Since there was an overwhelmingly positive response to including more of Jack's POV, I'll add more of it from now on. (I'll try not to go into too much detail, because I believe that he needs to preserve his air of, uh, mystique).

Four Months Later

September 2000

It figured that the first time Jeannie had a good sleep in ages, it would to be interrupted by the phone. At first she turned over and tried to ignore it, but after a moment of silence it began ringing shrilly again.

"Don't you ever turn that fucking thing off?" Jack grumbled, opening one eye and glaring at her accusingly.

"I didn't expect anyone to call me at two in the morning!" Jeannie protested. She flipped the phone open and tried to inject as much disapproval as she could into her voice. "Hel-lo?"

"Jeannie, it's George," a crackly, worried voice replied. "Becky was in a car accident and she's been rushed to the hospital. I'm sorry for calling you so late—"

"No, it's fine," Jeannie said, suddenly wide awake. "How bad was the accident? Will she be all right?"

"The doctors think she'll live," George replied. "I don't know how bad the damage is. She might be paralyzed for life."

"Oh," Jeannie breathed. "Okay. Thanks for telling me."

There was a click as George hung up and Jeannie threw the phone onto the bed, deliberating. "What happened?" Jack said.

"Becky's been in an accident," she explained. "I don't know if she'll be fine or not. I might have to go over there for a week or so."

"It'll have to wait. I have a job I need to do," Jack said. Seeing the look on her face, he rolled his eyes. "Not that kind of job, tiger. It's a chemical experiment that I gotta finish—"

"Who said you were coming?" Jeannie asked. "I can go by myself."

"Not now, you aren't. Your sister doesn't need you right now."

"Yes, she does!" complained Jeannie. "What's your problem, anyway?"

"You're not going by yourself."

"I'm twenty, not two! I don't need your permission to go anywhere!" she argued.

"You are not going," Jack hissed. "Do you realize that the mob has connections everywhere? They'll think you're an easy target if they see you alone."

She was about to retort, but stopped mid-sentence. Was her safety the only reason Jack was resisting, or was there something else at play? What was his ultimatum?

"Jack, I'll be fine," she said. "Nothing will be wrong."

"You're not going," he replied, a note of finality in his voice. Jeannie opened her mouth to object, but he merely turned over and went back to sleep.

She lay awake for the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, boiling with rage and frustration. How dare he say something like that when there were times he was gone for days! Granted, he hadn't been away for a while, but that didn't excuse him. This was her family she was talking about. Jack didn't understand families—she was his only family.

But she could still do whatever she wanted.

Even if that meant disobeying him.

Jack always left for work earlier than she did. Jeannie curled up in bed pretending to be asleep while he got ready, and then, when she heard the front door close behind him at last, she waited for another ten minutes to make sure he'd really gone before creeping out of bed.

He would be angry when he got home. So, so angry. But she couldn't just sit around and wait for news while her sister was in the hospital. She hadn't been as close with her family as she had wanted to be in the past years. If Jack punished her—so be it.

Jeannie packed a set of clothes and makeup into a small suitcase and swung it over her shoulder, satisfied. Like she'd told Jack, she would only be gone for a week at the most. It wasn't as if she was planning to permanently move there.

Before she left the apartment, she scribbled a note and placed it on the table:

Gone to L.A. to see Becky. Will be back ASAP. Despite what you may think, I'll be fine.

-Jeannie

When she stepped outside into the cool, drizzly morning, she was faced with another problem: how would she get to the airport? It seemed only fair to leave Jack the car, and she was too far away to walk…

After much deliberation, Jeannie finally decided to take a taxi. The drivers generally were easier on people who lived in the Narrows, and she had just gotten her paycheck. Hopefully it would be enough for the cost of the taxi ride and the round trip airfare.

Luckily, she had a sympathetic driver: he took pity on her and made her pay only half of the regular fare. She thanked him profusely and climbed out of the car, feeling a strong sense of trepidation. How badly would Jack react when he came home? Would he shout or laugh? Sometimes his laughter was worse than his shouting.

She kept glancing back over her shoulder as she entered the airport, shifting impatiently from foot to foot while she stood in line. She wanted to be up in the air and safely away as soon as possible.

The price of the tickets was absolutely astronomical—she guessed the costs rose exponentially each year—but she counted out her money with painstaking accuracy, feeling disheartened as she watched over half of it disappear.

But finally, after fifteen minutes of nervous anticipation, she was on the plane and they were disappearing into the clouds, leaving the gloomy, grey city behind.

When she arrived in Los Angeles several hours later, Jeannie was consumed with anxiety—anxiety for her sister, Jack, and herself. She'd second-guessed her spontaneity for the entire flight and now she was beginning to wish she'd stayed behind.

George picked her up from the airport and drove her to his house, explaining that her parents were already there. Rebecca's surgery had gone well, he said, but she still couldn't move her legs.

The basic story was that a drunk driver had run a red light and driven straight into her. The police had caught him and he was facing charges; but seeing as how he was a minor celebrity their biggest problem at the moment was keeping everything under wraps.

