Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gotham was a lot of things. 

It was the place you called home, it was the place where your brother was murdered, and it was the place where 12 strangers condemned you. 

But right now, all Gotham was to you was cold. 

You shook as you sat in your corner of the building you were taking shelter from the rain. You were sure it looked like you were convulsing instead of shivering. You had tried in the beginning to fight the shaking of your body, but after a while, you gave up. The shaking was an unfortunate byproduct of the Gotham winter and your current outfit. All you had were your inmate clothes (read: threadbare, worn paper thin, orange jumpsuit) and a puffy jacket you had reclaimed from what you supposed was a dead man. You were not sure if he was dead or just really tired, but he hadn’t resisted when you pulled the jacket from him. 

Still, what you did have was not enough to stave off the cold threatening your life. You were still damp from the rain that had started a little over an hour ago (not that you really knew, time blended together here), but you knew you had to keep moving or risk frostbite. However, that was easier said than done. Once you curled into the fetal position, it was like your muscles locked you into place. 

Fuck it was cold. 

You had to grit your teeth to keep them from clacking, something you were adamant about. You did not want to make any noise because you could not risk getting found by a thug in this state. Well, really any state. There was no way that you could win a fight with any of the hard criminals that roamed the streets. 

The only good thing about the cold was that it distracted you from how hungry you were. The last time you ate was around two days ago, and your last proper meal was five days ago, right before you got dumped into Arkham City. When you got dropped in, it was chaos. There was looting and territory claims being made - you had been lucky enough to slip under the radar. Your last food was also courtesy of maybe-dead-guy. He had a backpack which had exactly one protein bar and a bottle of water. You tried to make it last, but it was a lost cause. 

Now as the sky darkened, you wondered if dehydration or the cold would get to you first. Or maybe it would be a thug. 

You shuddered at the thought. Hopefully it was one of the first two. 

Your last hope of warmth disappeared over the horizon. You felt the temperature drop even further, and you thought numbly that maybe it would be the cold. 

It was at that moment - the horrible, depressing moment - that you noticed a faint green glow coming from the adjacent room. You frowned, or grimaced, you weren’t sure which, and turned to look. The newfound darkness revealed the pale, green light you had missed earlier when you first entered the building. 

You uncurled yourself and rolled onto your feet. You stood up, admittedly quite unsteady, and walked towards the light. 

The next room over was completely empty, save one feature. It was odd, because most of the furniture in this building had been smashed and the pieces left to rot. This room, however, was completely clean. In the center was a trophy of some sorts. It was glowing green and in the shape of a question mark. You could see that it had a splayed open cage around it from the glow emanating from the trophy. Curious, you took a few steps closer. Once you were about four feet away, the cage snapped shut with a clang. The noise startled you more than it should have and you jumped back. After you jumped back, the cage opened again with another clang. You quickly looked around to see if anyone heard the noises. You didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. 

Once you were (mostly) sure no one heard, you looked back at the trophy. You had no idea what it was for, but you were no idiot. Green and question marks were the calling card of one prominent villain in this city. You were not sure why the Riddler had taken the time to set something like this up, but there had to be a reason. Maybe if you solved it, he would give you something…

Unlikely. However, you had nothing else to do. You exited the room and went back into the main lobby. You looked around until you saw what you were looking for. You walked up to a couch that had been bashed to pieces and started ripping the edging from the remnants of the cushion. What you were left with was almost a rope made out of couch fabric. 

On your way back to the trophy room, you fashioned a knot at the end of your makeshift rope. You positioned yourself so the hook of the question mark was facing away from you and threw your rope. It took a couple tries to get the distance right, but once you did, it was worth it. You reeled the trophy towards you, then picked it up with a smile. 

Then you frowned. 

Well, now what?

?

Edward was so very, absolutely, and unequivocally bored.  

Yes, being in this city was a significant step up from Arkham Asylum. Yes, he had so much more freedom and rights and everything and whatever.  

Arkham City didn’t have The Batman. Batman was the only thing that kept Edward’s mind occupied. Striving to prove how much smarter he was than Batman was everything to Edward. Which is why promptly after being dumped here, he began to have his henchmen enact and put in place The Riddler’s trophies. Edward knew that Batman would have to come here at some point. It was inevitable. A city full of the crooks he put away? How could he resist such temptation?

So Edward prepared. He prepared and prepared. He needed to be ready for when his nemesis entered the city. 

An alarm began to beep on his phone. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Another trophy sensor activated. Edward usually ignored these notifications, as they were common. However, at this particular moment, he could feel the synapses in his brain going dormant. He needed to do something , even if that something was watching some random thug fail miserably at his trophy challenge. 

He rolled the desk chair he was currently in over to his monitors. With a few swift and accurate clicks, his computer set-up woke up. He entered his password and pulled up the cameras covering all of his trophies. It was easy to find the one whose alarm went off, and pulled the camera up. 

He saw nothing in the room currently, just his trophy in the proximity cage. He frowned and rewound the footage to the point where the motion sensor went off. 

The video began with a figure in a large brown jacket facing away from the camera. The figure walked towards the trophy. Edward felt the corner of his mouth tick upwards. The figure drew closer and closer to the trophy when - clang ! Edward could not hear the noise - the cameras were not equipped with audio - but he could imagine it in his head with crystal clarity. 

Even better was the person’s reaction. They jumped almost a foot into the air and backed away from the trap. The trap fell open again, and the figure looked around cautiously. 

This was one of the easier puzzles for Batman to figure out. All he needed to do was use his grappling hook and pull the trophy to him. This schmuck, however, did not have a grappling hook. Edward did not have to be a genius to figure that out. 

Edward was a genius, though. And because of that heavy burden, he noticed something strange about this person. They had looked around them like they were being cautious or scared, something that a confident criminal would not do. The figure couldn’t have been someone else’s underling, which begged the question, who were they? 

Edward’s eyes bore into the monitor, willing the figure to turn around and face the camera. Unfortunately, Edward’s idiot henchmen set up the camera incorrectly so that their face could not be seen. The figure exited to the left, presumably leaving the room. 

