CHAPTER 10

It was the damn song. The song had ruined everything.

Up until they played that song—and the dedication after it, which Jonathan supposed had really triggered everything—it had been an unusually good evening. Maybe the best evening they had had since they moved into the house.

Jonathan's spirits had begun to lift as soon as he walked through the front door at precisely five-fifteen, just as he did every weekday evening. Tonight had been different from most evenings, though. Instead of coming into a hushed, darkened house, the child in the nursery under the care of her nanny and Katie upstairs prostrate with the shades drawn, he entered to sunlight and the sounds of Aerosmith and Run-DMC.

He had found his wife in the kitchen stirring something in a saucepan and singing along to the radio; Lily played at her feet with a bigger pot and wooden spoon. "She told me to WALK THIS WAY! Talk this way!" Katie sang while Lily accompanied her on the "drums". The child actually had a good sense of rhythm, Jonathan noticed as he entered the kitchen with a genuine smile on his face. Perhaps they should consider music lessons when she was a bit older.

"Hello, darling," he said as he kissed Katie lightly on the cheek. "I see we have our own little Mozart." He patted Lily's curly strawberry-blonde head. The little girl grinned up at him and began to play a particularly energetic solo.

"Hey," she greeted him in return. "Yeah, Lily's been trying out different careers all day. First she was an Olympic swimmer at Wayne Manor when we went to see Alfred, then we stopped by Lexi and Thad's and she was runway modeling in Lex's studio, and now she's trying her hand at rock stardom, apparently."

This was good news. Katie had been out of bed and out of the house for a good part of the day, from the sound of it. Perhaps she was pulling out of the depression a bit, getting ready for one of her good phases.

He was even more encouraged when she told him, "I gave Emma and Mrs. Travers the evening off. They hadn't had one in a while, and I'm feeling pretty good today."

She looked good, too. Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back and her face free of makeup, she could have passed for a teenager again. She and Lily were both the light, toasty cinnamon shade that they went after a short time in the sun. How was it, Jonathan wondered idly, that the two fair-skinned redheads tanned, while he himself fried in the sun? It was one of life's little mysteries.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "What's for dinner?" Whatever was bubbling in the saucepan smelled mouth-watering, and he was ravenous. He did hope Katie wasn't the chef, however. After three years of marriage, Katie was no better a cook than she had ever been. He had to give her credit for trying, though, at least when she was in one of her good periods; his own mother hadn't even been able to boil water.

"Pasta primavera," she replied. "Don't worry, Emma made it before she left. I'm just reheating it." She aimed an impish grin over her shoulder at him, and his breath caught in his throat. For that one second, she was completely and fully happy-go-lucky Katie Wayne again. He hoped against hope that she really was getting better, but he had learned to just enjoy the good times when they came and not to read too much into them.

"If you and Keith Moon there want to head on outside," she said, indicating Lily, "I'll bring this out in just a sec. It's such a pretty day I thought we'd eat out on the terrace. I've already set the table and everything."

It was a pleasant dinner, one of the few they'd had in the house. Normally Katie had a tray brought up to her, while he gobbled something down in his study and Lily ate in the nursery with Mrs. Travers. But tonight the three of them ate at the little table on the terrace, with candles flickering and the radio playing softly in the background. They conversed about their respective days. It was, Jonathan thought later, too good to be true. Something had been bound to go wrong.

Katie and Lily had had a very busy day, it transpired. They had gone to Wayne Manor as planned late that morning, and stayed for lunch—"Alfred already had the cook making that chicken salad Lily likes so much; I swear I think he's got a touch of the psychic about him." He had been delighted to see the two of them and couldn't believe how fast Lily was growing. Lily had stayed in the water so long she looked like a giant prune when they finally coaxed her out of the pool. Katie wanted to get her into swimming lessons, but they didn't start giving them until age three; she would sign her up early next year.

After leaving Wayne Manor, they had stopped to see Lexi Fox Marshall. Now a fashion designer beginning to enjoy some success in the Gotham arena, she was happily married to Thad and mountainously pregnant with their first child. The baby boy was due any day now, and because Thad had a pathological fear of all things bloody and gory, Lexi had asked Katie to be with her during the delivery. Katie had promised she would. This was also a good sign, Jonathan thought. From there they began reminiscing about Katie's pregnancy and the birth of Lily. They concentrated on the lighthearted memories (Jonathan going out at three in the morning because Katie absolutely had to have some nachos; the hospital room being so filled with flowers and balloons that it took several orderlies to carry it all out), skipping over the less pleasant recollections (the child's murky paternity; Katie's spiral into postpartum depression). Lily listened to these stories with the attention span of a child three times her age, occasionally making them laugh with her cute remarks.

