Chapter Text
Jim looked up from his book, at the view of the ocean from their patio. The way the golden, late afternoon light transformed the landscape was magical. He been thinking about taking up photography again, and living in a tropical paradise was a provocative motivation.
He looked over to see Oswald dozing on a nearby lounger. The magazine he was reading had fallen out of his hands, his hair was mussed; he looked perfectly relaxed, and so damned young. In the weeks since they’d first discussed it, Oswald had allowed his hair color to grow out; and now it was a soft, warm brown.
Jim was counting his blessings when he heard the doorbell.
He left their guest in the living room, returning poolside to wake up Oswald.
“Ozzie.” He leaned over him, his face close to his ear. “Ozzie. Listen to me.” There was a quiet sense of urgency in his voice that made Oswald instantly alert.
“What’s the matter?”
“Let me do the talking. Follow my lead.” Jim whispered. “Stay calm, and smile.”
He helped Oswald up; took him by the hand and led him inside. A grizzled, unkempt man with a scraggly beard was sprawled across a chair, with a drink in his hand.
“Oswald, you remember Detective Bullock.” Jim reached for Harvey’s glass. “May I freshen up your drink, Detective?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Gordon. How’ve you been, Dr. Cobblepot?”
“Never better, Detective. My, you’re a long way from Gotham. May I ask what brings you here?”
Brazen, Harvey thought. “There’s been a rash of cases similar to Mr. Gordon’s, and he’s the only person who’s survived being injected with what we now think is a version of Gerald Crane’s fear serum. So I wanted to talk to him.”
“You’ve come a long way for the little I can tell you; and please, call me Jim. “He handed Harvey the glass. “I read about the Crane case-horrible, what he did to his son. What makes you think this is related to what happened to me?”
“My partner, Carlos, and I were the ones who took Crane down. When forensics got there, they discovered his house had been ransacked. His research, notes, hard drives, all gone. There were some samples of the serum that he had on him when he died, so at least we had those to analyze. Then last week, there was a break in where the intended victim shot the intruder dead-and we got a syringe full of the stuff we think you were shot up with. Our guy Nygma says the two drugs show a number of similarities. It’d be helpful if you’d talk to me about your experience.”
Jim joined Oswald on the sofa, and draped an arm around his shoulders. “I was attacked by someone I thought was a burglar. They jammed a syringe in my leg, and I blacked out. I don’t remember being afraid, when I was delusional; my fantasy seemed completely real, a whole world that I inhabited, like a dream. I imagined I was a police officer, who ended up broke and unemployed, wallowing in self-pity and the memory of failed relationships and broken dreams. It was more depressing than frightening.”
“But you’re fine now?” Harvey scrutinized Jim.
“Yes. I’ve recovered all the memories of my former life; and, that happened right before I left Gotham. It was a lot to deal with. Oswald offered me a chance to get away from Gotham, start fresh. You’ve got to admit, Gotham can be a gloomy sort of place; nasty climate, and it held a lot of bad memories for me.”
Harvey looked skeptical. “I got a different picture. As in, one of your doctors became obsessed with you; used your delusions to trick you into running away with him, and destroyed his career in the process.”
Jim smiled. “That’s quite a fairy tale; and, completely impossible to prove in court. As a lawyer, I should know. There’s nothing illegal about two consenting adults of sound mind, leaving their former jobs to start a new life together somewhere else. Failing to inform my ex-fiancé, or my partners at work, makes me an asshat-not a criminal.”
“So the drug just wore off by itself. You gotta admit, though- if you could fine tune it, you could use it to create a delusional state, and then control a person; get them to do whatever you wanted.”
“You think like a criminal, Detective. You must be one of those profilers, the kind we see on television. Would you like something to eat? Another drink?” Oswald hid his anxiety behind a show of hospitality.
