The Ultimate Joke Ch. 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</u>

"One of the first lessons I learned was not to be fooled by appearances. Some people were who they said they were, but others hid. Today, masks would both be sewn and donned and some would be removed."</i>

It stung her nose, but she could nothing but cling to the ivory bowl as her body shook in tenseness as she hurled. Elisa hadn't even eaten her whole breakfast when the nausea washed over her. She dry-heaved before panting and tentatively scooted away, back coming to rest against the wall. She leaned her head against the pale, blue wallpaper and closed her eyes. She'd get up eventually, but for now her body was shaking in the aftershocks her sickness.

This was getting ridiculous.

She had been feeling this way for a week. She clenched her fists, a week too long. This wasn't the flu like she had been saying to Edward to sooth him. No, this sure as hell wasn't the flu. She always seemed to feel better as the day progressed, but the mornings were the worst. She shook her head and slowly pulled herself to her feet. Her steps were a little shaky at first, but she managed to steady them and leave the bathroom.

She descended the stairs in the flat that one of Edward's men had bought for them and entered the kitchen quietly, feeling humiliated. Edward raised his eyes from the newspaper and they flickered to her.

"Do you need medical attention?"

His voice was not a croon, not angry. He had been acting strangely for the last days, and this voice he was using was flat, but something akin to concern colored it.

Elisa shook her head, "It normally goes away. Maybe I'm not eating well, maybe it's stress."

She was not in the mood to get into a fight with Edward, she had just healed from his treatment of her the night Harley had gotten away. She was amazed to find herself still alive and in his bed with him when she came to. Surprised and absolutely livid.

Why couldn't he just kill her?! She'd been asking for it. She hadn't wanted him to at the end, but it would have been preferable to awaking and then after healing, having to apologize to him. She shuddered and took her seat back the table, glaring into her coffee in her sudden horrid mood, not that it wasn't normal these days.

Could nothing work out for her?

"Do you need anymore tampons?"

She blinked up at him. She haven't started yet. She shook her head.

"I'm fine."

"Midol, anything?"

"No." Why was he was being nice, so nonchalant? Normally he was up and planning mischief, attempting to get her to hurry up and help him, but he hadn't been his self in days. He was quiet contemplative, and she sometimes felt him watching her. It wasn't with the calculation he normally did, either. Edward didn't look at her like a toy, it was almost as if he stared at her in actual adoration.

She snorted to herself and stood up, taking her dark mug with her to the sink. She turned on the faucet and began to rinse out the cup. It was everyday, mundane gestures like this that kept even a shred of her thin sanity.

She watched the warm water flow into the cup until it overflowed. Her eyes reminded focused on this for awhile, just feeling the tepid water through her fingers. At some point, though, she knew the rush of the faucet had gone on long enough. She switched it off and left the mug. She inwardly sighed and pivoted around only to find herself frozen as her eyes met his.

He was watching her again.

"Edward," she sighed, "is there any particular reason you're staring at me?"

"Why?" His mouth quirked upwards, the depression in his eyes was now fading. Her gut clenched at that. "Am I not allowed to stare, pooh?"

"No, but you've been doing it a lot."

He nodded to himself, "I'm worried," his voice was honest. "You've grown reclusive, more so. I know, sometimes your spunk gets you into trouble, but I like your fight for the most part, and to see my Enigma sick, well, I'm worried."

"I'm fine, though, probably just stress. I mean that Toronto guy called, right? Harley Quinn is now free falling off the deep end. She has joined forces with the Joker, and I know," she raised her hands in surrender, although her voice was a deadpan, "I let her out and thus allowed for it to happen."

He leaned forward, chin in his hands and raised an eyebrow, "Oh, much more has passed than just that phone call. This morning I received a lovely little package. You were asleep, dear, and your cute innocence saved you my nasty temper. Would you like to guess what was in the gift?"

Elisa shook her head. Edward's fingers were clenching beneath his chin. His lovely</i> mood was coming back. Elisa felt her stomach lurch again. 'No,' she thought, 'not now.' For her credit, she kept her face straight, not letting any distress leak out of her. He continued to regard her, but after it was obvious she would supply nothing, he grinned and stared ahead of himself.

