The rain fell, soaking through the crowd of black cotton and polyester coats. The priests voice could barely be heard over the sound of the minuscule drops hitting the slabs of rock scattered all around and the dark mahogany coffin, lined with brass, which sat in the centre of small crowd.
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and to honour the memory of Judith Quinzel. It is the death of our friend that has brought us together, but her life that we wish to remember. We are drawn here by our common love, our common respect and our common grief." Sobs accompanying rattling shoulders could be faintly heard from either side of her as she stood with a straight face, the only emotions she felt being anger and regret, which laced her eyes. "This is certainly an occasion for sorrow but may it also be an occasion for thanksgiving because we are thankful for the gift of life and we are thankful that Judith Quinzel lived among us." As he finished, the priest nodded his head lightly and stepped back, lowering the book in his hand after closing it and holding the think leather back against his robed chest. Only then, did a single tear slide down her cheek, shown for only a second before being wiped away by a gloved hand.

She only went to draw out some cash, cash for a nephews birthday card because all she had was dimes in change. But she ended up being one of the three people buried after an explosion went off at the bank, signalling the start of what would end up being a triple homicide and armed robbery. That...that was the sort of news that took years to sink in, never mind a few short days while the police still cornered off the scene. However that phone call felt like it had come weeks ago, the one telling her to come down to the Gotham Police Station because there had been an accident...accident was an understatement.

"Are you okay poppet?" Her dads voice whispered as he leant over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders slowly. Slowly, she nodded her head but made no attempt to move any other part of her body as her eyes watched the coffin being slowly lowered into the six foot deep hole in the earth. "We'll get him, don't worry." Her father spoke again before kissing her on the cheek reassuringly. "He won't get away with this." But he would, there had been nothing left at the scene where the disaster had took place. Not a facial description, not a fingerprint, not a hair. It was like everything melted away. The police could try, but everyone knew that no one would be caught for the crime. The same thing had happened eight months ago, double homicide and armed robbery but the vile, sociopath of a killer was never caught.
"Officer Quinzel, I'm sorry for your loss." She heard a new, yet familiar voice say as she stayed staring at the same spot. The people around her had began to scatter, making there way to the pub now where a small get together would take place. She found that odd, how people could celebrate death...especially in the same place they celebrated happiness. "How's the kid doing?" The same guy tried to keep his tone hushed up she still heard and turned her head painfully slow.
"I'm not a child anymore Jim." Harley groaned, speaking for only the fifth or sixth time that day. Her voice was monotone but Jim seemed to force a chuckle though his thin lips.
"You still are to me Harleen, but I apologise." Jim Gordon bowed his head towards Harleen.
"Please, you know it's Harley." Harley replied as if she had the phase on tape, it was her go to sentence when things were tense or when anyone ever dared say her full name. Jim didn't reply but nodded again and then looked towards her father.
"Has there been anything yet?" Don asked, hope filling his words.
"Not yet Don...but they're still searching. Believe me, were not giving up." Jim Gordon replied, his expression turning hard and professional, it was the same face Harley seen him with every time she visited her father down at the station when she was little.
"Good. They have to find something, anything." Don whispered, his jaw clenching.
"We will, in time." Jim said and patted the slightly younger man in the back. The two had joined the force around the same time and because of that, had grew close over the past twenty five years. "Now how about we get going?" He started and Don plastered on a smile, shrugging Harley's shoulders with his arm.
"Sure. You know Harley, Jim's curious as to what life as a doctor at Arkham is like." Her dad smiled but she had to hold back a groan as her eyes rolled around the room tiredly and the three of them turned to exit the graveyard.
"Oh yeah." Jim agreed, sounding like he was talking down to a five year old instead of a fully qualified, twenty four year of Psychiatrist. "I've been wanting to talk to you about it for a while now. I heard from Dr Leland that you're one of the three doctors helping to treat Dr Crane." The mention of the ex doctor pulled at Harley's heart strings, it wasn't a topic she liked to think about or go near during a discussion. Jonathan Crane had been a respected member of the Arkham Staff ever since Harley joined the payroll just over a year ago. She even got the chance to be mentored by him, the fact she was now treating him was awful. He was so smart...so inspirational...now he was stored away with the rest of the crazies.
"Yes, unfortunately so." Harley nodded. "It's a sad case to have to deal with, but it's going well..." She lied, hoping to drop the conversation. In truth, Crane was if anything decreasing further into insanity. He barely talked about anything other than his work with toxins and his research and still showed no remorse for the acts he committed 8 long months ago.
"Good, you're not finding it too much to handle then?" Jim asked, looking up from the sodden and muddy ground for a split second to eye Harley. "What with all the...extremists locked up in that place?"
"It can get a little intimidating at times." Harley agreed, nodding along as her fingers fiddled with each other. "But I've always been attracted to extreme personalities as you say. I find it a lot more interesting, talking to them people, than sitting in an office all day reading papers."
"That's good to hear." Jim smiled lightly when they reached the gate to the yard and stood by the rented black limousine which would take Harley and her father to the local bar near her family home. It was a small venue, intimate, just right for people to come together to mourn and remember her mother.
"Are you coming to the reception Jim?" Don asked hopefully, leaning against the car door.
"I'm sorry but I can't, I'm on duty."
"The position of Lieutenant keeping you busy huh?" Harley's father joked, almost pathetically, but Gordon responded by chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
"That and the mobs that swarm this city." Jim nodded. "The sooner Harvey Dent settles into his new position and starts putting his plans into action the better."
"I agree, but we all know its going to be at least a year or so until then. For the mean time we just have to keep going." Harley looked to her father as he said this and guessed he was talking about both the mob battle and the murder case of her mother. The mob were the most highly expected suspects, and were thought to have been a cause if not the main killers.
"It's easier said than done." Jim raised his eyebrows pushed the bridge of his glasses higher up his nose. "Anyway, duty calls." He said and stepped towards Harley. "It was nice seeing you Harley, you've grown up a lot." She smiled a small grin that obviously was false and then watched over her father saying a goodbye to Jim before he opened the car door for her.
"Come on sweetie." He said, nodding for her to climb in, which she did. Afterwards, Don walked around the other side and climbed in once he closed and shook off the umbrella that had been sheltering the two of them from the weather. "You feeling alright Harley?" He asked with worry, rubbing his hand across her knee. "We can go straight home if you want to. We don't have to go to the bar."
"I...I think I'm going to head home. But you should still go." She began, turning to look out at the streets once the driver started the car and rolled away.
"I can't leave you alone sweetie."
"Yes, you can. I have to go back home sometime, I plan on going back to work tomorrow."
"There is no one forcing you to so soon after..." Don trailed of and Harley sighed loudly.
"I know but...I have to move on...we have to move on and we both have lives to get back to." Harley said. "The last thing I need right now is to get behind on my cases or loose my job."
"You won't loose your job Har-"
"I know...but still..." She shook her head and felt her eyes get glass once more, she couldn't count how many times this had happened over the past week. She never cried, ever...some made fun of her for that fact but the past seven days had brought out all the built up sorrow.
"If that's what you want sweetheart. I'll ask the driver to drop you off before he goes to the bar."

