Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There are a lot of things that Edward Nygma doesn’t understand. Of course, he’s smart, gifted even. He has a photographic memory, he excels in academics, a prodigy— His third-grade teacher would say. But despite seemingly knowing it all, he can’t seem to understand himself.

Or humans in general.

Mostly his GCPD co-workers.

He hates how they bat an eye at him as if he was some kind of alien. Weird, A freak, abnormal. He hates their eyes on him, their whispers that he could hear as if it was intentional as if they want him to hear it.

Despite all of this, he tries, he really did try to ignore it. He puts on a smile and assists anyone who needs him. Was it unhealthy? Yes— But he rather work than worry about some minor inconvenience. And everything was fine.

Right?

The sound of the alarm clocks chirped into his ears making Ed jump up to life, his hands clutching the mattress of his bed, his breath was… shaky. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes before getting out of bed.

To say that everything has been going down the hill would be correct. He hates how he’s starting to wake up with a shaky breath, and sweaty body when all he had to do was tell himself that it was a dream. A dream that he used to have all those years ago when he was a scared little boy.

Pathetic and Small.

He’s not that child anymore. He can't let his nightmare affect him.

He walks into his bathroom and looks at the mirror just to see a familiar face. It’s him. His eye bags might’ve gotten worse, and though it does bother him He still has work to do.

Everything was fine.

Ed let out a sigh before preparing for whatever would happen in the chaotic department that he works at.

He usually arrived at GCPD early. It was one of his habits that stuck with him since he was a kid— He greeted the officers there with a bright smile, or at least as bright as he could be. At that moment, he spotted a familiar face. The detective was Harvey Bullock’s partner. Ed then walks toward the man.

“Good morning, detective.” He said with a small smile. The detective snapped his head to see the man in front of him.

“Ed.” He greeted, voice gruff and monotone.

Jim Gordon. He was one of the riddles that Ed can’t quite figure out. A tough, gruff, and serious detective but somehow kinder than half of the GCPD. God, probably kinder than everyone in GCPD, was his gruff personality just a facade? Was he actually as kind as Ed’s mind painted The detective to be? He doesn’t know.

All Ed knew was that Jim was the only one who answered his riddles, and that was enough for him to admire the detective.

Oh, how that sounds so pathetic.

“You alright, Ed?” The other man asked, which made Ed snap back to reality. He blinked and shook his head with a sheepish smile.

“Ah…” He let out a dry chuckle. “Right as rain, detective!” He puts on a smile and nods reassuringly.

“You sure?” Jim raised an eyebrow, he seemed as if he was trying to analyze Ed. He hated that feeling.

Ed paused for a moment. His brain tells him to just lie, just lie and lie and lie like he always does, but oh, how Jim was one of the first people to ask him that simple question in decades makes his lips feel so weak.

Before he could decide what to say, A voice boomed in.

“Jim!” Both of the men turn their heads to see Harvey Bullock on the other side of the room, looking at some new report files. “Holy shit— can you help me with this? I can’t see crap!” The oldest man of the three exclaimed with annoyance. Ed glanced to see Jim who rolled his eyes, he couldn’t deny that that was quite funny.

“Coming!” Jim said, before turning his attention back to Ed. “...If there was a problem, you could tell me, okay?” The man said.

Ed smiled at how warm the words felt to him.

“Roger that, detective.” He smiles.

Jim nods his head before making his way to Bullock. Ed himself then turns his attention back to walking to his lab.

He closed the door when he entered the lab, leaning his back to rest against it, and let out another sigh.

It’s just another day.

“Seriously, Harv? You can’t read this?” Jim said, his tone unimpressed as he looked through the files that Harvey was supposed to read.

“I’m in my 40’s, gimme a break, Jim.” Harvey quipped. “Besides, I forgot my glasses.”

“Old age is really hitting you hard, huh?” Jim snorted, his eyes running through the words on the papers.

“Well, at least I’m still alive.” Harvey humored. “You gon’ miss me when I’m gone, boy scout.”

“Uh-huh,” Jim said dryly. Right, as if he was going to admit it. He paused for a moment before turning his head to Harvey.

“I have a question,” Jim said.

“Shoot.”

“You think something’s up with Ed?” He asked.

He can’t deny it. Lately, he has been noticing that the forensics was acting off. He was less energetic, which other officers may see as something good, but not with Jim. Something was bothering the forensic scientist, and he wanted to know what it was.

Call him stubborn, sure, he has always been stubborn since he was a young stupid child. But he wanted to know if something was wrong with the man— and at least do something to help, because all the GCPD had done to Nygma was just unkind.

The man was eccentric, sure, but all he wanted was just to help, hell, he was more helpful than most of the officers in GCPD anyway.

“Isn't something always up with the guy?” Harvey snarked.

“Not like that.” Jim rolled his eyes, sometimes Harvey’s remark on the forensic scientist can be mean. “I don’t know, feel like… I should talk to him or something.” He mumbled.

“You’re such a softie.” Harvey grinned.

“Just being kind, Harv.” Jim sighs. “It’s not gonna kill you.”

“You would be surprised,” Harvey said playfully, making Jim raise an eyebrow at him, before shaking his head. He doesn’t want to hear another wacky-crazy story Harvey probably has.

After dealing with the report files, both of the detectives continued their day. There were murder cases, because of course, why wouldn’t there be? In a city that’s messed up like Gotham, Jim doesn’t know if he can keep up with the pace, he feels as if he needs a break but he knows that could not happen, not right now. When the city still needed someone to help them.

Near the end of his shift, he felt like a small boulder was lifted off of his shoulder, at least everything will be fine for at least 8 hours before he dumps himself into the chaos once again.

He could go home right now, and slump himself into his couch and maybe even get himself a drink, but for some reason, he hesitated.

He looked at the forensic lab and rewound the conversation he had with Ed, and how he tells himself that maybe something was wrong.

And so the need to satisfy his savior complex tells him to go and check on Nygma.

He knocked on the door, waiting for permission to be let in.

“Come in!” The scientist's voice boomed from the inside, and Jim opened the door.

Nygma was… carefully removing onions from his Chinese takeout, and was more focused on that rather than Jim even.

“Hey, Ed.” Jim greeted, prompting Nygma to look up, at first he could see annoyance which melted away to something different instead— Jim couldn’t really put a finger on what it was.

“Detective,” Ed said with a smile that quiet didn’t reach the corner of his eyes, but still looked so eager. “Could I uh… help you with anything?” He asked.

“Nah, I’m done for today.” Jim shook his head, feeling slightly awkward at the situation he put himself in, he looked away from Ed’s direction.

“Just want to uh— check in on you.” He clarified.

There was a moment of silence where Ed was probably staring at him, trying to figure out why he was here.

“That’s… very nice of you, detective, but I can assure you that I am fine.” Ed’s voice was soft but also sounded so tired.

“Yeah, I would disagree,'' Jim said, turning his face back toward Ed who now had a frown on his face. “You have eyebags y’know.”

“I—” Ed stuttered over his words, his face looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “It’s from lack of sleep of course, but it is nothing big.”

“Are you sure?” Jim asked. He knows that boundaries are an important thing, but if he didn’t push Ed right now— Who knows what could have happened? “You can tell me if something is wrong… I consider you a friend.” He said the last words so softly, not knowing if it was from embarrassment or something else.

He decided to look at Nygma again. The forensic scientist glanced at Jim for a moment before looking away, mumbling something to himself that Jim could hardly make out.

“It— it’s just…” A moment of hesitation. “Lately… things have not been going too well.” He said, face down looking at the Chinese takeout that is probably cold by now. “It— It is fine, I swear— just…” Nygma’s words fell off of his lips.

Jim waited, waiting for the other man to be ready. For some reason, he doesn’t like it when the forensic scientist who seems to be so excited about almost everything is sad.

It just feels wrong.

“...Sometimes I hate it here,” Ed said softly as if he was going to offend anyone. “I love my job, don’t get me wrong. I love doing forensic work.”

“But..?” Jim offered.

“But people here are… hard to understand, and some are just… rotten.” He finished his sentence. “It is stupid, I know— You probably have more important things to do, I don’t know why you are listening to me right now.” The other man begins to ramble nervously and shakes his head.

“Everyone deserves to be heard, Ed,” Jim answered, and Nygma looked at him with such astonishment in his eyes, like he was some kind of grand puzzle that the scientist wanted to solve so badly. “I don’t think… I fully understand your problem, but I can agree that some people are shit. And if those people are shit to you, tell me.” He offered, and Ed’s eyes widened.

“Detective, I don’t—” He started

“Please.” He added a plea, which stopped Ed entirely. “I’m sorry that that happened to you when all you do is just being helpful.”

“Some people wouldn’t agree that I am helpful.” He mumbled. “A Lot of people actually.” He corrected himself.

“Well, they are wrong.” Jim quipped.

“They aren’t,” Ed said almost coldly.

Jim stopped for a moment, trying to choose his words wisely because all he knows is that He could easily just mess up the conversation, and even make Nygma mad.

“You are a very smart man, Ed.” He started. “And you are… important to GCPD. If someone disagrees, they are stupid.” He shrugs.

“I don’t think…”

“Would you say that a man who denied help from you, a very intelligent man, is stupid?” He quipped with a small smirk on his face.

Ed went quiet for a moment, before letting out a small smile.

“Well,” He snickered. “Maybe…”

“Exactly.” Jim clapped a hand against Ed’s back gently. “You’re a good man, Ed. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He looks at the taller man, he has a frown on his face, and he opens his mouth, as if he is about to retort but closes it once again.

“What is the breath of the wind, with the weight of a mountain?” He blurted out instead.

Jim always finds this side of Ed interesting, the side that needs to view everything as a puzzle to solve, the side that can be seen as childish, but to Jim, it was… fascinating. He thought for a moment and tilted his head.

“Words?” Jim asked.

Nygma beamed at Jim's answer. He concluded that he had gotten it correctly for Nygma looked so happy, and excited, his smiles even reaching the corner of his eyes.

A real smile from the other man.

Because of Jim.

He doesn’t know why— but that thought does make Jim feel needed.

Needed not for his bravery, not for his detective persona, just for being him. Just for having a casual conversation.

“Yes.” Nygma smiled. “Words can affect people in many ways, detective. Thank you for your kind words.”

Jim smiled back and nodded his head.

“Course.” He said. “Talk to me anytime, yeah?”

“...Anytime.” With hesitation, the taller man repeated.

A moment of silence between the two once again, Jim decided that he perhaps should leave Ed alone to his thoughts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ed.” He said, walking toward the door.

“I will see you tomorrow as well, Detective,” Ed answered, the other man seemed to feel better, his voice slightly more confident. Even if it was just for the night, It does make Jim feel like he had done something right.

“And one thing. Ed?” Jim blurted out, before leaving the room.

“Yes?” The scientist tilted his head.

“Call me Jim, Okay?” He said, his eyes slightly pleading.

Ed paused for a moment before another soft smile formed on his face.

“Jim,” Ed said.

Ed said, as if he was testing the sound of it, how it sounded from his voice.

And Jim was satisfied.

“See you, Ed.” He said, trying to contain his smile but failing.

“See you later, Jim,” Ed said again, and with that, Jim was gone.

He hoped that he had done the right thing.

Chapter Text

Last night was unexpected.

He didn't expect to comfort a co-worker of his. It felt weird to Jim. He was not someone who was good at this, but with Ed somehow, it felt so easy and so… nice.

It felt nice to know that Ed was feeling better because of him.

His mind ran through the conversation between him and Ed from last night, as he looked at the hot coffee cups he bought this morning on his desk.

“Are you going to drink that?” Harvey’s voice chipped in, making Jim snap out of the thought.

“Yes, Harvey,” Jim said, sighing. He lifts the cup up and sips it.

“Shame, I spat in the coffee when you weren’t watching.” Despite Harvey saying it so casually, Jim almost choked, which made Harvey, who was sitting at his desk across from Jim, burst into laughter. “Calm down, just messing with you,” he snickered.

“You aren’t funny,” Jim quipped.

“Yeah, between you and me, Jimbo? I am the funny one,” Harvey said smugly, and Jim fought the urge to roll his eyes at the other man again. “But seriously… you okay?”

The question makes Jim freeze and look at Harvey with a more serious demeanor.

“What do you mean?” Jim asked.

“Everyone could tell that you are lost in thoughts from miles away.” Harvey pointed out, which, yes— he may be correct.

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

Harvey’s right. God— he hates when Harvey’s right. Jim pursed his lips, maybe it’s a good time to bring up the topic to Harvey.

“What do you think of Ed?” Jim asked, his eyes carefully looking at the older man.

Harvey raised an eyebrow at Jim, clearly confused as to why he was asking Harvey that question. The older man tilts his head.

“Why?” he asked. “Is this about yesterday?”

“Just answer the question, Harv,” Jim said, folding his arms together.

“Fine, fine,” Harvey lifted both of his arms up, signifying defeat. “He’s kinda… y’know.”

“No, I don’t,” Jim answered sharply, his voice hinting in a tone of irritation.

Harvey paused for a moment and let out a sigh, the man folded his arms and closed his eyes.

“Okay, fine. He’s weird,” he said. “Never really get his riddles too.” Harvey shrugged.

“He’s trying his best, you know that right?” Jim pointed out.

“You’re too kind to people, Jim,” Harvey mumbled.

“Yeah— because they deserve to be treated like humans, Harvey.” Jim shot a look at Harvey, and the older detective looked back at him with a small surprise on his face.

“Just try to be nice to him,” Jim grumbled. “Get that stick out of your ass for me.”

Harvey went quiet for a moment, he looked at Jim and blinked several times. Sometimes, Jim really wanted to know what was going through the other man’s head.

“Fine,” Harvey said finally, his demeanor changed from playful to serious. “Shouting at the kid is not good for my blood pleasure anyway.” He said before stuffing a donut inside his mouth.

“Good.” Jim hummed in satisfaction.

At least he got to talk some sense into Harvey, which is good, but it still doesn’t feel enough— Jim could feel Harvey going back to being grumpy at Ed in another week or so from the workplace stress the other man has.

As if someone snapped the idea into Jim’s head. He quickly blurted out a plan.

“We should go get a drink after work,” he said. “And bring Ed, too.”

He watched as Harvey choked on the doughnut he was eating, which almost made Jim laugh at how comedic it was.

“You want to bring the guy there?” Harvey asked for clarification.

“Why not?” he shrugs. “Besides, I think the three of us could use a break anyway.”

“Does he even like drinking?” Harvey squints his eyes at him, probably thinking how unbelievable this whole thing is.

“Well… I don’t know,” Jim frowned. Come to think of it— there are a lot of things that he doesn’t know about Ed. He knows the man likes all things mysterious, he remembers once that Ed said that he likes video games, but outside of that, he doesn’t know a thing.

So maybe this will be a great opportunity to get to know the forensic scientist.

“C’mon, Harv. It will be a good opportunity to get to know him,” Jim said, making Harvey let out a groan and a sigh.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Harvey said, defeated. “And I’ll be nice. Just for you, boy scout,” he added.

“Feel very honored, Harv,” Jim said dryly, with an unamused smile.

“You should be.” Harvey snorted.

Ed’s easily distracted— this has always been a trait of his since he was a child, so it’s no surprise to him when he looks up at the clock in his lab to see that it is way past his shift, and he has been way too focus on his report on the blood sample of the latest case.

“Crap,” Ed muttered to himself and let out a sigh. Absolutely delightful. Keeping himself distracted from his negative thoughts with work was a good idea at first. He supposed he was wrong.

Not that he would admit that out loud.

Ed was about to clear his desk up so he could go back home, but then he heard a knock at the door followed by a voice calling his name.

Ed knows that voice. That’s Jim.

“Det— Jim! Come in,” he shouted. Ed looks as Jim comes into the room, the detective's hands are in his pockets, with a casual demeanor on his face. Well, at least he’s attempting to look casual.

“Ed, hi,” he greeted.

“Jim,” Ed greeted back with a small smile, before he could ask what Jim wanted, the other man cut him first.

“Harvey and I are going out for a drink. Do you wanna come with us?” Jim blurted out.

Ed looked at Jim in surprise, The man’s kindness never failed to amuse him.

“O— Oh!” he exclaimed. “Thank you, but I don’t… really drink, Jim,” Ed said with a small sheepish smile. He could order non-alcoholic drinks, of course, but the thought of going out made him nervous. Not only did he have to worry about the loud drunken noise at the bar, but he and Detective Bullock weren't exactly friends. Co-workers, maybe, But Ed had a feeling that the detective only tolerated him.

