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Chapter Text

"Shall we get to work?" Edward couldn't stop smiling at his once again best friend. 

His body was still trembling slightly from the adrenaline rush, caused by their almost fatal embrace. For a minute there Ed thought he was really going to have to kill Oswald. It was safer this way. Friendship, just like love, was a weakness and ended with betrayal anyway. He saw and felt Oswald's dagger and was sure that he'd feel a sharp pain in a few seconds. Killing Riddler was safer for Penguin as well. They both were too dangerous to each other. 

Might as well do it first and get this over with. Survive by stabbing his friend first. It was a logical thing to do. 

He couldn't do it. And Riddler in him just didn't wish to. He didn't want safety or boredom. Their relationship with Penguin always was and will be anything but. Now Ed wasn't even sure that he would've reciprocated if his own heart was stabbed. Thankfully, it didn't. He was only pulled closer to his friend's chest as they relaxed, safe. They both took a leap of faith and survived. 

Ed still couldn't believe that Oswald trusted him so much and fully accepted him yet again. Even after his speech about taking Gotham for himself, Penguin still found it in him to share his personal claim on this city with Riddler. Fascinating. 

Truly remarkable that such a ruthless man is the only person who still showed trust and forgiveness despite knowing Riddler at his worst. Nobody else did. Even Lee, a good person at her core, stabbed Ed when she had no more use for his skills and didn't want to risk the danger he posed. Oswald was the only one who always stayed by his side even when Edward didn't deserve his loyalty. It feels incredible to have such a friend.

Oswald smiled and nodded, his one healthy eye shining with joy. "We shall, Ed. But first, let's have a drink. This was a very long day, and I think I saw a few bottles of wine here somewhere." 

"And here I thought I could hide alcohol from you," Edward joked. "However, before that, we need to change your bandages. And first thing tomorrow I'm taking you to Lee." 

Oswald frowned and opened his mouth to protest so Ed quickly interrupted his attempts: " No Oswald, don't even try to talk your way out of it. I don't like it any more than you do, but she is the most competent doctor currently left in this hellhole. I'm not risking your life again, you need professional treatment." 

Penguin tried to put in a few words again, but Ed will have none of that. " And I already made her promise to help you. At the very least as payment for you saving her life after our… parting. She owes it to you for that. Also for your help against Bane."

He took Oswald's resigned sigh as an agreement and went to the bathroom. He thoroughly washed his hands and paused in front of the mirror, bracing himself for the gruesome image of Oswald's injury, for which he still blamed himself. In all the time he worked as a forensic scientist Edward never thought of any crime scene as too gruesome or at least mildly disturbing. He found them fascinating and always studied each gory trauma with gleeful curiosity, eager to solve their puzzles. 

This was different. Even the memory of thick blood leaking from Oswald's ravaged eye raised bile to his throat. Chopping up Miss Kringle's body didn't have that effect on Ed. Isabella's mangled corpse didn't cause his insides to turn. Nothing else did, actually. It's probably a good thing that they haven't eaten anything since the morning. He took a deep breath, filled the glass with water, gathered first aid kit, and left after one last glance at his reflection.

Edward returned to the view of Oswald sitting on the green mattress substituting for a bed. The fearsome Penguin was cradling his bulldog in his arms like a newborn baby. 

"My brave boy, you've fought your way from the clutches of that vicious witch, didn't you Edward? I'm so very proud of you," he cooed and pressed a gentle kiss on top of the dog's head. Ed shook his head in disbelief. How can Oswald be so loving and sweet toward that drooling mutt? Which was sharing his name of all people. That troubled him on some deep level he still refused to analyze. 

Oswald, oblivious to Ed's presence, hugged the dog tighter and murmured tenderly: "I'm so happy you're safe. I love you, Edward." 

Ed sharply inhaled at those words. Why did they cause piercing pain in his chest all of a sudden? He frowned and took a moment to compartmentalize his body's reactions like he usually did. 

Physically it felt like someone drove a long thin needle through his heart. Painful and unexpected. That's weird. 

Emotionally the feeling was akin to a longing or a heartbreak. Ed knew both of those very well, having felt one with Miss Kringle and the other with Isabella. Lee was both in some sense, but mostly she was just disappointment. But why did those feelings resurface now, after hearing Oswald say those words to the other Edward? 

Perhaps they stirred some bad memories from the time he heard Oswald say those words to him? Maybe they caused him to remember the hurt after losing Isabella? No, that's unlikely. Strangely enough, he never really missed her as much as he expected. Or was expected to. Even that blazing obsession with revenge on Oswald was mainly based on Edward's anger at his best friend's betrayal rather than the painful loss of his beloved girlfriend. 

Why then? Interesting. Ed made a mental note to analyze it more thoroughly later. He softly cleared his throat to announce his return.

"Oh, Ed, you're here." Oswald looked startled and… was that a blush on his cheeks or just a firelight illumination? How curious. He quickly but gently put the dog on the floor, straightening in his seat. "I want to thank you again for bringing Edward back from the docks unharmed. I don't know what I would've done if that wench took him away too."

"No problem," Ed smiled. 

Oh, but it was a problem when he thought that Nyssa took the mutt with the submarine and the treasure. He went to the docks alone to secure the place with traps he didn't have time to set before - Oswald was left to rest at the library - and was shocked to see their sub gone. Ed was seriously considering running away and hiding from Penguin's wrath if the dog was lost because of him. But even more than Oswald's rage Edward would hate to be the source of his disappointment. After all, the dog was supposed to be safe with 'the man in green' according to his friend. He had never been happier to hear the gruff barking of an overweight bulldog before this evening on the docks. 

"Drink this. It's not enough for this kind of injury, but it will numb the pain a bit." He passed two pills of Percocet and a glass of water to Penguin. He took them without a fuss which means his pain is close to unbearable. 

Ed sat beside him and opened the first aid kit. He carefully removed the bandage and the bloodied handkerchief; Oswald winced from the pain but didn't voice his discomfort. Gory mess became visible. Ed suppressed a shudder and willed his hands to stop shaking. To do this properly, he needed to distance himself emotionally from his patient. Right . There, it's just a patient in front of him, not his best (and only) friend, who probably lost an eye saving him from a grenade. Damn it. 

Then just think of this as our first opportunity to start repaying for Oswald's sacrifice , Riddler's steady voice inside his head suggested. Ed subtly nodded to himself, took a deep breath, and put latex gloves on. 

He soaked a cotton swab with peroxide and very carefully started cleaning dried blood from Oswald's cheek and around his eye, not daring to touch the wound itself; it's better left undisturbed until tomorrow. At least it stopped bleeding. Ed thought he still saw some shrapnel in there. No way to say for sure without proper lighting: you can see only so much with candles and fireplace. And he wouldn't risk removing them without at least an adequate anesthetic anyway. 

Lee promised to get all the necessary medication from the military by the morning. Let's hope she won't mix personal feelings toward Penguin and me with professional help, he heard Riddler's voice full of disdain. Edward was about eighty-seven percent sure she wouldn't.

Oswald's endurance was astonishing. Ed knew that this was agonizingly painful for the man when he involuntarily pulled at the skin with dried blood on it, bothering the injury. But the only signs of his suffering were occasional quiet whimpers, strained muscles of his jaw, white knuckles when he braced the edge of the seat too hard and a few silent tears, spilling from his healthy eye. Oswald's whole body was taut, eye focused on one spot above Edward's shoulder, breath deep and deliberate. It took several minutes to clear his skin around the wound.

"There, clean as a whistle. Hold this right here please," Ed waited for Oswald's shaky hand to hold the edge of a fresh folded gauze against his wound. "Tell me if it's too tight." With swift, practiced motions, Ed wrapped a new bandage around his friend's head. His hand lingered in soft black hair a few moments longer than necessary, almost caressing to comfort them both. 

"You did excellent Oswald. But I wouldn't advise mixing alcohol with painkillers, it -... "

"Ed, with that amount of pain I need to either have a good drink or kill somebody. Seeing how you're the only other person here, I have just one viable option," Oswald gritted through his teeth, swiftly wiping remaining tears from his eye. 

"Okie-Dokie. Then relax and let me fetch that drink."

"Thank you, Ed. For everything," he murmured, much more softly now. Ed decided against voicing all the reasons Oswald should not be thanking him and instead just gave a small smile with a nod of acknowledgment. He cleaned up the mess, threw bloody gauzes and his latex gloves in the trash and packed first aid kit back. Then went to fetch the wine, two glasses and last pack of cheese crackers. They'll need to find some food tomorrow: all their sparse reserves of canned food gone with the sub.

When he returned, Oswald was visibly more relaxed, stiffness of his posture gone, breathing calm and steady. The dog was resting at his feet. As he heard steps, he looked up, smiled at Ed with gratitude, and took both glasses while Ed poured the wine and opened crackers. 

"To the new beginnings!" Oswald proposed the first toast as they sat so close that their knees were almost touching. 

They drank to new beginnings, to old and future victories, to their continued partnership, to Nyssa al Ghul blowing up on one of the mines and sinking with their sub and their gold, to Iceberg Lounge and Riddle Factory rebuilt, to restoring Penguin's empire and instilling fear of the Riddler into the hearts of Gotham's citizens. 

Ed tried to take smaller sips, he was not as practiced with drinking as Oswald. At the end of the second bottle, they both were equally tipsy and relaxed, cheese crackers long gone. Ed sat cross-legged on the mattress while Oswald pulled his left leg under him to better face him; both men's suit jackets, vests, and shoes discarded.

With that amount of alcohol, it became even more evident how hungry they both were. The fact was further confirmed by the grumbling of Oswald's empty belly. He frowned and gave it an accusing glare, which Ed found adorably hilarious.

"A ham sandwich walks into a bar and orders a beer. What did the bartender say?" he asked out of nowhere and barely contained laughter at Oswald's dumbfounded look. 

It took his friend a few moments to even comprehend what was asked of him. 

"I literally have no id-"

"Sorry we don't serve food here," Ed answered gleefully without letting him finish. 

Apparently, a simple eye-roll wasn't enough to convey his frustration, so Oswald actually rolled his whole head with an exaggerated deep sigh. " Seriously , Ed? You went from riddles to bad jokes now?" he asked with a put-on grimace. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" he lamented. 

Ed giggled. "Jokes can be riddles if you think how to interpret them," he remarked with forefinger pointing upwards and smug know-it-all look on his face. "Like this one. What did the scientist get when he crossed a chicken and a cow?"

"I'm not gonna even attempt to dignify this with an answer," Oswald's feigned resentment was betrayed by an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Roost beef!" Ed's cheeks started to hurt from the wide grin he couldn't contain. Oswald gave him his trademark eye-roll but soon gave up his facade and laughed. Ed gladly joined him and then promised: "That's what I'll cook for us when I get the chance." Those words caused the other man to lick his lips and gulp.

"In that case, I might even forgive you these terrible jokes," Oswald shook his head, still smiling. "But now you'd better stop teasing me with food images before I choke on my own saliva."

"Oooh, wouldn't that be a fascinating sight," Ed giggled and got a playful jab to the knee.

It was very nice to sit with Oswald like this. It reminded Ed about the simpler times when their friendship had just begun, and they both lived in his apartment lit by green neon, drinking cheap wine and eating Chinese takeout, joking and talking all through the night sometimes. It almost felt like they were back there again, without physical and emotional scars they gave each other throughout the last few years. 

During the months of building the sub, they became good friends again, but there was still some level of apprehension and occasional tension between them. Plus they didn't have much time to rest and talk between building the sub and trying to stay safe. 

Now, after they've survived the war and the pact, Ed felt that they finally broke free from heavy shackles of their hurtful past. Both men have learned from it and moved on. At long last, they were able to just enjoy each other's company with nothing in their way. 

They went from toasts and jokes to mulling over at least the first steps on their way to the top of Gotham's power.

"It's going to be particularly challenging this time, Ed. Taking over the underworld was never a walk in the park, but at least there was an organized crime to take over. Now that all systems and families had crumbled, even a simple task to find a trusted henchman became near impossible," he huffed a humorless chuckle. "You know, sometimes I miss the time when I had people like Gabe and Butch by my side. Brainless apes they were but loyalty was not a foreign concept for them. These days, not even money can keep people on the leash."

"But you killed them both anyway."

"Yes I did, no need to remind me, Ed," Oswald muttered, frowning. "Gabe paid for his betrayal and Butch…" He sighed, seeming almost regretful for a moment. "Well, in hindsight, maybe killing Butch was not such a wise decision in the long run. Felt too satisfying at the time, though." 

"Why did you kill him? I guessed it was your way to get back at Tabitha, correct?"

"Revenge on Tabitha was the main reason to do it, yes. She took someone I love. Of course, I had to return the favor, and it was long overdue. Now my beloved mother can finally rest in peace, her death fully avenged," Oswald seemed forlorn, as always when he had to recall Gertrude's untimely demise.

"It was not the only thing, though. Butch was useful, and I considered him a friend, sort of. Perhaps I would've thought of some other way to punish Tabitha properly," he took a sip of wine. "But his involvement in my mother's murder, piled up with his other numerous attempts at turning on me, however reasonable they were, could no longer go unpunished. Alas, betraying and throwing you to the wolves, for Sofia Falcone to torture and kill, was the last straw," he shrugged, no longer looking bothered by the loss of his trusted henchman. 

Well, that was definitely a piece of new information for Ed. He didn't even consider taking his own revenge against Butch for that. Probably because his thoughts at the time were too preoccupied with his failure of a romance with Lee. 

"Thank you, Oswald. I didn't know you still cared, not after my less than honorable actions in the bank. Sorry again, that was uncalled for." Oswald nodded his acceptance of the apology.

"Well, I intended to tell you the news about Butch when I went to check if you were safe after the bridges blew and propose an alliance, perhaps. Yes, I was still mad at you about the bank, but mostly I was angry at the Doc for manipulating you in such a cruel way," a scowl full of disdain twisted his features for a second. "That's how I found out that you went all Romeo and Juliet on each other. Thankfully you both were unconscious and not dead yet, just slowly bleeding out on the floor. Strange was the only doctor available to me at that time, unfortunately," he gave a sympathetic smile. 

"You saved my life, Oswald, guess I really can't complain. But I was meaning to ask, why didn't you find me after Strange fixed us? I don't even know what happened and how; I presume I was being controlled at the time," Ed frowned at the memory of waking up alone on the cold street near the library, which he later turned into his personal hideout. 

Oswald seemed tense and a little uneasy as he contemplated his answer. Ed knew that even with more than a full bottle of wine in his system Penguin would still be too careful with his words and not sincere enough. This conversation required a different approach. Oswald is a businessman at his heart, he believes in fair exchange. This might work. 

"Hey, I've got an idea. Let's play a game!" Riddler exclaimed and eagerly clasped his hands. "We ask each other a question and answer as honestly and elaborate as possible. Whoever refuses to answer - loses. The winner gets to ask the loser for anything, and he has to comply. Of course, the request should be doable. What do you say? "Ed smiled with barely contained excitement. 

Oswald looked at him apprehensively for a few moments but then conceded and chuckled. "You and your games, Riddler. Alright. Even though it's not much of a game but I would also prefer to get the full picture. I'll even answer your question first," he sighed and continued. 

"When Strange finished working, I had both Lee, and you brought to a temporary residence while I was busy preparing the City Hall and ammo factory as my main bases of operation. You both were unconscious for almost a week and then just disappeared. My people didn't try to stop you because you were not my prisoners. When you just left without saying a word, I assumed you made up with the Doc and ran away together," Oswald sighed. 

"Despite my anger and disappointment, I decided to try and find you. It was a war zone after all, and you were unarmed as far as I could tell. There had been no traces of you on my territory or even beyond it, and eventually, I stopped looking. I knew that you would be nearly impossible to track if you wanted to stay hidden," Penguin paused to sip his wine. "Now I wish I'd continued the search but can't change the past."

So his friend refused to give up on Ed that easily. Still did ultimately but who wouldn't in his place? "You did everything you could, Oswald. Damn, it really looked like I was an ungrateful bastard, didn't it. Even pointed a gun at you and almost pulled the trigger after everything you've done for me," he frowned. Waves of guilt washed over Ed again as he recalled their tense reunion. The last thing he expected was for Oswald to laugh. 

"It's not a big problem, Ed, really, I forgive you. There was hardly a day when somebody didn't point a gun or some other weapon at me. You didn't shoot, and that is what matters in the end," easy forgiveness from Penguin was also something Ed didn't expect. "My turn to ask now. What happened after Haven had exploded? Why did you remember those words about me fixing you only then?" 

Ed told him everything that happened since that morning when he woke up with a clue written on his palm. His investigation with Foxy and the following events, however humiliating it was to recall them. Edward had to follow the rules of his own game.

"That's not funny!" he playfully chastised Oswald when he snorted at Ed being captured and tortured by a crazy family of dog-lovers. 

"Oh but it is, Ed! What's with all the simpletons trying to kill you? First, an old lady in a wheelchair, then those hillbillies?" he was giggling and barely restraining from full cackling. Ed decided he wanted to hear his friend laugh, so he continued with a put-on pout. 

"She said I had to die for killing their dog, said their Jojo always had a smile on his face!" Oswald burst with laughter. Ed was glad to be the cause of that. "Such utter nonsense, dogs are anatomically incapable of smiling," he muttered.

Penguin slightly frowned, confused, but still smiling.

"Umm, yes they are," he reached his hand and scratched behind his bulldog's ear. "Edward, sweetie, don't worry, he didn't mean that. My good boy, show Ed here how adorably you can smile." 

The bulldog's gaze traveled from Oswald to Ed. The animal was loudly panting with its tongue out and wagging its stubby tail. The mutt looked content and comfortable, but there's no way you could call this expression a smile. Right? Although corners of the dog's mouth did stretch upwards just like a human being's would when they smile… And dark eyes glistened merrily, similar to Oswald's own right now... Well, there would be no talking Oswald out of this particular delusion, so better to just let him have it. 

"Nevermind," Ed sighed and shook his head at Oswald's victorious smirk. "Anyway, electrical jolts did something to the chip in my brain, and I remembered some fragments of being under its control and before it, while I was barely conscious. Terrible misunderstanding of your words. You know the rest," he paused to sip wine. 

The dog gave happy grumbling as Oswald scratched behind its ears. "So Oswald, I know I asked this before, but your answer wasn't especially convincing. Did you name your dog after me, or was it indeed just a coincidence?"

"Yes. It's the answer to both. I didn't lie to you before, it was a coincidence, but he has your name, not just any other Edward's." 

"You have to elaborate on that Oswald, remember the rules," he had to remind after it became clear that there was no more information coming. 

Oswald released a deep melodramatic sigh. "Very well, I suppose. When I said I was looking for you after you disappeared, I didn't mean that I only sent my people to find you. I was personally involved whenever it was possible between organizing my workers, obtaining more help, and pretending to be locked up in City Hall for the sake of vengeful Tabby's prolonged suffering. One of those times, I was passing a vet clinic and heard a noise coming from inside. I called your name. And then this little beauty appeared," he tenderly petted the dog's head and got his fingers licked in response.

"He had a bandage around one of his legs," he continued. Perhaps that's why Oswald was carrying his dog so often despite all its legs being perfectly healthy now. "He was probably left there by his former caretakers. The poor baby boy was so sad, lost, and scared, I couldn't leave him alone. So I took him with me. And since he answered the name Edward, I continued calling him that."

Seems reasonable enough, no matter how weird. But there was still one glaring issue at hand.

"Oswald… You do realize that your dog is a female, don't you?" Ed asked carefully: who knows what other delusions about canine anatomy his friend has.

"Of course I know that, Ed! I'm not stupid; I'm aware of what parts of the body are different for males and females. Still, that does not mean I can't call my anatomically female dog 'my good boy Edward '," he mischievously smirked when Ed cringed at those words. "That gave me an idea for my next question. Why does it bother you, really?" 

That was a tough question. Ed supposed he could answer with something like 'it is demeaning, embarrassing and humiliating to be associated with a drooling fat bulldog' or 'it's inconvenient to have two Edwards in the same room.' But while all of it was not a total lie per se, it wasn't a complete truth either, so it would be cheating. And Edward Nygma does not cheat, ever. There was no other way but telling the truth. 

"I don't know Oswald," he admitted quietly. Those words were so uncommon for him, even speaking them felt unnatural. 

"That's not really an answer, Ed," he chuckled. 

"But that's the most truthful one I have. I'm not even sure I'm too bothered by the fact, now that I think about it." 

Ed decided against confessing that he actually found it pretty flattering that Oswald craved his company so much that he had to fill the void with another trusted Edward friend. Even though his means were unconventional, to say the least. It was rather lovely, really. Now that Ed learned the whole truth, he concluded that he actually liked that. 

But Oswald didn't need to know that; he didn't ask how Ed felt about it, he just assumed that Ed was bothered. Finding loopholes wasn't cheating so this omission was alright. Still, he decided to go easy on Oswald. "Fine, since you didn't get a proper answer, I'll allow you to ask the next one out of turn," Ed refilled their glasses, the second bottle stood empty on the floor now.

Penguin pondered his next question and asked it with a sly smile, "Why did you really stay in Gotham?" Oh dear, that question. "I know the sub doesn't need two people to operate it. You wouldn't tolerate such a flaw in the system. And Nyssa had confirmed it unless she managed to clone herself with limited resources and time which is highly unlikely," he averted his gaze for a moment and frowned. 

That was odd. Why did Oswald even bring up clones - of all crazy things - as an option? It didn't seem random, more like a slip of the tongue. But human cloning was impossible. Right? Was Oswald not telling him something? However, he quickly continued before Ed could interject and ask him to elaborate. Ed made a mental note to question his friend about this some other time. "Besides that, just a little while ago you said that you didn't care about Gotham. So that excuse about the city was hollow as well. Why then?" he asked and sipped his wine with a triumphant grin. 

Oh Oswald, Oswald. He knew the answer to his question. He knew perfectly well that Ed had stayed only for him. Not for Gotham and its people or revenge against Bane and Nyssa. This morning on that fateful pier Edward understood with clarity that he would have never forgiven himself if he had run away and Oswald died in that fight, all alone among the enemies. There would be no peace of mind, no happiness, no forgiveness for him after that. Ed couldn't lose his best friend again. 

The bulldog didn't help either with his (her? Its?) nonstop whining and grunting after Oswald left them. Besides, Ed didn't even know what to do once he got out of Gotham. He had planned to decide their next steps with Oswald and hoped their paths on the mainland wouldn't diverge too much. 

So yes, Ed stayed to fight only for his friend. But if Riddler said it out loud, it would show his vulnerability and weakness, give voice to the extent of control Penguin has over him.

Alas, Oswald knew him too well; he was the only one who could always predict what would the Riddler do. It was equally terrifying and thrilling. Too dangerous and too enticing at the same time. Just like the man himself. Absolutely fascinating. Oh well, Oswald also was the only person Ed didn't mind losing to. Trust Oswald to beat him at his own game, as always. Ed returned his smile and nodded. 

"I refuse to answer that question, Oswald," strangely, it didn't feel wrong to just admit his defeat so easily. Not the sentiment he's used to.

"Then I believe I'm victorious," Oswald proclaimed cheerfully; he didn't bother pretending to be surprised. "But don't worry Ed, I won't make you do anything you would be too opposed to doing on your own," he added. Ed knew he could trust him with that, they were friends enough to respect each other. 

"Fine, cheers to your victory then," he raised his glass, smiling at Oswald's joyful mood. Edward was pleased to see his friend distracted from the pain and troubles of today. They clinked glasses and finished their drinks. "It's getting late, we should get some sleep. Lee will be waiting for us early in the morning."

"You're telling me that after this hell of a day you won't even let me sleep in? How typical of you, morning people," Oswald groused mirthfully and sighed. "We're out of wine anyway. I'm gonna take a shower, I think I can still taste the dust and gunpowder," he stood up with a grunt and started limping toward the bathroom.

"Try not to get too much water on your bandage. I'll bring you a towel and some clothes," Oswald glanced back and nodded with a small smile. 

"Oh, and what's at least six inches long, goes in your mouth, and is more fun if it vibrates?" Ed asked, casually.

Oswald abruptly halted and slowly turned to him. He had probably the most scandalized expression Riddler had ever seen on him, face beet-red. He opened and closed mouth a few times, more fish than a penguin. Then his initial shock was replaced by outrage. "What are you-…"

Ed burst into laughter and hurried to interrupt Penguin's furious tirade. "Toothbrush! It's a toothbrush, Oswald. You can find a spare one in the cupboard above the sink," he managed through his giggles. "Wait, what did you think the answer was?"

Oswald's wrath turned into embarrassment, which he failed to hide behind irritation. "Do not test my patience, Riddler. I knew the right answer, I was just confused by your snickers!"

"Of course you knew! And confusion is known to cause such a deep blush," his thick sarcasm and shit-eating grin earned him a frustrated growl from Penguin and a small cushion thrown into his face. 

"Shut up, or I'll use my victory to demand an explanation for the mirror above your toilet," Oswald snarked back, smirking impishly. 

"That's simple: I didn't install it," Ed shrugged. 

"Yet you never removed it either." 

"Well..."

"Exactly!" Penguin huffed, looking awfully smug for getting the upper hand. 

Ed pursed his lips and wanted to retort something, but Oswald was already limping into the bathroom, a smile tugging at his lips. Ed could only shake his head and let the man have it this time, he'll find a chance to get back at him later. Friendly banter with Penguin never gets old. 

Soon Edward heard water being turned on. He ruffled through a few of his belongings stored in a dresser and got a fresh towel and clean clothes for Oswald, then placed them on the edge of the sink in the bathroom. He couldn't help but smile when he heard Oswald humming some vaguely familiar cheerful melody quietly. 

Ed glanced at the steam rising atop the shower curtain and suddenly felt the yearning to join Oswald under the hot water. Wait, what? Where did that thought come from? Ed shook his head to chase weird desires away. It's probably just because he also wanted to shower after a long and hard day, Edward reasoned. Nothing more. He quickly left the bathroom.

He added more wood to the fireplace. He knew how cold Oswald always got at night and how much it affected his injured leg, which was probably killing him now after a day like this. Ed then realized a slight problem: he didn't even have an actual bed here. The mattress he used to sleep on was the only suitable soft horizontal surface. Obviously, he will insist Oswald take it, any other option with the man's injuries - old and new - would be just plain cruel. 

While he contemplated sleeping on the floor or in one of the armchairs, Oswald emerged from the bathroom. Raven black hair was noticeably ruffled with a towel but still damp and slightly dipping water. Edward's grey t-shirt and sweatpants were hanging loosely on Oswald's thin frame. Ed was instantly reminded of the scrawny wounded bird he nurtured back to health in his apartment all those years ago. Penguin was looking probably even more vulnerable now, with a bandage over his head and tired slouch of his shoulders. Ed wanted to wrap him in his arms, plant a kiss onto the mop of black hair, protect him from the cold, cruel world, keep him warm and safe. No, wait, stop it! He didn't want to kiss his friend. That's not what friends do, right? Right. Just ignore that thought and move on.

Ed realized he was staring at Oswald for quite some time now, and the man was starting to look uneasy under his gaze. Ed quickly took his own clean clothes and retreated to the bathroom before doing or saying something inappropriate. 

Chapter Text

The hot water somewhat helped Edward clear his mind and focus on thoroughly analyzing his thoughts and feelings. 

Alright, first of all, by this point he had to admit to himself that he cared for Oswald. A lot. So much as to risk his own life and fight his wars. It was rather inconvenient but not unexpected: Oswald was his best friend after all. Friends care about each other; it's normal. 

Although it didn't explain his unwelcome impulses to hug or kiss his friend, which were arising more often as the weeks passed by alongside Oswald. Ed even had to stop himself from staring at Penguin's well-shaped backside a few times, embarrassed by his own body's betrayal. He scolded himself for those moments and had to write them off as effects of stress, hard work, and a long time since he was intimately close with another human being. His body was simply touch-starved, that's all. 

But what if it wasn't just that, hypothetically? After all, Ed didn't have those passions toward other people. Not even to Lee when he met her; not a single sensual thought flashed in his mind at the sight of the woman he once desired. Why then? Was Edward attracted to his friend? But that doesn't make any sense. He doesn't like Oswald in that way, does he?... He can't...

Then it hit him. Suddenly and very hard. Ed almost lost his footing when it all came crashing down on him. What if it wasn't only physical attraction? What if he had romantic feelings toward Oswald? It's that simple. Oh dear. He is in love with Oswald Cobblepot. Oh dear, it's true, isn't it? Oh dear, oh dear… 

There was only chaos now in his head: images, thoughts, memories stumbling over each other, spinning in a dizzying vortex, confirming over and over this one simple truth. One picture replaced another like on a broken TV screen; all of them brought only heartache and regrets. 

His trembling hands, wrapping a makeshift bandage over Oswald's injured eye even as everything inside him turned at the memory of what was underneath it. 

His sideways glances at Oswald and touches that lingered just slightly longer than necessary. 

'I trust you, Ed.' The warmth in his stomach when Oswald said that. His trembling hands and aching heart as everything inside him rebelled and fractured all over again after he broke that trust in the bank later. 

'I need you, Riddler.' His heart fluttering as Oswald whispered his chosen name almost like a prayer. Feeling of being whole, being accepted, finally. 

How lost and hopeless he was after being freed from his icy prison. No friends, no purpose, no power. Alone . 

