AN: Just re-stating the warning here. This chapter contains some dub-con light bdsm-related things in the form of brief non-con spanking. This is not an endorsement of this approach in rl. This is two dangerous people who not yet have the tools to do it right. It is not graphic but if you wish to skip it, read only the first section. Also I own nothing.

It was a grainy picture. The lighting was awful and sections just appeared black with no detail. It was from a security camera. Still it was possible to see a figure in the background - off of the ground in mid-backflip, with a shadow in pursuit. Jonathan traced the shape of that silhouette with his fingertips. Even if the paper had not said it, anyone could see it was Harley Quinn. He was at the forefront of the picture, running with two masked men to the get away car. It might seem an awkward photo - him on the retreat while Harley Quinn fought off the Batman. Luckily for Jonathan he did at this point care very little for the public perception of him - whenever it was not the perception he wanted. The picture did not show the subsequent gas he had released to get Harley out. You could not see her mask in the picture. You could not tell that letting the caped busybody think this was only a Harley Quinn operation had been the entire plan.

The headline was bold and read: New menacing duo? Gotham Museum of Natural Sciences robbed by The Scarecrow and Harley Quinn! The Carnival Ruby stolen!

Jonathan heard a content sigh and looked up from the paper to see her sitting there - on his desk again, staring lovingly into an obscenely large ruby. The papers rustled as he folded them.

"Was it truly necessary for you to bring that?" he asked calmly.

"It's pretty," Harley said, mostly to her own reflection in the stone.

"I do not have the contacts to sell it," Jonathan insisted.

"Can't I keep it?" said Harley.

Her eyes shone with joy as she finally looked at him. Jonathan Crane knew better - well, a part of him did, there was nothing they could do with that. It was only ever meant to be a distraction so they could get away with the chemicals. He found it difficult nonetheless to tell her no. His formerly quite humble laboratory was now quite impressive - courtesy to the chemistry department of the Gotham Museum of Natural Sciences. She did not look so out of place when she was out of costume - but she wore hers a great deal more than he did. Dr Crane understood why very well. Whether she wanted to or not, she was always in it. It was an infestation of her entire personality. He knew she was able to stop - but she considered that acting. Jonathan wasn't like that. He wasn't acting when he brought people screaming to their knees. He had not been acting either when he'd sat and listened to hours upon hours of people's emotions. He was not acting when he devised yet more complicated ways to reduce the human psyche to it's basest survivalist terror. He was not acting when he sat here in an armchair, watching his former student enjoy herself while he felt an almost… domestic calm settle over him. All of that was him.

He was very careful not to get too complacent. He knew perfectly well that if he could pick up a newspaper and see this, then so could the Joker. Perhaps Harley had considered that. Perhaps not. There was no telling with her. Jonathan was not a fool. Something would come of that - which clown started it did not matter. It was nice though. Jonathan found himself smiling ever so slightly and schooled his expression immediately before she would see it.

"If you like, my dear," he promised her.

Sometimes you just wanted to hold on to nice things.

Harley skipped through the door to her room - yes, she had her very own room here and that was something she'd never even known she wanted back when she was playing second fiddle to Gotham's most frequent purchaser of whoopee cushions. Her room was most decidedly a mix between a haunted house and Harley. The furniture in here was old, flowery and ribbed in parts. The walls were decorated with Harley's artistic work with sharpies, glitter stickers and spoils from her works.

The Carnival Ruby shone brightly. She'd taped it to a lamp and it has a bit of a disco ball effect. A red pillow case was taped around the ceiling lamp and the room was therefore bathed in red light. The jewelry lay stacked on a vanity - upon the mirror of which she had also been creative. Harley was delighted. She had completed her most dangerous mission yet. She pulled off the brown wig she was wearing and threw it on the bed. It was child's play. She had the plans. It wasn't that difficult. The idea had not seemed terribly exciting to Harley when professor Crane had first pitched it, but she was sold as soon as it involved her dressing up. Harley pulled the set of blueprints out from the inside of her grey blazer.

