Author's Note: For future reference…I do not own the Rolling Stones. Yet. I do not own the Rolling Stones yet. *grabs large sack* Off to the airport!

Selina casually flipped through the latest issue of French Vogue that she had picked up at the airport, stopping every once in awhile to enjoy the view out the plane window. Years of dealing with certified psychos had her trained well so when Harley came running out of the hotel carrying all the luggage yelling "Grab that cab!" she didn't blink, question, or hesitate. She hailed the cab as told, popped open the trunk, assisted Harley in putting the bags in, and climbed into the backseat after the blonde. Selina handed over the chicken nuggets and fries she'd bought for Harley and they ate in silence all the way to the airport where they got out of the cab, bought two tickets on a flight to London, and proceeded to the gate to wait.

Not once did she even think of asking where they were going, what had happened to Joker, and what they were going to do once they got to wherever. She just went along with the flow trusting all mysteries would be solved in good time. Her good faith was rewarded once the plane was in the air and Harley had her Shirley Temple and peanuts.

"I left Mistah J handcuffed to the bed back at the hotel," Harley explained unprompted.

"He's going to be pissed when he gets free," Selina warned.

"I know."

"He's going to come looking for you."

"I'm aware."

"You want him to chase you, don't you?"

Harley smiled and innocently sipped her kiddy cocktail.

"So London then?"

"That rat was talking so much about it, my interest was peaked."

"London's not all that special."

"No where is really all that special, it's up to you to make it special."

"That was oddly profound for you."

"I think I read it on a postcard back at the airport."

"Yup, now it makes sense."

"Anyway, we're going to London and then from there who knows."

"Who knows? Do you ever plan on going back to Gotham?"

"When I'm satisfied."

"Satisfied with what?"

Harley just smiled.

"Oh boy, this is going to be a long trip."

Large romantic gestures where something Oswald Cobblepot was not good at. He had the money to do anything but the imagination was usually lacking or the execution was poor. Case in point, having Scarlet move in with him. Having to kidnap her was not the plan nor very romantic. Thankfully it all worked out in the end, proving she was in fact his soul mate. His other half. His mate for life. In order to make this proposal everything Scarlet deserved, he would need help. A simple night on the town with a casual proposal would not do. No, he needed it to be grand, massive, enchanting, magical, a fairytale, romantic, spectacular. It would be unforgettable for years to come and expensive. He ground his teeth into the long cigarette holder perched in his mouth. Expensive. Hard to believe there was a time where his wallet was so tightly clamped shut he could barely spare a nickel without a dime return. Now he found it easy to dish out money, especially where Scarlet was concerned. He had made a promise to himself when he finally had her in his arms, she would want for nothing. The slightest glance in a jewelry store window and it would all be hers, a moment's pause on an ad in a magazine and the item in question would be in a gift box in her hands the next day. Keep her happy, keep her forever.

Not that Scarlet ever asked for these things. She never asked for anything in fact except his time, his affection. Nights alone with him at home instead of on his arm at the Iceberg, for him to tell her he loved her a hundred times over dinner, or lavish her with kisses first thing in the morning. But Oswald was no stranger to women and in the end they all wanted something material, even if they wouldn't come out and ask for it. He would keep spoiling her in the way she had become accustomed and this marriage proposal would be no different. His cigarette finally burned out to his dismay. He had completely forgotten about it.

"Holly!" Oswald called through the closed door of his office. Holly was never too far from it. She was well trained to always be near the boss knowing that at any moment her presence would be required.

It took only a second for the dirty blonde waitress to make her way into his office, hands pulling her long curly hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her way. She immediately noticed the lack of smoke in the room so she picked the silver cigarette case up off the desk, pulled one out, replaced the burned out one in his holder, and flicked the matching silver lighter to light it. A routine she was so used to it didn't even faze her anymore. "I hope that wasn't the reason you called me in here."

"No, but thank you all the same."

"Not a problem."

"I need your help."

"Funny how the conversation in here always starts like that."

"Well you are my right hand girl."

"And one day I might even have the pay to show it."

"Now see here missy, you make more than all those girls out there and certainly more than any wait…"

Holly held up a hand to silence him and smiled. "I'm teasing Mr. Cobblepot. I'm fully aware of how spoiled I am here."

