Hey, I've kind of timed this to finish up the week of Christmas, okay? plus I'm also updating another story. So yeah. Part 2/5


Part II: The Plot Thickens

When Harley walked in the door, the last think he expected her to bring back was a baby. Maybe that was why he didn't say anything about it at first. She told one of the new guys where to put her haul, and then walked to the couch to sit down beside him. The kid was asleep on her shoulder, and Harley's smile, though the same size as usual, contained a bit of apprehension. "Hi Puddin'!" She said as usual, and he wanted to grit his teeth. Why "puddin'?"

"Hey Harl," he said, smiling. The scars at the corners of his mouth pulled. He gave the tiny kid a pointed look. "Whatdidja find at the, ah, mall?"

"I got some shoes and things. Girl stuff. And guess what!"

He guessed what. "You found a kid."

"Yeah! The poor thing was wandering around the perfume department, crying for her mommy. I bet the witch just left the little baby there for dead! So I brought her home. Isn't she cute?" Harley beamed at the girl she carried.

He doubted that was the whole story, or even the correct story. But dear Harley had a thing for bending reality to fit her needs. Also exaggeration. He had no idea if the tyke was cute; all he could see was that she was blond.

"Can I keep her?" Harley said in a small, hopeful voice.

Her blue eyes had a pitifully hopeful puppy dog look that somehow he just could not eradicate, no matter how hard he tried. He licked his lips and scars and thought about it. "Make sure she doesn't howl all the time, or I'll give her a reason to scream bloody murder."

He watched, smirking, as Harley's face literally glowed with happiness. "Oh, no! She won't cry. She's a good baby, aren't you honey?" She rubbed the tiny back. "We have to think of names! What about Tracie?"

He got up from the couch for the kitchen. He said she could keep the kid, not involve him. She picked up the kid and followed him even so. Lifting her head, the little girl blinked her blue eyes blearily. Her face was smudged white on one side from contact with Harley's cheek. Giggles burst forth from his harlequin. "You look just like Mistah J and Harley, Tracie!"

The tiny one's brow twisted quizzically.

"Harley," Harley said, pointing to herself. "Mistah J," she said, pointing to him. The kid twisted in her grasp to get a better look at him.

" 'Day," she said in baby talk, surprisingly not screaming or throwing a fuss when she saw his face. She turned back to Harley. "Bah-bie."

His laugh echoed in the room as he cackled and hooted from his chair. She had just said Barbie. Hahahaha! Harley was reminiscent of a Barbie doll, when you thought about it. He laughed again.

The little girl stared at him, unsure what had brought on his onslaught of hysterics.

His harlequin shot him a black look. "It wasn't that funny."

Maybe this kid would be good for some laughs after all.

Harley had fed the kid on her lap all through supper, keeping a running monologue going. "You know, maybe we oughtta get some baby stuff. And some toys. And…" He had tuned her out. She was useful in her own way, but he sometimes forgot that.

After supper, she had announced her intent to give the kid a bath. "C'mon, Clementine, let's give you a bath."

He had raised an eyebrow. "I thought her name was Tracie."

"I changed it," Harley explained. "Clemmie, stop playing with the babies and come here." The kid had found the hyena's bed and was petting them. They were quite docile, panting like dogs and being as non-threatening as all get-out. He might need to replace them soon.

Harley changed into a pair of shorts and tank top in preparation to get waterlogged. "Bath time," she sang out, picking up the kid and walking her into the kitchen. He tilted his head, watching her legs as she walked through the door. "Don't you, ah, give people baths in the bathtub?" he called after her.

"Not babies. You give them baths in the sink," she yelled back. He wasn't going to ask how she knew that bit of information. The hyenas saw their chance with their mistress out of the room. They bolted for the couch, where they were usually denied access. The Joker rubbed their heads and then cuffed them to make them sit down and be quiet. The radio snapped on in the kitchen and soft Christmas music burbled out of it, along with Harley's warbling and occasional splashes. The TV set in front of him hummed softly, playing the Gotham news.

The running water stopped. "Puddin'?" Harley called.

He turned to face the door. She was standing in the doorway holding the kid, who was wrapped in a towel. "Do I put her old clothes back on her now?"

How should he know? "It's not like you've got another option." She had a big wet streak down the front of her shirt, making it stick to her body.

She frowned. "Do you think stores would still be open? I could send one of the boys to get somethin'."

"You'd have to put her in her old clothes in the meantime. She'll be fine 'til tomorrow." Tomorrow? What was he saying? This kid was going to be a high maintenance thing. Harley didn't know what she was getting into.

"Okay. Here we go, Bluebell." As she disappeared back into the kitchen, the Joker rolled his black-rimmed eyes. How many times was she going to rename this kid? Wait, he didn't want to know. Here she was back again, with the kid dressed and hair wet. Snapping her fingers at the hyenas, Harley commanded, "DOWN." They slunk back to their bed obediently. They did what she said because she was the only one who remembered to feed them. When she put the kid down, the blond tyke followed them, squealing in delight as they licked her ear.

The Joker grabbed Harley's hand and pulled her down on the couch beside him. He grabbed her tightly around the waist and kissed her hard. He let her loose again and resumed watching the television screen. His harlequin curled up beside him and put her head on his shoulder, sighing lightly. For a long time the only sound was the newscaster on the screen.