#riddlesreformed

Eddie: "Et voilà! La reine entra dans son château." He said, opening the door for her. There was a shit-eating grin on Nygma's face, a proud look that never seemed to leave him when he was up to no good. He decided he needed to show Isabella one of the best things about his life as a criminal, but when she took too long to enter.

The man rolled his eyes dramatically and let out a sigh. "My dear, you saw me shut off the security systems. The cameras won't pick anything up. It's playing footage from last week. You have nothing to worry about. Walk into the art gallery." He said with a gesture towards the art gallery. When he was teaching Sabrina, she was excited to go into places after he shut off the security. She said it had been like 'visiting the museum at night'. And liked when her father took home a souvenir for her. He couldn't imagine the allure of an empty art gallery not appealing to someone like Isabella Flynn.

Isabella: Isabella had agreed to go with Ed tonight, without a moment's hesitation. She was thrilled to be a part of this side of his life, and flattered that he wanted to take her out. But breaking and entering hypothetically was quite different to actually doing it.

"Merci, mon amour," she said, politely, but didn't walk in. She knew that Eddie had made sure they wouldn't get caught – she had seen him take precautions – but she couldn't fight the innate feeling that she was doing something wrong. You're being ridiculous, she told herself. You know he's a criminal. This is your life now. And wasn't it thrilling? Wasn't it flattering?

Apparently, Ed noticed her hesitation, because he told her to enter, and she nodded quickly. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, darling," she said, and she crossed the threshold immediately.

And now, once she was inside, she could appreciate what he'd done for her. He'd disabled the security systems, and taken her at night, so that they could have the whole place to themselves. They were completely alone, free to admire the art without the irritating crowds of people around them, and they could stay for as long as they wanted. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for her.

"Oh, Edward," she whispered, looking around at the completely empty gallery. "It's wonderful!" Elated by her own law-breaking, overcome with adoration for him, she took his hands and laughed. "Thank you for bringing me, my love."

Eddie: Ed walked in after she did and was delighted at her reaction. Excitement seemed to fill her instantly once she had a look at the place. He moved closer and wrapped his hands around her waist to stop her from moving too much, making too much noise. There was still a guard that could return at any time. (Which was why he brought the gun).

As though this was nothing but a date, he pressed a kiss softly on her head. He was determined to have her in his new life. She had this way of brightening up his days, and if she wasn't there by his side – things would be a little gloomier. Isabella was important to Ed, so she was also an asset to Riddler. He just had to modify her a little. Make her fond of the things he was fond of, get her to be less afraid of it. Which was why Riddler was treating this like a date. This had to be positive for Isabella or it would be a bust for Edward.

After a moment he let go of her and started walking around her to an art piece. Examining it, then turning to Isabella and gesturing to her to come over with him. "If I recall correctly," He always did. He had a photographic memory. "You said you liked this one on our last visit here." He didn't know what she would pick, she liked a lot of pieces in the gallery. He hadn't even told her yet that he was going to take one for her. He didn't want to put pressure on her to pick one. He was going to choose the one she seemed the most enthused about and pluck it off the wall when the time came.

Isabella: They were safe, here. Ed was armed, and he'd disabled the security of the gallery, so nobody even knew they were here. Isabella felt giddy with freedom, but she didn't want to act recklessly. She had to prove to Eddie that she was an asset, that she wouldn't slip up and get them caught. She looked into his eyes when he pulled her close, and smiled brightly. He had finally let her in, he'd finally given her the chance to see this world, and she loved him for that. Her initial hesitation was drowned out by how much she adored him, in that moment. She had vowed that she wouldn't hesitate anymore. She had to show him she was okay with this.

As he walked over to the paintings, she was content to just stand and watch him, to drink in the fact that they were alone here, that this was magical and special. But he gestured for her to join him, so she walked to his side and took his hand and leaned against him, without asking for permission. She rested her head on his shoulder, and looked at the painting. It had been the first one she'd fallen in love with, when they'd come here during the day, but then she'd seen the others. They were all stunning. The art gallery was one of her favourite places in Star City.

"You do remember correctly," she replied, smiling. Of course he did. "It's beautiful. You know that I love impressionist art." She raised a hand and gestured to the wild brush strokes, feeling the sudden blasphemous urge to touch it. But she didn't dare. They were here to admire the artwork, not go too far. "It might be my favourite style. Oh, but –"

She tore her gaze away from the painting, and pulled Ed with her gently, wandering over to a landscape painting of the horizon of Star City. "Realism is stunning as well. It's less... adventurous, and I know it seems dull, but the attention to detail is breath-taking." She laughed a little, and shook her head. "I'm sorry. Listen to me, blathering on. I'm sure we had this conversation when we were here during opening hours. But everything is so much more stunning, isn't it? Now that we're the only ones here."

Eddie: He didn't pull away when she took his hand, didn't move when Isabella leaned on him. But he had to remind himself that this was more of a date than a heist. He wanted her to be happy and romantic and he couldn't ruin it by pushing her away. The romance was sweet, and he could only imagine allowing Isabella to pull him around and demand things of him – like hand holding. His fingers intertwined with hers. He had always loved art. He liked the colours and the emotions put into the first piece.

Then she pulled him over to the skyline picture and he gazed over it, listening to her talk about how much she loved it. He loved realism, himself. But he more so enjoyed portraits. If an artist could capture the liveliness of a human – that was incredible. In that moment, he wanted a portrait done of himself and Isabella. Something to hang on their wall. Maybe in the living room, or in his office. He let himself think about it despite knowing that he would have to leave his home soon. He would have to leave Isabella, too. He had plans for her, and she needed to stay behind for them.

He glanced from the painting to her, and watched her instead. The wild excitement in her eyes, that bright smile on her face. He felt this... sharp, sudden sadness that Isabella would have to stay behind. That he couldn't just take her away with him to his hideout. His smile dropped a little, but then she turned to face him and he forced it back on his face. "No, dear. I enjoy listening to you talk. Please, feel free to. I took you here to listen to you blather on. You could never bore me, remember?"

Isabella: Edward was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and Isabella glanced at him. Had she said something wrong? She could feel herself getting caught up in the excitement and romance of it all. Maybe she shouldn't have pulled him after her? But he didn't seem irritated. Just thoughtful.

