"Sedation doesn't work long, but the Bats use it as a means of escape. It has to be fired in the head because their blood is so thick it barely moves- if shot anywhere else, it'll never take effect; the toxin would never reach the brain via bloodflow. Fear toxin so far has proved to have humanizing results. It makes the zombies, otherwise mindless, fearful for their own lives, proving my theory that the synapses aren't dead; just dormant. I think shock therapy could-" Dr. Crane looked up from his notes where he'd been writing as he talked out loud. "Harley. What are you doing here?" He asked in surprise, her figure silhouetted in the doorway.
"Mistah J said I should come spend the day with ya." She skipped into the room, Oscar Mayer cradled in her arms. "So whatcha doin'?" She grinned at him.
"Perfect," Crane muttered irritably. "I'm doing my job. What is that?" He pointed at the dog in confusion.
"A dog," Harley said slowly. "Of the canine family. They were domesticated by humans hundreds a years ago." She giggled.
"And why do you have it?" Crane looked at her earnestly over the frame of his glasses.
"Because look at his face." She held Oscar up in front of Crane. The dog licked his nose and stared at Scarecrow.
"Alright. Will the Joker let it last through the week?" He asked calmly and continued writing his notes.
It was then that Harley noticed the zombie strapped to an operating table in the far corner of the office, unconscious with its skull cut open and it's brains laid carefully on the metal surface. Oscar Mayer sniffed in the direction of the Infected, his nose straining towards it. "We don't even know if I'll last the week," she giggled as she walked over to the zombie. "What's goin' on here?" she walked around the table. When Oscar growled at the Infected, she set him on the floor.
"Just taking a look under the hood," Crane chuckled, picking up his notebook. It was a run-of-the-mill school spiral college ruled, the cover long since torn off, the papers absolutely covered in ink of various colors in convoluted notes. He walked towards her, pushing his glasses up his nose. He narrowed his eyes at her. "The bruises are still there." Harley wrinkled her nose at him.
"So are the age lines." She poked his cheek.
"Yes, well, stress and age will do that to you," he replied listlessly. "And you're not so young yourself anymore."
She mock gasped. "How dare ya say that to a lady." She grinned. "And I am old enough ta realize you're doin' something here." She put her elbows on the table as she stared at the brain at eye level. "So what do we got?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet," he replied, looking over his glasses at the gore on the table. "I honestly just wanted to see how they worked. How can their brains still function if their blood is so slow and swollen that it can't carry oxygen to it anymore? Yet their brains seem to function normally. It's incredibly peculiar."
"Just a lot slower?" Harley guessed. "I mean," she straightened up, "their whole bodies need oxygen ta live, so their just in a half death thingy? Slower systems, slower blood, slower brains?" She stared at the brain and tilted her head to the side.
"Exactly. Slower." he smiled a little at the dog sniffing at his feet.
"With random bursts 'a speed," she pondered, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Is the Infection smart?" She turned to him. "It sanctions off parts 'a the brain ta do exactly what it wants, superior clottin', an' it keeps people alive who're at the brink 'a death. It came in with the aliens, could it be some kinda alien parasite? Symbiotic relationship? Like Venom in Spiderman. Did you read comics?"
"I… no, I wasn't much of a comic book enthusiast, no," Crane stared at her in confusion, and then turned back to the zombie. "Though that is an interesting theory. Worth looking into."
"Didn't read comics," Harley scoffed. "How un-American." She watched Oscar sniff a shelf full of jars.
"Actually comic books began in Japan and then in Europe well before the eighteen hundreds," Crane muttered, scribbling in his notebook. "Would you mind getting a test subject for me?" he asked hopefully, glancing out the window at the zombies milling about. "You don't have to, I know you don't like them. I just figured it may be easier for you to do it than for me."
"Does it have ta be a specific kind? Or can I just get the first one I see?"
"Take whichever you choose," he smiled brightly, and she was taken aback. She hadn't seen him show any emotion, much less be happy- since before the Infection. When the Joker had taken over Arkham City it had been join or be killed, and Crane had reluctantly joined the Joker's mad crusade to take over. Since then he'd seemed listless.
