Chapter 86

I arrive back at the apartment to find the door already open, slightly ajar. Peeking inside, I find that nothing's been ransacked, or stolen. So...who else could break into my apartment?

Raising an eyebrow, I open the door all the way and enter, the rusty hinges squeaking as I push it open. The living room looks empty, with nothing having been noticeably disturbed.

The door slams shut behind me, and I whip around to find Oswald leaning against the door, his arms stretched up above him like spider legs.

"Well...what have we here?" he chuckles, his grin revealing disgusting, yellowed teeth.

I smile as he begins shambling from the door toward me, the effects of the alcohol not having completely worn off yet, I immediately wrap my arms around him.

"I hope to be spending a wonderful evening with you," Oswald leans in to kiss me.

But suddenly, he stops, and sniffs right at my lips, "You...had coffee?"

I nod, "Yeah, uhm, as a joke, a friend of mine gave me spiked coffee. I should have known when she offered it...oh well."

He holds my head with both hands, and he starts laughing, "You are drunk...aren't you? I can't help but find that incredibly adorable."

"Oh really? Well, I got a little surprise for you," I release myself from his arms, and start walking to the small fridge in my kitchen.

Opening the freezer, I remove Barbara's bottle of champagne, "I don't know, Barbara suggested I give this to you. I'm not sure if you'd like it, have you ever had champagne?"

Oswald shakes his head, "No, Mother would never let me drink…"

I grab a corkscrew from one of the drawers, "Well...this could be our little secret."

I hand the bottle and corkscrew to him while I grab two wine glasses from the cabinet, "Sorry I don't have proper champagne glasses. I'm not much of a drinker either."

"It's fine," he brushes off, plunging the corkscrew into the cork and beginning to twist.

The cork pops out, the champagne bubbling over and spilling out all over Oswald's hands and onto the floor, "Oh dear."

I chuckle, setting down the glasses and walking over to him. He puts the bottle down and holds up his soaked hands in embarrassment. Taking one of his hands, I start sucking his fingers one by one, maintaining eye contact as I lick off the spilled champagne.

He starts shoving his fingers further into my mouth, yanking them in and out of my mouth, with a sickeningly sweet grin.

I pop my mouth out of his fingers and smile, "Mmm...tasty."

Oswald pours two glasses for us and hands one to me. He raises his glass, "To our love, may it flourish forevermore."

We clink glasses and take sips, Oswald pausing briefly before downing the entire glass in one go. He immediately grabs the bottle and pours himself another, "This...tastes excellent."

"Hey, save some for me," I tease, reaching over to run my hand through his hair.

He takes my hand and wraps my arm around his waist. I scoot in closer, resting my head against his chest.

"I love you," I mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

Oswald remains silent, with me unable to see his expression. After a few moments, he grabs the back of my head and pushes it against him, before leaning down and kissing me on the top of my head.

He whispers in a shaky tone, "Oh, Trixie...always love me."

I get a strange sensation...I...I want to cry...my heart's heavy...I...I don't know what else to say.

"I will."

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…

She said it. Unwarranted. Unexpected. He didn't even need to say it first.

But...they are just words after all, why should he be so excited? Words can be created in an instant, with practically no effort at all. Words are often just air, something to fill the dead space, meaningless, fluff. So, what right did he have to become ecstatic the moment she said those three words? She's said them before, but only in response to his own admittances of affection.

Oswald stares up at the ceiling, refusing to sleep after their long night of drinking and merriment. He turns over to Trixie, asleep on the other side of the bed. He's far too drunk to please her in any refined manner, most of their night consisted of cuddling and talking. He liked talking to Trixie. Never before had he met someone with such common interests, yet was not afraid to make friendly argument when they disagreed. And, in the end, she would accept him, regardless of whether he could convince her or not. It's such a strange relationship, so strange, and yet, somehow, so natural…

Oswald reaches over and runs his hand through her hair, before slipping his hand over her shoulder. He starts scooting over toward her, wrapping his other arm under her waist. Would he wake her? He takes caution in slowly curling one arm over her shoulders, and one arm under her waist. She suddenly turns around, and, without saying a word, clears the space between them. She pushes herself against him, wrapping her arms around his chest.

