Chapter 32

Down below was quiet bedlam.

Servants crowded the lawn, biting their nails and exchanging hushed gossip. Butch, Barbara, and Tabitha found shelter beneath one of the apple trees. Barbara shamelessly plucked one off its branch and bit into it greedily. Sirens wailed across the dripping grass, bouncing off the soaked trees. Red and blue light fought wanly against the darkening sky. An ambulance, in the heist to get there in time, had crushed the small wooden fence protecting the vegetable garden. Thankfully, only a few cabbages now found themselves under the vehicle's huge wheels. Parked directly below the building, out of the rain, was a police car with two well-known associates leaning against it.

One wore a badge. One didn't.

Harvey Bullock looked cautiously at his friend. Feeling the tension between them heavy as a drape. Jim didn't even look at him. From indifference or shame, Harvey had no idea. Ever since Jim had walked out of the GCPD, leaving his tools and a note behind, he'd become a different person. Harvey loved the guy like a brother, and knew him well enough to understand the cause: Penguin's guilt trip, combined with the monsters running around and his falling-out with Lee, had just been too much.

Yeah, he understood. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

"So," Harvey scratched his beard. "Why're you here? This is police business, not bounty hunting stuff."

"Sinclair's one of the mutants Strange cooked up." Jim's tone was as flat and chilly as the puddles of rainwater growing beneath their feet. He still wasn't looking at Harvey, but on the building. "This whole suicide thing might go wrong."

Harvey sighed. "Jim. Really, buddy, you have no authority to be here. I'm gonna hafta ask you to leave."

Jim glared at him from the corner of his eye. "You do, and you'll regret it if Sinclair ends up snapping."

Harvey opened his mouth, then closed it. In that moment, his walkie-talkie buzzed. Thank God. He held it up to his mouth. "Bullock."

"Any news?" The muffled voice crackled from the contraption.

"No, not yet." Bullock shook his head even though his colleague couldn't see it. "We got the call fifteen minutes ago, and I got here just three minutes ago. I tried callin' but no one's answering."

"Has the alleged suicidal jumped?"

"No." Bullock denied. "In fact, I don't see her. I think she might have changed her mind. I'm gonna give her another minute, then I'm going up."

A fizzle echoed from the receiver. "Man, these attention-seekers. What, they think we ain't got better stuff to do?"

Bullock cracked a faint smile. "Probably. Talk to you later."

He hung up just in time to see the doors open. All of the servants gasped. Barbara tossed the apple core over her shoulder, an eyebrow quirked. Butch and Tabitha stood on either side of her, curiosity radiating from their faces. Harvey's eyebrows rose. "Well, I'll be."

Emerging into the rain were none other than Oswald Cobblepot, free of his jacket, walking beside Ruby Sinclair. A man-sized jacket was draped over her shoulders, and her head was bowed. They had their arms wrapped around each other. Helping each other walk.

Slowly, an applause rippled across the crowd. Encouraged slightly, Ruby straightened a bit. She blinked at the sea of clapping people as though she couldn't quite understand what she was seeing. Harvey crossed his arms, smirking in spite of himself. Jim's face betrayed no emotion. Oswald pulled Ruby a little closer as he accompanied her to the ambulance. The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea. Butch found himself clapping a bit too, guilt written all over his face. Tabitha and Barbara just blinked at Ruby, at her black garb and puffy eyes, before turning away.

At last, the pair reached the ambulance. The doors yawned open, revealing a team of experts dressed in white sitting amongst emergency tools. When Ruby saw them, her face went white. Oswald saw it. Placed a hand on the small of her back. She glanced at him with wide eyes.

"It'll only be for the weekend, at most." Oswald licked his lips nervously. "And I promise that you will have everything you need, books and clothes included."

Ruby's eyes gleamed. She knew the necessity of this action. It was just standard protocol. But as she looked at the ambulance's instruments, including gurneys and wheelchairs, she couldn't help remembering Arkham. And what had been done to her there. Ruby's hand, heavy with dark stones, reached out and rested on Oswald's cheek. He leaned into her touch. All the while, their eyes never separated. Ruby swallowed. "Don't leave me there."

Oswald's hand found hers. Knitted their fingers together like dried stalks that made up a basket. "Never." He promised.

