Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or any of the characters from Batman. I do however own Claire and the other original characters.
This story is an alternate start to The Joker becoming who he is. As such, he is a different kind of person to begin with. I'm going with the name "Jack".
The Joker in this story is BASED on Heath Ledger's performance, but this Joker is different in some personality ways and mannerisms.
EDIT: I don't know why, but the site isn't saving my formatting at all, and it's cutting out portions of the text. I'm trying to catch it all before uploading the chapters to the story, but I'm sure I miss a few things. If you notice text that runs together or doesn't make sense, or bad formatting please let me know and I'll fix it. I assure you I know how to write, the site is just giving me a hard time. Thanks!
The Calm Before the Storm
It was damn near a monsoon outside as I looked out the window at the meager amount of traffic going down a usually busy road. Behind me the radio played 'golden oldies', the signal crackling as it struggled to come through the thick stone walls.
All around me was beautiful hand-crafted furniture, and in the semi-darkness that the storm created, the multiple lamps cast a warm glow around the store.
Then the lamps flicked a few times, and Fleetwood Mac was interrupted by the blaring of the severe weather alarm.
I listened as tornado warnings were given out for several counties, feeling distant from the whole event, even when my own county was named.
A glance at the rustic carved clock on the wall confirmed my fears-I couldn't close for another two hours.
I turned my attention back to the window, just in time to see someone casually walking down the sidewalk in a trench coat, head lowered and hands stuck deep in their pockets. Wild long-ish wavy blonde hair was matted down from the rain, and the person was almost out of sight when they went still, turned, and our eyes met through the window.
The person was a man, and we stared at each other for several long moments. Even at the distance between us, his dark eyes were penetrating, and I felt myself flush and begin to tremble. A strange feeling of unease and foreboding came over me, and I gasped softly when he began to retrace his steps, then turned toward the door to my store.
It swung open, and the wind howled through, spraying the tile floor with rain water.
Then he stepped in, and gave his head a small shake before looking up to lock eyes with me once again.
He had terrible-looking scars on his cheeks leading up from the corners of his mouth, flesh raised and puckered, and I wondered how someone would come by such an injury.
"It uh, isn't polite to stare, y'know." he drawled, voice rough and pitching upwards at strange intervals.
Blushing, I looked away, and he cackled - yes, cackled -and began to walk around the small shop, shoes squeaking on the floor as he went.
I watched him touch various pieces of furniture, sliding his fingers over the finish or knocking on the headboards, and I had to smile just a little, his behavior reminded me of the kids that would come into the store with their parents.
"Quite the storm." I commented, and he grunted, then replied:
"What's a uh, lov-el-y lady like yourself doing working here alone during a storm like this?" he completed the new version of the trite pickup line by waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
His voice made me shiver, like fingernails on a chalkboard that you wanted to hear again and again, and I laughed, trying to cover up my discomfort.
He stepped closer, and tilted his head like a curious puppy, blinking a few times.
"Well, well, well, I uh, think someone has a crush on little old me." he affected a shocked expression and I turned a lovely shade of pink.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know you, I don't even know your name." I insisted, arms reflexively crossing over my chest.
"Jack." he said simply, then stared at me expectantly.
I hesitated, then relented.
"Claire."
"Lovely to uh, meetcha, Claire." he was back to drawling again, giving each syllable strange inflection, and I swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.
"You uh, never answered my ques-ti-on." he sing-songed, and I had to think for a moment before I was able to remember what he asked about.
"I work here for my mother." I said simply, and was about to elaborate when over the sounds of the pouring rain and blustering wind I heard the severe weather sirens going off outside.
A glance out the window and my stomach dropped. There were no cars at all on the road, and the trees were nearly sideways.
"Don't be afraid." Jack coaxed, and I licked my lips nervously.
"I don't have a basement." I stated simply, and he laughed that cackle again, and flopped onto the nearest couch.
"Tell me allll about you." he said, folding his hands in his lap, face attentive, and I frowned.
"Why?" I asked, feeling dread welling up within me again.
"Because I want to know, " he reasoned, "and I'll uh, find out about you whether you tell me or not, so you may as well spill."
I didn't like the implications of that statement at all.
I bit my lower lip for a moment, then decided to risk it.
"Well, I was born a poor black child…" I quoted.
He roared with laughter, and I couldn't help smiling, this guy was a great audience!
"I like you," he said plainly, after he had calmed down, "you're perfect."
I blinked. "Perfect for what?" I wasn't sure that I wanted the answer.
"Perfect for the uh, job of being my partner in crime." he gave me a toothy grin.
"Funny." I deadpanned, and he clutched at his chest.
"Madam, you wound me! Here I spill my greatest desires to you…"
Standing, he began to pace.
"This uh, city needs someone new to run things. Who has everything under control now, the mob? They don't understand, all this," he threw his arms out as if embracing the whole world, "is just one. Big. Joke."
I swallowed hard. This sounded awfully familiar to my own thoughts in the distant past, before things changed for me.
"And you get this joke?" I ventured, and he whipped around.
"Yes! And uh, I think you get it too."
"Ummmm… no." I said simply.
He grinned. "Just think about it. Here's my card." he thrust a bit of paper at me, then turned and strode out into the raging storm.
I looked down. He'd handed me a playing card. I flipped it over.
The Joker.