Mid-fall evenings are beautiful things. The stars shine as the moon rises over the dying world. A stark, chilly, breeze flies through the air, sending chills down every spine.

This kind of weather gave Jonathan Crane a sort of new life. It was his season. He walked briskly, anticipating the discoveries he was sure to make that night.

He also had to plan on how he would hide The Joker from Harley, and vice versa.

Harley was huddled into her coat, her cheeks quite red from the cold. Even her pigtails seemed to shiver as she sidled up closer to Jonathan, trying to steal even a hint of warmth. To keep up with his long legs, she was practically jogging.

"Are you cold, Child?" Jonathan asked, cracking a smile and slowing his pace slightly. He'd been so busy thinking about his next experiment, he hadn't even noticed before.

"Whaddaya think?!" Harley hissed, half muffled through the coat. "I hate the cold.

"We have a long winter ahead of us," Jonathan said simply, taking off his threadbare scarf and wrapping it around her face. Harley looked up at him, smiling. Her eyes shone brightly, bringing a spark of joy into Jonathan's heart.

"Thanks, Jonny. I appreciate it," She said. He just continued down the road, keeping his brisk pace. Harley again began to jog, wordlessly keeping pace with him.

They only had a short distance to go before they arrived at their destination.

Harley knew that they were getting close. Jonathan's pace was quickening as he approached a small building, in nearly as bad a shape as the farmhouse a mere mile down the road.

"That's it, there. I have a few solutions stored in there, and I had someone bring a subject tonight," Jonathan explained, pointing to the structure.

It must have once been a large tool shed or a small barn, looking at the exterior. Any paint it might have had was long worn off, leaving a grey-ish wood behind.

"Why didn't you pick a place closer to the farmhouse?" Harley asked, looking around. "Or use the farmhouse itself?"

"This is the nearest structure that didn't pose the possibility of my... our living quarters being flooded with fear toxin." Jonathan explained, helping Harley over the barbed-wire fence. As soon as he himself crossed the fence, he reached out and took her hand, placing a rough wad of cloth in her palm.

"What's..." She said, slowly opening the cloth.

It was a mask, similar to his own. A gas mask modified to look like the face of a scarecrow.

"I made that this morning. I figured that it'd be best if you came with some protection against the toxin..." He explained, pulling out his own.

Harley just stared at the mask in her hands. It was crude, but so was his. The smile stitched into the cloth was different than the kind that she was used to seeing everywhere, but still a strange comfort. Smiles were always good in her book, even when to instill fear.

The inside of the shed was cleaner than Harley was expecting. A dim light was hung up over the tables, illuminating the center of the room, but leaving large chunks near the corners completely dark.

"Do you use those corners to hide in or something?" Harley asked, wondering if they had a purpose.

"At times, yes. They can be used well for moving about unnoticed." Jonathan smiled under his mask, pleased with how well the crude 'laboratory' was able to work. It had a certain sort of charm that The Scarecrow persona really called for.

"And you said that a correspondent would be bringing a subject, right?" Harley asked. Her own mask was crooked, but it simply seemed right on her.

"Yes..." Jonathan said. "However, it seems they never showed up..." He sighed, looking around the room. There was no subject anywhere.

"Huh... I wonder if they got sidetracked..."

"Harl?" A sultry female voice said from behind them, hidden in one of the shadows.

"Red!" Harley practically shouted, hurling herself at her friend. "Why are you here?"

"I came to check on what remains of my babies,"The woman said, crossing her arms and scowling. "Most of them have been killed off while I was locked away."

"I'm sorry Red...' Harley sighed, beginning to twist one of her pigtails around nervously.

"Why are you here Harl? Shouldn't you be with..." Poison Ivy began to say before her eyes narrowed and the half-dead moss growing on the walls seemed to pulse a little.

"He didn't..." She scowled, gently taking Harley's arm and leading her out the door. "Excuse us for a moment, Crane."

"What did he do to you?" Poison Ivy asked, clenching her fists in anger.

She knew her friend, better than most anyone else. She'd seen the mostly faded bruises. She'd seen the fresh, but also well bandaged cut on Harley's wrist. She had seen the look in her eyes, even through that mask.

Why did Harley even have that Mask? What else had changed?

"Jonny, or Puddin'?"

