Harley and Bruce chatted over their dinners. Previously prepared and kept under silver domes to retain heat and moisture, the food was delightful. The kitchen staff had been dismissed for the night to allow Harley and Bruce to speak openly about their lives and relationship status without word leaking and becoming front page news.

"Do you mind telling me how long it took to do that?" Bruce asked, reaching across the table and taking Harley's hand. He held it up to look closer at the pattern. Each nail alternated between either red with a black diamond painted in the center or black with a red diamond. "You do seem to have a fixation on a particular color scheme and pattern."

Harley had trouble answering right away as she could only think about Bruce holding her hand. His touch sent electric thrills across her skin, and she fought against the quiver trying to work its way up her spine.

"It's uh," she stammered, trying to speak the words with a suddenly dry mouth. "It's not a chore if you like the work."

"Fair enough," Bruce acknowledged. He let go of her hand, placing it gently back on the table.

She'd held his arm and even kissed Bruce before, but it was different when he was the one instigating the contact. Harley was torn. On the one hand, she was exhilarated by Bruce's touch, but on the other, she also enjoyed being able to breathe.

"Do you mind my asking why you're so attached to the Harley Quinn persona?" he inquired, his tone indicating curiosity but also an unwillingness to push if she'd rather not talk about it.

"It's always been my thing," Harley admitted. She casually spun a fork in her spaghetti, twirling the pasta around and around with no real intent on eating it at the moment. "I think my folks had the idea in mind when they gave me the name Harleen."

"What makes you say that?" Bruce asked.

"Most kids get a stuffed animal or teddy bear from their folks," Harley went on, staring at her plate. "My folks got me a jester doll, and you should've seen the way they decorated my room."

"I take it this is similar," Bruce suggested with a wave toward their current surroundings.

"Yep," Harley confirmed. "Kids started calling me Harley Quinn in school. My parents suggested I play along to take the sting out of the insult; laugh with them because it's not an insult if it's a joke, or so they said. After years, the Harley name and persona stuck. In a twisted way, I was put on the path to be the Joker's stooge from the moment I was born."

She sighed softly.

"I'm sorry if this brought up bad memories," Bruce said, placing a comforting hand on hers.

Harley barely restrained her squeal of delight. She'd thought if she seemed depressed by her past, Bruce might try to console her, and it had worked perfectly.

"It's alright," Harley assured him, a flicker of her smile returning. "I live in a world of fun and laughter now. I've grown used to being Harley. It's who I am and has nothing to do with the Joker anymore. There may have been a few bumps, bruises, and broken bones along the way, but I'm here now...with you."

Bruce squeezed her hand in a reassuring manner.

"We all went through difficult things responsible for making us who we are," he told her. "Hardships haven't broken us, but made us resilient. We've become more than who we were in the beginning."

"I'm certainly having a lot more fun lately," Harley stated happily.

"Being as secretive and reserved as I am, I'm hesitant to admit this," Bruce confided in her. "But, I've been having more fun too as of late."

"It's not a crime to enjoy life," Harley pointed out.

"I know," Bruce agreed. "After my parents were murdered, I went through some dark days, and they never really ended. I told myself I became Batman to honor my parents and prevent the tragedy from happening to someone else, but I don't think it was the real reason."

"Batman was your way to escape being Bruce Wayne," Harley concluded. "Bruce had the tragic past, not Batman. Bruce was the vulnerable kid, but Batman was the untouchable crime fighter."

"Exactly," Bruce instantly agreed. "I see your psychiatric training is still sharp."

"I don't know," Harley countered. "I haven't been able to diagnose myself. In fact, I've been thinking of firing myself for being ineffective."

Bruce chuckled.

"Many people carry scars, physically or emotionally, and their past can hinder their present while limiting their future," Bruce stated. "One thing I learned during my quest to become Batman is I don't have to be defined by my past. I became something new, something better. The whole human race is a work in progress."

"True," Harley confirmed. "But, some of us require more extensive renovations."

Bruce and Harley laughed together.

***

Three Weeks Later...

"Hey, Alfred," Harley said cheerily as she entered Wayne Manor while attired in her black and red motorcycle leathers.

"Master Bruce will be right with you," Alfred explained. "He's currently speaking with a guest."

"Anyone I know?" Harley asked.

"Dick Grayson," Alfred answered. "Master Bruce raised him after the Graysons were killed."

"I'll wait," Harley said, not wanting to intrude on family matters. She headed for the parlor and plopped into a comfy chair sideways, throwing her legs over one of the armrests and leaning back against the other.

