CHAPTER NINE

"For one second he would hold my strings, but his words would shape forever; I was already reaching out and he knew it even as everyone else was fooled, even me."

"Here come old flattop he come grooving up slowly…He got joo-joo eyeball....he one holy roller…He got hair down to his knee…Got to be a joker he just do what he please…"

A melodic feminine voice alerted him as he heard the apartment door open. He raised his head from inspecting the contents of the coffee table. In the light he had turned on when he had come in through the balcony his brown eyes met her shocked, sapphire ones. She was silent, and her face was flushed from drinking.

"Batman?" She finally muttered softly.

"Dr. Quinzel," he nodded.

He was surprised she wasn't demanding angrily why he was in her house. Instead, she just tilted her head and blinked for a moment before walking towards him. "What are you doing here, at," she turned and peered over her shoulder to the neon numbers on her stove-top clock, "two o'clock in the morning?" Her voice held no infliction of accusation.

"I saw your message to the Riddler. I believe you should inform me before you pull something like that again. I don't think it was wise."

She sighed, "You came here to tell me that," he heard the bitterness in her voice, "well, excuse me if my confrontation skills aren't to your liking. We can't all be perfect like you. I'm not going to be stepped on." She dropped her bag carelessly to her floor and frowned at him.

"You're asking for him to retaliate again. It will be worse this time."

Harleen smiled in amusement, "I'm aware of that, I didn't go in and just sprout haughty words. I know the danger I'm asking for and I'll be responsible for his next trick. I want to lure him out."

He stood straighter, "This isn't your fight." Her body stiffened at the reproach. "I beg to differ," she scoffed. "He made it my fight when he started calling me out and then specifically sought out one of one of my former patients. Listen, I know you may not agree with it, but I'm not going to sit around and just let him mess with my life. I fight fire with fire."

"And when he comes after you? Then what? Those who play with fire more often than not get burned." Harleen shook her head, "I've already been burned. He took the criminal I'm working with and shamelessly copied his signature in order to give me a message. He enjoyed it and he attempted to kill her! And honestly, you, what exactly are you doing?"

"Excuse me?"

"Like you don't know! I'm aware you run around in armor, but in the end you're no different from me. You want to stop him and you're taking this into your own hands! Why can't you just sit back and let the police do their jobs?" She was now very close to him, having paced up to him as she spoke. She stood mere feet away, glaring at him.

"Because they need help. I want to help this city."

"And I don't? I want this guy off the streets as much as the police and you. Then I can go to bed at night and not worry about whether or not there's going to be some threat against my or anyone else's life, and the police need help? They wouldn't, you know, if they'd stay clean."

Batman just watched her. "They're doing the best they can."

"No, they're not! They're not! Don't you see it? Commissioner Gordon and Lieutenant Hawkins maybe, but the rest of them are no better. Even with Harvey Dent and all the good he did, they still slipped through. A good fraction of the police in Gotham are no better than its criminals. They haven't been on their game in more than twelve years."

"Something happened to you, didn't it?"

She snorted, "Of course, one would assume something happened to me," she muttered and crossed her arms tightly. Her eyes were trained on the floor. "I was sixteen, sitting in homeroom at the illustrious Gotham High. The PTA system came on and our principal gave a toneless report of a tragedy. And you know, growing up in the brighter side of the Narrows, I had seen little violence there, but I wasn't immune, you know? I'd seen plenty at the high school and as I got on the bus to head home, so I was just chocking it up to some robbery gone astray when the principal continued. It was a horror story.

"There was a boy. He was intelligent and a senior at GHS—explains why I never saw him—but anyway, I'll continue. His father was a heavy drinker and often the man would come home in a rage and of course, as the story goes for so many others, he would target the most vulnerable victims, his wife and son. Now the boy was eighteen, no doubt planning to get out of the house as soon as possible; he probably had all these great aspirations, and everything," she raised her gaze to the cloaked man and gestured now as she spoke, "but his plans were stopped dead in their tracks. The night before the father, just like most nights came home in rage, but he was angrier than usual. Maybe he found out that his son was leaving and wasn't going to say anything to him, I couldn't tell you, but the man was in fit.

"There was a big fight and somehow in the fray the man pulled out a knife. I guess the woman got on his nerves. He stabbed her in the stomach, and she was dead on arrival to the hospital. Of course the man was taken in, but the son was never found. I suppose he ran away after seeing that violence. I would have." Her last statement was whispered and her arms fell limply to her side.

"This made you lose faith in the legal system?" Batman asked softly.

