Ahead of the Curve in the Narrows

Song © Elvis Presley. I changed some of the lyrics to make more sense, but other than that, rights to him.

Explanation: Okay, I got the idea for this song after hearing "In the Ghetto" by Elvis Presley, and it kind of morphed into a 'how the Joker got his scars' story. But it's also the motivation that drove him to being crazy and stuff, and also stuff about his family and how his past kind of influenced him. I tried to incorporate stuff from his scar stories. JUST TO NOTE: NOT ALL SNAPSHOT THINGS ARE IN TIME ORDER!

Okay, I'll let you read it now. :)

As the snow flies
On a cold and gray Gotham mornin'
A poor little baby child is born
In the Narrows

Dana Napier held her newborn child in her arms. He had a good set of lungs in him. Her four-year-old boy, Jack, peered over the hospital railing to get a better look at his baby brother. She tilted the baby so Jack could get a better look. "What's his name gonna be mama?"

"I like the name Jason."

"Me too!" Her little boy smiled at her with a holey grin, having just lost his first tooth a week ago. She smiled a wobbly smile at him. He was so cute and full of life. If only things were different and they were out of this God-forsaken city. This new baby- Jason- was the fifth of her children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And his mama cries
'cause if there's one thing that she don't need
it's another hungry mouth to feed
In the Narrows

Dana cried silently that night as Jack slept on the couch in the hospital. Her husband had left again. He drank on and off and when it got bad he just up and left for better things and he wasn't seen for months on end. Then he'd back with cash in his pocket and a smile on his face and a promise that things would be different. How was she going to work with this baby? Her oldest girl, Maddy, was only eleven; Elsie, nine; Hannah, six; and Jack, four. They couldn't possibly all help out with the baby. Oh, why hadn't she listened to good sense and gone to college before getting married, or better yet, not gotten married at all? How could you make a go at life in the Narrows of Gotham?

Jack lay on the sofa, listening to his mother cry. Why is Mama crying? Is she sad? But the baby's here. She should be happy. Elsie told me that sometimes grown ups cry when they're happy too. But she doesn't sound happy. Maybe it's 'cause Daddy isn't here. I miss Daddy, but not when he's mean. He scares Mama when he's mean. Why does he have to go 'way? Why does everybody have to go 'way?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
People, don't you understand
the child needs a helping hand
or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day

At thirteen, Jack was a skinny boy, but he was still strong. He pushed nine-year-old Jason behind him as his father went off in one of his drunken rages. China crashed and their older sisters cried. Their parents were having a shouting match because Maddy, the oldest had run away with her boyfriend. "Any place would be better than here," she said before she left. Jack sometimes thought she was right.

Dana yelled when her husband picked up a knife and threw it at the wall. Jack ran out of the hall and grabbed his father's arm. "That's enough! Stop it!" Together he and his mother wrestled him into their bedroom and calmed him down. Jack fumed as he watched the big man fall asleep, full of the drink. The last time he had been drunk, he had hit both Dana and Jack, and Jack had almost hit him back. The only thing that stopped him was Hannah, who had grabbed his arm in a death grip and wouldn't let go. After that incident, she had told him, "Don't be stupid."

He had retorted, "How is standing up for myself stupid?"

Her mouth had a cynical twist to it. "Not against someone twice your size."

He had replied, "The whole world is twice our size. We don't get anything if we don't take it when we get the chance!"

Jason's eyes were dry. He did not like his father. He didn't like their next-door neighbors who heard all the shouting matches through the wall and then later judged them with their eyes. Sometimes, he didn't even like Jack, who tried hard to be the father figure in the family when their Dad left. He hated the Narrows. There was a reason it was called the narrows; the way out was so narrow, you couldn't get out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Take a look at you and me,
are we too blind to see,
do we simply turn our heads
and look the other way

Jason played with the blocks in kindergarten, full from his lunch. Mrs. Banks, his teacher, smiled at him. "You always play with the blocks, Jason. Are they your favorite?"

