Chapter 2

Dr. Morgan met Bruce and Harley at the door to his office when Alfred pulled up. The MRI had thankfully revealed no serious internal injuries but it was the GYN exam that Harley was really dreading and she shook as Bruce wrapped a supportive arm around her waist and helped her walk inside.

"Doctor," Bruce said, "I appreciate you coming out tonight." He didn't add that Dr. Morgan was probably being paid enough for his time to buy himself a summer home in the south of France, but he was genuinely grateful and what was the point of being rich if you couldn't help somebody with it?

"Mr. Wayne," Dr. Morgan said sympathetically, having already been apprised to the situation by Alfred when he agreed to come in. "And, Miss…?"

"Jane," Harley mumbled, nervously gulping. It had never occurred to her that Alfred would find a male GYN for her. Shit shit shit shit shit - she began to cry again, quietly, though, and Bruce gently squeezed her good side a little tighter.

"Miss Jane," the doctor said in a very professional tone of voice, though, "I've already got an exam room set up if you'd like to come back and my nurse Karen will be assisting me tonight." He glanced at Bruce. "She is also bound by HIPAA and confidentiality laws," he said. "It's not procedure to do GYN exams without a female nurse present."

"Of course, thank you," Bruce said, although he really had no fuckin' idea, never having had a serious girlfriend who he would have accompanied to the doctor and medical procedural policy wasn't exactly relevant to his brand of crimefighting.

"Can Bruce come back with me?" Harley asked, her voice shaking as she turned up to look at the Bat, her eyes pleading with him not to send her back there alone.

Dr. Morgan hesitated. "I understand that you only wish a medical exam for injuries and not a rape kit, Miss Jane," he said, "but I do want to make sure that you understand that should you change your mind and wish to prosecute later, it will be almost impossible without the rape kit."

"I don't care," Harley said. "I'm not doin' one."

"That's fine," the doctor answered her, "and in that case, yes, Mr. Wayne may accompany you back." He sighed. "You'd unfortunately be a legal witness at the trial if you were with her during the rape kit collection and could cost her the case due to not being a medical professional," he said to Bruce. "Monstrous legal policy, not allowing women to have a friend present during their exams," he said compassionately. "If you'll follow me to the room," he said gently to Harley. "Take your time," he added, noting her numerous injuries.

He led the way down the hall as Bruce helped Harley slowly limp after him. "You don't mind staying with me?" she whispered to him.

"I don't mind," he whispered back. She gave him a sad smile as they walked into the room where a nurse dressed in scrubs was already waiting.

"This is Karen," Dr. Morgan introduced her. "And this is our patient, Jane and her friend Mr. Wayne."

"Hi," Harley mumbled.

"Hi, Jane," Karen said with so much sympathy in her voice. "We're going to step out and have you get undressed just from the waist down," she said. "And just cover up with this sheet -" she handed Harley the standard ridiculously inadequate paper exam cover that women the world over hate and Harley sighed.

"Ok," she said.

"Mr. Wayne can just let us know when you're ready," Karen said with a soft smile as she and Dr. Morgan exited the room, closing the door behind them.

Harley didn't even bother to try not to cry as she untied her pants and let them fall to the floor. Bruce's t-shirt was big on her and covered her lower area, thankfully for Bruce, since he wasn't sure anymore where to look. Harley glanced at the exam table which seemed too high to comfortably climb up on given her side injury and slight stature.

"Can you help me get up?" she asked Bruce in a shaky voice.

"Sure," he said, reaching under her armpits to lift her up and place her in a sitting position on the edge of the table. He handed her the paper napkin and helped her unfold it over her lap.

"Do you think I need to lie down yet?" she asked Bruce, glancing reluctantly at the stirrups.

"He might need to ask you some questions first," Bruce said wisely. "Might as well let them in?" Harley nodded glumly and Bruce went to get the door for the doctor and his nurse.

