Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was late, that much you could be sure of when you squinted your crusted eyelids open. Even in the darkness of your room, things still seemed too bright for you, and you groaned, pulling the bundled thick covers closer to your face—only pausing as something restrained you from fully submerging yourself back into the depths of your dreams. Something… heavy and strong seemed to be weighing down the covers from behind you and it was only with the creak of the old metal bed frame you were fully alert and snapping your head 360 to find the source of the noise that you saw Edward Nigma- The Riddler- half crouching half laying in bed with you.

You could make out his distinct features even in the windowless room's darkness. His lean form awkwardly curled up next to you on the small hospital mattress, and his skinny face held fine lines of age that crept across his forehead and eyes. His somewhat short hair was tufted up messily atop his head—like he’d been tossing and turning within his cell for a while—and his slightly purple-tinted glasses sat haphazardly on the bridge of his nose.

For a moment all that passed between the two of you was a pregnant silence- Edward’s blue gaze practically popping forth from his eye sockets; as if he was just as surprised as you were to be here. When the initial shock of his presence within you finally began to fade, you dared yourself to speak.

“Ed-Edward??... What are you doing here?” Your voice came out small and meek and if you were more awake than you currently were, you would’ve surely cringed hard at how pathetic you sounded within the moment.

Your name fluttered across his lips in a hushed voice.

“I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Now you were attempting to sit up; brain slowly processing his words in the haze of your slumber. “Go back to your cell, Eddie. You haven’t been offered parole yet.”

A chuckle that had your heart fluttering rumbled deep within his chest as he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. This had you holding your breath. If you had been told 7 months ago that you would’ve awoken in the middle of the night to the Riddler kissing you- you surely would’ve laughed.

Now that it was happening in real-time, however, and that it had blood rushing to your face- there was no hiding behind it or denying it any longer- especially not after the incident that happened early on in the day… you had a crush on the Riddler and the relationship the two of you held was far from that of a doctor-patient. But things hadn’t always been this way, not but a year ago, you were living happily married in Metropolis working your small private practice right out of your own home. But things changed, you felt it building up subtly years before it happened.

You had always been passionate about helping others after a not-so-great childhood yourself, you found you’re calling in psychiatry- a field that you were often praised for delving into but shunned and babied for chasing. The day that you graduated from Metropolis University and announced to your fiance and family that you wanted to work in Gotham City, everything seemed to go downhill for you. Though Metropolis was arguably no safer than the neighboring city across the bridge, the city of Gotham was notorious for its serial killers, gangs, and corrupt cops.

It began in arguments with your family members. Your grandmother belittled you for the very notion of working within Gotham, while your father and older brother tried scaring you with stories of the psychopaths that walked those streets every day. Your mother and partner, on the other hand, were far kinder in their attempts to understand your reasoning- but still, ultimately, tried finding ways of convincing you to stay within their bubble of security.

The pleas and harassment worked and you found yourself for the past 2 years cooped up within the control of the little world that they had decided to keep you in. You ran a private practice within the confines of your husband's home- only working with individuals with minor life inconveniences. You didn’t need the money, your husband was an older and rather well-established psychiatrist himself- but he allowed you to run your practice as a way of keeping you within line- to keep you slightly distracted and just busy enough with work to make you believe you were making a difference.

From the start, you knew it was all a ploy, but you convinced yourself to play along. To allow everyone around you to manipulate you to their liking- because you were so damn afraid of confrontation that you well and truly thought for 2 straight years that things were simply better if you did as you were told.

Well, the funny thing about keeping things buried is- eventually it all boils over and spills.

So you left. Abruptly and without a word. You had the funds to find an apartment that wasn’t total shit, and before you knew it you had applied, been interviewed, and were successfully hired at Arkham Asylum.

In all fairness, you had only applied at the hospital out of petty spite toward those who doubted you—but you didn’t care. You were riding high above the clouds and felt that you could take on the world… until you met him.

Arkham Asylum was old and had a notorious record of housing some of the most famous serial killers the world has ever seen- plus then some. The hospital was also riddled throughout its opening with evidence of malpractice. How the place was even still operational was a mystery.

You disregarded those tales, wanting to believe they were either hoaxes to scare kids into good behavior or were a thing of the past. You might’ve been desperate to get away from your old life but you didn’t go into Arkham completely blind either. You had done your research and knew of how dark the history of Arkham ran, but knew that the Asylum had also come a long way from where it began.

You watched and read just about everything you could consume about the facility before your first day and had made up your mind that what you were doing WAS the right thing and it WAS exactly what you wanted out of your career.

So why did you feel an overwhelming amount of dread build up in your stomach when your car pulled up in the Asylum’s parking lock? Why did you sit in your car a full 30 minutes before shutting off the engine and stepping out into the brisk Autumn cold of the forever cloudy city? You didn’t know, you didn’t want to know- in fact, you didn’t want to think too deeply about anything that had happened within the past few weeks.

Despite how old the facility was, Arkham was surprisingly clean and pristine within the confines of its brick walls. The asylum was approximately a 45-minute drive from the city and was located on a small island of the same name. The hospital of Arkham was comprised of 5 main buildings- the Intensive Treatment unit (which was the entrance into Arkham), the Botanical Gardens (which was highly restrictive thanks to a certain metahuman currently residing within Arkham), Arkham Mansion, the Medical Facility, and the Penitentiary.

The first week of working at Arkham was nothing so grand as you would’ve hoped it to be. You didn’t even see any patients during the first full week of employment. Instead, you spent the entirety of your time being trained by one of your peers, Penelope Young, on the rules, regulations, and emergency procedures of Arkham.

When you did have a moment to breathe from the workload, you spent your time making your office more homey and comfortable- or wandering the halls and garden that the hospital provided. You were limited on what you could do and have, even within your own office space. No plants were allowed due to the captivity of Pamela Isley, you were also advised to keep personal photographs of family and friends out of sight due to an incident that happened last year with Victor Zsasz and his previous psychiatrist- though this was not an official rule that was set in place, all the staff members seemed to have the idea that it was best to keep your personal life and feelings away from Arkham. Despite all this, you managed to transform your cold, sad little office space into something far more inviting.

Your desk consisted of your monitor and keyboard, while a window seal behind you held a few plastic succulent plants for aesthetics. You also chose to add a few tall corner lamps to set a more relaxing mood, along with a simple cream-colored rug in the center of the room and a coffee table.

When the day finally came for you to receive information on your first patient you were stunned to find a file of Edward Nigma sitting atop your desk. You recognized the name and face immediately from the news and laughed it off- surely this was just some sort of teasing joke on the new girl, right?

You felt your heart drop to your stomach and a nervous sweat break across your forehead when you came to the Wardens office to explain the situation. It was no joke, you were being assigned to work with one of Gotham’s most notorious criminals- and one of Arkham’s toughest cases to crack.