He smiled again, and she felt relieved. This was a date. This wasn't a test. She didn't need to worry. Ed had done all this for her, to make her happy, and here she was second guessing him? What was wrong with her? He clearly just wanted to impress her. She pushed away her worry, and the guilt that came with it.

"Thank you, Eddie," she said, quietly. She had already thanked him, but she felt like she had to do it again. "For taking me here. For showing me how... exciting this all is." She let go of his hand, and leaned on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, just content to stand there with him. She felt the sudden urge to hold him closer, though she didn't know why.

He loved her. Even now everything was different and frightening and new. He was willing to guide her into his criminal life, to be patient with her, and take her out, and listen to her ramble.

Isabella closed her eyes, and breathed out slowly. The manic excitement was still there, bubbling beneath the surface, and she wanted to spin around and drag Ed with her around the museum, and rant about the art, and get lost in how beautiful this place was without anyone else there. But, for a moment, she wanted to just be still, and worship him.

"I love you," she whispered, and it hurt to say. It made her heart ache. "I love that you thought of every precaution, so we could come here and do this. I love that you're so patient with me. That you let me into your other life. That you enjoy listening to me talk."

She knew she was rambling again. Maybe it was because she thought he'd seemed sad, for a moment, and that worried her. Or maybe it was because she loved him so much and she just had to tell him. "I know that I was... sceptical. At first. When I heard about what you'd done to that woman." She couldn't say anything more about that. She didn't want to ruin the moment. "But I understand now. Sacrifices have to be made. And this? Coming here at night? It's magical."

At last, she opened her eyes, and leaned her chin on his chest so that she could look up at him. "I adore you, Riddler," she said, quietly, and smiled. It was the first time she'd used that name out loud, the first time she'd acknowledged it, and she did it for him. Because she loved every part of him, and he had to know that.

Eddie: She was thanking him again, happy to be involved in his crimes. It was almost like he didn't need to convince her. She would follow him anywhere and for the millionth time, his mind wondered to her "programming". She shouldn't have told him that – he would be enjoying this so much more if he knew it was all real. He loved her, but since he started dating her and showing her the other side of him – it was like all of the morals she had were thrown out the window. Though maybe that was a good thing. It meant he wouldn't have to try hard to convince her to come with him... How did that make him unhappy? Dissatisfied?

He didn't want to leave her behind, and he didn't want to break things off but he wanted to tell her that she was being an idiot – blindly following him. Not asking important questions. Just going along with his – honestly correct and perfect – ideals, like she had none of her own anymore. She used to hate him and now he could hardly remember what that was like. Testing her had been fun. God, what was wrong with him. Couldn't he just be content in his life for two seconds?

"Of course I enjoy listening to you talk. I'd like you to do it more. You understand, anything you say Isabella. You are free to do so." The Riddler in him never worked overly well with others. He had an amazing amount of ideas and everyone else's seemed dull to him in comparison. It was probably true what everyone said about him – that he loved himself. But he loved Isabella too. He just wished he saw a little more of her. It was becoming dull somehow. Their twisted, sick relationship. She wasn't fighting him anymore and it was strange.

"I knew you'd like it!" He brightened up a little. "You've always been so fond of art. Even back then. My love, whichever piece you like the most. We'll take it. I don't mind robbing the whole place if that's what you wanted!" He said with a brighter grin. Now that he was thinking about taking whatever he wanted from the place.

Then she called him Riddler, and he couldn't believe his ears for a moment. "What?" He asked, before shaking his head. "Uh – right. Yes. My dear. I – I adore you too." He said stuttering a little. Then he cleared his throat, let go of her hand and walked away from her lifting his hands. "Come then! Hurry up, we don't have all night. If you can't pick something, I'll have to pick something for you! You have 60 seconds to decide!"

Isabella: Isabella wanted to just stay with him for a little longer, to drink in the fact that they were alone, and he'd done all of this for her. This was the Edward she'd thought she was dating, when she was Kristen. He'd been sweet to her, and he'd made her dinner, and kissed her hand like she was a princess, and her life, for a short while, was like a movie. And wasn't it like that again? Alone in the art gallery, listening to his heartbeat, leaning on him. It was like a dream. He'd done this for her. He'd taken her with him. And she was so grateful.

But then Ed spoke again, and she pulled away and blinked. "I... I'm sorry? We'll take it?" She stared at him. And it was as if the spell was broken. He'd taken her here to steal the artwork? She felt so stupid. Of course he had. He was a criminal.

But Isabella hadn't even considered the idea that they would be stealing. Some of the paintings hanging on these walls were priceless, irreplaceable. Where on earth would Ed put them? What if they got damaged? She hadn't even been able to touch the impressionist painting. She'd felt the aura of beauty and value radiating from it. And he wanted them to take something home with them?

He moved away from her, and she felt horribly alone. She folded her arms across her stomach, and saw the excitement return to Ed's smile. She had 60 seconds. And she realised. This was the test. How could she have been so thoughtless? So idiotic? If she didn't pick something, he would pick for her, but that wasn't the point. If she didn't pick something, she would fail. She would show him that she wasn't okay with thievery. And wasn't he trying to be romantic? He was letting her decide her favourite piece. Anything she wanted. He had taken her here on a date, to make her happy.

And she was part of this world now. Was she going to disagree just because she drew the line at taking the artwork? Why was this any worse than hacking, or breaking and entering, or murder? She realised that she'd been quiet for a while, and hoped that she hadn't used up all her time. Didn't you say you weren't going to hesitate when he asked you a question? she thought, disgusted at herself. What if she used up all of the minute? What if he was disappointed in her? After all the lengths he'd gone to get them there on this wonderful, romantic, evening, and she was going to ruin it by calling him out?

"Oh my. You've put me on the spot, Eddie," she said, forcing a laugh. It sounded terribly strained. For one insane, incongruous, moment, Isabella thought she hated him for doing this to her. But it lasted for a split second, and she returned to herself.

Immediately, she turned to the first portrait Edward had pointed out, the one she adored. The one she hadn't been able to touch before. And she walked over to it, and raised her hand, and placed it on the frame, running her fingertips over it. She breathed shallowly. "This one," she said, looking up at it. "I want this one."

