«So when is it you go?» Harvey asked Leslie, after following her into the exam room.
She was supposed to be on medical leave, between her injuries and the «psychological trauma» she was expected to be suffering from. She had declared herself bored, and dropped by the precinct to say hello to everyone. And everyone had been glad to see her. She'd been swarmed by coworkers from the moment she had walked into the bullpen, to the point that Jim nearly had to stand in queue to get to kiss her. That had been fun to watch.
She opened a cabinet, checking that her supplies were properly ordered. She obviously didn't agree with her replacement's sorting preferences, because she frowned and pulled a jar out, then forced herself to put it back.
«In three days», she replied. «In the morning.»
He hadn't pegged her as the kind who'd run. Then again, she had a lot on her plate, and it was only for four days. «Forensic science conference», she had said. In New York. And she had made a point to be overly enthusiastic about it, the kind of enthusiastic about crime you expected from Edward Nygma. She was coming back. Still, Harvey wasn't blind to the growing awkwardness between her and Jim, and to the amount of make up she had plastered on her face to cover the circles under her eyes.
«Well I hope it will be fun. You know, about as much as learning how to bed dissect a body can get.»
«It's not about autopsies! It's a toxicology thing.»
«To be used during autopsies.»
«Alright, it's about autopsies.»
He chucked, then there was a lull in the conversation. She grew serious.
«Can I ask for something?»
«Yeah?»
«Can you be there for Jim while I'm gone?»
Harvey rolled his eyes. Because the rest of the time I'm not?
«Lee.»
«I know, I know, I don't mean you're not there for him all the time. It's just… I'm worried, Harvey. He's in a dark, dark place… And I can't reach him at all. I'm trying. I can't.»
The detective sighed.
«Yeah, that's not my problem so why don't you tell him that?»
She stared him down.
«Alright, I'm listening», he amended.
She could be the hell of a scary lady.
«Things are not good right now, at all. There's the vigilante, and there's everything on the job… And Barbara. There's Barbara.»
«Thompkins. You know I don't want the run down of your problems, I don't give a shit, don't cry on my shoulder. Just tell me what you want me to do.»
«He's angry. He has given me the details of everything that has happened, but it was just that, a report. He won't share what it does to him, but I can see he's angry. A kind of angry that has me scared.»
«Oh Jesus. You had to go and listen to the crazy bitch. He's not going to snap and hurt y-»
«Of course he isn't.»
«Then what the hell are you ranting about?»
Leslie hesitated. She started saying something, stopped herself, took a deep breath.
«Am I silly for being afraid of Barbara? She was so, so good at poisoning the well from her cell in Arkham. I'm terrified of what she'll do now. Because you were there that night, when she woke up. You saw what she's like. And it terrifies me - terrifies, I don't have a better word - to know she'll be going after Jim in the state he's in now. She will destroy him. She knows him.»
Harvey clenched his teeth and said nothing because there was nothing to say. She was right.
«And I can't reach him», Leslie continued. «Because he's afraid for me and because he feels guilty, so he won't let me in. I hate it, but I can't do a thing. I was hoping you could.»
«I'm trying. What kind of fucking miracles do you think I can work?»
«With Jim? Pretty much all of them.»
He froze.
«No pressure at all», he replied after a long silence.
«You know what I mean. You're his lifeline. Have been from the moment you met him. If someone can help him now, it's you.»
Harvey sighed.
«I'll see what I can do. Getting him to shoot crap should be a nice start, I guess. Maybe picking a fight with bikers in some seedy bar.»
Lee stared at him, wide eyed.
«That last part is a joke, right? Forget it, I don't want to know.»
The cop chuckled.
«No you d-»
His phone rang. He picked up, since the conversation was all but done anyway.
He was told something. It sounded insane, and didn't register.
«I'm sorry», he said. «Can you repeat that?»
###
«Really, Crispus. This conversation could have been entirely civil», Butch said. «Did you have to draw your gun?»
The cop moaned from his spot on the floor, because kicks to the groin would do that to you.
Gilzean crouched.
«I mean, I just wanted to talk. We've talked before. We're, like, practically best pals. So you need to chill out.»
«Fuck you», Allen gasped between pants. «Don't break into people's homes if you don't want a gun in your face. And tell Cobblepot he can go fuck himself.»
Butch blinked.
«Oh right. I guess you don't know. I don't work for Oswald anymore. So when I say my boss wants to talk to you, I mean 'Barbara Kean' wants to talk to you. Sorry for the confusion. Think you can stand?» he asked, helping the cop up.
Allen was still in pain but didn't whine at all. He stood and wiped his forehead. He was barely even hunched.
«Kean? Wait… Barbara Kean?»
«Yeah. You know, pretty socialite, Arkham escapee, newbie crime lady.»
«What the hell does she want with me?»
«You, nothing. But we can't find Montoya. Miss Kean has some intel she'd like to share, see, but she'll only share with friends. Except Montoya is nowhere to be found and we're growing concerned.»
«Well, you can keep looking. If you find her, give me a call. We've been searching very hard ourselves.»
«Meaning?»
«Meaning - and the guys on your payroll on the force would have told you that in one phone call -she's missing. Has been for days. She was undercover, we lost contact.»
«Aw fuck. I'm supposed to bring her back alive and in good health. That's not gonna fly. Who was she spying on?»
«Do me a favor and find yourself another mole.»
Butch sighed. People always had to make things difficult. He would have been happy to keep things friendly, too. He didn't want blood on his suit. He'd just gotten it dry cleaned.
He kneed Crispus in the stomach.
«Allow me to repeat the question.»
###
It was difficult, overly difficult, to find competent henchmen. You couldn't get it all: the fighting skills, the obedience, and the brains. Brains were a particularly rare commodity, which explained why he walked into his living room and found Barbara Kean having tea with Miriam and his mother.
