From the last chapter, I wanna thank DarkHero87, 123Ekaterina, FoxDemon303, rikkukirst, nocoldwater, Hushabye, Gwenlynn, mischieflover, ryuzaki25, ThornInMySpine, and dreykar. :D


I stood motionless, seeming to be in a trace, while the man rolled around on the floor, yelling out in pain. Finally, I snapped out of it. Yes, it was indeed Jack. He looked almost the same as he did five years ago, but the green in his hair was gone, replaced with his natural light brown. He still had those chiseled features, but they matured a few years. The scars were still there, and they were more pronounced because he wore no make up to cover them.

The can of pepper spray dropped from my hand when Jack stood up from the floor. I should have picked up the nearest blunt to chuck at him, but I didn't. I was kind of paralyzed. "Oh my God," he moaned, rubbing his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!," I exclaimed.

"That was very painful, George," he said. I saw his eyes, they were red and watering.

I didn't know whether to be scared or angry. "Why did you break into my apartment in the middle of the night?"

"To come see you, of course!," Jack said, attempting to make the conversation light.

I placed my hands on my hips and tapped a foot. "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?" Sitting on a table next to me, I noticed a small antique jewelry box I bought a while ago. The thing was intricately carved and was made out of solid brass. It was heavy, so I picked it up. "Don't you try to play games with me." I lifted up my arm, ready to hurl it at him. "You're on the FBI's most wanted list! Get the hell out of here!" In that moment, I felt like a psycho ex-wife.

Jack put his arms up, as if guarding his head. "The Joker is wanted, not me! I'm Jack!"

"You still escaped, and you're gonna be fucked when the cops get here," I said, rushing to the night stand where my cell, phone sat. I flipped it open, ready to dial 911, but Jack grabbed my shoulders and turned me around to face him.

"Just listen to me," he said in a soft voice. "I just need to talk to you. I know sneaking in here in the middle of the night is really sketchy, but just hear me out." He took the phone from my hand and snapped it closed, then grabbed the jewelry box and placed it on the night stand.

I glared at him with angry eyes. "You have ten seconds," I said. "Or I kick you out myself."

"Arkham's changed me, George. A lot. The Joker isn't here anymore. It's just me. Jack Napier."

I shrugged out of his grip and scoffed. "You expect me to believe that?" I laughed a little bit. "You still think of me as the same naive teenage girl, don't you?"

"Please, you need to listen to me!," he pleaded

"I don't need to do anything. Now get the fuck out of here!," I yelled, not particularly caring if I woke my neighbors. I strolled over to the front door and Jack followed me.

"Come on, it's been five years. I'm a changed man," he pleaded again.

I calmed myself down. "Just leave," I said, practically a whisper.

Jack let out a sigh and opened the door. "Fine, but this isn't over. I'll be back," he angrily said, then slammed the door behind him.

I jumped and stood there, surprised. "Uh, what just happened?," I asked myself.


Indeed, it wasn't over. Jack stuck to his word and came back. Multiple times, actually. Here's what went down:

Day one: I went out for a walk and sure enough, I ran into Jack.

"Hey," he said, as if talking to a friend.

I didn't say anything. Instead, I walked right past him.

"George," he called after me. "Can you just take the time to visit me at my house?"

"Oh yeah right."

"Please!"

"Absolutely not." I quickened my pace, leaving Jack in the dust.

Day two: I was cleaning my apartment when someone knocked on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw Jack on the other side. "Oh for God's sake," I muttered.

I opened the door and placed my hands on my hips. "What?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before any words came out.

"No," I stated, and slammed the door in his face, making sure to lock it.

Day three: On that morning I was in my bathroom shaving my legs, when I heard someone knocking. "Damn it," I said, wiping off the shaving cream and slipping on a bathrobe.

I glanced out the peephole, and much to my chagrin, I saw Jack.

"Well hello. Did I catch you at a bad time?," he said with raised eyebrows, noting my clothes, or lack thereof.

I pulled the robe tight around my chest and crossed my arms. "Actually, you did. And for the record, anytime you come around here is a bad time." I began to close the door, but Jack slapped a hand across it.

"Seriously, just let me talk to you. I hate bothering you all the time, but I'll keep coming here until you agree with my previous statement."

That kind of shocked me. Was it a threat? Well, I took a moment to think of an answer. "If I agree, will you stop showing up at my door?"