Eddie: "Yes. We'll take it. Didn't you hear me?" He raised his voice a little at her, not really meaning to. But all of this – it was beginning to hurt his head a little. He didn't know what he wanted, but he did feel more comfortable testing her than he did indulging her. She was taking a little too long, but he could tell she was mostly just bewildered. She wasn't going to fight him on this.

He waited, about thirty seconds or so before his lady actually did something. Moving to the painting and choosing the first one she fell in love with. The one with the bright colours and wild strokes, leaving the boring, normal one behind. It felt like a metaphor.

A few seconds passed, and Ed didn't really say anything. Assessing her choice like it actually meant something. Then he turned his head at the sound of another voice just down the hall. "Grab it, darling," he told Isabella. "I'll go take care of our little friend. He deserves it for ruining our date," je said, taking his gun out. He then started walking down the hall and disappearing from her sight.

"Hello," Ed greeted the guard. The man had a gun, pointed towards the Riddler who was actually beginning to smile a little at the sight of a little danger. The guard spoke, meaningless words.

"Hold it," he said.

"I am holding it – my gun that is." Ed joked. "Answer me this. In a tunnel of darkness lies a beast of iron. It can only attack when pulled back. What is it?" He said before cocking his gun.

"What?"

"Answer the riddle," Edward demanded, his voice once again raising and the man in front of him looked more dazed and confused than ever. "Were you even listening to me?! IN A TUNNEL OF– Oh, forget it." He said before aiming and shooting the man in the hand. A sharp yell sounded from the guard as he dropped his gun on the floor. "IT'S A BULLET. You IMBECILE!" Ed told him. "Here! I'll make it easier on you. Answer this one and I won't kill you. I live in the – "

Before he could finish the riddle, the man unexpectedly charged at him. Ed let out a few shots, hitting a painting and a bust which shattered on the ground. The guard pushed Ed back, and he stumbled and fell onto the floor. Causing Ed to drop his handgun in the process. The other reaching down and grabbing his shirt before giving Ed a punch in the face with his uninjured fist.

The scuffle went on, and loudly as the two obviously fought in the other room. Thuds and yells could he heard from a mile away, probably.

Isabella: Ed raising his voice slightly only made Isabella feel more stupid. Of course she'd heard him. Why hadn't she seen this coming? Did she think they were going to stop at breaking and entering? Ed wanted her to have something nice. Just like Tom used to. It was flattering.

She stood in front of the painting in silence, and didn't let herself take her hand away from it. Every second she was touching it made her skin tingle, like she was doing something sinful. But isn't it exciting? She forced herself to move her hand from the frame, and brushed her fingertips across the rough paintwork, feeling the beautiful wild brushstrokes beneath her skin.

And then, suddenly, she heard a voice, and it broke her out of her thoughts. It must have been the security guard. She turned to Edward as he pulled out his gun. He was going to shoot the guard. He was going to kill him. She had to take the painting down.

She turned back to it. It was stunning. Anyone else would have struggled to take it off the wall – it was tall, and probably heavy, but Isabella lifted it from its hook with absolutely no issue. She wasn't breathing. She gripped it tightly, and just held it for a few moments, looking at it.

A gunshot echoed throughout the gallery, and she looked up sharply. Was that it? Had Ed killed him? She stood perfectly still, waiting for him to return. But he didn't.

A few more shots rang out, and Isabella bent down and leaned the painting against the wall. Someone yelled, and it was impossible to tell if it was the guard, or Edward. Had he been disarmed? He was clearly in a hand-to-hand fight. She couldn't just stand there and wait for him to come back. He was in danger.

Briskly, she walked across the room and into the hall. There was too much to take in with one glance. Edward was on the floor, and trying to fight back, but the guard was bigger and clearly a better fighter. There were bullet-holes in a painting, and a broken bust on the ground. There was blood on the floor, and Isabella couldn't tell if it was Edward's or the guard's. She reached into her pocket, and felt the handle of the knife that Edward had made for her. She withdrew it, and pulled the cap off, and let it fall onto the floor.

The guard had hit Edward. He had injured him. Isabella wasn't even thinking.

She walked quickly over to him, and grabbed his shoulder. He yelled, but she didn't make a sound. She simply pinned him to the ground and straddled his waist, holding his arms by his sides with her knees. She could hear her heartbeat slamming in her ears, her blood rushing through her body, and she could feel the man struggling beneath her, but she was so much stronger than he was. So much more.

She lowered the blade to his throat, and drew it across his skin. He had to drown. He had to drown in his own blood. She pressed her hand against this forehead, so that his head was still. So that he would choke on it. Blood erupted out of his open throat, and sprayed into her face as she dragged the knife across his neck, and it splattered onto her nice new coat. Isabella pressed her lips together. She dropped the knife beside her and held his head stationary. He was making horrific sounds. Choking sounds, gargling, gasping, sounds. There was a buzzing noise inside her head.

He convulsed beneath her, and Isabella waited. She looked into his eyes. It wouldn't be long now. There was nothing else. Nothing in the world. Except this man, who had hurt Edward, who had dared to hit him, who had ruined their evening.

When, at last, he went still, she blinked, and stood up. The blood from his throat was sticky and warm on her face, and she looked down at the stains on her coat and sighed in irritation. "Oh dear," she said, mildly. "This probably won't wash out."

Eddie: The fight was quick, he was taking punches – but he was also throwing them back, persevering! He didn't feel he was in an overwhelming amount of danger. He had fought bigger and more terrifying men then this one guard. Though, he fought like he had a background in wrestling or something. Eddie struggled underneath him, while he attempted to reach the gun. He was under a small amount of pressure now as he was having more difficulty. The guy had just grabbed his neck. Attempting to choke him. One of Ed's hands grabbed the man's wrist as an attempt to pry him off his neck.

It wasn't long after that when Isabella came to his rescue. Right as Ed's fingertips grazed the handle of his gun of course. He easily threw him off Edward and he gasped and coughed for air. A small bit of weakness he did not want to show in front of Isabella. It was one man. Ed could have handled him if she had only given him the time. It was a spot of bad luck. That was all.

As he sat up watching Isabella, he expected her to just knock the man out. Instead, he watched in shock as the woman he loved whipped out the knife he designed for her. One that as first glance looked like a pen, and sliced his throat open. He let out a over dramatic gasp, but Isabella wasn't letting up on the guard. Holding his head down and forcing him to choke on his own blood. It would be sickening to anyone else but to Ed it was incredibly interesting.

