This chapter features a song. To better get a sense of the intended mood, try reading it whilst listening to the song. It is called 'Wish That You Were Here' by Florence and the Machine. Here is the link: watch?v=dsWDUvuF0Xc
Chapter 71
Bruce had been nothing short of shocked when Ruby Sinclair, the first deputy mayor, had called him asking for hospitality. "Only for a week, at most." She'd assured him. "Just until I find a place of my own."
He'd asked her what had transpired. She hadn't answered.
So, here they were. Just a handful of hours later, they were eating vegetarian lasagna at opposite ends of the dining table. Bruce, dressed in a black dress shirt and trousers, shot a questioning look at Alfred. The butler simply shrugged his broad shoulders, as clueless as Bruce felt. The aristocratic teen turned to Ruby, who had barely spoken a word since sitting down. Her hair was done up in a top-knot, and she wore a diamond necklace. Perhaps both attributes were meant to distract one's attention from the red puffiness of her eyes.
"So," Bruce cleared his throat, "er...how are you?"
Ruby shrugged, not looking up from her food. "I'm alive." She said simply before adding, "And really, thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your letting me stay here." She gave him the briefest glance as she spoke.
Bruce waved her thanks away. "You saved my life, and you and Penguin helped make Gotham safer. You deserve this much."
"Can we please not talk about...him?" Ruby stabbed her lasagna. "Otherwise, I'll throw up this lovely meal."
"Ooh." Alfred's comment had both heads twisting. There was a playful smirk in the butler's tanned face. "Trouble in paradise, my dear?"
"Paradise?" Ruby frowned. Then, understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh, no." She shook her head, raising her hands. "He and I were not a couple. Not even close." She gave a dry chuckle bereft of joy. "He doesn't swing that way." Dropping her hands, she attacked her food again. "Probably for the best. If he and I ever did get together, he'd kill the first other guy who said 'hi' to me."
"Is that what happened?" Bruce asked, trying to be gentle.
Ruby growled. "I believe I asked-"
"Okay, okay." It was Bruce's turn to raise his hands. "Sorry. Really. We'll stop."
Ruby's anger faded. Suddenly, she didn't look furious. She just looked exhausted. Sighing, she rested her elbows on the table. Then, she began to rub her temples. "I'm sorry." She said sincerely. "You're hosting me, and I'm snapping at you like a wild dog. Sorry."
"It's fine." Bruce assured her kindly. He knew all too well how it felt to be on bitter terms with someone he cared for. Thus, keeping his word, he steered them into safer subject matters. The weather. Ruby's jewels. Business at Wayne Enterprises. The history of lasagna. Bit by bit, as the evening blackened into night, he saw Ruby unwind. She began to relax, move with more fluidity, and guarded herself less. By the end of the night, when they bid each other good dreams, she seemed almost as cheerful as she'd been that night at the party.
It wasn't until she'd retreated to the guest room that Bruce truly understood. As he passed by her door, toothbrush in hand, muffled sobs reached his ears. He stopped, listened for a moment, then quickly left. But still the weeping followed him, entrenching its sorrow into his heart. He had not heard such crying, he realized, since the night his parents were killed.
The phone down the hallway began to ring. Alfred was too far away to hear it - outside, taking out the trash - and Ruby was a guest. Thus, Bruce took it upon himself to answer himself. Hopefully, it wouldn't be trouble.
His hopes were dashed the moment he held the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"
"Mr. Wayne?" A strained, yet demanding voice leaked out. "This is Oswald Cobblepot."
"Oh." Bruce quickly gyrated to ensure that Ruby's door was still closed. Huddling up against the receiver, he spoke. "Er...what can I do for you?"
"You're young, but bright." Penguin's voice was as sharp as a leech. "I'm certain that you can make an educated guess."
Bruce sighed. "Yes, I can. My answer is no."
"Miss Sinclair is my business partner, on both sides of the spectrum. I need her here. The team is otherwise incomplete." Penguin may have been trying to sound calm, but Bruce could hear it. The man's supposedly calm mood was on the verge of shattering like sugar glass.
Bruce shook his head even though the older man couldn't see it. "I'm sorry, sir. But Ruby is an adult. I can't just put her in a box and mail her to you. This has to be her own decision."
"She's not thinking straight!" Penguin wasn't yelling, but he was close enough. "We had an argument, yes, but her emotions are clouding her judgement. She is thinking in the short-term. I am trying to rectify that."
"I'm sorry." Bruce said again, this time in a sterner voice. "But if Ruby wants to stay here, I will not stop her. The same goes for her leaving. But if this evening is any indication, she doesn't want to see you. Not even close." Unable to stop himself, he added. "She couldn't even say your name."
"What?" Penguin sounded as though he'd suddenly developed a sore throat. "No, that can't be. You, boy, are lying to me."
"I am not." Bruce replied coolly. "I think this conversation has gone on long enough. Best of luck." He hung up before Penguin could say another word. Shaking, but not out of fear.
The phone beeped monotonously in Oswald's ear. Adding oil to the fire.
