Chapter Fourteen: Secrets Spoken In The Snow

In the time that passed, Sylvia became more paranoid. The only people she trusted belonged to her inner circle: Dagger, Chilly, Gabe, Brittany, Delilah, and Mr. Bell. Everyone else was either an enemy or an acquaintance she barely let step twenty feet closer to her. Aside from Ed, her friends were few and far between.

Weeks had passed.

She and Oswald were separated and her brother was still serving time for crimes he didn't commit.

Her power struggle with Tabitha and Butch was surprisingly short-lived when neither of them dared to contest her for a third time. And this was due to the last example made when Drake Anderson tried to go behind her back and make deals with the other contenders. Word got out, and Sylvia smashed his head into the carpet with a cinder block.

While she had been very tolerant of insubordination, even to the point where she behaved almost diplomatically, it seemed like the last of her patience had been exuded after Anderson's death got out. It was bound to happen; he was a made man within the Anderson Family, and the father was so devastated that he'd sent a hitman after Sylvia; luckily, for her, Victor Zsasz knew said hitman, offered him a deal, and the contract was swept under the rug.

Her temper was getting the best of her, but not without a fight. When after she found out through a thug that it was the senior Anderson who had put a hit out on her, Sylvia also discovered from the same source that her brother had been busted out of jail. No one knew how or why, but he was out and lurking around Gotham somewhere.

She figured Jim would have come to her. Then again, knowing her affiliation with the baddies who would be more than willing to catch him for a price, the odds of Jim asking for her help were little to none.

Odds are, he'd found out about Lee and how she'd lost the baby. The news was devastating to begin with, and it pained Sylvia to know it...but there wasn't much to be done about it. And going after Lee would only make things harder for the doctor, wouldn't it? After all, Sylvia was Jim's sister. Just that knowledge alone would erase all the work Lee had done in order to move on.

Occasionally, Ed made the visit to see how well Sylvia was doing. She didn't really say much of anything. And with that said, Ed couldn't offer much advice. He knew once he'd started talking, all of his secrets—including the one about framing Jim Gordon—would leak out and then, oh boy, he'd be in a shit of trouble.

He hadn't even considered the possibility of getting arrested by the officers. He was just too wound up about what Sylvia would do if she found out. He'd made it impossible for anyone to know it was him: disguised his voice, that sort of thing.

That had been easy enough.

But then….lo and behold, Jim popped up out of no where. He had to improvise, tell him that there was no way of figuring out the voice that had reported the crime to IA. Jim saw Ed as a friend; that was easy enough to use. But then, of course, Jim had to make things so much more difficult.

The tape came clean. And because of that, so had Ed.

Now here they were. With Ed dragging Jim by the feet to the trunk of his car, banking on the fact that he'd have to not only move Kristen Kringle but make room for Jim's dilapidated body, it was going to be an all-nighter. That's why Ed packed a few expressos.

"I hope you like outdoors, Jimbo," Ed mused as he opened the trunk. "I know just the spot."

He turned. And the body was gone. He looked up, and Jim was climbing into a window. Ed whipped out the gun, started shooting, but Jim was a slippery bastard. Even though he got him with a round, Jim still evaded.

"Damn it!" Ed grunted.

He ran inside the building. Looked like a factory of some sort. Ed looked left and right, but saw no Jim Gordon. No surprise there.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are," Ed taunted.

He started strolling forward. Cautiously.

"I bet you're wondering," he said, "'Why would Ed do this to me? Set me up. Ruin my life.' I'll give you a hint, Jimbo. K.K."

Ed heard Jim's uttered answer ("Kristen Kringle") and he was chasing after him like a dog after a mongoose. And just as quickly, he'd lost him. Well….back to the drawing board.

Ed would have to rebury Kristen, hide her body.

You idiot.

Ed sighed, looking up at the sky as he started uprooting the snowy soil from Kristen's burial plot. Not this guy again.

As though the darker Edward heard him (and, let's be honest, he did), the man materialized up out of the ground, sitting on the snow as though it was a comfortable blanket rather than cold precipitation.

"Sylvia was right," Edward scoffed. "You really don't know what you're getting into. She knew you'd buckle under the pressure…one body in the ground, and you're going bat shit crazy, aren't ya?"

