Our happiness lasted exactly six months and twelve days. It was truly a magnificent time. We were young, we were in love, it was perfect. We woke up every morning together and fell asleep each night in each other's arms. And we were young enough and dumb enough to believe it would last forever.

The entire time I spent in the States, my parents called me exactly three times. I didn't get the impression they exactly missed me. However, when I failed to show up back in Croatia, all hell broke loose, and the police and both embassies were quickly involved.

The cops burst in one morning into our house, right after dawn, and dragged both of us out of bed. Jack fought like crazy and I too tried to wrestle my way out. We had no real chance. That was the last time I saw Jack: half-naked, his mane flying wildly as he's punching a cop right in the face.

I was shipped away instantly. I asked every single person I came in contact with about Jack, where they would be taking him, if I could see him, at least to say goodbye. Nobody said a word.

Back home, I wouldn't talk to my parents. I sat silently through their yelling. Apparently, I was nothing but trouble and embarrassment to them. I wondered why they wanted me back in the first place.

I kept on calling the American embassy in Zagreb, trying to find about what happened to Jack. They wouldn't say anything. I went there personally, a few times, but I found out nothing. That is until a guy working there got extremely fed up with me, and he yelled at me to google "Arkham Asylum" because that's where "my disgusting darling rots", presumably for the rest of his life.

I googled the term and when I found out what that place was, I sobbed for days.

I thought that the constant nausea and occasional abdominal pains were psychosomatic. And then I realized that I'm not sure when I had my last period.

It turned out I was already 4 months pregnant. My parents wanted me to have an abortion, but luckily, it was too late for that. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't give the baby for anything in the world. It was all I had left from Jack. I instantly fell in love with the baby, while still pregnant. I was still very young, only 16, and never even thought about babies and pregnancies, but I immediately felt the need to protect and care for the baby…and to bring it to his father. Sooner or later.

…

Years went by. I finished school and now I have a steady job. I guess some of Jack's preferences rubbed off on me, so I ended up working as a legal consultant in a special crime unit within the police. Something about men who commit violent crimes attracts my interest, and I use every opportunity to talk to criminals. I guess I am trying to understand their way of thinking: that's something that I completely neglected when I was with Jack. I was too young back then, I believe. My priorities were completely different. Only now, when I'm a bit older, I start grasping what a complex individual Jack actually is. He was and hopefully still is much more than just a good looking guy, attractive in his mysterious and brooding ways.

Jackson just turned 16 recently – his father was 16 when we met. I named him Jackson for obvious reasons – he's literally Jack's son. So it's a given.

But it's more than just his name that reminds me every day of Jack. Even as a child, Jackson was not very sociable. He was pretty much drawn into himself and actually only connected with me. He grew up into a tall young man, very handsome (if I as his mom can be objective enough in that matter), with a striking resemblance to his dad, except his lips are a bit fuller - like mine, and he also has a bit darker hair than his dad. But his natural aggressiveness, strength and overwhelming intelligence are definitely his father's. From early on, he showed interest in fighting, so rather than letting him fight in streets with other kids, I pushed him into each and every martial arts class for kids I could find. I always thought I would teach my children not to fight, but knowing whose son Jackson is, I feel as if I would be denying him his actual nature and heritage. So, if he wants to feel pain and cause pain to others, at least he can do it properly and legally, by doing such kinds of sports. I also insisted that he learns to speak English - sooner or later, he would meet his dad. They need to be able to talk.

Jackson rarely asks about his dad. I told him almost everything..well, I left out some parts. Like murder. But I let him know that his dad is a bit on the criminal side and that some of his points of view are..unique. I only have a few pictures of Jack, mostly those selfies from Philadelphia that I printed out and framed. I felt quite ashamed when Jackson asked about his dad's scars and I realized that I never asked Jack how he got them. I always thought he would tell me on his own, and he probably would have…if things didn't turn out as they did. We foolishly thought we had all the time in the world.