"Yeah, it did. People knew, police knew and no one did a damn thing for that boy or his mother. The bastard should have been locked away from the beginning, but no…no one wanted to put away Henry Napier, renowned business man." Harleen snapped. "No one wanted to tarnish his business's name…He got what was coming to him, though. He was convicted, and I thought justice had been served until I turned nineteen."

Batman watched her facial expressions. They went from a sorrowful grimace to a dark glower, ever changing as it was apparent this story struck a note in her. He waited for her to continue; she wasn't finished and he knew it.

"A Couple years later, Mr. Napier sobered up, used the alcoholism in his appeal, and was put on parole. You can take the man away from the bottle, but you can't take the bottle out of the man. He went back to drinking, but, oh…now it was okay because there was no one for him to hurt." Harleen grinned cruelly, "However, the same wasn't true for him. He mouthed off to someone he shouldn't have. He was out of prison for maybe three months when his body was fished from the waters of the bay. He'd been bound, and killed. One gunshot wound to the head, and the murder went unsolved and then it was forgotten."

"And the boy?"

Harleen glanced up at him, "Jack Napier never returned to Gotham, if he did, no one ever knew. He disappeared like a ghost and no one saw him again. No one even remembers him, he was quiet and even though he was smart, he didn't possess a loud personality. I feel bad for him; he fell through the cracks, a victim of circumstance who the police didn't help. There's no records, save a birth certificate of that man. His house, everything burned down the night Henry Napier died, but though it was an eerie coincidence, it was faulty wiring that destroyed the house, not foul play."

"You lost your hope because of this boy's story?"

"Ok, no, but it didn't help. Things got worse, and worse…I grew up here, I've never left. I became a psychiatrist to understand criminals, understand how any man could kill his wife. I never found out, never. I lost my hope in the police department before you showed up…and I still have little faith in them now. I want to have hope in those men, but…I saw a girl almost killed and no one knows who's responsible, sure, there are suspects, but nothing concrete and I feel helpless. I'm dealing with a madman, we're dealing with ghost hunt, and there's nothing we can do. So I'm going to fight. If I'm burned, I'm burned, but I'm taking that man with me."

"Didn't you work with the police before deciding you wanted to actually invest yourself in diagnostic psychiatry?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I had faith in the police. I was trying to fix the legal system myself and I guess some difference was made, but my passion wasn't in catching unintelligent criminals. I was told once, I needed to be challenged, and my job eventually became boring so I left the station, but I told them I'd give them help again if ever they needed it. I'll admit things have gotten better in some places, but in more it's become a lot worse. I saw corruption even there."

"This is a different circumstance. You're not dealing with crooked cops here. Taking this into your own hands is dangerous, Harleen."

"Thanks for the warning, but, Batman, aren't you doing exactly what you're warning me against?" She shook her head and laughed softly. "That guy's itching for a challenge and I'm going to give it to him. You should go home. I'm here, I'm safe for now, and I'm not going anywhere. I'll find some way to contact you if he gives me another riddle. I know what I did was rash, and you may think it was thoughtless, but I don't. If you show any weakness to man like the Riddler, he'll pick up on it like a bloodhound. I've got my boxing gloves on, but I'll contact you next time, alright? I'll at least warn you that I'm going to do something, fair enough?"

What could else he do, but nod? He saw how determined she was. She was still rattled, he told himself, that's why she was skewed and bitter. That's why when she spoke she appeared as if lost in another world. She was still recovering, nothing more, nothing less.

That was Batman's first mistake. He saw the chaos licking at her seams, saw hopelessness and reckless abandon reach out spindly arms for her. He saw the first spidery cracks in the mirror of her mind and he did nothing. She wasn't breaking just yet, and it would take a huge push, but the Riddler was capable of such. Would it come down to that, though?

Batman had faith that it would be over soon. He took no notice of Harleen's corroding faith, no notice with how much she was withdrawing from him because, though she had told him much, he couldn't see it. She had said everything that should have warned him, but he didn't want to take the signs. Harleen was intelligent and strong, if not of unique methods.

Too bad her strength would be shattered in the months to come, in one instant, but that's a moment not to concern anyone yet. Batman should have known, but he was only human. Who wants to believe a person who seemed so trustworthy would soon be one of their strongest opponents? Batman didn't, and one has to applaud his stalwart belief in the situation—a pitiful well-meaning applause.

He bowed his head to Harleen who was now silent, seemingly caught in her own thoughts and he turned and strolled out the balcony doors and into the darkness of Gotham to haunt and strike fear into the petty criminals. He was gone when Harleen burst into tears, her last act of fear in face of the event she had been witness to. She didn't know that her fate had been determined, and she too only viewed her words and bitterness as the last effects of her dissolving fear of the Riddler.

She'd be fine come morning with a freshness that belied calm before a thunder storm.

