The Joker. The world’s most famous criminal.
It’s not just Gotham who knows who he is. It’s everyone. People ask, “Why only Gotham?” The answer is: Because Gotham is all he needs to assert his power.
He does not need a bigger area to rule. But if he wanted to, he could.
A lot of people also question why I married him. Is it because of his power?
No, it’s because of his intelligence. From the moment I met him, I could read him like a book. What was fake and what wasn’t. Though he has a bit of a fake persona, he wouldn’t deliberately lie to me.
His honesty, though, sometimes hurt me.
“Do you like being a father?” I asked one time, but he did not respond. He continued to comb his hair, staring at the mirror before him as if combing was crucial to his life. “Hello?”
He sighed. “I have my reasons to leave that question unanswered.”
I set down my makeup bag and walked over, taking the comb from him. He groaned, turning to me with an irritated look on his face.
“Be completely and brutally honest,” I spoke, searching his eyes. He hesitated, but then finally nodded.
“I don’t want to be a very appealing dad, because one day I could be dead, and I have a feeling he would not handle it well,” he shrugged. “And I am a mad man, and children make me soft.”
I scratched my head in confusion. “You never speak about death,” I thought for a moment. “Well, I mean, your own, at least.”
“Hell no,” he shrugged. “Because most likely, I won’t die, but my mother was murdered when I was a child.”
Confused, I walked out of the room and ran my fingers through my hair. The Joker’s personality had completely progressed, but I had no idea that he, in a way, did care. Of course, he was using a really bad reason to not be around his child, but it showed that he didn’t want Kellen to deal with the loss of a parent.
The Joker would probably never die from his work. He was too smart, and no one dared to kill him. Why would he all of a sudden worry whilst at the peak of his game?
He followed soon after, snaking his arms around my waist, an action he hadn’t made in a while, and it soothed my nerves. I melted in his arms like butter.
“Don’t be a butt,” I sighed.
He chuckled. “What did I even do?”
“You’re doing this so I don’t think about the conversation,” I thought for a moment. “Because you are a butt.”
“I’m your butt,” he rested his head in the crook of my neck, I let out a soft sigh as his lips gently slid along my neck.
“No, my butt is right here!” I slapped my bottom and then pulled away from him, wiping the lipstick from my neck. “You are just a big booty.”
“This conversation is making me lose brain cells,” he teased, turning, walking back into the bedroom. I followed and watched as he picked up Kellen, resting him in his arms.
Kellen reacted by opening his eyes and staring up at his father, but silently closed his eyes and rested his head against Jack’s chest. He was as big as a loaf of bread, and he looked so fragile in Jack’s arms.
Jack’s eyes caught mine. He smiled. “I do love him, though. You know that, right?”
I smiled softly, leaning against the doorframe. “Of course.”