Doctor Jonathan Crane (i_fear) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2013-08-26 14:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | edward nigma, enigma, jonathan crane, zz:status complete |
The Fear of Love (Eddie/Scarecrow w/Effie Log)
(Note: NSFW: mentions of torture, blood, gore, domestic abuse and creepy rhymes that involve dead children)
Edward grunted as he sat in the office of the Asylum, one he knew all too well. There were one hundred and fifty tiles on the ceiling, the carpet was in pristine condition, the oak desk had many a stab mark or blemish from a bullet fired into it. Everything about the room said volumes to the man it belonged to.
The man that had managed to capture and hold Edward’s heart. Or what was left of it.
The couch had seemed the suitable seat of option, considering his condition.
He was still pissed that he had been sedated by Jonathan and despite feeling bad for shooting his partner, Edward chalked it up to having been deserved.
How was Eddie supposed to know there were tranquilizers in the gun instead of actual bullets? It was self-defense and an accident. Edward was full of accidents, but it didn’t matter.
Soon his plans would come to fruition and he could be happy. Once he had a dominant legacy, he could rest easier and take things slower. The climax was long-coming, but he would revel all the same when the moment came.
He breathed out a sigh of hope for things to come, and rubbed his long fingers absently over his re-set injury.
--
Scarecrow watched the man from the doorway, stroking his chin. Jonathan had wanted Edward to slow down, to think, and was using his friend to accomplisht hat via Effie, but there was so much more that could be done, if only Jonathan had the stomach for it.
Thankfully, Scarecrow did happen to have the stomach for it. The joys of not actually caring for the man.
“You’re in my office,” he hissed, taking a seat at the desk, moving a few items out of his way before staring at Edward, his long fingers steepled over his chin. “I that wise?”
--
Being slow was never part of how Edward was. He didn't like slow, it made for second guessing and mistakes. He wasn't a turtle, he was a rabbit. A jackrabbit and he always hit the ground running with whatever it was he was doing. Literally and figuratively.
Edward glanced at Scarecrow when he heard that unmistakable voice, only able the shrug and smirk.
"Probably not but you weren't using it. Figured you wouldn't mind sharing for a little bit when it was empty."
His fingers continued to knead absently at the cast that encircled his leg, before allowing his hands to be placed back casually into his lap.
Wise probably wasn't a word Eddie ever used to describe any aspect of his life. Reckless...probably stupid. Never wise.
--
“I don’t share, you shouldn’t know that by now,” Scarecrow said, standing against, circling around the desk to stare down at Edward. He reached down, tracing one of those fingers down his nose, before smirking. “You are a very stupid man, little Riddle,” he said, leaning in and biting at Edward’s lips, not hard, but enough that his point was made.
He then punched Edward to knock him unconscious.
--
Another shrug. Always so casual was Edward. He had gotten sloppy in his recent years, and allowed himself the disadvantage of vulnerability. Something he would never ultimately admit to.
When Scarecrow touched him, first with the finger and then the biting at his lips, Edward straightened just a fraction.
Eddie had opened his mouth to say something that Scarecrow probably could've predicted and more than likely didn't want to hear, before Edward was silenced by the punch.
It was clear vision one moment, and pitch black the next. Eddie hadn't seen it coming at all. Honestly he felt invincible around the Scarecrow believing wholly that Jonathan wouldn't let it hurt him.
Oh how wrong he had been.
--
Scarecrow giggled as he watched Edward’s head fall to the side, humming contentedly as he skipped to find some of the orderlies he had hypnotized, getting them to carry Edward down even further into the depths of Arkham, one of his play rooms that had been far too long neglected.
He chained Edward upright to supports, tugging on them to make sure they were nice and tight...and far above the man’s head before he starting preparing, waiting for Edward to awaken again.
As Scarecrow started to prepare, his humming turned slowly into singing. “Little Arthur, while alive, was seldom prone to folly. Until the day he stole away, and licked a poisoned lollie…”
--
Edward slumped in the chair he had been utilizing after the blackout, unaware that he had been so readily betrayed. Never in a million years would he have guessed this was prone to happen. That was what happened when you let yourself get too out of control.
It felt like ages, the darkness. But finally Edward began to stir. He groaned with pain as his head throbbed from the punch he'd taken.
His mouth felt dry and far too wet all in the same moment, and he forced his eyes to open.
He heard singing. Singing? And it wasn't a very pretty song.
He shifted, hearing the clank of chains. Chains and the feel of straps of some kind. What was this?
The pupil of his eyes dilated for a moment. Fear. Then his vision cleared and he looked around the room slowly to try to figure out what had happened.
