Seventeen Years Later

                                    

                                          
-From your POV-
                          
So it turned out J was naturally a brunette; over the months, he had stopped keeping up with his clown appearances meaning the makeup and the grills and the green hair were gone and he was actually quite normal and handsome. Not that he wasn't handsome before, but now he was unrecognizable. His brunette hair grew out and he kept it well groomed. He still had tattoos across his arms and chest and torso, but luckily, he hadn't done anything stupid like get a face tattoo. I also had to get used to him not painting himself white with bright ass red lips. It wasn't until he changed face that I had really realized he had no eyebrows. Once they started growing back in, I couldn't stop staring at them. They just seemed so foreign. But after three weeks when they were finally done growing in, I got used to them. 
                          
When the baby came, it was March and it was a long nine months. I had come to the conclusion that half of the sappy shit that I was on the last time I had to break J out of Arkham was from the pregnancy. I remember when we came back from our black market wedding in the Bahamas (which was lovely, by the way), we were having dinner at the ranch house with Scott and a few of the other goons who helped us move in and J said "if she wasn't pregnant before the island, she most definitely was when we left" and I nearly stabbed him with a fork. 
                          
But I have to give him a lot of credit; he was a hell of a husband and a dad. Which brings us to the next topic: the baby actually ended up being the babies. Twins, a boy and a girl. During the checkups and ultrasounds, the doctor had told us there was a girl but he failed to mention that there was also a boy in there. It was actually quite endearing; J would never admit it but he quickly fell in love with the idea of having a daughter. I once found a list of names he had came up with on his own and I don't think I ever got so close to crying at something being cute. We decided on Jacqueline ( turn's out J's legal name was Jack Napier, so Jacqueline was gonna be shortened to Jackie) and the boy Vincent. I was thinking about Victor, after my father, but it was too on the nose so I went with Vincent that can be shortened to Vinnie. So Vinnie and Jackie, born on March 13th. The irony of it all? The day they were born was a Friday. They were literally born on Friday the 13th.
                          
J quickly  became fully enveloped with being a dad; he upped the personal security of the Ranch house and taught those kids EVERYTHING they ever asked to learn. Around 6 months postpartum, my hormone levels returned to normal and most of the sappy and emotional thoughts I had resided and I would sometimes feel like flashes or episodes where thoughts from before I was pregnant would come in. Like- flashbacks, or thoughts about throwing knives or shooting off guns. I won't lie, I missed it sometimes. The thrill when you could feel your head literally pounding with adrenaline as the wheels of the Bat-mobile sped up behind you or the thrill of hitting bullseye with throwing knives or poison darts.
                          
I was laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling that was lit up by moonlight. I turned my head to the side and looked at J, who was clearly half asleep. "J?" I said to him. He let out a weird groan.
                          
"Hmm?"
                          
"Do you ever miss it?" I ask him. He rolls onto his side to face me, but his eyes are still closed.
                          
"Miss what? The mansion? Raising kids instead of teenagers?"
                          
"The business." I say firmly, causing his eyes to peel open. "Do you ever miss toying with the Bat, or the extravagant nights at the club?"I ask him. He takes in a breath and thinks for a minute before answering.
                          
"Mmm. I guess so, doll. But I love everything we created more than I ever loved the business." he says. I smile at his response.
                          
"Do you ever plan on telling the kids?" his eyebrows furrow.
                          
"Why would we? Hell, why should we?" he asks. I shrug.
                          
"I dunno, my dad told me when I turned 17 and began training me in self defense in case his business came back to bite him in the ass." I explain. He thinks for a minute.
                          
"Do you think we should?" I shrug.
                          
"Well, yeah. Actually, when they turn 17 they should know."
                          
"Everything?" he asks me. My eyes widen and I shake my head.
                          
"Noooo. Uh uh, not a chance in hell. But, they can know the... basic, premises, perhaps. Just, that we did illegal business that people could potentially be upset about and train them to defend themselves. We don't have to tell them like the killing part but the ripping off mobsters and Bat-chases? Sure." I suggest to him. He thinks for a minute and then lets out a long yawn.
                          
"Well, okay. If you think it's best for them and their safety then let's do it." he tells me. I smile at his response, knowing the twins are a week away from turning 17. "Now, any other inquiries before I go to sleep?" he asks. I giggle and roll onto my back and close my eyes.
                          
"Nothing, I love you."
                          
"I love you too, doll face."