A/N: I got this idea from absolutely nowhere. It's the product of a night of insomnia and no access to the third chapter of "Ascension," which is on the other computer. There's a vague hint of Joker/Harley in here, but it's not important, as she's only mentioned at the very end.

Now, why would I write his history this way? Because I think it's important to remember that horrible pasts do not always equal villains. Jack didn't have a fairytale childhood (in this), but that doesn't mean he was an abused kid. Remember when he said that all you need is a little 'push?' Well, this was his. Of course, this is all from my own mind.

(To give a little more background for my thinking, the Joker is a master of psychological warfare. When he says, "I hate my father," he doesn't necessarily have to be telling the truth. He knows how to get to people in an incredibly intimate way, and part of the brilliance is that he can make you hate him and sympathize with him in the same breath. It's genius.

Disclaimer: is right here. I don't own Jack Napier, the Joker, or Harley Quinn; I do, however, own James, Gretchen, Jill, and Dave. I don't own Willy Wonka, either, which has almost nothing to do with this story at all, but he has a purple coat like the Joker's.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?"

When four-year-old Jack Napier left the cemetery, clinging tightly to his father's hand, he didn't really understand. Mommy hadn't done anything wrong; she'd only said 'no' to those strangers, but he'd been taught that was a good thing.

The man in the uniform had said she was killed by a gun. Jack had seen guns before; bad guys carried them in movies. He concluded that Mommy had been killed by a bad guy who was probably stupid, since he didn't know what 'no' meant.

Now, she slept forever beneath a stone, which pronounced her 'beloved wife and mother.' He noticed there were lots of beloved wives and mothers resting in the ground, and he hoped that she met some of them, because Mommy had always liked talking with her friends and now she couldn't.

"Daddy?"

The tall man beside him squeezed his hand briefly and looked down. "What is it, son?"

"Do you think all the moms in there will take care of Mommy?"

"I…" Jack thought he saw tears in his father's eyes, but dads were too old to cry. "Yeah…I think they'll take good care of her."

"I bet they'll invite her to their birthdays and everything," he said confidently. "Everyone loves Mommy."

His father didn't say anything, but the pressure on his hand was comforting and Jack felt a little better knowing Mommy wasn't alone.

"My father…"

"Jack? I'd like to introduce you to a good friend of mine."

Jack looked up from his homework – Miss Jensen was evil when it came to math homework, but at least he was good at it – and saw his father with his arm around a very pretty brunette with blue-green eyes and a tired smile.

"My name's Gretchen," the woman said, holding out her hand for him to shake. "And you're Jack."

"Yeah," he said, smiling up at her and taking her hand.

"You've got such a lovely smile."

Her kind words made him flush slightly. "Thank you…"

"You're very welcome, young man," she replied, ruffling his hair.

"Was a drinker…and a fiend."

"This is my daughter Jill," Gretchen said, pushing forward a tiny brunette girl.

"Hello, Jill," he said, smiling pleasantly at her.

"Lo," she murmured, hugging her torso with her arms.

Gretchen watched her daughter for a moment before clearing her throat. "Jack, I need to speak to your father about a few things. Would you mind sitting with Jill for a while?"

"All right," he said. After Gretchen had left the room, he sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. Jill sat quietly on the cushion and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

He was a bit surprised. "How old are you?"

She held up five fingers shyly.

"Five, huh? I'm seven, but I'll be eight in two weeks."

She didn't reply. He sighed and tried to stand, but he felt her hand catch his shirt. He turned. "What is it, Jill?"

She took her thumb out of her mouth and whispered, "Is your Daddy a good Daddy?"

He grinned and sat back down. "Of course he is. He's the best Daddy there is. Why? Is yours a good one too?"

She shook her head sadly and leaned on his arm. "He's locked up with the other bad guys. Mommy says he's a fiend."

"I don't know that word," he said confusedly.

"Me either, but it probably means smelly, because he always smelled like the yucky stuff in bottles before they took him away. He doesn't hurt Mommy now."

"That's…good," he said. He didn't know what to say, but he felt like he should say something.

