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The silence seemed deafening, everything felt deafening, Riddler was sitting in a chair, in a body he knew wasn’t his but had to be. In an asylum with crazy people and people too stupid to not be trusted to shit themselves. He was sitting in front of a medical professional he knew almost nothing about, he only knew him from another session where this doctor had completely ripped him open and blew his cover and poked and prodded in his brain, luckily not literally. The guy seemed probably incapable of picking up a scalpel and being able to do some kind of poking and prodding in his brain without tearing a nerve and killing all of them completely, at least with the shaky hands that Riddler saw against the paper.
He didn’t much regret being sent to this session by Harley because he had decided to go against the rules and flip one of the tables by unhooking the bars keeping the tables down for easy put away, pushing up the table and trying to crush someone under it got him put in isolation. He just got angry, they had the gall to disrespect him and his name and act like they’re any better than him when they got put in this place for chewing their left thumb off. His teeth ground against each other just thinking about it, it wasn’t fair at all. Shouldn’t he have been put somewhere cooler at least? Not sitting in a lunch hall with someone crying over killing their mother, it was their own fault anyway. Edward didn’t kill Kristen on purpose, Riddler knew that much, he just got caught when he was looking for the body, that was the only flaw of it. The only flaw of it was what Riddler had done, but he’d never say that, never admit it in a million years, he’d pretend it was. A joint decision and that Edward wanted it to happen for the sake of saving his own tendencies of self loathing, he’d save himself the pain rather than anyone else and that made more sense to him than anything ever would in his life. Himself first, he’d never been first, not even the first to be pulled into existence by a sad lonely little boy who no one ever thought to love. No one ever thought to mourn the loss of that little boy’s mind, nobody ever thought to show concern, so why should he? He was doing what was best for Edward, having him realise what he was and he couldn’t do much of that in these padded walls.
The click of a pen, the way the top pierced the surrounding protector, that’s what snapped Riddler out of his monologue.
“Are you here with me right now?”
Riddler rolled his eyes and looked away, what a stupid question, he’s always there, even when he’s not seen, he’s always there, of course he was there, Oswald crooked an eyebrow up, disamusement. But why should he care about what this doctor thinks? He was just someone hired to do this job, no morality or care behind it, probably didn’t even like the job or the patients, and it was true, Oswald didn’t like the patients. But he loved the job. He loved the feeling that filled him when he plopped down potential disorders, the feeling of coordination and diagnosing and fixing. The pride that came with it, but the faux caring wasn’t something he enjoyed, Edward and his mind were different, this patient gave him something nobody else had before. Not just entertainment, but connection. Like flames, the feeling to jump into the centre and be engulfed was intoxicating, thrilling and dangerous.
“I’ll assume..” A huff out of the respective, Oswald wanted to roll his eyes and ask what his problem was but that was less than professional and not the way he talks to patients, not the way he trains them and gets them to do what he needs them to.
“Did you have something to say, Riddler?”
“Not really.”
“Alright, if there’s no further more of that silent complaining and huffing, I’ll start us off.” Riddler bit his tongue, he could feel the passive aggression and part of it felt good and the other half stung in an unfamiliar way.
“Says here that.. you tried to ‘squish another patient to death’ in your own words.”
“Forgot I worded it like that, but he deserved it.”
Oswald let out a snicker to his response, he quickly composed himself and put a hand over his mouth to act as if it were a cough, for someone who prides himself in noticing everything, it was a little odd that Riddler didn’t notice that he hadn’t actually coughed and was laughing at him.
“How did he deserve it? Can you explain the confrontation to me and what it led to?”
“Well, stupid Mandy over there decided he’d have a grand old time if he made fun of someone who’s about ten times smarter and more capable than him, decided that it would be funny to make fun of me. So I got up, and you know this part, I hooked that, stupidly unguarded by the way, support system and I lifted that table up and I made sure he got another traumatic brain injury.”
