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54. Our Crazy World

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Disclaimer: Thank you all so much for reviewing and reading!!!!! I am in love with all of you!!

The next morning I awoke to Christmas Day—to what I figured would be a horribly mundane Christmas Day. I didn't have to go in to work until the afternoon, which both pleased and irritated me. I wanted to both be away from and with the Joker. From the moment my eyes opened, I couldn't get him from my mind and the questions that went along with his name. I sat up in bed and thought through the situations of the previous night. I hadn't forgotten the Joker had walked in on Batman kissing me—I had just tried forcing it from my mind. I wished I had seen his expression—if it was full of anxiety or just gleeful surprise. I could never quite tell with the Joker.

And Bruce. He knew I helped get the Joker out of Arkham last night—he knew something had happened to me…and my arm. I knew he wasn't pleased. I just hoped he wouldn't be too furious with me. I couldn't believe I was capable of hurting Bruce like that. Then again, with the things I'd done in my life since first arriving to Gotham, I was capable of pretty much anything. That fact disturbed through and through. I didn't particularly want to be dangerous and destructive—especially not of human emotions. I wanted to embrace and feel others' emotions and motives. I was certainly wrapped up completely in the Joker's motives and emotions. I knew for sure he could feel emotion—one cannot passionately feel love without passionately feeling hate. I knew he had to, at the very least, the capability of feeling love if he could feel hate so fervently. With that philosophy in mind, then the opposite of love would be apathy. And I knew he wasn't apathetic towards me—or anything really. I guessed this was good news.

But Bruce. Could Bruce turn apathetic towards me? No, I couldn't see Bruce losing the fire—the passion—within him. I certainly hoped he would never become apathetic towards me. Just as I could never bear losing the Joker, I could never bear losing Bruce. He was my fire for justice in the hearts of those who had none.

But the Joker—he was my fire for something so much more—something much greater. He stood for something I couldn't even put my finger on. He was the symbol of human nature at its depth—human nature at its very core. Raw. Bold. Fluid. He understood the process of human thinking and human actions. He was the allegory of human suffering and understanding. He was the benefactor of intelligence in mankind—by instilling fear in those who misunderstood him, he was proving that intelligence was absent in the minds of those who feared him. People who have fear do not understand—and are in a sense, ignorant. He was simply proving that chaos ensues because of fear of the unknown—the revolt that each and every human must take in order to achieve true intelligence—the quest we must all take in order to understand life. I remembered learning this lesson in philosophy through the readings and teachings by Krishnamurti. He had it right. The Joker had it right.

I smiled to myself. The Joker was following philosophical wisdom. I wondered if he knew he was living out Krishnamurti's teachings. Probably not. Then again, the Joker wasn't one who let on to his though processes. I was just lucky enough to understand him and his mental process.

Rolling over, my feet hit the floor and I left my room for the bathroom. On my way into the hall, I noticed a present sitting on the kitchen table. Curious, I neglected the bathroom and walked the remaining few steps out of the hallway. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of my dear friend Bruce sitting on my sofa. He smiled up at me and then rose to his feet.

"Bruce, what is this? What are you doing here?" I asked, elated that he was smiling at me.

"Merry Christmas, Giada," he simply said, still smiling. He walked over to me and kissed my cheek.

"Oh Bruce, thank you—you didn't have to do this, really," I gestured to the gift, "Having you here means more to me. I…I thought you were furious with me after last night,"

Bruce shook his head and took a step back from me, "I didn't do that one," he pointed to the gift sitting on top of the table. I raised an eyebrow in wonderment. "Go on, open it. It's from…the Joker,"

My heart skipped a beat. The Joker? The Joker sent me a Christmas present? I was pretty sure my Christmas present from his was spoiled by that bitch called Pixie.

"But I thought you took him back to Arkham last night. How did he…?" I asked Bruce as I meandered over to the present.

