Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was no secret that Gotham had one of the highest crime rates in the world, and Jim had known this when he arrived, had of course expected the job to be hard, but he had thought the hardest part would be having to face the rampant corruption in the GCPD, or having to talk down some maniac with a machine gun and a building full of hostages.

He had not expected the hardest part to be the amount of overtime he had to put in.

Most crime that came through the precinct was in some way linked with one of the major crime families and as such, were snapped up by one of the corrupt officers, which was pretty much any of the other officers. As such, any case that went to Jim was one which was either too big to be swept under the rug, or too strange and complex to be neatly attributed to one of the crime families and therefore, none of the officers in said families’ pockets wanted them. And the more complex the case, the longer it took to solve it, and as the precinct’s resident stick-in-the-mud, Jim had little room to make mistakes or take too long to solve anything. So overtime and all-nighters became his bread and butter, and he frequently found himself working a case while other GCPD employees were out and about, leading normal civilian lives, separate lives from their work ones.

Jim had never been great at that particular distinction. With almost no personal life to speak of, save a few trips to the bar with Harvey, he threw himself into his work, taking on more and more cases until they were all that he thought about, all that was important to him.

It was on one of these such cases that everything changed, that for a brief period in time he lent his focus to something other than work.

The case itself had been nothing too special, long certainly, arduous of course, but nothing too life threatening or mentally taxing. It was simply one of those cases that no one else wanted, and so it ended up on Jim’s desk. Two days, and an obscene amount of coffee, later, and Jim, with Harvey at his side, was still working the case. It was a weekend, which was the only time when they could speak to a specific witness, as he ran a stall in the local farmer’s market (something Jim didn’t even know existed until recently – apparently it was only known by the upper class of Gotham who could afford fourteen dollar apples) and had no stable place of residence that they could find.

So here they were, with Jim’s breath reeking of the coffee he had been chugging, and Harvey ever so slightly buzzed as he usually was, making their way through a crowd of Gotham’s upper class, past colourful stalls peddling exotic fruit, artisan wines, and the world’s most expensive cheese. Their witness had turned out to be a dud, but they’d gotten a new lead from him, and Harvey had gotten more than his fair share of free samples, so it wasn’t a total loss. If he was totally honest with himself, Jim felt incredibly out of place there. This sort of thing had been more of Barbara’s scene, back before she had gone off the rails, but he was able to take some comfort in the fact that Harvey was even more out of place here than he was. In fact, he couldn’t imagine anyone at the GCPD fitting in at this place.

It was exactly as he thought this that the universe saw fit to slap him in the face.

Because, as he tried to wrestle his way through the crowds of people, he managed to collide with none other than Edward Nygma. He was dressed far differently to how he did at the precinct: gone were the starched suits and dull green ties, and in their place was a soft looking cashmere sweater in a deep forest green, with a creamy collared shirt underneath and a pair of perfectly fitted black slacks. It looked so obviously expensive and yet eminently tasteful. In the collision, Ed almost dropped the bottle of wine he had been carrying. It was from one of the stalls they had passed by earlier, the one with prices that had made Harvey whistle low and declare, “Must be nice.”

Luckily, he caught the bottle before it hit the ground, sighing in relief and straightening up to greet Jim. “Detectives! What a lovely surprise. What brings you to the market?” Both Harvey and Jim considered this a question they should be asking Ed rather than vice versa. After all, it was no secret that forensic technicians only made minimum wage. It wasn’t that much better for detectives but there was still a significant difference and even then, Jim and Harvey couldn’t afford to buy anything from the market.

He couldn’t help the questioning tone as he said, “We’re on a case. What are you doing here, Ed?” Ed raised an eyebrow at this and held up the bottle by way of explanation.

“Shopping?” he said. Jim forced an awkward chuckle and did his best to keep making small talk while he speculated in his head about where Ed had gotten the money for any of this. Who knew – maybe he’d just gotten lucky at a thrift store, or had been sent out to buy the wine by someone who had offered to pay him a few bucks in exchange, as though he were a street urchin in a Dickens story. He was so engrossed in keeping up conversation and speculating in his mind that he failed to notice one glaring detail of Ed’s appearance.