Monday and Harleen found herself back at Arkham and walking down one of the main hallways. She was being transferred to a new room for her sessions with the Joker; the head of department apparently thought it antagonizing to her mental health to return to the previous room, a decision Harleen was thankful for. Someday she would have to re-enter that room, but not today and she'd never have to have another session in there.

She smiled brightly and glanced above her. She would be on a higher floor and all she had to do now was find the elevator. She turned a corner and the large, hanging sign she was looking for came into sight along with someone she hadn't expected to see just yet—her patient.

She turned her gaze to the murals framed on the walls; maybe he wouldn't notice her just yet, a girl could be distracted, and she could feign interest until she had to look. She kept walking and staring distractedly at the passing paintings. He hadn't seen her yet, he hadn't noticed her, he-

"You are back."

It was the guard's voice, the one who had been with her those days ago. Damn it, he had to draw attention to her. She mentally shook off the anger and turned to him with an appreciative smile.

"Tuh-duh?" She raised her arms in a quick pose, pausing minutely before continuing to walk forward.

Should she acknowledge the Joker? She felt his gaze on her as she had a quick mental war.

She'd feel bad if she didn't say something to him and she did want to. She turned her gaze to his face, absent of paint as always and gave him a smile as well. "I hope you didn't miss me too much, Mr. J." She commented simply, and though he said nothing, he didn't have to. His eyes seemed to widen and his mouth pulled into a wolfish grin.

She was glad the elevator came into reach then. Her heart had involuntarily jolted and excitement fluttered in her stomach. All these things, she shouldn't have experienced, and yet they happened. She pivoted and hit the up button and as she waited she turned to the guard.

"Thanks for all your help last week."

"Oh, you're welcome, ma'am. Like I said then I think, no problem. You looked so pale, I'm glad you're alright."

Harleen nodded. "You, uh, go on break after transporting him?" He also nodded. "I can take him from here. I have a key to his cuffs." She instantly disliked the condescending grin the man gave her. "I can't do that, Dr. Quinzel, as temptin' as it is." The door to the elevator finally opened. "I understand," she replied and stepped in.

The guard gave the Joker a little push, but the Joker didn't seem too eager to move.

Harleen's forehead scrunched in confusion and then she glanced at the Joker.

"Hey, what are doing?!" The guard exclaimed and used more of his body weight to propel the man. Harleen had been leaning leisurely against the back of the device, but one look at the Joker's expression and she was at attention and moving. She bolted forward, but her trust in the situation failed her again. She had just made it to the doors as the Joker turned around, surprising the guard. He pushed him out into the hallway as the doors shut and Harleen found herself alone with him.

She wasn't sure why her instinct told her to do it, but she was thankful of the warning.

She dashed the short distance to the console and wedged herself there…right between the Joker and the panel. She inclined her head and stared warily at him. He tilted his own and pressed closer to her, crushing her petite frame slightly. He licked his lips and leaned down.

Harleen could feel her face heat up as his hot breath fanned her ear, "Nothing get's by you, huh, Doc?" And then she felt it, his cuffed hands caressing the skin of her abdomen; he'd stealthily slipped them beneath the hem of her black blouse. "I really wish I wasn't cuffed, I just can't enjoy this fully. Why don't you uncuff me, hm, and let me do all the things I want to? I promise you'll enjoy it. I'm a man of my word." His lips now hovered over the skin of her neck.

Her breath had quickened, and try as she might she couldn't close her eyes or stop the fluttering in her stomach at every movement of his warm hands. She wouldn't uncuff him, she wouldn't be caught like that. The elevator was going to stop any-

The small space jarred as the elevator settled. The sound of the door opening was a sigh of relief. "Get off," she warned. He giggled and backed up; only to be suddenly grabbed by the winded guard who had ran up the stairs.

"Dr. Quinzel, are you alright?"

Harleen turned her head and nodded, her chest falling in a sigh. "Yeah, I handled the situation." She straightened up. "You should be more careful when dealing with him." With that curt reply she walked out, pushing by both men, and led the way down the hall to the new session room. She entered the code and held the door open for the guard to escort the Joker in.

"Do you want him uncuffed?" He asked uncertainly, what with the incident just moments before.

She nodded at his hesitant inquiry and then bid him adieu as he left. She couldn't blame him; the man was apparently scared to death. He had been breathing deeply as he burst into the small elevator compartment and pulled the Joker out. She had handled it, though, and she would not think about how much longer she could have controlled that situation.

She glared at the Joker as she turned her gaze to him. He was seated comfortably at the table, his smug grin made wider and more sinister by his scars, but she wasn't afraid. She was infuriated. She took a couple stiff steps towards the table and then the man burst into his loud, boisterous laughter.

