Follies Of Fate

Chapter 4

I needed some sort of weapon.

If I was going to make a run for it anything that would do enough damage to make someone stumble could save my life.

The wine rack would be useless, the wood was so flimsy and any pieces thick enough to be useful were rotted through from years of neglect and decay.

My eyes fell on the barrel I was squeezed up against and I tried to see through the shadows to get a proper look at its base. While the top half of the barrel was just as messy as the wine rack across from me the base structure it was sitting on seemed oddly sturdy. I didn't pause to wonder why, just felt my way along the support planks of wood.

They were dry and when I tapped my fist on them they gave a satisfying 'thunk' instead of a wet listless sound I was expecting from anything wooden down here.

I got to my knees, leaning close and squinting at the four strips of wood about five inches wide each that made up this side of the barrels base. Latching onto the top one with both hands I tugged and was rewarded with a groaning creak but not a lot of movement.

I paused to see if Quinn had heard anything and was going to burst in through the door to shoot me. When she didn't I tugged again, more forcefully this time.

The wood shifted with another creak but didn't come free.

I braced my feet against the lower planks, took and breath and tugged with everything I had.

There was a loud crack and I fell back, the top plank of wood coming with me. I took a moment to lay there and send a few lines of thanks to whatever deity wanted to listen, straining to hear if Quinn had gotten suspicious of the noise.

This time she did.

The door clanked and I hissed out the breath I had been holding, pushing myself up and back into the hiding nook against the wall and the wine barrel. I tightened my grip on the thick stick of wood and wriggled it behind me against the bricks.

"Katey? You alive in here?" The drawl made me wince and I leant forward just a little so I could see the door.

Sure enough there was Harley, her head poking through the opening in the big metal slab with her face distorted by the torch she was shining up over her chin like something out of a horror movie.

"I'm over here." I got a face full of torchlight for my response and pulled back fast behind the barrel again "Jeeze, are you trying to blind me?" The light was redirected at the roof and there was a giggle from Quinn.

"Sorry!" Another giggle from Harley and I inched forward again, enough to see her close the door and sit down against it, grinning at me through her black lipstick, torchlight back under her chin again. I frowned at her but my eyes were drawn to the big handbag caught up on her shoulder. Hope blossomed and I couldn't help the tiniest of relieved smiles that twitched on my face.

Ahhh Harley, thank you for visiting. Thank you so much for supplying my possible tools for escape.

"What do you want?" I asked bluntly, choosing to ignore the look of offence that passed over Harley's face.

"What do ya mean? I can't visit a friend in the slammer with no ulterior motives?"

"No." I deadpanned back. Harley looked like she was going to argue then her shoulders dropped and she sighed heavily, slumping against the door.

"Joker and I had an…argument."

I shuffled back to the wall behind the wine barrel, still holding my hands pinned behind my back with the wood plank tight in my fingers. I hoped if she could no longer see me from the door she would come closer so she could talk at me face to face.

"Why are you telling me?" I prompted. Harley made a strangled noise of amusement before there was a shuffling sound and her torch, along with her, shifted into my field of vision. She sat cross legged a few arm lengths away from me, cheeks puffed up in indignation that I should ask such a stupid question.

Wonderful. She was almost close enough now.

She was silent for a long while before she sighed softly again and lowered her crossed arms to her lap.

"I don't know." Her posture began to change and before my eyes I watched Harley Quin drip away, Harleen Quinzel taking her place in all her board straight posture and perceptive eyed glory.

Once upon a time, I though Harley Quin was just a twisted little henchgirl who had lost her once decent mind.

I knew better now.

Harley Quin was a remarkable and baffling façade plastered on a twisted, venomous version of Harleen Quinzel because Harleen was, at her core, like thousands of women all across the globe. She'd changed herself to better accommodate the man she loved. Sure that man was a psychotic clown, but the principle was the same.

She was a crazy, delusional…but she was still Harleen.

I suspected that was why she couldn't be 'cured'. She didn't need to be, she had chosen her path not out of insanity, but out of love.

Though then again, maybe I was full of shit and I had no idea. You could never tell with Harleen.

"Why aren't you talking to Ivy?" I asked carefully, eyes flicking to the little spot of vines that had started to spread again across the corner of my cell. Harley let out a barked laugh and shook her head, hard eyes narrowing like she was remembering something bitter she'd swallowed recently.

"Red and I had a little disagreement too." She admitted. I shrugged. Good enough explanation for me. Not good enough for Harleen. "She doesn't like Joker."

I snorted. Who, after Harley, did?

One of the first things that had tipped me off about Harley's little dirty secret had been her speech mannerisms. I was surprised no one else had picked up on it. Especially her numerous doctors at Arkham.

She was sitting guarding me during one of Jokers schemes to lure Batman in, and she was obviously angry. I was close enough to hear her mumbling to herself. Presumably she didn't realise I could hear, because she sure as hell wasn't talking like Harley Quinn. Her droll tone was gone, all of her words were perfectly enunciated, and she was referring to the harlequin of hate as 'Joker'. Not Mista J, not Puddin. Joker.

It had been…odd.

The funny thing was that once you picked it, it became glaringly obvious.

