Archive of Our Own

Scarecrow was returned to their cell with zip-tied hands and a muzzle in his mouth, glaring daggers at Riddler, who gave him an apologetic look, before getting up from his chair and trying to place a kiss on his cheeks. The man, however, wasn't cooperating, he tilted his head up, forcing The Riddler on his tippytoes just to reach his chin.

"Don't sulk, Jonathan." He said. "You're too old to be childish, people will start thinking you have dementia."

Scarecrow flipped him off with his bound hands.

Riddler sighed. "Sit down so I can help you."

Still glaring daggers at his cellmate, Scarecrow did what was asked of him. As he sat on the bed, he was eye to eye with Riddler standing next to him. It never failed to perplex him just how absurdly tall the man was. What were they feeding them in Georgia?

Riddler untied the muzzle keeping Scarecrow’s mouth shut and the man didn't waste a moment to start bitching, not even stopping to wipe the saliva off his lips. "Fucking snitch, just wait until you fall asleep. I will show you fear you have never known before. I’ll peel back what's left of your sanity and let you taste a terror yet untouched by human experience."

"And you’ll savor every delicious second of my descent into sleepless terror, I’m sure." Riddler threw the muzzle in the sink, before using it to wash his hands. He had seen enough from the staff at Arkham to know one should always wash their hands after touching something they did. "I never expected you to thank me, but you could at least cut the complaints. You know I wouldn't 'snitch' as you call it, if you left me better opinion. Did they use the jacket?"

"You could've just let me be." There was an undertone to Scarecrow's voice that made him sound like he was growling. "And yes, they did."

There was no straitjacket long enough to fit the Scarecrow's tall frame, so they opted for a smaller one that twisted his back unnaturally. Riddler frowned. He reached behind the sink, taking out a pair of small scissors, before returning to the bed and cutting the zip-tie binding his cellmate's wrists.

Scarecrow immediately lifted his hands in the air, stretching them and his shoulders, as Riddler returned the contraband, His back cracking loudly.

"Fuck. You owe me a massage."

"I shall indulge you, but only because I still need to do the exposure exercise doctor Quinzel assigned me and you're a much more favorable option than touching anyone else in this filthy facility."

Scarecrow pulled down the top of his uniform, revealing his bandaged forearm. It had dark stains where blood had soaked through, it was clearly more than ready to be changed, however this was Arkham Asylum and every cent was counts. Riddler cringed at the sight.

"You're lucky. They hosed me down to clean off the blood." Scarecrow said, moving to sit sideways on the bed, so the Riddler could better reach his back.

"I genuinely feared you might not return – a rare emotional lapse on my part." Riddler said as he spread his (also contraband) hand cream across Scarecrow back. "While you were gone, more staff went on a sick leave and Strange toppled into a coma. No one can explain why, in a building full of medical staff. Isn’t that delicious?"

"And you're certainly not having a heyday with the mystery." Scarecrow answered sarcastically, before groaning. "Fuck, for someone who’s afraid to touch people you're good at this."

"Naturally." Riddler smiled, not bothering to clarify which sentence he was answering to (it was both at once). "You're not exactly the hardest subject to massage, I can basically see the muscle through your skin. Did you get that mole I told you about checked?"

"Not yet." Scarecrow rolled his eyes, leaning into Riddler's touch.

"Skin cancer is no joke, Jonathan."

"I'm certain it will be fine." He pulled away. "Let me lie down."

They changed their positions so Scarecrow could spread his too long body on the too short bed. Riddler leaned over him in a rather compromising manner that would be hard to explain while keeping up his lone genius persona. A careful watcher might have noticed that Scarecrow had closed his eyes, before asking;

"So, I imagine you have your theories."

"Oh, yes." There was a hint of excitement to Riddler's voice. "I have mapped out shifts of Arkham personnel and cross-examined them with the sickness cases. I'm certain there's poison at play. There's no simpler explanation and more often than not, Occam's razor is the case when it comes to Arkham – we don't get that many interesting cases around here."

"You think Batman had noticed already?" Scarecrow asked.

"I hope so, and I hope to solve this sooner than he does." Riddler grinned, pressing his thumbs into Scarecrows shoulder blades.

"Why such an interest? Surely, it's not just so you can beat Batman at his game."

"You're very correct to ask, Jonathan." Riddler ran his knuckles across Scarecrow's spine, making the man twitch. "There's a common variable within all the cases; only those who were employed at Arkham twelve to fifteen years ago got sick and the list of those who were employed and aren't sick gets lower every day."