Some of the tension left Ruby's shoulders. She squeezed his fingers between hers before dropping her hand. Ruby began to shrug off Oswald's jacket when his gentle voice stopped her. "Keep it." Big, dark blue eyes looked up. Oswald tried to smile even though his insides were still quivering like jelly in an earthquake. "You need it more than I do."

Ruby blinked. "But it's Armani!"

I know! Oswald wanted to whine. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it. "There will be another." Reluctantly letting go of her clammy hand, he nodded towards the ambulance. Ruby nodded in reply, turned her back to him...before spinning back. Before Oswald could react Ruby took his face in her hands and planted her lips on his forehead. A silent blessing.

It was brief, no longer than a millisecond, but it still robbed Oswald's already frozen legs of any leftover feeling. He wavered like a drunkard as a blushing Ruby scrambled into the ambulance's waiting belly. Oswald was still standing there, eyes wide and lips parted, even as the wailing ambulance swerved around. Facing the gate from whence it had come, it sped out of the Van Dahl estate, kicking up flurries of gleaming gravelstones in the process. The throng of servants stood by, still watching, even as the wails sank into quietude and the white automobile disappeared into the mist. Oswald stood there, feeling like his head had been stuffed with wool fluff. He cleared his throat. Tried to regain composure despite his spinning skull.

He turned to the servants. They took one look at him and scattered. Running either in the house or the gardening shed. All fifteen of them were gone in the span of a thunder's rumble. Only five people remained in Oswald's domain. None of whom he wished to see.

But alas, a king must perform his duties. Lest the lower lords and ladies develop deadly ideas of rebellion.

Oswald began with the smallest of these duties. Walked up to Butch, preparing a monologue behind his cranium...until he got close enough to see his face. The guilt creasing his brow extinguished all desire in Oswald to take Butch's other hand. Instead, Oswald straightened. "I want you to leave." He said simply. "A week's absence, without pay."

Butch's expression morphed into something akin to relief. "Thanks, boss."

"You have nothing to thank me for." Oswald growled. "I am simply too tired to bestow a more fitting punishment upon you. You know, convincing a friend not to plummet to her assured death is hardly a breezy task." His last words were acidic with sarcasm.

Butch's beefy face adopted the color of a burnt pepper. He swallowed. "Y-yeah, boss. Whatever you say."

Oswald tilted his head towards the gate. Butch marched towards it. Head bowed. Satisfied, Oswald limped towards the police car. His blood boiled with a more intense heat every time he took a step. Tabitha slinked away, glaring at him as she marched off. Oswald glared back with twice the intensity. Barbara hadn't even noticed his arrival. She was trying to flirt with Jim, to no avail.

Oh, Jim. Dear, old friend.

"Jim Gordon. Detective Bullock." Oswald's tone was rimmed with steel. "We have diverse matters to discuss."

Harvey opened his mouth to reply when Barbara piped up, "Can't you see I'm talking with Jim now?"

"I can see that you are disgracing yourself. As per usual." Oswald snorted.

"What did you just say to me?!" Barbara raised her voice.

"Hey, whoa." Harvey held an arm out between Oswald and Barbara. Turned to Oswald. "Um, you okay, Penguin?"

Oswald turned back to Barbara as he answered Bullock. "I will be, once Miss Kean pays the price for her actions."

Barbara scowled. Yet there was something underneath. It was buried, but it was still there. "What actions?"

"For posting a video of Ruby Sinclair without her knowledge, never mind her permission, and turning her into the Freak of the Week." Oswald replied almost candidly. "I'm certain that if you call enough photography stores, someone will eventually display a receipt. And I will bet any sum of money that Miss Kean here was not quick enough to get rid of the camera after she'd finished using it."

Barbara stared at him.

Bullock tried to step in. "Penguin, you ain't got no place to say-"

Oswald held up his hands. "As today's youth say, whatever. I have given you a clue. A key to bring justice to a young woman who was wronged. Take it, or toss it out the window. It is no concern of mine." He hobbled closer. Until he and Barbara were almost touching noses. "But let me assure you, Barbara: wherever you end up after today, you can be certain that I will even the score for Ruby's sake. And if she so requests, I will let her do whatever she wants to you."

Barbara's face turned white, then red. "You don't scare me, Pengy." She warned him. "And neither does your little pet." Again, there was something there. A crack in the ice statue that was Barbara Kean. And Oswald relished in the sight of it.

