Chapter Twelve: The Talk
Author's Note: Thank you, SilverIce523, for your reviews. I cry every time I read them!
He hadn't seen her since that night when Jerome and his followers were painting the town with chaos and crime. That had been weeks. There was no doubt in his mind that something had changed in Sylvia since he'd left her paralyzed on the couch. The first thing he recognized as Sylvia stood to slowly pace in front of him was this inexplicable power that radiated off her.
Of course, Sylvia always had this aura about her. Ed had become enchanted by it when they'd first met—back when he was still a small, reserved, quiet forensic analyst; Jim was the rookie that had just been transferred from a different and possibly smoother unit; and Sylvia was making impromptu visits, better known as that wily, feisty little sister of his.
She was, for the most part, unassuming. And she regarded him with respect that was hardest to find, particularly when he was working in the GCPD with a bunch of alpha males who'd rather bruise a face or an arm before asking questions first—Jim Gordon, included.
That same power, even when she wasn't in charge of Gotham's Underworld, had been more concealed but Ed felt it each time he spoke to her. There was confidence, modesty, and self-doubt of the same. Ed always wondered what it felt like being on the other end of this confidence—what her enemies felt when they encountered her astounding brutality and unstoppable force.
Now, he knew.
And the punching hadn't even started.
Sylvia's power that radiated off her like the heat from a sun was much stronger this time around. Ed made sure to say little as possible both out of anticipation and self-preservation.
"I know why you did it," She finally spoke, turning to him.
Ed looked at her calmly, but he didn't ask what she meant specifically. He already knew. And he waited to see where she was going with this conversation.
"You were heartbroken, betrayed. It's not like I don't understand why you killed him." Sylvia said pointedly, sitting on the edge of the table across from him, much in the same fashion that Victor Zsasz had been sitting before he'd been dismissed.
"But paralyzing me was a low blow. That was a coward's move."
Ed flinched at her disapproval. It was curious to him why that stung. Why did he still care about whether she approved of his actions or not? The goal was to avenge the dead, not to make her proud.
"Unlike you, I plan on getting your side of things—you know, both sides of the story—before I start taking things you value, including your life," Sylvia said starkly, gesturing to him. "So, if there's something you want to say that you think might spare your life, I'd start coughing it up right about now. You don't deserve it, but I figured it's the right thing to do."
Ed sat with one leg crossed over the other. His hands folded in his lap. He calculated the odds of him making it out of this situation alive: they didn't fall in his favor.
"I paralyzed you," Ed said slowly, "because I knew you would overpower me."
She scoffed, "You had Barbara, Tabitha, Butch—"
"—All of whom would and have been easily bested by you."
Sylvia's facial expression only changed with a subtle flicker of satisfaction. Otherwise, she looked disappointed.
"And I was right," He added. "I heard what happened at the Sirens, when you returned after your strange 24-hour disappearance." He smiled when Sylvia stared at him, surprised. "Rumor has it that you locked yourself in the mansion for weeks and then, suddenly, you left without a trace."
"You've been keeping tabs on me?" She questioned almost irritably.
"You can't be surprised. You tend to bounce back from grief fast—I figured you would be on my case eventually. I obviously didn't think you'd bounce back so quickly, otherwise I would have made better preparations." He tilted his head to the side briefly. "How did you figure out where I was?"
"You and Barbara are working a little too closely for my taste."
"She told you I was here?"
"No. Tabitha did."
"…She did."
"Yep. And for that, I promised that I would make your death nice and slow." Sylvia said with a small smile. "Your death has been the first thing that she and I have actually agreed on. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that she killed Gertrud, I wouldn't mind being her friend. Interesting that you decided to take up residence at Barbara's old gallery, or maybe not that surprising when you think about it. You're not exactly an Avant Garde—not in the typical artistic sense."
"I'm sure we can talk about art another time."
"I wouldn't count on it." Her dark, morbid tone sent chills down his spine.
Ed stood while Sylvia watched him carefully.
Pride swelled inside him when he realized that she didn't underestimate him like others had. Long before now, she already presumed that he was dangerous. He wasn't the typical brute, armed with guns and muscle, and yet, she still considered him a threat.
"Over these many years, you've proven to be capable of outnumbering anyone, even if you're just by yourself," said Ed coolly. "I've watched you train. And I've watched you fight. You were every bit capable of taking any of us down before we could utter a single word."
"And your preference was to paralyze me, was that it? Or was that Barbara's? If it's the latter, I didn't do enough damage to make us even."
