Chapter 26

Ruby spent the day alone. Completely, and utterly, alone.

She tried to harvest her time into productive chores. First, she polished the mansion's floors. It took three hours and enough elbow grease to fill a cabinet's worth of jars. But in the end, the floorboards gleamed in the slanted golden rays. But still there was no one, and Ruby still felt empty. That was why she moved on to the windows. Hanging upside down like a spider, Ruby proceeded to wash every window of the house. She counted, them, too; forty-seven. That took another hour and a half. Finally, she transferred her attention to the kitchen. An hour later, it was perfumed with her best recipe: orange and walnut bread. She placed it in the pantry, wondering if Oswald would eat it tonight.

She'd have no way of knowing until tomorrow morning.

A knot formed in her throat. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Ruby slapped herself. I will not cry! She chanted in her mind. I will not cry!

That was when inspiration struck. She was alone, with a ton of free time, and covered in sweat and grime. There was only one logical course of action to take. Ruby ran up the steps.

Fifteen minutes later she eased herself in the bath's hot, soapy waters. Sighing, she rested her head on the porcelain. Oh, yes. This was the ticket. She could feel her tired muscles softening, her bones popping with every movement. Heaven. To further spoil herself, Ruby had also lined the tub with scented candles and lowered the window's shades. The tiny flickers of flame flickered in the dimness, casting shadows on the walls. Ruby watched them, hypnotised, as she cleaned herself. In the way of the ancient Romans, she took a dull razor, pressed it horizontally against her arm, and gently dragged it up. All the sweat and filth came away like dust on furniture, leaving a stripe of clean flesh. Ruby elongated her arm so that it hovered over the rubbish bin halfway across the room. Wiggling her wrist, she let the biologic debris plop into the bin. And onward it went. Ruby covered everything: arms, legs, back, and abdomen. She grew clean, and the water felt even warmer.

Oswald would have loved this.

Ruby sighed, this time with sorrow. She dropped the dull razor. It clacked on the porcelain tiles. She covered her face with her hands.

Why couldn't she keep him out of her thoughts, if only for a little while? Why was he always there, like a ghost in her head?

Well, in truth Ruby knew why. But she had no intention of saying it out loud. Especially now, when such a feeling meant nothing.

When he hated her.

Ruby covered her ears, but it was no use. She was hearing all of this in her head. That was why she needed a distraction. Fast.

Her dripping arm reached out again. Pressed a button on the radio. A very old-fashioned song crawled out of the speakers. The moment it reached Ruby's ears, her eyes rolled back. She collapsed backwards, hitting the tub's rim. Everything around her changed except for the bath and the music. But no. She was changing, too.

In a moment she was back in the bath water, but not the same. It was cloudy with soap, and she was playfully squirting it with a fist. But it wasn't her fist. The hand was pale and bony, the nails tinted yellow. Deep into the water, his left leg ached. She...he...began splashing about softly, restrained but still childish. The music still played. But this was not the same bathroom. Faded gold curtains kept the sights of the city at bay. Golden carvings and pictures of flowers hung on the walls. Old-fashioned lamps glowed wanely from their perches on the drawer and table. A mirror hung on her...his...left. Ruby glanced at it and nearly gasped.

It was Oswald in the tub. He looked a pinch younger, and his hair was spikier and longer. But it was him.

A door opened and closed. "Your suit is ready." A female voice crooned, heavily accented with German. Glancing up revealed a plump woman with long, frizzy blonde hair. Holding one of Oswald's suits, pressed and ironed. She wore a gown whose color hovered between pink and beige, with a frilly collar. Her face was wrinkled but very gentle, very loving. Her eyes were icy-blue, her lips thin. Ruby swallowed when she realized who she was looking at. "I steamed it nice." The woman added.

"Thanks, Mom." Oswald said, his tone calm but clearly pleased.

Chuckling, his mother hung up the suit. Knelt down with a sponge in her hand. "I'm vorried for you." She began to rub it against Oswald's bony shoulder, slowly and lovingly. "You're so anxious, you look." She squeezed the water out of the sponge. Ruby, still seeing her through Oswald's eyes but incapable of doing anything else, felt something akin to concern bubble within her. Should Mother be told? No, better not. With a start Ruby finally grasped that these weren't her emotions, either.

"These moves you make...they are safe, yes?" Mother asked gently, still washing Oswald. "You're not doing anything illegal?"

"No, Mom." Oswald shook his head firmly. "Don't worry. It's just business." Up close, Ruby could smell his mother. She smelled of raspberries, incence, and cream. Lovely.

Ruby climbed out of the memory just as quickly as she had fallen into it. She lay there, panting and trying to get over...whatever the hell that had been. It was a memory, of that much she was certain. She had recalled it, felt it, as though it were one of hers. But of course it wasn't. None of her memories included a loving mother. Only her fantasies did.

