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66. Welcome, Braidon

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Pixie, clearly flustered and red in the face turned towards the Joker in complete and utter agitation.

"I can't believe that slut. She comes here, uninvited to this ball—is she a criminal? Is she a therapist? Who the fuck knows?! And she has the audacity to tell me I'm a filthy whore?! I sure as hell hope you cut the shit out of her face so I don't have to see her and that pretty little smirk of hers ever again," Pixie fumed as her piercing blue eyes burned into the Joker's dark brown gaze. He simply slid his tongue over his scarred lips, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a mini quiche off the serving tray of one of the waiters walking past Pixie and him.

"Tell me you are going to do something," Pixie insisted, staring heavily at him while popped the quiche into his mouth and began chewing wildly. His eyebrows slightly elevated while he munched, swallowed and then took in a deep breath.

"You leave me in…quite…the situation here, Pixie," the Joker stated finally, averting his eyes from her and scanning the crowd, mostly likely in search of Bruce and me.

"And what kind of situation is that?" she asked haughtily, crossing her arms above her bulging stomach. She bit her bottom lip profusely, while she awaited his response. The Joker sighed agitatedly as he rolled his eyes and tongued the scars from within his mouth. Ever so slightly, he inched closer towards her until he could smell her heavily perfumed stench, in a sad attempt at covering up the bitter alkaline stench of the drugs.

Licking his lips outwardly, he finally responded in a low, dark tone, "I've associated myself with you mistakenly in the…pasttt. And, seeing as how you allegedly know me," like a magician, his switch blade nearly just appeared in his right hand as he clandestinely slid it next to her jugular vein, but made himself appear as though he were brushing her hair from her face, "you should know by now that I do not take lightly to…demandsss—least of all from you. I have always and will continue to…always…command myself. In-def-in-ite-ly,"

Pixie swallowed hard, trying to remain as still as possible, lest the blade cut through her jugular. She could feel the heat of her anger building up inside and beginning to turn to sweat, not only for the Joker, but for me as well. She pursed her lips, glanced down at the Joker's steady hand at her throat and then shifted her intense gaze back up at him.

"Do what you will—but if I see her again, I'll cut her face if you won't," Pixie sneered.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the function hall, Bruce and I sat idly at a vacant table, casually sipping on some champagne.

"I just can't believe him, Bruce. He just stood there not saying a word while I endless poured out my heart to Pixie! I can't believe I did that. I really should probably just go home," I sighed as I ran my finger tips lightly along the stem of the champagne glass. Bruce's lips curled into a small smile as his hand reached out for mine.

"Giada, if the Joker didn't know by now that that was how you felt about him, then he clearly has no business associating with you anyways!" Bruce let out a slight laugh, trying to lift my spirits. I smiled back and returned a similar chortle. I knew he was right. By now, there was no possible way the Joker couldn't have known about my feelings for him.

"I guess I'm just pissed at myself for shouting it at Pixie. I wish I could have just told him how I felt, rather than letting Pixie hear it. I hate her enough as it is—but having her throw all her past bullshit on me like that only added to my fuming bonfire of angst towards her," I explained, finally lifting my glass and then taking a sip from the bubbling gold liquid. Bruce let out a small sigh and shifted his gaze to the dance floor and the band playing oldies.

"How about a dance?" Bruce asked finally, again trying to raise my mood. I glanced up at him and smiled.

"I don't know if I feel up to it, Bruce, honestly…"

"Please—just one dance. After one dance, if you're not feeling any happier, I'll be more than glad to take you home," Bruce explained. He stood to his feet and held out his hand for me to take. I hesitated for a moment, but then slowly took his hand as I rose from my seat.

Bruce twirled me out to the dance floor where so many other couples, billionaires, criminals and politicians danced the night away with their significant others or dates of the night. It was such a strange gathering that I had really no idea what a mixed group of people like this were doing with each other. I wondered how many of the politicians knew they were dancing around Gotham's finest criminals; or if the billionaires knew that their money was going to corrupt government programs; or if Bruce was getting all the information he needed as Batman.

"You're thinking too much—relax and enjoy yourself, Giada. You deserve it," Bruce whispered into my ear, taking notice to my absence of self as we danced. I peered up at him and smiled. He knew me too well.