Harvey, who never bothered to talk with Ed more than he considered necessary, had no such issues, and was eyeing Ed up like a shark, taking in every minute detail. This combined with his lack of filter resulted in him blurting out quite suddenly,

“Is that a ring?”

Jim looked down to where Harvey was, helpfully, pointing and sure enough, there on Ed’s finger was a tasteful gold band with a purple stone embedded in it that was just small enough not to be totally gaudy. To Jim and Harvey’s surprise, Ed, who was normally awkward and stilted in conversation, took the focal shift in stride and affirmed that, yes, it was indeed a ring. He displayed his hand cheerfully so that the detectives could get a better look. Despite knowing little about jewellery, both Jim and Harvey took a long look at the ring: it, like the rest of his outfit – and the bottle of wine he was carrying – was clearly expensive, and Jim once again found himself wondering how Ed could afford such luxury items on his meagre salary. It also struck him as odd that the stone in the ring was purple, given that Ed had always seemed to favour green, at least if the ties he wore to work every day and the sweater he was wearing now were any indication. Fleetingly, he wondered if Ed was secretly rich and just worked at the precinct for fun, but quickly dismissed the thought; with the way Ed was treated by the officers at the precinct, he’d have to be crazy or a masochist to stay there willingly.

Once again, while Jim was off in his own world, speculating about what could possibly be going on with Ed, Harvey came to another simple yet significant conclusion.

“Wait, you’re married?” Jim startled at that, before looking back to Ed’s displayed hand and realising that, yes, the ring was on Ed’s ring finger and was therefore probably not just a strange fashion statement, and in fact, a wedding ring.

Ed looked slightly confused. “Yes? Did I not tell you?” He definitely hadn’t, and Jim thought he caught a little glint of amusement in his eyes. He ignored it for now and said, “Must’ve missed it. You don’t wear your ring to work?”

Ed held his hands up, palms facing them, and wiggled his fingers, “Gotta wear gloves for forensics and I really don’t want to lose this thing.” He reached a finger under his collar and pulled out a thin gold chain, “I keep it on this while I’m working.”

Jim clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder, flashing a tight-lipped smile and trying to hide his surprise at the news, “Well, I’m happy for you. How long have you been married to…” He paused slightly, thinking now of the gold chain and the non-standard embellishment on the ring, “Them?”

Thankfully, Ed either didn’t notice the blunder, or didn’t care and gave the response, “Two years this Saturday,” with a smile that Jim could only describe as “Dreamy”, much as he hated to use the word. Harvey restrained himself from asking the question he really wanted to ask, namely, “Who the hell agreed to marry you?” and instead asked, in as casual a tone as he could muster, “To anyone we know?” For some reason, this made Ed grin slyly, as though he knew something the two detectives didn’t. It made Jim nervous, and the feeling was entirely unwelcome.

“You’ve met him, yes.” He said, with poorly restrained glee, “Even worked with him on a few occasions.” Harvey furrowed his brows, and was about to ask another question, when Ed suddenly looked to the watch on his wrist (also clearly expensive, Jim noted, with little gold question marks in place of numbers) and said breezily, “Oh would you look at that. I’ve got to go. It was good seeing you detectives.” And with that he left, weaving through the mass of shoppers with surprising grace. It only took a few seconds for them to completely lose sight of him.

Harvey turned to face Jim. “Okay, I’m going to say it: who could we possibly have met that would marry Nygma?” Jim hummed contemplatively. It was strange; Ed seemed the type of person to either be perpetually single, or, if he was dating someone, to never shut up about it. That he was not only married, but married to someone they knew, and had kept it a secret for almost two years, was unimaginable. “It does seem strange. I mean whoever it is is pretty clearly rich too, unless Ed’s gotten into bank robbing recently.”

“Yeah,” Harvey agreed as they walked, “no one at the precinct makes that kind of cash. No one clean at least.”

“You think he’s married to a dirty cop?” It would make some small amount of sense, but the general opinion of Ed in the precinct was not favourable, and Jim couldn’t imagine any of the other officers secretly harbouring any affection for him.

