Levity

I never doubted his integrity.

I never doubted that he would come through on any promise, any threat. And so far he had proven me absolutely right. I had enough money hidden in my bottom drawer to slip my mother some whenever Erik, it was Erik by this point, wasn’t around. Better than that I had enough to buy half decent food, to buy clothes and make-up and normal things I felt I’d never had enough of. I should have been smarter with the money, I should have given my mother more. I hadn’t and she had fallen far further behind on the rent than I had realised. The money I’d given her from helping Jack deal drugs had been spent buying them back for her and her boyfriend.

Once he found out we were being evicted he’d ransacked my room and bruised half of my ribs until he found the wad of money I still had from the last deal. That was the last time I saw Erik alive. Jack offered for me to fire the final bullet myself. I couldn’t and I’d hovered outside until I knew he was dead.

Jack had promised to destroy anyone who hurt me, he’d stuck to that. He had his integrity. But it was hard to pretend I didn’t spend most nights feeling so guilty and disgusting that even the nightmares were a comfort.

After that I spent little time at home, the new, smaller apartment right on the edge of the Slums. I didn’t want to be there. Jack didn’t want me to be there and by this time I was already completely infatuated with him. He didn’t feel the same, at least, I was never aware he did – he never acted on it, showed it. I had the impression I was just another of his pawns. He laid off me for a while though, would slip me money without asking me for any more favours.

There was four years before anything more happened, I was sixteen and Jack nineteen. I’d barely seen him for over a year, in fact I’d been worried he was locked up. I knew he wasn’t dead, I’d started recognising some of the other louts he sometimes ran with and some friends had told me about a deal gone bad. Jack had escaped it, in what I quickly learnt was his typical style. He’d gotten out scot-free, minus a few new scars.

I had become necessary again. And I thrived in his attention. The change in our working relationship came a few weeks later. We had been in the apartment he had ‘borrowed’ from a friend who was doing time, pestering me about something I was distantly aware of. “I'm serious, I don't know anything about it.” He pouted, rolling back onto his back, arm flung back over his head. His sudden nonchalance when he had just been grilling me aggravated me slightly. I stood instead, shuffling into the small kitchen space. Typically there was a minimal amount of food, his eating habits seemed as sporadic as his moods. I huff, digging until I find a packet of noodles not just out of date. “You want these?” He grunts in response but I hear the creak of springs as I set water to boil.

“You don't know who his supplier is?”

“No.” I keep my eyes planted on his, hoping this will someone make him believe me. “I told you, I don't know what shit Adam is getting involved in. I barely know him.”

“Just enough to fuck him.” There's a ghost of a smile as I freeze, “At least that's the latest gossip.” I go to brush him off, but he continues, “And the guys what, coming up for thirty? You know that's illegal right?” He laughs loudly at his own joke, as I don't join in the sound dips and ceases quite suddenly. I turn my back, dump the unappealing dried mass of food into the water. “You pissed now?”

“Nope.” I lie, jabbing at the mound with a fork, “You can make fun of me all you like.”

“I'm not making fun of you.” I shrug, make some noise of disagreement. “He is though. Not just that, taking advantage of you, which I do not...do not like.” His bare feet sound tacky on the floor.

“How is that any different to what you do?” It slips out, the verbal shudder of an argument I had held many times in my head. He's quite close behind me now and I stop prodding the saucepan. “Is that what you think?” I'm already regretting it, thinking of a way to reign the conversation back. “Really Eleanor, is it?” The use of my full name is a slap in itself.

“No.” I stutter, not flinching from the arm that curves around my waist and spins me. “I didn't mean...”

“Then what exactly did you mean?” I stutter again but he cuts me off, “I haven't done anything to you. I've never even asked you to do anything you didn't want to. So how in the hell am I like that piece of shit? I've...I've protected you, looked out for you when you were a fucking kid and then backed off to avoid getting you in any trouble. So how, exactly, Eleanor, am I like Adam?”

“You're not.”

“Then why say it?”

“I don't know.” He hums, leaning over and switching down the gas, the water threatening to bubble over. “Is that how you feel? Really?” His words are softer, “You think I'm using you?” There's no malice in his words now, he looked upset, brow furrowed, creases appear on either side of his eyes. My chest aches, “Be honest.” He implores.

“I stopped seeing you.” I don't need the lift of his brow, the explanation of what he had already admitted. That he backed off to keep me safe. “I know, I know.” I shrug, feeling more idiotic than ever, “I just...” I'm aware that he has twisted this conversation, that my anger towards him has dissipated with words that could be utterly false. But I'm still full of the naivety and in the midst of the feelings that will force me ever closer to him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.” His lips dart up in the corners. I want the smile back, “I know you're not like that, him. I was just being stupid.”