"The fact that your smilin' is scarin' me," she told him. "I'll be right back. Don't do anything," she gestured around the room, "strange while I'm gone." She grabbed the dog catcher's pole from beside the door and headed out. Crane quickly prepared the straps on another operating table, rolling it into the center of the room and awaiting Harley's return. She elbowed the door open, holding the pole firmly away from her as a decaying biker with a gunshot wound the shoulder struggled to get close enough to bite her.
"Ahhh, the first one I saw, I wish I hadn't." The zombie yanked Harley into the room when it smelled Crane, practically dragging her. Crane quickly walked around the zombie and took the pole, forcing the zombie towards the table.
"You did pick a nasty one, didn't you?" he sighed, and Harley helped him force it down to the table and strap it down as it snarled and thrashed against the belts.
"Well we're in Arkham. What'd ya expect?" She huffed a strand of hair out of her face. "A sweet old lady?"
"Maybe a nice damaged one," he shrugged. "And smaller. Definitely wish it'd have been smaller." Crane smiled a little.
"Then next time ya should specify that," she told him. "I followed your instructions ta the letter."
"That you did, Harleykins, that you did. So how have you been?" He busied himself checking on the zombie, careful to put gloves on before he poked in the bullet wound in its shoulder and then scribbled in his notebook.
"Bored mostly," she shrugged. Bored on most days except Dick's patrol days. Like today. She glanced to the North where she knew the wall was, and Nightwing somewhere beyond it. She didn't think it was a coincidence Joker had suggested she visit Crane today. "What about you? Still scarin' away crows?" She beamed. Crane smiled a little.
"Scaring them," he gestured to the thrashing zombie.
"Ooo, sounds like fun. Can I help?"
"Of course," Crane grinned, pulling out a canister of his fear toxin and handing it to her. "In the face."
"All righty then." She pointed the canister directly at the zombie's snapping jaws and leaned away, pinching her eyes closed. She sprayed him and jumped back. Scarecrow walked past her and plunged a needle into Harley's arm. When she cried out he pulled the syringe away.
"Don't worry I'm just inoculating you," he assured her, his eyes wide. He'd just hoped that she wouldn't hit him. "You should be immune to the toxin now."
"Ow," she rubbed her arm, "we'll ya coulda warned me," she muttered. "And I think Ivy already pretty well covered that, but thanks for lookin' out for me, Doc."
"I just had to make sure." The zombie suddenly went still. Crane shuffled a bit. "How- how is Ivy?"
"She's good." Harley poked the zombie's cheek. "She got annoyed at Oscar because he chewed her peace lily. But she's good."
"Good," he muttered. The zombie flinched away from Harley's hand, whimpering.
"How many times are we gonna say 'good?'" She smiled at him. Crane smiled a little at her, his white-blue eyes more tired than any other time she'd seen him.
"Im glad she's ok. I'm glad that you're... Um..." He cleared his throat as the zombie whined again, struggling to get away from them as he turned his attention back to it.
"It's weird seeing one of 'em scared 'a us." She watched the zombie with mild interest. "It feels backward."
"Is it not fascinating though? The thought that this was once human. You can even determine it's human fears, if you try hard enough; I found this out while experimenting on two different subjects, a victim who died of a drug overdose and a woman who was stabbed working the corner- she seemed to be absolutely terrified when I so much as presented a needle, while he reacted, but nowhere near as strongly. I did some further investigating and found out that the addict was terrified of heights. So much so, in fact, that the creature fainted. Actually fainted. They still fear. They're still human." He stared at the zombie on the table as it stared around the room in a terrified stupor, constantly whimpering. "Sadly, that is not conducive to my research. I am nowhere near close to learning to control them. But this may be a step in the right direction." He began to pace the length of the room.
"Yeah, I mean ya tapped into that fight versus flight center 'a the brain." She waved her hand in front of the Infected's face and watched him flinch away. "It's either fear or desire ta fight that drive people in hordes. I dunno how ta make it work, but it seems like you're on the right path."
"Yes, well I don't think that we can effectively control them by scaring them in the right direction. But this does show that there's a subconscious there. There's-" Crane halted in his pacing, his eyes wide behind the cracked lenses of his glasses. "Of course," he breathed.
"What?" Harley stared at him. "That was an epiphany type 'of course.' What?"
"Hypnosis. The answer is as simple as hypnosis." Crane looked at her in shock.
"Okay," she said uncertainty. "I'm a little skeptical of hypnosis when done by normal mortal men."
