Harley has seen weird. She's seen weirder than weird. From giant crocodile and shark monsters tearing pieces out of each other to a dwarf in a top hat buttering biscuits for a rabbit. But there was something especially bizarre about watching the Police Commissioner's daughter bustling- wheeling?- about her previously untouched kitchen, pulling gadgets from her chair or pockets or seemingly out of thin air to assist her whenever she couldn't reach something as she nervously made tea for them. Harley sat at her new kitchen table, her first kitchen table, really; as Barbara poured two steaming cups and brought them over.

"So, uh, what exactly where you doing here?" Harley asked, watching as Barbara pushed the chair on the other side of the table out of her way before taking it's place.

"Well, I was updating the software for the building's security system. I could've just done it remotely from the... place where we, uhhh..."

"The Batcave?" Harley asked. She would've found it funny, how uneasy the young woman in front of her was, if she weren't just as uncomfortable. She tried not to think about her time with The Joker very much, but now she couldn't help remembering how hard she had laughed when he recounted the story to her, giggling all the way as he told her how he'd almost driven James Gordon mad. She hadn't known how bad it was until after she left him, his twisted version of the story almost making him out like he was the hero. Now the thought that she had laughed at what he'd done? Simply because it had made him so happy? It made her feel sick as she struggled not to start crying again.

Barbara's eye twitched at Harley's words. She, like almost everyone in his family save for Alfred, had cautioned Bruce against telling Harley anything personal, even something that was seemingly innocent. She was trying very hard not to be angry about the fact that Harley knew who she was now.

"Yes, the Batcave. But I don't like being cooped up there for too long so I figured I'd do it in person. So, what are you doing here? You weren't supposed to be released for another three days." She questioned, quirking an eyebrow at the puzzled look on Harley's face. "Ya mean Batman didn't say?"

Barbara sighed, sipping her tea before removing her glasses and rubbing her tired eyes. "He doesn't tell me nearly as much as he should. I got the alert when Arkham's alarm was tripped and sent it to him, then I asked if he needed me back at the Cave and he just said 'no, we've got it covered'", Harley chuckled slightly at Barbara's impression of Batman. "Then he hung up on me and I haven't heard from any of those jerks in almost" she said, checking her watch, "three hours. So, care to fill me in?" Harley took a deep breath as she wrapped her hands around her previously untouched tea. In a quiet voice she began to relay the night's events, leaving out what the Joker tried doing to her just before Batman arrived, not wanting to to remind Barbara of what he'd done to her though Harley was sure she was thinking about it anyways. There was a dark glint in Barbara's eyes, something akin to malicious glee hardly befitting a superhero as Harley told her the Joker was currently in a braindead coma, Batman having beaten him to within an inch of his life. Harley tried not to think about how close he came to breaking his only rule, though she was certain he would've continued until his hands were broken and he was just punching a red smear on the ground had she not stopped him. She then told Barbara of Batman and Nightwing's arguement with her father, and her early release.

"Then he gave me the key and dropped me off, and here we are." She finished, her shoulder's sagging as she was finally hit by just how tired she was.

"Holy shit." Barbara breathed, wide eyed as she took in the story. "Well, here's hoping the son of a bitch never wakes up." She muttered.

Harley smiled slightly, raising her mug. "I'll drink to that." She said, laughing softly. Barbara seemed to debate something for a moment before pointing a thumb over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow. "Ya know, the pantry is fully stocked, we didn't really know what you liked so Batman had me order a little of everything, and I'm pretty sure there's wine, too." Harley's smile turned mischievous as she stood to go confirm her new friend's suspicion.

...

Several hours later, as dawn broke over Gotham, a large black shape moved silently through the city, almost flying from rooftop to rooftop before shooting suddenly to the apex of a non-descript highrise apartment building. The Batman landed silently, moving swiftly to what appeared to simply be a rather large rooftop air conditioning unit. He removed the gauntlet and glove from his right hand before pressing his palm to a seemingly random panel, and a moment later the entire unit began to ascend, revealing the elevator that was housed underneath. He stepped in and as soon as the doors were closed he removed his cowl. Bruce was beyond tired, the previous night's events having worn on his already frayed nerves. He'd come closer than he ever had to outright murdering a man with his own two hands. Of course, some enemies had died in the past, usually caught in the crossfire or killed by their own hubris. And while he often blamed himself for not being able to save them, he had never directly killed anyone himself. The fear of what he might become if he ever crossed that line was ever-present, and it was even more so now. The elevator ride was brief as only a moment later he stepped inside his penthouse on the top floor. In recent years it had become something of a sanctuary to him, the one place on earth that was truly private for him, inaccessible to anyone but himself and his most trusted allies and even then it was only with his express permission. Even Clark Kent, whom Bruce considered the closest thing he had to a brother, had never set foot in this place. Normally when Bruce was here it meant the city was relatively at peace, and he could afford himself a few precious moments of quiet relaxation. He would usually indulge in a very rare drink, or read something other than police reports and criminal files. As a boy, before his parents were killed, he had delighted in mystery novels; his collections of Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Gray Ghost novelizations and, yes, complete set of Hardy Boys first editions were safely tucked away here. But today he simply walked into the bathroom, washed his face and rinsed the sweat from his matted hair before donning his mask again as he made his way back to the elevator. A minute later the elevator came to a halt as Bruce waited for the soft blue light above the doors to come on, indicating that there was no one in the hallway outside. The the wall across from the normal, non-secret elevator opened up to reveal the Batman, who stepped out onto the building's fifth floor before the wall behind him closed again; the panels sliding perfectly into place, concealing the elevator once more. He turned and walked to the end of the hall, stopping in front of the last door to the right before gently knocking. After a few moments he knocked again, listening intently for any sound on the other side of the door. Hearing nothing he tried the handle, alarms going off in his head as he found it was unlocked. With his right hand he pulled a razor sharp batarang from his belt, gripping it almost like a knife and with his left he removed a handful of smoke pellets. He opened the door silently, melting into the shadows as he crept into the apartment. He eyed the kitchen to his left, noting the forgotten teacups on the counter and the red stain on the tiled floor. He thought for a moment it may be blood until the mass spectrometer built into his cowl finished it's scan. His 'detective vision', as Dick Grayson had dubbed it so many years ago, informed him the stain was simply red wine. It seemed someone had spilled it and then, perhaps drunkenly, neglected to clean it up. His gaze shifted to the living room as he moved further into the apartment before he stopped short, dropping his guard completely. He stared in disbelief, first at the empty wheelchair that was parked next to the couch and then at the two women sitting before him. Two bottles of red wine sat empty on the coffee table in front of them, and a third bottle of white was only half full next to those. The credits of the Disney animated Robin Hood movie rolled on the television as Bruce stared wide-eyed at Harley Quinn and the former Batgirl, both wrapped in a large blanket, leaning against one another and sleeping soundly on the couch.

...

Please review. Also wash your hands, drink plenty of water and don't go to crowded places unless you absolutely have to, stay safe peoples.