Chapter Twenty-Six: Deep Talks In The Night

Oswald watched Sylvia sleep beside him. Normally a light sleeper, Sylvia would often turn in her sleep, hear something go 'bump' in the night, and she'd toss and turn. Most recently, and perhaps more frequently, she would stir. Sylvia said it was because the baby kept moving, tossing and turning much like its mother. And much like its mother, the baby was regularly restless. And not just at night—during the day, too.

If, by chance, Oswald happened to turn on the light when it was pitch black, Sylvia said that the baby moved—the doctors explained that the baby is trying to cover its eyes much like if there was a loud sound, the baby would attempt to cover its ears.

When Sylvia tossed and turned more often in a night, Oswald had started patting her stomach, talking to their unborn daughter, assuring that all was well. Whether or not the baby could hear him was something entirely different, but whenever he quelled it of its restlessness, the baby as well as the mother slept more soundly at night.

And the fact that his baby was responding to him already prior to her even coming into the world—well, that always made Oswald's day.

While he would occasionally wake up after feeling Sylvia move too frequently beside him, changing positions every hour or so because of her leg cramps or backaches she quietly complained about, Oswald's insomnia wasn't due to either of these things.

He was thinking of Demetri.

Sitting up with his back against the headboard, Oswald contemplated telling Demetri to stay somewhere else. His existence—knowing he was under the same roof as him and his family—was intolerable for Oswald…even if Sylvia had insisted Demetri stay in the manor with them.

He'd accepted it because he couldn't ever deny her anything. However, now that the deed was done and Demetri had been integrated into the manor with them, Oswald was frigid at the idea. What if Demetri, born of his own intolerance of Oswald's paranoia, decided to end the interrogative questions at odd hours of the day, and kill them both in their sleep?

The thought had occurred to Oswald, so surely, Demetri would have already thought of this once before. And if he'd not thought of it before, what would keep the stray from getting to that same conclusion?

Oswald glanced at Sylvia, who mumbled some of the oddest things while in her dreaming state. He'd only caught a few words, but she mentioned pickles, a small blurb about meat pies, and a murmured statement of 'I don't want that mattress…'.

Again…some of the oddest things.

She lied on her back now, and her baby bump peeked from underneath her black night shirt. She was showing now—no mistake about that. She didn't quite waddle around and she could still bend over to pick things up—Sylvia was versatile in that way.

He'd gone to her club on a Friday night, listened to her sing, and when after the duty hours had ended, Oswald had watched her lead a few new dancers in the choreography she'd come up with during her own sleepless nights. While she was showing, Oswald noticed that it didn't stop her from keeping up with her night club or her passion for sing and dance. She was just as flexible and energetic when she wasn't carrying a baby!

"Mmm….those are my cookies…not…yours." Sylvia murmured. (Cookies and pickles…this woman's appetite was all over the place.). "Mmmfromthejarmm..."

Forget killing Demetri tonight, Oswald thought. Perhaps he was getting a little too paranoid. Not that anyone could blame him, right? He was ruling the Underworld, and was a father-to-be. All he wanted was to make sure that no one was out to hurt his family…

When he felt Sylvia's hand on his knee, he was pulled out of his reverie, glancing down at her face to see that she was awake—a still little sleepy, but otherwise, her eyes were open.

"What are you doing, Sweetheart?" Sylvia asked tiredly.

"Thinking." He answered vaguely.

"About?"

"You know what about."

"Oh, that old gem." Sylvia mused sleepily. She yawned, and put her hands over her stomach, patting the spot above her bellybutton.

"Did she wake you?" Oswald asked.

"Her head is right on my fucking bladder. And she kicked me in the ribs…just when I was starting to sleep well, too."

"Dreaming about cookies and pickles—I can't imagine wanting to wake up from that." Oswald teased, smirking when her eyebrows rose up to her forehead. "Turns out you talk quite a bit in your sleep too, darling."

