Harleen Quinzel, despite the last few hours, found herself awake, in the middle of their large bed, and worried.

After Harry had thoroughly pleasured her with his unnaturally talented tongue, he had taken her once again, while Ivy watched, touching herself, this time under much more pleasant circumstances. After her first orgasm, she sauntered over to them and kissed her, caressing the length that had yet to explore the blonde's depths.

She fathomed that he wouldn't be able to fully penetrate her for a few years yet - she was a small girl, at five foot two, and just over a hundred pounds. She could only hope that she had more growing to do.

And that was the thought that made her worry. Well, one of them.

He wasn't going to be there, to grow with her, to be there with her and Ivy. Eventually, he had to go home.

And now, not even twenty-four hours after meeting him, she was beginning to find it hard to imagine him leaving their lives.

She remembered Luna's words; she found it difficult to think about anything else; the sight of her two favorite people 'getting along' distracting her for a few hours, but now the thought was back after a much needed rest.

How could she potentially love someone, knowing that she could never see him again after, maybe, a couple of weeks?

She couldn't ask him to stay - he practically had a family at home, and while she occasionally deluded herself with thoughts that she and Ivy were the most beautiful, and loveable, she wanted to be realistic.

She was replaceable, really. In fact, had she not known him as well as she did, she could very well say that this was simply a summer vacation from his regular girls, and he could very well chalk it up to another amazing experience when he went to his world, not looking back.

She could very easily see that happening.

She glanced over to him, on her left. Her head was on his arm, and he slept so peacefully, so child-like.

Pamela looked like that when she was asleep, too. She was so vulnerable around her, so safe, and Harley cherished it.

And it reminded her of the other reason she worried; her Pammy.

She and Harry had romped beautifully, and Pamela seemed to have just as much fun. She even went to grab the vial of medicine she had left in the discarded jean shorts in the hallway, and had sensually rubbed him across his scar-filled back while he reached out and fingered her moist snatch with as just a slow and agonizing pace. He had joked, with his head in Harley's lap as she strummed her fingers in his hair, that they both close their eyes if they actually wanted to continue.

It really wasn't a joke, in hindsight. He had said it with a laugh and a grin, but she could tell he was genuinely worried that they were disgusted by his scars to a point where the fun might stop forever.

So yes, Harley ultimately decided, Harry was a one-in-a-million gem. Tomorrow, if he had the chance to leave, he would possibly want to stay for a few more days. Hell, maybe he would ask her to come with him?

Her optimism was in full effect, and she knew it, but she didn't care. Maybe, if they could find a way to travel back and forth between his homeland and hers, she would never have to be apart from him.

She was certain that he felt something for them. If, at the least, something for her.

No matter how implausible (compared to the rest of his life story, she sarcastically reminded herself) it alleviated her fears of the first problem. And it only compounded to the other problem.

Harry's steady and slow tickle of Ivy's womanhood had her panting and wanting, to a point where her hands trembled against his skin. Harley had a perfect view, and she made the offer to Harry that he should do a little more than scratch her itch.

She was haunted by the look on Ivy's face. It was only there for a half-second, but it was there. She looked so... uneasy, at the thought; almost fearful. Harley was so distracted by the look, that she barely heard Harry's tired excuse. Seconds later, the look was forgotten, and Ivy went on to cum on his digits, even as he prodded her anal passage again with his middle finger, and they all fell asleep soon after, Harry on her left, Ivy on her right. Harry never saw Ivy's expression, and Ivy had never noticed her girlfriend's stare.

So, Ivy wasn't yet ready to take that step, and Harley completely understood.

And still, some part of her, maybe the selfish part, wondered if she ever could be ready.

She wasn't bothered by the thought of Ivy not having actual sex with Harry. If anything, that was a normal reaction to someone she had known for less than a day. She was only mildly worried at the notion that Ivy might not trust him for a few days yet, to let him go that far with her.

But she had seen the way Harry reacted before, when he saw that she felt uncomfortable around him. She did not want that to happen again.

No one should feel uncomfortable in her own home, he said. And she agreed. She did not want that to happen, either.

Not to mention, she was feeling a bit... overwhelmed by their activities. It hurt in a pleasant way before, but now... it just hurt. Being stuffed to the literal brim did that to a girl.

Her hand grazed his arm, before kissing it, and rolling over to lay against her dear Ivy.

She almost wished she had a smaller bed. This was going to be quite a balancing act otherwise.

She was going to show him the sights and sounds of Gotham tonight, and she hoped that everyone would be on the same page. Or they'd fall before they even began.

She kissed Ivy's cheek before closing her eyes into a dreamless sleep.

