"Please make yourself comfortable. Dr. Elliot will be with you in a moment," the nurse said pleasantly as she seated them in the doctor's office.

The two sat in silence, Edward staring forward at the empty desk, Dee glancing around at the numerous degrees on the wall. With the degrees were several framed articles praising Dr Elliot on his achievements in the medical community.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wynne, thank you for coming down to see me," Dr. Elliot said by way of greeting. He shook hands with both before settling himself behind the desk. He took a deep breath as he picked up Eddie's chart, flipping it open to the hospital reports.

"Look, Doc. Let's cut to the chase, hm? I don't want this dramatic bullshit that you're doing here. Just tell us what the tests found," snapped Edward. Though today was one of his better days, the outburst still sent splinters of pain through his head.

"Very well. You're a no-nonsense kind of man, I can tell. Mr. Wynne, what we were looking for was any sign of bleeding on your brain, or perhaps the base of the skull, on the spine. You mentioned that you have had some recent head trauma. These symptoms can sometimes be caused by such trauma. What we found, Mr. Wynne, was a dense mass located against your cerebellum." Dr. Elliot paused. This was always the hardest part of his job. "Mr. Wynne, you have brain cancer."

A strangled sob burst from Dee before she could stop herself. No! NO! This has to be a dream. No, not a dream! A nightmare! This isn't real! This isn't happening! Eddie doesn't have cancer! You're lying to us! She wanted to scream, but her voice was lost.

Edward sat there for a moment, stunned. His brain was the most important part of his body. If it were his choice, he would choose to have any other type of cancer. Any type! But not his brain!

Finally he nodded. "So what do we do?" he asked calmly.

Dr. Elliot nodded his approval. The man was going to be level headed about it all. Elliot could only hope that the woman would be as well, once the initial shock wore off. If there was one thing the doctor noticed about his patients, it was that they generally seemed to take a diagnosis such as this better than their family or significant other. But as he watched, she reached out and took her husband's hand. He now noticed that his patient was trembling. So the man did have fear.

"Well, there are options. One option is that we do nothing."

"No. We will do something," interrupted Mr. Wynne, fixing the doctor with a challenging stare.

"Of course. I'm only giving you the list of options. It's up to you to decide which path to take. The second option is surgery, followed by radiation, and possibly chemotherapy. First we would remove the tumor, or as much as possible. This will relieve some of the pressure in your skull. With luck, it will also eliminate, or lessen the symptoms you're having right now. Once it's removed, we'll send it off for testing."

"Testing?" Mrs. Wynne asked.

"Yes. To see what type and stage the cancer is at. That will help us to determine the next step of radiation. I will need to send you back to the hospital for more tests, Mr. Wynne. We'll need baseline information to keep on file for the duration of your treatment."

Edward nodded. "When can we schedule the operation?"

"As soon as next week, if that's alright with you?" Dr. Elliot said, looking between the two.

"The sooner the better. What are the risks of surgery?" he asked.

"For the most part, similar to any surgery. Infection, swelling, and bleeding. With brain surgery, there's always the risk of brain damage."

Dee wanted to hiss as Eddie's grip on her hand tightened. She understood his fear, so even when she felt her knuckles pop she sat still. He wouldn't be whole without his brain functioning correctly. But what kind of brain damage? Would the damage cause him to stop being the Riddler? No. The cancer had already seen to that. There would be a flurry of research the moment they returned home.

"Please understand, Mr. Wynne, that we do everything possible to minimize any damage at all. If part of the tumor is too close, we will leave it, rather than risk the damage. What we can't cut out will be treated with radiation."

Over the course of the next hour, Dr. Elliot discussed the surgery and answered questions. In detail he described the craniotomy he would be performing, from the holes drilled to the wires that would hold the bone flap in place. Surgery would be done with general anesthetic. Recovery would take around eight weeks.

A folder was handed over, containing an array of pamphlets dealing with cancer and cancer patients. They covered everything from post-surgery to dietary needs to preparing the house for the patient's comfort.

The nurse that had led them into the office now, Nurse Grey Machado, walked them down to the reception area. She was tall and slim, with silvering hair kept in a tight bun on top of her head. Like the other nurses, she wore a spotless, white uniform. At the front desk, she retrieved a folder, withdrawing a few sheets.

"These are the orders for all of the other tests that need to be done. Bone scan, MUGA or heart scan, and a full body CT scan. Instructions are on each sheet, but the main thing to remember is not to eat or drink after midnight the night before the tests."

