Edward didn't know how long he stood in the new age shop, turning over Ms. Morris' words in his head over and over again. Eddie Nashton! The jerk's name was Eddie Nashton! I think she was really starting to fall for the guy. If I had to pick anyone as Ellie's dad, it'd be him. I'm your daughter. I'm not crazy. I'm your daughter-

"Mr. Nigma? Hello?" Ms. Morris tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you there?"

The contact brought Edward out of his daze and he took a step back. "Fine," he said, his voice sounding shaky. "Just fine." Ms. Morris looked askance at him, but didn't pry any further. Edward placed his notebook back into his breast pocket and took a quick gulp. "Did you ever tell Ellen about this?" About me?

Ms. Morris shook her head. "No. I wanted to when Ellie asked, but Di wouldn't let me. Like I said, I think she was scared to death about him finding out about her. I think she was a bit ashamed too."

Of course. What law abiding citizen would want to admit that they had a child with the Riddler? "What about after Ms. Dixon died? Why didn't you say anything then?"

She shrugged and Edward felt the urge to strangle her. "Ellie's a kid. She doesn't need to know all the stuff her mom and I used to get into. And I thought I'd be disrespecting Di's memory."

"I see," Edward seethed. "So you thought that respecting a dead woman's feelings was more important than telling a living child about her father?"

Ms. Morris face twisted into a scowl. "Where the Hell do you get off?" she asked him. "Just what should I tell Ellie? That her father was some kind of hood and that he scared the crap out of her mother? You think Ellie needs someone like that in her life? And for all I know, he's in prison or he's dead. What good would telling her that do?"

"It would be better than her living in the dark for her entire life," Edward argued. "She came to me because she wanted answers. That should tell you all you need to know." Edward turned and walked towards the front door, before he said something he'd regret. "Good bye Ms. Morris."

"Why are you taking this so personally? Do you know who this Nashton guy is?" he heard her call after him. Edward didn't answer, instead slamming the door shut behind him.

Edward barely made it back into his car before his legs gave way beneath him. He collapsed into his front seat and tore off his hat, throwing it into the back seat. He ran his fingers down his face and fought off the urge to scream, laugh and cry all at once. He'd known Diane Dixon. He'd been with Diane Dixon. He was now the most likely candidate for Ellen Dixon's father. He had a daughter. He had a little girl. How couldn't he have known about this? Where had he been? His thoughts turned to Diane Dixon again and he felt a fresh wave of anger at her and at himself. How dare she. How dare she keep this from him all these years. If she'd been a one night stand or a fling, he could have understood why he wouldn't have remembered her. But they'd been together for months. She was starting to fall in love with him. If he'd been entertaining bringing her into his gang, he must have felt something for her beyond vague amusement. She must have meant something to him! And yet, when he tried to recall her face, or the sound of her voice, all he came up with was a blank. If he couldn't remember her, what else was he missing? Ms. Morris' words came back to the forefront of his mind. She may have been falling in love with him, but she'd been terrified of him by the end. What had he said or done to her that made her think hiding her-his-their child from him was the only option?

Edward rested his head against the steering wheel. He needed to talk to someone. And he needed a strong drink.

The Iceberg Lounge didn't actually open until 4:00 pm on Saturdays, but being friends with Oswald Cobblepot had its perks. Said perks included having a seat at the owner's table and an unlimited bar tap, which Edward was fully taking advantage of. Edward finished his third shot in as many minutes and slammed the glass down on the table. The movement caused the other, numerous empty shot glasses to rattle. He looked at the bottle of whiskey he'd been drinking from and frowned when he realized that it was empty. "Barkeep, another!"

One of Oswald's waiters approached with a nervous look on his face. "Uh, Mr. Nigma, you've had an awful lot already-"

Edward looked up to glare at the unfortunate man. "You aren't paid to tell me when I've had enough," he hissed. "Another!"

The other occupant at the table raised his hand. "No George, Mr. Nigma has had enough."

The waiter nodded. "Yes Sir, Mr. Cobblepot," he stammered. He scurried back towards the front of the restaurant, almost tripping in his haste.

Oswald looked at Edward disapprovingly. "I know it's not the way you wanted the case to go Edward," he scolded. "But that's no reason to harangue my wait staff."

Edward didn't respond, instead fiddling with one of the empty shot glasses. Oswald continued on. "Are you absolutely certain that there was no other man around the time the girl would have been conceived? You said yourself that her mother was a bit...free with her affections."

Edward shook his head. "Not according to Ms. Morris. She wouldn't have any reason to lie to me, given what she admitted about the two of them." Edward took his face into his hands. "Oh God Ozzie...I'm a father."

"You don't know that for certain," Oswald argued. "You still need to do the DNA test. Then you'll know."

