AN: Friendly reminder this has light-BDSM tags. Better safe than sorry. Also I don't own anything.

"The wheels on the bus go round an' round!"

"Don't," he muttered without looking up.

"Round an' round!" She sang louder.

"Dr Quinzel."

"Round an' round!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" He whispered to the ceiling and stopped writing.

"The wheels on the bus go round an' round! All thru the town!" Harley chirped.

"No more! I beg you! Stop singing that song!" Dr Crane protested from behind his desk.

"So can I come?" Harley smiled, batting her eyelashes.

"Not until I am certain you will not experience any side effects," he replied with exasperation, having told her twice already.

Harley huffed.

"Here we go round the mulberry bush! Mulberry bush! Mulberry bush!"

"For the love of… Alright!" Cried the professor.

She giggled. She'd woken up sore and shivering. For the first few hours Harley felt as if the shadows lingered in the corner of her eyes and it took a while for her to no longer expect to see them. She was unusually jumpy and found a strange horror at being alone. Of course she did not tell him. Dr Crane was being overly fussy again. It had always been a joke, really. Mistah J and herself had always found the gas a bit silly. Especially since it didn't work on the Joker. Crane himself wasn't scary to either of them. She'd never seen him as anything but harmless. It was with a different view she glanced over at him now. She'd seen him raving and screaming on occasion at Arkham - usually when he was newly returned. She'd heard stories about what he'd been up to this or that time - like you did with everyone in there, even those not prone to bragging about their exploits. In reality Harley had never really thought that deeply about it. She hadn't seen it herself and so it was easy to maintain a mental image of him as some old librarian, who yelled a lot about how people should really be taking him seriously.

"So can I come?" She carefully asked.

"Provided you are careful. Do not do anything risky. It is the last phase before our big night!"

"I know," she mumbled.

"I mean it," he said. "You should be taking care of yourself."

Harley rolled her eyes. It was just for show. She wasn't going to let him think she appreciated the fussing - much. He had been asking her countless times already if she didn't want to go lie down in her room. She'd told him no repeatedly. Her body was exhausted and it was probably in agreement with professor Crane that she should be sleeping. That was not an option and it wasn't like she could tell him why she desperately wished to stay here in the armchair - listening to him making final alterations to the plan, rather than go and rest in her bed. It was the same reason she did not care how much she'd have to annoy him if he'd only bring her along tonight. She could not be left behind.

She was definitely fine and he was overly careful. Planners always were - and the Scarecrow was a planner. Now, Harley - Harley was spontaneous. A firecracker. A Carpe Diem sort of person. She shivered - but he did not see and she did not tell.

The sound of her heels was muffled by the leaves covering the sidewalk in various stages of decay. Winter was approaching. She pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders and discreetly looked up and down the street from under the brim of her hat. It was quiet here. That was either perfection or trouble. The building had several stories and looked extremely ordinary. In fact, the sign which proclaimed that it was 'The Gotham Department of Sewage and Sanitation' looked so completely dull that even that failed to draw any attention from anyone not looking for it.

The redheaded woman took a pocket mirror out of her purse and used the state of her lipstick as probable cause for pausing. There were a few windows on the upper floors with lights still on. It didn't matter much. She could take care of a few IT-workers and cleaners if she needed to. Pamela had tried to lay low. You would think it would be easy with the Penguin, the Joker, the Scarecrow and the Riddler all being out at once. But that wasn't so. Crime was currently high. Some took the gamble that Batman and the police couldn't possibly be everywhere at once. She knew that it also meant they would be on high alert. Not to mention, practically every place worth robbing had already been cracked during the last month. Well, most places that were interesting to her .

This was hardly a very glamorous place. It was a start though. She need toxins. She needed equipment. She needed access. This building contained maps of every tunnel, every pipe known to the authorities. Even disused ones. It made for an excellent guide on how to get to the right places fast when the time was right. Ivy frowned. It wasn't really her style but she was not afraid to get her hands dirty - literally. She casually recommenced her stroll towards the building. The Museum of Natural Sciences had an excellent stock of plant toxins in their laboratory, she knew - but of course, that laboratory was recently wrecked and stripped by someone else.

