Miriam

Two days later, I’m waiting for Scarecrow to return from a meeting with Two-Face when I hear the doorbell ring. It’s secret, hidden behind a panel, and only a few know of it. I get up and walk to the door, curious.

“Hello?”

There’s no answer, so I wrap a hand around my gun before opening the door. I look down and gasp. Crane is curled at my feet. He’s been beaten, covered in blood and bruises. One of his shoes is missing, and his shirt is ripped. “Crane!”

He groans in the back of his throat as I pick him up, thankful that I’m strong. He presses his face into my neck, shivering breath hot against my skin.

“I knew this would happen, I warned you that Joker would have his revenge, you shouldn’t have messed with the girl,” I murmur, stroking the back of his head.

His hair is sticky with blood, plastered to his face. I push the door open with a hip and head to his room, laying him out on the bed. Guilt rises in my chest, heavy and aching, followed by the sour taste of fear. I’ve let my client get hurt, I broke the rule, I didn’t protect him. I let Crane get hurt, which is worse somehow.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll get you cleaned up, alright? I’m sorry.” I pull his clothes off and hand him a towel, supporting him as we walk to the bathroom. He’s speaking now, sort of.

“S’okay. M’ fault.” I turn the shower on and nudge him in. The water turns red with blood as he whines and squirms away. “Stings.”

“I know, sir, but you need to get clean.”

He vomits, once, staring listlessly as the water takes it away. When I check, there’s no evidence of concussion, so I begin to worry about internal injuries. I wait until the water runs clear before tugging him out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He needs my support to sit on the counter, waits patiently while I fish for the First Aid Kit.

When I find it, I stand to examine his wounds. His lip is split, but his teeth appear to be fine. Both eyes have been blackened. There are bruises in the shape of fingers around his throat and arms, the imprint of fists over his whole body. I swallow hard, tracing my fingers across the cuts on his chest. They whipped him, too, four long gashes down his back.

“I’m sorry, sir, really, I’ll leave as soon as you’re healed. You should hire someone else...”

He grabs my wrist with surprising strength, lifting his head to meet my eyes.

“Mm. No. Stay,” he forces out, then slumps forward to squish his face against my chest.

I cradle the back of his head and hum a lullaby vaguely remembered from my childhood. Crane relaxes after a bit, so I clean and bandage the cuts, press ice against the worst of his bruises. The fear in my throat has settled as I help him back to bed, smooth the hair away from his face to kiss his forehead. I’m surprised at my own tenderness.

“Are you hungry?” He shakes his head no and winces. “Rest then. It’ll be okay, sir, I promise. I’m here to take care of you.”

“Thought I tol’ you to call me Jon,” he rasps, tangling his fingers in mine.

I tell myself the comfortable feeling it gives me is all in my head.

“Let’s settle for Crane. Rest.”

He nods off with his hand still in mine.

I leave when he falls asleep. I want to hunt down Joker, because I’ll only be satisfied when I’m elbow deep in his intestines. I won’t. Can’t. Crane’s punishment should be the end of this. I do find the Quinn girl, though.

I make sure she’s alone. The Joker would see me, I know that somehow. Quinn is walking the streets at night, casual as anything. I can’t decide whether she’s stupid or brave. Maybe crazy. She has to be one of those, to stay with the Joker. I wonder what Joker sees in her, what makes her special enough to keep alive. Harley Quinn used to help him with his crimes, but I’ve never seen this girl with him.

From behind, she looks normal. Average height, if a bit too thin. Her brown hair is lank and cut short. She’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Nothing about Quinn is extraordinary, until she turns around.

Her mouth is twisted into a permanent smile, making her look more like the Joker than I’m comfortable with. There’s a long scar down her nose, smaller scars on her forehead, and knotted scars around her throat. She looks empty, broken, and dull. I almost pity her.

Quinn runs a hand through her hair, showing off the tattoos on her fingers. It would be so easy to kill her right now. I don’t, of course. She walks away as I flip backwards off the roof and return to Crane.

I’ve only been out for a bit, so Crane’s still sleeping when I walk in. He’s on his back, arms at his sides. There’s a small crease between his eyebrows, and he keeps wincing, clearly still in pain. His ankle has swollen, so I grab an icepack. When I bend over his chest to check for a steady heartbeat, easy breathing, no broken ribs, he cracks an eye open.

“Miriam?”

I grin sideways at him.

“Hello, sir. Just checking your pulse.”

He groans and lets his head fall back.

“Mmph. Ache all over.”

“You were quite badly beaten.”

Crane’s loopy, giving me a loose smile that has just a touch of Scarecrow in it.

“Y’saved me, Miri. Thanks.”

“I should’ve been there to protect you, sir. I failed in my duties.”

“Sound like a soldier.”

He puts a hand on my hip and squeezes.

“You’re fine, Miri. Stay here?”

“Yes, sir.”

Crane drops off to sleep in seconds.

He wakes up screaming, hands grabbing at the air, eyes wide and unseeing. I have to sit on his chest and hold him down.

“Crane! Wake up!”

He wraps his hands around my wrists, holding me still.

“Black shadows, I can see them, the crows are coming to peck out my eyes and I can’t see. Don’t want, don’t....” he mutters, staring over my shoulder.

It’s strange to me, that a man who causes such fear should be so terrified.

“Crane, it’s just me, you’re dreaming. No crazy crows here,” I say softly, rubbing my thumbs along his wrists.

He blinks at me for a moment before letting go. He’s shaking.

“I’m sorry, Miriam, I...”

“Doesn’t matter, sir. We’re fine. Lie back, you might hurt yourself worse.” He obeys, shutting his eyes again and letting me stroke his hair. “I’ll check your bandages in a few hours, give you more medication. Sleep now, and don’t dream.”

“Yes, Miriam.”

It’s still a long time before I’m sure he’s asleep.