"Hypnosis accesses your subconscious, it's like being asleep without being asleep- You wouldn't do anything that you normally wouldn't, but because the zombies brains are fried, they're rageful and hungry- reduced to basic instincts- hypnotize them to your commands and point them in the right direction and they'll do anything you want," he breathed, running a hand through his hair. Jonathan suddenly beamed, turning to Harley as he grabbed her hand, pulling her into his arms as he swung her about the room happily and laughed. "That's it! Oh, thank you, Harleykins! All it took was talking through it to you. You've always been a genius, Dear, I've always known," he chuckled, setting her down. He ruffled her hair and smiled. "I've been working for months and my research has come to nothing but that."
"Well, uh, I'm happy ta help?" She shrugged, still slightly confused. Crane stopped to think for a moment and smiled a little.
"Of course I'll have to figure out the technicalities, but this is something. This is an idea," he sighed, resting his elbows on the table. "Something to pitch to the Joker to cut the agitation back a bit. How are you healing?" He suddenly asked, glancing up at Harley and examining the bruises on her face. "No, you can hardly see them anymore..."
"So, are we good?" Harley asked hopefully. "Or do ya still need me? Seems like you've got this."
"No, you may leave. But Harley-" he caught her arm as she turned to the door, looking at her earnestly- "be careful. Be wary of Nightwing. Not just because he's the enemy, dear, but because he could hurt you. And because you are treading on thin ice with the Joker. Nobody wants to see you get free of him more than me, or Ivy; but just the same. Be cautious." He smiled a little and released her. "And say hello to Ivy for me?"
"Um...okay." Harley backed slowly away. "I'll… um…" She didn't know what to say to him. "If anyone asks, I was here all day."
"You never left," he agreed. She glanced back at him in confusion one last time.
"Thanks. Come on Oscar." The dog scampered after her as the door closed. She picked him up as she walked through the asylum, scratching his head. When she stepped outside, it was dark. At least it'd be easier to sneak through the city undetected.
Harley held Oscar to her chest as she scampered through the city. She hid every time she came across someone, scratching the dog's head whenever he'd look up at her and whine. When she finally made it to the wall, she glanced around. Taking a deep breath, she held Oscar tight and sprinted through.
She giggled once she was past the wall, glancing behind her. She set Oscar down by her feet. "Come on. Let's go see Di- Nightwing." She glanced behind her again before jogging forward, Oscar trailing at her heels.
Oscar followed behind her the whole way, and Harley giggled at him anytime she looked back at him waddling along after her. When she reached the hotel is when she realized her problem. She didn't have a way to make it up to the room. Is he even there? She craned her neck to look up at the skyscraper. We didn't think this all the way through. Oscar wandered over to sniff a dumpster as Harley resigned herself to the fact she'd have to go find Dick.
She whistled to call Oscar back to her as she started walking again. She had a feeling finding him when it was dark was going to be a lot harder than during the day. He might not spend as much time by the opening at night. Besides, he might have given up waiting for her at this point. Harley chewed on the inside of her cheek as she went along, squinting down different streets. She briefly wondered what would happen if she ran into another Bat that was on patrol before Nightwing; the idea of facing Robin didn't appeal to her.
Oscar would stop to explore various things before scampering after her, practically tripping her as he got underfoot. He ran off barking, and Harley rolled her eyes. She didn't want him getting lost chasing a cat, so she followed. He stopped in the middle of the street still barking with his hackles raised. Harley peered through the shadows in the street and could barely make out three figures leaning around a busted street lamp.
Oops. She quickly called Oscar, and her reluctantly followed her, still growling. She headed in the opposite direction, staring straight ahead until she walked into the unmistakable shadow of a wall. A dead end. Maybe they didn't follow, she thought hopefully. Oscar started yapping. Of course they did.
"Where you going, cutie?"
Harley sighed in frustration as she slowly turned around, facing the three men with an annoyed expression. "So I'm gonna guess you're not gonna tell Mistah J ya saw me wanderin' around outside the wall, huh?"
"What are you talking about?" The same man spoke. He was in the center of the three of them, and definitely the biggest. All of them had the dirty Arkham look and sunken eyes of bad habits and no food. "We saw a pretty little lady who looked lost, and we thought we'd offer her our assistance." Harley physically winced when he said 'pretty little lady.' He talked with a slow drawl that made each of his words sound like they were steeped in oil, and she was immediately disgusted by him.
