1I was still on edge when Harley decided to take me shopping three days later for a Halloween costume. And, okay, looking back, how pathetic was I to believe her? But Halloween was the ultimate candy flow and if you hit up the right places, which I had marked on my map of the city and gone to every year since I was five. What can I say, I had.. Have.. A sweet tooth.

Harley was an exceptionally better driver than my father so I felt no unease as we drove, because the common crowd didn't recognize Harleen Quinzel, ex-student at Arkham Asylum.

"Harley... is it much farther?" I asked, watching the bay as we drove by.

"No, just a few more minutes," thank God Harley was calm and therefore using a voice ten octaves lower than usual. Of course, when we got home and she spotted dad she would leap into her upper range in an instant.

I leaned back and closed my eyes for a moment before Harley spoke again, in a tone I knew to be hesitant and a little unsure, one she usually used on dad when he got royally pissed.

"Um, Miranda, what would be so bad about coming out as Mistah J's kid?"

My eyes shot open and she kept her baby blues directly on the road, not wavering.

"First, he's one of, if not the, most wanted villain in all of Gotham. The police would leapt to the conclusion I had the same wish for chaos he does, and then I would be wanted by the authorities. And how would Batman react? I don't know if he's all good or not, but we don't know how he would act towards his arch-enemies child! And then there's school. I have a four point GPA! I can't throw that away because all of a sudden I can't attend classes without being destroyed by my classmates. I mean, maybe my friends would understand, but they're always worried I have a father that beats me or something and that's why I never invite anyone over!"

Harley gasped. "Mistah J's never laid hand on you? Who are these little punks?" she growled.

I sighed. "They don't know who dad is, and it's a perfectly natural reaction to worry about a friend. Calm down, you're going over seventy."

She paused and then slowed the car to the legal speed and pouted lightly. "Mistah J'd never hurt you. He makes sure you're always taken care of, even when we're in Arkham."

"I know that Harley, and you know that. However, no one would ever believe that."

Hell, I didn't know whether to believe he'd /never/ hurt me. I mean, he went into pretty big rages.

Harley must have seen the doubt in my face because she spoke again, softer this time, "Mistah J would never do something he didn't think was best for you, you know."

I frowned lightly. "Harley, I don't know what to think. Or what he thinks for that matter. I mean... oh I don't know," I trailed off, ending the conversation as we pulled into the parking lot of a costume shop.

Harley beamed as she shut off the engine. "Come on, kid, we've got some shopping to do!"

She literally pulled me along, into the shop, and straight for the main costumes, rummaging through them eagerly.

By the end of the hour I vetoes every costume she'd tried to show me, from a big foam saltshaker suit, to a gorilla costume, to a medieval princess with far to much spandex involved.

And then I saw it. I pulled the bag off the rack and examined the costume in all it's pinstriped glory. It was fantastic. I read the tag. 'Henchwoman.' Dad would get a kick out of that.

"Harley... I'm gonna try this on." I said a bit absently as I headed for the dressing rooms.

"Huh? Oh, okay, I'll keep looking."

I slid out of my jeans and pulled the pants up, fastening them. They rode a little high waisted, an old style that I didn't mind. I then slipped the black shirt on, and frowned a little bit at how tight it was about the bust, but figured I could use my own undershirt. When I slid the light coat over my shoulder and turned to look in the mirror, I saw the perfect old fashioned crime boss grinning back at me in perfectly tailored size fourteen slacks and a jacket that buttoned below and vaguely accentuated the bust.

I was in love.

I had to have it.

Dad might hate it.

That thought made me falter, until I recalled just how tight Harley's outfit was. I mean... he couldn't yell at me if mine showed off my boobs a little, right? Well, he could. But the suit gave me too good of an hourglass figure to care. I had never loved my hips more.

I exited the dressing room and heard a squeal. Wincing, I took that as Harley's approval before she even half tackled me with a hug.

"Oh kid you look great! Talk about a set of curves, you're gonna drive the guys insane!" She grinned and I had to grin back at her enthusiasm. "And wait 'til you see what I found to go with! Close your eyes!" she demanded, and I did as told.

She place something on my head and then forced something in my hand and when I opened my eyes to the mirror I was faced with the most wonderful, fantastic, amazing, glorious hat in the world: a pinstriped fedora. And in my hand was a kick ass walking cane ever, with the head of a snake making up the handle.

I threw my arms around Harley and squeezed. "Harley, I love this! Thank you so much!"

We payed for the costume with money my dad had given Harley for the occasion; I didn't question it's origin, I didn't want to know, what I didn't know didn't hurt me.

Did I mention I loved my new costume?

I held it in my lap on my way home and couldn't stop grinning. When Harley pulled into a drive thru for milkshakes the day couldn't have gotten any better.

But as we neared home I kept feeling more and more self-conscious. What would dad say about it being so fitted? Would he be pissed? Would he want me to take it back?

Harley must have noticed the apprehension on my face because she smiled. "Don't worry kid, he's gonna love it. I promise."

I could only hope she was right as we pulled into the warehouse.

--

A/N

Why the hell am I doing this to myself?

I have no idea.

But I guess we'll see how Joker feels about his daughter's bust being accentuated.

How fucking hilarious will that be?

And in case you can't tell... I love Harley. She's such a sweetie.. Just... totally in love with a homicidal maniac. Poor girl.

And I think dear old Batsy will come in soon. I know Alfred will - I adore Alfred.

So... tell me what you think! Any suggestions, criticism, anything is welcome!

((By the way... she's not a Mary-sue, I think, she's a realistic size fourteen, big hips, big bust, can hardly find anything that ever fits. A problem I've faced in real life many times - so wait a while before accusing me of Mary-suing please))