beforethepunchline | [debut] if you go chasing rabbits and you know you're going to fall

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[debut] if you go chasing rabbits and you know you're going to fall

It's been a long few weeks. The last while has taken her from Harleen Quinzel to Harley Quinn, from London to Leningrad, from psychiatry to fighting Nazis and monster armies. (Seriously, is she crazy or did everyone in this arc have a monster army? What is that about?) It's brought her from being alone to love. Heck, she even had a vacation under the sea.

All in all, it's been a pretty good time.

Okay, so there were the giant monster octopus things and that General Faora lady and Killer Frost, and she'd been real worried about Raven for a minute there. But they've turned it all around. Leningrad hasn't just survived the siege; it's blossoming in the depths of winter, entirely literally. That's all Pam-a-Lamb. While everyone recuperates from the last fight, she's covered Leningrad in fruits and flowers.

The air is sweet with it, redolent with rose and daisy and violet. It does nothing to help Harley stay awake where they lay, curled together on the grass, vines and flowers around them. The stingray Mera lent them, now small, floats down to rest on her hand, and Harley closes her eyes. They've had their share of war. There's no escaping the fact that, soon enough, they'll get right back into the fray. For now, though, they've earned their rest.

The air is different around her when she wakes up, warm, with a hint of aged upholstery. She sits up slowly, fingers curling tight into the seat as she looks around, heart skipping a beat.

She's on a train, that much is clear. How she got here, though, she doesn't know, and she isn't too keen on that. Appearing in places she shouldn't be with no sign of Pamela in sight, that isn't all that funny, and she's not sure, for a moment, how to make it be. She looks out the window for help, but there's just countryside rolling past, the ocean visible in the distance, a city coming into view that she doesn't recognize.

And then there's the fact no one else is on board. Oh, she can see and hear people in other cars, glimpse them through the windows in the doors, but there's not a soul in this car with her. So when the train pulls into the station and comes to a stop, it's a surprise to Harley that the door opens. She steps off the train with a handful of other passengers, and no one seems to give her so much as a second glance, which is kind of weird in itself.

She approaches the information booth, but the girl there just glances up for a moment before handing her a heavy manila envelope. "This is yours," she says, incredibly bored by it all, and then closes the window before Harley can ask any questions.

She's not sure what to make of it, that she's suddenly been handed this or that the girl seemed to recognize her as the intended recipient of the package. She's not sure what to do with the contents of the envelope either, which she starts to examine as she leaves the station. There's cash, which is great, even if it's an unfamiliar currency, but the ID is kind of creepy, and then there's a strange object of metal and glass that has Harley hesitating. She doesn't know what it is, but it looks pretty futuristic, and the cars and clothes around her ain't like anything she knows from home.

"Oh, no," she says, "time travel." She taps on the booth's glass front. "Hey, I didn't sign up for this."

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Karen doesn't typically spend a lot of time at the train station. She didn't even show up there herself, though she knows that it's a common way for people to come into the city, showing up on a train they never boarded and pulling into a station they've never heard of before. She's not sure if that would have been better or worse than what she got instead — being stranded out in the woods, still bleeding from the car crash she'd been in just minutes before. On one hand, she got lucky, being found by someone who could help her and whom she recognized, her surroundings not even all that different from one second to the next. On the other, being somewhere well-lit and having a good many more people around might have made the whole thing a little less unsettling.

That was a long time ago now, though, and she's as used to this place as she'll ever be — which is to say, she goes looking into whatever she can at every possible opportunity, hardly content to take everything at face value and let that be that. There's always something to be found under the surface. It's just a matter of digging deep enough to get to it, which she likes to think she's gotten pretty good at.

Today, she's just passing by, having given herself a break from writing and researching to go out and pick up something for lunch. The fresh air, she figures, will do her some good. To the train station itself, she isn't paying much attention until she hears a voice carrying from near the information booth, which, from what she's gathered, can generally only mean one thing. Carefully wandering a little closer, past the people heading out to the sidewalk from the train that's just arrived, the packet of information that new arrivals get is a pretty clear giveaway, too.

