SCARS WE SHARE
CHAPTER 15: The Beginning

We are almost there my god. It has certainly been a long journey and this will officially be the first fiction I have completed! (Sad to say, no?) I am extremely thankful for each and every one of you for putting up with my longevity and frequent absences. Sometimes it is difficult to find that inspiration, until you look deep into yourself and find you've had it all along. The characters may seem a little OC as I haven't written in what is it now, two years? Holy balls. This ending has been so difficult to get down onto paper (or word doc) after swimming around in my brain fluid for quite some time. This is not the last last chapter, but it is the second before last? Maybe third, depending on how it goes. As always, I hope you enjoy and that it will all make sense for you in the end!

Disclaimer: I own the inspired thought of Bill Kane, a character created in reference to Bob Kane, the original artist and Bill Finger the co-creator, for giving birth to the idea of the Joker. Mario Falcone belongs to the DC Universe as do the rest of the characters.

So, here we go…!

"Meet me...

And bring her with you."

The anticipation gripped at his heart heavily as he continued his driven journey to the outskirts of the city. He could almost feel sick and faint, but he reminded himself to keep on. The billionaire gazed to his side at the sleeping infant in the front seat. Having no idea as to what he would expect, he found himself being the most scared he has ever been.

This is…

This is it…

Ha…

Bruce chuckled quietly at his own thought process to keep himself busy.

I don't know what this is.

I've panicked, I've been anxious before, worried to death about Rachel…

But, no.

This is it, facing everything I've ever encountered previously. And him, making everything so very…

Different.

Change; it's what we all are afraid of I guess.

He turned onto Willow boulevard, sucking in a deep breath.

But…

Somehow, I know that everything will be okay.

"Uhnn…"

Wincing, the weary blond balanced his palm against the old oak tree as he helped himself to the ground. His shoulders dropped in relief as he laid back upon its trunk, feeling his energy drain from his whole. He sniffed the air around him, taking a peek behind him as dark billows of smoke erupted from behind the tree line.

He could vaguely begin to hear the sirens in the distance.

Hurry up… you don't have much time.

Jack peeked down at his shirt, laying open at his chest and peeled back the balled up cloth held against his wounded side. Drying blood began to crust on his skin from the gaping flesh wound, the cloth becoming soggy rapidly. He frowned, setting it back in place and heaved a few more swallows of air.

Only a little bit more, Jack, and you're done…

He was sure he could hear the fire trucks now and painfully pulled himself up from his resting place.

Bruce Wayne slowed his car on the asphalt street, peeking out of the window to either side. Sirens were coming up ahead.

"Dear god, Jack, what have you gotten into…" He muttered to himself in disbelief as he curved on the banking, seeing the bright orange flames erupting from the black tree line half a mile ahead: his supposed destination. His instinctive feeling drew him away from the blaze ahead, turning right into a forested two lane back road a few meters ahead.

He gulped down the fear rising in him.

This isn't a trap…

Jack wouldn't do that.

Would he?

His gut knotted, a form of intuition telling him to remain calm.

No, he's running… just like before.

He's not there.

The orange tinted sky tilted back and forth in his eyes, the colors overlapping and becoming hazy with the tunnel of trees he trudged through. The dryness gripped at his throat, and as he breathed in heavy gasps of air, he realized the burning smell was coming from himself. Vaguely, he remembered the eruption, the towers, and the blistering fire in the sky.

So…

This is Hell…

As much as he wanted, his body refused to let him chuckle. He coughed severely, fighting the trigger in his lungs as he began half sobbing and laughing.

I've lost my mind.

He regained himself, and smiled through the haze that became brighter by the second.

This is it.

The sun setting overhead glared the brightest white into his eyes, engulfing the world in an explosion of light. He staggered on his feet, and fell back.

-
THE BEGINNING
-

Darkness and light

Light and dark

Jack Napier allowed his eyes to shut for what he presumed would be his last, the world freezing in the moment. He was enveloped, a sensation of himself being torn from his body, a supernal energy washing over. Flashes of light projected his memories before his sight.

Flash

"A little fight in you… I like that."
"Then you're gonna love me!"

Flash

"It…looks like an embryo… You're pregnant, Jack."

Flash

"'Jack'… Is it an acceptable name?"

Flash

"They're not afraid anymore. They know it's safe to take the locks off their windows again. I've never seen Gotham so calm before…"

"You're right, Jack. It is beautiful…"

Flash

"I'm not going to kill you, Alfred… And I'm not going to kill him. I need to finish what I started."

