I decided to give in and do a fanfic! Takes place between the events of Gotham City Sirens and these characters' current titles, but I will attempt to integrate the New 52 history. Harley Quinn and Catwoman will be the main players, with some Riddler throughout in later installments.
She had lost everything.
She had wanted it all, wanted to have her cake and eat it too. She left Ivy – her last, and maybe only, true friend – once again, for the Joker. But could she really blame herself? She loved him… she knew him like nobody else did, and only he could truly understand what dwelt in the heart of Harley Quinn.
If only he was willing to take responsibility for that.
After Catwoman and Ivy had gone their separate ways, she had gone back to Arkham and they’d broken out. It wasn’t exactly a challenge anymore, not with her and Mr. J working side-by-side, just the way it should have always been. They had slipped out without a sound – nobody even noticed, not until they found their presents… and opened them! – and then they’d been loose in Gotham.
Just the way it should have always been.
But, Mr. J was Mr. J. He was a kook, and she could never hold that against him. So maybe he forgot her? Left her inside the top vault of Gotham National Bank when he’d heard the cops coming? So what if he’d left fifteen pounds of lit dynamite in there with her? She couldn’t blame her puddin’ for that. He had a lot on his mind when they were out on the town. She knew she could never have ALL of his attention.
Fortunately the consequences were never so bad. The burns healed after a couple weeks and Arkham wasn’t that bad a place to do it, nice and warm in her cell. The sounds of the committed psychos crooning and gibbering all night helped her sleep, too. What could she say? It was home.
Though… was it ever really home without Mr. J there to make her smile? Or… or Ivy?
Harley Quinn frowned a little, turning onto her side and trying to get comfortable. All of a sudden her little cot didn’t feel so comfy anymore. She hated to admit that she missed Ivy, but… she’d always been there. Ivy was there when her puddin’ was gone, Ivy took care of her when she was sick. Ivy kept her warm when she was cold. She wasn’t as funny as the Joker but she was a friend. Maybe Harley’s only friend.
Why had she said those things? Why had Ivy forced her to choose? She could never leave Mr. J by himself, Ivy knew that. He couldn’t even cook a decent meal without Harley to do it for him, and then what would happen? Her puddin’ out in Gotham, hungry on the job?
Her stomach rumbled faintly. She hated Arkham. It was so cold and creepy and everyone was always so serious, shouting and smashing each other’s heads against walls and stuff. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t even crazy.
Okay, so maybe she was a little crazy. But aren’t people allowed to be crazy if they do it for the right reasons?
Harley Quinn broke out of Arkham that night, her burns almost fully healed but her heart still in… not the best repair.
Breaking out had been a tough decision, actually. Where should she go? Joker was gone – last she’d heard he was somewhere in Scotland, reenacting Braveheart in a nursing home, with old people in the place of the English (bless his heart) – and Ivy was... well… she wasn’t sure where Ivy was.
So where should she go? Who would take her in now? She thought about making her own gang, but she didn’t have the heart for it. She wanted a friend, and there was only one person she could think of who might not want her dead.
Selina Kyle yawned and stretched out, popping several vertebrae and pressing her lithe form out against each bedpost. What was that sound, so damn late at night? Maybe it was just the rain (it WAS really coming down), but nonetheless, she slowly rolled to the side of the bed, setting her slim feet carefully onto the carpet.
Isis looked up at her lazily, the slinky black cat’s expression clearly expressing its distaste at her being up at this hour.
“I know, Isis, I know. Did you hear what it was?” Catwoman’s feline friend looked back at her with a half-lidded glare.
Selina sighed quietly, reaching over to gently trail her hand from Isis’s neck, along her skinny back and the length of her tail. “Of course you didn’t.”
“What in the world? Alright, Isis, scooch. I need to get dressed.” She swiftly tugged her light white shift from under her furry friend, the silk dotted with little black hairs. She slipped it cleanly over her uncovered form and stood up, making her way down each stair soundlessly.
One thing was for sure, it wasn’t Bruce. Bruce didn’t play games like this. If it had been him, she would have aready known. Odds were it wasn’t Dick either, but it was definitely coming from the door.
Selina’s hand seamlessly swiped up her cat-o’-nine-tails as she drew closer to the door, her head lowered slightly, eyes widened slightly, not missing a thing. No sound, but for the rain, and….
She took a deep breath and reached out, twisting the doorknob and flinging open the entrance to her home. She began to raise one hand to strike, just in case it was—
So this is what it looks like when a drowned rat mates with both black and red licorice. None other than her – former – teammate stood on her doorstep, her bi-colored hair wet and stringy from the rain, her makeup worn off. She wasn’t even wearing her festive, if not exactly conservative, “jester” costume, but a faded orange jumpsuit – barely concealed by a heavy brown overcoat that looked like it was taken off of a dead hobo. Just a pale, wet young woman.
“Harley, you’re soaking wet! What…? What are you doing here?”
She looked up and offered a weak smile. Selina supposed they hadn’t exactly left on the WORST of terms – she’d left Harley to do what she had wanted, and it seemed that decision had played itself out. Selina Kyle – or Catwoman – was certainly not to blame for that.
“Would you mind if I come in?”