Edward's heart jumped in his chest when he saw the two guards at his door. He looked back down to the book of crossword puzzles in his hands and began to absently scribble on the margins. Even with the glass separating the three men, he could still feel the hard glare of four eyes on him.

"Nygma," one of them said. He was a tall Asian man, built hard and tall, all thick muscles and sharp edges. Edward hadn't seen him before; he was probably one of the new guys. There were always new guys at Arkham. Sometimes it seemed like the place couldn't get replacements fast enough.

"Nygma," the guy repeated.

Edward looked up. "Yes?"

"We need you."

"Well I need you too." Edward pursed his lips into a smile, looking from the tall guard to the man next to him. Smaller, thinner, and white, with a head full of bright red hair and light green eyes. He had his hand at his side, near his gun, yet his fingers never seemed to quite be reaching it.

Their gazes only tightened.

"Look," the big one said. "They told me that you like to play-"

"What can you find anywhere and everywhere, something that you need, between the poor and the rich?"

"We don't have time for this," the redhead spoke, his voice surprisingly gruff.

"Do you two need another hint?"

Edward could no longer tell which of the two was glaring harder.

Keep at it, he thought.

He should have known this wouldn't turn out well, not with the way everyone was trying to tighten security. For once it seemed like the place was actually trying to keep its inmates in, not let what happened with The Joker happened again.

But that would take a squealer, Edward thought. It's not as if we advertised our plan. He looked back down his crossword puzzle. Just keep like this, act like yourself; don't let them suspect anything else.

He picked up his pencil and began to fill in a horizontal column, an eight letter word referring to a feeling of unease.

"Hey, we need you out here. Doctor's orders!"

Edward looked back up. "You still haven't answered my question."

The buff one shook his head. "They told me this guy was a weirdo, but they didn't say that he was this bad."

"Look," the other said. "The doctor and some other lady want to see you, a visitor I think."

Edward's eyes widened. "A visitor?" He couldn't stop the words from leaving his lips.

"Yeah," one said. "Some lady came in today and wanted to see you, had some pictures with her of a little girl."

Edward stood up, leaving his crossword puzzle behind. The pencil was dropped to the floor and forgotten. He walked up to the door and waited for the guards to unlock it. For once, he hardly noticed their hard gazes or got angry when one bumped into him. The oafs didn't matter for once.

"What was it?" one of them, the redhead, asked.

"Huh?" Edward replied.

"The answer to that riddle you said earlier."

Edward had to keep himself from snorting; he was definitely a new guy too. "Now where would the fun be if I simply told you the answer?"

From what it looked like, Arkham had recently been cleaned. The floors were so shiny that Edward could see his reflection, which looked a bit too orange for his taste, and the place smelled even heavier of bleach and ammonia than usual. His shoes squeaked as he walked, and a few prisoners watched him as he walked past.

The visiting room was small, with just enough space for the doctor, Edward, Jillian, and a small table and chairs. The guards stood near the door, and Edward couldn't help but wish that they would step out. Already, the room felt near to bursting.

"Jillian," Edward said. "Hello."

She sat in a dark brown chair. Her jacket was bright red, a sharp and colorful contrast to the greys, whites, and browns of the room. Her hair was pulled back in a tight frown, her face looking thinner and tighter than when he had last seen her.

"Edward," she replied curtly. Her hands were folded together in her lap, resting over a manilla folder.

"Edward," Dr. Martin spoke, looking up to him. "Please take a seat. Your ex-wife-"

"We never married," Jillian interrupted.

"Excuse me, my mistake," she replied. She reached a hand up and pushed her glasses further up her nose. "Well, your visitor would like to speak with you. From what she explained to me earlier, it is quite serious."

Edward's heart beat against his chest.

Maybe there had been a squealer. Why Jillian would be there because of it he couldn't understand, but judging by how heavy her frown was, the look in her eyes...

No, he told himself. No one in the group would squeal, not if it would just mean that they would stay trapped in this hell hole even longer.

Edward sat down. The chair was hard and stiff, like just about every other piece of furniture in the building.

"What is it?" Jillian asked. "What made you tell her?"

Edward blinked for a few moments. Finally, once he had made himself sit up straighter and finally meet her in the eyes, he spoke again. "What do you mean?" He looked over to Doctor Martin, who merely raised an eyebrow of her own.

"Has he seen the photos?" she asked.

Jillian opened the manilla folder and pulled out a few photos before handing them over. They were crude, not on quality, glossy photo paper but printed straight from a computer. Judging by the color quality, the printer had probably been low on ink. Still, the color scheme was impossible to not recognize.

