A/N: I know I told most of you personally, but I'll say it again - I'M SORRY! :( I know that was a mean place to leave off, but here's the update! You like updates, don't you? That being said, this chapter was difficult to write, probably because we all know the scene that is about to unfold so very well. I've tried to work with it a little differently than how I've seen it done in other fanfics; I hope you guys like it.

Thank you to sandstormhero, the MadMarie, linalove, RedHairedJenna, Countenance, FALLING-ANGEL24, Lilt, Firerosemon, HoneyandMint, Marie Phantom, Leyshla Gisel, Ravenclaw992, Noelle, PrimeEmily135, machee, Guest, Serendipity's tears, Mila Romanov, InTheShadowOfSignificance, kelseydk, hlytxaccountant, The Auburn Girl, Fumblepaws, JJFern, TinkerbellxO, Nexfaeri, HannahDanyelle, LPD2, Alexi122, EllenAllen, Toxiclilly, vampgurl90, Rutela Lagunov, Lost Time Traveler, MaggieMcCartney, Miriam the Tedious, Nebelhexe, TheTalkingCupcake, A-KT66, honeybeeze, nemesis, Fragile Dream, Inkoholic4U, EmilyEverlasting, black ink'n white paper, SaxonBandwagon, Bitchy Barnes, MidnightRoses291, kittykat6625, SleepyLambs, TheInsanityThatHidesWithin, Miyukino, Emma, MrGagaSlashLover, RachelLynnexx, Guest, Lingual Copper, Jestie Uchiha, Lady Liesel, Yuki Hikari, Zetsubel, Vanilleshampoo, pourquoibella, Gotham's Angel Avenger, TDI-Ryro-Eclares, Loyal Reader, Lexiful Sunshine, Aerial, Guest, KorroksApostle, SharpestSatire, rosieali, HelloKeke, Celebrian Ringeril, Shadow love, Guest, Frustrated Guest, LBpunkrock722, twinbuster2, omguhavebrowneyes, Guest, and chronotempus for your reviews. :D

Remnant

Chapter Four

/

"Jane?" Amy called through the phone, the tone in her voice quick to concern. "What the hell was that?"

I stared into the crowd, my breathing silent though my heart pounded against my chest, surprised from the blast of the shotgun heard moments before; I could hear a single voice speaking aloud to the guests, though not loud enough that I could make out the words, and especially not with Amy shouting through the phone. I took a couple of steps towards the centre of the room, trying to see over the crowd, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Jane?"

I pressed the earpiece against my ear. "I'll call you back."

"Jane, wait-"

I hung up and slipped the phone into the clutch, though why I didn't keep it handy, I'll never know. I wandered closer to the centre of the room; everyone was frozen, nobody said a word, and I couldn't see anything; I couldn't see over the heads of the many people standing and watching the speaker. I wandered closer, lifting my chin, trying to get a glimpse of the party crasher. Then I heard it.

"I only have one question..."

And I stopped. I froze. My heart jumped into my throat and I couldn't breathe.

No way.

No way.

"Where is Harvey Dent?"

My lips shook, and my hands began to shake, and my breath began to leave me in fluttery, fearful pants. The entirety of the room shared my feeling of shock; though I couldn't see him past the thickness of the crowd, I knew that no one could take their eyes off him. He'd be dressed up like a clown, I knew he would be; they'd all recognize him as the Joker, as the guy who was on the TV making threats to Batman and to Gotham, but they didn't know, no one really knew...

I took a step back away from the crowd; I didn't dare go any closer. I cast a quick glance around the room, looking for a visible way out. I knew he would have the elevator access closed off by his thugs, but surely there was a stairwell down to the lobby somewhere. Or perhaps Bruce Wayne had a sizeable walk-in closet I could hide in, a bed I could slip under, a cupboard under the sink I could crawl into, something - anything.

I couldn't be in the room with him. He couldn't see me.

"Y'know," I heard him muse aloud. "I'll settle for his loved ones."

I was almost backed up against the window when I was barely able to spot him through a thin break in the crowd; it seemed so surreal and yet there he was, with the greasepaint and the suit and the green hair, and his voice when he said "Y'know you remind me of my father..." was high-pitched and inquisitive, and yet at the same time so very sinister, and I watched in horror as he grabbed the older man's head and pressed what was obviously a knife, though too small for me to see from the distance I was at, against the man's mouth. "I hated my father."

