AN: Nothing owned, nothing gained.

The door was locked. Harley knew he was in there of course. Did the man ever do anything but advanced potion-brewing? Harley Quinn kicked the door in frustration and pouted. He'd have heard that, but he didn't do anything.

'What a cold fish,' she thought.

Honestly it should have been easier than this. How was she supposed to become a master criminal if he wouldn't even let her in on what he was doing? Of course it didn't take much guess work. Gas this. Study that. The man was not creative. She could help. Where was he planning to strike though? Harley sighed and blew a stray hair out of her face. She wasn't wearing her costume, mostly because it needed a wash. Not that any of the men here knew how. Maybe Crane did, he managed to look pretty presentable overall but she wasn't going to ask him to iron her suit. These new threads were hopelessly frumpy. Harley didn't like to think about where they'd gotten them.

Her arm was still in a sling - though after two weeks it was perfectly fine. She'd just kept it on as long as she could for sympathy points. The bruising on her stomach was still visible, and the ribs had not yet healed - but the meds helped a great deal. She had a nice one on her cheek which had almost faded away now. She was getting restless. Crane ignored her for most of the day - clearly obsessed with whatever he was doing in there but she'd lapped up his sympathizing looks whenever he did come out.

The lock suddenly turned.

"How do you do this evening, Dr Quinzel?" said Dr Crane as he stepped outside and locked the door behind him before Harley could sneak a peek.

The jovial tone of his voice was surreal as he was in full costume, mask and all.

'So he's going out, huh?' Harley thought to herself.

"Okay, all dandy and so on," She smiled, pulling at her pigtail. "Where' we off to?"

The Scarecrow paused.

"I have some small business to attend to. I am leaving Maximillian and Thomas behind to attend to any needs you may have."

"Aww, professor," Harley softly pleaded, as she tilted her head. "Let me come with ya! I can help!"

"That is very kind of you, my dear. However, you are still injured and I would not dream of putting your health at risk."

"But I'm all bettah!" Harley swore to him. "Promise! See?"

She removed her arm from the sling and wiggled her hand at him.

"Just let me help! I'm bored! I'm dyin' here!"

Harley made a few choking sounds and stumbled deliberately into the Scarecrow, almost 'fainting' dramatically before him, had he not held her up by the shoulders.

"Now, now, Dr Quinzel, I promise you I am delighted to have you here but it is simply not possible tonight," he explained in a kind - slightly nervous, tone.

Still she could tell his delight at having her around was genuine. This did not make sense. There were so many men in Gotham who would jump at the chance to work with her - sans Joker. She knew he'd always had some kind of thing for her - then why wasn't he making any move on her? Or trying to spend time together? Not that she really wanted to hang around him, ranting about fear and chemistry and how brilliant his work was, but she didn't take kindly to being ignored when she was putting her best foot forward. She stomped said foot in annoyance. Dr Crane did not comment upon it.

"I wish you a pleasant evening," he said shortly and walked down the corridor.

He was unsightly this way. Honestly, Harley had never cared much for his alter ego. It amplified every 'weirdness' about his body and made it grotesque. Sure, he wasn't much to look at. An unusually tall, bony and long limbed person with a nerdy look. His costume however made his limbs seem inhumanly proportioned. Like with orangutans. He seemed taller too - and stronger, since the layers of fabric made him slightly less bony to look at.

The Joker was strong. Some of the villains were straight up monsters. Batman was basically 90% muscle and 10% bitchface. If Crane could go out and face up against that, then Harley Quin could too and probably do twice the he thought she couldn't do it? Hah, she'd show him! Where was the rule that said she couldn't start out small? She wasn't exactly popular enough in the Scarecrow's camp yet to make any of his men go with her, but she could do a light comedy routine. She had a lot of good material that the Joker had never let her use.

Slipping out was easy-peasy. She wasn't exactly being watched. Her suit was not in the best shape but the darkness that was rapidly coating the city obscured had stolen a set of car keys from one of the remaining men and wiggled into the driver's seat of the old rusty machine. With a loud 'Weeeeeee' she turned the key and sped down the street full speed.

The car zigzagged down the road and towards Gotham city centre. Harley bounced with joy. What should she do? Tonight she could do anything she wanted! She didn't have any weapons but Harley Quinn was a great improviser. She parked the car in an alley on the outskirts of the city centre and strolled casually out into the nightlife, humming cheerily to herself.

The key was to not draw too much attention. The Scarecrow stood hunched over one of the crates, as some of the hired help picked the lock on a fairly simplistic safe. Jonathan Crane consulted the books again. It should be here. He reverently lifted the chemical out once he saw it. If he'd allowed himself to dwell upon it, he would have understood that part of why he relished this so - even though it was only a burglary of a business producing insecticides, was his increasing unease about Harley Quinn lounging in his hideaway. He was not a fool. It didn't matter how badly it had gone. Time and time again he had witnessed her running back to that clown. It would happen again - or the Joker might need her for something. Regardless of who was initiating, he knew it was only a matter of time before he had the Joker at his door - and Dr Crane admitted, despite the humiliation, that it would undoubtedly end with the madman ruining his precious work. Something about Dr Crane always seemed to really bring out the bully in the Joker - not that he in general was considerate of the work of other people.