"Both, but Joker first." Ivy demanded.

She'd met Joker driving some distance up the road, and had decided that a nice regrowth of some shrubbery was in order to box him in. It was a convenient way to pay off some old grudges.

She knew it also wouldn't take much convincing to make her go back and finish him off for good. It might even be therapeutic for her to be rid of him.

"He just... well.. He just kicked me out..." Harley explained, biting her lip. She'd taken the mask off now, showing her face to Ivy.

"That's not enough explanation. Did he hurt you, at all?"

"... Yes..." Harley said simply, bowing her head. "But it's okay... Jonny's been taking care of me since you were in Arkham and all..."

"I can see that. Why did you go to him, of all people?"

"I've worked with him before, and I thought I could trust him," Harley said. "Why do you need to know."

"Because I'm not going to let him hurt you to. How do you know he's not just taking advantage of you right now Harley?" Ivy asked, grimacing at the shed behind them. "He knows all about human emotions and knows how to manipulate them. He's a trained and skilled psychologist."

"So am I!" Harley said, defending herself and her friend."And he's not doing anything to hurt me! He's been helping me! He did this for me!" Harley said, brandishing the bandage on her wrist.

"I still don't trust him," Ivy said, narrowing her eyes. "He hasn't ever really cared about anyone. He wants something from you, Harl, and I don't intend to let him use you."

"I don't think he is. He's been-" Ivy cut her off.

"Crane doesn't do charity. Ever. I don't know what gave you the idea that he'd help you out of the kindness of his heart, but that isn't true. He's after something, Harl. be careful. I don't like this, but I'm going to let you choose. If you want, you can come with me for a while, or you can stay with Crane. "

"Well, I'm going to stay with Jonny. He at least has the decency to listen to what I have to say!" Harley said, walking back with a huff.

"Harl I didn't mean t...' Ivy said, suddenly realizing what she'd accidentally done. She sighed, not wanting to make the rift worse. She was angry, and anger made her reckless. "I'll just have a little talk with Crane..." She sighed, following, Harley.

"Crane. A word." Ivy said standing in the doorway. Jonathan looked from Harley to Ivy.

He hadn't really expected her to return. In all honesty, he'd more than expected for the two of them to leave him alone again.

He walked towards Ivy, followed by Harley.

"Alone, Harley," Ivy said, crossing her arms impatiently and glaring at Crane.

"Anything you have to say to him, I should be able to hear too!" Harley said, huffing theatrically.

"Harley, please?" Jonathan asked, sighing. Harley nodded and sat down on one of the tables. "I'll be right back, Child."

Ivy led the way to a patch of nearby grass, crossing her arms and continuing to glare at him.

"Crane."

"Isley."

"I swear, if you do anything to harm Harl in any way, shape, or form, I will come by and I will find some way to kill you."

"Understood. I have no intention of harming Miss Quinzel."

"What do you want from her"

"Nothing," He said.

Ivy squinted at him, looking unconvinced.

"You have no need to use your pheromones. I promise that I am telling the truth."

"I know. That's what's bugging me." Ivy said, looking as though she were trying to burn two holes in Crane's face. "And I think I know the reason that you're helping her as well."

"The same one as you have, I'd suppose."

"W-what?" Ivy stopped glaring, instead looking shocked, almost fearful.

"Did you really think you could hide it from anyone who knows anything about how the mind works?" Jonathan teased, revelling in her sudden vulnerability. "Harleen knows too, no doubt. She really is a brilliant psychologist."

"What do you mean?' Ivy asked, still on the defence.

"You love her, don't you?"

"And you just admitted to the same."

"I know."

The two stared at each other for several moments, letting the silence sink in slowly. They'd never gotten along, but something clicked in their minds. Jonathan wasn't sure if it was hatred or understanding. Perhaps both.

"I have a question for you as well, Isely," Jonathan said after several moments.

"What is it?" Ivy said, getting tired of the game they were playing.

"Have you seen The Joker? He was supposed to bring a subject for me to work on today."

"Why in the world are you working with that... that...' Ivy asked all to a sudden, anger flaring into her voice. "I thought you wanted to help Harl!"

"I do. I set this up before she showed up, and never intended for her to see him. At all. I didn't even intend for her to help me in my experiments, but she… she needed to be here. I came here early so I could intercept him down the road when I heard his car approach, but he hasn't showed up yet."

