"I'm too smart to get sick." Riddler said to himself grumpily. He knew perfectly well that his logic was faulty, and that intelligence and immune systems were not connected, but he thought it nonetheless. He coughed a few times in rapid succession, forcing him to uncurl from his blankets and sit up. He felt like his sinuses were going to pop from the pressure. Edward groaned and rolled over into the covers again. Most people didn't fancy getting sick, but Edward Nigma particularly loathed it. He was all for lying in bed all day, which he had done on several occasions when he was thinking too much to be bothered with such trifling things as lunch, but when he was sick it was hard to think. His felt stuffed with cotton instead of ideas.

There was a soft tapping at the bedroom door before it opened, spreading the yellowish hallway light into Edward's darkened bedroom. "How are you feeling, Boss?" he heard Query ask. He moaned non-committedly in response. This prompted an entertained laugh from Query. Riddler actually put forth the effort to roll over so she could see his irritated glare. It looked like he was about to sneeze, and Query laughed again. In the yellowish light, Edward's skin looked waxy. There were dark circles under his eyes, his nose was red, and his lips were chapped.

His voice was hoarse and gravelly when he spoke. "I feel dead." He stated bluntly. "My throat is swollen, my chest aches from persistent coughing-" as if to prove his point, he was wracked by a throat and chest searing coughing bout that lasted for several seconds. He sniffed a few times, composing himself, and the continued. "My nose has found a way to be stuffed up and runny at the same time, my sinuses are fit to burst, my head hurts, and I'm hungry." Edward listed, each new complaint whinier than the previous one. He was pouting in a way that may have been endearing if there weren't snot dripping from his nose.

Query was silent as he listed his ails, but then grinned when he was finished and barked a laugh. Riddler again shot her a glare, but it looked pathetic. "You really are sick, huh, Boss?" she teased. Edward opened his mouth to make a sarcastic reply, but couldn't due to a coughing spasm. "I'll get you something to eat." Query assured him. "Just try to get some sleep, okay?" The light humor that had been in her voice was replaced with a near maternal tenderness. On that note, she turned and went back into the hall. The door closed, leaving Edward in darkness.

After she was gone, he wriggled up to a sitting position with his head against the headboard and his pillow at the small of his back. He looked around the shadowy room, which was lit only by the red digital clock and what little light was managing to creep around the edges of the blackout curtains, and his gaze landed on Harvey's untouched side of the bed. He swallowed, feeling like he was attempting to swallow a razor blade, and look at the ceiling instead.

It had been a month since Batman and company had dragged Harvey back to Arkham. To Edward, it felt much longer than that, and he was sure that it felt even longer for Harvey. Edward frowned. Now he'd done it. He'd opened this emotional can of worms when he was too sick to do anything about it other than feel miserable. Edward thought of how Harvey would hold him and stroke his hair whenever he was sick. Of course, this usually meant that Two-Face got sick as well, which was really unromantic, but Harvey never complained about it. After all, it gave the two an excuse to stay curled up with each other in bed all day. Thinking of this, Edward grabbed Harvey's pillow. He pressed it to his face, longing in vain for Harvey's scent. His nose was too stuffed to smell anything. With a soft noise between a moan and a growl, Edward curled on to his side, holding the pillow like a child might hold a teddy bear.

He must have dozed off, because he awoke to Echo gently shaking his shoulder. Edward slowly sat up, continuing to hold Two-Face's pillow. On the bedside table, he noticed a steaming bowl of tomato soup, a plate with a halved grilled cheese sandwich on it, and a tall glass of orange juice. "Thank you, Echo." He said, setting Harvey's pillow delicately back on his partner's side of the bed.

"You really are pathetic when you're sick, you know." Echo pointed out. She always had been blunter than Deidre. From her pocket, she took a couple of ibuprofen tablets and a small bottle of NyQuil. She set them on the bedside table, next to the orange juice.

"I've been told." Edward grumbled, reaching for half of the sandwich. He started to nibble at it halfheartedly.

Echo stood there thoughtfully for a moment. "He'll come back. He always does. You'll be okay." She said reassuringly, glancing at Two-Face's side of the bed.

Edward chewed more slowly and then swallowed. He grimaced at the unpleasant friction. "Thank you, Echo." He said sincerely. "I know he will." Echo smiled, nodded, and then left the room. After the door was shut, Edward flipped on the bedside lamp and finished his dinner, including the juice and the medicine. Following his meal, Edward left the light on and curled up with Harvey's pillow as before.