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“Well, this feels familiar,” Edward muttered as handcuffs were secured around his wrists. He eyed them distastefully, then his arm was taken in a gloved hand and he was led down the path from the Ace Chemicals plant’s front door.
Batman said nothing in return, simply kept a loose grip on his arm; for a moment, Edward taunted the idea that the Bat actually trusted him enough not to run away before he realised that that might’ve actually been the case. The absurdity of it made him burst into giggles, to which Batman raised an eyebrow and Edward awkwardly coughed to bring himself to a stop.
“Unhand me!” came the Southern-accent-laced voice of the Scarecrow, whose arm Batman was holding in his other hand. “Ya let me go righ’ now, boy, or I swear -”
On his arm, the caped crusader kept a firmer grip, practically digging his fingers into the flesh of Scarecrow’s bicep.
The masked man wasn’t in handcuffs like Edward was, but rather had his arms pinned to his sides with a thin, yet immensely strong rope that had shot out from one of Batman’s devices. It had seemed to be made specifically for crooks like Scarecrow, who didn’t know when to give up, for even now the burlap-dressed man was fighting against the binds.
“Get offa me! Y‘know who I am, boy?! Ya know who I am?! I am the Master of Fear!! Ya think ya c’n jus’ up an’ grab me outta nowhere?! Ya think -”
“Jig’s up, Scarecrow,” Edward said tiredly, cutting the masked man off. “We’re caught. Now, give Jon back to me.”
It was a little embarrassing, to be honest, hearing a quiet man like Jonathan Crane ranting and raving like that, especially to someone who looked as though he hadn’t even heard him. But then, that was the difference between Scarecrow and Jonathan: Scarecrow didn’t ever believe he was making a fool of himself.
That, and the thicker accent. Edward would’ve found it rather attractive if it weren’t for the fact -
“Give ‘im back ta you? Don’t make me laugh, Nygma! I’d rather hand ‘im off ta the asylum myself than hand ‘im back ta a fucking idiot like you!!”
- Scarecrow hated his guts.
Edward frowned tightly and cast his gaze to his feet bitterly. Always the downside of bringing Scarecrow out for missions; the verbal abuse could not only get tiring, but also fairly hurtful, if only because it was Jonathan’s voice he was hearing when it was said. “I am no idiot. Who was it that fashioned this plan in the first place?”
“Ya mean the plan that jus’ failed? Sounds like something ya’d do.”
“Oh, come on, it was foolproof!”
“Look where we are, Nygma.”
On their way to the Batmobile was where they were, but Edward wasn’t going to dignify that with a proper response. “Exactly! So, we’re caught, and there’s no reason for you to stick around. Now, come on, why don’t you just relinquish control and give Jon back to me…?”
“Ya wan’ Jonny back, Nygma?” Scarecrow scoffed. “Ya can have him over my damn dead body!”
Edward rolled his eyes beneath his own eye mask. “That’s pretty much the opposite of what I want, you cretin.”
“Fuck off, Nygma.”
Edward sighed and looked instead to Batman, brow furrowed. Compared to the Bat, he looked like a shy child being brought along on a school trip that he hadn’t even signed up for. “Can I sit up front with you?”
Batman’s only reaction was to slowly raise an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t like me,” Edward explained grumpily, cocking his head in Scarecrow’s direction. “And he’s in a mood. Per the norm…”
Batman glanced at Scarecrow, watching silently as Scarecrow continued to fight against his binds and mutter his usual rant about being the Master of Fear, so Batman couldn’t dare tie him up like this, he would soon learn better, then the caped crusader looked to Edward again and nodded.
“Much obliged…” Edward grumbled as they approached Batman’s vehicle.
Releasing Edward’s arm, Batman’s hand went to his belt to click the little remote there that unlocked the Batmobile’s doors before he reached over to pull one of them up.
What a strange vehicle the Batmobile was; the doors were more like two, long, narrow trap doors than proper car doors. One had to climb into the little ditch of an interior, two seats up front and one large, curved seat in the back that could hold up to four or five if they all squeezed together.
Taking hold of Edward’s arm again, Batman brought him closer to the vehicle and pushed him down into the passenger seat, then fought against the squirming Scarecrow until he was seated down in the back of the car. Satisfied, Batman slammed the door down, then walked around and got into the driver’s side.
Clicking the Batmobile to life, he muttered, “Buckle up.”
“Would love to! Too bad my hands are cuffed, huh?” Edward replied.
Batman sighed and reached over to pull Edward’s seatbelt across.
“Why, thank you. Don’t I feel much safer, knowing you’re around to protect even the Rogues, eh, Batman?” Edward said sarcastically, leaning toward Batman with an amused smirk.
