Harlequin

The street outside the restaurant was almost chill, smooth and gentle like a cooling breath, as he stood with Rachel next to a newspaper box, listening her spill her life’s problems to him; only perhaps half his mind was on her words. He planned her death quickly, calmly, as if he were laying out a grocery list.



She was taken with him; Harlequin could see that with little effort. The way her eyes winked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking at her; her open stance and her hand lingering on his--even her smile told him everything he wanted to know. It would be almost too easy to lure her back to the asylum with him, fooling her with stories and lies.



Who would want me?



She smiled up at him and took one of his fingers in hers; he winced at the thought of dirt smudging his clean, smooth hands.



“Harlan?”



“What?”



Rachel drew closer to him and laid her tired head on his arm, as high up on his tall frame as she could reach. “Do you have somewhere I can stay for the night?”



I win. “Yeah. I’ll get us a taxi.” Harlequin pulled her into a warm embrace; he could feel her shudder with other than fear as he smoothed her grimy hair with one hand. With his free arm, he flagged down a taxicab; it relented and pulled over to the curb. Remembering his façade of gentlemanliness, he opened the door and ushered Rachel into the car.



“Where to?” demanded the cabbie, chewing on a cigarette that looked as if it was about as old as he was.



“1204 Luxor Avenue. It's on the west side.”



“Okay.” He turned and slid shut the plastic divider that cordoned off the passengers from the driver. As soon as the cabbie had turned his head so that Harlequin stared at close-cropped hair covering a head with rolls of fat like packs of hot dogs instead of two beady eyes and a cigarette, Rachel crawled on top of him and wrapped her arms around his neck.



Frustratingly, he began to feel slightly sorry for her; perhaps she was a waif, years younger than he, a pathetic victim, but she belonged to him now--she was willingly committed for better or worse to the night with him, from which (he acknowledged) she would not likely emerge intact.



Making a Herculean effort to ignore the patches of dirt on her face, he parted her hair and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Rachel whimpered and nuzzled his chin, savoring the sensation of his stubble against her smooth skin. Harlequin felt neither revulsion nor attraction, but remembered his goal, and put his arm around her. He stared straight out the window of the cab, watching the streets.



"Harlan?"



"Mm."



"Do you want me?"



He blinked and stared down at her. "What--what do you mean?"



Rachel sat up and started to pull her shirt up. "I mean, do you want. Me."



"Rachel, I don't think we shoud do this in a taxi cab."



"Why not?" Her tone was worrisomely intense.



"Rachel, put your shirt back on."



"But I--"



"Put it on."



"Fine." She shrugged her shirt on, sullen, and sat on the other side of the bench, her arms folded. He was dismayed at the goodwill he'd squandered.



The taxi came to a halt. "That'll be twelve eighty, sir." Harlequin unbuckled his seatbelt and took out his wallet, handing a five and a ten to the driver. "Thank you." Still irritated, Rachel stepped out of the car, refusing to face him. The car sped off, leaving them alone. Harlequin felt himself tense.



"Rachel."



"What!" She whirled to face him, saw the glower on his face, and amended: "W-what?"



"I was going to say, I'm sorry. I didn't feel comfortable in the cab." He swallowed hard. "I--do--want you."



"Oh." The tone was clearly skeptical.



"This is going to sound weird." An idea had occurred to him. "Do you want to go for a swim?"



She frowned, but cocked her head, clearly intrigued. "Where would we go swimming at this hour?"



"Well, I know a place. Not very--romantic, if you know what I mean, but why would we need it?" Harlequin stepped forward and took her hand, hoping that the smile on his face was a friendly one.



For a moment, he was unsure, but a smile opened up on her face, like the sun breaking through clouds, and she nodded in skeptical agreement. "Okay. Where is this place?"



"Up a little ways, off Schumaker Avenue. It's a short walk." Pulling her along, Harlequin crossed the street, ignoring the pedestrian signals.



-------------



"So what is this place?"



"You'll see." Harlequin dug in his pocket for his keys as they followed the side road into Evergreen Mental Facility.



"What kind of pool is it?"



"Big. And lighted. You'll like it." He hoped that he hadn't forgotten about anyone still in there.



"Ooh. Is it heated?"



"Yes."



"Oh! That's awesome." She peered up at the building's facade. "Um, what is this place?"



"It's an old hospital."



"It's creepy."



"Oh, stop."



"But I don't know what's in there!" she protested. "It's creepy."



"Uh huh. That's what makes it fun." He put an arm around her. "Don't worry."



"I suppose I can trust you," she said, laughing, and nestled her head against his arm.


*A/N: Please review! I'm taking this in a different direction eventually, and I want to know opinions.