--
"Baby Jane, poor Baby Jane, she wandered off into the rain. For weeks we hoped and prayed in vain, just wishing she'd turn up again. We searched the river, searched the streams, and dreamt of her in wistful dreams. The moon did wax, the moon did wane, but still no sign of Baby Jane…”
Scarecrow had heard the clanking of the chains behind him, turning to smile at Edward. He had left off his mask, but was dressed in the patched brown leather pants, cream shirt and leather doublet he wore on nights when he was out terrorizing Gotham, curenty strapping on the needled gauntlet that he had started wearing most recently. He gave a hum that was off key to his current song, before returning to his work of filling the Fear Toxin reservore on his forearm, dismissing the bound man.
“When summer died and autumn came, they found her in a sewage drain,
(At least the parts that did remain), of lovely little Baby Jane. We buried her on a cloudy day, beneath a sky so cold and grey, and wished and prayed we had her near, and cried such lonesome, tragic tears…”
He finished, screwing the reservoir onto the gauntlet, stretching his fingers, watching as the needles moved and clanked together, deformed claws of terror, before he turned, watching Edward again, this mind obviously spinning over thoughts and ideas, so many things he could do to the man who shared his Other’s life.
“Perhaps we wished and prayed too hard, for now I see her in the yard, and in the mirror, on the stairs... Sometimes it seems she's everywhere! She grins her silent, moldy grin, and beckons me to let her in by scratching at the window pane whenever it begins to rain. I think she wants one final hug, but I just can't get past the bugs. Our blessing has become our bane; The spectre of our Baby Jane."
He slid from his stool, giving a lopsided, boneless walk as he moved closer to Edward, oh so lightly running the tips of the needles over Edward’s cheek, the last words of the morbid little rhyme slipping from his lips. He didn’t press in yet, just a brush of the needle, not a full taste, before giggling wildly.
--
His vision finally cleared and adjusted, the haze lifting like a moldy curtain from before his eyes and he glanced up to see the raggedy dressed form of the Scarecrow. And it was singing. This wasn't good.
Edward pushed any fear he had deep down into him and looked at the other, "Spooky, let me outta here." He struggled with the restraints, despite that creepy singing that was still hitting his ears.
He was like a bug caught in the web of a very deadly spider and Eddie didn't like feeling so small and helpless. He knew it wasn't a nightmare because it felt too real. Too crazy.
And the touch of those needle tips against his cheek confirmed that.
Eddie swallowed uncomfortably and pulled at the restraints, a feeble attempt for freedom. "This isn't funny. Let me go!" His voice was full of exhaustion from the punch, pain and defiance.
But not yet fear.
--
Scarecrow blinked slowly, staring at Edward as if none of his words made sense, before giggling again, lightly patting the man’s cheek. “When poor Little Annie sat down on her swing,
She never suspected a bite or a sting, but Hazel's pet spider was hungry that day,
- and pleased that poor Annie had come out to play!”
He drew back his good (and un-needled fist), punching Edward in the stomach, letting out another manic little giggle.
--
Edward reeled at the punch. A breath of air left his lungs and his body bent, trying to double over but he found himself restrained.
"W-what the fuck?" He managed in a labored breath, his eyes squeezing shut to mask the pain.
He gasped as his body began to slowly recover, forcing his eyes to open. This wasn't a fair fight. Edward would murder Jonathan if it was, so that was probably why Scarecrow had restrained him. Unfair but smart. Very smart.
The pain swam in his head and his eyes, pupils dilating once more with the faintest traces of actual fear.
--
Scarecrow gave a happy hum as he saw those first traces of fear, leaning in to lick over Edward’s lips before skipping back to his work table, sitting again. He pulled out a sewing kit, opening it to retrieve a needle and a thick piece of black thread.
He shifted, turning so Edward could watch as he pursed his lips in a kiss, or what Effie would call a ‘duck face’, inserting the needle into the bottom of his lower lip, up through the flesh and into the top lip, humming as he reversed the moment, blood dripping from them as he started to stitch his own mouth shut, much like his mask.
--
Snapping into reality, Eddie began to violently shake against the restraints in efforts to free himself. His body ached and throbbed. He wanted out. It wasn't funny anymore.
When he stopped, Eddie noticed the Scarecrow was close. The way the other's tongue traced his lips revolted Eddie. He tried pulling back from the gesture but again was restrained.
It wouldn't have mattered anyway, Scarecrow had retreated.
Edward groaned at watching Scarecrow sew Jonathan's lips closed, and not in a good way. It was more of a distressed sound. This wasn't any fun at all.
