Chapter 2

It was well past ten when Harley finally let herself into the apartment, the darkened corridors and corners of the place illuminated by the ethereal glow that hung in the Gotham sky outside. She flicked on the light and set her bag down on the couch, letting out a deep breath as she glanced out the picture window at the skyline. She knew her Bluebird was out there somewhere, trying desperately to find an answer to this hellish kidnapping that had plagued them all over the past three months.

Harley pushed the thoughts out of her head. There was no sense in worrying about Dick. He was a big boy and he could handle himself, he had proven that much. As far as the kidnappings, it was best to leave work at work. Besides, she had nearly burned herself out working on the profile as it was. She needed to take a little time to relax and clear her head.

She headed for the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, turning her thoughts to the upcoming wedding. It was hard to believe that it was only a month away already. Bruce had taken care of most of it, insisting that they use the gardens at Wayne Manor for the ceremony itself. She and Dick still had a lot of work to do, however. As it turned out, planning a wedding and fulfilling duties as crime-fighters wasn't easy.

"Christ, could it get any hotter?" Harley cursed to herself as she got up and walked back into the living room, cranking the air conditioning and stripping out of the shorts and tank top she had been wearing. She stood there, relishing in the chilly air as it wrapped itself around her like a cool blanket, seeming to wash away her worries and stresses. She smiled to herself and wandered down the hallway to get a much-needed shower.

Sometime later, Harley emerged, her hair still very damp, to find Dick in the kitchen, holding an icepack to his face. She was immediately relieved to see him, but couldn't help but worry.

"What happened?" She asked, hurrying to his side.

"Nothing major, just caught a mean right hook from some creep. He's in worse shape, believe me." He replied with a smile.

"Still, you need to be careful." Harley said, pulling the icepack away to reveal an already nasty-looking black eye. She winced at the sight of it and laid a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Hope you kicked his ass."

"That I did." He replied, returning a kiss to her lips. "How was work?" He asked, setting down the icepack to peel off the upper portion of his suit.

"Long, boring and hotter than hell." She answered. "I swear, those people are allergic to air conditioning." She turned to face him and was caught with the sight of him. Naked from the waist up, black eye, bruising to his ribs, sweat gleaming off his muscular frame. Good God was he sexy. Harley shook her head. Almost seven months and he still made her knees weak.

"You should probably go finish drying off. I've got to get this stuff put away." He gestured to his suit. Harley nodded in agreement and headed for the bathroom. Dick made his way into the bedroom, twisting the coat hook that let him into his little hideaway. He replaced his suit to its hangar and grabbed a pair of track pants, slipping them on before he let himself back out.

Harley had tied her hair back and slid into a short sundress and was planted in front of the TV, watching the news report intently, digging for any new information regarding the kidnappings. Dick was on his way to the kitchen when a loud knock came at the door. Harley and Dick both looked at each other for a moment before Dick walked over and answered it.

"Barbara?"

"Hey, Dick. You're a hard man to track down these days."

"When did you get back?"

"Two days ago. You going to invite me in?"

"Oh! Yeah, come on in." Dick gestured.

Barbara wandered in, taking a moment to look around and see what had changed since she had left, when her gaze fell upon a pretty blonde, seated comfortably on the couch. For a moment or two, Barbara found herself unable to think at all. It couldn't be, could it? There was no way.

"I'm sorry, Dick, I didn't realize you had company." Barbara said, trying her best not to sound condescending.

"No, it's not a problem, Barb. Harley, this is Barbara Gordon, Jim's daughter. Barb, You know Dr. Quinzel."

"Yeah. I'd say I do." Barbara remarked coldly.

Harley stood and extended her hand, which Barbara reluctantly took.

"Nice to meet you." Harley said with a smile.

Dick, sensing the tension, turned to Harley. "Could you give us a minute or two to catch up?"

"Sure." Harley Replied, turning and heading for the bedroom.

As soon as Harley was out of eyeshot, Barbara turned very slowly to face Dick, her expression icy.

"Would you mind explaining to me what Harley Quinn is doing nestled up on your couch?" She asked coldly.

"She lives here, Barb. She has for a while now." Dick said calmly, watching Barbara's eyes grow wider and wider.

"So the two of you are…"

"Yeah." Dick replied. "Is that a problem?"

"You tell me. She's only one of the city's most dangerous criminals."

"Was." Dick corrected her. "She's been clear for almost a year now."

"But still… you and her?"

Dick paused for a second or two, cocking an eyebrow. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Barbara?"

"No, not jealousy, concern. In what reality does this end well, Dick?"

"Look, I get it. I understand the concern. But believe me, I've already heard this little tune from Tim. I know what I'm doing."

"I sincerely doubt that. I know this is going to blow up in your face, Dick and I'm going to have to pick up the pieces."

There was a long moment of silence as Dick studied her face, taking into account what she had said, and the underlying meaning of it.

"You're going to have to pick up the pieces? What is that supposed to mean? That I'm just biding my time with Harley until you came back? I don't mean to come across like an asshole, Barb, but you left me, remember? I moved on. If anyone's picking up the pieces, it's Harley. So don't come in here and make yourself out to be the center of my universe."

"Dick, I just don't want to see you make a mistake."

"It's none of your business anymore!" Dick shouted. "I've had it up to here with people insinuating that she has some grand scheme to corrupt me. I love her. I trust her. That's all that matters."

