The next few hours were something of a blur for Edward. Between being questioned by Bullock and Gordon for defying explicit instructions to not interfere, yelled at by Sharp for causing a ruckus at his event and being toasted by the media for his role in apprehending Horner (although he freely admitted to enjoying that part), it was well into late afternoon by the time he'd gotten a moment to himself. Horner had long since been carried off by GCPD, with Joe Bryant accompanying him, no doubt out of some sense of camaraderie. The rest of the crowd had long since dispersed, apart from a few members of Bryant's group hanging about the actual physical memorial. Edward ignored them, as he scanned the crowd for one particular person.
It only took him a moment to spot her, directly in front of the large, black granite slab that had been commissioned to serve as tribute to the people who'd died at Arkham. As Edward drew closer, he could make out names carved into the slab, no doubt the names of the various guards and patients lost. As far as these things went, Edward supposed it sufficed, even if it was a little bland for his tastes. But then again, even he could acknowledge that the designers and city officials wouldn't care to take a former super villain's tastes in account.
He paused about three feet from the face of the memorial, making sure to give the woman her space. His recent experience in dealing with her had taught him that much.
"I'm a bit surprised you're still here," he addressed her. "Most attempted murder victims I've met usually are home or in the hospital at this point."
Dr. Young didn't turn to face him, instead idly tracing an engraved name with her finger. "What do you want, Nigma?"
"I want lots of things, Dr. Young, most of which I'm not likely to get. But right now, I'd settle for an explanation."
"An explanation for what?"
"Why did you come here today? Didn't Sharp or Gordon warn you about Horner?"
"They did," she answered in a monotonous tone.
"And yet you came here anyway."
"It's where I needed to be."
"Funny. You don't strike me as the sentimental type. Or the type to needlessly risk your life."
Dr. Young clenched her fists tightly. "I've answered your question. Go away, Nigma."
"You were quick to hand yourself over to Horner too."
"He had a gun to your head. Should I have let him kill you?"
"Why would you care if he did? Aren't I just the same malignant narcissist you treated at Arkham years ago, as you so eloquently put it? I think saving my life was just an excuse for you."
"An excuse for what?"
"An excuse to die."
A moment of silence passed between them. Dr. Young still had not turned to look at Edward, a fact which was beginning to irritate him. "Am I wrong?" he asked her.
Dr. Young turned to face him, finally. Her eyes had filled with tears, which were streaming down her cheeks. She looked like the most miserable creature Edward had ever seen. It was an uncomfortable reminder of her humanity.
"Joan warned me when I started at Arkham. She warned me what could happen if I let my guard down for even a moment around the inmates, that I could be the next Harley Quinn if I wasn't careful." She looked down at her feet. "I laughed her off. I wasn't Quinzell. I took my work seriously. I didn't allow for one distraction, I didn't even go home for my father's funeral just to make sure that the formula was perfect. I was so sure it would be the answer to curing the rogues, that I'd finally succeed where so many other people failed."
"And yet, the Joker used you too."
Dr. Young nodded. "Aaron and Batman managed to save me, but I wish they didn't. I woke up in the hospital the next day and I found out what happened. What I'd caused. Everything I'd ever worked for was gone, and over a hundred people were dead because I was too arrogant and self-involved to even think through what I was doing." Her voice hitched and a fresh wave of tears came.
Edward shuffled a bit, uncomfortable by the display. Dealing with living victims was by far his least favorite part of the job. Human emotions were the worst kind of riddles. "Those people who died at Arkham won't come back if you die. You can't do anything about that."
Dr. Young glared at him, anger breaking through the guilt and self-loathing. "I don't expect someone like you to understand, Nigma."
That put Edward out. He felt sympathy for her perhaps, but that didn't mean he had to let her use him as her punching bag. "You're right," he said acerbically. "I wouldn't understand what it's like to lose everything and have to build myself back up from scratch. Not at all."
This seemed to hit home for Dr. Young and she dropped her gaze to her feet again.
"You're just taking the easy way out Dr," Edward continued. "I thought you were smarter than that." He shook his head as he considered her. As enigmatic as she may be to the rest of the world, he could figure her out all too easily. "Besides," he said after a pause. "Death is just a means to an end for you. That's not what you really want."
"And what do I really want, Nigma?"
Edward paused for a moment, considering his words. Then the perfect riddle for the situation occurred to him.
"Riddle me this," he began.
Dr. Young groaned. "Seriously?"
"Indulge me," he said, holding up a hand. He took a breath before continuing. "Riddle me this: slayer of regrets, old and new, sought by many, found by few. What am I?"
It took only a moment for Dr. Young to work it out. "Redemption," she breathed out. "How do I find it after all I've done?"
Edward shrugged. "I only ask the riddles, Dr. Young," he said. "You'll have to solve that for yourself." He tipped his hat forward to her. "Well, adieu."
"Where are you going?"
