Batsy's Angels, Part Deux: A New Beginning

Bullba had been brought to justice, but the cost had been high. The cost had been her reputation; and even though the world now had evidence that Bullba was real, had employed robotic clones of himself to do his dirty work, and had killed and manipulated and brought countless people to their ruin…

Well. As the saying went, a reputation is like fine china – once cracked, never easily mended.

So Quiverwing was left branded with the title 'terrorist' that Bullba had forced her into.

No. He hadn't forced her. He'd manipulated her, yes, but that was no excuse. She was an intelligent being capable of free thought, and at any time she could have dropped it; could have said no; could have walked away. But she hadn't.

She'd made her bed, now she had to lie in it. Gosalyn didn't expect sympathy. The young woman fully accepted that she was going to be hunted as a criminal from now on. She was just relieved that H had agreed to go home before his reputation had been ruined as well.

At least they didn't know who she was. Darkwing had officially denounced his former assistant, and from the news reports she'd been watching, the heat had finally died off of him and St. Canard. Her father was in the clear, his secret identity safe. But ah… how he must hate her, and hate himself for failing as a father.

It was that which drove the woman – out of costume, for once, in a sweat shirt and jeans, her bright red locks concealed under a worn ball cap – to slip into a pay phone somewhere in Chicago. The use of a calling card that routed calls first to the company's central office in Denver then to where they were going covered her tracks, or at least made the call a little harder to trace. She held her breath, counting the phone as it rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Again.

Fifth.

Sixth.

Seventh…

Gosalyn was ready to hang up on the eighth ring. But it didn't come. Instead, a groggy voice answered.

"Drake Mallard…"

Well. It was the middle of the day. Of course he was asleep. She was still holding her breath.

"Hello…?"

Why was she still holding her breath? She inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly.

"…Anyone there? If you're on one of those blasted cell phones, I can't hear a word you're saying. Get a real phone, then call back."

He was going to hang up, she could hear him shuffling the phone. Gosalyn forced one syllable out of her suddenly tight throat.

"Dad…?"

This was greeted with a long silence, then finally, "Gosalyn."

Not the most welcoming tone.

"I'm sorry."

Again, there was a strained silence. Well. How had she been expecting him to greet that?

"Where are you?"

She bit her lip. "You heard about -…"

"Bullba," he said in acknowledgement, also cutting her off before too much was said. Landlines were easily tapped and bugged, after all. "Gosalyn…"

"I don't know why I called, really. I just…"

"Tell me where you are."

"I can't do that." She smiled wryly to herself, and added, "I've been disavowed, remember? There's nothing left for me in St. Canard."

"That's not fair, Gosalyn."

"Life's not fair, Dad."

"You know you have no choice but to give that hobby up."

"I do have a choice. I'm just not making the one you want me to make… I guess I'm making the one you made all those years ago."

That struck a nerve, she could hear it in his voice. "Come home, Gosalyn. Don't throw your life away. I know where that choice leads and I know you'll regret it."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I suppose I just called to say goodbye. You won't be hearing from me again."

"Gos-…"

Whatever Drake had been about to say was cut off when she lowered the receiver into the cradle. A solitary tear slid down her cheek as she exited the phone booth, moving across the pavement to where she'd parked her motorcycle.

Two days later she found herself in Gotham City. It was a bad idea all around as the city's protector was more likely to slap a pair of cuffs on her and turn her in than he was to let her presence in the city go unnoticed. The Dark Knight may have believed that she was innocent of the charges against her, but he considered her – rightfully so – headstrong and reckless. She could see how that combination in a vigilante was one he would consider a threat to public safety. So she didn't blame him.

Gosalyn felt that a good deal of her aggression had been worn away in the past few months. She sort of believed that the last of her childish impetuousness had faded away as well, but only time would tell. Gosalyn had one understanding with herself, however. There would be no more mistakes. She wasn't going to rush into anything again. She was going to think things through. H, after all, was no longer here to be the brains of the operation.

In this case, thinking things through meant laying low while she searched for signs of the one person Gosalyn thought might still be considerable as a friend. It wasn't going to help her image any, going looking for Harleyquinn, but in spite of the woman's criminal affiliations, Gosalyn was fairly certain she could be trusted. Perhaps even 'saved'.

Only time would tell. She had to find the woman first, and that meant positioning herself somewhere that she could listen to 'the talk' and find out the latest on where she was. Returning to the bar she'd once lurked in under the alias Poison, this time dressed in much the same unassuming manner as the general thug population, she paid for a bottle of beer and settled at an empty table in the back of the room where she could observe until an opportunity presented itself for her to engage in conversation.

A few hours later found her settled pleasantly into a poker game, lightly chatting with the others in the game about 'business'. By the time she broke even and retired from the game, she'd learned a great deal about the current times in Gotham's underbelly. She'd also learned that Harleyquinn had left the city, what she hadn't managed to uncover was where. No one knew, though they were all speculating it was across the river to NYC.

Exiting the bar, she gazed up at the night sky, seriously considering seeking out the one person that would know for certain. She furrowed her brow. She didn't need his help, she could weed Harley out on her own. And he didn't need to know she was intending on hanging around Harleyquinn.