"Wouldn't it be neat if your mom and my dad got married? Then we could both have a good Daddy."

Jill nodded fervently, and for the first time, smiled. It was very faint, but it was there.

"I had a wife once…"

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jack watched happily as his father lifted Gretchen's veil and pressed their lips together. Kisses were boring, but this meant that he had a sister and Jill had a dad. He glanced at the tiny girl next to him, and she gave him a very small smile in return.

"You have a good Daddy now," he whispered, reaching over and squeezing her hand.

"And a good brother," she whispered back.

"Who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks…"

On his tenth birthday party, Jack's father came home with a limp and a bloody jacket. Jack huddled in the bathroom door with his sister, while his stepmother tried to help his father up off the floor.

"Darling? Darling, look at me," Gretchen said pleadingly.

Jack's father didn't move.

"Look at me," she cried.

His head rolled, as if he had no strength in his neck, and Jack's gasp was mirrored by both Gretchen and Jill. His face was bloody and bruised; his lip was split and his eyes were unfocused.

"James, what happened?"

"Some…some…ghosts from…the past," he rasped haltingly. His breath was shallow and speaking sounded painful.

"Your past? Or hers?"

He coughed. "I…chose to…marry her…"

Gretchen sighed and kneeled by his father and took his hand tenderly. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, "Jack? Please take Jill into the kitchen. I give you permission to use the microwave; just make something to eat for yourself and your sister, okay?"

He nodded and took Jill's hand. "Okay."

As they entered the kitchen, Jill asked quietly, "Who's 'her?'"

He sighed. "My mom wasn't as cool as yours; I just didn't know it until a little while ago."

She gave him a tentative smile. "Well, my dad isn't as cool as yours, so I guess we're the same."

He couldn't help but smile. "I think that's probably true. Want me to make us some quesadillas?"

"Can you make the smiley-face ones?"

"Those are pancakes, silly," he teased. Although his birthday plans had been ruined, he didn't feel too bad; his dad was still alive, and Gretchen would surely take them to the restaurant tomorrow instead.

"Gets the kitchen knife…"

An eleven-year-old Jack watched his father slide the big knife out of the rack and adjust his grip on the handle a few times. The atmosphere in the house was frightening; it was stifling.

"Gretch, I need you to take the kids out the back and get away."

"What? James, are you crazy? You'll…"

"I know, Gretchen. I know. I know how this is going to end. Please…just go…"

"I…"

"I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want my kids to get hurt. Hurry!"

"James, come with us!"

He didn't understand what was going on, but he knew enough to know what to do; after his father had been attacked, they'd gone over their jobs in the family in case of emergency. Jack took Jill's hand and pulled her down the hall until they reached his room. "Remember when we pretended we were going to run away and join the circus?"

She nodded.

"Well, we need those clothes and stuff right now. Go get your circus bag out of your closet, okay? Meet me right here."

She ran into her room, and he dropped onto his knees to get his own bag from under the bed. As soon as Jill exited her room, he took her hand again and hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. They met their sobbing mother in the living room.

"Come on," she said, trying for a smile. "We're leaving. Daddy's going to catch up, okay?"

Jack nodded and followed Gretchen out the back door, despite knowing he'd never see his father again.

"Tells me I ought to smile more…"

"Cheer up, Charlie," Gretchen sang prettily, setting a plate of spaghetti in front of him. After watching 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' for the first time, it had quickly become his favorite movie; and she liked to sing the songs when he was frowning.

He forced a smile. "Thanks for dinner, Gretch."

"You're welcome," she replied, ruffling his hair and setting her own plate down on the table. After a few moment of silent chewing, she said, "I have a favor to ask."

"Hmm?"

"I'm a little worried about Jill. I got a call from the school yesterday; they said she's always skiving off classes and her grades are very poor. It's her first year in middle school, and you know she gives in easily to pressure…can you talk to her? It seems like she'll only tell her secrets to you."

He shrugged, and sighed. "She doesn't really tell me anything either, but I'll talk to her anyway."

"Hey, Jack. Put a smile on that face! If you keep frowning, pretty soon it will stick that way," she teased.

"Won't it stick that way if I smile all the time?"

