Being Wrong
By Indiana
Characters: Alan (Riddlerbot OC), Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma [Scriddler]
Synopsis: Alan couldn't go any longer without answers.
I need to talk to you.
He knew it was probably a bad idea. That Jonathan probably wanted nothing to do with him and would just as soon throw him out as do anything he asked. But he was tired of the clearly biased answers his dad gave him. There were a few things he needed to ask Jonathan directly, and though he may not get any answers he could at least try for some.
Jonathan had been in the same room as before, luckily enough, so Alan had not had to go looking around the building for him. He looked at Alan pensively. "I've seen you before, haven't I," he said finally. "You're the one who asked about the hot chocolate. And you were there when I went to the Orphanage to talk to Edward."
Alan was taken aback. Jonathan had been able to recognise him! He hadn't expected Jonathan to be that smart, or that observant. He nodded.
"What are you here for this time?"
Alan handed him a cellphone, which he could send text messages through directly. I would like to ask you some questions.
Jonathan sighed, putting the phone down on the table behind him. He was sitting in the chair in front of it, though it was facing the direction of the door. "You seem to be unaware of the fact that most people are not available for conversations upon demand."
It's important, Alan insisted. Jonathan got up and locked the door, then removed his hood and mask. He folded the mask onto the bed and sat down, disengaging the brace on his leg with one hand that Alan noted was trembling. His hair was even more matted and tangled than Alan remembered, and he wondered why he didn't just cut it if it were so much trouble. Then again, Jonathan seemed to find wearing clean clothes troublesome.
"Very well," Jonathan said. "Feel free to take a seat. What is it?"
Alan did so, though he wasn't sure why, there on the floor in front of Jonathan. Do you love my dad?
Jonathan frowned at him after reading that. "Your dad? Were you not – no. You're one of the named original series, aren't you."
Alan hadn't actually intended to let that slip so soon but here they were. He just nodded.
"So what you're saying is you think of Eddie as your father."
Dad, Alan corrected. He's my dad. Eddie? He could gather that was a short form of Edward, but he hadn't actually expected Jonathan to be so familiar. Jonathan folded his hands together.
"Doubtless he already told you the answer to that."
Alan hesitated.
Sometimes I let him believe what he wants.
Jonathan nodded, somewhat approvingly, he thought. "And what benefit would there be to me to pretend such a thing were true?"
If he believes you love him, he'll be willing to do things for you maybe he shouldn't be.
"If he's feeling particularly self-sacrificial." Jonathan glanced at the phone. "Did he ever tell you that he saved my life?"
Alan had to admit that he hadn't mentioned it.
"That's not something you do because someone else cares for you," Jonathan said. "In the line of work we pursue, it would have been deeply in his favour to let me die. To ignore the message he received and abandon me to the elements. But he did not. There would be no point to me pretending to care about him, as he has already proven he will go out of his way merely to keep me alive. There is no need for me to allow him to believe anything; whether it was true or not, he still feels the same way."
Alan hated it, but that seemed to make sense.
"Therefore the lie would not benefit me in any way. The truth, however… that did."
Did?
"He hasn't told you very much about our relationship, has he." Alan declined to answer, but mostly because he got the impression that Jonathan's studying eyes already knew the answer. "Edward and I met a long time ago. Our relationship is not recent, nor part of a passing whim on either of our parts. It has been ongoing twenty-odd years now. So you may have come here with the intentions of convincing me I am no good for him, using the very little evidence you have gathered and the mere handful of knowledge you have about both of us, but in doing so you have proven your naiveté. I have known him a lot longer than you ever will. Your understanding of him is limited and, in all probability, innocent. You have for some reason decided to ascribe all of his misfortune to me. That is not so. He is far more complicit in his own personal damage than you are willing to admit."
Alan didn't know what to say. How had he known all of that? This conversation had gone very bad, very quickly.
"Yes, I recognised you," Jonathan said. "Yes, I have an idea of your thinking. You are doubtless very intelligent, but you are still young. You still think in simple ways. I have spent much of my life devoted to learning the nuances of thought. Motivations. Behaviours. You would need to be a great deal more clever to deceive me. You have the emotional logic of a young child: you see your parental figure as infallible, and if something unfortunate happens you believe it to be out of his power."
He gave Alan a moment to consider that, but he didn't want to. He wanted to get up and leave. He didn't want to know any more. Jonathan was not at all what Alan had thought he was.
