Overly-long note at the end of the chapter - and some recommendations for much better stories. You've earned it.
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"Look again, Edward," Jonathan said as he slid the envelope back across the table, preparing himself for the kill. "How many people on that graph would truly, honestly mourn your death?" He waited patiently, his expression trained and deadly serious. Edward did not immediately reply. Cold realization drained the color from his complexion as certain ideas were finally beginning to settle in his mind.
His ego did not like that. Not one bit.
He pondered on the situation for a long moment; Scarecrow stared on. Edward was, in all reality (a reality that Crane would never admit under torture, of course), a genius. He was a narcissist, but he could solve the puzzle Jonathan had given him.
Finally, Edward heard his own voice hesitantly declare, "I get along with people." ...Oh, Lord, that was weak. He winced, knowing it sounded ridiculous, pathetic, even to his own ears.
Jonathan leaned forward, half out of his chair, with his thin hands pressed against the table. "You see it, then. This is the life we have chosen, Nygma. There. Is. No. Gratitude. Here. Not for killing the clown, not for brilliance, not for help, not for anything. Especially not from our 'colleagues,'" he ground out, practically spitting the ridiculous word. As though they had equals, colleagues. He shook his head slightly and gathered himself together.
It was now the endgame.
"No, Edward. We don't deal in gratitude, not one of us. There are occasional favors. There are trades, negotiations, and bargains. There is tit for tat and only that, or you'll be run over roughshod. If you kill the Joker, and that If is the most enormous If ever said, then you'll be no more useful to anyone for it. He will be dead. It takes him out of the picture. What's left is Harley, and then you.
"Look at the graph, Edward! How many? How many people would help you? In the face of a sick, grief-stricken young woman, beautiful and betrayed, batting her eyes between tears, how many would choose you? How many do you think would kill you simply because it would be something to do? Not only them, either. You'll not only have the entire underworld after you, but the rooftops aren't exactly safe for you to cower on, you know, with Selina, the Bat, Birdboy... Damn it, Edward, you can't be this obtuse! Not a single one of us isn't utterly disposable!"
Jonathan slammed a fist against the table as he left his chair. He finally took his eyes off Edward's stricken face as piles of documents tipped onto the floor. His legs lead him in a pace that was ironically similar to Edward's earlier steps, just as his voice had been equally manic as the green-suited villain's had been at the start of the confrontation.
Edward ignored the movements of the gangly man, his eyes fixed on a random bit of torn wallpaper. Pathetic. He was pathetic. He lived in a world where old acquaintances would be after his head for killing the most annoying man alive (other than the Bat, if that even needed to be said). Jonathan was right. If it was someone else, if Dent or Ivy or... anyone but Jonathan or Jervis, really... maybe not Selina, but... if Harley asked him for help to hurt them, with a good reason, he'd agree. He'd do as little as possible while keeping face, but he'd agree. Harley could be a fairly decent informant when she paid attention, after all. If he killed the Joker, they'd kill him. It was sport. His thoughts began to blur.
They didn't care. No one. Not special, not the them.. he wasn't... wasn't... not… but... but, he...
Jonathan looked across the room, at one of his very few friends, and paused. How could Nygma have honestly looked for acceptance and warm regard in the villains of this thrice damned city? The truth of the matter was, however, Jonathan knew. He knew exactly what Edward had been denied throughout his life.
Neither of them had ever stood a chance, had they?
Crane forced himself to breathe slowly, calming his mind. He had just verbally eviscerated the man still frozen at his table. It was for his own good. Well, mostly for his own good... alright, partially for his own good. But, Edward most assuredly did not look well, for all the good that had been done. He appeared about to faint. The Scarecrow was nearly sorry him.
He wasn't, obviously, but he almost was.
He didn't regret it, either. He had learned long ago that guilt was the most pointless of all emotionS, and one of the easiest to manipulate without chemicals. He was not the one being manipulated, not anymore. He felt a slight, queasy lurch somewhere near his stomach, however, when Edward leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. Crane brushed off the sensation. Well, if he had finally got his point across, he would have to move on to... comforting. At least some twisted version of comforting. It wasn't his strong point.
It seemed like the the proper routine, after telling a man the world would be indifferent to his death. Jonathan had always known that for himself; he'd been reminded of it continually since he was a toddler. Edward... He lived and breathed to prove his own worth. Striding to the kitchen, Scarecrow opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of cheap whiskey and two chipped cups. Home-warming gifts from his subject, he decided with a smirk.
