Chapter 88

Mercury didn't know when he'd fallen asleep. No surprise. He'd been trapped in a blurry circle of rest, waiting, and caring for Beryl for what felt like days. Ever since that green-robed bastard had tried to kill the baby, Mercury had been here. Awaiting Ruby's return, or at least a phone call. Nothing.

Until he felt the weight of Beryl being lifted from his arms.

With a gasp he rose from slumber. His hand clasped around the intruder's wrist.

What he saw, he almost could not comprehend.

Oswald Cobblepot was standing over him, holding Beryl as though he always had. It was the same snobby-looking mayor that Mercury had run into several times...and yet it wasn't. Beryl was cooing and gurgling, playfully seizing that beaky nose. Peering closer, Mercury saw some key differences. The kind that send chills down his spine. A rounder face. Wavy hair. Flippers that had replaced hands. But the detail that drew Mercury's attention the most was the eye. The dark blue one.

His mouth suddenly felt as though he'd been gargling motor oil. "Where's Ruby?"

Oswald stared at him for a long moment. Then, he sighed. Sat down.

Mercury was quiet throughout the entire tale. He barely moved or blinked. He simply stared at Oswald with glassy, dead eyes. Then, when Oswald concluded the story by highlighting his altered features, Mercury finally reacted.

He tackled Oswald. The smaller man tried to push him off, but to no avail. Mercury showered him with punches and kicks, growling and cursing, until Oswald finally head-butted him. The younger man fell off, groaning. Oswald scrambled to his feet. Mercury glared up at him. "You know what I wish?!" He yelled. "I wish you had died and not her!"

Died.

"She is not dead." Oswald replied tersely. The word hit him like a blow to the chest. Dead. Dead. Dead. "In a sense, she is still alive - in me."

"A fate worse than death." Mercury snarled. Viciously, he spat at Oswald's feet. "Now, get out of here before I show you what I can really do!"

"I was going to anyway." Oswald collected the baby once more. Wincing at the pain in his face, he peered down at the child. She smiled up at him. Perhaps recognizing her guardian in him. Oswald's heart melted. "But first...I need to drop Beryl off in her new home."

"What?" Mercury suddenly didn't sound angry, but frightened.

Oswald turned to the younger man. His indigo eye was leaking tears. "Edward and Barbara will hunt me down. Maybe not now, mayhaps not tomorrow, but it will eventually happen. I do not want this innocent babe to wind up in the crossfire. Edward has already broken in here. He will do it again."

Mercury began to shake his head, but Oswald could see that the truth had reached him. "I - I'll keep her safe."

"You can't." Oswald replied. "But I know someone who will. Especially if he knows not who she came from." He looked down at the baby again. She smiled at him. He tried to smile back.

That night, a figure hurried through the streets. It wore heavy velvet, its face concealed. Its only definitive trait would have been its slight limp - but only if someone were to watch carefully.

It moved as swiftly and as silently as a shadow. Constantly looking over its shoulder, it sighed with relief each time it found itself to be alone.

Finally, it found itself in front of the apartment door. All it had taken was a knife and a well-timed strike to enter.

The figure stopped. This was the hard part.

Reaching deep within the folds of its robe, it extracted the crib. It was small. Portable, and warm. The baby still slept. When she'd awaken, she would be in the arms of her new father.

Oswald closed his eyes. The indigo one began to leak again. Taking a deep breath, he buried his hand in his pocket. Extracted an envelope stuffed with money. Five thousand dollars, to be precise. The first of many monthly amounts. Untraceable. Unable to be returned. And the note.

Trying not to cry, Oswald placed the crib down. He knelt down, hissing at the pain in his leg. Then, he placed the envelope under Beryl's arm. There. That was all. But he couldn't leave. He could feel Ruby's emotions filling him like fire. Undying love for this little baby, and a deep sorrow at the prospect of letting her go. But she also knew that, in this way, Beryl would be safe. Oswald sensed the understanding lined with sadness. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the baby's fuzzy head. A few more tears, hotter than summer rain, landed on the baby's face. Then, Oswald buzzed the doorbell and ran out of sight.

James Gordon answered the door. He looked around and saw no one. Had it not been for the baby's gurgle, he'd have retreated indoors. But when he saw the child bundled up at his feet, he stopped. Eyes widening, he knelt down. In amazement, Jim looked at the child. At her tufts of fiery hair and her big, green eyes. It was then that he noticed the envelope. When he saw the crisp dollars stuffed inside, it took his breath away. Then, he found the note.

Please care for her.
Her name is Beryl.
She's five months old.

Only three sentences to explain a life. Jim sighed, looking down the corridor, as a sense of confusion filled him. But then, the baby began to cry. He looked down, uncertain, before finally scooping her up - envelope, crib, and all - and bringing her indoors. After a few seconds, the crying stopped.

Oswald watched this unfold, a small smile on his rounded face.

Weeks passed.

With the help of Fish and Strange, Oswald prepared himself for the upcoming battle. At the suggestion of...what was left of Ruby, he began to search for the 'freaks' that he had ironically chased out of town. The part of his mind that no longer belonged to him spat out the addresses with relative ease. The closest ones were called upon first. Ivy Pepper, first. The woman with the green thumb; the one whom Ruby had saved from drowning. It didn't take her long to hop aboard. She still felt indebted to Ruby, and besides, she was bored.

Victor Fries was a tougher nut to crack.