Edward banged his head against the table. "What am I going to do?"

Oswald awkwardly raised his hand to pat his shoulder. "There, there. It could be worse. At least the girl's a teenager. Just get the Paternity test done, send her money until she turns 18 and then wash your hands of the whole thing."

Edward looked up at Oswald. "Just like that?"

"Well, yes. That's all you're obligated to do." Oswald raised an eyebrow at Edward. "Edward, not two nights ago you were telling me that you had absolutely no interest in being a parent. Has that changed?"

"Y-No-I don't know anymore." Edward sighed as he tried to organize his thoughts into something coherent. He'd told Oswald and Dr. Leland that giving monetary support was the only way he'd have anything to do with the girl-Ellen. He needed to start calling her Ellen. That had been an easy enough thing to say when he thought she was nothing more than a charlatan. Now that he was faced with the overwhelming possibility that she was precisely who she said she was, it didn't seem so easy. "I can barely take care of myself, Ozzie. I know that much. I'm not saying I want to take her in or anything like that, but she's mine. I can't just write a check every month and pretend that she doesn't exist otherwise."

"Why not?" Oswald asked him. "She's a teenager, not a small child. It's not as if she really needs much raising anymore. At any rate, you said yourself that the girl was presumptuous and obnoxious."

Edward chuckled as bit. "Yes. A regular chip off the old block." Edward rose to his feet, gripping the edges of the table to steady himself. Speaking to Oswald and drinking his liquor hadn't helped him decide one way or another if he was going to be a father to Ellen, but it had helped him screw up his courage to face her. "Thanks for seeing me Oswald."

Oswald nodded. "Anytime Edward. Just don't do anything rash."

It took only a cursory search to find Ellen's address. She and her grandmother shared an apartment in Gotham's West End. It was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, Edward thought as he parked his car and entered the building. He cast a critical look at the cracked wall paper and the humidity of the apartment building as he walked up the stairs. He'd known his fair share of dives, but he'd shared better places with Query and Echo, Jonathan and even with Arthur Brown of all people. Finally, he reached her apartment. 23B. Edward took a deep breath and knocked. There was no response. Edward frowned. Were they out? He knocked again. While he waited, a terrible thought came to mind. What if Ellen wasn't home, but her grandmother was? Did she know what her granddaughter had been up to? And if she didn't, what exactly was he going to say to her? 'Good afternoon Madam. My name is Edward Nigma, formerly known as the super villain the Riddler and I'm almost certain I'm your granddaughter's father! May I come in?' Before his train of thought went careening off the tracks, the door opened.

Ellen stood there, dressed in what Edward assumed were her mother's old clothes. They looked too worn and out of date to be anything else. Now that he was face to face with her again, Edward took a moment to look at her. To really see her. Her frame didn't match his at all, she had a different shape to her nose, and her hair was a brighter shade of red than his had ever been, but those green eyes of hers could have only come from one person. He could admit that now. Her face paled and her jaw dropped when she saw him. "You-how'd you find me?"

Despite the situation, Edward found it in him to roll his eyes. How could he have fathered someone so naive? "Child, I used to be able to hack into databases that have been classified since before we were born. Did you really think I couldn't find your address?"

Ellen recovered quickly from her shock and shot him a glare. "Whatever old man. So what do you want?"

Here it was. Edward wet his lip. "I've found some information about your father that you need to know about. May I come in?"

Ellen fully opened the door to the apartment and gestured for him to follow her. Edward crossed the threshold and entered her apartment for the first time. Edward furrowed his brow as he examined the place. It was well kept at least, even if some of the decor was a little chintzy for his liking. It seemed smaller than his own and it fit twice as many people. What caught his attention however were the sketches hung up all over the apartment. Most of them were of scenic locations in Gotham, but there was one in particular that caught his eye. It was of a woman, with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes, and a large smile. Edward walked up to it and studied it for a moment. Judging from the just noticeable resemblance she bore to Ellen, she had to be Diane. This was the woman he'd spent months of his early life in Gotham with. This was the woman he'd broken the heart of. He felt no more connection to her than if she was an anonymous model in an art museum. "Did you draw this?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ellen answered. "I drew about half of this stuff. Mom drew the other half. She used to be an artist."

"So I've heard," Edward said. He drew a deep breath and turned from the portrait to face Ellen. She was looking at him expectantly, trying but failing to come across as aloof. She seemed to be just as nervous about hearing what Edward had to tell her as Edward was of saying it.

"Is your grandmother here?" he asked her.

Ellen shook her head. "No, she's working a double shift at Gotham General. She won't be back until late tonight. Why?"

Edward remembered what Dr. Leland had said about Ellen's possible lack of adult guidance and frowned a bit. "Does that happen often? You being alone like this?" It would explain how she'd been able to get out to play superhero the other night.

