The twins were sobbing loudly, and Harley was trying not to burst into tears herself. She shushed them, bouncing them gently as she searched desperately in her purse for some loose change. "I know you wanna be fed, babies, and you will be, just as soon as Mommy finds the rest of her quarters," she muttered, raking her hand around haphazardly.
"Can I help?" asked a voice. Harley turned to see a young man standing behind her, holding out several quarters. "I know how rare it is to have change these days."
"Thanks," said Harley, smiling at him as she took the quarters and shoved them into the slot on the washing machine. She pressed the button and set the cycle spinning, and then took a seat on top of the machine and tried to arrange her top so she could breastfeed the babies discreetly without exposing herself to the stranger.
"Don't worry, I'll just come back to do my laundry later," said the man, turning away.
"No, I don't wanna drive you away…I mean, I'm not uncomfortable if you're not," said Harley. "The apartment basement is a public space after all…"
"I'll stay, but keep myself turned around, how about that?" asked the man, turning his back to her. "Good compromise."
"Thanks," repeated Harley, pulling her top down and letting the twins feed.
"You're new here, aren't you?" asked the man, as he loaded his laundry into the machine opposite hers.
"Yes, I just moved in yesterday," said Harley. "And I'd like to apologize if you're a neighbor of mine – I know the babies can be noisy at all hours…"
"I haven't heard anything, don't worry," he interrupted. "Anyway, I think you've got your hands full without worrying about what your neighbors think."
"Yeah, but I'm the kinda person who's always apologizing," said Harley. "I always assume things are my fault, so it's just kinda a natural reaction."
"Oh gosh, I do that too!" laughed the man. "I call it Sidekick Syndrome! Not that I'm anyone's sidekick, but I've never really seen myself as the hero of my own story – I feel like I have to constantly apologize for taking up space in other people's."
"I know the feeling," said Harley, nodding. "I think Sidekick Syndrome is a good way to describe it. Not that I'm anyone's sidekick either…"
Tears came to her eyes, and she wiped them away hurriedly. But the thought of the Joker was always there, and any reminder of him was always very painful.
"Have you been in Metropolis long?" asked the man, as he started the washing machine.
"No, I just moved here," said Harley. "I came from Gotham, and Metropolis is a nice change, as you can imagine. You guys get a lot more sun than I'm used to."
"What did you do in Gotham?" asked the man.
"I was a psychiatrist," said Harley. "I mean, I was before…I got pregnant. When you got kids, you get enough craziness around the house without seeking it outside!" she laughed.
He laughed too. "I imagine good psychiatrists are in high demand in Gotham, if what I hear about there is true," he said. "If it is true, you were probably smart to leave there anyway."
"Yeah, well…I left for…personal reasons," said Harley, slowly. "Kinda a long story…I won't bore you with it. Suffice it to say that…we're not going back in the foreseeable future. So I'd better start getting used to that Metropolis sun, and your resident alien. I'm sure he's preferable to our local vigilante."
"Oh yeah, Superman's a cool guy," agreed the man. "Very friendly if you see him out and about – never too busy to give you a smile and a wave. The only person who doesn't like him is Lex Luthor – probably jealous of his popularity or something. I mean, Luthor's approval ratings while he was president weren't great, so there's probably some lingering resentment there."
"Yeah, I hear Lex has got a lot of problems," agreed Harley, nodding. "My best friend used to date him, and she says he's not very impressive as a man, if you get what I'm saying. She says it explains a lot about him, and it does make sense from a psychological viewpoint that he's always compensating for something. Still, he owns a nice apartment complex. We don't have anything like this in Gotham – it's either cramped, rundown blocks of tiny apartments, or the spacious ones that only a few rich people can afford. I know Bruce Wayne's talked for years about improving the housing situation in Gotham, but he's not the most effective businessman, and anything he tries is usually ruined almost immediately by the supercriminals or the Batman. At least Superman usually handles crime without making the situation worse, but the same can't be said of Batman."
"Well, we don't have the same kinda supercriminals here that they do in Gotham," said the man. "Those people are crazy. That Joker guy in particular – total lunatic."
"Yeah," agreed Harley, tears coming to her eyes again. "Yeah, he is."
She kissed Arleen and J.J. tenderly as they unlatched from her, yawning and curling up again. "All done," said Harley, as she pulled up her top. "I'm sorry about taking your change – I usually have some on me, but the twins make a lotta messes, as you can imagine, and I underestimated how many loads of laundry I'd need to do in such a short space of time. Plus I have…pets."
