Chapter Sixty-Five: Ed Knows

Another scheduled rehearsal for yet another scheduled performance.

Jack and Joel Kabuki were dressed right down to black leather pants and combat boots; bare chested, slick with sweat even before practice had begun. When Sylvia met them on the veranda behind the Van Dahl mansion, she was half-surprised to see each of them holding a samurai sword; her eyebrows lifted with the expression.

Pointing to their extensions, she asked, "Why the fuck do you have those?"

They answered in unison: "They're for the performance."

"Why?"

"For extra flair," Jack said, holding his sword up in response. He twirled it expertly; the motion of the blade cutting through the air made a swish sound, and Sylvia's head tilted to the side in curiosity.

"I guess I should've been more specific. Where the fuck did you get them and do you know how to use it?"

Joel stepped forward: "Benson."

"Paddock's accountant," Jack specified. "He had a couple left over from his hobby days, and he lent them to us."

Sylvia muttered something under her breath that the twins didn't hear, and perhaps it was best that they didn't. Whether they would be allowed to swing their swords around in the fashionable display of wielding power of blade along with destruction of flame was still pending approval as Sylvia distractedly walked past them, sitting down on a bench.

Jack and Joel exchanged understanding glances.

For the past week or so, things had been a little unsettled at the Van Dahl mansion. For firsts, Oswald Cobblepot, Mayor of Gotham and kingpin of the Underworld, had been running amuck between those two hats. The twins knew, too, that the relationship between him, Sylvia, and Ed was a little janky; mainly due to how distant Ed had become over the past few days, and Sylvia didn't understand it any better than they did.

On top of that, Jim Gordon had popped in on occasion: Once to tell her that she'd been right about Jillian Dane and her mechanic boyfriend—the two of them had been selling drugs to kids in the Narrows; Sylvia had given him enough evidence to put the two of them in Black Gate for two years. The second time Jim had come unannounced was to tell her his suspicions about how Mario Falcone was possibly infected with the Tetch Virus.

"He's angry, Jim. You're constantly around Lee, a woman he loves. Not to mention you told Tetch to shoot his fiancée. I mean, put yourself in his shoes: how would you feel if some jackass you didn't truly understand or care for hung around her? Not good at all."

"It's more than that. He's dangerous."

"He's not 'dangerous'. He's just jealous."

"He's also a Falcone."

"I know," Sylvia had said loudly, rolling her eyes. "That seems to be the go-to for all the fucking Falcones. When I fuck up or have a temper tantrum, I'm gonna start saying 'I'm a Gordon'; maybe I can use that as an excuse like the Falcones do when they think owning Gotham or hurting people is a birthright."

That visit didn't help Sylvia in the slightest. All it did was make her brother look like a crazy jealous ex-boyfriend when he admitted to detaining the man on his own wedding day. When she finally told him to cool it and just confess to Lee about his true feelings, Jim left in a huff.

Once Jim had come and gone, Oswald Cobblepot was on the train to Worryville; he didn't keep his concerns discreet when he spoke to Sylvia about Ed's oddly distant behavior. Perhaps at this point in their business relationship, the twins were no longer viewed as a threat to him or his wife so Oswald was either content or complacent to ignore their presence when he confided in her. Sylvia's advice: 'Just act normal and if Ed brings it up, allow the conversation to happen'. Whether this helped the Mayor was unknown to the twins.

If one looked at it in a general perspective, the twins had to admire the amount of pressure that their mistress was under.

She was the First Lady of Gotham; the Paddock Family's successor (with Isaac Paddock's health slowly on the decline); she had the absolute pleasure of the occasional seemingly jealous, over-obsessed detective pop-ins; the bad attitude Charleen would send out when Isaac was never present when she came to visit him; the distance Ed placed between himself and Sylvia; the Mayor's fleeting nerves about everything in general…On top of that, Sylvia had pressure to be the best performer tomorrow night when she and the twins debuted at an opera house the size of Buckingham Palace; not to mention, Alexander Beals (Rooster) was back to becoming more and more smug after his notes on Jillian Dane had been validated.

Yes, it was fair to say that the twins could see Sylvia's mind working ten times faster as she sat on the bench, her head bowed between her hands as she slowly rubbed the back of her neck as though to assuage the tension that the other external factors caused.

She appeared ready to practice with them, to lead the rehearsal in their ultimate prime. Like them, she wore leather pants, and fishnet, fingerless gloves.

