Shark of Spades

The Story Behind the Nothingness Part II

He wrapped the last of the bandages around me. "Keep those on for a few days."

I nodded, sitting up and pulling my shirt down over my back and resisting a groan as I felt the beginning of the soreness set in. "Thanks."

I began to reach for payment, but he shook his head and instead sat on the  table next to mine, studying me. "So how come you're playing poker with a bunch of guys who don't know that you're not one of them?"

I shrugged. "That's how life is."

He nodded absently, running a hand through his hair. "Still sucks, though. How old are you, anyhow?"

Again, I shrugged. "Seventeen, I'm pretty sure."

He  was quiet for a minute. "The world's a hard place to live in." He stood  up. "Hang here for a minute. I just have to put my stuff away, then I  can walk you back to your place."

"It's fine. You don't need to."

"Sure I do."

"Why would you want to?"

He  stopped moving for a second and shrugged before resuming his previous  pace. "Because that's the way the world used to be, the way it should be. It should be a place where kids get home safely."

Then he disappeared deeper inside the shop.

***

He  came out five minutes later with a jacket and (after offering it to me -  I refused) led me to the front of the store and out onto the street,  turning off the lights and locking up behind himself. Then he waited.  "So which direction should we start walking in?"

I wordlessly held out one hand and pointed to the right, and we walked in comfortable  silence for ten minutes. Then we were at my place, and we stood in front of the door to my apartment for a minute without talking.

Then he broke the silence with a sigh. "So, how long are you going to be around here? Not leaving town anytime soon, I hope?"

I shrugged, and on instinct, I answered, "I'll be around for a while, I guess."

He backed up a step, smiling confidently. "Cool. Hope we meet again." He paused. "What's your name?"

I smirked, but my eyes were sad. "I can't tell you that."

"Really? Not even just your first name? Or just the last?"

"You know that if I told you anything, it would be a lie. At least I'm being honest right now."

He sighed, but when he exhaled, he was laughing softly. "True. Oh well. Goodbye, Ms. No Name." With a wave, he was gone.

***

Sometimes, I hate my instincts. Yeah, they keep me alive, but they just make me feel less and less as I go on.

I  was right to immediately pack up and move to the building across the  street, because around one or two in the morning, a squad car quietly  parked outside the apartment I had occupied not two hours ago.

I  sighed, shutting the blinds and walking over to the door with my  briefcase in hand. "Oh, Fitz. I'm sorry that I was right about you."

***

I  was shaken away by a strangely concerned looking Joker. It was weird seeing him without the fanged grin that always accompanied his large  (but fake) personality.

"What are you doing?" I asked plainly, not alarmed in the least but slightly annoyed. Or maybe relieved.

He let go of my shoulders and leaned back on my bed, clearly shaken.

"What happened?" I repeated, rolling my shoulders back and trying to find the clock.

With a sigh, Joker sat up, stretching in an agile manner. "Nothing much. Just - I woke up, and you were muttering a little bit."

I paused, suddenly aware of how dangerous this situation could possibly  be. Joker and I were friends - that was close enough for the truth. But since Fitz, I haven't trusted anyone. Ace was the only exception, but  even him...On one occasion, both Joker and Ace had told me different sides of the same story that utterly contradicted each other, but I haven't pried into that so far. Still...the safest way to have relationships was to remain completely unidentified. "What did I say?" I asked slowly, hoping against hope that Joker didn't hear anything that might let him know more about me.

He hesitated and looked at the ground before slowly raising his eyes to mine. "Nothing."

"Jack, tell me what you heard," I commanded, using his real name to show how serious I was.

His eyes were clouded over with a troubled expression that I never saw on him. Then, letting out a breath, he asked, "Who's Fitz?"