Chapter 49

The saloon was silent, save for Oswald. He stared down at his stone mother's head, trying to hold the tears in. It did not do to reveal weakness. Especially not in front of this crowd. "Anything for you, my little Cobblepot." He recited. "You can count on me." Smiling sadly in recollection, he looked up. The table, shining amber in the sunset, was loaded with sinister men. Each one more scarred and fiendish than the other, these people had evaded the law for decades and would continue to do so until they died. And every single one of them answered to him. The sentiment sent tingles up his spine. "Those were the words that my mother would whisper to me each night as I fell asleep."

"She was a saint." Butch piped up from behind him.

Sighing internally, Oswald nodded. "Yes. A saint whose only wish was to love me. And what was her thanks? Not only did she take a knife in the back," he paused, glancing at Butch so as to get the message across, "but even in death, her memory is being desecrated!"

"Seriously?" A voice piped up. "This the reason we're here?" Oswald shot a glare at the voice's owner - Gianni Rivera, the leader of many former Falcone underlings. A big, stupid thug who spent more on hair oil than Oswald spent on his entire wardrobe. He could afford it, considering he had two drug rings circulating Gotham's citizens. "A little glue, some paint...Mom'll be just fine, huh?" He shot the statue a mocking look as he began to stand up.

Oswald seized him by the nape of the neck. In one rapid motion he brought his face down on the statue's. His nose snapped like a Kit-Kat bar. Crying out, Rivera slid back in his chair, clutching his nose. Blood seeped from between his fingers. The entire entourage jerked in their seats. Oswald gave him a tight smile. "No. That is not the reason you are here." He straightened. "The Red Hoods have challenged my authority. They must be made an example of. Tomorrow night, my historic victory will be celebrated-"

"At the Sirens." Barbara shot up from her chair, a martini perched between her manicured fingers. "It's going to be fabulous." She cast a snarky look at the table. "None of you are invited."

Oswald rolled his eyes before getting on with his order. "I want them found, and their leader's head brought to me on a spike before nightfall."

There was a moment of silence. Everyone stared at him, expecting to hear more.

Oswald slammed both fists on the table. "WHAT'RE YOU WAITING FOR?!" He screamed. "FIND THEM!" Everyone jumped from their seats and scattered, practically fighting for the door. Oswald stared down at the statue head, barely able to hold in his fury.

Ruby pushed the needle into the carmine fabric, careful not to piere her thumb. With one hand, she held the two folds of silk. With another, she upheld the picture. The gown that she was making was not of her own design. Rather, it was inspired by ball dresses of the previous century. But while the dress in the photo was cream-colored, she had chosen silk the color of oxblood. The bodice was tight enough to show her average form, but loose enough to allow free breathing and comfortable movement. From the waist down it exploded into folds of soft, crimson silk. Two long strands of pink pearls hung from the bodice's sides, connected at two points like very loose laces. Another strand, this time of carnelians, hung from the front like a necklace for the abdomen. Two finished silk gloves, trimmed with her namesake, sat on the desk.

Smiling, Ruby wiped the sweat from her brow and stepped back. It looked lovely, especially after days of laborious work. Ever since news of this event had reached her ears, Ruby had worked during every spare moment and hid it in the closet on the rare occasion of visitors. Each day, she had contributed something to the gown. Years of mending and sewing other people's clothes had made this easy work, but nevertheless long-lasting.

Hopefully, it would make her a worthy date for Oswald.

Ruby hung her head. She hadn't even gathered to courage to ask him yet. Funny; she had faced several armed-to-the-teeth hooded thugs with more anger than fear. Yet her she was, trembling like a leaf at the thought of asking a man out.

But it wasn't just any man. It was Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot, the criminal kingpin and new mayor. The first person that she had ever fused with, who had ever known her secret besides the scientists. The clever, dominant, proficient, ambitious, stubborn, loyal man who would no doubt go down in history. The man who had stolen her heart bit by bit over the past eighteen months without even realizing it.

Ruby lightly slapped herself on the forehead. Sighing.

There came a knock on the door. "Ruby?"

