Chapter Nineteen: Delilah's Accomplice

Back at her club, Lean on Vee, Sylvia was serving her people alongside Demetri Byrd, who had steadily become an expert in throwing unruly regulars out when the time called for it. Now that Delilah was out of the picture, Sylvia was down one bartender, so naturally, she fit herself in the spot. While the customers looked too honored to be served a drink by their own Patron, Demetri noticed how relaxed his boss appeared, considering this could be a thankless job, sometimes.

As Sylvia handed one of her rougher Regulars a beer, Demetri leaned his right side against the bar, watching her with a subtle expression of amusement and something else.

"What're you smiling at?" Sylvia asked.

"You."

"Why?"

"You like this job, don't you?"

"Like it, maybe not, but I've done this job long enough—it fits me like a glove," Sylvia returned flatly. She wiped the bar counter down with a new wash cloth, glancing its polished surface, before crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him plainly. "Back in the old days, I used to be a barmaid and a waitress."

"Do you miss the old days?"

"Which ones?"

Demetri smiled modestly: "When you were a bartender."

"Working under Fish, I didn't mind it so much. Working under Maroni—it was fun at first, but it became intolerable after a time."

Demetri's expression changed from that of amusement to one of puzzlement as he said slowly, "But I thought you hated Fish."

"She and I were like a mother-daughter team until the point when she hurt my husband and tried to kill me more than once. Even now, the mere thought of her gives me some bittersweet feelings—I almost miss her…almost."

Demetri shifted uneasily on his feet, like something was bothering him. Sylvia glanced him over.

"Are you alright, kid?" She asked carefully.

"Pretty good, yeah, why?"

"Just asking. You look a little nervous."

"I'm not nervous—I mean, your people make me nervous, but you know…you don't."

Demetri glanced at Dagger and Chilly who were guarding the doors with a leery gaze.

"Hm."

"Why? Does that bother you?"

"I don't care if I make you nervous. However," Sylvia said slowly, every syllable being enunciated with accentuated suspicion, "you've been acting very odd since Delilah left."

"You mean 'was killed'."

"Yes, that's what I meant. I didn't think I had to say it though for you to understand."

"Delilah was one of the older ones," Demetri said quietly. "She had a place here, Miss Sylvia. A way of being almost permanent. One night, she leaves the bar, and then she's dead the next day. That'd make anyone nervous."

A brief moment passed between them during which Sylvia stared at him for the longest time, and Demetri was shifting his weight interchangeably from one foot to the other, like he couldn't stay in one place for too long.

"Is something wrong?" He asked uncertainly.

Sylvia clicked her tongue and said calmly, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. But you know…Delilah wasn't alone in trying to undermine me, Demetri. She had an accomplice, a partner, if you will. Someone close to her, someone like a boyfriend, maybe just a friend—who knows. Due to my mistakable impulse, I failed to see the full picture. That was until someone pointed it out to me. I could have found out through her who her co-conspirator was, but I didn't."

Demetri frowned as he lowered his head submissively, muttering, "I don't mean any disrespect, Miss Sylvia, but why are you telling me this?"

"You're perceptive, enough. Smart enough, even. Maybe you can tell me."

"You suspect someone on the inside?"

"Yes. I do. That's not a comforting thought for me, is it?"

"I'd say that isn't good business for anyone, Ma'am."

"You got that fucking right."

"So how do you find out if there's a second person?"

"No 'if'. I know Delilah had someone else," Sylvia stated calmly as she made a few more drinks for the customers who'd sauntered up to the counter for seconds.

She greeted them with a warm smile, but the moment they turned their backs, her frustrated hard smile returned as she looked at Demetri, who managed a small smile of his own, however worrisome and complex.

"It can be anyone. Someone close enough to Delilah; she felt comfortable enough talking to them about me, about getting rid of me at least…Tell me, Demetri. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"I don't, Ma'am."

"No one you suspect that would want to take me on?"

"I can't imagine…"

"You'd be surprised." Sylvia said, cracking a genuine grin. "Perhaps I'm being paranoid, huh?"

"I wouldn't blame you for it."

"No? Why?"

"You have a lot on your plate," Demetri explained as he gave a drink to another customer, turning to her only after they left. "You've got this place to run, not to mention doing whatever it is you do with the meetings and the Underworld. It's a lot."

"So I have your sympathy, is that it?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it that. But yeah. And my respect."

Sylvia eyed him carefully, trying to size him up.

"Perhaps I'm thinking of this all wrong."

"Meaning?"

"I'm trying to find flaws within my own ranks," Sylvia muttered, rubbing her face. "It's driving me insane…perhaps Delilah knew she was being watched, so she made up a story, a way of making my spy think she had someone else on the phone. It'd distract me from the bigger picture, enough for someone else who was waiting patiently by the side lines to come in and stab me in the back while I'm running circles trying to find someone who's not even real…just made up."

