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I. Coffee

GOTHAM AIR ALWAYS tasted like misery. You couldn't walk a mile without feeling like you're sinking into the dirt. She couldn't fight the nagging voice in her mind saying this was where she belonged. The slums of Crime Alley were home to the worst of the worst. She lost track of all the murderers, traffickers, and drug addicts she'd met since living her.

    Maia White knew her way around the Alley. She knew what buildings to avoid, what people to never talk to, and who she shouldn't even breathe near. She slipped into an alley as a couple of home invaders marched past her.

    She continued her walk, avoiding piles of shit near a fire hydrant. Maia pinched her nose to a avoid smelling human feces. Her Converse were brand new (someone had donated them at GoodWill) and she really didn't want to get them ruined all ready.

Maia entered a coffee shop, waving to her boss. She went through the small employee only door and put on her apron. The name Maia rested on a small name tag, littered with little stickers she'd found. Brushing her blond bangs from her eyes, she pressed her lips together in a awkward smile. She tried to not linger on the faint scars near her lips that over exaggerated her smile.

    Costumers began to flood the small cafe, ordering their usuals and more. Maia was always good at collecting orders. Some costumers gave her looks of pity, wishing her a speedy recovery from her Joker attack. She always had to fight back a bitter laugh. How could she even explain that she had done this to herself?

   "Can I get a hot chocolate?" A pretty blonde with a purple hoodie asked. Maia stared at her for a minute. Hot chocolate? In heat of Gotham's now infamous heat wave? "And a unicorn cake pop?"

   "Do you want an iced chocolate instead? It's hot out." The blonde shook her head, handing Maia exact change. Maia pressed the blonde's order into the machine, snapping her fingers at a coworker as he worked on her order. "Thank you for eating at Cafè Gotham. Come again."

   The pretty blonde smiled at her before her eyes wandered to her lips. She winced as she looked at Maia's scars. "Did that hurt?" She motioned to Maia's smile scars.

   For a moment, Maia fought this really bad urge to laugh in her face. A little nagging voice in her mind telling Maia to tell this girl who she used to be. It clawed at her temple, leaping into her throat. Maia swallowed, pushing it back down. "A little. Just a regular day in Gotham. Y'know how it is." 

  "That hadda happen four years ago, right?" Before the second Robin died, if that was the blonde's theory. Maia really wanted this girl to leave her alone.  "The Joker's been dead for six months so it hadda before he died."

Maia tensed, feeling more and more naked as the girl spoke. The blonde was staring. The nagging in her mind was back. Maia could hear the maniacal giggle of her past, burning in her ears.

He's dead, she mentally chided. He's dead.

Maia clenched her fist around the unicorn cake pop in her hand. "Yeah." The blonde tilted her head. She looked athletic, judging from her muscles poking through her purple sleeves. "I'll get your hot chocolate now, one moment."

She turned the stove in the back of the kitchen, snapping at one of the cooks to hurry up. It was hot chocolate! How hard could it be to hurry it up?! Once the hot chocolate was done, Maia made sure to place it on the counter. She didn't want to talk to the pretty blonde girl anymore.

  "I'm Stephanie, by the way!" She extended a finger—less gloved hand toward Maia.

  Maia took her hand, lips pressed together. "I'm Maia." The pretty blonde, Stephanie, smiled at her. It was sunny when she smiled. It was like Stephanie radiated her own source of sunlight.

"Well, thanks for the food!" Stephanie turned away, walking our of the cafe. Maia looked up at the ceiling, letting out a huge groan.

Let it out. Let it out. Let it ou—

Maia flicked her forehead, fighting the nagging once more. She closed her eyes, taking another deep breath.

Maia wasn't going to give in. She was Maia, not fucking Joker Junior. She wasn't associated with the Joker either.

Because Maia put a bullet through his brain.

HER SHIFT WAS exhausting. Dozens of high school students swarmed in, pulling her every which way. Maia almost swung a whipped cream can at one of their heads when they tugged on her arm.

She turned the corner, walking toward the shelter. Gotham homeless shelters were dirty and smelled like dog shit. She pulled off her hood, earning looks from familiar faces. Maia pressed her lips together.

She went to her usual spot, a corner with a pole beside it. She tucked her sneakers into her backpack. The rest of her clothes and money was also inside. Maia looked up at the dingy shelter ceiling, feeling like garbage.

Yes, her mother was a free woman. Kind of. Maia was well aware of her mother's run with the Rogues of Gotham. Poison Ivy and all those other lovely folks were close associates of her mother. Maia could hypothetically live with her mother, but being reminded of that part of her life made her feel physically ill.

Maia couldn't look in the mirror without seeing her father's eyes, her mother's facial structure, and her father's maniacal smile. She'd seen it whenever she was Joker Junior. The laughing gass filling her lungs, overtaking her young brain. The white paint that caked her face. The red dripping from the scars on her body. It plagued her, every single moment she was awake. She couldn't escape her memories in sleep either. She was forever haunted.

  One of the tenants of the shelter walked over, kicking her a little. Instantly, Maia was sitting up. The nagging in her mind was practically begging for her to loose control. To just kill. To be her cruel alter ego she spent months burying.

  "The Gotham P.D is here for you. All Joker victims are getting interviewed." The man's bored tone only added to Maia's panic.

  Could she go to prison for killing the Joker?

  Maia took her shoes back out of her bag, tying her laces. She couldn't help the shaking in her hands. Did the Gotham P.D do DNA tests? Shit. If they did, Maia was screwed. Would they put her in Arkham?

