Chapter 25

Mrs. Cobblepot and I laugh over the stale biscuits and tea she's set up for us. She shows me a picture of Oswald in his high school years, his hair combed back and his protruding nose even more noticeable than it is now.

"He has always been so innocent, but he's very clever," she places down the photo, "oh, I should've known this would happen. He's...he's not prepared for the world. I should've waited longer but, but we needed the money…"

"Mrs. Kabelput, if I may say so, you would've never been ready to let your son go. It just...happens, it's part of growing up. All you can do is...let it happen, and trust his judgement. You raised him well, now it's time to let him make his own decisions."

She stares down at her teacup, and slowly begins nodding, "Thank you, young lady. You're….you're not as bad, as I'd thought."

I take a sip of the weak tea in my cup, "Mrs. Kabelput, I've been wondering, why the confusion over your last name? Oswald and everyone else seems to pronounce it Cobblepot."

"The name was changed, when I was young, just before the persecutions started. I hated it, so when we came here, I said, why still use it? But...poor Ozzy was made fun of for it at school. Those bullies! They, they changed him…"

There's a knocking at the door, and Mrs. Cobblepot gets up and looks through the spyhole.

"Huh! Police officers, looks like," she turns around, "you best be leaving. I'll handle these smups."

I nod, smiling. Placing my cup in the sink, I scurry into Oswald's room to reach the fire escape. It's true, it's easier to reach it from Mrs. Cobblepot's room, but that's not why I'm here.

Closing the door, I make my way to his closet. Sliding in between the piano, I pull out a small flashlight and begin searching within the depths of his secret dwelling area. If he hid it anywhere, it'd be here.

"Good morning ma'am. I'm Detective Allen, and this is my partner Detective Montoya," a deep voice greets from the other room.

Shining my flashlight towards the floor, I immediately spot a large duffel bag shoved into the corner. That wasn't there last time. I get down on my knees and carefully unzip the bag, revealing large bundles of neatly stacked money. So Morgan was telling the truth, he didn't steal any of that money, Oswald did. But, why frame Morgan? Was he afraid of getting caught? Or did he have another motive?

"Never, never in his life my son is away this long. Nightclubs is his business, such hours. But always, he comes home to his mother," Mrs. Cobblepot gushes in the family room.

I roll my eyes as I zip up the bag. Even for her, that's a little much. Why are the cops investigating so soon anyway? It doesn't seem like they've found a body...maybe...maybe these are the cops that Oswald snitched to. Out of everyone, they'd know what's going on.

"Mrs. Cobblepot-"

"Kabelput."

Allen chuckles, "...Mrs. Kabelput, do you know anyone who might want to do your son harm?"

I'm just about to leave the room when my flashlight shines upon a new picture hanging from the wall. Unlike the others, this one features a man and a woman, and it's not a drawing or a sketch. Instead, it appears to be made of paper and melted wax. A black paper cutout of a man and a woman standing under an umbrella serving as the focus while they're surrounded by melting wax in vivid black and blue colors, sort of simulating rain. The man undoubtedly looks like Oswald, with his mangled hair and pointed shoes, and the woman...looks like me. She has my long hair, the low heels I often wear, and my less-than-desirable short, wide figure. No wonder Oswald liked me, I must've made him feel tall and slim.

"No," Mrs. Cobblepot replies to Detective Allen, "I-I would feel it, a mother feels these things," she pauses momentarily,

"It's a woman. Some painted slut has him in her clutch."

I smile, at least she's retelling my story to the cops, although I highly doubt they believe her. A reason I know most girls wouldn't be into Oswald is because...well, because I was into him. I have a weird taste in guys.

Inching out of the closet space, I silently escape the Cobblepot's apartment and scale back up to mine. The minute I reach the top, there's a knocking at my door. Have the cops come to question me as well?

I open the door to reveal Ed, as smiley as ever, holding a small stack of papers.

"Hey Ed, what're you doing here, shouldn't you be at work, and...what's this?" I ask, gesturing to the papers.