“You could order something else, I’m sure.” Jim seems to not want to give up on the idea. His eyes are playful but pleading all at the same time. “Please? I told Harvey to be nice. And you need a break.” The detective leans in next to Ed and bends over to rest his arms on the desk.

Ed pursed his lips, his fingers tapping the desk, on one hand, perhaps this could be a break from his work, and from himself. Just relax in a bar, trying to forget his problems. On the other hand, it could turn into a total mess, thanks to his social skills.

He should have said no, but the voice back in his mind betrayed him. He shut his mouth and nodded his head.

“Okay, I suppose… I could use a break. Just let me finish with this first, it will only take a minute,” Ed said, referring to his messy desk.

Jim smiled at him in response.

“Great. I will see you outside, yeah?” he asked for reassurance.

“Yes,” he confirmed, and Jim left the room.

Oh, what’s he gotten himself into?

Ed quickly packed his stuff and rushed to the exit of the precinct to meet the two men waiting for him.

“Detective Bullock, hi,” he said with a small smile. The older man then gave him a small wave. “So which bar are we going to, to be exact?” he asked.

“I know one nearby,” Jim answered. “Not so far from here, so we could probably just walk.”

“Lead the way,” Ed nods his head.

The three men started walking to their destination, it was… quiet. Ed doesn't really know what to say, he feels like he could blurt out a riddle at any moment and that would be a bad idea— not now.

The thing he worried the most was not the bar, no. He found himself to be worried more about his social interaction, knowing he could ruin this because of how his brain works.

He imagines the worst, the two detectives look at him with those same eyes people like to give him. As if he was a freak.

Abnormal.

It makes him curl his hands into a fist, the thought of people looking at him that way, the thought of Jim looking at him that way.

The thought of his…

No, he can't think about that man right now. That man has been dead to him for so many years.

He can't think about that man when he's going to relax in a bar and forgets his problems.

Ed took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

This is going to be fine.

They arrived at the bar not long after, and both of the detectives ordered beers.

Ed ordered a Shirley temple, hoping the sweetness could calm him down.

Many studies would show that sweets can help improve mood, and reduce stress.

An excuse he would use since he was a child with a sweet tooth.

“You don't drink?” Detective Bullock asked.

Ed perked up at the question, he was hoping that no one would bring that up.

“Oh, no, I do not drink,” he said with a sheepish smile.

He expected more questions but Detective Bullock just let out a chuckle.

“Told you he doesn't drink,” he hummed and sipped his beer, and Jim let out a small groan. It doesn't sound mocking to him, more in a friendly way.

Weird.

“How would I know?” Jim muttered.

“Should have placed a bet on that.” Harvey snorted.

“Uh— please don’t?” Ed added with a dry laugh.

“We could share the money.” Harvey jokes.

“Leave him alone, Harvey.” Jim chimed in.

And in that moment, Ed felt lighter. As if the weight of negative thoughts he has was lifted. He doesn't know how much this feeling will last, but oh, he will enjoy every single moment of it.

Ed shot a glance up to see that the TV the bar had was playing a rerun of Jeopardy!

“Ooh, Jeopardy,” he said with delight. He always liked Jeopardy, not only because the shows offer a wide range of knowledge, but it’s also a great way to stimulate his brain— not to mention that he almost gets every question right.

Almost.

“Among the elements named after people is Roentgenium, in honor of Wilhelm Röntgen who discovered these imaging rays,” the host said.

“X-rays,” Ed blurted out as if he had the answer written in his head for a long time already.

Ed beamed in satisfaction when the host said that the answer ‘X-rays’ was the correct answer.

“And how did you know that?” Harvey asked, clearly amused at Ed.

“Oh, I like to read!” he answered with a grin. “Besides, I liked to watch Jeopardy.” Before the two detectives could ask more, a question came up again.

“Musical theater thousand— This musical has 281 candles per performance as well as using 250 kilograms of dry ice combined with 10 fog and smoke machines, to create that haunting atmosphere.”

“Phantom Of The Opera,” Ed answered quickly, and he was correct again.

Jim grins at Ed in amusement while Harvey shakes his head and sips his beer once again.

“Okay, yeah, no, there’s no way you got that right,” Harvey said with a skeptical look.

“Well, I like theater,” Ed answered. “Especially musicals.”

“Doesn’t answer how you got that right though.” Jim pointed out.

“I like to read fun facts…?” Ed offered with a sheepish smile.

“Here’s the real question though,” Harvey grinned, “Would you make more bags playing Jeopardy or doing forensic work?”

“I think I would… spontaneously combust first if I were in Jeopardy,” Ed frowned. Despite being smart, it doesn’t help with his social skills at all.

Harvey burst out laughing, which also made Ed smile slightly.

“Which, fun fact! Is a real thing that can happen to the human body,” Ed said.

“Wait, seriously?” Jim asked.

“No, nuh-uh, the kid is definitely bullshiting,” Harvey shakes his head once again.

“No, it’s a very real thing! One theory suggested that alcoholism might even be one of the causes,” he explained with such excitement that he hadn't felt it for at least a few weeks now.

Jim had to stifle a laugh while Harvey almost choked on his beer.

“Hey, another reason to tone down your drinking habit,” Jim joked.

“Well, now I have a new fear, thanks kid,” Harvey groaned.

“You are welcome?” Ed tilts his head and smiles

Harvey let out a small chuckle before drinking his beer again. Overall, it was surprisingly nice. Detective Bullock was surprisingly nice, and it wasn’t even from the alcohol the detective had consumed. They even laughed at his joke. Sometimes he would glance at Jim to see the man smile back at him with such a kind look.

He can’t figure out why, but the smile of the man was so captivating.

After chugging down his Shirley Temple to wash that thought out, the three men finished their drinks and left the place.

Jim offered to drive Ed home, but he simply shook his head, saying that he could go back home by himself.

Jim nodded, then with a smile and wave, he said his goodbye and they parted ways.

Well, to conclude, Ed didn’t regret going out for a drink with Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock.

Chapter Text

It has been a few days since Ed and the two detectives went out for drinks. Ed would say it went well. As a result, Harvey seemed to be a lot nicer to him, the man also tried to answer his riddles.

Ed speculated that Jim might have told Harvey to be nicer to him, because why would the older man have a drastic change?

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his thoughts out— he should be focusing on the files in his hand. What was he doing, what was he doing? Right, reading the files he just got from Miss Kringle.

He walks toward the hallway of the precinct, only to be met with a detective blocking his way. Malice flashed in the man’s eyes, looking at Ed with such insulting looks.

Of course, it needs to be Arnold Flass and his rotten officer friend.

“Detective,” he greeted with not much enthusiasm in his voice. “Can I help you with something?”

Flass grinned, all venomous and rotten, he looked at the other officer who was smirking before looking back at Ed.

“Nothin’ much.” He steps closer to Ed. “I heard that you are buddy-buddy with Bullock and Gordon now. Is that true?”

Ed took one step back, do people here have any idea what the definition of privacy means?

“I… do not see how that's relevant with anything.” Though his mind tells him to close his mouth and just walk away, for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to.

Flass scoffed, looking down at him as if he was less superior than the detective.

“Hey, I was just asking a question, why don’t you get off your high horse, huh?”

“High horse?” Ed repeated, the words made his eyebrows furrow. If anyone, Arnold Flass is the one who’s on a high horse.

God, the man made Ed’s hands clench into a fists— wrinkling the files in his hands.

“Yeah, you heard that right. Just because you are friends with those two doesn’t mean that you aren’t still a weirdo,” Flass spats out.

Weird.

That word again. He hates how it stung, hates how the officer laughed along with Flass, agreeing with him, and hates how other GCPD officers would think the same.

“I don’t—” Before he could formulate a sentence, a voice coming from behind interrupted him first.

“Don’t you have work to do, Flass?” Ed turned his head to see Harvey standing there, his hands in his pockets with an unreadable expression.

“Fuck off, Bullock,” Flass quipped. “Me and my buddy are just having some friendly conversation with the guy.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow and shook his head

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

“I ain’t afraid of you, y’know,” Flass looked at him with an irritated look, before stepping away from Ed.

“You should be,” Harvey said before gently pulling Ed toward him and swinging his arm to rest on Ed’s shoulder. “C’mon, kid. I still need an update on the new case.”

“What case—” he blinked at the sudden movement.

“Just come with me,” Harvey said quickly, the man walked his way through Flass, who looked hilariously offended, and to the forensic lab.

“You really don’t have to do that, detective,” Ed said when they arrived inside the room, feeling embarrassed at the situation, he darted his eyes away from the older man.

He hated this feeling, the feeling of being helpless as if he was a scared little boy who would cry at the slightest thing. Is he being pitied? Oh, how pathetic that is.

“Yeah, I know,” Harvey said. “But I feel like I should do something, those guys are assholes anyways.”

“Yes, we can agree on that.” A small smile escaped out of Ed’s face, he nodded his head and hummed in agreement. Ed then clears his throat, feeling the awkwardness creeping in. “Still, I think you don’t have to do that.”

“Why not?” The detective asked, leaning himself against the wall.

Ed opens and closes his mouth. Does he really need to spell it out for the detective?

“I— well—” He pursed his lips and let out a sigh, “I know that Detective Gordon told you to be nice to me, but you really don’t have to,” he quickly said.

Ed wants people to be kind to him, to at least show him that there’s still hope for him and this city, but something about it feels fake— just makes Ed feel like a foolish man.

After a moment of awkward silence, Ed stares down looking at the floor while the detective looks at Ed. Harvey sighed and straightened his back.

“Look, kid. I know we kinda got off on the wrong foot,” he paused. “Well, not kinda,” he corrected himself.

“Right,” Ed said dryly.

“I’ll admit, Jim did tell me to be nice the night we went to that bar together. But— I did have fun,” Harvey admitted.

Ed tilts his head and finally looks up at the other man, the man’s whole expression showing uncomfortableness.

This whole conversation is uncomfortable.

“The truth is, I don’t get you, your riddles, or how you get all excited at the simplest things,” he shrugged. “And I guess that confused me. I know that and my stress isn't an excuse to be shitty.”

Ed was about to make a counterpoint argument, he opened his mouth but the detective raised a finger, signifying for Ed to stop.

“Ah! Wait. This will be the only time you hear these words from my mouth, so hear me out first.”

Ed complied.

“Guess what I am trying to say is I’m sorry. Saint Jim needs to pull that stick out of my ass to make me realize that I can’t be shitty to anyone,” he snorted.

Ed looked at the detective, his mouth was open but words didn't come out. He doesn’t know what to say— or how to feel. Shocked? Conflicted? Happy? He didn’t expect this from the man. He opened his mouth again but failed to get his worth out.

“Holy shit, did I break you?” Harvey asked his tone a mixture of concern but also lighthearted. It was indeed something new.

“I— No, of course not.” Ed cleared his throat once again and adjusted his glasses. “I just… Thank you for your apology, detective. It does mean a lot… I am aware that sometimes I could be… tiresome, so I would like to apologize as well.”

“No need for you to apologize, kid,” Harvey shook his head. “And you ain’t that tiresome.”

Ed smiles slightly before pursing his lips.

“My brain… it works differently than others, and I suppose that’s why I acted the way I do, I— I, sometimes I don’t like it but… I can’t—” he was rambling, he was rambling like he always does when he’s nervous again. God, he hates how he reacts to certain situations.

“That’s okay,” Harvey said casually and nodded his head. It was weird to hear such a tone from the detective. “I just need to try to understand you.”

Ed can’t deny it, this feeling is nice— the feeling of someone willing to understand him.

“That’s… oddly kind of you,” Ed blinked, and Harvey chuckled at the statement.

“Yeah, I know. Weird,” he paused for a moment again. “You are a good kid, I don’t want the GCPD to lose that kind of person.”

Good.

He frowned at the word again. Good. He doesn’t believe it, no matter how many times Jim Gordon or Harvey Bullock will say that. He’s not… Good.

“Thank you, detective,” he smiles regardless.

“No need to thank me,” Harvey shrugged. “I probably should get going,” the man said before heading toward the exit. He stopped for a moment and looked at Ed.

“And if you have any problems… tell someone, okay?”

Ed paused for a moment, wondering if he meant mentally or socially. God, he’s such a mess.

“Yes, of course,” he smiles.

“Good,” Harvey nodded and headed out of the lab.

After Harvey exited the room, Ed couldn't help himself but rewind the conversation he just had. It was weird— his brain wanted to believe it was fake so badly, he wanted to believe that it was some kind of cruel trick, but even if he kept rewinding it, it did feel very genuine.

The older man listened to his nonsense rambling about how his brain works differently than the others and didn’t bat an eye. He felt that another part of him was exposed again, but this time it was received with a comforting response.

The last and only time he tried to tell someone that his brain might work differently was with his so-called guardian, his father.

His father would look at him with irritation and annoyance, yelling at him drunkenly that of course he’s a freak, of course he’s weird.

Harvey didn’t.

And he felt lighter again, knowing the older man wanted to try and understand him.

Harvey is no saint, he knows that— he did a lot of things that he’s not exactly proud of, one of them is being an asshole to everyone he knows, whether it is because of his defense mechanism, or not.

After having a talk with the kid, he goes back to his desk and plunges himself down onto the seat. He glanced to see Jim sitting at his desk across from him, focusing on some new clue to their new murder case.

“I think I just had a mushy conversation with the kid,” he blurted out.

That made Jim snap out of his work and look at Harvey.

“You mean Ed?” Jim questioned, raising his eyebrow.

“‘Course, I mean him. Flass and his lackey were picking on the guy, so I intervened— Unfortunately, I didn’t get to punch one of 'em,” Harvey paused for a moment before continuing. “Y’know, you’re right.”

“About what?” Jim asked.

“The kid, he’s troubled. Saw it in his eyes.” Harvey mumbled, he remembered looking at Nygma and could see that he was not only tired, but there was something troubled about them. He knows that look too well.

He might not fully understand Ed— or what he meant by ‘his brain works differently.’ Hell, even when the kid’s not using riddles, Harvey still finds it hard to understand him. But if Harvey really just looked at the kid, he could tell that something was wrong like Jim had said.

And the fact that Harvey may have contributed to that made him feel… bad.

Like a damn loser.

“...Yeah? Do you know what's troubling him?” Jim asked, Harvey could only shake his head.

“Who knows what’s going through the kid’s head?” he chuckled. “But if anyone were to figure it out, it should be you.”

“Why me?” Jim tilts his head.

“You serious? You’re probably the closest friend he got here,” Harvey pointed out. He doubts that the kid would tell anyone his problem, but Jim would tell a different story— He saw it when they were in the bar that night, how the kid’s body relaxed when Jim asked him questions or talked to him.

“Yeah… maybe you’re right, Harv,” Jim replied thoughtfully, his eyes darted to look at where the forensic lab was.

God bless this poor man's soul.

“Seems like you really had a mushy conversation with Ed, huh?” Jim smirked slightly, making Harvey let out a groan.

“Yes, yes. Mushy, emotional, heart to heart even, we cried manly tears,” Harvey said sarcastically and rolled his eyes.

“But seriously, thanks for talking to him,” Jim said with a small smile.

“It’s nothing,” Harvey shrugged.

There are a lot of amends that he still needs to make.

Near the end of his shift, as Ed finished reading the files he got, he was about to head out of the forensic lab to give the files back. He then opened the door but stopped his movement when he saw that Jim was standing in front of him.

Jim looked a little bit surprised before his expression softened, his lips curling up into a small smile that he always gives Ed.

“Jim! Hi,” he smiles. “Are you here for the blood result? I have not finished looking through that yet.”

“Ah, no,” he shakes his head, the man looks away from Ed for a moment and scratches his neck. “Was wondering if you want to… hang out with me tonight?”

“Is Detective Bullock coming?” Ed asked. He did enjoy the company of the older man the last time they went to the bar together.

“No, he said he’s tired… so it will be just you and me,” Jim pursed his lips. “That’s okay?”

“Yes, of course, I enjoy your company,” he grinned. “Um, but can we not go to the bar, please? It’s too noisy.” He frowned at the word, he hated that mere things such as noises can just mess his brain up.

“Yeah, sure… we can..” Jim paused for a moment. “Go to my apartment instead?” he blurted out.

“Oh?” Ed blinked.

