Chapter Thirty-Six: The Real Theodore Galavan

Jim sat on the edge of his desk, opposite of Harvey Bullock. The recent polls were in—Galavan was going to win the election by a landslide. It seemed like there was a small lull in the action, something that rarely ever happened in the GCPD, or in Gotham for that matter.

"Looks like you backed the right horse," Harvey said, gesturing to the television. "Do you trust him?"

"He's a politician," said Jim pointedly. "I trust him as far as I can throw him."

"With that arm of yours, probably not far."

"Ha-ha," Jim responded, glancing at him amusedly. "If he gives the GCPD what it needs to get this city under control, he has my vote."

Jim looked at Harvey, the gears in his brain turning at full speed.

"You know," he said, "Selina mentioned that it was Penguin who was behind the Wayne Enterprise fires."

"Yeah, so?"

"First he's going after mayoral candidates, then he's burning buildings down to the ground," said Jim suspiciously. "It doesn't make any sense."

"The guy's an abacus of crazy," Harvey rationalized. "Nothing he does surprises me. But..."

"But what?"

Harvey leaned towards Jim curiously, saying, "What does Liv have to say about any of this?"

"I've not talked to her since we went after Bridgit Pike," Jim admitted. "But she's been acting strange too."

"Well, not to offend you or anything, Jimbo, your sister is a strange girl—all around."

"Stranger than usual," Jim specified, giving him a look. "Sylvia wouldn't talk much—"

"—That's not like her at all," Harvey agreed, nodding.

"That's what I mean," Jim insisted. "And when I tried to get her to talk about the mayoral candidates, she refused to give me any information. Any useful information. And she denied knowing who was setting the fires, claimed to not even know who Bridgit was or the brothers that forced her hand."

"Well, Jim—if Penguin is the person behind all this," said Harvey logically, "maybe you ought to consider that your sister is married to the guy. Whether you accept it or not—she's going to protect that bird of hers, no matter what he does. Murder isn't exactly a turn off for her."

Jim cringed, "Please don't talk about her that way."

"What—I'm saying—she knows what Penguin's capable of. She knows he murdered Fish—threw her off the ledge and into the ocean. Do you see her applying for a divorce? Do you see her stark-raving mad about that social injustice? No. No, you don't." Harvey returned lazily. "Penguin's the poster boy for 'crazy', but I gotta give him credit; he struck gold when he found Sylvia. That girl's loyal to him...even though he can be dirt bag from time to time."

"Stop talking," Jim muttered, rolling his eyes.

Just as he spoke, the lull in the action ceased. Jim and Harvey's attention moved to the figures of District Attorney, Harvey Dent, following newly elected Mayor, Theo Galavan, into the room adjacent to them to discuss such intimate matters. Noticing the dreaded looks, Jim stepped towards Barnes.

"What the hell happened?" Jim questioned.

Barnes looked at him and said apathetically, "Penguin just tried to kill our new Mayor."

If that wasn't a hook….

Jim and Harvey exchanged curious expressions before following the trio inside the room; Barnes closed the door and stood behind his desk, looking at Galavan, who was prompted to explain the recent happenings.

"Mr. Cobblepot knew I was poised to win the election," said Galavan calmly. "And he came to me today, seeking an alliance."

Jim stared at Galavan, and said skeptically, "And you refused..."

"I politely declined, yes," Galavan clarified, smiling modestly. "I want nothing to do with his world of crime; it's what I've been meaning to eradicate after all."

"Was Sylvia present?" asked Harvey.

"Who?" Galavan responded almost immediately.

Jim said coolly, "Sylvia Diana Cobblepot. She may also go by Gordon."

"Ah, your sister," Galavan nodded, smiling that still-modest smile. "No. I don't recall."

"So when you refused," said Harvey skeptically, "he stabbed you in the neck?"

"That seems like a pretty extreme reaction," Jim noted to all in the room. "Even for Penguin."

"From Sylvia," Harvey pointed out, "I could probably expect it. She's a bit of pistol..." (He smirked at Jim) "Isn't she, Jimbo."

Jim rolled his eyes whereas Capt Barnes looked less than amused.