Edward sank into his chair and sighed. How boring . They weren’t even going to try? Edward felt all his curiosity over this mystery man fizzle out. Edward was disappointed immeasurably. 

He looked down at his phone, pushing away from the monitors. He swiped through some things, before he noticed one notification. 

399/400

What?

400 was the number of trophies he had set up within the city limits of Arkham City. 

And now one was missing. 

Edward frantically pushed back to his desk and brought up the camera again. It was now a completely black screen, and a smile crawled its way onto Edward’s face. The trophy, the only source of light in the room, was gone. 

Oh how fun!  

He rewound the video once more and saw the figure reenter the room with something in their hands. He watched as they walked around the trophy to the other side and - 

Edward cursed. Even with this new angle he couldn’t see the man’s face properly. He watched as the man attempted to rope in the trophy a few times before successfully pulling it towards themself. The man straightened up, holding the trophy, and just stood there for a moment.

Edward was practically vibrating with excitement. Sure, this was a fairly simple puzzle, but no one in the city had been able to solve any of them so far. Sure, there were a few halfhearted attempts, but there were even more cases of people ignoring them. Which was fine, the puzzles weren’t meant for those idiots. They were meant for Batman… 

Edward set to work activating the tracker in the trophy. He located it quickly and found it on the third floor of an adjacent building. He could only surmise that he had it with him. Well, one could hope. 

He frantically flicked through other security cameras placed along the route they traveled until he found one that they walked by, then they looked directly at the camera-  

Oh.  

Arms folded across their chest revealed a profile that was distinctly not male and captured her face bathed in a pale, green glow of the trophy she was holding. What appeared to be a puffy jacket had been hiding her features from him, leading him to assume the figure was male.

The picture was grainy but he could still make out her features. The mystery man turned out to be a woman. Edward was markedly surprised; the only female criminals in Arkham City were the big names. The ones who could fend for themselves. Not this scared girl. 

The fact only raised his interest. 

But even more than that, Edward felt a magnetic pull to her picture. She was, quite literally, gorgeous. Her face was dirty and tinted green, but Edward didn't think he had ever seen anyone as absolutely beautiful as this woman was… 

It took him a minute to recollect himself. 

What the hell was wrong with him? Ogling at some common criminal’s pictures? 

Another voice spoke up in his mind. She is far from common.

Edward frowned. She really wasn't common, she was ethereal, especially in his signature color. 

Edward pondered it for a moment longer before making a decision. It was pointless to deny it, she was quite literally gorgeous. 

Who is she?

He set to work trying to find her record at Arkham Asylum. It wasn’t long until he ran into a large problem. 

She wasn’t in the Arkham Asylum database. 

How interesting.  

Edward dug through records from other prison transfers, only to come up empty handed. The lack of information was frustrating. 

But the more elusive she seemed, the more he was drawn to her. He couldn't help but wonder if she had the brains to go along with her beauty. 

A grin spread across his face. He already knew exactly how to find the answer to this question. 

Edward quickly set to work delivering orders for all the traps in Wonder City to be altered. His men grumbled and groaned, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that Batman could come any time, all that mattered was that she was there. 

Because now Edward had a new project. 

And that project was her.

?

It was only after you had woken up from your horrible sleep that you realized keeping the trophy was probably not a good idea. 

Putting aside all the obvious reasons (it was a waste of space, it produced a light that could attract attention, it was so very obviously not meant for you), and focusing on the one glaring reason, you began to feel sick to your stomach. 

There was no way the Riddler did not have a tracking device in the trophy. 

That fact became abundantly clear when, as soon as you woke up, the trophy was gone. In its place was a small, green box with black question marks scribbled on all the sides. You scrambled to your feet and backed away from it. It could have been a bomb. 

Well, not a bomb. That wasn’t the Riddler’s style. Bombs in boxes felt more like the Joker. 

Still, the box could be dangerous. It was in your best interest to just leave it there. Pretend like nothing happened. 

But as you looked at the box, you noticed writing on top. You leaned in closer to see what it said. 

Scrawled on top of the box in almost illegible writing was one word: reward . 

You cocked your head and frowned. A reward? For what? Solving a puzzle? It seemed too good to be true. 

You pushed out your leg and nudged the box. 

It didn’t explode. 

You sighed. You had one of two choices now. Open the box and face certain doom, or ignore a very clear request from a villain and face certain doom. You were sure the Riddler would not respond well to someone rejecting his gift. 

So, in the end, what choice did you have?

You knelt down beside the box and opened it. 

Inside the box were two items. What looked to be an earbud with a plastic part that wrapped around the ear and a protein bar. 

You thought for a moment. Why would he give you an earpiece if he was planning to poison you with a protein bar? He would have skipped the trouble of including it and just sent the poisoned bar. 

With that sound logic, you tore into the protein bar. You wolfed it down without a second thought. It was gone before you could process it, and you were upset that you didn’t savor it more. Still, you had a comfortable weight in your stomach, and that was better than nothing. 

All in at this point, you pushed back your hair and popped the earpiece onto your ear. 

You waited a moment then a burst of static echoed in your ear. 

“Well, that took you long enough .” The voice was warbled, as if being run through some sort of machine. The tone was distinctly machine made, but the words came from someone. You could assume it was male from the low tone, but you couldn’t be sure. 

You weren’t sure what to say, so you didn’t. 

“I hope you enjoyed your treat, though it looked like you barely tasted it.” The voice crackled with a chuckle. 

A wave of horror washed over you. You looked around yourself wildly to look for the camera he was watching you with. 

The voice in your ear laughed, loud and mocking. “Don’t waste your time, you won’t find the camera. ” 

With that, you sighed and sunk back into your corner. Great. You just had to pick up that trophy and now you were at the mercy of this freak. Just great. 

“You aren’t in Arkham’s records, ” the voice prodded, stating a fact that you were well aware of. You weren’t in Arkham’s records because you never went to Arkham Asylum. But what was the point in telling him that? If he really wanted to know who you were, he would find out. You were sure he had the capabilities. Granted, your story was brushed under the rug, but it wasn’t like you were impossible to find. You just needed to know where to look. 

“Want to play a little game? ” 

You pursed your lips. “What kind of game?”

