The harsh screech of the alarm drags Jamie from her slumber; and she shifts, groaning, and tries to sit up and reach to turn it off, only to be restrained by an arm thrown over her waist.
Memory filters through her mind, slowly, of the night before; ensuring Selina was alright with staying home alone before slipping out to visit Osvalda; talking, late into the night, before Jamie had allowed herself to be tempted into the frankly unfairly comfortable bed and drifted off with Osvalda tucked into her side.
The alarm screeches once more, reminding her of the reason she had set it: in order to wake up early enough to get back to her apartment and pack lunch for Selina before she has to catch the bus.
"Osvalda," Jamie murmurs, tugging at the other's arm, which refuses to budge. "Os. Come on, I have to get up."
That elicits an incoherent mumble, and a tightening of the aforementioned limb. Jamie sighs, resigned to having to incrementally crawl out from beneath the other's grasp.
It's not the first time it's happened, so at least she knows, somewhat, what she's doing; and manages to get free from Osvalda's grasp after only five minutes of struggling.
Standing up, she finally turns off the infernal alarm, the silence it leaves behind almost jarring. Changing out of her sleepwear, she folds the shirt and shorts as neatly as she can before tucking them into the drawer Osvalda left space empty in, next to Ed's question mark patterned nightclothes, before she pulls on her shirt and pants from the night before. She'll have to change once she gets back to her apartment, since the clothes she has here are much more loungewear than proper day-clothes, but this'll do for now.
Riffling around in Osvalda's bedside table's drawer for a pad of paper and a pen, she scrawls a quick note for when the other wakes, leaving it next to her phone, before she leans over to press a kiss to the Osvalda's forehead.
Pulling back, she pockets her phone and keys, and makes her way out the front door.
She drove her car the night before, so she makes her way down to the parking lot in the back of the building, unlocking it manually, before taking a moment to check the time, and sighing in relief when she finds she's actually running early.
This early in the morning, traffic isn't much of an issue, so she's ten minutes before schedule when she pulls up in front of her apartment building. Settling back into the seat, she switches the channel—which has gone from playing jazz to the news—to classical rock, and pulls out her phone.
There's a few messages from Ed; complaints about the accuracy of the film she had watched, mostly. Jamie finds a smile twisting at her lips. you and ms. kringle had fun, then?
Ed's reply comes not more than ten seconds later. Kristen's idea of what constitutes a good film is vastly different from my own. And then: But yes. How was your evening?
good, Jamie types out, and then finds herself writing and backspacing ten variations of we missed you in various bluntnesses before she finally deletes it one last time and writes, instead, probably better eyecandy, too.
Hey, Ed protests. No fair . And then: Aren't you supposed to be packing lunch for Selina?
Starting, Jamie checks the time, and curses—ten minutes have somehow sipped by. Hastily shoving the phone into her pocket, she pops open the car door and makes her way up to the apartment.
When she gets to the door, she rifles around in her pockets for the keys for a few moments, before finally locating them, and unlocks the door, pushing it open as gently as she can.
Stepping inside, she does her best to keep her steps light just in case Selina hasn't woken yet—which, as it turns out, is unnecessary, as light is visible underneath the bathroom door, the sound of the shower, somewhat muted, there when she strains her ears.
Making her way into the kitchen, she pulls out Selina's plain, black lunch box, and unzips it before turning to the fridge. Once she has the necessary items out, she puts together a sandwich, sealing it in a ziplock bag, before packing it into the lunch box along with a few packaged snacks, before hunting around for Selina's thermos, she fills it with cold water and ice—a small consideration she knows, despite the other never having said it aloud, means the world to Selina.
There's the sound of footsteps; and then Selina rounds the corner, towelling her hair. "Hey," Jamie greets, zipping up the lunchbox and holding it and the thermos out for Selina.
The girl grabs her backpack from where it's propped against the sofa, putting the lunchbox in the main compartment and the thermos on the side. "How was your evening?" Jamie tries.
Selina shoots her a flat look. "I did a ton of history homework," she says, "so I'll let you draw your own conclusions."
Jamie laughs. "That bad, huh?"
"Everything is either boring, or stupid, or both," Selina complains. "Why do we have to know about the formation of railroads in Gotham?"
"I wouldn't know," Jamie says with a shrug. "There's probably a good reason, though."
