The bandages were tight around my bruised ribs, each step sending a lingering jolt through them as I was ushered to a back exit. I hissed softly through my teeth and rubbed at the blood flecks on my chin from where I'd bitten my cheek sometime in the scuffle earlier that night. Or was it morning? There was no way to tell in this dank hallway and no way of finding out from my silent, grimfaced escort. He wasn't anything special. Tall, heaving with muscle, thug-like. He kept his beady little eyes on me, which I ignored in favor of watching the paint-chipped walls go by, if only to shrug off the uncanny feeling of being watched. I breathed in carefully though my nose, the scent of blood and lilacs lingering as I readjusted the soft, silky fabric of the scarf wrapped round my neck. The man who'd patched me up clucked disdainfully when he'd seen my injuries, then promptly paled when he noticed what I was wearing. The flowing piece of fabric was significant, though how and why hardly mattered in the face of my imminent release.

I hadn't seen hide or hair of the Rouges since waking up on an uncomfortable cot, which was more odd than a relief. Instead, I'd been checked over, handed a questionable bottle of painkillers and shuffled out the door. Still groggy, I had yet to think of my agreement in any detail and was more than happy to stew in silence.

We turned a corner and approached a metal door, which prompted the man behind me to edge around my shivering form to unlock and pull it open. A blast of bitterly cold wind flew into my face, snow flurries whirling along the crumbling cement. He gestured and I complied. Then the door slammed shut, locked tight behind me.

I sighed as best I could, stiffly trying to shut my returned jacket. Alas, I wasn't having much luck.

I felt blank, hollow. What do you do, what do you think, after you'd been mugged and kidnapped? What were you supposed to feel?

The lamp light overhead flickered, sending streaks of shadows around me. I was in a dirty back alley (again), and just beyond the horizon I could see the tiniest speck of pre-morning light. Gingerly, I stepped down from the stoop I been lingering on, limping slowly towards the nearest street and trying, with much difficulty, to spot any ice laying in wait to take me out. Thus preoccupied, I didn't see him.

"I knew it!" Came the harsh whisper.

Startled, I flinched, head whipping up to face the silhouette lingering in the shadows just off to the side of the alleys entrance. I take in the dark green suit jacket, the gloves, the god damned bloody glasses- and I scowl, gripping at my chest to stiffly encourage more oxygen to my aching lungs.

Blank faced, I step past as quickly as I can manage, desperate to find a taxi working at this hour. Nigma follows, mutt-like. His voice has a disturbingly giddy ring to it.

"When you answered my riddle I knew, I knew it had to be you. I'd worked on that one for ages and-"

"I didn't." I interrupt flatly, stopping a few yards down the block at a conveniently placed bus stop. I wonder if I should tell the authorities to stop providing transportation for their criminals, but brush it off as wishful thinking. Instead, I stare at the bus schedule musingly, lamenting my lack of a watch.

"I- what?" He stammers, nearly speechless. Pity. And it had been so close too. I glance at him, annoyed.

"I didn't answer your riddle."

"Yes you did." He insists, strange gleam in his eye, hands fidgeting. It's beginning to freak me out, enough that I'm starting to come out of my apathy-induced haze. "You said: Dead Man, right? That was-"

"No." I draw out the word, because, obviously, he's stupid. It occurs to me that it just might be the other way around, but I've had a very shitty night, and the guy's being a tad irritating. Freaking pervert kidnapper. I don't hesitate to be insufferably blunt. "I was just thinking what you would be if you didn't get your hands off my ass."

There's an awkward pause between us and I click my tongue, whishing for a bus, a taxi, anything, right about now. Then-

"Fickle flower flows fleetingly over water wandering where it wills. Up, down, turned around. Glad one, then sad one, then none."

Seriously? Did I not just say that I have no idea what- wait. I might...

No. My face twists. I'm not going to do it. I open my mouth-

He perks up intently-

-and all that comes out is a lackluster question. "You got the time?"

His expression skews and he frowns, almost petulantly. It's hard taking him seriously when he looks so much like a brat, but then a nerve in my sore leg pinches and I'm reminded of how dark it is and how alone I am with a man who eventually goes on to play riddle games with the freaking Batman-

Yeah. Careful girl.

"Ten to five." He mutters halfheartedly and I turn in time to see him tugging his sleeve back over a large wrist watch, the barest hint of a green question mark peaking through the glass. Inwardly, I roll my eyes. Good god. It's happening already. Am I detecting a hint of suicidal sarcasm on my part? I must have hit my head somewhere along the line.

"Thanks." Shifting my freezing feet so I move slightly away from his despondent (I think) form, I stare off into the gloom, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

Minutes pass agonizingly slow and I rub my arms, blow on my fingers and fix my blond hair (it's filthy) just to pass the time. Then something occurs to me.

"Hey." I croak. Swallowing to clear my raspy throat, I try again, louder. "Hey!"

He looks up from where he's been glaring at the snow covered sidewalk, clenching his purple- gloved hands and grinding his teeth. The look he fires at me is scathing, barely any recognition in his posture, a stranger to me already, but I have to ask while I've got his attention.

I swallow. "Why'd you help me?"

Really, I want to ask him what he wants, but one does not simply as the Riddler such an open-ended question.

Green meets brown as our eyes lock and something very strange happens.

His face begins to color.

Its light enough to see clearly now, and I watch, silent and incredulous, as the cherry travels quickly from his cheeks, down his neck and beneath his collar. My gaze snaps back up to his face, only to catch its fleeting appearance at his ears before they're covered by his wavy red-brown hair and that ridiculous bowler hat.

My. God.

He's blushing.

He can't

Heat suffuses my face. Suddenly I recall that one E. Nigma hadn't had much luck in the romance department before, well… he went criminal, what with him bein' an awkward duck and all.

And I'd kissed him. Sort of. Unintentionally.

Damn.

Where was that damned bus?!

Five on the dot (or so the side of the vehicle said), and the bus rattles into place, stopping with an overly loud hiss. It breaks the self-conscious silence waving between us, and I lurch forward, the rubber of my boots making a horrible squeaking sound.

Suddenly he's shoving something at me before I can make the first step, and a hand comes up to clutch it as I teeter, the other reaching up to balance myself against the bus door.

"For the bird." He grunts and already I can see his gaze wavering, darting off to the side, words almost coming out as a question, confusion beginning to cloud his features.

Then the emotion drops and he's just another familiar blank-faced zombie, scowling at the world and its inadequacies.

I sigh to the sound of Edwards footsteps waking away from me, elated to be free of his presence, relieved that he forgot and…disappointed.

I'd been awhile since I'd talked to someone. It'd been…nice. Sort of. Sans kidnapping.

I bite my lip, ignoring the bus driver's impatient huff. I have seconds to get onto the bus before the pudgy man forgets and drives away, but something is nagging at me.

I make my decision.

"Hey!" I shout at The Riddlers' back and he starts, nearly a half a block away. He swivels, head tilting as I hop gingerly onto the first step of the bus, pushing the resisting door as it tries to close.

I see the arrogant quirk of an eyebrow and grin, all teeth and smugness.

"The riddle! Its: A Woman."

Then the sliding door shuts in my face and I'm one bus ride closer to blessed, glorious sleep.


AN: No, its not a Riddler/OC romance. Eddie's just awkward.

~Delgodess