T R A P P E D 3

Twenty-Five

"No! No, Joker, I'm not trying to change you!" My voice comes out a little too fast, and a little too desperate. I try to soften it. "I just-" He cuts me off, the anger flashing in his eyes.

"YOU JUST WHAT?! I already told you, Alex, I'm not going to change! Not for you, not for anybody!" I see the workers peeking, and it makes my stomach clench. This isn't how I wanted this conversation to go. I take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to ground myself. Okay, Alex, stay calm. Don't get defensive. He's scared, even if he won't admit it. I think to myself.

"I know." I say softly, trying to meet his gaze, without backing down. "I know you won't change who you are." My voice wavers slightly, and the memory of him bleeding out on that warehouse floor hits me like a physical blow. My eyes sting. "But I don't want anything else to happen to you, Joker." I look directly into his eyes, letting the raw fear and love I feel for him show. "When Harley shot you, I thought...I thought that was it. That we'd never get to this." I gesture around the half-finished house, a symbol of our fragile new beginning, "And when people realize you're back, it won't be a welcome wagon. They'll come after you, hard. I know you're strong, incredibly so, but..." My voice cracks. "There's always that part of me that will be terrified. You can be furious with me, call me names, I really don't care right now. But as your fiancée, and the mother of our daughters...yeah, I'm allowed to be concerned. I'm allowed to be cautious because I love you and I love our girls." He huffs, and I can see the frustration warring with something else in his eyes. Maybe a flicker of understanding? I honestly don't know.

"Harley caught me off guard, that much is true, but I won't let that happen again. I've hired more security to ensure you and the girls' safety, and I highly doubt that anyone would be bold enough to come at me."

"Okay." I say, trying to keep my voice even. "Okay, let's say you're right. Everyone stays away. Paint me a picture then, Joker. We finish this house, we move in, and then what? Do you just...go back to the way things were? Aren't you tired of looking over your shoulder? Tired of the chaos?" I search his eyes again, for any signs of weariness, but all I see is anger. His jaw tightens.

"The only thing I'm tired of...is this conversation. If you don't like how I'm choosing to live my life, then you are more than welcome to go back to Daddy Batsy, and leave me to do what I do best." He hisses at me. That stings, even though I know he's lashing out. He's scared of this too, in his own way. I take another breath, feeling my anger rising.

"Do you even want to get married, Joker? Do you even want to be a father? No, seriously," I emphasize, my voice firm despite the tremor inside. "Inquiring minds want to know because if this is just a temporary thing for you, if you're just waiting to bolt back to the streets, then maybe we should both know that now." I hold his gaze, refusing to back down, needing to know where I truly stand. Where we truly stand.

The air crackles between us, thick with unspoken fears and resentments. His eyes, usually so bright with mischief, are clouded with a storm of emotions I can't quite decipher - anger, yes, but also something that looks a lot like hurt. He looks away for a moment, his jaw working as if he's grinding his teeth. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the distant sounds of hammers and saws from the workers. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing the uncertainty of his answer.
Finally, he looks back at me, his gaze intense.

"Don't be stupid, kitten." His voice is rough, lower than before, the sharp edges slightly softened. "Of course I want to marry you. And those little terrors." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "They're...they're something else. Something good." He takes a step closer, and I can see the vulnerability flicker in his eyes, quickly masked by his usual guarded expression. "Do you think I'd go through all this...this domesticity if I didn't want it? This isn't exactly my natural habitat, you know." He gestures around the messy state of the house with a wry twist of his mouth. He reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine despite the tension. "And don't ever think I don't care about what happened to me. Seeing you like that...scared...it was worse than the damn bullet." His thumb brushes across my bottom lip. "So, yeah, I get it. You're worried. But you gotta trust me to handle my own shit. Just like I gotta trust you to be you."

He hesitates for a moment, then adds, almost grudgingly, "And yeah, maybe I am tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. Maybe a little peace and quiet wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. But it has to be on my terms, Alex. Not because you're trying to turn me into some suburban drone." He steps back, the familiar defensiveness returning to his posture. "So, yeah. I want the wedding. I want to be there for the girls. But I also...I need to know I'm still me. Understand?"

His answer isn't a complete reassurance, but it's something. A crack in the wall he's built around himself. A reluctant admission that maybe, just maybe, he wants this life with me and our daughters, even if it scares him. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Yeah, Joker." I say softly, my own eyes still a little damp. "I think I understand." It's not everything I wanted to hear, but it's a start. A fragile bridge across the chasm that has always threatened to swallow us whole. Now, the real work begins - learning to trust each other in this new, unfamiliar territory.