"Photos," he snickered darkly, "photos of Mr. Toronto's corpse. It wasn't fancy, but it appears he served his purpose only to then be executed. I'm lucky I have others in the mob than just that sniveling worm." He was angry, his mouth belied it. Elisa wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more on edge. His cruel, brown eyes turned back to hers. "You are lucky I have more replaceable men. You are also lucky that I have forgiven you for your transgression. Had I not, well-"

She had been listening, but her stomach was cramping. She tried vainly to breathe through her nose. Nausea once again overrode her. That's when her eyes widened. She cut Edward off, as she whipped around and holding on to the sink, allowed herself to once again purge her system. Her eyes misted not in pain, but humiliation as she lurched on her feet. Her knuckles were turning white at the grip they had on the counter, and she was so focused on that that she didn't hear Edward stand up and come behind her. She shivered when she felt his fingers pulling her hair back gently and then he was caressing her back with his palm. She whimpered when she was done.

"Shhh, it's alright" Edward whispered to her as she turned on the water and rinsed her mouth  of the taste. His hand made idle patterns across her back and his hand fell from her hair. Then his grip fell to her hips. "When was the last time I had you for my own," he murmured; his nose began nuzzling her head. "Your skin is absolutely glowing. Of course, they do say that pregnant women are some of the most beautiful creatures. I'm certainly not immune."

She stiffened. Her hands fell to the stomach and rested there. Edward's joined hers. "Yes, pregnant. You're late on your monthly cycle, we've been promiscuous, and you're suffering from morning sickness. All the signs point to it, but if you'd like, I can send one of the boys to a convenience store. Would you like me to get you a pregnancy test?"

Pregnant. Pregnant?! With Edward's child? Her body went into shock, but she nodded mutely. Edward placed a small kiss at her temple and then pulled away. She heard him leave the room, his footsteps growing smaller, but she was immobile for a moment as her eyes stared fixedly ahead.

She was most likely pregnant. Her hands gently ran over her smooth abdomen. She sniffed and her legs crumpled beneath her. She fell to the floor and sobbed.

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It was around noon, when Harley was awoken from her light slumber; she had fallen back asleep not long after the Jack had left. There was a light knock at the door.

She sat up in bed and tilted her head. Jack would have just let himself in; she hadn't locked the door.

"Ms. Harley?"

The voice certainly wasn't his. She pulled her gun from atop her clothing and tucked into the waistband of her underwear in the back. She leaned forward on her elbows.

"You woke me up, come in." She yawned and watched as the door opened.

It was the man from earlier this morning. He fidgeted with his hands as his eyes met hers hesitantly. "I'm sorry to wake you." She grinned, "I believe I could forgive you, but I'd like to know what brings you here. Aren't you suppose to be with Mr. J?"

He nodded, "That's what I came to tell you. He's been captured, Ms. Harley." Her grin fell instantly, "Captured?"

"And most likely sent back to Arkham Asylum."

Harley threw her legs over the edge of the bed and walked to the man, "You're going to tell me everything, alright?"

His gaze flickered in shock at the choice of her attire, but he bowed his head, "Of course, Boss told us, that if anything ever happened to him you were in charge. We were suppose to be pulling your run-of-the-mill heist. We were stealing weapons from some ship in the harbor. We was just loading our goods when the cops showed up. Boss was still on the ship, making sure the charges were in place. Before I knew what was happening the Joker was stepping from the boat, being led by an officer-an officer had posed as a one of the guys that joined us today apparently. Joker gave us a look and then the driver of my car was pulling out. I stared back as I shut the door, but I couldn't do anything."

Harley listened to him and after he was done with the retelling, patted him on the shoulder and nudged him to turn around. "You did good, you told me. I appreciate that, I appreciate it a lot. So here's what you're going to do." She began to push him from the room, he took the hint and began walking. "You gather up all the men, and bring them to the stage. I think I should talk to them. I have a hunch, and besides," she smiled, "I'd like to talk to them personally. So go on then and get them."

"Right away," he rushed down the hallway out of sight. Harley watched him in bemusement before she turned her gaze down the opposite end. She rolled up the sleeves of the Jack's borrow shirt, before running a hand through her probably disheveled blonde hair. She began to walk the direction she gazed.

The exact amount of time that passed was unimportant; she wasn't left alone on the stage for long as the men entered. She stood confidently before them, clothed in little else but the hexagon-patterned shirt. The cool texture of the gun rested against her lower back as she stared at them.

"Afternoon gentlemen," she smiled and looked around the room, "as you know your employer has been caught by the Gotham Police." She frowned. "And that's just not fun, but you see...in order for them to have caught him," she began pacing, staring ahead of herself, "in order for them to catch him, they would have had to have known where he was going to be." She paused and then pivoted around on her bare feet.

"And that's the thing," she lowered her face, staring darkly from beneath her lashes, "the only people who knew were you and me. I've been asleep, and didn't find out 'til this morning where he was going. So that leaves one of you...and as stand-in Boss, I believe my duty is to find out who. So let's start with the simple questions-"

"What you going to do, kick our ass in nothing but a shirt?" One of the men laughed.