"Mmm." Sylvia all but responded. She sat up, putting her back against the headboard. Pointedly, she took her own pillow and placed it between her back and the headboard, minding the position before turning to him. "I thought you had the discussion with Demetri."

"I did."

"So, what's the issue?"

"I'm worried." Oswald answered calmly. "He's sleeping under the same roof as me. I find it hard to sleep knowing that."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Of course not."

"Did he seem like he was going to hurt me?" Sylvia asked.

"No."

"So why fret?"

"He's a known traitor, Pet. Knowing that alone isn't exactly reassuring."

Sylvia rubbed her head, looking like she was in pain before she said softly, "If you think he's conspiring against you, then tell him to sleep somewhere else."

"I'm not worried about him turning against me. It's your safety I'm worried about," Oswald said vehemently. "At any moment, he could come in and finish what Delilah started. If you're telling me that thought has never occurred to you—"

"Oz, the thought has occurred to me. But I'm not thinking too much on it."

"You trust him, then?"

"Not yet, but I want to."

"So you'll sleep here needlessly alarmed until you can trust him?" Oswald returned skeptically. "That doesn't sound anything like you."

"He can't prove himself if we don't allow him the chance to do just that." Sylvia explained, rubbing her head again. "I'm trusting my gut on this one."

"Like you trusted the other two girls?"

"Brittany was weak; Delilah was misguided."

"Both traits of which Demetri seems to share with them, mind you." Oswald reminded unhappily. He glanced at the direction of their bedroom door, adding, "Knowing there's even the slightest chance of our throats getting slit in the middle of the night—"

"So kill him, then." Sylvia sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with the heel of her palms.

"You wouldn't stop me?"

"I wouldn't stop you," she assured. "But if it makes any difference, I really, really, really doubt that Demetri is sitting in bed thinking of ways to end our lives. If anyone is the most nervous in this house, it'd be him. Last I checked, he was sleeping like the dead."

"You went to check on him?"

"After how much you scared him, I felt obligated to. He's afraid that you'll hunt him down and kill him in his sleep. Your intimidation practices…" She chuckled, shaking her head a little.

"You said you liked me scaring him."

"And I did—it turned me on, but I also had to make sure he wasn't going to die from a post-threat heart attack," Sylvia said with a smile. "When I checked on him, he was sleeping like a baby…which, now that I think on, I don't know why people use that phrase. Our baby has been just squirming all fucking night."

"Try singing to her," Oswald suggested.

"Why?"

"The doctors said it would calm her, remember?" He said pointedly. "It's written in all the books you bought, you might want to consider reading them too, you know."

"Okay, Father of the Year. Don't bite my head off," Sylvia returned, although she smiled in spite of herself. "When I bought those books, I didn't think you'd be reading them front and back."

"What else would I have done with them?"

"I don't know, throw them in a fire, maybe?"

"Why on Earth would I have done that?"

"I don't know," Sylvia said, leaning her head back against the headboard. "I'm not thinking straight…I'm too tired."

Oswald had a handful of the bed covers in his hands, and he fidgeted with them before Sylvia spoke again.

"I wanted to thank you," she said.

"For?"

"Not killing Fish."

"Yes, about that…"

"What?" Sylvia asked, her eyes closed as she rested.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened while you were in the building with her. As her hostage." Oswald stated calmly. "She didn't hurt you any, did she?"

"Nope. In fact, she seemed hell bent on me not being harmed in any way, shape, or fashion." Sylvia returned, looking at him. "Fish isn't the same person she was before—she's different. Deadlier, I think, but more different. I kind of like her for that. Before this time around, she wanted my head. When I saw her, she looked like she wanted the same thing but she called me 'baby girl' when all was said and done."

"Did she, now."

"Don't sound so disappointed." Sylvia said lightly. "She may not have always been the best boss in town, but back then, I'd have done anything just to hear her call me that."

Oswald didn't say anything in response..

