Chapter Text
- Dr. Crane, are you listening to me at all?- a sudden raised voice rudely pulled me out of my thoughts. One of my regular patients was sitting in front of me with a dissatisfied expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed. He looked angry, but in fact he was upset that I had strayed from the flow of his verbal utterances.
- Oh, I'm sorry, Edward. I was a little... thinking.- in order to avoid close eye contact, I nervously flipped through the crumpled pages of a notebook, twirled a pencil in my hand and adjusted my glasses. Damn, I really didn't notice that I stopped listening to him a long time ago and was deeply thinking about something of my own. All the sheets were covered with riddles, which Edward inserted into each of our dialogue. I solved some of them in detail at night after work and recorded the whole course of my thoughts and all my assumptions. After studying the patient "Riddler" for a long time and talking with him, I came to the conclusion that all his riddles and puzzles are a kind of protective and analyzing barrier, behind which a very tender or even childish nature is hidden. I also believe that in these riddles Edward hides the answers to my specific questions regarding his past, his family, his childhood and his youth. A number of these personal factors or events that built a smooth road to a criminal life for him were not recorded in the official file of Edward Nygma. Therefore, now my main task is to find out all this from the mouth of the Riddler himself, without relying on various kinds of rumors.
- Thinking? This is a very useful process. And about what, if not a secret? Did some of my words make you distracted or something else?- resentment was immediately replaced by interest, and a frown turned into a sly smile and eyes shining with excitement. When the topic touches on thinking, analysis, reflection, Edward immediately becomes very active and open to dialogue, because he also likes to dig into other people's thoughts, like the psychologists around him. One of his distinctive features. My other patients prefer to literally dig into other people's brains, which is why conversations with them do not cause me such interest and desire to help them, because this is clearly a senseless waste of time, but this cannot be officially recognized. But Edward… He still has a chance to stop and return to a normal and legitimate life. So far, his psyche is pretty stable. I always watched and recorded his every reaction to the topics of our conversations, to my attempts to guess his riddles, even to how his day went, to the weather and the Arkham menu. This is an important part of my work, thanks to which I understand at what points it is better to stop so that my patient does not refuse to talk to me. And it's really interesting to me, as a long and exciting game where you need to keep track of the balance and build tactics.
- I have been studying our sessions for a long time, Edward, and I have some suggestions.- I nurtured and polished this theory for a very long time and all this time I wanted to share it with someone. Of course, I could easily write official documents and reports based on the received material for the dossier and the psychological portrait of Nygma, but first I would like to make sure of the reliability of my conclusions.
- Really? For the first time I see that someone really works here. Well, I'm very interested to see the result of your labors, Dr. Crane. Very… Maybe you were even able to solve... a riddle.- Edward lowered his voice, which a couple of seconds ago had been enthusiastic and imbued with curiosity, to a calm and slightly mesmerizing whisper. Without fear, he pulled up a chair to my desk, standing opposite, and leaned forward a little towards me, as if wanting me to say everything in his ear so that this important secret would not be heard by other living and even dead. Edward has not been shy about behaving like this in my office for a long time, because I myself allowed him to do this and during our sessions, handcuffs are removed from his hands. Many colleagues have reproached me because of this decision, but I want a really important patient to feel comfortable and open to talking to me, besides, Edward himself did nothing to make me change my mind. A little patience, concessions unseen by my other patients, and this quirky, loving to flash sharp claws at the most unexpected moments, the beast ceased to be so dangerous for me. And I'm not doing all this in order to drive him into a trap in the end and lose all trust.
- And if my answer turns out to be wrong, will it make you very angry, Edward?- it is better to clarify this first, before revealing all the cards of my mind. Edward is not that simple, so I can lose at any moment and be wrong, which in turn will greatly upset and disappoint him. And we will be very far away from each other...
- It all depends on what you say and how you say it, Dr. Crane. But personally, I will give you the right to make a mistake.- he smiled playfully for a moment, and then continued to look at me with a predatory gaze, like a hungry snake at a mouse. But Edward's last sentence made it clear that he was not going to bare his sharp and poisonous fangs.
