Chapter 59

In the following weeks, a peculiar tranquility fell over the Van Dahl mansion. Ruby's scarred heart learned to beat once again, though it never ceased to sting when Oswald smiled at her, looked at her. Yet it was a pain that she learned to live with, much like her Master's death. She found solace in her work, pleased at the way it served the people. Each day, she read the newspaper and rejoiced at the positive reports. Crime was at an all-time low. The economy was running as smoothly as a well-oiled machine. Jobs were available at anyone willing to ask. It was a marvellous sight indeed.

Slowly, tensions died between Ruby and Oswald. It took time for Ruby to realize that both her love and her loyalty to Oswald could not die; they had to learn to coexist, lest they shatter their host. Bit by bit, the first deputy mayor learned to trust her friend again. They began to take a daily morning stroll in the gardens, when mist still hung over the flowery grounds. In the afternoon, when all the paperwork had been completed and their tasks done, they'd take a coffee or tea in one of the many sitting rooms, discussing lighter subjects. Once or twice, just for fun, Oswald invited Ruby to help him take care of a traitorous employee: someone who'd dealed with their enemies, or blurted out secrets to eager journalists. The two of them would execute the fool together, often as Cobblair, before quickly getting rid of the corpse. As the days began to grow and warm slightly, Ruby could almost look at her friend and not anguish over her unrequieted love.

Training continued, amped up to twice a week to aid Cobblair's path to a more stable condition. With each fusion, Cobblair's form gradually resembled a human. Their hair always remained black and curly, and their height stayed consistent. The extra pair of eyes never reemerged, nor did the hallucinations.

On the other hands, her relationship with the riddle-inclined Chief of Staff improved vastly. She had stopped adding her 'secret ingredient' to his beverages, and he'd almost immediately noticed. Ruby had to bite her lip when he'd claim that his drinks no longer 'tasted right'. Slowly, the two had gotten used to each other. Before long, they were chatting about safe subjects that didn't delve into personal grounds. Isabella was a frequent topic of conversation, and Ruby always ensured that they discussed her in Oswald's absence. Ruby would pry gently into Edward's budding romance, and he'd happily indulge. The only thing that seemed to give him more joy in this relationship was to share it with a willing listener. Soon enough, he began to shower Ruby with trivia and riddles; Ruby, in turn, demonstrated the extent of her powers, catering to the scientist in him.

One morning, as Ruby held a tiger-eye stone to the light, she spotted the mailman sticking something in the box. Arching a brow, she reached out. Her arm extended twelve feet, reached the protruding letter, and grabbed it. As the paper got closer, she held it up for inspection. When she tore open the envelope, a single slip of silvery paper slid out. When Ruby read its contents, her face lit up.

Five minutes later saw her slamming her eager fist on Oswald's door. "Oz!" She yelled. "Ozzy! Oz! Hey, mail call!"

Finally the door swung open. A half-dressed Oswald stood in the frame, his eyebrows scrunched together. "What the bloody hell's gotten into you?!"

For a second Ruby didn't answer. She had seen Oswald shirtless several times at this point. Usually, it had been due to sore muscles making it difficult for the mayor to bathe. Once, when the weather had been favorable, she had broken into his room and dragged him to the riverside, where they'd ended up bathing, throwing mud at each other, and bathing again. But that had been before Ruby realized her true feelings for him. Feeling her cheeks catch fire, she cleared her throat. Held out the envelope as her eyes rolled upward. Too late. She already had that image stamped behind her eyelids. That chest, white as chalk and scrawny no matter how many meals she crammed down Oswald's throat. His ribs were visible with every breath he took, with shiny scars scattered on the otherwise smooth skin. That neck, slender and soft like a swan's, with only the faintest hint of an Adam's apple. His skin was so pallid that Ruby could clearly see his bluish veins swirling beneath.

Her own blood boiling, she kept staring upward as the sound of ripping paper reached her ears. Then, there was a moment's silence. Ruby was about to ask if she should leave when Oswald suddenly laughed excitedly. "I cannot believe it!"

Ruby risked a look. "What?"