Flash

"What are you doing here?"

"Visiting family."

Flash!

"Are you there...?"

Hmm... of course... you're always there.

"You have summoned me...?" A low voice rasped through the void.

"This is it, isn't it? The end?"

The bloody-grinning Reaper did not reply.

"Am I dead...?"

"Not yet." The being replied, trilling the last word. Black ooze began seeping from the corners of the figure's hideous maw, as it grinned… the creature's flesh growing tendrils of golden hair, and Jack remembered.

He remembered the bathroom sink, the mirror.

He remembered his hands trembling, his eyes going wild.

He was eighteen, alone, and unhinged.

The blood still lingered on his fingers; a sallow body sprawled in the bathtub.

The phone was ringing, a dispatcher answering, yet earning no reply.

Harnessing the blade in his right and hooking his fingers in his lower lip, he took one last glance at his unblemished face in the mirror.

Black eyes, and a red smile stared back at him…

Cloaked in a black robe.

Yes. That's how it really happened…

He remembered tearing into his own flesh with the razor -sharp blade, the hot blood leaking down his chin and neck, coating the back of his tongue.

The possessed monster continued to deform his face, the paramedics arriving nearly too late at the gruesome scene.

He found himself standing in front of the being, the Reaper a reflection of the negative side of his brain.

"You're part of me..."

The supernal creature smiled hideously. "I am a part of everyone. Jaaack Naaapieeer..." he could hear it cackle wickedly, sending shivers down his spine.

Death was close, he could feel it in his weighty chest. Gulping down the ball in his constricting throat, he pushed the fear of his death out of his mind. He thought of his friends, if he were ever merited the honor to call them friends. Bill had been so kind… And…

"Bruce... will he suffer because of my demise?"

"Yes." The Reaper seethed.

Jack gulped, rigidity clenching his jaw tight. "And my daughter... will she perish because of me?" He looked into the creatures black hollow eyes, the Joker's makeup flashing in his vision, tears rolling down his mutilated cheeks.

"Don't take her... Don't take her, please." He knelt in front of it, pleading as sobs wracked his body. "I never wanted any harm for her. Take me instead. I couldn't let it happen again."

"Your death does not serve any purpose."

"You're sparing me...?"

"Your life holds greater value alive than dead..." The rasp in the voice calmed, more human than monster. More familiar than strange… It was his.

"The Joker…" Jack repeated his alter ego's name, its meaning draining away from his regard.

"Fix what you've caused. And you will fix the effect."

"One last thing..." He stood, his world shaking from its foundations just as it had before in his dream. "What are you? And why did this happen?"

The supernal image spread out its arms. The voice was his. "I am a reflection that your mind can apprehend and accept, I am the embodiment of the turmoil you carry. I am Death and I am Light. I am your thoughts, I am your eyes, the nightmares that haunt your sleep, the questions you always seek, the desire to fill your most haunting wishes, and the freedom you seek. This is our journey. This is our covenant."

"Then you just set this whole thing up."

"No. You did."

Jack stumbled on his feet, a feeling as if tilting backwards would drag him straight down to Hell as the supernal image of himself shook in his brain as if caught in an earthquake, a fire singeing in his lungs.

"Jack... you know what you have to do."

"Jack..."

"Jack."

…

"Jack. Come on Jack… I know you're there. I know you're in there…" The young billionaire tapped his fingers on the blond's charred cheek. He knelt down, holding up Jack's body and looked into his unresponsive face.

"I know you're alive, now, no pretending."

He bit his lower lip as a dark feeling welled inside of him.

No!

He shook his head.

"Jack, I swear… Come on…"

Bruce held his head in his hands, tapping his palm a little harder. The blond stirred against his hand, gradually regaining consciousness. The faded tan color returned to the still pale cheeks, Jack opening his eyes to his uncaped crusader.

The brunet's flushed lips tugged into a smile. "Jack…?"

"What took you so long…" The young man rasped out through his parched throat.

Bruce Wayne bit on his trembling lower lip. "You're terrible with directions."

Jack attempted to smile, his being washed over with euphoria at the sight of his hero looming over him. he reached up, touching the tanned cheek. The dream illusion shattered, he awoke to his reality. Bruce cupped his hand. "I'm here, Jack."

He was too weak to hold up his head, yet the pain and exhaustion were numb to him. "I'm sorry I drugged you…"

"Nonsense, we'll talk about it later. Let's get you up."

