Bruce walked into to Amanda's office, wearing a suit and tie.
"Did you find her?" Bruce asked, a bit eager. He had been blaming himself for Bethany's kidnapping. He was so focused on Joker that he didn't think of an accomplice. The Joker always had a way out, why did Bruce think this would be any different?
"No. Bethany's gone."
"She's dead? Joker killed his own kid?"
"No, she's not dead. But she's not Bethany." Amanda sat down and rubbed her temples. "Now, it's only a theory, because I didn't see her, but-"
"You think he dropped her in acid like Quinn?" Amanda nodded. "Dammit."
"She aided in Quinn's escape. She even left us a card, like her father." Amanda threw the card at Bruce. He closed his eyes and forced himself not to crush the card. "Our objective has changed."
"Amanda, give the girl another chance."
"And have her turn into a younger, a more energetic, version of her mother? I can't take that chance, and neither can you." Amanda could see that Bruce wasn't fully convinced. "How many people does she have to kill before you'll agree to help us? You wanna give me a number? I'm okay with that. Numbers I can work with." Amanda sat back in her chair, lowering her gaze. "A number, Wayne." She repeated.
"I'll find her, but I won't take her out."
"I wasn't expecting you too, that's my job."
"And I want to talk to her before you do anything…permanent." Amanda nodded. "And a word of advice?" Amanda nodded again, waiting for his advice. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." Bruce left, leaving Amanda to stay with the remaining tension in the room.
"I'll try." Amanda spoke to herself.
Lucy sat with her legs draped over the side of a chair. She flipped through a magazine, circling items with a sharpie. She wore black skinny jeans that looked like they went through a blender. Her velvet shirt matched her boots, that were slowly moving back and forth. Her skin wasn't much change, even after the bath she had in acid, she refused to wear make-up. Her hair was the big difference. Before, her hair lay flat, a dirty blonde, but now it was a bleached color that somehow became thicker, looking more like Harley's. Lucy kept her hair in a high ponytail most of the time, she tried to braid it, but the weight was too much on her neck.
"Lucy," Harley yelled from her room, "are my boots in the living room?" Lucy bent her head backwards, pressing the back of her back into the chair. She saw her mother's boots underneath one of the tables.
"Yeah."
"Would you grab them for me?"
"Why? Something wrong with your legs?" Harley walked out.
"I was relaxing." She whined.
"I am too."
"What are you doing?"
"I want more clothes, and this mini fridge."
"When are you going to get it?" Harley could not express how happy she was that she could call her daughter by her birth name, and that she could have this normal, boring, conversation about shopping.
"Eh, whenever I get hungry, I'll go get some food too."
"Can I come?" Harley asked, like a child asking for an extra cookie after dinner.
"Mom," Lucy groaned, "you promised I could do a heist on my own."
"I know, but you haven't done one on your own, and I'll be worried. What if you need back up?"
"Dad taught me a lot before we rescued you, and this isn't an art gallery, Mom, it's just a small mall. I'm working my way up, just let me do it." Lucy pushed herself off the chair and grabbed a pair of keys. "I'll be back in, like, 20 minutes." Lucy wrapped her arms briefly around Harley.
"Don't rush, Lucy, take your time. I love you."
"Love you, too."
Joker walked into the room as Lucy left. "She's headed off to her first solo heist." Harley wrapped her arms around herself. "We should follow her."
"Harl, don't smother her. She'll be fine."
"Yeah, she'll be fine." Harley repeated.