Batman didn’t react, simply got into position to drive and pulled the Batmobile out of its parking spot, heading down the streets of Gotham, toward the police station to drop Nygma and Crane off so they could be sent to Arkham.
The ride was relatively quiet, besides the grunting and growling of Scarecrow in the backseat; the persona was still trying to wiggle out of his binds, muttering curses when his arms didn’t slip free like he wanted or the string cut into his arms. Batman had wanted this to be painless; it would be Scarecrow’s fault if Dr. Crane suffered any harm.
After driving for a good five minutes or so, Edward spoke up, lips pursed as his covered eyes glanced around the Batmobile’s interior, “…So. Never been up front before. Conscious, anyway.”
There was a pause.
“…Pretty nice car you have here.”
Batman grunted.
“Although, it could do with some colour.” Edward looked distastefully down at the gearshift. “Black’s a little…overdone, wouldn’t you say?”
There was another pause.
“…Green might look nice.”
“Nygma.”
“I’m just saying. You can have an aesthetic, but overdoing it just makes you look full of yourself. Take me, for example: not everything I own is green. Some of it’s purple. Occasionally, some gold or black. Keeps things interesting.”
Batman didn’t reply.
Edward sniffed and turned his attention to the window, feeling a strong case of boredom coming on. Batman was never a talkative fellow, whether Edward attempted conversation or not, and Jonathan was currently out of reach thanks to Scarecrow, so he would have to entertain himself, it seemed.
Succumbing to this fact, Edward shifted in his seat, flexing his wrists to try and remedy the uncomfortable hug of bat-shaped handcuffs, then pursed his lips again as he began to hum. Besides the grunting and mumbled cursing from Scarecrow, who continued his pursuit of freedom, and the rumbling of the Batmobile’s engine, it was the only sound between the three of them, and certainly the loudest.
After forty-odd seconds of humming, Edward swapped it out for quiet singing, “For nooow I fiiiind…The Phaaaantom of the Opera is there…inside my miiiind…”
Edward got another fifteen seconds in to his song before Scarecrow kicked the back of his seat (which actually did more damage to Scarecrow’s foot than it did to Edward’s back, considering how tough the seats of the Batmobile were), resulting in a loud thump that cut off Edward’s little rendition of the musical’s title song, and the persona was snapping, “Shut yer fuckin’ mouth, Nygma!”
Edward pursed his lips again and looking into the rear-view mirror to give Scarecrow a frown. “Not a fan of Phantom, Scarecrow? I would’ve thought it would be right up your alley.” He looked out the window again upon receiving no response, then muttered, “Jon liked it.”
Another pause.
“…He got it stuck in his head.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Jonny did!” Scarecrow yelled, making Edward flinch.
The Riddler frowned tightly. “Alright. Pardon me for wanting a conversation…”
“Go fuck yerself, Nygma.”
Edward pouted, looking down at his lap in response to this rejection. Had simply wanted some brain stimulation, is all. He couldn’t deal with such boredom for so long; he’d even resort to talking to Scarecrow. Oh, but noooo, Scarecrow was too brutish to attempt conversation with.
Hmph.
Boring conversation anyway.
Edward glanced at the Dark Knight, hesitated, then said casually, “Batman. Favourite musical - go.”
Batman said nothing.
Edward waited for a few seconds, then huffed and looked away again. Trust him to be stuck in a vehicle with Gotham’s two least talkative men. Even Fries would be more entertaining to talk to…
“…I don’t have one.”
Edward jolted, blinking twice, then he turned to look at Batman again.
The caped crusader was still watching the road, not even sparing the Riddler a glance, but that had definitely been an answer. Not a good answer, mind you, but an answer all the same. Secretly, Edward appreciated the effort, even if he didn’t appreciate the answer.
Edward scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Everybody has a favourite musical.”
“Musicals aren’t really my thing.”
“They’re not Jon’s thing either, but he still enjoyed Phantom. Well - he said it was ‘alright’, but he enjoyed it. I can tell, I know Jon best.”
“You would.”
Edward faltered, then glanced at Batman again, blinking his big green eyes twice and arching a perfect eyebrow.
At the silence, Batman cocked his head and added, “I’m not blind, Nygma.”
Edward’s eyebrows shot up.
Well. That confirmed a theory. Edward couldn’t say he hadn’t ever spared thought to the question of whether or not Batman had realised why he was capturing the Riddler and the Scarecrow together all the time; surely, as the world’s greatest detective, he would work out just how far this partnership went. Glad to see Edward had been right about something else.
Edward crossed one leg over the other (carefully avoiding the question mark cane he’d had to shove down there) as he turned his nose up at him, shutting his eyes in order to complete that snooty expression he enjoyed doing so much (which was ruined slightly, as his eye mask covered those shut eyes). “Hmph. Well. Glad we cleared that up, then.”
