Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC Comics and Warner Bros.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews everybody, they really inspire me *hint, hint*
Serial KillerHarley watched as Persona carefully washed the dishes, setting each one gently into the drying rack. It was Harley's job to dry the pans too big to fit into the rack but she was already done. Now she was sitting backwards in one of the kitchen chairs, her chin resting on her arms, which were folded on top of the chair's back. Mistah J had changed into his handsome purple suit and was busy planning stuff. He'd roughly tossed her out of the living room when she'd tried to help, so she decided to stay with Persona in the kitchen instead. Harley didn't blame the Joker for being mad at her though, he had been so sweet and wonderful to her the night before, when they had finally gotten the chance to be alone together. She sighed dreamily, a small smile crossing her lips. It had been everything she'd dreamed about and more…
A strange almost mechanical voice broke her thoughts, "This is NASA control calling Harley Quinn. Come in Harley Quinn. Do you plan on returning from space anytime soon?"
Harley looked up to see Persona looking at her. The brunette's hands were cupped around her mouth to alter her voice and gave the illusion that she was speaking through a mechanical device. She sounded like one of the ride controller's at an amusement park. "It appears that Harley Quinn has returned safely to Earth. Harley Quinn, have you really returned to us?"
Harley giggled, "Cut that out!"
Persona lowered her hands and grinned. "Where did you go off to?"
Harley bit her bottom lip, an almost shy smile on her face, "I was thinkin' of me and Mistah J last night…"
"Never mind, I don't wanna know!" She raised her hands in mock surrender.
Harley laughed, "Oh we're all gonna have so much fun together!"
A shadow seemed to cross Persona's face for a moment, her previous cheerfulness turning into something more serious, more concerned. The brunette pulled a chair next to Harley's and sat down, crossing her legs a little awkwardly under the far too big skirt.
"Harley, I think we need to have a little talk."
The blonde's eyes widened. She knew that tone of voice; she'd heard it a million times in the past, though this was the first time she'd heard Persona use it. This was the 'I have bad news' voice. Harley squirmed uncomfortably in her seat and shook her head.
Persona sighed softly, "Harley, please, listen. You know this isn't going to last, don't you?"
Harley felt her already wide eyes start to well up, just a bit. "Mistah J said I'd be his girl forever."
Persona winced, "Harley, the Scarecrow and I…"
Before Persona could continue Harley let out a relieved laugh, "Oh I get it! I thought you were gonna say that Mistah J and I weren't gonna last! But I understand, I really do. You and the doctor don't know each other as well as Mistah J and me. You need to go out on your own and uh, get 'acquainted.'" Harley made little air quote gestures with her fingers. "I guess it must be a little intimidating to try starting a new relationship when you're constantly faced with an established one…"
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Persona tried to hide the shock from her face. It was truly amazing to her that a woman as intelligent as Harley could take an idea and run joyfully in the opposite direction of where Persona was trying to lead her. She swallowed and tried to think of the gentlest way of breaking Harley's bubble. The blonde was still cheerfully babbling about her thoughts on Scarecrow and how best to seduce him.
"…So I think maybe because he's so pretty he feels a bit intimidated by women, especially a gal as independent and stuff as you are. You'll probably need to act a bit extra girly around him so he can feel like the big tough man…"
"Um Harley? That's not exactly what I was getting at."
Harley gave her a baffled look, "Huh?"
"What I was going to say is that the Scarecrow and I aren't…" Persona felt incredibly awkward, "um, romantically interested. The first time I met him I was trying to lure him into a trap that would end with him being forced to give a serial killer the recipe for his fear toxin and then probably get horribly murdered. Now, I admit, from the very beginning, even before I actually met Dr. Crane, I had planned on asking the serial killer to have mercy on Scarecrow and just send him back to Arkham, but still. Add on top of that all the lies…Scarecrow doesn't strike me as the forgiving type."
Harley gave her a condescending smile and an affectionate pat on the knee, "You're not very good with men are you?"
Persona's mouth dropped a bit, closed, dropped and finally she spoke in a stunned voice, "I don't know, I can't remember."
Harley grinned, "That's OK I can teach you all about them! I am a psychiatrist after all."
