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27 December 2014 @ 12:03 pm
Georgian Nights: A Family Affair: Chapter Three  
Title: Georgian Nights: A Family Affair
Universe: Heavy Nolan with influences by others
Characters: Dr. Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Crane (Kid from the Narrows), Dick Grayson, Edward Nygma/Nigma, Effie Nashton/Enigma (The Riddler's Daughter), Alfred, Jeremiah Arkham.
Pairing(s): Jonathan/Bruce, Richard Grayson/Barbara Gordon
Rating: NC-17 (full story)
Warnings: Violence against criminals and teenagers, male/male sexual situations, adultry.
Word Count: 2,627 (this chapter)/5,725 (full story)
Summary: Two years after "Georgian Nights" ends, the Wayne-Crane Family have bigger problems then relationship drama.
Previous Stories: Georgian Nights, Georgian Nights: In-Betweens.
Previous Chapters:
Chapter I, Chapter II.

Chapter Three: Old Friends and New Beginnings

“Your worst enemy could be your best friend and your best friend your worst enemy”

― Bob Marley


Edward turned in time to catch a young girl, swinging her up into his arms, long red pigtails flying as the girl giggled.

Jonathan blinked, watching the pair as he leaned against the roof door of Gotham General, smoke curling from his lips. “You’re a father?”

Edward gave a tug to one of the girl’s braids before looking up at Jonathan. “Apparently. Trust me, I was rather more surprised than you when child services told me. My little Enigma…”

“Ef-fie,” the girl corrected her father, before resting her head against Edward’s chest, blinking huge brown eyes at Jonathan and the doctor was struck by how much the pair did in fact resemble each other.

“And yet you’re still pulling the shit you do,” Jonathan said, snorting as he flicked the cigarette away, watching as the wind rolled it off of the building.

“Wouldn’t you, if you still had the opportunity?” Edward countered, arching an eyebrow at Jonathan. “If you didn’t drown your true nature behind toxic level of medication and false illusions, you know that you would be out there with the rest of us, watching the masses scream and writhe beneath you.” He set Effie down on the roof, tapping her nose in a silent message.

The girl bounced off to go play in a corner while her father turned his attention back to Jonathan, moving closer to the other man, pressing him back against the roof’s door, his hands easily resting on either side of Jonathan’s head. “This isn’t you, Spooky. Playing the good doctor and proper boyfriend, kept so far away from the precious little lunatics you long to play with…”

Edward’s lips were brushing Jonathan’s as the man spoke, and Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut, torn between past and present, the feel, smell, press, sound of Edward evoking memories he had thought he long buried.

“I’m not that man,” he gasped out, biting his lip as Edward pressed in closer, lips slowly teasing over Jonathan’s ear.

“You would be...if you weren’t so damn afraid,”

Jonathan’s eyes shot open, hands resting against Edward’s chest, fisting the lapels of his suit jacket. Where two seconds ago he had been intending to pull the man closer, now he used his grip to flip them, shoving Edward hard against the door he had just been leaning against, taking pleasure in the rush of shock and fear that filled the redhead’s eyes.

“Lesson one, Eddie, never push a mental patient, you never know when they’ll lash out.” Jonathan drove his knee into Edward’s groin, stepping back at the other man crumpled to the roof in pain. “Lesson two, I fear nothing.” He stalked off, lab coat swirling around him as he shoved Edward aside and heading into the hospital, eager to bury himself into the work of saving people in the emergency room, trying to forget about his heart’s longing to head to the psychiatric ward and talk with the patients there.

“Daddy?” Effie asked, hugging her stuffed Hello Kitty plushie, her head tilted as she watched her father writhe on the ground.


A year ago, Bruce and Jonathan had a long discussion about the future of their relationship. Everything from the boys, to marriage, to Jonathan running back to Georgia in a fit of pique. And the pair had decided, that while the most logical step for ‘normal’ couples would have been a ceremony of sorts, a public declaration of their intent to be together forever, the idea became...complicated when dealing with the Wayne family.

Plus, it wasn’t really that big of a deal to either of them.

So, forgoing the legal disaster that would be marrying the Wayne heir, Jonathan instead presented Bruce with adoption papers for Jeremiah, securing the boy’s future (and ensuring should anything happen to him, Jeremiah still had a home and family), Bruce doing the same for Richard.

Legally and officially, in every sense, they were truly a family, united, not by blood, but by love and the legal morass that was one too many court documents.

And it was with this not!marriage that Jonathan found himself once again playing smiling (if utterly fake) host to yet another Wayne charity function, feeling much like a trophy husband as he smiled and greeted another guest, easily ignoring the veiled insults that came from certain members of the social elite in Gotham (made much more bearable by picturing Scarecrow turning said elitists into so much bloody flesh confetti), while taking shelter with those of both the middle and upper classes who had brains between their ears and had easily accepted Jonathan into their ranks.