"Paralysis wasn't a choice."
"There were other options."
"It was the only option. You would've killed all of us in less than a minute."
Sylvia half-smiled: "You sound like you admire that."
"I did admire you. The both of you." He paused. "I still do."
"So much for admiration," She hissed. "After you paralyzed me, you took him out of the mansion so you could kill him and left me at the mercy of any intruder who would walk in and do fuck all."
"If you recall, I did lock the door on my way out."
"The windows are breakable. And I was left to think of the worst."
"Better than the alternative. I wasn't going to do it in front of you. Despite what you and Oswald did, I didn't want you to suffer. I didn't want—"
Sylvia threw the bowler hat at his head. He stumbled on his words.
"Oh, I see. That was you taking pity on me?" Sylvia said cynically.
"Yes. It was."
"Why pity? I was just as guilty of killing Isabella as he was. And I am now, more than ever, in my own right to kill you."
"You were only obeying his order—"
"—You killed the love of my life—"
"—but I didn't ever think you would—"
"—And you expected me to be grateful—"
"Yes! You should have been grateful! I killed the person responsible for her murder, not the person who actually carried it out!" Ed shouted, stepping forward, gesticulating violently to the entrance of the gallery. "You were the one who killed her! You told me yourself! You pushed her off the bridge and into traffic! You killed her in the worst imaginable way and after, you and I…we…"
Sylvia's eyes hardened, her bottom lip slightly trembled at his anger as she watched him try to finish the sentence, but he shook where he stood. He tried to gather his composure as he lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes.
She said softly, "You act like you're angry at me because I killed Isabella. I don't think that's the reason."
"No, I'm angry at Oswald for ordering you to kill her. He brought you into the middle of it—"
"You act like he's the only one involved until you realize that you're angry at me too."
"I wasn't—I'm not angry at you."
"Then why the fuck did you leave me for dead in my own home?" Sylvia snarled.
"What are you talking about? You were left alive." Ed said indignantly. "No harm came to you."
"Jerome and his merry men were running Gotham to the ground," Sylvia said curtly. "They could have broken into the mansion at any point. I was paralyzed for 36 hours. What do you think any of them might've done once they realized I couldn't move or speak?"
"Did they…?" Ed asked, dreading the answer. He grimaced at the worst-case scenario.
"No one showed, if that's what you're asking." She responded coldly.
"Your people—"
"I was left alone in that mansion the entire time I was paralyzed, Ed. I didn't know who would walk through my door at any time of day or night. And if I am being honest, I didn't care. The only person I cared about was gone, and I was more than happy to die than live without him."
Ed bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't expect to feel empathy. He didn't want to. He didn't think he would when he saw her again, but now, here it was, unwillingly blooming in his chest along with the guilt for hurting his friend.
"As for my people," Sylvia continued half-heartedly. "Gabe appears to have fled the fortress. Pretty heartbroken about that." (She sounded more annoyed than betrayed.) "Jack and Joel Kabuki came back after Victor let them know that I was very much alive. Benson's back too."
Ed was silent as he sat down in the chair, he'd previously occupied. He looked torn.
"Why did you kill her?" He finally asked. "She did nothing to you. Nothing at all."
"Not until she tried to kill me."
"That's a lie. She wasn't a violent person."
"That you know of."
"She wasn't!"
"Oh, come on!" Sylvia snapped, glaring at him. "I still cannot believe you bought her façade."
"She wasn't faking anything. What we had—"
"Oh, Moses, wake up and smell the roses!"
"She was perfect for me!"
"SHE WASN'T REAL!" Sylvia shouted, smacking the table. "God! For being the smartest man in the world, you can be really dumb."
Ed stared at her.
"Her entire presence was a little too coincidental, don't you think?"
"Love has no timetable." Ed insisted. "It came at a time when—"
"Oh, for fuck sake, don't give me that 'Love-came-and-I-wasn't-expecting-it' bull shit. You had love—with Oswald, but you're so deep in the closet because of what your dad was like! You were too afraid to admit it so you dove head-first into the first woman that made you feel what you didn't think you could have with Oswald or me!"
Ed opened his mouth to argue but he was at a loss for words. Was she right? Or wasn't she?
"As smart as you are, I'm just annoyed that you didn't see what was happening. And you still don't."
He pursed his lips together furiously.
