Not hard, but boring as hell. And kind of cold. But after nearly two hours, I've made it.
The first bad sign is that the door is unlocked. The second bad sign is that all his computers are gone, except one.
"Edward?" I call out in vain. "Are you here?"
No answer. Not that I was really expecting one.
I take a quick look around, finding it all empty except for the lone computer. I sigh. I guess I start with that.
I press the on button and wait while it boots up. No sooner did the screen come to life than a booming voice filled the room.
"I don't know or care who you are, but you shouldn't be here. Leave now and there will be no consequences. Stay, and I can't promise the same."
My heart leaps. I'd know that voice anywhere. I spin around, looking for the speaker, and my heart takes a nose dive as I see not him in person, but his image projected on the wall.
"Edward!" I shout, grinning widely. "I'm here!" I wave at him, but the image remains impassive. "Hey!" No reaction. Okay. Either he can't see or hear the room, or his video is pre-recorded.
I turn back to the computer and see a login screen, asking for a password.
"Crap." I can't even guess at what he would have made the password. It could be anything.
Riddler. I type and hit enter.
PASSWORD INCORRECT. Flashes at me on the screen.
"Only two more tries." Riddler's voice singsongs.
I look at the computer, thinking about the password. Something more personal maybe?
Edward Nigma.
PASSWORD INCORRECT. Damn it!
"Let me put it this way. The only way you're going to get that password is if I want you to find me. So give up now."
I frown up at the giant Riddler on the wall. Why the hell did he have to make this so hard? And if I get it wrong, how am I ever going to find him?
That gives me an idea.
He would want me to find him. If he thought I'd ever make it back to Gotham, he'd want to be found, but only by me. Maybe my last guess wasn't personal enough.
I turn back to the screen, say a little prayer for luck, and type.
Belle Mitchell.
PASSWORD CORRECT. ACCESS GRANTED.
I beam at the computer. I'm in! Before I can click anything, a screen pops up, showing a blurry video of a dark room. I turn up the audio and listen carefully. I can hear something off camera, someone shuffling around.
"Um, hello?" I say, feeling a little stupid. Can they even hear me?
My question is answered when I hear something being dropped to the ground and someone barges onto the screen, peering back at me.
"Who's there?" My heart freezes. It's him.
"Edward? Is that you? Can you hear me?"
"Who's there? How did you get into that computer?" He demands, squinting at the screen.
"It's me you idiot. Where are you?"
"Belle? You're here? How are you here?" He asks, looking shocked.
"It's kind of a long story, and I would love to tell it to you. So where the hell are you?" I ask again, my face already sore from smiling too widely.
"Stay there. I'll come to you."
"Sure. How far away are you?"
"I won't be long. Just stay there." He insists. Jeeze.
"Yeah, no problem. I'll be here." I answer and he nods, satisfied, before the video connection goes dead.
I look around the room and sigh. Now, I wait.
I look around the place again, but after that, there's not much else to do.
After 20 minutes, I'm bored. There's nothing else in the place except for the computer, which is completely blank. So I'm sitting next to it on the desk, twiddling my thumbs.
What is taking Riddler so long?
I've almost made up my mind to leave him a note and go explore Gotham a bit when I hear movement outside. Finally!
"Well you took your time!" I shout. No reply. "Hey! Edward?" I try again, but still no voice contact. I march over to the door to see what's taking him so long and next thing I know, its lights out.
?
I wake up with a wicked headache.
Groaning, I try and sit up. I'm groggy and I feel like I've been hit by a bus. Not a pleasant way to wake up. I blink sleep out of my eyes and take in my surroundings.
Not helpful. Nothing recognisable.
I'm in a small room, maybe a storage cupboard. No windows, completely empty, with a mean looking lock on the door. There goes any hope of a quick escape.
From wherever the hell I am.
I stand up slowly, brushing myself off. Wherever I am, it's filthy. There's dust and dirt all over the floor, and the room smells musty, covering another strange smell. I walk over to the door and try it, just in case.
Locked.
"Hey! Who's out there?" I shout, banging my fist against the door. "Edward? If that's you out there, we really need to have a talk about appropriate reactions when greeting your girlfriend! For example; this? Not appropriate!" I scream.