She was two different people. She was Harley and she was Harleen. Each version of her had a completely different persona, different posture, different speech pattern, different everything. But Harleen was the one who made the change, it wasn't involuntary and she could flick back and forth like she was turning on and off a light switch.

"She doesn't understand what it's like to love someone the way Joker and I love each other. Our bond its...well, it transcends the normal and usual. Which makes it so much more of a high, but also makes the lows" She shrugged here and swooped her hand down to demonstrate how low, low really was. "I figured you would understand better than she ever could" Harley continued.

I blinked dumbly at her.

"Why the hell would I understand?" I asked eventually, trying and failing to conjure up a reason I would be able to relate to Harleen's unique situation. Harleen raised a eyebrow and thinned her lips.

"Your relationship with Batman of course."

There was a beat of silence before I threw my head back and laughed. Actually laughed.

"My relationship with Batman?" I asked once the ridiculous idea had settled in. "God Harleen what exactly do you think my relationship with Batman is?" Harleen looked displeased with my laughter but she waved it away with a shake of her hand and a piercing gaze that was obviously honed through years of practice and study into the human psyche.

"You love him. It's clear. And he loves you." She shrugged like this was the most obvious thing in the world and I stared at her, the humour of the situation gone completely, giving way to honest to goodness disbelief.

"Harleen, that's bullshit." I got out, frowning and getting a sick sort of feeling settling in my stomach.

Was that what everyone thought? Was that what all the villains of Gotham thought? I had seen the internet rumour mill spill out this sort of shit repeatedly but I'd never thought anyone who mattered would believe it.

I groaned.

Holy crap. If every bad guy in Gotham was convinced I was the Batman's girlfriend or bed buddy or whatever it was no wonder I had such a huge target on my back.

"How long have you thought that? Who else thinks that?"

Harleen shrugged again, a satisfied smile rising on her lips at the slightest of cracks in my voice.

Shit, she might take that as confirmation.

"It's common knowledge. Has been since Halloween."

Halloween? What the fuck happened on Halloween? I stretched my memory back and felt everything suddenly grind to a halt.

The party…Harvey Dents Halloween party. Oh fuck. Of all the stupid shit I'd done in my life I should have known that night would come back to bight me in the ass. Just like the Bat had said it would.

And to think this could have been avoided if I hadn't been so fucking broke.

Almost, but not quite 2 Months ago...

It was Halloween.

I hated Halloween.

I didn't always hate it, I used to love it. It was one of my favourite holidays as a kid. I would dress up and wander around the neighbourhood with my friends, smiling though my face paint as people handed me candy from their doorsteps.

Even when I moved so far away from home I would stock up on tasty treats and share them with the children from my apartment block. Then there was the parties, oh the Halloween parties my old boss threw. He was an ass almost all year round, even at Christmas he would Scrooge the place up with all manner of angry tantrums. But every year, on Halloween, he would throw a party for his staff that would rival even a Bruce Wayne function.

I wasn't going this year...I hadn't been invited this year.

I wasn't bad about not being invited.

Because now I dreaded Halloween. I had learned, very quickly, that Halloween was not a good holiday for Kate Strider to engage in. The constant door knocking set my teeth on edge. The gaggles of people streaming through the streets made it hard to hear the little noises I had come to rely on as warnings. The masks had me tensed and ready to run at the slightest hint of hostility.

Who knew which mask was hiding the Joker, or Ivy, or the Mad Hatter? How did you know what the seemingly innocent children at the door were carrying in their little lantern baskets?

Of course, when I tried to explain this to anyone they all called me paranoid. Which was stupid. Of course I was fucking paranoid. I'd been beat up, poisoned, kidnapped and attacked more times that I cared to count, what was so bad about trying to avoid it happening again?

I was doing really well too. It had been nearly four months since the last attack. Though, that could have just been because everyone was plotting. That thought alone stopped me from wanting to attend any of the copious amount of parties I had been invited to.

Apparently being associated with Batman made you an auto socialite. Countless people I recognized from the Gotham society columns had invited me to their events, never having met me. It was obvious the idea of having me there was exciting for them, the thought that something might happen to me at one of their parties was 'titillating'.

I sighed and slumped on my couch, eyeing the mound of paper invites on my coffee table. They were all pretty spectacular in a ridiculous kind of way. One envelope had been filled with gold dust; another had Swarovski crystals set into the paper. God only knows how they managed that feat and who had the money to waste on it.

I had run them through the usual security check before I opened them. First a blue light, a trick that had worked surprisingly well for a numerous amount of twisted and disturbing reasons, then a quick explosives and drugs test swab. Thank you internet. And finally a non-invasive hand held x-ray, requisitioned from the police labs without their knowledge.

They had all passed the test, which surprised me, especially considering one of them had been from Harvey Dent inviting me to his 'Reformed' Halloween party. The invite called for people to dress up in an outfit that best showed what they aspired to be, seeing as he was aspiring so hard not to be Two Face anymore.

That concept alone was laughable. I could never understand why they didn't just put Mr. Dent on some serious drugs and work some plastic surgery magic on his face. Sure it would be a long drawn out process, but it would be better than pretending therapy would put his shattered mind back together again. Sticky tape didn't work for humpty dumpty, why would words work on Two Face?

