AN: I do not own these characters or this universe.

Harley woke up as she tried to turn onto her side and found she couldn't. She felt warm and snug. Her head and chest felt awful - something cool and soothing was on her forehead.

'They restrained me,' her inner voice said

She did not want to open her eyes. She knew what it would look like. It was not the first time she'd gone into Arkham in a less than conscious state. Did they drug her? Harley tore through her memories. She remembered vaguely that she'd been taken when some sort of chemical had almost taken her out. She remembered struggling. Being put into some sort of vehicle. She definitely remembered kicking one of them in the face. Then blackness.

The police didn't carry syringes full of sedatives and tranquillisers. Maybe it was the fumes? She exhaled slowly. As long as she didn't open her eyes, she didn't have to see those padded walls and concrete ceilings. Still, she'd never been this snug at Arkham. The blankets there were rubbish. There was no one talking near her - the doctor's wouldn't have left her alone. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open.

'This isn't Arkham.'

"Well, duh," she whispered to herself as she took in the wooden ceiling, the yellowed wallpaper and lastly the scarf that had been used to tie her midsection to the bed.

It was tied around the bedcovers, into which she had been carefully rolled. Harley wiggled her arms free and immediately undid the tie. How could she be here? The last thing she remembered was getting cornered by the squares. Had she been? Harley Quinn suddenly wasn't so sure. Professor Crane had gotten her somehow. Wait…

It dawned on her. She crawled out of the bed - which was a difficult thing to do as she'd been awfully comfortable, and rubbed her temples to ease the headache. Her suit still had obvious traces of grime from the road. On the small bedside table she found to her astonishment that a small pile of jewelry lay. She took one look at it, picked it up in her hands and went for the door, pushing it open with her hip.

He delicately placed the vials into the foam-lined box. Side by side, in order. It was a wonderful thing that repetitive, careful tasks seemed to calm and focus him. He suspected he'd be shaking, did it not. He closed the box. Jonathan Crane prided himself in being a man of method. According to himself - as opposed to his assigned psychiatrist, his work was free from emotion, temper and irrationality. He was a man of science.

There was noise in the hallway. She had to be awake. It made very little sense to Dr Crane. Why? Why would a bright young woman such as Harleen Quinzel degrade themselves to nonsense, petty violence and buffoonery? She was… A distraction.

Not to mention she had been behaving rather oddly. Never had she seemed so interested in his work. Never had his company been able to engage her for this long. She might very well still be missing the excitement the Joker provided. He was a poor entertainment substitute he feared. Dr Crane sighed. He could not allow himself to be derailed by her presence. He had work to do but wherever either of those clowns went, chaos was sure to follow. A certain side of him felt he should have never let her make herself so comfortable here, but he dismissed it. Jonathan knew perfectly well there was no world in which he could have cast her out to fend for herself. It had already cost him. He found he preferred to live with that.

"P-professor?" he heard her soft voice say from the doorway.

Crane looked up to find her standing there, a nervous smile on her face, a pile of jewels stacked in her cupped hands.

She stood there for a few seconds. She then walked forwards a little and placed the jewelry on top of one of Crane's notebooks. She looked back up at him only to find him watching her again with that clinical look in his eyes. In the next minute she had wrapped her arms around him and squeezed with all her strength.

"Thanks! Thank you, 'Fessor Crane!"

Professor Crane went rigid in her arms, gasping for air.

"D-dr… Dr Quinzel... " he pleaded only just barely audibly. "P-please..."

Harley Quinn paid no attention to anything he said and released him - breathless and horrified, only when she felt like it.

"Ya didn't have tha come for me," she said. "But ya did."

"Well," replied Dr Crane as he smoothed the new creases in his suit jacket and shot her wary looks. "I imagine anyone would… That is… Truly, Dr Quinzel, there is no need."

"H-he wouldn't 'ave," Harley countered quietly.

"No, I did witness part of your exchange."

She jumped up onto the table, sitting on top of his papers and ignoring the slight frown on his face.

"Ya think I'm stupid, don't ya?" said Harley and she looked at her own legs dangling back and forth. "I guess I deserved that. I shouldn't have believed 'im."

"Do not be ridiculous, child."

"But I am!" Harley objected. "That's the fun in it!"

Dr Crane sighed, tapped her knee with his finger and pointed sternly to the floor. Harley grinned sheepishly at him and jumped back down in a swift sudden movement. She seemed to look around as if for the first time.

"Erm, professor? What's with all tha boxes? Are ya splitting?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replied and walked around her to sort the papers she had been sitting on. "The situation forces me to act with haste. I have made arrangements for a change of venue."

"You're leaving then!"

Her voice had dropped immediately to her natural range and was dripping with accusation. Dr Crane slowly removed his reading-glasses and pocketed them.

