"Be a man", Edward had told himself.
Told himself took a whole new meaning in his peculiar circumstances. He wished he could silence himself. Both versions of himself: the one who nagged and mocked and taunted, and the one who couldn't quite refrain from blurting out riddles.
He wished he had not listened to himself.
"I could have told you it would end that way", his reflection commented. "I mean, when I said you'd do better if she was a little afraid of you, I was not pulling your leg."
Ed breathed in. It hurt. Niceness was not a crime, was it? Acting nice did not make you naive. It did not make you stupid. He was perfectly able of being scary. Maybe he did not want to.
Except he did.
"Except you do", his other self repeated. "And you know I am right, don't you? Can't you see the pattern? Boyfriend after boyfriend, all of them bastards, all of them violent… And you go to her with your flowers and your stuttering and your puppy eyes. She doesn't want a man she can knock over with a feather. Of course she said no."
"SHUT. UP!", Ed screamed, grabbing a bottle of deodorant from the top of the sink and throwing it at the mirror.
It shattered, but his duplicate just laughed.
"The truth hurts, heh?"
Edward ground his teeth.
"I don't think you'd fare much better", he muttered.
He jumped back as his other self appeared next to him, nearly tangible. The hallucination smirked.
"Want to put that to the test?"
###
Ed flickered between himself and the other. It was terrifying, that loss of control. Every now and then, it was elating, when he heard yet another joke at his expense and came up with a comeback that made the entire room turn quiet. A sharp mind, not wrapped in compulsion and awkwardness, was a beautiful thing. No more politeness, just cold hard truth. Finally.
He was afraid, however, and he kept himself and himself as far away as possible from Miss Kringle. Not that he wanted to be near her that soon, really. Her "what do I have to tell you to make you understand I'll never be interested?" still stung. He did not trust the other him to care about her opinion if he tried to seduce her.
Not that he did try, surprisingly. Maybe he had forgotten about his "putting it to the test" challenge.
"If you have not, I have not", his voice said. "I'm just waiting for the best opportunity."
"I will not let you have an opportunity!"
The very next day, Ed bumped into Miss Kringle on his way to the parking lot.
She apologized first, then stilled, and cleared her throat. She probably wondered if he had bumped into her on purpose. Why wouldn't she have believed that? His feelings had been clear for months.
He felt himself slip away. His other self smiled, sheepish.
"It's all my fault", he said. "I am afraid I was not paying attention when I really should have. I'm so…"
It was a parody of everything Edward. The tone, the look, the awkwardness… But his alter-ego dropped the act as he spotted the thick makeup on Miss Kringle's face.
"Ooooh, all black and blue again! What a surprise", he railed. "Did officer Doughtery come back or did you find a new boyfriend?"
She froze.
Ed screamed internally.
"I don't see what you mean", she replied, huffing and standing up straighter.
His other self laughed.
"Seriously, what is the matter with you? Is it that you have no self-esteem, or do you just enjoy being degraded?" - He clicked his tongue. - "People like you are pathetic."
The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but the anger and disbelief kept her mute. Ed's inner monster just walked away, smirking.
"What was that?" Edward screamed, horrified. "Is that what you call faring much better?"
"That is exactly what I call faring much better", the other him replied, unconcerned. "Going back to one's abusers, over and over again? At least, now, that idiot is out of our hair."
Edward paused, but he knew there was something else, because he was himself.
"I thought you wanted her."
His alter-ego erupted in laughter.
"Don't be ridiculous", he said. "I wouldn't sink that low."
###
There was no mention of putting things to the test anymore, but Edward felt predatory, and he knew the other Edward was lying in wait. But, save for the occasional sharp remark, the monster kept still.
He kept still.
And still.
And still.
Until he didn't.
"Is everything alright with detective Gordon?", he asked Leslie Thompkins as he walked into the M.E.'s exam room, after eavesdropping on one of her conversations with her significant other.
He sounded concerned, but all he felt was dark satisfaction, because James Gordon had been lying to her face - or at least omitting the most important details of a very sanitized truth - and the woman knew it. The detective had been doing that very same thing since his reinstatement. Leslie was neither blind nor weak, however. She was observing, and keeping track of the lies and silences. Anyone could see that.
She smelled of roses and jasmine, not simply "nice", and Ed's other self kept just close enough to her to catch the scent without walking into her personal space.
Edward finally registered what he had been meaning by "faring better".
Leslie blinked, startled out of her thoughts, and hesitated as she processed the question.
"It's fine. He had a bad day", she replied.
The alter-ego smiled, kindly.
"Can I help you with anything?"
"If you are not busy, I have five boxes worth of supplies to organize", she said. "You'll be rewarded by cookies that pretend to be homemade. It's written on the box, anyway."
Ed's other self forced himself to pause for a moment, to fake an awkwardness he did not feel, then commented that "it sounded delicious". He helped with the boxes, in cheerful silence, and waited to have only a few bottles left to move to the cabinets to talk again.