The three of them kept walking toward her, but she held her ground, Oscar hiding behind her legs as he bared his teeth at the men. "I'm good, so why don't ya beat it?"
"Aw," he dragged the word out. "Well that's no way to be. We're just trying to be nice." He grinned, and Harley immediately wondered when the last time was that he'd brushed his teeth. The other two wore matching idiotic grins. The three of them were obviously well built, nearly double her size, but she couldn't figure out why they were acting so cocky. They knew who she was.
"How about ya go be nice somewhere else?" Harley warned.
"But we feel like being nice to you." The man stepped in front of her, putting a hand on her arm. She punched him in the throat. As the man stumbled back coughing, one of the other two men grabbed the collar of her jacket. She elbowed him in the gut and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. She was almost glad these three idiots had attacked her; she was in a punching things mood.
Harley lunged toward the final man when the gunshot rang out. The cement at her feet splintered, and she tripped to the side. Well that'd be why they were so cocky. The Joker had gathered all the firearms in Uptown and Arkham, no one had them besides his inner circle. The surprise of it threw her off balance. The first man man grabbed her throat and slammed her against the wall; her head cracked against it hard, and she cried out, seeing stars.
"That really hurt you little bitch," he hissed in her ear as his hand fumbled at her hip for her gun. He tossed it aside and caught her hands that clawed at his arm. "Don't worry," he hissed, "I'll still be nice enough to show you a good time." He pushed her harder into the wall as she struggled to free her arms, her shoulders getting scratched by the rough brick.
Ow my head. She winced. Focus on the real problem at hand, she scolded herself. But it really hurts. She tried to blink through the pain to focus. The man thrust his face in front of hers.
"You should really stop struggling, princess. You might hurt yourself." Harley spit in his face, and he loosened his grip on her throat enough to slam her back into the wall. She attempted to gasp for air as he leaned into her neck and smelled the scent of her hair. "What a pity." He let her arms go to yank her shirt down below her bra. Her hands couldn't pry his hand away from her throat as he groped her. "You're too dangerous to keep conscious." His hand tightened around her neck. "I was really looking forward to hearing you scream and beg for mercy." He pressed himself against her leg, so she could feel how much that turned him on.
Knee him! Do something! she tried to order herself, but her limbs were starting to feel heavy. The guy she'd elbowed grabbed her right arm, pressing a knife to her side. The first man smacked him away.
"Back away," he snapped. "You'll have your chance." The guy looked like he wanted to argue, glaring at Harley, but just nodded. Never loosening his grip on her throat, the man offered the other man the gun and exchanged it for the knife. Harley's eyes flickered over to the third man, but he just watched with the same stupid smile. "Now," Harley shuddered as the man spoke again, practically lifting her off the ground by her neck, "let's see the perks only the Clown Prince gets." He trailed the knife down her stomach. She knew she could easily take him, but she started to panic as her vision began to flicker and her hands were too weak to free her throat. A string of profanities ran through head at how she'd gotten herself in this situation. She tried to focus enough to kick him away but could feel herself starting to blackout. The pressure from the knife was gone, and she could hear him undoing his zipper.
There was a sickening crack as the third man's calf bone suddenly snapped outward with a force from behind and he buckled, screaming horribly and clutching at his leg where the bone stuck out of his jeans. The first man gasped in shock, and his hand loosened a bit on Harley's neck. She coughed as the cold air rushed into her lungs, searing her throat, but keeping her conscious. The other two looked around in shock, and one readied his gun. The alley was silent apart from their friend's wailing.
"What the hell was-" the second man began, but he was cut off when a grappling hook exploded clean through his shoulder, the sharp teeth catching his skin before he was suddenly yanked backwards by it into the darkness, screaming. In a split second the final man had released Harley's throat, and she fell-
-only to have someone catch her at the last moment, and lower her to the ground gently before he swung at the man who'd been holding her. The blow landed and knocked him down; from where Harley lay, coughing and desperately trying to regain her composure, she could see Nightwing's back to her as he caught the man by the throat just before he hit the ground. Dick shoved him across the alley and against the wall, the man's head slamming back into the brick. Unholstering an escrima stick, he kneed the man in the groin. Dick drew back and hit him once- twice- three times- he didn't stop until the escrima stick took blood with it on the backswing, and then he let the man drop. He fell to his knees and Nightwing caught his head with escrima sticks on either side of his neck before bringing his knee into the man's face; the final blow knocked him out cold and he fell to the side in a motionless heap. Dick breathed heavily for a moment.
