Things start to spin out of control in this chapter, hence the title Escalation. ^_^

A note I feel I have to add: the "romance" will not start for at least another four chapters. Even though Jeannie and Jack both have realized by now that there is a definite possibility they can be "more than friends", neither of them are willing to act on it just yet.

Thank you to all of my reviewers and please enjoy the latest installment! Don't forget to tell me what you think!

COULD THIS BE THE FUTURE QUEEN OF GOTHAM? BRUCE WAYNE SEEN WITH MYSTERIOUS GIRL NEAR WAYNE TOWER

"I can't believe this is happening to me," Jeannie moaned as soon as she read the headline of the next day's newspaper. "I spent ten minutes with the guy and now I'm all over the papers?"

"Cheer up, at least they didn't get a clear picture of you," Liam pointed out. He squinted at the fuzzy image on the front page, which depicted Bruce and Jeannie (luckily her back was to the camera) talking outside of Wayne Tower. "If they had, there would be photographers outside our door."

Jeannie threw The Gotham Times aside in disgust. Why was it that there hadn't been any pictures taken of their confrontation with the gang? Was her luck just that bad?

"I thought every girl wanted to be famous," Liam said. "At least this will be something to tell Miranda and Oliver about."

Jeannie winced. "Yeah. Sure," she said, not wanting to tell him that she hadn't heard from either of them for six months.

Harriet waddled into the kitchen then. She looked distastefully at the newspaper before turning to Jeannie. "I'll walk with you to school."

Jeannie raised her eyebrows. "So you're going back?"

Harriet rolled her eyes. "I'm not going back to that hellhole until the babies are born. I mean that I'll walk with you to school."

Jeannie gave Liam and Rebecca a sideways glance. They both shrugged. Sighing in defeat, she tossed the newspaper aside and grabbed her backpack. "All right. Let's go."

It was a decidedly warmer day outside. Jeannie took off her earmuffs and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before turning to Harriet. "Okay. What do you want?"

"I just need to talk to you," Harriet replied. "So please don't laugh at me or say something sarcastic. This is serious."

Jeannie nodded cautiously. "What is it?"

"I know the two of us sometimes don't get along—"

"You mean never get along."

"Fine. The two of us never get along and I want to change that. I've had a lot of time to think since, well, this—" she gestured to herself, "—and I realized that I've been rude to everyone because I'm jealous."

Jeannie laughed in surprise. "What?"

"Think about it. I'm always the one who gets left out. Liam's the oldest. Becky's the genius. You're the baby of the family. What am I? Mom and Dad have never paid as much attention to me as they have to you guys. That's why I dated Zach—because he made me feel like I mattered. I thought I was in love with him. It's why I slept with him. He just freaked out when I got pregnant."

"Don't make excuses for him, Harriet."

She bit her lip. "I'm not. I'm just saying—I feel bad about going to Wayne Tower yesterday. His dad was really angry. But I have to admit, it felt good seeing the look on his face."

Jeannie smiled at the thought. "What did you tell Mr. Collingwood?"

"The truth—that I'm having twin girls and am six months pregnant. He thinks it's a good idea that I'm giving the babies up for adoption."

"Does he know they're due on your sixteenth birthday?"

Harriet shook her head. "Zach told his parents I'm seventeen. But the point is, Jeannie, I know you like to rush into things without thinking. As your older sister, it's my duty to make sure you don't go the same way as I did."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to get pregnant at fifteen."

"You say that now. But when you think you're in love and you're alone with him—"

"Harriet!"

"It's the truth, Jeannie. You and Oliver were always very close. I know you had a crush on him. What would you honestly do if you were in his bedroom and his parents weren't home?"

Jeannie ducked her head, blushing madly. "Nothing! I'm fourteen!"

"I'd just turned fifteen when Zach and I first had sex," Harriet continued bluntly. "To be honest, it wasn't that fun."

"This conversation can't get any worse," Jeannie muttered to herself. The last thing she wanted to hear about was her sister's sex life.

"So the next time you're with your friend Jack, remember that it's not all it's cracked up to be."

Never mind—it could get worse.

Thankfully, sensing Jeannie's embarrassment seemed to calm Harriet down. "My point is, everything you do has consequences. Believe me."

"I'm not having sex with Jack, if that's what you're asking." The words sex and Jack in the same sentence just didn't go together. It was like trying to imagine a stupid Rebecca, or an outgoing Oliver.

Now Harriet was blushing too. "I didn't mean that. I was just—"

"Mom put you up to this, didn't she?"