"We have been trying to build a case against Penguin since I got here," said Capt Barnes firmly (ignorant to suspicious looks that both Harvey and Jim were sending Galavan, who exchanged said looks with curious ones of his own). "We assume he is responsible for the earlier attacks on the mayoral candidates..."

"And he just tried to kill me a second time," Galavan emphasized.

"And he's a man that I fully intend to put behind bars." Barnes reassured. "Now, Detective Gordon" (Jim looked at him pointedly) "I don't know whether or not your sister is involved, but if she is..."

"She's an honest woman," Harvey interjected. "If we ask her what's going on with Penguin, she'll probably just hand over the information..."

"I doubt she will," Galavan uttered.

Jim glanced at Galavan—that suspicion was just tugging on his gut, like a monkey jumping on vines.

"Why do you doubt that?" Jim asked defensively. "A moment ago, you couldn't remember who she was."

"Gordon, the man was stabbed in the neck," Barnes reminded. "He can't be expected to remember every name and face we throw at him."

Jim cleared his throat, still trying to see through Galavan as he moved towards Barnes, "Let me talk to her—"

"You may very well have to," Harvey Dent poised, approaching the desk.

"Meaning?" Jim muttered.

Barnes turned to Dent expectantly; the attorney nodded and pulled a well documented sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his jacket.

"An arrest warrant for Oswald Cobblepot as well as search and seizures of all his properties and known associates, including," Dent said calmly, "the interrogation of his spouse, Sylvia Cobblepot 'nee' Gordon."

Barnes previewed the stated names and associates, noting, "That's quite a list. We'll get right on it. Anything else?"

"Yes," said Dent, "In lieu of recent events, Judge Turnball has declared a state of emergency and granted the mayor's office additional powers."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Barnes questioned.

"Meaning," said Galavan, drawing all eyes on him, "the moment I'm sworn in, I am implementing a curfew" (Jim looked at him indignantly) "and I'm ordering your Strike Force to begin door-to-door searches until Mr. Cobblepot is apprehended."

"Hold on," said Jim, "You're talking about martial law?"

Barnes side-stepped the desk, approaching Jim, reasoning, "We're talking about bringing a dangerous fugitive to justice. We will be acting within our legal rights, won't we?"

"Absolutely," Dent vowed.

Barnes turned to Galavan saying, "You have our full support, Sir."

"Thank you, Captain," Galavan said wistfully; they shook hands.

Jim left the room, feeling more burdened by the new Mayor than he'd ever felt with any other candidate. Door-to-door searches would cause a panic within the city….and then, there was also Sylvia…

"Detective Gordon..."

Jim turned when he heard his name, spoken by the very man that was drawing more and more suspicion towards him.

"In the office," said Galavan coolly, "You seemed...hesitant..."

"Cautious," Jim corrected.

"You told me we needed to use every method at our disposal to bring people like Penguin to justice—people who no longer—and probably have never—played by the rules." Galavan reminded. "Desperate times call for strong measures."

"I have no problem going after Penguin with everything we've got," Jim reassured. "But if we start kicking down doors of average citizens, policing through fear, then we are no better than he is. People still need to trust us."

"And they will," Galavan promised. "At the end of the day, people just want to feel safe."

Jim noted that sound of the word. 'Safe'. But was that what Galavan really wanted?

"I thought maybe there was another reason for your hesitation," said Galavan calmly. "Something more."

"Such as?"

"Well, I have no doubt that you're concerned for your sister. She's somehow involved, and I can only imagine how hard it is to sail through these murky waters when they involve someone like her. Not just her—but Penguin would also technically be your 'brother-in-law', as it stands since he and your sister are married." Galavan sympathized, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nothing in the GCPD is completely black and white—there's an awful lot of gray, isn't there? I imagine that she's just blinded by love, right? People like Penguin can be so manipulative...hopefully, it's all just 'wrong place, wrong time'… that sort of thing."

"Yeah," said Jim, his voice hallowing. "Hopefully."

"Just remember, Detective," Galavan said coolly. "You came to me."

Jim watched him leave. That statement alone made his skin crawl, the muscles in his neck to tighten. It was like a tick had burrowed into his skin and while he could somehow dig and light the body on fire, the head was still there...eating him alive. His suspicions were stronger now than they had ever been before.

