Chapter 6: Broke Down

Broke down, thought that I would drown

Hope that I've been found, fore I hit the ground

Sun rays out the corner of my eye, hey

Saw you weeping, saw you creeping

Saw you sneaking in the shadow's dawn

I feel so strong

- "Reaper", Sia

"Let's get down to business." I said, slapping a big yellow legal pad on the table.

"To defeat the Huns?"

"Solid reference, but focus."

Pam and I were sprawled on the couch in the hotel room that we were utilizing while we were in New York, me attempting to map out the plan for her Mamma Mia style paternity excitement. The Joker was out doing Joker things which I never pretend to understand. He makes himself conveniently absent for these types of moments, mostly because he didn't agree with what we were doing.

"I don't agree with what you're doing," he said as he walked out the door that morning, "Bye."

"He's a careless con anyway." I said dismissively.

"I just feel like we're opening a can of worms with this situation." Pam said, shoveling some strawberry ice cream into her mouth.

"Slow down, you have plenty of time to get fat." I said, raising an eyebrow.

She glared at me and then flung a small spattering of ice cream at me.

I jumped, "Jesus Christ, woman, are your hormones that wonky?!"

"I have to guess so." She said, and then licked the spoon.

"Ok, well, I can't judge because I have repeatedly abandoned my boyfriend and child, so I'm just going to let that go."

"That's very big of you."

"Anyway, I really think you need to find out who the father is. I don't think your future unborn chunky plumpy baby should go through life not knowing who its father is. Also, if he's shitty, you can avoid them ever dealing with him and ending up like my good-for-nothing boyfriend."

"Well, first of all, do not call my fetus chunky. It's not possible for it to be chunky yet. Second of all, you and Bruce Wayne had excellent fathers and you are both very, very fucked up."

"As are you."

"Good point. So, I don't think the paternity thing makes a huge difference."

"But, listen – what if you guys like met back up and it was super magical and you got married? It would be amazing." I said, literally getting starry-eyed with joy.

"This is not a Hollywood rom-com where I am played by Amy Adams and the mystery guy I drunkenly slept with at a bar is like Ryan Gosling or something. Although, I would totally watch that movie. Besides the point. What if he's a total dickweed?"

"We have to find out who he is for us to ensure that he is not, as you say, a total dickweed."

"Fair." She shrugged, then she paled, "Hang on."

She then vomited into her empty ice cream container.

She looked up at me, "I am rotting from the inside out. This baby is trying to kill me."

"Well, she already takes after you." I retorted, and she picked up the ice cream container as if she was going to pitch it at me, and I scurried off the couch, "NO WAY YOU ARE THROWING VOMIT AT ME PAMELA, NO WAY!"

"It shut you up, didn't it?" she smirked, and put it down on the table.

"Lord help me." I hesitantly perched back on the edge of the arm of the couch, "Ok, let's review. There are three possible candidates. Today we will hit number one, who is…?"

"Adam, the law…person."

"Your memory is terrible."

"There was way too much tequila involved."

"Never ends well." I affirmed, "Pretty sure that's how Liv was conceived."

"Stunning." She said, wrinkling her nose.

"I do have sex with my boyfriend."

"Not enough, I gather." She said, looking introspectively into her own vomit.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

"I kind of overheard what you guys were arguing about the airport." She replied, "And also he told me." She added quickly.

"You guys should not be that close. It's not ok for me."

"What's your deal? Too dry down there?"

"Ew what? What the fuck?"

"I've had that problem."

"I don't want to know that."

"Girl, just have sex with him, please. I am not interested in hearing about your lack of sex life."

"Neither am I. I think that might be the issue, now that I ponder it." I shook my head, "Let's focus on you. You're the one who's knocked up with a mystery man's child."

"Keep reminding me, that's so kind. I quite love it." She said wryly.

"Ok, do you have the address for law person?"

"Yeah, I looked him up this morning. He works at some big fancy law firm in Manhattan, not super far from here."

"Sounds promising." I clapped my hands together. I stood up, "Ok, let's get ready and get moving!"

