Chapter Text
Jonny knew something was wrong four and a half seconds after his boss answered the call.
The lazy grin on his face froze, and all it took was a twitch of the lip to turn that smile into a snarl.
The Joker listened quietly for two more seconds as cold fury crept over every tense muscle in his body. And then he was on his feet, marching from the meeting room with Frost on his heels.
“When,” the clown barked. He never asked for information - it was always a demand.
Behind him, Jonny was already issuing orders to the thugs left behind; kindly escort their guests out; don’t answer any questions; tell them the boss’ll contact them when it suits him. And he shot off a text to their driver, making sure the car would be ready and waiting downstairs.
The Joker scorned the elevator, unwilling to pause even that long. Jonny’s hand unclipped the pistol in his holster as they started down the stairs.
Something was really wrong.
When the clown spoke again and Frost learned who was on the other end of the line, adrenaline shot through his veins - swifter and harder than any drug.
“Sh, sh, shh , cupcake,” Joker crooned, his voice deadly calm. “Listen to me, very carefully. Go home, and stay there.”
Anything you had to say, anything you were involved in that could set the Joker off like this, was a whole different level of Bad.
They ran down the last couple steps as the boss tacked on, “And don’t call the cops.”
* * * * *
The phone call was a welcome distraction in the middle of his third monotonous meeting for the day, this one regarding liabilities. Or something. When his phone vibrated against his chest, Bruce jumped at the chance to make his excuses and step out of the conference room.
“Impeccable timing, Alfred,” he said by way of greeting.
“We’ve got a problem, Master Wayne,” came the clipped reply, and Bruce was instantly on edge.
“What happened?” He was already moving towards the elevators, tugging off his tie.
“It’s Y/N.”
* * * * *
The SUV was waiting for them when they burst out the front doors of one of Mister J’s business towers downtown, and the clown practically flung himself through the passenger door. Frost had just enough time to haul his ass into the back seat before the Joker snapped a familiar address at the driver, and they peeled away from the curb onto Gotham’s streets.
As Jonny was sending out the call to Mister J’s crew, the boss himself glowered out the window as he listened to you speak. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then let it out.
“Y/N,” he said, silver teeth flashing. “D’ya trust me?”
Your reply was quick; the clown hummed in approval.
“Good girl. Now go home and leave this to me.”
Before he could start making plans, Jonny needed to know more about what the hell was going on. He waited for the Joker to hang up before he asked.
“What’s the situation, boss?”
Scarlet lips twisted with rage.
“ Somebody just took my kid.”
* * * * *
The baby’s gone… Someone took our baby…
The words kept rattling around in his head. The overwhelming panic, the terror in your voice had fury blazing through his chest and skittering along his nerves. It grated and pulled and tensed in him until he unleashed - slamming a fist full-force sideways into the paneling of the car door.
Rolling his head, J took a deep breath and pulled the fragments of his rational mind together. The anger was good; he’d save it for later. For now though, he needed to think .
You’d said that the preschool had called to confirm that Wayne’s butler was picking up JJ that day - which apparently , he was supposed to. So you gave them the okay.
(Somewhere in the back of his brain, a wriggling memory said that you’d told him about this, but he was too preoccupied with the business deal he was planning to really give it much consideration. Besides, it wasn’t exactly unusual ; you were still close with dear Brucey , after all).
The clown bared his teeth.
But you got a call from that very same butler five minutes later saying that he was running late . Which meant that whoever had picked up his son was not Alfred Motherfucking Pennyworth.
But they knew his name. Knew he was supposed to be picking up the kid that day. Had access to a fake ID and a Wayne-worthy vehicle. Had probably set up some kind of diversion to keep the real butler out of the way.
This wasn’t a half-assed job pulled by some fucked-up junkie on a whim.
Someone had just declared war.
Cool, calm, refreshing clarity sluiced through the storm in J’s head.
War, war, war … War was familiar. War was easy .
The Joker ruled Gotham. The mayor kissed his ring. The police wouldn’t touch him. All three of its mob families paid his taxes . He held the night’s most feared vigilante in the palm of his hand. The whole damn city cowered at the mere mention of his name - for a reason .
