July 27th, 8:00 pm

19 minutes, 25 seconds. 26, 27, 28, 29...Ellen checked her watch in between pants as she jogged down the streets of her neighborhood. Her 'homework' from Red Hood for the week was to beat her old record of circling her neighborhood streets and alleys. Her old record stood at 30 minutes and she was about two-thirds of the way done. No problem. Ellen regulated her breathing, ignoring the burn in her sides as she cut through an alley, avoiding obstacles. To distract herself, she thought about her visit with her father the day before. She frowned. He'd acted like Doc leaving the way she did didn't bother him, but Ellen could tell by how quiet he was that it did. He'd only told her that she'd been staying with him because of Bane being back in town and a rough outline of what had happened. Ahead of her, Ellen caught sight of a chainlink fence and crouched as she ran up to it, using her momentum to jump up to half the length of the fence and climbing over it. Dumbass Old Man, she thought as she landed and kept jogging. What the Hell was he thinking, going after Bane by himself? No wonder Doc was pissed at him. She was too, just a bit. Another part of her remembered how lonely her father looked when he dropped her off at home last night and felt pity. What the Hell had he and Doc talked about? She knew they weren't dating. Did he make a move and she turned him down? Or was it the other way around? Whatever it was, Ellen's father wasn't talking, and she somehow knew that Doc wouldn't say a word either. Stupid frickin' adults, making things more complicated than they needed to be.

Ellen was about to come out of the alley and make a right turn onto Market Street when a familiar motorcycle appeared in front of her. She came to a stop, caught her breath and put her hands on her hips. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, Kiddo," Red Hood said. He reached into his bag and tossed her a helmet. "Get on. We need to talk."

Ellen caught the helmet and bit her bottom lip. Gramma would be back from work in two hours, and while she accepted Ellen going out on runs as a way to 'work out tensions' blah, blah, blah, she would still pitch a fit if she got home before Ellen did. "Ok," Ellen said, putting her helmet on and sitting behind Red Hood on the bike. "My Gramma gets home at 10:00."

"Not a problem," Red Hood said, revving the bike. In a second, they were riding down the street. Red Hood was uncharacteristically quiet as they went down the by now familiar path to his hideout. This made Ellen nervous. She wished she could see his facial expression behind that red helmet, but he didn't seem to be angry with her at least. She hadn't done anything to make him mad, had she? They took the last turn down an alley and pulled up behind the apartment complex where Ellen did her training. He switched off the bike and hopped off, Ellen following him to the entrance of the building.

"So what's up?" Ellen asked when they entered. "Why do you need to talk to me?" She bit her lip again. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything Kiddo," Red Hood said, leading her down the stairs to his basement. "It's about what your Dad did."

Ellen paused for a moment before catching up to Red Hood. "What? You friends with Bane or something?"

At that, Red Hood let out a dry laugh. "No, not at all, but what he did makes our situation more complicated." When the pair reached the basement door, he abruptly stopped, then turned to face Ellen. "You still want to call yourself 'Enigma'?"

Ellen raised an eyebrow. "Yeah," she said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Rumor on the street is that the Rogues are pissed at your Dad for helping Batman. A couple of them went to the Iceberg Lounge to ask Cobblepot to 'take care' of Eddie."

Ellen clenched her fists. "That fat fuck better not have-"

"He didn't," Red Hood assured her. "Not yet at least. Fact is though, your Dad's making a new reputation for himself in the Underworld, and not a good one."

"People are gonna hate Dad no matter what he does," Ellen seethed, crossing her arms. "He's a crook, people hate him. He's not a crook, people still hate him."

"I don't disagree, but at least the people who hated your Dad for being a crook aren't the kind of people who would go after kids. If the Rogues can't get their hands on your Dad himself, they won't hesitate to go after people connected to him to send a message. You understand that?"

Ellen felt her blood run cold at the thought of the Rogues coming after her, coming after her Gramma, her friends, or Doc. Wasn't that why she was doing this though? To be able to protect herself and other people from the likes of Bolton and the Rogues? "I understand," she said. "But I'm Enigma, the Riddler's daughter. I'm not ashamed of that."

