A/N: Hello, darling readers. So, I got the idea to do a little side project while I'm working on the rest of Smiling Out of Fear. I hope you guys will enjoy it! I do not own Batman or any related characters ((dammit)). Ps, happy Halloween, lovelies.

There was nothing worse than seeing someone you care about deeply in pain. These were the exact thoughts of Jonathan Crane as he looked up to see none other than Harley Quinn standing outside his cell, tears streaming down her face as she hugged herself tightly.

Jonathan had seen Harley cry a thousand times, usually for the same damn thing, and it never seemed to get easier. She was so young and so beautiful, and most of the time Jonathan was genuinely afraid for her well-being. And for him to be afraid…that was saying something.

Sliding off his bed, Jonathan went over to the glass window that separated them, placing a hand against it. "What's the matter, child?" He murmured, though spoke loud enough for her to hear. He glanced down the hall but spotted no guards. For supposedly being so high security, the unlikely rogues sure found it easy to break out whenever they pleased.

Harley came right up to the window as well, wiping at her tears with the backs of her hands. "It's…it's nothing, really," she said between sniffles. "It's just…Mr. J's gone and broken out, and he's left me here all alone! And Ivy's not here, and I just didn't know where else to go, and I already miss him so much!" At the last word, her voice broke and she was reduced to tears once again. Jonathan felt his muscles tighten, his hand balling into a fist at his side. He was so sick and tired of the clown thinking he could do anything he pleased, hurt anyone he wanted just for his own amusement. Well, nobody was laughing, least of all Harley. And when Harley wasn't laughing, when Harley was crying outside his cell at two in the morning, someone was going to pay for it.

"Sweetheart, I'm sure he'll come back for you," Jonathan told her, because he knew it was the only thing she wanted to hear. Sometimes it was okay to lie, right? When it was for someone's own good? Right.

With her big, innocent blue eyes, Harley stared up at him. "You really think so, Professor?" She asked wistfully.

Jonathan smiled down at her, wondering how such a bright little thing could have possibly fallen in with the likes of the Joker. "I've told you a million times, Harley, call me Jonathan," he replied, dodging her question. "Why don't you try to get some rest, child? I'll see you at breakfast."

He watched her go. He didn't want her to go, exactly. He wanted her to stay where he could keep an eye on her. Harley was just so delicate, so fragile. He knew, because he'd watched her get broken more times than he cared to remember. Every time they came back to Arkham, which everyone always did go home eventually, it seemed Joker had some new plan to amuse himself at Harley's expense.

Jonathan was sick of watching Harley get hurt, physically and emotionally. She deserved so much better than she had. Unfortunately, it would probably take a miracle to make her realize that.

Or, he thought as he retreated to his bed, maybe this time away from the Joker would give her a chance to see how a man was supposed to be treating a woman. Maybe, if he played his cards right, Jonathan could manage to break her free of the spell.

…

The next day, a blotchy, red-eyed Harley was led into the dining room by a guard. She said nothing as she plopped down at the table while he went to fetch her a plate, just rest her head on the cool surface of the table. The other inmates exchanged uncertain glances, but most of them knew better than to try talking to her when she got like this.

Most of them, except Jonathan. Giving a nod at one of the guards, he picked up his plate and went to sit beside her. "Hey," he greeted softly. When another guard came and placed her plate before her, she immediately pushed it away, making no indication that she was going to reply to him. "Harls, you gotta eat."

"I don't gotta do anything," she whined, glancing up at him. With her wide eyes brimmed with tears, she looked even younger, even more innocent. It damn near broke his heart. "I love him, you know, and he just left me here with all these crazy people."

Jonathan raised his brows at her, pushing his own food around with his fork. "I don't really see myself as being crazy," he muttered. Harley returned to her pouty silence again, leaving him to wonder why their little asylum family couldn't ever just have a normal day. Then again, there was no such thing as normal when you spent half your life locked up, was there?

Harley made it obvious she wasn't going to talk when she motioned for the guard to take her back to her cell. Jonathan watched her as she was escorted out, giving a great sigh and running a hand through his dark hair. He hated to see her like this, so lifeless and empty. Most of all he hated the way she allowed Joker to have such power over her, the power to completely destroy her any time he wanted.

"Riddle me this," a sudden voice spoke from beside him. Jonathan glanced over to see Edward Nygma, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "What happened to the scarecrow who cozied up to the clown's girlfriend?"

"A dead scarecrow," Two-Face piped up from further down the table.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at the other man. "It's not like that," he snapped, instantly on the defense. Harley was like a sister to him, nothing more. And it wasn't a crime to be concerned for her well-being. Everyone knew she was in an abusive relationship. Jonathan didn't feel his motives should be questioned for wanting to help her.

"Please," Two-Face said, rolling his eyes "You're trying to get close to her to get back at J for all those pranks he's played on you. It doesn't take a genius to see that."

Jonathan was not in the mood for this interrogation right now. He was tired and stressed and beyond irritated. The rest of the inmates were only pushing his buttons. "I have no reason to hold a grudge against J," he muttered. He regretted this instantly when the others launched into reminiscing every laugh Joker had ever had at Jonathan's expense. Eventually, he got up and left, grumbling to himself as he was taken back to his cell.

"There's nothing wrong with worrying about her," he mumbled, as the guard resealed the door to his cell. It was summer, and his cell was always extra hot. He wasn't allowed any ventilation, in case he would ever smuggle in some fear gas. Most of the inmates had to have customized cells to prevent them from using their methods of operation against the staff.

Jonathan lay down on his bed, the issue of Harley on his mind. It wasn't as if he thought of her in that way. He was well aware of her deep-rooted, mildly psychotic love for Joker. He just wanted to keep her safe, was all. He just wanted to look after her.