DISCLAIMER: This is an alt fanfic based on the television show/and comic characters in Birds of Prey. It's rated R for sex, violence and language; including a strange but not particularly violent occasion of non-consensual sex, as well as heterosexual sex.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Doppelganger
By ficmail2004

Part Six:

As the people continued filing out of the room, the Joker stepped on stage with them all, walking in front of the table where Helena and Barbara were still sitting with Dinah and Quinn standing to their sides.

They could here the sound of more than one approaching helicopter, some scattered gunfire, then some shouts and screaming. The gunfire stopped, but the rotors of the helicopters sounded ominously close.

"Well. Well. What an evening." The Joker brandished his gun like a baton a bit as he spoke, all the while holding it so casually that it looked like he could drop it.

"You know, there are few things more satisfying than finishing a job you've been waiting years and years and years to finish."

All eyes in the room were on his gun. Dinah was ready to move as soon as the last guest left—no jumping the gun, so to speak, before the last hostage and henchman was out.

The Joker turned his head away to watch the people's departure, but they could hear him saying, "I would say that I wish things were different—but that would be a lie." He stiffened his wrist and shot Quinn in the chest, then immediately fired another shot.

After the first shot, time seemed to stop—for all of the women. They all looked at Quinn. Registering that she'd been shot and taking in the disbelief at that fact seemed to take forever, though it might have only taken a second, maybe a fraction more.

Quinn felt like a cinder block had been thrown at her chest. But, in all truth, she'd expected this. She didn't bother with her gun. She'd watched his wrist and jumped forward into the shot when she might have been rocked backward. Forward crossways over Barbara and her chair, knowing that the second bullet would…there—Quinn felt the bullet meant for Barbara instantly scream into her back and then she heard scuffling, shouting and running—but as if they were at a great distance and under water.

Dinah had ripped the gun out of the Joker's hand with her mind as soon as he got the second shot off and tore after him. Helena was transfixed by the sight of Barbara holding a bleeding Quinn, with blood soaking her shirt.

At Helena's approach, Barbara said, "It's her blood—not mine. Help Dinah."

Helena rocked on her heels once and flew down the hall where Dinah had followed the Joker.

As Barbara looked down on Quinn, she called for an ambulance with her comm. She tried to apply pressure to the smaller woman's chest and back but was afraid to move her at all until they had a backboard. Quinn rolled her head slightly and said, with a gurgling laugh, "This sucks."

Barbara smiled thinly despite herself. "I know—just hold on and we'll get you to the hospital."

"I made a backup of everything he has on computer." Quinn concentrated with ferocity, needing to get her words out before she lost consciousness, which she could feel coming quickly.

"You'll be able to shut down everything. Accounts, money…people…everything. Mailed it to you…yesterday."

"Shhhh. We'll do that—just relax and stay with me."

Helena ran down hall at warp speed only to skid to a stop at the sight of what confronted her as she entered an empty foyer. The Joker was pressed against the wall with his arms outstretched. It had to be Dinah's mind that was holding him that way because nothing physical was doing it. Dinah had both hands around his throat and seemed to be choking him very slowly.

Helena took in—in an instant—that Dinah was making it last because she was enjoying it. As she watched the veins in the Joker's throat and face fill and throb, she felt a surge of undiluted elation. All she had to do was stand and watch. The bastard would be dead—her fondest dream come true. Watch for half a minute and the Joker would be dead. And she would have seen him die. And she didn't even have to do a thing. She wouldn't have broken any of Barbara and Bruce's precious rules. Dinah would the responsible one.

So easy. All she had to do was wait—just turn away and it'd be done. Done. Dead. And Dinah would—

She felt a bomb go off in her head, growled out a "SONOFABITCH!" and launched herself at Dinah.

"D—stop it! Dinah—Dinah! Let him go!

"Fuck that! He's dying!"

"No! Dinah! Let him go! We don't kill people!"

She grabbed the girl's shoulders but she was no match against the sheer psychic power Dinah was using to hold the Joker fast to the wall.

A thousand ideas went through Helena's mind in two seconds. She took a deep breath and forced her feral side down…down…down…down. She felt her eyes changing and she gently touched Dinah, "D—let him go."

She knew Dinah could feel her. The change of tension in the steel of her back was almost imperceptible but she could feel it.

"Dinah, sweetheart, let him go."

At that moment, although the Joker's vision was tunneling, then reopening as Dinah squeezed then released the pressure on his trachea, the Joker looked into the eyes of the woman behind Dinah. The blue, blue eyes behind Dinah. Such familiar blue eyes.

Dinah and Helena were stunned to hear him suddenly hiss out a small laugh that sounded like a soda can opening.

He'd been hoodwinked! Look at those eyes!! The woman behind Dinah was Bruce's daughter!  They'd sent some sort of doppelganger into his lair. He wheezed out another laugh—because that was, objectively speaking, pretty damned funny. 

"D-let him go."

Dinah's shoulders relaxed and then, though she hated herself for it, she began to cry. "He deserves it—look what he's—"

"Dinah. Let him go."

Dinah hesitated, then opened her hands. The Joker collapsed on the floor, barely conscious. Helena felt her hands shaking as she dragged his tie from around his neck and tied his hands behind his back.

"I'll stay with him—go check on Quinn."

Dinah half staggered as she shook her head, as if trying to throw some malign enchantment from her body. Then, she flew down the hall.

Helena looked at her prisoner, Dinah's handprints red against his supernatural white skin. She grabbed him by his tuxedo shirt and hauled him off the ground with one hand, the other cocked to punch him into the next universe. She looked down at him with pure loathing and he looked up her and steeled himself, despite his anguished gasping, for what he saw was coming.

