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55. A Word of Caution

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Disclaimer: My immense love to all of you! Your words of praise are really more than I deserve. Thank you all so much. You'll never know how much it means to me!! Oh yeah…and I do not own DC comics or any of the characters and plotlines/places etc. they produced for Batman…You'll know of who I mean later on in the chapter!

The evening dragged by slowly. I finished the rest of my evening med pass, completed several notes I had neglected from the prior evening, and found myself sitting idly back at my desk—alone in my office. I couldn't believe the Joker was talking to me about drugs. I was adamantly against doing drugs with him again. There was no way I'd get back into cocaine—even if it was something he wanted me to do. I was sure I was crazy, but I was also sure that I wasn't crazy enough to get back into drugs. At this point, I was alright with killing a pregnant woman, but I was never going to be okay with doing drugs again. Nothing I could think of would ever make me revert back to that lifestyle.

I huffed in my chair at the thought of cocaine. I didn't want to become a mess he won't want to clean up. That would be a tragedy. The Joker—left with two women—one pregnant and one on drugs. I was pretty sure if that happened, he'd probably kill either Pixie and me or just himself. I smiled at the thought of him killing Pixie. It was just a matter of time before my fantasy would become reality. I knew it would happen by either my hand or his, and when it did happen, I would be the happiest woman alive.

I glanced up at the clock. It was nearly 11:00. I packed my things and logged off my computer. I locked and shut my office door and sought out the 11—7 NP taking over. We exchanged notes and information in approximately fifteen minutes and before I knew it, I was out the door. A strange surge of freedom overtook my senses as I walked down the street towards the subway station. At the corner stood a man, seemingly ready to talk to me. The Joker, I assumed. My heart jumped at his promptness. The man sauntered over towards me, remaining out of the light. Curious, I approached him, smiling as I walked. Yet, as I got closer, my smile faded. The man was very clearly not the Joker. My heart raced inside my chest as he continued pursuing me. This man was very, very, clearly not the Joker! How could I have mistaken the man who now approached me for my beloved, purple suit wearing Joker?! The man who approached me wasn't wearing anything remotely close to the color purple. He was clad in black and wore a top hat. Odd. He was also closer to my height than the Joker's. He probably soared no higher than 5'6". I froze in my tracks, afraid to move even a tiny step closer to the man.

"Ms. Giada DiMarco?" the man's voice asked in his strange accent, as he stood before me finally. I nodded my head, unsure if I should confirm myself to him.

"Allow me to introduce myself to you—I'm…an acquaintance of Bruce Wayne. My name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot," he paused, waiting to see if his name rang a bell in my head. I remained silent, unsure of who this strange, short, obese man was. I was still beating myself up in my head for mistaking him for the Joker. The Joker belonged in a playgirl magazine compared to this guy.

"Um, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cobblepot," I spoke finally, holding out my hand for him to shake it. If he said he knew Bruce, I felt like I should at least pretend to believe him. I didn't think Bruce would send such a strange man to greet me, but I decided to play along—humor him, of the sorts.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss," he said, as his lips curled up behind his long pointy nose in an awkward smile. I hesitantly smiled back. I glanced at his hat and decided to break the ice.

"Nice hat—but you missed Halloween by a month or so," I chuckled, trying to make it seem friendly.

"Yes…the hat. Sorry, I know it's quite outdated, but I do prefer to keep a relatively…professional air about me. I run a nightclub, you know—the Iceberg Lounge," he stated hotly. I raised an eyebrow. This guy wore the hat for real? Why hadn't Bruce mentioned this clown to me before?! This was a little odd. I glanced down at my watch anxiously. It was well past 11. The Joker was waiting for me. I couldn't leave him waiting for me for too long—he would undoubtedly try to find me, and who could guess what that would do for his discharge this evening.

"Oh, the Iceberg—I've heard of it—never been though. I'm more familiar with the Joker's Wild," I stated.

"Oh, well that's too bad. But, Bruce asked me to ask you if you would meet him at the Iceberg…" Mr. Cobblepot began.

"I really can't—I'm actually late meeting someone this evening. See, I work at Arkham and I just got off work. I was supposed to be somewhere at 11. Please, give my regards to Bruce if you see him this evening," I said as I turned to leave. Mr. Cobblepot then took a slight hold of my wrist. I spun around, shocked at his forwardness.

"Pardon me, Miss, but Bruce did state it was urgent. He was afraid you'd be meeting with…someone…after work this evening. No doubt, I can imagine…who…this person is, but my guess is as good as his, I suppose!" he chuckled. I simply stared at him in disbelief. I couldn't believe this was happening. Was Bruce for real? Was this guy for real? I was so confused. Maybe I should call Bruce…

I took my phone from my pocket and dialed Bruce's cell number.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Bruce, it's Giada. Are you expecting me?" I asked him slowly, eyeing Mr. Cobblepot.