But not nearly as alone and lost as he had been after shooting Oswald. When every little thing in that mansion reminded him of his dear dead friend: Oswald's favorite china set, the only coffee brand Oswald tolerated and his herbal teas, Oswald's unread book on the coffee table in the library, Oswald's dark bathrobe with golden embroidery, a small cushion Oswald used to place under his bad leg to give it a rest after a long day. Each moment spent in Van Dahl mansion after that fateful day at the docks felt like a thousand needles stinging deep inside the bleeding remains of his heart. And still, he didn't leave the place. Endured the pain because he deserved it. Because it allowed him to keep that fragile connection to Oswald. He was addicted. And not to the pills he took to keep invoking his dead friend's image.

The hallucination of Oswald singing for him seductively in the luscious red haze. Oh dear God. He actually imagined Oswald seducing him — quite successfully at that — and didn't give it much thought? Didn't understand what his own twisted brain was trying to show him? What kind of a 'genius' was he?! 

How alluring and powerful Penguin looked covered in blood after their escape from the Court. Magnificent in his primal fury. How much he wanted to shut that smart mouth with a kiss but swiftly ground that thought to dust and convinced himself that a bullet would work better.

Waves of relief washing over him when he met Oswald inside the birdcage. His friend was alive! Except they weren't friends anymore. Relief shifting into anguish. 

'This will be a cold-blooded murder of someone you love.' Broken voice of heartbroken Oswald, desperately pleading for his life. Rain drizzling, hiding their tears. 

'It will change you.' And it did. He became the Riddler. And still, he missed Oswald, wanted Oswald, needed Oswald. 

'I don't love you.' A lie, tasting bitter on his tongue.

'Ed, I love you.' He didn't believe it then. Didn't dare to believe. 

'I love you, Edward.' Oswald's soft voice earlier this evening, words directed to the dog. So that's what he felt then. Jealousy. He wanted Oswald to say those words to him and him alone. But he didn't deserve them anymore.

'I would do anything for you.' His own tender voice repeated in his mind. Feeling warm and safe being wrapped in his friend's arms, silently dreaming of staying there forever. Oh God, for how long was he in love with Oswald? Even before Isabella? How blind could he be?

'Why are you being so kind?' Sweet gifts, puzzles, and soft sweater were the only things keeping him warm and sane inside Arkham. Oswald's admiration for his intelligence and appreciation of his advice, echoing with the fluttering of his heart. Oswald's attentiveness and care after he got Ed released, rendering him speechless sometimes. 

'Do you believe in fate?' His younger version asked Mr. Penguin, eager to please. His steady hands stitching the wound on his feathered friend's shoulder.

'Fate has different plans for us.' Their reconciliation. 

Working together. Saving Oswald from that lunatic ventriloquist. Joking and friendly bickering. 

Staying to fight for Oswald because Ed listened to his heart. 

'I won't let you hurt him!' Oswald refusing to give him up to Barbara, protecting him even after betrayal. Ready to give his life for Ed back then just like he was today. 

'Eddie!' Oswald shielding him. The sacrifice. The agonizing scream. The blood.

'It was the least I could do.' What did he mean?

'Together.' Their pact. Their trust. Their acceptance.

'We're brothers.' Oh dear. Oswald called them brothers . Oh, no, no, no, no, no . He was too late, Oswald didn't love him anymore. Of course , he didn't.

'I'm going to follow my heart.' Oswald said that right before leaving Ed with the dog, submarine, and treasure. Ed wasn't his heart, just an ally. Penguin truly didn't love him anymore. Why would he, after everything? After all betrayals and heartbreaks? After all the pain Oswald had suffered because he had the misfortune to fall in love with the biggest ignorant fool in Gotham. Ed had missed his chance, nothing left to do now except…

"Ed? Ed, are you alright?" 

It took him a few long moments to realize that this was real Oswald's voice calling to him with sincere concern, not another memory resurfaced in his head. Ed was pulled out from his frantically whirling thoughts bordering on panic. In times like these, he wished he didn't have his eidetic memory with all the vivid images his restless brain supplied. 

"Y-yes." 

Why was his voice shaking? Why was his whole body shaking?

"You were in the shower for quite some time; I think I nodded off for a bit. The water must be cold by now. Is everything okay?" 

Oh, that's why. Water was freezing. How long has he stood there?

"F-fine. Be there, s-soon." Ed turned the water off. He barely felt his hands. Seems like Oswald has saved him. Again.

Ed forced his trembling limbs to cooperate and get out of the tub. He rubbed himself with a towel, trying to make the blood circulate again, but it didn’t help. He put on his sleep clothes and glasses. Before returning to Oswald, Ed stopped to look in the mirror. It wasn't even fogged anymore, all steam long gone.

"What should I do?" he asked his reflection. It stared back, expression unchanging from terrified wide eyes and quivering pale lips. There was no one but him on the other side. 

Edward braced his hands on the wooden surface on both sides of the mirror. He barely sees his other half anymore. All their interactions lately were down to occasional internal banter when Ed was too stressed out or deep in thought. Aside from that, he was whole, psyche more or less intact, both his sides working together, without the need to dissociate completely or fight about every step. There was a time when Ed dreamed of not seeing anyone else in the mirror, be it his stronger or weaker self. But he needed someone to talk to right now. His distress could turn into a full-blown panic attack at any moment. And obviously, he couldn't tell Oswald about that. 

"P-please t-talk to me," Ed stuttered and closed his eyes, silently pleading for his stronger half to appear. The one that always saved him in critical situations. Whether he wanted it or not. 

Oh, come now, Eddie. Why the long face? Riddler's smug voice cooed mockingly in his head. Ed opened his eyes, and there he was, staring back at him from the mirror in all his shimmering green glory.

"I think I-I'm in l-love with Oswald," he mumbled, feeling like a child asking for advice from an elder brother he never had. 

Oh, you think ? Riddler snorted. Took you long enough, Eddie, I assumed you'd never come to your senses. 

"You knew ?" he asked incredulously and recoiled from the mirror. Riddler raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

Obviously. I'm you. But smarter. Edward's green-clad reflection grinned from ear to ear, pointing at his temple for emphasis.

"Why didn't you t-tell me sooner? We lost so m-much time and opportunities," in the back of his mind Ed registered his teeth clanking and body shaking violently but couldn't be bothered right now.

I tried to tell you, but you were stuck too deep in your pathetic delusions about being in 'love' with the librarian and then the Doc . He did air-quotes as he spoke and spat out Lee's title. Riddler had every right to resent her, Ed supposed, after her attempts to keep him locked up and powerless.

"But what should we d-do now?"

That's easy, Eddie. Let's go to our little bird, kiss him, and make him love us again.

"No! I'm not gonna make him do anything," Ed was repulsed by the mere notion of forcing Oswald. "And he's n-not our bird." 

Riddler scowled, visibly annoyed. Not with that attitude. He released the most dramatic sigh. I didn't suggest forcing him, you idiot. Ed gritted his teeth but let the insult slip; he was used to them from his other-self. I love him as much as you do, if not more. We're whole now, remember? He said in a softer tone. 

Ed wondered why Riddler said he 'loves' Oswald so naturally. Love is a weakness, and he was created to be anything but. Riddler only smirked, knowing perfectly well what Ed was thinking.

"Yes, we are," despite insults and bickering, Edward Nygma and the Riddler were one now. More often than not lately, he couldn't even tell what part of him was dominating at the moment. They just seamlessly switched and changed without standing in each other's way, usually saying and doing what both of them wanted without the need to separate and cause a memory loss like they used to. They both realized the importance of each other for their whole being and embraced it, thus becoming one. 

"B-but how do we m-make him love us again?" he stammered with a note of desperation in his tone. 

"Ed, I can't hear you. Are you talking to me?" Oswald's distant voice was calling from the room.

"No, Oswald, just m-myself," he answered honestly, not expecting any judgment from his friend. 

"Well, you both need to rest, so finish up and come here."

'You both.' Dropped so casually, like it was nothing abnormal to him. Come to think of it, Oswald always saw and readily accepted them both, Ed and Riddler together. Not counting those times he refused to speak Riddler's name to spite him. Which already was an acknowledgment in on itself. 

Penguin was the only one who saw him whole, didn't try to appeal to only one of his sides while ignoring - or destroying - the other. Unlike Kristen, who would've never accepted his darker side. Unlike Isabella, who was strangely fixated on invoking and manipulating his killer tendencies, all the while appealing to Ed's softer personality with silent promises of a 'normal' life. Unlike Lee, who tried to tame him and keep him docile, harmless. Unlike everyone else, who treated him like a weird freak at best or a depraved psychopath at worst. Oswald knew all his sides and treated them with the same affection and respect. 

Edward's spontaneous inner trip down memory lane not only confirmed his previously unrecognized feelings for Oswald but also showed how poorly Ed treated him, stomping all over his battered heart, bit by bit destroying the only man who ever cared for him. It's about time Ed recognized and fully appreciated his friend's unconditional acceptance. For far too long he had taken it for granted.

Ed glanced in the mirror one last time. 

Let's start by making our lovely bird feel safe and comfortable. Riddler winked at him and disappeared. Ed nodded, took a deep breath, and returned to the room. He felt better, more confident. Or at least less panicking.

Oswald was sitting in the armchair beside the fireplace and flipping through a book about unconventional chess strategies. Good thing Ed remembered to disarm all his traps when they returned here. Edward the dog — oh dear, so he finally accepted its name, didn't he? Oh well, if it would make Oswald feel better then Ed was ready to call the female bulldog by his own name all day long; — was already snoring in a pile of blankets next to his owner's armchair. No doubt Oswald made this cozy nest for his canine friend by himself. Ed found it adorable and didn't try to deny or find excuses for those thoughts anymore. Feels good to be honest with himself finally. 

"At last, I thought you fell asleep in there..." Oswald put the book away and glanced at Ed. His irritation instantly switched to concern. "Oh God, Ed, you're shaking." Does he? He stopped noticing it, too preoccupied with much more pressing matters on his mind. 

"Come here, sit by the fire." 

Before Ed could do anything, Oswald abruptly stood up and ushered him into the warmed armchair. Then took the quilt lying folded on the mattress and wrapped it around Edward's shaking shoulders. 

"Pull your legs up." Ed obediently pulled his knees to his chest. He was rendered speechless and pliant under this onslaught of caring. 

His heart ached from the tenderness of Oswald's hands as he gently but efficiently tucked him into the quilt, locking him in a soft cocoon. Ed tried his best to hold back tears slowly but surely creeping in. Why did he suddenly want to cry? 

Because nobody ever cared for us like this. Even Riddler's voice inside his head was serious and soft, lacking his usual detached cold flare. They both were stunned by this almost motherly display of affection.

Meanwhile, Oswald brought another dry towel and covered Ed's damp hair with it, taking off his glasses before that. Ed instantly felt warmer as cold drops of water stopped sliding down his neck. 

"What were you thinking, soaking in freezing water like that?" As soon as he finished fussing over Ed, Oswald switched from concern to chastising. But there was still more worry than irritation in his voice. And his hands, gently rubbing Ed's hair with the towel, showed his true intentions better than words ever could. Edward smiled, closed his eyes, and melted under Oswald's tender care. "And stop smiling, I'm trying to scold you here!" Oswald poked his shoulder but again, too softly to be at least a bit painful, which made Edward's smile grow even wider.

" 'm s-sorry, Ozzie, just got l-lost in thoughts." 

Oswald's hands atop his head trembled and withdrew, taking the now damp towel with them. Oh no, did he do something wrong? Did Oswald dislike being called Ozzie? Ed used to call him that occasionally in private during their political career but never after Isabella incident. Did it bring bad memories to Oswald? Oh dear, he needed to fix it right now. 

But before Ed could do or say anything, Oswald's delicate touches returned. This time on his shoulders, massaging gently through the quilt. It sent pleasant shivers down Edward's spine, and warmth to his head as blood started streaming faster. Ed hummed appreciatively. "Thank you for your care, Oswald; you just saved me from freezing to d-death in my own shower," he murmured.

"I-I'm, um… Well, I'm not letting you get sick and make me go to the GCPD alone tomorrow," Oswald mumbled defensively, trying to keep his composure. Ed wasn't fooled by his facade though; he didn't even need to look at his friend's face to know he's blushing. It was Ed's fault: too often he neglected to acknowledge Oswald's support, receiving it without giving a single kind word in return. Now even a simple 'thank you' could throw the powerful kingpin off balance. Ed swore to make sure Oswald always knows how much he's appreciated from now on.

Soon enough, Edward's body slowly began to relax as he almost stopped shaking, and hints of blissful warmth spread all over him, tingling through the numb muscles. But he was still rigid cold, and also felt terrible for taking Oswald's seat. That gave him an idea. 

"Come here, sit with me, your leg must be killing you. And you can help me get warm faster," Ed lowered his feet on the floor and opened the quilt, inviting Oswald to join him on his lap. Penguin stopped rubbing Ed's shoulders and hesitated. 

"Come on, Oswald, I'm freezing here," he waved the edge of the quilt to emphasize impatience. 

That worked somehow. Oswald sighed, limped around the armchair and very carefully and awkwardly lowered himself on Ed's lap. He was stiff and clearly uncomfortable. Ed knew Oswald didn't allow other people to get so close to him physically. Because usually, it meant they got close to him emotionally as well, which granted them the power to hurt him. There was a time when Ed could easily get even closer if he wanted to. Now he needed to break all Penguin's scar-crafted barriers again. 

Ed delicately put his hand on Oswald's waist and slightly tugged the man closer. "Oswald, you're not even remotely heavy enough to cause me any discomfort. Sit closer so I can cover us both. I'm not gonna bite you, I promise," he teased to lighten the mood. 

Oswald huffed defiantly: "Of course not, you don't want me to bite back," and in a swift motion situated himself wholly on Ed's lap, pressing left shoulder to his chest, leaving legs hanging over the armrest and arms lying crossed on his own thighs. Riddler smiled: there's that fiery bird he loves so much. Oh dear, how had he gotten used to that thought so fast? 

Ed wrapped them both in the quilt as best as he could, which was pretty good considering that only their feet were left uncovered. Oswald was still noticeably tense as Ed hugged his slender frame closer to his chest. The right arm wrapped around Oswald's back and rested on his narrow waist, the left laid over his thighs closer to knees — both supporting and fixing Penguin's warm figure snuggly in place. 

Edward felt Oswald's heart fluttering behind his ribcage where their chests touched. Why was it beating so fast? Did Oswald not trust him to be so close? Was he afraid of a sudden attack? But they didn't even have knives at hand and had no reason to hurt each other anyway. How odd. Perhaps he just needed time to adjust to the cold temperature of a body next to him. Yes, that's probably the reason.

Oswald sucked in a sharp breath and shivered. "God, you're like a living popsicle, Ed. Don't ever hug me after a freezing shower again," he muttered, frowning.

"Did you know that Emperor penguins can endure temperatures lower than forty degrees Fahrenheit below zero?"  

"Edward Nygma, you dare talk to me about low temperatures right now?" Penguin hissed, and Ed's giggle earned himself a faint swat on the chest. 

"Ow," he murmured without bothering to feign hurt before continuing his trivia. "They minimize heat loss by keeping the outer surface of their plumage below the temperature of the surrounding air. Neat, huh?" 

Oswald huffed. "That is pretty neat, indeed. At times like these, I actually wish I had feathers like my namesakes," his body shuddered, confirming the point.

"Be careful what you wish for: this is Gotham, after all. Anything can happen." 

Penguin snorted. "What, you're saying that somebody could turn me into a bird?" 

Ed giggled at that thought. "To be honest, I wouldn't even be too surprised. But if that happens, be sure to waddle to me: I'll feed you fish, do some experiments, it'd be fun." 

"I'm afraid we have very different definitions of fun," Oswald huffed sleepily and gingerly rested his head on Riddler's shoulder. "Get warmer faster, would you?" he muttered into Edward's collarbone. His feathery hair tickled Ed's neck; they were almost dry and quite ruffled now. 

They remained like this, snuggled close together in comfortable silence. Minutes flew by, and the only sounds were fire beside them, Edward snoring in his nest of blankets and steady breathing of each other. 

Penguin was surprisingly light and even skinnier than his clothes showed. They had to cut their rations drastically these last few weeks, even Barbara's storages emptied once she decided to help Gordon feed the remaining refugees. And Oswald insisted on sharing only his share of food with his four-legged friend. Ed made a mental note that as soon as he gets his hands on some ingredients, he must cook a nice meal for Oswald and make sure he grows more meat on those bones. It will be even more pleasant to hug him, Ed mused. 

Ed barely caught himself before drifting into sleep. Oswald's drowsiness was also getting better of him, judging by his deep breathing, relaxed body, and closed eye. The last thing Edward wanted was to disturb their cozy cuddling, but his friend's comfort came first. 

"Oswald, perhaps you would prefer to sleep on the mattress? I think it would be better for your leg," he whispered.

"No, Ed. You placed me here, and I'm staying right where I am," Oswald mumbled sleepily but defiantly. "Don't even hope that you can move me from this spot so easily now that I've finally gotten warm." 

To emphasize his point, Oswald shifted, wrapped his arms tightly around Ed's middle, and snuggled even closer, practically sprawling on top of him now: head rested on Ed's chest, any signs of hesitation and tension gone. Ed beamed happily, hummed and hugged Oswald tighter in agreement. 

Edward too has warmed up by now, no more numbness in his limbs. Blissful warmth spread all over his body, and he suspected that it wasn't only physical sensations but also from finally being honest with his feelings and having this lovely bird snuggled in his arms. Ed still felt terrified of the moment to confess his feelings to Oswald. Maybe he should just tell him now? No, they needed to rest; this day had more than enough developments already. What if Oswald doesn't love him anymore after everything that happened? What if he'll hate Ed for admitting his feelings too late? What if he'll leave him, forever this time? Edward would lose not only his love but also his best friend. 

Ed shook his head to chase unpleasant thoughts away. He wondered if Oswald had felt this anxious when he first realized his feelings. He remembered vividly how hard Oswald was trying to tell him something but simply couldn't get the words out of his mouth. And when the man had finally found the courage to come clean, Ed stood him up so carelessly. All for a second chance at 'normal' life he was supposed to have. Ed felt waves of regret wash over him again. How could he even consider himself smart if he was too ignorant to notice his own and Oswald's blooming feelings? 

Edward was drawn from his self-flagellation by Oswald's sleepy incoherent mumbling and nuzzling of the hooked nose at the crook of his neck. He didn't even notice how the man nestled in his lap had fallen asleep. He remembered how Oswald used to talk in his sleep after emotional or stressful events. Ed tried to discern his quiet mumbling but couldn't pick out much apart from 'no' and 'run'. And then Oswald breathed 'Eddie' oh so tenderly and tightened his embrace, burying his face even closer into Ed's neck. So close that he could feel long eyelashes brushing him slightly. 

Oswald had called him 'Eddie' for the first time in a very long while right before covering him from the grenade explosion. He couldn't resist planting a feather-light kiss on the mop of unruly black hair, softly tickling his face as he did so. Perhaps, if fate indeed meant for them to be together, someday he'll be able to kiss this beautiful man on the lips and when they both were awake and willing. If only Oswald will be able to love him once again. Ed promised himself to do anything to earn Penguin's affections, to become worthy. He sighed dreamily, rested his cheek on Oswald's forehead, and dozed off to the sound of deep breathing at the base of his neck.

—?—

He woke up to restless fidgeting and whimpering in his arms. Judging by the candles, they slept like this for less than three hours. The sky was dark, still a long time until sunrise. The heat from the fireplace rustling next to their armchair was matched only by the burning body pressed close to Ed.

Oswald was asleep, but a frown creased his brow, and a tear flowed from his healthy eye onto Edward's t-shirt. His whole body was overheating; beads of sweat covered pale skin. Fever. Mild. Not unexpected.

"Oswald, you need to wake up," Ed murmured and gingerly stroked Oswald's thigh. He woke with a start and stared at Ed, panicking.

"Ed, r-run," he whispered frantically. Ed wondered what he saw in his sleep. Nothing happy, it seems.

"It's alright, Oswald, we're safe. It's just a dream. Let's get you to bed," he placated and waited for Oswald to calm down. Then carefully snaked his left arm under his friend's knees with his right supporting under shoulderblades and got up in one fluid motion. Oswald yelped in surprise and wrapped his arms around Ed even tighter. Riddler smirked at that reaction and carried the sleepy bird to his green mattress. 

He gave Oswald more painkillers and placed a cool washcloth over his forehead. He had no medication for fever; the only thing he could do was keep the wet washcloth cold and make Oswald drink more water. Ed pulled the armchair closer to the makeshift bed.

Slowly fever dropped, and Oswald drifted to sleep again. Ed considered joining him on the mattress or dozing off right here in his seat. But then he noticed that Edward woke up and was sniffing at his empty bowl. The bulldog stared at Ed with the most pitiful pleading puppy eyes he had ever seen. No wonder Oswald couldn't leave the dog in that clinic if he was met with the same or even sadder look. 

Whew, Riddler whistled in the back of their mind. If I had a heart, it would've melted under that puppy stare. Edward can handle the hunger, though; he's fat enough. 

Doubt we can find a proper steak for him anyway, Ed giggled. Riddler snorted in response but continued more seriously.

But Ozzie is too weakened by malnutrition and injuries as it is. Get up, Eddie, chop-chop. Let's go find some food for our skinny bird. 

Ed yawned, got up from his seat and switched into one of his last spare green suits and a clean dark grey shirt, fastening a purple tie with swirling black patterns around his neck. He checked one last time that his feathered friend was sleeping peacefully and had a normal skin temperature, prepared a glass of water and two pills for the morning, and left the library as quietly as possible. 

Chapter Text

Oswald never was a morning person. Especially when in said mornings he couldn't get some much-needed coffee to kickstart his brain. Even more so when said brain was screaming in agony after yesterday's events and injury. Oswald groaned in pain as he realized that he couldn't even open his one good eye. His right leg was also throbbing, but that ache was old and familiar, Penguin was used to live with it. Pain from his most recent injury was new and searing, burning half of his face. 

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. "Oswald? I'll get you painkillers and water." Ed's voice was thick with concern, and thankfully his friend was considerate enough to speak quietly.

Just a few moments later, one of Oswald's fists was gently unclenched and two pills put onto his palm. He hurriedly swallowed them without water — anything to stop that pulsating pain spreading from his eye to the whole right side of his face and then his entire head. It felt like his skin was slowly peeled off. When Oswald struggled to pull himself higher, he felt a strong arm snaking its way around him under shoulderblades as Ed carefully and slowly helped him to sit. 

"Here Oswald, drink. It's just water." 

Smooth glass surface pressed at his lips, he obediently opened them and took a few big gulps of cold water. He finally felt alive enough to blink open his eye. The first thing he saw was Ed's face frowning with care and sympathy. He was so close now, his hand still supporting Oswald's back. 

"Hello, sleepyhead," Ed gave him a small smile. "Lie back for a few minutes, wait for pills to start working. I'll get our breakfast," he gently helped Oswald ease back on the pillows. 

Slowly the pain started to numb. It still hurt like hell, but at least Oswald was able to think again. He slowly sat up. Ed was not in the room, but there were empty plates and cups on the table. Did Edward really say breakfast? But they didn't have any food left here. Maybe Oswald misheard him because of the pain. 

He went to the bathroom. Cool water helped freshen up a little but did nothing for his mood. It all weighed down on him now: the missed opportunity to escape and start life anew, the fight and explosion, waking up early to the searing pain, the fact that he didn't even have food for his four-legged Edward... Oswald sighed deeply and fixed his hair as much as he could with what product Ed had here before leaving the bathroom.

As he returned to the main room, Oswald caught an unmistakable scent of canned food and… coffee? Ed was indeed setting the table with food for them. He was pulling chunks of meat from cans and dividing them between plates evenly. Their cups were full of barely steaming coffee. The dog Edward was already loudly chomping something from his plate, rumbling happily.

"Ed? Where did you get this? I thought we brought all remaining food to the sub," he asked incredulously. 

"Yes, we did; I wish I stored some of it here. But alas, this breakfast I had to steal earlier today. Sorry about the quality," Ed shrugged with a sheepish smile. "That was a particularly stupid pack of looters I found a few blocks from here. They  actually  believed that toxic mutants were chasing me. Idiots didn't even take their stuff when ran away screaming," he laughed smugly. 

To think that Ed went through all the trouble of procuring food for the three of them in the middle of the night. What a wonderful man. 

"Thank you, my friend, you're a lifesaver," Oswald decided Ed deserved to be smug about himself just this once. "I think I could kill for a cup of coffee," he sat at the table and took a sip from his cup. It wasn't remotely good coffee, but right now for Oswald, it tasted heavenly. And he doesn't even like coffee in the first place. He closed his eye in bliss and hummed appreciatively. 

"I would've liked to see  that ," Ed chuckled. He finished organizing their plates with shared meat from cans and sat opposite Oswald. 

"Well, I  did  kill a man for a sandwich once," he huffed.

"Citizens of Gotham, beware! The hungry Penguin is on the loose!" Ed exclaimed in a deep growl, holding his fork like a microphone and menacingly waving knife over his head for dramatic effect. Oswald was glad that he swallowed his coffee before that as he burst into laughter at this ridiculous scene. He appreciated Ed trying to lift his spirits and distract him from pain. It definitely worked. 

"Only the fearless Riddler can stop him from wreaking havoc onto innocent food-owners!" Oswald supported Ed's theatrical flare with his own. Ed joined him in laughter.

"Nope, I'd rather watch" he smirked and shook his head. "Alright, please enjoy your breakfast, oh dreadful Penguin, before Edward and I have to defend ourselves," he chuckled. 

Oswald couldn't hold his pleased grin at the fact that Ed called his dog by name for the very first time. He decided against mentioning it, though. Instead, he dug into the meat on his plate and hummed appreciatively. 

Ed has been so kind and almost affectionate these past few weeks. Even before the fight and the grenade. Penguin was trying so hard for so long to block his old feelings for the man and thought he finally managed to get over him when Riddler had disappeared with the Doc. Oswald even got himself a new friend Edward, hoping to fill the void in his lonely heart. Oh, how wrong he was! As soon as they started working together on the plans to escape Gotham, his old fondness for the brilliant Riddler returned. After the Penn incident, they became even closer, and Oswald couldn't lie to himself anymore. He still loved Edward with his whole heart. 

But when he gave up that inner fight and acknowledged his reborn feelings, Oswald discovered that somehow they have evolved. Where once was a burning need and longing to have Edward - burning enough to get his competition killed - now it was replaced by a deep warm feeling of pure fondness and tender affection. Unconditional acceptance and readiness to do anything for him.  Love . Ed taught him how to love genuinely and purely. Just Penguin's luck that after he had learned what true love meant, he could never again present his heart for the man who gave him this lesson.

Oswald knew now what it meant to be willing to sacrifice and do anything for the person he loves. And since that person will never love him back, the only thing he can do is sacrifice his own desires and wishes. Be just Edward's friend, his brother even. Pretend that his love and fondness are solely platonic. Forget his dreams of them being together in other, more romantic and intimate ways.

This kindness and commitment Ed expresses now do  not  help at all. Neither did falling asleep nestled in his arms last night. Granted, they did hug before and even shared a bed, but  that  was something else entirely. Oswald hesitated to agree sitting in Ed's lap. He's not used to be so close to another person. Especially if he has romantic feelings toward that person and can't let him know it. 

But he had to help Ed warm up somehow, and bodily warmth was the best tool he could use. Oswald just wanted to help his friend. He knew that this was a one-time thing, momentary weakness; they both were too exhausted to think clearly. Wine on empty stomachs didn't help either. At least those were his excuses for having one of his dreams come true. 

But that turned out to be a completely different kind of torture for Oswald. Trying to relax was unspeakably hard with Ed's strong arms hugging him and his hot breath ghosting on Penguin's neck, with Edward's lips so close he could just lean slightly and taste them if he dared. It took all of Oswald's power to control his breathing and act casually. He prayed Ed didn't notice his tension and frantic heartbeat. However, when he did manage to relax, all he felt was pure heavenly bliss. The warmth of Ed's body enveloped him even better than soft quilt around them. Oswald felt at peace. Safe.

He will cherish those moments for the rest of his life. He shall make a special room in his heart for the memories of that cozy cuddling on the armchair by the fireplace and keep them locked up in there, private and secure. Someday they will probably help him endure the sight of Edward's another pretty girlfriend or boyfriend even. Whenever he has to watch them cuddle and kiss, he will remember what it felt like to fall asleep nestled in Ed's embrace. Although he fears that it might hurt even more. 

Still, if the day comes when Ed suggests something similar to this, Oswald will have to make some excuse and decline the invitation. It would be unfair to use Ed's purely platonic touches when Oswald perceived them oh so differently. He won't allow himself to disrespect his friend like this again by taking advantage of his unawareness of Oswald's more than friendly feelings. Or, God forbid, make them known once more. Penguin swore to never betray Edward's trust again by overstepping his boundaries. He will do anything to keep their friendship this time.

Last night has further confirmed that they were indeed friends and could trust each other with their lives. Oswald had initiated their pact and hug as a test to see if he can be confident that Ed won't stab him in the back even when his own life is in danger. Obviously, he knew that Ed had seen the knife, that was his intention. He also heard an unmistakable click of Riddler's switchblade. 

Stepping in potential death's embrace was admittedly scary. Despite their friendly interactions these past months, Riddler could still easily stab him and dispose of the only person who knew him so well, who could be most dangerous. Oswald wasn't sure if he would've used his blade in return. He would probably want to but almost certainly wouldn't be able to. How could he ever kill the love of his life? 

The relief he felt when Ed hadn't struck was indescribable. Edward passed his test. Oswald had his best friend back, for sure this time. No way he would risk losing him again, even if it meant enduring sharp stinging in his heart from not being able to kiss those smooth lips each time his gorgeous friend smiled or asked a riddle with childish glee. But pain was an old friend. Penguin will survive it. 