"Are you getting a lot of information from the criminals?" I whispered back to him, careful not to whisper too auspiciously.

"I'm finding out things I didn't know before, which is a good thing," Bruce retorted back with a positive smile.

"Good!" I responded happily as he twirled me around in a circle and then pulled me back close to him. As soon as our bodies touched and as Bruce held me close to him, my mind immediately raced towards the Joker. I wished in that moment, as much as I cared for Bruce as my best friend, that he was the Joker holding me that close. I nonchalantly tilted my head in the direction Pixie and the Joker had been in an attempt at getting a glimpse at him, but it was near impossible with the crowd on the dance floor. Suddenly, I felt Bruce's face directly next to mine, his cheek gliding so close that I could feel the heat from his skin.

"Looks like someone wants to see you," Bruce whispered as he turned me around in a dance-like spin so that I was facing the Joker. He stood casually on the dance floor with a blank expression on his painted face. I still wasn't sure as to why he even painted his face for this event, but I chose not to ask questions. I stopped dancing with Bruce and just stood still on the dance floor, my eyes locked with his and neither of us moving. Bruce's hand still lingered on the small of my back and then out of my peripheral gaze, I thought I saw another familiar woman. It was in that same instance Bruce's hand left my back. I turned my head to see him turn towards to woman too. That was when we heard the screams and people yelling.

"Is there a doctor in the house?!" someone screamed. It sounded so cliché—like something you hear out of the movies. There was a crowd gathering around someone on the other side of the dance floor. I didn't see anyone else running over to the crowd, so I figured I was the only medically trained professional present. Bruce and the Joker both flashed me equally different looks: Bruce's was one of go save this person and the Joker's was more of tested amusement, finally something exciting is happening! Without a second thought, I rushed through the crowd with the Joker and Bruce not far behind me, and the familiar woman behind Bruce. Selina Kyle had finally made her presence known at the ball. She took Bruce's hand, alerting him she was finally there, and a look of pure relief spread across his face as their gazes met.

I turned back to the crowd "I'm a nurse practitioner! What's going on here?" I shouted as loudly as I could, shoving my way through the billionaires, criminals and politicians until I finally got to the clearing. I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating in that moment. Either that or it had sunken so far down into my stomach that my stomach decided to digest it.

Pixie was curled up on the floor lying in a pool of amniotic fluid, writhing in pain. She was in labour. Pixie was in labour and there as a good possibility she would deliver that baby here on the dance floor. I felt Bruce's strong hand on my shoulder for reassurance in that one grasp of strength, I took in a deep breath and decided I would help her. I immediately crouched down to my knees.

"Give us room, people—and a little privacy here!" I shouted at the crowd and then glared back at Pixie, "Pixie, I'm going to need to remove your bottom clothing—I need to check and see how dilated you are,"

"Oh hell no, bitch! You are not going anywhere near me down there!" Pixie screamed.

"This is the only way! There's still a chance we can call the ambulance and they can get you to the hospital before this baby comes—but if you're too dilated, I'm going to have to deliver this baby here," I explained to her curtly.

"Someone call the ambulance!" I called out behind me. Bruce already had his phone up to his ear, dialing. Without regard for Pixie, I removed her wet bottoms and underwear and tossed them aside. As soon as she spread her legs, I knew it was going to be too late. There was no need for me to even check to see if she was dilated. Pixie screamed in pain as her contraction lead to the crowning of her premature baby.

"Okay Pixie, you're crowning here—you need to keep your legs spread and I need you to push!" I instructed her as I gently placed my hand on the baby's head. Pixie hurled out a blood curdling yell as she pushed with all her might. Luckily, or unluckily, the baby was very small as it slowly emerged.

"The ambulance is on its way, Giada," Bruce called over to me. While I heard that good news, I had to keep focused. As the baby's head emerged, I gently guided it out, followed by the baby's shoulders.

