"Nygma. Nygma."
It was with genuine difficulty that he lifted his forehead from the cool window.
"What?"
"It's your turn to talk."
"Oh." He had lost track of the nonsensical directions he'd been giving. "Turn left at the next light," he suggested, hoping that would sound about right.
The Batmobile coasted to a stop. Oh, shit.
Then, to his surprise, the clamps released his wrists with a snap.
"Uh—what are you doing?"
Batman produced a handful of wadded-up tissues from nowhere and thrust them into his hand.
"Tilt your head back. You're bleeding all over the seat."
"So? Get your butler to clean it up." In response to the three-quarter-strength Bat-glare, he fell silent and pressed the tissues to his face.
"Good. Now, instead of telling me where you want me to turn, why don't you tell me where we're going, just in case you pass out from the blood loss before we get there."
Eddie slumped in the seat. This just wasn't fair. He should have had time to think this through. And he shouldn't be bleeding. Hadn't he lost enough blood in his lifetime already?
He considered pressing a random button on the off chance that it would turn out to be the emergency ejector seat.
Great idea, Edward. Turn on the rocket boosters. He doesn't want to hurt you enough as it is.
Of course, with his luck, it would probably turn out to be the windshield wipers. Or the radio.
"Nygma."
Oh. He really was drifting. When this was all over, he was going to have to seriously consider taking a few days off. Preferably in the Bahamas.
"They're on the other side of the river."
"You already said that."
"Oh, did I? That's interesting. I wonder what it could possibly mean." The Batmobile came to a less gentle stop than before. "Gee, Batman, I don't think you're supposed to stop in the middle of a bridge."
"Get out."
"But—"
"Out."
He didn't move. Batman flung open his own door and came around to the passenger side. Eddie looked without much hope for a way to lock himself in.
He forced a broad grin as Batman yanked his door open.
"Okay, you win. Good job. You know I can't make it too easy for you. You know that, right?" Batman grabbed him by the collar and left arm, dragged him out of the car, and slammed him against the guardrail.
"If you won't do this the easy way, Nygma, then neither will I."
"Hey, now, that's hardly fair."
"'The other side of the river'?"
Eddie shrugged helplessly.
"Is it my fault you haven't read your Robin Hood lately? There is no side but the other."
Batman let out a breath that fell just short of being an exasperated sigh.
"You're not going to tell me where they are, are you?" Batman graveled.
He could have gone with a riddle. He didn't.
"Not if I can help it."
It wasn't easy to read Batman's facial expressions with that cowl covering most of his face. He never seemed to change the way he held his mouth. It wasn't a mouth built for smiles, after all. It was all grimness and firm hard lines. Stubborn. Dark. The only time it ever changed was a certain tensing of the muscles in times of anger or stress.
The face tightened now. That was Eddie's warning to go limp.
"Why?"
He didn't fight back as his feet lost contact with the ground, conscious of the vast, dizzying emptiness behind and below him. He felt…broken, like a toy being shaken by a child frustrated that the doll wouldn't say "Mama." And he was too tired now to deal with panic at the thought of cracked porcelain. So he just hung there, a rag doll indifferent to rough treatment.
"Why?" Batman repeated. Another shake snapped his head back. He was surprised to see the stars through a break in the clouds.
Slowly, he lowered his gaze back to the Gotham Bridge and Batman.
"Why do you want them? What have they done?" The Dark Knight glowered, and Eddie felt a renewed spark of anger. "They robbed Bruce Wayne. So what? It's not like no one's ever robbed him before." He smirked. "And they didn't learn any deep, dark secrets, if that's what you're worried about."
"I. Am. Not. Worried."
"Says the man who dragged me out of the shower for this little wild goose chase?" Unexpectedly, he started to laugh, which coincided with a bout of shivering so violent it was undoubtedly not appropriate for younger viewers. It was PG-13 at least.
That set him off giggling more, as a part of him struggled to remember just what effects hypothermia had on the brain.
"Answer the question, Nygma. You can't keep this up forever."
"Question, Batman: How do you expect to play good cop/bad cop when there's only one of you?"
"Nygma." Two syllables, all threat. He felt his bravado start to crumble. "Why bother to protect them?"
"Because they'd do the same for me! Can't you understand that? They're my friends, and if you were pulling this on them to get information about me, they would let you drop them before they said a word. They. Are. My. Friends. Now, if you just wanted Jonathan, I'd be happy to oblige, and no one would find fault with a man breaking under the Bat's interrogation, you understand? But you want the girls, and I'm not going to oblige, so just do what you're going to do and get it over with!"
Batman stared at him, eyes narrowed. Then the corner of his mouth twitched in what could have been a smirk.
"Jonathan?" Eddie just sighed. A slip of the tongue; he wasn't going to dwell on it, although Batman certainly would.
"We all have names, you know."
"Fine." He turned away from the vast empty space and dumped Eddie in a snowdrift. "You had your chance. Things would have been easier for everyone if you had just spoken up."
Eddie drew his knees up to his chest, trying to keep his feet from touching the snow.
