"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce Wayne turned around with a smile, a smile which he struggled to keep when he recognized who had just caught his attention. It was the woman he had been keeping an eye on as Batman for some weeks now. He had been watching over her for a few hours each day, and every hour his admiration for her grew. She was dedicating herself to her rehabilitation, heart and soul. There was never a hint of relapse, never a moment where he doubted the sincerity of her resolve. And he had never seen her looking as she did now.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel was wearing a long red dress, tight around the body until the skirt, which flared out in a mermaid style. The black straps of the dress hung off her shoulders, and she wore a single diamond necklace against her pale flesh. Her blonde hair cascaded in long, curled waves down her back. She looked positively gorgeous.

She smiled at him. "You don't remember me. Why should you? Last time we met, I was holding a gun to your girlfriend's head."

Bruce knew he had to play along, so he adopted a puzzled look. "I'm sorry?"

"I was the clown girl at the Joker's Christmas heist," she explained. "Name was Harley Quinn. Now it's Dr. Harleen Quinzel," she said, holding out her hand.

Bruce took it and kissed it. "Dr. Quinzel. I think this costume suits you much more than a clown one."

Harley beamed, giggling. "You're as charming as everyone says," she replied. "And please, call me Harley, everyone does. This is a nice party."

"It's a civilized party," agreed Bruce. "Not really to my taste."

"You prefer the pool party type?" asked Harley, grinning. "Beers and women in bikinis?"

"If I'm honest with you, Harley, I've never been more stunned by a woman in a bikini than I was by you just now," replied Bruce. "You are an incredibly attractive young woman."

Harley smiled. "You're too kind, Mr. Wayne."

"Oh, Bruce, please," he said. "Are you here on your own, Harley?"

She nodded. "One of my colleagues at the hospital is in charge of the charity drive tonight. She invited me to come, but she's been busy with a lot of admin stuff. I've mostly been on my own."

"That's a shame," said Bruce. "I'm sorry you've wasted your evening so far, but if you'll let me, I'll make sure you're not on your own again tonight."

Harley giggled again. "I'm incredibly flattered, Bruce."

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"Glass of red wine, please," she said, nodding.

"Don't go anywhere," said Bruce, smiling as he left her. He went over to the buffet, where Alfred was serving. "12 o'clock," muttered Bruce.

"You need your evening wear ready for midnight, sir?" asked Alfred, puzzled.

"No, look, 12 o'clock," said Bruce, nodding. "It's Quinn."

Alfred stared at the woman. "Harley Quinn?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"What on earth is she doing here?"

"She's rehabilitated herself. Here with a friend from the hospital she works at. Where's Dick?"

"I'll fetch him for you. Pardon me, sir, but when you say rehabilitated herself, you do mean she's pretended to rehabilitate herself, don't you?"

"No. I mean she genuinely has rehabilitated herself."

Alfred's face fell. "I find that hard to believe, sir."

"Why?" asked Bruce, a little angrily. Alfred was naturally cynical – he was English. But Dick had been too, and he didn't have that excuse.

"You're seriously asking me to believe that Harley Quinn has rehabilitated herself?" repeated Alfred. "She's madly in love with the Joker."

"She was. People can change," retorted Bruce.

"Harley Quinn can't, sir," insisted Alfred. "I don't believe it for a second."

"I didn't ask you to believe it. I asked you to fetch Dick," retorted Bruce, with more anger than he had intended. Alfred was stunned, but nodded.

"Very good, sir," he murmured.

Bruce picked up two glasses and returned to Harley. "Thank you, Bruce," she said, taking it from him. "What should we drink to?"

"Changes," replied Bruce, raising his glass. "Both present and future."

Harley grinned. "To changes," she said, clinking her glass against his and drinking.

"Ah, Dick, there you are," said Bruce, noticing Dick Grayson approaching them from across the room. "Dick, this is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Harley, this is Dick Grayson, my ward."

"Pleasure," said Dick, extending his hand. Bruce could tell he was both annoyed and confused, but he did a fairly good job hiding it.

"Nice to meet you," said Harley, smiling at him. "Meeting your family already, Bruce, should I be worried?" she laughed, turning to him and beaming.

Bruce shrugged. "It's only natural that the people who spend a lotta time here get used to the people I'm hoping will spend a lotta time here," he replied with a grin. "In that spirit, this is my butler, Alfred. Alfred, Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

"An honor, madam," replied Alfred, bowing stiffly. "Your name seems vaguely familiar. Have you been in Gotham long?"

"Yeah, you could say that!" laughed Harley. "I used to be a notorious criminal here!"

"Harley…" began Bruce.

