Chapter 5

When the clock struck four on Friday afternoon, Harley headed home from work. The weather today was perfect for a run: sunny, but not too hot, nor to cold. So once she came to her apartment, she got changed and went out for a run around the neighbourhood. She had planned on taking a shower later anyway before Patrick would come to pick her up, so why not get a little exercise first? Frankly, she needed the fresh air after being cooped up all day in the nuthouse.

After a refreshing shower, she had just managed to step out and wrap a towel around her when her cellphone rang. She hurried out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where she had tossed her cell onto the bed. She picked it up and saw her friend Cassidy's face on the display. "Hey Cass," she answered.

"Hey Harls!" Cassidy sounded all too chipper for a normal conversation, which led Harley to believe that her friend hadn't just called to chat. "I just wanted to call and wish you good luck tonight!" Harley snorted at that and rolled her eyes, even if Cassidy couldn't see it.

"Thanks, I'm gonna need all the luck I can get."

"Just promise to call when it's over. I need to know all about it!" Harley sighed.

"I promise," she reassured. "Now I need to get ready. Bye, Cass!"

"Bye, Harls!" Harley was the first to hang up. She shook her head with a light chuckle and tossed the phone back onto the bed.

Harley picked out a simple, black cocktail dress along with a pair of black pumps. There was no need to get too fancy. She settled for some red lipstick and black mascara and let her hair hang down the way it was. Honestly, she'd rather just stay at home and watch TV, but a promise was a promise.

Not surprisingly, the doorbell rang about five minutes before seven. Better early than late anyway, she thought to herself as she went to open the door. She was met by Patrick, holding a bouquet of pink roses. He wore a dark blue shirt with black jeans and she noticed he had spent a lot of time to get his hair done neatly. As per usual, he smiled at her. "Hi Harley," he said and looked her up and down. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks," she smiled back. "You're not so shabby yourself."

"These are for you." He handed her the bouquet and she took hold of it, smelling the scent.

"They're beautiful, thank you! I'll just put them in a vase." She went into the kitchen, grabbing the first vase she could find and filled it up with water. She put the bouquet in it and placed the vase on the kitchen table.

"I'm ready," she said when she came back to the front door and grabbed her purse along the way.

"All right, let's go then." Harley locked the door and followed Patrick out to his car.

Thankfully, the ride didn't take more than fifteen minutes and the radio was on to keep the awkward silence away, although Harley didn't have to worry much about what to say. It appeared that Patrick actually loved to talk. During the ride, he described his day at work for her and how one of the inmates at Arkham had decided to start a food fight in the cafeteria. Patrick had of course been there to prevent it from escalating.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Patrick opened the door for Harley and helped her out of the car. Such a gentleman. She didn't voice that thought aloud, but only said "thank you." The restaurant was a two storey building with a lot of tall windows. There was even a red carpet leading up to the entrance where a doorman was waiting to open the door for the arriving customers. Harley had never been here before and now she understood why. There was no way that this place could be cheap.

"Good evening," said the doorman as they approached and he opened the door for them. The inside was even fancier than the outside. A wall fountain was placed on the wall opposite to the entrance and a huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. There were a lot of tables spread across the room and there seemed to be quite a lot of guests. Patrick must have made a reservation, although she had no idea how he could possibly have managed that. One would have to make a reservation weeks in advance to get a table here.

Anyway, they were escorted to a table for two and Patrick kept up his gentlemanly act and pulled out the chair for Harley. Once they were both seated, Harley glanced around the place once more, taking it all in. "Wow, this place is really fancy! Do you come here often?" She didn't think that a regular Arkham orderly would really be able to afford coming to a place like this more than once a month, but who was she to judge?

"From time to time," he shrugged. "Whenever the paycheck rolls in I like to spoil myself. But this time I get to spoil a beautiful girl. Or maybe you prefer 'woman?'" he quickly added.

"It really doesn't matter," she reassured. "I like to be spoiled once in a while."

One of the waitresses came up to their table with a couple of menus, but before she could hand them out, Patrick stopped her. "There's no need, I already know what to order." Well, maybe you do, but what about me? Once again, she didn't voice that thought, but she couldn't refrain from furrowing her eyebrows at him. "We'll both have number thirteen," he told the waitress and she scribbled it down on her notepad. He turned to look at Harley. "Trust me, you'll love this one." She forced a smile, but she wasn't convinced. Couldn't he at least have let her look at the menu? But she didn't argue, not wanting to be a bother.

