I spent the next several days checking the newspaper even more religiously than usual, sure that whatever he had been doing to gain those injuries would be newsworthy. I was reading my issue of the Gotham Gazette in the school cafeteria when I saw it on the front page. The carousel in the park had been tampered with, each horse modified to sport a red-lipped grin. Afraid of further problems, Gotham PD had blockaded the area and then turned on the ride. For a few rotations it seemed normal, but then the crime became apparent. It had been rigged to increase in speed until reaching a neck-breaking velocity - and then it had exploded. My laughter attracted the attention of virtually everyone in the room. I held the paper up higher to hide my blush and read on. The vigilante known as Batman had been at the scene and then left in search of The Joker. Sources indicated that Batman had confronted the Joker, but the following brawl had ended in the Joker's escape.
I thought of the children who could have been killed on the ride if the police had not noticed the tell-tale smiles. Immediately I knew that the incident had gone according to plan. The Joker could just have easily made the ride dangerous without the warning sign. Maybe it was just my obsession speaking, but I didn't think that the Joker had it in him to kill kids. It wasn't that they were innocent. The Joker didn't care about things like sin, or good and evil. He cared about order vs. chaos, and the choices that every person made. Adults were old enough to have chosen their fights, but children were little more than the petted or battered tools of their parents. They couldn't help the kind of life they led.
The rest of the day went rather normally. When Britney was out I carefully clipped the day's article and filed it into my beloved scrapbook before recycling the remainder of the paper. Britney wasn't the brightest tool in the shed, but even she would notice if a newspaper was lying around with a big hole in it. While she was still out, I turned through the old pages. He'd committed plenty of murders, tons of kidnappings, more explosions than I could count, and even more random and seemingly pointless mischief. He'd kidnapped children before, but none of them had ever been killed. I put my notebook away, did a little studying, and went to bed.
It was about halfway through the night when I woke up. Some unexpected sound had disturbed my sleep. I felt a presence in the room, as if someone was watching me. I couldn't tell if the quiet breathing I heard was just Britney's, or if someone else was in the room. Suddenly my back was greeted with a lifted blanket, cold air, and then cold skin, pressed close against me. An equally frigid hand covered my mouth, quieting my small squeak of surprise.
"Hello Amber," he whispered. His warm breath against my skin caused me to shiver. He felt it and asked, "Did I frighten you?"
"No," I whispered, "What are you doing shirtless in January? You'll catch your death." He started laughing loudly, shaking the bed and causing Britney to roll over. I'd never been so glad that she was a deep sleeper.
"That's a good one. You're worried I'll get sick? Remember who I am for a second, honey. Death and I? We're old pals," he said. I shivered again.
"Am I really that cold? Or do you just enjoy the sound of my voice that much?" he asked. He pressed closer against me and pressed his face into my neck. I bit my lip to avoid making any sounds. I didn't want him to know how much of an effect he had on me. His laughter this time was unusually quiet for him. "Goodnight pumpkin," he said. I was awake for a long time after that, especially as his arm wrapped around my waist and held me. I told myself over and over that he was just warming himself up. Despite his laughter, I was sure he knew as well as I did the danger he was in if he didn't warm up soon.
I couldn't help but wonder why he trusted me so much. As far as I knew, finding that scrapbook had been the only evidence he'd gone off of to determine it was safe to trust his life with me. For all he knew, I could have been researching him in an attempt to bring him down. Yet here he was, sleeping in my bed, cradling me in his arms like a beloved pet. Why had he returned? Surely he had another hideout; it had been several days since he had last visited. Why was it me that he was holding tonight instead of his Harley Quinn? Maybe the rumors were true, and she had really been killed in the Gotham General explosion he had been responsible for a few months ago. Or maybe he just preferred me. No, that was crazy. Wherever he had been tonight, my dorm room had been closer than whatever lair he had claimed. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of him, and of causing mayhem by his side.
When I woke up, he was gone, but he'd left something behind. I didn't notice until I'd gotten up and it fell silently to the floor. A joker card smiled up at me from the thin carpet. I grinned and got out my scrapbook, gently putting it away. I got ready and went down to the common room of the dormitories. A newspaper dispenser gave me what I was seeking for a few coins. Nothing yet, although I could hardly expect them to be that fast. Depending on what he had been up to, they may have not even noticed yet. Perhaps he hadn't done anything at all. It hadn't been long since his last big spectacle, and he had been known to lie low for months at a time. I wondered how many times he would show up in my bed before disappearing from my life altogether. For all I knew, the calling card he had left me had been his way of saying goodbye. I decided that I absolutely had to do something to prove to him I could be more than a warm bed. Crazy ideas filled my head as I made my plans.