Levity

“What?”

He whistles a short tune, four notes. It’s like a comic book character, the smoke about to blare from their ears. The calm before the storm. I blurt a weak answer, “Working.”

“With Bruce Wayne?” My teeth break the thin skin on my lower lip but I nod, although he is only half looking at me, peering from under his lashes. “Same thing you asked me to do before.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” His words slur into one, “I don’t remember ever asking you to work for Batman.” I open and close my mouth, mute. Finally I have his full gaze, dark brown, boring into me. I want to fidget, I feel so bare and uncomfortable with him glaring so hard. I don’t, I hold myself perfectly still; I know far better than that and keep myself where I’ve been placed. Jack is purely in predatory mode and he’s scoping me out, waiting for me to flinch when his rough hands drag across my thighs; when he grabs my arms and runs his thumbs over the scars that name me for the addict I was. He moves me to edge of the desk, pushing me so I’m perching uncomfortably.

He ends up staring me dead in the face. This is the hardest part because without the make-up, and even with the knotted scars in his cheek he is still the Jack I met when I was twelve years old. He is my Jack. Even I know that thought is a lie, he’s never been mine, not in the slightest. I can’t stare him out and I drop my eyes, letting him win.

Minutes after he makes the statement I answer, struggling to keep my voice steady. “No, you didn’t. But you didn’t complain once we worked out who Bruce was.” He considers this for a moment, head tilted and his features, even so gnarled are pleasant, gentle. Before I can finish my head is flung to one side and the stinging in my cheek erupts, a tiny gasp the only noise I allow myself to make. Just as swiftly his fingers dance over the reddening skin and I swallow the small amount of blood pooling in my mouth.

“I hate it when you answer back.”

“S…sorry.” I can feel the blood from the small cuts on his fingers drying in smears close to my eye. His lips twitch in one corner, as close to an actual smile as I’ve known in a good few years. “What’s he doing?”

I stupidly almost ask who but manage to stop myself. I can’t tell him that Bruce has been moping for a year, that he’s utterly destroyed physically and mentally and he’s a shell of who he was. I swallow more blood, the stinging in my face is now a dull ache and I can feel some swelling close to my eye.

“He’s been training I think…I haven’t seen him in ages. I barely do anyway I just sort out some meetings and…” I can’t tell if he believes me but he doesn’t give me any sign otherwise and turns away, grabbing one of the maps from beside me.

I vanish from his mind, no longer important or relevant. Whatever those maps show consume him completely. He nudges me off the desk after a while, gesturing half-heartedly to the other chair in a corner and without argument I sit on it. After more time passes the pain in my cheek lessens and of all things, anyone else would be terrified being held by the Joker, I start to feel tired and before too long I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. It must be the middle of the night by now and in-between dozes I can hear Jack tapping that familiar rhythm to himself and the men in the warehouse moving around.

Sometimes someone dares to come in.

Several times that happens to be Wade. It looks like he’s second in command again, as he was used to. I made sure to appear asleep whenever I saw his silhouette against the glass panelling or heard that familiar baritone. I had no idea where Wade had spent most of the last year, he hadn't been in prison- I knew that much. I’d seen him twice, scrambling through the crowds of the early commute. I wasn't sure at the time if he'd moved on or if he was following me. I suppose I had my answer now he was once again at Jack's side.

I’d met him one final time, not far from my apartment a few months back. Jack didn’t know about that, if he did Wade would be rotting somewhere and I doubted I’d still have the capacity to walk.

“He’s here.” Wade said simply, and I felt eyes scour over me. Jack sighed, and although I kept my face still I could tell his agitation had ruined whatever he had been working on. Paper was crumpled and bounced onto the cement ground. Jack clicked his tongue and heavy steps came towards me, giving me just enough time to ‘naturally’ wake as large hands looped around my wrists. “Where shall I put her?” Wade asked simply, practically ignoring my presence.

Jack muttered something lowly, scrambling through drawers and clutching white, slipping the ghastly plastic mask over his face just in time. There was a knock and without an answer the door swung open.

