That night she made her way by back alleys and industrial lots to the Exhibition hideout.
Joker was there, fussing over his "Poor, sick Harley-kins."
Harley melted into his embrace, "Hey, Mister J! I missed you so much!"
Joker cooed, "You don't know how glad I am to see you, Harley! I'm going to have a very important job for you!"
Harley squealed with excitement, then looked puzzled, "I hope it ain't too complicated, Mister J – I already got a full-time job!"
The Joker cackled, "That's okay! Because that's the job I need you to do!"
Harley, genuinely confused, said, "Huh?"
Joker slid his arm around Harley and led her back to that big table he'd been overseeing a few nights ago.
"You see, Pumpkin, I intend to join the cavalcade of entertainment at your lovely party!" He gestured at the floorplans, "It already sounds like a big to-do, so to do our part, I'll be bringing all the personnel you could possibly need!"
"Lenny, from Barlowe's old crew, has seen to getting the security uniforms a cheery new lining, and I think old Jammy will come round to letting us provide the manpower for his side of things."
"You're gonna disguise the crew as caterers?" Harley's eyes widened, "No wonder you needed so many!"
"And more guys to hold the exits and drive the truckloads of loot we're sure to get. But my secret weapon, my dear, is you!"
"Me, boss?" Harley looked astonished.
"Indeed! As you'll be handling the show along with old Brucey, you'll be able to start rearranging the channels for all those credit card and electronic donations." He handed her a folder, which proved to contain Cayman Islands banking information.
Brilliant! Joker had really cinched it. The guards would be incapacitated before they even knew it, they'd already be inside and they wouldn't need anyone to wring everyone's bank information out of them!
Joker spent the evening proclaiming his brilliance, Harley hanging sappily on every word, and they fell asleep cuddled together in a pile of old muppets.
The next day, Harley bounded cheerfully into Wayne Enterprises to the very great surprise of Bruce himself.
"Harley! You're back early!"
"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better," Harley began, realizing she was speaking much faster than was reasonable. "And I want to get back to work, 'cause we've got a lot still to do, right?"
Harley wondered if she'd get the flu again in the following three weeks. A full day of phone calls, errands and overseeing the venue's preparation was exhuasting enough, not to mention having to report in to Mr. J at day's end, and then get up to do it all again. Luckily, Joker was kind enough to let Harley sleep at the Halfway House, where there was peace, quiet and the appearance of propriety.
December came in forcefully, with blowing snow and the temperature dropping precipitously. Thank heavens, Harley thought, that Wayne had made his car available to her (they went to meetings together nowadays anyhow), so she didn't have to risk exposure again.
The Gotham Convention Centre was the venue of choice, its immense main hall was being decked with trees and ribbons. Harley squealed with glee to see it, and she recounted its beauty to Joker.
"Swell, Harley," Joker said distractedly one night, late in the month. He'd been trying to chair a meeting of various gang gunmen who'd come into his service from King Barlowe and Boxy Bennett. He'd gone over where they were supposed to be and what their cues were. It had flair, timing, elegance. The kind of panache that nobody but the Clown Prince himself could bring to a crime.
Harley smiled knowingly.