Author's Notes: The end is here.

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The Joker: Heath Ledger

Harley Quinn: Brittany Murphy

R.I.P To both of these amazing actors.

Summary: There's something maddening about the unexpected, but drastic changes calls for drastic measures.

For Now

"Yeah, I'm not such a sweet thing.

I wanna do everything.

What a beautiful feeling."

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts - "Crimson & Clover" (1982)

Epilogue

It was too quiet.

He brushed the granite ever so lightly with the base of his fingertips. The counter tops were as spotless as they ever were, not a single miniscule grain of dust stuck to his skin like magnets on a fridge. Suddenly remembering, Bruce turned to face the fridge, and found that the ultrasound photo of Lucy that was once the only display on the white surface was replaced by a single note.

'Thanks for everything,' it read in neat handwriting with scarce pressure. The small lettering drowned in the endless pools of white chemicals in the sheet of paper, as if wanting to blend in from guests with quick glances. But, Bruce was never really a guest in this home that he lent to her.

Confusion overtook his features until realization hit him.

He darted up the stairs to find that the second level was just as empty as the first; she was gone. The baby was gone. Their stuff was gone—cleaned out of the closets, while his possessions were left in the order he had last left them.

The hangers in the closet were not strewn about and the bed had been neatly made, meaning that Harley couldn't have been in a rush to leave. But, upon further inspection, he found dried, smeared blood on one of the endtables next to the bed. He was too familiar with the substance to mistake it for anything else, besides nail polish had thicker consistency and he never really noticed Harley sporting the trend.

The sign of red twisted the knot in his empty stomach while the hollowness in his chest burrowed in. An icy coldness spread across his broad shoulders in inconsistent ripples as his eyes frantically searched for any sign of Harley or the baby—anything that gave way that this was just some sick joke. But, he knew. As much as he wished it weren't true, he just knew the truth behind the curtain.

It didn't help that he caught sight of the car keys on the keyholder when he had first walked in, further closing other possibilities of their disappearance. "He was here," the words grounded out through his clenched teeth.

It was proof that no matter what, the Joker was never too far behind the curve—never mind the newspaper print about the "mystery woman" he was spotted with that Alfred had lectured him about having to be more careful of concealing Harley from the public eye and her safety. Wow. Bruce didn't stop himself from slapping his hand against his forehead from his own sheer stupidity. Of course the Joker kept his focus on current events, it is how he moved so quickly.

Never has he ever underestimated the Joker as much as he just did.

Bruce knows he has not visited her and the baby in months. Harley could've been taken—no, she could've left months ago or even hours ago. It's not like he could tell because the Joker has carried himself the same way he's always had, except without Harley joining in on the crime sprees. It was as though nothing had changed, but she is with him. There was no other explanation for this disappearance.

Bruce sat on the bed as both of his hands slicked his hair back as the crease between his eyebrows became more evident. He had been utterly blind by the growing compassion for her as a friend and something more he had wished to explore if granted.

He remembered catching a couple of views of the dainty blonde when she worked at Arkham when he payed visits to check the security his funding had paid for, and he immediately had feared for something unpleasant to crawl her way. Especially after hearing many wonderful things about her from formal exchange amongst others in her professional field. Even Rachel had shared a compliment or two about Harleen from their brief conversations in the court house.

At the time, he had hoped that the pressure Gotham instills in its citizens would never crack the genuine Dr. Harleen Quinzel—hell, he hopes for the best for anyone who isn't yet corrupt in Gotham. Arkham had been fine until the Joker was assigned under her care. After that, Arkham lost two of their best psychiatrists within months. A blow that the facility has yet to recover from.

She has succumbed to the Joker twice now, not including the arguments that have driven Harley to stay with Poison Ivy for a couple days, and he didn't even know where to find them. But getting to know her this year, he was grateful to learn from their exchange that no matter what Harley would always carry the goldness of her heart from before—the little bit of Harleen that is too attached to ever be removed.

Yet he couldn't shake off the squeezing in his chest as his shoulders began to tremble telling him he has failed her, adding her to the list among others who have fallen into the hands of Gotham's underground.

Bruce was left with the hollow remnants of what was once filled with lively activity as though he was part of this quiet and depressing ghost life, as though he was the widow husband who had just lost his family after a tragedy.

With his hand, he tried to rub away the worry emerging from his facial features, and from the question that plagued his thoughts: what will happen now that she knows that he, the Bruce Wayne, is the Batman?

Months later...

