Chapter 6

As soon as I've cleared the window I'm down on my knees, my head to the ground to avoid inhaling smoke. I shuffle through the hallway, and halfway through, I spot a piece of sky blue cloth in the corner of a door. Pulling it out, I wrap it around my mouth and nose for extra protection. Somewhere else in the apartment, the sound of collapsing wood and screams are heard. It sounds like it's coming from downstairs. I make a beeline for the staircase, leaping off of my knees and running while still keeping my head low. I race down the stairs, and at its foot, I'm greeted with two young boys, one hardly older than a toddler. The eldest is crushed under a pile of debris, while the younger one is scrambling in vain to free his brother, pulling off what little pieces of charred wood he could carry.

I approach the situation carefully, not wanting to scare either of the boys. The oldest notices her, and points so that the younger one turns and sees me too. Not knowing what to say, and wanting to save my breath as it is, I silently stride to the boy and help his brother lift off the wooden boards covering his companion. I notice that both boys are coughing heavily, black smoke practically swirling up from their mouths. I lift the two up and make for the fire escape window. But just as we make it down the hallway, the roof above us comes down, knocking out the floor by the escape. I turn around with the boys, and the first few coughs escape me as by breath becomes wheezy. My chest becomes heavy as I make my way down the stairs. The building creaks and I turn my head up to see the wall above us come crashing down. Holding the two boys under me, I make a run for it, although a large wooden board still hits my back, smashing into two before falling to the ground. The sting on my back from the falling projectile stays with me, compiled with my gasping and coughing until I make it out the door. I release the two boys, and they scurry off into the streets, leaving me to collapse to the ground. But, just as my head is about to connect with the concrete steps, two pale hands catch me by the head. My entire body is then shakingly lifted, as the two hands that can just barely handle my weight attempt to lift me up by my back and knees. I cough up a fair amount of smoke before I manage to speak,

"Put me down...I...I can walk-"

"No, no, you've done enough. Let me carry you." Oswald insists, his voice warm and comforting.

I smile at him, "You're gonna drop me."

"...I'll manage."

I look back at the burning building, "Where are we going anyway?"

He sighs, "Well, Mother does like you, and after what you did, I'm sure she won't have a problem with you staying over for a while."

I want to protest, as much as he thinks his mother likes me, she clearly doesn't. But before I can, he reaches out with one hand to comb his hand through my hair, but this causes his support to slip, and I hit the ground, landing on my posterior. He reaches down to help me up, and I take his hand, smirking, "Told you you'd drop me."

Mrs. Cobblepot walks through the door from her trip to the food line and sees me by the stove,

"You...you're suppose to be gone!"

I turn around, still wearing Mrs. Cobblepot's old dress, combined with a frilly apron, my hair up, and and rag wrapped my head, "I know Mrs. Cobblepot, but you must understand-"

She sniffs the air, "...is that...beans?"

I back away from the stove to reveal a pot burning on the stove, "You see, when Oswald and I got back to my room, the entire motel was aflame and-"

She places her plastic bag full of canned tuna and presides over to the stove, lifting open the pot, "Beans…" she sniffs again, "And...and all this other stuff, tell me young lady, what is this dish?"

"Succotash." I reply cautiously.

She slams the lid back down on the plate, "A savage's dish no doubt. Are you trying to kill my precious son?"

"Mrs. Cobblepot, it's just beans and vegetables." I explain.

She looks out into the living room. With the sun low over the horizon, and the curtains all pulled back, the room has a warm, orange glow, with the record playing quietly in the background. The room itself has been dusted and swept, showcasing what little color the room has, making it seem brighter, more cheerful, and lively.

Mrs. Cobblepot presses her fingers to her lips, "Oh...well...you should close those curtains. Wouldn't want the sunlight damaging the furniture." she walks over, pulling down the faded once-velvet curtains, "And just for future reference, it's Kabelput. Part of a proud heritage, something you clearly are not familiar with."

I clench my fist on the spoon I'm holding. I really want to hit this woman right now.

"Mother, you're home!" Oswald declares, stepping out of his room.

She turns around, and her face lights up, "Oh, Ozzy, thank goodness, I was beginning to worry!" she goes to him, pulling him into a tight hug and kissing him on the forehead.

He smiles brightly, chuckling a little, "What is there to worry about Mother?" he pulls out of her hug, and walks over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, "Wow, that smells wonderful, dear." he places his other hand on my other shoulder, leaning closer so that he can whisper, "You're doing well, she's clearly impressed."

"I told you cleaning the house would work." I whisper back, "Like you said, she's old-fashioned. She wants to see me as wife material."

He raises an eyebrow, "...are you?"

"Hey, just because I can cook and clean doesn't make me any more eligible than any other woman." I point out, "And besides, I've always been an independent type."

He leans in just a little closer, his lips practically touching my cheek, "Let's test that notion, shall we?"

My eyes dart to my left, and see Mrs. Cobblepot, standing in the living room, her arms crossed and her eyes staring daggers, "Stop, you're upsetting your mother. And don't call me 'dear', it's not helping our case."