Ellen shrugged. "So what? I'm not a little kid, I can handle it." She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "What do you care? I thought you said you weren't my dad."

Edward sighed. Now or never. "I spoke to an old friend of your mother's today. A Ms. Cynthia Morris. I trust you know her?"

Ellen's eyes widened a bit. "Yeah. She used to come around a lot when Mom was alive. I haven't seen her much since Mom died though. Gramma can't stand her." Ellen looked at her feet and huffed and the expression on his face made Edward's stomach twist in how familiar it was. "She blames her for me being born the way I was."

Edward tried not to dwell on that and pressed forward. "Anyway, Ms. Morris told me about the man your mother was with around the time of your conception. His name was Edward Nashton."

Ellen looked stricken for a moment, then realization dawned on her. "Wait, I read about this..that was your name before you changed it! You're Edward Nashton!" She looked up at him and her face was lit up in triumph. "I knew it! You are my father!"

Ellen looked at him with such excitement that Edward momentarily regretted ever doubting her in the first place. "I can't be certain without a DNA test, but yes. It's highly probable now."

Ellen nodded. "Ok. What do you want me to do? Give you some of my hair? Spit in a cup?"

Edward winced. "A spare toothbrush will be more than sufficient."

Ellen rushed off without another word, leaving Edward alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a picture on the coffee table in front of the TV. Upon picking it up, he realized that it was of Diane and Ellen when Ellen was a toddler. From their surroundings, they seemed to be in a park, Diane pushing Ellen on a swing set. The two of them seemed so happy together in the photograph. Edward sighed. They seemed to have gotten on just fine without him in the picture. If Diane was still alive, would Ellen have even bothered seeking him out?

He was interrupted by the sound of Ellen walking back up to him. "Here you are," she said holding out the toothbrush. She paused when she saw what he was looking at. "Do you remember Mom at all?"

Edward placed the picture down. "No," he said. He took the toothbrush from her outstretched hand, thankful as always for his decision to wear gloves. "I'll call you when I get the results back."

"'K," Ellen answered. "Then what?"

Edward turned away to leave the apartment. "I don't know," he said, not daring to look at her. "We'll talk about it then. Goodbye." Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

A doctor who owed Edward a favor for catching his wife in an affair was willing to run the sample for him. For three days, Edward had nothing to do but work on his cases and wait for the results that would upend his world. Finally on Tuesday evening, a courier arrived at his office with the results in a sealed envelope. The man was barely out the door before Edward tore into it, ignoring the scientific jargon and going straight to the bottom line. PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 99.99% The alleged father, Edward Edwin Nashton cannot be excluded as the biological father of the tested child, Ellen Diane Dixon...

Edward sank into his office chair with a deep sigh. It was the result Edward had been prepared for since the day he'd spoken to Cynthia Morris, but really, what could ever prepare anyone for this?

"I'm a father," he whispered to no one in the room. "I'm a father." It didn't feel right to him at all. He'd never wanted to be a father. He'd never wanted that responsibility. And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about how his different his life might have been if he'd known about her from the start. He didn't regret being the Riddler in the slightest, no matter what he told Dr. Leland and the media, but...

Edward took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Before he called Ellen, he needed to decide once and for all what place she would have in his life. He'd give her money that much wasn't in doubt. No child of his was going to be dressed in an 80's party girl's castoffs. But beyond that? He weighed the pros and cons in his mind carefully. He had enough on his plate keeping himself in decent physical and mental shape. He didn't have the time to look after a minor child. But she was 15...He shook his head. She'd gotten through the first 15 years of her life well enough without him. No she hadn't. She's probably sitting right now in that cramped apartment by herself waiting for the answer to the question that's haunted her entire life... No. The last thing she needed was the complication of having a former super villain as a parent. She came to him. She knew full well who he was and she still came to him. Her own mother didn't want him involved in her life. Should her wishes be cast aside? She didn't want who he was when he was 20. He had changed since then. How exactly had he changed? Like he'd told Dr. Young all those months ago, he was reformed. That didn't make him a good person. He wasn't capable of being what she wanted. Did he even know what she wanted? Had he even asked? Even if he couldn't be a father in the traditional sense, was there harm in getting to know her? Then he remembered Strange. What would he do if he knew Edward had a daughter who could be leveraged against him? He'd never allow him that kind of power over him. She couldn't be in his life. She'd put on a costume and got herself on the evening news just to get his attention. What would she do if he outright rejected her? That wasn't his responsibility. She was his daughter, whose responsibility was she if not his-

Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed that this was a riddle with no easy answer. No matter what he did, he wouldn't be doing the right thing by her. "Riddle me this," he whispered. "When did I begin to care about what the right thing to do is?" Edward picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. He'd made up his mind.