Batman didn’t reply.
Opening his eyes halfway to direct a sideways glance at the Bat, Edward went on to ask, “Since we’re referring to partners in crime, I can’t help but notice yours is missing. Where’s the Boy Wonder tonight, then?”
Batman didn’t answer.
“Well, he’s a teenager - no doubt in some form of education - and you’re being very hush-hush about it, like you don’t want to talk about it, so I can only assume…” Edward thought about it carefully, chewing the inside of his cheek, before he looked to Batman with a smug half-smile. “Either he’s got an exam tomorrow and is cramming in some study time or he’s being punished for doing something you vastly disapproved of.”
The way the side of Batman’s lips twitched, his oncoming frown threatening to pull them down, gave the Riddler his answer.
“Oh-ho-ho-hoo,” Edward chuckled, expression only becoming smugger. “He did! Ohhh, my. What did he do? Sneak out to some party? Brought a girl home without your permission? Or a boy - I’ve had my suspicions - or - ooh. Did he go crime-fighting without you, get into trouble that you had to save him from and now you’re punishing him by banning him from crime-fighting overall for a while?”
Batman didn’t reply. He took extra care in how he handled his expression now.
Edward snorted at the attempt. “Doesn’t matter if you answer - all of them are equally as amusing.”
Batman grunted and didn’t respond beyond that as he turned a sharp corner, the movement of which made Edward fly into the side of the Batmobile’s interior, giving a yelp as he hit the stiff leather. Frowning at the Bat out of the corner of his eye, he righted his bowler hat and narrowed his covered eyes as he noticed Batman’s little smirk.
When there came a second grunt behind them, Edward paused and listened carefully to the atmosphere of the car; silence.
Silence now, because Scarecrow had shut up half a minute ago.
Edward looked over his shoulder at the masked man, who was sitting up with his head ducked and his breathing coming out low and deep. Taking a moment to lick his lips to bring moisture back to them, Edward spoke, “…Am I speaking to Jonathan now?”
Batman’s smirk fell as he spared the Riddler a glance before he was checking the rear-view mirror, looking to the Rogue in the backseat.
A groan came from him, then a tired, raspy reply: “Ya are…Oh…What happened?”
Edward visibly relaxed, sighing softly through his nose. Finally, somebody he could have a proper conversation with. He shifted so that he was facing forward again, looking up at the rear-view mirror to keep his gaze upon his partner. “We got caught, dear, that’s what happened. Say hello to Batman, Jon.”
Jonathan raised his head, still hidden within his Scarecrow mask and hood. “Batman…”
“Dr. Crane,” Batman regarded him.
“Yes, it’s always a pleasure, isn’t it?” Edward said sarcastically, smirking, though the smirk quickly fell as the Southerner groaned lowly in exhaustion, and Edward looked over his shoulder at him. “Jon?”
Jonathan took a moment. “…Somebody…take my mask off fer me, would ya…?”
Edward looked to Batman out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows raised as he asked pointedly, “May I?”
Batman thought for a moment, then nodded. No harm in removing his mask, he figured; he highly doubted any toxin was being kept within it, given it was half a gas mask anyway.
“Thank you,” Edward said, then slipped one hand out of his handcuffs and reached for Jonathan’s mask.
Batman did a double take, then huffed and shook his head. Didn’t know why he repeatedly fell for Edward’s claims that he was stuck in any binds Batman put him in upon arrest; Nygma had been a huge follower of Houdini’s work when he was younger. If there was anyone who could slip out of any trap, it was Edward Nygma. Sometimes, he just liked to play the fool; Batman felt a particular kind of annoyance whenever Edward contradicted his own claims.
As Edward pulled the burlap mask off of Jonathan’s head, the Southerner gave a gasp, a chill washing over his skin as his face was exposed to the air. The mask was tossed down beside him, Edward managed to push his hood down, and Jonathan panted lowly, then leaned back in his seat and laid his head upon the leather.
Edward’s brow furrowed as he watched him. “Jon? Are you alright?”
“…’m tired, Ed…”
“Yes, I see that, but…” Edward shifted in his seat to get a better look at his partner; a thin layer of sweat had developed over his brow. “…You’re not usually like this. After Scarecrow lets you go, I mean.”
Jonathan’s eyes were shut, so he didn’t share a stare-down with Edward, but rather just continued to pant lightly through his nose. “…Sent me through the wringer this time, s’all.” There was a pause, then he lightly kicked the back of Batman’s chair. “Probably fightin’ you. Jackass.”
Batman frowned at the recollection of Scarecrow coming at him with a scythe (which had been abandoned at the plant; no doubt, someone would find it and turn it into the GCPD). Really, he hadn’t been expected not to defend himself, had he? “You can blame Scarecrow for that, then. Not me.”
