This is my first Batman fanfic, so it may have some character errors, sorry bout that. This story isn't what you think it's going to be like. It's not going to be like Julia goes off and finds her dad the Joker and teaches him to be good and stuff like that. Nope, that's stupid, and it wouldn't happen. I'm trying (hopefully) to make this story realistic, like it could happen in the Batman world. Just so you know, Julia's Mom obviously has no clue that her daughter's father is the Joker, since he was Jack Napier when she knew him. I like constructive cristiscm, but no fire please, no one likes that. Please review, I want to know how I did. I'll update if there's interest. Enjoy!


My Mom never really told me much about my dad. She said that he left town a long time ago, before I was born. If I ask her any more she just gets ticked off and says, "Julia Samuels forget about it!" My grandparents were not amused when they found out that she was pregnant at 15. They supported her, but by the time she finished school, they pretty much kicked her out. So you have an 18 year old girl with a three-year old kid, she's not all too bright and what do you think she's going to do?
She got a job as a stripper and made enough money to buy an apartment for us. She made some friends, who would baby-sit me while she worked, and her boss was surprisingly obliging, maybe because she was one of his best dancers. He allowed her to set up a playpen in the back room for me to sleep in while she worked. You're probably a little surprised at all of this, but she made enough money, and was old enough to take care of me, so the social workers gave us little trouble.

That was my childhood, and by the time I was nine, I learned to take care of myself. My Mom worked long hours, and sometimes spent long periods of time at men's houses so I learned how to do things without her. I worked hard in school, since I had learned early on that you can't depend on anyone. I had to get scholarships to get out. I didn't have many friends, most Moms didn't want their kids associating with some stripper's kid, and they stayed clear. But I had a couple of close friends that I could trust, and they helped lighten the long years of my childhood.

I was a dreamer, and I loved to make up stories. On the playground, I was the one my friends would go to for new games to play, and my teachers frequently told me to be quiet and sit, I could never stay still for long. I still can't. Though I got very good grades, I was in trouble a lot, I didn't like rules, and felt like they were trying to control you, warp you in some sort of robot. My teachers often complained to my Mom, but she didn't care all too much. I'm not saying she hated me, she did love me in some way, but wasn't much of a mother. So I continued breaking the rules and dreaming, no one could stop me.

Since my Mom didn't tell me much about my dad, it left me a lot of room to imagine. I made him as the kind of dad who would love me more than life itself. He would play with me all the time and help me with my homework. He would hold me tight when I was scared, and always be there when I would come home. He would kiss me goodnight and tuck me in, something that I had never experienced. And most of all he would always be smiling, and never frown at me, or get angry for no reason. He was the perfect dad, and I was going to find him.

I don't know when I started becoming obsessed with finding my father, maybe it was when I asked my Mom for the billionth time where he went and she told me that he went to Gotham City, but I became obsessed. I learned everything I could about Gotham, everything, thinking that the more I knew, the better chance I had of finding him. I learned about the large amount of crime there, and the death of Dr. Thomas Wayne and his wife, Martha Wayne. I read everything there was about this city, from the famous rich people, to the police reports of thousands of criminals. I was addicted.

Years went by, and I grew older. My years in high school flew by, filled with my homework, my part-time job, and a couple of boyfriends. But what seemed to take over was my continued Gotham obsession. Things had gotten a lot more intense in the last couple of years. It was common for many of my friends to be gushing over the son of Thomas Wayne, Bruce Wayne, who was the main star crush for most. But that wasn't what interested me as much. It was Batman. It amazed me that there was this ordinary man, who was trying to make Gotham a better place. I followed news reports, and watched the news channel from the city. We lived only three hours away, and I used television and the internet to experience the antics of this caped crusader.

This was interrupted by some sort of crazy criminal clown, the Joker. It seemed like this city was becoming a comic book, what with crazy villains and superhero's. I'd be lying if I said the Joker didn't frighten me, he did. Sometimes, I had nightmares, but they always became dreams when the Batman showed up to save me. I followed everything that happened, from his threatening to kill civilians if the Batman didn't show his identity to the Jokers sudden change of heart, and the ferry incident.

I saw the moment when it became clear that the DA of Gotham, Harvey Dent, was dead, and the news said that Batman was now wanted, that he had killed five people. When I first discovered that Batman was a murderer, I could barely breathe. I didn't believe it, I couldn't believe it. How could my hero do such a thing? I convinced myself that he hadn't, but then who did? I couldn't believe that Batman would do something like that. He was a knight, saving not killing. This crushing blow did nothing but increase my desire to go to Gotham. Not just to find my father, but to find out more about those five murders. I wanted to clear Batman's name, I wanted to save my hero.

My last year of school ended, and I was free. My dream for the longest time had been to be a reporter in Gotham, and it fitted perfectly into my plan. I had worked my butt off to the get the scholarship to apprentice as a reporter in Gotham, and I got it. Usually, it's a good idea to go through college first to boost your chances of getting a better job, but Gotham was a place very few wanted to be, and since my marks were so good, they wanted me!

When my mother found out, she was furious.

"After all I've given you, your leaving me?" She had sobbed, her face broken. "I love you Julia, I'm your mother, and you can't go!" This statement enraged me. How dare she say I owed her anything! She had done nothing for me, she had said she loved me all too infrequently, and had barely been home.

"I don't care." I said, my eyes burning with rage. "You don't care about me, you never did. Your were never there, I took care of myself for most of my life. You never paid me any attention. I need to get out of here, and away form you."

"Don't go please!" She sobbed, grabbing at my shirt. I smelt alcohol. I shook my head, disgusted.

"Why should I stay? So I become some sort of stripper like you? No, you can't stop me. I'm leaving this hellhole, and that's that." She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. I hated her for it. I hated her for trying to make me stay; it made me want to grab her around the neck and squeeze….I shook my head. No, I told myself. That was a horrible thought. Batman would never do that.

"I need to go; I need to find my dad." I told her.

"That bastard?" She shrieked, suddenly angry. "No, he doesn't care about you."

"He doesn't know about me." I snarled.

"It doesn't matter; he slept with me, and then took off!" She growled. "No he wouldn't care."

"I don't believe you." I hissed. "And I need to go, or I'll be late for my train."

"Wait, please, if I give you something of your fathers, will you stay?"

"I thought it was a one-nighter." I mocked, turning to look at her.

"It was, but he was in my class in school, I have his picture." She tottered into her room and came out with scissors and a yearbook. "Here." She opened it and cut out a picture, then handed it to me. I took it with shaking hands, and looked at my father. My mother was right that I looked nothing like her, I looked just like him. He was quite good looking, and was very thin, a trait which I had obtained. His hair was stringy and blonde and brown. My hair was the same colour, but curly, like my mothers. His face was just like mine except thinner and less rough. His nose, his ears, even his eyes: dark almost black brown, were just like mine. I looked to his name. Jack Napier. My mind whirled and I looked back up at my mother, who was looking at me hopefully, her mascara running down her face like polluted tears.

"So you'll stay?" She whispered, looking like a child. I grabbed my bag, and stuffed the picture in my pocket. I handed her a piece of paper.

"This is the number of my apartment." She grabbed at it whimpering.

"Please don't leave me, I love you, doesn't that matter?"

"No." I said. "Maybe you should have tried those words ten years ago." She got up and threw her arms around me. I patted her back till I realized that she had passed out. I let her drop to the ground and glared at her through misty eyes. I opened the door and slammed it shut leaving my past behind.

"Nowhere to go but forward." I whispered, and I took my first steps toward my future and Gotham.


So? Please review, and I hope its alright.