Descent

Chapter 8

The sky was dark as pitch when Harleen emerged from her car. The one thing you could count on was the weather in Gotham was as dark as its criminal underbelly.

A valet rushed over, taking her keys and handing her a ticket. She stowed it in the glittery clutch that housed her cell phone and I.D. She had matched the tiny purse to her emerald green dress. Now that Harleen thought of it the glitter of her bag reminded her of the Joker's eyes.

She had to fight down a sigh, at the thought of another Wayne Corp gala. How Harleen hated rubbing elbows with the who's who of Gotham. And don't get her started on Bruce Wayne himself.

Screw it, she thought.

Harleen began to go over her mental list of why she despised the millionaire playboy. He was stiff and too well polished. Drove the flashiest cars, and had the sexiest women on his arm. Yet, had no lasting relationships.

Even for someone as full of himself as Bruce Wayne was he should have settled down already. Made sure there was an heir to the Wayne fortune. Hell, most of the women who fawned over him wouldn't care if he had a side piece. Some of the women who ran in these circles only wanted to get that Mrs. before their names.

No there was something he was hiding. Harleen knew from her years of study he must have some huge ass secret in his closet.

"Miss Quinzel, nice of you to join us this evening." Bruce stepped out of the shadows and offered her his arm.

She had to hold herself in check, because she felt an eye roll coming on. Instead Harleen called on her years of training to be Jimmy's arm candy and accepted his arm graciously. At least she could pull something good from the hell that was her past.

"Well, I can't be antisocial all the time." She shot him her most winning smile.

Bruce hummed, not even listening to what she was saying. He was more interested in being seen with her on his arm. For a women who had to fight her way through life she cut a ravishing figure in her evening gown. Bruce felt she was elegant enough to warrant his attention.

His mind was also occupied with wanting to know what she thought of her newest patient. If she thought there was any way to reach the man he had once been, before he had been lost. Bruce hoped to somehow get the old Jason back. Not that he would ever see the outside world again after all he had done. But if they could get his sanity back that would be enough for Bruce.

Harleen had been a hard sell to Dr. Arkham, but Bruce could be persuasive. Not to mention a hefty donation, and the offer to let Arkham Asylum have the new psychotropic drugs his company made on the house, had sweetened the pot. So Harleen owed her position at the asylum to him. Or at least that was how Bruce saw it.

They moved about the banquet hall with Harleen greeting some of the high rollers as she glided through the crowd. There were a lot of high rollers here tonight. Some she was sure also slinked along the underbelly of Gotham.

As soon as they made it over to a quiet corner Bruce decided to grill her. He handed her a glass of white wine hoping it would loosen her up. Maybe he would get more than information out of her this evening. If he could ditch his date that was.

"So Miss Quinzel, how do you find working at Arkham?"

That was twice he had conveniently forgotten her title. Harleen worked long and hard to get where she was. Promising herself she would rise above what she had been bred to be. Men like Bruce Wayne thought she was; insipid arm candy and nothing more. Well, she would have to correct his assumption.

"It's Dr. Quinzel, if you don't mind." She eyed him pointedly. It was the same look she gave her patients when they were trying to test her will.

"Forgive me. It's just that you're so young..."