I had to drug him further than I wanted to in order to make the trip to Philadelphia a comfortable one. For him, anyway. The headaches had gotten worse, and I was relieved when he finally gave in and let me ask Dr. Zhuang to make arrangements for tests. Used to having to work on the sly being a doctor for the Jade Tiger Triad, as well for Eddie and me, she found us a doctor in another city, as we asked.

Eddie wanted the best, so she got us an appointment with Dr. Thomas Elliot, one of the countries premier neurologists and brain surgeon. If it had to do with Eddie's brain, he insisted on the best. Dr. Zhuang had already scheduled the tests to be done at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, rated number seven in the country for neurology. She would get a copy of the results, as well as Dr. Elliot.

Thanks to the Triad, we had obtained false ID's and papers. Eddie wanted the name Arthur Wynne. I protested at the first name, asking if he could pick another name that didn't make me as angry as the name Arthur did. He calmly, but firmly explained to me that Arthur Wynne was the man who invented the crossword puzzle. I didn't argue after that. As I couldn't go by my own name, I chose to be called Delilah Wynne. I chose that name because I knew how difficult it was at times for Eddie to concentrate on things lately. Having to remember another name would not help. We were to pose as a husband and wife, knowing that it would be the only way I would have full access to him should it turn out to be anything.

We arrived in Philadelphia around noon the day of Eddie's first appointment. With great effort I helped him up the stairs to the apartment the Triad had provided. I owed them more than I could possibly hope to repay by this point. Though I rarely took work with them since joining Eddie's gang, they always offered assistance when I needed it.

Unfortunately, I had been forced to leave my three tigers, Tangram, Rebus, and Rubix, behind for this trip. The apartment we were in was too small to even think of having them there, and they would draw far too much attention to us. It was a shame, because I had taught them to bring Eddie food and water that I would leave in little bundles, a book, or fetch him another blanket when he asked. The tigers also allowed me to keep my distance from him when he was in one of his really foul moods, alerting me if he needed help.

"There you go," I said, easing him into bed. "Sleep until we need to get going. I'll be right back, ok? I'm just going to get the luggage."

Eddie said nothing, merely going right back to sleep the moment I pulled the blanket up around him. That was fine. He needed to sleep off the drugs.

As I put things away, I couldn't help but press a pile of his shirts to my nose. Though they were clean, they retained a hint of his scent. I wanted to cry at how different the scent in the shirts smelled from how he now smelled. With my enhanced feline sense of smell, I could smell whatever sickness was eating at him, and it broke my heart.

"Dee?" he called weakly from the bed.

"I'm here, Eddie. What is it?" I asked, quickly wiping at my eyes before smiling down at him.

"I want some soup and coffee. Make me some," he mumbled. In the next breath, he was asleep again.

"Anything, Tiger."

Leaving the unpacking aside, I went in the kitchen to start some soup. I was pleased to see that the Triad had indeed provided everything. The pantry was full, and the fridge and freezer well stocked. The latter was stocked with prepared items, such as dumplings, steamed buns, and other things that simply needed to be heated up to eat.

While the soup cooked, I took a look around the tiny apartment to see what else was provided. There was a television, VCR, DVD player, and a stereo. Off in a corner, there was also a computer, but I had brought ours knowing that Eddie was particular to many of the files and games he had on his computer.

"Eddie? Eddie, your soup is ready," I said softly, returning to the room with a tray.

From how long it took him to sit up, and the fact that I had to feed him, I knew he was having one of his really bad days. He finished half the soup, and most of the coffee, before he decided I was being a pest and pushed the food and me away. By this point, I was so worried about the appointment, I was feeling nauseated myself.

~ ~ ~

He was the kind of man that girls went for. He was almost as tall as I was, with chiseled features. Where my hair was black, his was red, and he had blue eyes, compared to my green. The only reason I chose to notice this was because Dee was giving him the once over when he entered the room. I softly snorted, knowing that she found the man attractive. Why didn't I say anything or get angry? Because I knew her too well. While she might admire another man, she would never act upon the idea of another man in her life. She was mine, and we both knew it. Instead, she held my arm, caressing it in that way she did that meant she was reassuring me my position was safe.