"I have a few loose ends I need to see to." he turned to leave, but not before giving her one last look. He probably wouldn't see her again after this. Pity. "Take care, Dr. Young."
As he walked away, he didn't hear Dr. Young whisper after him.
"You too, Edward."
As Edward walked towards the park exit, he heard Sharp calling out to him.
"Edward! Wait a moment!"
Edward stopped in his tracks and let the rotund mayoral candidate catch up to him.
"Edward," Sharp began, after pausing to catch his breath. "I know we didn't see eye to eye on this case. But I really do appreciate the work you did for me." He then held his hand out, almost insistently. "I hope you'll consider working together in the future."
Edward took one look at Sharp's preoffered hand and lowered it with his own. "Well thank you, Warden. And I greatly appreciate your witholding of information from me, treating me as if I was a prop at best and a pest at worst and in general for reminding me why I despise politicians. Tracy will send you my final bill. Farewell Sharp. If you ever need detective services again, go bother the GCPD."
Sharp said nothing in response, but his face slowly reddened as Edward spoke. When Edward finished, he turned and marched off in a huff. Edward barely suppressed a smirk as he saw the warden storm off towards his entourage. Two down. One to go.
Later that night, Edward was typing away at his computer, finishing the case notes. He'd already sent a Tracy off for the night. She was a nice girl, really, but she wasn't one for this sort of work.
CASE CONCLUSION: MY INVESTIGATION INTO THE LETTERS AND SUBSEQUENT MURDER OF DR. STEPHEN KELLERMAN REVEALED THAT DENNIS BAXTER, HEAD OF SECURITY FOR THE SHARP MAYORAL CAMPAIGN WORKED IN CONCERT WITH PATRICK HORNER TO LEAVE THE LETTERS. HORNER MURDERED BAXTER SOON AFTER KELLERMAN TO COVER HIS TRACKS. HORNER APPREHENDED AT MEMORIAL CEREMONY MONDAY MAY 30, 2006.
Edward finished typing. He'd solved the actual case, sure, but there was one piece of the puzzle he still needed to crack and he didn't want this on the record. He pulled out a disposable cell phone from his desk drawer and dialed a number he'd uncovered earlier in the evening. The number dialed rang twice before it was answered.
"This is Dr. Hugo Strange."
Edward smirked. "Good evening, Dr. Strange."
There was a brief pause before the deep, accented voice answered. "Mr. Nigma. I saw you on the news earlier tonight. You apprehended Horner. Well done."
Edward chuckled a bit. "Well, that's what Sharp hired me for. Or should I say, that's what you hired me for."
There was another pause on the line. "I see that your time in that coma hasn't dulled your intellect. Or tamed that ego."
"Of course not. But you already knew that. That's why you told Sharp to hold back on the details of the case. You wanted to see if I'd fill in the gaps on my own. That's also why you destroyed the footage of Baxter leaving the letters on the first night. You didn't want to make things too easy on me."
"And if you hadn't? Do you think I was willing to risk the lives of the Arkham staff because of my faith in your abilities?"
"Maybe not," Edward admitted. "But considering how you've been pushing out security guards, maybe you wouldn't have shed a tear if your medical staff began leaving."
"That's a dangerous accusation to make, Mr. Nigma. Especially since you have no evidence."
"Well, that's not exactly a denial, Dr. Strange."
Dr. Strange chuckled then. A deep, sinister laugh that carried even through the phone line.
"And yet," Dr. Strange continued. "You're calling me. Can there be something the great Edward Nigma hasn't figured out?"
Edward bit his tongue. He was beginning to lose control of the situation. "I don't know if you remember Dr. Strange, but there's nothing I can't figure out."
"I remember, Mr. Nigma. The real question is, do you?"
Edward froze. When he didn't respond, Strange continued.
"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? I can't imagine what it like for you when you woke up. Your mind, your greatest asset, the thing you've spent the last 25 years honing, perfecting, betrayed you in the end. What must it have been like I wonder, to be a complete blank slate?"
"I don't need your pity Strange," Edward seethed. "And I'm done with played with. Why did you hire me?"
Dr. Strange laughed again. "I wanted to see what kind of a man you are, Mr. Nigma. And you performed about up to my expectations. Good night Mr. Nigma. I'm sure I'll see you soon." Dr. Strange hung up.
For a few moments, Edward sat in his desk chair, unable to comprehend that he'd actually been bested by Dr. Strange. "For now," he murmured. "For now, good doctor." With a renewed sense of purpose, he began typing at his keyboard. NEW FILE: DR. HUGO STRANGE. CURRENT HEAD OF RESEARCH AND WARDEN IN ALL BUT NAME AT ARKHAM ASYLUM. TOP PRIORITY. CONFIDENTIAL.
As he typed, his attention turned to Dr. Young's journal, still resting on his desk where he'd left it two days earlier. There was that itch again. Who is Edward Nigma? Who was Edward Nigma? Maybe, maybe-
"No," he said. "Focus Edward. It can wait."
He needed a new case.