Isabella just a couple weeks ago was horrified at Edward's murder a month or two ago. Now the tables have turned and she was doing the exact same thing he described to her. Only it wasn't quick for this man. He was drowning in his own blood. She was forcibly holding him like that because she knew it would be significantly worse for the guy. Ed couldn't help but just watch as the scene went down. His eyes never tearing from it. Not much shocked him. Isabella in this moment, did.

It took a while before the man was dead and his girlfriend got off him. Making a comment about how blood wouldn't wash out. He knew a few methods he could try when they got home but Ed was too speechless to correct her. He cleared his throat, only a little sore from the fight. "Isabella..." Blood was speckled on her skin and it was incredibly beautiful on her. Was that odd? She looked as though she belonged in the art gallery herself, as a piece.

Isabella: Edward saying her name quietly reminded Isabella that he'd been injured, and she blinked and walked over to him. "Are you okay, Eddie?" she asked softly, running her gaze up and down his body, checking for wounds. "He didn't hurt you too badly, did he? Are you concussed?" He didn't seem too injured, but she knew from experience that he often hid pain well. She raised her hand and gently touched his forearm, and looked into his eyes, checking for signs of wooziness. All of her attention was focused on him.

Now that the threat had passed, she felt oddly disconnected, and distant. As if she wasn’t quite present. The blood on her face was revolting, but she didn't have any tissues to wipe it away. She felt it cling to her skin, and could only imagine what Edward thought of her. The moment she could, she would wash her face, and clean it away. It was warm and sticky, and she was disgusted by it.

Ed looked completely stunned. She smiled at him, a little embarrassed. He was gazing at her with awe, and she had no idea how to react. It gave her butterflies, and she wanted to kiss him, to tell him she was glad he was okay, to recapture that magical feeling from before. But she knew that now wasn't the time.

At least he wasn't badly hurt. Thankfully, she'd been able to step in before he was seriously injured, and he'd only taken a few punches. But that had been more than enough. The guard had needed to die for what he'd done.

She let go of his arm, and turned around to face the corpse. It was easier to focus on what needed to be done, rather than dither under his gaze. There was blood dripping slowly from the guard's open neck, and it had sprayed onto the walls where she'd slit his throat. His eyes were still open. It was careless of her to leave such a scene for Ed to deal with, but she had reacted in the spur of the moment. She'd wanted the man to suffer, to die slowly and painfully. It was surprising how easy it had been. And it would get easier with practice.

Isabella walked over to where she'd dropped her knife, and picked it up. It was covered it blood, and it stained her fingers bright red. She tutted to herself. "I should have been more careful," she murmured. "I made a terrible mess. I'm sorry, my love. It's not very romantic, is it?" She laughed lightly, and glanced back to Ed. He had been attacked, and she'd avenged him. She felt oddly proud of herself. It was just as Eddie had said. The man deserved it for ruining their date.

Eddie: His eyebrows furrowed as she examined him. Isabella didn't seem like she cared at all about what she had just done. But it happened fast. Perhaps she was in shock. Yes, that had to be it. It was a crime of passion that ended in her being in terrible shock. He hadn't even been focused on himself, busy analyzing her. His voice sounded slightly strained as he spoke back to her, shaking his head. "No, not concussed. I didn't sustain any injuries that won't be healed within the week. He didn't actually hurt me too bad..." He told her.

Ed's eyes went back to the body, the blood that pooled around it. It would be a lot too clean. Too much by morning. He was wearing gloves but she wasn't. He let out a soft hum as he tried to figure out how he was going to fix this. "You're right. This was an awfully big mess you've made..." He whispered. "Don't fret, dear. I'll handle it, I need you to get in the car. I have an extra pair of clothes. They're my work clothes, but you can probably fit them if you tighten the belt a lot or ditch the pants all together. We'll load the painting into the car and I will take it to my hideout tomorrow. You will be going home tonight before me. I'll handle this on my own." He decided.

It wasn't that he was kicking her out of the process, it was just a lot of work. She would find it incredibly boring anyway. Plus, she was likely shocked, she needed to rest. "You're in shock, probably. This is... your first kill. I – I didn't intend for that to happen. Just, go home. I'll handle it..."

Isabella: Hearing that Ed wasn't too injured was a relief, and Isabella breathed out slowly. "Good," she said, quietly. He was obviously shocked by what she'd done, and Isabella didn't know how to reassure him that she was fine, that this was completely fine. He had been in danger. She had protected him. The threat had been dealt with. Ed looked completely floored, and she felt a stab of guilt for throwing him so off balance. But it was very endearing to see him so surprised. It wasn’t something she saw often, and she was enjoying it quite a lot.

There was something reassuringly familiar about him reeling off instructions, and she nodded silently as he spoke, taking it all in. He looked shell-shocked. "Of course, my love," she said. "I'm sorry I've made so much work for you. I wasn't thinking. This is going to take hours to clean up." Her gaze moved from Ed to the blood, and then the corpse, which, she supposed, would have to be broken down and buried. He would have to find somewhere to dispose of it, which was a job in itself, but simply cleaning the gallery would take a while.

She hated having to leave him there, especially after such a brief date. She'd wanted to explore the gallery with him, and take advantage of the fact that they were alone. But it had been cut short. Isabella glared at the bloodstain on the floor, and mentally scolded herself. It had been selfish of her to be sadistic. If she'd just stabbed him quickly, and not made such a mess, then Ed wouldn't have had to work through the night to clean up after her. It was sweet of him to tell her not to fret, but she couldn't help but feel bad for causing so much bother.

Then he said that she was in shock, and she couldn't leave letting him think that. He would spend the whole time worrying about her. He stammered as he spoke, and she could see that this had upset him so much more than it had upset her. He was her endearing, adorable, Ed again, with none of the Riddler's bravado, and all she wanted to do was hold him. The Riddler was incredibly attractive, and made her weak at the knees, but Ed, nervous and concerned and thoughtful, made her melt.