Red Hood gave her a short nod. "Good girl. Alright then. Tonight, we're going to start you on the next part of your training."

He unlocked the basement door finally and opened it, allowing Ellen to enter. Ellen's eyes widened in surprise when she saw the interior of the basement. Red Hood had done a bit of remodeling since she'd been here last. In the center of the room, there was a new practice dummy set up. There were pieces of ringed paper set up over the dummy's head and chest, target paper like she'd seen in cop shows. In an instant, Ellen realized what the targets were for. She whipped her head around to face Red Hood. "You're gonna teach me how to shoot, aren't you?"

"You got it," he answered, pulling a pistol off of his belt. He put the safety on the gun before he held it out to Ellen. "Go ahead, Kiddo. Take it."

Ellen hesitated for a moment before she took the pistol from Red Hood's outstretched hand. The only kind of guns she'd ever held before were cheap little plastic squirt guns and arcade game guns. The metal pistol felt heavier in her hands than she expected it would. For a minute or so, all she did was stare at it. She'd joked with her Dad about Aunt Nina and Deirdre teaching her to shoot, but it had always been a joke. This though? This was reality. She wondered just how many people Red Hood had killed with this thing. She looked back up and the words were out of her mouth before she could think them through. "You're gonna teach me how to kill people."

Red Hood cocked his head a bit. "I already have been," he said bluntly. "All those fighting moves I've been showing you? Those can kill people if you want them to." Ellen gulped. "Like I told you when we started this," he continued. "I'm giving you the tools you need to be able to do our kind of work. Whether you kill people with them or not, that's your call, and I'll never force you to kill anyone. In our line of work though, there will be times where it's you or them, and it damn sure isn't going to be you. No kids are going to die on my watch." Obviously, he was speaking from experience, but the last words he spoke seemed more raw, more personal. She didn't have time to ask him about it before he took step towards her. "You listen to me right now, Kiddo," he said. "If you are ever in a situation where you pull a gun, you don't hesitate. You shoot to kill. If you show any sign of weakness, or reluctance, the bad guys will take your gun away and kill you with it. You understand?" Ellen nodded, almost frightened by his words and the tone he used. Red Hood took a step back. "Just so we're clear. You ready for this?"

Ellen took a look back down at the gun. This was real. She was going to learn how to shoot and kill someone. Was she ready for this? Could she do this? She thought of her Gramma, and how horrified she'd be at the idea of her using a gun. She thought of her Dad, and how pissed he'd be that she was following him down this road. Then she thought of Bolton and his smug smirk. She thought of Marisol, who was far away in Puerto Rico because of him and his bosses. She thought of Miguel, who had died alone trying to save his sister and his patients. She thought of her Dad again, and about how he needed someone to watch his back. She thought of herself, and how she was sick of being powerless and on the sidelines. She looked back up at Red Hood and nodded. "I'm ready. Let's do this."

10:30 pm

Penelope had spent all of that Monday in her apartment getting caught up on paperwork and research that she'd been neglecting. At least, she'd tried. She'd tried so hard to push her feelings down, to block them out by concentrating on her work, until finally she couldn't anymore. She was sitting in her Ottoman chair now writing her thoughts in her journal. I never meant for this to happen. I never even intended to be his friend. What did Selina warn me about last year, during the Bierko case? Once he gets under your skin, he never leaves? He's in now, and I don't think he's going to leave. I don't know that I want him to. I've had to stop myself so many times from calling him, but as I told Joan, we can't let ourselves become compromised. If Strange thinks he can use us against each other, he won't hesitate, and there's Ellen to consider as well. I can't see him until I get this under control. I can't be with him. I can't be with him, even though I am slowly, but surely coming to terms with the fact that...Penelope stopped for a moment to collect herself, then crossed out the last two sentences she'd written before continuing. She was a rational woman of science. She valued cold reason and logic above everything else. How had this happened to her? How had Edward caused her to behave like this? She archly wondered for a moment if this was what Professor Crane had thought the moment he realized that he was in-no. No, this was a different situation. She would never be Professor Crane, and what had existed between him and Edward...she could never have that. She needed to put those thoughts behind her, get back to her work. That was how she'd worked through her problems in the past, and that was what she needed to do now.

