Part the Third

He looked around, scratching at his browline as he did so; it was itchy in a vague sort of way. "I'll be right back, all right you two? I need to shave. This beard is starting to make my entire face itch."

I'm coming! Ada said, and she jumped up enthusiastically.

"Sweetheart, I can -"

But she was already hanging off his leg, cane still clutched in her hand, and not only that but apparently Alan wanted to tag along as well. Edward wondered if organic children were just as likely to follow their parents everywhere possible and said aloud, "Ada, let your brother have the cane for a while, then."

I like to carry it, Ada said, pressing it into herself. Edward rolled his eyes.

"Yes, and so does he. Give him the cane, please."

I don't want to.

"You are being very difficult today." He held out his hand for it and she reluctantly gave it to him. He passed it to Alan, who accepted it eagerly.

Thank you, Alan said, and Ada made a noise of upset but Edward only peeled her off his leg and gave her his hand.

"You can't always have your way. Let's go."

I like to though, Ada protested, as Alan seemingly decided he was leading them there and struck out ahead.

"That doesn't make a difference. Sometimes someone else gets their way instead."

When's it my turn to?

"You just had your turn." God, this was so stupid, but it had its merits as a distraction.

Can I have another one?

"Not now. Later."

When is later?

"Sometime."

Now?

"No, not now."

Ada, stop it, Alan told her, looking behind him without pause. It's my turn.

But I want another one!

You can have it when my turn is over.

But when?

"Ada!" Edward snapped. "Enough!"

She went quiet, and as always he regretted losing his temper, but when she refused to listen he didn't have much of a choice!

"If you listen, I don't have to snap at you," he said in a calmer voice. "I don't want to be angry with you. I always listen to you, don't I?"

She made a small noise of acknowledgement but that was all.

"Then you should listen to me. It's the respectful thing to do."

I just like to have it, she said quietly.

"I know. I like to have it too. We all like to have it. So we all have to take turns so we can each have it." Never in his life had he imagined having this conversation. He had once contemplated similar things, but that had been many years ago, before he had gotten into this business. He had dreamed of finding some beautiful woman, and they would have a beautiful little girl that he would spoil and love and accept no matter what, and he would prove if only to himself that he was not his father's son. He should have done that, should have taken his being caught in the Bat's computer to get out of criminality altogether and do something nicer with his life, but he hadn't. He had joyfully thrown himself deeper into the mess and now he barely had anything left with which to pull himself out.

Could he have lived that life? Would having a family been enough to satisfy him, to fulfill him, to... to fix him? Would the fever in his brain have faded, or would it have worsened in the face of such easy normality?

Would he have been okay?

Dad?

For a second he thought the daydream was reality, and reality some daydream itself. That he did have a son, and his voice sounded a little automated which was weird and yet not unheard of. For one crazy second he thought that perhaps he had gotten out after all and realised that chasing down a mysterious Bat for the rest of his life was really very stupid, and he hadn't done it after all, but then he blinked and that thought melted into the gritty dimness of the fairgrounds he'd halted in his walk towards. Alan was standing five feet away and gripping the cane nervously as Ada pulled on his arm, looking up at him. The breath he took was unsteady. "What is it?" His tone was level at least.

What's wrong? Alan asked.

"Nothing," Edward said, and of course it was not the truth but it wasn't as though he could say it! "Everything's fine. Let's keep going."

As soon as he stepped into the bathroom he remembered the mirror and turned around before they had quite made it in, saying, "Why don't you two do something outside. I can do this without supervision."

Ada happily obliged but Alan did not. Edward pressed his teeth together and dug his fingers into the perforation on the back of the razor's package. It was a ladies' moisturising razor, which he was honestly glad of; he could shave without cream just fine, of course, but it simply felt horrible. He crouched down under the bank of sinks, turning off the water for the one beneath the mirror he'd ruined and opening a new one. He knew that two of them worked, and now was time to make use of the other.

"Sticking around then, Alan?" he asked, pulling the razor out of the package. Alan nodded and pulled himself onto the countertop. He was far from needing help doing that, but Edward put a hand on his arm anyway.