"Yes—did…Mr. Cobblepot…find you?" he asked hestitantly.

"You should have warned me! I had no idea you needed to see me so urgently. Why couldn't you just call me? Are you still at the…the Iceberg Lounge?" I asked, my hands beginning to tremble.

"Yes—I'm here. I just need to make sure you go straight home this evening—you know what I mean," he spoke firmly. Did he know I was going to see the Joker?! How could he have known?! The discharge must have been made public—or at least aware with the GPD and Bruce/Batman.

"Bruce, I have plans this evening. Just a quick meeting and I'll be heading right home. I don't have any time to meet with you…" my voice trailed off and my arm slid down to my side; I could hear Bruce yelling to me from the cell phone, but I couldn't bring myself to put the phone up to my ear. I was pretty sure my mouth was gaping so widely, I could have been at the dentist. The Joker was standing off in the distance motioning for me to hurry up my conversation with Mr. Cobblepot. He had Pixie under his arm—and she was very much pregnant.

I hadn't anticipated this by any means. I knew she was pregnant—but I hadn't seen it yet. There she was—her perfect body now perfectly pregnant. I slowly raised my hand to my face.

"Bruce, I have to go. Love you," I slid my phone shut and slipped it into my pocket. "Thank you for the message, Mr. Cobblepot. Surely we'll meet again—hopefully at you…uh…lovely club," I pardoned myself slowly and walked away from the man tipping his hat to me, towards the Joker and pregger Pixie.

"What are you doing?!" I hissed at them once we were safely hidden by a nearby dark alley.

"The better question is what are you doing?! Do you even know who that is?!" Pixie hissed back at me. I shot her a glare of death.

"Excuse me, I wasn't talking to you—I didn't have plans to meet with you at 11!" I snapped back at her quietly as I shot the Joker a look of death.

"I can explain…" the Joker said finally, holding up his hands and taking the peeling knife from his other hand and placing it into his pocket. I didn't even notice he had the knife up to her face. I smiled briefly and then glared back at Pixie.

"Oh you better! I didn't sign up for this," I spat back at him and gesturing to Pixie with my eyes.

"First of all—I was unaware you were friends with the…the Penguin…over there," he gestured to the corner where I had been conversing with Mr. Cobblepot.

"The Penguin? Oh be nice, please! Just because that man looks like a bird doesn't mean you can go calling him a penguin—which is a very cute bird, by the way—and he was very…not…" I hesitated in my assessment as I noticed Pixie and the Joker just staring at me.

"You finished?" Pixie snapped.

"Oh shut the hell up!" I snapped right back at her.

"Right—so…secondly, I wasn't planning on…this…either," he gestured to her with his peeler, releasing her from his strong grasp.

"Thanks—so I don't even have a name—I'm just some androgynous…thing," Pixie huffed.

"That's right," I smiled over at her and then glanced back at the Joker.

"I was walking to your…apartment and I stumbled…upon…" he gestured to Pixie, not even bothering to say her name, "and…she was wandering, and she spotted me and said she was in pain. Well, I told her if she came any closer, I'd show her what real pain is…but then she pointed to her stomach," The Joker explained.

"Oh, so you're the concerned daddy, huh," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Not exactly," he said as he licked his lips, "see, I was hoping you could…help—"

"Help who?! Her?!" I laughed at the concept. The Joker came to me, asking if I could help Pixie through her pregnancy. "You've got to be joking, right? It's a bad joke!"

"Giada, hear me out here," the Joker continued, taking a step toward me.

"Oh no—I think I've heard plenty! This is outrageous—completely out of my realm of…I just don't care if the bitch is in pain! And besides, OB/GYN isn't exactly my specialty," I paused at the situation. The Joker was asking me to help out the pregnant Pixie, most likely through the remainder of her pregnancy—for the next six months, doing OB/GYN check ups—something I was not entirely very good at, since my specialty was psych. I glanced up at him and he caught my eyes with his. He stared hard at me, trying to penetrate my mind with his thoughts.

"I know it's not your…specialty—but you are a nurse practitioner," the Joker stated slowly. I got it. I understood his motive. He didn't want to help Pixie. He wanted me to torture her with exams. A smile curled up on my lips. I turned towards Pixie and smiled at her.

"Oh, Pixie—you're going to be just fine," I spoke to her finally.

"Oh thank God," she huffed as she doubled over in pain. She didn't have a clue that I wasn't very good at GYN exams.

