Chapter 8 – The Upward Turn?

Joker was sitting at his desk staring blankly at the empty sheet of paper in front of him. Harley was pissed at him, the mob was targeting him, Black Mask was seeking restitution and worst of all he was completely out of coke to boot. He just couldn't seem to come up with any useable ideas to screw the mob before they screwed him. Since Batsy died he just didn't have any motivation to scheme. Harvey was right though, he really needed to get his head out of his ass. He was the Clown Prince of Crime, he owned Gotham, this was HIS city and those greedy Italian bastards, Carmine Falcone and Salvatore Maroni, were not getting their hands on what was his. He needed to come up with something and soon. He needed to find some inspiration but how?

Across town in the Palisades Dick Grayson was doing everything he could to help Bruce regain his memory. They had flipped through the family photo albums, walked through the manor several times, Dick had told Bruce stories of times they had shared together but so far nothing was working. Alfred had forbidden him from bringing Bruce into the cave or of mentioning his alter ego. Alfred felt talking about Batman would be a major liability until his memory came back. Not knowing better he could accidentally reveal something that destroyed their cover story. Dick understood but it was still driving him nuts. He thought the cave if nothing else would be the thing to bring him back around.

Damian watched the goings on from a distance with an air of nonchalance that couldn't be farther from the truth. Damian's relationship with his father had been very strained leading up to his disappearance. They had been arguing both at home and on the job. That was why Robin was not with Batman the night of the Gotham Towers bombing. They had a particularly bad argument. Bruce was not a loving and patient guardian; he was cold, rigid and structured. Damian, although he would never say it out loud, was just dying for his father's love, affection and acceptance, something Bruce was barely capable of. Dick was more of a father figure to him than Bruce had even been. It didn't stop him from craving that kind of relationship with his father. Since Damian knew he could never win his father over in traditional ways he pushed himself to ridiculous limits, holding himself to exceptionally high standards, not just in his regular studies but also in his combat and detective skills, hoping to at least earn his respect and maybe even some small praise at his efficiency.

Bruce did love his son, but he wasn't good at expressing it. His way of loving his son was trying to protect him. So he left Robin at home for important missions or placed him in an out of the way position to keep him away from the worst of the situation. In Damian's eyes he was being underutilized because his father didn't trust him or felt he was inadequate in some way. The stubbornness each possessed kept either one from expressing their true feelings, so of course the resentment between them began to slowly grow. It had come to a head three days before the Gotham Towers bombing.

They were in the sewers beneath the Bowery tracking Waylon Jones a.k.a. Killer Croc. Damian, hoping to impress his father, snuck off to take Croc down on his own. He found the creature and set up a trap for him, using himself as bait. When Batman arrived on the scene he saw Croc holding his son by his neck in one reptilian hand and reacted. Robin had Croc exactly where he wanted him, until his father interfered. Croc was one step away from falling into his trap but Batman came running, grabbing Croc in a choke hold until he fell unconscious at which point he dropped Damian who was panting and wheezing in the sewage. Batman stormed over to his son.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Damian stood and glared at his father.

"I had the monster right where I wanted him. If you hadn't have screwed it all up I would have had him!"

"Croc was ready to squeeze your head off, but you had him right where you wanted him? I told you not to leave my side! Robin you have been incapable of following orders lately! I have had enough, as of this instant you are suspended. Go back to the cave, take off that costume and go to your room!" Damian stared at his father open mouthed.

"Tt. I'm suspended? For how long?"

"Until you learn how to follow orders. Good soldiers know how to follow orders, Robin! I don't care if you feel underutilized. I'm the Batman and I call the shots, not you. Two weeks pending review." He clicked his communicator on. "Penny-one?"

"Yes sir?"

"I'm sending Robin home. If he's not there in twenty minutes I want to know about it. He's to change and go to his room to study his Sun Tzu. He is not to leave."

"Yes sir. Understood sir."

