1So... it was a little rough being the Joker's daughter.

But it could be worse, right? I mean, I was well taken care of, had nice things, and my life was usually very stable.

Unless he was out of Arkham.

Then things got a little hectic.

--

Dad looked ready to kill.

Seriously.

I surreptitiously went to the main sitting room and told the current thugs to step out for a few hours. He wouldn't kill me or Harley, but thugs were a dime a dozen.

And we went through a dozen pretty quickly.

I then set up camp on the worn but comfy sofa with a book and a small throw blanket with Betty Boop on it. A present from Harley.

It didn't take long for the crashing about in his main rooms to stop, and as I made a mental countdown I heard him growling something to Harley.

Three, two, and he burst through the door.

He glared around the room and then his eyes landed on me. "Where'd they go?"

"Sick leave," I said smoothly, turning the page in my book.

His lips twitched, still upset, but ever amused that I did my best to look after the thugs - I was fond of these ones, they'd gotten me some good books in the past two weeks.

Then he sighed dramatically and flopped down beside me on the couch, crossing his arms and leaning into me as he looked over my shoulder.

"You started a new one?" he asked in disbelief. "'What did Miggs say to you? He told me he could smell my cunt. Interesting. I, myself, cannot.'" He scowled. "What the hell are you reading?"

He moved to pluck the book from my hands but I was ready for the move and I tucked the book between my hip and the couch.

"It's a physiological thriller about a man named Hannibal Lecter, a psychologist cannibal who is locked up for life in an asylum, and the woman who comes to interview him whom he opens up to for an unknown reason and helps her solve the case of a serial killer."

As soon as I'd explained I recognized the distinct similarities between my father and Harley and the two main characters of my novel. That was weird. What was that subconscious trigger, where daughters are influenced strongly by their fathers?

He seemed taken aback as well, then snorted and swung his arms around my shoulder. "Finally taking an interest in the life of your dear daddy, huh sweetie-pie?"

I removed his arm and childishly stuck out my tongue.

He raised a brow and I quickly sucked it back in. When I was younger he'd threaten to confiscate my tongue if it went past my lips. Now that I was older I took the threat more seriously.

"This Lector fellow, he escape?"

"Yes. During a move from one prison to another, under full supervision. He was cuffed, but had a needle in his skin, when they cuffed him to bring in food he picked the lock, and attacked a guard, devouring half his face before killed the other man. He escaped the building by wearing the second mans face as a mask."

Joker grinned slightly. "Clever man."

"Sick man."

"Smart."

"Sadistic."

"You speak fondly of him."

I hesitated. "He's the bad guy of the book. It paints the good guys as bureaucratic assholes. Of course I root for him. He's not real."

"And what if he was?"

"I would think him a psychopath who needed to be locked up for good or..." I caught myself. There were too many similarities. "Or to find Starling and have her influence him towards not being homicidal or cannibalistic I suppose."

And, of course, because the universe always had such freaky timing coincidences, Harley strode through the door bearing a tray laden with food.

So she was kind of annoying and... really creepily obsessed with my dad... she could cook like no other!

I set up the T.V. trays and she set bowls on each of them, a small salad and a bowl of...

"Harley... is this that one crock pot chicken thing you make?" I asked.

She grinned.

Thank God for a father who attracted crazy women that could make good crock pot meals.

We watched T.V. as we ate, catching the tail end of an old war documentary before the news started up. There were a few quick bits about weather and traffic and then a special bulletin flashed across the screen.

Oh goodie.

"We've just received this footage taken by a civilian last night at the most recent clash of the infamous caped crusader Batman, and the madman villain, The Joker."

I watched as Batman kicked my dads ass, again. And then I heard one of dad's snide comments and groaned.

"Oh you so need new material."

"And, once again, we have received a strange tip that links the Joker to a young girl, the two seen together in a car heading eastbound on Millin Road."

I groaned again. "I told you we should've taken the car with tinted windows, but no, of course not. Do you want the world to know I'm your daughter?"

When he turned his gaze on me and didn't respond I frowned.

"You promised."

"At the time it was best."

"And still is," I said quickly. "Like the cops would let me stay in school. I'd be taken into custody get put into foster care, and school would be absolute hell!"

"We'll discuss it later." He said sharply in a tone I knew better than to argue with.

But, as Harley cleaned up and I put away the tables and sat back down I bit my lip then spoke, looking up at him.

"Please."

He frowned as he looked down at me.

"I know you're the Joker, but I can't be the Joker's daughter."

That made him smirk slightly. "We'll see."

I have no idea where this is going at all.

Seriously.

I just started typing and batman came out...

It was crazy.

I'll finish it, it'll probably just be two chapters, but... huh.

This is very.. Different for me. I'm usually a potter fanfic sort of girl... and I never post my work with OC's... so.. yeah... review and tell me what you think.

It's weird trying to imagine what it would be like to be the Joker's daughter. And how he would respond to a teenage daughter.

What the bloody hell have I started?