Green and purple, he thought.

They seemed to fit Emily as well they did him.

The suit was rather crude and looked to be a bit big on her. She was grinning from ear to ear at the camera, standing next to a few other girls who were also dressed up and holding orange plastic pumpkin buckets.

"Why did you tell her?" Jillian asked. "What did you do to her that made her think that, that this thing th,at you do is acceptable?"

Edward held the photo up. Yes, judging by the suit it had literally been painted; there were dark patches.

"I still don't understand," he replied.

"Three days ago her teacher emailed me about this, said that something happened at their Halloween party." Jillian's face tightened. She hadn't spoken like this to him in a long time, not since they had first turned rocky. "There were some boys there that had come there dressed up as Batman."

Edward's eyebrows lowered. "And I should know this why?"

The dark knight was a big enough problem already. Why did he have to hear about children dressing up as him?

"Perhaps I should explain," Doctor Martin said, turning towards him. "Your daughter came to school dressed up as you, which her mother was completely unaware of, and during the Halloween party had a fight with some of the boys."

"Whose nose got broken?" a guard suddenly asked.

Doctor Martin's eyes were as sharp as knives. "No one's nose was broken thankfully, though this playground scuffle did cause a few hurt feelings and got a teacher very concerned."

"I think it was a bit more than concerned," Jillian said. "If she were concerned than her phone call would have been only five to ten minutes rather than nearly an hour long." She sighed. "Emily went around asking the boys riddles, acting just like you. The boys got frustrated, nearly started throwing fists. Though she never physically struck, her teacher did mention that she nearly did hit them with a cane." She pulled another picture from her folder and reached across the table, handing it to him.

Edward held it up and looked it over. Yes, he would recognize that cane anywhere. It certainly wasn't nearly as fancy, a crude version of his, made of wood rather than metal and rather than being a gleaming gold, it was a dull painted yellow.

"She isn't supposed to act like you. I made sure she didn't know why you were here or why she was with me. When the police had me speak to you over the phone shortly after your arrest, we both made an agreement not to tell her. Don't you remember?" She wrinkled her nose.

Edward nodded.

"So I have this to ask: Why did you tell her?" Jillian asked, speaking before he could get a word in.

"I never did." In the few phone calls that he'd had with her, the last thing that he'd spoken about was why he had gotten inside.

"You never did?" Her voice rose. "Then what would possess her to dress up as you? When she said she needed green paint for her Halloween costume, I thought that the kid was dressing up as a witch or a monster, not-" She stopped suddenly in mid sentence. "Well, you and I both know what she went as instead."

"I never did tell her." Edward looked her directly in the eyes. "I just now know of this."

Jillian held the entire manilla folder out to him. "Just look inside of this; it'll give you all the answers."

Edward opened it and began to look over everything inside. Newspaper clipping after newspaper clipping was inside, some with only small reference to him and what had gotten him inside Arkham, while others looked to be stuff from the front page. Parts were underlines or messily highlighted.

"A little kid is obsessed with you," she said.

Edward's gaze tightened on the pictures below him. "That little kid you speak of is my daughter."

"Well she's my daughter too!"

Edward saw red. The papers fell to the floor, completely forgotten as he stood up and shot daggers. "Is that why you gave her up years ago and gave me sole custody without so much as a fight? You didn't seem to mind signing the forms to have her sent away with me, and the only thing that showed you even thought about her were you sending over child support money." He gritted his teeth. Had he not been caught then he doubted that she even would have thought about her at all. A few months with her and she thought that she was the kid's doting mother, the kind that had been looking out for her since birth. "You walked out of the hospital; I saw you. It was just like you had agreed with me. I did everything you wanted; you said you didn't want her, didn't want me, that you wanted a different life."

"Edward-"

"She's told me about your other kids, your new husband, that new life of yours. How's it going? Because from what Emily's told me, she doesn't seem to fit quite into that little life of yours that you wanted so badly. Now you get a reminder of who her father really is, why she doesn't fit into that perfect little life of yours, and you blame me." He clenched his fists, stepping closer to her. His knees bumped against the table. "She's a smart girl; she's my girl. If she wanted to know something then she'd find it out, and she clearly did."

There was silence.

"I did hand her over and we did agree on that." Jillian's eyes lowered. "And yes, I did have to adjust with her living with me, a woman that for years she had never met. I just thought..." She sighed.