She glanced back down at her journal and began to write again. I was his doctor-even though that had been the better part of four years ago by now, and the idea that she had any undue power over him was ludicrous even back then. He is a former criminal-and if that truly bothered her, she would never have approached him about Strange in the first place. He said he didn't love me-no. That wasn't what he'd said at all. He'd said that he didn't know if he loved her or not. Not that he didn't, or couldn't love her. 'But what about you, Penelope?' a voice spoke in her head, sounding like Joan and her mother. 'What do you want? What do you feel? Do you love him?'

"It doesn't matter," she whispered to herself. "It can't happen."

A rustling noise from her window caught her attention and her head snapped up, only for her to almost jump out of her chair at the sight of a black shadow entering her living room. Her heart rate returned to normal when she recognized Batman. "Dr. Young," he said softly. "I need to speak with you."

Penelope put her journal down on her coffee table and stood up. "I've already met with Commissioner Gordon regarding the incident with Bane," she said in a calm, measured voice. "Was there something else? Do you have any additional information?"

Batman took a slow step towards her. "No," he said. He seemed to mull over his next words. "I'm here about your partnership with Edward Nigma."

Penelope's heart clenched a bit at hearing Edward's name before the implications of what the vigilante said reached her. He knew about her and Edward's investigation-of course he knew. Had Commissioner Gordon told him or-realization set in. "That bug you planted in my car," she said, piecing it together. "That had nothing to do with the TITAN. That was so you could keep tabs on Edward." Anger began to flood her veins. "I was a pawn."

Batman didn't even bother to deny it. "I've been aware that the two of you were investigating Hugo Strange and Mayor Sharp for some time. I also know that you're working with Joan Leland, Joe Bryant, and Bruce Wayne to reform Arkham Asylum. I needed to know what information you two were sharing."

"I see," Penelope said, crossing her arms. "I suppose now that I found your bug, you need another way to eavesdrop on Edward. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I've ended my partnership with him for the time being. I don't know when I'll be seeing him again." Rationally, she knew she was being overly harsh on the man who had come to their rescue the night before, but the fact was, he had been using her against Edward, just as she feared Strange would. He'd proven why she was right to distance herself from Edward, and that made her feel worse.

When Batman spoke again, though, he didn't sound offended by her manner. Instead, he nodded. "That's for the best," he said, and something about the way he said it cut her to the quick. "This business with Strange is only going to get more dangerous. He had no right to get you involved-"

She would not listen to this attack on Edward. Not ever again. "He didn't!" Penelope shouted. "I don't know how many more times I need to say this! I was the one who approached him! I was the one who chose to be involved! He's the one who gave me a way out after what happened with Goodman! I am not some hapless fool who was manipulated into a situation I didn't understand! I deserve more respect than that!"

Batman stood still, not even flinching in the face of her anger. "I didn't mean to disrespect you, Dr. Young," he spoke softly as if he was trying to soothe her. "But we both know how reckless and obsessive Edward can be. This last incident is proof of that. He's going to cause even more trouble with Strange if he keeps investigating. He needs to stop."

"'He's going to cause more trouble,'" Penelope repeated. "That's an interesting choice of words. Tell me, are you genuinely concerned for Edward's well being?"

She couldn't properly gauge his facial expression due to the cowl, but Penelope could detect Batman's jaw clench. "I wouldn't be here tonight if I wasn't."

"Really?" Penelope asked. "Going around him to talk to me, planting a bug in my car to eavesdrop on our conversations, keeping him at arm's length. This isn't about your concern for his well being. This is about your mistrust, your need to control the situation. This is about the fact that you can't bring yourself to believe that he isn't about to relapse." Penelope sighed. "I know that due to your history, you are about the last person on Earth who will ever be able to trust Edward Nigma, and I know that he is as suspicious of you as you are of him. But hasn't it occurred to you, just once, that this mutual resentment is playing right into Strange's hands?"

