Chapter Text
Ed ran his knuckles across the door a few times to announce his presence. “Jon?” He added, forcing his voice at an even volume even if it would be best to shout through a shut door.
It had been about a week since he brought Jon to his current hideout after breaking the poor man out of Arkham. He became the laughingstock of the asylum, and because of that he had regressed so deeply. Jon had amazing self control, but both bullying and being seen as a joke always struck chords with him, and he had gone through that in an asylum with no way to bite back without more laughter striking him down.
He had seen Jonathan at his lowest before, but this was him in a pit below rock bottom. This was the core.
When Ed got no response from the other, he sighed. Shuffling the plate of food he held in one hand to a more comfortable and stable position, he used his free hand to grip the doorknob and slowly push it open.
Jonathan had barely moved since the last time he saw him. The infamous “ Scarecrow ” was completely in costume, sitting in the makeshift bedroom. He wasn’t even in the bed, but in the corner wedged on top of the bookshelf. From the way he was sitting on it, his knees nearly scraped the ceiling with how close his legs were pulled to himself and his arms draped over his legs and loosely in front of him, resting atop his knees. A sickle was tucked in one of his hands and his head was resting in between his arms and against his legs.
He was speaking, too. It was hard to pick up, but very faintly Ed could hear Jonathan whispering “- do not know, say the great bells of Bow. ”
Ah .
So Jonathan was still struggling.
A frown pulled at Ed’s lips in sympathy. He took a few steps into the room, shifting his free hand to carry the plate.
“ Here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off your head. “ More whispers from the Scarecrow caught in Edward’s ears, but he ignored them as he set the plate of food onto a nearby counter.
“I’m dropping off food again. Are you ready to talk yet?” Ed knew the question was pointless, that he wouldn’t get an answer. Unsurprisingly, the closest he got to an answer was mutterings about oranges and lemons and the bells of St. Clement.
Ed wanted to sigh again, but instead he just turned. “Alright, you need more time,” he spoke to practically nobody as he made his way back out the door. As he stepped through, he hesitated before closing the door. “…just, please talk to me when you’re ready.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the Riddler alone. His shoulders dropped as his hand loosely slid off the knob.
He really hoped that Jonathan would open up soon.