"Too right you are."

"So, what am I helping you with this time?"

"Scarlet."

"Want me to off her? Throw her in to swim with the fishes?"

"I'm so happy that you have decided to pick up where the Joker left off with not funny jokes."

"I'm funny. I'm ha ha ha-larious."

"We will agree to disagree. Now, about Scarlet, I need help with my um...you know."

"No I don't and really need you to finish the sentence because my mind is…"

Oswald quacked in mild shock. "Good lord woman! Get your mind out of the gutter. I need you to help me plan my proposal."

"Ok, that I can do. What did you have in mind?"

"Something big."

"Ok…"

"That's it. I don't even know where to begin."

Holly nodded.

"I want it to be over the top romantic. Nothing will be too much."

"Why not just do a romantic dinner, maybe a carriage ride, and just pop the question?"

"That's too typical."

"Well you don't want to have a big event, Eddie did that with Harley…hmmm…oh! You could rent out the aquarium. Scarlet loves it there. Make it a private day for just the two of you and then one of the divers can hold up a sign that says will you marry me."

Oswald stared at her like she was smoking crack. "That is tacky."

"Excuse me."

"I need something classy."

"Ok, classy." Holly closed her eyes hoping she would think better. "What if we closed down the Iceberg for the night, decorated the hell out of it, had a string quartet or something, and you two could eat, drink, dance, and then at the end of the night a big fireworks display where you pop the question."

"Hmmm…"

"We can do the whole place up in candles so it's nice and dim, we'll do all her favorite foods, we'll get the fireworks to spell out the proposal, the band can play her favorite songs, do a little slideshow of your relationship, and I do believe it is your anniversary soon so if you do it on that night she'll be none the wiser."

"Not bad."

"I think it'd be really spectacular. And then after she says yes, we have the engagement party. So instead of closing for the whole night we just open after dinner."

"I'm liking the idea."

"Do I start making the plans?"

"Get to it."

Frantic pounding on Edward's door was nothing unusual. Actually, before Alice, Jervis's tiny fists slamming against the wooden obstruction was more common than not. Eddie crossed the living room, eyes glued to the all too thrilling episode of Dr. Phil about strange health conditions ("A uterus can fall out? What the hell?" he had screeched) and opened the door. "Sorry I was engrossed in this," he turned now to face the visitor, screamed "Gah!" and jumped several feet in the air and away from the door.

Jonathan Crane who had not expected such a greeting, screamed himself and dropped to the ground.

After a good solid three minutes of deep breathing, Eddie managed to regain some composure and said, "Sorry, I was sure you were Jervis and you scared me when you weren't."

"Quite alright, I get that reaction more often than not," Jonathan assured him pulling himself up off the floor and making his way into the apartment.

"I really am sorry."

"Please Edward, no harm."

"Well, have a seat. Can I offer you anything?"

"Water, please."

Eddie grabbed two water bottles out of the fridge and gave one to Jonathan. "So, what can I do for you?"

Jonathan sucked down half the water in the bottle and got down to business. "I fear I am in a bit of a pickle with Sage."

"It's always a dame."

"Indeed."

"She mad at you?"

"Not yet."

"Yet? Whoah boy."

"I do not know how this happened. I can't even remember the night in question."

"That is never a good start to things."

"Perhaps I should start with what I do remember which is this text." Jonathan handed his phone over.

Eddie's eyes nearly popped right out of his head. "Holy watermelons!"

"Yes."

He inspected the picture further. It was Jonathan with a more than busty blonde wearing nothing but some dental floss up her bum sitting in his lap, lips pressed tightly to his. "Safe to say she's a stripper of some kind."

"Yes but I have no interest in strippers. This cheap floozy is nothing compared to my Sage."

"Then why are you making out with her?"
"I wasn't! I mean, I don't remember doing it. I can't even remember going out."

Eddie scrolled down to the message attached to the picture. "What the hell is this Johnny? I always thought you were better than this. Keeping this story until you can explain yourself. You got till midnight."

"I swear, Sage went out to dinner with an old friend from college, I had a couple drinks at home, and went to bed at 9pm sharp."

"You're lucky the Tipster is holding this."

"Only until midnight."

"Curious, exactly where do I fit into all this?"