An hour later, Ellen stood in his office, still wearing her school backpack, reading over the results for herself. "I knew it," she said, a grin coming to her face. "Ever since I saw you on the TV. I just knew!" She turned her gaze from the paper to where Edward still sat in his office chair. He hadn't moved since she'd entered. "I told you I wasn't crazy," she said to him, with a slight edge to her voice. "Now what?"

Now what indeed? "I'll start sending child support payments to your grandmother's account. A few thousand a month should suffice."

Ellen looked slightly confused. "That's it?"

Edward felt himself hesitate but set his jaw firmly. This was for the best for both of them. "That's all I can give you."

The confusion on Ellen's face gave way to something else. "But-I thought-"

"What exactly did you think?" Edward asked her. "That seeing a DNA test would make me develop a paternal instinct? I'm not capable of being the father you want me to be. I'm sorry, but I'm just not."

Ellen's face darkened and she glared at him. "How the Hell do you know what kind of father I want you to be?" she asked him. "You haven't asked me once since I met you what I wanted!"

"What do you want then?"

Ellen's face softened as she looked at him and Edward began to feel his resolves slip away. "Look," she began. "I'm not stupid. I know you're not a good guy. You're probably the biggest jerk I've ever met. I don't want to live with you or anything like that. But you're my Dad. I still want to know you."

An emotion Edward never allowed himself to feel was beginning to form in him. "And the fact that your mother kept my identity from you doesn't bother you? How do you think she'd feel if you were here talking with me?"

Ellen shrugged her shoulders. "She'd be pissed. But Mom's dead. I can't let what she would have wanted control me for the rest of my life." She looked up at him, a beseeching look on her face. "I didn't think you'd be Dad of the Year or anything like that. But don't you want to know me? Just a little bit?"

Edward pointedly looked at his desk. "You want me to love you. I don't know that I'm capable of that."

Edward couldn't see her, but he could hear her next words. "Can't you at least try?" Edward looked up at her then. Her face was flushed and unshed tears were in her eyes. In his eyes. For a brief moment, Edward was in another place and time and he was looking into the face of another child who so desperately wanted their father's love. Who did that make him now? He reached a tentative hand out across his desk. Ellen shrinked back, a defiant look in her eyes. "Forget it," she hissed out. "If you don't want me, I don't want you. See you 'round, old man." Ellen turned towards the door and walked out.

Edward could let her go. He could do what Oswald said he should and just send her money every month until she was 18. He could be done with it. Edward got out of his chair. No. He would not be them. "Ellen," he called out. "Wait."

Ellen turned as suddenly as if she'd heard a gunshot. Edward realized that this was the first time he'd called her by her actual name. He got up from his chair and began to cautiously approach her. She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. Edward supposed he deserved that. He stopped just in front of her, giving her space. "Ellen," he said again. "I...to start with, neither of us handled this well. You could have gotten in serious trouble with that Enigma stunt."

Ellen rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Edward continued. "I don't know that I can be any kind of a father to you. I'm a former super villain with a long list of enemies and a lot of issues, to put it mildly. There are certain parts of my life that you absolutely cannot be involved in, under any circumstance. And there will be absolutely no more superhero shenanigans. If you're willing to temper your expectations though..." Edward trailed off. There was no coming back from this. "I'd like to get to know you."

A small smile came back to Ellen's face. "That's all I want," she said. "So, now what?"

Edward sighed as he picked up his coat from his coat rack. "Now? I'll drop you off at your apartment, where I will have a long, serious conversation with your grandmother about just what kind of relationship we'll have."

Ellen's face fell slightly. "You..want to meet Gramma?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Well of course. She needs to be aware of this situation. Which I'm sure you've said nothing about. Did you really think you were going to keep this a secret from her?"

Ellen groaned. "She's going to kill me."

Edward let out a long suffering sigh. "You really didn't think this through, did you?"

Ellen stuck out her tongue. "Whatever old man."

Edward winced a bit as he opened the door. "Must you call me that? Can't you call me 'father'? Or 'Dad' even?" He gestured for her to exit.

"Nope," Ellen said cheekily as she walked out the office door. "You haven't earned that yet. You're Old Man. Or Pops."

Edward sighed. "I already regret this." Ellen looked up at him with a worried look. He raised a hand. "A joke." A thought came to Edward's mind. "You know," he said. "We really did get off on the wrong foot. Perhaps a reintroduction is in order."

Ellen smirked a bit and Edward's heart clenched at the familiarity. "Sure. Hiya Pops. I'm Ellen Dixon. I'm your daughter." She held out her hand to him.

A moment passed, before Edward took it. "Hello Ellen," he said. "I'm Edward Nigma. I'm your father."

It still didn't sound quite right to him. But maybe, just maybe, he could get used to it.