Chapter 29: Bounty
Author's Note: Another thank you to fangirl500 for your review on the last chapter. Here's another one :)
"The baby is doing fine, Mrs. Cobblepot. You're twenty-six weeks in…"
Sylvia recalled what the obstetrician told her. She rubbed her belly gently, feeling the bump beneath her shirt. Demetri was driving her to Jim Gordon's house. The worry she had for Ivy Pepper's disappearance had gone from an unsettling acknowledgement to one of deep concern.
"Your baby's hearing is fully developed…Has she been reacting to sound?" The doctor asked.
"Yes, especially loud ones. Door slams, loud voices…gunfire."
"Gun fire?"
"Hypothetically speaking, of course," Sylvia had quickly responded to assuage the doctor's concern.
"What kind of music do you listen to?"
"Mostly classical. She seems to like Vivaldi and Tchaikovsky."
"She'll move in rhythm with the music. Have you felt it?"
"Yes, I have." Sylvia answered, knowing this to be true. "She likes when either I or her father sing to her."
"That's good to hear. Babies often start having a pattern of sleeping and waking. Have you felt any of this?"
"She wakes up in the middle of the night, sometimes while punching me in the ribs," Sylvia said tiredly, smiling though in spite of her exhaustion. "I think she's something of a night owl."
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"Your daughter is following your habits, Mrs. Cobblepot. If you want to stop that incessant kicking in the middle of the night, I suggest going to bed at a normal time."
"I'll consider it."
"Yes...yes…Are you experiencing any heart burn or indigestion?"
"I've stopped eating tacos—does that help?"
"So that's a 'yes' then."
"Not one for joking, are you, doctor?"
"Not really."
"I can tell."
Sylvia smiled as Demetri put on the radio to assuage the silence. While Demetri had become comfortable in the past month to Sylvia's occasional quiet moments, he seemed unable to tolerate it very long. After adjusting the knob on the radio for a period of time, there was a station that featured more talk than music; this seemed to be a station that Demetri favored out of all of them.
"Is this okay?" Demetri asked nervously.
"It's fine." Sylvia said, nodding.
"Have you considered any names for the child?" asked the doctor conversationally as he slathered cold gel over her stomach and pressed the cold surface of the transducer above her belly button.
"Not yet." Sylvia answered, as she watched the figure of her daughter appear on the CPU display, the essence of arms and legs slowly moving. "We've been a little busy recently."
"It'll get busier when she gets here."
"I know that." Sylvia scoffed.
After a moment of tension-filled silence, the doctor said lightly, "What names do you like, Mrs. Cobblepot?"
"I like Celeste…Allegra…maybe Diana…"
"Diana is nice."
"Diana is a thought. I wouldn't name her that though."
"Why not?"
"That's my mother's name."
"Do I dare to ask why?"
"My mother was a cunt, and she's dead," said Sylvia lightly—her nonchalance regarding the matter made the doctor look at her curiously, although a bit taken aback. "She never wanted children. I suppose that's the difference between us. She didn't want her kids. I do."
"Well, I suppose this baby is lucky then."
"Lucky how?"
"She's going to be born to two people who already love her very much," said the doctor appreciatively. "I couldn't ask for anything more."
Demetri followed the road in central Gotham, his eyes glancing left and right at the cars in front of them, but his glance moved quickly to Sylvia, who was in her own trance. There was no indication that she was watching to make sure he was taking all the right turns, but at the same time, he had no intention of disturbing her.
Still…
"Miss Sylvia, is this the road?" asked Demetri timidly.
Sylvia shook her head, shaking herself out of her own deep reverie, and looked around quickly.
"Take the next left," she said gently. "After, you'll take another left, and then Jim's place is about three apartment buildings down."
"Sure, sure." Demetri responded quickly, slowly turning the wheel as he markedly followed through with her directions.
Sylvia watched the road for a moment before turning to Demetri, saying, "What do you think about this election?"
"What do I think?" He repeated uncertainly. "I'm not…"
"It's not a trick, kid. I just want to know what you think. And please, be brutal."
Demetri chuckled nervously, his uncertainty no more put to rest than his weary thoughts. After turning the next left, he parked a few spaces from the building that Sylvia referenced as her brother's apartment complex, turned off the car, and sat back in his seat, hands still on the steering wheel.
He licked his lips warily, a little perspiration dotting his forehead.
"Well, Miss Sylvia…I think that this election will be one that the people will never forget."
"Wow, what a good answer," Sylvia mused. "A chickenshit one, but a good answer. Come along."
"Do you want me to come in?"