Ed walks in, moving in a sort of shuffling motion, "I have your updated resume, as well as family documentation, and recommendations from both a Mr. Simon Fay and a Ms. Amanda Waller," he holds out the papers to me, "everything you'll need to apply for a job at the precinct."

I smile, "Ed, this is great but, I did say I'm still considering it, right?"

"But...this is...just for...you know. Your consideration."

I pick up the stack of papers and start flipping through them, "How did you get your hands on this anyway?"

"I made some calls, did some research. You know, I knew I should've tried the CIA first, not the FBI." His tone softens, becoming almost sensual, as his eyes droop, "You always said you wanted to see the world."

I jerk my head up. I'm not sure how to feel about his illegal invasion of my privacy, but, fond memories flood back of me wanting to become a police officer. That is...before I knew how corrupt the job was, especially in Gotham. Perhaps I could arrange my scheduling hours so that I would only have to work during the day, so I could still hold my job at Fish Mooney's. My only concern is...what if there's a crossover? What if someone I arrest recognizes me? But, it would mean not one, but two ways to find candidates for Amanda, and it was my dream for the longest time…

I put down the stack of papers, and Ed places his hand on them, leaning in, his fingers finding mine, "Natalie...it would mean...so much to me if you accept this proposition. I, I miss the days of us being a team."

I look down at the floor, "Ed…"

Oswald lies down on his back in the mobile home that serves as his temporary living quarters. He looks up at his diagram of Gotham's power structure hanging up on the wall. Everything fit perfectly...everything was in place, until the Waynes were killed. Now there's a power vacuum, a hole in the system. And he will be the one to fill it. Not Fish, or Maroni, but Oswald Cobblepot. People will tremble in fear to hear that name, and those who don't tremble will adore it out of fear. Including Trixie...Trixie.

He reaches up and grasps the empty air. If only he were a hand upon that cheek...

He shakes himself out of his delusion. She's nothing more than a pawn in his game. And yet, he imagines them together, evenings of fine dining and opera, always concluded with a passionate night between sheets. She would find him charming and humorous, and in her darkest moments, she'd come running to him, confiding in him her deepest secrets.

He knows of course, that his fantasy could never be fully realized, but, with Trixie, he comes pretty close. He has to admit, he enjoys her company. He begins to imagine her glowing, sincere praise, her arms wrapped around him, the genuine concern in her voice that she tries to toss off with a smirk. He licks his lips, and quietly chuckles to himself. It'd be an awful waste if he has to kill her. There's so much that they could accomplish together...so much.

The man in the closet starts struggling, snapping him back to reality. He's not quite sure what to do with him, he's already had to knock him out a couple of times, but he keeps waking up. This is becoming a problem, what if someone hears him?

He gets up and waddles over to the open closet door, twisting his lips as he stares down the sobbing, dejected college boy, who's been tied up and gagged. His preppy looks and nice hair remind Oswald of those boys from Gotham Academy, the ones who picked on him, called him Penguin...just like him and his friend had.

He smiles maliciously, "Forgive me but, do you have a cell phone I could borrow?"

The boy looks up, dazed and confused.

Oswald rolls his eyes, "Oh fine. Make me do everything myself," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pocketknife, "you try anything, and I gut you like a fish," he suddenly bursts into laughter, "oh...yeah, like Fish."

Holding the knife to his chin, he searches through his pants pockets, taking his time to feel through the fabric to his skin. Oswald grins as the man's expression becomes one of discomfort and disgust. Finally, in his back pocket, he pulls out a cell phone.

"Can this take video?"

He nods his head profusely, and flipping the phone open, Oswald sets it to record. With knife in one hand, phone in the other, Oswald laughs malevolently.

"Show time!"

Author's Note:

Laura: Thank you :)

Fuchsia Grasshopper: Thanks, and while Mrs. Cobblepot and Natalie/Trixie might not exactly be besties (oh god, my pre-teen is showing), they will certainly have things to offer each other. As for Oswald, yeah...she's gonna be in for a surprise when he gets back into town

Emily: Here it is! Enjoy!

Follow me on Twitter (Fanfiction isn't letting me use the "at" sign): Tandothewriter

Thanks! :)