A/N: and I'm back with chapter nine! Hope it wasn't a long wait. And we're now +100 reviews! You. Guys. Rock. Seriously, your reviews are so complex and thoughtful, they leave me speechless. And you also push me to be a better writer, so thank you!

To anonymous reviewers and people I couldn't PM, thank you so much as well! (Guest, Beckiiee - wow, thank you! very flattered you think so, and I'm sorry for my tardiness, I hope this makes up for it, Guest, Anon - thank you, glad I kept you up, haha, UntiedHeartbeat - thank you for reading on even though you weren't sure if this was going in the right direction :) you gave the story a chance and I respect you immensely for it. I'm very happy you liked the twist and you summed it up brilliantly, sometimes it does take just a little push to go over the edge, in both their cases. thanks again for the kind words:), OO - thank you!, Guest)

This chapter continues to show how Penny is adjusting to her life after Jack. And to what degree Jack is really there or not.

Expect twists, revelations and resolutions on the way :)

I'm curious to read your impressions.

As always, enjoy!


"How are the eggs, Penny?"

Penny took a large bite and smiled encouragingly. Her stomach was churning and she was eating more because she knew she had to, but Caroline Levenstein didn't need to know that.

"Very good, thank you. Although you didn't have to go to this much trouble, I could have sprung up something for myself –"

"Nonsense, please, you're my guest and I want you to feel at home," she said warmly and placed one hand on her shoulder. Penny stiffened. She tried to suppress the flinch that came instinctually. She was getting better at it.

There was no reason to complain. Caroline and Abe Levenstein had been nothing but friendly and supportive. They were strangers to her, but they acted as if they'd known her all her life.

"You've always been kind to my mother. I just want to return the favor," was what Abe had told her when she had moved in.

Penny, however, was counting down the days until she could move out. It wasn't that she didn't like them, but being around people who constantly reminded you of your fragility was not helpful. She would sometimes lose her patience with them.

"I'm going to go take a shower, if you don't mind," she said, getting up.

Caroline rose from her seat as well. "Do you need any help? I'll fetch you some towels."

Penny sighed to herself. It was sort of ironic. She had wished for a family for such a long time and now that she had just that, she was emotionally unavailable.

When she stepped inside the bathroom, she locked the door and paused for several minutes, waiting to see if Caroline or Abe were going to check on her.

Thankfully, they had left her alone.

She turned off the lights. Then she went inside the shower, pulled the glass case closed and turned on the hot water. She waited for a couple of moments for the familiar feeling to set in.

It didn't take long, before she was inside the elevator again.

Nothing had changed.

If she turned around, Jack would be there, leaning against the wall with a funny look on his face, asking her if she was a nice business lady.

He never said anything new.

Sometimes, she would blink and he would literally be in the shower with her. He would stand in the pouring water and she'd watch the paint drip down his face. In the dark, she couldn't see the colors; she only saw black rivers run down his scars. She would touch her own face, thinking it was his. She would press her knuckles into her eyes and count to one hundred.

She did not try to talk to him. Did not scream or act out.

And yet, she reenacted the scene at least twice a week.

Some would have called her masochistic. Others would have simply labeled her insane.

But Penny was neither. She simply wanted answers. She wanted to know why. Why her. And revisiting the elevator again and again seemed like the only way to get to the bottom of it.

She'd read somewhere that repeated exposure led to confrontation, which led to recovery. It was better than pretending you could forget and move on. Denial would leave you with unresolved issues.

Pop psychology only got her this far, though.

When she came down to it, she wasn't sure it was recovery she truly wanted.

As the water poured down her shoulders, she thought about the Levensteins.

They had been very kind, that was true, but it couldn't be said they weren't enjoying the media attention. Reporters and journalists haunted their street from dawn to dusk and cameras could be seen peeking out at every corner. The neighborhood was in a fit of excitement. Everyone wanted to talk to the Levensteins, to meet them, to be part of their circle.

Luckily for her, Lieutenant Gordon had provided police protection. No busybody could get inside the apartment building without a police guard's approval. Not only that, but a patrol squad was always making rounds in the nearing neighborhoods, on the lookout for Jack's reappearance. The detectives who were on the case believed he might come back for her, to finish what he had started. They never said it, because it didn't need to be said. It was common criminal behavior.

