Chapter 68

I return to the apartment complex, hoping to get an afternoon of peace and quiet before heading out as the Trickstress tonight. On the way home I'd bought some magazines from a local stand that caught my eye, and maybe I could listen to the radio as well.

Ascending the stairs to my apartment, I open the door to find it uninhabited. It's almost strange, I'd almost become use to running into Oswald snooping through my stuff. One time I'd installed a lock on the fire escape window, only to find it smashed to pieces and Oswald rummaging through my drawers.

Sitting down on the couch, I kick off my heels and set the magazines down on the coffee table. The first magazine I pick up is a renter's guide. I look through the Gotham listing, hoping maybe to find a nice apartment so I can move out of this one. I flip the page and am greeted with a full page advertisement drawn in the style of Norman Rockwell for a small town. Smallville, seems like a nice place, but I'm more of a city person myself.

The magazine blows toward me, and my heart jumps. How can there be a breeze, when none of the windows are open? Glancing below the magazine, I see a pair of sharp dress shoes and dark socks, covered partially by black slacks. I lower the magazine, revealing Oswald's long nose mere inches away from mine.

"Afternoon Oswald," I greet him, raising the magazine above his face, blocking him from view.

"Afternoon Trixie," he replies, sitting down on the couch next to me, squishing himself so that his side is up against mine.

Glancing over from my reading, I'm greeted with a wide-eyed Oswald, his expression expectant.

"Why are you looking at apartments?" he asks, leaning over.

"I told you, I'm thinking about moving out to another apartment," I remind him.

He places both hands into his lap, "I would...strongly advise against that."

"Oh really? And why's that?" I inquire, placing down the magazine.

"Because you would benefit from staying close to me," he reasons, taking my hand, "I'm...growing increasingly concerned for our relationship. You seem displeased with me."

Displeased? Does Oswald just not understand other people, or is he playing that angle to his advantage? There's no way he could be that stupid, he's just trying to disarm me, catch me off guard.

"I am displeased with you. You tried to kill my friend," I state, explaining to him as if he were a child.

"But with only the best of intentions! I know you desire your friend over me, but that he desires not for you. I...I was just trying to correct the injustice-"

"By murdering him?" I snap, cutting him off.

He shirks back, but in that moment, the light in his eyes shift from hopeful to malicious. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth, lowering his head, "I don't need your approval of my actions. I had my reasons for what I did and I have no regrets."

I place my hand on Oswald's shoulder. While his more aggressive side has lost most of its shock value, there's still a slight fear and hesitation as I attempt to calm him, "Fine, maybe you don't need my approval. But I also don't need to tell you that committing murder has serious consequences."

"Ha, consequences. How are the police doing on your victim's murder? What about Edward's? I'll bet you aren't a suspect in either of those murders, despite the fact that you're clearly tied to at least one of them."

I rest my head against the back of the couch as Oswald continues, "What I'm saying is that in Gotham, none of us matter. Common people mean nothing to the police, they only care about the politicians, the mob bosses...the important people. And when a person isn't important, well, we can do what we please with them."

He ends his monologue with a smile, a wide, sick grin. But this was different from all of his usual smiles. A sadness hiding just behind the insanity.

"Oswald, are you alright? You seem more...disturbed than usual," I run my hand down his arm, and he places his hand on top of mine.

He sighs, "Oh Trixie...if I can't have love through you then where can I recieve it? Can I recieve it?"

I squeeze his arm, "Oswald, you have a loving mother who would do anything for you. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"I know...but that's not what I mean," he clarifies, "I desire a more vulgar kind of love. One that can't be provided in the loving arms of a mother."

He grabs both of my hands and lifts them up, "I...I want to feel the gentle caress of a lover on my own, bare skin. And I want to respond with my own rough embrace, giving my partner only the finest of pleasures. We'll reach our breaking points together, squealing to each other's delight until he-"

Oswald stops dead in his fantasy as he realizes his slip up. His breathing becomes rapid, and he takes his hands off of me as he scoots back. But just as he reaches the other end of the couch, I grab his wrist, giving a small smile, "Hey...it's fine. Don't freak out."