"Look, I didn't mean to come in here and make accusations. If you say you've got your life in hand, then I believe you. I know you can take care of yourself. But Harley…"

"What about her? You don't trust her? Join the club. Half the city doesn't trust her. It took her a long time to figure out that she doesn't care if people trust her anymore. All she can do is prove people like you wrong. And she will."

Barbara was silent for a long moment before looking back up into Dick's cobalt blue eyes.

"I'm sorry. But put yourself in my position. What am I supposed to do in this kind of situation?"

"A normal friend might be happy for me." Dick replied .

"I'm trying. In the meantime, what can I do to make it up to you?"

"Go talk to Bruce. Maybe you can help with the wedding."

"Wedding!?"

"That's right. Next month." Dick said calmly, waiting for the inevitable explosion of emotion. But it never came. Barbara took another long silent moment, intently studying the floorboards of Dick's living room.

"I think I'm going to go now."

Dick searched for something to say to defuse the situation and not leave it on as rotten a note as it seemed to be, but couldn't think of anything as he watched Barbara walk out the door.

Elsewhere in Gotham City, Jason Todd walked the streets. He walked as he had walked in his youth, contemplating and considering the consequences and outcomes of every decision he had ever made, both good and bad. He though back to the first time he had laid eyes on the Batman, glaring at him as he held the tires of the batmobile in his grease-covered hands, a mixture of shock, awe and fear painted plainly on his face. He had been a different person back then, nothing but a punk kid, spat forth by the corruption and shitty circumstances that this city had dealt him.

Jason stopped and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke billow and curl with the stifling summer wind. He though back on how the Batman had took him in, pitying him. He though back to the grueling training he had been subjected to. The pain, the humiliation the defeat he had felt when time after time he had been beaten back during those long months of training.

Jason's mind then wandered to the few short years he had spent as Robin, fighting side by side with the batman himself. He remembered the lectures and speeches about how he was too tough on criminals, about how he needed to show restraint and think before he acted. He remembered the rage that had built inside him.

The truth was, he now understood that Bruce was trying to make him a better man. Jason had been too stubborn, too hardened by the years he had spent on the street, too proud to listen.

Then everything had changed. When the Joker had beaten him to within an inch of his life, then left him to die in that explosion. Everything had been over in that brief, blinding second. Except it wasn't. He had returned, bursting forth from the Lazarus Pit, a trillion thoughts swirling through his fractured mind all at once. It had been impossible to cling to any kind of sense or reason. Then only thing he had been sure of was that he had to return to Gotham. He had to return home.

Jason stopped and gazed down a long stretch of road, watching the people as they went on their way. It was hard to believe that people still lived in this part of town, considering everything that had happened. When he thought back on all the criminals he had brought to justice during his time with Batman and looked at the city now, it really was disheartening to see how little things had actually changed. It made you wonder why they had even bothered in the first place.

That was the exact mentality that he had had when he had returned to Gotham. The corruption and chaos were still evident everywhere you looked. Nothing had changed. Why bother. It had become crystal clear to Jason in that instant. Criminals would never stop out of fear of incarceration or the police, or even Batman. They would always find a way to carry on, to endure. That was why he did what he had done.

Countless criminals, drug dealers, mob bosses, pimps, Jason had executed more than he could remember. There was a hell of a lot of blood still on his hands. Too much. It had taken years, but Jason had finally realized that Bruce was right. He always had been. Killing these scumbags didn't solve anything. All it did was lower Jason down to their level. He had allowed himself to become nothing but a murderer. Was that something a man could come back from?

There was a brief moment that Jason spent, staring out across the dirty streets of east Gotham, wondering if this was even worth his time. There was no way Bruce could ever forgive him, was there? There sure as hell wasn't any way for him to change what he had done. Once the blood was on your hands, it was impossible to wash off.

But then again, if there was anyone who could help him, who could make him what he was again, it was Bruce.

Jason took one last puff from the cigarette and dropped it to the concrete, a trillion thoughts still swirling through his head as he walked deeper and deeper into the night.

The echoes of every tiny sound bounced off the stone and metal walls of the building like phantoms. The darkness was broken only by the tiny bulbs of security lights, all of them encased in steel-wired cages. Bits of stuffing from the filthy mattress were scattered all across the filthy concrete floor. Shreds of newspaper and blurry, black-and-white photos clung to the grimy walls. It was a fairly quiet night in Arkham Asylum. But not for long.

The Joker sat upon the skeletal frame of what had once been his bed, staring blankly up at the walls, studying the text in the newspaper clipping. Harley, his Harley was getting married in less than a month's time to one Richard Grayson. It defied comprehension. Why would his girl betray him like she had? He had given her everything and she had spat in his face. Now she was not only getting married to this clod, but she was working with the police? It wasn't funny. Not even to him.

The Joker stared meticulously, studying the face of this Grayson character. It was him. Grayson had turned Harley against him. It was the only logical explanation for this betrayal. No doubt that this pretty-boy was the one behind the mask of Nightwing. The conniving bastard that had thwarted him during their last encounter was the same man that had stolen Harley from him. That worked out just splendidly. It saved Joker the trouble of tracking him down once he got out of this hellhole. Which wouldn't be long now. All it would take was the right amount of muscle.

In the silence of Arkhams hallways, the gleeful laughter of the Joker rang out eerily through the darkness, a harbinger of things to come…