Chapter Thirty-Five: Ed's Back
In the following hours that passed, there was an article in every newspaper that documented everything Sylvia had told Mrs. James as the reporter had written everything down as he'd seen and heard while the former was under a hypnotic state, entranced to speak only words of truth.
Sylvia was in bed, asleep. Whether it was because she'd engaged in such an emotional affair while being under Tetch's trance or whether that was because the hypnotism itself could be so mentally exhausting, Sylvia had barely gotten out of bed for the whole day except to go to the bathroom.
At her side was Demetri who read the newspaper documenting the Cobblepots' (as the paper called it) 'Most Humiliating Reveal'. He sat in an armchair within the master bedroom, glancing at her only when she stirred unceremoniously in her sleep, or when he hadn't heard her move in a good amount of time.
He read the same paragraph over and over. The newspaper article had documented each of his mistress' confessions with an itemized number. One confession in particular discussed his own trial, Sylvia's own words quoted: 'I made one of my employees cut open their arm and give me an artery to prove that they're still loyal to me. And, funnily enough, I still don't completely trust him. But he seems to love me for it.' Those were her words, spoken.
"Did you mean any of that?" Demetri mumbled, more to himself than to her.
"Mean what…"
He startled, glancing up to see Sylvia slowly sitting up, rubbing her head with the heel of her palm.
"What time is it…?" She asked groggily.
"Almost afternoon," Demetri answered dutifully, although he still couldn't keep the pain of betrayal from his own voice. "Miss Sylvia, do you remember much from yesterday?"
"I was hypnotized," Sylvia murmured, the 'h' word was slowly becoming one of her least favorite words. "Why?"
Demetri handed her the newspaper. Sylvia gave it a once-over, realizing what had happened. Basically, she'd come clean to the entire world, including her own Gotham City. And the confessions—good fucking lord, the confessions she had made to not only her own people but to Mrs. James and the newspaper reporter!
All of them were listed.
Hurting Jim's girlfriend—Lord, she'd have to answer to that one soon if Jim was still reading the newspaper…The sexual assault falsifying to seek revenge on her teenage antagonist…chomping off one of Maroni's men (did she ever really forget that though, not necessarily)…Killing off Tiffany's husband…hurting her own staff, poor Tomas…and there was just more and more.
The confession to literally kill Mrs. James and have sex with her husband on top of her body made Sylvia stare at the article a little longer. Had she really said that? Did she really want that, really?
"Oh my fucking god…" Sylvia whispered. She looked up at Demetri, who watched her with the saddest puppy dog eyes deemed possible.
"You said you trusted me." Demetri told her. "You said you forgave me…but really, you don't trust me at all, do you?"
"Demetri…" Sylvia began, but could she really come back from that? What she had confessed, that had been real spoken truths—at least from her subconscious. "I do trust you…"
"You were hypnotized," Demetri said sternly. "You were told to speak the truth. The 'irrefutable' truth, as Tetch proclaimed. You said you don't trust me."
"I said I don't trust you 'completely'." Sylvia reminded. "I still do in some fashion, then, don't I?"
"I opened my arm for you! I literally took out one of my arteries, and you still don't trust me."
"Darling, don't you understand what I'm trying to say? I don't trust anyone in some type of fashion. I barely trust Butch or Gabe, for that matter—I can barely trust even my own friends, even Jim sometimes. You're not any different than them." Sylvia said, slowly climbing to the edge of the bed so she could meet him.
Demetri crossed his arms, unconvinced.
"Yes," She said quietly. "A part of me still thinks you'll betray me. That's because despite everything I've done for you, you would have still allowed yourself to betray me based on whatever Delilah was telling you. That part of me is never going to let that go."
She touched the underside of his chin, tilting it up so he was forced to meet her eyes.
"You're loyal to me…for now." Sylvia said gently. "That's all that matters now, Sweetheart."
"You trust me, then?"
"I do."
"You still want me around?"
"Of course, I do." Sylvia insisted. "You're helpful. You're sweet. You've been helping Oswald with so many of his errands, and you've helped me a lot too. Yes, I still want you around."
"Okay…so all that stuff in the paper…"
"It was true, but only to a point." Sylvia returned sweetly.
Demetri smiled and he hugged her. She hugged him back. He left her side so she could get ready for the day.
When she was dressed, Sylvia left the master bedroom, and steadily walked through the corridor to the kitchen where she reached inside the refrigerator and grabbed a glass bottle of orange juice.