He finally turned and walked past the man with the broken leg, kicking him in the face to knock him out and stop his wailing, and he finally knelt in front of Harley. His body was stiff and tensed, blood splattered over his gloves and his face hidden in shadow. Still a bit dazed, she felt him gently pull her shirt back up and lift her into his arms, carrying her out into the dark street. He whistled for Oscar Meyer and the dog trotted out towards them. Harley clutched onto his jacket, trembling slightly as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, still rasping for air.
"Thank you," she choked.
"I've been looking all over for you," he snapped, and then his voice softened. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"
"I'm-I'm okay," she croaked and rubbed a hand across her throat. "You wouldn't happen to have a glass of water in the nifty belt of yours?" she tried to joke.
"I do. I have some food, too, can you wait until we get to our place?" he asked quietly. There was a bit of blood splattered on his mask, and he smiled a little at her.
"My guardian angel," she attempted to laugh but ended up shuddering and clinging to him. She nodded, burying her face in the crook of his neck again as she held tight to him. Dick reached the hotel and scooped up Oscar at his feet, dropping him on Harley's lap. "Hold tight to him," Dick said quietly and then fired the grappling gun, landing safely on the balcony of their makeshift apartment. He stepped in the doors and closed them behind himself against the chill, gently putting Harley down on the couch. He examined her thoroughly to make sure she wasn't hurt and then handed her a small canteen of water, dropping back on the floor as he sighed. The room was quiet and dark, and Oscar leapt off of Harley's lap to sniff around.
Harley twisted the lid off the canteen and gulped half of the water down before stopping to breathe. She closed it and handed it back to him. "Thanks." She grabbed a throw pillow and hid her face in it as she curled up in a ball on the couch cushions. Dick watched her for a moment before he stood and went about the room with his book of matches, lighting the candles scattered on shelves and tables and any other surfaces that they could find to put them on. Dick took his jacket off and draped it over Harley. She caught his hand. "Can you just…" she looked up at him, "stay here for a sec and…" she looked down, blushing, "be gentle with me?" Dick stared at her in surprise and then smiled softly.
He walked around the couch and sat down beside her, pulling her up into his arms. "Of course. It's ok, now, Harley. You're ok," he reassured her kindly, pressing his lips to her forehead. She held him tightly, pinching her eyes closed.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just need a minute."
"Understandable," he replied gently. "Take your time." Dick's arms were wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his jacket warm over her. It smelled faintly of cologne and the blood splattered over it. She put her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and trying to let the steady rhythm calm her. She breathed slowly in and out, the action still a little strained. After a while, she tilted her head to look at him only to have her head throb at the sudden movement.
"Ow," she complained. She gingerly touched around the tender skin at the back of her head. "Ow," she muttered again in surprise, "that hurts."
"Well stop poking it," Dick giggled quietly, smiling down at her. He took a deep breath. "You scared me there. I couldn't find you, and when I did… I wasn't thinking, I just had to act fast," he breathed, stroking her cheek.
"I was with Dr. Crane today, an' then when I finally got out here, I didn't know how ta get up here," she explained. "So I tried looking for ya, but ran into them. An' one 'a them had a gun, and took me by surprise, and it all happened really fast, and I don't even know. I shoulda been able ta get outta that situation." She checked to make sure there was no dried blood in her hair. His hand caught hers and he smiled a little, lacing his fingers with hers.
"It's ok. We all get taken by surprise," he shrugged. Dick leaned his head back against the couch and sighed quietly, putting his boots up on the glass coffee table. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he hadn't shown up.
"Thanks for showin' up when ya did." Harley snuggled back up into his chest. "An' I mean it," she said seriously. "Thank you."
"Good," he chuckled. "I'd be a bit put out if you weren't grateful," he joked quietly, brushing her bangs behind her ear.
"I'd be more grateful if you'd grabbed my jacket," she teased "I loved that thing." She smiled up at him. Dick laughed.
