Chapter 81

It's dawn by the time I reach my apartment. Getting past the guards took forever, and calling V at two in the morning for instructions on how to hotwire the Batmobile (Batwoman had the key) took even longer.

After changing out of my costume, I flop onto my bed, absolutely exhausted. A part of me wants to call in sick, but I have to go to work to warn Gordon. I'm just going to get as much sleep as I can before...I have to...go to work…

Oswald creeps into Trixie's apartment. When he'd returned from his visit to Don Falcone's mansion, he'd noticed that she'd disappeared. He was tempted to simply sleep in her bed, but, well, he himself was quite tied up last night, and didn't return home until late.

Something's wrong, the usual stirrings of her morning activities have not yet begun. She's usually started getting ready for work by now, is she ill? Dead? Ill to the point of death?

Gripping his hand around the door handle, he opens the door to her bedroom. There she is, lying in bed. The sheets are still freshly made from the previous night, and she lies atop them, not even bothering to tuck herself in.

Oswald swings the door back, leaving it slightly ajar. He roams around the bed, his finger tracing the edge. Getting down on his knees, he meets her face-to-face. She's so vulnerable when she's asleep, if only she could always be like this.

A strong morning wind blows through the apartment, slamming the door shut. Oswald leaps back, his eyes darting to Trixie. Would she wake?

Without even a stir, she remains completely asleep. Wow...whatever she was out doing last night must have wiped her out. Did she go out partying? Did she see other men? ...no, Trixie isn't the type.

He looks down and finds that her Trickstress costume has been haphazardly stuffed into the folds of the mattress. Ah...so that's what she's been up to. Can't have anyone noticing this.

Oswald stuffs the remainder of her costume into the mattress before standing. Perhaps he should surprise her, prepare her breakfast, or maybe do some cleaning. Hmph...no, he's never been good at those things, and her pot is still burned from the time he tried making her soup…

He rounds the bed to the other side, her bed is large enough for two, and she prefers to sleep on one particular side anyway. Taking off his pointed black shoes, he sits down on her bed before hoisting his feet up. He turns to Trixie, who'd at least bothered to change into her sleepwear of a tank top and shorts. Doesn't she know that winter's coming? Gotham gets terribly cold in the winter months, she could freeze to death.

From out under her, he begins undoing the sheet covers and pulling them out. Once he has it entirely out, he covers her with the sheets, also wrapping himself in its folds.

Scooching closer to her, Oswald lays a hand on her shoulder, "Trixie...what am I going to do with you?" he asks aloud.

She doesn't respond, instead lies completely still, her head turned away from him.

"You think you understand how I feel...but you don't. You have no idea how much I...how much I love you," his hand glides down her arm, and stops with him taking her hand.

"And yet...you'll never know this, you never could know. Unless and until I can truly trust you, you'll never know how I feel about you. And I can't trust you, can I? Not now, nor ever."

He takes his other hand and brushes her hair, "I...I should kill you, shouldn't I? Because...because there are times when you make me feel so weak and helpless and I…!"

He stops, realizing he's squeezing her hand in his. Loosening his grip, he toys with her fingers, examining each one with care.

"...at the same time...if I were to end you, that wouldn't end my sorrow, would it? No, I will always be left wanting, damned if I do, damned if I don't. But...is it you that I desire, or simply what you provide? Do I love you because you're the only one who's come close to giving me what I've always wanted?"

Coddling her in his arms, Oswald pulls Trixie closer, "It seems so strange, to have someone come out of the blue, seemingly by chance, and take an interest in...in me. Was it just a formal gesture or were you invested from the start? Did you fall for me, knowing what I would become? Knowing my intentions? Or...or maybe you saw my potential, and knew that this was the perfect moment to strike. To ingratiate yourself to the man that would one day become one of the most powerful in Gotham."

He leans over to whisper directly in her ear, "But to be honest...I'm surprised how long you've stayed. I mean, I've never held onto friends for long...if at all, so...maybe this is just what loyal friendship is like. But, when you walked out after my first attempt to take you...I'd...I'd thought I'd lost you forever. It meant no real consequence to me of course but...I...I missed-"

He yanks himself away from her, pulling away from her sheets, "You see?! This is what you do to me! You make me weak...and, and indecisive! Pathetic! I should have you locked away in a cage! Somewhere you could never hurt me! Somewhere you...somewhere I could feel safe."

