Disclaimer: I own the Lees, and the waitress is my bitch. That's it.

Chapter Ten: "Your Eyes"

It was a distance to the first decent restaurant from Arkham, but not so long as to be unbearable. Bruce filled the stroll with pleasant conversation, and neither of them had to worry about an awkward silence. But Elizabeth noticed that Bruce didn't take complete interest in the topics he presented, only as much as was necessary. It was like he was trying to be someone he wasn't, building up a facade to hide behind. She felt slightly resentful that it seemed he was trying to hide who he was to her, but it was only vaguely discernable, as if he believed in who he was, he just didn't care for it. Odd, and almost impossible for the mind to wrap around for comprehension.

They sat down and looked at the menus, and after a moment, Elizabeth put hers down. She watched over the edge of Bruce's menu as he decided, and he lifted his eyes to look at her. Without the sun glaring into her vision, she could see his eyes much better, and was suddenly struck with an odd sense of familiarity. She couldn't put her finger on it, because she figured she had never seen eyes like that before. They were guarded and stony, with a hue of kindness in them, but it was mostly a cold comfort. They were eyes that hid many secrets, they were eyes that lied to many people, and shut them out. Elizabeth had her first encounter with eyes like these many years ago, with Carrie.

Carolina had developed a habit of sneaking out of the house in highschool to go to clubs, and many of the nights came home less than sober, among other things. They lived with their mother, a widow, scared of losing anyone else she held dear, and therefore hesitant to do anything that might lead them to turn away from her, like punishment. Carolina had just been entering highschool when their father died, and fell immediately into the wrong past times. Elizabeth decided to delay her first year of college to stay and slap the shit out of Carolina when she acted stupid, since her mother wasn't up to the task, and though Elizabeth never laid a hand on her, she managed to scare her all the same. She was a sight when she got mad. Carolina was a wonderful liar, and had not surprisingly gotten away with many things before Elizabeth finally learned how to read her eyes. They truly were the window to the soul, sometimes. After that, Elizabeth always knew if Carolina came home with something she shouldn't have, or if she were lying or hiding something, because her eyes always turned an emptier, duller shade of their normal hazel. It was because of Carolina that Elizabeth had decided to major in Psychology when she finally went into school, instead of Business.

But it wasn't their resemblance to Carolina's when she was hiding something that made them so familiar. She had truly seen those eyes before... but where?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the waitress, who held her pen poised over a small notepad, ready to write down their orders.

"Ya'll ready to order?" She asked with a grin that was begging for a good tip. She turned her attention mostly at Elizabeth, and pretended she was ignoring Bruce, though Elizabeth could see the nervous twitch in her eyelids as she tried, sometimes unsuccessfully, not to glance at him. Elizabeth gave her order, smiling and deciding to give her a nice tip for the obvious effort (most women refuse to tip if they think the waitress is flirting with their husbands, and she obviously knew; maybe from personal experience?).

Only a short while after they had received and started on their meals, Bruce's watch beeped irritably at him. With no small amount of regret, he relinquished his fork and pulled a wallet from inside his coat. Elizabeth had stopped eating to watch him, her curiosity piqued.

"I'm terribly sorry to cut our um..." What do you call things like this? Would "meeting" be too businesslike? Date too official? "... lunch short."

"That's fine," she replied. "Duty calls." Why would Bruce Wayne NOT be busy?

He laid three twenties on the table apologetically, "This should take care of it, plus tip."

"Nice tip."

Bruce chuckled and slid out of the booth, "It was really nice seeing you again, Ms. Lee."

"May as well call me Elizabeth."

He smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgment before departing. When he was halfway down the street he pulled his cell phone out, pushing the number he had Alfred on speed dial for. The phone rang twice, and Alfred answered with the most dignified "hello" Bruce thought he would ever hear in his lifetime.

"Alfred, you beeped at me?"

"Ah yes, I was hoping you hadn't forgotten about your meeting with Mr. Fox today. He's making his way up the driveway."

Bruce silently cursed, "I'm on my way up."

"I'll put on a movie." He could hear the receiver click as Alfred hung up the phone. He was never much for small talk, and they had long since transcended the need for goodbyes. Bruce pocketed his cell phone and quickened his pace, wondering why he had felt the need for a refreshing walk around the city that afternoon. He was usually pretty damn good at remembering appointments. Maybe he was getting old. Sure, the tabloids called him Gotham's most eligible bachelor, but the single grey hair he had found that morning foretold that he was soon to be labeled Gotham's most elderly bachelor. Life was cruel.