A sneer appeared on Ivy's face. She had not believed it when she first saw it. What the hell was going on? Sure, news came to Arkham last, but the moment the gossip had reached her - the moment she heard what that green sack of dirt did to Harley, she had escaped. Perhaps that would be it. Perhaps it was enough. Perhaps Harley would finally see - and it wasn't like she was going to leave her fending for herself. Well, if she was being honest, Poison Ivy had been planning to escape for a while - but she wasn't going to leave with Harley just because her puddin' might miss his favorite punching bag. So yeah, Harley wasn't the sole motivation but she was definitely in there. Only, where was that clown? Harley had asked about her through several channels and no word. Then there it was. That newspaper front page. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

'Partners!'

It was ridiculous. She had to know Ivy was out. Was she being serious?

'Harles' never is!' she corrected herself.

Pamela proceeded around the building until she reached a side entrance. Swiftly and gracefully she removed a few tools from her pocket and picked the lock. She knew there would be an alarm. The code was for sale. They always were.

The moment the lock clicked she swiftly swung inside and located the alarm control panel. She raised her gloves hand and froze. There was no sound. The alarm should be beeping loudly until it was disabled. There was nothing. That was odd. Even if there were people on other levels - this floor should still be locked. Perhaps the cleaning crew had forgotten to activate the alarm for this floor when they left. She knew someone had to be up there working late. Despite it being a little unnerving, she disregarded this and made her way down the corridor and to the stairs. The automatic light switched on as soon as she got there and Ivy carefully ascended. She had almost no weapons and needed the element of surprise. She'd avoided the main entry and the main hallway as that was the only section with functional security cameras. If she was fast enough she could incapacitate the workers here fast enough that no one got a good look at her.

She reached the third floor. This was the planning department archives if her research was correct. There had been a light on here. Slowly - ever so slowly, she turned the handle and held her breath as she opened the door, hoping that it would not creak.

"Will ya look at this one? It's a star!" she heard a high pitched voice giggle.

Pamela didn't move a muscle.

"Focus, Dr Quinzel," replied another familiar voice. "Look under the '42 section."

'You have got to be freaking kidding me!' Ivy thought to herself.

She removed a revolver from her bag and slammed the door fully open. Immediately she locked eyes with a curiously brunette woman with a white-painted face. Her blue eyes went wide and she immediately leapt in the air, letting out a very uncharacteristic scream as she jumped behind a desk. The strawman was not in her field of vision but she heard movement to her right. She turned and he froze. The grotesque sack did not reveal any emotion or surprise. He was holding some sort of leather cylinder.

"Drop it or keep it, Crane. It's not going to work on me!" she spat.

"I shall prefer to keep this," he replied, hints of a smugness in his voice.

She knew better. He couldn't do anything. One sudden move and she'd fire.

"How delightful to see you, Dr Isley," he continued, but Poison Ivy was not going to let herself be distracted.

"R-red?" a small voice called behind her.

"Stay put, Harles'" Pamela replied. "I'm getting a few things. Perhaps Dr Sackface here will oblige me? Those plans right there, roll 'em up!"

"Are there any particular ones you would be interested in?" he asked her condescendingly.

"Underground railroad," she replied, noticing sounds as Harley moved.

"Red? W-what're ya doin'?" she carefully squeaked.

"I missed you," Pamela replied. "Will you hand me the plans? And you! Don't make any sudden moves, professor!"

"Really?" Harley squealed.

Harley tiptoed around her and over to The Scarecrow. There she picked out some of the plans they had laid out on the table.

"Put those in my purse," Ivy instructed. "That too!"

She gestured with the gun towards a bag by the Scarecrow's feet. It might be toxins. It might be equipment. Whatever it was, it was useful.

"I am afraid not," hissed the Scarecrow.

"Harley, get it and let's go!" Poison Ivy barked and resumed her aim straight at the man. "Want to be an idiot today, Crane? Be my guest! Or what? You don't think this itty bitty woman has the guts to cover the wall with you?"

Hayley Quinn hesitated and looked at Pamela with her shining blue saucers.

"Ya want me to… come?" she said.

"I could have used a call, you know," Ivy replied. "Would it kill you?"

"I didn't… I didn't know ya wanted… to see me," Harley mumbled.

Movement in the corner of her eye alerted Poison Ivy. Scarecrow moved swiftly. Her brain immediately registered the danger and she jumped back before he could reach her and disarm her.

