#mystereriddler

 “ yeah.   stop talking. “   bruce requested of him  in their normal monotone  voice,   approaching him with their  thick-footed  steps in order to assess the damage.    after a moment,  however,  they  helped  edward up  by  picking him up like a   kitten  --    grabbing hold of the back collar of his  jacket  and  hoisting him up to his  feet  with their  strong arm,   then promptly letting go.    they could understand why someone would want to beat the hell out of  the man in front of them:  both because  edward  had something of a vibrant personality,   and because of his  current  career.   sometimes,  knowing  as much as  eddie  did  was a vice in  gotham.  

    “Yes, well… He was a man who almost had it all, wasn’t he? In 1812 when he sought to seize control of Russia, he made his biggest mistake. And many of us know the tragic end of that man, don’t we? He made a MISTAKE, his ARROGANCE and overconfidence getting the best of him, some historians may wager.”

    The ‘terrorist’ merely presses leather gloved hands gently down on the table in front of him.

“I….believe the answer is the same as mine. A memory…” He frowns a bit and blinks at her.

  bruce flinched,   recoiling  a little  backwards   when edward suddenly moved toward them   --   it was less of a fear thing  and  more that they were too used to  taking hits  to risk anything on such  movement   --   and   it took them a moment to realize what was happening here.   edward was  hugging them.  they sat stock still for a moment,   almost unsure of what to  do,  mind buzzing   ...   before  slowly,   carefully,   strong arm came to wind around  eddie’s  form,  one hand  resting  on  the back  of his  head,  pressed against  brunet  locks.   bruce blinked  a couple  of  times,   listening  to the  sobs  and  feeling  the  trembling of his shoulders,     before gently  shushing  him,   hand  lightly  stroking  his hair.   “ shhh.   it’s okay.   you’re not alone.    you’re not alone. “

   “One may say when it is left, but three lefts do tend to make a right.”

She’d been waiting for him, an hour or two had passed since Pamela entered Eddie’s home, using the spare key he had given her some time ago.

Except he wasn’t home. The stress from her current... dilemma --Is that what it would be called?-- had her forget about his new detective job. And that it kept him out of the house for most of the day.

But no matter. She was here already, was she not? 

Her time spent waiting was occupied by her racing mind, looking over the papers and cards in her hand. Four hand-written letters, four Mother’s Day cards. It just didn’t make sense to her. 

So she was here for a more professional opinion.

When Edward returned home, she was still sitting in the dark, the glow of her eyes darting to him immediately. 

‘Hello, Edward.’

The usual playful tone she had with him was gone. Perhaps it’d come back if her panic subsided.