addy and steph are the (blondebat) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-03-25 18:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | door: dc comics, riddler, stephanie brown |
WHO stephanie brown, eddie nigma, and arthur brown.
WHAT awkward-ass birthday dinner.
WHEN steph's birthday, last saturday.
WHERE sal's italian restaurant in old gotham
WARNING family angst, eddie freak-outs. yknow the usual.
Old Gotham had a lot of bad restaurants. The kind with pizza so old the cheese had practically mummified to the tomatoes and pepperoni or sushi with spotted avocado and questionable mercury levels. But, it also had plenty of good restaurants if you didn’t mind tiny tables, dim lighting and unpronounceable menu items. And, while Los Tacos was Eddie’s castle where he had likely charmed and cheated his way into the hearts and minds of the staff there, Sal’s was more Arthur Brown’s speed. The Maroni family had been slipping him money and doing backdoor deals with Riddler so it was about as Switzerland as it was going to get. And, it wasn’t exactly in good taste to take your daughter to a mobster Italian restaurant, but in Gotham you couldn’t have a plate of spaghetti without tripping over a Capo. So, this was where it was all going to go down. Arthur with a couple of his men pretending to enjoy dinner in the back of the restaurant in case Riddler tried some funny business while Arthur himself tried to smooth things over with his daughter. Standing outside of Sal’s Italian Restaurant, Arthur Brown really did look like a father waiting for his daughter and her new boyfriend. He was a handful years older than Eddie and in much better shape than the wimpy little question marked man. Blonde hair showing just a little grey, worn face lined with criminal worries and stress. He wore what would constitute as a dad suit in a inoffensive blue, but his hulking figure and goonish posture made it look uncomfortable on him. Like a tractor farmer who had to take the night off for a funeral. In his hand was a present for Stephanie, a white little box that fit in his palm with a perfect red bow that was clearly tied by a woman behind a glass counter at the mall. It was hard to tell if the present was thoughtful or not, but Arthur seemed satisfied that he even got his little girl something. The satisfaction was enough to cover up his nerves of what was going to go down. He didn’t think Riddler knew about the Japanese device and so seemed to believe he had the upper hand in all of this, but with Stephanie thrown in the mix it was hard to predict anything beyond an awkward dinner. Stephanie spent the last few days capitulating over whether or not to even show up to birthday dinner with her father and almost regretting guilting Eddie into coming along. Okay, so she’d never really had a normal childhood or adolescence, one where the dad greeted the boyfriend with a stiff handshake and an idle threat or waited up for his little girl to get home from a first date like she’d seen in those cliche teen rom-coms. Normalcy like that intrigued her, teased her, made her run through a million what ifs. What if she didn’t grow up in Gotham? What if her mother didn’t pop pills when she was younger? What if her father wasn’t a wannabe villain bastard? But, that was all they were--what ifs. And, she knew that this wouldn’t be just a normal awkward dinner between father and boyfriend, even if there would be those simple, underlying problems underneath. Yeah, some girls got the shotgun threat, but hers was real. Or, really, it was a bomb vest strapped to Eddie’s chest. Still, she knew she couldn’t stand him up, not when this was exactly what she cried over since he had reappeared. Even before he’d reappeared in their lives. To have the chance to actually speak to him again, to reason with him, to possibly fix their relationship. It was a shot in the dark, a thin flicker of hope, and she knew that he shouldn’t be forgiven for what he’d done to her, to her mother, to Eddie. But, Steph didn’t have the heart in her to pass up the opportunity, didn’t have the strength to tell him no, and she suspected Eddie thought about that constantly over the preceding week and change. Steph knew she was weak for her father, even back when he’d cozied up to Eddie and dragged all of them into her home. She was so angry, but partially because she wanted him to actually try to be a good father. Because, at the end of the day, he was still her father, and she loved him. That feeling, that anger intermingled with resentment and a dash of daughter loving her father, had her strolling through Old Gotham to meet him at Sal’s. She suspected the place was a mob front, but then again what wasn’t in this city? At least there couldn’t be an all-out brawl on mob turf. And, she had a little insurance in case shit did hit the fan in the form of her retractable bo staff strapped to her thigh underneath her dress. She couldn’t come in full-out Batgirl regalia, obviously, nor could she even bring her utility belt full of gadgets, but she could bring this to give herself some sort of chance. She stopped in front when she saw him, conscious enough to keep a couple feet between them. “Hi,” the little blonde bat said, a bundle of nerves in a short purple dress and neutral heels. Appropriate enough for dinner with your father, but still just tight enough for her boyfriend, too. She bit down on her lip and worried it for a moment as she tried to think of what to do. Hug him? Shake his hand? She fought the urge to run a shaky hand through her hair. That would be a tell for how weird she felt about all this, and she didn’t want to show her hand that early, that easily. Her eyeliner-rimmed eyes met his mirror blues, and she offered him a tentative smile. There. That was a start. Arthur glanced over Stephanie’s head as if he expected Eddie to just pop out from behind her and then gave a relieved look. Oh, the Browns were so bad at keeping a good poker face. “Hi, babygirl.” He said a little too brightly, teeth clenched as he tried to hop over the awkwardness of it. “You look so grown up.” Arthur moved like he was going to ask for a hug, but changed his mind and instead opened the door. “He’s late, huh?” Because just saying Eddie Nigma made his whole mouth bitter. “Well, let’s wait inside. Here, I got you something.” He pushed the present at her before she could say no and stepped into the restaurant. The tiny box held a very expensive pair of tiny heart shaped, diamond encrusted earrings. The sort of gift that would make any normal daughter happy enough that she could overlook how little effort was put into actually picking them out. Arthur had reserved one of the best tables in the restaurant, a booth in the corner far enough from the window that they could forget they were in Gotham at all. It was an all too conscious effort to show how much he had, how much more he could obtain in this Gotham if nothing got in his way. He knew his daughter’s love couldn’t be bought when she was young and rebellious, but