Jack rambled, his mind still wrapping around his rebirth. "I didn't want to do it, I mean I was gonna anyway…" Bruce hooked his arms around Jack. "But I knew you'd try to stop me."

"I know. Shush." The young billionaire smiled. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

He nodded gently in response, draping his arm lazily over the brunet's shoulders as he was lifted up into the strong embrace. The world around him danced as he traveled in and out of consciousness, noting that he was carried and placed into the cool leather seat of his hero's car.

Bruce started the towncar and began to drive away from the area, the afternoon sky tainted a black smoke.

"Are you all right? Jack? You still with me?"

"Huh… Yeah, I'm here. Where are we headed?" He peered out the window and checked the rear view mirror.

"Kane's. I think you need some pretty good stitching up."

"You forget I'm my own seamstress…" He sighed. "Make a left on the next light. I need to run an errand…."

"We're here." Bruce announced, silently shifting the town car to park. Jack was unmoving in his passenger seat, his nerves attacking him from the inside out. The billionaire had noticed something strikingly different about Jack this time, yet he couldn't put a finger on it. The Joker seemed to be afraid, or anxious.

It showed in his shaky voice. "Bruce…?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me something, okay…"

He attempted to look into the dark eyes, who shied away from him. "Okay, Jack. That really depends on what you want." He whispered as dread washed over his core.

He licked his dry lips. "Just promise me that you won't ask me why."

A tight feeling compressed in his gut, the nerves sending apprehensions down his back. "Okay, I promise."

Jack peered out the window, and swallowed the gulp of air in the back of his throat, hyperventilation creeping up on him quickly. "Take the girl… room 209."

The words echoed over and over into his mind, until they finally found meaning, the words sinking in like an anvil at the bottom of a lake. Bruce gently squeezed Jack's bloody hand, and swallowed the ball in the back of his throat, unbuckling his seatbelt. Jack laid against the headrest, shutting his eyes as he listened to the young brunet exit the car and open the rear door, unclipping every fastener from the carseat.

Bruce gazed upon the sleeping baby one more time, his heart torn at the gentle slumbering face. Knowing Jack could not bear to see her, he gathered the carrier in his arms and stepped away from the car.

As much as he refused, he understood Jack's notions, his reasoning. Pushing his own new found love for the infant aside, he came to the green motel door marked 209, knowing he could change his mind at any moment.

He could feel it.

It crept up his forearms, an icy-cold chill running the length of his spine. It was like a phantom in his mind, tempting him to keep her—his own test of will. His heart set on Jack and his bond to him, Bruce held in his breath, and knocked.

Bruce was back in the car a minute later; Jack hardly even moved as he kept his dark eyes closed. Bruce went to start the car, desperate to leave the scene as fast as possible.

"Wait."

Jack raised his chin and peered over the door panel, as the green motel door opened.

"Robert! Robert! Come here!"

"What?"

"L-look…"

"What is it… oh.. Oh my God… Is that a..?"

"Mmmhm."

"Whose is it?"

"I don't know, someone just knocked on the door and there's this baby!"

"Wow… She looks only a few weeks old.. Looks healthy though, this is a nice crib… but who would do something like this?"

"I don't know. Should we call somebody?"

"They seem like good people…" Bruce whispered, gently touching Jack's leg.

"Yeah, they do."

"Let's go home, Jack." He patted him and flashed the clown a smile.

"Sounds like a plan."

Jack felt at peace, watching the door to the motel room shut as the little one began her own journey. He laid his head back on the head rest, watching out the window as Bruce pulled the car away. From his view in the passenger seat, Jack caught sight of the dark robed being, the Grim Reaper standing on the fountain at the causeway.

Its face was cloaked, its slate wiped clean, the scythe glinting new metal. The hooded creature turned, and for a moment, Jack and the being stared into each other, and a bony hand waved, as is saying, "We will meet again…."

Jack shut his eyes, and allowed his heavy shoulders to fall as he succumbed to the realm of the unconscious. The unmasked vigilante driving gazed over at the sleeping figure, and gave his hand a warm squeeze.

"I'll get you back safe..." He said, pulling onto the freeway that would lead them home.

Bruce parked the car on the side of the secluded road, stepping out in time for Bill Kane and Alfred Pennyworth to come trotting down the front steps, rushing to their aid.

"Is he alive?" Alfred asked, unnerved by the appearance of the mutilated young blond.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, but he's lost a lot of blood and no doubt has inhaled a lot of smoke."