Isabella slipped her knife into her pocket and crossed the room, taking his hands, smearing the guard's blood onto his fingers. "Eddie," she said, seriously. "Darling. I'll go home. I’ll do as you ask. But please don't worry about me. I know you didn't intend for this to happen. It was an accident." The thought that he'd somehow planned this hadn't even crossed her mind. Ed hadn't wanted her to become a murderer.

She blinked, and looked at him imploringly. "I'll take the painting with me, while you start cleaning up in here. But I promise I'm not in shock, my love. I'm perfectly fine." Because she couldn’t leave without kissing him, she leaned forwards and pressed her lips against his softly, only for a moment, before pulling away. "I love you," she whispered. "I did it for you."

Eddie: Ed pulled herself to his feet, his eyes travelling from the body again back to her. She was so calm, moving towards him. Taking his hands and talking to him like he was the one who was in shock. She was the one who just killed someone for the first time and she was comforting him. He stammered again, it was hard to get a hold of himself after witnessing his girlfriend kill someone so violently for him. She didn't need to do that. It was almost like she wanted to.

I'm perfectly fine. She said and he wanted to argue with her. She couldn't be fine because she was Isabella. The intelligent woman with morals and beliefs. Though, if she said she was fine... a part of him did think maybe she would be useful for this sort of thing when he just couldn't handle it.

"G-good. Yes... go home," he said. She leaned forward and kissed him, and Ed paused before giving her a kiss back. She pulled away and he gave her a puzzled look. He still couldn't believe she was fine. I did it for you. This paralleled his fight with Miss Kringle after he told her that he killed her abusive boyfriend. That he did it for her. Only now, Miss Kringle was killing people for him.

He sighed. "I... love you too. Goodnight," he said. They exchanged goodbyes and she left him alone to deal with the mess.

Isabella: Isabella sat in the living room, her knees crossed and her back straight. Though Joker had left a while ago, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he left her with. He had invaded her and Edward's home, and, beneath the fake cordiality, there had been a genuine threat to his visit. She stared at the receipt, and the anonymous note, which were lying on the coffee table in front of her. Joker had claimed that Edward had taken the receipt from his victim, as per the anonymous writer's request.

She'd reread the note several times since Joker had departed, and it was still ridiculous. The voice was laughably villainous, more like a cartoon bad guy than a genuinely threatening person. But, despite the absurdity of the writer's tone, they had still threatened Edward, and that made her furious. How dare they? He had been doing so well, and they implied that he was slipping? They threatened him with exposure? The coward hadn't bothered to threaten her, but they'd gone after Edward? She glared at the note, disgusted with its author.

Edward had told her he would come immediately, when she'd texted him to tell him she needed him urgently. She had no idea what she was going to say to him. Would he try to lie to her about this? She didn't think she would be able to stand it, if he tried to lie to her. As much as she'd tried to deny what Joker was saying, she couldn't deny the evidence he'd given her. Edward had killed someone. And Isabella wasn't angry about that. He'd clearly had no choice, and she was almost certain he regretted it now. But he hadn't told her, and, even though she understood why, she was still hurt by that.

She tapped her fingertips on her knee, and was just about to text him again, when the front door opened, and she looked up sharply from the receipt. "Edward? I'm in the living room," she called.

Edward: He was admittedly worried when he received the text from Isabella. An emergency? His first thought was that she was hurt, or that someone tried to attack and kill her. He dropped everything as soon as he got the text. Far too concerned with her safety then his schedule. Ed raised home to where she was and walked in after a second of listening at the door for anything unusual. When it seemed safe, he entered and was about to call out to her when Isabella's voice rang from the living room. She sounded fine. There wasn't and strain in her voice. She wasn't in pain. He had just noticed how hard his heart had been beating as he realized she wasn't in any trouble at all. It still thumped, strong and quick in his chest. His stomach was turned upside down at the mere idea that something happened.

Ed entered the room, wearing a look of worry still plastered on his face. He moved quickly to her side and reached to place a hand on hers. Clearly she had scared him with the text. His hand grazed the paper instead of hers and he glanced down at it. A receipt, with a tiny spot of blood on it. "Oh, dear." He said. Wondering how she came about the slip of paper. "Isabella.." He should test what she knows, that was what he always did when something like this happened. "What is that?"

Isabella: When she saw how worried Edward looked, Isabella had to force herself to stay composed. She wasn't ​furious​, but she was certainly angry. But seeing how concerned he looked, for a moment, distracted her. He immediately walked over to her, and she stayed still, despite wanting to hold him, to just let go of the tension she was carrying in her shoulders, and allow herself to collapse into him.

As irritated as she was that he'd kept this from her, and as betrayed as she felt, she'd been afraid for him. What if Joker had sent people after him, or simply told the S.C.P.D. what he'd done, or intercepted him on the way home? Joker was clearly outraged that Edward had imitated him, and Isabella had been terrified that he would seek him out. But Edward was here now, and she could but her own worry aside for a moment.

She met his gaze. "It's what it looks like," she said, simply. "A receipt." Her tone was cold, and business-like, though it hurt her so much to speak to him like that. "The Joker came by. About an hour ago. He was looking for you. He told me what you did, Edward." Her voice broke, and she looked away from him, and stared at the spot of blood on the receipt. That made it feel more real. She didn't know who had died, and she didn't care. The actual murder was abstract and distant. But Edward had kept it from her, and that was real.

"He told me you framed him for it," she continued, addressing the receipt. Her hands were clasped together tightly, and her whole body felt tense. "I had to hear it from ​him​, Eddie." The nickname slipped out without her even realising it, and she closed her eyes. "I had to hear from the ​Joker​ that you killed someone."

Edward: He looked at her, listening to her words. She knew. The paranoid side of him, made him want to check her for a wire. But she would never do that, right? Unless Joker forced her to do it. He wasn't scared of Joker being angry with him. They had small feuds all the time and he was still alive. Sure, Ed had been tortured by him once, but the situation was handled swiftly. He expected that was how far this would escalate if it did escalate.

"I can't say I'm surprised The Joker found out. He has a knack for getting information. Spies, everywhere..." He said after a brief moment, it was better to just admit it. It seemed unlikely that Isabella would turn him in now that he was looking at her. She looked hurt, but it didn't seem like she was scared of him. She was angry, but she was making it clear that it was that he didn't tell her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to bring up that you had to kill someone to the woman you love." He paused, "Trust me, Isabella. I didn't want to. But it was the only hand I could play to keep myself and my family safe. There were these notes, going around. I'm sure you know... I received one."