It was the best evening Jonathan could remember for a long, long time. But he wasn't going to disturb the fragile camaraderie of it by saying so.

After they ate, Katie cleaned up the dishes while Jonathan astounded all three of them by offering to read Lily a story. Lily accepted his offer with shy thanks. Her eyes held an expression of wonder as they settled on the living-room sofa with a well-worn copy of The Cat in the Hat. Neither of her parents wanted to examine her awe at a normal family evening, but they both promised themselves there would be more of them in the future.

Jonathan strung out his reading in order to coincide with Katie finishing the dishes. He was amazed at the little girl's comprehension and insight to the story. She really was a bright little thing, he thought as she giggled at his attempt to do a different voice for each character. Once again that breath of affection stirred inside him.

Well, of course she's smart, jeered his inner voice. There's a lot of intelligence floating around in that little gene pool. We'll just overlook those raving-lunatic genes for now, right?

That's true, he thought back at the voice. Katie AND I are both very intelligent. And situational mental illness isn't hereditary. Thankfully, the voice fell silent.

Lily was yawning as he closed the book. Katie, finished with the cleanup, had stood in the doorway listening to him read the last few pages. With the innate sixth sense of mothers, she lifted the child from his lap and took her to her nursery, despite the child's drowsy protests of, "Not sleepy, Mommy." By the time she had changed Lily in her nightgown she was nodding on her feet, and her eyes closed as soon as Katie tucked the blankets around her.

"Love you, Curly Locks," she whispered, brushing her daughter's wild reddish-blonde curls off her forehead. "I love you more than the sun."

"Love you more than the sky," Lily groggily retorted. This was their good-night dialogue, and dated back before the little girl's memory.

When Katie came back to the living room Jonathan was nowhere to be found. She thought he might have retreated to his office and then heard him moving around the kitchen. In there, she was surprised to find him at the cappuccino machine.

"Here," he said, handing her a cup.

She took it, sipping gingerly at the steaming liquid. "Thank you."

They sat at the kitchen table and drank their coffees. Not a word passed between them, but the silence was almost comfortable for a change.

He broke it finally by saying, "You do seem better."

"I think I'm getting there," she replied.

He pushed his cappuccino aside. "There's something I want to talk to you about," he said seriously.

Oh, shit, Katie thought. He's going to start in about the therapist again. She braced herself.

But it wasn't that. What he said next came as a complete surprise.

"Katie…" he began, then trailed off. He seemed to be searching for the right words. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and uncertain—as different from the "Professor Tone" as night from day.

"If you really are getting better…once we're really sure you're, you know, well…I'd like to start trying to have another baby," he finished in a rush.

She was really glad she didn't have a mouthful of cappuccino when he said that.

"I see," she said finally.

"I've always assumed we would have more than one child…and I think we should do it before Lily gets too much older," he told her. "Have you given any thought to this?"

"No," Katie said with perfect honesty. "I haven't."

"Do you want another baby?"

"I don't know," she replied, also truthfully.

He reached across the table and took her hands in his, surprising them both. She didn't pull away.

"It will be different this time, Katie," he said in a low voice, his blue eyes so intense she felt like he was burning a hole into her. "You'll have plenty of help…Mrs. Travers will be here, and we can hire another nurse when the baby comes, if you want. As for the postpartum, I'll monitor you closely, and get you medication or counseling if you need it. Then again, you may not. Every pregnancy is different, and you won't have the…stressors you had with Lily.

"You don't have to say yes or no right away," he concluded. "Like I said, I want to make sure you're all right before we start trying. But will you think about it?"

Slowly, she nodded.

"All right then," he said briskly, jumping up. "Would you like to see what's on TV? We can order a movie off Pay-Per-View if there's something you want to see."

She smiled. Her lips felt numb. Another baby. "Sure," she said. "I think The Departed is on one of the movie channels; I've been wanting to watch it, it's supposed to be really good." Her smile felt more natural now. "I'll make us some popcorn if you want to go find what channel it's on."

She mulled over this new development as she stuck a package of Orville Redenbacher in the microwave. He wants to have another baby.

He had been quite delicate about the matter, but she could read between the lines. He wanted, not just another baby, but his baby—a child that was irrefutably, without a doubt, his own. They still weren't sure about Lily, and he had never wanted to do any kind of testing to make sure. She had offered after Lily was born, but he had refused. The little girl shared her blood type, so there was no way of knowing from that alone.

