Chapter Ninety-Three: Lark, Dethroned

"Syl…via…"

Who was that? What…

"Sylv…ia…?"

Her mind was so foggy. Her mind…

"What the…Oh, hell…Sylvia? What…Liv…!"

After what might have been a minute since the voice called out to her, a pair of hands tapped her hard on the shoulders. Then that feeling faded until some time passed before the same hands picked her up and she fell steadily to a cushioned surface.

Tapped her…They tapped her?

Wait, she felt that!

Sylvia sleepily opened her eyes, instinctively rolling to her side. When she did, everything from her stomach readily jumped to the back of her throat. Lunging forward, Sylvia threw up in a metal bucket that had been conveniently placed beside her.

"Easy…"

That voice!

Sylvia turned her head. Seeing Victor Zsasz, she scurried away, fumbling, and stumbling over her hands and feet before her head smacked straight into the edge of the coffee table as she fell off the couch.

"Whoa!" He caught her shoulders. "Easy, hey, hey, hey!"

"Nnnnooo." Sylvia groaned, wrestling against him. After a moment, the struggle was forsaken as she grabbed the bucket before gagging into it once more.

His hand rubbed her back as he settled down to the floor alongside her.

"Sit right here." Victor said firmly. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"No! Wait!" She grabbed onto his sleeve and thrust her hand downward, pulling him back down to his knees.

He wasn't surprised by her strength as much as he was startled by the sudden switch of how quickly she tried seeking out his help when not only a second ago, she was fighting him.

She was trying to gather her surroundings; at the same time, self-preservation had kicked itself into fifth gear as she gained consciousness, or at least that's what Victor suspected.

"Oswald…" Her face broke as she attempted not to cry, but her voice betrayed her. "H-he…He, and with Barbara…Tabi—and Butch—"

She didn't make it through a full sentence before she grabbed the bucket and started gagging again, releasing him in the process.

Victor reassured her that he would return and that he wasn't going far. She could only nod before she wretched harder, although nothing came out.

He quickly left to the kitchen, pouring her a glass of water. When he returned, Sylvia had managed to climb halfway back on the couch. One leg was on the cushion fully; the other was hovering diagonally as if she was still making the effort to ascend.

"Ah, Liv."

He put the glass down on the coffee table, taking her by the stomach and he configured her body, so she sat upright although she leaned downward into the corner between the back and arm of the couch.

Her eyes focused in and out, sometimes peering at or through him. Once he was certain she wasn't going to either fall forward or pass out on him, Victor leaned forward, taking the glass of water, and handed it to her.

"Small sips." He advised.

Sylvia nodded, making a noise of understanding. In the meantime, Victor took a good look at her.

Her eyes were red, but not in the way they might've been if she had been sleep-deprived; her disorientation, the nausea and vomiting, yet her ability to be mobile—These were the post side effects to whatever had been in those needles; he'd pried off the syringe darts that she had stuck to her neck, bicep, and outermost thigh while she had been asleep.

"Why…" Sylvia said hoarsely, looking at him groggily. "Why are…"

"Why am I here?" Victor finished. She nodded. "After Jerome Valeska came back from the dead, I figured you and Penguin would be holed up here. When you didn't answer any of my phone calls this morning, I figured I'd come by, see if you were still angry about what happened between Jim and me. Door was locked, but I got in—you know, through the window, which wasn't locked. When I come in" (He gestured to the living room) "You're on the floor, sleeping, covered in needles—completely knocked out."

Sylvia rubbed her eyes; she nearly dropped the glass before Victor quickly grabbed it and delicately placed it on the table.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Victor said calmly.

She shook her head, still on the brink of uncontrollable sobbing: "It happened so fast…"

"Take your time." He reclined against the couch, an arm on the back behind her.

She was quiet for a moment as if her mind were slowly cutting down the weeds to gather the full picture. When she finally seemed to gather what happened the day before, her face evolved into one of realization.

She quickly moved towards the coffee table, reaching down for the metal bucket, and emptying her stomach of the water she'd just barely kept down.

