Work Text:
Oswald was seething.
Rage was what was brewing visibly, his face in a constant frown ever since the meeting with his 'loyal' dogs, but combined with the irritation that was this Ivy beside him.
At least she'd been left behind this time. She was a sweetheart, that much was true, but this world had no time for such things. It was die or get killed - or die and... Live or get killed. It was...
It doesn't matter! Oswald shook his head vigorously and his frown deepened.
"Firebug, come! We're wasting time!"
He saw the look of boredom that came over her face as she turned towards him. "You said Gordon's not off until at least 30 min or so, so why bother?"
Os shook his body, and pushed his cane against the ground. "I said I think he's off in 30 min, so we better be there earlier!"
The Firefly shook her head and rolled her eyes, and Os tried to not let it get to him. They where supposed to be a family now. Ivy's idea. Sure, it made sense, and it had done wonders as they had managed to recruit both the Ice-guy and this firebug, but Os just knew this was going to be a pain to try and be friendly towards them.
But then again, siblings and cousins rarely came along flawlessly. As long as he was amiable, he was sure this would at least not fall apart before he got to Nygg...
He shook his head violently, and felt a headache come on. He could barely think the name without the feelings becoming physical, could he? The loathing leaving a taste over his tongue he just couldn't get out, the anger and betrayal filling his chest with darkness and the... the broken heart feeling like shards of ice inside him.
He tried to not think of the other feelings.
~*~
Oswald had stood on the stairs for at least more then 10 minutes before Gordon managed to show his face in the alley. The light bug had tried to seem threatening several times already, every time a single rat skittered across the garbage on the ground, as well as giving Os a piercing stare with those fire-like eyes of hers ever few seconds. He'd told her to stay put, keep her flamethrower up, and just wait.
But that kid wasn't very good at waiting, was she? Os wondered if it was something to do with her... condition or if she'd just always been this way.
He thought of trying to ask Ivy about it when he got back, but realised he just didn't care.
Then the door-handle rattled and the torch fly perked up, as did Oswald, when he saw the mop of brown hair that he'd learned to recognise long ago.
Gordon took a moment to close the door, before he noticed the sight before him; Oswald, The Penguin himself, standing by the only pair of stairs out of the alleyway. As he turned around to view the other door, leading to some excess room used for miscellaneous storage and a make-do passageway, he saw the flamethrower in the hands of that crazy bug, and while Os felt a bit exasperated at the unnecessary show of flames against the wall, he didn't miss the effect it had on Gordon.
Jim turned his eyes back to Oswald, and Os took the moment. He didn't get this as much anymore; this feeling of being above, being in control, and he wanted to savour it just a bit longer.
Walking down the stairs without stumbling put some pain in his weakened leg, but it was worth it for the respect he felt from Gordon. Jim always had a way of making Os feel just a bit better about his position. But that wasn't the only reason for a meeting like this.
"Jim Gordon, in the flesh."
"Penguin. I should have known you wouldn't really be dead."
"Oh I seem to be quite hard to kill. Who'd have thought?" A laughter, shallow, mostly to hide the pain of the betrayal that had still to leave it's place in Oswalds chest.
"What do you what?"
Os was now standing not far from him; his stature wasn't close to that of Jim, especially not since he was still not healed from the barely mortal gut-shot added to his permanently crippled leg, but looking up at him he still felt that he was in the power-position.
Then he lost Jim's focus as the Ladybug behind him decided to fire up that flamethrower again. He tried to not grind his teeth, as Jim looked behind him again, the moment lost because of the clueless hothead he'd brought.
Oswald cleared his throat as the flames died off, and Jim turned back towards him, and Os felt himself preen a little under the eyes of the detective.
"Nygma. You where the last one who was with him. I need to find him."
"He escaped custody."
"Oh, really? From the great Jim Gordon himself? I think not, my dear friend. I think that when that green fool was on television, talking about some secret organisation, he wasn't just rambling like he usually would. I think he stumbled upon something true, and that you, my dearest friend, might know just what that would be."
Jim smiled, made a motion as if to cross his arms but didn't follow through, and Oswald watched him through it. He leaned heavily on his cane, trying to make his posture as true to his rage and determination as possible, and not show any other emotion. He knew he was failing, but he tried to act like he didn't.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh Jim, don't play coy with me. You know very well what I'm talking about, but I don't care about any of it, really, I just want Nygma, and you're the only one who knows where he is."
Jim looked around, still with a kind of smile on his face, and this time, Oswald actually looked at his face. Somehow, he seemed to have missed it, but there was something about this smile that just wasn't right. Even as Jim started talking, he didn't look Oswald straight in the eyes, but the smile stayed on his lips.
