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penguinraisedbypenguins · 7 years

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Save Me Once More

In which Oswald finds himself, once again, at the Gotham docks. Finally, he and Ed are alone and able to reach a resolution. (I stayed up late to finish this and didn’t edit but I thought this might be a satisfying turn for the finale...)

The history he had with the Gotham docks was a long and painful one. Any trip here always seemed to end in tragedy. Oswald didn’t doubt this day would end with a death,his or someone else’s. Either way the dock would claim its victim.

“Penguin,” through the haze of memories Edward’s voice finally reached his ears, a low growl. That gravel in his throat meant to intimidate any person who dared to stand between the Riddler and his wants. “For Tetch,” Ed continued, moving the gun he was aiming at Oswald slowly to point at Jervis.

The Hatter smiled at the sound of his name and looked fondly up at Ed, “You’d trade me away for that little bird? Why that’s the silliest thing I’ve heard!”

Ed grit his teeth, eyes traveling towards the warehouse ceiling in irritation. This only made Jervis laugh and dance on his heels. The grenade bounced dangerously around his neck.

“You love riddles and I love rhymes. Some would say we’re two of a kind!” he giggled, flashing yellowed teeth.

“Enough!” Ed cried out, causing Jervis to shrink back, hands held up to his mouth trying to hold in the laughter.

“What do you want Penguin for anyway, Ed?” Jim asked, fingers flitting nervously on the gun held by his side.

“Aw come on, Jim. Why do you care? He’s willing to give us Tetch, let’s go,” said Harvey, spreading his arms incredulously. Oswald glared at the current commissioner, a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. But Ed spoke before he had the chance.

“Harvey,” he said, one hand placed fondly against the green suit, over his heart, “Oswald and I have unfinished business. In fact it’s quite personal, so I suggest you take this,” he jabbed the gun at Tetch, “nuisance and leave us alone.”

Jim looked from Oswald back to Ed, a grimace resting on his lips, “Fine.”

The pang of betrayal hit Oswald. Even though he knew Ed wasn’t going to hurt him anymore, the fact that Jim Gordon was never his friend reached the small, tender spot he had left in his heart. It hurt every time the man gave him up. Jim nudged him forward, a hand flat against his back.

Ed pointed his gun at Jervis, “Walk.”

“Sorry, Oswald,” Jim said, looking at Oswald with a furrowed brow. Oswald heard the gilt in his voice and sniffed, standing as tall as he could manage. “I’m used to it by now, Jim,” he said, hobbling towards Ed.

Suddenly a gunshot echoed through the warehouse. Automatically, Oswald ducked as did the other men, Jervis laughing nervously.

“Hey, losers!” a voice cried out.

Oswald looked up through his arms shielding his head. Babs was sauntering into the warehouse followed by Butch and Tabitha.

“Sorry we’re late,” she said, eyes wide and hungry.

Ed’s face fell, “Oh crud.”

“Shit,” said Jim.

“RUN!” Harvey yelled.

And they did. Jim grabbed Jervis by the arm and dragged him towards the open door of the warehouse. Harvey followed close behind, one hand holding his hat down as gunfire erupted behind them. Oswald turned on his heel and took off in the other direction.

“Oswald!” he heard Ed calling after him. But there was no time to slow down. He would not be a victim of the docks, not again.

“Come back here you freaks!” Tabitha yelled, firing angrily in their direction.

Ignoring the sound of bullets, Oswald splashed through puddles in a straight line through the warehouse. He could hear Ed’s footsteps a ways behind him.

“Forget about them!” Barbara was shouting, “We’ll catch up to them later.”

Oswald stumbled on the worn concrete, swerved to the left, and collapsed behind one of the large pillars holding up the warehouse roof. Leaning his head back to rest, he clutch his chest. His heart was pounding in his ears. He waited a few moments, making sure Barbara and her little gang had really given up the chase. Oswald leaned out from behind the pillar on his hands and knees, looking down towards the front of the warehouse. About five pillars down he saw Ed standing up doing the same. Their eyes met, and Oswald was reminded of Fish Mooney’s words. Forgiveness does not make you weak. Something exploded outside, causing the warehouse’s foundation to tremble. The grenade Oswald realized, eyes widening. He looked up, watching pieces of the roof begin to come loose and smash to the ground. Then he was running again, hoping Ed was right behind him. He cursed under his breath at the pain in his leg. Closing his eyes, he pressed forward. He heard the warehouse collapse, then silence. When Oswald opened his eyes he was at the edge of the dock, calm water reflecting his hobbled form back at him. Why did he always end up here? Maybe he was supposed to be killed by Jim Gordon that day, and the docks had been trying to claim him ever since. A shadow appeared behind him in the reflection. Oswald spun around too quickly, loosing his balance and nearly slipping off the dock. Gloved hands caught him by the lapels of his jacket, pulled him close, a bright green fabric enveloping him. Oswald’s breath caught in his throat as he realized Ed was holding him. With shaking hands, he moved his arms around the other man’s middle, hugging him tight. Resisting the urge to bury his face in Ed’s chest was difficult. It was hard to admit, but he had missed being this close. Ed’s head was resting on his shoulder, and he could hear the other man’s breathing, as tired as his own.

