Okay, here we go, guys! This was so fun to write! :D

Liam and Susan had been arguing for a half hour straight—a rare occurrence for them. As soon as he got home from school, David ran upstairs, looking excited. "They're talking about you!" he said to Lily, who was sitting on the floor brushing her doll's hair. "Don't you want to hear what they're saying?"

She frowned at him. "Mommy told me it's wrong to snoop."

David groaned and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Lily. Are you a scaredy-cat?"

She shook her head, torn between proving herself and obeying her mother. "No, I'm not," she finally said.

"Then let's go!" David ran out of the room and Lily slowly followed him.

The two children kneeled at the door to the living room, David pressing his ear up against the wood.

"…dangerous for her to be there by herself," Liam was saying. "She's not listening to me. He will find her somehow."

"Oh, come on," Susan replied. "If the mayor's house isn't safe, then I don't know where is—"

"He tried to kill the mayor earlier today," hissed Liam. "What does she think she's going to do, reform him? That he's going to apologize for his crimes and live happily ever after with her and Lily? Jack was never like that."

"Jeannie knows more than she lets on," Susan tried to pacify him. "She's not telling us everything."

"The truth doesn't matter! She's going to get herself killed if she doesn't come back here! With the Joker running around loose, no one is safe!"

Lily's eyes were as wide as saucers. "I don't know what they mean! Is Mommy in danger?"

"Do you know who Jack is?" David asked.

"Jack is Daddy's name, but Mommy says he's watching over us in heaven. Maybe he's keeping her safe," Lily said hopefully.

"Not if the Joker gets her!" David replied eagerly. "I saw him on TV. He's a clown who murders people."

"B—but clowns aren't evil," protested Lily. "They're nice!"

"Not this one!" David exclaimed. He stretched his mouth into an unnaturally wide smile. "I'm going to come and get you!" he growled.

Lily screamed, and promptly burst into tears. Liam and Susan immediately came running. "David Kerr!" Liam scolded. "You know not to eavesdrop on other people's conversations."

"Aw, Dad, I was just trying to have fun," David said. "She's just a scaredy-cat."

"Am not!" Lily argued through her tears.

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Before a full-scale war could break out, Liam ushered David away, sharply chastising him. Susan hugged Lily comfortingly. "I want Mommy back," she sobbed, rubbing her eyes.

"She'll be back soon," Susan tried her best to reassure her. "Now, listen, it's past your bedtime. How about I read you a story?"

Lily sniffled and nodded. "Can it be Snow White?"

"Anything you want," Susan said. She took Lily by the hand and gently led her upstairs to Joanna's room. "Is this room fine?"

"Only if there are no monsters," Lily hiccupped. "Thumper chases the monsters away, but I gave him to Mommy."

"I promise there are no monsters," Susan said, although she was only referring to the room. There was a monster, but he was far away and, unfortunately, more connected to her young niece than she dared to think about.

"Okay," Jeannie said as she watched the police car with the Joker inside drive away, "Do you think they'll let us into the police station?"

Emily looked incredulous. "Jeannie, you're not thinking of going there now, are you?"

"The agreement was that you would take me to see him when he was caught. Now he's caught." Jeannie's exhaustion had all but disappeared.

"Maybe we should wait until tomorrow…" Emily said, but Jeannie's glare made her trail off.

"Fine," she groaned. "Anthony's probably on his way over anyway."

It took them forty minutes to get to the police station in the mass of traffic that was lined up on the streets, and another twenty to sneak inside. Jeannie had been in the station many times before, when her father had been an officer, but the layout had changed in the years since she'd last been inside. Emily snuck her through a door she hadn't previously known about, down a short hallway, and finally through a concrete door labeled "Holding Cells." Jeannie could just make out the outline of steel bars and a crowd of officers before Emily blocked her view, pulling a pair of glasses out of her pocket.

"Em, I can't even see out of these," Jeannie said, but she was so panicky her voice sounded faraway and very unlike her.

"We have to make sure he doesn't recognize you," Emily replied.

