Several days had passed by. With still no sign of Jack, Lily became dejected and began thinking she did something wrong or Jack grew tired of her and was ignoring her. Lily was still in school, but school had become so much worse now that she had lost her friends and the respect of the faculty because of her association with Jack. Even worse was that she didn't even have Jack anymore. Still, Lily pushed through school everyday and focused on her coursework and reading in order to help take her mind off of what happened with Jack.

Lily decided to take additional courses outside of school in order to be able to graduate sooner and also keep her busy. After Jack disappeared, she finished her sophomore year and began taking extra courses over the summer. Had Jack not gotten in trouble or disappeared, he would have finished his senior year by now. She attended for her junior year, finishing the rest of her extra courses after she came home from school. Lily ended up finishing high school by the time she was 17. She was still heartbroken about Jack and thought about him now and then, but by keeping herself busy she was able to move on somewhat.

Lily also decided to start college early as well. She thought about it for a while, she considered moving away from Gotham for a fresh start but in the end she ultimately decided to stay. She told herself she did it so she could save money on room and board by living with her parents, but deep down Lily chose to stay in Gotham in the hopes that Jack might come back someday.

Lily also had to decide on what she wanted to pick for her major. She thought about a couple different things, but she finally decided on an English degree. She felt it fit her well due to her lifelong love of English and Literature, as well as reading and writing. She opted for a fairly well renowned university in downtown Gotham, and she graduated four years later at the age of 21.

After graduating, Lily struggled for a bit to find a well paying job with her degree. She eventually got a journalism job for the Gotham city news team. She mostly just wrote stories and articles for the newspaper, but sometimes her stories also made it to the news. It wasn't exactly her dream job, but she was decent at it and made enough money to be able to move out of her parents' home and live comfortably on her own.

It was very late at night now, much too late for a young woman like Lily to be out walking through the city by herself. Thankfully the walk to her house from her work wasn't too far, only a couple blocks. Her boss made her stay late again today to get more stories ready for both print and the news tomorrow morning. He had called her in to his office in the middle of the day yesterday, making her drop the story she had nearly finished writing to write about this new criminal on the rise in the city. All of Gotham was in an uproar over this man – he supposedly called himself the Joker. Ever since the first stories about him began circulating yesterday, it was all the city could talk about. Lily was used to writing and researching stories like these though, after living and working in Gotham for so many years. In her mind, he was just another petty criminal who would be taken out or arrested soon enough. There was something very strange about him though, in the pictures of him in circulation he is shown wearing a grotesque clown mask that hides his face. However, they recently got some alleged photos of "the Joker unmasked" – but they were all very poor quality shots or very dark. Either way, Lily wasn't too concerned. This wasn't the first time a major criminal arose in Gotham, anyway.

She finally made it back to her apartment building, opening the door and quickly skittering inside. She would normally take the stairs, but her high heels were killing her feet, so she opted for the elevator instead. She opened the door, stepped inside and pushed the third floor button, watching as the doors closed and leaning her back against the interior wall while she waited for the short ride up to her floor. The doors sprung open, and she lazily shuffled out of the doors and made her way to her apartment near the end of the hall.

She stood in front of her door, fumbling around in her purse for a minute or two trying to find her keys. She let out a slight grunt, eventually finding them and sticking them in the lock. She twisted the set of keys, pushing open the door before quickly turning back around to face the hallway outside. She noticed a strange, stale smell in her apartment when she walked in but thought nothing more of it. She pushed the door closed gently, turning the lock on the inside of the door as well as using her key to lock the deadbolt before tossing them back in to her purse. She let out another annoyed groan, tossing her purse on to the nearby couch before leaning down to pull off her high heels, tossing them haphazardly next to the door with a clatter.

"A bit late to just be getting home from work, isn't it?"

Lily's heart stopped, she froze in her position in front of the door. Her chest started heaving up and down with each shallow breath she took. Someone was in her apartment.

She took a deep breath, slowly standing up from the half hunched over position she was in. She turned around slowly, squinting her eyes to try to adjust to the darkness. In front of her window, she saw the silhouette of a tall man. He was looking outside, with a burning cigarette in his right hand. The stale smell…

Every single fiber of her being was screaming at her, urging her to run. But, she couldn't. Not without her keys, which were somewhere in her bottomless pit of her purse, over on the couch near where this strange man stood. She began making calculations and hypothetical situations in her mind, trying to decide if she could get to her purse and find her keys in time to run, but her thoughts were interrupted.

The man's husky voice spoke up again. "Not interested in small talk?" He muttered as he continued to stand there in front of her window, staring at the buildings outside as he raised the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling gently.

Lily felt a slight rage bubbling up inside of her. She remained near the door, swallowing the large lump in her throat before speaking up.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, or how you got in here but I think you should go," she retorted, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

He simply ignored her, continuing to stand in her house while smoking his cigarette. Lily still stood there by the door; her breath coming out in quick and shallow bursts. He wasn't budging, and she was growing more and more impatient. Her eyes had become more adjusted to the darkness, and her eyes darted over to her kitchenette, where she noticed the knife block sitting atop the island. She quietly tiptoed over, keeping her eyes fixated on his back while she pulled one of the knives out slowly. She swallowed hard again, her heart pumping furiously and the sound reverberating loudly in her ears. She started towards him, moving slowly and quietly. Once she was a few feet behind him, she cleared her throat loudly.

