III - The Joker Doesn't Have Many Friends

Jim Gordon knew that something was wrong the moment he heard her laugh from inside his apartment. He didn't immediately recognise the high pitched squeal, or the ream of heavily accented exclamation that followed, but he knew the chill on the back of his neck. Commissioner Gordon opened the door, "Amy?" he hoped it was her, but he knew it wasn't.

"Hi daddy," said the kids in unison.

"Hey handsome, where have you been all my life?"

Jim Gordon blinked. He knew the voice; that distinctive, whiney, Brooklyn tang.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with little Jim and Barbara completing the circle. The three of them were playing Texas Hold'em, by the look of it. The young woman was wearing a pink cocktail dress and matching heels. Her blonde hair was half-up and curly, around her pretty, deceptively innocent face.

"Hey!" Barbara pointed an accusing finger at the hem of Harley's skirt, where she was trying to hide a card in the lace, "You're cheating!"

"What?! No I'm not," said Harley.

"There aren't five aces in a deck!" Jim said confidently.

Gordon shook himself out of his haze, "Where is Amy?" he demanded. He could place the voice indefinitely now, but he had only ever met Harley Quinn once when she was out of costume, back when she used to be Dr. Harleen Quinzel. It took him a few seconds to piece it all together and figure out that this was all really happening.

"Amy's dead," Harley said simply, "Why don't you take a load off… I'm sure it's been a hard day at work, and you've got a stressful night ahead of you, sugah."

The kids looked concerned now. They could see the fear on their father's face. "…My wife?"

"Sit down, Commish."

"No, I want to know what's going on," he said firmly, he couldn't be certain that Harley was alone. The Joker usually had a couple of goons with him, and they could easily be hidden in the back.

"You ain't exactly in the best position to make demands, are ya?" Harley whipped a silver gun from the lacy garter under her skirt, and turned it—not toward Gordon—but onto little Barbara.

Gordon held up his hands, ready to plead. His throat felt tight and sick with dread as the anger boiled up in his stomach, having to look at his girl's terrified eyes peering down the barrel of the gun.

"Sit down," said Harley firmly, "I don't wanna shoot no one, but you know I will."

The Commissioner sat down on the couch.

"Relax, I can't stand all this serious moodiness. If you're gonna go out, go out with a smile on your face, right?" Harley grinned at her captives, "We all eventually get dragged offstage by that big hook from the sky."

"Or from below," said little Jim pointedly.

Harley looked at the boy sharply and raised an eyebrow. "Aha. A mouth on this one, I see."

"Uh, he remembers being held at gunpoint before… She was probably too little," Gordon had to say something, he had to talk to her. Harleen Quinzel had to still be under all this psychosis. He'd read about her… what did he remember? "You were an only child."

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"I just remember a few things from your file. Your parents enrolled you in gymnastics really young."

"No kiddin' I was young. Too young to deal with all that structure. Don't try and shrink a shrink, Jimmy." She glared at him with those bright blues, shaded exquisitely by long lashes; so black they were almost an iridescent night-sky blue.

"Why The Joker, Harley? You could have done anything with your mind and your potential."

"I told you. Too much structure. I developed a taste for breaking the rules," she smirked, "Besides; he makes me laugh."

(Warning: The following line is 100 Mark Hamill.)

"Honey, I'm home." The Joker had appeared in the doorway, knife between his palm and the top of the doorframe. His make-up was about as fresh and immaculate as it ever got; still a mess.

The terror and panic of the Commissioner and his children was juxtaposed very jarringly with a happy squeal from Harley, who leapt immediately to his side, fixing the collar of his suit lovingly and giving him a quick peck on the cheek before she said, "Mistah J, I can't tell ya how excited it makes me to hear you soundin' all… domestic!"

He tweaked her nose with his armed hand; the blade parted her fringe over her eyes. He steeped past Harley and toward the Commissioner. What would subdue him? Offering money or, anything really, at all, would only encourage The Joker towards violence against them. If Gordon took a chance and attacked the maniac, then someone would most definitely get hurt—probably one of the little ones.

"Commissioner, it's been a while." He sounded almost like a normal person, greeting an acquaintance, as if he'd come upon him unexpectedly, "What lovely angels," he cast his shadow over the children, "Little uh… Jim, and Barbara."

Their eyes were looking wide at what had to be an incarnation of the bogeyman; the real one, who their father went to war against, everyday.

"That's so quaint. Naming the children after their parents, and look!" he snatched a photograph of the Commissioner and his wife off of the wall, "They look like mini-mom n' dad. Charming." He tossed the picture unceremoniously on the floor, a tinkling indicated that the glass in the frame had cracked and shattered on the floor. The Joker had descended right onto Gordon and clasped his face in his gloved hands, the knife balanced between his fingers, against Gordon's skin. "I've been meaning… to have a serious discussion with you."