"Not funny, what were you trying to pull?" She leaned over the table, her dark glower showing no amusement. He glanced up at her through his lids. "This," he answered simply and pointed at her, "you flustered and angry with me. Arkham's just so boring without ya. You asked if I missed ya, and I did, oh I did."

She shook her head and growled under her breath. She wasn't really angry at him, but at herself. If that situation had went on—no, she wouldn't have uncuffed him. What would he have done? Crushed her to death? At that prospect she allowed herself a little smile, but then she went back to a wary expression. "Were you trying to stop the elevator between floors?"

She took out her sleek, black tape recorder and placed it on the table, something she hadn't done before, but despite (or maybe because of) who her patient was she didn't feel like sitting down yet. She felt restless. The Joker glanced down at the device before staring up at her as she straightened taking a quick stare around the new stage for their play.

"Yes, I was trying to, but then a cute little temptress of a woman distracted me. Want me to tell you about—never mind I'm going to tell you about her anyway." He leaned over the table and stared straight into her eyes. "She's a small little thing, but she's got this dynamite attitude and she's so spiteful and spunky. Beautiful wheat gold hair and expressive sky blue eyes, and this full and luscious mouth I want to taste so bad. And her body," he closed his eyes and shivered, "I don't think there's anything I've ever wanted more." He licked his lips as his husky voice continued. "Stunning legs, and the body of a dancer-"

"Gymnast."

His eyes shot open at her flat reply. She had her arms crossed. "If you're going to go on about this woman, you should at least know the facts. I was a gymnast."

He smirked, "It doesn't matter, it just means that she has a toned, curvaceous figure for me to hold; a nice ass for me to watch, and she's very flexible." He popped the last word darkly and rubbed his hands together atop the table. Why wasn't she stopping him? Wasn't this making her uncomfortable? He wanted to hear her go off again, but this, this could be even better. He dared a bashful glance her way. "Want me to talk about her breasts now?" He ventured. And he saw it, her lips thinned, but she was still as a tree. Oh, so this was the game she was playing? She was trying to feign indifference.

He grinned wider. Well, it looked like he found a soft spot. "I do want to touch them... I would take that woman anywhere, anytime if she wanted. I want to know if that fiery attitude is an exterior or it affects all aspects of her life. I want an active bedmate, if you catch my drift. I want her…I want you bad."

She pulled the chair opposite of him out and sat down. Her eyes were dark in anger, and he was filled with delicious anticipation. His wait wasn't long.

"Really, well let me tell you about this spastic jerk that I know." She gushed out and her hands clenched in her lap, where the Joker couldn't see them. "He's tall and lanky. He's got brown eyes like mud and this sandy hair that looks like he never takes a shower. I know you're thinking, 'sounds like a normal guy to me,' but no, you can't miss him. He's got these scars that give him a permanent smile. He loves to hit on me and often openly laments the fact that he cannot get into my pants, and I'm his doctor for crying out loud. You know he has all these stories about how he got his scars, but I have my own theory."

The Joker raised a brow, "Do ya, sugar, tell me."

"I think you had a wife, but you see you just couldn't resist the ladies. I mean we're pretty, right? Shapely, something to charm and play with, so you decide that your wife's not giving you enough attention, and there's a woman at the supermarket that's had her eye on you. She's beautiful. Buxom, with long, curly raven hair and these cute little gray eyes and such pouty lips always painted a bright crimson. She's a doll, so you invite her over.

"Your wife's at work and you don't have to be in for another three hours so what's a little pleasure before the grind of the day, huh? You're both at each other from the moment the door into your modest little house is open. You're ready to go so you just get her on the couch and you're having a jolly good time. But you see there was an accident," Harley nodded to herself, "at the workplace and your wife's sent home early."

"Yeah? What happens?"

Harley stared at him in mock surprise, "You mean you don't know? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. She comes home, happy wanting to spent a lovely time with her husband but when she opens the front door—it was unlocked, which threw her off—she sees her husband on the couch with another woman. First she's just shocked and it's enough time for you and your little sweetie to cover up and gawk like guilty teenagers caught in the act—you might as well have been—before she's slowly walking into the house. She glares at the woman and begins to scream. You're so flabbergasted that you were caught, you're not paying attention and before you know it you're in the house alone with your angry wife."

Harleen was amazed how quickly this story was pouring from her lips, although she was angry she gave that feeling only a slight acknowledgement. She placed her hands flat on the table and her stormy eyes flickered to the tape recorder and then right back into the Joker's expectant face.