"Not unless you don't want to."
"It's Detective Gordon…he won't mind if I—"
"He's my brother, 'Mitri." (The use of his nickname she'd given him made Demetri smile a little.) "And he's not a detective anymore," said Sylvia carelessly as she opened the door to the complex. "If he has any objection to you being with me…well, it won't matter because I'm not here on pleasure anyway. Just business."
"Business, huh?"
"Yes, so come along."
"Alright." Demetri said, nodding, and he entered through the door right behind her.
They walked a number of stairs, and Sylvia stopped at the door, knocking sharply. There was a shift of movement, then the door opened and revealed Jim Gordon, appearing less than thrilled that Sylvia was popping in again.
"You're here." He said flatly.
"I'm here." She returned, smirking. "Got anyone in there I might need to know about? Are all people dressed and presentable?"
"Don't be coy, Vee. It's just me." Jim said, stepping aside to allow entry to the two people standing at the door. When he locked it, Jim glanced over Demetri, saying, "Who are you, then?"
"Jim, this is Demetri." Sylvia introduced as she sauntered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Demetri, meet the infamous Bounty Hunter, James Gordon."
"Your reputation proceeds you," Demetri said hastily, offering his hand.
"Thanks." Jim grunted, and he shook it although he looked him over again, adding, "You're pretty young…"
"I'm eighteen. An adult."
"You think so, I bet," Jim said hoarsely, nodding respectfully but walking away with wide eyes and a low whistle. "Have a seat. Have…a drink, I guess."
Sylvia smiled innocently as she opened a can of Diet Coke, handing a Dr. Pepper to Demetri, who—after glancing honestly at Jim and once the former detective sent a glance of approval—opened the can and downed three large gulps as though he hadn't drank anything in a few days.
The three sat in the living room, a coffee table separating Jim from his guests.
"So," Jim sighed. "I imagine you're here to talk about Vale."
"About your fuck buddy? No thanks," Sylvia chuckled. "I'm too aware of what you and Miss Thang do on the regular, and I don't care to hear the deets."
"So if you're not here to criticize my relationship with Vale…"
"I'm here on business."
"Business?"
"Yep." Sylvia nodded, after drinking from her can. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"I need you to find someone for me."
"Why don't you get your imps to do it for you?" asked Jim, sending a look of disgruntled animosity towards Demetri who pretended not to see it.
"They have their own work to take care of. And you don't have anything on the pay roll at the moment, do you?" Jim said nothing so Sylvia added, "That's what I thought."
"Who are you looking for?" asked Jim seriously, leaning back in his seat. "Someone who didn't pay you? Maybe someone who popped off?"
"A girl. Ivy Pepper."
"Mario's kid?"
"Mm-hm."
Jim sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Why are you looking for her?"
"It's nothing to do with you, I can promise you that. She was working for me—"
"You have kids working for you!" Jim exclaimed, standing up.
"I have a lot of people working for me recently," Sylvia said calmly as she remained sitting, looking up at him. "Ivy's pretty skilled at spying. It was she, who found out that Delilah was my spy. Strange's monsters came to town, she disappeared. A few months have passed, and she's still missing. I want to know where she's gone, and I want to know who the kidnappers are, if any. For that, I'll pay you." (Jim slowly sat down.) "If I knew what kind of danger she was in, or who might have taken her, I would name my price. Since I don't know the risk, you get to name yours. Fair enough?"
Jim frowned, clenching his fists together as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He peered down at the coffee table, mindful of his own theories about what might have happened to an orphan like Ivy Pepper.
Demetri cleared his throat, leaned to the side so he spoke only to Sylvia, and said, "Do you care if I step out….?"
"Sure. Go to the car. I'll be there shortly." Sylvia empathized, patting his wrist.
He nodded dutifully then left the apartment. Jim looked after him, then turned to her in response.
"Is that the one that cut his arm open to prove something to you?" Jim questioned, obviously unhappy.
"The same."
"I'm guessing he's proven himself to you?"
"To me, yes. Oswald's still a little finicky 'bout him."
"Not to spin it to his credit," said Jim suspiciously, "but I can see why. He doesn't look like a trustworthy type."
"Do any of us, really?" Sylvia responded, understanding. "So far, he's been supportive, very encouraging, and rather helpful."
"Why do you want to find Ivy so badly? Why not try finding her yourself?" asked Jim briskly. "You have all these skells bowing down at your feet, ready to kiss your hand when the opportunities come knocking. If you have them search Gotham far and wide, I'm sure they'd be able to find her—and it'd be cheaper for you."
