All By His Lonesome

Summary: They're back in Arkham Asylum, and Edward hasn't seen Jonathan since they got there.

Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Harley Quinn, Harvey Dent; mentions of Batman, Pamela Isley, the Joker and Oswald Cobblepot.

Pairings: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma. Implied (but abusive) Joker/Harley Quinn.

Warnings: swearing, implied abusive relationship, mentions of assault and bodily harm, brief mentions/implications of homophobia.

Notes: Edward goes through some loneliness when he and Jonathan are separated in the asylum.

All material owned by DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used).

(Also available on tumblr and AO3.)

…

Home again, Edward thought glumly as he and a few more of the dubbed 'insane' were led into the front gates of Arkham Asylum, hands cuffed and all forced to walk in a straight line. Jonathan walked in front of him, still in full costume and appearing as numb and emotionless as he always did when they were at the Asylum; it was a defence mechanism, Edward knew, and perhaps just a hint at how positively annoyed Jonathan was to be caught.

They'd been captured together, for they had worked together on a heist, and the Batman had to be getting used to finding them together at this point. Edward had spotted a quizzical look on his face when he'd caught them together the third time, but he had apparently shrugged off the newfound partnership; whether he knew how far that partnership went was anyone's guess. It wasn't like they chatted about daily life whilst sitting in the back of the Batmobile; that would be the day.

The new inmates were led inside and into a room where they kept the overalls, each handed one by the bored-looking guard, and then into the fitting room, and that was the last time Edward saw Jonathan since arriving at the asylum. Grabbing a uniform and being pushed along to the fitting room. By the time Edward had pulled on his overalls and handed over his suit, cane and bowler hat, he realised Jonathan was gone.

He looked for him as best he could, eyes travelling over everybody in the fitting room and finding no tall, gangly fellow or a head of rust-coloured hair, until he got called out for apparently ogling and was thumped in the arm and called a derogatory term by another inmate. Edward didn't have a chance to retaliate, for a guard stepped in and told them to break it up, and the Riddler was pushed out of the fitting room and escorted to his cell.

From there on out, it was just him, with no Jonathan Crane to provide company.

It started with curiosity.

In all the other times he and Jonathan were taken to Arkham Asylum, they were together as often and for as long as they could. Until they were put in their individual cells, then they met up again in the refectory to eat whatever slop was given to them together (or, in Edward's case, stare distastefully at it and wonder aloud how Jonathan could stomach it, to which Jonathan would always reply that he'd had worse) and then they'd relax together on the sofa in what the asylum had dubbed the 'relaxation room'. Just sit beside each other with whatever they were allowed to have that day - a pack of cards, a Rubik's Cube that Edward could finish over a hundred different times in a minute, a pen and notepad that Jonathan would steal pages from, a book if they got lucky - and soak in each other's presence. Then they would be led back to their cells and await the next time they could be together.

But, this time, there was no Jonathan, for Edward didn't find him in the refectory or relaxation room, and so Edward went through the routine alone. That made the curiosity begin. Where was Jonathan, if not in those two places? While the asylum was big, it was in no way an entertaining building and - between his cell, the refectory, the relaxation room, the yard and the bathroom - Jonathan would have no where else to go, and Edward knew Jonathan hated the yard, so that was ruled out, and he didn't believe for one second that his beloved was having bowel problems, so the bathroom was ruled out as well.

For extra measure, however, Edward did check. The yard was a quick, simple check because it was the least likely. The bathroom was a longer search. Who knows, perhaps there was a chance Jonathan had been using toilet water for his toxin this time - but no. No Jonathan Crane there, not in any of the cubicles, at any of the urinals or sinks.

For once, Edward was at a loss.

Two weeks in, he made some silly theory with himself that perhaps he was just missing Jonathan each time. After all, he didn't know what cell Jonathan had been put in; maybe he was on a different floor this time and their eating, relaxing and pissing times were different and thus Edward simply never caught him. The logical part of his brain - the biggest part of all - told him that was stupid, for the eating times, in the very least, were pretty much the same, there was no way he missed Jonathan - and that was when he realised: he was beginning to worry.