"You're not totally naked, you got your pants still on—you were in such a hurry you didn't manage to get them off. You're pulling them up as you try to explain to the woman you married why were sleeping around. Of course, what can you say? You smile pitifully and fall into the whole 'I'm sorry, baby, I'll never do it again…I was lonely, we aren't as intimate as we use to be…' You sound like a woman, but she's not buying it. She fumes and stalks into the kitchen and you're left zipping up your trousers before you attempt to follow her.

"You walk in and she's leaning over the counter, back to you. You go to whisper nothings in her ear when she hounds on you. 'Did you have fun with her, J?' You're speechless. 'Was she any good, hm? I saw your smile. Why aren't you smiling now? I always loved your smile. And I'm sure she did too; it's rather irresistible you know' You have your arms around her by this point, face in her hair, hoping to all that's good that you haven't lost her. You don't see the knife in her hand. She barks for you to get off her and you let go and it's just enough for her to turn around and slash your lip. You fall to the ground surprised and she dives in on you, laughing. 'Now let's see if another woman will kiss your lips, love' and she carves your permanent grin, forced to wear a mock grin as if enjoying yourself."

The room was filled with silence for a moment before the Joker raised his hands and began clap. "That was beautiful, utterly amazing. May I use that one? Wow, Dr. Quinn, you really know how to captivate me. I'll tell you, though, if you were my wife I wouldn't cheat on ya. You'd be too much fun. I can see it. That tale was superb and you just made it up, you've got potential, and I love it."

Harleen had to stop her pulse from pounding in her ears. She had been so incensed. How dare he talk to her like that, make such quips about her body, such lustful, appreciative quips! She hated him, hated him because her heart was pounding in excitement not anger. She was a wondrous actor. She was breathing deeply. "I'm so glad you liked it." She spat. "You finished voicing your fantasies now? I'd like to actually be a doctor today and talk about some of your experiences."

"You promise to always get this mad, puddin'?" He batted his eyelashes.

Her eyes narrowed, but she took a deep breath. "You want to tell about the Ferry incident three years ago? I've always wondered about that."

"Wow you have such tact." He laughed, but Harleen just stared at him. He sighed, "And the fun ends for now. You're really not mad at me, you're more angry at yourself. I can tell by the quick jabs, you have a different inflection in your voice."

She scoffed, "You wish."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Stop lying to yourself babe, and this would be much easier, although," he puckered his lips in thought, "I do love your playing hard to get," he licked his lips, "makes the anticipation all the sweeter. When you finally give in, I know it's going to be explosive."

Harleen rolled her eyes, "The ferry scare. You rigged two ferries with massive explosives in predicting that since you blocked off the tunnels the mayor would order evacuation through those. And you say you don't plan?"

"Predictions and plans are different. I rigged the tunnels to blow in case people thought I was kidding and the only way other way to escape is by water. And I knew the people would run; they were like scared animals."

"What about the criminals from Blackgate? Did you know they were going to be carted on a ferry too?"

"Harley, you remember when I told you I had men that serve me even though I'm here?"

"Yes."

The Joker smiled, "The same was true then, toots. I rigged both ferries to blow and then when my boys discovered that the inmates were on one, the stakes got interesting. I mean, I figured they'd get the inmates, but it's just so funny when they live up to your expectations. They should have left them in the prison."

Harley realized this was more than he had ever revealed to anyone. That stuck her strangely, but she continued along her line of questioning. "So you set up this social experiment and when neither boat set off the other charge, you were disappointed. You were proven wrong."

"I'm not sure about being proven wrong. A little surprised, though. I was hoping one of the boats would have the balls to set off the other. I told ya, they were scared, and they just couldn't lived with the guilt. Besides I lied for the very first and only time."

Wait. What? Harleen's confusion colored her face and before she could open her mouth to question him he was answering. "Those charges weren't all set with combustibles. Only one and the rest were harmless water. They would have made a loud noise and maybe damaged the engines, but no one would have been hurt. I didn't want to kill that many people, who would have been left to watch me, hm? And besides I just wanted to face off Batman again."

"You weren't going to blow the boats?" Harleen gawked.

"I'm glad to see there's so much confidence in my heartlessness." He did sound rather cheery about it. "Nope, like I said for the very first time I lied. I said I was going to blow them sky high and if anyone tried to escape then they would all die, but I wouldn't have—I would set off the charges, but like I said no major damage. I just wanted see how much they could take till they broke. What, did the police never tell anyone what they really found?"

He laughed, "I guess they didn't want anyone to feel humiliated…or maybe that they themselves didn't want to feel stupid. The human mind is so complicated at times, and I think I know it well. You know we both have that in common, Doc—reading people."

"Please," she replied impassively, "don't compare me to you. I hardly think there's much evidence to support that I'm anything of the sort."