“Only if you want to, I mean—”

“Yes, I would love to,” Ed smiled. Jim looked at him for a moment before smiling back.

“Right— if you’re finished with your stuff, tell me,” Jim said before heading out of the lab.

Ed couldn’t help but smile as he watched the other man walk out of the lab. He smiled at how warm he felt, he smiled at the fact that he was welcomed somewhere, he smiled at how it is good to feel wanted, and he smiled as the conversation kept rewinding in his head.

He can’t wait.

Chapter Text

Ed and Jim arrive at the apartment somewhere after their shift has ended, Jim's hand scrambles to find the key, then with a click, he unlocks the door. Jim slides himself away, letting Ed into the apartment.

He observes the interior design— It was cozy, and felt much more homey than Ed’s apartment even. He let out a hum as he looked around.

“Your place seems very cozy,” Ed said as he watched as Jim go to the kitchen, the man opened his refrigerator and fetched two bottles of soda.

“Thanks. It was actually ah…” The words trail off of Jim’s lips, making Ed tilt his head. Jim shakes his head before changing the subject. “Soda?” he offered.

Ed smiled, knowing that he perhaps shouldn’t push on the matter of whatever was on Jim’s mind.

“That would be nice, thank you,” he said. Ed could use something refreshing.

Both of the men settle on the sofa, giving each other some space. Ed’s fingers begin to rapidly tap on the cold glass bottle in his hand.

What now?

He clearly didn’t think this through— Foolish of him to just accept the invitation but did not plan ahead of what to say.

“...Do you know that flavored soda was originally created by pharmacists?” he blurted out. Oh, how he wanted to dig himself a hole and crawl into it, he hates being self-conscious of how stupid he sounds.

Jim lets out a hum and sips his drink.

“Well, now I know,” he said.

He didn’t seem surprised at Ed blurting out some random facts— Perhaps it is because he did it all the time… but this one was embarrassing.

The room when quiet again, Ed nervously taps the glass bottle, the cold droplets prickling his skin. He feels like he’s holding his breath, so uncomfortable at the situation— And before he could come up with something to say, Jim broke the silence first.

“You like video games, right?” he asked.

Thanking Jim silently for breaking the awkward silence, Ed snapped his head to look at Jim, surprise painted on Ed’s face. He didn’t know Jim would even remember that one comment he made about liking video games.

“Yes, I do,” he answered

“I think I have some of the old games layin’ around here,” Jim said, he sat up and began to scramble through the cabinet next to the sofa. “Got ‘em when I was in college, but never really played it.”

He heard a small ‘Ah!’ from Jim when the man found a copy of a Pokemon game, and showed it to Ed.

“Oh, Pokemon!” Ed exclaimed, he could feel his chest feeling lighter like he could breathe easier again.

“I don’t actually know what this is… but I think it will be fun?” Jim offered.

Ed grinned at the concept of the man not knowing what Pokemon was when the man was only a few years older than him.

“Yes, I have played this before— I love it,” Ed smiled at the memories of when he was younger when he still felt like there was still hope for him. “You have a console to run that, right?” he asked.

“I think so,” Jim said.

In the end, they did end up finding a home video game console, an N64 lying in the back of one of the shelves, all dusty. It makes Ed wonder how often Jim cleans this place up.

They settled down on the couch again, and Jim handed him the controller. Ed smiled and accepted it with a thank you. He pressed a button and the game started— A familiar background music started to play, with the message ‘Hello there, welcome to the world of Pokemon!’

“So… what’s the game about?” Jim asked, the man lifted one of his arms and rested it against the top of the sofa.

“Well– there's these creatures called Pokemon, and you catch them!” he answered eagerly. “You used them to fight with other nonplayable character’s Pokemon until you became the champion.”

“...Like a fighting ring?” Jim narrowed his eyes as he looked at the screen in front of them.

“...No, not quite,” he chuckled. “Ooh! Why don’t you try?” he asked and offered Jim the console back.

“I don’t know, Ed,” Jim blinked as he looked down at the console. “I never played before—”

“It will be fun!” Ed insisted. “Well… I hope it will be fun.”

Jim looked at the console again before grabbing it from Ed’s hand.

“Alright, fine,” he said. “You gotta guide me though.” He looked up at Ed, gave him a small smile and the man shifted himself closer to Ed.

Ed can feel the heat rising up his face for a moment at the close proximity.

“...Of course,” Ed choked out.

Ed told Jim how the buttons work, and how the mechanics work. His gaze flickers down on the other man’s hands. Wondering how it would feel to touch them.

“Ed,” Jim called out, making Ed snap out of the flustering thought. Why was he thinking of the texture of the man's hands!?

“Hmm…?” he let out a long hum.

“Who’s this?” Ed looked at the screen and blinked.

“Our rival, Jim. You need to name him,” he answered.

“That’s stupid. Why doesn’t he have a name?” Jim mumbled.

Ed grinned and shook his head.

It was quite fun seeing the detective struggling to choose the rival’s name for the game.

They ended up agreeing to name him Harvey.

Ed couldn’t help but smile at the atmosphere, he felt a sense of comfortableness he hadn't felt in, well, years, and the fact that it was solely because Jim was by his side, struggling to play a video game, or name his first pokemon— which they picked Squirtle.

“What’s strong against rock types again?” Jim asked.

“Water, Jim,” Ed answered.

Jim let out a small ‘oh’ as he tried to beat the first gym battle, and Ed relaxed on the sofa, excitedly watching Jim struggling to beat the gym leader.

It’s endearing to see a serious detective like this.

After the second attempt to beat the gym, which may have involved a lot of help from Ed— they both finally beat it. Jim let out a sigh, seemingly relieved that he didn’t have to do that again.

“You did it!” Ed exclaimed and Jim smiled.

“This is harder than it looks…” Jim grumbled, looking at the controller, the man fiddled with the buttons for a moment before taking a breath. “Can I… ask you something?” he asked.

“Yes?” he tilts his head.

“Are you okay?” And just like that, the room was quiet again. Ed snapped his head to look at Jim.

“I— What do you mean?” he asked, clearly knowing what the man meant.

“I know that other officers can be assholes sometimes, but— there’s more than that, right?” Jim questioned, his tone of voice becoming softer, a rare thing to hear from the gruff detective.

“I— I don’t know…” he wanted to deny it, he wanted to say no, but his mouth wouldn’t let another word fall from it.

“You can tell me, you know that right?” Jim said, he put down the controller and looked at Ed with an unreadable expression. “You’re a good person, Ed. And I want to help you… Whatever you’re struggling with.”

Good.

That word again and again. Jim said it when they were in the lab where Ed pathetically spilled his complaint of the workplace and when Harvey was apologizing to him.

Good.

“Why do you and Detective Bullock keep saying that?” he blurted out, his tone might have been more bitter than he expected, making Jim fully turn his attention to Ed.

“What do you mean?” Jim asked carefully.

“I— I am not…” He tried to choke his words out, but it suddenly became so hard. “I am not—” He tried again but failed, he covered his mouth with his hand and let out a shaky breath.

“Ed—”

Ed ignored the detective calling out for him, he stood up from the sofa abruptly, he adjusted his glasses before letting out another breath.

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I— I should go,” he said, not caring to look at Jim, his eyes flickering to the door, his mind telling him to go, go, go.

“Ed, please— we could talk about this,” Jim pleaded.

Ed shook his head, his legs were already heading toward the exit, Jim followed him but he kept his face down low, ignoring the man.

Grabbing the doorknob, he could feel a light touch on his shoulder. Jim's hand is on his shoulder. He winced slightly at the touch.

Feeling the warmth of the touch and the softness, he hesitated, he didn’t turn his head back but waited for Jim to say something.

“Let me help you,” he said in such a soft tone that made Ed just want to go back and sit on the sofa, but he knew too well to give in to the thought. “Please,” Jim pleaded.

He should go, he should go, he should go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, detective.” And with that, he left.

Getting back to his apartment was not easy, he was feeling shaky the whole way through as he drove in the dark street of Gotham, he found his key and unlocked his apartment, slamming it way too loud when he got inside.

Knowing he had ruined another potential friendship, he let out a sigh, falling down against the floor, his head resting against the cold metal door.

And it’s solely because of one word, one word that makes his blood run cold, making him feel so uneasy, and his skin crawls. He’s not a good man.

No matter how much he had done, he still had that shovel in his hand that night. No matter how long ago it was— He’s not… good.

‘Maybe this is for the best,’ a voice Ed knows too well chimed in his mind.

What did he even mean by that?

‘What I meant is us, being alone is for the best,’ the voice replied.

That’s pathetic.

‘It will be more pathetic for us if they put us in Arkham if they find out you talk to your quote-unquote figment of your imagination,’ with a sharp tone, the voice spat out.

Except the voice in his head is not just some figment of his imagination, He knows it can’t be. He remembers hearing this voice for the first time when he was a helpless child trapped in his father’s household. He even saw how the voice looked in his mind— he looked just like Ed.

The first thing that he remembered his look-alike said was—

‘Let me help you,’ he finished it for Ed. ‘I can read your thoughts, you do know that, yes?’

He can too. Sometimes.

‘If you can read my thoughts, then you know why friends are bad for us.’

“They won’t put me in Arkham,” this time, Ed mumbled out loud, he got up and walked across the room to sit on his bed, his hand brushing his now messy hair.

‘You want to risk that? Really?’ The voice’s tone was amused.

Yes.

‘Bullock told you—’ he paused. ‘Us.’ he corrected himself. The voice continued, ‘To get help!’

Detective Bullock apologised.

‘Riddle me this, does that makeup for his action?’ he quipped.

Yes.

‘You are too forgiving.’

Maybe he is. Why does it matter? He’s finally having friends, or at least that’s what he thinks.

‘It matters because they could hurt us!’ His look-alike snapped.

They won’t.

‘What if they will? What if they find out? What if they find out about me? Or what we did? What happens then?’

Ed let out a breath. Clutching tightly to his mattress he closes his eyes again and tries to relax. What he did was in the past— it doesn't matter.

“Stop,” Ed snapped.

Everything in his head was quiet for a moment, a moment for him to breathe.

‘I just want us to be safe.’

He knows that.

Ed knows that his look-alike just wants them to be safe, the other had protected Ed countless times, from his school’s bullies, and from his father, even when it just felt so hard to breathe.

Or when he wanted to give up.

‘I don’t want Arkham, I don’t want us to be hurt, you know the doctors will just see us as some sort of guinea pig, right?’

Maybe he’s right. What if the detectives find out what a mess he is? And what he did, and how messed up his mind is? They would. They would put him in Arkham. He could imagine the disgusted looks on their faces.

A freak, weird, and abnormal.

The thought of it makes Ed want to cry, while all he wanted right now was just silence.

No Gotham, no work, no whispering of the co-workers, just silence, absolute nothingness.

Please.

Chapter Text

The first thing that came into Jim’s mind after Ed started panicking was that he had done something wrong, he tried to reach his hand out and touch Ed’s shoulder lightly. He pleaded— for Ed to open up to him, wanting to take Ed’s pain away, but Ed fled from his grasp.

Ed’s voice was almost robotic when he said he’ll see Jim tomorrow, it hurts.

Shit.

The morning after didn’t go as well as Jim had intended, his mind was still thinking about the conversation last night— there were so many questions he wanted to ask Ed, so many things he wanted to say.

God, he doesn’t even know if he could fix this.

Jim arrived at the GCPD not long after, he spotted Harvey already sipping some coffee, reading the newspaper at his desk. He greeted the man and slumped himself down at his own desk.

He could feel Harvey looking at him, probably ready to ask questions—Is he that easy to read?

“I think I messed up,” Jim blurted out first.

“Messed what up exactly?” Harvey asked for clarification, putting the newspaper down.

“You said I should talk to Ed, so I invited him to my apartment...” Jim explained, putting his head against the headrest.

There was a moment of silence.

“...Oh?” Harvey exclaimed with a tone of intrigue. The man cleared his throat. “And what did you two do?” he asked.

“We played a video game,” he mumbled. Ed was so excited when he picked the game out— his smile was bright, the same one he liked to give Jim when he would answer Ed’s riddles correctly.

He wished Ed would smile like that again.

“Oh,” Harvey exclaimed again, with a tone that seemed disappointed. Jim could not bring himself to ask what the hell the man was even disappointed about.

“It was fine at first— We were having fun, Ed was smiling… and,” he paused and frowned. “I asked if he was doing okay and things started to go downhill from there,” he sighed.

Harvey was silent, waiting for Jim to elaborate more.

“I think it was because I called him ‘good’?” Jim’s eyebrows furrowed. “And he started to panic— I don’t know why… I…”

He looks away toward the forensic lab, wondering if Ed has gotten here yet, He probably has— he’s always early. He wonders what to do now. Would Ed even want to see him?

“And you think you have messed everything up and Ed hates you forever?” Harvey concluded.

God, he hopes that Ed doesn’t hate him.

“Well, no… yes..?” Jim frowned.

Harvey sighed, the man closed his eyes and pinched his nose.

“Alright— I ain’t a pro on relationships, but I can assure you that the kid doesn’t hate you,” Harvey assured, which Jim doubted.

“How are you sure?” he asked.

Harvey gave him an amused look. The man mumbled something to himself before chugging a huge gulp of his coffee and placing the cup down.

“I don’t know, Jim. Maybe it’s because you were the only one who reached out to him when the kid needed it?” The man said with widened eyes, gesturing his hands wide apart from each other.

“Oh,” Jim said softly.
“Exactly!” Harvey pointed a finger at Jim before letting out another sigh. “God, I need a drink after this… Look, just talk to him. He will probably listen to you.”

Jim considered Harvey’s words for a moment before nodding his head

“Thanks, Harv,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harvey mumbled. “You’re paying me for my drink afterward by the way,” Harvey said before picking the newspaper up.

“Sure, Harvey,” Jim snorted.

He will not be buying a drink for Harvey.

Right before Ed was about to eat his dinner from takeout, a new murder case was reported— Lovely. So right now, he’s kneeling down on the ground near a sewer tunnel, examining the body that had reportedly been washed ashore from the tunnel.

Ed feels like gagging from the smell of the sewer.

To make matter worse— the detectives on the case were Harvey Bullock and Jim Gordon.

Ed tries to ignore the anxiety building up inside his body, trying not to think of what had happened last night, the way Jim looked at him last night, or the way he touched Ed.

He just needs to focus on his work.

He just needs to focus.

“Ed,” Jim’s voice chimed in behind his back.

Damn it.

“Detective…” he said, trying to sound professional but failed. His eyes glued to his notepad, refusing to turn him around, and looked at Jim. “Victim has a bruise around his neck, and a stab wound on his left side…”

“No ID on the victim’s body?” Jim asked.

“Afraid not, so he’s a John Doe for now,” he said, standing up from the ground. “I will provide you with my reports when I am done with my findings.”

“Good, thanks.” Jim nodded his head, he paused for a moment before continuing. “Look, can we, uh, talk about last night..?”

Ed's breath hitched, his gaze flickered down on the dirty ground, while his hands clutching the notepad. He took a breath trying to keep his composure calm.

“There’s… nothing to talk about, detective,” he said, knowing so well that it was a lie, knowing that there’s so much to talk about, so much he could confess to Jim.

But what if he was right? What if after spilling his guts out, he would end up in Arkham?

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Jim replied. “I… Look, I think I said something that upset you… and I am sorry,” Jim said softly, he could barely stand the tone of the man’s voice.

So genuine and kind.

Ed didn’t respond, because what could he say? He wanted to open his mouth and say something, maybe something harsh to drive the man away but words wouldn’t come out of him.

“Detective Gordon?” an officer called out for Jim.

The man sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Guess I’ll see you later,” Jim said before walking away.

Ed let out a breath he was holding when Jim walked away, he turned around to see that the detective was out of sight by now.

He knelt back down, deciding to examine the body more though his mind was not focusing on the matter at hand.

“I don’t think staring at the dead body will bring him back, kid” Harvey's voice chirped in from beside him, he turned his head to look up at the man and blinked. How long has he been staring at the body?

“Detective Bullock?” He said before scrambling to his feet. “Um, oh, I was just… checking for more… injuries?”

“Uh huh,” the detective gave him a doubting look. “We’re gonna wrap this whole thing up, you could ride with me back to the precinct,” Harvey offered.

“What about Detective Gordon?” Ed tilts his head.