He didn't often have reason to worry about Jonathan; the only things that caused him to worry about him were lateness (for Jonathan, despite being the messiest man Edward had ever met, never missed a deadline) and when Scarecrow came out to play during any time except for heists and missions (for that put a toll on Jonathan more than any other). So, this - this was new. This was different, and Edward decided he didn't like it. He wasn't much one for worry and he didn't like worrying about Jonathan.

Edward tried to distract himself from it the best he could; he continued the acts of building houses with the cards, of reading the same book over and over, of doodling and scribbling on the notepad (in Jonathan's place, he stole a few pages, even taking the pen at the end of his relaxation time), of solving the Rubik's Cube over and over and over again. But the spot beside him on the sofa remained empty, for no other inmate at the time bothered to sit with him, and Edward tried to pretend having an empty spot beside him didn't hurt.

It had been him and Jonathan for months now, the two of them, always together, but now they were back in this godforsaken place and separated for a reason Edward didn't know of and that bothered him - not just the fact that his boyfriend had disappeared off the face of the earth, but that he didn't know something - and it was beginning to eat away at him and keep him up in the middle of the night and -

He realised, a month into incarceration, that he was getting scared. He was sure Jonathan would've enjoyed that, if even secretly.

It was when he was seated in the refectory, glaring down at the beige slop in his bowl, that he finally received company.

"Hiya, Eddie!"

Edward jumped at the voice, high-pitched and sudden, and looked over his shoulder as Harley jogged around the other side of the table and leapt onto the bench, opposite him. He nodded politely. "Harley."

Harley smiled widely at him, cheeks pressed into her fists and elbows on the table. Her lipstick was smeared and there were faint traces of mascara trails down her cheeks; Edward elected to ignore them for now, although the anger at the Joker (because no doubt this was his fault) would be a welcome distraction from the worry over Jonathan.

Harley's smile dropped as her gaze flicked to the spot beside him. Brow furrowing, she straightened slightly and looked back to him. "Where's Jonny?"

Edward sighed through his nose. This was the first time it had been spoken aloud, the abnormality of him being without Crane. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Didn't he get taken in with ya?"

"Yes, he did, but…that was the last time I saw him."

Harley's brow creased; she was as worried as he was. Understandable; she was slightly more of Jonathan's friend than she was his. Apparently, she and Dr. Crane had bonded in here sometime before he and Edward's relationship and so they held each other in good graces. Edward had seen them interact; he could've sworn they were each other's sibling figure.

"Where do ya think he is?"

"I don't know, Harley. I just said that." There was a pause. "…Sorry. I don't mean to sound rude."

"It's alright, Eddie." She sighed wistfully. "I hope Jonny's okay…"

Edward nodded. So did he. Green eyes relented their glaring at the slop in his bowl and looked to Harley, gentler despite his mood. "What about you? Taken in with anyone?"

Harley shook her head.

Edward's shoulders stiffened. He spoke carefully, "I…haven't seen Pamela around."

"Nah. Red got out a couple weeks ago. Saw her the other day; she's been alright, before ya ask."

Edward nodded. He tapped his fingers against the table's surface. Even more carefully, he began, "And -"

"Mr. J ran away," Harley interrupted, not looking at him anymore, but rather over his shoulder. "Soon as the cops showed up. I fell, like an idiot, but he kept runnin'."

Edward dared to peek at her; she looked about ready to burst into tears. The Riddler swallowed thickly, keeping himself from cursing the Joker out, and reached over to gently place his hand upon hers. He wasn't the best at providing comfort, especially not to a miserable young woman who had to deal with the same shit from her supposed beloved all the time, but he could make the effort - for a friend.

Her eyes flicked to him and he said, sincerely, "You are no idiot, Harley. If you were, I would have gotten up and walked away as soon as you sat down."

Harley giggled and sniffled, wiping a hand across her cheek despite there being no tears, and smiled sheepishly at him. "Thanks, Eddie."

"You're welcome." He pushed his bowl toward her. "Are you…Do you want any of this? I can't help but notice you have no food with you."

Harley shook her head and wiped the other dry cheek. "I ain't hungry, Eddie, but thanks."

"I am, but not for this garbage." He pushed it away from the two of them, wrinkling his nose at it in disgust.

Harley giggled again, then rested her cheeks in her hands once more and stared wistfully over Edward's shoulder. She pouted, brow creased, and muttered sadly, "…Jonny woulda eaten it."