«The trick is to use conditioner», Kean was saying, playing with Miriam's hair. «And it will take some time to get your hair nice and shiny, but you will look just lovely once it is repaired. I will tell Oswald which brand to buy for you. It's very specific. Don't let him get anything less.»
Heads nearly rolled. Frightening his mother was out of the question, however. Oswald forced a smile on.
«Miss Kean. I didn't expect you today.»
The lunatic gave him a brilliant commercial smile.
«I had some business to discuss - art related - and I was in such a hurry that I forgot to give you a call. I'm so sorry. I can wait some more, or come back tomorrow, if you'd prefer.»
Both Miriam and his mother appeared charmed and in perfect health, which was surprising considering Kean's last visit, not to mention her little show at the Cohen's.
«I'm sure we can discuss those matters today, right now, in my office. I wouldn't want to make you wait.»
«Oh! Thank you so much. Just a second», she said, getting a notepad - not a knife - from her purse, and scribbling some words on a sheet she neatly tore off and gave to Miriam. «This brand. No other. And make sure to follow the instructions on the bottle precisely.»
The girl nodded eagerly, holding the note like a precious treasure. Kean gave one last caress to her hair and moved away.
«It was a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Kapelput. It had been entirely too long.»
Oswald watched in bewilderment as Gertrude hugged the sociopath as her oldest friend.
«I'm so glad my boy is doing business with such a nice girl as you. I hope he can help you with the gallery.»
«I hope so too. Have a nice day. Good bye, Miriam.»
She joined Oswald, who stared at her, baffled. He showed her the door.
«To my office», he snapped.
He was still confused when they entered the room. He locked the door. He put on some music. Then he started shouting.
«YOU ARE NOT TO EVEN BE IN THE SAME BLOCK AS MY MOTHER, LET ALONE THE SAME ROOM. ARE WE CLEAR?»
«Oh, come on, I hadn't seen Gertrude in decades. She's such a sweet, eccentric lady.»
He crossed the room and pushed her against a wall.
«NEVER. GO. NEAR. HER. AGAIN!» he spat.
Kean rolled her eyes and slipped away.
«If you insist.»
She twirled and… Frolicked, maybe? To the desk. She sat on its edge.
«What is this feeling so sudden and new I felt the moment I laid eyes on you?»*
«I'm sorry? What are you babbling about now?»
She stood and covered her cheeks with her hands.
«My pulse is rushing… My head is reeling…»
He was going to kill her. That was the kind of sick humor he was not fond off. He had heard enough of it, especially from pretty girls.
«My face is flushing», she continued, acting confused. «What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame… Does it have a name?»
He quietly retrieved his gun. She whirled to him and snapped her fingers.
«Yes! Yes! Loathing. Unadulterated loathing.»
«Miss Kean, I do believe you wish to die. Do you w-»
«For your face», she said, pointing. «You voice. Your…» - Her eyes inspected his suit and stopped on his necktie. - «Clothing? Let's just say… I loathe it all!»
He pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead.
«I can safely say the feeling is mutual. Now, sit, and pray whatever sick divinity allowed you to exist to convince me not to check if you have as little brains as I believe you do.»
«Aw, you are no fun at all», she moaned, taking a seat. «Back to business, then?»
Oswald circled the desk and sunk into his office chair.
«You have exactly one minute to convince me and save your sorry hide.»
«Alright. Can you launder money? I recently acquired a Picasso, I have a buyer, but I could use a few dozen fake businesses to receive his money and turn it into untraceable cash. Now, I already have a partner who gets a sixty percent share. It's a Picasso. You get what you can take. Still! I get twenty percent, you get twenty percent, and twenty percent is still that many zeros», she explained, lifting several fingers.
He stared at her.
After a few moments, she waved a hand under his nose to snap him out of it.
###
«So», Gertrude asked, when Oswald joined her after his conversation with the blonde maniac. «Will you be working with the lovely Miss Kean?»
«Yes. It appears I will. She had a most lucrative deal to offer. Still, she's unlikely to visit again.»
«That's a shame. She's so very pretty.»
«She's a common harlot, mother.»
«Don't you say such things! She is so nice, I won't have my boy insulting a nice lady!»
Had the world been turned upside down? Oswald cringed, composed himself, and nodded.
«I'm sorry, mother. I believe I might have gotten the wrong impression. But I'm curious. Have you met her before? You seemed very familiar.»
«Oh, I hadn't seen her since she was a little girl. Your father knew the Kean family. They did business.»
Gertrude looked aside for a moment. His father was never discussed. Oswald redirected.
«A little girl, you say?»
«Yes. We went to her birthday party. You wouldn't remember. You were small. A baby, nearly. But I remember it well. It was a grand affair. Very beautiful, everything. Actresses playing fairies.»
It sounded exactly like the kind of insufferably overblown party the bitch would have gotten.
«It must have been very fun», he said, neutrally.
«Oh, it was, for all of the children. But… It was so sad. I didn't talk very good English back then, so the other parents had to explain to me, and I thought I had translated it wrong.»
«Sad? At a… Six years old's birthday party?»
«Well. It was a scandal, because… Little Barbara wasn't there, you see. She stained her dress, when it started - the party, I mean», Gertrude explained, shaking her head. «So her mother got angry and sent her to her room.»
«I'm sorry?»
«She sent her to her room. Because she had dirtied her pretty dress. That poor little girl was not allowed to come back.»
Oswald blinked. That explained a few things.
«Well, people have been killed for less, I suppose», he mused.
His mother's eyes went wide.
«What do you mean?» she exclaimed in a panic.
«Nothing, mother. It's a figure of speech. I mean that it was very, very cruel way to treat such a young child.»
###