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It was an ordinary, humid, hot-as-hell New Orleans morning, and Rick was just getting the mail from his mailbox.
He flipped through the envelopes—water bill, electric bill, junk mail, junk mail, and… a loose, folded sheet of paper.
He set down the rest of the envelopes on his kitchen counter, slowly opening the piece of paper.
On the paper, in red ink, was written:
“Tomorrow, 3:00 o’clock pm
Hope Hill Cemetery
1847 Greenbriers Crescent
Laurel Hill, Queens
NY 11377
Please come if you can. Dress nice too.
❤️
H.”
Rick knew it was her handwriting, but he wasn’t sure if she had been kidnapped and forced to write this.
But if she’d been kidnapped, she wouldn’t have told him to “dress nice”.
Regardless, he knew he was going to go either way, because Harley had asked him to, but he was definitely not going to go to the cemetery defenseless.
Harley was standing at the gates of the cemetery, bouquet of lilacs in hand, waiting for Rick.
She’d put the note in his mailbox herself, she knew he’d get it, but part of her was preparing for disappointment even as she knew he’d never do that to her.
She hoped that he’d dress up like she asked, but as long as he came, she didn’t really care.
Harley just wanted him to make a good impression, and it would be nice if he was as dressed up as she was—her face was delicately made up, her favorite red lipstick lending a pop of color to her features, and she’d chosen to wear a sedate, black ankle-length dress with an a-line skirt, red lace at the hem, black silk gloves, a black trench coat, sensible red shoes, and a ruby-encrusted purse hanging from a long silver chain on her shoulder.
She’d put her hair in an updo, and pinned in a black pillbox hat with a small, matching tulle veil hanging from it, to complete the look.
Harley looked up at the clear sky, it was getting late, and she wanted to make sure she had as much time as possible.
She turned to enter the gates, but halted as she heard a car driving down the road.
It was a yellow cab, and her heart stopped as she hoped it was him.
It pounded back into a racing rhythm as the vehicle slowed to a stop, and out stepped Rick, wearing his Army dress uniform, black wool overcoat draped over his arm.
“You came, and you even dressed up,” she gasped, her lip trembling.
“You asked me to,” he replied, an uncertain smile on his face, as if it were a law of the universe that she only had to ask and he’d do whatever she wanted.
She pushed that thought out of her mind before she could indulge it, because there were priorities, and as much as that thought sent a strange, yet familiar feeling through her, she needed to have her head on straight.
Or as straight as it could be, anyway.
“I did,” she nodded.
“What are we doing here, Harls?” He gently asked her.
“You’ll see. Let’s go inside.”
With a nod of his own, he extended his arm to her, and she looped her arm through his crooked elbow, grateful for the support.
He allowed her to lead him through the cemetery, until they were approaching a gravestone standing beneath the shade of two trees planted close enough together to make a sort of arch.
The tears already welled in her eyes, and she hadn’t even said a word.
Finally, the two of them were standing right in front of the gravestone, and she felt Rick stiffen beside her as he read the name and dates on the marker.
Taking a deep breath, she began, “Hi baby, it’s Mommy. I brought someone special with me today—I want to introduce him to you. Lucy, honey, this is Colonel Rick Flag, he’s my best friend.”
Turning to Rick, she said, “Rick, this is Lucy Quinzel, my daughter.”
His expression was a mix of heartbroken and wondering, but soon, it cleared, and he turned to face Lucy’s grave with that heart-melting smile of his.
“Hi Lucy, it’s nice to meet you. Like your mother said, I’m her best friend, and she’s mine too.
I’m very blessed to know your mother, and she’s saved my life.
More than once, actually.
In fact, your mother was very brave, she took a bullet for me just a few months ago.
Your mother is a very special woman, and I’m lucky to have her in my life.”
Harley sniffled, shaking her head, “He’s making it sound like a bigger deal than it was—but don’t worry, Mommy’s okay now.
I brought your favorites today, I thought you’d like that.”
Harley pulled away from Rick and moved to the cold white marble, lovingly placing the bouquet against it, next to the small potted hyacinth already sitting in front of it, before crouching to brush away some loose blades of grass which had blown onto the base.
“There now, that’s better, ain’t it? Can’t have you not looking your best.”
Rick’s voice broke in, “Did you want a moment alone?”
Harley nodded, “I’d like that.”
With a nod, he began to make his way back to the main path.
Harley shifted to kneel on the cool grass, softly touching the marble. “So, what do you think of Rick?
He’s a good guy, isn’t he?
Infinitely better than your father.