He crouched, slowly and carefully in front of her. Taking her hands. The motion seemed like it was going to be a proposal, but his next couple of words were. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me, again... This wasn't of my own will."

Isabella: Edward didn't deny it. He didn't deny it, and that was both a relief and it hurt so much. Even though Isabella ​knew​ he'd done it, and she'd had time to process that, hearing him not argue was still a shock. A part of her had wanted Edward to pull some magical solution out of thin air, and explain it all. Joker had been wrong, or lying. Edward hadn't killed anyone. She'd been clinging to a stupid dream, and she knew it, but she'd clung on anyway. At least Edward hadn't tried to lie to her. She didn't know what she would have done if he had.

And then he said he loved her, and she turned to him sharply, and, for a moment, it was like everything else had vanished. ​The woman you love.​

Oh. Edward loved her.

When had he realised? Isabella had known she loved him for months, but when had he discovered it? She wanted so, so, much to just forget this entire thing, and kiss him, and tell him she loved him too. It didn't matter that he'd killed someone. He'd had no choice. It didn't matter that he hadn't told her. He'd wanted to keep her safe. But she knew she couldn't do that. They still had things to talk about. She couldn't let her feelings get the better of her.

"I... I know you didn't want to," she said. "The note made it obvious you had no choice." Now probably wasn't the best time to tell him that she'd received one too, and dismissed it immediately. She didn't want him to feel like she was judging him, for doing what the anonymous writer had told him to. Hearing him explain his reasoning, it made sense. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. There had been no other option. He'd done it to protect her. Just like he'd killed Tom to protect her. Sometimes, there was no choice.

She stared into his eyes as he crouched, and held his hands. "I understand," she said, softly. "I was angry that you didn't tell me, but I understand why you didn't. And I want you to know, Edward, I'm not afraid of you." She had to make him see that, but she didn't know how, so she just repeated it, imploringly: "I'm not afraid of you. I love you." At that, she couldn't help but smile, hardly able to believe she'd said it to his face.

Then she blinked, and forced herself to focus on the immediate threat. "Joker was furious that you emulated him. I don't know what he's going to do. He might try to hurt you." She tried to keep her tone matter-of-fact, but she couldn't keep the fear out of her voice.

Edward: He allowed himself to tell her that he loved her, and of course she took notice of it. Hearing her words back at him. Hearing her tell him that she loved him was a huge relief. She wasn't afraid of him for what he had done. That was a good sign... she still loved him despite his blaring dark side. He wondered for a second if she'd seen the note and knew about his mental breaks. About how unfit for society he was becoming... Would she still care about him if she knew his sanity was only so-so?

He wanted to pull her into a hug. She loved him. He could calm down, but he didn't move from his spot on the floor on front of her. Gently rubbing her hands with his thumbs. He had to move his hands, feeling a sense of nervousness despite not having a reason to. She could still take it back. She could turn this all around and tell him that she couldn't love a murderer. So easily she could pull away from him. He couldn't have that... that idea of her leaving him was too much. It was the last thing he wanted.

She was clearly afraid for him. "Does he scare you?" He asked her, looking at her with a confused look. He supposed there were a few things about the Joker that could scare just about anyone. His ungodly height, his awful smile, his unpredictability. He had grown used to it all with time but still, he could understand. Sometimes Joker's words got to him too, but most of the time he wasn't afraid of him at all. Like now.

He shook his head at her. "No, Isabella. He won't hurt me. I just have to get back on his good side, earn his respect again and we'll be fine. I can't do favours for him but I have to do something." He said, then he sighed.

"I'd rather deal with the villain I know then the one I don't. Taking the note seriously was the only option. If I ignored or publicly shamed that note, he would come after the people I love. Believe me, if someone ignored my threats back in the day, that was how I used to handle it. He wants to rule by fear, so he needs to show that no one can get away with ignoring him."

Isabella: Just having Edward closer made Isabella feel slightly better. The odd tension that Joker had left behind was fading slightly. Edward hadn't tried to lie to her, and he had told her he loved her. She allowed some of the tension to lift from her shoulders, at last. The way he was holding her hands, mindlessly stroking her skin, was calming, and she let herself focus on that for a moment. It was irresponsible – she knew that – but she wanted to just ​be​ for a moment. Ever since Joker had arrived on their doorstep, she'd felt as if her muscles were locked, and her mind was constantly whirring.

And then Edward spoke again, and Isabella considered the question. She would have been foolish not to realise that Joker was incredibly dangerous. She never relaxed in his presence, and she never let her guard down for a moment. But there was an unusual sort of mutual respect between them, and she didn't know what to make of it. She frowned a little, debating on how to put her feelings towards Joker into words. "He's powerful," she replied, after a moment. "It would be short-sighted of me to not be afraid of him." But, as she spoke, she held Edward's hands a little tighter. That was the pragmatic answer.

However, if she was being completely honest with herself, having him in their house, seeing his unbridled rage, even for a moment, had been frightening. He couldn't ​hurt​ her, but he could harm her. Listening to Edward's reassurances helped a little, but she wondered if he was being too arrogant. He hadn't seen how angry Joker was. What if this couldn't be fixed?

"You've known him longer than I have," she said. "If you say you can earn his respect again, then I believe you. But please, Eddie. Please be careful." She loved him, but she couldn't help but be worried at his certainty. What if Joker didn't forgive him? "He came here looking for you. I don't know if he was armed, but the fact that he decided to seek you out personally suggests that he's not going to let this go easily."

Though she was used to Edward talking about his time as the Riddler, his casual mention of it still startled her, and she blinked. "Oh. Yes. That makes sense. I know you had no choice." She nodded slowly. Perhaps, if the letter writer had threatened her, and she'd ignored it, she would have been in danger. That was an odd thought. After a moment, she looked away from Edward, and down at their hands. When she next spoke, her voice was quieter. "Joker said the murder was violent," she said, almost not wanting to know. But she had to. If she was going to be with Edward, she had to know everything. "And he was convinced you were trying to frame him for it." She breathed out slowly. "What did you do? I need to hear it."