Penny knew they were wrong. Jack had let her live. He had even kept her alive. Which meant he was keeping himself alive, too. He was not going to attempt anything now. She couldn't tell them, though. It would only make her sound unhinged.

As for the future, Penny didn't want to know what it would bring. Because, perhaps, there was death in her near future. And if that was so, there was no point in thinking about the future altogether.

And, impossibly, this gave her a sense of relief. For once in her life, she didn't have to think about the next step. She didn't have to plan, or analyze, or draw a pros and cons list. She didn't have to do so much work to mould her life, because there was nothing to mould now.

Anxiety, panic, dread, they all seemed to vanish when you didn't have a perspective. You were just stuck in limbo and that was fine.

Hot drops fell on her back violently, growing colder and colder as they reached her arms and legs. At first she thought it was an impression, but gradually, she realized the water was no longer warm.

She fumbled in the dark until she found the lever. She turned the water off.

But something cold was still running down her back.

When she placed a hand to her skin she felt the slick, sticky consistency of paint.

A ghost of breath on her nape. A heavy presence behind her, watching, staring, not touching. Letting her know it would always be there.

She slid the glass case and jumped out of the shower, almost slipping on the steamy tile floor. She kept touching her back, trying to see if the paint was still there.

The presence was behind her, everywhere she turned, no matter how fast she moved. He was in this bathroom. He was everywhere. A multitude of Jacks.

Caroline knocked on the bathroom door.

"Penny? You all right in there?"

"Uh…yeah, everything's fine, I just… dropped the soap," she managed to say, grabbing the sink's edge with both hands.

When she turned the light back on, she didn't even look at her back. She knew there was no paint.


"Transfer?"

Of all the things she had expected to hear from Ryan, this was not one of them.

They were sitting in the Levensteins' sitting area and Ryan, for once, looked completely sober. He was no longer trying to be the funny, charming guy.

She suspected he was worried that he might set her off. The thought amused her, partially.

"What do you mean, transfer?"

Somehow this did not sound like a gentle way of saying she was getting sacked.

Penny hadn't even fathomed that she'd be allowed to continue at Wayne Enterprises. She knew the old saying that no publicity is bad publicity, but she also knew she'd missed more than a month's work and her disputable mental state would give the firm a shaky reputation, if they still considered her an official employee.

What a large company usually did in such cases was donate a monthly or annual amount of money to pay for certain amenities. Or they wrote you a splendid recommendation that turned out to be useless when no one would hire you.

"I mean transfer to another division," Ryan supplied, smiling nervously. "Seems like we'll be parting ways."

"Which division?"

"Uh, Applied Sciences, I believe. They'll probably get in touch with you soon."

Penny was even more confused than before.

"But what would I do there…? That division is mostly research and prototype testing. Not exactly my field."

"Suppose you'll be doing what you did with us. Don't tell me hard industries was your field," he replied with a hint of the old humor in his voice.

Penny half-smiled. "I don't understand why they're doing this."

"They're offering you a solid job," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "which is what they're supposed to do when one of their employees goes through – goes through something like this. Not turn them away."

"Even a temp?" she asked, turning the idea over in her head.

"Well – of course, they don't just consider your previous position in the firm. They also take into account your performance rate and yours ranked high among the trial staff–" Ryan sputtered, trying to come up with a good enough explanation.

"Sarah Wilson's twins died in that boating accident last year and I didn't see her getting the benefit of the doubt. After she stopped showing up, they just let her go," Penny said, looking down at her untouched mug of tea. "Her performance rate ranked high, too."

Ryan blushed, fingering his tie clumsily.

"Sarah Wilson was different."

Penny winced. "I appreciate what you're trying to say, Ryan, but if this is a pity job, Wayne Enterprises has chosen an odd time to feel guilty."

Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it again, when he realized he had nothing to say to that.

"But…you will take it, won't you?" he asked at length, watching her carefully.

Penny smiled a bitter smile.

"I don't know, Ryan. The future is…up in the air right now."

You mean no future, a comforting voice whispered in her ear.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry – I know this is the last thing on your mind right now," Ryan chimed in quickly, "I can't imagine how hard it must be for you with all that's happened and here I am, talking about work, I probably sound pretty stupid."

"No, it's fine, really. Relax. I'm not bothered. I just can't give you an answer right now."

Ryan nodded vigorously and extended his hand towards hers.

