CHAPTER 5

This was not how Rubi wanted to wake: to be conversing with a man questioning her, speaking coherently, and observing every little fiber of her being. How was it that he could look at her, and make her feel so exposed? His eyes were deep pools that remained unreadable and yet consistently prying. A part of her wished that he was still asleep; unconscious as he was a few days ago. She wished she hadn't volunteered to keep watch of him as he recuperated, which led to her sleeping in the same room across from him.

"Rubi, how do you know this man?" Sister Lucy had asked a few days ago.

"He's a friend," she had wanted to lie, but ended up saying "He's...someone who saved my life."

"He'll need to rest for a while, I can't guarantee when he'll be awake, my dear."

"I'll stay here with him, Sister Lucy."

She hoped that the old nun did not suspect anything more to her decision to sleep in the same room. The last thing Rubi wanted to do was cause panic in the old nun if she had found out that this man was truly a stranger to her. Sister Lucy didn't say anything more to it, nor did she ask any other questions about her relationship to Oswald. The reason for her being in the same room had nothing to do with 'caring', but more of a way of protecting the nun from the stranger.

Rubi wanted to make sure that Oswald was not going to wake up at any moment and attempt to do harm to any of the nuns of St. Katharine Drexel. She was determined to keep a close watch of him just in case he had murderous intentions or take unkindly to her saving his life.

This very fact was hidden from Sr. Lucy, of course, and Rubi made sure that the old nun didn't know. She was also grateful that Sister Lucy showed no signs of wanting to know Lucy turned a blind eye to the items that Rubi had brought with her when she encountered the nun that night: the stolen wallets, the two guns, the clothing. In agreement to the nun, the items were placed in a locked drawer in the very same room Rubi and Oswald were staying in. Sr. Lucy had kept the key—of course oblivious to the one item Rubi snuck out of her site—although she wouldn't be surprise if the nun knew her suspect, but simply decided not to say anything about it...

And now he was awake, and questioning her very motive.

"You could have simply left me there, and yet here I am!" He raised an eyebrow, "alive and well, all thanks to you and that nun who no doubt turns a blind eye to our predicament and how this came to be. Why is that?"

How many times did she had to tell him?

"Like I had told you...You saved my life, and I returned the favor."

"How noble...But I think there's more to it than that," he tells her and watch as her brow furrowed... He was right. "You think I can help you somehow, that I'll have the right ties to help you from Kingsley"

She was surprised he'd even remember Kingsley's name or that he took note of it, especially during the event of that night in the Underworld. A part of her wanted to shake him, to let him know that the very thought that perhaps he'd be able to have the proper ties to aid her of ridding of Kingsley's wrath was even possible. How badly she wanted to explain to him that in the days he was asleep, she spent countless hours thinking, praying, even daydreaming that she had in fact saved someone important enough to have the proper connections to Kingsley's boss, Maronni, or perhaps Falcone to get the protection she needed... only to realize that he was probably as hopeless as she, and that she probably saved a man for nothing. And that she had saved him truly out of her own humanity.

And then it hit her, the ridiculousness of the situation she found herself. Who had thought that one day she'd find herself running away for her life, and in turn complicating it by saving this worthless man's life... and to live a day in which he had the audacity to even question—to question—her humanity, her motive? Was it necessary? Didn't he realize that he was a dead man walking, just as her? Didn't he realize who he was speaking to?

Rubi was no simpleton, and while a large part of her did save him out of some semblance of kindness for mankind, she had also considered the possibility that he could have been someone who was able to help her—although that reality, she realized, was highly doubtful.

She shook her head and found herself laughing.

She laughed because she realized that she was nervous around a stranger that was probably as pathetic and hopeless as herself. She laughed because a part of her shook herself and berated herself for even struggling up the channels of the Underworld to carry his body to safety and to expose the only woman whom she considered family in danger.

For what?

