To those of you who have read Checkmate, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story! To those of you who haven't read it...I suggest you read that one first! :)

This begins five years after the epilogue. I've explained what Jeannie did during the interim...how Jack spent them is entirely up to you, as that will never be revealed!

Please leave a review letting me know what you think. Even a few sentences are wonderful!

"These violent delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

Which, as they kiss, consume."

-Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 6.

October 2007

The thing about teaching history, especially teaching history first period, was that the teacher was usually the only one getting enjoyment out of the lesson. Jeannie had quickly learned that the first time she'd had a sullen class of sophomores who could care less about the Civil War, and so knew to just give them worksheets instead of wasting her breath.

It was a cold October day, and Jeannie was staring absent-mindedly out the window, watching the leaves blow in the wind. Her students were whispering among themselves and pretending to do the work when the classroom door swung open and a scruffy-looking boy dressed in a black sweatshirt crept in, hoping he wasn't noticed.

"Freeze, Stuart," Jeannie said lazily. "Why are you twenty minutes late?"

His shoulders slumped. "Can I talk to you after class?" he asked, avoiding the other students' curious gazes.

Jeannie paused but ultimately nodded when she saw the look on his face. Stuart was perpetually late and she'd almost questioned him right then so he wouldn't have time to make up an excuse, but something about his haggard expression that day made her give him the benefit of the doubt. It was no secret that he had an alcoholic father and his mother had walked out on them years ago, so the teachers took pity on him for the most part.

"Got beaten up again, freak?" another boy named Luke asked, sticking out his foot to trip Stuart.

"Hey," Jeannie said sharply. "Enough."

Luke shot her a surly look but turned his head back to his desk. Jeannie glared at the pile of tests she was supposed to be marking, but her mind was far from ancient history at the moment. The memory of Jack always hit her at the most inopportune times.

It had been five years and two months since she'd last seen him—exactly nineteen hundred days. It was embarrassing and likely more than pathetic that she kept a tally of the time that had passed, but she couldn't help it. Jack was a reminder of her past that she never wanted to forget, whether dead or not. Sometimes, when she was at her mother's house, she pulled out the old photo album and spent an afternoon sobbing while she looked at his pictures.

For the first year after his death, she'd been consumed with guilt over the last words she'd said to him, blaming herself. Everyone assured her that wasn't the case, that it was no one's fault but the mob's, but that didn't alleviate her guilt in the least. Eventually the aching remorse had disappeared, to be replaced with a hollowness that was even worse in its own way.

Jeannie had woken up halfway through the flight to Chicago, with a very pregnant Emily at her side. She'd cried her heart out the whole way home and spent the next weeks drifting in and out of unconsciousness. Mrs. Kerr had taken the best care of her she could, but she finally became worried about the health of the baby, and the doctor had advised Jeannie to stay on bedrest for the remainder of the pregnancy.

She didn't like to think about the three months between the time that she left Gotham and the birth; aside from being too painful, her memories were vague at best and she was sure she'd been asleep for most of it anyway.

At the beginning of October that year, Jeannie went into labor. The pain of giving birth was nothing compared to the pain of losing Jack; in fact, it was almost disappointing in a masochistic sort of way. She'd almost wished for a sharper physical pain to at least numb the emotional pain a bit.

After a relatively short labor, Jeannie had given birth to a girl, whom she named Lily Victoria Napier, after her grandmother and mother. Of course, Jack had predicted she'd have a boy, and was expectedly completely wrong about it.

Thankfully, Lily had taken up the bulk of her time from then on and Jeannie had gladly welcomed a distraction. Her daughter was the only remaining part of Jack she had left, even if it hurt her to see it.

Lily was quite possibly the most exuberant person Jeannie had ever met. Whether it was making a new friend or learning a new word, she'd made her hopelessly broken mother smile even when she felt like giving up. She'd turned five the day before, and Jeannie had invited all of her friends from preschool over to their house. Seeing the carefree optimism of the children had almost made her cry over again.