"I don't even recognize myself," Jeannie answered, though she wasn't even sure of what she was saying anymore.

"Emily!" a distant voice sounded, and someone broke off from the group to approach them.

"Anthony, don't," Emily said, snapping to attention and suddenly sounding very different. "I was worried about you."

"Worr—you don't need to be worried about me," he said, looking shocked. "I've done this every day for the past three years—"

"But the Joker is different," Emily pleaded. "I had to make sure you were all right."

"Who's this, anyway?" he asked, looking at Jeannie. "Weren't you at our house earlier?"

Before she could respond, Emily cut in with, "This is Sheila Moore. She's a friend from work."

Jeannie was astounded, but she tried her best to mask her surprise. Anthony hadn't recognized her, and Emily was trying to cover up so he wouldn't discover their true intentions. She felt an enormous rush of gratitude for her friend.

"She can't be here," Anthony insisted. "It's dangerous and the Joker is a threat to—"

"Mayor Garcia!" one of the officers called, and, casting a dark look back at them, Anthony hurried back to the group. Emily looped her arm around Jeannie's and led her over to the holding cells.

The first thing Jeannie noticed was the color. The vivid green and purple stood out against the muted, dim lighting and the gray walls, contrasting starkly with the neutral clothes everyone else wore.

The other prisoners gave him a wide berth. Most of them were banging on the bars or quarrelling amongst each other—all except for him. He sat perfectly still, his hands on his thighs, legs spread apart, staring up at the officers crowding around him with an unfathomable expression.

White greasepaint messily covered his face and his eyes were masked with kohl, but Jeannie knew his posture and demeanor well enough to tell that this was definitely him.

Oh, yes, this was Jack.

"Yes or no?" Emily murmured into her ear. Jeannie inclined her head forward as much as she dared to, signaling a nod. Her friend stiffened as she looked at the Joker with new eyes.

But really, had she expected anything different?

"Stand away! All of you. I don't want anything for his mob lawyer to use, understand?" A man with peppery gray hair and glasses strode into the room. Jeannie recognized him instantly: he was one of her father's old coworkers, James Gordon. But hadn't Emily said he was killed?

"Commissioner Gordon!" Anthony said, clapping him on the back. "Back from the dead, I see?"

Gordon gave a slight nod. "I couldn't chance my family's safety."

"So what do we got?" Anthony asked, gesturing to the Joker.

The officer shook his head, looking frustrated. "Nothing," he said with a sigh. "No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias…nothing."

Of course there would be nothing, Jeannie thought. There wouldn't be any records for someone who was declared dead years ago—if Jack had even been on the records in the first place.

"Go home, Gordon," Anthony said kindly, apparently noticing his exhaustion as well. "The clown'll keep till morning. Go get some rest—you're going to need it. Tomorrow you take the big job—you don't have any say in the matter—Commissioner Gordon."

The room broke into applause. Emily clapped, so Jeannie felt it safe to begin clapping as well. Her hands were sweaty and clammy with fear.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, breaking into a cold sweat when she saw that the Joker, arms now outstretched, had also begun to clap.

One by one, everyone stopped until he was the only one left clapping, the sound echoing through the room. "Freak," one of the officers muttered audibly, but that, if anything, only seemed to widen the Joker's grin.

"Let's go," Emily whispered in Jeannie's ear, so quietly that she barely mouthed the words. But Jeannie didn't move. She was still staring at the Joker, taking in every aspect of him that she knew so well, from the long limbs to the curly hair to the scars…it was Jack, but he was altered, twisted far beyond what she remembered.

And…was it all her fault? If she hadn't disappeared, would he still have been normal? Could he have ever been what constituted "normal" in society?

"What should we do with him now?" Gordon asked Anthony in a low voice, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "We can't keep him in there with those men. He'll kill one of them soon enough."

"I have a suggestion, Com-miss-ioner," a new voice drawled. Jeannie shivered to hear the Joker speak—so slowly and deliberately, exactly like how Jack used to. But his voice had changed—it was grating and high-pitched, not the deep baritone she was used to. Why would he change his voice?