Ed grumbled as he stomped the shovel deep into the snow, saying, "I'm not listening to you. You might as well just go away."

"This was a terrible way to go."

"I planned it perfectly," Ed snapped, glaring at his mirrored self. "And you know it. Gordon is sneaking around; Bullock's no better. It….."

"She said it was only a matter of time," said Edward sinisterly, a dark chuckle following after. "You know what, I'll cut you a break. You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would. With the bird and her all but divorced, that would have been your golden opportunity to step in as the triumphant hero, but no...you got cold feet."

Ed murmured, "She's been in a bad temper, mind you. And thanks to you" (Ed thrusted a finger towards the other Edward) "she won't let me get another inch near her."

"Well, bud, you kissed her."

"No, you did!" Ed growled. "If we did what I wanted, we wouldn't be in this situation right now. We wouldn't be digging up Ms. Kringle, because she wouldn't have liked the confident you. And we wouldn't even be in this situation because she wouldn't be dead because we wouldn't have stepped thirty-five feet towards her."

"Kringle wouldn't be dead, but you'd still want Sylvia," reminded Edward.

"She has more things to worry about than a relationship."

"Yeah, because you put her brother in jail."

"He was getting too close," Ed argued. "He would've found Kringle."

"What happens when Sylvia finds out what you've done?" Edward laughed. "Oh man! She is going to be punitive with you!"

"She's going to be mad at you too, you know."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one in control right now, am I?" Edward scoffed.

Ed sighed, "I'm ignoring you now."

He was just about to pick up the box when he heard a twig snapping. He slowly put down the shovel, then took the gun from his innermost pocket, pointing it behind him, facing that direction.

"Jim Gordon…." Ed drawled. "So you found Penguin, huh. And that little bird sang. He told you what happened to Ms. Kringle, didn't he?"

"No." Jim answered, holding up his hands in surrender. "I just followed you."

"Of course." Ed muttered, looking up at the sky. "That's the plot twist of a century, isn't it?"

"How did this happen to you?" asked Jim. "How did you become this?"

Ed lowered the gun for a second, saying practically, "It's funny you say that, Jim. I've always been this. It just took me some time to admit it to myself. And a few incidents in between….and murdering some people."

"I don't believe that."

"You don't believe that? Why, Jim. Because it would make you incompetent to know that I was right under your nose? Or you don't want to admit that there's a monster in all of us—because you of all people should know that!" Ed shouted, then he laughed, "That's what made it so easy for me to frame you!"

"I was your friend."

Ed scoffed, "Were you, Jim? Were you my friend? Or did you just pity me? 'Poor little Ed with his silly little wordplay and his riddles'."

"I considered you my friend."

"The fun part about that," said Ed calmly, "is that I almost thought you were. Now, Sylvia—on the other hand—she's a real friend, you know. She never betrayed me….even with her knowing what happened to Ms. Kringle, and Dougherty. But let's be honest—none of us liked him. But Sylvia….She forgives, and forgets—"

"Her forgiveness isn't cheap," said Jim darkly. "You have to earn it."

"That, we both can agree on. I heard Drake Anderson got his head smashed in with a brick after she found out he was trying to go behind her back," said Ed, smirking. "It would turn a lot of guys off—that kind of temper—but I find that it just keeps pulling me right back."

"When Vee finds out what you've put me through—"

"How will she find out, if you're dead," Ed offered logically. "If killing you is going to be anything like framing you, I imagine it'll be easy as pie."

"You're completely insane." Jim told him.

"Yeah. Well….it's probably easier for you to think that." Ed said lazily. "How about one last riddle for old time's sake?"

"Sure. Why not."

"A nightmare for some. For others, a savior, I come. My hands, cold and bleak. It's the warm hearts, they seek." Ed riddled. "What am I?"

"Death." Jim answered.

"Right again,," said Ed, giving him a thumb's up. Then he turned that thumb's up into a wave of good-bye. Just as he was about to shoot Jim, he heard Barnes shout at him.

He tried to tell him that he was arresting Jim, but apparently, they'd heard the entire thing.

He tried to make a run for it, but clumsily tripped over a log.

Everyone pointed their guns at him; Ed looked up from his place in the snow, and quickly held up his hands.

"Oh, crud."