Chapter 4 – Little Causes

The Joker wandered through the apartment of the club, taking in the silence with a small smile. Silence was an uncommon commodity these days and he would take full advantage of it. He got himself a drink and went to his room and sat at the desk. He started to take apart the guns and he cleaned every nook and cranny. He heard a gentle grumble and looked over his shoulder to see Harley asleep with their son on her chest.

So much had changed. So much had happened.

The sight of Harley with a child should've been one that sent shivers through him, but instead it pleased him. Whilst his son had been on the small side at birth, he was a little fighter and he grew stronger with every day that passed. He heard the baby grunt and whimper and he stood, dropping the dismantled gun pieces to the desk. He walked over to Harley and he lifted the child from her. She whined and curled onto her side, cuddling the pillows and blankets against her. Joker smirked and walked away with his son on his arm. The baby's head was up against his elbow and he supported his son's bottom and hips in his hands. He sat down in his chair and he stared at the child.

"You, my little Prince, have made your mother very, very happy," Joker said slowly and he chose his words carefully. "And given your father a real problem with stomach ulcers. How does one small pale pink thing become such a weight on my shoulders? Hmm? How did you, small sack of flesh, become the centre of the world for my dear harlequin?"

The baby gurgled and settled in his father's arms. How was he so comfortable? No child should want to be this close to the Joker, especially not his own.

"You're lucky that you're my son," Joker growled. "It's about the only thing that's keeping you alive when you cry at night, you know that, right?" the baby stared up at his father and tried to lift his head a little. Joker watched him, a curious feeling of pride swirled through him. He didn't understand it at all. He wasn't sure he liked it. The kid was becoming a weakness, one he wasn't comfortable with. Harley was the female, she should be looking after their offspring, that's what female animals did…. Right?

"You shouldn't want me, you want your mother," he snorted. The Baby just stared back before he stuffed his fist into his mouth. "Human offspring are entirely pathetic and defenceless. How are you supposed to turn into the Prince of Gotham? You can't even hold your own bottle, let alone a gun."

"Puddin', he's three weeks old," Harley laughed tiredly from the bed. "It's gonna be a while before he can hold a gun." The Joker stood and walked back to Harley and tried to give her back the baby.

"Take him, Harley," he growled. "Dammit, just take him."

"It's good for both of you," Harley insisted and gently pushed the Joker's hands back towards him as he put the baby towards her. "He wants you, that's clear, you want him you just… don't like that you want him."

"Take the damn baby, Harley," Joker hissed.

"No, puddin', he's your son and you're going to be the one he learns from," Harley said calmly and she stroked her son's hair. "Plus I need a bath and he's not due to feed again for another hour or so."

"Harley, don't you dare!" Joker snapped as Harley rolled out of the other side of the bed. She pulled her silk robe around her and she walked towards the bathroom. "Quinzel! Get back here and take your child!"

"I'll be out in half an hour," Harley chuckled and closed the door in the Joker's face.

"You… insufferable, juvenile, foolish, senseless little girl!" Joker shouted.

"Love you too, puddin', enjoy your time with your son," Harley called through the door. The Clown glared at the wood and kicked the door when he heard the tap turn on. He walked away and sat back down at the desk. He looked down at the baby and he growled angrily.

"It's about time you learned the parts of a gun," Joker grunted. He dropped down on his chair and he pulled apart his purple hand gun. He rested a cloth on the baby's tummy and started cleaning the weapon. He heard Harley's out of tune singing come from the bathroom and he rolled his eyes.

"This is going to be a long half hour, kiddo," the King of Gotham muttered to his son.

.
.

.
Six months earlier
.
.

Samantha Drake was a 28 year old woman with a very ordinary life. She'd been a good kid, a good teenager, good at school, good with college and good at her job. Everything had been just… good. She knew that she should thank her lucky stars, an easy life in Gotham wasn't exactly easy to get. Not even the rich got it easy in the city that seemed to poison itself. She ran her hand through her long black hair and stared at the reflection in her bathroom sink.

"Girl, you need a holiday," Samantha mumbled and she rubbed her face before she pulled a brush through her hair. She'd been so bored of good that her career choice had rather thrown her parents and when she'd announced that she would be working at Arkham Asylum, the reception was very mixed. Her brother thought it was a great idea, her parents… not so much. They had called her crazy and shunned her for a few months until they came round. That had been tame compared to when Samantha had brought Michaela home for the first time.