He gave off a sly smile. "Well, I can't guarantee that, but it can't hurt your chances."

Sighing, I said "Fine, I'll stop by tomorrow."

"I can't wait to see you," he said with a smile. It was kind of creepy.

He gave me his address and left. "What am I getting myself into?," I asked myself.


The next day, I hopped in my Escalade (that's right, a nice Escalade. I've always wanted one, and I finally had enough money to buy one), and drove to the address scribbled down on a Post-It. And it took me forever to find the stupid place, because it was located in a densely populated neighborhood of huge, old houses in a tree-lined area outside the city.

I turned onto the long, winding driveway of what I was sure was 16 Palmer Lane, and stared at the massive, imposing mansion standing defiantly before me. "Holy shit," I said. The place looked Victorian and neglected for years, due to the overgrowth of weeds and vines. The facade of the house was a brown-colored exterior, with intricate carvings on the dark wooden trim. The stained glass windows were faded, but not broken.

I sat in my car, thinking I could just back out and drive away. But Jack would probably come back to harass me. Might as well get this over with. And if anything happens, I have that can of pepper spray with me.

Sighing, I stepped outside and looked around. The house was situated on a hill that looked out over the city across the bay. The sky was covered in a thick layer of clouds, and a light mist came down. The temperature was chilly, very strange for August, so I pulled the zipper on my tight-fitting sweatshirt up. I ascended the stairs, and came face to face with the huge wooden door. I picked up the brass knocker and tapped it against the door. The door creaked open and I jumped back in surprise. What a horror movie cliche, I thought.

I peaked my head inside because no one was around. "Hello?," I called out. No one answered, so I carefully stepped inside, closing the door behind me quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence. "Hello?," I asked again. Nope, no one.

I stared in wonder at the interior of the house. The foyer was large and open, but the stained glass windows didn't bring in any light. The air smelled musty, as if no one had placed a foot inside for years. I ran a hand across the top of a closed piano, and the dust collected on my palm. A grand main staircase with an oriental carpet running up and down caught my attention. Just looking at it, I half-expected to see Rose coming down, and Jack Dawson waiting at the foot of the stairs. The whole room belonged to another era. I thought I had the wrong house.

At least I thought so, until I turned around, admiring my surroundings, when a face came close to mine. "Jack! You scared the shit out of me," I said.

"I seem to have that effect on you, don't I," he said, smirking. "Come on, I'll show you around."

I warily tagged along. I glanced over at the front door. I could have ran, but I didn't.


Jack brought me out to the courtyard. The dark and cloudy sky added to the creepy atmosphere of the long-dead gardens and dried-up fountains, The angelic statues on the fountains seemed to be staring at us.

"So what do you think of my home?," Jack asked.

"It reminds me of the house in Rose Red," I said. "You didn't buy it, did you?"

He laughed at my question. "When one has a reputation like mine, one doesn't have to buy much."

I rolled my eyes. "I should have known. So what did you want to talk about that was so important?"

Jack took my hand. "George, those five years spent in Arkham changed me. I know it sounds crazy, but the Joker is long gone."

I stared at him. Then I started laughing. "You think a few years in a psychiatric hospital rid you of your Joker persona? Should I feel insulted? Because I think you're calling me stupid." I yanked my hand away from his.

"It's true though! I thought you would be the only person who believed me. Don't you remember that moment we had?"

I recalled that time spent locked in the back room of the nightclub, with the photograph and the kiss. "Out of all people, why would I believe you? You kidnaped me!"

Jack's voice grew quieter and his eyes pleaded with mine. "George, I need you." Then, his lips fell on mine, and his arms wrapped around my back. He ran his tongue across my bottom lip, and I let it in. My hands grabbed the sides of his face, bringing him closer to me, breathing in his scent, sinfully enjoying every second.

Oh God, what was I doing? I finally realized it and I pulled away, abruptly ending the kiss. "Jack, what are you doing?"

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." He wrapped his arms around my waist. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you."

I pushed myself away from him. "I can't do this. I have a boyfriend. There's no way I'm getting involved in this." I made a run for the exit.

"George, wait!," Jack called after me.

"No! You're still the Joker and you'll always be the Joker!"


"Fine, you want the Joker, then you can have him," he said, breaking out into a fit of laughter. "Toots."