Harriet didn't respond. Jeannie nodded to herself, smirking. Mrs. Kerr had used Harriet's pregnancy as an example of how not to behave. Liam had found a box of condoms in his room shortly before a date with his girlfriend, and Rebecca had "mysteriously" received a magazine detailing the pitfalls of teenage pregnancy. Jeannie supposed it was only a matter of time before she was targeted as well.

"I don't like rebelling against them anymore," Harriet finally said. "I've disappointed them enough already. They didn't want me to give up the babies, but I told them it was impossible not to."

"Are you sure you don't want to name them?" Jeannie asked gently.

Harriet shook her head. "Right now, it's still just like a bad dream. If I name them, then I'm afraid it will become too…real."

Jeannie wanted to say that Harriet's volatile mood swings and frequent vomiting was far too real for her, but she bit her tongue.

"There's the school," her sister said as the roof came into view. "Have a good day, Jeannie."

"Yeah, you too," Jeannie said in some surprise. When Harriet had left, she mumbled, "Hormones. They turn even the scariest of women into human beings."

As she was walking into the school, she realized that it was the first "real" conversation she had ever had with Harriet.

The day was abuzz with gossip and speculation about the identity of Bruce Wayne's "mystery woman". Jeannie was greatly amused by the fact that nobody had yet realized it was actually her, and couldn't help smirking whenever the topic was mentioned. Then again, the death glares some of the girls were giving the picture suggested that perhaps it was better if nobody knew it was Jeannie. There was no way she would able to hold her own against fifty of Bruce's biggest admirers.

Her last class of the day was Chemistry. Jeannie's initial idea of chemistry had always been that of the mad scientist mixing differently-colored concoctions to make antidotes and poisons. She had originally signed up for the course with a vague, foolish idea that she would be learning how to do the same. Unfortunately, what she hadn't realized was that chemistry required a lot of math and memorization. In fact, she would be failing the course if it wasn't for Jack. He was absolutely brilliant at chemistry. Now there was something Jeannie hadn't seen coming.

She unconsciously rubbed the arm where he had grabbed her, hoping he wasn't too angry. What had she done wrong, anyway? Did he have some sort of grudge against Bruce Wayne?

Jeannie's heart jolted nervously when she saw Jack already sitting at the table they shared. She kept her eyes on her feet as she stumbled over to him, half-wishing a hole would open up in the ground and swallow her.

"Haven't told anyone yet, have you?" Jack muttered as soon as she sat down.

Jeannie glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"

"About your little boyfriend."

Her mouth fell open. "Bruce is not my boyfriend! We met five minutes before you saw us. If you must know, I was at Wayne Tower because of Harriet and he just happened to be there—"

"Save your breath, Jeannie," he snapped. While she spluttered angrily, he got out of his seat to get the materials for the lab they were about to perform. Jeannie watched him with her eyes narrowed. What was his problem?

"You're one to talk," she whispered loudly when he came back with several vials of dangerous-looking chemicals. "Who were those guys you were hanging out with, anyway?"

"It's none of your business," he shot back. "Who do you think you are, my mother?"

"For God's sake, Jack! What if one of them had raped me? Wouldn't you have tried to stop them?"

"They wouldn't have tried it," he said coldly. "Not in broad daylight and with a crowd like that watching them. They just wanted to screw with Wayne."

"Well, it worked," Jeannie replied.

Jack didn't say anything more, but she could see his hands shaking and his muscles contracting as he clenched his fingers into fists and relaxed them repeatedly. Jeannie tried to ignore this and concentrate on the solution they were supposed to make, but her mind couldn't focus on the work. She soon forgot whether she was supposed to add water to sulfuric acid or sulfuric acid to water.

"You're doing it wrong," Jack finally told her, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Sulfuric acid is already extremely corrosive. You're just lowering the pH level even more."

Jeannie rubbed her temples. "How about you do it then, since you're so clever?"

He surveyed her work critically before saying, "You really weren't paying attention to what you were doing, were you? I'm going to have to start over."

Embarrassed and frustrated, Jeannie crumpled her paper up into a ball and threw it into the trashcan, glaring at the boy sitting at the table beside her. His name was Anthony Reynolds and despite being a freshman, he had already been suspended twice. Jeannie hated the way he always stared at her as if she was something to eat.

In response to her glare, Anthony wiggled his eyebrows and made a crude hand gesture. "How ya doin', sweet thing?" he said easily, winking at her.

"Lay off the sugar talk," Jeannie snapped. "Stop staring at me."

"Ooh, the kitten's got claws," he retorted in mock surprise. "I'll make you purr, sweetheart."

"Leave her alone," someone else commanded. Jeannie jumped when she saw Jack standing right behind her as if he'd been there all along.