He didn't speak to her in a threatening way, more of one in exasperation, perhaps disbelief as well, and of course a suspicion. Such feelings were not unfounded—Rubi was the one with the upper hand, not being as badly wounded as him. With that realization in her mind, Rubi decided that there was no need to be nervous around this man. If he had bad intentions, or wanted to hurt her or the sisters, he had no weapons to do so, and was no doubt still weak from the lost of blood, fever and wounds. She was certain that she could easily take him down if need be—although she doubted he would be the kind of man that she'd have that issue with.

And so, she decided to pull herself together and show to him she was not afraid of him. She straightened her back, as she looked right into his surprised eyes—a look she was so pleased to excite from him and moved close to his bedside until he had no choice but to look up. She found herself taking a few steps until she stood in front of him, instead of leaving the room as she intended. He was surprise at first, and then looking up at her with those steely eyes he spoke.

"I wish what you said were true, but I've already deduced that you're in no way a help in my situation." Was he holding his breath? Was he nervous now? "We're the same... a noose already around our heads."

We're both already dead anyway, so why bother fighting each other? Is what she wanted to say.

He doesn't say anything to this and then when he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off.

"Do you mind?" She asked as she looked at the side of his bed, there was a space where she could sit. For a moment he wondered why she had decided to sit next to him, but then realized she came close to get a closer look.

He nodded his head and felt the bed shift slightly as she sat on it. The movement was light and didn't bother his leg or arm wound. Her presence so close, and her look of concern so sincere as his eyes met hers. He felt an odd warm feeling in his core—which he quickly brushed off. He wondered where their path where to go now.

"The thought of you being somewhat helpful came to mind I won't lie to you," she told him, her lips in a thin line, an air of seriousness about her. "Of course, I know now more than ever how you can't help me in any way."

Oswald adjusted his seating carefully, his back against the headboard of the bed, his shirtless torso exposed with bandages.

"And yet you've kept me alive even after you realize I'm worthless to you?" It wasn't a question; more of a statement.

"Would you had me kill you instead, right here inside a convent?" She retorted back. She shook her head in humored disbelief, "Do you really want to die so badly?"

He smirked at her, "If I tell you I did, would you be kind enough to return to me my knife so I can finish this life as I intended?"

She crossed her arm, and raised an eyebrow. "I'll let you do that; let me just go ahead and grab your gun too."

"You're being sarcastic," he pointed out matter-of-fact, "I'm surprise you seem well after the alternation you'd had." He wanted to catch her off guard and he did, because again her facial expression change, her smirk disappeared and she looked out the window.

"Don't remind me of that night," her eyes fixed to the window in the room, to the right of the headboard of Oswald's bed. "Those bastards...I could have died if you hadn't..." She trailed off, and didn't continue on. He didn't blame her for trying to forget.

"My reasoning for saving you wasn't gallant, believe me," he reminds her which seemed to trigger something in her and cause her to frown at him. He watched as he glimpsed the ever careful facade break away so lightly—an anger or hard determination there—and then carefully it was placed back again.

She simply smiled at him, "Whatever the reason, I'm glad you got me alive and those men...are right where they should be."

"Why were they after you?" He decided to ask.

"Perhaps for similar reasons why you found yourself trying to escape Gotham with a bullet almost through your leg," she looked at him, her gaze more stern. It was clear she was not willing to share, and this was something was not surprise with. He did however could see that he slowly chipped at her facade.

She changed the subject as he carefully studied her, taking a deep breathe to settle herself.

"We've patched up your arm—it'll take several days to heal," she told him, matter of factly, blatantly ignoring his question. It was clear she was not willing to share, and this was something was not surprise with. He did however could see that he slowly chipped at her facade. He saw her steady the shakiness in her hands, the nervous tick of her hand brushing away a strand of her hair behind her ear. He could give her that, he thought, and allow her no further question.

He was still not sure if knowing more about Rubi was worth anything more to him that what it already did. He had a feeling that they were to part ways soon.

