Ledger!Joker x Hero!Reader: We Can Fix This PT 1
You were sick. There was nothing more to say then you were sick. You were going to die, unless they could find a cure. A cure was harder to find then the identity of Batman as you soon found out.
You were sitting in the doctor’s office, shortly after you both found out. Your soon to be husband, Jack, was sitting on a chair, head in his hands clearly exhausted as you both were trying to process this. You just stared at the floor. Both of you sat in silence, what the hell were you to say?
“Jack.” You look over at him.
He finally looks up, it was clear as day that he had been crying, he looked like a mess but he made an attempt to smile at you.
“Yeah Baby?” His voice was quieter than yours.
“We can get through this.” You reached out and grabbed his hand, he held on to yours tightly.
He only smiled, but you both felt like no matter what you would do would never be enough. But it only started from there.
The soft smiles, constant kisses, soft touches would lead to anger, fighting, crying and screaming at the top of your lungs at each other due to the constant state of death. With every day that passed by you both felt it, the sickness, your illness slowly grab a hold of you and take you, touch you where Jack couldn’t reach.
He was watching you die, and it drove him mad. His anger changed him, he started stealing, causing problems, fighting and getting involved with the wrong crowd. You would fight with him, try to snap him out of this hate fest you both were having. It didn’t work, as you grew worse, so did he. He changed his dark brown curly locks to an emerald green. You didn’t mind it, it never bothered you, as you would dye your hair some unnatural shade as well every now and again. He came home one night, you couldn’t sleep since you kept coughing, have nose bleeds, and felt warm all over. His face was bleeding, you ran over to him.
“Jack, what-what happened? Tell me what happened? what did you do?” You started to cry, wiping blood off with your shirt. He had two scars along the side of his mouth, both cut deep, jagged and bloody. He didn’t say anything, you assumed that he was in pain. You pulled him off his knees as tried to take him to the hospital. He wouldn’t let you. He never told you why, or how he got them. You knew he happened to be hanging around a mob, which one who knew, what he did he never said. He didn’t need too. You knew.
“Please just, whatever you’re doing just stop, please.” You begged him. This was a few weeks after that night. He had bandages around his mouth, he would resort to hand writing notes or signaling with his hands, sometimes sign language since you both started to learn it because you didn’t know how bad this would be.
He shook his head and quickly wrote you a note: I’m doing this for you
He didn’t realize how much that hurt you, he was getting beaten, cut up and hurt or possibly worse, doing illegal shit for a group who would never see the man you saw, to save you, to try to save you. You were slowly accepting death, but he didn’t, he wouldn’t.
“Jack.” You say, pushing some hair from his face, you could see he was trying not to cry once more. He would never admit it, but he hated seeing you like this, he hated when you both talked about this, your illness.
You cupped his face in your hands, being gentle to to not hurt him. “You have to accept this, you have to let me go.”
He shook his head, you started to cry. “No”
You heard him say, “Im not letting you go.”
“Then stay with me, please, until the end.”
He shook his head, “always”
He removed the bandages, his face was healed as best as it would get. He had two thick scars, forcing him to smile every time he saw his reflection. For awhile he hated it, wouldn’t look at you, or touch you, but you held his hand and promised no matter how bad things would get you would always love him. He would smile, a genuine one, roll his eyes and give you that look creating the idea that he was annoyed but in reality he loved every bit of it.
He continued to act different, still he loved you and he would show it, late at night if you were awake or during the day at the oddest of times. You being sick and him being distant wasn’t stopping your love life.
You were laying in bed, tired. Jack out, once again, but this time he would be gone for a lot longer then what you wished for. He came back, later that night. You saw that he was wearing a purple suit, which you laughed, which made him laugh. It was the first time you both laughed like that in months.
“What the hell?” You ask, “I mean it looks good on you, but why?”
“I thought it looked fitting.” He smirked laying in bed next to you.
“You look like a Joke, as what my grandma would say.” You smirk.
“Wasn’t I always good at that though? making you laugh?” Jack started to play with your hair.
“Yeah you always were a real Joker.” You smile.
He robbed a bank, more specifically, a mob bank. He got five criminals killed in the process. He stole a bus and a bunch of money, which went for supplies, but mostly a cure for you. You found this out as were drinking some tea watching the news. You saw his familiar green hair, that suit of his, now he wore face paint, red around his lips, outlining his scars more then normal, dark black paint around his already dark eyes and the rest of his face was white. He looked interesting, but at first you were terrified, you didn’t think that that man, was your Jack. It was, he even went by the name the Joker now.
You ran your hands through your hair, you looked over at the newspaper. Batman was now trying to find him, trying to take him out. You realized that Jack would never stop, he would keep on going and trying to find a way to save you because you both knew how much in denial he was about your nearing death. He would burn Gotham for you, and you knew this, he knew this. Batman couldn’t stop him, he didn’t know him, but maybe, maybe you could. You decided to become another masked hero, in order to stop the man you love from destroying your home.
2087
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