In response Oswald, who at this point had partially closed his dress shirt, stepped towards Ruby. "Oh, divine intervention!" Wrapping his arms around her waist, he scooped her up like a child would with a teddy bear. "The Founder's Day dinner!" He began to spin around like a drunken ballerina, holding Ruby all throughout. "I've been invited! Do you realize what this means?!"

For a moment Ruby was lost, and not only because she was being spun around like the wings of a fan. Then, a memory clicked into place. The Founder's Day dinner. An annual dinner for the upper crust to attend, meant to strengthen political bonds and blood ties. Once upon a time, it had been meant primarily to marry off girls from the ruling class to aristocrats and dukes. In exchange, those already powerful families would be granted even greater power and allies. Then, as nobility vanished (officially, at any rate), it had become a glorified meeting for the most influential people of Gotham to discuss the city's problems and solutions. All over a seven-course dinner with enough wine to fill an ocean.

Master had attended those parties for years. In her first three years of employment, Ruby had helped tailor his suits. She had been in charge in sewing diamonds into the cuffs. When one had broken off, she remembered, the Master had told her that she could keep it. Ruby had been so happy that she'd hidden it into her mattress, determined never to lose the token.

First, the father. And now, the son.

Ruby laughed, returning Oswald's embrace. Fully and truly. In that moment, light engulfed their bodies. A second later, Cobblair stood in their place. Dressed in Oswald's partially-buttoned shirt and Ruby's knee-length skirt. Blinking in surprise, they spoke. "Did you mean to...? No. Huh." Their voice kept dropping and rising as their collaborators conversed. They raised their hands, searching for deformities. The pattern of hairs weren't quite right, nor was the color: some were blonde while other were inky and sparse. The hands were a mixture as well: the shape was closer to Oswald's, but they were clean and heavy with rings like Ruby's. Looking in the mirror, Cobblair saw dozens of tiny differences that reminded them that their relationship was not what it once had been. But it was on its way to restoration. Day by day, inching closer.

Cobblair smiled. Light flooded them once more. Ruby and Oswald stood in front of one another, grinning. Oswald, fatigued by the previous movement, panted. "Well," Ruby ran both hands through her curly hair, "that's one way of celebrating."

Oswald nodded, still out of breath. "A rather joyous way."

Ruby blushed. "I'm really glad you were invited, Oz. Really. No one deserves this more than you do."

Oswald looked away bashfully, waving his hand at her. "Oh, hush."

"No, really." After a moment's hesitation, she took the outstretched hand. Ignoring both Oswald's expression and her own bubbling emotion, Ruby squeezed the hand in both of hers. Caressed it. "I...I think you're worth more than all of those so-called bluebloods put together." She swallowed. Tried to look into Oswald's eyes. "You're a treasure, Oz."

Oswald, moved beyond words, could respond in no other way than to pull Ruby into another tight embrace. Ruby gladly returned it, breathing in the sea-brine scent of his cologne and the flowery soap under it. Oswald, in turn, was lightheaded from his friend's scents: jasmine shampoo and vanilla body wash. These were comforting smells for both of them, transporting them back to more carefree, simpler days that had brought so much happiness. If there was any true 'con' about transmuting as Cobblair, then it was the lack of physical contact such as this.

At last, they separated. For a second, neither of them knew what to say. Then, Ruby asked, "When is it? The dinner, I mean?"

Oswald held up the invitation. His eyes bulged. "Tomorrow night." He bolted out of the room, grabbing Ruby's hand in the process. Ruby returned his grip as she ran after him, her head already swirling with ideas.

Two hours passed, heavy with cloth and bound by thread.

More tailors than Ruby could count made their way into Oswald's selected dressing room, using it for its titular purpose. As she perched on a velvet-clad chair, her jewel box in her hands, the first deputy mayor watched her friend be swathed in silks, velvets, and cottons. All in more colors than she cared to remember. Burly wood. Dark cyan. Indian red. Light coral. Medium orchid. They were all held up for inspection, pressed against Oswald's fair features. Some looked great, others awful; the rest settled in between. Yet none hit the mark for Oswald. Even Ruby's suggestions, fueled by sharing the mayor's mind, could not satisfy him. It was both endearing and irritating.

