Disc: don't own characters of Gotham
"No…no….please, no…Eddie…."
Jonathan Crane cradled the Riddler in his arms, heedless of the blood that was slowly seeping into his clothing. It couldn't end. Not like this. Not with the Riddler just falling to the ground, blood everywhere…
No. This wasn't happening. It was a dream. A horrible nightmare that he just had to wake up from and then it would all be ok, and Eddie would be fine, and nothing would be wrong.
But no matter how many times the Master of Fear tried to make himself believe it, he knew it wasn't true.
So he just held his friend close and begged him to live, even though the Prince of Puzzle's heart-beat was fading with each passing second.
The bullet had gone in through the rib-cage, breaking several ribs and just missing the Riddler's heart.
The Scarecrow had tried to staunch the blood-flow as best as he could, but there was so much blood…
"Please, Eddie…I-I need you to live…please…"
?
Edward Nygma felt like he was floating. It was dark, and there was no pain. No gunshots or screams. Just peace. He liked it here. Here, the Riddler felt like he could float forever, just swim in the never-ending blackness.
And then he heard it.
A sound, like a muffled sigh, slowly breaking through to his ears.
"…Eddie…"
Was that his name? Inwardly, the Riddler paused and tried to focus. But it was so hard…and the blackness was so peaceful. It would be so easy to just forget everything and simply sink into oblivion.
But then he heard it again.
"…Eddie, please. Don't do this to me….please…"
That voice. It sounded so familiar…and desperate. And as much as Eddie wanted to just slip away and not have to deal with the pain, somehow he new that this was more important. That he needed to resurface and tell whoever was begging him to live that he was ok…that he was just sleeping…he'd wake up soon….
Wouldn't he?
It was this thought, combined with the sheer desperation of the voice of the person trying to awaken him that brought Eddie back a little more from the brink. And with the slow resurfacing came pain. Terrible, agonizing, fiery pain that seemed to be trying to rend his very insides in two.
And the voice.
It was speaking more urgently now, seemingly on the verge of a total melt-down.
"Eddie, please…please, wake up. Eddie…please….please…"
A warm drop of liquid suddenly dripped onto the Riddler's face and dribbled down his cheek to his mouth. It tasted like salt-water. The voice had gone from desperate to broken as it continued its pleas.
"Please, Eddie…"
And slowly, painfully, the Riddler forced his eyes open a crack.
A tall thin man was looking into his face, his features flushed with despair. The man's eyes were red-rimmed and two thin trails ran through the layer of grime on his face.
Trying to find his voice, Eddie opened his eyes a little wider and croaked, "Jonathan…"
Then, suddenly, the Riddler found himself engulfed by a pair of spindly arms, his face pressed into the slightly damp fabric of Jonathan's shirt, as several drops of warm liquid once more dripped on the back of his neck.
There was complete silence for some moments, and then the Master of Fear spoke.
"Y-you're still with me." he murmured shakily.
And summoning the last of his strength, the Riddler replied, "Of course."
?
The Riddler opened his eyes, slowly adjusting to the light flooding into his room. Turning his head slightly, he saw Jonathan sitting in a chair by the bed and smiled. The Master of Fear smiled back, getting up and moving over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Sleep well?" he asked, pulling back the quilt to examine the still-healing wound on the Prince of Puzzles chest. Eddie nodded.
"It's healing fast." Jonathan concluded, pulling the quilt over the Riddler once more. "You were very lucky."
Eddie smiled. "You say that every day."
"And I mean it every day."
The Master of Fear sighed, looking off into the distance for a moment. Eddie knew what he was thinking.
"He was hurt. He couldn't have gotten far, and I highly doubt his thugs helped him."
Jonathan didn't look at the Riddler. "But what if he's still alive?"
"Then he knows not to mess with us!"
The Master of Fear let a small smile creep onto his features.
"And at any rate," Eddie said, putting a hand on the Scarecrow's arm, "I'm still with you."
Jonathan turned, smiling fully at the Riddler.
"Of course."
a/n: well, this is it, folks! The last chapter! I want to thank you all for the reviews and encouragement throughout this whole fic. You all deserve cookies!
Thanks again!
~Scar