"You call yourself an agent of chaos," he pointed out. Harleen shrugged, "So? I have it tattooed on my back too. I'm an agent of chaos, but unlike you, I get my kicks legally. I don't blow up buildings or break into fund-raising parties, I don't—what are you doing?"

The Joker had reached across the table and was fingering the tape recorder. "Do you really listen to these?" Harley cocked her eyebrow. How was this relevant? She nodded, however, "Yes, I do. I take notes from them, since I'm not allowed to have any writing utensils in here with you. You should know that."

The Joker rolled his eyes, "Duh," he laughed. "But you know, I'd never, uh, ram a pencil through your eye or anything. You're different from the rest." She ignored that and allowed him to pull the tape recorder to his side. He began to play with it, sliding it back and forth between his hands. That would sound interesting later tonight. "Am I boring you, Mr. J?"

"No, you'd know if you were," he replied, eyes focused on the recording device he continued to pass, "I'd tell you. And Mr. J? You used that earlier. I like the way it sounds coming from your lips." Once again she chose to ignore the suggestive statement. "Why did you tell me all that about the ferry," she asked instead. He raised his eyes to hers.

"Why not? There's nothing to lose to by telling you something the police already know."

She supposed, but he hadn't told any of his other doctors that. Was he telling the truth? She would call Gordon and question him later. Yet, what did he look to gain by lying to her? He wasn't getting out. Why did he have to be so confusing? Why did she want to believe him? Well, she was his doctor, and she was taught to trust the information of her patients, until proven otherwise. That was it. Well, that was simple. She was relieved by that, but her inner musing had distracted her.

She was awakened from her reverie by something hitting her chest. She jarred and glanced down and watched the tape recorder clatter to the floor under the table, but not break. Harleen looked up at the Joker.

"Oops." He grinned guiltily. He'd meant to do that she just knew it. "I'll get it." He pushed the chair from the table and slid into the floor. He'd get it? Oh hell no!

Harleen pushed her chair away from the table as well. He was planning something, and she wouldn't be caught in it. She stood up and simply took a step backward, only to freeze when his hand enclosed around her ankle. So much for that. All the air rushed from her lungs in exhilaration as she was pulled forward and down. She shut her eyes, expecting a rough impact and tried to catch herself, but a pair of arms broke her fall just as she felt the end of her descent draw near.

She opened her eyes as she was placed gently on the ground. The Joker hovered over her, staring down savagely at her. "Dr. Quinzel, we really have to stop meeting like this."

She gritted her teeth. "You bastard! Get off!" She brought up a clenched fist and swung at his arrogant face. He caught her it easily, "Too slow. Now, now, I love it when you're feisty, but, Harley, I really missed ya." He cradled her hand in his palm for a moment before bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly and placing it on his shoulder.

What the hell was he doing? She told herself it was shock that froze her body, not a sudden euphoria that made her not want to move; that was just preposterous.

He watched her expression, blank and stiff as he took her other hand and pressed it to the side of his face, against his cheek. She could feel the scars beneath her palm. She gulped and met his gaze. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harley." He promised holding her hand to his cheek and leaning down. Her fingers at his shoulder clutched into the fabric of his top, whether in anger or fear or some other emotion she wasn't sure. "I'm going to kiss you."

Had he told her that so she would turn away? She didn't and he watched her expression as he slowly leaned down and his lips brushed hers. It wasn't hungry, it was gentle as if he was hesitant himself, but once he had one taste his mouth pressed against hers more

fully. It still wasn't rough and the rational part of Harleen's mind was unplugged.

She inclined her head slightly and returned the pressure, blood heating her face and sending a tingle down her spine. The Joker smiled against her lips, "Mmmm," he hummed and let go of her hand; it fell beside her head while hers stayed there on his cheek. His eyes closed and hers followed.

His mouth then became more ravenous, but it was Harleen that surprised her own self and him. The hand on his shoulder moved into his hair and she parted her lips. The sound released from his throat then was a contented growl and his own hands wrapped around her waist and cradled her head as he held her closer, obliging her unspoken request. He delved into her mouth and plundered it sweetly.

She was dynamite to kiss. He knew the longer his lips stayed fused to hers and their tongues battled the more fond he would grow of her and her wily ways. She was his sweet temptress and he would enjoy her moment of rebellion against rules and show her his full approval. He had no doubt she would come to her ethical senses eventually, but now despite all her denial, he would know the truth.

Harleen Quinzel was attracted to him; and if the little and delicious moans she was giving off herself were any indication, he was doing his job in reciprocating that attraction.

When her kiss became weaker he pulled away and stared down in lust at her. She smirked at him, her chest rising and falling deeply as she caught her breath.

