Crazy in Love
Amelia sipped her tea, the headline from today's newspaper glaring up at her, making a lump form in her throat.
Gotham buries one of its finest.
She wiped her eyes as Alfred walked into the room. He saw her pained expression and held out his arms to her.
"I can't believe he's dead," she cried into his shirt front, "And it's all my fault!"
Alfred patted her back softly.
"I think you'll find it's the fault of that raving lunatic, not yours Miss West," he said and she pulled away.
"But if I hadn't of come home…" she said miserably and the older man shook his head.
"Well if you're looking at it that way, we should never have had a party, the Joker should have never escaped from Arkham, Harold Napier should have never held you and your Mother prisoner all those years ago,"
Amelia smiled grimly. "Ok, I see your point,"
"Everything happens for a reason Miss West. Its like destiny, you can't fight it. How do you know that you were not meant to walk in right at that moment?"
Amelia shrugged and returned to her seat at the kitchen counter.
Alfred folded his arms behind his back.
"It seems to me that all of this has happened because of one person. That person is the one who broke our clown friend out of Arkham, she stalked you in Metropolis, she killed your father,"
"Why does she hate me so much?" Amelia thought aloud.
Alfred made a noise that sounded like an 'hmm'.
"I should think that's obvious, Miss West,"
Amelia, Bruce and Alfred had been dumbfounded at the amount of coverage this crazy woman was getting in the news. It seemed that everyday Harleen Quinzell was making herself more and more prominent, racking up a body count to nearly twenty innocent civilians and amazingly the Joker, was no where to be seen.
Now Harlequin, as she was being hailed in the papers, had dropped off the scene entirely and that made Amelia uneasy.
It had been almost a week since the party, a week of being trapped in Bruce's underground apartment. She had to sit there night after night, watching tid bits of news, waiting for her name to be mentioned.
Of course now the whole city knew she was alive and she was bombarded with new, cruel headlines everyday.
Where is Amelia West? Gotham's Princess Alive. Will Amelia make an appearance at West Burial? Joker Stalks Amelia West. Joker & West Lovers?
To make the situation even more unbearable, today her father was being buried and she couldn't attend.
Bruce had calmly explained to her the night before that it was a bad idea. The Joker would be waiting for her to make an appearance.
Over the last week, feelings between herself and Bruce were strained to say the least. After that kiss, Amelia had hoped that it would be the last of it. She loved Bruce, she really did, but even if she had no feelings for Jack, she was in no position to be taking on a relationship.
She thought back to her brief encounter with Nathan, the nice, sweet male nurse at her school. Even then her thoughts were conflicted, night after night, dreams of Jack plaguing her, keeping her awake.
That had ended before it had begun. If she couldn't make it work with him, how would she fare with a man like Bruce, who despite being wonderful and handsome was extremely complicated.
The fact that he dressed up as a Bat night after night screamed issues at her and she had enough of her own. What woman would be right for Bruce if she wasn't? She realised sadly that she and probably Rachel, had been the only two women in the world who could ever really understand him.
Amelia thought that she had made her feelings clear but that didn't stop the longing looks she kept noticing across the dinner table. It hadn't stopped him sitting slightly too close to her on the couch when they watched television.
The funny thing was, that would have never bothered her before now.
During the day she kept herself busy, read, cleaned the enormous space, and made dinner for them both occasionally, though that seemed to put Alfred out when she did that.
In turn Bruce had offered to teach her a few 'moves' for defence purposes, he'd claimed. Amelia wondered if it was just a chance to spend time with her.
Still the lessons had been useful and she could disarm him pretty easily, though she wondered how much of that was Bruce being kind and letting her win.
Later that afternoon, Abbott West's funeral was being televised and Amelia couldn't bear to watch it. She hauled herself up in her room and sobbed into her pillow.
When she'd cried herself into a deep sleep, loosing a few hours, Bruce had returned and pushed her door open.
"Amelia…wake up!" he whispered urgently and she blinked her eyes.
