Chapter Text
It was a glorious day in Gotham, the kind that made all the long months of drear and gloom feel worth something. Even Arkham Asylum was brimming with sunshine, its blighted, electrically-fenced grounds playing host to the residents on a break between group therapy and lunch.
Killer Croc was basking in the sunlight, the Mad Hatter was fashioning himself a topper made of woven grass, and Poison Ivy was gazing longingly at the lawn from behind her portable biohazard chamber.Two-Face, however, was sticking to the shadows.
On sunny days Harvey got wistful for the courtyard of the law school library, for sitting with a cup full of lemonade and a table full of books and a heart full of hope. But ever since the accident, the scarred side of his face sunburned in a matter of minutes, and his affected eye could never quite close enough to block out the light. It irritated Harv, which worsened the already shaky relations between the two of them.
As with almost everything in life, Two found it easier to just avoid the issue. So into the shadows he slunk.
“Did you know crocodilians have double atria and double ventricles in their hearts, and they can shunt blood between different regions of their circulatory systems?” Two overheard a nasal voice asking.
Like most of what Edward said, the question felt less like an inquiry and more like an invitation to be impressed.
Killer Croc did not seem inclined to RSVP, if his growl and bared teeth were any indication.
Harvey sighed inwardly, and Harv rolled their eyes outwardly. That was the Riddler for you. Two had never met anyone so prone to flinging himself into situations he should really be smart enough to avoid. It was almost impressive. Edward Nygma was like a spelunker who crawled into terrible ideas instead of caves, and never remembered to take enough batteries for his metaphorical headlamp.
“...so it was the crocodile-headed deity that the ancient Egyptians believed actually ate the hearts of the unvirtuous dead, isn’t that something?” Riddler was babbling on.
Croc was slowly advancing, and the guards looked disinclined to intervene.
We are not getting involved in this , Harvey instructed.
I didn’t say nothing, Harv protested.
You thought it.
Well I was just thinking it’s a little unfair Nygma gets beat up again. Especially since you could talk Croc down.
If Nygma wants to impale himself on his own inability to shut his mouth we are under no obligation to do anything but let him.
Ain’t you supposed to be the nice one?
Well I’m certainly the sensible one–hey, stop reaching for the coin!
Two’s scarred fingers were already in his pocket. It wasn’t the real coin, of course–the staff at Arkham were always as eager to relieve him of that as of his guns and ammunition whenever he was readmitted–but he'd made a reasonable facsimile from one of the commissary tokens.
“Hey, I’m not being insulting, why are you rounding on me like that?” Riddler yelped from across the lawn.
Two-Face drew the coin out and gave it a flick.
If you win this toss, I hope Waylon breaks the arm on your side , Harvey fumed.
The coin landed scratched-face-up.
“Hey, Waylon!” Two-Face yelled.
Croc was holding Riddler a few inches off the grass with one clawed hand, but he turned around at Harvey’s voice.
“Let Ed go, will ya?” Harvey said.
Riddler, ever quick on the uptake, was nodding furiously to the best of his ability in Croc’s scaly grip.
“He was mocking me,” Croc spat.
“ We all know he’s got a compulsion and can’t shut up ,” Harv supplied.
Riddler stopped nodding.
Croc’s vertically slitted eyes flicked between Two-Face, who was doing his best to look imposing while standing several inches below Waylon’s chin, and Riddler, who was doing his best to look angry while hyperventilating.
“Why are you defending the twerp?” Waylon asked, suspicious.
Two-Face shrugged more casually than either Harv or Harvey felt.
“Can’t teach an old lawyer new tricks, I guess,” Harvey said. “C’mon, let him go and I’ll give you a couple swigs of my last Arkham eggnog.”
He’d been saving his final portion for the anniversary of his accident, which was a trying enough day when he was free. But he hadn’t told Croc how much he had, and besides, it was vile stuff. Joker had made it from a bunch of stolen medical supplies, and it tasted only a tiny bit less poisonous than his usual concoctions.
Waylon frowned, but he dropped Edward onto the grass.
“Deal, Dent.”
Told you it would work.
Gloating looks terrible on you.
As opposed to what , pretty boy?
"Need a hand?" Harvey asked the indignant lump of limbs on the ground once Croc had gone.
