Chapter Eighteen:

Although Barbara had quickly gotten the opportunity to tell both her parents and Jason that she had made the team, it was another four days before she got the chance to tell Joker. Finals were right around the corner—in fact, they started the following Tuesday, but finally, on a Sunday early afternoon Joker was free enough for her to come over to share her big news. She had really insisted on telling him in person, since it was something that meant so much to her. He had sounded pleased at this and, while saddened that he couldn't free up any time due to his book tour, understood her tight-lipped stance.

So Barbara had been over the moon to get his text early that Sunday, inviting her over sometime after lunch. He had ended it with "missed you, my dear." She hated that their Thanksgiving, the last time they had really had time to see each other face to face, had been marred by an argument. But they had both been so busy that neither had had time to really make it up.

So, after informing Jim and Sarah where she was going to be, she departed for the tower penthouse. She arrived a touch earlier than Joker had asked her to—maybe by a whole twenty minutes, but, hey, she was excited to see her beau—and exited the elevator right outside his door. She lifted her fist, ready to knock, when she paused. She could hear Joker talking, and when the reply to his muffled words came, she didn't recognize the voice. She leaned forward, about to press her ear to the door to get a better sense of what Joker and his mystery guest—a man, judging by the deep boom of his replies—were saying. She was only in that position for a moment before she heard the rustle of movement on the other side. She let out a tiny squeak of alarm, backing down the hall as if she were just now approaching the door.

It swung open, and Joker's voice was now clearly heard as he herded his guest out the door.

"Just remember what I said. After all, a lot of those Roman emperors were killed by their own soldiers."

"Hmph," came the response of the man now filling the frame.

Barbara had to fight hard not to react. The man was tall and broad shouldered, his thinning hair graying to be whiter in color. His face was hard, his lips pulled into a frown, and he held his shoulders and thick neck stiffly in place as his dark eyes fell upon Barbara. From around him, Joker peeked his head.

"Babsy, dearest, you're early," he said.

"Miss Gordon, isn't it?" Joker's guest said, extending a thick hand to shake.

Barbara was amazed that her hand was as steady as it was when she extended her own. After all, she recognized this man. He was Carmine Falcone, a known underworld Boss. The underworld crime boss if talk was to be believed—which her dad strongly suspected it was. They called him the Roman, she remembered, because of his hold over the other bosses in the city—his hold on crime itself. The papers likened him to a Roman emperor presiding over his empire. His hand dwarfed hers, and he shook it once before she pulled hers back.

"I've heard a lot about you. The commissioner's daughter, aren't you?" Falcone asked, a deep rumbling chuckle in his chest.

"Now, now. No flirting," Joker chuckled.

The smile the mob boss flashed the clown was the very definition of "forced." The one he offered Barbara was a little less strained… but only a little.

"Pleasure to have met you. If you'll excuse my exit, I really must be going."

With that, Falcone swept past her, catching the elevator down a few moments later. Joker pulled Barbara inside, shutting the door behind her. He pressed her up against it, holding his entire body against hers. He kissed her, and Barbara would have melted into such a deep, passionate embrace with her previously MIA boyfriend… had it not been for the crime lord that had just left.

"I missed you," Joker breathed when he finally broke their kiss.

She offered him up a small smile. "I missed you too. I've been waiting for days to tell you my good news, but…"

Joker leaned back, brow arched. "But?"

Barbara jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Was that… was that Carmine Falcone?"

Joker seemed to be impressed. He slipped his arm about her shoulder, leading her into the sunken living room. They sat together on the plush sofa as he chuckled.

"Someone pays attention when Daddy talks, doesn't she? Yes, m'dear, that was indeed Falcone."

It was something that Barbara had put little to no thought into, but now Robin's impromptu meeting in the ladies' room of that club came screaming back to her. Not to mention her father's unwavering stance that Joker was still up to no good. She stared at him.

"What was he doing here?"

"My, my… aren't we curious?"

"He makes me… nervous."

"Aww, poor Babsy," Joker said, pulling her close in next to him. "I'll protect you. You know that, right?"

She smiled up at him. "I-I know. I just… you know… Ugh, my dad gets in my head sometimes."

Joker let out one of his little, restrained laughs. "Well, if it will put your busy mind at ease, Falcone was angry with me because of how I depicted him in my upcoming book. I sent him an ARC—an advanced reading copy, you know. He was coming here to ask me to change what I had said."

The flip-floping in Barbara's stomach seemed to ease just a touch. That made sense, didn't it? After all, Joker had never denied his past crimes to her, or to anyone.

"Are you going to switch it? What you wrote?"

Joker puffed up his chest, taking on a look of mock indignation. "And sacrifice my artistic integrity? Never!"

Barbara chuckled. "Are you worried about how he'll take that?"

He playfully beeped her nose. "I don't scare that easy, pooh. Now, I've been on pins and needles for days. What is this wonderful news of yours?"

