Across Gotham City, around the same time, two people were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the exact same thing: the Riddler's relationship with Batman.
For Eddie Nigma, the Riddler himself, he was regretting the meeting that took place with Robin hours previously where he admitted to how he saw Batman.
For Tim Drake, Robin the third, he was simply baffled.
They both posed to themselves the same question: Why?
Nigma tore off the sheets and walked over to the window. There was no Bat-signal in the sky. It occurred to him how odd it might appear to some people; to automatically check for the bat-signal whenever looking out a window at night. On the other hand, this was Gotham, so it might not be that unusual. Still.
"Why," he said to himself, clunking his head onto the glass, "Why did I do that?"
"Why, why, why, why, why?"
He hit his head again with each 'why'.
Finally he stopped and sat down on the floor.
He'll never be able to look the Boy Wonder in the eye ever again.
Don't be ridiculous, he told himself, You're the Riddler. You're the smartest person in Gotham, except maybe Batman himself. Maybe. Robin has no right to judge you and you have no right to do anything but hold your head up high.
Although he did like the current Robin, who seemed smarter than the others, so he had to admit that he wasn't sure how he'd feel if Robin judged him.
But Robin hadn't seemed to judge him, come to think of it, he just seemed surprised.
And before Eddie had made his hasty retreat, Robin had almost seemed…
But it didn't matter. Eddie had lost his composure. The Riddler never looses his composure.
Tim didn't get out of bed. He just stared at the ceiling.
There were rumours, of course. There were rumours for most of, if not all, Batman's rogue's gallery. There were even rumours about Batman and Superman. People assuming there was a romantic or lustful relationship between capes and hoods was part of the job. Sometimes it was even true.
And this was one of those situations.
The Riddler, for god's sake.
Tim was confused, a little. For one thing, he never suspected. But then again, Steph had said he terrible at that sort of thing, and "hadn't been built with a gaydar". For another thing, Bruce was the likable one. Batman wasn't supposed to give anybody those feelings.
Well there was Catwoman. Catwoman liked Batman before she knew it was Bruce, right? And there was that one time the Joker tried to make out with him, though Tim had promised afterwards (to an uncharacteristically embarrassed Batman) not to tell anybody. Although that incident could have just been Joker purposely trying to freak them both out.
Tim thought back to his original feelings. Scepticism, at first. Shock, bewilderment. Amusement.
Wait, amusement? Tim sat up, frowning. Did he really think that?
He tried to remember clearly. Yep, there it was. Right after the shock.
Oh, he had thought, well. Riddler and Batman, sitting in a tree. Who would've thought?
Now he thought about it a little more.
He didn't think Bruce had any clue. If anybody was worse at relationships than himself… and he didn't think it was exactly public knowledge. Especially after Riddler told him that he'd meet an untimely death if he spilled the beans (not exactly the precise words but that was the general idea), and wouldn't even leave a riddle so Batman could find the body.
Tim probably wouldn't tell Bruce anyway. There was a part of him that just wanted to burst it out. There was another part, probably the ruthless crime-fighter part, which wanted to keep it over the Riddler if he ever went back to old habits. He didn't know it yet, but there was a third part that was making plans of an entirely different nature.
He sighed and flopped back down onto the bed. He hated secrets, and the more he kept up with being Robin, the more he had.
Heh. If you have a secret, you want to share it, if you share a secret, you don't have it. That about summed it up, really.
--
The next day passed quickly. In the end, Tim still had more sleep the night before than he usually did. Unfortunately, he wasn't used to this, so he almost felt groggy from too much sleep. The ridiculousness of this did not escape him.
He even managed to go through most of the day without thinking too much about the previous night. School occupied most of his thoughts, and Steph barely beat out the Riddler for second place.
He did let something slip when he came home from school to find Dick Grayson there for a visit.
"Dick! What're you doing here?"
"I had stuff to do with Bruce," said Dick.
Tim deposited his backpack on the floor where it would undoubtedly stay there until later when he would belatedly remember his homework. For now, Tim was glad to see Dick, and the feeling was pleasantly mutual.
They exchanged a short hug and sat down to chat.
"So how's it going?" said Dick, "I heard you met up with the Riddler last night."
"Yeah, that was weird," said Tim.
"What happened?"
Tim thought about it for a second. He weighed the options of telling the truth and nobody being able to find the body later, and telling part of the truth, which would involve no broken promises or angry ex-Arkham inmates.
"I think he was just bored," he said finally, "And a little, um, I don't know --"
Lonely, said the dramatic part of Tim's brain.
"Nostalgic?" said Dick.
"Sure."
Dick raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"I don't know how to explain it," said Tim, "It was just weird, is all. I feel like I missed something. Like I should do something? I don't know."
He fell back onto the couch, rubbing his eyes.
"Nigma was always a little off-putting," said Dick, "A little arrogant and totally enamoured with puzzles as well as other things too."
There was something in the tone of Dick's voice in the last comment that Tim should have noticed, but his brain was distracted by a sudden thought.
"If we're in the area again, I might just ask for clarification."
Although this was mostly for Dick's benefit. Tim had no idea what he wanted to ask Riddler, but at the very least, the man's intentions were clear.
Except they really weren't, were they? Nigma seemed to have no intention of actually making a move on Batman, even though he sent the riddle. He wanted to keep it a secret, except he told Robin. It was somewhat contradictory and confusing.
"If it makes you feel better," said Dick, "You should. But you guys really don't need one of the few villains-gone-straight complicating things anyway."
"Yeah," said Tim, "But if I don't figure this out I think my brain will start to leak."
"It hasn't already?"
"Okay. 'My brain will start to leak again'. Happy now?"
Dick just laughed.
Tim smiled as he made up his mind. Sometime during patrol, he'd drop by the Riddler's for a little chat.