Earth 524
United States
Gotham
Wayne Manor
Bruce stepped back from the hearth, candle in hand, gazing at the first lit wick of the menorah. A melancholy smile tugged at the edges of his eyes and lips.
"I didn't know you were Jewish."
He turned to see his fiancée, Selina Kyle, standing at the threshold. Her caramel skin shimmering like gold in the firelight, matched in beauty only by her midnight hair and her flaming amber eyes.
"I'm not. It's... for an old friend. Should they ever decide to stop by for the holidays."
"Seems a bit odd to do that when you don't know they're coming. Anyone I know?"
"Yeah. Went to med-school with me. I can't tell you how many times we woke up drooling over our textbooks and notes."
A crisp British voice sailed gently from the kitchen.
"342, sir."
Bruce couldn't help but chuckle.
"So, who is it you're prepping for?"
"You're not going to believe me."
"Bruce, in the past two years, I have seen you first don the cape and cowl, redesign it twice, fight a giant sized cannibal with skin that could shave a balloon, and nearly get blown up by a clown at least six different times. Do I need to add my own exploits, or do you think I can handle the oh-so-secret identity of your study-buddy?"
Bruce sighed with an amused smile.
"Alright, I get your point, but I'm telling you, you won't believe me."
"Try me."
Abandoned Warehouse
Harleen Quinzel was having a hard time. Joker was on another tirade about how 'Bats' had thwarted his latest schemes.
Just the thought of that man made her blood boil. Or at least it would if her blood wasn't frozen by the Joker's anger. Or spilled by the occasional hit.
She swore up and down to Pam that he didn't hit her often. Only about once a... day. Sometimes more. Rarely less.
Okay, maybe Pam was onto something about Joker not being the best. But where else did she have to go? As much as she loved Ivy, both of them had doubts about cohabitation. Especially if J. was still around. But neither of them could kill him. It'd break Harley's poor little heart.
She'd never admit to it, but sometimes, in those fleeting moments of sanity, she wondered how her life would move forward if the Bat ever went over that line in the sand.
Thinking of the Bat with all the rest going through her mind... why did she dislike him so much? Is it because he wanted to stop the Joker? Hadn't that been why she asked to assess the Joker? It was. She wanted to analyze him, get him to trust her, and one day, maybe rehabilitate. He had once told her that he wasn't sure that the Joker could be saved, but he put his faith in her.
"I'm sure that if anyone can pull the gun from his hands, it'll be you, Harls."
Oh God.
How long had it been since she thought of him?
One year, two months, two weeks, and five days.
Why did she remember that?
Oh yeah, that's when she first joined the Joker.
She shuffled into her room. Scattered toy parts and a dusty old mattress.
She had to admit, she hated these hideouts. The rats, the dust, the mold.
Thinking about him made her think of all the times he invited her into his home for the night. The warm food, freshly made. The damn luxurious bed, set aside just for her in the guest room.
She walked over to her old steamer trunk, and pulled out a wooden box. Opening the box, she removed the polished brass menorah from its place. Reverantly, she placed the candles, and with a silent prayer, she lit the first one.
Only to choke back tears as a drip in the ceiling snuffed out the little light.
She curled into a ball on her mattress, and sobbed into her pillow.
'I'm sorry, Bruce. I'm so sorry I didn't listen.'