He lowers himself back onto the bed, "Trixi-...Natalie...am I allowed to be weak? Would you find me unworthy if I were weak, just this once?"

Rolling over, her eyes remain shut as she grumbles, "Just shut up and let me sleep."

He bows his head in embarrassment, "Of...of course! My-my apologies I...didn't even consider-"

Her dark brown eyes peek open, hoisting up her elbow to sit up, "Well, I wasn't getting anymore sleep anyway."

She gets up, taking his hand, "I gotta go to work, but I have a surprise for you tonight, okay?"

"A...a surprise?"

She nods her head, before reaching up and kissing him on the forehead, "Yes, and don't even think of spoiling the surprise."

A surprise, huh? Unspeakable thoughts begin dancing in Oswald's head...yes...a surprise…

"That sounds wonderful Trixie. Should I bring anything?" he asks, taking her hand.

She shakes her head, placing her hand on his chest, "No, just your…" her hand glides down the fabric of his suit, landing on his lower stomach, "...appetite."

Oswald's eyes widen, looking down at where her hand is, and then glancing back up at her suggestive expression. Have his prayers been answered? Is she giving herself wholly and fully to him? Can he finally trust her?

He buries his lips into hers, wrapping his arms to squeeze her tight. Running his hand through her hair, he pushes himself upon her, leaning his head over her and encasing his body around hers.

"I...I love you," Oswald whimpers, holding her so tight his fingers dig into her skin.

Trixie pauses, but only momentarily, kissing him on the cheek, "I love you too."

They hold each other for a few moments more, until she glances over to the clock on the wall, "Crap, I'm late!"

Breaking away from Oswald's arms, she tramples back into her room, slamming the door behind her. Oswald tip-toes to her door, not daring to try to open it, "So...we're still on for dinner tonight? After all, you did stand me up last night."

She flings the door open again, having changed into her police uniform in mere seconds, "Of course. Seven tonight?"

He nods, and Trixie gives him one more kiss on the cheek, "Stay out of trouble till then, okay?"

She hikes to the door, grabbing her patrolman hat hanging from the coat hanger, and leaves, closing the door behind her.

Oswald presses his hand against the spot on his cheek where she'd kissed him. All the confusion, the madness...was it worth the sheer bliss he felt when she kissed him? When she gave him those little sprinklings of affection that he so craved? And if so, should he punish her for feeding him her love with a silver spoon instead of a ladle? Maybe...maybe she does more good for him than he realizes…

I heard everything. Until now, I thought there was no such thing as reading too much Shakespeare, but Oswald has clearly passed that threshold. I woke up when the wind slammed the door close, so I was wide awake for his entire monologue, closing my eyes and keeping still to imitate a state of sleep. And when he gave me a chance to respond...well, I couldn't help myself.

But what he said, about me, about how he feels...did he really mean it? I mean, he must have thought I was truly asleep to have gone on such a revealing tangent. Who knew he was such a softie on the inside? Well, actually, that doesn't come as too much of a surprise to me. After all, as much as he's become a player in the gang world, there's still that eager, innocent, slightly bewildered puppy-dog that was thrown out of the bar along with me all those months ago. But at the same time, there's no denying that his manipulative, conniving side was always there from the start. His two sides interchange at will to suit his current needs, but the question is: which side is the mask, and which is the true self?

Oh god, now there I go, having my own Shakespearean monologue, but at least I'm keeping mine to myself.

Author's Note:

Erik-is-my-angel1234: Thanks, I like Batwoman and the Trickstress too, they make a dynamic duo, don't they?

Langley21: Awe, thanks, I sometimes get worried that people don't remember what happened in the earlier episodes, but if I were to use the episodes as they came out I would have to rush through the storyline much faster and make things much less coherent. So thanks for noticing that, and for liking Barbara. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Thanks! :)