"You think I'm next?" Scarecrow asked, his interest now apparent.

"I told you, I wasn't sure if you would come back."

"Yet, you still snitched on me."

“Between explosive diarrhea and allowing you to mutilate yourself? That was barely snitching.”

"I never went as far as to kill myself." Scarecrow countered. "I might if I get explosive diarrhea, however."

"You don't even eat enough for that to be a problem. In fact, your dietary habits Might be just the thing that saved you from your horrible fate in the bathrooms of the medical wing."

 "You are afraid someone might accidentally poison you, aren't you?" Scarecrow cackled.

"It's always about fear with you. But yes, I will admit it crossed my mind and I don't like it, so I'd like to prevent it the best I can."

"By finding out the source of the illness."

"Indeed. And I’ll be having a word with them about the importance of striking the correct target."

"How do you know they struggle with that?"

"Because there are cases that don't fit the pattern, however, they do always share shifts with a target that does. For example, half the kitchen staff fell ill and I have a feeling that it was either to hide the culprit's footprints or tasting the wrong soup."

"Are you sure you aren't just seeing a pattern where there isn't any?"

"Me? Never."

They were interrupted by a very impolite orderly shouting "LIGHT'S OUT IN FIVE. GET YOUR CRAZY ASSES IN BEDS." across the corridor. Riddler was very fast to jump off his cellmate as to not to be caught in a compromising position. (One might assume the compromising position meant 'caught with another man' but one would be mistaken. Riddler simply refused to be seen while giving rather than receiving.)

He sat on his own bed, taking off his glasses before laying down. "I made a list of possible perpetrators. Some will be easier to corner than others. I could use your interrogation skill when I do that."

Scarecrow chuckled. "You're afraid you'll get your ass whooped."

"That's not true at all, I just happen to think your attendance is vital, considering you’re one of the rapidly shrinking survivors." He said, despite there being no death tied to the outbreak quite yet. Doctor Strange got close however. Probably due to his age."

One of the suspiciously unharmed targets was Harley Quinn herself, Riddler didn't think it was her but he felt a sense of obligation to warn her about the situation. It was also very easy to catch her. He sat opposite to her at breakfast. She was picking on her eggs, positioning them to form a smile face on her plate.

"Eddie!" She yelped when she saw him, lighting up even more than she was before, even if it seemed at first impossible. "Come, sit with us!"

"Good morning to you, Doctor Quinzel. Pamela." Scarecrow just sat down without being invited himself. People should know by now that unless in a period of a breakup. him and Riddler were a one plus one deal in Arkham.

"Are you doing your exposures, Eddie?"

"If you must know, yes, Harleen, I am." He said with an annoyed tone.

"You know Jonny here doesn't count, right?" Harley was as cheerful as ever.

"Yes, he does. You should see the filth he works in."

Poison Ivy clearly dozed off and as Riddler sat next to her, she woke up with a startle, blinking few times staring at Scarecrow, before shaking her head. "Oh, morning."

"Troubles sleeping again?" Scarecrow asked, raising his brows.

"It's the time of the year when Harley sings in her sleep." Ivy said, it was the time of the year when the summer semester ended and finals started for students of Gotham's university... same time of the year when Harley was her maddest. And they say education can't make you crazy.

"I'm so sorry baby, I tried to tape my mouth shut but nothing works!"

"I could provide you with an Arkham issued muzzle if you lend me some Benzos." Scarecrow offered.

"Jonny, no! I don't deal with medication!"

"And yet you're giving cognitive behavior therapy to Edward."

"Well, obviously? I'm still the best qualified person in the building!" She pointed at her name tag, that had an additional 'CBT therapist' handwritten under her name and sentence. "Look, Doctor Arkham even gave me an official title!"

"Jeremiah needs his sick leave." Scarecrow rolled his eyes. "In his case shitting himself was a blessing from God."

"That's what I want to talk with you about, actually." Riddler rejoined the conversation.

"Doctor Arkham's bathroom habits?" Harley asked with immensely serious tone, prompting her tired girlfriend to cackle before giving her a disappointed look.

 "No, I mean the peculiar food poisonings plaguing this place lately. I’ve listed every victim, and they all share a single, glaring link: Arkham employment within the last twelve to fifteen years."

"What about, Zsasz?" Harley pointed out.