Was his love and need to protect Sylvia causing his suspicion to grow, though.

Maybe.

But then again, everything seemed too well constructed, too organized to be just a coincidence.

And Galavan was partly correct on one fact: People like Penguin could be manipulative. But that was coming from a man who didn't know his sister very well. Between Sylvia and Oswald, Jim was certain that if one could manipulate the other best, it would be Sylvia. She had Oswald Cobblepot wrapped tightly around her finger—the man would do anything for her...anything…

Perhaps, even try to kill Galavan…? But even if his sister had that much of a pull on Penguin, the man wasn't easily manipulated himself. Not enough to bring heat on himself, at any rate.

Something didn't add up.

But for now, they'd start finding Penguin's associates, find them, find some answers, and gather more information.

But before he started the investigation…

He'd need more coffee.

Harvey sat at his desk; Jim sat in his. Jim was calling people; Harvey was calling his people.

Sylvia would hold some—if not all—the answers he needed but he was reluctant to investigate. A part of him was certain that she was behind some of the attacks on the mayoral candidates, was somehow involved in the fires...and despite what Galavan said, Jim was certain that Sylvia had been present for whenever Penguin had stabbed their newly elected mayor.

Jim knew Sylvia wouldn't say all, tell all, but when it came to protecting and defending Penguin—Sylvia was as honest as she came. Brutal, yes, but honest.

"Boy," sighed Harvey, "I can see those gears burning steam."

"Hmm?"

Harvey smiled knowingly saying, "You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

"How can I not?" Jim returned irritably. "None of this makes sense."

"Well, not to add to the sudoku puzzle going on in that small brain of yours, Jimbo," said Harvey pointedly, "but I've got another piece for ya. Apparently, Butch Gilzean is held up in this booze joint downtown. And guess what? He's started his own crew."

Jim leaned back in his chair, saying, "I guess he and Penguin had a falling out."

"Probably. Let's go check it out."

"Fine by me." Jim agreed, getting to his feet.

"Hey," Lee popped up, smiling widely at Jim. "I heard what happened to our new Mayor. Never a dull moment, is there?"

"No kidding," Jim responded.

"You left your keys in my apartment again," Lee noted, handing the key ring to him.

Jim noticed an extra key.

"What's this one?" He asked, holding it up.

"A key to my apartment," Lee returned casually.

"Oh?"

Harvey cleared his throat, saying, "I'll be in the car."

"Sure," said Jim, nodding. He looked at Lee again. "Um..."

"Relax. It's just a key."

"Oh, I know. I know. Do...you want one for my place?"

"You have a place?" Lee replied, smirking.

"I suppose I'm in yours a lot more."

"I don't mind. I love it. What I don't love," said Lee half-joking, "is hauling ass out of bed at 2 am when you come back from a stakeout smelling like chili dogs."

She leaned in, kissed his nose, and smirked when he looked uncomfortable.

"I love to watch you squirm," Lee teased.

"I do not squirm."

She put her fingers close together, "Little squirm."

Jim watched after her and walked out of the precinct. He got his girlfriend's key to her apartment. New relationships, new problems….new commitments...new worries.

He joined Harvey in the car.

"So, got a key to your girl's apartment," Harvey noticed, smirking at him.

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

"So let's talk about something else."

"Sure."

"Have you spoken to Liv?" Harvey asked as he started the car and drove towards the downtown bar.

"Let's talk about Lee."

"No, no, no, boy-oh," chuckled Harvey. "You only get one free dodge, and you already used it up. So, how come you haven't call Sylvia."

"I honestly don't know."

"Nah, I know you. You do know. For a fact, I know why."

"Then why the hell are you asking me?" Jim questioned irately.

Harvey glanced at his partner, sighing deeply.

"Look, Jim. If anyone knows what's going on with Penguin, it would be her, right?"

"Right."

"And you did tell me that she had reservations about Galavan," said Harvey.

"I didn't think you could listen when you're gorging on hot dogs."

"Hardy-har-har," Harvey sassed back, half-smiling. "I was listening. You said that she didn't like Galavan. Wouldn't tell you why, just that she didn't like him. And I may not be so entitled to know what Little Sister is thinking, but I do know that Sylvia normally has a reason for not liking people."