She wrinkled her nose at his challenge. "Maybe. But your smile is too nice to lose. No one likes a frowny-face."

"I smile!"

"You ought to smile more," she said, and this time she was being completely serious. "When you're happy, the whole house feels happy."

"Tells me I worry too much…"

"Jack, I'm fine," Jill said, smacking him on the arm. "Mom's just being a nutcase."

"She said you cut classes," he explained, shrugging. "I told her I'd talk to you. Now I have."

She giggled. "I do cut classes, but it's only because my history teacher is disgusting. I mean…his voice is all scratchy and he looks at me funny."

Alarmed, he asked, "What do you mean by funny?"

"I don't know what it means. He just looks at me differently than the other kids."

He wasn't stupid; Jill was a very attractive girl, and an innocence surrounding her that would make certain men crazy. He narrowed his eyes. "Be careful around him, okay?"

"Why do you think I cut those classes, stupid?"

He shrugged. "Why don't you just report him?"

"Because I like cutting class. Following rules is kind of…boring."

"Jill, I…"

"You worry too much. I'm thirteen, not two. I'm fine," she repeated gently. "And I'm having fun. Can you say that? Huh?"

He couldn't, and he thought that perhaps Jill was right – following rules was boring.

"Smile again…"

No one understood why Jack Napier had graduated top of his class, academically. He was the boy who blew up the chemistry lab; who traded his plain winter jacket for a long, thin purple coat; who skipped class as much as he could get away with; and who had a tendency to disrupt his teachers with loud laughter at the strangest times.

Despite his unruliness, he was well-liked; and when graduation came, several people were sad to say goodbye. Several of his teachers commented on his charm and magnetism; and when he showed up in an ugly green suit no one was terribly surprised.

Gretchen had long given up on keeping her children in line; Jill followed Jack wherever he went, and Jack wasn't doing anything terribly wrong. They were both happy, and their smiling faces brightened up the house; that was all she could ask for.

"Beautiful, like you…"

The first time Jill came home with a black eye, Jack didn't think too much of it. She'd been running around with some girls who were loose with their fists and insults, and Jill wasn't upset.

The second time, Jill had a split lip, too, and he wondered why.

The eighth time, he looked out the window and watched a tall, muscular man walk away, and he confronted her.

"Jill," he said, "I'm not going to lecture you about boys or anything like that, because you're my sister and I think you know what you're doing. Besides, you look happy, and Gretch likes us to be happy. But don't let people hit you, okay?"

She snorted. "I got him back. He just doesn't know his own strength."

"Well, whatever floats your boat, then."

"I'm glad you're not stupid. Angela's older brother would probably try to kill Dave."

"His name's Dave?"

"Yeah. He says I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and he wants me to be his forever," she said with a dreamy sigh.

"One night, he goes off crazier than usual…"

"Jill," he breathed, and helped his sister inside. Jack thought she looked worse than anything he'd ever seen; she was beaten, but more than that, she was broken. Dave had apparently been angry, and she'd been his outlet.

He wasn't as angry as he probably should have been; Jill wasn't an idiot. If she loved this guy, he had no right to tell her not to see him. She'd most likely dump him anyway. His lack of empathy didn't disturb him like it once would have, either; Jill had taught him that sometimes, the best thing to do was laugh it off.

"I left him," Jill croaked. "I left him. I told him I didn't want him to hurt me any more, and that I was leaving him. He got mad."

Of course he had.

Suddenly, a gentle knock sounded, and he looked questioningly at her. She waved toward the door. "Maybe it's Mom."

He nodded and opened the door; and was immediately backhanded out of the way. He was up in a moment, but already, Jill's boyfriend had advanced on her and struck her.

"You promised never to leave," he growled. "We had a deal! We were going to rule this town!"

"You promised never to hurt me," she shouted back, and he struck her again.

Jack jumped on his back and wrapped his arm around Dave's throat, cutting off his air supply. Dave, being bigger and stronger, simply threw him against the wall and flipped out a knife. "You bitch…you whore…you won't live to regret this."