Professor Crane would not be back yet. He was out orchestrating - or whatever he called it, a diversion. Nothing too complicated but on the day it all would go down they would need one. Harley glanced in the vanity mirror and pulled a face before she removed the wig net from her hair. Harley tossed that and the plans onto the vanity. She hated being brunette. There was a reason she bleached hers. She looked funny in this get up. Well, she looked like 'Betty Roland, Building inspector' - just as the fake businesscards in her purse proclaimed. She hastily pulled off the pencil skirt and unbuttoned the blazer. She knotted the white shirt underneath and got in a pair of tights. Lastly, she left the glasses behind, changing to her contacts.

What was she to do now? She did not know when the professor of spooky smoke would be back and she was too happy to just sit here and wait. She wanted to tell him now. Things were going so well! Harley had seen their picture in the newspaper the other day and she had been over the moon! It was because the articles weren't calling her a henchgirl - for the first time in forever, and instead referred to them as a duo. It made her feel strange - but in a good way. Harley wasn't sure how to describe it. It was at once extremely liberating but also a little bit scary to know that she had no one protecting her.

'No, Harley,' she corrected herself with a grin. 'Puddin' wouldn't save ya. Professor Crane tried.'

How many times had she not come to help the Joker? Well, the world is upside down now. Harley threw herself on the bed and exhaled. Any minute now. What on earth was taking him so long? Not that he'd promised to be here by now. It was just that Harley wanted him to be and that was cause enough for agitation.

'I suppose I could go to the lab,' she thought.

But no, Professor Crane had been very firm about her not being in the laboratory when he wasn't there. That was one of the only things she was pretty sure she couldn't change his mind on. In a way she kind of liked that. It wouldn't have been any fun if he was a complete pushover. Honestly, that just made her want to do it more. There were some many interesting colours in test tubes and his notes - of which he was equally protective, held far more interesting things than he was showing her, of that she was certain. Harley turned onto her side. Really, she shouldn't be doing anything he told her to do. Not if she was expecting to run this operation. The professional side of her, browsed through the files of her mind.

There had to be some reason she wasn't eager to break those boundaries. An answer to that was uncomfortably near - but Harley truly did not want to know and pretended to have found nothing. It was something she missed about Mistah J. He was control in the chaos. You wouldn't know it - looking at them, but with him Harley could be as crazy as she wanted to be. She didn't have to plan. She didn't have to think. He made all the calls anyway. That was also the thing she hated. Harley sat up in frustration. Her mind was not a pleasant place to be whenever she began reflecting. Harley got up and walked to the window. The curtains were drawn, but peeking through them Harley saw the sad little yard behind the house and the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. Gotham's myriad of skyscrapers towered in the background. Where would Poison Ivy be now?

Would she be upset that Harley hadn't come to her? Did she miss her? Was she looking for Harley but couldn't find her?

'No,' Harley discarded the thought and closed the curtains.

She'd promised herself that she wouldn't - couldn't, ask Pamela for anything. She was probably happy as clam - covered in vines and daffodils in some conservatory somewhere. Still, Harley sighed longingly. She glanced back at the vanity, where the precious building plans lay. A mischievous spark danced in her eyes. Imagine, her sitting casually in his chair when he came back - the plans there and ready. A small power display. If she had been a smoker she'd have held a cigar in her own fantasy. She knew better than anyone that lasting power was gradually obtained. It was time to step things up.

Harley grabbed the plans and left for the staircase. Lenny was walking down the stairs just as she came out and greeted her with a much more jovial:

"Need anything, Miss?"

Harley shook her head.

"Actually I need ya ta stay below. The professor is coming soon."

He nodded. She could have used a 'Yes, Ma'am' but the fact that he did not question her was good enough. Her room was on the second floor along with their storage but other than when they occasionally came to get something, she had it to herself. Harley jumped down the steps a little behind Lenny. The men slept on the ground floor. The first, professor Crane kept for himself. This was where she was heading. Lenny did look at her when she lingered here and did not follow him down - but he did not question her. The door was locked. Really, she hadn't expected it to be unlocked but she was a little disappointed he did not trust her not to go inside. It wasn't like she had smashed any of his things. Or like she was currently trying to get in without permission. It was completely unreasonable that he wouldn't give her the benefit of the doubt, she thought as she picked the lock with a hairpin.