He had planned everything carefully. It was a huge risk. Normally he would simply have either stolen all the chemicals he could want at once - or found a way to raise the funds needed to purchase them. It attracted the attention of Batman. This time Scarecrow had been patient. Many small burglaries of various seemingly unconnected businesses. Always making it look like an ordinary break in and never taken more than what could go unnoticed. With several of the Arkham inmates at large, he knew Batman would likely prioritise the grander crimes.

"Hurry, you imbeciles!" he cried at the men, just as they finally got the safe opened.

"Take what you will, we must depart!"

They exited through the backdoor, which was technically no longer attached to the doorframe. The Scarecrow ran to the escape vehicle and reached it just as a light flashed across the overcast night sky. He paused and waited for the tremendously loud bang that followed only a few seconds after. It wasn't thunder. It was that abominable clown, he was sure of it. It was not happening this side of town but whatever had occurred lay somewhere between him and the safehouse.

"Timothy, get behind the wheel," he commanded.

Just what he needed. The bat would be patrolling the very neighbourhood he would have to pass through. They'd have to keep away from the action as best they could. Tim put the car in gear and sped down the street while Crane howled protestations at him. They had to be careful. The car slowed down to a reasonable pace and with every man but Scarecrow himself tense enough to be a bowstring, they drove through the deserted streets. He kept a trained eye on their surroundings. Any moment now they might come across the bat or the clown.

Imagine Dr Crane's surprise when, a little ways further down the street, a swivel chair suddenly burst through the glass front of a store, landing on the street in front of them. Tim hit the brakes. A figure climbed out of the jagged hole in the display window, landed softly on her feet and began awkvardly jogging away from them - cluthing her chest and a bag, with pearls, bracelet and tiaras dangling on her arms and fabric-enclosed pigtails.

"Uhh, boss? Isn't that…?" Tim observed.

"Do be quiet and get us around that thing!" Scarecrow hissed.

He wasn't entirely sure what his plan would be but Harley Quinn was heading straight for the danger zone, squealing happily as she went.

"Who's tha best? H-A-R-L-E-Y! Give us a cheer!"

She could feel her ribs - definitely, but she was too excited to care.

"Come on, Gotham! Lemme hear ya! Ha! Like takin' jewels from a baby!"

So she kept cheering herself on as she fled the scene. If her puddin' were here he'd be so proud of her! Not that she cared! She was great at this all on her own! Professor Crane was bound to see just how capable she was and he'd definitely let her help him out for sure now. Then it was only a matter of time before Harley could move to the big bad not-anybody's-sidekick league! She rounded a corner, then took another turn and saw several figures running towards her from the other end of the street. The sound of maniacal laughter grew louder and louder as they approached. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Well, well, well," said a voice that made her heart beat increase. "Is that you, precious?"

Harley smiled and opened her mouth to say something, then shut it with a sudden look of determination and opened it once again to say:

"Hiya, puddin' . Gee, I'd love tha stay an' chat but I'm awful busy."

She made a move to walk around them.

"Aww, Harley , not a minute to spare even for me? I can see you've been very busy. Is that a present for me?" The Joker said ominously softly.

"No it aint, Mistah J! This is a Harley Quinn operation!" Harley countered.

"What a shame," he replied and took a step closer to her. "I've missed you. The hyenas miss you too."

"Y-ya have?" Harley smiled.

"Of course I have!" The Joker nodded. "Do you know, I've never seen anything as beautiful. How could I let it go?"

"Ya really mean it?" she asked, her pigtails bouncing with joy.

"I'm taking you home," he said and expertly snatched the bag from her.

Harley blushed scarlet. She felt light as a butterfly, like everything was going to be right in the world - like she'd just been bashed over the head with a bag full of jewelry. She fell roughly to the ground. Her head was spinning and her chest was on fire. Through the blurriness she heard him yell:

"Let's split boys! Leave her to Batman!"

She screamed in frustration. Probably not the wisest decision if Batman was really around, but she wasn't thinking clearly.

'Rat! That lousy son of a… Why are you such an idiot, Harley?'

Tears ran down her face as she tried to sit up. A dark figure was approaching her.

"Harley?"

She knew that deep voice. She knew what it meant. Straight back to Arkham to rot in a cell with a perfect view of Poison Ivy's I-told-you-so face. She couldn't take it.

Crash.

It hit the sidewalk between them. Broken glass jingled across the ground.

'Oh my God. What is that?'

It was foul. She wheezed and gasped for air. Batman was coughing, hunched over, desperately trying to cover his face. It was horrible. Like sticking your face in a bucket of bleach. She crawled along the sidewalk tiles, hacking and spitting. A shadow appeared in front of her.

"No! P-please!" she coughed.

She couldn't go back. Not like this.

The shadow swiftly picked her up in its arms and, despite her protests, disappeared into the darkness once more.

TBC