Sweaty, and light-headed, Kala fell backwards. She bounced once on the satin covered bed before settling on her back, her hair sprawled around her head like a halo. More aware of her own beauty now, she wore nothing but a few pieces of jewelry. The insecure, teenage mental patient was far behind her. She had blossomed into a beautiful, confident twenty. The Joker's death, the burning of Arkham, her stint in a farmhouse, all seemed so long ago.
As she caught her breath, she rolled to her stomach, propped up on an elbow, and ran her other hand through her untamed hair. The T.V. lit up before her.
A brunette reporter was speaking, standing in front of flashing patrol cars. "Join us for more details on the story of our nightmares. While many hoped for peace after the passing of Gotham's premiere crime lord, they are learning that peace is far from the truth. As the reign of the Scarecrow intensifies, a new, unknown threat is leaving a bloody trail of its own. Who could this new threat be, and are they working together? This and more, when we come back. Veronica Vale. Channel 7, news at eleven."
"Perfect timing." She noted, turning to glance at the man behind her.
Dr. Jonathan Crane lay propped against the large, mahogany headboard, with only a corner of the sheet pulled across his lap for cover. He set the remote on the nightstand, and took a drag of his newly lit cigar. His jaw was hard, and his body scarred.
As it turned to commercial, Kala crawled back up the bed and to him. He looked regal, and the room was so darkly elegant that she thought the scene could be an ad for a classy cologne. "If they're already on to me, shouldn't I just come out already?"
He shook his head, his icy eyes moving from the screen to her. "What do people fear most?" She shrugged. "The unknown." He answered, laying his cigar on the edge of the crystal ash tray. "We're going to drag this out for as long as possible. We're not going to let the police OR the public rest in knowing who they're looking for."
She understood. "Like a child...Children aren't afraid of the actual darkness; they're afraid of what might be in the dark." Her twisted eyes twinkled at him.
"Exactly…That was rather poetic." He'd grown more accustomed to her, and spoke more often. Their sex life had grown past sedatives and restraints. A lot had happened that year, beginning with their arrival in Gotham.