Chapter 1: Tyrian

She stumbled and clutched the coat around her, her baby-blues filling with tears, body quivering beneath the too large article that surrounded her. The late November chill reached its fingers through any opening and she was unprotected in the swath of royal purple cloth she wrapped herself in. The tyrian purple certainly made her peach skin appear even more pale; he could see the blood crusting around her mouth.

Her ebony lipstick was smeared and white greasepaint was flaking off in areas. The Kohl that had embraced her eyes was running down her cheek with the tears she was crying. She sniffled and her body gave another shiver. He sighed, unable to take it any longer: just merely observing her.

She looked like a little broken doll, swaying and stumbling, eyes unfocused. Her flaxen hair shone in the moonlight. He descending into the alley behind her and she paused. He knew she heard his footsteps against the concrete. She turned around and despite himself he felt his heart fall at the look of resignation on her face. It was an expression of utter defeat as her sapphire orbs fell on his black form.

Her mouth twisted into an ironic smile, "Batsy?"

He was close to her now. He had heard that there was beauty in a breakdown, and he could never deny that Harleen Quinzel, whether doctor or Harley Quinn wasn't stunning even in a layer of paint. His eyes fell to take her in.

"He do this to you?"

Her eyes fell at the question. It was as much of an answer as he needed. She was clad in a pair of simple tennis shoes, the Joker's purple trench coat—he had no idea how she'd managed to make it out with that particular article—and probably a pair of skimpy PJs. He shook his head, but was brought from his reverie by her voice once again.

"So cold, so tired," he had only enough time to grab her before she collapsed. He stared down at her face, and he was certain that had he felt her skin with bare hands that it would have been ice-cold. He needed to get her someplace warm. He hefted into his arms and held her like a sleeping child. He didn't hesitate as he pressed a button on his belt and a newly repaired Tumbler came flying into the alley.

He knew exactly where to take her; the risks of her health were far more pressing than the discovery of his true identity. He tucked the royal violet coat tighter around her and placed her into the passenger seat, fastening her in.

Alfred was going to have a field day with this.

This has no relation to my other TDK fanfiction, "The Ultimate Joke". This is another story entirely, whose birth owes its creation to a merely voicing of ideas, a rewatching of "Batman Begins", an exercise on characterization with my beta, and finally the Live Journal Community, 100colors. This chapter was inspired by prompt 73: Royal Purple.

I hope you enjoy my flight of fancy and I may have the next chapter up later today. Constructive criticism is welcome, this is one interesting couple to undertake and I'm excited and anxious to see how it all works out.