Anthony and Gordon turned to look at him, and the Joker leaned forward, basking in the attention. "Have you considered removing me from the—ah—possible targets? Isn't it easier to move just one person?"

Gordon stared at the Joker, sizing him up. Pretending to be impatient, the Joker turned to Anthony. "Wouldn't you agree, Mayor Garcia?" he asked. "Or…should I be asking someone else? Does your wife make your decisions for you?"

His head turned in Jeannie's direction for the first time. Emily's face froze as if under a mask. Like everyone else in the room, she was unable to speak. Somehow the Joker had subverted the conversation so that he was now the one in control. An eerie quiet settled over the room.

"What do you think?" he continued, and Jeannie turned to see him looking right at her. He was glaring up at her through hooded eyes, and his lips were curved upward in a cruel smile.

Jack.

Joker.

Her fear was outlined plainly on her face, and luckily the Joker interpreted that as generic terror. He let out his breath in a mock-annoyed sigh. "Oh, come on. I can't hurt you now, can I?" He gestured to the iron bars of the cell. "I was just asking a question."

"I don't know," she whispered, barely audibly.

"You don't know," he repeated, his voice mocking hers. "That's a bit of a…useless opinion, isn't it?"

Jeannie was past the point of trying to reasonably talk to him now. She nodded mechanically, looking for any trace of recognition in his eyes.

"Bring him to the interrogation room," Gordon ordered. He turned to Emily. "Mrs. Garcia, I would suggest escorting your friend elsewhere, as she looks like she is about to faint."

Emily nodded. "Let's go, Sheila," she said. Jeannie couldn't move, so Emily had to forcibly lead her away.

"Let's just hope you know how to walk, hmmm?" the Joker called after her. While the officers crowded around him, Emily led her back downstairs and into the cold autumn night.

"It's Jack," Jeannie gulped. "It's him—"

"I know," Emily said solemnly. "You really don't look well, Jeannie."

"I don't feel well," replied Jeannie. It was true—shock as well as exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her.

"Listen," said Emily, "I'll bring you back to the hotel. You need just as much rest as the new Commissioner does."

Jeannie nodded mutely, and was asleep within seconds of reaching the car.

When she woke up, she was breathing the musty hotel smell and lying on an unfamiliar bed. She was drowsy and disoriented, sure signs she had been asleep for a long time.

They were back in her hotel suite, Emily sitting cross-legged on the bed across from her and watching TV at a low volume. Jeannie felt like she had been asleep for days, but the closed drapes and lamps indicated that it was dark outside.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Emily said when she saw Jeannie stir. "You've been out for a while."

"How long?" Jeannie asked, slowly sitting up.

"Twenty-three hours and forty-six minutes," Emily replied, shaking her head. "It's a good thing you were unconscious. I was debating whether or not to wake you up for a while."

"What happened?" Jeannie asked. The grainy images on TV were showing a line of police cars pulling up into the gates of Arkham.

"To make a long story short…the Joker escaped jail, blew up a hospital, and nearly blew up two ferries filled with people trying to escape Gotham before Batman stopped him," Emily said. "Oh, and did I mention Batman murdered Harvey Dent and is now a wanted fugitive?"

"Oh," Jeannie said in a small voice. "Maybe if I go back to sleep again, I'll wake up and the city will have self-destructed."

Emily ordered room service and filled Jeannie on the details while she ate. Apparently, the Joker had been taken directly to Arkham and would not undergo a trial for at least a couple of weeks, while they stuffed him full of sedatives and medications. Jeannie could half-understand their reasons for wanting to do this: the Joker was at his normal self was a lethal force, so they might as well decrease the risk of another catastrophe if they had him under the proper medications.

"When do you think they'll let me visit him?" Jeannie asked.

Emily looked alarmed. "Probably never—he's probably the most high-security patient Arkham has ever had. And I thought we decided that you'll be going home now. I can bring you to the airport anytime you want."

