Title: harley's rehabilitation
Prompt: Bruce takes in Harley and helps her get a roof over her head for once
Character/Pairing: Harley, Bruce, Cassandra Cain, Selina
A/N: For the DC Secret Santa for tjada-sees-the-world-go-round. Sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy! (Harley is so hard to write, I hope I did her justice.). I'm basing this off BTAS for the most part, with a little comic mixed in. I'm in the process of writing up the Diana/Bruce prompt, so hopefully I'll post that tomorrow.
Summary: It was strange, trying to be normal, trying to be good. Harley wasn't quite sure how she felt about that, let alone having the Batman of all people help her.
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A favour
"I need a favour," Selina asked, perched on the edge of the roof. "I know my favours aren't worth much, but still…"
Batman glanced at her. She clutched her wrist uncertainly, biting her lip when he didn't say anything. A nervous energy emitted from her and whatever she was asking, it was important to her. He approached her from behind, staring down at the city. Far below them, tiny headlights zoomed down the street. "What is it?"
"Harley, she…" Selina took a deep breath, turning to him. "She wants to change."
"Does she?" Batman asked. When Selina glared at him, he clarified, "It's a serious question."
"Right…she has tried before." Selina sighed. "She's serious this time. I know she is."
And how? He didn't ask—while he wasn't around for most of it, he had heard of Selina's, Ivy's, and Harley's time together. 'The Gotham Sirens', as the underground jokingly called them. For a while, it had worked. Ivy kept off the streets, Harley kept away from Joker, and Selina…well, whatever she'd gained from it, she'd only smile mysteriously when questioned. Like he'd expect any other answer from her.
And now, it seemed, despite their separation, it had done a world of good by convincing Harley to reform again. Maybe he should have more supervillains live together. Dick was always complaining about how boring reality shows were these days.
"I did it," Selina pressed, taking his silence for disagreement. "It took time, I slipped back, but I did it. She can do it too."
I'm having a bad day, Harley had declared once, one the verge of release from the Asylum.
I had them too, he'd answered as he returned her pink dress and perhaps that was all it took. A single bad day. A single good hand. She hadn't succeeded then but now could be different. "Alright. I'll do it."
Grateful, Selina kissed his cheek. "Thanks!" When he gave her a flat stare, she grinned. "Can't blame a cat for trying."
A warm bed
Harley Quinn jumped on her bed, testing the bed springs. There was a direct correlation between bounce height and how good a bed was. Science had proven that.
Probably. She was completely bullshitting it but there was a kernel of truth in every lie. Or so she'd heard. Anyways, this bed was in great condition. Nothing sagged. There was no smell. Hell, there were actual springs inside and none of those cheap slinkies either. Batman didn't mess around when he helped.
And perhaps that was the strangest thing about this—not the ordinary neighbourhood or the smooth walls of her apartment, not the normal neighbours or even the cleanliness of her room. These were things she sort of expected when she decided to go 'good'. The way she got them, though, was completely surprising. Harley Quinn was getting help from Batman. The Batman. What sort of strings did Catwoman pull?
She'd always thought the pair were close, but maybbeeee…Harley pouted. They could have had girl talk all this time. Ivy was terrible at it, hating people, but Selina? Ahhh, so that was what her sly smile meant when Harley asked about any lovers.
Well, Harley knew now. Next time they'd met, Selina wouldn't slip out of dishing it out.
She bounced one more time before flipping off the bed. Tumbling through the air, she landed almost perfectly. A 9.2, if she was honest. An Olympic contender. Heading to her window, she peered out at the peaceful town. Her street was dark and empty and quiet, so very quiet, nothing at all like the streets of Gotham. In the far distance, she could make out the silhouette of her old home city.
Better to stay away from it all, Batman had explained after he drove her here. That and Don't touch that were the only things she'd heard the entire ride.
Crossing her arms, she leaned on her sill. There might be some truth in that. It was too easy to get sucked back into it in Gotham. Mister J would never let her get away, not for long. Harley knew that, she knew that all too well, each time she got out, like quicksand he dragged her back down.