"Please leave. I'm warning you." She choked out, clenching the knife blade tightly in her right hand. She watched him as he glanced at her ever so slightly over his broad shoulder, staring at her for a few moments before returning his gaze ahead of him. Lily stood there for a few moments, waiting. When he did and said nothing, she inhaled sharply and threw herself at him, knife raised above her shoulder, as she was ready to strike.

Before her knife could make contact with his body, she felt a strong pressure on her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat, as she realized he had spun himself around and grabbed hold of the hand holding the sharp knife. His movement was incredibly swift and nimble; she hadn't even realized he moved until he already stopped her. She felt the cool sensation of leather firmly wrapped around her wrist, his gloved hand lifting her wrist above her head as he simultaneously spun around, effectively switching places with her. She felt his other hand pressing firmly against her shoulder, forcefully pressing her back against the cool window paine and causing her to gasp, effectively pinning her in place while he still maintained a firm grip on her other hand, holding it above her head still. She still gripped the knife handle tightly in her hand, her frightened eyes darting to him. The moonlight shone through the window, illuminating his face. She could see him better now, noticing the tousled green curls that framed his face, with a few messy strands in front of his eyes. His eyes were rimmed with black greasepaint, to match his dark and enticing irises. His whole face had a layer of white greasepaint as well, and lastly her eyes were drawn down to his lips. His still-burning cigarette rested gently between blood red lips, tiny strings of smoke floated up from the end. The paint continued up his cheeks as well, where she noticed large, grotesque scars that formed at the corners of his mouth. Her eyes darted back up to his, and she stared into them. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, she knew exactly who this man was.

The Joker.

She remembered the photos she had seen at work, of the man in the clown mask as well as the unmasked ones. She remembered how dark the area around the eyes was in those photos, and the pale looking skin. She choked slightly, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. He just stared at her, saying nothing.

"Please…" she begged, "Don't hurt me." Tears began welling up in her delicate, bright blue eyes. She watched him as he let out a light chuckle, a smirk creeping across his lips and making his scars move.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said as he released his grip from her wrist, which fell down to her side. His hand moved away from her shoulder as well as he stepped back slightly, leaning against the back of the small white chair that sat perpendicular to the couch as he reached a hand up to take the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling a small cloud of smoke.

Lily was overwhelmed with emotions. Her heart was still beating rapidly, and she still clutched the knife tightly in her hand. Why was The Joker of all people in her apartment, and why hadn't he tortured her or tried to kill her or something? Was this one of his sick, twisted games? She continued to stand there against the window, unsure of what to do. She inhaled slowly, swallowing before opening her mouth to speak.

"Why, then?" She said as she watched him continue to stand there nonchalantly.

He leaned over to the small end table next to the chair, tossing the half-smoked cigarette into an empty wine glass. "I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd stop by and say hello."

"What are you talking about?!" Lily shouted, making her way over to him. She stood in front of him now, confusion written across her face. "You're just some petty criminal, I've never even met you! Why are you in my fucking house?"

He stood up a little straighter, but didn't say anything. Lily noticed his strange attire, with a blue hexagonal patterned shirt rolled up to his elbows, the purple gloves, and a green vest to match his hair. He also had on a tie, but it hung loose around his neck and his top button was undone. She looked up at him, squinting in the dim lighting. She looked deep into his eyes; it felt like she was staring into an abyss. Her eyes darted back down to his lips, where she looked at the jagged, asymmetrical scars forming from his mouth. Her attention moved to his lower lip though, without the obstruction of the cigarette dangling between his lips she noticed he had another facial scar. Two little indentations on his lower lip, which joined together below the lips and made a strange, almost Y-shaped looking scar.

Lily's eyes grew wide, and she felt her heart sink deep in to the pit of her stomach as she dropped the knife to the floor with a loud clatter. She stared at the little scar, dumbfounded. Her mouth hanging open slightly, she stood in front of him and stammered as memories began flooding back to her. That day, so many years ago, one of the memories she tried to forget. The day Jack got into a fight at school, the same day he got that strange scar. How crazed he seemed, and that weird, deranged look in his eye… it was the same one he had now. And the long, curly hair… it all made sense now. This, this man in front of her was Jack.

Tears stung at her eyes. She was overcome with a superfluous amount of emotions, not quite sure how to react. She continued to just stand there, staring at him with her mouth open trying to form words. The tears that stung her eyes spilled down her cheeks, and she clenched her jaw shut and collided her palm against his cheek with a deafening slap.

She watched as his head turned abruptly to the right, he still said nothing. He slowly raised a gloved hand up to his face, gently and slowly rubbing his left cheek where she had slapped him. His face turned back to hers slowly, a look of malice stung his eyes.

