II

"Selina Kyle…" he looked at the prisoner from over the tops of his glasses, her face was a mess in the cruel florescent lightning. She sat, half leaning into the table between them, almost like she was using it to hold herself up. She was still wearing the dark, slippery zip-up outfit that had made so many of the officers stare at her when they first hauled her into the precinct. "I never would've guessed, you know? No one would…" he offered, trying to be kind to the woman.

It was hard. She'd been responsible for a couple of broken ribs and sick leave taken by some of his best men. She had caused them a lot of trouble, at a time when Commissioner Gordon would have liked to have been able to focus on other, deadlier problems. The Joker was still on the loose after all.

Selina looked like she had really been worked over hard by Batman. It made Gordon feel a little funny when he looked at her face, pale and sad, but startlingly beautiful, with a few purple marks and yellow shadows blossoming just beneath her skin. He trusted Batman. But sometimes he worried that the man took it too far. Catwoman, although a criminal, just looked like a sad beat-up young woman to the compassionate commissioner.

She wasn't talking.

"You're a bright, successful woman… you've got a healthy paycheck coming in—a nice apartment. Friends—all of whom are absolutely shocked to hear about your nightlife… why work as a jewel thief? You don't need the money."

Her cowl was sitting on the table between them, under the hovering florescent glow. Her short black hair was mussed from wearing the mask, her eyes were wide and black-rimmed, all the make-up smudged onto her cheeks from sweat. She still didn't want to talk.

"Look, I understand if you don't want to chat with me… here," he leaned forward and started to un-cuff her wrists, "I'll go get…" he didn't want to say it out loud but he was thinking he should find a woman. Ramirez or Montoya, maybe. Gordon wasn't really much of a shrink but he had picked up on a few things over the years of working with troubled criminals. Selina showed some signs, subtle things. It made Gordon think she had probably been abused. A dad or someone else in her life who should have been protecting her rather than added to the sickness. Maybe she'd talk to another woman.

The Cat wasn't insane like the others, she was hurting. The thieving was probably a thrill-seeking thing for her, an escape. Nothing out of the ordinary or even necessarily dangerous… but she needed their help, and she needed to be kept away from temptation. He wished he could keep her somewhere safe. Arkham wasn't the right place—but he wasn't convinced she belonged in jail either. It was too bad she didn't have some family who could watch her; keep her out of trouble.

"Don't."

Gordon stopped, his hand was just at the knob. He hesitated, but for once it wasn't for dramatic effect. He really didn't know how to respond. He hadn't been expecting her to stop him from leaving.

"…I heard something," her eyes darted around the room, towards the two-way mirror and the blank pale walls, "I heard that the first time you ever got The Joker in here, you called Batman to interrogate him."

Interrogate. "You could call it that."

"I want to talk to him," those green eyes were fierce. She was looking at Gordon in a way that suggested that she was not going to relent until she got her way.

"That was a very different situation… Harvey…" Gordon stumbled over his words a bit. If he had been thinking like some of his colleagues then he might have denied that he ever allowed the vigilante known as Batman into the precinct, but Gordon was unique. She had heard the truth from someone. He just hoped she hadn't heard it from the Joker's own mutilated lips… he wasn't convinced that the two of them had been working together the night before. It had sure looked like it, but it was always so hard to tell with these masked creatures… In any case, even if he lied, he could tell by the glare of those green eyes that she would know it. Besides that, maybe Ms. Kyle would cooperate if she felt like he was being straight with her.

"I don't mean…" she looked at her mask on the table, "W-what I mean is, you know how to contact him, don't you? I want to talk to him." She added the last bit sharply. He was afraid that her tone suggested she was going to stop talking again.

"The last thing she said to me was that she wanted to talk to you," Gordon tied his trench-coat shut, breathing out a cloud of mist. He was standing on the roof of the precinct. Interaction with Batman was still forbidden officially. He still had to make a show for the city; a lie that he was hunting this man… this good watchman who devoted his existence to a futile struggle for order in a dying city.

"I can't do that," the growl from under the cowl used to frighten Gordon, long ago, but he had long since become accustomed to The Batman's necessary theatrics. He was standing a ways back, mostly hidden in the darkness, where he seemed to slide over the edges and around the corners of the black city; a wraith in the moonless night.

"I know, it's probably not worth it… I just wanted to tell you what she said. There's no reason for you to take her up on her offer, unless you do think that she was working with Joker last night?" he approached the question cautiously. It seemed like Batman always knew so much more than Gordon did.

"I don't know what The Joker was doing there," Batman admitted, "I knew the Harlequin diamond would be a target item for The Cat."

"What about the name, Harlequin? Could that be what attracted The Joker?"

"Anything is possible. In all my experience with The Joker, he seems mainly drawn to violence and chaos above all else. Treasure doesn't attract him like other criminals—but I've learned never to pretend that I understand his motives or his actions. Maybe he wasn't there to steal it at all. He might have been lacing the place with explosives when The Cat showed up. Maybe he tried to steal the Harlequin diamond because it's not his style. Maybe he did like the name."

The Joker wasn't aware of exactly how little killing his girlfriend really did. Harley didn't have a problem with pulling the proverbial trigger when the thing was in her best interest, but she hadn't quite yet reached the rung on the ladder where he was. She didn't yet kill people just for the sake of ruining another cell in the honeycomb called Gotham. She didn't need to kill the sitter, and since she was operating alone for this part of the job, she could risk a little mercy.

"Hiya toots," she greeted the sleepy looking brunette in the doorway, before clamping the chloroform-dotted scarf over the girl's mouth. She dropped into Harley's arms in a split second and it was done. The girl wouldn't bother them tonight. She might receive a little extra attention at school as the girl that The Joker left alive; pretty impressive considering his record.

Tonight wasn't supposed to be a massacre, Harley reminded herself as she hauled the unconscious girl into the Commissioner's apartment. She could hear the kids from somewhere down the hall. The TV was on and little Barbara and Jim were being vocal, singing along with the music coming from the telly. Mrs. Commissioner was out of town; her sister was having a baby or something equally fuzzy and family related. Harley bound the girl's hands, ankles and mouth with electric tape and stuffed her in the closet next to the vacuum cleaner. She slammed the door, and checked the clock.

She was supposed to hold her own for this first part. The big boys came into play later. Harley was just supposed to strike a little extra terror into Jim Senior before it all went down. She was the prelude to The Joker's Opera.

"Hey kids!" she bounced into the bedroom.

Jim and Barbara both started comically. They were sitting on the edge of their parent's bed in front of the television. Yo Gabba Gabba!

Little Barbara looked like a miniature version of the lovely woman whose picture was on the wall. Her round cherub face was framed with messy strawberry-blonde tresses, and her eyes were shaped just like her self-righteous father's. She was clutching one of those plush rabbits that boys won for girls at the fair.

"Where's Amy?" Little Jim looked suspiciously at the new arrival, his white-blonde hair was shimmering, angelic and neat next to his sister's wilder mane.

"She had a bit of an emergency and had to go," Harley lied with a pout for emphasis, "I'm her friend Harley. She asked me to stay with you, until your daddy gets home... Do you kids want to play a game?"

Fun Fact: For most of April, I was convinced it was October from eight to nine in the morning, every day.

Song of the Chapter: Today's song is, Rasputina's Awesome cover of "Brand New Key". This song always makes me think of Harley.