The little five-year-old nodded. "I like building stuff."

"What are you building now?"
"My house." He continued building a tall structure. "I'm done."

"Really? Is that your house?" the teacher asked inquisitively.

"Yes. That's our house." He pointed halfway up the building. "That's the Munsons' house." He pointed to the opposite side. "There's more people but I forget their names."

"That's nice, dear. It's almost nap time now."

"Why?" he whined.

"We always nap after lunch, you know that."

"I like lunch. I like chicken tenders."

"I know dear. Time for nap." The teacher herded him along with the other children to their mats.

"We only have cereal at home. I don't like cereal. I don't like it more when we have it for supper, and we've had it for three suppers this week."

"Nap," the teacher told him firmly, and flipped off the lights.

Later, Mrs. Banks would wonder what went on in Jason's home, and why they had cereal for supper, but she never asked again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well the world turns
and a hungry little boy with a runny nose
plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the Narrows

"Jason!" Jack yelled out into the street as dusk fell over the city of Gotham. "Get in here!"

Jason sniffed; his seven-year-old self was cold and tired, but still unwilling to listen to reason yet. "Five more minutes!" His team was winning.

"No! Mom says to come in. Do it or I'll come out and get you," Jack said uncompromisingly.

Jason wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his jacket and stomped his way up the apartment stairs, casting a regretful glance back at the game of kickball going on in the alley. He wasn't moving fast enough for eleven-year-old Jack, who grabbed him by his collar and frog marched him into the apartment. Their sisters were already at the table. "Go wash up," Jack commanded, pushing him in the direction of the sink. Their mother ladled soup into their bowls. "Tomato soup," she said. "Yum."

Thirteen-year-old Hannah muttered into her sleeve, "Yeah right." But Dana didn't hear.

Jason stared into his tomato soup and sniffed, as all little kids did when they didn't want to bother getting a tissue. He was hungry, so he dug in, but it always seemed like he found the bottom of his bowl too soon.

Jack stared at Jason while they ate dinner. His little brother had promise but he didn't listen to reason. He was obstinate and stubborn. Jack smiled inwardly, no idea where THAT comes from. Jack shoved his mop of blond hair out of his face. He wished he didn't have to play Dad to Jason. He wasn't supposed to have to be in charge! His father should be here. But not drunk, and not angry and yelling and violent. Jason didn't remember, but one time the police had been called because the yelling had been so loud and their father had a tendency to throw sharp objects when he was mad.

The truth be told, Jack despised the man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And his hunger burns
so he starts to roam the streets at night
and he learns how to steal
and he learns how to fight
In the Narrows

"Are you ready, Jason?" Fourteen-year-old Jason nodded to his friend Garrett as they waited in the dark alley. "Yeah." They headed out and walked to the train station and walked through the crowds of people coming home from work after a long hard day. Garrett shoved his way through the crowd, earning glares and muttered comments from the passengers. Jason followed silently afterward, slipping his hands into pockets and purses. Lightfingers, Lightfingers, feather-light lightfingers, he repeated to himself as the stuck the contents into his sweatshirt pocket. He met Garret outside the station and gave him his stash.

"Alright! Score! I knew you were going to be good the first time I saw you," Garrett told him, dumping out credit cards and ID's into a trash can and splitting the cash with Jason. "Let's go get a soda or something."

" 'Kay." Jason was worried. He didn't know what to do with all this money. If he started to spend it, Mom might not notice since she was always at work, but Jack kept pretty good tabs on him. He'd know, and he'd want to know how Jason got the money. Jason hadn't told him that he was hanging out with Garrett and some of the other guys who were into drugs and stuff like that. He might even find out that Jason snuck out of his window at night to do this kind of stuff with Garrett. "You know, maybe I better go back home. I don't want anybody to find out."

"Don't be such a wuss, Jason. I thought you were cool."

