Chapter 79

Several days passed. Quiet. Uneventful. Peaceful. Oswald was a prisoner - albeit a self-imposed one - and Ruby was the warren. Under her watchful eye, nobody got in or out without approval.

Before long, the friends fell into a familiar routine. Not unlike the kind they'd had at Van Dahl Manor. In the morning, Ruby woke up early to care for Beryl: everything from feeding her warm goat's milk to bathing her in the sink to dressing her. She'd barely have the baby dressed when the scents of breakfast reached her nose. Ruby would walk into the kitchen then, to find Oswald serving up plates of eggs (one set of them being tofu), toast, jam, and tofu bacon. They'd sit down and eat, chatting all the way. They no longer spoke of Isabella, or her fate. Ruby had decided that Oswald had been punished sufficiently for it; by her, at least. Besides, what kind of friend would she have been if she'd guilt-tripped him during one of his lowest moments?

After breakfast, Ruby would wash up and get ready for the day. Oswald would take care of Beryl during that time. At first, the baby was unsure of the beak-nosed stranger. But with time, and her caretaker's encouragement, Beryl came around. Before long she was tugging at that nose or loose tufts of hair at every oppurtunity. Then, once Ruby reemerged, the two of them would enjoy some quiet time until lunch.

Usually, Ruby spent that time going over her geology trivia both for the love of it and in case a customer asked her questions. It felt wonderful to reunite with gems again. After Beryl's arrival, Ruby hadn't been able to indulge as much as before. But at the same time, Ruby wouldn't have changed her decision for the world.

Oswald, on the other hand, spent the time avoiding the media as much as he could. As predicted, a swarm of journalists had crowded the mansion in search of answers. All they'd gotten was bitter disappointment. Oswald had further avoided both the papers and the news network. It felt nice to simply pretend that neither exist. That only this small, but tidy apartment existed. Instead, dressed in hand-me-downs that Ruby convinced Merc to lend her - clothes that he'd intended to donate to the Salvation Army - Oswald read and listened to music. It felt odd to go through belongings that were not his, but still managed to reach out and touch his heartstrings. Ruby would glance up from her jewels and books, and smile.

Then, at four o'clock, Ruby went down to the shop, leaving Oswald alone. For three hours he would stay that way, with only an infant for company. He spent much of that time reading, watching century-old films, and caring for Beryl. As he fed her, Oswald soon spotted tiny traces of Ruby in her face. They had the same nose, and the same large eyes. And, unless it was a matter of age, Beryl had the same hands as Ruby. It gave him both comfort and happiness: even though Ruby herself couldn't bear children, a part of her would live on in Beryl.

At seven o'clock, Ruby would return home, more often than not carrying take-out or accompaniment to dinner. After putting Beryl to bed, the two would eat in front of the television, watching whatever captured their interest.

Looking back, Oswald would decide that those had been the last happy days he'd had.

Then, on the seventh day of Oswald's voluntary solitary treatment, they got a knock on the door.

Ruby, wiping her hands dry of soap suds and scraps of food, peered through the door's peephole. A gasp escaped her lips. Oswald, who had been enjoying a glass of after-dinner brandy, looked up in alarm. "What is it?"

When his friend turned around, her eyes had become as large as hard-boiled eggs. "Barbara."

Another impatient knock. "Come on, Ruby! I know your boyfriend's in there!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Ruby snapped, color rushing to her cheeks.

"Whatever, keep on denying it!" Barbara replied. "But do it while letting me in. I wanna talk to Penguin."

Ruby scowled, arms crossed. Then, she looked at Oswald with question marks in her eyes. Oswald pursed his lips, then held up a hand. He downed his brandy in one gulp, then hissed through clenched teeth. Still breathing hard, he nodded at Ruby. Smirking, she obliged. Barbara burst in, wearing a coat that looked like it'd been fashioned from dead skunks. Her short, blonde hair was swept to one side, and pearls clung to her earlobes. The rest of her slender body was swathed in black.

She was carrying a newspaper in her hands and a smirk on her lips. When she saw Oswald, dressed in a baggy Deadpool hoodie and ebony leggings, she cracked a smile. "My, how the mighty have fallen."

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." Ruby rolled her eyes.

In that moment, a faint cry rose from her bedroom. Ruby excused herself before heading off towards it. Barbara watched her go, smiling all the way. She looked around, whistling. "A step down from the Van Dahl mansion, no doubt, but it's decent. And you got yourself a wife and kid, too, Ozzy? Man, leave yourself something to do in the future!"

Oswald, who still had liquid fire simmering in his guts, felt nothing but faint annoyance. "Ruby is not my wife, though any man would be lucky to have her. And Beryl is not my child. She is Ruby's ward."

"Thanks for filling me in." Barbara crashed into Ruby's seat. Oswald stayed where he was, waiting for her to spout her request. Instead, she plucked out the newspaper and began to read out loud. Each word was a pebble being pelted at Oswald. Mayor's resignation. Clearly disturbed. To Hell with the people of Gotham. Oh, Christ.

"What are you doing?" Oswald asked at last.

"I'm reading." Barbara held up the front page. His angry, colorless photo glared at him from afar. "Mayor Crumblepot. Clever, huh?"

Oswald bit his lip. "What did Ed have to say about this? I haven't heard from him in days."

"Who knows?" Barbara answered vaguely.

The lack of solidity in her answer affected him more than any of the article's words had. Ed, his beautiful Ed, stood before his mind's eye. Faint and almost see-through, but there. He should have let Ed know he'd be here. Before he could stop himself Oswald began to ask where Ed was, and if he called, but Barbara simply kept reading aloud. At last, she read, "...which begs the question: who is running Gotham?"

