A/N: This story is currently seeking a beta. Please PM me if interested, or if you have any suggestions.

November 2012

There was something decidedly sinister about the motley crew that had sequestered themselves away from the typical bar patrons. A twisted, turning corridor leading from the dance floor, through the kitchen and past the main offices ended here; a sizable room with dark wallpaper. Tiny vines and leaves danced down the walls in a supplicated yellow and the table, a large and dark bore the scars of heated arguments. The chairs had red velvet cushioning and were certainly less battle weary than the table. The sound of loud, bass heavy music was mostly muted this far back in the lounge but it was enough that the air was never silent.

The room was spoken about in hushed whispers, but the people in the room were spoken about in a much quieter, more urgent manner. On their own, they were frightening. When they decided that they were having a get-together all Gotham could do was duck and hope for the best.

There was a brunette at the table with girlish features and a grace that suggested she once danced who sat beside a red head woman, clearly bored and impatient. The man at the head of the table babbled on and on about what both women considered to be a foolish plan. He was young, new and too hot-headed to be taken seriously. Far too eager.

A chuckle floated through the air from the end of the table and the young man scoffed and asked what the joke was. He was rewarded with more laughter, a careless shrug, a lip smack and then encouraged to continue.

Harleen decided she needed to at least give the boy credit for continuing. She brushed her newly brunette hair from her eyes and stole a secretive glance at the scarred man who laughed. It had been a year since she'd seen him last and another since their tumultuous relationship had come to a close. When she had heard about the meeting and it's guests she quickly decided that going in as a blonde, in her old costume would just egg him on. It was too easy to encourage him and when he wanted to play, he played.

While she dyed her hair, she prayed for an anonymity that she was mostly sure this box of Chocolate Swirls would not provide. Their last meeting had left them both with a bad taste in their mouths and she was fairly sure he hated her. Harleen decided that at minimum he must have been affronted when he couldn't find her. She could give Gotham's police force very little credit with anything other than the witness protection program.

Why she was even invited to this shin-dig was beyond her. No longer a major player in Gotham's crime scene and even when she was, she was a sidekick. Not exactly the main event. Inconsequential arm candy. With a hammer.

The Joker's gaze slipped sideways to meet Harleen's and he gave her an amused but intense look. It promised trouble and Harleen decided that he was still very angry. He had every right to be she supposed, he planned and hoped very little in his line of work and when those once in a lifetime plans go unexpectedly wrong he always got very upset. She remember vaguely once when they had wired the city hall to explode, connected and rechecking every little piece and detonator to only have forgotten one essential wire. Four goons were shot, she received a black eye and she could have sworn that the Bat had laughed the tiniest bit at the Jokers expression and battering of the nullified detonator. It was a bad night. And he was in such a foul mood that he couldn't even chuck the mishap up to chaos.

He remembered very little about the past, so for once in his life could he have forgotten about her?

That was too much to ask.

She couldn't decided whether or not returning his gaze would make him back off or incite him. Would being passive cause him to lose interest or make him think he could walk all over her? If she stared right back would he take it as a challenge? When they had started seeing each other (dating seems like the wrong word to use), she couldn't always understand the subtle facial and body cues that revealed his mood. After a year they were second nature and a few months more she was at times sure she knew better than he did. Not that she'd ever admit that to him. He liked her spunk most of the time. She was more attractive to him when she had some fight in her, just as long as she was independent behind closed doors. Challenging his authority in front of the goons or other (super)villains was never an option and was a lesson she learned from the start.

The danger seemed to soften slightly from his smile and was replaced with playfulness. He had decided for her, quickly smacked his lips and returned his attention to the speaker, unable to look unamused. It was the same look he'd given her in their first few sessions, enticing her to embrace chaos. It had been one of his favorite games.

Harleen felt an elbow nudge her and she turned to focus on Pam instead and the raised eyebrow that the staring contest had earned her. Pamela hadn't been keen on informing Harleen about the invitation, concerned that perhaps that this new life that Harley had made for herself was one she really had wanted all along. It sure had seemed that way at first.

Harley performed quite the disappearing act and for the first few months forcing Pam to assume that she had died. That notion cemented itself in her mind the one time the Joker demanded Harley's whereabouts. She was sure he'd admit to killing her if he really had, if just to rub it in her face. He left her hideout more disgruntled then he entered and her with a few less ferns. Pam planted cyclamen for her and mourned privately.