Bill shook his head, lifting the unconscious form of Jack onto his chest. "He needs an emergency room..."

"We can't afford that risk, you know it."

Bill could hardly hide the uncertainty in his tone. "Maybe I have an oxygen tank somewhere in here..."

"Good morning, Sunshine."

Jack blinked his eyes awake, finding them weighed down by his own exhaustion. He then noticed the rubber mask around his nose. He breathed in the soothing oxygen a few heavy gulps before he realized he was in a hospital!

He pushed himself off his elbows, when suddenly a wave of stinging pain tore at his middle. He fell back groaning.

"Jeez, you never stop to think anymore do you?"

Jack looked around, bewildered as he noticed the familiar dreadful wallpaper-

"You're at my place, dipshit. Don't worry, no narks here."

"Bill...?"

"Well who the hell did you think I was?"

"I don't... I don't know." Jack wheezed another breath and laid down, covering his face with the mask again as he took in his surroundings.

"That's a good boy. Stay still, might hurt a little more now that you're awake."

Jack looked at the old man's handiwork on his butchered side.

"Not a bad job..." he remarked, his voice hollowed by the mask.

Bill thread the line through his torn flesh, drawing the needle into another part of his body.

He hissed and bit his lip. "Ow."

"Ow is right. What made you think getting chopped up was a good idea?"

"I had to take care of some things."

Bill snapped his finger onto Jack's forehead, stunning him. "Well obviously you had to do some things. I'm asking why you did them."

Jack rolled his head over, mulling it over.

"You can't escape this time, Jack."

"All right you old quack." Jack smirked over, earning a smile from Bill. And a tug on the sutures.

"Hey, ow!" He winced, and then relaxed back, removing the oxygen mask. "I went to Falcone's... I couldn't let the same pattern keep unfolding."

"Mario is the one who did this to you?"

He nodded.

"Jack, you know you can't keep going back-"

"This was the last time."

Bill exhaled through his nostrils, giving him the concerned parent look. "Jack, I have heard you say that before-"

"I killed him. And I burned his manor down to the very last oil painting."

"Jesus Jack..." The old man swallowed, a burning bile rising in his esophagus. "The man had a family..."

"I know."

The fire had engulfed the upper levels of the Falcone mansion more rapidly than he expected, as he dropped off the last of the supplies in the mangled crime lord's office. Jack covered his nose and mouth from the suffocating billows of smoke as they erupted around him. Dragging himself through the home and down the two flights of steps, he weaved himself through the haze.

He came upon the cellar door, pressing his ear to the wood.

Satisfied, he removed the handgun from his belt, firing two rounds into the door handle—

-Screams heard from the other side.

Heeling the door open, he found himself gazing into the terrified eyes of the two maids and children, an older woman with wavy black hair stepping out of the shadows. Tears streaked down her flushed cheeks as she looked upon him, and the deadly weapon held within his grasp. Her lips trembled as she barely whispered, "Is it over…?"

The two stared at one another for a moment, the tension causing the maidens to worry for their lives. Jack inhaled a deep breath, and let the gun slip from his fingers and fall to the concrete floor. Instead, he reached into his back pocket and removed a black object, holding it out to her.

"Get the hell out of here. And call the police."

He dropped the phone into her offered palms, "Tell them what I did to you. And to look into your late husband's office." Finished, he backed away and twisted around, leaving the widowed woman and her children in their collapsing home.

"Jack!" She cried out, chasing a few steps after him. He stopped, but did not dare turn. She licked her parched lips, Jack swallowing the lump in his throat. Shirlena Falcone stared at his back, the truth of the past all becoming clear to her now. She clutched the black cellphone in her hand tight, sure that it was the last time she would ever hear from him. "I'm sorry, Jack."

He closed his eyes at the words, knowing he would remember them for years to come. He nodded back to her, hearing the rattling in his chest as he spoke only two words.

"Me too."

The two Wayne family members relaxed in the sunken couch before the television screen as they sipped tea.

Alfred patted Bruce's leg. "A long day, Brucie?"

The billionaire looked over, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He nodded and bowed his head into his guardian's chest.

"I know, Master Wayne. I think everything will turn out all right this time around."

"...And if you're still with us, live, from the late Carmine Falcone's mansion is beyond repair, the fire that started an hour ago has already engulfed half the entire place. I hope there are no people in there..."

Bruce sat up from Alfred, leaning towards the television as he turned it up.