"You're not going to say anything?" she continued when he did not contradict her.

"It cannot be helped," he finally replied. "The chemical I had to sacrifice last night will be easily identified and linked to the burglary where it was acquired. My intentions had hitherto been to attract as little attention as I was able - but I believe Batman will now be expecting it and is likely to pay better attention to smaller crimes. So yes, Dr Quinzel, I am forced to abandon the neighbourhood I have been gathering supplies in. It is only a matter of time before this location is no longer secure."

"Because of me?" Harley asked quietly, her voice quivering once again in a higher octave.

"My decisions are my own… All of them," he replied and then turned his attention back to the boxes.

Harley Quinn remained still and repeated her last words again, almost in a whisper.

"I have some news," Jonathan Crane said into the box he was stacking bottles into. "Your acquaintance , Dr Isley, appears to have awarded herself an early release. I am certain she would be delighted to see you."

That didn't really matter - not to Harley. Sure, if Red got out she might well take Harley in. Poison Ivy was not going to let Harley run anything whatsoever. She might ask her - the Joker even did sometimes, but what they both had in common was that Harley's opinion was only ever really valid if they didn't already have one themselves. That wasn't even the point. She'd been building it up in her head for a while now - her taking over Gotham all by herself. Sometimes doing it with the Scarecrow either as partners or better still: With her calling the shots. Which she could, if she could just get the professor ring-shaped enough to fit on her hand. Was he really kicking her out?

"Fine!" Harley cried.

Her companion turned immediately to look at her - though he didn't seem overly concerned. She grabbed a handful of the pearls and bracelets and thrust her hand towards him.

"Well, 'era ya go! And thanks!" she said.

"My dear…" he began, looking from the jewels to her and back, but not reaching for them.

"I got 'em for you! So here!"

He took her hand by the wrist and with his other hand, he gently moved her outstretched fingers into a tight hold around the jewelry.

"I just wanted tha help," Harley whimpered in frustration.

"Miss Quinzel, I do not understand," replied Dr Crane - neither of them seemed to realise he had momentarily reverted to what he had called her during her student days. "I believed you would be eager to rejoin your friend?"

Harley made a sound halfway between a sniff and a snort.

"You're my friend too - aren't ya, professor Crane?"

"I… Yes, I suppose."

"Then why won't ya let me in on it? I can be useful, just see!" she insisted.

"I work alone - as you are well aware," he replied, finally letting go of her hand.

"That's not fair!" Harley cried.

She relaxed her hand and the jewelry fell to the floor, clanging and jingling on the floor. Her costume pigtails seemed to twitch as she began to shake with emotion. This sudden outburst finally seemed to push Jonathan Crane out of his comfort zone. Harley gritted her teeth. She ominously marched towards him.

"I tried! I really tried!" she exclaimed as she began repeatedly hammering her fists down upon his shoulders and chest.

"Dr Quinzel, will you cease this childish behavior at once!" Dr Crane objected, though he did not sound entirely confident in the face of raging Harley.

"I'm not childish!" Harley roared and swiftly kicked one of Crane's boxes.

Several vials were crushed on the floor and the contents immediately began sizzling and eating its way through the floorboards. Dr Crane reacted before Harley could and pulled them both towards the doorway - and far from the angry acid pool before it touched their footwear. Holding her by the shoulders, he looked towards the damage and back to her with a look that Harley had never seen directed at herself before - not from him anyway. She let out a sob and fell towards him, clinging to his shirt.

"You think me simple," she heard him whisper somewhere above her.

Harley smiled secretly into his clothing. He smelled strange - like cleaning supplies. She wrapped her arms around him to get her point across, pressing herself against him. He abruptly pushed her off of him. He ran his fingers across his face and surveyed the ongoing damage.

"Why?" he said.

"I wanna be partners," Harley replied, puzzled. "Nobody ever let's me. Not even Red."

"I am tempted to say I see why."

"Just… Thought you'd be different," she smiled carefully.

Dr Crane sighed and nodded.

"I am certainly impressed by your newfound quest for independence. Why it has to come at the expense of my laboratory…"

"You can teach me!" Harley interrupted. "It'll be just like old times! Whaddya say, professor?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. She batted her eyelashes with exaggeration and folded her hand sweetly.

"On one condition," Dr Crane said sternly.

"Really? Oh boy! Ya won't regret it! Promise!" Harley squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down.

Crane stopped the bouncing forcibly by pressing down on her shoulders but the pigtails continued on their own a little while longer.

"No clownery."

"Awww, but…! I mean, sure! Whatever ya say, professor!" said the peppy harlequin.

He nodded encouragingly and turned to attend to the mess. She stuck her tongue out at his back.

TBC