Chapter 11
"Couldn't this have at least waited until daylight?" Butch asked after his tenth yawn of the trip.
"She made it sound very urgent....and I promised her," Oswald replied, looking out the passenger side window until he heard Butch let out a humored snort.
"What?" he asked, turning to face him.
"Nothing," Butch answered with a smile.
"People don't laugh for no reason unless they're insane, Butch. What is it?"
"It's just funny. I never thought I'd see the Penguin wrapped around somebody's little finger."
"I am NOT wrapped around her little finger," Oswald said in an annoyed tone.
"Uh huh, sure. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know? Happens to every guy at least once in his life....and she is a good looking girl."
"Thank you for that observation. Now, I'd really rather not discuss it with you further," Oswald said before pursing his lips tight.
"Alright, Oswald. What the hell?"
Butch hit the brakes at the sight of the burning cars ahead of him.
"Oh my God, what have you gotten yourself into, Edward?" Oswald asked as he surveyed the scene.
After they both got out of the vehicle, Oswald yelled, "Put the fires out before someone sees them and comes snooping around!"
"With what? I don't keep a fire extinguisher in the trunk!"
"Figure something out!"
"Fine, fine," Butch said, throwing up his hands in frustration.
Oswald limped over to the warehouse door and found it unlocked. Once he was inside, he saw Edward standing in front of a man who was tied to a chair. He had a bag over his head and was screaming so loud that Edward hadn't heard Oswald enter.
"Who's this?" Penguin asked.
Edward turned quickly and pulled his gun. Upon seeing who it was, however, he lowered it and said, "Hey, Oswald. What are you doing here? How'd you know where I was? Did y/n call you?"
"Yes, she did. She wanted me to see what you'd gotten yourself into. She thinks you're in trouble."
"Oh, far from it. I'm just taking care of some unfinished business here."
"Who is this?" Oswald repeated.
Edward simply nodded to the open gun case in the middle of the floor. Penguin recognized the weapon it contained from the sting.
"How did you manage that?" Oswald asked. He had to admit he was impressed.
"Patience, persistence, a bit of plastic explosives, and a whole lot of money," Edward said with a grin.
Oswald's attention was grabbed by a strange squeaking sound coming from the bag.
"Rats," Edward said, answering his unspoken question. "And I've got more good news," he added as he pulled your necklace out of his pocket.
"What is that?" Oswald asked as he stared at it. Suddenly, a strange chill ran down his spine.
"The bullet that got her. Her friend took it from the hospital. It's in bad condition, but I think I can make a comparison."
"Make a comparison to what?" Oswald asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"My gun...I've been thinking about it a lot, Oswald, and no matter how hard I try I cannot remember shooting that direction. When you told me that you saw me do it, paired with the fact that I knew how jealous I was and that I'm not conscious of everything that I do when HE takes over, I just knew that I had to be responsible. But, what if I'm not?"
"But, I saw you, Edward," Oswald said, the desperation beginning to seep into his voice.
"Maybe you were mistaken. There was a lot going on."
"You just said yourself that you can't remember what the other Edward does."
"He swears he didn't do it. He thought I did."
"And you're going to believe him?! Do you even hear what you're saying?!"
The man's screaming was becoming unbearable to Penguin. His head was throbbing. Pulling his own gun, he shot him and put an end to it.
"What's the harm in checking, Oswald?" Edward said, his voice taking on an unnerving level of calmness.
"I just, don't want you to blame yourself more than you already do," Penguin said. Even to his own ears, it sounded pathetic.
"You made it up, didn't you?" Edward asked, taking a step closer to him.
"No! Why would I?"
"My first thought was that maybe you wanted to kill her for some reason. But, if that was the case, you could have just left her dead. So I really started thinking about that day at the hospital. You knew why I would want to do it. Then, it occured to me: Right motive, wrong man."
Edward was still slowly coming towards him, and Oswald was backing up.
"I've already looked at the bullet, Oswald. I know you had Zsaz do it. You couldn't take a chance on it missing its mark and hitting her. But, even Zsaz couldn't do anything about her getting in the way. In the end, that presented you with an even better plan than the one you'd come up with. You could get rid of me, bring her back to life, and be her hero all at the same time. She'd be indebted to you forever, and you loved the thought of that."
Oswald aimed his gun at Edward.
"You of all people can't blame me, Edward. Where do you think I got the idea from? I just did what you already wanted to."
"Are you going to kill me, Oswald?"
"Perhaps, my old friend. I don't relish the idea, but I think you'll tell her. I can't have that."
Edward smirked when Oswald's foot hit the spot he had been waiting for. Pushing the button in his pocket, a current of electricity surged through his friend's body. Not enough to kill him, but enough to give Edward the upper hand.
