Beta: RisqueSno

Spoilers: Heavily references comics from the storyarcs "Death in the Family" and "Under the Hood".

Author's Notes: I feel like anything I say here will give away part of the story, so I'll save it for my end notes. I will simply say that this is something I've wanted to write for a really long time.

First Impressions

The Joker had been missing for days. That wasn't anything new to Harley, but it always drove her crazy. She didn't know whether he'd been incarcerated or if he just had better things to do. In either case, she already knew how best to cope and headed for Ivy's, looking for comfort if he had been caught and naively thinking her disappearance would punish him for his absence if he hadn't.

After a week or so she began once again to exist without him and shift to life with her gal pal. It was the old routine of late night giggles and daytime science crap she couldn't find more boring, which normally led to them both becoming frustrated with each other. It was another such day and Harley was trying to keep herself occupied with cartoons while Ivy was working when the phone rang. Harley normally would have rushed for it to break the monotony, but the phone was in the other room with Red and "Rabbit Season" was on after all.

Ivy was tending to a rather common vine specimen and pondering possible ways to increase its natural defenses against the violent animal kingdom when the phone rang, which was odd in itself. It's not as though she made a habit of handing out her phone number. In fact, she rarely worried about having access to a phone at all, finding them distracting and usually connected to irritants on the other end. The only reason she had one at the moment was because she was expecting a contact coming up from Belize with some exotic species and she wanted notification the instant they arrived and kept abreast of any possible complications. Even so, that call wasn't expected for a couple of days.

She let the phone ring a few times until curiosity got the better of her. Before she so much as answered with a typical 'hello' an unpleasantly familiar voice bellowed "Harley!" in a most demanding fashion.

"How the hell did you get this number?" Ivy asked the caller with a cross of anger and bewilderment.

"Pammy, when are you going to learn that I can do anything I want?" Joker replied casually but with a touch of impatience. "Be a doll and get Harley. You're boring me already."

"Why do you want her? So you can throw her at the police during your next scheme to fuel your getaway. I don't think so."

"Perish the though!" he exclaimed with melodrama. "Who would I find to get me food then?"

"…You want her to fetch you something to eat?" she asked in disbelief.

"Well, even a genius has to eat and there's nothing left here," he whined. "Harls has quite a lesson coming, leaving me all alone without any thought to my sustenance."

"You left her! And it was over a week ago!" She took a deep breath to calm herself. "I don't know why I ever try to talk to you as though any part of you could be microscopically rational," she stated, a bit flustered.

"Neither do I," he responded flatly. "They say doing something repeatedly and expecting different results is a sign of insanity." His voice dropped to a whisper as though he was trying to save her from embarrassment. "You might want to have that looked into."

Ivy promptly hung up the phone. She wasn't sure why she hadn't done so immediately other than she like upsetting him. So she was frequently goaded into these confrontations that, more often than not, went his way. She blamed Harley for that mostly. If she could just get through to her that would surely wipe that ridiculous smile off his face.

The phone, not surprisingly, started to ring again. Ivy had already decided to ignore it, happily listening to its repeated ringing. She knew Joker well enough to know what was going on at his end of the line: He was getting angry. Angry that she wouldn't play along. Angry that she had the power. Besides, he would quickly tire of this activity and give up. She returned to her work with a smug grin while the phone continued to sound Joker's stubbornness, until Harley called from the other room, "Red, you need me to get that?"

"No!" Ivy shouted back, quickly picking up the receiver.

"You hung up on me," Joker tried to sound wounded. "That's horribly rude."

"Get used to it," she promised before hanging up again. And so a pattern started where he'd call and she'd just as swiftly hang up. Ring. Click. Ring. Click. Ring. Click.

Ivy knew how to be patient when she had to be, so she calmly went about this for six rings. A dozen. Why wasn't he bored of this yet? Fifteen. "Red, what's going on back there?" Harley shouted down the hall.

Ivy sighed and put the receiver to her ear again only to hear Joker cackling madly. "I can keep this up as long as it's funny, Pam, and it stands to be funny for a long while. One has to wonder why you haven't just taken the phone off the hook. Expecting a call?"

"Unfortunately," Ivy admitted. "But I'm still not letting you talk to Harley so all of this is pointless."

"I wonder what Harley would do if she discovered that I had gone out of my way to call her and you refused to give her the phone," he mused aloud. "I think that might make her a touch perturbed. Has she ever gotten mad at you? I mean, really pissed? Ever wonder what that would bring? I have and it's funny, let me tell you. Harley can hold onto a grudge. She's a woman after all. Yes, she can be as unforgiving as steel…to anyone but me. That's got to tick you off."