"Get away from me!" she roared and took aim.

"No!" sounded an ear piercing scream as Harley hurled herself into the air.

She landed between them. It went so fast. She saw the Scarecrow grab her and pull them both downwards as she pressed the trigger. The gunshot was incredibly loud in the tight space. Wallpaper and drywall was flung across the floor. Harley kept screaming. For a moment, a horrible moment, Pamela's blood froze and she thought the worst. But there was the bullethole in the wall. There was Harley Quinn on the floor. No blood. No guts - and yet she screamed. The Scarecrow was on his knees behind her.

"Harles'?" Pamela called.

What on earth did she do that for? Harley wasn't stupid and didn't knowingly jump in front of guns. The cries became loud sobbing. This wasn't right. Her friend was shaking.

"Dr Quinzel," the Scarecrow whispered.

He said more but Pamela did not hear it. She stepped forwards and the sound of her footsteps caused another cry from Harley.

"Don't!" hissed the burlap sack. "She has been dosed."

"She what? " Pamela sneared before she realized. "You sick son of a…"

Her blood was boiling. Of course. Another step. Her kick hit his shoulder. He didn't dodge it but was on his feet faster than she'd have liked. In a moment he had her by the wrist as he tried to take the weapon from her. She kicked and scratched but despite his spindly frame they were a fairly even match. The gun was flung across the floor but this did not stop her.

That was Harley. She just couldn't stay away from jerks. Ivy wasn't going to let him get away with it. She landed a punch which she was pretty sure had to have broken his nose and recoiled with a hiss from the damage to her knuckles.

"Professor! Red!" Harley Quinn cried.

Yes. Harley had to be first priority. She'd kill this guy when it was fitting. He'd fallen backwards with a howl and Ivy scrambled towards Harley, took her hand and pulled her with her. Hang the bag! She had the plans she'd need. Harley didn't get on her feet and Poison Ivy dragged her across the floor. A table lamp very nearly missed Ivy's head. Ignoring the object the Scarecrow had sent crashing into the wall, she hoisted Harley to her feet.

"Get moving, sweetie!" she cried.

"Stop it! Le' go!" Harley cried and began clawing at her.

She bore the pain and dragged the clown though the door to the stairs.

"Snap out of it, Harley!" she instructed.

"No I won't!" Harley growled, now visibly more angry than terrified.

This was a good thing, Poison Ivy judged. Perhaps it meant whatever he did to her was ending.

"Well, you need to walk on your own! I'm not carrying you!" Pamela replied stiffly.

"I'm not going!" cried Harley and finally tore her arms out of Ivy's grip.

Pamela exhaled sharply. Unless she was very lucky with that punch, Crane would be coming after them in a minute - and he'd have Pamela's gun. She grabbed Harley's head, gently but firmly cupping her cheeks and stepped close enough for their noses to almost touch.

"You've lost it, Harles'. This is a low rebound even for you!"

"It's… It's not… that! " Harley objected.

"What? After everything the Joker did to you? Everything he broke? You just couldn't stand not being somebody's punching bag? You had to to go sign up as a torture guineapig for the next coldhearted monster you bumped into? It's disgusting, Harley!"

"Dr Crane is nice!" Harley replied sullenly.

"Yeah, sure! Let's get out of here before the nice man blows our brains out!" said Ivy.

Harley Quinn shook her head free. The pompoms at the ends of her pigtails jiggled violently.

"Why wouldn't ya come?" she said. "I missed ya."

"I'm here now," Ivy said. "Don't worry, Harley. It'll just be us girls. I'll take care of you."

Still, Harley wasn't moving and it annoyed Pamela to no end.

"I'm doin' okay," Harley responded stubbornly.

Ivy threw her hands up in exasperation.

"You're delusional!" she declared.

"Don't say that!" Harley Quinn cried. "Don't ever say I'm crazy! You weren't there! You don't know anything!"

Poison Ivy heard sounds coming from the room and slammed the door shut. Standing still hadn't been good. She had caught her breath but now she could feel that she hadn't exactly come out of the fight unscathed and there was a significant pain in her side, her hand and her left temple.

"Can we discuss this after we get out of here?" Ivy replied. "I'm on a tight schedule here. Just come down and get in the car - I don't think Crane is entirely knocked out."

