Chapter 55

The way home never seemed to end. Edward kept skimming through the files and social media, faithfully chirping news whenever mentions of Oswald cropped up. Oswald, in turn, spoke of his future plans to further win the people's hearts. At one point the annoyed driver inserted his headphones and cranked up the volume to a point that, if one in the backseat strained, they could hear it.

Aside from a few comments here and there, Ruby didn't say anything. She sat opposite of Oswald and Edward, glaring at them through her sunglasses. Then, when the pain continued to spread throughout her body like a cold wind, she turned to the window. The buildings began to fall away, with trees and shrubs sprouting forth in their place. Up above, the sky was a smoky gray. Faint rumbles of thunder appeased her. She had always liked the rain, with the sweet scent of damp earth and the electricity in the air. It was a tiny miracle that begged to be witnessed. It always made her feel a bit better. She needed that today. More than she wanted to admit.

The leather beside her crinkled. Ruby knew who it was without turning around. Her throat closed up like a dam. Oswald's cool hand, still smelling of lemon from this morning, rested on her cheek. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

Ruby swallowed. Shrugged a bit.

Oswald hesitated, confused. He had never seen Ruby behave this way. Ever. Even when his father had died, they had turned to each other for comfort. When he had discovered her secret, she had distanced herself from him, true, but only after he'd done it. Even then, she'd suffered through the entire ordeal. But this? She just seemed so...unfeeling. As cold and hard as the diamonds hanging from her ears.

The mayor did not know what was causing this sudden rift, but he wanted it gone. Wanted to see his friend smile again.

An idea came to him. Carefully, he took her hand. Ruby stiffened but didn't pull away. Good sign. "Ruby," he said gently, "would you...like to cook with me this afternoon?"

Ruby turned her head slightly. He could feel her watching him from the corner of her eyes. Uncertain. Oswald continued. "We haven't cooked together in a while. Not since the election. That could be fun, don't you think?" Probing his brain for more, he added, "We can play music, too. Owl City, your favorite band. Or Florence and the Machine." He could feel Ruby blink slowly, like a surprised frog. "You hate playing music when you work. It distracts you, remember?" Her voice still sounded so coarse, as though she'd spent the morning gargling bleach. But he could nevertheless recognize his friend in that rough tone.

"But you love it." Oswald replied. "So...what do you think?"

Ruby stared at him for a long moment, seeing this gesture for what it was: an attempt at rekindlement. He may not have known the reason behind her sorrow, but he did want to cheer her up. Oswald was so clueless. He could also be the most manipulative, two-faced serpent under the sun. But she'd known him for nineteen months, and had even shared a body with him. Ruby knew when he was trying to play the emotional cards. And right now, there was nothing but honestly good intentions in his mind.

This would not fix things by any means. But the fact that he cared enough to try sparked something in Ruby's chest.

Slowly, she nodded.

Oswald lit up. "Excellent!" He chuckled with relief, running a hand through his gelled hair. Sensing a softening in his friend's emotional walls, he proceeded to ask, "Those children were...something, were they not?"

"Yes." Ruby answered softly.

"That Luke boy will go far if he heeds my advice." Oswald chuckled. "It is exactly the sort of advice I wish to impart on my own son someday." His eyes adopted a far-off look, dreamy and hopeful. "I would hope that he inherits blonde, curly hair, like my mother. And, perhaps, the brown eyes of my father." He smiled softly. "In that way, I could see a part of them living on in him."

Ruby swallowed hard. "What would you call him?"

Oswald snickered. "Nothing as old-fashioned as my name, I assure you. My classmates had enough ammunition to last for, well, my entire scholastic career. I would like something common enough, but not enough that he wouldn't feel special."

Ruby waited patiently.

"Mason, to represent his forging our name into the future." Oswald mused. "Or perhaps Micah, which means 'who is like God?'" He chuckled. "The answer, of course, would be found in our family tree." Ruby simply nodded, a tiny smile on her face. Encouraged, Oswald asked her, "Have you ever considered having children?"

