Epilogue

517 27 18
                                    

The skyline of Gotham was a beautiful thing to behold at nighttime. Harley was perched on the rooftop of an old industrial building in the Narrows, staring across the river to the dazzling lights of the heart of the city, lost in her thoughts. It had been several days since the revelation of Thomas' plans and still she couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow that flooded her every time she thought of him. His loss in her life was immeasurable, the friend who was able to look past her flaws without exploiting them. And yet, that was exactly what he did, pushing her further and further until she was primed to kill the man she loved.

She sat on the ledge of the building, her feet dangling over the side of the roof. While the air still held a chill, she embraced every goosebump that wracked her body, wanting so badly to turn back the clock to a simpler time. But there was no way to do that. Only to move forward. Mr. J had been less demanding of her recently, as if he now trusted her to keep her own form of control. There were no threats of the basement or cuffing her to the bed. She was her own person and he recognized that. But it didn't mean he let go of his hold over her entirely. She would forever be linked to him.

A squeak caught her attention as the door to the roof opened. The footsteps on the gravel, paced evenly, told her exactly who was sneaking up on her. Harley didn't turn her head to confirm, merely kept her eyes on the skyline. The person stopped behind her, slightly to the left, but not joining her on the ledge. For some time, they said nothing, the sounds of the Narrows floating upwards towards them and basking them in the noises of the filth below. But Harley could still hear herself breathing, deep and calm, despite the tension that filled her.

After awhile, she finally spoke, never turning her eyes towards him. "This is one of the best views of downtown. The way Gotham wants to be. Not the dirty hole that we're standing in."

"You and I both know that it's just a mask, though," he said. Her friend, her betrayer, her weakness, her strength. Thomas Elliot. Hush.

"The lights twinkle like fireflies," Harley said. "I wish I could catch them in my hands." She dug into her pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "But they would burn like the sun, I think." Lighting the cigarette, she watched as the smoke drifted away from her, until it disappeared into nothing.

"Maybe, but you'd enjoy it all the same," he commented.

"I would."

The conversation came as easy as any other they had in the past. It felt good to be in the moment again with him, even if it was to be their last. Silence fell over them once again but it wasn't uncomfortable. As Harley took another drag from her cigarette, she thought of all those little things that couldn't have been faked. The way their eyes met when they joked around. The food he'd order for her, always knowing her favorites. The little touches, glances. It couldn't have all been an act to play on her emotions. There was something real about it all. She couldn't deny it.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Thomas asked.

"Your death wouldn't have brought me any joy," she said before sucking in more smoke. "And a part of me just couldn't. Couldn't bear to see you die. Stupid, I know, after what you did, but my heart has always ruled my actions."

"There's nothing wrong with that." He placed a hand on her shoulder.

For the first time, Harley turned her head to look up at him. No costume for him this time. Just his red hair shining in the neon light of the bar across the street, his eyes darkened in the dim lighting. A crisp, white, button-down shirt that carried his strong scent to her nostrils. His expression held the same sadness that she felt. Bridges burned, connections gone. But he needed this final exchange as much as she did. No Mr. J meant more honesty between them.

The Laughing Man, Book Two: GonerWhere stories live. Discover now