What Goes Around, Comes Around

Pairing: Joker/OC

Rating: K+

Warnings: Cursing.

A/N: I am a horrible promise-keeper. Crappy way to start the new year. Will update thrice this week. It's not that I haven't finished this. I finished the story the day of my last update. I just don't have time to update what with financial aid forms and stuff.

Chapter Twenty- Death Threat & Wine

There were just so many things Batman could ignore and Jack going to Gordon's house was one of them. Luckily, Gordon- despite of his word to Jack- called Batman immediately after the meeting.

"So he knows everything?" he asked him once more.

"He claims to," Gordon said, "he also knows who you are."

"That he does," Batman agreed.

"Should that not worry you? He is the Joker after all."

"I highly doubt that. So what's the plan? Are you using him?"

"I am because, turns out, there's a mole- or should I say, three moles in my department alone. We need to clean up before we try to clean this city and he's letting us do it."

"Any reason why he said that?"

"He wants a normal life. He wants to be able to go in public with his wife without people talking shit about him."

"Ah." That made sense. "Well then, allow him to do whatever it is that he wants. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on him but he doesn't need to know that. Hopefully this plan'll work."

"Yeah," Gordon agreed, "hopefully."

"I'll see you later at the usual then," Batman stated before leaving.

As for Gordon, he was just happy that he had finished a conversation before leaving.

For once.

Monday morning came and Misha made no attempt to leave her room in Bruce's pent house. Jack, on the other hand, who was universally scorned for being a late raiser was up and about. Not only that, but he woke up early for a change. Earlier than their alarm.

Which Misha found thoroughly fascinating in itself because Jack's internal clock always read bedtime until he was forced to get up and move on with the day.

So she was very, very surprised when she finally got out of bed and she found him exercising.

"What the hell, Jack?" she commented groggily before padding off to their bathroom.

"Nothing," he told her, following her.

He peered inside the bathroom to find her vomiting.

Jack frowned. "Are you alright, Misha?"

"What?"

"You're throwing up," he stated.

Misha rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am," she responded, groggily, "People do that sometime."

"Are you feeling well?" he asked her, walking across the room towards her. He felt her forehead but it wasn't warm.

"You don't feel sick," he commented, "was it something you ate?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She walked towards the wash basin and washed her hands. Jack continued to watch her as she went about her business.

"Do you want to visit the doctor?" he asked her.

Misha shot him a questioning look. "And why would you suggest that...?"

"You're rarely sick," he explained, "and when you are, you don't look tired. Are you sure you're not coming down with something serious?"

Misha groaned. "I'm sure it's just the stress of the past few days finally getting to me," she said, "like so much happened in the last couple of days." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Everything's fine, Jack. Chill." She kissed on the lips. It took a moment for him to respond but even then he ended it shortly.

"I think you should still go to the doctor," he stated.

"If I'm not well by tomorrow, I will," she informed him. "Does that make you feel better?"

Jack nodded. "It makes me feel much better."

They got ready- well, Misha got ready. Jack just observed her which, though wasn't exactly new to her, but it unnerved her just the same. It reminded her of when he used to be the Joker. When he'd initially been left to recover at her apartment all those years ago, he'd done the same thing in the first few days: observe her, get to know her timetable and then assess whether she was a threat or not.

Misha did not like being reminded of those days.

She quickly did her make up- just barely did her make up since she spent five minutes on that only and called to Jack, "Breakfast?"

That seemed to do the trick; he got up from his perch on their bed and held out his hand to her.

Misha took it and then they went into the dining room.

Neither Bruce nor Alfred was there which was fine since breakfast was already laid out and the last thing she wanted was Jack telling Bruce about her "sickness." Her husband might be overprotective but her boss was an overkill. She most certainly did not want a "sick leave" at this time of the year.

Specially when the audits and customer reviews were due.

They did their breakfast fairly quietly though Jack did stop her when she tried to drink cold water.

"What?"

"You're not feeling well," he answered before putting the jug away.

Misha murmured something vile about husbands being overly protective rather loudly under her breath but that just make Jack grin.

Sometimes she wished she had it in her to punch and/or slap that treacherous grin off his face.

Work went slowly for Misha.

Something was definitely up since Bruce had not turned up at work, breaking his twenty eight week streak rather incredibly. To make matters weirder even Iona wasn't at work. She wondered what was happening and that if it really was a coincidence that both were gone at the same time.

Naturally Misha decided to investigate.

"Claire," she asked the building manager on her way to Bruce's office to pick up some files, "do you have any idea why Bruce isn't in?"

Claire was an elderly lady with wild purple-silver hair and rhinestone glasses. She wore bright clothes and incredibly funky shoes. Overall she gave this crazy cat lady vibe- according to Iona- but she was nice and Misha respected her.

She was basically Iona's role model too.

Apparently Iona wanted to age the way she had.

Misha waited for Claire to answer.

"Bruce?" she thought aloud, tapping her chin with her index finger. She typed in a few keys (or was it a million- Misha didn't know; she typed really fast) into the computer before saying, "Well, he's actually having a meeting with someone called Diana Prince. And all of us know what that means. He scheduled it though. So I'm guess it's somewhat official."

Misha frowned. She had scheduled a meeting with the lady for last week. He had attended the meeting. Why was Bruce using that as a cover?

"Oh, well- wow," was all she managed to say. Then a minute later, "Can I know Iona's new project?"

