Author's Note: This fanfic is strongly based on Gotham Adventures #10 Mightier than the Sword and later on Gotham Adventures #14 Masks of Love. I've used the comics as a strong basis for this fic but with some deviations to look more deeply at the HQXNW romance (though in the end, staying true to JXHQ). Reviews welcome, Flames not. I write to get it out of my system, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Plots and Consequences

She eyed the building with a heavy sigh. It looked dank, dark and small. Signaling to her pets, she walked in, carrying only her small suitcase, her whole life packed away in neat little squares. Mr Columbine waited for her near the elevators and greeted her warmly, though she could already tell that his intentions did not fall in line with sole concern for her well-being. He motioned for her to follow him to the elevator. A man stepped out as the elevator doors opened, in a rush and desperate to hide his face. "Good afternoon, Mr Rushdie." Rushdie nodded his head to Columbine in acknowledgement and disappeared down the long hallway.

"Who was that?" She asked quietly, watching Rushdie scurry away, a trail of paper and pens behind him.

"One of my other…endangered writers. I keep him here for safe keeping, just like I'm keeping you." She followed him into the elevator, not even paying attention to the floor they were headed to.

"I don't need protecting Mr Columbine, honest." As the doors opened, he stepped out and began walking down the hall.

"The Joker was heard shouting threats about you and your book, just before he broke out…" The pets look up at Harley when his name was said. She reached down to give one a pat as they slowly lagged behind Columbine. This wasn't what she wanted.

"But…"

Columbine opened the door.

The room was bare, simplistic. A bed in one corner, a small desk squished opposite. A small window looking out onto a fire escape. Barely any room to move.

"This room and place is nice and secured. I'm not taking chances with my next best seller." He walked her through the room, showing her the essentials. She was only half listening, examining her new closed quarters. Wondering where she was going to keep her hyenas.

"Mister J…I mean the Joker…He doesn't care about me or what I do anymore. We haven't been an item for quite a while. It's mostly why I got declared sane." She stopped in front of the small mirror in her bathroom, taking in her makeshift outfit of jeans and black crop top, her red jacket barely providing any kind of weather protection. Her face clear of makeup, the wild spirit in her eyes gone. Her heart broken.

He eyed her suspiciously.

"Still, why take chances?" He turned to the desk. "Now, I've set you up with a typewriter and stocked the fridge and if you need anything, just call the front desk. You're registered under the name Elise Archer, got that?"

She turned away from the mirror, facing her new employer.

"…yeah….Archer, got it."

"Okay now, write, write write!" With that he left, closing the door behind her.

She sighed heavily, already feeling the walls of her new prison closing around her. Trading one cell for another, compliments of the Joker. She placed her suitcase down onto the bed and opened it up; dumping things onto the floor, letting her pets get comfortable on the bed. A broken picture frame fell out, cracked glass and faded memories.

She placed the frame face down and turned toward her desk, eyeing the new typewriter Columbine had left her with reluctance. Really, she should be grateful she even had a place to stay after being released from Arkham. Not many believed that she had been 'cured'. She wasn't even so sure of it herself. Flashes of friends from Arkham littered her mind. Ivy, Arnie, Ed, Crane, J-no. She would not think of him. She would not ruin this chance.

"The sooner he's out of our lives babies, the better…" She sat down at her desk and began typing. She needed to write, she needed to make an honest living. And maybe along the way she'd make some friends, get invited to their parties and start a new life. A life without his hold on her. A life of her very own.

It was dark by the time Columbine returned home. Late nights were usual for him, in his line of work of publishing at risk authors. Harley would be his next best seller, his next money maker. He fumbled with his keys, not noticing how unusually quiet it was, preoccupied with thoughts about fame and fortune. Harley Quinn-Dr Harleen Quinzel. What a story her life would make! The minute she was released Columbine had gotten in contact with her, offered her a job and a place to live. Columbine was smart, he knew that Harleen had a doctorate, that she had a brain in that blond head of hers whether or not she decided to use it. After all, it's usually geniuses who cross the border into insanity.