That turned Jason around. He didn't want Garrett to think he was a wimp. "Never mind."

They grabbed soda from a convenience store and stood drinking it on a street corner at midnight.

"Hey," a voice said from the shadows, "you're on our turf. Get off it."

"And what if we don't?" Garrett said, looking for a fight.

"We toss you off," the older boy said, throwing a punch at Garrett. They started punching each other, and another hoodlum came at Jason, swinging wildly. Jason threw his soda can at his face, and the boy retaliated by punching him in the stomach. Jason gagged and lashed out with his foot, connecting with the other guy's shin. More friends of the other boys appeared; Jason and Garrett were vastly outnumbered. By this time Jason's nose was bloody and his teeth felt wobbly.

"Jason! Catch!" Garrett threw him a small object, which he caught. It was a switchblade. Jason stared at it for a second before just barely evading a knockout punch. He flipped it open and started jabbing. Howls of pain erupted from the boys attacking them. Encouraged by this, Jason pressed forward, slicing and jabbing at arms and torsos.

A boy shrieked in pain; the switchblade had cut through the veins and tendons in his wrist and blood was spurting everywhere. Jason flinched as some of it hit his face.

All of a sudden, the boys were gone and Jason and Garrett were alone in the alley.

Garret laughed and wiped his blade on his jeans. "That sure told them! They won't mess with us anymore, huh Jason?"

Jason didn't respond; he was staring at the blood on his hands and on the knife. He let go and the knife clattered to the concrete. Starting to shake he said, "I need to go home."

"What? But"–

"I need to go home!" Jason yelled, running away, away from the alley. All the way home the scene replayed itself over and over, again and again. This is what you'll become if you stay, but you can never leave. This is the monster you will become, but it's unavoidable. This is the kind of life you'll lead. He got back to the apartment building; his window was shut. Oh, no. Sure enough, when he pushed open the door to the apartment, Jack was waiting up for him.

Eighteen-year-old Jack stared at his younger brother, obviously shaken, blood-splattered, and tired. He shook his head and told him, "I don't want to know. Go take a shower." Jason gave him an unbelieving look, and headed toward the bathroom to clean up. Jack pushed his blond hair back. He could guess what Jason had been up to. There were only a few options for teens in the Narrows, and crime was the most prevalent. Jack knew firsthand; he was tied up in gambling debts, owing quite a bit of money to the sharks. The only way he could repay it was to transport drugs for the mob. He hated the mob with a passion; they were men worth millions in illegal money, who did what they wanted with no thought to the people they effected. He hated the job he did, because it made him want to scream at the thought of the consequences from it. And Jack especially hated himself, because fate was so impartial, and yet so unfair. It seemed there was always a frown on Jack's face.

And Hannah asked him why he's so serious all the time.

Then one night in desperation
a young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
tries to run, but he don't get far

Seventeen-year-old Jason was in a glaring match with his sister, Hannah, the only girl still at home. "You need to do your homework."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, YOU DO. You can't graduate from high school if you have straight D's. You're a smart kid, you just don't turn anything in!" Hannah said, frustrated.

"What if I don't want to graduate?"

"You'd be the first in our family to not graduate from high school," she told him pointedly. "Everyone else has graduated, or at least gotten their GED."

Jason rolled his eyes, giving in. "Fine." He grabbed his math book and started doing problems. "Where's Mom?"

"Working," Hannah replied, glancing at the clock. It was around 8:40PM. "Late again."

They sat in silence; the only sound was of Jason's pencil scratching on paper and Hannah muttering at the old oven that burned practically everything.

Finally, at 9:17, a key in the lock was heard. "Finally," Hannah breathed, turning towards the door. Jason heard the creak of the door's hinges and Hannah's sharp intake of breath. The empty cup in her clattered to the floor; it was a good thing it was only Tupperware.