“Eh, he needs to discuss something with an officer first, bless that man's soul, his hair might start falling out anytime soon.”

It was… again, oddly kind, but nice of the detective to bring up the offer. Before he can make a decision, Harvey swings his arms and wraps them around Ed’s shoulder, then he starts to walk.

Ed let out a small surprise yelp at the action before his legs started to move along.

“You ever taken that thinking cap out?” Harvey asked.

“In promises I linger, in dreams I am alive, what am I?” He asked

Harvey blinked and furrowed his eyebrows.

“You can’t answer my question with a riddle, kid,” Harvey said in a lighthearted tone.

“Do you give up?” Ed asked.

Harvey let out a small groan as they walked to Harvey’s car.

“Yeah, the gear in my brain ain’t working right now,” Harvey said, both of the men opened the door to the front seat and settled down.

“Never,” Ed said.

“Hm?” Harvey hummed, starting the car.

“You asked me if I ever stop thinking, I never stop thinking,” Ed explained.

“...Yeah, I don’t know how I didn’t see that coming,” Harvey snickered and Ed smiled slightly, the man scanned the road as they started to drive off. “So… about you and Jim.”

Of course, Jim told Harvey.

“What about the detective..?” Ed said slowly, already regretting getting into the car with Harvey.

“I don’t know what the hell happened, but Jim thinks he did something wrong and now he looks like he kicked a puppy,” Harvey explained. “Or he’s the kicked puppy,” Harvey added.

“It’s nothing,” Ed mumbled. “Wait, was the offer a trick to get me to tell you what happened?”

“Yes and no,” Harvey smirked.

Ed frowned, and rested his head against the window, his eyes glued to the view outside, gazing upon the city as it got darker. He let out a sigh. With no way of getting out of this situation, he surrendered.

“I just… I think I may have made the detective panic because of my…” he trailed off. “Issues.”

“Everyone has issues, kid,” Harvey answered.

“But my issues are… I— I don’t know…” He paused for a moment, trying to find the word to describe his issues, but all the words that came into his head were—

Messed up.

Demented.

Ugly.

“...bad,” he said instead. “I— I hate it. I hate having to deal with these…”

“Then why don’t you let someone help you?” Harvey retorted.

“No one can.” Though it was said softly, it was covered with bitterness. “And I don’t want anyone to.”

“Kid, like it or not, there will always be someone who wants to help you.”

And let them see all of his ugliness..? Exposing himself to the possibility of being trapped in Arkham just because he can’t handle his issues— No, he can’t let that happen.

“Jim is one of ‘em,” Harvey stated. “And, hey, I have issues too, Jim still likes me and buys me drinks… or was it because he lost a bet?” the man mumbled to himself, Ed couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Huh…” he hums softly.

“And y’know… I have issues too, some crap I did from the past I regretted, bottle em’ up until I became like this,” Harvey shrugged. “And I doubt you want to be like me.”

“Well… you aren't that bad,” Ed said, Harvey paused for a moment before letting out a chuckle and shaking his head.

“Whatever you say, kid,” the man said with a smirk.

Ed let out a grin, it sounded tired but it was genuine.

“Thank you again,” Ed said.

“Told you that you don't need to thank me,” Harvey brushed off the gratitude. “And hey, you have issues, I have issues, at least we have issues together.”

“I suppose..” he smiled.

He couldn't help but wonder if Harvey would understand him, his issues, the ugly things that were done to him, and what he had done. Would he still give him advice and bear Ed’s existence like this?

Because, god— he does not want to lose this, but what if he keeps lying to the others about what he really is, and what is on his mind, would they hate him?

They would.

He's stuck in a dilemma, one that can cause everything to change.

He told the truth, and they sent him to Arkham— he kept lying, and everything got worse.

“Ed?” Harvey called his name out, making him snap out of his thoughts.

“Yes, detective?” he asked.

“You know you can call me Harvey right?” Harvey said.

“...but you are—”

“An old man with a badge, just call me Harvey, kid,” he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Okay,” he pursed his lips. “Harvey.” It sounded weird, but he liked it.

“Now that's better,” Harvey grinned. “Now, I was about to ask.. you like rock?”

“Yes, …I do.”

“Good,” Harvey said before turning on the radio, the tune of ‘Beautiful Boy’ started chiming in his ears and around the car.

He let out a sigh, and with his head resting against the window, he closed his eyes.

Letting the music soothe him, he tries not to think of the future, or the voice back in his mind telling him that it’s too risky to share an ugly part of himself with someone else.

That's his problem in the future.

Chapter Text

Ed thanked Harvey after they arrived at the precinct, he quickly headed to the forensic lab, his hands scrambling to find a piece of paper in one of the drawers, and a pencil.

‘Are you really doing this?’

Yes, and he would like some silence so he could think peacefully.

He puts down the paper on his desk and lets out a hum. What should he write? It should be something thoughtful, something that captures his wants.

Maybe something simple.

A riddle never failed him yet.

“Ah!” Ed exclaimed before writing down a riddle that he had just come up with, he signed his name, and slipped the paper into an unused file, addressing it to Jim.

‘That’s stupid.’

No, it is not.

Ed scanned through his writing one last time for mistakes, before closing it. He looks at the file for a moment, pursing his lips before heading out of the labs. He stumbled to the hallway, gripping the files in his hand, his eyes scanning to see that only Harvey was sitting at his desk, Jim was nowhere to be found.

Perfect.

He walks toward Jim’s desk and slides the file onto it.

“Isn’t it the end of your shift— What’s that?” Harvey, who was going through today’s report, looks up from his desk, his eyes gazing at the file curiously.

“Uh, I work like a key, without me, guests are absent,” he blurted out. “Good night, Harvey!” he said, before quickly walking away.

“Wait— Oh, c’mon!” Was the last thing he heard from the detective.

Today didn't go as Jim wanted it to. Ed didn’t even turn to look at him, Was it too fast? Should he have given Ed more time alone? Now that he thinks of it, maybe trying to talk things out while working might not be his brightest idea, not to mention that the said work involves a dead body.

He came back to the GCPD later than anyone, damn Penguin, and damn this city— He walked to slump himself onto his chair, hoping to at least talk to Harvey but froze as his eyes spotted a file that was addressed to him.

“What’s this?” He mumbled, picking the file up.

“Beats me,” Harvey shrugged. “You should probably open it though.”

Jim traces his hand over the handwriting, he knows this handwriting, is clean and neat like the report he would get from the forensic scientist.

From Ed.

He opens the file to just be met with a single piece of paper.

‘I open the doors of understanding without a sway,
Link minds over miles in less than a day.
I'm not metal, yet I unlock every spree,
In relationships and work, what am I?’

The address at the end seems to be where Ed lives and is signed with Ed’s name.

“So… what is it?” Harvey asked

“I need to go,” Jim said, closing the file and grabbing his belongings before he began striding away.

“No one’s gonna tell me anything in this household—!?” Harvey groaned.

“Later!” he shouted back.

As Jim walks away, his hands keep holding onto the file, he looks at it intently, looks at Ed’s handwriting, and how he writes Jim’s name so neatly as if it was such an important detail.

Jim makes his way to his car, scrambles to find the key, once he gets inside settles in, and starts driving. His mind danced around the letter he was given.

Not long after he reached his destination, he got out of his car and looked up at an old apartment building.

Ed lives here.

The man went upstairs, looking at the letter once more to check the room number. Once he makes sure that he’s standing in front of the correct door he takes a deep breath. Why is he nervous? He was just about to talk to a …friend.

That he cared about.

Maybe too much.

He knocked on the metal door and waited for a moment before it slid open, he looked up to see Ed, the taller man wearing a plain white shirt and pants, casual clothing that he never saw from the man before.

“Jim…” Ed said, he looked as the man pursed his lips nervously. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jim said back. “Communication,” he added.

The man looked at him and smiled slightly, he always liked how Ed always smiled when Jim got his riddle correct like it meant the world to Ed.

“Yes, communication is key… or so they say.” Ed nodded his head. Jim watched as the man slid himself to the side, and motioned his hand, signaling Jim to come in.

He scans around the apartment, it is messy, not what he expected from the neat forensic, his gaze flickers to see a poster that seems to be some sort of a video game. It reminds Jim of that night when Ed was at his apartment, how they were so close to each other.

How Ed was so happy.
How their hand almost touched when Ed was teaching him about the console, makes Jim blush at the thought.

How would it be to feel Ed’s hand?

“You are right, we should talk,” Ed said and cleared his throat, standing nervously in the middle of the room, fiddling with his fingers.

“I would love that,” Jim nodded, glad that Ed wanted to talk things out with him.

“Why don’t we settle down?” Ed suggested, as he motioned his hand to the couch, Jim agreed with Ed and both of them settled down on the couch, leaving some distance between them.

There was an awkward silence— Ed opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it, the man took a breath before blurting words out.

“I am sorry about that night, I freaked out and tried to push you away because I—” He begins to ramble, his eyes not daring to look at Jim.

“Ed,” Jim said softly, scared that he would freak the man out. “It’s okay… I made you feel uncomfortable, that was on me. I am sorry.”

He looked at Ed who was frowning, the man shook his head.

“No… I…” he sighed. “I shouldn’t just leave.” One of Ed’s hands was gripping his pants, Ed’s nervous, very nervous— god, it made him want to reach his own handout and touch Ed’s smooth skin.

He wonders if his calloused hand would comfort Ed.

“You have every right to,” Jim reassured him.

“I want to tell you what’s going on truly— but, I just… can’t,” he said with a brittle tone. “You are one of the kindest people I know and I do not want to lose someone like that,” he frowned.

The thought that Ed believed Jim would abandon him made him sad, because how could anyone abandon someone as sweet as this man?

“You wouldn’t lose me, Ed,” he said, shifting himself to be slightly closer to Ed, he looked intently at the man who was avoiding eye contact with him.

“How could you say that with such boldness?” Ed asked coldness at the edge of his voice.

“Because I am sure of it,” he retorted

“You don’t know me, Jim,” Ed said, Ed finally looked up, and turned his face around, looking at Jim dead in the eyes.

The man’s eyes were dark and unreadable.

“What, am I not the person you think I am?” Ed asked.

“I don’t care, Ed—” he shakes his head.

“Who do you think I am?” Ed asked him. “What am I?”

Jim looked at the man's unreadable expression, deep into his eyes, without thinking, he reached a hand to gently touch Ed’s hand that was gripping his pants.

Ed froze for a moment, he could feel the man’s breath hitch before his hand began to relax against Jim’s touch.

“You are… Edward Nygma,” he said. “The sweetest person I’ve ever met. You are so kind, you are fun and comforting to be around, you make me feel relaxed, you are so smart, and I could just listen to you ramble all day.”

“Jim—”

“I mean it,” Jim squeezed Ed’s hand gently

“What if I am not…” Ed frowned.

“Then I will learn to get to know you again,” Jim said softly, giving Ed a reassuring look. “Because you are worth knowing.”

Ed’s eyes widened, and he felt Ed’s breath getting shakier, the man pulled his hand out gently, and used it to cover his mouth, he turned his face away from Jim.

“Shit— Ed, are you okay?” Jim asked, scared that he had messed it up again.

Ed didn’t say a thing for a moment, he shook his head before taking a deep breath, and slowly turning his head to look at Jim again.

Jim gazed up at Ed’s eyes, he could see the small droplet of tears lingering in the man’s eyes.

“Ed—” Jim wanted to cup Ed’s face and wipe them away.

“I’m fine,” Ed said. “Thank you.” He said softly.

“For what..?” Jim asked.

“For making me feel needed,” Ed answered.

How could Ed just say that so smoothly and expect Jim to move on— He could feel the heat rising up on his face, his gaze flickering down at Ed’s lips.

“I always needed you,” he mumbled before leaning forward to kiss Ed’s soft lips.

The man froze for a moment, before kissing Jim back, Ed’s hands found themselves slowly wrapping around Jim’s shoulder, as Jim grabbed Ed’s waist.

He kissed Ed gently, living in the moment, not wanting it to stop, the way Ed made him feel so warm, wanted, and loved.

He pulled out to look at Ed’s face, he could see the blush on the man’s face.

“Did… did you mean that?” Ed asked, his face flushed.

“I did,” Jim smiled, and he once again took Ed’s hand into his own. “I care about you, Ed. I want you to know that, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

Ed gave him a small smile, his gaze softened, though there was a hint of doubt, Jim sealed his promise with a kiss on Ed’s knuckles.

“Promise,” he mumbled.

“Okay!— okay…” Ed giggled and pulled his hand away from how ticklish it felt, also because of how it made him flustered. “I trust you… Maybe one day... I will tell you,” he said.

Jim smiled in delight.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I… was about to have dinner when you knocked at the door, would you care to join me?” Ed asked with a smile.

“I would love to have dinner with you,” Jim said softly.

“Good, it’s a dinner date then!” the man blurted out before he swiftly got off of the couch and walked to his kitchen.

Jim almost choked when Ed said ‘dinner date.’

Jim found himself blushing from that sentence, he held his hand up to cover the blush on his face—- God damn it.

He lifted himself up from the seat and followed Ed into the kitchen not long after.

He watched as Ed prepared their meal— it was steak, mixed with aubergine salad. The man didn’t expect that Jim would accompany him, so the portions of the meals were smaller than usual.

“It’s okay, Ed,” Jim gave him a small smile, as he watched Ed put the dishes on the dining table.

He settled down on his own seat, grabbing a fork before starting to dig in. The first bite was— amazing. The meat was in a soft contrast with the crispy aubergine perfectly.

“Wow,” Jim said, before taking another bite. “This is really good, Ed,” he said in astonishment. He never knew that the man could cook this good.

“Really?” Ed grinned in satisfaction.

“Yeah,” he smiled at the sight of Ed looking satisfied with his response. “I never knew you could cook.”

“I love cooking,” Ed responded with a soft smile, taking a bite of his own dish. “It’s another form of science… and my mother loves it when I cook.” His gaze softened.

Jim looked up, this was the first time Jim had heard of Ed’s family, it was a surprise to him.

Jim smiled back regardless.

“That’s really nice, Ed.” He complimented.

Ed smiled at Jim back in return, happiness mixed with something gloomy plastered on the man’s face.

They continued to eat— Ed talked about how Harvey gave him a lift today, and how he prepared their dinner. It was nice, he could just sit there and listen to Ed’s smooth voice. He’s also satisfied that Harvey has been nicer to Ed.

After both of the men finished eating, they put the dishes in the sink, and then Jim offered to help Ed with the dishes.

“I insist,” Jim said.

“But— you are a guest,” Ed responded.

“The guest that just kissed you, yeah,” Jim quipped, before he started washing the dishes, while Ed stood there stunned.

The taller man let out a ‘Hmph.’ accepting defeat, while his cheeks reddened.

“Fine, I suppose you can help me,” he said, drying off the dish Jim finished washing.

Jim glanced up at Ed and let out a small grin.

Ed grinned along.

There are still things that Ed hasn't told Jim yet, but he’s willing to wait until Ed is ready.

As for right now, he wants to enjoy hearing their laughter surround the room.

Chapter Text

It has been a week since Jim kissed him, a week since Jim’s soft lips were against his own, kissing him with such warmth, clinging on to it so needily.

It makes Ed feel like a mess, he wanted more, more of that feeling, more of Jim though he knew it wouldn't last, but…

He wanted to feel loved for once in his life.

To know and understand why people yearn for their lovers, to experience the weird, complicated feelings.

Ed’s mind ran the footage over and over, his eyes gazing away from the microscope that he was supposed to be looking at.

He was feeling like a fool in love.

His hand tapped on his desk as he remembered Jim's scent from that night, how the man smiled at him, and how his lips brushed against Ed's knuckles, tickling him but, god, also making him so flustered.

He snapped out of the thought when he heard a knock at the door.

“Ed, you in there?” the voice of none other than Jim passes through the door.

Ed smiled when he heard Jim’s voice.

“Yes, come in!” he said excitedly.

Watching the man get in, he tilts his head as he sees a white box in Jim's hands.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Ah, I bought some snacks,” Jim said with a small smile, putting the box down on the desk and opening the box, revealing two sweet baked cinnamon rolls glazed in white frosting. “You need to eat something.”

“I ate this morning,” Ed frowned. “Well, it was a slice of bread with butter— But I did eat something,” he added.

“Exactly,” Jim pointed out as he began to cut out the cinnamon roll with a fork that supposedly was given to him with the cinnamon rolls. “You can’t just eat one slice of bread for breakfast, Ed.”

