The Bat was somewhat taken aback by the sudden twist this conversation had taken. It was not precisely how he'd expected his first meeting with the 'dead' Joker to go after six years of silence.
"You can't just do that!" the green-haired man was lecturing, his voice fluttering through a wide and expressive range of pitches and tones. "That's a private matter between parents and their kids! You can't just say something like that Bats, that's a complete taboo, a huuugggeee no-no! I mean, hell, you don't have be a childhood psychology expert to figure that one out! You don't even have to be that bright! When's the last time you watched a soap on TV?! You can't just do that! Don't you ever get out of your little castle and look out at the world? Hello!?"
The Batman studied him quietly, eyes narrowed, trying to decide what trick the man was trying to pull; but as usual, it was never clear where acting began and seriousness ended with the Joker. Ordinarily he would have interpreted this as a manic outburst covering up some attempt to get near a bomb, tripwire, lever, or other situational advantage, but that didn't seem to be the Joker's intent; the man was currently almost pacing, as if honestly trying to figure out the answer to something.
"What the hell am I supposed to tell her now!?" Joker demanded with an agitated lick of one mouth-scar. "What do I do when she asks me what happened to her parents, or why they gave her up, or whether or not they loved her!? She's six years old! What am I supposed to say? 'No, honey, don't worry, the nice lady and man who made you loved you very much, its just that daddy wasn't that nice of a person back then. He and his associates killed your old mommy and daddy and... well... oops? Fuck you, Bats! I was expecting another ten years to figure this out!"
It wasn't like the Joker to rant or speak at length unless he was trying to stall for something or manipulate a reaction. Batman obviously could not take him at face value, and so was left to try and pull apart his words.
Joker paused on seeing that Batman was paying more attention to shivs and environmental hazards than to what he was saying. Recognizing what had to be going through Bats' head had a sobering effect on him. Rather than pout, he clenched his fists and took an aggressive step in his adversary's direction. Bold, that. Bats had always been stronger than him. "Hey!" he growled low. "I am talking to you!"
'Low' was a pitch at which Batman had rarely heard him before. The Joker normally spoke in a childishly mezzo croon or an airy rasp. Now he was almost tempted to say that 'low' might have been his normal speaking octave.
"The hell am I supposed to tell her now? Hyello! Earth to Bats! Can you even hear me?"
"You've just highlighted exactly why you have no claim to this child," Bruce responded.
"Oh-ho, wrong on that count," Joker drawled, rocking back on the balls of his feet and sneering up at the Bat's face victoriously. "She's one hundred percent mine. I did it all the 'legal' way, just to iron out any unforeseen problems. You've got nothing on me there."
"Then you supplied fallacious or incomplete information," the Bat noted dismissively. "You have just admitted to the murder of her parents, and your long history of violence and mental instability speaks for itself, to say the very least. You will be coming back to Arkham. There is no child services or legal professional who would permit you to keep a child."
The Joker's eyes narrowed, both at this and at the implied 'and neither will I' append on the end. But his voice did not lift from its low pitch as he licked his lower lip and responded: "You're talkin' bold for a man in your position, you know. The Inquirer just featured a small article where eyewitnesses saw your butler toting around a child carrier. Did an old friend leave a kitten on your pillow in the night some time recently?"
That got the other man's attention. Everything about the Bat's posture made a subtle change, and Joker knew the vigilante had just readied a smoke bomb or other weapon behind his cape. Good, at least he was paying attention. Although... Quite suddenly, the Joker realized just how far behind him his daughter was. The Bat had a clear line of vision to her. Joker backed up a pace and flicked a shiv out from his waistband.
"If you touch her..." Joker warned with all the violent and acrid hatred of a rabid dog.
"If you so much as lay a hand on-!" the Bat growled simultaneously, about a different child.
There was a moment of silence as both men realized the queer little jinx they'd just made. A long and hostile quite passed between them, as they sized one-another up.
Veronica, who yet stood some distance from them, slowly uncovered her ears and peered in wonder from one of them to another. Huh. She tottered forward uncertainly, wanting to learn more about this.
The Joker heard her approach and shot a worried glance backwards. "Squirt, c'mon!" he warned, gesturing with a knife that she should get behind him. She did so.
Batman frowned. "Are you alright?" he asked her.
Veronica paused, startled by the question, and looked from her father to the stranger. She mumbled a confused, "What?"
Batman gestured to her father. "Has he hurt you?"
Veronica's eyes widened. "No!" she exclaimed, baffled and horrified as to how this could even possibly be a question. Sure her father could be scary sometimes, but he was dangerous to kitchen utensils, not to her! A glance showed her that her father's knuckles tightened about his throwing knives and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Never!"
"Has he asked you to do anything bad for him?" the Bat prodded.
"No!" she exclaimed, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes that anyone would assume such a thing. "He teaches me and makes lunch and bought me a rabbit and apologizes when he's wrong and tells me to say please and thank you and is the best daddy ever!"
"Baaattts," her father growled, low and angry instead of reedy or whining. "Leave my kid alone. If you tracked me down all this way to slap me in irons then you deal with me, not her."