"The bullet grazed, so you should be fine." She continued on to him, and then averted her gaze to his legs hidden beneath the covers. Oswald already knew what she was to say.

"As for your leg...Sr. Lucy says that their will probably be permanent damage, due to where the bullet hit and also due to all the pressure from the trek."

"I knew that would be the case..." he said, his voice raspy still. He ran his good hand through his ruffled hair, sleeking it back, away from his forehead in thought. What was her prerogative? Did she know who he was?

He could clearly see that his awakened presence made her uneasy, and he knew she wanted to leave and a part of him was determined to make their interaction longer.

He was about to say something more to her, until she made a move again to leave. "I'll be right back, I'll get you something to eat and let Sr. Lucy take a look at you."

He didn't say anything else at that and simply watched her as she left.

.

.

.

Oswald didn't see Rubi return for a while, but instead an old elderly nun who introduced herself as "Sister Lucy", greeted him with his meal and a warm smile. He returned her greeting with a nod and a smile as she placed the tray of food on his lap, and pulled a chair next to his bedside.

He had not realized how hungry he was until he saw the food, and he found himself eating ravenously as the nun relayed to him about his conditions and how they had fixed him. He listened to the nun carefully relay the night of his arrival, asking little diagnostic questions here and there, and listening to his short responses. It surprised him that not once did the nun show any interest in his relationship to Rubi. All of her words and plethora of questions were regarding his current condition.

"How is the leg, my dear?" She asked taking the empty tray away from him, setting it aside and then pulling the bed sheet away until his bare legs were exposed.

The bruises were there, as well as the stitches and bandages present. It was no pretty sight, Oswald knew, but he kept his eyes at his wounds to force himself to embrace the reality of his scars. Sr. Lucy continued on in her check-up.

A few tests proved that Oswald still had feeling on his leg. His own stubbornness to stand against the nun's horror and protest, led him to realize that he could still stand—or perhaps stumble about—and bare through the searing pain and hubble about. He of course was certain that if he planned on leaving soon, he needed crutches.

Against the nuns protest, and his insolence, she agreed that she'd provide him the crutches and that the choice were his if he planned to leave soon, although she stressed, "If you don't rest that leg, you may find yourself not walking properly again."

At that of course, he didn't tell her how he'd had issues with his gait long before the gun shot wound, but decided against it. 'I doubt, I'll see her again anyway,' he thought. But the only words that came out in reply were a mere "All right" from his lips.

The elderly nun's worried gaze and persistent begging made him return back to laying on the bed soon after. Sister Lucy helped him with gentle and patient hands as he was seated back down on the bed, with his legs outstretched before him and his back against the headboard.

Once settled, the old nun left him as quickly as she appeared, but not before she told and he found himself once again in Rubi's presence.

Before leaving the door he heard the old nun whisper to Rubi, "I wish you'd reconsider your plan to leave, he needs more time, my dear."

"It's already been decided," he heard Rubi whisper back as she bid the nun goodbye.

Oswald wondered if they realized he heard their exchange, but chose to pretend he was oblivious to it as Rubi turned her attention to him.

"She just said you'll need more rest here for several more days," she lied to him as she sat on the bed across from him. It was clear she didn't expect for him to have heard their exchange so clearly

He nodded, "Ah of course, she did stress that multiple times..." He notice her shift on her seat, "Although, by the sound of your brief exchange that is something I will not be privy to, am I right?"

A pause.

"Yes, you are right." she began, "I know you can't walk very well right now, and that it'd be best if you stayed here for several more days... but I hope you'll understand that I can't let you stay here any longer."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" He asked her, his brows furrowed. Oswald knew full well the very reason—he had even imagined the scenario—but wanted to see Rubi's reaching, and allow her to unveil what he hoped would be the outcome he had thought out.