Suddenly the Joker burst into the room, "OK ladies I have to head out for a bit. Business…" He gestured vaguely with one purple gloved hand and smiled down at them, "Which, of course, means that we're gonna have to tie up our little friend here." He grinned at Persona and put his hand on the back of her chair.
Harley looked up at him in surprise, "But why?"
The Joker pursed his lips in frustration then roughly stroked the top of the blonde's head in a mockery of a comforting gesture. "Because Harley-girl I don't trust you not to let Persona out of your sight unless she's tied up."
Harley's mouth opened again to protest but his grip tightened on her hair and she let out a pathetic whimper instead.
Persona knew there was no getting out of this, "I don't mind getting tied up Joker, but can I go to the little villainesses' room first? I'm a little embarrassed to say I don't have the strongest of bladders."
Her self-deprecating humor seemed to put the Joker at ease and he gestured towards the washroom. "Be my guest."
She wished that she had some brilliant plan that involved getting something from the washroom in order to ready her escape, but the fact of the matter was she really did just want to go before getting tied up. The last thing she needed was the humiliation of wetting herself before the Joker or Scarecrow got back. When she got out of the washroom the Joker grabbed her by the wrist and roughly hauled her into the living room. She noticed the bed had been folded back into a couch.
To her embarrassment the Joker began feeling around her clothes, roughly sticking his hands into the skirt's pockets, feeling around her blouse, then stroking his hands down her skirt several times. She looked up at Harley and noticed the other woman looked almost jealous of the Joker's attention. Persona resisted the urge to roll her eyes, He's just checking for weapons, Harley. Besides, you're blonde, chesty and prettier than I could ever hope to be.
Satisfied, the clown dragged her over to the couch and sat her down. He stepped back, cocked his head to the side and then shook it. "That won't work," he mumbled. He looked at her face, "Lie down and raise your hands above your head."
Persona did as she was told, lying across the couch with her arms above her head and her legs stretched out. It was a long enough couch that her wrists were comfortably supported by one armrest while the other supported her feet. The Joker smiled, "Whaddya know? Perfect fit!"
He went to a pile of ropes on the floor, something he must've brought in while she was in the washroom, and pulled out a few long pieces. He moved to her wrists and began wrapping one of the pieces around them. She was a little surprised that he was being fairly careful. She had braced herself for pain, but though he tied her wrists together firmly, the ropes weren't painfully tight. He had wrapped her wrists in the middle of the rope so that each loose end could be tied to legs on that side of the couch. Once that was done, he tied her ankles together in the same way.
Harley watched in silence the entire time. When the Joker stood up he looked down at the blonde and grinned, "Now, now, Harley-girl no need to be jealous." He ran gloved fingertips along her cheek and she closed her eyes in anticipation. He leaned close to her ear and spoke in a deep, soft voice, "When I tie you up, you'll be naked."
Harley shivered and the Joker wrapped his arms around her, dipping her back into an over-the-top romantic kiss. Persona turned her head away and tried to block out the sounds the two were making. When the Joker finally lifted Harley up out of her 'swoon' position, the young woman's face was flushed and happy looking.
The Joker smirked but Harley didn't notice, she just saw a smile on his face. "Now Harley, you'll do your Mistah J a favor and keep an eye on our little couch potato while I'm gone, hmm?"
She smiled at him adoringly, "Sure thing."
He held up a finger in warning, "She's not allowed to be untied for any reason until I get back," he paused, thinking about it. "If the Scarecrow returns first and she really, really has to go pee or something, he's allowed to untie her. But NOT you, got it?"
Harley nodded, "Anything you say Mistah J, I promise!"
"Good girl," he patted her on the cheek. Then he turned and looked down at the grumpy looking couch potato, "Don't you worry, sweetie, I'm sure when the good doctor gets back, you'll get your share of kisses." He gave her a wink then walked out the door.