The door creaked upon and Harley was welcomed by the familiar scent of… Well, it wasn't really a pleasant scent but it seemed to follow the scarecrow everywhere. Harley closed the door behind her and skipped to the desk where she neatly laid out the papers on top of the others. Then Harley looked around. He'd sure been busy last night. The amount of canisters on his work table had doubled. And there were even some on the other side, that piqued her curiosity. She felt a rush as she stepped nearer. What could it be? Was he keeping secrets from her? She was pretty certain she could guess what was in the other ones, but these had to be something else or why else would he segregate them? She leaned closer, humming to herself, as she tried to inspect them for any labels. Just as she was about to pick one up she heard noises from below. Remembering her original intent, Harley jumped into the armchair, which complained loudly as the sudden weight. She swung her legs over the side and had only just gotten into a comfortable position, when she heard footsteps on the landing outside. A key was inserted into the lock and a long silent pause followed when it was discovered to be unlocked.

Harley giggled - perhaps a little loudly, and that caused him to act as Dr Crane flung the door open. He stared at her as she greeted him with a wide smile.

"Afternoon, professor!" she grinned and leaned backwards over the arm of the chair, obtaining a great upside down view of his expression.

'Oh, if Puddin' could see the look on the professor's face he'd…'

Harley had only just begun thinking these treacherous thoughts when Dr Crane ceased to be stunned. He stepped forwards without a word and calmly closed the door. This again unsettled Harley. She'd expected something… more. This calmness was something she did not know how to handle. She swallowed her wavering confidence and when he turned to look at her, she still had a smile on her face though she had righted herself. As he came towards her, she unknowingly pulled her arms and legs in. He stood by the side of the chair and looked down at her for a moment. It was here, up close, that Harley finally noticed the slight tremble in his shoulders and the darkness in his eyes. She'd seen it before, but only briefly. Despite what he did his best to pretend, Jonathan Crane was anything but calm.

"Dr Quinzel," he said. "I believe you owe me an explanation."

"Erm… Surprise!" she told him as cheerily as she could and pointed to the plans lying on his desk.

He glanced at them but immediately turned his attention back to her.

"That it certainly is - to find you here in a place you promised me most faithfully never to enter without my express permission!"

"You're not the boss of me," Harley replied, taking a gamble in resuming the relaxed dangling over the sides of the chair.

"I do not pretend to be," Dr Crane replied as he hauled her by her arm up to a normal seating position in the chair. "I would appreciate a promise given between us to be lasting - and I would appreciate you having the decency to look at me."

Harley flung herself out of the chair with an obstinate look in her eyes. This was not how he was supposed to react to her.

"Stop it with the lecture, will ya?" she cried.

He crossed his arms.

"I've been tha hell today, ya know! You don't know how many people I had ta sweet talk - how many stinking bureaucrats I had to get past ta get ya those! And then all ya do is get upset!"

"This is not about what you have done for me," he replied coldly. "This is about trust."

"You wanna talk about trust? Why do ya lock the door, professor?" Harley countered.

He sighed and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Because," he said quietly. "Of a young lady with no sense of self preservation, a reckless streak and an otherwise free roam of the premises."

"Don't tell me what I do or do not have!" Harley hissed, nearing her natural range.

She knew perfectly well what her issues were and she was committed to not facing them. Dr Crane was not allowed to start analysing her any more than she'd let the doctors at Arkham do it. She had been pushing his buttons ever since she came here but now that she was actually getting a reaction it wasn't very fun at all.

"Leave me," he shortly replied.

"What? What, go to your room? Go straight to prison? Go…"

"I do not concern myself with that," he interrupted her. "You are free to be anywhere else you wish to be provided it is not in this room."

Harley Quinn exhaled sharply. What she wanted to do most was rip his stupid head off. That wouldn't get her anywhere. He turned his back to her and went to the desk to look at the building plans. Harley was in hot pursuit, grabbing at his shoulder.

"So what? Just like that? Why don't ya just punch me?"

"I have no desire to do any such thing, Dr Quinzel," he replied, without turning.

"Well, this ain't university, professor! And ya can't tell me to go anywhere."