The trip was a difficult one. Oswald and Ivy, bundled up like children, spent nearly a week travelling north. When they arrived, Fries' hideaway was little better than an igloo. At first, the ice man had been ready to crush Oswald's windpipe. Even Oswald's promise to aid Fries' recovery had done little to still his hand. It had only been when Oswald's sunglasses had fallen off, revealing his indigo eye. Fries had stopped. Sensing something - someone - different within his unwanted visitor, Fries had agreed. That eye had reminded him of the person that had made his escape possible.

Firefly soon followed for a similar reason. Firefly, formerly Bridgit Pike, pyromaniac extraordinaire.

In order to evade suspicion, Fish and Strange departed from the group. But they would reunite soon.

Before leaving, Strange had asked to speak to Oswald in private. When his request had been granted, the man had suddenly looked ready to cry.

"She was my finest creation, no doubt." Strange had admitted. "I cared for her like a daughter, like with all of my creations. But Ruby...she was special. She gave her life for yours...all I ask is that you not squander it." He'd looked straight in Oswald's eyes. "Can you do that for me?"

Oswald had merely blinked. Hard. "But she's not dead."

Recognizing defeat, Strange had departed.

Soon afterward, the small army had returned to Van Dahl Manor. It was filthy. A layer of dust covered everything, like a pale blanket. There was no food. Portraits and mirrors had fallen from the walls. Dry, dead leaves had swept in from the open windows. The air was crisp and cold.

But as he entered the saloon, Oswald smiled. "It's good to be home."

"FYI, I've been to Wayne Manor, and it's way cleaner." Ivy removed her gloves.

Firefly spoke coldly. "You didn't tell me Fries would be a part of this."

"You're a little hot." Fries growled. "Maybe you should COOL OFF!"

In seconds, they were aiming their weapons at each other. A flame-thrower against an ice-gun. Highly powered and deadly.

That is, it would have been had Ivy not spoken up. "Oh, come on, guys. We're all part of the same team now."

The duo continued to glare daggers at each other, weapons at hand.

Ivy added, "A family?"

The guns were put away. The glares died down. Firefly marched out of the room. "Keep him away from me."

Oswald barely paid attention to any of this. He could only stare at the painting, still on display. Once upon a time, it had been a tradition-turned gift. A portrait of himself to be added to those of his forefathers, with Edward added in as an apology. Now, it bore a huge, bright green question mark. Ruined. The discovery cut Oswald deeper than he'd expected it to. Somehow, he'd thought that Edward would leave their past intact. But no. Even that was unsafe from his wrath.

Fries' blunt observation brought Oswald back to reality. "There's a question mark on your face."

Oswald closed his eyes. Took a second to collect himself. Then, he said, "You can sleep in the freezer." Scowling, the ice man moved away.

Ivy, who had long since gotten comfortable on the sofa, called out, "Hey, Pengy! Check this out!"

Oswald's temper flared. He pointed at her as he approached. "Do NOT call me 'Pengy'! I..." The rest of his words died on his tongue. The flickering television screen stood before him. Edward's face, cackling at him. Two words glared through the screen.

Oswald felt a thousand transitions take place in his heart. Shock. Horror. Pain. And then, slowly, amusement. "'Riddler'?" He sniggered. "How long did he have to think about that one?"

Not for the first time, the realization hit Oswald. If it hadn't been for the Riddler, then none of this suffering would have transpired. Beryl would still be here. Mercury would still be talking to him.

Ruby would still be here.

Oswald flicked the television off. He turned to his troops. "Rest up, everyone." He instructed. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

It was no surprise where he decided to sleep. Ivy and Firefly claimed one of the guest rooms. Fries opted to sleep outside. But for some reason, Oswald could not bring himself to sleep in his own bed. It simply did not feel like his bed anymore.

Besides, he had another room to visit. He'd known that this moment would come, but he hadn't wanted to face. Now, it glowered over him like the summer sun.

With a click and a creak, the door to Ruby's bedroom opened. Slowly, he hobbled inside.

Everything was exactly as Ruby had left it. The bed was made, but dusty. On her desk, a small pile of glittering gems sat on a velvet handkerchief. Waiting to be examined. In the corner was a basket of dirty laundry. The rug was soft beneath Oswald's feet. Three unread books sat on the nightstand. The one on top of the pile, Christine, was marked halfway through.

It finally hit Oswald. It had been hiding beneath the surface for weeks. He'd always buried it deeper whenever it had reared it head. But now, it was rushing to the surface faster than he could grab the shovel. He had been telling himself that somehow, Ruby could come back. That she had never truly left in the first place. But now that he was here, surrounded by her things, the truth hit him like a ton of bricks.

Ruby would never finish Christine. She would never wipe the dust off her bed, throw back the covers, and sleep in it. She would never wash those clothes in the basket, iron them, and wear them again. She would never examine those gems, or file them away.

This room had been Ruby's whole world for almost a decade.

But now, bereft of her, it was empty. Soulless. And that hollowness would never be filled.

Just like the void in Oswald's life.

Oswald sat on the bed. It creaked under his weight. At this range, he could still smell her on the blankets. Lemons and rosemary.

There, surrounded by his friend's possessions, Oswald broke down. For the first time since that terrible morning, he allowed himself to mourn Ruby's passing.

It hurt like a thousand daggers. He cried more than he'd thought himself capable. But as dawn at least broke through in the east, Oswald felt it. Just a glimmer, but it was there. A warmth. A presence.

A ghost inside him. Here to stay.