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There was nothing Edward Nashton wanted to do more than go home and get some sleep. Instead, he was at the hospital after passing out in the car while Bullock had been driving them over to GCPD headquarters. A part of him was kind of glad he'd been unconscious when he'd been brought to the hospital, the thought of Bullock carrying him in his arms like a passed out damsel in distress was more than a little embarrassing. Moments ago he'd woken up in the hospital bed with an older, gray haired doctor hovering over him and Bullock not far behind. At the moment he didn't really have the energy to sit up or even answer their questions, which for reasons his fuzzy mind couldn't quite get seemed to upset Detective Bullock. Currently his partner was worriedly pestering the doctor.
"So you're sure there's nothin' wrong with his head? I mean, why would he pass out if nothin' was wrong with his head?" Bullock's voice sounded cocky as ever, as if he knew better than the doctor.
"There's no permanent damage, Detective Bullock. The head injuries Detective Nashton sustained were enough to cause him to feel dizzy and faint but he'll fully recover in a day or two." The doctor's voice was incredibly calm, clearly, he was used to dealing with men like Bullock.
"What about his ribs? You said something about his ribs."
The doctor sighed, "Detective Nashton has a few hairline fractures on a couple of his ribs, undoubtedly due to his attacker slamming him into the ground from behind. They aren't fully broken though and with a little bed rest they'll heal up just fine." The doctor gave Bullock a reassuring smile, "Your partner is young and healthy. Just make sure he doesn't do too much strenuous activity and he'll be good as new in no time."
A knock at the door cut off Bullock before he could reply. The doctor turned and opened it. Commissioner Gordon stood in the doorway holding a briefcase. "I came as quickly as I could. Where's Nashton?"
The doctor gestured to the bed, "He's awake but still not fully responsive. I'm fairly certain part of the reason he's been affected so badly by the head injury is due to lack of sleep and pushing himself beyond his endurance."
The commissioner looked relieved, "The way you sounded on the phone Bullock, I thought Nashton was at death's door."
Bullock winced, "Sorry, Commish, they took him on a gurney and told me they were doing all kinds of tests…" He rubbed the back of his neck, "I wasn't sure what to make of it."
Despite the fading confusion in his head, Nashton was able to put the clues together at last. Bullock's initial attempts to belittle and frustrate Eddie, the older man's grudging respect for his partner's intelligence, the slow turn from mocking each other to brotherly teasing, the rage he went into against Eddie's attacker, all lead to his strange, mother hen behavior now. Nashton wasn't certain, but he'd be willing to bet that Bullock's last partner had been killed in the line of duty, and the survivor had wanted to avoid that pain happening again.
Eddie's suspicions were fueled by the look of pity on Gordon's face as he listened to Bullock. The commissioner nodded at the big man, gave him a pat on the shoulder and then moved over to Eddie's bedside. The hospital gown had revealed some awful scrapes and bruises on his arms and he had the feeling that most of his body, including his face, wasn't much better.
Gordon shook his head, "You've had a hell of a day, haven't you?"
Eddie gave a small smile. He wanted to speak but found himself too tired. It was strange to him; he'd been able to talk right after the incident. Why was he worse off now?
As if reading his mind, Bullock asked the question for him, "He was able to talk when it first happened, why is he worse now?"
The doctor shrugged, "His body was likely pumped full of adrenaline after the fight. Now that it's calmed, exhaustion and pain have taken their toll. On top of that, we can't really give him any painkillers to help him, due to both the nature of his injuries and of his other medication. We'll keep him overnight, just to be safe, but I'm sure he'll be fine in the morning. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients."
Gordon nodded, "Thank you, doctor."
The doctor left and Gordon turned to Bullock, "You're wondering what the doctor meant by 'his other medication' aren't you?"
Eddie would guess by the look on Bullock's face that the big cop hadn't really thought about it. Bullock's brows furrowed, "What did he mean by that?"
Gordon sighed and pulled out a folder from his briefcase, "I brought this in case the doctor's needed further information about Nashton, but since they seem to have things under control, I think maybe you should read it."
Bullock looked even more confused, "Nashton's file?"
Eddie moaned from the bed. Just when it seemed he was getting some respect from Bullock, Gordon decided to give the man a glimpse of Eddie's personal file. Both healthy cops turned to look at him.