Helena watched him heaving for a second. From close up, he was just as larger- than-life horrific as she'd always imagined. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the tiny capillaries that had burst while he was being choked, the throbbing of the veins in his face and neck, his utter primal relief at having oxygen.

He was just a human being. Entirely evil. But a human being. She dropped him and pushed herself away from him, shuddering with hatred and pity.

"You're Bruce Wayne's daughter, aren't you?" His voice was thin and dry.

"Uh huh."

"That's a good one."

"We thought so."

He looked at her for a few seconds, then said, "Thank you for saving my life."

Helena took a deep breath. Her reply was, "You murdered my mother."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Gosh. That's certainly…awkward. I guess I should say thanks a lot, then."

Helena was horrified to find herself barking out a laugh, then made a lightning movement to punch him in the face, the speed of which made The Joker shrink with fear. She stopped a fraction of an inch from his wincing face and gently tapped him on the cheek, "You're welcome, pussy-boy."

The police and soldiers suppressed their gunfire as the hostages emerged, waiting for signs of their captors. The Joker's pilot had waited past the time for the rendezvous but when he saw the two Blackhawk helicopters that had scrambled, he took off with them screaming after him.

"All clear."

The police heard a woman's voice on their radios and sent three teams into the building at once. They found Barbara and Dinah holding Quinn, with Helena holding the Joker by the scruff of his tuxedo. The women stared in wonder at their bright green compatriots.

As they fanned out into position, one of the policeman asked, "Where are Joker's men?"

"Where's the ambulance?" Helena answered.

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

"They're OUTSIDE, jackass. Where's the ambulance?

"There's nobody but hostages out there."

The Joker erupted into another soda can laugh, which was not missed by the team leader. He looked at the room—at the exit.  "Aw FUCK."

The ambulance was there. Everyone from the Clocktower, including Alfred, met at the hospital and waited in the Emergency Room waiting room. For hours. And hours.

Dinah pacing up and down the entire time, despite anyone and everyone's attempt to comfort her.

Finally, a young doctor came pushed his way through the doors and walked toward them, his scrub hat almost matching his green eyes.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Tobias. I was told you're waiting for Dr. Quinzel."

"Yes. We are."

The doctor blinked twice at the sight of Bruce Wayne, then continued, seriously but kindly.

"We just took Dr. Quinzel to Intensive ICU from surgery." He paused. "I'm going to be very frank with you. Although I never tell a family or friends that there is no hope, I can tell you that it is very, very rare for a person as grievously injured as she is to live."

"What are her injuries?" Barbara's voice was very quiet.

"She has a broken sternum and six broken ribs, plus a collapsed lung. Unfortunately, the shot from the front drove shards of bone into her liver and the shot from the back not only destroyed her spleen but also gravely damaged her liver, almost cutting it in half. We needed 70 units of blood to get through the surgery. The bleeding has stopped for now but we're going to have to watch her extremely closely for renewed bleeding, then infection."

"Is there any good news?" Barbara was, again, the one to speak.

"The only good news is that she lived through the surgery. Most people wouldn't have."

He paused for another second before adding, "I'd like you to understand that the only quick resolution to this will be death. Life will mean a daily struggle for potentially months. Now—if you'd like to stay, IICU has a waiting room of its own on the third floor. No visitors for now. We'll be keeping her anesthetized for some time—we don't want her to move and her injuries are very painful ones."

"Thank you doctor." Bruce shook the doctor's hand. 

Dr. Tobias disappeared and all six of them stood quietly for a few seconds, taking it all in. Helena turned to Dinah and saw big tears running down her cheeks, the younger girl's face stony and bleak.

Helena was trying to think of some—any—words of comfort when Dinah's fist hit her in the face, a brutal blow that rocked her backward. Dinah launched herself onto Helena, knocked her on the ground and started pummeling her. Everyone jumped at once to drag Dinah off a dumbstruck Helena, who was not fighting back.

Dinah's voice was ferocious. "GODDAMN YOU, YOU BITCH. I HATE YOU!! YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME KILL HIM WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE. I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

Dick was the one who actually succeeded in prying and lifting a struggling Dinah into the air. As Bruce and Barbara tried to assist with her, Dinah suddenly went limp in Dick's arms and said, "Okay, okay. You can fucking let me go."

Bruce and Barbara were between Dinah and Helena. Before anyone could speak, she merely spat in Helena's general direction. "I will never forgive you as long as I live."

She stormed out of the hospital into the parking lot.

Alfred looked at Bruce.

Bruce looked at Barbara.

Dick looked at all of them.

They all turned toward Helena, who was still sitting on the floor, elbows on her knees, holding her hair pushed back and her head in her hands. The side of her face was already swelling and beginning to discolor and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She felt their gaze and but did not look at them. She said, almost whispering, "Don't touch me; don't talk to me."

So Barbara, Bruce, Dick and Alfred stood silently, looking through the tall glass walls into the night. In the distance, illuminated in the harsh glare of the parking lot lights, they watched Dinah smoking a cigarette, her back to the hospital.

It had begun to rain.

Actually, when Quinn had arrived in the Emergency Room, she'd luckily been lucid for some time. She knew, right away, that things were desperately wrong with her lungs and abdomen. She'd lied and told them she could keep breathing and that everything was alright, although she knew one lung must have collapsed. Because she was still able to tell them she could breathe, they stabilized her with fluids and did everything but give her a chest tube for her pneumo/hemothorax and intubate her before they took her to CT, for her CAT scan.  

They did their work in a very orderly fashion; probably very few minutes were involved.

However: she knew she was hurting and knew where.

"Hellooo? How much longer?"

"Just a couple of minutes, Dr. Quinzel."

"I know but I'm in a lot of pain here. Seriously—and I can tell you exactly where."

"Just a few more minutes, Dr. Quinzel."