Selina heaves a sigh. "I guess. anyway, I should get going—the bus is gonna be here soon." With that, she drops the towel over the back of the sofa, hefts her backpack over her shoulder, and stalks towards, and then out, the door, leaving Jamie to shake her head, a small smile playing at her lips.
After that, she sees to setting the apartment in order—sweeps the floors and wipes down the counters, and does a load of laundry, and changes into a new set of clothes. By the time she's done with it all, it's approaching ten.
Her phone rings with an alarm. meet os for tb negotiations at 10:30.
Right . The negotiation meeting for the newly minted, but startlingly successful, Triple Blade gang. Osvalda had had Ed advise her on when and where to meet them to get them properly integrated into the hierarchy of her empire. Though, perhaps negotiations isn't the correct term—that'd imply that both parties are on equal footing.
Once the date was set, Osvalda had asked Ed and Jamie to accompany her—and, despite the knowledge that Osvalda is bringing along two guards, Jamie still finds herself nervous even just at the thought of the meeting.
Blowing out a sharp breath, Jamie squares her shoulders, practices her best expressionless mask, and grabs her keys, locking the door behind her.
The drive back to osvalda's takes longer, on account of the traffic, and she barely arrives on time, rushing out of the elevator to Osvalda's door.
She's barely knocked when the door swings open, revealing Ed. "Jamie," she says, warmly, in the way that never fails to make Jamie's heart go all fluttery, and gestures for her to come in. "Osvalda's on the couch—she's been worrying herself to bits all morning, and nothing I say seems to assure her thing will go fine. say something to her, will you?"
Stepping inside, Jamie finds, as Ed said, Osvalda sitting ramrod straight on the couch, hands on her lap, murmuring to herself inaudibly; wings at odd angles in an attempt to fit behind her.
Sitting down beside her, Jamie reaches out to gently brush a finger over a few of the secondaries. "Hey," she says.
It has the desired effect; Osvalda blinks, going silent, and turns to Jamie. "Oh," she says. "I didn't realise you had come already."
"I just got here," Jamie says; and then: "I thought Ed was exaggerating how anxious you are."
Osvalda scowls. "As if she hasn't made five pages of contingency plans since she got here," she says; fingers clenching, the tips almost fully shifted into talons.
"The difference," Ed says, sitting down on Jamie's other side, "is that once I had them written out , I stopped worrying. Well, so much, anyway," she amends.
Osvalda's scowl deepens. Sensing an argument brewing, Jamie reaches out, taking one of Osvalda's hand in her own. "Hey," she says, again, "you brought Gotham's criminal classes to heel singlehandedly, remember? What's a single meeting to that?" Raising Osvalda's hand, she presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
There's a long exhalation. "I...you're right," Osvalda admits; raking her free hand through her hair. "It's just—it feels like something's going to happen."
"And if it does, you have Butch and Gabe with us," Ed reminds her.
"Right. Right." Osvalda sighs; and then, quietly: "thank you."
They sit in silence for a few moments, before Ed's phone goes off. Starting for a moment, she takes it out and silences it. "We should probably get going," she says, sounding sheepish.
Jamie nods; releasing Osvalda's hand and rising, the other not far behind her.
Ed drives, and they meet up with Butch and Gabe in front of the building they're meeting the Triple Blade's leader in.
Butch gives her and Ed a once over; expression one of distrust—he had almost gotten into an argument with Osvalda the first time Ed and Jamie visited the nightclub together to meet her—but he schools it admirably quickly. To Osvalda, he says, "What are we expecting, boss?"
"Hopefully? nothing." Osvalda steps into the elevator, the others following after her. "But—they're newcomers, and don't know, or respect, the rules, so be on guard."
Gabe and Butch nod. "Will do, boss."
The elevator dings as they reach the desired floor; and Osvalda exits, her cane tapping the hardwood flooring. Her wings are out, the one folded slightly oddly due to the now-healed break, and in her dark, well-tailored suit, she looks the picture of a confident businesswoman. Which, Jamie reflects, she is—and with good reason.
They come to a stop in front of one of the many doors; and Osvalda falls back, letting Gabe open it and step through, waiting a few moments before she enters. Butch goes next, and the Ed, with Jamie bringing up the rear.
