"I met him at the candy store,

He turned around and smiled at me.

You get the picture?"

It was an average Friday afternoon in Gotham City, dark and gloomy, but perfect to one miss Harleen Quinzel. It was her senior year of high school, and though she had only just moved to Gotham, she seemed to be making plenty of friends. She was quickly accepted into the cheerleading squad, having competed in gymnastics for many years, and she had easily impressed her fellow students with her brains, giving her a number of acquaintances in other, more intellectual clubs as well. She had been nervous about moving, but things seemed to be working in her favor.

It had quickly become routine for the cheerleading squad to spend their free time at a 50's themed soda shop that was connected to a candy store, and – though the rest of the team had other engagements – that was where Harleen found herself. Her father was at work more than home, leaving their house empty. That was their life, more often than not, since her mother died, but they got by. Her dad gave her everything he could money wise; a house, good food, the best education money could buy in Gotham, and gymnastics lessons from the time she first learned how to do a cartwheel. But he was never home. Though she didn't want to seem ungrateful, the young blonde wanted nothing more than for her father to spend time with her. Instead, she browsed through the shelves, eventually finding her favorite caramel apples. With one in hand, she turned toward the counter, only to find herself colliding with a much taller figure.

Bright blue eyes wide with shock, she fell backward with a thud. "Oof!" She exclaimed as her back hit the floor. The stranger turned to her and, as she looked up, smiled softly, shaking his head. "Better watch your step there, kiddo," he chuckled, lending her a hand and helping her to her feet. He looked like the stereotypical bad boy, black hair slicked back and a leather jacket. For some reason, this made her heart leap. 'You need to stop watching Grease' she thought, shaking the idea from her mind. That was it. He reminded her of greasers in her favorite 50s themed movies. She had a faint blush on her face as she looked up at him, one which she attributed to embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I'm usually much more coordinated." For a moment, as she spoke, she found herself unable to look away from his eyes, a bright, mirthful green that made her want to smile herself. Quickly, she looked away, her pale skin reddening even more.

She couldn't have known that he was just as lost in her eyes for a moment, until he realized that she had on a uniform belonging to Anders Preparatory Academy. Too young for him, no doubt, but a pretty little thing. "Hey, no problem kid. I shouldn't-a been in the way." He reached down and grabbed her caramel apple, handing it to her. "Here ya go. Sweet looking kid like you shouldn't be missing out on her sweets." He winked and she giggled slightly, taking hold of the item. "Thank you, Mister…"

"Napier. Jack Napier."

She smiled holding out her free hand to shake his. "Harleen Quinzel. But my friends call me Harley." His hand nearly made hers disappear, and she was surprised at how rough it was. She had only held hands with a boy once, and his were so much smoother than this man's. She had flinched away from the boy, but was comfortable with the way Jack's hand scratched at hers. 'How strange' she thought, slowly pulling her hand away. There was a part of her that wanted to keep her hand in his, but she shook it off, again attributing it to too much Grease. "Is there any way I can make it up to you? Buy you something maybe?"

With a chuckle, Jack shook his head, holding out an arm. "How about," he spoke softly, "you let me give you a ride home. Streets can be pretty dangerous for a young girl like you, especially with that fancy uniform you're wearing." At his comment, she looked down with a small, almost sad smile "No, it's okay. I usually walk home from school anyway. And I was going to go next door for a while. Celebrate a little."

His eyes lit up at that, never being one to turn down any kind of celebration. "Well, what kinda celebration you talkin' about here kid?"

"It's my birthday," Harley replied with a shrug. "But my dad never leaves the office before eight. So I need to entertain myself sometimes."

The look on Jack's face startled her, the brief moment of pity turning into a wide grin. "Well, no one should celebrate alone! You head over," he exclaimed before taking the candy apple from her hand. "I'll pay for this, birthday present ya see, and meet you post haste."

Harley looked between her hand where the treat had been and where he now held it so many times, her ponytail must have looked like it was dancing. Here was this man she had only just met, being so kind. "Um… Thank you… But… Why would you do this for me? I just ran into you."

"It's not right to leave a nice girl alone," he replied softly. "Besides, I like your name. Harley Quinzel. A few small changes and you get Harley Quinn. Clowns, they put a smile on my face. Go on, kid. I'll be right over." With a nod, she did as he asked, her shoes clacking against the tile and the uniform skirt swinging, and Jack groaned, muttering to himself. "Don't be dumb Jack. She's gotta be at least twelve years younger than you." Still, he paid for Harley's treat and even a little surprise before stepping into the soda shop and finding the young blonde at a booth in the corner. As he slid in across from her, he held up his hands. "Alright kid, look closely. Ya see anything?" She shook her head, obviously confused. "Good, good, now," he put his hands behind his back, a joker card in each hand when he pulled them back out. "Choose a card."

Harley took the card from his left hand and, with a flourish, he produced the candy apple, enticing a laugh from the young girl in front of him. "You a magician?" She asked, taking the treat from him. "Gotta entertain yourself, right?" He asked gently, producing a rose in the other hand. "Happy birthday, miss Harleen Quinzel. What is it, sweet sixteen?" As far as Jack was concerned, it was an innocent question. He wasn't asking because he was interested, no. Jack Napier was a lot of things, but he didn't go for girls that young. That was just crazy. And then she laughed, and he almost wondered If that was true.

"Eighteen. Didn't think I looked that young," Harley teased, and the breath of relief Jack let out let him know that it wasn't innocent. Still, she looked too sweet to get caught up with a guy like him. Best let this be the first and last meeting.

"Well hey, it'll serve you well when you're older," he joked, winking. "Well kiddo, I gotta get going, work and all. Hope the rest of your day goes well." With a nod, he removed himself from her presence, fighting the urge to turn back even as he climbed onto his motorcycle. He allowed himself a look before taking off, and regretted it instantly. There she stood, young Harleen Quinzel, watching him intently. Still, he smiled one more time, and then sped off on the streets of Gotham.