"Well, you are the Riddler, this is a riddle needing to be solved, and I hear from Jervis you make a good best friend."

"Since when are we best friends?"

"Since I was a victim of the body snatchers! Damn it Edward help me!"

"Alright, I'll help you. Nothing going on today anyway."

"What do we do first?"

"See if we can't find Booberella."

There was no need to knock, the beautiful perky blonde had checked out an hour prier to the room was to be empty. That was how it usually went for the maid but today was different. She walked into the large king room, humming, fully prepared to do her duty. She dipped into the bathroom to collect the soiled towels, came out, and was shocked to see a man on the bed. She screamed, dropping the stack to the floor needing her hands to cover her mouth.

"Pardon me," Joker began with a smile. "Would you be so kind as to get me the hell out of these handcuffs?"

The maid tentatively approached the bed, eyes wide, hand still covering the horrified expression on her mouth. "Key?" she asked in a little more than a whisper.

"I think she took it."

"I will call maintenance." And with that, the poor young maid ran out of the room much to the dismay of the imprisoned clown.

"I'm going to kill the bobble headed twit."

Not too long after the maid fled, a burley man entered the room with a tool box in hand. Joker assumed this was maintenance or he had been sold in a Hostel-esque situation. The maintenance man walked over to the bed, smile on his face. "Bonjour."

"Hi," Joker growled.

"You got yourself into a little situation no?"

"Seems so Mr…."

"Gaspard," the large Frenchman introduced pulling up his loose fitting jeans.

"Joker."

"Monsieur Joker…eh! Gotham Joker?"

"Yup."

"Ah. Mademoiselle Quinn get a little frisky?" Gaspard belly laughed, apparently this was hilarious to him.

"She got a little pissy is what happened. Are you going to get these things off me or no?"

"Oui, monsieur, oui." He pulled out a small lock picking kit and began to go to work on the metal cuffs.

Joker gave an exasperated sigh. He was thankful he had gone with boxers before he got dressed. The usual commando could've proved awkward at this moment.

"Almost done."

"Woo fucking hoo."

"Awe monsieur Joker should smile. Is funny when you think about it."

When he heard this distinctive click of the cuffs unlocking, Joker acted fast. He threw Gaspard down onto the bed and snapped the metal bonds around his wrists. The Frenchman was clearly much larger than the thin clown but Joker had long ago learned, brute strength accounted for nothing, you needed strategy to win against your opponent. Something Harley had proven earlier when she outwitted him. Joker gave the man's pants a fast yank. "You're right, it is funny." And he left.

"I forgot to turn my phone on when we landed," Harley said pulling her phone out of her purse while Selina unpacked her bags in the hotel suite. "I have 10 missed calls and 10 voicemail messages."

Message 1: "Thought that was funny didn't you? Well guess what sweetheart it wasn't and when I get my hands on you I'll show you what's funny!"

Message 2: "Where the hell did you go? How am I supposed to throttle you if I can't find you?"

Message 3: "Damn it woman!"

Message 4: "Keep ignoring me. You're just making it worse for yourself."

Message 5: "Harley baby look, daddy's not mad anymore. Just call me ok?"

Message 6: "You bitch! Tell me where you are!"

Messages 7-10 were mostly wild grunting with the occasional obscenity thrown in for good measure.

Harley smiled as she deleted them all. "I guess someone sprung Joker."

"He is going to be on the warpath until he finds you."

"I'm not worried."

Selina rolled her eyes. "Better you than me, girl."

"This delightful photo comes to us from Paris France! Answering the age old question boxers or briefs and it looks like Joker is a boxers man!"

"Things I can't unsee," Bruce shuddered quickly turning off his phone.

"Not even going to look. Deleting it outright," Dick said quickly hitting the delete button.

"You're engaged now, shouldn't you be with your fiancée?"

"She's with her dad."

"Telling him?"

"No inviting him to dinner so we can tell him together, as a family."

Bruce stopped sorting through his mail at this point. "Family?"

"Yup."

"We?"

"Uh huh."

"Damn, I'm included in this aren't I?"

"You bet your sweet ass pops."

Gone are the days of the carefree bachelor. Bruce Wayne managed to avoid any kind of relationship commitment but still managed to have kids coming out the ass. "When?"

"Tonight."

"I have patrol."