With strength fuelled by adrenaline, Jack leapt at him and wrestled the knife away, but not before Dave got to Jill. Without hesitation and without remorse, Jack stabbed the man and kicked him away, furious. His sister was…

"Jack…"

…Alive?

He crawled to her. "Jill…"

Her voice was almost too faint to make out. "He…said we…were going to change Gotham. Change…the world…following rules…is stupid. I…believed him…please smile…for me."

He gave her his best smile, although he didn't feel it at all. She winced in pain. "Don't…ever stop…smiling…you can…change the world…this whole world…is just a joke…but you…your smile…you can be the joker…you can…be the master."

He watched hollowly as she closed her eyes for the last time.

"I stick a razor in my mouth and do this…to myself…"

Strangely, and hilariously, he felt all the pain…but it didn't hurt any more.

Now he'd never stop smiling. Jill would be proud.

"She can't stand the sight of me…"

Gretchen shrieked in horror. "Jack, what did you do to yourself?"

"You always said you liked my smile," he replied with a laugh. "Jill did too! She told me I should never stop smiling. You told me I should never stop smiling. And now guess what? I'm always smiling. Isn't that just dandy?"

"You're scaring me, Jack…"

"Oh, don't worry, this'll heal nice and easy. But isn't it pretty?"

"Don't joke about things like this!"

"But it's all a joke, Gretch! And I'm the joker. I'm the master!"

"You're acting crazy!"

He grinned and unconsciously licked the corner of his mouth, where one of his scars began. "I can be crazier. I'm gonna take over the world with this smile, Mother-dear. Aren't you just ecstatic?"

"I liked your smile, not this…monstrosity! You've lost it, Jack!"

He growled and stepped forward. "I'm not crazy; I'm just enlightened."

She backed away, grasping behind her. "S-stay away from me…"

"Oh, so the truth comes out. You only like my smile if I'm trying to cheer you up."

"No, I just…"

"You'll just have to learn to love other things," he continued, advancing farther. She shrank away, and he laughed – a horrid, high-pitched sound he decided he loved. "Don't worry; I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not Dave. You saw what he did to Jill, didn't you?"

"Get out," she screamed, closing her eyes. "Get out, get out! You're scaring me! You're acting like a monster!"

He shrugged. "Fine. I'm not coming back, then."

And he walked out.

He didn't see the car, but he heard the screams and before he lost consciousness, he realized he liked that sound.

"I'm always smiling…"

He woke to the steady beeping of the heart monitor and an empty hospital room. It smelled of antiseptic and detergent; it was a disgusting smell. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, but did it matter? He couldn't remember anything else, anyway.

Soon, a nurse bustled into his room and gave him a bright smile. "Oh, you've woken up."

"Loo-ks tha-t way," he replied sarcastically, wondering idly why his mouth wouldn't work correctly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Jus-t dan-dy."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

"I don't re-memberr how I go-t here, bu-t there'ss no pain. What's my naaame?"

"We're trying to find that out. I'm going to get your doctor, all right? Just sit tight and I'll be right back."

But he didn't want to talk to the doctor. He didn't like the smell of the hospital; it was too clean. The room was too ordered. His eyes hurt from all the white. The doctor would make him stay; but that was unacceptable.

He ripped the IVs out of his arms and dashed out, hiding in the women's restroom before anyone could catch him. It occurred to him that he ought to be scared, since he couldn't remember anything, but he wasn't; and it made him grin. He caught his reflection in the mirror; rough, fairly new scars marred his features, stretching into a false smile. He couldn't remember how he got them.

But he would later remember screams. He would remember a knife. He would remember something about rules being stupid, and being master of the joke that is life.

He would remember a sweet, dying voice telling him to never stop smiling.

And he did what made him happy. He did what made him smile. He found his passion, his calling in life. He stopped falling for the joke; he became the joker.

"You always tell me a different story," said the pretty blonde formerly known to all as Dr. Harleen Quinzel. "What's the real story?"

He grinned viciously at his creation, his personal jester, his Harley Quinn. "Hell if I know."

Jill fell down and broke her crown, and Jack came tumbling after.

He fixed her crown, erased his frown, and then became the Master.