Chapter 1: Making Peace

Author's Note: Welcome back, my Penguineers and Penguinettes! So, this is the Fifth Installment within the series and, like usual, I have more fun planned for my OC and Oswald! Please read and review-I love hearing what you all think!

Tabitha was in the hospital.

Even after she had been brutally stabbed in the gut by her brother, she had managed to stay alive; Harvey Bullock had called an ambulance and she was rushed to Gotham General. The medics had managed to stabilize her, but soon after, her health had quickly deteriorated—and she was currently lying in bed, in a coma.

Normally, a nurse would come in, check on Tabitha's condition, make very little notes of improvement, and wouldn't return again until the next hour to do the exact same thing. Sitting across from Tabitha in a low, arm chair was Butch. Every hour a nurse would come alone. Every day passed like any other.

One day, he'd been relaxed (for the most part) until the same nurse came into the room, accompanied by an unexpected visitor: Sylvia Cobblepot.

Immediately, Butch stood, pulled out his loaded .44, cocked it, and aimed the barrel straight at her. The nurse, stricken with uncertainty and surprise, put her hands to her mouth, gasping. Sylvia, on other hand, had little to no reaction.

"Calm down, Butchy." Sylvia said flatly, gesturing to him. "I'm not here to kill your lady love. Nurse" (the nurse quickly met her gaze) "would you kindly?"

The nurse excused herself.

Sylvia stood at the foot of Tabitha's bed, looking over the young woman with little interest while Butch kept the gun aimed at her, more or less as a threat.

He warned, "If you touch her…."

"You'll kill me, I got it." Sylvia returned, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "I told you. I'm not going to kill her. Even if I did end her life, it would be anticlimactic. She wouldn't know the difference. And that wouldn't give me any sort of satisfaction."

Butch measured the weight of her words before sheathing his loaded weapon, noticing how less uptight she appeared, which had been a considerable change since he last saw her.

After Oswald Cobblepot was admitted to Arkham, he was brainwashed by Strange. His rehabilitation had incidentally led to Oswald and Sylvia's separation in marriage. Vowing to keep his kingdom under her control in any case he decided to 'wake up' and remember who he was and what she meant to him, Sylvia had taken over the Underworld, despite her reluctance to rule a kingdom she had never wanted. In doing so, she batted off anyone who attempted to take the kingdom away from her, including Tabitha and Butch on two different occasions, and a young man who was the Heir to the Anderson Family….that was until Sylvia made an example of him.

Sylvia was naturally more fiery, impulsive, and more sadistic than her counterpart. Being the primary ruler, that part of her personality had—in some ways—calmed down in order to allow for patience, maturity, and logical thinking to grow. In more ways than one, she wasn't the same person she used to be.

And with good reason: she had many burdens to bear, and while Oswald was gone—she carried the burden alone….well, for the most part. She had one other loyal soldier.

A soldier by the name of James Gordon, who was also her brother, one year older than she. In likeness in temper and combat, as well as in their appearances, they could have appeared identical if not for Sylvia's bright ginger-colored hair, a trait she had inherited from their mother.

It wasn't uncommon to hear Sylvia and Jim argue all the time. They stood on opposite ends where the law was concerned, but as the monsters in Gotham became weirder and more supernatural, it was becoming inherently obvious that the line of right and wrong was never so black and white. As Sylvia always said, 'it's blue, green, purple, and lots and lots of red'.

Sylvia somehow managed to become involved in his life on a weekly basis, whether that meant getting neck-deep in dangerous affairs or assisting him and Harvey Bullock with their ongoing investigations. After many months of denying it, he'd finally admitted that he needed her more than she needed him.

Taking all of this into consideration, it went without saying that Sylvia rarely took a Mental Health day.

After murdering his step family, and mourning the loss of his late father, Oswald Cobblepot had come back and took over in ruling the empire. It was also around that time that Butch joined Penguin in defeating Azrael (AKA Theo Galavan), killing him once and for all.

While he'd been working for Penguin since then, Butch hadn't seen much of Sylvia, owing to the fact that she had taken more than a couple Mental Health days to decompress. After not seeing her for a week, Butch took in Sylvia's appearance.