becoming an adult with her own bills and responsibilities tended to change that. He took a seat, leaning back on the red cushion and ordered some wine for the table. Looking to Stephanie for a reaction. Something positive. “I am grown up, Dad,” she said as casually as she could. It felt weird on her tongue -- dad -- in a way it hadn’t managed to in that mansion in Slaughter Swap. There, it was desperation, a plea for him realize what he was doing, but here, it tasted strange. More like a question of their relationship than a statement. Steph stiffened unconsciously when he leaned in for that abortive hug, a tension in her shoulders that settled in and spoke novels of how awkward and painful this all was for her, and she looked at him with wide eyes before sighing with a shake in her lungs. “He’ll be here soon,” she said quickly, defensively, and her blonde eyebrows shot up. “He had to take care of some things beforehand, but he’ll be here soon.” If this was how things were going to pan out, oh god, this was not going to be a great night. But, she did oblige Arthur and followed him into the restaurant, taking the gift in her hand before he let her protest. A quick glance over the restaurant raised no red flags for the blonde bat, aside from a couple of hulking figures enjoying their plates of spaghetti in the corners. She suspected her father would bring some guys along, especially given Eddie’s eventual presence, and she couldn’t exactly begrudge him it. Oh, it made her angry that they couldn’t just sit down without the pomp and circumstance or the goons hidden away, but then again, that was why she invited Eddie, right? Security. He made her feel safe. But, he wasn’t here now, and she’d have to take on her father on her own for a little, which, in theory, should have been fine. It was what she wanted, after all. “I haven’t been here before,” Steph said as she slid across the cushioned seat of the booth to sit across from Arthur. Passersby who didn’t specifically know their relationship could just tell it was an awkward father and daughter dinner. The blonde hair and blue eyes and matching stiff postures gave it all away. “It’s nice.” She flashed him a tight smile before going to open the tiny box. “Oh. They’re beautiful.” Yeah, she knew where that came from, and it wasn’t anything honest. She looked up with a shake of her head. “I can’t take these.” Eddie was actually there early. If you asked? He was over by the piano talking to Sergio about his momentary lapse in judgement when it came to jazz and the two of them swapped favorite uses of polyrhythms for a good twenty minutes before Arthur even showed up. See Gotham didn’t run on the mobsters with money to throw around, it was actually the doorkeepers, the piano players, the sushi chefs. He needed eyes and ears, not Italian mafioso swagger that always panned out into some twisted hangman court once one of his Arkham buddies finally snapped. So, while the rest of the restaurant wore the best suits they could afford and cufflinks that could put their daughters through college, Eddie was sporting a conservative button up shirt with a green sweater vest and a bowtie with digital 8-bit dinosaurs like a science teacher who wandered into the wrong side of town. And, yes, it was him telling the rest of Gotham that he was smarter than them. Because he was and if they wanted the keys to the internet black market, they had to play nice. Which, incidentally, was the theme of the night. And, no one could be nicer than little Eddie Nigma when he wanted to be. Arm in the sling, bandages across his face hiding greening bruises and slight, geeky frame exaggerated with his funny outfit. Gosh he looked harmless and it was the same tactic he used on the Bat or anyone else who spent more than five hours a week in the gym. But, it was important to note that no one in the entire restaurant looked twice. Not after he stamped his bright green question mark over everything they wanted and held it over their hungry jaws with little intention of actually giving in unless it matched his particular shade of grey. He leaned on the large, black piano like a man leaned on his favorite car and glanced up when he saw the Browns walk in. Eddie wasn’t wearing his glasses while he spoke to Sergio (a sign of respect that not even Sal received), but the moment he saw Arthur he reached for them in his front pocket instinctively. Where was his reality altering device that let him just skip ahead to dangling his feet off the top of Wonder Tower with Stephanie? He stalked behind Arthur’s back and waited for Stephanie to look up. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, a moment for just them with a bitten smirk that proved he had no idea what she and her dad were talking about. He was just happy to see her. Wagging his tail and holding back a bark. Eddie slipped his glasses on and those big, dark eyes vanished behind violet codes and numbers as he took his time to get over to the table. Reluctant, like he was thinking of just running for it. Back at the table, Arthur swallowed anger as Stephanie tried to reject his present. “What do you mean you can’t?” He asked, keeping his voice as even as possible. Having an outburst so soon was a mistake and doing it in Sal’s place proved that he wasn’t ready for the big leagues. Everyone had someone like Stephanie in their family and if Arthur couldn’t deal with it, then he didn’t deserve the booth. So he kept a tight lip, looking at his daughter with more anger in his eyes than anyone in the restaurant could see except her. “You can’t give back a gift.” And, on cue, Eddie slid up to the table. Really, it seemed like he timed the whole damn thing. “Actually she can.” He piped in like he was explaining inertia of Hot Wheels, his entire personality just vibrating with energy as if he was saying See? See how alive I am you bastard? “What are those?” He gave a skeptical look, carefully climbing into the booth next to Stephanie and delicately placing his hand on her thigh for a moment before keeping all hands above the table. Eddie’s glasses blinked and if either of them looked at the violet lenses, they’d see he was calculating their worth before giving a sort of disappointed look at Arthur. Her frown was deep as she drummed her fingers against the tiny box holding earrings that could pay her tuition for all four years. And, if she hadn’t been so stubborn, she might consider taking the help from her father. Living in Gotham on your own was expensive, after all, and she didn’t have those Wayne billions that cushioned the other bats and birds. But, Stephanie Brown was a righteous little thing, and taking dirty money from her father had her stomach lurching. She managed to look up just in time to catch those waggled eyebrows, and her lips fought a twitching smile that was nothing for her father. Looked nothing like the smiles she’d flashed Arthur. It was easy and loving and a little relieved. Amused, too, by that puppy dog enthusiasm he showed her. The smile wibbled as she glanced