Chapter 56

For several hours after returning home, Ruby went through all of the activities that normally relaxed her. She had a nice, hot bath with candles surrounding the tub. She changed into one of her favorite nightgowns. It was a creamy-white, large and streaming like a tipped-over glass of milk. Her neck was completely covered by the collar, which had little pearls to serve as buttons. At the shoulders, the sleeves were puffy. With the soft, smooth fabric tracing her skin, Ruby crashed on her bed and buried her nose into a book, this time being Gone Girl, while munching on dried fruit. Then, when she began rereading the same paragraph over and over, she put the book down and began to clean up her room.

Ruby had always liked order. It was the way the world should be: everything in its place, everything in functioning order. As a few, feeble stars twinkled in the inky sky, Ruby stripped the bed of its sheets, tossed them in for a twenty-minute wash, then banished the moisture with her hair dryer. Afterwards, she cleaned her windows, put her clothes away, dusted her shelves, and swept her floor. Afterwards, her room was spotless. Impeccable. Just like she wanted to be.

Sighing, Ruby lay back down on her bed. The faint scent of lavender and fabric softener were of some comfort. She stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks.

Stay in the present, she kept telling herself. In the 'here' and 'now'. Don't think about downstairs.

But inevitably, her mind kept slipping down there. Ruby hated it, but found that she couldn't control her curiousity. Had Edward arrived? A glance at the clock confirmed that it was eight-thirty. Yep, definitely. They were probably eating dinner. The dinner that she had helped make...and it would feed him. The thought made her stomach turn. Of course, she had been making the food that had been nourishing Edward Nygma for the better part of a month. But she had used it to her advantage by adding her own personal ingredient to his drinks. Ruby never would have dared do that to Grace or her wretched children, for fear of being caught. Not before meeting Oswald.

Ruby closed her eyes, tried to control her breathing. She had been keeping the tears at bay since returning home and she was not about to lose the battle now. If she started now, she'd go on all night. Still breathing evenly, she pressed her palms against her closed eyes, forcing the tears back into their ducts.

What were they doing downstairs? Had Oswald told Edward how he felt? Or would he save it for later, hoping that they would both indulge in dessert...of the flesh. The image made Ruby shudder. She would be lying if she'd claim to never have imagined engaging in such acts with Oswald. Indeed, it was perhaps for the better that they hadn't fused in a while. Seeing her most personal wishes would have been worse than peeking into her diary. There were some things that she would not even trust paper with.

But beyond her own feelings on the matter, was Edward really right for Oswald? Ruby didn't care that this issue concerned another man. As long as they could make Oswald happy, Ruby wouldn't bat an eye if they were a man, a woman, a hermaphrodite, or trans. But Edward...he was different. He had strangled his own girlfriend to death after accosting her for months in the hopes of getting a date. Oswald had mentioned Edward 'gifting' poor Ms. Kringle with a cupcake with a live bullet sticking out of it. Had he meant to hurt her all along? Albeit subconsciously? And what if Edward did not return Oswald's feelings, but decided to play along anyway? Acting through Oswald, he could essentially rule Gotham in all but name. Ruby wouldn't have put it past Edward to do such a thing. From what she'd overheard Edward telling Oswald, the bespeckled man had manipulated several Arkham inmates into becoming his lackeys, going so far as to tricking them into supplying him with tools. Just like dogs. Fetch! Good boy! Here's a treat.

The idea sickened Ruby.

Perhaps, just maybe, Edward was capable of feeling love. Maybe he did return Oswald's feelings. But even then, what if he snapped and did to Oswald what he'd done to his former lover?

Simple. Ruby would slaughter him. Slice him right down the middle as though he were an apple. Rip his head off with both hands. Knock him to the ground and claw at his belly until his guts spilled out. She had no qualms about that. Hell, she would not even care if a jail cell awaited her afterwards. If Oswald died, it wasn't like she would have anything left to lose.

But...what if she was completely wrong? What if everything turned out the way Oswald wanted? What if Edward loved him back, and did so openly and honestly?

She knew that the possibility was there. It would be hard not to love Oswald. He was elegant and suave, silver-tongued and quick-witted. He knew when to back down from a fight, only to return for a rematch, harder and stronger. He relied not on his physical strength but his mind, and with it he had triggered a war between the Maronis and the Falcones. Oswald was strategic and logical, and always knew when to forgive and when to punish.

But beyond that...there was more beneath the cold, hardened surface. Ruby had seen it. Felt it, especially when Cobblair existed. He truly loved the ones who were close to him. He was loyal to a fault and generous towards his allies. But even deeper was something...sweet. Tender. As though a piece of his childhood innocence had been locked away, protected by life's hardships, and shone through when it could.

Ruby closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind...when something shimmered within it. Like the silver gleam in a swimming fish, or the splash of hazy color hidden in gasoline. She recognized it for what it was: Oswald's mind, still lightly tied to hers because of their fusing. She focused on it, ignoring everything else. All of a sudden she wasn't in her bedroom anymore, but at the dinner table. The lavish feast was spread out before her, growing cold. An empty spot at the end of the table mocked her. Empty plate, empty goblet, unused utensils. Tears plopped on her own dinner plate, which was littered with bread crusts.