The room is spacious, with a high table in the middle, meant to be stood at. Floor to ceiling windows let in light and look out over the heart of Gotham City, the fields that pick up after the ends of the city limits just visible.
The Triple Blade group hasn't arrived yet, so they take the time to get into position; Osvalda at the table with Ed at one side and Jamie at the other, with Butch and Gabe looking over them from behind.
Osvalda's gaze is fixed firmly ahead, but Ed, Jamie notes, has gotten out one of the small objects she wound up purchasing after accidentally nicking her psychiatrist's—rather than a kinked metal loop, though, this is a cube with various small 'puzzles' on each surface. She's tense—it shows not only in her fidgeting, but also in the tautness of her shoulders, and the way her wings have fluffed out slightly. Jamie longs to reach out and rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, but there's too much distance between them.
The door opens, snapping them all to attention as they watch the Triple Blade contingent enter.
At the front is a tall, gangly man; his wings a burnt red, held in proud display; a scar snaking from his eyebrow, over his cheek, and slicing through his lips. Behind him, two heavyset men, both with shaved heads; and then, finally, a well-muscled woman with a shock of white hair, and a small man with turtledove plumage.
They approach the table and fan out into a formation similar to how Jamie, Ed, Osvalda, Gabe, and Butch are positioned; with the gangly man centre front, the small man and large woman at either side, and the two remaining men behind them.
Osvalda dips her head in greeting. "Mr. Amandava."
"Penguin," Amandava returns; and then, gesturing to Ed, "I'm surprised you allow your seconds to be so distracted."
Ed's head jerks up; her fingers stilling. Osvalda bristles. "My seconds ," she hisses, eyes narrowing, "know when to pay attention, and when it's not necessary to."
Amandava' lip curls. "You think we're of no importance?"
Jamie can practically feel Gabe and Butch tensing behind her; and for a moment, it almost seems like someone is going to violently slash the tension building up to a boil.
Then, Osvalda raises a hand. "My apologies," she says, "I do not intend to imply that. We're here to do business, not trade childish insults. Shall we proceed with the matter at hand?"
A beat; and then he nods. The thickness in the air noticeably subsides.
The next twenty or so minutes are spent going over the terms of conduct and drawing the lines of the Triple Blade's territory more formally, as well as negotiating tithes. Jamie does her best to keep track of everything in her mind, but she's pretty sure some things are eluding her.
Ed, on the other hand, seems riveted; having tucked away the cube and now focussing fully on the conversation between Amandava and Osvalda.
Suddenly, she frowns. "Sorry to interrupt," she says, "but wouldn't that be encroaching onto Nikolai's territory?"
Osvalda blinks; turning it over in her mind. "Well, the Narrows—"
"—were won by Nikolai a few weeks back from the Pikes," Ed reminds her. "The way you've drawn out the Triple Blade's territory boundaries cuts a slice through the centre of them." She reaches forward, tapping the map they've spread out on the table.
Osvalda hums. "No, no, you're right..."
Amandava snarls slightly. "You'd trust a second to dictate boundaries?" he says, scornfully. At his side, his own seconds tense; fingers twitching.
Osvalda frowns; expression dark. "I'd advise you hold your tongue, if you want to keep it," she says.
Amandava's sneers. "Are you threatening me?"
"That depends on whether or not you keep insulting my second."
The man scoffs. "How do you control gotham, if you're this soft?"
Osvalda's eyes narrow; and her lips pull back, teeth bared; shoulders squared, and she takes a few steps back. "We're done here—"
Suddenly, Amandava's arm is raised; the click of the safety being taken off loud in the sudden silence. "You might want to rethink that."
"You little worm— "
"You," Amandava says, "are going to give me the territory I want, or I'm going to put a bullet through your shoulder. The momentum will leave a clean wound, before shattering the glass behind you, and the force of the bullet will leave you falling thirty floors to the pavement below, your crippled wings unable to save you."
Osvalda's gone still as stone; but Jamie can practically feel the seething anger emanating from her. A long beat passes, and she grips her cane, tight, knuckles white.
"No," she says, finally, jutting out her chin. "I have a duty to those beneath me. I refuse to throw that delicate balance into turmoil, and cause Gotham more harm."
A laugh rips from Amandava. "Of all the thing for you to say," he says, sounding bemused, "I didn't expect for you to try and frame yourself as altruistic. "
And then, without fanfare, he shoots.
