Chapter Eighteen: Platonic

It was in the middle of the afternoon. Traffic wasn't substantially horrific. However, with the waver of Sylvia's edging temper, it seemed like too long of a drive to Arkham Asylum. While the woman glared at every pedestrian walking slower than molasses over cross walks, and at the taxis which made abrupt halts in order to pick up their new fares—or anything in general—Oswald kept his hands on the little gift box, which rested humbly on his lap.

Sylvia had been quite taken to be his chauffeur on many more than one occasion. While she shifted restlessly in her seat, Oswald glanced out the window, uncertain as to whether he'd wanted her to come along or not. As crazy as Gotham had become (and with Fish Mooney out and about), he had been on the fence about her company…still, it had been she who had insisted. She was his unofficial body guard; with the magnitude of her physical strength and the unholy temper that wavered as her hormones grew, Sylvia was an unstoppable force…period. So, he naturally allowed her to do what she wanted.

But this trip wasn't like any others they'd taken together.

It was not their first visit to the asylum as guests, but it was the first time in which they both were visiting the same patient: Edward Nygma.

Events of the past had made things more than awkward: Oswald's knowledge of the fact that Ed had feelings for his wife, for one…as well as knowing that at one-point (and perhaps another that he imagined) Ed had also kissed Sylvia.

He had decidedly forgiven this transgression for the very reason that everyone (excluding Sylvia) was an idiot and Edward was the only competent intellectual to whom Oswald could confide his deepest worries.

Sylvia had her own hang ups where Ed was concerned: he had framed her brother for killing Galavan, a crime that she had committed—well, at least when Galavan died the first time. It wasn't until Ed had redeemed himself by picking the lock to Hugo Strange's mysterious basement of experiments (ultimately having saved her life as well as the lives of everyone in Gotham) that Sylvia forgave him for his betrayal.

To say that Oswald and Sylvia's friendship with Edward Nygma was anything but simple was an understatement. Perhaps it was this complexity that made the trio's friendship that much more unique, and worth having.

"What is that?" She asked impatiently, her eyes casting to the side for a glimpse of the little cube, which was elegantly wrapped in black and gold paper with a matching, black ribbon tied neatly in a bow.

"A gift."

"For Ed?"

"Yes."

"As long as it's not something that can be used as a weapon," Sylvia muttered, glaring at the traffic ahead of her.

"Do you think Ed would suddenly become violent?" Oswald asked coolly, ignoring her waspish tone.

"No, but ever since the hand-stabbing incident with Fish, I'd be wary of any gifts you give to anyone." She glanced at him shortly before checking both lanes, signaling, and then steadily gliding to the right to change her lane.

"Including you?"

"Including me," Sylvia conceded, smirking at him.

The crooked grin on her face lifted his spirits. While the days had continued, Sylvia's mood swings had become almost intolerable. Her grumpy attitude that had wavered whilst in their drive had become that much apparent, and Oswald was relieved to see that he could make her smile.

"How was he?" He asked lightly, as he looked at her. "When you last saw him?"

"Miserable," Sylvia answered; she emitted a low, frustrated sigh as she tapped her breaks. "Of course, I have to get stuck behind a bus. That's just great…" She sighed deeply, closing her eyes for a moment, before she continued calmly: "Ed looked miserable."

"What did you two discuss?"

"The weather, Hugo Strange, the monsters in Gotham, stock market values," She listed, and smiled sheepishly at him when Oswald looked a little more than suspicious. "What do you think we discussed, honey?"

"A little more than just that."

"Your jealousy is showing."

Oswald rolled his eyes, muttering, "I'm not jealous."

"You're seething."

"I am not seething."

To his dismay, Sylvia nodded as though she was placating him. But he couldn't help it.

When he thought of Sylvia and Edward together, all he could see was the two of them engaged in some animalistic, kissing frenzy. Yes, he'd decidedly overlooked it…Ed was overtly apologetic the last time he had visited him. But the thought was still there, wasn't it? And yet, he'd seen Sylvia kiss Barbara Kean right in front of him, and while he was bothered by it, per se, he wasn't nearly driven to insanity with the image. Perhaps it was knowing that Sylvia hadn't ever felt anything more than appeal towards Barbara whereas she'd previously admitted to having had romantic feelings for his male friend.