Damian was seething. All he wanted to do was impress his father and instead he ended up on suspension. He just couldn't believe it. Dick was staying at the manor that night so when the coast was clear he snuck down the hallway in his pajamas, holding his cat Alfred in his arms and quietly knocked on his door. Dick looked out into the hallway seeing a distressed looking Damian standing before him.

"Dami, what's wrong? Come in and talk to me."

He settled back onto his bed and Damian sat lightly on the side of the mattress, placing Alfred on the foot of the bed. Dick grabbed Damian from behind and dragged him up onto the bed slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling Damian into his side.

"Tt. Grayson, is this really necessary? What is this obsession of yours with physical contact?"

Dick smiled. Damian always protested but he'd relax and lean against him in a few minutes. Dick knew Damian secretly craved affection in any form and he tried to give him as much attention as he could. Damian had the worst upbringing any kid ever could. He didn't know how to really be a kid, truth be told. He was never allowed to play, he had no friends and the few moments he was actually allowed to see his mother she never once hugged the kid or told him he was loved. He was raised by tutors and sensei's. Instead of making mud pies at four, he was climbing mountains, instead of finger painting in kindergarten, he was fighting gangs of League of Assassins ninjas. Then at eight he gets dumped off with the big, bad Bat. Dick knew from experience how hard growing up under the tutelage of Bruce Wayne was. So he did his best to give Damian the love he so desperately needed no matter how difficult Damian made it to do so.

"So what's going on Little D?" Damian rolled his eyes.

"Would you please stop calling me that?" Dick smirked as he squeezed his adoptive brother.

"Nope. Now come on Dami, I know something is bothering you. What's going on." Damian grabbed his cat and pulled him onto his lap, gently stroking his fur as he began.

"Father has suspended me."

"Uh-oh, I've been there before. Doesn't feel so good does it Dami?" He scratched Alfred behind the ears.

"No, Grayson, it does not. I was just trying to impress him. I would have if he had showed up five seconds later than he did. When he walked in I looked helpless, in trouble, but I had Croc right where I wanted him! One more step and he would have sprung my trap and Croc would have been dangling by his feet from the ceiling." He paused for a moment. "He told me I was not a good soldier."

Damian's eyes were glistening with tears he was fighting back with everything he had. He was brought up to believe that crying showed weakness. Dick pulled him a little closer.

"Look Dami, I know you just want to impress him, but Bruce isn't impressed with skill alone. There's a very good reason he lost his mind over you not obeying orders, you know."

"Tt. And what, pray tell, is that Grayson?"

"Jason."

"Oh"

Jason Todd, the second Robin, disobeyed Bruce leaving the manor and flying overseas alone in search of his mother. He amazingly was able to find her, but what he didn't know was that she was working with the Joker. The Joker subsequently beat Jason to death with a crowbar, then blew up the building that he and his mother were in for good measure. Bruce had never gotten over the loss of his young partner and swore never to lose another again. He felt that even more so with his son, his true flesh and blood.

"Damian, I know your father is a hard man to know. He's lost so many people that he cares about he's put up these walls to keep people out. He doesn't do it on purpose, it's just a defense mechanism. Losing his parents really messed him up, Dami then Jason, Barbara and the list goes on. It makes him cold, believe me I know firsthand. That doesn't mean he doesn't love you or trust you. He just doesn't know how to express himself. His trying to keep you protected and safe says more about how he feels about you than anything else."

"Tt. How do you figure that Grayson?"

"Because it means it would absolutely kill him if anything happened to you. That's why he's being scary overprotective of you Dami. He loves you too much. Cut him a break. If you saw your parents shot down in front of you, it'd screw you up too, kiddo." Damian considered it.

"Dick?" Dick was shocked. Damian never called him by his first name.

"Yes Dami?"

"Would you tell me about them? My grandparents I mean. Father has never discussed them with me. I would like to know a little bit about what kind of people they were."