You were only given a night to review his file before you would begin your sessions with him.

Edward Nigma’s file was a thick binder that consisted of several pages worth of reports on previous arrests, diagnoses, and notes from other doctors; not to mention a few tape recordings that were fairly recent in his therapy sessions with Dr. Young.

You sat within the comfort of your apartment reviewing the file. Gotham City was freezing out, but the warmth that you’re dingy little place provided was enough to keep your mind focused- not even the distant sirens or stomping of your neighbors was enough to dissuade your absolute enthrallment. You hadn’t even met the man of the hour and yet you found yourself frightened of what the first meeting would be like- was he as intelligent and violent as everything seemed to lead you to believe?

You couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt that coiled within your stomach; and yet, something else began to brew within the depths of your being. Determination was rearing its head within your very conscious- a determination to prove everyone wrong, you’re friends, your ex-husband- everyone! And somehow, some way, you felt that if you could help someone as insane as the famed Riddler- then maybe, just perhaps, it would be enough for you.

You were seated in your living room on the floor in front of your couch, Edward’s file spread out across the coffee table and the only source of light coming from a small lamp casting a yellow hue across the contents in front of you. Your gaze flickered from one page after another- trying to consume and retain as much information as you could about the man.

Edward’s last name was originally “Nashton” until he legally changed it at 18 to “Nigma.”

‘Huh, E.Nigma… I get it,’ you thought to yourself as you skimmed over a few arrest photos. All in all, Edward was a rather… normal looking man. Besides, of course, the theme of wearing green articles of clothing covered in question marks- if you were to pass him on the streets, you’d likely not think twice about him. He was the Head of the GCPD Cyber Crime Unit about a decade ago before he was caught and tried for extortion- after that, it seems the poor man lost his marbles and decided to go full-blown supervillain.

Ed stood at around 6 '1, weighed roughly 183 lbs and had brown hair and blue eyes. You studied a more recent photo in which the patient in question was giving the camera a death glare and took note of his angler features- he was quite pale (nothing too unusual for anyone who has lived their entire life in Gotham), with big ears and forehead and a long skinny nose to compliment it all. Bags marred underneath his eyes and fine lines of slight age crept across his forehead and nasolabial; he also had high forward-facing cheekbones and thin lips.

A yawn escaped you and you rubbed your eyes before glancing at the time- it was only 8:18, still early but with winter right around the corner it got darker outside earlier- making you feel as though it was far later than it was.

‘Okay, I’ll just read over some of the notes from his previous doctors left behind. I can listen to his recorded sessions on my way to work in the morning,’ you mentally told yourself.

Going over a few more chapter-length pages, it appeared to you as though none of Edward’s past psychiatrists could seem to agree on a proper diagnosis for the man. One claimed Edward possessed narcissistic tendencies, while another said he was deeply insecure. He also seems to be antisocial (according to the documentation on Edward’s behavior), and is noted to often have delusions of grandeur and an obsessive-compulsive disorder… which you supposed would make sense seeing as how he’s spent the past 10 years of his life trying to overthrow Batman, not to mention the whole… riddle thing.

‘Edward, you really are an enigma,’ you mused silently to yourself before closing the large binder and calling it a night.

“Patient interview 21. The patient’s name is Edward Nigma, also known as the Riddler,” Dr. Young’s voice crackled to life through the speaker of your car. Listening to some of Edward’s previous therapy sessions was the first thing on your mind that morning and from the moment you stepped into your car, you already had the digital file downloaded and ready to play from your phone. It would be a long ride to work, and seeing as how today was such an important day for you, you wanted to make use of your time as wisely as possible.

The sun had only just risen in the sky, but it would hardly make much of a difference with the ever-moody weather of Gotham City.

You awoke every day at around 5:30-6:00 a.m. for work. You didn’t need to be there until 8, but with traffic plus the distance the hospital was away from your home- you didn’t want to take any chances of being late, not when you had only just started.

Dr. Young’s voice continued to carry through the speakers as you pulled out of your apartment’s parking garage, asking the patient a few questions and such.

“One would have to be severely paranoid to read threats into harmless riddles, Doctor Young. May I test you with one?” An unfamiliar male voice suddenly buzzed through the speakers, sending a shiver down your spine.

Edward Nigma’s voice was… not at all what you were expecting it to be. Then again, you weren’t quite sure what it was that you were expecting- certainly not one so…. Well, you supposed it matched him well. Edward’s voice was confident and rich and held an air of playful amusement- like this was all a game to him (it was). With the poor quality of the audio recording mixed with the natural characteristics of Edward’s voice, he reminded you of a game show host and you found yourself eagerly leaning forward in your seat to hear what he had to say next.

“What is it that walks on four legs, then two and finally three legs?”

You knew this one- it was a riddle on evolution. An infant crawls on fours, and then walks on two legs for the majority of his life before using a cane to walk in their elderly years. Just as you thought about these things, Dr. Young gave a similar answer.

“Good try,” Edward’s voice cut in. “But the answer to all three is a baby. True, it crawls on all four but cuts off its legs and it can only wiggle on two limbs. Give it a crutch, it can hobble around on three. You see?”

Your response was immediate: you barked out a laugh. How unfairly clever was it for Edward to come up with that sort of logical reasoning… a bit morbid, but it was clear to you that he was attempting to tell a joke. Dr. Young, on the other hand, did not handle his answer so well. She scolded Edward and by the tell tale signs in her voice, was very disturbed.

“Oh, Dr. Young. Will you ever lighten up?” You murmured to yourself, pulling your car up to the drive-through of your favorite coffee place. The first tape ended there, and you paused the audio logs so that you could put in your current favorite drink order. After paying and receiving your order; you played the next tape.

Like the first tape, Dr. Young’s voice is the first to come through the speakers. She mentions something about a “Titan process,” and you can’t help but raise a curious brow, taking the first sip of coffee from your steaming mug and pulling out of the lot.

“I’d like to talk about your childhood,” Dr. Young states in the recording, and you can’t help but to roll your eyes.

‘How cliche of a psychiatrist to ask a patient,’ you think to yourself. ‘With conversations like these, it’s no wonder why people like Edward Nigma are repetitive escapees. I think I’m starting to get an idea of what kind of therapy Edward needs.’

Just as he was in the previous tape, Edward’s response is dry and quirky. But then he said something that quipped your interest in him even further, he recounted a story from his childhood. One involved his father beating him for cheating in a riddle contest at the school Nigma attended as a child.

Edward’s tone while he told the story was languid, bored, almost. As if he believed that the violent reaction of his father was justifiable in finding out that Edward had both lied and stolen the credit of someone else's work.