You use that to fix your face, right?

Edward frowned at him. "Fix it?"

Alan shrugged. You don't look like you when you don't have one of those to use.

Edward looked at his reflection for a moment before dropping his eyes to the faucet. He couldn't say he really recognised himself just now either.

But Alan wasn't talking about that. He was referring to his facial recognition software, which increasingly failed to identify Edward as he had never programmed it to deal with things like facial hair. It hadn't been a priority at the time. In fact, he was uncertain that his robots would recognise him at all if he were back to peak efficiency. He knew that sleeplessness and stress had ground new lines into not only his face but his hands as well, that he had lost a lot of weight in the past year, that he wasn't even combing his hair the same way or wearing the same glasses he used to. Now that the game was over he fully intended to pick up his life and try to reassemble it into something more reflective of what he should have done with it in the first place, but he barely even knew what that was supposed to be. It was almost... heartbreaking, that his children should only know and recognise him at his very worst, when he should always have been at his best for them.

Out of the corner of his eye the numbers he'd written on the other mirror seemed to glow faintly, and he forced himself to move onto the other half of his face before he was quite ready so that he couldn't look any further. As he continued, so did Alan's odd silence. He was going to have to do something about that.

Edward had the feeling he was supposed to say something in these situations. Something... paternal. He frowned a little.

Ahhhhh. He might have it. "Son?"

Yes?

"Is everything all right?"

Alan seemed to consider his answer a rather long time. Yes.

Now what? He was positive that wasn't the truth, but Alan always told the truth. Perhaps Edward was just reading him wrong. It irked him, but he hadn't seen Alan in a while. Perhaps he was still affected by the medication as well. He'd have to let it go.

Dad, Alan said quietly, and when Edward glanced at him he saw he was twisting one of his thumbs which always meant bad news.

"Mmhm?"

Maybe… maybe not everything is.

"What is it," Edward said, putting down the razor. It seemed it was going to have to wait.

I lied to you.

Edward was shocked in that moment. Alan had lied? Alan? He'd never met anyone more trustworthy in his entire life. His mouth was inexorably dry. If Alan had found a reason to lie to him the truth must be very, very bad.

"All right." He resolved to keep calm. Alan was staring down at his entwined hands; he obviously felt terrible about lying, and he didn't need Edward to make it worse. He was a little angry about it, but Alan had to have a good reason.

Nikola didn't wander off, Dad. Nikola's broken.

Edward leaned back against the sink. He was, honestly, not all that shook up over it. Nikola was only one step up from the combat bots. There wasn't much to him, and Edward had never really spent any time with him.

I tried so hard to fix him, Alan was saying. But he's just too broken. He's all melted and I replaced everything I could but he won't turn on. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Edward asked, in what he hoped was an open sort of way. He didn't want Alan to feel worse, but he had to know why Alan had lied to him. He was afraid he already knew what the answer was, and that it was one he didn't want to hear. But he had to know anyway. He found himself wringing his own hands together and forced himself to stop. He had to fold his arms to do so, which was not very welcoming, but better than the alternative.

Because I failed you, Alan answered, very quietly. You asked me to keep them safe and I didn't. I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. I wanted you to be proud like you were when you left. So I lied and now you're probably even more disappointed. It's okay if you're not proud of me anymore. I don't deserve it. I'm sorry for lying.

Somehow, what Alan had said was even worse than what Edward had been afraid he'd say. That being that he had lied because he was afraid Edward was going to yell, or to hit him. But no. Of course not. Because Alan was not him, and yet he kept thinking of him that way regardless.

"I'm not upset with you," Edward told him. "Alan, that wasn't your fault."

It was! Alan protested, and now he looked up. I should have told Nikola to get out himself, but he had to help Ada and then he got stuck and –

"That was my fault," Edward heard himself saying. And it tightened his throat, because he hated saying that, but it had been. He sat down on the floor and held a hand up to indicate Alan should join him. He did so, but maintained his distance. Edward shook his head. "Come here, son."

