One of the skinny men at the table leapt to his feet – hopped, in fact – and advanced. Harley scrambled to her feet as he reached his grimy hands out for her. A deep, instinctive revulsion surged in her. The man was pale and grinning. It triggered something.

She lashed out and high-kicked him in the solar plexus. He stumbled and rolled into a ball, grabbing at the tablecloth so that pastries bounced across the floor and tea cups cracked on it.

"Tweedles!" Tetch shrieked, standing.

The French doors burst open. Harley whirled round to face…

The two henchmen from outside, falling into the room, their hands and feet tied and their mouths gagged.

Then there was an almighty crash from the front door, a whoosh, and the candles all blew out, plunging the house into darkness.

"Oh no," Harley whispered, realization dawning, "oh no, oh no."

"NO!" Tetch was screaming, and Harley could here scrambling footsteps heading toward the kitchen, "No, get out! Get…"

Harley backpedalled as a heavy weight was thrown over the kitchen counter and then Tetch landed on the table, crushing crockery and food under him with a wail.

A car's headlights momentarily flashed by – high-beams on the back street. Harley caught a glimpse of the runined table, the Hatter's thralls, standing or sitting, stunned and without commands, the crumpled shape of Tetch on the table.

And beyond, a dark shape, blocking out everything beyond it. A cape, and a cowl.

Batman.

Harley wasn't even thinking now. She just ran.

She'd barely reached the main street in front of Tetch's harem before a sleek Jag screeched to a halt in front of her. The passenger door sprang open, and a familiar voice shouted, "Get in, Harley!"

She didn't need telling twice. She'd barely shut the door before the driver floored it.

Harley looked at her neighbour in the driver's seat. Selina was dressed a practical dark coat and slacks, and her expression was like ice.

"How did you find-"

"Harley, what the hell were you doing down there?"

"I.." Harley dimly recognized that she was in shock. She felt twitchy and oddly disengaged. Her inner psychologist knew that the actual emotions of fear, shame and distress would kick in later. "He had the group we need. For the concert. I wanted to convince him to…"

"You came down here on a scouting trip," Selina's jaw dropped.

"I had to!" Harley insisted, "Nothing else I could find worked for what we wanted! I…I needed to find talent I knew, not just some fancy choir with a demo tape! So of course I went, where else do I have any experience?"

Harley's outburst stopped abruptly and she buried her face in her hands.

Selina sighed and laid a hand on Harley's shoulder, "Okay, Harley, just breathe. You're shivering. I don't know why you didn't invest in a coat to go with that suit…"

Selina drew her hand back and hit a switch and turned on the heated seats. Harley still trembled with shock.

"Can you take me back to the halfway house, please?"

Selina frowned, "Alright, but I'm staying with you for now."

"No," Harley said, "please don't do that."

"Harley, I'm trying to help!"

"I don't want help," Harley flatly, "I can handle myself. I don't have to cling to anyone else anymore."

"I'm not offering to be your teddy-cat," Selina replied, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I," she hesitated, "I was afraid you might have been planning to go back…"

Harley gave Selina an aghast look. The idea was too horrible for words.

"I was just trying to do my job," Harley said.

Selina sighed, "Well, once the dust settles, I think we can sort things out so that Hatter's minstrels can get a shot at a legitimate career," said Selina, "but that was a big risk to take, Harley!"

"What else could I do? I gotta use what I have, right?"

Selina sighed, "To be honest, Harley, you're probably right, but is the job really worth dancing on a knife's edge like this?"

They subsided into silence until they reached the halfway house, and together they went in.

The diminuitive landlady came to meet them, fussed over Harley, and then said that she should check her mailbox.

Harley, nonplussed, did so, and found a letter, addressed to her by hand, the sole occupant of her mail cubby.

Up in her room, Selina made tea, saying, "It's a plain little place, but I can see that the Wayne Foundation does well by its clients."

"This isn't from you, is it," said Harley, examining the letter.

"Nope, and that's not Bruce's writing either," said Selina, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Harley was curled up in the armchair in her dressing gown.

"Here's hoping it doesn't blow up," Harley quipped, her voice quavering as she tore the envelope open. Her eyes widened as the scent of roses blossomed out of the paper.

The letter was handwritten and short.

Dear Harley,

I'm entrusting a pliable orderly to see to it that this reaches you. I don't think Dr. Leland would approve of me having contact with you now that you're re-entering 'normal' society.

I'm not much good at the touchy-feely stuff and I'll be the laughingstock of Arkham if I say any of this in person. You're never alone in this hole in the rock. I think this 'rehabilitation' is just their way of boxing you in. For whatever it's worth, though, I wish you well out there.

I don't know if I'll see you again, girl, so be brave, be happy, be successful. Don't let anyone box you in, not 'society,' not the Batman, and especially not HIM. You're better than that. You always were.

XO

Ivy

"Red," Harley whispered, and felt her throat tighten a little. She glanced at the postmark; it was dated a day before her original release from Arkham. It must have taken a few days to make its way here. But she'd seen Ivy just as she'd arrived back at the asylum. They hadn't spoken, maybe because Ivy was too shocked when she'd impulsively – Harleen's face flushed – kissed Batman, of all people. Harleen had been so preoccupied with her upcoming release that she hadn't really spent much time interacting with the other inmates.

Selina gave her a look of catlike inquisitiveness. Harley handed her the letter. Selina sniffed it, then scanned the page quickly, her eyebrows climbing.

"Wow," said Selina, "a heartfelt letter from Poison Ivy? Huh," she smiled, "she really does love you!"

Harley looked stricken. As if the night hadn't held enough horrors.

"It's a goodbye letter, Whiskers."

Selina remembered herself and looked frankly at Harley, "Yeah, Harl, it is. I think if we learned anything tonight, it's that that part of your life is over. Unless she rehabilitates too, this might be it between you and Ivy."

Harley's expression was so pitiable that Selina added, "I know you miss her. Goodness knows I like her well enough. And yeah, she's saying goodbye, but she wants the best for you. If you're going to part, there are worse ways."

Harley nodded, and Selina sat with her a while longer before she announced that she wanted to sleep. Selina bid her goodnight. Harley changed and, with a last look at the letter, fell into a fitful sleep.