"A few cases were accidental, people nibbling food that wasn’t theirs, getting poisoned as a collateral." Riddler rolled his eyes. "And you know Zsasz — if it’s unattended, he’ll inhale it."

"Ha!" Harley yelped. "So not everyone matches your theory!"

"Don't be nitpicking and listen to me, my calculations are done and correct, as always."

"Alway? Like-"

"Please, let him finish, Doctor Quinzel."

"You haven't been touching your food, Jonathan." Ivy pointed her spoon at Scarecrow.

"Yes, for obvious reasons."

"You think Jonny is next on the turd-exploder's list!" Harley gasped theatrically.

"Please use the term poisoner or culprit." Riddler said before she could continue speaking. "And yes, I think Jon and your likeness are the next intended victims."

"Oof, good that I've been taking that charcoal with all my foods so that won't happen then!"

There was a genuine hurt on Riddler's face. "Are you telling me you knew?"

"Well, obviously." Harley said. "When a girl's ex-colleagues all start falling ill, she better make sure she isn't getting poisoned."

"So, this mania of yours is not due to the season but the charcoal deactivating your anti-psychotics."

"Right as always, Jonny!"

"Unfortunately, this solution wouldn't work for me." Scarecrow shook his head. "I need my medication working or he would show up and land me in the hole for next month where I'd most likely get poisoned anyways."

"Do you have any ideas who the culprit could be?" Riddler asked.

Harley giggled. "Don't you, Eddie?"

"Yes, I do actually, but I want to know if our theories match."

"Well, there's the super old nurse Phyllis, she always looks like she has some evil plan going. I'm pretty sure fifteen years ago is when Ben and Bonnie started working here, along with Bolton, but I haven't seen him this week, so he might have shat himself too... and a few of the rogues that used to work here like me, Marionette and Louise... Bethany if she counts, it sounds like something she would do."

"And do you have any idea, who could have a reason to poison everyone but them?"

"Anyone really, you know how it works here; human rights mean nothing and everyone's plotting revenge."

"Thank you, Harley."

Harley for all her manic outbreak, had managed to give quite the correct list of suspiciously healthy subjects to Edward. She also managed to remind him of few names that he surely would've remembered himself in time. One of those being Maria-Annette Kant, a former janitor of Arkham, born a rich girl, who after the untimely death of her parents by the hand of the Falcone family, ended up on the streets. Her family wealth was stolen by the shareholders of her family's company, turning the former nepo baby into a poor orphan. Her coping mechanism was dressing up as a puppet and kidnapping children and/or grandchildren of the said shareholders. She was a favorite rogue of Gotham's left, despite her rich beginnings and absolutely zero real socialist ideals. 

She also did burlesque in the Iceberg Lounge, when she was occasionally out on parole. She was known under her stage name as Marionette. Of course, Harleen Quinzel would remember her, she thought their similar naming convention was hilarious and often ended up attending Marionette's performances and drinking herself (both of them, really) unconscious after.

"I don't remember shit, pretty boy, I was constantly drunk back then."

"Yes, I do remember you throwing empty cans on people who stepped on your wet floors." Riddler deadpanned. "But surely, you must remember something."

She giggled. He could smell alcohol in her breath even now and he had a feeling that it wasn't a leftover from twelve years ago. "Yeah, I did that. I really don't know what was twelve and what was five years ago, but you should try the other staff."

"Like who for example?"

"Harley, of course, Bethany- Oh, Ben Park 'n his gal! And Phyllis definitely, did you try asking Doctor Arkham?" Marionette due to her medication and self-medication on benzos spoke rather slowly – the complete opposite of manic Harley Quinn. And while Riddler had an easy time understanding the first woman, Marionette's slowness annoyed him beyond measure. "There's also the kitchens, but I don't think anyone stayed there for long, except maybe Ratchet. And the Greek girl, if she counts... I don't think she does, does she?"

Marionette was unsurprisingly unhelpful. Riddler used the first opportunity to thank her for her help, took Scarecrow's hand in his and pulled him away from the woman before he scared the location of her stash out of her and proceeded to give himself an alcohol poisoning.