Finally, after Ruby had gone through half her collection, silently reciting facts and purging imperfections in the stones, Oswald found something. Not just 'something', but a coal-black suit made from the finest linen. As Ruby watched almost hungrily, the tailors measured both the outfit and the man wearing it. After arranging to deliver their payment after the suit's completion, Oswald made specific requests. The shoulders had to be filled to make up for his own hunched ones. The measurements had to be just a little wider than his own, so as to facilitate movement. The sleeves had to be pulled up slightly. It was less like ordering a suit and more like discussing war tactics guarenteed to crush the enemy. In this case, the enemy was anyone who would dare claim that Oswald Cobblepot knew not how to dress.

At last, the tailors left. Oswald stood in front of the mirror, breathing steadily and twitching. Ruby knew what that meant. She came up behind him, meeting his eyes in the reflective glass. "Try not to worry too much, Oz."

Oswald offered her a feeble smile. "I am trying, believe me."

"So," Ruby squeezed his shoulders, "what's with that look in your eyes?"

Oswald stared at her for a long moment, contemplative. He knew that she only wanted to comfort him, but nothing could make him forget her behavior not long ago. The way she had distanced herself from him, the way she'd avoided looking at him...it had made Oswald suffer like little else could. Not knowing the real cause had only made the situation unbearable. Only recently had he begun to feel like he'd gotten his friend back. More than anything, he feared saying or doing something that would shatter all progress they'd made.

But he had to try, lest he lose the habit of confiding in Ruby. That would be just as horrible to his eyes.

"I...would have liked to invite Edward to this party, but..." He sucked in the air through clenched teeth. Ruby bit her lip, looking away. Of course, Edward would be his first choice. Even if the bespeckled man had a woman in his life now, Oswald still pined for him. Ruby, on the other hand, would only be a friend to him. Knowing this fact was one thing; being forcibly reminded was another.

She took a moment to choose her words. "You could still try to ask him to go, as friends."

"Friends." Oswald made the word sound so bitter. He sighed, tore his eyes away from the mirror, and all but crashed in the sofa. His hand covered his eyes. He stilled. His entire body seemingly shut off. Ruby began to reach out to him, then hesitating. Deciding that she required aid, she slipped her arms down. Elongating like growing snakes, they slithered out the door. Guided by Ruby's mental blueprint of the house, they twisted down the hall and reached the kitchen. A bit clumsily, they found the fridge. One wrenched open the door while the other sought out a glass.

Edward, who had been reading the newspaper, suddenly glanced up. He watched as the two hands, attached to impossibly long and boneless arms, slowly placed two glasses on the counter. One was filled with gin, the other with Oswald's favorite blood-orange juice. Edward merely quirked a brow before returning to the paper.

A few minutes later, Ruby stood before Oswald. Two glasses sat in her palms. First, she held out the juice under her friend's beaky nose. The nostril twitched at the tangy aroma. Oswald sighed. "I don't suppose I could have something stronger?"

Ruby rolled her eyes. Calling back the blood-orange extract, she offered the gin. Oswald removed his hand from his eyes, looking like a man lost in the desert being offered a bit of shade. Taking the glass from her with a nod of thanks, he straightened. Began to nip delicately at the drink. Good. Ruby recalled last Fourth of July, when Oswald had finished off an entire bottle of champagne by himself. In three gulps, no less. He'd spent most of the remaning evening lying on the carpet and cursing himself. Ruby sat down next to her friend, taking a drink from the juice. She didn't say anything, instead letting Oswald speak. He took his time, instead sipping at the gin like a sparrow in a birdbath.

The silence between them was pregnant with warmth and comfort. The kind where one did not need to speak, and was content to let the quiet roll like an ocean wave. As she drank the orange juice, its sour and almost bitter taste coating her tongue, Ruby turned to her jewels. She ran her fingers over their solid, glassy bodies. Let their colors temporarily blind her. Listened to the satisfying clack's as they bumped against each other.