"I know you know. The entire GCPD knows." Jim pointed out.

"Except Barnes—I've never met a man who clenched his butthole so tightly at the mention of your sister," chuckled Harvey. "Makes me like Sylvia even more."

Harvey parked the car in front of the joint, looking around to see that there weren't many people around. At least they could be discreet beneath the Gotham bridge. He turned off the ignition, looking at Jim with—for once—a sincere expression.

"You don't want to confront her," said Harvey. "Because you don't want to learn what you think you already know."

"You think that's the reason, huh?"

"I know it is."

Jim looked out the window, thinking of her.

"I'm not stupid, okay," said Harvey. "I know you still look at Sylvia like she's your little sister, this girl that won't do anything to anyone, who won't turn on anyone. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she's not as innocent as you think. For all you know, she killed Caulfield, and Randall Hobbs—"

"The witness placed Penguin at the scene for Caulfield's murder," Jim reminded irritably. "It wasn't her."

"Then she might have been responsible for killing Hobbs."

"It could have been Zsasz—"

"Zsasz shoots," Harvey reminded. "Sylvia has the affinity for knives. And if I recall, Hobbs' body was carved like a turkey."

"I'm not worried about her having gone after Hobbs," said Jim darkly.

"So you're not worried that she's probably responsible for one of the candidates' deaths...fine by me," said Harvey, shrugging. "So why is your head in the clouds?"

"Harvey..." Jim muttered.

"What?"

Jim straightened in his seat, looking at him.

"Since Galavan came to town, things have been happening coincidentally. Just before Galavan came to town, Aubrey James went missing. At the massacre at the gala, he turns out to be a hero. And then the killing of all his competitors for the election, it launches his campaign. He becomes mayor—not by a landslide—but by default. And then there's Sylvia's silence..."

"Silence about what?" Harvey asked suspiciously.

"She's being threatened," said Jim darkly. "She told me someone is threatening her."

"Did she say who?"

"No. She was adamant about not telling me," Jim said, shaking his head. "It pisses me off—and she's had ample opportunities to tell me their name."

"Maybe it's Penguin threatening her," Harvey suggested.

"He wouldn't threaten her."

"Jim, the guy's crazy. You've seen what he did to Fish—"

"Penguin didn't love Fish," said Jim coldly. "He loves Sylvia. I hate to admit it, but I've seen them together. They love each other. Penguin wouldn't threaten her. And if he did, Sylvia would deal with it personally. That's just her M.O."

"Then it's someone else," Harvey offered.

"It could be anyone—she's the 'Queen of Gotham'." Jim reminded. "And I'm her brother. Between those two facts, she can have multiple enemies. One, two...fifty—it's astronomical. She'd only give me two facts; it's a male, and he's rich. And they have someone close to her. Someone she feels the need to protect."

"Well, it's not you," Harvey uttered, gesturing to him. "You're right beside me. And it can't be Penguin—he's been operating pretty well...clearly. You and Penguin are her only family."

"Right," Jim agreed. "But there's something I'm not getting. And hitting Galavan just because he says 'no'…that doesn't sound anything like Penguin. All that would get him is heat."

"Well, maybe Galavan made a move on his woman," Harvey said, shrugging. "Galavan gets poised for mayor, meaning he's got the jitters, sees Sylvia—any man would hop on that pony, pardon the expression, Jimbo—tries to make a move while Penguin is fishing for an alliance. Penguin sees Galavan hitting on his woman, and he moves to strike" (Harvey made a stabbing motion with his hand). "Seems like something Penguin would do."

"Galavan couldn't remember who Sylvia was," Jim reminded.

"Yeah..." Harvey uttered slowly. "Or at least, pretended not to know who she was."

Jim nodded.

"Even if all this mayoral crap was planned, it's a crazy plan—even for Gotham standards," Harvey added.

"I could feel better about this whole thing if I knew what Penguin was up to," Jim said quietly. "And how or why Sylvia is intermixed with this whole thing."

"Well, how about we first deal with Gilzean," said Harvey, pointing to the bar. "And after, we both pay a visit to your sister. You've officially piqued my interest."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction," Jim muttered, rolling his eyes.

