A/N: Jeremiah Arkham is based on the likeness of actor Donald Sutherland, David Rubenstein is based on the likeness of actor Michael Weston.

Jeremiah Arkham entered the small conference room in the offices of Turner, Schultz and Hotch. Harleen Quinzel stiffened as she took in the tall man who wore an intense gaze directed at her as two other men followed him inside. The three men sat down opposite of her and David Rubenstein at the table. David patted her hand gently and then set his cold, blue eyes upon Arkham. The brunette opened a portfolio on the desk in front of him and smiled, but not kindly.

"Doctor Arkham, I know you and you're lawyers have had time to review these documents, so let's get down to it. You can settle the matter here or we can drag this into an open and very public trial." David said and sat back in his seat with authority.

Arkham quirked an arched brow at him and glanced at his legal advisors and then looked at Harleen.

"I must say that I am very sorry for what happened to Doctor Quinzel, but I fail to see how you can hold the asylum responsible for the actions of the Joker." He said in a calm voice.

Harleen sucked in a sharp breath and moved to stand and shout the man down, but David touched her arm and looked at her pleadingly. She acquiesced and stayed in her seat. The bruises and small cuts she wore on her face making the scowl she gave Arkham all the worse.

"We have affidavits from several of your employees and the police as well as the statements you gave when you turned over funds for the ransom for Doctor Quinzel's release." David replied.

"The reputation of your institution has already been tarnished by the actions of Doctor Jonathan Crane and I believe that a public trial would further hurt its image. I assume that it would be very bad for you to lose funding from your private contributors for the sake of their own reputations. Everyone in the city saw the Joker's tape and what he did to Doctor Quinzel. I doubt they would be very sympathetic to your plight in this lawsuit in court." David said confidently.

"We have prepared a counter-offer for your consideration." One of Arkham's lawyers replied as he slid a couple documents across the table. David and Harleen both looked at them and Harleen's face flushed red beneath her blue-yellow bruises. David glanced at her and conveyed an expression meant to keep her quiet. She sighed and shot a glare at the other men.

"This is unacceptable." David said calmly.

Harleen threw open the door to her apartment and threw her keys and purse and growled with frustration as David closed the door behind them. It had been a long, grueling afternoon with Arkham and his attorneys and she had had to hold in her feelings and her tongue throughout the whole process.

"I know it's not exactly what you wanted, Harley, but at least you still have your job, your dignity." He said reassuringly as he slid his hands down her shoulders and tried to pull her into an embrace. She tensed up and he let her go and watched her storm off to the bedroom.

David sighed and went to the kitchen from which he retrieved a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses and then joined Harley in the bedroom where she lay face down upon the bed, screaming into her pillow. Her body shook with sobs as David set the bottle and glasses on the nightstand and sat down, gently rubbing circles on her back.

He abandoned the idea of calming her with alcohol and lay beside her, wrapping an arm loosely around her, stroking her long blonde hair while he planted small kisses on her head. She would inevitably go to sleep again without eating and wake up throughout the night screaming and in tears.

David tried his best to take care of her but felt nearly as helpless as she did. He was a lawyer but not a counselor. He'd known from the very beginning when Harley had come home so excited that she had gotten the Joker's case that it would end badly. He hadn't expected that it would end with the Joker kidnapping and menacing his fiancé while he held her hostage for two days.

The phone rang and Harley rolled her head slowly to look at him.

"I don't want to talk to anyone, David." She said in a small voice with a pleading look in her eyes.

"And you don't have to, sweetheart." He replied, gently kissing her forehead.

"Do you really have to go?" She asked, wiping her face.

David's heart sank as she asked the question again. He was scheduled to leave the following afternoon for a week-long legal conference in Japan. The timing was horrible as just five days before his love had been through such a terrible ordeal. They both had, but for her it had been devastating. In the wake, Arkham had tried to fire her and her colleagues discredit her. Why she still wanted the job puzzled him, but he stood by her side.

"I'm sorry." He breathed and she sniffed as she shed new tears. "Commissioner Gordon said he would have an officer stay here while I'm gone."

"Because He's still out there" She spat. "If someone had been watching like they were supposed to this never would have happened." He touched her face.

"I'm sorry." He whispered and she looked at him darkly.