"Hey, Liv."
Ed's voice threw her off.
Sylvia screamed, "FUCKING CHRIST!" and she dropped the bottle of orange juice; it shattered into glass shards on the kitchen tile, spilling juice on it, Ed, and herself.
She was leaned against the kitchen counter, her back against it while she grabbed the place her heart used to be, and steadily caught her breath. Meanwhile, Ed looked thoroughly pleased with himself while simultaneously remorseful for having scared her so badly.
"What the fuck, Ed," Sylvia snapped when she finally got her bearings. "Why are you here—where—where the fuck did you even come from?"
"Arkham," Ed answered, gesturing to himself. "I clean up nice, do I not?"
Sylvia looked him over, only now realizing that he wasn't wearing the Arkham Asylum generated wear that all inmates were distributed prior to becoming a prisoner. Instead, he wore a black-over-charcoal gray pinstriped, three-piece suit; same colored dress jacket over a white collared shirt, and dark blue tie. His hair was pulled back handsomely, and the smile was cunning as he was intelligent.
"Excuse me." Sylvia muttered. She turned her back, and laid two of the kitchen towels down on the floor, stepping on them so they could absorb the juice quicker.
As she did, Ed rubbed his own suit with a wet wash cloth, offering the same to her since she had spilled juice on herself as well. Sylvia declined.
"I guess Oswald was able to get you out," Sylvia said pointedly, gesturing to and facing him.
"It was the quickest trip to rehabilitation one could ever ask for."
"You're not rehabilitated."
"No, I'm not. But my certificate says I am."
"Fascinating." Sylvia said, unenthusiastic.
"Weird."
"What?"
"Well, I thought you'd be more elated," Ed said curiously. He added with less certainty, "You and I are still in a truce, correct?"
"Unless you've done something to harm my brother or anyone else in my family, then yes, we are." Sylvia answered stoically.
Ed surveyed her for a moment.
"What the fuck are you staring at?" Sylvia questioned.
"Nothing. Well, not 'nothing', but if you don't mind me saying, you don't seem to be yourself." Ed noted calmly. He gestured as such, "In fact, you're acting really odd."
"I'm acting odd."
"Yes."
"Me."
"Yes."
"I'm acting odd," Sylvia chuckled quietly. "Well, if I'm acting odd, then you are on a whole other scale, my friend."
Ed sent her a look.
She smiled weakly, muttering, "Sorry. You're right…"
"Care to explain?"
"Explain what?"
"Why you're acting odd," Ed emphasized.
"I was hypnotized yesterday," said Sylvia frankly. "The 'Great Jervis Tetch'. Snide, over eager, little…Anyway, he was able to get inside my head, and…Fuck it, here. Read for yourself." She handed him one of the newspapers that had been sitting around, left no doubt by the other people who were inhabiting the manor prepping for Oswald's campaign.
Ed perused the newspaper and its articles, reading one in particular that focused solely on Mrs. James' impromptu visit to Sylvia's club after an interview with the Gotham Gazette that had literally gone no where in succeeding in 'outing' Sylvia and Oswald's true personality. The visit itself, the article continued, proved to show just what type of person the allegedly 'new first lady' really is like, and what more may be expected if her husband were to take the position of Mayor.
After he read the article, Ed looked up to see Sylvia's smile depreciate to an expression of self-loathing. She sat at the kitchen table, holding a new bottle of orange juice in her hand; her head was on the table.
Ed sighed, and he sat beside her.
"It's not nearly as bad as you think." He said gently as he put the paper to the side and touched her arm.
"'Not nearly as bad'? Ed, did you even read the damn thing?" Sylvia asked, her face still on the table. "I practically spilled my guts to everyone and anyone who can read or listen. I confessed to murder—probably in every degree possible. I'm surprised the GCPD hasn't come banging on my door to arrest me."
"'And this, too, shall pass.'"
Sylvia looked at him: "What?"
Ed grinned, saying, "A most powerful eastern Persian ruler who called his sages to him, including the Sufi poet Attar of Nishapur, asked them for one quote that would be accurate at all times and in all situations. The wise men consulted with one another, and threw themselves into the depths of contemplation, and, after much toiling for it, finally came up with the answer. So saith the quote: 'This too, shall pass'. The ruler was so impressed by it, he had it inscribed in a ring."
"What's your point, Ed?" Sylvia asked tiredly.
"People work for you, still?"
"Mm-hmm. So?"
