The paved drive-way wound up a gradual incline towards Arkham Mansion, oak trees lined either side and the grass between them was lush and green. Ahead, to the east of the house, a luxurious flower and vegetable garden stood with two greenhouses and a short, white picket fence surrounding it. As he got closer, he could make out what looked to be a fountain, near the back of the garden. He smiled to himself, noting that there was no water flowing in it, and wondered briefly why she'd even put it there in the first place.

He took his time driving towards the house, taking in the landscape, the changes she'd made and the things she'd kept the same. He hadn't been here yet as Bruce Wayne, and had only come as Batman while the grounds were still under construction; this was the first time seeing everything completed.

Of course as Batman, he had to come here. The caves under the Asylum had to be cleared out, in case she dug too deep. With the help of Nightwing, Robin and Alfred, every piece of equipment, every scrap of evidence that someone had been down there in the past 20 years had been removed. Once he was sure the caves remained hidden, he'd set up base there again, but right now he had come for a different reason.

Whether the people of Gotham liked who was running it or not, Bruce knew Rebecca's new asylum was better then the old. She knew that control was the key, and she genuinely wanted to help these sick people. He'd taken a walk through it before, just prior to the opening, with the intent of helping to fund it, provided he liked what he saw of course. But Rebecca had refused his help, with no explanation as to why, and he'd come to find out.

Slowly he pulled the Bentley to a stop just outside of the main doors, and looked up at the towering mansion. The grounds may have changed, but the building hadn't. He couldn't help but stare in awe at how much she'd kept it like it was. In a way he understood. Wayne Manor hadn't really changed much since his parents died. It was his safe-house. His base of operations, his home. Arkham Asylum was Rebecca's home. She'd been bounced around a bit as a kid; foster homes, hideouts, but she'd spent most of her time growing up here. The only difference? Wayne Manor was a loving, supporting foundation. Bruce was welcomed there, when he was young, by his parents, as he got older, by Alfred. Arkham was a madhouse, full of terror.

He quickly shook the thoughts from his head. If he idled much longer, someone might think something was wrong. He dawned a pair of sunglasses, shut off the engine and stepped out of the car, taking another glance around as he fixed his suit. Behind him he heard the main door open, and he turned with a charming smile, expecting to see a butler or maid.

Rebecca stood at the door watching Bruce as he made his way up the front steps. As he climbed, he noticed how small she seemed with the monstrous house for her background. She was young, especially for what she'd accomplished, but she looked older. Maybe she was just tired, or maybe it was just the way she was presenting herself at the moment. He'd never really noticed it before. It seemed to him, as he watched her grow up, that once she turned 18 she'd just stopped changing, stopped aging. He was sure, as Batman, the toxins running through her body had slowed her aging process, but today, it just seemed that something had caught up with her. 'She must be tired,' He thought, 'I'm sure she's been busy.' As he reached the top of the steps, he smiled again, and held out his hand to shake hers.

"Quite a mountain of steps you've got there." He chuckled.

He was only a bit taller than her as Bruce, and he noted that she didn't move her head to look up at him, only her eyes. Unnatural eyes that would have sent a shiver down just about anyone's spine. They weren't cold or unfeeling, in fact they were quite inviting, but the colour. He was positive her eyes could catch the faintest bit of light in the dark and seem to glow. They were a toxic colour, brighter then her Fathers, a lime green that you really only saw on Halloween when people wore those coloured contacts. Even those couldn't compare to her eyes.

She shook his hand with a soft grace, but enough control to let him know that she wasn't about to get played. Even over all the years, Bruce was still amazed at how much she could look like the Joker, and he could still look past it. He had also been impressed, when she set out to work at the asylum, she hadn't tried to change her appearance in any way. He could tell she was proud of who she was, it had given her character, and a will that let her see what she'd wanted was accomplished.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Wayne?"

He smiled again at the sound of her voice. He could hear Harley's accent just below the surface. She had never tried to hide it, but it had slowly diminished after the years of schooling and work, but he knew full well that when she got angry, or upset, it came back full out.

