Chapter 37

Six hundred and fifteen days. That was how many days had passed since Edward had been dragged in here. Since he'd last felt the sun on his face, or filled his lungs with fresh air. All the passtimes and attempted escapes had faded along with his enthusiasm. Each day followed the next, with little difference between them.

Only one thing gave him the strength to get up every morning.

Especially in these past six months.

A beam of watery sunlight trickled in Edward's face, forcing him to open his eyes. He stared up. There was a small rectangle of sky in the otherwise solid cement wall. Within it, he'd seen the seasons change. Like seeing the world through different filters. Or maybe he'd really just been seeing different worlds.

That got him thinking.

How much of Gotham had changed in his absence? Reading the newspaper was prohibited if you wore a striped uniform. Same went for watching the news. Normally, that was just as well. Most of these brain-dead imbeciles hardly knew what was going on in here, never mind outside. But Edward was above them. He was above them all. He shouldn't have to put up with the same half-hearted, cold treatment.

But he would have almost taken another godforsaken game of 'duck, duck, goose' over this unending boredom. Edward had read everything in the asylum's pathetic excuse for a library, ten times each. He'd devoured each outdated National Geographic and every old, yellow-paged dictionary. He'd even taken to reading them upside down, just to pass the time. He'd spent hours playing chess by himself, after wasting three weeks in teaching his 'friends' how to play. Or at least, trying to. But Sharon was too jittery to stay focused on such a difficult game, Norton was simply stupid, and the split personality guy (Edward had forgotten his name, which was normal considering the man had seven different names) was unpredictable. Sometimes, the dominant personality would beat him easily. Another personality just insulted him. A third had a tendency to eat the pieces.

Hence, Edward spent his time alone. Alone with his memories and thoughts.

Most of the latter were focused on the present, rather than the past. The past was too awful to think about, especially when Edward considered that all the bullying in the world would have been worth being freed.

No. His thoughts rested on the items neatly positioned on the cardboard box he used as a nightstand. Six items were sitting there. A tin can of biscuits, now empty. A cashmere sweater the color of pine needles. A large chunk of holly blue agate. A dense book focusing mainly on riddles and brain-scratchers. Edward had only read it twice, careful to preserve its perfection in this squalid place. A fountain pen. A hand-woven scraf with his initials stitched at the bottom.

All gifts from Oswald. Edward couldn't help wondering, though, if he'd actually mailed these packages or had had his servants do it.

Almost immediately afterwards, he regretted the thought. Oswald Cobblepot had been nothing but kind to him lately. Even though Edward didn't deserve it. The least he could do was show the man gratitude. But all the same, he couldn't stop thinking...why?

There came a loud knock. Edward twisted around to see one of the million faceless orderlies that came and went like aches. This was a guy, young and fresh, who apparently liked stealing the female patients' undergarments. Five women had complained about these thefts right after he'd appeared. Couldn't be a coincedence.

"Hey, cop killer." The guy was saying. "You got another meeting with Cobblepot." He began unlocking the door. "C'mon."

Speak of the devil. Edward scrambled to his feet, suddenly feeling self-conscious. After a certain incident in the shower some time ago, Edward had been cutting down his bathing time. He didn't bathe for three days in a row, now. Four if he could help it. His ripe, vinegary body odor crept up with every movement he took. Oh, mercy.

"Yes." He said quickly. Hurrying. "Lead the way...er, Peter?"

"Patrick." The guy corrected.

"Patrick, right." Edward gave a foxlike smile. "You won't last the month."

In response, Patrick shoved him ahead. They walked down the dim corridor that reeked of disinfectant. Noises could be heard behind the doors. Murmurs. Screams. Sobs. Once, they had upset Edward. Now, they slid right off him like water off an otter's fur. The room at the end of the hall beckoned him.

Soon enough, the two were seated on opposite ends of the table again. There were two guards stationed at both doors, but none of them were paying attention. One guy was even playing Candy Crush on his phone.

Edward's nut-brown eyes slithered towards his visitor. Oswald looked too good for the place, as always. Not for the first time, Edward noticed something different in him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was there. Yet he seemed to be normal. Oswald was impeccably clean, smelling like a salty seaside breeze. Edward could smell it from across the metal table. Oswald's black hair was impeccably spiked, his beak-nosed face serene. His black suit, complete with a bright blue tie and a white rose in the breast pocket, was so well-ironed that it could have been made from crispy paper. He looked...happy. Without him.

Edward just stared at the man he'd nursed back to health. Words abandoned him. As had whatever courage he'd had in social interactions. Oswald had anticipated this. "Hello, Ed." His greeting was warm. "How are you doing?"

Edward held out his hand, palm down, and wiggled it from side to side. Fifty-fifty.

Oswald shrugged. "Understandable. Things have been a bit rough for me as well." He bent over to the side, reaching for something on the floor. Edward stared at him. Flabbergasted. How could Oswald even think of comparing their situations? Here Ed was, locked up and filthy, growing bored out of his mind, while Oswald got to frolick free. What could he possibly have to complain about?

Oh, right. Fish. It was so easy to forget things that don't directly involve you.

