You asked for it so finally, finally I have delivered. I never intended this to be more than a one-shot, but what can I say? I got inspired. I do hope you like it. Who knows, I might write another chapter or two if I get a good response.

As always, PLEASE REVIEW!

Much love, Cat

xxxxx

He choked down the angry words his frustrated mind supplied as he furiously crumpled up another plan and tossed it over his shoulder. Agitated, he started to pace. Maybe if I… "Harley! HARLEY!"

He crossed to the railing overlooking the lower level. There she was, playing with her pets. Mangy, pathetic creatures. A couple of belly rubs and they were putty in her hands. Some ferocious wild animals they proved to be. It wasn't even as if they were dogs. They were hyenas for crying out loud… "HARLEY!"

She jumped, then turned, her mouth widening into a smile and her eyes lighting up as she looked up at him. "Yes, Mr. J?"

Shaking off the warm feeling that tried to creep into his chest when he stared at that grin too long, he resumed barking at her. "I need you to go to the warehouse and do some inventory. How am I supposed to design a decent plan when I don't know what I have to work with?"

xxxxx

It felt right. It felt right to have her curled up against his side, her breathing and her body soft and warm as the anxiety of the still, tranquil night descended once more. He hated the calm, the silence. He cursed the demons that emerged from the shadows to taunt him, gnawing at the edges of his psyche. He drove them back with forced laughter and merriment; in the midst of the frenzied chaos they had no power. In the middle of the might, when he was defenseless, when he was with her, that was when they came out to play. It was a game he had never learned the rules to. It was a game with stakes that were too high…a game he could not win.

She tried to snuggle up closer, her arm stretching over his chest, embracing him. He gently lifted it and placed it, elbow bent, beside her so that her hand rested beside her cheek. He had never meant for her, or anyone else for that matter, to get this close to him, literally or figuratively. But she had. Somehow, while he'd been otherwise occupied, she had permeated every aspect of his life and snuck her way into that space in his chest where science, nature, logic insisted that a heart resided.

He'd underestimated her. The moment she'd walked into Arkham he'd read her as an easy mark. Smart enough to be useful to him but weak enough to manipulate. While he could still manipulate her, he had found that even under his influence she had her own brand of strength that couldn't be stamped out of her. It was in the neverending supply of cheer, in her unique brand of honor, in her relentless defiance. Or was it that he no longer wanted to manipulate her?

He shook off the uncomfortable thought and ignoring his reservations, gently draped his arm over her waist and pulled her close, tucking her into his body.