The Beginning is the End is the Beginning or The Joke that Kills
A/N: Though the following is based heavily upon the events of The Killing Joke and other comics, as well as several different films. I do NOT own DC Comics. Wouldn't be on Fanfiction if I did. This is in no way related to the origins based in "Little Taste of Reality", rather it is a different tale altogether. It's basically a combination of Mark and Heath's performances, however you want to view that, is up to you.
The young man rubbed his sweaty, shaky palms across his face. Tangling his fingers in his dark blonde curls. Mingled laughter from the audience drifted to him backstage.
"Alright Jack, you're next."
Yeah. Next for annihilation, he thought wryly. And shakingly, he waited for the last contestant to enter the backstage before he made his entrance.
The guy, a narrow-faced man with a dull-looking persona walked in. He smiled at Jack. "Good luck out there, pal. They're a tough audience tonight, and Taggert doesn't hire if they won't laugh."
Fantastic. Doesn't help that I have stage fright. "You mean break a leg," he said nervously.
He waved his hand. "Whatever. Good luck just the same."
Jack sighed, and parted the curtain. He walked out on the stage, and began his routine.
Halfway through, he couldn't remember the punchline. The audience started booing at him, only making him stumble worse through the lines.
He was stopped by what he only assumed could be Taggert. "Sorry, um –"
"Jack."
"Jack, yes, um, look I'm sorry but –"
"I understand," he interjected hurriedly. "I- I think I'll just leave now."
"I think that would be a good idea," he heard someone say.
He dashed out of the Gotham Theatre, and panted for breath in the alley across the street, staring dejectedly up at the sign. "Whatever am I going to tell Jeannie?"
"Hi Jack!" Jeannie rubbed her swollen stomach, a smile on her careworn features. "How'd it go?"
"Hey Jen," he barely smiled, and went to the plate of fruit on the table. He began to peel the last shriveled orange.
"You didn't get it did you?" she asked quietly, reaching for his hand.
He pulled away, wiping a bit of greasepaint from his face. "No," he managed in barely above a whisper. "I got nervous and messed up… they said they might call me…" he hung his coat on the chair, blinking rapidly.
"Oh," she said, sighing wearily.
"What do you mean oh?" he flamed, turning to face her, his coffee-brown eyes almost blackened in rage.
"I-I didn't mean anything!" she protested, looking as though she might cry.
"Yes. You did. You said oh, like that…"
"Oh God, Jack, all I said was…" Jen was trying to defend herself.
"You said oh, as in Oh, you didn't get a job? As in Oh, so how are we going to feed the baby?" Jack didn't want to lose his temper, but it was happening anyway. "You think I'm not worried about that? You think –" he began turning away from her and clenching his fists, "You think I don't care, like it's all a big joke or something, well it's not, Jen! I do care…I have to stand up there and nobody laughs, and you think, you think I-" He stopped. He was taking his rage against the machine out on Jen again, just as he promised he wouldn't. "Oh God, Jen, I'm sorry…" he turned almost sobbing, to embrace his wife.
"Oh, baby, s'alright. I'm sorry too…"
"I don't mean to take it out on you," he snuffled. "You're suh-suffering enough… being married to a loser…" he added as an afterthought.
"It'll be okay," she soothed, running her slim fingers through his tangled blonde curls. "He won't even be here for another three months. I think Mrs. Burkiss with let the rent go a little longer. She feels sorry for me."
"She hates me," Jack interjected. "She comes in the hallway and scowls everytime I go upstairs. I'm trying, Jen, really I am…I should have never quit Ace… "
"But you hated it, remember?" Jeanne said, looking as if she would cry. "You didn't like mixing all the –"
"But I was good at it, Jeannie. It made good money. And now I'm a failure."
"No, Jack – You're not – you'll make a great father to our baby." Tears started streaming from her eyes.
"No. I. Won't." he said, beginning to lose his temper. "I'm losing it, Jen. I think, it was all the chemicals or something…It's like I'm somebody different…I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Maybe you need the doctor worse than I do."
He laughed wryly.
"See, I can make you laugh," she said, grinning, her face distorting briefly.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked worriedly.
"Oh, hon, it's nothing, the baby just kicked that's all."
He smiled, kissing her softly on the cheek. "I'm glad I have you."
But something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. Some monster just waiting for the cage to spring…
She grinned. "Job or no job, you're still great in the sack, and you know how to make me laugh. Why don't you go out tonight, Jack?" Jen suddenly. "You haven't been out in months."
"Is it because you don't want me around?" he teased, nuzzling her gently.
She giggled lightly. "Nah, I'm alright, Mrs. Huxley from downstairs is coming up."
"Achooo! With her cat?" Jack asked, wrinkling his nose slightly, but smiling just the same.