Another easy find was Doctor Bethany Kellich, aka Gotham's own Angel of Death. To make a long story short, she was one of the people who hated working in Arkham so much she started killing people. The long story included an affair with Hugo Strange, a decade long divorcing process during which she was foolish enough to hope that he would marry her as soon as it’s done and a following restraining order. She was about Scarecrow's age, but completely opposite in stature: She was short and round, seemingly the sweetest lady you've ever met, until she put bleach in your IV and watched you die in convulsions, of course. She also liked to flirt with the Scarecrow to make him uncomfortable. A pleasant woman through and through.

"Yes, I've noticed there was something strange with the recent epidemic. I tried to tell Jeremiah, but he pretended he didn’t hear me and called the guards to escort me out!" She gesticulated excessively as she spoke.

"In his defense, Bethany, that tends to happen if you are a known criminal caught trespassing during curfew." Scarecrow pointed out, seemingly not interested in the entire detective episode and wanting to be out of Bethany's presence as soon as possible. He once admitted to Riddler she reminded him of those girls who bullied him in high school.

"Do you recall there being someone else present, who haven't yet fallen ill and is neither Jonathan, Harley nor Marionette?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Mister Nygma, it's been so long... Oh, Phyllis definitely! And did you try the kitchens? Leandra still works here, doesn't she?!"

"What about the list of targets, do you have any idea why someone would poison staff members from that long ago?"

"It must be Hugo's fault, obviously." She sneered.

"Do you recall what his focus was at the time? He did so much medical malpractice during the years even I don't keep track of them."

She made a face that implied the action of thinking that long back was painful to her. "That's after Claudia left him, right? If yes, then he had started multiple projects at the time. Oblivious coping mechanism, if you ask me. He had a joint project with Pyg, I remember because he kept working on this girl that looked a lot like Claudia and it was driving me insane, so I tried to kill her. She's fine, by the way I think she still works here. He was also working with Jonny here on the fear toxin thing and he bought himself a new car and did amateur racing. Anyway, why don't you start in the kitchens?"

"It's about the process of solving the case, doctor, not about the result."

"Anyway, how are you, Jonathan? I heard your psychosis got so bad you ended up in the jacket! You know you can always talk to me, right? We could adjust your medication and set up a therapy-"

"It wasn't a psychosis, Bethany and thank you, but no, I do not need your help with my mental state."

"So," Scarecrow said as they were leaving the canteen. "Is there a reason why we don’t go straight to the kitchen and ask who has been suspiciously tampering with the food?"

Riddler frowned. "You insult me, Jonathan, do you think I would ever take the easy way to solve a mystery?"

"I mean, your modus operandi usually is to solve everything before Batman does, so you can laugh at his slowness or hide the clues from him."

"Surely, you wouldn't be as cruel as to ruin this one form of amusement I have in Arkham. And even if our dear kitchen staff knew who is doing this, why would they tell me? Everyone in Gotham knows that snitches get nothing but stiches."

Scarecrow smirked. "I can't wait for the culprit to find out what you're doing and poison you too.”

"That won't happen, do not even joke about that happening, Jonathan." Riddler said very seriously.

"There it is. The fear of losing your dignity." Scarecrow smirked, but his expression soon turned bitter. "Couldn't be me, not after I learn that Bethany of all people knows I was in the hole. Especially after I kept your mishaps from the public knowledge."

"I didn't rat you out, Jonathan, the whole block saw you being dragged away bleeding." Riddler frowned. "It's your fault, you shouldn't have done that."

"It would suck if they had learned about your own, perfectly symmetrical scars on your thighs, that reopened one too many times to ever fade."

Scarecrow barely finished the sentence, before he was being pinned to a wall by the shorter man with a contraband blade at his neck.

"Shut. Up." Riddler growled.

Alas, Scarecrow was far beyond fearing threats on his life. He leaned into the blade, until the skin broke under it, while staring down into his attacker's eyes. In a second, Riddler pulled the knife away. Scarecrow smiled the entire time. "You wouldn't dare, love."

"Fuck you. You threaten my dignity again and I will."

Scarecrow kept smiling. "You're overreacting, Edward, your mind is feeding you the worst-case scenarios, exposure will help you accept that no one will look for imperfections on your body but yourself."

He was to lay a hand on the side of Riddle's thigh, but his hand was caught and was pulled towards the end of the corridor.

"No, thank you, this is something I refuse to get exposed to." Riddler let go of Scarecrow's hand and they continued their way back to their cell. "This and this damn poison. My dignity doesn't need either of this."

"This is one of the tamest revenge plots that happened in Arkham for decades." Scarecrow rolled his eyes, allowing Riddler to change the subject. "It's just diarrhea, Edward." 