She stepped out of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower with towel-dried hair, in her satin robe to find the melodic voice of Joan Jett singing softly and the rythmic instruments of pure rock and roll playing from the small speakers of the turntable and a cooing Lucy on the changing table with a preoccupied Joker.

Harley smiled when Lucy's drowsy form let out a lazy giggle at her daddy's antics, well aware that he was obviously struggling from her stand point. "You're doing it wrong," amusement evident in her tone.

Harley switched off the lights from the bathroom as he let out a curse under an exasperated sigh. The Joker stepped aside to let her take over Lucy's diaper duty. "Ain't she supposed to be shitting in the toilet by now?"

She huffed a laugh, "Not until she has complete mobility of her legs, puddin'. Until then, we're stuck with changing diapers."

She turned back to look at him and ushered him closer until he was resting his chin on her shoulder, peering over. "Here, I'll show you."

Discarding the stickyless diaper the Joker had repeatedly tried unsuccessfully with, Harley placed a new one under Lucy's bottom. "See, place it under her, bring it over, and clasp it together...and, we are done."

Harley dressed Lucy in pink footie pajamas smothered in yellow hearts. "Not so hard, is it?" she held Lucy in her arms and found an incredulous look on the Joker's clean face.

"What?"

Pulling the most serious face of disgust he could muster, he asked as he pointed towards Lucy's sleep garment, "Is that what you're dressing her in?"

Harley looked at the fresh pair of girly pajamas on their daughter. "What's wrong with it?"

"It looks like she ate dozens of pink and yellow crayons and puked it back up. Doesn't she own like green or purple, or even red or black?" He cracked a grin when Harley began swatting him with her free hand, "It looks cute, you asshole."

She added a bounce to her step as she took Lucy to her own crib before placing her down for the night. Bundling Lucy in the warm blanket, Harley lowered herself and placed a delicate kiss on Lucy's head. "Goodnight, baby."

The lights were turned off while Lucy's night light took its place before arms slipped their way around her waist as he presumed resting his chin on her shoulder in silent contentment. They watched as Lucy's eyelids locked themselves away from the world in a realm of slumber. "We made that," she commented in admiration, and he hummed in response as he felt the corner of his lip raise.

After a moment of motionless tranquility, the Joker spun Harley around, pulling her body closer to his in a silent dance. She complied by wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder as he softly hummed with the rhythm, while the music's timid volume seemed to grow in intensity as she focused solely on their proximity.

He smelled of cologne-scented aftershave—shaving, a simple task that often left nicks on his scars if he wasn't precise with the razor around the rigids of the raised tissue. The aftershave had been a gift she had bought him some time ago to which he still fussed about the scent it left from time to time; he didn't like smelling like anything other than gunpowder and grease paint. Though it didn't matter how he felt, Harley liked the old spice smell the bottle contained when slathered over his free-of-paint skin. Inhaling the masculine aroma from him brought her to new highs of conformity.

A longing for being socially accepted in society remained with Harley, though she accepted his way of philosophy, and he accepted her wishes of staying out of the business, though they wished it was as simple as a statement. The Joker could become frustrated against her prudence to chaos, while Harley would grow lonely with the baby when he was away for long hours. And the time spent to her own devices, Harley tended to overthink many things regarding their daughter and the past. But, it was the little things like his fragranced aftershave and the moments of being held in his arms that wrapped a fuzzy blanket around her little world in comfort.

The Joker rested his forehead against hers and began mouthing the words of the song to her. A fire lit in his orbs and he couldn't resist kissing her when plumped lips revealed straight teeth in a dazzling smile, eluminated by the glow of Lucy's night light, that embellished her features. His warm lips molded over her soft ones, prompting her to pull him in closer to her small frame by tightening her hold around his neck.

In the midst of the moment, the Joker's lips trailed their way down to the exposed flesh of her neck, smothering the area with attention. Still in just her robe, Harley muttered between gasps with little meaning, "I should get dressed for bed."

A smirk imbedded on his lips before he offered a playful remark, "We can fix that," as his warm hands slipped the robe off of her slender shoulders, watching the light material fall and nestle around her bare feet in satin waves before peeling off his own t-shirt and boxers, and leading her to their bed.

As the record ended and the turntable was forced to stop itself, he climbed on top of her and pulled the sheets over. It was naturally left forgotten for the rest of the night as they continued their intimate ministrations.

Some days, like this evening, their personal life could be filled with tranquility, while others were plagued by sour moods and quick lashings. Not much had changed after the Joker had brought them back home, except for his patience. His patience wore thin with a bit more endeavor, while keeping his word in never directing his anger towards their daughter, while keeping it away from her.