The tape ended there and the third played as you took the exit onto the highway leading to Arkham.

By this point, Dr. Young was thoroughly annoyed by Edward and it was clear to you that there must’ve been quite a few unrecorded sessions in between the second to the third. There was nothing entirely noteworthy of this recording- at least none that revealed to you any deeper meaning behind Edward’s logic, other than the fact that he well and truly believed that he was helping Gotham in setting up death traps and that those who died in those contraptions were entirely at fault for “not being smart enough.”

The fourth tape panned out just as the third, in which Edward ranted and raved, only the topic shifted from that of his riddle traps to that of Batman. By the end of the tape, you could hear Dr. Young call for security and you silently made a note to yourself not to make mention of Batman to Edward- seemed like a trigger for the criminal.

Arkham came into view soon enough, and unlike when you had left yesterday evening, you felt a surge of confidence run through you as you entered through the gates. You knew that Edward would not be an easy person to handle, but studying his file on top of listening to those recordings gave you the confidence you needed to understand him a bit better.

Edward Nigma was planning his escape. Thanks to a few contact sources, the Riddler knew that Joker was planning something at Arkham, and whatever it was, it would be big. Ed had never liked the self-proclaimed Clown Prince of Crime, and from years of working with the other rogues in Gotham, Edward had long since seen the insanity of the Joker and wanted no part in the fool’s plan, nor did he want to be caught in the middle of it.

He just needed to hold on, keep his head down until he finished his latest creations, and then he could escape Arkham for good. He called his newest creations “Riddler Trophies”, and they would serve as a means of distraction for the Caped Crusader. Edward’s Trophies were made entirely out of small scraps of parts he’d managed to acquire from a few other inmates. They were small question-mark-shaped devices with green LED lighting inside- entirely harmless, but the Riddler had worked hard on placing them throughout Arkham in places only the Dark Knight would know where to look.

Now, he just needed to gain access to a few security systems that Arkham had updated since his last stay and place a few more trophies around the facility and he’d be free to leave. His plans and his schemes were what kept him going, and it was because of these things that the criminal found himself in a rather good mood. His good mood and thus his relatively good behavior did not go unnoticed by his psychiatrist, Dr. Young.

Or rather, his ex-psychiatrist, as she had explained at the beginning of their session. She admitted to Edward that he’d be transferred to a new doctor in the building the following week. Edward would say it was a shame that Dr. Young had given up on him so easily- but truthfully, Edward was just about sick and tired of her.

In the beginning, Edward admits he found interest in Dr. Young- not to make use of a double entendre- but Dr. Young was… well, young, and beautiful at that- which meant that she was likely very intelligent to be working at Arkham and to have the high-paying position that she had. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he had a crush on her or anything as such- after all, no matter how smart she may be, she would sadly never meet the intellectual level of superiority that he held… but perhaps she’d make for great entertainment?

Well, that’s what he thought at least when he first began his sessions with her. Unfortunately (but unceremoniously) Dr. Young proved herself to be as dim-witted and dull as the rest of her colleagues. Her mind was simply too simple to grasp his humor, his witty-remarks, or even his incredible logical reasoning as to why he did what he did. So when Dr. Young told him that she was transferring him over, Edward barely batted an eyelash.

It wouldn’t matter anyhow, after all, in a few weeks- possibly a few months, Edward would be back out on the streets again. He just needed to bide his time to slowly put his plans in motion.

Your appointment with Edward was held slightly later on in the day. The inmates at Arkham were put on a particular routine, it was meant to serve as a form of structure for the patients. Often times the mentally ill or clinically insane are the way they are due to a lack of structure in their lives outside of Arkham; the routines put in place were to give everyone a chance to feel a sense of normality- and in a way, you believed it was that exact form of care that these people so desperately needed.

Every day at Arkham started at exactly 8:00 am, except for holidays and weekends- which would begin at 10:30 am. The lights would go on, and there would be a morning announcement [much like a school would have] from the Warden greeting good morning to the patients before proceeding on with what everyone could expect from their day- which would consist of what breakfast, lunch, and dinner would be, and if there were any extracurricular activities available for the inmates to participate in. After that, the inmates at Arkham would be released from their cells to roam and socialize briefly before they’d be escorted by security in groups to the dining hall.

You, a doctor and not a resident at Arkham, could do whatever you needed to do during this time. Which, seeing as how you currently only had one patient to handle on your roster, wasn’t much. So you followed security that morning down to the cafeteria, snagging yourself an apple from the cheerful kitchen staff, and stood off on the sidelines watching as everyone moved about.

The staff at Arkham did their best to keep the energy upbeat and lively- but even within one week in, you could see that it was more for their own sake than it actually was for the patients. From your own observations, there were 3 different kinds of patients at Arkham; the brain dead, the insane, and the famous.

Okay, well, calling people “brain-dead” and “insane” certainly wasn’t the professional thing to do- but they were the words that came to mind first when you saw the sluggish moving patients go by and sit in a corner, rocking themselves back and forth, glassy looks in their terrified eyes. Or the ones who’d scream and yell- kicking at anything that came near them or trying to bite nurses.

The latter of the 3 types, you’d had yet to actually meet- but you were sure as hell about to get a taste of what it’s like meeting the famous later that day.

You’d finished off your apple quickly and ideally strolled around the cafeteria, slowly making your way towards the exit. Your gaze sweeping over the pale faces and orange jumpsuits as you did so. You were looking for him; you weren’t even sure why you were- curiosity, perhaps? Or maybe you were, deep down, still nervous and you thought that if you could get a glance at him- just a small peak at The Great Riddler doing something mundane and boring such as eating breakfast that you’d feel comfort- comfort in knowing that he, despite how the media often betrayed him as, was just a regular man.

You left the cafeteria, a small amount of disappointment settling over you. You could not find him through the mass of people.

Breakfast that morning at Arkham was nothing grand. It was a cup of cereal, a box carton of milk, and the patient's choice of a side of either an apple or yogurt. Edward chose yogurt- only for the sake of attempting to mix things up for himself and nothing more.

The food, however dull it was, was not the important thing here. The important reason for sticking around Arkham were to finish up his riddles and puzzles for the Bat. Nothing more and nothing less.

Edward sat down at the first available seating he saw and quietly ate his breakfast- the patients around him immediately got up and moved further away or to another table entirely and Edward felt a burst of pride through his chest. He smirked. Of course they’d be intimated by him- he was, after all, the great Riddler.

None were truly worthy of being in his presence and few could ever hope to offer an intellectually stimulating conversation. So therefore their presence was better off away from him entirely; Edward reasoned to himself, his blue gaze sliding over the faces of those who quickly looked away.