Ruby froze, then spat out, "Just a minute!" She jumped to her feet, grabbed the dress, and dumped it in the closet. Slamming its doors closed and turning the key, she turned to seek for further evidence. Seeing the gloves, she quickly stashed them into the desk's drawer along with the thimbles, spools of thread, and spare needles. Then, for good measure, she leapt onto the bed. Grabbed the half-finished King novel. "Come in!" She called.

Oswald opened the door. Upon seeing her still on the bed, he smiled with satisfaction. "Good. You need your strength."

"Y-yeah." She agreed, praying that her face didn't look as hot as it felt. "Um, I'm feeling a lot better now."

"Excellent." Oswald entered the room, closing the door behind him. Ruby patted the space next to her. He sat down. Sighed, he leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. Ruby's mouth became a thin, lipless line. She gently stroked his back as he struggled to control his breathing. Patiently, she waited for him to gather himself. When at last he did, he spoke through his pale fingers. "If the Red Hoods cannot be apprehended-"

"They will be." Ruby assured him.

"Those buffoons will never find them."

"Yes, they will." Ruby replied. "And...if it's necessary, I'll look for them."

Oswald turned to look at her.

Ruby went on. "I tracked down Fish Mooney once. I can do the same thing with those thieves."

Oswald gave the crack of a smile. "Remember that night?" He did not need to specify. It had been both on their minds, just beyond the edge of consciousness, since its genesis. Ruby had never brought it up, though; not in thought when forming Cobblair, nor in conversation. She had wanted Oswald to mention it when he was ready. She patted his back. "Sure do. I saw it through one of your eyes, after all."

Oswald chuckled softly.

Twigs crunched. Long, wild grass swayed with movement. Even with the distant shouts, Oswald heard them coming. Two of his enemies. Both had crippled him. One in body. One in mind. And they would pay for those handicaps in blood.

Icy-blue eyes, hidden by the great oak's shadow, widened with excitement. There, painted silver by moonlight, were Professor Hugo Strange and Fish Mooney. Stange wore a white prison outfit while Fish sported a peculiar gown of sea-green and deep blue, with a gold frame around her neck. She looked like some sort of peculiar marine goddess. Too bad that soon, she'd just be a rotting carcass.

He turned to Ruby. Her eyes were distant and glassy. With each gunshot, a tear spilled down her cheek. Momentarily forgetting his revenge, Oswald took her hand. The comforting act only broke her more. Her face crumpled a bit. "I tried to warn them," she whispered, "I told them to leave Gotham, gave them money, locations...but they said no." More tears made their way down her cheeks. "I should've done more."

"Ruby, look at me." Oswald took her face in his hands. It was hot and wet from crying. Icy-blue met indigo. "You did all that you could have done, and more. No one is blaming you. If you want the true perpetrator," he gestured before them, "he is right there, attempting to escape justice." Oswald dropped his hand. "I need your help to bring them both down." His voice cracked a little. "Please. I...I'm not certain that I can do this alone."

Ruby stared at him for a long moment. Then, she closed her eyes. When she looked at him again, the tears had dried. "Okay." Their foreheads touched, eyes closed.

A gun clicked. Fish and Strange froze in their tracks. Their eyes widened as a figure emerged from the shadows. It took shape, sharpening, as it stepped into the pallid moonlight. Cobblair, wearing Oswald's deep purple suit with Ruby's sneakers and red shirt. Sapphire earrings hung from their lobes, with a garnet necklace gleaming in the light like reddish-brown stars. They pointed a polished gun at them. Smiling darkly. Mismatched eyes flitted at the two men behind the targets. "Go!" They ran off, melting into the darkness. Strange and Fish stood alone, completely vulnerable. Cobblair chuckled, sounding very much like their male counterpart. "That's better. Just old friends."

"What-?" Fish squinted at Cobblair. Saw the familiar raven hair, curled now, and hunched shoulders. The beak-like nose and icy-blue eye. "Oswald-"

"Don't call me that!" The person's voice deepened. "My name is Penguin!" A tear dribbled down their face. From the indigo eye. "Do you know how long I've been looking for you? How long I've waited for this very moment?"

"Mr. Cobblepot," Strange sounded more surprised than scared, "you...you and Miss Sinclair...you've fused?"