She was wearing a Gothic's style of fish net stockings; leather black, three-inch boots; a low-V-neck blouse the color of blood, the sleeves created a criss-cross weave with the hem ending at her elbows. Fingerless gloves cradled her hands. The look combined with the heavy, black winged eyeliner and silver eyeshadow gave Sylvia the look of a very exotic raven. The only bright color that caught the eye was in her dark auburn hair, which had a single streak of bright baby blue.

"You look…." Butch began, but he stopped in speech. He wasn't certain what he might have started to say. Was he giving her a compliment or about to insult her? Either way, he didn't finish as she interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

"I didn't really come here to have a chat," Sylvia said, walking past Tabitha's bed and meeting him in the center of the room.

"If you didn't come to kill her," Butch said coolly. "Or to talk, why are you here?"

"To make peace."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, you heard me." Sylvia said calmly. "We've had our ups and downs, especially where she is concerned…." (Her eyes shot to Tabitha indicatively and returned to Butch). "Despite that…." (her eyes briefly closed as though she was acquiring more self-control) "….I'd like to think we could put the past behind us, considering that you and I have known each for a little while."

"I'd say that's an understatement, Liv." Butch chuckled, raising his eyebrows impressively.

"Well, it remains. I mean, look at the facts. You were Fish Mooney's constant, then Victor's project" (Butch twitched involuntarily at the flashback of those bad days) "and then you were Oswald's reluctant stooge. During those days, I'd like to think you and I had a certain type of friendship."

"I figured that friendship hadn't changed."

"Well, it did the night your little girlfriend stabbed Gertrud in the fucking back," Sylvia said, her lip curling in spite. "But then again" (she sighed patiently.) "I shouldn't really blame you for that one. After all, Tabitha was the one who held the knife."

"Yeah…."

"But you were also working for Galavan."

"I didn't have a choice in that one. They fixed me."

"I'll give you that. They worked on you for a good while." Sylvia said, granting leniency. But her tone suddenly sharpened: "But you chose to be Tabitha's partner. Not to mention you tried to take the empire away from me….twice."

As she talked, Sylvia had slowly moved closer to Butch, who proudly stayed quite still. She now stood face-to-face with him, although, due to their height difference, she was at least a foot and a half shorter than he. In spite of her small stature, Sylvia commanded an intimidating presence and Butch was careful not to give the impression that he was challenging her status.

"So what's your point?" Butch said carefully.

"You're useful," Sylvia said bluntly. "Not your mind so much….but where muscle and brawn are concerned, you are, at least."

"Strike a man when he's down, huh?"

"I could be a lot more condescending if I wanted."

"I have no doubt about that."

Sylvia said lightly, "I'll get straight to the point. You're working for Penguin, are you not?"

"I guess I am."

"I'll need more of a confirmation than that." Sylvia said coolly.

"Tabitha's down for the count, Liv..."

"That much is true. She is down for the count," she said, smirking at Tabitha's incapacitated state. "But not does a confirmation of your loyalty does that make."

"What do you want from me?"

"I told you what I want."

"Did Penguin put you up to this?"

"Put me up to what?"

"This visit."

"No, I came on my own." Sylvia returned calmly. "And what I want from you, Butch, is an honest answer. When Oswald told me that you joined him, I thought he was fucking kidding. When he was serious, I had to come down here, find out for myself. I want to make sure that you're not trying to weasel out a way to undermine him."

"Yes..."

"Yes what?"

"I'm working for Penguin."

"Mmm." She sounded unconvinced.

"You don't believe me?" Butch asked—he wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was offended.

"You could say that."

"After everything you've done, Liv, there'd be no way I would try to go against you. You don't have to prove anything to me. Trust me."

"Hm. And what if Tabitha wakes up? Are you going to sequester yourself to her, and betray my husband a second time?"

"The first time wasn't really my fault."

"No, you're right—Galavan scrambled your brain, and Tabitha was the spatula." Sylvia conceded, smirking in spite of herself. "I'll give you that. But there's no more brainwashing you, and there's no excuse that would save you from me killing you if you were to betray him again. So, I'll ask again. And this time, please be forward: Are you working for Penguin?"

"Yes, I am."

"Do you work for Tabitha?"

"No…."

"Or anyone else?"

"No."

Sylvia's stern expression softened, and the corner of her mouth tugged upward.

"Good to hear it." She congratulated, offering a genuine smile to him.