“Ah, the little mouse finds her voice; it seems I have caught her interest. A game where you solve my riddles to acquire the sustenance you so desperately need. ”

Now that was interesting. Why would the Riddler take the time to set up puzzles for you? Was he just fucking around with you?

You pouted and thought. Your mind was still hazy from malnutrition and dehydration, so when you pressed yourself for reasoning, you couldn't come up with anything. You couldn't fathom a reason why the Riddler had taken interest in you. Still, he spoke sense. You needed help if you were going to stay alive in this hellhole. 

Your choice was made for you. 

“Okay,” you nodded. 

“Excellent, ” the Riddler replied. “ Crime is a global issue. Not even the rich can run from it. ”

You frowned. It was obviously a riddle, one meant for you to solve, but something was off about it. He mentioned the rich not being able to run from crime - it sounded eerily close to your story. You shook it off. He was probably trying to rile you up. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter if the Riddler read your file. All that mattered was that you lived through this. 

“Okay.” You stood up and pulled your ratty backpack on. You looked around yourself and nodded. 

You set off to solve your first riddle. You were mainly confused and scared about these wild turns your life had taken, however you now had something you didn’t before. 

Hope. 

So you set off on your first riddle, not sure exactly how you felt about this turn of events. 

It took only twenty minutes for the Riddler to grow agitated with you. 

To be fair, you were crawling through the city streets at an extremely slow pace. Part of it was that you couldn’t remember where the giant globe was in Wonder City, and the other part was because you were being cautious of thugs around you. Nothing had really changed, you still couldn’t take these thugs in a fight. 

“Are you wasting my time ?” 

You shook your head and shushed him lightly. You peered around the corner of the building and thought about whether or not you could make a break for it across the street. His snide comments and exasperated sighs were distracting. 

“Did… did you just shush me? ” 

You decided to waltz across the street, hoping that if anyone saw you, they would mistake you for a fellow thug. Not even halfway across the street, the Riddler spoke again. 

“ Do not ignore me, woman, ” his altered voice growled low in your ear. 

“You’re distracting me,” you whispered harshly. “Just wait.”

“ I don’t see why you’re so worried. If you get picked up, I'll send some men to retrieve you. ”

“You would?” You scoffed.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want anyone else playing with my new toy. ” You could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke, even with the voice modulator. 

You grit your teeth. “Fuck off. Don’t call me that.”

“Did I strike a nerve? ” 

He did, in fact, strike a nerve. However, you would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“You can pretend to enjoy this a little less.” You finally got your bearings and realized you were on the right track. You walked with more purpose, more confident now.

“What else am I to call you? You are an interesting new thing for me to spend time on. ”

“Not a thing,” you asserted. The globe came into view and you quickened your pace. “No wonder you’re so bored, you probably don’t have very many friends.”

You found another package decorated similarly to the first at the base of the globe. You rushed over and looked around. You were relatively covered, so you took the time to open it. Inside was a dried fruit MRE and two water bottles. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you shoved them in your backpack. You picked up the remnants of the package and disposed of it in the nearest trash can.

You searched for the nearest building and hunkered down in a corner to eat your reward. You took more time, tasting the dried apples and savoring them as they went down. You didn’t think you had ever tasted anything as good as this old MRE. The package didn’t even have a best by date, since it was so worn and faded. 

After finishing the apples, you downed a bottle in one go, leaving the second for later. 

It was around that time that you realized that the Riddler had been uncharacteristically quiet. You frowned and took out the receiver. The light was still on, so you assumed it was still working. Mustering your courage, you cleared your throat and spoke. 

“You there?”

“Yes. Why? ” The response was immediate. 

“Just checking.”

“Do these demonic twins pose a threat? ”

Back to business. You pushed yourself to your feet and started walking, feeling much better now that you had food and water in your system. 

Chapter Text

Edward was over the moon. Every riddle and puzzle he threw the woman's way, she solved. She barely paused, she flew through the tests with ease. And Edward couldn't be happier. 

The two had fallen into a sort of routine over the past few days. Edward would wait for the woman to wake up and put her earpiece in, he would then send her all over Wonder City looking for food packages, and then she would find shelter and take the earpiece out again. Edward didn’t mind that she took the earpiece out to sleep. It almost seemed too intimate to be around her like that. 

He spent the hours she slept digging for more information on her. He was becoming increasingly frustrated with how little he was able to find out. She was smart, but nothing exceptional. She did solve all of Edward’s riddles with ease, he had to give her that much. Still, the more her story eluded him, the more intrigued he became with her. The thought of asking her directly had crossed his mind more than once, but was always quickly dismissed. He would never lower himself like that, her story was a riddle he had to solve himself. 

Besides the time she had insulted him by saying he had no friends, she avoided speaking to Edward. She was quiet and unassuming. 

Still, it was something to do and it entertained him to watch her solve his puzzles. 

Edward was content. 

He had announced that she had received her last riddle of the day over an hour ago. He assumed she found a place to sleep for the night and moved on to different tasks. He was losing food, having to give her some. Resource drops were few and far between in Arkham City, and most of the supplies were fought over by the bigger gangs. Edward subsisted on his moles bringing food to him. 

As Edward was thinking of ways to sustain his living situation as well as provide for his new fixation, a voice crackling through his headphones startled him. 

“Do you have another riddle?”

Edward blinked.

What?

Edward quickly pulled up the camera of the building she had been sleeping in the past few days. She was seated on the edge of a balcony, her legs dangling out over the open air. 

Edward scrambled to click on his microphone. “Uh, well, I don’t have any rewards around, but I can see what I can do…” 

“No, no, I just…” She let out a heaving sigh. “I’m bored.”

“Oh… Okay… I see.”

“So?”

The riddle fell from his lips without any effort. “What has a neck but no head?”

“A bottle. Next.” 

He smiled. “The more you take, the more you leave behind.”

She rolled her head back and pouted. “Footsteps. Why are you going so easy on me?”

“Oh? Not challenging enough.”

“Yes and you know it.”