He slowly backs off, his arms sliding from my shoulders all the way down my arms, lingering on my fingertips before releasing, "Of course…" he smirks teasingly, "My dear."

I sigh in equal annoyance and longing as I return to stirring and Oswald follows his mother into her room. When I'd recovered from that fire, it was already mid-afternoon, and Oswald insisted that I continue to stay at his place, even with his disapproving mother. I was just going to find another motel room, until I'd realized that most of the cash on me was burned in that fire. I need to go to the bank tomorrow morning. But my mind keeps going back to that fire. It sure was a strange coincidence that the motel I was staying in just happened to burn down. I should also call Amanda tomorrow, something's up.

"Dinner's ready!" I call out.

Oswald and his mother both exit her room as the record changes song, and Oswald grins as he sees me set out the plates.

We all sit at the very small fold-out table and chairs that serve as the removable dining table and chairs. Oswald digs in immediately, while I tentatively pick at my food, waiting for Mrs. Cobblepot to pass judgement. She takes a dainty bite, and her eyes light up for a brief second, before returning to her usual thousand-yard stare,

"It's...alright." is her comment.

I keep my head down as I finally start eating, trying to hide a slight smirk of satisfaction. I'd agreed with Oswald that I'd stay one more night if his mother would allow it, and I knew that if I had any chance of that being true, I'd have to impress her, and perhaps I have, just perhaps.

Although, as I scoop up the last of my beans with their rather expensive silverware that looks far from fake, I realize, why am I so determined to impress this woman anyway? Am I really that insecure as to seek approval from an old hag like her? No, I've never tried impressing a parent of a friend before, mostly because I don't have a lot of friends to begin with. Then again, Oswald's no friend either. But if not friend, what is he exactly?

"That has a heavenly meal, Trixie." Oswald compliments, dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin.

I smile, "Thank you. Shall I clear the table?"

We all get off of the table as I collect the plates and utensils. As I collect up the reusable cloth napkins and start up the sink, Oswald approaches me,

"How about after you finish with those dishes, I could change the record and we could dance a little-"

"No dancing tonight Ozzy." Mrs. Cobblepot concludes, "I need to talk to...Trixie alone, please."

Ozzy's confident smile fades, "Of course Mother. I'll be in my room." he crosses to his room and closes the door.

I turn off the sink, and Mrs. Cobblepot turns off the record player. We sit opposite each other on the living room couches. She folds her hands together,

"Don't get me wrong young lady...it's not that I don't like you. I think...I think you're a fine young woman." she explains.

Wow, I did not expect this to come from her. Is this going somewhere I'm not gonna like?

"It's just...my son, you've seen, he's...special, yes?" she continues. "And...and he needs a special woman...someone who will look out for him."

I nod slowly. Sure Oswald's got his quirks, but we're in Gotham, everyone does.

"So, someone like you?" I ask, rather bluntly.

"In a manner of speaking, yes." she concludes. She pauses, her eyes darting from place to place, "You've seen him. He can be elegant and charming but he's...he can be…"

"I can be what, Mother?" he asks, standing in his doorway, "Strange? Awkward? Lonesome? Odd?" he steps forward slowly, his steps stiff and deliberate, "Please, do tell me, I'm dying to hear."
"You...you're unique, my son." she assures his, stroking his cheek, "You're one of a kind."

His expression is stern, and he pulls his cheek away from her, "I can't believe even my own mother would turn against me. You're just like the boys in the schoolyard, aren't you? You find me repulsive, you're ashamed."

"No, Ozzy, of course not-"

"I don't want to hear it." he stops her with the splayed gesture of his hand, "One day, I will prove to you...to the world...that they were wrong to shun me, hide me. And then, they will all pay." he marches into his room and slams the door behind him.

Author's Note:

Songs on the record player (I realize now that FF won't let me post links directly to songs, so I'll just post the title, so then you can easily find these songs on Youtube):

Up Soundtrack - Married Life (first song)

A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight (second song)

Guest: Thanks, I will definitely continue writing as long as there's demand.

Fuchsia Grasshopper: I agree, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree (I notice this is kind of how Oswald's behavior is in the show, and while we haven't seen a lot of Mrs. Cobblepot, I'm assuming she's similar, although I know there's going to be a scene with them together in Monday's episode, and I will be pissed if I got her personality wrong).

Guest: Thank you, I'm trying to keep her abilities realistic (as realistic as someone from the CIA can be), and yes, I felt like I needed a fluffy scene with them finding common ground, and Shakespeare just sort of makes sense for Oswald's character, don't you agree?

Dreamweaver74: Yay, someone who reads both Birds of a Feather and The Doctor Is In, although I'm thinking about diverging from that story (I've already heavily edited the parts I do use from that story to fall in line with this story's tone and continuity).

MugglebornPrincesa: Perhaps...perhaps ;). Sorry, wish I could write more here, but, I don't want to give anything away. Thanks though!

Thanks! :)