Crouching over Oswald on the floor, he said, "Our guest over there got the same treatment...of course, for a lot longer than you did. I'm sure you didn't come alone, and I had to have a way to get you out of here. I doubt you would have gone with me willingly."
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"I don't know where he is," you semi-lied to Gordon for the third time.
Sitting across from you at his desk, he said, "I know you feel like you owe him something, but you don't."
You stayed silent as your eyes flickered over to Harvey. His expression held nothing but sympathy for you. He hadn't wanted to put you in this position, but his partner just wouldn't let it go.
"If you're afraid of him," Gordon began before you interrupted him with a wry chuckle.
"I'm not afraid of Edward Nygma," you said.
"You know, harboring a suspect is a crime," he said a little firmer, apparently taking a different approach.
"She said she didn't know," Steve said, stepping between the two of you protectively.
Jim sighed aloud as he studied the man in front of him. He'd come into conflict with a lot of ruthless, dangerous people in his line of work. Most of them he never gave a second thought about crossing if it needed doing. But the Captain was a formidable man, even though he was a good one.
"Give us a minute," Steve said. It wasn't a question.
Natasha and Clint wandered off in one direction while Gordon went the other. Harvey hovered somewhere in the middle, a physical representation of his current stance.
"Are you going to order me to tell him?" you asked Steve.
"No."
"But, you think I should?"
Steve took a deep breath.
"What would you say if I were to tell you I knew where Bucky was? Would you want me to turn him in?" he asked you.
"No, I wouldn't."
"I'd never put you in that position, either. What Nygma did wasn't right, but he didn't hurt anyone except for the man who indirectly hurt you. I say we wash our hands of it and go home."
You smiled up at him gratefully. Before you could respond, however, Butch came rushing up the stairs.
"What are you doing here voluntarily?" Harvey asked him.
"I'm here to see her," Butch replied, motioning to you. "I called her friends at Wayne Manor and they said she was here."
"What's wrong?" you asked. You still hadn't heard from Oswald, but you hadn't had time to think about it until now.
"I lost Penguin," he said.
"What do you mean 'lost'?"
"Lost as in can't find. We went down to the warehouses to see Nygma. Oswald told me to put out these car fires while he went inside. When I finally followed, there was no sign of him or Nygma."
"Shit," you muttered quietly.
"Could they have just left without you for some reason?" Gordon asked, joining the conversation.
"Penguin wouldn't have gone voluntarily....or quietly....unless he didn't have a choice," Butch said. "I'm thinking Nygma took him, but I don't know where or why."
"Aren't they friends?" Clint asked.
"That term doesn't mean a whole lot to either one of them," Butch said.
While the others discussed the situation, your mind was busy piecing things together.
"Natasha," you interrupted. "Did my bullet have any distinguishing characteristics? Anything recognizable about it?"
"Every bullet has striations unique to the gun that fired it," Gordan offered.
"I know, but I have something specific in mind. Could there have been something etched into it? A letter maybe? A Z?"
"I hadn't thought anything about it until now," she said as her face took on a far away look. "I was just concerned with making sure it wasn't one of ours. When the calibers didn't match up, I--" Shaking her head slightly to return herself to the present, she said, "There was something. I thought they were just scratches at first, but they looked too exact for that. I can't swear what it was, though. It was pretty smashed up."
"Why would Zsaz-" Butch began.
"I need to talk to him," you interrupted. "Can you get him here? Fast?"
"Sure," he answered, pulling out his phone.
"What's going on?" Clint asked.
"I won't know for sure until I talk to Victor."
"You think Zsaz was gunning for you?" Harvey asked. "You know he doesn't pull the trigger without a paycheck."
"I don't think it was me he was aiming for," you said quietly as your eyes landed on your partner.
Twenty minutes later, Zsaz arrived at the GCPD. As you pulled him aside, you felt Butch's presence behind you.
"Did Oswald order you to shoot me?" you asked. You didn't hesitate to get straight to the point.
"No," Zsaz said. "In fact, the boss gave me special instructions to keep an extra close eye on you that day."
You believed him, but there was something shifty about the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours. Even though you hated to hear it out loud, you had to ask your next question.
"He told you to shoot my partner, didn't he? And I just got in the way."
He was reluctant to answer, but he finally said, "Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't ask why. But, I'm glad you know. I felt bad about missing."
"I'm glad you did miss," you said.
Turning to face Butch, you asked him the same question.
When he didn't answer, you said, "I knew Edward was upset the night he saw me and Clint down at the warehouses. And I know Penguin knew that. But, why do it? And why let Ed take the blame? He thought he shot me himself. Unless he was lying and they were in on it together."