Oswald squeezes her with his arms, before kissing her on the forehead. He looks down and finds that her eyes are still shut, peacefully sleeping. He smiles, before smoothing his hands along her back. His little bird is in her cage, may she be locked in his iron embrace forever.

Oswald wakes to the ringing of a phone in the other room. Who could be calling so early? Trixie starts shuffling to get up, but Oswald is much faster. He darts out of the bed and rushes out of the bedroom. The red phone he gave her is ringing on a small end table next to the living room couch. He picks it up, trying to imitate Trixie's lower, slightly feminine but also somewhat androgynous voice.

"Hello?"
"Trixie, it's Liza, can you meet me at my apartment this afternoon?" the voice on the other end asks.

Liza? Falcone's girl? Why would she be in contact with her? Unless…

"Why? Is something wrong? You sound worried," Trixie's voice is probably lower than Oswald's, but he hopes that the transition from voice to phone will mask his terrible imitation.

"You have my address, right? I think I gave it to you the last time we had tea."

Oswald twists his lips, glancing toward the bedroom door, where Trixie is picking up the bottle and wine glasses from last night. He needs to be fast.

"I-I'm sorry, I know you did, but I think I lost it. Could you give it again?" he asks, trying to sound sweet.

Trixie walks into the room, "Oswald...what are you doing?"

Reverting back to his normal voice, Oswald gives a mischievous smile, "...nothing."

Her aloof stare turns into a snarl as she stomps over and grabs the phone.

"Hello? ...Liza?! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry...you didn't tell him anything, did you? ...good, okay...okay, I'll meet you at Falcone's instead. Okay...see you then."

She hangs up and turns to Oswald, "I haven't even recovered from drinking last night and you're already scheming?"

He shrugs with an innocent, doe-like expression, "Well...I was just answering your phone."

Trixie holds her head and groans, "Fine, just...let me answer the phone next time."

She stumbles back into the bedroom, and Oswald frowns. She really can't handle her liquor, can she?

Meanwhile, Oswald begins searching for Liza's address. His first instinct leads him to Trixie's desk, where he picks up a yellow notepad. It looks like a previous page has been torn out. He outlines presses on the paper with his finger, she wrote something down on this notepad…

Oswald picks up a pencil from the cup of pencils on the desk, and starts frantically scratching the edge with the side of the lead, making sure not to scratch under the indentations. It's the address!

He quickly tears out the page and stuffs it in his pocket, putting the notebook and pencil back in place. He sits down on the couch just as Trixie stumbles in, dressed in her police uniform.

"You sure you don't want to take the day off? I could rent a television again and we could watch some daytime soap operas," Oswald offers.

She shakes her head, "No...no...I'm fine."

"Maybe you could at least have some breakfast? I could get cannoli."

Trixie looks up, a weary smile on her face. She walks over to him and kisses him on the cheek, "Last night was a whole lot of fun but, I gotta go to work, okay?"

She gets up and walks out, leaving Oswald sitting on the couch. He takes the piece of notepad paper out of his pocket. So this is Fish Mooney's secret, her person close to Falcone that Timothy mentioned. Having Trixie close is useful after all…

Then again, he could just destroy the note, go to work, be on Maroni's payroll while relaying all of his information to Falcone...but no, this was the ticket to uprooting Fish, so he could take her place at Falcone's table. No, that was far more important than betraying Trixie's trust.

He turns around, and sees the empty champagne bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. The drink had been excellent, only made more excellent by Trixie's company. He gets up and hobbles over to examine the bottle. Montagne de Reims...he should remember that.

Author's Note:

Langley21: Yeah, the reaction to the last two chapters has been...lukewarm at best. I knew I shouldn't have gone two straight chapters without Oswald or Ed, regardless of how much effort I put into the story. Anyway, yeah, she and Gordon have not been on the best of terms mainly due to his job, and how Natalie reacts to that, well...we'll have to wait and see ;)

Thanks! :)