Oswald seemed a little unimpressed with Riddler’s gloating but at least he’d explained himself in a semi-modest way, leaving out the fact he’d harmed three other people and the fact he’d knocked out a couple of teeth and broken a couple of noses and was currently sitting in, reasonably put on, handcuffs.
“Yes I see that, I can get how you’d be.. a little upset.”
“Please cut this professional doctor bullshit with me.”
Oswald pinched his nose as he looked at Riddler’s smug look as he said that, Oswald was a psychiatrist after all, was he expected to not use vocabulary that matched his profession in showing that he was responsible enough to detect and diagnose.
“I will be more colloquial with you if it makes you feel more comfortable but just, mind your manners, I didn’t do a whole shit ton of work to be talked to like I’m a clueless smartass teenager by you.”
“Did you just swear at me?”
Oswald snapped his fingers in front of Riddler’s face and looked at him with a disapproving look while Riddler seemed at least a little more than happy that he’d gotten a doctor like Oswald to lose it at least a little.
“I swore in response to you, I was not rude or disrespectful, as you should be with me.”
“Okay but.. you were.”
The pen kept clicking as Oswald got more and more agitated with him.
“Okay let’s just.. nevermind that, now what do you want to do going forward, maybe put something in place that makes sure you won’t get made fun of again?”
“So glad you asked so I was planning to-”
Riddler began making breaking and then stabbing motions as best as he could in handcuffs to Oswald’s dismay.
“As much of a bummer it would be, I cannot allow that, maybe we could give you an alias or different name to go by here so you no longer get made fun of.”
That was a little more than a blow to his ego, even Oswald thought that his name was ridiculous when he, in fact, loved his name, more than dancing ribbons and the gorey fantasies of admiration he had late in night.
“A different name? Okay and what would this different name be then?”
“I’ll think of some, wait a second, sweetheart.”
The pet-name soothed him a little, while he definitely wasn’t sweet nor did he consider himself to have a heart, which was quite the opposite in reality, he liked being complimented, especially by someone who’s analysing him so carefully, of course they’d see how great he was.
“Now I am not the best at this, wouldn’t say I’m bad but I’ve never had to name someone, definitely not anyone who’s ever come close to being anything like you or what you’ll come to be, but I was thinking. Something close to your old name would be more ideal, how about Rye? Similar ring to Riddler I’d hope.”
That bewildered him a little, Rye?
“Like the bread.”
“I suppose, but it is a name too. In Gaelic, it means ‘king’. In Polish, it means a cavalryman or a messenger. I’m not sure about any other language.”
He thought for a moment, Rye thought for a moment. He liked it, but it sounded bland for him, it didn’t sound special, it sounded like he could walk into a room and have a thousand other people named Rye come up to him. The truth of it is that he is, there are a thousand other people exactly like him, he will never be as special as he thinks he is but he is special in the way he came to be, the way he will continue to be until he isn’t anymore.
“Sounds bland.”
“But do you like it?”
Rye bit his tongue at that, he did like it, he liked it a lot. He liked Oswald a lot, the praise, the somewhat understanding. He tried to distract himself by looking down at Oswald’s leg, mangled and a mush of sinew and bone, or at least that’s what Rye viewed it as, he focused on the cane Oswald had brought with him, scratches and imperfections around the handle and the messily glued on cushioning for glide at the bottom but Oswald probably wouldn’t have it any other way, it worked for him at least.
“I do.”
“Would you like me to put on your file?”
The room seemed to burn still, it felt so silent in the way the air seemed to stop blowing, the fan seemed to have no effect despite rotating and blowing a gust of cold air onto Rye’s face, his own file. He thought that Oswald just had two for more important information. That was his own file, for him. He wasn’t some extension of Edward or just Edward himself, he was Rye. At least to him he was. He was Rye.
“Are you okay?”
“Can I see it?”
“Would you like to?”
