Never Fear

50

"What's he doing?"

"Struggling, Willow. He's struggling."

"Are you sure? It looks more like drunken stumbling."

"Well, I upped the dose."

"...So he's like...proper out of it?"

"Well, not totally out of it or he wouldn't still be moving."

"Oh was that agitation I heard in your voice, Doctor?"

Jonathan shot Willow a look as the Batman continued to struggle down the long corridor towards them. He did have a moment of running towards them, but the more energy he used the more oxygen he needed to regulate throughout his body. This meant breathing in more toxins. He wasn't wholly surprised to see Jonathan, or Willow again.

"You know by now you're usually a hysterical crying heap in the corner of a room." Jonathan quipped back. He didn't exactly like Willow's jibbing of being only a slightly annoyed over the Batman's capability to still be functioning.

Willow's eyes narrowed up at him. "Well usually by now I've kicked you few good times."

Jonathan smirked and readjusted his mask, he'd briefly given Willow a mask to protect her from the toxins, for when they encountered them. "Touché."

"Game, set, match." Willow held her hand out.

"Although before kicking me a good few times you've happened to crawl away like an injured puppy. Then you start kicking."

"Oh, you're not letting this childish argument go are you?"

"No."

"Fine!" Willow exclaimed and flung her hands in the air. She was silent, trying to think up a comeback, "I think we should move. He's sort of gotten closer since our...conversation."

"I agree with you. This way, Willow." Jonathan pushed away from the wall. Willow stood up from the desk she was sitting at and walked quickly behind him.

"By the way," Willow skipped around and walked in front of Jonathan backwards. Pointing a finger up at him she smiled while pulling the mask off. "That argument, it was a draw."

"If that makes you feel any better."

Pouting, Willow crossed her arms. "Excuse me. Any half brained man knows that women win nearly every argument. Do you know why?"

"Because men humour women. They let them win, mainly because they cannot be bothered to listen to their insistent nagging and whining." Jonathan stated simply while he had great satisfaction in watching Willow's smug expression disappear slowly off of her face with each word he spoke. She ended up walking backwards looking rather defeated.

"Do I nag and whine?"

"No, you're rather well behaved." Jonathan said simply while reaching up and pulling his mask off and folding it up and putting it into his jacket pocket.

"You make me sound like a pet." Willow's face looked up at him bluntly. "I'm not a pet."

"I never suggested you was."

"That sounds so wrong. Oh, he's stumbling behind you. Well...when I say behind you, I mean he's collapsed almost through the door." Willow smiled and walked backwards around the corner.

Jonathan looked over his shoulder and frowned. "He just doesn't stop does he?"

"He's hunting us down, dear. He's not going to stop. He'll stop when we're in our cells."

"You in Blackgate, and me in here."

"You sound almost sad." Willow paused. "Almost." She clapped her hands together. "I'd be distraught! I don't want to leave you again." Jonathan nodded slowly and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around they walked down the stairs. As much as he didn't doubt her apparent skill of walking backwards, he doubted it still worked as well with stairs. Standing at the end of the stairs the two of them watched as the taller man appeared at the top. His shadow cast down on them, suddenly eclipsing them from the little light which was already in the space.