He gave her a mocking little bow before turning to Bullock. "So kind of you to stop by, detective. Did you bring the popcorn? I'm sure it would have been quite the show."

"Knock it off, Penguin." Bullock snapped. "Nobody here likes seeing women kill themselves. I came here on account of a 9-1-1 call. That's it."

"That's it." Oswald echoed with a nasty grin.

Bullock cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm glad the day had a relatively happy ending."

"I'm pleased to hear it." Oswald waved his words away. "But now that this matter is at a stand-by," he cast Barbara another look, "I would like to know how your search is going."

Bullock frowned. "Search?"

Jim sighed.

"For the creatures of Indian Hill, led by Fish Mooney." Bullock flinched at the name. Oswald loved the sight even as he feigned complete professionalism. "It has been a while since I told you, I understand, but since you have been rather silent on the matter-"

"Look," Bullock leaned in, "if you could keep all this hush-hush for now, I'd appreciate that. The people are still nervous. Getting 'em riled up again might-"

"Fine." Oswald smiled tightly. "But just so we're clear: I want results."

That night, the Sirens' club was quiet. Tabitha came in at well past midnight, after many hours spent relaxing. She'd partaken in the activities that always calmed her nerves. Killing. Looting. Razing. Mutilating. But home was not as welcoming as she had expected it.

As the front door swung shut behind her, Tabitha shed her blood-soaked leather and let the knives drop. They clanged against the marble floor. Leaving red smears on the mirror-like surface.

The place looked dreary to say the least. Most of the lights were dimmed. There wasn't any music playing. The wine cabinet had been assaulted, with empty bottles strewn about. Dirty dishes piled in the sink.

The place was silent as a tomb. Except for a weird, muffled sound coming from the bedroom.

Every instinct hiding under Tabitha's flesh caught fire. Stealthily, without making a sound, she reached under the counter and extracted her favorite tiger-printed robe. Slipping into it, she made her way towards the noise. She found Barbara hunched over on the bed's edge, hands covering her face. She wore a leopard-print nightgown that warmed Tabitha's heart on sight. She'd always loved that they both loved jungle cats. They were hardly that different from them, in truth. Elegant. Strong. Deadly.

But now, the leopard was weeping. Such a thing should not have been possible.

Tabitha's dark, oily eyes shifted from the weeping woman to the laptop sitting beside her. Given the audio, it didn't take a genius to guess what Barbara had been watching.

Carefully, Tabitha sat down. Placed a hand on Barbara's knee. The muffled sobs continued for a long while. And then, Barbara's garbled voice wobbled through. "I almost killed her, Tabby."

"No, you didn't."

"If Penguin hadn't been there-"

"She might have changed her mind anyway." Tabitha said. "But why are you feeling so guilty? Hers wouldn't have been the first life you've taken."

"But it would've been the first I'd have taken like this. By just...clicking on the mouse a few times." Barbara shook her head. "It was a cowardly thing to do."

"It was necessary." Tabitha countered. "Now, thanks to the proof, we have every other gang in Gotham by our side. So when the time comes, we will be able to strike."

Barbara sniffled.

"Oh, babes." Tabitha sighed. Collected Barbara in her strong arms. The two women rocked back and forth in the orange lampposts' light. Waiting for the dawn to come.

Sometimes, everything seems different in the morning. Better. Not always. But sometimes.

Ruby woke up before anyone else. Daring a look through the corridors, she hustled out of her room with a bundle of clean clothes and a bar of soap in her arms. Twenty minutes later, she was dressed and clean back on her bed, and the nurses were none the wiser.

"Good morning, Sinclair." The nurse greeted her as she pushed the trolley in. "How are you?"

Ruby stifled a yawn. Brushed some dust off her Star Wars sweatshirt. "I've been better."

"I'm sure." The nurse eyed the knitting needles and balls of yarn sitting on her nightstand. "I'm just glad we padded those things when you came here."

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Now," The nurse gestured to the table, "I'll leave your breakfast there. Please be sure to eat it."