"Your intentions are admirable. You want to protect him, and you have concluded I am the corrupting force. I am not. He in fact was already on this road several years before I set foot on it. He knows very well where he is headed, and why and how he is getting there."
Alan folded his hands together and looked at the floor. He felt as though he were learning something he had never imagined existed, but now wished he had never discovered.
"What is your name?" Jonathan said, softly. Almost gently, but there was too much of a silken edge for that. Alan suddenly realised he could probably entice just as much from people with his tone as he did with his words. He contemplated not answering, but what would be the point? Jonathan had been right. He had intended on coming in here and telling Jonathan to leave his dad alone. But maybe he should change that plan to just listening to what Jonathan had to say instead. He had to remain careful, because he was learning that experience factored in a great deal towards how interactions went, but just because he'd been a little wrong didn't mean he couldn't still advise Jonathan on maybe being a little nicer sometimes. He didn't yet know how reasonable Jonathan was, though.
Alan, he sent. Jonathan seemed almost to smile.
"After Turing," Jonathan said.
You know who Turing was?
"Eddie mentions him periodically. I told you. We have known each other a long time. I know all of his interests, all of his favourite people and places. Despite what you seem to think, we are actually quite good friends."
If you're such good friends why did you ask to take a break from him? See him wile his way out of that!
Jonathan frowned. "I didn't."
He said -Actually, he never had said who had initiated the break. Alan had just convinced himself Jonathan had. Jonathan looked at him for a moment.
"He did," Jonathan told him. "I asked if he had some free time. He said it was in our best interests to take a break. Which is correct. It is in our best interests."
He said you only came over when you weren't feeling well anyway, Alan sent. Maybe he just didn't feel like taking care of you.
Jonathan rubbed at his eyes. Some of the makeup around them came off on his fingertips. "He's not as different from me as you seem to believe. Has it ever occurred to you that he has not been to see me in all the time you've been… on?"
Alan tried to come up with an answer to that, but couldn't.
"Eddie and I are the same kind of person," Jonathan said. "Our work swallows our lives, and when we have a moment to realise just what we have allowed to happen, we turn to the one person we can trust to reassure us. Everything you are upset with me for, he has done himself."
Alan really didn't like the fact that Jonathan made so much sense. He'd brought up so many things Alan had never even tried to think of before, and now that he'd heard all of this he realised how foolish and arrogant he'd been, to believe he knew more after a few months than Jonathan had known for years.
"There is no need for you to think differently of him than you do," Jonathan told him. "You merely need to understand he is far more complex than you realised. There is no one demon in a man's life. More often than not, he is his own. In your mind, you decided that loving someone meant to protect them from everything, including their own faults. That is what a child does, and I say this not to indicate it being a detrimental belief. But one comes to realise over time that it is a longer process than that. It is simple to love blindly. It is hard to know someone to their core and care for them despite anything you see there. Sometimes it is better to let them make their mistakes and instead be there afterward, though it is not always an easy decision to make." He glanced at the phone again, but Alan had nothing to say. He felt almost as if his dad had been yelling at him for the last ten minutes. "When you asked him that question, what did he tell you?"
He said you did, but not all the time, Alan answered with reluctance. No doubt Jonathan had some explanation for that too that Alan had not considered. Jonathan nodded.
"It's true. He is a difficult man to love. He knows that, and does not fault me when doing so becomes exhausting." Alan wondered how it was Jonathan made it so that a person could feel him looking at them. "Doesn't it exhaust you sometimes, Alan?"
He shouldn't have come here.
"When you tell him the root of his problems and he ignores you? When you feel as though you must physically fight him to get him to listen? When he allows himself to fall apart because he knows you won't allow it?"
Okay, Alan said. I was wrong. I'm going to go now. And he stood up with intentions of collecting the phone, but Jonathan was looking him in the eye all of a sudden and he found the concept of moving forward to be a bad idea.
"What are you going to do with this knowledge?" Jonathan asked softly.
Why did you even answer me in the first place? Alan demanded. Why didn't you just send me away?
"Do you truly believe Eddie never mentioned you to me?"
Alan almost wanted to sit down again. He hadn't thought of that.
"Of course he did. Never by name, and he never referred to himself as your parent – no doubt because he did not want to discuss it – but of course he spoke of you. He gave me no real means to identify you, but you did so for me. I agreed to speak with you because I already suspected who you were."