“Good.” He allows me a small smile now. Relief spikes and his arm drops, I move aside as he dishes the now lukewarm mush into two dusty bowls. “You need to stop seeing him though. Never again.” I agree without doubt. I don't know how much he is aware of, how I'd met Adam. How I'd come to end up in his bed whilst my mother faded further from me. She'd be dead within the year.

I'm still waiting for that famous temper, for some cruel remark I'd seen him aim at others who had pushed his buttons. None of that happens, he nudges me back towards the sofa and we eat in silence, the television replaying some awful comedy. The conversation drifts, and without realising, with that expect knack he has, I tell him everything. I catch the repulsed look he catches when I tell him just how low I have sunk to get the medication for my now terminal mother.

He fills me in about a new 'business' he is involved in, the persona he has developed involving some ridiculous masks. He tells me things only I can know, words that wrap around me and enchant me, trap me. Something he has always been very good at.

And he kisses me.
That seals it.


“How many people did you just kill!?”

“Me?” There’s not an ounce of Jack on his face, “But I’ve been here…how could I have killed anyone?” The ridiculous feigned innocence is igniting a reaction from me he clearly enjoys.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” The giggling stops as my voice crashes. “There were at least thirty people on that bus I nearly got on. Wade said there were five buses. Think about it Jack, think how many people you’ve just…”

He takes several long strides, no hint of a limp and is practically pressed against me within seconds. I don’t allow myself to move, although I want to cower away. I keep my feet firmly planted on the thin carpet, although I can’t stop my breath hitching in my throat.

“The bus you nearly got on?”

His face is still bare, still beautiful.

“Yes.” It’s barely audible and his eyes narrow, plump lips pursing. He’s waiting for more and I indulge him, “I was planning on running away. I was about to get on one of the buses that blew up. Wade was following me, he stopped me.”

His brows furrow for a second before they smooth again. “Huh,” he breathes, backing away, looking practically serene. “Wade wasn't who I had asked to keep an eye on you.” There's a familiar hint of suspicion and I shrug at him. “Lucky he was.”

“For who, you or me?” The smirk almost makes him ugly. “Not for everyone else.” I spit, finding the anger bubbling in my stomach again. “Over a hundred people easy Jack.”

“Sure to catch his attention then.” There's no reason for him to explain any further, we both know who Jack is referring to. “Here, sit, sit, sit.” He comes up to me again, pushing me backwards until I'm reluctantly sitting on the grubby double bed. “I have some questions.” He places himself next to me, sitting on one folded leg, head tilted. My stomach is churning still, but I can't tell how cross I am anymore, I feel nauseous and that's far worse, a tremor starting in my hands. I stare at my knees instead, “So, he's training right?”

“R..right.”

“Good, it should make this all more interesting.” He grins, manic, still not himself. The Joker fidgets, taps his fingers on his thighs. “So, where exactly were you planning on running away to?”

“New York.” He lifts a brow, is he surprised that I'm being straight with him, “Somewhere busy enough to disappear.”

“Well, it's gone really well so far. Let me know what the next part of your brilliant plan is.” I find a surge of courage, “Only once you tell me yours.”

He chuckles, practically hops from the bed back in front of me. “You ever sleep with Mr Wayne?” It may catch me off guard but I try to hide it, shaking my head. He grabs my chin, not hard but forces my head up so I'm looking back at him. He makes the familiar humming noise, “Really? With your history you didn't spread your legs for him?” I know we're both thinking of the same thing.

“Seems like you're the one fucking Crane now.” I wait for a hit, it doesn't come. His laughing only increases until he's practically wheezing. There are two short raps on the door. He ignores them completely and his eyes keep flittering to my face, making me redden. “I take it back. You're a lot more fun when you talk back. I'd almost forgotten.” The door is hit again, it must be important, no-one out there seems this stupid.

He sighs, “Answer it.” When I don't react instantly he clutches at my hand, pulls my backpack onto the ground and pushes me in the right direction. I do as instructed, sliding the latch free and opening it. Wade's brow lifts. “It's not you I need to speak to.”

“Why not?” Jack calls from behind me, his feet loud and he comes up, wraps an arm around my waist like he used to. “Elle is a very important part of the plan now.”

I glance at him, out of the corner of my eye Wade looks as lost as I feel. Jack smirks, “She's bait.”