Batman said nothing and somehow Penelope knew that she had struck home. Finally, he spoke. "I didn't know that you'd already ended your partnership," he admitted. "I didn't intend to come here and add to your pain. I just need you to understand what's potentially at stake."

It was as close to an apology one could expect from the Dark Knight. Penelope nodded. "I'm fully aware. I told Jim Gordon this yesterday, and now I'll tell you. If Edward truly does become a danger to himself or others, I will be the first to take action, but I will never inform on him. Not to GCPD and not to you."

Batman stared at her for another long moment, then without a word, walked back to her open window and exited her apartment. Penelope took a step back, all but collapsing into her Ottoman chair. With a shaky hand, she picked up her pen and returned to her writing. Batman's visit tonight confirms that I made the right call to distance myself from Edward for the time being. I can't allow myself to become a weapon to be used against him. I have to do what's right for us, even though it hurts. Even though-Penelope shut her eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. Even though I am coming to terms with the fact that my feelings for Edward run deeper than friendship.

11:00 pm

Edward really didn't want to go out to the Iceberg Lounge tonight. Quite frankly, after the chewing out he got over the phone from Nina, Deirdre, and Selina earlier that day, he'd had enough human interaction to last him a while. Oswald had insisted, however, that what he wanted to say was better said in person. And so, here Edward was, stepping through the entrance and ignoring the Maitre D' as he guided him towards Oswald's table. The sooner he could get this over with and go back to his apartment to spend another restless night on his sofa because he still couldn't bear to sleep where she'd been, the better.

What struck him when he entered the Iceberg Lounge's restaurant was how empty it was. Even on slower nights, people patronized the Lounge well into the wee small hours of the morning. Tonight, the room was empty, save for a handful of waiters that Edward could see cleaning the tables. And of course, Oswald, sitting at his usual table, his rotund figure unmistakable even in the dimmed lights. As Edward drew closer, he noticed that his grip on his cane had tightened. Oswald was his friend and he trusted him, but something about this set-up felt...well, like a set-up. Some old instinct was warning him to watch out for an ambush. When he reached the table and took his seat opposite Oswald, his friend had nothing but a smile on his face. "Well, well," he drawled, lighting a cigarette. "Here's our man of the hour."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Oh God, not you too, Ozzie. I've had enough scoldings over the past few days to last me a lifetime, thank you very much."

Oswald arched an eyebrow. "Forgive me, Edward, but I'm a bit surprised. I would have thought given what you accomplished, that you would be in higher spirits."

What he'd accomplished. He'd helped capture Bane, yes, but he'd lost Penny. Edward shut his eyes, reliving the memory of their last conversation. He didn't know if he loved her, and he knew he wasn't ready for a relationship, but when she left, it felt like she'd taken a part of him with her. "I've had a very rough few days, Oswald."

Oswald hummed and let out a puff of smoke. "I'm sure. Marco! Fetch me and Mr. Nigma some liquid libation. I have a new bottle of Merlot-"

"If I'm going to tell the whole story, I'm going to need something stronger," Edward sighed, slumping his shoulders. He'd rather not tell the story at all, but Oswald at least wouldn't judge him too badly.

Oswald nodded. "Very well. Marco, the Merlot for me, whiskey for Mr. Nigma."

A half-hour, and half a dozen shots later, Edward had finished his tale. "...She said she needed to take a step back, and then she left me," he said, picking up his shot glass. He downed the shot in seconds, barely noticing the burn in his throat. "Not that I blame her, of course." He put his shot glass down and shook his head dolefully. The liquor loosened his tongue and unleashed the self-loathing that had been present since his ill-fated meeting with Harley. "I couldn't have handled that whole situation any worse if I tried."

"There, there," Oswald said, puffing away at his cigarette. "I'm sure it's for the best." He let out a scoff. "An Arkham doctor and a Rogue. We all know how well that story ends."