At last, Oswald sighed. "When I was a child, I never expected love to hurt this much."

Ruby closed her eyes. The old wounds in her heart tried not to break open. She sighed at their evident failure. "I know how you feel."

Oswald gave a humorless laugh. "My dear, you know that I care about and respect you. But believe me when I say: no, you don't."

Ruby was quiet for a second before speaking. "When you're with Edward, you feel like time's gone still. You want more than anything to hold him close and tell him how you feel, to cherish him and let him see you. I mean, really see you and not just look at you. You feel at home with him like you never have before, even if you were a seven-year-old with all the stuffed animals in the world. You never get tired of his company; even if you two are talking about work or not talking at all, you feel good to just have him there. You see Ed as this amazing treasure that you want to hold onto. Every little thing about him is a wonder."

Ruby swallowed hard. Took a moment to make sure that her eyes were still dry - mostly, at any rate. "So now that he's with someone else, it tears you up inside. Every time you see him, you just scream at yourself for not telling him how you felt when you had the chance. You blame yourself. You know it's too late, that he's happy without you. And every time you see or hear about her, you just want to scream and cry. You can't give up loving him, even though you know that he doesn't love you back, because loving him makes you feel..." she looked down at her hands. They clenched, then reopened like lotus blossoms. "...Human."

Oswald stared at Ruby. He had been staring at her for a while now. Eyes wide, lips parted. The gin glass abandoned, he hugged himself. Feeling like someone had cut open his body and peered into his soul. It was a strange, painful joy.

"That is precisely how I feel." He finally confessed. "But how do you know this? I thought we agreed never to look into each other's secrets as Cobblair."

Ruby chortled. "You're not exactly keeping it a secret, pal." She turned to face him. Hopefully, her eyes didn't look as moist as they felt. "But really, I'm twenty-eight years old. I've had plenty of flings in my life," she cracked a smile, "and plenty of crushes. I even had a crush on Charles, for a time."

Oswald nearly choked on his own saliva. "Charles? You mean...that Charles?"

"Yeah." Ruby nodded. "I thought he was handsome...and then he started talking."

Oswald blinked, then burst into laughter. Ruby did the same. They cackled like hyenas, even as their stomachs began to ache and their eyes grew teary. It was a breath of fresh, springtime air after the dark thunderclouds of rejection. At last, their stomachs' complaints forced them to stop. Wiping his eyes, Oswald nodded. "Indeed, I know. He was fine-looking indeed...until his last moments." He shook his head. "He was not easy to carve. But his sister kept moving, even after I slit her throat."

"I know, it was a mess." Ruby nodded, remembering that night. Their partnership had been born from vengeance and sealed in blood. She recalled how...charmed she had been with Oswald that night. That wild gleam in his eye as he'd stabbed Grace in the neck. How he'd mockingly raised his goblet at her bloody corpse before downing it. How giddy he'd been to reveal to Grace where her children were. That night had truly sparked what stirred in her now.

Ruby took his hand again. Squeezed it. "Oz...I know it's torture, believe me. But all you can try to do is be happy for Edward, and be the great friend I know you are. That's what you'd want if you were with someone, right?"

Oswald gave a dubious nod.

"And see if this Isabella is really the one for him. If she's good enough for him, if they make each other happy. If it's 'meant to be'." Ruby air-quoted the last three words. "If not, fine. Plenty of fish in the sea. But if so..." She gave a helpless shrug. "At least you'll be happy knowing your friend has found love."

Oswald closed his eyes. Dropping his head. For a long moment, Ruby wavered between leaving and staying. As she chose, rising, Oswald's voice reached her. "How will I know?"

She eyed him curiously.

"How will I know if this woman is right for him?" Oswald stared up at her with those pleading, icy-blue orbs.

Ruby felt her heart pinch, as though it were in the grip of an angry crab. "Talk to Ed about her. Better yet, meet her in person and see for yourself."

Oswald nodded slowly, his eyes clouding with thought. "Yes," he murmured, slowly brightening, "that is what I'll do."

Ruby smiled. Not knowing that Oswald would indeed follow her advice...but under vastly different intentions.