Work Text:
Rabbit Hole
“Ed, are you coming to bed?” Jim murmured, tiredly rubbing at his eye with a fist in an attempt at getting rid of the sleepiness for as long as it took to get his partner to bed; he couldn't remember the last time Edward had slept a full night in bed, without getting up at the weirdest hours after tossing and turning restlessly - if he had got into bed at all, in the first place “Ed?” Jim called out the other's name again when it seemed that Edward hadn't heard him “Ed, it's almost 1 am: Oswald will be home soon from the club” unless he had gotten in some kind of trouble and Jim would most likely find out about it in the morning, upon walking into the precinct and finding his other partner raging behind bars - the thought was enough to make him nauseous , the phantom of an onset migraine already throbbing at the base of his skull.
“Hmm?”
Jim huffed “Bed. You know that thing composed of a mattress on springs, swathed in soft sheets and topped with pillows to rest your head upon and get some shut-eye?”
Edward didn't raise his gaze from the mess strewn all over the kitchen table, one hand constantly scratching notes while the other caressed the papers - as if trying to choose an idea to pluck out of the swirling chaos in his mind, degenerating like a mad kaleidoscope of butterflies “There's no need for such heavy sarcasm: I do know what a bed is”
“The dark circles under your eyes say that you clearly don't”
Did he really look so tired? Edward would have to check later, when he stopped hyper focusing and came up to the surface for a breather; in that moment, he didn't have the time to do anything else but scheme and scheme and scheme scheme scheme schemeschemescheme - there were plans waiting to be hatched by his mind.
Worlds that begged to be unlocked.
Do you know what will get locked if Jimbo reads even a line of your notes?
Edward scowled and pressed the pen harder into the paper, ink starting to blot and smear into the deep and nervous grooves of his handwriting; he preferred using pencils - writing just felt smoother somehow and the volatile nature of graphite was a better match to works in progress .
The bedroom door, that's what it's going to happen. I can't believe that someone who's oh so smart hasn't picked up the signs: Jimbo is still talking at you and Oswald will be at home soon, annoyed by the mess he already repeatedly told you to keep to your hideouts.
So what?
They didn't understand.
They didn't want to.
Not even Oswald who, hypocritical as always, defiantly and blatantly commanded his criminal empire but bemoaned his showy crimes.
Jim waited expectantly for a reaction out of the other man but the more minutes passed, the deeper Edward seemed to be falling down an imaginary rabbit hole of his own creation.
An Alice lost in a lucid dream - impossible to reach.
Impossible to save .
He sighed and after leaving a full glass of water on the least crowded spot of the table, careful of not spilling even a drop on Edward's precious papers, Jim went to their shared bedroom: it was useless trying to get through his partner - the fog that surrounded the other's consciousness was too thick to pierce with mere words.
He curled on his side, feeling cold in the too big bed; the first thing Oswald had done when they had gotten all together, it had been buying new beds for Jim's apartment and the least hazardous hideout Edward had claimed. At the beginning, to Jim it had seemed just another useless waste of money - a careless display of Oswald's wealth that had made him feel dirty , somehow - but then it had become painfully clear that, despite the sinfully soft mattresses that cradled the body in a downy embrace, Oswald still woke up in pain, snappy and irritated.
Age wasn't making things any easier.
Oswald's lifestyle? Even less so.
Jim turned around and hugged a random pillow, burying his face into it to conceal the frustrated tears gathering at the corners of his eyes even if there was nobody to hide them from.
He was alone.
Restless.
Agitated.
The pillow smelled like Edward's shampoo and light sweat - Jim should have probably remade the bed but there was something about their scents that triggered a soothing response in his mind, a visceral reassurance that there truly was something he could cling to.
Something to keep fighting for.
No matter how unlikely.
No matter how absurd .
“This has to stop, Edward!”
Why was Oswald shouting?
When had he even gotten home for that matter?
Jim tried to blink his eyes open, his lashes pasty and glued together by tears he barely remembered shedding, and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table - its neon green numbers a beacon in the darkness.
3: 21 am.
“What am I supposed to do, Oswald?!”
“Accept that you're aging!”
“Why should I do that when there's remedies?”
“Those remedies are tearing us a p a r t!”
Crash .
Jim scrambled out of bed - almost faceplanting against the cold floor - and stumbled into the kitchen.
“Careful, there is glass on the floor” Oswald's voice sounded tired when he wasn't shouting, scratchy in the way it was only when he tried to chainsmoke his way through and past a problem at work.