However, her answer did come back in the form of an echo against the can: "Barbara, Tabitha, Butch, and Edward Nygma…" She inhaled sharply before she gagged again.

After a point, she stopped and placed the bucket back down on the floor, rubbing her chin with the back of her hand.

"I think…" She said hoarsely. "I think Ed killed Oswald."

Victor stared at her for a second or two before he touched her knee comfortingly, saying, "Do you know—"

"—I know how crazy it sounds!" Sylvia snapped, pushing his hand away. "But that's what he said to me! He said he was going to kill him! He said—and I couldn't do anything because I couldn't move and I tried going after them, but I just couldn't get my feet to work, and—." Her words failed her once she started crying again.

Victor sighed, pulling her to him. Her face pressed against his vest and her hands fell on his stomach.

"I think Ed killed him and I couldn't—I couldn't—"

"It's okay." He whispered, rubbing her back. "Just let it out."

A few buckets of tears later, Sylvia sat on the couch in black capris, a white T-shirt, and her hair was pulled up into a ponytail. Victor strode from the kitchen to the living room, handing her a cup of coffee. When she rejected the offer, he simply placed it on the coffee table in any case she wanted it later.

A few minutes passed in which they were silent. He occasionally peered up at her, seeing if she was ready to talk. However, she mostly just stared at the floor as if she were either remembering these past events or looking incredibly lost.

He'd never seen her in shock before. Sure, there were times he'd seen her grieve; he'd seen both Penguin and Sylvia's emotions rubbed raw the day Gertrud died. While Penguin had nearly fallen apart, Sylvia had risen like a phoenix, hardening her emotions at least until Penguin had recovered. But Victor had never really seen her in shock—not like this.

She looked at him. While most of the nausea and vomiting side effects from the sedation had faded in the last hour, she was still suffering from the exhaustion and fatigue that remained.

Victor was satisfied to see that despite her fatigue, there was a darkness in the way her gaze met his.

"However, you want to do this," He said finally. "I'm on board. We can look for Penguin anytime you want."

"There's no point," Sylvia croaked. "Ed said he was going to kill Oswald."

"Maybe he was bluffing."

"Ed doesn't bluff."

"Either way—"

"Victor…please." She rubbed her face. A dry sob escaped her before she sniffed and said firmly, "I want to find Charleen and make sure she's okay first."

Victor quirked a hairless eyebrow: "Who's Charleen?"

"She's in some form or fashion kind of like my ward." Sylvia said vaguely, getting to her feet.

Wordlessly, she searched the living room for her flats. Finding them under the couch, she slipped them on. Victor watched her interestedly; even as she was undergoing crippling emotional distress, he reckoned there was still a wick ready to be set aflame at any moment.

"She said she was going to the Flea to take care of business."

"Most of the Flea was burned down."

Sylvia looked at him suddenly: "What?"

Victor stood and said carefully, "Jerome's followers took a torch to it last night—right along with the rest of the city."

She frowned, saying, "I'm still going."

As she said so, the front door opened. Victor pulled out the two Glocks nested in the sheathes of his holster vest, stepping in front of Sylvia just as soon as Barbara Kean had walked in with Tabitha Galavan. With them were six people of whom were unfamiliar and unnamed: back-up.

"The door was unlocked," Barbara said smoothly, smiling even while Victor stood at the ready. "We figured we'd stop by."

Sylvia looked up from her place on the couch.

She said coldly, "What do you want?"

"I want to talk." Barbara answered kindly. She pointedly looked at Victor: "That's all I want to do. What do you say, Lark?"

"That depends." Sylvia said shakily, standing. "Where's Oswald?"

"I'm pretty sure you know the answer to that," Tabitha said with a sly smile.

"Tabby, shh!" Barbara hissed, glaring at her.

"What?" Tabitha said indignantly. "It's not like she doesn't already know—"

"VICTOR!"

Once he heard Sylvia shout his name, Victor pulled the hammer back on both of his weapons.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Barbara pleaded, stepping forward between the professional hitman and Tabitha.