"Joining up to kill Azrael…." Sylvia sighed, placing her hand on the back of Butch's arm chair, saying, "I couldn't think of a better way to restart a business relationship. That certainly makes things even between you and Penguin, I imagine."

"Did he say that?"

"Not in so many words."

"What about you and me?" Butch asked.

"What about you and me?"

"Are we square?"

Sylvia sighed, "You and I have history. By that standard, I think we should be fine. Just as long as you behave yourself if ever this thing" (She gestured to Tabitha) "decides to open its eyes."

Butch frowned: "You're not going to walk in and kill her when she wakes up, are you?"

"Killing someone just when they're waking up from a coma? That's hardly sporting. What kind of person do you think I am?" Sylvia chortled, feigning hurt, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"I don't know….but that chuckle isn't really reassuring."

"Trust me, Butch. I wouldn't harm a single hair on her pretty little head."

As a gesture of openness and honesty, Sylvia walked over to Tabitha's bed, patted the woman's forehead with a softness that only a mother could present, and then smiled lovingly at Butch.

"Unless Oswald tells me I can," Sylvia confessed darkly. "Currently, he's the only reason why this bitch is still alive."

Butch would have come to Tabitha's defense, but seeing as Sylvia was behaving and doing nothing too violent, he let that slide.

A nurse came by to record the stats. During this time, Sylvia and Butch were silent. When the nurse left, Butch turned completely to Sylvia.

"Why did you come here?" He asked.

"Weren't you listening? I came by to settle things."

"But why here, to the hospital? You couldn't have waited until I got home?"

"You've been spending every night here on that chair, Butch. I would have been waiting for only god knows how long to have this conversation with you if I tried waiting at your place. For all I know, you'd probably have tried avoiding me." Sylvia returned knowingly.

Butch nodded, supposing that to be true. He cared to note that Sylvia's eyes were like that of a hawk's as she stared at Tabitha's sleeping body. One could only imagine the horrid images flashing through her mind.

"Galavan's dead." Butch said conversationally, letting out a quiet sigh. "That should make living in Gotham a little easier."

"Until another psycho decides to wreak more havoc on the city." Sylvia reminded, sitting on an arm of the chair as Butch sat on the edge of Tabitha's bed.

"Well, before that, we'll get some quiet time."

"I don't much care for the silence."

"Too peaceful?"

Sylvia cocked an eyebrow at him, saying, "You know, contrary to what you may think of me, I am someone who likes a little peace. But silence—that moment where everything is still and quiet….in that kind of silence and shadow, that is where the darkest of minds plan and the seediest of freaks grow."

"That's poetic."

"Thank you, I made it up on the spot." Sylvia returned, smiling gratefully. Her affect became serious as she added, "The world is full of monsters."

"Most of it seems to generate in the Narrows."

"The Narrows is just a pipeline. Gotham is the root of all madness."

"It never used to be this crazy."

"I remember. But the world is changing."

"Are we?"

"Are we what?"

"Changing too?"

"We're changing every day." Sylvia exhaled, sliding off the arm of the chair. "You, me….Even Sleeping Beauty, here. We're changing every day. Some of us—not for the best."

They were quiet for a moment. In that time, Sylvia observed her fingernails, polished midnight blue.

"I really considered you a friend," Butch said suddenly, making Sylvia look at him, startled.

"I'd say you were mine as well." She admitted. "Intentional or not, you proved to be someone I could trust. Until you and little Miss Thang became an item."

"She's not that bad."

"She stabbed my mother-in-law in the back."

"She didn't have much of a choice."

"What, because Galavan was her boss?" Sylvia said cynically. "Please….she had a choice. She didn't want to release Gertrud—she wanted to have her cake and eat it too. I say she got the whole bakery: she made my husband miserable, pissed me off, and got rid of a witness all in one go."

"She's changed." Butch defended Tabitha. "She's not the same person…."

"Don't waste your time," Sylvia scoffed. "The woman I see and the woman you love are the same. Now, despite what she has done, I might have been able to get over everything but she killed the only mother figure I had."

"Penguin killed Fish." Butch reminded. "She was like a mother to you."

"Yeah, until she stabbed me in the neck and carved a fish into my skin—how motherly." Sylvia said snidely. "Fish wasn't the same person as Gertrud; Fish deserved to be thrown into the river after what she did to me, to my family. I was happy when Oswald killed her. Gertrud was sweet, affectionate, and she never did a bad thing to me, or ever spoke a word against me—Gertrud didn't deserve to die."

