AN: my sincerest apologies for not updating sooner. I have three more chapters ready after this one but it's more of a process for than it is for wattpad. Hope you guys didn't give up on me yet!

Harvey was convinced that Jim was living the men's locker room again. He was there before Harvey, which actually wasn't that surprising, and stayed after Harvey turned in for the day. That was a little concerning.

Jim always dropped Lee off at home at the end of her shift, and a lot of the times he stayed with her. Now it was as if there wasn't a reason to go home. Well, Lee's apartment.

Harvey remembered the depressing time after Barbara left. Jim was so worn down and sad. It was depressing to even think about. Harvey never wanted to see his partner like that again.

Yet here he was, looking like a kicked golden retriever puppy. It was locker-room time all over again, except this time would be different. Harvey knew just the thing.

The slap of papers made Jim look up from his cross word puzzle.

"Riddle me this, Jimbo," Harvey repressed a smirk at his partner's surprise at the words.

"Case?," Jim asked hopefully.

"Yep, and a pretty wacky one at that," he assured and Jim sighed like he was relieved at a weird Gotham crime to solve. Harvey sat down heavily in his swivel chair. "Well, it's the beginning of a case." Jim's eyebrows furrowed. "Just look at the damn file already." Jim did as he was told, his skeptical expression remaining. Harvey sighed, annoyed.

"A... riddle?," Jim asked softly.

"A clue. To some," Harvey waved his hand around, "crime." He leaned forward so Jim could hear him better. "But I'm no good at riddles, Jim, you know that. Can ya figure it out for me?"

Jim looked like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it. He looked down at the open Manila folder, the sheet of printer paper unfolded with cut out words from a magazine plastered on it.

The off-setting words spelled:

"eveN though it comes in a can

ThYs is somethinG you shouldn't eat

Instead you add it to the wall

To Make a room look really neAt."

"Well, the answer is paint," Jim answered absentmindedly. Harvey snapped his fingers, catching Jim's attention.

"I got it. Vandalism. Spray paint, huh?," Harvey suggested confidently, nodding his head. Jim blinked.

"Um. I don't ever mean to downplay your ideas, Harv, but do you really think vandals are gonna send a note to the GCPD about what they're doing?," Jim asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, what else could it be?," Harvey tried not to grumble, but he did. Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. Then a certain forensic scientist came into view.

"What's black and white and read all over?," Ed asked, somewhat on edge. His usual smile that accompanied the riddles was replaced by a worried frown.

"Newspaper," Jim answered reflexively. "What's wrong, Ed?" Ed answered the detective by pulling the answer to his riddle from behind his back and gave it to Jim.

"BARBARA KEAN FREED"

Jim's heart crashed into the floor. There she was, smiling up at him with a sanity certificate held in front of her proudly. Right next to her, a young man held an identical certificate without his usual sinister smile. Jim stood abruptly, startling his two coworkers.

"Is this some kind of joke?," Jim hissed and slammed the paper onto Harvey's desk. He leaned over his desk with his arms as support, trying to calm his breathing. Harvey took the paper in one hand and his coffee in the other. His eyes widened as he took a long sip.

"Well, I'll be damned," Harvey said to himself. Jim plopped back down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hey, at least Lee's safe and outta town, right?" He knew he shouldn't have said that, but he really doesn't have a filter. Jim pinched his nose harder.

Ed squinted at the folder on Jim's desk, noticing the riddle almost immediately and picking it up. His lips moved along with the words and he simply said, "Paint," to no one in particular.

"Yeah, we got that, Ed. But do ya know what it means?," Harvey drawled. Ed stared off into the distance, thinking for a moment.

"Perhaps...," he started softly. "Perhaps, it is referring to the Gotham City Art District. An art gallery of sorts?," Ed suggested.

"Barbara used to own an art gallery there," Jim mentioned, the cogs in his mind turning.

"Says here that she got her job back," Harvey said while reading the rest of the article. Jim's mouth pressed into a straight line and he straightened out his (matching this time) dress pants.