Who knew a family that had always encouraged self-respect, acceptance and inclusion, could be so vile and hateful just because of who Samantha had fallen in love with. But eventually, Samantha had accepted her parents would never want her back as long as she was with Michaela and they had recently celebrated their 8 year anniversary. Michaela was a GCPD cop, she'd seen her fair share of Gotham's grim side and fully supported Samantha in her chosen path. They'd bought an apartment close to the GCPD and they lived quite happily together, again, things had returned to just good.

Samantha knew her weaknesses, she had a tendency to second-guess herself and she liked to try and think three steps ahead, ignoring that the road was crumbling at her feet. She was also desperately private and Michaela had only been to one Arkham related event. Samantha just liked a level of separation between home and work, especially with some of the faces the Asylum held. It was never good to let anything slip really.

The sound of the door to her apartment opening, pulled Samantha from her jumbled early-morning thoughts and she brushed her hair quickly before she tied it back. She'd already brushed her teeth and washed her face, so she just sorted her make-up before she left the bathroom. She left and finished buttoning up her blouse as she went to see Michaela turning on their coffee machine.

"Hey," Samantha grinned. She walked into her girlfriends arms and they shared a kiss before they hugged. They led stressful working lives so they tried to be as open and honest with each other as they possibly could.

"You're late, baby," Michaela said gently and let her bright red hair down from its pony tail.

"I don't need to get there until 10, so I've got time for breakfast," Samantha smiled. "Do you wanna go shower and I'll do something nice?"

"You cooked breakfast and dinner yesterday, let me do something for you," Michaela smiled. Samantha laughed gently and patted her other half's ass before she went to sit down at the table. She saw the front of that morning's newspaper and she flicked through it. She didn't really read any of it, it was all doom and gloom and she certainly had enough of that in her life. She was staring blankly at some opinion piece when she felt Michaela's hands on her shoulders.

"So, tell me, what's the infamous Harley Quinn like?" Michaela asked. She had short brunette hair and dark brown eyes. She was Samantha's rock, comfort and meaning. She just didn't know what she'd do without her better half.

"Everything you'd imagine her to be," Samantha sighed. "Egotistical, insane, intelligent and hopelessly in love with Joker and… very definitely pregnant."

"That is the weirdest thing I've ever thought about," Michaela chuckled. "Pregnant Harley Quinn."

"It's not half as weird as dealing with her," Samantha said carefully. "She's crazy intelligent, Meesh, so intense. You can feel her looking at your soul and taking you apart piece by piece. It's no wonder she's spun three doctors already. She's only been in 4 weeks."

"You think she's aiming for her boyfriend's record?" Michaela asked.

"No, she's… too clever to pull the same trick," Sam answered. "He wouldn't let her do that anyway. He's very possessive and any male staff that go near her either get death threats or sworn at. She damn well glows under his aggression. I've never seen co-dependence like it. The aggression and violence just makes them need each other all the more."

"She's not hurting you?"

"She's fine with me, really chatty," Samantha shrugged. "She wants to be alone with the Joker. A lot. She doesn't listen when I tell her it's not going to happen. She told me that he sneaks into her cell, but we've studied the CCTV footage, it's not happening. I'm worried that hormones are playing off her psychosis. She's… either really focussed and present or she's so damn distant that she takes 5 minutes to answer a question or reply."

"Have you seen any of Harleen?" Michaela asked.

"Not as of yet, but she's in there," Samantha answered. "I'm almost certain. Watching her behaviour on the CCTV, she has conversations with herself, her posture changes entirely and her speech pattern becomes more timid. She's an encyclopaedia of mental health problems conditions, knowing where to start is a problem and then there's the Joker…"

"How did a clever woman like Harleen Quinzel fall for an evil psychopath like the clown?" Michaela muttered and put a plate of food in front of Samantha. The psychiatrist looked at the plate with a smile, apparently her partner was hungry and had transferred that feeling to her plate. Two sunny side eggs, a couple of rashers of bacon, pancakes, hash browns, some fruit and half a bagel with cream cheese. Next came a mug of strong black coffee and finally Michaela sat down beside Samantha.