"That's crazy," Demetri exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.

"But it's doable. In Gotham, everything is."

"Delilah was smart but not that smart."

Sylvia looked at him pointedly saying, "You knew her that well, did you?"

"Well enough, I'd think. We worked together frequently, Miss Sylvia."

"And yet, you believe you know her so well not to come up with some convoluted plan to overthrow me?"

"Maybe I'm just perceptive—you said so yourself."

Sylvia nodded, considering this. She'd told him that before, hadn't she? Demetri was quiet, often times, soft spoken. In fact, he reminded her a great deal of Oswald back when he was serving Fish her umbrella. Oswald had behaved like a submissive sycophant around her, but—as Fish learned—there was a whole other side to him. Sylvia looked at Demetri for the longest time, a nerve being poked too often that her mind was turning gears, and the suspicion that tugged on her gut was more than she could bear.

"Come with me." Sylvia ordered dryly.

Startled by her command, Demetri flinched. Seeing as how he could do little to distract her, Demetri nodded. Like a man walking to his death, he followed her up the stairs to her office. After he entered, Sylvia closed the door behind her and she gestured to the seat where he slowly sat. Sylvia leaned her backside against the front edge of her desk, her arms crossed over her chest as she peered down at him from heavy eyelids, staring at him so hard that Demetri was starting to sweat under her icy gaze.

"We're going to put some honesty between us," Sylvia said calmly, although her tone was sharper than any time he'd listened to her.

"Yes, Ma'am, but—"

"You've been behaving strangely, ever since Delilah was killed. You've been walking on egg shells around me, and even then, you've been giving me compliments out of the wazoo, agreeing with me on whatever I say, so one has to wonder: What is your deal?"

"Deal? I have none."

"Not with me, at least."

"Ma'am?"

She leaned forward, her hands steadily gripping both arms of Demetri's chair; the latter leaned back, intimidated by her strong presence.

"Were you close to Delilah?"

"Well…"

"Answer the fucking question."

"Ma'am, we were close, but I don't—"

"—Close enough to be lovers, I bet."

"Not lovers…"

"Cut the crap. You're the second person," Sylvia breathed, her eyes glowering dangerously at him. "Aren't you, Demetri?"

"Ma'am, you've got this all wrong, I swear to god—"

She straightened and immediately backhanded him. Demetri gasped, grabbing his face from where she'd slapped him; a red handprint flush on his right cheek. He slowly looked at her, innocent in appearance, stricken with uncertainty and fear.

"You are Delilah's accomplice, aren't you?"

"Miss Sylvia, I'm not!"

"Tell me why you've been acting so fucking strange then!" Sylvia snapped, glaring at him. "Tell me why you've been so eager to learn the ropes! Tell me why Dagger and Chilly—both of them—have come to me and said that you've been asking questions about the business—"

He held up his hands and whimpered, "M-Miss Sylvia, I swear—I swear to you, I'm not working against you!"

"You're just working for me, right?"

"Yes!"

"Mm-hmm…" She responded, unconvinced. "I've grown tired of these betrayals. Every day it's something. Every week, it's someone. It's really exhausting. And just with Delilah, I didn't expect you to…After all I've done for you, you would betray me like this."

She walked around so she stood behind her desk, opening a drawer.

Fearful that she was searching for the means to end his life, Demetri suddenly fell out of the chair and then crawled on his hands and knees over to her; he clasped his hands together, and looked up at her, pleading.

"Miss Sylvia…Miss Sylvia, please. Please believe me—look, look! I confess, I admit that Delilah and I were close, but we were just friends, just friends—nothing else. I love you too much, too much to do anything to you, Miss Sylvia, you have to see that! You have to!"

Sylvia watched him, and while her hard expression didn't shift in the slightest degree, he definitely pulled on her heart strings. A man who was on his knees, begging for her forgiveness for a mistake that he allegedly never made—she felt so heartless, and yet, hadn't she been down this road so many times already?

"Prove to me that it wasn't you."

"How can I?"

"That's for you to figure out. Otherwise," She said harshly, "I'm going to take this gun" (She removed the weapon from the drawer through which she'd searched its contents, and pulled it out of its sheath) "and shoot you in the fucking face. Just like I did with Delilah. And no one will be the wiser."

"Oh god—Miss Sylvia, please! Please, please, I'll do anything! Anything, just tell me what I need to do and I'll do it."

Sylvia stared at him, seeing the tears fleetingly leave his eyes and dampen his cheeks. That look of desperation…

"If you asked it of me," Demetri all but stammered, "I-I will do anything, anything—you've done so much for me—"

"And that's what makes this so fucking hard, you know." Sylvia sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "My spy heard Delilah—the bitch mentioned that I'd done so much for her as well…and so much for the other person too. I pulled you out of that dingy coffee shop, gave you a place to stay, a better job, and this is what it's coming down to. Every person I help comes back and bites me in the ass, and I'm getting pretty sick of getting stabbed in the back for being a good person. That's what makes this situation so much harder, you know."

