When Harley boarded the downtown bus the next morning, she first thought she must have made a mistake with her makeup. People were looking at her. The bus was crowded so she didn't have room to dig out her compact and examine herself.

Her stop was around the block from the Wayne building. When she arrived, there was a press crowd gathered around the big front steps. As she drew nearer she could see tape recorders, notebooks and camera. Of course, Bruce Wayne was always a media darling.

But just as she came within a few yards, wondering what they could be waiting for, somebody in the knot of reporters cried, "There she is!"

Before she knew what was happening, she'd been surrounded by reporters. She stood stunned as a couple of camera flashes went off in her face.

"Harley Quinn, how did you come to work for the Wayne Foundation?"

"Harley, is this an attempt to make amends for your past crimes?"
"Miss Quinn, is it true you're involved with organizing the Christmas Benefit?"
"Miss Quinn, is it true that you're using your old underworld connections to recruit mob-employed musicians?"

"How do you feel about being responsible for a charitable event you've helped rob in the past?"

"Are you still in contact with any of your old criminal friends? What about Poison Ivy? Boxy Bennett? Harley, what about the J-"
"Stop!"

Harley's scream made the knot of reporters withdraw. Slightly.

"I…" she stammered. Her heart was pounding.

"Harley Quinn," started a reporter up again, but she interrupted.

"The name's Harleen Quinzell, mister!"

"How do you feel about your criminal past now that you're officially rehabilitated?"

Harley was suddenly angry. When she'd panicked at the clothing store during her first attempt at life out of Arkham, it had turned out simply to be a misunderstanding. This was no misunderstanding. These questions were beginning to feel like accusations.

"Look, I don't want to talk about it," she said loudly, "I already got a full time job, and it ain't Press Secretary."
This got a few isolated laughs but the questions persisted, "Isn't going to be a temptation for you to be involved in such a lucrative event, Harleen?"

"The only temptation I'm having right now is to feed you that tape recorder," Harley snapped. Her guts were turning to water though.

"Harleen," repeated one questioner amidst the laughter, "Have you completely cut ties with your past associates?"

"No…I mean, yes, I…" Harley's heart suddenly twinged. Old memories and feelings, good and bad, were bubbling up. The space in the middle of the horde of reporters was starting to feel very airless.

"Isn't it true that you'll be working alongside a former accomplice?"

"What?"

"Isn't Catwoman also involved in the Benefit?"

"That's Ms. Selina Kyle to you!" The voice cracked out like a whip from the top of the Wayne building steps.

Dressed to the nines as always, golden hair flying, Selina came down the steps like a storm cloud.

"Ms. Quinzell is working with the Wayne Foundation as part of her journey to living a full life. Mr. Wayne has been beyond generous by offering second chances to people in trouble, and that trust is not taken lightly. You can all quote me on that. Good day."

She took Harley's arm and guided her firmly up into the building.

Once they passed into the lobby, Selina broke into a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Harley demanded, still shaken.

"The look on that reporter's face when you threatened to make him eat his recorder!"

Harley relaxed enough to smile at least, "Yeah, that was kinda funny, huh?"

"We all heard about your conversation with Summer Gleeson. We're going to have to figure out what to do."

"Did I do something wrong?"

Selina sighed, "Well, not exactly, but you have to be careful talking to the press. Those were just tabloid jackals, but any reporter can twist words."

Harley felt very small as they made their way to Wayne's office.

Wayne and the usual crowd was waiting.

"Harleen," Wayne said, "I'm sorry, we didn't notice the press crowd until it was too late. Frankly, I assumed they were after Selina or me."
"She held her own pretty well," Selina said.

Lucius Fox looked grave, "I can't imagine it was pleasant hearing yourself deconstructed on the radio, but it did bring up a situation we'd have had to deal with sooner or later. Not everyone may understand that you're involved with the Foundation. There will be people who…question your motives. We should have a press conference to address the issue."

"We need to put people's minds at ease, and figure out how we're going to answer their questions," Wayne added.

"Wouldn't it be better to just stonewall?" Selina looked sour, "I don't like the idea of having to pander to those dogs outside."

"We'll give the legitimate news agencies pride of place," Fox said firmly. "Ms. Quinzell, you can assure everyone you've made a clean break from your past. You can tell them that you're making a fresh start, and…"

"Wait," Harley said, raising a hand. "I know what I need to say, Mr. Fox, thank you. But please give me a day. I've got a lot of work to do, and I want to work out how to say it in my own words."

"Just run them by us before we call the conference," Wayne said affably. "What do you suggest we do today, work-wise?"

"I've got a new act, I think," said Harley, "a Renaissance-fair kind of act, called the Wonderlanders."

"Wonderlanders," said Riley, "Didn't they used to work for Jervis Tetch?"

"Just like Jerry Black used to work for Boxy Bennett, yeah," Harley said. "But they've got a sound nobody else in this town has."

"I've heard them," said Wayne thoughtfully, "back before their connection was known. It's a good idea; they've got a sound that we'd need both a choir and a classical ensemble to really capture, and all that for the price of single group."

"It does cut down our overhead, and more power to the foundation," said Fox, "but another mob act…"

"Give them a chance, please, Mr. Fox," Harley pleaded. She hated to admit it to herself, but part of her just didn't want the traumatic night before to go to waste.

"If you can reach out to them and let us put them through vetting," said Fox, "then we'll see."

Harley smiled, and exchanged satisfied looks with Selina. She'd danced on the edge again, and come back smelling of roses. Of course, given the associations roses had for her, that didn't mean unqualified success, did it?