“Why would I blame Scarecrow fer doin’ what I brought him out ta do?” Jonathan asked tiredly. “See? Can be obedient, when he wants ta be.” He winced, then shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “Stop…Alright, alright, I didn’t mean it like that, but…jus’ stop. Gimme a break, will ya?”
Edward’s brow furrowed even more, concerned, and Batman spared the good doctor a glance in the mirror. Returning his gaze to the road, Batman said, “You’ll be given your medication as soon as you get to Arkham, Professor Crane. Scarecrow will be gone soon.”
Jonathan winced, as though someone had just shone a light in his face, and muttered, “Don’t give ‘im further reason ta be pissed off, Batman. Please.”
Edward continued to look worriedly at his partner over his chair. It was common for Scarecrow to tire Jonathan out on their heists, but never this much, and never before had he continued to rant in Jonathan’s head like this. A brief, muttered complaint whilst Jonathan and Edward talked during the aftermath, sure, but to cause Jonathan physical pain through words alone? Scarecrow must’ve been pissed.
Edward hoped he wasn’t to blame for that.
He already knew he was.
They passed under a streetlight, which gave Edward a whole new view of Jonathan as some light was shined on the situation; the sweat on Jonathan’s brow had gotten thick enough for it to glimmer and his face had changed in colour.
Edward shifted until he was practically kneeling backwards in his chair. “Jon. Jon, you’re greener than my suit.”
Jonathan grunted.
Edward whipped around to Batman and ordered, “Pull over.”
“What?” Batman frowned confusedly.
“Pull over!”
“Edward -”
“Unless you really do want another colour to be splattered across the back of this eyesore of a vehicle, you’ll pull over! Jon needs to puke!”
Words couldn’t describe how quickly Batman pulled the Batmobile over, but one could still say it was so quick that Edward was almost flung over the gearshift and into Batman’s lap, and were it not for his seatbelt pulling him back and almost choking him, he certainly would have. Jonathan was thrown against the window, where he let out a guttural retch, and Batman shot up in his seat and pushed the door open, then grabbed the back of Crane’s hood and pulled him up and over the side of the Batmobile, just in time for Jonathan to cough and for yellowish vomit to spray from his mouth and down into the drain Batman had parked by.
Jonathan spat out a chunk of half-digested food and panted, motioning with a shake of his head that he wasn’t finished, there was more to come, and Batman nodded even though he knew Crane wouldn’t see it.
Edward’s nose wrinkled in disgust, his tongue poking out, before he called, “Are you alright, dear?”
Jonathan spat out another fraction of puke. “Dandy.”
“Good, good,” Edward replied, nodding twice, then pulled off one glove and reached for his inner blazer pocket. “Well, while we’re here…”
Batman looked over his shoulder to find Edward pulling out two cases, one very obviously a glasses case, the other smaller with two round compartments. Frowning, the caped crusader barked, “What’re you doing?”
Edward reached up and peeled off his purple eye mask, uncovering his eyes from the white films of the mask, and he regarded Batman with a half-lidded glance. “Taking out my contacts, if you must know. I won’t get a chance to once we get to the station, nor Arkham, so I have to do it now.” He popped open the glasses case, taking out his glasses and gently laying his eye mask inside. “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this in the Batmobile, you know. You ought to be paying more attention to the villains you capture instead of, perhaps, chasing after Catwoman or grounding the Boy Wonder. Not that I blame you for the former; been there myself…” He unscrewed the lid of one of the smaller case’s compartments.
Batman’s nose wrinkled and he quickly turned away, just in time to watch Jonathan spew his guts again.
Edward went about removing his contacts, pressing on his cheek and dragging downwards in order to force the eyelids open, his eye staring upwards as he used his other index finger to gently poke with the pad, which captured the rounded film and pried it from the eyeball. Letting himself go and blinking rapidly, Edward carefully set the lens down into the open compartment, screwed the lid back on, then went to the other eye to do the same thing.
After both contacts were out, Edward pushed both cases into his inner breast pocket again and slid his glasses on, then put a hand into the breast pocket on the other side and looked back over at Jonathan. “Jon, I have your glasses here. Do you want them now?”
Jonathan coughed, shook his head, then released another bout of vomit. This one was smaller; things were finishing up.
“Suit yourself,” Edward said, retracting his hand. He looked up at Batman. “Jon will need to remove his contacts before we get to Arkham, though. Have a word with Gordon, will you?”
Batman didn’t reply.
With Jonathan finally having finished puking, Batman pulled him back into the Batmobile and shut the door above them, settling back into his chair as Jonathan did the same into his, head leaned back and sighing softly. His hair was sticking to his forehead with the sweat gathered there.