"I'm here for you."

His palm covered her knuckles, caressing her skin. Penny flinched and pulled her fingers out of his grasp. Ryan's eyes widened.

"Is it – do I make you uncomfortable? How can I help? How can I make you feel better?" he asked, looking at her with puppy-dog eyes.

She sighed. People around her nowadays split into two categories: those who waited on her, hand and foot, and those who waited for her to talk, preferably about the engimatic clown murderer.

"You can help by finding out why I'm being transferred," she said, trying to smile.

Ryan brightened, happy to be given a task he could actually perform.

"I'll try to get to the bottom of it. But I don't think you should be worried. They probably think a change will do you good. That's all."

Penny raised an eyebrow at him, but Ryan preferred to believe this rather than face facts. She wondered if he would actually find anything.

"You know, you're already getting back to normal. Old Penny Liss would be paranoid and worried about this, too. I can picture it already."

Penny wanted to tell him there was no "new" or "old" Penny Liss. There never had been. What she was now was even more difficult to define. But she stayed quiet.

"Maybe – maybe you're overreacting a little. I mean your suspicions? They might be because of – well, you know. Your sense of trust has been compromised."

No shit, Ryan.

"I'd still like you to look into it, if you could," she said, wondering what would be a polite way of telling him she was tired of this conversation already.

"Listen, Penny," he said, leaning his body towards her, "I know I seem like a regular airhead sometimes, but I want you to know I take this very seriously and you can talk to me anytime about anything. I won't judge. I won't even say a word. I just want to listen. I don't know if you have a friend to talk to right now, but I bet you need one. It can't be easy, keeping all of that inside."

Penny narrowed her eyes at him.

It seemed Ryan fit into both categories; he wanted to help, but he also wanted her to help him.

"Thanks, I appreciate the thought," she replied curtly.

"I mean it," he added, punctuating his words. "My ears are open, but my lips are sealed."

Penny got up from her chair.

"Don't worry. When I feel like talking, you're the first person I'll call."

Ryan beamed at her.

She wondered how much he'd tell the reporters outside.


James Gordon couldn't help it. He had assured her this was an unofficial meeting, that he would not be doing any detective or police work while they were sharing this cup of coffee, but old Lieutenant Gordon kept rearing his ugly head whether he liked it or not.

He registered every movement, every look, every change of expression. And he tried to understand the meaning behind it. Then he tried to forget it.

Penny found it amusing. His inner conflict was quite obvious.

She put down her cup and placed both hands on the table, staring at them as if they belonged to someone else. It felt so strange whenever she walked out of the Levensteins' apartment into the real world. It was like entering a different atmosphere.

"And how have you been keeping busy?" Gordon asked, trying to avoid looking at her face.

"Oh, you know, sleeping, eating, sleeping again. It's kind of a vacation, actually," she joked.

Gordon chuckled. "I should take one too. It sounds a lot more fun than doing paper work."

Penny stirred the teaspoon inside the cup absent-mindedly.

"I mostly think," she said at length. "That's what I do all day. Just think."

"Oh. Thinking's overrated, you know," he said. "I used to think too much, too. I wouldn't get anything done. I'd always stop and mull it over until I convinced myself it was not worth doing at all."

Penny winced. "How did you fix that?"

"Well, I was lucky someone told me what a pompous asshole I'd become."

Penny didn't even notice she was laughing until she heard it come out of her throat. She realized how good it felt to actually laugh again. She smiled in gratitude.

"So, hobbies are off the table. How about work? Any new prospects?" he asked, innocently.

Penny raised an eyebrow.

"What? Valedictorians don't usually have so much free time."

She sighed. "You're well informed, as always."

"It's not what I know that matters. It's what I don't. For example, I don't know how you feel about this."

Penny shrugged. "How am I supposed to feel, Lieutenant?"

Gordon raised a finger and shook his head. "Now, now. We had a deal. No policing."

She rolled her eyes. "Too late for that, wouldn't you say?"

Gordon smiled. "I'll give you that. But my intentions are a different thing entirely. I'm not worried you won't do well. I'm worried you'll turn out like me; too much thinking and not enough doing."

Penny nodded her head. "I understand your concerns." She knew full well how frustrated he felt about not having yet caught Jack. She never brought it up, though. She knew it was hard for him.

