Chapter Twenty: Move, Baby, Move

Oswald stood outside his mansion in what could be seen as his backyard. In the night time, it looked like something from a horror movie, but in the day, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Lush green grass, a cluster of trees that led one to the open thickness of the forest yonder. The sun was hidden by the abundance of marshmallow, puffy clouds. It was a rare treat to see a sunny-like day in Gotham…most of the time, it seemed to look as though it had either suffered a monsoon or it was just bout to rain.

The hunt for Fish Mooney hadn't quite lost its appeal; however, after talking with Ed, worrying over someone as elusive as her was taking time out of his schedule—time that he didn't have. He'd been anticipating her capture for so long and so intensely; he'd even missed Sylvia's appointment with the baby doctor. Allegedly, it had gone well as Sylvia informed him over the phone…but Oswald could detect her passive-aggression effortlessly.

She was upset that he'd missed the appointment, but there was something else in her tone. 'The baby's doing fine, just so you know…not that you care…' she had said. Lord, he'd have to be an ignoramus to not hear the resentment!

Normally, he could take her wasp-like candor, especially after having missed the appointment. Normally, Sylvia was understanding of his schedule, the way Gotham's Underworld's problems affected both his personal life as well as his business. But perhaps he'd taken that for granted…? Then again, he wasn't so unaffected by the pregnancy either, was he?

While Sylvia carried his child, Oswald noticed a change in himself as well. Mood swings weren't new to him, but his own irritability was just off the charts. He read nearly more than half the books Sylvia had picked up from the libraries and book stores about women's pregnancy, child stages, labor, but only found one thing to explain his sleep deprivation and physical exhaustion: Couvade Syndrome. It sounded ridiculous when he read that men could experience pregnancy symptoms: insomnia, mood swings—that was all him, right on the paper.

Still…

Reading those books had given him a headache and thinking on his own problems made him just a little resentful towards Sylvia. Not that it was her fault, right? They both made the baby—hell, he was there for it…but this wasn't something he'd ever thought he had to experience!

He was out of his depth, that was for sure!

A breath of fresh air would do the trick, he thought. It'd clear his head, get him out of his worry zone and when Sylvia came home, they'd have an open discussion about what the next step would be in their journey together. Or so he felt.

In the time that passed, Sylvia didn't come home as quickly as he'd expected. Instead, she was two hours late getting back. And she hadn't even called.

The sun was nearly set. When she met him on the veranda, Oswald was seated in a patio chair, tie loosened, collar relaxed, and he drank a cup of tea with mild contentment. She came up the patio stairs with a distant look on her face, one that he'd seen often in the past few days, but nothing that worried him too badly. She was silent, even as she pulled a lawn chair up to him and sat across from him.

"You're late."

"So, I am."

"Are you all right?"

"Peachy." Sylvia answered, crossing her arms. "How was your day?"

"Busy. Yours?"

"I found out who Delilah was in cahootz with."

Oswald suddenly looked at her, surprised. There goes his care-free feeling that had only been in place for a few minutes. And he'd been happily basking in it only for a second.

Worried, he sat up slightly, placing the cup of tea on the end table beside him.

"And?"

"It was Demetri."

"Oh." He scoffed. "I see—the man you picked up off the streets."

"The same."

"Is he dead?"

"No, but he's in the hospital."

"Was it your doing?"

"For once, it was not." Sylvia said smoothly, smiling in spite of the situation. "He did it to himself. He, quite literally, took out an artery to prove that he was still loyal to me. However, he did confess to working with Delilah, an attempt to overthrow me and possibly end my life as well as yours."

Oswald looked at her for a moment, at first pleased with her answer and yet, quite surprised, then confused.

Slowly, he said, "So…let me get this straight, just so I know I'm not misunderstanding you by any means."

"Sure…"

"This homeless person you picked off the streets—like a stray—starts working for you. You trust this person enough to take a job within your establishment. Out of nowhere, seemingly, he decides to take up arms with another one of your associates who betrays you, admits to having done the same, and yet…He's still alive."

"That's right."

Oswald gestured to her.

"That is unacceptable."

"So, you'd prefer that I killed him?"

"I prefer that you eliminate any chance of him trying to kill you." He resounded unhappily, gesturing to her more emphatically. "You have, literally, an army at your disposal, a team that is deadlier than the GCPD could ever hope to train, and yet, you keep this stray alive for what reason exactly?"

"You're being condescending, you know that, don't you?"

"I'm just trying to understand your motive for keeping this man alive."

"He said he didn't realize what Delilah's end game is."

"And you believe him?"

"I believe he was misguided, yes, I do. Delilah was manipulative—"

"—How manipulative could she be, she was a waitress—"

"I was a waitress before, hello!" Sylvia snapped, glaring at him. She stood, adding, "And Delilah fooled me too, just so we're clear. She pretended she was innocent, afraid—"

"So, all it takes is for someone to plea and cry and it's all over; is that what you're telling me?"

