"I told you, Mommy, I ain't afraid of the rain!" said Harleen Quinzel. "And Jack says he doesn't mind!"
"I really don't, Mrs. Quinzel," said Jack.
"Go on, Gladys, let them go out," said Mr. Quinzel, looking up from his newspaper. "Harley's tired of being cooped up in here."
"She'll catch her death of cold out there!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel, gesturing to the rain outside.
"It's just drizzling," said Mr. Quinzel. "We'll make sure she's bundled up warm, and Jack'll make sure she's not out for too long. An hour, two at most, ok, Jack?"
"Sure thing, Mr. Quinzel," he said, nodding.
Mrs. Quinzel glared at her husband. "George, can I have a word in private, please?" she muttered, gesturing toward their room. He nodded, standing up and putting down his paper.
"I don't want to send Harley out alone with that boy," she snapped when the door was shut.
"Gladys, it's been weeks now," said Mr. Quinzel. "Why don't you trust Jack?"
"I do trust him," she snapped. "I trust him to behave himself under supervision. But out there, in the streets of Gotham…who knows what he got up to out there before he came here? Maybe he'll try to get his hands on some drugs, or take Harley to some disreputable place…"
"Gladys, he's not going to put her in any danger," interrupted Mr. Quinzel. "Haven't you seen the two of them together? He's crazy about her."
"Don't you ever worry that you're far too trusting, George Quinzel?" she demanded. "I don't want to risk our daughter's safety with some boy from the streets! If something happened to her, I would never forgive myself, and neither would you!"
"No," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "But it won't, Gladys. Jack is a good boy, and I trust him like my own son. He's a hard worker – I've never seen such dedication to a job, and he picks things up fast. If he encountered some danger out with Harley, he would use that same quick thinking to keep her safe. He'd probably do a better job than either of us, anyway, since he's used to having to think on his feet."
She glared at him, but nodded. "He brings her back in one hour," she muttered. "Or I'm calling the police."
Mr. Quinzel nodded. "Good news, Harley," he said, returning to the living room. "Your Mommy says you and Jack can go outside!"
"Yay!" cried Harley, clapping her hands.
"Let's get you bundled up," said Mrs. Quinzel, picking her up and carrying her to her room.
"Gladys wants you to be back in an hour," said Mr. Quinzel to Jack, sitting down and picking up his paper again. "So it's important that you obey her."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Quinzel," said Jack, nodding. "I will, sir."
"I know you will, Jack," he said, smiling at him. "You're a good kid. I'm gonna miss you when you've found a place of your own, and so will Harley."
"I don't think Mrs. Quinzel will," said Jack.
"That's not your fault," said Mr. Quinzel, gently. "Gladys is a very practical woman, and that's why I love her. She's also very careful, and concerned about keeping her family safe, even at the risk of seeming unkind to others. But you continue to be kind and polite and take care of Harley, and she'll come round. She won't have a choice."
"Let's go, Jack!" said Harley, skipping out of her room dressed in a thick coat, hat, scarf, and gloves.
"Be back in an hour!" repeated Mrs. Quinzel, waving at them from the door as they left the apartment and strolled out into the streets of Gotham.
"Hold my hand, Harley," said Jack, as they walked down the street toward the park. "Don't want you getting lost in these crowds."
He walked slower so that her smaller legs could keep up with him, and was keeping his eyes fixed on Harley, so that he didn't see the man smoking in the alleyway they were passing.
"Well, well, well, Jack Napier," said the man, and Jack looked up in apprehension at the figure.
"Mr. Valestra," he said. "Good to see you."
"Hi, Jack's friend!" said Harley, waving at him.
Mr. Valestra smiled, puffing out a cloud of smoke at Harley. "Who's the kid?" he asked.
"Don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Valestra," retorted Jack, coldly.
Mr. Valestra chuckled. "Speaking of business, Jack, I ain't seen your Pop around for a couple months. Hope he's all right?"
"He's dead," retorted Jack.
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Mr. Valestra, in an insincere voice. "Was it the cops?"
Jack shrugged. "Dunno. Just know there was a raid, and a lotta shooting and screaming. Got outta there as fast as I could."
"And where are you staying now?" asked Mr. Valestra, casually, tapping out his cigarette.
"I also don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Valestra," retorted Jack. "My father is dead, your business with him is over, and we don't have anything more to talk about."
Mr. Valestra grinned. "Ok, kiddo, no need to take that tone," he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a card. "Just gimme a call if you ever want a job where you can earn a lotta dough, and fast. Your Pop was a good shot, and I know he taught you well. For his sake, and for your mother's, you're welcome in my gang anytime."
He stamped out the cigarette butt, and then tipped his hat, smiling. "See you around, kid."
"Bye, Jack's friend!" said Harley, waving after him cheerfully.