"Why, that pathetic little-" He was tempted to throw the phone out the window, but he held himself in check. Perhaps Ruby would call, and how could he answer if the telephone was broken? Trying to calm down, he placed the receiver back in its place. Sighing, he crashed into his armchair. He cradled his face in his hands, if only to pretend that he wasn't crying.
Edward had taken the news badly, even though he'd done everything to hide it. He'd been in his office, working busily, trying to distract himself, when Oswald's timid knock had penetrated the silence. Edward had tried to smile, then casually asked when Ruby would come home. He'd even ordered from her favorite vegan restaurant. Oswald would have broken down right then, if because of what could have been. The three of them would have been sitting in one of the many dining rooms, take-out cartons on their laps and playful arguements over which film to watch. Edward may have wanted something cerebral, food for thought - perhaps Unthinkable or 2001: A Space Odyssey. Ruby would have favored an old black-and-white classic, like Bride of Frankenstein or The Mummy. Oswald would have been sitting between them, spooning ratatouille into his mouth and rolling his eyes. They would have at last settled on something, and spent the rest of the evening cracking jokes or commenting the film's quality.
But none of that would happen. Maybe, it never would again. It was gone. Vapor. Less than a dream.
Oswald had quickly updated Edward on Ruby's situation. He still didn't know why he'd spoken so fast. Perhaps, subconsciously, he'd hoped that saying it rapidly would hurt Edward less. He couldn't have been more wrong. Edward, not understanding - or maybe not wanting to - had asked for an explanation. The look on his face...Oswald would never forget it. He looked almost as torn as he'd been regarding Isabella's death. Grimacing, the mayor told the story that he'd prepared in advance: that he and Ruby had had a verbal jousting so grave that Ruby had packed her bags and left for Wayne Manor. Edward had, of course, asked what could have planted such wrath between them. Oswald had shrugged, saying something unclear about built-up disappointments.
That night, dinner had been one of the most tense affairs that Oswald could remember. Even his evening meals with his father and horrid stepfamily had been better, because he'd been too brainwashed to notice the latter's malevolence. Edward had picked at his food, staring out into the void, and giving only the briefest responses to Oswald's attempts at conversation. Oswald understood, though he wished that he didn't. Edward had lost his girlfriend and a good friend within days of each other. Oswald considered calling Wayne Manor again, this time insisting on talking to Ruby, and trying to guilt-trip her into coming home. "Don't you want to be there for Ed?" He thought of saying. "He's going through so much, he needs all the support he can get." But each time, he stopped. He refused to appear too desperate, especially when the Son of Gotham was there to witness it all.
Thus, here he was. The most powerful man in Gotham, sitting in a gigantic house. Painfully. Utterly. Alone.
For the next two most laborious hours since his days as an umbrella boy, Oswald tried to distract himself. He had a few inadequate underlings come into his house, most likely interrupting their meth parties, and shot them in the head with the same indifference one would when swatting a fly. But blood couldn't wash out his dark thoughts, even as it stained his cherrywood floor. Ringing for Olga, he departed for the upper floor. There, Oswald peered through the window. At his father's final resting place, just a few feet away from the apple trees and vegetable patch. Oswald's heart lurched from the old wound. But the newer one burned through. He tried reading 1984, one of his favorite sci-fi books, while attempting to enjoy a hot bath. The former brought back pleasant memories. The latter got him clean. Neither cheered him up.
Sighing, Oswald was about to hit the hay early when a thought occured to him. He knew every inch of these grounds...except for, currently, Ruby's room. What had she taken? Clothes and toiletries, surely, and her jewelry. But had she taken any books? If so, which ones? Had she pocketed a few photos, too? Perhaps some of her posters?
Suddenly drawn to the attic like a sheep towards honey-stalks, Oswald reclaimed his cane and made his way upstairs. It took him a good ten minutes, but he was hardly visiting someone.
At last, he stood before the door. For the first time, Oswald noticed its state. Every other door in the house was polished like a wooden mirror, filed down to avoid scraping against the floors, and were repainted every ten months or so. Ruby's was not. The wood's paint was peeling away in strips like dandruff. Its edges were chipped. The knob, once gleaming, was now a dull bronze sphere.
Taking a breath, Oswald pushed the door. Unlocked, it swung open. Inviting him inside. Oswald stood there. Unable to proceed. Then, at last, he found strength in his mangled legs again.
The sight waiting for him took his breath away.
Ruby hadn't taken some of the photos - she had taken all of them. But the posters had remained, perhaps too large to be folded and carried away. Somehow, despite their familiarity, they made Oswald sad. One poster was of Bram Stoker's Dracula, famously interpreted by Bela Lugosi. He remembered watching it for the first time with her. Ruby, just for fun, had morphed her face to resemble the actor. When he'd turned around to suddenly find a vampire sitting next to him, Oswald had yelped and tumbled out of his seat. Ruby had teased him about it for days afterward. Another was a geology chart, meticulously organized via color. Shaped into a rainbow-themed wheel, the jewels were placed into certain ranks where they were labelled.