"Of course Dami. I didn't know them obviously, but Bruce and Alfie have told me plenty of stories."

Dick told Damian all about his grandparents that night. He talked of their careers, how they met, stories about them and Bruce when he was a young boy and even the story about how they were murdered. Listening to this last story, hearing Dick describe the sound his grandmother's pearls made as they fell into the sewers gave him an idea. He fell asleep cuddled with his older brother and his cat dreaming of his new plan to impress his father.

For the next week he searched the sewers beneath crime alley and the Bowery, not looking for Killer Croc, but looking for just one of his grandmother's pearls. If he could find even one, he knew he would earn his father's love and respect. After the Gotham Towers bombing and the disappearance of his father, he still did not stop searching. In fact, he was more determined than ever to find one.

They were currently in the Library and his father was standing staring at the large portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Damian carefully approached his father as he pulled a small box from his pocket. He stood beside the oblivious Bruce and gently tugged on this shirt tail until he looked down at the small boy.

"I have something for you father."

He handed him the box. Bruce stared at it in awe for several moments before slowly lifting the lid. Sitting in the center of a small midnight blue velvet pillow was not one but two of Martha Wayne's lost pearls from that fateful night in Crime Alley. Bruce stared at them. Dick and Damian held their breaths. Bruce's eyes swelled with tears.

"Mother?" Damian took a step closer.

"Yes father, I found grandmother's pearls. Only two, but I'm not done looking yet. I'll find them." Bruce looked up and met his son's gaze.

"Damian?" Damian's eyes also glazed as he saw the recognition in his father's eyes. "You found her pearls? How?"

"I searched the sewers. For weeks. I knew they were important to you father." Bruce reached out and embraced his son.

"Thank you Damian. You have no idea how much this means to me, it's the most beautiful gift you could ever give me. You did very well, son. I'm so proud of you."

Damian beamed under his father's praise as tears leaked from his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Dick approached them.

"Bruce. Do you know who I am? Are you back with us?" Bruce looked up at his other son.

"Yes Dick, I'm back. Fill me in on what I've missed."

In East Park Side Harley and Ivy were getting into her car with groceries and a fresh warm tray of extra special brownies. They pulled away heading for the warehouse in Tri-Corner Yards.

"So I only give him one?" Ivy looked over at her.

"To start off, yeah. If nothing happens in an hour you can give him another but you shouldn't need to."

"How will I know it's working?" Ivy chuckled.

"Trust me you'll know, but watch his eyes. If they get glassy, bloodshot and narrow. He's stoned." Harley eyed the foil covered pan warily.

"I'm still not too sure about this."

"Harley, it'll be fine. We have plenty of junk food in the trunk and that's all you're really going to need. He'll be gentle as a pussycat."

"If you say so."

As she searched the lair she found him hunched over his desk, his elbows on the edge, head propped between his hands which each clutched a handful of green hair. She stood in the doorway and cleared her throat.

"Mistah J?" He turned, a look of surprise on his face.

"Harley? I didn't think you'd be back for a while."

"Yeah, well, neither did I. Look Mistah J, I know you're feeling bad about the Bat, but you gotta get it together. We can't keep going on like this Puddin." He sighed.

"I know, I know. I'm trying, okay?"

"And the coke has got to stop."

He glared at her. How dare she tell him what he can and can't do? He still had coke in his system, it was making him aggressive.

"I'm out of it anyway, okay? Happy now?"

"Happier than I was Mistah J." He eyed the plate she was holding.

"What's that?" She looked down in mild shock. She had forgotten about it.

"I brought you a snack. Fresh out of the oven brownies. They're still warm." He wrinkled his nose.

"Did you make them?" She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"No, Mistah J, I didn't make them. Jerk." He chuckled at her scrunched up face.

"Sorry Poo, it's just you remember what happened the last time you tried to make brownies."

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are ya?" He took a bite of the brownie, chewed and swallowed.