“If he’s married to a cop, it’d be a dirty one.” Harvey continued, “But I seriously doubt anyone, let alone a cop would wanna marry him.”

“C’mon, he’s not that weird.” Harvey gave him a look. “Okay maybe he is, but there’s clearly someone out there who likes him.”

“Yeah, but you have to have heard how the other guys at the precinct talk about him, right?”

“It’s hard not to.” Jim conceded.

“Exactly. Nygma’s not exactly popular, but he says we’ve worked with whoever he married. So who the hell could it be?”

Jim had to admit that the question left him intrigued.

Chapter Text

The next day, with the case mercifully over, Harvey and Jim were studiously avoiding the mountain of paperwork they had to do and instead engaging in wild speculation over Ed’s mystery husband. Harvey had been throwing out the name of every officer they knew even slightly, while Jim in turn shot each one down. Each officer either had a history of being unnecessarily aggressive towards Ed, a wife and kids that they had met at various precinct events, or was making not nearly enough money to adorn Ed with such high-end jewellery.

A moment of silence passed when Harvey had finally exhausted the list of officers they knew, until a thought struck him.

 “You don’t think it’s the captain, do you?” Harvey looked horrified at the prospect and Jim responds with a vehement, “Definitely not.” Harvey leans back in his chair, looking unduly frustrated, “then who?” Jim had no clue – he felt more baffled by this than he did by any of his previous cases. Ed was just so… Ed. He was overly excitable in the face of gruesome crimes, he stood too close and was terrible at knowing when to leave or shut up, and his obsession with riddles and puzzles made making conversation almost painful. He couldn’t imagine the type of person Ed could possibly attract and he was about to say so when he caught a glimpse of the man himself stepping quickly through the bullpen towards them with what Jim suspected was a new case for them in his hands.

Ed greeted them with unflinching enthusiasm as he presented them with their case files, and now that Jim looked closer, he could see that Ed’s usual awkwardly fitting suits had been replaced with ones of far higher quality which, by some strange quirk of tailoring, now transformed his figure from uncomfortably gangly to something svelte and somehow elegant. Furthermore, when he looked a little closer, he noticed that the tie pin Ed always wore, citing health and safety codes if anyone ever mentioned it, had been replaced with a shiny gilt pin that had a question mark at its tip, studded with gems that Jim had a sneaking suspicion were emeralds. He could even imagine that he saw the outline of the necklace behind his neatly pressed shirt, the ring with its glimmering jewel taunting him.  

He didn’t bring any of this up yet, still having a job to do after all. Instead, he and Harvey quietly leafed through their respective case files. They depicted a string of murders – nothing too outrageous by Gotham standards, just routine stabbings, but it was suspected that they were all done by the same person, given the placement and curvature of the wounds. Ed explained all of this with his trademark inappropriate cheer, and it was only after he was done (and Jim had reluctantly answered his latest riddle) that Harvey was able to ask the question that had been plaguing him and Jim since the day prior.

“So, Ed, who’d you hitch your wagon to, and exactly how rich is he?” Jim raised his eyebrows; he had planned on getting the information in a far more tactful and subtle manner, but Harvey had no such scruples. Ed, for his part, didn’t seem too startled by the blunt questioning, merely chuckling and saying, “Come on, detectives, you know him,” before quickly saying his goodbyes and returning to the lab.

Harvey rolled his eyes, “Okay, he has to be fucking with us.” Jim wanted to agree, but he honestly couldn’t see Ed deliberately being anything but completely sincere. The man just didn’t seem to have the capacity for trickery. He told this to Harvey, who seemed to agree, but generally didn’t pay enough attention to Ed to know for sure. Jim supposed he hadn’t been paying that much attention to Ed either, given how he had managed to miss his flashy new wardrobe and accessories.

Now though, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him, the question of that damned ring running through his mind incessantly. He was able to put it aside briefly while they set to work on their newest case, but the moment they finished up with it, the question came right back.

“Let’s face it, Jimbo,” Harvey said, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out, releasing a cacophony of cracking that made Jim wince, “there’s no one in this entire precinct who would go out with, let alone marry that guy”

“Then who?” Jim couldn’t help but ask, “He said we worked with him?”