‘No,’ he thought, ‘I don’t think I’ll be hiding any of my trophies in this room… There simply aren't enough spaces to hide anything worthwhile. And besides, unless Batman decides to grab a snack while Joker is terrorizing the asylum, I doubt he’ll have any real reason to come into this room…’ His mind continued to drift from one idea to another- riddles, puzzles, quizzes all scattered about within the confines of his skull. He slipped out a green crayon from his sleeve- the only writing utensils he was able to snag in this wretched place- and quickly jotted down a few notes to himself on a napkin

That’s when he felt it; a presence of a gaze burning holes into his being. Edward snapped his head up immediately from his food, and that’s when he saw her. Overlooking the patients that sat in front of him hunched over their trays on the table in front of him.

She was a doctor, as evident by her office clothing and white lab coat– but one he had not known before. Not that Edward ever really paid much attention to the doctors that came and went to Arkham Asylum– but the way she carried herself about just seemed… different.

She looked away just as he noticed her and turned to leave the cafeteria.

Edward resumed his work.

After breakfast, a nurse would stop by the cells and perform her daily duties of handing out meds, taking temperatures, and nagging Edward about his weight.

“You’re still just a bit too underweight. Have you been drinking those protein shakes in the cafeteria?” The nurse, a blonde woman in her early 30s who's been working on Edward's side of the ward for the past few weeks asked.

Edward paid her no mind, only grunting out a ‘no’ as he flipped through to the next page of his book. He was partially strapped down to his bed, only allowed a little bit of mobility to sit up and read as the medic filled out a daily health chart in his cell.

Of course he wasn’t going to drink those disgusting slushy bottles of milk. They gave him gas and evidently didn’t work as every time he’d been sent to Arkham, he’d never gained more than maybe one or two pounds. Besides that, Edward was not at all concerned over his physical health- sure, he was a bit skinny for someone his height and age, but Edward had by no means ever been a ‘filled out’ person.

He’s always been tall and lean and, quite frankly, is comfortable in his appearance. Now if only he could get this wrenched nurse to see that and leave him be!

It was finally time. You’d spent most of your morning pacing back and forth in the office. You straighten the papers on your desk and then straighten them up again. Replaying the recordings you had of Edward seemed to have become a small obsession for you. You never really finished them- just skipped around the bits and pieces of Edward talking about his father and making sick jokes.

All the anxiety had finally come to a close, however, as the clock struck 11. It was time to begin your first session with Edward.

The knock at your office door came not long after and you practically jumped up from your desk and ran to answer it.

You were very fortunate to have had the office space that you did to hold the sessions within the comfort of your domain- other doctors and certain patients were not so lucky. Arkham Asylum was once a mansion owned by the infamous Amadeus Arkham and although the facility had undergone quite a few renovations throughout the years- the place was, at its core, a very old mansion, and because of this; every space that could be utilized was. Which, in turn, did not mean that all the doctors got a comfortable-sized office.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself, at the time of her employment, had an office cubicle only a little bigger than a broom closet. Because of this, some doctors had to hold their sessions with their patients (sadly) within the cells that the patients housed.

A security guard, one which you had not had the proper time to be introduced to, greeted you when you swung open the door to your office. The guard didn’t even bother saying hello before shoving past you and dragging your patient by the arm.

“You have an hour, I’ll be down the hall should you need anything;” the guard grunted as he forced Edward to take a seat on the small couch in front of your desk before making his exit with a dramatic slam of the door.

‘Well… he certainly was pleasant,’ your thoughts dripped with sarcasm as you slowly turned your gaze from that of the door to the 6ft something man in orange currently lounging casually on your couch.

Edward’s face reminded you of a Cheshire cat. If there ever was such a reward for the world's most shit-eating grin, The Riddler surely would’ve taken the cake a long time ago.

“Well, doctor? Aren’t you going to introduce yourself? Or shall I treat you as another one of my masterful puzzles and figure you out all on my own?” He grinned through his words, clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation.

A blush adored your cheeks before you could fully compose yourself. You masked your embarrassment with a cough as you straightened your skirt and reached a hand forward towards him.

You felt dirty like you had a secret that you couldn’t let him know about. And, you supposed you did. You’d read over his files and listened to his previous sessions so many times that you felt like you knew something intimate about him that he didn’t want anyone else to know about.

You didn’t, of course, but the feeling was still there.

“Ah! My apologies,” you smiled kindly as you introduced yourself. Smoothly transitioning from that of a rigid disposition to one of much more professionalism and confidence. Edward took your outstretched hand into his.

His hand was warm, and dry, and felt like it had some slight scarring on the palm. The moment was over before you could think much else about it and you took to seating yourself on the small love seat across from him.

“Well, it’s certainly a pleasure meeting you, doctor… Say, I’ve been around these parts before, and I must ask, are you new here? I’m trying to wrap my brain around whether or not I know you from somewhere.”

A nervous smile broke out across your face.

“Why, yes. I am new here at Arkham–”

“And they decided to stick you with me for your first day,” Edward made a hissing sound from in between his teeth. “Yikes! Tough luck, doctor!”

“Well, I assure you that despite being new to this facility I have 2 years of previous experience within the field and came highly recommended–”

Once more, Edward cut you off before you could finish your sentence. This time, however, he did so with a huff and a dramatic eye roll. You could only stare as annoyance began bubbling its way up from within you.

You allowed the silence to fill the space in the room between you, and when Edward’s eyes met yours- you did not back down. You did not look away, you did not give in and allow your anger to show- somehow, someway, by some absolute miracle; you remained composed and collected.

Edward’s grin finally dropped, and just as you saw the tell-tale signs of insecurities crawl across his angular face- you blinked and it was gone. Adjusting your glasses and crossing your legs from one side to the other in the most casual of manners, you spoke.

“You know, Mr Nigma. We don’t have to do this,” confusion furrowed his thick brows and he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side (like a puppy dog). “I’ve read over your files, I know about the kind of life you had growing up, what you did before becoming a criminal- but most of all, all of the previous breakouts and schemes you’ve pulled off. I know what you’re thinking- you see me as some poor fool who got the shit end of the stick or as some overly ambitious newbie full of false confidence who thinks that they’re ready to take on the world–

And you know what? Maybe you’re right- but I know you, maybe not personally, but I’m not blind to the obvious fact that you’ve already planned your next escape and that there’s nothing I can really do to stop you from leaving. But regardless of whatever your plan is, you’re waiting on something and are just biding your time until you escape.

So until then- we can either cooperate with one another and just pretend that these are normal therapy sessions- OR we can sit in complete silence during the sessions and I can focus on my paperwork while you sit there on my couch eating from my jar of candy. So which will it be, hmm?”

You clasped your hands tightly together over your lap to punctuate the severity of your statement, sitting up just a bit taller and offering up one of your bitchiest closed-lip smiles.

