Chapter Five: Brothers
What are you doing Harley? The natural voice of Harleen Quinzel echoed in Harley's mind as the young woman lay on her bed.
"Whaddya want now, ya bitch?! I ain't doing nothing wrong – so you can fuck off!" Harley snapped at her better half.
No need for that kind of language, it's rude to swear.
"Not if I'm swearing ta mahself it ain't!" Harley growled out loud.
Yes, Harley, it's still rude. But I don't mean right this second; you gave up everything! Your brains, your career, your friends, all for that clown - and where has that landed you? At Arkham Asylum, as a patient!
"Puddin' is the best thing tha' eva happened ta me! You just don't understand him the way I do! He loves me, like I love him." The jester's voice was dreamy, and Harleen snorted.
The bruises all over us don't seem to agree.
"That wasn't his fault! I pissed me off – or was it you?" Harley thought for a moment, her head cocked to the side and an exaggerated pout on her lips. "It was you, ya dumb broad!"
Like you weren't going to do it eventually anyway, Harleen's voice snapped back. And I'm not sure who you're calling dumb, which one of us got a PhD?
"Shut ya damn mouth." Harley scowled and rubbed her temples. "Y'know, whenever you come along I get a headache."
You think I don't? Harleen asked sarcastically. Nothin' worse than hearing your voice when I'm trying to figure out how to deal with your messes.
"Hey, I don't get in that many messes!" Harley shouted indignantly. Harleen only snorted incredulously.
Our life is a mess, Harley.
"Rude."
I said 'our', not 'your.' I take some responsibility in this. She was silent for a moment, and much sadder when she spoke again. I'm sorry I've never been able to stop him from hurting you. I tried.
"Aww shucks." Harley giggled and blushed at the sentiments. "Ya real cute, but ya ain't gotta worry. It won't happen again."
"What won't happen again?"
The woman screamed loudly and whirled on the bed to face the door. She scowled when she saw a familiar man in a mask. "Whatcha talkin' about Batsy? I didn't say nothing." Harley snapped, embarrassed at him hearing what she had said.
Batman simply stared at her, and eventually the silence became too much for her. "Just a nightmare," she muttered, scowling at the Dark Knight. "And anyway, why are you here? Don't tell me I gotta deal with you and Brucie!"
"You won't see me often." The vigilante's deep voice was patient as he spoke to the woman in front of him. "Mr Wayne has asked me to make sure his house is secure enough for you to stay here."
Harley groaned. "Great. So I'm living with some playboy who's tryna be nice to me and giving me some bullshit line that he wants to help me, and now I got ya basically accusing me of runnin' away! Don't I get a choice in this?!"
"No."
"Of course not. At least there's two boys here. Bruce's sons, y'know?" Harley found herself smiling as she thought about the boys she had met the day before. She laughed loudly at Batman's eyes narrowed slightly, a shrill noise that sent Harleen wincing to the back corners of their mind. "Don't get the wrong idea there – I didn't mean it in a creepy way or nuttin'!" She pouted for a minute, and her voice was exaggeratedly sad when she spoke again. "I had three brothers, can't blame a gal for liking the company."
Of all the things about his sons she could have said, he was not expecting that. Truth be told, no one at Arkham had really gone through the files on Harley's family other than her main psychiatrist Joan Leland; and, while the jester was very open about her obsession with the Joker, she had refused to speak about her past life with anyone. Bruce hadn't even known she had one brother, let alone three. He also made a note of her past tense when referring to her siblings, and stored the information away for later examination. Before he could ask any questions about her family, however, Harley had begun to speak again.
"Can I ask you a question now?"
"No." Batman's voice held no hesitation, and Harley glared at him.
"You don't even know what I was gonna ask! It wasn't nothin' personal!"
The Dark Knight sighed. "Harleen, I'm not answering your questions. Ask someone else - isn't Mr. Wayne's job in this situation to talk to you?" A second later, he realised he'd set himself up for the next time he spoke to her as Bruce Wayne, but he couldn't find a way to retract his statement.
"Maybe, yeah, but his life is all over the papers. Not the same thing, really." Harley spoke softly, then turned away from Batman, ending the conversation abruptly.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew when he decided to take her in. Surely she knew he couldn't tell her anything about his life, and she'd never wanted to ask him a serious question before. He was was hardly the only one who was hiding things either – Harley was known to clam up, or become violent, if someone brought up her life before the Joker, as Harleen Quinzel. The vigilante shook his head and walked to the door, when Harley called out to him.
"Bats? I need some face paint. I don't have any, and this one's two days old - I forgot to take it off." Her voice was distant and very unlike the enthusiastic screeching he was used to hearing from her.