"What if I end up like Strange did? What if this is how I die!" Riddler spiraled, his voice growing more frantic with every word. "What a horrible ending that would be for the Prince of Puzzles! They would rename me to-"

Scarecrow interrupted him. "You wouldn't die. Strange was probably poisoned repeatedly and even he will be fine."

"I'm not ashamed to admit that my ego would not survive it."

Scarecrow cackled. "You're the most dramatic man I know and I know one who dresses as a giant bat. Anyway, how do you know it's not Bethany? Maria had a point, it's her brand of crime and her ex-partner at the risk of an embarrassing death."

"Bethany's work is far cleaner, both literally and not; she would not choose diarrhea and she'd take longer breaks between targets. You know it took her months to move to a new victim after the last one had died. She bids her time."

"And how do you know it's not me?"

"You would poison me first and laugh at my misery." Riddler deadpanned. "But back to the case; do you recall what you were doing at the time? What revenge worthy things were happening?"

Scarecrow shook his head. "Just like the gremlin of a woman said. Strange started multiple projects at the time to cope with his divorce – deserved by the way, I'm still baffled how he ever scored such a woman as Claudia-"

"Jonathan, please focus."

"I was occupied with expanding my formula for recreational use. Oswald was looking for a way to enter Gotham's drug market and commissioned me to create a strain of fear toxin that would bring the same high as watching horror movies does."

"Ah, yes, the 'scare candies," Which were on the street dubbed 'scandies' which pissed Scarecrow off immensely. "That did absolutely nothing for me but tasted like mediocre candy that was not worth its calories."

"You've developed tolerance of my toxin by the time they were out, at least the first batches, the latest ones were strong enough to take down a horse." Scarecrow grinned. "Maybe it's time to bring them back. It was amusing to have people take fear toxin on their own."

"Focus, Jonathan. Let's say you weren't the one who had angered our culprit. Do you recall what else was Strange doing? Bethany was active at the time, but she was not yet poisoned so I would assume it wasn't something she did or helped with."

"As she said, Strange worked on perfecting Pyg's dolls, which she refused to help him with, because he picked this pretty gal to work on. I don't think she looked like his ex-wife though, she just had a name that fit nicely with his project's name; 'Project Pygmalion'. Pretentious ass. He also tried to cure his baldness. He was embarrassed to tell anyone, but we noticed anyway, because suddenly every bald inmate in Arkham was growing their hair back and every man with hair was suddenly balding." Riddler remembered that one, he put a stop to it himself. It took him years to regrow his beautiful hair. "So his usual brand of testing new medications on his patients. That's about all I remember."

"Thank you, Jonathan, very useful."

Louise, another therapist-turned-rogue was brought to the medical bay the very morning, after hiding her condition for three days, while hoping it goes away by itself. So that was one suspect minus, which also ended the easy part of their search: the inmates.

The second easiest subjects to find were the guards; Ben and Bonnie were a duo of orderlies who started working at Arkham at the same time two decades ago and were non-separatable ever since (to the amusement of many inmates, from whom plenty attended their wedding). Ben – Benedict Park – was an ex-convict from Blackgate, who knew plenty of inmates by name due to his history of working as a goon for the rogues. Bonnie Novak-Park – was a failed police school graduate, who started working in Arkham as Thomas Novak and thought it would be very funny to choose her new name to match Ben's (most people around them had agreed with her about that, but most people around them were also mentally challenged). Neither of them was very bright and could not help Riddler with his task of finding the culprit. Oh, and they were both on his paycheck.

"Don't tell Bonnie, but after years of her cooking my intestines can deal with anything!" Ben faux whispered to Edward, spitting on the horrified man in the process and earned himself an elbow from Boonie for it (for the comment on her cooking, not for splitting on the Riddler. That she couldn't care less about), who stood right next to him. 

"I assume asking if you remember who worked there back then and who would want revenge is no use."

"Everybody in this place has a reason for revenge, Eddie, you must know, you fuck the guy who's using the inmates as his test subjects." Bonnie said, while offering them both a cigarette – something that the Riddler had declined and Scarecrow enthusiastically accepted. "So, you think it's someone from inside the Asylum?"

"It's very unlikely that the poisonings would happen outside, however I can't entirely exclude that hypothesis, as my intel from the outside is currently indisposed."