"Keep breathing Pixie, you're good great!" I instructed as the baby finally emerged entirely. I quickly wiped away any remaining fluid and mucous from the baby's nose, eyes and mouth. Bruce handed me a cloth napkin from one of the tables and wrapped the tiny baby in the napkin. It couldn't have been any larger than 3 1/2 lbs. Not quite a preemie, but close enough. I glanced up at Pixie, who had fallen nearly comatose into a state of unconsciousness. Either she passed out from the pain, or she was literally that tired from labour. I knew she couldn't stay asleep for long—the placenta would be emerging shortly. Still holding the tiny baby, I turned towards the Joker and looked up at him. He shook his head from side to side. It was clear he didn't want the crowd knowing the baby was his. I couldn't decide in that moment if that was necessarily a good or bad thing of him to do.

"Pixie, you need to stay with me here," I said, slapping her on the face to wake her up. As she came to, I placed the baby to her chest and told her to keep her legs open for the placenta.

"You mean it's not over yet?!" she shrieked, her voice so shrill with anger that she made the baby cry. It was as though her angst started the placental birth. It quite quickly emerged.

"Push, Pixie! It's almost out," I exclaimed, as I directed the placenta out of her and placed it on the floor next to her and the baby. I didn't have the proper tools to cut the umbilical or placental cords.

"EMT's! Where's the emergency?!" one of the EMTs called through the whispering crowd from the door way.

"Over here! We have a white female here, late twenties who just gave birth to a baby boy. Placenta and umbilical cord both in tact. Baby looks like it may need some time in the NICU," I instructed the EMTs. And with that, I was off my knees, covered in amniotic fluid and backing away from the whole scene. My job was done.

"You did a good thing, Giada," Bruce said to me as I brushed by him.

"I didn't know she was going to be here," Selina said, nearly astonished as she gazed at Pixie, who was still on the ground being treated by the EMTs.

I hastily made my way to the bathroom where I promptly scrubbed my hands in an attempt at getting any internal remnants of that bitch Pixie from my skin. I was enormously dismayed that the amniotic fluid managed to find its way to my favorite dress. Feeling dejected and exhausted, I sat down in the bathroom at the powdering-of-the-nose station, where I lay my head down into my hands. Silently, the Joker crept up behind me and placed his gloved hand on my bare shoulder. Startled, I jerked my head up and saw him standing there.

"What are you doing in here?!" I exclaimed, half annoyed, half excited. He grinned and then licked his lips.

"You know, in some countries, they eat placenta," he stated, matter-of-factly. I raised a curious eyebrow at him, but couldn't help but crack a smile. It was the strangest thing he could have said in that moment, but it was perfect. I turned my head back towards the mirror and gaze up at him through the mirror.

"So what are you going to name him?" I asked, trying not to seem too solemn that the love of my life just had a baby with my worst enemy.

"You think I've been conjuring up names, Giada? Really?" he asked, licking the inside of his mouth, feeling around at the scars.

"Well, I guess I figured since you were somewhat involved in this whole thing that maybe you had a name in mind," I responded flatly and changing my gaze from him down to the counter.

"I suppose if I had to pick a name, it would be…Giada for a girl…and…Jack for a boy," the Joker responded with a sly grin. I peered up at him in the mirror once more.

"Well, it's not a girl…so that rules out Giada. I guess Jack it is…named for you, I guess," I responded.

"Uh, I'm thinking…no. Why don't you pick a name," the Joker coaxed.

"Don't even test me, Joker. This is your kid with Pixie—I'm not coming up with the baby's name," I retorted curtly.

"I think it would be…more fitting…if you named the baby. Pixie hates you, and will probably be a terrible…mother…it's only sane for you to name him," the Joker tongued at his latent scars once more, edging me with his deep gaze to come up with a name.

"Well, if it were my baby, I'd name him something Italian, like Alessandro, or Giacomo, or Vincenzo," I explained, "but I guess if you wanted a non-Italian name…I don't know, maybe Braidon would be befitting for him?" I asked.

"Braidon. That's…interestingggg," he purred, reaching his hand down and stroking my shoulder. We both sat in silence for a moment, pondering the name and the circumstances at hand. I couldn't believe Pixie now had living proof of her union with the Joker. I only wished it could have been me giving birth to his son or daughter. The mere thought made my blood boil. Suddenly, my eyes flew upward at him.

"He's not our son," I snapped at him, stood to my feet and stormed out of the bathroom, leaving him to his thoughts—whatever they were.