Either way, Oswald grumpily leaned back in his seat, avoiding her gaze.

Sylvia clicked her tongue thoughtfully as she watched the taxis swivel through the lanes, dropping off their fares; the bus in front of them hadn't moved at all in the past five minutes. Her nostrils flared as she steadily inhaled and exhaled deeply, maintaining her composure.

"Are you still attracted to him?"

Sylvia startled at the question, glancing at him.

"I've told you before. I'm not."

"Not even a little?"

"What little attraction I had to him disappeared when I found out what he did to Jim, Oswald." Sylvia reiterated patiently, although she was close to losing her patience; they'd had this conversation several times now, haven't they! "I only see him as a friend."

"Only as a friend?"

"Are you sure you're not jealous?"

"I'm not."

"I think you are."

"I said I'm not!" Oswald snapped.

Sylvia raised her eyebrows at him, pointing out that he had just proven her point with his frustrated outburst. She didn't acknowledge her victory with any sort of gloating remark, knowing that if she pushed Oswald too much, the two of them would be in another heated argument before the day was out. Their first argument about whether toast was a good option for breakfast was enough for one day. Another idiotic quarrel was just too much.

"So…" She said softly, tapping her fingernails along the leather steering wheel. "What do you want to do for dinner?"

Oswald noted her tone, how soft and soothing it was.

"You're changing the subject."

"Seeing as you're still moody about what happened between us—"

"—I'm not moody. You're telling me I'm jealous, when I've told you several times that I am not. How many times are we going to have this conversation?"

"Just admit that you are and we're done," Sylvia said curtly. "I know how you act when you're jealous, Oz. Everything about the way you're acting says it all. You ask me what Ed and I talk about and you're suspicious because we don't talk about relationships or about you? What the hell do you call that!"

Oswald rolled his eyes.

"Here we go—rehashing the same argument…"

"We're only friend. He knows where I stand, and he respects that. I know where I stand, and I've told you several times that you have nothing to worry about. I told you before that if I ever thought about cheating on you, you'd be the first to know. Remember me saying that?"

"I recall you saying something to that affect, yes," Oswald admitted, frowning at her.

The silence in the car was most unbearable. He felt as though he might suffocate from the grip of it. As Sylvia parked the car in front of the asylum, she was about to get out but Oswald took her wrist, and she stopped moving. She met his eyes, those cerulean orbs boring into his.

"I love you, Pigeon." He said remorsefully.

"I love you too," Sylvia returned. Her frown disappeared, and morphed into a soft smile. "And Ilove only you."

Oswald closed his eyes as she touched his face with the gentle caress of her palm, the softness of her skin, her warmth. He felt her lips touch his, kissing him. He returned it in such a way that was passionate, that even if he couldn't apologize properly, he could convey it in a single gesture.

When the kiss naturally broke, Sylvia looked at him endearingly.

"Are we okay?" She whispered.

"Yes. Forgive me for thinking badly of you, I…"

"We all get a little insecure."

He smiled when she said what he was afraid to say. Yes, he was insecure. More than he feared anything else, Oswald was afraid that another man (or a woman) would see Sylvia as he saw her and she would leave him. He doubted that he could take a heart break like that—not in this lifetime or the next.

Oswald moved out of the car, taking the little gift box with him. Sylvia met him in front of the car.

"You're doing better in traffic," He cared to note as they walked together through the gate.

"It's an illusion," Sylvia responded, chuckling to herself. "I had to literally bite my tongue in order to not scream at anyone."

She poked her tongue out, and Oswald grimaced when he saw that she had done what she said—teeth marks on her tongue, a little blood, but at least she hadn't bitten through the muscle completely.

"I'll drive on the way back."

"My tongue will heal." Sylvia said carelessly, opening the double doors so that she and Oswald walked in.

Their silence came as they entered the hospital. For Sylvia, it was a matter of revisiting the place that gave her a hard time. For Oswald, it was like coming back to Hell.