"Before you speak with Master Wayne, I wanted to discuss your gift to me," Alfred mentioned after he closed the main door and joined her in the parlor.

"Did you finish the book?" Harley asked.

"I did indeed," Alfred confirmed.

"And?" she prompted.

"As you know, the story centers on an uptight businessman whose life is turned upside down by a beautiful free spirit," Alfred told her. "Your gift wasn't exactly subtle."

"It wasn't supposed to be," Harley told him. "I wanted you to see how I can be good for him. He trusts you and listens to your advice, so this won't go anywhere while you're still opposed."

Alfred quietly sat down in a chair opposite Harley, his posture perfectly straight.

"I have watched over Master Bruce since he was born," Alfred began. "Since the passing of his parents, a pall has settled over this house, but it seems to lift when you are here. I know his parents would've wanted him to be happy, and you seem to be able to bring that to him. So, if you require it of me, you have my blessing."

Harley sat up as if to hug the old butler, but he quickly raised a cautionary hand to stay her intent.

"Let us go see Master Bruce," Alfred suggested as he rose from his chair.

Harley followed him into the library where Alfred pulled down on the pendulum of a sizable grandfather clock. A click sounded in the wall before the massive timepiece slid aside and revealed stone steps leading down into a cave.

The natural stone was cold and gray. The air matched the stone in temperature, but its color was solid black where the light fixtures on the walls were unable to hold the darkness at bay. Harley noticed the large and powerful form of the Batmobile in the distance underneath a large ceiling mounted light, parked where the vehicle could be ready for instant action if the situation called for it. Lockers and enclosed shelves were neatly arranged on a nearby platform, but she couldn't tell what might be inside. Other than the lights, the only illumination in the cave came from a wide computer monitor mounted to the wall above a complicated keyboard and control system.

As Alfred and Harley progressed deeper into the Batcave, they heard voices in a heated discussion.

Seated in front of the oversized computer was Bruce, looking dashing as always in his dark suit and tie. Standing, and sometimes pacing, in front of him was a man in his early to mid-twenties wearing a sleeveless white dress shirt and gray slacks. Both men were being very vocal in their disagreement.

Alfred raised a hand.

"Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here until I announce you," Alfred suggested. "Master Dick doesn't seem to be in the most welcoming of moods."

Harley nodded, taking a seat on the cold stone of the steps while Alfred went on ahead to meet with Bruce and Dick. She was still close enough to hear their conversation.

"I've been watching the papers, waiting for the two of you to break up," said the fiery young man standing in front of Bruce. "I know you're only dating her to keep the reporters off your back, but three weeks is long enough. It's time to cut her loose. She's dangerous."

"You don't understand, Dick," Bruce said firmly. "I like having her around."

"You can't be serious," Dick said with unbelief written all over him. He noticed Alfred approaching. "Alfred, will you please explain to Bruce he needs to get rid of the clown before she ruins everything?"

"I hate to be contrary," Alfred began hesitantly. "But, her presence here has been good for Master Bruce."

"You drank the Kool-Aid too, didn't you?" Dick asked in an accusing manner.

"You're still new to the hero business," Bruce reasoned. "When you've done it as long as I have, you'll understand. There's an enormous amount of weight that goes along with this job, trying to save people while maintaining your cover identity. Someday, you won't be fast enough, smart enough, or skilled enough, and someone is going to die. I live with that thought every single time I put on the cape and cowl. I live with the knowledge that one day my identity could be discovered and I'll be killed. But, it isn't the threat of death worrying me as much as the thought of what will become of this city and the good people who live here with no Batman to protect them."

Bruce leaned back in his chair and sighed wearily.

"It's a great deal of weight for anyone to bear, but it's what I do," Bruce went on after a moment. "Imagine being pushed underwater and not knowing if you'll reach the surface again. Harley is so full of life and energy, when I'm with her, I can breathe again. She helps me forget the pressure, and I love her for it."

Harley sat up straighter at the mention of the word love, but she wasn't the only one to have noticed.

"Love?" Dick almost shouted. "You can't be that serious."

"I am," Bruce confirmed. "It's still a little premature, but I'm thinking she could be the one."

Harley's gasp of surprise was cut short when she clapped both hands over her mouth, but it still echoed off the cavern walls enough for the three men to hear and turn in her direction. She waved the fingers of one hand at them from where she sat on the steps. "Hey, boys."