Jason swiveled in his seat to be confronted with Jack, holding a towel to his face, which was covered in blood.

"Jack!" Hannah gasped, running to him. "Oh my God, Jack what happened??"

Jason stood, shocked. He grabbed one arm and Hannah took hold of the other, leading him to a chair. "What happened?" Hannah asked again, flipping her hair over her shoulder impatiently. "Are you okay? Let me see," she said, trying to pull Jack's hands away from his face.

Are you blind?? Of course he's not okay. He's bleeding buckets, Jason thought angrily.

All this time Jack had been silent, but as Hannah rushed around pulling out first aid kits and towels, he began to shake. Jason looked at his brother with alarm, what was going on?

They finally realized: Jack was laughing. "Ha ha ha," he gasped out in a strange voice. "Now… I finally… see the funny side!" Jason felt cold inside; he had a good view of his brother's eyes, peeking out over the towel. They were dark and cold, filled with pain and anger and a strange light that Jason couldn't identify.

Hannah was working to make Jack let go of the towel. He finally let her pry his hands off the towel, and she carefully and gently peeled the blood-soaked towel away from his face.

Her eyes widened as she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Jason felt his stomach roll, threatening to heave his supper back up. Jack's cheeks were ripped, literally cut, from the corners of his mouth back to where his jawbone began, and they were bleeding sluggishly
Hannah immediately grabbed clean towels and tried to staunch the blood. "Jason, we need to get him to the hospital. Jack"–

"No! No hospitals!" Jack pushed her away roughly.

Hannah tried to reason with him. "Jack, you need to get the cuts sewn up, otherwise they won't heal right, you could get infections"–

"What, do you think I'm ugly? You think I'm disfigured, Han-nah?" Jack said, grabbing the first aid kit from her. "You said I don't smile enough just the other day. Well, now I'll always be smiling. Is that what you want-ed?"

"Jack!" Hannah pleaded with him, following him as he walked into the tiny bathroom and locked the door. "Jack!" She pounded on the door.

Jason stared at the bloodstained towels on the kitchen table, numb to the core. Finally, he picked them up and threw them in the trashcan. A Glasgow smile –on Jack. Why the 'ell had this happened?

Leaning against the door in defeat, Hannah pressed her forehead to the wood of the doorframe. She could hear Jack hiss and moan through the door. "Why won't you let me help you?!" she begged in a soft voice. "Please…"
It seemed like an eternity had passed before the lock clicked open and the handle slowly rotated under her hand. Hannah stepped back as Jack walked out of the bathroom, the cut edges of his mouth sewn up in large, sloppy stitches that bunched the cuts together and made lumps.

"Jack, it's going to scar! Please, let's go to the hospital and get it done right."

He spun around and pushed her against the wall; her back slapped the painted surface and stung.

"Are you saying that I'm not right? That I'm wrong, Han-nah? You always asked me to smile more." She bit her lip, staring over Jack's shoulder, watching Jason as he made a hasty retreat upstairs.

In his room, Jason had begun to panic. Someone had cut Jack's face because he was involved with crime; that must be it. Everyone in the narrows was involved with crime, one way or another. Someday, sooner or later, someone would come after him with a knife. He had to get away from this place, this neighborhood, and this city. Gotham was like a poison, and sooner or later it would infect everyone in it. He grabbed the hidden piston from its hiding place and figured he could hotwire a car to get over the bridges, at least. He stuffed some money and possessions into a duffle bag, tossed it over his shoulder, and ran from the apartment, not looking back.

Hannah felt a surge of anger as Jason ran out of the apartment, leaving her with her brother, who at this moment seemed like a compete stranger. But Jack was still talking.

"What's the matter, Han-nah? Is it because of the cuts?"

"Jack! Stop it! You're freaking me out!" She pushed him away and backed into the kitchen.

"Do you not like scars?"

"Jack, you're talking crazy!"

"We're all crazy. The Narrows makes people crazy. I'm just ahead of the general curve."

