Thank you so much for reviews FuschiaGrasshopper and FrostyAutumn!
It's super lame but I have a writing playlist for this story so if you want to listen the 8tracks link is posted on my profile. It's free to stream. (I mean I'm super lame. The playlist is pretty good.)
Grady had not been the same since she killed George Rice. Not because she felt guilty, she felt no remorse whatsoever. In her mind, she had repaid blood for blood and done no more than what the natural order of things commanded of her.
"I think it's one of those existential crisis things," she told Oswald. "It's what I saw at the end of my road for a long time and now it's gone and I don't know where I'm going. It's like this time when I was nine, I was on the other end of the Burrow trying to get home during a snowstorm and could only see 2 feet in front of me. You know how everything's so narrow over here, the snow was banking up against all the buildings. I didn't know which street was where and then after a bit I got confused what direction I was facing."
"What did you do?" Oswald asked.
"Oh, I found a pub and asked for directions. Some ancient German woman in the flat next door let me wait out the storm in her kitchen, gave me tea and all," Grady said. "The end of that story wasn't as interesting as the beginning. Lucky I went in the right pub. If it was someone who wasn't keen on my Da I would have been better off in the storm."
"Something tells me a pub isn't going to help you this time," Oswald said thoughtfully. Grady's slump was worrying. He needed her help now and he banked on her being grateful enough to give it.
"Sad but true," Grady said. "But I would be game for going to pub right now."
"I need to ask you something important," Oswald began. There was no time to hook Grady further. He had to make it work now and all he could do was hope he knew her well enough to steer her in the right direction.
"And you don't want to talk about it down to pub," Grady finished for him.
"I would rather not," Oswald said slowly.
Grady sighed and settled back in her seat. He almost reconsidered, if he could get her drinking at the pub she might be more agreeable or she could be much more stubborn. It was impossible to tell. Only once had he seen Grady somewhat drunk. It was a few days after the George Rice incident. She had put her foot in an icy puddle which made her furious and tried to teach Oswald how to curse in Gaelic which she insisted he try to pronounce and then got frustrated when he refused or said them wrong. No, he did not want to deal with that again.
"I may have located Falcone's 'mole' but each time Maroni makes a move against him, I am under scrutiny. I steer Maroni away from Falcone, again, I'm greeted with suspicion. This will not last much longer."
"No one ever said playing two sides was easy," Grady said. But she was thinking already, leaning her chin on her fist. "Surely Falcone realizes the situation you're in though, he's not stupid."
"Stupid, no. Not at all. But he's losing his grip. We knew this. He's paranoid. And not willing to take chances. Which puts me in a dangerous position." Oswald allowed himself to look afraid. He needed Grady worried. It was almost nice to think that she would be worried just for his sake. But if necessary, he would assure her that if he went down, she would go right alongside him.
Grady looked at a loss. "What do you want to do?"
"I need a scapegoat Grady," Oswald leaned forward. "It needs to be someone from outside the usual families. I need to take his eyes off of Maroni. A group with enough force to be believable, but a group that is unexpected."
She understood what he was asking for before he even finished. There was no one as quick as Grady. Her eyes went round.
"No," she said. "There's got to be another way. I can't give you Burrow Boys. I just can't. You think I've got no standards?"
"I wouldn't ask you this if there any other way. Believe that." It even came across as sincere because it was the truth.
"We'll just get rid of Maroni then. He's the problem," Grady sputtered and Fionn whined, sensing her distress.
"You know as well as I that even if we could manage it, it would be like setting a bomb off in the middle of Gotham. Completely unpredictable consequences. Consequences that could get me killed."
"So turn in Liza! Prove to Falcone that half of this is Fish anyway! What've we been sitting on the evidence for?"
Oswald remained patient, even though her temper flared like a child's. "Because Liza is the key to Falcone's undoing. She's going to burn him from the inside out," Oswald explained.
"Or so we hope! We don't know what she'll do but we can't get pretty Liza into trouble can we." Fionn barked as if he agreed.
"You're being ridiculous Grady," Oswald said. It was all he could do not to laugh at how she pouted.
"I'm not," she huffed. "What you're asking for is cruel, man. You want me to send Falcone after the Burrow Boys, just like he came after my Da and his boys. Asking me to betray my neighborhood like it's nothing."
"What have the Burrow Boys ever done for you Grady?" Oswald asked quietly. "I'm asking you to help me. To save me. Like I saved you from the river."
Her eyes steeled right up. "And you knew I couldn't say no to you, didn't you."
"That's not why I saved you from drowning. You don't believe I could think that far ahead?" Oswald laughed.
"I do believe you could," Grady said coldly. "I think that's why you brought me George Rice too."
She had him there. It stung. But not like it used to when he was bitter when she was a step ahead of him or saw through him. It stung because he wished he could deny it. "You can believe what you want Grady, I can't show you what's in my mind."
"Oh yes, you're good," she groaned and rubbed her eyes. "That's the whole stupid reason I wanted to work with you... I'll set up the Burrow Boys. It's going to be risky and I'm going to hate myself every damn second of it, but I'll do it. And well done, I suppose. For a second, I really thought you gave me Rice just because you wanted to. Now I have to help you because Rice going missing is probably part of the reason Falcone's breathing down the back of your neck."
"I took risks for you and now I need you to do the same for me because you're the only one who can. That's what friends do, am I mistaken?" He gave her an innocent shrug.
