A/N: By Lillith. Takes place while the Jokerz are working for the Joker, before the events of the movie.
If there was one season Ghoul truly hated, it was winter.
With a black trench coat over his usually threadbare clothes, he made his way through the slush, grumbling all the way. He wouldn't even be out in this weather if the stupid coffee maker hadn't busted that morning, leaving him without a solid dose of caffeine. And of course, no one would shell out enough to buy a new one, so he'd had to scrape together nickels and pennies to be able to afford his daily pick-me-up. Not to mention he had to slosh through the mushy remains of last week's storm.
He knocked on the candy factory's side door. Woof opened the door, greeting him enthusiastically. Ghoul gave him what remained of the coffee, and he quickly polished it off.
"Look who's finally back." Bonk said annoyedly.
"And who's fault is it that I had to go out in the first place?" Ghoul reminded him. It had been a lesson to everyone to never let Bonk handle making coffee ever again. Bonk didn't reply.
He passed by the Deed's playing solitaire, and in the distance he heard Chucko using scrap metal for target practice. He didn't see Woof, but knew that he was off exploring the numerous rooms of the factory. Things around the Jokerz Playground, as the Deed's had dubbed it, were slow these days. The cold weather made everyone lazy.
He slipped into his room, hardly bigger than a closet and at the very back of the factory away from everyone else, and threw himself on the makeshift bed, coughing. That was the reason he hated winter; he always got sick so easily. He hoped that it wouldn't be too bad, but his expectations were low. He'd never been good at dodging the bullet.
Through the coughing and sneezing, he hadn't been able to get a good night's sleep. Not that he usually did, but still. Placing the back of his hand to his head, he felt for a fever. Yep. He was definitely burning up. He sighed and sat up, a coughing fit wracking his body. Collapsing back to the worn mattress, he pulled his blankets around him more tightly and shivered, in spite of the relative warmth of the factory.
He squeezed his eyes shut and silently cursed whatever deity had decided that it would be a good idea to dominate a quarter of the year with cold and sickness.
Nobody really noticed Ghoul's absence until Woof woke up and entered the main area, where the actual production line used to be before it was gutted. He knew better than anyone that Ghoul never slept late—mostly because he rarely slept at all. So he went to check it out.
He found him curled up in bed, shivering uncontrollably in spite of the warmth of the room. He turned and looked at him, his face red even through the skin bleach. He coughed pitifully.
"Morning." he said. "Or is it afternoon?"
Woof knew how easily he got sick, and was just glad that the one good thing that had come of his mutation was the inability to catch human virus'. Hanging out with Ghoul, he'd be getting sick left and right.
"Do you mind checking to see if we have any cough medicine?" Ghoul asked. He didn't want to trouble Woof, but he didn't feel well enough to get up and look on his own. And besides, Delia would have a field day with his condition. Woof, however, didn't seem to mind in the least, and darted out of the room.
He beelined for the kitchen area, a mess of cabinets, rescued from trash heaps and 'borrowed' from furniture stores, along with rarely used mismatched appliances. Most everything that was communal was kept there, including the meds. He rifled through the cabinets, tossing aside half empty bags of chips and old magazines. Soon, though, he located the small glass bottle and a teaspoon that was clean enough to use. He rushed them back to Ghoul's room.
"Thanks." Ghoul said, taking the bottle and spoon. Carefully, he gave himself the maximum dosage, thankfully not spilling any on the already dirty blankets. He could already feel the uncomfortable tickle in his throat fading.
Ah, the wonders of modern medicine. He thought. Twenty years ago, this would have taken an hour to kick in.
"Feeling sick, are we?"
Ghoul groaned. Delia. The last thing he needed.
"What's the matter? Don't want me here?" she asked.
"I don't really want you anywhere. But especially not here." he replied, his voice still scratchy due to the soreness of his throat from all of his coughing.
"I was wondering why doggie boy was going through the cabinets." she said, adjusting her cap. "Looks like poor old Ghoulie has a case of the sniffles."
"Go away, Delia." he sighed. His fist closed tightly around the bottle, nearly breaking it. "You're the last thing I need right now."
"Well, if you're going to be that way, fine." she said, with a wave of her hand. "I've got better things to do than bug you, anyway. For now." And with that, she left. Ghoul had no doubt she'd be back. She'd never miss out on an opportunity to make fun of him. It was one of her favorite pastimes.
Deidre looked up from her 21st game of solitaire as her sister entered the room again.
"What's up, Dee Dee?" she asked.
"Nothing much, Dee Dee. Just paying a visit to the resident computer geek. He's holed up with a box of tissues and a bottle of cough syrup." she said.
"Ghoul is sick?" Deidre asked.
"Yeah. Why?" she asked.
"No reason." she answered. "Just wondering why he didn't show his face around here this morning."
Ghoul was more than surprised to hear knocking at his door. Nobody ever knocked before they came into his room. Well, Woof did. But Woof was the exception to the rule.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Deidre."
He hadn't been expecting that reply.
"Can I come in?" she asked.
"..sure."
Deidre backed into the room, her hands full, as she was carrying a beat-up looking serving tray. Balanced precariously on it was a steaming bowl of soup.
"I thought you might want some of this. Chicken soup isn't exactly a cure for the common cold, but it works well enough." she said, handing him the tray.
"What's with the miraculous change of attitude?" he asked.
"I know the feeling." she replied. "When we were kids, Delia always dragged me to all kinds of strange places. Sewers, swamps, any place she could find that look interesting. And I'd always get sick. I know how bad it feels."
"Thanks."
Being sick still sucked, but at the very least he didn't have to worry about help any more.