"Nope. Hmm… unusual aftertaste. What is that? Pistachios?" Harley raised her eyebrows.

"Um, yeah, I think that's it Puddin. Pistachios." He swallowed a second large bite.

"Yup you definitely didn't make these. They're pretty good. Thanks kiddo."

"No problem Mistah J. I got some stuff I gotta do so, see you around Puddin."

As Harley did laundry downstairs, Joker finished his snack and sat at his desk continuing to stare at the still blank sheet of paper in front of him. After some time passed he started to feel really relaxed. He leaned his head in one hand as an idea began to slowly blossom in his mind. He picked up his crayon and began to write and doodle. After an hour of solid scheming he realized he was ravenous and it occurred to him that his girlfriend may have dosed him with something. He wasn't mad, he just wanted to know what it was. He found her in the kitchen making macaroni and cheese on the stovetop.

"That almost ready, Poo? I'm starving." She jumped and looked up.

"Yeah Puddin, just a few more minutes."

He walked into the room and opened the cabinets which were well stocked to his surprise. He grabbed a bag of chips and a Twinkie, opened the fridge to grab a soda and brought his bounty to the living room. He slumped down in front of the TV as he struggled to open the chip bag. Whatever she gave him it was strong, maybe a new anti-psychotic? He finally got the bag opened and shoveled a handful of chips into his mouth as he surfed through the stations. He stopped on Ridiculousness. Harley heard him from the other room cackling. She fixed him a plate and brought it in to him. He laughed again as a skateboarder cracked his nuts on a handrail.

"Harley, have you ever seen this? It's hysterical!" She handed him his plate. "Oooh that looks good. Thanks, you're awesome Harls."

Harley did a double take. Did he just call her awesome? Did he just thank her? Well that was unusual.

"You're welcome Pud. You okay, baby?"

"Hunky dory Pumpkin. I even came up with a plan to deal with the mob." He shoveled a forkful of mac and cheese into his mouth. "So, what did you give me Harley? Xanax, anti-psychotics?" She looked down, a guilty expression crossing her features.

"Don't be mad."

"I promise."

"Marijuana." His eyes bulged.

"What? Ha ha ha. You gave me dope? That's so demented, I love it! Oh Harley, hee hee. That's almost too much." She had winced expecting to be slapped. Her face relaxed as she stared at him confused.

"You're not mad?"

He has holding his stomach as he chortled. Once he could control himself he wiped a tear from under his eye and looked at her.

"No, I'm not mad. I'm surprised you didn't try it sooner. Your best friend is the biggest pot supplier in the city." She looked at him in shock.

"You knew?"

"Of course I did."

"I just found out like a month ago!" He chuckled at her.

"Oh Harley, you do know how to make me laugh. No, thanks actually. I wouldn't have been able to come up with a plan to save our asses from the mob without the 'inspiration'. Will you come with me to the sit down Pumpkin?" She grinned at him.

"Of course I will Puddin."

"So, got any more of those 'brownies' Harls?" She nodded.

"Yeah a whole tray Puddin."

"Well, I think it's time for another and I'd like you to join me." She looked up with round eyes.

"I don't know Pud, I had a bad experience once."

"With pot?"

"No. Molly."

"Not the same thing. Please Pumpkin? I promise you'll like it."

"No peer pressure Mistah J."

"Please, please, please. It'll make daddy very happy." She rolled her eyes.

"Fine, Mistah J. But just this one time okay?" He sprouted a grin that almost split his face.

"Deal."

Harley exited the room, hands shaking, preparing to have a new adventure with her Mistah J. It was shaping up to be an interesting night.

A/N - So, since this has been a dark journey so far, I wanted to give you a nice lighthearted chapter for sticking with me through it. It's been rough having a depressed and violent Joker inside of my head for the past few weeks. I think that's why I needed the vacation. Wrapping this one up in the next chapter and moving on to Legacy part II. Thanks for reading! You guys rock!