Doctor Jonathan Crane (i_fear) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2013-06-14 05:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | edward nigma, jonathan crane, zz:status complete |
A Troubled Fantasy (Edward/Jonathan)
(mentions of sexual acts - non graphic)
Edward hadnt been very pleased with the turn of events from the fire fight he'd been in with his daughter. He was glad she'd been shot, but he had too. And she had survived. That was the most irksome thing ever.
His chest and shoulder still throbbed from the hits he'd taken, the ones Jonathan had had to repair for him. If Eddie wasn't careful he'd be looking much like a rag doll instead of a man.
He shifted slowly, trying to ease the pain he was feeling, settling once more in the chair he currently occupied. He was in Spooky's office, waiting for his man to finish up whatever it was he was doing.
Edward had been so busy causing mayhem he hadn't seen much of his lover lately. Which was unacceptable. Edward had needs and urges that had no business being allowed to linger and build. So, he'd made a point to make time for his love.
The damn brat had almost killed him, but Edward wasn't going to give up so easily. He might've lost her to the good side, but he still had Jonathan and as long as the Doctor wanted him around, Edward knew he would make a good recovery.
Tempted, Edward lifted his cane and poked at a few things on Jonathan's desk as he waited, growing more and more impatient as well as more and more irritated with pain.
--
“Knock it off,” Jonathan snapped, throwing a file at Edward. He had just seen
Hannibal out of the asylum (and was rather glad Edward hadn’t been around to see his reaction to the man), and was now in a foul mood. “Your daughter was arrested.”
--
Edward only smiled when Jonathan threw the file at him, dodging the flying folder and paperwork easier than usual. He did wince as he sat back and resumed his existence.
"Arrested? Good. She deserves to be locked up for a while. Maybe it'll remind her that she's stupid enough to get caught without us helping her."
Edward already knew he would be going down to get her, but he (like Bruce) wanted her to sit for a while and stew in what she had done.
"How is she?"
--
“Bored, apparently...oh, and she gave herself up...to the Black Canary,” Jonathan stated as he took a seat, not minding that Enigma’s file was actually spread across the room now. “Doctor Lecter went to see her.”
Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a headache that was approaching. “He came to see me after.”
--
Gave herself up. Well that was just great. Eddie's eyes narrowed and his cane came down hard on the desk before he threw the thing across the room. It clattered against the wall and rolled along the floor, over the now scattered papers.
Being caught was one thing (forgivable) but giving yourself up? And to the Black Canary of all people! He was so ashamed.
"And what did you and Dr. Lector chat about?" Eddie inquired, hoping there was something that could ease his mood.
--
Jonathan blinked at the question before shrugging, not looking at Edward. “Enigma, mostly,” he stated, clearing his throat. “So what are you going to do about the teen annoyance?” he asked, changing the subject.
--
Edward watched Jonathan closely. There was something that man was not telling him, Edward could feel it. So patiently he sat and waited to see if Jonathan would say anything else about it.
"Sounds about right." Edward replied. Why wouldn't they talk about Enigma? Or Effie as Edward was now calling her. She didn't deserve an evil name anymore.
"I already tried to kill her. And some how she keeps managing to come back to life. Any suggestions?" Edward was not pleased with the way this was going. Not even the thought of Effie's death was cheering him up.
--
“Kill Damon...that little vampire she hangs around,’ Jonathan said, glad Edward wasn’t going to persue the Hannibal subject. He couldn’t help himself, intelligence made him horny, and Hannibal was brilliant.
“He’s the reason she keeps surviving our attempts.”
--
At the thought of being rid of the vampire, Edward nodded. "I haven't the faintest idea how to kill a vampire, though. It seems easier than it actually is." Edward knew a little about vampires, but not a great deal.
"And there is still the green one." Eddie said with a frown, shifting in his chair. "He keeps helping her too."
Edward did want to know what went on in the conference with Hannibal Lector but it could wait a minute. He was trying to formulate a plan first.