Alan sat back down on the floor, feeling defeated. You're just as smart as he is, he sent reluctantly. Jonathan regarded the message for a moment.
"You didn't answer the question. What are you going to do with what you're learnt?"
Alan was quiet a moment. What should I do?
"Nothing," Jonathan said. "You need do nothing. Appreciate that he has put on his best face for you, and that is part of why you believed him faultless. He wanted you to have something he didn't have."
He didn't want a son, Alan found himself saying. Jonathan paused.
"Of course he didn't. Did he ever tell you what his father used to do to him?"
Not really.
"Then I will not say. But he did not want a son because not being his father has been the sole motivator of his entire life. That is what he lives for. To be the antithesis of what his father was. He did not want a son because he did not trust himself not to make the same mistakes." Jonathan rubbed at the side of his nose. "Edward was unwanted by his own parents. He would have told you that only so that you knew you had changed his mind. Well I know how difficult that is."
I think you had a question for me, Alan said, a little hesitantly, but the text wouldn't show that. Jonathan frowned at the phone for a moment.
"Ah," he said. "I did. Tell me: is he well?"
It would probably be better if you asked him yourself.
"Can you drive?"
Not everything, but yes.
Jonathan reached over and slid the brace back onto his leg. "Then we may go back there together." He paused in what he was doing to look at Alan, and his glasses had slid down his nose some way. "He will be curious as to why you and I are anywhere near each other."
You can tell him if he asks why I was here, Alan decided, and Jonathan nodded. He moved his glasses back up his nose and donned his hood.
"Then let us proceed."
Jonathan's car was older than his dad's and in worse a state. The whole thing seemed dirty and tired, much as Jonathan did. He drove for some minutes quietly before he felt compelled to ask, Doesn't it bother you, to be like that?
Jonathan, thankfully, had brought the phone, and he looked at it somewhat tiredly. "Like what."
Like… you don't take care of yourself.
Jonathan sighed through his nose and looked out the window. Maybe Alan shouldn't have asked. He should have realised that not everyone would be as open to answering his questions as his dad was.
"It slips my mind. I have more important things to do."
You're going to have trouble doing things when you lose the use of your fingers.
Jonathan considered those on his free hand. "I see." Alan wasn't looking at him, but he did see the reflection of Jonathan's glasses flare inside of the rearview mirror. "But is this out of concern for me, or are you still trying to come up with reasons I am not good enough for Edward?"
Alan kept his hands as still on the wheel as possible. He honestly wasn't sure, but he had the sinking suspicion Jonathan was right. Again.
"He knows what I am," Jonathan said, softly, but with an edge that suggested finality. "He has known for a very long time. He, no doubt, does not mind your inquiries overmuch. I, however, have had enough. I have given you enough proof and you have talked to him enough yourself. I have no need to explain nor justify myself to you. I have done so up until now out of respect for him. I will do so no further."
I'm sorry, Alan said. He meant it, though he didn't want to have to say it.
"It is not my responsibility to overturn this bias you've developed. You have a brain. Use it."
He decided to say nothing else and drove the car in silence. Jonathan sat very still. Alan almost felt as though he wasn't there at all. He was so unsettling but somewhat intriguing at the same time, the way he figured things out just by looking at you. Alan thought he was beginning to understand why his dad liked him.
Alan parked the truck and looked over at the porch, where his dad was sitting with something in his mouth. He really hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. He was squinting at his phone, his glasses on top of his head. They really weren't helping him anymore, it seemed.
The both of them got out of the car and closed the doors, Alan a little too forcefully by mistake. "Edward," Jonathan said, nodding to him, and his dad looked up, dropping his phone.
"Jon," his dad said, softly and almost... awed. He put down the licorice he was holding and then looked at Alan, confusion creasing his brow. "Why is -"
"Your son had a few questions for me," Jonathan interrupted. "I believe they were answered to his satisfaction."
Alan didn't think Jonathan had missed the way his dad lit up a little when he had said 'your son', and this reassured Alan that his dad really was okay with him even if he was a boy. His dad's left hand was pressed against his knee. "I appreciate you... bringing him back, but I thought we were on a break, Jon."
"Oh, were we?" Jonathan sat down next to left on the porch and removed his hood, revealing that he wasn't wearing the mask. "It must have slipped my mind. Age, and all that."
"I suppose 'age, and all that' is why you've elected to sit here."