"You don't give yourself enough credit," chuckled Sylvia, smiling at him despite his patronizing tone. "You used to be a detective. A very good one—still are, if you applied yourself, and got over the fact that you blame the GCPD for whatever happened with Lee…but let's not get into that argument…"
Jim's face fell, and she noticed.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"Lee's back."
"I know she is."
"How do you know?" Jim asked, his expression, blank.
"Harvey told me."
"Harvey didn't tell me." Jim retorted, a little snarl creeping to his upper lip. "I went to the GCPD to get paid and there she was—popped up out of no where."
"He probably didn't want you to know."
"She took the job of M.E. and he didn't think I'd find out," Jim scoffed. "I'm feeling the confidence now."
"Get off the high road, James. We both know how much Lee meant to you, how much she still means to you," said Sylvia darkly. "You want to prove it? tell her now."
"She's got a fiance."
"So? Fuck him. So she has an engagement to attend—Fuck it. Fuck him and fuck anyone who thinks they can stand between you and Lee—you two were the golden couple. Shit, I mean, I thought it would take more than an imprisonment and a miscarriage to break up the two of you!" Sylvia said, getting to her feet and gesticulating to the door. "You want Lee? If you want her—go get her: literally, no one is stopping you. Fuck, you know, she's probably waiting for you to say something to her anyway, you might as well tell her what you feel!"
"It's not like that," Jim said gruffly, standing to meet her—incidentally, looming over her due to their height difference. "She's moved on. So…so have I."
"Yeah, you've moved on," Sylvia returned, unconvinced. "You're fucking a news reporter, hiding in a broken down apartment that barely has any hot water, living paycheck to paycheck by bringing in Strange's experimental left overs, and you say you've 'moved on'."
Jim frowned, looking away, hands on his hips as he strode away from Sylvia for a few minutes.
"You still love her, Jim," said Sylvia, her voice softened. "You're pretending you don't so it doesn't hurt as much but I know you do! Either let her know what you're feeling or…"
"Or what?"
"Let her go."
"I thought you said you came here on business." Jim said gruffly, looking at her pointedly.
"I did. You're the one who brought her up." Sylvia reminded. "My issue is finding Ivy. Yours is telling Lee that you love her before she finally ties the knot with whomever the fuck this guy is. Out of those two problems, which of the two is the easiest to solve first, Detective?"
"They're different issues."
"Maybe. But that doesn't take away from the fact that you're too chickenshit to tell Lee what you really feel because you think she'll reject you. And you leave empty-handed, forever alone in this world or maybe the next—if you believe in that sort of thing."
"I'll want the same amount for finding Pepper as the GCPD pays me for the monsters," Jim barked. "Five-thousand dollars."
"Done." Sylvia agreed starkly.
With the fight looming between them, an argument clearly unresolved and Jim no longer in the mood to indulge, Sylvia started walking out of the apartment, but stopped the moment there was a knock on the door.
"Get behind me." Jim cautioned.
"Don't have to tell me twice."
As she did, Jim approached the door, and opened it. Outside was a man with a top hat placed delicately atop tangles of smooth, wavy medium brown hair, a mustache and well-trimmed beard of the same color. He had the darkest pair of eyes Sylvia had ever seen, and when he addressed Jim, he said happily, "Tea?"
In two hands, he held a thin plastic cup filled with the aforementioned contents. Jim surveyed him with an indifferent expression, then he stepped aside so that the gentleman could enter. When he did, he came in contact with Sylvia, who eyed him suspiciously.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir," the man said with a tone as sincere as his apology. "I did not realize you were entertaining any guests this evening."
"I didn't think I would be either," Jim consoled pleasantly. "Mr. Tetch, this is my sister, Sylvia Cobblepot. Sylvia, this is—"
"Jervis Tetch, the world-renowned hypnotist." Sylvia finished, smirking as she approached him.
Tetch and Jim exchanged curious if not perplexed glances, which amused her.
"My associates tell me you're highly recommended," Sylvia explained. "You dabble in illusions and magic."
"Ah, are your associates Miss Kean and Ms. Galavan, per chance?"
"The same."
"I think they're the most colorful architects of entertainment I've yet to meet."
"That's because you have no one else to compare them to…yet," Sylvia retorted confidently, making Tetch raise an eyebrow provocatively while she moved by him and addressed her brother.
"If you can find her," Sylvia told Jim as she handed a thick envelope, referring to Ivy, "by all means, the sooner rather than later. If you find anything—good or bad—please let me know. Either way, here's the money, so please…full disclosure?"