My stomach flipped. Any sense of tiredness was eradicated and my whole body was buzzing. Wade sensed I was about to make a very big mistake and started to half drag me from the room, leaving a couple of feet between us and the tall man who had just entered. It wasn’t enough and an arm slid, splitting us and forming a barricade in the door way. “I wasn’t aware she was a part of your deal.” A brow rose and I twisted as far from him as Wade’s hands would let me, shielding my face with my hair. “In fact I’d assumed you would have long done away with her now.”

“Funny.” Jack…The Joker replied, voice muffled by the mask. There wasn’t a hint of anything in his deadpan words and the arm slid above my head as the man entered the room. Wade kept pulling me away, out of the warehouse, up the few dingy steps and out into the chill of the night. I could barely feel the cold, too numb with shock and a bubbling sense of horror. He continued to tug me, swearing at my resistance but seeming to care little about the pebbles and fragments of glass catching my feet. He kept checking around us, tugging keys from his pocket as we approached a van and opening the back doors, wrenching me in so I spilled against the metal. He glanced around again, clambering in himself and closing the doors behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His words were meaningless and I ignored them.

“Is he working with Crane?” That was all I could think, could see. Dragging myself so I was seated, leaning against the side it just didn’t seem real. But then there he was, Crane had just strolled in, decked in a top quality suit. He’d remembered me, worse he’d mentioned me and Jack had just stood there, taken it. How could he possibly be working with Crane? Crane was the reason. No, the juddering thought shook through me, I was the reason his face had been torn apart, Crane was the catalyst but I was the cause.

“Eleanor.” Wade was in front of me now, not dissimilar to how Jack had been what felt like a lifetime ago. “Wade.” I managed back, trying to keep my voice cold. “Why is he working with Crane?” He rolled his eyes at me and the small motion flicked some sort of switch although of course he caught my hand before it was anywhere near his face.

“Aren’t you already bruised enough tonight?” His voice had lost that edge and with his free hand he held my chin and turned my face so he could look at the lifting bruises. “It’s not too bad.” A nail scratched a little at the dried blood. His hand falls and rests on his knee, “What did you do to deserve that?”

There’s a stretched moment where we both take in the ridiculousness of his question. Then, like two lunatics dedicated to an utter madman we laugh.

He never went by Jack Napier, not even the very first time I met him would he use that name. It was tarnished to him, the surname of his father who he refused to speak of. He didn’t have to, the neighbourhood we grew up in was quite secluded, trapped between stocking warehouses and what we all referred to as the ‘slums’. They were the worst part of the Narrows without a doubt, and with the rise in expenses for basic necessities and the plummet of the economy we survived on state hand outs and whatever money could be made.

Most of the time this money was earned illegally. Police raids and visits were common and practically every evening some would appear to try and settle disputes; to try and stop the brothels and small gangs that formed easily. There was something always happening, some danger and as much as you tried to avoid it there was always a way to be pulled in.

Jack had been my way in. He had approached me.

I always clung to that point, he could say what he liked and I could hate myself for my clinginess, for my incessant need for him but he had started all of it. He had walked over to me and he had sat on the crumbling wall beside me. He’d made some stupid comment I couldn’t remember and I’d held my tongue because he already had some sort of reputation and I had enough trouble at home as it was.

That was the era of Dale, he’d married my mother recently and when I first met Jack my neck was coated in fading purple.

Jack wanted me to move drugs for him, that was the general aim of his conversation, his need of me. I wanted to disagree but I didn’t dare and pathetically I was a little bit honoured he’d chosen me for the task. He was nice to me, and older and most importantly of all he walked me up the stained stairway to my floor of the apartment building afterwards. “Here.” He flicked through the wad of cash he had just earned and pulled out several notes. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Sure.” I breathed, this was the most money I had held in my short life. “Whatever you need.” He grinned widely at me, although at this point my head would barely have scraped across his chin.

“Good to know.” He started to leave, and I tucked the money down the jeans. I would have to hide it well, if Dale knew I had a couple of hundred dollars they’d be gone without question.

“Oh,” Jack stopped just before the smashed doorway, “Let me know if he touches you again.” His face was dark and I found myself nodding mutely, a little scared of the intensity in his eyes. “See you around Kid.”

He hadn’t asked my name.