"Didn't you think something was fucking weird when she popped up out of nowhere?" She said harshly. "You and Oswald won the mayoral campaign by a landslide. You two made Aubrey James and his fucking Chief-of-Staff look like imbeciles and you put them on display! Suddenly, when Oswald is getting his hooks into projects and people, you just happen to meet this person who just happens to look like Kristen Kringle, who just happens to be into riddles like you, who likes organizing things like you, and likes green as much as you do."
Sylvia dramatically inclined her hands up as if this were the most revolutionary thing to transpire since Lay's potato chips came out with the barbecue flavor.
"Oh my god," She said sarcastically, "Total besties! Soul mates, for the win!" She dropped her hands and added coldly, "Please."
"We were perfect for each other. We were compatible in every way!"
"That blonde little frumpy was no more compatible to your endeavors and your interests than Dougherty was to Kristen. Whereas Dougherty was just flat out abusive and an asshole, Isabella was worse."
"She never laid a hand on me!" Ed said angrily.
"She didn't have to! That's what made her façade so perfect! Why needlessly put your hands on someone when you can manipulate them from the inside out!"
He rolled his eyes, saying callously, "You're going to use the 'She was a spy' thing on me too?"
Sylvia stared at him, startled: "You know?"
"I'm aware of the allegations against her. Oswald told me that Isabella was a spy for Aubrey James, that James sought to gain the upper hand by using her to spy on us so he could sabotage and take the political office for himself."
"And you thought Oswald wasn't telling the truth?"
"I told him so." Ed said coldly, leaning forward so his elbows rested flatly on his knees. "Right before I shot him."
He quickly stood and used the chair as a barrier between Sylvia and himself when her eyes suddenly became black and filled with a red liquid that had a stark resemblance to blood.
Little black veins made their presence known.
"Oh my god…" Ed whispered.
"You killed him even after he told you the real reason behind Isabella's death?" Sylvia said dangerously.
"I thought he was trying to save his own skin. A man facing death will say anything to save himself—you know that! He killed the woman I loved, he deserved—"
She grabbed the chair and hit him over the head with it. He was surprised not to have been knocked unconscious. Groaning, he looked up from his back, holding out his hands as she shouted at him from above.
"Isabella was a liar, a cheat, a parasite planted on you. She used you! Oswald was the only person to see you truly as you were, and you killed him all because of a one-night stand!"
"She was everything to me!"
"And Oswald was everything to ME!"
Ed stumbled back into another table, hearing her distorted voice as if five of her spoke all at once. He held up his hands, half-hoping that his show of terror and submission may calm her. In some ways, it did. Her eyes resorted back to their bright blue, but the odd black veins remained, almost alive.
"I trusted you, Ed." She spoke as if she was in pain. "You were the last person I thought would go out of your way to hurt me. I thought we had an understanding. Framing my brother, putting him in prison, being the reason for losing his child was not enough and then you do this to me! Why the fuck are you like this!"
"You aren't the only one who was betrayed, Sylvia! You could have told me what Isabella was." Ed said defensively.
"You wouldn't have believed either of us."
"And you led me to believe Tabitha and Butch killed her and you just let me torture them!"
"You seemed happy enough to do it and, by the way, I don't see you giving your sincere apology for doing it," Sylvia reminded cynically. "I wanted to say something, but Oswald said that it would hurt you more if you found out that she was an imposter than if she were gone. So, I agreed."
"So, you both planned to get rid of her," Ed stated, his anger swelling.
"I planned for her to leave Gotham. I gave her the choice."
Breathlessly, Ed shook his head, taking off his glasses before he put them back on as if this might cure the ailment of both betrayal and pain.
"Wait a minute, wait—You said you gave her a choice, but you shot her and pushed her over the bridge!"
"Alex was the one that shot her."
"Are you serious!"
"He did it to keep me from falling. If he hadn't intervened, I'd have been down in the wreckage because of your lunatic girlfriend!"
Edward snapped his fingers and grunted, "Alex. Of course!"
"She tried to kill me." Sylvia said indignantly. "So, I killed her. Let the punishment fit the fucking crime!"
"And you didn't think to tell me that either?" He questioned icily.
"You wouldn't have believed me."
"And you expect me to believe you now? Without evidence, without proof of this, of her—"
"I don't care if you believe me now or not. This isn't about proving my innocence, yours, hers, or Oswald's. The point is that we are all guilty, just for different reasons. You needed to know what really happened that night, to fully understand why I did what I did and why Oswald did what he did! It's only fair."
Ed let out a frustrated sigh of exasperation, "Fine! Fine…Let's say that I do believe you. Let's say you and Oswald went about it in the way that wasn't sneaky or back-handed."