Edward looked back at him as Batman pulled out of his parking spot, taking off down the street again. “Feel better, dear?”
Jonathan shrugged sleepily.
“Hm. Well, I’m sure it doesn’t help that this vehicle is apparently intending to cook us alive.” He looked to Batman. “Seriously. Crack a window or get some air conditioning. You may be able to stand it, but we cannot.”
Batman didn’t respond.
“Oh, and FYI, Jon,” Edward went on, looking back to his boyfriend. “I am not going to kiss you again for a while.”
Jonathan’s lips peeled back in an amused grin as he chortled slightly. “’s fine, Ed…Wouldn’t wanna kiss me either, right now…”
“Glad you understand my viewpoint.”
Jonathan chuckled again, then shifted until he sat sideways on the seat and let himself flop backwards to lay down. He had to bend his legs, he was much too tall to fit, and he rolled onto his side and curved his body to match the shape of the leather chair.
Edward’s brow furrowed as he watched him, then he looked to Batman and said seriously, “He can’t go to Arkham like this.”
Batman didn’t reply.
“He needs to rest. Scarecrow’s worn him out and he’s feeling sick. If he goes to Arkham now, they’ll chew him up and spit him out. I know a good handful of people who are already there who would love to get their hands on him.” When no response came, Edward sucked in some air, swallowed his pride, and added, “Please.”
There was silence in the car for a few seconds, then Batman tapped his fingers against his steering wheel as he pondered. After a few more moments of silent thinking, Batman slowly replied, “…I’ll drop you off at the station, Nygma. Then I’ll drive once more around the block to give Dr. Crane a chance to sleep. It’s the best I can do; Gordon will know you’re together on this heist, so he’ll be expecting you both.”
Edward arched an eyebrow. “Why not just drop us both off together?”
“Because I know you won’t be able to help yourself from talking, Edward, because you hate silence. And, while I’m sure Dr. Crane is used to it, he needs to rest.”
Edward’s eyes became half-lidded, lips pursing as he stared at Batman curtly, then he replied, “I heard a thinly-veiled insult in that, but…I suppose you have a point.”
So much for a stimulating conversation with Jonathan…Still - so long as he was alright, Edward supposed.
Batman looked to the rear-view mirror again, even though he wouldn’t be able to see Jonathan’s face. “Does that sound good to you, Professor Crane?”
Jonathan inhaled deeply, trying to soothe his pounding head, and nodded once. “Sounds jus’ fine, son. Thank you. I…take back my ‘jackass’ comment.”
Batman smirked.
Edward settled back in his chair, lips still pursed. Something about this rubbed him the wrong way, but he supposed it was the best option, if it allowed for Jonathan to sleep. He hadn’t realised Scarecrow was so worked up, even with how much strength and effort he had been putting into fighting off Batman…or that that even had such an effect on Jonathan. He had half a mind to check with Harley about this sort of disorder; there was still more he didn’t know and he had to know everything.
“Well,” Edward said, still very much haughty despite his worries, “if you’re going to be giving Jon a lift while he naps, I need to warn you: he snores. A lot. Sometimes, like a damn chainsaw.”
“I do not…” Jonathan muttered from the back.
“Oh-ho, yes, you do, Jonathan,” Edward replied, turning slightly to look at him. “You’re lucky I’m such a heavy sleeper, otherwise I would’ve smothered you with a pillow ages ago just to get you to shut up.”
Jonathan chuckled.
“Oh, and watch out for any potholes. If Jon wakes up before Jon is ready to wake up, then he’s an absolute demon.”
“Edward…” came Jonathan’s voice again.
“I mean it, Batman. You may think Jonathan Crane is quiet and docile -”
“Docile? Ed…”
“ - but he is a devil if he’s woken up too early. Sometimes, I try and avoid mornings just so I can skip out on that display of pure hatred for the world that would welcome me if I were to dare leave the bed.”
Jonathan chuckled in the backseat, shaking his head gently. His voice was slightly muffled as he turned his head to settle into the leather, getting comfortable, then he muttered sarcastically, “Love you too, Ed…”
Time seemed to stop for Edward; his eyes bugging out of their sockets, jaw having dropped, he was certain his heart had stopped along with the clock.
Had he…Had he heard that right? Did Jonathan really just…After all this time? After all this hoping and waiting around? After venting to Oswald and Query and Echo and Harley and basically anyone in close enough proximity to him on a bad day, was this finally it?
Edward spun around in his chair, leaning between the two front seats as he spoke, “Wh…What did you just say?”
Silence.
“Jon?”
He waited impatiently, wiggling in his seat in the silence, then…snoring.