Edward blinked. Then blinked again, and closed his slightly ajar mouth, before blinking once more. And then a smile, not the shit-eating one he wore before, but a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Oh, I like you... Okay, doctor, I concede! I shall promise to be on my very best, ultra-good-boy behavior from henceforth! But only on one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Why, if you agree to solve my riddles, of course!” Edward’s arms flung out to the sides to further express his excitement; as if he were a magician on stage presenting himself to an audience.

You raised a brow.

“Okay. I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

A heavy pound on the door had you snapping your head in its direction as the security guard on the other side called for you.

‘Had it been an hour already?’

Before you could answer, much less stand, the door flung open and the same security guard as before barged in.

“Okay, Nigma! It’s time to go,” the guard began pulling him up by his upper arm. Edward struggled as he attempted to throw another glance over at you.

“Doctor! Feed me, and I thrive, give me water, and I die. What am I?” Edward called from over his shoulder as he was led down the hall. “Answer my riddle by our next meeting, doctor, and I’ll answer a question for you!”

He was completely out of sight by the time you got to the door but you already knew the answer to his riddler.

“Fire,” you said to the emptiness of the hall.

Things continued like this in a much similar fashion for, much to everyone’s surprise, the next month. You had grown to, dare you say it, even come to love your sessions with Edward. Your peers were impressed but it was clear by the way they looked at you that they suspected that Edward was up to something- that he was only playing nice to distract you from his bigger plot. You supposed you also had doubts in Edward as well- you liked him, sure, and very much believed he was capable of reform if his heart so desired; but that was the issue, Edward well and truly did not desire to live an honest life.

It was difficult some days to even talk to him. His mood swings came so rapidly and unpredictably it was near impossible to get him to see reason in his actions. On one such day that this occurred you yourself weren’t in the best of moods and your usual morning session with Edward did not lift your spirits as you had hoped it would.

Your husband had reached out to you. Well, ex husband technically, but that wasn’t the point. A few days before you started working at Arkham you had reached out to your family.

They were difficult people and you found that they often gave you heart ache, but they were family and you loved them all the same and had wanted to try to rekindle some warmth back into the relationship that you had with them. Naturally, they were worried for you when they caught wind of you serving divorce papers to Jonthan (your ex husband) and that you had moved to the most dangerous city in America- but were greatly relieved in hearing from you and encouraged you to come and visit and to do so often. Jonathan seemed to have taken your separation well and respected your wishes in wanting space, but that did little to ease the pain you felt in hearing his voice over the phone.

He’d called you just moments after your first session of the day. Since starting your work with Edward, the Warden has assigned you a few more patients to your schedule.

Jonathan was doing as well as a man whose wife just left could’ve been. He sounded genuinely glad to hear from you, and although he didn’t outright say it- you could tell he was dropping hints of you coming back to him.

Your marriage to your (ex)husband wasn’t all bad- in fact, it wasn’t bad at all. It just…. Died. He was a busy man and dedicated most of his time to his work, which you knew was important, but over the few years that you had been together- your nights of loneliness grew more common than not.

You were glad to hear from him, but once the call had ended you couldn’t help the onslaught of tears from spilling.

Edward was in a bad mood (when was he not?) and although you considered yourself an expert in not taking his words to heart, today was not your day and his sour attitude only made things worse.

He stormed into your office earlier than he was scheduled, catching you off guard and plopped himself down in your chair, ranting and raving about his newest gripe. All things you were quite accustomed to at this point in your relationship with this patient.

You didn’t expect a “hello, how are you?” from Edward, you never did. But what came after set your already fragile mind over the edge.

Edward was annoyed, this was apparent, but for the first time since you’d started treating him- he was irritated with you, and showed no ounce of mercy in his insults he sputtered out bitterly towards you. Apparently, you had accidentally written up the wrong prescription of medicine for him (not that he ever actually took his medication–) and that greatly offended him. He was, after all, The Great Edward Nigma!

How could you possibly get him mixed up with another patient? All were beneath him and his complete originality.

You must not have been as smart as Edward had initially thought you to be- or perhaps- you must’ve thought that Edward was stupid enough not to notice. Did you not care about him? He should be your absolute priority!

All these things Edward said to you, his angry blue gaze hardening when he saw the paliness of your face… until you broke, and that calm friendliness he was so used to tethered away into something small and sad. He was speechless and immediately closed his yapping mouth when the tears began rolling down your cheeks. You ran out of the office before he could stop you; a moment later a guard came in and escorted him back to his cell.

Edward was a fool. A terrible, terrible fool. He thought so to himself as he laid wide awake on the stiff mattress of his cell.

The way you ran out on him made him feel– dare he say it– bad and he didn’t want you to be done with him. With other doctors, Edward had not cared an ounce for them– they were stupid, weak-minded, and uninteresting.

You were not, and he feared that after today you’d schedule him to start seeing other doctors. But something kept nagging at the back of his mind, something he just couldn’t wrap his genius mind around– why were you so sensitive today? Of the past few months that he’d been in your care he’s insulted and belittled you on multiple occasions; granted, in pure humor, but still!

You should be used to his antics by now, right? Unless it was all a front and you secretly had not been enjoying his company as he had hoped.

Edward stood up from his bed and unscrewed the bolts that nailed the toilet to the wall of his cell. He’d discovered a faulty place in the cement wall his first day here and used the space behind the toilet to weasel his way all throughout Arkham for the past several weeks. Mostly, he’d go out at night to set up more riddles for when the Bat inevitably came to Arkham– but tonight he needed to go to your office.

He had questions and he felt that your office was the best place to look for them.

The tunnel behind Edward’s cell toilet led to a grate that ran throughout the flooring in his ward. From there he quietly crept beneath security until he reached another grate– one that led out into the Court Yard; and from there the charlatan was out in the open air of the night. He was not safe, however.

If there was one thing that The Riddler had to give credit to, it was that Arkham did not skip out on security. Luckily for Edward, he was a genius and had grown to know these walls quite well. Edward knew exactly where to walk to avoid surveillance– which routes the guards typically patrolled, and how to be silent and low to the ground.

It took the rogue an entire 15 minutes to make his way across the courtyard and right up to the main mansion of the asylum. This was where all of the psychiatrists had their offices held– this was where, for the past several weeks, he’d been escorted to for your daily sessions.

Edward could not simply walk up the steps, however, and had to repeat the same tedious process of crawling beneath the flooring as he had to escape his cell block. Eventually, he ran out of space to crawl and was forced to take a step ladder that led him to crawling through the AC ducts in the ceiling.

A few wrong turns and a stubbed toe later, Edward had made it to your office. But something was wrong, the light in your office was on and he could clearly hear you talking to someone. Shouldn’t you have been home by now? Why were you working so late? It was nearly 10!