Edward's own brow creased as his stomach became heavy again, heart aching. He willed himself to ignore it. "…Yes. He would've…"

If he were here.

Edward sighed and shook his head, then pushed himself to his feet. "Come on."

Harley looked up at him with those old puppy dog eyes. "Where're we goin'?"

"Relaxation room. Want me to teach you how to solve a Rubik's Cube in under thirty seconds?"

Harley's smile was so bright, so welcoming, it made Edward's heart swell and made him smile too. "Let's do it, Eddie!"

Edward chuckled. "Let's."

…

From there on out, Edward spent time with Harley. They went through his usual routine with Jonathan: ate together, relaxed together, escorted back to their cells together (or, as 'together' as they could, when Harley was right down the other end of Edward's corridor). It wasn't as peaceful as with Jonathan, though; Harley was much more excitable, much louder and more prone to the high-pitched squealing and shrieking that made Edward cringe and lean away from her. But it would do, at least until he had Jonathan back.

A month and a half had gone by since he last saw him.

Edward didn't think of he and Jonathan as attached at the hip; they did things apart all the time, be it crimes, research or house chores, but that was on the outside. In here, they only had each other, and now Edward didn't even have that luxury. None of his theories on Jonathan's whereabouts stuck with him either; for once, he really had no idea what the answer to a riddle was and it was eating away at him.

Besides…this was Jonathan. Didn't he have a right to worry? He felt like he did.

Apparently, his lonesome was becoming noticeable, for whilst he and Harley were sitting on the battered green sofa, with Edward advising Harley on which way to twist the Rubik's Cube now, they were approached by Dent, who guffawed and cocked his head as he grunted, "Haven't seen you with Crane lately, Nygma. What's a matter? Trouble in paradise?"

Edward frowned sharply and replied curtly, "Fuck off, Harvey."

This was the second time a guard had to step in to break up an altercation with Nygma, only this one really was an altercation; Edward would be nursing that busted lip for a while yet.

Wouldn't have been so quick to curse if he hadn't gone so long without seeing the good doctor, and Harvey had hit a sore spot, had poked the metaphorical bear that had been hibernating in the back of Edward's mind; what if Jonathan was…avoiding him? If he was, he was doing an awfully good job in a place where they only had a handful of places to go.

His mind relayed the events before they were captured; nothing on his side of the plan had gone too terribly wrong. Unreliable henchmen that belonged to him, sure, but he had done his part, Jonathan had done his; as usual, Batman was just two steps ahead of them. Was Jonathan blaming him for the heist going wrong? He couldn't do that! It'd been fine on Edward's end! Was he blaming him for the overall plan? It had been mainly Edward's doing…

Jonathan couldn't be blaming him for it, surely. He had never done so before, not even when Edward had accidentally fucked up. He couldn't be mad at him, he couldn't be avoiding him, surely. That wasn't what Jonathan did. Maybe on the outside, he had given him the cold shoulder when he was mad, but…but in here? Jonathan understood that it was important they be kept together, understood how crucial it was that they not fight or argue or be cross with each other. Sure, feelings were inevitable, but…but this wasn't normal for Jonathan. It wasn't normal for them. It wasn't normal for him.

Edward's heart sank even lower than ever when he found himself alone in the refectory a week after his brief brawl with Harvey, with only a bowl of more cement-like porridge (he was pretty sure that was what it was supposed to be, anyway…) as company; just the sight of it put him off any of the dessert the refectory staff had recently been offering (he didn't trust the look of that 'chocolate' cake, anyway). He stared down at his food miserably, allowing himself to dwell on his lonesome.

Now even Harley had left him. Oswald hadn't been in the asylum as of late; he and Harley were the only other friends Edward ever had in Arkham.

He just…wanted Jonathan back. It wasn't fair. If Jonathan was angry with him, he wished he could've at least…spoken to Edward about it, rather than ignore him. It was taking a toll on Edward's mental health, being away from Jonathan and not knowing why; he hated how weak he was being, but he supposed that was the point. The guards here loved to beat down the inmates, mentally, physically or emotionally; for all he knew, they were intentionally keeping Crane away from him. That was the one theory that he thought the most liable; he had been taken in with Crane, so of course they would separate them.