We watched as Dr. Thomas Elliot flipped through my chart. He nodded here and there as he went. Dr. Elliot made a slight comment about us being from Gotham, to which I replied with a discontented grunt. I wasn't in the mood for small talk. I just wanted to get this damn thing over with and get back to bed, where I could sleep and grouse in my pain in private.

"Well, Mr. Wynne. Care to tell me a bit more about your symptoms?" Dr. Elliot said, pulling one of those little penlights from his pocket. Clicking it on, he shined it directly into my eyes.

To answer his question, and to respond to the light in my eyes, I proceeded to double over and vomit. Dee was quick, and held a kidney tray at the ready, catching the contents of my stomach. She rubbed my back as I continued to make certain I got rid of everything I had eaten. So much for lunch, and so much for the sleep that had helped me feel a little more human. As my heaving resided, I could hear Dr. Elliot scribbling in my file.

"Mrs. Wynne, how long has he been like this?"

"The headaches have been around for a few months. It's just been in the last few weeks that he's gotten worse. A week ago he had a seizure," she replied, wiping my mouth with a clean handkerchief. I sat back up, and she handed me water before wiping the sweat that had gathered on my forehead away. "He has his good days and bad. Today is a bad day."

Thank you for that newsflash, I grumbled to myself, swishing the water around in my mouth. I spat it into a clean kidney tray she offered. A chill came over me, and I began to shiver from the sudden cold. I noticed that my skin looked ashen now, and I could feel an overall clamminess accompany the cold.

"I see." He flipped through the reports Dr. Zhuang forwarded. I recognized her handwriting. "It says here that you had some recent head trauma, Mr. Wynne."

"Yes. A fight. My head was slammed into the wall a couple of times, and I suffered from a concussion," I replied, keeping my voice even. All the information was in the reports.

He nodded. "Tomorrow you will go in for your tests. I want you to go home and get plenty of rest. Eat something if you can, because after midnight, you need to fast. No food, water, gum, or candy. Once you've had your CT scan, you may eat."

"Any ideas what could be causing all this?" asked Dee.

"I won't know for certain until I get the test results. My first guess would be trauma caused by the fight. Fluid might be building up on certain areas of the brain, causing the headaches and seizure."

"Or?" I prompted. There was a note of hesitance that I didn't like.

"Tumors, Mr. Wynne. But that would be a worse case scenario. Usually we find that it's silent bleeding on the skull or along the spine. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to have the nurse confirm your test times and give you the paperwork for them."

Once he left the room, Dee turned and looked at me, sorrowfully, petting my face.

"Enough, woman!" I snapped. I was not in the mood for her pity.

She winced, and stood silently, eyes on the floor, twisting the handkerchief anxiously. The thing that bothered me is that I knew she was doing what she did out of genuine care for me.

I sighed. "Rub my back," I said, my voice normal once more. Really, I did appreciate the attention, and her hands felt good, reassuring.

Dr. Elliot came back in just then with a small sheaf of papers. Each was an order for tests, as well as instructions for each. He went over each one, assuring me that the results would be back within a couple of days, and he would call me immediately to let me know the outcome.

Gathering the bag she insisted on dragging around, Dee and I said our goodbyes, and started to leave the office.

~ ~ ~

The doctor watched the couple left the examination room. From over the top of his dark sunglasses, Mr. Wynne glared at the doctor. Mrs. Wynne looked displeased, giving the doctor a rather unnerving stare. Her eyes dropped back down when Mr. Wynne snapped at her to hurry. If anything, the woman was patient. Were it not for the fact that Mrs. Wynne obviously loved her husband, and the body language between the two, he would have thought the man abused her. The looks she gave her husband told him that the man's behavior was not normal. With illness like this, it was common for moods to change. ~ ~ ~

The next morning, Dee loaded me into the car and took me to the hospital. Though I tried to walk next to her, it was soon obvious that my previous bad day had carried over. An orderly saw our need, and brought me a wheelchair. This is what I sat in, dozing, while Dee filled out the required paperwork.