Butch was out of excuses. He pressed his lips tightly together, uncertain as to what to say to make things a little less tense. Sylvia crossed her arms.

"On some level, I miss her." Sylvia said, earning a curious look from Butch. She clarified, "Fish, I mean. I'd always been mischievous as a kid; but if it wasn't for Fish, I wouldn't have known how to be a real criminal. In some ways, she was a mother—I can give her that much credit. But she was more of a Tiger mom, than anything."

"Yeah," Butch reminisced. "She was hard to impress."

"And hard to please."

"No kidding," he laughed.

An awkward moment of silence intervened, during which Butch tried to pick nonexistent lint off the seat of his pants and Sylvia looked at the clock, but not really seeing the time.

"She loved you, you know," Butch said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"She loved you. Like a daughter."

"Tough love."

"Yeah, but she really loved you." Butch insisted.

"Yeah, and how did she show it?" Sylvia responded coldly. "A mother forgives a child for her transgressions, you know. And how did she forgive me? She carves a fish into my neck. She stabs Oswald's hand with a fucking broach pen. And she strung up my husband, my brother, and Harvey Bullock like three people getting ready to be hung on the gallows. And when she and Maroni were about to kill Falcone and the others, where was I? I can tell you where. In a fucking janitor closet, thanks to you."

"I was following orders."

"Her orders—"

"I told you I was sorry about that."

"Well, the King's Men and Horses said sorry when they couldn't figure out how to fix an egg, but that didn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again, did it?" Sylvia returned sarcastically.

Butch cleared his throat uncomfortably. She certainly could make a man feel like he was treading on egg shells.

"She still loved you." He persisted. "Maybe not in the way a mother would love her daughter, but I know it."

Sylvia crossed her arms in a pout, saying, "She may have but her death was no less deserving."

"I miss those days. You know, back when all we had to worry about was Falcone and Maroni having it out at each other."

"Back when Oz was managing a restaurant and I was a fucking shift lead?"

"You gotta admit, those were good days—compared to what we've dealt with in the past couple of weeks."

"Cards on the table, Butch: I try to forget those days."

"I don't mean the days when you were working for Maroni," Butch said, wincing a little. "You deserve a lot of what happened to you, but that incident with Maroni's men….I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"I still have dreams about that. Nightmares, you know," Sylvia muttered, glancing at Butch who met her eyes sympathetically.

"Do you?"

"Every time I go to sleep," She said darkly. "I remember Mack—that fucking yellow Spongecake. I remember what it felt like to be powerless, unable to stop it….unable to stop him. It's a defenseless feeling, you know, being unable to stop someone from hurting you. Even though I know I killed him, that he died, that I made him suffer before he did….when I go to sleep, and I dream, it's like it doesn't matter. It happens all over again...when I wake up, realize that it's over, I breathe, I get over it, and I start my day….just so I can fall back to sleep and do it all over again."

Butch frowned. He stood, and walked over to her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sylvia asked suspiciously.

Without saying anything, Butch put his arms around her. He hugged her. Sylvia welcomed it, although she didn't hug him back. He took a step back from her, sending her a supportive smile.

"Something happens every night though," She said encouragingly. "I tell myself that it makes me stronger for surviving it. At least, it keeps me from driving myself completely insane."

"And you have Oswald." Butch reminded.

"Yes. I have Oswald."

"Does he still feel guilty for what happened?"

"I can't tell." Sylvia confessed, smiling a little. "We've ghosted over the topic a few times, but I can't tell if he still does. I told him not to worry about it."

"He's more protective of you since then."

"No doubt he is."

"I am too…."

"Are you?" Sylvia questioned, smirking. "I couldn't tell. You fawn over Tabitha so much, I can't imagine you still have room in your heart for little old me."

"Despite what happened between us in the past, I still have a soft spot for you, Liv. Even if it's smaller than my fingernail."

"How sweet." Sylvia returned sardonically. "I never knew you cared so much for me."

"It's the reason why I persuaded Tabitha not to come for you a third time."

"Yeah, because the first two times you tried taking over my empire was not enough."

"We wouldn't have taken over."

"She would have," Sylvia pointed out. "She was greedy."

"After being undermined by people so many times, can you blame her?"