--
“I doubt there is anything you can do with the Hulk, but vampires of mythology are easily killed by stakes to the heart or fire...fire bomb his home with Elena.” Jonathan said with a shrug.
--
Edward thought about it. Considered it.
"Sounds like a good idea. We will try it and see how it goes." Eddie said, relaxing a little bit in his seat.
"Now, I want to hear about your time with Lector. Indulge me, Jonathan."
--
“There’s nothing to indulge, we talked, he left,” Jonathan said. Okay so there may have been a few interesting fantasies in the middle, but still. He was a healthy thirty-year-old male, no one would blame him.
...except maybe Hanni who might eat his face if he ever found out.
And Edward...
---
"So you talked. And he left. Nothing interesting? I hear that he is quite fascinating. That is just rumor of course." Edward replied. He could still feel that perhaps Jonathan was avoiding the subject all together, and while Edward didn't care for that, he couldn't make Jonathan say anything about it either.
--
“He’s brilliant,” Jonathan confirmed. “But I’m not sure about fascinating...”
Engaging, interesting, consuming...maybe.
“He had an interesting take on Enigma’s mental state, but it was business, really.”
--
Edward took a moment to consider what Jonathan had said about Lector. That was a bit interesting, to say the least. But Edward supposed that if he really wanted to know, he would have to find out for himself.
At least someone understood her. It was more than he could say for himself.
--
“So have you ripped out your stitches yet?” Jonathan asked, again changing the subject, studying Edward as if this could tell him everything he wanted to know about his lover...husband..partner...whatever they actually were.
Husband seemed the to-go to choice, all things considered.
--
"Why? Am I bleeding?" Edward asked, casting a glance down at his clothes to double-check. Nope. No blood.
Looking back up at Jonathan, Edward sighed, "No. But I am starting to get a headache." He lifted a hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes for a moment.
Edward shifted again, unable to really get comfortable. "You have to get better chairs in here. These are like rocks." Edward commented, lowering his hand from his face. "I feel like a caveman."
--
“I like to make my guests uncomfortable,” Jonathan said with an arched eyebrow, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “They don’t stay as long.”
Not that he didn’t have a chair just for Edward...he just didn’t bring it upstairs yet. He slipped from his own, very comfortable chair and moved around the desk, sliding onto the surface in front of the man, before leanign forward, gently massaging Edward’s temples. “And no, you’re not bleeding, but I have little faith that you won’t be soon.”
--
Obviously.
"It's genius, but really." Edward replied, waving a hand at the subject. He didn't care about the chairs. It wasn't his office. Edward didn't have an office anymore. He sort of missed having his own space but it wasn't necessary for what he was doing at current.
Edward sighed, watching Jonathan rise and take the space on the desk before him, eyes closing when the man began to rub his temples. One thing Edward loved about Jonathan was the fact that he was so good with his hands. In so many ways.
"Probably." Edward said. He couldn't agree more. He hated being still for too long. Even in his sleep he shifted positions regularly. He wasn't a man who craved rest or settling. Being active made him feel needed, as if he had purpose.
--
“I can tie you to the bed,” Jonathan teased, using his nails to give gentle preasure before moving back to the pads of his fingers, gently moving back towards the man’s scalp, giving a soft sigh of his own as he ran his fingers through Edward’s short, gelled spikes, tilting his head up for a soft kiss.
It was hard to say the words, to tell Edward how he felt...he was broken, too broken to be fixed,but he knew Edward understood...even if he was having fantasies about another man.
--
He wasn't going to object to that offer in the least bit. It was obvious by the smirk that had managed to overcome his serious expression.
"We did that last night though." Edward said, but he wouldn't deny another round.
Edward almost purred at the action of Jonathan's fingers massaging and kneading his scalp, feeling his head being tilted up. Edward opened his eyes as Jonathan's lips touched his and he savored the sweet connection.
Edward knew how broken Jonathan was. Or at least he had some idea. Edward was broken too. They were like two broken toys with interchangeable parts that tried to become one in hopes to be played with and adored once more. Except there was never enough glue to hold the parts together. They made due, and that was the important factor.