The terror Jeannie would feel at seeing the Joker again was nothing compared to the agony of knowing that he was still alive, somewhere on the other side of the country, incarcerated. She had to see him again. Murderous psychopath or not, she had to tell him what really happened.

"Emily, you can't stop me," Jeannie said. "You might think you know what's best for me, but I know what I'm doing. How would you feel if you were in my position and it was Anthony who was in Arkham?"

"Jeannie, that's the problem. You don't know what you're doing," Emily said. "He blew up a hospital and nearly killed thousands of people. Who knows if he'll even recognize you?"

"He has to know the truth."

"But what if he escapes? He'll come after you, Jeannie. Or what if he doesn't even remember who you are?"

Jeannie sighed. She could do nothing more to persuade Emily. She didn't know Jack like she had—she had never been in love with him like she was. Jack still had to be inside the Joker, somewhere deep down. Jeannie had memorized every inch of his body, his weaknesses and his strengths. She knew Jack better than anyone ever had. For God's sake, she had even given birth to his daughter! If anyone had the right to see him now, it had to be her.

"I know what I can do," Jeannie said suddenly. Emily looked up, alarmed. "I can think of a way to check if he remembers me."

"How?" Emily asked.

Jeannie shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

But, hopefully, the Joker would.

Since she had just slept for twenty-four hours straight, she wasn't tired in the least anymore. Emily drove home to get some sleep and to check on Anthony, leaving Jeannie alone in the hotel. She didn't mind being alone now; not since she had begun to form a plan.

It was probably an idiotic, stupidly reckless idea. But Jeannie had to see the Joker again. She wanted to prove that there was still some trace of Jack remaining, miniscule or not.

Ironically, the least of her worries was getting herself injured or killed. But Jeannie wasn't thinking straight. All she knew was that her husband, whom she had thought dead for five years, was still alive. She would do anything it took to see him again, no matter who he was now.

When the early-morning light began to stain the room, Jeannie had her plan figured out. If the Joker responded to her cue, she would tell him what happened. But if he didn't recognize it, she would give up and leave. After all, there was no point in continuing if he couldn't remember who she was.

Jeannie feared him not remembering even more than she feared him remembering. She had a vague idea of how she would react, although it wasn't a very pleasant prospect. A mouse didn't push its luck when a lion gave it a reprieve.

The phone on the bedside table rang and she frowned at it. Who would be calling her here? "Miss," a voice said when she answered, "You have visitors in the lobby."

"Visitors?" Jeannie asked. Was Emily back already?

"He says his name is Liam."

Liam? What was he doing in Gotham? "All right," Jeannie said, voice shaking. "Send them up."

While she waited for him to arrive, she paced the room nervously. He must have come to drag her back to Chicago—she couldn't think of any other reason.

But when there was a knock on her door minutes later, Liam wasn't the first person she saw. "Lily?" she asked in surprise as a blonde streak rushed at her.

"Mommy, you look so different!" Lily exclaimed. "I don't look like you anymore."

"I had a bit of a makeover," Jeannie replied, averting her eyes from Liam's knowing look.

"I missed you so much!" her daughter continued. "We were on an airplane and it was so high up I thought we were in space because everything was so small! Aunt Susan said I was brave because I wanted to see out the window, but I wasn't scared at all!"

Jeannie looked over her shoulder at Liam, who shrugged. "Listen, Jeannie, Susan's mother just had a stroke and we're going to visit her," he said. Susan's parents had moved to a villa in the south of France. "It's convenient that we have a layover in Gotham. Now that the Joker's been locked up, I figured it was safe to bring Lily back to you."

"Thank you," Jeannie said weakly as she watched him leave. Although she was glad to see Lily again, the last thing she wanted was for her to be in the middle of everything.

But she didn't have to be, Jeannie realized. She could take her to Emily, at least for the day. Emily was Lily's godmother; she would surely agree to take care of her while Jeannie went to Arkham. Then, if the Joker didn't recognize her, it would be easy to just go back to Chicago with her.

But…what if he did recognize her? Jeannie didn't want to think about the outcome of that.

It was a long shot, but Lily was the one thing she could not bear to lose.