It hurt a great deal when Alan climbed into his lap, and even more when Alan pressed himself into Edward's already severely bruised body, but… it was nothing compared to this other pain, one that made his chest ache and caused him to hold his son perhaps tighter than was wise. He knew what it was – empathy, which he felt only rarely – and he hated it. The only other person he'd ever felt it for was Jonathan, and if he were quite frank with himself Jonathan did indeed deserve much of the suffering that was inflicted upon him. But Alan did not. Alan did not deserve to suffer, because he was only a boy who tried to make his father proud. He didn't deserve to feel so guilty for something that had not been his fault. "It wasn't because of you," Edward told him in a low voice. "It was me. You did nothing wrong."

It wasn't your fault. You weren't even there!

"No," Edward said heavily, "but it was… revenge for something else I did. She was punishing me. I made a mistake and you got caught up in it. I… I'm sorry, Alan."

Nikola thought you weren't coming back, Alan said, in his approximation of a whisper. He kept saying you weren't. I was starting to believe him.

He had the sudden, terrible urge to tell Alan everything, just so the poor boy could finally know what the hell was going on, but Alan wouldn't understand any of it. He had no context clues to tell him what the significance of anything Edward would say was. "I was in prison," he said anyway. "The business I was taking care of was illegal. I got caught. I'm supposed to be in prison still, but I escaped."

How long were you supposed to be there for?

"The rest of my life, probably."

He winced as Alan hugged him more tightly. He wasn't going to say anything if he could help it, but God that hurt.

You don't belong there. You belong here. I missed you so much.

"Thank you for the package," Edward remembered to say. "It was helpful."

We just wanted you to know we didn't forget about you.

"I would never think that."

Alan sat back, and Edward couldn't say he was displeased. He stood up with a little help from the wall and said,

"I'm going to finish shaving and then you need to take me to wherever you've left Nikola."

Alan nodded and climbed back up on the sink again. Edward put his attention to shaving so that he could at least pretend he was somewhat clean, and when he'd finished he put down the razor.

He took one moment to comb out his hair with moistened fingers, then moved over to the floorboard to hide the razor beneath it. He put a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Show me where Nikola is."

Alan nodded and walked out of the room, Edward behind him.

Alan had been keeping Nikola inside the toystore itself, in a dark corner on the second floor, and it was too dark for Edward to really see anything without his custom glasses but what he could see did not look good. What was left of Nikola was a melted, mangled mess, and from what Edward could tell his battery had just melted in the heat from the explosion. He took a long breath and let it out through his nose, rubbing his eyes. He needed a cigarette.

It's bad, Alan said. Edward nodded.

"I'm afraid Nikola's had his run," Edward said. "We can bury him, if you like."

Bury him?

Edward rubbed his arms. He kept forgetting to change his clothes, and it was drafty in here. "It's… what you do with people who have died. It's a way of saying goodbye."

I'd like that, Alan said, and it took them about an hour but they brought all the pieces of Nikola out behind the store and Alan dug the hole. He would not allow Edward to do it, nor would he tell Edward where he had gotten the shovel from, so Edward just leaned against the wall and waited for him to finish. When they had him moved into the hole Alan stood there looking down at Nikola, and said finally, I'm sorry, Nikola.

Edward, to his shame, had nothing to say.

Should we have had Ada come out here with us? Alan asked as they went around to the front of the establishment, and truth be told Edward had spent about an hour asking himself that question. But now he only shook his head.

"Ada wouldn't understand and I…" He grimaced. "I don't have time to explain it to her. I know that sounds reprehensible but – "

I understand, Alan said. What's next?

He opened the door for Alan to enter the store ahead of him. "I need to rescue Jonathan from the GCPD."

Alan stopped in the middle of the room. Jonathan.

"I know you don't like him, Alan, but – "

I just think maybe he should be rescuing you by now.

Edward sat back down and looked at the suitcases. They were his. Alan must have moved them out of the Orphanage in anticipation of his return.

"Nothing I did was anything I haven't already done myself. He just enabled me and gave me a deadline." He pulled one of the cases in front of him and unzipped it. He did not really want to put clean clothes on his dirty body, but it would make him feel a little better. Perhaps he'd just change his underclothes. He pulled off the thin cotton tshirt given to him by the GCPD.