"What is it?" she asked sleepily.
"There's something you have to see on the news, quickly!"
Groaning she got out of bed and followed him into the living room, where Alfred was standing in front of the television, arms folded and his face grave.
The broadcaster was reading out a bulletin and his fuzzy headed Amelia looked up at Bruce, whose face was tight with stress.
"Bruce, what's going on?"
"Shh," he hushed her nodding at the screen, "Listen,"
"We have just received this video message from what appears to be the Harlequin. Viewers are warned this is quite distressing to watch," the broadcaster said and then the screen flipped to black and white.
Amelia's eyes widened in horror, her hand flew up to her mouth.
"Oh…no…" she whispered.
The video appeared to be of an old factory, but the image was shaking around so much that it was hard to make out. A little girl was bound to a chair, tears streaming down her small face.
"Now, sweetie pie," came the sickly, high pitched voice, "What's your name?"
The little girl choked. "Greta…Williams," she squeaked.
"Do you miss your daddy Greta?" the woman laughed and Amelia shivered.
The woman turned the camera to her face and Amelia heard the sharp intake of breath from Alfred.
The face paint was old and worn but disturbingly familiar. Tracks of thick mascara lashed down the woman's cheeks, making her appear deranged.
"Harley," Bruce whispered, "He really did push her over the edge,"
"Now listen to me you self righteous, little bitch," Harley snarled at the camera, "You have to learn some manners. You simply can't have all the men to yourself! The whole world is waiting for the supposedly dead girl to make an appearance and you mustn't disappoint…"
Amelia took Bruce's hand and he squeezed it.
"Little Greta here is all alone in the world…just like I am now you've stolen him away from me. I had to do a bad thing to her daddy, and that's your fault! Show me what a real woman you are…meet me out in the open and we can have a nice girly chat…I'll be waiting, so will Greta,"
The screen returned back to the presenter and Amelia stared up at the two men.
"That's it!" she stood angrily, "I'm not waiting here anymore. Look at what she's done. I can't let her kill Greta,"
Bruce held out his hands. "Calm down!"
"I think I've been amazingly calm considering,"
"I don't think she'll hurt the child Miss West," Alfred added and Amelia laughed.
"How can you be sure? That woman has killed two cops, a nurse, a paramedic and my father…not to mention Greta's father. I can't let this go on!"
Bruce began to pace the room. "Then what do we do Amelia?" he was exasperated.
"I have to ask sir, where the Joker fits into all of this? After the party he has remained very quiet," Alfred asked the unavoidable question.
Where exactly was the Joker?
////
Harley was nursing a bruised jaw. She collapsed on the bed of her apartment, her leg throbbing. Taking the needle, she plunged it into her thigh, reeling from the sudden floaty feeling.
"All better," she muttered.
She stumbled to the door and peered through the crack.
"Sweetie," she called nicely, "Please let me out!"
On the other side of the door The Joker was scanning the paper. He took a slug of water and ran a hand through his greasy locks.
He hadn't bargained for this. He hadn't planned on Harley modelling herself so successfully on him. She had taken his plan and turned it on itself, like he was so fond of, chaos erupting in its wake.
He had practically worn a hole in the lounge carpet from pacing. She hadn't made herself hard to find. When she presented the child to him, gagged and bound and looking more bruised than he was comfortable with, she had assumed he'd be so overjoyed.
God, he really had pushed her over the edge! What was worse was that she appeared to be slowly dying. There was a smell about her, like her leg was literally rotting away and he quickly realised it was not a game anymore.
He stole the medical supplies from the back of the ambulance and locked her in her bedroom with them, giving her a smack in the face for good measure, assuming she'd know what to do with the stuff, due to her medical background.
As for the little girl, he untied her bonds, trusting she was afraid enough of him not to do anything stupid. So far so good, but she kept looking at him.
When one of his goons had come bursting through the door earlier, she'd run full pelt at him, gripping his leg for dear life and it had taken him ages to prise her off.