Victor glanced over his shoulder readily at Sylvia, who was quiet for a moment before she seemed to push herself forward. He felt her tap his shoulder and he lowered one arm but kept his eyes trained on all of the intruders currently standing in the room: All eight of them.

"I know you're angry, Sylvia…" Barbara said evenly, holding out an arm.

"You can't even begin to understand what the fuck I'm feeling, Barbara!" Sylvia responded hotly, although her voice was surprisingly quieter even though it came out unsteady.

"She can try," Tabitha muttered.

"GET OUT!" Sylvia bellowed.

"Hold on!" Barbara said quickly, shifting her position as she gritted her teeth when Victor raised the other gun. "We can talk…just us. Please."

Victor once more glanced back at Sylvia, waiting for the order. He would readily do what she wanted. That spark he'd been waiting to ignite evidently had a smaller wick than he'd anticipated. Her entire body shook with rage; it was as if that emotion would eventually eek itself out and become a physical manifestation at any point.

"Fine." Sylvia's voice quivered. "You stay. The others leave."

"Thank you," Barbara returned sincerely.

Tabitha and the other six that accompanied made a point to leave not before Tabitha sent Barbara a concerned glance. Barbara nodded her head, encouraging her to vacate.

When the door was closed, Sylvia sat down in the armchair slowly.

"Aren't you going to dismiss him?" Barbara hinted glancing at Victor.

"No." Sylvia returned icily. "You stood by and let Butch sedate me. And then you left me alone, immobilized, for the last 36 hours while these rabid motherfuckers tore this city apart. No. Victor stays. But…" She tilted her head to the side a little and Victor nodded. "I'll do you the kindness to not have a gun being pointed at your face."

Victor stepped to the side.

Barbara sat on the couch, glancing at the blood stain from where Alex had died, and the few others from last night where the beverages had been spilled upon their surprise entry. She gave Victor a second glance, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and doubtfully would be anytime soon.

Sylvia glowered.

"Talk." She ordered.

Barbara said softly, "As a gentle reminder: Edward Nygma was behind killing Oswald. I didn't do anything—"

"—Besides help him do it. Why don't you skip that part and get to the reason as to why you're here and why I shouldn't rip your heart out of your body." Sylvia interrupted.

"I left your Crime Family alone." Barbara skipped to the basics as requested, if not willingly. Even while she was certain that Sylvia wouldn't kill her, there was no telling how long that mercy would tie her over. "Paddock's old crew, Benson, your twins, Gabe—even—they're all safe; none of them were harmed, because I made that happen."

"Really."

"Yes. Tabitha wanted to kill all of them, including you, but I didn't let her because—"

"—So, I should be grateful to you. Is that it?"

"I'm saying it could be a lot worse."

"Did Ed really kill Oswald?" Sylvia questioned.

"Well, yes—"

"—Then I fail to see how it could possibly get worse!"

"You still have a Crime Family to rule. You still have connections in the Mainland. Your people you're responsible for are still alive." Barbara listed, ignoring Sylvia's furious and snide comments (however justified they were). "And as long as you do what I say, it'll stay that way."

Victor frowned.

Sylvia's reaction was visceral as she lunged forward; a lick of burning, white-hot anger seemed to dig into her insides, causing her to cross over the coffee table and grab Barbara by the throat, shoving her back harder into the couch.

"You are in no position to threaten me or my staff." Sylvia said hatefully. "You're going to hold the lives of everyone that you and that fucking bitch didn't kill over my head? You think you can just walk into my home and tell me what it's gonna be like from here on out? What are you really here for, Barbara? And why, after all of this, did you not kill me too!"

"Because you've been my friend!" Barbara said quickly, although her hands moved to the one that was borne around her neck. "Okay? And I like you. And…at the risk of you strangling me…I…I thought you'd be at least a little happy that I made all of them keep you alive."

"You think you were merciful for keeping me alive?" Sylvia's voice heightened into hysterical cynicism, releasing Barbara and allowing the woman to lax as she straightened, glowering. "Ed killed Oswald! It would have been merciful if you had killed me as well! That's not mercy—that's an investment." She sat back down in the armchair.

