TW: ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION, DRUGGING VIA LIQUOR

You felt exhilarated as you and Harley walked to your new home. You had never stood up to Joker like that before, and it had felt so fucking good. Somewhere along the line, you had started to think that he was somehow undeserving of criticism. But now, you saw things as they were, and you made sure he did, too. And the fact he would never be able to get the last word was just the icing on the cake.

"I'm so proud of you!" chirped Harley excitedly as she rolled your suitcase. "That shit takes guts!"

"I know. I can't believe I just did that."

"Me neither! But I'm so happy you did. He was just beggin' to be put in his place. He's gonna be thinkin' about you all night now!"

You hoped he did. He needed to mourn what he had lost, since he would never be getting it back. "Yeah, but be probably would've been anyway."

"I like this (Y/N)! Confident, ballsy. I'd like to see more of her."

"Me too."

You weren't quite sure if being with Joker had made you lose yourself. After all, you had always been a little timid, despite your criminal aspirations. But, he surely didn't help you find yourself either. It was so obvious to you that this was your true self; it had just been constantly veiled by whatever unfavorable circumstance you found yourself in. Leaving Joker pushed back that veil.

You didn't just find yourself without him. You found yourself in spite of him.

"I think you will see a lot more of her," you smiled.

"Ugh, I love post-breakup glow ups. It just makes already sexy women even sexier, both inside and out!"

"My glow up is gonna be lethal. I can feel it."

"Oh, yeah. He's gonna be kicking himself every day for letting a girl like you walk out the door."

You felt your phone begin to vibrate in your pocket. So, you instinctively took it out and looked at it.

You saw that Joker's name was on the screen, and, for a moment, you almost wanted to answer the call. You were beginning to wonder if you would always be somewhat tempted by him. You figured that that was impossible, since time apart usually kills all feelings. But, he was such an important part of your life that you couldn't imagine not thinking about answering his call. You wouldn't do it, but you would definitely think about it.

"Don't you dare!" laughed Harley. "I was just congratulating you on standing up for yourself!"

"I wasn't gonna!" You pressed the red button, subsequently pocketing the phone.

"You so were!"

"If that's what you wanna believe, Harls."

You felt your phone begin to vibrate again, so you took it out of your pocket and looked at it again. Sure enough, Joker was calling again. You suspected that this wouldn't stop until you answered, which was the last thing you needed to do at that moment. So, you pressed the red button again and opened his contact. With shivering fingers, you blocked his number.

The finality of the action made you anxiously bite your lip. This was really it. All ties were severed. He couldn't contact you anymore, even if he wanted to. You hoped he wanted to. You hoped that not being able to would destroy him the same way he destroyed you.

   "Atta girl," said Harley while patting your back. "I'm gonna be straight with ya. This is gonna suck for a while. But eventually, you'll learn to deal. You'll be able to see things reminiscent of him without thinking of him. You'll be able to go out and party without feeling like you're cheating on him. You'll be able to live your own life!"

   You nodded as you pocketed your phone one final time. "Yeah. And hopefully being surrounded by friends will speed that process along a little."

   She smiled. "I know it will. In a few months, you're barely gonna remember the guy."

   "I wouldn't go that far. I'll always remember him and what he's done for me, both good and bad."

   "Yeah, you're right." She looked down at the ground, seemingly deep in thought. "Me, too."

   You grinned at her teasingly. "Now that I'm not with him anymore, I feel like I can finally handle the answer I know I'm gonna get to this question: do you still have feelings for J?"

   She shook her head quickly, almost as if she were offended at the assertion. "God no! How could I still have feelings for someone who hurt me so badly?"

   "I don't know. You were just so touchy with him, and you get emotional whenever he's brought up. That's just what it looks like. If I'm wrong, I sincerely apologize."

   "Yeah, you're very wrong. More wrong than anyone I've ever seen!" she said with a laugh.

   Her smile dropped quickly after, though. She began to fiddle with the necklace she was wearing, her gaze wandering from your eyes to the decrepit city around you. "It's just like you said. You'll always remember him, right? Well, so will I. I remember how inadequate he made me feel, but at the same time, how safe he made me feel. And that makes me emotional. But no, I do not have feelings for him."

