A/N: I might leave this as a one-shot or write more chapters on the other characters depending on how long inspiration chooses to entertain me. Thanks to aquaphoenix, my beta.

Patient 41B: Edward Nashton

Dr Helen Parr sat at her desk, flicking through the notes the late Dr Young had left on her various patients. Since the whole mess with the Joker's non-escape she'd been working overtime to make up for all the doctors who were either still in hospital or in some cases dead. She'd had Hugo Strange and Scarecrow dumped on her already; Arkham wasn't willing to give someone with her amount of experience a chance to interview the more violent inmates, but to be honest she was too grateful to be offended.

However, she had begun to wonder if the less physically dangerous a patient was, the more emotionally draining they became. And from what she'd heard, her latest patient wasn't about to break the pattern. 'Patient 41B: Edward Nashton' it said on the front of the file, then on the inside page 'Also known as: Edward Nigma, The Riddler', and then below that: 'IT IS STANDARD POLICY NOT TO CALL PATIENTS BY ANY PSEUDONYM WHICH IS ASSOCIATED WITH THEIR PARTICULAR FORM OF NEUROSIS/PSYCHOSIS.'

Many of the psychiatrists said that when they first entered into the specialty they never thought there would come a time when gimmicks and crime-specific personas were so prevalent that there had to be a policy regarding it, but the crime patterns for which Gotham City was now famous had already begun to manifest themselves when Helen was a resident. She was used to it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the floor security guards poking his head round the door.

"Er, Miss Parr? Nashton'll be up in 10 minutes."

She looked up, surprised that the time had gone by that fast. She'd only skimmed through his file so far.

"Oh, good, good." The security guard backed out of sight.

She skipped to his list of symptoms, tendencies and diagnoses by other doctors. Obsessive compulsive symptoms, possibly obsessive compulsive personality disorder. Some histrionic tendencies. Symptoms conducive with hypomania at times: decreased need for sleep, intense interests, fast speech patterns. Narcissism. Dr Parr groaned; that explained why Dr Whistler had been so keen to refer him to another doctor.

What do you do with a narcissist? Give them to someone else.

---

Her patient sighed in exaggerated boredom. "Look, Doctor, I know you have a checklist of getting-to-know-you questions and I think we both know you'd rather get to trying to pick my head apart and make pointless connections to past events. And honestly, it'd be more challenging for me."

"Ok then," Dr Parr thought about this, then with a slightly spiteful sense of throwing him in the deep end, "Why don't we talk about your father? I understand Dr Young didn't get very far with that."

He sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Only because she deluded herself into thinking there was further to go."

"And you think there wasn't?"

"Yes, that was the implication." He said this as though explaining to an imbecile why 2 + 2 = 4. For a man who she'd been assured could talk until the cows came home, the Riddler didn't seem overly eager to elaborate, which gave Dr Parr more reason to believe that there was something more.

"Do you think it possible that your father's actions and words could have led to your need to prove your intelligence?"

"Hardly," he scoffed, "It may seem odd to people like you, but I really feel no connection to the man."

"Well, after what he did to you it's not surprising that you do not have much warm feeling towards..."

"That's not what I said," he cut her off, his tone immediately shifting to one of extreme frustration at not making himself clear, "I said I felt no connection. There are more ways to be connected to someone than through love. If I felt the need to try and prove a mentally disturbed man wrong after all these years, then that would also be a connection. But as it is, I do not."

'Discounting/Minimising' Dr Parr wrote in her small, neat handwriting, then realised he had finished his somewhat long-winded explanation.

"But Edward, have you not considered..?" but she was cut off again by her now inexplicably enraged patient.

"'Have I not considered'?! Well, what do you think? That you've somehow reached a conclusion that I cannot? Question: Why must you people continuously underestimate my intelligence? I mean, me!" His voice took on a less edgy and altogether more patronising tone, "Ok, I understand that what's written in that file means you can't take my word for it, but I think you can check further back in that file to how I got here, and well, I think it speaks for itself."

Parr was partway through writing 'Classic Narcisstic tantrum' when he said this last part, and she instinctively tilted the file away, a small movement but none-the-less noticed and greeted with a sharp laugh.

"Ha! Believe me, Dr Young didn't do a good job at all at keeping those details safe. The woman couldn't think up a good password if her life depended on it. I suggest pages eight through to eleven for the best representation of my criminal brilliance. Then perhaps you might deign to speak to me as something more than the average moron that has been in your," he coughed pointedly, "care."

Not quite brave enough to sarcastically say 'Are you done now?', Dr Parr instead opted for continuing speaking as if what he'd just said was perfectly normal for a doctor-patient interview.

"It sounds like you disliked Dr Young somewhat?" After she'd said it she wondered if it was the most appropriate question considering how little time had passed since her death.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. She merely lost my respect." The statement invited further questioning; he was clearly more willing to talk about this, even if he was going to make her get the answers out of him herself.

"Could you explain further?"

"Well, she would on having the hired cretin here," he gestured to the guard still stood by the door, "to manhandle me back to my cell if I got even the slightest bit annoyed."

"And it irritated you to be escorted back by the guard?"

Edward laughed a soft, condescending chuckle, "Dr Parr, I have spent the greater part of...hmm, ten years in and out of this place, and the standard of care hasn't changed that much."

If anything it's probably worse, Dr Parr couldn't help but think to herself.

"Believe me: if I were to allow myself to become annoyed by the methods used, well then I'd be considerably more unhinged than I am now. Besides, once again you have managed to misunderstand me; I didn't say she irritated me. I said she lost my respect. You see, when someone is forced to have another person removed from the room rather than win them over with word alone, well then they have lost that battle of wits, have they not? And why should I respect someone whom I have bested?"

"Most people don't think of psychiatry as a battle of wits..." she began, but was cut off once more.

"Most people are idiots."

"Well, let's look at it another way..."

"I see no reason to."

Helen paused, and began mentally counting ten. 1...2...3...4...

"Question: are you perchance counting to ten?" he asked, as though reading her thoughts, "I only ask because if so," he glanced at the clock, "then that may just be a record."

Ok, that's it, Dr Parr thought, I don't even care if it makes me enemies; I am getting him referred to someone else.

"Well, Edward, you seem to have a good idea of what you don't want to discuss. Anything you would like to talk about?"

"Doctor, do you really think," he gestured to the security guard still stood by the door, "that if I had any choice in the matter I would still be here talking to you?"

"Well there must be something. How are you getting on with the other patients? It's one thing that Dr Young didn't write about in this file."

Edward sighed again, but seemed a lot less aggravated by this question. "Well, let's see; Two-face seems to dislike me, as does Poison Ivy, the former because he's clearly annoyed by my considerable intellectual superiority to him and the latter I'm sure is through a generalised misandry..."

Dr Parr considered reminding him of the rules about pseudonyms, but he seemed to be in mid flow and she didn't want to be the one to interrupt him.

"...and then there's the Ventriloquist who doesn't seem particularly willing to partake in conversation with anyone."

"What about your cellmate?"

"Crane? Oh he's just as eager to pick apart my head as you are. Possibly even more so."