"I did. He's…safe, in Arkham. He gave it to me to give to you. No doubt, anxious for you to go to work this afternoon," Bruce responded, nonchalantly. Well, this was an aberration. I had no idea the Joker was going to give me a present—nonetheless one delivered to me by Batman.

"Do you know what it is?" I asked, pausing before opening the un-wapped box. Bruce merely shook his head. If I were him, I would have opened the box. There was nothing sealing it shut. I shrugged my shoulders and lifted the lid.

Inside the box was an object hidden inside massive quantities of toilet paper. No doubt this was all he had access to the night he "wrapped" whatever was inside the box. I removed the toilet paper-wrapped object and held it in my hand. It was heavy…and shaped like something familiar. I tore off the toilet paper and in my hand was a 9mm. Attached, was a note.

Work on your aim. If you fired the gun just a foot higher, you would have hit her through the door. I don't trust you with knives anymore. – J.

A twisted smile curled up at the corners of my mouth. I let out a small chuckle at the note and ran my hand over the smooth 9mm. It was a shiny silver, but didn't look brand new. It was definitely a hand-me-down, but I didn't care. I lightly ran my fingers over the short barrel of the gun. The feel of each groove sent chills down my spine. It was heady tonic holding something so powerful—the ability to take someone's life in the palm of your hand. It was a mixed feeling I had, holding that gun. I didn't want to kill people—only one person in particular, in my mind, deserved a bullet through their head. Pixie Dust. I would use this weapon to complete that mission of mine, but other than that, I would not use that gun for any other purpose. Well, I guess to train with, like the Joker had written. I suppose I would fear myself with a knife too after what had happened last night.

Bruce cleared his throat, staring hard at me and my Christmas present. Startled, I glanced over at him and grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, I know what it looks like—he gave me a 9mm, but…I swear to you, I'm not going to use it, except maybe on one person…" I broke the silence nervously. I swallowed the spit building up in my mouth.

Bruce shook his head and walked over to me, "I don't care to understand men like him—men who value destruction and death, Giada," Bruce replied with a heavy breath.

"No, you don't understand—he gave it to me as a joke—a bad joke, I guess. Here, read the note," I handed the paper to Bruce and watched his eyes move as he read the pencil scratching. He pursed his lips and handed the note back to me when he finished.

"So that's what you were doing last night—trying to kill Pixie Dust—and you slipped with the knife," Bruce stated flatly, crossing his arms across his chest. I shook my head slowly, negating his theory. I carefully placed the gun down onto the table, along with the note.

"It was so much worse than that," I confessed finally.

"Worse that you weren't able to kill her?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No—worse because I was supposed to kill her and I couldn't. Not because I slipped with the knife—which I'll explain in a second—but because…well…the bitch claimed she was pregnant. The Joker wouldn't let me shoot a hypothetically pregnant woman—even if it is Pixie," I muttered, still angry that she was claiming she was pregnant. A small grin formed unsuspectingly on Bruce's lips.

"So, Pixie Dust is claiming she's pregnant…with the Joker's child?" Bruce asked, no longer trying to hide his grin of dismay.

"Yes—and it's really not all that funny actually," I spat back at him, irritated at his response. I glanced down at the gun and pictured myself pulling the trigger as Pixie stood before me.

"I just find it…ironic…that the Joker won't allow you to kill her. And I find it…amusing…that you want to kill her so badly—even if she is actually pregnant," Bruce chuckled, "Giada, you never cease to amaze me. After all this time, I thought I had you figured out, but I guess there is still that part of you I'll never really understand,"

"Bruce—I could never kill a pregnant woman, trust me. I just want her dead—and I know she has to be lying about it! She knew we went there to kill her last night and she burst out with this pregnancy bullshit, so of course, the Joker was all like 'oh don't shoot her, that's wrong' and I was like 'what the fuck?!' so then they went into another room to talk about it I guess—I don't know about the outcome of that conversation, but while they were alone talking, I took it upon myself to cut up her sofa. In my act of stabbing said sofa, my knife got stuck in the frame and I tried pulling it out and the knife slipped and cut my wrist—as you can see," I showed him the wrist he helped stitch up last night. I paused, remembering the whole situation last night. There was no way Pixie was pregnant with the Joker's baby. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. And Bruce was laughing at it all! How could he laugh at this?! This was a serious matter—one that could potentially end in death.