"Oswald... We're safe here for now, but we'll need to leave-"

"We?" He raised an eyebrow, this time almost amused. He knew he would be asked to leave, but had no idea it would be with her.

Rubi nodded her head, a look of determination in her eyes.

"Yes," she said, "Unfortunately, I can't allow you to stay here too long, same as me. I can't put Sr. Lucy and everyone here at risk like that."

"I understand," he said, noting a tone of protectiveness and worry in her voice as she spoke about the elderly woman. "I'll be out of here once I get back all of my things," he looks at her pointedly, "My clothes, my knife, money—everything I had on me—long before we came here."

"Everything is in that drawer, minus your weapon, of course." She pointed at the bed stand and its drawers.

"If I wanted to kill you, wouldn't you think I would have done so already?" He asked her, almost threatening.

"No," she said matter-of-factly, "You wouldn't have in your prior state; you were in bad shape—you still are—so the more you threaten me, or try to, the least likely you'll be getting any of your stuff." She seemed irritated by him, very defensive. "Also, perhaps you should thinking that if /I/ wanted to kill you, I would have already. Fair?"

He raised an eyebrow at her audacity, surprised at her fire. He could appreciate that, he thought. Oswald sighed as he arranged himself better in the bed, realizing that he was shirtless and exposed to the air, and only wearing a pair of boxers. He didn't even want to think about how he ended up undressed, or who assisted him in doing so. He tried to brush that off completely. He also didn't want to end up out on the streets in nothing but his underwear, due to him having rubbed Rubi the wrong way.

He changed his tone of voice and his demeanor, perhaps he should speak to her with more sweetness. He softened his gazed on her, "I apologize," he said, trying his best to sound sincere, and he wondered if she'd notice for she doesn't show a response, "Perhaps I should thank you for your help, and accept it's termination as you state." He is met with an equal raised eyebrow; some part of him doubted that such tactic would work on her, but he still was uncertain.

She had a determination about her, especially after her near-rape incident. She had her defenses up, her eyes roaming him, studying him and waiting for him to attack. Funny, he thought, he didn't have the incling to do so. A part of him somehow felt that this woman would help him in his goal to leave Gotham somehow; or at least guide him until he exited Gotham successfully.

Unknown to him, she was very protective of the elderly nun. He was certain that she would not leave until he left as well, and that although it would be for her betterment that she would have left already, she had stayed not to care for him and watch him get better—but to ensure that he would not end up hurting the nun who had helped him. Yet, he was also certain that her core being and character had in it a kindness that was determined to aid those who helped her. And he was sure, she counted him as her rescuer, and she needed to even the debt.

"We'll be heading out of here tomorrow, before day break, now that you seem up and well enough to move."

He looked outside the window, noticed that was light outside. He turned to her, "We set foot out there, and we're both better off dead. They'll sure to find us." He tells her. He wasn't sure who her 'they' were, but he didn't doubt that she was running away too, especially after murdering two of Maroni's henchmen. He wasn't certain yet what it was that got her so much in trouble, he was curious to find out, but wasn't certain if it was necessary at all to know.

"No one knows I'm alive," he tells her, "but putting my face out there walking around Gotham in the daylight will sure get me shot, and all of this was for naught." He wasn't sure why he cared to share that fact with her, perhaps he wanted to get her reaction—see if she would ask questions. But she didn't ask questions, instead she was focus on the very fact that they needed to leave, and he needed to be far away from the elderly woman that she was close to.

"I'll go out of here by today, if that's the case," he tells her, "I'll head out in the nighttime."

"I can't afford for you to remain here any later," she explained, "These women mean the world to me, Oswald, and as crazy as this may sound, I need to make sure you're far away from here. I don't know who you are or who my be after you, and I can't risk their lives."

He smirked at her, almost laughing at her stated words. "I find it touching—your concern for these women—but my leaving with you is unnecessary." She was quiet. "As I mentioned, to my antagonist, I'm 'dead' and no one's searching for me. I can leave here, without your aid, and believe me, it's not my prerogative to stay in Gotham, especially after being deemed dead by everyone who were after me. My one goal is to escape here unnoticed so I can go on with my life."