"No," Jonathan answered. "I merely wanted to." And he put his hand overtop Alan's dad's, and the way he looked at it was as though they'd never held hands in their entire lives. Alan sat down where he was, in front of them but not too close. Hopefully they would forget he was there, which organics tended to do when something was still for long periods of time.
"How have you been?" Jonathan continued, and his dad looked at the dirt path in front of them, though not at Alan.
"I don't know," he answered. "I've been... both waiting for this to end and wishing it never would." Jonathan slid his thumb under the hand he was holding, and Alan noted the contrast between them. Jonathan had long, elegant fingers that moved with precision, where his dad had broader, thicker hands which often seemed to gesture of their own accord. Actually… now that he was thinking about it differently, they complemented each other well.
He had been wrong to be so judgemental about someone he didn't know.
"Why did you come here?" his dad asked suddenly, to which Jonathan did not react at all. He merely continued stroking the back of the hand he was holding with one slow thumb.
"I wanted to before. You told me not to."
"And you listened."
"I changed my mind." The way Jonathan looked at the man next to him seemed… calculated. "Or would you prefer I left?"
"No!" His fingers tightened around Jonathan's beneath his hand. "That's not what I said."
"What are you saying?"
"Maybe… you could spend the night here." His dad sounded guarded, as though he expected Jonathan to refuse. Jonathan looked away from him.
"I shouldn't."
"No one's going to notice if you're missing for a night."
"That's very encouraging, Edward."
His dad snatched his hand back. "Well I'm not staying out here much longer." Jonathan's eyes were appraising.
"Only until I leave, then."
"If you intended to leave so quickly, you never should have come." His dad was squeezing his hands together in his lap.
"I wanted to see you." Jonathan's voice was calm and nonplussed. He didn't let anything get to him. Alan could probably learn from that. His dad too, really.
"Well you've –"
"Don't say that. It's childish, even for you." His dad didn't move when Jonathan put a hand on his arm. "Why are you acting this way, hm? I would have thought you to be a little more pleased that I came."
"I'm waiting for the reason," his dad answered, somewhat reluctantly. "I'm waiting to hear what it is you came here for. What you want me to do."
"Nothing. I came to see you. That's all."
His dad folded his arms and said nothing.
"Are you looking for proof of my claims?" Jonathan asked softly. His dad cast a resentful look at his licorice, as though he imagined it would treat him better.
"I would appreciate some evidence, yes. You never come here just to see me."
When Jonathan placed one hand along the left side of his jaw, his dad's face instantly softened. He opened his mouth, but Jonathan placed his free index finger against it for a moment before leaning forward and capturing the lips in his own. The entire action was committed with great care and something approaching reverence, and when his dad reached for the back of Jonathan's head Jonathan pulled himself away. Before Jonathan could sit forward again his dad grabbed the hand that had formerly been alongside his face. "Stay here," he demanded. "If only to clean up a little. Your hair is in a state, Jonathan. I don't know how you let it get that bad."
Jonathan ghosted a hand over it. "I don't know what to do with it," he admitted.
"I know how to fix it."
Jonathan almost smiled. "Your method of enticement is an offer to style my hair? It's a new one, I must say."
"And someplace warm and clean to sleep," his dad said. He was looking directly into Jonathan's eyes, his own dead serious. Jonathan laughed. It was low and husky and brief, but it seemed genuine, inasmuch as Alan could identify such a thing.
"The trouble is I am unsure of which kind of sleeping you intend, Edward."
Alan had no idea what that meant, but he took from the fact that his dad giggled and looked away, Jonathan's face turning what he thought was fond, that it was a joke of some kind. His dad bit his lower lip, smiling.
"I hope it won't disappoint to know I mean the boring sort. I'm exhausted and it's all your fault. Your infirmity is rubbing off on me."
"Poor little prince," Jonathan said, kissing his brow softly. "Suffering solely for my benefit. I hardly deserve you at all."
"Damn right you don't," his dad said, pushing the bag of licorice into his pocket and standing up. He leaned at the waist towards Jonathan, one arm pressed against his back and the other offered with fingers a-splay. "Shall we?"
Jonathan's smile was the easiest expression Alan had ever read on his disfigured face.
When they had walked up to the door his dad glanced behind him and said, "Alan?"
So he had remembered he was there. He should have guessed he would. His dad didn't miss much. Yes?
"You can find something to do, eh?"
Of course. He wasn't going to follow them now.
His dad nodded. "I'll talk to you later."
