Chapter Eight: Oswald, Alive

Author's Note: Here's another chapter. I'll be so relieved not to have two classes this semester. Never again! Anyway, thank you for your patience. Love you all!


Oswald knew not where he awoke; his surroundings were unfamiliar. The first person he saw was a woman sitting on the edge of the bed in which he'd been lying when he opened his eyes.

He saw her red hair and instantly assumed it was—

"Sylvia?"

"Good guess, but wrong." The woman smiled brightly, watching him with both interest and a half-attempt of caution. "I've not seen Lark in months. Not her fault, though. I don't even think she knows I'm alive."

Oswald startled as his vision cleared. He sat up with a grimace, looking at her uncertainly.

"Who are you? Where am I?" He asked, guarded.

"Wow, you ask a lot of questions. I'm Ivy Pepper." She said with a laugh. "Duh, are you stupid?"

He looked her over again, trying to remember her. Doing so, there was no point in arguing that this 'Ivy Pepper' was pretty in every variation of the word. Almond-shaped brown eyes, red hair, curves that any man would favor, and she seemed approachable enough. However, Oswald didn't recognize her.

He frowned and said confusedly, "Have we met?"

"Kind of."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, we've met unofficially—I mean, I was at your party when you were celebrating being Mayor and all, but you and I never talked. I mostly talked to Lark before then. You've been here a few weeks…you were kinda out of it." Ivy offered generously. She gestured to him with a generality: "You were in the river, I pulled you out."

"I was in the river?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember?"

Oswald considered her words and reflected on the last conversation he had with anyone. And it came to him. Edward Nygma had taken him to the pier…


Ed hadn't spared a moment in taking Oswald back to the Sirens to be interrogated. As far as Barbara was concerned, Oswald lost the empire so there wasn't anything else to surrender.

Barbara Kean and Tabitha Galavan gave Ed the 'go head', handing over Penguin as the deal seemed to imply. There, Oswald was guided towards the edge of the docks like a lamb to slaughter: his wrists were bound with rope; Ed stalked behind him with a gun, levelled at the waist.

"Stop." Ed ordered.

Oswald did as he was told.

"Turn around."

He turned around, putting the sea behind him.

"What are you planning on doing, Ed?" He asked warily.

"You've done this plenty of times in the past," Ed stated snidely. "I'm surprised you even have to think to ask that. All the clues are in front of you: You're bound by the wrists. You're standing at the pier. I have a gun in my hand. I think you know exactly where this is going."

"Ed, I know you're upset about—"

"—Upset?" Ed breathed angrily. He lifted the gun, poking it against Oswald's shoulder. "I am more than just upset. You took Isabella away from me."

"She didn't understand you—"

"—She understood me and loved me. And I loved her." Ed glared at him. "You have Sylvia, Oswald. You know what it's like to have someone who loves you, who is devoted to you, who would do anything and everything for you: You need only ask. That's what I had with Isabella and you took that away from me!"

Oswald frowned, not out of anger but out of sadness. Ed couldn't understand how Isabella had tied him around her finger, played with him like a marionette by its strings.

"Ed, I love you." Oswald uttered desperately. "I would do anything for you. I have."

"You can't claim to love someone and then kill the person they love—that's not how it works. You planned Isabella's death from the beginning—"

"—Because she was using you—"

"—Having Sylvia wasn't enough!" Ed growled, ignoring his words. The gun shook in his hand.

Oswald sighed sadly, but he earnestly attempted to reason.

"Isabella was a con artist. She was using you. She was a spy for Aubrey James, trying to use you to get to me, and you were falling into her trap—"

"—Stop making excuses—"

"It's the truth!" Oswald shouted, glaring at him. "You were being used, Ed. I admit it—I didn't want her around because I was jealous, but Sylvia was the one who figured out that Isabella was a spy planted on you."

Ed scowled and shook his head: "It's bad enough that you took Isabella away from me. But then you had to get Sylvia involved in this. She murdered her because you told her to. The amount of influence you have on her—it's insane."