Alan came over to sit beside him after he'd redressed, and Edward put an arm around his shoulders. He'd been thinking of eating as well, but that could wait a little longer. So we're going to rescue him.

Edward nodded. "He's not likely to be in good shape. He was barely holding together before, and now he's recently been… he got a dose of his own fear toxin, and from what I know he did not take it well. What he did was even worse than what I was doing. I don't believe he got anyone to sympathise with him and make his time of it easier. He could die there. I'm not going to allow that. I've spent too long keeping him in one piece." His phone interrupted suddenly, and he had to smile when he read the message.

Eddie, darling.

Yes Selina, my dear?

How far along are you with my papers? I'd like to get going.

He hadn't even made the appropriate calls yet. Patience, my kitten. These things take time.

Just wanted to make sure I didn't slip your mind.

He smiled and shook his head. Never.

Who are you talking to? Alan asked.

"Selina," he answered absently, more focused on his thumbs.

The person who destroyed the factory?

Edward didn't think Alan had ever sounded incredulous before.

"Yes."

You're in love with her too.

"I am not," Edward said, laughing. "She is only a friend."

I see. He did not sound convinced in the slightest. Why are you smiling like that then?

"Like what?"

Like you do when Jonathan's here.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Alan folded his hands together. You're really good at picking friends who are bad for you.

Edward put the phone down, not a little out of exasperation. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Alan just stood up and began walking away, and Edward called, "Where are you going?"

He shrugged but didn't really stop. I'm tired of fighting with you, Dad.

So Alan hadn't wanted him to come back after all.

Why should he have? He's right. He has to fight you on every damned thing.

His phone lit up, and he glanced down at it to find Selina asking where he'd gone. I have to talk to my son, he sent, then left the phone there on the floor and went out to find Alan. He hadn't gone far. Edward sat down against the wall, about a foot from him, and rubbed his face with one hand. He was tired all of a sudden.

Dad –

"I'm trying, Alan," Edward snapped, not at all in the mood for another lecture. "I cannot spontaneously become a brand-new person just because you want me to. I can only do so much at once. And Canada is not a place where I'm magically doing to change just because it isn't here. I'm going to be the same person, only in a different place."

You're just saying that so you don't have to try when you get there.

"I am saying that because you seem to believe a change in locale is going to transform me instantaneously!"

Not as long as you keep falling in love with people who hurt you and destroy everything you've ever built. Selina killed Nikola. And you don't even seem to care, not even a little bit.

"She did not kill him," Edward said heavily. "She didn't even know he was there. I tried to tell her, but the three of you were something she would have needed to see to understand, even if she weren't angry with me."

You still want her to come with us, don't you. Except she doesn't want to come with Jonathan. Because even she knows you should be staying away from him.

"Perhaps you should just stay here. It's becoming clear you're not going to be happy there." And he stood back up, because he didn't know how much more of this conversation he could take.

Stay here? And do what? My entire life is dependent on you. You know that. You made me this way. My existence is meaningless without you. You keep telling me to 'stay here' as though that's an option I can actually take. Even you can't be that delusional.

So this was what he really sounded like.

But he was right, so Edward wasn't going to argue. He was just going to bite his tongue a little too hard and wish there were cigarettes in one of those suitcases and go back into the store and do something so he could pretend this hadn't happened for a while. He twisted the door handle.

Dad, wait. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean it.

Edward waved one hand listlessly. "I don't know what to do with you, Alan. And to be quite honest, I never did. It would probably be best if you figured it out yourself instead of giving me infinite chances to make a further mess of it."

But you still love me, don't you?

He sounded so desperate that Edward paused on the threshold. He knew none of this was right, none of this was fair, but what could he possibly do? Alan was too smart. He knew too much. Edward could not satisfy him. He never had and he never would. He had failed his son, as his father had failed his, and that was the end of it. He'd always known this would happen, and it had. He should never have tried in the first place.

"For what it's worth," he answered.