/
Alan really, really didn't want to bother them – now that he understood things better, he wanted to leave them alone to just be friends together – but this seemed to be urgent. He walked anxiously into the bedroom. He had no idea what Jonathan was like when someone woke him up.
To his surprise, Jonathan was already awake. He was leaning against the headboard and staring at the wall, though his glasses were off. Alan's dad was lying on top of him, one of Jonathan's hands in his hair and the fingers of the other tracing the faint lines on the bare back beneath them. He regarded Alan once he'd come a little farther into the room. His hair actually looked a lot nicer now that it wasn't all stuck together in a tangle.
"What," he said, tonelessly. Alan did not see the phone anywhere so he just held up his dad's and handed it to Jonathan. He looked at it bemusedly.
"I'm going to have to guess he needs to answer this."
Alan nodded.
Jonathan pressed his lips very close to the ear nearest them and said in a low voice, "Eddie."
His dad's eyes moved somewhat but that was about it. Jonathan stroked his hair. "It seems you have a need to answer the phone, old friend."
"What?" His dad rolled off of Jonathan and reached for the bedside table, where the phone usually was.
"Eddie. It's in my hand."
He deposited his arm onto Jonathan's stomach, palm up, and Jonathan shook his head in exasperation and put the phone into it. His dad dropped it and Jonathan had to put it into his hand again.
"What," his dad snapped when he finally got the phone to his ear. He didn't look any happier about whatever was said on the other end. He sat up and shoved the blanket off his waist. He was wearing only one of his pairs of green boxers. He tossed the phone onto the bed.
"What is it?" Jonathan asked.
"Some moron thinks he can cross me," his dad grumbled, putting his legs over the edge of the bed. "Well, he isn't going to be around long enough to do it."
Jonathan frowned, or at least Alan thought that's what he was doing. "You're going to kill him?"
"No, Jonathan, I'm going to give him a raise and a promotion." He shook his head and yanked open one of the dresser drawers. Jonathan sat up straight, wincing a little.
"It is my recollection you believed going that far was wasteful."
"Times change."
"It is also my recollection you don't provide people the privilege of their demise by your hand."
His dad pulled on one of his undershirts. "I have to do everything myself these days."
"The man I know does not kill for trifles. He plays the long game. He waits for those who left to return, because he knows they will be more loyal then than ever they were."
His dad stepped into his pants and did not answer.
"The man I know would not sully his hands on a routine cleanup job, either. He has more important things to do with his time."
His dad's jaw was tightly bunched but he only pulled on his shirt.
"You have gone too far, Edward. You need to stop."
His dad abruptly whirled to face him, whipping the belt he was holding to the floor. "How dare you," he snapped, making Alan jump a little. "How dare you, of all people, tell me I have gone too far." His breathing had become unsteady and his hand was clenched white.
Jonathan, to Alan's puzzlement and surprise, did not react at all, and when he spoke again his tone was quite even. "Despite what you seem to think I still am able to rationalise and reason through everything that I choose to do. You, who once prided himself on his logical mind, has become irrational and victim of spontaneity. You don't have a reason for what you're about to do. You're just doing it, without thinking it through. You don't need to do this yourself. You've invented a reason to do so, somehow, but I know. And you know, somewhere. You know this isn't right."
His dad turned back towards the dresser, his eyes moving a little too quickly to really be searching for anything.
"Do you remember your promise, Edward?"
"Of course I do," his dad answered grudgingly. He pulled another belt out of the drawer.
"It needs to be fulfilled, lest these endeavours fully destroy the both of us."
"I know what I'm doing, Jon," his dad snarled, and stormed out of the room. Jonathan watched him soberly, and Alan thought he might have thinned his lips. He carefully folded the blanket aside and stood up, albeit fairly slowly. Alan thought perhaps Jonathan wouldn't want him hanging around, but there was something he needed to say.
Once Jonathan was dressed Alan decided he probably still had the phone and said, I'm sorry for what I tried to do.
Jonathan spread his hands and looked down at his clothes. He searched them with no success for a few moments before finding the phone and looking at it.
"For what?"
I wanted to convince you to stop talking to my dad.
"Ah." Jonathan shrugged a little. "It was not altogether an erroneous goal, considering what little you knew."
I don't… He found himself trying to make sure he had the right words. Jonathan was smart too, almost as smart as Alan's dad even, and so it was important he was articulate. I don't really understand everything – I mean, you talk to each other kind of weird sometimes – but I think I would, someday.