"I'm not ashamed of my past, Bruce," interrupted Harley. "I don't care who knows it. I used to be Harley Quinn, Alfred, the Joker's sidekick," continued Harley, smiling at him. "But I've served my time and rehabilitated myself and I'm just trying to live a normal, productive life now."

"Indeed?" said Alfred, raising an eyebrow. "In my experience there is no such thing as a normal life. Even the seemingly most normal of us have something to hide."

"Aw, c'mon, Alfred, you've obviously worked for Bruce a long time!" laughed Harley. "I don't think he's got anything to hide. Although I guess nobody is that charming without good reason," she added, grinning at him.

"You'll find I'm full of surprises, Harley," replied Bruce, smiling at her.

"Yeah? I like a guy who can surprise me," murmured Harley.

"Harley, there you are!" exclaimed a young woman, running over to her. "Something's come up at the hospital – I need to get back. You coming?"

Harley nodded, putting down the glass. "Sorry, Bruce, that's my ride…"

"If you stay, I can have Alfred take you back whenever you need," said Bruce, quickly.

Harley beamed at him. "Thanks for the thought. But always leave them wanting more, that's my motto. I hope to see you again soon, Bruce. Goodnight."

She left, with Bruce staring after her. "Were you just flirting with Harley Quinn?" murmured Dick.

"I just wanted to…"

"You were just flirting with Harley Quinn," interrupted Dick. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Bruce?"

"I'm keeping an eye on her," retorted Bruce. "To make sure she's ok, to make sure she really has turned over a new leaf. I know you two don't want to give her a chance, but I do."

"Master Wayne, this is a dangerous game you're playing," murmured Alfred. "If Miss Quinn discovers your other occupation…"

"She won't," interrupted Bruce. "I'm not an amateur at this. I just want to protect her. She's a vulnerable young woman trying to start a new life on her own. She been through a lot of pain, and I just want to make sure she won't have to endure any more than necessary."

"You ever had a cat, Bruce?" snapped Dick.

"What has that got to do with anything?" demanded Bruce. "She's not Selina."

"She's the same kinda woman," said Dick. "Cats look really cute and fluffy and innocent, and they keep purring when you stroke their bellies, until suddenly and without warning they just lash out and scratch your hand. I don't want this little kitten taking you in and scratching you."

"I'm not afraid of cats, Dick," retorted Bruce. "Or clown's former sidekicks. I've been watching her, and I've seen nothing to convince me that she's being anything other than sincere."

"Yeah? Don't you think that's a little funny? How many times have people tried and failed to rehabilitate Quinn, and now suddenly it works without a hitch? It's a little too perfect, don't you think?"

"You're saying I should be hoping she fails?" demanded Bruce.

"I'm saying you need to be careful," retorted Dick. "I know your heart's in the right place, Bruce, but I don't want you getting hurt, physically or emotionally, from getting too attached to Harley Quinn."

"Dick, for the last time, I'm not romantically interested in her!" snapped Bruce.

"Coulda fooled me," muttered Dick.

"I concur with Dick," said Alfred. "You must be careful, sir. Even if this is all pretense, it's dangerous letting Miss Quinn get close to you. How do you know she isn't being set-up for you by the Joker?"

"Why would the Joker set-up Bruce Wayne?" asked Bruce. "And why is it so hard for you both to believe that people can change?"

Dick and Alfred shared a look. "You have only to look in a mirror to answer that question, sir," said Alfred, gently.

Bruce looked at him steadily and then turned and left the room without a word. He went down the hall to the study, where the picture of his parents hung over the fireplace. He stared at it, remembering all that he could never forget, the night they were taken from him, and he was left alone. He seemed cursed to be alone sometimes, but he couldn't honestly say whether it was through fate or choice. He wasn't a man who trusted people easily, but something about Harley's open, honest personality made him want to trust her, made him want to believe that she had changed. It gave him hope more than anything else. If something that had been so damaged by the criminals of this city could find happiness, then maybe…

He shook his head. He couldn't think like that. The Joker had hurt both of them very deeply, it was true, and they were probably the two people who knew him best in the world, but that didn't mean they had anything else in common. Besides, Harley could never know that Bruce Wayne was Batman. There was always the danger of her relapsing and telling the Joker. Unless he made sure she couldn't relapse. Unless he was there for her every step of the way, when she needed someone to keep her steady, to look after her, to take care of her…

It was a protective urge, that was all. And maybe a sense of commonality, and shared history. But that was it.

He nodded firmly and left the room. But as he returned to the party he found himself admitting, however much he wanted to deny it, that she had looked beautiful in that dress tonight.