"She's probably not going to be very helpful," Karen says, expression a little apologetic as she does. "They tend to just give people their things and let that be that."

Harley isn't really expecting anyone to talk to her at this point. The girl in the booth has clearly decided not to be helpful today, which means she's going to have to figure it out for herself. There's a map of some kind and keys, which makes her feel like it's a kind of treasure hunt. That in turn makes her a little wary. Treasure hunts are fun, but there's no telling what the prize is this time and she's entirely without back-up.

It comes as a relief, though, when someone tries to help. She turns to face her, wide-eyed. "That's no kind of an introduction," she says. "What kind of place is this anyway?" The woman says tend to like it's a pattern, which means this isn't just something that happened to Harley. Other people have shown up like this, then, wherever this is. Maybe the woman will know which train she needs to take to get back to her own time and Pam's side where she belongs. Even the way the American dresses makes it clear that she's not anywhere she's supposed to be. Or, rather, that she's not any time she's meant to be in, which would be exciting if it were deliberate. She's not so wild about just being thrown into whatever this is, though, especially alone.

This conversation is never an easy one to have. Karen has only gone through it a couple of times, but she never really feels anything less than guilty about it, though she's only the messenger and not really responsible for it at all. Still, it isn't an easy thing to hear. Not being able to go home would be bad enough on its own, but showing up here at all ought to be impossible, and the lack of answers is nearly maddening. After more than a year here, she isn't any closer to finding out who or what is behind all of this than she was the night she arrived herself. She's a little lucky, at least, in that she doesn't mind it here, has built for herself a good life, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't like to know how any of this is happening at all.

"A very, very strange one," she answers, nose wrinkling slightly. The woman has an unusual, distinctive look to her, but given the sorts of things she's gotten used to, both back home and here, she isn't particularly fazed by that. Even if that weren't the case, it wouldn't be the most pressing concern right now anyway. "I can tell you what's going on, but you should know that it's going to sound crazy."

Harley considers that and shrugs. "I just woke up on a train in a place I don't know and found this envelope with my name on it," she points out, clearly not minding that whatever this woman has to tell her is going to be nuts. She doesn't want her to have to feel bad just about telling the truth. "I already figured it was gonna be crazy."

Besides, she's good with crazy. Her only concern isn't how weird all this is; it's whether and how she can get out of here and back to Pam-a-Lamb and the rest. Right now, with how bizarre all this is, it seems like a valid worry. She got whisked out of her love's arms to somewhere new; there's every possibility she'll be stuck here. She doesn't do a whole lot with magic, but she suspects that's exactly what she's dealing with.

At least she seems to be taking better to the fact of showing up here at all than most people seem to. Karen still doubts that anything she has to say about Darrow will be particularly well-received, but for now, it's something, and a hell of a lot better than trying to convince someone that something that shouldn't be possible is. She's been there before, and it's never pleasant, maybe especially because she can't blame them for thinking as much.

This saves her a little bit of trouble on that front, if nothing else. Still, she isn't anything less than apologetic when she speaks again. "It's called Darrow," she explains. "People... show up like you did. Very suddenly and without warning."

"Darrow, huh?" Harley echoes, thinking that over. "Can't say I've ever heard of it." It seems like the kind of place that would get talked about, too, with everyone just showing up out of the blue like that. But then, maybe they only talk about it in whispers that haven't yet reached her ears. She has a bad feeling about this, though. She's known some good magicians, she really has, some lovely women who worked with magic, so it's not like she assumes everyone's like the belle of the bog, whipping up potions in the bayou fog. Not all magic is bad; it's like any other power, something that depends on who's wielding it. But that doesn't make this seem any better or more trustworthy.

And people might not be talking because they might not be coming home.

"No offense, 'cause you seem real nice and everything, but what's the fastest way outta this joint?"