Someone was about to find out why.
* * * * *
You pulled into the preschool’s parking lot just as two familiar Escalades screeched to halt out front. Their doors swung wide, unleashing a pack of goons who immediately took up positions: two at the doors, one on the sidewalk, and the rest leading the way inside.
The Joker’s tall figure cut towards the building, and you raced after him.
Jonny saw you coming, alerting his boss. You were close enough to hear J’s growl as he rolled his head and swung towards you.
“I told you to go home , cupcake,” he started, fists flexing.
“And I heard you,” was your reply. He hiked a brow at the sharpness of your tone. “I’m here to keep you from hurting her.”
As you jerked your head towards the school, J scowled.
“ She let a stranger walk away with our kid,” he said slowly, voice dripping acid.
“She did everything she was supposed to do,” you retorted. “She checked his ID, she called me to confirm. She’s not at fault here.” You took a deep breath, hating the way it shook in your chest. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing, J.”
The clown worked his jaw, and your eyes burned.
You didn’t want to argue with him, didn’t want to be an obstacle. Nobody else could find your baby boy - you knew that in your bones. You also knew that he would tear apart any one and any thing that got in his way. It’s why you trusted him to find JJ, why you knew no one would get your child back into your arms faster.
But the poor girl inside that building was in his path, and she was innocent.
Before he could pull together a reply that might convince you to back off, you tore your eyes from his and started marching across the grass to the front doors.
This was a thing you could do.
Your kid had been taken, and you were powerless to do anything other than pass the hunt over to the people who could actually succeed. But this, keeping an innocent person from becoming collateral damage - you can do. You have to do.
Joker snarled and stalked after you.
The thugs had already grabbed JJ’s preschool teacher. Her confusion turned to terror when she saw the clown behind you.
“What’s going on? Y/N? Mr. J? Did something-”
“Emma, it’s alright,” you soothed. To the men holding her arms, you said, “Let her go.”
They glanced at their boss for confirmation. Beside you, the clown huffed, rolling his eyes, and waved a hand. They released her.
“The man who picked up JJ wasn’t Alfred,” you told her. Your heart shuddered as you spoke, but you pushed the panic away. Later. “You need to tell us everything you know. Answer all his questions. Any detail can help.”
Emma’s eyes bulged as the reality of the situation sunk in. The child she was responsible for had been kidnapped from her care. That child belonged to the Joker. If he didn’t believe her, if he didn’t think she was helpful enough, her life was forfeit.
You could see the panic start to take root in the young woman, but before you could attempt to keep her grounded, J stepped forward. He tipped his head back, regarding the teacher with a lifted lip.
“I suppose something as helpful as… a license plate number would be too much to hope for,” he mused. “Basics first, then.”
He swiped a hand over his hair and looked off into the distance, pulling his questions together. Then-
“Have you ever seen him before?”
“N-no,” Emma shook her head. Swallowed.
“What kind of car did he drive?”
“I didn’t see- I-” She started shaking her head again, then cut herself off.
“He didn’t drive,” Emma said, and the panic receded as her memories gained momentum. “Or if he did, he parked somewhere else. They walked away from the school.”
“Which direction?” Joker demanded.
“L-left. They went left outside the parking lot.”
Frost silently jerked his head, and two of J’s men took off outside.
“Emma,” you said gently, “JJ is supposed to ask anyone who picks him up for a codeword, so he knows it’s safe to go with them. We practice it every day. Did he ask?”
The woman nodded, meeting your eyes. Hers flooded with tears.
“He asked, like he was supposed to. Alfred - that man said it was ‘Purple.’” A sob hiccupped its way from her chest. “He knew the codeword… That’s why I thought… Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry…”
Before you could comfort her - or more likely, give in to your own tears - Jonny interrupted.
“Boss, PD dispatch just put out the 207. ETA’s eight minutes.”
The clown froze, then snarled, fist jerking up as though to hit something. In a herculean effort of self-control, J took a deep breath, rolled his head, and turned to you, hands flexing.
“I suppose dear Brucey just called the police,” he hummed humorlessly. “He does such a wonderful job of... complicating things.”