"No, don't say you're sorry. Everyone's been saying that and they don't really mean it. They're just happy that it didn't happen to them." She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes. "He didn't say he was sorry."

"Harley," he began but she cut him off.

"No! Get out! Leave me alone, I don't want your reassurance, I don't want Arkham's damn money, I want my life back." She snapped and began sobbing. "I want everything to be just like it was before, before."

Joker hummed to himself as he cleaned and oiled his Glock 18 and glanced at the news playing on the television. They were still talking about him and he chuckled and began to reassemble his weapon. The sound of her voice as she pleaded with the reporters caught his attention and he looked up again.

Doctor Harley's harried expression and the exasperation in her voice as she repeatedly cried "no comment" as the reporters followed her and a man to a car amused him.

"Don't you like to answer questions, Harley?" He smirked. "Oh right, you prefer to be the one asking the questions, sorry my mistake."

The reporters talked about how she'd met with Arkham and his legal team and Joker frowned at the manner in which the man behaved with Harley as he helped her into the car. They way they looked at one another. He rose and stepped closer to the screen as their retreat was replayed a couple of times as is par with news networks with limited footage. He tilted his head and studied their expressions. Then he clenched his jaw and hit the button to shut off the television.

They were lovers, he realized. It was funny that she or anyone else had neglected to divulge that information. It would have made the time he'd spent with her that much more amusing. Not to mention the enjoyment he would have had playing with the boyfriend while he had Harley under lock and key.

There was always next time.

He returned to his table and glanced at the scattered papers and implements and placed his hands upon it, his fingers spread wide. He was tense; laying low did that to him. In the asylum he had no other choice but to sit in his cell and cook up new ideas for when he got out. Being on the outside and still a prisoner because every damned fool in the city now knew what he really looked like and were looking for him was worse than being locked up.

At least he had some seed money to get things rolling again. He'd spent the past week getting things back in order, finding old and new help and getting his head together. He still had to remain relatively invisible while getting back into Gotham's underworld and that was not an easy punch to pull. It wouldn't be as easy to get people to follow him this time around.

A noise broke his train of thought. He glanced toward the stairwell and saw a brilliant flash of light and a sound like distant thunder which accompanied it. He frowned and picked up his gun and cautiously approached the stairwell. He knew his moods were often dark, but not so much that it would create a thunderstorm under his own roof.

He smelled ozone.

He hunched his shoulders and set a foot quietly on the stair below and then the one after that and so on, the tension building within him so that he felt like a spring winding and winding into a tight coil.

He heard a voice call out from the floor he was silently approaching, a confused and frightened tone within it.

It was a woman's voice.

"Mista J! Mista J? Where are ya?" The voice despaired.

He frowned; no one had ever called him by that name. He stopped at the entrance to the living room and tilted his head to peer into the darkness. The windows were covered with newspaper and allowed little light into the room. Even still, he saw a short figure stumbling around, arms outstretched and feeling for something solid.

A floorboard creaked.

"Mista J?" Her voice called. And it was Her voice. He closed his eyes and flicked the light switch on.

He opened his eyes to see a woman in a red and black jester's costume covering her eyes, blinded by the sudden light. She let out a little squeak and then blinked her eyes as they adjusted to the light. Hers were light blue eyes behind a black domino mask, her face painted white.

She saw him.

"Mista J! Why'd ya hafta sneak around in the dark? I was worried!" She cried and then blinked her eyes a few times as she studied him.

"Harley?" He asked bewildered both by her presence and her appearance.

"Y-you're not Mista J" she said sounding nervous. She took a step backward and quickly glanced around the room before looking at him again.

"Where is he, what'd ya do with my Puddin'?" She said in an angry, scared voice.

She lunged at him and he caught her as she began hitting him. He grabbed at her wrists and she landed a knee to his groin. He doubled over and she jumped on his back, pulling his hair. He tried to shake her off of him and then backed into a wall, hard. She lost her grip and he whirled around and caught her with a glancing blow of his gun to the side of her head. She went down, moving her lips slowly as she lost consciousness.

He stood above her, eyeing her crumpled form warily.

"What the hell?" He said to himself shaking his head.

A/N: Harley Quinn is based on the likeness of actress Mia Sara.

This was my original idea for the story that became "Me and My Old Lady." It was based off this inspiring little comic.

http://wolves-dragons .Deviantart .com/art/ where-s-your-harley- 96249896