"Yeah, I hadn't, either," Karen says, shaking her head. As far as she's aware, no one has. She doesn't know if that makes it more or less strange, but she does know that she wants to be careful with her words, not to throw too much at a new arrival at once, even if she does seem to be taking it better than most might. The rest is more important, anyway. Only practice at hearing that very question keeps her from flinching at the sound of it, knowing this news is almost never well-received. Save for the people with nothing to go back to, no one likes being told that they can't go home again. She's happy here now, or something like it, not particularly interested in going back to New York, but it took her a while to arrive at that conclusion. That first night, she'd mostly just been confused and frightened and frustrated, lucky only to have a comforting presence to see her through it.

She can almost hear Tony refuting that description of himself, but for her, it had been true enough. He'd made all the difference in the world.

"And that's, uh, kind of the thing. Once you're here... No one's figured a way out. You just show up, you're here, and that's it." She pauses a beat, then adds for good measure, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Harley sighs, "I had a feeling you might say something like that." It's not this woman's fault. She's probably in exactly the same sort of situation, showing up out of the blue with no way home. That's not something Harley can blame her for. It's not like she orchestrated this whole situation, far as she can tell. Sure, she's seen sweet faces twist and turn into something darker; there's no telling what some people are hiding. But Harley trusts her gut and right now it's telling her to take this one at face value.

Which means that she's here for who knows how long. Maybe forever, and that's a scary thought. Things were just getting good again. The war may be far from over, but they've cut out a safe corner of the world, blooming, flourishing. She's found love. It's not an easy thing to walk away from, even when forced to. She hopes, instinctively, desperately, that Pam's on the next train here. She'd be fine with forever that way. They'd find their own adventures.

She sighs and holds up the envelope. "So what is all this then? I don't recognize this metal thing."

Karen shouldn't be relieved. It's a shitty situation no matter how one looks at it, except for people who came from really terrible circumstances, so she wouldn't have blamed the woman for having a stronger reaction to the news. It definitely saves her a hell of a lot of trouble, though. Trying to convince people of something that should be impossible isn't an easy task, not least because she's fully aware of the lack of logic involved. She wouldn't have believed it either, if not for the fact of everything that was in front of her and that it was coming from someone she already knew of, if not knew personally, and had every reason to trust.

A lot of people have said a lot of things about Tony Stark, but he's honest where it counts, a better man than a lot of people have made him out to be. At least he always has been with her, and at times when she's needed it most. That goes a long way for her.

"The metal thing — that little square? — is a cell phone. Did they... not have them where you're from?" she asks, and then tries to suppress a wince, changing her approach slightly. "Where are you from? Or... I guess when might be just as good a question."

Later, Harley decides, she can be upset. When she's found somewhere safe to hide away and she knows what's going on, she can curl up by herself and lament her new situation and everything she's lost. Right now, though, she knows she's got to keep it together. There's no good that comes of falling apart here with some stranger. It's tough not to, but she can do this. She can hide behind the white greasepaint with her painted smile and survive this, too.

"It's a phone?" she asks, her surprise and momentary delight distracting enough to make staying collected easy. "Like a telephone?" She turns it over in her hands, envelope tucked under her arm, head cocked to the side. It's shiny, all glass and metal, and she's never seen anything quite like it.

Too bad she doesn't have a phone number for Pam. Maybe interdimensional calls would work for her.

"I was just in Leningrad," she continues. "1942. When am I now? 'cause this is definitely some kinda time travel."

"Yeah, a telephone," Karen says, nodding, letting herself smile a little at that. At least it isn't all dismal news that she has to share; at least it seems as if some of this is being met with interest rather than just worry or disbelief. She isn't naïve, she's sure that this won't be easy to swallow regardless, but it could be worse. She wouldn't be able to blame this woman if it were more poorly received. For the moment, she tries just to focus on the simple facts, the answers she can give even if she doesn't know the reasoning behind any of them. "Just... a little portable one. It lets you do a lot more with it, too. Take pictures, play games, send people little written messages..."

She shakes her head, knowing she could go on but that it probably won't mean much without a little more of an explanation. "It definitely is some kind of time travel, you're right. It's 2017 here. There's a lot that's changed."