"And what would you like to drink?" the waitress asked.

"Just water," Harley replied before Patrick could do it for her.

"I'll have the same," Patrick said and the waitress left.

It was quiet between the two for a moment. When Harley looked around she noticed just how many of Gotham's socialites were there. The ladies wore fancy dresses and expensive jewelry and the men were dressed in Gucci suits. Some were even rude enough to stare at Harley and Patrick, no doubt thinking that they didn't belong there. "However were you able to make a reservation here?" Harley asked. Patrick shrugged again with a smirk.

"I have a couple of friends in high places. They're always kind enough to help me out. For one fact, I know the owner." Harley raised her eyebrows.

"The owner?" she asked, a little impressed. "Who is that?" As if on cue, a man in a tailored suit came over to their table. He was accompanied by a young woman who wouldn't take her hands off his arm.

"Patrick, so good to see you," the man said and when Harley looked up into his face, she couldn't believe who it was.

"Good to see you too, Bruce." Patrick shook hands with none other than Bruce Wayne. "Harley, this is Bruce Wayne. He owns the place." Bruce turned to Harley who was still slightly in shock. He extended his hand to her as well and she took it.

"Nice to meet you, Harley," Bruce said and then he paused, scrutinizing her face. "Say, wouldn't I know you? I know we haven't met, but I think I've seen your face in the papers."

"Well, I can understand that," Patrick said. "A face like that is hard to forget." Is he just going to keep talking about my looks the whole evening? Bruce snapped his fingers.

"Now I know! You're Dr. Harleen Quinzel, aren't you? The Joker's new shrink?" Harley nodded.

"Yes, that's me," she confirmed and once again, forced a smile. She didn't feel like talking about this now.

"You take care of yourself, all right?" Bruce said. "It was nice meeting you both. Now if you'll excuse us, we have our own table to go to." And so Bruce and his lovely company left them in peace.

"That's the fourth girl I've seen him with here," Patrick told her and chuckled. "I wonder if he's ever going to tie the knot."

"Who knows?" Harley spotted their waitress who came back with a jug of ice water and filled their glasses for them. They both thanked her and she said she'd be right back with their orders. He said number thirteen, Harley thought. She wasn't one who believed in superstition, but she really had no idea what was coming. The waitress exited the kitchen, carrying to plates, coming closer and closer. All right, here goes. Please let it be anything but… The waitress put the plates down in front of them.

Fish.

"Hope you enjoy!" the waitress said and she was off again. On the plate before Harley, there was a butter fried cod, potato puree, asparagus and white wine sauce.

"Hope you like fish," Patrick said. He had already grabbed his fork and knife, digging in. That was the third time that night Harley had to force a smile. Oh, so now you bother to take my opinion into account.

Harley had to force half of that cod down her throat. Okay, so it wasn't as bad as she'd feared, but it was still enough to make her sick. She had to lie and say that she wasn't really that hungry. When Patrick pulled over his car outside Harley's apartment, he grabbed her hand before she got out of the car. "I really had a good time tonight," he said.

"Yeah, so did I," she lied.

"Maybe we could do it again sometime?" Harley had feared he would ask her that. She simply gave him a smile and told him that they could talk about it later. So without further ado, he let her go and she waved him off. She knew one thing for sure: she would never go out with him again.

A/N: So what do you know, I whipped this chapter up real quick after all! No Joker though, I felt like this chapter had to focus solely on Harley's horrible date night. Poor thing, right? And also, Bruce Wayne cameo! I'm also planning to have a B-man cameo in the future. I know that Bruce/Batman more or less goes into hiding in between The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises, but I mean, come on, it's not like the criminal activity is going to die out during eight whole years! And the Joker isn't very likey to stay put in Arkham for that long either without escaping every once in a while. That's just how it works. No disrespect to Christopher Nolan of course or anyone else. I know that the reason the last film was played out that way is most likely because of Heath Ledger's passing. I'm sure he would have had a role in the last film had he still been with us. Rest in peace, Heath, you'll always be remembered...