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“Oswald?” Gabe mumbled into the receiver of the phone as he rose from his chair.
“G-Gabe! Come here.” The man on the other end croaked, words punctuated by a hiccup.
“Boss, when did you get outta Arkham? I been laying low, like you wanted me to… I kept an ear out for you but… Where are you?” He asked, already pulling on a pair of shoes and blindly smacking at the wall beside the door for the hook that held his keys.
“At home, you silly man… where else would I be?” The response Gabriel received raised more questions then it answered, but also gave him a clue as to his former boss’ state of being.
That state of being would be confirmed with the next set of soft hiccups. Oswald was somewhere, and Oswald was trashed. The somewhere in question would have to be gently sussed out of the former crime lord. Gabriel had been around drunken Cobblepot enough times to know what the sauce did to him. His mood swings tended towards the extreme when he drank, liquor coating his brain like a thick blanket, dulling his ability to regulate his moods. If Gabriel said the wrong thing he doubted Oswald would stay on the phone with him – and that the phone would likely end up broken to prevent him from calling back.
“Yeah? You at Ed’s place again?” He suggested as he walked out of his apartment, locking the door as he went.
“No, Gabriel…” Oswald huffed on the other line, but then he chuckled. “Oh. That’s right. I haven’t seen you. I’m at my father’s home. Did you know I had a father, Gabe? He’s dead now, but I had one. I thought he was dead before… He didn’t know I existed until recently.”
Gabriel’s heart sank as Gertrud came to mind. Beautiful, kooky Gertrud with her lacy dresses and mess of hair. Gabe had seen more than his fair share of death in his life, but the loss of her still sat heavy in his heart. He could still recall the look on Oswald’s face when she was laid to rest, after all of his rage and violent sorrow had subsided. It was as if the light had been snuffed from his eyes, replaced by dull resignation, an acceptance of what the world had taken from him.
And now, to hear that he’d somehow found and lost his father in what Gabe could only imagine was a short time? No wonder he was drunk. Life was having its way with the poor guy.
“Yeah? Well when I get there you can tell me all about him. Er – hey, Oswald… I need the address.” He continued to speak in a soft tone, verbally tiptoeing around Oswald’s moods.
“Oh. You do, don’t you?” Oswald made a strange, high pitched noise of contemplation. “450 Maple Street… It’s.. I don’t know. Twenty, thirty minutes outside of Gotham? Past the western woods. When I came I was out of sorts.”
“No problem, boss. I’ll figure out where it is.” Gabriel promised.
“I know you will. Please come soon.” Oswald hiccuped again, and the sound of falling glass ended the conversation.
Outside of Gotham, past the western woods. Outside of Gotham, past the western woods. 450 Maple Street. Outside of Gotham… Gabriel repeated the direction doled out by Oswald, trying to crush down the mounting concerns ringing in his mind. What sort of situation had the other man gotten himself into? Why hadn’t Oswald shown up at his place once he was out of Arkham, so that Gabe could take care of him? Why had Cobblepot mentioned his father only to add on that he was now dead? He had heard that Oswald had shown up at Butch’s new base of operations and been turned away. Gabriel looked for him there, and then at Ed’s, but it was as if the former crime lord had simply disappeared. The only detail Edward offered up was that there was something seriously off about him, and that showing him the door was a kindness.
It took longer than thirty minutes to get to the sprawling estate. In Gabriel’s mind it took hours, and was riddled with paranoid visions of Oswald sick on the floor from too much to drink, passed out alone and cold. Whatever had happened to him, Gabe hadn’t been there like he had promised the night he had stolen his way into Arkham, and that thought was a knife in the gut.
As he pulled into the long driveway of the opulent manor, the mobster took a deep breath. Whatever had happened, whatever condition Oswald was in, now was the time to step it up. The memory of the kiss Oswald had placed on his lips in that dingy Arkham cell propelled him, causing him to swallow down the lump in his throat, cut the engine, and leave the car.
