Wendy came home later that night, humming to herself as she took off her coat and hung it up. She walked into the living room and found her Uncle Jack sitting on the couch. He was reading the newspaper, holding a dry martini in one hand. Wendy walked over to the mirror and fixed her hair, still humming the same tune she heard on the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie the other night.

"How was the date?" Jack asked her, not looking away from his newspaper.

"Well, it wasn't supposed to be a date, but...", Wendy turned around and leaned her back against the wall, a starry-eyed look on her face. She sighed dreamily and proclaimed, "Arthur Fleck is the most wonderful man in the world."

"That's great, I'm happy for ya", said Jack in an uninterested tone. He drank from his martini glass and set it down on the coffee table. He turned a page and asked her, "What about the other guy?"

Wendy blinked, frowning and looking over in his direction. She walked over to her uncle and asked him, "What other guy?"

"The one that beat the crap out of you? You didn't see him tonight?"

"No, why would I?" Wendy questioned him. "Unless he was one of the clowns we sighted out there, I didn't see him. He's history, anyway. I'm with Arthur now, and he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"You still talkin' about that boy from downtown you asked me to help bail out?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"The one with the scar on his face?"

Wendy blinked again, her brows furrowing together in confusion. "Scar? What scar?"

"I saw his face, Wendy. The man has a scar over his upper lip. Either he was born with it or somebody fucked him up when he was a kid."

Wendy rolled her eyes in annoyance and scoffed, "Uncle Jack, it's a birthmark, not a scar. And what does Arthur's looks have to do with anything?"

Jack lowered the newspaper into his lap and turned his head to his left, giving her a smirk and trying not to loose patience with his talkative, lovesick niece. "Well, I'm just intrigued with your little fuck buddy, that's all."

"Uncle Jack!" Wendy exclaimed, sounding shocked and offended.

"Don't give me that, you brought this onto yourself. I don't know what it is about you women, but you have the tendency to pick out the ugliest-looking guys you can find out there."

"Uncle Jack, you're despicable! You're treating me like I'm some kind of a child, like I can't make my own decisions. I'm a grown-up woman of twenty-seven, I expect you treat me like one."

"Well, maybe you don't realize the kind of pressure I'm under. If I didn't have to sit here listening to you rambling about a guy, I'd be out there running the show and trying to get better control of the city, and you'd be out there trying to survive on your own without a penny to your name. Now why don't you get out of my face and go do your job, toots?"

"The diner's closed for the night, moron. I'm going to bed."

Wendy turned and was about ready to walk away, but then heard her uncle saying, "Who gave you permission to leave the room?"

Wendy stopped and turned back and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Jack made a 'come hither' gesture with his index finger. Wendy wasn't too sure about that, but went back over to him, knowing that he was up to no good again.

"Answer me this, kid", said Jack. "Has Arthur asked about me?"

"Not lately, but I don't tell him anything he shouldn't know."

"Does he ever question you about me?"

Wendy shook her head. "No."

"That's good", said Jack. "Because I'm sure you've taken a hint by now about what I do for a living. Which is why I want you to listen real careful to what I'm about to say."

"Before you do", said Wendy, cutting him off. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" She was sick and tired of his verbal abuse and wanted to tell him off. "I mean, no offense, but you doesn't exactly seem like the type of guy who works in a chemical plant. You wear a nice suit and work in a place that produces poison. Don't you consider that dangerous, with all the toxics and fumes and shit? Just what exactly is it that you do, Uncle Jack, huh?"

Somewhere during the middle of her questioning, Jack lost his smirk and looked at her with calm, deliberate stoicism. "I wouldn't worry your pretty little head over that, kid. I told you once before I didn't want you hanging around there. The chemicals in that place will mess you up, but not as bad as the stuff I could do to you."

"What do you mean?" Wendy asked him suspiciously, not liking the way he said that.

Jack removed the newspaper off his lap, revealing that he was holding a .38 automatic in his left hand, pointing it directly at her stomach. One pull of the trigger and she would be dead, or maybe even paralyzed.

