Chapter 19

I wake up in my apartment wanting nothing more than to get out, get away. I look to my right and see my clothes from last night, as well as Ed's letter, sitting atop a newly bought arm chair next to my bed. I get up, and fill up the the large tub in the bathroom. Stripping out of my night clothes, I dive into the full tub, letting myself sink into the water. If anything, I need to clean myself, I don't feel clean. I shudder as the memory of Oswald's hands on me creep into my mind. In those moments, his touch no longer felt warm or strangely comforting. It was controlling, hoggish. I could imagine his green-eyed expression leering at me as he lifted my skirt and held me in a most unnatural way.

There's no one I could go to talk about this, is there? Amanda would be entirely unsympathetic, and I don't know Ann or Morgan well enough to feel comfortable going to them. I could reply to Ed's letter...Ed! I certainly couldn't tell him, at least not for now, but he's someone, right? I get out of the tub and drain the water just as there's a knock at the door. My heart jumps...is that who I think it is?

"Trixie, I know you're in there...open up please."

I pull on my clothes but not so much as look toward the door. There's no way I'm letting him in, much less letting him plead his case. I tread into my room and look out at the closed window leading out to the fire escape. Thank god for minimal safety standards.

The front door rattles and shakes, "I know how to jimi these doors, I can get in one way or another."

"That really isn't helping your case." I call out from my room, as I run to the window and begin to push it open.

The metal of the window creaks against the rust on its surface, creating a distinct, and loud noise.

"The fire escape? Oh, we're going to play that kind of game, huh?" his voice echoes through the thin walls, "Alright, you take one step onto that rickety old thing, I'll come chase you," he chuckles, his mid-toned voice dipping lower than usual, "it's a little like cat and mouse, isn't it?"

Putting my shoes on, I lift myself up onto the windowsill, place a single foot on the fire escape, and stomp that foot repeatedly onto the fire escape, pounding my foot so hard it shakes a little. Oswald's scrambling feet rush down the stairs, and as soon as his footsteps begin to fade, I jump off of the windowsill and shut the window, running for the front door. I fling it open, but shut it carefully as to not make any noise. I skid down the stairs and on the next flight, the door marked with the number nine is wide open, and Oswald is running into his mother's room to use to fire escape. Mrs. Cobblepot is in the living room,

"Oswald my dear, the slut's not worth it!" she cries.

She turns to the door and sees me standing by the stairs. Our eyes make contact for a brief moment. Oswald looks up and down the fire escape, finding nothing. Mrs. Cobblepot, while definitely seeing me, says nothing, and I'm allowed to escape down the stairs.

I reach the street and make a mad dash out into the early morning streets of Gotham. Funny thing, when the streets are safer than within your own home.

"Words." I answer, as Ed and I walk along Finger street to Ed's favorite cafe.

"Is that your answer to my latest riddle?" he responds, smiling knowingly.

I nod, and his smile broadens, showcasing his perfectly straight teeth, "You are...correct. Although I have to admit, that one was rather simplistic, I've been on a time crunch as of late."

"Oh? Why so, Mr. GCPD?"

He hunches over, as if to tell me a secret, "I've been given an award."

I look up in astonishment, "About time they give you something Ed, congrats!"

He whips out a cream envelope with a wax stamp from his jacket pocket, presenting it in front of me, his other arm behind his back, "The Whippleburn Prize, an annual prize honoring Augustus P. Whippleburn," opens the envelope and unfolds the letter inside, "and the judges chose mypaper to receive his high honor, and they're even holding a continental breakfast in my honor, can you imagine?"

"Well, I know you can't get enough of your muffins." I smile.

He folds the letter back into the envelope, carefully resealing it as if it were being sent, "I have a proposal for you: I'd like you to attend this breakfast with me."

I raise an eyebrow, "Me? Why not invite that girl you mentioned in your letter?"

Ed stops in his tracks, pressing his hand against his chest, "Kr-Kristen?" he shakes his head, "Why heaven's no Natalie, we've hardly spoken…"

I lean against a nearby street pole, "So? It'd be a great first date."