--
“Hmm, that we did,” Jonathan agreed, before his lips curved into a smirk more at home under a burlap mask the in the cold office of Arkham’s head doctor. “Though, I never said I would be with you,” Scarecrow purred. “Your old room is still avaible..”
--
Edward made a face. Oh to be teased in such a manner.
"Thanks, but I will pass." Eddie said, shaking his head. He did notice the change when it came, when the Scarecrow appeared in Jonathan's presence.
Eddie never really minded the Scarecrow. Or the Beast for that matter. Honestly, Edward envied it a little. He wished he wasn't as expendible. He knew that one day Jonathan would be peeling him off of the sidewalk, or fishing him out of a trench.
He hoped that day wouldn't come any time soon, but that was his fate for being a gangster. And a human.
--
“I don’t like you,” Scarecrow said, pulling back and crossing his arms over his chest, staring down at Edward. “You are a distraction that should be eliminated.”
It wasn’t the first time Scarecrow had this thought, in fact, that was why he had sicc’d Joker on the man instead of just Enigma, but it was the first time he voiced it to Edward.
--
Edward blinked.
Well, honestly it didn't surprise him.
Edward settled back into the uncomfortable seat and looked up at the Scarecrow with a small grin. "You should end my miserable existence then."
He didn't think Jonathan would actually let Scarecrow hurt him, so playing loosely with the entity didn't phase Edward. He may have been a genius but sometimes he lacked common sense. Most of what he survived was pure luck, more than smarts or wit.
--
Scarecrow hissed, a baring of teeth. “I can’t,” he snapped, looking away from Edward. “Not without someone else to pull the trigger.” It wasn’t Jonathan’s control over him...although that did factor in, but there was something inside Scarecrow that wouldn’t let him fully end Edward by his own hand.
--
Edward had a feeling that would be the reply.
He grinned, almost radiant, and shrugged. "Guess ill just keep on living then." Maybe dying at the hands of the beast that lurked in the shadows of the man he loved wasn't the cleanest way to die, but it would fit him. And he probably deserved it.
But Edward was partially relieved that Scarecrow couldn't outright kill him. Of course, Edward probably would've been dead a long time ago if that had been the case.
Eddie felt that Jonathan had something to do with that decision, but how much Eddie wasn't sure. They hadnt discussed the inner demons in full detail, so anything Edward knew it was from experience and speculation.
--
Scarecrow reached out a foot, raising it and kicking Edward’s chair, smirking as he slammed back against the wall before he slipped from the desk, stalking closer to his other half’s husband.
“You have a very smart mouth, Edward,” he hissed. He leaned into the man, pressing the hell of his hand against Edward’s wound, licking his lips in anticipation.
--
Edward's eyes widened in surprise as his chair flew a bit, from being kicked, making a face at the initial impact though it was slight.
"So I've heard." Eddie replied, not willing to deny that fact. Often Edward would rattle cages blindly, which was what he was doing at present.
When Scarecrow pressed against the wound in his shoulder, Edward hissed in pain. He wasn't afraid of Scarecrow, nor was he afraid to die, but he was in a world of pain.
"Now I think I'm bleeding."
--
“Good,” Scarecrow hissed, reaching up and ripping at the man’s shirt, shreading it and the bandages under. He leaned in, wrapping his mouth around the bleeding wound, sucking and lapping at it, his eyes turned up to look at Edward’s face.
--
How was bleeding good?
Edward made a face as Scarecrow tore through his shirt. Eddie felt a little like Bruce for a split second, shirt in tatters. What a shame. He had liked that one. Ah well.
When Scarecrow's lips found the trickling wound, Edward breathed out a little. It was sort of weird but kind of hot too?
He looked down at Scarecrow as the beast lapped at his skin, unsure exactly of how to feel. His mind often could never really settle on an emotion, but he rarely ever felt true fear.
