Author's Note: I put this in the last chapter as well but I just wanted to update anyone who's past chapter 3 that it has been slightly rewritten (today 11/7/2018) to better fit what I have planned for this story. Thank you to anyone who is reading!
It had been two months since Oswald and Jim made their little deal. Oswald's men gossiped about his noticeably better mood.
Two days before their next meeting a group of his men assigned to guard a shipment of weapons from the docks was robbed of a cargo crate filled with projectors and mustard gas. They braced themselves for a bloody ending when they arrived to tell him the news. He gave them an angry false smile, and shot Mike, the guy in charge of the whole thing, in the foot. The rest were screamed at and free to go. They tried to hide the shock on their faces as they left but looked behind them to make sure they weren't going to get picked off as they went.
Two days later he was dressed in a finely cut suit, hair brushed and framing his face almost prettily, and walking into Jim's apartment. Nathaniel, a replacement for Victor, noticed what looked like a little color on his lips and cheeks but of course remained silent and stoic in the car while Oswald limped inside. He would have preferred to be inside or at least right by the door but Oswald wouldn't allow it.
They had switched the meeting place a few times but Jim's apartment was the easiest. The GCPD was littered with soldiers from the outside, and Oswald's place was littered with thugs. Oswald's face lit up when Jim opened the door and let him inside. He sat on the worn couch and looked around Jim's familiarly sparse living room, putting his cane to the side.
After looking to make sure no one had followed Oswald, Jim closed the door and looked at the other man. He gave a small smile and nodded.
"Oswald. You look...well." His eyes seemed to flit to Oswald's lips a couple of times briefly but Oswald thought perhaps he was imagining it. "Can I get you anything?"
"Water is fine."
Jim grabbed a jug of water from the fridge and poured it into a chipped glass. He looked behind him and wiped another glass around the rim with his shirt quickly and poured himself some water also.
"Some colleague of mine, it isn't important who," he waved his hand before Jim could speak, "who imports certain items, was robbed." Oswald said after they had been sitting across from each other sipping water for a few minutes and making small talk. He put his hands on his knees and leaned in towards Jim like an excited child.
Jim looked at him blankly. "What?"
"The items that were stolen were traditionally used for chemical warfare." He continued in his usual husky voice. "One of the items had a tracking device." He grinned.
"So I suppose your friend will be able to get his items back. How does this help with Jeremiah?"
"I've only met two criminals who used gas as a weapon in Gotham, Jim." He gave him a knowing look.
"Jerome Valeska and…" Jim muttered.
"Mr. Crane." Oswald filled in. "He has worked with Jeremiah in the past. If we can find him I'm confident that Jeremiah is close by."
Jim beamed at him suddenly and Oswald was practically brimming with pride. "You're amazing." It as the first real lead they had gotten on this thing. He shook his head at Oswald.
"Oh, you." He gestured in embarrassment and laughed. "Amazing is surely an overstatement- but I'll take the compliment." His face was a little red. He lifted his phone and smirked. "The device is at an abandoned warehouse a mere seven blocks from here."
Jim stood up, grabbed his jacket and tucked his gun into his holster before strapping it on himself.
"You coming?" He said and looked at Oswald earnestly. Oswald felt his stomach twist and grabbed his hand. He pulled himself up with Jim's help and Jim grabbed his cane for him.
"We can take my car if you want." He offered but Jim shook his head.
"You have a limo, too conspicuously. We'll have to take my car and I have the gun so you should drive."
Oswald stopped short. "Jim, I can't."
Jim turned around confused. "Why? Are you afraid? I have my weapon I'm not going to let anyone get to you." He gently put his hand on his holster under his jacket.
"No, Jim, I don't know how to drive." His mouth twisted into an embarrassed little pucker. "We can have Nathaniel drive."
"That works." Jim offered lamely. The heightened sense of momentum was oddly ruined but they both moved on from the subject quickly. Oswald wasn't sure why it had embarrassed him so much, and despite this dangerous thing they were about to do, his brain sat on the moment for longer than necessary, even while he and Jim directed Nathaniel to drive and they all piled into Jim's beat up little car and Oswald read the directions to the warehouse.
They parked about a block away and Oswald's thoughts were brought back to the present with a click of a gun. Nathaniel handed him one and loaded his own. They all got out and the adrenaline seem to keep the pain from Oswald's bad leg at bay, his cane left forgotten in the car.
They got to the building and walked slowly, guns in the air. Their noses were nipped by the cold, each one's nose was starting to get a little red but Oswald's was getting the worst of it. Their breath came out in silent clouds of fog.
There was a scrambling clattering noises from inside, heard through a broken window and the sound of gun shots. Jim yelled for Nathaniel to run upstairs and he would try to cut them off in the back. Oswald heard a fire escape ladder and followed Jim towards it. They saw Crane dressed in his rags sprinting towards a white van. Oswald stopped, knowing he wasn't going to make it, and noticed the faint trace of a logo that has been scrubbed off or painted over. When he looked back at the window, he made eye contact with Crane. It all happened in the span of 5 seconds before the van sped off, wheels squealing.
Jim kept running toward them to the end of the alleyway and turned around. He heard a shot and looked up to see a man fall from the top story of the building. Oswald gasped when the body hit the ground and covered his mouth with a gloved hand, shaking.
Jim looked away grimacing and Nathaniel came walking into the alleyway from the outside.
"Sniper." He said gesturing toward what was left of the body on the ground.
"Damn it." Jim growled through gritted teeth. "They had a lookout."