AN: Own nothing, make nothing.

The confusion clawed its way up her face, followed by the horror of realisation. Her eyes darted from side to side, not wanting to settle on Dr Crane. She pulled backwards a little in surprise and his hand disappeared before Harley, gasping for breath, felt the blood retract a little into her nose with her inhale and produced a well known but terrible feeling.

"A-a-achoo!" she cried and it was a good thing people close their eyes when they sneeze.

Harley opened them to see Professor Crane standing there, in all his pompously stoic glory, sprayed with red. It was on his shirt, his tie, his jacket. It was on his face and his glasses. She couldn't help it. Harley Quinn raised her hand to her mouth but even so her loud laughter and continued snorting escaped her freely. He just stood there - stunned and that made it even more hilarious to her. As her laughter increased so did the pain. Harley fell to her knees, part crying, part laughing - but she couldn't stop. Her arms flew to her ribs but that didn't help. She glanced up at him, only to see him - despite the shock in his eyes, calmly remove his glasses and set them on the table. That wasn't helping. She wheezed in pain and she tried desperately to stop laughing all over again.

"Dr Quinzel, you're hurt!" she heard his voice say.

There was genuine concern in it.

"It's… It's nothing," she choked out between chuckles.

He took her by the hand - the bad one, and she cried out. Just as swiftly, he let go and guided her by the shoulders to a chair. He slowly peeled the coat off her and guided her onto the seat.

"Deep breaths," he instructed somewhere behind her.

All Harley could think about was whether this would have hurt her chances. He liked her, that much she knew, but the man had absolutely no sense of humour. This was also why puddin' - no, Joker, loved taunting him. He couldn't take a joke.

"Why did you not tell me, child?" he mumbled as he walked around her and knelt in front of her.

He took her hand gently this time and carefully felt, then moved the joint. Harley what he was doing but she could have told him it was a sprain. She just didn't want to stop him.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked her.

"Most places," she mumbled. "I think there's two broken ribs."

"A broken nose as well, I see," he supplied. "You will need a physician."

She looked up at him. She didn't want his pity, but she had to admit it felt nice that he seemed to give a shit.

"I can fix most myself, honest," she replied. "It's just… 'Ere look."

Not giving it much thought she yanked down the side zipper on her costume and pulled at the opening to reveal the massive bruises on her stomach. She raised her gaze to see his reaction only to find he'd covered his eyes and looked away entirely.

"Dr Quinzel," he said.

"I'm decent," she giggled.

Carefully he turned his head back and took in the damage.

"Heavens," he whispered to himself as he absentmindedly reached out, but stopped just before his fingertips would have touched her skin.

"I'll see that someone reliable is sent for," he promised her, suddenly straightening himself and standing up.

"I don't have any money," Harley carefully admitted.

Doctors willing to keep quiet didn't come cheap.

"I will handle it," said Dr Crane. "In the meantime you may rest here. You are welcome to stay as long as you need to of course."

She detected hope in his last sentence. She flashed him a smile.

"Thanks awfully, Professor Crane!"

"Come my dear," he nodded, finally smiling ever so slightly. "We will find you a place to lie down."

Harley slid the zipper back up and stood, supported on her good arm by Crane. Perhaps this wasn't exactly the way she'd imagined it would go down - but as long as the result was the same, she didn't complain. He wouldn't hurt her or rat her out, she knew that.

She slept a little - probably give or take two hours in a room on the first floor of the house. The yellowed floral wallpaper was torn and the window full of cobwebs and grime. Professor Crane had gotten her a mattress for the bed, but it wasn't like it was a comfortable rest. She needed painkillers. There wasn't much else to do. She was almost happy when her rest was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Lady?" said a man's voice on the other side.

"Yeah, come in or something," Harley called back and struggled to get up in a sitting position.

The door opened and a mousy looking woman was shoved inside by one of Crane's men.

"Boss says: She's for you," he announced but then he annoyingly kept standing there in the doorway like she was supposed to tell him 'good job' or something.

"Well, then tell 'im 'thanks and may tha sun shine out of his ass'!"

He grunted and closed the door. Harley Quinn rolled her eyes. Then again, she would not put it past him to be dumb enough to go tell the Scarecrow exactly that. That would be fun.

"What's ya name, toots?" Harley addressed the lady.

"Dr Faraway," she replied, eyeing Harley with caution.

"Right well, I have two broken ribs, a sprained wrist, a broken nose and some massive bruising to my face and abdomen," Harley explained, her voice dropping a few notes to her natural pitch.

"You're sure?" Dr Faraway as she sat down on the side of the bed.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Harley grinned, her voice jumping up again.

"Alright, let's see what we can do," the woman promised her.

A loud crash could be heard somewhere in the house. Dr Faraway jumped at the noise. Harley chuckled.

"Message delivered."

TBC