CASE FILE #0077: Things Unsaid

July 25th, 2007

I never intended for this to be anything other than a working relationship, but somehow, she's worked her way past my defenses and become one of my dearest friends. My dearest, perhaps. But that's all she can be. No matter how much I might-no. She's my partner. That's all she can be. That's all we can be. The list of reasons why we can't go any further could stretch out of Gotham City all the way to Metropolis, but it all comes down to one basic fact: I am-was the Riddler. There's only one way relationships end for the Riddler. She deserves better than that. She deserves better than me...

June 5th, 2007

"Mr. Wayne? Mr. Bryant? Mayor Sharp will see you now."

Bruce and Bryant got up from their seats at the same time, Bruce pausing for a moment to straighten his red silk tie before following Bryant and Sharp's assistant down the hall. The assistant kept a brisk pace as he led them towards the solid oak doors of Sharp's office, allowing for Bruce and Bryant to hang back a few feet. "How do you want to do this?" Bryant asked Bruce, his voice low so the assistant couldn't hear. "Good cop, bad cop?"

Bruce let out a thin smile. "You start us out. If Sharp gets difficult, I'll step in."

Bryant nodded, then looked back towards the door. The assistant had reached them now and was knocking. "Mayor Sharp? Mr. Wayne and Mr. Bryant are here."

Sharp's voice sounded from within, as pompous as Bruce remembered from his days on Arkham's board. "Yes, send them in!" The secretary dutifully opened the door for Bruce and Bryant, then stepped to the side to allow them to enter. Bruce stepped in after Bryant, and his eyes narrowed. Sharp was sitting behind his desk, with an irritated look on his face as he watched the pair enter his office. This would be the first time either man had met with Sharp since the Arkham riot, or in Bruce's case, since his resignation from the board. It wasn't a meeting he was looking forward to, but Sharp was his best link to Strange. Strange was inaccessible to Batman for the time being, so Bruce Wayne would have to be enough. Bruce heard the office doors shut behind him, and almost on cue, Sharp cleared his throat and stood up from behind his desk. "Mr. Wayne," he nodded politely at Bruce. He abandoned all pretense at civility as he considered Bryant however, his face darkening in displeasure. "Bryant," he grounded out. "I have a speaking engagement in Park Row in two hours. Whatever it is you want, make it brief."

Bryant bristled for a moment but spoke in a firm voice. "It's about Arkham Asylum. Mayor, we're concerned about how the patients are being treated."

Bruce kept a close eye on Sharp, watching his facial expression change from confusion, to irritation. "I'm no longer involved in the day to day administration of Arkham Asylum. If you have any questions about the inmates, you should be directing them to Warden Strange."

'Inmates'. Technically, it was an accurate description, but the brittle tone of Sharp's words alone said all Bruce needed to know about how the Mayor viewed the denizens of Arkham. "We've tried," Bryant said. "He hasn't made himself available to us. And you're the one who appointed him to take over Arkham after you were elected. Doesn't he keep you informed about patient treatment?"

Sharp's eyes bulged out slightly, but then he huffed. "Well, of course, he does. He's assured me that all appropriate security measures are being taken-"

"With all due respect, sir," Bryant interrupted. "Security isn't the only important thing at Arkham. We've heard reports that the patients aren't getting the proper care they need. That their access to their doctors is being cut off, that they aren't allowed out of their cells at all-"

"Proper care?" Sharp scoffed. "Those...people are quite frankly getting more than they deserve! Or are you forgetting just what happened the last time we gave those degenerates free reign?"

Bruce smirked. Got you. Bryant's eyes flashed and his lips curled in disgust. He was about to say something cutting to Sharp when Bruce cut in. "So then these reports about how the patients are treated are true, Mayor Sharp?"

Sharp opened his mouth to respond, then he paled, once Bruce's words had sunk in. It seemed he had realized too late his slip-up and began to bluster, "I-well-of course not, the patients are receiving the care they're entitled to. They are not being mistreated in any way."

It was unconvincing, to say the least. Bryant seized the initiative and began questioning Sharp further. "What about the guards? We've heard that Lyle Bolton encourages them to beat the patients and keep them in lockdown!"

"As a safety precaution, the inmates' time outside of their cells has been restricted, yes," Sharp admitted. "And Bryant, you of all people should remember that sometimes physical force is necessary to ensure compliance from the inmates."