"Have you seen the state you're in?" She asked him pointing at his bandages and at his leg. "How do you even plan to leave here even at night? You'll walk? Hitch a ride? I can't let you do that. And how far do you even think you'll get?"

"Why are you going to help me escape Gotham?"

"Because I think I owe you that," she smiled, he observed her face, her small nose,long eyelashes, full lips, and the bruises that mar her face from her altercation from before. She was beautiful and yet still a mystery to him. He wanted to know if her kindness was due to another prerogative, but he could not find any signs that said otherwise.

She got up slowly until she was standing in front of him. "And, besides that, I can't have you stay here with Sr. Lucy, Oswald," she looked at him seriously, "I...I just can't put her in anymore danger, and I need to know you're far away too."

And so there was the truth, Oswald thought. Rubi had saved him—in retaliation for his valiant efforts and couldn't pathom leaving him rotting in the tunnels, and more so he already encountered the woman whom he was certain was like a mother to her. This woman, Sr. Lucy, as she was called didn't seem to mind their predicament at all, and was so helpful in his recovery. To Rubi, the sooner they got out of there the least likely Fish Mooney or Detective Gordon, or the Kingsley and his men would come after the nun—the one person who sheltered them in. The longer they stayed the longer they put another person at risk, and the reality was, a part of Oswald was not denying the idea of leaving Gotham with the this woman whom he only new for such a short time, but who was adamant in 'saving' him in return.

"So your plan is to take me with you instead?" He asked.

"My plan is to help you," she tells him, "we both have similar objectives—to leave Gotham—and we're given the best choice to do so with the aid of Sr. Lucy."She turned to him with a smile, "No one goes into the Underworld unless they're trying to escape Gotham, and by the looks of it, you have no choice. And it seems we both have the same prerogative."

"I see. So aside from the fact you want me out of here for their protection, this is also your way of thanking me?"

"Whatever your reasoning, you saved my life, and … I can't allow all of this to be for nothing either. We'll leave Gotham, and we'll part ways there."

"Pray tell how are we going to accomplish this?"

"Don't think I haven't thought of that," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, which fell on her shoulders. They were long and wavy, with streaks of sun kissed light brown. Oswald imagined what she would look like if she had not been so toughened and roughened by the streets of Gotham, and he even wondered what she had done before that very night. Was she a woman of the streets—or was she someone that had fallen from grace, having been the the right place at the wrong time? He tried to prevent himself from further questions about the woman who went by 'Rubi'.

With a sigh, she continued on, "We'll leave Gotham using the missionary van the sisters take around Gotham and out to the small towns outside the Gotham perimeters. We'll be hidden in the back of the van, unseen, until we reach Ginsberg."

"One of the nuns will drive us out?" This caught his attention.

"Every Thursday around 6:30 AM, two Sisters of Drexel drive this car out of Gotham to bring food and clothing to the small outer towns. They've done this for many years, and the police and gangs know their routes, but they never bother them." She explained this, her eyes meeting his, looking at his scar and bruises on his neck and then his muscled chest and the scars and cuts their too. There were a few knife scars, ones that looked old. "They make their way to certain parts of the city, handing out food and clothing, and then end at Gainsburg at a parish their."

Oswald coughed lightly, with the intent to get her attention. He noticed her ministrations and curiosity with his body; this bothered and at the same time interested him. He watched as she caught herself and quickly looked up at his eyes, shuffling on her seats.

Had she been staring all along? She thought, and knew the answer as she saw a smirk on Oswald's lips. She ignored it and continue on, "You see, the odd thing with Gotham is people respect the church—-ironic, but that's the truth worth using to our advantage."