She blinked. She had been so thrown by Falcone's appearance that she had almost forgotten it herself. She grinned, grabbing both his hands in hers.

"I made the gymnastics team at my university! I used to be on my high school's team, and I loved it… and I was so happy to make it! It'll look great on a resumé, and I really loved doing it."

Joker's grin widened even more. "Not to mention other areas that will be helpful in."

He glanced suggestively at the bedroom, and Barbara elbowed him just as playfully. He chuckled and stood.

"I'm happy for you, Babs. This calls for a toast," he said, exiting the living room for the bar. When he returned, he had a bottle of champagne and a two flute glasses.

He popped the cork and filled both flutes. Barbara stared questioningly at him when he handed her one.

"I know, I know. I keep breaking the law with this… but once in a while will be okay. Now, to my dearest Babsy… Can't wait to watch you 'flip out.'"

She giggled as they clinked their glasses together. She sipped slowly at hers. It wasn't the first drop of alcohol she had ever had, but it was the first sip of champagne. It was a touch sweeter than she had imagined, and she liked the way the bubbles tickled her as she drank. She was more than halfway through her glass when she finally set it down on the table.

She was immediately upended by Joker, who loomed over her.

"I have other ideas for celebrating, if you're game," he whispered into her ear.

She felt instantly, pleasantly, warm. She made a low purr of "hmm" as she grinned up at him.

"Well, I mean, I supposed I haven't properly congratulated you on your book," she answered back.

His eyes flashed with a look that was all too familiar to her by now. He leaned forward, peppering kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her face out of sight, she lightly bit her lip—more in worry than in pleasure. The mention of his book brought the scene of her arrival back to the forefront of her mind.

"Tell me about your book, Joker," she said, letting out a little moan as he now left a trail of kisses along her collarbone.

"It's an autobiography of sorts. A tell-all like this whole city craves from me… oh, my wonderful girl… what do you crave from me?"

"Answers" was her immediate thought. She was at war with herself. Part of her wanted to let it go, just enjoy his touch—which was drifting ever lower, making her hips buck in response. But the other part… she sighed.

"Tell me all about it," she moaned, desperately trying to balance both halves of herself.

Joker chuckled. "You haven't answered my question yet."

"I crave you," she answered, and it was the truth in every sense.

Another low laugh. "How do you want me? Do you want to be tied to the bed again? Or… are you ready for something new? I have some lovely things all ready and waiting to try on you… all you have to do is say when."

His hand was under her sweater, and though she could feel herself growing wet with anticipation… her mind wouldn't let her go.

"How did you know Falcone? You mention it in that book of yours, don't you?"

He paused, and, admittedly, it was an odd place for the pillow talk to go. After a moment, he resumed his hands slow exploration under her sweater. He wormed one up to give a playful squeeze of her right breast.

"That would be a bit spoiler-y, don't you think, dearest?"

He still had that playful tone in his voice, and Barbara felt his hands move to the zipper on the front of her jeans. She bit her lip again, knowing that she might end up regretting her next course of action.

"But, did you guys, like, commit crimes together?"

"Uh-uh. You'll just have to read my book," he said, slowly pulling down the fly of her jeans.

"What if I want to hear it from you? Did you work for Falcone? Or was it the other way around?"

At this, Joker stopped, sitting up. His eyes were narrowed in a glare, and Barbara could see him clenching his teeth.

"Am I about to fuck my girlfriend or my lawyer?"

Barbara's eyes were wide. "I-I'm sorry. I just—"

But Joker was on his feet now, pouring another glass of champagne. "Ah, yes. I understand. I was about to fuck the commissioner, wasn't it?"

Barbara righted herself, pulling her clothes quickly back into place. "I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I should have let it go. I just… You've repented for your crimes… had a reason for them. Falcone hasn't. He makes me nervous, having been here."

Joker glared over his shoulder at her. "You're mine, Babs. Mine. Falcone wouldn't dare touch you. Not if he knows what's good for him."

This time, Barbara did let it go. She didn't explain that it wasn't quite Falcone, just what Falcone represented, being here in Joker's penthouse that worried her. And she especially didn't mention how uneasy the way he had just growled the word "mine" at her made her feel like she was playing with fire.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

She stood, ready to try and entice him back into a better mode, when her cell phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket, seeing her Dad's name on the screen. She answered, knowing that he was supposed to be at work. And her father never ever called from work if it wasn't serious.

"Dad? What is it? Are you okay?"

A sniffle. That was the first response. It was clearly her Dad, but it was clear that it was her Dad, crying.

"Dad?"

Joker turned, his frozen smile flipped upside down.

"Barbara, it's Sarah. I'm at Gotham General."

Barbara's eyes widened. "Is she okay? What's going on?"

"Oh, Barbara… Sarah's miscarried. "

"I'll be right there," she said before ending the call.