Edward clenched his shot glass tight and glared at Oswald. "I know you mean well, Ozzie," he said. "But you're starting to tread on very thin ice."

Oswald held a hand up to placate him. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to make any untoward comparisons."

Edward didn't believe that for a moment, but he let it slide, relaxing his grip on the shot glass. He'd had enough for now. "Well, it's not like I was in love with her anyway, so it's no great loss," he said, not even attempting to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Maybe she'll find herself another Dr. Michael and have an ivy-covered house and 2.5 kids after she bags her white whale." Edward had noticed, in between drowning his sorrows, that Oswald hadn't seemed at all surprised about Penelope's role in the affair. "Tell me the truth, Ozzie. You already knew what happened before you called me."

Oswald took another puff of his cigarette. "Harley visited me last night. She told me, quite hysterically I might add, about how you were so head over heels in love with Dr. Young that you were ready to cast everything else aside for her."

"Oh, that's just asinine," Edward sneered. "But what else can we expect from Harley? She thinks she's the protagonist of some trashy supermarket romance novel when she's just a supporting character in a Grand Guignol."

Oswald let out a loud chuckle. "Never at a loss for a clever description, are you Edward? I gathered that Harley was exaggerating a hair."

"Of course she was," Edward said, straightening up. He looked Oswald dead in the eyes. "But you didn't call me out here at 11 at night just to talk about Harley."

Oswald put down his cigarette holder and let out a long sigh. "No," he admitted. "Edward, Harley wasn't the only visitor I had last night. Harvey, Arthur Brown, and a few other of your former colleagues also stopped by."

Edward immediately sobered up. "Oh? I take it they weren't impressed by my 'heroics'."

"No," Oswald said. "No, they were not. Harvey, in particular, was adamant that you pose a threat to him and the rest of the Rogues."

Long ago, the thought that the other Rogues were intimidated by him would have thrilled Edward. There was still a part of him, buried somewhere deep inside him, that was positively crowing with pleasure. "Well, Harvey's never liked me, so that's not too much of a surprise." Edward frowned at the dark look on his friend's face. "Am I in danger?"

"Yes," Oswald said. "Frankly, Harvey's been suspicious of you since you announced your reformation, but I've always been able to hold him and the others back." Oswald leaned forward. "But Edward, my friend, I can only hold them back for so much longer. If you continue as you have been, I will be limited in what I can do to protect you."

Edward sat there almost dazed. "'As I have been?' Ozzie, what are you talking about?"

Oswald cocked his head slightly as if he was confused by the question. "When you began your reformation, you made it clear to me that you were only acting in your self-interest. That you had no intention of assisting Batman or the GCPD in foiling the Rogues."

"And I don't! That hasn't changed," Edward argued. He took a breath. "If Bane had killed Batman, he would have killed Penny next. I couldn't let that happen."

"I understand that," Oswald said patiently. "And if Bane were an isolated incident, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But Edward, Bane is only the latest of the Rogues you've helped dispose of in the past year, and Harvey and the others have noticed."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "You can't put any of that on me," he seethed. "In the first place," he began to count on his fingers. "Selina had more to do with Jervis than I did. I gave Jervis every possible consideration I could until he decided to trap me in his twisted Wonderland. Secondly, Goodman came out of retirement to antagonize me. I can't be faulted for defending myself. Thirdly, Croc..." He thought of Jonathan and shut his eyes. Diane, Lina, Jon, Penny...God, him and romance just did not mix. "That was personal," he said at last. When he opened his eyes, Oswald was giving him a critical look.

"Any one of those incidents by itself could be easily explained away," he said. "But my friend, all four of those incidents, inside a year? It's beginning to look like a pattern, as Harvey said. You know as well as I do that in our business, perception counts as much, if not even more, than facts."

Edward knew that. He didn't need to be told that, but it didn't mean the Rogues weren't being paranoid morons. Were they, though? A voice asked. If you were in their position, wouldn't you be suspicious too? "I'm no hero, Ozzie," he said. "I'll be the first to admit I'm not even a good person." He thought again of Ellen, of Penny, of Jon. The chaos and pain he'd brought down on all of them were proof enough that he wasn't a good person. No one ever said I had to be a good person.

