Wind swept past her face and hair as a dull note of pain resounded in the back of her mind. Her thoughts were not of the pain, nor even of the blood that poured out of the hole in her stomach – she found herself instead thinking, albeit ironically, about how very lucky she was. 'I've lived a fortunate life' she thought to herself, and her lips curled just a touch into a smile. She conceded herself then to death, closed her bright blue eyes, and blacked out, avoiding the crushing pain she knew would come when her soft body smacked against the vicious pavement below that was Gotham's legendary streets.

The first thing she felt was warm. Not an uncomfortable warm, but more like the warmth she imagined a child must feel when inside its mother's womb. She was comfortable – a feeling she never expected to feel again, and she wondered, is this what death is like? It was dark, she couldn't see anything and realized slowly her eyes were closed. They felt too heavy to open, and so she stayed still, listening. There was soft music, she couldn't make out the sounds exactly – just the faint melody. She thought perhaps she heard a flute, but couldn't be sure. Do angels play flutes? She asked herself.

The second thing she felt was pain, and this startled her. It was a deep aching in her abdomen, an uncomfortable sting with each breath she took, and Harley mused to herself that if she were in Heaven, there would surely be no pain. She decided then that she must either be in Hell, or purgatory – though she had never been sure she believed in either of those places.

The third thing that came to her was the sound of soft voices, whispering, or perhaps just too far from her to make out the words. She could tell they were male, and that one of them had an accent. That's strange, she thought and as she did her other senses began to flood back. A chill ran down her spine, interrupting the security she had felt from the warmth. The ache in her abdomen seared, and she whimpered softly. The voices stopped, and were shortly thereafter replaced with footsteps.

"Alfred, I think she's awake. Please fetch some water."

"Yes, sir." The accented voice responded, and then more footsteps.

"Harley?" A deep voice, a man's voice, was suddenly at her ear. She scrunched her face, gave another soft groan, and then tried to open her eyes.

The lights were dim, but seemed bright at first, and she had to blink a few times to put the colors, shadows, and lights into focus. The walls were a dark gray, and she soon realized they were stone. All around her they stretched, and high above her head.

"You're awake. Good. How do you feel?"

"Dead." She responded, in a raspy voice she did not recognize as her own. The word had flowed from her mouth before she had even had time to think it, and it was only now that she lolled her head to the right, to see who was speaking to her.

The dark mask came into her vision like something out of a nightmare, the pointed ears sticking off the top of his head like horns. She breathed in a deep and unsteady breath, and when she released it she breathed the only word that screamed inside her head.

"Batman."

"Yes Harley. You're with me, in the batcave. I had to take you here to receive medical care, I was afraid you weren't going to make it."

"Why…" Harley said, her voice a whisper as she struggled to speak with a parched throat. "Hospitals-"

"I'll explain in time." He cut her off, just as an older man returned holding a glass of water. He passed it to the batman, who passed it to Harley, who grasped it with shaky hands and then gulped it down as if it were the entire essence of life itself. When she drank the last drop, she gave a sigh of relief. The butler left, and Harley was once again alone with The Batman.

"I don't understand." She said after a period of silence. "Why have you brought me here? Why am I not dead? Or in Arkham?"

She placed her hands on either side of herself on the couch she was laid on, and tried to push herself to a sit up instead of lean. She grimaced and bit her lip, and the Batman reached over, laying large strong hands on her sides and pulling her gently up so that she was sitting more upright. It was then that Harley noticed the thick white bandages wrapped around her midsection, and that her costume was missing, in its place a black robe hid her body from sight. She realized with some trepidation that this meant the Batman must have undressed her, and seen her naked. Her heart jumped a little into her throat, but she swallowed it with one hard gulp and pushed the thought from her mind.

"Harley, I know this will be hard for you to understand. Over the past few years, ever since you began to run with the Joker and his cronies, I've watched you suffer time and time again at his hands. Arkham has tried to help you time and time again, rehabilitation has been so close so many times, but always you crumble back into the Joker's dark arms and end up in a darker place than you were before. It sounds ridiculous but… I feel responsible for the darkness the Joker has wrought upon you. I should have seen it happening when he was twisting your mind in Arkham. I should have stopped him so long ago. This last time… well, I believe he did what he did because of something I said in interrogation. I couldn't throw you back into the system, I couldn't lock you up in Arkham again. I need to try myself to see if I can help you."

His speech was simple, but it sounded winded in Harley's ears. When he stopped talking she locked her blue eyes on him and simply stared. She couldn't think straight enough to answer such a revelation, and so she said nothing at all. The Batman was also silent then, and they stayed that way for a while, letting the stillness of the air and silence of the room wrap around them like a thick blanket on a cold day. When Harley did finally speak, she found her voice shaky and soft, and fear swirling in the pit of her stomach.

"And if you can't save me?" She asked. The Batman lifted his head, and she knew that behind that dark mask his eyes were locked on hers.

"Let time be the judge of that." His dark voice said, reverberating in her ears. She was quiet again for a moment, and then swallowed hard before asking the question she most ached to ask.

"…Joker… is he…"

"Escaped. He took off when I jumped off the building after you fell. I saved you from the pavement, but he eluded me." His jaw clenched, his body stiffened.

Harley nodded slowly, and her stomach twisted even as her heart leapt at the news.

"Would you like some more water?"

"Yes… please."

He took her glass and rose to his feet, walking off and leaving Harley alone for a moment. She stewed then, her head swirling with thoughts both good and bad – ones she couldn't control and ones she forced herself to think. It was in this moment of meditation that a thought occurred to her, and when The Batman returned and handed her the now full glass of water, she turned her blue eyes to him and spoke without thought or manner.

"You continue to hide your face from me. You think you will fail."

He stood still, and was quiet, perhaps looking at her but it seemed more likely he was looking through her. She began to think he was not going to respond as the minutes ticked by, and she began to feel foolish for even making such an unnecessary remark, when the unthinkable happened.

His dark gloved hand reached up and gripped the mask. In one fluid motion he pulled it from his face, revealing a handsome dark haired man underneath, with brown eyes as serious and dark as the night sky. Harley's heart felt as if it stopped beating entirely, and for a moment she was too stunned to think who he was, but a name crept into her mind from somewhere in the recesses of her subconscious and it slipped off her lips like a whisper that shouldn't have been uttered.

"Wayne…"

"Failure is not a choice here. You know now, I am dedicated to this. I am dedicated to you."

Harley gazed up at the man with his square jaw set so firmly, and his pale skin which contrasted his dark attire, and she felt a bit like Pandora, and knew there was no going back from the box she had now opened.