"If she seeks retribution for how her brother treated her, that's not my problem." Sylvia said, shrugging. "Instead of killing Galavan—like I would have if he was my brother—she decided to remind Galavan of who he was. By the way, she is the reason Bruce Wayne nearly died that night."

"She didn't mean to do it."

"Coming to her defense, as usual."

"Like how you defend Penguin."

"It's easy for me to defend him," Sylvia countered. "He didn't kill Gertrud."

"He's killed plenty of people."

"That he has. But so have I. You, me, Tabitha, Oswald—we're all just a bunch of little sinners. Personally, I wouldn't be too occupied with what Oswald or I have done in the past. If I were you, I'd be more concerned about what you did to Barbara."

"I didn't do anything to her."

"You kicked her out."

"She was crazy!"

"So?" Sylvia questioned, gesturing to him. "She just got out of Arkham. What do you expect? Plus, she has a certificate of sanity. That's something to consider."

"I don't know how—Strange is just releasing people left and right. You think he'd be a little more particular."

"You give that hack a lot more credit for being sane than I do."

Butch backtracked to his earlier point: "Barbara's fine. She'll be okay."

"Yeah, she will be. She's been living with Oswald and me for the past two weeks."

"And how's that working?"

"Like a charm," Sylvia said sarcastically.

"So you're getting tired of her too." Butch said, smirking at her.

"You know, it was one thing when she wasn't fucking crazy. Back when she was engaged to my brother, it was easier to tolerate her." Sylvia said, looking up at the ceiling. "Now it's like living with a hyper, Homecoming Queen. Everything has to be this way, that way, this, that, and the other. She likes interior decorating—I've been fine with her rearranging the mansion to fit her tastes, but it's starting to disrupt my day-to-day activities."

"Such as?" Butch said humorously.

"She moved the couch in the middle of the night," Sylvia exclaimed. "I damn near broke my neck just walking through the living room. Hit my foot on the leg of the couch, and tripped over the fucking coffee table."

"It's part of the reason why I kicked her out." Butch said, taking a disposable paper cup from the counter of the sink in the hospital room, and filling it with tap water from the faucet. "But interior design isn't my thing."

"Are you certain of that?"

"I'm pretty certain: never cared much for arranging furniture."

"I'm not talking about that. I meant the reason behind kicking her out."

Butch narrowed his eyes at Sylvia pointedly, saying, "What are you getting at?"

"Well, it's not exactly a secret, Butchy. You, Barbara, Tabitha—the poster peeps of the ménage à trois." Sylvia hummed, smirking wickedly at him. "How did it go? You and Tabitha, then Tabitha and Babs—did you and Babs ever…."

"It was just strictly those two," Butch said quickly, pointing at Tabitha. "I don't—I wouldn't—"

"Ooh, no need to get all defensive, babe." Sylvia cooed. "No one would blame you, you know. Barbara is a very beautiful woman. Once or twice when she was fucking that Montoya cop, I thought about offering my company."

Butch's eyebrows raised curiously, as he said, "Have you ever…."

"No." Sylvia answered his silent question. "Personally, I haven't. I've been interested, but mildly only. But the matter itself has never been presented to Oswald or me. I mean, even if it was…well, he's not exactly open to sharing me with another person. And I wouldn't like any woman near him. I think the only solution if ever the concept of a threesome were to arise would for the third person to be a male."

"Another man?" Butch chuckled, shaking his head. "You think Penguin would be okay with that? Seeing you with another guy?"

"Don't know. Never brought it up."

"Got anyone in mind?" asked Butch, intrigued.

"Are you offering me your company?" Sylvia teased.

Butch quickly turned a shade of bright red, even started sweating a little as he said quickly, "Uh—what-oh no, no, no…."

"Don't think Tabitha would like that?"

"Well, to be quite honest and transparent with you, Liv—I don't want to know—"

"Calm down, man. I'm just playing with you. Settle."

Butch was more than happy to turn the attention on her, asking, "Do you have anyone in mind if the subject were to come up?"

Sylvia smiled guiltily but she didn't say it.

In all honesty, she and Ed Nygma had this very conversation in the past, back when Ed had confessed his feelings (both sexual and romantic) to her and Sylvia had admitted the same. And while the conversation had led to a dangerous place—and while she was still at odds with the fact that Ed had primarily been responsible for framing Jim and putting him in prison—Sylvia still thought of the idea.