Jonathan walked towards the doorway, putting a hand on Alan's shoulder as he passed. "He is a difficult man to care for, but so am I."
Alan could understand that.
Before Jonathan had quite made it out of sight – he didn't seem to be able to walk very fast – Alan said, Jonathan?
"Yes?"
Did you end up sleeping?
Jonathan looked behind him. His brow was furrowed. "A little. Why?"
You said you didn't know if my dad actually wanted to do the right kind of sleeping.
Jonathan stared at him, rubbing one side of the phone with his thumb. Abruptly his face cleared and he almost smiled.
"Ah. Yes. It was a little of both."
Both?
"Yes, both. He has his needs and it had begun to escape me how simply amusing he is. Among other things." Jonathan did smile now, just a little. "You should ask him about it later."
He was going to have to, because this exchange had told him nothing. Okay. Do you want me to take you back home?
"No. It would be unwise to return with you." With that he continued on his way, and since Alan had decided the next thing he should do was see where Ada was he had to wait a little bit to give Jonathan time to make it far enough he wouldn't think Alan was following him. Still, as he passed by he heard Jonathan laughing to himself. He would have liked to know what about their conversation had been so funny, but maybe his dad would know.
/
Sometime later Alan had gone back upstairs in search of Ada, yet again, when he saw that the bathroom light was on. His dad was home! Alan was a little confused as to why there was blood on his hands, though. Either he'd used a knife this time or he'd shot this person from very close range.
Did you stab him, Dad?
His dad didn't even move, just kept washing his hands. "No. I used the gun."
Why you have blood on your hands, then?
"I don't," his dad answered. Alan stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what that meant. His dad's voice was very flat and his face held no hints. When he turned the water off his hands were still very pink and beaded with blood. Alan had only seen this once before.
Well… even if your hands don't have blood on them, do you want me to wrap them anyway?
When his dad looked at him, his eyes still seemed disturbingly distant. "All right."
So Alan got the first aid kid from under the sink, and his dad sat against the wall and crossed his legs, propping one arm over his knees so that his hand was accessible. Alan didn't at all mind cleaning up when his dad hurt himself – in fact he preferred to, since his dad sometimes just ignored it and kept on doing whatever he was doing – but something about this made him sad. He wasn't sure what. Maybe this was one of his dad's problems he was keeping to himself.
When Alan had finished his dad pulled on his work gloves and stood up. "I have a generator that requires attention," he said. "Are you coming?"
Yes, Alan answered, pushing the kit back into the cabinet. Are we driving?
His dad shook his head. "It isn't far."
They must have been going to the closest racetrack because his dad took him down into the old waterway, and he argued with himself a little bit before asking, Dad?
"Yes."
Can I hold your hand?
His dad looked at him as though he had just asked something very strange. "You don't have to ask."
Alan rubbed his fingers together. I thought it might be just a thing you did with Jonathan.
"Oh. No. There are some things, but that isn't one of them." His dad removed his right glove and offered the freed hand to Alan, who took it eagerly. His dad's hand was strong and warm, just as he'd imagined it.
"Son," his dad asked after a minute or so, "do I want to know what kinds of questions you were asking Jonathan?"
I asked him if he loved you, Alan answered, and he had to admit he was a little apprehensive when he saw his dad's jaw bunch. I didn't think he did. But I was wrong.
His dad glanced at him, eyes a little wider for a moment.
I didn't know there was more than one kind, and more than one way, Alan explained. But he explained it to me and I understand now. I'm not mad at him anymore.
His dad was quiet.
"That's very grown-up of you," he said. Alan did not entirely know what that meant.
"Don't grow up too fast," his dad continued, more softly, and when Alan looked up at him he just saw that same sort of emptiness he had seen just twenty minutes ago.
Dad? Alan was a little scared now.
"Are you sure you don't want to go play with Ada?"
No! Ada just wants to play with her colouring books all the time and she doesn't even colour in the lines.
"She's not supposed to."
Why are the lines there, then?
"I meant that children generally don't colour within the lines until they're older."
I don't know what you're trying to say at all but I just want to spend time with you! That's all I want!
"If you're sure," his dad said. Alan was getting annoyed with him now but he instead he stood still and pulled back on his dad's hand when he didn't notice.
Stop, Alan said. His dad turned around. Before he could keep arguing Alan hugged him as hard as he thought was safe, and he didn't let go until his dad did. Then he told him as sternly as he could, I don't know what you're talking about, but stop. I do what I want and I am where I want to be.