Everyone said that Lily was the spitting image of Jeannie, and she reluctantly agreed they were right. Lily had her face, her smile, her hair, and her build. She loved reading like Jeannie, and she constantly questioned the world around her. "Are you sure you're not the only parent?" people would joke, because the resemblance was just that prominent. Lily had even brought a picture of Jeannie as a child to school, and everyone, including the teacher, believed it was actually her.

But as pronounced as her likeness to her mother was, Jeannie could definitely see Jack in her—the most obvious example being her eyes. Lily's eyes were the exact same shape and shade of brown as Jack's were. Sometimes she would look a certain way at Jeannie and she would instantly transform into her father. Jeannie didn't think she would ever get past that.

The second similarity between the two was their heights. Jeannie had always been tall for her age, but Lily was definitely taller than she had been at five years old. She had a feeling that Lily would take entirely after Jack in height and tower over her someday—she was already well on her way.

The third resemblance was perhaps the least noticeable, but Jeannie spotted it anyway. Lily loved gymnastics and took lessons every day after school, something she was extremely passionate about. Seeing as how Jeannie couldn't do a somersault to save her life, she knew her daughter had gotten her acrobatic skills from Jack.

After Lily's birth, Jeannie had continued living with Mrs. Kerr. She'd taken two years off to raise Lily full-time, and then had gone to teacher's college for another year before taking up her current position at the high school—ironically, the same high school that she'd attended for three months before moving to Gotham. Now she was in her second year of teaching, and, she hoped, slightly more experienced. Just after she'd gotten a full-time job, she and Lily had moved to a small house in the suburbs.

When class was dismissed, Jeannie watched Stuart slowly shuffle up to her desk, keeping his head down. "You've been late almost every day since school started," she said gently. "Is there anything wrong?"

"My uncle was just killed," he muttered almost inaudibly.

Jeannie sat back in surprise. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that," she replied after a short pause. "Will you be going to his funeral?"

Stuart shook his head. "He doesn't live in Chicago."

Jeannie nodded. "I'll excuse you from being late, then."

Giving a small, forced smile, the boy turned away and headed to the door. He was nearly gone when he halted and asked, "Have you ever been to Gotham City?"

The question shocked Jeannie. "Yes, I have," she said quietly. "I lived there for almost nine years."

"Have you ever heard of anyone called the Joker?"

"The Joker?" she echoed blankly. "Is that someone's name?"

"It's a title he supposedly gives himself," Stuart said, beginning to become more animated. "It's all over the news. He robbed a Gotham mob bank a couple of days ago."

"I've never heard of him," Jeannie said truthfully. She didn't watch the news anymore.

"Oh, okay," Stuart answered, disappointed. "Never mind, then." With one last attempt at smiling, he turned and left.

When he was gone, Jeannie sighed and brushed the chalk dust from her fingers. Gotham was the last place she wanted to hear about. She hadn't set foot in the city for five years, and hoped she would never have to again.

Maybe Batman would manage to arrest whoever this Joker was. Jeannie hoped he would; it appeared she'd left just in time. What with men running around in bat suits trying to eradicate crime and lunatics calling themselves the Joker, she was beginning to think she was sane. What was next, a Queen of Hearts?

Feeling suddenly heavy-hearted, Jeannie packed up her bags and left the school, kicking at leaves as she walked across the parking lot. It was times like these she wished, secretly, that she'd died alongside Jack.

Unable to pull herself out of her strange mood, Jeannie turned on the car radio on her way to pick Lily up from gymnastics. There was a station playing a song about heartbreak—no—a station giving away free passes to see a romantic comedy—definitely not. Jeannie finally gave up and turned to the news station, letting the bland voice of the announcer fill up the car.