Better here, far from temptations reach. From Mister J and his poison, from Poison Ivy and her smile. He was too far gone to turn back and Ivy…she had rejected the choice entirely.
At one time, Harley would have agreed with that. At one time, she did agree with that. What had she gained from that? Nothing. Nothing at all. All she had was loss. They wouldn't love her the way she loved them, she could see that now. And if she didn't have love, what was left for her?
Harley stepped back and closed the blinds.
A resume
"Please, take a seat." The receptionist gestured at the waiting room.
"Sure." Harley gave her best Normal™ smile before scanning the fancy-ass glass room. The whole company felt too modern for such a small town. They were here for the tax breaks. The lower wages. And they called her the monster. At least she was honest about it.
Picking a seat, she adjusted her glasses. God, it was strange wearing them again, she'd been wearing contacts for ages. Her reflection this morning was like looking at a ghost. Brushed back hair, glasses, a suit; it was so easy to look domesticated.
To be honest, this freaked her out. Just a little. None of her skills in the past few years could help her here. Well, maybe the bullshitting, she was a grade A bullshitter, but beyond that...Harley sighed as she looked at her clear case folder. Inside was her resume, all neatly typed up.
Batman had installed the latest devices in her temporary house—a laptop, a printer, a phone. He even included one of those fancy-smancy virtual assistants. Oracle, it called itself. Cute name for such as a useful tool. Before Harley could even consider destroying her computer, Oracle had found a template, hooked up her printer, and even found several sites to help write it up.
"Harleen Quinzel?" The receptionist called out and Harley stood up quickly.
"Here!"
A rejection
"Were you raised in a barn?" Harley asked as she closed her door behind her. On the other end of the room, directly across from her, the Batman perched on the edge of her couch. Her non-ratty, non-smelly, barely-stained couch.
Maybe she should serve him tea. And then take a photo of the great Batman, holding a tiny teacup, his pinky out. And send it to Selina, just to get a rise out of her.
When he didn't say anything, she added, "Jeez, would it kill you to lighten up?"
"Probably not," he answered, and was that a joke? A dry, bad one, but a joke nonetheless? Before she could follow up, he asked, "How is it?"
"Let's see, it's been…a month?" Harley counted with her fingers, double checking. "A month. I made no moolah. I can't take care of my babies like that."
"You are not taking care of those hyenas even if you made money." Batman corrected and she pouted.
"They're my babies!"
"Noted. I'll cover your bills until you make enough." Was he rich? Or did the JLA have some sort of 'reform trust fund'? "How was job hunting?"
"Gee, I wonder what responses you'd expect an ex-super criminal to get?" Harley asked, rolling her eyes as she laid down on the carpet. Stretching her arms above her, she waved her latest round of rejection letters. "I'm actually impressed by how many excuses I've heard—and I thought I was a great liar."
He took the letters without warning, flipping through them quickly.
Surprised, she stared at him. "Ya know, reading someone's letters a crime. I could get you thrown in jail."
His lips curved up, slightly, almost a laugh. If there was one thing Harley could take pride in, it was this: Batman had laughed at her jokes, not Mister J's. Getting up, he headed to her window. "I'll see what I can do. This is good effort so far."
And with that, he launched himself out of his window, without a bye or a see you later. Par the course. Did even his friends at the Justice League have to deal with this?
"Good effort," she muttered getting up. The thing people said to losers to make them feel better. Effort. When there was nothing else to compliment.
Effort. She really shouldn't like that word as much as she did.
A night
Harley barely reacted when another presence landed on the roof next to her. Glancing to her side, she examined a girl dressed in black. There were obvious stitch marks in her batgirl outfit, making her look like a ragged doll. "Are you all raised in barns?" Looking over her shoulder, she added, "No Nightwing or Robin this time?"
"No." Batgirl, or at least someone that looked like a Batgirl, shook her head, her accent thick and heavy. She paused before adding, "No to both questions."
Gah. Another serious one. At least Nightwing would play along sometimes. She leaned back on the rooftop, staring up at the night sky. "Say, do you have to be sneaky when you apply?"
"Apply?" Batgirl asked, confused.
"Apply to be a night terror." When all she got was another blank look, she sighed and spoke plainly. "A 'Batgirl'."