“maybe while you were at Arkham?” Harvey mused, one large hand coming up to scratch at the scruff of his beard, “Like one of the guards or one of the therapists – I hear therapists bring in the big bucks.”

“The people there weren’t exactly patient, and I think you’d have to be to deal with Ed.” It never failed to make him squirm a little, recalling the harsh treatment the patients had received; for supposed caretakers of the mentally ill, very few had any real patience or sympathy for those under their care.  “Maybe while you were doing your thing with the bar?”

“No one there had the money for fancy jewellery, especially not after they’d spent a few hours there. Any money they had went straight towards booze.” Frustration was building up within the both of them. It felt like one of those impossible cases, where the route towards the answer seemed so simple, and yet every path just led to another dead end.

His voice grew louder with irritation as he said, “Well, if it’s not any of those people, then who?”

They paused, and a thought struck Jim as suddenly and with as much force as if he had been struck upside the head. Harvey seemed to understand almost immediately.

“No.” He declared, “No. There is no possible way that Ed, of all people, is married to a criminal.”

“It makes sense though,” Jim insisted, picking up speed as the idea unfurled within his mind, “A criminal would be able to acquire large sums of money in a single bank job, and it would explain why Ed hasn’t exactly been forthright about his marriage.”

“But really,” Harvey protested, baffled, “Ed? He’s just so… Ed. He wears a pocket protector and likes puzzles. I can’t imagine him even holding a conversation with a criminal without getting shot. I just don’t see it.”

“I know, but it’s the only possible solution left.” Harvey had to admit that Jim had a point there. They’d ruled out everything else, and both he and Jim had worked with criminals before, albeit with great reluctance on Jim’s part, so, no matter how improbable it seemed, it had to be the truth.

Harvey took a moment to embrace this new reality, where nerdy forensic technicians shacked up with bank robbers and mob bosses. “Okay,” he said, “so Ed’s managed to marry a criminal without being shot in the process. The question is, which criminal has he married?”

“How many criminals have you worked with?” Jim asked, sounding mildly concerned.

“Not important. What is important is figuring this thing out. Ed could be a mole for them for all we know.”

Jim scrunched up his face in disbelief, “No way, Ed’s way too green for that.”

“Well obviously he’s not as green as we thought if he’s shacking up with a criminal. A prolific one too, if that ring was as expensive as it looked.”

“That watch too.” Jim added, unable to get the tiny precise question mark dials on it out of his mind.

“Exactly!” Harvey crowed, “So who do we know with that kind of money?”

Jim, having grown tired quickly with wracking his mind for any of the criminals he knew that either he or Harvey had worked with, and who would be able to put up with Ed in any capacity, decided that he was done with speculation, and said, “Well, there’s an easy way to find out; we just have to follow him home.” He didn’t particularly like the idea of following Ed home, but he couldn’t stand any more sitting around, and it wasn’t like Ed was going to come out and tell them, like any normal person would. Instead, he was jerking them around, teasing them with hints and smug little clues, so he figured a little stalking was justified.

The pair seemed decided on this course of action, when another thought came unbidden into Jim’s mind and he found himself feeling an uncommon sense of uncertainty. He rested his head on the heels of his hands, and turns to face Harvey, saying in a defeated tone he didn’t frequently take on, “Who says he even lives with the guy?”

Thankfully, Harvey was filled with no such uncertainty, and he clapped him on the shoulder and reassured him in a matter-of-fact tone, “Jim, they’re married and Ed lets him doll him up with jewellery and fancy clothes – they live together.”

And so, as the day ended, and Ed made his way down from the forensics lab, through the bullpen and out through the precinct doors, Jim and Harvey grabbed their coats and made their way to the car park, keeping a close eye on Ed as he got into his car. It seemed to be the same model as he had drove prior to his marriage, with the same silly RIDL LVR number plate.

Ed drove the same way he moved, with precise and decisive manoeuvres that made it seem as though the car were being driven by a robot. Harvey’s driving style was almost the exact opposite, and Jim sorely regretted letting him drive. His way of driving was far more suitable for chasing criminals than for covertly tailing a suspect, but Jim decided not to press the issue, lest Harvey turn to face him instead of the road in order to argue that he was perfectly capable of driving and didn’t appreciate that being questioned.