"Quiet!" Cobblair snapped. The gun edged a little closer. Ready to fire.

"So this it? I spare your life...and you shoot me dead in the woods like an animal." Fish sounded...odd when she said it. Hurt. Offended, too. Cobblair blinked, looking uncertain for the first time since their entry. Their face rippled like the surface of a lake. Frowning, they looked down. "Oz, are you sure you want to do this?" Their voice became more musical. Feminine.

"You promised you would assist me!" The voice deepened again.

"I want to help!" Became high again. "But what if she's right? She could've killed us when..." Their face rippled again. Stablized. Cobblair closed their eyes, took a deep breath, and pointed the gun at a blank-faced Fish. "Yes! I intend to do exactly that! But I will admit...that night under the bridge stayed with me. Why?"

"Why what?" Fish asked.

"Why didn't you kill us?" Cobblair took a few steps forward. Gestured to themselves. "We had formed for the first time. We were completely unstable, ready to fall apart at the first inconvenience. So, why didn't you kill me? I would have killed you in an instant!" There was a long silence. Strange was still admiring the result of his work. Taking in every detail, jotting down notes in his mind. He wondered how it felt, to be binded with someone in both mind and body. Then, he wondered why this amalgam wasn't a hideous mutant like the ones he had forced Basil to fuse with. The results would have four arms, no legs, too many eyes...yet this was more or less normal. Androgynous, but normal.

Fish looked at Cobblair with no such quandries in her eyes. Rather, there was a softness there that Oswald had never seen before. Its alien presence nearly risked Cobblair's composition. "Answer me!" They yelled at last.

"Because you're mine." Fish said simply. Cobblair froze. Stared, eyes wide and lips parted.

"You were my umbrella boy, remember?" Fish asked. "You rubbed my feet when they were tired. And now look at you." She smiled at last. "The terror of Gotham!" Her expression grew solemn once more. "Everything I've ever done in my life...possibly, the best thing was turning Oswald Cobblepot into the Penguin." She shook her head. For the first time, Cobblair saw the tears in her eyes. Mismatched, like theirs. "I couldn't destroy that."

Cobblair's mouth opened, then closed. The gun lowered, bit by bit.

"Ask him." Fish gestured to Strange. "He understands what it is to bring something into being. He did that with your friend, breathing new life into her. It is a part of you. Forever." Her voice dropped to a passionate whisper. Her eyes wide and imploring.

It proved too much. For either of them.

Cobblair gave a choked gasp. Dropping the gun, they backed away. Clutching their head as though suffering a migraine. Groaning, their voice climbing up and down the octave scale. Their body began to glow, every molecule making up their frame blazing. Then, in the time that it took Fish and Strange to exchange a worried glance, the bright figure split in two like a piece of kindling. Oswald wobbled, unsteady on his feet, whilst Ruby sat dazed beside him.

Strange nodded. The fusion had broken. No surprise. Under extreme emotional or physical stress, the union melted like hot wax. Still, it had potential. Too bad he would never witness its progress.

Oswald stood before Fish, head bowed and breathing steadily. Ruby rose, brushing dust from her shirt and jeans. Nodding at Strange, she took her friend's hand. Fish stood calmly. Waiting for whatever would be decided.

Oswald looked up at her. His expression was one of mourning. Regret, even. "Goodbye, Fish."

Fish blinked in surprise.

Oswald shook his head. "Don't come back."

Fish and Strange exchanged another glance, this one drenched in amazement. Without dawdling they broke into a jog, leaving Gotham and all of their sins behind. For now.

Ruby twisted her head to watch them go, a hand covering her mouth. Contrasting emotions head-butted. On one hand, she was relieved that the matter had been resolved without bloodshed. God knew there had been enough of that tonight. But on the other hand, she worried. Would Oswald's kind deed be appreciated? Or be seen as a sign of weakness?

Oswald!

She turned to him. He closed his eyes as tears streamed. Without the shadow of a thought Ruby collected him in her arms. Whispering sweet nothings as he cried silently. "You did the right thing." She told him quietly, stroking his hair. "It's going to be okay."