Harley was supposed to be watching the kids, but it was hard not to be distracted by The Joker when he did his thing. So, she was as surprised as everyone else when Barbara appeared (the top of her head didn't even reach her dad or The Joker's hip) with a baseball bat from the pile of toys in the corner of the room.

"Let go of my daddy!" she shrieked, striking the bat against The Joker, who didn't even flinch from the blow.

"I. Hate. Bats." He snatched the bat from her and tossed it over his shoulder. "Shhh, shhshshush. shush." The Joker knelt down, pulling Barbara into what might have looked like a comforting hug, under different circumstances.

"DON'T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!" Gordon nearly lunged forward on top of The Joker, but found his path obstructed by Harley and the silver 45" she had stowed under her skirt. She was staring Gordon down, with one hand on The Joker's back.

"Screaming is so, so. So. So unwise for you right now, Babs. Barbie. Hush." He said again as she squealed into his shoulder. The blade of his knife was half buried in her lovely strawberry blonde tresses. "If you scream again…" The Joker pulled away from his six-year-old captive—but she had bitten him and still had a mouthful of his purple suit between her teeth. Her face was puffy and red with terror and futile child-rage, the corners of her eyes were brimming with tears. The Joker pulled the cloth from her mouth, "If you scream again, Baarbeee, I will have to put your tongue in my pocket."

Batman was their only hope. Gordon would just have to stall for time and hope that something tipped the Dark Knight off to check on the Commissioner and his family.

It was a long shot; too long.

The sound of a cell phone ringing made the entire room halt, except for The Joker, who very nonchalantly reached into the commissioner's coat and pulled out his cell-phone. He glanced at the name, "it's work," he told Gordon, casually lifting to phone to his ear, "Hello?" he answered in a fairly impressive impersonation of the Commissioner. "…I see… I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up, "Heeehehehehehehahahaha, hohohoheh he!"

Gordon was afraid to ask what, but new hope rushed through him, as he imagined that whoever was on the other line might guess that it wasn't really the Commissioner on the other end. Maybe he could stall for enough time for the precinct to worry about him and come to make sure nothing was wrong. However, The Joker's laughter took all such hope from him for a moment. Whatever made The Joker happy couldn't be good news. "You poor boys, do have such a problem hanging onto your prisoners, don't you?"

The Joker himself was the last criminal to ever escape while in the custody of Gordon's precinct. Who was it this time?

"Ms. Kyle?"

The Joker didn't answer, but glanced at Harley. "Keep them close. So they can hear." He grabbed Gordon by the shoulder, his grip was a crushing force, pinching Gordon's collarbone painfully. It felt like it might snap. The first shock of pain went through Gordon from The Joker's violent hands and he knew that there was much more to come.

The Joker only travelled a couple of feet to the bathroom, where he shoved Gordon down hard onto the linoleum floor. Gordon felt his head connect with the edge of the tub, knocking him into a pain-soaked daze, before The Joker leapt on top of him, stomping down on his stomach hard.

Gordon felt all the air forced out of his lungs, he wheezed and coughed violently, but didn't cry out as the pain spread through him. He couldn't make any sound of pain—as long as his children were right there in the hallway, able to hear and see everything, he had to be strong. The Joker's boot slammed into his face; golden haze blossomed over his eyes and faded to crimson and black, his nose had shattered under the blow and the dark blood was flowing down his face in a red waterfall onto the white floor, dripping onto his tense, shaking knuckles.

The Joker sat on the edge of the bathtub and turned the knob all the way over to the cold side. He shoved the stopper into the drain, flicked a few droplets of water from his fingertips and hoisted the Commissioner up into a sitting position beside the tub.

The Joker dusted Gordon's Jacket off as the tub began to fill with the freezing water from the tap. "I don't have many friends," he said conversationally, momentarily adding a bird-like trill into the crackling laugh of language that poured from his throat. "But you… Commissioner, we both know that you're a likable guy. You've got this uh, precious little circle. Of people. All around you. Have you ever thought about who your best. Best. Friend is? Because… I think, that you and The Batman are close…" he lifted his hands up and laced his fingers together, bringing his hands in front of Gordon's bloody face, "Close… like this."

Gordon lifted his head. Through the blurry mess of blood and sweat on his face, he could see his children waiting outside of the room, wrapped in each other's arms, tears streaming down their terrified faces, as Harley kept her hands locked around both of them, peering at the spectacle from over their beautiful heads.

Barbara was sobbing, but trying to keep quiet, The Joker's warning still angry in her ears.

"Tell me. James. Tell me who The Batman. Is."

pretendlikeallthisbigboldfontstuffisabreakylinelikeiusuallyhavehere

Fun Fact: I am madly in love with Gary Oldman today

Song of the Chapter: There's this great Beatles&Nine Inch Nails Mash-Up "Come Closer Together". Look it up if you haven't heard it before and if your cute little ears don't cry when bad words come into them. (Innocence is adorable, I'm not dissing you. Mwah.)

This song is great, and I choose it as the Song of the Chapter.