"Sure."

A few more clicks later, Claire said, "She's gone to see Diana Prince with Mr. Wayne. Says here they needed 'tech assistant.' Now that's just strange. Diana Prince is a dealer- what does tech have anything to do with that?"

"Maybe she's scanning those paintings, making sure they're real," Misha suggested. "Thanks."

Claire smiled. "No problem," she said before turning back to her computer. Then after a moment, added,"Congrats, by the way!"

"For what?" Misha asked her, confused.

Claire beamed at her. "OH! You don't know yet. Well, I won't spoil it."

Misha frowned but continued her trek to Bruce's office.

Was there a promotion in store for her? she wondered.

"So do we have a deal?" Jack asked him.

Carl Knox- leader of the Narrows drug mafia called 2.0- shook his head rapidly in agreement. "Y-yes, b-b-b-boss," he managed to stutter, "A-a-anything for you."

Jack smiled.

"Good," he said in his Joker voice- and yes, that's what he liked calling it- as he lowered the knife he was holding. "Now remember, don't get caught."

The man repeated his gesture once more.

"O-of course," he answered.

"Can you repeat what I've asked you?"

"K-kill th-the po-poli-ic-ice o-o-fficer-cers," he told him, his voice shaking uncontrollably, "a-and m-make s-sure t-t-that n-no eviden- evidence r-remains."

Joker's smile got wider. "Perfect! Gold star for you!"

"Now, what are the names of the police officers you're supposed to kill?" he asked him, stepping forward menacingly.

The man hit his head against the wall of the alley they were in when he stepped back, shrinking in fear.

"J-Joseph Sugg, A-Arnold Trevor a-and H-Harry Jones."

"Excellent. And when can I expect the results...?"

"O-on T-tuesday n-n-night," he replied. "Please don't kill my family!"

Jack looked heavenwards. "I won't kill your family," he shrugged, "I'll just-" He did a shooting gesture with his hands. "-make 'em see stars. That doesn't hurt. Not. One. Bit."

Carl gulped. "N-no, don't do that!"

"Well then do your job, ass hole."

He nodded his head once more.

Jack rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of this pathetic man.

"Good, I trust you. Now fuck off."

The man scrambled out of the alley leaving Jack to laugh all by himself.

After a good few minutes, he finally stopped.

"It's good to be back," he admitted to himself as he began to wipe the face paint on his face with the help of the tissue papers and a water bottle he'd brought earlier. Even though everyone knew what he looked like without the make up, Jack still liked wearing it.

It made him seem scarier.

And boy, did he like scaring people.

He admitted that he didn't like doing it this way. He preferred keeping the Joker out of this altogether but he reckoned that he couldn't afford the moles going free and taking up new identities. He couldn't have anyone infiltrate anyone anymore.

He was double crossing the police by having them killed but- quite frankly- he did not agree with the Gotham brand of justice. He had to make sure that his plan was perfect. He didn't want this kind of life anymore. Therefore, he was willing to dig deep and dirty even if it meant that all the criminals in Gotham would see justice. True justice.

His brand of manipulation and pitting one against the other had worked so far. Violence had declined and people were beginning to notice this. Naturally everyone thought it was Batman's doing and Jack was willing to let him take the credit for it if it meant that he could succeed in his plans.

After this is over, he thought, I'll never use the Joker again.

Or maybe not.

He would still need the Joker humour for bad jokes.

He may or may not still want to be a comedian.

He did know that he couldn't rid himself of the Joker forever since he was the Joker and so had decided to redirect his homicidal urges elsewhere. Such as the destruction of the villains of Gotham.

The plan was working so far.

Jack contemplated the next stages of his plan as he walked out of the alley.

He walked down the street, away from the Narrows and towards the place where he and Misha lived. On his way, he saw a shop where the display of boxes of chocolate and wine caught his eye.

Jack stepped into the store.

He had only made his way towards the displays when a salesgirl approached him. "Welcome to Florence's Chocol-" she began her routine introduction but stopped when she realized who he was.

"I know who you are," she said in a lower tone, her eyes wide and shocked.

Jack assessed her quickly before saying, "Annd?"

"Your scars are real!" she commented, prompting Jack to touch them. He didn't like it when people brought that up.

"Yes," he said not sure where this was coming from.

"So did you actually end up marrying the girl who basically harboured you from the police?"

Her questions were starting to irritate him a lot now. His left eye twitched but he managed to keep his temper under control. That was another thing that was happening these days.

The more he used the Joker side of him, the more impatient he was becoming.

But then, Misha was generally impatient with people as well.

Maybe she was influencing him.

"Yes," he snapped, "and I want to get something from here so can you please stop asking me questions and help me pick out a damned box of chocolates?"

That must have come off a little too harshly since the girl flinched but smiled weakly. "Yeah, sure."

Jack looked heavenwards. "I'm sorry," he apologized immediately, "I am so tired of people asking me that."

She raised her hands in surrender. "It's fine. Totally get it. Now, do you want like a mixed assortment or just one type of chocolate?"

"I think mixed is good," Jack said, "I admit I don't really know what kind of chocolates she likes."

The girl raised a brow but said nothing.

It occurred to Jack that even though he knew her story, Misha was still a mystery to him. He didn't know what she liked, her hobbies or even much about childhood. Granted, she didn't know much about him either but she always seemed to know things.

He knew what his evening plans were.