Flight 05 [Batman]
Title: Flight
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Batman
Pairing: Nigma/Crane, slash
Main Characters: Edward Nigma, Jonathan Crane
Jonathan was used to anger. There were times when anger was all he felt from the Scarecrow. It wasn't very often that he was so outraged as himself.
It was oddly liberating to give into his sense of rage. And the Batman was the perfect target. They had a history of animosity.
To see Edward's bruise-mottled face and torso made Jonathan want to kill Batman. Murderous thoughts filled his mind to the point that he thought he'd blacked out for a few seconds. It was an overwhelming rush of *rage* that made his heartbeat thunder in his ears and his eyes went momentarily blind.
Every particle of his being was focused on the thought of hurting Batman, of damaging him so badly he would never again be able to fight. He imagined breaking the Batman's forearms, breaking bone until those fists were nothing but chunks of meat hanging from shattered wrists.
He would break the Batman's legs with a sledgehammer. He would hit hard enough to damage organs, but he wouldn't kill him. No, Jonathan would leave Batman alive to face the consequences of his actions.
Edward moaned and shifted on the bed. Even with the drugs, he was still in some pain.
"Sh, sh. It's all right." Jonathan carefully brushed his forehead. "Sleep and heal. I'm here and I won't let anything else happen to you."
He pushed his rage into a compartment of his mind and focused on caring for Edward. There would be time for thoughts of revenge later. Edward needed him now.
*
For the next four days Jonathan oversaw Edward's drugged sleep, cleaning his wounds and changing bandages as needed. The only time he left Edward's bedside was when he went to the store for groceries and more medical supplies.
He knew without a doubt that if he hadn't been there, Edward would have died. Even if he hadn't needed emergency surgery, the man was in such a bad state that he was helpless to care for himself.
The Batman had beaten him with no kind of mercy. It had been attempted murder, pure and simple.
Jonathan was relieved when Edward began showing signs of lucidity. It was proof that Edward was nearly out of the woods.
"What are you doing here?" Edward asked on the fifth day.
"You called me," Jonathan said. "It's a good thing that you did too, as you are in quite a state."
"I can tell." Edward flexed his limbs, wincing when it tugged on his chest wound. "What's the prognosis, doctor? Will I live?"
"Barely. I was able to alleviate some of the damage to your body, but the trauma to your brain is permanent."
"Was that a joke?"
"Maybe. Here," Jonathan offered a juice box with the straw already embedded in it, "drink. Your throat is probably dry."
Edward's eyes traced over the intravenous line sticking out of his left arm. The bag hanging from the metal pole was half empty. "It is," he said. He made no move to hold the juice box himself as he sucked on the straw.
"So what's the prognosis, doctor?" Edward asked once his mouth wasn't so dry. "Will I live?"
"If you don't have another run-in with a set of fists." Jonathan set the juice box down on the table. "I hope that next time you see the Batman, you choose to run rather than stay and fight."
"Believe me, I had no plans to fight him," Edward said. "He took me very much by surprise. He seemed more than a bit crazed."
"Ah. So he was like the rest of us." Jonathan began adjusting the medical equipment, long-fingers turning dials with easy grace.
"If you ask me, the Batman is the maddest of us all. He and the Joker belong together." Edward slowly drew in a deep breath, wincing at the discomfort of his bruised ribs. "I just wish he wouldn't take his frustrations out on me. My poor body can't handle much more abuse."
"Perhaps it's time to change professions, hm?"
Spotting the raised arch of Jonathan's brow, Edward made a hissing sound. "Riddle me this, would I still be myself if I lived as someone else? No. The Batman is one of the perils of a life of crime, and it will be a perk once he and the Joker enact their inevitable violent murder-suicide."
"You say such lovely things," Jonathan drolled. He stopped his fussing and looked into Edward's eyes. "You will be in quite a lot of pain over the next few days, but there's not much danger of you dying. Now, sleep."
"But I'm not tired," Edward said. And he hadn't been, only now he could feel himself being dragged down and *down*. "What did you do?"
"You need to rest, Edward. I will be here when you wake." Jonathan began tidying up, tucking things back into his medical bag.
"Wha' are you gonna do?" Edward slurred. No matter how he fought it, his eyelids insisted on closing.
Dimly he felt the cool press of lips against his forehead. "I am only doing what needs to be done. Sleep, Edward. Dream of pleasant things."
Edward wanted to raise an objection, but it was too late.
He slept.