"Full disclosure." Jim agreed seriously. "And the means?"
"You know me," she said, shrugging her right shoulder. "I'm a 'by any means necessary' kind of gal. But I think you already knew that, Jimmy. Call me, text me—but do let me know, 'kay?"
"Sure thing."
"Mr. Tetch?" She addressed him.
Tetch smiled, saying, "Yes, ma'am?"
"Can I have a business card of yours, or something?" Sylvia asked politely, standing just a few inches away so she could smile up at him. "I might have an opening on Thursday night, a space to be filled. I've heard such great things about you, I figured if you were available you wouldn't mind bringing your illusions to my club."
"I'd be more than flattered." Tetch indulged, sliding a hand inside the innermost pocket of his coat and handing one to her.
She read off the holographic imagery, "'The Great Jervis Tetch: Hypnotist Extraordinaire.' Well…" She smirked up at him. "I hope you didn't just jot that down for advertisement purposes. I expect some showmanship."
"You won't be disappointed." Tetch promised.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Mr. Tetch." Sylvia said, sending him a crooked grin before she smiled sweetly at Jim. "Bye-bye, love you, Jimmy."
"Love you too." Jim returned quickly, smiling when she waved 'bye'. He closed the door, and then turned to see Jervis Tetch mindfully watching him with what could only be described as 'pleasant amusement'.
"That's your sister, Mr. Gordon?" Tetch inquired.
"To both my misfortune and blessings, yes, she is." Jim said cynically as he opened the top of his cup of tea so that he could pour a little whiskey inside. "I hope she didn't put you off. She has a way of making people uncomfortable. Most of the time, it's for her own amusement."
"On a contrary, I find her 'enchanting.'"
"That's a new one." Jim laughed, shaking his head. He looked at Tetch, realized he was serious and he cleared his throat, saying, "How did you find me, Mr. Tetch?"
"You're famous, Mr. Gordon. The fearless Bounty Hunter. It's in the papers, and, clearly, even your family seek out your ability and your counsel."
There was a moment of praise, but then Tetch became more serious, his eyes taking on a darker color; his voice, a tone of dread and arbor.
"I want you to find my sister," He said. "We're very close. We lost our parents at an early age. I became her guardian. But…her condition proved too much for me. I sought help—the worst kind: The fiend, Professor Strange."
"Her condition?" Jim inquired.
"Some poison in her blood. Very rare. Very unique. He took her in. He said she needed 'constant supervision'. He wouldn't let me see her."
"That's not uncommon," said Jim, grudgingly.
"Sir?"
"For a time," Jim explained, "my brother-in-law was placed in Arkham. He was under Strange's care for months at a time. During his stay there, my sister was unable to see her own husband—no matter how insistent or annoying she proved to be, no matter what she did, Strange refused. She's not the first, nor were you, to have that kind of treatment. It's Strange's signature: Not to let family members see the sick or the fragile. It was his code, his way."
"And you approve?"
"Of course, I don't." Jim said calmly. "Did you go to the police by any chance?"
"Useless," Tetch said politely. "This is Gotham, after all."
"You're not the first to say that.".
"The years passed, and I lost hope." Tetch continued further. "But then I heard about the break-out. I assume that my sister escaped with the others. Now she is out there, alone. Afraid."
"Indian Hill escapees are five grand if they get brought to the GCPD. Are you able to top that?"
As though waiting to bring out his weaponry, Tetch easily reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a huge neatly bundled wad of bills, and said assuredly, "I can double it."
More inclined to help a stranger in need, Jim said, "I'll see what I can do!"
"Thank you very much, Mr. Gordon," said Tetch as he handed him the money clip. "You'll be doing me a grand favor. I imagine you understand how it feels as you have a sister of your own."
"With one difference," said Jim humorously. "As you put it, your sister is 'alone, afraid'. I sometimes wish mine would find herself in a similar situation. Might humble her a little."
"Be careful what you wish for," lamented Tetch. "Often times, what we wish for ends up being the thing we never wanted to begin with. Your sister…" (he glanced at the door as though looking through it) "seems—in the few minutes I've interacted with her—surefooted, strong-headed, resourceful, and self-reliant. I doubt she became that person without going through a few trials of her own. Seeing as she is all of these things, your wish is less likely to come true. But still…why would you allow that kind of luck to follow?"
"You've got a point, Tetch."
As Tetch began to leave, he stopped and glanced back at him.
"You've been through much pain and tragedy, Mr. Gordon. I hope it hasn't left you too alone." He said, his eyes and voice full of mystique. And then he left.