"It's not too late to let me go....walk away, you know." Perhaps it was a fleeting plea but he had to try it. He had to. Knowing it would fail even before it had left his lips.
--
Scarecrow ignored the man as he stretched his mouth open slightly, continuing to sew, but not enough to keep his mouth shut. He tied off the thread with an ugly, blood coated knot, moving his mouth around a bit before giggling again. “Waiting in the shadows, it doesn't need reason or rhyme. Death waits for us all, it is only a matter of time. He who hath take lives without any remorse, an end to it all is just par for the course. "That is not dead, which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die."
Satisfied with his work, he stood again, swaying slightly, the pain from his lips leaving him happily light headed and floaty, a state that showed as he moved back towards Edward. He reached down to his thigh, pulling free one of his ever present sickles, lightly placing it against Edward’s throat, the too sharp tip biting into the skin slightly. He traced a slow line, miming slitting the man’s throat, before leaning in, the very tip of his tongue darting between the threads to taste the blood he drew, Edward mixing with Jonathan’s blood, a sweet ambrosia on his tongue.
--
Edward couldn't help but shiver at the song, knowing it too well that the rhyme spoke truth. The end came for everyone, good and bad. And Edward would never let himself believe it would've come to him this way. Without a fight. Like a child's toy.
When Scarecrow approached, Edward tried to lean backwards, away, but he was met once more with restraint.
At the sharp feel of the blade as it pressed to the skin of his throat, Edward tensed. His lips bared back from his teeth in a snarl and if he could've kicked Scarecrow away he would've.
He felt sick, revolted, like he would vomit up his entire life and leave it to dry on the floor.
"I hate you." Eddie managed, eyes narrowed into painful, hateful narrow slits.
--
Scarecrow gave his best blown kiss wit his sewn lips, before turning the sickle around, sliding it down Edward’s chest, watching as the buttons of the man’s shirt popped off against the blade, baring his chest.
“There was a little Riddle, a man of bravo and energy wrong. He cringed, and feared, pretending to be so strong. But the masks would fall, the little Riddle dead, because of a Scarecrow, locked in his head…”
Scarecrow examined the long expanse of pale skin before him, tracing a few of the scars already on his canvas before moving, stabbing the sickle into Edward’s side, dragging it up in an ‘S’ shape.
--
Edward winced as the buttons were sliced from the front of his shirt, finding the gesture hauntingly familiar. Jonathan had done that same thing when they were curled up so lovely together in the orchard. Now, Edward was sick with the thought he let the other man get that close.
At the next rhyme, Eddie froze and swallowed thickly. The foreboding of those words....his hate turned into a small amount of pure fear.
When the blade of the sickle met his skin, Edward choked. The pain was intense. It wasn't though he'd never felt intense pain before but usually it was from bullets or being hit with a Batarang. Not a sickle or a sharp object.
He gasped and cried out in pain, face covered in sweat from the exertion of the events all taking place at once.
The burning and torn skin throbbed, and Edward found himself moist from the waist down. Blood spilled from the 'S' shaped wound. He continued to choke on the reality, gasping for breath and struggling to stay conscious.
"Why?" He gurgled the question, eyes tilted at Scarecrow.
--
“Pain is good,” Scarecrow stated, the first words that weren’t a twisted rhyme since Edward had woke up. “Pain will keep you alive,” the words were sung, Scarecrow leaning in to drag the tip of his tongue over the wound before he bounced away, almost falling over from his own high.
“He wants you to cry and to fear and to stop...he can’t, so I will.”
Scarecrow loaded one of his empty finger syringes with a shot of adrenaline, intent on using the drug to keep Edward awake as he bounced back over to the man, giggling and grinning as he stabbed Edward’s thigh with his finger, injecting the drug.
“Fear, little Riddle,” he purred, pressing against the man. “Fear me! Fear everything!”
--
Eddie shook his head defiantly, trying desperately to stay conscious. It was a struggle but the shot of adrenaline helped him.
Eddie gasped for air, body surging with energy. He felt stronger, more aware and awake with the drug flowing through him. How long it would stay in his system because of the blood loss, he wasnt sure, but he would use it while it was there.
"Pain is life. I already knew that, stupid." Pain was how Edward defined his existence. It's how he felt real and stable in his reality.
He struggled, trying to get away from Scarecrow, from everything. He just wanted to be left alone to die. But that was too easy.
"I hate you. I will NEVER fear you." He growled, pulling hard at the restraints. His body was tense, rigid as he fought, trying to get away despite knowing he couldn't be free.
--
“More fear!” Scarecrow called cheerily, skipping over to a long forgotten fireplace, humming as he turned on the gas, lighting it, setting a long iron rod in the flames, giggling maniacally. “I’m going to fuck Hannibal,” he said, almost out of the blue as he watched the dancing flames.