- Talking to you for a long time, I thought about the fact that you have always been offended.- carefully starting to express my thoughts, I carefully watched Edward's reaction, but he did not show any emotion, which came as a surprise to me. Feeling the freedom I had given him, he got as close to me as possible and lay down on my desk with his whole chest. This made me very nervous, but I couldn't move. From the touch of his moderate breath on my cheeks, they began to slowly heat up and blush, and two green eyes, in which I saw my own reflection, looked straight into my soul and encouraged me to speak further. Without the ability to smooth out the corners of the meaning of statements or lie in case of a critical mistake.
- You're trying to hide this resentment, these old but sore wounds. And at the same time, you want to talk about it. I can see you screaming in the depths of yourself.- unable to resist and ponder the words that pop up in my head, I continue to speak as if under hypnosis, as if he squeezed them out of my throat.
- Hm-m-m. If I'm so offended by something, then why don't I want to talk about it?- Edward raised one eyebrow questioningly, but he wasn't angry at me or disappointed. What was said clearly interested him. Maybe Edward didn't know the answer to this question himself, or maybe that was how he encouraged me to talk further.
- You don't want to put it on public display, otherwise it will lose its value and many may not understand you. You need someone... special. Someone you can trust completely. A soul mate who will definitely be able to understand you. Because I see how you fear and distrust the whole world and protect yourself from everyone. Is that true, Edward?- my heartbeat, which seemed to be audible in the silence of the office, accelerated the pace and warmed up all the blood circulating throughout the body. Am I so worried and afraid of making a mistake, or is it something else?.. I have never treated any patient so delicately and carefully. It's only because Edward has a clear chance of psychological recovery, right?
- And?.. Then how exactly should I tell about it? And do you think, Dr. Crane, I have the person you mentioned?- instead of answering my question, Edward started torturing me with his own. At the end, he visibly squinted and sat back down on the chair, standing quite far away from me. The last question was clearly provocative, decisive, and absolutely everything depends on my answer, perhaps even our relationship… as a doctor and a patient. It reminded me of the moments when I tried to guess Edward's riddles and sometimes, watching my reflections, he spared me and helped me choose the right direction for the train of thought, but did not give specific clues or answers, which is strange, because the Riddler always left clues to his next actions at the crime scene. Hm, I managed to study all the records of past psychotherapists who failed to establish contact with Nygma, they all assumed that Batman was the central person for him and that Edward wanted the whole world to empathize with him. Everything is completely opposite to my theories, but, unlike my colleagues, I was able to achieve good results and overtake them all. Naturally, some of these colleagues suffered at the hands of Edward. As I believe, this is because they insisted on their conclusions, which greatly angered him and caused emotional instability with aggressive behavior. They were all chess pieces thrown off the board, and now it's my turn to make a move.
- Riddles. They are your protective barrier. It is in them that you hide your cry and desire to speak out. These are your encrypted messages to find someone smart who will not only solve these riddles, but also understand them correctly. - now I felt more confident and courageous, because I believe in what I came to during my communication with Edward. At that moment, he was about to say something prepared in advance with his head held high, but realizing my answer, Edward choked on his words and stared at me with huge eyes, dumbfounded, and his cheeks also turned red. His lips trembled, wanting to interrupt me, but I did it before Edward and took away all the advantage.
- To tell the truth, I can't name a specific person right now, but I... want to solve your riddles and sort them out, you know that yourself. Because you have a chance to restore your mental state, Edward, and I want to help you. I really believe that you will be able to embark on the path of correction and find something else for yourself. Also interesting for you, but, most importantly, not illegal.- having put a clear bold dot after the completion of my revelations, I took a deep breath, took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes tired from a long reading and a lot of notes a couple of times. Maybe I deliberately created a false excuse not to meet his eyes again?.. Edward fell silent, that dangerous predator disappeared in him and he thought about something with his head down, tightly crossing his arms over his chest, thereby making it clear that he wanted to be with his thoughts for a while. But he wasn't mad at me, it was already pleasing. Putting my glasses back in place, I got up from the table and poured water into a glass from a large transparent jug standing on the edge.