She waited for a couple of minutes and tilted her head at the top of the CT circle.

"Hellooo? I'm really uncomfortable here."

"You'll be out in a couple of minutes."

She could tell they were only now moving from her skull to her chest. She waited two more minutes before losing it. "Goddamnit, I need surgery—now—get me out of here."

She thought if she started pounding on the inside of their expensive machine, they'd relent.  She pounded her fists on the sides of their scan.

She was right. They immediately took her out of CT. Her surgery was begun as exploratory.

The Next Morning

Alfred had hoped that he would never have this smell permeate his life again. The smell of this hospital, this floor, this situation. The time he spent here with Barbara and the young Helena was as miserable a time as he could remember. Well, there was also taking care of Bruce after his orphaning. He wondered why this didn't seem normal to him by now, after all these years. This tempestuous life that courted tragedy and, because human evil was never vanquished, a constant sense of futility and sadness. One could only tempt fate so long before, without the slightest effort, it brought all of your triumphs to a bloody, regrettable end.

He'd considered retiring more than once but had tried to think of his work as his contribution to protecting the innocent. He sighed, deeply. Perhaps that really was all an illusion.

The elevator bumped to a stop and the doors opened. He could navigate these halls with his eyes closed and knew intimately every picture he saw, although the carpet had been changed.

As he rounded the corner, he stopped short. Here was another thing that had changed. On a couch near the end of the waiting room, Bruce was sitting on one side, Dick on the other. Helena had balled up Bruce's coat and was sleeping with her head in her father's lap, her feet on her brother's lap. They were all asleep. Although Alfred walked quietly toward them, Bruce's eyes snapped open immediately. Dick continued to sleep with his neck in a position that might require traction when he woke and Helena was as unaware as a piece of timber. This amused Alfred because he knew both Dick and Helena would have been up like a shot if Bruce had not been there. But they slept—because they trusted him to take care of them—which, of course, he always did. No one ever stayed awake for Bruce. Except for his butler.

Which is why he couldn't retire.

Barbara and Dinah were the first to be admitted back into the Intensive ICU. Visitors were allowed every four hours for fifteen minutes. As they walked down the hall toward the unit, Barbara said quietly, "Dinah, this is a telemetry unit—she'll be connected to machines reading her temperature, heart rhythm, pulse rate, blood pressure and blood oxygen. She'll also be on a ventilator which will be breathing for her. It's a bit overwhelming to see someone like that for the first time but it's all necessary to keep track of her condition. The patients in IICU are the sickest of the sick—they have nurses with them 24 hours a day."

"Were you here?"

"For seventeen days, before I was stepped down to ICU."

Dinah nodded but didn't comment and they arrived at the room. The room had six patients and, as Barbara had said; six nurses were hovering over their individual charges.

As they approached the farthest bed on the left, Dinah began to feel light-headed. There was almost no Quinn to be seen—her hair, maybe, her arms. But everything seemed to be connected to something.

The nurse, a woman with long grey hair, a pleasant smile and a soft Southern accent, looked up and said, "I'm Betty. Are you friends or family?"

"I'm Barbara and this is Dinah. We're good friends of Dr. Quinzel."

Betty took a long look at Barbara, then a second look at Dinah and said, "Here, darlin' why don't you sit in this chair. You're looking a little pale."

I'll say, Barbara thought, as she shot a glance at the girl. Her lips were white. The nurse had probably saved her from fainting.

"Put your head between your knees if you feel faint. It's perfectly natural to be upset when you see someone you care about so sick."

Dinah gave her a tepid smile.

"And feel free to talk to her—she's under anesthesia but lots of people remember their loved ones' presence after they come out from under. "

Dinah looked at the vast amount of tubing and asked, "How's she doing?"

"Just fine." The nurse gave Quinn a gentle pat on the leg, "She's tiny but tough. When she was in the CT scan she wanted to get out—but they wouldn't let her. So she was more than a bit feisty."

Dinah smiled, bleakly, "What's all that blood?" The girl pointed to tubes in Quinn's chest and abdomen.

"She had thoracic and abdominal surgery and those are just the drainage tubes for those areas."

At the word `drainage', Dinah put her head between her knees. Betty looked at Barbara and they smiled at each other.

Barbara rolled forward, put a gentle hand on Quinn's blanketed leg and looked at the telemetry, "Not bad. So far, so good, huh?"

"Exactly," Betty replied. The look they exchanged let them both know that they understood how tenuous things were.

Dinah rose in her seat and there were tears in her eyes, "Is she hurting?"

"No, honey."

"How can you tell if she's knocked out?"

"Blood pressure, heart rate. Believe me—we're all going to keep this gal comfortable. It's important to keep her pain-free so she can get better. Come on over here and talk to her for a minute."

Dinah stood and stepped the few feet to Quinn's bedside. "Can I touch her?"

"Absolutely."

Dinah put a hand on Quinn's forehead, gently stroked the woman's hair. She swallowed hard. Everything smelled like…tape and medicine and sterility.

"Hey, Quinn? You're not going anywhere, you hear me? You owe me a vacation after these past few months. So…you gotta keep fighting, okay? `Cause I'm waiting for you to get better—and so is Barbara, and Bruce and Dick and…Helena. We all can't wait to bust you out of this joint."

Dinah bent forward and kissed her on the forehead.

Barbara rolled closer and said, "Quinn, this is Barbara. I'm going to tell the truth. You're very sick. Very, very sick. Things don't look good for you—but you can beat this—you can live—but you have to fight. You must fight. There are people here who love you and depend upon you. Don't forget that."

Dinah and Betty looked at Barbara for a few seconds, then Betty offered, "Dr. Quinzel—you need to listen to Barbara Gordon, because when I had her here all those years ago, you couldn't see her chance of living with a microscope or telescope. And look at her now. She knows what she's talking about."