The building was nearly as imposing as the Asylum. It was the sort of place where rich people formed deep dark secrets that would turn the stomachs of the common folk. Even the sound of the wind creeping through every open window and every space between the wooden beams filled him with unease. Though he was not particularly superstitious, it felt as if the Evil Eye was on him, and he made the sign of the horn briefly as he walked up the steps. Better safe then cursed, right?
Gabe used the knocker on the front door. The thing was heavy, solid metal, and when it connected with the equally heavy door the sound was jarring.
What was more jarring was the silence that followed. Gabe tried again, and again after that, finally just trying the door handle. It wasn’t locked. It creaked open like a horror movie cliché, and in Gabriel went, looking around as he did. Everything seemed a bit excessive, but that was Oswald’s style. He was most comfortable in extravagance, at home in finery.
“Boss? Are you in here? Are you alright?” Gabe called. There was no answer but for the gentle echo of his own voice.
The discomfort in his stomach grew exponentially the moment he stepped into the dining hall. The unmistakable scent of iron and the beginning stages of decomposition hit him, acrid and thick. At least he knew it wasn’t Oswald who was dead. He brought a hand up, putting it over his mouth and nose to distract himself from the smell, looking around. There was a well dressed stiff slumped against the dinner table, which was set with what he could only assume was her last meal.
“Oswald… Come on boss, where are you?” He called again, leaving the area, moving towards a set of stairs.
“Gabriel!” The sound of his voice lilting down the stairs brought a happy grin to Gabe’s lips.
“Stay there boss… I’m headin’ up.” Gabe returned.
Gabe couldn’t remember the last time he actually sprinted up a flight of stairs at any speed, much less as fast as he did then. He was seriously out of shape these days. The need to see Oswald outweighed his disdain for excessive physical activity, though, so he ignored the burning in his chest that came about after he hit the top and down the hall to the only room with a light on. His eyes went wide at the sight that awaited him there.
Oswald sat on the couch against the wall of the room in a perfectly tailored suit, fiddling with the buttons of the jacket, which was undone and hanging off one shoulder. His hair was a mess on his head, having most likely been crushed down during the course of his drinking. Beautiful crystal decanters with varying types and amounts of liquors were strewn around the room, clustered more heavily in the space around the couch. Oswald’s face was the most jarring part of the entire house, telling a story that even the body downstairs neglected to. Specks of red splattered over flushed, freckled cheeks. Eyes opened wide despite the bags beneath, but cloudy and unfocused. Thin lips stained with wine, parted slightly to reveal yellowed, crooked teeth that ground down against one another, causing a visible tightness in Oswald’s jaw.
The man had come unhinged, and the booze was keeping him on the level.
Gabriel closed the space between them with several large steps, haphazardly pushing aside containers of liquid fire as he went. He sat beside the tiny man who looked even smaller now then ever, pale and gaunt save for the fullness of his belly caused by the drinking. He knew that was blood on his face, and that he had to have killed the lady downstairs. Perhaps she had killed his father, and summoned a wrath that could only come about when a man has been pushed to his limit.
“Oz…” He never shortened Oswald’s name. He barely used his name, sticking to calling him ‘boss’ the majority of the time. But he couldn’t manage another syllable, throat tight with worry.
“It’s so good to see you, Gabriel.” Oswald’s speech was a little slurred. With the amount he had likely drank it was amazing he could piece together a sentence, but alcohol tolerance would do that to a man.
“Yeah, you too boss… I missed you.” Gabe admitted softly, watching his face. The warmth that entered Oswald’s expression was reassuring. Maybe all Gabe had to do was talk to him, like he did in the asylum. Maybe everything would be okay if he just stayed with him.
“Have you been well? I… haven’t been keeping up. I wasn’t myself for a while.” Oswald looked away from him, glassy eyed gaze fixating on some space on the floor across the room.
“I been fine. Oswald… I think you should put the booze down, yeah?” Gabe suggested softly, holding a hand out for the decanter in Oswald’s hand.