“Ed,” Oswald said, dropping his arms as he leaned away.

Straightening his suit, Ed took a step back and cleared his throat. His brow was furrowed, but a gentle vulnerability graced his face.

“Yes Oswald?” it was a whisper.

They watched each other, eyes wandering over faces once so familiar. Oswald thought back to the night Ed found him in the woods...How Ed had saved his life and brought purpose back into his life. He missed singing together over Chinese takeout dinners, the glow of the apartment’s green sign as he lay in Ed’s bed, wearing those soft pajamas, too long for his limbs. That was just the beginning. Ed had saved his life in more ways than one, many time over. Only once did he take it from him.

Oswald straightened his jacket, standing tall, “Any last words?”

He withdrew a gun from his pocket, stowed their by Jim Gordon before he was traded to Ed for Tetch. He’d noticed there while crouching in the warehouse, watching Ed just before the bomb went off. Maybe Jim cared after all.

Ed looked hurt, not shocked or afraid, just hurt. “I thought we were over this…”

“Over this?” Oswald snarled, “Over THIS?” He waved the gun around the docks angrily, trying to capture all the pain he’d experienced at this place with a single word.

Flinching as the gun aimed at him once again, Ed struggled to find words. So many of their encounters since their last time at the docks had come down to this, staring each other down to try to quell their own heartbreaks.

Oswald swallowed, lifted his chin, “Do you even remember WHY you killed me, Ed? Do you have any clue why you continued to hunt me down like an animal after you found out I survived?”

“I…” Ed was gaping at him now, his two halves clearly struggling between past and present, “I wanted my revenge. Because you killed the woman I loved.”

The words came out robotically, like he had said the same phrase a dozen or more times. Oswald shook his head, unsatisfied.

“Who did I have killed, Ed? Who was she?”

Ed bared his teeth, his hands balled into fists at his sides, “You killed Isabelle.”

“Oh, Ed.”

Clutching his temples, Ed looked away, realizing his mistake. Oswald shook his head, a sad smirk rising to his lips.

“Her name was Isabella. And YOU would have killed her if I hadn’t.”

“No…”

“Yes!” Oswald jutted his chin forward, teeth gnashing the air, “History is always doomed to repeat itself, Ed, and you fell for a ghost.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, a low growl, hands flexing anxiously at his sides.

“You’ve been out done, old friend,” Oswald continued lips curled into a sneer, “Tricked.”

“Tricked?”

“That’s right,” Oswald found his composure, tightened his grip on the gun. The reveal was not tasting a sweet as he’d hoped. He focused on Ed’s eyes, determined to enjoy this. “You were tricked. By the Court of Owls. By Strange, that monster. They sent you Isabella to keep you DISTRACTED.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence where the horrid realization of what he had said spread across Ed’s face.

“And it worked, didn’t it?” Oswald’s lips curled against his teeth, “You chose her over me. You picked an imposter over your BEST FRIEND.”

Ed pressed his fingers against his eyes. Oswald was waiting for the explosion of anger, to still be blamed for the whole ugly situation. Inhaling sharply, Ed straightened, glared at Oswald.

“I should have figured that out,” Ed was quiet, calculated. It was frightening, “Even if what you’re telling me is true, that does not excuse your actions, Oswald.”

“But think of yours,” Oswald hissed.

“I shot you to get revenge.”

“And then you claimed you didn’t love me,” Oswald lowered the gun then, pouting despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, “But no one has ever done for me what you have, Ed. You’ve saved my life more than once… Why can’t you save me once more?”