back at her father, turning back into something cautious and tight. He couldn’t have really expected her to be completely on board with all of this, right? Granted, it was a little hypocritical, knowing full-well that not all of Eddie’s money was honest either, but this was different. Right? Eddie was gray, she was too (even if it was a lighter shade), but her father didn’t show any signs of changing his colors. Yet. She placed the top on the box delicately. “I-,” she began to argue, but right on cue, her geek in green armor loped over to the table and slid in next to her. Stephanie tried her best not to look relieved, but her tense shoulders loosened, and something in her chest she didn’t realize pained before released. The brush of his hand against her thigh quelled some of those snapping nerves, and she couldn’t help the smile she flashed him before turning back to her father. “It’s too much,” she tried, pushing the little box across the table, but then she caught his blue eyes. “You know why I can’t.” I can’t condone this, her twin-blues said to his. Glancing to the violet glasses, she frowned in disapproval. Okay, she hated them, but it was only fair that Eddie had something for all of this, too. She bit down on her bottom lip for a second before turning to both of them. “Play nice tonight. For me.” Arthur didn’t bother hiding his disappointment that Eddie had shown and sat up a little straighter, shoulders forward like he was asserting dominance. “Nigma.” Was all he said, gruff and mildly unpleasant before turning his attention back at Stephanie. “That was just from doing a small favor. Everyone does favors in Gotham, it’s how things get done.” Arthur seemed apologetic, though never lost that attitude like he still understood Gotham better than she did. And, he looked to Eddie for the first time for some kind of backup. The Riddler was always a lot better at logicking out this kind of thing. As much as Arthur hated the dork sometimes, he could talk his way out of a locked box if he wanted to. But, Eddie didn’t give him anything. He didn’t necessarily disagree with a sentiment that the underground had been chanting since before the bat, but it wasn’t a lasting plan. “Flying rodents tend to sniff out the more lucrative deals, Artie.” Eddie said finally and then silently scolded himself for sounding too much like the Riddler who used to crash on the Brown family couch. Glancing over to Stephanie, he wondered if he had to prove anything to her. If she really trusted he wasn’t hurting anyone. Sure, Eddie was in the business of trade for trade until it turned into cash, but he didn’t rob banks. He didn’t supply the illegal gun market. And, he sure as hell didn’t peddle narcotics. Gotham’s moral code didn’t divide down on what was legal, it was all about trying to think of who could get hurt. And, if the little guy got hurt by collateral damage? Some single mother riding on the train with her daughter? Then Eddie didn’t touch it. In fact, he’d go so far as to stop it. Not just for Stephanie or trying to do the right thing, but because he remembered what it was like being a kid in Gotham, too. And, for once, he was starting to let that count for something. “I’m being nice.” Eddie murmured, eyeing the bottle of wine that was brought to the table and then decided against it. Water and ice to crunch for him, please. He turned to look at Stephanie, repressing the usual ow ow ow that came with moving too sharply and gave her a thin smile like he was trying that verged on pleading. It was a side that Stephanie was familiar with by now, but it was absolutely new to Arthur as he watched on. Eddie begged before, but it was never at the expense of his pride or superiority. But here, with Stephanie, he looked kind of pathetic. It was too bad that Eddie insisted on the glasses, because it hid a gentleness in his eyes that would have surprised any of his old criminal partners. “It’s your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “You tell us what we can talk about.” Stephanie fashioned a quick, hard glare on Eddie, jaw set tight and blue eyes narrowed. The comment about bats sounded a little too close to the former Riddler for her taste. Okay, perhaps this wasn't the greatest idea to pit the two of them together. Riddler and Cluemaster. Dangling Eddie closer to the edge of something awful that they had both been trying to keep him away from, and the thought made her a little uncomfortable and very wary. She shifted in her seat almost imperceptibly, a tiny wiggle of discomfort that brought that tension back into her shoulders. Yeah, this was a bad idea, wasn't it? "Not everyone deals in favors like that in Gotham, you know. Or, at least, in this Gotham." Which wasn't entirely true, she knew that. The plague and how Eddie worked during those couple of weeks demonstrated that. Handshakes and promises and favors were the law of the land in their world of black and gray, but bats and birds worked differently. Suddenly, she felt out of place among these underground Gotham kings (or wannabe royalty). Being born to a man obsessed with being on top of the dirty underworld of their city, Stephanie could have turned out just like two men sitting around her. (Or how they used to be, she hoped.) Fingers itching for something shady, something not completely right. But, that stubbornness and righteousness afforded the blonde bat a unique perspective. One that had her gray, sure, but on the lighter side of the spectrum than her father and boyfriend, and it wasn't as stark before as right then. Still, Eddie was trying, and hopefully Arthur would try, too. She caught his shaky smile, Eddie's question-marked expression, and her hand slipped down briefly to drag a light hand across his thigh in reassurance. "I, uh," Steph stammered out, brain stuttering to a stop. What could they talk about? That Japanese-made machine Arthur had tucked away by the docks? How he nearly killed both she and Eddie? "Gotham Knights? Do you follow them?" she asked across the table at her father. The flash of a smile, almost a shrug across her lips, told both men she was grasping at straws. She scrambled for that bottle of wine. “I’ve started to get into them. Well, I’ve been forced to get into them. Spring training is starting soon, right?” She turned to Eddie for confirmation before pouring herself a small sip of wine that she gulped down readily. Something to take the edge of but nothing to get her wasted. Eddie’s eyes went so wide behind the violet glasses that she could see the top of them peeking through. No. Oh god no. He glanced over to Arthur and could practically imagine an anime styled close up on their narrowed eyes, black borders slanted as synth blasted in the background. He exhaled, calculating the likelihood Arthur wouldn’t take advantage of a clear weakness in the Riddler sanity wall. Goddamn he could already feel some of his marbles shaking loose from the carefully labeled jars he shoved them in. This was it, wasn’t? Arthur would dig and dig until he hit that riddled