"I can think about it less, if that's what you want me to do. In fact, I won't think about it at all," she said, with a smug smile.

Gordon shook his head and smiled back. "You're too clever for your own good, Miss Liss."


Abe and Caroline didn't know it, but she slept with a knife under her pillow. She had nicked it from the kitchen drawer when they weren't looking. It was small and blunt, hardly a real weapon. But it gave her a sense of safety at night, when darkness brought on the panic attacks. Maybe the future didn't worry her anymore, but that didn't mean the present wasn't weighing on her fully.

She always woke up in the dead of the night, in a pool of her own sweat, head spinning with half-forgotten nightmares. Knowing the knife was there gave her comfort. If someone came at her, she wouldn't be defenseless. Mostly though, it felt good to grip something solid.


The calls came and went unanswered, each time. Abe was gently trying to coax her into taking them.

"I know it doesn't feel like the right time, but you could at least hear him out. I'm sure he's not insensitive to your condition. He seems like an insightful man. And you know, he's running for a job no one really wants in this city."

More reason to distrust him, Penny thought.

Truthfully, she didn't think ill of Harvey Dent. She didn't know Harvey Dent well enough to form any judgments. But his ambition had unsettled her. Perhaps because it felt familiar.

She knew why Abe was trying to persuade her to talk to Dent. He thought the future District Attorney would open many doors for her and such an opportunity should not be missed. Especially when she was not going to hold the public's sympathy for long and the media would eventually get bored of her case.

Two months ago, Penny would have agreed.


One thing she had appreciated about Caroline Levenstein from the beginning was how quickly the woman had understood the need to remove all makeup from visible sight.

Penny had not needed to explain herself. The first night she had arrived at their apartment, she had hurled the entire contents of her dinner after seeing Caroline's makeup brush in the bathroom, still tinted red at the edges.

After that, she had not seen a single smear of it anywhere. No brush, no foundation, no blush, no mascara, no concealer, no products whatsoever.

Caroline kept them locked under key and always applied makeup directly at work, taking it off as soon as she stepped through the door.

It was a sacrifice Penny couldn't begin to thank her for.

It was one of the reasons she could bear her sanctimonious attitude without lashing out.

And it was one of the reasons why she knew she hadn't been the one to leave that lipstick on her nightstand.

Penny kept her eyes shut for several seconds. She opened them again.

It was still there, small and silver, like a bullet waiting to put a hole in her.

She had woken up from one of her many nightmares to find another nightmare, just inches away from her hand.

Penny knew she could yell or call or say anything and Caroline would wake up and come to her. The Levensteins slept in the adjacent room and the walls were thin.

But she didn't say anything at all.

She slid her hand under her pillow and grabbed the knife.

He was here.

He was inside this apartment right now.

She had no doubt about that.

Her heart had stopped beating.

It's too soon. It's too soon. He can't -

But couldn't he? Why had she thought he would wait? Why had she thought he would stay away?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Scolding herself wouldn't help matters now.

If he was in the Levensteins' home, she had to protect them. She owed them at least that.

Slowly, she got out of bed and, holding the knife before her, grabbed the lipstick with her other hand.

She took a couple of steps towards the door.

What if he was on the other side?

She froze. She could hear her own teeth chattering. And nothing else. The whole house was quiet. Even the street noises had been muted.

Holding her breath, she pushed the door to her bedroom open.

She was greeted by a deeper darkness in the hallway. She could make out no figures.

If she turned on the lights, he would know she was awake, and the Levensteins would, too. And then what?

No. He wanted me to wake up, she thought, fingering the lipstick.

She started walking towards the living room, making sure her steps were light.

Could she get to a phone and call the police? Doubtful.

Is it going to happen tonight? she thought, feeling every inch of her skin going cold.

She wished he would come out already and end her misery.

But the shadows were closed off and she could see no one.

He was taunting her, making himself invisible, only to appear behind her and scare her to death.

She went through the empty rooms inside the house, one by one.

Every time she felt someone behind her, she turned and waved the knife chaotically in front of her, only to find air.

Penny thought about the way Jack had filled up every space these past two months. A multitude of Jacks in every room.

Was it real now? Was he everywhere…and nowhere?

Absurdly, it was his absence that terrified her now.

He had left his mark. So where was he?

Of course, there was one room she hadn't checked. The bathroom.

