Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

AKA Don't Forget to Write

    "So Ed, that guy you ran into while in that transitional pocket in space-time? He's a close friend of mine, the one who invented the portal that sent me here," I explain to Jessica as we ride in the car driven by Trish.

"But why would the portal send you here of all places?" Jessica questions, "I mean, not like I'm trying to kick you out or anything, but...why here? Why now?"

"I don't know," I confess, "for one thing, Harrison Wells, the man who activated the portal, he wanted to go to my universe's future, but didn't quite get it right before I stopped him. So who knows, this could be the future of some alternate universe."

"Well, depending on how long you're going to be staying here, you might wanna come up with a long-term plan," Trish suggests.

"You're right, maybe get a job, a place of my own, something small perhaps," I speculate.

Jessica blows a raspberry, "How? You have no records, no social security number, unless you wanna work some crap job at McDonalds you're not gonna going to find anything worthwhile."

I raise an eyebrow, "What's McDonalds?"

Trish shakes her head, "You don't wanna know."

"Oh, that's because Trish has no room for McDonalds in her world of organic, non-GMO parsnips and corn," Jessica chuckles dryly, leaning back and looking out the window.

"That is not true," Trish counters, "...I don't eat corn. It's a starch and I get enough of that in the pasta I make. Which you can atest, is amazing."

Without directly replying to her, Jessica continues, "Speaking of food, we should probably stop and eat. We're nearly out of the city, and unless we want to eat highway garbage..."

Trish stops the car at a small restaurant, and Jessica is the first out of the car, "Finally, you make a good food decision, Trish. I love shawarma."

"It was the first place I spotted, Jess. So don't blame me if whatever they serve here gets us all sick," Trish deflects.

"Relax food snob, it's shawarma. It's like a burrito, but better," Jessica quips as we enter the restaurant.

The sitting area is small, with just a couple of tables before the serving counter bleeds into the kitchen. A large American flag, as well as several black-and-white pictures hang on the limited wall space. I'm drawn to the pictures, and separate from Jessica and Trish to examine them.

"I'll order for you," Trish tells me, placing her hand on my shoulder for a brief second.

I nod, "Thanks."

Turning back to the pictures, the first one I spot is of a man standing in front of the restaurant, when the building was in a much better condition. He's wearing a shirt and tie, just like the ones worn by the men at the GCPD. I smile, it's good to be reminded of home, even just a little.

"Pretty interesting, no?" a strong, yet soft voice asks.

I turn to my right to find a giant, heavily built man, but with the face almost of a boy. He smiles, showing off his perfect white teeth and bluish-green eyes.

He scratches the back of his head, "Oh...uh, pardon me, miss. Couldn't help but comment."

"It's not a problem," I reply, smiling back, "it's just...everyone dresses like that where I'm from."

The man looks at me with an expression of doopie surprise, "No kidding. Where you from?"

"I doubt you've heard of it...it's a place called Gotham City," I explain.

"Gotham? That use to be a nickname for New York. At least back when...I...I guess it never caught on, but it's good to hear some other place has taken up the name. It's nice, catchy," he sputters out.

Trying to recover, he extends his hand out to me, "I'm Steve Rogers."

Giggling a little, I shake his hand, "Natalie."

We release our hands, his large hand eclipsing mine. He asks, "You ever had shawarma? This is only my second time. Some friends of mine turned me onto this place."

"Never had it. This is my first time," I confess, "I don't eat out a lot."

"Same...you know, uhm, sometimes Bucky...a...a friend of mine, he would take me to one of those drive-in diners. Uhm...are...are those still around?"

"I should hope so...but..." I stop myself, "but I wouldn't know if they have those in New York. I haven't been in town for very long."

"Me neither. The...the place I grew up in, it's...well, it was almost like New York City, the place right in front of us right now. But, even with all the similarities, for all the things that haven't changed, there are differences. And now..."

Steve fades off in the middle of his sentence, and Natalie turns to him, "You're worried you can't get home?"

He meets her gaze, and then shakes his head, "No, I know I can't get home...what...what about you, Natalie? Can you get home?"

I think on that for a second, before responding, "Honestly...I don't know. But if I can't go home...then maybe...maybe I wouldn't mind making a new home here."

"Yeah...yeah...uhm...sorry...sorry for forcing such a heavy conversation topic on you. I'm not really one for first impressions. But maybe...could I get your number? I recently got myself one of those smartphone thingies-"

"Natalie, who is this?!" Jessica shouts, marching over toward us.

"Oh, Jessica, this is Steve, we were just talking-"

She pulls me away from him, "He could be under Kilgrave's control. We are to trust nobody, Natalie, nobody."

I look Jessica in the eye, before glancing back at Steve. It's true, Kilgrave can control anyone around us, he doesn't need to be around to have his people after us. But, there's something familiar about this man...something...that reminds me of home.

"We're leaving," Jessica spits, before grabbing my wrist and pulling me away and out of the restaurant.

As I'm forced out of the restaurant, I take one more look at Steve, as he waves goodbye with an awkward wave.

"Nice meeting you. Don't forget to write!" I barely hear his half-hearted joke as I'm led into Trish's car.

Jessica slams the door shut, as she commands to Trish, "Drive!"

"I know, I know, you don't have to tell me!" Trish responds, as she fastens her seatbelt.

As the car screeches off, Jessica sighs, slamming her back into the car seat, "That was close."

"Close? Close to what? We were just having a conversation, he wasn't attacking me," I argue, glaring at her.

"Kilgrave could have sent him to get information on us. To figure out where we're going, hell, he could have just given up our location and Kilgrave is headed towards here right now. We may not be there when that happens, but it means endangering anyone who is there when he does," Jessica fires back.

"Both of you, shut up and eat your shawarma," Trish grabs our attention from the front seat, "what's done is done. Who knows, that guy could've been an agent for Kilgrave, or he could have been no one, let's just drop it, and start eating. I need one of you to finish so I can take a break from driving."

Jessica and I lock eyes, staring each other down before I bring up, "My driver's license isn't valid in this universe."