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The city was quiet as Bruce staggered to his vehicle, the only sounds his ragged, heavy exhales, and The Riddler’s own breath, calm and slow in a way Bruce had never heard while he was conscious. Some small part of him, a cruel part he didn’t much like, piped up with the fact he’d be much more manageable if he was always like this, wrists cuffed and curled in the Bat’s arms, bloody, bruised, and for once, silent.
An even smaller part of him thought it might be nice to have him in his arms without all of that, something comfortable and safe. Bruce didn’t much like that part of him either, and spent most of his life happily pretending it didn’t exist.
Edward shifted in his arms, head lolling slightly as an expression of discomfort passed over his face. It wasn’t much, but it snapped Bruce out of his thoughts, gently moving him to a more comfortable position. The movement drew a small pained noise from the rogue’s lips, and a small, tired sigh from his own. Not much longer till dawn... the ‘game’, as Edward liked to call it, had been hard won tonight, cracked ribs and torn flesh all the reward the dark knight would gain for his labors.
Despite all that had gone on that night, he felt oddly calm, as if he had been drained of his anger and fear, leaving behind nothing but a bone deep exhaustion that he could no longer imagine being without. Just one more step, one more…
He opened the door of the Batmobile and deposited Edward inside before getting in himself, closing his eyes for just a second as he felt the car’s door lock behind him and the computer start to scan over him, cataloging his injuries. He looked over at Edward, hesitating before removing the man’s purple tinted glasses, one lens shattered, and tucking them into the pocket of the man’s suit.
It was strange to see such an obnoxiously confident man look so small, harmless even, although that thought was laughable, especially considering the destruction he had attempted to unleash tonight… Without thinking, he reached for him again, pausing as his thumb moved to wipe the blood from the corner of Edward’s mouth.
Why was he doing this? Being so gentle with a man who had quite literally devoted his life to making Bruce miserable? A man who did nothing but mock him, despite the fact Batman had defeated him every time they clashed, why did he have any reason to-
As if on cue The Riddler’s eyelids fluttered slightly and he flinched away from the glove still brushing his face, mumbling something incoherent about cheating. Bruce pulled his hand back as if the man’s skin had become burning metal and started the car, heading for Arkham, and then for home.
The what-ifs and the whys could wait.