believe that he was touching her. "You can't…want that," he whispered. "Not now, not after…what happened."
"Of course I want it," she murmured. "You don't know how long I've wanted it from you. I don't want to remember this as the worst day of my life – I want to remember it as the best day of my life. When the man I love first made love to me."
He was completely unable to resist her as she brought him behind the counter, and pulled him down under it. "Please," she whispered, gazing up at him. "Make love to me."
He was unable to control himself anymore, seizing her body and planting burning kisses all over it. He gave in to the feelings he had for this woman, this angel, who for now was a real woman. He kissed down her throat as he removed the remains of her blouse, his passionate kisses washing away all her feelings of filth and violation. His hands slid up her skirt, his fingers hiking it up, as his mouth moved down to worship her lower half. "Oh, Mr. J!" she gasped, spreading her legs for him. She kept repeating his name as his mouth and tongue made her body feel things she had never felt before.
He raised his head at last, and gazed into her wide, blue eyes, sparkling with adoration and love. "Are you sure you…want me?" he whispered. "I…I don't belong anywhere near you, let alone…inside you."
She smiled at him. "You do belong there," she whispered, unbuckling his belt. "I've been waiting for you my whole life."
"I…I don't want to hurt you," he stammered.
"Someone has to," she whispered. "And I want it to be you."
He was breathing heavily, clearly conflicted, caught between wanting her madly and not wanting to hurt her. She raised herself up on her elbows and whispered in his ear, "Please hurt me, Mr. J."
He moaned as he kissed her tenderly, and she pulled him down into her arms. She wasn't in pain for very long.
