Chapter Text
Jonathan Crane was having a good day.
His latest batch of fear toxin had shown an increase in potential potency and his suspicions that it would be his most impressive output thus far had been supported by the human testing he had already conducted. Unlike previous tests, this toxin had the unexpected side-affect of inducing a mild paralysis when the toxin was in full effect and this new feature had made his criminal exploits considerably easier to unfold since the paralytic agent prevented too much interference from its victims.
That said, he had suffered through a few rather close calls with recent patients who had turned aggressive while under the effects of the toxin and he had found himself being forced to remove them from the testing process before they could do any real damage to himself or his lab.
But progress was progress.
It was a shame really.
His recent escape from Arkham Asylum, two weeks previously, had been a very low-key affair and it had not taken him long to get his affairs in order. Now? He had reached that point where laying low was tediously boring. There was only so much entertainment his new accommodation could provide him while he was barred from accessing his old supplies. Plus, he had a very real need to replenish his funds, and while participants and lab equipment could be carefully stolen from unsuspecting labs, certain chemicals had to be imported and that came at a hefty price.
Hefty enough to have forced him to lower himself to petty theft.
Bank robberies, historically speaking, were not his forte.
He was a scientist, not a thief, and he didn't enjoy the physical and risk aspects of such a public crime. Generally, if he were in desperate need of money he would work with another rogue in order to avoid the majority of the heavy lifting. Unfortunately, his usual associates weren't available at the minute since both Croc and Dent were still being held within the Asylum and Selina was still avoiding him since he had made a misjudged attempt to dose her with his toxin during a heated debate.
The scars from that encounter would grace his body until the day they planted him to meet his maker.
However, the thing that was annoying him above all else was that his preferred partner to work with was roaming free within the city and would be happy to help him if he simply asked for it. The hesitation came from his pride, which dictated that he was still too furious to even consider asking for his assistance and thus, he had been forced to commit this robbery alone without support.
Jervis had been kind enough to procure the banks vault codes for him in exchange for a promise of help on a future project and he had agreed easily. When he had a semblance of lucidity, Jervis was actually one of the few rogues he enjoyed knowing in a social sense; although this did mean having to deal with the occasional episode from the other man.
Getting his toxin into the bank ventilation system was not difficult and it also ensured that the bank tellers would be too pre-occupied with their usual tasks to notice the silent danger and trigger any alarms. Experience had proven that it worked with more efficiency than any hand-held weapon ever could.
He had even timed his entrance to perfection and it was a glorious sight to behold.
Since it was almost the end of the working day, the bank itself was almost deserted of customers with only a few unfortunate late-comers who had been caught by the toxin along with the staff. Around two dozen wailing and screaming victims were dotted across the main hall of the bank, some huddled against the walls in a vain attempt to hide from paper monsters, while most had just collapsed into a pile on the floor.
It was almost impossible to keep the satisfied smile which made its way onto his face as he took in the wonderful sight.
It was not very often he conducted an attack on such a diverse and numerous audience and, against his better judgement, he decided to take his time.
Walking slowly through the bank, he wove among the silently screaming victims, their paralysis preventing them from any rash movement, only pausing to give each individual a few moments of his time as he made a mental note of how they were responding to the fear toxin. Thus far he had come across nothing of particular interest, most seemed to have stereotypical fears which didn't excite him that much. Spiders and heights were the flavour of the month, as always.
However, as he passed one of the men on the floor he was able to pick up him gibbering quietly something about balloons and he paused at his side to study him.
“Globophobia, that's uncommon.”
Bending down, he snatched the man's wallet from his rear pocket and took a quick note of his personal details in the small pad which he kept on the inside pocket of his costume at all times. Returning the wallet, minus the bills, he made another quick note that he would, time providing, be making a private house call to this particular patient for further testing.
He was too engrossed in the fallen man to notice the woman who was inching her way towards the door.
This teller had been inside the vault at the time of the attack and she had inadvertently avoided the worst of it, choosing to hide amongst the stacks of notes when she realised that something was amiss within her workspace.
She had been carefully trying to avoid the man who was currently examining one of her dropped colleagues when her foot caught on a loose wire.
Connected to one of the many telephones, it was pulled free of the table and the cursed thing clattered to the floor with a distinctive bang in the quiet of the room.
Alerted by the sound, Jonathan stood up fully and whirled around at the source of the noise.
Squeaking in pure fear the woman darted for the front entrance, her short heels clacking against the tiled floor with a frantic pace. Pulling at the door to the foyer, it swung open for her and she continued her escape.
She was less than a foot over the threshold when she felt something hard smash into the side of her temple and she was immediately thrown into darkness as she collapsed to the floor in an unmoving heap.
Eyes widened in surprise as the woman fell back into the doorway, Jonathan watched as she slumped to the ground in an undignified manner, apparently unconscious as a small patch of growing blood began to spread across the tile below her head.
He studied the body for a second longer, confusion apparent, before he heard the door open again as Edward Nygma strolled in as if he owned the place, twirling his freshly-bloodied cane in one hand.
“You missed one!” Edward called out obnoxiously as he paused in the entranceway to use the hanging ends of the woman's jacket to clean the blood off his cane, “Lucky Eddie was here to save the day, eh?” He asked, not expecting an answer.
“Edward!” Jonathan exclaimed, voice little more than a hiss, “What are you doing here?” He forcibly shoved down the slight pleasure which sparked at seeing the other man, reminding himself that he was not in the place to entertain any of Edward's stupid plans in his current mood.