For the first time in months, Dinah and Barbara smiled unpremeditated smiles.

"How's she look?" Helena asked Barbara, since Dinah wouldn't meet her eyes and, indeed, stood off to one side of everyone.

"It's a cliché but she's doing as well as can be expected. Can't hope for better than that."

Helena nodded. "You know, if we're going to stay, we may as well start shifts. I can take the next four hours if you guys want to go home."

"I'm staying," Dinah said belligerently.

"Miss Dinah?" Alfred paused to make sure she was paying attention. "Helena and I have an inordinate amount of experience with a loved one in this very hospital. We simply must take shifts if we want to be available if Quinn needs us. All things being equal, no one will be able to see her for another four hours. Why not go home, get some sleep and come back and relieve us?"

Barbara wheeled toward the girl and took her hand. "I could use a shower and a nap. How about you?"

Dinah eyes were intense as she answered Alfred, "You'll call if anything's wrong."

Alfred nodded. "You'll be the first to hear anything."

"Can I join you?" Dick asked.

"Of course," Barbara gave him the briefest pat as they headed toward the elevators.

As they headed toward the Humvee, Dinah said, "I'll walk, guys—I've got some thinking to do."

"Dinah—you should come—"

"Barbara. I love you. I'll be in the Clocktower after a while." As she said this, she reached for a pack of cigarettes.

"Dinah, you shouldn't be smoking."

"Yeah and I shouldn't be robbing banks either. Que sera sera and all that shit, right?" The look in the young girl's eyes made Barbara and Dick think twice about asking her again to join them.

"Go on!" Dinah said. "I'll be there soon."

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dinah pulled on her cigarette. The one thing that was great about being a criminal was that you always kept cigarettes and cash readily available.

After a brief trek of about a mile, Dinah had found the salon she wanted and, after 45 minutes, looked at herself in the mirror as a blonde again. She wanted nothing to do with Helena now—and she might as well get a fresh start on her life.

Her life.

She wondered what her life would be like now? Going back to the Clocktower, starting sweeps, going back to fucking high school and acting as if nothing had changed.

When everything had. She didn't know how to even start making sense of what she was feeling. There was the overwhelming horror of knowing that Quinn was so ill, mingled with the horror of her old regular life, which no longer (in her mind) seemed to suit her.

Who was she? She didn't know.

Bruce, Alfred and Helena took the couch after the others had left.

"Hey—Alfred, Bruce—want some of that relatively shitty coffee from the cafeteria? I want some."

They both assented and Helena disappeared into the elevator.

Bruce kept his gaze on the carpet, "Well, Alfred, what do you think?"

"I think we have a former enemy potentially having given her life to save Barbara. Which is strange, to say the least." Alfred paused for emphasis, "But true, nonetheless."

Bruce only blinked. "Yes. I'll have to think about that."

"I hope that Miss Dinah will find a way to get past her animosity toward Miss Helena."

"I do, too. At least she doesn't seem as bullheaded as Helena." They glanced at each other.

"But we won't say anything to Helena about that, I presume."

"No."

The coffee was at least as half as shitty as Helena had promised.

Barbara and Dick had been surprised, but delighted by Dinah's blonde appearance in the Clocktower. She'd spoken briefly before excusing herself for a shower and nap.

After her shower, her eye makeup was smeared over her cheeks. She used cotton balls to remove it, remove it, remove it, down to her pale blonde eyelashes.

Until she looked like what she was—a blonde teenaged kid. She sat down on the floor of the bathroom, naked, forlorn and cried.

Two Weeks Later

They had finally extubated Quinn and she was breathing for herself and resting peacefully, without having gained consciousness.

Dinah had still not really given Helena the time of day and everyone else's agenda was based on the fact that the two women could not be placed together, in a waiting room or on a sweep.

It was Helena who first heard Quinn's voice. "Hello?"

Helena jumped from her chair, "Quinn?"

"What's—where?"

"You're in the hospital. Everybody's okay. The Joker's in prison—and we're all out, because of you. Your data gave us everything. We've shut him down so totally it would take him ten years to get back to where he was."

"He's alive?"

"Of course."

Quinn drew a ragged breath of relief over that. "I don't know why I don't want him dead. Why do women want what they do?"

Helena chuckled and asked, "Doesn't matter. You're getting out of here in a few weeks, baby."

There was a sudden non-sequitar, "Is Dinah back in school?"

"No…not yet."

"I need to speak to her then."

Helena paused. "I'll let Barbara know. Dinah doesn't actually talk to me anymore."

"Why not?'

"Uh…sorry…but because I wouldn't let her kill the Joker."

The Joker's soda can opening laugh was matched by Quinn's slight chuckle. "Send her in."

Helena went outside the room and pointed Dinah toward the room, "She's awake."

Dinah hurried into the room and took Quinn's hand. Quinn gazed at her young friend's short blonde locks, "Look at your pretty hair."

Her voice sounded so dry that Dinah moved toward the little ice container at her bedside and gave her some water.

There were tears in Dinah's eyes. "How you feeling?"

"I've been better," Quinn rasped. "What's this about your not talking to Helena?"

"She shouldn't have told you."

"She should have if it got you into this room to see me."

"It's nothing—I'm just mad about the Joker, is all."

"You wanted to kill him."

Dinah hesitated, then offered quietly, "Yes."

Quinn lifted herself a little. From her movement, Dinah understood that she should raise Quinn's pillows. She pulled Quinn up and arranged the pillows that she could be more upright.

"You wanted to kill him, even though that was the only condition for our plan—that you not kill him?"

Suddenly Dinah felt very cold and sad. She didn't answer.

"Dinah?"