  Maia wasn't crazy. She killed him in self defense. She did everyone a favor. Right? Right? Surely they couldn't convict her with no evidence? She wasn't even in any records. Maia didn't even exist.

  She stood up throwing her bag over her shoulder. The tenant walked beside her, leading her to the front of the shelter. Maia was met with Commissioner Gordon, arms crossed in front of his chest and a serious expression.

  The man didn't seem to know her name. But Commissioner had seen the Joker and Harley's faces a billion times over the years. Which also meant that he was definitely putting pieces together.

   "Come on, miss," he said, calmly opening the back of the police car for her. Maia fought down the nagging in the back of her mind. It was pawing at the nape of her check, swirling down to her finger tips. "Let's get back to headquarters and we can ask you a couple of questions. Would that be alright with you, Miss—"

   "White," Maia said quickly. It was her father's—no, the Joker's last name. But not many people knew the Joker's full name. Maia was never allowed to call him by his name. Only Papa. Papa or Joker.

  Maia preferred to call him a dick in her head anyway.

  Commissioner Gordon nodded. The drive to headquarters was full of awkward silence, the occasional cough, and Maia's dread—filled thoughts.

  She had to consent for a DNA testing right? Maia had followed the Joker back to their safe house when he escaped because of the Red Hood's efforts to put him down. Maia hadn't left a weapon because it was gun and the bullets couldn't be traced back to her.

  Or could it?

  To be fair, Maia's criminal knowledge was some—what limited. She couldn't careless about this stuff anyway.

  Gotham P.D's headquarters reeked of cigarettes and bribe money. She shifted in her spot. The lights burned her eyes. She felt hot, sweat building on her palms.

   They lead her to some closed off room, allowing her to keep her bag. Maia sat on the couch. This didn't look like a stereotypical interrogation room. It looked like a living room, with a nice lamp and coffee table. There was a large teddy bear. Maia tossed her bag to the side. She grabbed the teddy bear, placing it on her lap. She bounced it up and down, messing with the little bow on its neck.

  Toys were a rarity for her growing up. Unless you counted the occasional hammer and a  mouse the Joker gave her when she was bored. The goal of the game, or as her father called it, was to kill the mouse. It was a shitty game.

  It was warm in this room. Maia played with the bear some more. She knew this was a false sense of security, but Maia couldn't care less. She leaned her head on the arm of the couch, her legs on the other end.

  After a while, Commissioner Gordon came inside with another man. A detective, she realized. Someone trained to catch unnatural and suspicious behavior.

  Maia was fucking screwed.

  "This is Detective Malarkey, Miss White," Commissioner Gordon said with a gentle smile.  He leaned on his knees, facing Maia. "We're just going to ask some questions. You don't have to answer them if you don't want to."

  Detective Malarkey nodded before opening his notebook. "I'm going to start by asking your name."

  "Maia White." A raised eyebrow and the sound of pen scratching against paper.

  "How did you get your scars?" The smile scars that were a horrible accident? Maia felt naked again.

"Joker attack." Liar. "He cut my face. Tried to use laughing gas." I did it to myself under laughing gas. "I escaped." I stayed with him for another year. "Why're you asking me this? Isn't the Joker dead?" Do you know I killed him?

"Well, we thought the Res Hood killed the Joker," Detective Malarkey said, writing something down. "But, we think it was one of the Joker's victims because the Red Hood has personally told us he hasn't touched a hair on that clown's head."

Fuck.

"You seem to have a lot of scars from your attack." He motioned to the smile scars. "Did he attempt to force you to join his cause?"

Double fuck.

"No, I don't think so. I think I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time." Please stop asking me questions. "I barely got away." She squeezed the bear. Maia could feel the sharp knife digging its claws into her pale skin. She could hear the crazed giggles of her father in her ear.

Commissioner Gordon's expression softened some more. "I know a thing or two about Joker attacks. My family was tortured by him. My own daughter. The Joker's killer did us a great justice." He sat on the couch beside her, a smile on his face. This seemed very unprofessional. But the tenderness of his smile reminded Maia of the scattered memories of her mother. "But murder is murder. The Joker was a horrible man, but we do need to convict his killer. If you know anything, Miss White. Please contact us. Come in whenever."

Maia wanted to tell him, but they'd all think she was just crazy as her father. They'd lock her up, lose the key, and watch her father's blood drip out of her.

Maia swallowed, squeezing the bear. She nodded, putting it back on the couch. "I'll tell you if I find out anything." She opened the door, shutting it behind her.

She didn't calm down until she was blocks away from the station. Her heart hammered in her chest. She'd almost forgotten about her father's case with Barbara Gordon. The details were recounted to her during a dinner (chicken nuggets and fries that had most likely gone stale months ago). Maia remembered gagging the entire time her father recounted the story.

Maia looked up at the sky, watching the guardian angels of Gotham leaping from roof top to roof top. If only they had been there for her when she needed them.

🦇 — teehee so maia white is my silly little interpretation of joker junior! if u don't know who joker junior is basically its a kid (typically tim drake) that harley and the joker kidnap and like torture into thinking they're his parents. but in my fic, their own daughter is joker junior.

ok timeline time. currently steph is batgirl. jason & brucie have their confrontation a year before this fic takes place. the joker is dead six months after and everyone in gotham is like 😧😧😧😧. the batfamily is all HAPPY because i want them happy and found family.

this timeline is also similar to that one nightwing comic run where alfred dies except i don't kill alfred but the bat family has a group chat because once again, domestic batfamily.

now for a spark notes summary:
stephanie: did the joker attack u
underpaid, stressed, & tired maia: what do u think
&
commissioner gordon: did u kill the joker
maia, sweating bullets: no!

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