As predicted, the glass shatters; and Osvalda stumbles backwards and out the window. Before she knows what she's doing, Jamie jolts after her, diving out the window, black wings slipping into existence, tucked tightly against her to streamline her figure.
The ground races towards her; Osvalda just out of her reach, and Jamie lets out a silent snarl, fingers reaching, reaching—
And finally, she manages to grasp Osvalda's shoulders; wings fanning out like an inky cloud to slow their plummet. The added weight of the other drags against them, but she narrows her eyes and beats them as strongly as she can.
It's enough, but only just. They hit the ground with about the force of a ten foot tumble, but it's leagues better than the alternative. Jamie manages to roll and absorb most of the force with her own body, shielding Osvalda as best as she can.
For a few moments, they simply lay there; and then Jamie realises her talons have ripped through Osvalda's blazer and are digging into her flesh; and, hastily, she retracts them; managing to bring them both to standing, though Osvalda has to lean on her, as she dropped her cane before falling.
It's only then that Jamie registers the people who've stopped to stare at them; whispering and pointing; and suddenly, Jamie realised that she's bared her wings in public , and, worse, in front of Osvalda .
Cheeks hot with humiliation, she quickly hides them. "Sorry," she finds herself mumbling.
"For what?" Osvalda asks. "Oh—my suit? Don't worry, it's replaceable. Besides, the giant bloodstain is hardly your fault." She doesn't say anything about Jamie's wings; and she has the sudden, foolish hope that maybe she didn't see them, before she realises the other is probably only refraining from saying anything because they're in public. Osvalda contines. "you should probably call Ed and let her know we're alright." She's gripping Jamie's arm rather tightly, now, and Jamie suspects that she's lost quite a bit of blood—though the bullet seems to have missed any artieries, thankfully.
"Right. Right, yeah." Jamie fumbles through her pockets, glad to find nothing has fallen out, and pulls out her phone, mechanically dialling Ed's number.
She picks up on the first ring; voice tight. "Jamie?"
"We're okay," Jamie assures her.
"Oh thank god. " Ed lets out a sharp exhale. She sounds somewhat shaky as she speaks. "Butch and Gabe dealt with the Triple Blade guys—we'll be down in a few. Can you meet me at the car"
"At the car. Yeah. Sure."
"Great. I'll see you soon."
They make it to the car more or less unhindered by the people around them. Ed's already there when they get there. She's holding osvalda's cane in one hand, clutching it like a lifeline. When she catches sight of Osvalda, her eyes darken. "We're going to need to get you to the hospital," she says, ignoring Osvalda's attempts at protesting. "Butch and Gabe can give you their report later."
The ride to the emergency room is a tense one; not even punctuated by the usual chatter Ed attempts when she feels antsy—a testament to just how shaken she is. Jamie sits in the back, making sure Osvalda doesn't pass out, letting the other lean on her. The breast of Osvalda's jacket is dark and shiny, and there's a ragged tear in the centre of the dark splotch.
The woman who checks them in does so with wide eyes; her gaze flicking back and forth between the computer monitor and Osvalda's pale, drawn face. They take the dark couch in the waiting room, which is just large enough to sit three people.
Ten minutes in, and Osvalda's eyes are starting to get glazed; eyelids fluttering. "Hey," Ed says, sounding half-hysterical, "you're not allowed to die on us."
"'M not dying, " Osvalda mumbles half-heartedly. "'S jus' a shoulder wound."
"With a bullet, " Ed says, somewhat shrilly. Her cube is back out again, and her fingers are flying over it, not meeting either of their gazes.
It occurs, quite suddenly, to Jamie, that Ed might have seen her wings; and breathing feels like shards of glass stabbing into her lungs.
"I'm sorry," Ed says, oblivious to her inner turmoil. "For—ruining things with the Triple Blade guys."
Osvalda frowns slightly. "Ruining—? No, no," she shakes her head. "If they weren't willing to respect you, then they wouldn't have been a good fit, anyway. In fact, I'd say you did me a favour."
Ed hesitates. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
They lapse back into silence; and Jamie does her best to melt into the upholstery. Neither Ed nor Osvalda have said anything to her, and Jamie finds herself dreading what they will say once they do.