Despite not being the sharpest pencil in the box, Bonnie could take hints. "I don't think I know anyone who doesn't work here with long term food poisoning. But I can tell you that we are friends with the kitchen staff, which might be the reason we weren't poisoned yet."

"Mind reminding me who exactly, you're friends with?"

"Everyone!" Bonnie smiled.

"Bonnie goes there every morning for a coffee!" Ben added. "She says the one in the rec room is bad, but it tastes okay to me."

"You spend an hour there every morning but don't know who the culprit might be?" Riddler raised his brows.

"How could I forget, I saw this strange gal pouring a big bottle titled Salmonella into the food." Bonnie answered sarcastically.

"But you can tell me, who was present when the last poisoning had occurred?"

"When was that?"

"Louise on… let’s say it was Friday."

"Let's see. I think that was Erika, Lea, Galatea, Maddie and Gita, but the last two are on sick leave since Monday."

"Thank you."

"Your intel is indisposed? And here I thought you were truly doing this for me." Scarecrow asked as they were leaving the staff rec room.

"Don't be so self-centric, Jonathan. Do you recall any other orderly from that time who lasted until today?"

"Only Bolton." Lyle Bolton was one of the first to get sick and honestly, even if he wasn't matching target, he would probably get poisoned anyway for acting like a brute and a bully at any opportunity he got. "Should we see him anyway, just in case?"

Scarecrow blew the smoke of his cigarette towards Riddler, who hated smoking and took care to stand far enough from Scarecrow to avoid the smell, as it did not sit well with his asthma. Of course, Scarecrow still found a way to annoy him with it, as he found Riddler fearing for his life during an asthma attack arousing. He was a horrible man, if you can’t make that out.

"And get targeted as soon as he gets out? No, thank you. Not. My. Kink. Unlike someone." Riddler flipped him off. Sometimes gestures give a thousand words.

"Anyway, next are Phyllis and Ratchet and neither of them is anywhere we are legally allowed to."

"As if that ever stopped you, Edward." Scarecrow smiled. "I think I already know, who our culprit is however, do you?"

"Of course, I have my suspicions, but what fun would it be to stop the investigation now? when we were just getting to the exciting part!"

Phyllis Herman worked in Arkham since Doctor Arkham's late father directed the institution and liked to remind the man that she remembered him wearing diapers. She was a head nurse at the hospital and would likely remain until she finally kicked the bucket. Retirement was clearly not an option for this woman.

"You rascals should not be here." She said with an undertone of amusement in her otherwise serious voice. "Especially you, Nygma, Jon I know is a troublemaker, but you are disappointing me."

"How could I go so long without seeing my favorite head nurse, Mrs. Herman?"

"Cut the sweettalk, what do you need, Nygma? Is this a hostage situation?"

"She's right, Edward, we shouldn't be here." Scarecrow said with performative seriousness. "If she drops dead now, it will be on us."

"Joking with old people about death isn't funny, young man." The way she addressed him shared the same bite as his words did. "Now, tell me what you need."

"There's a pattern to the recent epidemic, that my genius self could not help but notice." Riddler started. "Every victim so far was employed by Arkham twelve to fifteen years ago."

"I don't recall Viktor Zsasz to be ever employed by Arkham." The old woman pointed out.

"Every victim plus exceptions that eat other's food, yes." Riddler rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone insist on nitpicking. Isn't it obvious that I have a reason not to count them when I don't? Agh, people!"

"What does it have to do with me?"

"Well, you haven't been poisoned yet, so one would assume you to know something about this." Riddler raised his brows. "Do you?"

"It's hard to catch salmonella if you don't eat." Phyllis shrugged. "That's all I can tell you, now hop back to your cells before I call Bolton on you two!"

"He's gotten poisoned too."

"He'll be happy to kick your asses when he's better." The old woman threatened.

On their way back (which included climbing through a window from the staff section of the asylum back to the patient one), Scarecrow could not help up ask.

"Did you also hear her say she doesn't eat? The hag is a vampire I tell you."

"I know of your love for horror, Jonathan, but you need to stop projecting that onto real life. Now, a little assistance would be appreciated here."

Riddler's legs were quite a bit shorter than Scarecrow’s, which made jumping between the windowsills more difficult. It also did not help that they were on the sixth floor and that falling would mean certain death.

Scarecrow. who had already passed through, leaned out the window to take a hold of Riddler's hand as he dared to do the jump. As was often the case with the Riddler, luck was against him and his foot slipped. He lost his balance and nearly fell, spared only by Scarecrow’s firm grip dragging him inside.