He held up his hands and dropped them: "Why, knowing I was grieving, did you sleep with me?"
"You asked to be spared your pain. And I accommodated. And, after, said you did feel better. I only gave you what you were asking for!"
"By letting me sleep with the enemy," Ed chastised.
"You were hurting!"
"Because of what you and Oswald did!"
"I was feeling guilty about what happened, okay! And you were hurting and asking me to get rid of your pain. I didn't see any other way around it! And it was better than telling you that Isabella was a fucking spy—Oswald was right. That would have destroyed you!"
"You seemed happy enough to get rid her. Get her out of the way so Oswald could be happy again—that seems to be your purpose in this so-called marriage of yours."
"This wasn't exactly a win-win situation, Ed. I wasn't happy about any of this. The guilt was gnawing away at me."
"I have trouble believing that. Why the hell would you feel guilty about any of this? You're a born killer: seeing as it comes so easy to you. And your brother."
"How dare you lodge general insults at me as if you aren't a murderer yourself!"
"Well, I don't enjoy it, at least."
"You are so wrong about that, Riddler," Sylvia spat the title with enough venom to kill an elephant, "Killing may come easy to me, but I don't kill just anyone. And I certainly don't do it for some theatrical display of intelligence or ethos unlike a certain someone!"
"I only kill when someone comes against me first!"
"Oh yeah? What about that killing spree of yours? I'm sure those intellects and innovators weren't too intimidating; I doubt any of them hurt you. At least, not as badly as you hurt them."
"They called themselves intellectuals but couldn't answer a single riddle. They didn't deserve their title."
"And that's why they deserved to die?"
"Anyone that I've ever killed has deserved it."
Sylvia said snidely, "You know, Oswald may have been selfish from time to time and he may not have always been the best husband, but at least he never laid a hand on me and he didn't, you know, kill me. I wonder if she were here right now if Kristen would be able to say the same."
"You know I didn't mean to hurt her, and you know that was an accident!"
"Whatever you have to say to yourself to help you sleep at night, I guess."
"You're one to talk! You tell yourself you did it for me but we both know you killed Isabella for selfish reasons—let that one sink in, why don't you!"
"Ugh! How many times—I said I tried to let her live!" Sylvia growled. "It's not my fault your one-night stand had an insta-kill mode!"
"She wasn't a one-night stand!"
"She was a fling, at best!"
"I know you're angry I killed Oswald, but if you ask me, he's the one you should be angry at! He's manipulated you every step of the way, and you don't even see it! He only cared about his own happiness!" Ed snapped. "If anyone's looked out for your best interest, it has been me! Not him!"
He let out a painful grunt when her hand closed around his throat and lifted him off the floor.
The blood-like appearance returned to her eyes.
"Boy, the next words out of your mouth better be a fucking apology or you're going to wish it had been." Sylvia snarled.
"He ordered you to kill Isabella and manipulated you to think it was for my sake, but he was the one who was jealous—didn't want to do the dirty work himself so he tasked you with cleaning up this idiotic love triangle we have between us," Ed said quickly. "The power he has over you is insane!"
She threw him into the tables that were cluttered against the wall. He shuffled off the surface, getting to his feet and placed the tables between them.
"Don't you see it!" He shouted. "Everyone else does, except you! Even Oswald saw it. You will do anything for him—killing innocent people, not excluded—so long as it makes him happy. But I ask: Would he do the same for you!"
She shoved the tables out of the way and they impressively crumbled and shattered against the wall, leaving dents after the impact. Ed winced at her newfound strength.
"It's clear you've never understood what he and I have! You never could."
"If he told you to get rid of Jim, I bet you would! He killed—augh!"
Ed gasped, looking up from the ground. She landed a punch square to his mouth and it hurt. Did she just break his jaw?
"He killed Alex in front of you!" Ed continued although that violent gesture took the wind from his sails. "Can he say he did that out of love, for love? And—despite that—you went back to him. Doesn't that sound a little insane to you!"
"You put him in that situation!" Sylvia screamed in his face, hovering over him. "You told Alex to call me 'pigeon'! You made sure Oswald would hear him say it, and you made Oswald kill Alex! You're the one responsible for Alex's death, not him!"
"See!" Ed bellowed. "That!" He pointed at her. "There it is again! You are constantly defending him! He didn't have to kill Isabella for me to know that he needed to go!" He rolled over to his side, and felt the floor vibrate when her hand dented the tile.