"I don't feel well." She groaned, face-planting herself on the couch.

"This is not the time, hon. We gots to go." I said, gesturing toward the front door.

"No quiero." ("I don't want to")

"No me importa si quieres o no, Pamela, pero vamos!" ("I don't care if you want to or not, Pamela, but we're going!")

"Ugh," was her eloquent response.

"I am not messing around, what is your fucking problem?" I asked, leaning over her, "Are you scared?"

"I am never scared, Harleen." She said, opening one eye, "You know that."

"Yes, but you're acting weird."

…

We walked down the sunny Manhattan streets, ready to meet candidate number one in the quest for Pamela's child's paternity – I know, seriously, it's strange even for us, and our exes fucked each other.

He worked in this building off Wall Street. When I had arrived, I had stopped, puzzled.

"This building looks really familiar, yeah?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, it would be familiar because this is where my lawyer's office was." Pam said distractedly, suddenly looking very interested in her phone.

"Are you ok? You look weird."

"Well, I'm fucking nervous, obviously." She said, almost sputtering. She pushed me past me to get into the building. Curiouser and curiouser, indeed.

Pam brushed through the lobby like it was nobody's business. She seemed like she knew where she was going, which concerned me slightly. Like…how would she know unless she'd been to the guy's office before?

I grabbed her shoulder, halting her. She spun around, "What?!"

"Girl, you need to cool it. We have to go into this with a plan."

"What plan? Plans are dumb." She said. Her fast was fast, her breathing a little shallow.

"Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? You were just fine until we got here."

Pam's eyes glanced away from me for a moment, and then widened. She paled visibly. I turned to see what she was looking at, and I locked eyes with Justin, Pam's lawyer.

I waved at him.

Pam hissed, "Are you kidding me?! I am supposed to be in Arkham Asylum right now and I am standing in the lobby of his building! He's going to call the cops!"

"Oh shit." I muttered. Completely forgot about her being an escaped convict briefly.

Justin came over to us. He was on the phone.

"I will call you back, John." He hung up. He folded his arms across his chest, "Would you care to come with me to my office, ladies?"

"Yes, that would be grand." I said boldly, and followed him.

Pam was still almost rooted to the ground in her defiance.

I gestured at her more vehemently, and she finally moved her ass. I mean, I was scared too, but I wasn't going to act like it. This could very easily blow up in our faces. We had to strategize. I was running through all possible scenarios in my head as we went into the elevator and up to Justin's office on the 5th floor.

We went into his office and he closed the door firmly behind us. He sat down in his chair behind his desk, and put his face in his palms for a few seconds. He sighed deeply and looked up at us, "What the hell is going on?"

"That's a good question." I started.

Pam put her hand up, "Stop, Harley. We have to cut to the chase."

"Ok…" I said hesitantly.

"Look, Justin, there's no easy way to say this. Harley helped me escape from Arkham."

"Harley Quinn? I thought you said she was out of the country!"

Pam literally face-palmed, "Oh, well, shit, um…"

"I am Harley Quinn." I said, giving him an awkward, toothy smile.

"I…well, I kind of assumed, actually. I just couldn't prove it. You did look an awful lot like the picture I'd seen of Dr. Quinzel." Justin said, shaking his head, "I suppose I shouldn't be shocked."

"Yeah, knowing us, you really shouldn't be."

"So, you're the one who used to date Bruce Wayne?"

"Was engaged to Bruce Wayne." I mumbled.

"And you left him for the Joker?"

"Sure did."

"And…that's still a thing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed it is. We have a daughter, actually." I said, showing him the background picture on my phone, "Her name is Olivia."

"Well, then." He said, "Ok, um, what is stopping me from calling the police on you two right now?"

"Because Pam is pregnant." I blurted out.

Pam and Justin both went the exact same shade of white after that statement was declared.

I stared at Pam.

I stared at Justin.

I stared at Pam again.

It was like a literal lightbulb appeared above my head. The building, the anxiety Pam was feeling this morning, it all added up. She knew exactly who the father was, and he was sitting right in front of me.