Grady rolled her eyes and said to Fionn: "Apparently I need some lessons from the friendship expert, over here. I've been doing it all wrong. Seems it involves a lot of tricks and schemes."
Fionn whined quietly.
It started with a some robberies of the kind Maroni pulled on Falcone or at least was suspected of pulling. Grady worked her magic to assure that the Burrow Boys were in the right place at the right time. The last robbery was risky and Grady insisted they needed to be nearby in case something went awry. And it had been a good call. A small group lagged behind, missed the getaway and they'd had to send Oswald's driver racing the ten blocks to pick them up. This left Oswald and Grady to hoof it through midtown Gotham.
Grady who normally loved robberies was as miserable as she'd promised. Sulking and nearly stomping through the falling snow.
"We're going to need to blame someone for passing the location to the Burrow soon," Oswald reminded her gently (and he felt, at great risk to his life.)
"Working on it," Grady grunted. "I've got a several things in play and it's like juggling at the moment."
"What else?" Oswald frowned.
"I'm preparing," she raised an eyebrow at him. "Can't you see how this could end?"
"I don't know what you mean," he said nervously.
"You might be pleasantly surprised. That's all I'll say for now."
They trudged on quietly through the crowds of Christmas shoppers. They were a sharp dark contrast to the cheery faces around them.
"If you want to go to your Ma's, I might catch a cab up here," Grady nodded to the busy shopping district swarming with twinkling lights and shoppers and cars although the hour was growing late. "Sooner rather than later I hope," Grady shivered. "Still never been warm after that damn river, I swear. Why is it some things just get in your bones and never come out?"
They joined a mob of people sifting in and out of taxis. Oswald looked for Grady, about to depart and get on a subway to his mother's house. But he found she wasn't even looking at the taxis but staring into the huge department store windows. A beautiful tree well over ten feet tall stood proudly amidst the busy shoppers who were rushing to complete last minute purchases or idling around the tree to watch the toy train circle round and round. Grady stood so close to the window that her breath fogged it.
"Look at all these stupid normal people," she whispered. Oswald had to step closer to hear her.
"It's always been like this," she continued. "I can see them but I'm not really part of them. There's a something in the way."
She dragged her finger through the steamed glass. "Do you know what I mean?"
"We're different," he agreed, not wanting to say anything else when she was in such a strange mood.
"I wonder what it's like," she looked in the window as though what were inside truly weren't real, just a dream or something on the TV. "They walk around thinking of gifts and flights and relatives, that's what they worry about. Or maybe they don't even worry at all. Can you imagine? They don't know what we know. They don't really know what's out there. And we could have been them. We could have been. If only our brains worked right and someone bothered to explain to us what Christmas even is instead of kicking us into a snow bank. Just think about that. We were almost one of these people."
As Grady spoke the world felt strangely unreal for a few moments as she gave voice to things Oswald had been aware of for some time but never really thought about. When she turned to him her eyes sparkled strangely like maybe she might cry. He wished for it to be over, he didn't know what he would do if Grady cried.
"It's not like we asked to be ourselves," she said. She sneered and looked back in the window. "Every person in there would hate us if they knew who we really were, but it's not like we asked. We were made. And they don't know that. They don't know what's watching them through this window. When they think about dying they worry about stupid ordinary things like diseases and car crashes and age. Can you imagine having the luxury of dying just because you've seen it all and your heart's worn out? That's not how I'll die. I've known for years how I'll die. I can try and try but this thing we do will go out of control. One day I'll slip up and I'll die choking on my own blood. Just like my father."
Grady smiled but her eyes were wet now. Just a little. Oswald did not feel well, it was like a fist was squeezing on his heart. "It won't happen Grady," he said. "The day we met, you said we'd rise so high no one could touch us. You're not your father. You're too smart for that."
"No one ever wins this game we're playing," she said. "You and I know that, we just tell ourselves otherwise because we've got no choice but to play. We're a train wreck waiting to happen, the more speed we pick up the uglier it'll be in the end."
"I've cheated death at least three times," Oswald said. "I plan to continue that pattern until I'm old enough to need a cane for reasons other than my crooked leg."
This got the smallest smirk from her. "I can almost believe it for you. Me, I knew when I watched my Da die that I'd go the same way. That's how it always ends for us Burrow brats," she said. "I've grown used to the idea."
He couldn't take Grady without the spark and the visions of grandeur. Couldn't stand another minute of her staring forlornly at the gaudy Christmas tree. He spun her to look at him, holding her face with both hands.
"Look at me," he said a little too roughly. "You're going to die older than you can imagine being. Older than some of your antiques. You'll be all grey hair and wrinkles and missing teeth and you'll be crazier than you are now. I'll be sure of it."
He had planned all along to break Grady and now that she was crumbling, he felt an absurd responsibility to catch her quickly before the damage was done. Without her, he felt he would be missing an important fixed point. He told himself it was because she was far from outliving her usefulness yet. He had to. The only alternative was to wonder who was really playing who. Already he was smoothing down her stubborn, wild hair because his hands sometimes had a disturbing tendency to move of their own accord when it came to dealing with Grady.
At least the gap in her teeth was showing again. She was hardly herself without it.
"Nah, don't let me become an old lady." She stepped closer, much too close. "You're right. I'll be completely mad and I'll have too many cats," she mumbled into his shoulder.
For a few moments the glass window didn't exist, there was no barrier. For a short few moments they were not so different from everyone else on the busy street.