Then again, he didn't think of the Arkham staff as that clever.

"Eddie!"

Edward looked up, then twisted in his seat to look over as Harley ran into the refectory, ignoring how other inmates glared at her for making them jump with her high-pitched calling. Edward blinked his big, green eyes.

"I saw Jonny!"

For the first time, Edward's heart began to lift from the pit it had dropped itself into since he and Jonathan were separated.

"Where?!" Edward asked. He would later be embarrassed at his frantic tone, but for now he ignored it.

Harley ran around the other side of the table and took her place opposite him, grinning widely and practically vibrating in her seat. "I saw 'im bein' led back ta his cell! Couple of guys had him in 'cuffs!"

"Where's his cell?"

"Two down from yours, Eddie! Other side of Harvey!"

Edward's mouth fell open. Was…Had Jonathan been there this entire time?! Had Edward being laying awake at night, wrestling with his worry now that he had nothing suitable to distract himself with, wondering where his beloved was, whilst his beloved was just a few yards away?!

Edward began to feel angry, only to falter as he went through his memories. Every time he'd been led back to his cell, every time he'd passed Harvey's on his way to the toilets, the one on the other side of the brute had been empty. Jonathan hadn't been in his cell the entire time.

"But…I've never seen him in there?" Edward spoke his thoughts aloud.

Harley shrugged. "They musta been keepin' him elsewhere. Maybe they just moved him yesterday?"

Edward frowned. That might've been the reason; they were keeping he and Jonathan apart, but now Jonathan had been moved because…they needed the space for someone else? The cell he'd been in was no longer suitable? What was going on?

Edward tapped his fingers against the table top in a stiff rhythm, then nodded slowly. "Thank you for telling me, Harley…"

"O' course, Eddie. You gonna go see Jonny?"

Edward chewed his lip. "I don't think I'll get the chance. Not until he comes in here or to the relaxation room." Sure, Edward could've found a way to sneak to him, but he was forcing himself to be on his best behaviour. The better the behaviour, the sooner he'd be getting out of here, and he was already in the bad books for supposedly starting two altercations.

Harley frowned, but nodded all the same. "Well…if ya see him first, give him this for me."

Edward looked up, only to find her holding out a piece of straw. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Found it out in the yard. Dunno if it came from Jonny's costume or not, but it made me think of him. Might make him feel better, y'know?"

Edward failed to see how a piece of straw could make Jonathan feel better about being locked in an insane asylum, but he supposed it was the thought that counted, and so he took the piece of straw from Harley and discreetly tucked it into the sleeve of his horrid orange overalls. "Thank you, Harley. I'll make sure it gets to him safely."

Harley nodded, smiling sweetly. "I betcha can't wait ta see him," she teased, reaching over to poke his arm.

Edward, despite himself, gave her a small smile. "No, I…I don't think I can."

…

He certainly couldn't wait long enough for Jonathan to get down to the refectory or the relaxation room, and so, that night, he sat himself against the wall he and Harvey shared and listened. He could hear Harvey muttering and grumbling to himself, could hear the distant shouting and screaming from inmates on the other floors, but nothing from Crane's cell, nothing to indicate his existence.

Edward sighed, then blinked once and scrambled over to his cot, lifting the mattress up from the iron frame of his bed and snatching the bundled up pages and pen from where he'd smuggled them in from the relaxation room. He hurriedly crawled over to where he'd been sitting and straightened out a page, used his thigh to lean on as he scribbled out a message, then pressed himself against the bars of his cell and whispered, "…Harvey? Harvey?!"

"What do you want, Riddle Boy?" Harvey's gruff reply came.

Edward slipped his arm through the bars of his cell; it was the dead of night and the guard had already come through his corridor to check on them. He was quite confident about this. "Give this to Jonathan," he ordered, wiggling the pen and folded up note some to indicate them.

"Ha! Do it yerself. Since you're soooo smart."

"I can't, obviously. That's why I'm asking you."

"And what's in it for us?"

Edward scowled. He was in no mood for games or bets, not when he was finally getting a chance to contact Jonathan. "I'll owe you, okay? You can even have my dessert tomorrow, if it'll make you happy! Just - Give this to Jon, okay?" He hated putting himself in debt to someone, especially the person he had recently been fighting with, but this was important.