mess buried under functionality and love for Stephanie. That was the point of the trash scavenger hunt, right? To prove Eddie always kept a string out to be pulled until he completely unraveled? Someone call Batman, it was time to go home to Arkham before Riddler turned this city green. Arthur smiled smugly and poured himself a glass of wine like he was some kind of king. “Oh sure.” He looked right at Eddie, right past the violet glasses and that clenched fist in his sling that must have hurt. “What was the game you were obsessing over again?” Arthur actually gave Eddie a chance to respond, he let the silence hang and then he looked to Stephanie apologetically. “See, when Eddie here decided to strap a bomb to my chest, he put together a bunch of riddles and clues about some Gotham Knights baseball game so he could get a scorecard. How pathetic is that?” Eddie’s clenched fist turned white, the pain keeping him from snapping. Getting his old exploits thrown in his face wasn’t something he was used to. Most people in Gotham were just glad he was trying to get better. “You’re wrong, Artie. It was all an excuse to wear my fake handlebar moustache and dress the girls up as Goof and Goofette.” He managed through his teeth and forced himself to focus on the blinking messages, lines of code and emails on his violet glasses. They turned darker, almost completely purple and he sat back in the booth and it looked like someone took out his batteries. The waitress stopped by their table just then, looking over the trio and then deciding to come back for their orders later. Stephanie’s eyebrows shot up high, high, high when she saw Eddie’s eyes widen, and oh god, what had she done? Where was the pause button in all this? The rewind button had to be somewhere. She opened her mouth quickly to retract it, but her father was already off on something, and Stephanie couldn’t help pouring herself another glass. It wasn’t about burying her feelings in the booze; after growing up surrounded by addiction, she tried her best to avoid that. No, she just needed something to do, and the plop, plop, plop of the red filling her wineglass filled the silence that seemed to stretch forever. The blonde bat glanced between the two men as she lifted the glass to her lips and sipped, and when she placed her glass back to the table, her red-stained mouth turned down. “Dad,” she snapped, palms turning down on the table and fingers curling underneath. She afforded Eddie a glance out of the corner of her eye. On principle, she didn’t bring up past exploits by either of them because there was just too much goddamn history there. History with her father, even in this Gotham. It didn’t seem conducive to helping Eddie avoid continuing that sort of thing, and hell if she wanted to drum up the fact that he’d killed people before, beat the crap out of her before, nearly killed her father and members of her other family before. No, that could all stay nice and tucked away in a past fogged over by love and affection and change. But, having Arthur here did nothing but drag their dirty pasts into the light. Her face screwed up for a minute, and she nudged Eddie’s side, careful not to hit a bruise, to tell him he wasn’t being much better. “Okay, so that’s off the table,” she said as lightly as she could, as if they hadn’t just talked about murdering each other. She took another sip, then picked up her menu and glanced over it. Without looking up, she mumbled, “Let’s just--food. Okay, food.” The wine brought a warmth to her belly and calmed her down enough to quell the urge to knock both of their heads in. Eddie barely even registered the bump to his shoulder and while normally he tried to take her scolding to heart if it seemed to cause her pain, he was too busy trying to fit his tetris shaped brain together so he didn’t jump on the table and start shouting riddles. He didn’t even have his gun, but then again he had already bribed one of Arthur’s goons and three of the cooks in the back. Plus, he was pretty sure Sergio had a pistol strapped to the bottom of his piano? No. Bad thoughts. Back to losing himself in rehashing some of his own code. It took longer on the glasses and he had to focus where he looked and how quickly he scrolled through the drop down bars, but that was good. Strings and args and targets and if issorted lists to keep him a happy little Riddler. “Eggplant parmesan for me.” He said like a drone and a little dead inside, even though the waitress wasn’t there anymore and didn’t seem to notice anything outside of his digital space. Arthur sat forward, not completely understanding the hoops Eddie was jumping through to get himself back in order, but he did see the crazy. “No, Stephanie. You brought him. We’re talking about this.” He took another couple gulps of wine and actually had some kind of dad tone going that would have made Eddie laugh and laugh if he wasn’t lost in numbers. “Don’t you see how nuts he is? That’s why I sent him all those clues. To show you that your little boyfriend here belongs in Arkham even when he’s pretending to play nice. Pretending. One day he’s going to snap and do something like what he did to me. I know you don’t like what I’m doing with my money and business, but at least I’m not on that level.” Eddie heard the tail end of that, his head tilting to the side a little even though his expression was still completely blanked. “I want to make like a tree and bark.” He murmured and then his eyebrows moved behind the glasses. “No I mean leave. Make like a tree and leaf.” But, he didn’t move and instead seemed to slowly, painfully bring himself back down. A soft, regretful noise escaped Stephanie’s throat, though she was honestly a little perturbed that Eddie retreated behind those goddamn violet glasses. She fought the overwhelming urge to snatch them off his face, but that would show a weakness between the two of them. A crack in the foundation that Arthur could drill through until he got what he wanted -- Eddie broken and Stephanie on his side. She bit on the inside of her cheek instead, and turned away to face her father, who earned a pair of raised eyebrows at that parental tone he cracked. Oh, now he wanted to play father of the year, did he? What about the times she needed him? What about when she was growing up? His greed outweighed his need for his daughter’s love and affection. She slapped the menu down on the table and looked at Arthur with fiery mirrored blues. “He’s getting better,” she snapped through gritted teeth. “You’re triggering him, and you know it. You’re poking and prodding, and of course those clues were going to drive him up the wall. They’d drive me up the wall. He’s trying to change, Dad, which is more than I can say for you.” She jabbed a finger in his direction, and there was an angry shake to her voice. Something both men were quite familiar with. A deep, jagged breath to calm herself down, Steph squeezed her eyes shut and reached to grab Eddie’s hand briefly, tightly. “We know about that shipment you got the other