--
Scarecrow bit down on the wound, before slowly pulling back, Edward’s blood dripping down his lips and chin as he moved to look Edward in the face, before kissing him, slamming Edward’s head back against the wall with the force of the action.
He wanted Edward scared...to beg...but he would accept what he could get for now.
--
Edward's face contorted in pain when Scarecrow bit into his skin, and the stitches, feeling a few pop from the pressure. Great. Now Jonathan was going to have to re-sew them.
Of course, before Eddie could protest he found himself being slammed back against the wall, blood trickling down his lips and chin from the kiss he'd received from Scarecrow.
Edward's vision filled with stars and his head throbbed worse than it had been earlier from the impact.
He breathed out, trying to get his head to stop spinning as his green eyes desperately tried to focus on the man/beast settled before him.
He was in so much pain, but Edward had been through worse. Much worse.
He licked his lips of the blood and finally his vision began to settle.
--
“What do you feel, little Eddie?” Scarecrow sung as he kissed/bit his way to Edward’s ear, straddling his lap, hips rocking slowly. “Do you feel angry? Scared? Horny?”
--
Edward felt Scarecrow crawl into his lap and somehow Eddie managed to loop an arm around the man.
He laughed, despite the pain and pleasure. "I feel...achy and definitely horny." Dear God. Edward wouldn't have believed this would be a turn on but it was. In some weird way.
Of course just looking at Jonathan could do that to him too. But that was normal. This...this was beyond anything Edward considered normalcy.
--
“Wrong answer,” Scarecrow sung, sliding off of Edward and moving for the door, body loose limbed and fluid, so, so different then Jonathan. He glanced at Edward over his shoulder before leaving the room for his office, humming as he walked down the halls, blood still covering his mouth, chin and jacket.
He didn’t really care of Edward followed, but he rather hoped the man did.
--
The only right answer was fear. And Edward didn't feel it. So it wasn't a surprise when Scarecrow left him, but he did feel some disappointment in his ache. And need.
Edward groaned as he moved to stand, hobbling his way over to where his cane was. He leaned over and scooped it from the floor, using it to push himself back into a stand.
His whole body throbbed, his head and shoulder especially. And he was still covered in blood. It was all he could taste.
Slowly, Edward left the office, his head finally beginning to clear. He was following the Scarecrow. Curious as to where it was going and what it was up to.
"Wait up...." Edward breathed, but not loudly or with intent.
--
“No,” Scarecrow called over his shoulder, smirking. He lead Edward down, into the bowls of Arkham, finally unlocking the dusty door that lead to his own, personal office. It was decorated in shades of brown and orange, his two costumes resting on mannequins, waiting for him to change.
Vats of toxin were stacked in a corner, the grimacing jack-o-lantern that was his trademark leering out at Edward. On the walls were various bladed weapons, most of them harkening back towards the agricultural eras and the instruments of work and murder that was created during those times, such as scythes, sickles, and kai’s.
He pulled off his jacket and shirt, tossing them into a corner, rooting through the large wardrobe, pulling on a nearly see through t-shirt.
--
"But baby!" Edward whined, following the beast down the corridor. Unfair.
He followed Scarecrow blindly into the depths of Arkham, a place Edward had been before when he was kidnapped by Jonathan. It wasn't an event Edward wanted to remember, as it had been the pivotal point of the end of their relationship. But they were past all of that.
He descended after the Scarecrow, unaware of the danger that lurked in the darkness. Edward felt Jonathan would protect him so be braved the depths without fear. At least for the moment.
Edward looked at the jack-o-lantern that leered at him, frowning at it, once he was in the same room with the beast.
His eyes also scanned the walls, seeing the instruments of death, and noting the color of the walls.
"Could use a new coat of paint." Edward commented, still smeared with his own blood.
--
“So could you,” Scarecrow hissed, insulted. He liked brown and orange.
He turned, pulling off his belt buckle, staring at Edward. He set the belt aside, allowing his pants to drop, before stepping out of them and into a pair of ragged, brown leather pants that looked as if they had been patched together wrong.