Looking down at my hand, Oswald takes my hand and pulls me toward him. I may have reacted with appropriate timing, but I'm still in shock. Did he just...is he...opening up to me? While his confession may seem overly dramatic, the frantic manner in which he sputtered out his fantasy implies that he's never told this to anyone else, certainly not his mother. But, if this is the case, why didn't such things show up in his dream world? Or maybe I'm focusing on the wrong aspect. Maybe it's not the specific gender he craves, but rather the idea of exploring his sexuality without constraints. But that's something you sort out in your teenaged years, not as a fully grown adult.

I wrap my arms around him, not knowing what to say. So I resolve to saying nothing at all, letting him pull me close to cuddle. I can't help but smile, while Oswald is somewhat older than me, sometimes I forget how childlike he can be.

After a long while, I look up at Oswald, who's stroking my back with his left hand, "So...who was it you were imagining?"

His eyes widen, and I smile, running my hand through his hair, "You know, why don't you tell him how you feel?"

"I...I couldn't," he stutters.

"Why not? Oswald, I'm not your only option. You just have to...give it a chance."

He wraps his arm around me, and I lean into his shoulder, "You...you really care, don't you?"

"In my strange way, yes, I do," I confess, shrugging.

"...why?"

I smile, "Why not?"

His face lights up, and he lowers his head toward mine, closing his eyes. Twisting his head to the side, he leans in to kiss…

"No," I stop him, putting my finger on his lips, "Oswald, see what I mean? You need to meet other people."

He slumps into the back of the couch, "Why? Why do you keep at my side? After all the betrayal...and yet here you are...trying to comfort me…but not completely submitting."

"Well, do you want me to leave?"

"No...but the torment of your teasing puts a lot of unnecessary stress on me," he admits, "...for example: I very much like the dress you're wearing."

I look down, I'm still wearing the dress I wore to see Liza, white and flowy, with the skirt at my knees. He reaches over and runs his hand up my leg, under my skirt, "Go on...tell me you don't want it."

He dives in, and we kiss, as I grasp my hand on his shoulder. He wraps his other arm around my waist and leads me to his lap. His mouth trails down my neck, making a line of kisses until he reaches my collar bone. With one hand, he unzips the back of my dress-

"No!" I cry, leaping off of his lap.

He stands, grabbing the strap of my dress and pulling me forward, "This is what I mean! Are you mine or are you not?! You're so...indecisive...and it's killing me...why?! But I bet you can't tell me why, can you? Because you, don't even know yourself."

My mouth opens, but no words come out as my eyes search for an answer, any answer. But Oswald has me pinned, this time not physically, but in words, in rhetoric. Damn…

A devilish grin spreads across his face, as he chuckles giddily, "You have to choose...my lover, or my enemy."

"Get out," I hiss, yanking him off of me.
He continues to laugh in my face, shaking his head, "You want me...I can see it in your eyes. Go on, push against me, but I will have satisfaction, one way or another."

"Get out!" I repeat, barking.

I push him toward the door as his laughter becomes hysterical. Just when I have him out the door, I kick him in his bum leg, shutting up his giggles. I stomp to the other side of the door and slam it shut. Leaning against the door, I finally let tears roll down my cheek as I slide to the floor, curling up into a ball and pressing my head into my knees to sob, my dress still unzipped.

Author's Note:

McCoyote: Thanks, I agree, Liza had a lot of potential as a character, a lot of points about her ended up going no where. That chapter probably seemed shorter because the one before it had the regular chapter plus the '66 Standalone Special, and now we're back to just regular chapters. Oswald will be prominent for the next couple of chapters, I promise! And thank you, I leave for home on Saturday, although Niagara Falls sounds wonderful, another place I will have to visit one day

Erik-is-my-angel1234: Thanks, Liza will be popping in occasionally, especially in the next arc

Thanks! :)