My breath hitched in my chest as I knew jack would hurt the man, would hurt anyone and everyone in the room, to get the answers he wanted.

"Okay, stop."

The tension in the crowd seemed to ease for a single moment, and I watched Jack as he cast a curious glance across the room. In the crowd, off to my right, I watched a woman stand apart from the crowd expectedly, facing Jack seemingly unafraid, tall and luminous in her turquoise dress, and though I had no idea how my mind put two and two together in that moment, I knew that she was Rachel Dawes, assistant DA, but wasn't sure if it was her position that made her stand up to him, or the fact that she was indeed a loved one of Harvey's.

Either way, as I looked back at Jack and observed how he abandoned the old man in favour of this heroine who had stepped out from the crowd, I knew she was putting herself in a world of danger; she wouldn't hold Jack's interest for long.

Jack tilted his head slightly, as though she piqued his curiosity. "Well hello beautiful," he said, and went towards her, swiping at his hair on both sides of his face with the gloved hand that held his knife, and then he motioned to her with the tip of it. "You must be Harvey's squeeze."

Rachel had her arms crossed to protect herself from him; I could see by the expression on her face that she was regretting having stepped forward, though at the same time trying to stand strong against him. He continued towards her, not hesitating in the slightest. "And you are beautiful."

I realized, half horrified, that from where I stood I had a perfect view of Jack and Rachel Dawes; there he was, in the flesh, exactly as I remembered him. Still the same towering height, still the same hunch of his shoulders as he walked. the suit added to the bulk of his body, much like those oversized raincoats he used to wear. His hair was longer and grimier, and of course his face was slathered with the greasepaint to adhere to his clown persona. It was difficult to fathom that it'd been eight months since the Black Canary, eight months since the alleyway, cause suddenly it seemed as though it was all only yesterday. Suddenly it seemed as though he had never disappeared only to reappear.

I watched him circle Rachel Dawes, sizing her up, and when he leaned into her, she cowered. He considered her carefully, continued to circle her, until he stopped at long last. "You look nervous...is it the scars? Wanna know how I got them?"

I was frozen, much like the rest of the room, completely unable to do anything except watch as he took hold of Rachel Dawes with both hands, despite her struggles. I felt I should have stepped forward, said his name into the crowd to draw his attention, gotten him to stop and leave her alone, something, anything. He had his hands on her and there was no way he would leave her unscathed, I knew that for sure, and yet I couldn't do anything but stare at him, half-mortified, half-mesmerized, unable to face the fact that he was there, in that room, and that I was there too. And I knew he couldn't see me here, but what if he did? If I drew his attention away from Rachel Dawes, what would he do? What would he do?

Jack stumbled back when Rachel caught him in the groin with her fist, making my heart stop and my eyes widen, though Jack recovered and giggled a little, holding up his knife for her to see. "A little fight in you..." he said, playfully. "I like that."

And then-

"Then you're gonna love me."

My attention was drawn, just as Jack's was, to...

Batman.

Batman.

Batman punched Jack and Jack, surprised, stumbled back, and then his clowns went at him, one by one. Rachel Dawes jumped back away from the fray, as did Jack, though I could see he was itching at a chance to get a hit in on Batman. The room was in awe and silent, save for the grunts of the fight and the low gasps from the crowd. The clowns circled him, each and every one of them, but Batman dealt with them accordingly one and then two at a time. It was insane to watch him at work, a blur of black against the light in the room, fighting off the clowns, fighting off Jack as he went at Batman with a kick and went tumbling down on to the floor after Batman countered. I could only watch, the room could only watch, as it seemed Batman had the upper hand over Jack and his goons.

But then suddenly Jack had Rachel Dawes, and I blinked, wondering when that had happened, when he had gotten to his feet and grabbed ahold of her. It must have happened in an instant and yet I hadn't seen any of it until Jack had Rachel Dawes at gunpoint, backed up towards one of the windows. Batman paused and watched Jack sternly, and I found my gaze switching between the two of them, unsure what would happen, what to do.

"Drop the gun." Batman said.