“Well, I woke up later than usual today…” He frowned, he usually never wakes up late, god— he needs to fix his sleeping schedule.

“Still made it here earlier than Bullock,” Jim grinned, holding the fork up, and handing it toward Ed. “Try it, it’s from a new bakery down the street.”

“I can feed myself, Jim,” Ed blinked, his gaze flickered down at the fork.

“But I want to do it,” Jim frowned. “C’mon…” He said, stretching the word with playfulness.

Ed hesitated for a moment, his cheeks probably reddened by the situation right now— He let out a small sigh.

“Okay, fine,” he grinned, before leaning in to take a bite of the cinnamon roll, he let out a small humming as he chewed it. “Hm, this is really good!”

“Yeah?” Jim smiles with satisfaction.

“Yuh huh,” Ed smiled back, reaching his hand to grab a tissue from his desk, wiping the glaze off of his lips while hiding how flustered he was right now. “Okay! My turn!” he grinned, grabbing the fork from Jim.

“Huh?” Jim blinked.

“You also need to eat,” he smiles, cutting a piece of the cinnamon roll.

“I—” Ed noticed a red tint on Jim’s face, making him need to suppress a smile. “Yeah, okay,” he chuckled.

“Good,” he hummed in satisfaction, leaning the fork forward to Jim. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! That’s why I at least ate a slice of bread, not only that but—” Before Ed could continue, Jim leaned in to bite the cinnamon roll.

“Well?” Ed asked.

“Yeah, this is very good,” he smiled. “Even better when you are the one feeding it,” he smirked.

Ed almost choked.

“You can’t just say that,” Ed said with a smile on his face, grinning as he dropped his face, looking at the cinnamon rolls instead of Jim.

“Yes, I can,” Jim quipped. “Because I am your—” Before Jim could finish his sentence, Ed stuffed another piece of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

“No talking while eating,” Ed said, making Jim pout his mouth jokingly, he rolled his eyes and grabbed the fork back from Ed.

“My turn again,” Jim smirked, making Ed laugh.

A creak was heard at the door, they both snapped their head to see a tired detective coming into the room uninvited.

“Jim, you in here—” Harvey stopped, as he saw the two men sitting next to each other, and Jim holding a fork. “Are you two feeding each other?” He narrowed his gaze.

“No,” Ed blurted from embarrassment.

“Uh—”

“Holy shit is that cinnamon roll?” Harvey asked, walking toward them.

“I… yes, Jim bought them,” Ed asked, blinking— The older detective didn’t seem surprised or weirded out by Jim and him feeding each other.

“You bought Cinnamon rolls and didn’t tell me? Wow,” Harvey said with a disappointed tone. “So much for a friend,” he added sarcastically, making Jim let out a groan.

“Think about your blood sugar level, Harvey,” Jim said sarcastically, he turned to look at Ed and gave him a look that Ed could only read as ‘Can you believe this guy?’

Ed had to stifle a laugh.

Yes, he can believe this guy.

“I am too old to be thinkin’ about that,” Harvey said, grabbing the fork from Jim.

“Shouldn’t that be the reason to be even more worried about it?” Ed asked.

“Oh, let me be happy, kid,” he said before taking a bite.

“You know— I bought only two cinnamon rolls,” Jim crossed his arms together.

“Damn, really? That’s too bad, Jimbo,” Harvey said, unbothered.

Ed couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Jim pointed out, frowning like he had been betrayed.

“Well, yes— but it is funny,” he grinned.

“Hah! He isn’t even on your side!” Harvey pointed a finger at Jim. “Good job, kid,” he smirked, clapping Ed’s back gently, making Ed smile.

He truly hasn’t felt this light for so long.

The three men spend their time in the forensic lab— Harvey ate one of the Cinnamon rolls and left another one for both of them. Jim complained that the cinnamon rolls were expensive, which if Ed had to guess, Harvey doesn’t seem to care.

“You could get it yourself, y’know that right? The bakery is right there!” Jim argued.

“Yeah, I know,” Harvey deadpanned before taking another bite.

“Ed, back me up,” Jim sighed.

“Well, Harvey’s right, I would say that it would rather make no sense if he was about to buy cinnamon rolls now when it’s right here.”

“Hah!” Harvey laughed and gave a thumbs up to Ed.

He laughed before turning his head to Jim.

“I could make them,” Ed suggested.

“Wait really? You bake?” Harvey snapped his attention to Ed.

“I bake and cook!” Ed nodded his head. “Perhaps I could bake something for you in return, Jim,” he suggested, eyeing Jim.

Jim's reaction to that statement was— priceless. He blushed and used one of his hands to hide them.

“I— I would love that, yeah,” Jim said with a small smile.

Ed smiled back.

Ed was about to ask what Jim would like when someone knocked on his door, Ed tilted his head and told the other side to come in.

A police officer came in, looking for both of the detectives. It appears that there has been a new murder case.

“Shit,” Harvey let out a groan, before heading out of the room, Jim and Ed followed.

Ed heard the report. A woman was killed in the suburb side of the city, and the suspect is her husband, the officers are currently searching the house while Ed is analyzing the dead body that he suspects has been dragged out of the house and onto the backyard.

There are head injuries— perhaps, she was pushed, but what about the bruises on her arms then? What about the, what about the—

He can’t focus.

He took a breath and closed his eyes for a minute, of all the precincts, why did they have to go?

He’s not afraid of a dead woman's body, no— he has unfortunately seen that countless times. The place here is the problem.

He remembers the road here too well, the way to go to the local mini-mart, the park that only took five minutes to walk to be there, the rusted roundabout, the tacky diners, or the hospital nearby.

Ed lived here.

On this side of the city when he was a child.

He tried, really tried not to think about it that much— the memories of the crying child that was him.

Out of all the places he could be in right now, god.

He opened his eyes and took another deep breath before trying to focus again

Ed looked up for a moment, noticing that Jim had walked his way, Ed stood up from the ground.

“Ed, you got anything new about the victim?” he asked.

“Yes— There are head injuries on her… I suspected that the husband may have pushed her down,” he said, writing down some notes. “Which… have you found him?” Ed asked.

“No… shit, he might have fled already,” Jim grumbled.

“Well, I am sure the GCPD can find him in no time,” Ed responded, his eyes focusing on the paper he had been scribbling nonsense on. God, he needs to focus.

There was a moment of silence between the two men, Jim looked at him with curiosity.

“You okay, Ed?” Jim asked.

Ed immediately snaps his attention to Jim, he blinks before letting out a small ‘oh’ and shakes his head.

“Right as rain,” he answered with a small smile. “Just trying to focus… that’s all.”

“You sure?” Jim asked. “You seemed… tense.”

Before Ed could open his mouth, there was the sound of a police officer screaming.

“GCPD, Freeze!” Both Ed and Jim turned their attention to where the sound was coming from, Jim put one arm in front out of protectiveness.

They saw a man with a gun running out of the house into the backyard, eyes wide, looking bloodshot even, trembling and twitching.

“Stop or I— I— will shoot!” the man said, voice shaky. His hands pointing the guns at nowhere.

Jim pulled out his gun, protecting himself from the man.

“Don’t shoot!” Jim said “Mr. Anderson— We need you to remain calm,” he said in a calmer tone. “Drop your gun.”

The man, or Mr. Anderson looked at Jim, the man shaking his head repeatedly.

“I’m not letting you fuckers take me!” he shouted, and with a click, the man shot his gun at Jim and Ed's direction.

Bang.

“Jim!” Ed didn’t even think, as if his body moved on its own, he quickly jumped to cover Jim.

As soon as Ed was shot, he could hear Jim calling out for his name. Ed let out a croak, at first it felt like he was being punched, then his left shoulder felt like it was burning.

He let out a painful yelp, feeling himself falling down, Jim caught in time before he hit the ground.

His vision was blurry.

“Go get the medic right now!” he heard Jim shout at someone.

Ed couldn’t muster the strength and the embarrassment to look up who it was.

Ed gasped from the pain.

“Ed—” Jim called out for him, his voice so panicked. “You’re going to be okay,” he said so desperately as if he was praying for Ed to be okay.

Clinging on to Ed.

“J— Jim…” he managed to say, though he didn't even know what he wanted to say after that. He just wanted to say Jim’s name.

As if it would be the last time he’d get to say it.

“Please don’t close your eyes,” Jim pleaded.

He turns his head around weakly, seeing that the killer is being pinned to the ground.

Good.

The world was so blurry for him at the moment— he couldn’t hear what Jim was saying to him, he only knew that the man was holding him so tightly.

And that the man’s body was shaking.

He can hear the voice back in his mind panicking. He’s surprised that even when he’s bleeding, his mind is still messed up.

Then there was nothing but silence.

Just nothing

Just silence.

Chapter Text

The first thing that he heard was a beep, repeated over and over, he fluttered his eyes open, at first everything was blurry— He blinked again, looking around the room, he was in a bed, and there was a heart monitor, the familiar smell of antiseptic.

He’s in the hospital.

The hospital that he used to—

Why was he here—

He tried to get up but hissed from the pain in his left shoulder, he snapped his head to look at the bandaged shoulder and blinked.

Right.

He took a deep breath and turned his head away to another side, he froze when he saw Jim.

Jim’s face was resting against the bedside, two arms tucked beneath his head, while his body was draped on an uncomfortable-looking chair.

Jim’s here.

God, he was being such a mess that he didn’t even notice Jim.

He slowly moved his undamaged shoulder and used his hand to gently touch Jim’s hair, stroking the man’s soft hair like it was delicate as if he could destroy it at any point.

Jim slowly moved, he slowly looked up, his eyes dazed at first before it widened looking at Ed.

“Ed—” he managed to say. Oh, he sounds so sad, as if Ed was so important to Jim.

“Jim,” he croaked, Jim immediately took Ed’s hand and put it against the man’s lips.

“You’re okay,” he said, squeezing Ed’s hand gently, kissing his knuckles. “God, don’t do that again,” he breathed.

“But if I didn’t…” Ed responded but quickly got interrupted by Jim.

“I don’t care, Ed— I just want you to be fine,” Jim retorted.

“But you would get shot,” Ed replied.

“I could take it,” Jim said.

“You are human too, Jim, you could not just simply ‘take it,’” Ed quipped.

The room went quiet for a moment, all Ed could hear was the sound of the heart monitor, and then Jim let out a sigh.

“I was supposed to… protect you, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face behind Ed’s hand.

Ed removes his hand away from Jim and uses it to cup the man’s face gently instead, making Ed see Jim’s sad blue eyes.

“I’m sorry I made you worried as well,” Ed said softly, he tried to shift himself, but it only caused pain.

“You should stay still— shit, I probably should get a doctor,” Jim said, standing up from his seat. “Don’t do anything stupid, m’kay?” Jim added, kissing Ed’s forehead before running out of the room.

Ed wanted to scoff, but the kiss made him too flustered for that.

When Jim got back from the doctor, The doctor told Jim that luckily the bullet missed any major arteries and that he needed to be here for at least a couple of days for monitoring reasons.

Great.

When the doctor went out of the room, Ed let out a sigh, annoyed at the situation. God, even breathing hurts.

“...Are you upset?” Jim asked carefully.

“I’m not upset,” Ed answered quickly after.

Jim gave him a doubtful look, raising his eyebrows, and making Ed let out another sigh.

“Maybe a little,” Ed mumbled.

“At least you will get a break from work?” Jim offered. “And… y’know it’s quiet here, kinda different from GCPD.”

Jim was correct. It’s quiet and peaceful, Ed could think clearly in an atmosphere like this, but god, he would rather be anywhere right now instead of being stuck in this hospital.

The hospital in the suburbs.

Near his childhood home.

Being in here is like a reminder that he can’t escape his past— the ugly floor tiles pattern of the hospital he would see so many years ago is still the same, the white wall that he swears almost every room must have at least one crack or the uncomfortable bed.

He would rather be anywhere right now but here because of the memories of the hospital lingering in his mind.

How he would lie that he got into a fight with some friends to the point that he needed a hospital.

Ed snapped out of the thought.

He can’t be thinking about that.

“Well, I liked my work,” Ed answered dryly. “What… happened to the killer, anyway?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, he got arrested and we gave the case to Alvarez, so…” Jim shrugged.

Ed tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at Jim with confusion.

“What— Why?” Ed asked.

“Because you are shot, Ed,” Jim said, his eyes looking into Ed with such worry. “And I want to take care of you.”

Ed stared at Jim for a moment, warmth rising in his chest.

“Oh,” he exclaimed softly.

“Yeah… and also, Harvey is running around outside, trying to find us lunch,” he said, letting out a grin.

Ed chuckled softly.

“That’s quite… an interesting picture to imagine.” He said.

“Yeah, it’s like watching a panicked dad trying to find his missing child,” Jim snorted.

Ed laughed at the comparison, shaking his head.

“I don’t think Harvey would like that comparison,” Ed said, Jim smirked and hummed in agreement.

The man paused for a moment before continuing.

“I think you already woke up once before going back to sleep,” Jim said.

Ed tilts his head, he doesn’t remember waking up before this.

Except—

“Did I do something?” Ed asked.

“No,” Jim shakes his head. “You woke up suddenly, and you turned your head to see me before turning your head away and going back to sleep.”

Ed paused for a moment, his eyes darting away from Jim.

“Must be the Propofol then,” Ed mumbled. “Anesthetic, I mean.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jim nodded in agreement.

Not long after— Harvey came into the room, his face relieved when he saw that Ed was okay, Ed gave him a small wave using the undamaged arm.

“Jesus, thank god,” Harvey let out a breath, the man had what seemed to be plastic bags filled with boxes of food and three water bottles. He put them down on one of the cabinets in the room.

“You got me and the boy scout worried, kid,” Harvey said.

“Oh— you were worried. I’m sorry,” He didn’t know why that came as a surprise to him that the older man was worried about him, they were surprisingly getting along this past few weeks.

Harvey shook his head, dragging another chair from the room before slumping himself over.

“If a vein of mine ever pops, I’m blaming you two,” Harvey groaned.

Jim smirked, he looked at the plastic bag that Harvey brought, before going through it.

“What did you buy?” Jim asked.

“There was like a small Thai diner around the suburb, and I got some Pad Thai,” Harvey answered.

Jim grabs a box and gives it to Ed.

“Thanks,” Ed smiled, using one hand to open the box.

“You aren’t going to feed him, right?” Harvey chirped at him, making Jim and Ed flustered.

“Harvey!” Jim said, pinching his nose, his cheek was a shade of red.

“What!? The kid’s shoulder clearly ain’t working!” Harvey argued back, motioning his hand toward Ed.

“I— Well, I still can use my other hand, it’s not that hard?” Ed answered, flustered at the question Harvey made— sometimes the man really can be straightforward.

“You can?” Jim asked, his voice sounding a little disappointed, Ed had to turn his head to look at Jim and blinked.

“Well, yes!” he exclaimed.

Harvey burst out laughing, his hand covering his face as he laughed and shook his head.

Jim lightly kicked Harvey's legs in a playful way before opening his own box of Pad Thai and taking a bite.

Ed can’t help but giggle at the scene, he then turns his attention to the Pad Thai in front of him.

Letting out a sigh, he takes a fork and begins to eat the Pad Thai.

Sometime later, Jim and Harvey were outside the patient room, supposedly talking about the case with Detective Alvarez on the phone, leaving Ed alone. The man let out a breath, trying to relax in his bed, his very uncomfortable bed, as if nothing had changed for the last ten-something years.

He will not think about— No, he will not. He will not think about the fact that he was familiar with the place, the fact that he could remember where the hallway to the pediatric unit was, or the fact that he used to visit this hospital more often than he should.

He was here too often.

The thought makes him feel like he can’t breathe— the memory of a young boy telling the nurse— lying that he got into a fight with some friends which resulted in something ugly.

It is beyond unbelievable that those people buy it. Or maybe they didn’t, maybe something like that happened too often to the point that the feeling of sympathy and the need to help a child went numb. Gone. Maybe it happened too often, Maybe that’s why he didn’t even react when he found out that the wife from their case was being abused.
Maybe he went numb like those people.

Seeing it all too much, experienced it all too much.

God, he feels sick.

Without even realizing it, his breath began to tighten, he gasped for air before covering his mouth before realizing that he was crying, oh god— he was being a mess again.