They were eating in comfortable silence. Oswald glanced at Ed and noticed him scowling at his reflection in the mirror. He wondered what about his friend was arguing with himself this time. Penguin was so used to Ed having some sort of split personalities that it didn't seem even a bit odd. He considered Riddler an integral part of Edward Nygma as a whole. Maybe it was wrong to think that mental issues could be natural for a person. But this is Gotham; it's a lot like Wonderland: they are all mad here. Some more than others. Borders of normality were blurred so much that almost everything could be considered normal if you look at it from the right angle.

Of course, it goes without saying that if Ed ever expressed a desire to change himself, Oswald would be there for him, finding the best doctors and medicine there is. He will always support his friend; however he can. For now, though, Edward and Riddler seemed to be comfortable with what they were, and that's what matters. Oswald was delighted that they've found a way to coexist since they both were precious in their own unique manner. 

He knew for sure that he loved all Edward's sides equally and deeply. Oswald loved Ed's sweet kindness and endearing dorkiness just as much as he loved Riddler's blazing power and calculated ruthlessness. He loved their smugness, flair for dramatic, ingenuity, endless curiosity, sense of humor, and even riddles. He'd never admit it out loud though. 

"Thank you again, Ed," he said after they finished their meal.

"You're welcome," Ed smiled back, gathering plastic plates into the trash bag. "We should get going. Lee said she'll be there at seven. I'm also hoping to discuss Jeremiah's generators with Foxy if I get a chance." 

Oh, of course Ed wants to hang out with his 'Foxy', they're both brilliant minds with so much in common. Oswald sighed, fully aware of his lack of any scientific knowledge. He'll never be able even to hope to match Mr. Fox's level of expertise. Let alone Edward's.

"Only one small device managed to drop the Wayne tower! It'd be most helpful if Foxy shared at least a bit of the information on the bomb's mechanism. Of course, I'll discover it on my own someday and recreate it even without his input. Perhaps change some things: like size, color, and most importantly, remote control. I already have a few design improvements in mind..." he was excitedly rambling, and Oswald found the sight achingly endearing. He loved Riddler's passionate desire to know everything. And even his obsessive compulsion to show off his remarkable intelligence was oddly adorable.

They had to stop at the City Hall to get Oswald's remaining suits and other possessions before it gets reclaimed by the city. And to change his today's attire. Under no circumstances would Penguin appear at the station wearing Edward's pajamas or his own yesterday's unwashed clothes. He was in desperate need of a tailor though; Oswald couldn't even find an undershirt among his sparse garments not lost with the sub. 

After that they were driving to the GCPD. Riddler behind the steering wheel, Oswald in the passenger seat with Edward in his lap. He refused to leave the poor creature alone again. Ed was dead set against the idea, and after long minutes of bickering, Oswald had to invoke his right to demand favor from their little game yesterday. It caused a long-suffering sigh and a grudging promise to keep the bulldog safe if Oswald couldn't. 

He was absentmindedly scratching behind the dog's ear and miserably failing to concentrate on Ed's explanation of every possible chemical reaction Scarecrow's fear toxin might have when mixed with nicotine, alcohol, heroin, acid and other destructive substances.

"I'd be thrilled to meet Mr. Crane someday. As fellow scientists, we could make an effective team. It'd be dandy to learn his insight on the inner workings of human's mind under the influence of his ingenious toxin," he sounded like a real mad scientist now. The only things missing are bloodied lab coat, cracked glasses, and unkempt long hair, Oswald thought and suppressed a giggle as he imagined it.

"Well, I don't know anything about chemical reactions behind his toxin, but I can assure you that it feels like your whole world has been narrowed down to only this one horrifying image before you. And you know you can't do anything to get away from it, no way to save yourself. So besides terror you also feel overwhelming hopelessness," Oswald vividly recalled that day in the Iceberg Lounge and shivered.

"Wow, you sound almost like you're speaking from experience."

"That's because I am. I've been personally  acquainted  with Mr. Crane's work."

"What? When did that happen? What did you see?" Oh, that was an uncomfortable topic.

"I was subjected to the Scarecrow's fear toxin during the opening night of the Iceberg Lounge. I saw some creepy distorted images, reality mixed with fears. It all was so disturbing that I actually sought refuge in the figure of Jim Gordon who stood nearby," a sidelong glance told Oswald that his friend was shocked and almost furious at that, which was surprising. He continued before being asked to elaborate on that shameful episode. "I was also drugged with an altered version of Mr. Crane's father's chemical as a part of Strange's 'therapy' during my first stay in Arkham. I learned about that part later."

Ed was silent and seemingly upset for some reason as he adjusted his glasses, gaze fixed on the road. Perhaps that wasn't what he anticipated to hear about Crane's 'fascinating' experiments. Oswald wondered  what  he was expecting in that case. 

"As for Jonathan himself, I had to work alongside him for a short amount of time. He was still a very young man, barely out of his teens. But already he was determined and very dangerous. Too easily influenced, though, like most young people. But loyal. I also heard he gathered quite formidable force after the bridges blew. His band had even raided the GCPD and the clinic, successfully, according to my informants. What I mean is I suggest you be careful when you contact the Scarecrow. If you still want to. He doesn't fool around."

"Neither am I," Riddler smirked. "But thank you  so much  for your concern, Oswald, I'm  sooo  flattered," he drawled, sarcasm dripping with each word and mocking grin splitting his face in half.

Oswald scoffed. "Oh do as you like, Riddler. But don't say I didn't warn you," Ed only snorted in response. "To be honest, when it comes to mad scientists, I prefer working with Victor Fries."

"Of course you do, Mr. Freeze is so much  cooler  after all," he looked awfully smug for that remark as he glanced at Oswald to gauge his reaction.

"Ice puns now, Ed? Really?" Oswald couldn't hold his eye-roll. 

"Hm, I bet he's a type of guy who gives the  cold shoulder  everyone at first," Ed was visibly struggling not to laugh. Oswald released a deep sigh. 

"Do you by any chance have a piece of advice on how to  break the ice  when I meet him?" Riddler's shoulders were shaking from suppressed giggling. How did Oswald manage to fall in love with this man-child, again? Oh, to hell with it!

"You know, I had some thoughts, but they just  slipped  my mind," he grumbled. There was a pause, and then Ed exploded with laughter, throwing his head back and almost steering them into a lamppost in the process. 

"I knew you had it in you!" he exclaimed between laughs. Oswald realized it was pathetic, but he couldn't help feeling proud of earning Riddler's praise. "That was  an ice  one, Penguin!" Now even Oswald couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. Dog Edward looked between the two cackling men, not understanding what the whole commotion is about. 

They were almost at the GCPD now. 

"Thank you, Ed, really," Oswald said after they stopped giggling. He felt so grateful to his friend for lighting the mood again.

"For what? Driving you and Edward around?" that sly devil.

"Now you're just fishing for compliments!" Oswald playfully chastised and continued more seriously, "For constantly making me feel better today. I even forgot about the pain and our destination for a few minutes."

"That's the least I can do," Ed echoed his words from yesterday. His tone was solemn; eyes fixed on the road. 

Oh. Was Ed still blaming himself for freezing at the sight of that grenade, for not jumping away? Oswald brushed his apologies away yesterday because they were completely unfounded, bordering on absurd even. He would jump on ten grenades if it meant his beloved friend was safe. It wasn't even a choice but rather an instinct. Oswald decided to do everything in his power to make Edward realize it wasn't his fault. 

But before he could say anything, the car came to a stop in front of the GCPD. People were shuffling around the entrance even at this ungodly hour: civilians, military, police officers, doctors. Seems like reunification has already begun as helicopters with help were arriving one after the other, bringing rations, medications, and specialists. 

Oswald wouldn't have made it without Ed saving him numerous times from bumping into people or objects due to his loss of depth perception as they made their way to the station through the crowd. This will require some getting used to. Learning to shoot with one eye probably will be like learning to shoot from scratch. But there's still hope that he might not lose his eye after all. For now, though, the only silver lining was Edward's steady hand, supporting and correcting his movements. 

They entered the building. The commotion inside was bordering on chaos. Oswald spotted Jim Gordon speaking with some military officials, presumably arrived from the mainland to help. Jim looked like he was about to drop dead on the spot but tried to mask his exhaustion with polite smiles and loud orders he was occasionally barking to his detectives, desperately trying to organize this chaos. Penguin decided it's better to leave Gordon to his devices for now; there'll be time to talk later. Besides, his head was throbbing with pain again, and all this noise didn't help. 

"Ed, you do know I'm still alive, don't you?" he joked when Ed led him to the morgue. The small room was empty. Oswald placed Edward on the floor; he had to carry the pet all the way from the car.

"I'm aware of the fact, yeah," Riddler sounded distracted as they found the Medical examiner's office empty as well. "Lee said to meet her in the GCPD, but I didn't see her in the bullpen. She'd better keep her word, or I-" 

"Or you'll what?  Stab  me?" Lee mocked as she emerged from the door behind them. 

"I was going to say 'shoot her in the head this time.' Hi, Lee," Ed grinned. 

"Hi, Ed. Oswald," she nodded politely and glided past them to the metal desk in the corner of the office to apply disinfectant and put on latex gloves. "Sit down, face the window." 

Oswald gave Edward's leash to Ed and sat on the chair. He tried his hardest not to flinch when Lee carefully pulled the gauze, and some dried blood was torn away with it, disturbing the wound. He released the shuddering breath he was holding when the bandage was removed entirely. 

Oswald couldn't help but notice the way Ed winced and averted his gaze at the sight of injury. He tried to hide it behind straightening his glasses, but Oswald saw right through it. Edward was obviously disgusted. As if the man needed more reasons to be repulsed by Penguin, he lamented silently. The Doc pulled out a small flashlight from her lab coat and directed it at his injured eye. He didn't see the light with it. 

"It's good you came here so soon. Hopefully, I'll be able to remove the remaining shrapnel shards without damaging surrounding tissue," her tone was clinical but not detached. "It'd be better if you were fully sedated during the procedure." 

"No!" he quickly refused. "Just give me some anesthetics." 

"Oswald, you'll be safe here. Maybe yo-" Ed tried to convince him to agree. He still didn't look at him, intently staring at the floor instead. 

No, Penguin wasn't going to give himself into the mercy of Dr. Thompkins so wholly. No way he would willingly subject himself to such a weakness. Being in pain is better than being helpless. 

"I'll be fine, Ed," he interrupted firmly. "I've had a bullet removed from my already hurting knee without any medication at all. Courtesy of  Jim Gordon ," he couldn't stop his accusing glare at said man's wife. She just shook her head and sighed in response. "I can bear a few stitches on my face with some strong painkillers. That's my final decision on the matter." 

"As you wish. You'll be drugged enough not to squirm too much," Lee smirked as she continued her inspection. Was that supposed to be reassuring or threatening? 

"From what I can see, the eyeball seems to be intact. But I can't be certain until the shards are removed. Also, it's too soon to make any predictions about the sight," Lee said and turned the flashlight off. "Pretty sure you'll be able to afford a prosthetic even in the worst-case scenario. I can recommend a doctor if that'll be needed," she tried to sound supportive, and Oswald was grateful for the attempt. 

Lee began gathering instruments on a plate next to the metal table covered with a white sheet. Ed was still staring at his own feet, long fingers fumbling with the leash. Penguin decided that now was his turn to lift his friend's spirits. 

"Well, prosthetic or not, I think I'd look  dashing  with a monocle," Oswald said in a light and almost dreamy tone. Ed only shrunk his shoulders even more, like he was trying to curl in on himself. 

"You totally would. Or you can go full pirate style, what with your leg and all," thankfully, Lee saw the real purpose behind Penguin's words and supported his endeavors with a joke. She was aware that sulking Ed could become a problem. Oswald glanced at the woman with gratitude. Maybe she wasn't that bad after all. 

"You are so right! I could even get myself a parrot! Teach him to command my employees. It would require a proper name though…" he pretended to mull it over, pleased to see that Ed slightly perked up with curiosity. 

"Oh, I know! I suppose I'll just call my parrot Penguin!" A small smile tugging at the corners of Edward's lips was a relief. That's better but still not enough. Oswald cringed internally but carried on.

"Now if only your husband turned a blind  eyepatch  on Penguin's crimes..." 

If there was a way to draw Ed out of his inner guilt trip, puns and wordplay were a good bet. Riddles would've worked undoubtedly, but Oswald couldn't think of one fitting the situation. This heinous pun clearly worked as the gorgeous man in green giggled and looked at Oswald with something akin to admiration and pride. 

"Where do you take a sick pirate ship?" Riddler asked with an enthusiastic grin, his back proudly straightened once more, dark eyes sparkling with mirth. There he is.

"To the  Dock, " Oswald and Lee groaned the answer in unison. They exchanged glances and shook their heads, resigned. Alright, saving her life was definitely not a bad decision.

"Correct!" Ed clapped his hands with glee and Oswald exhaled a light chuckle, unable to keep his fondness for the man contained. It was deeply satisfying to see his friend smile again.

"So,  Doc , how can I assist you?" he eagerly asked Lee and started to undo his jacket buttons. "I should go get a coat. And gloves. Oh, I can help you with stitches, or-" Riddler rambled, ready to jump into action. 

"Ed, calm down," Lee sharply turned to look at him. "I'd rather you left the room before we begin. I don't need your shaking hands or panicked babbling distracting me. Get the dog out of here and wait outside. This shouldn't take longer than an hour or two." 

Ed started to protest even as she was finishing. "How  dare  you doubt me. No, I must stay, assist you, I-". 

"Ed, I'm pretty sure Leslie won't kill me here, at least intentionally. And if she does, I'm confident you'll avenge me later." She rolled her eyes at that. "For now I need you to watch over Edward and let her do the job. That's why  you  brought me here, remember?" Oswald tried his best to sound gentle but firm. 

He didn't need Ed panicking and doing something irrational now. Then he remembered: "You said you wanted to see Mr. Fox here. Why don't you go find him in the meantime?"

Ed awkwardly shuffled in place and mumbled: "Okay. Go find Foxy, check. Alright. You're right, Oswald. 'Kay. I'll go. Find him. Talk to him. Ask him about-..." the man was obviously stalling and it was almost too adorable to handle. 

"Ed? Out.  Now !" Lee suddenly appeared threatening. Riddler glared at her defiantly but after a few moments scoffed and turned to move. He nodded at Oswald with a small reassuring smile, then left the room with the bulldog on the leash. 

Lee chuckled and shook her head. She hid her hair under a medical cap and was taking a surgical mask out of its sterile pack. "I never imagined I'd say that, but you two look surprisingly cute together," Oswald felt a blush creeping on his cheeks while she continued. "I'm glad he has someone who accepts him whole, even the Riddler. Everybody deserves to be happy no matter what some people may say."

"You make it sound like we're a couple or something," Oswald huffed a humorless chuckle as he began to removed his jacket, waistcoat, and tie. Doc stopped her movements and stared at him incredulously. 

"Are you  not ?" she seemed sincerely shocked.

Penguin scoffed, annoyance building slowly into anger. " Of course  we aren't! We're friends. I'm not a gorgeous woman who can just charm him. Especially now that he can't even look at my face without gagging," he felt a lump in his throat.

Why the hell was he telling her that? Damn doctors were always more comfortable to open up to. It was reckless and pathetic to show his vulnerability like that. He should've confided in Edward instead, canine one of course.

Lee sighed and shook her head. "Oswald, he doesn't get disgusted by the injuries. Ever. Yours doesn't even begin to compare to ones he'd seen here or in the Narrows. But you already know that. You simply don't want to believe that he's not repulsed but rather terrified for you. Ed cares for you, more than he would for a friend."

What can she possibly know about them? This is infuriating. 

"He's not interested in me like that. He doesn't love me and he never will," he practically snarled at the end, angrily hanging his clothes over the back of the chair. "And it's not like I want him to. I don't," Oswald added but it didn't sound convincing even to his own ears. And that just irritated him even more. 

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're kidding, right? You're both obviously smitten with each other. I can understand that Riddler might be a little slow when it comes to human interactions, but you're supposed to know what people think and feel." 

Oswald felt anger getting the better of him. What right does she have to tell him about Ed's feelings? After she used and almost killed the man he loves more than life itself! All too familiar rage boiled and threatened to burst out in the form of harsh words at best or sharp dagger at worst. 

Still, it would be most unwise to lash out at a person who's about to pull metal shards from your eye. He took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten to calm himself. "Look, I don't want to talk about that. Especially with you. No offense, but you're not exactly a relationship counselor. Particularly so when it comes to Edward."

"Fine," Doc raised her hands in surrendering gesture. "But I sincerely hope you both figure it out before it's too late. Not for your sake but for the city. You both are more stable when you have each other," Lee huffed a small chuckle. "Aren't we all," she muttered barely audible behind her surgical mask, more to herself than him. 

"Take your shirt off too if you don't want any blood on it. We don't have hospital gowns yet, you can wear this," Lee handed Oswald a plain white t-shirt. It was too big and hung loosely on his shoulders when he put it on. 

"Lie down on the table and try to relax. It'll hurt. A lot."

Oswald complied and watched as she pulled some thick substance in a syringe.

Chapter Text

Foxy wasn't there. Apparently, he went somewhere with Bruce Wayne, and nobody knew when he'd return. So now Ed stood staring out the window of the precinct, watching people running about their business outside, like agitated ants in a stirred anthill. 

In an attempt to find a distraction from his worrying thoughts, Edward started forming a mental checklist of things they'll need to do today, depending on Oswald's condition after the operation. Get food, possibly take rations brought from the mainland. Find a new hideout. The library will be reclaimed by the city soon enough, better to clear it out before the officials take everything. Maybe Van Dahl mansion wasn't destroyed during this year, so they can recover and plot there. Will Oswald agree to let Ed stay in his father's house again? Doubtful, considering how it ended the last time...

"Edwaaard! My cute little thing! You've been a good boy, I hope?" 

The hell?!  

He turned around to glare at Barbara Kean. She was stalking closer, shining a predatory grin, and carrying a bundle of blankets with her baby tucked inside. 

"Do you have a death wish?" Riddler growled in his most threatening low voice. 

"Ugh, I'm not talking to you, Nygma," she smirked mockingly and crouched to talk to the dog. "Hello there, Edward, you adorable baby-boy. Daddy's getting his face fixed and left you to suffer the company of this green grump, huh?" 

Oh, that again. Riddler almost forgot that he was not the only Edward here, the canine one now grumbling and panting happily under the woman's attention. Her cooing continued in a similar fashion for a few minutes. Ed sighed. No wonder Oswald had a soft spot for Barbara. Love to this drooling pooch seemed to be just another thing they both had in common. 

"So, were you a good boy, Eddie?" Barbara stood back up and snickered at his unimpressed eye-roll. "Guess I'll have to ask Ozzie about that. Is he still with Lee?" 

"Yes, for forty-seven minutes already." 

"Okay, we can wait, she's sleeping anyway," she gave the bundle a gentle shake. Then eyed Ed up and down, a crooked smirk playing on her lips. Oh, what now? 

"You don't look so hot. Didn't get much sleep last night, eh?" Correct, but Barbara didn't appear too well-rested herself; like pretty much everyone who got mixed up in defending this worthless hellhole. "I bet Pengy wore you out with 'the celebration'? That rascal, even a grenade to the face couldn't stop him from getting some," she winked at him and giggled. 

Ed furrowed his brows. He had a feeling she was insinuating something, but couldn't figure out what exactly. Somehow he knew he wouldn't like it. Barbara rolled her eyes at his lack of reaction. 

"Jeez, Nygma. I mean your no doubt wild sex to celebrate the victory, of course." 

The what?  

The what???  Riddler echoed.

"I-I'm… I don't… We didn't... You're wrong!" he sputtered, scandalized by her crude assumptions, and also taken aback by a few not exactly innocent images his quick mind and vivid imagination unhelpfully supplied after hearing about sex with Oswald.

"Ooh, seems like you're human, after all: look at that blush," Barbara cooed. Edward indeed felt his face burning, damned imagination. "It's okay, honey, no need to keep it a secret. Everyone knows already anyway."

"W-what? Knows? Everyone?" Ed felt like an idiot mumbling these questions and having absolutely no idea what's going on. He hated not knowing.

Barbara sighed. "About you and Ozzie, obviously. That you're an item now," she explained like it was a common fact.

"We-we're not an 'item' ! I don't know what you got into your little head and why, but you're wrong. We're friends," he bristled, outraged. With a sharp gesture, he nudged glasses upper on his nose.

Barbara stopped smirking and looked genuinely shocked. 

"Oh my God. You're serious," she shook her head in disbelief. "Really, Nygma? Friends ?" she spat the word like it offended her personally. "Can't believe I'm saying that, but I actually feel kinda bad for Pengy." 

"And why is that? I can be a good friend, you know."

"I highly doubt that, but it's not the reason. I mean being just friends with someone you love. It's hard, believe me, I know. Kinda like what I had with Tabby when that oaf Butch was around," she looked forlorn for a short moment. "Although our friendship had some benefits if you catch my drift," she winked at him, Ed frowned. 

"And you are wrong yet again, Barbara. That must be some kind of a record, I think," he smirked and continued solemnly. "Oswald doesn't love me. Not anymore." 

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she rolled her eyes. "Are you telling me I have to spell it out for you? Again?" 

"You don't have to say anything because guess what? You're wrong ," Ed laughed in her face. 

Barbara shook her head. "No wonder Pengy is a walking ball of nerves: he has to tolerate you every day. Only the person head over heels in love can stand your presence for so long and not blow your skull off." 

"I told you already: he doesn't lo-" 

"Jeez, Nygma. Get your head out of your ass and look around for once," he opened his mouth to spit some sarcastic retort back, but Barbara continued quickly. "The guy drops everything and runs to you whenever either of you is in trouble. He saved not only your life but also your lady's, learned his lesson by the way, good for him. Named his doggie after you to kiss it and have an excuse to say 'I love you, Edward' every day," she did air quotes with one hand, holding baby bundle with the other. "He caught a fucking grenade for you, for crying out loud! What more proof do you need? And don't even get me started on how desperately he avoids talking about you when we hang out, and occasionally wipes away tears when he thinks I'm not looking. You know how sentimental he gets after a few drinks too many. I mean, I thought you just had a fight, and he didn't want to share, but now I know the real reason."

She paused for a bit, then chuckled: "Edward, you glanced at me and knew in a second that I was pregnant because I was 'glowing'  as you put it. How blind can you be towards a guy who clearly adores you so much? And not only in a platonic kind of way."

They stayed silent for a few minutes, both buried in their own thoughts. Riddler shook his head, still not convinced. 

"All of that, it doesn't mean anything; it's what a good friend would do. Oswald had so many opportunities to say he still loves me. But instead, he called us 'brothers', Barbara."

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "That poor feather-brain. How the hell did he manage to fall for a total idiot?" 

"How dare you-" 

"Oh, shut it already. Remind me, what happened the last time he told you he loved you, hmm?" 

Oh.

"I… um… I sh-shot him and… and dumped his body in the river…" he mumbled and lowered his gaze. Remembering that day was physically painful now. 

"Exactly. Now, be a good genius and guess why he might be cautious of doing it again." 

Edward was at a loss. Barbara couldn't be right, could she? But she sounds so confident, and she was right about those matters before. He was convinced that he had to earn Oswald's love again, but what if he already has it? 

She's just messing with us. Probably wants to get something out of it like last time.  Riddler warned.

But what does she have to gain? It's not like I have a reason to kill him now. Ed cringed at the memory. 

Don't be stupid. Barbara hates you, and she hates Ozzie even more for all that Tabitha shit. She wants you to mess up somehow and spoil everything with your sudden inappropriate confessions. Then he'll hate you. And you both will be an easy target, separated and alone.

That doesn't make sense. She-... 

Barbara clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, "Just be a man and tell him you love him, jeez. 'Cause you obviously do." 

"How is that obvious to you?" He didn't even know it himself until last night. 

"Are you for real now? You mean besides the fact that you spent nine months building a submarine for him? Or the fact that you're constantly checking him out when he turns his back to you?" 

Ed felt his cheeks burn, "I do not- " 

"Oh, don't even try to deny it. Pengy has a fine butt, there's no shame in admiring the view, sweetie," she teased and snorted when Ed cringed in discomfort. "I swear to God, you both are like two horny teenagers: devour each other with your eyes but are too dumb or scared to approach and have some real deal. Your unresolved sexual tension is actually quite distracting, you know that?" she huffed a chuckle. 

Ed shook his head in disbelief. Her assumption about his feelings was correct, no matter how much he loathed to admit it. Still...

"To reach my height, you must stoop low. Betray a friend with killing blow. What am I?"

Barbara gave an exasperated eye-roll. It couldn't even begin to compete with Oswald's though. "No riddles, Nygma. Just say what you mean."

Riddler sighed with disappointment. Barbara wasn't stupid, but she didn't even try to solve the riddle or play along. Boring. "The answer is ambition, Barbara. What are you trying to achieve? What's in it for you?" 

She shrugged. "I can see why you could be suspicious. I haven't forgiven Penguin for Tabby, and I don't think I ever will. But forgiving and not actively trying to hurt are different things. You may choose not to believe me, but I actually want you two goofballs to have something true and good for once. I mean, I thought you were already together. Was mentally preparing myself to have a very steamy journey in sub with you two," Barbara smirked. 

Then sighed and continued earnestly, "I'm not plotting anything against any of you now, Edward. I have everything I need already, right here in my arms," she smiled at her sleeping child. 

So motherhood indeed does change a person. She seems so much softer than the vicious woman Riddler used to know. He's not sure how to feel about it yet. 

"I… I'll think about what you said, Barbara." 

"Well, don't take too long, smarty pants. From what I can see, you've lost plenty of chances already. Looks like Ozzie's really close to giving up on you if the 'brothers' drop is any indication." Ed frowned, that damn word, it's not what they are. 

Barbara continued musingly, "You know, Pengy might even take more drastic measures than that. Find someone to take his mind off of you, to preen his feathers and whatnot. Fly away to someone who would genuinely appreciate him." 

Barbara smirked and looked around, "There he is!" Ed followed her gaze. Oh, Gordon. The baby under the blankets began to stir. "Let's go say hi to your daddy, little princess," she turned to go.

"What belongs to you, but other people use it more than you?" Ed asked out of pure curiosity. And to take his mind away from disturbing images of Oswald kissing someone else, someone strong and smart and handsome, who understands him and has something in common with him. Riddler glared at Gordon again. Someone like him. Who shares Oswald's love for Gotham…

"Be a dear and translate it into human language."

Riddler sighed, "What's the baby's name?"

"Oh, how rude of me!" she turned to Ed again and tilted the baby so that he could see her face. "Please meet Barbara Lee Gordon!" she introduced cheerfully.

Ed huffed. "So you tease Oswald for naming his dog after me even though you called your daughter with your name?" 

Barbara laughed, "True that, Eddie. Notice how Ozzie and I named our young after people we love the most?" she winked at him and went to Gordon.

Ed huffed and looked at the dog sitting at his feet. So this is where all of Oswald's love confessions went now, huh? 

It's not the worst replacement for you, let's be honest, Eddie boy, Riddler snickered. 

For us both, you mean?  

He didn't name the dog Riddler, now did he?  Riddler's faint reflection in the window smirked. 

So, when are we going to get our hands on the pretty bird?  He clapped hands and grinned excitedly. 

Not yet. Even if Barbara is right and he does love me still, I'm not ready to tell him about my feelings right now. The timing must be perfect. 

True. Oswald must at least get out of that room in one piece.  

Ed suddenly felt short of breath from overwhelming anxiety. What if something went wrong? What if Lee decided it's better to let Oswald die on that table? What if Gordon asked her to get rid of the terror of Gotham? Lee shot Sofia — she is capable of killing Penguin.

He was a ball of panic and tried to pace around, but the bulldog soon slumped on the floor and refused to get up no matter how insistently Ed pulled him. No way in hell would he carry the smelly animal like Oswald usually does, so Ed was limited to walking in circles around him, muttering under his breath and staring at his feet as he strode. Three circles clockwise. Three circles counter-clockwise. Three circles clockwise. Three circles counter-clockwise… 

"So the dog Edward is walking you on the leash now?" Lee's lighthearted teasing didn't decrease his panic level. Ed ran to her, not paying attention to Edward's grumbling at the sudden pull of the leash. 

"How is he? Is it over? Is Oswald alive? What about his eye? Did you leave him alone in there? Is he unconscious? What did you do to him? " he assaulted the woman, rapidly spitting his hail of questions. Last one he tried to make sound threatening.

Lee raised her hands in surrendering gesture. "Oh my God, you both are gonna drive me crazy today," she shook her head. "He's fine. I removed all shrapnel." Ed breathed a sigh of relief. 

"It'll leave some scars but not too deep, nothing a good makeup can't fix. Thankfully the eyeball stayed intact; though it received severe damage from impact and heat. I can't predict if he will regain at least some sight in this eye. We'll have to wait and see how the healing progresses. The infection didn't develop yet but better safe than sorry, so I'm prescribing a course of antibiotics. Along with strong painkillers cause it'll hurt like a bitch for at least a few weeks. I'll tell the supply manager to give you all the needed medicine."

"Thank you, Lee. I mean it," he said earnestly. 

"Well, it's as you said yesterday. I did owe Cobblepot my life. Although you're probably the only reason he had me saved," she quirked an eyebrow at him pointedly. 

"So are you gonna try and tell me that Oswald and I are in love as well?" Riddler rolled his eyes. Barbara did say that 'everyone knew' after all. 