"Are you honestly suggesting that Harley wouldn't forgive me for protecting her from you when she's willing to wave off your multiple attempts on her life?" she laughed.

"…You think it would go down differently?" he asked seriously.

There was a long pause before Ivy shouted down the hall, "Harley! It's for you!"

"Good call," Joker congratulated her.

Ivy watched Harley's reaction after taking the phone in disgust. The wide eyes of pleasant surprise. The school girl giggle while she twirled the end of one of her pigtails between her fingers. (She shuddered to think of what he must be saying on the other end.) No sooner than she had hung up did she give a quick apology and a 'see you soon' as she headed out the door.

In that moment, Ivy truly resented Harley for the forgiveness she never would have received.

Harley skipped along merrily. She had a list of errands to run, a time and place to meet her Puddin', and all was right with the world.

After having completed her tasks, she entered the alley leading to the safehouse as instructed, expecting to be given entrance quickly. She excitedly waited for the hatch in the floor to open, but it was taking its slow time doing so. She reminded herself that she wasn't always the most patient of people, especially when a chance to see Mistah J was involved, so waited more…Nothing. She crouched down and knocked on the floor where she thought the door was. Still nothing. She took to jumping up and down on the same place in frustration and finally the floor gave away underneath her midjump, causing her to tumble awkwardly down the slide below. "Oof!" she grunted when landing at the bottom.

"WHAT?" Joker barked at her instantly.

Why was he so angry? She'd done precisely as he instructed. "…Y-you…you called me…" she stuttered in bewilderment.

"NO! NO, NO, NO! No talking!" he ordered, seeing that her mouth seemed about ready to offer an explanation he didn't want to hear. "You can't even begin to imagine how busy I am right now," he continued, walking away from her. She followed behind even though she didn't think he wanted her to…despite the fact that he was still talking. "Do you want to know how busy I am?"

She opened her mouth to reply.

"I'm so busy, I don't have time to smack you silly right now," he answered before she had a chance to speak. "Here I am, trying to concentrate, which is particularly difficult when you keep setting off the alarms in here over and over and over again."

He had a bunch of his 'toys' strewn about the floor. He sat down among them and started picking through. He held one after the other and was seemingly dissatisfied with them all. He took particular pause upon picking up a crowbar. "Do you know how old hat this is?" he asked, waving the instrument at her.

She opened her mouth again.

"It's collecting social security. That's how old," he cut her off once more, tossing the weapon to the side with disgust. He quickly became oblivious to her presence, focusing on the task at hand.

Harley couldn't figure out what was making him so anxious. Why, the only time she could think of that she'd seen him like this was if one of the Bat-squad was involved. That realization sent her directly to check the door at the end of the hall. It was wide open. He had one of them. He had one of them in here! How terribly exciting! Which one, she wondered, was unlucky enough to find themselves in such a predicament?

She glanced back over at Mr. J. He was quite wrapped up in what he was doing. Various metal tools were being tossed behind him, making clanking noises if they hit a hard surface.

Feeling that he was safely distracted at the moment, Harley cautiously edged herself down the hall. She wasn't going to be long. Just a quick dash down and a quick dash back up. Just long enough to see who it was; that's all.

When she reached the stairs, she rushed down them eagerly. In the center of the room was a man tied to a chair. He was unconscious and his head hung down to his chest. The curious thing was…Harley didn't recognize him. Not a bit. He wore a simple domino mask over his face, which indicated he wasn't your average Joe, but other than that she couldn't figure out why Mistah J was acting with such anticipation. She puzzled over this for a moment before shrugging and turning back toward the stairs. What a disappointment.

As her foot touched the first step, she heard the body behind her start to stir. She stopped and turned to face the man as he slowly lifted his head. His eyes fluttered for a moment and she could see him trying to focus on her. When he did, his eyes opened wide and a smiling gape crossed his face as though she were the most remarkably hilarious thing he'd ever seen.

"Oh my god!" he laughed. "Now I've seen everything! What's your name? You have to tell me your name."

She didn't like his tone at all. It came across as very insulting. She quickly decided whatever Mistah J had in store for him he certainly had coming. "I'm Harley Quinn!" she replied haughtily, trying to give the name all the respect it deserved.

"Of course you are," he laughed again. "That's just perfect." He seemed to find her very existence amusing.

"How could you possibly not know me? I'm playing with the big boys, baby! Whatcha been doin'? Livin' under a rock?" she insulted back.