Harvey grunted. "We're holding this to ya, Nygma."

Edward resisted the urge to make a smart remark, as he felt Harvey reach through the bars and take his note and pen. Edward retracted his arm and pressed himself to the wall he and Harvey shared, listening out. He heard Harvey hiss, "Hey, Crane," and heard the exchange of rustling paper. Then nothing.

Edward felt a lump grow in his throat as he waited, back to the wall and knees to his chest. The note had been exchanged, which was enough evidence that Jonathan was indeed on the other side of Dent, because who would take a note not intended for them? Why would Harvey even call for Crane specifically if it wasn't him behind those bars? This was evidence; Jonathan really was a few yards away now.

"Nygma."

Edward jolted and looked over; Harvey's hand was just visible, clutching the folded up note and pen. Edward reached out and snatched it from him, scrambling to open it. His own message was scrawled at the top of the page:

Where have you been?

Jonathan's was beside it, the answer to the question:

Solitary confinement.

Edward's mouth fell open. Solitary confinement? He'd…thought about it, made a theory around it, but he hadn't thought it was one of the more plausible ones. What had Jonathan done between grabbing a uniform and separating himself from Edward that resulted in solitary confinement? And for so long?

He grabbed up the pen and wrote down his reply on the next line.

What did you do?

He hissed Harvey's name and held out the note and pen.

Harvey huffed, but took it from him and Edward listened as the larger male shuffled to the other side of his cell to hand the note to Jonathan.

Edward had to wait a minute before the slip of paper and pen were being handed back to him. Jonathan's reply was next to his again.

I didn't. Scarecrow did.

Edward felt his blood run cold.

Scarecrow had come out to play again? No, no, scratch that - Scarecrow had never left, had he? It had been Scarecrow who had partnered with him for the heist and Scarecrow who had tried to fight Batman off, Scarecrow who had gotten captured. Jonathan hadn't removed his mask until they were moving to the fitting room; Edward wouldn't have seen how his eyes had become half-lidded and shadowed over with dark intent. That must've been when he'd snuck away as well; Scarecrow didn't care for Edward, he wouldn't have told him he was leaving anyway. He'd just…snuck away and…done whatever it was that had gotten Jonathan locked away in solitary confinement.

It was just like Scarecrow to be there one second and be gone the next; he was quicker than Jonathan, more agile, a shadow in the night. It was honestly scary how quickly Scarecrow could move. Edward hadn't even heard him leave.

He had been Scarecrow the entire time…

Edward swallowed thickly, then picked up the pen and scrawled his next message.

But for a month and three quarters? What did he do?

Solitary confinement was usually a couple of days at a time. A week, if the crime was particularly horrible. Only the Joker had ever gotten that long in the box before; what had Scarecrow done?

Note was passed back to Harvey, who passed it back to Jonathan with a grumble of, "You both owe us for this, you know…"

Edward didn't dignify that with a response, but he thought he heard Jonathan speak and scrambled to press himself against the brick even further. He hadn't heard Jonathan's voice in so long…

Edward had to wait even longer this time, so long he got anxious. Finally, the note came back and Edward unfolded it. The response was longer, next to his again but carrying onto the next few lines, and it made a lump form in his throat.

I'm out early, Edward. For good behaviour. They put me on new meds. Had to be reassured they're working. Haven't heard from Scarecrow in ages. But I think Scarecrow might've killed someone or at least badly hurt them. I had blood on me when I woke up in confinement already. I don't know. They didn't believe me when I said I don't remember it. Or that I didn't even do it.

Edward swallowed down the lump, rereading the message over and over.

New meds. Did that mean Jonathan's old medication had stopped working? Had he even been taking it at all? He must've. Edward checked his pill box himself, after the…last visit Scarecrow had paid. Made sure he took his medication with his morning coffee and buttered toast. The only time Jonathan was ever allowed off of it was for heists and that was only because Scarecrow was simply better with them, being quicker than Jonathan.

Were the staff just trying something new? Was there something Edward wasn't noticing here? That wouldn't have been the first thing he had so carelessly missed.