Harley's eyes widen at that and she leans instinctively toward the woman. "2017?" she echoes, awestruck. It's so improbable that it takes a moment for the dismay to wash over her. That's 75 years between her and the others, between her and Pam, and it's hard to imagine how she's going to overcome a gap like that and get back. Because there's sure to be a way back. There always is. It's just not going to be easy or obvious or maybe even possible for her to achieve on her own. But this is a big distance to cross. She hardly even knows how she's going to catch up on everything that's changed.

But she'll have to. She isn't just going to wander blind. She's going to learn as much as she can about everything she can. As distressing as this might be, it has the potential to be exciting, too, and she's going to cling to that. She won't let herself get dragged down. She's been alone before; she can do it again.

"Geez, where do you even start catching up? I've never time-traveled before."

Edited 2017-10-27 02:57 (UTC)

"I've never time-traveled," Karen says, a little apologetic, "so I can't really help you on that front. I can kind of give you the rundown, though, show you around a little if you want." It seems like the least she can do. No one should be left to try to take all of this in on their own, especially with so much time to try to catch up on. She'd been helped the night she arrived; it seems only fair that she help someone else in turn, knowing all too well what a strange adjustment this is. Even for the people who take better to this than most, it isn't easy. She would be crazy to think otherwise.

Suddenly remembering herself, she lets out a soft, self-deprecating little laugh. "I'm Karen, by the way," she says. "Karen Page."

"Hiya, Karen," Harley says brightly. "I'm Harley Quinn! Pleased to meetcha." In spite of the situation, she really is. Karen seems swell; she's really nice and helpful, and it can't be easy to deal with someone who's new not only to this place but this time. She doesn't have to offer to show Harley around, but she does, and it means something. Even if Harley could try and figure all this out on her own, she'd rather have the help. Besides, being thrown into what may or may not be another dimension is no reason to be rude.

"And that'd be swell. I wouldn't know where to start all on my own." She wonders how long Karen has been here, and if it's rude to ask.

It's surprising, though not unpleasantly so, to hear that sort of cheerfulness in a situation like this. Karen decides that she likes her for it, what she can only guess is a determined optimism, something she's had to rely on more than a few times herself. She smiles and says, "It's nice to meet you, too," meaning it entirely. Harley may look a little unusual, but that's nothing compared to some of the things and people she's seen before, and she seems sweet. Even if Karen didn't already want to help, she thinks this would make her want all the more to.

"And, yeah, it's... a lot to take in. I could show you to your building first? You're — If you look in the folder, there should be a key and an address. It's to an apartment. Saves the trouble of having to try to find a place to stay."

Harley's brow raises at that. "Well, that's sure thoughtful," she says, though there's a wryness in her tone. In a way, it's actually pretty creepy, just like the ID with her picture on it. Even so, she figures, it's the least whoever's behind this could do. She's just been kidnapped; they ought to at least give her a place to stay.

So she digs into the envelope, pulling out a key, rooting around until she comes up with card to go with it. "Number 19 Chelsea Cloisters," she says. "You know where that is?"

Thoughtful is only one of several words that Karen would use to describe what happens when a person shows up here, but she doesn't think she needs to spell that out. The circumstances alone make it clear enough, and there's no sense in trying to drive home how weird all of this is when it speaks for itself, especially upon arrival. Instead, she nods, because attempting to offer some assistance is something she can do, and no one should be left to try to figure all of this out for themselves.

"Yeah, I know it," she says, nodding. "I'd be glad to take you there, if you want."

"Well, I don't wanna put you out," Harley says. Karen's been real nice already, just stopping to talk to her and explain this place (as much as it seems like anyone could). She doesn't want to pull her away from whatever it is she was doing before she happened across Harley. That said, she doesn't know how she's meant to find this place on her own. It's not like she knows this city in the least. Figuring it out is going to take some time, even if she thinks she saw a map in the envelope.