He’s really my… my best friend, Lucy-goosey.”
Harley was uncertain as to why she paused on “best friend”, though she was fairly sure she could figure it out if she thought about it enough, but she continued, “I thought it was about time that you meet the other reason I don’t regret your father.
I miss you so much, Lucy, though I really don’t feel I have a right to, and I’ll never stop being sorry that I couldn’t be there for you—even if it was for the best that you didn’t really know me.
Anyway… I love you, honey, so much.
Happy birthday, Lucy.”
And she leaned forward, pressing a scarlet kiss to the corner of the stone, leaning her forehead against the cool marble for a few minutes.
It felt like a short time later when she heard soft footsteps on the grass.
Harley turned her head, not lifting it from the gravestone.
“You okay, Harls?” Rick asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’ve… you’ve been sitting here for an hour,” he gently said.
“I have?” She frowned, looking up.
He was right, the sun was a lot lower in the sky than she thought it would be.
“Oh, okay.” She began to stand, but the sudden rush of blood to her head and legs made her stumble, all her athleticism absent at the moment.
Fortunately, Rick lurched forward, catching her in his arms, steadying her.
“Whoa, Harls, you okay?”
“I—” she stopped, her reply that she was perfectly fine dying in her throat as she looked into his warm, concerned eyes.
“I—no,” Harley whispered, tears welling anew in her eyes as she sobbed, “No, no, I’m not.”
And her legs gave out beneath her as her tears flowed and sobs spilled from her mouth.
Before she could sink to the ground, he scooped her up into his arms, moving to a nearby bench as she held tightly to him, crying into his shoulder, Rick all the while keeping his arms around her, his solid presence grounding and reassuring.
When her tears had run dry, she said, “I know you know by now, but yes, she’s Joker’s daughter.
I was still so head over heels for him, but when I found out I was pregnant, I knew that my child couldn’t get caught up in my crazy, or her father’s crazy.
So I ran to New York, and I waited until I gave birth, then I left her on my sister’s doorstep, with a note begging her to take care of Lucy and a phone number just in case.
Luckily, Delia did, she always had a soft spot for me.
After that, I went back to Joker, bracing myself for, I don’t even know what, and you know?
He didn’t even notice that I was gone for months, he didn’t even care.
But I was suckered so deep into thinking that he loved me, I told myself that he was just a very busy man, and he didn’t mean to forget me.
Sometimes, I’d take off and go watch her from a distance, especially on her birthday—today.
Then, three years ago, Delia called me.
Lucy was diagnosed with cancer. A bad one, her odds of seeing another year, less than none.
I was such a coward, though.
I only went two weeks before she died.
I’ll never forget the look on her face when Delia introduced me as her mother.
It’s like she didn’t care at all that I abandoned her, she was so happy to meet me.
I’ll never understand how she could forgive me so easily.
We talked about anything and everything, which is how I found out her favorite flowers, Delia had them planted in the yard.
But she died in my and Delia’s arms, and my heart broke more than I thought it ever could.
And when I came back to Gotham after her funeral, again, Joker didn’t even care I left, or care that I was more depressed than ever, he just kept on like everything was business as usual.”
She could hear the cogs turning in Rick’s head.
“That’s what made him break up with you, isn’t it?”
Harley nodded, “He hated that I was so depressed, that I didn’t have it in me to plan his crimes for him.
I thought these had to be the worst things to ever happen to me—first I lose my daughter, then the man I thought was the love of my life.
But I’m so glad he dumped me now, you know?
I just really wish it didn’t come at Lucy’s expense.
I wish you had been able to meet her when she was still alive, you really woulda loved her.”
She moved to open her bag, pulling out a small picture, worn around the edges.
It showed Harley, a bright smile on her face, an immense sadness in her eyes, blue and pink pigtails low on her head, wearing a pink velvet hoodie with matching pants, sitting on a hospital bed, arms wrapped around a six-year-old girl with a nasal cannula and IV’s on each wrist, who was practically the mirror image of her mother, the only difference being that her hair was a deep, sandy shade of blonde darker than Harley’s own had been even before her swan-dive into a toxic chemical vat.
“That’s my sweet girl,” Harley lovingly said, stroking a finger over Lucy’s photographed face.
“She looked exactly like you, except for her hair,” Rick observed.
“Only thing she got from her father, thankfully.”
“I never knew, Harls,” he whispered.
“That was kinda the point,” she smirked ruefully, keeping the photo back in her purse.
“Why did… you ask me to come today? This is supposed to be your day with her.”