Sylvia opened the barrel, placed a single round in it, and then snapped it shut with the flick of her wrist. Demetri's eyes widened, but that didn't deter him from trying to appeal to her motherly side.

"Miss Sylvia, please." He whispered. His voice slowly gave out as the image of his brains splattered on the wall was becoming much too real. "Please…god, no…fuck, please tell me what I must do to prove that I'm not disloyal. If given the chance, I'd open any artery that you would request of me, I would—god, I would—please just don't kill me!"

Sylvia reached behind her, grabbing a switchblade from the back pocket of her jeans; she pressed the button, the blade shot out of its metal crevice, and she placed it on the desk pointedly—so certain that he was only trying to get her to lower her guard.

"You are Delilah's accomplice. Aren't you, Demetri? You are the person she was working with, planning to uproot all that I've built." Sylvia said knowingly, staring him down painfully. "You can deny it all you want, pretend or what-have-you, but we both know it. Don't we?"

"Miss Sylvia…I'm sorry…"

"Ah!"

She frowned; her eyes widened dangerously and she placed the gun to his head.

"See…he confesses, finally."

"Miss Sylvia, please…we didn't—I was wrong, I didn't realize—I was…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…Please…"

"I took you in, treated you like a son, and what did—oh my god, now I see why Fish was furious…" She clicked the gun so that the safety was back on, and she added, "I'm having a major De Ja Vu over here…Well…this certainly has given me more respect for the bitch."

Demetri stared up at her, uncertain as to what would happen.

"Sylvia—"

"I know, you're sorry, blah, blah, blah. I've heard this before. It doesn't change the facts though, does it? You betrayed me, and now, I must kill you."

"Delilah pulled the wool over my eyes, Miss Sylvia—now that she's gone, I see things differently."

"If that's true, that's good, but what's to stop you from having the wool pulled over your eyes a second time?" She remarked unhappily. "Once a traitor, always a traitor."

"I'm still useful to you!"

"How?"

"I'm smart—"

"If you were 'smart', you'd have never turned against me."

"I can still be valuable."

"How."

It was a question as Demetri heard it. She was skeptical, and her current mood was revealed to him in all but name: voice, expression, and the subtle click as she cocked the hammer of the gun and was on the verge of killing just another traitor.

"Delilah was power-hungry! She was going to go after anyone and everyone who had power—not just you, but-but Penguin, and anyone else! She was gonna do whatever she could—whatever was necessary—I didn't believe in that, I didn't want that, I tried to stop her…"

"You had every chance to come to me," Sylvia responded curtly; her harsh tone made Demetri flinch. "But you didn't! What does that make you!"

"I'm begging you…please forgive me, please! I was stupid—a moron, but I know now…Please, what must I do to earn your forgiveness, to earn a place back in—"

"You know what you have to do." She said heatedly, gesturing to the switchblade sitting on her desk. "As fickle as your loyalty is, I doubt you've ever…"

Demetri stood, taking her by surprise, but he reached over, grabbed the blade, and slit his right forearm from the inner elbow down to his radial. He screamed bloody murder the entire time; blood splattered onto his face and onto Sylvia once he hit the artery.

"Holy shit!"

Sylvia snatched the knife from him, still in shock. Quickly, the man became incoherent.

"Fuck this, man!" She squeaked.

She grabbed her cell phone, bent down to Demetri as he fell over onto the floor, and dialed 9-1-1. The ambulance came in a hot second.

"What's your relationship to the patient?" The driver questioned.

"I'm his manager, now go."

That seemed to be enough.

Sylvia sat in the ambulance, alongside Demetri whose arm was wrapped in heavy gauze; he underwent a great deal of intravenous pain killers. Meanwhile, the extra EMTs were asking personal questions like whether or not he was allergic to penicillin or any other medication that she was aware of, and what was his blood type. Then the patient was shoved through the hospital feet first through Gotham General's Emergency Room on a gurney, roughly passed from the ER doctor to the ER surgeon and surgery was done to stitch his arm back together before he lost enough blood.

Standing out of the surgery post-operative room, Sylvia nibbled on the fingernail of her pinky.

"Fuck me…" She mumbled.

And here she was, in yet another complex predicament.

On one hand: Demetri confessed to being Delilah's known conspirator, the accessory to what would have been her downfall and—if Delilah had gotten her way—her own and Oswald's demise. She would have been more than justified in killing him.

On the second: Demetri had done what neither Sylvia nor Oswald would have done to prove a loyalty so fierce just moments after betrayal. He literally opened an artery for her, on the spot. And he seemed more than apologetic, after having his mind warped by someone as manipulative as Delilah.

