'Between You and Me'
Characters: Edward Nygma, Riddlerbots (three OCs)
Synopsis: For once, Edward has someone to take care of him.
It got to the point even Nikola noticed something wasn't right. And when Nikola noticed, it was time to do something about it.
Over the last few days, something had been coming over their dad. It was almost as though his battery was losing charge, except that Alan was pretty sure he didn't have one. He was not quite sure how his dad worked, but he knew there were no batteries involved.
Usually their dad didn't sit in one place for so long. And when he did, he usually didn't just sit there staring at what he was doing with such an empty expression on his face. Alan was not quite sure how those worked either, since he didn't really have one, but usually his dad made a lot of faces instead of just the one. And he always had those dark circles under his eyes, but they were beginning to look really bad. Alan hadn't asked about it yet because usually his dad was not forthcoming about these things. If Alan did ask he was just going to say he was fine and Alan should go watch Ada or something. Alan didn't mind watching Ada – Ada was very fun – but he knew well enough by now that he was the responsible one and that meant being responsible for his dad whether he wanted Alan to be or not.
Ada was showing Alan something with LEDs and a breadboard, which he could have made perfectly well by himself but she had just learned about recently, when Nikola came into the room and said, Dad's making that noise again.
I know, Alan told him. He'd remembered that sometimes his dad did that after having one of those cigarette things, and he'd figured out it was called coughing and that it was bad. Unfortunately, that was all he knew. He knew his dad had medicine to stop his head from hurting, but not if he had one for the coughing. It had been worse this morning than ever before. Nikola sat down and picked up one of Ada's pink lights.
Do you know how to fix it?
No, Alan said grudgingly. Nikola tossed the LED back into the pile and Ada leaned over to snatch it back up and apply it to her circuit.
Well, you're the smart one. Do something.
Alan crossed his arms. It doesn't work like that. If he knew what to do, he would have done it already.
Besides. Nikola wasn't one to talk. He never figured anything out. All he was good for was moving things.
No, he couldn't think that way. His dad had explained all of this to him. It wasn't Nikola's fault he was dumb and unfeeling. He was made that way.
Alan, if he's dying you're the only one who has any idea of what to do.
Dad is dying? Ada shrieked, dropping her wire strippers and grabbing onto Alan's arm. You can't let him die!
He's not dying, Alan said.
He could be.
Dad's gonna die!
He's not dying! Alan snapped. Don't you think he would have told us if he were?
No, Ada and Nikola said in unison. Alan had no argument.
Alright, fine. He probably wouldn't have. He stood up and waved at the other two to do the same. We'll go ask him and settle this.
If we ask he'll tell us if he's dying? Nikola asked in confusion, though he did get up.
He… could, Alan hedged. He wasn't sure if their dad actually would tell them that. Ada took possession of his hand.
Let's go ask him then!
And so the three of them went upstairs to where their dad's favourite desk was – or what they thought was his favourite desk, anyway; it was the one he spent the most time at – and discovered that his head was on top of it, and his arms too, and his face said something Alan didn't think he'd seen before but it was something between 'upset' and 'sad'. His glasses were still on so this position was not intentional.
He's dead! Ada shrieked, and Alan had to pull her back with a lot of force to keep her from jumping on top of him with even more gusto than usual.
He's not dead. He's sleeping.
How do you know?
He picked her up and put her down closer to Nikola, who was more suited to hold her down if it came to it. Because he's still pink, that's how.
What does that have to do with anything!
Ada, stop yelling, Nikola said. You're going to wake him up.
If he's dead I wanna wake him up!
He's not dead! Alan and Nikola told her simultaneously.
Ada sat herself down under their dad's chair and attached herself to his leg before either of them could make a move to stop her, and it was more trouble than it was worth to get her to let go. Nikola looked to Alan.
So he's not dead. But there's some sort of problem, here.
He's dying! yelled Ada from beneath the chair.
He's not dying, Alan snapped, wishing she would stop saying that. He's just… he's… broken. A little.
And he's so broken he's gonna die!
No! Dad has a self-repair function. But it takes a few days. He just needs some time for that to work.
How many?
It… varies. This looks like it will take… three days. He actually had no idea, but if Ada kept on like that she was going to wake him up, and Alan did know that their dad did not sleep enough at all. He needed to keep doing that for as long as possible. Three days sounded like a good number, though.
And he won't die?
He's not going to die.
Well, I'm glad that's sorted out, said Nikola, and he was walking away when Alan called him back.
What.
Let's take Dad to bed. He's not supposed to sleep here.
How do you know?
Because this is furniture for working. Beds are furniture for sleeping. Unless his dad worked while he was sleeping, which Alan honestly would have believed. Nikola hesitated in his return.
He's going to be mad if he wakes up while I'm carrying him. He'll be really, really mad.
I guess we'd better hurry up, then. Alan stepped over and carefully sat his dad up as gently as possible so that Nikola could lift him out of the chair. He caught the glasses as they slipped off his dad's face and handed them to Ada. Let go of his leg, Ada. We're going to put him in bed. You can have his leg back when we get there.