God, he felt so stupid. Scarecrow had been right beside him and he hadn't noticed him leave and now he was hearing that he'd tried to…kill someone. Right off the bat after arriving at the asylum. Scarecrow, whilst being more rash than Jonathan, bided his time carefully and didn't usually attack so violently nor so quickly unless he was angry. Not without his scythe, they had confiscated that when they'd arrested he and Jonathan - he and Scarecrow. Without his scythe, he was careful. With it, he could be as damn crazy and violent as he pleased.

He hadn't even waited for the right moment, then. Just gone and done it, he was so mad. But why?

Why had Scarecrow been angry?

Edward scribbled on another message. He felt his hand shake as he wrote it, making the handwriting messier than normal, but at least then it matched Jonathan's. His own scrawl didn't look so good.

Are you angry with me?

He sent it back.

Harvey delivered Jonathan's reply seconds later.

Why would I be?

Edward tapped his pen against his cheek as he thought about it. He didn't know if Harvey was sneaking a peek at these notes; probably not, but it was best to be careful, even if Jonathan wasn't, laying down his recent events like that. His thoughts cut each other off several times, each time at the beginning.

For the - no. Because of - no. Just - no.

Finally, he wrote a message.

I don't know. Are you?

He sent it through to Harvey, who sent it through to Jonathan, then the note came back to Edward.

No. I'm not.

Edward swallowed thickly once more and his hand shook even more as he scribbled on a message that he didn't reread like he did the others. Just slapped the note closed and sent it back.

It returned with yet another reply next to his own.

Is Scarecrow mad at me? Yes.

Edward inhaled sharply and rubbed his face with both hands. He didn't like to think that he was afraid of Scarecrow - because that would be giving him what he wanted - but…but he knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a Scarecrow attack.

The last time he'd seen him, before the heist, was after he'd fashioned a plan for a solo heist of Jonathan's. It had been foolproof, he was certain of it, but of course the Bat had gotten involved and everything had gone wrong. Jonathan had returned to him that night, out of breath and with a long cut down his arm from apparently falling from a rooftop, and had ignored his calling in favour of disappearing into his basement study.

Edward had followed, concerned and too curious to simply lay in bed and wait for Jonathan to join him, and had found him hunched over his desk. When he'd reached out to touch Jonathan's back, to try and get him to come upstairs so Edward could see to his wounds and they could go to bed together, Jonathan had whipped around and - no, Scarecrow had whipped around and it had been Scarecrow who had grabbed him by the throat and hoisted him off his feet and pressed him to the wall, squeezing the life out of him.

Edward had fought back, kicking and trying to yank his hands away, using one of his own palms to push against Jonathan's face, but Scarecrow hadn't even blinked when Edward touched his eyes or pushed at his nose. He had wheezed out Jonathan's name, Scarecrow's name, but Scarecrow had continued to watch and spit insults at him as he choked him.

It had only been when Edward had pushed at Jonathan's mouth, had begun to lose feeling in his arm, that the shadowy look in Jonathan's eyes ceased and the wicked grin on his face dropped and so did Edward as Jonathan released him and stumbled away in shock. As Edward coughed and retained his breathing, Jonathan had muttered his name, then had run away.

Edward had found him on the roof of their home, legs dangling over the edge, and Jonathan wouldn't come inside until Edward had sat with him and comforted him, assured him he knew Jonathan had had no part in that.

It hadn't made his encounter with Scarecrow any less frightening - but then, that was what Scarecrow wanted.

Edward didn't know how to reply to that, so he just wrote what he was thinking.

Oh.

It was sent back and returned to him with more.

He won't hurt you, Edward. Promise. Not again. The meds are working. He won't be back for a while.

'A while' still meant Scarecrow was returning at some point; Edward could only hope he would be in his good graces by then.

But then…why hadn't Scarecrow attacked him personally? He could've, down there in the fitting room. Could've slammed Edward's head against a hook, impaled his eyeball or something. Why did he leave and go for a guard?

It was no secret that Scarecrow really did hate Edward's presence in Jonathan's life; with him around, it was no longer Jonathan and Scarecrow, but Jonathan and Edward, featuring Scarecrow. Edward had always been in his bad books and then he went and pissed him off with a badly performed heist; why hadn't he gone for him?