Fire fighters gathered in the foreground, attempting to stall the incredible blaze. The wooden beams of the framing crumbled in ashes, bursting into sparks as it hit the charred ground. And suddenly, a sound that halted all in their tracks, rendering the reporter silent.

Screams.

"What was that...?" The male reporter whispered, as the screams got louder, and audible.

The scene burst into action, paramedics and firemen rushed off screen, the cries melding into that of women. A moment later, and a yellow clad fireman emerged from the blaze, with four figures.

Bruce was sitting on the edge of his seat.

A dark haired woman, Shirlena Falcone was led first, grasping the hands of her young son and daughter. Behind them were two of the Falcons family's servants, still wearing their tarnished maid dresses.

"Ma'am, Miss, Miss… excuse me..." the reporter burst forward, rudely shoving the microphone in her face. "Can you tell us what happened here?"

She looked up at him in fearful, saucer sized irises. "The Joker did this... He's here…" She muttered in horror, "He's here, he's here, he's here!"

The camera faltered, the reporter stuttering.

"Sir you need to move away, this is a crime scene." An officer interrupted the broadcast as he stepped into the frame, ushering the news team away. "Go on, git your cameras out of here!"

"Are you all right now, son…?"

"Yeah, sure…" Jack muttered, licking the dryness off his lips. It was only now that he noticed the aches as they ebbed into his body, reminding himself that he was in fact alive. The old man's blue eyes searched into the boy's soul, pity poking at his heart.

"Lay back." He spoke softly. "This is going to sting a bit." He eased him back down, pushing the oxygen mask back into Jack's hands. "Use it." He instructed, leaning in to dab the sutures with an antiseptic. "So, Jack. Did you find her some place safe…?"

He avoided Bill's stare, looking to his blood crusted fingers. "I think so." He muttered.

"Do you want to tell me why you did it?"

His eyesbrows furrowed, a frown pulling the edge of his mouth down. He wanted to speak.

Bill expected not all questions would be answered, now or never and patted his arm. "You know, it takes a lot of guts to do what you did out there, Jack. I know it took a lot out of you."

"Not even so, Doc. I just wan…" He trailed off quietly.

"Wanted to be a father." Jack shot his head up; Bill squeezed his hand. "Shh. I know."

His pulse thumped in his chest. The deed was over, yet everything still lingered. He still felt empty.

"She… She deserved something else, Bill. Outside of this chaos that I entangle myself in. She would be burdened by mysteries of her origin, be hidden from the public in order to keep her safe, disguise her from the FBI and keep her safe… And. And these." He motioned towards the scars on his cheeks. "Would haunt her nightmares."

"I…. see…" Bill attempted a smile as he cut strips of dressing tape and applied them around the sutured gash. "Jack, maybe you don't understand now, but you will someday. I knew there was something different about you, despite what everyone sees on the tele." Jack was watching him now. "When you came to me, on that night, stumbling upon my porch with a newborn in your arms, you made sure she was safe and in my hands before you blacked out… You got a lot of spirit, kid."

The blonde nodded his head slowly, grief stepping in and out of the threshold of his mind. Bill calmly reached his arm around Jack's shoulders, bringing him into a maternal hug. The first touch burned the erect pores upon his skin, and were then soothed by a warm tingling sensation.

Huh…. Maybe this is what its supposed to be like.

He quietly let out a chuckle, looking up from the doctor's chest. "Bill… You spread one little word about this, you're done." Jack warned as a playful disclaimer before he sighed and began. "…I can't remember much of my life before the Falcone's… Wife, there was no wife. Father, there was no father. You wanna know how I got these scars? I did it. I'm the one." He sucked on his lower lip, tonguing the scar in the middle. "I don't know why… or how exactly I came to be here. Maybe I had a family, or a mother or… Bill…?" His voice rattled. "You're the closest thing I've had to a father…"

The doctor gently raked his fingers over Jack's hair, "Oh shh, shh… What on earth has gotten into you…? Have you hit your head too hard?"

"Kane…"

"Alright, alright. I accept. And you must be the son I wish I never had. How does that sound?" He rustled the hair, chuckling to himself. Jack edged himself away, a smile perking the upper corners of his lips.

"Better."

"Now, Jack… Don't fret now, you may have another chance someday, so next time I think a little bit of planning is necessary-"

"No offense, Doc…" Jack interjected as he straightened his back. "I think I've had enough 'planning' for one lifetime. Sometimes, you just gotta let things go."

Stay tuned…

(TBC)