"Thanks baby," Samantha grinned and she kissed her girlfriend quickly before she tucked into the big breakfast. "Harleen has a sad history, when you start teasing it all apart, there's not much shock that she fell for a bad guy, much less the worst guy."

"How d'ya mean?" Michaela asked.

"Her dad was a petty criminal, in and out of prison on minor charges," Samantha explained and drank a bit of her coffee. "Her mother was… drunk and extremely strict with Harleen, her brother got away with anything and everything, but Harleen… no such luck. She was under tremendous pressure to get a highly paid job, got to college on a gymnastics scholarship and worked her socks off. There were rumours that she slept with professors to get her grades, but it was denied by the staff accused. Her parents weren't very affectionate or caring, her father would hit her mother, so her only experience of love was toxic already."

"We've all had hard lives as kids though," Michaela shrugged. "Not all of us have become psychopaths."

"She came to Arkham at 10, it says just for a couple of therapy sessions, but no details or notes from those sessions and she won't talk about them," Samantha sighed.

"Now that screams something going on in the family," Michaela nodded and finished off her bacon and eggs.

"Whatever it is, she won't talk to me about it yet," Samantha said. "Then the next person to show her any kindness without immediately trying to come onto her is the Joker. He makes her think he actually cares, that he's the only one who understands, sends her gifts and kisses her. Before you know it, she's taking him a machine gun, leaving open security doors so his goons can come in and… that's where it all began."

"All of this is because she's desperate to be loved?" Michaela frowned.

"And she's desperate to love him," Samantha nodded. "Now she's pregnant."

"Now she's pregnant," Michaela repeated. Silence fell between them as they finished breakfast. Michaela put the dishes with the washing and they went to sit on the couch together. Samantha curled into her and they turned the TV on for some back ground noise.

"Just be careful, babe," Michaela whispered.

"About what, honey?" Samantha frowned and looked up at her.

"Harley and the Joker. I don't want to lose you to them," Michaela said softly. Samantha reached up and brought Michaela's mouth down against hers. They stayed like this for another ten minutes before Samantha had to leave.

"I love you, Meesh, I promise, anything starts going wrong and I'll drop the case," Samantha said with a smile. "Harley's pretty, but she's not you."

"Yeah, too right," Michaela chuckled and patted Samantha's ass. "Get to work, I'd like to see you before I go back to work tonight."

"Another night shift?"

"The Bat's been busy since Joker's been away," Michaela huffed. "They go inside and all of the scum falls out of the woodwork. He keeps them all in line, works easy. It's like the teacher's walked out of a kindergarten class. Penguin's trying to claim Joker's territory, Scarecrow's been dumping barrels of fear toxin everywhere and if I see one more Riddler question mark, I'm going to travel back in time and punch whoever came up with that particular symbol." Samantha laughed and kissed her once more before she stood and pulled on her jacket. She grabbed her car keys and said another quick goodbye before she dashed down to her car.

Traffic was bad, but Samantha got to Arkham with just a couple of minutes to spare. She got into her office and was greeted with a mountain of paperwork. She checked her daily diary and saw that she was scheduled to see Harley at noon, enough time to make a good dent in all the emails and papers she had to get stuck into. Handing over patients was a nightmare and everything had to be written down twice to make sure there was consistency of reports. She was handing over 4 patients and the idea of writing 8 full length reports was enough to make her want to cry. If something didn't match, she'd have to do the whole lot again. Then there were the digital entries which also had to tally with the written documents.

"You got into this to help people, not write this crap all day," Samantha groaned. She hated this part of her job, it was boring and repetitive, it was the least interesting thing she had to do. She'd rather supervise the cleaning staff than type up these reports, but it had to be done. She got a bit too absorbed in making everything was word for word and she looked at the time finally to realise she was ten minutes late for Harley. She grabbed her lunch, a mug of coffee and rushed down to her session room. She stopped at the door and calmed herself before she walked in.

"I do apologise for being late, Harley… Harley?" Samantha asked and saw the blonde slumped down over the desk. "Hey, Harley, you okay?"

"It's called morning sickness," Harley groaned.

"But it's-"

"I know what the time is!" Harley snapped. "Sorry, sorry, I just… I'm so… when does this stop?"