"I remember," Bryant seethed. "You know what else I remember? I remember that Bolton threw a patient out of a window for giving him lip. That man doesn't belong around sick people, Mayor."

"Oh, you've never liked Bolton," Sharp said dismissively. "Bolton isn't as gentle as some might like, but Arkham hasn't had a single incident since he took over as head of security!"

It was almost comical how Sharp kept walking into these little traps. Almost, given that the man was the Mayor of Gotham City. "Oh?" Bruce asked. "What about what happened to Victor Goodman?"

Sharp turned from Bryant to him with a look of shock, outrage, and, unless Bruce was mistaken, fear. He could see beads of sweat forming on the Mayor's brow. Had Sharp been present the night Goodman died? Or, Bruce realized, was he involved with Goodman's death? "Victor Goodman committed suicide," Sharp finally stammered. "It's unfortunate, but the man was terminally ill as well as mentally unstable."

So it seemed that Sharp was sticking to the story about the death being a suicide. Now it was time to see just how involved he was with Bolton's stunt in April. "Wasn't there an orderly who confessed to murdering him back in April? I thought I remembered hearing something about that on the news?"

Sharp's expression changed almost instantaneously from nervousness to confusion. "An orderly? I don't recall..." his eyes narrowed in concentration, then he nodded. "Oh yes, the Sanchez boy. Well, he was unstable as well. He was overworked, exposed to too much and he simply snapped. He falsely confessed to murdering Goodman than killed himself. Dreadful business. That's why we cut down on the inmates' access to staff, to prevent such an incident from happening again."

Something about Sharp's tone was off. Just a moment ago, he didn't recognize Sanchez at all, now it sounded as if he was reading from a prepared speech. It was odd. It was clear to Bruce though that whatever Sharp had seen or done when Goodman died, that he wasn't directly involved the cover-up around it, which meant that Strange and probably others were taking actions that the Mayor knew nothing about. It was concerning. He cleared his throat. "That being said, Mayor, we have grave concerns about the conditions at Arkham Asylum, and this conversation hasn't alleviated them."

Sharp's round face reddened as he considered Bruce. "You resigned from Arkham's board years ago, Mr. Wayne," he said through gritted teeth. "Why are coming to me with these concerns now?"

"I may have resigned from the board, but I still have a vested interest in how Arkham is run, Mayor," Bruce said with strained patience. "My Mother's foundation helped pay for a grant to rebuild the medical center after the riot two years ago." Sharp scoffed in response. Time to play hardball. "If you won't take our concerns seriously, Mayor," Bruce said. "Then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to pull all funding from Arkham, the City Hall renovations, and any other projects that you have in mind, for the rest of your term as Mayor." Sharp gaped at him like a fish. "Also, I'm ready and willing to go to Vicki Vale, Summer Gleason, and Jack Ryder with our concerns. We can settle this here or on the Six O'Clock news. Your choice, Mr. Mayor."

Sharp closed his mouth and glared up at Bruce. Finally, he slumped his shoulders. "What do you want?" he asked in a small voice. With no one to prop him up, the bluster was gone.

Bruce smiled then took a seat in front of Sharp's desk, before exchanging a look with Bryant. The former guard seemed equally pleased. "About Lyle Bolton..."

"You seem to be in a good mood."

Penelope looked up from where she was writing in her journal on the sofa to Joan's smiling face. Not long after the flowers had been delivered to her office, Joan had called her and suggested that she come over to her apartment to wait for Wayne and Bryant to return from Sharp's office. Penelope shrugged, then returned to her journal. "I suppose I am," she said. "For the first time, it feels like we're making tangible progress."

"Is that all?" Joan teased. "You've had a smile on your face the whole time you've been here, Penelope. I don't remember the last time I've seen you look so happy." She took a seat next to Penelope on the sofa. "I think there's a little more to it than just the prospect of getting back at Strange and Sharp."

Penelope realized that she was smiling, so she schooled her expression to a more neutral state. She looked down at her journal and shut it, considering her friend's words. Her good mood had everything to do with the meeting that had taken place in the Mayor's office and nothing to do with the bouquet of white and light red carnations that now sat in a vase on her office desk. Absolutely nothing. She looked up at Joan's curious, warm face and inwardly sighed. She'd hold the bouquet back, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt to tell Joan a bit of what had happened yesterday. "It was Edward's birthday yesterday. I spent some time with him and Ellen."

