Chapter 1

Okay everyone, my first fanfiction, ever. I got the inspiration one day simply walking down the street in the rain, thinking of what the Joker's life might have been like before he became, well, the Joker. I used his second scar-explaining story and ran with it. I know that the Joker's second story isn't really what happened, but it's my favorite story of his scars. I'm simply expanding. Enjoy!

The Legal Stuff: I don't own the Joker or Gotham city. I do own Meredith's character.

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"Piss off." The acne-speckled adolescent spat at him, slouching in the chair and glaring with cold, steely eyes that seemed to look through him.

"You know, Lewis, the only thing keeping you from actually making a decent grade is your own stubbornness!" Ethan tried to reason with him. Silence. He could tell he wasn't getting through, not today. Not any day. But he had to keep trying. It was sort of...expected of him. "If you just did the homework...I mean, are you not understanding what I'm assigning? You know I'm always here an hour after school. I can help you with--"

"I don't need any help! When am I ever going to use this crap in real life, anyway? You can take your stupid chemistry and shove it!" Lewis jumped up from the chair and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The blinds on the door gently tapped against the glass. Ethan's office was completely silent, save for the ticking of the clock on his desk.

"I...I give up." he sighed, shaking his head, weary. He looked to his left, at the wall where his Bachelor of Science degree hung, crisp and white in its pristine frame. Four years of college, and this was the thanks he gets? He rose from the desk. Grabbing his briefcase and suit jacket, he stepped out the door and walked down the high school's old hallway with the peeling white-and-yellow paint. As he neared his car, he started reflecting on his life's course up to this point. This was nothing like he'd expected. When he started college seven years ago at Kenington State University, he'd had a plan. He was going to roll up his sleeves, get his hands dirty, and make a difference in the lives of every person he came in contact with. He'd had such a fire, a passion for the high schoolers he knew he'd teach one day.

So what happened? He knew. Oh, he knew better than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He'd simply been introduced to the horror known as real life. Where not everything goes according to plan. Where pain is real and disappointment awaits you at every corner. Where people are fake and apathy abounds. As if that weren't punishment enough for believing he could change things--he'd fallen for The Big One. The ever-elusive American Dream. Having everything he wanted--a beautiful wife, a nice car, a cute little house complete with picket fence--and, of course, the money to pay for it all. He'd walked into the trap and now the walls were closing in on him. Since he was the only one working, he had no way out...no way of paying for what they had, much less for what they wanted.

Ethan pulled into the driveway and looked at the grass that needed mowing yet again. I thought Meredith said she'd do it today, he thought to himself. I guess I'll have to do it Saturday morning. It didn't matter, anyway. He couldn't look her in her pool blue eyes and be truly angry at her for long. It just made him so...damned depressed. He tried turning the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. That could only mean one thing...

Stepping into the kitchen, Ethan put his keys down on the scratched wooden table, next to a stack of envelopes. The bills were there, but Meredith wasn't. Suprise, suprise. A yellow sticky note was placed on the top of the stack:

Hey honey, gone to Drew's. Be back later. Love, Meredith

Ah, Drew's. He knew the place well. Not that he'd ever been there, but it's where Meredith spent her time. And his money. The local bar where she liked to hang out and play poker nearly every night with friends he'd never met. She always seemed to leave with a pocket full of cash but never failed to come home empty-handed. He'd wanted so many times to confront her about her problem, to put his foot down about the fact that she was squandering money they obviously didn't have. He just...couldn't. He simply kept it all inside, tight-lipped and downcast.

He warmed up leftovers and sat down, staring at the pile of bills the mailman had brought that day. Taking a deep breath, he opened the first: his credit card bill. His eyes scanned down to the line that read, Total Due. Suddenly, he no longer had an appetite. He closed his eyes, dizzy. Did Meredith have no sense of money whatsoever? He knew the answer already. She simply didn't care. She knew that whatever she spent on the card would be footed by him, no questions asked. He always did it without a word. So he couldn't really blame anyone but himself for the monstrous figure that stared up at him from the paper. He loved her too much. He loved to see her smile, even if it cost him dearly.

He stood, scraped his plate into the trash, and refolded the bill. He shuffled down the cramped hall to the bedroom, stepping over the plastic pan that caught water from the ceiling when it rained. They couldn't afford to have it repaired, not now. Not when there were more urgent obligations before him...like credit card bills he knew he couldn't pay. Stepping into the bathroom, Ethan turned on the shower and looked at his face in the wide mirror over the sink.

He undressed, staring at the bags under his eyes. So tired...but of what? Of being pushed around. Of being stepped on. Of being used...

But who could he tell? Who cared, anyway? He could tell Meredith, but he'd heard her answer before: "It will all work out, Ethan. Just let it go...and smile every once in a while! Your pretty face would be so much prettier with a smile." And that's all she'd say. He studied his mouth. Who am I kidding? he thought. This face wasn't made for a smile. I've got too much to worry about to just stick a smile on and expect everything to be okay. It's gonna take a lot to change this face.