He could hear the screams through the walls, even though silence was the only thing that greeted them in the hallways. It became a white noise after some time.

The guards that greeted them weren't fond of seeing either of them, but they acknowledged Oswald and Sylvia as guests. Both were given a guest pass and seated inside a room where the patient would be escorted through the door and seated by a guard.

In the quiet room, Sylvia looked around, unable to sit as she was restless on a daily basis. Oswald minded her prowling feet; the occasional click of her heels as she paced slowly around the room. When the door opened, both Sylvia and Oswald met the appearance of the correctional guard, who pulled Edward Nygma into the clearing, and forcibly sat him down. The guard returned to his post just in front of the door.

At first neither Sylvia nor the other two gentlemen spoke. While they were seated in front of each other, Sylvia stood in her own little world, minding the steel-like doors, the golden light that hid behind the translucent, shell-like wall, and the guard who remained still as he looked at all three of them with more spite than what might have been humanely possible.

"Do you want a chair?" The guard asked as he met her eyes with an unhinged gaze of his own.

"No. I prefer to stand." Sylvia replied just as coolly. "The question is do you want a chair?"

"I don't need one."

"I didn't say that."

"You did, you just asked—"

"Whether you 'want' something or you 'need' it are two separate things." Sylvia returned smartly; she approached him and his entire body became as stiff as a statue. "For instance, I want you to leave."

"I'm expected to remain here throughout the visit," the guard insisted although he appeared to want less than that. "It's hospital policy."

"'No patient left behind' kind of thing?"

"Something like that."

"No one's dying here tonight. If you want to go get a cup of coffee, I'll make sure nothing happens. You have my word."

Ed and Oswald glanced at each other knowingly: Sylvia didn't care whether the guard did as she wanted. She was just having a bit of fun. While she toyed with the guard, Oswald placed the little gift box in front of Ed, who peered at it curiously, lifting his eyes to him in response.

Wordlessly, Ed unwrapped it and saw that it was a box. Colorful designs on each side, glossy.

"It's a puzzle." Oswald said, smiling widely. "The trick is opening it. The man at the store said that it is one of the most difficult ever made. People pass it down, unsolved, for generations. A mathematician once went mad trying to…"

As he spoke, Ed fiddled with the puzzle like a Rubik's cube and within seconds, it unfolded itself and lied flat on the table. Oswald was slightly taken aback, but smiled at his friend's ingenuity, before saying, "Well…yes, there you go!"

There was a slight click of the door, after which both Ed and Oswald glanced in Sylvia's direction. The guard was gone, and she was alone. She grinned broadly at the gentlemen before prowling over to the table and sitting in a chair that the guard had only moments ago placed beside Oswald, thinking that she'd sit in it. He had not been mistaken.

"Where did the guard go?" Ed asked.

"I told him to get a cup of coffee," Sylvia responded nonchalantly. "I said I would make sure nothing bad would happen. Weren't you there when I said all of this?"

"And he believed you?"

"I can be very persuasive. I just hate when people stand over me. Like a teacher just hovering. Gets on my nerves."

"Huh."

Sylvia glanced at the object sitting in front of him and said curiously, "Oz, wasn't that—"

"He solved it," Oswald answered, smiling at her.

"How do you put it back together?" She questioned, taking the 'box' and placing it in front of her. She started fiddling with it, and soon became absorbed in its mechanics.

"It was a lovely thought," Ed commented.

"And did you get the biscuits?" Oswald asked, concerned. "And the sweater? I know how drafty the rooms can be—"

"—Mr. Penguin—"

"—Oswald—"

"—When I think of how I treated you—"

"—Stop…"

"Why are you being so kind to me?" Ed asked in spite of Oswald's command.

Sylvia said distractedly as she fiddled with the toy, "Fuck this thing…how do you…what…"

Oswald and Ed, again, minded Sylvia's presence, glancing at each other with identical expressions of amusement. However, he answered his question thoughtfully: "Talking with you these past few months, I don't know how I would have gotten by otherwise. Fish out there planning who-knows-what. Me, being surrounded by morons and lunatics."

Ed lifted his eyes up to the ceiling and muttered, "I know the feeling."

