I don't own the Riddler or any other Batman characters.
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Angie adapted to a life of crime fairly quickly and soon became used to robbing banks and running from the law. She didn't enjoy it exactly, but she didn't think it was terrible. The Angie that didn't want to break the law was gone; she'd disappeared after that first time with Edward. Strangely enough, she didn't miss the old Angie. The old Angie was selfish, self absorbed, shallow, and snobbish. Angie was still a bit shallow, though, but she didn't look down on anyone anymore and she wasn't really all that selfish.
She still remembered her biggest act of selfishness; when she and Becca had come to Gotham all those months ago she'd panicked when they'd been thrown into Arkham, and when they escaped she was willing to do anything to stay out of the asylum; she'd abandoned her best friend because she didn't want to go back to the asylum.
These thoughts came to Angie while lying beside Edward one rainy night. The rain had reminded her of Becca and how much the gothic girl hated rainstorms. Angie sat up bed and pulled the sheets around her small body.
"I screwed up," she whined.
"No, you screwed me," Edward teased her while sitting up and wrapping his arms around her. "Several times, in fact."
"No, don't you see I've made a terrible mistake!"
"Screwing me was a mistake?"
She turned in his arms so she could swat his shoulder. "I'm being serious, Eddie! God, I'm such an idiot!"
"You're not an idiot," he scolded.
Angie sighed and leaned back against his chest. "Yes I am. I abandoned my best friend and left her to rot in an asylum. I'm a terrible person," she whined.
"You're not a terrible person, you were scared and confused and so you made the wrong choice."
Angie shook her head. "I'm not confused anymore. I know what I have to do, but . . ." she bit her lower lip and brushed a stray lock of short blonde hair out of her face.
"But what?"
Angie laughed softly. "Well, I've known Becca for a long, long time and I know that she'd stubborn and can hold a grudge for a long time; if you get on her bad side you're screwed." She tilted her head back and Edward saw the worried and slightly scared look written across her pale face. "Right now, I'm on her bad side and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me for what I've done." She closed her eyes and cried silently as the rain pounded against the roof.
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A loud clap of thunder shattered the silence and Becca woke with a terrified expression. A flash of lightning lit the room and another loud clap of thunder made her flinch. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled up into a ball, wishing she could fall asleep again.
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Jonathan felt the mattress shift and he cracked an eye open. He saw Becca curled into a ball on the edge of the bed with her eyes squeezed shut. Jonathan's eyes widened when he saw that she was crying. There was a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder and her eyes squeezed even tighter together while fresh tears ran down her face. Her body was trembling and she looked positively terrified.
Becca didn't just have a fear of spiders; she had a fear of storms too.
The scientist part of Jonathan's brain—which was also the crazy part—kicked into gear and he began reading her body language and reactions to the storm more closely. His eyes saw every inch of her shaking form and his ears caught every second of her panicked breathing. A small part of his brain, which had an annoyingly nasally voice, was scolding him for studying her and it was telling him to stop treating his Rebecca like a common test subject.
Wait, what?
His Rebecca? Where did that come from? Jonathan was close to Becca and they were definitely more than friends, but she wasn't his.
Yes she is that small annoying voice in his head hissed. And if anyone ever hurts her I'll murder them. He blocked the voice out as best he could and argued that it wasn't any of his business if someone hurt her, but he felt a prick of anger when he thought about her being harmed. Jonathan mentally cursed himself. He was turning into a possessive lovesick idiot and it was pathetic! He only grew more annoyed as he realized that was exactly what he was; a hopeless, pathetic, lovesick idiot. Jonathan mentally cursed himself--again-- and rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
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A/N: (bangs head against keyboard) I hate writer's block.