"He's not my friend," growled Jack, stuffing the card into his pocket. "He used to be my Dad's boss, and he's a nasty piece of work. Although my Mom didn't used to think so, judging by that time I walked in on them together…"
"What were they doing?" asked Harley.
He looked at her. "Uh…they were…uh…hugging. Y'know, people who like each other a lot give each other…hugs," he finished.
"Yep. I know that," said Harley, nodding. She held out her arms to Jack and he smiled, picking her up.
"Did you want a hug, or are you being lazy and asking me to carry you?" he asked.
"Both," she retorted, smiling at him. "You can put me down when we get to the park."
"That's four blocks away!" he said.
"So? I'm not that heavy," she snapped.
"You ever had to carry yourself?" he demanded.
"That's a stupid question," she said. "Anyway, I don't wanna step in any puddles."
"Why not?" he asked. "What kinda lame kid are you? Kids love jumping in puddles!"
"Mommy says it's not allowed," retorted Harley.
Jack grinned. "That's why it's so fun," he said.
They arrived at the park, which was mostly empty because of the weather. Harley raced over to the swings and frowned. "We can't swing on those!" she said, pointing.
Jack saw that the dirt underneath the swings had filled with rain water, leaving giant pools of mud underneath them instead. He grinned.
"Perfect for a…mud fight!" he shouted, grabbing a handful of mud and flinging it at Harley. It hit her and she shrieked, stunned for a moment. Then she grabbed some mud of her own and threw it at Jack. Soon they were laughing and chasing each other around, flinging handfuls of mud at each other until they were both covered in it.
"Mommy is not gonna like this," said Harley, looking at her mud-stained clothes as they headed home about twenty minutes later.
"The rain will wash most of it off," said Jack, wiping his face. "Or you could always jump in some puddles and try to splash yourself with water. Like this," he said, leaping off the curb into the huge puddle of water that had formed in the grate.
Harley shrieked in delight as water splashed onto her. She looked for another puddle by the sidewalk and leaped into it, following the puddles down the pavement. And then she saw a giant one in the middle of the road and unthinkingly raced out toward it.
Jack saw her running into the street, and then he saw the car heading straight for her. "Harley, no!" he shouted, his heart leaping into his throat. He raced into the road, leaping in front of her and shielding her with his body just as the car slammed on its brakes, stopping an inch from hitting them both.
A man got out of the driver's seat. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!" he demanded.
"What do you think you're doing?!" demanded Jack in return. "Didn't you see the kid?!"
"I did, just in time!" retorted the man. "What was she doing playing in the middle of the street! I assume you have the responsibility of looking after her – why would you allow her to do such a dangerous thing?!"
"Alfred?" said a voice, as a man climbed out of the back of the car. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine, Mr. Wayne, I'm just taking care of it," retorted the driver, turning.
"Bruce, stay in the car," said the other man, Mr. Wayne, gesturing to a child who had been about to climb out. "What happened?" he asked, approaching them.
"These children were playing in the street, and were very lucky I braked in time," retorted Alfred, gesturing at Jack and Harley.
Jack clutched Harley tightly to him, and she clung to him, looking up at the man with fear in her eyes. Mr. Wayne studied Jack carefully.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"No, sir, I don't think so," growled Jack.
"Yes, I do," said Mr. Wayne, nodding. "You were at the trial of Joseph Napier when he was sent down for first degree murder. My friend Henry Dent prosecuted him. You're his son, aren't you?"
"I was," retorted Jack, coldly. "He's dead."
"I see," said Mr. Wayne, looking at Harley now. "And is this your sister? You don't do a very good job looking after her, do you? I'm not sure why anyone would let you be responsible for taking care of a child…"
"It's none of your business who she is," growled Jack, shoving Harley behind him protectively. "You're just lucky your goddamn driver didn't hit her, or I'd do worse to you than my father did to anyone, you rich twit!"
Mr. Wayne smiled. "Like father, like son, I see," he said. "Alfred, you must be more careful driving in these kinds of neighborhoods – some street children can be very careless. You'd think they'd be street smart after living on them for so long."
He turned to climb back in the backseat. "Do better at looking after her in future, Mr. Napier," he said. "Or she'll end up like your father. As will you, if you don't watch your mouth around your betters."
He slammed the car door and Alfred drove off without another word. As the car passed them, Jack saw a boy about Harley's age staring at them.
"Bruce, it's rude to stare at the less fortunate," said Mr. Wayne, rolling up his window as they passed.
"They're so dirty, Father!" said the boy, but then they drove past and were gone.
Jack tried to control his temper, kneeling down and seeing to Harley. "You ok?" he asked, gently.
She nodded, shaking. "Little scared, but…thanks for saving me, Jack," she said, hugging him tightly.
"Hey, I'll always be looking out for you, kid," he said, hugging her back. "Always. That's a promise."