With Rebecca still unconscious there was no point in going to the hospital, so they went to the Rileys' house instead. She and George lived in a small, albeit cozy, bungalow just streets away from the ocean. Mr. and Mrs. Kerr greeted Jeannie warmly as soon as they arrived and she hugged her parents happily, relieved to see them again.

"How's Chicago?" she asked. "Do you like your new house?"

"It's wonderful," Mrs. Kerr gushed. "We really, really missed that city."

"How is Gotham?" her father hesitantly questioned.

"The same," Jeannie said. "Believe me when I say that nothing has changed."

"Where's Jack? I thought you two were inseparable," said Mrs. Kerr.

Jeannie winced. "He had to work," she answered hollowly.

Her flat tone and pained face were obvious warning signs for her mother, who knew her expressions inside and out. "How about we go for a walk, Jeannie?" she asked gently.

Jeannie was cheered by the prospect of receiving some helpful advice, and so wasted no time in leaving. Mrs. Kerr pointed out a path that led to the beach, and after a short walk through a wooded area the seemingly infinite expanse of the sparkling azure ocean spread out before them.

The blazing sun burned onto the sand as they walked leisurely along the beach. Los Angeles felt like a breath of fresh air to Jeannie after being trapped for months in the claustrophobic, suffocating mass of people and buildings that was Gotham.

"So, what's the problem, sweetie?" Mrs. Kerr asked, and Jeannie immediately recounted the events of that morning.

"I don't understand what his problem is," she finished. "He's allowed to go wherever he wants, but I'm not?"

"He's become obsessive," her mother answered straight away. "He doesn't want you out of his sight."

"You mean he's so in love he can't stand to be away from me for more than a few days?"

Mrs. Kerr smiled wryly. "I'm afraid it's not that romantic. When someone like Jack has an abusive and emotionally traumatizing childhood, it more often than not dictates their relationships in later life. Jack had no friends growing up, no pets, nothing but himself. When a person like him marries or even falls in love they soon become very possessive. Their partner becomes everything—literally a replacement for everything they missed out on in earlier life—to them. As a result, they like to feel that they're in control and they "own" their partner, for lack of a better word. I'm not saying Jack's become so dependent he can barely function without you, but if what you say is true then he's definitely beginning to exhibit obsessive behaviors. You might not have realized it, Jeannie—and perhaps even he hasn't even realized it—but over the years he's let you in to a point where you'll never be able to escape. That's why I wanted to make sure you didn't rush into the marriage—like it or not, he's never going to let go of you."

"And what if I leave?" Jeannie asked, keeping her eyes fixed on a surfer riding a distant wave. "What will he do then?"

"I don't know," her mother said quietly. "But I imagine it wouldn't be very pleasant."

To say Jack was furious when he read Jeannie's note would be the understatement of the year.

No, the century.

He shook with anger as he crumpled the paper up into a ball and dropped it into the garbage can. How dare she leave him on his own. It was so defiant; so obstinate. So annoyingly Jeannie.

Jack wanted to yell at her. He wanted to threaten her and he wanted to shake her until she understood exactly how angry she'd made him. But at the same time, he wanted to laugh. It was proof that she did have some fight in her; that she wouldn't obey his every command. He liked it—loved it, even. Jack tired quickly of people who were intimidated by him; they squeaked like mice and would do anything to save themselves. It was so…boring.

But she would never do that. It was what he liked about her. During times like these, though, it infuriated him to the point he could barely see straight.

Now she was on the opposite coast, thousands of miles away from Gotham. Jack walked into the bedroom and gritted his teeth when he saw her things missing. "You wanna play, tiger?" he muttered. "Then let's play."

Although Rebecca seemed to be getting better and showed no signs of amnesia, it was determined that her legs were completely paralyzed and she would have to use a wheelchair for the rest of her life. Jeannie marveled at her sister's fearlessness; Becky was just happy she'd survived the crash. Mrs. Kerr burst into tears when she heard the news and Mr. Kerr tried to comfort her, but it was obvious he was every bit as upset.

When Jeannie couldn't take her parents' grief anymore, she headed back to the house on her own. She was just about to turn the knob on the front door when it was yanked open from inside. When she saw the person standing there, she gasped out loud. "Jack! How—what are you doing here?"

"Hello, love," he said mockingly. "Thought you could just leave like that, didn't you?"

"What? No—didn't you get my note? I was just visiting my family!"

"Do you know how I got here?" he asked. He continued without waiting for a reply. "They have the address of every single member of your family. The mob doesn't take things lightly, Jean-nie."

She immediately looked behind her, half-expecting to see men patrolling the street. "Are we not safe?"

Jack shrugged. "Depends on your definition of 'safe'. But you have to understand that you can't leave like that again." He gripped her arm so tightly it hurt and she felt something briefly press against her wrist. "There's no way I'm letting them touch you."

Jeannie nodded, suddenly terrified. "Aren't you mad at me?"

"I was when I saw that pathetic excuse for a note. You're lucky it took me five hours to arrive here—now, where's your stuff?"

"Why? Are we going to hide?" she asked, struggling to twist away from him.

"No—we're going back to Gotham for now." He finally let go of her, and she caught a glimpse of the object that had been pressing into her wrist.

A knife.