"A d-d-d-ate!?" he stutters.

I roll my head from one side to the other, "Well, not officially a date, it's more the gesture itself that makes it a date more than anything. It'll just be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other better, and it'll be a way for her to see you in a positive light."

"Well...alright, I'll test your hypothesis. But if you're wrong, you owe me restitution." Ed wagers.

"What do you mean by 'restitution'?"

He winks, and I know exactly what he means. I sigh,

"Fine...we'll go to the Tech Museum."

"Yes!" Ed throws a lanky fist into the air.

We pass by the window of a brand new Italian restaurant with the words: "Bamonte's Restaurant" in red cursive.

"I don't remember this place being here. Is it new?" I ask him, peering through the window of the dark and empty restaurant.

Ed nods, "It just opened recently, I presume Italian cuisine is back in vogue."

"Was it ever out?" I inquire.

I notice at the bottom of the restaurant name a subheading: "A Sal Maroni Establishment". I scrunch my brows in suspicion. The only people who'd proudly display their names like that are the Waynes or a crime boss. And I'd assume this guy is the latter.

As we pick up a box of pastries from the bakery, Ed's cell phone goes off. He takes a look at it,

"Ah, that's my alarm, I'm due at work soon."

I glance at the oldened, decayed clock on the bakery wall, "Hang on...you don't start work for at least a couple more hours."

"Oh, I always arrive at work at least an hour early. Helps me get organized and prepared for the day," he explains cheerfully, but then he realizes something, "wait...how do you know when I start work? I haven't disclosed that information to you yet."

Out of the pastry box, I pull out a cranberry muffin and hand it to Ed, "Remember? I use to want to be a police officer back in high school. You know, before reality struck me."

"Ah," he realizes, tilting his head up and pointing up an index finger, "but it could be a reality, they dropped the minimum height requirements quite a while ago. Trust me, the precincts are desperate for officers. You could be-"

"Thanks Ed, but that was a dream I dumped a long time ago." I admit. After spending five years in the CIA, I don't think being a cop would bring the same level of...challenge.

"Well, I must be off, it's always a pleasure conversing with you Natalie-" before he can leave I push the box of uneaten pastries towards him.

I smile, "Take them, I know how you love cranberry."

He grins, his wide, outstretched smile creasing his sharp jaw. He takes the box and...and pulls me into a hug.

"Ed...how very uncharacteristic of you." I mumble in astonishment.

He pats me on the shoulder, "Something about you this morning...you're not well, are you Natalie? I felt I needed to do something to get your endorphins going."

I laugh, before briefly hugging him again, "Dawe, thanks Ed. You do have a heart."

"Of course I have a heart!" he gasps jokingly, "How else could my blood circulate?"

Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter was a little...talky. I just needed to write something lighter after that last one.

Fuchsia Grasshopper: In my personal opinion, he would've totally gone through with it, while he doesn't like Gilzean, he still sees him as an authority figure right now. And also, Oswald (at least my interpretation, it's hard to say with the show's) has a lot of unresolved sexual frustration pent up inside him, most of it coming from long before Natalie/Trixie came into the picture.

Kitten: Lol, although I personally wouldn't want them to (because then I'd have to write it), if you want them to there's plenty of mature OswaldxOC fanfiction out there that's much more well done than whatever I'd come up with. Personally I'd recommend regular reviewer Fuchsia Grasshopper's "The Devil's Walk", although full disclosure, I haven't read a lot of it since I know my parents would disapprove ;)

Sketch1997: Thanks, and yes, Ozzy is in trouble!

HellsButterfly13: Thank goodness, I know for example in film, any depiction of sexual assault gets an automatic NC-17, and the subject can be touchy. I never meant to depict the scene in a "sexy" manner, although knowing the internet, to quote Yahtzee Croshaw, "I'm not getting off to it but I know someone out there is", and that's fine by me

Guest: Thank you, you're awesome for reading! :)

Thanks! :)