Sorry this chapter took so long, everyone. I kind of lost my plot bunny, switched fandoms, realized I wasn't a fan of the other fandom, and switched back. (Yes, I am rather indecisive.) Hopefully, I'll get to the end of this story before my plot bunny gets bored again. :)


Stakeouts at the local insane asylum had become, in recent years, a weekly routine. Even though Henry and the entire Gotham City Police Department swore up and down that it was secure, Batman knew better. Once a week, if not more often, he'd park the Batmobile at the bottom of the hill and spend the next half-hour or so with a pair of binoculars, watching for suspicious activity. Usually, that meant someone breaking out.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. This was Gotham City, after all; ordinary had never been enough for her. Extraordinary homelessness, extraordinary crime rates, extraordinary poverty. No need for average, run-of-the-mill nutcases; Arkham Asylum's inmates will make the average schizophrenic look positively sane.

Batman lowered the binoculars and studied the asylum from the full distance. If he squinted just right and didn't look too close, it almost passed for the stately manor house it once was. But that was only if he tried. A visitor to Gotham would know it housed something sinister, even if they had missed the sign at the bottom of the hill and the words ARKHAM ASYLUM twisted into the wrought-iron fence.

He raised his binoculars again and swept the yard, switching his vision to infrared. There, by the south wall, a lone figure made its way over the grounds.

Leaving the Batmobile behind, Batman darted up the hill on foot, crouching as low as he could. The asylum was positioned so no one could approach without being seen, but he had his tricks.

Once he was within range, Batman shot a grappling hook toward the roof. The nearly inaudible scrape and clink confirmed it had found a hold; another button pressed, and he was speeding toward the roof. He landed, retracted the grappling hook, and made his way to the south wall. The figure darted around to the east wall just as he came into view.

One more grappling hook took hold; this time Batman swung to the ground and landed directly in front of the figure. The man stopped short, stumbled and fell.

Batman cocked an eyebrow behind his mask. "Enjoying the night, are we?"


A loud thunk jerked Harley from a sound sleep. She bolted upright, eyes darting around. White walls, tiled floor, vague shapes she recognized as furniture in the dark. No white mask grinning at her from the shadows. No shrill laugh mocking her from the doorway.

Harley sighed. Another nightmare, dead and gone until the next night.

Thunk. Low-voiced muttering, soft and indistinct.

She drew the blanket up to her chin as though it could ward off whatever lurked outside her window. Another voice answered the first.

Shaking all over, Harley pushed the covers aside and went to the window. She'd look out, see who it was, and go back to bed. That's all she'd do. Not stay long enough for them to see her, or hear what they wanted. Just long enough to see who was paying her a visit. Scarcely daring to breathe, Harley peeked out.

From her second-story window, Harley saw two figures. Her bird's-eye view gave her an average-looking man, your typical garden variety thug, and a tall figure cloaked in black. His gloved fist held the thug's collar, keeping him at arm's legnth.

Harley sank to the floor, fist shoved in her mouth to hold back a scream. Mistah J had sent a spy, and Batman had tagged along. She didn't know who to fear more.


Batman gave the thug another shake. "I said, what are you doing here?"

"Aw, c'mon, Batsy, you already know..."

"So it is Harley." He pulled him closer, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. "What did the Joker send you for? Surveillance? Or are you just his gopher?"

"I-I just came to watch her! See where she was...that's all! I-I didn't do nothing else!"

Batman stared him down for another minute, then tossed him aside like a dishrag. "Go," he growled.

He'd never seen a chubby man run so fast.


Harley meant to stay beneath the windowsill, where she could neither see nor be seen. But when the muffled growls and terrified whimpers stopped with a thud, she dared another peek.

Batman stood alone in the moonlight, watching the thug beat a hasty retreat. A soft breeze stirred his cloak, and she saw his fists were clenched.

He'd scared the thug away?

It made sense, in a way. If Mistah J didn't know how to bust her out, Batman wouldn't have to worry about her for a while. One less henchgirl for him to deal with.

But if the Joker was looking for her, could Batman really keep him away?

Harley considered that for a few minutes, but a clear answer eluded her. For as long as she had known the Joker, he and Batman had been at each other's throats. It was like a game, Joker had explained, where the victor was never clear and the rules changed daily. Harley had both observed and participated, and even with her out of the picture, it showed no sign of slowing.

The only difference was that now she was one of the stakes.

The game hadn't stopped with her on the sidelines; if tonight was any indication, it was about to intensify. Joker and Batman, using Gotham as a massive chessboard with her fate in the balance. The thought unnerved her.