"I was hoping we could talk about fundraising again. You didn't seem very interested the other day, but this is something I really want to have a hand in, even if I can only put a few measly dollars towards research."

"Well just what is it that you hope to get from any fundraising? I'm not gonna to put your name on my building, even if you donated yer whole fortune."

There was that accent. He quickly put his hands up in defence, truly unsure as to what he'd said wrong. All he really wanted out of the venture was for her to start using WayneTech equipment, mainly security wise. Sure, Batman could hack into any security camera, but it would be much simpler if it were his own.

"You misunderstand me, Ms. Quinn. I only want to help. I'll donate anonymously if you'd rather. Please, can't we sit and talk it out?"

There was a long, awkward pause before she finally moved back to let him in. Bruce couldn't help but swallow the lump of uneasiness that had formed in his throat as he stepped over the threshold. He hadn't seen the inside, as Bruce Wayne or Batman, since the changes, and now he was sure he hadn't missed much. Nothing had really changed. Instead of cells and bars there were rooms with doors, all except for one were closed. Rebecca walked ahead of him, towards the open door, to what he assumed was her office. He noticed now that she had no shoes on. Actually he noticed quite a few things about her that he hadn't when she'd open the door. She had a loose pair of long lounge shorts on, and a short silk purple robe covering her top half. He tried to think back now, remembering that it had been open, but he wasn't sure what was underneath. He'd been so pre-occupied looking at the grounds and the house. He thought maybe it had been a tank top she'd been wearing, and wondered now if he'd woken her. He noticed now that her hair was back in a French braid, but bits were loose and fell about her face. The braid itself ran down her back, just past her bottom and he mused to himself that she'd probably only had her hair cut about 4 times in her life.

As they entered her office, the first thing Bruce noticed were the three pill bottles lined up on her desk. They were just off to the side, and an untrained eye wouldn't have spotted them, but he did. Two of the bottles were still open; The first was a sleeping aid, and the second was used to control bi-polar disorder, and the closed bottle suppressed an overactive libido. He wondered if it was closed because she'd just taken it, or if she hadn't gotten to that one yet. In any case, he thought it better to keep a distance. She gestured for him to take a seat, and leaned slightly on the desk, folding her arms over her chest. It was a tank top she had on; lavender, with nothing underneath it. He frowned to himself a bit, and knew he'd better make the meeting quick.

"Ms. Quinn, I understand how you feel about this project. When my parents passed on, I started to do whatever I could to help out Gotham's hospitals."

"You became a doctor."

"Well… No. Once I was old enough to control my family's money, I donated. I've also worked to have my company help Gotham in anyway possible. We've restored parks and built shelters—"

"And everyone loves you."

He sighed softly, "No. What I mean is—"

"I know what you mean, Bruce. You've had everything handed to you and you're just trying to give a little back. Forgive me for being short, but this is my project. I don't want any funding from people who want to stick their nose into my program. You have no idea how many politicians and lawyers have approached me. I know what they want; they want somewhere to throw the competition."
He started to protest, but she held up her hand to stop him.

"I know; that's not what you're looking for. And I believe that, Bruce. But right now, I just need to do this myself. Maybe when everything gets more settled, I'd be happy to accept your donations. But right now, I just need to do this myself."

His eyes narrowed a bit, and he watched her a bit closer. She was looking at him, but she wasn't seeing him, her eyes were a bit glazed and he wondered if the sleeping aid had kicked in.

"Rebecca is there anyone else here with you?"

"Hm? Yes. Well… Not right now. Why?"

"You look exhausted. Let me help you to bed. We'll drop the funding issue for now."

This time her eyes narrowed, and as he stood she tried to move back but she was already leaning against the desk, so she only managed to rock a bit.

"I-I can put myself to bed, Bruce."

He smiled a bit, and held out his hand to her.

"I'm only afraid you'll fall down those stairs. Just let me walk you up and then I'll go."

There was a long pause, but she finally sighed and put her hand in his. As the left the office, he was surprised how much she leaned on him. As promised, he helped her up the steps, and started to let her go on her own, but she kept a tight hold on his hand and he ended helping her into bed. He left the room quickly, but took his time leaving the building, looking around as much as he dared.