- Edward... if I made a mistake somewhere or hurt you in some way, tell me about it right away... please.- I whispered gently and cautiously, coming closer to him and offering him a glass of water. A few minutes of dead silence with a sharp blade slowly and painfully cut my heart, plunging into the very depths, because of which the heartbeat brought vile pain and numbness. We didn't move for a long time, like memorial statues in an empty cemetery.
Edward was the first to break our mourning silence, suddenly snatching the glass from me and, almost spilling the water, drinking everything in one fell swoop.
- You've surprised me a lot, Dr. Crane. Are you sure you're from Gotham?- shaking his head and casually putting the glass on the table, Edward instantly returned to his former state, and it was clearly a forced pretense to hide emotions. At that moment, a small antique desk clock rang softly, which was definitely older than me and has been in these walls, possibly since the construction of Arkham. This thing signalling the end of sessions was passed from psychologist to psychotherapist and vice versa. In the first days of my work, I felt like I was in a museum among expensive and rare things hidden in the shadows, where it's easy to get lost both physically and mentally. It's amazing that no one has ever tried to rob Arkham. Everyone wants to either totally destroy or capture and become the king of this place. I wonder if it's all connected with the stories and legends of this hospital?
- Edward, have you already chosen a new topic for conversation? Does this mean that I was right about everything I said?- boldly, but still politely, I turned into a fearless mongoose in order to deftly catch Edward who made the wrong move at the right moment. Feeling a certain lightness in my movements, I enthusiastically and with relief sat back at the table and stretched my shoulders a little. Edward was completely dumbfounded and it was clear from his iridescent scarlet face and pursed lips that all emotions came to life inside Nygma, but most of them were children's. He wanted to shout something, but he was interrupted by the expected knock on the door.
- Dr. Crane. Time.- a guard, who stands outside every session in case the patient starts to show aggression, leaning out of the slightly open door warned me.
- Give us a couple more minutes, please. We're almost done.- in response, the guard silently nodded to me and carefully closed the door. At Edward's request, our sessions mostly take place in the evening before the end of my working day and the beginning of the lights out at the clinic, because during the daytime he wants to do leisure so that it won't be boring at all, and I always try to meet Edward halfway and changed my schedule. I like this solution myself, since sessions with Nygma are a sip of the desired adequacy and something interesting after the same type, boring and stupid meetings with other patients. And even with colleagues... Edward calmed down a little and just fiddled with his fingers, pouting and turning away from me. If someone else were in my place, he would not be able to restrain his emotions and would probably use violent methods, since he can no longer act with his mind, but Edward is not so shy about losing with me. This is a great achievement. One of Nygma's weaknesses is losing, so all the doctors tried to forcibly create this situation and got bad results. And I let Edward train on me, and when he loses, which rarely happens, he just gets offended, but thinks about his mistakes and gets better. It's like a child who wants to become an adult too early. But when he suffers small failures, I don't mock him, I don't poke a finger at him, I just let him try again. That's how I earned such an attitude from the Riddler to my person.
- Our session will end soon and it's time for me to go home, so we don't have much time, Edward. You can change my mind or confirm my words. And please, don't take offense at me too much, it will only help me understand you, Edward, and figure out exactly how to help you.- I dropped the competitive atmosphere and smiled amicably, thereby offering a calm truce, from which both sides will be in a better position.
- Not so fast, Dr. Crane! You know me pretty well and understand that I don't like it when the answers are too... simple.- he grinned solemnly and almost jumped up in his chair. Almost... I almost broke through all the layers of he's soul to touch the truth and see the extent of all the wounds of the past, but Edward wouldn't let me in because of a lack of trust. Or is he deliberately delaying this moment?..
- A new riddle? I'm listening to you carefully, Edward.- in order to do everything in time, I immediately took a notebook and pencil for a new note. Actually, it made me a little sad, but I kept a sweet smile on my face. Edward has permission for such dirty tricks and in such situations it is better to give in to him. I think he wants at least an official draw.