"No you don't. I called Azrael. He'll patrol until dinner is over."

"Damn."

"You're coming, so is Tim and he wants to bring Stephanie. Alfred is going too."

"Can I bring a guest?"

"No. Selina is out of town and I refuse to have some bubble head whose IQ is lower than her cup size at my engagement dinner. Alfred is your date."

"That's not fair."

"Nope but its life son. Isn't that the speech you gave me every time you grounded my ass?"

"Sounds like something I would say. You know, with all the excitement with you and Barbara I almost forgot to tell you about my strange encounter the other night."

"Encounter with Strange or weird encounter."

"Weird. Jervis Tetch summoned me to the signal to tell me about the ring Oswald bought for Scarlet."

Dick laughed. "What?"

"Yeah something about he bought her the Krupp diamond."

"No way!"

"Yes way? I don't really know how to respond to that."

"That's a large expensive diamond."

"Indeed."

"Makes my ring look like a toy."

"I'm not giving you the kind of money to buy that ridiculous rock."

"Naw I don't need it. Barbara likes the one she has."

"Oh and this goes without saying but you can't tell anyone. I was sworn to secrecy."

"I won't tell anyone," Tim assured them stepping into the room.

"Spying on us?" Dick asked.

"No, I live here. I was just walking into the room."

"Both of you, don't tell anyone about the ring."

It took Dick and Tim only five minutes collectively to vacate the room and get on the phone to tell Barbara and Stephanie respectively about the juicy bit of gossip.

Selina had insisted on a nap. The day's excitement was wearing her thin and she needed time to recuperate before Harley got them tangled up in some other nonsense. This left Harley awake and alone which Selina wasn't all too thrilled with but Harley assured her she'd stick close to the hotel and be on her best behavior. No talking to strangers, no taking things from strangers, and no wandering passed the five block radius around the hotel. There were plenty of shops to keep her occupied for a couple hours and a few cafes and restaurants in case she got hungry. Selina set the alarm on her phone for exactly two hours and she expected Harley to be there when her eyes fluttered open. Harley begrudgingly agreed commenting over and over that she was not a child and couldn't understand why she was being treated as such. But all the same, she popped a sucker into her mouth and bounded out the door, pink teddy bear backpack purse in hand.

Harley wasn't on the street long before her stomach started to growl louder than the traffic around her. In all the excitement of the day she had neglected to eat a proper meal, except for the nuggets Selina had gotten her. She scoured the names of the local restaurants hoping to find something that caught her eye. As she wandered, eyes locked on the signs overhead, she failed to realize she had walked straight out of the five block constraint. Finally a black sign reading Red Boot Pub in bright red script captured her attention. She strolled into the little pub and took a seat at one of the empty tables. A short, plump, wild curly red headed woman sauntered over to the table, notebook in hand and gave her a weak smile. "What'll it be lass?" she asked in a thick Irish accent.

"Um…" Harley looked over the menu quickly, none of it really sounded al that great.

"American?" the waitress asked.

"That obvious huh?"

"Most Brits know what they be wantin' before they come in. I suggest the fish n' chips."

"Seems so touristy."

The waitress shrugged. "Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a tourist."

"Alright then. Fish and chips it is."

"What'll ya be guzzlin'?"

"Huh?"

"Drinkin'. Sorry me dad always says guzzlin'. Force o' habit."

"Diet coke?" she asked with an innocent shrug.

"Aye. Get it right for ya."

"Eh! Mary!" a man called from the other end of the bar.

"Hold your horses! I'm busy!"

"Mary!"

"Sod off!"

Harley smiled, unsure if she should run for the closest McDonald's or stick around to see the fiery red head give the business to the rowdy group.

"Sorry bout them. Thinkin' they own the joint. Not a pint of manners in the whole country I tell ya. If I wasn't married to the oaf behind the bar I'd go back home."

Harley looked over at the man behind the bar. He was tall, messy black hair graying at the temples, with a bitch of five o'clock shadow hugging his jaw. He smiled at her warmly when he noticed her staring. Harley blushed and gave a wave. "He seems nice."

"Mary!" the man called again.

"For the love of…David! Will ya take care o' those hooligans!"

"Alright, don't shout," David, Mary's husband, called back.

"I'll go get ya drink deary." Mary gave her a pat on the shoulder and walked over to the bar to pour Harley's diet coke.