"I'm fine," the lump said peevishly.
Two-Face looked relieved, as if he hadn't been prepared to follow through on his own offer.
"I suppose I ought to thank you." Riddler began to uncrumple. The excitement that had been in his face when he was chattering about crocodile facts had left him, and the shadows around his eyes looked heavier, hollower.
"Believe it or not, it was the other guy's idea," Harvey said.
Riddler's eyes zigzagged from Harvey's honey-brown lashes to Harv's reddened eyeball and back.
"Thank you too," he said carefully. Or perhaps he said "Thank you two." Two-Face couldn't tell, but Riddler was probably delighted with himself for the wordplay.
They didn’t see each other again until dinner (or as the typically-disappointed patients called it, “Meal 3”) the next Tuesday.
“OK Dent, I think I’ve got it worked out, but I’ll need to familiarize you with the details,” Riddler said, placing his tray of gelatinous potatoes and grayish meat down opposite Two-Face’s.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Harvey asked through a gluey mouthful of Meal 3.
“The plan,” Riddler said, as though he was picking up an ongoing conversation rather than plunking himself into a situation where he was neither wanted nor expected, “for getting out of this dreadful conglomeration of quackery.”
When Two-Face didn’t react, Riddler leaned forward and hissed “For escaping Arkham, obviously!” “Don’t choke on your chessboard, genius, I understood you the first time.”
“Well,” Riddler said, casting a glance at the guards around the perimeter of the room, “Are you with me?” He had the gleam in his eye that only appeared when he answered a trivia question correctly or rigged something intricate and thematic to blow. It was dazzling the way the bat signal against the new moon was dazzling. The dangerous allure of a warning best heeded.
Two swallowed a ball of gristle.
“So?” Riddler asked. His fingers were tapping at the table. Hopefully it was impatience and not Morse code. Two-Face bought himself some time to respond by taking a long drink of his flat soda.
“Why me?” he asked at last. “You usually make escape plans with the Penguin and the Cat. I know you, Eddie”--Riddler balked at this–”you like people who aren’t gonna blow your head off without a reason. Why would you wanna work with a volatile maniac when you got an asylum full of calculating maniacs instead?”
Riddler huffed, as if the question was beyond obvious.
“You’re unpredictable with a known probability, Dent. And as you may or may not recall, Oswald’s diagnosis got adjusted when he agreed to testify against Roman Sionis, and our feline friend’ been free ever since she snitched on Garfield’s plan to level the south dockyards.”
“And what makes you think I won’t give you up if I get half the chance Ozzie and Lina did?”
Riddler smirked. Two-Face hated that smirk. It was uniquely irritating, more frustrating than that vacant dopey look Bruce Wayne had developed and worse in its way than Scarecrow’s leer or Mr. Freeze’s iciest stare. Harvey, who was usually averse to such crudeness, wanted to punch the smirk of Riddler’s face. And Harv wanted to–
“I’m under no illusions, my explosive esquire. I’m not wandering in Wonderland, nor am I drowning in my own delusions. In fact–”
“ We get it, alliterations make you feel like a smarty-pants, ” Harv interrupted.
Riddler made a disgruntled motion that Harvey recognized as the adjustment of a phantom bowler hat. It would have been obnoxious if it was less sincere, but it was unfortunately vaguely charming.
“Fine, you disbarred dichotomy,” Riddler sniffed. “I don’t trust you, but let’s do the math. You’ve got a 50% chance of betraying me, and I think any of the rest of our set in here have about a 95% chance of the same. I’d be an utter fool not to take my shot with you, especially since you stuck your neck out for me the other day with Jones.”
Two-Face was thoughtful. “Think that’s the first time anyone’s trusted me more because of the coin rather than less.”
“Well, I also need someone who can knock out a guard in under four seconds. And can reach a seventh-floor ceiling tile. I know I’m taller, but I’ve been unable to lift my arms straight above my head since Batman broke my clavicle.”
Harvey felt a pang of disappointment at the enumeration of these criteria, but it was Harv’s laugh that won out.
“OK Ed, you got yourself a deal with us. Let’s hear this plan of yours.”
“Excellent,” Riddler said, picking up a fork with a conspiratorial air. “Now, pay close attention to the movement of these cubed carrots…”