They followed Ed down countless narrow alleyways and side road, down winding lanes and through districts Jim had never seen before, and it wasn’t long before he completely lost his bearings. He didn’t worry too greatly though, as Harvey, for all his faults on the road, didn’t let Ed’s car out of their sight.

They continued to follow Ed for what felt like an hour, but what actually must have only been about twenty minutes, when suddenly they found that the road was filled with dozens of other cars, that surrounded them, slowing the detectives down and putting significant distance between them and Ed, until they couldn’t see his car at all, and they found themselves stunned into silence, pulling up on the side of the road with surprising calm.

Harvey was the first to break both the silence and the calm, slamming his hands on the steering wheel as he exclaimed, “We lost him! How the hell did we lose him?” He felt totally bemused and Jim wasn’t too far behind. In the blink of an eye, they had lost him. Ed’s car was nothing if not distinctive, and they were cops; there was no reason for them to have lost him so completely and so easily as well. The pair huffed in frustration at the wasted excursion – gas wasn’t cheap after all – and, having nothing better to do, redirected themselves to the closest bar.

Even with the distraction that drinking provided, they couldn’t help but continue to meditate on the subject. Harvey, having imbibed six beers and four fingers of scotch, was beginning to slur his words as he spoke, though he didn’t let that get in the way of declaring that, “Those other cars were absolutely planned. No way we just conveniently get cut off when we’re right on Ed’s tail.”

Jim, who had drunk a considerable amount, but still far less than Harvey, retained his usual scepticism. It seemed unrealistic, and the fact that the words were coming out of the mouth of a drunken Harvey, did nothing to lend the theory any credibility. He stared into his drink and did his best to think straight. It took him a good few minutes and Harvey’s eye was wandering towards a sloppy blonde waving at him from across the bar when he finally reached a conclusion about what had happened.

“Harv,” He began, the words coming slowly but surely, building in confidence as he spoke, “before we got cut off, where did it seem like he was going?”

“Nowhere I know of – he was going down all kinds of roads.” Harvey slurred. Jim was about to interject, when Harvey continued, “Y’know, for such a know-it-all, you’d think he’d know the express route to his own home.”

“Unless,” Jim cut in, “he wasn’t intending on going home at all.”

Thankfully, Harvey caught on quick, “Oh my god: he knew we were tailing him. That does not bode well for us Jimbo, ‘specially not if his husband is connected enough to organise all those cars to block us off on such short notice.”

“But it does tell us something.”

“Oh?” Harvey perked up at that, lifting his head from where he had been resting it on the table, unknowing or uncaring of the sticky patina it had from the plethora of drinks that had been spilled on it.

“It tells us that Ed is definitely screwing with us. He knows we want to know who this guy is and he’s stringing us about.”

“Ugh.” Harvey groaned, “Of course he is. Does this mean we’re giving up then?”

“No, but it does mean that tomorrow, we’re going to have a little chat with Ed.”

Chapter Text

The next day, they arrived at the precinct, Jim slightly hungover, Harvey still slightly tipsy, and immediately muscled their way through the crowded bullpen. Jim grimaced at the stinging brightness of the lights and the cacophony of sound, hellish to his oversensitive eyes and ears, and moved towards the forensics lab as quickly as he could.

Ed, punctual as ever, was already there. He didn’t seem surprised to see them. In fact, he looked as though he had been waiting for them, facing them head on, with his mouth stretched in an impish grin, that amused glint back in his eyes. He seemed different somehow, and Jim wondered when exactly this change had taken place, when his love for games had transformed into this unnerving desire to turn everything into a puzzle, a riddle, a game. He shook off the thought; that wasn’t why they were here.

“Detectives!” Ed said, his smile never faltering, “What can I do for you?”

Harvey had little patience for Ed’s flimsy pretence of innocence. “Cut the crap Ed, we know you’re married to a criminal.”

“Oh?” Ed said, seeming strangely delighted, as though he were hearing some scandalous gossip that would never reach him through the precinct grapevine. He leaned forward slightly, his elbow planted on the dissection table so that he could rest his chin in his palm and ask, mischievously, “and what makes you think that, detective?”