"All right, Miss Jane," Dr. Morgan said, coming in and shutting the door behind Karen, despite the emptiness of the rest of the office. Harley felt a little comforted by that and she appreciated that his tone was very matter-of-fact. She'd never seen a male GYN before, she didn't think, and who knows how long it even was since her last exam at this point. She sighed morosely.

"Now, Mr. Pennyworth had indicated on the phone that you may have some internal lacerations," Dr. Morgan said.

"Yes," Harley sniffed.

"What type of item made the lacerations, if you know?" the doctor asked her.

"A knife," Harley muttered. "I don't know what kind. A sharp one," said brokenly, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Bruce moved behind her to wrap an arm around her shoulders, reaching his other hand out to hold one of hers.

"I understand, Miss Jane," Dr. Morgan said kindly. "And I apologize in advance for the intrusiveness of some of these questions. I know they're intensely personal and you've been through a horrific trauma." Harley just nodded.

"And you were also penetrated by a penis?" the doctor asked her. Harley nodded again. "Vaginally?" Another nod. "Anally?" She shook her head no. "Did he use a condom, that you were aware of?" Harley snorted derisively and shook her head no. "Are you on any form of birth control?" Dr. Morgan asked her. Harley hesitated.

"I think… I think I still have the arm implants in," she said. "But I don't remember how long they've been in," she hedged, not planning to admit that she didn't even know how many years had passed since the Joker first took over her mind.

"All right," Dr. Morgan said. "I'm going to give you the morning after pill in that case, to be safe. I have some here in the office," he said.

"Good," Harley muttered in relief. Bruce rubbed her shoulders.

"Now if I can just get you to lie back, Miss Jane, and place your feet in the stirrups," Dr. Morgan said. Harley sighed and laid back. Bruce turned to face her so he wouldn't be staring at her uncovered body and she squeezed his hand tightly in hers.

"I'm here," he said, his steady eyes keeping contact with hers and Harley kept her blue eyes locked on his, feeling like they were the only thing keeping her from screaming.

"Now, Miss Jane, I'm afraid this may be painful," Dr. Morgan said to her as he adjusted his light. "I'm going to insert the speculum first to get a good look at everything, and then I'll do a manual exam. All right?"

"Uh huh," Harley grunted.

"Here's the speculum," the doctor said, sliding it in slowly. Harley hissed in pain even though he was being careful and when he opened it up she whimpered in agony. Her breaths started coming hard and her ears refused to focus on the doctor's words any longer.

Bruce's throat was tight and his eyes hot with unshed tears as he stood there helplessly, gripping Harley's hand and thinking that for the first time in his life, he felt truly powerless. He reached his other hand out and began gently stroking Harley's hair back from her face and rubbing her head.

"You're doing great," he told her as she whimpered.

"It hurts," she said.

"I know," he said futilely, thinking that he never knew until that moment how much his heart could hurt for another person. Sure, he'd cried for himself before, as an orphaned kid. But when had he ever felt so much pain and pity for another human being, he wondered to himself. It wasn't like he ever got emotionally involved with anyone he dated. Hell, he mostly dated shallow models for the mutual convenience of an easy fuck and to keep up appearances as the debonair socialite Bruce Wayne.

"All finished with the speculum," Dr. Morgan said, interrupting his thoughts. "Now for the manual pelvic exam. I'm afraid this may be more painful, Miss Jane," he said regretfully. "I do see multiple interior lacerations although thankfully they seem to have missed your cervix and that is indeed good news for your future child-bearing capacity," he said. "I do need to feel how deep some of the cuts are, though, and I'd like to do a transvaginal ultrasound afterwards to make sure nothing punctured an ovary. We have it here in the office," he added.

"Ok," Harley sniffed.

"I'm afraid I don't want to use lube for the exam," the doctor said, "due to your open wounds. Try to take deep breaths," he said to her. "I'll be as gentle as possible." When he slid his fingers in, Harley howled in pain.

"I know that hurts," the doctor said to her sympathetically. "Deep breaths," he said.