Wendy gasped in shock and lost all confidence, her eyes widening in fear.

"Don't move", Jack warned her, pushing the barrel closer to her abdomen. Wendy obeyed him, not daring to move a muscle. This wasn't the loving uncle like she thought he would be, this was a lunatic. A madman. "I warned you about poking your nose into business where it doesn't belong and asking questions about me. While you're here, you don't ask shit about my personal or private life. I haven't forget what you did back there at Axis, making me look weak in front of Grissom. This is the second time you've overstepped your boundaries, woman. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll blow your brains right out of your goddamn skull and dump your body into the Gotham East River. Now, do I make myself clear?"

Wendy breathed unevenly, swallowing and whispering in a small, frightened voice, "I already knew that you were a gangster, but nobody else has to know...I won't tell anybody, I swear...Uncle Jack, just...please..."

"Please what?" Jack asked her, menacingly. "You think I would hurt you, Wendy? I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to give you a warning. One more stunt like that again and you're fucked. Do you get the picture?"

Wendy didn't say anything, but nodded her head in vigorous agreement. Her body trembled.

An evil smile appeared on Jack's face. He lowered his weapon and said, "Good girl. Now before you go to bed, I want you to do your Uncle Jack a favor. I want you to move your pretty little ass over there and fetch me a glass of ice and some bourbon. You think you can do that, Wendy? You're not too busy tonight, are you?"

Wendy shook her head and answered timidly, "No, Uncle Jack." She turned and went over, putting some ice into a glass and pouring some bourbon into it with a shaky hand. She went back over and handed Jack his drink.

"Thanks, kitten. Now get the hell out of my sight."

Wendy nodded and slowly backed away from him until her back came in contact with the door. She felt for the handle and opened the door from behind and went into her room, shutting the door and locking it. She turned and leaned her back against the door, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and felt tears leak out from underneath her eyelids, taking a sharp inhale of breath and placing a hand over her mouth. She felt like crying, but choked down on the sobs begging to be released from her body. She took a deep breath and calmed down a bit and opened her eyes, tilting her head back and putting a hand over her beating heart. She tried to take her mind off of her fear of her uncle and thought about Arthur, wishing that she was still with him. She wished she never came home.

Arthur had a wonderful time with Wendy on their date tonight. He wasn't expecting anything outside of her coming to see him at the comedy club, but after he messed up his act, Wendy decided to make it up to him. They walked around and talked and went to a movie and had coffee together. It wasn't much, but it was the most fun he had in a long time. It was the perfect evening, even if it didn't exactly go according to his plan. For once in his life, Arthur had a good day. There was only one thing left to do to make it a perfect day.

Arthur walked into his apartment and locked the door, taking his coat off and hanging it up. He went into the living room and tossed his journal on the coffee table. His mother was sleeping in her chair. The TV was on. Murray Franklin was closing the show for the night. Ah, I missed it, Arthur thought to himself. He brushed it off, however, and enjoyed the last few seconds of the program, just in time to hear the closing line.

"Good night, folks, and always remember: that's life."

"That's life", Arthur mimicked quietly. He moved to the jazzy music for a bit and turned his attention over to his mother, waking her up and helping her to her feet. "Come on, Mom. Time to go to bed."

His mother murmured something and allowed Arthur to dance around with her for a while. He held her close, slowly leading her into a turn.

"I wrote a new letter to Thomas Wayne."

"Come on, Momma. Dance with me."

The end credits music played an instrumental version of Frank Sinatra's That Life as Arthur continued to dance with his mother. His mother laughed a bit, which made Arthur smile. He hummed to himself, feeling very much alive and in love. He didn't feel quite so depressed anymore. After a long week of bad misfortune and constant depression, he was actually enjoying himself for once.

"You smell like cologne", his mother noticed.

"Well, Mom, it's because I've just been on a date", said Arthur. His mother reminded him to deliver the letter and told him she was going to bed.