Could it be that…he was doing Jonathan a favour? Scarecrow cared for Jonathan, didn't he? Like old friends. So…could it be that he had spared Edward for Jonathan's benefit? Perhaps…He hadn't known Scarecrow to be so merciful, though.

This would take some thinking.

He went to write, but paused when he heard Harvey yawn and say, "Alright, that does it. No more mailmen duty for you two; we're beat."

"Now, hang on," Edward said, turning to the wall to address Harvey better.

"Shoulda written faster, Nygma. We're headin' to sleep. Goodnight."

"Now, Harvey," Edward heard Jonathan say and he couldn't help the smile that lifted his lips at hearing his voice.

"Shut up, Crane. We're fuckin' sleeping."

That was the end of that, then.

Edward huffed and wrapped the pen up in the paper, then crawled over to his bed to hide the contraband under his mattress again. He went to climb into bed, paused, then walked over to the corner of his cell to whisper a goodnight to Jonathan.

He liked to think he heard it, let that entertain him, and so walked to his bed to sleep. And, for once, he did sleep, for now he knew where Jonathan was and had heard from him - that was all he'd been needing. Better yet, he would see him tomorrow.

Harley was right; Edward could hardly wait.

…

They were finally reunited when Edward got to the relaxation room. He faulted himself for not catching Jonathan whilst he ate. Knowing where Jonathan was and that he was okay meant Edward could catch up on sleep and, apparently, the guard in their corridor hadn't been bothered to wake him up. Even if Jonathan had wanted to whilst he passed, they wouldn't have allowed him near Nygma.

But that didn't matter now, for now he stood in the relaxation room's doorway, and there he was.

Jonathan was sitting in the spot on the sofa that had once been empty, then occupied by Harley, then left empty again over the month and three quarters that he had been gone. His left arm rested on the sofa's, his right arm upon his own thigh, and he was staring straight ahead, glasses halfway down his nose. His rust-coloured hair was mussed up but wet from a recent shower and he must've changed his overalls, for Edward couldn't see any of the blood mentioned in his note. He had a black eye and a busted lip and no doubt bruises littered in other places; the guards in this asylum weren't too gentle with the inmates that caused trouble, and Scarecrow had caused plenty of trouble.

Edward smiled widely as he saw him, despite the wounds; he was still his Jonathan, covered in scars, with a sour look on his face. Feeling his heart swell with long-awaited affection, he straightened his own glasses and pressed down his slicked back hair even though he hadn't needed to. He wanted to run to Jonathan, crawl into his lap, throw his arms around him and kiss him with everything he had, so that, yes, Jonathan would understand how much he'd been missed. Because Edward had missed him, he could admit. He'd been curious and worried and scared without Jonathan around in this hellhole they called an asylum. And now Jonathan was back, so was it not reasonable that Edward wanted to be in his embrace again?

Still, he resisted, for not only would that look bad for him, but it would mean both would be subjected to rather prejudiced treatment by the other inmates.

And so Edward inhaled sharply, straightened himself up, then walked over calmly to the battered green sofa and delicately sat on the third cushion, leaving a spot between he and Jonathan.

There was silence between them, then Edward spoke, "Hello."

"Hello," Jonathan replied. He sounded tired; Edward couldn't say he blamed him.

"How're you?"

Jonathan shrugged a shoulder. "I've been better, for sure. Confinement ain't a place I enjoy. You?"

Edward stiffened. He wouldn't tell Jonathan all that he'd been through since they were separated, about laying awake at night worrying or sharing his feelings with Harley. So he simply replied, "Fine."

Jonathan looked to him out of the corner of his eye, critical, analysing. "Ya don't seem fine."

"I am, don't worry. Just…Your disappearance was sudden." And Edward would leave it at that.

Jonathan nodded. "I know. 'm sorry 'bout that."

"It's not your fault." Edward leaned forward slightly and nodded to Jonathan's face. "A guard did that to you, then?"

"Mm-hm. Did it to Scarecrow, I guess, but ya know how it goes. I get the leftovers."

Edward nodded. "Do you know which guard?"

"Told ya, Ed. I don't remember anythin' that happened."