"We'll need to get our foot in the door first," Harvey reminded. "See if we can't do this nice and civil. We can see if anyone goes through that door, find a way in."

They waited. And sure enough, a pizza guy arrived.

"Well, sing 'hallelujah', and hail the Virgin Mary," Harvey said, grinning widely. "We just got our foot-in."

Jim and Harvey moved out of the car and strolled (because running would be too forward) after the pizza guy. Once the man had placed down the orders, they slid through the door, guns up and aiming straight at Butch and five of his newly recruited cronies.

"Damn!" Butch muttered, looking at the table. "Are you kidding me?"

"I wouldn't!" Harvey warned the surrounding goons as they began to pull out their weapons. "Seriously. I really wouldn't."

"That's a lot of fire power there, Butch," Jim noted, nodding his head to the machine guns leaning against the wall adjacent to him. "Are you expecting some company?"

"Neighborhood ain't what it used to be, Jim," Butch answered calmly.

"Where's Penguin," Jim demanded.

"I don't know."

Harvey chuckled derisively, "You're the boss' lap dog, and you don't know where your owner is?"

"I ain't nobody's lapdog," Butch responded with a sly little smile. "I'm my own man, now."

"Then prove it," said Jim. "Tell us why the hell Penguin went after Galavan."

"I ain't telling you anything. And, unless you have a warrant, I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave." Butch said amusedly.

"Yeah," Jim replied, "Well, you see, our newly elected mayor kinda wants results on this. So if we drag you in, that's where you're going to stay. Got it?"

"I'M HERE FOR GILZEAN!"

Harvey, Butch, and Jim exchanged surprised, then shortly after, knowing glances. All of them recognized that voice. And it belonged to Victor Zsasz.

"Anyone who leaves now," Victor called, "leaves alive. Anyone who stays, dies. You have sixty seconds to do the math!"

"Well, it looks like Victor's still working for Penguin," Harvey muttered. He smirked at Butch: "Guess he's after you, huh?"

Butch glanced at his newly formed associates, inwardly debating their loyalty, which was proven shortly after when they all excused themselves in a hurry.

"Seriously?" Butch sighed exasperatedly.

"No honor amongst scumbags, huh?" Harvey questioned knowingly.

Butch made a point to get up and run himself, but Jim grabbed him, shoved him against the beam pole and cuffed him to it without hesitation.

"What are you doing?" Butch groaned.

Jim shoved a chair aside, squatting in front of Butch.

"Tell us what the hell is going on with Penguin," Jim ordered. "Or we will leave you here for Zsasz."

"You can't do that!" Butch complained.

"Harvey?"

"We can totally do that!" Harvey agreed enthusiastically. He moved over to the window, peeking out to see just how many people Victor had with him these days—there were several.

"Galavan was telling Penguin what to do," Butch complied quickly. "The candidate murders, the fires—it all came down from Galavan."

Jim responded incredulously, "Why the hell was Penguin taking orders?"

"Galavan kidnapped his mother, held her hostage for leverage," Butch answered immediately.

Galavan. He was threatening Sylvia.

Fuck!

"Kidnapped," Jim repeated. "Did Sylvia know?"

"She knew all right," Butch said, nodding vigorously. "Galavan was controlling Penguin with his mom."

"Why wouldn't Sylvia come to the GCPD," Jim demanded angrily.

"Galavan again," Butch replied. "He told her that if the GCPD caught wind of anything, then something awful would happen to Penguin's mother—she couldn't come to you or anyone else."

"That bastard," Harvey cursed, glaring at Butch.

"She was protecting his mother?" Jim muttered.

"I didn't think he would go through with it," Butch breathed, shocked.

"Go through with what?" Jim demanded. "Go THROUGH WITH WHAT!"

Then the bullets started flying—shattering windows, punching holes in the doors, ricocheting off table tops, and shredding the wallpaper of the little seedy bar. Butch ducked—as did Jim and Harvey. Jim threw over a table, and he and his partner hunkered down.

"We're outmanned here big, partner," Harvey groaned.

"Yeah," said Jim. "But not outgunned."

"Oh, hell yes!" Harvey called with glee.