A sound could be heard in the distance. Both Ivy and Harley knew it well. It was a siren. The gun shot had to have alerted someone. Harley's eyes widened like she'd just realized she'd forgotten something. She jumped to the door and flung it open.

"Jesus, Harley!" cried Ivy.

They didn't have much time. Should she chance it? Could she make it out with Harley Quinn kicking and screaming all the way? If only her friend would leave it. Let the cops have the strawman. It'd be just the two of them. The sound was becoming unbearably loud. They were close.

"You better come to your senses soon, sweetie!" she yelled at Harley's back as the harlequin ran back in the room.

Ivy took her purse and bolted down the stairs. She'd find them. She had to get her out of there.

Two hours later Poison Ivy arrived at her safehouse. It was really just a dingy hotel. She closed the door to her room and flung her coat and purse on the bed, before she stepped up to the mirror and removed her hat. Even in the dim orange light from the lamp on the nightstand, she could tell she would have a bruise on her forehead by morning. Her wrist and side were still sore. Ivy sighed. She hated having to cover that stuff up. She stepped out of her shoes, gingerly curled up on the bed and pulled out her plans.

Pamela rolled out one and stared at it for a moment, trying to make heads and tails of it. She flung it onto the floor and frantically unrolled the next. Then the next. Then the next. She paused for a moment and then let out a furious hiss as she shredded the plan before her with her nails.

"It's alright," Harley said. "It ain't too bad!"

"I know," mumbled Dr Crane.

He was in his armchair. The mask lay folded over the arm and he held a ball of tissue paper to his bleeding nose. Harley Quinn uneasily shifted her weight from foot to foot. She wanted to help but Crane wasn't letting her. He had it under control but still. She felt responsible. They'd barely gotten out and to the getaway car. Perhaps they'd been recognized. The morning papers would tell.

"I'm really sorry!" she squaked.

Dr Crane groaned lowly.

"Regarding what?" he asked.

"Well, Ivy! 'An and all that! I didn't know she'd… Ya know."

"You should not apologise for the actions of others," said the professor, his eyes closed. "It is not the worst I have had, trust me."

"Still…" Harley replied and looked nervously towards the door where two of the men were standing. At her glance they seemed to retract before closing the door. She wasn't fooled, they were still on the other side.

"The main concern is the plans. We may have to find an alternative or rework our plans entirely," he sighed.

Dr Crane lowered the tissue. The bleeding would seem to have stopped.

"Yeah, about that," Harley replied, playing with the strap of Dr Crane's bag, still hung over her shoulder. "Red is probably comin' at us."

She pulled several hastily folded maps out of the bag and held them up like an offering with both hands. After a moment's pause, the half-costumed Scarecrow rose slowly from his seat and stumbled over to her.

"Is this…?" he asked as he took one from her and unfolded it. "How?"

"Well," smiled Harley, shrugging her shoulders. "I kinda put the amusement park ones on top of the ones you wanted - the ones with the pretty star pattern drainage!"

For a moment she thought Dr Crane had started to cough - which scared her, being medically trained as she was, but after a few hacking sounds she recognised that what she was hearing was a strained and rarely tried attempt at a chuckle.

"Oh, Dr Quinzel! You are absolutely marvelous!" he declared

"I… I am? " she replied incredulously. "So… You're not angry?"

"Why should I be?"

"Erm," shrugged Harley. "No reason, I guess. It's just… Ya know."

Dr Crane took the plans from her and brought them to the desk.

"I do not believe I do," he replied.

He unfolded the rest and laid them in a neat stack next to the other ones. Harley exhaled. She felt guilty. Poison Ivy was her friend. She should have helped.

"Ya know… I should have 'elped - with Ivy. And you got hurt!"

"I was not counting on your assistance," he told her, turning back to face her. "You were incapacitated."

"I don't understand why…" Harley began.

"The toxin was still in your system," he interrupted her. "I knew I should not have brought you. Adrenaline can trigger these reactions when you are still affected. I should have left you here."

"No!" Harley squeaked. "You couldn't! I wouldn't have… I mean... "

He nodded. The lack of confusion in his face was telling. He knew.

"How much did I say out loud?" Harley dared to ask though she did not dare look at him as she did so.

