I take credit for this scar story, so don't steal it please. I don't own Joker, or the Cheshire Cat. -SevvyGirl

Chapter 4: Cheshire Cats Don't Like Water

We stop around noon under a bridge on the interstate. Cars are smashed and piled up everywhere; not a victim nor survivor among them. I stare solemnly at the stream; haven't smiled all day. Today is just a bad day; any day that starts out with the Joker lighting a house that you're in on fire with the intention of possibly watching you burn to death is probably not going to be a good day. He's been telling jokes and pinching me or pulling my hair in a teasing manner all morning, but I'm not smiling for that moron.

A rock hits me in the head and I yelp a sharp ouch before hurling a bigger rock back at the clown, hitting him square in the chest. He throws another rock that appears pretty sharp. It hits me in the ribs and I can feel myself bleeding. "Quit, you cut me, moron," I snap as he slides down the bank towards me. I slip a foot out as he starts to pass to get to the water and he trips, falling head first into the water.

Oh crap, he's going to kill me for that.

He comes up, covered in some kind of green slime and spitting out water. He glares at me, his paint running. One of the only thing he's been carrying is his makeup case, and once it's out he's going to be mad.

I can't help but smirk a little bit but it quickly stops as his mouth turns up in a snarl/smile. He stands up and marches toward me. I scoot up the bank and turn to try to run away from him, panicking, but he manages to grab the waist line of my pants and hauls me backwards. He continues to haul me backwards, gaining a little momentum, and then flinging me out into the water, jumping in after me. Despite being green, it's actually pretty cool and feels good on my sunburnt skin. The only problem is that the Joker's trying to shove my head under.

"Please don't drown me!" I scream frantically and take a gulp of air before going under. I slip and my knee scrapes the rocks on the shallow bottom. Joker's laughing and it sounds so distorted from under water that I start panicking even worse. He's choking me now as well as I try to scratch his hands to get him to let go. I finally reach up out of the water and manage to catch some of his hair. I yank hard, forcing his head under the water and we turn tables. Instead of trying to drown him though, because I know he'll regain control since he's so much bigger, I head for the bank like a soaked rat. I get almost back to where I was before the Joker catches my ankle and drags me back.

I struggle madly to get away, determined to run as far and as fast as I can away from this homocidal maniac as soon as I'm free. I won't even look back. I gasp and cough.

"What's wrong, beautiful? Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got 'um?" he asks, holding me still at last, pinned against the bank. He nods to himself and says, "My sister was a paranoid schizophrenic, and one day she goes off on one of her imaginary trips while we're at the fair. I think maybe a...clown set her off or something, but she pulls out a kitchen knife from home that she shouldn't have had...our parents were at work that day and we weren't supposed to be at the fair alone. She grabs me and pulls me close, like this, behind a tent, and asks, 'Are you with them?' and gestures towards a sad clown. I shake my head no but she shakes me, 'Are you with them?!' and I was only 7, so I got scared and said yes. 'I knew you were with them!' she screamed and put the blade in my mouth. 'Why aren't you smiling? Why so serious? Not much of a clown now, are you? Why so serious?' she asked as I cried out from her sawing the knife through my mouth, 'Why so serious? Let's put a smile on that face!'" he threatens, pulling the knife back and slitting my left cheek open. I jerk and manage to hit him in the nose and shove him off me. He regains quickly and drags me back in the water, beating me in the stomach and face. My face contorts and my left cheek tears open nearly to my ear. I scream as blood pours out and it swirls in the water around me. He seems pretty upset about not getting to finish the job and calls, "You'll need help with the stitches, Harlequin!"

Harlequin? Harley Quinn is the Harlequin to Joker, not me! Has he lost it for good?!

I need stitches, but I need to run. I get to the bridge before I look back, blood running down my face. He's not chasing me, instead standing there, wiping off his knife. He looks calmly up at me and smiles. He knows I have no choice, but I can't let him 'finish the job'. Tears mix with the cut and it burns like crazy. Ha, burns like crazy. He IS crazy. Burns like Joker.

I start laughing right on the bridge because my mouth burns like Joker. But laughing jars the sliced tissues and probably muscles. How will I even talk? Meanwhile I'm standing on a bridge in the middle of nowhere with no sewing needle or thread, or anything remotely sterile to sanitize the wound with. Not to mention the large amount of blood going down my neck and soaking through my shirt. Joker starts slowly up the bank, stopping where we dropped our bags. He digs into his and pulls out a small medical kit. He continues up until he's about 5 feet from me and I take a step back. He frowns. "Undecisive still? Fine by me, you've only got so much blood to lose, and I'm more than entertained by every drop you do. I haven't seen the light go out of someone's eyes in a long time."

"W-why did you do this to me?" I cry, and cry harder because of the pain from the salty tears.

He takes a step forward and I back up again, "NO! You're just going to cut the other side!" I wail.

He shakes his head no. "I need you to be able to eat," he says and I let him move closer.

"I'm not Harley," I say, spitting out more blood. It hurts so much to talk, but I can't be silent just yet.

"Why not? She's gone now, just like the rest."

"I don't want to be Harley...I don't want to be like Harley..." I say and spit again.

"Let's get that smile sewed up, shall we?" he grins and grabs my bloody hand. He's taken off his gloves.

It's then that it dawns on me and I get M.A.D. "You planned this all along, didn't you?" I ask wrathfully. "The sewing needle and thread, the antiseptic there, and you even took off your stupid gloves so you wouldn't get blood on them!" I yell.

"I took off my gloves because it's, ah, HOT," he says, but he doesn't deny planning it.

I sink down against the concrete railing. It is hot. Not too bad now, but it will be.

He threads the needle after soaking it and the thread in the peroxide. He takes the peroxide and says, "Lie down."

I do as he asks, terrified. He drips the peroxide on my shredded jaw and I scream.

"Music to my ears," he giggles and stabs me with the needle. "Stop moving so much," he chastises and I pass out.