"Yes, I did," she blurted out, "how can you not after all the things he's done to—"

"I didn't want him dead. I told you that." Quinn said, with the most force she'd been able to offer.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? I'm glad Helena was there to stop you," she wheezed out with difficulty.

"Yeah...I suppose."

"Suppose? You should know so, Dinah. I don't know what to say."

"Quinn, I'm sorry—you know—"

Dinah looked up to see Quinn's face sunken back into incomprehension.

She was unconscious again.

One week later

Doctors were beginning to suggest that Quinn might actually recover, something they'd not even believed themselves might be possible.

She was making her way up to solid food. Although she was nearly a skeleton, from her long deprivation, she was a very feisty skeleton.

She played UNO with Helena and Barbara and usually beat them. She flummoxed the psychologists who came to find whether she was adjusting to her life-changing injury.

Barbara could tell that she had little patience for those who wanted to psychoanalyze her with the average formulas. God help them.

One day, when Dinah was alone with Quinn, she stammered before asking a question. "Do you think you could give me an answer to something about the Joker?"

"I'll try."

"He shot you—then tried to shoot Barbara. But he knew I could stop him, absolutely, at any time—why didn't he go for me first?"

Quinn's tiny gaunt face was bright as she tilted her head to one side and rasped a small chuckle. "Isn't that obvious?"

The look in Quinn's eyes made Dinah feel uneasy.

Dinah hesitated, then offered, "So you're saying it's obvious?"

"Uh huh. Use your noodle."

Although Dinah was perfectly willing to use her noodle, that organ was resisting her.

Quinn smirked a bit at the girl's hesitation. "Maybe you should ask himself yourself."

"Joker?"

"Who else? He could probably tell you a few very interesting things. And why not? I'm sure Jim Gordon could get you closed circuit access—which is the best you should have if you want to kill him."

"Why not tell me yourself?"

"Because it would mean so much more—like a Hallmark card—coming from him."

Quinn had become increasingly and irritatingly Harley-like since regaining consciousness. She was being given her psychotropic medication, although in measurably smaller doses because of her liver damage. Dinah had considered asking whether it might not be enough.

"Why aren't you back at school?"

"Duh. Because you're in the hospital?"

"Doesn't matter—time to get back—you need to get back to your real life."

"That's not my real life."

Quinn reached and patted Dinah's hand, "No. That is your real life. Your life with me was unreal. It was a job. We did it and it's over. Don't make it something it wasn't."

Dinah felt stung by the harsh simplicity of this statement but also unsure if there was merely tough-love motivating it. Despite their touch, Quinn's emotions were behind the lead shield she had so much facility placing between them. She hated when Quinn played psychologist with her. Despite this, when she looked at Quinn's wasted frame, it was difficult to feel anything but pity and concern.

Helena was sitting on the terrace of the Clocktower, watching the traffic and the people beneath her. She realized that she neither knew what or how to feel. Although Quinn was making a miraculous, albeit slow and painful, recovery, Dinah was still avoiding her housemate with a vengeance. When they were in the same room, Dinah was coolly civil and nothing else. Helena didn't have any idea what to do about it and it bothered her more than she would have imagined it could. That she had visited the same treatment upon her father so many years before did nothing to make her feel less hopeless, saddened and angry. Helena had never liked the phrase `payback's hell' when applied to herself. But, then again, who did?

When she thought about that night's event's, of having saved the Joker from Dinah's chokehold, she didn't quite know whether she had betrayed her mother or not. She hoped not. She thought not. Although it shamed her to admit, she thought that she'd grown somewhat beyond her mother's simpler ethical system and into Barbara's and her father's. Was this unfaithful? Was it something that her mother would have scolded her for—for her stupidity? Or was it something that Selena had been reaching out for herself—in choosing Bruce as a mate and in choosing Barbara as her child's guardian? She sensed, rather than heard, Barbara rolling up behind her. The woman positioned herself so that it was easy for Helena to place her arm over her knees. Helena felt, with particular gratitude, the gentle tousling of her hair.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart."

"You think?" Helena wasn't sure.

"Absolutely."

"Easy for you to say."

Barbara tugged at Helena's hair gently. "You think it's easy living with two people who aren't talking?"

Helena reached back with one hand and gave Barbara's hand a squeeze. "I know—I'm sorry. What'd you ever do to deserve us two punks, huh?"

"I ask myself that all the time."

"BABS? HEL?"

The two women turned to see Dick walking toward them, dressed in a dark pin-striped three-piece suit.

"Alfred let me in."

He kissed Barbara on the cheek, gently knocked on Helena's skull with his knuckles.

"What the hell's that you got on, Boy Blunder?"

Dick smiled down at Helena, "Clean up nice, don't I?

There was a time that Helena would have been apoplectic with rage because he was, indeed, devastatingly handsome. But because she loved her brother, sort of, she offered grudgingly, "Yeah. I guess."

"I agree. You do look handsome." Barbara noted that Helena was discomfited by Dick's splendor, and found it both touching and entertaining. "But, seriously, why the suit?"

"Bruce is sending me to a special meeting with the U.S. Marshals."

"About…"

"Top secret."

"Top secret from us?"

"Uh huh."

"Bullshit," Helena explained.

"Well—one part's not so secret. Expedited Witness Protection Program for Quinn. But other things are in the works—and out of town. Very interesting."

"I hate you when you're like this."

Helena could feel Dick's shiny white teeth lighting her face from his toothy grin. "What? Handsome? In on `a secret'? You're such a baby, Hel."

Helena leapt to her feet and Dick skipped back with a laugh. "I'm just teasing you! Damn. Lighten up!"

That he'd jumped back with such alacrity immediately soothed Helena's feelings, and she dropped her shoulders. "I'm a bit touchy these days."

"No shit?" Dick grinned, "But no problem. Like they say, winning the war is one thing; managing the peace is another."

Barbara smiled, "Is that what you're doing, Dick? Managing the peace?"

"Working on it, anyway. I came by to see whether you guys would like to go out to lunch?"

Barbara glanced at Helena, who caught her eye, then replied. "I don't think so…but we'd both like for you to stay for lunch."

As they turned to go inside, Helena looked daggers at Barbara, who uncharacteristically stuck out her tongue.

Helena's eyes tightened but there was humor in them.

One Week Later

The Joker popped into the closed circuit monitor in his usual manner, throwing a leg over the chair and suddenly sitting in front of the camera as if he'd appeared out of air. He was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. He tugged at the collar of it and asked, "Do you think it clashes with my hair too much?"

"Prison orange is the perfect color for you, Bozo."

He cackled softly, "Dinah, dearest! How lovely to see you! How is everyone?"

"Everyone's alive and you're in prison. All's right with the world."

"Oh, dear. One of the big lessons in life, darling. It's bad form to be a pill when you've won the round."

The Joker suddenly threw his head back and cackled immoderately. "What a joke you played on me!"

Dinah smiled, despite herself, "Yep."

"What's your real name?"

"Dinah's enough for you."

"And that rather luscious daughter of Mr. Wayne?"

"Helena."

"My God, you're circumspect when you're angry. And why so angry, my little poppet?"

"Why not?"

"You mean that little shooting thing I did with Harley? Come now—even she expected that. And I bet she doesn't even hold it against me."

The tilt of his head was so like Quinn's when he said this that she smiled again. Bizarre to think the two were so alike.

"No—but she's happy you're here."

"Tsk, tsk. That's the problem with women. If you can't kill them, you shouldn't shoot them."

"You're scum. I hope you know that."

"Oh? Ya think?" His voice was utterly detached. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Dinah was out of her depth with the man before her—but she was willing to risk the engagement. She asked the question that had been haunting her.

"I wanted to ask why you didn't try to immobilize me before shooting Quinn? You knew what I could do to you."

The Joker looked at her for a few seconds and his perma-smile lifted a few centimeters. "Isn't that obvious?"

"That's what Quinn said."

"She's my girl."

"WHY?" Dinah thumped the table in front of her—which did nothing to discomfit the man.

The Joker cackled until Dinah thought he would choke. But, finally he stopped and wiped his eyes. "I did it that way because I thought you loved her more than you hated me. But obviously not. I thought that you'd rush to help her rather than chase me."

Dinah flushed with shame and anger.

"Dinah, sweetheart! Don't be embarrassed. Your hatred is stronger than your compassion. Perfectly normal in a certain kind of person. Wouldn't it be funny if we were more alike than you thought?"

This was the very thought Dinah was keeping from rising in her mind. She slammed the door shut on the idea, sat forward in her chair. "Maybe so. Maybe not. I'm out here and you're in there."

The Joker's eye's brightened, "True. But who's to say for how long?"

They glared at each other and Dinah felt fear fill her even as the Joker's eye's filled with what she'd never seen in them before: hatred. "Next time I'm out, I'll be coming to see you, little girl."

Dinah's hands went cold, but her voice was even, "That right?"

"That's right. So you can go back to…oh, let's say…good old Gotham High and keep that in mind." Dinah's feet went cold.

"And when I do, I will lay waste to everything that you and that Wayne girl own, love or even remotely care about. But take some time and relax—I won't send anyone else for either of you. It's a job I'm going to do personally."

Dinah response sounded like her heart was lodged in her throat, which it was. "I'll be waiting, then."

"Good bluff, Dinah. For your age." He leaned forward and his face nearly filled her screen. "See, they call me the Joker for a reason. I have a sense of humor. Admittedly maybe not the average sense of humor, but generally speaking, I'm really just kidding around."

He slouched back in his chair, eyes lethally serious. "When I get of here, though, I'm not going to be kidding. I rarely take my gloves off, sweetheart, but I'll make an exception for you."

She'd heard enough.

"I suppose that's that, then. Thanks for the head's up."

She almost stood before he replied, "Please do take care, Dinah, dearest. I wouldn't anything to happen to you before we meet again."

Her fear was swallowed by the hatred that buzzed behind her eyes.

"You too, scumbag." She held her throat and looked at his, "I won't make the same mistake twice."

"Say hello to Barbara and Helena for me—and of course, dear Harley."

"Will do and, as for Quinn, I really don't think she's finished with you either." That got his attention. "And I don't mean romance."

Was that sudden tension in the Joker's face? Or fear?

The next day, the hospital bent the rules so that everyone could meet in Quinn's room for a report on Dinah's meeting. Quinn was wearing a bright pair of harlequin patterned pajamas and was acting in a bright, sharp, hostile way that was fully Harley Quinn and suggested she was in intense pain. Except for the part referencing her own conduct, Dinah told them everything about her conversation with the prisoner.

When she finished, Quinn said, "Dinah! You're a prodigy! The only person who wanted to kill me when I was seventeen was our head cheerleader. And with good reason, I might add."

Off the dark looks of everyone, for whom this was no joke, she batted her eyelashes and said merrily, "Remember, laugh and the world laughs with you!

This was not much more helpful. Quinn rolled her eyes, "Oh my God, I can't handle gloom in a semi-recumbent position. Helena, would you please put me in the wheelchair. I'd walk but my pain pill hasn't kicked in yet."

Dinah jumped forward and said, "I'll do it."

Quinn looked up at her without expression, "Are you deaf? I said Helena."

Dinah and Helena blushed to the roots of their hair and there was an awkward silence as they switched places. Helena easily lifted the frail woman out of the bed and couldn't help but remark, "You're as light as a bird."