He took a breath and said shakily, "Sylvia may have been the cause of Isabella's death, but you gave the order. I can say without a doubt that she—like me—will be far better off without you." Ed spoke as if he were trying to gather the courage to do what he felt had to be done.

Oswald couldn't stop the tears from falling down his face nor for his heart to stop racing frantically as Ed placed the gun against him. The barrel was light, but it felt like a cannon when it was held by the man with whom Oswald irrevocably had fallen in love.

"When I met you," He said pointedly, "you were a jittery, nervous loser. You were nothing. I created Edward Nygma! And I am the only one in this world that truly sees you as you are…"—His voice broke—"Who you still can become. You can't do this!"

Ed looked at him as if he were lost.

"Ed, are you listening to me!"

"I'm listening," He whispered quietly.

"Say something."

Reluctantly, Ed looked at him with resolve and said sadly, "I loved her, Oswald. And you killed her."

All Oswald truly remembered was the bright, searing pain from the bullet piercing his gut, and falling into the vast open sea. The cold water was barely a prick of pain compared to his heartbreak.


"Hey, dude, are you okay?"

Ivy's casual tone brought Oswald back to the present; his eyelids fluttered as if he'd forgotten where he was until he recalled his earlier conversation with the woman who still sat on his bed, appearing concerned by his sudden silence.

"You look like you're going to throw up," She commented cautiously. "Do you need, like, a bucket or something?"

Oswald suddenly cracked a grin: "I just remembered…there's someone I need to kill."

"Oh. Well, I guess that comes later."

He stared at her and said slowly, "After what?"

"You have to eat first. You need your strength."

"I'm fine."

"You're 'fine' after getting shot? You'd have to be some weird bionic dude, if that was the case." Ivy said with a child-like giggle.

"Trust me. It's not the first time I've been shot. I know what I can handle by now." Oswald scoffed.

He tried to get out of bed but in the instant he did, the room started spinning and quickly sat down before anything embarrassing could happen to him.

Ivy smiled expectantly, saying, "Sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Oswald sighed in defeat.

As if that was his answer, she beamed happily before leaving the room to make the both of them some lunch.

He sat back against the headboard of the bed, contemplating her motives.

He'd been unconscious in this woman's greenhouse for presumably a long time. If she'd wanted to kill him, she would have done it when he was at his most vulnerable. At the very least, he could get something in his stomach and then figure out this odd character's ulterior motive for tending to his wounds. After all, Ed had a similar background for doing the same: Was Ivy looking for a life coach to guide her on the path of villainy as well, Oswald wondered cynically.


Some silence passed between them. As it did, Ivy sat on the edge of the bed as she had done prior to his awakening while Oswald sat with his legs criss-crossed, drinking a cup of tea. He wasn't happy to be in this woman's presence; he wasn't sure whether she could be trusted—she had saved his life. Was that enough to trust her?

"Do you…live here?" Oswald asked coolly, glancing arbitrarily at the greenhouse-like surroundings. If Sylvia were here, she'd find this amount of foliage suffocating.

"Yep."

"I'm guessing the resale value won in your favor."

Ivy smiled at his sarcasm and said slyly, "Nah, it was pretty much free." With a wink, she added, "Five finger discount."

Oswald nodded. Well, it appeared that he was in the right company. Ivy certainly didn't strike him as someone with the level of intellect he frequently surrounded himself with but she had a quaint humor that made him feel a little more at ease.

"I'm not sure if Lark would appreciate all my friends, though."

Oswald queried, "'Friends'?"

"My plants." She gestured to them lovingly. "She isn't a fan of plants, I know, but at least she respects those of us who do."

"I'm sorry. I suppose I should have asked this earlier. How do you know her?"

"Who? You mean Lark?"

"Obviously."