He did know it. She had been to solve all of his riddles in Wonder City. At first he gave her the easy ones, but all of them had been meant for Batman. She was smart. He just was worried. He was worried that she wouldn't live up to his expectations. She was the only person, other than the Batman of course, that he had taken special interest in. He didn't want to be disappointed. 

“Fine. The person who makes it has no need of it; the person who buys it has no use of it. The person who uses it cannot see it nor feel it. What is it?” 

She hummed in thought. 

“Need a hint?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “I'll let you know.” 

“Right, okay.” Edward nodded awkwardly. He wasn't sure how to fill the silence that ensued, but it gave him anxiety. She said she would let him know, so he didn't want to stay anything, so Edward waited pathetically for her to speak again.

“Do dead people use it?” 

A grin spread across Edward’s face. “Yes.”

“A coffin. My turn.” 

“Your turn for what?” 

“A riddle. I'll come up with one. If you don't mind?” The end of her sentence ticked up, betraying her uncertainty. “I don't know if it'll be too easy and boring for you.” 

“No, no,” Edward hurried to say. “I'd love to hear it.”

“Okay,” she answered, and Edward didn't have to look at the cameras to know she was smiling. “Gold in a treasure chest, with no lock or key, but I am fragile and easy to open.”

Edward couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face. It was a simple riddle, for sure, and no match for his master intellect. But the fact that she was engaging with him in wordplay was something else. No one had ever given Edward the time of day with his riddles, let alone make one for him. He couldn't describe the feeling he had, all he knew was that he had not felt this way in a long time, if ever. 

“Do you, uh, need a hint?” The woman's unsure voice startled Edward and he jumped in his seat. He hadn't noticed that he had been quiet for so long. 

Because he was caught off guard, he responded quickly and bluntly. “Egg.” After the word tumbled out, he smacked his forehead. What kind of idiot just says egg? Ridiculous. 

The woman’s shoulders slumped. “I knew it would be too easy…” 

“No- I mean yes, but, well…” Edward wasn't sure how to remedy the situation. So he turned to the only thing that made sense to him. 

“You see a boat filled with people. It has not sunk, but you don't see a single person on the boat when you look again.”

“They’re all married,” she answered quickly. “I have heard that one before.”

“Oh? From who?” Edward’s innocent query was fueled by jealousy. He couldn’t help but feel upset over the fact that she may have done this with someone else. It almost spoiled the whole event. This was something special. He didn’t want her to have done this with anyone else. 

She hesitated, sucking in a deep breath. After she let it out, she responded. “My brother. He loved to trick me with them. All of his riddles had the answer in plain sight.” 

“Oh…” Edward suddenly felt guilty for feeling so jealous, which was an uncomfortable and foreign feeling. He never usually felt guilty because he was never wrong about anything. So being wrong about this was certainly new. “He sounds intelligent.”

“He really was…” She trailed off, then cleared her throat. “Want another? I can’t promise it’ll be good.”

“I appreciate the effort nonetheless,” Edward tried to sound less desperate than he felt. He obviously didn't miss her pointed use of the past tense to refer to her brother. He wasn't keen on talking about something that upset her so much, so he was all for the topic change. 

“Okay,” she said, then launched into another fairly simple riddle. 

As the two of them talked, Edward couldn't help but feel like something had shifted between them. 

?

You were pretty sure you were going insane. 

You had to be hallucinating at the very least. Ever since the night where you had asked for a riddle out of sheer boredom, the Riddler has been nice to you. 

It was small things at first. He stopped griping about how long it took you to solve his riddles, how long it took you to navigate Wonder City. Then he started making small talk. Stuff like how annoyed he was at a certain goon for messing up a drop. You had thought, at first, it was a backhanded way of insulting you. However, he never got to that point. He was simply venting about his day. Then came the part where you were sure you were hallucinating: the praise. 

“Come again?”

“ Did I cut out? My apologies, all I said was good job. ” 

He most certainly did not say good job. He had said, “I'm impressed by your intellect,” which are two very different things. The latter implied a certain degree of reverence that the former did not. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You opened your package, then paused. Up until this point, he had provided you with the bare necessities. Food, water, first aid supplies, nothing much beyond that. But this package did not have bare necessities. 

“Um, Riddler?” 

“ Yes? ” His answer was immediate, voice laced with worry, evident even through the voice modulator. “ Do you not like it? ” 

“No, I do, I'm just…” you frowned. You pulled the deep green hoodie out of the box to reveal a brighter green windbreaker. Embroidered on the windbreaker was a small, black question mark over the right breast. You felt the fabric between your fingers; it was thick and quality. Nothing like the piece of shit jacket barely staving off the cold. 

“I'm just surprised,” You finished your thought honestly. “This is really nice, where did you get it?” 

“ Oh, it was just laying around, I mean I had never used it, so I thought that maybe, y’know, you’d like it. I guess .”

The realization hit you like a freighter. The jacket was his. Your brain wasn't sure what to do with that information. He had given you something of his… It was so intimate. 

“ Do you… not like it? ” The voice was hesitant, a stark contrast to its deep robotic timbre. 

“No I do, it's just-” You were about to tell him it seemed too nice of a gesture for you to accept, when his voice cut you off. 

“ Sorry, but there's a couple of goons heading your way. It would be best to keep moving. ” 

“Alright,” you agreed and snapped back into business mode. You slung the pair of jackets over your arm and started moving. “Which way?” 

“ Go east, ” he answered. 

You walked briskly, following his instructions. He led you to a building to take shelter in, before announcing the threat was gone. 

The Riddler had been guiding you to safe spots for you to rest for the night. He had been switching up where you stayed so that it would be easier to not get caught. You appreciated the assistance, knowing damn well you would have been dead by now had it not been for the Riddler. 

Once you settled into where you would be sleeping for the night, you took a second look at the pair of jackets. They looked warm… 

You decided it would be better to just wear the stupid things. You shrugged off your dirty jacket and pulled on the hoodie and windbreaker. You were immediately enveloped by the strong scent of freshly laundered clothes. You knew it wouldn't last too long, though, as there weren't any showers for you to use. The last time you showered was the last time you had an actual meal. 

You could tell you were losing weight at a rapid pace, but there wasn't much you could do about it. At least you were still alive. 