"I do not recall having ever banished you from my classroom nor threatened you physically in any way," he said as he placed pencils, a ruler and an eraser on the building plans.

"Well, maybe that would've made ya interestin' for once!" Harley spat.

"Hmm," he replied as he turned to face her. "What is interesting is that you should say so."

"Don't!" Harley exclaimed as she saw that look in his eyes.

She was vulnerable and she hadn't known how much before this moment. At least she had the training to see what he was doing. He was telling her in no uncertain terms that he absolutely could pull her apart like the pages of a book. But he hadn't. He did not really want to. She couldn't bear it, she knew that. The thought alone of having her strangest thoughts spoken out loud made her blood boil.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and let them slide down his arms. He had to be distracted. So, despite the rage, Harley stepped close to him and looked up into his eyes with a small smile.

"We're still… partners, aren't we?" she purred.

He did not reply immediately and she took a chance and rested her head on his chest.

"I should have reported you," he finally said.

Harley's eyes widened and she looked up at him in horror.

"But no, I would not throw away the career of such a bright young woman. Look what you have done with that."

He wasn't speaking about the police then. That was good, but still she withdrew herself from him.

"I'm fun," she said. "Anyway, I never did anythin'."

"Get out," he replied sharply.

She huffed. Harley knew perfectly well what he was referring to and it wasn't fun to find the rug pulled out from under you in this way. She'd been sure he'd never known. He turned away from her again and Harley, in a fit of genius, decided that two can play this game. She marched to the work table and grabbed a canister before she loudly exclaimed:

"Fine! But I'm keepin' some of this!"

"Put that down! Now! "

The voice froze her. She had never heard it before. Time seemed to both stand completely still and move incredibly fast around her. Someone was by her side - maybe it was professor Crane, maybe the owner of that strange voice. She felt a hand close around her wrist and she watched as the lid of the canister popped open and a small amount of clear liquid shot out. The hand guided hers to the table, setting the canister back. The liquid landed on the tabletop in a long splash. She was pulled away from the table and to the desk in a fluent motion. In a matter of seconds it was over. Harley was phased back into the timeline when there sounded a crack and a flash of pain spread across her butt. She immediately straightened in time to see professor Crane set the ruler back onto the building plans. His face was white as death. The pain was gone almost as soon as it appeared but a delayed whimper escaped her lips and caused his eyes to meet hers.

"Dr Quinzel," he said as he rushed to her.

Harley, still surprised, took a step backwards. She could have kicked his head clean off. If she was a more normal person - or Pam, she probably would have. She didn't.

"Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean… Do not be frightened," he urged her. "I do not know what…"

Harley continued to stare at him with wide eyes.

"D-did ya just… smack me?" she asked.

"I apologize, Dr Quinzel, truly."

His look of shock did not change significantly when Harley Quinn began to chuckle, only to proceed to laughter. He stared at her, clearly not seeing the joke as she did. Well, how could he?

"Ya smacked me!" she laughed. "You accused me of behavin' inappropriately with with my teachers - and then ya smack me!"

"I hardly think that remedies the situation," he replied, slightly less tense.

"It's okay," Harley laughed. "I won't tell the dean, now will I?"

She stumbled and fell to her knees, still laughing. So that was the extent of his fury. That was hilarious. And also oddly interesting. She felt the anger and the tension leave her body. She heard a strange sound and then he was on the floor with her - wearing gloves. She didn't get to wonder about that long or why she was feeling oddly content about what just happened.

"Let me see your arm, child," he said gently.

"What?" she said.

She didn't understand him. The walls were pulsing. The feeling of safety was falling through the floorboard.

"Heavens no," she heard him mutter. "Dr Quinzel? I need you to stay conscious! I will stay here with you, can you answer me?"

But it was too late. Even though Harley got the word 'yes' out, she was barely able to register what was going on around her as darkness seemed to creep in from everywhere and something between screaming and laughing drew nearer. She heard shouting around her.

"It's the liquified fear toxin," she heard a familiar voice bark at someone. "Hand me that there!"

'You're worthless, Harleen. Who could ever love you?'

That was the first voice she heard. It was a voice she knew. Soon others joined it. She saw a flash of green hair and malicious eyes. She was gone. She screamed.

TBC