This was always how it went with relationships. Things were great for a while, couldn't seem to get any better, and then everything just went downhill. Though his relationship with Jillian hadn't been the worst, not by any means (it had certainly been good enough that she hadn't objected to giving him Emily), it still had went down. Now there the two were, both on shaking ground. Sidney, Greg, Kristen, Tyler, Jillian… So many names, so many faces, all bits and pieces of people he had once thought that he'd known so well, puzzles that he thought he had solved.

"I suppose that I came off a bit accusatory." She sighed. "That was my fault. It's just that…"

"You're concerned," Doctor Martin said. "I am sure that anyone would be." Her eyes locked on Edward's. "I've spoken with Edward often and I can assure you that he thinks of his daughter every day. He shows a great devotion and care whenever he speaks of her."

Edward opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. He looked back down to the photos.

"She thinks that you're fantastic," Jillian finally said. "When I went to pick her up that day at school, I could tell that. She wouldn't hit someone with a cane over just anybody."

Doctor Martin chuckled, the sound filling the room. Edward looked over to her; yes, she was truly laughing, a smile spread across her thick, full lips. "Edward, I believe that you should take that as a compliment."

"I apologize again," Jillian had said. The words rang over and over again in Edward's mind like a broken record. "Coming here seems like such a waste now, like I got so worked up over something that had such a simple explanation." Every part of her had looked tense then, as if she had wanted to get as far away from the place as possible. He couldn't blame her. "I suppose it's understandable, after all those years of you doing this alone. I suppose that it didn't seem like I cared."

It had taken Edward a while to reply then. Humans were so strange sometimes; most of the replies he had wanted to make could have been frowned on in some way.

"You did what you needed," he had replied. "To get what you wanted." In a way, he couldn't blame her for it. The two had worked together in the past to get what they both had wanted out of an unexpected experience, and he supposed that they could do it again.

Yet they had left after that in silence, with a tension so thick that Doctor Martin, a professional, could cut. She had tried to offer some advice before, after her laughing fit, but there was nothing that she (or likely anyone else) could have done after that.

He played and replayed the scene again and again. She had left the pictures with him, which were scattered on the floor of his cell.

For now, he couldn't look at them. He looked to his ceiling, as if it would somehow have the answers for him hidden between its cracks or behind its fluorescent light.

There were other things to think about. The plan that was slowly unfolding, the world that awaited him outside of Arkham's tight walls. There was an entire world waiting for him outside.

Jillian would probably hated him for what he had done out there. Maybe she already did.

Edward shook his head.

You're looking too deeply into this, he thought. There had been no sign that she hated him, even she did have some… Adjustments to make because of him.

And if she truly already didn't, then she surely would once he got outside in a few days.

Then again, she just might be relieved.

It was just so hard to tell with most others.

Not everyone had joined in the group with Edward and the others, but they had at least heard the news. Poison Ivy waved to Edward as a vine raised towards the sky and he waved back.

There was a certain honor among thieves at Arkham, an unspoken companionship that combined them all together. Edward looked over his shoulder to the building behind him; it truly was a shame that there were still some inside. They deserved better than that hell.

Ahead of him, Jonathan motioned towards him.

"Could you run any faster?" he asked.

Edward rolled his eyes. They had worked together before. He knew that Edward wasn't the running type.

Still, his brains alone weren't enough to get him out of Arkham. Edward picked up his pace. He could enjoy the feeling of being outside, of being free, later, once Arkham wasn't close enough to still see from the corner of his eye.

The safe house was on the edge of Gotham, a shabby place that looked as if it would have been completely forgotten were it not attended by its super villain guests. Edward collapsed into his mattress. The clothes he wore were old, a far cry from his suit. Who would have to pick those up later.

He would have a lot of things to do later. The others in the room seemed just as tired as him.

The group had turned out to be smaller than Edward had originally thought, just him and Jonathan and Jervis. He had thought that he had seen Harley running out earlier, but she had likely either been running after Ivy or heading to wherever she thought her "Mister J" had gone.

Edward had thought that he had heard that Two-Face was coming along with them. Maybe a flip of his coin had changed that.

Edward closed his eyes. The others had headed off to sleep as well, Jonathan included, who usually could stay up hours on end without even coffee to help him.

Around him, wood creaked and water dripped. It had been a factory once; Gotham held lots of old factories and forgotten businesses, little pieces of dreams long lost. Eventually, even those sounds faded away.

Jonathan had been pacing for hours, while Jervis stared off at the wall and Edward looked through his photos. There were plans, countless ones, and it seemed none of them could figure out which ones to execute.

Jonathan had originally suggested laying low, at least for a little while they contacted henchmen for supplies. It seemed their partnership wasn't as short lived as Edward had originally thought.