Minutes later, Ivy slowly blinked awake, feeling a lingering tickle against her cheek. She glanced to her left and saw her blond-haired lover close to her, her head nestled near her shoulder.

Pamela smiled the softest of smiles, and kissed her forehead. 'Goodnight, love,' she mouthed to herself, before drifting back to sleep.

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Harry watched with fascination as Harleen dipped half of her head in the bowl of red ink, her half-nude body stretching wonderfully. "You have to do that every time?"

"Uhuh," she confirmed, not breaking stride as she grabbed her can of spray. She slipped on a dirty glove to section off the other half of her hair, and sprayed generously on the red side to get the roots of her hair splashed with color. She placed the can down, and grabbed another glove for her bare hand to play with her soaked red hair, separating the strands to make sure there were no blonde strands left. She checked the mirror. "It dries quick, and it's waterproof, so it's perfect," she beamed, moving the bowl to the side and grabbing a pre-filled bowl of green solution.

He glanced over at Ivy, who was currently adjusting her leaf and vine leotard-like outfit, showing a less-than-modest, and especially eye-catching amount of cleavage. "That's one way of distracting an opponent."

She looked over to him and grinned. "Sometimes - when Harley's not just as distracted, it's useless."

"Not my fault," she muttered over the spray, expertly shielding her eyes from the green paint. "Take it as a compliment. Harry will be just as distracted - trust me."

Harry shrugged. "I can multi-task. I can try, anyways."

"And that's all we can do," Harleen sighed listlessly. Pamela rolled her eyes and slipped into her green, elfish slippers.

"We plan on running into a few people tonight," she reminded them, "so just don't be too distracted."

"No promises," Harry promised.

"I'll keep him in line," the now green/redhead said with a grin truly worthy of Harley Quinn, delicately applying her lipstick.

"Green, today?" Harry asked, seeing the color.

She hummed and popped her lips, before sending a kiss at him. "Yep. I like to alternate. Red, Green and Black. Ivy, too."

"Any significance to the three colors? There seems to be a theme."

Ivy straightened her hair with her fingers, fanning it around her shoulders beautifully. After flipping her hair once more, she responded. "Green is a given, and red is Harley's favorite color. Everything goes great with black."

"What's your favorite color?" Harley wondered, grabbing two sets of rubber bands from a dresser seemingly dedicated to her chosen outfit. "I'd have to use it for the suit design."

"If I'm part of the team, I suppose green and black."

Harleen nodded, parting her hair directly down the middle, between the colors. "Okay. I can work with that. You aren't allergic to spandex, are you?"

Harry wasn't sure whether to answer her. "That depends on how much spandex you plan on using."

She shrugged, her hair now in her trademark pigtails. "Not too much... just enough to show off your assets."

"I don't think I'd get the same results as Ivy," Harry pointed out, and the green-skinned beauty stuck out her tongue at the both of them in response.

"We'll worry about it when we're actually committing a crime. For now, this is just a run through of the city. You'll need to know what you're up against, and we need to see what you can do. If we're unlucky, we'll run into Night Terror."

"Night Terror? The guy you were talking about earlier?"

"Yup," The blue-eyed girl confirmed, slinking into her red and green ensemble. "He goes by a lot of names, but this week is Night Terror, word on the street. The news is trying to hype up 'Bat Man', but it's kinda silly."

"Batman?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that name already taken?"

They looked at him weirdly. "Who would have the opportunity to take that name, or want it?" Ivy questioned, confused. "You've heard that name before?"

"My cousin reads a lot of comics," he explained, "and while he never let me read them, I vaguely remember a Man with a half-mask, pointed ears, a cape, and underwear outside his body."

They continued to look at him strangely.

"So the guy's... a legend where you're from?" Harleen asked. "He has a freaking comic book now?"

"He could be taking from the comic book," Harry shrugged. "But I remember that the comic was made in Nineteen eighty-seven."

No one moved. No one breathed. Harley's hand stopped halfway up her sleeve, and Ivy's lipstick dropped from her limp fingers. Harry twitched as the tube loudly clanged against the floor.

"Er..." he started uncomfortably. "I suppose if either of you don't mind telling me the date?"

Harley hesitated before she spoke. "It's June nineteenth... nineteen seventy-four."

They could both see Harry's jaw drop a centimeter or two at the news. "What day is it in your... dimension?" If he had come from a completely different year, then Ivy didn't know what else to call it.

"Nineteen ninety-five," Harry muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. "It was June eighteenth when I left."

"So it's been exactly twenty-one years," Harley noted disbelievingly. "And you can still keep in contact with your girls as you left them..."