--
"I didn't mean changing the color, dummy. I mean a new coat all together." Edward had picked up on the gist of what he'd said, and how Scarecrow had responded. And of course Enigma got her hard-headed nature from him. Edward all but stuck out his tongue at Scarecrow.
Edward watched as Scarecrow undressed, his need growing some. When the beast had re-adorned clothes, Edward frowned.
"Tease."
--
“You gave the wrong answer,” Scarecrow said, shrugging. “You don’t get anything.” He moved across the room, taking a seat behind his desk, much like Jonathan would, sorting through papers and files, trying to find the formulas he was looking for.
“Still bleeding?”
--
"If you want me to be afraid, then you have to do something about that. Cause I don't really feel fear anymore." Edward replied.
"Yep. Still bleeding." Eddie replied, shuffling over to lean against a wall for a moment to settle. The walk itself had worn him out. It didn't help that he was bleeding, half-naked and starved for need.
He tapped his cane impatiently against the floor and he closed his eyes for a moment.
--
“Sit,” Scarecrow ordered, gesturing to his desk, pulling out a sewing kit over a suturing kit, watching Edward. “I don’t feel arousal without fear,” he stated, waiting for Edward to join him. “And you’re not scary...so you have to be scared.”
--
Edward allowed his eyes to open, and he pushed from the wall, shuffling over to the desk. He settled on it, close to the Scarecrow.
He definitely wasn't scary. That was the cold, hard truth. "I can't be scared without a good reason." Edward explained, as if that was an obvious fact.
--
“And what would be a good reason?” scarecrow asked as he stood, pushing Edward’s shirt scraps away from his chest, threading a needle and leaning it in, starting to stitch the wound without numbing it first, humming to himself.
--
Eddie winced at the pain of the needle pushing through his skin. His feet tapped the floor, legs long enough to reach it even when sitting.
"That would be too easy." Eddie said, trying to focus on something other than the pain.
He couldn't tell Scarecrow what he feared. It would consume him forever if he did. His ego would never allow him to admit weakness, even to the creature that lived in the body of the man he loved.
--
“Mmm...would it be the fact you’re too stupid to know what you’re scared of?” Scarecrow said, knotting the string and starting another stitch, not looking up at the man, too busy focusing on the wound.
--
Edward just smiled.
"Maybe. Or maybe with that attitude you will never find out." Not that Edward would give in that easily. The chase was part of the fun.
Edward's fists balled, trying to have a distraction from the pain, the smile fading into an expression of that pain.
--
“He thought of screwing Lecter,” Scarecrow said suddenly, looking up at Edward. “Of how much better his mouth would be then yours is...how much nicer he would taste.”
--
Edward listened to the confession.
His heart raced suddenly and Edward closed his eyes. That definitely didn't bring him fear, but a great sadness.
Why couldn't he ever just be good enough? God knew he tried.
When Edward opened his eyes again, a small amount of moisture fell from one of them, but he only stared at the wall and said nothing.
--
Scarecrow smirked, humming again. He finished of the stitch, and started on the last one. “Effie doesn’t love you...Jonathan doesn’t love you...poor little Eddie, all alone like a lost and forgotten doll in the attic,” he purred.
--
It was true. Edward did feel that way, like a discarded, forgotten child's plaything. Like he was he newspaper from the day before, waiting to be discarded.
"Just finish it so I can go."
His mood had turned dark, which was never good. He wanted to kill someone, anyone to get the rage out.
--
“Maybe I don’t want to,” Scarecrow said, stopping mid stich. “Maybe I want to keep my broken little toy around a bit longer,” he purred, leaning in to Edward. “You look so pretty when you cry.”
--
"At least someone wants to play." Edward breathed.
He lifted his hands, sliding off the ring Jonathan gave him at the wedding and set it on the desk.
"Then lets play."
He didn't care anymore. The wounds and scars across his heart were burning far worse than any on the surface. Scarecrow could've killed him and Edward wouldn't have cared.