She did as he asked without a fight, which was surprising, until she started trying to fit the glasses onto her face. Alan knew what a sigh was, even if he was unable to actually perform one, and he did so in his mind now. Ada was so flighty sometimes.
The three of them went upstairs, to the part where all the rooms with the beds were; there was one their dad kept all his clothes in, but he didn't use it very often for anything else. Despite desks being work furniture, their dad used them for sleeping on a lot. Nikola went to lay him down before Alan stopped him.
We have to put him under the blanket.
Ada jumped around to the opposite side and helped Alan pull it down, and Nikola laid their dad down as gently as he was able to. He wasn't designed for finesse. Once they'd covered their dad up with the blanket Nikola wandered off again. As far as he was concerned, the problem had been solved.
Ada climbed up on the bed, glasses abandoned at the foot of it, and wiggled herself underneath their dad's head. Alan gave her one of the flat pillows to put in her lap, because she always forgot that part. Then she started rubbing the top of their dad's head, which they all knew he liked very much.
He's gonna be fixed soon, right?
Yeah, Alan said, without really knowing if that was true. He's fine. Everyone gets a little broken sometimes.
When his dad woke up a few hours later, he didn't really look any less tired. He started to sit up, looking around in a sort of dazed confusion, but Alan put a hand on his shoulder.
Just – stay like that, okay? You're resting.
His dad just pressed his fingers into his eyes for a minute.
"Where are Ada and Nikola." His voice was weak and quiet and it made Alan sad to hear it. He had to wait for his dad to finish coughing before he answered,
Ada is playing with her circuit and Nikola went outside to watch the militia.
His dad nodded and then started to get up a second time, and Alan shook his head.
You're not going to self-repair if you get up, I don't think.
His dad looked up at him bemusedly and then lay back down, closing his eyes. "I don't have time for this."
Dad, what's… what's wrong with you? What's happening? His dad didn't like this sort of question, but Alan had been sitting here on the bed for a while thinking it over and he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe his dad really was dying. What would he do then? They hadn't even finished the car yet!
"Nothing."
The others aren't here and I won't tell. Alan put a hand on his dad's arm. You can talk to me, Dad. He reached out to stop his dad from getting up a third time, but he shook his head and said,
"I'm just sitting up, Alan." He looked off into the other side of the room for a moment, then said, "What I'm getting from this is that you won't let me out of bed."
Well, I… That sounded a bit bossy, not to mention difficult to enforce, but it was what he was going for. I just –
"I'm not angry with you. But I have a headache. If I can't get up you're going to have to get my aspirin."
I know where it is, Alan said. If I leave you'll stay here?
His dad nodded. "Between you and me… I don't really want to get up."
Alan climbed off the bed and left the room, intending to complete this task as quickly as possible. His dad would stay put for now, but he was very good at convincing himself to change his mind. Especially when he had work to do. Alan didn't know exactly what his dad was so concerned with finishing, only that the list of things he had in order to do so was very, very long.
He meant only to get the medicine and some water for his dad to drink it with, until he thought of something that his dad really might like. He hoped the extra few minutes weren't enough for him to change his mind before Alan got back.
He hadn't, not that Alan could see; he'd just leaned over and pressed his hands into his head. This worried Alan. The amount of headaches his dad was getting had been steadily increasing. He knew enough to figure out that pain was very, very bad.
Here, Alan said, and his dad looked up at him and actually smiled.
"And you made tea as well! That's a nice surprise." He swallowed the medicine with some of the water in the bottle Alan had brought and then accepted the tea.
Peppermint is the evening one, isn't it? Alan asked with some trepidation. His dad could be very particular about his routines. He didn't think he would be mad, exactly, if Alan brought the wrong one, but it would bother him no matter how much he tried to hide it.
"Yes." He gestured to the space on his left. "Sit over here."
Alan did so, watching as his dad took a drink of the tea. He still looked a little like he had when he was asleep, that cross between 'upset' and 'sad', but somewhat better at least. So what's going on, Dad?
"I have a cold, that's all," his dad answered. "I'll be fine in a couple of days. This just has to blow over."
So you're not dying, right?
"No. I have – " He shook his head. "Well, you could put it like that, but it's a little overdramatic."
You are dying? Alan said in alarm. His dad shrugged.
"Sort of. Illness is a sign of something trying to kill me. This won't, not unless I am sorely compromised somehow, but I don't see that happening."
So you just have to stay here until you aren't… don't have a cold anymore.
His dad frowned. "No. I can't stay here. I have work to do."
Alan folded his arms. You work too much.
"Alan, I have already explained this to you. I do not have time for this. I have to finish the list."
Or you could let me look at it and work on it for you.
"That's not necessary. I'm going to finish this and then I'm getting up." As if to prove his point, he took a drink of the tea. Alan closed his hands.
You said you didn't want to get up.
"I – I changed my mind."
You shouldn't be getting up. I know your eyes get like that when you're tired. He suddenly realised that this was just going to turn out the same way it always did and climbed off the bed. Never mind. You don't care so why should I?
"Alan – "
You never listen, so I just won't talk anymore. I'll go find Ada. She values what I have to say. And he had taken a few steps towards the doorway when his dad said warningly,
"Alan."