"I know," Quinn purred, "and you can pick me up anytime."

Barbara ground her teeth.

No one spoke as Helena settled Quinn into the chair and spread a blanket over her legs; but the air was charged with 1000 volts of electricity when Quinn caressed her cheek as she did so. She then winked at Barbara, smirked at Dinah and addressed Bruce, "What can I do for you, Bat-o-Mine?"

It was a wonder that the glares from Barbara, Dinah and Bruce didn't set Quinn's hair on fire. Even Dick was not oblivious to the emotional undercurrent.

The muscles in Bruce's jaw twitched. "What's your opinion? Will the Joker send a person or persons to hurt Dinah?"

Quinn, whose lips were quite pale from pain, nevertheless spoke firmly. "No. If he said it's a personal priority, that's what he means. We've made him angry now—and he so rarely is, believe it or not. Vexed or frustrated, maybe. Almost never angry."

Bruce reiterated, "So it's your opinion that he would have to escape -prison to make this threat imminent?"

"Is deafness spreading in this room? I said yes. Absolutely. 100%. Is that clear enough? I don't happen to have my crayons so I can't spell it out." She paused before adding, "And, of course, the threat would be quite, quite real if he were to escape. He really is an evil genius, you know."

"Yes, we know," Barbara answered a bit too snidely.

Quinn shot back, "Is that wheelchair pinching you, honey? Mine's just fine."

They glared at each other for a beat before Quinn softened, sat back in her chair, looking as weak and desperately ill as she still was. "I'm in a lot of pain. Could we pointlessly go over and over this later?"

Bruce looked into her eyes searchingly, this strange criminal person who had taken a bullet for one of his family. He noted the eyes glassy with pain, the circles under those eyes, her hollow cheekbones, and her body awash in pajamas that were a child's size. "You're right. You're too ill for this. It can wait. Everyone, could I have a moment alone with Quinn?"

Everyone, including Quinn, goggled at him. As the three people who'd been dismissed departed for the waiting room, they couldn't wait to ask each other what was going on.

Bruce took a chair and placed it facing Quinn. "Can I get you anything?"

"A new liver."

He nodded, "You don't need a new one. The one you have is healing."

"And it's taking its sweet time. So! What's up?"

"I want to know something."

"Shoot. Well—actually—don't shoot. Ask away."

"Why are you doing this, Quinn?"

"What? What am I doing?"

"Acting like…well, like—"

She helped him, "Harley Quinn?"

"Exactly."

"Because that's who I am. You should know that. We're old friends." She smiled as she said this, looked down at her knees.

He touched her knee and she looked up into his eyes. She'd never looked into Bruce's eyes. Even unmasked, she'd only seen the stern, judgmental eyes of Batman. These eyes were kind. "Why are you doing this, Quinn?"

She stared at him in wonder. She pursed her mouth and sniffed, sat for a full minute and threw up her hands in surrender.

"Oh alright, if you must know…I'm doing a little covert aversion therapy."

"For Dinah, I assume?"

"Yes. You see, the problem is that our Dinah is a little too fond of me. And I won't deny I'm a little too fond of her. Which is flamingly inappropriate. Beside that—she needs to get back to real life. I don't need to tell you that she could use this experience as an excuse to acquire a lot of problems."

Bruce nodded. "And your being cruel will accomplish that?"

"Cruel to be kind. I won't tolerate her using this to derail herself. Get the fuck over it kid. That's what I'm saying with my behavior. I won't have her mooning over me. And even though she saw and experienced some really awful things she wasn't old enough for, I won't feel sorry for her. And you shouldn't either. She can bounce right back."

"Do you really believe that?"

Quinn jerked her chin at him, "I do, actually." She touched her forehead, then tapped it., "how can I put this? She's one of those kids who's had a tough life but managed to stay all light and sunshine inside. This mission has stirred up some truly bad weather for the first time so now she's thinking that a cloudy day just may be who she is. But she's not. I'm a cloudy day and so are you, by the way. But not her. She just needs to get back to herself. This was a bad dream."

Bruce's expression was dubious, "So—pretend like it never happened?"

"No. Know that it happened and that it doesn't matter that it happened. It's done. Get back to high school and get on with life."

"You might try kindness, instead."

"I don't know about that. It would be a novel approach for me."

"Try it—I don't think she needs a stick." Bruce folded his arms and looked at her long enough for her to look away.

"I want you to answer something else. Did you sleep with Dinah?"

Quinn was astonished to feel herself blushing, and answered in a mock Southern accent. "Why, Mr. Wayne, what a question!"

"Did you?"

"I slept with her every night," she responded, flatly. "If you mean did I consummate a sexual relationship with her, then no, I didn't. I won't say I wasn't tempted but—I'm not entirely amoral. Amoral Lite, maybe." He nodded.

"Why the interest in sex?"

"There are a couple of reasons. You don't need to know them now. You're tired."

He stood up and, to Quinn's bewilderment, picked her up very gently and lay her in the bed, pulled the cover over her.

She marvelled, "Bruce! Can you even imagine the odds against your putting me to bed—except in the eternal dirt-nap sense?"

"I'll go to the nurse's station. You clearly need more pain medication."

Quinn exhaled a sighing laugh, "My pain isn't all physical, Bruce. There's no pill for a lot of it."

"Yes. I think I see that now."

His face and voice were so kind that Quinn cocked her head, "Who are you, masked-man?"

"Who are you? There used to be a Harleen Quinzel, didn't there? Who was she before all of this?" Bruce paused at the door. "That's the question."

After Bruce departed and the nurse had given Quinn I.V. pain medication, the three women re-entered the room.

Helena immediately grabbed the ice bucket to refill it, saying "Dick said goodbye—he left with Bruce."

