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Harley Quinn was damn good at her job.
She always had been, even while she was married to that bleached asshole, she never lost her edge. When she started out in college she had a roommate called Scott Mcillern who always used to wax poetic about how he'd gone into the same field as Harley to study "the intricacies of the human mind". She had always wished she'd had a smart answer like that when people asked her why "criminal physiology". The actual answer was both simpler and more complicated. Simple because at its core the only reply she truthfully had was "I want to help people that no one else cares about." And the complicated reply was that she was one of those people.
Her mother had called her "a bit kooky" and her father had called her "your mothers daughter". They were both mean as spit but not wrong. She knew first hand how the gotham medical system, hell the gotham justice system treated people like her, and at the beginning she truly believed she could change that.
She wondered now, at what point did she lose that belief? Maybe the first time a parole officer tried to fish for her number while she was actively reporting being harassed on the subway. Maybe when the old shrink at Gotham general told her she shouldn't make up stories like that, stories that could ruin a man's reputation. And all of that was before she fell in with a certain green haired clown with a shit-eating-grin. But even after all that, all the neglect and repressed bullshit she still kept one belief from her college days: she wanted to help people that no one else cared about. That's how she ended up here, chasing down a devastated little bird as he stumbled around the narrows.
She had just finished a shopping run when she saw him, hood pulled down so it covered the frantic look in his eyes. It had been a while since she'd seen the 3rd robin, but his slight frame and malnourished aesthetic made him indistinguishable from the others. She had always had a soft spot for this one, but she supposed he often had that effect on people. The last time she had seen him, he had been helping her and Ivy put out an oil fire that sprung up on east gotham. He called Ivy "Ms Pamela'' the whole time- something her and Ives still joke about from time to time.
Abandoning the shopping (sorry ives) she began to follow him, weaving in and out of the downtown alleys. She tried to call out to him with a "hey kid!" a few times, but not knowing his actual name was yet again a hindrance in her life. She didn't know how to describe it, and it wouldn't look very good in front of a judge, but something was wrong. She knew it even before she saw the barely concealed limp he was carrying around, or the way his arms stayed tightly wrapped around his shoulders. Something was very wrong with this little bird, and Harley was finally on good enough terms with the bats to do something about it.
She lost him at some point as they entered a string of flea markets that popped up all over the narrows after Friday. Bobbing and weaving amongst the stalls she pushed past needy vendors to catch a glimpse of that black hair drowning in a pool of customers. She had just managed to pull a very enthusiastic salesman off her side when she saw him again. Without paying attention he had stumbled onto the pedestrian walkway, whipping his head back and forth like he was waiting for someone to jump him any second now. Then all hell broke loose as the car appeared.
There was no other way to describe it. It "appeared". One second robin was alone in the middle of the road and the next there was a massive SUV screeching to pull up next to him. Harley lurched forward without thinking, latching on to whatever bit of the boy she could pull back violently as they both tumbled back onto the pavement. She felt Robin go completely stiff against her, his lithe body bristling as they watched the car narrowly miss another pedestrian.
“Fuck me in the eye! Wonderboy, what were you thinking?” Harley spun the boy wonder in question so he was facing her, hands bracketed on either side of his shoulders.
"Harley?" The boy squinted up at her, puffy pink eyes blinking rapidly.
"The one and only, kid."
He looked quizzically confused, in a way only a bat could, and then suddenly like he might just throw up.
"Okay slugger, let's get you somewhere less crowded, yeah?"
He didn't look like he was in the position to deny or agree, so Harley simply tucked him into her side and marched them to the closest thing resembling a coffee shop on this side of town. That being a barely tucked away bookstore on the corner of second and main that sold muffins and gift cards because no one really read books anymore right?
The shopkeeper was an old woman that looked like she had come out of the womb with a cigarette in her mouth and barely paid them any attention as they bristled by.
Harley had been so caught up in the urge to get the kid as far as possible from any main roads, that she actually hadn't glanced over her shoulder since they'd left the pavement to see how the little bat was holding up.
"You look rough kid, sit while I rustle up some bookstore-grub."
Harley watched over her shoulder as the kid slumped further into himself, picking at the loose threads of his jeans. He looked tired. That deep, aching exhaustion that you could feel soaking your bones. There was something else in his face. Something small and tucked away. He looked... scared? Not the I-almost-got-hit-by-a-car scared, but something deeper and more pressing.
"I'm okay now." Tim smiled weakly up at her as she handed him a muffin. "Sorry to cause a fuss, I just wasn't paying attention when the car..." he mumbled something nondescript and Harley got the message. When the car almost hit you. He gave her that look that said please don't ask me anymore questions as he picked at the muffin on his lap. Harley pretended not to notice. What she did notice was the black eye he had been shielding under the hood until now and the purplish bruise peeking out from the slip of his collarbone. Goddammit.
She put her hands on her hips theatrically, gasping in her larger-than-life-way and said: "Ah Christ! I've forgotten how to do this."
"Do what?" Tim tilted his head like a lost puppy and Harley had to barely resist the urge to tousle his hair.