That was the trouble voice. He didn't like that one.
Yes, he answered, trying not to sound cowed. He didn't think he'd really done anything wrong, other than telling his dad what to do. And he knew his dad didn't like that, but Alan was right! He knew he was right!
"Don't talk to me like that. It's impolite."
But you don't listen! Alan said, turning around with his hands spread. And you lie!
His dad actually looked away from him then, as if there were something he hadn't seen on the other side of the room. "That's… a harsh way to – "
Stop! Alan shouted, and he knew he was going to be in trouble now but he wasn't sure he even cared anymore. That's not any better than the lying!
His dad sighed and leaned into the pillows behind him, or that seemed to be his goal originally; what happened was he started to cough again, and Alan had to intercede because his fingers somehow let go of the cup he was trying to hang onto. When it stopped his dad put his hand on his head again. His eyes were closed. Alan felt sorry for him, and wanted to apologise and let what he'd said go, and doing that would be good right now. But his dad wasn't in the mood to argue right now, and if Alan didn't speak up he might never get another chance to know he was listening. He put the tea on the table and asked,
What causes that?
His dad took a long breath. "During this kind of illness, mucus builds up in the airways. It makes breathing difficult. The purpose of coughing in this case is to clear the lungs." His voice was very flat, as though he weren't talking about himself. Probably he didn't want to be. There were things about being organic that his dad did not like talking about, and this seemed to be one of them.
And what will stop it?
His dad looked at him directly, seriously, in that way he evaluated things with. Alan did not like this look. "Why does any of this matter to you."
Alan realised he was still holding the cup and put it down on the table beside the bed. He took one of his thumbs with the other hand. If I was broken, you'd want to fix me, wouldn't you?
His dad's eyebrows tilted up a little. "Well, yes. What does that have to do with – "
That's sort of what you are right now, right?
His dad looked away. "Don't call me that." His voice had gone smaller and Alan did not like that. But he had to say the next part anyway.
I think you always are, even when you don't have a cold. I think you're not supposed to be like this.
He really had made his dad feel bad this time. He could tell by the way he wouldn't look at him. His dad had said looking at someone while you talked to them was important.
You were different, once.
"Is there a point to this?"
He didn't sound mad, though; Alan didn't know exactly what he sounded like, but it was something like sad. Alan decided to return to his place on the bed, where he folded himself onto his knees and pressed his hands together.
I'm not supposed to know and I wish I didn't. I want to believe whatever you tell me is true. But I can't. So keep the pretend for Ada and let me help. And not just with your projects. With you.
"I'm not your responsibility, Alan."
You make me your responsibility when you don't take care of yourself!
His dad didn't answer that. Alan was beginning to feel like being sick meant you wanted to be left alone, and probably not bothered when you didn't feel well enough to defend yourself. And he wanted to make his dad feel better, he really did. But it was hard when your dad was the most stubborn person in the world and wouldn't tell you what to do. There was one thing he knew that helped.
Can I – No, he couldn't word it like that. Do you want a hug, Dad?
It took him a minute to nod, just once, but Alan would take it. He leaned over and put his arms around his dad as carefully as he could – he had seen the bruises Ada's reckless clutches left on skin – and with his free arm his dad did the same.
What will make the cold stop? Alan asked after a little bit. He'd make it stop if his dad would tell him how.
"Time, mostly." His dad paused to clear his throat. "Sleep."
If you sleep you'll feel better.
His dad nodded.
But you don't like sleeping.
"It's… I don't have time, Alan –"
Well, you have to make time now. I will go work on the list. And when you feel better you can inspect it and tell me how you would have done it and fix it if you have to, but at least it will be started. He sat up, moving back over the side of the bed again. Sleep as long as you need to. You can trust me to handle things.
"I do," his dad said. He hadn't opened his eyes since lying back.
Alan was just going to leave, to start on the list and get as much of it done as he possibly could, but he hesitated right before starting to do so. He walked to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge of it, putting a furtive hand on his dad's arm.
I know you don't like this. I don't like it either. But I love you, Dad, and that means I worry. And the only way not to worry is to do something about it.
That wasn't an upset look his dad was giving him, was it?
Alan stood up and when he turned around his dad was holding onto his arm, so he had to look back. When he did, his dad said, "Son," but that was all.
Yes? He was a little confused.
"I…" His dad shook his head and turned onto his side, the hand disappearing under the pillow. "Later."
Okay. As he finally got to leaving, he said, I'll tell Ada to come see you later. She can play with your hair, you both like that.
All he got for that was a nod, barely visible, but that was fine. His dad was listening. He was letting Alan help him for real this time, and trusting him too. He was going to make the most of this opportunity. He was going to prove to his dad that he didn't have to work so hard, that he did have time to take care of himself if only he would accept a little help now and then. And he was going to get through that list, because he had the suspicion that his dad really had been different once, had been happier, and once this mission he was doing for that friend was done he would be free to being so once again. With Alan helping him get there. He really, really wanted to know what his dad was like when he was happy.
He opened his dad's desk drawer and pulled out the list.