If I'd only known how the king would fall

Hey, who's to say? You know I might have changed it all

And now I'm glad I didn't know

The way it all would end the way it all would go

Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain

But I'd of had to miss the dance.

Garth Brooks - The Dance

The next few days pass by quietly, with Jack and I living like irritated roommates instead of lovers. I move into the spare room. He spends little time at the apartment, and when he is there, we don't speak. I'm not sure who is punishing who with the silent treatment, but it seems to be working for us. We're getting by. No talking means no fighting, after all, which is the best I could really hope for in this situation.

I arrive home from work one night and find Jack sitting at my spot at the island. His presence startles me, as he's not been home when I've gotten there the past few nights and I've grown accustomed to the solitude. My apartment almost felt like mine again at times like that. My reaction to him being there draws a humorless chuckle from him and he brings a glass to his lips. It's then that I notice the bottle of whiskey on the counter - with about a third of the bottle missing - and the unmistakable scent of booze in the air.

"Drinking alone?" The first words spoken between us in days, and they're sarcastic and accusing.

"Join me," he tips his glass to me. "Then neither of us has to."

I feel my face redden at his all-too-true implication. I had been drinking frequently. Just the same, I sit in what was always his spot at the island and point to the cupboard behind him. He stands to get me a glass, fills it and sits back down, sliding the drink across the island to me. I take a large sip and close my eyes at the welcome burn of the first swig of the day. Turning the glass between my hands on the counter, I extend my index finger to point at the bottle. "Almost halfway in, huh? Must be bad."

He snorts a laugh. "You, uh, forget to leave work at the hotel, Sugar? Your bartender's showing," he takes a drink from his glass. "Yeah, it's pretty bad. I pissed my girl off and now she won't even look at me."

I lift my eyes to his, which are glazed over with drink and staring into his glass. "I'm looking at you, Jack," his eyes shoot to mine. "I just can't see you anymore. That's the problem," I empty my glass and hold it out for him to refill.

"No," he shakes his head as he pours. "You see me just fine, Sugar," he downs his own drink so he can pour himself another, as well. "That's the real problem. You've decided you don't like what you see. Can't accept it."

"And, that's somehow my fault?" My eyes are burning into his. I feel my anger grow as he raises his eyebrow and shrugs, suggesting that he feels it is. "Oh, fuck you, Jack. I'm not the one killing people like it's the acceptable thing to do. This is on you."

"No, no, Kayl," he wags his finger in front of himself before pointing it at me. "You were perfectly willing to let it happen and accept the consequences, as long as it meant old Jack came back, hmm? You didn't get your way, so you decided it was wrong, after all. That normal? Think that's healthy?" He pushes his finger down into the countertop. "This is on you as much as anyone. The things I wouldn't have done for you outweighed anything I would have done for myself, Sugar. You know that's the truth."

I let my face fall to my hands as the tears come. "We tried that, Jack, remember?" I sob. "You tried to hurt me because of it."

"You should have left," he spits. "You decided that killing was okay when it came down to it meaning we'd go back to normal."

I know he's right, and for a few minutes, my sobs are the only sound in the apartment before I calm myself. "Why-" I cough to clear my throat. "Why are you drinking?"

He looks up from where he'd been pouring himself another drink. "Mourning a loss," he shrugs. "Cry for help," he laughs, dryly. "Whatever my reasons, it gotcha talkin', so I'll call it a success," he takes a sip of his drink. "You've been like a ghost around here, Kayl. Haunting your own apartment. Not saying a word. Never a glance in my direction. Nothing."

"You're the ghost, Jack," I counter. "The person you were, the man I loved, he's dead. And I'm stuck in this place with his angry spirit. I can't leave. There's a death threat looming over my head should I try," I bark out a bitter laugh. "Half the time I talk to you, I end up getting hurt. Better to just keep my mouth shut," we're both staring into our drinks, and my slightly intoxicated state has me feeling bold. "You could leave, you know," he looks up at me. "I've thought about it. I can't leave because it would be suspicious, but your boss couldn't put it on me if you were the one to leave."

He smirks and shakes his head. "Then you'd go to the cops out of anger and spite instead of fear," he retorts. "Believe me, Kayl, I've thought about it, too. There's no way it doesn't come back around to you getting killed."

I'm momentarily stunned. "You've thought about it?"