Cool hands lifted to grip your throat, thumbs gently tipping your head back to meet those stormy blue eyes.
“I need your help with somethin’, cupcake,” he crooned. “Call Mr. Wayne and ask him to make a public appeal on your behalf. Get the story on every news channel and radio station along the east coast.”
Behind you, Jonny started making calls.
“How will that help?” you asked. J flashed an irreverent grin.
“The media is good for two things, sweet peach. First,” he freed one hand to lift a finger. “They’ll keep Gotham’s Finest distracted and out of my way. Second,” he lifted another finger, tipping his head back. “All the attention will send our… friends underground to hide.”
“Six minutes, boss,” Frost urged.
“Sending them underground is good,” you pressed, trying to see the plan.
That chilling, drawn-out cackle bounced around you, raising goosebumps.
“ Very good,” the Joker replied. He gripped your chin in one hand and looked you dead in the eyes. All humor drained from his expression.
“I own the underground,” he intoned. “Every safe house, every bunker, every bolt hole. There is nowhere they can hide where I won’t find them.” J pressed his pale forehead to yours. “And I will find them. That I can promise you.”
You took a breath. Then leaned up to steal a swift, hard kiss.
“I know you will.”
Sirens wailed in the distance; you were out of time. J squeezed your chin once more before leading Jonny out the doors. As they left, your clown barked an order to Grin, who hurried back to your side.
“We gotta go, Chuckles,” he urged, nodding back towards the parking lot. “Can’t be here when the cops land.”
Trusting J’s plan, you headed through the doors. Grin lingered long enough to give Emma some parting instructions before following you outside.
“Keys,” he grunted, and you tossed them over as he slid into the driver’s seat.
Grin eased out of the school’s driveway, and you rounded the corner moments before the first squad car peeled in.
As your bald bodyguard drove, you settled into your seat, hands shaking. The adrenaline was finally bleeding from your system, leaving room for the panic and tears to take over.
And finally with J on the trail, the teacher safe, and some sort of plan in action, you had no reason to reel it back. As the tears started to fall, you fought to keep all the worst thoughts from your head. But they were stubborn, persistent.
Someone took your baby, someone who knew what they were doing. And your breath picked up as thoughts about why bombarded you. Trafficking? Ransom? Revenge? Was he scared? Hurting? Alive ? Was he even still in the city? Every moment that passed took him further and further away from you-
Lungs seizing, your breaths started coming in gasps. Heaving inhalations that left no room to breathe out. Fingers tingling, face numb. Your vision tunneled… the sound of the car fading… the world falling away…
Your baby was gone.
You couldn’t breathe -
“Y/N? Y/N-”
A deep voice, familiar, safe . Hands on your face, turning your head, letting go. Warm brown eyes, furrowed with concern.
“Breathe with me, Y/N,” the voice said, and took an audible breath.
You fought to match it.
He let it out.
You tried , and hiccupped on another inhale.
“Again, deep breath…”
Over and over, that kind voice and those gentle eyes reminded you how to breathe, murmuring softly.
Slowly, you became aware that the car was no longer moving, your door was open, big hands held yours. The snow in your nerves faded away, sound came washing back. The fire in your chest eased, and Bruce Wayne squeezed your fingers.
“It’s alright,” he was saying, voice quiet as he knelt on the sidewalk. “Everything’s gonna be alright. We’ll find him, we’ll bring him back to you.”
“Bruce…”
There were sirens again, lights strobing red to blue. When the fog finally receded, you looked around. The building you just left was ahead, a police blockade set up out front. Grin was leaning against the hood of the car, glancing your way.
You were back at the preschool?
“I got here with the police,” Bruce said. “And you showed up a minute later. Smart girl for having your friend drive instead of risking it yourself.”
The confusion must’ve shown on your face, because Bruce sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was low.
“You went around the block. But according to the GCPD, you just arrived. You left your apartment when Alfred called and you both realized what happened. He called the police, and you came straight here. Understand?”