Without Jonathan, he was nothing.
--
Scarecrow froze for a moment, like a film that was paused, before he moved, almost robotically, finishing the stitch, tying it off. “Get out,”
It wasn’t the madman’s sibilant hissing, but Jonathan’s controlled tones. He turned away from Edward, tossing away the bloody needle.
--
Gladly.
Edward said nothing as he moved from the desk. He lifted a hand to his streaming eye, pushing away the moisture as he once again left the man who had yet again managed to rip out what was left of his heart.
It seemed that lower chamber was a love death sentence.
Edward ascended the steps to the upper floor without a word and without looking back. He just wanted to wither away into the air and float into the great above.
Maybe he would just go play in traffic and see if anyone had the guts to hit him with their car.
He made his way down the corridor, headed for the entrance, unsure of exactly where to go.
--
Jonathan doubled over, blue eyes glowing amber, pain lancing through his body. His fingernails extended, hardening, turning to claws, his teeth elongating until he cut his own tongue on them, fear toxin spilling from his lips as his skin started to rip open, withering and dying.
He growled, a low, rumbling sound that shook the asylum as he fought to control himself.
--
Edward felt the rumble as he made his way down the corridor. There was nothing he could do. He didn't want to leave, but he wasn't about to stay there, either.
Not with those words still haunting his very existence.
He'd lost his daughter, and his lover. He had nothing to show for it. Nobody seemed to care anymore and he felt so lost. So empty. And he kept falling for the same tricks again and again.
Was he destined for doom? To be alone forever? A wandering ghost of a man with no peace?
It seemed that way.
--
Jonathan was curled into a ball against the wall, clawing at his own body, desperate to keep from turning, but his control was slipping away faster and faster. The more damage he did to his own body, the more control scarebeast gained, and Jonathan knew he didn’t have enough time to get out of there, to get to his office.
And being so far down in the basements and tunnels of Arkham, turning into the beast would bring the hospital down around them, and while the City would rebuild..here would be no one left to rebuild it for.
--
Eddie was torn. He knew the beast was coming, the rumbling proved that. But he also knew that he couldn't get out in time to live.
Maybe he didn't want to live anymore, but his mind was telling him he needed to salvage what was left of himself and survive.
Edward picked up pace, shoulder itching and burning from the suture, but he ignored it for the moment. The mist in his eye seemed to have dried up for the moment as well.
Edward reached Jonathan's office, throwing his cane on the floor to get it out of the way. It was only burdening his task.
Finally, Edward got hold of the tranquilizer that was needed to calm the beast, much as it would the Hulk. Satisfied, Edward grabbed the gun as well, loaded it and then left the office.
It was only a matter of moments before he was back in the basement, the winding depths of Arkham, standing in front of the cowering doctor.
"I hate you." Edward growled, lifting up the tranquilizer gun, firing it at Jonathan.
He should've let the man change. Should've let the people here die, himself included, but he couldn't.
--
Jonathan looked up as Edward returned, blood drenching his body from where he had clawed at himself, leaving open giant, gaping wounds, before he was hit with the tranqualizer, slumping to the side, the parts of his body that had shifted slowly returning back to his normal form as he lay there bleeding.
--
He lowered the gun as the change stopped, frowning at the form of his lover as Jonathan slumped over on to the floor.
With that, Eddie tossed the gun onto the floor at his feet and turned away.
He was exhausted, and in a good amount of pain. He would have to come back for his things later. He was far too weary to worry about moving anything.
--
It took hours for Jonathan to waken again and he rolled over, groaning in pain, vomiting on the floor, before falling back down, just barely missing landing in his own sick. His shoulders shook, from pain, from stress, from the trauma of everything.
Forcing himself back over, he stared at the ceiling of Scarecrow’s office, swallowing thickly.
Edward should have just killed him.
--
In the hours it had taken for Jonathan to awaken, Edward had managed to make his way back to where his clothes were, change and leave the asylum completely.