"You sound like you have your hands full," said the man, turning to her and smiling. "Would you let me treat you to dinner tonight? I'll bring something over and take it away with me, so you won't have to cook or clean up. Assuming their father doesn't mind, of course," he added, nodding at the twins.
"Oh, their father and I are…separated," said Harley. "It's just me on my own now, so I'm grateful for any help."
"It's settled then," said the man, smiling at her. "Can I carry that for you?" he asked, as Harley tried to gather up the laundry detergent and basket.
"Thanks," repeated Harley. "I'm just upstairs so you won't have to carry it far."
"Oh, hang on just one second," said the man, as they stopped in the lobby on the way up. He grabbed a newspaper from the front desk and tucked it under his arm. "I'm a photojournalist, so I like to keep on top of the news," he explained, glancing at it. "Looks like that insufferable hack Jack Ryder has another sordid scoop."
"He is an insufferable hack," agreed Harley. "And he doesn't respect women at all. The stories I could tell you…"
She trailed off as she saw the front page headline: Joker's Sex Worker Spree – Newly Single Clown Prince gets Down and Dirty with the accompanying photographs Ryder had taken, showing the Joker embracing the two prostitutes.
"You ok?" asked the man, studying her. "You look kinda pale…"
"I'm fine," said Harley, forcing a smile. "Just a little headache. This is me here," she added, when they reached her apartment door. "I really appreciate all the help, and I'll repay you for those quarters…" she added, unlocking the door and hurrying inside.
"Uh…you didn't tell me your name," he said, handing her the basket and detergent.
"Sorry, it's Columbina," said Harley. "Columbina Delart. Nice to meet you, Mr…"
"Olsen," said the man. "Jimmy Olsen. Please call me Jimmy - everyone does."
"Jimmy," repeated Harley. "Do you mind if I keep the paper?" she asked, holding out her hand. "It's my only window to the outside world cooped up in here with the kiddies."
"Not at all, I'll grab another one," he said, handing it to her. "See you later, Miss Delart."
"Yeah, see ya," agreed Harley, shutting the door on him and fixing her eyes on the paper. She let out a sigh of relief as she recognized the women in the Joker's embrace. "Good plan, puddin'," she murmured. "Val and the girls will help us out. Good thing I trust your Daddy, babies," she added, putting Arleen and J.J. down on the floor where Bud and Lou instantly began playing with them. "Any other woman in the world would explode over this. Only I'm crazy enough not to care when I see my man hanging around with hookers."
She scanned the story, but it didn't contain any actual information – it was all speculation and rumors on Ryder's part. "But then that's really all the news is these days," Harley sighed. "Still, if that nice guy who gave me the quarters is a photojournalist, there have to be some good people still left in the profession, I guess. Unless he was offering to help just to get into my pants, but I didn't get that vibe from him."
She tore out the clearest photograph of the Joker and taped it to the wall. "And it's not that I don't trust you to handle this, puddin', of course I do," she continued, talking to it. "But it's only been a day and I'm already going crazy just sitting around here waiting for you to take care of this."
She shook her head. "Harley, you little idiot," she muttered, putting on Joker's voice. "Don't you have enough to do watching the kiddies? I don't want you putting yourself or them in any danger! But puddin', I can help!" she insisted, in her regular voice. "I know I can! You're already worn out, you useless brat, that's why you're talking to yourself like this," she added in Joker's voice. "Don't risk breaking your brain any more than it already is. Just stay here and relax! Not gonna happen, puddin'!" she snapped. "I ain't relaxing until I'm back with you! There's gotta be something I can do to help reunite us, while also not risking my or the kiddies' safety."
She thought hard for a moment, and then snapped her fingers. "I can do research! Whoever is out to get us has gotta bear a grudge against you for some crime you've committed, and who keeps an entire record of your crimes? Newspapers, of course! You're using the gals to get info for you, and I can use the photojournalist to get info for me! As long as I make up some convincing story – can't tell him the truth like I assume you told Val. But it's like you always say – a good story is more convincing than the truth, especially if you want people to help you out. And who's more in need of help than a poor single mother?"
She smiled at the twins, picking them up and kissing them. "Don't worry, babies. We'll be back with your Daddy sooner rather than later. I promise."