Victor stayed on her left, although by this point, he'd lowered his weapons completely. Sylvia wouldn't be looking to him for Barbara's punishment if it came down to it. No way. She'd want to carry it out herself. And as much as missing that kind of hands-on fun would suck, Victor was in no way shape or form ready to argue the point.

Having regained her somewhat self-composure, at least long enough to not gut her where she sat, Sylvia looked at Barbara with a glare that might kill the toughest man alive and said firmly, "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Barbara said coolly, smiling a little. "You're the Lark. Even with Penguin gone, I know that the moment you seek to rebuild the empire, you'll be promoting your people to capos and before you know it, we'll have targets on our backs. I'm here to make certain that you're not going to do that. Instead…"

Sylvia chuckled darkly. The sound made Barbara's confidence stutter.

"You want the empire?" Sylvia said dryly. "Is that all? You want to rule?"

"Exactly."

"You can have it. Take it. It's yours."

Victor uttered under his breath, "Liv…you're not serious…?"

"You're not going to fight for it?" Barbara asked; she sounded more disappointed than anything.

"What am I fighting for? What else am I holding onto?" Sylvia questioned no one in particular.

She took the invisible crown off her head and handed it to Barbara sarcastically, who could only stare at her in surprise.

"Here. Have it. Wear it. Choke on it for all I care. I don't give a damn anymore. Enjoy."

"You're giving it up just like that?" Barbara asked, taken aback.

"Why not…Fuck it…"

Barbara bit the inside of her cheek. She paused for a second, seeing Sylvia tread the line between trying to keep her cool and hysterical rage.

"Sylvia," Barbara uttered gently. "As your friend…I'm offering you to be my lieutenant like what you were before you stepped down to be a Don or Donna or whatever. And you can still keep your club."

"…Huh…"

"All of that is still yours." Barbara comforted. "I'm not going to take anything away from you—"

"YOU'VE ALREADY TAKEN EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!" Sylvia bellowed as she was on her feet instantly. "How can you not understand that, you fucking bitch!"

Barbara flinched back, tightly closing her eyes in any case Sylvia delivered the blow. When no harm came to her, she slowly opened them to see Sylvia standing in front of her. Her eyes were a stormy cerulean-tinged gray, and while there was rage, her grief had quickly replaced it instead.

"Whatever deal you're trying to strike with me, you can keep it." She uttered dangerously. "It's because of our friendship in the past—that history…I won't kill you. But fuck your charity; fuck your deals. And fuck you."

"Sylvia, listen to me. If you don't take it, your Family—Paddock's people—are going to be taken advantage of. People are going to try and get your club; they're going to stake out whatever's left of your territory if you don't make this deal with me. Do you understand that?" Barbara persuaded.

"Let them." Sylvia said carelessly, sitting back in the armchair. "I don't care. I really don't."

Victor gave Barbara the nod towards the door. The hint to leave while she still could.

"Before you go," Sylvia said quietly, staring down at the floor, "Would you mind telling me where Ed killed him? I'd like to say good-bye."

"Nygma said he took him to the pier."

"Thanks. Now get out."

"Sylvia, can we please—"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Barbara quickly stood and ran out of the mansion. Victor looked after her before he turned to Sylvia once more, waiting for her to change her mind but no sound except for Sylvia's tearful continuation came.

He'd expected a torrent of emotion. Perhaps in killing Penguin, they'd really broken the Queen. Sylvia tried sit back on the couch; her uncontrollable sobbing brought her down further past the couch and she fell to the floor.

"Oh…" Victor helped her up. "Come on, Liv. Upsy-Daisy…"

He managed to put her back on the couch, but she was unresponsive to him after.

Tabitha waited outside with the rest of their minions, pacing back and forth. She considered storming inside when she heard Sylvia's furious shrieks until the door opened; exiting was Barbara, who looked shaken, but otherwise healthy and—more importantly—alive.

"So?" Tabitha said expectedly.

"She gave it up." Barbara quipped.

They headed back to the cars. Tabitha sat in the passenger seat, peering inquisitively at Barbara, who took the wheel. Driving back to the Sirens, it was a little too silent for her taste.