He grabbed one machine gun, and tossed the other to Jim. They clipped in the rounds, and fired off, pelting the glass and what was left of the door and window panes with rounds, exhausting all but the last of the clip. Then there was silence.

"I'll take that as a 'no'!" Victor called from outside. "I'll see you later, Butch!"

"We'd be well matched if Liv was with us," Harvey noted. "She loves shoot-outs. You know I hear she's been taking lessons from Victor—"

"Damn it." Jim cursed.

"What?" Harvey said, then when he turned, he saw that Butch was gone. "Damn it!"

Sylvia stood on the balcony of her club, hands gripping the railing as she cast her eyes down to the dance floor where a number of her regulars and even newer patrons slow danced to the melodic music played by the talented pianist on the stage.

Her thoughts—how conniving her mind worked—would revert back to the days when it was just Oswald and her working the club. Just before Fish was run out of town, how they'd celebrated their soon-to-come victory.

Gertrud had pulled her into an embrace, taught her to dance—even when Sylvia doubted her own ability to sing and dance. First, it had started out as a hidden talent, a small hobby...then with her influence and Oswald's confidence in what was now her current profession, she'd blossomed and bloomed to the professional dancer she was today.

Had Gertrud not taught her to waltz, Sylvia highly doubted she would have found a way to become what she was now.

And knowing this made her feel that much smaller.

Currently, she would give her arm and left leg to bring her back. Sylvia's own mother had gone when she was such a little girl so it always had been herself, Jim, and their father—and occasional Uncle Frank. Aside from Fish Mooney (despite from the bitter ending), Sylvia had never known another mother figure. That was until Oswald had introduced the two of them.

First, she was the 'slut' who had kidnapped her son and entangled him in her 'demon purse'. And then soon after, Sylvia became her lamm.

What love had grown for the woman was nothing more than pain now.

"Vee-Vee..."

Sylvia turned her head slightly, registering that Marcy was talking to her.

Marcy wore black clothes, mirroring their Mother (Sylvia); half her hair was a deep shade of blood red, while the other was just as black as her clothes. Beside her, as always, was Freda, who carried in her hand a fresh cup of Starbucks. The two had actually spoken together, commonly speaking as one person instead of the individuals that they were.

"Yes?" Sylvia returned, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Why are you sad?" Marcy asked.

"Is it the music?" Freda suggested.

"Maybe it's—"

"I'm sad," said Sylvia quietly, "because I've lost someone very dear to me."

"Do you want us to fight someone?" Marcy offered. "I'll kick a man in his craw hole—I'll do it, you know I'd do it! I'd do it for you, Vee-Vee."

"Don't do anything," Sylvia advised darkly. "You were given your instructions from Mr. Bell, remember?"

"Yeah, Vee-Vee," Freda recalled. "You told us to stay put. But if someone's messing with you—it's that Tabitha Galavan bitch—I bet...We can—"

"Just don't do anything!" Sylvia snapped.

They recoiled at her harsh tone.

"Just go downstairs, get some ice cream," Sylvia said, softening her voice. "I just need to think for a moment."

"Sure thing, Mrs. P, whatever you say," Freda responded, nodding adamantly. She took Marcy's hand and they walked down the stairs together, speaking in low tones.

"Sylvia."

She turned now to Tiffany who approached her with two martinis. She offered one to her.

"No thanks," said Sylvia.

"You look like you need it."

"I want it, don't get me wrong. But alcohol is a depressant, and I'm already feeling depressed as it is. Drink it for me, would you?" Sylvia said, smiling gratefully at her. But the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Something happened tonight, didn't it?" Tiffany said knowingly. "What happened? You can tell me."

"Galavan." Sylvia answered. "Galavan is what happened tonight."

"That thing you told us—where we had to do whatever Galavan said—is it over?"

"It's not," said Sylvia. "It's just begun."

"What does that mean?"

Sylvia turned to her completely.

"Tiff, you've been a good friend, an excellent co-partner." Sylvia told her. "But...I..."

"NO BODY MOVE! STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!"

Sylvia and Tiffany leaned over the banister to see Harvey Bullock and Jim Gordon trudging through the dance floor; patrons moved to the side, scowling or looking in their direction in fear. Following them were two rascals of the Strike Force, but it looked as though they'd come with their minimum forces.

