DISC: Don't own Eddie, Jonathan, or Gotham.
THUD.
Edward Nygma shifted but didn't wake up.
THUD.
He rolled over.
THUD. CRASH. "OW!"
The Riddler woke up with a start as a yell echoed down the hallway. "Jonathan?" he called, pulling himself out of bed and staggering into his fuzzy green slippers and question mark bathrobe. A low groan was his only reply.
Fearing the worst, Eddie raced down the hall and threw open the Master of Fear's door.
Jonathan Crane was on the floor by the bed, looking a little dazed and more than a little angry. The Riddler hit the floor beside him, quickly checking for open wounds. Finding none, he stood once more and hands on hips, demanded, "And just what are you doing out of bed?" The Scarecrow glared back up at him. "I'm sick of laying around!" he whined. "My legs are fine. I don't see why I can't use them!"
Eddie leaned against the bed, rubbed a hand across his eyes, and glanced at the clock. "Jonathan, it's 2:30 in the morning. Can we do this some other time?"
The Scarecrow folded his arms stubbornly and scowled, but inwardly, he knew he'd won. "Fine." he grumbled. "I'm kind of dizzy, anyhow. I'll be fine in the morning."
"Later in the morning, you mean." sighed Eddie as he helped the Master of Fear back into bed.
?
Eddie was having a wonderful dream. He was floating, no flying, high above Gotham city, and everything was peaceful and quiet. No one to talk to him, no one to bother him, just him. Alone. With his thoughts. It was perfect. And best of all, he felt like he didn't have a care in the world. Like he was the smartest and best person. He was the smartest and best person. He was awesome! The very wind seemed to declare his supremeness. It whistled around him and it seemed to whisper softly… Nygma…Nygma….Nygma… The Riddler frowned in his sleep. He would have thought that the wind would be a bit more polite. It was getting pretty loud too…Nygma….Nygma…Nygma…
"NYGMA!"
Eddie awoke with a jerk for the second time that morning, the bellow from down the hall ringing in his ears. "I'm coming, I'm coming…" he called down the hall as he stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping on the sheets that his left foot took with it.
?
"Where were you?" demanded the Master of Fear as soon as the Riddler stepped into the room. "I've been calling and calling…"
Eddie rubbed sleep from his eyes. "I know…"
"Well, you should have come then!" Jonathan snapped. "I want to get up." Eddie sighed. "Alright, here we go."
?
A half an hour later, Jonathan had succeeded in getting into a standing position, and wobbling around with Eddie's help, and flailing around, knocking over a lamp, and falling over, without it. And yet, let no one ever say that Jonathan Crane is a quitter. Eddie thought to himself with something approaching admiration as he watched the Scarecrow try to lever himself up once again. This time, he was actually able to stand on his own without collapsing. Eddie reached over to steady him, grinning broadly. "Good job!" he congratulated. To his surprise, Jonathan smiled back at him. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Then, still wobbly, but more in control, the Master of Fear tottered past him and made for the hallway. And Eddie could have sworn he heard the Scarecrow mumble, "Onward" under his breath.
?
A few minutes and several stumbles later, the Master of Fear collapsed on a chair at the small kitchen table, looking extremely pleased with himself. The Riddler watched as the Scarecrow seem to mentally gather his wits about him. Then Jonathan looked up at Eddie with a startlingly broad grin across his face.
"Eddie," he commanded, "bring me toast!"