It was no Iceberg Lounge, but Oswald made due for the time being. The lights flickered from the power of the generators, he wondered if soon those would be a commodity more precious than money in this no-mans land.
"Sir, Jim Gordon is here." A voice announced, breaking him out of his thoughts.
"Let him in." He tried not to make it obvious how surprised he was to hear that name.
"Oswald. I was glad to hear you were okay."
"I doubt that very much. Already needing a favor, detective? It's only been a week since Valeska blew up the bridges and already you find yourself at my door." He sneered a little despite the familiar and weak flitting of his heart at the sight of the other man.
"I do. I also brought you something to help sell you on my request." Jim held up a bottle of expensive-looking red wine. "Does the fact that I'm being honest endear me at all?" He forced a smile.
"No. In fact I always found your unwavering honesty pretty bad for business. But, please, sit my old friend. I will hear you out despite my better judgement."
Jim sat and Oswald waved a tall man over to take the bottle and pour it into two small glasses. He handed his to the tall man and another to Jim, who declined at first and then gave in on Oswald's insistence. After about a minute or two of waiting, the tall man nodded, and Oswald took his drink back.
"This is a fine wine, Jim. I wasn't aware that you had this kind of taste." He smiled in admiration while sipping and swishing the wine around in the glass. "Did you buy it just for me or is it a leftover from dear Lee Thompkins?" Jim ignored how the name brought a slight sneer to Oswald's otherwise cheerful expression.
"A leftover." he admitted sheepishly. "Does that change anything?"
"No, I should think not. I was just curious."
They sat in silence for what seemed like a long time. Sipping and sighing. Oswald was reluctant to break the spell, as he had been excessively lonely this week without Butch or Edward or - well anyone really. Still, he finally coughed and straightened himself out in his chair.
"So. A favor?"
"Yes, sorry. Yes, a favor." Jim leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, face earnest.
"I need you to help me find Jeremiah Valeska." He finally said, slowly and carefully. "Last I heard, you and he weren't exactly friends. Is that still the case?"
"He tried to blow up the city, with me in it. So no, we aren't exactly friends." Oswald huffed.
"So you'll help me? I need you to be my eyes and ears in this area. Barbara refuses to meet with me, Firefly and Freeze are more interested in fighting with each other, and Ed-"
"I'll help. I'll tell you what I can, when I can. You need to give me something in return, though. This can't be like it was back then, where you ask me for favors and never repay."
Jim balked a little "This is a mutually beneficial favor. You can't rule Gotham if there's nothing left to rule."
"You've used that one before." Oswald replied darkly, thinking of being abandoned on a blimp over the river. "All I'm asking is that if you see one of my thugs running errands, you look the other way. Is that so hard to do while you focus on larger problems? I don't think I'm asking to much of you, my friend." He finished off his glass, the wine leaving his head swimming. He never could hold his drinks.
Jim's face lost the open expression it had moments ago. Oswald was almost sad to see it go. He didn't really enjoy using Jim's morals to torture him anymore, but business was business. He couldn't just do favors for people he was attracted to anymore. He wouldn't. Besides, with a vigilante running around, he didn't need Jim Gordon arresting his men trying to be a one-man police force in Gotham city.
"Jim, who will even know? The GCPD needs to be rebuilt, and Gotham is in shambles. This favor is more of a show of loyalty for me than anything else. I need to know we're in this together, that I'm not just a tool for you to use and discard again." He was stunned at how needy and vulnerable his voice suddenly sounded.
After setting his unfinished glass down on the table to his left, Jim stared at the floor. His hands were clasped tightly together, and Oswald let him think about whatever his was thinking about while he waived the tall man back to pout him a second glad of wine. He could see in the glass a light reflection of himself. His lips were red from the drink. Self-consciously he hoped his teeth were not.
"Fine Oswald. I'll leave your men alone. We meet once every two weeks and you tell me what you've heard."
"Fair enough." He nodded a polite little smile in Jim's direction. The prospect of working with Jim again excited him a little.
"If you don't have any new information then the deal is off." Jim was all business now; any semblance of friendliness was gone.
Oswald nodded. "Were you really glad to hear I was okay? Or were you just glad you could have an informant again?" He wanted it to be mocking, but the question came out sincere.
Jim stood up, Oswald followed suit. They shook hands, but Jim's hand lingered longer than expected.
"I've never wanted you dead Oswald. Even when sparing you caused me so much trouble, I never truly wanted you dead."
Their eyes softened, looking at each other and remembering when things were a little simpler. When Jim was the good guy, and Oswald was a wannabe kingpin and the biggest fight was taking down Fish and Maroni. Jim reluctantly let go of Oswald's hand.
"Two weeks, friend." Oswald called to him as he left, Jim grunted in response.