"I don't know where he is. That's the truth."
"But you have a clue. You need to share that with me, my dearest friend, because I need to find him!"
"I can't share what I don't know, Oswald."
"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't know, and I might believe you!"
And their eyes met. Jim was looking slightly down, and while that smile had been stuck to his face, it began to melt off.
"I don't..." Jim cleared his throat discreetly, while Os watched every move. "I don't know where Nygma is."
"Really? But you would know where this secret group he was on about might have taken him, wouldn't you?"
Oswald leaned on his cane, mostly for support, but it had the added benefit of leaning in closer to Jim, a commonly used interrogation tactic. Judging by how disheveled Jim began to look, it was actually working.
"Oswald." Jim looked like he was trying to say something else, or add on to the sentence, but nothing came. Os didn't budge, and kept both his position and his intent staring, as he watched pieces of Jim's resolve fall away.
"Jim. Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll be out of your way. All I need is Nygma, and you're the only one who can lead me to him."
Oswald saw Jim's lips part slightly, his own eyes flickering from the eye-contact they had, aware of how it would be interpreted. Seeing how Jim's eyes seemed to change as he did, Oswald knew he'd noticed. Damn it.
"I... Oswald, I can't..."
"Damn it Jim, I need to find him! I need to know where he is!"
The sudden rage that surged through Oswald made him take a step closer, trying to be imposing enough to make Jim tell him out of fear, but the detective didn't budge.
At least, he didn't take a step back. But the rage fell away as sudden as it had appeared, and Oswald was left standing uncomfortably close to the taller man, without either of them leaning back.
The height difference between them wasn't that much, to be honest. Without his limp, Oswald was sure he'd be at least as tall as the detective, but as it was, he was just short of an inch shorter then him. Which wasn't actually much, and at this proximity, it was more then obvious that it wasn't at all enough for this closeness to be balancing on a very fragile line.
This time it was Oswald's turn to swallow down his actions and words, as he caught Jim's eyes flickering back and forth between his own lips and maintaining eye-contact. It was more then distracting.
"I... There's this group. I can't tell you, I... I can't..."
A silence fell between them. Their eyes barely making contact with each other's gaze. Oswald didn't even dare to think.
The sudden sound of fire brought them both back to reality, Jim stumbling forward, grabbing onto Oswalds shoulders, as he turned his head to watch the Firefly behind him light her flamethrower up just for the attention.
"Just tell us already, we have places to be!"
Oswald had almost forgotten the muscle he'd brought, and at the moment he cursed both himself and the bug for this blatant disrespect. They way Jim cling to him told that even he had managed to forget, at least temporary, that they had company.
Os was about to mutter the Firebug's name and a choice few well-chosen words, but his voice got caught in his throat as Jim grabbed an even finer hold on his arms. He felt tiny under Jim's body; he was leaning slightly against him, away from the flamethrower, and seemed to unconsciously wrap himself around the Penguins smaller frame to shield him. That thought got stuck with Oswald, and made him forget what else was going on around them.
"Pig, tell us where to find him! Or I'll barbecue you!"
"Firefly...!" Oswald looked around Jim's body and tried to meet her eyes. "I'm the one making the threats, okey? Keep to your little flamethrower and we'll be just fine, alright?" He wanted to say so much more, but settled for trying to burn the bug with his eyes alone, not at all sure if she got it.
Jim seemed to be more then a little dis-shelved, as he cautiously straightened up, looked down at Penguin and slowly loosened his grip on his arms.
"Not to worry Jim, my friend, I wouldn't let such harm come to you, and we're not in such hurry yet, that is. Not until we find his whereabouts, but until you tell us what happened, such a things won't happen. Right, my fearsome Firefly?" Oswald smiled at Jim, but turned his eyes to the bug and tried to shoot arrows at her with eyes alone, and this time she seemed to at least accept it.
But she didn't move. Os even tried to jut his chin towards the exit, but she either didn't get it or didn't want to leave, which made his frustration flow even freer.
Jim at this time had let go of Oswald, and taken a step back. He seemed to make a show of brushing himself off, not looking at either of the criminal present, and Oswald had the possibility to get a few steps closer to the offending bug in question.
"Go wait by the car unless I call for you."
She gave him a telling side-eye, and he felt himself prickle at the lack of respect, but then she walked past him, carefully carrying her flamethrower in both hands, not once looking back.
Oswald watched her go, and then turned his eyes towards Jim Gordon. He seemed to be just watching, hand on his chin, like he'd been in thought before Oswald turned towards him again.
"Jim, my dear old friend, sorry for that... Coming back to Gotham, being almost killed, again, and I have to get new troops... They're still not fully understanding the whole... well, situation, as you could call it."