To this day, Katie was unsure about the true parentage of Lily Katherine Crane. Sometimes, in certain lights, her daughter looked so much like

(Jack)

him it took Katie's breath away. Other times, she seemed like a mini Jonathan. So it was impossible to know just who had fathered her. Katie admitted to herself that if she were to find out, she didn't know which outcome she'd want…finding out Lily was Jonathan's…or finding out she was his.

So Jonathan wanted a child he knew for certain was his. She couldn't really blame him. And, after all, didn't she owe him that much? The guy had pretty much single-handedly saved her sanity three years back. He had saved her reputation, too, by marrying her. She liked to think she didn't give a damn about her rep, then or now, but deep down Katie Wayne Crane was an old-fashioned girl. More importantly, he had raised Lily as his own, even though he had never quite warmed to the child.

Maybe that would change if they did have another baby. Maybe his joy over having a child that was definitely his would help him feel more fatherly toward Lily. He had never once been unkind to her, after all, just distant. And she thought he might already be coming around, if tonight was any indication. She had seen the wash of tenderness over his face as he read to Lily. He did care for her, if he would allow himself to feel it.

A new baby. Without realizing she was doing so, Katie smiled. She would have to think about it some more…but if they did decide to have another one, she hoped it would have Jonathan's eyes.

The microwave beeped. Katie grabbed the popcorn between her thumb and index finger and dropped it quickly on the counter to cool. She was searching for a bowl when a snatch of music drifted in from the open window.

She frowned, puzzled. Then it came to her. Damn, I left the radio outside. "I'll be right there," she called to Jonathan. "I forgot to bring in the radio."

As she stepped onto the terrace a thought niggled at the back of her mind: Wait, didn't I turn it off before—the thought went unfinished as she heard the song that was playing: "Psycho Killer" by the Talking Heads. She used to love this song, she thought idly as she stepped toward the table and the radio. Not now, though. Now it just reminded her of…everything.

Right then, one of those moments of horrible serendipity occurred.

Just as she was reaching to switch off the radio, "Psycho Killer" went off and the deejay started yammering away. "The Talking Heads by special request, from Jack to Katie!"

She froze, her hand still on the dial. No. No. It couldn't be…

"Katie," the deejay continued, and she jumped before realizing he was "out there in Radioland", "Jack said to tell you you better not have forgotten him…because he certainly hasn't forgotten you!" The deejay laughed raucously, apparently thinking he was Howard Stern or Mancow. "If I were you, honey, I'd move outta town and change your name!"

Idiotically, she responded. "Somehow I don't think that would help," she told the radio.

--

When Katie hadn't appeared in the living room after a couple of minutes, Jonathan went looking for her.

"Darling?" he said, poking his head into the kitchen. The popcorn lay on the counter, but Katie was nowhere to be found.

He went out to the terrace then. At first he didn't see her, and he started to get alarmed. Then he barely made out her dark shape sitting at the table in one of the chairs.

Relief passed through him briefly, but was quickly replaced by apprehension. She was so still…she was sitting there like a statue, like she had after Lily was born. Like she laid in their bed now, so often.

Oh, shit, Katie, he thought wearily. Carefully he made his way over to her. "Katie?" he said in his Soothing-Patients voice. "Are you all right?"

She raised her head slowly, and he gasped aloud. A death mask looked back at him. Her face was drained of all color, all animation, and her eyes were enormous, dark and wild in the white face.

"He's back, Jonathan," she said tonelessly. "He's coming for me."

"Who?" he breathed.

He saw a flicker of impatience in those crazed eyes. "You know," she said. "Jack." She shivered slightly. "I always knew he'd be back one day."

Jonathan's blood turned to ice water. He didn't believe her ramblings for a minute, of course; he thought she was suffering another nervous breakdown. Guilt flooded him. It's my fault, he thought. She was doing so well, and I pushed her over the edge…the thought of another child was just too much for her.

His voice carefully neutral, he asked her, "What makes you think that, darling?"

"The radio," she said in that scary flat voice. "'To Katie from Jack'. He hopes I haven't forgotten him…because he hasn't forgotten me."

"You heard a dedication," he realized with relief. "Oh, darling. There are probably thousands of Jacks and Katies in Gotham County. Two of them are bound to be dating each other. It was probably some teenager requesting a song for his girl."