Ed slowly lowered his hands, opened his eyes revealing tears at the edges. The anger had faded, leaving a vacant expression tinged with sadness. “How can I save you, Oswald? Looks like you’re ready to finally save yourself…”

“Tell me the truth,” Oswald whispered, swerving far from his original plan, back to the emotions he’d shut away after Ivy pulled him from the water, “Tell me what you couldn’t the last time we were here at the docks.”

Ed stood silent and still, without question or reply. Desperate to have been right about something, Oswald pressed him further.

“Say it, you coward.”

Ed opened his mouth, closed it again. His expression darkened as he inclined his head, the bowler hat casting a shadow over his eyes.

“First,” he snarled, “You call me the RIDDLER.”

Oswald stepped forward so their chests were nearly touching.

“Never,” he hissed.

Ed frowned, teeth barred. His hand found Oswald’s on the gun, making him flinch back. Instead of trying to take it away, Ed gently pushed the gun down. Oswald gazed up at the other man, mouth slightly agape. He was confused by the softness he found in Ed’s expression, eyebrows furrowed not in anger, but in uncertainty, lips pouting. As Ed’s warm breath caressed his face, Oswald’s heart beat quickened in his chest. He had tried to leave these feelings at the docks after Ed had shot him and left him for dead, but here they were, back again.

“I’m sorry,” Oswald said finally, his lip quivering, “I’m sorry I so cruelly stole away your happiness. No matter my reasons, even if I truly believed she was bad news, I should not have gone that far.”

Ed sighed, “She wasn’t my happiness Oswald, you were.”

Oswald felt his jaw drop open. He blinked furiously, working his mouth, but no words would come out. Scratching his ear nervously, Ed worked his mouth into a grimace, as if he wasn’t expecting honesty to come spilling off his tongue. He pressed his forehead to Oswald’s, took him by the chin. Oswald’s eyelashes grazed Ed’s glasses and he blushed.

“I'm sorry I killed Isabella because I was jealous…” “And I'm sorry I tried to kill you after you proved how much you loved me.” “Do you think we can just start over?” Oswald asked, his heart aching. Ed thought for a moment, “Do you like riddles?” “Wha-- no…” “Oswald...I know who you are.” Ed waited expectantly for Oswald to understand. “Then you know you're standing too close,” he replied, catching on.

They smiled at each other, for a moment transported back to that day in the GCPD. How different they both were, how unaware that their fates were so entwined. Ed took Oswald’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“You’re the only one, Oswald,” he said quietly.

“Is this another truce?” Oswald asked, lifting his head to meet Ed’s eyes.

Ed thought for a moment, “Hmm, yes, it is.”

“How long do we have?”

“A lifetime, I’d say.”

“Oh?” Oswald raised an eyebrow, “That long?”

“Well, you know I can’t concentrate when you’re trying to kill me, Oswald.”

“This isn’t going to be easy, Ed,” Oswald said, his smile faltering.

“I know. I feel...jumbled...heavy. I’ve spent so long being angry…”

Oswald grabbed him by the lapel, pulling Ed down to his level and kissed him hard on the lips. Dazed, Ed stood at a loss for words.

“I’m still angry,” Oswald admitted, “But mostly I’m sad. And mostly I miss you.”

Ed leaned down and stroked Oswald’s cheek. Kissing him softly, he caressed Oswald’s cheek with a gloved hand. Oswald closed his eyes, only slightly mad that Ed was the better kisser.

“I miss you, too,” Ed murmured, straightening to his full height, green suit shimmering.

“Can we finally talk?’ asked Oswald, “Instead of trying to kill each other?”

“We already agreed on that truce.”

“Then let’s talk...” Oswald looked behind him at the water, “Somewhere less morbid.”

Ed chuckled, holding his hand a little tighter. Nothing was fixed, not yet, but it was a start. They walked away from docks, hand in hand, finally beginning to leave the past behind them. Oswald glanced back only once, to make sure the docks hadn’t claimed him, that his life was for once improved by their waters. He felt something cover his head and turned to Ed, who had removed his bowler hat and placed it on Oswald.

“I apologize for stealing your hat,” he said.

Oswald reached up and straightened it, “It looks better on me and you know it.”

First they would talk, for as long as was needed. Gotham could wait. There were plenty of heroes to fix this virus business. But then they would reclaim their power. It was time for the kings of Gotham City to rise. Together.

#gotham #nygmobblepot #fan fiction #gotham fan fic #Oswald Cobblepot #the penguin #edward nygma #the riddler #jervis tetch #the mad hatter #jim gordon #harvey bullock #fish mooney #barbara kean #tabitha galavan #butch gilzean #writing #season 3

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