Still, it would be nice if it was true, if Harvey really had gotten a handle on his multiple personalities. It would make my nights a little easier to sleep through at the very least.

I would openly admit to anyone who asked that Two Face scared me, possibly more than the Joker did. Though maybe that was just because I had encountered the Joker more than I had Two Face. Maybe it was because I didn't know his patterns of behaviour or how he operated.

I plucked the invite from Dent out of the pile and looked it over again, pulling my legs up on my couch. The party was being held at a nightclub uptown. The expensive, public kind of place that screamed money and was meant to make those of us who didn't have any of it jealous.

Well it worked. I was jealous. Because I didn't have any money and I wasn't going to come into any of it any time soon.

For every single invite I had from socialites clamouring for my presence I had an equal number of rejection letters from companies unwilling to jeopardise their business by hiring someone who was such a liability.

That was me. A liability not worth helping just in case I brought trouble along with me. God, people sucked sometimes.

I let out a pathetic little sigh and rubbed my eyes, head swimming with the depressing figures of my savings account as I tried to calculate how much longer I could live on what was left. Not long, I decided, and with every passing, jobless day that time frame got shorter and shorter. I had paid my rent and scrounged for my bills but I hadn't been able to buy food for weeks.

My stomach rumbled dejectedly to remind me of that fact and I heaved a longer, heavier sigh, hauling myself to my feet so I could make for the kitchen. I set the invite on the bench and swung open the door to my fridge, peering inside.

What I found wasn't a surprise. I had used the last of the milk for the tiny amount of cereal I had left this morning before my day of job hunting and before that I couldn't really remember the last time I'd eaten something decent.

Currently I had a half empty jar of pickles and a slab of butter.

The freezer proved even less helpful since it contained nothing more than a pack of frozen peas that had been in there so long ice had fused it to the wall. But it was all I had so…

I reached in, yanked at it and had a disturbingly slow motion moment as the bag tore clean apart and peas showered out of the freezer all over my kitchen floor. The only reaction I could muster was to swear very badly and exceptionally loudly and slam the damn freezer door shut again, kicking aside the peas from underfoot.

Fuckity-fuck-fucker.

Pickles it was then, since I didn't fancy eating floor peas or butter straight from the tub.

Snatching up the jar I sat up on the counter and opened it, fishing one of the little morsels out and chewing on it meditatively.

I didn't really like pickles. They tasted like vinegar and crunch and not much else. Especially these ones, which I suspected I had owned since I moved to Gotham.

Dents invite caught my eye again and I looked over at it morosely, munching my way through what was going to be dinner for tonight. There was no RSVP date, since I suspected the nightclub could hold however many people showed up. There was a little spiel about how much Mr. Dent would just adore everyone to come along before it got to the super fine print that promised free booze and food for as long as the party lasted.

Hold on…

I read it again, setting down the pickle jar and holding the invite to my nose. Yes, right there, under the address in little gold letters was printed:

Open Bar and Buffet for All Guests

Holy crap on a cracker.

My stomach rumbled again and I debated just how stupid and desperate I wanted to be about this. Was my safety and my winning streak for avoiding villains really worth the slight possibility of a good meal and something to drink other than tap water? Could I be that deliriously hungry?

No. That was stupid. So, so stupid.

I jumped off the counter and headed back to the living room, scooping up the other invites and reading them far more carefully to see if any of them promised food too. None of them said it openly and most of them were being held in way, way, way uptown places I couldn't afford to get too. I didn't have money for food, how the hell would I afford a taxi out to one of those estates so far away and so large they had their own zip code?

I could take the subway to the nightclub; I knew the line I would have to use and it let out less than a block away from where Dent was having his party. It would be crazy public, cameras, press, famous big-wig people everywhere and…

No. Jesus Kate no! What was I thinking?!

Months I'd avoided capture, months I'd been safe…

Safe...or just scared and paranoid? Holed up in my apartment and looking over my shoulder every minute when I wasn't in it. Scraping together enough money to keep a roof over my head and terrified of the moment my land lord was going to utter the same words my boss had not so long ago. Sorry Kate, but you're just too dangerous to keep around.

I chewed my bottom lip and with a sudden surge of confidence stood up and made for my bathroom. I was going to prove something to myself and to Gotham. I was Kate Strider, I was the 'Batman Chick' and I wasn't afraid!

I was just fucking hungry!

It took me an hour to make myself pretty and another hour to find creative ways to hide all the protection I had been collecting for months. A cute bracelet full of pepper spray, a single use stun gun shaped like a tube of lipstick, a double chain necklace that could be clicked together and tightened into handcuffs, a Sig P238 380 ACP Pearl Grip gun that I discovered could be far too easily hidden in an eBay-bought thigh holster. Finally I finished it all off by putting my hair up and using my lock picking tools as decorative hair pins. Surprisingly they looked kind of nice.

I wore kitten heel knee high boots and stashed some zip ties and a flick knife inside them then packed my clutch purse with the last of my cash, my credit card, ID, and the invite to Dents party. I hesitated with my phone, suspicious that it had been as silent as it had been tonight. Usually it rang every couple of hours.