"What are you going to do to them?" Batman said nothing. "They're decent people, you know. They protect the Scarecrow because they care about him. It's not for the money. They're…not normal, but they're not so broken, yet. They still know how to love." Oh, that sounded so trite. Was he really preaching a cartoonish moral of the story? Still, it was true. They loved, and it made a difference.
"Touching," Batman growled. Eddie sighed. There wasn't anything more to say, was there? For a so-called hero, Batman wasn't exactly full of compassion. He was going to find Jonathan and the girls, and whatever came next, he would show no mercy.
"Electric fan," Eddie muttered. That gave Batman a moment's hesitation until he made the connection to I wave but never say goodbye.
…It's cooler, though, when I say HI! Oh, that had been a grand scheme, teaming with the Mad Hatter to mind control the spectators at Gotham Stadium at halftime on Superbowl Sunday. That had been a good day, back when every crime had been fun and partnerships had still seemed like a good idea, though what they had planned to do with their army of sweaty, color-coded drones, he could no longer remember.
Eddie's gaze drifted over to that familiar monstrosity of a nightclub down the street. Jervis might be there, nursing a Derby, shredding the lemon peel garnish, and staring at the little blonde hostess he could never work up the nerve to talk to. He might be good for a ride home. If not, he should have a 50/50 chance with Harv, or he could try reminding Ivy how much he loved green. Then again, that might not be such a good idea. Last time he had asked her for a favor, he had woken up a week later in St. Vincent de Paul Hospital in Metropolis, wondering why the doctors were so concerned about Kryptonite, and whose colon they were planning to remove it from.
If he wanted to go so deep into debt he could never dig himself out, he could even ask Oswald for help.
And he'd only be the laughingstock of the underworld for the next decade or so.
"Batman!" The word slipped out before he could stop it. "You're just going to leave me here? Where's your heroic pride?"
"I think you must have me confused with Superman."
Scowling, Eddie wrapped his arms around his bare feet, wondering if it wouldn't be better just to let them go numb. There was a creak from the Batmobile, a swish of the cape, the crunch-crunch of boots on snow—all of which he steadfastly ignored until something dark and heavy landed in the snow in front of him. He picked it up and shook it out.
"You've got to be kidding."
Of course Batman would be prepared for cold weather by keeping a Bat-parka in his car. And of course it had that ridiculous bright yellow emblem plastered on the back, impossible to miss.
"Take it. You have a long walk ahead of you."
There would have to be a special level of hell reserved for smart-ass vigilantes. But since survival instinct was generally stronger than pride, Eddie shrugged his way into the jacket without stopping to spit out any of the multitude of reasons why he shouldn't.
"I'm n-not going to forget this, you know." He managed to keep himself from shivering by tensing every muscle in his body, but try as he might, his teeth would not stop chattering. Eddie refused to see any amusement behind Batman's mask.
"Have a good night, Riddler."
"Up yours, rodent." He slumped over, weighing his options as the Batmobile rumbled away. No way was he going to make it home in this weather.
And there was also no way he was going into the Iceberg looking like a discard from Batman's toybox. He could try it, but even if he snuck in the back way, there was no guarantee that he would make it out alive. Not with hardly a mark on him, and not displaying the bat emblem so brazenly. They would all assume the worst.
That left option number three: Javalanche. The all-night coffee shop across the street from the nightclub didn't qualify as rogue territory, but it was a recognizable landmark, and it was sure to have a phone. Quiz and Query could come and get him, if they weren't still tied up in bed. And if not…he could try the girls. The whole point of this night of defiance had been to keep Batman away from them, and he had to assume the Dark Knight was still watching to see where he would go, but…that was something he could deal with later.
The bell on the coffee shop door merrily announced his presence to the lone employee, a bored-looking teenager who didn't even bother to glance up from his calculus book. Eddie stood there, dripping on the dirty linoleum. The boy still didn't look up. Eddie cleared his throat loudly.
"You ready to order?"
"No, I want to use your phone." The kid's pencil stopped moving, and he finally looked up.
"Sorry, customers only."
Snotty little bastard. Fine.
"Why don't you make me some coffee, then?" he asked, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. He reached into his pocket…
Uh-oh. No cash. He checked his other pockets. Nothing. He started shivering again. A nice hot cup of coffee would have been just about perfect.
Reluctantly, he checked the jacket. There was a dollar.
A dollar. Batman was just taunting him, wasn't he?
The kid went back to doing his homework. Eddie waved the dollar at him.
"Hello? Shot of espresso? Raspberry flavoring? Cup of hot water? Work with me." Without looking up, the boy pointed to a sign above the door.
"No shirt, no shoes, no service. Sir."
"Are you joking?"
"Store policy."
"Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Nope." He turned the page. Eddie lunged across the counter and dragged the kid toward him by his shirt collar.
"Listen, you little punk, this is not a good time to—good grief, I'm acting like Batman."
Well, maybe not quite like Batman. Batman would have known what to do about a teenager's forehead slamming into the top of his skull. Batman wouldn't have ended up lying on the floor with his ears ringing, the imprint of a math book on the side of his face.
"Get out of here, you psycho!"
"Does everyone get this treatment, or am I the lucky one millionth customer?" The kid raised his book again threateningly. Eddie made a mental note to come back later with a pair of henchgirls and a gun.