"Let me take Harl with me," She said. "I can keep her safe, I promise."

"That is not a choice I can make. You'll have to ask her," Jonathan said. "I am not one to speak for another person. Now where is Joker? I really do need to conduct my test before the night gets too late."

Ivy cursed and crossed her arms. "He's up the road a bit, trapped in some box alder. I'll recover your 'subject' for you. Go stay with Harl."

Ivy was livid. She hated Joker, Scarecrow, the whole dang city around her.

But she couldn't hate Harley. Sure, the little harlequin wasn't listening to her at all, but she still couldn't. Harley's sudden trust of Jonathan worried Ivy. He was a man. He was a manipulative, macabre-obsessed, and intelligent man. He was dangerous. That was all there was too it.

She almost felt cheated. All those times that she'd thought of herself as the only person Harley would turn to, she'd been wrong.

She also knew it wasn't how she should feel. She'd never taken herself as a possessive person, so much as a protective one. What she was feeling was stemming from mistrust and hatred for Scarecrow and Joker, but another part of it was her love for Harley.

She also felt like it was almost her fault that Harley had been forced to turn to The scarecrow. She'd been wasting away in Arkham, instead of being present for her best friend. And now she was in the care of someone that Ivy refused to trust.

And now she wasn't ever going to be sure of when Harley would turn to her. The Scarecrow had obviously built up trust with her. Perhaps Harley wouldn't turn to Ivy right away the next time the Joker dumped her.

If there even is a next time… Ivy thought, hoping for that to be true. If Harley never did go back to Joker, it'd be a success in her eyes. Perhaps then she could cave his head in without worrying about hurting Harley in the process.

Even the thought of it was cathartic for her.

She approached where the box elder sat, a huge mass of branches and twigs descending into a thick cage. The car there was completely wrecked, never again to run. Good riddance. It was the worst kind of car; Hideous and inefficient.

And sitting calmly by the wreckage was The Joker, seemingly unfazed, and a battered man's body lying next to where he sat. He was still breathing, but several bad scratches on his arms indicated a rough crash.

"So nice to see you Ivy," Joker said, staring at her through the branches. Woodchips littered the ground at a place where he'd tried to use a small shard of metal to cut his way through the branches. "Whatever brings you back here? Oh wait! You obviously need a favor from me. You must deserve it too, especially after what you did to my car!"

"I need that man."

"I'm afraid our dear friend Scarecrow is the one who needs him," Joker said, smiling.

"I know." Ivy's voice had switched to pure venom. She narrowed her vibrant eyes, staring the clown down.

"Ooooh! Touchy subject, I see. By the way, Have you seen Harl? She's obviously not with you, so I was just wondering."

"Shut up," Ivy commanded, clenching her fists. The cage of bare branches contracted for a second, shifting closer to The Joker. He just laughed, tilting his head back.

"Found a tender spot, didn't I?" He leered, moving closer to where she was, completely unafraid of the writing branches all around him. "Well, if you'll kindly release me, I'll get on my way to deliver this body. He's not dead, but he might be soon. Jonny had better act quick."

Ivy grimaced, stepping back. "Just give him to me and get back to town," she said.

"But I was asked to deliver, don't you see?" Joker laughed. "Besides, I want to see my little Harlequin. I know that she's there. I'm not a stupid man, y'know."

"Get out of here!" Ivy yelled, the branches closing in even tighter, reaching for Joker's neck. It'd be so easy, she thought, staring at the stark white skin. But I can't. "If you go anywhere near her, I will kill you," she hissed, letting the branches writhe around him, restricting his movement completely.

"You've threatened me with that before. I know you won't actually do it. Don't want to hurt the precious little Harley, eh?"

"Just give him to me and leave, Joker. You aren't welcome here. Jonathan would agree with me."

"Would Harley?"

Ivy glared at him, refusing to answer. "Get out of here."

The branches lifted, and the clown stepped out, dragging the man behind him. Ivy grabbed the battered man, hoisting him over her shoulders with ease.

"I'll be back for Harley soon. You can't keep her forever," he said, grinning. "You can't even keep her now, can you?"

"Get out." Ivy commanded, watching as the clown walked away, not a scratch anywhere on him.

She was going to kill him someday.