I took it anyway then armed the three alarms I had installed and strode out of the apartment, shoulders back, head up and chin out like I was totally in control.

That confidence lasted two steps down the hall until a bunch of kids jumped out from around the corner in costume and I was pretty sure my heart got close to exploding.

Except it didn't, and the kids didn't do anything but grin at me so I spent the short walk to the subway station alternating between contemplating my stupidity and wondering what type of food Harvey Dent would be serving.

I was hoping they would have those little mini meat balls on sticks. I loved those.

Surprisingly that thought gave me courage, or at least gave my stomach courage, and the train ride was spent thinking about meatballs and martinis and whether the guy two seats down from me looked familiar.

There were quite a few people in costume on the subway, but none of them were heading where I was so when the train eventually slowed into my station it was just me and two tired looking business men who got off. I kept an eye on them but as soon as we got to street level they hurried away in separate directions and I was left to walk the half a block around the corner to the club alone, jumping at every sound.

The club itself was massive and surrounded by more people than I thought logically should have existed in one place, but it was surprisingly quiet with only the trailing notes of classical music ambling out as the door was opened to allow people in.

There was a red carpet flanked by swarms of photographers all calling out at the same time to the very expensive people walking along it.

Thankfully there was another line nearby, one filled with the normals of Gotham milling as they waited to be let in.

I joined that line, pressing my back against the wall and shuffling along with my head down. No one noticed me and the only recognition I got was when I got to the front of the line and presented my invite to bouncer. He looked me over, obviously knowing my face and name but said nothing and stepped aside so I could walk past him into the club.

Just like on the outside the club inside was huge and packed from wall to wall. My heart was pounding like a freight train and I was having trouble breathing as people nudged, elbowed and crowded around me while they moved from the dance floor to the bar or vice versa.

Every time someone bumped me I jumped and I was fast edging towards what I knew was going to be a panic attack. I could feel the paranoia and anxiety weighing on me and I was starting to choke.

This had been such a stupid, stupid idea.

Blessedly the music was calm and slow and easy, but it did nothing to stop my body beginning to shake as someone else apologised loudly for nearly spilling their drink on me as they walked past. Their face was covered with a clown mask.

I nearly threw up.

"Miss Strider?"

I gasped, going tense all over and spinning to face the source of whatever voice had said my name. A scream died in my throat.

Before me loomed Two Face, Harvey Dent, the host of the party. I swallowed hard and my hand twitched towards my bracelet, gripping it and getting ready to squirt it in his face and run.

I must have looked petrified or queasy or something in between because Dent held up both hands and took a step back, smiling in what he probably thought was a comforting way.

It wasn't.

Even with the mask that hid the scarred side of his face and the glove that covered his hand I could almost feel the leathery burns pressing into my throat where he'd once had a hold of me.

God I was so stupid.

"Miss Strider, I'm sorry I startled you. Please, I mean you no harm." He sounded resoundingly honest.

I didn't believe him.

I glanced around, eyes flicking to the people casually milling as though Two Face wasn't standing right in the middle of them.

"…Hi." I managed to get out, shifting from foot to foot and resisting the urge to bolt. Someone bumped into me and I hunched into myself, twitching away from whoever it was. Dent noticed and stepped in closer than I would have liked, gesturing to a raised platform that was near on empty aside from some very famous people.

I was torn, not willing to be made vulnerable by the lack or surrounding bodies but knowing I wouldn't cope much longer in such a claustrophobic spot. I hesitated then strode for the platform, taking the stairs as confidently as I could and sitting down quickly on one of the plush red couches.

Dent joined me. Blessedly he sat on the other side of the platform but he was looking at me with surprising concern.

"You should have a drink." He said carefully, gesturing to the back of the platform and speaking with a ridiculous level of calm. I wrapped my arms around myself and glanced to the table he was indicating to.

It was covered in food, all manner of nibbly things and fancy looking drinks. There was even a tray of meatballs on sticks.

My stomach growled and I swallowed hard.

"Is it drugged?" I asked as casually as I could manage, looking back to Dent. To his credit he didn't look offended. Actually he just looked a little pained.

"No." He said softly, shaking his head. "If it sooths your nerves any…" He trailed off and pointed over the sea of people shifting around the club to a group of men in police uniform pacing the room. I scanned the faces and picked out quite a few I recognised, the most obvious one being Police Commissioner Gordon, who was eyeing everything with suspicion.

I made a breathy kind of choking noise and ducked in my seat.

"Why'd it have to be Gordon?" I muttered darkly, aware that I was probably making a fool of myself. I could feel the strange looks I was getting as I dropped to my knees and knelt on the floor, peeking over the lush red chair to see if the Commish had spotted me.

I glanced back at Dent, who was looking perplexed.

"Miss Strider…what?"

I peeked over the chair again and winced when Commissioner Gordon glanced our way.

"If he sees me he'll tell Batman I'm here." The words came out of my mouth before I considered them and I went stiff, doing a good impression of a cod-fish at how stupid I could have just managed to be.

Not only did I just bring Batman into the conversation with a recently released Asylum patient with a fixation on him but I also managed to convey how 'unsupervised' I was by said fixation.