"Giada, I understand your pain, I really do. But I think sometimes you let your temper get the best of you. Just promise me one thing—if Pixie is actually pregnant, you won't kill her. For once, I think I'm going to agree with the Joker on this one," Bruce instructed, more solemnly this time. I nodded my head. I knew he was right. They both were. But I just couldn't get past that it was Pixie who was preggers. It killed me to think she could be carrying a child that was half the Joker's and half her. Someone could possibly exist in 9 or so months that was genetically both of them. It made my stomach churn.

"I think I need to use the bathroom," I murmured, turned and ran for the bathroom. I lunged at the toilet just in time. My stomach heaved violently and expelled anything that remained in it. Bruce heard my heaving and came into the bathroom. He knelt down beside me and lifted my hair back from my face.

"Giada, it's going to be okay, I promise. Even if it is the Joker's baby, just think about once it's born—you can finally get your…revenge on Pixie," Bruce soothed me, unwilling to admit aloud to the both of us that I was going to kill her in 9 months' time. I shook my head.

"I can't kill a mother, Bruce. If she gives birth to this baby—and it's the Joker baby—I can't kill her. I'll want to—but I can't kill a mother. I bet she'll make a horrible mother, but I can't do it. I can't let an innocent life live without its mother. Sure it will have its father—but that's not saying too much, considering who the father supposedly is," I explained.

Bruce nodded in agreement. I think he felt relieved at my answer. Damn morals. Damn conscience. If I had none of those, I'd have no problem killing her off after the baby's birth. Too bad I wasn't completely chaotic as the Joker. I still had fear. I still had ignorance. I pursed my lips and glanced up at Bruce.

"I wish I could do something about it," I sad finally. Bruce nodded and he helped me to my feet. I ran the water in the sink and flushed my face with the cold water.

"Giada, what time are you supposed to be at Arkham today?" Bruce inquired, glancing at his watch.

"Three," I replied, as I squeezed toothpaste onto my toothbrush.

"Well, it's just before 2:00 now," Bruce stated.

"Shit," I choked on the toothbrush.

"I'll get out of your way then. Please call me when things become a little clearer to you. I'll be at the penthouse this evening—depending on how Gotham looks tonight. If you can't reach me, I'll have my cell,"

"Okay, thanks again, Bruce," I hugged him, "I'll call you with updates!" I shouted after him as he left the bathroom and then my apartment. I had only thirty minutes to get ready for work—it took me thirty minutes to get to Arkham by subway! I had to move fast…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I ran to the back door at Arkham and swiped my ID badge. The door unlocked, letting me inside, once again. I ran to the clock and punched in. I made it just in time. 3:01 appeared on the clock just as I retrieved my badge. I smiled at my perfect timing, although I usually liked getting to work at least fifteen minutes earlier than needed.

I made my way up to the fourth floor and into my office. I dropped my bags and took my patient charts and made my way up to the 6th floor. I had rounds to do. I met with Amy, the attending NP. She gave her report to me in less than twenty minutes, as I scribbled down her notes on each patient.

"And patient 4479 was oddly compliant this morning. He took both his meds without complaint at 8:00 with breakfast," she reported. Hm. Odd. I hated that he took the meds. He didn't need them. I hoped they wouldn't alter our therapy session. I had been withholding his meds the entire duration of his stay. I wondered why he would bother taking them now.

"Is that it?" I asked, as I finished writing my notes.

"Yes it is. I think there was a note somewhere I read that patient 4479 is being evaluated for potential discharge on the 28th, but I'm not too sure on that one. I mean, come on, why would they release a sociopath like that, right? Unless he's being discharged to the GDP MCU," Amy stated.

