Chapter 93

Peeking in on Ed's workshop, I find him at his workbench, endlessly mumbling to himself.

"Ma-maybe I should give her flowers...no! That'd be too obvious...but she hasn't responded to any of my other gestures. Not the reorganizing of her files, which, might I add, I improved on her system...and she shunned me away...why didn't she see the work I did for her?"

"...Ed?" I ask, lightly tapping my hand on the door.

His head jerks up, taking notice of me. I push the door open, revealing a bakery box in my hand,

"Peace offering?"

Ed's confused stare turns into a smile, "Muffins?"

"Cranberry muffins," I correct, stepping in and handing him the box.

He sets down the box, and we sit down in the dark green couch settled in the middle if the workshop.

"Where'd you get this couch from, Ed? I know this room is supposed to be for storage, but why would a police precinct need a couch?"

Ed pats the nearest couch arm, and a puff of dust flies up, "It use to be the break room couch. They were about to throw it out when I snatched it up."

"Really? I didn't even know we had a break room," I confess, chuckling.

Opening the bakery box and taking out a cranberry muffin, Ed takes a bite out of the top of it, "Nat...while I will compromise to trust your judgement on this man, if he hurts you further I insist that you come to me right away."

I can't help but laugh, "Alright, but, what are you going to do about it?"

Ed whips out a surgical knife, flashing a depraved smile, "What do you think?"

"Ed, where did you get that?!" I shout, grabbing his hand and forcing him to put the knife away.

His smile fades, realizing that I took no humor in his joke, "Procured it from the medical examiner's office. He takes such poor inventory of things...he won't miss it. That reminds me."

Ed stands up in a rigid manner and shuffles over to his workbench. Picking up a folder hidden under a false bottom, he turns around and walks over to open up the folder in front of me. Brightly lit pictures of dead bodies lying on a cold medical table.

"Ed...where did you get these?" I ask, browsing through the photos.

"I've been performing my own autopsies," he explains, reaching under the table and bringing up a box of tapes and a large player.

Selecting one of the tapes, he inserts it into the tape player and starts to rewind the tape. As we watch the microfilm on the tape turn, I ask, "Wouldn't you get fired if the medical examiner found out? I hear he's quite the stick in the mud."

Ed smiles, reaching over to pat me on the head, "That's the whole point of the autopsies, my thorough intellect compensates for his ignorant sloppishness."

"Just...be careful," I warn him.

"Oh, you're allowed to warn me about my questionable experimentations but I can't warn you of dubious lovers? I smell a hypocrite, Nat," Ed pokes at me playfully.

I laugh, reaching my hand over to mess with Ed's meticulously neat hair. He swats my hand away, and takes a comb out of his coat pocket to reorganize it.

I smile, I should be grateful Ed's such a forgiving guy, after all, he's a great friend. God...I sigh to myself...I still love him-...no! I snap myself out of my daydream, no, I can't. Ed's pursuing Kristen, and I have Oswald, end of story. But...is it bad to wish for something I'll never have? After all, Oswald is not a perfect alternative to Ed, and to be perfectly honest with myself, I'd dump Oswald in a heartbeat if I could have Ed. But so what? I never will, so why am I even considering that a possibility?

I get up from the couch, "Okay, I have to actually get some work done. You should too, Ed."

"I finished my work hours ago. I'm being criminally underused, my intellect wasted on menial tasks. And yet the morgue autopsies are so backlogged and rushed that the medical examiner is beside himself! If only he'd employ my help," Ed bemoans.

"Well, maybe you could use your skills in some other way. The precinct is always busy, I'm sure there's something you could do," I assure him, before opening the door, "and also, enjoy the muffins."

Ed smiles, waving goodbye as I shut the door. He takes another bite of his cranberry muffin and murmurs to himself, "You know...maybe I could do something…"

At the specified drop off point, a side bench on one of Gotham Central Park's many side paths. Trees encircle the dirt clearing in which the bench sits, no one's frequented this place in a long time.

When I circle the bench, I spot a package wrapped in brown paper tucked under the bench and partially covered in dead leaves.