Cute, blonde little thing, he almost felt bad for her.
Right now she was watching him from a corner, her knees pulled up to her chest.
He sat down, cross legged opposite her and she recoiled even further.
"Hey, hey," he clicked his fingers in her face and she winced, "Don't be pulling that face at me…want to see a trick? I can do magic,"
The little girl licked her lips and shook her head.
He cocked a head at her and noticed her dry lips. Scowling he wondered when the last time the kid ate or drank. Harley probably hadn't bothered to give her anything.
"You thirsty petal?" he asked and timidly, she nodded.
He was on his feet and took a mucky glass from the sink, giving it a quick swish around before taking her over a full glass. The girl drank it down greedily.
Harley banged furiously on the door and the child jumped in fright.
The Joker put out his hand. "Its ok, she's not coming out anytime soon,"
"More please," the girl whispered and he raised an eyebrow at her.
"I'm not your slave….what's your name…Gretel?" he quipped.
"Greta," she corrected bravely and he chuckled.
"Greta, excuse me," he took a mock bow; "You really aren't that scared of me are you?"
Greta leaned forward as if to whisper something to him and intrigued he leaned closer. She was like a perfect little doll, her pale skin and blue eyes.
"I don't like her!" Greta nodded to the bedroom door and the Joker grinned at her.
"I'll tell you a secret….I don't like her much either,"
"She hit me," Greta's eyes filled with tears and he shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable, "She hit me a lot,"
Suddenly the child was crying and the Joker recoiled like he'd seen a snake. He went back to the kitchen counter and pretended to read the paper.
Today had been Abbott West's funeral and he was certain that his darling daughter would make an appearance. But she hadn't.
Nothing was ever easy and he hated the Batman even more venomously for keeping his ballerina from him.
Now Harley had literally dove off the deep end and he was stuck with this little monster that the whole city was probably out searching for.
He sensed movement and flinched, moving the paper aside and seeing Greta's face staring up at him.
"Can I watch cartoons?" she whispered and he swallowed. She reminded him so much of someone.
"Be my guest, Petal," he grinned and nodded towards the television.
"I don't know how to turn it on," she said and he inwardly groaned.
Much to his annoyance, Harley had bought the worst television known to man and after much banging it on the top and fiddling with the dials; he finally got it to work.
"Thanks," Greta smiled, settling herself on the sofa.
The Joker watched her for a minute and then stormed into the bedroom, where Harley was sprawled on the bed. She sat up, her face smiling, like a mad clown, her makeup caked and thick. Sweat was pouring off her like water and he noted that the smell was worse.
He wagged a finger at her.
"You're a naughty girl Harley," he said through clenched teeth, "You certainly know how to spice things up,"
Harley laughed manically; pain was seared across her face.
"Do you like her Hun?" she giggled weakly, "Can I keep her?"
"Harley, I wouldn't let you keep kittens let alone a six year old," he placed his hands on his hips, "However, your little plan should help bring Amelia West out in the open, and for that, I applaud you,"
Harley's face twisted in jealously. Thick tears escaped her black eyes.
"Its still all about her isn't it?" she screamed, "I'm half dead and all you can think about is her!"
"You are half dead and smell like it. I should be kind and put you out of your misery!" he joked and she bit her lip, wailing on the bed like a banshee.
"I hate you!" she screamed, "And I hate her! If I ever see her I'll kill her myself!"
She crawled off the bed groaning, her hands grabbing at the curtains, drinking in the fresh air.
"I'm going to do the decent thing, believe it or not," he seized her by the shoulders and tossed her back on the bed, "My boys will be here in a while and they'll take you back to Gotham general. And then hopefully, you'll be taken to Arkham, or someplace they can help you,"
He laughed at the irony of his own joke and watched her writhe on the bed in agony.
"You fucking asshole!" she screamed, "I hate you. I wish you were dead!"
"Honey, please!" he chided, "You'll upset the baby,"