Feeling the tears in his eyes, he tried to wipe it away, destroying the evidence but those tears kept streaming down his face.

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

He told himself repeatedly, please, just stop— It was just a bad memory, why can’t he be normal, why can’t he just— Just breathe like other people?

It hurts, he doesn’t want to be here, why, why, why—

“Ed?” He heard a voice calling out for his name, Jim.

No, no, no, he can’t let Jim or Harvey see him like this, like a pathetic mess.

“J— Jim! I—” he tried to choke something out of his mouth but nothing happened.

He could hear the two men's footsteps walking toward him.

Stop crying, stop being pathetic, stop, stop, stop.

“Ed, hey,” Jim said softly, the man kneeled himself down, looking at Ed, though he did not dare to look at Jim. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond at first, just staring down, he let out another sob before answering.

“...Nothing,” he said weakly.

“It can’t be nothing, Ed— something happened, what was it?” Jim asked, his eyes still bearing on Ed.

“I am just stressed, that’s all,” Ed answered, knowing that he was lying.

“It can’t be just that, Ed please—” Jim pleaded, making Ed feel so pathetic, why does Jim need to care so much?

Before Jim could continue, Harvey interrupted him.

“Jim,” the older man said carefully. “Stop.”

“What—” Jim exclaimed.

“You will make it worse,” he said before grabbing some tissues from the cabinet and giving them to Ed.

With hesitation, Ed grabbed them and silently thanked the man. Ed wiped his tears and snot away, making him feel slightly better.

Jim was silent, then he sighed and gave Harvey a nod.

“Can I touch you?” Jim asked him quietly.

Ed nodded, appreciative that Jim asked first.

Jim slowly puts his hand down and holds Ed’s hand gently, giving it a light squeeze.

“Guess I’ll stay outside,” Harvey said, giving Jim a nod before heading out of the room.

No one said anything, it was just him and Jim who was kneeling down on the floor, holding onto Ed’s hand.

He still doesn’t dare to look at Jim’s face.

Maybe this whole thing was a mistake— the decision to let Jim kiss him, the decision to let him be with other people, the decision to let other people in, sharing a part of him with them.

They now know what a mess he is— God, and what if they know even more? What if they find out about the thing he had done, what if, what if, what if—

What if he does deserve to be alone?

Something had to be done.

Chapter Text

Harvey, and Jim both leave after that since the visiting time was over. Not exactly on bad terms— Jim gives his hand a kiss and apologizes to him for panicking while Ed is not in the best state, telling him that they will visit when they can and Harvey gives him a concerned look and a wave goodbye.

Ed was left to himself, alone in the room, he kept thinking of what had just happened, how Jim sounded so sad and so concerned about him.

Him.

Someone who does not deserve that after the thing he had done.

He told himself that he had to do something.

Something that will decide if he is worthy of love or not. Something that will expose every inch of his ugly scars.

He let out a low groan as he tried to move himself out of the bed, his feet touching the cold floor. The man’s hand reached to open the cabinet right next to the bed, inside, he found pieces of paper and a few pencil sticks.

Perfect.

He grabbed one of the pencils and three pieces of paper. He then puts one of the papers down on the cabinet, while the others are lying on his bed.

‘This is a stupid idea.’

Him again.

‘Of course, who else would it be?’ the voice quipped.

Ed doesn’t care— he’s going through with this plan of his, this plan that will end everything at once.

Despite the voice in his head protesting, he ignored the protest— grabbing a water bottle that Harvey had brought from their lunch, before carefully pouring the water down onto the paper.

Once it is fully submerged in water, he grabs one of the dry paper, placing it on top of the wet one, before grabbing the pencil.

He remembers seeing this trick as a kid— ‘invisible ink’ or so they’re called. Writing a message down on the dry paper, the message will also be transferred to the wet one, waiting for it to dry then re-submerge it in water, and the message will appear again.

It was a nice trick.

‘More like, childish,’ his look-alike scoffed.

At least it is helpful.

“Now shut up,” he muttered to himself and began to write the messages he wanted.

If his calculations were correct, and if this hospital hadn't truly changed in years, the morning would be very busy— with many patients in need of care and only a few staff members, they would notice too late if he were to detach the heart monitor from his body.

The time would be enough for him to change his clothes.

Or if he uses the window to escape.

Of course, his shoulder is still very damaged from the gunshot— but he has been through worse pain.

He let out a sigh, tomorrow everyone will finally know.

Ed writes another letter.

The call came in somewhat around 9 AM.

Jim had left his number for the hospital if something were to happen to Ed since the man seemed to not have any relatives.

The voice of a panicked nurse chirped nervously into Jim’s ear, saying that the patient had escaped from the hospital without anyone noticing.

Ed had escaped.

Ed.

Fuck.

To say that he was pissed would be an understandable statement, because how the hell did they let a patient escape and no one noticed? He knows from his observation that this hospital seems inefficient, with the lack of staff, but he didn’t expect this.

Harvey was with him, well, complaining to one of the staff about how they suck at their job.

Jim quickly observed the room Ed was admitted to. It was empty, he noticed a neatly folded hospital gown lying on the bed. How does the man manage to be neat while trying to escape the hospital?

He shook his head and shifted his gaze to the cabinet, his eyebrows furrowed when he saw two pieces of paper, a water bottle, with crumbled tissues lying around.

“Harvey?” he called out, making Harvey snap his attention to Jim, the man walked toward him leaving the staff.

“Did you find something?” he asked.

“I think…” he mumbled, picking up one of the papers, its texture was rougher, and it was wrinkled as if it had been submerged in water before.

Harvey peeked his head to look at the paper Jim was holding.

“There’s nothing on there,” Harvey said.

“Yeah, but knowing Ed, you think he would really leave without a clue?” Jim retorted. Harvey shrugged and hummed in agreement.

“Fair,” Harvey sighed.

Jim looked at the paper and flicked his gaze down at the cabinet. It has to mean something right? Why would Ed leave it out like this— what did Ed do? Or was this a distraction? Damn it— where did Ed go?

“Holy shit, wait—” Harvey interrupted his thought, snatching the paper from Jim’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked, raising his eyebrow at Harvey.

“Magic trick. I remember seeing ‘em when I was a kid. Shit amazed me, I thought magic was real for a whole week.” Harvey said, then he put the paper down before pouring the water onto it.

Slowly, letters start to fade into the paper until it becomes fully visible.

“Well, hallelujah,” Harvey mumbled, looking down at the paper with curiosity.

Jim fully turns his attention onto the paper and begins to read it.

Down the riddles, there was an address.

“Look where I slumbered…” Harvey read the last sentence out loud.

“Home,” Jim answered, he swiftly turned his back and began to walk away, grabbing the paper with him, before he left, he turned to Harvey. “You are coming?” he asked.

Harvey shakes his head.

“Like I said, the kid is troubled,” Harvey shrugged. “You should be the one to find him.”

Jim looked at Harvey for a moment before giving the man a nod, before heading out.

What’s Ed up to?

Creaking wooden floor, cracks in the wall, and an old dusty empty picture frame. Everything was still the same.

Ed stared at the wall of his childhood home, the paint was falling apart, and the crack was more visible. The furniture looks like it hadn’t been moved in ages, dusty and dirty.

He walks further into the house, into the living room, and sees a television with a broken screen, and stained dirty carpet.

It hasn’t changed at all.

Miserable as they come.

Walking further, he entered the kitchen, most of the utensils were rusted, and he noticed mushrooms that had recently grown in the corner of the room.

The corner he used to sit at when he was a kid, trembling and holding onto his knees while he heard yelling from another room.

Trying to brush the thought, he shook his head and continued to walk further, reaching the door to his backyard.

Ed stepped out, feeling the warm breeze against his hoodie, he took a breath, closing his eyes as runs through the memory he had here.

Stepping onto the neglected grass, which clearly hadn't been tended to in ages, Ed walks toward a tree that had been planted here long before this house stood.

Branches with so many lives are still green as always. It might just be the only thing that’s still alive here.

How hilarious.

A footstep was heard behind him, Ed quickly snapped his head to see Jim standing there, the man was gripping a piece of paper in his hand.

“Jim,” Ed said.

Jim started to walk toward him, the man’s expression was unreadable, Ed could not tell if the man was mad or not, or perhaps he was putting on an intimidating look.

“What’s the meaning of all this Ed?” Jim asked.

“Did you not get the riddle?” Ed tilts his head.

“Home, the answer is home,” Jim replied, the man looked around for a moment before continuing. “You used to live here,” he concluded.

“Correct,” Ed gave him a weak smile that didn't reach the corner of his eyes. He imagined this moment, replayed the moment in his head, but god— he’s still scared.

“But why drag yourself here?” Jim asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re still hurt—”

“I want to tell you something,” Ed said softly, his eyes looking down at the ground.

“Ed, you could just tell me at the hospital or on the phone,” Jim pointed out.

“No,” Ed said suddenly, he looked up at Jim and took a breath. “I need to tell you here, I need to tell you now,” he said. He doesn’t know how desperate he sounds, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. “Please.”

Jim went silent for a moment.

“...Okay,” he said.

Ed took another breath.

God.

“I told you once that I am not the person you think I am,” he said. “You said I am sweet and kind, but you got it all wrong,” he shakes his head.

“And I told you if that’s true, I will get to know you again,” Jim said, trying to step closer to Ed.

“That’s illogical,” Ed stepped back.

“Ed, what—”

“I used to love it here,” Ed interrupted Jim. “The house, it was not the best, but…” Ed trailed off, he didn’t even know what to say even though he's been planning this in his head since last night.

“...Something happened, didn’t it?” Jim asked, his voice was careful, with an edge of concern.

“My family wasn’t the best,” Ed admitted, he looked down to the ground again, his heart racing. “Many years ago I ran away from here,” he confessed.

Jim didn’t say anything, Ed looked up at the man, and he stared at Jim intensely.

“Do you know why, Jim?” he asked with bitterness.

“Why?” Jim asked.

He looked at the man. How brave and daring he is— Ed thinks that one day, his braveness mixed with his stubbornness could get him in so much trouble.

“My father was abusive.” He cut it short, no more riddles, no more implication, just straight up to the problem of all his misery and bitterness.

“He hit my mom, yelled at her, she never tried to fight back, no,” he shakes his head, he remembers how his mother, his kind and loving mother used to be— And how that man, that so-called guardian of his, hit her.

She was so kind, telling Ed that everything would be fine, planting white lies into Ed’s mind, so he doesn’t have to be concerned about her.

He never buys it. He may nod his head, and cuddle against her to find that particular warmth his mother had.

Skin soft despite all the bruises, humming angelic melody into Ed’s ears.

At least, with her, he was safe.

But then everything went to hell when he was eight years old.

“She died from sickness when I was only eight,” he said quietly.

Jim's face softened, a look of sadness and understanding on his face.

“Oh, Ed, I’m sorry—” he said.

Ed needs to close his eyes and take another breath.

“My life with my father was nothing but hell,” he said.

The bruises, the yelling, the alcohol, he thought that he was going to die there at the hand of his father, or… himself.

He doesn’t remember much after the age of ten, when he starts to take control of Ed’s body, with a promise that Ed will be fine and that he wants to help Ed.

There were still scars.

Panic attacks.

Countless nightmares and dissociation.

“It got so bad to the point that I was in the hospital,” his voice was brittle.

Weak and pathetic, that's what he always is.

“That’s why you…” Jim trailed off. “Cried,” Jim finished weakly.

Damn Jim, and damn his soft voice.

“Yes,” Ed nodded.

It was at least three times, three times that no nurses or doctor was concerned about him, or thinking that something more was going on.

“At the age of eighteen years old, I got into a fight with him,” Ed started, his breath felt shaky. “We were in the kitchen, we were arguing about college… then he touched me—”

Voice harsh and loud, alcohol poisoned the man’s mind, he touched his child, ready to raise his fists.

“A knife was near me, so I grabbed it,” Ed’s breath hitched. “I stabbed him.”

He looked Jim dead in the eye trying to read the man's expression. Jim’s mouth was slightly agape, while his eyes stared at Ed, but he couldn’t read what emotion was going through Jim right now, so he decided to spill out more.

“I felt relieved when I stabbed him, Jim,” Ed said.

“It was in self-defense—” Jim retorted.

“I could have been safe after two or three stabs,” Ed pointed out. “I stabbed him eighteen times in the chest,” Ed confessed.

“Ed…” Jim tries to say something but fails.

“After that, I dragged him outside, into the backyard, and buried him here.”

Sounds of the shovel hitting the ground, he could still hear it ringing in his head, a reminder of how dirty he was, covered in mud, covered in dirt, covered in blood.

“After I was done, I felt safe,” he said.

“I ran away from this house, leaving my old life behind, leaving everything that I associated with behind,” Ed continued. “To the neighbors, we moved out, but to me, my father’s dead, and so was I.”

“Edward Nashton,” he blurted out. “That’s my real name. I left him here, dead with my father, then I built a new life, calling myself— lying to myself that I am Edward Nygma,” he gritted his teeth.

Despite everything, he knows so well that he will always be that little pathetic Edward Nashton.

“So now what, Jim?” he asked, feeling so exposed. “I am a killer.”

“No, you’re not—”

“I killed my father,” Ed replied.

“Out of self-defense—” Jim retorted.

“So what? I am still a killer, I killed someone—” Ed could feel his breath getting shakier as his throat tightened “I killed my father—”

“Ed, listen, it doesn’t matter— he hurt you, god, abused you,” Jim said with such disgusted tone.

“And everything is fine?” Ed tilts his head. “You’re a cop, Jim. What would you do to me?” he shot a glance at Jim.

“I won’t do anything to you, Ed!” Jim said he walked closer to Ed, this time Ed didn’t step back. “Please, we can talk about this.”

“We are talking right now,” Ed answered. “I am messed up, Jim. I— I— I have always been, and I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“You are not messed up,” Jim said softly.

“Yes, I am!” He snapped. “I hear a voice, Jim— a voice in my head. That is messed up, isn’t it?” And then the truth was out, every ugly piece that he hid all those years was said out loud.

“Voice?” Jim furrowed his eyebrows.

“I— it’s a mental disorder,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what it is… I never did research, I was too scared to do research, I don’t want to find out I am crazy,” he choked out.

“Ed—”

“So what would it be? Arkham or Blackgate?” he asked.

“Ed, no—”

“It should be Arkham, yes? I mean— I hear voice and, and I killed someone—” Before he could continue, Jim interrupted him

“Ed, please—” he said so desperately, Ed looked into Jim’s eyes, his eyes were so sad, full of pleas.

Ed stopped.

“You’re not going to go to Arkham,” Jim said softly.

“I killed someone,” Ed said again.

“I know,” Jim whispered, he looked down at the ground, before looking back up, his expression was filled with hurt— betrayal? Is it betrayal? He can’t read it, he can’t read what Jim is feeling.

“I… we…” Jim tried to form a sentence but failed. “Please, let’s go back to the hospital with me, we— we can talk about this when you get better.”

Ed didn’t say anything, he just looked at Jim, trying to analyze him, why was he still looking at Ed like that—? Like he cared about Ed, as if he didn’t just confess to Jim that he had killed someone before, or that he heard a voice in his head.

“Please,” Jim begged. “I just want you to be okay right now.”

Ed looks away for a moment, he turns his head to look at the tree and flickers his gaze down at the ground, it does make him feel sick thinking that his father’s body is down there.

“Okay,” he said quietly and nodded his head.

Jim looked relieved, he let out a breath and led Ed outside into the car.

Ed settled himself down and let out a sigh, turning his head to look outside instead.

Jim didn’t say anything all the way back.

Chapter Text

The ride back to the hospital was quiet, nothing but silence, Jim didn’t dare to look at Ed. He grips tightly on the wheel trying to focus on the road ahead, trying not to notice the tension in the car, the guilt, the shock, the truth.

He still can’t process what Ed had just confessed to him— God, he doesn’t know what to even say to Ed. He hated this feeling.

He just looked Ed in the eyes as Ed exposed himself to him, absorbing that information as shock and sadness caused to his veins.

Damn him, and damn the man that hurt his lover.

When they got back, the nurses immediately brought Ed back to his room and checked if he was injured. Jim suspected that they would keep a close eye on Ed from now on.

Jim sees Harvey sitting on one of the waiting chairs, he walks toward the man and slumps himself next to him.

He expected a comment or a question from Harvey, but the man didn’t say anything, he just sat there, next to Jim.