The smile disappeared. "No." Oswald felt as though a door had been closed. Shutting him out. Recognizing all too well the need for privacy, he turned away. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to upset you." Ruby was silent for a while, her expression impassive. Then, with a deep breath, she spoke. "I can't have kids."

Oswald turned to her in surprise. "What? But you're only twenty-seven!"

"For a normal woman, sure, there'd be plenty of time." Ruby replied evenly. "But biologically, I'm not exactly what you'd call 'normal'." Oswald watched her, listening. Ruby's fingers slipped under her sunglasses, rubbing them achingly. "I'm a product of incest, Oz. I carry the same gene that nearly cost me my life. And since both my parents carried it, I have twice as much. I don't want to pass it on to a child. Besides," she inhaled, "Dr. Strange's cure didn't involve child-bearing. His research pinned everything on me surviving, nothing else. I asked him about it, but he said no. My DNA's been completely altered by the formula. He doubted I could even get pregnant. And even if I could, he said taking care of a baby would put too much stress on my body." She arched a brow at him. "I don't know if you've ever noticed, but I don't suddenly get cranky and weak every twenty-eight days."

Oswald felt embarrassed. In truth, he had never noticed.

Ruby shrugged again. "It's just as well. I...I don't know the first thing about being a parent."

"And I do?" Oswald chuckled before growing serious again. "Ruby, I hardly agree. I think you'd be a wonderful mother. You're kind, sweet, and the most nurturing person I know."

Ruby's throat clogged up. She crossed her arms.

Oswald peered closer at her. "Is that why you were so uncomfortable at the school today?"

Ruby bit her lip. Not looking at him. "Maybe."

Oswald squeezed her hand. Guilt swelled in him like a burn wound. "I'm sorry. I never would have asked for your presence, had I known."

Ruby nodded. "I know."

Oswald paused, then asked. "Speaking in completely hypothetical terms...if you could have a child, what would you call it?"

The question took Ruby by surprise. She stared at him for a long moment, stunned, before looking down at her lap. Her fingers drummed nervously against each other. Each one was laden with rings. Iolite. Crystal. Alexandrite. Colorful, polished stones intertwined in thought before at last separating. Ruby spoke softly, almost in a whisper. "If it were a boy...Topaz. It's a stone that supposedly grants the wearer increased strength...and invisibility. It's good to be invisible sometimes." She added when she saw Oswald's perplexed expression. "Especially if you're in service. The less attention you draw to yourself, the better."

Oswald nodded. "And, if it were a girl?"

Ruby gave a sad smile. "Then...Garnet. It's a stone that represents bravery, self-confidence...and love." She swallowed. "I'd want my kid to have all of those things." She sighed. "But it will never happen."

Evening fell like a great dark cloak over Van Dahl mansion. As Ruby had suspected, a light rainfall dampened the earth. Every window in the mansion was steamed from the temperature differences and veined with water. The vegetable garden was a muddy patch dotted with green. Above their heads, the rooftop hummed as thousands of raindrops hit it like bullets. As the sky blackened, a dense fog formed just above the ground, blurring the line between sky and earth.

Ruby stared out the window, a bittersweet smile on her face, as Oswald added the finishing touches to the dessert. Well, one of them.

The two friends had spent the last three hours cooking everything from soups to appetizers to sweet finishers. It was hard to believe that everything now loading the table had come from the fridge. Ruby would have found it easier to believe that the gods had delivered these foodstuffs on their doorsteps. The menu included a five-pound pigeon pie, broiled oysters, pepper salad, devilled eggs, spice-rubbed whole chicken, artichoke hearts, crispy tater skins, whitefish, butternut squash, snow cones, lemon cakes, dumplings filled with bean paste, ice cream, and caramelized fruit.

More than once, Ruby popped a stolen bite or two in her mouth. When he thought she wasn't looking, Oswald did the same.