Harley's whole body was convulsing with sobs and the ragged sounds coming out of her throat were breaking Bruce's heart in ways that he hadn't even known he could break. Aside from Alfred, Bruce didn't really have many friends. Sure, he worked with Superman on occasion, but he mostly preferred keeping to himself in Gotham. Truth be told, the man of steel irritated the hell out of him most of the time.

Dick was off in Bludhaven now and he and Dick had struggled to get along once Dick grew up, anyway. Barbara Gordon, his former Batgirl - well, she was just a teenager when she'd worked with him and even though she'd been his crimefighting partner, he didn't really know anything about her life outside of their work together, aside from the fact that she and Dick had dated for awhile.

And out of all of his revolving door sex partners, Catwoman was the only one he'd fucked for longer than a month without calling it quits - and the two of them weren't even monogomous. Hell, some months they'd barely even cross paths on the rooftops and it wasn't like they knew who the other was under the masks. She was a fuck-buddy, but not even really a friend with benefits, considering they didn't spend much time talking when they did hook up.

Bruce sighed and kept rubbing Harley's head as she cried and cried, never letting up for a second on her vise-like grip on his hand. "I'm here," he kept murmuring. "It'll be over soon," he added, not knowing if it was true but figuring it had to be.

Indeed, the actual exam was hardly more than a minute, but to Harley and Bruce, it seemed to take forever. "All done," the doctor said, standing up. "And I do apologize for the discomfort, Miss Jane," he added empathetically. "We'll move on to the sonogram in a moment but why don't you sit up and I'll tell you what I've found so far," he said.

Bruce helped Harley to a sitting position as Karen gently rearranged the ineffective paper napkin over her lap. Harley reached out for Bruce and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug as she tried to stop crying so hard and he hugged her back just as tight, rubbing circles on her back as he tried to soothe her.

"The good news," Dr. Morgan said kindly as he removed and disposed of his gloves, "is that I believe your internal cuts will clot and stop bleeding on their own. I don't want you to take any baths for the next two weeks as you don't want any bacteria to get inside and cause an infection," he said. "Your cervix is intact, and I am very hopeful that your ovaries were not damaged in the attack, but I do want a sonogram just to be sure. I did a swab for a full-range of STI's," he added, "although, unfortunately, HIV can present as a false positive for up to six months from infection date, so you will need to obtain a second test at that time." Harley nodded.

"Some of these lacerations on the exterior are quite a bit deeper," Dr. Morgan said, "and I'll need to do sutures but we'll wait until after the sonogram so as not to disturb them once they're in." Harley whimpered. "Have you had your abdomen wound examined?" Dr. Morgan asked. "I see it's already been sutured."

"We had an MRI done before we came here," Bruce said. "All clear."

"Good," Dr. Morgan said wholeheartedly. "If you'd get dressed again, then nurse Karen will walk you down to do your sonogram," Dr. Morgan said, "and then she'll bring you back here for the sutures."

By the time Bruce walked Harley out of the office almost an hour later, he was shaken and drained worse than after a night of hard fighting on patrol and he knew that his state was nothing compared to Harley's. She had had to put up with a painful internal sonogram, which again showed no serious damage, for which they were grateful, but her inner and outer lacerations had made the procedure painful and then it had to be followed by the sutures which were preceded by analgesic injections into her delicate labia tissue.

Harley was practically dead on her feet by the time Bruce was tucking her back into the car and instead of sitting on the opposite side of the backseat, he sat right next to her and wrapped his arms around her as she laid her head on his shoulder, giving in to the tears more freely now that they were out of the embarrassment of the exam.

"I think ice cream is in order," Alfred said consolingly from the front seat as he drove them home. "What is your favorite flavor, Miss Harley?" he asked her.

"I don't even know anymore," Harley said wearily. "Different part, different flavor," she added in frustration and even though that comment threw Bruce, he decided to ask her about it another time.