He watched as she got up and stood near the window. Her petite body was not skinny, but curvy, and she stood wearing dark jeans, black combat boots, and a grey tank top and a dark navy zip-up hoodie. The clothes looked lose on her body, and he was certain they were probably clothes that had been donated and kept by the church. He was certain and hoped that there were clothes for him to change into that were different from the ones that he had worn—he did not doubt this for one bit. He did not want to have anything to do with the clothes he wore in the tunnels.

"During the missionary rounds, we'll remain in the back of the truck, hidden, until they've reached the outer town of Gainsburg."

"Gainsburg is pretty much still Gotham, just off the bridge," he said.

"It's the safest we can get out of Gotham," she tells him, "from there on, it's just a matter of hitching a ride out. "

"Of course," he said in thought, Oswald wasn't too worried about this. He didn't have people searching for him, and he was certain that at that point word would have already gotten out that he as dead. Rubi on the other hand was a different story. He reminded himself that the thought of her well being was irrelevant, especially since they were probably to part ways once they arrived in Gainsberg.

"Aren't you concerned?" He asked her and watched as she turned to him, with a look of question.

"Concerned about what?"

"Whoever it is you got after you are probably already looking for you. They may already be at Gainsburg."

She folded her arms and looked out in thought, "They'll be expecting me to travel at night, I'm certain of it. They'll increase watch during the nighttime, but this early on and in the van, I have no doubt they would not check at all. And as for Gainsburg, I have my ways; I'll find away to get the hell as far as I can, believe me."

"It must have been something serious, what you've done." He said, trying to see if she would share anything about herself. A part of him was curious about her predicament, especially since he could not picture or even come close to guessing what she must have done to have Maroni's men wanting to hurt her so badly.

She turned to him, "It can't be as serious as what you've done to get yourself walking to the Underworld trying to disappear."

So she wanted to play that way, he thought. He simply smirked at her, as he slowly got himself off the bed—careful not to mess up stitches or bandages. She ignored his movements but watched through peripheral vision as he shakily got up and headed for the drawer of the bed stand. She knew he was planning to get dressed.

She didn't owe this man any explanation, she didn't owe him any reasoning or story for what she'd done. She turned to him and watched as he had already gotten on the dark pair of black sweatpants, they surprisingly fit him quite well, and was working on putting on the faded olive green shirt from a close-down amusement park. It was clear that it was hard for him to pull on the shirt, as he stared at it, unfolded in his hands.

Without a word, she came to him and was surprised that he did not flee from her help. With gentle hands and caution she pulled the shirt over his head—watching as his long spiky hair fell towards his face in the notion. They felt surprising soft as they brushed her hand.

"We have to be careful not to ruin those stitches," she said, "I couldn't find any button downs in the donation box unfortunately; it'd be easier."

"No worries," he tells her, grateful as she slowly lifted his arm and one by one help put his arms through the armholes of the shirt. Oswald tried his best to ignore the awareness that coursed through him as Rubi pulled the shirt slowly down his body, her long small hands brushing his naked skin in the process. Even more so as he felt her presence so close as she helped him into the black thick hooded jacket. She was behind him and at one point felt her breath near the back of his neck.

This was such an odd thing for him to experience, having not felt any type of consolation or touch in such a long time—outside of the ministrations of Fish Mooney and his mother. Fish Mooney's touches were one way—it was selfish, mere caresses that she knew would instigate him to please her, and they were fleeting. His mother's were caring and protective—a close hug and a pat to his head as she looked with cherisment as her only son-a thought he didn't want to remember especially as he was certain his mother was in tears and depression over his death at that very moment.

When he was fully dressed, Rubi stepped back.

He watch as a light smile appeared on her lips, and she nodded her head, and made a move to turn around to leave the room.

"I'll leave you be for now," she met his gaze, "I need to talk to one of the Sisters to finalize tomorrow." She headed out the door.

"Thank you..." he said... but she was already gone.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please review to let me know what you think of this chapter. Thanks!