Ruby gave a slight chuckle. "We un-fused. So unprofessional."

Oswald cracked a tiny smile. Then, he quickly grew serious again. He turned to look at her. "I should not have asked you to form Cobblair with me."

"It's alright-"

"No, it's not." Oswald shook his head. Looked away. "If there is anything that I have learned over these past months is that what we do is a choice. I did not give you a choice. Rather, I asked you to help me abuse this power we share in the name of vengeance." He scratched his cheek. Looking embarrassed, he glanced at her. "I never said it, but...I am sorry."

Ruby gave a simper. Wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I was never mad. Honest. You're my best friend. If I can help make you happy, I want to."

Oswald's cheeks turned light pink. He smiled down at his well-polished shoes.

Ruby swallowed, seeing her chance and feeling something short of terror. "Er, in fact, uh..."

Icy-blue eyes landed on her face.

"There's something I...I've been meaning to ask you." Ruby closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke so quickly it all sounded like one word. "Willyougototheballwithme?"

Oswald blinked, then frowned. "Pardon?"

Ruby's cheeks were like hot coals. "I said," she grumbled, "Will you...go to the ball..." She winced in anticipation. "...With me?"

Oswald blinked again. This time it was slow and froggish. Disbelieving. For a moment, Ruby thought that maybe he hadn't understood. Then, a wide smile made its way on his pallid face.

The next day dawn gray and dark, as though the sun had been ensnared in a smoky cage. Mist still hovered above the ground, hiding the rose bushes, fallen leaves, and steps leading to the gate. The only weapon against the gloom were the countless lights and candles that Ruby had the servants blaze all over the mansion. All five of the fireplaces (one on each floor) burned with a crackling vitality. Scented candles sat in see-through puddles of their own wax, sending off waves of warmth and rich sweetness. The lamps and chandeliers, enhanced by the crystals around them, cast tiny rainbow shards across the ceiling.

Yet all of the light in the world could not illuminate the shadows within Oswald's heart. Nightfall had come and gone, with no trace of the revitalized Red Hoods.

Oswald sipped at his wine. Pacing back and forth as Edward worked diligently on the table. A plate full of cherry scones, courtesy of Ruby, sat nigh untouched on the polished wood. The 'special' coffee that Ruby had made Edward sat hotly in the saucer, half-empty. A Red Hood mask sat before him. Daring him to uncover its secrets.

"Someone is testing me, Ed." Oswald spoke nervously. Assuredly. "They're thinking, 'Oh, he's mayor now. He has to play by different rules.' They'll see...when I'm roasting their entrails over a fire." He took another determined sip of his wine, imagining it to be the blood of his enemies.

Edward set down his fountain pen, lips pursed. "Perhaps I'm thinking about this all wrong."

Oswald stopped pacing. The chalice of wine still in his hand.

"Perhaps this isn't about you at all." Edward mused. "What if this is about the statue?"

Oswald blinked, then snapped. "Of course it's about me!" His wine splashed with the same speed as his words.

Edward nodded. "Yes, you're probably ri-oh, dear." His eyes rested on his friend's sleeve, now speckled with red drops. Oswald's eyes followed the trail. He sighed. "Wonderful." Setting the glass down, he shook his sleeve in an attempt to dry it.

"Oswald," Edward seized the salt cellar, "take a breath." Oswald huffed and puffed, trying in vain to stay calm. Edward hurried to his friend's side, grabbing the wet sleeve. Then, to Oswald's stupor, he sprinkled the fabric with salt. "What're you doing?"

"It's an old trick I learned in the lab." Edward dabbed at the salty, wet sleeve with a cloth napkin. "Most solvents have salt as their base-" He stopped abruptly, looking up. Behind his huge glasses and, beyond them, his eyes, thousands of pieces suddenly fit together. He gave a confused Oswald a toothy grin. "I am the son of water, but if water touches me I die. What am I?"

Oswald groaned. "Again with the riddles-"

"Salt." Edward replied. "Most people think of it as a food additive, but potassium salt can be found in detergents, soaps..."

Oswald cut him off with a tight smile. "What is your point, Ed?"

Edward smiled at him. "I know where the Red Hoods are."