"You know", he said, without turning to her. "If you need to talk to someone, I'm here."
There was a short pause, an hesitation, then the doctor replied, with a smile in her voice.
"I'm alright, Edward. But it's very nice of you to be concerned."
"It's only natural. And I'm glad to hear that."
###
The alter-ego's game was subtle, calculated. It was a waiting game, too, and he took his time, giving full control to Edward up to the point he saw an opportunity to strengthen his trap. It was all in the details: he would not have commented on Jim, but he made sure to follow him with his eyes when he left Leslie after a talk that had not gone so well. He made sure to frown in disapproval when he saw the cop be too terse or too distant. He made sure to meet Leslie's eyes, by accident, when her doubts and faint anger could be read on her face, and he made sure what she saw in his eyes was "you are right to feel angry", "I see it too", "he should not treat you that way".
"You act… Different, lately", she told him on a lunch break, as they were eating Chinese over the autopsy table.
Edward tried to answer, but he was pushed down inside himself.
The other blinked.
"Different?"
"More…Confident", she replied. "Calmer. Also, I don't know if it is related, but you are eating your onions."
The alter-ego chuckled, shaking his head in embarassment.
"I-I… Please keep it quiet, but.. I've been seeing a psychiatrist. Trying medication. I… Felt…"
He breathed in, faking emotions he mocked in Edward.
She took his hand.
"I felt like… Sometimes, you have to let go of what keeps you down. Sometimes you have to… Admit… You are not the best you can be. And you should always be the best you can be."
She nodded.
"It's good to take action when you are unhappy", she said. "Many people don't, especially with the stigma around mental health."
The alter-ego took a deep breath, pursed his lips, nodded.
"I think it's not just mental health. I see so many people… Going through bad things, day after day, and thinking they cannot leave."
If Leslie understood the jab at her reputation with Jim Gordon, she showed no sign of it.
"Is the treatment going well? No averse effects?"
Ed's other self looked down at her hand. It was still on his.
"What kind of tree is carried in your hand?" he blurted out.
It was surprising. So far, he had not asked a single riddle. Not one. And he had fought in vain to keep that one in. Voicing it had made him furious.
Leslie blinked.
"I…Mmh, let me think."
The alter-ego's hand tensed under hers, and he stared at the corner of the room.
"Palm!", she exclaimed.
"Yes."
She squeezed his hand.
"I'm alright, Leslie. But it's very nice of you to be concerned."
###
"She sees us as a friend", Ed affirmed, facing his mirror with determination.
"Is this supposed to dishearten me?" his reflection replied. "Am I what, supposed to collapse into sobs? Whine over how unfair it is that I have been friendzoned? Because I'm such a nice guy, and she should fall for me and not assholes like Jim Gordon?"
"Stop saying things like that!"
"Stop thinking things like that. Or chill a little bit."
"She won't leave him", Ed pointed out.
"Ah, well, I guess I'll just have to kill him and dissolve his body, then."
"Don't you DARE!"
"Relax. It's not like I'll have to."
Edward threw a bottle of shampoo at the mirror. The bottle bounced and hit him in the chest. The other laughed.
"You're not a good person", Ed said. "You don't deserve to have her."
"We're not a good person, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! What's the matter with that? I love her. I will treat her right."
"You are me. You can't love her. I love Miss Kringle."
"And you'd never allow yourself to love the confident girl, the beautiful girl, the normal girl, the one who smells like jasmine, would you? You much more comfortable loving, basically, a female version of yourself. Masochistic, abused, weak."
"Shut up!"
"I can fare better", his reflection said. "I can do better, because I'm free, and I know who I am."
###
For a monster, the other played his cards right. He waited, and was present, always ready to lend a listening ear to a growingly disheartened Leslie. She tried not to complain, but when a relationship dissolved, when a partner kept closing doors and keeping secrets, the pain had to find an outlet. She did not complain much, and she said very little of import, but what mattered was that Ed - monster Ed, the predator - was always there to listen and understand.
He knew what she thought, two days before she thought it.
His concern might not have been genuine, but his disapproval of Gordon's behavior was.
He loved her, and wanted her, and Edward could measure how much (or how little) personal space she needed, and how that space shrunk from day to day. He could count the touches, and their duration. He could not see the glimpses of guilt on her face, but his other self never failed to notice them. She was slowly, ever so slowly, being lured into a trap.
It closed on her a little more each day.
"Have you eaten?" the alter-ego would ask when she stayed in the precinct late in the evening, waiting for Jim to return from an investigation or a talk with a friend.
She would say no, and the monster would offer to eat out.
They'd go as friends, of course. But they meals lasted longer and longer and, more and more frequently, Gordon would be back before them, and be the one left waiting.
Ed could think ten moves ahead, and he knew what that meant.
###
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