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Why I don't like Baseball, Jonathan Crane

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"EDWARD NYGMA WHAT DID YOU DO?!" a certain furious doctor Crane shouted into their shared flat at the realization a great number of furniture pieces had been knocked over. His anger increased about tenfold when TWO (count them 2) canisters of his Fear Toxin lay empty on the ground. No voice answered him. No cocky redhead jumped up and responded with a riddle of his own. Jonathan walked silently back into their room. If Eddie was here, he would find him. Listening at the door, he almost moved on until a muffled sob sounded from behind the bed. "Edward. NYGMA. WHAT IS GOING ON!?" He roared before pausing in confusion when the person behind the bed only screamed quietly and resumed crying. "Eddie? What's wrong?" His voice was soothing, calming. Round and warm and very much not Scarecrow who had been in control. "Please." The voice was strained, fearful and cracked, sounding like the owner was pleading for his life. "Please I didn't cheat!" Edward Nygma was the one crying behind the bed. And Jonathan Crane had absolutely no idea why. So, he walked around the edge of the bed to see him properly and cleared his throat with a speech on the edge of his tongue. It died in his mouth when he saw Nygma curled in on himself at the sight of him. "I swear! Please! I did it by myself! I didn't cheat! Please don't!" Jonathan knelt at the edge of the bed and shrugged off his coat. "What are you talking about?" His brow furrowed in confusion at the tears that streamed rivers down Nygma's cheeks. When he held a hand out to try and reassure him it only seemed to scare worse. His voice rose louder, choked in desperation. "Father no please! I didn't cheat Not againPleaseNo!" The gibberish fell from his lips quickly, so quickly Jonathan could hardly discern them from a scream. Then it clicked. The cans of toxin on the floor. Edward's apparent terror. His love (though he rarely admitted it to himself, let alone Eddie) had been given a dosage of Fear Toxin strong enough to make a football stadium of people hallucinate horrors twice over. And there was no way to stop it. Not that Jonathan wouldn't try to help it. "Edward. It's me, Jonathan. Not your father. Not even Him. It's me." he swallowed with a grimace. "Spooky." Gah he hated that nickname. Edward only sobbed harder. "No! Not the bat please! I know that I am horrible at it but please!" His hands covered his head and neck, the stance of one well versed in protecting the spinal cord and brain by themselves. "Father I can't--" his last sentence was cut of with a violent shudder and a complete stop in breath. His hands clutched at his throat, and Crane promptly lost it. If this was potent enough to induce choking and other sensations, he had to try and snap Edward out of it. His long and lanky frame curled over him and smoothed his hair. "Hush, Edward. Riddler. Genius. Love. I know you didn't cheat. I am not your father. I want you to tell me what you see please so I can help you!" A flicker of realization passed through his wild eyes at the clinical yet loving monotone that only Jonathan could produce. His choking stopped and for a moment he was in semi control. Enough to gasp out an explanation. "He always did it. Louisville slugger. So hard I couldn't walk for a day at least every time. Said I was stupid. Lying about my award. Competition. Puzzle." His speech degraded from there "I did it. Not. Cheating. No!" And Jonathan knew he lost him again. "If only I could see what you are! To be there so I can help you!" He held the sobbing and struggling body close. "Be strong Eddie. What is the true identity of Batman? Why are an orange and a bell similar? What does no man want to have but no man want to loose?" He rattled off riddles one after another mindlessly. All of the ones Edward had ever said, mentioned, mumbled, written down in front of him. Anything to make Edward remember who he was now.