Arthur stopped dancing and continued to think about the wonderful time he had with Wendy. He thought about asking her out again, but needed some time to think about it. Right now, he focused his attention on the letter.

Arthur went over and turned off the TV and sat down in his mother's chair, eying the letter she had written to Thomas Wayne. She had been writing to him for years and never once did Arthur think to look at any of them. He picked up the envelope and opened it carefully to see what it said. He read it to himself. "Dear Thomas, there is a definite possibility that I will die soon..." His heart skipped a beat, fearing that his mother would not be here for very much longer. He knew she was sick, but not like this. He kept on reading. "I've sent you dozens of letters...I know how much pain and suffering our love caused...I understand that this might lead me to ridicule, but your son and I need your help."

Arthur stayed locked on those two words for a long while. Your son? How could this be so? All his life he never had a father, and now he was just hearing about the fact that he was possibly related to the most famous man in Gotham City? He stopped reading the letter at that point, wanting to crumble it up, tear it apart, do something. He was shocked upon discovering this tiny bit of information, but he was mostly angry. He should have felt happy about it, but that wasn't the case. If his mother knew all along who his father was, then why didn't she say anything? Arthur wanted to curse her out so badly right now. He hated her for keeping it a secret from him.

"Happy", his mother called out, walking back into the living room. "Happy, I just wanted to..." She became concerned upon seeing him with his head down like that, like he was sad. "Happy? What's wrong?"

Arthur slowly looked up at his mother, but there was neither sadness nor love to be found in his eyes. Only hatred.

His mother looked at him with confusion, noticing the paper in his hand. "Is that my letter?" She asked him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur questioned her furiously, his voice dangerously low.

"What are you doing with my letter?" His mother questioned him.

Arthur said nothing and just sat there, glaring back at the woman who raised him. He rose up from the chair and went over to confront his mother and asked, "Why didn't you say anything, Mom?"

His mother lowered her gaze, turning her head and looking away as though she were in a trance, her head in the clouds.

Loosing patience, Arthur grabbed his mother by her forearms and shook her violently, screaming at the top of his lungs, "TELL ME THE TRUTH! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?!"

Turning away, Arthur's mother somehow managed to pull herself out of his tight grip and walked fast to her bedroom. Arthur followed after her, saying, "Mom, come back here!"

"You could have killed me", his mother told him, shutting the door and locking herself in. "You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

Arthur started pounding on the door and screamed at her, "DON'T GIVE ME THAT BULLSHIT, MOM! COME OUT OF THERE, RIGHT NOW!"

"No!" Arthur's mother protested. "I'm not talking to you until you stop being angry!"

Arthur turned around and walked away for a minute, taking a deep breath and saying, "Okay." He heard the tenant upstairs pounding on the ceiling and telling him to shut the fuck up. Arthur turned back again and said calmly, "Okay." He walked back over to his mother's bedroom and placed his hand gently on the door, touching his forehead to it, as well.

"I'm not angry, Mom", said Arthur, softly. "I'm not angry. Please, Mom?"

A moment of silence passed between them. As Arthur tried to make sense of the fact that he was possibly Thomas Wayne's son, his mother took her time in trying to find the right way to reveal to him her side of the story.

"He's an extraordinary man, Happy", his mother said at last. "And very powerful...And we were in love...And...I could never tell anybody, because...Well, I...I signed some papers...Besides, you can imagine what people would say about Thomas and me...What they say about you."

"What would they say, Mom?" Arthur asked her, softly. He didn't care how much it hurt. He only wanted to hear the truth. "What would they say?"

"That...That I was a whore...and you were just an unwanted bastard", his mother answered.

Those words stabbed Arthur like a knife to the heart. It made it even worse when he heard his mother crying behind the door. He winced, feeling as though an invisible blade were twisting itself inside him. He didn't mean to make her so upset. He was confused about everything, including his love life. That was all that was said between them the rest of the night.