Lucius and Alfred were waiting for him down in the batcave when he arrived. Lucius had already unloaded the boxes that contained the rest of the equipment for the computer labs and security.

"Sorry to keep you waiting... you know how it is..." Bruce smiled partly out of sheepish apology, and partly with mischief.

"I haven't forgotten how easily you can be... distracted. Buy any hotels this time?"

"No, no." Bruce chuckled as he crouched down to shift through the equipment. "You stopped me from buying this cute little café right on time, though."

"How disappointing."

"I figure I'll just be in the way down here," Alfred called as he wandered back towards the elevator. "Just buzz if you need me."

Bruce watched Alfred retreat from his low position, then grinned up at Lucius. "He's actually quite a couch potato when you're not looking." He glanced down and pulled another box towards him. "And all of these pieces in this one box go to the computers? Seems like a lot."

"Well, I'm sure I put a few extras in there just in case, but other than that..." he let the obvious trail off unspoken.

"Well, let's get started then."

Harlene had just returned to her office from her lunch break and sat down when the phone rang, as if it had been anxiously anticipating her arrival. She picked up the receiver as she lazily flipped through a magazine.

"This is Harlene Quinzelle."

"Harley! How's my favorite girl in the world?"

"Puddin'!" Harley squealed into the phone at the familiar voice, abandoning her magazine enthusiastically.

"I just thought I'd drop in a line, to check up on you."

"That's so sweet." She smiled, propping herself up on her desk with her elbows with a dreamy expression. "Will I be able to see you tonight?"

"Of course, darling, you know I'm just dying to see you. That project I've been ranting about all week is close to being finished, and I'd like you to see it before I put in the finishing touches, just to tell me what you think about it."

"Ah'm sure whatever it is, if it's from you, it's perfect."

"I'll pick you up tonight at nine."

"Okay, puddin'." Harley drawled, twirling a lock of her hair.

"Oh, Harley! I almost forgot. I'm not sure if you'll be able to help me, totally understandable if you can't, but there's this man who's been harassing me lately, and his daughter happens to be one of your patients."

"Yeah?" Harley stopped messing with her hair and sat up straighter, worry tugging at her gut. Was he in trouble?

"If he gets too violent, I'm going to tell him you're holding his daughter hostage."

"What?" Harley's spine was completely rigid now, no longer from worry, but from fear and shock. He couldn't really expect her to kidnap a child, could he?

"Now, now, you don't really have to hold her hostage, just declare her insane and have her locked up in Arkham for a little while. It won't be forever; shouldn't even be more than a week or two, in fact."

"Mr. J..." Harley skirt was now no longer more than a wrinkled wad of fabric in Harley's fist, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Come on Harley, you don't want me to get hurt, do you? This is the only way, I assure you, or else I would have never asked."

"Of course I don't want you to get hurt, puddin'. Of course I'll do it for you."

"There's a dear. I'll see you at nine tonight. Ta ta."

The other line clicked as he hung up, and Harley returned her own, her hand shaking almost too much for her to place it down straight. It seemed like an easy enough task, just declare the child insane, but Harley had never been so dishonest before. Sure, there was that one time she shoplifted that pair of earrings, but nobody's life was on the line. She wasn't killing anybody, but locking up a child for no reason at all weighed on her conscience just as heavily with guilt. But if Mr. J said it was the only way, then she would do it. Things would turn out all right in the end, she reassured herself.

At nine o' clock, just as he had promised, the Joker waited outside of Harley's condo, leaning on the door of his car, the chauffeur waiting in the driver's seat patiently. He had noticed, before they pulled up, that every few seconds Harley would peek through the blinds to see if he was there yet. She was crazy about him, and soon would be rolling over to do anything he commanded. It was just a matter of time.

Again, Harley parted the blinds, and after seeing him grinned and twitched excitedly. She vanished from the window and shortly bolted out of the front door, hastily pulling a black leather jacket over a red halter top. The black skirt she was wearing was rather short for the icy weather, so black hose accompanied it, trailing down into black knee high boots that had a three inch heel.

She wrapped her arms around Joker when she got close enough, and when she pulled back far enough he gave her a kiss, closing his eyes and enjoying the feel of being so passionate with someone who didn't cringe or pull away. Maybe he would keep her, after all.

When the kiss ended she bounced excitedly again, though not releasing her arms that were pretzeled around his neck. "Where're we going, Mistah J?"

"It's a surprise, cupcake, so you can't tell a single soul."

She giggled and let go of him so he could open the door for her. As she pranced into the car she told him over her shoulder, "Your secrets are safe with me!"