Everyone took a moment to absorb that information. The complexity of inter-dimensional space and time travel was such a marvel in itself, and what was only a possibility in the realm of science-fiction, to now become completely and totally non-fiction to them, was... a hard pill to swallow, to say the least.

"That's kind of a bitch," Harley said weakly, trying to get the mood back up. Luckily, Harry let out a surprised chuckle, and she felt a bit of pride.

They entered a much more comfortable silence. Harry took the moment to cast a subtle cleaning charm on himself. He hadn't really changed his clothes since yesterday morning, and he didn't pack anything for his impromptu and unexpected vacation, so he really didn't have anything else. He had banished them once, but he could easily recall them - something he was eternally grateful for when he banished his partners' clothing in a moment of impatience.

After looking over his battle-weary dress shirt once more, he ultimately decided to shed the shirt altogether. Only his white, almost pristine t-shirt remained.

"Well," Harry cleared his throat. "Are we ready to go?"

"Hold on," Ivy cocked her head to the side, "did you read any of the comics?"

Harry shook his head, and wordlessly conjured a red beanbag behind him. He fell onto the plush chair, hard. "What's the drinking age here?"

Harley and Ivy glanced at each other. "Do you really think that'd be a good idea?" Harley asked him delicately.

"No," he mumbled, "but I'd like to keep my options open. I'd be surprised if Rosmerta even has a bar right now. Dumbledore is probably still there, though. And his brother, now that I think about it." He glanced over at Harley. "Think you can put up with me for a bit longer while I try to figure things out?"

She pulled her other arm through the top half of her suit. "Depends on if you can keep up," she smiled.

"Don't sound too disappointed," Pamela chastised him as she sauntered to Harley, adding a bit of sway to her hips as she passed by him, his head at waist level. "You're only with two incredibly beautiful women while you pass the time, here."

"It's not the staying here I'm worried about," Harry dryly commented. "It's the reaction I'll get when I go back."

Pamela slipped the zipper up to the back of her neck, before fastening the seamless clasp that hid the zipper. She kissed the nape of Harley's neck and wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind. She looked at Harry over her girlfriend's shoulder, blowing the green pigtail partially out of the way. "I've seen men do worse to get out of a relationship."

Harry snorted in laughter, while Harley slipped on her fingerless gloves. "You've got a plan, Pammy?"

She swiveled her head negatively, her chin still on Harley's shoulder. "It's just a night out. We wait for the welcoming committee, you show off a bit," she stared pointedly at him, "and my vines will wrap around their legs and distract them long enough to get away. If it gets too hectic, you could pop us out of there?" She questioned him.

Harry nodded, thinking furiously. "If we want to make a statement," he slowly stressed, "We're going to have to make it loud. We make a display, sure, but we make it look like a show."

"What did you have in mind?" Harley asked curiously, leaning into Ivy's touch.

"A new change of clothes, for one." He patted his cargo pants, the dark green material frayed slightly. "Not the best wardrobe to make a first impression."

"Want to lift some bargain clothes on the way to the plaza?" Ivy raised an eyebrow. She didn't want to admit it, but they made a beautiful team, her and Harley. His clothes made him seem a bit out of place. Anything in pristine condition would do him wonders.

"Maybe on the way back. I'd rather you guys pick my clothes. You should have a pretty close guess as to what I can fit in."

"You don't want to model for us?" Harley pouted, and Pamela felt a twinge of disappointment. She wasn't going to lie to herself - he looked good, if a bit on the skinny side.

The ebony-haired teen grinned at the cute couple. "After the show I just got, I don't think I can deny you. Maybe later tonight, or in the morning, though. Ivy, do you have a few extra vials I could borrow?"

She made a humming sound. "What do you have in mind, exactly?"

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Gotham was a cesspool of thieves and murderers. Irredeemable, criminal scum plagued the populated city like locusts, feeding off the weak and defenseless. Streetwalkers stepped out of police cars, and back under the broken lamppost to continue advertising their flesh well into the morning, disgruntled at their pre-arranged discount with the men of the law who turned the other cheek. Weak, troubled men slapped at their arms, their skin burning, their eyes red, their lust for the fix only temporarily sated.

At the right time, usually nightfall, you could almost see the city sink into the darkest pits of hell, and the most disgusting sights could be witnessed - if you dared not lock your home, lie down, and hope you could still draw breath by the sun's wake.

Or, best case scenario, get the hell out of Gotham.

At least, that's how it was.

The Dark Knight crouched in the crevice of the shadows the tops of the buildings provided him, his breath steady, his posture relaxed, his cape flowing smoothly in the breeze behind him.

Gotham was now a peaceful city. A safe city.

The Batman's city.