"Well," Alfred said, consideringly, "we have a range of flavors back at the manor. Chocolate chip cookie dough, cherry, peanut butter cup -"

"That one," Harley said.

"Excellent choice, Miss Harley," Alfred said congenially. "Master Bruce's favorite."

"Oh yeah?" Harley said, smiling up at Bruce a little bit.

"Yeah," he murmured down to her.

"Do ya have whipped cream, Al?" cheerful Harley called up to him.

"Do I have whipped cream," Alfred scoffed. "Am I English? Am I a butler? Whipped cream, hot fudge and caramel, jimmies, and cherries," he said proudly. "We are the Wayne Manor, Miss Harley," he said in a haughty, grand voice, causing Harley to giggle.

"Well, I came to the right place, then," she said back to him. "For sure," she added more quietly, just for Bruce's ears, squeezing his hand which she hadn't stopped holding. He squeezed it back and snuggled her closer to him under his arm, noticing idly that he'd gone from feeling compassionately concerned when Harley first showed up a bloody mess to now feeling downright protective of her.

He supposed the horror of seeing a woman shriek in pain through a rape exam would do that to anyone with even a slightly decent soul and the fact that it was Harley Quinn, of all people, who he'd always felt sorry for deep down even when on the surface she was pissing him the hell off with Joker, made him even sadder for her.

Joker was everyone's worst nightmare, but to Harley? Bruce couldn't even begin to imagine what her life with him had been like prior to coming to her breaking point that caused her to come to her senses and leave and if tonight's gruesome butchery was any indication, living with Joker must have been pretty damn bad if it took this much to finally tip the scale back towards sanity.

Upon arriving back at Wayne Manor, Bruce carried Harley up to a guest room while Alfred parked the car with promises of ice cream sundaes to be quickly delivered. "My room's right next door if you need anything in the night," Bruce said to her as he sat her down on the bed.

"Ok," Harley said to him, exhausted. "I could use some water," she said.

"Hold on," Bruce said, walking out of the room but surprising her when he came quickly back with a glass of water.

"Is that from the tap?" Harley asked him suspiciously.

"Harley!" Bruce said in not-really-mock horror. "I don't drink Gotham City tap water," he said with a shudder. "I have a water cooler in my room," he added. "Come and help yourself if you need to in the night."

"Thanks," she said, drinking it gratefully, not realizing until then how dehydrated she'd gotten over the course of the night.

"More?" Bruce asked when she chugged it down.

"Yeah," Harley said with a smile. "Thanks." He grinned at her and came back in a moment with two glasses, sitting down in the armchair to drink his.

"What?" Harley asked a minute later, noticing his eyes regarding her softly. Bruce blinked and cleared his throat.

"You're an incredibly brave woman," he said to her with a little rasp in his voice.

"I don't feel brave," Harley muttered. "I haven't stopped crying since I got here."

"But you got here," Bruce said, shaking his head. "I can't even imagine how you managed that."

"I stole a car," Harley said, rubbing her finger on the lip of her glass. "Remembered how to hotwire one, can you believe?" she said. "I parked it a block away, didn't want the cops to find it right outside the gate," she said.

"And then you climbed over the gate to get in," Bruce said for her, "and made it up the driveway, and nearly broke my door down with Alfred's favorite planter."

"It wasn't," Harley said, horrified.

"It was," Alfred said, coming in with a tray of sundaes. "But no harm done, Miss Harley, the planter and the door are both quite sturdy and it was, in fact, a clever method of triggering the alarm," he said as he set the tray down and handed one to Harley first, followed by Bruce and then taking the third for himself.

"Well, you don't have a doorbell," Harley groused. "Or a call box at the gate. God, I wish you'd had a call box," she groaned.

"You know how many prank calls we'd get on it if we did?" Bruce said with a grimace.

"This is Gotham," Alfred sighed in agreement from the second armchair, spooning up some ice cream for himself.

"What's your flavor, Alfred?" Harley asked him, desperately needing a little bit of normal after the nightmare she'd just emerged from.