Bullock frowned, "I bet junior doesn't want me reading this. So unless there's something in here that might cost me or him our lives…"
Gordon smiled slightly, "No there isn't. I just thought it might answer your questions about his medication."
The big cop turned to look down at Nashton, "Nah. When he gets better he can tell me. Right Eddie?"
The panic eased out of him and he gave a small smile before drifting back into sleep.
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Jonathan Crane entered his old apartment warily. Even in his disguise he was half expecting police officers to jump out at him and drag him kicking and screaming back to Arkham. The place was empty. There were no police officers, vengeful mobsters or even squatters in the place. There was also no furniture or clothing left. Crane smiled to himself. The furniture he couldn't care less about, it wasn't like he would've dragged it all the way back to the Joker's place anyways. He wasn't thrilled that his closets had been emptied, but the suits that had been hanging there weren't his favorites anyways. His favorites had been carefully hidden with his other personal artifacts.
Jonathan stood in the doorway and looked down at the floorboards. He took twelve carefully measured steps forward, then eight to the left and crouched down. He carefully felt around the floorboard until his finger hit a tiny notch in the wood at the edge of the board. He hooked his middle fingernail into it and carefully lifted the board. Instead of putting it aside, he lowered the board into the hole and heard the snap of several mousetraps going off. Crane was no idiot. He was well aware that getting snapped at by mousetraps, although extremely painful, would not keep a determined thief out. In fact, it would likely be a sign to them that he was hiding something of great value. Which was why there was a small vial of liquid fear toxin carefully set on each trap. When the traps snapped on unwary fingers they would also break the vials sending small shards of glass and big drops of fear toxin directly onto the wounded fingers. Luckily for Crane, the board took all the damage from the traps and he was able to safely reach under the floor to the latch that would allow him to lift open four more boards.
In the back of his head Jonathan heard a faint whisper, Scarecrow. The ex-doctor smiled. He had hoped that the site of the emergency pack would help his other half awaken from the forced hibernation Arkham's drugs had put upon him. Crane reached down and lifted a duffle bag out of the hole in the floor. The bottom was lined with his favorite suits, important as much to protect the other contents of the bag as for their own sake. An extra pair of shoes, several carefully wrapped bottles of chemicals, three lab journals, two extra pairs of glasses, a couple of his wrist dispensers, a few packages of his toxin in powdered form and his mask filled the bag.
Jonathan swiftly removed the Joker's hand me down shoes and put on his own pair. As much as he would've liked to put on one of his suits, it was still daylight and he'd be far less recognizable in the ordinary, baggy clothes he'd borrowed from the Joker than in his own clothes. Besides, a guy in a suit carrying a large duffel bag would seem much more strange than a guy in jeans and a plain gray sweater. While it was a little risky, he couldn't resist putting on a pair of his glasses. It wasn't that he couldn't get around without them, he had to when he was wearing his mask, but he did see better when they were on and his eyes felt strained when he didn't wear them for long periods of time. He checked if his wrist dispensers were full and then strapped one on. The baggy sweater easily hid it. Finally, he put the floorboards back in place and left the apartment.
No one looked at him twice as he walked down the street carrying his heavy duffle bag. Though he was a slender man he was stronger than he looked and it didn't strain him too much to carry it over his shoulder. This way if he did happen upon any trouble he'd be able to quickly lift his wrist and disperse his gas. Not ideal, since he wasn't wearing his mask, but he'd be able to move away in time to avoid being affected. Luckily for the slime of Gotham no one tried to attack him. He was even able travel on public transit in broad daylight back to the Joker's hideout without anyone noticing him.
However, upon entering the clown's lair he was a little surprised by the welcome he received.
"Oh thank God, you're back!" Persona cried out from the couch. He turned towards her and chuckled. She was lying on her back and firmly tied by the wrists and ankles to the couch legs. Harley was sitting on the floor in front of her with a pile of cards spread out between them.
Harley beamed up at him, "Hiya Dr. Crane! Do you mind untying Persona, now? She's gotta go to the uh, little villainesses' room."
Jonathan frowned, "Why was she tied up in the first place?"
Persona squirmed, "Harley can explain after you untie me. I've been lying here for hours waiting for one of you to get back."