"Who is a good person in Gotham?" Oswald asked. "But Edward, you've also made it clear that you're no longer a Rogue, either. That leaves you in a very gray area, one that makes people on both sides uncomfortable."

"Straddling the fence seems to have worked out just fine for you and Selina," Edward pointed out.

"Well, let's be honest. Selina, while a thief, was never really a Rogue, certainly not in your category. We all learned years ago exactly what to expect from Selina. And in my position, neutrality is also expected of me. You, however? An Arkham Rogue who not only reformed but uses their talent to solve crime instead of committing it? You're uncharted territory, Edward. No one knows what to expect from you anymore. Why else do you think Professor Strange took such interest in you?" Oswald took another puff and blew out a long stream of smoke. "Which brings us to your investigation of Strange."

Edward bristled. "I only started that because of his attacks on me. I could care less about what nefarious plan he has for Gotham." Except that wasn't true anymore, was it? Hadn't he been ready and willing to help Penny in her crusade to reform Arkham? Didn't he want to make Strange pay for his part in hurting Ellen? "Are you going to cut me loose on that?"

"Not at all," Oswald said. "Strange needs to be stopped for the crackdown Sharp's implemented alone. I will continue to assist you as much as I can. Have you considered though, that Batman may be investigating him too?"

Edward would be amazed if Batman wasn't. "I won't work with him. Not now, not ever." Early in his reform, he'd toyed with the idea, if more to show up the Dark Knight than anything else. Now though? That bridge was well and truly burned.

"If you continue down this path, you may not have a choice."

Edward sighed, tired and frustrated. "What's the point of this, Ozzie? So I'm not a Rogue, and I'm not a hero. So what? I've survived this long straddling the fence."

"Times are changing, Edward. You are changing, even if you can't see that yet." Oswald took a long puff from his cigarette and gave Edward an almost sad look. "My dear boy," he said. "You cannot straddle the fence forever. One day, you will be put into a position where you will be forced to decide where exactly your loyalties lie. Not 'may'. Will. And when that day comes, you will have to be ready for the consequences of that decision."

Edward left soon after that, only giving Oswald a cursory nod goodbye. He took the scenic route back to his apartment, driving through the well-lit streets of Gotham's downtown and dissecting everything Oswald had said. He finally concluded, a block away from his home, that his friend was right. He wasn't a Rogue, but he wasn't a good person. He wasn't the man he'd been when he was the Riddler. He wasn't even the man he'd been a year ago. Where had that man gone? When and why had he changed? He'd fought other Rogues, he was working to foil a sinister plot, he'd even helped Batman bring down Bane for God's sake! Where had that man come from? Who was he? Who was he becoming? Hugo Strange's words from over a year ago rang clear again in his hand. "Riddle me this: who is Edward Nigma? What kind of man is he when Riddles aren't involved? That was something you used to know, wasn't it?" Even if he'd never really been well, he'd at least had certainty, he'd had answers. He had no answers now. He didn't even know which questions to ask. He pulled into his parking lot, stopped his car, reached into his pocket and was halfway through dialing Penny's number when he remembered himself and put his phone away. She'd asked for her space, and he owed it to her to grant her request. And yet, there was no one he wanted or needed more than her right now. Instead, he exited the car and trudged up the long stairs to his apartment.

Once inside, he dug through his hall closet and pulled out a box. It was the first box of old mementos that Nina and Deirdre had sent him after he'd moved in. He took the box with him into his bathroom, walking past his room and ignoring it. When he was inside the bathroom, he stood in front of his mirror and placed the box on top of his sink. He took off his shades and placed them in the hem of his shirt, wincing a bit at the bright light. He then opened the box and pulled out an old purple domino mask. According to the girls, this had been the first mask he'd worn as the Riddler. He looked long and hard at his reflection, at the man who he did and didn't recognize all at once. He took a breath, then he put on the mask. He looked again at his reflection. "Riddle me this," he whispered. "Who are you?"