Edward nodded once more. That was a shame; he wouldn't mind getting revenge on the guard for him. Fuck good behaviour - Jonathan had spent all this time in solitary confinement, and now he would have to live out the rest of his incarceration. Edward had been acting as nicely as he could since the brief brawl with Harvey and he hadn't offended any of the guards recently (unless his sleeping habits had annoyed this morning's guard that much), meaning he was on course for rewards for his good behaviour, and one of those could be his early release.

Now that he knew where Jonathan was, he intended to remain in here for however long the Southerner did and, if that involved punching a guard in the face to extend his sentence, so be it.

Just don't tell Jonathan that; he'd laugh.

"What about you?" Jonathan spoke up. As Edward turned to look at him, he gestured vaguely to Edward's face and Edward only then remembered the busted lip he'd gotten from one Harvey Dent. "Who did that to ya?"

"Harvey."

"Really?"

"Yup. Told him to fuck off."

"An' why did ya do that? I mean, I agree with it, I jus' wanna know the full story."

"He was sticking his noses in my business. I didn't appreciate it."

Jonathan chuckled lowly, half smile upon his lips, and he shook his head. "'m surprised he helped us, then. Last night, I mean. If ya pissed 'im off that bad."

"So am I. Although, I don't suppose he would've passed up the chance to hold us in debt. We owe him now, for our little chat."

"We do," Jonathan replied with a curt nod. There was a pause between them, then Jonathan added, "Was worth it, though."

Edward faltered, feeling his cheeks warm up, and he looked away bashfully and nodded. "It was." He faltered as he recalled something, then tucked a finger into his sleeve. "Oh, uh, here." He picked out the piece of straw and held it out to Jonathan. "From Harley."

Jonathan finally turned his head to look. He blinked once, then carefully took the piece, hissing lightly in pain as he did so. He turned it over on his palm, frowning confusedly.

"She said she didn't know if it was from your costume or not, but it reminded her of you."

Jonathan smiled and chuckled softly, shaking his head. "She's a peach." He tucked the piece of straw behind his ear, like one would a pen, and asked, "She's in here, then?"

"Mm-hm. Joker isn't, but Harley is."

Jonathan's smile faded and he shook his head, grumbling something as his fingers curled into fists. This was exactly one of the reasons Edward likened their relationship to siblings; trust Jonathan to show protectiveness over someone he had grown to like. He showed the exact same gesture for Edward; no doubt, Harvey would be getting dosed up on fear toxin as soon as Jonathan could get his hands on any.

"Tell me about it," Edward said with a shake of his own head. He leaned forward to look at Jonathan's face again, gaze going to the black eye and busted lip. "How're you really, though? I caught that grimace of yours; you're hurting."

"Straightjacket fucked up my shoulders some. 'm jus' sore, Ed, it's fine. 's why my handwriting was a bit messy last night."

Edward nodded, then chortled lightly. "Your handwriting is always messy, Jon. You're a doctor. It's part of the title."

"Not that kind of doctor."

"Still a doctor, Jon. Still messy as hell with your writing. And eating. And lifestyle. And basically everything."

"Aw, c'mon, now," Jonathan muttered. "Don't hafta do this now, do we?"

"Are you going to clean up your act anytime soon?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then I suppose we're doing this now, Jonathan. I think you deserve it, after ditching me for so long."

"I said sorry."

"I heard you."

There was a moment of silence, then both snorted in unison and giggled childishly into their hands. It wasn't even that funny, but such joy at being together again and speaking of their domestic life so made the laughter bubble up not just from humour, but from relief.

This felt so good.

Edward looked to Jonathan with a warm smile and wanted more than anything to crawl into Jonathan's lap, sit himself on his thigh and hug him tightly, but that wouldn't fly in this environment, and so he straightened up and placed his left hand down on the cushion between them, palm up, fingers straight. Jonathan didn't move in the silence, and Edward swallowed thickly and muttered, staring down at his lap, "…I missed you, Jon…"

Jonathan lifted his arm from his thigh and set his right hand down upon Edward's left, palm down and fingers slightly bent. Carefully, they moved to wrap around Edward's hand. They were cold, but were absorbing Edward's heat well, particularly as Edward wrapped his fingers around Jonathan's hand in return. "I missed you too, Ed."

Edward ducked his head, embarrassed at his own blushing, and smiled sweetly.

Asylum or not, all was now right with the world.