The sudden confidence and sly demeanour set Jim on edge, and he almost took a step back before remembering that Ed alone was completely harmless. Jim was the one with a weapon; all Ed had was his puzzles. Well, that and his influential criminal of a husband. Harvey, still rocking a decent blood alcohol percentage, felt no such unease, responding to Ed’s sly taunting, with blunt antagonism, as was his custom.

“Because there ain’t no one in this entire precinct, or at my old bar, or even at Arkham, that would date your sorry ass. And I’m including the patients at Arkham; even they’ve got more sense.”

“Well,” Ed swallowed, looking ever so slightly taken aback, “that seems a little harsh.” Jim almost felt bad for him – Harvey had never been great at dealing with Ed. Ignoring the throbbing headache that was just beginning to form at his temples, Jim spoke up.

“Ed, we know you’re just playing with us – you’re making us wanting to know more about you and who you’re married to into one big game. You can’t play with people like that.” He tried to be gentle with his words, as though Ed were a cornered animal, liable to bite, or perhaps cry, if he weren’t careful.

The only noticeable change in Ed’s demeanour was a slight narrowing of his eyes, almost imperceptible, and yet that one small action served to bring about an icy atmosphere into the room. Jim felt the instinctive urge to reach for his gun, making an abortive gesture as he remembered where he was. This was just Ed, slightly annoyed, but still Ed, married to some career criminal, but still Ed, suddenly seeming ridiculously threatening, but still Ed.

He was starting to question how well he truly knew the man.

“You say I’m making this into a game,” Ed intoned in long, stretched out syllables, his eyes never leaving Jim, “because I don’t want to give up information about my life so easily.”

 “Yes!” Harvey cried, frustrated, “Christ it’s like you’re not even human!”

 Ed sneered at that, and Jim was surprised that his face could even make that expression. It felt so out of place on Ed, Ed who was usually so cheerful, so peppy and eager to talk.

 “Well, what makes you think you deserve to know?” his tone was steely and cool.

“We just want to know more about you, Ed, because we’re friends.” Jim tried to placate him. He didn’t succeed; in fact, Ed laughed at the sentiment. It was a surprisingly deep sound, not at all like the shrill giggles he would have expected, and it echoed around the room, making the space seem far smaller all of a sudden.

“You’re only interested in my life, because of this new mystery, and yet you can’t even be bothered to put in a little effort to figure it out. Face it, you’re more interested in me now than you have been the entire time we’ve known each other.” His face had split open into a full blown cheshire grin, his teeth bared almost manically, reminding Jim somehow of some wild animal. “Come on, you won’t even play one little game for the information you want?”

Jim took a step back, and Harvey’s brows furrowed in a blend of bewilderment and unease. They stared at Ed for one long hard moment until Ed suddenly doubled over, laughing in a much pleasanter manner and dropping the cold act.

“Kidding!” He cried, “You should have seen your faces.” Jim and Harvey chuckled awkwardly, and neither truly believed that the man had been anything but completely serious.

 “So, you’re going to tell us then?” Jim asked tentatively, the combination of his hangover, his inability to figure out the identity of Ed’s husband, and Ed’s erratic mood swings, making him feel thoroughly off-kilter, as though he were trying to keep his balance aboard a ship in a storm. As soon as the image popped into his head, he did his level best to dispel it as it did nothing to quell his headache.

 “Oh no, definitely not.” Ed replied, “This is much more fun.” Jim groaned inwardly, and Harvey groaned outwardly.

“Can you at least stop deliberately making it so difficult?” Harvey lamented. He had come this far and even if Ed was being ridiculously annoying (more so than usual), he still wanted to know who on earth he had married.

Ed sighed, “Alright.” He looked irritated though, either at the prospect of having to make his game easier, or at the failure of two detectives to figure out what he clearly deemed to be a simple puzzle. “But no more tailing my car; it makes me feel paranoid.” Jim reluctantly agreed and the pair made stiff goodbyes and left.

Once outside of the lab, Harvey turned to face Jim and said, “And he wonders why he’s got no friends.”