day. You’re still a bastard.” Oops, outside voice. She winced, but not enough to unsettle her resolve. Arthur wasn’t allowed to go after them, not like this. Not so ruthlessly. Sometimes, the physical wasn’t as bad as the emotional and mental games the past could toy with. Eddie didn’t want to come back to this conversation, the dinner or this damned mobster restaurant. He’d be happier in endless little puzzles, challenges and crosswords. He could lose himself for months in his computers before Stephanie lodged herself somewhere in his ribcage and in those couple of minutes it seemed like he was capable of falling back into it. But, when she caught his hand, he linked his fingers through hers and held on a little tighter and longer than she had intended. It was hard for Eddie to leave a challange on the table, impossible most of the time, but he had to try. This wasn’t about outsmarting Artie, that was a given, this was about pushing back and making it very clear how many chances he had left with the changed riddled man. His glasses blinked, blinked and then turned partially transparent before he took the things off and looked at Arthur. “Alright.” Eddie said, voice clear and rising in something that was more geek than the crook Cluemaster was familiar with. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” He sat up in the booth, leaning forward and leveling with Arthur like he was about to pull a very large splinter out of the man’s paw. “We know what you’re planning on doing. I know where you’re getting the money. I’m not here because I want to threaten you, Artie. I’m here because she wants you to see how different things are now. Just give up this-” Eddie made a flapping gesture with his slinged arm. “And the three of us can start over. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that all you could ask for?” So, maybe the Riddler was still a little crazy. Maybe he dreamed in question marks and could be triggered into panic attacks that immobilized him. But, god he wanted to change. He wanted something good after decades of chasing his own tail. But, Arthur looked flabbergasted. Angry that Riddler had the nerve to talk to him like some kind of enlightened and changed man. From across the table, you could practically hear his expression scream screw that as his face turned a certain shade of red both Eddie and Stephanie were familiar with. “You’re just jealous, Nigma.” Arthur ignored Stephanie’s accusation like he had heard it a thousand times before. “You want to take everything from me, right? My daughter, my business and then what? What happens when you get everything?” “My life isn’t about taking anymore, Arthur. It’s about building.” Eddie snapped back, righteous dorky anger that was low and sharp. And, now the waitress wouldn’t even come near their table and the rest of the restaurant seemed happy the piano nearly drowned them out. Okay, this was getting out of hand and they hadn’t even ordered yet. Eddie glanced to Stephanie with an almost apologetic raise of his brow. The crazy that Arthur stirred up was still on the surface, rolling around like a small film over his eyes. “What about this? Now that you know what’ll happen if you keep on this foolish path you’ve chosen for yourself and you understand that your daughter is in fact giving you a real chance at being a father, let’s try to have a normal dinner.” Eddie sat up straight, pleased with his idea even though Arthur was still glaring at him. “Seriously.” And, he looked to Stephanie to start acting out the motions. Even though at this point it almost felt like they were playing pretend at Ikea. Steph’s lungs felt tight, and she tried her best to push out that sharp angry sigh lodged in her throat. So, this was turning out to be one of the lamest birthdays ever -- lamer than that time for her twelve birthday when she spent it visiting Arthur in jail and lamer than her fourth birthday and Bozo the clown (and that was goddamn lame) -- and they hadn’t even gotten their bread basket yet. Her fingers itched for something to busy themselves with because she couldn’t punch her way out of this mess. Even if she really, really, really wanted to knock a good one into her dad’s nose. It probably wouldn’t teach her a lesson, and it definitely wouldn’t stop him clawing towards some twisted crime empire, but it would make her feel a little better. Maybe it would shut him up long enough for their (still not ordered, by the way) antipasto to make it to the table. Maybe, at least, it would make him think for a damn moment. But, the Browns were never really about thinking, were they? They were about emotions and jump decisions and letting your heart (or your greed) lead you even in the face of insurmountable logic. She let Eddie speak, and she looked down at her hands, which were now twisting and wringing nervously in her lap, and she didn’t give a response to either’s accusations or prodding. Let them battle it out for a few seconds while she tried to center herself and try her best not to storm away from this scene. Her glance flickered up to Eddie briefly as she pursed her lips hard, and she met that raised brow with the flash of a grateful smile. Eddie wasn’t perfect, not by any means and neither was she, but he was trying to be better, attempting to change his life. It was more than she could say for her dad, despite all of her well-wishes for the contrary. Wordlessly, she began to scan through the menu and waved a dismissive hand to encourage the other two do to the same. That was when you knew Stephanie Brown was really upset: when she didn’t speak a word, when she was conscious enough to bite her tongue and shut up. This was a bad idea, and she kind of wanted to kick herself for agreeing to the whole thing and suggesting Eddie tag along. Maybe if they sat in silence the entire time, everyone would come out of this one the way they came in. Not ideal, especially in Stephanie’s eyes, but better than the alternative of her beating the crap out of her dad, and then her dad’s lackeys beating the crap out of her. But, somewhere between the penne alla vodka and chicken parmigiana, she squeezed her eyes tight, and she let that sharp sigh out that was building up in her chest. “You know what, Dad?” she snapped, looking up from the menu for the first time in minutes. She edged away from Eddie, a little shift down the cushion of the booth, and fixed a hard look on her father. “The only reason you’ll lose anything here is because of yourself. You’re the one who wants to fall back into this sort of life.” She swept a hand around them. “And I’m not being taken from you. You did that all yourself a loooong time ago.” The silence that settled in made Eddie panic. Ears going a little hot, head pounding as he looked at Stephanie, then Arthur and then his water glass. He reached for it, maybe even a little too hastily and started crunching away at the thinning ice. Eddie focused on ice harvesting. On how back before refrigerators, it had to be chipped and boxed and sent to warmer