So he decided to break the silence.

“I found him in his childhood home,” Jim started. He remembers zooming through the suburb, looking for the address, his mind worrying about Ed as he grips his wheels so tight.

“Yeah?” Harvey mumbled, his tone sounded dry. “What happened?”

He tried to open his mouth, tried to say something but no word came out— What was he supposed to say? That Ed killed someone? That someone who was supposed to be Ed’s father molded Ed to be so broken? What would Harvey say?

“I— nothing,” he breathed in sharply. “I mean— I don’t know…”

The two of them went silent, Jim didn’t know why Harvey was acting so he glanced to look at the man's expression which was nothing but solemn.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Harvey suddenly said, the statement made Jim’s breath hitch.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I know,” Harvey said.

Jim could feel his face going pale, he avoided eye contact with the other man as he tried to keep a calm demeanor, no, no, no, no— how could Harvey know? He couldn’t have known.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he managed to say, trying to sound calm, but his emotion betrayed him.

Harvey let out a sigh, the man moved his hand to his jacket, grabbed a piece of folded paper, and held it in his hand.

Jim tilts his head as he sees it. A neatly folded paper, it’s definitely not one of the two papers that Ed had put on the cabinet as a clue.

“What—”

“I am a detective for some reason, Jim,” Harvey said, giving the paper to Jim. “The kid’s riddle… the last part didn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked, observing the folded paper, he did not dare to open it.

“Look where I slumbered,” Harvey repeated the clue. “I was confused at first since the riddle seemed to rhyme with each other except for the last part, so I guessed that this was the second one.”

“The second one?” Jim echoed.

“The letter has two riddles, Jim. You solved the first one, and I…” He moved his hand to tap on the folded paper he gave to Jim. “...Solved the second one.”

Look where I slumbered— Jim thought it meant where Ed slept, it indicates home, but—

“The patient’s bed,” Jim breathed.

“Yup,” Harvey shrugged, he relaxed his body against the seat. “Found it right under the pillow… You should read it.”

Jim hesitated, he looked at Harvey, but the man only gave him a nod, encouraging him to read it.

Jim sighed, opening the folded paper, the first thing Jim noticed was the title of the paper— ‘A Confession of a ‘Good Man.’

Fuck.

Merriam-Webster defines "good" as "of a favorable character or tendency." By the definition, I am not a good man, for I have done terrible things, and this is my confession.

My real name is Edward Nashton, I changed it to Edward Nygma when I was eighteen years of age. At that point in my life, I had run away from my childhood home because it was abusive. My father abused my mother and me to the point that my mind finally broke.

I would go to school bruised. It got so bad to the point that I had to go to the hospital at least a few times.

I hated him, No, I hate him— with every fiber of my being.

I killed that man at the age of eighteen years old. We I stabbed him eighteen times in the chest, then dragged his bloody body and buried him under the tree of my childhood home.

And the worst part of all of it, in that moment, the moment I stabbed him, dragged him, and buried him, the feeling of relief rushed into my veins.

I am glad I killed him.

After everything I had done, my hands are dirty, and covered in blood, I cannot lie to myself or others anymore, I cannot deceive them, and hide who I really am. It can be concluded that I am not a good man.

And this is my confession to my little world.

Signed,

Edward Nygma.

Jim's hands shakes as he reads the letter, reeling back to the memory of Ed telling him everything, how Ed looked so sad, so panicked, making Jim just want to hold him and take all that pain away, giving Ed love instead.

“Damn it, Ed,” he said, hands clutching onto the letter.

“Confession letter,” Harvey said when Jim finished reading it. “He probably thinks that this could be used as evidence to put him in… Arkham.”

Arkham.

That name makes Jim’s heart drop, and his breath becomes shaky. He can’t even force himself to imagine Ed in Arkham— They would treat him terribly. It’s not a secret that Arkham is inefficient, anyone who looked at the asylum would know from the moment their eyes laid upon that deteriorating.

“No,” Jim blurted out. “I can’t—” he shakes his head.

Jim sighed, putting his face against his hand. He feels so weak, he doesn’t know how to help Ed, so god damn useless when the one he loves needs him the most, and all he could do when Ed confessed his guts out to him?

Stand there like a goddamn idiot like he is.

While Ed was thinking that he deserved Arkham.

“I don’t know what to do, Harvey,” he admitted weakly.

“The kid needs help, help that we, nor Arkham can provide,” Harvey pointed out, his tone cautious and careful.

Jim can’t help but wonder what went through Harvey’s head the first time he opened that letter, was he shocked? Sad? Disappointed?

“He thinks he deserves it,” Jim mumbled.

He can’t even bring himself to think that Ed, the man who was so sweet, so kind, caring, and only wanted to help would think that he deserved Arkham when Ed had helped so many lives with his intellect.

No one deserves Ed, not even the world, and not even Jim.

God.

“Then you prove to him that he deserves better than that,” Harvey retorted.

“How would I even do that?” he asked with a brittle voice.

Harvey shifted himself to look at Jim, and he sighed.

“You love him, yeah?” Harvey asked.

Jim went quiet for a moment, he put his hands down, his eyes now looking at the hospital floor, his mind dancing around every moment he had with Ed, every interaction, every case they worked together, every riddle the man had given him.

Every smile he had given Jim.

He wanted to see that smile again and wished for it to last forever.

Wished for Ed to be happy, and experience warmth, because that is what Ed deserves, because Ed was one of the good things left in this hell hole.

“I do,” Jim answered. “I love him, I think I always did.”

Harvey nodded, and the man let out a hum.

“Your heart is in the right place, Jim,” Harvey said.

“Thanks, Harvey,” he said, looking at the other man who just shrugged the gratitude off like it was nothing.

“Just sayin’ the truth,” he said. “Besides, the kid needs someone that cares about him.”

“You are also that someone,” Jim pointed out.

“Yeah? Well..” He nodded his head. “Still got a lot of amends to make,” he said solemnly.

They told him that the nurses would come more frequently now to check his status, the window was locked, and he couldn’t open it anymore. Why don’t they just plaster a poster of his face around the building just in case?

‘Do you have any idea what you did!?’

He made a confession.

‘No, you are ruining our life,’ the voice snapped.

They deserve to know.

Ed shifts himself, trying to relax on the bed, for now, all he can do is wait. The letter beneath his pillow was gone, which means Harvey got the second puzzle correct, which mean—

‘He read the damn confession,’ his lookalike concluded, his tone alarmed.

Yes, as he planned.

‘They are going to put us in Arkham,’ the voice argued with Ed.

Maybe they deserve it, maybe Ed deserves it.

To be locked in the asylum with other inmates for the dirty sin he had committed, to be punished like how his father used to punish Ed with his fist.

He imagines a look of disgust from Jim and Harvey— trying to brace himself for whatever will happen next in the future.

He keeps telling himself that he is ready to look at them, ready for the hatred, ready to be despised.

But, oh, how it hurts to imagine their face. The faces of someone who at least cares about him, someone who is willing to deal with his mess. It hurts, it hurts so bad that Ed wants to sob, but he feels so numb from today.

But he deserved it, didn’t he?

‘Stop thinking you deserve it, damn it! What’s wrong with you!?’

Everything. He was weird, a freak. Abnormal. Maybe the whispering of his co-workers was right after all.

More reasons why he deserves to be in Arkham.

‘You are a goddamn idiot, we are supposed to be smart, damn it!’

‘We won’t survive at Arkham, you won’t.’

Ed knew that it was not a taunt, but it did sound like it— He always knew that his lookalike was always stronger than him. Mentally and physically, keeping him safe from everything.

Even the bullet from that day, though it was Ed who jumped over to protect Jim, Ed figured that the moment he felt such pain and panic, it was his lookalike in control.

And if they can’t survive in Arkham— they can always adjust, Ed can always adjust. He adjusts to the pain from his father before, the numbing feeling, the nightmare, pretending it all was fine, he can do that in Arkham.

His train of thought was interrupted by a noise of the door opening, its creaks made Ed shot his eyes to see—

Jim.

So the man had finally decided.

Jim looked tired— maybe he shouldn't have given the riddles, it just made the man more tired. God, now he feels guilty about that too, he could not control himself, could he? The need to make everything a puzzle and a mystery.

“Jim,” Ed said, his voice weak.
Despite being scared of what would happen to him next, he still looked Jim straight in the eyes, waiting for his judgment.

Jim looked down to the ground for a moment, the man closed his eyes, before looking back up at Ed.

He closed the door behind them.

“We need to talk.”

Ed gripped his mattress, he could feel his chest tightened, the voice inside his head telling him to run, to do something but he refused. He won’t run, he will hear what Jim will say, and he will brace for what will happen in the future.

He hopes he is ready.

Chapter Text

Jim was feeling nervous— He was standing in front of Ed. His lover. He tried to observe Ed’s expression, although he was far away, he could see that Ed was also nervous.

There are so many things that need to be said, god.

He approached Ed, pulling a chair to sit down next to Ed.

“Hey,” he started, his voice soft and careful, Jim’s eyes flickering to look at Ed’s left shoulder which is still covered in bandages. “How… are you feeling?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ed said abruptly, making Jim look back at Ed’s face.

“Do what?” Jim asked.

“Worry about me,” he said, softly his face dropped down to the mattress, and the man pursed his lips before continuing. “I would like to get to the point.”

“Ed—” Jim sighed and shook his head. “I asked because I care,” he answered.

Ed pauses for a moment, his eyes still dropping low, making Jim wonder what’s going through Ed’s head right now.

“It hurt less than the other day,” he answered.

Jim nodded his head, relieved that at least the pain had lessened— He was so worried when Ed escaped from here, with the damn gunshot wound still hurting his shoulder and arm, thinking that something worse would happen to Ed.

“That’s good, Ed,” Jim said.

The room went silent, nobody dared to speak— Jim didn't even know where to start, there were so many things he wanted to ask Ed, so many questions that would just bring out more questions than answers.

"Are you going to send me to Arkham?” Ed said abruptly.

“No,” Jim quickly rescinded.

Ed shifts his gaze to look at Jim, the man tilts his head as he seems to be analyzing Jim.

“Why not?” Ed asked, the tone was… more of a demand than a question. Demanding why, why wouldn’t lock Ed up, why wouldn’t a cop lock up a killer?

“...I can't,” Jim answered, his voice quiet.

“Why can’t you?” Ed asked again.

“Because you don’t deserve that, Ed—” He argued, why can’t Ed see it? Why can’t Ed realize that he does not deserve to be in a place such as Arkham, god, they will treat him so horribly.

“But I killed someone,” Ed argued back.

“Someone that has hurt you,” Jim pointed out. “Damn it, Ed, why don’t you understand—”

“I understand,” Ed shot a glance at him. “I understand that I murdered someone, and I was happy about it, doesn’t that make me a monster, Jim?”

“You are not a monster,” Jim said, shaking his head. “Ed, listen, please—” He tried to move his hand to Ed but Ed shifted himself away.

“I am,” he said quietly. “I am messed up, I hear voices in my head, I am abnormal.”

With such a cold and bitter tone from Ed, Jim couldn’t help but wonder how many times someone has told that to Ed— It makes his hands curl up into a fists just thinking about that.

“Stop saying that,” Jim shakes his head. “Please… you aren’t abnormal,” he said softly, begging Ed to stop hurting himself with those vile, poisonous words.

“Then what am I, if I am not abnormal?” Ed dared. “Insane?”

Jim shook his head, he looked down for a moment before flickering his gaze back into Ed’s eyes.

“You are a survivor,” he said softly

Ed didn’t respond to that statement, he just looked at Jim with such confusion in his eyes, making Jim just want to hug Ed and repeat to him over and over that he’s not a monster, he’s not a monster, he’s the sweetest person Jim had ever laid his eyes upon.

“You are… someone who has been through something so traumatic,” Jim decided to continue. “And you shouldn’t be put inside Arkham because of that.”

Ed shook his head.

“I lied to you,” Ed retorted.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Ed,” Jim said in a serious tone.

“But I—” Ed breathed in sharply. “I lied to you about who I was.”

“You are protecting yourself…” Jim quipped. “And I don’t think you lied to me,” he added, making Ed look at him in surprise.

“Yes, I did— You thought I was—”

“Sweet and kind?” Jim asked. “I still think that… I still think that you are the sweetest person I’ve ever met and the kindest.” He tried to touch Ed’s hand again, but this time Ed didn’t move away. “That will never change.”

“How could you still say that?” Ed questioned with a surprised tone, He looked away from Jim with a distressed look on his face.

“Because I love you,” Jim said softly, squeezing Ed’s hand. “You are worth it.” He added.

“Even if I am messed up in the head?” he asked.

“You said it was a mental disorder, right?” Jim said, he paused for a moment— getting treatment would be hard, whatever Ed had… Arkham couldn’t provide that help. “It will be hard getting help… but I want to try finding a way.”

Ed only shakes his head dismissively.

“Whatever help you are going to get me— they are going to view me as a guinea pig for them to study,” Ed retorted.

He was right— Gotham is a goddamn hellhole full of deranged people with no remorse, he knows that, but there has to be a way.

There must be a way.

“I need to try,” Jim answered, giving Ed’s hand another light squeeze. “Can you tell me your condition? It’s okay if you don’t want to now… but I want to help somehow,” he offered.

Ed didn’t say anything, he was hesitating— his lips sealed shut, scared of how Jim would react, god, Jim wanted to tell Ed so badly that he wouldn't look at Ed any differently.

Ed sighed in defeat.

“I told you… I heard a voice in my head, it’s… it’s not just some voice— I can picture what he looks like,” Ed explained. “And he’s like this… stronger version of me that helped me when everything was getting… too much.”

“Helped you when everything was getting too much?” he repeated curiously.

“It’s like I have another person in my body,” he admitted, sounding weak. “He… We… have different likes and dislikes, even different personalities—” Ed took a deep breath.

“You’re doing good,” Jim said.

“He takes control sometimes,” Ed said. “And sometimes I can hear him in the back of my head, sometimes it’s faint, like a whisper, sometimes I can hear it clearly, sometimes I can’t hear him at all.”

“Can you hear him right now?” Jim asked.

Ed paused before answering.

“Yes,” he said.

“What is he saying to you?”

“...He’s saying that this is a bad idea,” Ed frowned. “And that we would end up in Arkham.”

“You won’t.” Jim refused to let Ed go to a place like that.

“You don’t think I am insane?” Ed asked, his voice quiet as if he was ashamed.

“No,” Jim shakes his head. “I… I don’t understand what you are going through but… I want to,” he said softly. “I want to understand you.”

Ed shakes his head and looks away again.

“Let me help you,” Jim said

Ed shut his eyes closed, avoiding Jim’s face.

“Please,” he begged.

“I don’t understand you at all,” Ed finally blurted out. “After all I had done—”

“I don’t care, Ed,” Jim shifts his chair, so he can be closer to Ed. “I love you, I love you so much.”

Ed still hadn’t turned his face back to Jim, so Jim waited patiently, holding Ed’s hand onto his, not wanting to let go. He could hear Ed’s breath hitch before Ed squeezed Jim’s hand back.

“I love you too,” Ed choked out.

Jim's gaze softened, he took Ed’s hand and began to plant kisses on the man’s knuckles.

A promise to never let Ed go.

Jim kissed his hand with such gentle care as if he was the most important person in the whole world, the man continued to hold Ed’s hand as they stayed in silence.

Why did Ed feel so much lighter?

Jim was asked by the nurse to leave the room not long afterward so they could do some check-ups on Ed’s wound and how he was doing physically.

‘Can we really trust him?’ his look-alike asked.

He… doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to answer because he doesn’t know why Jim doesn’t hate him or why Jim won’t put him in Arkham.

Why doesn’t Jim see him as a freak?

Because Jim loved him… the man would say, he would kiss Ed and tell him how much he loved him, the thought even made him feel flustered.

‘Does he really love you?’

Ed wanted to believe that— after all the man had done for him… maybe Jim did love him.

After the nurses were done checking on him, Ed let out a sigh and tried to relax on the bed once again, today did not… go as expected.

He didn’t expect Jim to react like that.

God.

‘What if this is a trick.’

“It isn’t,” Ed mumbled, though there was a part of him that did think all of this was one big lie, part of him that believed that Jim was lying to him but— god, the way he looked at Ed with such concern, and worry, Jim’s hand holding on to Ed as if he needed Ed so bad.