Edward: "He's not going to kill me." He told her, wondering if that was what she was worried about. "You do understand that Joker and myself have known one another for years, so you should also come to the conclusion that we've gotten into fights like this before. I'm sure I'll be able to do something to earn his respect again. He should understand though... He did owe me this. I did do two things for him recently and expected nothing in return. Besides, of course him leaving me alone but that was a given. He can't come barging into my reformed life. The important thing is, I'm sure he and I will come to an understanding."

There was a pause. "You want to know how I did it?" Edward gave her a look of surprise. Isabella had accepted the murder, she seemed alright with it (as alright as she could be) and now she wanted to know the details? Ed wasn't too sure that she would be so alright with it once she learnt about it. "Alright, I'll walk you through it. I wasn't so worried about Joker finding out, I honestly thought he would be kind of honoured that I chose him. I could have chosen anyone really, but he was the most defined out of all the villains I could think of. I needed this to be a closed case immediately so the SCPD would have no reason to look into it.

Still, I took every precaution. I was given a certain person to kill. An older woman. First, I dressed in Joker's henchman's attire so the security cameras would catch that. -- You don't want to know how I got that outfit." He paused, "I took her from her home and to the abandoned fair grounds that Harley showed me a few months before. I put her inside of the funhouse. I made her death very quick. I would have made it a lot more merciful if I wasn't imitating Joker. I would have given her drugs, instead I just..."

He took a breath and pulled his hands away from her, looking away from her for a moment. "I slit her throat. Deep, and quick. She wasn't alive for very long. Then I... made her corpse look a little more --" He paused. "You know that slit-mouth smile that Joker does..?" He took a small shaky breath. He was nervous telling her all this. He didn't like sharing how brutal he had been.

He moved so he was more comfortable on his knees in front of her. "She was already dead when I inflicted several stab wounds into her body." He was starting to get a little quiet. He knew she would be reminded of Tom's death at the mention of multiple stab wounds. And her own death by his attention to her throat. "Do you want me to stop?" He asked gently. "I don't-- I don't want to make you feel too sick."

Isabella: Edward sounded so sure, and Isabella nodded slowly. What he was saying made sense. Joker hadn't explicitly stated that he wanted to kill Edward, or even do him harm. Now that she thought back, Joker hadn't immediately left to find Edward, when he'd been greeted by her at the door. Surely, if he wanted Edward dead, Edward would be dead by now? She knew that it was irrational to worry -- that Edward was right, and he probably wasn't in danger -- but she couldn't help it. "I know, I know," she said. "I'm sure he won't harm you. But he's always struck me as very..." She couldn't find the word, and went quiet for a moment, before saying, "... Chaotic. He might hurt you just to do the opposite of what you expect. I just want you to be safe."

She didn't let herself look away from him. "Yes," she replied, bluntly. This was going to hurt, and she knew that, but she had to know. Her imagination would only make it much worse than it probably was. And it wouldn't make her love him any less. She tried to steel herself for what he was about to tell her, and she held his hands a little tighter, and kept watching him. It was oddly comforting that he had come to the same conclusion she had -- that Joker was the most aesthetically recognisable villain to emulate. Isabella took a brief moment to be proud of herself for being as smart as Edward.

But then he kept talking. It was obvious to see how much he was struggling with this, and all she could do was listen. There was something incredibly chilling about how meticulous Edward had been, how many precautions he'd taken. Of course, he was intelligent. He would have taken precautions. Isabella felt her insides turn to ice as he told her how he'd taken this woman to a funhouse. Oh, God. She didn't want to hear anymore. She wanted him to stop, but she knew that, if he didn't finish, she would always imagine something horrific. He'd had no choice. He'd had no choice. She told herself that again and again.

He looked away from her, and pulled his hands away from hers, and she clasped her hands together tightly. She could see it. In her mind's eye, the woman looked like Kathryn. And she had a large, gaping, wound across her throat. Isabella closed her eyes. "A Glasgow smile," she whispered. "It's called a Glasgow smile." Edward was obviously very uncomfortable, telling her this. She tried to focus on that, instead of the image of a woman's corpse, with her cheeks slit open, and her throat slashed, lying in a pool of her own blood.

He had stabbed her corpse. He had stabbed her repeatedly. Isabella made a quiet sound in the back of her throat, like a whimper, and unclasped her hands to hold her abdomen, trying to hold herself together. She had to know this. No wonder Edward hadn't told her. God. She felt nauseous. All that blood. He had stabbed Tom, in the street outside her house. He had strangled her to death. He had sliced this woman's throat open. At least it had been quick.

She'd told Joker that she knew Edward was undisturbed by violence, but actually hearing it was a completely different experience. He had violently, brutally, murdered a woman, because a note had told him to. He could have drugged her. That would have been more humane. But he had gorily, messily, slaughtered someone.

And then he asked her if she wanted him to stop, and she remembered that this was her Edward. This was the man she loved, with her whole heart. He hadn't wanted to tell her. It was clear that he was struggling. She forced herself to look at him, and saw how worried he looked. She took a slow breath in, to remind herself that she still could.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice quivering. "Please stop. I... I don't need to hear anymore. I've heard enough." She blinked quickly, and had no idea what to say. "Thank you for telling me, Edward." That sounded ridiculous, and she immediately wished she hadn't said it, but she couldn’t think clearly.

Edward: He really should have just used the name. He didn't know why it was so easy to forget Isabella could keep up with him. Maybe it was just that he was speaking to imbeciles so often that he adapted to talking to one. "Yes." He said softly. He was quite proud of her intelligence. He loved her for it but now was not the time to give her praise. She was clearly in shock from his descriptions. She seemed a little out of it. The horror reflecting in her eyes. He could tell she was trying to stay neutral but he eyes said it all and she was scared of him again.

She looked so sick to her stomach. She wouldn't have done it that way, she was judging him now. She had to be. He let out a deep breath. "The case was closed rather swiftly. Almost as soon as they got on the scene... I left nothing to chance. I even forged his hand writing and wore his shoe size... I-- The point is, they're never going to look at me for it, Isabella. That's why I had to do it like that. If I did it another way it would be an ongoing investigation and maybe they would have found me and sent me back..."

He paused and then insisted, "I'm not crazy. I had to do it. You understand I couldn't allow someone close to me; someone like you to get hurt because I didn't take an obvious threat seriously. They would do what they said on note and then they would go after you or..."

