Motley
Kiddo
J.
He’s yours. I don’t want him. He’s just a little over five years old. Don’t try to find me, you won’t be able to. Keep him or not, I’m not taking him back. Haven’t given him a name. Treat him nicely, for old times sake?
Harley
Joker snarls and crushes the note in his fist. “What the fuck is this?”
All his men flinch back. “Uh...your kid, boss.”
“I know, ha, that. It’s pretty fuckin’ OBVIOUS.” It’s true. The boy looks too much like him to be mistaken for anyone else’s. His watchful green eyes, his constant smirk, his nose, even the coiled up, tense way he stands, all match with the boy’s.
The kid is quiet, staring at him, round cheeks dirty and tear-stained. He looks lost and scared. What’s left of Joker’s soul softens as he looks at the kid. “Hey. You. Come here, kid.” The boy steps obediently closer.
Joker pulls out a knife and everyone watching holds their breath. They don’t want to see the kid die. Most of them, anyway. The Joker holds the knife out to the kid, hilt first. “Take this.” The kid shows no fear as he takes the knife, looking at his reflection in the blade.
“You like knives, kid?”
The boy looks up at Joker, face innocent and trusting, untouched by Gotham’s filth. He smiles nervously. “Yes. Leen doesn’t.” He frowns. “Leen said she come back. Where’s Leen?”
The Joker knows not to tell the kid his mother isn’t coming back. He doesn’t want a breakdown. “I dunno, kiddo.”
Joker leans closer to the kid, folding his hands properly around the knife. “You keep this, okay?” He shows the boy how to open and close the blade, then tucks it in his pocket. The boy’s clothes are cheap and dirty. “I guess you’ll, ha, have to stay.” He turns to his men. “Get him some new clothes. Food. Whatever else a kid needs.”
Joker turns to leave, but one brave henchman stops him. “Uh....uh...boss. You gonna give him a name?”
Joker shrugs, pats the kid on the head. “Sure. Name him Motley.”
The men look at each other, but nod. “Yes, boss.” Motley smiles and waves as Joker leaves.
Ernie has become the kid’s unofficial caretaker, mostly because the other guys have edged away from Motley. They’re criminals, they don’t want to be dragged into babysitting. Ernie kneels to look the kid in the eyes. “Hi. My name is Ernie.”
Motley nods, thumb in his mouth. Harley Quinn’s blanket is still wrapped around his shoulders. The blonde hair, big eyes, and long lashes must come from her. The bruises, too, Ernie thinks angrily. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”
“Kay,” Motley says quietly.
“Your dad even gave you a name. Motley. Your name is Motley.”
“Dad? That was my dad?” the kid asks with a hint of fear. Ernie doesn’t blame him.
“Yeah, Motley. That’s your dad.”
Motley leans closer and whispers, “Dad is a very scary man.”
The kid is pretty well spoken for a five year old who’s probably never been to school, Ernie thinks. “I know. I wouldn’t call him Dad, though. Might make him angry.” Motley nods, pulling the blanket farther around himself.
Ernie is about to bring him to the kitchen, but Joker pops out of nowhere. Motley jumps at the sight of his father’s ruined face. “Hey, ha!, kiddo. C’mere.” Ernie hands Motley over to Joker, noting how scarred his hands are.
“S-sorry, boss. Didn’t know you wanted him.”
He winces at his choice of words when the Joker’s eyes harden. “I don’t. But now that, hoo!, poor little Harley has left him to me, I’m gonna raise this, haha, kid right.” He pinches the boy’s cheek and grins evilly. “I’m gonna raise you just like my, haha, daddy raised me.”
Joker looks over his shoulder as he leads Motley away. “Oh, and, haha, try to find Harley. We need to....talk.” Ernie shudders and walks off, leaving Motley with Joker.
He’s yours. I don’t want him. He’s just a little over five years old. Don’t try to find me, you won’t be able to. Keep him or not, I’m not taking him back. Haven’t given him a name. Treat him nicely, for old times sake?
Harley
Joker snarls and crushes the note in his fist. “What the fuck is this?”
All his men flinch back. “Uh...your kid, boss.”
“I know, ha, that. It’s pretty fuckin’ OBVIOUS.” It’s true. The boy looks too much like him to be mistaken for anyone else’s. His watchful green eyes, his constant smirk, his nose, even the coiled up, tense way he stands, all match with the boy’s.
The kid is quiet, staring at him, round cheeks dirty and tear-stained. He looks lost and scared. What’s left of Joker’s soul softens as he looks at the kid. “Hey. You. Come here, kid.” The boy steps obediently closer.
Joker pulls out a knife and everyone watching holds their breath. They don’t want to see the kid die. Most of them, anyway. The Joker holds the knife out to the kid, hilt first. “Take this.” The kid shows no fear as he takes the knife, looking at his reflection in the blade.
“You like knives, kid?”
The boy looks up at Joker, face innocent and trusting, untouched by Gotham’s filth. He smiles nervously. “Yes. Leen doesn’t.” He frowns. “Leen said she come back. Where’s Leen?”
The Joker knows not to tell the kid his mother isn’t coming back. He doesn’t want a breakdown. “I dunno, kiddo.”
Joker leans closer to the kid, folding his hands properly around the knife. “You keep this, okay?” He shows the boy how to open and close the blade, then tucks it in his pocket. The boy’s clothes are cheap and dirty. “I guess you’ll, ha, have to stay.” He turns to his men. “Get him some new clothes. Food. Whatever else a kid needs.”
Joker turns to leave, but one brave henchman stops him. “Uh....uh...boss. You gonna give him a name?”
Joker shrugs, pats the kid on the head. “Sure. Name him Motley.”
The men look at each other, but nod. “Yes, boss.” Motley smiles and waves as Joker leaves.
Ernie has become the kid’s unofficial caretaker, mostly because the other guys have edged away from Motley. They’re criminals, they don’t want to be dragged into babysitting. Ernie kneels to look the kid in the eyes. “Hi. My name is Ernie.”
Motley nods, thumb in his mouth. Harley Quinn’s blanket is still wrapped around his shoulders. The blonde hair, big eyes, and long lashes must come from her. The bruises, too, Ernie thinks angrily. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”
“Kay,” Motley says quietly.
“Your dad even gave you a name. Motley. Your name is Motley.”
“Dad? That was my dad?” the kid asks with a hint of fear. Ernie doesn’t blame him.
“Yeah, Motley. That’s your dad.”
Motley leans closer and whispers, “Dad is a very scary man.”
The kid is pretty well spoken for a five year old who’s probably never been to school, Ernie thinks. “I know. I wouldn’t call him Dad, though. Might make him angry.” Motley nods, pulling the blanket farther around himself.
Ernie is about to bring him to the kitchen, but Joker pops out of nowhere. Motley jumps at the sight of his father’s ruined face. “Hey, ha!, kiddo. C’mere.” Ernie hands Motley over to Joker, noting how scarred his hands are.
“S-sorry, boss. Didn’t know you wanted him.”
He winces at his choice of words when the Joker’s eyes harden. “I don’t. But now that, hoo!, poor little Harley has left him to me, I’m gonna raise this, haha, kid right.” He pinches the boy’s cheek and grins evilly. “I’m gonna raise you just like my, haha, daddy raised me.”
Joker looks over his shoulder as he leads Motley away. “Oh, and, haha, try to find Harley. We need to....talk.” Ernie shudders and walks off, leaving Motley with Joker.