"So that means everyone in the Underworld basically knows who and what you are."
"Yes." Sylvia returned. "I guess that's true."
"So," Ed reasoned, "that's basically half of Gotham. More than half, actually, if my calculations are correct."
"So more than half of these people think I'm a piece of shit. They know what I know, now. Brilliant," Sylvia groaned. "Thanks for that."
"That's not my point at all," Ed laughed.
"Okay…"
"The people in the GCPD also know what kind of person you're like."
"Not all of those people know what I've done." Sylvia reminded with a whine. "Harvey knows some, maybe more but he only thinks I might kill people for the fuck of it. At least when I go waltzing into the station, people genuinely greet me and think I'm a good person."
"And now that they know, do you think any of them—Harvey Bullock, Captain Barnes—will think any less of you?" asked Ed pointedly.
Sylvia shrugged, "Maybe."
"Literally, more than half of the people in Gotham are corrupt. They know who and what you are. They call you 'Lark' in Arkham, and I've heard the name through the streets and when people talk about you." Ed continued, grinning broadly.
"I can't help but feel you liked saying that."
"The public already knows half of these confessions, and there's a third of them that are so trivial that they don't even matter now." Ed said, pointing to the article in the newspaper. "What you did as a child—that was almost twenty years ago. Beating a dead horse, if you ask me."
"But Ed," Sylvia whined, "I told Mrs. James that I wouldn't mind killing her or fucking Oswald on her dead body—that doesn't exactly hold a candle to a good reputation."
"And in the article," Ed reminded, "you told her that no one would care if she was dead. That wasn't an opinion. It was the truth."
"It's what I believe to be true." Sylvia argued. "Because like a sheep I did what Tetch told me to do. To tell the truth. My truth."
"The 'irrefutable' truth," He specified. "That means a truth no one would argue, debate, or at least care enough about to debate."
Sylvia looked at Ed, who grinned just as easily at her as he did when they first met. Like he was waiting for her to get the well-intended joke. But didn't she?
"So…" She muttered. "I haven't cost Oswald the campaign?"
Ed clapped her cheerfully on the back in response: "If anything, I think you might've pushed him towards it. Honesty isn't a flaw."
"It can be one though."
"Only if you're a lawyer," Ed joked.
"You might be onto something," Sylvia giggled.
Ed patted her back. She sat up, and leaned into her chair.
"So what finally broke you out of the trance?" asked Ed conversationally as he stood and brought back a few crackers and slices of cheese.
"Wanting to know that answer for a while, haven't you," Sylvia said mischievously.
"I do love answers."
"You like riddles."
"Those too."
"Well, to answer your question: Tetch did, accidentally at least."
"How did he do that?"
"He tried to give me a scenario during which I was irrevocably in love with him." Sylvia said carelessly. "In the same day that I'd turned him down."
"The scenario didn't work, I'm assuming."
"You assume right. I broke out of the trance, like that." She snapped her fingers. "Wasn't hard."
Ed chuckled lowly, "I suppose if he tried hypnotizing you into loving me, you might have had a harder time breaking out of the trance."
Sylvia glanced at him warily. At first, Ed might think she was going to strike him in the face since he'd reminded her of his enamored feelings for her that were incidentally bottled inside, but instead, Sylvia smiled in spite of herself, and ate a cracker with a slice of cheese.
"I suppose I might've." Sylvia conceded, side-glancing at him as she tossed it back with a sip of orange juice.
"You look good—er, great, by the way," Ed said quickly, gesturing to her in general.
"Thanks." Sylvia answered. She licked her lips of the salt from the crackers, and added, "I've been having to buy more clothes because of Csilla."
"Who?"
"The baby." She explained.
"Oh, the baby, right, right," Ed said, nodding. "How's she doing in there?"
"Well, she's not in a five-star luxury suite, Ed. I guess she's doing fine."
"I don't know. I think being in any part of you would be luxurious." Sylvia blinked and when Ed realized what he'd said, he cleared his throat, muttering, "Boy, that did not come out in the way I had intended."
"I would have hoped not," Sylvia laughed nervously, smiling in spite of his humiliation. After a moment of what was awkward silence, she stood, saying, "I…um…I better go see if I can't catch Oswald before the media gobbles him up. He's a busy man, you know."
"Of course, I understand. I'll see you around, I guess." Ed said, standing when she did. After she smiled and quickly left, he sat back down and literally facepalmed. "Foot in mouth, Ed…both feet."