"No, but it helps." Batgirl's fingers automatically moved as she spoke, signing each word. Deaf? Mute? For someone else? "Why are you dressed like that?"
"It makes great PJs." Harley tugged at the edges of her villain costume, rubbing the sleeve against her cheek. "Do you know how much it cost to make this? I can't just let it go to waste!"
"I see," she answered in a tone that clearly saw nothing.
"I just like wearing it sometimes." Harley shrugged. "Don't you just do things cause you like 'em?"
Batgirl seemed to consider this for a few minutes before slowly nodding. "Recently, yes. Training."
"Training? Blech!" Harley grimaced. Boring, utterly boring. How was Batman raising them? Maybe Nightwing was a fluke? The rest of this batfamily seemed more serious by the generation. Still, they made the perfect straight man, if only she could get them into a comedy club with her.
After a few minutes, Batgirl slowly said, "You can do this."
"Huh?" Harley pointed at herself. "You talking to me?"
"There's no one else here." Batgirl cocked her head, double checking her surroundings. With a shrug, she turned back to Harley. "I was bad too, once."
"Oh?" Maybe the JLA really did have a reform trust fund. Though, if they expected her to join without some pay, they had another thing coming.
"Yes." Batgirl nodded again. "I was evil too. You can change."
It was strangely comforting.
Another attempt
"Alright." Harley counted the coins in her bowl. $43.85 bucks. Not enough for rent, perhaps, but if she combined it with her waitress job, it could cover food at least. As nice as it was to have the goody two-shoes cover her bills, she need the independence. And less surveillance.
"You're funny!" A little girl shouted as she dropped another quarter into the bowl. $44.10 now. The girl skipped back to her mother, waving as she left.
Honestly, busking wasn't a bad gig at all. Maybe it didn't pay as much as crime but it was almost as fun. Dressed as a clown, she performed acrobatic tricks in front of schools and train stations. Instead of screams, she got applause and cheers. And people said that you couldn't transfer criminal skills.
"Take that, Orange," Harley muttered as she packed up. "'Our company thinks your skills are not applicable to this position.', my foot."
"It's good to see you're productive."
Harley stilled at the deep voice behind her. Peeking over her shoulders, she rubbed her eyes as she spotted the Batman. "Wait, are you even allowed to come out at day? Do you even exist in the day?"
He didn't dignify her questions with a response, instead holding out a letter. "For you?"
"You a mailman now? And I thought I was down on my luck." Taking it, she looked at the front and almost dropped it. "Bruce Wayne? What does he—"
When she looked up, he was already gone. Puffing her cheeks, she shouted, "Why do you have worse manners than a villain!"
A job
"Why're you're still visiting me?" Harley asked when she opened her door only to find Batman once again perched on her couch. Maybe she should call him Birdman. "Bored?"
"Think of it as post-care." Another dry joke. He really did have a sense of humour, it was just hard to find.
She dropped her bag on the floor and removed her coat. Despite the commute from the small town to her office, she'd kept the temporary apartment. Few tech, nice place, and best of all, empty roofs for her to leap around without worrying about some do-gooder or villain noticing. "So?"
"Like the job?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" When he stared at her, she relented. "Fiinnee. It's good enough. I mean, no one really wants to be a psychiatrist to make ads, but whatever." Rubbing her chin, she added, "Though, maybe I should have just kidnapped Bruce Wayne when he interviewed me. He's rich, a single ransom and I'm living the high life."
"High life in jail, perhaps," Batman added dryly.
She wasn't sure if he meant it as a joke or a threat. Probably the latter. It was hard to tell with this guy. Brushing it off, she slowly stalked forward to him. "So, I was wondering…"
"No." Point blank, without room for argument.
Harley bristled. "Hey! I didn't even ask yet!"
Batman gave her a blank stare. "Hyenas are not pets."
"They were my pets," Harley mumbled, glowering at him. "My babies. I bet they miss me." When he didn't answer, she crowed, "I knew it! They do miss mama!"
"…I'll consider visitation rights," he muttered.
A start, perhaps. But Batman didn't know exactly how persistent she was. Within the week, she'd have her babies.