"As well, hm?" she smirked. "No, I'm not gonna tell you anything, Ed. You're smart enough to figure everything out on your own." 

Apparently not,  Riddler's spiteful laughter was deafening in his ears. 

"Is he awake? Can we leave now?" 

"He should be falling asleep in about twenty minutes. I just gave him a sedative to help with it."

"You did what? He specifically told you he would prefer pain over full sedation," Ed was beyond himself with anger. 

"Would you prefer him to scream in agony for the better half of a day?" she asked sternly. That lowered his rage but only a bit. 

"Why didn't you just sedate him straight away then? Did you enjoy his suffering?" It would be shocking to learn Lee was capable of intentionally torturing a person for no reason in particular, but the world now was even crazier than before. 

"What? That's nonsense, Ed. I'm still a doctor, you know," she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. 

After another offended glare, she explained, "Honestly, I underestimated the damage at first inspection. And later it proved to be more convenient to let him stay awake for the procedure. He didn't feel too much pain and certainly won't remember any of it after. But it's better if the effects of drugs wear off while he's unconscious. That he would definitely feel and remember otherwise. I'm not so cruel as to let him go through it while awake, homicidal Penguin or not. So no, Ed, I don't enjoy my patient's suffering. I'd let you take him now, but I'll need to check if everything's fine when he wakes."

Edward sighed, all anger gone under the sound logic in her words. "Alright, I didn't mean to offend you. I'll go see him while he's still awake," he rushed towards the M.E. office but was stopped by Lee' s firm grip on his arm. 

"Ed, it's better to let him rest for now. He's drugged out of his mind and doesn't know what he's saying. And he's saying a lot. More than I signed up to hear, actually," she frowned and released his arm. 

"What did he tell you?" he was curious now. 

Lee huffed, "It doesn't really matter, Ed. Everyone knows Penguin has issues; consider persuading him to go to a psychiatrist to sort through his rant about void swallowing us and such."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," Riddler shrugged.

"I don't," she insisted, frowning. "Even under drugs, it's not entirely healthy for a man to claim that, I quote, he got ripped from his mother's breast by a wild cat and thrown from the edge of the world with a hole in his heart. This nonsense is better be dealt with professionally. Consider it free advice."

"It's not nonsense, Lee," Ed said with a deep sigh. "It's basically what happened."

She stared at him incredulously. "Huh, you really are two of a kind. Okay, go on, but I warned you. And leave the dog here." After his questioning look, she explained: "You don't want Penguin to jump down to cuddle him and fall and hurt himself in the process, do you?" 

Ed hesitated. He was responsible for the bulldog; he made a promise. Lee groaned in frustration. "Fine, give me the leash. I'll be with Barbara and watch over Edward. Come get him when you're done." 

"Alright, don't lose him or we're all dead," he was only half-joking as he passed her Edward's leash. 

Riddler made his way into the office-turned-operating room. He walked to the sight of his friend sitting on the edge of the autopsy table and staring intently at… the floor? 

Oswald's hands were gripping the edge of the table hard, crumpling the white sheet. He had a fresh bandage over his head, and was wearing a too-big white t-shirt of unknown origin; drops of blood drying on it, sharp collarbones sticking out from its loose neck. Penguin's face seemed even more pale than usual, dark circle under his downcast eye was so pronounced it resembled a bruise. He looked so small and lost, like a child who got separated from his parents in a theme park and doesn't know what to do. 

"Oswald?" he asked cautiously. Who knows what's going on in his drugged mind right now. 

"Edward! Real human Edward!" Oswald's grin was too wide to be natural. Even somewhat creepy because he was also crying as he lifted his head slightly and glanced at Ed. Dilated pupil of his eye almost entirely covered icy green iris. 

Penguin then frowned. "Oh no, you're not real. You're floating. The real Edward's with Edward now," he giggled. "Talking with hallucinations is more his forte, but I'll humor you, fake Ed. Hello!" he grinned even wider and waved his hand but then quickly braced the edge of his seat again, as if afraid to lose balance and fall. 

Ed decided against trying to explain he was real, no point in it: Oswald will fall asleep soon anyway. Come to think of it, no point in talking to him now at all; he was alive and well enough, and it's all that matters. However, Riddler couldn't deny it's a very curious and unique opportunity to glance at the inner workings of such a beautiful mind. So he decided to talk to his drugged friend and see what fascinating things he has to say. 

"Hello, Oswald. Why are you crying?" 

He huffed. "Why does anything exist? Why are humans so fallible? What is the purpose of death?"

Riddler was taken aback by those sudden questions. Then his eyes lit up. It was a puzzle! Seems like drugs weakened Oswald's rationality and for now he relies more on his abstract thinking. Which means he didn't need a straight answer to those questions; he was leading with them to something else. Ed could relate to this mindset. 

But why those themes? Creation, life, death. They were all deep philosophical questions that neither religion nor science could answer. Or maybe that was the point? Sometimes a simple solution is best.

"I don't know." 

"Exactly!" Oswald seemed relieved that Ed succeeded in understanding the meaning. He looked at the floor again, his knuckles white from the force of grip. "I don't know why I'm crying. I don't know if I should jump down. I don't know what will happen if I do," he sounded desperate, and more tears spilled from his healthy eye.

Edward knew the best way to keep him talking was to play along with his illusions, just like with patients in Arkham or drug addicts he sometimes encountered in the Narrows. But first, he needed to get into Penguin's world. "What do you see, Oswald?"

"You're gonna pretend you don't see it?" he released a dramatic sigh. "Fine. The edge of the world and endless void beyond. It has no color. Or all colors at once," he squinted at the floor before glancing at Ed. "You're floating above it, looks funny. What do you think, fake Ed? Should I jump?"

"Why would you want to jump?"

"There might be a second chance, even for me. I think," he frowned. "Or maybe it'll be even worse. Maybe it won't be anything at all."

"What's so bad in this world? What second chance do you want?"

"I lost everyone who loved me. I lost my chance of love, ruined everything. I just wanted not to feel so cold. But I'm alone now, nobody loves me and no one ever will," he sobbed, more teardrops staining white t-shirt.

"I love you," Edward blurted out before he could stop himself. Oh dear. He really said it, didn't he? Oswald only shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. 

"Well, fake Ed, this joke of yours doesn't even make any sense. If you started liking men all of a sudden, you would've loved the light of righteous, your clever trickster. Not me. Never me."

Light, trickster? "Lucius Fox? And where did you get that idea?" Oswald only shrugged. Edward sighed, "Foxy is… Foxy. We can't even be normal friends: he's a good man and I'm not."

"No, you're not good. You're perfect," mellow look of pure adoration in his dazed eye. Feels nice to know Oswald still thinks highly of him. "Oh God, I do hope you really are a fake Ed. I'm not supposed to be telling you all that," he loudly whispered like sharing a poorly concealed secret. 

"Why not, Oswald?" this is getting more and more curious.

"Because you'll hate me again," he stated matter-of-factly and shrugged. Where did that come from? "And I won't even have a friend in this world then. But it's okay, don't worry, I won't tell you anything. Not you you. The real you." 

That quickly escalated from curious to unsettling. "Oswald, why would I hate you?"

He sighed deeply. "Because you don't love me and never will. You said so, many times. And showed, many times. You pierced my heart and gave yours to Maid Marian. Showed what you wanted. She's very nice and pretty. Very not me," he was staring at the floor again, and slightly tilting forward.

Ed realized he also had tears gathering in his eyes and a dull ache in his heart. Before now he didn't even comprehend just how much damage his mistakes inflicted on Oswald, how many deep scars he left on his best friend. Both physical and emotional. 

Seems like this particular wound was still fresh, scar tissue barely covering it. The wound Edward had made when he chose Lee over Oswald. Oh dear God, the way he acted back then! The betrayal. It was like he was actively trying to rub it in Oswald's face how much he didn't love him, didn't need him, how happy he was with someone else in spite of him. 

I'm sometimes white, and always wrong. Can break a heart and hurt the strong. I can build love and tear it down. I can make you smile, but usually bring frown. What am I?  Riddler asked angrily in his head.

A lie.  All of that was a lie Ed was desperately trying to believe in. But with his attempts to convince himself, he had hurt Oswald much more than he realized. Not only his lies were bought, but they also multiplied Oswald's already severe insecurities, broke his fragile heart all over again. 

What have I done?

"No wonder Lionheart loves her too," Oswald lamented after a short pause. "And all I have is a friend who secretly despises me and an almost friend who hates me openly," his chuckle was more like a sob. 

Does he honestly believe Ed despises him? Why? He was about to ask when Oswald continued, getting more and more distressed. 

"Well, at least I got to wear both of their t-shirts. It's everything a pathetic, despicable freak like me can ever hope to get," he spat angrily.

"Oswald, you're not a… Wait, you said both? Is this Gordon's t-shirt? The... Lionheart's?" Penguin nodded meekly. "How do you know?" Riddler almost growled.

The man actually had the audacity to giggle. "Silly fake Ed. It's so obvious. It smells like his aftershave. Like something with a ship on the bottle."

What the hell?!  

Why does Oswald know what Gordon's aftershave smells like?  

Edward's whole being protested against that horrible fact, which didn't make it any less real. How in God's name did that moron weasel his way back into Oswald's heart? That pig doesn't deserve even to be looked at by the magnificent creature that is the Penguin! Why after everything he did, after every backstabbing and humiliation, he still gets his damn aftershave recognized by Oswald? 

You're the one to talk. How many times has Oswald forgiven our betrayals?  

We deserve his kindness no more than Gordon. I can't believe I even compare us to him. But when it comes to Oswald, both Jim and I treated him like dirt. It should never be forgiven. 

Yet here we are, alive and friends again. He still cares for Gordon, that much is clear. They were often cooperating during the war, even after that scumbag shot Oswald's already injured leg.  

Riddler's rage against Gordon started to boil anew. He wanted to go and stab him a dozen times right now in the middle of Captain's beloved GCPD. To gouge his blue eyes with his bare hands. To rip out his 'lion heart' and feed it to actual lions. 

But instead, Edward took a deep breath, unclenched his fists and willed himself to concentrate on the only person who mattered at this moment.

"Oswald, that doesn't explain why you think I would hate you. What reason would I have?" Ed couldn't understand; he needed to know for sure. He had a nagging inkling in the back of his head. Does Oswald have something to hide like that time with Isabella's murder? Did he do something behind Riddler's back again? Better to find out now while he's drugged and compliant.

Oswald gave a vague shrug with one shoulder. "You'd hate me if you knew I still love you." 

Oh dear. He still…? But how? It's impossible! After everything... 

Ed instantly felt guilty for his previous suspicion. And even more guilty for pulling that confession from drugged out of his mind Oswald. It wasn't fair, using his weakened state like that, especially when his friend was so determined to keep that a secret. But there's no way back now. 

"You think I'd hate you for loving me? Why?" 

Oswald sighed. "You'd know just how pathetic I am for being unable to get over it. You're so good at dealing with your emotions. And I'm powerless to control mine. Real Ed would despise me even more if he knew. He was so disgusted…" his trembling voice trailed off. Oswald sat hunched, head hanging low, quietly sobbing occasionally. Probably reminiscing that day when Ed tricked him into confessing his love. Edward recalled it too. Oswald looked so relieved and happy that he wasn't alone in his affections. Only to have his hopes crushed and his heart broken.

"Oswald… I want you to know that I don't despise you. I'm in awe of you. And I wouldn't hate you for loving me, I never did." The man may not remember this conversation later, but hopefully, he'll remember the feeling of reassurance, of not being alone. 

Oswald looked at him with a glassy eye and smiled. "You're so nice, fake Ed. I almost envy the real Ed now; he gets to talk to a friend like you all the time. He's never alone," he sobbed and tilted his body forward even more. "One more reason why he wouldn't care if I jump. Nobody would. I think I'll take my chances."

With that, he let go of the table and dived forward. Edward lunged to his friend and barely managed to catch him mid-fall, only his feet hit the floor. He was holding Penguin's limp body with both arms now, no resistance from the man. Oswald looked up and met Ed's eyes. He had almost vacant expression now. 

"Huh, you feel pretty real for a fake Ed. Guess you two had that in common too," he huffed and then let his head drop on Edward's shoulder. 

Riddler had to admit he had no idea what that meant. He was great at keeping up with Oswald's metaphors so far. But that last remark was a riddle he had no answer to. Not yet, at least. 

What he did have was an armful of Penguin's limp body. Edward pulled him up easily enough and laid him down on the table. He looked at his friend's sleeping face and silently replayed the conversation they've just had.

Is this what Oswald truly thinks deep inside? That nobody, not even Edward, would care if he was gone? But he seems fine on the outside. Does Oswald even realize the depth of his suffering? Or is he that good at hiding his depression? Walking and talking every day, pretending he's alright when in fact he's crumbling and almost ready to fall over the edge. And to think how much of Oswald's deep-seated insecurities were put there by none other than Ed himself. 

Oswald was severely damaged, almost broken by all the betrayals and heartbreaks he had suffered. Under his meticulously created persona of ruthless Penguin hides a very fragile, sensitive and lonely person. Beneath the layers of his expensive suits, under all that battle armor beats a bleeding heart, all bruised and battered, barely held together by rough stitches.

Ed observed the sleeping man's face. It was sickly pale with dried tear stains on the left side. Closed eyelids were red from crying, which was especially noticeable because of his lack of eye makeup today. Light freckles weren't covered by concealer and added even more vulnerability and uncharacteristic innocence to his relaxed expression. 

Edward was overwhelmed with tender feelings towards his injured feathered friend. He straightened a strand of black hair on Oswald's forehead: it was uncomfortably stuck under the bandage. 

"I love you, Oswald. And I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through. God, I'm such an ignorant idiot. Please, Oswald, please don't leave me. You are  not  alone."

Ed could've lost him. Of course, Penguin would never commit suicide literally; he's too strong and stubborn for that. But there are other ways to escape the constant heartache. Giving up on love altogether is one of them. Oswald could shut everyone out, tear stitches on his heart, let it bleed out and die so it would never be hurt again. Kill Oswald Cobblepot part of him and leave only truly heartless Penguin. Like he tried to before.

Edward remembered the way Penguin gazed at him right before letting Freeze put him in a block of ice. Cold, sharp eyes, devoid of any softness he used to bestow on Ed at every glance before everything went wrong. Only hollow disappointment was left in them to pierce Edward's soul and witness his downfall. A gaze of two icicles that chilled Riddler's insides even before Victor aimed his gun. 

Still, Oswald found his way back to himself, he had managed to find love in him and gave it to Martin. By some miracle, he even still loved Edward as it turns out. But constant blows from fate and people around Oswald could destroy his heart forever. 

Maybe that would be for the best.  Riddler mused. He appeared on the opposite side of Oswald's 'bed', mirroring Ed. 

"No, his heart is not only his weakness. It fills him with passion for everything he does. From climbing the steps of power to love or hatred," he reasoned aloud. 

Yeah, a lot of good it did to him.  He huffed a humorless chuckle.  Oswald wears his heart on his sleeve, which makes it too easy to break. If we care for him, shouldn't we help him reveal this better, stronger version of himself? Like he did for us when he broke your heart.

"His actions helped to reveal you, but we both know neither of us is better off alone. I mean, you almost killed Oswald for the second time when you were on your own. And you were too reckless. Your overconfidence made you predictable: the great Riddler got captured by the Court and played like a fiddle first by your 'allies' and later by Penguin alone."

Riddler scowled.  Well, and you alone were just worthless, stupid, and weak. Had to depend on the likes of Doc or Grundy. No wonder Oswald named a dog after you!  He pointed forefinger at Ed's face.  Because that's exactly what you were for your 'Queen of the Narrows': performed tricks for her amusement, desperate for your mistress's approval. Worst of all, allowed yourself to be fooled by Lee, and even managed to drag me into your idiotic delusion about feelings for her. How utterly pathetic! 

Ed only nodded at that, Riddler was right. "Precisely my point. We need each other. We are at our best when we work together. Same with Oswald and Penguin. They're even more inseparable than us. They are one and the same person. A person that we love and have almost destroyed."

Oh, stop it with self-reproach already. You can feel bad all you want, but it won't give us the answer to what to do next with this new information.

"Well, that much I thought was obvious. Even though we're not worthy of it, Oswald still loves us by some miracle. We love him. We can just tell him and be together, at last."

Should we though?

"Whatever do you mean?"

I mean, you said it yourself, love is a weakness. And you've seen it firsthand, as did Ozzie. Do you really think it would be wise to weaken him and us like this intentionally?

"I… Well... No?.. But he's hurting; we need to help him, show him he's not alone."

And we shall, have no doubt. Ozzie has our friendship, loyalty, and trust. And I will never let you throw that away for some pesky book-worm again,  he added sharply.

It all seemed logical. But something still didn't feel right.

"But didn't you want him too?" 

Of course, I did. Still do. But love is a sacrifice, again your words. Shouldn't we sacrifice those desires for Oswald to let him stay strong, unencumbered? 

"I didn't expect to hear it from you. You're a man of whim, you always take what you want, no matter the cost to others. What's the catch here?" 

Riddler only scoffed.  Yes, I'm an egoist, and would never sacrifice anything for anyone. Anyone but him.  He sighed and looked at the sleeping man with softness in his usually distant, calculating eyes.  I want him safe more than I want to have him. 

Ed thought this over. Even though Riddler might as well play some of his games right now, it didn't diminish the truth of his words. Both Edward and Riddler had broken Oswald's heart on several occasions and would do it again, even unintentionally. It's what they do: hurt and kill people closest to them. Oswald deserved better. Ed sighed deeply. 

"… You're right. Oswald suffered more than enough already. I don't deserve to have him, not after everything. I have to let him go because I love him."

Riddler sighed as well.  Well, at least we're on the same page here. Don't cry, Eddie. He'll be fine. He'll be better off without love. As will we. 

Ed huffed a chuckle. "You've changed. Isn't it the first time you do something for anyone but yourself?" 

Riddler grinned.  Nothing's changed, Eddie-boy. I do it for myself. I can't allow us to succumb to that weakness again. Besides, unlike you, I'm not as delusional as to think we won't cause the death of our fourth lover. As I told you, I want him safe. And I do what I want, as always.  He winked smugly and disappeared. 

Edward wiped away tears from his eyes. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Oswald's warm forehead for a few long moments. 

"I love you, Ozzie. And I promise to do everything in my power to protect you. At least from myself," he stroked sleeping man's cheek one last time. "I'll see you soon, my feathered friend." 

He left the room and went to find Lee and get Edward. He found them in his old lab, Barbara with the baby also here. The women were crooning over the child, apparently having just finished taking her measurements. 

"Oh, Edward, your human is here," Barbara chirped when she saw him approach. Riddler didn't dignify it with a retort and just took the dog's leash. 

"So, did he say anything coherent, Ed?" Lee inquired. 

"Yes, he's been perfectly clear except some easily understandable metaphors. I don't see how you could have a problem keeping up." 

"Maybe he just didn't mind you understanding him; you seem to be the only one he trusts," Lee shrugged. "Please tell me you didn't use your friend's drugged state to withdraw some information he wouldn't tell you otherwise?" she frowned. 

Ed felt another pang of guilt, and it must've shown on his face because Barbara grinned at him. 

"He sure did, such a naughty boy. So, what secrets did Pengy whisper to you? Did he tell how much he still loves you and you confessed your feelings too? Knowing he won't remember it. How cruel of you, Eddie." 

Were they both really so easy to read? That Barbara and Lee, who were not even their friends, saw right through them. It could be problematic. Edward felt anger starting to ignite inside of him.

"Are you actually that feeble-minded as to assume I'll tell you anything? And stop it with the whole 'love' nonsense. Oswald and I are friends. That's it." 

An incredulous look from Barbara and a sympathetic one from Lee irritated him even more. 

Lee sighed. "I have no clue why you both are being so stubborn. And honestly, it's not my business. But please try to get a hold on the situation. The last thing Gotham needs right now is two dangerous criminals waging war on each other again because they couldn't admit their feelings."

Riddler scoffed. "We'll do what we want. And I don't remember asking for relationship advice from either of you. You were right about one thing though: all of that is not your business. So stay out of it, both of you. For your own good." 

"Jeez, Nygma, take it easy. Believe me, nobody here wants to get mixed up in your boyfriend drama again," Barbara gave an exaggerated eye-roll. "Do take care of Edward though. I'd rather not listen to Ozzie whine after he kills you for losing his lovely puppy," she turned back to wrap her baby in blankets. 

Ed could only shake his head at that. "I'd better go back; he's a much better company, even in his sleep. How long till he wakes, Lee?"

"You don't have to stay and wait, Ed. He's under my protection here. And Jim's. Nobody will even try to come close, I promise you. I'll even leave him my office and won't move him to other patients as a bonus favor."

"Forgive me if I find it hard to believe. I can count at least twenty-four people in this building personally interested in seeing him dead. Your husband is the top three on that list. She's the top one," he pointed at Barbara, who just huffed. 

"Are you kidding? Jim had plenty of chances to get rid of Penguin and the other way around. Same with Barbara. But here we are, saving each other's lives left and right. I owe him my life, and I would prefer to repay that debt now rather than later." Lee glanced at her watch. "He'll be out for at least twelve hours if I assess his physical condition correctly. I'm pretty sure you have more important things to do. I'd suggest getting the rations; they've just arrived. You both seem to be half-starving, and you know your friend needs the energy to recover faster. Or you can go and get some sleep yourself; you look like a ghost," she eyed him up and down.

Edward still wasn't convinced. He glanced at the bulldog at his feet, almost hoping to get some advice from the pet. The only answer was panting and drooling. Wonderful. 

Lee sighed. "Look, do what you want, Ed, I'm not stopping you. But believe me when I say that I do realize you can be a dangerous enemy if you have a reason for revenge. It would be extremely stupid of me to provide you with that reason, wouldn't it?" she smirked and turned back to assist Barbara with the baby.

Ed contemplated her words and found them logical enough. Lee is far from stupid; she wouldn't kill Oswald or let others do it in such a blatant fashion. He decided to do something productive with this time.

Before he left the room, he noticed the two women speaking to each other in hushed voices and giggling like two schoolgirls over a new gossip. 

Since when those two are besties?  Riddler wondered as he was walking through the bullpen towards the exit.

Giving birth to a child in the middle of a warzone seems to be a particularly efficient bonding experience.

That, or sleeping with his holiness Jim Gordon gave them some common ground. Perhaps some poses to discuss or even some fantasies since all three of them get along so well now. 

That is disgusting. Did you absolutely  have to paint that picture in my brain?

Gotta use all I can to cover up other images you've conjured. You know, about Ozzie and us…

I know, shut up. Better stop thinking about it altogether.

Precisely, Eddie, well done. You're not totally dumb sometimes, eh?  Riddler cackled. 

Let's just focus on our task, shall we?

He did. The day flew by almost without Ed noticing it. Before he knew it, ten hours had passed since Oswald fell asleep. Lee said he'd be out for at least twelve, but Ed wanted to be there when his friend wakes up. It'll take an hour to get back to the station. He sat Edward in the back of the car and started the engine.

Chapter Text

When Riddler entered the GCPD building once more, he couldn't find any familiar face at first. The place was still jammed with the military, doctors, and lots of civilians looking for shelter or medical attention. Apparently, they've crawled out from every little hole of the ravaged city now, not only from the Green zone and its surroundings. Finally, he spotted Lee in the crowd; she was finishing wrapping a bandage over some guy's arm. Edward approached the woman.

"Lee. Is Oswald alright? I decided to come earlier."

She turned to him; a severe lack of rest and food evident in her exhausted face. "Good thing you did. He turned out to be much tougher than I anticipated and had already woken up more than half an hour ago."

"What? Where is he now?" Ed was devastated about letting his best friend down again. He failed to even be there for him in this hard time.

"Exactly where you left him. He was still dizzy from sedation when he started one of his tantrums about being put to sleep against his will. I did a checkup and let him stay there to be mad at me alone. I think I saw Jim on his way there some time ago though, so Penguin is probably even more pissed off now," she shrugged to indicate her utter lack of concern for Penguin's mood.

"You left him alone with Gordon?!"

Lee quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why not? I trust that my husband won't slaughter an unarmed, injured man, even though he probably wants to."

Riddler was fuming with fury as he stormed in the direction of the M.E. office. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Lee. How could he leave Oswald all vulnerable and helpless in the building full of their enemies? And now he's alone with that bastard, doing God knows what for almost half an hour already! What was Ed thinking?! 

He burst through the door and froze in place. He was expecting to see two corpses and blood splashed all over the walls in a worst-case scenario. Or at least witness loud shouts, and items being thrown around by his furious feathered friend. Somehow what he saw instead was even worse than anything he had imagined. 

Oswald was in a similar position to what he had found him earlier right after the operation — sitting on the table with disheveled hair and a bandage over his eye. Gordon's white t-shirt hanging loosely on Penguin's thin shoulders still did not cover his pale neck and elegantly shaped collarbones. Legs dangling over the edge of his seat didn't reach the floor, and hands rested calmly on his lap. 

Worst of all, Oswald was beaming at the policeman standing in front of him. He looked absolutely relaxed and comfortable. Gordon was towering over him with his broad frame and military posture and smiling back at Penguin. 

What the hell is going on here?!  

"... I'm sure you will, Jim. Good luck with that," Oswald chirped as he was looking up and shamelessly batting his long eyelashes at the bastard. They both didn't even spare a glance in Ed's direction!

Riddler cleared throat pointedly to get their attention and stop this madness. 

"Hey, Ed, didn't expect you to come earlier. And you brought Edward, thank you! How are you, my beautiful boy?" Oswald grinned even wider when he saw his puppy yawning and slouching lazily next to Riddler's feet. 

Gordon's smile faded as he looked at Ed. "Nygma, you came back."

"Great job stating the obvious, Jimbo. Did you think I would leave Oswald alone in your company for too long?" Riddler bristled. He didn't even care how possessive or unreasonably riled up he sounded. 

Gordon raised his eyebrows and sighed. "I'll leave you two. Get well, Oswald," he patted Penguin's shoulder in a friendly manner. 

Too friendly for my liking. How dare he see Penguin in such a vulnerable state. And wearing his t-shirt! We should just kill him right now.  Riddler suggested spitefully. 

Ed ached to oblige but resisted the urge and allowed Jim to walk past him to the door freely, killing the cop with his glare instead. Oswald watched the scene with bewilderment and seemed at a loss, tilting his head adorably, akin to a real bird with sleep-ruffled black feathers. And that pig observed and touched Riddler's soft bird like he had any right to!

"Leaving us alone is what you do best!" Riddler spat before the door closed after Gordon. Blinding fury still overwhelmed him each time he recalled every worthless GCPD swine leaving injured Oswald to die yesterday.

Edward willed himself to take a deep breath and calm down. The feeling was too much like when he saw that lunatic with the dummy Penn straddling Penguin shamelessly. If Gordon stayed here for a few more minutes, Riddler might've just slaughtered him. Consequences be damned. 

We'll let him live for now. We just won't let him get close to Oswald. 

We sure as hell won't. We need to keep Ozzie safe exactly from people like Gordon, who would use him and throw him away with a broken heart. 

Ed sighed. Yes, Oswald may never be ours, but that doesn't mean we'll let just anyone have him. 

Nobody will have him at all. 

Now that's just mean. Oswald deserves to be happy and openly loved. 

He can be happy without love. He has our friendship; he's not alone.  

Let's agree to disagree. I'm not gonna stay in the way of his feelings if they are towards someone worthy of it. 

And who would that be? Ed could hear venom dripping from Riddler's tongue. 

Nobody, not yet. He might meet someone. 

And that someone would still be not worthy. I won't let some pesky nincompoop take my Penguin. I'd rather kill them all for his own good like he killed that librarian for us.

"Shut up…" Ed muttered under his breath. 

Oswald squinted at him with concern. 

"Ed? Is everything alright?" he asked carefully. 

"Right as rain," Ed shook his head and smiled with what he hoped looked like reassurance. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

"It's quite alright, you're here now, and that's what matters," Oswald shrugged and carefully got down from the table. Ed resisted the urge to support the bird when he staggered a little on unsteady legs. "Jim kept me company after Lee lost her patience," he huffed a chuckle. 

"You seem to have enjoyed that company quite a lot. What did you two talk about?" Riddler demanded, adjusting his glasses sharply. 

Oswald glanced at him incredulously and quirked an eyebrow. After a few moments, he decided to answer. 

"This and that. I tried to negotiate our full pardon, not sure if it worked yet. Then we moved on to other things like rebuilding the city and all," he furrowed his brows. "Why are you so disgruntled? What happened?" 

"Nothing," Ed answered quickly. Oswald didn't seem convinced but thankfully didn't pry further. Ed wouldn't know how to explain that display of jealousy and possessiveness without giving up his true feelings. And that's simply not an option. 

"How are you feeling? Ready to leave?" he changed the topic before silence got awkward. 

"Yes, I'm good enough. Just let me change back to my clothes," Oswald said and started to tug the bloodied t-shirt over his head. 

Ed watched how Oswald's narrow waist and flat stomach became visible inch by inch. Gradually his eyes studied Penguin's protruding ribs and light-brown nipples on hairless chest. Edward took in all the scars scattered all over the thin pale body. His gaze stopped on one in the top of Oswald's abdomen, mere inches below where his heart is beating. The scar Ed's bullet left. It was big and rugged; the wound hadn't even been stitched properly by whoever helped Penguin survive. Ivy, was it? The scar tissue wasn't the natural whitish color either; instead, it had a light-green hint to it, not too stark but noticeable on the surrounding smooth white skin. Breathing suddenly became difficult for Ed because of unbearable tightness in his chest from memories of that fateful day, and the weight of guilt they brought back to the surface. 

