Title: Stranded
Fandom: Batman
Character(s)/pairing(s): Edward (The Riddler) and Bruce (Batman.)
Rating: (Currently) PG. May change in the future.
Warning(s): None as of yet!
Summary: Question: An Enigma and a Bat crash-land on an island, where do they go from there? Answer: Nowhere.

A/N: Initially I was just going to step away from this fanfiction and forget its existence, but man, you guys have definitely earned another chapter with your persistence, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get around to it.

Chapter Two

The serenity of their seaside tomb unnerved Edward. He sat out on the shore with his legs curled into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. The sleeves of his purple dress shirt had been rolled up to the crooks of his elbows, and the buttons undone, revealing a malnourished, pallid body with little muscle visible to the eye. He bit his lip anxiously as he awaited Batman's return. It had been twenty minutes—yes, he was counting—and Batman hadn't yet made his reappearance. Perhaps he had been bitten by a snake? Perhaps he had become trapped in a nature-formed booby trap? Perhaps there were cannibals inhabiting the island? Edward knew all about cannibals. He had researched them as a teenager, purely out of curiosity.

With cannibalism reigning supreme in his mind, he glanced from side to side at a humming birds pace, searching each corner of his surroundings for something out of the ordinary, something that resembled human skin and would jump him the moment his back was turned. Upon finding nothing more than a few scuttling crabs, and perhaps a few thousand insects, Edward cautiously made himself vulnerable to attack by rising to his feet.

Nothing happened, thank God.

"Paranoia," he scolded himself while edging tentatively towards the lush green forest. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek into the obstacle of trees. Just a quick look, to get a general idea of what he was dealing with.

He approached the nearest tree and laid a hand on its trunk, scratching experimentally. A handful of dust and bark fell away. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant for the tree, if anything at all, but he didn't pay it much mind and stepped past the tree to make his mark on the second one in, so he didn't get lost during his adventuring.

He proceeded to do this to every tree he passed until he had covered a considerable amount of ground. When he looked back over his shoulder to ensure the beach was still within his sights, he was met with an endless reel of tree trunks; clearly he had ventured too far.

Suddenly nervous, Edward began to speeding back the way he came, stumbling over protruding tree-branches and occasionally sinking into holes. Multiple cuts and bruises started forming themselves on his arms and legs but he didn't seem to be getting any closer to his desired destination. It was starting to get dark, and he couldn't see the beach. He couldn't see it.

He desperately circled numerous trees in search of the marks he had scratched into them, but found little evidence of his ever having been there. Whatever direction he had walked wasn't the way he had come. Eddie didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to deal with the wild. He hadn't bothered to teach himself survival tactics for this environment- he hadn't even been good at sports of a child, why would he bother involving himself with the wilderness?

Panic rose up and engulfed any sense of a plan he might have had. He began running through the forest, breathing heavily and yelling for help. It only occurred to him when he heard heavy snapping behind him that there were probably hungry carnivores prowling the forest in search of fresh meat. And he had essentially set up a neon sign flashing 'EAT ME, I'M DELICIOUS AND SCARED' with his hysterical cries for assistance.

This was just brilliant. He had just delivered himself a death sentence while trying valiantly to extend his life span.

Edward didn't have much a contingency plan in place and so he continued to run at full throttle in an attempt to lose whatever savage creature had begun to pursue him. It kept on his rhetorical tail, running at a similar speed to his own.

"No, no no no no." Edward cursed under his breath as he attempted to leap over a looming tree root. It caught his foot, sending him sprawling unceremoniously to the floor in a heap of sullied purple and green. The impact drew out a whimper, something he was embarrassed to have elicited.

Whatever had been chasing him finally made its leap, capturing him around the shoulders. He screeched in terror.

"Nygma!" came the familiar voice. "Nygma!" It repeated, when he continued to struggle and kick.

His hyperventilating eased into something manageable when he realized it was Bruce Wayne holding him down. It took all his will to suppress a moan of relief.

"Good lord, Batman," he began scornfully, still out of breath. "Why didn't you just call my name? You didn't need to chase me."

"I did," Bruce stated firmly, with perhaps a slither of concern worming its way into his otherwise nonchalant tone.

"No you didn't," Eddie argued. He could feel a leaf tickling the back of his neck as he restlessly shifted from side to side. "I would have heard you. Don't lie."

Bruce didn't immediately respond, his narrowed slits of eyes trailing over Eddie's battered visage. He placed a hand under Edward's curved chin and forcefully tilted it up.

"Are you nauseous?" he asked gently.

"Nauseous? I—what, no. I mean, I feel a little bit sick, but we just crash landed on a beach not more than an hour ago. That's inevitable. Why are you asking me if I'm sick? I'm not." Less than convincing was the feeble waver inflecting his voice. He hoped Batman didn't think too much of it.

"I was yelling to you and you didn't hear me." Bruce placed pressure on Eddie's torso so the villain would remain still while he cupped his head in two callous hands and tilted it to the side. He checked both ears for blood, and then snaked a finger into Edward's mouth to check his gums. No blood. No internal trauma. He then ran a finger over the underside of Eddie's neck in search of his pulse while the villain squirmed uncomfortably.

"Stop that," Edward snapped irritably. "I'm fine. I'm peachy. I'm a million dollars- or I would have been, had you let me get away with that damn jewel."

Bruce felt the rapid thrum of Edward's pulse against his fingers and arched a brow. "You're stressed," he stated blatantly.

Eddie scoffed, "My goodness, you really are the worlds greatest detective. Please further endow me with your brilliance."

As was typical of the caped crusader, the response was an ambiguous grunt. The hands on his shoulders finally released him.