“I… didn’t wanna be alone this year, and… I thought that my two very special reasons I don’t regret Joker should meet, even if it’s only like this.”
His expression turned touched, as his mouth fell slack.
Harley continued, “I can ask you why you decided to come.”
“I already told you—you asked me to.”
“For all you knew, it could’a been a trap, or somethin’, I could’a been forced to write that,” she shook her head.
Rick huffed a short chuckle, before shifting to reach into the pocket of his overcoat, which was still draped over his left arm, pulling out a pistol.
“That’s what this was for,” he casually said before putting it back in the pocket.
Harley laughed, sniffling.
“I was wonderin’ why you brought that coat—I know it’s cooler here in New York, but it ain’t that cold yet. You’re really a Boy Scout, Rick.”
He smirked, “You know you love it,” as he gently brushed a finger down her cheek, through the dried traces of her tears, and a shiver ran down her spine, making her look down and away.
“I got snot on your uniform,” she muttered, trying to rub at least some of it off, before he took her hand in his, halting her.
“It’s okay. That’s what dry cleaning’s for,” he reassured, before looking off into the distance, still gripping her hand in his.
Harley waited, knowing that he was only gathering his thoughts.
After a beat, Rick took a deep breath and said, “I want to thank you, Harls, for inviting me to join you today.
I’m honored that you introduced me to Lucy.
You didn’t have to share her with me at all, but you did.”
“No,” she smiled, “Thank you for being here for me, Rick.
And if there was ever anyone I’d share her with, it’s you.”
And they just sat there, looking at each other, the air becoming charged with something that made her heart race and her breath turn shallow, which didn’t do anything to prevent the scent of his cologne from permeating her senses.
Listening to the voice in her head that sounded like Harleen, which was telling her that allowing this moment to drag on was very dangerous territory, she broke it by saying, “It’s late, we should go before they shut the cemetery on us.”
Rick blinked, as if he were coming to his senses, saying, “Oh, yeah. Did… did you want to say goodbye to Lucy before we go?”
She nodded, “Mmm-hmm. Will you come with me?”
“Sure. I got you, Harls.”
They stood from the bench together, Harley taking determined steps to her daughter’s grave.
“Hi, Lucy, it’s Mommy and Rick again, it’s late, and we gotta go before they close the joint on us.
I just wanted to tell you again that I love you, and I’ll see you again soon.
Sleep tight, Honey.”
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Quinzel,” Rick said, inclining his head respectfully towards the gravestone, which made a smile spread over Harley’s lips. He turned to her, asking, “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
They turned back to the path, Harley belatedly realizing that their hands were still in each other’s grasp—they hadn’t let go of each other ever since she collapsed in his arms.
And it felt… really nice.
It felt better than nice, actually.
Like she wouldn’t mind having that forever.
Thoughts came dizzyingly to the forefront of her mind, almost too fast for even her to catch, but catch them she did.
- That Lucy, with that dark, sandy blonde hair of hers… she looked like she could have been another man’s daughter… a very particular other man.
- That she wished, so much, that that were the case.
- The thought that, right now, anyone who looked at them, might think that they were together together.
- That she didn’t mind that idea in the slightest.
She was so screwed.
However, Harley violently flung those thoughts out of her mind, knowing that to go down this path was dangerous, oh-so-dangerous, and she didn’t want to jeopardize her friendship with this wonderful, amazing man, no matter how much she might want to swan-dive right into the no-man’s-land that she was being tempted with.
This was the only scrap of normal and sane in her life that she had, and she was going to cling to it, damnit.
And most of all, he deserved someone better, someone saner than her, someone without all her baggage.
“I guess I have to call a cab,” Rick remarked offhandedly, bringing her back to the present.
“No need, I got my ride,” Harley grinned, pulling a set of keys from her purse, and bringing him to a shiny, red, vintage Chevy Impala.
Rick whistled.
“This is nice, Harls.”
“Thanks,” she replied proudly. She took a deep breath before continuing, unable to help herself from wanting to spend more time with him, “I… I was thinking that maybe, if you want… we could get something to eat, there’s a joint around here that has some really great hot dogs.
It ain’t an egg sandwich from Sal’s, but it’s pretty damn good,” she said somewhat shyly, as they got into the car.
Rick put the overcoat into the backseat, then took off his cover, setting the black wool beret on his lap before turning to her with yet another beautiful smile.
“Sounds great.”
Concealing her sigh, she started the car with a bright smile of her own, allowing herself to soak up the peace she felt just being around him.
His friendship was enough.
It had to be.