"Cherries jubilee," Alfred said with satisfaction. "We used to make this homemade as a child with cherries from the local orchard," he reminisced. "Of course nothing can ever quite compete with that memory," he smiled wistfully, "but the nostalgia is there, nonetheless."

Harley smiled at him, feeling calmer for the first time since stumbling across the threshold that night. She was patched up, she didn't have any internal injuries - "Oh, fuck, my nose," she groaned. "It's broken, isn't it?" she asked Bruce. In all of the urgency to get her knifed abdomen stitched up and examined and her GYN exam completed, they hadn't even dealt with her nose. Or black eye, which probably wouldn't be opening anytime soon.

"Looks like," Bruce said. He thought for a minute. "Honestly, Harley, you should probably get a nose job anyway."

"What'sa matta with my nose?" Harley asked imperiously, pouting at Bruce all of a sudden. He raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at Alfred. Harley knew he was picking up on her rapid switches but she was too tired to explain it now. Especially when she'd only just managed to unlock all of her non-HarleyQuinn parts for the first time since Joker had succeeded in locking them all out.

"Joker can recognize it," was all Bruce said as he picked up another spoonful of ice cream. "We can get you wigs or hair dye and colored contacts, and makeup can do a lot with good contouring, but your nose…" He looked at her. "Especially since it's broken anyway," he added. "Be a lot safer to get a new one."

"Oh," Harley said, her offense deflating just as quickly as it had sprung up. "That's a good idea," she said, sighing.

"Not for a few weeks," Bruce said. "Let's get your eye and your other injuries all healed up first."

"Ok," Harley said again with relief, because she felt like she could sleep for two weeks and the thought of being cut up again, even for cosmetic surgery, was too much to handle right now. "This is really good ice cream, Al," she added as she finished scooping up the last bits from Alfred's charmingly old-fashioned crystal ice cream goblet.

"Thank you, Miss Harley," Alfred said. "Or rather, thank Masters Ben and Jerry, to be more precise," he added with a small smile which she returned.

"Do you eat a lot of sundaes?" Harley asked him and Bruce, admiring the goblet which was probably worth a small fortune.

"Only after rough patrols," Bruce admitted.

"So you eat a lot of sundaes," Harley snorted. Bruce grinned.

"Well, what's the point of having all these muscles if not to burn off ice cream calories?" he asked her, licking his spoon. Harley giggled.

"Yes, forget fighting bad guys. That's just an excuse for more ice cream," she teased him.

"You know all my secrets," Bruce quipped, making her smile. "How did you know I was Batman?" he asked suddenly. Harley frowned, sorting through thoughts in her head.

"I saw you at some awards dinner once," she said, thinking. "As Bruce Wayne," she clarified. "Dr. Arkham and me and a bunch of the other psychologists were there, we were all getting recognized for contributing to the city, blah blah blah," she grinned. "And you for being your rich self," she winked with her good eye as she went on.

"But someone from some children's charity was up on the mic telling some terrible story about a kid who they'd helped who was being badly abused, and your table was close to ours and I saw you - you, Batman -" she clarified. "The Bat just flashed out for a minute when she was talking like somebody had thrown a switch," Harley said. "Of course I didn't really know you were Batman back then, I just knew you switched, but later when I was with the Joker and I saw you up close, I knew it was you."

Bruce was frowning. "What do you mean I switched?" he asked her.

"You switched parts," Harley clarified. "Like I do," she added when he still looked confused. "Harley Quinn? The silly one? She's a dissociative identity inside of me. I have a lot of them," Harley said. "It's a trauma disorder. You probably split when your parents got killed," she explained. "Haven't you ever noticed that you're awfully different when you're Batman?"

"I have," Alfred said. "Exactly like you say, Miss Harley, like a light switch is flipped." Bruce looked at him and then back at Harley.

"I don't -" he started to say and then he frowned some more, remembering how Harley had called the Bat forth when he was patching her up in the bathroom and how pleased she'd been when he'd come out and gotten downright cranky with her, even though a little later on he'd felt badly about it when he was feeling more like Bruce Wayne again.