He sighed (for what must have been the hundredth time that evening, he thought) as he came out of the kitchen; Edward had started shaking. It would be a long night.
Truly, though, he had been given no choice. He didn't actually have any idea about what Harley would do if the Joker were to be killed, or what the rest of Gotham would do in reaction to her - he only attempted to keep both Edward and the girl safe. At least, as safe as he could without ham-handedly interfering with Joker (his affection did not translate into a death wish), or letting a soul know about his lingering desire to protect Harley. Gotham was rather short on even shaky allies. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do for the child, he supposed. He had resigned himself to her choice, her madness, a very long time ago. His life was not meant for involvement in frivolous games; he had a true purpose. He would not deny Harleen what she believed to be her own purpose. He hadn't really lied, however, either.
His past had taught him quite well, and he sometimes secretly wondered if her bruises and delusions weren't preferable to his own state. If she believed she loved, he could do nothing to change her mind. Heaven (not that Jonathan believed in such a place) knew he had tried. Love was naturally a delusion, but her obsession went beyond the natural. Those days had passed, and she was what she was... and he was becoming a maudlin old man. He certainly did not want her showing up on his door step, sobbing out, "Professahhhh!" and imagining he would be capable of helping her. He took a deep breath and forced himself back to the present. But wait... What was...? He smelled a very faint chemical odor; faint, yes, but also very familiar.
Then he saw it. On the floor, next to the Riddler's chair, was a cracked glass vial.
Edward's sudden breakdown had seemed a bit strange, but Jonathan had assumed it was simply the egomaniac's mind catching up to willfully ignored (and some skillfully fabricated, he congratulated himself) facts. He now remembered with clarity his hand coming down on the table forcefully before he began to pace, some distance away from the overturned mess. The vial must have cracked at some point as it rolled off the uneven surface.
How ridiculously clumsy. If this toxin were as strong as he suspected, the fumes alone could indeed have brought Edward to his current state. He quickly set the whiskey and cups down on a stack of books, and turned to the bedroom to get the antidote.
He stopped. Looking over at Nygma, and observing that the man's shaking had turned to sobs and muttering, his... well, his scientific mind, of course... couldn't pass this up. After all, it wasn't as though he had intentionally dosed the Riddler.
He smirked to himself. He had been trying to help, hadn't he? Oh, the irony. Leaning back down, he picked up the bottle of whiskey and only one cup, and poured himself a heavy measure. Holding his breath for a moment - a simple automatic precaution, he didn't grab his mask; he had lost any notable reaction to concentrated doses of his creation years ago - he ventured over to the makeshift desk to gather his notebook and pen.
He deftly reached down and picked up the leaking vial, shielding his skin with a slip of paper as he handled the object, and set it back on the desk in front of Nygma. The younger man did not even register Jonathan's existence. Settling himself in a chair across the room, he faced his friend, and began to take notes. If the current batch were too potent to inject directly, perhaps it had potential as another airborne weapon that was slightly different than the compressed fear-gas he currently favored...
"Please, no, no I didn't, I didn't lie. I didn't lie!" Edward had begun to hallucinate. Interesting. The subject matter was well known to Crane, but he hoped in a little while the exposure would bring about a new topic. At least he knew the reaction was genuine, as this was the standard from Edward's previous accidental exposure to a weaker form of Crane's toxin in Arkham.
He had, after all, been needing a healthier subject, hadn't he? Perhaps this was a gift in return for saving Edward's sorry hide. Jonathan absolutely did not believe in a higher power, much less one that sent him gifts, but that didn't factor at the moment. He took a drink and sighed again, this time contentedly.
"Yes, you did! You cheated and you lied!" he responded with an anger in his voice he didn't really feel. With sadistic glee, he moved his pen across the page as he observed his friend's renewed sobs and denials.
Much more cheerful now, he thought once again, it was going to be a long night. As he smiled and scribbled a note about changes in his subject's speech and syntax in situations of terror, he decided he'd do Edward a favor and call one of his own associates to bring Edward home after he passed out - passed out naturally, as he had before, or by chemical means, which Crane could easily manage.
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Something smelled terrible.
That was the first thought Edward could coherently put together.
Whatever he was lying on was... Smooshy. And something smelled terrible. What had happened? There was a strange lingering feeling of panic in the back of his mind... He forced his eyes open. A small crack in the ceiling let in dim light. No, not a ceiling, too close. He was in a dumpster.
