Disclaimer: This story is not written for profit, and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Thanks for all the reviews, it's good to know people are enjoying this... This one is slightly more sombre, it's the penultimate one

CHAPTER 10: HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?

"So how long have you known about Bruce?" she asked him. They were sitting one of the 37th Precinct's long benches, waiting for the cop who'd taken Harli's statement to clear her to leave. Superman's statement had been taken first, and he'd been allowed go almost immediately; Clark Kent was thus sitting on the bench next to her, waiting for someone to send her home. When he'd flown her here, all he'd wanted to do was drop her off (since it was highly unlikely that she'd run into anything she couldn't handle) but one look at the slightly upset, unhappy face and he'd felt tugged back into staying with her. There just seemed to be something about the young woman, something about the mixture of innocence and cynicism she projected that made him feel protective. It reminded him a little of Lois.

Maybe that was why Wayne felt drawn to her too.

Belatedly he realised that she'd asked him a question. "Sorry Harli?" he asked politely.

"I said," she enunciated clearly, obviously still annoyed "How long have you known about Bruce and his little… project?"

He shrugged noncommittally. He really didn't want to answer that question; telling her how long he'd known would be like admitting that she was right. And yet he couldn't think of anything which would convince her otherwise.

"I'm not going to tell anyone Clark," she said more gently. "I promise. And I keep my promises, no matter what." Her eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, and he realised she was seeing another time and place. She smiled sadly, shaking her head to herself and looking back up at him. "You and me Clark: something tells me we're very alike." Now that was a sobering thought. "We're not really like Bruce. We're pretenders, we play act our way through everything. Bruce… Bruce made himself into something, forced himself to be more than he was." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I think you and me force ourselves to be less than we could be, even in love. Especially in love."

How frightened should I be that part of me agrees with her?

Clark turned to her, partly grateful she was off the topic of Bruce and his nocturnal practices, partly curious in his own right. "You like Bruce, don't you?"

"Yeah." She sounded defensive.

"And he likes you."

"Don't know why. I'm a horrible person. I was a monster long before I met The Joker." She said this last part more to herself than anyone else.

"You don't look like a monster to me. And love makes us do the darndest things." Why was he trying to comfort her? "Maybe you should remember that." Love could make you want things you shouldn't want, endanger people you care about. Love could make you dream of breaking up a happy home headed by a man you liked and respected. Love could make you want to execute a man in cold blood…

"True love, what a concept." The young woman sat back, scraping her long white hair off her face. "The Italians called it sincere amore, love you never have to question. No choices, no thinking, it just is."

"Yes." He bowed his head, unconsciously mirroring her.

"And what do you do when it's over and it hasn't worked out? What do you do after happy ever after?" She laughed mirthlessly. "How the hell do you survive everlasting love?"

"You don't." There, he'd said it. You didn't survive love like he and Lois had shared, how could you? And was it even really love if you could? No, he had resigned himself to the fact that he'd live his life alone, however long it might be.

She blinked up at him. "Nuh-uh! Of course you survive it!" She was staring at him like he was crazy. Again, a somewhat sobering reaction considering the source. "Do you really think that anything can be served by killing yourself over something you can't change? You just keep on trucking Clark, you have to!" She got up suddenly, began to pace. "I nearly got killed tonight, you know why? Because my ex has trouble letting go. The sonofabitch really thought he was just going to turn up and everything would be hunky dory again, that all would be forgiven. But it wasn't, because things won't ever go back to the way they were."

Clark was startled by the vehemence of her reaction. "But what about sincere amore?" he stammered.

"What about it? If you never have to question something, you never value it. You never change or grow. That's what life's about, that's why that kind of love is so very dangerous. Trust me on this Clark, true love always comes with a body count attached!"

He thought about him and Lois. How many people had he failed to save for her, how many times had she been hurt, because of her association with him? Harli might be crazy, but her analysis was apt. That kind of love seemed to create chaos.

Great, he thought, now I'm depressed and guilty.

"Do you think you know everything, Clark?" she asked suddenly.

"No, of course not."

"Good, me neither." She sat back down, her brow furrowed in deep thought. "So doesn't it stand to reason that if we don't know everything then we don't know what the future holds? That we don't know how everything is going to turn out?"

"Yeees," he said carefully, wondering where she was going with this.

"Then maybe there's more in store for us than the fuzzy end of love's lollypop. Maybe, maybe…" she looked straight at him "Maybe we just have to have faith."

"But I know what future lies before me," he muttered, chagrined. "I'm here to help, and save humanity; I have a destiny I can't ignore, and it means I have to give up the things and the people I love."

