This is sort of what happened during the five years they were apart. Please tell me if you don't like this or if something doesn't make sense to you. And please, please review or else I'll think you hate this. Please be completely honest.
For the five years they'd been apart, Ophelia had been living with her brother. He wasn't the one who'd given her her scars of course but he was every bit as strange as Jack had been before he'd become the Joker.
Will was a quiet man who loved to work with his hands, making strange, miniature sculptures in his spare time and selling them for spare cash. He worked as a mechanic and loved his work even though he was a neat freak. But that wasn't what was strange. It was his room.
Occasionally, he would reluctantly ask her to clean it for him and she always agreed. She was happy to do anything to repay him for his help. The first time she'd been inside had been a shock to say the least. The entire room was red. The walls, the carpet, the bed, everything was red. At the head of the bed was the head of a bull and at the foot was a trunk that she never dared to open. She never wanted to look any deeper into his life then she already had.
As a child he'd sharpen knives in the kitchen at three o'clock in the morning, what was he into now? Did it have anything to do with that trunk?
She was slightly curious but she knew that it would be best for her if she never looked.
And that was how most of her five years had passed, sane and boring. That is until the police caught him in the act of raping and killing some poor teenage girl. In the trunk they'd found his strange sculptures mixed with notebooks full of his twisted sexual fantasies and his plans involving murder. He'd been planning to try cannibalism.
That was when she'd moved back to Gotham after extensive questioning from the police. She'd found a small but decent apartment near the cafe where she worked. She often found new boyfriends but they were always the ones who broke it off calling her a "scarred freak" once they found out about her meds or sometimes it was just because they couldn't stand the sight of her anymore. The scars drew them in, gave her of hint of mystery, but they also repulsed them.
That made her think of Jack.
Had it been her fault? She reflected. Yes, it had been. Even if she wasn't the one who scarred his face, she was the one who scarred his heart. Not that he wouldn't have cracked eventually but maybe. . .
She didn't know anymore. She couldn't think straight. She'd bought her pills from the pharmacy before coming home but maybe she shouldn't have taken them before she'd started on the bottle of rum.
At least the world wasn't spinning for the moment. Well, it was, but not quite in the same way.
She didn't quite know how to explain it. When she said the world was spinning, she meant that her thoughts were racing, her heart was pounding in her chest, and everything was just so loud. Sometimes she felt like she couldn't even breathe. But when Jack was around she felt normal. Well, almost normal. They'd laugh it off and talk about their day. He'd tell her to stop taking her meds. She'd tell him that she'd rather her world didn't keep turning into chaos.
She'd rather be normal. She was the most normal person in her family. But it wasn't enough. She would never be as normal as everyone else. And the scars just made it worse. Sure, she laughed it off and told Jack to live a little whenever he found her drunk after yet another coworker came up with yet another stupid nickname but it bothered her more than anyone could ever know.
The reason she'd stopped taking her pills weeks ago had been because Michael saw her take them. It didn't do any good to stop taking them but she figured that it had been worth the try anyway.
And this was why she wondered if it would be such a bad idea to join Jack. She might even get some revenge in the process.