"Oh sure," Jack said, his voice high and sing-song. "You just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are. Hmm?"

Rachel struggled to get out of his arms, looking at Batman pleadingly, and when it seemed as though Batman was biding his time, or trying to determine the best move to maneuver in order to get Rachel out of harms way, suddenly Jack shot out the window behind him, making me jump with the noise of both the gunshot and the glass shattering. He turned and held Rachel out of the window by one arm and looked back to Batman, as if waiting for instruction.

I should have jumped forward, I should have screamed, I should have done something to stop him! He was going to throw her out of Bruce Wayne's penthouse to go falling 35 feet above Gotham City and it was possible I could divert him and get him to stop, stall him, something, and yet I couldn't. All I could do was gape as Batman demanded that Jack let Rachel Dawes go and he did, right out the window.

The crowd gasped and watched, unbelieving, as Rachel Dawes disappeared out the window and into the blackness, and Batman flew past Jack right out after her...and was gone.

Batman was gone.

Batman had left us.

Jack looked out the window, looking down as though he wanted to watch them plummet to the road below, and then he turned back to the crowd; even at the distance he was at, I could hear him growling under his breath.

"Flying rat," Jack spat angrily, and then he turned on his heel, back towards the onlooking crowd, and he threw up his hands as though he was getting increasingly frustrated, as though his own party had been crashed by a madman and the Batman. "Search the place, boys. Dent's here somewhere. Nobody leaves."

The crowd went silent once more, though increasingly agitated after what they'd just seen Jack do; his clowns pulled themselves up off the floor, sore from Batman's beatings, and as per Jack's instruction, they began to slowly spread themselves out and search the bowels of the penthouse. Jack went into the crowd with dangerous strides, and everyone backed up to give him his space. I could see the mood he was in, it was pulsating off him, and as he disappeared amongst the crowd of frightened guests, I managed to tear my eyes away from him.

Matt, where was Matt? Matt would hide me, Matt would protect me, Matt would die before letting anything happen to me, he would. If Jack saw me...but I had to make sure he didn't see me. I looked towards the window where the cold night air was blowing in; would Batman return? Surely he had to, he wouldn't leave us all here alone, not with Jack here. He wouldn't, I just knew he wouldn't!

I looked back to Jack and could barely see the purple of his coat through the crowd, pacing back and forth. Nobody moved, nobody dared to move, not after he threw Rachel Dawes out the window. I edged carefully towards where the buffet tables sat, thinking I could hide behind them or at least under the long white tablecloths until Batman returned or they left or something happened.

I was nearly there, I was so close, I could skip forward and slide behind the buffet table on my knees from where I was at, when I heard voices bellow from each corner of the penthouse, shouting at Jack. The one that caught my attention were the clowns that emerged from a hallway in behind where the elevator was; two of them came marching in, holding their guns, shouting through their clown masks.

"Dent's not here, boss," said one of the clowns, as they emerged from the hallway into the light.

I saw Jack through the crowd and watched as he considered this information, chewing at the inside of his scars rather noisily for a moment or two. Then, he groaned rather loudly and motioned towards one of his goons, who stepped forward, and handed him the shotgun when Jack beckoned for it. The crowd waited, too scared to do anything except watch him.

"This party's over," Jack said, miserably, looking over the crowd, and then he rose the shotgun up and fired once into the ceiling.

And all hell broke loose.

The guests began to scream and run, in whatever direction would allow them an escape. The noise shocked me, and though I had set myself apart from the crowd accordingly, the sudden stampede startled me enough that I found myself glued to the spot. In front of me was nothing but a blur of colours from dresses and suits of the guests rushing past me. A harsh, loud crash made me jump as I realized that in their fear, the guests had knocked over the table of champagne glasses, sending them all crashing to the floor. The buffet table wasn't far behind, as people in their anxiousness to get out ran into the length of the buffet table, causing it to tip and eventually collapse, spilling catered food all over the floor with the spilled champagne and broken glass.

I watched, as best I could through the crowd, as the clowns congregated in the centre of the room, watching the guests rush towards the available exits, those I didn't see but obviously existed. I watched Jack raise his arm to the elevator and several of his clowns rushed forward towards it, presumably to call the elevator. I could see that he was furious, I could see it in the way he was standing, in the way his shoulders were hunched up, how his head was bent just a little. He was seething; he was positively seething.