   You didn't believe her. Not for one second. There was something in her eyes whenever she looked at him that was unbefitting of an ex-girlfriend. It was this twinkle of admiration, like she was still hanging on to his every word. Even when she was openly disagreeing with him, she still had that twinkle. She wanted his approval more than anything.

   You knew that you must have had your own twinkle, even now. But, you were determined to extinguish it at some point. As much as you started to like Harley, you did not want to model her behavior of being incapable of letting go of the past. Joker was now your past just as much as he was hers. And he needed to be let go and never thought of again.

   Even though you didn't believe her, you weren't gonna debate her on the issue, especially since you were accepting a generous offer that she had made. "Okay, you're right."

   Silence enveloped the pair of you as you continued walking. Harley had begun texting someone on her phone, leaving you to just look around and get lost in your thoughts. You noticed that the more you walked, the less trashy the city appeared. The houses and apartments were still run down here, but there were no criminals running amuck in this area. There was less litter (still some, of course), less of an industrial scent, and overall less buildings in general. Based on Harley's description of the Gotham equivalent of suburbia, you seemed to have been nearing your destination.

   "How much longer?" you asked.

   She sent one more text before putting her phone away. "Not long! It's just a few streets away."

   "It looks so much better here."

   "Tell me about it. Coming here is like a vacation for most of us."

   "Is there...like...any crime at all in these parts?"

   She laughed as if you had just said the most absurd thing on the planet. "Well, duh! It's still Gotham, sugar! The difference is that the criminals here have the decency to act at night. Ya won't see any guys fighting with knives in broad daylight here."

   "Oh, okay. That's not too bad, then. I'll be knocked the fuck out by the time all that shit starts."

   She looked at you quizzically. "But you're a criminal. How come ya don't wanna be around crime?"

   "My own crimes won't kill me. Well, if I'm careful, that is. The worst it'll do is get me locked up. Other people's crimes could kill me. Like those guys who were fighting earlier. Did you hear the way they talked to us? If we made one wrong move, we could've died. Besides, it'd be hard to readjust to constant danger after being away from it for so long."

   She nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that."

   "Speaking of constant danger," you began slowly, wondering if you even wanted to hear the answer to this question, "does Two-Face frequent these parts?"

   Sensing your anxiety, she smiled softly. "No, sugar. And even if he did, he wouldn't think in a million years that you'd be out here. As far as everyone knows, you're still with J."

   You nodded, feeling some of your worries lift. "But your friends will still keep an eye on me, right? Just in case?"

   She nodded again, grabbing your hand. "Just in case. And I'll be calling you all the time just to make sure you're okay. J will want to know."

"If he's so damn concerned about me, he shouldn't have dumped me."

"Preachin' to the choir. I think he's an idiot for doin' that. And once you get back on your feet and establish your solo criminal career, everyone else is gonna think that, too."

She threw an arm around you then, giggling heartily. "In fact, they probably already do! It doesn't take a genius to know that you're way out of his league!"

You scoffed. "Please. How do you figure? He's a dick, yeah, but physically? He is hot."

"He's got a nice body, for sure. But have you really looked at him?"

"I was dating him, Harley. Of course I've really looked at him."

"Then can you look me in the eyes and tell me that his grills look good?"

You laughed. "Yes, I can! I think they add to the little aesthetic he's got going on."

"What aesthetic?! His style is all over the place!"

"No it's not! He's got, like, fancy mob boss fashion."

"But he pairs bright green hair with a fuckin' purple coat!"

"He can't just wash out green dye so he can wear one coat! What, people with green hair just aren't allowed to wear purple at all?"

Harley sighed, almost as if she were disappointed in you. "I'm tryin' to hate on him, (Y/N). You're not matching the energy."

"Oh! Yeah, green and purple. Who the fuck does that? Ugly bastard."

Even though it was clear you were just playing around, you felt your body almost reject the lie. A big chill ran through you, your smile fading. Joker was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and even though he did you wrong, he also did you so right sometimes. You almost couldn't bear to lie about him.