The idea of finding Jack again, and of course the tremendous love I have for Jackson, is what kept me going all those years. However, no matter how deep I dug, I had no luck finding any trace of Jack Napier. I even contracted an American attorney who actually managed to get access to the files in Arkham – Jack was never mentioned. There was no Jack Napier in police records. There was no Jack Napier even in our school's records. It was as if Jack never existed. I had no way of finding Jack, but I never gave up. I regularly googled Gotham and followed all the news regarding the city. I knew Jack loved that city and was unlikely to leave it. Maybe I would see him in a picture, in the background..maybe he would show up. If he's still alive. This is what bothers me most. With Jack's lifestyle, he could have been shot dead a long time ago. I never shared this fear with Jackson. I never said it aloud, not even to myself.

It is early morning and I am ready for work. I have my beige business suit on and my hair is in a neat bun. Jackson is still sleeping – he is in this typical teenager phase where they can sleep for ages and ages. I have a few extra minutes so I decide to spend them in my usual hobby – drinking coffee in my kitchen and googling Gotham. One story immediately catches my eye, since it is spread all over my phone in big letters:

WORLD EXCLUSIVE

PICTURES NEVER SEEN BEFORE

THIS IS THE JOKER

BATMAN'S NEWEST AND DEADLIEST ENEMY

…AND HE HAS A MESSAGE. BUT FOR WHOM?

I heard about Joker before, I think he claimed responsibility for blowing up some buildings or something like that, but I never saw his face. So, I click on the photo gallery.

The bizarre makeup can't hide his beautiful eyes, and no amount of red greasepaint can make me forget the lips I kissed so often, and I recognize his wild hair, too.

It is Jack.

Jack.

My heart starts beating like crazy.

I don't care about the makeup, I know Jack. This is Jack.

Jack is the Joker? Whatever, he can be the queen of England for all I care.

Jack is alive. Jack is ok, apparently bombing the city and driving everybody insane. I cry and I laugh in the same time.

My Jack. My son's father.

I now completely break down in tears. My entire body shivers and trembles. For so long, I was scared that I was alone, and that he could be dead somewhere. But, he's here. He exists. And I can find him. And I will find him, somehow.

"Mom?", I hear Jackson's sleepy voice. I cover my eyes with one hand and try to wave him off with the other.

"Go back to sleep, sweetie…I'm ok", I try to pretend as if I'm ok.

"Why are you crying? What's going on?", Jackson will not be fooled or ordered around.

"It's just that..", I sigh as tears keep on flowing from my eyes like small waterfalls, and my makeup is completely ruined. Jackson notices my phone in my hand and quickly grabs it.

"Is someone sending you upsetting messages?", he asks and then glances at the screen, "Who's that?"

I don't answer because I can see the realization already forming on his face.

"Is that..dad?", Jackson's eyebrows are so high up they nearly disappear under his hairline.

"Yes", I nod.

"My dad's blowing up Gotham while wearing make up?", Jackson is close to laughing out loud and actually, so am I, even through all my tears.

"Yup.", I nod again.

"Well, you said he was a bit unique", Jackson shrugs his shoulders and puts down the phone. He then turns to make himself some cereal like every morning. He eats his breakfast peacefully as if nothing happened. That kid's got nerves of steel. Another trait of his father's.

In the meantime, I keep on going through all the photos of Jack, or rather of this Joker persona he uses. And then I finally come across the photo that takes my breath away. Jack/Joker stares right into the camera, his facial expression unreadable, but he holds in one hand a piece of paper on which he wrote in big capital letters "COME BACK, COME BACK, WHEREVER YOU ARE", and in the other hand, a Zippo, actually the Zippo, the one with the little Joker, the one I got him all these years ago.

"Jackson, pack your stuff", I immediately say through a fresh wave of tears.

"Now what?", my moody son rolls his eyes.

"Dad wants us home.", I smile and I know things will be all right.

THE END

A/N: So here we are, this is the last chapter! How did you like it?

How would you guys feel about a sequel? I'm thinking about it but am not sure yet.

Thank you, guys, again for the favs, follows and reviews! I had a blast with this story and I hope you did, too!