"Y'know, the 'how to create a safe space' rigmarole! God I'm out of practice in being the good guy. It's so much more tedious than I remember it being." Harley tapped her chin in an exaggerated way that made Robin crack a wobbly smile.
"You mean the 'victim' talk?" He asked in a flippant tone as he tucked his knees underneath his chin. Harley didn't think he could get any smaller.
"Yeah! Exactly! The kind of talk you give someone when they almost get hit by a car because they were wandering the Gotham streets with a limp and a black eye."
Robin winced.
She was off to a wobbly start but Harleen Quinzel was nothing if not determined.
"What's the first step again? I have to ask the victim straight forward if they're being knocked around at home right?"
This time Robins smile was more genuine if a bit shy. That sardonic little grin that characterized Batman's little birds throughout the years. "That's actually the complete opposite of what you're supposed to do," he said. "You're supposed to ask indirectly. Questions like 'how are things going at home' and... 'how is your partner doing right now'"
Harley watched his whole face grimace through the last part, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knee. Bingo.
"Yeah?" She encouraged, "then what do I say?"
"Step two is to ask if there is anyone they feel safe contacting right now so they don't have to go through this process with a stranger."
Harley pressed on; "and after that?"
"You start to ask more direct questions like: W-what happens when you and your partner disagree? Have there been situations in your relationship where you have felt a-afraid?"
Robin's breath was quickening. Short, sharp gasps between words that made everything he was saying seem more urgent.
"Have you been physically hurt or threatened by your partner?
Has your partner ever forced you.... have they ever forced you to engage in sexual activities that you didn’t want? Even if you said no, and that you weren't ready and that you didn't want-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa robin. Deep breaths." Harley had heard enough. She crouched down beside the little bird, taking his hand and pressing it to his own chest.
"Breath in for 4,- one, two, three, four- breath out for 4- three, two, one."
They sat together like that for a bit, just breathing, and Harley's heart broke as she watched him try to scrub the redness from his eyes. His little chest was still hitching with the labor it took to draw in enough breath, and the shake in his hands had spread to the rest of his body. He was breaking down, and Harley alone was not enough to pick up the pieces.
"I think it's time for step 2 kiddo."
Out of all the Robins, heck the whole bat family, the last person Harley was expecting the kid to ask for was Jason Todd. Harley and Jason went way back, even before she left the rogue life, so in a way it was a relief to be calling up a familiar face. Nevertheless it came as a shock. Harley didn't think she'd want anyone who'd beaten the shit out of her to be here right now, but she supposed in the bat family that wouldn't leave a lot of options.
She thumbed over the emergency number he had given her years ago, and belatedly wondered if it still worked.
It did. Thank God.
"Hey outlaw, It's Harley."
She had the kid tucked against her side, eyes closed even though she knew he was listening to every word.
"Harles? You haven't used this number in years, everything alright?"
He sounded just as gruff as she remembered him, and she couldn't help but smile at the nostalgic cadence.
"Not exactly red. You know that bookstore underneath the Maxwell apartments on 9th?"
There was a grunt from the other line and she could already hear him moving around, packing things into bags.
"I need you to be here, quick as you can. And Jason?"
Another grunt.
"Come as a civilian."
The line went still for a moment, and she could almost hear the gears moving in the other man's head.
"What's this about Harleen?"
He only called her Harleen when he wanted a straightforward answer- so she gave him one, handing the phone to the baby bird shivering against her.
"Hey Jay." He sniffled out, and there was an even longer pause on the other side of the phone.
"Tim?"
Tim. Harley tucked that bit of information away for later.
"Tim? What's going on, are you hurt?"
It was Tim's turn to go silent, shiny tear tracks outlining his cheek bones as that desperate look he wore when Haley first spotted him began to creep back onto his face. Harley took the phone from him.
"Quick as you can Red!" She barked into the line and then dropped the call.
_
It took Jason about 10 minutes to get to the store and yet he still felt like he had made them wait an eternity. When he got there, he was met with a much more serine scene than what he had imagined after that cryptic phone call. Harley had Timmy's head on her shoulder, black and red painted nails combing through his tuft of black hair. They were both focused on a book in Harley's lap and it took a moment for Jason to realize Harley was reading to him. If it hadn't been so endearing Jason might have been pissed. The pair had dragged him across Gotham in a frenzy, turning over in his mind all of the things that could have happened.
"Timbo?" Jason stepped into their line of sight, towering above the bench as four pairs of eyes whipped up to look at him.
"Jayjay!" Harley answered instead, leaping up to bring her arms around his shoulders. She tousled his hair and squeezed his arms, and Jason couldn't help the nagging feeling that he was being prepared for something.
"Aww shucks, you know what? I've already read this one," Harley turned the book over in her hands. "Sit with Tim while I go find something else."
Jason watched Tim actively curl into himself, puffy red eye's caged in by the Gotham knight's hoodie he had pulled up to his ears. He knew that look. He had sported that look for most of his teen years, pre and post Joker. It said: please don't ask but also please god acknowledge that something is wrong.