"I'll bet anything that Jerome was the one to send the riddle," he growled. Jim stood again and stomped around his desk with a mumbled, "let's go."

"Woah, woah, woah, hold it right there, Boy Scout," Harvey swiveled to face Jim at the stairs, successfully stopping his partner. "You're not playing hero today, Junior."

"I'm not playing hero, I'm being a cop- a detective- ya know, my job?," Jim snapped. Harvey only smiled.

"You really don't think I know you by now? I know exactly what you'll do. You'll go charging in there, demand to see Barbara and the ginger, and even if they're completely cooperative, you'll knock Jerome's lights out for the hell of it." As Harvey predicted, Jim deflated.

"You make me sound like a thug," Jim whined.

"Well, when you're pissed, you are one," Harvey said truthfully. "Why are you so pissed anyway?"

"Because criminals escaped, Harvey! Weather or not it was legally, they're still insane and you know it. And I would not 'knock Jerome's lights out for the hell of it.'"

"But you'd demand to see Barbara." Jim mouth opened and closed, then looked away pouting. Without a further answer, Harvey continued. "Uh huh, that's what I thought. And that's why we're gonna check it out tonight instead."

"What, like breaking in?," Jim asked incredulously.

"Nope," Harvey grinned as he showed the article again. "I think we can cash in a little favor," Harvey said, his finger under the line:

"Art Gallery Sponsor Oswald Cobblepot was happy to help Kean and Valeska get back on track..."

"You've gotta be kidding me..."

A rather annoyed Detective Gordon stormed down the steps into the GCPD parking lot and to his car.

"'Solo mission,' my ass," he said to himself through gritted teeth. Harvey refused to go with him to talk to Cobblepot.

"Nope, he's your boyfriend, Jim. You go talk to him."

He hopped into his car and looked at his passenger side reflexively. He could remember nearly every glance he gave Lee in that car. Her smile, her laugh, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion, her teeth chittering from the cold, her sweaters and dresses and adorable raincoats, her special umbrella...

"Oswald," he said into the empty car, his lips working for him. He put the car in reverse and drove without needing to think of the direction anymore.

When he got there, the club was dead. He expected that of course, it being still the afternoon... at least, it seemed like the afternoon; no one could really tell with the dark rain clouds covering the sky all the damn time.

He knocked on the club door. No answer. He tried to doorknob, and voilà, the door opened. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The grey sunlight from the windows were the only light in the expansive club. It gave a strange sense of calming instead of its usual uneasy drunkenness; it was almost peaceful.

Jim rested his hands on his hips as he studied the purple decorations. He almost liked Oswald's style better than Fish Mooney's. He wondered if Oswald would be sleeping right about now, considering the criminal was wide awake when he gave Jim the rock. He felt around in his pocket until he found the gift he received from Oswald. Jim decided to leave the bow on since Selina had tied it for him.

The door was suddenly pushed open and he gracefully plopped the rock back into his pocket, despite the rush of blood through his ears. He settled his hands back on his hips to appear more natural. The Cat herself strutted through the door, her boots clicking against the title until she saw Jim.

"Selina," he greeted and smiled awkwardly, "it's good to see you." He should have expected to see her here; after all, she lived there.

Selina gave Jim a suspicious look, studying the detective up and down for, assumedly, an explanation. She didn't say a word and seemed about ready to bolt back out the door. Jim turned his gaze to the floor, not wanting to scare Selina away with his next words.

"Selina... we need to talk," only silence answered him. He looked up again to see if she left, but she was still there. She was frozen to the ground and her eyes were wide.

"No," she whispered, Jim barely hearing her.

"No?," he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm too late," her face crumpled at her words and tears slipped down her cheeks. "I couldn't- I wasn't- there," she cried and stumbled forward, eventually reaching Jim. She grabbed onto his biceps and held on for dear life. "He's gone, isn't he? I wasn't there for him and now he's gone and-," she cried into his chest, almost hugging him but not quite.

"Selina," he called softly, "what are you talking about?"