"If you ask Mr Wayne he'll get you the paint, but only for a while. Then you can't use it." Batman said, still thinking about what she had said. "Are you still in contact with your brothers?" He hadn't even meant to ask the question; it had just been on his mind.
Harley sounded very angry when she spoke, even though he could no longer see her face, and her messy pigtails bounced angrilymessy pigtails bounced angrily. "Ya won't answer a question you ain't even heard, but ya want me to answer that? I ain't telling you jack shit."
"Alright then." And the door closed, leaving Harley Quinn alone with the memories she wished she could forget.
OoOoO
Bruce knew he should have left the matter the moment she made it clear that she didn't want to be open with him yet. It wasn't a surprise, not when he considered how long Batman and Harley Quinn had been enemies for. Perhaps as Bruce Wayne he would have more luck in gaining her trust, but it was beginning to become clear that she didn't intend for it to be a one-way situation. It was definitely better to let her open up in her own time, without any pressure or interference from anyone.
None of these decisions were enough to stop him researching her family anyway.
"Master Wayne, I assume everything is alright with Dr Quinzel for now?" Alfred asked as he entered the Batcave. He looked at the screen as Bruce typed in her name and raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything that I should know?"
"She needs some more face paint," Bruce answered distractedly as he selected one of Harley's files. In truth, he had never read up on anything about her family or her past, beyond a few key details that could be used to find her after an escape from Arkham. It seemed as though he would need to know more now, since the purpose had shifted to her rehabilitation. He scrolled down, barely reading the pages on her early childhood and academic abilities – which, even to him, were impressive – and stopped at the page he was most interested in.
Family:
Father: Nick Quinzel – serving in Blackgate Penitentiary for three more years
Mother: Sharon Quinzel – deceased
Paternal Uncle: Louie Quinzel – living in Metropolis
Paternal Aunt: Alice Quinzel – living in Metropolis
Brother: Barry Quinzel – whereabouts unknown
Brother: Frankie Quinzel – whereabouts unknown
Brother: Ezzie Quinzel – whereabouts unknown
Nephew (by Barry Quinzel): Nicky Quinzel – living in Gotham City
Niece (by Barry Quinzel): Jenny Quinzel – living in Gotham City
It wasn't a large family, but the unidentified locations of her brothers concerned him. He made a note to question Commissioner Gordon on the available information.
"Her father is in prison too?" Alfred asked, looking at the file from behind Bruce. Neither of them were surprised; it was unfortunate, but crime often ran in the family, especially in a city like Gotham.
"Yes, he went back in six months ago or so. Identity theft and fraud." It was the ninth time that Harley'd father had been to jail, and even Bruce felt sympathy for her as he considered growing up in a household like that.
Apparently, Alfred felt the same. "Poor girl."
"She's still a criminal Alfred," he reminded the elder man. "We can't forget that."
"Indeed, we must remember that she is dangerous to all of us," Alfred agreed. "But I must admit, I wonder how she would have turned out, had her family been… more conventional, and she not come into contact with the Joker."
"I'm not sure," Bruce murmured, closing the file. "A very different woman, that's for sure."
"Then I only hope we can help her to become that woman, or at least one with more to live for than Harley Quinn does." He hesitated for a moment, and Bruce looked over at him expectantly. "I cannot help but wonder, sir, if searching through her files fpr the information you want is truly the way to gain her trust."
"That wasn't my plan for everything." The response was immediate and somewhat childish, especially to Bruce's ears. "I want her to open up to Bruce Wayne, but there's no point in even attempting to make it happen as Batman."
"I must agree with you there, sir, it will take nothing short of a miracle for her to attempt to 'bond' with the Batman." Alfred allowed. "But I understand that the young lady specifically does not like talking about her family or life before crime?" At Bruce's nod, he continued. "It seems rather counterproductive for you to search up the information when you want her to feel able to talk about it on her own terms. The goal is for Dr Harleen Quinzel to recover, is it not?"
Chastised. Bruce nodded again. "I'll make sure I remember that in the future."
"Very good, Master Wayne." Alfred smiled, before glancing at the clock. "Good Lord, uit's far too late for such an old man to still be awake. I think I will retire for the night, sir."
"Of course, I won't be up for too much longer."
"This is a good thing that you're doing, sir, you should be very proud of yourself." He didn't give the younger man a chance to respond and patted his shoulder in a fatherly manner. "Good night. Do not stay up for the entire night." He warned half-heartedly, though they both knew that Bruce would if he had the slightest inclination to.
Bruce didn't point this out, however, and merely smiled. "Good night Alfred."
A/N: Leave me a review, you know I love 'em!