Even as I'm saying it, I know the chances aren't good that it's Riddler who bought me here. This isn't his style.
"Come on! Who the hell is out there?" I shout, getting desperate. Maybe no one is out there. Maybe no one is even coming back for me. I might die in a supply cupboard, alone.
That's when I hear it.
A weird, slow, almost mechanical breathing coming from the other side of the door. I strain my ears, but that's all I can hear over my own heartbeat and ragged breaths.
Who makes that noise? "I can hear you breathing, you creep!"
The person on the other side makes no sign that they hear me. I try and calm myself, breathing deeply and slowly. I press my ear to the door and listen again.
More sounds this time. There's the weird breathing, but I can also hear glasses clinking gently. Is the guy making a cup of tea?
I take another deep breath and the strange smell hits me again. I frown. It's actually kind of... familiar.
I keep deep breathing, trying to remember where I know that smell from. It's sharp and unpleasant, like... like chemicals.
Suddenly it clicks. Chemical smell, someone breathing as if through a mask, and glasses clinking. He's not making tea, he's mixing chemicals.
"Scarecrow!" I shout. "I know it's you out there you nut job! Let me out!" I pause and hear footsteps, coming closer.
"Quiet. Or I'll test my new batch of toxin on you."
Damn. I had really wanted to be wrong. I can think of a lot of people I'd rather be held hostage by.
"What's going on? Why am I here?" I shout through the door, knowing I'm pushing my luck.
But I get no answer, and Crane goes back to clinking glasses and breathing creepily. I lean against the wall and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor. This is bad. This is really bad.
"Why me?" I shout again, half directed towards Crane, half to the universe. Why did this crap always happen to me?
"This isn't about you, you stupid girl." Scarecrow rasps through the door. "This is about me, and revenge. I owe Nigma, and you happen to be the best way I can get to him. You're nothing but a pawn."
"Way to make a girl feel special." I shoot back at him. "How do even know this will work? It's been ages since I last saw Edward! He might not even care about me anymore." I say, mostly to try and get Scarecrow to let me go, but partly because it felt good to say it out loud. It had been a while since I saw Edward. What if he really didn't care?
"That's a chance I'm willing to take." Is the only reply I get.
That feels like the end of the conversation, so I go back to sitting on the floor, trying to figure out my best plan of attack. After a few minutes of thinking furiously, I'm still coming up empty. And I need to pee.
"Hey, Crane! You gotta let me out, I need to use the bathroom." I yell at him, feeling only mildly embarrassed.
"Hold it. I'm sure Nigma will be coming for you soon enough."
"Come on, I need to go now. Be a decent person will you?" I beg.
"Be quiet."
"Look, you've got me alright? I'm trapped. I'm not going anywhere. But right now, I really need to go." There's a pause, then I hear a loud sigh.
"Fine. But if you try anything, you will regret it. Trust me."
"I trust you. Now let me out." There's the jingling of keys and suddenly the door swings open, to reveal Scarecrow, just as terrifying as I remember him.
"You have sixty seconds. Any longer and..." He trails off, letting his threat go unfinished. I nod, showing my understanding. He stares me down for a moment longer before leading me out my small prison and down to a dirty bathroom. I walk in and shut the door behind me and get to work immediately.
There's a small window three quarters up the wall that I think I could fit out of, if only I can break the glass. I look back at the door, gather my courage, and pull off my jacket. I climb up on the dirty porcelain sink below the window so the glass is at shoulder height. I wrap the jacket around my hand, making a fist and punch as hard as I can. It shatters immediately, glass falling down around my legs.
I'm brushing the remaining shards out of the window when the door bursts open and Scarecrow comes running in. I leap, throwing myself out the window, heart pounding. I land, half in and half out of the window, with broken glass tearing at my exposed skin and clothes.
I almost make it.
I'm trying to wiggle my way through when a hand clamps down on my ankle, pulling me back.
"No!" I shout desperately, kicking as hard as possible trying to get free.
"I warned you." Scarecrow hisses. "I warned you, and now you'll pay."