"She was scared, Oswald! She wanted to go to the doctor to find out if she was pregnant; it's a scary thing doing it alone for the first time after an uncomfortable experience—not that you would know!"

"She was lying, Sylvia. I figured that it would have been made obvious to you."

"Well, obviously, it wasn't." Sylvia responded hotly. "You want to make this about my naivety, then fine—be my fucking guest, but I'll be damned if I'm going to stand here and let you talk down to me like I'm some simpleton who doesn't do shit about a betrayal when I see one. Because frankly, you know I did. She's dead now, buried five feet under the ground or whatever those people did with her after taking everything off her corpse. She's dead and rotting—that's enough for me."

"And what about this Demetri?" Oswald questioned, standing as well.

"What about him?"

"He's doing the same thing Delilah did. And you're letting him fool you!"

"I'm giving him a second chance! He carved his arm open to prove a point—I think that warrants a little credit, don't you think?"

Oswald rolled his eyes, pressed two fingers over the bridge of his nose, and muttered, "This is unacceptable."

"If you want to go the hospital and do the deed yourself, be my guest. He's in ICU, room 240. Have at it." Sylvia said dryly. "Delilah was a bad apple—I won't deny that. But Demetri has something that not a lot of our people possess and that's humility, and the balls to back it up. He was ready to die just to prove that he was loyal to me. Now, I don't know about you, but there's no way I would have done that for anyone unless I was being fucking serious about it. How could he lie after that?"

"You have no idea how much danger you're putting our child through, do you?"

Sylvia stared at him before saying dangerously, "I'm going to give you five seconds to take all of that back."

"Demetri is going to be trouble, and you know it."

"He's also going to make one hell of an ally, but you don't see it."

"Perhaps I should go to the hospital, pay him a visit."

"Then go!" Sylvia snipped, motioning harshly in that direction. "For fuck's sake, go. Kill him, maim him, do whatever the fuck you want, Oswald—I told you, be my guest. But I think it's some fucking excuse. You've been going after Fish this entire fucking time with no results, so when Demetri shows his true colors, you see it as an opportunity to do something about it because it's the only thing you can do."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You can't do a goddamn thing about anything or anyone!" She said starkly. "You're trying to keep me safe, but you can only do so much! You won't allow me to go to the meetings, fearing that people are going to notice that I'm starting to show. I've not gone on any contracts with Zsasz because you think someone's going to one-up me in some gun toting battle, even though I've proven myself more than capable several times in the past! You're naturally protective of me—more than ever since Gertrud passed away: I get it, and I understand that, but it's starting to suffocate me, Oz!"

Oswald stared at her, taking all of it in but not really knowing just how to respond to all of what she said.

"I'm trying to…" He began, but he wasn't sure what to say or how to convey what he wanted.

Sylvia sat down, her hands on her belly rubbing in concentric circles in consolation. Oswald noticed, and he watched her curiously. She suddenly smiled in spite of their argument, and it made him more curious.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked uncertainly.

Sylvia looked up at him.

"Come here."

He did as she asked and he watched her with growing interest as she pointed to the left side of her stomach. She guided his hand there, and when he poked the soft smooth ball of her stomach, the little bulge that had been seated inside of her womb suddenly disappeared as though the baby had felt it and had wriggled away. Sylvia put his hand on the other side; Amused, Oswald poked her again and the baby quickly moved to the other side.

"Fascinating." Oswald murmured.

"A little escape artist," Sylvia said quietly, smiling inwardly as Oswald poked the other side so the baby wriggled away again.

"I'd say so."

"It only took a few months. The doctor said that in the next few weeks, we may get to hear the heartbeat. I'd hope you come along with me on that visit."

Oswald nodded in agreement, then he felt a little guilty for snapping at her.

"Sylvia," He said gently. "You realize that I'm not trying to be overbearing…Don't you?"

"I know you're not." She reassured, now that her temper was diminished. "But, sweetheart" (She folded his hand in between her palms) "you need to realize that I'm not someone who can be easily caged. I need my freedom. I need to be able to do what I want, when I want. Gotham is Gotham, remember?"

"Having someone like Demetri prowling about has not made it any easier, Pet."

"Then talk to him. If it will give you peace of mind, I insist."

"You really do believe he has changed, don't you?"

"I believe he's on that path. Currently, I'm still developing that trust—so for the time being, you can count that I won't be left alone with him anytime soon."

"Now, that is a comforting thought." He said, smiling. "When is the next appointment?"

"Next Friday."

"I'll be there. I promise."

"Good." Sylvia returned, grinning. "Maybe we'll even find out if it's going to be a boy or girl. I can finally start finding some cute little onesies."

Oswald made a sound and she said knowingly, "Oh don't give me that look! You're going to be looking at baby clothes more than me."

He said nothing but he couldn't deny that she was probably right.