Lily swallowed sharply, looking at his face that now had a large pink smear on the left side of his face. She realized might have just made a huge mistake by hitting him, but she didn't care anymore.

"How could you," she murmured in a low, raspy voice. "How could you just disappear for what, five or six years? Do you have any idea how that made me feel, Jack? Do you?" She was practically screaming at him now, tears flowing from her eyes freely. He still just stared at her with those cold, steely eyes. Her anger dissipated slightly, and she drew her attention back to the other scars on his face. She raised her hand up gently, which was now smeared with white and red face paint. She went to brush her hand against his scar, but felt that familiar pressure and cool leather on her wrist again. She looked up in his eyes, which were still staring back at her with a vacant expression. She blinked back more tears in her eyes.

"What happened to you, Jack?" She asked him in a soft whisper, studying his face. The only small semblance she saw of the Jack she once knew was a small patch of exposed skin on his forehead, peeking through his worn and smeared face paint. He had created this mask, this façade to hide behind, but why? What drove him to do this?

She swallowed again, her wrist still being clenched by his gloved hand a few inches from his face. She quickly yet gently moved her wrist downwards, extending her fingertips so they grazed gently across the side of his neck and against his rigid jawline, which she felt tense up under her touch. She moved quickly, before he could object and leaned closer to him, her eyes fluttering shut as she melded her lips with his.

He didn't object, but instead he just remained there complacent and unmoving. She sighed against his mouth, parting her lips slightly and gently slinking her tongue between his lips, trying to elicit a response from him. The face paint across his lips tasted horrible and chalky, but she was desperate to find some semblance of Jack behind this twisted façade.

She must have done something right, because she felt the pressure holding on to her wrist and the tension in his jaw release as his own lips parted slightly. She seized her opportunity, reaching her hand up further to grab a fistful of curly green strands of hair at the back of his head as she pulled him closer to her, finally allowing their mouths to amalgamate.

Lily's cheeks flushed hot as she felt Jack finally reciprocating the kiss, his lips now caressing her own. She let out a light sigh, not once breaking away from him. Her mind began racing rapidly, remembering what it felt like to be kissing Jack. She imagined the Jack she once knew, with those long sandy curls that framed his face, sometimes with a few loose strands dangling in front of his eyes. She remembered his eyes, those bright hazel eyes with a few sparse freckles dotted across his nose and underneath his eyes. She remembered the little scar on his lip; formed from the day he put his body on the line for her sake. Her breath grew heavier as more and more memories of him flooded in her mind, and she kissed him more fervently.

Lily pulled away after a few moments, blinking her eyes back open again and glancing up at the man in front of her. She looked at his bright green curls, which were slightly tangled with small traces of white face paint clinging to a few strands. She looked at his face, smeared with white, red and black paint. The paint was worn, smudged and messy. She looked at his eyes, which were dark orbs nothing like the hazel eyes she remembers. Lastly she looked at his lips, where that one familiar scar sat as well as the two other large, foreign and grotesque, mangled scars formed at the corners of his mouth. He said nothing to her, and wasn't trying to explain anything about what had happened to him or trying to kiss her again, or anything. He just stood there in front of her, his eyes never leaving hers.

She sighed quietly, untangling her hand from his curled hair and stepping back slightly. She began to wonder if the man she once knew was lost forever now, trapped behind a false exterior. She wanted to cry, or lash out at him, or feel something. But she just felt empty, her eyes darting down toward her feet.

She watched him in her peripheral vision as he licked his lips lightly, digging his teeth in to his lower lip as he tilted his head slightly. She saw him make his way over to her kitchenette, but didn't pay him and mind. He came back a moment later, with a wine bottle and empty glass in his hands. He sat them down on the end table, before pushing the chair around to face the large window. He made his way over to her, standing in front of her and bending down slightly, as if he was trying to make eye contact but her eyes stayed fixated on the ground. He leaned back up, tonguing at one of his scars at the corner of his mouth before he spoke.

"You seem stressed," he commented as he circled around her, now standing behind her. She felt the pressure of his firm, strong hands on top of her shoulders as he began guiding her toward the chair. She obliged, dragging her feet slightly as he guided her to the chair, gently spinning her around and sitting her down. He paused for a moment to look at her, her eyes still averted before he reached over her to grab the bottle and glass.

"It's late, and you've got a long day at work tomorrow," he mused as he poured a glass of wine. He set the bottle down on the table again before handing the glass to her, which she took gingerly. He circled around to the back of the chair now, standing behind her. He leaned down slowly, curls brushing against her face and down her neck, sending shivers down her spine as he whispered softly in her ear.

"Relax." Was all he said before standing back up again, turning around and walking away slowly and quietly. Lily looked down at the glass of wine in her hand, raising it up to her lips and gulping it down hurriedly, oblivious to the slight clicking sounds of the door as it opened and he left, closing it behind him.

A/N: I'm not really too sure where to continue with the story from this point, so if anyone has some ideas/suggestions I'd love to hear them!