Batman shook his head and made to answer, "She is not your-"
Joker stepped aggressively towards him, knives raised. There was a moment of intense and violent tension, every fiber of the Joker's gritted body daring him to utter those unforgivable words again. For a long sixty seconds, there was silence between them as Batman contemplated what to do and Joker waited to have the last straw broken. Veronica, abruptly, broke the still with:
"Are you Batman?"
Both men turned to see the little girl was hovering very close to her father's leg. She was squinting up at the black-garbed vigilante and trying to get a good look at him in the dim warehouse lighting. She didn't seem close to crying anymore. The Joker and the Bat were both surprised by the sudden interruption, but after a moment, the latter nodded.
Veronica fidgeted and then asked hopefully: "Can I have your autograph?"
The Joker twisted about in startlement to fix her with a wide-eyed, baffled, possibly thrilled, and entirely disbelieving expression. Batman blinked. A long and awkward pause seemed to hang in the air, as the six-year-old's baffling words completely altered the feel of the hostile meeting. A moment ago, the Batman had been assessing his adversary and probing for information about what the arch-villain had been up to for the last six years. Because while it wasn't beyond the Joker to spend a significant amount of time on building up an elegant scheme, it was more typically his nature to play with ad hoc manipulations. Now, in the light of Veronica's innocent request, the world seemed to turn itself on its head. Quite suddenly she was the center of the spectacle, not the Joker or the Bat.
Slowly, wary of the Joker, Batman eased aside his cape and revealed that he was already holding one of his specialty cut throwing stars. A batarang. He gave it a gentle toss to the ground at her feet. Delighted, Veronica pounced on the gift and picked it up, feeling over the shape with the care of a little girl whose father tended to leave one too many knives lying around the house, and who therefore knew to be careful with sharp objects. She smiled up at the masked vigilante with childish awe, and she said: "I want to be a superhero too when I grow up!"
The Joker made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and then jumped in place when his daughter looked up at him in confusion. Joker stood up straight, looked at the Bat, looked down at his daughter, looked out at the warehouse, and then slapped a hand over his face and broke out laughing. Veronica blinked in alarm at the reaction and quickly tugged on her father's shirt sleeve. The Bat blinked in surprise.
"Daddy? Did you go crazy again?!" she pleaded for him to respond. The Joker continued to laugh for a moment, squeezing the bridge of his nose and thumbing gently through his daughter's hair to reassure her he hadn't just gone crazy (again). When he could talk again his eyes twinkled mischievously and he grinned down at her.
"I thought you wanted to be a princess, race car driver, and hockey player?" he recalled.
"Of course. I need a secret identity after all," she told him sagely.
"Oh I see, you've got this all figured out," he continued, voice dripping into a harmless pout, "and what about my autograph? Don't you want that?"
His child blinked at him incredulously, and then reached into her pants' pocket and drew out her lucky card. Aged and dog-eared at the corners, the card was unmistakably a joker. Her father winced initially at the sudden realization that his daughter did know, and had guessed for quite some time exactly what he was. "Ah-" he managed. Then cold panic was replaced by warm paternal affection at her brilliance. He hummed in the back of his throat, pleased, and pulled her tightly against him. "I see. Well then. Did you hear that, Bats? She wants to be a superhero! Boy, do I have my work cut out for me..."
"Joker," the Bat growled, drawing the green-haired man's attention back to the situation at hand. "What have you done?"
"Something really random let me tell you," the clown joked. "I mean I thought some of my old stuff was pretty damn random, but this? Man this would blow minds. It's hilarious. Could you imagine the expressions I'd get? Look Bats I don't mean to cut this short—nice seein' ya and all—but it is way past little Buttercup's bedtime. Imma have ta' let ya go."
The Bat took a step forward. "Do you know how many men and women are dead because of you?" he asked. "I came here to find where you were hiding, and to bring you back to Arkham so that no one else has to suffer because of you."
"Pft! So let me get this straight, after six years of me not bothering a soul, your plan is to 'stop' me from bothering souls by... lighting a fire in my house and flushing me out in the open?"
Batman frowned. "Those people deserve justice. And to know that you're behind bars and in a strait jacket."
"That's a valid perspective," the Joker agreed patiently. "Though I think 'deserve' is a strong word, maybe we should just say they 'want' it and you're willing to go out and nab it for them. Say Bats, what do you prefer: Justice for dead folk, or to keep living people alive?"
"You're not getting out of this by twisting words with me, Joker; I don't lose sleep wondering if you're right or wrong."
"Bats!" the green-haired man snapped, and then eyed his long-time adversary with disappointment and resignation. Bruce frowned, regarding the clown uncertainly, before at last the other man explained himself: "I have a kid," the Joker intoned carefully, laying weight on the words. "I'm guessing by the Inquirer story that you also suddenly find yourself knowing what that's like?" He paused to study the other man's face before continuing. "Then you should get it. You should unnnderstannnd. Just leave me alone. Take Harley and go. And I'll keep outta yer hair."