Joan raised her eyebrows. "Oh, that's right! I'll have to send him a card." Her expression changed then to one that was a bit more calculating. This made Penelope slightly nervous. "You spent his birthday with him and Ellen? You're getting pretty close, aren't you?"

Penelope bristled a bit. First Ellen, now Joan. She half expected Selina to start pushing the two of them together next. "We're friends, Joan, that's all it is. I know better than to get romantically involved with him." As if it would be remotely appropriate, given their past history. As if she had any time for any nonsense like that. As if he would even want her.

Joan nodded, but her expression didn't change. "I know, Penelope." Then she gently put a hand on her shoulder. "But if that changes, you'd tell me, right?"

It took all Penelope had to not roll her eyes. "Of course I would, Joan, but it won't. We're not in love with each other and we never will be. We're just friends."

A knock at the door mercifully cut off anything else Joan might say, and the older woman got up from the sofa to open it. She walked back into the living room followed by Wayne and Bryant. Both men had satisfied looks on their faces. Penelope sat straight up, the anticipation bubbling within her. "Well?" she asked. "How did it go?"

Bryant flashed her a charming grin. "The Mayor said, and I quote, that he would 'take a closer look at Bolton's conduct in Arkham.' I think we got the son of a bitch."

Penelope leaned back and let out a small breath. Bolton deserved worse than to be simply fired, but this was a start. It was the first step. "What about the patients?"

"I might have encouraged Sharp to accept a grant from the Martha Wayne Foundation," Wayne said, with a satisfied look on his face. "The grant will cover a remodeling of Arkham's interior, with special attention to the medical and recreation centers. All to be supervised by myself, of course."

Joan clasped her hands together. "Bruce, that's wonderful!" She turned to Penelope with a warm smile. "Penelope, what do you think?"

This time, Penelope let the smile come to her face. With Wayne bankrolling Arkham's remodel, he could be hers and Edward's eyes and ears into the Asylum. And if he could exert enough pressure on Sharp to get him to consider firing Bolton, maybe, just maybe, he could convince him to fire Strange. "Yes," she said. "It is. Thank you both."

"You don't have to walk me to my car you know," Penelope told Wayne as they exited Joan's apartment. Once the four had finished discussing what had happened in Sharp's office and their next steps, darkness had fallen over Gotham City. It was a warm humid night, and Penelope was glad that she hadn't worn a jacket that night.

Beside her, Wayne merely shrugged. "Just being polite, Penelope." They approached her little black car, parked right across the street from Joan's apartment building. Penelope had unlocked it with her key, but Wayne surprised her by getting in front of her and opening the door for her. He gave her a lopsided grin that, to anyone else, may have just been an example of his roguish charm, but to her, was as theatrical as anything Edward did. Wayne was charming, she couldn't deny that, and he seemed to genuinely want to help them, but there was an artificiality about the man that at times made her uneasy. Edward, for all his obnoxiousness at times, never hid his true self the way that she suspected Wayne did. It was a puzzle for another time though. The man had proven himself to be helpful and there was no sense in doing anything that might cause him to back out. "May I ask you something?" he asked.

Penelope paused mid-way between getting into her car and looked back up at Wayne. "Yes?" What could he have to ask her that hadn't come up in Joan's apartment? She thought of his reputation as a playboy and almost reflexively glowered. If he even hinted at wanting to proposition her, she'd slam the car door in his face.

"What's your end goal for Arkham?" Wayne asked and it occurred to Penelope that he had a thoughtful look on his face. It was enough to make her regret her uncharitable thoughts about the man. "I mean, you don't want to just get rid of Bolton and Strange, do you?"

Penelope looked down at her hands, thinking this question over in her head for a moment before she answered. "No. Of course not." She looked back up at Wayne. "Do you remember when we spoke in February, during the Commission?"

Wayne cocked his head to the side and nodded. "Of course."

Penelope clenched her hands around the steering wheel of her car. "Well, I've thought about it some more. Arkham Asylum is one of, if not the biggest example of a toxic status quo in this city." She set her jaw. "Once Bolton and Strange are gone, I want to completely overhaul it. It was never meant to be a prison. I want to take it back to what it originally was. A hospital for the mentally ill."

Wayne showed no visible reaction to this but the same thoughtful expression. "And the Rogues?"