~ ~ ~

I tried to keep my distance as best I could when we got back to the apartment. He was in a horrendous mood, and I had no desire to have him continue to snap at me. Every now and then he would call me back into the living room, where he had set himself up. From the moment we had arrived home, I had been running searches on the Internet and printing information out for him. At first he had tried to do it himself, but the glare of the screen bothered him too much. Soon enough, the living room was littered with printouts.

Nothing I could offer him that night seemed to help his mood. By the time I followed him to bed, I was frazzled from having to gauge exactly how angry he was. Truthfully, I was not looking forward to bed, and almost slept on the couch. But I knew that his anger was due to the diagnosis coupled with the pain he was in.

Quietly, so as not to disturb him and cause him to yell at me again, I crawled into bed. To my surprise, the moment I was settled, he came to me, curling against me, head on my chest. He held me so tightly I could barely breathe. It was then I knew that he wasn't really angry, but frustrated and upset that his body would betray him so.

"Eddie? Eddie, Tiger, talk to me. Say something," I urged, stroking his hair.

At that moment, I had an inappropriate thought. Would they need to shave his head for the operation? I was certain they would need to shave at least a small area. But I didn't think I could bear to see him lose the thick hair that I had come to love the feel of.

Then he shocked me for the second time in as many minutes. Without warning, he began to kiss my chest through my camisole. I stiffened, uncertain of what to do, and unwilling to return the sudden affection for fear of hurting him.

"Please." It didn't come out of his mouth in a pleading way. It came out in a voice I had come to think of as his "little lost boy" voice.

"I - I'm not certain if we can," I stammered.

At that moment, I would have done anything to avoid the angry and betrayed look in his eyes as he said, "Why? Because I have cancer?"

Biting my lower lip, I shook my head at him. "No. Of course not. I worry about your strength, about hurting you. You're not..."

"I'm not what?" he demanded, daring me to continue to speak.

What exactly could I possibly say that wouldn't sound like the wrong thing to him?

I took his face in my hands, stroking his lips with my thumbs. "Tiger, I want you, believe me I do! You don't have the strength that you did a few months ago. You know that's true! And as much as I want you, I would never forgive myself if this harmed you!"

With a snarl, he pushed himself onto me, kissing me roughly and running his hands along my body. "You want me to prove myself to you, you damn woman?" he panted, staring defiantly down at me.

There was a strange combination of fear and lust as I looked at him above me. Whether my unexpected trembling was from my fear or my desire to have him, I wasn't certain. But he suddenly realized his actions, and dropped his head to my shoulder, leaving his hand where it had stopped at the curve of my breast. In the moment before he had lowered his head, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew he was weaker now, and needed to admit the truth.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "But just because we now know what has been causing all of this does not mean that I am any different than I was before. This is just a new facet. I will not allow you or anyone else define who I am by this cancer! I am Edward Nigma, the Riddler!"

I placed a kiss on his forehead, putting my arms around him. "You are Edward Nigma, the man I love more than anything in this world. I meant no harm or slight. I just need you to tell me, truthfully, how you feel. No sugar coating."

Eddie chuckled bitterly and rested his chin on my shoulder, looking up at me. "I feel like shit. I feel like Batman is using my head as a punching bag. When the light is too bright, I feel as though someone is twisting my intestines around with a hot fork. I feel like everything I ever knew in my life has just been blown out the window, only to be replaced by this whole surreal experience." He paused, lifted a hand, and brushed a stray lock of hair away from my eyes. "And then there's you. You drive me nuts checking on me all the time, taking my temperature, feeding me when I can barely hold my hands steady, and always, always, being patient with me, even when I'm yelling at you."

"Because I know that you're sick. You're always grumpy when you're sick, because it frustrates you to be so dependant. On top of that, you're stubborn. You'll never tell me you need anything unless I see that you need it and offer it."

There was a genuine smile on his face as I spoke. "I know. But please promise me that no matter what, you will not treat me like a cancer patient. You will continue to play at riddles and games with me through all of this." He shook a finger at me. "Most importantly, you will not tell anyone about this without asking me first. I will take it as a great betrayal if you do."

"I can promise that. But we have to tell Manchu and Jiaoshu. They've been helping us."

He slowly nodded. "Of course they'll be told. They're your family, and they've earned the right to know. Not just because they're helping us. I don't want any of my crowd knowing though. It must be kept secret."

"Yes, Eddie. I won't say a word to anyone about it unless you've told me it's ok." I ran my fingers through the beads of sweat that had appeared on his forehead. In comparison to his forehead, my fingers were cool. "You need rest."

"I need what I need," he said, adjusting himself on me once more. "I want what I want. And I want and need according to my own schedule."
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