I own nothing but Nicki.

CHAPTER 20

"A friend is one who knows you as you are, understands what you have become, and still gently allows you to grow."

Nicki squinted into the car, trying to see the person who now held her captive. If it was one of Maroni's…acquaintances…she might be in luck. Word spreads fast, but not so fast that the cops would know her change in loyalty. She could hope anyways. However, no matter how much she tilted her head, she couldn't see his face, a hat covering the upper half and a beard the lower.

She yelped as he suddenly opened the car door, pulling her forward and using the fact that her arm was still trapped in the window as leverage to keep her from trying anything. She was now against the cold door frame and highly irritated.

"Do you have any idea who I am!" she snapped, making a futile attempt at pulling away. But he held tight, letting out an amused chuckle. A familiar amused chuckle.

"I sure do darling," she finally saw his face as he threw his head back, chuckling. Nicki's eyes widened and her face broke into a smile.

"Harvey Bullock," she said slowly, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "It's been-"

"Years!" he finished, hooking an arm around her neck and awkwardly hugging her around the door frame. She laughed in spite of the way this pinched her arm. Had it really been years? Maybe two or three, she reasoned with herself, trying to think back. "Crime must have slowed down! Although you'd think a damn social visit wouldn't have been beneath you." He uncuffed her and shut the car door, using it to lean against.

She gave him an apologetic smile. She couldn't remember how young she had been when she had started, but she used to report people to Harvey. Not any of her "real family" of course, but rouge criminals never did much good for anyone, and were more trouble than the mob could ever be. At least the mafia had rules, but the psychopaths, murders, and other various baddies needed taken care of and helping Detective Bullock catch them had been the closest she had ever been to being a cop. It also helped that they started their little partnership when he was still relatively new to the force so it definitely gave him an edge in the GCPD. "I've been…busy…" she muttered, guiltily. "And trying pretty hard not to show my face around too much. It was fine when we were younger and all, but neither of us should really be seen together anymore."

Harvey huffed and shrugged off her excuse. As if a corrupt cop was something new to Gotham. No one would bat an eyelash at him taking advice from the mob, especially when most of the officers were taking orders from them. He chose to let this slide though. "Yeah I'm sure are," he smirked, crossing his arms. "New job huh?"

Nicki gave him a confused look before noticing how he was eyeing her outfit with a mock judgmented look. She groaned, "It's not what it looks like."

"Turning tricks now?" he egged on.

"Hardly! I work for Fish Mooney now-"

"So like I said?"

She punched him in the arm and he chuckled. "Fish huh?" Harvey expected some whispered telling of how she was tricking his favorite underboss into this, or spying on her for that, but was instead shocked to see her brown eyes grow sad and watery. "Hey, what's going on Nick?" he asked, concerned suddenly lacing his voice.

"Nothing," she replied, too quickly. She forced a smile but her voice had taken on a chocked sound as if she were suddenly drowning. "Just…issues with a few mob related agreements…" She shook her head as if to clear it and fought to look cheery. Harvey scowled at her, but didn't push the issue.

"God you sure have grown the hell up though haven't you?" he changed the subject. She gave a grateful laugh. He had as well, but it wasn't nearly as endearing a comment for her to make. He was only fifteen or twenty years older than her but he looked much more worn and tired than he had when he was a spry, twenty year old white knight, saving Gotham one case at a time. "I mean don't get me wrong, it looks like I'd have to pay you to get into my car, but it would definitely cost a pretty penny." She laughed even harder, genuinely this time. He had certainly changed, but thankfully that Harvey humor was still there.

"Speaking of rides…" she started, letting her voice trail off.

Harvey cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You wouldn't mind giving me a lift to 3rd street? I'm sort of…in between places right now."

Harvey almost gave her a sympathetic look, but hid it quickly, knowing better than to show it. "Sure thing." He gave a mock tip of his hat. "M'Lady."

Nicki smirked. It had been awhile since she had actually slept at The Flea. This should be interesting.

Oswald was rummaging through the medicine cabinet, pulling out several items for examination. He had already inspected his neck and, as he assumed, had a scratch on his throat, slightly to the right and sickeningly close to his windpipe. After the first small wave of chills and relief had passed through him, a larger one of fear had struck him. Yes he was alive…but if Mother saw this…

He knew immediately that he had to cover the small wound. Even though it was barely visible, his mother had eyes like a hawk and never failed to miss the slightest bump or bruise on her precious son. He could already hear her fussing and lamenting over the damage to his person and was now desperately trying to prevent it from happening.

As he inspected the bottles and tubes he realized that this may be more complicated than he thought. They were all flesh colored, but one was a small bottle of a light shade, another was a tube that almost looked like a pen that leaked ivory liquid, and yet another was a tube as well but his one applied the pale skin colored fluid as a sort of paintbrush. And then there were powders. Don't even start with the powders. Some with brushes, some with poofs, some much darker than his mother's pale skin and one even looking to have a slight green tint to it. How on Earth did women manage with all of this? He could feel the well-used term, painted lady, that his mother was so fond of coming to mind. With a sigh, he struggled to swallow his anxiety and opted for just padding down a little of the liquid stuffs that best matched his pale skin.

The results were, adequate at least. He looked closely and decided that as long as he wore a colored shirt it wouldn't be noticeable. Hopefully anyway. Admiring his cover up in the mirror, he smiled in spite of himself. This girl hadn't even worked a day at the club yet and she was already proving herself to be of trouble to him. But he could already tell that he wouldn't mind too much. His life had already become much more interesting, and truth be told, he preferred that to safer and more mundane hands down.

abski0206- I am so glad that you're liking my story! It's really nice to hear that people are reading and enjoying what I'm writing. And I'm so glad you think I'm portraying Oswald well. That really is great to hear because he is honestly my favorite character. Robin Lord Taylor does such an amazing job of creating a real live human with such depth out of such a larger than life (typically cartoon-ish) character and I'm trying my best to stay true to that. I hope you keep reading and I hope you're doing well =)