Thanks to everyone who reviewed, sorry for the wait :).
The Laughing Clown
01.
On the other side there's a sort of grimy gray light that envelopes the room in something similar to a thick sea of smog that appears in the very heart of Gotham; unforgiving and suffocating. Bruce Wayne stands amidst it, leaning back casually against his own computer system in the very heart of the Wayne towers basement. Unconsciously he reaches for the cowl sitting faithfully beside him, lifting it and slipping it over his head just as he has done so many times before. He's a little apprehensive; a little unsure if this will work. He is aware that he has put his trust into the hands of someone claiming to be himself and that in itself is more than a little unethical. A little not-so-sane but Bruce is a man and if anything goes wrong, well, he will own up and take responsibility and save the say just as he always does.
Perhaps he's hoping just a little it might go a little wrong. Deep down, however unwilling he is to admit it both to himself and Alfred, he's a little frustrated with his lack of activity as of late. He has to work in even darker shadows now and be a little less frequent. He feels like he owes something to people like Harvey Dent and by taking the fall, by only showing every so often, he thinks he is giving them what they deserve back. Alfred often comments that his logic is sometimes almost as bizarre as the Joker's.
As Bruce fastens the cowl on properly, Batman immediately takes his place and he inches away from his leaning spot and his back straightens just a little. He gives a quiet cough to clear his throat and flexes his hands into fists before straitening them out again. The light begins to clear and he can see the faintest outline of a petite looking figure and as it clears even more he is relieved to see it is in fact a blond woman, just as the other him (beneath the mask, Bruce tries very hard to ignore how utterly crazy that actually sounds) informed him. Carefully, he steps forward as the light fades away completely and he can really look at the blond woman blinking and looking around her in wonder. She's attractive, the playboy in him observes, is somewhat petite and he can tell by the grin that appears on her face when she sees him that she probably has a sense of humor. One that probably will not appeal to him at all. Bruce Wayne wonders how this woman ever ended up with the likes of the Joker, while Batman immediately is on his guard because this is the former girlfriend of the Joker.
As far Harley, well she is just dying to let out a girly sort of giggle at this Batman. He's all armor and muscle and no tights. His mouth is set in such a thin line that Harley can tell right away whoever this Batman is behind the mask is the same man behind her own Batman. But there are no tights and it's almost just too much for her take. "What kind of Batman are you with no tights?" she blurts out without any real thought.
That remark brings him to a sudden stand still. "Tights?" he chokes out, confused.
Harley grins a toothy grin and lets go of her case, walking over to him, close enough to poke at his thigh with her index finger. "My Batman wears tights."
For the briefest second he's unsure how to proceed, before he's speaking in growl-tongue. "I'm not your Batman."
Scrunching up her nose, Harley takes a step back. "Well I can see that. You're so… Serious. At least my Batman can take a joke once in a while."
There's a flash to a painted white face when she says that and he is suddenly remembering why the girl is here in the first place. "I don't have time for jokes," he states, "we have business to discuss, Harleen."
"Harley." She corrects.
Batman decides not to argue. "Harley," he corrects himself and continues when she beams at him, "I've already assembled you're essentials; birth certificate, passport, driving license and accommodation. Anything else you need, like dental care or medical help, will be covered by Wayne Enterprises."
"Wayne? As in… Bruce Wayne?"
He just smirks. "He owes me a few favours." It's a vague explanation but Harley goes for it and he's grateful; he continues speaking again, explaining a few things about the life he's fabricated for her, until he eventually arrives at the topic of her job. "Arkham have been informed briefly of yourself. They were happy enough with your real grades from college, but in order to secure as the Joker's official doctor…" he trails off.
"You had to make up some wacko hair brained story?" Harley offers.
Batman resists a chuckle. "Right."
Harley purses her lips together in thought for a moment, before folding her arms, looking at him seriously. "And what about him? You got any info on him so as I can… Prepare myself?"
"In your apartment. Everything that can possibly prepare or inform you, it's there waiting on you."
"So… I guess that's it then." She murmurs.
"You start work on Monday; that's three days from now. In that time I suggest you get to know your neighborhood and get to know this Gotham."
Harley offers a weak smile. "Guess I better head to my new humble abode then." She squeaks, heading back to her case and dragging it over. "Mind giving a girl a ride home?"
Batman says nothing, just heads towards his Tumbler and opens it up. "Get in."
She's left alone in her apartment with her clothes and a bankcard as Batman leaves with the fleeting words; "Buy yourself something for work." Harley thinks she'd rather buy a car to get to work with; maybe some paint because the apartment is boring. Letting out an over dramatic sigh, she falls onto the couch and casts a glance around. The place is pretty spacious and she thinks Batman's probably got Bruce Wayne to pay for this as well. Her eyes fall onto the bank card in her hand and she shakes her head; she makes a point not to let herself owe Batman any favours if this is what poor Bruce has had to do.