She knew the room would be a little chilly in emotional temperature, which is why she wanted to run away with the ice bucket.

Quinn sat up a bit, clearly feeling much more comfortable, "Before you go, Helena, I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier."

"Barbara, Dinah—I was very rude to you both and I'm sorry. And Helena, I'm sorry because my acting that way puts you in an uncomfortable position."

"No problem." Helena was glad to be finished with her part of the apology and she hurried away for the ice.

"And speaking of uncomfortable positions, Dinah—would you help me with these damned pillows."

It saddened Quinn and Barbara to see how quickly Dinah leapt into action. "Sure thing." As Quinn leaned forward, Dinah repacked the pillows behind the woman so that she could sit upright more comfortably. She caught Dinah's hand as she did so and kissed it. "I really am sorry."

"And, Barbara, I truly am sorry. My guilt makes me lash out at you, which you deserve the least of anyone."

"Apology accepted, Quinn."

Dinah shrugged, "So—we're all cool. What do you want to do tonight?"

"You know what," the woman responded, "I'd really like to be alone tonight. I appreciate your staying but I need to think. Okay? I've needed so much help that I haven't been alone to think in, what, a month?"

After the two women took their leave, Quinn lowered the lights in her room and closed her eyes, which was no hardship with so much morphine onboard. When she had met the Joker, he had engulfed her entirely but it was no use and not true to think that Harley Quinn was just a fabrication. That person was part of her. And part of her liked her. Was there anything, anyone else?

C'mon, she thought to herself. You're the therapist and it's staggeringly obvious. The shadow self. `Part of adulthood is making acquaintance with and accepting your shadow self,' she said in a bored monotone in her mind. `But you can't live it, you jackass. It's part of you—not all of you. If you take your medication, it's not even all that much of you.'

`But what if you don't know how to get back to the other part,' she countered to herself.

`Act as if you know how and fake it `til you make it.'

`I can't believe I just said that to myself. I hate those phrases.'

`You hate them because they're corny, simplistic adages that express profound truth. You want Dinah to get the fuck on with her life. What about you? You always want to talk too much, think too much.'

'Oh my God. You know what? Go to sleep.'

So she did.

The Next Morning

When Barbara and Dinah arrived the next morning, they were surprised to find Quinn in tremendous spirits. They chatted most pleasantly, with Quinn the soul of hospitality. It was two hours after they'd arrived that Quinn asked, "Dinah, would you go to the cafeteria and get one of those crazy big chocolate cookies for me?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

"As a matter of fact--" Quinn patted the side of the bed and Dinah took a seat. "Yes. I want you to go back to school next Monday, if you and Barbara can arrange it. Wouldn't you agree that would be a good idea, Barbara?"

Barbara was taken aback by question, still shocked by the abrupt change in Quinn's attitude from the day before. And that after talking with Bruce? She rolled forward. "I would. The school has agreed to let me tutor her on the months of subjects she's missed."

Dinah looked from Barbara to Quinn. "Please, Dinah. For me." Quinn's eyes were so gentle—in a way they hadn't been in more than a month.

Aw, man. The young girl looked down at the bed and heaved a sigh, and said with a mock-pouting voice for their benefit, "But I don't wanna go to school."

The two older women glanced at each other, then back at Dinah, who sighed again mournfully before saying, "Okay. I'll go for you."

Quinn took Dinah's hand and squeezed it, "You're going because you're my very dear young friend and it's for the best." The woman did not put any extra emphasis on the word `friend' but, to the girl, it sounded like a cannon shot because Quinn was allowing her to touch her telepathically. Friend. Period. She meant friend. Except.

Dinah instantly swivelled her head toward Barbara and asked, "Would you mind if I talked to Quinn privately for a few minutes?"

Barbara's eyes flew between the two women holding hands and she swallowed what she wanted to say. "Alright. I'll be back in 15 minutes." That was clearly a warning.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Dinah said, "I'll be legal in seven months."

Dinah's face was filled with such delight that Quinn laughed aloud, "You're out of your mind!"

"No—but I've just been in your's." She play-slapped the woman's arm. "I know you like me. And as more than a friend."

Quinn played-slapped her back. "I was under the impression we'd established that months ago."

"Then why don't—"

"You're. A. Child."

"But I'll be legal."

"Yes. To have sex with other children."

"How fucking old do I have to be?"

Quinn thought for a second. "Thirty."

"THIRTY? You'll be a hundred years old by then!"

"That's exactly the point!" Quinn said through laughter so hard that she would need pain medication sooner than she'd thought.

"Make it lower," Dinah said.

Quinn considered. "27"

"19," Dinah bid.

"That's crazy. Higher."

"Make yours lower."

"Okay--25."

"20." Dinah countered.

"You can't even drink legally at 20."

"Is that important?"

"No—but you must grant it's symbolic."

"Alright. The symbolic age of 21.

"How about that? Do we have a deal, Dr. Quinzel?"

Quinn looked into the girl's eager face and shook her head in disbelief. "I tell you what. Go back to school, go to college. Go on with your life—because you can't imagine how much you'll change in four years. Enjoy the relationships you will have. However, if you're still interested when you're 21 and if I'm not otherwise attached, we can talk."

Dinah grinned. "Talking isn't what I had in mind."

"Am I in hell?" Quinn asked the air.

She pulled Dinah forward by her shirt and kissed her tenderly on the lips, then gently pushed her away, making a shooing motion, "Now, that's it, damnit. That's all you're getting. Get my cookie and tell Barbara to get in here."

As she watched Dinah leave the room with a considerable amount of pep in her step, Quinn sighed with affection for the girl. It was entirely unlikely to work out the way Dinah imagined it would. But—hey—fake it til you make.

That Sunday Night