Harley grinned dangerously, "That's the idea. Do you have any objections?"

He scoffed humorously, "How are you going to do that?"

Harley straightened her posture and threaded her fingers together, "Oh, you'll find out, chum. You'll find out. So where was I before that rude</i> interruption?...Ah, so who went with Mr. J on the heist today?" She cooed at them.

Of course the guy who had spoken with her before raised his hand, but the others were reluctant. She snickered. "Alright, then." She pointed at the man. "You, come up here." He reluctantly stood up and alighted the stage. Harley directed him to stand beside her and then threw an arm around his shoulder.

"Point to one of the men that went on the job with you."

He did as directed and Harley called upon the man, a blonde-haired male in the second row.

"You, there, I know you went on the heist. Want to direct me to another one of your companions?"

"How about no, Boss, may have put you in charge, but I'm not apt to take orders from a woman. What'd he think you do?"

Harley dismounted the stage and nimbly made way her to stand before him. She reached behind her and extracted her gun. "I believe he thought I'd do this," she pointed it at him. He and the others around him went still. She smirked. "Now, either you tell me of your own volition and you get off scotch free for now. I'll forget your disrespect. Or I'll shoot you, you won't ever go home, if you have one, and he'll</i> tell me another name. You may not like him, but he understands the rules, unlike you. So, what's it going to be, and oh, you only have thirty seconds."

She blinked at him, her expression sadistic. He was wondering if she was bluffing. Did he want to take that risk? He gulped as the gun began to rise. Her grin grew wider, her finger began to compress the trigger-

"WAIT!" He threw his hands up, "I'll tell ya," she didn't remove her gun from its aim. She raised an eyebrow and her free hand waved for him to continue. "The guy beside me." She turned the gun on him. "Now, boys, I know you're a little antsy. Anyone would be with a gun, but I just request that you stay seated...I don't think anyone of you wants to know how fast of a draw I am, so let's not test it...you might not like the result." She spoke to all the men, but her eyes were on the man she had the pistol pointed it. "So a name?"

Getting the men wasn't challenge after that. Her behavior, hinging on madness, and her ability to seeming glare into your soul with those eyes of hers, soon showed the men why their boss had chosen this girl to be his partner; they knew now why she was their boss as well.

She brought all the men who had gone on the heist to the stage and then, one by one, as their comrades waited in the audience, she drew each one privately to the rear of the stage. No one heard the conversation, but afterwards they would all return to their previous positions on the stage, some pale, others seemingly relieved. Harley wasn't going to let her psychiatric skills go to shambles. They came in handy in this field of business. Just because she would most likely lose her accreditation after she was found to be an accomplice, didn't mean she wasn't still a doctor that knew the mind well.

Finally the last of the men that had accompanied Jack on the heist reappeared back on stage with Harley close behind. She turned to the men and gave them a smile. "If I tap ya on the shoulder, you can go take your seat again." And she walked towards the line of men, one-by-one dismissing them.

Two were left standing on the it the end. She turned to them, a stony-face man with curly black hair and a pale, quivering male whose red hair was cut in a fade. She stared intently at them. "And then there were two...so do you know why you're left here?"

Neither of them said anything.

Harley aimed her gun between them and turned to the rest of the men, "Do you know why they're still up here?"

"Cuz the broad dinks we had somethin' ta do wit' the Joker's capture."

Harley pivoted around and stared at the blacked-haired man, whose accented voice had replied over her head. "Right-a-rooney," she laughed, "so you want to own up to it now? If ya admit I'll let you go."

"He forced me to help him!" The shaky-one exclaimed, pointing at the other, who merely rolled his eyes.

"Bastard deserved it. We ain't been on many decent heists since he got out. First we's forced to search for ya, den cart him back an' forth 'tween here and dere. He's gotten weak, and all 'cuz what, a pair 'a nice tits?! You must be a good fuck, for him to have kept you around and den had da balls to tell us you's in charge. What are ya, his fetish freak whore? I bet ya don't even have da balls to pull dat trigger. You just act tough like 'im, you ain't foolin' me."

"Fetish, freak whore," Harley repeated, biting her lip as she smiled, trying not to laugh. "Well, I must say, I've not been call that ever. Actually, I was his doctor, and as much as I appreciate your compliments on my bust, well...Did you say I wouldn't have the balls to pull this trigger?" Her eyes flashed, "Now there's a challenge there." She turned to look at the shaky-one. "You should have known that had he not found you out, I would. But like I said," she waved her gun as if pondering, "I'll let you go." The gun halted and she pulled the trigger.