And here she was. She could kill him, or…give him a second chance.

But giving him a second chance would mean turning her back to him just so he could what, one day actually do what Delilah had failed to accomplish? It was so risky, so risky…it'd be one thing if Sylvia had only herself to look after but now, that was no longer the case, was it?

Sylvia put her hands on her stomach. Her hormones were all over the place, sure—the bloating, the nausea, her aversion for foods she once loved—all of it were signs of her body slowly adjusting to holding a human inside. And while Sylvia couldn't feel the baby inside—kicking, camping, watching TV, what have you—Sylvia was more than aware that everything in her life would be centered around it.

"It's okay," She whispered, rubbing her stomach. "It's okay, Little One. Mommy's not going to let anyone harm you…At this point though, I'd say Demetri's okay. Wouldn't you agree?" There was no significant movement, but at this point, the docs said she wouldn't be feeling much of anything…still, a small push in the right direction would have been more than reassuring. Even if it was by only a baby.

Sylvia sat in the waiting room, contemplating her decision.

To kill or not to kill Demetri Byrd, that's the question.

"Getting all Shakespearean up in here," She muttered, rubbing her temples with her index fingers.

"Sylvia?"

That was the doctor's voice. She looked up at him expectantly, standing to her feet.

"You're here for Mr. Byrd, correct?"

"Correct. How is he?"

"He's doing fine. Recovery might take a few weeks, but he's awake if you want to talk to him."

"I'd like to, yes."

"Very well, follow me, please."

Sylvia did as the doctor ordered and she walked behind him, noticing the small delivery rooms of the hospital as well as the nurseries they passed. Curious, she peeked through the window, smiling when a little baby closest to her moved in the slightest bit. A glass window separated them, but the baby's little black hairs and shut eyelids made her grin regardless.

I'll be having one of those, she thought.

It somehow made her situation more complex than simple. As she entered through the doorway of Demetri's hospital room, the doctor explained a few things such as the IV fluids, the medication sitting on the counter, and the bandages in the garbage can, all of which Sylvia immediately understood.

The doctor excused himself when his pager started going off. Sylvia pulled the curtain around the bed, choosing privacy over publicity. Absent-mindedly, she sat on the edge of Demetri's bed; the latter opened his eyes, startled when he saw who she was, and he nearly fell out of bed with the realization.

"Easy! Easy," Sylvia cooed.

"What are you doing here? Why did they let you in?"

"I've been here often enough. Before you call the nurse," She cautioned as Demetri's thumb was on the call button. "I want to tell you…I'm not going to kill you."

"You—wait, you're not?"

"I'm not."

"Why?"

"Mm, now you're suspicious of me." She chuckled at the irony as she patted him on the shoulder. "Not the best feeling, is it?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, not to worry. I'm leaving here in a few minutes—doctor's appointment, that sort of thing, but I just stayed to make sure you were okay, got out of surgery alright with little inconvenience…"

Demetri withdrew his hand from the call button, although he continued watching her carefully. He said just as cautiously, "So you…you're not going to kill me for what I did…for what Delilah…"

"You betrayed me, Demetri. That is never going to change. However, you did something that not even I would have done in your circumstances and, well, to say the least, I'm fucking impressed. I underestimated you, definitely, so I'm thinking Delilah did too."

"Believe me. Had I known what she was going to do, I'd have never gone along with it."

"And what exactly did she have planned?"

"Burning everything of yours to the ground." He said unhappily. "Taking everything that you've ever have and making it hers."

"And what changed your mind?"

"Ma'am?"

"You heard me. Why the change of heart?"

"At first…at first it was because you just killed her. You cared so much for her, I thought."

"I did care for her, a great deal. But what I don't care for are people who lie to me, treat me like a friend and then go behind my back. If knowing that I will kill whomever I need to in order to keep my happiness scared you into your right mind, I'm happy that it did. I've only ever given one other person a second chance, Demetri. And even now, I still don't completely trust him—trust is hard to find in Gotham, you know."

"I do."

"What you did in the office though," She said quietly, "that's something that not a lot of people would have done. And not so adamantly either."

Demetri smiled modestly: "Yeah, well…"

Sylvia touched his shoulder and said lightly, "Get well, get better, I'll see you back at work, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah."

"Good man."

She began to leave but he caught her with a soft sound. She turned to him curiously.

"Miss Sylvia, I really am sorry for what we were about to do." Demetri uttered sincerely. "It was a low-down thing, going behind your back. We were stupid…naive…"

"You made a mistake. We're human. It happens. Just make sure that you don't make the same mistake twice."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'll come by again and see how you're doing."

"Thank you…see you later."

Sylvia nodded, gave him a soft smile, and then she left.