"Any available patrol units; we have a sighting on the duo known as the Femme Fatale. I repeat; Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn have been spotted in the Bowery, near the Jezebel Plaza. There is an unknown with them, and he seems to be unharmed and willing. As always, consider them armed and dangerous. Do not approach."

The Dark Knight pondered the words on the scanner. Harley Quinn had gone solo yesterday, and had successfully robbed a jewelry shop. Bruce Wayne, unfortunately, was in a WayneTech meeting, and by the time he could don the cape and cowl, they had lost her.

Gotham police wanted nothing to do with him - Commissioner Loeb making it clear by titling him Public Enemy #1 - so he wasn't getting any information from them. What with Gordon and Essen doing everything they could to capture him, he had to distance himself from crime scenes, and he couldn't question Mrs. Hepplewhite, the owner, about the security.

Had he been there, he probably wouldn't have lost her trail. She and Ivy made a discouragingly great team. When one was captured, the other served as a distraction, and a heavy one at that. Ivy had nature itself, and Harley had a bazooka, and impeccable aim. She had also proved to be an accomplished escape artist, moments after he managed to get handcuffs on her for the first and only time.

Together, they had destroyed two Batmobiles so far. And one Batwing.

So in his eyes, they were his main focus, and the biggest problem. And, if what the Lieutenant had mentioned in the briefing that morning in the bugged conference room was true, Harley Quinn was getting better.

It didn't worry him that Harley had managed to escape them.

What worried him was how quietly she broke in this time.

Subtlety and Harley Quinn didn't go together. In fact, you could say they were archrivals. She had gotten into the store completely undetected, and only when she was seen breaking out did the off-duty officer call the police.

At first, he didn't know what to take of that news. She was alone, and trying something new. Generally, that meant that she was trying to break out on her own, or Ivy couldn't be with her for some reason. Both were usually good. And now, as the announcement was broadcast through the scanner, his hopes were dashed.

He set his shoulders. He didn't expect this to be easy. He never did.

With barely a whisper, he pushed into the night, towards the Bowery.

That other presence was disconcerting, but nothing to be concerned about. Pamela hit gold when she formed an alliance with Harley; to find someone just as good to cause havoc with would be near inconceivable. Just in case, he would make sure their guest was there of his own volition.

Then he would take them all down. He was sick of playing cat and mouse.

And if he let the most elusive team in Gotham grow, then he very well could one day be the mouse.

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"You have fans," Harry noted, staring around at the bright lights, unflinching.

"You can't get around in this city anymore." Harley pouted cutely, and Poison Ivy smiled at the display.

"Seems to be more than usual, though," she muttered, her eyes curious.

They were surrounded in a circle. They had walked around the Jezebel for about fifteen minutes. Two minutes in, someone finally had the guts to call the police. The three decided to situate themselves in the middle of the plaza, standing in a small circle, and waited for all four intersections to crowd themselves with police cars.

So far, they were ignoring the mass of men and women in blue, only conversing with each other, despite the commands of the officers to get on their knees. Harry put up a shield around them, in case there was a trigger-happy officer in the crowd.

No one had dared to approach them. Not yet.

"Kinda makes me proud; that we can bring this much fear. A little flatterin'."

"So what did you do to earn this kind of recognition?"

Ivy shrugged. "I believe this is the first time we've really been out in the open. I've attacked some places of interest, such as the Mayor's house. I occasionally tried to bring the entire population's men under my control and have them turn on each other. I've had human-sized Venus flytraps on the corner of every street, shooting poisonous spores to anyone who moved towards it. That was the first and last time I was captured. The stupid vigilante attacked my plants until I was weak enough to be brought down."

"Since then," Harley continued for her, "We've been stealing some chemicals from botanical gardens. Occasionally, Ivy's had to 'haunt' a few forests that were being considered for chopping down. Most of our time's been building the wonderful greenhouse we now live in, and getting the materials smuggled to just outside of Gotham with no one noticing, not even with Bat surveillance, is pretty hard work. Upstanding citizen Harleen helped, but only after Ivy and Harley robbed a few banks for her to buy anything. We've had to do double heists every now and then as a distraction. No one takes precedence over the hardware store's missing tools when the Art Museum is missing some prized works. There was also that one time we rearranged the face of the Cyrus Pinkney Statue, and blew up a bridge. Other than that... I can't think of anything else. Ivy?"

"We also may have kidnapped the former Mayor's wife, so he could pass an environmental bill."

"As it turns out, trophy wives aren't the best bait."

"I think she was perfectly willing to stay with us, though. She gave Harley her number."

"God, that was embarrassing. Just seeing how plastic and fake she looked. It was unnatural. When she licked her lips at me, her tongue wiped years off her upper lip."

"The entire experience didn't really count in

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THE END