"It's all you, Bruce," Harley said. "A lot of people's splits aren't that dramatic and they're co-conscious, meaning they don't lose time and they can keep track of their thoughts from one part to another pretty easily. I would guess that you're a lot more fluid than me." Bruce looked at her.

"You've seemed a lot more normal tonight," he said thoughtfully, "but sometimes, you're still her," he said, starting to piece it together.

"Yeah," Harley said. "Exactly. Joker managed to find that part during our therapy sessions and convinced her to lock all the other parts out of the system. God," she fumed, "I didn't even know I was losing time in our sessions, that clever bastard," she groaned regretfully. "But it wasn't your fault," she said out loud, looking up and away. She looked at Bruce and Alfred. "She - I - that part of me - feels guilty. For letting Joker use her like that."

"Harley," Bruce said, staring intently into Harley's eyes, clearly talking to the pigtailed-part, "you didn't let Joker do anything. He manipulates and he takes and he outwits and not even I have been able to lock him back up since he got you to let him out. It was not your fault," he told her seriously.

"Really, Brucie?" HarleyQuinn said in a tiny voice.

"Really," he said to her with full assurance.

"Really, Miss Harley," Alfred echoed. "That man is a monstrous psychopath, you're lucky to have escaped from him alive and fully aware again." Harley gave Bruce and Alfred a sweet little smile.

"Aw, guys," she said, clearly happy and feeling relieved. "And you're gonna let me live here from now on?" she asked them.

"Yes," Bruce said with no hesitation, and the look he gave her made Harley drop her eyes for a minute before lifting them back up with a little less glee and a lot more maturity in her gaze.

"Absolutely, Miss Harley, I would like to see anyone try to tear you away from us," Alfred responded.

"You are both my heroes," Harley said affectionately, holding hands out to both of them. Alfred stood to clasp one while Bruce took the other from his chair. Alfred took Harley's ice cream dish off the bed before it tipped and spilled stray drips and then took Bruce's empty one as well, adding them to the tray with his.

"And with that," Alfred said peacefully, "I shall wish you a good night, Miss Harley," he said to her. "My room is one flight up should you require anything during the night, but do wake Master Bruce and ask him to fetch me if that is the case."

"Thank you," Harley said sincerely. "Good night, Alfred," she added as he left.

"I'll let you get some sleep," Bruce told her, standing.

"Can you help me walk to the bathroom first?" Harley asked him, instead getting scooped up and carried.

"A girl could get used to this, you know," she said to him with a smile.

"I can always get you a scooter," Bruce teased her. "And install chair lifts." Harley laughed out loud.

"Get out of here and let me pee," she ordered him as he set her down, shaking her head. Once he left, however, the act itself was again horribly painful as the urine burned her cuts. Harley bit her lip to keep from crying out and tried to dab herself off with a wet washcloth to ease some of the sting once she had finished. When she came back out, Bruce could tell just by looking at her that she was feeling worse.

"Must to be nice to have your pee hole on a little wand," Harley grumbled as Bruce picked her back up.

"A little wand?" Bruce asked her, jaw dropping in offense. "A humongous wand," he sulked to her.

"Yeah, yeah," Harley grinned. "That's what they all say."

"Hmph," Bruce grumped, but his eyes were twinkling as he laid her into bed, pulling the covers up over her and carefully tucking her in. He stroked a hand over her hair. "Sleep tight, Harley," he said gently.

"You, too," she said softly. "And thank you, Bruce," she said one more time. "I mean it, you don't even know -" she started to say.

"I do," he said, wiping her tears away with his thumb. "Or," he sighed, "I can imagine," he said a little grimly.

"Yeah," Harley murmured, taking his hand in hers one last time. "Good night, Batman," she said. "There's no one I'd rather be sleeping next door to," she smiled, and Bruce knew that Harley meant it with all her heart.