It was a good thing Dana walked in the door.

Jason pulled the stolen car into gear and pulled out of the parking garage, heart pumping like a piston and hands slick and slipping on the leather steering wheel. He would have made it out if the parking attendant hadn't stopped him. "Hey! What are you doing with that car?"

Oh, 'ell, he recognized the car. Jason slammed the accelerator and shot through the parking gate, not realizing that the tire shredders stood at attention, ready to cut the tires on his stolen car. Loud explosions filled the air as the tires popped! Jason wrenched the wheel reflexively and the car collided with a concrete pillar. Jason's head snapped back, then forward, smacking the wheel. He stumbled out of the crumpled car, dazed and seeing stars. Hearing voices approaching, he started to run the other way, clutching his gun tightly. Oh no oh no oh no…

"Stop! Police!"

Panicking, Jason weaved back and forth between cars. He finally reached street level and darted into traffic.

"Kid! Hey kid, look out!!!"

Bam.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers 'round an angry young man
face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the Narrows

The phone rang.

Dana looked around distractedly for it, stressed beyond belief. She had walked into her home to find her oldest son acting very strangely and sporting horrifying stitches on his mouth, her only daughter still at home frazzled, and her other son gone. She had immediately asked Jack what had happened, mustering concern even after working for twelve hours straight.

"The narrows happened! Gotham happened!" He laughed hysterically before pushing his way out of the apartment and running into the blackened night.

"Jack!" They had both called after him. But he hadn't answered.

And now the phone. "Hello?" Dana said, a note of overwhelming stress creeping into her voice.

"Ma'am, does a Jason Napier live at this address?"
"Yes, he does." Dana clutched the phone, her knuckles going white. "What's happened?"

"What relation are you to him, ma'am?"

"I'm his mother, his mother. Please, what's going on?"

The man at the end of the line seemed reluctant to tell her. He said with a voice filled with regret, "Ma'am, I'm sorry to inform you that your son has just died. Two police officers were pursuing him for car theft when he ran out into traffic and was hit by a car. He didn't suffer; he died instantly…ma'am? Are you still there? Ma'am?"

The phone fell from her hand and clattered to the countertop. Her eyes were glazed, and within them welled up a river of tears. Dana put her face in her hands and sank to the floor, sobbing.

"Mom? What's the matter? Mom?" Hannah begged, grabbing her mother's hands in her own. "Please tell me!"

The only thing Dana could continue to do was sob, shoulder shaking, gut wrenching sobs for the son she would never see again. She also cried for the son who she feared was lost to her forever, not physically, but lost just the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As her young man dies,
on a cold and gray Gotham mornin',
another little baby child is born
In the Narrows

Sergeant Jim Gordon walked into the hospital room carrying a bunch of roses for his wife. Barbara smiled at him, holding their four-day-old son in her arms. Gordon set the flowers down and kissed his wife. "Good news!" he crowed with happiness.

She laughed. "What could be better then Jimmy?" she asked, looking down at her son with joy.

"I agree, but this comes pretty close." He paused. "We got the loan."

Her face lit up like a star. "Really?!"

"Yes!" He gave her a big hug. "We can move out of the Narrows for good and into a better neighborhood."

"Praise God! Just think, Jim, now we can raise Jimmy in a safe place."

Gordon smiled at them both, the beginnings of a new family about to be transplanted from the rocky soil of the Narrows to the more fertile soil of a new home.

"It's a great turning point, Barbara, no question. The Narrows is no place to raise kids."

The End.

Yay! Second fanfiction. So, I'm past the sensitivity and nervousness that comes with posting your first fanfiction, so feel free to review. Tell me what I need to work on, or what you thought was lacking, or just what you liked. I want to be a better writer. Also, please tell me if you think I should change the rating from T to K+, I'm still a little unsure on the ratings, so I'm being safe. So I hoped you liked it, and please review! :D