This is a Joker origin story. It'll be in character, but I'm hoping to create something that hasn't been seen in this fandom before. This chapter is just a little introduction, I suppose. The coming chapters will flesh out 'Jack' and the girl he grows up with. Anyways, feedback is always welcome, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on if this is worth continuing.

Enjoy.

Disclaimer

The Joker belongs to DC Comics ;

the original character belongs to me.

One

"Psst!"

Knock, knock.

A long pause.

A heavy, exasperated sigh.

"Psst!" again. Another long pause and then, "Hey!"

She knocked rapidly at the glass pane with her knuckles, much louder this time. He looked up then from the inside of his window, his eyes flashing with annoyance as they locked in on hers. She smiled, satisfied that she'd caught his attention, and then motioned lightly with her arms to open his window as she slid open her own. He visibly rolled his eyes before walking to his own window, surrounded by two shabby, peeling shutters and then slowly slid it open, leaning on two elbows on the sill.

"What?"

She mimicked his motion and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands and staring at him thoughtfully. The cool summer air felt welcoming on the flesh of her cheeks and the sequoias humming quietly in the lush grass below provided a comforting sound to her ears.

"What are you doing?"

He stared at her for a long moment; his face stoic and unreadable, before his lips parted in an inaudible sigh. "You made me open my window to ask me what I'm doing?"

She shrugged. "I'm bored."

When he moved backwards, his arms coming up to shove his window closed again, she leaned forward quickly. "Jack – wait!"

He paused in his motions and then sighed audibly this time, cocking an eyebrow at her and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "What?"

She bit her lip lightly, avoiding his gaze before tentatively shifting her eyes upwards. "Could – could you … " her words broke off as her teeth worked the fleshy portion of her lower lip. " – I , um. There's a spider in my room."

He rolled his eyes and snorted, "So kill it."

"You know I hate bugs," she sighed, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. She glanced up, smiling slightly, and felt a slight pang of victory as she saw another light sigh escape his mouth – he had a look of thoughtfulness on his visage.

He groaned under his breath and then moved forward, sliding the window up further to swing one long leg over the edge and then the other. She grinned, feeling completely triumphant as he shifted out of his window, plopping down on the damp grass below with a soft thud. He approached her window with an annoyed look fresh in his syrupy eyes, and she felt her heart flutter at the sight of his wavy, honeyed tresses being illuminated under the soft glow of the moonlight. He stopped in front of her window stooping down to swing his legs inside, and then he was next to her.

He crossed his arms and stared expectantly at her. "So?" he drawled irritably, glancing around. "Where is it?"

She chewed her lip with a playful little smile and then swooped behind him fluidly, quickly shutting her window and preventing him from escaping back to the dark confines of his cramped bedroom.

He groaned, his eyes fluttering closed and his head tipping back. Exhaling sharply through his nose, his jaw visibly tightened. "There is no spider, is there."

She didn't respond and instead strode around to the other side of her bed, pulling back the pale lavender comforter and sliding into the cool, emerald sheets. "Oh, please," she rolled her eyes, smiling at him as she pulled back the other side, patting the empty mattress lightly. "You don't hate it as much as you act like you do."

His eyes fluttered open and he stared at her for a long moment, his gaze shifting to the window and then down to the empty place next to her in her full-size bed. With a heavy sigh, he slowly sauntered over to the bed, ignoring the way her green eyes lit up and the bright beam decorating her lips. Sliding into the bed slowly, he pulled the comforter over his lanky form with a rough persistence, lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling.

She was on her back, too, smiling over at him before shifting her own gaze to the small, glow-in-the-dark stars scattered along the eggshell paint above her. They had a good few inches between them – they never touched, never made any contact with one another. Jack didn't do touching, or so he said. She respected that, and was content with simply lying next to him – her in blue cotton pajamas and him in a pair of weathered jeans and a wrinkled tee.

They both stared at the ceiling as a heavy silence engulfed the room, and it was that subtle comfort that brought warmth that settled in her stomach and swelled straight into her chest. Nights like these were always nice, she decided. Jack's even breathing was calming to her, and the scent of some sort of muskiness and spiciness tickled her senses and remained embedded in her jersey sheets well into the next day. He didn't come often, but when he did, she made the effort to cherish the moment, grateful that he'd made the time to come spend an evening with her.

She licked her lips slightly. "Jack?"

A heavy exhale. "What?"

She glanced over at him. His eyes were closed, his arms laid out loosely on the blanket on either side of him. She observed him for a moment before continuing, "Are you excited to start school tomorrow?"

"No."

"Why not?" she asked, a frown tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It's our first day of high school."

He exhaled slowly through his nostrils, shifting slightly in between the sheets. She could feel his warmth radiating into her, even as they lay so distant from one another. "So?"

"Aren't you excited? We're going to be ninth graders."

His lips parted, his tongue darting out to swipe lightly at the corner of his mouth. "Go to sleep."

She sighed, averting her gaze back to the tiny little stars glowing pleasantly above her. "I don't understand you." When he didn't respond, she opened her mouth to elaborate, "You say such – "

"Maggie," he snapped suddenly, and she felt her eyes widen slightly. He never used her name, never addressed her so directly. Not unless he was truly annoyed or furious or aggravated. "Go to sleep."

She exhaled sharply, frowning into the dark air around her. "I'm not sleepy."

"Then let me sleep," he drawled coolly, his voice a groggy murmur in the empty room. "Or I'll leave."

She smiled to herself. It was an empty threat, she knew that. Whenever he came to her room to spend the night, he was always there for the entire evening. Shifting an inch closer to him, she felt him tense slightly within the sheets, but ignored it. "Goodnight, Jack."

He didn't respond. He never did.

When she drifted off, a smile playing at her lips, her dreams were filled of the possibilities that high school would offer – the friends she would make, the things she would learn, the experiences she would have. But more than anything, her thoughts were floating full of visions of her and Jack experiencing those things together. Because he was all that mattered. He was her best friend, her confidante, her everything. And as she dreamed of him, she saw his honeyed tresses and his eyes – which were always warmer in her dreams than in reality. Instead of his cold, stoic demeanor, he was smiling kindly at her, offering her his hand, guiding her through anything and everything. He wasn't approachable, or particularly pleasant to be around. But to her, he was everything, and even with his cold gazes and his stoic demeanor, he was the only person to make her heart flutter.

When she woke in the morning, the soft rays of the sun cast a glow on the cool emptiness of the sheets beside her.

Again, reviews are appreciated. I have some nice plans, if this receives any sort of positive feedback (: