Harley awoke in Jack's bed the next morning to him gently shaking her. "C'mon, kid, time to get up," he murmured. "Don't want you to be late for your classes."

"What are you, my dad?" she asked with a smile. "Waking me up like I'm a naughty child oversleeping on a school day. I know when I have to get up, and we still have a few more minutes in bed," she murmured, curling her arms around him.

"No, you need breakfast before we head out," he insisted. "I got some cereal and I can make you some toast…"

He tried to get up, but she pulled him back down into her arms and kissed him slowly. "I'd rather have you than food," she murmured.

"It's not healthy…" he began.

"No, it's not," she agreed. "You're very bad for me, aren't you?"

She kissed him again, but he drew away. "I don't like…you talking like that," he muttered.

"Why not? It's just a joke," she said. "Aren't you meant to be this great joker? Don't tell me you're taking it seriously."

"It's not funny if it's true," he said quietly. He pulled away from her and sat up again. "You should get a quick shower if you're not gonna have breakfast," he said. "Don't wanna go to school smelling like…"

He trailed off. "Smelling like what?" she asked. "Like you? You want me to wash all trace of you offa me so nobody at college knows what we've been up to, is that it? You don't think college kids having sex is fairly normal?"

"Maybe it is, but not with a…" He trailed off again.

"A criminal?" finished Harley. "Is that what you mean? Why are you so ashamed of that word? I thought you weren't afraid of anything."

He stood up, reaching for his clothes. "Well, maybe I am. Your professor certainly proved that the other day. You're not going to tell him about us, I hope."

"It's none of his business," she replied, standing up and heading for the shower. "It's nobody's business but our own. Anyway, I doubt Professor Crane would approve," she added, turning on the water. "He has a very low opinion of criminals."

"And a very high opinion of you," replied Jack. "And low and high don't go together."

"I think we fit together pretty nicely, actually," murmured Harley. "Don't you?"

He turned to look at her, waiting expectantly for him in the shower and holding out the soap to him. All his reluctance instantly vanished as he seized her in his arms again and kissed her deeply. "Mmm yes, perfect fit," she whispered, embracing him.

They didn't have time for breakfast after they finished showering, and Jack drove Harley to campus just in time for her class. She was nearly late because she had to give Jack several good-bye kisses, but she arrived on time feeling refreshed and ready to learn, and indescribably happy.

Professor Crane noticed her good mood, and asked her to stay after class. "I was disappointed to see you absent yesterday, Harley," he said.

"I took a sick day, Professor," she replied.

"I hope you're feeling better today," he said, examining her. "You don't look sick, or particularly tired anymore."

"No, I'm feeling just great," agreed Harley with a smile. "Never better, in fact."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," he said. "And have you decided on a new topic for your essay?"

She nodded. "Yes, and I think you'll approve. I'm going to write about fear as a motivation for committing crimes. I hope it's ok if I cite your book as a source."

"Of course – it's a very authoritative and well-researched source, if I do say so myself," he replied, clearly very pleased. "I'm glad you decided to rely on facts and data rather than the testimony of Jack Napier. I trust that he hasn't shown his face again after lying to you."

Harley shook her head slowly. "I haven't seen him," she lied. "But he did write me a note saying I wouldn't be seeing him again. He also said something about…you drugging him and making him hallucinate his deepest fears."

"Criminals will say anything, won't they?" sighed Crane.

"So it's not true?" asked Harley, studying him.

He looked calmly back at her. "Who would you trust, Harley?" he asked. "Your professor, or the career criminal? Now you're a smart girl - who would you trust to tell you the truth?"

"Well…you," agreed Harley, slowly. "You were the one who told me the truth about Jack Napier, after all. But I don't understand why he'd make up a story like that."

"You'll find in your study of the criminal mind that they frequently say and do things that make little sense to those of us who are sane," replied Crane. "But I daresay he hopes to drive a wedge between us."

"Why would he want to do that?" asked Harley.

"Well, to get back at the man who revealed his secret, of course," said Crane. "If he convinces you that you can't trust me anymore, then you might not want my guidance anymore. You might turn against the idea of criminal psychology altogether, and then I'd lose my star pupil."

"I don't think he'd want to mess up my life like that," said Harley.

"Criminals are inherently selfish," said Crane. "I suspect he does truly care for you, but ultimately those kinds of people always prioritize themselves. Nothing is more important to them than they are. In a choice between you and him, he'll choose himself every time. That's just what criminals are like."

Harley said nothing, but she didn't believe him. That might be what most criminals were like, but not Mr. J. He couldn't be lumped in with common criminals – he was different. Professor Crane knew a lot about criminals in general, but he was wrong about Mr. J. He would never hurt her.

…

Later that day, there was another knock on Professor Crane's office door, and once again a man entered who wasn't a student of his. But this time, it was someone he recognized.

"Commissioner Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, standing up to shake the man's hand.

"It's not much of a pleasure, I'm afraid," sighed Gordon, sitting down in the chair offered by Crane. "We need your help on an unfortunate case."

"Well, of course I'd be happy to offer my psychological expertise…" began Crane.

"Not that kind of help," interrupted Gordon. "We just need some information about one of your students. Or at least, we think she's one of your students, but that's one of the things you could confirm for us."

He reached into his briefcase. "I don't know if you've seen the papers today, but last night the Valestra gang escaped from jail during a power cut. We're still trying to piece together how that happened, since it's pretty embarrassing for us, and we interviewed everyone working at the jail yesterday to see if anything unusual occurred before the power cut. The only thing remotely out of the ordinary was that a young woman who claimed to be a criminal psychology major at Gotham University came in to ask for a tour. She thought it would help with her essay on the treatment of inmates at local jail facilities. We're wondering if you recognize her," he said, handing him a photo taken by the security cameras.

Crane said nothing as he examined the picture of Harley. "And what if I do?" he asked, looking up at Gordon. "Is she suspected in aiding the gang's escape?"

"Not at this time," replied Gordon. "We're just trying to confirm her story."

Crane nodded slowly. "She's a student of mine, yes."

"And she is working on an essay about local jail services, to your knowledge?" asked Gordon.

Crane nodded again. "She had picked a topic already that I thought was entirely unsuitable for her paper, so I know she's been revising it. I can't say I'm certain that's what she decided on, but I do know she was looking for a different topic. She may have settled on that."

"Great. That's all we need to know," said Gordon, standing up. "As long as her story checks out, which it seems to."

"So you're exonerating her from any involvement in the escape?" asked Crane.

"There's nothing to exonerate – she was never really a suspect," said Gordon, shrugging. "Why would a bright young college kid be working with a notorious criminal gang? It doesn't make any sense, but we have to follow up on every lead, even the unlikeliest. Thank you for your time, Professor Crane," he said, leaving the office and shutting the door behind him.

Crane said nothing, staring after him and leaning slowly back in his chair as his mind whirled with possibilities, none of them good. "Oh, Harley, Harley, Harley," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "This is a very stupid move from a very bright girl. I expected much better from you. But perhaps you don't realize the magnitude of your involvement, and its implications. Well, I suppose it is all part of your education," he sighed. "Fortunately you have a very knowledgeable mentor who can help you understand what you've done."