"Fuuck." He cursed breathlessly. Literally. Breath had caught in his lungs and he could not exhale. "Fuuuck."

Scarecrow, (a known enjoyer of shock therapy) smiled at the sight.

He leaned down, placing a kiss on his frightened cellmate's lips, entirely ignoring his distress. It had worked nicely to make Riddler forget that he could not breathe and start thinking about that he will kill this man one of these days. He kissed him back anyway.

Scarecrow didn’t seem keen on stopping with the kiss, as his hands ran down Riddler's side, slipping under the pants of his inmate uniform and underwear, feeling his buttocks.

"Ehm." Fake cough sounded from the door. "Both of you get your horny asses out of here, this is a restricted area."

Bonnie kicked them out before Riddler could chastise Scarecrow for getting horny from him genuinely fearing for his life.

It did not miss Riddler's attention that most of the unpoisoned people fitting his criteria were women but considering the usual level of hygiene he'd seen from men in Arkham, he didn't pay that much attention to that one correlation. He planned to sneak out to the kitchens after lunch, leaving Scarecrow behind on the group therapy, which he would excuse himself from. The current epidemic came with an ad hoc rule that anyone asking for a bathroom break would be given one no matter the time.

Not that he really needed an excuse to leave. Doctor Arkham had, as he had nearly every session for the last few weeks, only attended to tell Scarecrow to cover for him and leave. The attendance from patients wasn't better either; only five out of fifteen people appeared, not counting Doctor Arkham.

"Considering the number of survivors in attendance, we won't be starting a new chapter of our therapy." Scarecrow said, scribbling into the notes Dr. Arkham gave him. "However we can use this opportunity for individual sessions, and I see Edward already leaving, I didn't want to hear about your problems anyway."

Riddler had to pass Scarecrow when heading to the door, which had earned him a slap on his ass, followed by an encouraging whistle by Killer Croc. Both of the involved men should be grateful that Riddler liked them or they would both suffer a horrible end. Since he liked them, he simply flipped them both off.

The only unpoisoned employee fitting his criteria left was Leandra Lux, a cook with a great rogue-like name that she wasted on a boring day job and bingo tournaments. She only started working there thirteen years ago and was now one of the longest staying staff. The movement of employees was that bad in Arkham. She was also a Master of Social Studies. The job market was this bad in Gotham.

"Hello, Leandra, may I come in?”

"Edward!" She greeted him with unhidden joy. "You seem to have plenty of free time, while half my dishwashers are gone. You can come in if you're willing to help."

Expression of complete dread had appeared on the Riddler's face, only comparable to the one he had when he nearly fell out of a window a few hours ago. If Scarecrow was there, he would probably push him into the nearest broom closet.

"Hahhah, you should see your face, Edward, come in, I'm joking, I wouldn't do that to you." Leandra's laughed, waving him in. Edward added her to his mental list of possible puzzle victims.

"You should've made him work for it." The lovely woman speaking was Erika Ratchet, who despite her name, was not a nurse but another cook. She did have the wicket spirit of her namesake though.

The only other person in the kitchen was the dishwasher; she could've been in her late thirties and had a sickly grayish undertone to her skin with marble-like markings visible across her arms where she had rolled up her sleeves. Riddler would swear he had seen her in the Iceberg Lounge with Marionette before.

"That's Galatea and if you stare at her for too long she will bite you. Don't say I didn't warn you." Leandra said in her always cheerful manner. Riddler was sure she was on drugs and that it was the only reason she lasted in Arkham as long as she did.

"I'm here about the current epidemic." He went straight to the point. "I've made a list of possible suspects and interviewed each of them but you, Leandra. I left you for the last as you're the most likely one to give me a straight answer and make the game awfully easy."

"I do have my suspicion." Leandra giggled. "What's this pattern you've found?"

"The culprit targets those who were employed at Arkham twelve to fifteen years ago only, and before you say it, yes there are exceptions but I'm pretty sure those were not the main targets but mere collateral."

"Shouldn't you be having group therapy?" Galatea looked towards the clock on the wall, (which were to – Riddler's irritation – was set two minutes and half too early.)

"Doctor Arkham had cancelled it."

"Naturally." The woman rolled her eyes and returned to washing the dishes, while side-eyeing Riddler.