With a discontented sigh, Harley twists around on the couch to look into the kitchen, eyeing the folders laying organized on the breakfast bar. With a glance at the clock, she decides she'll leave the Joker history listen until tomorrow and jumps from the couch, wandering out of her living room to the hall, into her bedroom.
It's dark outside and she's mostly tired from everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours. She doesn't care about the size of her room or her bed, instead thankful that there is a bed and she falls onto and is asleep within minutes, clothes still on, ontop of the covers.
When she awakes the next morning, the sun is blazing in through the window and for a second she has no idea where is she is – that is until the memories hit her full force like one of the Joker's fists and she wishes she'd slept a little longer. "Rise 'n shine Harley." She croaks to herself, rolling out of bed and stumbling into the hall and into the living room. "Toothbrush," she mumbles to herself, grabbing her suitcase and ripping it open, throwing various assortments of clothes around until she finds her red toothbrush. With a tired and victorious grin she makes the bathroom her destination (she's thankful there aren't too many rooms in this place).
It takes her a little longer than usual to get ready; she decides to shower and instead of drying her hair, she puts it into tight pigtails. She spends a while going through her clothes, looking for something respectable to wear (she has to remind herself that what is respectable to her is not, for example, particularly respectable to society). In the end, she settles for an overly large tee-shirt and a pair of cropped jeans, pulling on a pair of flat shoes quickly. She looks like a teenager, she realizes with a bemused smile. "Gotta change that to play the doctor role again." She says out loud to herself, picking up the bankcard Batman left her and her apartment keys. With a second thought, she grabs the note pinned to her fridge with the pin number on it, and a pen (so she can note down where the hell she's staying at) and rushes out of the apartment, slamming the door loudly and giving a giggle at the prospect of waking anyone up.
She's fortunate enough to live near enough clothing stores to provide her with new business like outfits. She feels a little like she's playing dress up as she pays for the various pencil straight skirts and high waisted trousers paired with a few expensive blouses and cardigans. She has a role to play as Doctor Quinzel in two days; bright young Doctor Quinzel with a bright smile and a calculating mind. It feels like a whole other life that never belonged to her when she tries to remember when those days where a reality.
With a thoughtful glance at the other stores around her she decides she's spent enough time shopping; after all she has things to read up on and has to figure out how she's getting to Arkham on Monday morning. She sort of knows where she is now; she remembers terrorizing a few people on this neighborhood back on her own Earth, back when she and 'that person' were still together. With a forlorn little sigh she turns back into the street that her apartment block is on, and almost walks by straight towards it. A
Almost. Sitting outside it, is a brand new car. Leaning against that car is someone Harley has only ever met a few times and on those times she'd been robbing him or robbing his friends.
"Ms. Quinzel." Bruce greets, pushing off of the car in a very casual way, smiling a charming smile at Harley.
"Bruce Wayne." She states bluntly, gaping. A voice in her snaps at her not to say anything stupid; she has to be Harleen right now. "I don't mean to be rude… But why…?" she asks, looking at him with a questioning look, making sure not to gape this time, instead giving him a flash of a professional smile.
Bruce casually gestures towards the car. "My friend Batman paid me a visit last night and mentioned you had no way of getting to Arkham. Of course, how can Gotham hope for a brighter future when our new lady of hope can't even get to work?"
Harley's heard the stories of her own Bruce Wayne; this one is no different. She doesn't bother to object about the car – a free car is a free car after all. However, she feels her ego growing slightly at being labeled as 'Lady Of Hope'. "Thanks, Mr. Wayne. I appreciate it", she smiles thankfully. "Strange that you're here, I was actually just thinking about that," she glances at her apartment for a second, "I'd invite you up, but I only arrived yesterday and well, you know how things are."
Nodding in understanding, Bruce smiles at her. "Maybe another time," he says, pulling out his cell phone, "if you need anything else, don't hesitate to get in contact. I'm sure Batman will have left a number."
"That's very kind of you Mr. Wayne, although, it makes you wonder what you had Batman do to owe him this kind of favour."
Bruce smirks. "You really have no idea." He chuckles, throwing the car keys at her and winking as a limo pulls up. "Well, I'll be seeing you. Like I said, get in contact if you need anything."
Harley smirks. "Oh, don't worry. I will. Goodbye Mr. Wayne." Bruce waves goodbye and she waits until his limo is out of sight before heading towards her apartment. The criminal in her is desperate to take advantage of the situation but the rational part knows she can't do anything drastic here, especially in such foreign territory. "Gotta lay low." She reminds herself, pushing open the door to her apartment with her hip, then kicking the door closed, dumping all of her bags on the floor. "Ok Harley," she says to herself, walking purposefully into the kitchen and grabbing all the information on the Joker, "gotta do your homework."