Still, he wanted to get to his own hide out as quickly as he could. He had things to do, people to see.

One in particular.

It was his most ridiculous plan of all, but the only one worth executing. Diamonds and jewels and money could be stolen at any time, at least once Edward had the right supplies, some help, and a few riddles to throw around. Someone had to keep the dark knight and the jewelry or museum owner busy.

If one of his henchmen could just bring a vehicle…

Edward looked around him. The place was awful now that he could see it in daylight, an old and forgotten place that only seemed to make the tired men inside look smaller. It was hardly a place that he wanted to bring Emily to.

He would have to at least get to his hideout first before he did anything.

Edward bit his lip. He reached out and grabbed a picture, the one that had bothered Jillian and Emily's teacher so much. He looked past the other girls to the one in the center, the one in the painted green suit.

At least she seemed to want to see him to.

There had been fists against his face; it had happened before and back then it had seemed inevitable to happen again. That was just how things had been. A broken nose and a black eye had been a daily part of his life.

He had never blamed his mother for leaving that, just running out one night when her husband had been especially violent and never returning. Still, he couldn't help but wish that she had at least taken his hand and pulled him along with her. Then he wouldn't have been facing his father then, all red faced and wide eyed. His fist was raised and he looked ready to strike at any moment.

Edward stepped back. There was no point in punching him back; he couldn't defend himself with his fists to save his life. Still, he had a brain, and that was something he had doubted many times that his father had. It was time that Edward started using his.

Edward shook his head. He needed to stop getting into deep conversation with Jonathan. Whenever he did he just made Edward think of things that were best not looking back on.

"Just stop," he said. "I don't want to think of him, not now."

"You were the one who brought up fatherhood." Jonathan replied.

It was a good thing that he had gotten his license revoked because Jonathan was a piss poor therapist, even if he could talk the talk.

"Look, I don't want to talk about how I feel."

"But you were doing just that talking about Emily."

"That's different." He looked to the ground. They were all going to start fighting sometime soon. That was the most probable thing anyway. They were just cooped up, still nervous about what the future held and yet high off of the rush of getting out of Arkham. Jervis had talked about a girl he had loved once, Alice or Allison or something, and had gone through the same therapist talk with Jonathan as well. Eventually, Jonathan was going to say something wrong, give some bad advice, and fists would fly. That was just how problems were solved between men like them.

It was too bad that Edward still wasn't the best with his fists. Now if he had his cane…

He sighed. "Jonathan, you know that my father and I are nothing alike. You've seen how Emily and I interact."

"I know," he replied. "Still, I can't help but wonder if the only reason that you had her was to try to make up for what happened, to prove yourself better."

"Can you quit with your Freud bullshit?" Edward closed his eyes. He really needed to get to his hideout.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow; Edward was beginning to like the scarecrow mask more and more the longer that Jonathan didn't have it on.

Jonathan held his hands together. "I suppose our session can end now. There are some things that you just don't feel like discussing now. Perhaps you'll open up to me another time."

Edward snorted. "I don't know why you even play that therapy game. What makes you want to listen to people whine all the time anyway?"

"What makes you want to ask them so many riddles?" He grinned. "I like to see how people think, take a step into their shoes. Though knowing their fears are wonderful, it's also fun just to see what goes on in their head, to get a chance to look into what they keep hidden inside their minds. It can actually be rather fun; perhaps you should consider trying it sometime, Eddie."

Oh yes, he really needed his cane.

Nearly everything was in order, back to the way that it should have been. It had taken a few weeks longer than expected, but that wasn't his fault. Now Edward just needed to take control again, to get one last thing fixed before everything would be the way that it was supposed to.

The school was larger than he had expected, and a whole swarm of kids left the building. Most seemed to blend in with one another, becoming a blur of chattering faces.

Edward turned his hat down lower over his face. Around him, other parents swarmed as they looked for their children. Words hung in the air, half finished sentences and shouts. People bumped past him, everyone in a rush like stampeding cattle or fish in a small too bowl.

He could do this. He had to.

He walked towards the buses, his eyes moving past everyone he saw. If he could just find her…

There were a few glimpses of red hair, but none were her, at least not yet. She had to be there somewhere; things had to work out for him.

He tightened his fists.

It's fine, he reminded himself. His heart beat faster against his chest. I just have to find her, that's all.

And he would, there was no question about it.

Focus, he reminded himself.

His eyes wandered the group of children once more. There was a pattern to this, he'd just have to find it. Edward continued looking, surveying the passing children as best he could.

The youngest children stood near the left side of the front doors, near their teachers. Wading past the group of fourth and fifth graders, he headed towards there.