Jim looked at Oswald, still stroking his chin a bit absentmindedly. Os wasn't sure show to interpret it, because even as Jim seemed confused or thoughtful, his eyes still had some kind of focus in them.
After a moment of silence, Jim where the one to break it.
"You really want to find Nygma, that bad?"
Os straightened, as much he could, and took another step closer to Jim. "I need to find him! He tried to kill me!"
Jim looked off in the distance, seemingly mulling something over. By the small shift of a smile that might have come over his lips, it might be the fact that Nygma was still hated by the GCPD. Oswald might has misinterpreted in though, and just seen what he wanted to. But he did know; as Mayor, he'd loved the thought of sending Edward back to the police station as his own right hand. It had been a wonderful kind of irony, hearing Nygma tell the story of their looks...
Without a warning, Jim shifted his eyes and his whole posture changed, looking at Oswald directly and letting his arms fall to his sides.
"I don't know where Nygma is. The last I saw of him was out by the bridge, changing cars into a nondescript black car. I didn't see where they were heading after that." His voice was deep and low, almost reverberating inside Oswald's chest, and his eyes held his gaze steady. Almost unblinking.
Oswald took a breathless breath.
"On the north side of town?"
A single blink before Jim answered. "Yes, under the oak trees on the edge of town."
Silence fell again. Oswald tried to swallow, but couldn't really get the feeling out, whatever it was. He felt too close, like his tie were too tight, like something was wrong with his suit. It was a distressing feeling, partly because he tried to ignore it. Tried to suppress it.
Jim leaned in closer. Oswald realised that he had nothing to lean against; Jim was the one standing against the wall, and suddenly Os felt like he was in free fall, without anything to anchor him to this reality, and he took a step backwards. Then another one, and even as he took even another one, he realised that Jim wasn't getting further away. That Jim was walking with him, following his walk backwards, and as Oswalds back hit the wall on the other side of the small alleyway, Jim took even another step closer.
"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, but I do not know any more."
Oswald swallowed. "That is fine, my friend. At least I got a place to start from now, and it would be easier that way, truly?"
"Yes." Jim didn't say anything more, but didn't walk away.
For a moment, that was all. Oswald didn't know what to say, or do, in a moment as this. Because whatever Jim was playing at, he knew what he himself dreamed of, and whatever this might be, it would not be that.
It couldn't be.
But Jim was leaning in closer.
He exhaled; Oswald could feel it over his face. He could feel little pricks of moisture from the exhale over his skin, and he could almost tell himself he felt the slide of Jim's pant leg over the fabric of his own.
His face was close enough that he could almost feel the prickle of Jim's stubble over his own face.
For a moment, that was all.
Oswald could barely breathe.
He could almost feel his eyes flutter as Jim inhaled, the soft cold over his skin as the chilly Gotham air once again touched his cheeks, before Jim once again broke the silence.
"Good."
Then he was gone.
The warmth of his body, that Oswald had barely registered before, was suddenly gone, and the chill of the afternoon flew back in to cover his body, and he shivered. His free hand flew to his cane, once again using both hands to hold himself up, and down the alleyway to where Jim was walking away from him.
He felt a urge to call out, tell him to stop, just get his attention, but he didn't. He watched as Jim ascended the stairs, almost weightless, and at the top of them, he turned back just slightly.
"Good luck."
Then he was gone, out of sight.
Finally, Oswald felt like he could breathe; his breath was shaking, and he closed his eyes. He leaned down heavy on his cane, and tried to center himself again.
Once his body felt like it could hold him up, he began to walk the same way Jim had disappeared, until he got down to the car where the Firefly was waiting impatiently. She looked up as he began descending the stairs, arms grossed and flamethrower against the side of the car.
"So, what happened? Did you get anything? Should I follow that detective or something?"
Oswald just shook his head. "No, there's no need... He won't give anything else up."
"Well? Did you get something?"
"We got a place to start. Get in the car, we need to get back to Ivy at once."
She rolled her eyes, and Oswald saw it, but he didn't even mind it. He might do something about it another time, but not right now.
He was still smiling. Jim really knew how to make a scene even without the audience.
~*~
"I'm telling you Ivy, something went down... like, one moment, we were pressing this cop and then he just told me to leave. I mean something went on between them, I'm sure of it."
"Oh get off it Bridgit. I'm sure they where just talking."
"You didn't see him when he walked down, and the way the detective just ran out... you'd have thought he was running from something."
Ivy just shook her head and continued watering her plants, but Bridgit couldn't let it go. She was sure she'd seen at least something.
No chance that Penguin would ever say anything about it, though. So Bridgit mentally shrugged, and shifted her attention somewhere else.