But Anthony merely laughed at Jack's words. "What are you gonna do about it, Napier?" he asked. "Sic your father on me? Oh, wait…"

Jack made a furious move toward Anthony, but Jeannie held him back. "Don't get into a fight, please," she begged, seizing his wrists. A peculiar rush shot through her when they touched, but she was too preoccupied to pay attention to it.

"As I was saying, have I ever told you your older sister is pretty hot, Jenny?" Anthony continued. "Too bad she got knocked up by that prick Zach Collingwood. I bet he had a hell of a night with her, though."

"Shut up," she ordered, but Anthony continued to grin.

"I think you'd be pretty good in bed too, Jean. How loud do you suppose you would—holy shit, Napier!"

The classroom went dead silent and everyone turned around at Anthony's muffled shout. He was on all fours kneeling on the ground, howling in pain. The vial of solution Jeannie had made was knocked over.

"Oops," Jack said quietly, but he was shaking with laughter.

Jeannie stared at him in horror. "What did you do?" she whispered.

Writhing on the ground, Anthony managed to grab Jeannie's ankle with the hand that wasn't covered in acid. "You and your girlfriend are dead, Napier," he growled, and pulled her leg out from under her. Jeannie lost her balance and fell to the ground, cracking her head on the edge of the desk as she did. A sickening pain shot through her and everything went black.

Her mother's voice, anxious and worried, lured Jeannie out of her reverie. She was aware of a bright white light shining above her and blurred shapes moving around. Her head throbbed dully.

Jeannie opened one eye. "Mom?" she croaked.

"Oh, Jeannie," Mrs. Kerr exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"

"My head…" she began. The last thing she remembered was talking with Harriet before school.

"You have a concussion," her mother said. "It's not serious, but you hit your head pretty hard."

Jeannie opened her other eye and blinked at the bright light shining in her face. She was lying on a narrow, uncomfortable bed in a whitewashed room. Her father was sitting on a chair beside the bed. "Where am I?"

"The hospital," Mrs. Kerr answered. "Luckily your teacher called an ambulance as soon as you fainted."

Wearily, Jeannie looked over at Mr. Kerr. "How long was I out for?"

"About eight hours," he said. "It's ten P.M."

"Can you remember what happened, honey?" Mrs. Kerr asked. She sat on the edge of Jeannie's bed. "Another boy from your class had to go to the hospital—I think his name is Anthony. He spilled acid all over himself."

A fuzzy memory began to form in Jeannie's mind. She had argued with Jack…Anthony had provoked her…Jack had knocked the vial of acid onto him…"Oh, no," she groaned. "Is he all right?"

"He won't come out as lucky as you, that's for sure," Mr. Kerr said. "He's had an emergency operation and the doctors think he might be permanently blinded."

"What?" Jeannie gasped, flying up. Her head swam with pain at the sudden movement, but she tried to ignore it. "Permanently?"

"Whatever he spilled was extremely corrosive. You got some on your hand, but not enough to leave permanent damage."

Corrosive. That was what Jack had said. She'd made that acid. If she had only been paying attention to what she was doing, Anthony would be fine…

"Are you in pain, Jeannie?" Mrs. Kerr asked worriedly. "The nurse said she could administer more painkillers—"

"No, I'm fine," she said. "How long do I have to stay here?"

Her parents exchanged a glance. "Overnight, at least," said Mr. Kerr. "You'll get to miss a few days of school in any case."

Jeannie sighed. "There goes my Chemistry mark."

The door suddenly burst open and the remaining Kerrs came rushing in. "Oh, good, you're awake," Harriet said when she saw Jeannie sitting up. "Liam and I were taking bets on whether you would be in a coma forever."

"I wasn't in a coma," Jeannie said while her siblings gathered around her bed.

"They wouldn't let us in until now," said Liam. "It's way past visiting hours, but we swore we wouldn't leave until we could see you."

"You'll be fine," Rebecca assured her. "I had a concussion once, remember?"

Jeannie nodded, feeling embarrassed. When she was two she had pushed Rebecca out of a window, thinking her sister would be able to fly. Needless to say, she couldn't.

"So what happened, anyway?" Liam asked. "The story is that this Anthony guy spilled acid on himself and pulled you down with him."

Jeannie supposed that that was what it would have looked like to the rest of the class. They hadn't seen Jack throw the acid. "Um, yeah," she finally said.

Her family shook their heads. "He should have been more careful with what he was doing," Mrs. Kerr said.

"I guess he's paying for it now, though," Rebecca pointed out.

Guilt squirmed in Jeannie's stomach. She didn't know whether to tell them the truth or stay silent. How loyal was she to Jack?

Luckily, the nurse came in soon after to shoo everyone out. Mrs. Kerr offered to stay with her, but Jeannie refused. She would never be able to sleep with her mother hovering over her all night.