"Why didn't she kill me when she had the chance?" Oswald pressed worriedly. "I was powerless. She must have a larger goal; I need to know what she is doing."

"I'd like to know that as well." She started stacking the pieces as though they were a deck of cards until they fell out ungracefully, adding, "And how to put this fucking thing back together. This thing didn't come with a pamphlet of directions, did it?"

Ed took the box that was sitting in front of Sylvia and with little indication as to how he knew, he put the box together in five easy steps then placed the box in front of her again. Sylvia gave him a look before she smiled.

"As for Fish," Ed said calmly, "do you really need to know what she's planning?"

"She's out for blood."

"Because Oswald pushed her off a building…"

"Well, that, and I inadvertently killed her mother back in the old days," She explained flippantly. "For all I knew, Fish always said her mother was dead. How was I to know that her mother sung at her club…"

"But you killed her?"

"Without a doubt."

"So, she's after the both of you."

"That's what it looks like," Sylvia sighed, sitting back in her seat. "Personally, I'd like to know just what she's planning..."

"Do you, though?" Ed questioned, and Oswald and Sylvia looked at him, both taken aback by his query.

Silently, Ed tore the gift-wrapping paper in half and then rested his hands under the table so neither of them could see what he was doing. As subtle as his motion was, Sylvia grinned.

"When Alexander encountered the Gordian knot, a knot so complex that no one had been unable to untangle it…he just removed his sword, and cut it in two," Ed narrated with a soft chuckle. "Details can be distracting. Sometimes…a simple solution is best. So, no matter what she is planning, just remember" (Ed revealed his creation by placing an origami penguin in front of Oswald) "Penguins eat fish."

Oswald grinned at the little origami with a child's wonder.

"Basically, you're telling us 'don't worry'." She said quietly, getting to her feet.

"Sit back down." Oswald said patiently.

"I'm tired of sitting. I sit at home, I sit in the car, I sit here—I'm tired of sitting. I'm tired of being tired of sitting…"

"The doctor said—"

"Fuck what the doctor says." Sylvia growled, tapping the table sharply with her hand as she scooted out her chair and started padding the floor restlessly.

Ed glanced between the two of them with an unfamiliar expression which made Sylvia chuckle. Rarely did this man ever appear confused but confusion was all over his face.

"Why can't she stand?" Ed asked, glancing at Oswald. "I've seen her lift a human over her head before and…"

"I'm pregnant." Sylvia explained effortlessly. "Doctor's orders—but given that these doctors work in Gotham, I fail to see the practicality in following their command."

"Oh!" Ed responded, startled. He blinked and said encouragingly, "Well, congratulations. That's good news, isn't it?"

"It's maddening is what it is."

Oswald looked at both Ed and Sylvia, watching the interaction with his subtle suspicion. However, as he observed their conversation, he noticed a few things: Ed made certain not to get within a foot of Sylvia's company, including touching her—maybe that was the consideration on his friend's part…but there was certainly a platonic element there.

"Do you know the gender?" Ed asked curiously.

"That won't be for some time." Sylvia returned, touching her belly thoughtfully. "But we will love it regardless, won't we, Oz?"

Oswald said with a smile, "Yes, we will."

"I'm really happy for you, Liv." Ed returned sincerely. "I'd give you a hug but…the guards don't prefer contact."

"What's contact really."

Oswald watched Ed and Sylvia hug, but despite the sudden hot flash of his own unbridled possession when it came to Sylvia and other men, he found that this feeling of jealousy that had been present in the car was no longer presiding. Sylvia conversed with Ed in the same fashion that she did with any of his staff, including Victor Zsasz…when comparing that friendship with this one, Oswald concluded that what Sylvia had said was true: At least where Sylvia was concerned, she had no romantic feelings towards Ed.

Even if Ed had the same for her, Oswald trusted her.

"Sylvia."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Sylvia turned to Oswald expectantly, and he said with a softness only he could project, "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Sure. I'm going to get a coke."

She touched Ed's shoulder; the latter smiled at her, and said, "It was great to see you again, Liv."

"You too, Ed. Take care!"