He shrugs, spinning his glass in his fingers. "Neither of us is happy with this arrangement, Sugar. I thought it'd get better again. Like it always does," he smiles sadly and looks up at me. "End of an era, hmm?" He empties his glass again. There is enough whiskey left in the bottle to fill his glass once more, but before he does, he tips the bottle towards me. I shake my head. "All good things..." he mumbles.

We sit in silence as he nurses his drink. His words are turning over and over in my head, and I feel my eyes welling up once more. I bring a hand up to cover my eyes. This time, it's quiet. No sobs, just the occasional sniffle. My face flies from my hand when I hear another quiet sniffle in the room. My eyes find Jacks face just as he wipes a hand down over it. His eyes are red rimmed. He'd also been crying.

He looks at me as I move to stand. "Be right back," I whisper tearfully. I go to the spare room - my room - and fish around the top shelf of my closet until my hand lands on what I'm looking for. When I get back to the kitchen, Jack is regarding me with a puzzled expression. I wave a full whiskey bottle at him. "My stash," he looks at me skeptically. "End of an era, right?" He nods. "She deserves to go out with a bang."

I refill both of our glasses and set the bottle on the island next to the empty one. Jack picks up his glass and hoists it skyward. "To us!" he exclaims.

I mimic the action. "Two years ago," we clink our glasses together before each taking a generous sip. "What now?"

He shrugs and take another sip. "I don't know, Sugar, but we've got a bottle of whiskey to go before we need to figure it out," he looks at his glass, now half full, before setting it in front of him on the island. "I'm in no hurry," he folds his arms and sits forward on the island to lean on them.

I nod sadly, setting my glass down across from his. "Me, neither," I agree, wiping my eyes and propping my elbow on the island, resting my chin in my hand. "Why did you sit there?"

"It's yours," he responds without hesitation. "Well, uh, that and the booze cupboard's right here," I hear him tap the cupboard door twice with his boot. "Why'd you sit down?" He nods once at me.

I shake my head. "I miss you, Wild Card."

"I'm right here, Sugar."

"That's not what I mean, Jack," my voice is growing tight again and I take a deep breath to calm myself. "You know that's not what I mean. I miss the way you were before. I miss laughing and teasing. I miss love," I roll my eyes. "I miss not having to explain bruises to my co-workers."

"I'm sorry," he stands and walks around the island to stand behind me. I feel myself tense, but don't move to get up. He slides my jacket from my shoulders and gently squeezes my arms. "I am," my body wants nothing more than to lean back into his touch, but I force myself to stay as I am and take another drink of whiskey. I can feel the tears behind my eyes again and it isn't long before they start rolling down my cheek. He stands behind me as I sit in what used to be his spot at the island, half empty glass tipping slightly in my hand. "Give me a memory," he says huskily, his fingers ghosting up my bare arms. "Something you cherish. From before."

I smile sadly to myself, tears beginning to well up in my eyes as I speak slowly, slightly slurring, my voice thickened with booze and tears. "That night," I raise my glass, pointing with my index finger towards the hallway. "Our first night. Together. You took me to the roof and we danced under the stars. It was so beautiful. I wouldn't change that for anything. Even now," my voice wavers, nearly breaking again. "You were so gentle. So perfect. Caring. You took such care then. In everything," I sniffle, using my glass-holding hand to wipe under my nose before taking a swig of whiskey, relishing the burn as it slides down my throat. "Having a drink with you was a happy occasion in those days," I laugh a bitter, sad laugh. "You hated it when I cried," my voice quavers painfully as I say this. "Look how far you've come. Where did you go, Jack? How did things get so-" I stop talking as I spin in the stool. The spot where he had been standing now empty, the door to the apartment still open where he'd left. I feel my body jerk with a sob. He actually left. Like I asked him to. However terrible he'd been, whatever awful things he'd done, in that moment he cared enough to do the right thing. For the first time in months, I feel some semblance of peace.

...

A/N - Sorry for the long wait and the short chapter! This is a bit of a filler, but it is important (and you will all see why soon). The next chapter will be longer. I feel awful for the long wait. Things have been crazy for me. The good new is, I have much of the next couple chapters ready to go, it all just needs to be sewn together, so to speak. I hope that, at least, part of the point of this chapter is clear, that Kaylie's no saint and Jack (my version) isn't a born monster. He is battling things just like she is. They're both on downward spirals as it stands.

Do you think Jack really left? The next chapter really shouldn't be such a long wait, so you'll find out soon. Anyone else itching for episode 2 of The Joker Blogs : One Bad Day? I sure am!

As always, you guys are the raddest of rats. Thanks a million!