Cursing Oswald removed other items from the bag, searching for the present. These items included a few photos that he'd picked up from the store before coming here. Curiousity guided Edward's hands towards the envelope, where colors peaked out. Deft fingers slipped inside. Gently pried the papers out. The contents reached in his chest and squeezed his heart.

All three photos concerned Oswald and a young, very plain-looking woman. The first showed them on the ferris wheel. The wind was playing with their hair and grins decorated their visages. Just enough of the vast horizon was shown between them. The buildings looked no larger than matchboxes, the roads thin ribbons. The second showed Oswald in a gold-and-black robe, munching on popcorn while sitting cross-legged on a sofa. The white glare of the television washed over him. Illuminating his surprised, amused look at whomever was taking the picture. Judging by the hand coming up behind the camera, waving playfully, Edward could take a guess. The third was the simplest. It was just the two of them looking at the camera, smiling with their eyes rather than their mouths. Oswald was the one holding the camera, apparently, while the young woman - Ruby, that was her name - was hugging him from behind, looking absurdly happy.

Edward felt bile rise in his throat. He whipped the photos around so that only their white backs were visible. The nausea didn't subside.

Oswald finally rose, a carefully-wrapped gift in his hands. When he saw the photos, his expression darkened. "Oh, uh-"

"Sorry." Edward pushed them away. Was all too glad to do so. "I shouldn't have looked. Sorry."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for." Almost bashfully, Oswald collected the photos and slipped them under his jacket. Right over his heart. Had he done it on purpose, or subconsciously? Edward wondered. For the first time, he feared the answer.

Oswald quickly tried to steer them back on track. He placed the gift before Edward, who just stared at it for a moment. He looked back at Oswald, who was smiling nervously. For the first time since these visits had begun, Edward noticed little changes in his...former friend. They were tiny, almost invisible. But they were there. A beam of pale, weak light falling across Oswald's face revealed his irises. They had once been icy-blue. Now, Edward could see that the irises' outer rims were indigo. Oswald's skin also had a very faint hint of peach, one that Edward had never seen before. The ends of Oswald's inky spikes were slightly curled, too.

All this time, and Edward had never noticed. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to see it. Especially when he considered what Oswald had been telling him.

Oswald was oblivious. Seeming to think that Edward's silence was due to confusion rather than hurt realization. He gestured to the present, smirking proudly. "It's a puzzle. The trick is opening it." He said. Edward undid the black wrapping paper and, indeed, found a puzzle box sitting in front of him. He immediately got to work. Oswald continued to talk. "The man at the store said it's one of the most difficult ever made. People pass it on, unsolved, for generations." Edward's nimble fingers continued to work. Oswald went on. "A mathematician once went mad trying to-"

With a final twist of his wrist, Edward set the box down. Its sides fell away like rotting fruit peel, revealing the red dominoes inside. Oswald stared at them with wide eyes. His jaw was dropped. Silent. Then, he broke into chuckles. "Yes!" He nodded towards it. "Well, there you go!" Another cackle.

Edward leaned back in his chair. Smiled faintly. "It was a lovely thought." A moment of silence passed between them. Slightly awkward, but warm. Familiar.

Oswald stared at him with nothing but friendliness. "And did you get the biscuits? A-and the sweater? I know how drafty these rooms are."

Edward had enough. "Mr. Cobblepot-"

"Oswald."

"When I think of how I treated you-"

"Stop." Oswald held up a hand. Smiling gently at him.

It tugged at Edward's heartstrings. He swallowed. Unable to stop the question from bubbling up his throat. "Why're you being so kind?"

Oswald's smile faded. A thoughtful expression fell over his angular face. "Talking to you these past months..." He licked his lips, searching for the right words. "I don't know how I could've gotten by otherwise. I mean, Ruby's been wonderful as always. And our weekly sessions with Barker are always amazing. Exhausting, but amazing. I feel like I learn something new about her, and myself, with each visit."

Edward felt like someone was twisting his organs inside out.

Oswald continued. "But it's still business, not pleasure. And I feel that there are certain matters that you may help me understand better than anyone else." His expression grew bitter. "Fish out there, planning who knows what...me being surrounded by, for the most part, morons and lunatics..."

"I know the feeling." Edward whispered, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

Oswald turned back to him. Eyes pleading. "Why didn't she kill me when she had the chance? I was powerless. Before Ruby's intervention, before Cobblair's birth, my head was located in between one of her goons' hands. She could have leaned forward and slit my throat, had she wished." He shook his head. "She must have a larger goal in mind. I need to know what she is doing."

Edward frowned. "Do you?"

Oswald stopped. Stared at him with big, confused eyes.

Edward tore off a piece of the wrapping paper. Began to fold it. "When Alexander encountered the Gordian knot, a knot so complex no one had been able to untangle it, he just removed his sword and cut it in two."

Oswald quirked a brow. His eyes as attentive and alert as a fox's.

"Details can be distracting." Edward continued, his fingers still folding. "Sometimes, a simple solution is best. So no matter what she is planning, just remember..." He placed his creation on the table. A small paper penguin sat before Oswald. An affectionate smile spread across the man's face as he looked at it. Edward finished. "Penguins...eat...fish."

Oswald's expression hardened. His heart took flight. Edward's plummeted.