“I’m going to smother Jonathan, burying him so deep down that he will never think again, safe and content in his little hole, and then I’m going to take Hanni down here...days and days of just him and me.”
--
Eddie choked at the thought. It was horrible and it caused Edward to writhe in the restraints out of hatred. "You're a damned liar." The words escaped in a breath, a hiss.
Eddie’s heart fluttered, racing from the drug trying to keep himself awake and fighting. He didn't notice the tears that were streaming from his eyes, down his cheeks...the salt water mixing with the blood puddled on the floor around his feet.
He knew that if Scarecrow would do something like this, it was capable of doing something like that with Hannibal. "Not Jonathan. He's too precious....I love him. Don't hurt him."
It was a fleeting comment. He just had to say it. Put it out there to be considered and dismissed.
His body was working harder than it had to, constantly fighting the restraints and trying to break free. He felt so helpless. Hurting Scarecrow meant Jonathan would suffer too and Eddie didn't want that, so he was at an unfair advantage, but he wanted Jonathan safe. More than anything.
--
“Sleeping little Spooky…” Scarecrow sung as he reached towards the iron bar, checking the temperature of it, appreciating the red glow of the iron. He ignored the fact his hand was blistering and burning, turning back to Edward.
“He needs to sleep...too weak and boring.”
--
"No. You need to die. You're bad for him. You're terrible, in fact. And he's so much better without you." Eddie almost spat his words, mouth still dry and moist at the same time. He felt like one of the earlier punches he'd taken had knocked something loose, but he didn't care just then.
He ceased wiggling, unknowingly having pulled his shoulder out of socket from the defiant, hard struggle, the adrenaline keeping the pain away.
He glared at Scarecrow, "Im going to find a way to murder you when I get out of here."
--
“Can’t murder me without doing him too,” Scarecrow sang, giggling. Of course, there were ways, medications and therapies, but Edward wouldn't know that, in fact, the only person who would rather liked him...and he doubted Edward would talk with Hannibal.
With those words, Scarecrow sunk the red hot bar into Edward’s thigh, giggling manically again, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
--
Edward was aware. But that didn't mean he couldn't think about it. And perhaps Hannibal was the innocent in all of this, a name used as a method of making another feel inferior but that didn't mean Edward liked him.
Eddie gasped when the poker was pressed against his thigh, able to feel the skin and fabric of his pants melting together. His eyes closed and his jaw fell agape to release a scream of pain.
--
Scarecrow giggled at the scream of pain, clapping his hands together, a shock of pain running up his arm from his own burns before he skipped back to the fireplace, returning the poker, the smell of burning flesh filling the small room as he moved back to Edward, poking at the new wound.
Satisfied, he pulled his sickle out again, eager to carve another mark against the man. He giggled as he raised it, intending to gut Edward, only to crumple on the ground, Effie standing behind him.
The girl was shaking violently, her eyes red and tear stained, her shirt ruined. She looked up at her father, rage in her eyes, along with a profound sadness. “You lied to me,” she said, dropping the metal pipe she had used to knock Scarecrow unconscious before grabbing the keys from Scarecrow’s work table and running to her father, eager to release the man.
--
Edwards head spun. The pain was too much. He gurgled, hanging there limply, waiting for the pain to take him completely. He could smell the pungent odor of charred skin, and it made him sick.
He didn't notice Scarecrow was down on the floor, forcing his eyes to open at the sound of Effie's voice. He lifted his head slowly, watching the double vision of her blurry outline.
"To protect you." He managed to breathe, his eyes falling closed again, "Because....love you...."
She was all Edward had left. His daughter.
And it seemed she would be the one getting all of his arrangements together when he finally succumbed to the darkness that waited for him with its arms open.
--
“Yeah yeah,” she said, staring up at him for a moment before groaning at the act she was about to do. She shifted, putting her shoulder against his upper stomach, the only place he wasn’t wounded before releasing his chains, grunting as he fell against her, almost dropping herself. “Heavy…”
She wrapped her arms around his legs, struggling to stand again, before carefully making her way out of the basement room, carrying her father to his salvation, rather than his ending.
--
Edward allowed the pain to take him. He fell into an unconscious state, numbed by the pain and the fading adrenaline, unable to hold on anymore. His heart continued to beat, and with every pump blood poured from his injuries.
He lay limply as his daughter carried him, lost in the reality of the subconscious.
This was a lesson learned, one could only cheat death for so long before it came to collect on the debt owed. Eddie's time had come to pay up, and his fine was a grand one.