He was drawn from regretful thoughts by Oswald clearing his throat softly. Ed felt a blush spreading on his face as he realized he'd been staring at his friend's naked upper body for a while despite the plain fact that he was supposed to leave the room or at least turn away to give Oswald some privacy. 

Edward felt embarrassed like a kid caught watching grown-ups kiss. He was looking for some way to fix this awkwardness but got saved by Oswald turning around to pick up his shirt. At the last moment, Ed noticed his friend's face was a bit redder than usual. 

Ed knew he should look away, but he couldn't. Oswald's back was also riddled with scars. Before his friend put his silky white shirt on, Ed noticed there was no scar from the exit wound of his shot. So the bullet got stuck inside this delicate body and had to be dug out by a person clearly without any medical knowledge and probably without proper equipment. Edward felt bile rising in his throat as he imagined the amount of pain his dear friend had to suffer because of him. 

"Did… Did it hurt too much?" he asked, voice weak and barely above a whisper. 

Oswald turned back to face Ed. He finished buttoning the shirt and began fastening his tie. 

"I'm not sure, to be honest. Thankfully, I don't remember much at all; Lee gave me a powerful dose," Ed was actually relieved that Oswald misunderstood his question. "I also had some weird hallucinations to distract me." 

Oh, crud.  

Ed's heart dropped. What if Oswald remembers their conversation? What if he finds out how Ed dishonorably pulled his drug-induced confession out of him? 

"What do you remember seeing?" he tried to keep his tone steady. 

"Not much at all. Everything's like a distant bad dream. Just separate odd images, nothing makes sense, and it's probably for the best." Ed released the breath he was holding. Oswald chuckled, "I think I saw Maid Marian from the old Robin Hood series my mother and I used to watch on TV." 

Ed huffed a laugh, "Yeah, that is weird." He decided not to mention it was Lee who got turned into a fictional character by his friend's drugged mind. 

Oswald put his waistcoat and jacket on. When he was done with buttons and cufflinks, he straightened his clothes and fixed his hair as well as he could without a mirror. 

"I suppose I'll go talk to Jim and demand some rations for us. Don't know about you, Ed, but I'm famished. And Edward hadn't eaten proper food for months." 

"By proper food for Edward you mean some grade-A stakes?" 

"Of course, at least that," Oswald nodded with absolute seriousness. He picked the dog from the floor and kissed the top of its plushy head. 

Ed huffed a chuckle. "Well, sorry to disappoint Edward, but he'll have to wait a bit for that kind of treats. But guess what? You don't need to ask Gordon for anything. Let's just get out of here," he winked and went back through the door confidently. Oswald followed closely behind with bulldog in his arms. 

"You procured us some food?" he asked, voice full of hope. 

"I didn't leave you here alone for no reason, Oswald. I'm still surprised you're not mad at me for that." They were walking side by side now, with Ed subtly correcting Oswald's movements lest he bumped into something or someone. 

Penguin huffed. "Well, I was when I woke up. Not anymore. Where are we going?" he asked when they got out of the precinct and into the crowded street. 

"It's a surprise!" Ed said with a grin and opened the car door for Oswald still carrying Edward in his arms. 

"I'm not a fan of surprises," Penguin muttered. 

"It's a good one, I promise." 

Oswald sighed and offered a weak smile. "Fine, I suppose. If it leads to some food, you can take me anywhere, my friend." 

They drove in comfortable silence. Not even ten minutes into the drive Oswald nodded off; bulldog in his lap did the same. Ed's lips stretched into a smile against his will whenever he glanced at the peaceful picture. He almost wished he didn't have to wake them up when he parked the car. Alas, the bird is still hungry, so Ed called him quietly and patted his arm. 

"Hm? We there already?" Oswald rubbed his eye, looked around, and squinted at Ed with suspicion. 

"Ed? Why did you bring us to the mansion? Sorry to disappoint, but it was probably dismantled completely during this year. I didn't have a chance to protect it," he said with a sigh. 

Edward got out of the car and opened the door for Oswald. "It was looted, but thankfully it's far enough from the city and wasn't in too bad shape." 

"You were right, Ed, I'm starting to like this surprise," Oswald said as they walked to the front door of the Van Dahl mansion. His limp was more pronounced than usual, and he didn't hold Edward anymore, leading him by the leash instead. 

"Welcome back home," Ed announced as he gracefully opened the door for them. 

Oswald's bright smile was worth every effort, his amused chuckle echoing in Ed's raised heartbeat. However, that smile faded when they both heard an unmistakable click of a shotgun. They turned to the sound and were faced with a suspicious-looking Olga aiming at their faces. She lowered the gun as soon as she recognized the intruders. 

"Olga?" Oswald seemed to be relieved and irritated simultaneously. "What are you doing here? Do you even know how to use that thing?" he pointed at the shotgun. 

"Nyet," Olga's voice was stern as always. "Door lock not working. He call and I go help clean house," she nodded at Ed. 

Oswald was speechless, just stared from her to Ed in bewilderment. Ed smiled and softly nudged him forward. 

"Come see for yourself: the mansion is in good enough state. There was a dead body right at the entrance. Presumably, it kept the most nervous looters from trespassing." 

Olga left in the direction of the kitchen, muttering something in Russian. 

The living room was filled with warmth and light from the big fireplace, flames lazily licking at the wood. The couch and armchairs were covered with clean blankets; it'll have to do until they're replaced or thoroughly cleaned. Some chairs were broken, and debris placed next to the wall for later use as firewood. The floors were cleaned, and all cobwebs removed from the corners. The chemical scent of cleaning products was prominent but not unpleasant. 

Oswald let Edward from his leash, and the dog waddled straight to the heap of blankets Ed had prepared for him next to the hearth. Oswald beamed happily at the adorable scene of bulldog sniffing it a few times and collapsing into the soft bed. Again, totally worth it. 

They stopped in the library. Luckily, most of Oswald's father's collection of books had survived. Most furniture didn't, but it will be relatively easy to replace. A lot of books were stacked on the floor, their bookshelves destroyed by whoever raided the place. The room was softly illuminated by a few candles and the fireplace a bit smaller than one in the living room. 

"I… I don't know how to thank you, Ed," Oswald murmured as he noted that all of his ancestor's portraits remained intact if a bit dusty. 

"A simple 'thank you' will suffice," Ed smiled, warmth coiling in his chest. 

"Thank you, Edward. It means so much to me," he said earnestly. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. 

Ed was overwhelmed with the irresistible urge to come closer and hug this adorable bird. He stepped forward, entranced by the lights dancing in the green ocean of Oswald's eye. The man stared at Ed, seeming equally captivated by the shifted air between them. He was looking at Edward with the same open adoration and honest unveiled emotions like he did on that couch in the living room all that time ago, after the Butch incident. For a moment, Ed thought he could taste the ginger and honey on his tongue, scent Oswald's rich cologne enveloping him in a cocoon of safety, hear the soft shuffling of hand-crafted dressing gown Oswald tucked him into, and feel solid warmth of his friend's body embracing him in more ways than just physical. 

Both men seemed to hold their breath, trying not to ruin this fragile tether created by their eyes, which was drawing them closer, closer, closer. So close now that Ed could feel Oswald's warm breath on his chin and neck. Very slowly he lifted his hands, ghosting them over his friend's lower arms, nearly touching but not quite sure if he should, or could. His gaze shifted from the magical pale green eye to the smooth pink lips. They were slightly parted, so soft and inviting...

"Uzhin gotov!" Olga's sharp voice from the hall made them jump from each other, literally. Both men looked startled; their bubble burst suddenly. Their eyes met, and both looked away instantly like they got burned.

Ed took a deep breath, straightened his back, and suggested with a polite smile. "Let's go eat, Oswald. You can check upstairs later; it's supposed to be a bit better than here. The stairs were blocked, no idea why." 

Oswald only nodded and went in front of him. 

Do you realize we almost kissed him just now?  

No shit, Sherlock. You should write Olga a thank you note for stopping that disaster from happening.  

Why didn't you stop it?  Ed barely kept himself from screaming it aloud. 

Simple: I didn't want to.  Ed didn't see Riddler's image, but he could hear him grinning.  The bird looked too alluring, those smooth lips, feather hair, delicate white neck… God... 

I thought we agreed to keep our feelings secret, be just a friend to Oswald. In fact,  you insisted on it. What were you thinking?! 

Well, it's like you said — I'm a man of whim and do what I want. And back there I wanted to kiss Ozzie. Simple as that. It didn't need to be anything more than just a kiss, no feelings besides physical.  

For you, perhaps. But not for Oswald, and you know it. I don't want to lead him on.

Oooh look at you, all fluent in human feelings all of a sudden, are you, Eddie boy?  Followed by his loud cackling.  Fine, do as you like. But don't count on me stopping you from getting our hands on the sweet hot birdie. 

I'll handle it. I don't deserve him; it must never happen again.  

They reached the dining room. The table was already set for two. The setting was ridiculously poor compared to what they were used to before. The main — and only — course was chicken noodles with toasts. They didn't even have vegetables for a proper dish, and it wasn't real chicken but a set of chicken-flavored condiments. Nevertheless, Oswald's stomach grumbled a little as they sat and breathed in the best Olga could make with severely limited ingredients. 

Instead of the usual silverware they had to use plastic cutlery, everything remotely valuable had been stolen during the year. However, neither of the men minded as both started to devour the contents of their plates ravenously. They didn't even speak until initial hunger was sated and they could finish the rest at a slower pace. 

"I have no idea how you managed to find Olga and persuade her to come here, but I'm so glad you did," Oswald sighed with a sated smile. He told Ed some time ago that Olga had fled the City hall when Penguin was taken by military and police.

"Finding her wasn't hard: she was among other refugees. Persuading… Well, let's just say that I now know at least a few more swear words in Russian. Namely 'idi nahui' and 'mudak'," Ed frowned. That was not a pleasant conversation he had with the woman today. Even less pleasant drive to the mansion in awkward heavy silence under her accusing glares. She appeared to still hold a grudge on him for betraying Oswald and everything after that. Ed couldn't blame her.

Oswald laughed. "I often used to be a target of those and other words during the short time I spent working with the Russian mob back in the days. I'm sure Olga didn't mean it though. She was just being careful." 

"Sure, no hard feelings. Especially since it only took me mentioning your name to get her reluctant attention." 

"Olga is loyal and too stubborn to let others define her opinion. You were wise to call her; we'll need people we can trust aside from each other." 

Ed was pleased to hear another confirmation that he was trusted. Well, now seems to be as good a time as ever for the hard question. 

"Oswald, there is something I've been meaning to ask you..." Ed hesitated, not sure how to choose the most polite and appropriate words for his request. 

"Alright, Ed, I'm listening," Oswald didn't seem to notice the uncertainty as he finished his remaining food. Edward sighed; here goes nothing. 

"Uhm... I was wondering if you would be amenable to allow me to... well, to stay here for a while," he muttered, trying to keep his tone steady, his gaze locked on the knot of Penguin's tie, not daring to try direct eye contact. Oswald furrowed his brows and stared at Ed with profound confusion. 

Oh no, he's gonna make me leave! Of course, he is! He might love me still, but I don't deserve this place anymore; I ruined every good memory we had here, stained everything with Oswald's blood... 

"I mean not for long, of course, just until I find some hideout instead of the library since it…" his rattling trailed off because Oswald started to giggle. 

"You're joking, right?" it was Ed's turn to furrow brows and tilt his head questioningly, finally daring to meet his gaze. "Oh, God, you are serious." 

Oswald stopped smiling and put his plastic cutlery down. He turned fully to face Ed and spoke, not breaking eye contact. 

"Edward, you don't ever need to ask that. My home is your home. And not just for a while. For as long as you want to stay, I'll be delighted to share it with you," he emphasized by patting Ed's hand gently. The touch was short, but it warmed Edward's heart almost as much as Oswald's words did. "You always have a home here with me." 

Home. 

Ed felt a shiver running through his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The feeling then settled as a pleasant warmth in his stomach that had absolutely nothing to do with the food he ate minutes ago. 

Oswald has just said that Ed has a home. He was definitely not talking about just this mansion: even Edward, with his lacking skill of reading people, could see as much.

Come to think of it, he never actually had a place he could confidently consider home before. Not really. 

Certainly not during his childhood. His parent's house was even less of a home than a local library he used to sneak into at night. It was everything opposite to what a home should be. It was dangerous, lonely, suffocating. 

The loft on Grundy Street with a green neon sign outside was just a place to sleep and work on side projects. He rented it since he entered Gotham University and up until the point when he went to Arkham. The place started to resemble a home only when the wounded bird was living there, recovering from his injuries. Waiting for Ed in the evenings and pestering him with phone calls during the days. But that time was cut too short, and Oswald had been a rather insufferable roommate, albeit pretty endearing at times. 

He was a perfect host, though. Oswald did everything possible to make Edward feel at home in this mansion during the mayoral campaign and after. And Ed did. At first, he couldn't help but feel like he was intruding in this big old house with luxurious rooms, especially in contrast to cold Arkham devoid of any personal space. But Oswald had been so considerate, that it didn't take Ed long to relax and feel like he belonged there. It felt like home. All their meals and evenings spent together in friendly conversations and planning the future of the city. On some days he couldn't wait to get back home, to see his dear friend in an informal setting outside of their offices in the City hall. That was before he met Isabella. Before that one week had destroyed his home and friendship. 

Narrows never felt like home. Try as he might, Edward couldn't see the exact reason why. It wasn't the poor conditions. It wasn't even the people there: alcoholics, junkies, cheap prostitutes, thieves. All of them would gladly slit the throat of anyone if it meant getting some cash for another dose. Not the most pleasant company but they were outside of his one-room apartment. It was the emptiness he felt inside of it. Lee couldn't ever compare to Oswald in terms of being a fitting company for Ed. Yes, she was witty and funny and gorgeous, but something was amiss. 

He didn't see it back then. Couldn't allow himself to see it. He can see it now and be honest about it. 

Oswald was his home. 

Only in his company Ed could be himself and not be alone. He felt safe and loved with this man. That's what home was for Edward. And Oswald has just promised to provide a sanctuary for him whenever he needs it. It was somehow even more significant than a love confession to Ed. More sacred and more intimate. 

There was no way Ed could ever put into words all the spectrum of emotions he was experiencing. At the very least, he had to try and show it with action. Riddler put down his cutlery, slowly rose from his chair, and stepped closer to his stunned friend. Not paying attention to Oswald's gasp of surprise, Ed leaned down and wrapped him in his arms. 

"Thank you, Oswald," he quietly rasped in soft feathery hair. 

After a moment, Oswald relaxed in his embrace and returned the hug. 

"You're always welcome, my friend," he murmured back. 

Edward subtly wiped a tear that escaped his eye before pulling back. It wouldn't do for the great Riddler to show any more weakness than he already had, even though Oswald was the only person Ed trusted enough for that. 

Still, he straightened his back and asked with a bright smile: "I take you by night, by day take you back. None suffer to have me but do from my lack. What am I?" 

Oswald hummed and found the answer quite quickly. "Sleep! And you're absolutely right, Edward. This was a hard day, for you especially since yours began yesterday morning. You should get some proper rest for once. Feel free to claim your old room here. Or any other, if you wish." 

"The old one would be perfect."

Oswald rose up, and they went towards the stairs, leaving empty plates for Olga to clean. 

"I'm not sure what state your bedroom is in. Olga wouldn't let me in there to help. I think she hates me even more nowadays," Ed frowned.

"I'm surprised she let you help her at all. She's usually very territorial about her work." 

"Guess she didn't have much of a choice: there wasn't enough time to clean the whole mansion alone. And I spent a lot of it disposing of the body." 

They entered the master bedroom. It was surprisingly intact, almost untouched by the looters. The only signs of invasion being a broken chair and a broken mirror on the nightstand. The bed was freshly made with a fluffy indigo duvet covering it, and the array of candles softly lit the room in lieu of electricity. No cobwebs or dust anywhere. 

"She did an excellent job, I'm impressed," Ed had to admit. 

"Only the best work for me for so long and survive," Oswald agreed smugly. "Let's go see if your room is in proper condition."

"Doubt it. I can take the couch; it's not a big deal." 

They entered his old room, and Ed froze on the spot, shocked. The place was cleaned as thoroughly as the master bedroom. Flames of candles danced slowly, reflecting subtly on the silky green covers of the freshly prepared bed. 

Oswald chuckled at his dumbfounded expression. "See? She doesn't actually hate you. And nobody in this house even thought of a possibility that I might deny you and turn you away," he huffed, shaking his head.

"Huh," was all Ed could say right now. 

When Oswald started to turn to leave, he remembered, "Oswald, Lee gave me your medication. Take one pill from this box before going to sleep and two pills from this before breakfast tomorrow," he pulled two pillboxes from his jacket pocket. 

"Is this really necessary?" Oswald frowned. 

"It is unless you want to give chances to the infection." 

"Fine," he accepted the pills with a dramatic sigh. "Thank you, Edward. Have a good night." 

"You too, Oswald." 

They exchanged small smiles, and Oswald left the room. 

All the events from the past two restless days took their toll on Riddler. He barely made it through the quick shower, put on his pajamas — also brought to the room by Olga — and slumped down on the soft mattress. 

As he closed his eyes, he noted that it's the first time he sleeps in this bed since his time as Oswald's Chief of staff. After the docks, he tended to doze off on the couch in the living room, when his sleep-deprived body refused to function any longer. Edward never believed ghosts to be real, but during those days he couldn't help but feel judgmental looks of Oswald's ancestors from their portraits. Even the fact that he returned Elijah Van Dahl's remains back to his grave didn't reduce the weight of guilt for murdering his beloved son. 

Ed had mixed feelings about being back here in this room. He felt like he didn't deserve it; like he was intruding and abusing Oswald's trust. Rationally he knew that wasn't true. But it didn't stop the flood of memories this place brought back. He could almost hear the gunshot and see crimson blood flowing through his friend's trembling fingers, as he drifted to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Oswald couldn't fall asleep. Try as he might, his body was too well-rested after sedation and a nap in the car. The hot bath helped him to relax but did nothing to bring him even remotely close to sleepiness. Distant throbbing pain in his bad eye didn't help either. 

He still couldn't wrap his head around everything Ed did for him. He was so caring and thoughtful, even restored the mansion as well as he could between helping Oswald with the injury and getting them food. And what was Edward going to do back there in the library hadn't Olga distracted them with dinner? Was Ed going to hug him? Or?... No, better to not even consider it. Hope can be a cruel weapon; he got hurt by it too many times already. 

Oswald sighed deeply and turned to the other side. It was even worse: his soft pillow didn't prevent discomfort from the pressure on his right eye. He got up with a groan. No use wasting time in bed if he couldn't sleep anyway. He decided to go down to the library and pick a book to read. That might lull him. 

As soon as he opened the door, he heard muffled noise coming from Ed's room on the opposite side of the hallway. Oswald strained his ears. Only a few moments later the sound repeated, it was Edward's sleepy mumbling of 'no, please, no'. He's having a nightmare. 

Ed used to suffer them quite often right after he was brought here from Arkham. Whenever Oswald heard it, he used to come to Edward's room and comfort him until he would go back to sleep again. Ed did the same for him when Oswald called for his mother after Galavan had her killed or when tortures he suffered at the hands of Professor Strange resurfaced in his dreams. 

But all that was before the whole Isabelle thing. Would it be appropriate for him to do the same now? He stood still while contemplating his dilemma when he heard a muffled plea 'Ozzie' from the other room. That settled it; he should at least wake his friend up. 

Oswald knocked on Ed's door for good measure. As expected, it didn't wake him. Nightmares always grasped him tighter than normal sleep. Oswald opened the door and approached his friend's form. 

Ed was visibly trembling, covers bound his body tightly so he couldn't move much and it probably made whatever he saw even worse. His brow was furrowed and dim candlelight reflected in the beads of sweat on his temples. 

"Edward," Oswald called quietly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully brushed curled strands of hair from his friend's clammy forehead. "Ed, it's just a bad dream. You're safe here. You need to wake up." 

He kept murmuring words of comfort to his friend and slowly stroking his arm through the covers. It seemed to calm Ed down just a bit; at least he stopped thrashing so hard. 

"Oz… 'm sorry…" he slurred still deep in his nightmare. 

Oswald wondered what Ed might apologize for. Was he still feeling guilty about the grenade? Doesn't really matter right now. 

"It's okay, Eddie. I forgive you," and he meant it. Whatever it was, Oswald has forgiven Edward for everything that happened in the past. "Please wake up now. It's only a dream." 

He squeezed Edward's hand through the covers a little bit, and that finally got him out. With a sharp inhale Ed opened his eyes wide and laid there blinking at the ceiling for a few seconds before looking around. 

"Oswald?" Edward whispered as he focused his gaze on him. Breathing still uneven, he squeezed Oswald's hand back to ground himself. "Did I wake you?" 

"No, I couldn't sleep. Heard you having a nightmare and decided to help you wake up." 

"Thank you," he croaked. 

Oswald was relieved. He wasn't sure how Edward would react to his intrusion. 

"No problems, my friend. Are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?" Oswald asked, genuinely concerned and also curious as to why his name was called at least twice during the nightmare. Sometimes in the past, Ed would describe what he saw. Usually, it helped him process it. 

"No. Not yet," Ed answered and pulled his other hand from the covers to wipe sweat from his forehead. His breathing was steadier now. 

Oswald still feared he was intruding Ed's personal space too much; like he was unwanted here. 

"Alright, I'll leave you to rest then. Goodnight, Ed," he tried to dislodge his hand and get up but was stopped by Edward's more firm grasp now. 

"Wait…" Oswald eased back and waited for Ed to find his words. "Could you stay here?" Edward asked, not looking him in the eyes. "If it's okay," he added, barely audible. 

How could Oswald deny him anything? He smiled, relieved that his company wasn't unpleasant after all. 

"Sure, Ed. Scoot over," he waited for Edward to shuffle farther on the bed and sat next to him, back to the headboard and one of the pillows behind his waist. Ed laid curled on his side facing Oswald.

It was their customary position for late-night comforting each other after a bad dream, nothing new for them, only return to old habits. They both were damaged people, and the horrors they have survived tended to come back and haunt them at night. Two friends sought refuge and peace in the company of each other, discovering that simply being close was enough to chase nightmares away. Although usually, Oswald would also slowly comb his fingers through Edward's hair, it was one of the best ways to bring him peace of mind. Oswald wasn't sure it would be welcome now though. He hovered one hand over his friend's head for a few seconds but decided against it and placed it in his lap. 

"I'm not contagious, you know," Ed huffed sleepily. Cheeky bastard. 

Oswald chuckled, "I sure hope so," and put his hand on top of Edward's head. 

He gently caressed him for a while and then ran his fingers through the slightly damp curls, just like he knew Edward liked. Maybe it was his imagination, but Oswald thought Ed even leaned into the touch a little. He definitely didn't imagine his friend's content sigh and a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Oswald smiled too. It felt nice to have their little ritual fully restored. Of course, he didn't like the cause of it; he would prefer Edward never to have nightmares. Still, he was glad they managed to return to this level of trust. 

His steady repetitive movements worked as good as expected, and within only a few minutes Oswald could see and feel his friend relaxing, his breathing deepening. Penguin rested his head on the headboard and enjoyed the comfortable silence, this pure feeling of tranquility he never expected to return in their relationship. 

Oswald was so happy that despite all the hatred some things have stayed sacred and untouched by the war between them. Things like this mutual help in coping with nightmares, or their singing together, or personal secrets and tales they shared. Neither of them had brought up these moments of vulnerability once, pretending to be spiteful acquaintances instead of hurt best friends. 

Even when Ed tried to destroy Oswald's world, he used his father's memory against him. Never his mother's. Because her memory too, was sacred. It was one of the first threads that had bound them together. Entwined deep in their relationship in the form of all stories Oswald had told Edward, her lullaby they sang along, and the lilies Ed had been bringing to her grave while Penguin was in Arkham. 

This intimate personal connection between them was never targeted by anyone, even in their darkest hours. That's probably what saved them both in the end. 

Oswald was so deep in thought he lost track of time. His serene meditation was interrupted by a very quiet muffled sob that escaped his friend. Only then did Oswald notice Edward's shoulders were shaking ever so slightly; he was obviously trying to stop himself from crying, but seemed to have lost this fight. 

Ed was the kind of person who tried never to show their tears to anyone; he had some ingrained notion they were a shameful sign of weakness. Oswald wasn't sure it was his place to try and help, but he couldn't just pretend not to notice his best friend silently sobbing right next to him. 

"Ed?" he whispered as softly as he could. 

Edward's defenses seemed to have broken down completely as he started to weep uncontrollably. He curled in on himself, pulling his long legs close to the chest. He buried his face in his hands and could barely draw breaths because of hectic sobbing. 

Oswald's heart ached from seeing his beautiful friend so broken down by whatever he saw in his dreams. Oswald stopped stroking silky hair and just rested one of his hands on Ed's head to ground him and try to convey all his support and care. The other one he placed on Edward's shoulder and from there started to rub big soothing circles into his back as far as he could reach. 

"Shh, it's alright, Eddie. It was just a nightmare. Whatever you saw isn't real. You are safe. You're home now," he tried to comfort his friend as best as he could, but it seemed only to make the sobbing worse. 

He needed a different approach. Something logical, perhaps.

"Maybe telling me about what you saw there would help you deal with it. What do you think? It always did," he tried to sound reassuring and reasonable even though inside he was ready to burst into tears himself from the pain he felt at seeing Ed in a state like this. 

"Y-you… I s-saw you," came a croaked answer from behind Edward's hands. He continued after another sob, "At the d-docks." 

Oh, God. Of all their events at the fateful docks, only one ended tragically for Ed. 

Oswald's hands trembled and stopped. He suddenly felt freezing in this well-heated room. Like a beam from Victor's gun put him in icy prison now, not Riddler. 

This was all Oswald's fault from the very start. And now his best friend had a mental breakdown because his nightmare reminded him of the moment when he lost his fight to the Penguin. 

That's why he said 'sorry' in his sleep. Edward probably would've tried to apologize back then, but Oswald denied him the chance and put him in the ice instead. Granted, Riddler did try to kill him again, but it was only due to his obsessive compulsion, he couldn't stop himself. Not on his own. 

And Oswald knew it, knew he could've helped his friend focus on something else, direct his logic away from that manic need. If only he had bothered to give Ed another chance, ask Ivy to question him with her perfume perhaps, settle it differently than intentionally baiting him on that cursed pier again. But he didn't. Penguin was too lost in his own pain and vengeance to allow himself to care. And that had doomed his dear friend, robbed him of what he held most dear. Apparently, it still gave him nightmares. The weight of guilt for that has never crushed Oswald as much as it did now. 

Penguin withdrew his hands from his friend's sobbing frame. He was a monster and had no right to touch the person he had hurt so deeply. He wrapped them around his own middle instead, trying to shield from the biting chills. It didn't help. 

"Edward. I'm so, so sorry about that. I was a coward and an idiot. Too afraid to let you go and too stupid to ask Freeze about possible side-effects," he mumbled over the lump in his throat. 

"W-what?" Ed sobbed. 

"I'm not looking for excuses. What I did is unforgivable. But I swear to you I will never betray you again. I'd rather die than put your life at risk because of my cowardice once more," Oswald finished with full certainty. He angrily wiped a tear that escaped his eye. 

"N-no. Not that d-day. When I... oh God..." a sob. "When I sh-shot you," Edward stuttered barely audible. 

"What?" it was Oswald's turn to be surprised. "I... I don't understand, Ed." 

Edward took a shuddering sigh and muttered between the sobs, "I k-killed you. Again. The shot, your b-blood.. You d-died in my arms.. I killed you again... Oh God, I'm so s-sorry Oswald. I t-tried to stop b-but couldn't. I sh-shot you... I  lost  you again!" 

Oswald was stunned by that revelation. He never even suspected Ed might feel regretful about that. Or was it just a recent near-death experience laid on top of the past events and made worse by his vivid imagination? No way to say for sure, dreams are always weird. 

Oswald still had nightmares about that disastrous morning himself. Pain from the gunshot mixed with pain from 'I don't love you' stated by Ed with deadly cold certainty. It always made him wake up in agony and tears, gasping for air and scratching at his scar, trying to hold the blood inside. Usually, after such dreams, he couldn't fall asleep alone in his big bed again for the rest of the night. 

The reason for Edward's nightmare is not essential right now, though, only his condition matters. Oswald needs to use a different approach, a more blunt reassurance. 

"Ed, please look at me," Edward predictably refused by rapidly shaking his head still buried in his palms. "Whenever you're ready. I'll wait, it's okay," Oswald said patiently like he was trying to appease a scared wild animal. 

As expected, the sobs gradually reduced soon. Even in this state, Edward's innate curiosity was bound to take the upper hand and overcome his distress. Oswald subtly smiled to himself, amused by his friend's adorable nature. 

When Ed could no longer ignore his piqued interest in what Oswald wanted to show or tell, he wiped his tears on the corner of the comforter, took a steadying breath and slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. He rubbed his face again with the sleeves of his pajamas and finally turned to face Oswald. 

"There you are," Oswald said with a small smile. Ed managed only a slight nod in response. His eyes were red from crying, hair an unruly mess of dark curls. Oswald's heart painfully clenched at that sight. He had to fix this. 