TBC...
Author: Feygan
Fandom: Batman
Pairing: Nigma/Crane, slash
Main Characters: Edward Nigma, Jonathan Crane
Jonathan was used to anger. There were times when anger was all he felt from the Scarecrow. It wasn't very often that he was so outraged as himself.
It was oddly liberating to give into his sense of rage. And the Batman was the perfect target. They had a history of animosity.
To see Edward's bruise-mottled face and torso made Jonathan want to kill Batman. Murderous thoughts filled his mind to the point that he thought he'd blacked out for a few seconds. It was an overwhelming rush of *rage* that made his heartbeat thunder in his ears and his eyes went momentarily blind.
Every particle of his being was focused on the thought of hurting Batman, of damaging him so badly he would never again be able to fight. He imagined breaking the Batman's forearms, breaking bone until those fists were nothing but chunks of meat hanging from shattered wrists.
He would break the Batman's legs with a sledgehammer. He would hit hard enough to damage organs, but he wouldn't kill him. No, Jonathan would leave Batman alive to face the consequences of his actions.
Edward moaned and shifted on the bed. Even with the drugs, he was still in some pain.
"Sh, sh. It's all right." Jonathan carefully brushed his forehead. "Sleep and heal. I'm here and I won't let anything else happen to you."
He pushed his rage into a compartment of his mind and focused on caring for Edward. There would be time for thoughts of revenge later. Edward needed him now.
*
For the next four days Jonathan oversaw Edward's drugged sleep, cleaning his wounds and changing bandages as needed. The only time he left Edward's bedside was when he went to the store for groceries and more medical supplies.
He knew without a doubt that if he hadn't been there, Edward would have died. Even if he hadn't needed emergency surgery, the man was in such a bad state that he was helpless to care for himself.
The Batman had beaten him with no kind of mercy. It had been attempted murder, pure and simple.
Jonathan was relieved when Edward began showing signs of lucidity. It was proof that Edward was nearly out of the woods.
"What are you doing here?" Edward asked on the fifth day.
"You called me," Jonathan said. "It's a good thing that you did too, as you are in quite a state."
"I can tell." Edward flexed his limbs, wincing when it tugged on his chest wound. "What's the prognosis, doctor? Will I live?"
"Barely. I was able to alleviate some of the damage to your body, but the trauma to your brain is permanent."
"Was that a joke?"
"Maybe. Here," Jonathan offered a juice box with the straw already embedded in it, "drink. Your throat is probably dry."
Edward's eyes traced over the intravenous line sticking out of his left arm. The bag hanging from the metal pole was half empty. "It is," he said. He made no move to hold the juice box himself as he sucked on the straw.
"So what's the prognosis, doctor?" Edward asked once his mouth wasn't so dry. "Will I live?"
"If you don't have another run-in with a set of fists." Jonathan set the juice box down on the table. "I hope that next time you see the Batman, you choose to run rather than stay and fight."
"Believe me, I had no plans to fight him," Edward said. "He took me very much by surprise. He seemed more than a bit crazed."
"Ah. So he was like the rest of us." Jonathan began adjusting the medical equipment, long-fingers turning dials with easy grace.
"If you ask me, the Batman is the maddest of us all. He and the Joker belong together." Edward slowly drew in a deep breath, wincing at the discomfort of his bruised ribs. "I just wish he wouldn't take his frustrations out on me. My poor body can't handle much more abuse."
"Perhaps it's time to change professions, hm?"
Spotting the raised arch of Jonathan's brow, Edward made a hissing sound. "Riddle me this, would I still be myself if I lived as someone else? No. The Batman is one of the perils of a life of crime, and it will be a perk once he and the Joker enact their inevitable violent murder-suicide."
"You say such lovely things," Jonathan drolled. He stopped his fussing and looked into Edward's eyes. "You will be in quite a lot of pain over the next few days, but there's not much danger of you dying. Now, sleep."
"But I'm not tired," Edward said. And he hadn't been, only now he could feel himself being dragged down and *down*. "What did you do?"
"You need to rest, Edward. I will be here when you wake." Jonathan began tidying up, tucking things back into his medical bag.
"Wha' are you gonna do?" Edward slurred. No matter how he fought it, his eyelids insisted on closing.
Dimly he felt the cool press of lips against his forehead. "I am only doing what needs to be done. Sleep, Edward. Dream of pleasant things."
Edward wanted to raise an objection, but it was too late.
He slept.
TBC...