You settled into the floor as best you could and closed your eyes.

?

Edward wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. 

Well, that was not accurate. Edward had not been doing anything wrong. She was not cooperating. 

After gifting his own jackets, he had given her a pillow, a sleeping bag, meals other than protein bars, and many more luxuries that were incredibly difficult for Edward to procure and yet…

Nothing. 

The woman had not expressed her gratitude, complimented Edward’s riddles or craftsmanship or stimulating conversation- there had been absolutely no progress! 

To be honest, Edward wasn’t sure what he wanted progress on, but he couldn’t help but feel something was lacking. Something was missing . Something she had and wasn’t giving to him and fucking hell it was bothering him!

Edward wasn’t sure what was more bothersome, that he couldn’t put his finger on what she wasn’t doing or the fact that she wasn’t doing it. 

He was so very agitated and he had no idea how to fix it. 

So he did the only thing he knew how to do: he threw himself into his work. He crafted and created more intricate and difficult riddles for her to solve, puzzles for her to figure out, and while she slept he searched databases for her. 

He did not have a name, or a picture good enough to reverse image search a mugshot, so he really was working with absolutely nothing. 

He had nothing. All this work. And nothing to show for it. 

It was driving Edward mad.

A week passed with absolutely nothing to show for it. He was barely sleeping anymore, only napping really for small bouts of time. 

He could feel the exhaustion and hunger tugging at him even now, as she walked to her destination. They were not talking, as Edward had grown tired of carrying the conversation by himself. So he turned back to hacking into the Arkham database. 

He had scoured Arkham’s files over a million times by now, but could not find any record of her. He tried looking at prisoners transferred to Arkham from another prison, but that didn’t pan out either. It was almost as if she never was an Arkham inmate. 

Suddenly, all at once, the realization bowled Edward over. It sucked the air out of his lungs and made his eyes go wide. 

She was never an Arkham inmate. 

She was never an Arkham inmate!  

It took exactly four minutes and 37 seconds for Edward to locate her file in Blackgate Penintantary’s files. It was locked behind multiple security measures, but that barely slowed Edward down. Edward was giddy, almost ecstatic, as he pulled up her mugshot. 

He read her name slowly, then whispered it to himself. 

He glossed over the file, then with a triumphant smirk, he flicked on his microphone. 

He announced her name in a tone of pure, unadulterated glee. He had her now. He knew her name. 

“Yes?” She responded rather quickly and offhandedly as she walked. 

The joy drained from Edward as fast as it arrived. Why was she being so nonchalant? He figured her out! He knew!

Anger quickly filled the void. 

He quickly rattled off her inmate number, date of birth, and crime. Two counts of first degree murder. He read their names to her, then started reading her sentencing. Life without…

He faltered. 

Her victims were two males. 

One carried her current last name. 

The other carried her maiden name. 

He was staring dumbfounded at the names when her cold and calculated voice shook him from his stupor. 

“Yeah? You think you know everything. You are so fucking smart, aren’t you?”

Her words echoed in his mind as she paused. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. 

You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?

“You’re just like the villains who condemned me in the first place. You think you’re so great for showing me human decency?”

You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?

“You think I owe you anything for what you have done for me?” 

You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?

The voice sounded eerily like his father’s and Edward’s chest was on fire. Oh god, oh fuck, he couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t breathe!

The edges of his vision were going dark. 

He was going to pass out. 

Then he heard her voice, low and soft in his ears. 

“I owe you nothing.”

Her voice still held malice, but it was quiet, soft, and feminine. Nothing like his father’s screaming. 

Then, and only then, did Edward finally breathe. 

He gasped and sucked in huge lungfuls of air, gasping, heaving. 

His vision began to clear.

He was alright. He was okay.

His father was not here. 

Her voice pulled him back into reality.

“And just for your information, since that is clearly all you care about, that is not my name anymore.”

Edward came to his senses. “W-wait, that’s not-”

“Fuck! You!”

Edward felt a sharp pain in his chest as she punctuated her last two words to him. 

He didn’t have the time to pull up the corresponding camera watching over her before a piercing screech burst through his headphones. He let out a cry and threw the headphones into a corner. 

He sat there for a moment, stiller than he had ever been. His chest was in so much pain that it felt like he couldn’t breathe, let alone move. 

It felt like hours.

Time ticked as pieces of information slotted together in his mind. 

She was angry. 

Tick. 

She stomped on the earpiece. 

Tick. 

She had been shouting.

Tick. 

She was out in the open. 

Tick. 

She was in danger.

Edward was sure he moved faster than he had ever in his entire life. He pulled up the last known place the earpiece had been and scoured the cameras for her presence. 

Edward was sure that he knew damn well what despair was long before this day. 

But when he finally found her, finally pulled up the camera and saw her being dragged away by two thugs…

It shook him like nothing had before. 

Chapter Text

You really had no one to blame but yourself for your current predicament, to be quite honest. 

You were an absolute and utter fool for depending on someone other than yourself. Sure it was either accept the Riddler’s help or waste away and die, but surely dying prematurely would be better than the fate that awaited you now. 

All you knew was that you were strapped down to a chair, restraints holding you secure. There was a sack obscuring your vision, so you weren’t sure where you were or who was around you. You were not sure what fate awaited you. 

The men who had dragged you away only referred to their leader as “the boss,” so you really weren’t sure which way you were going to die. Not until you were finally unveiled to a creep with a mask made of the same material that previously obscured your vision, burlap. 

His cloak was patchwork and he had some sort of mask on. He didn’t look like any Gotham villain you were aware of, though. 

Well, fuck. Someone you were unfamiliar with. Great. 

“How intriguing… a woman,” he purred in a gravelly voice. You could tell he was using a voice modulator, his voice buzzing and unnaturally deep. “A woman in green, it really must be my lucky day.”

You kept quiet. The man’s head tilted down, scanning you, before landing on your left breast. 

“What is this?” His hand shot out and snatched the material of your jacket, pulling you uncomfortably upwards against your restraints. “Answer me!”

“The fuck does it look like?” You snapped back at him, your voice more frail and shaky than you would have preferred. 