"Hm, that is interesting. I'll look into it. He is my patient after all. I feel like if that were going to happen I'd have to give the OK, you know?" I responded, coolly.

"Yes. Well keep me updated. I'd love to hear what's going to happen to him,"

"Will do," I smiled and headed off towards the Joker's room. I was going to find out for sure what's going on with him. I was going to take him myself to the therapy room.

I knocked slightly on his door before swiping my ID and then opened the heavy door. The Joker was sitting at the desk with the lamp on. His lips turned up into a grin at the sight of me.

"Happy Christmas," he greeted me and licked his lips.

"You're coming with me down the hall to the session room," I stated quickly.

"And why's that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"We have a number of things to discuss this afternoon—one of them being your possible discharge from Arkham," I retorted, raising my eyebrows at him. He stood to his feet and joined me on the other side of the room. He held out his wrists for me. I took hold of one of them and led him out the door and down the hall. I directed him into the therapy room and closed the door behind us. He pulled out the chair for me and waited for me to take seat before he sat down.

"Quite the gentleman today, aren't we?" I asked with a small smile as I placed his chart on the table.

He licked his lips and leaned in towards me, "well, I'm going to have to get on your good side for this conversation, aren't I," he responded. My heart stopped.

"I…uh…didn't think you were on my bad side," I replied, opening his chart.

"Did Batsy deliver my…gift…to you?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes he did. It made me laugh, actually," I replied with a chuckle, remembering the note and the pistol.

"Oh good! I'm so thrilled! I just…couldn't resist…you know. There's so much I can teach you about how to shoot a gun…in the time we have," he said, licking his lips.

"And that time would be…?" I asked, knowing exactly what was coming. The time we had until Pixie would deliver her child.

"Six months," he replied.

"Six months?!" I shrieked. Less time than I had thought! She didn't look all that pregnant when I saw her last night.

"Well, here's the thing…" the Joker began speaking.

"Why…that would mean that she conceived only three months ago—before you were here in Arkham. Ugh! That would mean you last had sex with her while I was back here in Gotham! This is awful, you know that, right? This is possibly the worst thing you could have done to me. I almost with you did lose your memory of me- I think I could handle this a lot better if I thought you didn't know what you were doing—but you did! You knew very well what you were doing! And now she's going to have your kid! This is just great—just fucking fantastic!" I exploded.

The Joker just sat there in silence, waiting for me to stop my rant. He licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. I settled down at sat back in my chair.

"Like I was saying…before I was rudely interrupted…the thing is…she's saying she's…pregnant—but there's no definitive saying that it's…mine," he explained.

"But she is pregnant," I confirmed, flatly.

"Yes. But like I said—there's not much pointing to the fact it's mine. As you so…erratically…pointed out—it would have happened three months ago…and as far as I can remember, three months ago, I was focusing on how I was going to get to you," the Joker explained.

"But you were doing drugs with her. It's quite possible you could have slept with her some night you were strung out on heroine," I spat back at him.

"That is also the truth, ..ly," he replied, licking his lips, "The ending fact remains—Pixie is…pregnant…and we won't be able to find out until the…child…is born,"

"There are paternity tests they can do while it's in utero," I responded flatly.

"No—I'm not talking about tests. I'm not getting a paternity test. I'm talking about the eyes. I'll know if it's mine if it has my eyes," he stated matter of factly. I just sat there, dazed and in awe at his remark. I couldn't help but laugh at his logic.

"So, you mean to tell me that you won't get a paternity test because you seem to think if the kid has your eyes—it's yours?" I laughed, trying to hold it in, but failing horribly. He just glared back at me.

"I can't get a paternity test, Giadaaaa. As you know, my alias…as it were…is…gone," he stated finally.

"Well, I can take your blood and get it tested. That's not an issue at all. I'll bring it to the lab my self," I offered, not realizing what I was really getting myself into.