Then, someone bashed right into me, knocking into my right shoulder and my side, despite the fact I was standing what I thought was fairly out of the way of the rush. I lost my footing in the high heels and went down, holding out my hands to catch myself on the floor and keep from face-planting. My elbow and arm collided hard with the marble and I winced hard as I felt a sharp pain against the palm of my right hand, where I held it out against the floor. When I managed to sit up and look at my hand, it was bleeding; I'd caught it in the broken glass of the spilled champagne table. I looked up, overwhelmed by the sight of the blood and the screaming and the sheer, utter panic in the room...it seemed the stampede just went on and on, all the guests fleeing at the same time, shrieking in fear.

And yet, I could still see him, as though he was the only one wearing purple in the entire crowd. I could see him, he wasn't even that far from me. He kept his eyes hard on the elevator, waiting for it to appear, walking towards it very, very slowly.

Then, amidst the screams and shrieks, I heard a voice in the crowd call my name very clearly. "Jane? Jane!"

From where I sat, though I heard the voice and desperately wanted to find Matt and see his face and answer him, because I knew it wasMatt who was calling me, I simply couldn't pull my eyes from Jack.

And I watched in horror, horror, and everything around me seemed completely irrelevant, as I watched as Jack froze.

People were rushing past him, screaming and crying, but I stared up at him and watched as he turned his head, just slightly, listening, and then slowly he turned on his heel, his greasepaint-slathered scars in a deep-set frown, his eyebrows furrowed inquisitively, his black eyes scanning the crowd as they rushed past him. I suddenly became all too aware of how heavy my breathing was, and just how close he was to me, and how he was looking at every person who rushed past him.

He was scouring the crowd.

I backed up, towards the knocked-over buffet table, trying to put some distance between us. I knew I shouldn't have taken my eyes off him but I looked around, anxiously trying to spot Matt amongst the madness. I'd heard him, and he sounded close, but there was such a frenzy that I couldn't see him. I couldn't see much of anything.

But as my eyes swept the crowd for Matt, I looked ahead of me.

Right into Jack's black eyes.

From the fair enough distance between us I watched the recognition etch on his white painted face, how the frown on his angry scars seemed to lift, even if by a little, and how his eyes, his deep black eyes, narrowed to me. His eyebrows furled almost in confusion and then lifted; he saw me, just as I saw him, and we stared at each other; amidst the chaos of the stampeding, shrieking guests, all I was aware of was him staring at me, seeing me, and he stared back at me, quite steadily, and the two of us were unsure what to do, unsure what to make of each other's presences in that room, unsure of what to do other than accept that we recognized each other at that very moment.

And then, in a split second, he was gone.

The other clowns ran past him, one of two pushing at him, trying to get him to move, to get out, before the Batman came back, before the police made their way to the penthouse. I watched, not able to take my eyes off him, as he turned and moved in long strides to the elevator. I waited for him to stop and take another look, or just turn his head and get another glimpse, just to see, just to be sure...

But he never did. He didn't have to.

He saw me. He saw me.

The elevator doors closed behind him and his clowns, and he was gone.

I don't know how long I sat there like that on the ground with the spilled contents of the buffet table all around me, listening to the screams and the cries of anguish as the party guests made their frantic way towards any exit that had become available to them, holding up my bleeding hand while holding myself up with the other. I stared at the elevator for a long time, watching the doors, feeling that at any moment, they would open again and there he'd be, there he'd be, ready to charge towards me with his black eyes, even though I knew he was long gone, even though I knew there was no chance he was coming back.

"Jane!" suddenly I felt hands on me, on my shoulders, grabbing at me trying to get my attention, though I couldn't pull my attention away from the elevator doors. It was Matt, I knew the feel of his hands and knew his voice and recognized the cologne he was wearing. He bent down beside me, his hands on my shoulders. "Jane, thank god, I thought I lost you. Your sister would have eaten me," then, carefully, he took my bleeding hand in both of his and hissed. "Jesus, are you okay?"

I couldn't answer him, couldn't even nod or shake my head to answer him and let him know I was okay, that it was better than it looked. All I could do was stare at the elevator.