- Hah, no! You've probably been used to my riddles for a long time, so I have something else for you. It's not really a riddle, but you'll have to think about it too. You'll understand the answer when you bring me the thing I look like, Dr. Crane. You can find it or make it with your own hands, but I want to see it.-when Edward finished and gave me a mischievous look with a thin smile, the door of the office opened without warning, and the guard standing on the threshold, a little gloomy and obviously tired, silently rang with handcuffs. At the moment, I was very puzzled and confused by a really new challenge that I didn't have time to say anything, but I was forced to just nod to the guard. While he handcuffed his hands, Edward chuckled softly at my surprised expression, parted mouth and dropped pencil. Something inside me collapsed into a deep abyss, I didn't want to end the session, I still need to talk to him, clarify his words, but too hasty time separated us again and threw us into different corners. The guard escorted Edward out of the office without another word. The door closed behind them with a creak, and I was left alone with my thoughts, which were now impossible to make out, and silence. Like ice water, I was doused with a sharp longing and misunderstanding, I was lost. Did I understand what Edward said correctly? The thing you look like... then I'll understand the answer. With senseless hope, my hand weakly grabbed a pencil and wrote it down on a crumpled piece of paper, as if it would bring some understanding. Without taking my eyes off this short gray line, I tapped my fingernail on the table and tried to think everything over. What's it?.. Edward's new way of fencing himself off because he doesn't like the way I treat him? Or did I hit the wrong spot right now, made a wrong step, said too much and scared him or insulted him... hurt him?
It was no longer possible to linger between these ancient walls, I quickly packed up all my things and changed for the long road home. They say that an inexperienced doctor who stayed overnight in Arkham may not be found in the morning. Despite the fact that I worked as a teacher not so long ago, I have more experience as a psychotherapist than many, but I have no desire to check this story on my own skin. An already small reserve of strength needs to be spent on more important things. "When you bring me the thing I look like," a piece of paper with this entry lay in the breast pocket of my coat and was periodically taken out by a hand freezing in the cold autumn wind. Dark clouds had been hanging over Gotham for several weeks, but now they were gathering in my head. What associations can I have? I don't think that Edward will be pleased with some small and biting animal I brought, as well as my colleagues. Moreover, he mentioned that I can also assemble the "answer" with my own hands. The scope is too wide, there is not even an assumption to which topic to turn to, in the process of searching and creating, or an important essence is contained in the definition of the subject. Do I see this thing every day or do I need to bring something that I didn't know about at all? At home, as usual, I was greeted by deathly silence and anxious, appealing layers of dust. This tedious work takes almost all the strength and scrapes the brain out of the skull with a teaspoon. A viscous and slow circle that I have to go through day after day, constantly thinking about my small and cozy stone coffin with windows. Wanting to sink deep, deep into the bed, so that its softness swallowed me like snow, and I no longer heard the speech about uniqueness from the mediocre walking in identical straitjackets. Not work, but torture, driving you crazy, forcing you to balance on a fine line between an adequate, reasonable doctor and a madman who is convinced that logic is subject only to him, that only he knows and embodies the truth. If the Riddler hadn't been brought to Arkham for long-term treatment, then I would have melted like a candle long ago, slowly, painfully, inevitably, and my own twisted mind would have become an unquenchable fire. Should I thank Batman for catching Edward every time and bringing his exhausted body back, to me? And I no longer allow other doctors who support rigid treatment methods to harm him even more. I have never had such expressions of care, I have never clung to something or... to someone. Everything seemed to be a stormy current, which sooner or later will bring somewhere, but now I stumbled upon a large stone, but did not break, no, I was able to emerge from the muted and turbidity bottom. Breathing in a different air, seeing clear pictures that had previously been blurred by water, I began to discover new feelings that quickly blossomed and filled my chest from the touch of the warm sun. In the past, they were ignored or simply absent from my life, and now there are so many of them that pain is felt, one of the signs of adaptation. The thought slipped through to give Edward a similar answer, but with a more colorful association. A lighthouse, a landmark, a pier of tranquility in the middle of a storm. No, he will misunderstand me! I'll be a complete idiot if I expose all my weaknesses. Who of the main villains of Gotham will not want to take advantage of a vulnerable and lonely doctor to break out of the hated cage again? Unfortunately, this has already happened in Arkham. And not once.