The final poster...oh, wow. Oswald felt a sting. It had been his slogan for the election campaign. Make Gotham safe again. There he was, standing in front of the American flag, his hair brushed back and a finely-tailored blue suit screaming of professionalism. Oswald felt his throat close up. He had been in here half a dozen times, and he had never bothered to notice the poster.
There seemed to be quite a bit of things that he'd failed to see.
Oswald perservered in his examination. The only books missing were the ones that Ruby hadn't read yet. The only clothes missing were those for the warmer seasons. All of the sheets and towels were still there.
Hesitating, the mayor looked under the bed. Wondering if he'd find an ugly surprise like last time. Kneeling, he reached under the quilt and found papery surfaces. Bringing them to light, Oswald was relieved to see that the fashion magazines were gone. By guilt or by hatred, he didn't care so long as they didn't return. But the Arkham files...they were still here. Beyond that, however, Oswald found nothing except for a few mixtapes. Curious, the mayor selected the most recent. The only one with his name on it. As a strange shiver ran down his spine, Oswald rose with the tape in his hands. Quickly spotting the boom box, he slid the tape inside. Waited.
The air was tickled by strums of...what was it, guitar? Nevertheless, he listened, sitting on Ruby's bed. The beginning was calm, yet alive, like a shoreline. A sweet voice began to sing,
"I've tried to leave it all behind me
But I woke up and there they were beside me…
And I don't believe it but I guess it's true
Some feelings, they can travel too."
Oswald leaned back, listening, as dozens of different emotions flooded the room. Passion. Sorrow. Nostalgia. Thoughtfulness. So much, in such simple yet poetic lyrics. Why had Ruby chosen this song for him? Why did it remind her of him? Oswald sat still, as if moving would disrupt the flow of the melody.
"Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest
Makes it hard to catch my breath
I scramble for the light to change
You're always on my mind…
You're always on my mind…"
Ruby closed her eyes, hiccuping and folding her hands behind her head. She'd changed in an oversized T-shirt and shorts, but the loose clothing had done nothing to relax her. If anything, it made her feel worse because the soap wafting from them reminded her of home. And, by extention, of Oswald. Another tear ran down her face, joining the others in her pillow. Ruby had cried more in the past couple of hours than she could remember doing for months. Her eyes were aching and sore, yet the tears kept coming. Split deep within her was the indecision between staying and returning. Rationality told her that she had done the right thing. But her heart screamed and wailed like a petulant child, urging to be reunited with its sweet poison.
Because love really is a venom. Sweet as honeydew and light as clouds, but it kills you all the same. Ruby was fairly certain that if she dug her claws into her belly and tore the skin away, the interior would be black and sticky with rot.
Ruby sighed. Defeated and exhausted, she reached out. There was a state-of-the-art radio on the other side of the room. She reached it without having to get up - or even sit up. Her hand pressed a button, then rolled another. Familiar tunes rang through the room like cymbals. Ruby leaned back, both soothed and hurt by the words gushing forth. Softly, she began to sing along.
"And I never minded being on my own
Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home
To be where you are
But even closer to you, you seem so very far."
Involuntarily, images began to spring forth. Flashes. Sounds. Smells. Pockets of time, preserved like precious fossils. Everything from the beginning to the end. Everything that had swarmed Ruby's mind when she'd first heard this song, continued to sense as she'd added it to her mixtape, and was seeing all over again. Oswald, then a stranger, dripping and shivering in the rain. The necklace of varied stones that had gone from her neck to his. Their chats, back in the early days, hovering over peeled potatoes and polished boots. The night in which they eliminated the filth that had killed Master. The dinner that had followed.
"And now I'm reaching out but every now I see
And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind
Risings have surround you and whispers in your ear
Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here."
Ruby stared up at the canopy, softly singing along, as the tears continued to flow. The memories, too, flowed over her like the ocean's waves. But as the song continued, and the recollections became increasingly recent, they soured like grapes. Edward's presence hovering over their lives like a stormcloud. Oswald never giving up on his friend, always praising him and pitying him, as if forgetting the riddle man's betrayal. That frosty conversation at the burger joint during Oswald's brief absence. The rivalry, peppered with Ruby adding a special ingredient to Edward's drinks. The electoral campaign, and the 'monster' speeches. Supplying said 'monsters' with the means to start a new life somewhere else, and living with the guilt that some had ignored her offer. The viral video.
"And if I stay home, I don't know
There'll be so much that I'll have to let go
You disappear in all the time
But I still see you in the light."
Wanting to die. Being saved by Oswald. Fusing with him. Training. Becoming more in-sync with each other as Cobblair. Jealousy. Cobblair temporarily going beserk. All of those reconciliations, like that first, icy drink of water after crossing the desert. The Founder's Dinner. The party celebrating Oswald's victory. Oswald's intimate hug with Edward. Ruby heading downstairs to tell Oswald the truth, only to hear the very words she had had nightmares about. All of these memories, all of these snippets of time, lost chronology in favor of emotion, some tinted blue with healing while others reddened with hurt.
"For you, the shadows fight
And it's beautiful but there's that tug in the sight
I must stop time traveling, you're always on my mind
You're always on my mind
You're always on my mind."