"Let's go back to your place so we can have a look at what's going on," I stated as I placed my arm around her and helped her walk. I glared over at the Joker who simply flashed me a conniving grin.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Jesus, Jade! This thing inside keeps kicking me!" Pixie exclaimed as she remained on her back on her bed.

"You're an idiot. You're almost four months pregnant—nothing should be kicking you yet. And when it does, I'm going to hope it kicks you a lot harder than this," I responded flatly as I actually did a proper exam on her.

"Well, I don't know why it's kicking me," she responded. I felt her small but pregnant stomach. She was just beginning to show. There was no way the baby inside of her was kicking her. I looked up at her face and noticed something strange with her eyes. I removed my rubber gloves and moved up closer to her head.

"Joker—what's she doing?!" Pixie screamed suddenly.

"Hold still, I want to see something," I held her head firmly in my hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried turning her head away from me. I removed one of my hands and pried her eye open. Her pupils were drastically dilated. She was high on drugs. What a bitch! Doing drugs while pregnant—it couldn't get much worse than is—except maybe if she was drinking too. No doubt her kid would pop out with fetal alcohol syndrome. I forcefully removed my hands from her head and walked away from the bed.

"Where are you going, Jade?" she coaxed, "Am I too much for you to handle?"

I paused and took in a deep breath. I glared at the Joker and then slowly turned so that I could face her again.

"Pixie, I can handle you just fine. What I will not tolerate is a pregnant woman who is high on God knows what drug! Do you want your kid to be born with abnormalities? Because I'll tell you what right now, if you continue with this drug use for the duration of the pregnancy, you're going to not only harm the baby, but yo…urself," I made myself say it. As much as I hated her, I didn't her to harm herself. I wanted to be the one harming her.

"What could happen to me?" she asked. The selfish bitch! Not 'what could happen to the baby?' or 'could it die?', but 'what about me?'. The idea of it made me almost gag.

"Give me your arm," I instructed firmly.

"No," she refused, pulling her arms into her chest.

"Bitch, give me your arm!" I shouted as I lunged at her and grabbed her arm. I was stronger than her, for some reason I hadn't anticipated this, and I was able to unfold her left arm. Just as I had suspected, needle marks decorated her inner arm.

"Heroine," I spat at her and then turned away as I began my explanation, "will cause the most deficits among newborns and fetuses in the womb. The child will probably be born prematurely. The use of illicit drugs during pregnancy also assist in the unborn child getting an infection, like…as sexually transmitted infection or AIDS," I stated.

Pixie paused, awed and in silence, at this information. She glanced up at the Joker, who remained silent in the room while I conducted my "treatment".

"But…what about me?" she urged again.

"Well," I began through clenched teeth, "since you seem to be an avid heroine and cocaine user, you must typically have elevated blood pressure—which puts you at a risk for developing pre-eclampsia,"

Her eyes widened as she sat up on the bed, "Oh no! What's that?!" she shrieked.

I rolled my eyes, "Basically, pregnancy induced hypertension. It usually shows up later in pregnancy and can be determined if we monitor the amount of protein in your urine," I explained.

"Oh, you'll have to do that for me then. I can't risk getting that," she stated as she laid herself back down.

I licked my lips and then pursed them together. I took in a deep breath and glanced over at the Joker, "I don't have to do anything for you, actually. And the fact you're more concerned about yourself during this pregnancy and not the healthy development of the innocent life inside of you is absolutely disgusting. In fact, I have the right mind not to help you at all, but I'm not that kind of person. I'm not an asshole—I'll help you through this pregnancy, but I won't be telling you what to do and what not to do. This is your thing, okay? If you wanna shoot up heroine, or if you wanna smoke crack or snort some cocaine, that's your decision. But I'm telling you right now, as long as I know you're doing drugs, I won't be testing your urine for excessive protein and if you do develop pre-eclampsia, I won't help you,"

The room was silent. She just nodded her head. I think she was unsure of how to respond. Either that, or she was coming down from her high. I hoped for the first, but assumed it was the latter. She didn't seem like the type to give two shits about her illicit drug use and being pregnant. She only cared for her own well-being. In that case, she knew my terms. I would hold firmly to them, and I think this pleased the Joker. I think he knew she wouldn't quit the drugs, which would in turn, torture her in the sense that I wouldn't help her in the way she wanted. It was the perfect way for me to torture her without actually hurting her. I wasn't all that satisfied with the idea of hurting her while she was already in the pains of pregnancy—but I was still willing to kill her if it came to that. I came pretty close this evening with her bout of selfishness on display. No child deserved a mother like that.