He jiggled the door open, walking into his hall. "Oh dear…the lights aren't working…" He mumbled to himself, flicking the dead switch. He ventured further in, taking his hat and coat off, noticing that his normal astute butler was nowhere to be found.

"Jenkins? Jenkins? Where is that Butler…." He wandered up the stairs, his voice echoing in the massive hall.

"I've given him the night off…." Columbine felt a cold hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. And there in the soft light of a single candle, a white face, yellow eyes, green hair and a menacing blood red smile. His voice caught in his throat as The Joker grasped onto him tightly. "Oh don't fret dear boy, I'm not going to kill you!" He cackled manically, tightening his grip. "I need you alive to publish my memoirs when I write them next week!" He wrapped his arm around Columbine, bringing him closer. In the light Columbine could make out his iconic purple suit. "But until then…You're going to tell me where you've stashed my little Harley Pumpkin or things could get nasty…you read me?" Joker let out a high pitched laugh as he dug his fingers into Columbine's shoulders, the cold hard barrel of a gun pressing against his back.

At this moment, Columbine realized an ugly and detrimental truth to survival in Gotham City: nobody messes with Harleen Quinn other than the Joker.

Harley awoke rested, having slept soundly during the night. Ignoring the chaotic mess of the room, she quietly lifted herself from her bed to avoid waking up the babies. It's gotta be six in the morning…

She felt in better spirits than yesterday. She had accomplished a large amount of writing, allowing herself to be focused instead of muddled and frenzied. She walked over to the window to lift the curtins and let in the morning light, maybe she'd take a break and go outside to get some fresh air-

"Good Morning." Harley fell backwards, her heart racing in a state of shock.

"Mind if we come in?" There, on her fire escape stood a stoic Nightwing and a rather good humoured and currently hanging upside down accomplice Robin, whichever version of Robin was running around Gotham these days. She quickly composed herself and turned away.

"No, get lost! I'm a regular citizen now; I have a certificate and everything…" It sounded in her head as stupid as it did coming out of her mouth, but she didn't care. She was tired of being harassed by people. Everybody thinking she couldn't take care of herself. "That means I don't have to put up with you, or the B-man anymore!" At this point Nightwing and Robin had crawled through her fire escape, taking mental notes of their surroundings. Nightwing turned his attention to Harley.

"With simple detective work we managed to track you down in a matter of ours, the Joker could do the same…Harley you need our protection!" She turned away from him, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She didn't want or need their protection; she could handle herself well on her own and she was going to make that clear to them. She swiftly spun around to face Nightwing, pushing him backwards and pressing her finger right into his chest.

"Listen Buster, Me and Mister J are through, you hear?! He's not interested in little old me; he's got better things to do. Got it?" Even saying it seemed dishonest; she knew deep down that she wanted him to be interested in her, in what she was doing, even if it meant he was going to kill her.

"I don't agree. Robin and I are going to stick around to keep you safe, or move you someplace safer."

"It's for your own good Quinn." The little brat had to speak up. She had had enough.

"I though the whole point of my being declared sane…was so I could start making my own decisions!" She grabbed the nearest item, a plunger and slammed it right into Nightwing's face. This was enough to wake up her beloved hyenas as she jumped out the window. "Keep them busy for mama babies!"

She knew they'd be okay. They were always okay. The wind felt good as she climbed up the stairs. Her muscles were restricted, lacking in their smoothness, their graceful acrobatics. It had been so long since she had last really used her body in such a way. The risks, the daring moves. So long since she had used a fence as a balance beam, a rooftop as a vault, a telephone wire as an uneven bar…She shook her head. She couldn't go back there. Not anymore. Not if she wanted to kick her habit, rid herself of her demon, her only demon…

"Hello…." There, at the top of the roof, the purple pants, the lean but muscular frame, the looming grin and the cold, hard eyes. "Read any good books lately…..Harley?"

The Joker.