The man growled and dropped you, your chair tilting dangerously back, before settling on its feet again. 

“Who picked her up?” The masked man rounded on his lackeys. He did not wait for an answer. “I wanted scum no one would miss, not the fucking Riddler’s pet!”

The masked man sighed through his modulator and rounded on you once more. 

“Well, let's have some fun before he comes and gets you. Can’t let a perfectly good specimen go to waste, now can we?”

He reached out with a gloved hand and brushed your cheek. It took all that you had to keep still and not move. 

“And an obedient one… I’d love to see what your nightmares are about.”

Bile crept up your throat. You were not obedient. You just knew how to bide your time.

You gathered all the moisture in your mouth and spat it at him. He cursed and stumbled away, swiping at his mask. 

“Fuck you!” You sneered, happy with your small win.

“You bitch!” He cursed. You watched as he took a breath to collect himself, and he strode up to you. His steps were calm, but the grip he had on your chin betrayed his anger. “You will be begging for me to kill you,” he growled through his modulator, vitriol dripping from his words. 

But for some reason, you had the feeling he wasn’t going to kill you. What he was going to do was probably much, much worse. 

The man drew away. “Give her the newest formula, only one liter. I don’t want to break her, yet.”

Fear seized you as an underling stepped forward with a canister of what you decided was not in fact oxygen. Suddenly your head was strapped down to the back of the chair as well, and a clear, plastic mask was placed over your face. 

You tried not to breathe in the cool gas, but as you could not hold your breath forever, you sucked in a lungful. 

You coughed on the thick air, squeezing your eyes shut. When you finally composed yourself and opened them, you gasped. 

Right in front of you was your brother, alive and well. He had that stupid half smirk on his face he always had when he was teasing you. You whispered his name softly, and he smiled and nodded. 

Just as you were about to tell him to run, to get away from these people, his expression changed. Pain flashed across his features, and a frown lingered. He slowly looked down at his hands and you followed his gaze. 

And screamed. 

His hands were dripping red onto the carpet of his apartment. You had stopped by on your way home just to say hello, you had gotten off early from work and you wanted to vent about your day. Of course your brother was more than willing to talk- 

Your brother coughed again. 

You could do something this time, save him, change what happened!

You flailed in your restraints, straining your muscles to get yourself free. You had to get out, you had to do something! Something, anything!

Your brother swayed, then crumpled to the floor. You screamed his name in desperation, but that did not get you any closer to him. You watched as he clutched his chest in a desperate attempt to keep the blood from spilling out. 

You continued thrashing in your restraints, desperate to save him. If you could just put pressure on it, you could save him, you could help him. 

“Let me go, he’s dying, he’s dying! Someone help! Please!”

Voices murmured around you. They jumbled together until they coalesced into a chant. 

You did it, you killed him. You did it, you killed him. You did it, you killed-

“No, please, I didn’t, I didn’t!” You thrashed and strained and bucked and still couldn’t get out of your restraints. You began to weep, ugly and broken, as you watched your brother bleed out for the second time in your life. 

Numbly, you heard a curse and the front door slam. 

But this time, you didn’t follow the perpetrator out the door. You didn’t chase after him. You didn’t tackle him to the ground. You didn’t wrestle the knife, slick with your brother’s blood away from him and-

You shut your eyes as you sobbed. 

Slowly but surely, the panic faded and ebbed until you were left sniffling. 

Your chin was grabbed and your face slapped. 

“Open your eyes!”

You obeyed, blinked open your puffy eyes. 

“What did you see?” The man was in your face, impatient and angry. 

Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked over to where your brother’s body laid just moments before. 

But he wasn’t there. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but it was raw from screaming. All that came out was a raspy question: “What the fuck?”

“What did you see?” He pressed once more. 

“My brother…” You rasped honestly. “He… he…”

“He what? ” He roared and gripped your face, fingers digging into your cheeks. 

“He was dead!” You cried out in pain. Obviously that was not the answer he was looking for, because he sighed in disgust and dropped his hand. “Three liters.” 

“No please-” Your mouth was covered with a mask once more and it began again. 

?

Edward was furious. He was angry with himself, his insensitivity, his idiocy. It only took a few moments before his body was moving. His mecha suit was a work-in-progress, but it was something. He couldn’t wait for goons to help him rescue her. He needed to move, and he needed to move now. 

Edward always worked the best after a failure. 

If Edward was anything, he was smart. He never made the same mistake twice. That is one of the things that set him leagues above the rest of Gotham’s villains. 

But once again, it was his uncontrollable need to win that laid him in his grave. He just had to push her like that. Speak without thinking. If he had taken even a second to think over what her crime implicated he wouldn’t have brought it up the way he did. 

He didn’t have time to be angry with himself like this, as he rushed to get the mecha in working order, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing. 

Why did he say that?

Edward huffed in exasperation; the screw he was working on stripped. 

With a yell, he launched his screwdriver at the drywall. The tool spun and embedded itself in the plaster with a thud. 

Edward’s body heaved as he breathed, huffing and puffing. 

His thoughts were a swirling mess. A tangled knot that he just couldn’t sort out. 

A question finally coalesced at the forefront of his mind. 

Why did he even care about this girl?

Edward immediately tried to shake the thought away, but flashes of damning evidence crossed his mind. Evidence that he did not treat her like some random goon. Flashes of late night riddle sessions, the jackets he had gifted her, praising her work in a way he had never done to anyone before. 

And now, dropping everything to rush over and pick her up. 

Edward stalled for another moment before he collected himself. 

She was just an interesting puzzle, a new toy to play with. Nothing more than a passing interest that he would get over eventually. 

Exactly like he got over his obsession with Batman?

Edward shook his head and stomped that thought out. He really did think too much sometimes. While he was here pondering what this girl’s importance to him was, she was likely getting ever closer to death. 

Edward marched over to the wall and pulled the tool out. 

And then he got back to work. 

He was out of his hideout, barking instructions at his underlings, within the hour. He stomped to a truck and clambered inside the back. His people shut the back of the truck and drove him to the location he requested. 

