Harley went downtown that afternoon. She'd taken a quick detour to the Gotham Zoo, where her beloved pet hyenas had been lodged since her return to Arkham. She'd been informed that the chances of her getting her 'babies' back were unlikely. She'd cried bitterly at Dr. Leland for that. But they seemed to be happy there, and she was at least allowed to visit them…

But she couldn't keep them at the halfway house anyway, and better to get a life on track where she could prove she could look after them properly, right?

It was in that frame of mind that she found herself outside the premises of Gerstein and Rose. It was a large, very old building with an impressive window display of suits for men and women alike.

When Harley walked in she was impressed by the array of fine suits on display. There were some incredible lady's coats and gowns too! A red silk dress cut clear up to the hip fairly made her mouth water. The sight of a shimmering green evening gown nearby immediately brought Ivy to mind, followed by the idea of Ivy in the dress, which made her blush a little.

Before she could descend much further into a shopping frenzy, an old woman appeared from behind a rack of jackets and said, "Ms. Quinzel? Mr. Pennyworth told me to expect you…"

Harley waved perkily, "That's me, honey. I got a sweet new gig from the old man, and I need the threads to match!"

"I'm Ms. Gerstein," said the woman, "I think we can accommodate you. I gather you'll be working for the Wayne Foundation Christmas Benefit. Such a fine cause deserves a fine suit."

"Great!" Harley felt her heart lighten and she said, "Gimme the best ya got, honey!"

Ms. Gerstein shepherded Harley to a mirror and, for an older woman, fairly whirled around Harley with her tape measure. The next thing Harley knew, she was looking at herself in a business jacket. It reminded her of a disguise she'd once worn to bail a man out of the slammer; it flattered her figure while still looking professional. Harley had put her foot down and gotten slacks instead of a skirt and ballet flats instead of high heels, but it wasn't the bright, energetic red of her disguise outfit. It was charcoal grey.

"Is this really the best thing?"

"It works in any setting, and it will earn respect in all of them," rather than be stern, Ms. Gerstein was smiling in an expression of professional satisfaction. "For someone just starting out, I think this is your best approach."

Harley nodded reluctantly. In a trice she was sized up for the pants, along with shirts, a tie, shoes and a belt. Then, with a wistful look at the dancing dresses and a cringe at their price tags, she went out to the mall up the street to kill some time until the adjustments were finished.

Sitting in a café with a latte and a magazine, she was surprised when another woman sat down opposite. For a second she thought it was Ivy, but though the woman was redheaded, it wasn't her.

"Uh, excuse me," said Harley, a little testily.

"Harleen Quinzel?" The woman asked, proffering her hand, "Summer Gleeson, Gotham Insider."

"Oh!" Harley shook hands, "You're the news lady! Pleased to meet you!"

"And I'm thrilled to bump into you, Harleen," said the reporter, "Could I possibly ask you a few questions?

"Gotham would be interested in knowing more about one of the few masked criminals to successfully complete a rehabilitation cycle at Arkham. What are your plans now that you're out?"

Harley smiled her most confident smile and said, "To live my life right, Ms. Gleeson! I'm done with crime, it's time to really live. Why, I just got a new business suit and everything!"

Summer's pleasant expression didn't waver, "Have you been able to find work?"

"You bet! I got an important new job helping out at the Wayne Foundation!"

This time Summer looked taken aback, "The Wayne Foundation? That seems…quite a jump!"

"Hey," Harley objected, "I'm not some down-on-her-luck street kid who fell into bad company! I'm a lady of education, of skill," she affected a high-and-mighty posture, "Now I'm on the straight and narrow, the sky's the limit!"

"Straight for the sky, huh?" Summer smiled crookedly, "and how do you feel about that, considering that you robbed Wayne Foundation benefits in your criminal career?"

Harley's mouth opened, but nothing came out. How did she feel about it? It hadn't gotten her anywhere in the long run, except thrown around, blown up and locked in Arkham over and over again. But, hadn't it been fun? Hadn't it been such a laugh?

She made an airy gesture, as if waving away smoke, or maybe swatting away a bat. "Ah, look at it this way, I'm still trying to get people's money – it's just now I'm getting it for the charity!"

Summer stared at Harley for a second, and then burst out laughing, "Oh, that is amazing!" Summer finally pulled herself together. "Well, Harley, this is going to be an adventure, for sure." She stood and offered her hand again, "Good luck, Harley."

"Thanks," she said, shaking hands again, "See ya around!"

That evening saw Harley stumbling out of the bus under the weight of two stuffed grocery bags and another bag holding the accessories to the suit, as well as the suit itself in a bag on a hanger on her arm.

She half-fell in the door of her room in the halfway house.

"Jiminy!" She gasped, putting the shopping down on the counter, "No wonder chiropractors are making a killing these days!"

She started unpacking: shampoo, soap, Kleenex, dish sponges, bread, eggs, oatmeal, butter, sugar, and lots of vegetables. She'd never quite managed to give up meat but Ivy's 'fruits of the earth' speeches and her imaginative recipes had grown on her.

She put away the perishables and then went to hang up the suit and other accoutrement.

Then she put a ready-made curry in the microwave and sat in the armchair to read the information Mr. Pennyfeather had given her.

The job amounted to helping brainstorm the themes and content of the Wayne Foundation's Christmas Benefit, and to evaluate and approach performing artists to provide the entertainment. There might be some design work involved too.

"Heh," she said softly, "sounds like fun."

Then she looked pensively up at the suit, handing there like a spectre. She remembered the high-society Benefits that she had helped ransack in the past. They'd been been, distinguished balls full of stiffs in fancy suits, drinks that tasted like lighter fluid and music that was fit to fall asleep to. Was this what she was signing up to organize?

"I guess this is real life," she said sadly, "time to start taking it all seriously…"