"…Does underground count?" he asked simply, after a moment's consideration.

Harley looked at him quizzically. "Just who are you anyway?"

"You mean…he never told you?" he asked in shocked. "HA! Shows where you rank! Long story short: Your boss killed me and it looks as though he's going to try and do it again."

Harley smiled lightly. The guy had unnerved her at first, but it turned out he was just a fruitcake. This she knew how to deal with. "That's odd," she replied nonchalantly. "When Mistah J kills someone, it tends to stick."

"You haven't been playing this game very long, now have you, cupcake?" he threw back just as casually.

She scowled at him. This guy could possibly be one of the most infuriating people she'd ever met. He was about to meet a horrible death; he had to know that. And yet, nothing about him seemed scared or dismayed. With such cockiness you'd think he'd had some means of escaping, but he didn't seem to even be trying. On top of all that, he wasn't making a lick of sense.

"People come back from the dead everyday. Why, I can easily name a dozen right off the top of my head," he continued. "Various reasons have returned each of them back to the land of the living, of course. For me, I'd like to think it was sheer stubbornness."

What happened next was so quick Harley didn't even get a chance to yelp. She didn't know how he did it, but he'd escaped his bonds. She had kept an eye on him; he'd barely moved throughout their conversation, but he'd managed it somehow and was on top of her in a split second. Harley didn't know if he was crazy or the world was as crazy as he suggested. All she knew was what was in the man's eyes and it terrified her. He had nothing to live for. He had nothing to die for. And he had no problems with the prospect of killing her. That much she was sure of. What was his purpose? Why did he exist? Stubbornness, she thought.

"What do you think will bring you back around?" he asked, placing more pressure on her neck with his foot. She wheezed back in response. "Yeah, maybe," he considered. "But, personally, I just don't think you have the staying power."

"I must say, you play a lot rougher than I remember," a voice came from the stairway. The man craned his neck around to find the Joker standing there large as life, swinging a crowbar around like a cane. "But I think that'll just make things all the more fun," he finished.

Harley felt some of the pressure leave her neck, but didn't dare move.

"I thought this bit was getting old," Joker went on, referencing his weapon of choice. "But then I realized it actually makes for a great running gag!"

"It was certainly fun when I cracked one over your head," the man smirked.

Joker scowled, having not considered that, and decided he needed to get in a dig to even things out. "What is it we're supposed to be calling you nowadays? That Red Hood bit was ridiculous and you obviously can't go back to your original title, it being taken and all. And we can't possibly call you Ja…Ja…," he tried to get the name out as though it was a disgusting thing stuck in the back of his throat. "Jaaason," he finally managed with a grimace. "It's so common. Completely unworthy of the game. If you lack the imagination to come up with something appropriate, I'll just have to do it for you. Something like…'Deadweight'. 'Deadair'? 'Dead-why doesn't anyone give a shit about me'? …No, that's too long to say."

"You're not going to have worry about what to call me much longer," Jason promised as he lunged at his tormentor. Joker scrambled up the stairs in an effort to keep the high ground.

Harley was left alone in the stark room. She heard various noises corresponding with a struggle upstairs. It didn't even occur to her to join in. She could sense it wasn't a fight she was invited to. The sound of blunt objects hitting the floor, the crash of breaking glass, and the voices of two men that loathed one another drifted down the stairs as Harley crawled into a corner of the room.

She hugged her knees to her chest and started to cry, even though she wasn't sure why at first. For some reason she felt small. Insignificant. It was something the man had said or some way he had regarded her. Jason. She had a name now, but it didn't make her feel any better. It dawned on her that she referred to herself as being 'in the big leagues' but she didn't feel that way at the moment. There was so much history, so much she wasn't a part of. She cried harder as she realized what was bothering her: That perhaps she was a minor player in a game much too big for her.

END

End Notes: I have wanted to write Harley's meeting of Jason for some time. Wouldn't you know it, I was beat to it by DC, and they did a terrible job on top of it all. They gave it no oomph whatsoever. I do not feel that Harley is a minor character as suggested here. Harley's feelings refer more to a separation of the old and the new in DC (though she doesn't realize it). I also found it fun to make Jason seem a bit more maniacal. He was always the most off compared to his counterparts anyway. His death and feelings of abandonment has only compounded this. This makes sense to me as he's not only been abandoned by his birth family (just look what his mother did to him) but he doesn't feel that his adopted family came through for him either. Basically, he's beginning to lose it and time will tell what his ultimate fate will be.