The drive took forever. Every second slowly ticked by slower than he could handle. His heartbeat was loud and quick in his head. 

When the truck slowed to a final stop, Edward nearly tore the door off the truck. He stomped his way to the warehouse, freezing when he heard it. 

Screams. 

She was screaming. 

Edward saw his vision go red.

He had never felt a rage this pure before. He could hear her screams in the next room over. Her screams of terror almost distracted him from one very important fact: there were no defenses. The warehouse was abandoned, save one lone chair with her strapped to it. 

He didn’t have time to think about how odd the situation was. 

He clambered out of the suit and rushed to her side, but as he drew near, her eyes locked on him and she screamed. 

On impulse, Edward drew back. 

Edward observed her as she frantically glanced around, eyes locking on objects that were not there. Her eyes were bloodshot, red, and puffy. He hesitated, deciding not to undo her restraints. She was thrashing hard and he didn’t want her to hurt herself. Something was obviously in her system. It would be impossible to tell what, though. By the time he would be able to get her back to his base, it would most likely have been worked out of her system. 

So he just had to wait. 

It felt like hours before she calmed enough for him to draw near. He cradled her face with one hand, the other holding one of her hands. 

Edward watched as the adrenaline faded and her eyelids grew heavy. Her eyes were unfocused, but they soon found his own. His heart leapt as he realized she finally saw him.

“Wh…who…?” Her voice was raspy and light, barely above a whisper.

Edward frowned. Of course she wouldn’t recognize him. She had never seen his face. Immeasurable disappointment dragged his heart out of his throat and into his gut. 

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m here now.”

She sagged in her chair and her eyes glazed over. They crossed, then uncrossed as she struggled to focus on him. 

“It’s okay,” he said again. He stroked her face and she leaned into the touch, making his heart skip a beat. “Relax, I’ve got you now.”

She nodded softly and her eyes fell shut. She slumped into Edward’s hand and she was out. 

He had her back. She was safe. 

Edward took a few steadying breaths. 

And then he undid her restraints.

Chapter Text

The first thought that entered your mind as soon as you woke up was how utterly warm you were. 

You were just so warm… Your room always ran a little cold, so having such a comfortable temperature was new to you. It was nice. The sheets around you smelled like cheap cologne. 

Slowly your senses started coming back to you. Your mouth tasted like cotton, your head itched, and your limbs were heavy. The warmth was beginning to become uncomfortable. 

You started making an attempt to pull yourself from sleep. You tried moving your body, but your limbs would not cooperate. 

You kept trying to move until finally, your eyes opened. It was dark where you were, save a pale green glow. You turned your head to the side to see a computer setup with a green screen saver, that had to be the source of the light. You tried to bring both hands up to scrub at your face, but only your right hand was able to move. Looking down, you saw that your left was trapped by a man's head. 

His head was turned away from you, so you couldn't see his features. You could see that he had your hand in both of his and he was resting on the pile of hands. His hair was brown and curly, and you could see from here that he was in need of a shower. 

It was at that point that your brain caught up to you and the events of the past few months washed over you like a tsunami. 

Your brother was dead. 

Your husband was dead. 

You were in Arkham City. 

And now, it seemed you were in this mystery man's bed. 

He could only really be one person, and you weren't sure how that made you feel. 

Certainly, he had saved you, but as the saying went you were out of the frying pan and into the fire. Being in the Riddler’s private abode couldn’t lead to something good. 

You supposed it was better than whatever absolute hell you experienced in the warehouse. 

You pressed your memory for details, but came up empty. Your captors must have drugged you, because you couldn't remember much about the experience. 

All you could remember was poignant, all-encompassing fear. 

It was at that point that your lungs decided to heave, leaving you coughing and wheezing. You hacked into your elbow, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Once the coughing fit had subsided, you groaned weakly and laid your head back down. It was pounding and felt tight as you struggled to breathe once more. You cursed under your breath as your body recovered. 

“You’re awake.” The voice was distinctly male in timbre, and came from your bedside. You opened your eyes to look at the Riddler. 

You had been locked up when he first made his debut, so you had never seen his mugshot or likeness on television. He was surprisingly normal looking, as far as Batman villains went. His face was sharp and angular, and incredibly thin. He was almost gaunt, how thin he was. His deep green eyes were sunken and framed with dark rims that betrayed his sleeping patterns. He had on a pair of wire frame glasses and green tee paired with blue jeans. 

You watched him wipe his hands on his jeans, then fist and unfist them. 

You remembered that he had spoken, and cleared your throat to respond. 

“Unfortunately.”

The Riddler visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping in. “Yes, well I am not quite sure what they were pumping into your system, but it shouldn’t have any lasting effects.”

And that confirmed it. There was a certain degree of revulsion that you felt, clear violation accompanying it. 

“Can you tell me what it was? I assume it was gaseous from your frequent coughing.”

Thinking about the fear made your blood turn to ice. A creeping sense of dread filled your stomach as you focused on the fuzzy memory. 

Resolutely, you decided not to press the memory any further, and instead, changed the subject. 

You frowned. “Why did you come for me?”

The Riddler blinked at you. “I- what?”

“Why? I don’t understand.” You pushed yourself onto your elbows so that you could have a proper discussion with him, fighting off the nausea and dizziness accompanying the movement. “Why come for me? I hear how you talk about those goons, they’re replaceable. Why come for me?”

The Riddler raised an eyebrow. “That should be obvious. You are not replaceable.”

“I am sure you could find another girl to solve your riddles,” you huffed. “Have her run all over Wonder City collecting prizes.”

The Riddler just looked at you. He tilted his head slightly, opened his mouth, then closed it. 

“What?” You sighed, which in turn caused you to fall into another coughing fit. You heard the Riddler get up from his chair and walk away. He was able to leave and come back before the coughing subsided. 

When you looked up, he had an inhaler held out to you. 

“Where did you get that?”

“Take it,” he reached out and put it in your hands. “It’ll make it better.” 

You looked down at the inhaler skeptically. 

The Riddler heaved a large sigh. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now.”

“There are other terrible things you could do to me,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

The Riddler rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to do any of that, I also already would have. Just take it. Do you know how?” 