Edward, as quietly as he could, slithered forward on his stomach and peered down from the ventilation opening. From his point of view, all that he could see was straight down at the back corner of your office. He could see the top of your bookshelf and partially your desk chair; due to this the rogue was forced to listen in on your conversation.

“It’s not your fault, Jonathan. It’s just… I settled down too quickly. You did nothing wrong, I just need some time alone.”

You sniffled, and then there was a brief pause before you continued. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you were on the phone with someone. A boyfriend, perhaps?

Edward had noticed the ring mark on your wedding finger; so was this ‘Jonathan’ fellow your ex husband? Why did the two of you split to begin with? And were you planning on getting back together with him?

Edward’s mind buzzed with dozens of questions.

The conversation ended soon after with you confirming Edwards theory with a “goodbye. I love you.”

Edward stayed put until he saw the light go out and heard the closing of your office door. He shuffled his way back down the shaft soon after. He no longer needed to dig around for information as to why you were upset– you had unknowingly given him answers.

Edward did not see you the next day, nor the day after that- but that was due to the fact that it was the weekend. So when Monday finally rolled around the intellect anxiously counted the hours until your session, and felt a great amount of relief flood him when a guard came and escorted him to your office.

“I know things weren’t the best during our last session and I wanted to apologize for running out on you. That was very unprofessional of me,” you started after a quick morning greeting.

Edward felt a boisterous amount of happiness. You were still his doctor and had not given up on him, and whatever happened over the weekend was clearly enough to set your head back on straight. Good.

The sooner you dealt with your drama the sooner you could give all of your undivided attention back to him, as it should be.

“I’m glad you're seeing reason again, Doctor,” Edward smiled. “I’ll forgive this small setback.”

Something strange flickered across your expression. Something ugly but not something that Edward was unfamiliar with. He knew what it was that you were feeling.

Disgust.

But why? Why were you repulsed by him? Was it something he said?

Nononono! This is NOT how this is supposed to go! Why aren’t you bedazzled by him?

Weren’t you two friends? Did you no longer like him?

The look of discomfort left your face; the soft smile you usually wore was back and you were talking again.

“Well. In any case… I’m glad you’re in a good mood today. Did you have a good weekend?”

That’s stupid, Edward thought. He’s in Arkham, how did you think his weekend went? But Edward did not say this, he’d offended you enough lately and knew his relationship with you was on thin ice.

But why did he care? That was the question he refused to answer. All he knew was that he liked the attention you gave him and he wanted more of it.

“I suppose I am,” Edward hummed. “I’m excited about leaving Arkham. Say, Doctor, do you like Italian? There’s a quaint little place on the corner of 1st Street in downtown Burnside that I enjoy… perhaps we should dine there together.”

You laughed—a nervous laugh, but still a laugh nonetheless.

“Eddie…” He liked it when you called him that. “You haven’t been offered parole yet- don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself now?”

Edward only smiled.

Deep down you knew he was leaving. He was The Riddler, after all. And time and time again he’s proven he can and will escape Arkham Asylum.

You knew from the moment you took on this patient that it was only a matter of time before he grew board or cocked up some new scheme for the Bat and needed to leave Arkham— you just never knew that you’d want him to stay as bad as you did; and not for the professional reasons that someone of your standing should’ve had. You liked him a lot.

It is for this reason that you felt your heart pounding and fluttering in your chest wildly as you stared through the darkness of your bedroom at Edward. You waited with bated breath for his next move, realizing awkwardly too late that he was pinned in his current position by a fierce grip that you held on his wrist. Hesitantly, you let go–

“Wait…!!” You called him as he moved away, but then stilled instantly at the sound of your voice. You were honestly not expecting this and instead had assumed he’d bolt out the door for you to never see him again the moment you let go. So the moment he didn’t, you had to recuperate your thoughts to form a logical explanation for him to understand.

“I want to be with you! Please stay.”

Were you begging him? Pitiful. Absolutely sad.

You wanted to choke out a cry, you felt tears welling in your eyes and then— then Edward was on top of you- he was cradling your face in his hands and melting his lips into yours. And you were kissing him, too.

His lips were warm and inviting and so wonderfully shaped– wide and thin, but a perfect contrast to yours. And then you were pressing yourself up to meet him better and he was struggling to unravel your body from the thick white hospital bed covers.

You were glad you had decided to volunteer to work overnight, and you paid little to no mind as to how or when Edward could’ve possibly found out this information– he was The Riddler, after all. You’re sure he had his ways.

“You’re a temptress. A devious fiend out for my own heart!”

He was muttering nonsense in your ear and you were positively on fire!

Before you knew it, his hands– calloused and hot– were sliding up underneath the shirt you wore to bed. You gasped, kicked the covers completely off, and moaned when his hands cupped your breasts.

This is perfect! This is positively perfect!!

You were attempting to unzip the jumpsuit he wore, but his hands and arms kept getting in the way. Finally annoyed with your antics, he sat back– completely removing his body away from you in the process (and you whined dramatically as he did so) before unzipping his suit and kicking off his boots. His boots dropped to the floor, making a soft thudding noise when they landed.

You wondered, very briefly to yourself, whether or not anyone passing by the door to the room you were staying in would hear– then quickly you remembered that the walls in this part of the facility were concrete and the door a thick wood. The place was designed to offer comfort to the other patients trying to sleep should one of them start screaming and yelling in the night.

Edward’s body was back on you not a moment after he shrugged his shoulders out of his orange jumpsuit. His kisses were wild and frantic– like he was a fish out of water and you were the great salty ocean.

He broke the kiss once more; this time to remove the white wife beater he wore under the jumpsuit and to slide out of the bottom pants portion of said jumpsuit. You took this opportunity to follow his lead and to also toss off your t-shirt, leaving the two of you to shiver in your underwear.

Though the room was incredibly dark and you could only barely make out Edward’s figure, you greatly admired his lean and toned muscles that adorned his biceps and tummy. Edward was the definition of tall and skinny, but his body proportions were, by no means, awkward. He was beautiful, and somehow every inch of his body— every curve, fold, wrinkle, and mole (to you) just made sense.

You moaned deeply when your greedy lips met him again and your hands landed squarely on his shoulders when he shimmed his way in between your legs.

Yes, this is right. This is perfect! This is exactly what I have been wanting!!

You thought these filthy little things to yourself; moaning and writhing beneath Edward. Edward was pressing himself into you now, the fabric of his underwear grating against your crotch. He was as hard as a rock and… oh… a lot bigger than you expected!

It was stupid. It was entirely dumb and silly, and you felt like a child for it– but you blushed. Deeply, annoyingly, and secretly within the darkness of the room.