Penny steeled herself for the worst. She dropped the knife to the floor. It wouldn't help her now, anyway. She could barely hold it straight without shaking.

Closing her eyes, she turned the knob on the door.

A faint breeze, like a whisper, rustled the hems of her nightgown. She was looking at compact darkness.

The hardest part now was stepping inside.

Something was pulling her in, though. She felt drawn to the place by an unknown force. And it was useless trying to fight it.

The door gently swung shut behind her as she stepped on the cold tile floor.

She didn't know whether it was a draft or a hand that had pulled it.

She stood in the middle of the bathroom, waiting.

"Jack?" she whispered, her voice barely a sound.

She swore she could hear him breathing. It was the kind of ragged breath one got after running. It was her own breath. Her eyes were growing used to the darkness. She could now see the outlines of the shower case. And if she focused hard, she could probably see him inside.

But when she parted the glass slide, there was no one.

The elevator was empty. They hadn't found him inside. He had left her there.

Penny felt herself growing dizzy. She had to lean against the sink for support.

Her fingers were aching. She realized she had been gripping the lipstick too tight.

The lipstick.

Penny exhaled shakily. Maybe the answer was in her hand.

"You gave me the lipstick. You want me to use it, don't you?" she asked the darkness.

It did not reply.

But she suddenly had a purpose.

Penny knew the mirror was behind her. Another Jack in disguise.

She turned and was met with a pair of white eyes staring back at her.

Her own.

She could make out the reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks, her nose, her lips. All her.

She stood in front of that reflection, holding the lipstick in one hand and gripping the edge of the sink with the other.

Her fingers slowly pushed the lid off.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

The question rang hollow. The knot in her throat knew the truth. The hole in her stomach held the answer.

"Do you want me to – do you want me to wear it again? Wear your face?"

A terror far worse than anything she'd ever felt before gripped her as she brought the lipstick to her lips.

Because, even more than Jack, she realized she feared what she had become during those moments of insanity, when she had abandoned all restraint.

Jack alone was fear. Jack and Penny were terror.

Her trembling fingers paused over her lips.

She turned her head and looked at the shower case again, hoping he might appear to stop her.

But he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere.

He wasn't going to walk into this bathroom like he had walked into Bloomherst, he wasn't going to step inside the shower, like he had stepped inside the elevator and he wasn't going to hold the door open for her –

Penny blinked.

He had held the door open for her.

She lowered her hand.

The doors had been about to close, but he had put a hand between them to keep them open for her.

"You got on this elevator, see? You got in with me. And you really shouldn't have done that. Not today of all days. But I didn't stop you."

No, he hadn't stopped her. In fact, he had made sure she would get in.

Penny clenched her fist around the lipstick.

It had never been her fault. It had never been an accident. He had chosen to do this. He had chosen her. He had known he wanted to die when he got on that elevator. He could have let the doors close. He could have gone up alone.

But he hadn't.

In that second before the doors had closed, he had made a choice. He had decided she would die with him. He had sentenced her to death.

It had always been his fault.

Penny released a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

Then, carefully, she walked up to the light switch and turned the lights on.

Her eyes watered from the brightness.

She didn't look around to see if there was anyone in the bathroom with her. She knew there wasn't.

Instead, she walked to the mirror again and, holding the lipstick to her mouth, she calmly applied the color to her lips. She colored them perfectly, not going over the edges, not pressing too hard.

When she was done, she looked at the reflection in the mirror.

Her mouth looked perfect.


When Harvey Dent's representatives called again a few days later, she answered. She talked to his personal assistant to establish a proper meeting at his campaign offices.

"And you are sure you'd like to get involved right away?" the woman at the other end asked.

"I am actually looking forward to it. I'd like to support our future District Attorney," she replied evenly.

The woman paused.

"Very well, then."

Penny wrote down the date and time of her meeting. A car would be sent over to pick her up. There would also be an escort. Everything strictly private, of course. Did she require any special treatment, did she have any requests?

No, none at all.

"We shall see you on Wednesday, then."

And like that, Penny had made sure she wouldn't drop from Dent's radar.

Because even though the future was still a question mark, the present was a clear full stop. And she would make the most of this stop.

She had worked too hard to look back and had succeeded too little to look ahead.

She would no longer hide inside buildings. That had almost got her killed.

No, she would get out. She would get out in the public eye. Right where Jack would find it harder to strike.