The next thing I knew, Matt was very gently coaxing me to my feet, though I stood rather wobbly. "Can you walk? Is your ankle twisted?" he asked, though he didn't wait for an answer, he put my arm around his shoulders and took my weight as though it was nothing. "Wayne's got an emergency exit this way, probably took off the second the clown showed his face, the pussy. Jane, are you okay to walk?"

But he did the walking for the two of us easily enough, until we were out of view of the elevator, at least. As we passed it, I couldn't help but stare at it, thinking that only seconds early, as he escaped the Batman, escaped the police I'm sure were on their way, Jack stood there and considered, for a least a second, that he had seen me.

/

It was another hour and 45 minutes before we walked in the front door of Matt and Amy's apartment; all the lights were on, and as soon as Matt closed the door, Amy came waddling into the front room just as fast as she could, in her PJs and housecoat, looking as though she had spent the last two hours on the phone with the police filing a missing person's report. She held out her arms. "Oh my god, you guys..." she grabbed me and squeezed me, her pregnant belly pressing into me, and then she grabbed her husband as I continued into the kitchen and took Matt's Yohji jacket off my shoulders. "What happened?"

"The Joker happened," Matt said, angrily. "Showed up right at the goddamn penthouse."

"Jesus," Amy said. "Are you guys okay?"

I looked down at my hand, bandaged by the EMT driving at one of the ambulances that had accompanied the police as they showed up at Wayne's penthouse, at last, treating shock and women who had fainted and other guests suffering varying degrees of hysterics. I didn't want to show Amy my hand, I didn't want her to freak out anymore than she already was, it wasn't good for her or the baby. "We're okay, Amy, we are."

I sat down at the island in the kitchen; Matt and Amy followed behind me, Matt going for the scotch bottle hidden in-behind the cereal boxes, where he kept it out of sight out of mind, except for situations like this. Amy stood at the island looking frustrated, trying to get answers about what had happened. "Was anyone hurt?"

Matt screwed off the cap of the scotch bottle and shook his head. "The Joker threw a woman out one of the windows," and he waved an arm around, as if to emphasize his disgust. "But she was fine, the Batman jumped out after her."

Amy gaped at him while he chugged from the bottle. "Wha- and just left the rest of you up there with the Joker?"

"Yeah," Matt said, swallowing and settling down the bottle. "Wayne was nowhere in sight, big surprise there!"

Amy slammed her palms down on the granite countertop. "I can't believe that- what was the Joker even doing there anyway?"

"Looking for Dent," Matt said, looking as though he was regretting that first shot from the scotch bottle, but he was obviously gearing himself up to take another.

"What for?" Amy said, getting more and more outraged.

Finally, from the stress of the evening, Matt held out two arms as if to say what the fuck. "How should I know? What am I, the Joker's public relations director?"

I couldn't take it anymore; I slipped off the stool and steered around Matt and Amy and headed down the hallway towards the guest room.

"You were right there in the middle of everything-" I heard Amy say as a matter-of-fact before I turned on the light and closed the door behind me, shutting them up and shutting them out.

Henry was asleep on the end of the bed, and when I came in, he yawned and stretched and blinked up at me sleepily, annoyed. I stared at him, and looked around the room, at the perfectly made bed and the pristine grey walls and the plush carpet, and the moonlight coming in through the curtains on the window, and I found myself sliding down the length of the door until I was sitting against it, my legs lying flat against the carpet. I stared at my feet, at a pair of Amy's shoes I'd managed to fit into, and forcefully I kicked them off and pulled my knees up to my chest and curled my arms around my legs. I pressed my forehead against my knees and took in deep breaths and let them out, in and out, trying to keep out the noise of Amy and Matt arguing in the kitchen, focusing on Henry staring at me from the bed and trying to remind myself I was in Matt and Amy's apartment...Matt and Amy's apartment, downtown Gotham...downtown Gotham...in the Amethyst Bay Tower, very prestigious, very, very expensive, very guarded, in many, many ways.

This was not the Palace. Not just anyone could stroll in through the front doors. It was guarded...the elevator required a security key. It was equipped with security cameras. This was not the Palace. This was not room 310.

Jack had seen me...he had seen me...

But he couldn't find me. He couldn't find me. Not here.

No, no no no.

/