He scampered away from her and dodged a chair that was thrown his way.
"He was destroying both of our lives, and—shit! —Given the chance, I would do it again!"
Ed leapt out of the line of fire when a table catapulted his way. He landed on his back and, panting, he quickly moved to his feet before another table was hurled at him. He stumbled, wincing when he felt a force grab his jacket; he grunted when his back was shoved against the wall and a hand wrapped around his throat for a second time. This time, she didn't let go.
His eyes widened to see that Sylvia's eyes were barely any color besides black. Even the reddened sclera was dark maroon. Her mouth was set in a snarl. Her cheeks slightly wet from a stream of tears that slowly rolled down her chin.
"If you're going to kill me, do it," Ed panted when he felt her hand tighten, making it harder to breathe, "but you have to know that I never meant to hurt you—I had…I had no choice…!"
Just when he thought he might choke to death, when his vision nearly collapsed, her hand slackened suddenly. He'd only realized that she'd lifted him up off his feet when he fell into a heap, holding his throat as he coughed and sputtered.
He grimaced, looking up at her. She stared down at him and even in the blackness of her eyes, he saw her sadness.
"You stand there and tell me that your intention was to never harm me, but your actions speak the loudest." She uttered dryly. "What you took from me is something I will never find again. I know you felt something towards Isabella. I'd like to think 'eye for an eye' is fitting, but I know there's not a day that will ever come to pass where I won't want to kill you for it."
"Sylvia…Listen to me…"
Sylvia reached behind her back and pulled out a switch blade.
"Oswald was in love with you, Ed. And as deep in the closet as you are, I know you felt the same way about him." Her eyes moved as if she searched his. "And you still do. Oswald dying killed a part of me just as much as killing Oswald destroyed a part of you."
She dropped to her knees, grabbed him so she pinned him to the floor; Her legs straddling him so his couldn't move; her knees trapping his hands to either side of him.
Being held down like this was scary. Ed was intimidated, truly, by her.
"Sylvia, wait, wait!"
"I killed Isabella. You killed Oswald. I kill you. And the virus that has given me life will eventually drive me insane and cause me to do something that will eventually get me killed." Sylvia said tenderly.
The blade's edge daintily pressed against Ed's neck.
"Circle of life."
"Sylvia, wait, please, you don't have to do this!"
"Oh, Ed. I'd like to think I don't. But where we stand—or sit," Sylvia poked her head indicatively, "the voice in my head is telling me I don't have a choice. Those voices can be annoying but they're right—you above all people should understand that."
"Sylvia, wait, no, no, no—"
The door burst open. Victor strode in, holding his phone.
"Liv, you have to see this!"
"DID I NOT SAY TO INTERRUPT ONLY IF IT IS IMPORTANT!"
She turned her head and glared at him. Victor didn't have much of a reaction, seeing Sylvia's fully blackened eyes and veins.
Instead, he whistled low, saying, "I'd say it's important. It's from Benson."
She held up a hand, gesturing him to come forward.
Victor handed her the phone and looked down at the compromising position in which Ed was currently placed.
"How're you doing, buddy?" He asked amusedly.
"I've been better." Ed grumbled.
Sylvia flipped open the phone. The text message from Benson was simple: 'Current auction price: $50,000 as of now'. Attached to the text which seemingly had been distributed to strictly the mainland gangs (and none of Gotham's Underworld, to include Barbara Kean) were three pictures, all of Oswald Cobblepot, who looked more than disgruntled but very much alive.
"Location?" Sylvia demanded.
"It's in the message." Victor answered promptly.
"Address."
"In the message."
"How far away?"
"An hour if you follow the road rules, ten if—"
Sylvia stood and handed the blade to Victor, who took it with relish and watched her readily leave the gallery.
"Hey, what do you want to do about him?" Victor called after her.
She didn't provide an answer. Considering the circumstances, he guessed that Ed was off the hook until Oswald Cobblepot decided from which hook he'd be hanging next.
Ed let out a deep sigh of relief, letting his head thud against the tile floor.
"It's a shame Barbara let this place go on a foreclosure," Victor uttered, idly peering around at his surroundings. "Nice digs."
"Where did Sylvia go?"
"To sort out her priorities. I guess you got bumped." He nudged Ed's face with the tip of his boot. "Guess you lucked out this time. If I were you, though, I'd make yourself barely a blip on her radar for the next few weeks."
Victor left the gallery, humming the lyrics to Funky Town.