“Nothing much. Just thought I would pay a visit to my favourite doctor and see how he was doing.” Edward replied. “Since he's not made the effort to come and see me since he escaped from the asylum.” He muttered under his breath, with enough volume for Jonathan to hear. “But that's okay, I'm sure you have a great excuse and I am just dying to hear it over an expensive Italian dinner. Your treat.” He bounced across the main lobby, the spring in his step almost boyish in its sincerity.
“Don't even think about it.” Jonathan mumbled as he used his hand to push Edward away and continue his path towards the open vault.
He was just starting to move the bundles of cash into the large bag he had carried with him when he felt Edwards' presence directly behind him.
“What is it, Edward?” He asked politely, refusing to give him any real attention.
“Are you still angry with me? You're being totally unreasonable.” Edward huffed. “But that is to be expected I suppose. You are just failing to see how great that plan was supposed to be. How was I supposed to know we would be rumbled?”
“Because of you, Edward, I was forced to spend over a month in the asylum for what should have been a simple experiment. You and your obsession with leaving clues ruined months of intricate planning. Not only that but in my absence, my favourite lair has now become overrun with vines which I am currently unable to remove.” Jonathan answered, bitterness coating every word.
Chuckling as he helped Jonathan to pack the money away, Edward was amused. If there was one thing they both shared, it was a general disdain for all things flora, “What does my dear Pamela have against you now? Did you steal more of her prized petunias?”
Jonathan fought the smirk which threatened to break across his face, “Ivy may or may not have suspected that I was responsible for the removal of some extremely rare hallucinogenic plants from one of her greenhouses.”
“Were you?”
“Of course I was. So I imagine that's why she's taken it upon herself to punish me for that perceived slight. So, to get back to my point, because of you, I now have no lair, no resources and very little money. If I am to be totally honest, you are extremely lucky that I do not have any spare toxin on me at the moment or you would be down with the other patients.” He gestured to the multiple victims who were still writhing on the floor.
Edward's expression shifted delicately as he glanced at the fallen bodies.
He had been on the receiving end of Jonathan's toxin more times that he cared to.
While they had been acquaintances, the scientist had seemed to take great joy in dosing him when he was not expecting it and Edward had a feeling that Jonathan found his fears more interesting that he would ever confess to. However, as their unconventional friendship had grown into something more complicated those instances had become much rarer but still, once in a while and usually during an argument, he would feel the sting of a needle or a slight choking sensation before he was confronted with hellish visions of his bastard father for a few hours.
He also had a sneaking suspicion that Jonathan used a less potentially lethal dose on him than his other victims to ensure that he did not run too much risk of killing him. However, he knew better than to ask since he would probably receive an extra strong dose just to prove him wrong.
It was not an ideal relationship.
Between Jonathan's clear enjoyment of poisoning him with that bastard gas of his and his own enjoyment of introducing his cane to the bone of Jonathan's skull in response, they were a destructive pair. On top of that, the verbal acidity between them was to be both admired and feared as neither knew when to give up their ground, even to their own detriment.
Did they love each other?
No.
It wasn't love and frankly both men didn't think that they were capable of such a thing.
But there was something akin to affection, something real and genuine enough to prevent them from doing any real lasting or permanent damage to the other.
If Edward had to put a start date on their unique set-up, it would have been over a year ago when the pair had been forced to live together in a tiny safe-room he owned in West Gotham for a week to avoid the Batman who was hunting them after a failed robbery at Wayne Enterprises.
By the end of that week they had tried, with great effort, to kill each twice and slept together once.
Not exactly a romantic start but Edward could work with it.
“But why would you want to dose me when I came here with a gift for you?” Edward spoke with a slight sweetness as he attempted to avoid a night of chemically-induced terror.
“Hmm?” Jonathan replied as he looked up, interest peaked. The last time Edward had given him a gift it was a special delivery of a certain synthetic chemical which was only produced in one specific area of the world. He may be obnoxious and irritating but the man knew how to give a good gift, “And what would that be?”
“Well. Since I had a sneaking suspicion that Pamela might try to pull a stunt while you were," he paused, "away, I actually took all the items from your lair and had them moved to my much more comfortable area of residence.” Edward smiled, pleased with himself and his own forethought. “And since I felt like some responsibility for your incarceration could be blamed on me I also had an associate of ours set you up a brand new lab in my basement so you could continue to play at being a scientist while also getting to enjoy my company.”
A suggestive leer decorated his face as he puffing up proudly, happy with his own genius and waiting for Jonathan to respond.
“Apology accepted, Edward.” Jonathan replied as he threw the heavy, money-laden bag onto his own back.
Edward deflated instantly. “I did not apologise!” He snapped, defensive as he grabbed his own money-filled bag and moved towards the exit. “Do not put words into my mouth, Crane.” He muttered.
Jonathan sensed a perfect opportunity to not only wind Edward up but to also win the argument against him and he moved in a little closer. “Try not to be so negative.” He used the long, index finger of his free hand to push Edwards' chin up, tilting his head as sharp green eyes met his own.
Edward responded instantly and pressed himself up against Jonathan's thin frame.
Jonathan allowed himself to enjoy the warmth for a second before he let go and moved back, “Now, let's go see my new establishment.”
Edward stood still for a moment before a wicked smirk appeared on his face. He gave the retreating figure a calculating stare before hurrying to follow before any passers-by happened upon the scene.