With those articles of clothing, Sylvia also wore a skin-tight shirt that hugged every curve, every toned muscle on her body; her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and tied off in a satin scrunchie.

While they didn't wear it for the rehearsal, the plan was to use black eye liner, and a charcoal/purple smokey eye.

At this point, the twins wondered if Sylvia would break under the pressure. They'd noticed a few days ago that she wasn't sleeping for nearly as long; she was the first to rise and by the time they met her on the running trail, she'd already run two miles. And she was also late to turn in, spending most of her free time at Lean on Vee's.

How Penguin hadn't caught onto her sleepless nights and restless days was anything short of a miracle; then again, he was fretting about Edward Nygma, these days.

"Are you sure you want to practice today?" Jack asked, rubbing the back of his own neck although more out of his own nerves than for relief.

They'd learned from Victor Zsasz to scarcely question their mistress' resolve. Aside from the smart remark that they expected would come out to defend her own self-worth, the twins were well-taught to just go along with whatever she wanted. While they hadn't suffered the whole torture-to-obey process as Butch had undergone when he'd been in Victor's clutches, the twins had long ago sworn allegiance and loyalty to Sylvia in such a way that they'd kill children if that was what she desired.

Not that Sylvia would ever want that sort of thing; she literally had helped the GCPD lock two people away for distributing cocaine to the Narrows just because a kid might possibly mistake it for powdered sugar.

While he'd expected a nasty remark, Jack was pleasantly surprised when Sylvia looked up at them; she wore a smile on her face, although it appeared less than congenial.

"Are you tired?" She asked.

"No," Joel said bravely. "We suspect you are."

"I'm always tired, fellas."

"Yeah, but…You know, you don't always have to be 'on' all the time."

Sylvia giggled and it made the twins glance at one another uneasily, only because they rarely ever heard that sound come out of her. It was a genuinely entertained, soft bell sound, and normally that only came out if Oswald was being playful. Hearing it now, the twins saw that not only was she genuinely amused by Joel's observation, but she looked as though she might cry.

"You two are just…" She searched for the word, but couldn't find it. "The performance is tomorrow night."

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "But we know every step."

"Every turn—" Joel chimed in.

"—Every twirl—"

"—Every flip—"

"—And," Jack added quickly. "We know not to throw you in the air too far. Granted, we knew that before but that didn't keep you from getting burned…my bad, by the way, er, our bad."

Joel said apologetically, "Yeah, we really didn't do too good on that part, did we."

Sylvia put her hands on her hips, looking between them as she stood.

"So, what are you doing with those?" She asked, glancing at the swords.

"Benson taught us a few things," the twins responded simultaneously.

"Did he, now?"

"Yeah." They both nodded.

Jack lifted the sword indicatively, "You said if he could come up with a way to add some flair to tell you what that was. We think that adding a bit of swordsmanship will do it."

"So, twirling swords and risking second-degree burns is the final product?" Sylvia asked with a crooked smile. "I remember when you two were just starting out and one of you twisted your ankle because you spun too quickly."

"That was him," Jack said quickly, pointing to his brother.

"Great. Throwing me under the bus is a real nice touch," Joel muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, Liv… We know what we're doing. You've seen us do shit before, and we've not disappointed you yet."

"Yet?" Sylvia repeated, quirking an eyebrow. "Does that mean you're still expecting to disappoint me in the future?"

"I uh…I misspoke."

"Huh. Well, you have a point, regardless."

"So, we can use the swords?" Jack said eagerly. He twirled it again so it made a swish sound, saying, "I gotta tell ya. I think I kinda like using these for more than just performance purposes. Imagine slicing a guy's thigh with this thing."

"Dude," Joel said wholeheartedly as his eyes lit up with mischief, "That would be so sick!"

"I know, right!"

"What if—now stay with me on this—what if some fucking idiot came into the mansion and, like, he was thinking we all had guns but then we come out with a wham! Stabbed in the thigh. And he'd be like 'oh fuck why, no!' And then, bruh, you'd come out of the shadows and bam!" Joel 'stabbed' the sword into the bench and it responded with a harsh thud which was oddly satisfying.

Sylvia watched the twins mimic stabbing an intruder and doing stylish, dramatic movements of slice and dicing. They realized their enthusiasm might be met with some odd reactions so they embarrassingly coughed into their hand and looked at her with nervous smiles.

"So, what uh…I mean, what do you think, Liv? Is that possible or…?"

Sylvia smirked at them.