Ruby nodded. Perching her cheek on her fist, she examined her room as the nurse set out the tray. It was a very nice room, the kind that only true blue-bloods could afford. The chamber was twice the size of hers back home, and the walls were a soft, creamy white. The soft satin curtains blocked out the wan, broken city outside. Oswald's buquets had arrived here almost at the same time as she. White and red roses, of course, occupied almost every corner of the room. 'Get Well Soon' balloons were tied to her bed's post. Her as-of-yet unread books (The Chalk Pit, Finders Keepers, The Joy Luck Club, The Stranger, and The Kite Runner) were piled high on the nightstand. The book that Ruby was currently devouring, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, sat on her lap. In addition to the comfortable bed, Ruby also had a nightstand and two armchairs with a table between them. All in all, it was worth a fortune.

That was why, upon Ruby's insistence, it had been paid for with the black pearl necklace that she had been wearing yesterday. Luckily, the hospital had deemed for only one black pearl necessary to cover the expenses. Ruby had spent a good chunk of the previous evening carefully winding the threads back together, tightening the necklace to fit its smaller number.

Ruby leaned over and sniffed one of the roses, entranced by its scent, when there came a knock on the door. "Sinclair. You have a visitor."

The young woman froze. Then, her hands flew to her wild curls. She tried to comb them in vain before finally willing them to move back. She may have looked like a wannabe surfer, but it felt like a step forward. Her heart racing a thousand miles a minute, she asked, "Who?"

"Bruce Wayne, from Wayne Enterprises."

Ruby stopped. Blinked. "Come again?"

The orderly from behind the door repeated the name. It stubbornly remained the same. To say that Ruby was shocked would have been an understatement. Yes, she and the Wayne heir had remained in contact since that fateful night. But it hadn't gone any farther than text messages, weekly phone calls, and e-mails. Ruby had tried inviting him over to the Van Dahl mansion more than once, only to be politely refuted. Why the sudden change in tone?

Ruby shrugged. Straightened. "Fine, let the prince in."

The door clicked, and in came the richest boy in Gotham. He looked...different from the last time Ruby had seen him. The fine suit and the haircut aside. He looked...older. Harder. Even a bit bruised. Ruby immediately felt some of her coldness towards him seep away. Because now, in the light of day, she saw him for what he was: a kid trying to fill a very large pair of shoes.

She cracked a smile. "Well, look who's gotten big."

"Ruby." Bruce quickly closed the distance between him and the bed. His dark eyes scanned her face. "I saw the news last night. Is everything alright?"

"Now it is." Ruby's smile felt less forced now. "Thanks to Oswald."

She hadn't meant to guilt-trip him, but that was how he took it. Color rose in his otherwise pallid cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't interfere with this vile video business. I-I was occupied in other matters, and I-"

Ruby's hand on his shoulder clamped his jaw shut. "Kid," she said gently, "no need to apologize. You're only, what, fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Bruce corrected, "in two weeks."

"There you go." Ruby said. "When I was fifteen, my biggest concern was taking my time reading because of how long it took books to come my way." She squeezed his shoulder. "You're doing way more than what any reasonable adult would expect from someone so young. So please, don't be so harsh on yourself."

Bruce bit his lip. Still looking guilty.

Ruby sighed. Let her hand slip off him. Looked away. For a moment, a tense silence hung between them.

She cleared her throat. "So. I'm guessing you know about the video. What it contains."

Bruce nodded. "I did not watch it. I swear it. But I do know its content."

It was Ruby's turn to nod. "If you want to run away screaming, I don't mind. It's happened before."

Bruce looked at her curiously. "Why would I run away?"

"Because I'm an affront to nature," Ruby counted off the insults on her fingers, "a freak, a weirdo, a mutant...all that good stuff."

"Good."

Ruby blinked. Frowning. She looked at Bruce, who in turn was watching her in a very solemn way. It was almost frightening. "If it hadn't been for these 'freakish' powers, then I may have not survived that night." He said firmly. "I owe you a lot, Ruby. I know that I haven't acted that way as of late, and for that I am sorry. If you'll permit me, I'd like to begin making amends."

Ruby stared at him with a set jaw. She felt like he was truly seeing him for the first time. Him as a whole, not the fragmented pieces in the form of e-mails or phone calls. She was witnessing the true essence of Bruce Wayne, and its depth of humanity was almost bottomless. As well as honest.

Ruby took a breath, unsure of how to respond, when her eyes settled on the small table between the two chairs. It had a couple of simple board games sitting atop it. A devious smile spread across her face as she faced Bruce once more. "You can start by giving me a good game of checkers."