Sitting down on the bench, I begin to unwrap the package, pulling off the string keeping it together and unfolding the paper wrapping. It appears to be a long, thin metal case with a four-number combination lock. There's no clue as to what the code is, but I already know. Inputting the year I was suppose to have graduated college before joining the CIA, the case snaps open.

The first thing that catches my eye is some sort of radio device, with a small screen and a retractable antenna. Next to the radio, is a wrapped black cloth, tucked into the case's side.

Picking up the radio, I pull up the antenna, and the black-and-white screen buzzes to life, a familiar face appearing on the screen.

"Natalie, good, you got my message," Amanda nods, her grainy image occasionally buzzing out of focus.

"Thanks for the gift Amanda. I needed a place to store my Trickstress costume," I smile.

"That's not all, enclosed in this case is a state-of-the-art lock picking kit, just as you requested," she informs me.

I put down the radio and pick up the wrapped black cloth. It's heavier than I expected, and as I unwrap the black cloth, I realize that the cloth has several wooden and metal tools attached to it.

"These are perfect, Amanda. Thank you so much," I smile, before turning back to her image on the screen. There's something different about her…

"Amanda, have you gained weight? You're not stress-eating again," I ask, rewrapping the cloth and putting it back in the case.

She raises an eyebrow, "Things have been...complicated here. Budgetary issues mostly. I've been constructing a prison to house my Task Force X members, and, on our budget...a common crook could get out with a toothbrush. But nevermind that. There's one more thing I have for you. We're not the only one with this communicator."

The screen starts to buzz, and Amanda's image begins to shrink, as the screen is split, and a second face is revealed on screen.

"So this is your secret agent life? Huh...pretty impressive," Barbara comments, looking into her communicator.

I reel back, "Babs?! How do...how-"

"Shush, you couldn't keep me from meeting all of your friends, that's how high society works. We meet friends so we can...meet their friends," she chuckles to herself.

The screen splits again, and Renee's face appears, "Hello."

"Amanda, what is the meaning of this?!" I cry.

Amanda smirks, "Let's just say you're not the only contact I have in the police force."

The screen flashes, and one last face fills the small black-and-white screen, now leaving the monitor quite crowded, "Crispus Allen. I believe we've met."

"Allen has been my main contact within the GCPD for some time now. He's been tracking your progress," Amanda explains.

So she's had him tracking my progress this whole time? And I haven't noticed him at all? How much does he know? He must be pretty good to have never caught my attention, but is he good enough to know everything I've been up to?

Allen nods, "Mhm. You're quite the specimen, Natalie. I think we should get to know each other better."

"Professionalism, Allen," Amanda warns, before continuing, "Ms. Kean, Ms. Montoya, Natalie, I'm interested in your investigations into the Court of Owls. We've been trying to catch them for years but...no one's been as close as you have. I'll do everything in my power to assist you."

Before either Renee or I can respond, Barbara speaks up, "My thanks Ms. Waller, but we're doing just fine on our own. In fact, Natalie and I are attending a party with prime Court of Owl members tonight."

That's right, Falcone's party honoring Marsha, Queen of Diamonds. No doubt they'll be at least some Court members there, but I had no idea Barbara was attending. Why didn't she tell me?

Amanda is almost taken aback by Barbara's refusal of her help. She isn't use to those kinds of things, "Why...of course. I understand. Nonetheless, you will of course keep me updated on your findings-"

"Oh, we will. Thank you Ms. Waller."

The monitor on the communicator is cut, leaving it completely black. I put away the communicator back into the case and close it shut. Why was Barbara acting so strange? Does she not like Amanda? Perhaps she distrusts her, I could see that being a possibility. And what about Allen? How did he end up working for Amanda? How does anyone end up working for her, I have to wonder.

Standing up from the park bench, I head down the path back to the main road. My footsteps are quick, after all, I don't want to be late to the party.

Author's Note:

Narutoske: Thanks :) Natalie and Oswald's relationship has always walked that line between creepy and romantic. Whether it's more of which is up to your interpretation. Although it's interesting you think that they could never go back to thinking they'll just be friends. It does seem like Natalie's kind of stuck where she is at the moment, and I think Oswald likes it that way

Erik-is-my-angel1234: Thank you, yeah, while Oswald and Natalie's interactions can easily become intense, it's good to see a lighter, more mundane side to them every now and again

Thanks! :)