He was halfway there when he finally noticed her. She stood beside two other girls, a thin one who looked a bit tall for her age, and a black girl with a head of curly hair. All three were dressed in bright neon colors and clutching backpacks.

"Emily!" he called, struggling to get his voice to rise over the crowd of children and parents. This was louder than Arkham whenever all the inmates got sent out to the courtyard for their weekly outdoor exercise. "Emily!"

She looked up the second time. For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes searching the crowd. Edward pushed his hat up.

For a moment she stood still, eyes wide and hand clutching her backpack. One of the girls asked her something but she didn't reply.

Then she was moving, running as fast as her small legs could carry her. The two met in the middle, her arms wrapping around him. She stood barely above his waist. Though she was still small, it was still easy to see their resemblance. She shot him a toothy grin.

"Daddy?" she asked.

He grinned. "The one and only."

He expected her to speak up again, to ask another question. Instead, she just smiled and grabbed his hand.

"So how was your day?" Edward asked as the two headed towards his car. The two melted easily into the crowd of children and parents.

"I got to read out loud to my class," she said, "and feed Mrs. Ramirez's hamster."

"It didn't try to bite your finger off, did you?"

Emily chuckled. "No, Speedy is a nice hamster. He runs on his wheel all day and loves little carrot pieces. I also played kickball with Natia and Jamie."

The two continued on towards the car, Emily recounting her day. Edward could only picture part of it in his mind, the other half the parts that he couldn't see. He doubted that he would be going to parent-teacher conventions any time soon, at least not until he was (officially) cleared from Arkham, and he wasn't about to go back to get that done. Still, information was powerful.

Information was enough.

"How many teeth have you lost?"

"Four!" Emily grinned. "One is coming back in."

"Four? Soon the dentist won't have anything to clean."

"I have a loose one!" She held a finger up to a tooth and began to wiggle it.

Edward grinned. "Your teeth just seem to be falling out of you."

The grey car he was using was old and worn from past accidents that he could only imagine. If anyone asked, it was a rental. The inside wasn't dirty, nothing covering the seats or carpeted floor, but it wasn't the newest either. Signs of age showed on it.

You can get better later, he reminded himself. What's Emily to care?

The two sat down. Edward locked the doors and started the car. It was only then had he looked over to the back seat, to where Emily sat on the humped seat in the middle. Her smile had faded.

"Daddy, where have you been?" Before he could begin to try and answer, she spoke again. "Why does everyone at school say that the place you went is for bad guys? Why do all the newspaper say that you're a bad guy?"

He had known this moment would come sooner or later. It was inevitable, especially for someone in his kind of lifestyle. Still, he hadn't expected to have to explain himself in the crowded parking lot of Emily's school in a car so junky that he doubted that anyone had bothered to report it as stolen.

"Emily, do you think that I'm a bad guy? Do you believe those newspapers?"

There was silence for a moment.

"No," she finally said.

"That's the thing, Emily," Edward said, looking back to her for a moment. He turned his head around and sighed. "Sometimes people like to paint others as bad just to make themselves look good."

"So the newspaper people are bad people?"

"Well, I suppose." Considering the quality of some recent Gotham Gazette articles it was good as true. He had known that the city was going to hell, but it was a shame that all the quality, nuanced journalists had all gone with it.

"Then why did you go to that place?"

"I went to Ar-" He stopped himself. "I went to that place because people wanted to get rid of me. Believe it or not, not everyone likes me."

"Why?"

He bit his lip. "When I say this, I need you to understand that I am serious. Emily, some people aren't as smart as me, as us. They don't see things our way so they get scared." He paused for a moment, thinking back. "You mentioned in a phone call a while before that some kids at school made fun of you for getting a bunch of math problems correct, yes?"

"Yes." Her voice turned low.

"Well, the same thing has happened to me, but over different things. Things that I got right, that I understood, but that others couldn't." He turned near a light and began to slow as it turned yellow. "But you understand, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The silence returned.

"I have a riddle for you."

From the corner of his eyes, Emily grinned. "What?"

"One that will really stump you." He smirked. "Think you can figure it out?"

"Yes, yes!"

"I believe you. Still, it's a little hard."

"Tell me!" She began to jiggle in her seat. "Tell me!"

"Okay," he said, "if you insist. You can find me just about anywhere, but it depends on whether or not you want to see me. When you see me, you see a person, but they're not always there. What am I?"

Emily wrinkled her eyebrows.

"You don't need to figure it out now. Take your time and think it over." Right then, he had all the time in the world to wait for an answer.