"All right," his dad said, and Alan took his hand again. "I may need to be reminded of that now and again."
I'll remember, Alan told him. Hey, Dad?
"Yes, Alan."
What's your favourite thing about Jonathan?
"My favourite – " His dad put his free hand in his pocket and continued walking. "I suppose if I had to choose it would be… he always tells me what I don't want to hear."
That was a bit of an odd choice. Why?
His dad took a long breath through his nose. "Because I don't like being wrong. And I can be… unpleasant when confronted with such a circumstance. But he forces me to face it. I respect him greatly for that."
And he does it because he respects you.
"That's right."
Do you think I respect you?
His dad licked his lips. "I haven't thought about it. Generally one does not consider that until their child is grown."
I do, Alan said. Sometimes I want to tell you things but I don't want to hurt your feelings.
"You'll learn when it's a good time to bring things up," his dad said.
Dad?
"Yes."
I also wanted to tell you I think Jonathan is good for you. I was wrong, when I said he wasn't before.
"I'm glad you think so," his dad said, opening the door to the track and waving Alan ahead of him. "I have to admit I was not entirely sure how I was going to have the both of you in one house with that sort of animosity between you."
There isn't any now. It's all okay.
They worked quietly on the generator for a while, which worried Alan quite a lot. What else did he need to say to make things better? Dad?
"Mm."
Are you all right?
His dad pushed back a bundle of wires, tying them off. "Are you asking because I haven't been saying anything?"
Yes. He handed his dad the cutters so as to remove the extra ends.
"I'm fine," his dad said, accepting the tool and squinting at his target. "Sometimes I just need to think, son."
You can tell me what you're thinking about!
His dad put aside the bits of wire, smiling a little. "Some things I need to turn over with myself. However."
Yes? He took the cutters and watched as his dad stood up, wincing and rolling his shoulders back slightly.
"Thank you for… going to see Jonathan, and bringing him back with you." He was staring off into the corner, though there was only dirt and a vague dripping in that direction. "You don't always realise you need something until you're reminded why you ever had it to begin with."
I didn't really go there for you, though, Alan admitted.
"I know that," his dad said. "No doubt your preferred aim at the time would have been to find an excuse to kill him. The outcome, however, is what matters."
He told me to ask you what the other kind of sleeping is.
"The other kind of what?" He was frowning slightly. "What are you – oh. Oh, of course he told you to ask me that."
So you do know what it is! Finally this mystery would be solved.
"I'm not telling you right now. Ask me later."
I've been waiting a whole twelve hours!
"Then you can wait twelve more. Let's get going."
But Dad –
"Hush, Alan. I have to go and murder someone."
Already?
"I have to put that old man out of his misery."
Oh, he was talking about Jonathan! Alan pulled on his arm. No!
His dad paused. "No?"
He's okay. And…
His dad waited, chewing on his tongue as far as Alan could tell.
He makes you smile, so… he can't be that bad.
Thankfully his dad relaxed at that. "I must admit he's good at that. Very well. I'll think of another way to torment him. Trust me, he deserves it."
Alan still wasn't sure, exactly, what was going on between Jonathan and his dad, but it seemed to make them happy so he was going to stop criticising it. His dad had been right when he had told Alan that he didn't know what he didn't know. So he was going to stop judging and instead watch and learn. That was the smart thing to do.
Author's note
The part about Edward going off to kill people even though he doesn't really know why is because there's a page in the Arkham Knight comic about a guy who gets caught up in the fear toxin and Riddler's like 'great, now I have to kill another assistant!'. I don't regard the comic as canon to the games because some of it makes no sense and some of it contradicts the game itself (that I remember, I just speedread it at the bookstore) but there are only like two Riddler pages. Anyway, in all of Arkhamverse other than in Arkham Knight Riddler doesn't do anything himself. He gets everyone else to do it for him, because he's got better things to do. But in Arkham Knight he's killing people, doing surgery on them, kidnapping them, he's doing it all personally. This is part of the beauty of his character arc, though: he's so far gone he's at the point where he's convinced himself the reason he's failing is because he isn't doing everything himself, so that's what he starts doing instead. He's wrong, but he doesn't know he's wrong and even when he does he doesn't want to think about it. He needs a real slap in the face to actually understand what he's done to himself (yes, I'm giving him one, hold your horses).