"Hush little baby, don't say a world,
Momma's gonna kill for you the whole damn world"
It was staring at her. Staring and laughing, the two little red lines a simultaneous challenge and a promise. They were red, red like her hair, red like his smile, red like the blood on both of their hands. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Weren't those the only two options, though? She thought she could remember something else, something from before she had been herself and she tried to pin it down but blood and fantasy fogged her memories, clouded her mind, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She remembered how to smile.
"And if they don't laugh at our jokes,
Momma's gonna stab out their goddamn throats"
She was smiling, not the gentle and sincere smile one would expect from a mother but the crazed, mad smile that her Mistah J so often wore like a mask, a smile of pure insanity. She held her stomach, exposed by her costume. There was no bump, not yet, but she thought she could imagine what it would look like, further along, a great big huge thing hanging out of the gap between her corset and her belt, bulging like a pure white blimp. She giggled.
"And if they start to run away,
Momma's gonna paint the streets with blood"
She was waiting. Waiting for the Batman. That was what she was doing, right? Yes, she thought it was, between the fractured glass of her mind she thought she could recall that. The test had fallen from her limp, chalky fingers to clatter against the ground with an empty finality. Why was she doing that? Why was she waiting for the Batman when she should be with Mistah J, her cooing over the life in her belly while he tried to cut it out of her? Because Mistah J had asked her to, that's right. He asked, but he really commanded, and she did as she was told, because it made him happy and if it made him happy then it made her happy. His harlequin.
"And once the blood starts to wash off,
Momma's gonna blow some more heads off"
She giggled again, her voice high and childish, eyes wide with delusion. He was grow up just like his daddy, she was sure. With that lovely green hair. She imagined herself tousling it, white on green, as she handed him a grenade and taught him how to pull the pin. Yes, just like his daddy with the green hair and the bloody lips and the beautiful, beautiful smile, stretching up his lips too far to show just how happy he was. Her own lips curled open in a cruel mockery of a smile.
"And if the world still doesn't laugh,
Momma's gonna go and poison them"
Or if it was a girl she would grow up just like her momma, hair tied into the pigtails that her mother wore, that her father raged at, pulling her hair, pulling them loose from her skull. With the bleached white skin and the bi-color hair, maybe she would grow up like her momma, hair black or red or green. Little harlequin. Little bitty harlequin, another toy for her mad father to play with if she survived the knife plunged into her mother's belly.
"And once the poison does its job,
Momma's gonna show you your legacy"
How would Mistah J react? Probably he wouldn't understand, probably he'd do that funny joke he always played where he tried to kill her, knives or bullets ripping through her chalky skin and unleashing a torrent of red, red on white on green. Red like his lips, red like her hair, red like the two little lines staring up at her from the floor. She was distracted by a crashing sound, not so far away, and she jumped up, bouncing excitedly. After she was finished, she could go find Mistah J, and tell him about the baby and then they could life happily ever after with a little joker or harlequin.
"And if the world still tries to fight,
Momma's gonna burn their houses down"
She picked herself up from the floor, the dirty dirty floor, the floor that rubbed grime against her bright white skin and smeared it with filth. The two little red lines stared up at her, right in front of her eyes, surrounded by a puddle of vomit. Was it hers? She couldn't remember, couldn't see anything through the shattered glass of her mind's eye. Her stomach ached and throbbed. She sat up with a gasp. The baby, the little clown she'd only just learned about. She scrabbled for the box of pregnancy tests with her free hand, clutching at her hurting stomach with the other, and staggered into the bathroom.
One red line. One. No, no that couldn't be right. There had been two. She emptied the box into the dirty dirty floor, snatched up another. One. One red line. Another. One red line. Another. One. Another. One. She gave a gasping son and buried her face in her hands and in a rare moment of clarity an image flashed behind her eyes of the Bat, the Bat throwing her against the wall, pain shooting through her stomach. A bruise was forming, ugly ugly ugly purple-green on white, purple where there should be a bump, pain and death where there should be life, where there had been life.
She hugged her stomach, hugged the dead baby inside of her, and cried.
"And if you grow up with his smile,
Momma's gonna be so... proud of you..."
Hey! So, if you're unaware, the lyrics used in this story are from a version of "Hush Little Baby" sung by Harley over the credits of Arkham City (I think) if you find her positive pregnancy test. In the DLC, you can go back and find a pile of negative pregnancy tests- the commonly accepted story is that the first one was a false positive, but I much prefer this version. Please review if you liked it!