Penelope took a breath. "The ones who need help, Dent, Tetch, Wesker, Zeus...They would benefit from treatment, not from punishment. More treatment then they're getting from Strange at least. The ones like Zsasz, though, or White, or Joker-" she paused to collect herself a moment. "They don't belong in the same place as the people Bolton's been abusing. They should have never been all put in the same institute, to begin with."

Wayne hummed, then reached up to scratch behind his ear. "That's going to be a lot of hard work."

"I realize that," Penelope said. She sighed, then leaned against her car seat, dropping her hands so they rested in her lap. "It will probably take me the rest of my life to accomplish it. It's what needs to happen though. This city can't just keep throwing people in Arkham and forgetting them."

There was a pause before Wayne spoke again. "No," he agreed. "It can't." Penelope looked surprised at him for a moment, then shook her head. She'd believed the worst of Edward a year ago, and look at how wrong she had been. She couldn't keep assuming the worst of Bruce Wayne. He flashed her another charming smile. "Well, from what I've seen, you seem to be up for the job."

Penelope let a small smile come to her own face. "Thank you, Bruce." Then she heard her phone buzz in her purse. "Excuse me, I should take this."

Bruce raised his hands and backed away from the car. "By all means. Good night, Penelope."

As soon as he was clear of the door, Penelope shut it, then reached into her purse to pull out her phone. "This is Dr. Penelope Young."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no tales."

Penelope smiled a bit wider. "Hello, Edward."

"Well, aren't we in a good mood. I take it Wayne and Bryant's ambush on Sharp went well?"

"Better than well. Sharp is probably going to order Bolton to be fired. And Bruce is going to be supervising a remodel of Arkham Asylum."

"Bruce?" Edward asked, and Penelope thought she could hear his chipper tone falter just a bit. "On a first name basis already I see. Ah, well. That's a start though. And to think, all it took was my daughter being a willful hellion and Bruce Wayne throwing his billions around."

Penelope rolled her eyes a bit. "Don't be like that, Edward. You played more than a small part in all this too."

"Of course I did. And so did you. You spearheaded this, Penelope. You deserve more than a fair share of the credit."

Penelope smiled again. Edward never shared credit with anyone if he could avoid it, and to have him share it with her made her happy in a way she didn't want to examine.

"What about my delivery?" he asked. "Did you get that?"

"The flowers?" Penelope asked, and she felt her face burn again. "Yes. That really wasn't necessary, you know."

"Well, neither was tagging along with Ellen to go Birthday shopping for me, but that didn't stop you," Edward teased. "Let me indulge you just this once."

Her face was hot now, and she was glad he couldn't see her, and that Bruce had crossed back to the other side of the street. "Why carnations?" she found herself asking.

"Well, carnations are the January birth flower, you know. And..." he paused for a moment. "They suit you, I think."

For a long moment, Penelope didn't know what to say. Finally, she settled for a "Thank you."

She could just picture him on the other side of the phone, with that smirk on his face. "Not at all. See you on Friday?"

"Of course. Good night, Edward."

"Good night."

Penelope hung up the phone and put it back in her purse, her heart beating just a bit faster. It was the thrill of finally getting one over on Strange, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the flowers. Or the man who had sent them. He was her friend. Nothing more. And she had work to do.

Across the street, Bruce had listened in to Dr. Young's conversation with a furrowed brow. When he'd opened her car door, he'd planted a bug in the inner lining and she hadn't picked up on it. Hopefully, she never would. It looked like his hunch was right. Anything that happened in this group, she'd tell Edward. That was not what gave him pause, however. He couldn't hear Edward's part of the conversation, but he did hear Dr. Young talking about flowers he had sent her. He'd assumed that after what had happened with Croc earlier that year, that Edward would be against any further romantic relationships. Was that not the case anymore? Just what were Edward and Dr. Young to each other? He heard her hang up the phone and watched from his spot underneath the awning of Dr. Leland's building as she drove away. He took off his listening device. If Edward and Dr. Young were in love with each other, even if they weren't aware of it yet, that made the entire situation even more complicated. Both of them seemed driven to take down Strange, and, at least in Dr. Young's case, undo her past mistakes as best she could. If it came down to it though, what would they choose?

Their goals, or each other?