He watched her leave.

And now there were two.

Oswald sat in front of Ed, who looked at him with a subtle expectation. They were going to acknowledge the elephant in the room, in spite of its awkward platitude.

"I know what you're going to ask."

"As intelligent as your mind is, I wouldn't be surprised." Oswald returned, smiling in spite of himself. "You do understand why I need to, though, don't you?"

Ed raised a hand as though he was taking the oath in court, saying, "I promise, Oswald. I have no ill intentions towards Sylvia."

"Well, in all retrospect, I didn't expect any 'ill' intentions. The opposite, actually."

"What happened between us—it was a mistake. I have always admired Sylvia for many reasons, and her loyalty is one of them. I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I did, but as I've told her, it won't happen again."

"And I forgive you," Oswald reassured. He smiled again, saying, "It's not like I don't know…when she's on stage, people look at her all the time. It happens so often…She attracts many people…"

"I won't pretend that I don't like her. She's nice. She's been a friend to me more than most people." He cleared his throat, phasing over his fondness for Sylvia. "You won't have to worry about me. There's no 'us'. Especially after I framed her brother."

"Yes, she's told me that more than once."

"We are just friends."

Oswald nodded, letting that news settle. He'd heard it from Sylvia several times, more than enough times, actually. But there was something comforting about hearing it from Ed as well. And he was obviously still apologetic for what happened, especially now as they had become friends.

"So, she managed to get the guard to leave," Ed said conversationally, looking behind him.

"Yes, she has a passion for negotiation."

"She certainly has her way of getting things done."

"That, she does."

"Did she really kill Fish's mother?"

"It appears that way."

"How did she do that per chance?"

"Bullet wound."

"And she didn't know that was her?"

"Apparently not. Sylvia can be impulsive."

"Especially when it comes to the people she cares about. It's actually quite scary, if you think about it. How quick she is about avenging her people."

"It can be intimidating," Oswald said thoughtfully. "One of our staff departed for his own reasons. She has taken it personally."

"Who was it?"

"Mr. Bell."

"The butler?"

"Yes, that was my reaction too. Mr. Bell formed a paternal-like bond with Sylvia and when he left so suddenly, she had something of a negative response."

"No one was hurt, I hope."

"She picked Butch up over her head and threw him into the wall, punched me in the face—we had to sedate her with tranquilizer darts. It was quite the spectacle. And yet, when she found out what happened to her mother, she had no response what so ever. She's unpredictable."

"Her mother?"

"Mrs. Gordon, yes."

"What happened to her?"

Oswald leaned forward and uttered quietly, "Suicide."

Ed's eyebrows furrowed together as he said softly, "That's unfortunate."

"I thought the same."

"How is she?"

"I doubt she cares." Oswald said, shrugging carelessly.

"Well, there it is. She only has violent impulses fit for the people she cares about."

"Yes, it appears that way."

"I can't imagine what she would do if she lost you."

Oswald found that statement a little too close to home but he didn't comment on it. While Oswald considered himself to be on the same level of intellect as his friend, he felt that he was a lot more perceptive than Ed. For a fact, Oswald was certain that Ed was pointing out that while Sylvia did care for her friend, she ultimately cared for him more. And that made Oswald grin modestly.

After all, didn't Sylvia say she loved only him?

That was a comforting thought, indeed. And it made Oswald feel less envious of whatever romantic feelings Ed might have for his wife, if any did remain.

"I suspect you'll be coming by for another visit?" Ed asked, mindful that their time was nearly up—the guards weren't particular about anything but time was always their butt-clenching X factor.

Oswald stood, and Ed did the same.

"Of course. Until then, my friend."

Ed shook it. And for a minute, Ed didn't feel like a prisoner. He had felt like his own man, just meeting with a friend over a business proposition. It only lasted a few more minutes and it was gone when the same guard returned to put him back in his cell, although Ed noticed that the guard was less grumpy now that he had his coffee. The guard simply opened his door, and Ed was free to walk in instead of being thrown forward as the guard might have done on any other occasion. Perhaps that was Sylvia's doing. Maybe not…Ed preferred to think that it was.