Eighteen

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A/N Sorry for the wait on this everyone. You know how sometimes you start something and you're like ' well, this isn't bad at all! I can do this! but then after a couple weeks, you sound more like ' oh god why did I think I could do this? Please let the school bus run me over so I don't have to take an exam over transcendentalism.' That's junior year. Don't worry, though, things are better now that band is over and writers' block has been destroyed so I should be back to writing up a storm. Also, the song above is called "Who's Sorry Now and it's by Connie Francis. This was the ringtone that Ed used for Oswald in the show. I thought it would be a nice little addition.

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Ed was, for once in his life, happy. The person he loved was back in from the dead and delivered straight into arms. It wasn't ideal and he didn't think this was how lovers in those bargain bin romance novels were brought back together, but what did he know? It wasn't like he had ever read one. His phone began to ring, sending vibrations through the metal desk and causing a few papers he had been filling out to shift. The smile that had so often graced his features for the past few days began to slip as the person on the other line began to speak.

"Again?" Edward finally sighed into the phone," Did you try jiggling the handle?"

He raised his eyes to the ceiling of his office in annoyance. Oswald Cobblepot, the very first admission to Edward's makeshift hospital, had clogged the garbage disposal again. He was starting to rethink his decision to leave Kylie in the care of the former King of Gotham. If he couldn't use a basic appliance, how could he possibly be a fit guardian of an unconscious woman?

"Well, what did you put down it?" the scientist demanded, touching the tips of his fingers to the center of his forehead. A small, yet annoying, pain was beginning to blossom there. 

A corner of his mouth tugged downwards at the man's reply, but before he could offer his opinion on the man's lack of competence the clicking of a pair of heels pulled his attention away from the conversation. He snapped the phone shut and slid it away from him as a dark-haired woman peered into the room. All Edward could do now was hope that the apartment was still in one piece when he got back.

"Doctor Thompkins," he greeted with a forced smile," Can I help you?"

"Hi, Ed, this is the autopsy on the dead monk," she informed him as she handed over the folder," Jim wants you to run toxicology."

He flipped it open and skimmed over the report," Fascinating," he quipped," the need to inflict that kind of pain on oneself." (A/N how I feel about my AP Language class tbh)

This would make him late getting home. Again.

Edward paused and looked up, hiding his annoyance," Is there anything else?"

"No," the doctor replied but as she turned away she changed her mind," Well, yes."

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

There was a pause," Was that Kristen you were just talking to?" she inquired, pointing at the cell phone laying on top of a stack of papers.

A sliver of panic buried itself in his chest as he swallowed and scratched the back of his head," What?"

"Oh, sorry," Leslie started," It just sounded like you were talking to someone in your apartment and who besides-"

"I was talking to my plumber," he interjected hastily.

Why was she asking questions?

"Oh," her eyebrows furrowed," Well have you heard from Kristen? I know she said she was sick but I -"

"As it happens she is not sick, she lied, to all of us. I just found out Miss Kringle left town with Officer Dougherty," he bluffed smoothly.

There was a brief silence as Doctor Thompkins processed the information and Edward hoped she would believe the lie.

"She left Gotham with Dougherty?" she questioned, disbelief lacing her words," but he was abusive."

Edward let out a derisive chuckle and shrugged," Love."

She swallowed," I'm stunned-"

 "Who's sorry now
Who's sorry now
Who's heart is aching for breaking each vow
Who's sad and blue
Who's crying too
Just like I cried over you "

Edward glanced at his phone and saw the display light up with Oswald's name. He was really going to have to change that song.

Leslie raised an eyebrow at the ringtone," Do you need to get that?"

"No," he replied as he tapped his pen on the desk," I don't think so."

There was a brief pause before Ed came up with the one surefire way to get the woman out of his hair. He took off his glasses, allowing his head to fall into his hands and a sob to escape his throat. Emotional distress makes everyone uncomfortable, especially those who are uneasy around you to begin with.

"Oh, Ed," Leslie said, sickening pity woven into every syllable," You must be devastated."

He lifted his head as a comforting hand rested on his shoulder and nodded, keeping his eyes trained on a folded piece of paper on his desk, "Right now," he sniffled," I'm just trying to focus on the job."

Which was true, in a sense. It was difficult to focus on the job at hand when the one person he cared for was comatose and lying on a bed in a drafty apartment with her blonde hair fanned over a pillow. Not to mention the fact she was under the watchful eye of a defunct crime boss who has trouble finding spicy mustard in the fridge. It was hard not to worry about her.

There was an awkward pat," Well, let me know if you ever want to talk," she offered as she took an uncomfortable half step away.

"Thank you. That means a lot."

He waited until the woman had left to slide his glasses back on with a scowl of annoyance and grab his phone, which had started to ring again. He wondered what Penguin had broken now.

"What?" he snapped angrily, expecting to be asked even more ridiculous questions about the apartment.

"Ed," an excited voice bled through the speaker," She's awake."

It took a moment for him to process what the man had said.

"Put her on," he sputtered after a moment of stunned silence.

The exchange was muffled but nothing sounded more clear and sweet than her feeble voice as it filtered through the line.

"Eddie?"

The brightest smile broke out on his face and lit brown eyes with delight. Never had he felt lighter.











guess // edward nygma //Where stories live. Discover now