"Yeah, and you know how long she talks. But she's helping out with the baby, so it's gotta be done. Girl talk, Jack."
"I don't mind, really I don't," he said earnestly. Knowing that it had been a problem before. He'd had a drinking problem, and he wasn't quite sure why. He hadn't since he found out Jen was pregnant, but he wasn't sure if he could trust himself.
Later that evening, Jack went to his favorite pub, for a drink, leaving Jen asleep. Hoping he'd calm his nerves. It felt like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, just ready to fall off.
It's just the fact that I'm going to be a father, he reasoned, taking another shot.
"Want another?" asked a voice. Jack turned slowly to face a stranger, his image blurred in his dull eyes.
"Sure, why not?" Jack tried to pronounce what he was saying, but he slurred his words. Guess I'm more drunk than I thought.
"Why don't you come and sit with us?" the stranger invited, pointing to a table in the corner.
Jack could only nod, getting slowly off the stool, and stumbling to the back of the room. What's wrong with me? I never drink like this.
"Want a chance to make some real money, pal?" the stranger asked pouring him another drink and gesturing to the plate of scampi on the table.
Jack savored one, hoping uselessly that the brandy-wine marinade would sober him up a bit. "Well, yeah…sure," he said, masking his nervousness with another gulp of the liquor.
"It's real simple man, you just tell us where to go, and you keep lookout and you get your cut."
"How much?"
"Eh, 'bout, say what, Moony? Half-grand?"
"Yeah, around that."
Jack turned to face the other man seated at the table, but he couldn't see him very well. "When's this?"
"Er, say about next Friday?"
"What am I gonna tell Jenny?"
"Just tell her you're at work or something. Nuthin' much."
And that's how Jack fell further into the trap. Until that Friday, he went to meet his new friends at the pub for a final meeting before the heist.
"Well, told her that I have a club meeting tonight."
"Excellent, man," said the first one, who Jack never did find out their names. "We'll meet later tonight then, say eight?"
"Sounds –"
"Excuse me –" Jack froze. The cops. Had he been set up? "Uh, Mr. Nahpier?"
"It's Napier. Yeah, that's me." Jack chewed his lip nervously, unsure of what to think.
"I'm sorry, sir. Your wife…"
"Jen…is Jenny hurt, is she alright?" He began to panic.
"I'm sorry sir, she was testing a baby bottle warmer…and there was a fire…" The next words were a blur. "…details at the hospital…another drink…"
Jack sat down in his chair, shattered. "I – Jenny…she's dead…"
"Look man, sorry for your loss, you probably want to be alone now, we'll see you at eight, alright?"
"What's the use now? She's dead!" Jack shouted, angered they couldn't understand.
"Sorry, man, you can't back out now, security and all that. You'll still get your cut, at least you can give your wife a decent burial, eh?"
Jack sighed, shrugging. "Alright, eight o'clock," he heard himself say. What was the use? She was gone. He wasn't a father anymore, just a penniless widow, a sideshow freak.
He could hear them laughing as they left the pub – probably laughing at him.
That night, he met them – as planned on the docks. Unloading the shipment as he was supposed to. He hung near the outskirts, not wanting to get too deeply involved.
Shots rang out, and the men scattered. Jack froze briefly, when suddenly pain ripped through his skull. Panicking, he ran for the nearest entrance. He stopped at the railing, noting the bubbling vats of chemicals. He leaned on the railing, gasping for breath, pain still shooting through his face. He couldn't see, couldn't think, he felt the railing slip from his fingers, giving into his weight, and he was falling…falling for what felt like forever, hearing himself screaming, hearing shouts…
He opened his eyes just before the chemicals closed in on him, seeing a dark shadow watching him fall, the face contorted in a somber expression, the swinging light behind him giving the appearance he had horns.
But then the waters closed in and there was nothing, only drowning darkness…
Jack struggled to swim, but his face burned so badly he was disoriented. Limp, the water carried him the short distance into the dirty harbor.
He snorted, inhaling the air. He coughed and sputtered, blood still pouring out of his face. He tried jolting himself by slapping himself in the face. He couldn't feel a thing. Who am I? He reached for his pocket, hoping his wallet would reveal his identity. But all he managed to pull from his soggy clothes was a single playing card. A Joker. A giggle came from his throat, and he couldn't stop laughing. He coughed out the chemicals that were burning in his throat and laughed again, giggling like a maniac.
A young man saw him, walking the alley, still laughing to himself. "Jack? It's me, Nig....Jack – you look like a ghost! Jack – your wife…killed…not accident…"
Jack? "You mistake me for someone else, young man. I'm Joker…" he giggled again, stumbling like a drunken fool further into the alley.
The young man darted to a nearby phonebooth to dial 911 - but the damage had already been done.
A/N: Congrats to whoever caught the hints to other characters! Have a cookie, and leave a review :D