The idea of having Oswald, Ed, and herself naked in a bed had been mind-numbing and during nights when Oswald worked late in the office as the Kingpin, discussing matters with the Five Families as well as performing a few duties of his own, Sylvia would lie awake in bed, playing with herself and imagining the three of them entangled under the bed sheets.

"No one in particular," Sylvia said finally, although she felt the heat rising to her face.

At that moment, a nurse came in, jotting down Tabitha's never-changing stats, and then exited the room. Somehow, this provided enough of a segue that Sylvia's embarrassment subsided, giving way to another conversation needing to be had.

"Penguin wants Hugo Strange." Butch said, business-like.

"I am aware that he does. He put Oswald through hell. Myself, included."

"How so?"

"He made Oswald forget who he was," Sylvia said darkly. "I haven't forgiven Strange for doing that. Not to mention the fact that he failed to inform me that he was intercepting all forms of communication between Oswald and me. The fucker made Oswald think he was going through rehabilitation all alone."

"I imagine this is yet another reason you came by?" Butch assumed. "To help Penguin find Strange?"

Sylvia's smile was all the response he needed.

Butch said lightly, "How are we supposed to find Strange."

"Finding Strange is easy. He's locked up in his hospital."

"So we go through the hospital."

"It'd be easy enough, but he has multiple guards."

"So we kill them," Butch offered.

"Theoretically, that would work. But there's more to it than you think."

"What's more to it?"

"He's building monsters."

"Monsters?"

"Yes, Butch. Monsters. Like Azrael. Like Victor."

"Zsasz?"

"No. Fries."

"Fries is dead."

"That's what Strange would have you believe," Sylvia mused, as she leaned her back against the wall. "But it's not true."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because my brother saw Fries."

"Jim saw Victor?"

"In the flesh….but Victor isn't what he used to be. He's been walking around in some kind of metal suit, freezing people left and right. Not exactly a lively thing, but he's certainly not dead." Sylvia stated. "And if Mr. Freeze is alive, I certainly believe there will be others coming back from the void as well."

"Who?"

"Who knows. People who are currently dead are as follows: Fish….Jerome Valeska….God forbid any of them come back from the dead." Sylvia muttered.

"So if Gordon knows Strange is doing illegal stuff, why hasn't Strange been arrested?" Butch questioned.

"Strange isn't stupid. He had everything shredded—any and all of the evidence—before my brother and Harvey Bullock could descend on the situation," Sylvia uttered hatefully.

"Victor Fries is only one man. Azrael too—how do you know there are more monsters in the basement?" Butch questioned, confused. "What's your source?"

"Edward Nygma."

"Who?"

"Edward Nygma. He used to be the Forensics for the GCPD until he framed Jim for Galavan's death."

"He framed your brother for killing Galavan?"

"Yes he did."

"I thought you killed Galavan."

"The first time, yes I did." Sylvia confirmed. "But Edward is clever. He framed Jim and got him arrested and put into Black Gate for a time."

"And you visited him?"

"I did."

"Why would you talk to him?" Butch questioned. "Why would you give him the time of day if he hurt your family and you? You just finished telling me how much you want to kill Tabby for doing what she's done to you—for what Fish did—and this is your brother…."

"It's complicated," Sylvia returned unhappily. "If you can't tell, all of my friendships are. With you, with Ed—they're complicated. Particularly with him. And that's not really the point. My point is that I visited him in Arkham. I talked to him. One night, he escaped his cell. He told me that inmates were disappearing down a hallway, never to be seen again. He tracked it, found the door, picked the lock, took an elevator down to the bottom-most floor, and he saw people dead, alive, and the undead. By the time he finished explaining it all to me, he was almost in hysterics. After I calmed him down, he told me that Strange has been making people—creating them back from the dead—and turning them into things."

Butch chuckled, "If I didn't know better, I say you like Nygma."

"We're talking about people coming back to life," Sylvia said curtly, "And you want to talk about my relationship regarding Ed?"

"Like I said, if I didn't know you better—"

"—I'd say you know a lot less."

"I'm just saying….Barbara….Oswald….Edward Nygma….it seems you might have a thing for crazies…."

Sylvia bounced herself off the wall. The armchair that Butch had previously occupied was the only barrier between them; Sylvia's hands balanced on one of the arms and she leaned forward.