Oswald sighed. "Who cares what people think of the mayor? The city runs itself."

"What?"

Both heads turned to find Ruby, still cradling Beryl in her arms. The infant, wearing striped one-piece pajamas, was giggling in delight as an additional pair of hands sprouted from Ruby's wrists to tickle and stroke her. Yet Ruby's expression was stiff with conflict. Keeping her voice low to avoid startling Beryl, the young woman said, "Did I hear right? Oswald, the man who rode us all into the ground with his campaign, suddenly doesn't care what people think because his pet snake is missing?"

"He's not a snake!" Oswald snapped. "And you don't understand."

"Oh, I understand!" Ruby replied. "You wanted to be mayor more than anything, and now you're backing away at the first sign of trouble?" She scoffed. "This absolutely pisses on all the work we put into the campaign!" Even though she sounded angry, Oswald could see the sorrow and disappointment in her eyes. Then, she did the worst thing possible: she sighed, turned around, and retreated to the bedroom. Oswald watched her go with a heavy heart.

Seeing this as the time to resume their conversation, Barbara spoke. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about you being mayor. I meant your other job, the real one. You melt down in public and hide in your girlfriend's apartment?"

Oswald opened his mouth to correct her, then realized he lacked the energy to do so.

Uninterrupted, Barbara continued. "You do that, and people start smelling blood in the water."

Understanding, Oswald asked, "Who?"

"Tommy Bones. The Duke." Barbara replied as though the answer were obvious. "These gangs are holding, but south of the Narrows there's chatter. 'The king is dead, or soon will be'. That kind of chatter."

Oswald rubbed his face. Overwhelmed. "I need Ed." He admitted. "He's the only one-"

Barbara hit him on the head with the paper. "Listen to me! Ed's not here, I am. Tomorrow you'll get up, take a shower, and do that disco vampire thing with your hair. I will call a meeting with the heads of the families. You will come. You will be your old self, and the rumors will stop." She had since abandoned her valley-girl attitude, instead taking on an almost sombre air. It was odd as it was reassuring. If nothing else, it explained how she'd gotten any footing in Gotham's underworld.

But one thing nagged at Oswald. He voiced it. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because people think you like me, Ozzy." Barbara said. "And as long as they're scared of you, I get to keep breathing." She tossed the newspaper his way. It landed on his lap like a horse-fly. "Tomorrow. One o'clock. My place." She rose and marched out. Smiling darkly.

Oswald could only stare as the door closed behind her. Then, he looked back at the entrance to Ruby's room. Mute, he rose and finished washing the dishes. He then swept the table clean of crumbs and droplets. Still unsatisfied, he moved through the living room. Putting books back on shelves. Fluffing up the couch's pillows. Sweeping up the thin layer of dust.

At last, he looked around and was met with tidiness.

He turned back to the bedroom door. Breathed in.

Ruby was lying on the bed when he came in. Didn't turn, speak, or acknowledge his presence in any way. She had changed in her night clothes: a magenta nightgown with a buttoned-up collar. Her hair had been done up in a top-knot. Beryl was sleeping in the crib that Oswald had bought her only two days prior.

One was sleeping. The other wasn't.

Sighing, Oswald switched the saloon's lights off. Combined with the bedroom's duskiness, he could only see Ruby's smudged shape. She hadn't budged. Oswald followed his instinct and climbed into bed with her. Wouldn't be the first time. The sheets were clean and smelled like the same strawberry soap she'd used at home. He lay on his side, like her, and hugged her middle. Rested his cheek between her shoulder blades. For a while, neither dared to speak. It was a tense, but not unbearable silence.

At last, Ruby spoke. "It hurt me to hear you say that." Her voice sounded as though she'd been gargling hot asphalt.

"I shouldn't have." Oswald murmured. "I'm sorry."

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for." Ruby turned to face him. Their faces were inches apart. Neither could escape the words of the other. "You threw everything you worked so hard for under the bus. I understand why it happened that day. You saw your father and slipped up in your panic to reach him. But tonight? It's like you don't even care. You seemed more interested in finding Ed than fixing the problem." Ruby's eyes filled with tears as she concluded her words. She wanted to ask, what does Ed have that I don't? Do you really think he'll ever love you as much as I do?

But of course she couldn't say that, no matter how much she wanted to.

Oswald cupped both her cheeks. She covered his hands with hers. He looked right in her eyes as he spoke. "I felt that Ed could fix this situation. But moreover, I want him to appear so that I can see the drug's effects on him. More than anything, I want everything to return to the way it was. But fixing all of this?" He shook his head. "I have never been good with people, Ruby. Never. Aside from my parents, people have only ever walked all over me, laughed at me, or ignored me." He paused, wiping a stray tear of Ruby's with his thumb. "I just don't feel that I can do it alone."

Ruby cracked a weak smile. "You're not alone, Oz."

Oswald mirrored it. "Neither are you."

The two embraced. Held onto each other as tightly as possible. Light began to flicker beneath their skins as their electrons began to glow. Their luminescence turned night to day, making little Beryl gurgle in her sleep. In the bright heat, Ruby's skin liquified and seeped into Oswald's. Before long, all that was left of her was the imprint on the blankets. Oswald's hair grew curly. His thighs and legs became sturdier, healthier, and more feminine. His skin adopted a pale peach tone. His angular face became as round as a cookie. One eye darkened to indigo.

Sighing and content, Cobblair yawned. Hugged themselves. Then nodded off into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

Little did they know what tomorrow held.