"Oswald!," she wailed.

"What the hell is going on in here?," a raspy voice asked from the hallway, the owner shuffling in with slippers a black robe. Oswald had a sour look on with his hair completely ruffled. His nap had been most rudely interrupted.

"Boss!," Selina gasped and forgot her tears. She ran across the club from Jim to Oswald and nearly tackled the man over with a hug. Oswald held the girl back awkwardly and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"My, my, I've never seen you so hysterical," Oswald grumbled into her blonde curls.

"I thought you was dead!," she pulled back and pouted.

"What in the world gave you that idea?," Oswald sassed, his hands gesturing to the "world" dramatically. Selina's index finger was suddenly directed at Jim.

"Him," before she could continue, the detective interrupted.

"Me?," Jim cried indignantly. "I didn't say anything of that nature."

"Yeah, but you came in here with all that 'we need to talk' nonsense, making it sound like someone freaking died," Selina put her hands on her own hips by now, staring Jim down.

"If you would let me finish I would've told you why I came here in the first place, but you just love fighting people for some reason," Jim crossed his arms and Selina mirrored him again.

"I do not-"

"Enough! The both of you!," Oswald boomed, his glare moving between his subordinate and the detective.

Jim had never heard Oswald's tone of authority before; it ran a strange shiver down his spine.

The small man's cold glare softened immediately.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to change," and with that Oswald shuffled away in his adorable sleepwear.

Adorable?

Harvey's words came back to him all at once.

"Everyone knows you have a soft spot for him."

Alright, so maybe Jim was protective of Penguin, but have ya seen the guy? He really did look like the cute bird from the South Pole. And the way he pouted when he didn't get his way or how sweet he treated Jim, every time without fail.

The way he pleaded in Jim's arms that day on the dock; how close they manage to get every other time they meet... Jim was the one responsible for those times Oswald was pressed flush against him: the dock, outside Barbara's apartment, the ogre. Oswald wasn't the type to get into other people's faces, much less get close to anyone at all.

Jim regretted not accepting that hug.

"Jim, you good?," Selina asked, letting the concern through. Jim nodded. He rubbed his face roughly and ran his fingers through his golden hair.

"I need a favor," he said simply. "From your boss." Selina snorted.

"When don't you?," she purred knowingly.

"Yeah, well, this one isn't a big deal. Just some questions on that art gallery he sponsors," he smiled sourly.

"The one Barbara owns?," Selina asked, genuinely curious. Jim was taken aback by the question. He opened his mouth to ask, but she cut him off. "Bruce watches the news. Heavily. He was worried about you," she mentioned like it was common knowledge.

"About... me?," Jim asked softly. The last time Jim and Bruce talked, Bruce had a berated him for not doing everything he could to become a detective again and solve the Wayne's murder case.

"Oh yeah," she rolled her eyes. "He never shuts up about ya. Always like 'he's so awesome' and 'I wanna be just like Detective Gordon when I'm older.' You were the big brother he always wanted, or something like that," Selina tallied off with her fingers. Then the realization hit. "Don't tell him I said that," she said quickly. Jim smirked.

"And what happens if I accidentally let it slip?," he teased.

"Then the last thing you'll see is Bruce's heartbroken face before I claw your eyes out. Do ya really want that, Jim?," she replied easily. He raised his hands in surrender. The ghost of the smirk lingered.

"So that was you," Jim mentioned casually.

"What was me?," she snapped.

"Oh, nothing," he sang. Before she could question Jim about his cryptic words, Oswald limped back into the room.

"Good afternoon, Jim and Selina," his flawlessly-rehearsed charismatic tone greeted warmly. "What can I help you with today?"

AN: Ik ik I suck at Jim's emotions, but hey I'm tryin here.

Also for angelmorales514 if you're still reading, I did kinda mean for Oswald to be awkward because he was not in his right head and he doesn't know how to ask for affection anyway lmao. I hope this clears up Jim's feelings towards him as I'm trying not to be too OOC yet develop their relationship, ya feel?

Thanks for all the love!