"I can't help you, Edward." Leandra said with her ever-present smile. "You know how it goes; Snitches get stiches in Gotham and I'd prefer to spend my days without food poisoning."

 "Don't worry, dear, I won't ask you to snitch. I'd just like to make sure the culprit does not mistakenly poison my food and preferably not Scarecrow's one either, as having a cellmate with diarrhea isn't exactly perfect living arrangements." He paused. "Ironically, he is now scared to eat his food, which is not healthy for him. I do, however, applaud the culprit for scaring the Scarecrow."

"Which one is that again?" Galatea asked, not looking up from her dishes.

"Tall, skinny guy, looks like a scarecrow." Leandra answered before the Riddler could. "Pretty hands, like a pianist. Paints his nails black sometimes."

"Do you check out everyone's manicure?" Ratchet rolled her eyes.

"Only when it comes to men with nice hands." Leandra grinned.

"What's his real name?" Galatea repeated her question.

"Doctor Jonathan Crane."

Galatea finally turned away from her dishes, looking at Edward with dark pupilless eyes and a frown. She either had a horrible case of resting bitch face or she hated the Riddler. Both was possible. "The one that made the candy? He can chill out. I'm sure whoever's doing this does not give a shit about him."

"That's great to hear, miss..."

"Zervalli." Galatea introduced herself.

"Thank you, miss Zervalli." 

Galatea Zervalli was a Gothamite woman of Mediterranean descent. Her Greek nose and thick curly hair made her look like ancient statue, which was unfortunate, because she was admitted in Arkham just as Doctor Strange had started his ‘Pygmalion project’ and she was too good of a candidate to overlook.

She was sentenced to spend time in psychiatric hospital after stabbing her wife in a fit of post-partum depression, which she (with full support of the stabbed wife) tried to cure with herbal medication, instead of the prescribed antidepressants.

She was moved from Arkham to an actually good hospital in Metropolis as soon as her wife woke up from the coma. But at that point the harm was already done. Strange had managed to slow down her circulatory system to give her body the pale marble like look she had to this day, along with the blind-like eyes usually reserved for Pyg's dolls.

But none of that was Riddler's problem. He just went to sleep with the satisfying feeling of mystery well solved... Or he tried to.

"You still owe me the massage." Scarecrow wouldn't let him just close his eyes and bask in his victory.

"I owe you nothing, but I will do it out of a misplaced affection for your pathetic self." Riddler got up from his bed and walked to Scarecrow. Despite his harsh words, he placed a kiss on the other man's lips. It was casual. Maybe even too tender for two hardened criminals.

"You look so self-pleased, there's no point in asking whether you solved the case or not." Scarecrow asked when their lips parted.

"Indeed, all pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly." Riddler sat behind his partner, once again spreading the cream over his back.

Scarecrow smirked. "All except Zsasz and the rest."

"I was right!" Riddler dug his nails in Scarecrow's back like an angry cat. "They fit in it as the collateral!"

His tantrum only seemed to amuse Scarecrow. He allowed himself a smile before he turned serious. "So, you did, know if, I'm in the danger of being poisoned before dinner?"

"Naturally." Now it was Riddler's time to smirk.

"And you didn't tell me why?"

"I don't know, maybe because early today you were threatening me with exposing my supposed imperfections to the world?"

"I did no-" Scarecrow shook his head. "Fuck you, Edward."

"You wish."

"Your narcissism makes you infantile. It's like dealing with a child." Scarecrow hid his face in his hands. "So, am I in danger of being poisoned or not?"

"You tell me. I stand in crowds yet walk no ground, I mark the years without a single sound, I tell a story without a tongue, of heroes praised and legends sprung. What am I?" If Scarecrow looked back at the Riddler he would’ve seen his eyes spark as he told his riddle.

"A statue. It was the gal Strange tried to turn into a living statue.” He took a deep breath. “Galatea wasn’t it, like the legend?”

“Indeed. Strange was never the most original man.”

“So, am I in danger?”

“You’re irrelevant to her.”

“That’s a no, then?”

“For someone telling me that ‘It’s just diarrhea, Edward.’ You seem pretty scared of it.”

“I’d like to avoid it given the chance.”

Riddler laughed, continuing his massage the entire banter. “She agreed not to poison you.”

There was real relief on Scarecrow’s face. Finally relaxing, he leaned back into his partner’s touch.

“I told her she should poison few more people at random to set Batman off her trail. As a treat.”

“Of course you did.”