"I think you've got a couple of weeks yet," Samantha answered and sat down. She set her food and drink on the table and put the back of her hand against Harley's forehead. "You're burning up, why hasn't the doctor seen you?"

"They think it's all normal," Harley mumbled and put her head back down on the table.

"Have you been able to keep anything down?" Samantha questioned and pulled her work cell phone from her file. She sent a message to the manager of the pharmacy and to the kitchens to get some food and anti-nausea tablets brought up.

"Not for days," Harley whimpered. Her body ached from head to toe thanks to being so hungry and so thirsty. Water stayed down for a few minutes, but not long enough to really help or settle her.

"How long has this been going on for?"

"A few days, I dunno," Harley shrugged. She looked up and saw Samantha's sandwich and coffee.

"I can't let you have coffee, it's not good for the baby and you're dehydrated, you need water," Samantha said, seeing Harley's gaze. She did however open up her sandwich and she offered half to the woman in front of her.

"Straight jacket, Sammie, I can't do nothin'," Harley muttered.

"Right, if I undo this, you're not going to do anything but eat the sandwich, right?" Samantha told Harley. "I'm taking a huge risk, but I can't have you collapse on my watch."

"I don't really have much strength right now to kill ya, Sammie, even if I wanted to," Harley mumbled. Samantha stood and hesitated for a second before she undid the straight jacket. The second Harley's arms and hands were free, she grabbed at the half a sandwich and started to nibble on it.

"Steady, Harls, your stomach's going to be real sore," Samantha said quickly. "Slow down, you don't want to be sick." Harley groaned in delight as she ate the chicken sandwich, it made Samantha blush lightly and she took her seat at the desk again. The sandwich didn't last long and just ten minutes later, one of the orderlies appeared with anti-nausea pills and a plate full of food as well as a bottle of cold water. She took it from him and placed it in front of Harley.

"There we go," Samantha smiled and watched as Harley ate. She found herself feeling pleased that she could make Harley's life easier, being pregnant and in Arkham couldn't be easy and no one should have to face that alone.

"That's much better, thank you, Sammie," Harley said quietly as she started to slow down eating. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Having a friend in here."

Friend? Samantha thought, I'll take friend.

.

.

.

Quincy Sharpe sat in his office and read the files that Arkham and Drake had submitted about the Joker and Harley. He smirked as he read that Harley had been defensive and offensive. Her list of problems in the asylum was only growing and he couldn't wait for her brain to fall apart. He'd helped Harley get her internship, he'd put her in the position to interview the Joker and pushed her ahead of other candidates. He'd looked out for her when Leland and Arkham thought she was in over her head.

He'd been the one to push Harleen Quinzel to the Joker. His own sick curiosity to see what the Clown would do with a young pretty female had made him force Arkham and Leland to give Harleen the file. He'd also made it no secret that Harleen 'owed' him something for the favour. She had never paid him back, instead she'd fallen dangerously for the Clown and Sharpe had never gotten the file as his payment.

And he'd never let that betrayal go.

He took his hip flask from his desk, unscrewed the lid and swigged alcohol from the metal container. It burned down his throat and he pushed his fist against his chest. He shook his head and continued to read what Drake had gotten so far.

"Oh Harleen, how far off the beaten path you've strayed," Quincy chuckled. He took another gulp of his flask and turned his chair to the window so he could look out over the asylum. There was a knock at the door, but he didn't turn to look at it.

"Ah, Nancy, thank you for bringing me some lunch and tea," Sharpe smiled.

"Well, that'd be nice if it was Nancy, but she's a little bit… tied up at the moment." The Warden froze at the sound of the voice. It was cold, quiet and full of anger and hatred.

"How did you get out of your cell?" Sharpe demanded and finally turned to face the man.

"That's for me to know and you to have nightmares about. But I think we need to have a little chat about your family, because they're in a really… difficult situation."

"What have you done to them, Joker?" Sharpe hissed.

"Nothing yet," Joker purred and gave Sharpe a tablet with a video of his wife and children surrounded by masked thugs with guns. "But that may well change unless you do absolutely everything that I say. Understand? Sharpie?"

.
.

.

.
Well done for getting to the end of this one haha! I think this may be the longest chapter that I've uploaded yet haha! Mr J has Quincy Sharpe on a short leash, eh? What else is a Clown to do?

Reviews = Love :D