She opens it again now to look for that. "It'd sure help, though, if you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Karen promises, shaking her head. It isn't as if she'd been particularly busy before wandering by the train station, or like there's anything else she could be doing that can't be put off for a little while. There are plenty of people who could give directions, and, as she recalls, a map with the belongings that people get upon arrival, but she still wouldn't want just to turn someone loose in a strange new city with barely so much as a word.

She keeps thinking, mostly, of the night she arrived, injured and feeling like she'd lost everyone she cared about all at once, and how Tony had given her a ride into the city and then brought her home with him, fed her, let her use his shower even though she had an apartment of her own (and in his building, no less). Granted, she has no intention of sharing a shower with a woman she's only just met and whom she knows next to nothing about, but she thinks she can do a little more than the bare minimum here.

"You're not putting me out, I promise."

There's a lot of things people will do for the sake of politeness, Harley has found, but politeness has its limits. Most people would stop about here. Granted, most people aren't welcoming someone into an entirely new dimension, so maybe that changes the rules here, but it's still going above and beyond in Harley's book.

"Great," she says brightly. "Alright, Chelsea Cloisters then. Lead the way." It sounds like a damn nunnery, but it's probably just a name, she figures. Americans don't have many of those. Of course, this is a different world, not necessarily America, despite Karen's accent. "Whereabouts you from then?"

"New York," Karen answers, a response that's become instinctive since she got here. Maybe it isn't wholly accurate, but New York feels more like home than Vermont ever did, and has less of a story behind it, too. She doesn't want to get into what living there was like any more than she wants to talk about why she left. Like so much else, it's better left buried. "Hell's Kitchen. But I've been here for... a while, now."

Starting in the direction she knows Chelsea Cloisters to be, glancing over to make sure Harley is still with her, she asks, "What about you?"

"Nailed it," Harley says cheerfully. "Knew you were American, even in the middle of this madness. I'm from London, love, though I've bounced around a bit. Just came from Leningrad." And then there's the massive time difference. She doesn't want to think about it too much, because it'd be easy to get bogged down in fright over something like that and she's got to keep a calm head on her shoulders. It's impossible not to, though. Just walking down the street with Karen, everything is so different from the architecture to the cars to the way people are dressed.

"That's a long way," Karen says lightly, head tilting to the side. To her — a small-town girl at heart, in spite of everything she's seen and done over the past few years — it sounds terribly exciting. Once, she hadn't been able to imagine a world outside of Vermont at all. After moving to New York, she hadn't been able to imagine herself living anywhere else; certainly she would never have gotten to travel. Here, of course, she's stuck in one place. Granted, she's never had any aspirations about seeing the world, either, but it's fascinating even so. "I never really got to do any traveling."

"And now you're here," Harley says, pulling a face. "That's a shame. I hope you get to give it a go one day. I've been traveling all over the place lately and it's..." She smiles. "Let's say it broadens your horizons. 'Fun' would be a bit more apt if we weren't in the middle of a world war, I reckon."

She tries to convince herself this might even be a good thing, being here. She's at least out of the thick of it. But Pam's not here, and that makes a whole hell of a lot of difference.

"I... Yeah, I'd imagine that would make a difference," Karen says, nose wrinkling in turn, though she's careful not to sound overly weighed down by the mention of it. It's the sort of thing that could very easily be too serious — and rightfully so — but that doesn't mean Harley wants to give it that sort of time and attention now. There's so much else at hand, it might very well be too much. "Probably not the most ideal way to see the world."

She can easily imagine herself doing so all the same. Trouble and danger, they don't exactly follow her around; she goes rushing headfirst into them, dealing with the consequences later. "Is that why you were traveling? The war?"

"You betcha," chirps Harley. She looks around as she walks and talks, almost too distracted to walk straight. Everything here is so strange — not too different, just different enough. "Well, it started as a trip to meet up with my ex-man, but that was a bust, so it turned into a whole helping hide people from Nazis thing." She's not always the best at hiding; she has a tendency to stand out. But where people — her people — needed help hiding from monsters, she wasn't about to do anything but give it. "And then it was a defending a city under siege kinda thing."

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[debut] if you go chasing rabbits and you know you're going to fall

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