You lowered your gaze in defeat and brought the inhaler to your lips. It took two tries, but you were able to breathe in a good amount of the aerosol. 

Once done, you held it back out to him. He took it and stood up again. 

“To answer your previous question,” he said as he walked out of the small room and into a larger living area. “There are no other girls, save the big names. You are the only female from Blackgate to be directly transferred here.”

Your breath stuttered at that. “Why?”

“That is what I would like to know,” he said as he returned. He sat back down beside you and studied you. “You are quite the intriguing puzzle.”

You managed a small smile. “Puzzle seems better than toy.”

The Riddler pursed his lips. “I suppose, but it's all semantics in the end.”

“Right,” you nodded. You looked around the room. It looked like the Riddler lived out of this sole room. A computer set up was tucked away in the adjacent corner, a dresser in the far corner, and a closet with no doors. You eyed the fresh clothes. “Do you have a shower?”

“Yes, but there is no hot water.”

You nodded. “Can I take one?” You didn’t know how long it had been since you had taken a shower and you yearned for one. 

“Yes, you can shower.” The Riddler shrugged and stood up, presumably to gather materials for it. 

You swung your legs out off the bed and tried to stand. You were able to, as long as you kept your breathing steady. Your head was buzzing and seemed disconnected from your body. 

The dizziness soon faded, and you made your way to one of the two doors connected to the room. 

The first led out to the main living area of the apartment. There was a large space, cluttered with boxes and machinery. A kitchenette was tucked into the far corner and a thick, sturdy door sat beside it. The whole place was seemingly normal, save a few oddities. The windows were blacked out with black paint, there were hasty scribbles and papers pinned up all around the apartment walls, and the apartment was eerily devoid of furniture. 

You made your way to the second door, the one the Riddler had disappeared into, and saw it was the master bathroom. 

You ducked into the bathroom behind him. He quickly pointed out the main features and explained the trick to turning on the water. 

“Do you have clothes I can change into?” 

The Riddler seemed to stall, pausing as he thought. “Um, I have my clothes?”

“That’ll have to do.” 

You would have preferred to wear the jackets he had gifted you along with a pair of sweats, but your jackets were dirty and gross. They needed to be washed. 

The Riddler nodded and excused himself. You waited in the bathroom until he returned with a pair of sweatpants and a green shirt. You took them carefully, pointedly avoiding touching him. 

He nodded and turned to leave, but you stopped him.

“I assume I am not leaving anytime soon?” You phrased it as a question, but you knew the answer. 

The Riddler gave you a small smile. “Where would you go?”

You nodded. “Right.”

The Riddler left the bathroom and closed the door behind him. 

You locked it for good measure, but you highly doubted that would do much. 

Then you proceeded to take the coldest shower of your life. 

?

Edward wasn't sure what he was doing. There was a degree of separation between him and the woman before this. Plausible deniability. He didn't have to admit that he was… well, Edward didn't know what word described his connection with the woman, but he did know he didn't have to confront it taking her back to his base. 

She was attractive, sure, but Edward wouldn't describe the draw as lustful in nature. It was something more. It was almost as if he was trapped in her orbit, a magnetic pull keeping him close enough to remain interested yet far enough to stay out of reach. 

But he couldn’t send her back out there, not after he had almost lost her. That was unthinkable. He still didn’t know how she had killed two men. The case was most definitely brushed under the rug, as he couldn’t find any records of it making the news or tabloids. Which was odd, because she came from an affluent family in Gotham, and so did her husband. It would have been quite the scandal. 

So why wasn’t it in the papers?

Edward knew deep down that was not why he was keeping her, that something far more sinister was brewing in his heart. But for now, while the mystery remained unsolved he could convince himself otherwise. 

There was just something bothering him about her second murder victim, her husband. Thomas Black. He had heard that name before somewhere, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Where had he heard that name before? Something was off about this whole situation, and Edward was going to get to the bottom of it. 

?

The Riddler’s living situation was a new level of spartan. He survived on a practically identical diet that you had before coming here. 

To top it all off, he was always in the master bedroom on his computer. He always left the door open, so you could see his fanciful setup, and so that you could use the only bed to sleep. He had four monitors and all of them were all doing multiple things. He was always working, and so far you hadn’t seen him sleep at all. 

A small part of you was glad for that, the fact that there was only one bed weighed heavily on you. 

It took a full 24 hours before you grew too bored to handle. You were a busy body, and always had been. Even in prison, you had participated in every program and learning opportunity. You were not one to sit and waste away. 

You started light cleaning at first. You had been able to find some cleaning supplies tucked away in a closet. Just a couple of rags and a few sprays that smelled clean enough, but you were grateful. 

You did your best to clean around the scattered papers, deciding moving them would be against your best interests. You were cohabiting with a psychotic serial killer, but then again, what else was new?

You were attacking the kitchen, scrubbing the counter, when you saw the Riddler exit his room. He paused when his eyes landed on you, head tilting to the side. It was almost endearing. 

“What are you doing?” He frowned and folded his arms. 

“Cleaning,” you shrugged. 

“Why?”

“Well, I am bored and there’s not much else to do, is there?”

The Riddler opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it. He shook his head and unfolded his arms, shoving them in his pockets. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

“At least when I was out there, I wasn’t bored to death.”

“Would you rather leave?” The Riddler raised an eyebrow. 

“No, of course not,” you shuddered. “I don’t have to stave off literal death here, just the death of my last brain cells. Which I guess isn’t the worst thing that could happen.”

“Oh…” The Riddler said the word softly, as if he had just realized something. “I-” He bit his lip and looked away. “Nevermind. Continue with your meaningless grunt work, I have more important things to do.”

“Right,” you smiled softly. “Of course, Riddler.”

“Right,” he echoed. He stood still for a moment longer, opened and closed his mouth, then settled on one word: “Edward.”

You blinked, confused. 

He cleared his throat. “Edward Nygma. Tha-thats my name. Edward.”

A smile crept its way onto your face. “Edward,” you repeated. 

He nodded, stiff and jerky. Then he spun on his heel and disappeared into his room. 

You shook your head and set back to work.