He couldn't stay there. Not a minute longer.
He sat in the warehouse, staring at a couple of electrocuted corpses, unhappy. He hated everything.
He should've let Jonathan change. The death that would've come was a blessing. Now he was cursed, sitting in a place that held no meaning.
--
Jonathan managed to slide across the office, curled into a small ball in a corner, slowly bleeding to death...or at least back into unconsciousness. He didn’t bother to try to stop the bleeding, though it seemed to being doing that on it’s own...whether from clotting or just lack of blood he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t really care.
He was clutching Edward’s ring, tears he didn’t even feel staining his cheeks as he stared blankly at the wall.
--
Jonathan should've just outright murdered Edward to save him the pain. But Eddie had ample time to think. He was pissed and stewing in the confession.
He hated to think he wasn't even good enough for his....well, whatever they were now.
But he wanted straight answers.
It prompted Edward to move, finally. His body was stiff from the pain of the stitches, but he moved nonetheless, determined.
If Jonathan didn't want this, then Eddie had no choice but to accept it. But he could only hope that Jonathan would be honest with him. Hiding things only made it worse, par example.
He left the Warehouse and took his car back to the asylum, meaning to get a few things and check on Jonathan. He may have hated him, but he couldn't let him go completely.
In a matter of a few moments, Edward found himself staring down at Jonathan. The pool of blood the other man was laying in was justified.
But Edward hated to see Jonathan in such a state. Even if they weren't together, they still had a history. And despite his better judgement and his ego, Edward approached Jonathan and knelt down, looking him over.
Eddie wasn't a doctor by any means, so any healing Jonathan would need would have to come from another source. Edward could mend and suture. But that was only because he'd been shot so many times.
He reached out and touched Jonathan, before closing his own eyes for a moment, the pain and hate surging back like a tidal wave.
--
Jonathan looked up at Edward, jerking back from his touch, an instinctive reaction leftover from his youth when any touch was his grandmother trying to hurt him. He blinked slowly, Edward’s face coming into focus and he turned away, clutching tighter at the man’s ring in his hand, the tears on his cheeks flowing faster.
“Why?” he whispered.
--
The reaction didn't please Edward in the slightest. It was obvious by the frown Edward was offering.
He pulled back his hand and sighed.
"I could ask you that same question." Edward breathed, displeased. "Why. Why...why...why. Why does this always seem to happen to me? Why does the world hate me?" Edward inquired, though the tone of his voice was flat and monotone.
His green eyes looked dull, without life.
"Why." He whispered. "It's the million dollar question."
--
“You’re the one who left me!” Jonathan yelled, his eyes flashing in anger. “I didn’t do anything!”
--
Edward offered Jonathan a smile.
"I did. You're right. Scarecrow told me a funny story earlier. It was about you and a certain doctor."
Edward wasn't in the mood to go back over the details, but apparently opening old wounds was something he was good at. Pouring salt in them was something he was good at too.
--
Jonathan looked at him, confused. “Doctor? Hanni? I told you what happened, Edward, we talked, mostly about Enigma. He did her psychological evaluation since I’m related to her. As the director of Arkham he was required to share it with me.”
--
"And you didn't imagine what it was like to be with him, at all?" Edward said, softly. Just the mere thought of Jonathan lusting after anyone else, especially someone better like Hannibal, made Eddie feel angry and very small.
--
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “It was a fantasy, Edward, nothing more or less. Hannibal has no interest in me and I’m marri...was married. You cannot tell me you haven’t had a single fantasy about anyone else, because I really won’t believe you.”
--
"He said you don't love me, either." Edward breathed. That was what really got him.
"And you should still tell me about that stuff." Eddie said, processing the information.
"I don't, actually. Fantasy really isn't my thing. Believe it or don't."
--
“I love you as much as I can love anyone, Edward...which is very limited as you well know,” Jonathan said, before snorting. “Fine, I had a fantasy of Hannibal reading a list of phobias while I blew him, happy? It was an idle daydream, meant nothing. You are always the one I chose above all else.”