She turned, tears in her eyes and her gut feeling like it had been cut open. Joker arched a brow at her.

"I'm so sorry," she said, standing on tiptoe to plant a chaste kiss on his ruby lips. "But… something's happened. I have to go. Can I… Can I call you later?"

"Of course, my dear. Go. Go," he said, waving her toward the door.

Barbara lost no more time, charging out of the penthouse. She held her tears in until the elevator doors closed. Then, she let them flow freely, drying them only when she was getting into her car.

She had no idea how many traffic laws she broke in getting from Joker's penthouse to Gotham General, but she had no regrets. She burst through the doors that led to the ground-floor emergency room and talked to the first person behind glass she could find. She gave her name, and told the nurse—or administrator, whatever this woman in scrubs was—who it was she was looking for. She was then informed that Sarah and Jim were in the Emergency room, and the nurses and such had been told to let Barbara through once she arrived. They buzzed her through, telling her which little room her father and stepmother were waiting for her in. Barbara zoomed inside with a muttered word of thanks, and all but ran to the room. She emerged inside of it with little thought to privacy, to find her father sitting on a stool, holding Sarah's hand from where she lay on the bed. Her eyes were red rimmed, and her make-up smudged in the way that only crying can do. Barbara tears began anew, feeling big fat drops rolling down her cheeks.

Jim wheeled back on his stool as she rushed to Sarah's side, giving the woman a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so, so sorry. I know… I know I didn't handle the news the best… but I never, ever wanted this. I'm so sorry!"

"Oh… oh, dear," Sarah said, sniffing along with Barbara and hugging her back just as fiercely. "I know that. I know. I know you'd never wish something so horrible."

The two women held tight for a while, nothing but quiet sobs and sniffles breaking the silence. Finally, Sarah let Barbara go, and she turned to her father.

"What happened?" she asked.

Jim, his own eyes bloodshot from tears, nodded toward the door of the room. "Let's let Sarah have a moment to rest, okay?"

Sarah, for her part, was resting with a hand across her stomach, her eyes heavy lidded. Barbara nodded and followed her dad out of the room. They stopped in the hall just outside, hugging the wall as to not be in the way. She gave him a quick, hard hug before backing up and asking her question again. Jim shook his head.

"Some thugs made a scene at the precinct. They were being brought in for questioning, and they started to resist. There was a scuffle… and they ended up throwing Sarah to the floor… hard."

Jim sniffed, hard, and Barbara knew the signs of her father trying not to cry. She frowned, shaking her head. After a moment, when Jim felt he could trust himself again, he turned back to his daughter with a bit of snarl on his lip.

"I know who they were. We've arrested them before. I should've—"

"Ssh, Dad, no…" Barbara said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Dad, you can't predict the future. You didn't know."

"Barbara," he said, his voice breaking.

"You don't have to… you don't have to continue," she said, trying her best to bring her father some kind of comfort.

"It was Falcone's thugs. His street-level dealers. Those… those SOBs grabbed her. There was no reason, Barbara… no reason for them to act like that. But they did. They grabbed her and slammed her into the floor."

Tears were starting to fall from Jim's eyes, and he turned away. Barbara, meanwhile, felt like her heart had made an all stop. Falcone's thugs… She had only told Joker how she felt about the baby. Then, Falcone is at the Penthouse just moments before this? Was it all a coincidence? Was her father and public opinion finally getting into her head?

Or was it just that it was right in front of her this whole time?

She felt ill. She leaned a shoulder against the cool, hard wall to her left, and was only partially aware that someone else had now joined them.

"Commissioner Gordon?"

Both Jim and Barbara snapped their heads around to see that a doctor had arrived. Jim nodded at him, and they both moved inside the room. Barbara muttered something about giving them space and being right outside. Once the door was shut, she all but ran for the nearest restroom.

It was a single visitor restroom, which she loved as she locked the door behind her. She ran to the sink, gripping both sides of its white surface, sobbing down into it. She had to be wrong. She had been stalwart in being Joker's defender. He had changed.

But… said a small voice in the back of her mind. She turned on the water, splashing a bit on her face. When she looked up, her face streaming with more than tears, she was resolute. She pulled her purse around and dug around inside of it. Finally, she found exactly what she was searching for… a business card, a little crumpled from spending weeks inside her purse. It was solid black and the phone number upon it was still easily readable. She pulled her phone free and dialed. Unsurprisingly, it went straight to voicemail.

"This is Barbara Gordon. I-I want to talk. I'm free at the end of the week, on Friday. My work ends at four that afternoon, at the Gotham University Library."

She disconnected the call, just staring as the number flashed briefly and vanished from the screen. She pulled the cell close, holding it against her chest. She had done it. She had contacted one of the last people she should contact if she wanted to keep things the way they had been with Joker. But she had to know. And Joker's own worst enemy, the Batman, was the only way she was going to get any answers.

Now, she could only wait and do what she could to comfort Sarah.