"I'm this close to pushing you off a goddamn cliff," Sylvia threatened. "Kindly keep your assumptions to yourself, yeah?"

Butch nodded quickly, although his simpering smirk never left his face.

"Edward Nygma isn't a lunatic," Sylvia told him calmly. "He's a genius. Smarter than you or myself."

"So he's smart. He put your brother behind bars."

"A crime that he's paying for currently."

"And you're fine with this—you're fine with him framing your brother?"

"Of course, I'm not!"

"But you're still his friend—"

"—On a whim—"

"—You visited him—"

"I came to him for information I knew only he'd have," Sylvia responded hotly. "Yes, he put my brother in jail. Yes, he hurt me in a way that is unforgivable, but he's seeking retribution for it. He's trying to make it up to me. Being locked up in a crazy house pretty much limits his abilities to do it, so I've been giving him a few different options. So far, he has taken each and every one of them, including helping me find out what Strange plans to do with all these fucking Frankensteins."

Butch appeared deep in thought, then asked, "How does someone arrest Strange if he got rid of all the evidence?"

"That's a good question," Sylvia muttered. "I have to talk to Jim—he's been trying to go about finding a way inside Arkham Asylum. To find evidence that Strange has locked away."

"He wants Strange too?" Butch asked.

"Yes, but for different reasons," Sylvia answered, and she didn't bother explaining it, at least not to him.

The truth be told, Jim Gordon was after Strange's secrets ever since he figured out that the doctor was the man known as the 'The Philosopher'. It had only been a nickname, but The Lady claimed the 'Philosopher' had been the one to put the hit out on Thomas and Martha Wayne, sending Matches Malone to do the deed, and orphaning young Bruce one fateful night. After finding out that Strange was dirty, Jim and Harvey Bullock had visited Strange twice; first, it was to find out Strange was dirty, and after finding out he was, the second visit was a raid. The doctor and his assistant, Ms. Peabody, had shredded all incriminating evidence—after, Jim and Harvey had left empty-handed.

While Harvey and Jim wanted justice for what Strange had done, Sylvia wanted to see the Head of Psychiatry locked away for more personal reasons, which included Strange's involvement in causing Oswald and her to separate for a time, as well has having been the primary cause for aforementioned separation….considering the fact that it was Strange's fault for brainwashing Oswald to the point the latter believed he no longer felt that he nor Sylvia were compatible lovers.

Needless to say, Strange had made quite a few enemies.

Whether Jim was going for the third try, Sylvia wasn't certain. She was adamant about helping Bruce find atonement for his parents, but there was a line she had to draw in order to not become so involved in the investigation.

After all, she did have a life that didn't evolve around Jim's antics. Lean on Vee's still had to be run by someone who knew the club business, and even though she had stepped down from being the One Ruler of the Underworld, she still aimed to be at Oswald's disposal if he needed to fire ammunition.

Oswald had slowly gotten his affairs in order; his power house had become his own Mansion where business was conducted. Occasionally, the former Falcone Mansion was used as Headquarters in order to keep the business matters from infiltrating private moments between Oswald and Sylvia. Otherwise, business was conducted at the Van Dahl mansion.

"Have you heard from Gordon?" Butch asked curiously.

"Not recently." Sylvia returned, chewing on the nail of her pinky nervously. "It has me worried, actually."

"With Gordon being a cop and all," Butch said good-humoredly, "I figured he would be the more protective one."

"Jim and I are a lot alike. We're both emotionally invested into things." Sylvia explained. "When one becomes obsessed, the other must play the part of the older sibling. Right now, all Jim wants is to find Strange and give him what the psychiatrist deserves, even if it means getting himself into trouble."

"Sounds like a lot of work, looking after Gordon."

"You're right about that."

"So what's the would-be cop up to these days?"

"Last I heard, he was going after Strange a third time. I don't know how he's getting through though; Strange knows his face by now, knows he's a meddlesome guy. Unless they went in by force..."

Her words trailed off, but her eyes suddenly had a brilliant twinkle. Butch could see that whatever it was Sylvia had been pondering on for the last few days had suddenly clicked into place.

"I'll see you later." She said suddenly, turning on her heel and walking out of the room.

"Nice talking to you!" Butch called after her, then turned to Tabitha who was still sleeping in bed. "Between you and me, Tabby—she scares me more than you ever could."