Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

The Law's Longest Arm

    From Ed's bedroom, I watch the slow sprinkling of snow, as flakes land and melt against the window. Hopefully Montoya and Allen are doing alright with the investigation. I'm tangled in the covers, covered up to my neck in the warm, dull green quilt. Exhausted, I'd slept through most of the afternoon.

"Cozy?" Ed peeks into the room, carrying a metal tray with both hands.

I nod, "Yeah. Thanks."

He opens the door just enough for him to slide through with the tea tray. On the tray contains a steaming cup of tea, a plate of biscuits, and the jar of ointment he'd gotten that morning.

"Oh no, you're not going to run my back, are you? Ed, I really appreciate you trying to help, but-"

"No, no more excuses, Nat, you've been holding this off long enough. You want a speedy recovery, correct? Then let me help you," he tells me as he sets down the tray on the nightstand next to the bed.

I groan, rolling over, "Fine."

With my back now exposed, Ed sits down on the bed and lifts up my shirt, "So...remind me how you came by these wounds again?"

"It was work-related. Nothing major."

"Tell me, how does a police officer receive several moderate burns and lacerations? We're in the modern age, twenty lashes is no longer an acceptable punishment," he asks, dipping both hands into the jar of ointment and rubbing them together.

I cringe as he starts to rub my lower back, avoiding my bra. Should I come clean? Lying to Ed never works, not in the end. He'll know something's up if I try to fool him. Dammit...he knows me too well.

"That 'admirer' who wrote me that poem? ...he whipped me with a belt."

Ed's expression goes completely cold, as he backs off and seats himself in his chair, "...was it for romantic purposes?"

I scrunch my eyebrows, "Wh-what? No, Ed, he did it because...because he wanted to. It wasn't romantic at all."

"And yet you're still romantically affixed with this man?" he questions, striking a thinking pose.

I shake my head, "No, no! I-...I...I don't know, okay?"

Ed leans back in his chair, "Fascinating...after all he's done to you, there's still a hesitation as to what your feelings are for him. Instead of automatically reverting to hate, you respond with uncertainty."

"I don't need a psycho-analysis, Ed," I grumble, getting back under the sheets, "I just want to go to sleep."

"But-...there's still so many questions that need answering!" he argues, "Like: does he feel remorse for his actions? What motivated him to take these actions against you? Is this ointment I bought for you truly effective, or just a well-labelled snake oil-"

I quiet Ed with my index finger pressing against his lips, "Shush. You're suppose to be taking care of me. Now let me sleep."

After a pause, he brushes my hand away, and gets up to turn off the light. After a little bit of shuffling around, he gets into bed beside me. Placing his hand around my shoulder, he tilts his head toward me.

"Everything will be alright, Nat."

I sigh, and smile. That's all I needed to hear.

I'm rudely awaken by noise coming from Ed's living room. Looking up, the bedroom door's closed, and I have no way of seeing who, if anyone, is outside that door.

"Nat, were you awaken by that disturbance as well?" Ed whispers, his tone conveying neither fear nor concern.

I nod, "I'll investigate-"