Sensing your change in mood, Harley dropped the topic. You two just moved in silence, each reflecting on the man you each belonged to at one point.

Eventually, she stopped you in front of a decently-sized, tan-colored house. Compared to the houses you were used to seeing in Gotham, it really did look like a suburban residence. There was no peeling paint, no door that couldn't close right, no sleazy people shooting up on the lawn. Other than the grass being almost brown, the house looked almost presentable.

"This is it?" you asked happily. You could easily live in a place like this. Maybe you would even stall getting back on your feet just to milk this experience a little longer.

"Yep! Cute, ain't it?"

"Yeah!"

She grabbed your hand and began to lead you up the driveway. You noticed that there were no cars parked in it. "Hey, where are your friends? There are no cars here."

"They're probably out. That's okay, we'll just let ourselves in."

"You didn't ask them if I could stay? I thought that's who you were texting."

"Oh, no, that was another friend. These friends aren't great with answering the phone. Don't worry, once they get home and once they hear your situation, they'll definitely say yes."

You felt uneasy about just parading into a stranger's home uninvited, but you trusted Harley. "Okay... How are we gonna get in?" you asked as you two arrived at the front door.

"We just pull open the door. They never have it locked."

You raised an eyebrow. "They never have their door locked? In Gotham City?"

"Nah. Everyone knows not to mess with them. They can probably fight ten times better than me and you combined. They have a sort of reputation here." She twisted the knob and pulled open the door.

Immediately, the scent of old people hit you. That mildewy, humid, mothball smell that you always associated with retirement homes. "Jesus, Harls, how old are these friends?"

"Twenties, just like us! Why?"

"It smells like my grandma in here," you replied as the two of you walked into the house. You took in the decor, which was also very reminiscent of old people. The walls were plastered with floral wallpaper, and what should've been a cream-colored sofa had darkened with wear. On a shelf were rows and rows of antique china, each with floral patterns on them. In addition, a TV with antennas on it was standing on a table opposite the sofa. What year was that TV from..?

"And it looks like my grandma lives here. Who the hell taught these girls how to decorate?" you asked incredulously, walking over to an analog clock on the wall. Again, it was fucking floral, and each hand looked like a vine.

"Oh, stop. Beggars can't be choosers. And come on, the little floral vibe is cute!"

"I would say outdated, but hey, whatever floats their boats."

"Just sit your ass down. I'll make us some drinks while we wait for them to come home."

"Oh, no thanks."

"I'm making you a drink."

You looked at her, and she was looking back at you with the most intense conviction you'd ever seen. For some reason, this made you uneasy. Your skin prickled with goosebumps, which you tried to rub away immediately as if the movement could scrub you of that icky feeling. "Okay."

With a smile, she disappeared into the kitchen.

You sat on that stained couch and continued to take in your surroundings. The house was nice, especially for Gotham's standards. But something just felt off. It wasn't just the outdated decorations. It was some other factor. One you couldn't quite put your finger on.

You then saw something slink out from beneath the couch, causing you to jump and instinctively bring your knees to your chest.

Upon further inspection, it was a completely emaciated black cat. It looked scared. Its tail swished back and forth while yowling a long, frightening note, almost a plea.

Your stomach felt like it had flipped inside out. While living in this city, animal cruelty was far from the worst thing you had seen. But this cat felt like a sign that you were right to be worried.

It sat down in front of you, just staring at you. Or...urging you? What did it want?

Timidly, you reached a hand out to it. It rubbed its head against it with a grateful purr, its back arching. You were grateful that it was docile, but it looked so affection-starved that it didn't do much to quell your concerns. What were these people doing to this cat? Why was Harley so insistent that you drank? Why was no one home? Why was the house so weird?

You tried to shake off your nerves. Everything was okay. You would be okay. You were just keyed up from all the chaos from earlier.

Yes, that was it. You forced out a shaky breath before leaning back, letting your legs dangle off the couch again. The cat, who you had mentally named Midnight, began to rub against your legs now. You let it, since it seemed to be happier now.