"Enough," he replied. "I understand that it may feel like a violation - but I can assure you, Dr Quinzel, that I am an excellent secret keeper and that I will not use it against you."

Harley trusted him. She did , though she supposed Ivy was right and it was a stupid decision considering what he was. That wasn't it. It felt so vulnerable that he knew. She knew he could destroy her with it. Everything she feared. Knowing that made her feel small and exposed.

"You knew," he suddenly said, breaking the silence between them. "And that, my dear, was riddiculous."

"You'd 'ave left me," Harley mumbled.

"You should have told me," he insisted firmly.

Harley nodded. She knew she should have. How could she have survived being left alone in the house?

"I could have left someone," he continued as if reading her mind.

Perhap he was, Harley wouldn't put it past him. She instantly grimaced. She'd never even considered that. Telling him why had seemed so awful - it still did, but he could have helped. Harley looked up at him. There was that unreadable expression again. Neither happy nor upset - and yet it always made her feel under scrutiny.

"What about Red?" she countered. "You'd have been alone!"

"I can manage," he replied. "That is no excuse. We could not have know she would interrupt. I certainly hope never to tend to you in a dosed state again, child, but do promise me to be frank should this happen again. Now, let us have a look at these."

"You're not angry then?" she asked.

This didn't feel right at all. He was being so nonchalant about it all again. She still felt guilty. Why? Why couldn't she stand his reluctance to have a temper?

"Should I be?" he said, arching a brow.

"I don't know," Harley Quinn mumbled and shuffled to the desk. "I just feel… I don't know. Like… It's not over. Or… Red would always yelle at me. Or argue - and Mistah J… He'd…"

"Don't be ridiculous," Crane snapped.

"Oh! I'm not saying… I guess I just like… Knowing where the line is? Or I don't. I hate it, being told what to do - but also I don't?"

"I only ask for trust," he replied calmly, too calmly.

Harley blushed and fidgeted. It was not easy to talk about this. She wasn't even sure what she was saying.

"Don't want ta be a sidekick," she mumbled. "But… I'm not used ta all this… Well, you not caring. Don't like it. I don't feel like it's alright. Like you've forgiven me? Because you aren't even mad about it? I know it doesn't really make sense an' such. It's just… I'm being stupid."

"Do not pretend to be less intelligent than you are, Dr Quinzel. I allow that some things may be too uncomfortable to face about human nature - especially one's own, but I refuse to participate in that pretense."

"I am sorry," she explained. "I shouldn't 'ave come here."

"I am glad you did."

"Ya are?" Harley asked hopefully.

"Of course! Though I could have done without the dishonesty. If all you wanted was the help to start out on your own - all you should have done was ask. I would not have turned you away."

He'd never said it so blatantantly. Harley gaped at him in surprise.

"You knew?" she asked.

"In time," he replied stoically. "You're not as closed a book as you might like to think. If it is of any help to you… I forgive you."

"So… Aren't ya goin' to punish me, Professor Crane?" she smiled, teasingly.

The sentence was a word for word repetition of one she once said in his office at the university - when she hadn't turned in her assignment. She had wanted an easy out. He gave her additional homework. He gave her a look - which Harley couldn't quite decipher, before he slowly made his way the two steps over to her. Harley felt an odd excitement wash over her and did her best to contain it - embarrassed that he should see it even if he was sure to either way. She waited for him to say something - anything. He was infuriating like this. Making her wait for a reaction. Then she felt him take her hand.

"Very well, Miss Quinzel," he replied.

Harley grinned widely. Her eyes sparked. Then he raised her hand slightly, holding it gently by her fingertips. Harley wasn't sure if he was going to pull her with him or… Then, to her astonishment, he lightly smacked the top of her fingers with his hand. It barely even made a sound and Harley immediately looked down at her hand, just in time to see him withdraw his and release her with the other.

"Do not do it again," she heard him say above her.

"I don't... Whaddya mean…'' she mumbled and looked back at him with a puzzled and disappointed look.

What she found there was not at all expected. There was a smile in his eyes and hint of another on his lips.

"Weren't ya goin' ta… punish me?" she asked but she hadn't said the whole sentence before she realized.

"You're mean!" Harley declared with a pout.

"Perhaps," Dr Crane agreed.

TBC