By the time Jeannie was finally alone and the nurse had left, it was close to midnight. Her headache had dulled down to an annoying twinge and she felt very tired. The hospital food must have been spiked with sleeping pills.

Jeannie's eyes were just beginning to close when the door creaked open again. She winced as the light flicked on with a blinding brightness. "Who are you?" she mumbled as her eyes struggled to adjust.

There was a familiar chuckle from the chair beside her. "You don't remember me, Jean-nie?"

She narrowed her eyes at Jack, feeling strangely excited and relieved. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I snuck in," he said cheerfully. "It was either that or dress up in a nurse's uniform."

Jeannie laughed. "So we're not fighting anymore?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Not if you don't want to. Oh, by the way, I brought flowers." Jack reached into his coat and pulled out a bouquet of wilted roses.

"Gee, thanks," Jeannie said hesitantly as he placed them on her bedside table. "I've always wanted wilted flowers."

"No problem." He grinned at her. "And the best part is, they don't even need water!"

Jeannie looked from him to the bouquet. "Aren't roses supposed to be a symbol of romantic love?"

Jack scoffed. "Who cares? They're flowers."

She couldn't help but laugh, and cringed when the movement made her head start pounding again. "Damn concussion."

"How long do they think you'll be away from school for?" Jack asked, moving from the chair to her bed.

Jeannie shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe two or three days."

"Perfect. Everyone will have forgotten about you by the time you get back. They'll be talking about Anthony instead."

"Speaking of which—how did you manage to pull that one off? My family thinks that Anthony spilled the acid on himself and deliberately pulled me down with him."

Jack nodded. "Nobody saw me throw the acid on him, so I'm innocent until Anthony is able to talk again. It sounds like that won't be for a while, though." He smirked. "I did an excellent job, if I do say so myself."

"It's not funny, Jack. He's probably permanently blinded. That's horrible."

"The acid was nothing, Jean-nie. You should see what I can do with a pencil!"

"Don't you feel guilty?" she asked, searching his face as carefully as she could in the dim light.

But he remained cheerful. "Reynolds had it coming to him."

"He's just a stupid boy, Jack. Nobody deserves to have their face burnt by acid."

"Nobody?" Jack repeated. "Really? Then I don't deserve these scars. But I have them anyway."

Jeannie held her breath. Jack rarely mentioned his appearance and she had never dared to ask him how he had gotten his scars. Cautiously, she reached out a hand and entwined his fingers with hers. "It's okay," she told him. "I don't agree with it, but I'm not going to correct anyone when they tell me what happened."

Jack's hand tightened in hers before she pulled away. "But you have to admit, the look on his face was price—"

A shaft of light appeared from behind the door and Jeannie heard footsteps walking down the hallway. "Hide!" she hissed frantically. "It's the nurse!"

The bedsprings creaked as Jack jumped off the bed. Jeannie lay her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing deep and even.

Footsteps walked over to her bed and she involuntarily jerked when she felt a sharp prick on her arm. Jeannie forced herself to lie still as she waited for the nurse to leave. When the sound of footsteps had disappeared, she opened her eyes and sat up. "Jack?" she whispered as loudly as she dared.

He appeared from his hiding spot behind the bathroom door. "Yes, Jeannie, I'm still here. Do you want me to stay all night?" Even though he was being sarcastic, Jeannie couldn't help but think Yes, I do want you to stay here.

She watched his silhouette blur and refocus. His scars seemed even more prominent all of a sudden. "You look funny," she giggled.

Jack frowned. He bent over her and rolled up her sleeve, swearing under his breath. "They drugged you," he said. "The nurse must have heard voices and thought you were talking to yourself."

"You have pretty eyes," Jeannie said, surprised. Her surroundings were beginning to fade fast.

His lips twitched. "You know, you're the first person to say that, Jean-nie."

"Thanks!" she exclaimed, attempting to grin. "You're my best friend, Jack."

"What happened to Ollie boy?" He sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Oliver and I drifted 'part. You won't do that, will you?" She fought to keep her eyes open.

Jack laughed quietly under his breath. "Go to sleep, Jeannie."

"Just don't…throw acid on people anymore," she said. "Please."

"I won't. That trick got boring after the first time."

If Jeannie had been more alert, she would have realized he was serious. But as it was, she merely smiled. "G'night, Jack."

He said something in response, but Jeannie had already fallen unconscious. She spent the rest of the night in a drug-induced slumber.

When she woke up the next morning, he was gone. The only thing that remained to suggest he had ever been there was the bouquet of wilted roses on the bedside table.

Perhaps it was just her, but they didn't look nearly as wilted in the light.