Dent chuckled, baffilingly, and waved the other socialites back to what they were doing before he joined me on the floor.

I stared at him and he shrugged.

"If you're going to have a floor party I think I should join you. No doubt it will be more entertaining than what tonight's shaping up to be." He pointed to the socialites on the same platform as us and whispered conspiratorially. "These people have always been boring."

I actually smiled. Though it wasn't because I was happy or found the situation amusing. It was something to do with my face other than look like a fish forgetting to close its mouth.

I wondered if this was what Harvey Dent was like before his accident. He must have been charming, considering how quickly he rose in his career.

It was terrifying to think he could fake this charming façade well enough to get himself out of Arkham.

It was also terrifyingly weird to be chilling on the floor with him like we were casual friends at a slumber party. He didn't seem to notice that I was trying to meld back further into the lounge seat.

"Now. How about that drink?" He asked with another smile. I blinked and watched as Dent made a show of standing and heading across the platform. He grabbed two sealed bottles of very fancy, very expensive water and strode back with a confidence that made me wince. He handed one to me and ignored the baffled looks from our fellow platformers when he slumped back onto the floor.

All I could think as he smiled at me from behind his white half masked face was: what the fuck is happening?

I looked over the water carefully before cracking it open and taking a sip. It tasted better than tap water that's for sure.

"Thank you." I said cautiously. Dent smiled back.

"I didn't think you'd take anything already opened from me." He admitted.

I nodded, agreeing that he was very, very right. We sipped our water in silence and I kept my eyes firmly on everything but him, just waiting for someone to jump out and try to grab me while Two Face laughed manically.

Instead all I got was Dent fiddling with a loose thread on his gloved hand and looking steadfastly at me.

This was just so creepy and strange. I didn't quite know how to react.

"You don't trust me."

I jumped, snapping my attention back to Dent and trying to stifle the admission in my head that with the scarred side of his face covered he could have passed as good looking. If you didn't know the horrors he hid under it.

"No." I admitted firmly. "It's hard to trust a man who used you as a meat shield while his goons shot up the cops." I didn't say it with nearly enough venom, it actually just came out like I was recounting a bad weekend I would have rather forgotten.

Dent winced, rubbing his hands over the bottle of water and nodding.

"Yes. Not one of my…better life choices." He nodded to himself, looking once again far too regretful for a mad man. I just snorted at his understatement of the century. "If I may pry Miss Strider, why are you here then? Since you obviously don't trust me?"

I swallowed some more water and couldn't help my eyes flicking back to the table laden with food. My stomach growled louder and I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Being associated with Batman doesn't leave my accounts in the black much." I muttered out, drinking some more water.

Dent seemed puzzled, then he followed my eyes to the food and I could have punched him for how sympathetic his next look was.

"Ah." He frowned and drank some more water, I drank some more water. We avoided looking at each other until he spoke again. "Take as much as you want."

I struggled with the rage that shot through me but I couldn't stop myself from glaring at him.

"I don't need your sympathy." I spat out, relishing the way anger so quickly dissipated the nerves and anxiety in me. Where once I would have cried, now I just got angry. "You're one of the ones who put me here."

I had expected Two Face to hit me for that. I expected the sharp sting across my face that would make my ears ring and my jaw ache for days. The hit never came, instead Harvey Dent stared back at me, face pained.

"I know." He said softly, guiltily. "That's why…" He rolled the water bottle around in his hands some more. "That's why I invited you, it's the only reason I came to speak to you when you came in. I didn't think you would have anything to do with me but I had…hoped…I would get a chance to apologise"

I was so floored by what he'd said I nearly spilt water on myself. As it was I just choked on it, spluttering and trying to make myself breathe properly. Dent looked like he wanted to help me, but wisely refrained. He probably guessed I would break his nose.

"I…ah…" I coughed some more then composed myself. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Nothing. I know it's not that simple." Dent cut me off and I clenched and unclenched my jaw a couple of times.

"No." I said firmly, eyeing him. "It's not."

Harvey Dent nodded, then his eyes trailed over my head and he smiled a little too wide for my liking. I followed his gaze and winced up at the bespeckled face of Commissioner Gordon.

"Good evening, Kate." He said it with all the formality that would be expected of the Commissioner of Police. I could see the confusion behind his carefully constructed civility. I had no doubt the confusion had to do with Harvey Dent and myself sitting on the floor in the middle of a high-to-do fancy dress party.

"Hi Jim." I tried to smile but it came out like a grimace. The Commish headed up the steps so he was standing on the platform between us, looking down at both of us with raised eyebrows.

"I'm surprised to see you here. I thought perhaps you would be home tonight." He said carefully.

"Yeah. Well, what can I say? I needed a change of scenery." That anger came back and I shrugged, looking away dismissively. Jim gave me a look that loitered somewhere between fatherly concern and sympathy and I drank some more of my water, finishing the bottle and pointedly ignoring him.

"Miss Strider and I were just chatting Commissioner." Dent interjected, standing from his lounging spot on the floor and smiling charmingly. I chose to ignore him too.

"Do you think that's wise Mr. Dent?" There was a protective note to Gordon's voice and I sighed.