Ward and Schrader sat in front of Strange's desk in Arkham Asylum, listening to him recount his recent, fraught conversation with Sharp. Ward had felt his temper rise with every word Strange spoke, while Schrader sat still, an almost bored look on his face. Finally, Strange concluded, folding his hands in front of his face and giving each man a piercing glance. "Bolton will have to be fired, there is no question about that," his deep voice sounded, almost echoing off the walls of his office. "Given his mishaps in April, this will not be a loss. However, that still leaves us with the matter of this little 'commission'." He inclined his head towards Schrader. "I've been told that you have a proposition for me?"

Schrader leaned forward, a cold smirk replacing the disinterested look. "We know who's behind this little stunt of Wayne's and Bryant's."

"Dr. Penelope Young," Strange said. "Yes, she has proved to be a bit more troublesome than I had anticipated. As I told Warden Ward, however, we cannot move directly on her without arousing the interest of Mr. Nigma."

Ward nodded. "We understand, Hugo. We can't directly attack her, but we can indirectly."

Strange looked at him, impassive, but interested. "Go on."

Ward wet his lip. "We know what her weakness is. We also know that there's someone out there who would very much like to see her dead."

Ward thought he caught a gleam in Strange's dark brown eyes, behind the round glasses. "You are referring to Bane. He is not incarcerated in Gotham at the moment, and his grudge against the woman alone will not be enough to bring him here."

"No, he'll need bait," Schrader said. "I know where the GCPD keeps the TITAN it confiscated two years ago. I can get to it easily."

An unreadable expression came over Strange's face. "You mean to release TITAN on the streets to lure out Bane?"

"I know where Bane is," Ward added. "I can get the word to him that TITAN's out on Gotham again. I can say that Dr. Young was the one who released it. That should be enough to bring him to Gotham."

"And if it doesn't," Schrader said, "Just the re-emergence of it will rattle the bitch a bit."

Strange leaned back in his chair, the unreadable look still on his face. "This is a very risky proposition," he said. "Bane is a cunning man, as well as a great physical threat."

"But he's rational," Ward said. "He won't burn the city to the ground for a laugh like the Joker would. Once he disposes of Young, he can be contained."

"And Mr. Nigma?"

Schrader snorted. "What's the green bean going to do? Swat Bane with his cane? If he even cares enough about the bitch to do anything."

"He saved her from Victor Goodman, Schrader. That can't be discounted."

"No offense, Professor, but Bane's not Goodman. Nigma's not stupid or brave enough to go up against him. And if he is, Bane will kill him. Win-win. Or maybe Young will just make a run for it when Bane shows up. That's a win-win for us as well. Or, worst case scenario, Bane never shows or gets caught before he can kill her, this will break her. I've dealt with her in GCPD. She's brittle. One sharp shove is all she needs to break completely. And it will be done in a way that won't come back to bite us, not like what Bolton did. No one is going to accuse us of deliberately luring Bane to Gotham. Hell, Bane won't even know we were involved. Any way you look at it, it's a win-win."

Strange seemed to ponder Schrader's words before he fixed Ward with a look. "Phillip? What do you think?"

Ward gulped a bit. He had misgivings about bring Bane to Gotham, and about releasing the TITAN back out to the streets. He'd seen the aftermath of what people on the substance could do. However, Young needed to be stopped before she and her little crusade could do any more damage to their cause. What was a bit of collateral damage against ridding Gotham City of crime once and for all? "I agree with Curtis," he said at last. "I think we should do it."

Strange nodded. "Very well. You have my permission to go ahead with this scheme. I will give you just one warning: if anything goes wrong, neither the Mayor nor myself can be involved. This is the last I hear of it from either of you. You must succeed or fail on your own. Is that clear?"

Ward nodded. "Yes." From the corner of his eye, he saw Schrader nod as well.

"Good. Go."

Strange waited until both men left before he let out a dark chuckle. "You could not stand against me as Batman, so you make your opening move as Bruce Wayne. You're using her as a pawn in our game, aren't you? Very well, Mr. Wayne. You will have your war. And she will be the first casualty. And perhaps Mr. Nigma will fall as well. And it will all be on you." He got up from his desk and crossed the room to a bare spot on the wall. He pressed a button and the wall opened, revealing a secret compartment. I a glass case, there was his most prized possession. A Batsuit that he had created himself, after spending countless hours studying footage and files of Batman. He lay a hand against the glass, his reflection looking back at him. From the angle, it was as if was wearing the cowl. "Soon," he murmured. "I, not you will be the guardian of Gotham City. And you, and all who follow you will burn."