Disclaimer: "DC owns all and every copyrights to Batman, including all related characters, and all related whatsoever's pertaining to Batman. The author has no connections of any sorts directly or indirectly with DC; therefore the author would like to point out that she does not claim any such rights to Oswald Cobblepot aka The Penguin. The following story is a fan fiction written purely out of fan-loving entertainment purposes to which no such profits of any sorts has been gained in the making of. The author does, however, claim rights to her original character(s) including this fan fiction."

"Still she haunts me, phantomwise[…]moving under skies, never seen by waking eyes."
Lewis Carrol (from poem A Boat beneath a Starry Sky)

~ She Haunts Me ~

Images became a blur before it turned into complete darkness.

Eyes fluttering open, consciousness slowly taking over his entire body, Oswald woke up to find himself lying on his side, the window being the first thing that welcomed his line of vision. The curtains hung limply like white ghostly figures. He noticed the night lamp was on, realizing that he probably forgot to turn it off before going to sleep.

Slowly he sat up, the sheets settling down to his waist, as he reached up for the digital clock on the cabinet drawer by the headboard to his left. As he had expected, it was still too early in the morning, too early that it was still dark. He cursed under his breath as he fell back on his pillow, knowing that he won't be able to go back to sleep just like before.

This had got to stop.

Three nights. Three bloody straight nights of suddenly waking up in the early morning all because of some dream caused by some woman. This wouldn't have bothered him that much if only he hadn't noticed how this woman was suddenly making him feel.

It started at the Iceberg Lounge, a fortnight prior, where he was approached by one of his employees bringing up to his attention about a rather curious reservation. A table for two was requested, signed by someone who goes by the alias of 'Empress'. The other person in particular to whom the table was to be shared with was also specifically mentioned as 'Mr. Oswald Cobblepot'. Clearly someone wants to get his attention, and that particular someone had just succeeded. So he made the arrangement himself, wherein the table reserved was his own private table at the Iceberg.

The reservation was set at 8:30; Oswald came into the Iceberg thirty minutes prior and waited to be approached by a woman. Any woman. Since he didn't know what exactly to expect he just kept an eye out on all the female guests coming into the club, young and old alike, pretty or not. It was only a few minutes after the appointed time did the mysterious Empress did come and had graced his club with her presence.

Oh and indeed was she something he wasn't expecting.

Short blond hair cut at her jaw line, a body hugging halter-neck violet dress with a slit at the right, which he only noticed after she removed her coat. She moved with such grace, such elegance, everything about it showed such femininity. And her eyes, the moment she got close enough he was able to study those deep green eyes, which looked at him in a curious way, but it wasn't judging him. And her smile was kind; her lips painted with red lipstick curled in a soft manner, as she asked him if he was the man she was suppose to share a table with, as per her reservation.

He had stood up from his seat the moment she got within four feet from the table, and he had simply confirmed that he was indeed Oswald Cobblepot, smiling up to her as he did, and marveling at her feminine beauty. She had reached out a hand towards him, in a way that would imply a handshake was expected, as she introduced herself as Genevieve Travis. He took her hand but instead of shaking it, as what he believed was what she expected, he raised it to his lips and planted a careful kiss on her knuckles, brushing his lips softly on that silky skin. He was amused of the surprised look on her face when he once again looked up to her. The look though implied that she was surprised in a pleasant way, judging by how she shyly looked away from him for a moment with an equally shy smile.

As soon as they were seated he ordered for dinner and some wine after the meal, but she refused the drink, her reason being that she doesn't mix drinking with smoking. He could have commented on how smoking seemed unlady-like but he found he didn't mind at all with her. He found out that she favored one of them black cigarettes, those flavored ones. When asked about it she simply said that she likes to stand out in a crowd.

They talked mostly about each of their shady businesses by then. She was an arms dealer from Metropolis, moving into Gotham thinking that, despite the bat-pest, it was an interesting city to do business in. She also said that one of her reasons was him. Said that she had heard of his vast connections, and would want to do business with him in close contact, that is if he would allow it. He found he couldn't refuse her.

They parted that night with a promise of seeing each other again when both their schedules allow them, but this time, within the confines and intimacy of his home. She agreed by taking his hand in hers, reaching for it from across the table, leaning in a little closer as she raised it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles through the fabric of his glove, leaving a red mark of her lips on the white fabric, as she smiled while looking at him straight in the eye saying, "I look forward to our next meeting," before standing up to leave. She had managed to creep into his thoughts since then.

He had anticipated their next meeting at his home, which came a few days afterwards, and found her as quite a tease when she showed up in a backless green evening gown. They've talked of a lot of things the second time they had dinner together, she merely complimented his décor, the food and the wine (she didn't smoke that time) and he simply commented on how he found it rather odd for someone like her to be involve in the business she was in.

He found out more about her on their second meeting. She didn't go into details but she did say she inherited most of her business in the black market form her father, and that she had always looked forward to running them herself even as a little girl. He in turn couldn't help but share a few about himself to her. It seemed easy to talk to her about it.

But alas, the night has to end at some point, and so was their little chat. He escorted her outside to her car, even opening the car door for her. They were saying their goodbye's, saying how each of them had a wonderful night, before she reached out a hand to his sleeve and pulled him close. She was half in the car, half out, her right foot still planted on the ground while the other was within the car along with most of her body.

She looked up to him straight in the eye and had asked, "Will I see you again?"

He was taken aback by the question, where the only reply he could muster was "You could always find me in the Iceberg."

She graced him with her smile, kind and a little seductive. He found himself staring into those lips of hers before it happened.

It just happened so fast, that before he even realized what it was, he found her lips pressed to his, both of them inhaling through their noses for air before their lips parted with a soft sound and exhaled their breaths. It was a brief kiss, but it was enough for her to do quite a number on him. He stared at her blankly, not knowing what to say to her, also because he suddenly realized that Lark probably saw it, including the driver.

But he didn't have time to think about that when her head bumped into the frame of the car door, eliciting a soft curse from her as she quickly landed a hand to the back of her head. He suddenly blurted out, "Are you alright, my dear?" It was the very first time he called her anything other than 'Miss Travis'. The awkwardness she was probably feeling at that moment, showed on her face, but she managed to smile and say she was alright.

She left him one last smile when he closed the door, just before the dark window glass of the car window rolled up to hide her from his view. He stared after the car as it drove away.

Since then Genevieve Travis managed to invade his dreams every night.

He got out of bed, the coldness of an early morning seeping through his sleeping clothes, so he pulled on his evening coat. Turning on the lights he searched for his lighter and cigarette. Placing his cigarette holder to his lips he took a drag. He went out to the balcony, staring blankly into nothing in particular.

If his dreams were trying to tell him something, the message had just gotten through; he needed to see her again. And perhaps, again and again and again after that.

Oh, to hell with it.

END..?

Author's Note: This was a plot bunny that had been hopping around my head for some time so I had to get it out of my system. Also, this is my first try of ever writing Penguin under the Comics category, so you may criticize if you like but please don't judge too much, and no flames. ~ sankage