Crossroads

One Month Later.

The blinds are thick, dark, set as low as possible; and yet still, a deep orange sunlight manages to struggle through the fabric. Thin shards of light slice through the musty, darkened room and shatter against a cheek, crumpled with sleep. A muffled yawn rouses from twisted covers, and Hayley rolls over, fingers idly stretching out for another warm body. She is met with freezing sheets instead.

"Again?" she mumbles, voice thickened with sleep and irritation. Hazy green eyes open, and with a grunt she rolls out of bed, feet arching as they meet icy floorboards.

She can hear a low mumbling from the other room, and a small part of her hopes that it is Kyle. But, as usual, it is only the television, switched on god-knows how many hours ago by him. She trudges over to the ajoined kitchen, picking up a stone-cold mug of coffee off of the counter and tossing it into the sink. The white counter is yellowed with similiar coffee-rings from days previous, and as hard as she may, she can't seem to rub them out.

There are little pieces of him scattered all over her house, even though all he's done is stay the night for barely a fortnight; there's a spare toothbrush in the holder, cigarette stubs in the empty flowerbox outside her window, tacky red ashtrays in the cupboard that she never would have used herself. She decides she doesn't mind it all that much.

Wait, she's supposed to be angry at him. Forehead creased, Hayley picks up her phone from the same counter and rattles up a quick, slightly angry text message to Kyle.

do you always run away after you have sex? unresolved daddy issues much?

She gets a response almost instantly.

Hey, my dad's a better lay than you will ever be. Accept it, move on.

An involuntary snort/chuckle escapes her, waning away her annoyance somewhat. Goddamit.

let's see how you like it when i don't let you into the house.

Let's see how you like it when I don't come home and you have to sleep aloneeeeee

A small spark of bitterness flares up in the pit of her stomach, and she switches on the kettle and jumps up onto the counter a little too violently.

i wake up alone, what's the difference?

She could practically hear the sigh emanating from his next text.

Alright, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, ok?

...can you at least tell me where you run off too?

Would you believe me if I said I'm Batman?

Nope. You're too scrawny.

Ouch.

The kettle dings, and Hayley is ripped away from her thoughts of what to text next.

Have to go, coffee's ready.

She sloshes the boiling water into a bright blue mug which is Kyle's of course, hissing when a few scalding drops trickle down her finger. Cursing, she sprinkles in the coffee granules and whisks it all up with a teaspoon, before settling down on the couch and flipping open her crappy phone again.

Aww, don't be mad.

i'm not mad, just disappointed that you won't tell me.

You're just gonna have to trust me with this. It's nothing that'll endanger my life or anything. I'm just in a little debt and I'm running a few errands.

God, the jolt she felt when she read that. He sounded painfully like her a couple of months ago. Biting her lip, she anxiously twiddled her thumbs as they hovered over the keypad. He couldn't possibly be in trouble with the mob too, could he?

...it's not mob stuff, is it?

God no. Why?

Despite the small surge of relief, her thumbs twiddled nervously again. This was already prodding and proking at the delicate relationship they had - she wasn't sure whether or not she should tell him everything. Ask him for help, maybe? She would probably need it. A familiar churning set off in her gut when she thought about what she was going to have to do either tonight or tomorrow tonight.

No reason. See you this afternoon. x

alright. I love you. x

Oh jesus, she was going to have to tell him now he said that.



Hayley was going to have to do this eventually. Travis had said two weeks, it had been nearly three. What if he had moved? Then, were would she be?

Why was she so fucking terrified?

Because you're in way over your head. What are you trying to achieve by seeking him out, anyway?

Groaning as the logical side of her brain berated her, she crawled under her thick covers and squeezed her eyes tightly shut - trying to waste away the last few hours before Kyle came back, at around 1pm. She needed to talk to him.

Well?

The only explanation she could dredge up what that she wanted to hurt him like he had hurt her. The way he had looked at her when she had gunned down one of his henchmen, eyes burning into hers - it still gave her the chills. Like he knew something was going to happen, and he was anticipating it. It made her sick.

Honestly, when she had thought of this wild plan, she had been distraught with Sam's death and pretty happy to die along with him. Now that Kyle was in the picture - she certainly wasn't ready to die, but that didn't mean she wouldn't continue.

It seemed to be the only way to move on - she wanted the graphic nightmares, the random flashbacks of his mutilated face to stop, and although she didn't believe in ghosts, it seemed that Sam would haunt her in his own special way until she did something about it. Revenge seemed cliche, but how else could she describe it?

Hayley hadn't been getting a lot of sleep because of it, which was why she eagerly accepted it when her eyes began to slip shut and her scattered train of thought began to fade into darkness.



Kyle still wasn't home when she woke up. Usually she would collapse for a few hours in the middle of the day, and be stirred from sleep by him banging around in the kitchen. But instead, she was woken up by the phone ringing. That shrill sound had become somewhat of a bad omen to her this past month, so she answered it with caution.

"Hello?" she answered groggily.

She just had to be proven right.

"Don't think this is over, Hayley."

"Why can't you just fucking leave me alone?!" she sat up in bed, fuming. "This isn't even about Maroni and his stupid debt anymore, is it? This is just you."

But Clyde had already hung up.

Letting out a strangled scream, she flung the phone across the room, wincing at the resounding crack that followed. The blood throbbing in her veins felt unnaturally hot, and the violent impulse to just hurt something leaped up and clogged her throat. It had been so long since she'd let out any anger - sickeningly enough, it was because of Kyle. But her short fuse was inbuilt, and you couldn't really smother nature, could you?

Breathing heavily, she dialed Kyle's number; Clyde's thinly veiled threat only spurred her on, reminded her that she probably didn't have too much time left.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Come home, now."

"I know, I know, I'm irresistible."

"Kyle, this is serious. I need your help. You trust me, right?"

He sobered up immediately.

"Of course." he hesitated, almost as if he was afraid to know; "What exactly am I assisting you with?"

"I need you to help me find the Joker."

She waited for him to hang up, call her insane, maybe even ring up Arkham Asylum. But all she got in response was;

"I'll be there in ten."