Oh yeah, way to go! Try convincing her you're not Superman now.

"Says who?" she asked bluntly.

"Says, says… says my father," he answered, aware of how lame that answer sounded. "I'm not supposed to influence history-"

"Then you shouldn't have come here at all! The universe is chaos, Clark: all our actions have consequences we can't foresee. Every day you're here you're influencing history. So am I, so's Bruce, so is everyone. 'Cept they don't feel guilty about it!" There was a light in her eyes, like she was figuring out something very important. "I feel guilty about what I did while I was with Mr. J. I should do, I've done… I've done some really terrible things. And I'll take responsibility for them. But I don't feel guilty just because I'm here, and truth is, neither should you."

"I've created chaos, hurt," he said softly, tightly. This burden was his alone, he guarded it so jealously. "I should make amends."

"Then do it by living among us. By being one of us."

"I'm not one of you."

She smiled, a small, innocent smile. "Guilty, thoughtless, occasionally foolish. Loving, strong. You sound like one of us to me."

He opened his mouth to respond and nothing came out. She took his hand. "Eventually, Clark, everyone has to stop living for their father. Everyone has to choose their own path. It's called leaving home. And it's a bitch, but ya gotta do it." She squeezed his hand. "Come join us in the 21st century, Clark: I promise it's tropically sunny and occasionally terrifying."

He didn't know what to do, except smile a little and look back at her. Could she possibly be right, crazy as she was? Could she-

"Am I interrupting something?" Bruce's voice intruded. The Gothamite wasn't looking pleased: he was staring angrily (jealously?) at their joined hands.

"Not at all Bruce, I was just explaining the finer points of love to Clark here."

Suddenly Clark realised that this domestic squabble would be far nastier than the one with The Joker. "I just bet you were."

"Brucie, you got something to say then spit it out, cos I've had a long night and I've got no tolerance left for crap."

"Thought your time with The Joker would've helped with that."

"And you'd know all about dating crap: how's Vicki Vale these days?"

"Still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist."

"Still a storm in a double D cup, you mean."

"That's such an adult response, Harli."

"And glaring at me like a high school jock who's girlfriend is cheating isn't?"

"I was worried about you!"

"And I was worried about you!" she snapped back. "I didn't know what happened to you while I was on that roof! I thought Luthor might have killed you while I was taking care of business! And then what do you do?" She dropped Clark's hand and stood up, rounding on Bruce. "You treat me like some two bit criminal's moll! I paid my debt to society Bruce, and they cleared me to live on my own, but I'll always be Jack Napier's sloppy seconds to you, won't I?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

""I didn't think you'd know what it was like on this side things, Quinzel,"" she mimicked. "You sarcastic-"

"It was a joke, Harli!"

"You didn't think I'd cooperate with the authorities. You thought you'd have to knock me unconscious, didn't you?" She stood back, hands on her hips. "Or was it that you hoped you'd have to, hmm?"

"I didn't think you'd cooperate because I know something you don't!"

"Which is?" God she sounded like Lois. Bruce glanced nervously at Clark. "Whatever it is you can say it in front of Clark," she said tartly.

"Fine!" he snapped. "I thought you mightn't cooperate because you haven't been taking your meds."

Whack! For someone so small, Miss Quinzel had one helluva right hook.

"I take my meds every day Bruce! I can show you the bottles-"

"That's not what I meant." She went to swing again and he blocked her, grabbing her wrist. He took her shoulders, and belatedly Harli seemed to register that this was serious. "Harleen, do you remember Dr. Costas? He objected to your release." She nodded numbly, clearly confused. "The Joker bribed him into giving you the wrong meds. You've been taking nothing but placebos for the last month." She gasped. Clark realised he would not want to be The Joker if she ever got her hands on him. "That's what Ivy warned me about. That's why she called me. She… She wants you to have another chance."

"But, but… I did everything I was supposed to do," she whispered, sounding suddenly lost. "I haven't hurt anyone... with hair... I said no to Jack." She turned, wide-eyed, to Bruce "I wasn't medicated?"

He shook his head. "No, you did it on your own."

A joyful, nervous smile split her face. "I did it on my own? I said no to him, I didn't torture Luthor, on my own?"

He nodded, apparently relieved that she was taking this so well. He's not the only one, Clark thought.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked timidly. The eye she'd punched was beginning to blacken already, but he didn't seem to notice. She nodded, equally timidly, smiling. Both Harleen Quinzel and the mighty Batman were… blushing?

Oh dear God, Clark thought: let them have a thing. Please God let them have a thing. For everyone's sake.

Next one's the last one, so enjoy!