"All right, let's get you tucked in, kiddo," said Jack, gesturing to Harley's bed. It had been six months since he had appeared at the Quinzel's home, and Harley and he had become completely inseparable. Whenever he was at home, they were together, and whenever he was at work, Harley kept glancing at the clock, asking her mother when Jack and Daddy would be home. Sometimes she and her mother would take a walk to the garage to see them, and Jack showed Harley all around the cars, explaining how they worked and what he did to fix them. She hung on his every word. And whenever he came home from work, she would rush to show him her new drawing or voice or game she had been playing. Jack was always interested, and would indulge her in whatever she wanted to do. He was also capable of keeping up with her energy level, which was no mean feat.

On his days off, they would walk to the park, or stay inside playing games or watching TV. Jack would teach her how to imitate the voices of the cartoon characters, and lately she had insisted on him tucking her into bed and reading her bedtime story, because he did the best voices.

Harley bounded up into her bed and he pulled the sheets up around her and her clown doll. "There. All snuggled up and warm?" he asked.

She nodded. "Where's my story?" she asked, noticing that he wasn't holding a book.

"I'll tell you one in a second," he said. "First I gotta give you some news."

"News?" repeated Harley. "News is boring. That's why we watch cartoons."

"Well, this news ain't boring," he said. "I've found a home."

"You already have a home," retorted Harley, frowning. "Your home is here, with me."

"I mean a home of my own," he said. "My own place."

Harley stared at him. "Why would you want your own place when you have a home here with me?" she asked. "Nobody wants to live alone, not when they have a family. And you're my family, Jack."

"Well, I can't live here on your parents' charity forever," said Jack, gently. "You wouldn't understand, kid. But a guy my age has to take on some responsibilities, and get some independence. I gotta have my own place, and make my own life."

"Why wouldn't you wanna make your life with me?" asked Harley, looking hurt.

He sighed. "C'mon, kid, this ain't a big deal," he said. "I'll still visit you lots, and I'll still be working for your Daddy, so you can come and visit us both at the garage. I just won't be living here on your sofa anymore. I'll have my own room, and my own space, and you can visit me sometimes too, how about that? My apartment's only a few blocks away…"

"But…but I don't want you to leave, Jack!" she stammered, tears in her eyes. "Who's gonna read me bedtime stories and tuck me in?"

"Well, your Mommy and Daddy, like they used to before I came along," he replied.

"But they can't do voices like you, Jack!" she cried.

"Well…how about I come over once or twice every week around your bedtime to read to you?" asked Jack.

"I don't want you to be here once or twice a week!" she sobbed. "I want you to be here all the time!"

She burst into tears. "Hey, sweetheart, c'mon," he said, hugging her gently. "This wasn't meant to hurt you. If it were up to me, I'd take you with me, but I think your parents might object to me kidnapping their daughter," he said, smiling at her and brushing the tears from her face. "But they probably couldn't blame me for doing it. Who wouldn't want a cute little Tasmanian Devil living with them?"

"I don't want you to go, Jack," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, kiddo," he murmured. "But you'll still see me all the time. It'll be like I never left. I'll come over so much you'll probably get sick of me."

"Promise?" she whispered.

"I promise," he repeated, nodding. "So c'mon, keep that cute little chin up, huh?" he said, touching her chin.

She nodded. "That's my girl," he said, kissing her forehead. "And now how about I read you that story? You pick," he said, holding out several books to her. She didn't hesitate, pointing to her favorite one.

"Joker the Clown Joins the Circus again?" he asked.

She nodded firmly. "And you have to do the voices," she said, cuddling her clown doll.

He sighed. "Man, I'm getting bored of this story," he muttered. "Ok. Once upon a time there was a clown named the Joker…"

"Jack?" she interrupted.

"Yeah?" he said, looking up at her.

"Can you please…hold me?" she asked, gazing at him.

He smiled, and then climbed into bed next to her, propping up the pillows and holding Harley as she sat up in his arms, with the book between them. Harley stared at the pictures of the clown with the green hair and the purple suit and cuddled Jack tightly, trying to enjoy the story and not think about the fact that he was leaving.

She fell asleep on the story, and Jack was left in the awkward position of trying to get up without waking her. He managed to disentangle her from his embrace and slowly lay her down on the pillows, covering her up and flicking on the nightlight. Then he turned to go.

"Jack?" whispered Harley, softly.

"Yeah, sweets?" he asked, turning at the door.

"I love you," she said.

He smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart," he said, coming over to kiss her forehead again. "Now sleep tight."

He left her, shutting the door, and returned to the living room, where Harley's parents were watching TV.

"How did she take it?" asked Mr. Quinzel, looking up at him.

"She was pretty upset," said Jack, sitting down on the sofa next to them. "But I promised her I'd visit a lot. I mean, I'm really gonna miss her too."

"You know you don't have to go, Jack," said Mrs. Quinzel, gently. "Both George and I are happy for you to stay. And Harley would be over the moon."

"Thanks, Mrs. Quinzel, but I've been a burden on you long enough," he said, smiling at her. "You've both already done so much for me, and now I have to do some stuff for myself. I want to be independent and responsible now."

"That's only natural, for a boy your age," agreed Mr. Quinzel, nodding. "But please remember we're always here to help you, Jack. And if you ever need to come back home, you're welcome here."

"Thank you," he said. Then he forced a smile. "But it's not like I'm going far away, or getting a new job or anything. Like I said to Harley, this isn't a big deal. I'll see you all the time at work and stuff - I'm just moving out."

"Yeah," said Mr. Quinzel. "But it's hard having your family move out, even if they're not going very far. And you were really starting to feel like family, Jack."

He smiled sincerely now, and they watched TV in silence. "Well, I'm going to bed," said Mrs. Quinzel at last, standing up. "Goodnight, Jack," she said, kissing his cheek. "You'll always have a home here."

"Thanks, Mrs. Quinzel," he said, hugging her. "Goodnight."

"I'll join you in a minute, Gladys," said Mr. Quinzel, as she left the room.

Jack cleared his throat. "Look, Mr. Quinzel, I know I can never repay you for your kindness to me. But I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done…you could have just called the police or shot me or chased me off, and God knows where I'd be then. But for the first time in my life, I feel…happy. And proud of myself, for doing real work, and getting a real place of my own that I'm paying for by doing that work. I can't thank you enough."

"Don't thank me, Jack," he said. "Everything you've achieved has been because of your hard work and dedication. You deserve to be proud of yourself. I didn't have much to do with it, aside from employing you. And letting you stay…well, that's only what any decent person would have done when they saw the state of you that night."

"Well…I haven't dealt with many decent people in my life," he murmured. "So it seems almost miraculous to me."

Mr. Quinzel smiled at him. "You're a good boy, Jack," he said. "I'm going to miss having you around the house. But I'm glad you still want to work for me – I don't know what I'd do at the garage without you."

He stood up, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now get some sleep. You've got a long day ahead of you, moving in to your new place after work."

"Well, it's not like I have that much stuff to move!" laughed Jack. "I only got one possession, aside from the clothes on my back!"

"Yeah," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "I understand the importance of having a weapon in Gotham, especially if you've got a home to defend now. But I hope you'll never need to use your gun again."

"So do I, Mr. Quinzel," agreed Jack, nodding. "Believe me, so do I."