"I doubt Nygma knew anything about it," Butch replied.
"Butch," you said softly, urging him to continue.
He sighed then said, "Look, I didn't know. If I had, I would've warned you. All I've got are my theories. But, Oswald isn't as hard to figure out as he'd like to think."
You stared at him as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other.
"You remember how livid he was that first day you came to see us after the cops busted you?" he asked.
"Yeah, I do. Are you saying this has something to do with that? After all this time?"
"Yeah, but not in the way you're thinking."
"You shouldn't be here!" Butch hissed at you outside of Penguin's office door.
"I need to see him," you replied.
"No, you don't. He knows you've been talking to the cops. He's pissed. He wanted you taken out for being a traitor, but I reminded him that he owes his life to you. You need to leave before your luck runs out."
"It's not what you guys think," you said, dodging Butch's large frame and slipping through the door with him behind you.
You recognized the flash of pure anger in Oswald's eyes the moment he saw you. You'd seen that look before, and it never boded well for the person on the receiving end of it. But, you couldn't just walk out of his life without telling him the truth.
"Hey, Oswald," you said timidly.
The personal greeting caused his body to actually tremble from his barely contained rage. How dare you come back after your treachery? He had promoted you as high up in his organization as anyone could possibly go. Your place at his side was secure. You had earned his trust, which was something no one else had ever done. But at the first opportunity, you'd thrown it back in his face. He had been worried sick about you when he'd heard of your arrest and had already begun the process of bailing you out. But, apparently you couldn't wait that long. Instead, you'd sold him out in exchange for your freedom, and he hated you for it. He hated you more than he'd ever hated anyone.
Since you didn't expect an invitation, you silently hurried over to the chair across from his desk. You were conscious of Butch's presence behind you. Deep down, you knew you should have been frightened that Penguin might blow your head off before you could explain. But you just couldn't bring yourself to be afraid of him.
"I didn't expect to see you again so soon," he said, his voice obviously strained.
"I wanted to explain what happened."
"What is there to explain?" he replied with a forced, fake laugh. "You betrayed me. Snitched on me to the cops."
"I didn't," you began.
"At least have the decency not to lie to me now!" he screamed.
"If you'd shut up a minute, then I could tell you the truth!" you yelled back at him.
He settled in to listen to your story. He didn't know why he was humoring you. Perhaps, it was because you'd had the nerve to tell him to shut up. Impatiently, he motioned with his hand for you to speak.
"Here," you said, pulling a wallet out of your jacket pocket and tossing it on his desk. "This can explain it faster than I can."
You watched him as he flipped it open and looked at your badge inside. His expression went from angry, to confused, to worried in the blink of an eye.
"So, it's Agent y/n," he said quietly.
"Yeah."
"You've been investigating me."
He looked up quickly at the sound of your surprised laughter.
"Of course not. I'm not the GCPD or the FBI," you said with a roll of your eyes. "SHIELD has bigger things to worry about. I just needed a good cover, and I had one until the cops ruined it. Now, I've got to work this case from a whole new angle."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" he asked.
"You don't right now. I guess when I never show up to arrest you, you'll figure it out," you said with a smile.
He couldn't help but smile back at you. That's when he noticed the bruises you'd tried to cover with makeup.
"What happened to your face?" he asked, anger rising up in him again, but for a different reason this time.
"Oh yeah," you said, touching your skin lightly. "The detective that busted me really did a number on it, didn't he? I thought the only way I was ever getting out of there was by flashing my badge. They really messed things up for me."
"Anything I can do to help, just let me know."
Oswald was surprised at his own eagerness. A few minutes ago, he had been ready to kill you.
"Thanks."
Scooting forward, you reached across the desk and laid your hand on his forearm.
"I couldn't leave without explaining things to you. You've been good to me, and I've grown very fond of you, Oswald. I'm sure it'll be hard for you to trust me now that you know the truth. But remember it's also true that you are my friend, and I'll always be here if you need me. I hope you can believe that."
Oswald simply stared down at your hand, unsure of what to say. He'd grown very fond of you, as well. That's why your assumed betrayal had cut so deep. But, if you were telling the truth, then you weren't guilty of the crimes he'd accused you of. True, your relationship had started off under false pretenses, but you were here now, saying things you didn't have to say. You were always telling him things that other people didn't. Things that made him feel so complete inside. No one but his mother had ever made him feel that way before.
Oswald was disappointed when you pulled your hand back and said, "I guess I better get going. I've got a lot of work to do."
He rose from his desk as you stood.
"Thank you. I didn't like-- I feel better now," he said, changing his choice of words.
"I do, too. I'll see you around. Bye, Butch."