* J *

Part Nineteen: Chapter 139: Happenstance

The new hideout has thus far proven to be absent of the Joker's dead wife's hallucination/spector. Those were problems the Joker preferred to just forget about all together. She was dead to the Joker. Remembering her was in no way the best thing for his fragile sanity. The Joker himself didn't know what was best for him, so he used practicality to make the choice to leave the Falcone home. But surprisingly, he wasn't being entirely selfish. He actually factored in what would be best for Harley and the child. Not seeing his dead wife was simply best for all parties subjected to his madness.

However, now in hindsight, the Joker can see that the manner in which he procured the house wasn't sitting well with Harley. She's obeyed him without question, she killed when he commanded. But she'd hardly said a dozen words in the last three days they had been in the new house. That crawled under the Joker's skin. Wasn't she grateful for the sacrifices that he was making for her? For the child? It is, after all, the Joker who was dying. He hasn't the time to contribute to idle indecisions and doubts. The Joker's days are limited, and there was no way of knowing how much time he had left.

The Joker didn't have the time to make guesses as what was going through that mind of hers. So he observes her carefully. Harley always gave away what she was thinking. But then, the Joker found her to be an open book to him. He watches as Harley removes several items from their new master bedroom. She takes the pictures of the family that had owned the house down and boxes them. He couldn't help but see the way she hesitated when she looked at the children. She showed regret.

The Joker didn't understand the big deal. She's killed children before, probably just as many as the Joker had. This was the first time Harley seemed to show remorse. Maybe it was some sort of instinctive reaction that came with being pregnant. Maybe Harley wanted to embrace parenthood and be the best mother she could be. But what if she wanted the Joker to do the same? He finds it hard to prepare for the child. He might not live long enough to even meet his namesake. But what if he does live long enough? Does he have it in him to be a good father?

The Joker neatly folds their things and puts things in rightful places. He looks up at Harley as she starts throwing out the families clothes. "So is this change in you like a hormonal thing? Or is something bothering you?" The Joker asks her with a sigh.

Harley knows that exasperated sigh. She knows he's noticed the cold shoulder she's given him for the past several days. She could tell he was running out of patience with her. But she knows he just doesn't get it, he doesn't understand. "Ya murdered them two lil kids. Ya didn't hesitate, ya didn't even blink. They didn't havta die Mistah J."

The Joker cuts her a cold sideways glance. "They could identify us. Why you being so sanctimonious? It's not like you haven't killed your fair share of kids," he rolls his eyes. "I mean, what the fuck were we supposed to do with them? Adopt them?"

"No, but someone else could have," Harley shrugs.

"No one adopts kids over two," the Joker stares at her as if she were selling herself a illusion. A denial. "That's a topic I know all about, in case you forgotten our therapy sessions." His voice pitches, "I did those children a favor! I saved them from the hell of foster care! I spared them agonies you'll never understand my dear!" He gets right in her face, "I showed them mercy!" He shouts at her and flays his arms.