Sylvia's heart raced—she'd thought they were about to get robbed or something.

Jim confronted Henry, who looked as though he was ready to fend off an army, despite the fact he was puny compared to him.

"Where's your boss," Harvey ordered.

Henry pointed up to the balcony.

Tiffany looked at Sylvia worriedly.

"Go downstairs," Sylvia requested.

"Will you be okay?" Tiffany whispered.

"I will be fine. Do as I say, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

Tiffany curtsied then left per Sylvia's request. Tiffany passed Harvey and Jim on the way down; the rascals of the Strike Force remained downstairs. Sylvia noticed this and turned to both of the detectives, looking at them discernibly.

"Congratulations," said Sylvia dully. "You just gave about twenty of my Regulars heart-attacks."

"Stop the banter," Harvey said. "We need to talk."

"Fine." Sylvia returned. She gestured for them to follow her into the office. She closed the door. "Should I be concerned with the rabble downstairs?"

"The Strike Force is there to protect you," Jim informed.

"I don't need protection."

"Oh, girl," Harvey chuckled, "I'm pretty sure you do."

"No." Sylvia argued. "I'm pretty sure I don't."

"Cut the crap, Vee," Jim insisted as he sat across from her. "We know everything."

"Do you?" Sylvia replied nonchalantly. "Why is the sky blue instead of yellow?"

"Okay," Harvey submitted. "Maybe not everything."

Sylvia allowed herself a small smile, looking at them.

"There's a warrant for Oswald Cobblepot's arrest," Jim informed calmly. "And there will be a search and seizure of all his territories as well as known associates for his whereabouts."

Sylvia shrugged casually, saying, "That sounds like a police matter. It's not exactly any of my business what you've all been instructed to do."

"Well, it is your business, Little Sister," Harvey insisted, leaning forward, "because you are on the warrant."

"Search then," said Sylvia, holding her hands out to them. "Tip over tables, ransack my office."

"We're not doing that," Jim said as Harvey stood to take her up on her offer.

"The hell we aren't," said Harvey. "You may not like it, Jimbo, but we've got orders."

"Since when did you start following orders?" Jim asked him.

After a beat, Harvey chuckled, sitting back down: "You know what, Jim. You've got a point."

Sylvia glanced between them suspiciously.

"We know Galavan put Penguin up to killing the mayoral candidates," Jim said calmly. "We know Galavan ordered the Wayne Enterprise buildings to be taken down. And we just talked to Butch—"

"'Talked' is a funny word to describe it," said Harvey amusedly.

"—And he said that Galavan kidnapped your mother-in-law," said Jim strongly, searching her eyes for confirmation. "We need to know if that's true."

Sylvia leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

"Vee," Jim pleaded, "We need to know just what we are up against."

"What I say won't matter," Sylvia responded heatedly, her eyes suddenly lit, her calm mask disappearing. "My word against the mayor's—you've got nothing when it comes down to it. The only thing these people" (She gestured outside of the club) "will see is that I'm the Penguin's wife. What Galavan has done to my family will not matter."

"Vee," Jim began.

Sylvia shook her head saying, "He's a monster, Jimmy. A fucking monster. But he's got his T's crossed and all of fucking I's dotted. You can't win against him. Not the legal way."

"Then tell us what we need to know," Harvey insisted. "Tell us what Galavan has done. We're cops—we can put this guy away for good—"

"I don't want him behind bars!" Sylvia snapped, getting to her feet. "I want him dead! What's he done to me is unforgivable and something as small as putting him in jail will not bring back what I have lost!"

"Butch said he kidnapped your mother-in-law," Harvey said, his voice sincere and helpful. "Did he do more than just that? Was Butch telling the truth!"

"That and more," Sylvia resounded, her eyes started tearing up. "He killed her, Jim. He fucking killed her—she died in Oswald's arms, and Butch—he fucking held me at gun point. He wouldn't let me go to him—he wouldn't let me comfort my own fucking husband!"

Jim and Harvey stared at her, eyes wide.

Sure enough, Sylvia was crying in front of them.

A shock to Harvey, considering he'd never even see her so much as shed a tear. But Jim hadn't seen her cry in a long time.

