Jessica tugged at the small shoots of grass, pressing her fingers right where the hard dirt met willowy blade. She examined the long tuberous root, after she had pulled the grass from its confines, before biting off the white end, chewing the tasteless root till it became pulp.

"Hungry?" Jack inquired, peering at her curiously. She just shrugged before plucking more blades, tossing some over her shoulder as she went.

"Not really, it's just something I do when I'm bored." Although this wasn't entirely true, Jessica was far from bored. Her proximity to Jack was making her jittery and restless. She pressed green stained palms to her bare lower thighs before leaning back on her elbows, tilting a cheek towards the impervious sun's rays.

"Write about your feelings guys! What do you see? What do you hear? What does the sun make you think of?" Mr. Howard's thin voice managed to find them now. They lay at the base of a gentle hill, feet pressing against the thin chain link fence. Jack had invited her to his spot, well near his spot; in order to avoid the pervasive gave of their teacher. She assumed this was his two month late apology for hurting her feelings, and even though it was hardly a proper apology, she felt inclined to forgive him. She lay back against the cool earth, rolling up her cotton sleeves slightly. "Might as well tan." She sighed, closing her eyes against the intense sky.

Despite her contempt towards the bumbling instructor, Howard's words got her thinking. What was she feeling? Well she felt like a jumble of nerves at the moment, just the proximity to him was killing her. How long had it been since she'd spoke to him for the first time? It was hard to remember and almost irrelevant. He only existed within the confines of their English class. Her whole day was spent in sweet anticipation, eagerly awaiting the hour and thirty minutes she would spend, elbow to elbow with her crush. Disappointment, thick as syrup and just as cloying, would settle through her when the period bell sounded and she had to rise from her desk, each time having accomplished nothing more than a few sideways glances. As soon as she exited the door she was someone else, playing a different part in a world he had no place in. She resigned herself to the friends she loved, to the boy she adored. Connor, she considered him now and before she could quell the traitorous thought, realized he was just a consolation prize. A way to soothe the desperate sadness created by the boy beside her.

What did she hear? Well even if she was making an attempt to write today, she never would have scribbled notes on something so irrelevant. All she could hear now that she considered it was the gentle scraping of Jack's pencil against the notebook propped against his knees. Even though her eyes were tightly closed, she knew he would be bent over the sheet of paper, cramped script sprawling across the page. Her brow furrowed as she considered what he could be writing about, what he was feeling. Now he had stopped writing and she could hear his slow breaths. She pressed the back of her hand against her tightly shut lids, risking a glance towards him. He sat, black faded T-shirt clinging to his thin frame deliciously. His jeans were ragged and poorly patched, looking as if they were worn almost to the seams. But it wasn't his worse for wear outfit that had her transfixed; it was where he was looking. His eyes were on her, slowly roaming across her out stretched body. His gaze wasn't leering or even embarrassing, it was something so private so personal that she felt as if she were intruding just by observing him. His teeth worried his plump bottom lip, brow knitted above his eyes. His eyes were boring into her every pore with an almost heart breaking vulnerability. It was as if he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her calf, any part of her really. Something was stopping him, the same something that stopped her from interrupting his moment, from maybe leaning forward a bit too close. He stretched a hand towards her shin and she froze, completely forgetting how to breathe or even process rational thought. Just a bit further and his fingertips would be against her calf, she thanked whoever happened to be above the clouds that she had shaved her legs that morning. His grasp fell short of her flesh and landed on a blade of grass that was flush against her leg. He gently extracted it before examining the plump root. He bit it off with some trepidation before turning back to his work. Jessica nearly swore aloud, her whole body tingled at his previous proximity and the almost callous rejection she had observed crashed upon her in a heavy wave. She sat up, suddenly unable to sprawl any longer.

"Why don't you do some work?" Jack mumbled, almost harshly as she picked the dried glass sprouts from her blouse.

"Why do work when you can do it for both of us." She replied dryly, she sat up on her knees and leaned over his shoulder, attempting to see what he had been pouring onto the paper. His hand shot up to obstruct her view but not before she caught sight of something disturbing.

"Orange juice? Saw dust?" He had been writing ingredients to something and even now the only words she'd caught sight of were disturbingly familiar. Jack closed the worn notebook and shot her an irritated look from over his shoulder. She sat back on her glutes, eyes slightly unfocussed. Where had she heard that combination before? Each ingredient on it's own completely benign but combined...what exactly were they combined?

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to pry?" He spat, slipping his graphite into his back pocket.

"Jack…Orange juice and sawdust…that's the ingredients to make a bomb." She said slowly, some obscure page from anarchist's handbook swam into her mind's eye. Jack shrugged, completely nonchalant.

"No not to make a bomb, in theory they are supposed to make nitroglycerin but it's totaly bullshit."

"Why are you writing down instructions for making a bomb?" She asked quietly, peering at him through guarded eyes.

"Shut up Jessica." He growled, folding his arms across his chest and staring straight ahead. "Who even cares, orange juice saw dust, piss and Listerine. It's easy to make anything people are scared of."