“No thanks, I’ve bothered you enough. This trip is a combination of business and pleasure. My girlfriend’s waitin’ for me at the hotel. I told her I wouldn’t be gone long, and I don’t wanna risk disappointing her.” Harvey grinned. “She’s a redhead; it’s bad for your health to disappoint redheads. One more thing, though. I didn’t have much trouble tracking you down. After you vanished, your ex hired some private detectives to find you. They told her they couldn’t; I got a source that says they were paid off to tell her that, but my source didn’t know who did the payin’. You got any ideas?”
“None. Can I see you out?” Jim walked Harvey to the door. “Don’t hesitate to call if you have any more questions.”
He returned to sit next to Oswald. “Let me start. I began getting my memory back a few weeks ago, after the night I tore my room apart. I was waiting for the right time to talk to you about it. Everything was going so well between us, I didn’t want to rock the boat.”
“This is what I brought you here for-to get well.” Oswald took a deep breath. “The first time I saw you, you were sitting in your room, your head down; your hair in your face. When I spoke to you, you lunged at me; pushed me up against the wall and told me you’d warned me never to come back to Gotham. I became part of your fantasy world.
Dr. Thompkins tried everything. Medications didn’t make a dent. She tried shock treatments, as a last resort. I went to see you after one of them. You were unresponsive. As I turned to leave, you came up behind me and put your arms around me. You wanted to kiss me. You said you knew it was wrong, that I was a criminal, and a murderer. You said you’d been fighting your feelings for me since the day you threw me off the end of a dock, and you couldn’t stand it anymore, you couldn’t live without me. So I kissed you. I started making plans that very day, to bring you here. After a few days, you forgot about kissing me, and reverted to a fantasy where we were enemies, so I played along. Do you hate me, for what I’ve done?”
“Hate you?” Jim leaned in, and captured his lover’s lips with his own. “ You were willing to sacrifice your whole life, to help me.” Jim lifted Oswald onto his lap. “ I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Being a lawyer and a psychiatrist may not be as colorful as being a cop and a crime lord, but I think we’ll manage. That is, if you think I’m a keeper.”
“I know you’re a keeper.” Oswald’s eyes were wet; he wrapped his arms around Jim’s neck. “And I love you, too.”
As the stars came out, they cuddled, and kissed, and talked; and neither of them mentioned Gotham, or even thought about it.
________________
Harvey Dent always took time to flirt with the svelte blonde at the front desk. He made it a practice to flirt with almost everyone he met; business, pleasure-you never knew how someone might prove useful, someday.
“Doctor Dunstein said to send you right up, Mr. Dent.”
Harvey whistled in the elevator, eager to see what progress his friend’d been making. “Freddy! How’s my favorite business partner doing?”
The doctor rose to shake Harvey’s hand, his slender frame silhouetted by the light from the array of windows. “Quite well, Counselor. I’ve had some progress with the latest subjects; the ones I’m working on here, experimenting with the dosage. I’m sure you don’t mind that I’ve killed off a few of the people on the list you gave me.”
“Not at all.” Harvey flashed his most sincere smile. “I needed them gone, or under my control, it didn’t matter which. When you get this serum of yours perfected, it’ll be a gift from the gods. Until then?” He shrugged. “You have to break some eggs, right?”
“Indeed. How is your lovely fiancé, Ms. Kean?”
“Wealthy. I can’t thank you enough for getting Jim out of the way. It would’ve been a shame for all that money to go to waste; and if it’s not mine, that’s such a waste, don’t you agree?”
“Unless it’s mine.” They both laughed. “I suppose we have the late Dr. Crane to thank for doing the original research for us, on our joint venture. Shall we drink to his memory?”
The two men chatted for a while, before Harvey had to hurry away to meet Barbara. As he was leaving, he looked back, recalling a quote from “Julius Caesar”: “Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look, He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.” Inexplicably, he shuddered; his grandmother always said that meant someone just walked over the site of your future grave.
The doctor sat for a long time, drinking his brandy; and enjoying the breath-taking view of the city his office afforded him. He’d selected the building, and this office in particular, for it’s aesthetic appeal.
No one could ever accuse Dr. Dulmacher of having less than exquisite taste.