"Oswald," she whispered, hugging herself, "why did I see something of yours?" Just then, Ruby realized something. She had just seen Oswald's mother. The woman who had loved and cared for Oswald all of his life. The dearly loved parent who had died in his arms. Whose light he had watched extinguish. Ruby squeezed her eyes shut. Tears plopped like silver coins into the water. In the quiet, their echoes were as deep as the sea. "Oz," she said softly, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm so sorry."

"Ruby?" Oswald glanced around in alarm. From the driver's seat, Butch eyed him with a mixture of concern and trepidation. "You okay, Boss?" Oswald turned back to his lackey, surprise written all over his pointy features. To Butch, this was something of a breakthrough. Up until this moment, his facial expression had been stony, in all senses of the word. But now, he just looked...almost scared. Just like he'd felt when Boss had told him the bitch's dirty little secret.

"You did not hear it?" Oswald asked, stupefied.

"Hear what?" Butch asked. "If you're talkin' about the asylum gates, hard not to. Those things scream louder than torture victims."

"I..." Oswald looked like he wanted to say something, then shook his head. "Never mind. It's of little consequence." He straightened in posture. Expression fell like a veil from his face. His eyes fell over the windows, and the world beyond them. A world of insanity and secrecy, of treachery and corruption. Where he had suffered endlessly, and where someone else was enduring the same fate. "It all is. Except for this."

Edward Nygma had always considered himself intelligent. Matilda Wormwood ain't got nothing on him. In kindergarten, he was the only kid who knew how to recite the alphabet. Backwards. In Latin. By the time he was seven, he was reading high school textbooks. By fourteen, he passed exams and tests while barely opening a text. Edward managed to conclude college in two years, saving his parents an infinite amount of money. Which his father drank away anyway. Oh, well.

Even Edward's time in the police had been enjoyable to some extent. Sure, he'd never been popular there. But then again, he'd never been popular anywhere. But he'd liked being able to crack puzzles and solve riddles, regardless of whose life was saved and whose death received justice. He'd liked to think that people were as easy to figure out.

But he'd been wrong in that regard. Jim Gordon had been smarter than Edward had anticipated. The consequence of that mistake towered all around him. Made him shiver at night. Hid him from the world.

Well, most of the world. Except for the man sitting across from him.

Edward eyed Oswald Cobblepot with hidden marvel. It had only taken a glance to convince him that, whatever they'd done to him here, he'd undone it. His hair was spiked again, looking sharp enough to prick fingers. He wore expensive velvet and a tangy cologne that Edward could smell from across the metal table. And his eyes were bright with the wickedness that Edward had so favored before.

Guilt was a metal cape hanging from Edward's shoulders. Dragging him down.

The two men sat in somewhat uncomfortable silence for a while. Oswald looked at ease, but Edward hadn't felt this bad in a while. Not only did he feel guilty, but filthy. He was all too aware of his vinegary body odor, the result of three days without bathing. That was how long he had to wait each week. Every three days. And to make matters worse, everyone used the same bathwater.

Yet here Oswald was. A beacon of light in a forest of darkness.

He smiled. "Hello, old friend. How are you?"

Edward blinked from behind his grimy glasses.

Oswald didn't seem to mind the lack of response. He filled in the silence as confidently as a bird filling the air with song. "Things have been going well, for the most part. I am the sole owner of an enormous fortune, I met my father, and got rid of the abominable woman he'd taken to his bed. And I made a friend." He paused. For the first time, a sliver of doubt came over him. It entered his face. His voice. He glanced away. "Or at least, I thought I had. Until I learned that she'd been keeping something from me."

"She?" Edward quirked a brow. Oswald waved his hand. "Ah. I recognize that tone, dear friend. Do not even consider it. She is simply a servant girl. Far below your league."

Edward chortled softly. "I have a league? That's news."

The weak attempt at humor gave Oswald reason to smile a little. But the gloom remained. "She has been playing the roles of both servant and bodyguard for nearly a year now. We had also become friends." His smile widened at the memory. "She showed me a cave near the mansion's grounds. A former amethyst mine, imagine! She told me she often went there to think and relax. I suppose it is a geologist's idea of a treehouse."

"She's a geologist?" Edward asked with genuine interest. "My aunt's a geologist, too." A small pause. "She sold this amazing ruby necklace once, to help pay the bills once. The money lasted us for months."

Oswald made a weird hiccuping noise. "That's her name."

Edward frowned. "What, Month?"

Oswald rolled his eyes playfully. "Ruby. Ruby Sinclair." Good Lord. Even saying her name hurt.

"A fair name." Edward sighed. "At times, I still find myself speaking Kristen's name. When I do, I feel less alone."

Oswald's jaw set. He leaned forward. Grabbed Edward's stare and held onto it. "You are not alone, Ed. Not anymore."

