The trip to the fortress where the Lazarus Pit lay had become Dee's worst nightmare. What should have taken them four days had stretched into six. The first night out in the elements had left Eddie with a sore throat and a rapidly increasing cough. The party had to stop frequently during the day so he could be checked on, given water, and to rearrange the many covers and clothing that padded the wagon and kept him warm.

Every bump and jar of the wagon on the rough road made the trip all the more miserable for Eddie. He groaned in pain, and begged Dee to give him more and more morphine. She refused, however, knowing that anything more than what she was already giving him could send him into a coma. Dee heard the men grumbled at the constant delays during one of the stops. After a few choice words and threats from her, they apologized and kept their comments to themselves.

On the sixth day they found themselves in a large clearing, surrounded on two sides by towering Korean pines. The needles from the trees made a carpet in the clearing over which the wagon moved silently. The fortress itself was nothing quite so bold as it sounded. The opening was a rough wooden door, set far back inside a cave. In brackets along the wall were torches. One of the men took up a torch, lighting it. He headed further into the fortress, lighting torches as he went.

"We're here, Eddie," Dee whispered to him as he lay on the litter two of the other men carried. The fourth man remained with the animals and supplies.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the effort was too much for him. Closing his eyes as Dee's cool fingers stroked his fevered forehead, he slipped back into sleep.

"Mistress al Ghul said we were to use her apartments while here. Please take him there. I'll be along in a moment to settle him in bed."

"Yes, Mistress," the men said, giving a slight nod before heading off.

Back out at the wagon, Dee picked up a bag of Eddie's belongings, along with the heavy medical kit she needed. As she headed back down the hall, she took the fortress in. Though the place had been carved into the bedrock, it was warm and dry, heated by natural thermal vents. Talia had chosen this spot for the comfort, as well as the fact that it would be unguarded, kept safe by its remote location. Her father's minions made routine checks of all the pit sites, reporting anything unusual. Talia knew the schedule, and knew that it the place had recently been inspected. This would buy the two time to use the pit and be gone before Talia's father was aware of the violation.

Everything she's promised so far has been done, Dee thought as she pushed the heavy door to Talia's apartments open. "Thank you for bringing him in. I can handle things from here," she said to the two men who stood waiting for orders. "If you could just bring in the rest of the supplies, it would be a great help."

"Yes, Mistress," the men said in unison. It gave Dee a headache that they responded in such a manner. Still, she knew a little bit about being taught to maintain certain traditions. This happened to be how these men were trained.

"Once that's done, I won't need any help until it's time. Feel free to do what you want."

This time the response was simply a nod of the head, and murmured gratitude at her generosity.

Dee walked through the alcove to the bedroom where Eddie now lay as the door closed behind the men. On a nearby chair, she placed the bags, flipping the medical kit open. From it she took a stethoscope warming the end in her hands as she stood over Eddie. She frowned at the sickly tinge of his skin, noting the fine sheen of sweat on his face. His breathing was shallow and labored, which left her fretting even more. She held her composure though as she listened to his lungs.

"Please, no!" she mumbled, biting back a sob.

His lungs were filling with fluid, a sure sign that his cough had turned into pneumonia in the short time it had taken them to travel to the fortress. Though the trip had been his idea, she blamed herself for his current condition. All she could do now was make him as comfortable as possible.

With effort, she forced herself to go in search of water so she could at least give him a sponge bath. He always felt better when he was clean, and washing away the dust of traveling would be a good start toward making him comfortable.

After she had taken care of him, cleaning and feeding him, she went for a walk through the fortress, keeping to the areas Talia had specified. Dee found herself in the chamber where the Lazarus Pit was. Shelves had been carved into one of the walls. Glass jars and bottles lined the shelves, each filled with roots, minerals, and liquids. She couldn't read the writing on the labels, but was familiar with a few from the instructions Talia had given her.

Strolling over to the pit itself, she sat on the edge, looking into the clear water that trickled into it by way of a stone duct.

"So you're Eddie's hope," she said softly. A sudden chill ran through her, causing goosebumps to break out on her exposed skin. Dee furiously hugged herself, rubbing her arms to rid herself of the cold.

Dee hurried out of the chamber, her soft footfalls the only other noise, save the steady drip of water into the pit.

~ ~ ~

Over the next week, she watched him slowly dying in front of her eyes. Since he was no longer getting any treatment, the cancer was taking over at an alarming rate. Without warning, he would be hit with a seizure. She now had to constantly watch and take care of him. Too often she got little or no sleep at all during the night, and because of the seizures, she could no longer share the bed with him. Instead, she slept on a chair next to the bed. All she could do was watch him as he slipped in and out of consciousness.

Taking care of him wore her down. She took little time to make certain that she had anything to eat, intent only on his needs. The men who had accompanied them to the pits kept their distance, waiting patiently for when they were needed. They watched passively as the woman hurried back and forth, never once asking them to lend a hand.

The three tigers had maintained their distance as well. Keeping her in their sight and checking on her was all they attempted, unless she specifically called to one of them. Often enough, one would come to lay its great head in her lap as she watched her lover sleep. Dee would absently scratch them behind the ears, or between their eyes, as an automatic response. The action, however, did calm and ease her in her worst moments.

"Dee?" Eddie croaked after days of silence.

"I'm here, Tiger!" She was quickly on her knees at the edge of the bed, grasping his clammy hand in hers. His skin was so cold!

He gave a nod, licking his chapped lips. His eyes flicked about, focusing on hers for a moment before flicking away involuntarily.

"Tiger? Stay with me!" she pleaded as his eyes slid closed again. She climbed into the bed, settling herself behind him as she cradled him in her arms. Petting his head, she rocked him, pressing her lips to his temple.

Eddie's eyes flicked open once more, and his lips moved as he tried to speak. All that came out was a sigh of air. He trembled violently for a second. At first she thought it was the beginning of another seizure, but it subsided quickly. He took in as deep a breath as possible using what energy he had to lift his right hand, reaching up for the hand she had placed over his heart. Dee took his hand, gripping it as tightly as she dared. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he gave her hand a feeble squeeze.

"I love you, Eddie," she whispered into his ear.

Another squeeze and deep breath was his response.

Then it came. As he exhaled, his breath rattled in his throat. He took another breath, this time much more shallow than the last. His grip on her hand increased for a moment as the air hissed out of his lungs. Then he was still, his hand falling from Dee's into his lap.

A soft moan came out of her, followed by repeated denial that he had taken his last breath. Holding him all the tighter, she rocked faster, the tears overwhelming her. Across the room, the tigers gave odd grumbling calls of mourning.

Edward Nigma, the Riddler, was dead.
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