Jim had been right about his word on keeping Rory safe. When she was recovering in the hospital, he had police officers at her door every night. He made sure that he kept the rotation as random as possible to avoid any internal complications. When she was discharged, she spent most of her weeks in bed. She didn't sleep, just lay in bed thinking. He was worried about her and her wellbeing. She didn't seem interested in anything. Jim took a couple of weeks off to help her recover. Things seemed to settle down, Jerome's influences slowly got weaker over the city, and soon he became a forgotten among Gotham, all he was, was a distant nightmare.

Yet Rory didn't feel this. She didn't trust her freedom. Every time she tried to get out of her bed and face the day, she just caved to the fear that Jerome would have broken out to find her. So she stayed in her bed, where she felt safest and kept her eyes open for anyone who glowed.

Jerome haunted her dreams, which was why she avoided sleep. She couldn't even look at herself without seeing scars that Jerome had left behind. Yet somewhere deep insider agreed with him. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't get him off her mind, and as she lay in her bed trying to breathe through the paranoia, she couldn't help reflect on her first interaction with him. How charismatic and charming he'd been and (even though, his face had been carved out) how handsome he was. What had happened, to such a nice boy to make him so evil? Had it been her and her curse? Was it her gift that had tipped Jerome over the edge and made him into the monster that he was today? Rory shuddered at the thought of this. It was one thing to be haunted by a psycho-killer, but to think that she was the reason he was insane sent shivers down her spine.