After the sound died away the red-head was on his back atop the stage, a bullet hole in his forehead. She sighed, "I never said how I'd let you go...oops, should have mentioned that before." She shrugged and turned to the man who had told her off.

"Were you talking about in general, or do I have to shoot you too to prove my point?"

The man was staring mutely at the now dead body of his accomplice. He glared up at her, "You little bitch."

"What, you said I wouldn't pull the trigger." She laughed. "And now because I did, you call me a bitch? You're being awfully rude, ya know."

His nostrils flared and then he dove at her, "You have no right, freak!" She shook her head and brought her knee to his stomach. He coughed and she punched him in the jaw, before sweeping her leg beneath him. He fell to the wooden stage. She aimed her gun at his temple.

"Freak? You need to broaden your vocabulary. My name is Harley Quinn. And I believe I have a right to do as I want with you, and as of right now, you're the only one who doesn't quite understand that. Your boss put me in charge, thus I am the Boss for now. I really don't like guys like you. Just because I'm pretty, just because I'm short and a woman, you just don't think I can handle myself. My name is Harley Quinn, and you, my idiotic traitor are finished, buh-bye." She laughed and shot him several times, each signaled by a rise in her laughter.

When she was finished, she turned back to the audience and tucked her gun back against her back. "So, anyone else want to argue with me? Anyone else have a problem with me as head of this operation for now?"

No said a word. She grinned and then it happened, two sets of booming laughter echoed around the hall. She glared up at the culprits: two African-American men in the third row. One had a purple stud in his right ear and dreads; the other was bald with a green stud in his left ear. They were both lanky, but possessed muscle.

"Do you find me funny, gentlemen?" Her voice was lace with poison.

"Nah, Ms. Q," the bald one said, "we're laughin' with ya. You got spunk, and Bud and I, we respect that. We're impressed, ain't we, Bud?"

The other nodded, "Hell yes. No wonder Boss-man likes ya. So's you need any help, like getting rid of those two fleabags? Lou and I'll help."

Bud and Lou, huh? She grinned, "I'd love that, boys, would you be so kind?"

The two began to get up. Harley nodded. "Thanks, now that the trash is being taken out, some of you will be escorting me back to my home. I need to get some clothes...as much as running around in just this little number would be, I think some of you are enjoying it a little too</i> much. Besides, we need to get Mr. J out of Arkham...and I believe I have just the thing, but I'll need some help. Bud, Lou, when I get back, report to me immediately, I have something special I'd like the two of ya to do."

"Sure thing, Ms. Q!" Bud grinned as he and Lou alighted the stage and picked up the bodies.

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The little plus sign didn't lie, and after that little plus sign, three times in a row from three different tests, she believed it.

Elisa watched, sitting on the toilet dejectedly, as Edward came into the bathroom and made a beeline for her. She held out her hand which held the final test. He took it and stared at it a moment, before he grinned.

"It's official, then, huh?" He said and threw it in the trash.

He squatted down before Elisa and raised her chin with his hands, "Aw, why such the long face, my dear? Surely you knew it was bound to happen. We never use any protective action." She remained quiet refusing to look at him, although she was afraid she would anger him. He only sighed, "Is it the fact that we're in the middle of a 'turf-war', you could say?" Still she said nothing. She wasn't mad at the baby. It couldn't help how it was conceived and by who. She just felt numb. She was angry at Edward, for even using her so that now she had a life inside her, she was mad at herself being such a pushover. She angry, as well, for almost fully buying into Edward's sweet act. He had not harmed her in days and now he was being gentle.

His arms thread around her middle. He laid his head on her shoulder. He wasn't even mad that she had gotten pregnant, wasn't that messing with his plans?

"You planned this?" Her voice was bitter.

Edward laughed softly and he buried his head into her neck, "No, I didn't plan it, but I expected it could happen. We did nothing to prevent it, my little Enigma, but I don't regret it. How can I? A child, I know I am not the most patient of men, but I can try, right?"

She couldn't say anything and Edward's lips began to litter her jaw with small kisses. "I'm sorry if this was unexpected to you," his voice was deep, he pulled her closer to him and then stood up. She found herself in his arms. "Let me apologize, let me make it better." His kiss was gentle, reminding her of the first nights she had shared with him. Her heart sputtered in anguished fight, he didn't mean it, she knew it. He couldn't, but her lips separated for him. He held her tightly to himself as she was made of fragile glass.

He was tender as he carried her from the room and laid her upon their bed. He tucked strands of her hair behind her ear and kissed her nose.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, and he was, adoringly so. Yet Elisa was too far jaded to be fooled, even as she wished to be. Ignorance had been the first trait Edward had forced from her.