Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay in-between updates! I was in a car accident several weeks ago and being in pain and writing humor do NOT mix! Finally feeling better, so back at it. And don't worry, I have the rest of the story planned out in my head, so it's coming - just need to get it out.

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I flipped the lights on in the kitchen, pulled out a mixin' bowl, and started measurin' out the pancake mix and water. I heard Batsy come in after me but I didn't turn around because I wanted him to start talkin' more. I could feel his eyes drillin' into my back, though, as I stirred. When he finally talked, he sounded confused and suspicious.

"What are you doing?" he growled out. I kept stirrin' the batter to get the lumps out.

"Makin' pancakes," I said. "You need to eat. Plus, I could use a bite myself. When's the last time you ate somethin', Batsy?" He let out a real irritated sigh, but he pulled a stool out and sat down.

"You're using a mix?" he asked real snidely. This time, I did turn around, with my hand on my hip.

"You better get used to eatin' mixes, Batsy, 'cause you're gonna have to be cookin' for yourself now that Mistah Alfred's gone." He got sulky.

"I could hire a chef," he grumped back at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, we both know you ain't hirin' nobody to live here in this big house with you, Batsy. You don't like lettin' people in." I turned back around to heat the fryin' pan up. "I bet Mistah J would be happy to come cook for you sometimes, though. He's a real good cook, he makes his pancakes from scratch but I use the mix 'cause I don't like all the extra work." Batsy sounded amused.

"So the Joker's a gourmand? Well, he always did take to chemistry…" Then he paused. "Where did you get pancake mix from?" I shook my head, groanin' to myself.

"Batsy, there's this thing called a grocery store that non-billionaires go to shop at when they need food ingredients. Sheesh, you're gonna have to learn everythin', aren't ya?" Batsy got all huffy with me.

"I know what a grocery store is," he said, foldin' his arms across his chest. "But Alfred would never have had pancake mix in the mansion. Where'd it come from?" I rolled my eyes again, he was bein' so slow to catch on for someone who was supposed to be a great detective, but probably it was because he was still drunk.

"I got it from the grocery store!" I told him, a little louder to wake his brain up. "I brought groceries with me 'cause I knew you wouldn't have nothin' in the house."

"Oh." Batsy sounded surprised and maybe a little impressed too that I thought of that. I shook my pancake spoon at him.

"I ain't dumb, ya know." He raised an eyebrow at me and wiped the batter off his face with a dish towel from the counter.

"I never said you were dumb, Harley," he said quietly.

"Well, you thought it though," I said as I started droppin' batter onto the pan. "Not even a real psychologist… datin' an abuser… blah blah blah!" I glanced over at him. He looked kinda ashamed but he was still lookin' at me all sad, too, like he pitied me. He met my eyes and sighed.

"I just don't understand you, Harley," he said, finally. "You are such a brilliant woman, and you had an amazing career ahead of you, and you threw it all away to be with that fiend." I laughed.

"Who says I threw my career away? Batsy, please, I worked very hard to become a psychologist. It's my passion to help criminals improve their lives!" I pulled my card out of my bra and handed it to him. "I'm in private practice now."

He stared at my card, speechless. It is a pretty spectacular business card, if I do say so myself. I designed it with a purple foil background to be all glitzy and catch the light, and then there's a nice sketch of my face all done up in my white and black makeup and jester's cap that I wear when I'm out with Mistah J. The tagline says Dr. Harleen Quinzell – I'll turn your frown upside down!

Batsy swallowed. He started to say somethin' but he was havin' trouble gettin' it out.

"You're… in private… practice?" is all he finally said.

"Yep!" I said back as I flipped the first pancake over and added some chocolate chips. "My phone number's on the back. I have a full list of clients but I took off a week to help you get back on your feet and then I'll make room for your regular appointments, don't worry. I won't abandon you." Batsy's eyes were lookin' all googly and glassy at me. I poured a glass of water for him and patted his hand.

"Drink this up, Batsy, you're lookin' a little pale. You're probably real dehydrated from all that alcohol in your system. I got some coffee brewin', but that's just 'cause it goes nice with pancakes. It ain't gonna sober you up, you know? That's a myth." He rubbed his head but he did take the glass and start gulpin' the water down.

"Harley… "

"Yeah, Batsy?" I squirted some whipped cream to make the clown hair and set his pancake down in front of him. "Dinner is served! Pancakes à la Mistah J!" He stared down at the smilin' chocolate chip clown face smilin' back up at him and suddenly he started gigglin'. I clapped my hands and jumped up and down! It was so good to see him smilin' and it gives me such a warm feelin' in my heart when I can see that I've really helped a patient.

"Harley…" he giggled. "Harley Quinn…"

"Yeah, Batsy?" He wiped some giggle tears from his eyes and picked up his fork.

"Thank you for the pancakes," is all he said, but I knew he meant a whole lot more.

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More chapters coming! Also, please check out my other Harleen Quinzell stories which are all set in the same AU.