At dawn, Harley locked up the diner, and then headed for Jack's car, which was waiting for her outside. He pushed open the door for her as she approached, and she entered, planting a kiss on his lips.
"How did your meeting go?" she asked.
"Fine," he said, starting the car and driving off. He didn't say anything else, so Harley had to prompt him.
"Fine?" she repeated. "So what did you talk about?"
"Just business," replied Jack.
"What kind of business?" she asked.
"None of yours," he replied, grinning and kissing her nose.
"Jack, I thought you were going to let me learn about your business," she said. "I really wanna know what you talked about."
"Boring stuff, baby, nothing to interest a gal like you," he said. "Your visit to the jail came up though. The guys were really impressed by you – it was hard for me not to brag by admitting you were my gal. They'd be awful jealous if they knew."
"Flattery won't stop my curiosity, you know," replied Harley with a grin. "Why won't you give me details of your meeting?"
"Because I spent most of it wishing I was back with you," he replied. "But if you insist. We talked about me getting rid of the Batman."
"Why would you want to do that?" she asked. "I thought you said you all had a truce while he was still alive. I'd have thought it'd be good for your business to keep him alive as long as possible."
"Well, the other families are getting impatient," said Jack. "And they think I'm the only one who can do it, because I'm as crazy as the Bat is."
"I don't think that's true," said Harley. "I ain't seen you dressing up in a Halloween costume, for one."
"You tell me what costume you want me to wear, baby, and I'll do it for you," replied Jack with a grin.
"I dunno what costume would suit you," she replied, grinning back. "But I'll think about it. I kinda like my gangster just the way he is though," she added, kissing him.
"I know you're impatient, kid, but wait until we get home," he murmured, gently pushing her off him so he could concentrate on driving.
"So how are you gonna do it?" she asked after a moment's silence.
"Do what? You?" he asked, smiling at her. "Well, I got several ideas for that…"
"Not me – how are you gonna get rid of the Batman?" she asked, hitting him playfully.
"I haven't decided yet," he replied. "From what I saw of him, he's fanatical about protecting innocent people, so I'm probably gonna use one of them as bait to lure him somewhere, and then spring a trap."
"You could use me," she suggested.
"Not on your life," he retorted. "I told you, I don't want you directly involved in my business again. Especially not in anything dangerous like that."
"What danger could there be with Batman and you both there to protect me?" she asked.
"What if I try to shoot him, and miss?" he demanded. "What if he dodges out of the way, and you get shot instead? What if one of the guys recognizes you from the jail, and thinks it's quite the coincidence that I picked you as my hostage? What if he begins to suspect I know you? What if he wants to have some fun with the hostage before Bats arrives? What reason could I give him for not doing that?"
"You could say I'm your hostage, and only you can have fun with me," she murmured. "And then you could, which would be pretty hot…"
"Harley, this isn't a game!" he snapped, suddenly angry. "This isn't some exciting, sexual fantasy you can end with a safety word! My life and my world is dangerous, really dangerous, and you getting involved could get you really hurt! And I couldn't cope with that, so don't ask me to get you involved again! It would destroy me, don't you understand?! It would destroy me if anything happened to you because of me! It nearly did!"
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and Harley gently lay her hand on his to relax him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry for yelling," he murmured. "I just…love you so much. You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah," she murmured. "I know that."
They didn't speak for a few minutes.
"I got some good news," she said at last, settling back into her seat. "Today is my night off work. So after my classes are over, we can spend the whole evening together."
"That is good news," agreed Jack. "I'm gonna take you out for dinner and dancing, how does that sound?"
"It sounds wonderful," she said. "I dunno that I'll be able to focus on my classes when I got that to look forward to tonight. I don't know how I'll be able to sleep when we get home either, since I'm so excited."
"Well, we don't have to go to sleep right away," replied Jack with a smile. "I'm sure we can do something to tire ourselves out though."
She giggled, kissing him again and gazing at him as he drove. "I love you," she murmured. "Let me tell you all the things I wanna do to show you that love when we get home."
She began whispering in his ear, which made concentrating on the driving very difficult for Jack. He did manage to park the car in front of his apartment at last, and then scooped up Harley in his arms and raced inside, kicking the door shut behind them.
They fell asleep in each other's arms, and woke up just in time for Jack to drive Harley to campus. She forced herself not to fantasize about that evening, and to focus on her studies, as difficult as that was.
Professor Crane asked to see her in his office after class, and Harley was surprised at this – she hadn't sent him another draft of her essay, so it couldn't be that.
She knocked on the door to his office. "Come in, Harley," he said.
"Hi Professor," she said, entering and taking a seat. "Did you want to see me about my essay?"
"Yes, in a sense," he agreed, studying the papers in front of him. "You're writing about fear as a motivation for crime now, are you not?"
"Yes," said Harley, nodding. "I thought you'd approve."
"I do," he said. "Only I was informed yesterday by another source that you were writing about the treatment of inmates at local jail facilities."
"What…source?" asked Harley, slowly.
"The police commissioner," said Crane, lightly. "He was here yesterday afternoon investigating how the Valestra gang broke out of jail. He had a photo of you he wanted me to identify, but he assured me you're not a suspect. He has no reason to believe a student in my class would want to help out the Valestra gang. But I do have a reason to believe that," he added, studying her.
Harley said nothing, hoping her face betrayed no emotion. She could feel Crane's eyes boring into her, trying to discover the truth. "You can't be helping him, can you?" he asked. "You can't be that stupid, a smart girl like you? Can you?"