"Do you know where Penguin is hiding?" Harvey asked.

"No," Sylvia lied, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"You're lying," Harvey noticed.

"What if I am?" Sylvia threatened. "Are you going to bring me in for questioning?"

"No," said Harvey. "I just know you're lying. You've covering for him. You know exactly where he is. But you won't give him up."

Sylvia said nothing.

"I'm done talking to you," said Sylvia, pointing at Harvey. "You want information, you take me in. Otherwise, I'm done talking."

She turned to Jim.

"You want to know who you're up against, James?" Sylvia breathed hatefully. "That mayor of ours is just as sick as the rest of us—sicker. Him and his sister alike. You want to make this right—you kill him, on sight."

"I can't do that," Jim told her helplessly. "We don't have proof."

"You can't," Sylvia reinforced.

"You're threatening our mayor?" Harvey asked delicately. "We can bring you in for that."

"I never threatened his life," said Sylvia coldly. "Do I want him dead? Of course I do. The writer who's been fucking up my favorite TV show also probably deserves to die, but I don't count that as a threat on their life either."

"Galavan is the person who's been threatening you," Jim said pointedly. "Isn't he?"

"Like I said, Jim—my word doesn't matter," said Sylvia heatedly. "It doesn't matter what I say—I'm on the fucking warrant, I'm the one who is being interrogated, and investigated. What I say has no weight. So even I did tell you that Galavan was threatening me, no one—and I do mean no one—would believe me."

"We're wasting time," Harvey said, nodding. "No one is going to take the word of a Kingpin's wife."

Sylvia gestured to Harvey, looking at Jim, saying, "There. See?"

"Tell the Strike Force to search what they need to search," Jim told Harvey.

"Jim, they're not going to find anything." Harvey said.

"Well, they don't know that," Jim replied, inclining his head to the Strike Force downstairs.

"Okay." Harvey sighed. "Have it your way."

He stood and walked out of the office wordlessly. Sylvia turned to Jim.

"I want to make this right," Jim said quietly. "I'm sorry for what you've been through, Vee. Really, I am."

"You've no idea what I've lost," said Sylvia, her voice breaking. "You have no idea what I've been subjected to. So how dare you stand there and apologize!"

"Vee, you could have told me it was Galavan—"

"—He had Gertrud, James! He had her locked up like some fucking dog—"

"—And you're angry," Jim continued, rounding the desk and approaching her.

"I'm pissed off," Sylvia agreed. "I'm furious!"

"And you want him dead," Jim said knowingly.

"You have no idea!" Sylvia sobbed, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Penguin's going to go after him, isn't he," Jim said.

"Why are you asking me questions when you already know the answers to them!" Sylvia said helplessly. "He killed Gertrud, Jim! He put a knife in her back, and both Oz and I watched her fucking die. She died in his arms."

"Sylvia, I know what you want to do, but it's murder—"

"Murder is too good for that fucking monster," Sylvia growled.

"So help me put him away," Jim begged.

He held her in his arms, trying to get her to move, but Sylvia pushed him away.

"I told you, James. I don't want him behind bars! I want him to fucking rot! He killed my family—he destroyed it! And I want nothing more than to see him die!" Sylvia shouted furiously. "You want to help—you'd put a bullet in his head and leave it at that!"

"I can't do that!" Jim growled.

"He threatened my existence!" Sylvia bellowed. "He put a gun to my head and tried to kidnap me, James. If Oswald hadn't fucking put a knife in his neck, I'd be in the same fucking situation—maybe worse! You're trying to protect a fucking monster, James! And if that's still your only goal after I've told you everything I know, then fuck you!"

She threw a lamp at him. Jim dodged it.

"Whoa!" Harvey jumped into the office, throwing the door open. "Jimbo—are you still okay in here?"

Jim glanced at his partner before turning to Sylvia whose chest was heaving up and down, her face soaking wet from sweat and tears.

"Yeah," said Jim breathlessly.

"Get anything?"

"No." Jim said, shaking his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

Sylvia watched them go down the stairs and she leaned over the banister, shouting, "YOU'RE PROTECTING A MONSTER, JAMES! A FUCKING MONSTER!"

Jim glanced up at the railing before pushing the Strike Force and Harvey out the door.