A/N: Soo, I randomly got this idea in the middle of the night. The story of Bruce Wayne and Harleen Quinzel told in five one-shots.
So, without further ado I present to you: Obsidian - A Tragedy in Five Acts
She was beautiful, no matter how much he wanted to deny it to himself and her beauty was evident even as she sat here in the interrogation room, glaring him down from across the metal table. Her grease paint was smeared all over her lovely face reminding him on some kind of macabre master piece and her egg white dress, even though it was splattered with blood looked absolutely stunning on her.
"Are you going to interrogate me or are we just going to continue with this little stare down?" she snapped, crossing her slender arms over her chest and raising an expectant brow.
Batman shook his head lightly to refocus his thoughts – this was the infamous Harley Quinn he was speaking to here, a murderess, serial arsonist and a madwoman. There was nothing beautiful about her, absolutely nothing; at least he had to try to convince himself of that.
"Where is he, Harleen?" Batman snarled at her.
"The clown? I don't know," the blond shrugged before leaning forward, madness smoldering behind her azure orbs. "But if you find him, send his painted ass to me; I've got a present for that mother fucker."
So the rumors were true, Harleen was out to kill the Joker.
"What happened between you two?" he asked "What did he do to you?"
If Harleen hadn't scowling before, she sure as hell was now. Though Batman wasn't easily frightened, he couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy with the terrifying look on Harleen's face. For a moment, it looked as though she were going to tackle him and he braced him but instead, after a few moments of glaring deep into his dark eyes, she leaned back and looked away.
"That's no one's concern but mine and his. He knows what he did and he knows that he deserves to die for it," she spat. "That's all I'll say to you, Gordon or any other idiot that wants to know."
Batman almost wanted to smile, despite her brash words, fowl language and snarky remarks, there was something almost charming about her that he couldn't quite shake.
Goddamit, Bruce! Knock it off, she's a convicted killer not some beauty queen. Get your head back in the game and get the fuck out of here!
Batman stood and moved towards the door, speaking as he walked. "I have a friend who will help you, Harleen. Both in Arkham and out."
"What if I don't want you or your friend's help?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"You do otherwise you would have attacked me when you slipped out of your handcuffs 3 minutes ago."
Harleen glanced at her freed hands that she'd been trying to conceal under the small table and then back at the Batman. Damn him.
Taking her silence as his queue to leave, Bruce opened the door but stopped short when she called out to him.
"Why are you doing this?"
"You're different, I can see it."
Then he was gone.