"YOU SONS OF BITCHES." I jumped up, "You are fucking kidding me! You made me believe that this was a Mamma Mia thing, but you knew all along he was the baby daddy!"

"I…yeah, I did." Pam turned to face Justin, "So, um, hi daddy." Then she threw up in the trash can next to his desk.

It was just a lovely moment. Really, I wish I had brought my camera. It would make such a nice thing to frame.

There was a beat of silence that was palpable, almost pulsating. It was so quiet that you could hear people in the next office having a conversation about how someone made an error in the Mets game last night. Not that I care. Yankees all the way, though.

"Oh my God." Justin finally said, running a hand through his hair, "Pam."

"Yeah, oops."

"Oops is all you can say?" I asked incredulously.

"I mean, it was an oops." Pam clarified.

"How…how did this come about?" I inquired, "Help me understand."

"Well, he would come to the prison all the time, obviously, to prep me with stuff for the case. I couldn't really deny that I was attracted to him." Pam said, "And I was a fucking mess, Harley. You know that. I was vulnerable after Selina left me."

"What?" Justin asked, his voice hollow, "Selina as in Selina Kyle, as in Catwoman?"

"Yeah, we were married." Pam shrugged.

"Dude, you don't want to go down this rabbit hole." I said, exhaling deeply, "It only gets weirder from here."

Justin looked like he also wanted to puke in the trash can. I didn't really blame him.

"Ok, buddy, here's the deal." I said, sitting up straighter, "I wasn't expecting this. Pam lied to me and told me she didn't know who the father was. That was obviously wrongo-bongo, so we're moving on from that. Now that I do know, I've got a fucking bone to pick with you. You are a Class-A dickbag for sleeping with my friend while she was in PRISON. That's super assaulty, and I don't appreciate it. Also, she was your client. That goes against so many ethical things or whatever that it's making my head spin. Sleeping with your client who is in federal prison and also is mentally unstable? I am sure that the New York State Legal Board would just love to hear about that. I think I'll rip up that Stanford Law diploma you have so nicely framed up there myself and make you eat it. You are going to pay fucking big time for this."

"Harley, for God sakes!" Pam exclaimed, jumping up, "You don't even know the whole story!"

"I know that he took advantage of you and that's all I need to hear!" I snapped, "You don't get it. You were a victim!"

"I was no victim, I wanted him to have sex with me! It was 100 percent consensual!"

"Nothing is consensual when you are behind bars, you should know better than that!"

Justin stood up fast, his chair scraping backwards.

"Listen, you two!" Justin said, holding his hand up.

We stopped bickering and looked at him.

"First of all, you two cannot come in here and start accusing me of something that you can't prove." He began.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I retorted.

"You – and I mean, Pam – you need to provide me concrete proof that you are indeed pregnant, and when it's possible, proof that I am the father. I am more than willing to submit to the test, no questions asked."

"I think that's fair." Pam affirmed.

"And if it is my child, which it may well be, I am willing to assume responsibility for the care of the child. I am not a deadbeat. You are not going to come into my office and threaten me without proof. I will not be blackmailed." He said, clenching his fists, "I cannot believe this has happened, but I have to accept my mistake and live with it. I am upset, I am furious with myself for giving into my baser urges, but I know how people like you two operate."

I glared at him, my eyes fierce, "Just because we are criminals doesn't mean we aren't people, Justin. We weren't going to blackmail you."

He gave me a deadpan look.

"…unless you turned out to be the father." I finished under my breath.

"That's what I thought."

"Hello!" Pam interjected, "I am the mother here. I am part of this. Doesn't anyone want to hear my opinion about this?"

"Oh yeah sorry, Pam, my bad. Go for it."

She glared daggers at me, "You don't get to speak for me. This is my body and my child. I can decide what I want to do in this situation."

"Yeah, but you're vulnerable and emotionally compromised, honey, you don't know what you want."

"Harley, please leave." She said quietly, firmly, "You're done."