"Edward, I need you to hear me. Right now, in this present moment, I'm sitting next to you in your room, on your bed. We both are safe here. I am alive and well. You did not kill me, not then and certainly not now," he was glad to see the spark of familiar calm logic in Ed's eyes. 

Of course, Oswald knew that if Edward truly wanted to kill him that day, he would've aimed for the head or the heart. Not below it and narrowly — some could say surgically — avoiding all vital organs. That just doesn't happen accidentally, especially with a brilliant forensic scientist. But he decided against pointing that out to Riddler and risking reopening some old wounds. 

"We've both come this far, and we are friends now. Right?" he waited for Edward to nod. "Right. And if that wasn't obvious already, I forgive you, Ed. For everything." 

Ed inhaled sharply, his lower lip trembled and a few more tears spilled from his eyes. He suddenly seemed to be on the edge of another breakdown. Oswald started to inwardly curse himself and look for other words when Ed shook his head vigorously. 

"N-no. I don't deserve it," he punctuated it with another shake of his head, not meeting his eyes. 

Oswald's heart melted even more. It was physically painful how desperately he wanted to show Edward how much he was truly loved, cherished, and adored, how much happiness he deserved. Kiss his tears away and protect him from any horrors this and other nights might bring. Alas, it was not Penguin's place to do that. All he was allowed were friendly, brotherly gestures. And, honestly, he was grateful even for that opportunity; more than happy to be there for Ed at least in that role. 

He huffed, "Come here," and opened his arms in the invitation to a hug. Ed hesitated for a moment but then shuffled towards him and hugged back. 

They weren't pressed too close because of the awkward angle. But it was enough for Oswald to hide his smile in Ed's shoulder. Amusing how this sweet man now claims he doesn't deserve something nice with fragile childish innocence when at other times his tremendous ego declares the whole world unworthy of his genius. 

He stroked Edward's back slowly and said quietly but with confidence, "Ed, you and I have put each other through hell. And for that, I am truly sorry. I started that vile circle. The fault is mine," he pulled away to look Ed in the eyes. "You have nothing to blame yourself for, you hear me?" 

Edward slowly shook his head and huffed a chuckle that sounded more like a sob, "Look at us, two of the most egocentric criminals blame themselves and not others for once." Oswald chuckled too. They really did change, both of them. "And in case you didn't know it already, I forgive you too, Oswald. For everything." 

He studied Ed's face closely, trying to find some trace of deception or doubt. He didn't. Ed was sincere and determined. Oswald's heart panged and a lump formed in his throat from the rush of emotions. Ed has just forgiven him! He had long since lost all hope to get his forgiveness anymore. 

Oswald couldn't help but reach out and draw Ed into another hug, overwhelmed by the softness he felt for the man. 

"Thank you, Edward," he whispered and blinked away the tears that veiled the vision and threatened to spill from his eye. 

They pulled away; Ed looked much more composed. 

"Now lay back down and go to sleep. You need your full night's rest." 

Ed nodded and gave him a small grateful smile. It was more than enough to warm Oswald's heart and drive away chills from his bones. They returned to their usual positions, and Oswald ran his fingers through Edward's silky locks once again. 

Ed still didn't relax enough to fall asleep; his agitated mind wouldn't allow that anytime soon without some assistance. Usually, in the past, when their positions were reversed, Ed would read a book out loud. It always managed to send Oswald to sleep, lull him with Ed's soft voice and monotonous words he didn't pay attention to. It never worked with his friend, though. Edward's insatiable curiosity prevented him from relaxing, and instead, he would focus on the information from the book. 

Oswald decided on another method: he started to hum his mother's lullaby under his breath. Ed sighed and gave a slight appreciative nod under Oswald's hand. It was their song now as well, connecting them on so many deep personal levels. This time Oswald definitely didn't imagine the way Edward pushed into the touch of his hand. 

"Did you know that houseflies hum in the key of F?" his friend murmured sleepily when the lullaby was over. 

Oswald huffed a chuckle. "No, Ed, I didn't. And I sincerely hope you did not just compare me to a housefly." 

Ed giggled. "Of course not, your pitch is much better. Ow," he said just to indicate that he had indeed noticed Oswald tugging his hair slightly as a punishment. 

"Did you know they can taste the food with chemonsensilla receptors on their lower legs and feet?" 

"Edward, that's disgusting. I suppose I shouldn't have complained about your penguin facts." 

Ed chuckled. "Penguins can sleep sitting in the water, standing up, lying down or just sitting," he mumbled with closed eyes and a small smile playing on his lips. 

"I'm not gonna sleep sitting here, Ed, my leg won't appreciate it. Hush now, I'm trying to make you fall asleep, and the facts are not helping." 

"No facts, check," he murmured drowsily and sighed, relaxing even more. 

"Thank you, Ozzie. Goodnight," Oswald cherished that warm feeling inside of him whenever Ed used that pet name. 

"Anytime, Eddie. Sleep well," he hoped Ed liked his pet name as well. He would've surely told him otherwise. 

Soon after that, Edward's breathing deepened, his body fully slacked. Oswald kept up his steady gentle movements for a few more minutes to make sure Ed indeed drifted off. He was moving more and more slowly until he finally stopped entirely and just held his hand on top of Edward's head for a while. 

Then carefully stood up from the bed, fixed the place where he sat, and pulled Ed's comforter higher on his shoulders. Oswald glanced one last time at his friend's peaceful sleeping face, smiled at the adorable man, and quietly left the room. 

Emotional vortex followed by sleepy coziness worked even better than any book would've; Oswald returned to his bedroom and dozed off almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. 

Chapter Text

Only less than three weeks have passed since the reunification had begun and already Gotham had a steady flow of essential supplies, medications, and rations. Everything was given out on reasonable requests to anyone in need. Money wasn't necessary to survive for now, which was inconvenient since Penguin wanted to make a small fortune from selling overpriced goods. He still did, but only with more extravagant things like alcohol or high-quality food he was smuggling from the mainland. After the loss of their treasure, Oswald and Edward will have to work twice as hard to keep their preferred luxurious lifestyle and satisfy their ambitions. They weren't completely broke, of course. Thankfully, Oswald was wise enough to not put all eggs in one basket, or a submarine in this case. He still had his offshore accounts and quite a few assets here. He also stored some hard cash in case he ever needed to return to Gotham. It was more than enough to live a good, even prosperous life, but not nearly adequate for their grand plans. 

Of course, there was always an option to rob some of the rapidly reopening banks. Alas, much to Riddler's dismay, they had no choice but to lay low for a while. The military was helping the police to clear the streets, and they had a shoot-to-kill order for all criminals posing any danger or resisting the arrest. The order was active until Blackgate Penitentiary and Arkham Asylum are rebuilt and at least partly functional once again. The remnants of the underworld are either in hiding now, or dead. With the very few exceptions like Riddler, Penguin, Lee, and Barbara — all publicly assisting with rebuilding the ravaged city.

Oswald was still working on getting them a full pardon so they won't be arrested and convicted for their past crimes straight away after the GCPD prepares a place to contain all criminals, even currently peaceful ones. The key figure in negotiating for it was Jim Gordon, of course. Rumor has it, he's likely to get a promotion for saving Gotham, or what's left of it. Figures. And quite predictably, he doesn't disclose any information about the possibility of the pardon to Oswald. 

Which was the reason and the main topic of Penguin's current tantrum. They returned to the mansion almost an hour ago, and after the dinner moved to the living room and decided to open some fine wine Oswald had smuggled. 

They were sitting next to each other on the couch by the fireplace: their jackets and waistcoats long discarded, wine glasses in hands. The dog Edward curled in his 'bed' and didn't seem to mind Oswald's loud outbursts, too used to his owner's temper by now. The human Edward was barely listening to his friend's furious tirade at all: he was quite tipsy already and had other things to focus on. 

Things like the way Oswald's whole posture was tense, ready to jump at his enemy at any second and tear them to shreds with his bare hands and teeth, similar to a wound up panther striding in its cage, waiting for a careless victim to come closer. 

Or the way his knuckles were white from how hard he clenched his fist. Riddler could vividly imagine how those knuckles would have broken all the bones on Gordon's pretty face. They would be crimson instead of white then. Hands of a killer. The same hands that could be so tender towards people close to the person underneath the Penguin persona. 

Edward watched mesmerized how Oswald's black leather sleeve garters wrapped around his upper arms and wrinkled the midnight-grey silk of his shirt. They had absolutely no right to make him look so much more alluringly dangerous and downright hot. Neither did his void-black tie with red patterns like splatters of scarlet blood and a small razorblade adorning it. 

Ed admired how meticulously Oswald's raven black hair had been freed from under the bandage and styled around it in such a peculiar manner that the dressing looked more like a crown. True King of Gotham, even injuries are worn with pride and used to adorn his magnificent being.

Penguin's aquiline nose, so often used as a feature for mocking, gave him positively predatory vibes, combined with his angrily furrowed black eyebrows. The thin skin on his nose bridge created wrinkles as Oswald spat his agitated tirade. Ed wanted nothing more than to smooth them out with his lips and rub his own nose with Penguin's beautifully curved one. 

And oh how brightly the uninjured ocean green eye flared. It seemed like the flames reflecting in it were coming from inside the eye, sent there by Penguin's heart blazing hot with passion. That fire threatened to devour Edward whole, burn him like a helpless sacrifice to this primal fury. He had to look away to save his life just for a little longer. 

His gaze fell on delicately shaped pink lips. Ed wondered, enthralled, what their flavor is like. If he leaned down and tried them with his tongue, would he taste the wine? Or even the sweetness of tiramisu they had for dessert, perhaps? Would Oswald kiss Edward back or push him away? Would he bite or kiss gently? 

The alluring lips parted and revealed the row of sharp white teeth. Riddler guessed that considering his carnivorous temper, Penguin would most likely bite him until he drew blood. And then lick it away gently because besides being ruthless, Oswald was also soft and tender. 

Ed swallowed. His thoughts were straying too far; he will lose control if he continues staring and admiring his friend's unique beauty. Ed didn't appreciate how his own mind and body were repeatedly betraying him, making him fall into more and more desperate longing for Oswald as the days passed. On more than one occasion it led him to act almost suggestive around the bird. Sometimes his touches lingered noticeably longer than necessary. Or he sat unreasonably close to his friend so that their knees and thighs brushed, despite there being more than enough free space. Or casually whispered a compliment into his friend's ear, that never failed to bring the sweetest blush to Oswald's cheeks. 

Edward hated it when he couldn't stop himself from showing his affection. It felt like he was leading Oswald on, which was plain cruel and not his intention at all. And it became increasingly harder to pretend that Ed didn't notice hurt and disappointment shading Oswald's features each time their almost intimate moment led to nothing. But he couldn't help it, couldn't keep away. 

Ed ached to touch him, kiss him, have him, love him. 

He sighed, straightened his glasses, and tried to focus on his friend's speech instead. Riddler took another sip of wine, bringing warmth to his throat and lightness to his head.

"... And he dares to come in the room while I was being bandaged only to tell me that we should behave," Penguin spat the word, "until the official statement." 

Riddler couldn't even find it in him to be infuriated with Gordon at the moment, too entranced by his friend's unbearable beauty. Penguin always looked glorious when enraged. The only thing able to compete with his deadly looks was the way he would kill some fool who dared to annoy him in the heat of the moment. Ed was safe, though, and free to lose himself in admiring this marvelously dangerous bird. 

"'Behave', Ed! Like we're some naughty brainless teenagers," Oswald sharply placed his glass on the table. Probably to avoid hurling it into the wall. "Oh, we will make him pay for every indignity he made us suffer. Whatever we have endured he'll get tenfold." 

Yes, that was one of the main reasons why Edward admired Oswald so much. In everything — be it love, friendship, caring for a mute boy, revenge, business, ruling the underworld — he always went to the end and always with full dedication. Go big or go home. No half measures. 

"I will rise again and hold this city in my grasp once more. He doesn't realize yet that this situation is merely a minor setback." 

Yes, the Penguin always gets up and fights for what he wants. He's the very picture of a man who makes lemonade if others keep throwing lemons at him. And then sells that lemonade to his tormentors by outrageous prices. Probably even adds some poison to teach the fools a lesson. Oswald might stumble, fall and crawl, but he never retreats, not in the long run.

"I will not lose to the likes of Jim Gordon." 

Exactly. Always fighting, never giving up. Unbreakable. Uncontrollable. Unstoppable. 

"That's why I love you," Ed breathed out, lost deep in the blazing green ocean of Oswald's eye. Both men completely froze as soon as the barely audible words escaped his mouth. 

Ed tried to think of any easy way out of this situation. Maybe turn it into a joke? Or pretend Oswald misheard him? Perhaps correct himself that he meant 'like you', as in 'like working with you'? But no, it was too late. The words have already sunk in, and thick silence filled the room, disturbed only by the soft crackling of the fire. 

It seemed like Ed's brain just short-circuited after the sudden unintentional confession. He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe. In the back of his mind, he registered the way different emotions replaced each other and merged on Oswald's face as minutes crawled by in deafening silence. 

Shock. Surprise. Incredulity. Disbelief. Joy. Suspicion. Hope. So much hope. Then doubt. And denial. Anger quickly morphed into confusion and hurt. Raw desperation then settled as last flickers of hope were fading away and transforming into tears in his eye. 

Ed recalled how confident Oswald was when he had tricked him into admitting his feelings. 'One cannot deny love', he said back then. So certain Ed could truly love him that there was not even a glimpse of disbelief. Only relief and happiness. 

And now he was the opposite of confidence. He doubted the truth of Ed's confession because of all his heartbreaks and deep-seated insecurities, for which Edward had only himself to blame. Another wave of guilt washed over Ed, and he was finally able to break through his trance. He hastily placed his glass on the table and pulled Oswald into his arms. 

"Oh my, I'm so sorry, Oswald," he hugged his beloved friend tightly. He never meant to hurt him so much and break his self-confidence so severely. Even though Oswald had granted him his forgiveness, Ed still couldn't forgive himself. He wasn't sure he ever will. 

Oswald stiffened in his embrace. He didn't hug him back —just sat still as a statue. After a few moments, he firmly pushed Ed away with both hands and leaped from his seat. 

"What the hell, Ed? Is this some kind of a sick game to you? What have I done to deserve your mocking now?" 

What? Did Oswald think Ed was making fun of him and teasing him with fake confession? 

Yeah, it kinda looks like it when you say 'sorry' right after 'I love you', dimwit.  His voice spat angrily in the back of his mind. 

I would never do such a thing!

Never again, you mean? Well, tell him that, you moron! 

Ed abruptly got up as well. "No, wait, I didn't mean-..." but he was cut off by completely enraged Penguin now. 

"I know you didn't mean it! No need to rub it in my face again. You're not as cold and heartless as you pretend to be, Riddler, but that was too cruel, even for you. A shame that I don't even know what I did wrong this time," a tear escaped his eye and was aggressively swiped away. "Now if you'll excuse me," he swiftly fled upstairs, scooping the almost empty bottle of wine on the way. 

Ed stood motionless in his place for a couple of minutes, trying to process what just happened. 

What are you waiting for, genius? A sign from above? Go to him and apologize.  Riddler's low voice spat behind him. He looked furious when Ed turned to face the illusion. 

"It won't work. He hates me now," Ed mumbled. 

Do you realize how childish that sounds? He'll forgive you. He forgave you for worse. 

"Exactly. And I just hurt him again. It will always be that way. I have to put an end to it." 

What the hell are you babbling about? 

"Better to be lost and homeless than destroying our home.  I  am the problem. And I know how to fix it." 

Ed almost ran out of the living room. 

STOP.  Riddler appeared right before him when he opened the front door. They both froze face to face in the doorway. 

What are you doing?  Rhetorical question, considering they share one brain, but Ed humored him anyway. 

"Isn't it obvious? The problem needs to be removed from the equation. I'll leave this place and never come back. Leave Gotham. I'm going to protect Oswald from myself." 

That is just too stupid. Even for you. Can't you see you'll hurt him even more if you leave now just like that? 

"How so?" he still stood in the doorway. 

Riddler scoffed.  And you dare call yourself smart. You leave now, and he will be even more heartbroken. Because his best friend just teased him with a fake love confession for no particular reason before leaving him for good without even saying goodbye. 

"I didn't mean to confess; it just slipped. I never wanted to hurt him. Especially like that." 

You're pathetic, Ed! Stop whining here and go fix the mess you've made.  Riddler growled.  At least explain to him what you meant and then decide about leaving. He deserves to know the truth. 

As an affirmation of his demand, there was a loud crash of broken glass. Presumably from the wine bottle being thrown into a wall. 

Oh, don't be scared, Eddie. It could've been your head, but hopefully, Ozzie is out of bottles for the moment.  Riddler cackled mockingly. 

Seriously though, don't just stand here talking to yourself. You have an angry bird to calm. Come on. 

Riddler's image faded, and Ed closed the front door. He took a few slow steps towards the stairs. Dead silence was pressing him, preventing him from moving further. 

But what should I say? How can I fix this now? 

Ugh, you're so worthless.  Riddler groaned.  Tell him everything, obviously. 

Everything? The whole truth? 

What, were you going to lie to the man who can see right through you?  He scoffed.  Explain it, make him understand. And we'll see what happens next.  

We should make a plan for every possible outcome of this conversation. 

Usually, I wouldn't have it any other way. But Ozzie has always been the exception. No plans this time, Eddie. Knock, knock. 

Riddler's laughter faded as Ed found himself knocking on Oswald's door. He didn't even realize he had been walking to it the whole time. Damn it, Riddler. Oh well, no turning back now. 

After a minute of silence and muffled shuffling behind the master bedroom door, Ed heard a quiet: "It's not locked." 

He took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was dimly lit by candles; their dancing flames reflected in bottle shards next to the wall. Oswald stood unmoving with his back to the window, facing Ed, hands crossed over his chest. There were no tears in his eye and no anger in his expression — only a well-crafted mask of polite indifference. 

Ed knew this look. It was Oswald's way to try and distance himself from something that was getting dangerously close to hurting his heart. It was one of his shields, along with too wide forced smiles and fake cheerfulness. He wore those masks often when Ed was dating Isabella and then Lee. But Ed knew what Oswald's sincere emotions looked like, which made these disguises painfully obvious. At least now that he finally paid attention to his friend's feelings. 

"Please accept my apologies, Edward. I overreacted. You obviously meant it as a joke, but I misunderstood. It won't happen again," Penguin's tone was deliberately flat and emotionless, so very uncharacteristic to him. 

It was a way for Ed to move past this. He could play along with Oswald's charade and pretend those words were merely a joke indeed. 

That would be lying though. And cowardice. The cruelest deception of your best friend, whom you love with everything that you are. Would you really do that to him? 

"No," Ed said quietly, and Oswald tilted his head slightly, carefully studying Ed from behind his hollow mask of a face. That gaze made him itchy with uneasiness. He took a steadying breath before speaking. 

"It wasn't a joke, Oswald. I meant what I said. I didn't intend to say it though, it just slipped." 

There was a glimpse of something on Oswald's face, but it faded as fast as it appeared, hidden again behind his mask. 

Silence. Ed tried to keep his breathing steady under Oswald's scrutinizing gaze. Penguin's face betrayed no emotion. Sometimes Edward wished his friend wasn't such a good actor. 

The silence was deafening. Penguin just stood and watched like a blinking and breathing statue of an angel wordlessly judging the sinner before him. Ed felt even more anxious; he wanted to run away, to hide from this blank gaze. But more than that he needed his lively feathered friend back. Not this emotionless shell. 

"Please, say something," he pleaded and didn't even care how desperate he sounded. 

"Explain," Penguin demanded barely audible after a few more minutes. 

Ed sighed and locked his eyes with Oswald's. He can do it. He has to.

"I love you, Oswald. I really do. And I want to be with you more than anything," he said with absolute certainty. A sharp inhale from Oswald, almost a gasp, but nothing more. 

"I think I've been in love with you for a very long time now. Admittedly, it took me a while to realize that. And for that, I am truly sorry. But when I did, I also came to the conclusion that I should not act on my feelings because I need to protect you. I am not a good person, and I would only hurt you again if we were in a romantic relationship. I don't want to be the cause of your pain anymore. Besides, love is a weakness, and I want us both to stay strong," he released another deep sigh. "I hope you understand now."

He finished and took a deep, steadying breath, waiting for his friend's reaction. Oswald remained impassive. Edward adjusted his glasses and fumbled with his tie, not knowing what to do with his hands. To try and distract himself from the itching anxiety, Ed started to think about the ways this can end. 

The most convenient would be if Oswald just agreed with his logic so they both could move on without any issues in the way. Somehow he felt it was the least likely outcome. 

A much more possible reaction would be fury. The Penguin is a very short-tempered and quite merciless person. Perhaps he would just make Edward leave and never come back. It would be painful but acceptable; Ed was going to do that anyway. Hopefully, it won't come to physical fighting. 

Or he might try to persuade Ed to follow their hearts and give their love a chance. Edward would simply have to make him understand his rational arguments then. His logic is steadfast; it has much more power than reckless feelings. 

Oswald finally gave a sign of life. He balled his fists and furrowed his brows, jaw set, and lips downturned. Oh crud, the second way it is. 

Then Penguin's impassive mask shattered completely; he crossed the distance between them with frightening quickness. They stood face to face now, Oswald somehow towering over Ed despite their height difference. Edward's first instinct was to jump away or shield from the inevitable attack. But his pride and self-control won, and he didn't move an inch. 

From the gaze Oswald was giving him, Ed prepared to receive a solid punch in the face. It was well deserved, he supposed. The thought flashed that he probably should've removed his glasses, but it's too late now. 

"You are such an  idiot !" Penguin shrieked. Oh, here it comes. Ed winced slightly in advance. 

But Oswald surprised him yet again when he grabbed his tie and yanked him down to firmly crush their lips together. Ed gave an embarrassing squeak in surprise and after a moment attempted to turn whatever that was into a kiss, but didn't even get a proper taste when Oswald pulled away. He looked at Ed with much less fury now. The bird was still fuming but at least didn't seem like he was about to rip his face off. 

"Edward Nygma. That was the dumbest thing I've ever heard from you. And that's including those godawful rap riddles," he snarled into his face, still clutching his tie, and Ed winced involuntarily. "What  exactly  gave you the impression that I need to be protected?" 

"I-…" 

"No! No more excuses, Ed! I am not a damsel in distress, and I will not stand being treated as such. I appreciate you trying to be protective, it's rather flattering really, but do not ever do that against my will or behind my back. Do I make myself clear?" emphasized by a harsh tug of the tie.

Oswald could be remarkably threatening sometimes, even without a weapon in his hands. Edward felt thoroughly intimidated and could only nod a few times in response. Oswald let go of Ed's tie, took a deep breath, and continued. 

"Now tell me, whatever twisted logic made you think you would hurt me if we were together? Do you even know what did hurt me?" 

It was probably a rhetorical question, but Ed still answered with a slight shake of his head. 

"Knowledge that I can never be loved, Ed. That's what hurt me. Seeing you fall in love with beautiful women who only saw you as an achievement or a tool. That's what hurt me. Understanding that I can never express my feelings for you and show you how much you mean, how deeply you are loved. That's what hurt me the most." 

Oswald's anger faded and was replaced by sad determination. He shook his head as if trying to chase the thoughts away. Then sighed deeply and continued, looking Ed straight in the eyes. 

"Love is only a weakness if you make it such; if you don't let it evolve. You were wrong back then. Love can be a source of strength for anyone, even people like us. True love is not a weakness because it's never a liability. It never holds you back, doesn't restrain your potential but helps realize it." 

Ed didn't know what to say. He had nothing to disprove Oswald's words. His seemingly sound logic shattered to pieces just like that. All he had left in the way now were doubts, insecurities, and fears. Oh, how he wanted to overlook them and leap right into Oswald's embrace. Still… 

"Oswald, I've been in three relationships before — all ended with the death of my partners. I don't want to hurt you. Never again." 

Oswald smiled at him with sympathy. "Edward, I appreciate your concern, but that's not exactly a correct comparison. Lee brought that on herself when she decided to lead you on and use you. Isabel..la," he gave a slight eye-roll. Ed was grateful for the effort to say her name right. "was my fault. Well, and hers too,  mostly hers. You are not guilty of what happened. Kristen Kringle — from what I know — didn't realize who she was dealing with until it was too late. And judging by what you told me, I sincerely doubt she could ever appreciate the true beauty of your being."

He raised a tentative hand to stroke Edward's forearm and softly smiled, never breaking eye contact. "I know and accept who you are, Ed… Riddler. I love you. And I'm not afraid." 

Ed felt a shiver running through his bones and breath hitching in his throat. He knew Oswald felt this way but hearing him consciously say it was something else entirely. His arms tingled with the burning desire to wrap Oswald and show him just how much his feelings were reciprocated. 

Edward was losing this battle, and he didn't even want to win. But he had to try and latch onto the familiar safety despite his urge to dive into the unknown excitement. 

"But I don't deserve you, Oswald. And you… you deserve so much better." 

Oswald scoffed. "Oh please, Ed. It's never a matter of what we deserve. What we want and what we can get is what matters. So, what do you want, really?" 

"You," Ed breathed without thinking for even a second, truth escaping his lips on its own. All barriers shattered, masks ripped off, and feelings laid bare. 

Oswald swallowed and smiled coyly. "Well, you can have me, Ed." 

It was as clear an invitation as ever. Edward stopped fighting his desires and put his slightly shaking hands on Oswald's waist. He glanced at the soft lips before him. 

"Can I… May I kiss you?" his voice was trembling. Ed had a hard time believing this is happening; it felt like a dream, but he wasn't waking up. And never wished to. 

"Please do," Oswald murmured. He placed his hands on Ed's shoulders and tilted his head back a little. 

Ed leaned down and carefully pressed their lips together. Their very first real kiss was slow and gentle. Edward didn't feel electricity running through his spine, and butterflies in his stomach didn't flap their wings. The feeling was something else altogether. Sublime and tranquil. It felt like coming home at last. He marveled at how shockingly natural and right it was to kiss Oswald — like it was always meant to be this way. The feelings of completion and finality overwhelmed Ed, made his head spin, and filled his body with heavenly warmth. 

Oswald was obviously not very experienced in this, but he compensated it with enthusiasm and tenderness. Ed deepened the kiss and couldn't hold a whimper when Oswald carefully bit and pulled his lower lip. Ed felt gentle fingers running through his hair while his own hands were exploring Oswald's back through too many layers of clothing. 

They pulled away after what felt like a lifetime spent in paradise. Oswald rested one hand on Ed's shoulder and the other on the nape of his neck. Riddler held his Penguin close, determined never to let him go. 

Edward opened his eyes and noticed a tear running down Oswald's cheek, glistening in warm candlelight. He wiped it away with his lips, which made his bird giggle a little and more tears to escape the most beautiful sea green eye. All of them ended up on Ed's caring lips. He was dead-set on his task to stop Oswald's tears. Now and forever. 

"Shh, it's alright, Ozzie. I've got you," he whispered and dried one more salty drop. "I love you, my sweet, sweet bird." 

"I love you too, Eddie. So much," he sobbed and shed another tear, which was immediately swept away by Ed's gentle lips. "I never stopped. Tried but couldn't," his hand traveled from nape to cup Edward's face, fingertips gently exploring and caressing oh so carefully, like treating a priceless piece of art. 

"I know," another warm drop intercepted. "I may or may not have accidentally pulled that information from you while you were on drugs after the surgery," Ed confessed. He still felt a little guilty about it. 

Oswald gasped. "How could you, you vile creature!" He said with no real anger in his tone, and silky lips stretched in a playful smirk. Ed pecked those sweet lips just because he could do it now. Tears stopped forming in Oswald's eye glowing with pure happiness. Perfect. 

"I said it was accidental. Besides," Riddler placed a kiss on the beautifully shaped nose, "that's what you get for recognizing Gordon's t-shirt by the smell of his aftershave." 

"Oh," Oswald's cheeks became dusted with the sweetest slight blush. "Well, I know yours too," he admitted with eye downcast. 

"I don't want you to know anyone else's," Ed was surprised to realize he was only half-joking. 

"Getting possessive already, are we, Riddler?" Oswald huffed with a cheeky smile. 

"Perhaps," they shared another kiss, this one more heated and deep, it elicited the sweetest mewling sounds from Oswald. Ed couldn't wait to find out what other new sounds his precious bird can produce. "You knew what you were signing up for." 

"Oh, yes, indeed. And I'm loving it already." 

"Wanna know what you'll love even more?" Ed suggested in a low voice, brushing his lips over his bird's ear. Oswald's whole body shivered in his arms. 

"Very much so, my love," he murmured, and now it was Edward's body that trembled at the term of endearment. Oswald sighed. "But I'd prefer to not step in the glass shards in the morning. So why don't you go get ready for bed while I ask Olga to clean up this mess?" 

Edward was equally thrilled and terrified to realize that already he couldn't deny this man anything. Still, he won't resist fondling and cuddling him a little longer. 

"I don't wanna let you go, Ozzie," he squeezed Oswald in his arms, their bodies pressed flush. "Ever." 

Oswald stood on his tiptoes with arms wound around Riddler's shoulders, rubbed his cheek against Edward's, and murmured smoothly: "I'm not allowing you to. You're stuck with me now, sweetheart. You also knew what you were signing up for," he planted a gentle kiss before biting on Ed's earlobe. Riddler gasped in surprise and whimpered as Oswald licked the pain away, clutching at the man's body tighter. What a positively thrilling reminder that his sweet bird was a bird of prey!

Penguin chuckled, looking very pleased with Ed's reaction. He pecked Edward on the lips and placed hands on his chest. "Now go unless you want to hear a tirade of Russian swearing for distracting Olga from her novels at such a late hour." 