"You seem really into it," She said sweetly. "And I've never seen you two talk more passionately about anything other than sports and women, so…Sure. Have at it. Just please, don't hurt any animals."

"But we can use them instead of guns?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"That's bomb," Jack said happily.

"So awesome." Joel said, shaking his head with a mischievous grin. "We're going to scare this town shitless."

"If we slice 'em just right, we can make them shit less."

"Ha! Fuck, yeah!"

After that conversation happened, Sylvia insisted that they just go over the general rules and such for the opera house, which only took about twenty minutes. Once that was finished, she dismissed them so they could have a full day of recovery.

That, and Sylvia realized by talking to them that she really needed a day off.

Business per usual.

Oswald sat in the dining room with Ed standing beside him. They were attacking the last few items on the agenda as Mayor and Chief-of-Staff. Naturally, Ed had an answer for everything.

"And have we made any headway on the Waterfront Negotiation?" Oswald asked.

"I have spoken with the new leader; he agreed to our offer, so those photos can go back in the vault."

"They were quite saucy, weren't they?"

Ed chuckled, "I should say they were. Sylvia could be a private investigator if she really wanted to be."

"I think she would find that flattering coming from someone like you."

"That's nice of you to say."

"And how about the uh—"

"Your approval for the new casino should go through tomorrow." Ed answered promptly. "Demolition can begin right away."

"Ed, I cannot tell you how good it is seeing you back to your old self. For a moment," Oswald admitted lightly, "I thought maybe you had some negative feelings about your position here."

"As your Chief-of-Staff?"

"No. Just…at home, in general."

"I admit I was a little distant." Ed said with a small smile. "But as you said, I needed to heal. Anyway, here is just one last signature."

With the document placed in front of him, Ed's frown replaced his smile and Oswald's face mirrored his when he realized what the document represented.

"This is your resignation."

Ed could see that Oswald was startled. It wasn't often that the latter could hide his initial reactions, even if they were meant to be subtle. At least, when he wanted those reactions to be seen.

"Isabella's death has altered things, and I can't continue—"

"No! Ed, I will not let you leave!" His voice shook with something more than just worry, and he stood so quickly; the moment he did, he became instantly calm. "It is not in your best interest. You have to stay busy."

Ed looked at Oswald for a moment, considering him and his words. He clasped his hands in front of him, and said carefully, "How can I say this…We're friends, aren't we?"

"Of course!"

"Since the accident…and that night that we…I never thought that this could happen but I've had the desire to become more than employer-employee. More than friends."

Oswald looked as though he would combust into a fit of joy as he said, "I have been feeling the same! I didn't want to mention it because of all the awfulness about Isabelle—"

"—Isabella—"

"Right!" He said quickly. "And how things have been between us, but one cannot deny love."

And just like that, Ed retracted, gasping as he stepped back a pace. Oswald picked up on it immediately.

"What? Wh-what is it? What's wrong?"

"There's been a misunderstanding."

"But…"

"I was going to propose we become partners. Business partners."

"But that night—"

"That night?"

"When you said you love—"

Ed scowled. He did say he loved the two of them, didn't he? He'd said it so easily.

"I meant it in a platonic way, not romantically." He said carefully. "You and Sylvia alike are…" He tried to convey all the emotions he had between confusion, anger, vengeance, friendship—but nothing came out.

"Ed, I—"

"Excuse me."

Ed left for more than one reason. Oswald had acknowledged and validated what Barbara had said earlier. He did love him. But Sylvia…had she known? Of course, she had known. What did she say when Ed had said he loved them?

"We love you too. Oswald loves you more though. I just like you as a friend."

He clenched his jaw.

She did know. But that didn't mean she killed Isabella. That didn't mean Sylvia wanted all of this to end the way that it did. She wouldn't have wanted to hurt him like that, no matter how much of an influence her husband had on her. That night she made him feel more than just anger, more than just vengeance; that had been the woman he'd known who could move mountains for people she cared about, who would do anything to make him feel better.

Would she have killed Isabella though? No…

Sylvia had become enraged when Ed had framed her own brother—he'd hurt her, lied to her. It didn't seem like her to lie to him, tell him that everything was fine, to sleep with him in order to make him feel more than just his sadness and loneliness for being left alone again. But...

Ed's frowned darkened as these toxic, dangerous thoughts swarmed as though one piranha smelled blood in the pool and now called its friends just as the rancher rang a dinner bell.

Could she have…?

And more importantly, had she?