Here you were, a grown ass woman with a PHD and years of experience from being married– and you were blushing like a silly little school girl. How hilarious, thank goodness Edward could not see the details of your face.

Your breath caught in your throat and your mind abandoned its self-sabotaging thoughts for all but a moment when Edward pushed himself forward and into you. He must’ve pulled himself out of his garments and slipped past your own without you knowing because now he was inside of you. The ex-data analyst set a brutal pace in his movements, leaving you to go as limp as spaghetti noodles in his arms.

Edward moved fast and hard, delving in and out of you– all you could do was try and grasp for some sort of control by perching your hands on his upper arms; but even that was a struggle to do. He was muttering stuff under his breath that fanned out across the side of your face– absolute nonsense mixed in with moans and grunts. You felt a great sense of pride in being here to provide him pleasure– being able to reduce a man as magnificent as Edward Nigma to mere putty in your hands.

He was beautiful, he was fantastic, and you could’ve fallen in love with him at that moment. Could’ve. You wouldn’t, however.

You couldn’t allow yourself to get that close to him, not only because he was your patient and doing what you were doing now was breaching so many boundaries on so many levels of trust that you should’ve never given into to begin with– but because Edward Nigma was a dangerous man. He is a mastermind and probably the smartest man in this city, and on top of all of that, he was a criminal. A criminal who specializes in gathering information and then blackmailing other dangerous individuals into doing his dirty work.

It is because of that very reason that you did not fully give in to your desires. You felt the familiarity of the tightening in your gut– recognized what was about to happen by the frantic rhythm of Edward’s thrusts, but even so, did not allow yourself to become completely undone.

Edward shuttered above you and collapsed in clear exhaustion when he had finished. His weight on you brought a comfort that you had not known in quite some time, and to show appreciation for him you hummed and kissed his temple; running your fingers through his hair and along his back. The two of you stayed this way for what felt like hours.

Eventually, sometime in the night, he rolled off you and began gathering his clothes. You feigned sleep as he left and stayed frozen to your spot until the morning. Your only hope is that you would run into him again some day under better circumstances.

But until then, you would have to bury the memory of this sleepless night.

Chapter Text

Vicki Vale’s dolled-up face and cropped blonde hair board into your very soul from behind the glass of the TV screen. Completely immune and unaware of your (and practically everyone else watching) existence, she opened her mouth and flashed the cameraman her most flattering smile. Some often called her the “Lois Lane of Gotham City”, with her extensive and successful reporter career and die-hard obsession with exploring the corruption of public officials– but in truth, you’d always felt that the woman was obtuse at best.

Still, you, like every other Gothamite, continued to watch her as she delivered her statement to the camera.

“This is Vicki Vale reporting live from Arkham City; the controversial super-prison built right here in the heart of Gotham,” Vicki’s sparkling white teeth peeked out from between her berry-red lips. “In a few moments, Bruce Wayne will be live on stage to explain his sudden interest in Gotham politics…”

‘The infamous Playboy billionaire has balls,’ you absentmindedly thought to yourself, continuing to stand within the center of your apartment living space– arms crossed and focus zeroed in on the slightly outdated TV that was mounted to your wall.

18 months. 18 months and 34 days is exactly how long it has been since that fateful night at Arkham Asylum. The night that the Joker unleashed hell on earth upon the nonviolent inmates and staff members of the facility.

You could remember that night like it had happened yesterday. The days leading up to the attack had been normal, excluding some personal drama in your own life that might’ve distracted you from noticing any real signs of danger— everything had been normal. Of course, before the assault on Arkham, you hadn’t been in the employment of Arkham long.

Your thoughts came to a sudden and violent halt before you could go spiraling too far down memory lane as Bruce Wayne himself came on screen– passing Vicki by and making some sort of witty comment that you were too far gone to have noticed until it was too late. He was on the podium now, speaking to the crowd of reporters as they fought their way to get the best view of Gotham’s most eligible bachelor.

“Thank you! Thank you, Gotham,” Bruce cheesed the camera. By that point, you were just about fed up with the news and stepped away from your brooding position and made your way to the kitchen, where you had a pot of boiling water and a box of pasta noodles ready to be cooked.

The TV served as an ideal background noise to your raging mind as you served yourself dinner. A lot has changed for you in your life in the past several months after Arkham. After that night.

You remained in the same unit that you had initially rented out when you first got to Gotham– your original intentions were to temporarily stay in the place, but after that night and losing your job, the circumstances forced you to stay put.

You got by from the workers' compensation you received from your former employers, and you were half tempted to hire an attorney and drop an actual lawsuit on the facility– but with everything going on in Gotham right now, money was the furthest thing from your mind. Naturally, once news got out about Arkham being overrun by its inmates, your persistent and overbearing family had once more reached out and demanded that you return to Metropolis and the life that you had so long desired to get away from, as, like the fool you were, you returned. Einstein once said that “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

So when you had returned to your home and your ex-husband, it should’ve been obvious to you from the start that things hadn’t changed– that the two months you had been apart wouldn’t have made a difference. You were a fool for thinking otherwise. Luckily for you, you had kept your apartment in Gotham and had stayed true to your own word that you would not put up with the neglect anymore.

So you left your life in Metropolis once more, this time for good. This time, severing all connections you had previously made the mistake of keeping when you left for the first time.

Arkham City was freezing, no thanks to a certain cryogenesis. Gotham was always cold this time of year– with its constant downpour of rain and icy cold winds that bounced off the walls of the skyscraping buildings– but Arkham City was doubled in the amount of suffering by Mr. Freeze. No doubt his reasoning for doing so was directly related to something to do with his frozen wife, like all his crimes seemed to be motivated by.

Edward, in all his doom and gloom, watched from the comfort of his desk as his minions carried out his bidding across the screen in front of him. He, always the smartest man in the room, got out of Arkham just hours before the Joker released his attack on the Asylum. His freedom didn’t last long, however, as he was quickly apprehended by Strange’s men and shipped off to what the media has now dubbed Arkham City.

Naturally, Edward was quick to adjust to his environment and within the first week of being dropped off in the dilapidated environment, he was up and running with a full operation and a scheme for The Bat; because sooner or later, he was bound to arrive in the City and stir up trouble.

The letter haunted you the moment you received it. You thought little of it, naturally, when you had received it among the piles of junk mail and the slow increase of bills piling up (your workers comp only could get you so far before you would eventually need an actual job again). The letter was that of employment– a job request to be more specific, and it came to you from none other than Dr. Hugo Strange himself.

You dropped the letter before you could even finish reading it. You waited an entire day before picking it back up and rereading what the doctor had offered you. Dr. Strange promised to pay you double the amount that you had made at Arkham for your services as a psychiatrist, and he did so with the sole intention of you providing care to one particular inmate.