He was never sure if he was...frowned at for his birth status, his social ranking...or for the fact he ran around in the night wearing burlap, but he had yet been bored enough to actually ask.

“Jonathan, I would like to introduce you to Jeremiah Arkham, he has come in to take over Arkham Asylum,” Bruce said, holding out a hand to the thin, bespectacled man who had come with him to greet his boyfriend.

Jonathan stiffened at the name, refusing to turn around, his mind shutting down for a moment before attempting to reboot. He swallowed thickly and plastered a smile on his lips, turning to face the man.

And damn if Jeremiah hadn’t changed a single bit since Jonathan had last seen him.

“We’ve met,” Jonathan said, offering a hand to Jeremiah.

The taller man blinked slowly, staring at the hand offered to him as if he was unsure what it was or what to do with it, before grasping it, long fingers curling around Jonathan’s. “Quite. It has been a while, Doctor Crane.” Jeremiah said, his voice cold, thin, empty of anything really.

Jonathan inclined his head before releasing Jeremiah’s hand and offering a gesturing hand towards the two boys now approaching. “My sons, Richard Grayson and Jeremiah Crane,” he offered.

Jeremiah Arkham’s head snapped between the younger and Jonathan, before he caught it, nodding to the two boys, turning on his heel and heading for the bar.

“Well that guy’s creepy,” Richard said, staring after the last heir of Arkham, shivering.


“You named him after me.”

Jonathan turned, watching Jeremiah Arkham approach, leaning against the low fence that surrounded the gazebo he had taken refuge in. “Is it not common for one to name their children after people they admire...people close to them?”

“We are not close,” Jeremiah pointed out, taking a long sip from his glass of whiskey, watching Jonathan.

“We were, once,” Jonathan said, turning away from the man, looking out at the long, rolling hills of the Wayne Estate.

“Mm, before you left my bed to go pursue madness in Gotham City,” Jeremiah countered. He watched Jonathan, before moving slowly, silently up behind him, his hand resting against the other man’s back.

Jonathan, in-spite himself, leaned against the familiar touch, his eyes closing. Once upon a time, he had thought this was everything he wanted...everything he needed. A home to finally belong, someone to share his life with.

But that was years and a lifetime ago, and Jeremiah wasn’t the forever he had thought. He turned, nose brushing over the other man’s neck, inhaling deeply the long forgotten scent of Jeremiah and whiskey, tilting his head up to meet the lips that pressed easily against his own for a moment before he stepped back, putting distance between them.

“I wasn’t the one who walked away first, Jere,” Jonathan said, taking the glass from Jeremiah and draining it, handing it back empty but a few stray ice cubes. “Welcome to Gotham.”

With that, Jeremiah was forced to watch Jonathan walk away from him for the second time, the younger man’s hand finding Bruce’s when the pair met up, Jonathan shaking his head softly to whatever it was Bruce leaned to whisper in his ear. Jeremiah raised his glass to take a long, steading drink...only to remember too late it was empty, the ice hitting his nose.


Edward leaned back in his chair as he stared up at the large mass of screens before him. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Jonathan he would be around, but he never made it clear just how.

“Daddy?” Effie asked, climbing into Edward’s lap, looking up at the various figures on the screens, leaning back against her father’s chest. “What’cha watching?”

“Uncle Jonathan being an idiot,” Edward said, brushing his fingers through his daughter’s long red curls as he spied on the gala, drinking in everything on the screen, mind turning, plotting.

“Oh,” Effie said, hugging her doll, humming softly to herself, her own brown eyes taking in everything that was going on, studying it eagerly to best make her father happy. “Daddy, he’s taking your box,” she said, pointing to a smaller image in an almost forgotten screen.

A wicked grin spilled over Edward’s lips and he hugged his daughter close. “Shall we watch the show?”

She nodded, watching as the present exploded in the man’s hand, green and purple confetti spilling out even as the man screamed in pain. She giggled, kicking her feet at the spray of blood.


“Thank you for the invitation,” Doctor Quinzel said with a smile as she reached out, shaking both Bruce and Jonathan’s hands.

“It was our pleasure, Harleen,” Bruce said, leaning in to kiss the young psychiatrist’s cheek.

Harley blushed, pressing a hand against her cheek. “Aww, ya charmer,” she said, her accent peeking through her words before she cleared her throat. “I’ll call your secretary Monday to go over the figures. Evening Johnny!” She reached out, ruffling Jeremiah’s hair before bouncing off to her waiting motorcycle, long blond pigtails trailing after her.