He nodded his agreement, softly kissed Oswald one more time, and released him before they got too lost in passion. 

Ed proceeded to his room, light on his feet and with the happiest smile playing on his lips still sweet with Oswald's taste. 

He took a brief shower. Only when Edward got dressed in pajamas, put on his glasses, and prepared to return to his beloved bird did he notice that his reflection in the mirror was grinning like a cat that caught the canary and didn't bother repeating all of Ed's movements precisely. He wasn't even dressed like Ed, that cocky bastard in his immaculate green suit and bowler hat. 

"Why are you so chipper? I expected you to be all grumpy that your perfect logic failed so miserably." 

Eddie, oh silly Eddie,  Riddler snickered.  Why would I be angry if everything went exactly according to my plan and maybe even better? 

"Your plan? But you said... No... No, wait, it can't be..." Edward's stunned whispers drowned in the thunderous laughter of his reflection. 

Oh yes, it can, Eddie. I told you I want my Penguin and I  always  get what I want. 

Ed was startled by the revelation. "But then why did you convince me to hide our feelings from him in the first place? We could've had him for weeks now!" 

Perhaps. But where's the fun in that?  He cackled, throwing his head back. 

It's been  so  long since we did something wicked, and who knows when that'll happen again. Might as well have fun with little old you for the time being. I played you like a puppet and oh how wonderfully you danced!  He applauded, still laughing mockingly. 

Ed felt age-old boiling irritation towards his other-self. 

"It must've been very amusing for you to watch me squirm and suffer. Nothing new here. But don't you see that it hurt Oswald as well? You said you wanted to protect him!" he balled his fists but restrained from physically releasing his frustration on a mirror.

Of course I do. And I did. Always will.  Riddler stopped giggling and said with full conviction which resonated with Edward's own. 

"Still, you made me tease him, hurt him. That was not very kind and protective of you." 

But it was necessary.  Riddler shrugged with arms spread wide.  I decided it's best to wait until both you and Ozzie were too wound up and frustrated to spoil everything with your mutual 'I don't deserve you' bullshit.  He did air-quotes and smirked mockingly. 

"But I really don't. I-..." 

Stoooop.  You  might not deserve it, but  I  deserve only the very best. My Penguin is just that. And he deserves to be loved and cherished by the very best as well, which is where  I  fit in perfectly.  He haughtily straightened lapels of his green jacket.  Well, and you too, by association.  He smirked. 

Edward took a minute to process that. All this time he had a nagging suspicion deep down that Riddler could've been playing a game of his own, but he didn't even begin to grasp the whole picture until now. 

"But what about love being a weakness? Didn't you want to stay stronger without it?" 

Riddler scoffed.  As I said before, it was your words, Ed, not mine. Words of a man trying to cope with the fact that he just killed his girlfriend. This delusion was useful for a while. Not anymore. Now you have someone who can show what real love means. And you finally came to your senses and now ready to accept and return it. 

"But I tried to love and be loved before. And, as you said, I brought only pain and death to the ones I loved. Why do you think this will be any different?" 

Edward felt undeniably happy about being together with Oswald at last, but the mere thought about unwittingly hurting his precious man froze his insides.

You mean besides the fact that unlike those fragile goody-two-shoes girls you chose to date Penguin can actually kick our ass in close combat if it comes to that?  Riddler snorted. Ed did not appreciate that joke at all. 

His reflection let out an exasperated sigh.  Eddie, your 'love' with them — if it even was love — was built on half-truths and half-acceptance. All of them tried to hold you back from being your complete self, from realizing your full potential. That 'love' was a weakness indeed — it literally made you weaker by restraining your strength, by shutting half of you out. Your better half, I might add.  He smirked, Ed only rolled his eyes. 

Now Ozzie is a different matter entirely.  He said with a dreamy smile and hungry glint in his eyes. He accepts you and me together. Even his friendship and support was enough to shape us into what we are, help make us whole. You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Ed? 

"Yes. I've never known myself as well as I know myself when I'm with him," he had to admit. 

Precisely. Just imagine what we'll have now that there are no more barriers between Oswald and us. Nothing to stand between our love. 

A shiver ran through his spine at the sheer grandiosity of everything coming together so perfectly at last. Like all pieces of a giant puzzle finally fit in their rightful places. 

"Did you really plan all that so perfectly? From the moment we learned about Oswald's feelings, you tried to talk me out of confessing my love to him. Everything you said against it was only for me to prove wrong and see how right it was to follow my heart this time," Ed shook his head in disbelief. 

Riddler gave a theatrical bow, puffed his chest proudly and laughed.  Oh, don't look that surprised, Eddie. You know my level of ingenuity, and you clearly needed a push there. Well, I did think it'll take you a little longer to slip up inevitably. The alcohol helped, I guess.  He huffed. 

"But how did you calculate Oswald's actions? He can be unpredictable sometimes." 

Yep, he usually is, always a mystery, our vicious little birdie. Riddler licked his lips. But since we learned he still had feelings for us, it was easier to predict his attitude. Despite his bristling independence, deep inside Oswald craves to be loved. I knew he would give us a chance. 

"So you also didn't know he still loved us?" Ed smirked mockingly. It gave him some perverse pleasure to reveal Riddler's flaws sometimes. 

Pfft, a minor inaccuracy, nothing more, no big deal.  Riddler scoffed, crossing arms over his chest, but soon relented under Edward's skeptical gaze. 

Okay, fine, we both were equally blind, Ed! Happy?  He threw his hands up.  His feelings are illogical; who knew he still could love us after everything?!  He growled, clearly irritated at having his mistakes pointed out. 

"Just a friendly reminder that you are not as impeccable as you always want me to believe," Ed shrugged with a cocky grin. 

I hope you feel better about your own pathetic cluelessness now.  Riddler sneered at him, words dripping with sarcasm. He huffed.  You have to admit, my plan worked flawlessly. Although I was confident Ozzie would punch us at least once today. Even prepared to take some pleasure in the process.  He winked at Ed suggestively. Edward rolled his eyes.

Speaking of pleasure. Enough chit-chat with the mirror, Eddie. I want my Penguin. Let's go get him. 

"Don't you think we should take it slow?" Ed mused. Riddler's appalled glare full of disdain was a clear answer. 

"Right, okay. We've all been waiting long enough," he nodded with the widest of smiles and walked out of his room. 

Chapter Text

Ed found Oswald in the master bedroom standing before the nightstand, holding something in his hands. He was dressed for the night, and his black hair was slightly damp — probably took a bath while Olga was cleaning the floor. A few candles had burned out, and the ones still alive created a soft atmosphere, casting a warm glow on the burgundy bed dressing. 

Ed tried to peek at what Oswald was holding, but the man apparently heard footsteps and hurriedly put whatever it was in one of the drawers of his nightstand, quickly turning to face him. 

Edward couldn't hold back his curiosity. "What was that?" 

Oswald huffed a chuckle. "Not important, my dear," they shared a quick kiss when Ed crossed the distance between them. Nevermind, Ed will find out everything soon enough, no need to rush it. 

"You seem a little different," Oswald mused as he studied him closely. 

"Oh? How so?" Riddler grinned. 

"You seem more relaxed now, more at peace even? And can't stop smiling," he gently brushed the back of his forefinger over Ed's lower lip, inhaling a small gasp when Ed moved to kiss his knuckles instead. "I'm loving the sight, but I admit I'm curious about what caused it." 

"Two reasons. First, I finally have my Penguin and can do this," he placed his hands on Oswald's waist and leaned in for a kiss. 

"Still can't believe it's real," Oswald hummed in agreement when they pulled away. 

"Oh, it's real alright, my love," God, how naturally that rolled off his tongue. How in the world did he not call Oswald 'my love' before?

"What's the second?" Oswald's hands traveled up his shoulders and rested on the back of his neck. 

"Second, I just realized how genius I actually am." 

Oswald cackled. His laughter wasn't mocking at all but rather amused at Riddler's shameless self-praise. That's why he wasn't offended and even preened a little with a proud grin. 

"You are, indeed, my dear. I believe your brilliance can only be rivaled by your enormous ego," Penguin shook his head affectionately and caressed the side of Edward's face. 

"I'm not so sure about that. There's too much competition to it: my creativity, ingenuity, curiosity-..." 

"I sure hope modesty is not on the list," Oswald snorted lightly. 

Ed pretended to consider it. "Hmm... nope, no such nonsense here," he grinned. 

Oswald chuckled and gazed at him with unabashed adoration. "Oh, how I wish I could take at least one glimpse of what's going on in that amazing mind of yours." 

Riddler tilted his chin and placed a kiss on the palm of Oswald's hand still cupping his face. "I can assure, you're the only one who got this close to understanding," he murmured. "And also the first one to not turn away horrified by what you saw." 

Oswald rolled his eyes with a huff. "I'm not so easily frightened, Riddler." 

Now, that sounds like a fun challenge. 

Ed shifted his hands to have a firmer hold of Oswald's torso and whispered tenderly in his ear: "Of course not, my brave Penguin." 

And then suddenly tightened his grip and lifted his bird up from the floor. After a second he was laughing from Oswald's startled yelp. 

"Oooh that's the sound of a scared flightless bird in the air," he mocked. It was totally worth the pain from how hard Penguin's firm fingers dug into his shoulders. 

"Ed, let go!" he squawked, not daring to ease his grasp on the shoulders and helplessly dangling feet in the air. 

"Nope!" Ed made sure to pop the 'p' sound. "Ask nicely!" 

"Release me this instant!" Oswald cried out through his thrashing and giggling. He seemed to be ticklish. Perfect weapon. 

"Now, that was rather rude, Mr. Penguin," Ed chastised and pushed his fingertips further into Oswald's ribs where he was holding him. The bird squealed and kneed him in the thigh. Riddler's shoulders will probably bruise from Oswald's desperate grip; he rather liked that thought. 

"Ask nicely !" he demanded, not willing to lose but already feeling a little strain in his arms. 

Oswald wiggled in his hands for a few more seconds, but then yielded and whimpered breathlessly: "Ed, p-please…" 

Riddler's breath was punched from his lungs by the sound of that plea. It had a powerful and unexpected effect on him. Hot flare in his lower stomach made him abruptly turn to bed and place his Penguin on it with vigor but consideration to his injuries. Edward threw his glasses on the pillows, not bothering to fold them neatly. 

He crawled on top of the man who still tried to catch his breath, trapping him underneath. 

"Verrry good, my sweet birdie," he praised, momentarily startled by the sound of his own guttural purr. Ed wasn't expecting things Oswald's presence would do to his body now that all barriers between them have been shattered. He never felt such an all-consuming desire towards another person, such a passionate yearning to melt together into one whole being. 

Oswald appeared to have caught up with the effects his words had on Edward. He smirked coyly. "Kiss me, Riddler…" he lifted himself on his elbows high enough to whisper in Ed's ear, "please." 

It seemed like Edward's body started acting on its own volition, and he could only observe in awe as he pushed Oswald's shoulders back into the mattress with an animalistic growl and claimed his mouth in the desperately ravenous kiss.  Now all the fireworks and lightning flashes surged through Edward's body with the force of a tornado. The kiss was far from soft, all tongue and teeth, mixed with their lewd moans as they devoured each other with equal vigor. It was nothing short of divine. 

Riddler left his bird breathless and moved on to worshiping any other part of his skin not covered by clothes, all the while working on undressing them both. Oswald was trapped under him and could only whimper and grab onto his pajamas, meekly trying to help, breathlessly moaning Ed's name. 

All flushed and disheveled, lips swollen from their fierce kissing, green eye glazed with lust, and delicate pale body coming undone under his hands — undoubtedly the most breathtaking scene Edward has ever witnessed. 

"So marvelous, my Ozzie," he purred before lightly pressing the nub of a nipple between his teeth. Oswald's hiss turned into a whimper when Riddler licked the sensitive skin before moving lower. 

Edward paid particular attention to the scar he had left on this perfect silky skin years ago. He kissed it thoroughly and tenderly as if trying to erase it from this lithe body blazing hot under him. Trembling fingers threaded through his hair, stroking soothingly, conveying Oswald's comforting, understanding and forgiveness as effectively as his words did when Ed had that nightmare after almost losing him again. 

He nuzzled at the scar one last time and moved on to claiming his lover further, kissing a trail down the soft stomach and lower, lower still, until his mouth and hands started to extract deliciously obscene noises Oswald didn't bother to hold back. The most glorious symphony to Edward's ears. 

Oh, what an exhilarating way to use his vast knowledge of human anatomy! Each stroke, caress and pull discovered more ways to bring his Oswald to new heights of pleasure. Ed was learning how to play this perfect body like a unique musical instrument. Oswald's breathless high pitched moans combining with his own low groans created an unforgettable duet.

Edward's sounds of pleasure became even more intense when Oswald started to tug at his hair, pulling them on just the perfect edge between too painful and not hard enough. 

Riddler glanced up and groaned from delight at the state he brought his Penguin into. Chest heaving frantically, one free hand desperately clawing at silky burgundy sheets, eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed under unruly strands of black hair sticking to the damp forehead. Milky skin reddened by passion rising from within; the trail of love marks left by Riddler's mouth so prominent now and will definitely stay to adorn the pale skin for the next day only to be joined by new ones he'll create, marking his precious lover, claiming this perfect body for himself. Swollen and bitten lips opened in bliss and not even trying to form words anymore besides occasional 'Ed' and 'please' which only spurred Edward into doubling his efforts aimed to extract more moans and pleas. Penguin's whole body laid exposed on dark red silk, entirely and willingly submitted into Riddler's power, like an offering for a deity placed upon a flaming altar.

Perfect. Beautiful. Mine. 

Immaculately supercilious Oswald Cobblepot with his eloquent speeches and prim demeanor turned into an incoherent trembling mess by Edward's skillful mouth and tricky hands. What a deeply satisfying work he has done, Riddler was exceptionally proud of himself. 

"Ed.. ah.. I.. mn.." Oswald attempted and miserably failed to form a sentence. But Ed understood him anyway and didn't stop savoring his delicious Penguin. 

Oswald tried to pry him away, and when that didn't work, he lifted his head to look at Ed. Their eyes met, and that's what did it for him. Oswald cried out and shuddered in ecstasy under Riddler's firm hold. Edward waited for him to relax and melt back into soft mattress and pillows, soft moans silencing with his coming down. 

Only then Ed noticed how painfully aroused he was himself, so excited by his work and its delightful results on his gorgeous lover. He crawled up to lay beside his blissed-out Penguin and started to caress his warm body, nibble at his earlobe gently and ravish his jaw and neck with open-mouth kisses. 

Slowly Oswald started to return from his high. He moaned softly and brought his one hand to Ed's chest, the other raised to support him from behind, both stroking and caressing, leaving a blazing trail of desire in their wake. Oswald turned to face him, looking at Edward with  so much  love and mesmerized awe that it almost sent him over the edge. He held back though, not wanting it to end so soon. 

Ed reached to kiss Oswald deeply. He moaned into the kiss, biting and whimpering when Oswald pinched, pulled and stroked his sensitive nipples. 

Then the soft hand left his chest and started slowly caress him, traveling lower, towards where he wanted, where he needed it. Oswald stopped just out of reach and murmured, breaking their kiss. "Eddie, how do you want it? Should I-.." 

"Just to-touch.. ah.. Ozzie!.." Edward hid his moans in the crook of Oswald's neck, desperately clutching at his side, hips, arms, wherever his hand could reach and grab. 

Somewhere in the farthest corner of his mind, a thought flashed that it would be fantastic if his bird had more of a body to grab a hold onto. The thought vanished as quickly as it appeared, now completely drowned in scalding waves of pleasure coursing through him. 

"My sweet Riddler, so good, so beautiful, so perfect," Oswald's velvety voice purred into his ear. Ed could only whimper in response, melting under his touches. He never expected that his chosen name could be uttered with so much tenderness before. He never knew the ecstatic trembles it will send to his body, shivers even more pleasant than those he secretly cherished each time Oswald called him Riddler.

"I love you so much," murmur followed by nuzzling, kissing, and licking under his jawline and around it, as far as Oswald could reach. Then his burning face got peppered by kisses that seemed to leave scalding marks Ed desperately wanted to never fade.

"O-Ozz…ple-ease…" he didn't know what he was asking for. At this moment he didn't know anything at all. Everything narrowed down to the almost unbearable pleasure pooling in his lower stomach and his beautiful man holding him, basking Ed in his love. 

"Yes, Eddie. Tell me what you want," whispered sweetly in his ear. It sent more shivers down his spine, nearly pushing him over the edge. 

Ed wanted a lot of things. But right now all of them could be described by one simple word. "You ..." he breathed between moans and whimpers. 

"I'm right here, my love. I've got you. I'm  yours ." 

And that was the last drop that spilled his cup, painting all his world into blissful white nothingness. 

Ever so slowly Edward returned to his senses after this absolutely transcendent experience and found himself slumped down on top of Oswald, who was lazily rubbing big circles in his back. As Ed blinked open his eyes, he noticed that he bit on Oswald's collarbone quite hard, so lost in the white heat of his ecstasy. He carefully licked at he hurt spot, murmuring a quiet 'sorry' between kisses. There was no blood but it still gonna bruise and hurt. He felt guilty for accidentally bringing pain to his sweet lover already. 

Oswald chuckled. "What for, my dear? I rather enjoyed it, to be honest." 

Ed lifted his head in surprise to look at his bird. Penguin was smirking mischievously and apparently being sincere. How curious. 

Ed reached his lover's sweet lips, and they shared a deep kiss. This time gentle, slow, and cozy. Tongues sluggishly rubbing on each other, exploring in no rush at all. Soft caresses of their hands added even more tenderness to the experience. The kiss was slow enough to let them breathe without completely withdrawing from each other. Ed stroked short feathery hair on the nape of Oswald's neck and softly moaned into the kiss when Oswald gently grabbed at his backside. 

They pulled away eventually. The deep kiss turned into smaller pecks on each other's lips. Both men couldn't seem to get enough of that blissful intimacy they finally found together. 

Both drunk on oxytocins and endorphins, they pulled away from the lips, pressed their foreheads together, and stared deep into each other's loving eyes. They giggled at absolutely nothing in particular, just as an outlet for the excessive happiness they couldn't contain. 

"I love you, Ozzie," Edward murmured because that was the one and only truth that mattered here and now. This feeling filled his whole being to the brink, and words formed themselves. 

"Love you too, Eddie," Oswald whispered before pressing his lips to Ed's forehead. "Rest now, my dear," he nudged Ed to lie down and covered them with the soft duvet. 

Edward noticed they both were cleaned and his glasses laid neatly folded on the nightstand — probably Oswald's doing while Ed was too blissed out to properly register his surroundings. 

Edward rested his head on his lover's steadily rising and falling bare chest, listening to the strong heartbeat and purring when delicate fingers slowly threaded through his hair. He made sure not to put all his weight on Oswald, nestling snuggly at his side instead. Although Riddler couldn't resist it and after a few minutes possessively wrapped his arm and leg around his cuddly Penguin. The bird didn't seem to mind, judging by the kiss he pressed on top of Edward's head. 

"Can't believe it's real. Is this real?" Oswald murmured and hugged him tighter as if worried Ed would disappear the moment he lets go. 

"I sure hope so. Otherwise, I don't know if I should be devastated, or impressed by my imagination," they shared a breathy laugh. 

Ed tenderly stroked his hand up and down Oswald's warm side. "It is real, my sweetest bird. You are mine now. And I am yours," he heard Oswald's heart skip a beat and turned his head to press a kiss to silky skin under his cheek. "Your... boyfriend? Since we're not friends anymore-.." 

"What?!" his sudden squawk startled Ed, and he lifted his head to look at Oswald's stunned expression. "What do you mean we're not friends anymore? Ed, we don't stop being friends only because we became something more," he gently cupped Edward's face and looked him in the eye. 

"You are my best friend, and that fact did not change at all. And I am still your feathered friend," they both smiled and reached for a quick kiss. "But we're also so much more than that now. Boyfriends, lovers, companions, associates, partners-.." 

"Do not even dare to say 'brothers'," Ed interrupted and winced at the word even now. "That's been bugging me for weeks. I'm not a fan of incest at all. And it's not funny!" he chastised Oswald's mirthful giggling. 

"Oh, but it is, bro. Hilarious actually," he grinned. His snickering quickly changed into a squeak when Riddler jabbed a finger between his ribs. 

Ed found it extremely adorable how Penguin, with his high pain tolerance, turned out to be the most ticklish thing that started to squirm and squeal helplessly, as long fingers played on his ribs. His feeble attempts to swat Ed's unyielding hand miserably failed, much to his amusement. "Ed, mercy!" Oswald howled after only a few seconds of uncontrollable giggling. 

"This is what I find hilarious," he snickered and stopped his little torture. They both were too exhausted to move much anyway. Ed soothingly patted skin he was tormenting moments ago, and slim body under him relaxed back. He placed a hand under his chin to avoid causing discomfort as he lounged on Oswald's chest once again, looking him in the eye now. 

"I was so sure you had no more romantic feelings for me left after that remark. I've never considered you my brother, Oswald, what made you call us that?" he frowned.

"I thought that's what you wanted us to be," Oswald shrugged as much as his position allowed. 

Ed supposed it wasn't too unfounded. He did rebuke Oswald's affections on multiple occasions, usually quite harshly. His heart clenched painfully as he imagined what Oswald must've felt being unwanted and pushed away over and over. 

"And you were ready to step over your feelings to be just what  I  wanted us to be?" 

"Anything for you, Ed," he confirmed with full confidence. 

"I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for this idiot to realize the truth." 

"I would've waited forever if I had to. It was well worth it," he gave an affectionate ruffle to Ed's hair. "And don't you dare call my boyfriend an idiot again. I've killed for less, you know." 

"But  you  call me an idiot," Ed reminded. 

"I do. That's my privilege and mine alone," Penguin stated with prideful self-confidence like he wasn't the one who helplessly squirmed and giggled under his tickling fingers only minutes ago. "And now I want you to kiss me before we go to sleep," he demanded with a cheeky smile. 

"So bossy, my Mr. Penguin," Ed murmured and crawled up a bit to make them absolutely comfortable as they pressed their lips tenderly, both unable to stop smiling into the sweet kiss. 

They withdrew, and after a few more slow pecks Ed sighed happily and rested his head in the crook of Oswald's neck, hugging his waist under the covers. 

"Goodnight, Ozzie. I love you," Ed mumbled, sleepily nuzzling at Oswald's soft skin. 

"Sweet dreams, Eddie. Love you too," Oswald pressed a kiss to his temple and sighed contentedly. Ed wondered how had he survived going to sleep each time all these years without those words whispered to him, so simple but infinitely meaningful.

Ed was sleepy and spent, but he couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. The events of the day kept repeating on the loop in his head. He was filled with so much happiness that it just spiraled in him, twisting and turning on itself until it transformed into a terror. A crippling fear of losing this heaven he just found. 

He was almost trembling with dread now. What if Oswald changes his mind and leaves him? Ed hurt him so much, what if he decides it's not worth the pain after all? Or what if they are separated because of their crimes? He can't stop being the Riddler and is bound to be caught someday; he has no delusions about it. Now that he found his place with Oswald, how is he supposed to live alone if they are torn apart for one reason or another? He won't survive alone now; it would be like learning to live without air. He won't make it without Oswald, he'll just fade away, slowly suffocating on his bitter loneliness...

"Edward. I can almost hear you thinking," Oswald groused and stroked Ed's arm wrapping his waist. "What's bothering you, dear?" 

"I'm afraid to wake up alone," he blurted out before thinking his words over. 

It was only a small portion of his fears, but Oswald seemed to understand the real meaning behind them. He hummed thoughtfully and answered quietly after a few minutes. 

"You're never alone now, Eddie, I'm always by your side. Even if we're not in the same place, we have our love together. We shall make it our strength, our sanctuary, our resistance. A safe place only you and I can reach anytime from anywhere, even if we're apart," he whispered and shifted his hand to stroke through Edward's hair. "We might be physically separated from each other by circumstances, but our love is indestructible, it'll keep us together no matter what.  Nothing  can stand between us. I've got you, and you've got me. Always remember that," he finished with a long press of his lips to Ed's temple. 

Edward's heart melted at those words. All fears dissolved and deep soothing warmth settled in their place, bringing peace and comfort. He felt tears forming in his eyes from the sheer power of emotions coursing through him. 

"Thank you," he croaked, his voice suddenly shaking, throat tight, and vision veiled with unspilled drops. 

He hugged Oswald tighter, unable to say anything more to even remotely convey the depth of his love to the man who was his home, his sanctuary, his salvation. 

"You're very welcome, my love," Oswald intertwined their hands, slowly stroking Ed's knuckles with his thumb. "Go to sleep now. I promise to be here when you wake up."

Ed nuzzled at his warm neck a little more, breathing in the clean flowery scent of Oswald's lavender soap. He didn't even notice how he'd drifted away into a peaceful dreamless sleep. 

—?—

Oswald kept his promise. As Edward slowly resurfaced from his slumber, he registered the warm body in his arms nestled close, and steady deep exhales of hot air at the base of his neck. Next thing he noticed were feathery strands of hair slightly tickling his lips and nose as he breathed. The two lovers were pressed close to each other, arms wrapped around waists, legs intertwined, two lives forming one. 

Edward smiled and opened his eyes to the bright sunlight that woke him up. Both men were too out of it yesterday and have forgotten to close the curtains. Ed did not regret it for a second, as the view that greeted him was beyond divine. 

Early morning sun spills through the window freely on the floor, the bedsheets, and Oswald's refined pale shoulder sticking from under the covers. His velvety skin is stark white; it almost shines under the bright sunlight. Ed felt another rush of tenderness as he noticed that Oswald's collarbones and shoulders are dotted with barely visible rare freckles, just like his cheeks and nose. 

Oswald's head is tucked under Edward's chin, slightly opened lips almost brushing at his bare chest, using Ed's upper arm as a pillow. Long dark eyelashes tremble ever so slightly and drop light shadows on the freckled cheek. Perfectly shaped ear sticking out from the mop of ruffled black hair looks red and almost transparent from the sunlight shining on it. His expression relaxed and uncharacteristically innocent. 

Ed always cherished how peaceful and young Oswald looked in his sleep. No trace of the malicious Penguin, only a gentle, sweet man. Naturally, Riddler took particular pleasure in the display of his avian friend's cruelty and power; he could watch him discipline his minions and punish his enemies all day long. But this heavenly creature in his arms was pulling at the exceptionally sensitive strings of his heart, reaching the chords he didn't know existed. Ed wasn't even aware that he was capable of feeling such deep, tender, and real love mixed with an insatiable hunger, an irresistible pull towards the other person. This vortex of feelings made his head spin and chest tighten from the endless love pouring over him. 

Riddler noticed that smile never left his lips while he was admiring the pure heavenly beauty of his boyfriend. He stroked his hand over Oswald's back under the cover, relishing how the sleep-warm velvety skin felt under his fingertips idly traveling over the bumps of his spine. The movement evoked a soft sigh from his sleeping bird. Oswald instinctively tightened his arm wrapped around Edward, pulling him closer, and the hooked nose rubbed deeper at the base of his neck. As expected, his adorable Penguin was an aggressive cuddler even in his sleep. Ed's happy grin widened without his control. He tilted his head to bury his nose in the black feathery locks, breathing in the traces of shampoo and the odor that was unique to Oswald: warm, soft, and sweet. He smelled like sunshine. 

Ed had an insurmountable desire to see his bird fully bathed in this morning sun so rare for Gotham. He started to pull the covers down Oswald's delicate shoulder slowly. Despite how small and scrawny Penguin looked in his expensive suits, his arms had fairly developed muscles underneath. No matter how soft he was with Edward, he was a killer, a fighter, a survivor to the rest of the world. These arms were the murder weapon too many times to count. Although muscles were probably from carrying heavy guns and his overweight bulldog all the time rather than elaborate training. 

Edward was delighted to see that pale freckles didn't stop on shoulders and continued to adorn upper arm with rare barely visible small spots as well. Ed wanted to kiss each one of them. Hopefully, he'll have that opportunity once Oswald wakes up. Until then, Edward was more than happy to stay here with his love peacefully sleeping in his arms. He had half a mind to get up and prepare some exquisite breakfast for his boyfriend but quickly dismissed that idea. They didn't have the necessary ingredients for something extraordinary, and he wouldn't risk letting Oswald wake up alone. God only knows what his impressionable short-tempered bird might think. Edward knew perfectly well his Penguin would require a lot of reassurance that he was indeed truly loved, especially at first, and he'll be delighted to provide it. 

Riddler ghosted his hand over Oswald's arm, barely touching thin hairs, evoking the prettiest goosebumps in the process. However, he had to stop when a soft moan of protest escaped his bird's slightly parted lips. Ed caressed the disturbed skin gently, and goosebumps disappeared while his love remained sleeping peacefully.

He slowly pulled the comforter lower, inch by inch exposing Oswald's milky skin to the kisses of the morning sun. The covers were almost at their waist when he felt hooked nose nuzzling at his neck, then a soft press of lips to his skin and a very sleepy slurred mumble: "Wat'r u doin'?" 

"Never resting, never still. Moving silently from hill to hill. I do not walk or run or trot. All is cool where I am not. What am I?" Edward murmured all the while drawing invisible swirling question marks on Penguin's back with his forefinger. 

"Mmmh 'm sleepin'," a barely audible drowsy grumble. Then after a long pause and a sigh, "S'it death? Plague?" 