Edward blinked twice, heart plummeting; Jonathan had fallen asleep. As if the air had entirely left his lungs, Edward’s mouth hung open and he collapsed back into his chair, staring down at his lap dejectedly.
The more he thought on what he’d just heard, the more weight he felt in his chest and on his shoulders. That…had been sarcasm. Jonathan had said it sarcastically. As a joke. Complete with a chuckle beforehand. The first use of those three words, the first time the L-word in general had passed by Jonathan’s lips, and it was for a joke.
Edward only sank deeper into his chair. He didn’t speak for the rest of the ride to the station, and received an arched eyebrow from Batman for his troubles.
When they finally reached the station, Batman muttered an order for Edward to slip his other hand back into his handcuffs and Edward did so without a word. This caused another confused expression to lace Batman’s face, but he shrugged it off for now and opened the doors to the Batmobile, grabbing for Edward’s wrist to help him out of the vehicle.
As Edward was pulled free, he glanced back at Jonathan; still asleep, still at peace, still unaware of the mood he’d just put Edward in. With a soft frown, Edward looked away and allowed himself to be led up toward the double glass doors of Gotham’s central police station, Batman’s hand on his shoulder firmly.
“I can’t believe this…”
Batman looked to Edward out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Edward was staring down at his feet, pouting unhappily and holding his cuffed hands before himself, question mark cane held still in one of them. “He finally tells me he loves me, and it’s through a witty comeback…! A witty comeback! I waited a year and three months for that.”
Batman only looked more perplexed as he repeated, “A year and three months?”
Edward frowned at him out of the corner of his eye, then tilted his head away, turning his nose up at the hero as he said, “You’re not as observant as you claim to be, Batman. A year and three months.” He held this haughty expression for a few seconds more before it dropped back into his pout as his gaze fell back to his feet. “…That can’t count as the first ‘I love you’. Surely. He said it for a laugh, not out of sincerity. That doesn’t count. It can’t.”
Batman didn’t reply.
…
Commissioner Gordon marched quickly through the halls of the station, a man on a mission as he tried to keep his patience in check; Batman had never failed them before, had never been someone Gordon would lose faith in, and so he knew for a fact that the Riddler and Scarecrow were likely to be on their way right now. But even he was getting slightly anxious, if only because Bullock hadn’t shut the hell up about the prospect of Batman failing.
But, then, what else was new? He was so set on Batman being some con, of the Bat somehow losing and the GCPD coming out on top. A fragile masculinity if Gordon ever saw one; a case of sore pride as well.
Riddler and Scarecrow were always a tricky pair. Separate, they could do so much damage, what with the Riddler’s genius intellect and Scarecrow’s use of chemicals; the Riddler had once taken down the GCPD with riddles alone and Scarecrow had once managed to poison a quarter of the city with his fear toxin. Together, who knew what they were capable of? And hearing that they’d been sighted at the Ace Chemicals plant just made Gordon’s skin itch.
No doubt Scarecrow’s filling up on chemicals to make more toxin, Gordon thought as he headed toward his office, head ducked as he pondered. But what the hell is the Riddler doing with him? Trying to get something out of it - but what?
Gordon shook his head as he approached his office, one hand twisting the doorknob and pushing open the door. This would take more pondering, perhaps a session of questioning with either Rogue, and maybe even -
Gordon raised his head and froze.
Batman was standing behind his desk, beside the open window, and the Riddler was sitting in his chair, staring at him with a distinct expression of…distaste. He was very obviously unimpressed, which became even more apparent as he spoke up, “Do you have any idea how long we’ve been sitting here?”
Gordon blinked twice, lips a perfect ‘o’ shape.
“All because he,” Edward used his cane to indicate Batman, “wanted to be certain I wouldn’t be getting out of my handcuffs anytime soon.”
“You’ve done it before,” Batman replied. “I have no doubt you’ll do it again.”
“Uh - yeah? These things are awfully uncomfortable. I mean, really, handcuffs shaped like bats? Give me a break. Not even I’m that - pardon the phrase - extra.”
Batman snorted, but chose to remain professional in front of Gordon. “Commissioner,” he greeted with a nod before giving Edward’s arm a little shake to gesture to the caught crook. “I think the Riddler will be needing a one way ticket to Arkham.”
Edward scoffed and rolled his eyes. “‘One way ticket’ - I’m getting out eventually, you know. Don’t have to lie just to be dramatic.”
Batman didn’t reply.
Gordon looked back and forth between Batman and the Riddler, then barked out a laugh and smirked proudly at the hero as he nodded and said, “What would we do without you, huh? Thanks for this, Batman. I owe you one.”
“No need, Commissioner.”
Gordon’s brow furrowed as he shut the door behind him, keeping his gaze on the cape-clad hero, who took a quick glance out the window, seemingly checking on something. “What about Scarecrow? Did you get him too?”