Harley liked Mary and David. They reminded her of Ivy and Harvey back home. She felt a twinge of homesickness at the thought of that. This was the longest she had been from Gotham and certainly the farthest.

Mary sat the glass down on the table in front of Harley who barely registered her sudden appearance. "Ya alright dear?"

"Yeah just thinking."

The middle aged Irish woman took the chair next to Harley. "Tell Mary what's on your mind."

"Full service bar huh?"

"Back home, a pub wasn't just a pub, it was your family. Everyone there be knowing your business."

"I'm a little homesick I guess."

"Where ya from?"

"Gotham."

"Omph. The big bad city."

"It's not so bad."

"I hear all kinds o' stories. Men dressed as bats, plant people."

"Every city has their freak show."

"Aye, I suppose so."

"I just miss my family."

"Ya mean ya be missin' your man."

"What?"

"Don't lie to Mary. I know the look. That twinkle in your eye sayin' ya be missin' someone special."

"He isn't really my man."

"He belong to someone else?"

"No."

"He lookin' to be with someone else?"

"No."

"He's yours."

"I don't know if I want him to be mine anymore."

"Ya do. I can see it. No matter how you look at it, you don't see a future without him. Right now you're bein' stubborn. Tryin' to fight the fates but ya can't keep it up forever. Eventually you'll give in and when ya do you'll be happier for it."

"What if he's a total ass who deserves to be alone?"

"Why's that?"

"He told me he loved me and took it back."

"Men be daft girl. They say all kinds of stupid stuff when they're all keen on a girl. If every girl listened to the dumb things spewin' out of their pie holes the human race would die out. Watch what a man does, don't listen to what he says."

Harley nodded.

"Mary, order," David told her.

Mary walked over to the bar and picked up the plate of fish and chips and sat it on Harley's table. "Now, eat up and think about what I tells ya."

Harley did as she was told but when she got to her fries and notice the lack of ketchup on the table, eating had to stop. She scoured the tables for a stray bottle, finding none she turned her attention to the bar. There, down by the rowdy group that had been bugging Mary earlier, was a lone bottle of red deliciousness. Nothing was going to stand in her way of retrieving said bottle. Especially some rowdy drunkards. She had handled worse in the Iceberg for example, one Hugo Strange drunk on cranberry and vodka while high on painkillers given to him by the dentist he just left after having a tooth pulled. Hugo was bad to begin with, he was worse when incoherent and drooling all down the front of you while he held onto your waist for dear life.

She got up and crossed the small dim room until she was standing next to the group. "Excuse me, are you using that?" she asked pointing to the ketchup bottle.

"What'll you give me for it?" the louder one of the group asked with what she assumed to be a flirty grin.

Harley narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. This was not going to be easy. "A fatter lip if you don't hand it over."

There was a group "Oooo".

She studied the loud one, he looked familiar but she couldn't place it. Something about his large mouth. The one sitting next to him also seemed familiar but she couldn't see him all too well under the old fedora.

"You're a real pistol."

"You don't know the half of it."

"I'd like to."

She rolled her eyes.

The man in the fedora apparently had enough of the game. He grabbed the ketchup bottle and handed it to Harley. He looked up at her and said, "There you go Miss Quinn."

Harley froze, hand around the bottle. "Excuse me?"

He smiled at her. "Miss Quinn. You're name."

"How did you…"

"Can't forget the woman who nearly killed me with my own guitar. They're few and far between you know."

Harley's eyes went wide with sudden recognition. "Holy crap you're Keith Richards."

Keith nodded.

"And you're Mick Jagger."

"That's right," Mick replied.

The memory hit her like a squirrel jumping in front of an SUV. It had been years ago, five maybe but certainly not ten. It was simple enough, break into the chemical plant, steal whatever smelly goo the Joker needed for his upcoming Batman killing trap, and get out. But simple was an evil word. Nothing was ever simple. She never knew how Batman always ended up where they were but there he was all the same. Harley normally would've stood her ground, went head to head, toe to toe, with the caped crusader but Ace Chemicals was not the ideal sparring location. Instead she followed her paramour and fled, smelly goo in hand.