Sylvia suddenly gasped, and Oswald looked at her, startled. She chuckled, putting a hand on her side, "She's kicking me again."

"Well, she's a fighter." Oswald chortled.

"Wanna feel?"

"Sure."

Oswald scooted closer to her. Sylvia took his hand and placed his palm over her right side, just above her waistline, which had slowly been disappearing as the baby grew bigger within. At first, there was nothing, but Oswald smiled to himself when he felt what might have been a little foot meet his palm. It was so fucking sweet that it nearly brought him to tears.

"She knows it's her daddy," Sylvia whispered, kissing Oswald's cheek. "She's getting bigger…frankly, so am I. My waist is becoming something of a myth; I've gained ten fucking pounds."

"Maybe it's the cookies and pickles," He teased.

"Oh, nowyou've got jokes!" She returned, smirking at him. "If you're not careful about what you eat, babe, you'll be gaining another ten pounds too."

"Touche, my dear."

"If you want an appetite suppressant, I'll share my secret." Sylvia said, shuddering slightly. "The gynecologist gave me some birthing videos to watch so I know what to expect, and—let's just say—they're not the most flattering things. I've cut a man open from the stomach down and watched his intestines and other vital organs fall on my shoes, but these videos make me want to be sick."

"What are they about?"

"Child birth—the labor, the screaming, and what will be me in another four or five months, give or take a few weeks. Speaking of screams…Did you visit Ed any in the past couple of weeks?" asked Sylvia.

"Not recently. I'm given to understand that you have?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And how was he?"

"He's a little more…what do you call it… 'acclimated'." Sylvia explained, nibbling on the inside of her cheek after finding the word best to describe him. "Oswald, when you were in Arkham, did you find it hard to sleep?"

"At first…but the screaming becomes something of a white noise after a while," Oswald answered seriously.

"Poor Ed…all alone."

"Being 'alone' isn't the worst part, trust me," Oswald reassured. "It's when the guards take you out of the cell to be a part of the social gathering that comes after. Being surrounded by lunatics, morons, and the idiotic staff—that was the hardest part…and being away from you."

Sylvia beamed, saying, "That's sweet of you to say, Ozzie."

Oswald moved to sit on his knees, facing her. Sylvia looked at him, curious of his behavior.

"I have to tell you something," He told her cryptically. "It's something I've been holding onto."

"What is it?"

"You're aware that there was a restraining order that I had signed," Oswald said unhappily. "An order that prohibited you from visiting me, and restricted any form of communication to coincide between us."

"You said you didn't remember why you'd signed it." Sylvia recalled, nodding with understanding. "That wouldn't surprise me, seeing as how Strange was—"

"No, that's just it."

"What is?"

Oswald said darkly, "I don't even remember signing anything."

Sylvia frowned, saying, "You don't?"

"I don't. In fact, everything from that time in Arkham is abstract, a blur, a dream—one that I couldn't escape." Oswald said quietly, glancing down at his hands. "Being away from you was painful. Had I remembered signing anything to keep you away from me, that'd be one thing. The fact that I did it without even remembering…"

He looked as though he was being torn apart. Sylvia took his hands in one of hers, and then touched his chin so that his eyes were gently coaxed to meet her own.

"Oswald, don't torture yourself."

"I didn't want to be away from you." He said adamantly. "I never wanted that."

"I know."

"And what came after—the things I said—"

"Baby, you already apologized. That's enough." Sylvia told him gently. "Strange fucked with your mind—he's a psychiatrist with an incredible sense of accomplishment, but his job is getting into people's heads. Signing that restraining order, saying what you did when you were brainwashed—I don't feel like any of that is an indicator of how you truly feel for me."

"Sylvia, everything I've done—"

"Shh."

Oswald looked at her uncomfortably, like he had plenty more to say. Instead, Sylvia kissed him, and he fell into that kiss, more than eager to feel comforted by her soft words.