Jonathan smiled pleasantly down at her, "Surely you can wait a few more moments while Harley reassures me that the Joker won't gut me for letting you go."
Harley's face went serious and she held up her hand as though taking an oath, "I solemnly swear that Mistah J said that I wasn't allowed to untie Persona until you or he got back. He said he didn't trust me to watch her unless she was tied up." Harley gave a mischievous grin, "But he knows he can trust you not to take your eyes off her!"
Crane snorted at Harley's childish innuendo, but bent next to Persona and began untying the rope that held her wrists. "Harley, you can untie her ankles."
The ditzy blonde, it became harder and harder for Crane to remember she'd once been a doctor, swiftly moved to the other woman's ankles and began untying the rope. They had barely finished when Persona jumped up, ran to the washroom and shouted, "Thank you!"
Harley bit her lip, "I probably shouldn't' have given her so much soda, but we were both so thirsty and I thought it'd be mean to drink in front of her."
Jonathan shoved the ropes off the couch and sat down. "Where did the Joker go?"
Harley shrugged, "He said he had to do business, but that he'd be back tonight."
"Hmm I would think he's lost the good will of the mob and gangs at this point."
Persona re-entered the room. "Where could he go in broad daylight dressed in his costume? I mean I assume there was a car in the garage he took, but still. Anyone who looked inside would freak out if they saw the driver."
Crane stretched his arms across the back of the couch, stretching his legs out in front and crossing them at the ankles. He felt great. His fear toxin and lab journals were back in his possession, the Arkham meds were finally making their way out of his system, he could feel the Scarecrow recovering in his mind and Persona had thanked God he'd returned. Well that last was mostly because she knew he'd untie her, but he was fairly certain she'd be much less relieved to see the Joker. If anyone else in Gotham showed relief that it was the Scarecrow and not the Joker they were facing he'd be furious. With her, he felt oddly proud. Of course, there was nothing else to it.
He tilted his head slightly to the side when he heard the Scarecrow's soft, mocking chuckle echoing from the back of his mind.
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Louie Stone knew he was in trouble. He'd kicked the shit out of a cop today. In the old days of Gotham, that wouldn't be such a big deal, but nowadays…well there were two vigilantes running around and one of them had a habit of cutting people up into so much dog food. The GCPD had already released a police sketch of his face to the public and it was already all over the news. He knew better than to go back to his bosses. They'd be almost as furious at him as the cops. Sure he hadn't answered any of their questions but reacting as badly to them as he did was a pretty hefty clue. Had it just been him and the big cop it wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. The big cop didn't really ask any dangerous questions, but the little cop…he was smart. The little cop just seemed to have this talent for wrapping him up in words, confusing him and pulling answers out of him before he even knew what he was saying. Maybe that was why he'd been so hard on the little cop. When he'd hit him with that two by four he'd thrown everything he had into it. Yet the little rat didn't stay down. Louie had tackled him, strangled him, thrown him to the ground, but he'd stayed conscious.
Apparently, the conscious part had only lasted when Louie was around. The cop had been carried unconscious into one of Gotham's remaining hospitals.
So now Louie was hiding out in his tiny, rundown apartment, waiting for the hammer to fall. He stared out his window through his closed blinds and watched as the sun began to set. He broke away from the window and started to pace back and forth. This was stupid. Why would the bat or that other crazy killer come after him? It's not like the cop was dead. Hell, if the rumors were true the Batman had killed his own share of cops. Not only that, but he'd heard the cop he'd beaten up was on the serial killer case. That serial killing asshole owed him! The cop was good; he might've solved the case if it weren't for him…He swallowed. If he'd gone easy on the little cop he'd be up and searching for the serial killer and the Batman instead of helpless in a hospital bed.
Louie was looking out the window for the hundredth time when the front door crashed inward. He turned toward the sound as a tall man burst into the room. Louie pulled his gun with both hands, but a flash of metal came swinging towards him. He shrieked as his hands were cut off with one swoop of the other man's weapon. He stumbled backwards, pain and horror blocking his brain from any thoughts besides the instinctive need to escape. The sword was raised again and again, until even instincts abandoned him.