Batman was clearly not about to let them get away with their prize, he gave chase. The car made it across town before one stray glance backward gave Joker just enough time to crash into a light pole. "Come on Harley you need a workout anyway," he called jumping out of the trashed corvette. Harley wanted to kick his ass but thought better to argue later when they were home. Joker forced open a large metal door and pulled her through. After a few minutes of winding down twisted hallways they made it to what seemed like a backstage area full of people. That's when she realized they were in the Gotham arena and apparently Batman wasn't too worried about it because he was now pushing through the crowd of outraged and confused tour staff toward the pair. Once again Joker yanked her in another direction with no real explanation for where they were going. They brushed past the curtains and out onto the stage. The audience didn't seem to really notice until Batman dropped down next to the intruders. There were some cheers, a few screams, and a lot of unsure applause.

"What are you doing?" Mick Jagger asked completely outraged. "This is our show."

One Batman was not a big deal for the couple, but when Nightwing made a guest appearance, Harley knew they were in for some trouble. She grabbed the nearest object, a guitar, and gave it a wild swing at the younger vigilante. She missed spectacularly, spun around from the sheer force, and managed to whack Keith Richards in the back. What happened next was a blur. She remembered stars, darkness, and waking up in an Arkham hospital bed later on the next day.

Harley shook the memory from her mind and pulled the ketchup bottle toward her. "Sorry about that. Nothing personal."

"I suppose it happens, in Gotham anyway," Keith said.

"More often than you think. If you ever run into Brian Setzer you should ask about the time he was in Gotham and Killer Croc thought it would be a fun group activity."

"I'll remember that."

"Poor saxophone player. He never saw that chunk of brick wall coming."

"What brings you across the pond?" Mick asked.

"Vacation."

"You're boyfriend around then?"

"Nope. Me and my friend Selina."

"Got any big plans while you're here?"

"Not really."

"You should come to our show tonight. Charity concert for some kind of disease or country or something. Who can keep them all straight anymore?"

"A sober person," Harley thought to herself.

"Here, two tickets for you and your mate."

"Thanks."

"Just don't pick up any instruments," Keith joked.

"Where the hell have you been?" Selina cried when Harley finally got back to the hotel room.

"I was out. You said I could."

"I said be back in two hours. You were gone for three and a half."

"Sorry I was over at this pub and I guess it was further than I thought."

"Further than five blocks?"

"Kind of."

"How much?"

"More like 15."

Selina sighed.

"Anyway, I had lunch and guess what, I got tickets to the Rolling Stones tonight!"

"You took something from a stranger?"

"Nope! From Mick Jagger himself."

"You know Mick Jagger?" Selina asked in disbelief.

"Well, not before today…"

"So a stranger."

"How can a famous person be a stranger?"

"How in the hell did you run into Mick Jagger?"

"And Keith Richards who I know a little more than Mick because I thumped him with a guitar a few years back."

Selina was getting a headache from trying to follow this conversation.

"Anyway, the show starts in two hours so I'm going to shower real quick."

"Ok."

Harley bounded into the bathroom leaving Selina alone on the bed. Only with Harley Quinn would you end up in London England, spur of the moment, getting ready to go to a Rolling Stones show with tickets given to you by the band. Only Harley Quinn could assault Keith Richards with a guitar and end up being friendly with him years later. Only Harley Quinn could do these magical things. Selina didn't know what it was about the girl but she had some sort of charm that just opened the world up to her. Instead of fighting it, she would throw on her jeans and a black sleeveless shirt that said "Rock & Roll" across the chest, brush through her hair, and throw on some makeup. She might as well enjoy the spillover from her friend's good luck.

"Who knew Harley Quinn was a groupie? Here she is with Keith and Mick. Cheerio!"

Joker slammed his wallet down onto the ticket counter at the airport. "London. One way."

"The next flight leaves in twenty minutes. I have one coach seat available," the nervous ticket seller told him.

"That's fine. Just give me the damned ticket."

The woman quickly entered in all the necessary information into the computer and handed over his boarding pass. "Enjoy your flight sir."

Joker snatched the paper away from her and began his long haul to the terminal. The gate you needed was never located conveniently near the entrance, especially when you had a few precious minutes to get there. He pulled out his phone and punched in Harley's number. It went to voicemail of course. "I'll be seeing you precious and London Bridge won't be the only thing going down."