--
Edward listened.
He didn't care much for that image, but at least Jonathan was being honest about it. He still felt small and hurt, but the pain was giving way.
"Next time I'd appreciate it if I didn't have to hear it from your beast." Eddie said, looking at the floor for a moment.
His shoulder burned, and he made a face but that didn't matter.
--
“Scarecrow isn’t the beast,” Jonathan said, his voice broken as he thought of Scarebeast. “Trust me.”
--
Beast. Creature. Man. Whatever it was, Edward still didn't think that was the way to go about discovering something. Fantasizing was normal. But maybe fear was normal too. The fear of losing Jonathan completely, to someone better, smarter and more capable. That was Eddie's deepest fear.
"I might." Edward replied casually, reaching over to touch Jonathan's moist cheeks gently. He brushed away the wetness with a finger, sighing softly to himself.
Finally, also against his better judgement, Edward apologized. "I'm sorry. I guess my insecurities got the better of me. It's....difficult to hear something like that about someone you...care about." He said, licking his lips. "Someone you love."
Love was such a fickle word, but it had a lot of meaning. Strength. Security. Especially when you didn't feel a lot of it. It was all Edward had to give.
"Forgive me?" Eddie inquired. He wouldn't have been surprised if Jonathan completely refused to forgive him, but neither of them were entirely to blame. Edward was trying to make amends.
--
“No,” Jonathan said grumpily, glaring at Edward before pouting. “Ask me when I’m not bleeding to death and ready to use your head as a serving bowl.” In spite of his words, Jonathan held out Edward’s ring, waiting for the man to take it.
--
Eddie just smiled and laughed softly. "I'll keep that in mind for later, when you're feeling better."
He reached out and took the ring, putting it on and extending his hands out to Jonathan, meaning to help the man to his feet.
"Come on. It's been a long day. Lets go get cleaned up and plot the death of my daughter and her husband." Those things always cheered him up.
--
“Going to hurt you when I stop bleeding,” Jonathan warned him, holding out his hands to be helped up before leaning on Edward. “Take me to to the medical wing,” he murmured.
---
"I wouldn't expect any less from you, baby." Edward replied softly. He wouldn't hold it against Jonathan. Pain seemed to be their way of expressing what they were feeling. It had an impact that words never could.
Edward took Jonathan's hands and helped him to his feet slowly, curling an arm around his husband. He lead him from the basement office, back to the first floor, taking the time and care Jonathan needed so as not to make the situation worse.
He guided Jonathan to the Medical Wing of the Asylum, letting the nurses there take hold of him and see to his wounds. Eddie would wait in the background, like a shadow, for updates while Jonathan was patched up and resting.
--
Jonathan leaned heavily against Edward as they walked, not speaking, letting his clinging say everything he needed. Beyond all the fear, all the danger...Jonathan was nothing more than the same scared little boy hiding in a Georgian cornfield, wishing desperately for someone, anyone to love him, making friends out of a battered old Scarecrow because there was nothing else.
“Hate you,” he said again, his voice thick with the long lost accent he worked hard to keep buried, wiping at his eyes, resting his head on Edward's shoulder.
He gave a whimper as he was pulled away by his nurses, wanting Edward with him, even as he knew the other man would just get in the way, instead, he simply closed his eyes, blocking everything out.
--
Eddie didn't mind the clinging as they walked. He adored it, in fact. It made him feel wanted, needed, and he wasn't going to stop it. Eddie made sure to support Jonathan with an arm as they walked. His shoulder still throbbed from earlier, but he didn't notice as much.
When Jonathan spoke, Eddie grinned. "Love you too baby." He did. More than anything, and he could never really show the man he was supporting. No matter how much he might want to.
Edward almost growled at the nurses as they pulled Jonathan away, but he relinquished his hold and allowed them finally to take him. He needed their help.
He followed after like a pup would its master, unable to be too far from his lover. Wounded, they both were. But they would recover like always and life would go on.