"Here's what I know." Sylvia murmured. "You make me feel safe when I'm around you. You did everything you could to keep Gertrud safe—even though things didn't work out the way they should have, even with all the things you've endured, you've still allowed yourself to feel, to love. I can feel that, and your actions speak for themselves. I mean, you went to Arkham to keep me from going to Black Gate, and you've done everything in your power to protect me."

"Sylvia…"

"And," She continued, caressing his face between the palm of her hands, "I know you'll do the same thing when our daughter is born. Everything you do, you do with love. That's what I know, and that's all I care about."

Oswald smiled in spite of himself, saying, "Not in this lifetime or in the next will I ever truly understand how lucky I am to have you."

"Don't be so fucking modest, honey. You got me like you've gotten everything else," Sylvia told him. "You chased me."

"So has every other man or woman," Oswald reminded.

"Yeah, but you did it with class. And that makes all the difference in the world." Sylvia said, winking at him. "Plus, it's hard to find a gentleman, never the less one who's driven by their emotions rather than their crotches. I wouldn't have enough hours in the day to list all the people who came at me with their dicks first."

"Well, with that settled, I might take a nightcap." Oswald chuckled, shuffling out of bed. "Do you care for one?"

"If the nightcap is a cup of tea, I'd love some." Sylvia returned, smiling.

"Sugar and honey?"

"You know me well enough, surprise me."

"I can surprise you with no tea."

"That would be a surprise," Sylvia chortled. "Nice callback."

"I thought so too," Oswald giggled. "I'll be right back. Love you."

"As I love you."

He beamed at her before leaving the bedroom. Sylvia repositioned her pillow and leaned against the headboard again. After a moment had passed, she said aloud: "You can come out now."

Opening the closet door, Demetri stepped out, looking more or less relieved.

"See?" Sylvia said, gesturing to the door through which Oswald had left.

"You gave him permission to kill me, though." Demetri reminded. "That's not helping me."

"He doesn't want to kill you—as long as you don't give him a reason to."

"You're pretty forthright when it comes to talking to him."

"Shut up, Demetri. I let you hide in the closet because you were afraid that he'd come to your bed and stab you in the face." Sylvia stated. "Now that you hear he's not out to rip your heart from your chest, you should be able to sleep in your own damn bed now…You didn't do anything while you were waiting in there, did you?"

"Like?"

"Like what a man would obviously do if I was laying in bed, asleep."

"I wasn't…jacking off...or anything, if that's what you're wondering." Demetri said uncomfortably.

"Well, that's a blessing in disguise, isn't it?"

"He does suspect me though."

"Of course he does. We all do, frankly. He doesn't want to kill you though because you've defected before. He just wants to make sure I'm safe. That we both are," Sylvia said, touching her belly. "This was my way of showing you that. Do you see that at least?"

"You couldn't have set up a meeting or something? That might have resulted in the same outcome."

"Like an intervention? Please…"

"It wouldn't have worked?"

"It wouldn't have, trust me. Oswald is as an honest criminal as they come, but he isn't sentimental when it comes to the staff," Sylvia stated. "That's why I had you hide, so he didn't know you were here, so that he would be as honest with me about you as possible. Now that you have your proof, I hope that you can sleep a little easier."

Demetri nodded, saying, "I doubt any other boss would have done this for me."

"You're definitely right about that." Sylvia said calmly. "That said, I suggest you get going. If Oswald comes back and sees you in the bedroom with me without a shirt on, you're more liable to get shot now than any other time."

"Right. Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't mention it. And son..."

Demetri glanced at her expectantly.

"Everything that you heard here doesn't go past that door, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Get going."

Demetri quickly left the room, and Sylvia stood, closing the closet door. As she did, she heard Oswald enter the room, his feet shuffling the carpet.

"I saw Demetri in the hallway." He noted.

"He's as restless as the rest of us. Apparently, no one can sleep in this house."

Oswald joined her in bed, handing Sylvia her cup of tea, to which she gratefully thanked him. After they had their nightcap, sleep came easier.