It had been...pleasant, but toned down. Ruby had scarcely said a word, but the silence hadn't been nearly as awkward as it had been earlier. The coldness that had been emanating from her all day had gone to room temperature. But it was still leagues away from the affectionate young woman who would pick him up and spin him around at the end of the day.

Oswald eyed the radio. He had gone through the channels to no avail. If only he could control the radio as well as the city.

"There." Ruby dried her hands with the apron, which she proceeded to remove. Hanging it, she said, "Mind if I go upstairs? I'm kinda tired."

"Now?" Oswald couldn't help feeling crestfallen. He glanced at the grandfather clock standing watch before them. "It's only six o'clock. Wouldn't you like to, perhaps, play a game of checkers?" Trying not to sound too desperate, he gave a little laugh. "I still expect to destroy your winning streak."

Ruby gave a tiny smile. "That is a nice thought. But...no." She quickly turned away. "Good luck for tonight." Oswald opened his mouth to say something. To call after her. Tell her to come back, that he didn't want her to leave. Yet his words failed him. Ruby marched up the stairs, never once looking back. She disappeared into the shadows. A few seconds later, Oswald heard the attic door open with a creak, then close with a slam.

Oswald sighed. Then, with a heavy heart, he retreated to his own room. Everything had to be perfect tonight. He could not risk getting distracted.

The night was still weeping as Edward scoured the wine section. He was not sure whether to pick red or white: the former gets you drunk faster, but the latter could only be coupled with a few choicy foods. After a moment, he decided to grab both.

But which both?

Edward sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Eyed his watch. Seven-thirty. It was late, but too be expected. When you do paperwork regarding two different fields of business, the hours pass by like seconds. But really, he would have liked a little extra time. His tired brain could not form a logical choice, and the store's soft music caused only a distraction.

Indeed, this music reminded him of something. A different time. A different feeling, and a different man who had hosted it.

It reminded him of love from another life. And its effect on his brain was growing like a cancer.

Trying to block it out, Edward concentrated on the two bottles in his hands. But a soft female voice disrupted his thinking. "Hard to pick the perfect bottle, isn't it?"

Well, at least it was a reasonable question. Returning the bottles to their dusty wooden shelves, he replied. "Well, it all depends on the region and the vintage." Then, thinking more deeply about it, he added, "Of course, you must consider the wine pairing." He turned to face the woman..and froze.

He was staring at a woman dressed in a black coat. Her face was heart-shaped, fair, and probably soft as cashmere. Her eyes were large, almond-shaped, and a deep sea-green. Lips full and pink. A cleft chin. Platinum-blonde hair collected in a bun, sharply contrasting her dark brows.

Edward felt...empty. Of anything solid, that is. He felt as though his insides had been scooped out with a cooking utensil, leaving space for a great, cosmic wonder. It felt as though a small galaxy were passing through him, each star and comet representing a compressed moment in his life. Those shining the brightest had been extinguished for so long, on the night that he had lost the love of his life.

"...Ms. Kringle?" The name came out as a rough whisper.

Sea-green eyes widened. "No. Oh, no. My name's Isabella." The woman replied, looking a bit surprised. Quickly devolving into embarressment, she added, "Um, sorry to bother you. I don't usually talk to people. There was just something about you..." She began to retreat when Edward, his heart in his throat, blurted out, "No, no, please."

Isabella slowly turned back around. "There's no need to apologize." Edward said gently. He swallowed. "You just...you remind me of someone that I used to know. A long time ago." He quickly looked away, his face flushing. For an instant, he thought that she would leave. He both desired and despised the idea. Instead, her voice grew closer. "You struggle to regain me when I'm lost. You struggle to obtain me. What am I?"

Edward could not believe it. He could only stare down at that familiar, yet strange face as indescribable feelings churned through him. Never before - not once - had someone given him a riddle. Answered? A few. Ignored? Countless times. But never before had someone offered him a riddle to answer.

Smiling, he answered: "Time."

Isabella grinned.

Edward, never looking away from her, finally spoke. "I'm Edward. Edward Nygma."