places. He focused on the Ice King, Frederic Tudor and wondered if Freeze ever did some kind of heist with that guy in mind. Probably not, Freeze was so goddamned single-minded sometimes, but if Riddler ever worked with him again he’d bring it up at a meeting. Try to pitch the idea of shooting blocks of ice out of a cannon or something spectacular like that. Make the riddles about ponds, Walden Pond, transcendentalists, to transcend the need for old world methods. He could probably stretch the whole thing out over a handful of robberies and twice as many riddles. And, it would be ultimately boring waiting around for the bat dorks to figure everything out instead of thrilling. Plus, there’d be a big old cell in Arkham with his name stamped on it and not enough break-up songs playing over the intercom to make up for losing Stephanie to his own riddling boredom. Oh well. Eddie snapped out of his ice-themed, imaginary riddle escapade when Stephanie moved and started talking to Arthur again and watched, mouth a little open. And, Arthur didn’t see it coming either. He was pissed at Eddie’s typical passive aggressive threatening like he was playing some kind of rogue turned bat, but he thought once everyone went quiet, they’d actually drop it. Nothing on his face seemed to suggest he was even considering changing his mind about his “business” or the machine they found on the docks, so he’d milk this neutral ground as long as he could take it. But, then Stephanie was in his face, lecturing him again on the same old same old. “You two act so high and mighty. So fucking high and mighty.” Arthur snapped back, jabbing a finger at Eddie and the Stephanie. “I don’t have to take this. I wanted a nice dinner with my daughter, and what do I get? Her freakshow boyfriend and a lecture. I know you’re twenty now, Stephanie, but you’re still a kid. You don’t get how any of this works.” Arthur finished off his wine and started scooting out of the booth to leave. “No. Please. Don’t go.” Eddie chimed sarcastically from the other side of the table, kind of smirking at being called a freakshow. That was a classic. Well, there went her mouth again, ruining everything and stirring up problems that seemed to be solved. Great, wonderful. Good job once again, Stephanie Brown. She held back a wince, something that would have shown she actually regretted it. And, she didn’t, in theory, regret telling her father like it was. Truth Bomb 2013, courtesy of the little blonde bat. He had to recognize that brash anger in her as his own, another Brown family trait that landed them in trouble more often than not. There they were, the wannabe rogue and the out-of-place bat, going toe-to-toe like back in the day, when Eddie wasn’t Eddie at all to her, but that bastard in green and purple holing away in her home. That was the way it had always been: Arthur and Stephanie butting heads because neither would bend enough for the other. Steph nudged an elbow into Eddie’s side, not mindful this time of the bruises or damage that might be there from his own tango with her father, and she afforded him a glare before turning away again. She stared at Arthur with unwavering fire in her eyes, but hurt flickered through and her tense mouth turned down when he got up to leave. “Dad,” she pleaded, reaching out for his wrist. This was it, she could feel it. If he walked away, there wasn’t a goddamn hope that he was going to waver in his choice to pursue a life of greed and crime. “I know more about Gotham than you’d believe.” She tugged against his wrist, edging further away from Eddie, though she did hook a foot around his ankle to assure him she wasn’t going anywhere. “Especially this Gotham. I’m telling you it’s different, and I can help you figure all this out.” Her lip didn’t wibble, though it felt like it should, but her voice did crack just enough to let Arthur know she was sincere. They were always out of place, Arthur and Stephanie Brown, and trying their best to find where they belonged. She would be there to support him, if he really wanted to turn a new leaf. “C’mon.” Another tug, this one more pleading and very little girl begging for attention from her distant father. Nothing like the twenty year old she claimed to be. Arthur was hoping for someone at the table to actually try to get him to stop and that grab for his wrist froze him as he was half out of the booth. His harsh look down at her faltered a little at her plea, but all the anger and selfishness always trumped whatever love he was supposed to have for his daughter. If family, unconditional love and support were all he needed, Arthur Brown wouldn’t have become a criminal. And, while he might have claimed that his exploits were for his family, the money and possible fame that could go along with it were for him. And, that never changed. Eddie could have told Stephanie that, but there was no use in getting in the way of her brand of hope. She had to learn it the hard way, like the rest of Gotham, until it stuck. And, Eddie wasn’t even convinced that it would. So, Arthur’s face turned red again (predictably) and he snatched his wrist away. “It’s not about this Gotham or our Gotham. It’s about me. You want me to give all of this up so you can feel better about yourself. You want me to sacrifice everything for you ‘cause you got some kind of fancy moral code. Gotham’s never really gunna change. You’re never going to change. And, neither will he.” Arthur looked over at Eddie, who was sitting patient and innocently on the far end of the booth. Eddie, who didn’t hook his foot into Stephanie’s when she tried to bridge the two men. Who straightened his bowtie with one hand, smoothing his fingers from the middle knot outwards like a spider slowly weaving. His dark eyes were calmer now, almost filled with pity for the Browns. He always pitied them the way someone who never had a family would and quietly thanked god he had left all of that behind at the age of fourteen. But, the truth was, if he had someone like Stephanie from the beginning, he would have never become the Riddler. Or, never become the Riddler they knew now. Unlike Arthur, he didn’t care about money or even fame that much. He really just wanted someone to listen to him, to love him despite all his quirks and questions. And, the fact that Arthur needed more than that was worth pitying. He was right, there wasn’t a Gotham that forgave a man like that. Not a single one. “I’m tired of being a guest of rivers and lakes.” Eddie said, finally, expression sincere as it was lost in its own riddle. Darkness set into the little nerd’s gaze and suddenly it looked like someone else had taken quirky Eddie over. Someone who spent months in Arkham talking to walls, someone who was haunted by wings, someone who would rather pull out his own mechanisms than keep playing the same song over and over. “You’re going to lose out there, Artie.” The Riddler raised his eyebrows, fire brewing that wasn’t hate, anger or malice. Only ominous clouds of someone who could predict riddles before they even