"What do you think?" asked Harley, willing her voice not to shake.
"I think you are," he said, quietly. "I don't want to think that – I don't want to think that my most promising student is throwing her life away on some criminal scum. But I must go where the facts take me."
"You're a smart guy," agreed Harley. She didn't know what else to say.
"Harley, you must think," said Crane. "You must think calmly and rationally and logically about what you are doing, about what the consequences of your actions could be. Suppose the police do start to suspect you…"
"Would you tell them?" she interrupted.
He shook his head. "I want to help you, Harley, can't you understand that?" he asked. "I want to help you see the difference between the life you could have if you commit yourself to your ambition, versus if you commit yourself to a notorious criminal. Which one of those do you think is the better option for you, rationally?"
"It's…not a rational thing, Professor," stammered Harley. "Love isn't rational…"
"No, that word is no excuse for not thinking," interrupted Crane. "It's no excuse for anything. It is a false idol that mindless people follow because they have no choice, no brain. But you have both of those things, Harley. You can choose to end this now, before it's too late, before his dangerous lifestyle starts to affect you, and it will, I promise you. You can't be involved with a criminal without being tainted by his crimes. You have to stop now, for the sake of your future self, and your future sanity. You don't want to look back on this meeting as a crossroads where you chose the wrong path. You don't want to look back on your life full of fear and regret."
"I will never regret the best thing that's ever happened to me," she replied. "And that's Mr. J."
"Harley, I understand that such men can hold…certain charms for young women, that there's some perverse sexual thrill there, but whatever temporary pleasure he gives you is not worth throwing away your entire life," said Crane. "You could make such a difference in the world, you could be such a force for good, you could help so many people…or you could devote yourself to this criminal, who can only hurt and destroy you and everyone else he touches. There is only one sane choice here."
"I appreciate your concern, Professor," said Harley, firmly. "But I disagree."
Crane had rarely heard those words – nobody had ever been allowed to disagree with him before. He was the expert in human behavior, the expert in the human mind – there was no disagreement possible with the plain facts that he had outlined. "If only there was some way I could make you understand, to help you see…" he began, but then he trailed off.
"Will that be all, Professor?" asked Harley, standing up.
"No," he said. "I would also like to discuss some details in your latest essay draft - please sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked, turning on the machine next to him.
Harley stared at him. "What?" she asked.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" he repeated, turning back to her.
"Coffee?" repeated Harley, stunned.
"Yes, coffee," he said, puzzled. "Would you like some?"
"You're…offering me…coffee?" she stammered.
"Yes," repeated Crane, confused. "Is there a problem?"
Harley couldn't believe this was happening. If what Mr. J had said was true, the man she thought of as her mentor was intending to drug her. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. Mr. J must have made a mistake – Professor Crane would never do anything like that to her.
So she nodded slowly, and sat back down. "Yes…I'd like some coffee, please."
He poured her a cup, and she put it to her lips, trying to figure out if it smelled odd. But it seemed like a perfectly normal cup of coffee, and she trusted Professor Crane…
She sipped it – it tasted like a perfectly normal cup of coffee too. "Now, fear as a motivation for crime," said Crane, examining the essay. "As I said, this is the most common criminal motivation I've come across. But it's not just criminals – we all have fears that drive us, that control our every thought, our every action. Criminals are more likely to suffer the consequences of those fears, mind, the punishments our society metes out for those who will not obey the laws, wasting away in prison or being executed. That's if their lifestyle doesn't bring about their death anyway, being so dangerous…"
Harley suddenly saw a vision in front of her, a vision that seemed incredibly real, of Mr. J in a shootout with some other gangsters – one of them shot him directly in the stomach. He clutched at the wound, his eyes wide in pain and astonishment, and then he fell to the ground, blood seeping from the wound and pooling around him. He looked up and gasped her name as the light faded from his eyes…
"No!" she screamed, standing up suddenly. "No, no, no, Mr. J!"
She burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as she stared at the body at her feet. But then he was gone – the floor was empty, and everything in the office returned to normal.
Harley stared at the floor, tears still trickling down her cheeks, and then she slowly turned to look at Crane, who just studied her with a blank expression on his face. "You…you drugged me," she stammered.
"I helped you see the eventual, inevitable end of your romance," retorted Crane. "That is all."
"I…Mr. J told me, but I didn't want to believe…" stammered Harley, gazing at him with betrayal in her eyes. "How…could you? How could you make me hallucinate my deepest fears in order to teach me a lesson? How could you do that to someone you care about and respect…"
"It's because I care about and respect you that I have to make you understand!" shouted Crane, suddenly furious. "I won't let you do this, Harley! I won't let you throw your life away on some worthless criminal! And if you're too blinded by what you think is love for him to see sense, then I have to make you somehow! It's for your own good, can't you understand that?!"
"I'm not a child, Professor!" shouted Harley. "I know you probably see me as one – I know you think I'm just some naïve college kid, but you have no right to interfere in my personal life! You're not me, and you don't know what's good for me! And the idea that you would drug me and make me feel genuine terror for my own good is so psychotic I don't know what to say! I can't respect you anymore, just like you can't truly respect me!"
She stormed out of his office, shaking in fury. Crane stared after her, and then stood up and carefully put her essay back in his file cabinet. "She'll be back," he murmured, as he calmly shut the drawer.