It was beautiful, but his view was short-lived. She snapped her head up and slammed it into his. He snarled in a combination of laughter and anger—pleasure and pain winding together. He felt her slide from beneath him and when his vision returned she was just finishing a stumble to the intercom. She stared fixedly at him in dark satisfaction as she pressed the intercom button.

"This is Harleen Quinzel, I need a group of men up here to place my patient in a straightjacket. He's decided he wants to be uncooperative and…violent."

"Right away!" The voice replied in shock, maybe because she was even able to make it to the intercom.

"I told you," she tilted her head, "that if you continued in your behavior that I would use more drastic methods. You crossed the line." She shook her head and he stood up, dusting himself off.

"You're playing dirty, Harley Quinn," he rolled his shoulders and touched his head. "Very dirty," he took a step forward, "but I like it." He took another step and grinned ferally. "Who kissed who back? Hm? Who let me ravage their mouth? Who seemed to enjoy it?"

And even as she lied it was confident. She snorted, "It was a distraction. Give you what you want and then change dispositions when least expected." He lowered his head and chewed on the inside of his mouth. "You drive me crazy, Harley. You make me want much more than just your lips."

She sneered, and he saw her bristle in her own denial. She could reject it, but they both knew the truth, even while her pride was still strong. Yet, the taste of her chaos he'd just had was like meat for a starved dog. He wanted more.

Two strong wills colliding, one adamant in the truth and one in denial. The truth always prevailed; it's been said, but how long until this truth was finally shared? He could wait, he would wait, and he deliberately and lustfully licked his lips to get the message across.

Then the doors opened and the men came in, carrying his straightjacket. Oh, how he had missed the attire. He laughed, and his dark eyes never left Dr. Quinzel as he was bound.

Tires screeched on the pavement and the narrow road from the Gotham Docks was interrupted by the shape of two large bank vault trucks speeding away, lights bright.

The crooks within could think they had gotten away with the heist they had just pulled. They could think that the captain and guards of the barge they had just robbed would idly sit by, forgotten only be discovered the next morning. They could be smug all they wanted, but they were wrong. Eyes had been watching them as they sped away, and their owner knew.

The two vehicles surged through traffic, cars honking, swerving at their blatant recklessness. Within the second truck a celebration was occurring, or at least attempting to occur.

"Oh yes! Without a hitch! Those guys didn't know what was coming to them, eh?" The passenger pumped his fist, platinum tuffs of hair glistening in the passing orange glow of street lamps as they stuck randomly from beneath his black ski mask; he looked in his late teens.

The driver didn't reply, only kept his eyes on the road, but that did nothing to deter the boy. He glanced in the back of the truck at the gray barrels they had gathered. His brown eyes were filled with excitement.

"A quarter ton of ammonium nitrate. What's boss plannin' to do with all this? Blow up a bank or something?"

"I don't know, but don't be celebrating yet, kid. We still got to get this load to the warehouse." The driver finally mumbled gruffly. The boy crossed his arms and nodded, "Yeah, you're right Evan."

The driver reached forward and grabbed the receiver of the CB radio from the dash. He pressed the button, "Dennis, you and Frank head down Steeling Drive now. Nathan and I will take Duncan here in five, got me?"

"Yeah, yeah, Evan," another male voice replied over the radio after a few seconds, "ten-four."

Evan hung up the radio and focused his attention on the road. Nathan, the boy, was now silent, watching the streets pass by through the tinted windows. Within the cab they could hardly hear the screech of cars and other vehicles dodging their hulk.

A good question was, where were the police? Right on time, apparently.

From behind them sirens began to blare. Evan grinned and took a cigarette out of his pocket, and lit it. "Nat, get on the radio and tell them we're gonna be a little late." The boy grinned. "Aright! High speed chase!"

Evan hit the gas, his green eyes strident against the orange of his own ski mask. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and swerved onto a side road. Losing the cops would be easy. Evan knew these streets like the back of his hands.

Nathan fingered the gun in his pocket, but knew there would be no need for it. He sat back and listened as the cars sang in their sirens and felt as the truck bolted. He bit his lip and opened his eyes to colors and speed. He laughed and Evan grinned. "Chumps, we'll lose 'em, nothin' to it."

And they did. Within minutes the truck was stationary in a dark tunnel, on the far side of the Narrows. The police zoomed by and then slowly the sirens faded. Nathan clapped his hands.

"Evan, alright! That was amazing! Let me do some celebrating for that! You lost them so easily! You are the best, brother!"

The older man grinned and leaned over rubbing Nathan's head beneath the mask. "Soon we can get out, and Mom's bill will be paid. Everything will be alright. Now let's get this stuff to the warehouse, ok?"