The last time I had a taste of Scarecrow's toxin replays through my mind. No way did I want to go through that again. With a renewed sense of purpose, I kick at him viciously, hitting him square in the nose. The shock is enough to make him loosen his hold on me a tiny bit, but it's all I need. I wrench my leg free and wiggle my way through the window to freedom. I jump up and start sprinting as fast as I can, in no particular direction, my only thought to put as much space between us as I can. I leave Scarecrow screaming and cursing behind me.
I run and run until I can't breathe and I have a stitch in my side that feels like knives. I duck into a darkened ally and lean over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath and not throw up. Adrenaline and fear mixes in my system, making my head spin but my only thought is Edward. I have to find Edward.
As soon as my lungs are under control and puking isn't as likely, I take a quick assessment of my injuries. A few cuts and scrapes from climbing through the broken window, and definitely some bruises that'll show in a day or two. Only two cuts are a bit deep, but I can deal with them later. I tentatively head back to the mouth of the ally, looking up and down the street beyond for any signs of homicidal hostage takers. Once I'm positive the coast is clear, I set out at a slow jog, looking for a pay phone.
Two blocks later, I hit pay dirt. Only problem is, I don't have any coins. I dial Edward's number, which is committed to memory, and listen to it ring out. I dial again, knowing that even if he answers, the call won't connect properly and he won't be able to hear me. Again it rings out. I dial again, and again, and again. After the sixth time, I pause, waiting. I laugh in relief when the pay phone begins to ring. This is exactly what I'd hoped he'd do. I pick it up, but he speaks before I get a chance to.
"How did you get this number?" He demands, sounding exactly like the bossy Edward I know.
"It's me! It's Belle." I exclaim.
"Belle?" His voice immediately loses its harsh edge and becomes warmer. "Are you okay?"
"I'm alright. Where are you?"
"Well I was on my way to get you... but I'm assuming you're no longer with Crane?"
"You assume correctly." I grin.
"Poor fool obviously didn't know what a difficult hostage you make." He says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
"I know, I'm terrible. And lost. I have no idea where I am." I admit.
"Stay there. I'll come and get you." He says and hangs up. No doubt he's already traced the call or something and knows exactly where I am. I'm not sure whether to be creeped out or pleased.
For the moment though, if it gets me the hell away from Scarecrow, I'll be freaking delighted with his stalking tendencies.
And of course, I'm more than a little excited to see Edward. And more than a little nervous. I mean, it's been years since I last saw him. I know I've changed, but has he? I'm a little taller, I've cut my hair a bit shorter, and thanks to my jogging and self defence classes, I've developed some muscle tone. It's not much, and doesn't make me look particularly threatening, but it's there.
By the time a dark car pulls up to the curb, my anxiety is through the roof and puking is back on the list of possibilities. But the moment the driver's door opens and Riddler steps out, my body relaxes. My feet move without conscious command, and suddenly I'm in his arms.
He hugs me so tight it almost hurts, and yet it's not tight enough. Scarecrow, Harley and Gotham all fall away for a few perfect seconds.
And then he pulls away.
"Belle, how did you get here?" He asks seriously. "You should be home."
My heart drops to my stomach. He doesn't want me here.
"Harley." I choke out eventually. "We forgot Harley. She was there, and threatening my mom, and I shot her, and I just..." I trail off. He stays quiet for a moment, studying me.
"Alright. Get in, we'll get you cleaned up and figure out the situation."
I climb into the car dejectedly. I'm a situation that needs to be figured out. He really didn't want me here.
We drive for about twenty minutes. I stare out the window the whole time without really seeing anything, lost in my own depressing thoughts until we stop in front of a large apartment complex.
"Where are we?" I ask, looking at the upscale building in confusion.
"A safe house. I keep an apartment on the twelfth floor." He explains. But that's all he says.
We ride the elevator up in silence and enter the apartment.
It's similar to the house he had, back on my street, but very different at the same time. Decorated in dark woods and leather, open floor plan and a computer in the corner that looks like it could control the Mars Rover.
"Nice place." I comment, because I'm not sure what else to say. Riddler gestures to the couch a few feet away, so I walk over and drop into it. He walks out of the room for a moment and comes back with a first aid kit. He quietly and efficiently works on my wounds, disinfecting and bandaging. He tidies up the deep cut on my leg, but pauses when he gets to the one on my stomach.
