Part 1: Fiji

It was late night paperwork that got Fiji Cavanaugh sent to Arkham Asylum. The note being added to her file after she blacked out and set her lovely padded cell on fire got mixed up with a different note for the file of one Bridgit Pike aka Lady Firefly, because of course the unpaid intern was going to mix up the two people he thought of as "the fire girl", and within the week Fiji had been transferred to Arkham.

In the high security ward.

With her cell right across from Harley Quinn's.

If she hadn't been insane before she got there then she would be very soon. The ever so wonderful padded cells at Arkham weren't soundproof and Harley loved to talk. It got even worse when Poison Ivy was brought in. The two women would not shut up, and somehow Fiji always ended up talking with them. Well, the only other choice would be to talk to herself and if she starting doing that then she was sure she would never get out of Arkham. Besides, Ivy was pretty cool.

Dear god, she had to get out of there.

Her blackouts didn't stop, but with help from Harley's training as a psychologist she started using visualization to make them less destructive. That was one good thing that came from being sent to Arkham. She hadn't set anything on fire in weeks, though that could have been because she didn't have access to anything that could create a fire. How her jumpsuit had changed from orange to green she wasn't going to try to figure out.

Then she woke up after a blackout four stories up on the roof of a building with a gunfight going on in the streets below and a masked teenage boy dressed like a stoplight pulling her behind a stone gargoyle.

"What are you doing here?" the boy hissed.

"I-I don't know," Fiji said. The last thing she remembered was...Oh. The Joker had come to break Harley out of Arkham and hadn't been shy about using a lot of explosives. So now she was an Arkham escapee. That wasn't good.

The sound of gunfire rang out and Fiji and the boy ducked further behind the gargoyle.

"We've got to get out of here," the boy said. "Do you have somewhere you can go?"

"Anywhere that's not Gotham," Fiji said.

Strangely, considering the bullets flying all over the place, the boy grinned. "Well, you wouldn't want to go to Blüdhaven either, but I think I can help you out. Hold on tight."

"What?"

The boy put one arm around Fiji's waist and then, so quickly that she didn't even realize what he was doing before it was far too late to change his mind, took a grappling gun off his belt, fired it, and jumped off of the building. Fiji's scream was drowned out by the gunfire.

When the boy landed a few streets over on another rooftop, Fiji stumbled away from him and he waited politely while she got her stomach out of her throat.

"Who the hell are you?" Fiji demanded once she didn't feel like she might throw up.

The boy smirked. "Robin."

Robin? This was the little birdie Harley was always talking about?

Fiji stared and Robin just kept smirking. For some reason Fiji got the feeling that he was insufferably handsome under that mask and the smirk would have looked fantastic with the rest of his face.

"I'm Fiji," Fiji said at last. She quickly added, "My parents named us after places they wanted to travel."

Robin's smirk morphed into a full-fledged grin. "Nice to meet you, Fiji. Let's get you out of Gotham."