"We can go back for it. I don't think it's going anywhere," he shook his head, before his smile wavered a bit. "Are you sure you're ok?"
"Yeah," Harley glanced over herself, "I think so." She tried to look at her back. "The scratches sting a little, and I have a splitting headache." She pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. After a moment of thinking, she reached up and carefully pulled the elastic holding her right pigtail in place out and repeated with the left. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed once the tension was relieved off her scalp. "Much better." Dick smiled, his eyes closed as he took in the faint, warm, inviting aroma of whatever soap she used in her hair. He released a sigh shakily and smiled a little, turning his head on the couch to look at her.
"Let me see." He gingerly moved her onto his lap so that he could examine the scrapes on her back. The touch of his hand brushing her hair over her shoulder so he could see them gave her goosebumps, and his thumb traced gently over the torn skin. "They aren't bad, no, but we should still clean them up. We should both get the blood off, it's dangerous…" his fingers trailed over her pale skin. Harley made a face at him over her shoulder.
"Always the practical one." He broke into a grin before kissing her shoulder gently.
"If you knew my brother Red Robin, you wouldn't think that. Or even Robin," he laughed, scooping her up, wary of the cuts on her back, and carried her into the bedroom and to the bathroom. Closing the door behind them, he set her down on the counter and pulled his first aid supplies out of his belt. Harley stared at her reflection across the narrow, long bathroom. The wall with the door in it was completely glass mirrors, and when the door closed it seemed to disappear into the glass. That, partnered with the mirror over the counter behind her, made the room seem to go on forever, with hundreds of Dicks and Harleys getting smaller and smaller and fading into the illusion of nothingness. Dick made her turn and started cleaning the cuts gently. "Only a few of them are bleeding," he informed her, but she could easily see in the mirrors.
Harley watched her reflection reach back and run her fingers through the long hair at the nape of his neck. "I didn't know ya wanted ta play doctor." She saw herself smirk in the mirror and watched for his reaction. Dick's cheeks went red and he glanced up at her, catching her looking in the mirror. He blushed harder when he did and laughed a little.
"I always wanted a 'normal' job when I was a kid. The dream didn't last long, but I did. Maybe I should've been a doctor," he shook his head, trying to ignore her watching him as he gently misted her back with an antibacterial spray.
"Eh, it's not that fun." She leaned forward away from his hands and grinned at him through the mirror. Dick caught her shoulder and pulled her back, giving her reflection a stern look, making sure to wipe the scrapes clean one last time. They weren't even bleeding anymore, and he let her go, packing the supplies away in his utility belt again. Dick sighed and washed his hands in the sink. "You'll live. I think. I mean, I'm not a doctor." She turned around quickly, draping her arms over his shoulders.
"But I am." She grinned. "Did you need a checkup?"
"Alright, alright, I'll play along," Dick smirked, his hands resting gently on her hips. "I dunno, I haven't been to the doctor in a while. I could probably do with a check up," he laughed, his thumb tracing gently over her hip.
"And what's the reason for your appointment?" she asked, moving closer to him. "Everything functionin' properly?" She raised an eyebrow.
Dick laughed again. She loved the way he laughed, so genuine and happy. "Everything functions just fine, Dr. Quinzel," he replied, smiling. "Though I have been feeling a bit off. A little shaky, a little sick to my stomach. I feel faint; light as a feather. And I don't know why," Dick smiled slyly. She looked at him seriously.
"You're pregnant."
Dick burst into laughter, taken completely off guard.
"No, I don't know that that's it," he snorted, grinning.
"Hmmm," Harley fought to keep from smiling, "I'm a little rusty at this. Lemme try again. Is it… the flu? I'm really not this kind 'a doctor."
"Then maybe it is a problem for your kind of doctor," he smiled, watching her happily. There was still a bit of blood on his mask. "Tell me then, am I crazy?" She nodded.
"Oh definitely. We're gonna need a lot 'a sessions together." She stood on tiptoe, her lips level with his. "A lotta one on one sessions."
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Dick whispered, his lips brushing hers.
"I thought I was the doctor here," she pouted.
Dick grinned and bit her bottom lip, pulling her into a kiss as his arms tightened gently around her waist. "You are. So in your professional opinion, should I really be one on one with the very doctor that's driving me mad?" Harley felt him grin against her lips before he pulled her closer to him.