"Do you want to talk?" He asked in a gentler tone than what Tim was used to from him, evident by the wide eyed look he shot back.
"Not right now... if that's okay," Tim replied honestly, if a bit solemnly.
Jason nodded, ducking into the alcove to press himself against the smaller figure, tucking Tim's little body against his massive frame, partly because Tim needed something to ground himself to right now, and partly because it was the only way the two of them could fit into the nook. Tim's whole body tensed as Jason pressed against him, vertebrae stacking up into a straight line so he sat stiff as a board beside the older man. Jason tried to squeeze Tim's shoulder as a placating gesture, but that seemed to make everything worse as the younger boy began to actively tremble. Tim hadn't had that kind of reaction to Jason in years. It made Jason feel huge and predatory, like he was pushing himself into a little birds nest to push him out instead of give him warmth. He opted to sit on the floor beside Tim's feet, back leaning against the bench banister.
Close enough for comfort, low enough that Tim held the point of power. Tim's breath slowed, even if the trembling didn't.
Something was very wrong.
They both waited in silence as Jason belatedly searched the bookshelves he was squeezed against, looking for anything that he recognized or that might miraculously soothe a shaking 17 year old boy. A bright green and red paperback caught his attention, and a grin Alfred would describe as 'cheeky' began to spread across his face.
"I found the perfect one Harls!" He called out to the older woman who was bussing herself trying to push all of the spines of the books to hit the very back of the shelf. She spun around, and once she spotted the book in question, her smile began to mimic Jason's.
"Whatcha got for me Jay boy!"
Tim, finally curious enough to peek out from his caged arms, peered over Jason's bicep to read the title in his hands.
"There's a wocket in my pocket?" Tim tilted his head like a lost kitten and Harley burst out laughing.
"The hight of literature!" She exclaimed.
Harley plonked herself right above Jason's shoulders, forcing the two boy's to wiggle out of the way. Tim ended up squeezed between Harley's waist and Jason's collar, half of his midsection draped over the older boy's lap as Harley began petting through his hair again. He should feel trapped. Caged in between two notoriously loose cannons. Crime lords in their own right. But Tim had never felt so warm before. Tim had never felt so safe before. He figured it was okay to stay for a little while.
"Did you ever have a feeling that there's a wasket in your basket?" Jason began in a pompous voice that made Tim sniffle out a giggle. His cheeks went bright pink as he saw Harley hide a chuckle of her own.
"Or a nureau in your bureau?" Harley chimed in.
"Or a woset in your closet?" Jason added as if it was a conversation between the two. The juxtaposition of red hood and Harley Quinn reading him the equivalent of a bedtime story with funny voices was something he felt the need to make fun of. But no one had ever really read him bedtime stories before, and it was nice to feel babied instead of matured by the adults around him for a change, so he kept his mouth shut.
"Sometimes," Harls continued, " I feel quite certain, there's a jertain in the curtain!"
"Sometimes I have the feeling there's a zlock behind the clock!"
Tim's eyes had begun to droop even as more giggles were shared between the trio, his cloud of black hair bobbing back and forth as sleep threatened to topple him over. Maybe that was okay. Tim didn't usually sleep in public, or at all really, but today he was sandwiched between Harley Quinn and Red hood. They would protect him. They wouldn't let anything bad happen while he was asleep. They would make sure Jacob would never touch him again.
"What you thinking Harls?"
Tim had passed out a little over 10 minutes ago, his entire body dwarfed by the jacket Jason had draped over him. He was so small. So much smaller than Jason had been at that age.
"What happened here?"
Harley gave him a complicated look, absent-mindedly smoothing out the edges of the book they had picked up earlier. Jason didn't know if he could bear to know what made Harleen Quinnzel fidget anxiously.
"I'm not sure, I mean I didn't get all the facts but it looks like baby bird might have had a less-than-consensual experience with the new boyfriend." Harley's eyes were downcast on the boy, a miserable look characterizing her features as she stroked her fingers through his matt of hair. It was not just a look of sympathy, but recognition. Harley mourned for Tim in a way that said she had been in his shoes, and understood that no amount of mourning could fix the hurt he was going through.
Jason's wince was visible, and so was the anger that he wore on his sleeve. His arms tightened around Tim where he kept him anchored in his lap.
"Oh baby bird." He murmured privately, tucking a stray piece of hair behind the boys ear. He looked up at Harley.
"Thank you for calling me."
"It was the kid's choice, big red."
Jason looked genuinely surprised. It hurt Harley's heart a bit, that even after all these years, honest trust was still not something Jason was afforded very often.
"Didn't even think twice about it. You were the first on the dial up."
Jason gaped as something warm began to take root in his chest. Tim trusted him with this. Tim trusted that Jason wouldn't erode the boundaries he had set up around himself. He found himself again squeezing the younger boy to his chest, a silent promise that there was safety there. Jason could be safe. He could be the shoulder Tim cried on. The big brother that put the boyfriend in a hospital bed. He could be that. Tim was letting him be that.
"I won't let you down Robin," Jason whispered almost inaudibly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
And then even quieter,
"You're safe."