I made a flustered sound that was somewhat a gasp and somewhat a grunt, not 100 percent sure which, "I'm sorry?"

"I think she's asking you to leave so we can talk." Justin said.

I snapped, "Yeah, I get that, dickhole. I just can't believe-"

"Harley, please." Pam said again.

I got to my feet and snarled, "Fine, but you know I'm not happy about it."

"Bye." Justin said loudly and obnoxiously.

I flipped him the bird as I closed the door.

I stood there for a moment, flabbergasted. Pam didn't know how to handle this shit by herself. She clearly had poor decision-making skills when picking people to bone, and this was the prime example. I grumbled some expletives to myself, and turned on my heel to head for the lobby to get a coffee.

What I didn't expect to see when I turned was someone I really, really didn't feel like seeing at this point in my day, or really ever, for that matter.

Bruce goddamn motherfucking stupid-ass bitch cock-sucking Wayne was there in the hall, frozen to his spot.

"Son of a bitch." We said at the same time.

"Harleen."

"Bruce." I sighed deeply, "Of course this is how this day was going to go."

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question." I retorted, cracking my neck in a very subtle attempt to be menacing, "However, I'm not really in the mood to scrap with you today."

"Gee, lucky me." His voice oozed sardonically.

It made me almost want to ball up my fist and punch him square in the nose. Or in the balls. Good thing I had two hands.

I leaned against the wall, "Why is it that we have to run into each other at the most utterly inconvenient times?"

"One might call it dramatic irony."

"One might stick their foot up your butt."

"Catty clapbacks don't suit you, Harleen."

"Oh, really now, I can think of something catty that used to suit you." I said, inspecting my nails. Dude, I bite my cuticles A LOT. That's gross.

He swallowed hard, "I guess I have to give you that one."

I looked up, "Ah, admitting defeat?"

"For this split second in time." He gritted his teeth.

"Are you here to see Justin?" I inquired, feeling incredibly smug.

"Yes." He said curtly.

"Care to expound on your thesis statement, Mr. Wayne?"

"I do not. Would you care to explain why you are here?"

"I would not."

"Then it seems we are at an impasse." Bruce said, putting his hands in his pockets. He looked impeccable as usual in his Armani navy blue suit.

"New color on you." I commented.

"Yes, I am trying to expand my wardrobe."

"New girlfriend?" I asked snidely.

His face blanched in a very conspicuous way.

I snorted, "How could I guess? God, you're such a dick. Just move on to the next one. Buy her some diamonds and shit, she'll stick around."

"It is so much more complicated than that." He shook his head.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the door creaked open and Pamela emerged. She also halted when she saw me talking to Bruce.

"Oh." She breathed.

"Hello, Pam." Bruce nodded.

"Bruce." She squared her shoulders, "What are you doing here?"

"Same goes for you two."

"Again, we are not answering that." I interjected, "Pam, we're going."

"Alright." She said. She took a step forward and then held up her finger. She then dry-heaved into the potted plant behind me.

"Stunning." I remarked.

She gave me the finger, still hunched over the plant.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "What's up with her?"

"She just has the flu." I replied, helping Pam stand up straight.

"Oh, it cannot be just that. Why would the two of you show up here to talk to Justin if Pam was sick?" he then looked Pam over, and his eyes widened in recognition, "Well, son of a bitch."

"You know nothing, Jon Snow." I snapped.

He chuckled to himself, "Wow, who knocked her up?"

"How did you know?" Pam asked weakly.

"Powers of deduction. Vomiting, fuller breasts, the general demeanor." He shrugged.

"Well, thanks for at least noticing my boobs." She said, staring down at them.

I snarled, "Bruce, stay out of our fucking business."

"Then you stay out of mine." He stepped forward, not three inches from my face, "Wherever you go, Harleen Quinzel, you always bring trouble. I don't need your bullshit anymore."

"Get out of my fucking way." I shoved past him, "Come on, Pam."

I hadn't gotten two steps toward the end of the hallway when a figure rounded the stairs.

Jesus Christ.

No, sorry, that was misleading.

It was Barbara Gordon.