Oh lord, he was in a dumpster! Edward scrambled out of the trash like it was an Olympic event. He reeked. He needed a shower. He ... Remembered.
His father had- wait. No. No, no, no. That hadn't really happened. That couldn't really happen; not now, not ever again.
Jonathan had poisoned him.
Edward didn't know how, but his friend had poisoned him.
They had been talking. Harley. There was a chart. He had felt... Useless? Disrespected? It made no sense. No. This... This couldn't go unresolved. His friend had poisoned him.
Well, if targeting the Joker was too dangerous, he certainly wouldn't let good materials go to waste. Teaching the Scarecrow a lesson would be child's play.
The Riddler began the (surprisingly short), careful, disgusting walk back to his hideout.
Jonathan Crane was going to pay.
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AN; What are friends for, after all? It's a bit sketchy among the Rogue Gallery. I don't really have a problem writing Crane thinking about someone as a friend, then doing something like this under the idea that they should have known better than to come to him in the first place. That's the last bit I have for this story, but don't imagine Eddie takes this lightly or complacently when he comes to! I have ideas kicking around, but it's hard to make them come together and give Eddie the last laugh in a way that hasn't been done.
Right. Because it's 'been done' obviously means it can't be done better... Though, not by you, that's for certain.
Er... those thoughts make themselves known without my permission, sorry. There's always the option of Batman interfering, but I don't want Jonny in traction... not really.
Charmed...
To those concerned with Echo and Query; I did not forget them, and generally enjoyed them. They're not around very much these days, unfortunately, (not around as in, 'unused in DC since the 90's,' I think) and I just can't see Crane referencing them well over a decade after they were defunct. Eddie wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote the end, constantly going on about pride and revenge and superior blah blah noise, so for pestering me, I had the goon put him in a dumpster. It's the guy's thing, what can I say? Unseen characters have oddities, too.
Anyway, thank you for reading, I'm grateful for every single review! Although, to be honest, I ignore the negative ones if they're not helpful, so that's just wasted time.
Now for recs!
Thanks for staying with me, and for that, you deserve these tips;
If you like Jonathan and Eddie, actual plot and action, and want to read a better stories than this one by better authors than me (by far), check out; SpyVsTailor, specifically, 'Summer of the Scarecrow' relates a tiny bit to this story, but you'll like it more if you begin with the first story, 'Twelve Days of Riddler' and second, 'Week of the Cat' before you start it. Or in other words, "Begin at the beginning, and go on until you come to the end." I must leave out the stopping bit, that's not how fan-fiction works at all. It's a great series, there are a lot more characters involved and their Edward is much more successful than mine in his endeavor! A good Edward/Selina and Harley/Jonathan plot, tasteful, with a big dash of Fries and Nora, and others. And Echo and Query are there, but I sometimes think they're ready to jump ship, as the saying goes! Very cute, all of it. It makes the strange so easily believable, real talent there. (Yes, I ship Eddie/Selina, they're so funny together.) AZ-Woodbomb's 'Sphinx' series is a fantastic look at this pairing and the individual characters, as well.
Wandering Namekian's 'Lessons' is the funniest, non-shippy friendship/action Riddler and Scarecrow story out there, in my opinion, and you need to just drop this garbage I wrote and head over and read that, because I literally 'lol', cackle, every time I read it.
Oh, I don't even think I need to mention the CATverse, it's so brilliant - I believe Twinings and BiteMeTechie are primary there, with Checkerboards doing a great supplement, 'Three Rogues and a Baby'. Checkerboards also wrote a crossover with Eddie in the game Portal at Aperture that I loved, and 'Medical Help' is really funny and well written. 'Get Out of My House' is the start of one of my favorite Eddie stories, which you'll find there.
Both 'Nerd' and 'Revenge of the Nerds' by Night Monkey are amazingly funny for the gritty subject matter.
If you like the Nolan-verse Crane, 'Mors et Timor' by Minion and Megamind is mind-blowing (very, very dark, but addictive), and 'For Your Entertainment' by Starcrier actually has a strong young female OC that, magically, in no way seems to be a Mary-Sue, and an interesting plot as well.
Okay, I have to stop or it may as well just say, 'Read the authors on my Favorites list, they're fantastic!" You'll be glad I did, though! Feel free to leave suggestions for them in the comments; there's a small chance I haven't read every decent story with the boys in it at this point, but it's still a chance!
...Sorry for the long AN, they drive me nuts sometimes, but... just check out the fics. I have no defense.