She grinned. It was just as frightening as the death mask had been. "Not that song," she said in an eerie singsong. "'Psycho killer…qu'est-ce que c'est…far far far far far, far far far far far far better….run run runnnn, run run run awaaaay'!" She began to laugh then, a quiet chuckle at first, but it quickly spiraled into peals of insane, mirthless laughter.

Jonathan Crane had never been more frightened in his life. This was not his wife. This was a stranger…a madwoman. This had to be stopped. He had to fix this. He did the only thing he could think of, something he had never been taught at Gotham U or Arkham: he drew his hand back and slapped her squarely, ringingly in the face.

She stopped laughing then. She sat perfectly still and silent for one long moment. Then the shivering began.

She shook so hard that her teeth chattered. It was a warm summer night, but when he went to put his arms around her he could feel she was ice-cold. Stricken with remorse for the slap, relieved it had helped somewhat (and deep down exulting that he'd finally had an excuse to deliver it after three years of putting up with her shit), he led her inside.

Inside, she was docile as he prepared the syringe full of a fairly strong sedative and injected her with it. The Professor was in control now. He was going to get her calmed down, then he was going to figure out what the hell had set her off this time. He began to lead her to the stairs and thought better of it. It was silly, he knew, but if Katie was right…if Napier really was back…it was best to stay close to Lily.

So he tucked the stumbling mannequin that was Katie into the daybed in Lily's playroom. Luckily there was a table and chair right outside the nursery. He quickly retrieved the phone and the Gotham County phone book and sat down, preparing to make some calls.

First he would call the radio station, and find out of there was any truth to her ramblings. If there was, he would contact the police. If not…he might just have to call Arkham.

"Goddamn it," he huffed under his breath. A casual observer would have seen only annoyance and resignation on his face. It would have taken a very close look indeed to realize that the ice-blue eyes were wet with unshed tears.

--

Outside, the man in the shadows had tears in his eyes too. But these were tears of laughter.

Oh, it had worked out perfectly. The dedication had been a shot in the dark; it had been pure luck she had come out in time to hear it. But she had performed admirably. She had reacted just as she was meant to.

He had watched with glee the entire scene that followed. He'd had to stifle his laughter when the Scarecrow had gone upside little Miss Katie-did's head. He bet neither of them would get any sleep tonight. And that was just how he wanted it.

Now he would lie low for a while. He would let them think it was just a fluke thing. He knew it would take Katie a while to relax, but he could wait. He'd gotten very good at waiting over the last three years.

Not like Katie. She hadn't wasted any time making a baby and settling down to play house with the Scarecrow. He hoped she'd enjoyed the domestic bliss while it lasted, because very soon it would be over.

He would bide his time, give things a chance to calm down…and then he would strike.

"I'll get you, my pretty," he whispered, giggling wildly. "I'll get you…and your Scarecrow…and just maybe I'll get your little Munchkin, too!" He let out a cackle at this last, and every dog on the street began to bark.

Inside him, the not-quite-dead corpse of Jack Napier let out a tormented, utterly helpless scream. The Joker ignored this. He had gotten very good at ignoring Jack's ineffectual shade over the last three years, as well.

He would have dearly loved to stay and observe more of the chaos he had created in the Wayne-Crane home, but it was time to put the next part of his plan into action.

"Catch ya later, Katie-did," he hissed as he began to walk away. "You'll definitely be hearing from me again…" he smirked as Jack moaned, recognizing the words he had said to her in another life…

"…but right now I have business in Atlantic City."

A/N: I wrote and rewrote this chappie a couple of times, and I've finally got it how I want it. Hopefully Chapter 11 will be up this weekend—we're going to see some Joker-mama in that one, so stay tuned!

Once again I want to thank my lovely readers and reviewers, and I also want to give a shout-out to David Byrne, Chris Frantz, and Tina Weymouth, AKA Talking Heads. "Psycho Killer' has long been a favorite of mine, and it just seemed to fit here. Strangely enough, I've always associated the song with Cillian Murphy, especially after Batman Begins and Red Eye. Never associated it with Heath, but then that was before he blew the Joker wide open.

I may be in danger of creating a new subgenre of Mary-Sue: the Baby-Sue. Lily is supposed to come across as bright and advanced for her age, and obviously Katie idolizes her, but I think she's just a little too perfect. I may have her draw on some walls or throw a tantrum in public in a future chapter.

Is it just me, or is anyone else detecting a Phantom of the Opera vibe to this story? Mmm…Gerik. (The Joker appears and begins to beat author with a lead pipe) Aauuggh! Please stop! I'm sorry! I love you, only you!

I'd better stop now, before my A/N ends up as long as the chapter itself. 'Night, all.