"This will need stitches." He looks up at me.
"You do it." I say without hesitation. No way could I do it myself, and I'm not going to a hospital. He simply nods and pulls out a needle and sterile thread from the kit.
"This will hurt." He warns, and begins. He's right. I hiss in pain as the needle pierces my skin, and the thread pulls through. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip, focusing on breathing until he finishes a few moments later. A plaster goes over the top of the wound and it's finished. Sore, but finished. I wince as I readjust my position, putting pressure on the cut. Riddler washes up and puts the first aid kit away, then sits in the arm chair opposite me.
"Now tell me, from the top. How are you here?"
I explain again, in detail about finding Harley at my Mom's house, her thinly veiled threats, and the confrontation in the parking lot.
"I only thought of Harley again when I got back here." He admits. "With no way to contact you... I hoped you'd remember quickly."
"Probably wouldn't have forgotten her in the first place, if someone didn't distract me when I was following her." I mumble, glancing up at him. The corners of his mouth twitch up.
"We were undercover. I was being thorough." He says, developing a full on smirk.
"A likely excuse." I quip. But my heart is starting to race. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he is glad I'm here after all. I smile a little at him.
"Belle..." He starts, the smile disappearing.
"Oh crap. I was right, you don't want me here." I can literally feel my heart sink into my stomach and my face turning red. "Wow. Okay, I totally read that wrong. Sorry." I'm thinking that I might actually die of embarrassment and just end up back home.
"That's not what I meant." He says quickly. "I'm happy you're here, I am." He sounds so earnest I almost believe it. "But things are a little... different here now. You'd probably be safer at home with Harley."
"What's new? Last time I was here, this place was a super prison. If I can handle all those thugs, I can handle Gotham the city."
"That's not what I meant. Whe-"
"I can handle myself!" I interrupt him. "I faced Harley on my own, didn't I?"
"If you'd listen, I could finish explaining." He says, sounding like his old demanding self. I shrug, motioning him to go on. "When I arrived back in Gotham, the rest of our friends weren't exactly thrilled to see me. Apparently they took me helping to kill them quite personally." He says. I take a moment to think it over.
"So what you're saying is... you're a target. That's why Crane took me. To get back at you for helping Batman kill him."
"Precisely."
"Well you weren't exactly Mr. Popular before, so why does it matter so much now?" I ask, frowning.
"Before, I was on the same side as the others. A higher level of brilliance in my plans, but the same side. Now, aside from the Bat, I'm the most hated person from Arkham."
Okay. This is not good news.
"And you're staying in a very attackable sky rise apartment why?" I ask, gesturing around. "This isn't exactly laying low, Nigma."
"I have multiple safe houses around the city. All under different names, all far too well hidden for the likes of Crane or Zsasz to find me." He grins, sounding superior.
"So, you don't wish I'd never shown up?" I ask quietly, finally giving voice to my fear.
"Not at all." He assures me, getting up from the armchair and helping me to my feet. "There was a reason I left that computer in my old safe house." He pulls me towards him, into a tight hug. While I can't say I'm glad you're in Gotham, I am happy to see you." It's probably the most sentimental thing I've ever heard him say. My stomach is full of crazy butterflies, and I'm back on top of the world.
"How long were you planning on staying, exactly?" He asks, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other under my chin, tilting my face up to his.
"Well, when I went home last time, almost no time had passed. So no one will actually notice me missing..." I say, getting distracted by just how close his face is. "So I guess I could stay for a while. At least until you're sick of me."
"That might be a while." He threatens in a low voice.
"I might be okay with that." I get out before he closes the gap between us, kissing me fiercely. I return the kiss with just as much force, allowing myself to feel relieved that he still wants me, that this wasn't totally one sided. For that moment, I ignore all the problems being in Gotham bought, and let myself feel happy.
A/N: And I'm back! And owe an explanation. So, I've been holding off and waiting on this story because it was originally going to follow the events of Arkham Knight. But sadly, I do not have a next gen console. And saving for one is taking for-freaking-ever. So rather than make you guys wait until I can buy a console, play the game, and write the story, I've decided to ignore Arkham Knight's story line. Meaning this fic will go ahead, and I will be sad because I can't play the new game.
Hope you all enjoy!