It's okay, Harl. It's just for the weekends.

Just for the weekends. Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Come on Friday, go back Monday.

"Harley? You coming?"

Harley blinked away her thoughts, wishing she could blink away her uneasiness as well. She unbuckled her seat belt but didn't open the door. Amy smiled at her through the open window.

"You have to get out of the car, Harley."

She didn't want to get out of the car. She wanted to hide in the backseat until the guard drove back to the Asylum. The walls of the little one-story frame house looked as though they would tremble in a harsh wind; how would they stand up to a pipe bomb?

"Come on, Harley. Nobody outside the Asylum or the GCPD knows we're here. You'll be fine."

"The GCPD's full 'a dirty cops," Harley returned, a little harsher than she'd intended.

"True, but all of the ones who know have been instructed to keep a watch on the house. Nobody wants to see you out marauding any more than I want the Joker to drop in for dinner. You'll be fine." Amy opened the door and held it for her. "Come on. Let's go inside."

Harley tried to meet the guard's eyes in the rearview mirror, but he looked away. She was on her own--and there was no staying in the car. Using the overhead handgrip, she pulled herself to her feet and onto the concrete driveway. Amy closed the door and waved to the driver.

"Thanks, Bill."

"Sure." Harley could tell he wasn't any more enthusiastic about the arrangement than she was, but like her, he was bound to whatever decision the director made. She watched the car as it pulled out of the driveway and onto the quiet suburban road.

"Let's go inside and have a look around, shall we?"

Harley nodded mutely. Amy's voice was cheerful, the exaggerated kind people used when they wanted to distract someone or put them at ease. But she was stuck here until Monday, with nothing left to do but hope Amy could keep a secret.


The house was nice in a boring kind of way--a living room with khaki-colored sofas and pink and yellow flowers on dark wood tables. Harley caught herself thinking how nice a dash or two of purple would look among the carefully coordinated neutral tones before shuddering a little. She didn't want to see anything purple for a long, long time.

Amy gave her a brief tour, pointing out the kitchen, bathrooms and guest room where she would be staying. Peering into the closet, Harley saw several pairs of jeans and T-shirts, along with a few nicer blouses and a skirt. "Thought you'd like some variety in your life," Amy said with a smile, then hurried off to answer the doorbell.

Leaving the closet open, Harley crossed over to the window on the other side of the room. Amy had given her a lovely view of the small backyard, where new green grass had just begun to replace the brown stuff. A small tree was still bare, its naked branches reaching for the sky. The flowerpots and beds were still bare dirt, waiting for someone to realize spring had begun.

"Settling in okay?"

Harley jumped, then glanced back to see Amy framed in the doorway. "Yeah."

"All righty. Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay." She returned to gazing out the window, never once thinking who might have been at the door.


"I'm ho-ome!" Dick Grayson called above the satisfying slam of the large mahogany door. Bruce appeared at the top of the balcony.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine." Dick began to climb the stairs. "Looks like Harley made it out of the Asylum in one piece. Mrs. Nicholson said she'd just gotten there and was trying to get her settled in."

"Did she say anything else?"

Dick reached the top and paused, running his fingers through his dark hair. "Not really. I guess she was pretty upset when she heard they were moving her."

"Why?"

"Oh, I dunno. The way Mrs. Nicholson made it sound, Harley was just scared."

Bruce nodded. "That's good. It shows she can be turned off by the Joker after all."

"When are you going over there?"

"Tomorrow."

"You going as Batman?"

Bruce shook his head. "She's been scared enough."


Amy looked up from her magazine as the doorbell rang for the second time in two days. She stood, wondering if it was the nice boy from yesterday, come with the cookies he'd promised to bring. She couldn't hide her surprised when it turned out to be a much taller man holding the plate.

"Hello," he said, shifting the cookies to his left hand and offering his right. "Bruce Wayne."

"Amy Nicholson," she said, recognizing the name of the man who had paid for Harley's move. "But then, I guess you already knew that."

"Henry gave me your name when he told me about the move," he said with a smile. "Dick said he promised to come back with cookies, so I thought I'd make sure he kept his word."

"Where is he?" Amy asked, looking past him as she took the cookies.

"Home, watching TV. I just thought I'd spare him the interruption and drop by myself."

"Why don't you come in, Mr. Wayne....Darrell! We've got company!"

Bruce backed up a step. "No, I really can't stay. I--"

"No, no, come on in. You're here, so you might as well meet my husband, if I can find him....Darrell!"

Amy heard water being shut off, followed by a loud "What?"

"Never mind!" She turned back to Bruce. "Sorry. Saturdays get off to a slow start around here."

"I understand."

Amy was sure he did. His exploits had become a staple of Gotham's tabloids--and the backup topic of gossip at the Asylum. Nothing else to talk about? Well, Bruce Wayne met another girl the other night....

But Amy didn't dare mention that. Commenting on a wealthy benefactor's less-than-honorable social life wasn't only a poor business model, it was just plain stupid. "I didn't know you lived so close."

"Neither was I, until I checked the map in the phone book. Turns out we're just a mile or so apart."

"Interesting." She shifted the cookies to her other hand. "Well, thanks for stopping by."

"No problem. I just--"

He stopped abruptly, staring at something behind her. Amy glanced back and saw Harley peeking around the corner, blue eyes wide. "Oh, hey there, Harley."

"Who's that?"

"Hm? Oh, this is Bruce Wayne, owner of Wayne Enterprises. His donations have helped keep Arkham Asylum afloat these past couple years."

"Speaking of which, I should probably get going. I left some weekend paperwork behind when I came here, so...."

"All right. Thanks for stopping by." She closed the door behind him, then leaned against it. Harley came closer.

"He knew I was here?"

"He's one of the Asylum's biggest benefactors. I guess Henry thought he'd like to know." Straightening, she carried the plate into the kitchen and removed the foil. "He brought cookies. Want one?"

For the first time in days, Harley brightened. "I love sugar cookies!"

Amy smiled. "Help yourself, then." She took a cookie from the plate, making a mental note to talk to Henry about Bruce Wayne come Monday morning.