"Yeah, let's go." He grabbed the CB radio, "We're coming, now, guys," Nathan spoke and Evan turned the key in the ignition. It was then that the dark vehicle came into view. The cigarette fell from the elder brother's mouth. "Shit!" He exclaimed both as the butt burned through his pants and as the vehicle barreled into the tunnel.

"Is that-" Nathan gulped. "Batman?!"

The vehicle, a newer version of the Tumbler stopped in front of the truck.

"Get out of the car, and put your hands up. Let's do this easy, ok?"

Nathan and Evan glanced at one another. "Keep your gun and I'll keep mine. We can't be caught." The older ordered and the younger nodded. They opened the doors and slowly stepped down from the vehicle. They slowly began walking towards the sleek, jet black tumbler.

The top opened and Batman appeared. He stood up in the seat and Evan waved his hand almost unseen at his side. Nathan nodded once and stopped. He pulled out his gun and opened fire. Batman easily dodged.

When would they learn it would take more than some amateurs with guns? Evan too pulled out his own. He was a better shot and followed Batman with his eyes.

"Don't waste bullets, Nat!" Nathan stopped firing and Batman stopped dodging. Now it came to a stare down. "Drop the guns and this can end quietly. What were you doing?"

"You know, Bats, making some dough carting some stuff for our boss." Evan shrugged, but didn't drop his gun. "What's in the truck?"

"None ya business, ya freak," Nathan sneered. "Just hop back in your fancy car and we can pretend this never happened. We need this job so go away, or the Riddler won't like it none!"

Batman glanced at the younger boy, "The Riddler?"

"Yeah, you don't want get him mad, or haven't ya heard."

"What's in the truck?" He asked again and Evan raised his gun as he focused on his brother. The shot echoed in the tunnel and Batman groaned, but wasn't too rattled; it was a wound to the shoulder. "How 'bout we take ya back with us and you'll see?"

Neither thug had blinked before Batman had Evan on the ground, kicking his gun away.

"What's the Riddler planning?!"

"Hey get away from him!"

"No, Nat! You get in the truck and go! I ain't gonna talk. Make me, manbat! Go, Nat!"

Nathan glanced at his brother and then Batman with his gun still raised, "Sorry, Evan, but family first! Get away from him."

Batman slowly began to turn around. He raised his hand nearest the younger thug and made as if to raise his other hand. In an instant there was a sound and Nathan fell to the ground, nursing his cheek, his gun dropping to the ground. Batman had released his bat-a-rangs. He grabbed Evan and dragged him over to Nathan, kicking the younger's gun away as well.

"You want to tell me what's in the truck now?" He asked, wincing as he handcuffed them both, interlocking the cuffs to each other.

"We ain't telling you shit, go look for yourself." Nat spat, but Evan nudged him, "It's a quarter ton of ammonium nitrate." Batman's eyes widened and he walked away from the two and entered the cab. His eyes focused into the back at the bins.

Slowly he maneuvered into the back and pulled out a flashlight from his belt. Reading the labels, he found the thugs had been right. What would the Riddler need with ammonium nitrate and where was the other truck? Had they already made it to the place and dumped the goods? He cursed under his breath, but wasn't allowed much more time to think as sirens once again sounded distantly. The police were coming back.

Batman quickly left the bank truck and stared at the thugs. "You shouldn't be messing with a man like the Riddler. Don't go back if you're let off by the police; that man's demented and you're lucky to be caught. Find legal jobs; I better not see you pulling heists again!" He began to walk away, throwing a flare down as he went.

He climbed back into the Tumbler and sped off, dialing on his cell phone.

"Bruce?" He smiled beneath his mask at the sound of his wife's beautiful voice. "Can you tell Alfred to page Commissioner Gordon? The Riddler's hording ammonium nitrate."

"Yes, I can tell him. Gosh, Bruce, I wish I was out there with you."

"I wouldn't want you to be, I'm glad you're still recovering from the baby. How is Thomas, Kitty-cat?"

"He's fine, hungry as ever, but I think he misses his dad." Bruce laughed at that, but then winced, and it made it into his voice. "What's wrong?"

"Selina, get out the first aid kit, some thug shot me in the arm…I think the bullet went through, but it hurts like holy hell."

"I'll be glad when Batman is no longer needed."

"I will be too."

"I'd better go tell Alfred and get the bandages. I love you, you'll be home soon?"

"Love you too, yeah, I'm coming."

And he shut the phone and looked up into the Gotham sky. Would the day when Batman wasn't needed ever come, or would he be forced to retire first? He didn't want to think about it and he rode on into the dark night.