XIII

"Relax, kids. I'm just here to pick up my stuff," Harley waved her hand dismissively at a few of her co-workers. Who were standing in the hallway outside of her office.

The other Doctors didn't bother to look away politely of even help their outraged voices in whispers. Harley contemplated sticking her tongue out at them, but eventually decided on a grin and a wink.

The Doctors looked—if anything, more scandelised than they would have if she did stick her tongue out. She was carrying a cardboard box, her heels clicked over the threshold into her office. She sat the box down and pretended to pack her things until the doctors walked away.

As soon as they were out of sight, she dumped out the box, her office supplies tumbled onto her desk. The bottom of the box had her supplies. Explosives, smoke-bombs, a gun and everything she needed for her costume.

She had robbed a costume shop early that morning. The two-toned Harlequin-jester suit she had picked out was skin tight, with alternating black and red. She zipped the skin-tight jumpsuit up, smoothing out the diamond pattern before she slipped on her boots, covered her face with powder-white cover and black lipstick. She then finished the whole look off with a belled hat and mask and mismatched gloves to fit with the alternating black and red.

She stowed her supplies in her purse and slung it across her shoulders, and then bolted into the hallway—she had to work fast. There was no room for early discovery. The hallway was still deserted. She bounded to the elevator—which was also graciously unoccupied and rode it down to The Joker's wing.

As she rushed past the other cells, she saw eyes peering at her curiously. The guards only stood watch over The Joker during their sessions. At the moment there was no one around but criminals.

He was lying on the ground with one arm over his face. Asleep or otherwise—she couldn't tell. Harley began her work without getting his attention. She set p the home-made explosives around the window—since it didn't seem as sturdy as the door. She stuck the bomb onto the plastic and spread the clay thickly with her fingers before she ran off to the side for cover and pressed the detonator.

The blast shook the ancient stones of the asylum. Harley knew she'd have to fight her way out now—there was no way they wouldn't realise what was going on.

As the smoke cleared, Harley bounded across the debris to find The Joker just rising out of the cell—looking both curious and amused.

"Hi puddin'!"

The Joker scanned Harley, a wide smile taking over his mouth, "Well! Looook at you."

"Do you like it?" she vamped for him and then giggled and spun across the destroy threshold and into his arms, "I thought I'd try a new look."

"You look like my kind of dame, kid. I'm all… tingly."

"We gotta go, puddin'. This plan involves escape, not just a make-over," she wasn't even finished talking when he grabbed her arm and began to run.

She matched his stride in an instant, in spite of their considerable difference in height.

Their bid for freedom was not without its obstacles—but Harley soon found her body falling into a familiar rhythm. The years of hard gymnastic discipline came in very handy when it came to moving quickly and dodging bullets and taking down unfortunate opponents. Also—it helped to have someone clever and ruthless like The Joker there to aid her. He could make weapons out of cleaning supplies—and he did, after scaring the janitor into his own closet.

There was always the option of taking a hostage—but that proved unnecessary. They were out of the Asylum in three minutes flat.

Harley drove the get away vehicle (her Nissan) and The Joker took shot gun, she loved to hear him laugh. He'd been giggling during their whole escape—but now that they were home-free, he was positively hysterical. His laughter bombarded all of Gotham as she zipped unnoticed amongst the other cars. The Joker was back. He wouldn't be caught again for almost two years.

Almost Two Years Later

It was a sloppy job. Harley had to be sloppy—to a certain degree. She needed to attract the right attention.

The guards fell asleep right on cue. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor of the museum as her red boot crossed her black one. The Harlequin diamond was iridescent and tempting in the ruby glow of the lasers.

There was something romantic about a laser-lit museum at night. Harley and The Joker had taken a late night date here on one of two occasions. But this wasn't fun. The was serious.

When the Batman appeared, Harley first thought was that he looked very annoyed to have to be back here again.

"I didn't hurt nobody—I don't even want the diamond, hear me out!" Harley motioned to the diamond, still safe in its case, "See—I just tripped the alarm so you'd come. The guards are fine. Sleeping. I just want to talk, Bats!"

What was it with everyone wanting to talk? "Why don't you tell me about it while we wait for the police."

"No way Bats, I'm not turning myself in. I'm trying to protect myself."

"Get to the point, Dr. Quinn."

"I think Mistah J's finally lost it for real."

"Finally," said Batman tonelessly.

He used me to get away from Gordon," she reached up and pulled her collar down, showing the thin pink slash on the skin of her neck that The Joker had left behind, "He's always been rough—but that made me realise that he's sell me down the river in a second to save his own skin… I don't deserve that kinda treatment, do I?"

"No."

"He needs help. I'm afraid he's really gonna do something bad soon…"

"What are you offering?"

"I'll take you to him. You only. I don't want the police to haul him away like a common thug… I'll help you take him in quietly. No humiliation, and no body count." As she spoke, Harley removed her mask and hat, shaking her blonde curls around her face. Her blue eyes were filled with tears, though she kept her voice steady. She looked devastatingly tragic. She really was a lovely young woman. "I… I finally realise… this isn't funny anymore."

Fun Fact: I'm a republican who thinks Russell Brand is hilarious. Misogynistic and crude, sure. But he's funny. Yes. We do exist. Much like unicorns.

Song of the Chapter: Within Temptation, "Angels". It's kind hard to understand the lyrics. My friend says it's because English isn't her first language, but if you look them up, you'll see that it's a little spooky how closely some things line up…