Right. Yes. Because they needed an explanation for why you weren’t the one to call in your son’s kidnapping, and a panic-stricken mother’s single minded determination to get to where her child was last seen was a story easily sold.
And you couldn’t very well tell the cops that your first and only phone call had been to the Joker.
You nodded, then remembered that J had a plan.
“Bruce, I need another favor from you. Can you take this to the media? Make it the biggest story possible?”
He blinked and ran hand through his dark hair.
“Y/N, I don’t think we should do that without consulting the police.”
“Please,” you pressed, squeezing the hand that still held yours. Bruce eyed you, jaw clenching when he realized-
“This is part of his plan, isn't it?” he grunted, shaking his head. “Y/N, if you follow his lead, people will get hurt , or worse-”
“They took my kid, Bruce,” you stated, voice hard as a cutting edge. “They took the Joker’s kid. Do you honestly think they’ll be gentle with him?”
That was a rabbit hole you could not afford to wander down, so you shook your head.
“J knows the scumbags of this city better than anyone else, with the possible exception of Batman. But I’m fairly certain I lost the right to ask him for help a long time ago.” You took a shaky breath. “So yes, I know what J will do. But I also know that he’s our best chance at bringing my baby back home safe.”
A strange look flashed over Bruce’s face as you spoke, but it was gone in a blink. His eyes looked… sad.
“ Please ,” you begged one last time.
Bruce sighed, dropping his head. Then-
“Alright. I’ll have Alfred call a press conference.” He stood up, brushing the dust off his knee, then offered a hand for you to take. As he helped you from the car, he said quietly, “Batman wouldn’t punish a son for his father’s crimes.”
Something twisted in your chest, and your throat swelled shut on any reply you might've made. So you just squeezed Bruce’s hand, waiting for your burning eyes to clear.
Eventually, as you both approached the police blockade, you found your voice.
“Tell him to be careful then,” you implored him. “He can’t interfere with whatever J’s doing. He… Joker will destroy anyone who gets in his way.”
A ghost passed through Bruce once more as he sighed.
“I know.”
* * * * *
“Boss, lookit this.”
The Joker rolled his head and turned to Frost, who held up a crumpled piece of paper he must’ve found by the body. Snatching it, the clown squinted at the chicken scratch until it made sense.
Codeword: Purple
His red mouth twisted into a sneer.
“Well, well, well ,” he hummed. “Looks like it was this… fool’s lucky day.”
Joker knelt and burned his stare into the dead, glassy eyes of the bodyguard who had been on duty watching the school that day.
“He went ahead and died before I could make it hurt .” Baring his teeth, J crunched the paper in his fist. “Tell me, Frosty. When you’re given a… sensitive piece of information - say, a codeword of sorts - would you write it down in plain English and keep it somewhere anyone could find it?”
“No, boss.”
The clown hummed, face an expressionless mask.
“Because that would be…?”
“Dumb, boss. And dangerous.”
“Do me a favor and make sure everyone I pay can follow that logic, would ya?” Rising to his feet, the Joker started back towards the SUV. Halfway there, he paused, then spun around, thoughtful.
“ First , have every single one of my guards pull their pockets inside out,” he mused, squinting. Then hummed and turned back around. He tossed over his shoulder, “Shoot anyone who has the word ‘Purple’ on ‘em.”
Jonny started immediately with the thugs in the alley as the clown got into the car. His enforcer followed a few minutes later, settling in the back seat.
“I assume , from the lack of additional bodies , that everyone else had at least one more brain cell than he did?” J drawled.
Jonny hummed an affirmative, looking at his phone. He spoke up as they reversed out of the alleyway.
“Got somethin’, boss.”
The Joker tipped his head, waiting.
“Dunno who, but someone put out this job.”
Rolling his eyes with his whole head, the clown sighed.
“We already know that, Jonny. My faith in your superior intelligence is starting to fade.”
“There’s more. The job is for Bruce Wayne’s kid.”
Joker froze. Squinted. Bared his teeth.
“ Wayne ’s kid?”
He swiped a hand over his emerald green hair, and then he laughed - for a long, long time.
“Oh,” he cooed eventually, fists working. “Someone’s havin’ a real bad day.”