On top of the usual, other pebbles of worry bundled themselves in their minds. He worried over his legacy, and if society would shun Lucy for having him as a father and Harley as a mother. Harley's worries weren't too far from his—how would Lucy live a normal life if it is what she desires?

The clown couple never mentioned California, or the vacation home, nor Bruce Wayne; it was as if Harley and the baby had never left the Joker's side. As if he had been there all along to build a connection with their daughter when she was in the womb by blowing raspeberries on Harley's pregnant tummy, to offer Harley back rubs whenever her back would ache from carrying child, and accompany her to her doctor's appointments. It sometimes drove Harley mad. And, sometimes it drove him mad because he'd grow tired of pretending nothing had change, as though Harley had never packed a duffel and left him during the time she had spent across the country to start all over with another man..a wealthy man.

He'd grow tense just thinking about the inherited billionaire and the time Harley had spent in his presence. He's far from stupid, he knows that Harley embodies beauty while Bruce accompanied himself with attractive women—pictures were splattered all over prints. The Joker wouldn't put it pass him that the playboy hadn't tried to brush up against Harley as he lavished her with his vacation home and gifts. Though Harley had denied that "nothing happened" between them, he knows her too well to know that the shift in her gaze and the slight click with her tongue meant that she wasn't speaking entirely in truth. She has never been a good liar.

Harley's caught the Joker glaring at her with something close to accusation in his depths when he was in a phase of being too far gone to contain himself, further indicating her suspicions that he suspects the short-lived romance between her and Bruce. However confusing and one-sided platonic it was, there was an underlying guilt beneath her skin, eating at her core.

Just weeks ago, with a babbling Lucy playing with her hair, Harley had been surprised to find a current newspaper on the coffee table in their makeshift living room of Bruce Wayne about one of his charities. She didn't think the Joker would leave a printed picture of Bruce lying around considering the blank arritation it could bring him to. Though not in the flesh, seeing him for the first time in months brought a single tear to her eye as she realized how much she's missed his company, as well as noticing a lacking spark in his charming demeanor with another nameless woman clinging to him on the cover.

Since then, Harley sometimes dreams of bumping into him with his expensive suits in public, while she is taking a stroll with Lucy. Keeping a low profile by wearing a sun hat and sunglasses, she could give him a passing glance to let him know she was okay. Even this small of a gesture of closure would be enough for her.

In these fulfilling moments in saccharine sentiment, they could get drunk off each other's needs, leaving their worries temporarily in the dark. They'd lose themselves to the passion of existing in each other's embrace when they are just 'Jay' and 'Harl' to one another. As the small glow of the night light was exiled by the sheet the Joker pulled over their bodies, they were certain that they would have many years to ponder on the difficulties of having a child under their care. For now they would feel nothing, but bask in the blissful moment of their heated touches.

She could feel her tummy rumbling in want as he reached for her velvety petals below, soon eliciting a hushed moan from her parted lips as he breathed into her ear how much he felt for her, "Crimson and clover, over and over."

Author's Note: I'm often an angsty sort of music listener. I had to bust out happy-melodies and bitterweet love songs to get in the mood to write the second half of this final chapter. I gotta say this one was a small challenge because I've never written a happy ending before. I'd like to thank Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, 'Til Tuesday, and Bruce Springsteen (specifically his song Dancing in the Dark, which was a runner up for being chosen as the title of this final chapter although with a different meaning behind the lyrics) for the inspiration.

Other than that, I'm feeling great! This is the first of many, story-length, creative projects that I've ever actually finished. Although this is shorter than my original, planned works, I'm very proud none the less.

THANK YOU TO ALL OF MY BEAUTIFUL REVIEWERS! And thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! No, seriously, you guys have stuck around and supported this story thus far and I'm very glad I could write something people actually enjoyed and possibly will continue to enjoy in the future.

Tillyman: Woe, I've never heard someone say that about breastfeeding, but whatever floats your boat!

lala3366: I hope I answered all of your questions, if not, hopefully I've given you glimpses of the possibilities.

TumblrBroughtMeHere: You mean a choir boy possessed by satan isn't your type? (By the way, I saw this incredibly accurate description of Cillian Murphy on Tumblr once, and has stuck ever since) And, he's not my type either, but there's definitely something mesmerizing about him.

Gemstar24: I hope you liked it!

XxxoxoxxX: Here's some more fluff!

Guest: :)

Thank you once again! Hopefully I hear from you guys whenever I decide to write another story.

11/25/2017