It wasn't until June that she had received the first sign of life. A telephone call, from a number she didn't recognize and an area code she had never seen before.

"Pam?" asked a quiet Harley, "I'm sorry I didn't call before. It's just I wasn't sure if I could really get away from there. I'm alive, obviously, and doing well. I've got a new name, and an apartment and I'm teaching kindergarten. Really, I know, kindergarten. Well I'm not even really teaching, just assisting. Well it's not blowing up hospitals at least. I'll call again. I miss you."

The next time Harley left a message, she at least left an email address that Pamela could contact her with. She never picked up the phone when Pam called, and Pam suspected that she was using a pay phone. The area code led her to a small town on the west coast, close to Seattle, but Pam left the search at that. Harley wouldn't give her the assumed name she was living under or the name of the man she was very briefly engaged to.

Pamela received the invitation to this sham of a planning session and cautiously informed her friend of the details. Harleen was admittedly uncomfortable. Why send the invitation out to a woman who is missing and supposedly dead? Pam was shocked when upon her doorstep a few days later was Harley, looking soaked from the rain with a bag in her hand, but overall healthy. Pamela scraped the heist she had planned for the night and the two caught up.

Harley had let her hair grow a bit and it now just reached three or four inches passed her shoulders. She wasn't as sickly thin as when Pam had last seen her and she seemed to at least be cheery. She told Pam about the small town she stayed in, her job, her neighbors but it seemed like there was a disappointment edged into all the stories and especially when she asked to be called Harleen. Determined but disappointed.

Harleen then told her about Las Vegas and Pamela had half a mind to put her back on that plane and send her back to that hole-in-the-wall town she was living in and far way from Gotham. Far away from him. They dried and then dyed her hair later that evening, Harleen having pick up the box on her way from the airport. The dress was purchased the next day, (Harleen insisted on purchasing) and it was a generic affair. A sleeveless, scooped neck cocktail dress in red and black and a pair of black ballet flats. If Harleen demanded anything that day, it was for mediocrity.

Pamela's attention returned to the young man and his proposition. Admittedly, it wasn't completely awful, it just needed some tweaking. A healthy dose of reality really. The kid, an Emilio something-or-other, was related to the Maroni's. He was power hungry clearly and quickly becoming a favorite. From what she understood so far he a) wanted the mayor replaced, b) wanted the docks region really, really united in debauchery and c) was keen on a supervillian team up. Well fuck that.

"Well ladies and gents, whaddaya say?" Asked the kid, leaning in the table with both hands and watching their faces eagerly. Eddie, Oswald and Crane just stared, Harvey flipped his coin and gave the boy a thumbs down. Pam and Harleen glanced at each other, at Selina and then all three copied Harvey's gesture.

The Joker just laughed.

"And um, what did you hope to entice us with? Hm?" His tongue darting quickly to the left scar.

"The money," the kid shot back. The Joker snorted quietly, giggled and Harleen was sure this kid was going to die in the near future, if not on a bad day then surely by his own stupidity.

"Well my dear boy," started Oswald, "we will be sure to think it over thoroughly and contact you as soon as possible." He gestured politely towards the door and the young man took his charts and presentation material with him with only a slight huff. Pamela and Harleen rose to leave and Oswald gestured to their seats.

"Oh, sit! Stay. Drinks all round I think," cried Oswald, "it's been forever since we've seen you Miss Quinn!"

"Your looking healthy for a dead woman," added Harvey. He had been still raw about the Dawes woman when he had discovered her identity, and who slept in her bed. The first time they encountered each other, he told her how pretty she was and brushed a piece of hair from her face. The Joker broke his hand.

The second time he flipped his coin and the encounter ended in a stalemate with him being unable to reach his gun and being strangled by Harley's legs. They both considered the fight to be ongoing but unscheduled.

"I have good skin," she replied daintily. Harvey smirked a little and downed a glass of whiskey that Oswald had poured earlier that evening. "And a flight in the morning I'm afraid. So you boys will have to excuse us for the evening."

The Joker decided to watch her again, catching her eyes and giving her the slightest hint of the danger to come. His tongue darted out quickly to the scars and his lips gave a quiet smack before he spoke.

"Harls, what is it that you do do. Hrm?"

"I teach kindergarten now." She said softly continuing for the door. He laughed. She still wasn't sure if she hated how he laughed and quickly exited with Pam.