He wanted to believe that, but Jim's actions said otherwise.

Ed snapped out of his thought when he heard a creak at the door, he turned to look at it, expecting it to be Jim on the other side, but it was Harvey instead.

“Christ, someone needs to oil this damn thing up,” Harvey said as he gets in, he looked at Ed for a moment before walking toward him. “Hey, kid.”

“...Hi,” he answered weakly.

He didn’t prepare for this— He was so focused on Jim that he forgot that Harvey found that confession letter.

He let out a breath.

“You clear things up with the boy scout?” Harvey asked casually as if he didn’t find the letter, as if he didn’t read it.

“Yes…” he answered nervously.

“Good,” Harvey nodded.

“It..is..?” Ed tilts his head.

“Yeah, glad you cleared things out with him,” Harvey shrugged.

Why is the man acting so casually, what is he thinking, why doesn’t he say anything about the letter? Surely He has read it. He finds it right? Why doesn’t Harvey seem angry or anything?

What's Ed going to say now? Think, think, think—

“Here,” Harvey suddenly said, pulling out a folded paper from his pocket, he held it in front of Ed. “Special delivery.”

Ed sits up straight, looking down at the paper— that’s his letter, his confession letter. He blinked.

“I don’t understand…” he said

“I’m giving it back,” Harvey said. “It belongs to you, yeah?”

Ed slowly grabs the paper from Harvey, gripping it tightly as he looks down at the paper, he opens it to see his handwriting and his confession, his signature at the bottom. So Harvey has read it.

Harvey had read the things he had done, his deception, his lies, everything on this paper, Harvey had read it, so why—

“You are not using it?” Ed asked, looking up at the other man who was standing next to him.

“No,” Harvey shook his head.

“Why?” Ed asked weakly, why indeed? Why wouldn’t Harvey use this— It has his handwriting, his signature, every detail, why, why why—

“Because you were just a kid,” Harvey answered so simply.

“Oh,” he exclaimed softly. It was such a simple word, he was just a kid but when the older man said it— it made him feel so comforted. He was just a kid when everything went downhill for him. He was just a kid. “I—” He wanted to say something, but all that came out was his shaky breath and a sob.

Harvey swung his arm and pulled Ed’s head to rest against Harvey’s body, Ed let out another sob before burying his head into the man’s coat.

And he cried his heart out.

Chapter Text

It has been a month since Ed was granted permission to leave the hospital, there was physical therapy of course, at least 2 times a week— he still couldn't go back to work, he tried to ask Captain Essen to let him get back to work, but she refused.

Fair, he supposed.

So most of the time he just stays inside his apartment, watching countless TV shows or inaccurate sci-fi movies.

Jim… tries to visit him every time he can, the man greets him with a treat in his hand and a small smile that he likes to give Ed. It was really nice to look at that sight— the gruff, scary detective softening for him.

Even sweeter, Jim has been doing research on his condition. Just yesterday, he came
in with a stack of paper in the morning before his shift, which made Ed really confused.

“What’s this?”

He asked the man what the papers were, tilting his head, and looking down at the stack of paper. He doubts that Jim will bring him work since when he tries to ask if he can help with anything, Jim keeps telling him that he needs to rest.

“It’s… research papers, I printed them out from the library,” Jim answered with a smile.

Turns out it was research on his mental disorder, Jim even highlighted the important part for Ed.

“Oh, Jim— I… you don’t have to do that,” he said, surprised by the man's action, he grabbed the paper from Jim, looking at it.

Jim takes his time and researches his mental condition— and even highlights it.

“I told you I want to help you in any way I could… I still can’t find a good therapist so…” he trailed off.

“Thank you,” he smiled back at Jim, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Jim grinned, Ed noticed that the man’s cheeks had reddened

“No problem,” he clears his throat and turns his face away for a moment. “Harvey and I will see you tonight, yeah?” Jim asked for reassurance

“Yes— of course,” he nodded his head. “Oh— you’ll be late for work, you should get going,” he pointed out, hugging the papers in his arms.

“Not even a kiss goodbye?” Jim asked teasingly.

“Yes, yes, yes, how could I forget?” he said with an amused tone before the other man leaned upward to kiss him.

Ed reciprocates the kiss gently.

“See you tonight,” the man whispered before he started walking away giddily.

After Jim left, Ed buried his face against those papers. How did he deserve that man again? God, he could feel the blush fading onto his cheek.

He slumped himself on the couch, and looked down at the paper once again, at first he hesitated to read it, but then he took a deep breath— Jim did it for him, he should read it.

Dissociative Identity Disorder.

That's what they called it.

‘DID is usually caused by past trauma.’

There are actually a lot of people who are just like Ed, that fact does make him feel more… validated. Interestingly, these alter— that’s what they are called. Usually, the alters have names, perhaps they should come up with one.

‘I already like the name, Ed,' his look-alike, well— alter chimed in.

But that’s Ed’s name, surely they can come up with a new one.

‘Ugh, you know I hate change,’ his alter said. Ed could imagine the other man rolling his eyes at Ed.

But it can get confusing over time— how about something similar to Ed?

‘Examples?’

How about Eddie? It is very similar to Ed.

‘Huh,’ his alter exclaimed. ‘Fine, I can get used to that,’ Eddie said.

Ed hummed in satisfaction, he flicked his eyes up to look at the time, oh, dear— it seems he has been reading the research paper for longer than he had expected, he was supposed to prepare a treat for tonight.

Ed got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen.

He scrambled inside the cabinet, trying to find the ground cinnamon.

Now where did he put it?

‘You’re such a goner.’

Shush, he’s trying to bake.

The sky was getting dark, Ed stood near the window watching the chaotic city he called home, waiting for both Jim and Harvey to get here.

This is more stressful than he thought. Hopefully, he had picked the right movie for them to watch, and the right treat. The man then starts to pace around the room as he waits for the two detectives— What if they don’t like it? Oh dear, he hoped that wouldn’t happen.

Stop, he’s overthinking.

Ed let out a sigh, trying to regain his composure.

A knock at the steel door was heard, making Ed snapped his attention to where the sound was coming from.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, it seems that both the detectives are here. He quickly jogged to the door and slid it open to see the two men standing in front of him.

“Hey, Ed,” Jim greeted him with a small smile, while Harvey gave him a wave.

“Please come in,” Ed said, shifting himself to let the two men in. “How was your day?” he asked as both the men got inside.

“Ugh, don't even mention it,” Harvey groans and slumps himself on the sofa, making Jim grin while Ed tilts his head curiously.

“We were investigating the John Doe case from that sewer tunnel again,” Jim said, settling himself down on the middle of the couch.

“Oh? Did you find anything new? Maybe I could help—” He follows both of the men and sits down beside Jim.

“Ed, you still need to rest,” Jim pointed out, making Ed pout. He could still move his arms, why couldn’t he help?

“Did anyone not hear me when I said I didn’t want to talk about it?” Harvey chipped in.

“We hear you, Harvey,” Jim said, before turning his attention back to Ed. “We went back for further investigation, and Harvey tripped down into the water.”

“Oh!” Ed exclaimed before his face scrunched up, the smell, the texture, the grease and oil, the solid waste. “That’s unfortunate…”

“My favorite goddamn coat,” Harvey groaned dramatically, and Jim needed to stifle a laugh.

“Did you fall on your back or on your face?” Ed asked.

“Does that matter? My favorite coat smells like shit!” the older man exclaimed.

“Yes, I imagine it would smell like that,” Ed said. “And it does matter, you could get an infection,” Ed pointed out.

“He fell on his back,” Jim answered for Ed.

“Hey!” Harvey suddenly exclaimed, he raised a finger and pointed at Jim threateningly. “Watch it, Boy Scout.”

Jim only gave him a smirk before shrugging his shoulders. Ed grinned slightly at the reaction.

“Oh, well if you fall on your back you don’t have to worry about mouth and eye infection then!” Ed said. “Though if we are to talk about ear infections…”

“Nope, nope,” Harvey said, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t worrying about that today, my day is already ruined,” he said, resting his head on the top of the couch.

“Well, would it be better if I offered you a treat I made?” Ed said, standing up from the couch, and walking toward his kitchen once again.

“I’m listening,” Harvey quickly sits up straight and shoots his attention to Ed.

“You made something?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Ed confirmed, he opened his fridge to pull out a plate of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. “Cinnamon rolls!” He said excitedly, walking back toward the two men he put down the plates on the table in front of them with a proud look on his face.

“Holy shit, thank Christ, my prayer was heard,” Harvey said, looking at the four cinnamon rolls in front of him.

Ed grinned and gave each of the men a fork, he then turned his head to Jim.

“I told you I would bake them for you, so I did,” he said.

Jim smiled, the man's gaze softened as his cheek began to show a tint of red. No matter how many times Ed sees that— he will always think it was so endearing.

“You remember, huh?” Jim asked softly.

“Of course, I do!” he said before cutting a piece of it with his fork and holding it toward Jim’s lips. “Try it and tell me how it tastes?” he asked.

Jim blushed, the man pursed his lips before eating the small piece of cinnamon rolls from Ed’s fork.

“It’s… very good, Ed,” he said, trying to hide a smile, Ed smiled back in satisfaction knowing that Jim liked it.

“I feel like I’m third wheelin’ here,” Harvey suddenly said with an unamused tone. “Aw, hey, you got the meanie detective to blush, kid,” Harvey pointed out.

Ed blinked and turned to look at Jim to see that the man had blushed harder.

“Oh—” Ed choked out, feeling himself also getting flustered at the sight.

“Just eat your cinnamon rolls, Harv,” Jim grumbled, giving Harvey a look.

Harvey shrugged before cutting a piece from one of the cinnamon rolls and shoved in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” the older man exclaimed dramatically, Harvey then proceeded to close his eyes and let out a sigh. “Kid, you are now my favorite person,” he said, taking another bite. “No offense, Jim.”

“Whatever,” Jim grumbled.

“Oh! Well…. I am honored?” Ed smiled sheepishly at the compliment.

They continued to eat their cinnamon rolls. It was very pleasant, both of the men seemed to enjoy his baking skill. He had to admit that the compliments did boost his ego a little bit.

They discussed work and as much as Harvey doesn’t want to talk about it because quote-unquote ‘it will make his veins finally pop and he will haunt both Jim and Ed when he dies’— Jim gives him an update on how GCPD is doing anyway. Apparently, there was a new forensic scientist who had come to help GCPD while Ed was gone. The man was very helpful, or so Jim said.

“His name’s Lucius Fox,” Jim said. “You’re gonna like him,” he added.

“Really…?” As much as Ed wanted to believe that, his experience with other co-workers still leaves him with some doubt.

“He’s a full-on nerd like you, kid, you two are going to get along just fine,” Harvey said reassuringly.

“Hm,” Ed hummed. “Well, in that case, I look forward to it,” he smiles.

The rest of the night was spent by them watching a terrible sci-fi movie that Ed had, while Ed pointed out all the flaws of the movie.

He caught Jim looking at him once in a while as he explained why the logic of the movie they were watching was wrong, and the way Ed looked at him was… nothing but softness, the man would glance at Ed, hiding a smile with his hand, listening to Ed carefully.

He looks at Ed with such adoration and endearment in his eyes, and Ed is left wondering how could Jim look at him with such love.

“I don’t get it, why do they want to make zombies?” Harvey said, narrowing his gaze as they watched the film.

“The main character wants to destroy the concept of death,” Ed answered. “Which is, of course, impossible.”

Harvey chuckled and shook his head.

“Wanna bet that this could happen in Gotham?” the older man asked.

“Don’t even jinx it,” Jim warned.

“What? Just saying,” Harvey raised his hands up in the air.

Ed grinned at the moment, it felt so nice, and so light, as if finally, he was somewhere he belonged, after feeling like an abnormality for so long, feeling like he was alone in this mess.

He felt at home.

After they finished watching the movie, the three men discussed what they were going to do next, Harvey said that he probably should leave now, since he was feeling tired and wanted to slump himself down on his bed, and Jim said that he would stay with Ed for a while.

Ed gave Harvey the leftover cinnamon rolls and waved Harvey goodbye. The man nodded and said his goodbye to both Jim and Ed.

“Don’t get all hanky panky when I am gone,” Harvey said jokingly, and Ed almost choked on air.

“Harvey!” Jim called out, but by that time Harvey had already closed the steel door and left.

Jim sighed and rubbed his face, while Ed stood there with a flustering face.

“You okay, Ed?” Jim asked.

“Oh— I’m fine, I was just caught off guard by… that,” he chuckled sheepishly.

“He’s going to be the death of us, one of these days,” Jim sighed.

“Or the opposite,” Ed offered, and Jim laughed.

“Yeah,” he nodded his head. “Probably the opposite.”

They laughed, Ed shook his head and grabbed the empty plate that was dirty with cinnamon roll crumbs and its glaze.

“I probably should wash this,” Ed said he was about to walk to the kitchen before Jim stopped him. He tilted his head as he looked down at Jim.

“Let me wash it for you,” he offered, grabbing the plate from Ed.

“That’s very nice of you, but you don’t really have to,” Ed smiled slightly.

“You are still injured, Ed, it’s best for me to wash it,” Jim pointed out, as he walked to the kitchen. Ed frowned and followed Jim to the kitchen as well.

“I have been going to physical therapy, Jim,” he argued. “And it has been one month, you are being overprotective,” Ed quipped.

“Well, I want to protect my boyfriend, can’t I do that?” Jim asked, turning on the sink, and watching as the water ran through the dirty plate.

“It’s just one plate,” Ed mumbled, he could feel himself blushing again. “But you have a point, I suppose.”

Jim grinned and leaned upward to give Ed a peck on the cheek making Ed smile. Ed waited as Jim washed the plate, his eyes flickering to the drawer near the kitchen, the man reached his hand to open it. He picked up a neatly folded paper that was slightly wrinkled.

He pursed his lips and opened the letter to be met with a familiar title.

A Confession of a ‘Good Man’

Memory washed over him, the past month, so many had happened so fast, the nightmares, the bar, the childish Pokemon game he played with Jim, how Jim kissed him with a promise to never let Ed go, the hospital visit, the secrets that he had buried inside of him for so long being shared, Harvey telling him that he was just a kid.

And it happened just one month ago.

It is fascinating how time works, isn’t it?

“Ed?” Jim called for him, making Ed snapped out of the thought. Ed turns his head to see that Jim has finished washing the plate.

The man's eyes flickered down to the paper Ed was holding.

Jim walked over to him and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the paper.

“You’re still keeping that?” Jim asked.

“Well…” Ed pursed his lips. “I actually want to destroy it… but I am not ready yet,” Ed said softly. “This letter has a part of me in it, and I don’t know if I am ready to let that part of me go.”

A letter that reminds him of what he used to be, which is something that is the opposite of good— He knows, he knows that Jim and Harvey would say otherwise, but sometimes he still believes that he’s not a good man.

So until he finally moves on from that mentality, he will still keep this letter, waiting for the day he can burn it as he watches that ugly thought burn together with it as well.

Jim looked at Ed with a soft look, he nodded in understanding.

“This will be a… hard journey for me,” Ed said softly. “But I am glad that you and Harvey are here.”

Jim smiled, and he wrapped his arms around Ed’s shoulder gently.

“I will always be here for you,” he whispered as he looked into Ed’s eyes.

Ed smiled, and he wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he whispered back.

“I would never,” Jim said, leaning up to kiss Ed, he kissed Ed gently, and Ed kissed him back, careful and softly, wanting to savour the moment.

Finally, Jim pulled out from the kiss, he smiled at Ed, before resting his head against Ed’s chest.

“Because you are worth knowing,” Jim said softly, and Ed couldn’t be more happy.

He holds Jim close to him, as they enjoy the silence of the night.

“Hey,” Jim said quietly, looking up at Ed.

“Hm?” Ed hummed.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, grabbing Ed's wrist gently and leading him to the bed, Jim gave him a quick kiss before pulling both of them into the bed, making Ed let out a small surprise yelp, making Jim let out a giggle.

Ed pouted at the man for a moment before letting out a giggle of his own.

Jim kissed Ed’s forehead, and Ed leaned down to nuzzle Jim’s neck, both of them still laughing from happiness.

“Thank you for coming into my life,” Ed said quietly, burying himself into Jim.
Jim strokes Ed’s hair and wraps his arms around another man.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Jim said softly before giving his forehead another kiss. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Ed smiled.

And in that moment, he knows that they are going to be okay.