"Probably not." I declared loudly, pushing myself back into the conversation. "But don't worry Jim, I was just about to leave. I had a stupid reason for coming anyway." I stood, surprised when Dent reached down and helped me up by my elbow. I flinched and the Commissioner put a steady hand on the gun hidden under his suit jacket.

Dent stepped back quickly.

"Well. If you're leaving, at least take a party favour with you." Dent strode to the table at the back of the platform and returned a moment later with a silver tray piled high with all the fancy little nibbly things and meatballs on sticks. I eyed it hungrily.

I saw Gordon going to protest and I snatched the tray from Dent before he could, feeling a little victorious when the smell hit me and made my stomach grumble again.

"Thank you." I said loudly, then without further pause for comment, turned and made for the exit.

The Commissioner stayed hot on my heels all the way out of the club and I ignored the odd looks from everyone at the tray I was bringing out with me.

"Why were you on the floor?" He asked after a long moment of silence filled only with soft classical music and people getting out of my way. I shrugged.

"I was trying to avoid you seeing me because, frankly, you'll tell Batman." I left that hanging and ate a meatball as we waited for the bouncer to open the door. It was a damn good meatball. "As for Dent, I don't know. It was...weird?" It came out more like a question right at the end because I wasn't sure if there was a better word to describe the odd 'floor-picnic'.

"We only want to keep you safe." Gordon said eventually, seeming to ignore the second part of my statement. I felt anger bubble up again and rounded to tell the Commissioner exactly what I thought of his plan to keep me safe, but stopped short when I saw the look on his face.

He looked so tired.

I reworked the words in my head and eventually could only come up with one thing to say.

"I know." I sighed out, slumping a little and eating another meatball.

When we got to the street I turned towards the subway entrance but Gordon stopped me with a gentle hand on my elbow.

"At least let me get you a police escort home, Kate. I have no idea why you came tonight but at least let me make sure you get back safe."

I pursed my lips, considered it, then let my shoulders slump and nodded.

"Ok. Thanks, Jim."

He reached out and squeezed my shoulder before he waved at a uniformed officer nearby.

A police car pulled up very shortly after that and Gordon shepherded me into the back seat, giving the officer in the drivers seat my address.

"Don't worry. He's one of my guys. You'll be fine." Jim muttered to me before he closed the door. I said my thank you, buckled up and ate my tray full of food on the way back.

Everything on the tray was the greatest thing I have ever tasted in my life and by the time we pulled up to my apartment block it was gone and all I was left with was a shiny silver tray that actually was silver.

I was thinking maybe my idea to go to the party wasn't quite as stupid as I had thought.

The officer offered to walk me up, but I declined, not willing to allow anyone I didn't know anywhere near my front door. Even if they were part of Godon's team.

I really was paranoid.

I trooped up the stairs, disarmed my alarms, locked the door behind me and was feeling pretty smug about my evening out right up until my pulse was pounding in my ears and I was bracing for an attack.

It took me a beat to figure out the source of the shot of adrenaline and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up from the unmistakable feeling of someone who wasn't meant to be in my space, being in my space.

I scanned the apartment and sucked in a breath at the dark flutter of curtains by the side window leading out to the alley.

There, silhouetted in the streetlight but otherwise hidden in the shadows of my dark apartment was the Batman. Looking as dangerous and devilish as ever.

I cursed, loudly, and flicked the light on.

Then I cursed again.

Batman was looking directly at me and from where I was standing I could see the little ringlets of shattered spotting all over the right side of his face. His mask was cracked, the curve of his right eye suddenly void of the tinted glass that always hid him.

For the first time in my life I could see a small sliver of the man behind the mask and even from this distance I could tell that his eye was a starling, disturbingly deep shade of blue.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, walking into my living room fully and dropping my bag on the coffee table.

His cape was ripped up too and if I wasn't mistaken there were a few impact marks on his chest that could only have come from several poorly aimed bullets. Good to know the Dark Knight was out there on the mean streets working I guess.

"I came to make sure you were alive." He sounded pissed, his voice low and dark. Or maybe his jaw was broken. It was bruised impressively.

"Well I am. Mission accomplished. Did Gordon call you?" I put the silver tray on my kitchen table and wondered how much it was worth. I was going to sell it. Good manners be damned I was going to sell it.

"Why did you go to Harvey Dents Halloween party?"

Ahh, there we go. He ignored my question but went straight to the point and answered it without actually answering it. There was no way the Commissioner hadn't called him. I sighed long and hard and decided I was going to expedite this conversation by being brutally honest.

I was tired. It had been a long night. Successful, since my stomach was fuller than it had been for weeks, but a long night none the less and I'd had about enough of strange conversations.

"I was hungry." I declared, pulling off my coat and beginning the process of removing all my weapons. Batman had the decency to look perplexed for half a second before his lips curled to something like a snarl.

"What?" His voice was like gravel. Like someone dragging a bag of gravel over glass. It was unpleasant. I faced him down with my shoulders squared and my hands on hips.

"I have no food. I was hungry." I said it again, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I took out my gun, setting it on the table along with my zip ties and the knife then unlatched my necklace and bracelet.

The Bat's one blue eye narrowed.

"You jeopardized your safety for food?"

Anger shot through me and I found myself suddenly wishing I had something close to hand that I could throw at him.