Batman hesitated, then turned back to look at Gordon. “…I’m gonna need to hold onto him for a bit. For…questioning.”
“We could do that, you know.”
“Ha!” Edward cut in again. “Jon would run circles around you people and Scarecrow frightens you all too much for you to even try. You don’t need to lie to sound tough, Commissioner.”
Gordon frowned, casting a glare at the green-clad man, before he regarded Batman with a nod. “I’ll leave you to Scarecrow, then.”
After a nod of confirmation from Batman, Gordon reached for his walkie-talkie and muttered into it, “Bullock, this is Gordon. I need someone from Arkham to come down and collect the Riddler, ASAP. Scarecrow will be along shortly.” He glanced at Batman as if to confirm this, and Batman did so with another nod.
“Mm-hm…Yes, of course it was Batman…God, I don’t want to hear this - Bullock, just get someone!” Gordon clicked off the walkie-talkie and walked over to Edward, showing he would take over in keeping the Riddler from escaping.
Edward pointedly cleared his throat, making Batman look to him, and Edward glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. When Batman only stared back, Edward huffed and cocked his head toward the window - or, more accurately, toward Jonathan.
Batman sighed, then looked to Gordon. “Would Professor Crane be allowed to remove his contact lenses before he and Edward are sent to Arkham?”
Gordon blinked, perplexed.
“He’s a bit tied up right now,” Edward added in, smirking lightly at his own pun. “And I just know you’re all going to throw a fit if he dares to do something that looks suspicious. Like - oooh! Removing contaaacts. So dangerous - he might be hiding fear toxin in them. The last place you’d all look, right?”
Gordon frowned at Edward, not at all amused by his behaviour, and looked to Batman again.
Batman didn’t respond.
Gordon sighed, then nodded. “I…suppose it’ll be okay. If it makes this easier…”
“Oh, it will,” Edward replied, then looked to Batman. “Remember what I said, about him being a demon if he wakes up too early? Well, he gets equally as irritable if he wears his contacts for too long. Hard lenses; dry his eyes out. Prefers his glasses.”
“Right…” Gordon muttered, confused, but let it slide. He could sympathise, he supposed, as a fellow specs-wearer.
Another couple of nods were given from Gordon to Batman, then from Batman to Gordon, a silent thanks and a silent you’re welcome, then Batman turned around, cape swishing in the air, as he went to leave them to return to the Batmobile.
He got halfway to the open window when he paused and turned back. “Oh - and, Edward.”
Edward looked over his shoulder; the commissioner’s hand now rested upon the other one, a touch that Edward was keen to throw off as soon as possible. “Hm?”
“…I don’t think it counts.”
With a loud huff of indignation and a brief splutter of nonsense, Edward threw his head back and proclaimed to the room, “I knew it! Ohhh, Jonathan Crane, you are so getting it when we’re in Arkham together, I swear -”
The slam of the window cut off his rant.
Smirking in amusement, Batman marched right on back to the Batmobile, unlocking the vehicle and climbing into the driver’s seat once more. Pulling down the door, Batman buckled his seatbelt and returned his hands to the wheel, speaking aloud to the sleeping man in the backseat, “Once more around the block, Professor Crane. As promised.”
Revving up the engine again, the hero pulled out of his parking spot before the station and drove out onto the main road, speeding down it with the skill of a professional, doing no damage to other vehicles nor bystanders as he went. Expert eyes watched the road; the Bat listened carefully to Jonathan’s breathing behind him to ensure himself that the man was still sleeping. He was no professional on how the transition between Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow worked, so he wanted to be certain on what he was dealing with here. After all, Edward had said feeling sick after Scarecrow let Jonathan go was unusual, though Batman was inclined to believe it must’ve been a combination of persona shift and travel sickness.
It was a minute more of carefully watching the road before he heard shuffling behind him and Batman’s gaze flicked to the rear-view mirror; Jonathan was sitting up, head ducked forward with his rust-coloured hair sweeping over his eyes.
He hadn’t hit anything; he couldn’t think of any reason Jonathan would awaken besides that, so Edward couldn’t blame him if he heard about this later - or if he had to deal with this so-called ‘demon’ that a sleep-deprived Crane turned into.
Batman returned his gaze to the road as he spoke, “Not feeling tired anymore, Dr. Crane?”
He got no response.
Gaze flicked to the mirror again. Lips tightened and pressed together, his gentler tone disappearing in an instant. “…Scarecrow.”
Scarecrow’s lips were peeled back in a wide grin, similarly wide eyes staring at Batman in the mirror before them, pupils tiny dots amongst the brown irises. He didn’t blink, and his gruff voice came out slow and calculating, “Batman.”