happened. “You’re going to throw a die that someone else loaded.” And then the little green man just stared for a couple moments before picking his glasses back up, slipping them on and focusing down on the table like he could see something written there. Arthur made a move like he was going to throttle Eddie, but instead just slammed his fist down on the table (which elicited no response from the riddled man). “I’m outta here.” Arthur glanced back at Stephanie, grimacing at her like she just trashed their house or painted the dog. “Happy birthday.” He spat and then stormed out. Steph's mouth screwed up when Eddie didn't acknowledge her little nudge, upset but not surprised that Eddie shut down the way he did. She should have predicted the sequence of events that unfolded in this mob-owned restaurant, should have taken the necessary steps to prevent such a massive, epic fail. Her father earned wide eyes when he yanked his wrist out of her grip, and she let her hand fall unceremoniously onto the tabletop with a thunk. She had hoped a heartfelt plea would make him reconsider this stupid life he was leading and the dark whole he was about to tumble down. Alice falling into a darker Wonderland. And Eddie wasn't helping one damn bit with his riddles and those goddamn violet glasses. She couldn't look at him as he rattled off his last word, and just fixated on her father. Her heart swelled in pain and ached in a way she hadn't felt for her father in a long time. Not even in Las Vegas with her mini-breakdown in Siobhan's apartment. No, this had been real, tangible. He sat across from her with that familiar blond hair and those unmistakable blue eyes. Having her father back was within her reach, and now he was just dust in the wind. The slammed fist had her jump where Eddie was as cool as a cucumber. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw him burrow away behind his glasses. Those fucking glasses. She let Arthur leave without another word or beg or plea, mouth ajar as she stared at his retreating back before looking down at her lap with a long, shaky breath. She let the silence stretch, at a complete loss for words, and she curled a little further away from Eddie. The sting, fresh and new, had her biting down hard on her bottom lip, worrying it until it could have gone bloody. No words, just a painful throb in her chest. Eddie didn’t move for a while after that, eyes still on the table as his good hand pressed against the surface, seeking out little water trails left from the sweat of his ice glass. “I wonder if he got it.” He said distantly, drawing invisible question marks in the water with his finger. “I wonder if he even reads Judge Dee.” His mouth screwed up in a regretful sort of look that wasn’t really about Arthur leaving, but more about the fact that he may not have gotten the hint. Oh, well. No one really entertained his riddles anymore. Eddie was getting really good at hiding how much that bothered him sometimes. Usually there was enough going on that he didn’t feel compelled, but now he was wishing he spent the whole dinner leaving clues and messing with Arthur instead of trying. Wouldn’t that have been more satisfactory? Especially when the outcome would be about the same? He started mashing his fingers into the water trails until they practically evaporated and dried on his skin. Eddie was hurting too, but he didn’t really know it. He was too busy trying to keep everything in order, trying to push the madness back in their specific boxes so that Arthur couldn’t prove him wrong at the end of this. How pathetic was it that one little monster from his past popping up would be nearly enough to unravel so much? He sniffed, inhaling like he had forgotten to breathe for a couple seconds and the oxygen rushing to his brain told him Arthur was being a bully. He was always a bully and the only reason why Riddler pushed him around was for some schoolyard revenge. But, a true bully, an absolute one, never learned. Never stopped. Never relented. And, Eddie would have to keep that in mind to prevent himself from destroying Arthur later. Another couple of deep breaths and Eddie was a couple scoots closer to Stephanie. He reached out his good hand for hers, eyes blinking behind the violet glasses. “Look at me.” He asked quietly. The restaurant seemed hushed now. The piano being the only noise he could really hear beyond his own breathing. They had to get out of there soon and Eddie knew once he was gone, Sal wasn’t going to let him back in. Arthur had picked this place because no matter what happened, it would sabotage Eddie’s relationship with the mob family. And, Artie didn’t know it, but he just did Nigma a big favor because he wouldn’t have been able to cut that tie on his own. Steph picked at the hemline of her purple dress to give her hands something to do that wasn't punching the lights out of someone. Which would do just fine for her right then and there. Hitting some thugs in an alleyway until her fists ached and she felt a little better. She wondered if her father's goons vacated the premises yet, or if she could let some of this pent up frustration out on some mobster foot soldiers. She could still do a mean roundhouse in a paid of heels, after all. She needed to get this anger out somehow. Anything to help her forget what had just conspired. She didn't scoot away from Eddie, though when he took her hand, she made no response, physical or otherwise. She simply stared down at his hand holding hers and tried her best to fight the overwhelming need to cry or kick or something. In that moment, for the first time in a long time, having Eddie by her side didn't feel like a comfort. The feeling was fleeting at best because she didn't really think anything could have gone differently because of him. Worrying her lip, she finally grunted a soft, mournful sound, like a whine but more pathetic, and she looked up at him. "What?" she asked, tone heavy and fighting to quell all those emotions. And, after a second, she said, "Take those off. Please." Eddie squirmed a little in his seat, puzzles and riddles falling apart over something so trivial as not being able to make her feel better. He was so used to her fitting into his arms when he got close and when she barely reacted to him, he felt like running. Like jumping over the table and bolting for the door. But, he wasn’t afraid of her. He was afraid she thought he let her down. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t try. It would have been better and bribed Arthur somehow to make the night go smoothly. Eddie didn’t do any of that, out of an attempt to be honest and now he was paying for it. “Okay.” He said about the glasses, letting go of her hand to take them off and stick them away in his sweater vest pocket. What was hidden behind the violet shades seemed to be mostly concern with what was left of his riddled anxiety dissolving into it. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested the side of his face on a closed hand. Dark eyes staying on her brightly intense blues that he never recognized as Arthur’s, even if they were exactly the same. That was a connection he refused to make. “I’m sorry.” He whispered as the restaurant started to pick back up and busy itself as Gotham tended to do. Eddie saw that look she gave when she wanted to punch something hard and wondered if offering up his already battered body would be any kind of consolation prize. “You wanna go in the back alley and break my legs?” He tried to smile, but it came out a little like a third grader taking his yearbook picture. There was no thanks when he slipped the glasses off his nose and tucked them away from her sight. No words of acknowledgement or encouragement as she turned away for a second to stare at the seat cushion that housed her father only moments before. It was a sudden, sharp void that she hadn’t felt since her father apparently died while working on the Suicide Squad years ago. And, she didn’t really blame Eddie, theoretically, but she couldn’t help the sharp sting in her chest when she thought about how things could go differently in a situation with changed variables. She couldn’t muster up the energy and control to assuage his panicking either, not when her own head was filled with doubt and anger and loss. Leave to her dad to squash the tiniest glimmer of hope in any Gotham he could. But, he didn’t take Eddie away from Steph, and that was already a loss in the Arthur Brown Book of Criminology. So, when she looked back into his dark eyes, she felt a little knot in her stomach untangle. She hadn’t noticed the din of hushed whispers grow in volume at first until she had to strain to hear his own whispered apology. She shrugged quickly, glancing away for a second to hide away the water rimming her eyes. His offer, however, earned him a quiet, watery laugh and a blonde bat facing him again. “No, not even you deserve that,” she assured, reaching out to brush delicate fingers across his cheekbone before stealing a kiss. “But, I do think there are a couple guys who want to kick our asses in that corner over there.” She nodded at a booth on the opposite side where a couple of her dad’s hulking goons leered at the bat and question-marked man. His mind buzzed quietly, calming and smoothing down the mess Arthur had stirred up. It was a little like someone going through a neat-freak’s locker and pulling everything out before stuffing it back in. And, Eddie had to just sit there, slowly organizing papers back to where they belonged in the correct categories before he had some kind of panic attack over it. Stephanie was good at helping with that, even if she didn’t really understand to what extent. “One of them is mine, it’s fine.” Eddie smirked a little proudly, eyes brightening with deviousness before he burrowed it away for her. He could tip the odds in his favor, but she didn’t need to be reminded how roguish he was about it. A bat would just bring a couple extra batarangs. Eddie would buy back goons under Gotham’s nose. But, maybe he couldn’t play that game anymore, either. “I wonder if Sal would box something up for us to go...?” Eddie asked with a goofy smirk and then touched the side of her face with the back of his fingers as if he were testing the temperature of her cheeks before gesturing for them to get the hell out of there. They could hash out the rest when Gotham wasn’t watching. She could even yell at him if she wanted, but doing it here was a mistake. Steph scrutinized the men lurking in the dark corner, trying to ascertain which of them Eddie had bought off, and she fixed a glare on him. She wanted him to be different from the man her father thought he was now, but wiggling his way into a pack of Brown thugs didn’t seem like the best way to do that. Oh, he’d hear about that later. But, for now, she nudged his side at his suggestion, a scoff on her lips and a roll of watery blues. “Only if we don’t mind them spitting in our food. Or poisoning it.” She leaned into the grazed fingertips, eyes shutting briefly before she took his good hand in hers, tangled their fingers, and tugged him to follow along. She didn’t want to make their escape like an obvious panic fleeing, but they did need to get out of there stat. So, she shifted out of the booth, pulling him with her, and made her way towards the door. Conscious of all eyes on them after the scene they caused in that tiny booth tucked away in the back of the restaurant. Well, she certainly wouldn’t be invited back here. Eddie was really good at looking inconspicuous, or rather, he acted like someone who thought he was really good at acting inconspicuous. He threw some money on the table for the wine, cheesing a smile at some lingering looks from patrons and waved at Sergio who seemed more amused than 90% of the rest of the place. But, again, that was sort of a badge of pride for the little riddled man. He could calculate how fast news would spread of his little tiff with Arthur and could accurately guess who would stay in his corner for this. Eddie didn’t care. He could take whatever information he wanted and the only real help he needed came from people he actually trusted. His grip tightened around her hand, palm pressing against hers as his fingers slipped perfectly between hers. He instinctively reached for his glasses again once they got close to the door, but he realized that with an arm in his sling, the only way he could put them on was by letting go of her and the symbolism was too much for him to take. So he just smiled over to her, soft and affectionate. “Wonder Tower.” He told her quietly once they were hit by the smoggy Gotham spring air. Then, realizing he hadn’t made it a question, he tried again. “Wonder...Tower?” Eddie’s voice lifted up with the question mark that was all his own and it sounded like he was asking her to go hide out in his treehouse for a little while. As he wound his fingers around hers, Steph squeezed his hand tightly. She caught the twitch for his glasses and appreciated that he didn’t immediately rip them out to hide away again. It meant a lot to her, and she figured out a little of that symbolism, too. That he wasn’t burrowing away even in spite of what they’d just dealt with had her chest feeling warm, the knot in her stomach unraveling, and the squeeze of her fingers harder than before. She returned that smile, relieved to have gotten out of that restaurant in one piece (physically, at least), and quirked an eyebrow at his command. Even though he’d told her about wanting to bring her there as part of his planned birthday night, she was surprised he wanted to do anything at all after what just happened. She was emotionally exhausted, and she was certain that he was more upset than he was letting off. But, she couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. Maybe she would feel better about all of this later. “Wonder Tower,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand and leaning forward to press a kiss to her favorite little spot at the edge of his jaw. Maybe this could be salvaged yet. |