“Whatcha fightin’ ‘bout?”
“This is not the time…”
“We have already woken him up, now definitely is the time” Oswald snapped at Edward, leaning heavily on his cane.
“‘m here” he hated being talked about as if he was a child or unable to understand them: Jim might not have been at his brightest when just awake - especially after such a wakeup call - but he wasn't compelled lost “What's happening?”
“Do you know what these are?” Oswald gave Jim a mints box but, upon opening it, it was quite clear that there wasn't anything as innocent as sweets inside it: the hard gelatin shell of the pills was transparent, shamelessly revealing the white granules it contained.
“They..” Jim squinted down at them and picked one up to roll it between his fingers as if the whorls and calluses of his digits could read them better than his eyes could “They're not prescription” at least, nothing they were aware about: Edward's meds were split in all of their cabinets and Jim had become familiar with the various shapes and colours they came in.
“It's Adderall” and the black market variety too, fresh out of God only knew what kind of illegal makeshift laboratory in the Narrows, but Oswald didn't add that, not wanting to make the other man worry too much.
Jim frowned as he rooted through his mind in search of the tendrils of knowledge that he knew to be tied to that word in his subconscious “You don't have ADHD, Ed. Why have you been taking these?”
Edward shifted and looked down at his feet, pursing his lips together into a tight line.
Did you really think they would never notice? And you say I'm the dumb one.
“Side effects at recreational doses include psychosis, insomnia, loss of appetite, anxiety and obsessive behaviours”
Five out of five! Though, should psychosis really count? You have hallucinations on a normal basis when you're not taking your medicines.
“What?” Uncaring of the glass shards between them, Jim made his way to the other man and gently took Edward's chin in his fingers to force him to at least look him in the eyes “Edward, you take meds to keep some of that stuff under control” he didn't even want to imagine what the pharmacologic interactions might have been doing to the other man “Why?”
“My brain…”
Three heartbeats of silence.
“I'm going to need a little more than that, Ed”
The tenderness in Jim's voice only made Edward feel… helpless “It's slowing down, I can feel it”
“It's fucking normal, Ed!”
“Oswald, please, go to the bedroom and change” the other man was tired, angry and scared - it wasn't a good combination on Oswald, it led him to say things he didn't mean and to spill blood he could have easily avoided staining his hands with “Please, love”
How long has it been since either of them called you love ?
“Fine”
“Edward, focus on me” Jim resisted the urge of snapping his fingers in front of the other's face, knowing just how many bad memories were packed behind such a simple gesture; Edward already was teetering on the edge, high strung by the Adderall and the confrontation he had just had with Oswald “I know that the idea of slowing down scares you”
“It's all I have”
Goody, at least you know they're not with you because of your shiny personality.
“It's not” Jim said firmly “You're so much more than that but I do know how important it is to you”
“Why, then?”
“These are bad for you, Edward”
“They help me…”
Jim shook his head “They don't” he caressed the profile of Edward's jaw with his thumb, shivering at the feeling of stubble scratching him “Edward, love, they don't help you and I know you know that”
“I… I just…”
“You're tired” Jim leaned up and bestowed a brief kiss on the other's lips “Why don't we talk about this tomorrow morning, when you're not crashing and Oswald has gotten some rest?”
“O-okay” Edward closed his eyes and sagged a little against Jim, defeated and tired - the fight sapped away from his body only to leave behind exhaustion and the crawling of his skin, untouched for too long by his lovers “Okay. Bed?”
“Just let me get rid of the glass and I'll join you” Jim didn't want to slice his foot open first thing the following morning, when he would basically sleepwalk into the kitchen in search of coffee.
“Promise?”
“I do”
Edward nodded and kissed the other man again, trying to steel himself to walk into the bedroom where Oswald undoubtedly awaited with more shouting bubbling away under his skin - he didn't have the energies for that. He dragged himself to bed, relieved that there was darkness awaiting for him rather than the golden light of the bedside lamps; Oswald was an unmoving lump, cocooned in a blanket like a moth that was on the verge of flying away from its prison of silk - Edward slid in his place as quietly as possible, trying not to wake him.
A useless precaution because he was awake and, after a moment in which he had to repress the violent anger that almost made his bones rattle, Oswald turned around and buried his head in his lover's chest, letting out a shaky breath when the other man started caressing his hair.
There were no words to exchange, not even when Jim joined them a few minutes later and he uncomfortably wedged himself tightly against Edward's back, filling in all the space between them that he couldn't stand to see empty.
Things would be alright.
He would personally make sure of that.