Chapter 5: Quietus
"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." - Tom Stoppard
"Did you know?" Jonathan asked, lips pursing as he gently blew on the surface of his tea, watching the ripples.
"Know what?" Jeremiah asked as he leaned back in his seat, watching his guest, realizing how few of the things he remembered of Jonathan had truly changed despite the years between them. He still vaguely reminded Jeremiah of a lost little boy, searching for something far beyond him.
"About Edward." Satisfied with the temperature of his tea, he took a sip, finally raising blue eyes to his ex lover's, resisting the urge to squirm under the piercing gaze. He hated when jeremiah studied him...it made his skin crawl.
"Your toy? Of course," Jeremiah said dismissively, gathering papers from his desk. "You didn't exactly keep it a secret that you had another lover, Jonathan and Edward was far from subtle. He paused in filling an envelope with the forms and paperwork, making a disgusted face. "Though I had wished you had found someone more...worthy of you if you were going to force me to share."
Jonathan blinked at that, the insatiably human side of him wondering why Jeremiah had never mentioned it...never even reacted to it, before the more logically rational side of his brain smothered the idea as something not worth debating. For one thing, it was well over a decade before, and for another, Jeremiah had the same cold, rational mind he did. Edward meant nothing, so it wasn't worth bothering with.
"Sorry he didn't meet your standards," Jonathan said finally, a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Jonathan, Edward meets no one's standards. I honestly have no inkling of how he got someone to hang around long enough to conceive a child." With that, Jeremiah held out the folder, giving it the slightest wiggle. "For you."
"Charm and a roll of duct tape, I imagine." Jonathan accepted the folder, setting his teacup down as he curiously opened it, blinking slowly, drinking in the words and then promptly re-reading to see if what he was seeing what what it truly said.
He raised his eyes back up to Jeremiah, shock clearly written across his face. "Jer...this is an offer to work here. As Head of Inmate Treatment."
"I am aware of what the papers state, Jonathan," Jeremiah said, sipping his own tea. "I find myself in need of a capable doctor...well, several actually since most of my staff are utter idiots, but as I need to fill the role of head before I can be bothered with any other positions, I decided to start there. You are the best in Gotham City, you have experience, well educated and I do not have to worry much for your safety with some of our more...violent patients."
"Jer...I can't...legally I am not ab…"
"And when has 'legality' ever mattered to what happens here at Arkham?" Jeremiah asked dryly.
"They're going to flip…" Jonathan wasn't quite sure who he was referring to with 'they', but the list of candidates was long..and both started and ended with Bruce.
"Does that bother you?"
"Not really," Jonathan said, pulling a pen from his breast pocket and signing his name to the contract, a shiver running down his spine.
Deep inside him, Scarecrow's fangs flashed, a laugh spilling from him.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" Bruce asked, tossing a folder of papers at Jonathan, rage radiating off of the larger man like a near visible cloud.
"I think I need to find a better lock box," Jonathan snapped, stuffing the Arkham employment paperwork into the folder again and tossing it onto the bed next to him.
"You know the rules, Jonathan, you can't go back there! You can't even be within a hundred miles of the Asylum!"
"Your rules, not the law nor Arkham's rules."
"I trusted you to follow them!"
"And I trusted you to not go through my things!" Jonathan shouted, standing, now getting just as angry as Bruce seemed to be. "Geeze, Bruce, is it any wonder I want to work somewhere where I can be alone, where I don't have to have everyone watching my every god damn move like I'm a fucking bomb with no timer?! Where Batman isn't going through my underwear drawer?! Jeremiah trust me not to lose control, so why can't you?"
"Do not bring him into this!"
"Why? Because you're jealous? Because it proves the big, bad Bruce Wayne is human and has feelings?!"
"This has nothing to do with that, Jonathan, but everything to do with the fact that you're sliding back...again!"
"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you see Scarecrow anywhere here? Do you have any reason to believe I haven't been taking my medications?!"
"You are Scarecrow, Crane!" Bruce snapped, and Jonathan's body jerked as if Bruce had struck him. "You. Are. Him! Medication has nothing to do with it except to allow you the pleasant fantasy that there is more than just you locked in that crazy little head of yours! But guess what, It's. Just. You. No demons, no 'other', nothing more than you!"
"What the fuck would you know, Bruce? You're nothing more than a high school dropout who couldn't understand a basic chemistry let alone figure out which part of a psychology journal was right side up!" Jonathan knew the insult was weak, but fighting verbally wasn't exactly his strong suit...then again, until a few years ago, neither had been fighting physically. He grabbed his jacket, shoving past Bruce.
"And where the fuck do you think you're going?"
"Out! Far, far away from you, because right now, I really don't think I can stop myself from killing you."
With that, the door slammed behind Jonathan, which meant that as soon as the slender man had been out of Bruce's sight he had took off running, though whether it had been fear or anger, Bruce wasn't sure.
"Get your hand off my ass, Edward," Jonathan said, not looking at the other man as he stared at his phone.
"Trust me, it's not for fun," Edward muttered. "Your boney ass is on my arm."
Jonathan finally tore his gaze away from the glow of his phone, looking down at Edward's bright red hair, before shifting, allowing Edward to move his arm. "It's not my fault you have the world's smallest bed," he muttered, realizing he was a bit too used to the king size bed he shared with Bruce.
"Not all of us are billionaires, Jonathan," Edward muttered before reaching up, long fingers wrapping around Jonathan's phone, before he promptly threw it across the room, smirking as it cracked.
"What the hell, Edward!"
"Give up, he's not going to call you. Now go the fuck to sleep. Some of us actually need our sleep."
"You don't even have a job, what would you need sleep for?" Jonathan muttered, but slid down the bed, pulling the thin blanket up to his chin.
"Beauty sleep, now go to bed." Edward muttered. He didn't mind Jonathan basically cocooning himself in the single blanket, finding enough warmth just being next to the other man. As Jonathan settled into his own thoughts, Edward's attention turned towards the sounds he could hear coming down the hall, smiling as he faintly heard Effie's soft snores, content with the moment.
He wrapped his arms around the cocoon that was his best friend, eyelids closing as he felt Jonathan's breath even out under him, the older man falling into sleep despite his wishes.
A mild storm started outside the window, a quick flash of lightning illuminating the dark figure watching the pair from the darkness.