Ivy smiled widely, saying, "She was my friend. Back when I was smaller…literally." She gave Oswald a playful nudge. "I ran into one of Strange's humanoid weirdos, got a growth spurt. And wham bam, thank you, Sam, here I am."

Oswald sighed in annoyance, "I mean, how did you become her friend? Are you still friends? She never mentioned your name."

Ivy shrugged, unabashed, "I was her spy when I was a kid. Spies are secretive. Of course, she wouldn't mention me. She's smart like that."

Oswald's lips parted in realization. He sat his cup of tea on the end table beside him, pointing at her.

Mystified, he uttered, "You're the orphan she was trying to find."

Ivy smiled again: this time, she seemed almost flattered, if not blessed to hear how Sylvia had tried to make the effort to seek her out.

"I suppose I was. You know she was a bit of a mentor. Her and my friend, Selina. Anyway, long story short, she gave me this necklace with this paper rose inside of it. A kind of 'job well done' after I told her about Delilah."

Oswald grimaced. Delilah was a direct accomplice to Demetri. They might as well had been one in the same. Considering Ivy had played a part in taking down Delilah, Oswald felt a little more relaxed.

Ivy wasn't his enemy, at least. She wasn't quite his friend as she seemed to favor Sylvia's companionship (even if it was one from the past), but Oswald didn't have to sleep with one eye open for now. That alone was a comfort.

"I'm guessing she doesn't know that I'm alive?" Ivy asked.

"No. But I guess that makes two of us." Oswald uttered. He looked at Ivy uncertainly. "Have you seen her?"

"Not since your victory party after being mayor. She didn't recognize me then either, but she was friendly."

"I meant recently."

"Can't say I have. I've only heard rumors."

"What have you heard?"

Ivy shrugged, "Last I heard, Barbara Kean bought her club, basically pushed her out of everything. Something about Lark shutting herself inside your guys' mansion. I don't really know. I try to stay out of politics."

Oswald frowned deeply. He suspected that would be Sylvia's reaction to hearing of his death. Was she okay? Was she eating? Were the twins and Victor taking care of her?

"There's been talk about Aubrey James being Mayor again, if you can believe it," said Ivy, disgusted.

Oswald chuckled half-heartedly, "I thought you said you stayed out of politics."

"I do, but that man is stupid. Even I can see that."

"I think everyone can see that."

"I guess he's got someone fooled then—like a higher up person." Ivy brushed a hand through her hair, adding, "They're probably getting tricked or something for making him Mayor for a second time."

"No," Oswald grumbled as he slowly stood to his feet, scooting out of bed. "Electing him the first time was the result of a trick. Doing the same thing again—it's idiocy. Anyway, the city runs itself."

Ivy looked at him with an eyebrow raised: "So now what?"

"You have to go out and find Sylvia."

"And then what?"

Oswald stared at her before he said cynically, "Deliver a singing telegram."

"Really?"

"No! Tell her I'm alive—what do you think!"

Ivy winced, "Okay! Geez. But I thought you had to go kill someone?"

"I do. But that can wait. Actually…Change of plans." Oswald pointed at her. "Go find Gabe first. When you come back, then we'll contact Sylvia. But find Gabe first."

"Who's Gabe?"

"He's a moron. But he's a loyal moron."

Ivy sighed, standing: "What about Lark?"

"People think I'm dead." Oswald said pointedly. "Element of surprise is on my side. It's easier to build an army in plain sight if no one thinks to look for you."

Ivy frowned.

She said indignantly, "You're just going to let Lark think you're dead?"

Oswald said defensively, "Only temporarily."

"What if she does something insane because you're gone? What if she goes after the guy that killed you?"

Oswald sighed irritably, "Would you just go find Gabe?"

Ivy gestured to him, leading him. He stared at her incredulously.

"Please?" She offered.

Oswald forced a tight smile: "Please."

Ivy gave him a nod, saying, "Okay." And walked away.

Oswald rolled his eyes. He'd be grateful to have Sylvia around for more than one reason.