"Definitely not," Harley giggled. "Just like I shouldn't be with one 'a my patients." She ran her hands up into his hair. "But that's what makes it so fun," she whispered against his lips. Dick inhaled her words, closing his eyes as his lips chased hers. Barbara. She said you might love Harley Quinn. Let's see where this goes. He leaned forward and kissed her hungrily, pulling her closer to him. Harley kissed him back fervently, pressing herself up against him as her hands knotted in his hair. She couldn't believe how unbelievably grateful she was that he'd been here for her tonight, not just saving her. Dick lifted her off of the counter, one hand remaining against her back while the other slid under her to support her weight. His lips dropped away from hers and he kissed down her neck, biting her every so often, his dark hair falling over his shoulders in a tangled mess. She tightened her legs around his waist, her back arching. Tossing her head back, she bit her lip as she gasped. She realized her hair was still down as it tumbled over her shoulder and down her back. The urge to put it up washed over her, but instead she grabbed Dick's face and leaned down to kiss him. Dick kissed her hard, his hand trailing down her side. He wanted to feel her. To know what every curve of her body felt like against his; he wanted her to feel every touch. He wanted her to notice his hand under her and his finger slipping under the hem of her shorts. He wanted her to notice the solid strength and power of his chest as hers pressed to his, her back arching her body against him. Dick moaned softly against her lips, catching their reflection in the mirrors before he pulled her top up over her head and drew her close again as he kissed her, watching his hands move slowly and delicately back up her spine before his eyes closed again.
"As a medical professional," Harley murmured, pulling his top up, "I think I should give ya a thorough physical." Her hands explored his chest as she kissed him again. Dick sighed against her lips, one hand gripping her back as the other slid into her hair. He moaned and he kissed her fervently, pulling her closer as he set her gently on her feet and tugged her shorts down. Harley smiled into the kiss as she unclipped his utility belt, letting it fall to the floor before pulling their hips together.
This is it. You can't love her. You know you can't... But you do. Dick pulled her close. He wanted to say it. He knew that he was capable of holding it in, of keeping his love a secret- he'd done it with Barbara for almost ten years. But he wanted to. It was on the tip of his tongue. Dick's lips brushed hers and he unzipped his pants, letting them fall as he kissed her again. Harley braced her arm against his chest and shoved him back against that wall, cracking a mirror. She looked at the lenses of his mask and could barely see his eyes widened in surprise behind them. She gasped and backed away from him.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She buried her face in her hands. Calm down. He's not that man.
"Harley," Dick breathed, wanting to reach out to her but not wanting to frighten her again. "It's okay. It's me. I wouldn't hurt you. It's okay," he panted, stepping towards her and pulling her into his arms. "It's okay," he repeated, running his fingers through her hair. Dick kissed her head. I love you.
"I'm sorry." She looked up at him. "Did I hurt you? I am so sorry."
"I may have gotten cut on the glass- I mean, I like it rough, but..." He chuckled quietly, just hoping to make her smile again. Dick pushed the hair out of her face and smiled a little.
"I... I've just never felt that helpless before." She leaned her forehead on his shoulder. "I can still feel his hands."
Dick sighed quietly. He didn't know what to tell her. He leaned down and kissed her neck lovingly, his lips tender and gentle on her skin. "Focus on my touch. Focus on us." Dick kissed her collarbone gently, his hand moving softly over her waist, pulling her closer into his arms. Harley closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in his touch. It was worse in the darkness behind her eyelids, so she quickly opened them, grabbing Dick's face and staring at him for a moment. She needed to see that it was him. Once she was breathing steadily again, she leaned forward and kissed him gently. Her lips moved from there, along his jaw, and down his neck. She moved her hands up into his hair, kissing along his shoulder and faded bullet wound. Pushing him gently against the wall, her hands knotted in his hair. Dick sighed again, his head dropping against the wall. He held her close, feeling up her spine to her shoulder blades. His comm sounded in his ear and he gasped a little.
"Nightwing, what's your location?" Robin asked. Dick opened his eyes and looked down at Harley.
"Northernmost point of Uptown. You?"
"By the bridge, making another round. Do you need me to cover your area?"
Dick hesitated.
"That's a yes, then," Damian said, and Dick could hear the smirk in his voice. "Think before you leap, Grayson. Think before you make this decision."