Shortly after, Harley came back into the room with two glasses of red wine. She handed you your glass before sitting down with her own, swirling around the contents.

You stared into it, still feeling uneasy. "Hey, look at this cat." You pointed to the starving feline.

"Oh. It looks hungry."

"Yeah. Did you know your friends had a cat?"

"No, I didn't. It's probably a stray. I doubt they even have food for it here." She sipped her wine, totally unbothered.

You, on the other hand, were very bothered. You were perfectly fine with committing most types of crimes, but animal abuse was one of the ones you simply could not stomach. "Should we help it?"

"How could we help it? We'd just be throwing it outside and taking away its only shelter. Let it scavenge. And when it's done, it'll move on."

The cat peered up at you with green eyes, both filled with some sort of runny mucous.

You swallowed. "You're right." You reached down and pet the cat, hoping that it could sense your care for it.

"How's the wine?" Harley asked. The question was almost pointed, since she knew damn well you hadn't taken a sip yet.

"I don't know. I haven't had any yet."

"Well, don't keep me waitin'! It's aged to perfection. It's the high quality stuff. I wanna see how ya like it."

Hesitantly, you took a sip of the wine. You could tell immediately that it was not the high quality stuff that she had said. After living in Joker's mansion, you knew what high quality stuff was. But this wine was just like any other shitty wine you'd ever had: thin, overly acidic, and possessing a weird, almost metallic aftertaste.

You looked at her suspiciously, wondering why she had told such a lie as you swallowed your drink.

She laughed. "Yeah, it does suck, doesn't it?"

"Then why'd you tell me it was good?"

"So you'd drink it!"

"Why do you want me to drink so bad?"

"I can tell you're nervous about meeting your new roommates. I just want you to loosen up a bit. Take the edge off."

Despite your uneasiness, you knew that explanation made sense. You figured that maybe that wasn't a bad idea, so you sipped some more. The second sip was a little more tolerable than the first, yet you still cringed a little as you lowered your glass. "Do you think J will ship some better wine over here?"

"Maybe. I could try to convince him for ya," she replied with a smile.

You kept sipping at it, the placebo effect of perceived self-medication driving the action. You would do anything to make this icky feeling go away, even getting tipsy.

After you finished about half of the glass, you began to feel strange. This was odd for you, since you could usually hold your liquor pretty well. You wouldn't start feeling tipsy until at least two glasses.

"This stuff has a little kick to it," you remarked, your voice slurring as if you were already drunk. You felt drunk. Your mind was spinning, the room pulsing as if it were alive.

Usually, when drunk, you could muster some sort of enjoyment from the experience. Currently, however, there was no enjoyment to be had. Instead, this suffocating sense of paranoia overcame you. As your eyes darted around wildly, you could start to see faces in the floral wallpaper, each undulating with every perceived movement of the room.

"Yeah, it's a little strong!" she said with an almost knowing smile. She watched as you took in your surroundings as if you were seeing them for the first time, rising from the couch and standing before you.

Even in your paranoid daze, you could tell that she knew exactly what was going on. Something wasn't right, and Harley was responsible for it.

She gently pushed your chest, causing you to fall back against the sofa. "Just relax. It'll pass."

"This isn't normal," you breathed. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, your stomach churn. "Something isn't right."

"Oh, sugar. Things are more right than you know."

She giggled, playfully tapping your cheek with an open palm, just as Joker used to do. The contact sent ripples throughout your vision, the faces in the wall wiggling as if they were laughing.

The faces were watching. Judging. The cat yowled, seemingly affected by the tension between you and the faces. Did the cat see the faces, too?

You were paralyzed, mouth gaped open as you breathed hard. You had never felt so sick, so crazy, so...tired. Whatever she had done to you was making you sleepy, and your eyes started to flutter closed on their own accord.

"Yes, that's it. Go to sleep, doll. Everything will be fine when you wake up."

Even in your current state, you knew that was a bunch of bull. But, your body recognized that as just the blessing you needed to stop clinging to consciousness, and to willingly embrace the void you were beginning to fall into.

But, just before you fell into a deep sleep, you heard this fateful phrase:

"Two-Face, come down! We got her!"