Edward frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Oswald rose, "that from now on, you will have a friend in me. I'm sorry for not contacting you sooner. But I had far too many business callings to take care of first."

Edward nodded. He didn't blame Oswald. If he'd been in Oswald's shoes, he wouldn't have come here at all. Not to visit the man who'd shut the door in his face. He, too, rose. The guard that had been standing by the door shifted. He closed the distance between himself and Edward. Clamped a meaty hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, Nygma. Visit's over."

"I will return." Oswald promised him. Edward nodded. He did it to please Oswald more than anything else.

Ruby stood before the grave, just as she had so many months ago. So much had changed since then. Most evidently were her feelings towards the person beneath her feet. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to steady her breathing. A bag filled with fallen leaves sat at her feet, and a glass vase filled with lillies was placed before the tombstone. An offering. A pale shadow of lost joys and beauties.

"All this time, and I never fully realized." She inhaled wetly. Pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You meant the world to him, Miss Kapleput. He loved you with all his heart. More than I've ever seen a child love his mother." She sniffled. "When I lost my Master, it felt like I'd lost a part of myself, too. He'd been everything to me. He had given me a home. He'd put clothes on my back and food in my belly. He did more for me than my family ever did. But now I see that what I felt wasn't a fractiom compared to Oswald. He was devoted to you. Please, know that." She wiped her eyes even more. "I know that because...today..." She paused, unable to get the words out. Finally, she did. Prying. Yanking. Bleeding. "Because, today...I can feel his love for you as if it were my own."

The tomb, of course, didn't answer. The dead are beyond such things. Ruby wept quietly to herself beneath the sweatshirt's hood.

It had cleared up since this morning. The sun had broken through the fog, and the cool dampness was making way for gentle springtime heat. Birds twittered sweetly, and many trees were bursting with peach, pear, and apple blossoms. Like scented little clouds on sticks. All of this beauty pained Ruby because Miss Kapleput could no longer witness it.

So caught up in her grieving, she was, that she did not hear the two women coming.

"What's up, Sinclair?" Barbara appeared from behind her like a spectre. Ruby flinched but didn't look up. She swallowed. Beneath her hood, her face changed. Her cheeks and nose lost their recent redness, and her eyes dried. She dared a look at her two visitors. Barbara and Tabitha were both fabulous, of course. Barbara wore a crop-top aligned with rhinestones, and tight leather pants. Her heels looked like toothpicks attached to her feet's soles. But her hair was swept up in a golden waterfall over her shoulder, and her makeup was perfect. Tabitha was fiercer: dressed in tight black leather, and her long onyx hair tied back in a ponytail, she was the very picture of quiet fearsomeness.

And they were both looking at her like they knew something.

Clearing her throat, Ruby knelt down and collected the bag of leaves. "Work."

Barbara sniggered. "That's it?" She chuckled. "From what I heard, you can do a lot more with your hands than scrub toilets and peel potatoes."

Ruby felt her heart leap up. Lodge itself in her throat. "What're you talking about?" She could barely get the words out.

Tabitha smirked. It was an ugly sight. "Butch just let us in on your little secret." She made a tsk-tsk sound. "With the power to change your appearance, I'd think you'd at least fix your hair."

Ruby felt that she would faint. Right there. Maybe she'd fall forward and bash her skull against Miss Kapleput's tombstone. That would be merciful compared to this.

She wanted to demand how Butch had known. But in her gut she knew. And it made her want to scream, cry, and laugh bitterly.

Swallowing hard, she tried something that she knew would never work. "Barbara, I don't know what you mean."

Tabitha scoffed. "Oh my God, right."

Ruby winced. Barbara smirked at her, placing a cool hand on her shoulder. "Don't be ashamed. I think it's awesome you can turn yourself into Play-Doh." Tabitha snorted with laughter. Ruby tore herself free from Barbara's grasp. She stomped away, head bowed. "You're going to be sorry someday." She whimpered. Trying to reach the car as soon as possible.

Barbara put on a mocking sad face. "Oh, boo hoo. I'm sorry you're a crime against nature." She turned to Tabitha with a grin. "I'm sure she had fun." In that moment her face brightened. Tabitha quirked a brow. "I know that look. Do tell."

"I wonder how much Oswald's rivals would pay for this little tidbit." She smirked. "All we need is some pictures, and bam! Instant classic."

Tabitha's mind whirled like a well-oiled machine. "If they don't try to buy her..."

"...they'll try to bump her off. Just like the rest of Strange's circus. And who knows how Ozzy will manage without his freakish wonder to watch his back." Barbara chuckled. Whipped out her phone. "Thank God I keep tabs on all of 'em, just in case." Her manicured fingers began flying across the buttons.

Tabitha grinned. "You are such an evil beeatch. Love it."

"Love you, too." Barbara blew her a kiss and hit 'send'.