"…We are broadcasting live from Gotham City, where the Joker has just kidnapped a member of the GCPD and released a tape threatening Batman…"

"Good grief, what is wrong with that city?" Jeannie said aloud. Stopping at a red light, she rested her head on the steering wheel. Chicago would never tolerate someone like Batman, much less whoever this Joker was. They'd both be shot and unmasked before either of them could say a word.

"…Citizens are urged to call the police if they see anything. The Joker is described to be about six feet tall and wearing a purple suit. He has dyed green hair and wears red, white and black greasepaint—"

Jeannie switched the radio off, not wanting to hear any more. Every time she stepped out of her little protective bubble, she always ended up regretting it.

She'd just pulled into the parking lot of the gymnastics studio when her phone rang. "Hello?" she asked, not recognizing the number.

"Jeannie," the anxious voice of Emily Garcia said. "Have you been listening to the news?"

"Em!" Jeannie exclaimed. "How are you doing?" It was good to hear her best friend's voice again. Emily had given birth to her son, Evan, almost exactly a month before Jeannie had Lily. She'd visited Jeannie in Chicago several times, but since the birth of her second son, Tyler, the two women had barely seen each other.

"I'm not doing so well, actually," Emily said. "I'm very worried, in fact."

"Has someone made another threat on Anthony's life again?" Jeannie asked. Anthony Garcia had recently been elected the mayor of Gotham, and had to be kept under unusually tight security.

"Not yet, but I think there will be soon," replied Emily. "Listen, Jeannie, how much do you know about the Joker?"

"Nothing at all, really," Jeannie said. "I just heard about him on the radio. Apparently he wears makeup or something."

"All right," Emily began. "I think this is something you need to see yourself. Give me a call when you're watching the news tonight."

Jeannie frowned in confusion, but Emily had already hung up.

Feeling apprehensive, she got out of the car and headed into the studio just in time for class to be dismissed. Jeannie caught sight of a brunette man and winced, quickly stepping out of sight. Harold Garrison was the father of one of Lily's classmates, a young boy named Timothy. At Lily's urging, she'd grudgingly gone on a date with Harold after he had divorced his wife. Jeannie had tried dating again at the encouragement of her mother, who often liked repeating that she was still young and had enough time to start a new family. But the attraction just hadn't been there, and their brief kiss at the end of the second date was enough to turn Jeannie off of him forever. Now she was trying to avoid him at all costs.

Lily was the first one out of the room. "Mommy, look what I can do!" she exclaimed, and promptly launched into a series of complicated moves, ending on her back with her feet pulled up behind her ears.

Jeannie clapped obediently and Lily, sensing another possibility for a trick, swiftly leapt to her feet and bounded into her mother's arms, giggling mischievously. Under the sudden weight, Jeannie stumbled back but managed to retain her balance.

"Can we go for ice cream now?" Lily asked innocently, her large brown eyes suddenly serious.

The door opened again and Harold walked out with Timothy in tow. Jeannie quickly slipped her sunglasses back on and tried to leave as quickly as possible. "Honey, we have cupcakes at home," she told Lily distractedly. "Don't you want those instead?"

"But cupcakes taste better with ice cream," her daughter insisted in her high-pitched, childish lisp. "Please, Mommy?"

Jeannie surreptitiously glanced behind them as she stepped outside onto the bustling street. Luckily, Harold was nowhere to be seen. "Fine, but you're only allowed to have one cupcake tonight."

Lily's face fell. How wonderful it would be, Jeannie thought, if your only decision in life was whether to have one cupcake with ice cream or two cupcakes with no ice cream. She supposed she'd been like that, once, but her memories were growing foggy. It was times like these, when she contemplated her daughter, that she realized just how old she felt. She felt thirty-seven, not twenty-seven.

On their way home, Lily told her all about the new stretches they had done, babbling a mile a minute, but Jeannie hardly heard. She kept replaying the phone call with Emily in her head, wondering what could possibly worry her friend so much.