He trailed off, he was rambling a lot. Wanting her to get it. To understand him. He had to do it that way because it was the easiest way to leave a body for proof and to have his own name never show up as a suspect. He glanced back up to meet her gaze and took her hands very carefully again like she was a wild animal and he didn't want to scare her off. "Isabella?" He whispered, "Don't thank me. You didn't want to hear that, not really. I shouldn't have told you. I'm... sorry. Do you want me to go for a little while?" He offered smally.

Really all he wanted to do was hold her but he wondered if maybe she couldn't stand his face anymore. Maybe she didn't want to see him at all. Ed took a deep breath. "I can go. For as long as you need me gone. I understand maybe you don't want to see me anymore..." It was hard to even think about Isabella no longer wanting him to be with her. Her wanting to end the relationship. (Of course, he would be better off without her and so would she. This relationship wasn't a healthy one. He shouldn't be allowed to be with her. To corrupt her.)

Ed let go of her hands again and very slowly and carefully got back up to his feet. Taking a small step back as he awaited her telling him to go away.

Isabella: Isabella focused on Edward as he explained how he had taken every measure not to get caught. Her thoughts were coming slowly, and she felt slightly sick. She couldn’t get the image of him stabbing the corpse out of her mind’s eye. She had wanted to know – she’d ​needed​ to know – but now she did. And she felt disconnected from everything. Her thoughts were coming slowly, and they were difficult to really understand. All she knew was that she felt nauseous.

“I understand,” she replied, simply. “You couldn’t get caught. You were backed into a corner, and you had no choice.” She clung to the words, because she knew it was true. The woman had been old, Edward had said. He had killed her quickly, and as mercifully as he could, under the circumstances. She was already dead when he’d mutilated her corpse. He didn't have a choice. It had been necessary.

He had done it to protect her, just like when he’d killed Tom. The anonymous writer could have carried out their threat. Edward had done this to keep her safe. “I know you’re not crazy, Ed,” she said. “You took every precaution. You were very smart.” That was true, so why did she still feel so awful? She knew he’d had no choice. She knew he was capable of extreme acts of violence. She knew that. This didn’t change how she felt about him.

Distantly, she wondered if she was in shock. He took her hands gently, and she looked down at them. He had slit that woman’s face open with those hands. But that was an impossible fact to grasp. It was too odd, and abstract. Edward was still ​Edward​. The only difference was the fact that she knew what he’d done to protect her.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I didn’t want to hear that. But I had to.” And she knew that was true. She loved Edward. She loved him so much that it hurt to look at him right then, but she had to see the darkest parts of him. If she was going to be with him, then she had to face this, to understand. Edward had trusted her with this, even though he must have known there was a risk that she would leave, or tell him she wanted nothing to do with him. But he'd trusted her anyway, because he loved her.

She kept staring at their hands. Hers held his loosely, because her brain wasn’t telling her to cling tighter. Her mind was working at half its usual speed, and it took her a moment to register what he had said. He thought she wanted him to go? That was the last thing she wanted.

But he let go of her hands, and stood up, and that was enough to jolt her out of her weird state. She looked up at him sharply. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said. She got to her feet and stared at him, imploringly. “Please don’t.”

If she was alone with her thoughts, she didn’t know what she would do. Isabella had to stay with him, to remind herself that he was a good person, that he was still the man she loved.

Desperately, she put her arms around him and held him tightly, pressing her face into his jacket and breathing in deeply, trying to take in the feeling of being so close to him. The feeling of the material of his jacket, and the scent of his aftershave, and how thin he was, with her arms around him, and his muscles beneath her palms as she pressed her hands against his shoulder blades. As she held onto him, she let the horrific images of what he’d done fade away. She let everything fade away.

“I love you,” she whispered, and it hurt to say. Despite this, she loved him. Was there anything he could have done that would make her stop caring about him? She couldn’t think of a single thing, right at that moment, that could have made her stop loving him. Finally, the tension in her shoulders lifted completely, and she allowed herself to just collapse into him. “I love you, Edward. Please stay with me.”

Edward: He figured she wouldn't want to be around him for a while, that she would need space and time but then she spoke suddenly about how she didn't want him to leave and despite himself he lingered. He told her about an awful thing he had done and she... still wanted him to stay? Sure, it was his house but it wasn't like he was going to leave her forever. The plan was to leave her for a couple of hours. Give her some room to think about all of it. It didn't seem like she wanted that though as she got to her feet after him.

He felt her arms around him, her body pressing against his own. The warm feeling of their bodies pressed against him came as a relief to Ed. He was always so sure of everything else. The Riddler's plans and schemes came so very easily to Ed, as did understanding the insane minds of Arkham. What he wasn't so sure of was how she was still able to love him despite being a murderer. She had these strong morals just a couple of months ago. She refused to kill him and Oswald because it would be morally wrong, but for some reason she was alright with dating and loving a man who murdered people before in the past and now the present. How was it she was able to sacrifice something she believed in just to love him?

His mind went back to when he first met Isabella. She greeted him with a riddle, they talked for hours and had so much in common. He then come to understand years later that she was ordered to do all of that by the Court of Owls. (A secret organization that of course Edward already knew about, but she still shouldn't have told him that for her own safety.) It was fake then... but it felt so real now. Was he naive to believe her? That she loved him now? She couldn't possibly just be playing him now. It felt so genuine. The feeling of her desperately clinging to him. Telling him that she loved him.

He knew that he loved her. He thought about it all the time. She was able to squeeze her way into his heart so easily. She was so easy to love. Intelligent, kind to many but strong-willed and independent when she had to be. How could he not love her? He loved her obsession with books because he found himself relating to it. Her soft voice when they spoke at night. Him trying to stay awake, desperate to finish their never-ending conversations because he loved talking to her. He could talk to her about anything and she didn't mind. She never found him annoying... she never groaned in his presence or pushed him away when she had too much of him. He loved her. But it was so strange to think she could really love him... especially with all of his many flaws.

His arms wrapped around her body. Desperate for her affection. He hated telling her about it, having to watch as she struggled with it. He breathed out a sigh and rubbed her back gently. They couldn't be any closer together but he really did crave it.