Paralyzer [Gotham]

4

I didn't like being home by myself, not after the crazy I brought through here. I had distracted myself trying to find a home for Victor's gun, but once I had that accomplished, not knowing what to do with myself had brought me to Andrew's door.

A slow twist of the knob had told me Victor had locked it. I hadn't been in there since... I took a deep breath and tried to find something else to distract me, only coming up with locating the key to the room. I was slow opening the door. It took me some time to adjust after the virus had ran it's course; I'd come through here like a bat out of hell, trying to lose the sense of Andrew's return. I'd made a mess of the place, even having hurt myself by the time Victor had found me.

He hadn't let me in since, not that I wanted to be.

He'd cleaned it up, made it livable again, but the room itself carried dark shadows. Not just Andrew's either. I had decided to keep the urn he'd given me close by, but tucked out of sight. He had set it up in the corner, her name carved into the nightstand below it and still fresh flowers placed before it. There was a twitch to my lips, as this implied he came in here often, running my fingers over the rigid 'Andromeda'.

He hardly showed it, rarely ever, but Victor cared, as deeply as anyone could. It was small things like this that reminded me of just how human he really was. And really, if you look past the professional homicide and self inflicted wounds, he was just as afflicted by the human connundrum. I kissed my fingers and touched them to the cold urn, taking one last sweep of the room before leaving and relocking the door.

As time passed I grew less expectant that Andrew would come home, being in the room again just reminded me that I screwed up royally, and even if he had woken up, he wouldn't want to be here. I looked up and found Victor at the front door, adjusting his gloves as he took me in with narrow eyes. "What were you doing in there?" he asked quietly, scanning me over as he came close.

"I was civil, I swear," I breathed, able to smile a bit when his lips twitched up. "Did you find Nygma?" He took my head in both hands and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the top of my head. His clothes smelt like fresh dirt, like Mom used to when she came in from gardening.

"No, he wasn't at the pier," he informed gently. I grabbed onto his wrists and relaxed under his hold, also picking up the metallic smell of blood.

"So now what?" I hummed, turning my head up. Victor pulled back to look me over, keeping his hands in place and running his thumb over my temple.

"So now we get to wait," he breathed. "Wait for those singing fools to come back. I have to say, it's fun watching Penguin dance around to everyone's games." I chuckled at the dark amusement that came over him, running my fingers over a small portion of his wrist

"Back to work?" He nodded and leaned forward, waiting for my eyes to close before placing a kiss on either of my eyelids. I worried about him, no matter how unfounded it was; even after I stopped doctoring, he always came straight to me if he was hurt and needed looking at. But these days he hardly came home without dragging the smells of death with him; his collection grew exponentially with each passing day, it seemed.

He was stock still as I took a hand off his wrist and held his cheek, smoothing my fingers over his skin a moment. "Thank you," I mumbled, offering a soft smile when he gained a hint of confusion.

"For what?" he hummed, clearly uncomfortable but allowing me to continue.

"For being so good to me, even if you aren't what people would normally classify as good. Even if you don't think of yourself that way." Seeing how he was at work definately gave me some perspective. Penguin was unfazed by his curtness, in fact I believe it was why mob bosses favored Victor so much. If the little I had seen at work and how cold he was initailly said anything about his character over the years, it was that all this was strange for him. It was why he wanted a lid kept on it, why he'd marked Andromeda's headstone with my name instead of his.

"Only the best for you, doc." He turned his head and kissed the heel of my palm, pulling back and nodding me to the door. I hated how he used the doctor thing to stir something up in me, at this point I wanted him to go back to being cold. Going to work with him was the closest I'd get to that.

[]

Penguin wanted me to do some work around the Iceberg Lounge and I refused to be one of his bartenders, so I put my neurotic cleaning from doctor days to use behind the bar. I only stopped when the rappers returned, leaning against the bar and smiling with amusement. Victor led them forward to Penguin's booth, two goons standing behind the men and remaining there as Victor sat with his back against the bar.

"I went to the pier," Penguin informed, all irritation about him. "I waited. Ed didn't show. He--" He slammed down his glass on the table in frustsration, as if realizing explaining himself to the messengers wouldn't help, balling up his hands as he tensely breathed, "God, just get on with it."

"Right," the rapper breathed. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper to check his notes and counted off for his beat boxer, who now held an actual box. I didn't really listen again, pouring myself a drink and tracing my fingers over Victor's back; I didn't get much but the leather vest he wore, though.

There was a thick silence after they'd finished their verse, avoiding looking at anyone as I took a drink. God, I don't know how he handled being in the middle of this ego match. Probably all the murder, I thought with a half shrug. "Honestly, that could be anything," Penguin eventually sighed.

"Can we please just torture them now?" Victor quickly tacked on.

"Why not?" the bird exasperated, clearly fed up. Victor nodded to his men, who promptly took hold of the duo and led them through the kitchen. Penguin finished off his drink with a sigh, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes when Victor turned, taking the glass from my hand and surprising me as he finished it off.

"Thought you don't drink on the job?" I hummed, holding out a hand for the empty glass.

"This isn't work," he chuckled darkly, giving me the glass and nodding to Cobblepot. "Keep the boss topped off." I sighed but nodded all the same, watching him follow the men through the kitchen door before grabbing the bottle of brandy by the neck and coming to refill his glass. We were opening soon and he couldn't even focus on being king pin with all this Nygma drama, Penguin needed the drink worse than I did.