Maybe they'll let her down gently. Cite some other failing of hers as the reason instead.
She can hope, at least.
Finally, they're lead deeper into the hospital by a harried looking nurse, who leads them into an austere room, tinged with the scent of antiseptic, and directs Osvalda to sit on the blue-sheeted hospital bed. The nurse gets out a pair of gloves and some gauze and tape, making quick work of bandaging up the wound. Once she's done, she asks a few questions and makes some notes on her clipboard, and tells Osvalda she'll come discharge her as soon as soon as the information is inputted into the system.
At that point, Jamie ducks out of the room with the excuse that she's going to go find Osvalda some water and something to eat. She spends about twenty minutes pacing up and down the halls, mind buzzing, before taking a quick detour to a vending machine and grabbing a bottle of water and some crackers.
When she gets back to room, she hesitates at the door; straining her ears to catch a snatch of the others' conversation.
"—just don't know what to say."
Ed's reply comes almost instantaneously. "Yeah," she says; voice muffled by the door. "Me neither, honestly."
It's not much, but it's enough. Heart tight, Jamie turns around, determined to get away; but as she does so, her elbow snags on the door handle, making it creak open; and she freezes.
Ed's head snaps around from where she's sitting in the chair by the bed, and Jamie cringes slightly. The other's expression is its default flatness, but Jamie can't help but feel like there's an extra layer to it, now. Biting the inside of her cheek, Jamie makes her way inside, setting the water and the crackers on the table by the bed.
Osvalda, laying down against the pillows now, her discarded blazer folded in Ed's lap, pats the empty space beside her. "Sit," she says, more of a command than a request.
Silence reigns; broken only by the crack of the water bottle's seal breaking; and, finally, Jamie swallows. "I can go," she says.
Osvalda's face is carefully neutral. "If you don't want to stay in the hospital with me, I understand," she says, cautiously.
Jamie takes a deep breath. "I should. It would be better, for—for all of us."
"Better?" Ed asks; blinking. "I mean, the hospital isn't great, but you should probably stay until Osvalda's discharged, at least—you probably have a mild concussion, and it would be better to be around trained professionals."
A helpless laugh escapes Jamie's lips against her will, and she speaks without thinking. "A concussion is hardly the problem ."
"Concussions are a very serious issue," Ed admonishes, "they can cause long-term brain damage—"
"Stop dancing around the fact that I'm a damn raven and just tell me to fuck off!" Jamie snaps; and then, realising the harshness of her tone, shrinks against herself.
Osvalda's expression goes through a series of complicated motions, before, finally, she says, "If you expect me to do that—for either of us to do that, you must not think very highly of us."
Jamie sputters. "I don't—that's not—no one just accepts it!"
The other scoffs; inelegant. "Well, you'll just have to get used to us breaking the rules, then," she says; and glares at Jamie as she opens the packet of crackers.
"She's right," Ed says. "If you're expecting us to—to kick you out, or something, well—you're wrong. " Her hands have become tangled in the material of Osvalda's blazer.
Jamie swallows thickly. "Sorry," she finds herself muttering.
Osvalda waves her free hand magnanimously. "Forgiven, on grounds of emotional stress."
Jamie blinks; and finds tears stinging at her eyes; and she wipes harshly at them in an attempt to curb it. "I don't know why I'm crying," she mumbles. "It's stupid—you guys basically just had the best possible response to the situation, and I'm, I'm crying. "
Ed nods. "It's normal," she assures. "A build up of stress and emotions demands a release in some form, and crying just happens to be one of the easiest." It sounds like she's quoting a book. "I read it in one of Doctor Woods' books," she reveals, confirming Jamie's suspicions.
Just then, the nurse enters. "You're free to go," she announces, "just don't forget what I told you about making sure it stays clean."
"Excellent," Osvalda says, gesturing for Ed to hand her her cane—which Ed, in a moment of foresight, had grabbed from where it had fallen onto the floor when Osvalda fell out the window, and brought it along with them. "Now, we've had a trying morning—I think I speak for all of us when I say that a relaxed rest of the day is in order."
Ed nods. "I checked out some films and video games from the library the other day—we can stop by mine and grab them, if you want."
Osvalda smiles. "Jamie?" she asks.
Jamie offers a watery smile of her own in return. "That sounds great."