This was it; this was the part of him that wasn't allowed to exist. This was terrifying Jack, the Jack who wouldn't care if she was blown apart. This was the Jack who might come to school with a gun; she became furious at the thought.

She shoved his shoulder, hard. He fell to the side, rolling slightly before hitting the fence. He jumped up, puce in the face and sputtering.

"You bitch." His tone was savage he strode towards her, grabbing her wrists and hauling her up. His longer digits wrapped tightly around her hands but other than that he made no other contact with her prone form. His eyes were black, ablaze with anger. "You ask these stupid questions and I'm sick of it, don't ever touch me again."

"Stop being such a freak Jack, you're not gonna blow up the school, you'll never do anything. So stop being such an impious asshole." She hissed, not wanting to elicit the attention of Mr. Howard's. Jack stilled, hands no longer crushing her small fists, his anger seemed to be quickly replaced with amusement.

"Impious? Jess that's a big word but do you know what it means?" He was taunting her, but instead of her typical reaction, boundless fury, she felt her lips forming a slight smile.

"No," She began slowly. "But it sounded bad and it was the only thing I could think of." Jack laughed, legitimately laughed. Her eyes flickered to the column of his throat, to his bobbing Adam's apple. His eyes glittered as he slowly released her wrists.

"We always seem to be at each other's throats." She mused, rubbing her tingling hands. The unsettling discovery she'd made only moments ago had fled to the back of her mind as soon as his pamls made contact with her knuckles.

"That's because you're a brat." He said shortly, not showing any signs of stepping away from her. She certainly felt spoiled, he was still smiling.

"Yeah well when you're someone like me, no one talks to you the way you do." She sniffed, poking his chest.

He batted her hand away before snorting and simply saying, "Cocky too." She grinned brightly up at him, counting the small freckles adorning the narrow bridge of his nose.

"You know if your boyfriend walked by he could get the wrong impression." His tone had dropped an octave and the light smile had vanished. Jessica flushed, her neck and cheeks colouring instantly at the insinuation.

"What impression would that be?" She asked breathily, grimacing inwardly at the harpy quality her voice had taken. Jack just shrugged, eyes still on hers. She realized he was waiting for her to answer the unspoken question.

"Connor isn't my boyfriend." She said carefully. "He never will be."

He turned away, apparently satisfied with her answer. He took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Zach on the other hand…" She began, smirking as he gave her a sharp look. "I'm just kidding Jack, chill." He rubbed his jaw and peered at her, as though he were carefully choosing what to say next.

"Well I mean I just wondered after what I heard Connor saying in the locker room." Jessica went stock still, no no no. Her heart began to hammer in her chest. Please don't let him know about last month.

"What did he say?" She whispered, rubbing her clammy palms against her denim shorts.

"Something about 'going bare back' I mean I just assumed you two must be dating." Jack was yet again flaunting his cruelty. The surrender of her virginity had been a mortifying and drunken affair, something she had desperately attempted to forget. No part of her blamed Connor, it wasn't his fault that the experience had been so painful and at the time she had really truly wanted to just 'get it over with'. Jack walked back to where his notebook sat and scooped it up, refusing to look at her.

"You're such a liar; Connor would never talk to you." She didn't even care how juvenile she sounded at the moment. Jack turned back to her, condescending eyebrow already raised.

"Maybe not but sometimes you overhear conversations; sometimes everyone in such a small room overhears a certain conversation." So embarrassing, the thought of every senior boy hearing about what they'd done, what she'd said, was too much. She turned her face away from him, her throat suddenly feeling unbearably thick. She gasped and gripped at her collar bones, her breath ragged and moist. She now turned back towards the fence, covering her mouth as fat tears streaked down her cheeks. Maybe it wasn't the fact that everyone knew, maybe it was that Jack knew, that he thought she was a slut. The thought that she repulsed him tore a ragged sob from her heaving chest.

"Jessica I was just kidding." Jack said slowly, apparently rooted to the spot by her abrasive show of emotion. She scrubbed her damp cheeks with her palms before turning back to him, eyes downcast.

"Did he force you?" His tone was all venom, for a moment she considered saying yes; really stick it to him for embarrassing her. The guilt of lying about something so terrible forced her head to give a quick shake 'no' however.

It was so unfair, every single good moment was ruined by his inability to be kind. Not just kind, normal. She felt so silly, bursting into tears before him like the hormonal girl she was. Saner minds would have turned away at this point but Jessica would not be deterred. She realized at that moment that her affection towards him was so great that even this current humiliation did nothing to shake her resolve.

"Sorry, I'm being dumb." She said in a rush, granting him a sheepish smile. Surely it should have been a beginning but all it felt like was an end.


Apparently I have an inability to write very long chapters meaning all this important stuff gets squished together. Anyways I just wanted to mention one thing, I've seen a lot of stories on here that deal with the Joker becoming who he is as the result of one person alone, typically a woman and always before his scars. I think a person is a compilation of experiences and one teenage girl wouldn't be enough to do anything more than catch his brief attention, so don't expect any tenderness or particular kindness from my interpretation of the maniac. Also don't expect Jessica to be a character to cheer for.