As it was I didn't think I'd get much distance out of my coffee table which was the only thing tossable in my sparse living room.

"Oh! And what would you know?!" I glared, pulling my shoes off and flopping down onto my couch so I didn't start considering the coffee table seriously. I could feel salty wetness prickling in my eyes and I scrubbed at them, knowing I smeared by mascara and eyeliner all over my face in the process. "I got laid off because I was too much bad publicity and I don't have any money left. No one wants to hire me." I didn't bother getting up to show the state of my fridge. I just sat there and gestured to the empty kitchen. "So I have no food."

I didn't need his disapproval. I'd been tough for months. I'd been careful and worked my ass off to keep myself out of trouble. And what had it got me?

A disturbing amount of people who knew my face and an empty bank account. I dropped my head into my hands, heaving a sigh but glad at least that the dampness in my eyes hadn't turned into full blown tears. I had no desire to cry.

"I not telling you because want your sympathy." I said suddenly, opening my eyes and looking up at him. His lips were tipped into a small frown and I was caught off guard once again by the far too blue eye that peered out at me from behind his cracked mask. "What happened to you anyway?" I saw a change of subject and jumped on it.

Batman shifted from the spot near the window where he'd been standing like a statue since I came in and I noticed his limp.

"Joker." He said simply, pulling out a chair from my kitchen table and sitting stiffly. I watched him, mildly concerned as to how badly hurt he was if he'd decided to take a seat. I'd never seen him sit down before, it was remarkably human and I almost found the sight humorous considering how big he looked in my frail little chair.

"Did you get him?" I asked. Batman just nodded with a grunt and I let out a little laugh. "That explains it then." I reached for my bag and yanked out my mobile phone, tossing it in the vigilante's general direction.

Of course he caught it; his reactions quicker than mine would ever be even when he was so obviously injured. I watched him turn it over in his hands, waiting a moment before answering the questing he was about to ask.

"Joker knows my phone number again." I said as calmly as I could. "Usual gag. He's been pranking me since he got out of Arkham. Just like every bloody time he gets out of Arkham." All the way back to the first time my sister visited. I glared at the floor. "He calls, tells me the time, laughs and hangs up. If I don't pick it up, he keeps calling. If I turn off my phone he just leaves messages that get progressively more demeaning and aggressive." I started pulling the lock picks out of my hair.

"The police just say they're doing everything they can and before you ask, yes, I've changed my number and phone twice. I had considered getting rid of it altogether but its hard enough finding a job. Having no way for them to contact me makes it near impossible" I couldn't help my sneer "And I don't have any way to contact you to ask for help."

I had a sudden urge to scream. I wanted to scream at the Batman about how angry I was, angry at him because he was allowed to run around Gotham as a vigilante and still keep the anonymity of his everyday life. While I was left to be the target in a relentless onslaught of bad guys and asylum escapees. I wanted to scream about how angry I was at the Joker, how I wanted him to leave me alone. I wanted to scream at my ex-boss and my ex-boyfriend and my ex-family and every fucking person on the street who saw my face and whispered behind their hands as I walked by them.

"So yeah. I went to Dents stupid party because I was hungry. And you know what? He was an absolute gentleman. He even apologised! We sat on the floor…It was creepy."

Batman tucked my phone into his utility belt and I resigned myself to getting another one and changing my contact details on my resume again.

Fuck.

"Alright. I'll sort it out."

I jumped a little and stirred from my angry haze as Batman's overly deep voice rose into the silence. I searched his one visible dark blue eye for sincerity and found myself nodding.

"Yeah. Well…" More silence and after a beat he took it as his cue to leave. His dark cloaked figure went to stand, struggling to his feet with a grunt as making for the window he'd come through. At some point between leaving the chair and straightening up something in his side crunched and he crumpled forward in a sudden jerking movement, huffing and trying to balance himself.

I was at his side before I thought it through, tucking myself under his arm and pushing up to support as much of his bulk as I could manage.

It wasn't much.

"Whats wrong?" I asked, glad I'd taken my heels off as I stumbled a little under his weight. His blue eye flicked to me and his jaw tightened, his lips thinning to a tight line.

"Knife." His hand was resting on the side I was pressed against and I looked down to see the spots of red that were spreading their way across my white dress. I cursed.

Another dress ruined. This was why I wasn't allowed to have nice things.

"Come on." I grumbled, hauling as hard as I could towards my bedroom, again without thinking it through. Batman resisted but I must have shot him a look so full of ice and fury that he went a little stiff and mutely allowed me to help him into the tiny room and onto my single bed.

I drew the blackout blinds and curtains then looked over at him.

"What do I do?" I asked simply, crossing my arms over my chest and trying hard not to show my discomfort.

I had learned first aid. It was a necessity in my current life. I could stitch cuts, clean them down. I'd even pulled a bullet out of someone's shoulder before, but that was a whole other story. I still wasn't comfortable with it, but I doubted Batman would like my suggestion of a hospital and as it was he looked about ready to fall back onto the bed and stop moving for good.

Batman heaved a slightly shaky breath and pulled something from his utility belt, holding it out to me.

"Seal it. I can't reach. Point and hold the red button." I took the little cylinder and knelt beside the bed, poking around at the Kevlar until I found the cut. I ignored his grunt of discomfort when I pulled the tough fabric back as much as possible so I could see the nasty jagged gash and clicked my tongue. Damn thing was deep.

As instructed I pointed the top of the cylinder at the end of the cut and held down the red button on the other side. Something that looked like sealant foam spluttered out and with a few quick passes I'd covered the gash in the stuff, watching as it hardened and seemed to contract.

Batman hissed then we both went quiet.

"You should stay put for a bit until you're ok." I said eventually, pushing myself up and handing back the cylinder. "I'll bring you some pain killers."

I went to leave but was drawn up short when Batman reached out and gripped my wrist. I stopped and looked down at his big black covered fingers clasped around my seemingly tiny hand and waited for whatever it was he was going to say.

"Thank you."

I blinked, looking up at him and rolling those two little words around in my head some more.

Some of my anger at the world leeched out and my shoulders slumped under the pressing gaze of that one visible dark blue eye.

"You're welcome."

The article on the front page of the Gotham Times the next morning read: "Batman Apprehends The Joker".

The picture of the Joker was messy. His face a mash of purple, blue, red, green and white, basically every colour know to the bruising spectrum. It was the worst Batman had ever worked over his arch nemesis, and I felt absolutely no sympathy for the twisted clown.

But the biggest surprise of that morning was taped to the sliding door leading out to my balcony. It was a small black mobile phone. Not mine. But it had all my numbers in the contact book, and all my pictures in the files, and there was a single new text message from a number listed only as 'B'. It read:

'For emergencies only'

I can still remember the smell of that morning. Still feel the weight of that phone in my hand as I held it for the first time, my feet cold on the tiles of my balcony.

That phone had been a life line that I knew would both save me and damn me. I didn't doubt it was a way for the Dark Knight to track me and I had almost pitched the damn thing onto the street below.

But I didn't.

"We had eyes on your place" Harleen commented smugly. "Batman got my Joker but he didn't get me. I followed him. I was too banged up to do anything about it but I followed him to see where he went and he went straight to you. Got a call from Jim Gordon and headed right to your window. Stayed at your apartment all night."

I was feeling an interesting mix of sick and angry. I wasn't going to show her how disgruntled I was to know she had been out there watching me that night and I wasn't going to let anyone in on the damage they had done to the Dark Knight. It would make him human, defeatable, and if it got back to the Joker he would no doubt take it as a feather in his cap. It would boost his confidence.

Joker didn't need a boost to his confidence.

Nothing had ever happened between Batman and I. I'd brought him the pain killers then crashed on my couch until well into the next morning, struggling up to see if he had left. He had.

Harleen obviously took my silence as my admission because she was grinning wider and wider. Blessedly though she didn't ask me anymore questions. Instead she just started talking about her argument with The Joker, ranting on about how insensitive he was, and how silly the idea was and how it wasn't going to work.

I knew this might have been important information to have but Harleen was careful not to let any actual details slip in, so after a while it was just the same old rhetoric about how mean her boyfriend was to her.

I tuned out.

It went on for quite a while and I started to think about meatballs on sticks and how I could really go for some right now.

"Well. Thanks for listening Katey!"

I shook myself out of my slight daze and blinked at her as Harleen began to disappear and Harley took her place. "Gotta say I can always count on you! You're such a good listener." She grinned a little madly and tilted her head. "Maybe you should be the shrink!"

I shook my head.

"Wouldn't want to end up like you." I said honestly, shrugging. Harley's eyes narrowed but otherwise she didn't openly show that she'd even heard me.

Instead she stood and bushed some of the dirt off her costume, checking herself to make sure everything was where it was meant to be before she grinned manically.

"You know I have to ask Katey, because I just have too…" She clasped her hands behind her back and lent forward so her face was almost within reaching distance of me. I eyed her off, feeling a slow trickle of adrenaline begin to pump in my veins at her posture.

This could be it.

Deep breath Kate. Don't fuck this up, just be ready.

I shifted under her gaze, bringing my legs in so they were crossed before me and moving my hands along the plank of wood hidden behind my back.

Harley brought a hand out from behind her and tapped her lips, smiling far too wide.

"Whats it like? Being I bed with the Batman?"

I barely heard the question, I saw my opportunity as her face twisted into what was no doubt going to be a laugh and snapped myself forward so fast the muscles in my legs groaned in protest.

I brought the wooden plank up and around, giving myself just enough time to get a proper grip on it like I was holding a baseball bat before I swung.

I caught a surprised Harley in the chin, snapping her head aside so fast I could almost hear her brain slap into her skull as she stumbled. She swayed and went to reach for something in her bag but I was already up and she was already concussed.

I swung again, this time taking her hard in her temple with enough force to knock her off her feet. She turned rag doll mid-air and landed with a slack 'thump' to the dusty floor of the cellar.

I heaved in air, shaking and waiting with the wooden plank poised to see if she would get up again.

She didn't.

I laughed a mildly hysterical, incredibly breathless laugh.

Authors Notes: Long chapter I know. Couldn't help it. It just came out this big. Please Read and Review, it makes me smile.