"What's wrong?" Tabitha asked.

Barbara glanced at her, feigning nonchalance: "What? Nothing's wrong."

"You seem annoyed."

"Of course, I'm annoyed."

"Why?" Tabitha questioned. "That went better than we expected. I thought we'd have to threaten her—"

"—I know. Me too."

Tabitha shook her head, saying, "She made it easier on us, then. Even better. So, why are you so irritated?"

Barbara nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip in pressing thought. Once they were at a stop light, she said darkly, "Lark just fully submitted and literally handed us her and Penguin's authority on a silver platter without even trying to defend her territory. She didn't even care that I left her crew alive."

Tabitha shrugged: "Who knew taking Penguin out would break her resolve. Want my opinion? We should've done that a long time ago. That's a good thing."

Barbara sighed irately. Her small huff struck a reproachful chord in Tabitha; she glanced at the driver uncertainly.

"I was just expecting more fight." Barbara explained unhappily.

"She seemed full of fight when I left."

"Yeah, but…"

Tabitha sighed patiently, "You feel bad. Is that it?"

"Of course, I do! She's my friend."

"Not to be a bummer, but I think your friendship is over."

"I tried pointing out that Nygma killed Penguin but that didn't go over too well either," said Barbara sadly. "Like, everything from not killing Paddock's old crew to keeping her assets alive was all a clever plan to convince her to be our mediator between us and the common denominator."

Tabitha leaned back in her seat, picking at her fingernails.

Lazily, she said, "She wouldn't have followed you, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's said it once before. Lark doesn't follow anyone's orders other than Penguin's. If you ever wanted something from her, you had to go through Penguin first. At least, that's what she told my brother right before we showed him how we had his mother in our playpen. Seemed to make her more cooperative."

"The only person she cared about is dead now. I don't think we have that leverage."

"She has that brat of hers. What's her name…" Tabitha snapped her fingers, trying to recall.

"She's already surrendered the Underworld." Barbara said sympathetically. "The Queen's been dethroned. No need to hurt her anymore than we have already."

"You think she'll come back for it all?"

"I'll be surprised if she comes back from this."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a back-up plan in any case she does."

"I hear you, Tabby. But you didn't see her in there. I've never seen her so…broken. I've never seen her like that ever."

"Maybe it was an act."

"No. I don't think so. I don't think she'll be causing much trouble. The only thing I am concerned about is whether those people who followed her will try to avenge their fallen heroine."

"We could always prevent the uprising: Kill them all."

"We'll approach that as it comes," Barbara decided softly. "I still have hope of her agreeing to our deal."

"Your deal. Given the option, I'd rather her just step down—altogether."

"She's still someone in this town. She deserves to stay that way. But hey: maybe if enough things happen around her, something is bound to light a fire under her. If she doesn't do anything, her club will lose revenue without her involvement—eventually get bought out by a new manager; her crew will eventually disperse to join gangs whose leaders aren't grieving or be taken apart by gangs who had a vendetta against the Paddock Crime Family in general; eventually, she'll come around. The deal will still be on the table when she does."

"I wouldn't let her mood ruin ours though."

"I'm not."

"Are you sure?" Tabitha said encouragingly.

"The Queen is dead," Barbara said with a small smile, which evolved into a sly one as she spoke. "It's our time to rule. And it's our turn to show Gotham how it's done."

Tabitha said coolly, "That's more like it. Just remember you owe me Nygma's life now, seeing as we no longer need him anymore."

Barbara nodded: "In time, sweetie."

Tabitha heard her half-promise but seeing as they had left the Van Dahl mansion with everyone they'd arrived with as well as the key to the kingdom, she spared Barbara in her request for a more committed response.

Lark and Penguin were dethroned. Long Live Tabitha Galavan and Barbara Kean.

Author's Note: Not to worry. Sequel is under way It'll be called 'If I Never Knew You'. First chapter to be posted before or by the end of the week! Love you guys who've been with me from the beginning, and welcome to those who've just come on board. I'll see you in the next sequel! xoxox