The next morning she set out across the bridge to Manhattan. Harley hadn't been in any of the papers since she'd stopped playing sidekick to the Joker, and she was clearly intent on keeping herself somewhat hidden, so it took a little more effort than she was expecting to uncover the location of the woman and her hyenas.

It was the hyenas that had given her away, but knowing the woman's love for the beasts – heaven alone knew why – she could see that it was a chance Harley would simply have taken. Sometime near the approach of midnight Gosalyn stumbled on Harley's small apartment. She didn't waste time eavesdropping, knowing the wild dogs would hear her before she had the chance to hear anything, and simply knocked on the door.

It opened, slowly, and she found herself staring momentarily down the barrel of a handgun. Her fingers twitched, but she resisted the urge to strike it from the woman's hand, knowing the hyenas would be on her in a heartbeat. She simply stood there, waiting for recognition to strike. A few moments of blank stare later, she realized it never would. Harley had never known anyone but Quiverwing, and had certainly never seen her without her mask on.

"Whaddya want, chickadee?" Harley snapped impatiently just after the vital realization had struck.

So much for thinking things through.

Gosalyn's cheeks reddened slightly, and she sheepishly admitted, "I'm sorry, Harley. I wasn't thinking…"Her hand moved slowly to pull off the ball cap, letting the locks of red hair cascade down around her face. She had no desire to speak her identity so freely in the corridor between apartments, not knowing who was observing, especially with the openness which Harley was brandishing her gun. Didn't speak highly of the locals, it didn't. Lavender eyes met blue ones, and blue eyes flickered slightly in question, and the gun was lowered.

"Come in. Just don't get too comf'table. Lou and Bud ain't had dinner yet."

"As I'd hate to end up as dinner…" Gosalyn murmured, slipping into the apartment and shutting the door behind her, "I guess I'd better make this quick. Do you know who I am?" She could see the hyenas now, crouched low and silently snarling, watching her every move. Her eyes uneasily left them and returned to Harley.

Harley had crossed her arms, eyeing the other woman. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. Maybe I oughtta let Lou and Bud tear ya apart either way…" Her tone was stubborn with suspicion.

Gosalyn couldn't hold it against her, really. She supposed she'd act the same in Harley's shoes, if her own hideout had been found. And given the somewhat cold brush off she'd given the woman before… Gosalyn extended her hand. Slowly and carefully, making damn sure she wasn't close enough to provoke the hyenas into attacking. Still, they snarled, shifting. Sighing, Gos made the jump, as it were. "Gosalyn. Just Gos, really. Either way, it's shorter and smoother than 'Quiverwing'."

Gun still in one hand, finger, for that matter, still resting on the trigger, Harley considered the other woman's offer in silent speculation. Finally, she took her finger off the trigger, shifted the gun to her other hand, and extended her own to shake Gosalyn's. The significance of the identity admission wasn't lost on her, and her gaze drifted to the sentinel animals. "Lou. Bud. Go lay down, babies. It's ok. She's a friend…"

The red-head breathed a sigh of relief as the beasts were called off, and Harley chuckled. Mirth seemed to erase the tension from before, and Gos found herself laughing slightly. "It's good to see you. After the rumors I'd heard of you and the Joker going to war, when I couldn't find you I started to worry."

"Don't know why somebody like you'd worry about somebody like me. That makes twice this month I been surprised like that… Have a sit, I guess."

Gosalyn moved to settle in one of the room's small, plain wood chairs, and took a more relaxed survey of the room.

"Ain't much," Harley said, somewhat reading the other woman's mind. "But I can take care of my babies, and that's what mattahs."

"I see… And I know it's none of my business, but…"

Harley raised a brow at the hesitation. "I heard about that Bullba creep. Ya got'im. Looks like he got you back, tho, huh? I mean… before you were so… bold…"

"Impulsive?"

"That too I guess."

"I guess I've gotten a little older in the past year."

"I guess I have too…"

"Given up on playing vigilante?"

"Doesn't pay the rent. I got mouths ta feed."

Considering this, and considering if she'd expected to find anything different, Gosalyn shifted in her chair and didn't reply.

"Whatcha want, comin' here, anyway? I thought fer sure you'd go home, things bein' over…"

"Well. As you pointed out… Vigilantism doesn't pay the rent. And my reputation is in ruins… I don't have a home to go to. Just a few loose ties I made here and there…"

"Where's the computah geek?"
"Sent him home, before he got stuck like I am."

"So yer on yer own. Ya got lonely and ya figure old Harley's the only one left who won't turn ya ovah to that coppahs?"

Gosalyn smirked. "Something like that."

"So…"

"So… I need a partner."

"We been through this. Vigilan-…"

"…-tism doesn't pay the rent. I know. But bounties do."

"Bounty huntahs?"

"Yeah. Crazy, I know."

"Been called worse."

"So…"

"Makes a change from tryin' ta blackmail mobstahs… One thing though…"

"What's that?"

"We don't set foot in Gotham. I don't care how much it pays. Ain't takin' no chances runnin' inta him."

Gosalyn found herself grinning broadly, knowing it wasn't the Joker that Harley was thinking of.