"Thank you, Robin," he laughed nervously. Harley ran her finger along his lips as he laughed.
"You're a mysterious man, Nightwing." She smiled. She wanted to know who the man behind the mask was, but not for the reasons a criminal should want to. "But I think you're right, you won't hurt me." She leaned her elbows on his shoulders, standing up on tiptoe and leaning her forehead against his. There was a voice in the back of her mind telling her to stop, but she ignored it. "So if the offer from last time still stands..."
I'm going to show you how I make love, he'd whispered then. Dick took a deep breath shakily and bit his lip, smiling. "I think that can be arranged," he breathed, kissing her slowly as he savored the taste. Her hands cupped his neck, and she pulled their bodies together as she kissed him back.
"I just," she leaned back a bit, "I need to know it's you." She blushed a little, red coloring her pale cheeks.
"What do you mean?" Dick looked a bit surprised, running a hand through her hair.
"I need to know I'm in here with you, not..." she looked down, "not out there..." With them. "I don't know if that makes sense. I just need to feel..." Safe. You make me feel safe. Shit. She closed her eyes. I really am crazy. Dick stared at her for a long time and then let out a slow breath.
"You know… we had a set of rules in the circus when we got scared. Three rules to follow to stay calm and stay alive; three facts to keep in mind to calm yourself if you froze. Number one: pick a point. Choose the point in space you're headed for and don't look away for not even a second. Look at me, Harley." He cupped one hand under her chin and made her look at him. "Number two: build yourself a net. Make a kind of mental safety net out of plain, simple facts, to steady you. Facts like-" he took a deep breath, biting his lip as he reached up to pull his mask off- "my name is Dick Grayson." He looked up at her, and she could finally see his face; chiseled cheekbones and clear blue eyes of the purest color, rimmed in dark, thick sleepy lashes. Dick smiled a little. "I am Nightwing. My parents died when I was eleven. I grew up by Batman's side as Robin, and I've been there ever since." He leaned down and kissed her gently, his hands cupping her face. His lips fell away from hers and he opened his eyes again to look at her face. "And if all else fails," he breathed, kissing her gently, "if you clear your mind and think only of these things, and you're still scared; there was a third rule. A back-up plan."
Harley stared at him in shock, her eyes flickering between both of his. Too many things were flashing through her mind at once. His eyes were definitely not gross, his cheekbones were different than she'd imagined, she did recognize his name, and his story with Bruce Wayne, he hadn't kept out of the news like she'd thought a Bat would, and the fact that his eyes were so blue, and that he was telling her this. She didn't know how to process that he was telling her who he was or what to do with the information. She focused on one thing. "What's the backup plan?" she whispered. Dick pulled her into his arms, carrying her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed as he leaned above her, kissing her passionately. He dropped his mask on the ground beside the bed and laced his fingers with her's beside her head in the sweet smelling sheets.
"Pray you land somewhere soft," he whispered, smiling down at her. Without his mask, she could see the feeling in his eyes. The emotion. The love. Dick kissed her again, pulling her close.
This is bad. This is very very bad, she thought to herself. Her back arched up toward him as she tilted her head back to kiss him better, her fingers locking with his. Dick kissed her slowly, his arm sliding under her back as he held her against him, sighing happily. It was like a weight had lifted off his shoulders; he could finally breathe. Harley could see him now. His hand trailed over her hip, his other cupping her face. His kiss grew more passionate as he held her, and he broke off weakly, smiling against her lips.
"I would never hurt you."
"What if you don't have a choice?" she asked quietly. She reached a hand up and stroked his cheek. "We're supposed to be enemies."
"Even so…" Dick looked in her eyes, smiling a little. "I don't think I could. I don't think I could be your enemy anymore. I..." he sighed quietly and leaned down to kiss her neck, his lips trailing over her skin under her jaw. Harley could feel herself starting to panic. This was never supposed to happen. She was afraid she was going to start hyperventilating, so she immediately followed his advice.
My name is Harleen Quinzel and I go by Harley Quinn. I am in a relationship with the Joker. I am also in a relationship with Dick Grayson aka Nightwing. She took a shaky breath. Damn it. She grabbed his shoulder and rolled them over, her lips finding his. Here's hoping for a soft landing.