Batman watched Scarecrow carefully in the mirror before being forced to watch the road once more, glancing back at the persona as soon as he was sure he could.
“I must thank ya,” Scarecrow said slowly, “fer gettin’ rid o’ that annoyance for me. He was makin’ it awfully difficult ta stick around. So…much obliged.”
Batman frowned; despite himself, he indulged the persona in conversation. “You don’t like Edward, then.”
Scarecrow chuckled lowly. “Does anyone?”
Batman didn’t answer right away. “Dr. Crane does.”
Scarecrow’s grin didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that betrayed his anger at that statement. Head lowering, eyes still locked upon Batman’s reflection, Scarecrow shook his head. “No. Ohhhh, no, no, no, no! Jonny only admires his intelligence - he don’t love him nor like him. If he claims he does, well…that’s only cause Nygma’s been manipulatin’ him. And Jonny’s been fallin’ fer it.” Scarecrow’s head suddenly tilted, so quickly his neck let out a sickening crack. His grin had dropped, but the widened eyes remained so. “Poor lil’ Jonny…”
Batman ignored the shiver that was sent up his spine from the crack of Scarecrow’s neck; that would hurt Dr. Crane later, for sure. The hero straightened in his seat, watching Scarecrow again. “Manipulating, huh?”
“Ohhh, yes. I see it, even when Jonny don’t. But that’s why I’m around, ya see: ta protect my poor Jonny from people like him. People that’ll kick ‘im ta the ground and spit on ‘im, who will drag ‘im through the mud and leave him ta clean himself up. I’ve been doin’ it fer years, ever since Jonny was a lil’ boy. Tendin’ his family farm with that lil’ scythe o’ his. With me, standin’ over him. Listenin’ ta him. Protectin’ him from harm. From those who claimed ta be…family.” Another violent crack of the neck, in the other direction this time. “An’ Nygma ain’t got no right ta step between Jonny and I. Not after all that.”
Batman regarded him carefully. “…If you say so.” With a twist of the wheel, Batman turned onto a new road.
Scarecrow’s gaze flicked to the window, then back to Batman. “Thought we were goin’ once more ‘round the block?”
“We were, but that’d be redundant now.”
“Oh?”
“That’s how it works, isn’t it? You come out to play and Dr. Crane gets a rest.”
Scarecrow’s grin was back. “Jonny…is much safer in here. With me.”
“And away from Edward,” Batman finished for him, almost sarcastically.
“Now yer gettin’ it. If I could keep Jonny in here permanently, I would. But that damned Riddler…keeps feedin’ him those pills. Keepin’ me away.”
“My condolences.”
Scarecrow suddenly straightened up in his seat; the speed of the movement made Batman jolt - panicked and convinced Scarecrow was about to attack - and he accidentally tilted the wheel of the Batmobile, making the tyres squeal beneath them until he righted the vehicle and snapped his gaze to Scarecrow again.
The persona was grinning even wider, relishing in his reaction, and it made Batman growl softly in irritation.
“Oh-hoooo, but don’t you worry, now! I’ll be gettin’ out soon! Real soon. I can feel it; they’re gonna crack! Ohhhh, boy, they’re gonna crack! Like lil’ eggs, the both of ‘em!” Scarecrow cackled. “They’ll be broken - no. No! Only Nygma will be! Nygma’s gonna break, Batman! Nygma’s gonna break. An’ I can’t wait ta see it!”
“What’re you talking about?” Batman asked, tone careful yet demanding. He was squeezing the steering wheel tightly.
Scarecrow’s grin widened, his pupils shrinking even more.
“What’re you talking about?”
Scarecrow chuckled lowly to himself.
“Scarecrow…!”
Scarecrow gave one more neck crack, once more to the right. “Whaaat, now, Batman?” He chuckled again, righted his head, then stared at Batman from beneath the hair that flopped over his eyes as he brought his chin closer to his chest. “Bye-bye fer now, Batman. I’ll see ya when Jonny needs my help again.”
“Scarecrow -”
Batman felt the Batmobile swerve once more and quickly righted it, grunting with the effort as the tyres squealed again. When he looked back to the rear-view mirror, Jonathan Crane was laying back across the seat, groaning lightly in pain.
Batman visibly deflated, sighing deeply through his nose. He’d let Scarecrow get to him again, allowed him to make him panic and…fearful. Shaking his head, ashamed of himself, Batman continued driving, turning onto the main road again.
He couldn’t let it slide, however - that had clearly been a threat against Edward. Clearly. Something was going to happen; Scarecrow was planning something. And Batman had to stop it or, in the very least, warn Edward.
But, for now, he had another mission.
“...Once more around the block, Professor Crane. As promised.”