Rye nodded as he put his arms forward, trying to reach for the file before the chains snapped against the limiting bar on the desk, bounding his handcuffs in place. Oswald fussed over it a little and muttered out an apology as he bent over a little, making sure not to twist his leg as he ruffled through his under desk drawers to fumble and find a little key with mold and dust caking the small surface of the ridges, Oswald seemed to cringe and want to puke at that little bit of it but Rye’s mind was focused on seeing the file made for him. Only him, no Edward. Nobody else listed. Just him. His own person, that’s what he was listed as.
“Now I’m only doing this because I know you’ll be sensible, won’t you?” Rye rolled his eyes a little and Oswald smiled that smile at him, one that could make him melt into the floorboards, the only genuine thing in the unbearingly close walls of his office, not those pictures on his desk of people Rye has never seen before, not those papers full of other people’s information that he couldn’t care less about, just Oswald. Just Oswald and him in that room, like the world was burning down around him and the room was fireproof.
“I’ll be good, Miss Teacher.”
Oswald bit his lip a little at that and scowled a little, Rye forgot about the trans status of his doctor, not that he cared that much either way, but he knew that would have at least a little stain on his less than charming record.
“Totes forgot, ya gots to forgive me babes.”
A chuckle was what Rye got from talking like an over-zealous teenager over the phone, he knew that would tickle something inside his psychiatrist, he’d heard Oswald make a joke like that before with Harleen, one of his closest work friends.
“Don’t worry, I’m so far in, sometimes I forget about it too.”
The handcuffs were undone and the redness around Rye’s wrists felt almost unbearable but he’d power through it, after all, he’d felt much worse than a little cuff-burn. Oswald went through a few files in an arched file organiser on the desk, he pulled out an actual file, not a page inside one, a file all for Rye.
“Here you go, I haven’t got much because I’ve just met you but you can read over it if you’d like.”
His hands were almost going to tremble when he saw Oswald’s hand reach out to give it, some kind of intimacy about being named and given his sense of self by this man hit him, his head felt light and his hands felt like they were holding something made of pure gold.
“Thanks, can’t wait to see the dirt you guys have of me.”
Another laugh was exactly what Rye needed, it made him feel like he was on a roll, no grievances in the psychiatrist’s office. Of course other people would give him the attitude and the anger, but he would just be driven right back to Oswald, Oswald would get it.
He’d laugh at his jokes, solve his riddles and send him back off to his room and he’d leave walking on his own two feet with his mind spinning with the odd feeling of connection with someone he was sure he’d had, Oswald was like him. Oswald liked him as well.
“Don’t worry, nothing that bad yet, but I’ll make sure to note down every little rude thing you say to me now.”
Rye scoffed at that, he opened the file and looked at the picture, the same as Edward’s, he was fine with that at least, it was his body too, that’s what he looked like too, they wouldn’t be able to get him for a picture anyway. Especially not looking as pathetic as that. His name read as “The Riddler” in big bold letters at the top, he liked that, sure maybe it wasn’t his name anymore but he’d still sure as hell go by it. ‘Patient profile’ and then the listing of all of his and Edward’s physical attributes weren’t what he was looking for, he was looking for behaviours, which he found after ‘reason of admission’. ‘DID/OSSD spectrum (not enough data for proper diagnosis), Narcissistic personality traits, shows signs of covert and malignant, borderline traits shown in Edward are not shown in The Riddler. Overall social, not friendly majority of time. More therapy sessions with Dr. Cobblepot will be needed to get a proper diagnosis.’ That was insightful, accurate, Rye wasn’t too happy about the diagnosis criteria he was getting but he was happy that he was getting any.
“Never thought I’d be labelled as a narcissist, not even a smidge of my intelligence labelled down I see.”
“Not even a mention, anyone that meets you will figure that out themselves.”
A gasp, not fully serious but not joking either, Oswald chuckled in response as he took the file back and plopped it back in it’s place, Rye felt fulfilled.
More than ever.