Edward Nigma.

Edward had never met Hugo Strange in person, but thanks to his spies and resources, he knew enough about the man to know he was just as pathetic and shallow as any other villain wanna-be. The Riddler had first spoken to Dr. Strange a month or two after his relocation into the City. Unbeknownst to the Psychologist, Edward had paid one of the inmates off to install a small camera and speaker device within his office while they visited under the guise of having a session with the doctor.

Since then, The Riddler would on occasion pop in to “pay a visit” to the doctor. Edward took great enjoyment in mocking the professor during these brief encounters, and relished in the fact that, though he was a resident within the city, he was here on his own volition and that Strange and his Tiger Guards had no sway over him.

Tonight was one such night that the infamous criminal decided to pay a small visit to said doctor.

Old coffee cup in hand, steaming with the cheap ground coffee he had managed to acquire within the city, Edward stood tall and proud in front of his monitors. His lair was dark to conserve power at this time; thus, the only light that was currently present was from the 7 monitors mounted all around him, each displaying different scenes within the city from his hundred different camera feeds. His main monitor, which was the largest of the screens and centered right in front of his workstation, flickered to that of Dr. Hugo Strange, sitting at his desk within his office.

The camera that Edward had set up gave him an upper narrow view of this office as it was mounted on the ceiling in the far right corner. In Edward’s perspective, it appeared to him that the doctor was reading over a file– most likely from one of his brain-dead patients he’d experimented on. Due to the grainy image that the feed presented Edward on his computer monitor, he could not make out any details of said file, but knew as much that it was currently none of his concern.

Edward, taking a big gulp of his slowly cooling coffee, straightened up his posture before checking to make sure his mic was properly connected and switching on the audio.

“Knock, knock, Professor. Guess who?” Edward smugly grinned through his words.

Dr. Strange, not in the least bit shocked, heaved a heavy sigh. Edward watched in amusement as the image of the large bald man leaned back in his leather chair and steepled his fingers in front of him.

“I grow tired of these insipid games, Mr. Nigma. If you wish to speak to me, my guards will escort you safely to my tower.”

Edward nearly laughed.

“Please, Hugo. If you're going to set a trap, at least pretend to try harder than that.”

Dr. Strange’s response was immediate.

“No traps, Edward. I simply wish to grant you safe passage through Arkham City. I think the time has come for us to meet as equals… and besides, I believe I will make it worth your while.”

Edward raised a brow at this, tilting his head and rubbing his gloved knuckles across the stubble on his chin. ‘What are you planning this time, Strange?’ He thought to himself before speaking.

“You, Strange? My equal? I am the man whose cunning will soon have Batman lying at his feet, bloodied and broken.”

The image was as clear as day to Edward.

“Really?” Strange didn’t sound the least bit convinced, but Edward ignored him as he continued babbling on, lost in his ingenious fantasy.

“Then I will pull off his mask and look into his dull, dying eyes. In that last instance, he will know that I have finally beaten him, and I will know who he is.”

“My apologies, Edward,” Strange’s voice finally broke through Edward’s mind. “I see now we are nowhere near equals.”

Edward snapped his previously roaming gaze back to the monitors in front of him. Back to the fuzzy image of Dr. Strange.

“Finally.”

“You see, like me, you are obsessed with Batman, but unlike me, you don’t know who he is. Do you?”

“What?” Edward’s gaze hardened upon this revelation.

“And thus I must conclude this meeting, Edward. Though it was interesting, I see now that I have nothing to gain from you.”

Edward’s mind was buzzing with questions. Was Strange bluff? Did he know who Batman was? If so, how? And why him and not me, The Smartest Man in Gotham!’

So enraptured in his racing mind, Edward only took notice of the 2nd person entering Strange’s office when Strange spoke up. Dr. Strange called her by her name- a name that Edward hadn’t thought about since that night, and soon that name was followed by a voice– a voice he didn’t think he’d hear again.

“You call, Doctor?” You asked, stepping into Strange’s office. You could’ve sworn that you had heard him talking to someone before entering, but looking around the office, it was clear that he was alone.

Hugo Strange straightened up at his desk. A taunt smile pulled his thin lips across his face.

Hugo Strange was an older man. How old is it? You weren’t quite sure, but if you had to guess, judging by his extremely receding hair line, and physical health, he surely had to have been hitting his 50s, and hitting them pretty hard.

“Down in Park Row, there is a Church in which the City Police, along with several other first responders, are holed up. Go there and be of assistance to them…”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Was he asking you to spy?

“Sir. I don’t understand– I thought I was here to give some insight on Edward Nig–”

Strange cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“Just do it! I will have my Tiger guards escort you.”

Edward was stumped. His mouth agape and his eyes still glued wide. He couldn’t believe it– he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed on the screen in front of him

‘You were here! At Arkham City! And working for… Strange?’

Edward sat for a long while, even after he’d long since disconnected the channel to Dr. Strange’s office. He asked himself repeatedly why you would be here, and why you would want to be working for Dr. Strange of all people. But more importantly, Edward wanted to know what exactly was Strange’s play in all this.

Surely Strange was aware that you were a previous employee at Arkham– maybe that may have even been the reason for your hire, but he called you into his office specifically to show Edward that you were there and under his wing. But was he aware of the relationship that you had with Edward? Surely he must’ve, why else would he go out of his way to hire you out of all of the other therapists that he had had over the years.

Edward furrowed his brows in thought. He remembered the last time that he had seen you, that night at Arkham before the breakout. The way you had held him, looked at him in that dark cramped room and kissed him–

–Edward rubbed his temples. He really shouldn’t be thinking about that night, especially right now with all that’s going on in Arkham City; but he just couldn’t help it. He needed answers and he needed them right now!

Strange to begin with was already and incredibly shady character, and Edward would’ve been content with letting him be so long as he didn’t interfere with his plots for Batman– but now’s he’s crossed the line, he’s brought you into this which means he must want Edward for something enough to manipulate him using you. But where exactly did that leave you in all this? Had he forced you to come to Arkham City?

Edward figured that after the events of Arkham Asylum you’d want nothing to do with Gotham after that and he’d never hear from you again. But he was wrong, as much as Edward typically despised being so, because you hadn’t left. For one reason or another, you had chosen to stay and had jumped from the pan directly into the fire.

Edward rubbed his eyes. He was tired and didn’t have the brain capacity to focus on this right now.

Grabbing the rolling desk chair, Edward plopped down on its cushiony surface and changed the channel feed back to the general channels he normally would have it on.

‘Well, it appears the Bat had finally made it to the City.’ Edward thought to himself as his tired eyes watched the Dark Knight scurry across the screen. ‘Maybe a short nap will do me some good…’