“I don’t know if I can,” Oswald didn’t look at him still, white knuckled grip on the bottle. “I’m having something of a hard time lately… This year hasn’t gone very well for me.”
There was a blandness in Oswald’s voice that alarmed Gabe. There was no fire in it, no rage, no sadness, nothing he should be feeling. The only thing more frightening then Oswald’s extreme moods was when the moods ceased to be. It wasn’t like him. Gabe’s body felt heavy with dread. Something terrible had happened in Arkham, and then in that house. All he could hope was that he could coax Oswald back into himself, into the ambitious, cocky, well dressed manipulator he knew and loved.
Loved?
Gabe shook his head a little rougher then he meant to.
“I know, Boss… but you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t hole yourself up and drink yourself to death.” Gabe insisted, and snatched the bottle from his hands. Oswald barely reacted but to shake a little in surprise.
“Why not?” He asked, looking up at him now.
“Because it ain’t you. And I ain’t gonna let you.” Gabe asserted, setting the drink on the floor, pushing it away with a foot.
“What’s the point? Every time I start to come back into my own I’m slapped back down by the cruel hand of fate. My spirit is broken, Gabriel. A man can only take so much before he gives up. I should just die here, leave well enough alone. My family line is mired in tragedy, cursed!” Oswald’s eyes were wide as he spoke, volume beginning to pick up as pain slipped into his words.
“Because you’re Oswald fucking Cobblepot. The man who tore Gotham’s crime families to shreds with words. Who scratched his way to the top. The man who cheated death more times than I can remember. The only man who has ever really won my loyalty. Before I met you I woulda sold out my sister for a fancy car and a decent dinner. Whoever paid the most was the one who got my guns. And here you got me jumpin’ at your beck and call and you ain’t paid me in months!” Gabe reasoned, hands gripping Oswald’s shoulders.
“I… I don’t deserve your loyalty, Gabe. You’ve been my rock, truly.” Oswald broke into a sob, slumping in against Gabriel’s broad chest. He wrapped his arms around him the dramatic little man immediately, shaking his head.
“You do deserve it, Oz. Now, I think you should take a bath… Get some rest, and stay off the booze for a while. It’s a dangerous habit to get into.” Gabe advised, stroking his back.
“I don’t want to. If I go anywhere…” Oswald started, hands slipping between them to grip Gabe’s jacket with cold, thin fingers.
“If you go anywhere, you got me at your side. I got your back, remember? I’m not goin’ nowhere without you anymore.” Gabriel promised. He held him tight, hoping that the next time he had Oswald in his arms that the other man wouldn’t be in tears.
“I don’t want you to end up ruined or dead like everything else, Gabe… I can’t do that to you.” The former mafioso sobbed softly.
“Oz, hush up. You gotta stop thinking like that. Best thing about losing everything is that no one expects you to try to bounce back… It’s the perfect time to catch everyone off guard. Now how about that bath?” Gabe smiled softly.
“I think I would like a bath… will you stay with me?” Oswald pulled away, just enough to look up at him, sniffling, wide eyed and expectant.
“I ain’t gonna leave while you’re in there, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Gabe blinked a little.
“Come with me. You don’t have to get in the tub with me or anything but… If you could come in the bathroom I think I would feel better.” Oswald mumbled softly, suddenly coy.
Gabe’s cheeks flushed pink, unable to vocalize an answer. He made a noise of contemplation, and without warning lifted the small man into his arms, cradling him close to his chest. Oswald pressed the side of his face against him, closing his eyes.
“I’ll take that as confirmation that you’ll stay in there with me… Thank you, Gabriel. For everything. I adore you.” Oswald told him softly.
“I adore you too, boss. I’ll take care of you, alright?” Gabriel was glad Oswald’s eyes were closed so he didn’t catch the goofy grin that spread across his lips at his words.
“I know you will… you always do.” Oswald nodded a little.
“And I always will. For as long as I’m still breathin’.” Gabe promised.