With a gasp Ruby returned to her body. Realizing what she'd seen, she sighed. Seeing Oswald would no doubt hurt. After overhearing his little plan, being in his presence felt like a dozen hot needles were constantly poking at her guts. At her lungs. Her heart. But what kind of selfish harlot would she be if she just left him down there, hungry and crying?

Sighing, she climbed out of bed. Gathered her bathrobe, slipped it on. Then, carefully, she made her way downstairs. Even though she could hear the logs burning and smelled smoke, but nevertheless felt cold. As she descended, Ruby could also smell the faint, cool aroma of untouched food. Her sensitive ears picked up on distant sniffs. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep it together, before stepping officially onto the ground floor. "Oswald?" She called. "You down here?" The crying stopped immediately. Ruby rolled her dark blue eyes. "I can feel you crying, dude. No point in hiding it."

There came a profound sigh. Then, with the clack of glass against wood, Oswald emerged. He looked half a drunk and half a god. As always, he was dressed elegantly: black silk pants that she had mended for him just a few days ago, an ebony jacket with dense shoulder pads, and an opening that revealed just a small triangle of pale flesh. Ruby's own skin suddenly felt feverish, but her face was a polished mask. She examined him more closely. He reeked of vodka, and his eyes were pink and puffy. Just for a second, perhaps even less, Ruby felt satisfied by Oswald's suffering.

Guilt rushed over her just as quickly. Softening her voice. "He didn't come, eh?"

Oswald shook his head. "I...I don't understand. I called him seven times."

"Maybe he's stuck in traffic." Ruby offered. "Or maybe his phone's battery died. There are so many possible reasons, I can't even count them all."

Oswald sniffled and wiped his beaky nose. "I know, but..."

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Ruby sighed. "Look, it's getting late, and I know you ate light today at lunch. How about we heat some of this food up, watch a movie, and go to bed?" When Oswald did not reply right away, she added. "It's got to be better than sitting here all night."

Oswald stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "Alright."

Ruby nodded back at him. "Go change if you want. I'll heat up a plate for you in the microwave."

Oswald dipped his head. With his cane at hand, he slowly climbed up the steps. Ruby watched him go with a heart as heavy as gilded steel. Mechanically, she set to work, loading a plate of foods that she knew Oswald would enjoy. She stuck them in the microwave and left them there for three minutes, knowing that he liked his food piping hot. In the meantime, she set to work hiding the alcohol. Then, she wrapped up the remaining platters and put them away. By the time Oswald reappeared in the doorway, changed in a deep purple bathrobe, Ruby had placed the warmed dishes on trays before the television. When she saw him, she forced a small smile and gave a little gesture. "Shall we?"

Oswald nodded. A faint smile on his own face. Sitting down on the sofa, he said, "Please, nothing sorrowful. Or dramatic."

"Roger that." Ruby replied as she combed through the DVDs. At last, she found one. Smiling genuinely for the first time all day, she held it up for Oswald to see. "How's this?"

Oswald peered at it, no recognition in his icy-blue eyes. "Some Like It Hot?"

"By Billy Wilder, starring the sex idol Marilyn Monroe." Ruby informed him, wiggling the film seductively.

Oswald eyed it suspiciously. "If there are any explicit scenes, I'm leaving."

"There's one where she makes out with a main character." Ruby supplied. "But nothing explicit, no."

Oswald stared at the cover before shrugging. "Ah, why not? Mayhaps Miss Monroe may teach me a thing or two in the art of seduction." He gestured for Ruby to put it in. She did so, quickly claiming a seat next to Oswald. As they pigged out, the movie unfolded in black and white. The two barely said a word throughout the entire picture. They tapped their toes when a faux funeral home hosted a party complete with dancing girls. They jumped when Spats Colombo had his men gun down a bunch of card-players. They tilted their heads curiously when Monroe first appeared on-screen, in a tight black dress and accompanied by a snazzy musical growl. They laughed when one of the main characters, dressed as a woman, was pinched in the elevator and slapped the man in an outrage. They went 'awww' when the two lovers got together in the end and laughed at the final joke.

It was a fine time. No pressure. No problems. Just them, good food, and a film. As it had once been.

As the credits rolled, Ruby glanced at Oswald. He was curled up around a velvet pillow, a dribble of drool running down his chin. His eyes were closed, his hair disheveled. It was amazing, how sleep changed one's aura. In this moment, had she known nothing about him, Ruby would have thought him vulnerable. Sweet. Innocent.

Somehow, that hurt more.

Not too long ago, she would have grabbed a blanket and curled up beside him. But things had changed.

Calmly, she removed her bathrobe and draped it over him. Then, she collected the dirty dishes, washed them, and put them away. Without looking back she retreated to her room. As she closed the door, however, a dull whisper tickled her ear.

"Ruby."

She knew all too well who it was.

"Thank you."

She bit her lip.

"No problem."