Once again, she had brought that damn satchel with her. From it she had pulled a New York Times crossword book. I wasn't interested in it at the moment, and it lay in my lap, untouched. As I sat there, she took a blanket from the bag, putting it across my lap. The other articles in the bag were snacks, my injections, and a change of clothing. I referred to it as my diaper bag, but realized that she did need to carry most of what she had not knowing if I would once again have a seizure and mess myself. Still, it made me feel like a complete child.

But that's what you are right now, aren't you? A helpless child, I told myself as I struggled to fight my way through the fog of the painkillers, pain, and exhaustion.

The worst thing about all of this was having her see me weak. While she was the better fighter, I had always prided myself that if she got out of hand, I could always toss her over my shoulder. But not anymore. Now she was the one with the physical strength. I hated how I would sometimes catch her looking at me with those big, sorrowful eyes. Made me feel like a sideshow spectacle.

Eventually they took me in. The technician helped me settle myself on the table for the MRI. Immediately after that, I was handed over to the CT scan technician. A woman came from the blood lab, drawing the sample that she needed from a port in the IV the CT technician had inserted into my right arm. When the flood of contrast solution hit my system, I had a pleasant warm sensation all over, just as the technician had said. Oddly, I found it to be the best experience of the day.

"Here he is, Mrs. Wynne. He's free to eat now. We've taken all the scans we need to for today," the CT technician said, returning me to the waiting room of the Diagnostic Center.

"Thank you very much," she said, smiling at the young man.

"I can walk," I grumbled when she moved to take the handles of the wheelchair.

Though I was a bit unsteady, I did manage to stand. Being her complacent self, Dee allowed me to use her for support as she helped me down to the cafeteria. I had her order me a cheese sandwich and a cup of tomato soup, not wanting anything too heavy. The light was still bothering me today, but not as bad as it had been when Dr. Elliot shined the light in my eyes. I still chose to keep my sunglasses on to block the glare of the fluorescents.

"I'm surprised anyone survives eating this slop," I grumbled. The food was on par with what was served in Arkham.

"How about I make you whatever you want for dinner to make up for this? Just name it."

I knew exactly what I wanted. "Steak, potatoes, green beans."

"Done." She put a hand on my arm, her voice softening. "How do you feel?"

"Like Batman hit me with a brick wall. Again. Give me my shot," I said, a little more forcefully than I meant to.

Knowing the hospital policy against administering drugs, even prescribed ones, unless a nurse on hospital grounds, she was very discreet as she rolled my sleeve up, injecting the medicine. Immediately I felt the warm flood of the painkiller as it rushed through my system. Knowing that I wouldn't be eating for a while, and that I needed to eat while I could keep it down, I forced myself to finish the meal.

The final tests of the day were extensive memory and reflex tests. I was angered when I couldn't remember or name some of the items on the flashcards. One too many times, I literally dropped the ball during the reflex testing. By the end of it all, I was so tired that a wheelchair had to be brought around for me to leave the hospital.

~ ~ ~

Once more, getting Eddie up the stairs proved to be a struggle. I cursed the building for not having an elevator, as I struggled to keep a hold of him on the stairs. Once inside the apartment, I put my arms around him and took him straight to bed. By the time I had gotten him into the bathroom, then out once more, undressed, and changed into pajamas, I was sweating.

All that sweating and work, and no physical pleasure, I grumbled to myself.

Even if Eddie looked like hell, I still wanted him. I still found him attractive, and longed for sex with him. It pained me to see him so out of everything. I had watched the last of the tests, and could see his frustration when he couldn't name the picture on the flashcard.

To help myself relax, I started dinner. Leaving the steak to marinate, I decided to take a shower. Certainly the hot water would help to settle my nerves. I ended up standing in the hot spray, crying, until the water gradually cooled.
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