It was a thirty minute detour for Harley to get dropped off, when she moved out she made sure she was definitely independent by picking an apartment in a whole new district of Gotham. She didn't want her parents to 'drop by' on one of their walks...now she wished she seen them more often. The stiletto heels of her plain black pumps hit each concrete step until she reached her door on the second floor of her apartment block. Inside, the halls were relatively okay, but they were a disappointment after walking through a grand entrance which was the only parts of the building well kept. However she managed to keep her own apartment nice after giving it a good lick of paint and decking in out with IKEA's finest oak items.
"Home sweet home." She mumbled to herself, her voice hoarse and gravely from the fresh tears and tiring day. She dropped her purse to the floor by the door and then shrugged off her coat, hanging it up while she toed off her shoes. Then she slumped across the small open plan living room/kitchen and went straight to the fridge to pull out a half full bottle of red wine and a glass from the cupboard next to it. After finding a half small bar of chocolate, she then made her way to the couch and fell upon it as if she hadn't rested in days. Which she sort of hadn't, in-between planning her mothers funeral and organising everything and came with death she hadn't even had time to grasp the fact that her mother was gone. Murdered, killed, someone had taken her from them. It hadn't been her time to go but they'd stole her from life and it hurt. Harley was never going to see her mother again...that was something she found very hard to cope with but a healthy amount of red wine fixed that at night. Apart of her couldn't wait to get back to work just so her brain had something to focus on, but if that still didn't draw her attention away from the dark cloud now looming over her she didn't know what else would. But she'd cross that bridge when and if she even came to it.

Gathering the energy to sit up after a few minutes, Harley flicked on the TV but groaned when the news story of last weeks bombing was displayed on screen. Did they really have to still be talking about it? The words 'three victims', 'terror attack' and 'explosives' all stuck in her head as they rolled by the bottom of the screen. Stuff like this wasn't support to happen, only in movies did this sort of stuff take place...when only the famous actors and stuntmen were killed.
"Gotham police are still looking for the attacker who has yet to be identified, however new evidence emerged when one officer found what appeared to be a calling card in one of the registers at the bank." At this news, Harley's ears perked up and her eyes stared aimlessly at the screen. "A joker playing card, was found, linking this attack to the very similar one on Gotham City Bank eight months ago. This gives the police reason to think it was the same attacker, although it all seems too strange for us to understand." The female reported finished and looked to her co-anchor.
"A joker card? So a clown is causing all this trouble?" At the sound of their petty laughter, Harley snarled and flicked the channel. Her mother was dead and here they were laughing about it, charming. The world never failed to surprise Harley, some people were just more stupid and selfish then she ever imagined they could be.
"Idiots." She spat and then found a channel she could deal with, settling with a light comedy as she reached for her briefcase and pulled one of the many patient files out if it.
"Arnold Wesker..." Harley whispered and crossed her feet where the rested at the other end of the couch. He was one of Harley's more...intriguing patients, one of the reasons being that he only ever communicated with her through the use of a dummy. Take his puppet away and he was virtually a mute, diagnosed with multi-personality disorder he was really just an unstable man who had been forced through a bad childhood in the mafia. It was sad how much those people had effected the city and how many people in Arkham could be related back to the mobs. A lot of Maroni's men took up the C wing of mentally unstable but non dangerous criminals however Harley's sensed they were actually quite sane but had weaselled their way into light punishment and the strong possibility of being released after rehabilitation.
"Assholes, the lot of them." Harley growled and then threw down the file when she failed to be able to read a straight sentence. Her father had told her about the act Harvey Dent intended to put into action now he he had been named the new District Attorney of Gotham and she couldn't wait, if he did what he promised and it worked, Gotham would be looking t no more mobs and no more terrorism. It was a lot to ask, especially of one man but everyone was hopeful including Harley and the whole of the Gotham Police Department. It would undoubtably Magellan their lives easier...it was just sad that is hadn't happened sooner before this 'Joker' guy had managed to take her mother from her.