"Giada, could you honestly live with this for six months if you knew it was mine?" he asked finally. I stopped for a moment and considered his logic. Could I get through the next six months knowing Pixie's kid was his? Could I manage being around him…and possibly her…knowing that they were one big ole family?

"No," I said finally.

"Then we wait until it's born. I can't risk having you shoot a pregnant woman—even I can't do that, though I'd really like to," he said.

"I think you should. It would be more in character for you to just knock her off---oh wait, you already did that," I shot at him.

"Ouch," he replied, grimacing. "It's not that I'm…afraid to…kill her. It just wouldn't sit well…with me…if I did, now,"

"Well, I have no problem doing so. I wait until she's about to deliver—I shoot her and perform an emergency c-section. No big deal," I responded flatly. He shook his head.

"Tempting, but no,"

"You do realize that she's going to fuck you over again, right? If she did it once, she'll do it again. She'll probably end up fucking me over in the process. I won't let that happen—I'll kill her. I have no problem getting her out of the game," I explained.

"Like I said—we have six months to work with that gun. I trust you'll…do the…right…thing, when the time comes," he responded, widening his eyes in suggestion. I understood. He did want me to kill her. I just don't think he wanted me to tell him when it was going to happen. I could understand that—I could understand that for anyone else…except the Joker. Was he going soft or what?! I didn't like this new "save the pregnant Pixie" attitude. I just couldn't see why he was all "don't kill her!". Was he still in love with her? He had to be. He had to be in love with her because I told me he had been in love before—I knew it was with her. They were engaged for Christ's sake! All I could do was make him dizzy. Ugh, I really was beginning to hate this. I wanted the Joker back—the Joker I had met before—the Joker who would kill anyone. Maybe he would kill you, maybe he wouldn't. You could never really tell with him, and I liked that.

"I know…I know…what you're thinking, and you're right," he said finally. I glared at him hard. What exactly was I right about.

"I…need to get out of here—there's too much time for me to think…here. I need…my knife. Do you have it? I…I want my knife," he spoke again. I tilted my head curiously as I observed him. He was tapping his hands and then he was glancing all around the room, avoiding eye contact with me. I had just noticed the entire time he wasn't entirely looking directly at me. The meds. I knew it.

"You took the meds today, didn't you," I spoke softly.

"I…I had to. She was waiting for me to…swallow," he stuttered. This wasn't like him at all. I hated it. At least they were wearing off. He was due for another round at 5:00. I would tell they were wearing off.

"I'm not going to give you anymore meds. I'm going to get you out of here," I stated finally. He glanced over at me through his half painted eyes.

"They are planning on discharging you. I'm going to discharge you myself today. There's nothing psychologically wrong with you," I explained, "There never was anything wrong with you. You obviously know that,"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"During my med pass, I'm going to let you out," I said softly. He leaned towards me and took my hands in his.

"Gggiadaaa, come…with me," he spoke just as quietly. I nodded my head.

"I will," I pursed my lips, "When I get off at 11—leave me a note where to find you,"

He grinned, "If…I had known…these drugs would…do this…I would have made…you…give them…to me," he giggled and stuttered. I shook my head at him.

"No good for you. I'd rather see you on cocaine. At least you'd try to seduce me," I muttered.

"You want…a….seduction? Better catch me on…heroine," he snickered.

"No! No more drugs! We're done, remember? It was that one time—and that's it," I scolded him.

"Right—but if you…change your mind…you know you can always ask…me," he responded, licking his lips.

"I don't see why I'd ever want to go back to that again," I stated flatly.

"It's a crazy world…we live in. I just do my…best to…get by," he licked his lips again and raised his eyebrows. I just stared at him in disbelief. He didn't really mean that. He didn't really want me to start doing drugs again. Oh God. Maybe he did. Maybe he wanted to do drugs now that Pixie was pregnant. No. I wouldn't let him.

"I'll see you at 11," I said anxiously as I stood to my feet.