"I told you to stay inside," Batman scowled in acidic tones. "You're going to get yourself killed, Nygma."

Edward wanted to protest and say he knew exactly what he had been doing before a certain bat had scared the concentration out of him, but that would have been both demeaning to himself and a lie. Neither of which he liked to extend during conversation.

"You left me to fend for myself," he snapped, the very picture of a petulant child. "Was I expected to simply await some horrific fate? I thought I should at least step into the forest; find something editable, in the case that you didn't return."

"I had every intention of coming back." Batman turned on his heel and began to trudge his way back towards the beach.

"I couldn't be certain of that," Eddie muttered while following suit. He kept close to Batman, just in case there were in fact malevolent animals picking up on their scent. "I had one line- one assurance to depend on."

"What did you want?" Bruce asked as he grabbed Eddie's arm and dragged him away from a snakes nest. "To sit down and receive an elongated reassurance?"

Edward looked at Bruce, and Bruce looked back, and he hastily wrenched himself out of Batman's grip to stomp the rest of the way back to the batplane.

Back at camp, the two managed to maintain a stony silence as they collaborated in setting up a fire to cook their dinner over. There were cans of food on board, only a few, but neither of them were huge fans of cold beans and spaghetti. The baby sweet corn wasn't looking particularly alluring either.

Once the fire was roaring with life, Bruce provided Edward with a pan and instructed him to hold it over the fire while he poured the beans inside. Reluctantly, he did. But only because his negative sentiments regarding Batman's past treatment of him were vastly overwhelmed by his want for food. He licked his fingers when bean juice splashed them and waited impatiently for their meal to heat. It smelt and looked better and better with each passing moment.

"Here," Bruce said once it started bubbling, passing him a plastic plate and a spoon. He accepted both items with mild gratitude. "We'll need to start rationing after this," he continued while watching Riddler shovel spoonfuls of brown gloop into his plate. He left the rest to Batman and shuffled closer to the fire to eat.

"How long will out food supply last?" Edward asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the estimate. He one-handedly began to remove his dress shoes so he could push his toes through the sand. He hadn't done that in some years, and he felt he might as well take advantage of their circumstances while he was still in good health.

"Four days at most," Batman answered.

Edward shoved a spoonful of beans into his mouth while simultaneously throwing his shoes aside and pressing the heels of his acing feet into the sand. Grains ran up his ankles in a rough caress as he spread his legs out to move his plate onto his lap.

"And if we're here longer than four days?" Edward inquired. He was sure Batman had a plan. He wouldn't be so calm, otherwise.

"I have the necessary supplies to keep us living," Bruce replied.

Why did he always have to be so vague?

Riddler stabbed at his plate, squishing an innocent bean into an unidentifiable mess of brown mush. "What, fishing rods? Rabbit traps? Be specific."

Bruce began eating his own food right out the pan, once it had cooled down enough. "You'll see for yourself tomorrow. We're going to be busy," he said before swallowing a small amount of his meal, far slower than the ravenous Edward Nygma. "Are you well enough to work?"

"I think I can manage a few menial jobs for survivals sake," Edward responded. He shoveled yet another mouthful of beans into his mouth, taking a moment to relish the unique flavor. Sea salt and an unidentifiable tomatoey sauce, warm and delicious. Better than Arkham's food, in any case.

"Good." Bruce paused to dig at his food. "You might want to clean yourself, before the night is through. There's hand-wash, but it should do as a body soap substitute."

Edward quirked a brow, "You have a shower in the plane?"

"No," Bruce replied blatantly. "We have a beach."

The detective swiveled his body around so he could observe the tide rolling to and fro along the beach. It didn't look like an ideal place to clean oneself. "Wouldn't that be a bit…counter productive? Sea salt and seaweed aren't exactly natural deodorants. I'll smell disgusting."

"You smell disgusting now," Batman pointed out.

Eddie looked absolutely insulted. "I do not," he protested, scoffing and returning to his meal. He didn't smell like a spring breeze, sure, but he wasn't absolutely repugnant.

"You do," Bruce persisted. "And you're going to clean yourself before the night is out. Understood?"

With gritted teeth, Eddie turned his back on Bruce and chewed extra hard at his food whilst imagining Batman in its place.

He cleaned himself, as requested.

Edward grumpily sloshed through tumbling waves, naked from the neck down. He had a sudded washcloth curled tightly betwixt his fingers and was unconsciously running it over his navel while he stared into the water in search of underwater predators. He didn't want to accidentally awaken an angry stingray, or attract the attention of a shark. Bruce was keeping watch- not a close watch, thank goodness- on the shore, yelling out to him on occasion to make sure the waves hadn't grabbed him and pulled him down into their depths.

Did he mention that it was freezing? Because it was. Utterly, utterly freezing; the skin on his fingers was starting to turn blue. He clenched his chattering teeth together and hastily cleaned off his face and shoulders once the coast appeared to be clear. After squeezing away the remnants of hand-wash from his washcloth, he struggled his way back to the sand to grab himself a towel or eight.

Batman was immediately at his side, wrapping a towel around his shoulders in what could almost be considered a paternal matter. Either that, or he wanted to make sure his single source of company didn't die of pneumonia. Edward wrapped the towel tighter around his quaking shoulders as he approached the roaring fire. Since his swim around the beach, Bruce had thrown a number of logs onto the fire to get it burning lively again. He lowered himself to the ground-where a towel had been laid out for him-and proceeded to dry himself while Bruce disappeared into the setting sun to have his own bath.

By the time he was dry and dressed and lounging on the sand, head cushioned by his arm, Bruce was already on his way back from his brief dip in the water. He too dried off by the fire and dressed in his old clothes, before lying down to warm up.