Jonathan shook his head, waving after her before stiffening as Jeremiah Arkham appeared.

“Mr. Wayne, Doctor Crane,” he greeted, giving them a slight head nod. “Thank you for your...generosity to the Asylum.”

“It was our pleasure,” Bruce said, his voice noticeably cooler towards the other man. Jeremiah and Bruce stared at each other for a long moment, and Jonathan’s hand actually covered his face, wishing everyone around him would just grow up.

“Boys, not now,” he hissed. “You can take them out and measure when we’re not surrounded by most of Gotham.”

“Quite,” Jeremiah said, tearing his eyes away from his staring contest with Bruce, walking down the stairs to his waiting car, ignoring the driver who greeted him.

“Good-bye, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Crane!” A young boy said, running out the front door, followed more lazily by two adults, the female of the pair shaking her head.

“Forgive him, he’s young,” she said, offering her hand to the couple. “It’s been a lovely night, Doctor Crane.”

“The pleasure was ours, Janet,” Jonathan said, playfully kissing her hand. “Are we still on for tea tomorrow?”

“Of course. I will lock Timothy in the attic so he won’t bother us,” she joked, wrapping her arm around Jack’s and waving as they went to catch their hyper son.

“So, how much candy did you two feed him?” Bruce asked as he watched the Drake family leave.

“Several handfuls?” Richard answered with a grin.


Jim chewed on the edge of his pipe, staring down at the bloody disaster that, according to the medics, a man. Honestly, he thought ‘smear’ was a better description, but he didn’t voice that idea.


“No,” Jim said, trying not to punch the voice that had suddenly sounded behind him. Honestly, one of these days, that impulse was going to get the better of him, and sadly, he had a feeling he would come out the worse if he gave into instinct and slugged the Batman.

“Oh?” Jim turned this time, arching an eyebrow at the note of actual curiosity in Batman’s voice, before he shrugged, fingers holding out a blood stained green card.

“Calls himself ‘Riddler’, left that specifically for you.”

Batman accepted the card carefully, being sure not to ruin any evidence on it as he held it between gloved fingers. “They have names now.”

“Hmm,” Jim said, chewing more on the stem of his pipe. “This is the third explosion of the night. The boys in explosives dismantled two more...gifts before they went off.”

“And they each had a card,” Batman guessed.

Jim nodded, turning to say something and rolling his eyes at the empty space that Batman had been in. “I need that card back!” he yelled into the dark night.


Jonathan sat up straighter as he listened to the communicator in his ear grateful Bruce was on the other side of the city and couldn’t see his expression at the moment. He was going to have a long talk to Edward about what was acceptable in his city, but until then...he would do his level best to distract Bruce from Edward’s trail.

Not for his friend’s sake, but for that cute little girl’s, who needed her father. Edward had nothing to do with his choices, really.

And if he could eventually convince himself of that it would be great.

Screaming drew him out of his thoughts and Jonathan looked up over the file he was marking, watching the as the patient across the hall was dragged by Security and two orderlies towards the locked ward. Fingers tightened on the file, the pen held between his fingers snapping in half as he recognized one of his patients from Arkham.

Longing shot through him, a fierce desire to run over there and sedate the man, to help. But his hands were bound, one of several conditions of his medical license being re-instated. He couldn’t help. Couldn’t be within ten feet of any mentally ill patient. It didn’t matter that he knew more than any of these idiots, it didn’t matter that Psychology was his specialty, his gift. If he even so much as looked at one of the psych patients for longer than ten minutes, his head would be on a platter.

And so Jonathan was left trembling, staring at the wall next to the commotion, trying not to lash out and scream at them for doing everything wrong god damnit!


Jonathan jumped, spinning in his chair, looking up at his co-worker and the head of the emergency department. “Hey Carol,” he said, raising a shaking hand, holding out a prescription slip. “I need you to sign off on this for trauma two.”

Yet another restriction that bound him, but somehow needing another doctor to sign off on his prescriptions chafed far less than taking away part of his very being.


1.Yes, this is Nolan-verse, but given the limits of that universe, more and more of the comics are slipping in. for reference, both original and New 52 are used.

2. I have screwed with the ages of everyone younger than Dick...mostly because I was an idiot when I first planned this out and then just gave up on figuring it out. Tim/Effie are both six.

3. Delay: I was accused of plagiarism shortly after chapter two was posted and lost all interest in finishing this story. Obviously that has faded a bit, but I’m still highly annoyed over it.
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Scarecrow Tribute: Mastermind
(no subject) - euphrosyne93739 on November 16th, 2016 10:52 pm (UTC) (Expand)