"What? No-o! Why?" Ed laughed, taken aback by the stark contrast of this angelic creature nestled in his arms and his grim answers. "It's sunshine, Ozzie," he revealed and kissed the mop of black hair. 

"Hmmm, what 'bout it?" he nuzzled at Edward's neck more insistently and pressed more warm kisses to his chest, not even opening his eye yet, warm fingertips softly caressing Ed's back. 

"I love how it lights your skin," Riddler gently squeezed Oswald's shoulder, watching closely as thin pale skin sank in under his fingers and created soft shadows. "Wanna see you whole under daylight," he tried to pull the duvet down their hips but was stopped by Oswald's hand holding it behind Edward's back. 

"I'd rather you didn't," he whispered and pressed their bodies even closer together. 

"Why is that? I need to study every inch of my lovely Penguin." 

"Well, frankly, I don't wanna lose my boyfriend less than a day after I got him," he mumbled into Edward's chest. "Let's sleep some more." 

So his insecurities run that deep. This needs to be fixed. 

"Ozzie," Ed called gently and waited until the sleepy eye peeked at him. In the warm sunlight and burgundy bedding, it was colored pale blue with slight hints of sea green. No cruel cold spikes resurfaced inside his gaze yet, only soft shining in this state of drowsy coziness. 

"What if I say please?" Ed tried hard to make the saddest pleading puppy eyes he was capable of. As expected, Oswald's defenses crumbled in mere seconds. 

"Now, that's just not fair, Edward," he huffed. "How am I supposed to deny when you look at me like this?" 

"That's precisely the point, my love," Ed placed a kiss on his bird's forehead. "Refusal is not an option." 

He slowly disentangled their limbs and nudged Oswald to lay on his back. Edward was giddy with how soft and pliant his lover was in his sleepy haze. He could place his boyfriend's body however he wanted, like a warm, pliable plush bird. Riddler reveled in being the only person who ever saw Oswald like this: soft, compliant, and on display for him under the morning sunbeams. 

Ed propped himself on one elbow and hovered above his boyfriend's body, studying in detail every vein, every bone, every scar, and every love mark left after last night. Oswald laid bare, duvet covering his body below the hips. 

Bathed in the sun, his pale skin seemed to be shining, so thin and almost translucent with light blue veins underneath. Ed absentmindedly traced their intricate patterns with his fingers, smiling when he noticed the goosebumps on white skin appearing under his gentle touches. 

"You're so beautiful, Oswald," he breathed, unable and unwilling to contain his sincere admiration. 

Silky pale skin gained a pink tint to it as Oswald blushed at the compliment. So cute. Edward caught his gaze full of fond amusement. Blissful warmth spread in his chest, and he reached for a quick kiss before continuing his inspection. 

"Although I do need to feed you better," Ed mused as he slowly caressed protruding ribs and sunken soft stomach. Only recently they were able to steadily procure some proper food; Ed imagined his lover's body was even skinnier before that. 

Oswald huffed. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind it at all. Your roast beef last week was to die for." 

"You've had more than enough attempts already," Ed mumbled as he started tracing his fingertips over his lover's scars. 

Oswald had a lot of them. Some old, barely visible, some new, and some even still healing after the year of survival in a warzone. Ed frowned as rage boiled inside of him, a wave of burning anger at everyone who left those painful marks on delicate skin. 

"You're not too bothered by them, are you?" Oswald asked with slight worry in his voice. 

"No, no, of course not. They show just how strong you are to have survived all that pain. I'm just thinking about how much I want to kill everyone who hurt my sweet little birdie," Oswald snorted at that.  Present company included, Ed thought to himself as his fingers traced the green-tinted ragged scar on his abdomen. Under the sun, it turned out to be much less gruesome than Ed saw it before, discoloration not so pronounced. 

"You don't have to worry about it, my dear," Oswald said with a sly smile as he covered Edward's hand with his, intertwining their fingers. "Your sweet little birdie has already killed most of them himself. And forgiven those who deserved it." 

A slight pull told Edward his boyfriend wanted a kiss, and he was more than happy to oblige. Penguin's soft lips brought him peace and warmth. Oswald is here: alive, loving, and loved. His hand was pressing them close, and when the kiss ended, it didn't let Ed get back up. 

"But I haven't finished admiring the view yet," Ed tried to protest, but the strong warm hand held him firmly in place until he gave up his meek fight, relaxing next to his boyfriend's chest instead. 

"You have all the time in the world to finish your inspection. Allow me to maintain at least some level of mystery while I can." 

"Well, I did see you fully naked under proper lighting before. The setting was less than romantic, though," Ed huffed. "But speaking of mystery, what did you hide so hastily yesterday?" 

Oswald laughed. "Ever the curious creature, are you, my Riddler?" Ed batted his eyelashes innocently and nodded. Oswald chuckled fondly and shifted to reach into the nightstand. 

What he produced from there took Edward's breath away. It was the origami penguin he made for Oswald with gold-dotted black gift paper back then in Arkham. The bird was wrinkled and shabby, but still perfectly recognizable. It clearly had been folded flat quite often before, but now it was restored to its original three-dimensional state, it's little beak proudly held high and flippers neatly bent. 

"You've kept it? All this time?" Ed gasped in disbelief as he carefully took the paper bird from Oswald's hand. 

"What can I say? You know how sentimental I can sometimes be," Oswald chuckled. "It's a miracle that I managed to keep it intact throughout all the madness happening in this city. Unfortunately, I couldn't save the second one. Not much I could do against Jerome and his minions," he lamented. 

"I can make you a new one," Ed suggested. "It's all rumpled and barely held together anyway." 

"No!" Oswald quickly snatched the penguin from Edward's hands as if afraid that he would have crushed it. "This one is important to me," he gently stroked origami bird's head before putting it back in the drawer. Ed only shook his head fondly, endeared by Oswald's sentimental affections. 

Penguin then curled back into Edward's chest, exposing his back to the sun. He nuzzled at Riddler's neck, pressed a kiss on his collarbone, and sighed happily. Ed felt delightful shivers from hot breath against his bare skin. 

"Can we just stay like this?" Oswald murmured dreamily. "Preferably forever." 

"Hmm, as much as I love the idea, I'm afraid I have to refuse. I'm not letting you skip your breakfast, Oswald. Today is an important day, remember?" he gently stroked sun-bathed warm skin of Oswald's back. 

"How could I not?" he mumbled. "But right now, this is much more important to me," he said as he uncurled and reached for a long deep kiss, holding his hand on the back of Ed's head, pressing them closer. 

Today was a big day, indeed. After weeks of nonstop work on the restoration of the power lines, Gotham will finally get electricity back. This means Oswald's workers will be able to start building the Iceberg Lounge in full capacity. Penguin and Riddler have already designed all blueprints and plans; everything is thought through to the last detail. It will be a magnificent two-stories high establishment, with a big scene and a penguin-themed waterfall on the first floor, Penguin's private booth overlooking the whole place from the second, a large office, and, most importantly, several secret emergency escape routes. All stairs, tunnels, hidden doors, and concealed underground rooms will be built by a very few selected workers from Blüdhaven, Central City and Metropolis. Oswald is still considering if he should kill them afterward or pay them handsomely for their silence and future assistance in building other hideouts. 

Riddler is planning to start working on his own separate headquarters; he will need a spacious and safe workplace to design his schemes. Of course, he still has his laboratory here in the mansion, Oswald had it built for Edward during his mayorship, and it was barely touched since Ed moved out. But it's not big enough to make something truly spectacular. Not to mention the risk of blowing up the whole building if one of the experiments goes wrong or equipment malfunctions. 

Thankfully, Riddler has managed to clear out some of the remaining small banks while there were no cameras and no police during the first days of the reunification. There was no money left, but the foolish looters failed to steal something much more valuable - land deals, transfers of property. By now, Oswald has succeeded in officially claiming some of Gotham's land as his and Edward's own. Most of it under fake names, of course. Now they have legally owned property in almost all parts of the city. It's not much, but enough for a few hideouts or storages.

More than two hours later, they entered the dining room, hand-in-hand together. All morning they couldn't keep their hands away from each other, and both agreed that, as long as they wake up together, lazy morning lovemaking in the bed and refreshing one in the shower later must be a requirement before breakfast. Even if that meant listening to Olga's grumbling about reheating the food and remaking the coffee that had gone cold. It was well worth it. 

As they sat together at the table, they still couldn't resist holding hands while eating. When Olga entered the room with steaming cups of freshly made coffee, she rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath something like, "Nu blyad nakonetsto trahnulis' golubki." Oswald almost choked on his food and blushed furiously. 

"What did she say?" Ed asked him because asking Olga would be useless; she'd just ignore him. 

"Something like 'finally the lovebirds fucked', I think," he mumbled, and Ed also felt the heat coming to his face. Oswald cleared his throat before addressing the maid more loudly, "Olga, I don't appreciate your crude comments, even if they're spoken in Russian." 

The woman only huffed and smirked a little, not even a bit phased that her words were understood. She placed their coffee on the table and said, "Priyatnogo appetita, golubki," before leaving the room after another pointed glance at their entwined hands on the table and a slight fond roll of her eyes. 

"Unbelievable," Oswald grumbled and shook his head before continuing to eat. 

"Well, we wouldn't be able to hide it from her for too long anyway," Ed reasoned. "But do you think we should conceal the truth about our relationship from the public?"

"Honestly, my dear, I want to climb the highest building left in Gotham and proclaim to the whole world how much I love Edward Nygma. And of course, brag that he loves me back," he smiled cheekily, and Ed nodded because he wanted to do the very same thing. 

"But alas, I cannot allow myself to risk it yet," he sighed and squeezed Edward's hand. "If anything goes wrong, I'm not sure we have enough resources to repel attempts to using our love against us. So yes, unfortunately, I have to suggest we do not show our affection publicly. Not yet, at least." 

Ed nodded solemnly. Oswald is right. It's bad enough their friendship can be weaponized by their enemies. Their love could easily become their undoing now that they had no money, no power, no reputation, and no trusted allies. 

"Alright, I can't promise to keep my hands away from my lovely Penguin at all times, but I'll try. Although Barbara mentioned some time ago, she had thought we were already in a romantic relationship. She also stated that apparently, everyone thought that."

This time Oswald did choke on his food and coughed a little. "Everyone? Who everyone?" he croaked. 

"She didn't elaborate. But Lee was vaguely insinuating the same," Ed shrugged. 

Oswald rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, let them speculate and gossip further, I'm pretty sure they don't pose any danger to us for now. Barbara could, but she's too preoccupied with buttering up to Gordon so he would ensure she gets a full pardon and stays free to raise her daughter." 

Oswald sipped his coffee and frowned. Then added two more spoonfuls of sugar and stirred it thoroughly. 

"Speaking of buttering up, I'll have to visit the station today; I promised to provide my money and assistance with the bridge's construction, an upstanding, honest citizen that I am," Oswald rolled his eyes. 

"You don't sound too happy about it. Don't you want a faster transportation system than air and water to get more stuff more quickly?" 

Oswald smirked, "No, I really don't. I get too much profit from the boats I have coursing back and forth between Gotham and the mainland, smuggling all kinds of goods as well as rich people too impatient to wait for the much slower public transport." 

"Your ability to make money from literally anything never ceases to amaze me, Oswald," Ed admired. 

Penguin beamed at the compliment and shrugged with feigned humility. "I take what I can get." 

—?—

Even on their way to the station, they didn't separate from each other. The recently hired driver allowed Ed to give his undivided attention to the sweet bird and drape himself fully over Oswald. During the ride, Riddler was lounging on his lap, and they were alternating between soft cuddling and luscious kissing on the backseat, safely hidden behind the tinted windows and the privacy partition. 

At the station, they had to act like only friends, and already Edward felt the urge to hold on to his bird more openly, to wrap around him so that everyone knew who exactly this magnificent Penguin belongs to. Keeping his hands away from his boyfriend's body turned out to be much harder than Ed expected, but he managed for now. All they could allow themselves were fleeting moments when their shoulders touched or fingers brushed and lingered just a second longer than necessary as they were moving through the bullpen side by side. 

Still, it only took one glance from Harvey Bullock to start snickering and sending lewd jokes their way, which they both chose to ignore. However, ignoring the subject became impossible when Barbara chimed in and stated that Selina owes her a hundred bucks for losing a bet on how long it'll take Penguin and Riddler to finally hook up, much to Bullock's glee. The man himself has lost to Lucius, just like detectives Alvarez and Harper did. Harvey thought the two criminals would get things going much sooner, while two other detectives were convinced they would stay friends. Gordon's bet coincided with theirs, and Ed was at least pleased to know Captain lost quite a bit of money for that. Some people even put money on the two unstable criminals to kill each other. The closest one to the truth turned out to be none other than Lee Thompkins. And, as Barbara said before, a lot of people still believed they were already together for quite a while. 

Both Oswald and Edward were blushing and sputtering furiously at the outrageous discovery that apparently there was an actual poll going on where people placed bets on the development of their relationship.  Unbelievable. They refused to either confirm or deny the scandalous assumptions, but evidently, that fact alone was enough to consider those assumptions correct. Bullock's shameless teasing about them shining like two teenagers who just lost their virginity made matters only worse. 

Welp, so much for hiding their relationship. 

Chapter Text

So this is what real happiness feels like. To love and be loved, to have two separate lives combined into one, to see fates so intimately intertwined. Oswald has never been happier than during the last month and a half spent together with the love of his life. For a few weeks after his first night together with Ed, he felt honestly overwhelmed by their new dynamics; it all seemed too perfect to accept that it was happening to him. Penguin couldn't help but anxiously wait for the other shoe to drop. It never did. And eventually, he stopped waiting, fully diving into his radiant feelings, allowing himself to be happy at last.

Edward Nygma loves him back! He truly does, and Oswald feels his head spin each time he's reminded of the fact, which happens quite often. From the passion and tenderness they share when they are near to the small gestures when they are apart. 

Penguin never imagined he could feel so much bliss from physical interactions with another person. Each moment in Edward's embrace is like a drug for him; he just can't get enough. And Ed is eager to provide him more. They are almost always touching in one way or another when they are close. Publicly their relationship is still only speculated — they didn't confirm it but never outright denied it as well. It didn't feel right to renounce each other even if it was just a lie. Playing that game turned out to be mildly amusing, and they did have to keep their secret for now. Privately they were almost constantly in contact: be it passionate lovemaking, heated kissing, cozy snuggling, innocent hand-holding, or just fleeting small gestures like pressing a kiss to the temple or ruffling the hair as they passed by. 

Inevitably, they both were busy with their own projects and couldn't always spend their time together. But even when Ed comes home only for a few hours or gets up to leave after an idea strikes him in the middle of the night, Oswald usually finds some small reminder that he is loved and not alone. Sometimes it's a sticky note on the mirror with a green question mark inside a heart, anatomically correct one, of course. At other times it's a flower on the nightstand — flowers were different, and Oswald translated their meaning via the book on floriography. Often it's a cute riddle hastily scribbled on a napkin on the dining table or another small piece of Edward's creative attention. Sometimes it's only a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for Oswald to take when he wakes up. And sometimes he doesn't find anything at all, which is part of the game as well: Riddler would loathe becoming too predictable. 

When Edward doesn't come home at all, he sends text messages with various kinds of sweet things, almost always hidden under the puzzles. Once Oswald had to spend nearly three hours to decipher the message only to get a 'your hands are beautiful' in the end. He couldn't imagine a better way to spend that time aside from being with his lover himself. Every little reminder of Edward's affections filled his chest with heavenly warmth and never failed to put a happy grin on his face. 

The business was going well enough. One of the bridges was restored, but its capacity wasn't nearly enough for the rapidly restoring city; therefore, Penguin's boats still generated sufficient income. The Iceberg Lounge was mostly built already. All that's left now was interior work and hiring the remaining staff. Penguin wanted to get his club up and running as soon as possible. Quickly resurgent Gotham was attracting all kinds of rich people to do business and investing; what better place to make deals and spend quality time than the luxurious Iceberg Lounge, a classy yet modern club in the heart of the Diamond District. The establishment is due to be opened in two weeks if everything goes right. 

Illegal business was not as good, though. The GCPD and the military were working tirelessly on cleaning up the streets. More and more thugs are being caught or shot each day. Thankfully, Penguin and Riddler were safe for now while they were publicly helping to restore the city, providing money, resources, and information needed. Oswald's generous donations to the cause were matched only by Bruce Wayne's, which was not surprising to anyone. That kind of publicity allowed them to stay in good graces with the people and hopefully added a few points in favor of granting them a full pardon. Although that didn't help them with the criminal reputation at all: some remaining free criminals outright refused to work with Penguin, blaming him for being Gordon's lapdog. None of them survived to spread that opinion, but it did nothing for Oswald's underworld standing. Not that there was much of an underworld left.

Still, it was necessary at least for Oswald to stay free and decent so he could get Lee's medical help with his eye. On his latest visit to the hospital, his bad eye actually saw a very thick red haze, unlike the total blackness it was before. It gave some hope that his sight could still be partially restored with time. The eye itself looked terrible: it was entirely red with popped up blood vessels and burned eyelids, not even iris or pupil were visible. Still healing wounds covered cheek and forehead. Oswald was grateful for Leslie's steady hands: stitches were small and precise, closing his wounds tightly. Some of them won't even leave scars, and others will be barely visible and easily covered with makeup. 

Remarkably, Oswald has stopped worrying about the eye too much after Edward assured him that his reaction earlier was caused by the fear, guilt, and regret only — never he was even remotely disgusted by it. Lee gave him permission to change Oswald's bandages and clean the wounds at home with only monthly check-ups at the hospital. The first time Ed did it, he intently studied Oswald's injury for a few minutes, then leaned closer and very carefully placed tender feather-light kisses to his scars and closed eyelids, whispering quiet 'thank yous' between gentle touches of soft lips. When he pulled back, all Oswald saw in his expression was pure admiration, gratitude, and love. Ed never winced at the sight of his injury again, and that allowed Oswald to make peace with it. Whatever happens, he'll just learn to live with it like he accepted his permanently twisted and hurting leg. Penguin already got used to moving without the depth perception and managed to fire semi-decent shots when there was time to practice. His beloved boyfriend's acceptance and absence of disgust was all the confirmation he needed that everything will be alright in the end.

Recently Oswald began to notice Riddler getting more and more restless. He was nervous, cranky, lashing out on others. Even Oswald wasn't an exception. His own volatile temper sometimes prevented to resolve the matters without little quarrels, which thankfully never lasted for too long. Once, Ed almost lunged at Bullock with a knife after another snide comment from the detective. Another time, Oswald had to physically step in between his enraged boyfriend and Jim Gordon, interrupting whatever it was they didn't agree on. Good thing he was nearby because Ed's hand was mere inches away from his hidden gun handle.

The cause was simple: Riddler's manic itch to show off his genius intelligence wasn't satisfied enough by his help with rebuilding the city. Edward's input was highly appreciated by the officials and by Lucius Fox personally. Even Jim stopped staring daggers at him after his idea of dismantling the fallen Wayne Tower by strategically placed explosives actually yielded results. The workers cheered and applauded Edward Nygma when they realized he had saved them more than a year of hard work. Ed didn't look impressed or pleased by it. All those tasks were barely challenging for his eager mind and lacked that spark of danger both he and Penguin craved. Riddler felt restricted and suffocating without being able to do what and how he wanted.

That's why Oswald suggested making a little field trip. They both needed a change of scenery, a vacation at least for a few days. The choice quickly fell on Blüdhaven for several reasons. First of all, it was initially their destination in the plan of escaping the warzone. Oswald and Edward believed they could find a place in the city almost as deep in the crime as Gotham. Secondly, Oswald had business there; no way would he miss a chance to expand or make profits even on vacation. Penguin had to establish some connections within the local underworld and meet with the head of the rising criminal family. He also didn't mind wreaking havoc together with his partner in crime; Riddler had developed several heist plans and was excited to execute them. Besides entertaining it was useful: they would be close to running out of money soon if Penguin kept wasting it on charity in such amounts.

Most importantly, Oswald and Edward wanted to meet with Martin there. One of the last times he saw his boy was more than a year ago after Sofia had been dealt with, and he needed to get rid of charges that placed him in Arkham. Jim at least had the sense to look remorseful when he saw Martin alive and well and fiercely defending Penguin's name. Oswald couldn't contain his proud grin when, instead of shaking Gordon's offered hand, Martin kicked him right in the nerve under the kneecap. The boy's movement was quick and precise, just like Penguin had taught his brilliant conspirator. By the look of Jim's startled grimace and clenched jaw, the lesson was learned on the A+.

Oswald cared deeply for his boy. Somehow through all the madness that happened, they managed to forge a connection. More than once, he contemplated keeping Martin as his apprentice and future successor, giving him home and a long, happy life. That last part was problematic, though. In the short time Oswald had Martin under his protection, the boy's life was in grave danger several times, and the ten-year-old child witnessed the horrors that not many grown-ups did during their whole lifetime. Just being close to the Penguin painted a huge target on Martin's back, and he probably wouldn't have survived the year of constant battles. Oswald himself barely did. 

That's why he was convinced that the decision he made when Martin had been freed was the right one. For once in his life, Oswald acted selflessly and with the purest intentions at heart.

Penguin had two ex-assassins released from prison. The couple were former employees of Carmine Falcone and decided to retire when he did, living in peace away from crime until they were found and arrested by the GCPD. That suspiciously coincided with Sofia's return to Gotham. Their incarceration was most probably her punishment for refusing to get back into the business and work on her side. As expected, the city denied two ex-criminals a second chance and sentenced them to decades in prison, where they would've probably died without seeing each other again.

That's where Penguin intervened. After Sofia was no longer a threat, he broke them out, provided them with new identities, money, and a place to live in Blüdhaven. Not as an act of charity, of course. He needed people capable of protecting Martin but unwilling to get messed up in criminal deeds ever again. Who would be better for the job than a couple of middle-aged assassins turned away from the business and starting a new peaceful life? Besides, if the money he paid them wasn't enough motivation to take good care of the boy, then the threats to them and their loved ones certainly were. 

When the couple met Martin, Oswald was pleasantly surprised that they knew ASL and could teach their young ward to communicate by other means than writing and sketching. Oswald never even considered sign language as a useful tool for silent conversations between non-mute people before. Then again, Penguin was never a high-class assassin whose life depended on the silence and synchronized cooperation. 

The three of them seemed to get along very well, which was further confirmed by Martin in letters he and Penguin exchanged in secrecy. Among the first things Oswald did after the reunification, was checking up on his young conspirator. Martin was greatly relieved to learn that both Penguin and Riddler had survived the war. 

Edward was also delighted to reconnect with Martin; he never missed a chance to sneak a riddle or two inside Oswald's letters. Oswald wouldn't be surprised if Riddler was exchanging separate messages with Martin; both his boys were mischievous little devils, and could always be up to something ridiculous together. Over the short time Edward was keeping Martin safe, and these two months since the reunification, Ed seemed to grow almost as attached to Martin as Oswald was. Something was definitely special about that boy if he managed to melt even Riddler's cold heart and somehow meet his sky-high standards. Ed was asking Oswald when will they see Martin almost as often as the boy did.

All of them agreed to meet soon, but Oswald forbade Martin and his guardians from returning to Gotham, at least until some order is restored. 

Now Edward was trying to hastily teach Oswald to understand ASL on a basic level while they were sitting in the backseat of their car on the way to Blüdhaven. They've started these lessons since they decided to meet, and Oswald wished he had more time. Unsurprisingly, his genius boyfriend was fluent in sign language, having learned it when he was in Arkham — there was a textbook on it and a half-intelligible mute inmate. No rest for Riddler's restless mind. Alas, Oswald didn't have such a sharp memory and had a hard time following Edward's quick hands. He silently cursed himself for not finding time to study it earlier. 

Thankfully, Riddler was patient enough, and aside from a few sassy remarks about Oswald's questionable awareness, he was a great teacher. As they were closing to the park they chose as a meeting place, Oswald was able to understand slow signing and even sign a few words himself. He only hoped this knowledge wouldn't disappear as soon as he meets Martin. 

Their limo stopped, and after a short argument about leaving the cane in the car — which Oswald won by stating he can always lean onto Ed for support — they entered the park hand-in-hand, Oswald leading his both Edwards beside him. They've decided to allow themselves to act like a couple, at least during this little vacation. Oswald was already delighted about it — holding Riddler's hand in public sent pleasant shivers down his spine and made his heart flutter faster. The feeling was apparently mutual as Ed leaned into the touch even more, and they walked side by side as almost one inseparable being. They stuck out with Oswald's bandaged head and unusual gait and Edward's shining green suit, but it didn't bother them in the slightest. After all, they both reveled in the spotlight, especially when they had a chance to share it. 

They approached the fountain, and there he was — Martin, together with his guardians, smiling at them and chatting via sign language. Two former assassins looked happy and peaceful, like simple citizens. Although that was nothing new for them. A naturally inconspicuous appearance was one of their greatest weapons during their days of paid murders. They used to get very close to their targets due to the innocent demeanor. That is, when they weren't donning creepy animal masks and storming bullets all around them.

The man — who now lived under the name Adrian Nelson — was big and kind-looking. He resembled a teddy bear with his ample belly, pink cheeks, soft grey eyes, and curly brown beard. The woman — Janice Nelson — looked almost as innocent as her husband. She had a bright smile, dark skin, and dark hair in a bob cut with the fringe at the front. To any onlooker, they seemed to be just a middle-aged couple with their son on a walk this sunny afternoon. Oswald knew better. It would take them mere seconds to kill anyone threatening them or Martin, with or without the weapons they undoubtedly had hidden in their neat casual clothes. They even taught the boy some moves aside from ASL as well, which was good. 

To avoid startling the dangerous couple, Oswald called them from a respectful distance. They paused their silent conversation and turned to face Penguin and Riddler. 

They were instantly recognized, and Adrian waved at them with a kind smile. "Heya Mr. Cobblepot, Mr. Nygma!" he called. Janice smiled and nodded her hello. 

Martin didn't bother with greetings and just leaped into Oswald's embrace, pushing air from his lungs in the process. Oswald happily reciprocated the hug, ruffling his boy's thick curls and pressing his smaller frame close. 

"Martin, I'm so glad to see you!" he squeezed the boy's shoulders when they pulled away to look at each other. 

Martin looked well. His rounded cheeks were healthy pink, a glint in dark eyes still mischievous and lively, boyish smile happy, brown curls unruly in the soft wind, and his whole frame slightly taller than Oswald remembered. He wore a well-crafted blue coat and striped light-grey suit pants. Penguin was immensely pleased to see that Martin kept some of the immaculate fashion tastes he tried to instill. 

"Look at you, so handsome! You've grown so much. In a few years, you'll be taller than me!" Oswald gushed. 

Ed beside him snorted. "Not the hardest feat, let's be honest here." Penguin gasped and swatted his cocky boyfriend on the arm. 

Edward and Martin exchanged equally mischievous grins, giggled, and shook hands like good old partners in crime. Except their greeting didn't stop at the handshake. They also bumped their fists, tugged their momentarily entwined fingers, and then spread them apart as if imitating a silent explosion. The scene reminded Oswald of best friends saying hello after a summer break at school. He couldn't contain his touched smile and relished at the warm tightness in his chest, silently wondering when did they start doing that. 

Riddler signed something to the boy, and Martin rapidly nodded with excitement. His guardians, who approached and stood behind their ward, also saw it and nodded approvingly. 

Oswald didn't see Edward's hands clearly from this angle, but he managed to understand Martin's answer, *Great! Right now?* He then looked at Oswald and started to withdraw his notepad from the inner pocket of his coat. 

Oswald stopped his hand, took a deep breath and clumsily signed: *I can understand if you sign slowly.* At least he prayed he didn't mess up, and that was indeed what he said. 

It appeared to be the case as Penguin found himself once again with his arms full of happy Martin. The boy pulled away and signed, much slower this time, *Thank you for giving this a time, it means a lot to me.*

Oswald only wished he had studied it earlier and better. "Unfortunately, I can't sign properly yet, so it'd be best if I spoke aloud." 

*Sure, you all don't have to bother. It's cool you can understand me.* Martin beamed at both Ed and Oswald. Only then he noticed the dog Edward lying lazily behind Penguin, apparently having deemed this place fit for a quick nap. 

*You have a dog?* he asked with an excited grin. 

Oswald picked his yawning bulldog up and proudly presented him to others. 

"Edward, meet Martin, Adrian, and Janice. Friends, please meet Edward." 

The boy and his guardians all stared with bewilderment and almost accusation at the human Edward. 

"For real?" Adrian asked incredulously, and the other two shook their heads in disbelief. 

Ed looked comically appalled and embarrassed. "No! I.. I mean yes but no! I mean, I didn't name him!" he sputtered. Others didn't look convinced; Martin raised an eyebrow skeptically. Oswald burst out laughing at Riddler's scandalized expression. "Oswald did it! He named the dog, not I! Oswald, tell them!" he demanded defensively. 

Ed could be such an adorable man-child sometimes. Oswald was torn between laughing at the hilariousness of the situation and the desire to kiss his cute pouting boyfriend. The second would be difficult with a rather fat bulldog in his arms, so he just kept giggling and buried his face in Edward's green shoulder. 

"Wonderful," Ed grumbled, pouting even more. "Now they'll think my ego knows no bounds at all." 

"It's fine, Eddie, that's common knowledge already," Oswald reassured; they all giggled at Riddler's over-the-top gasp. Oswald decided to take mercy on him. "Oh, very well, it's true. I named my dog after Edward because I missed him too much," he admitted honestly. 

That was met with Adrian's 'aww' and Martin's nod of understanding. He knew better than most how deeply Oswald cared for Ed and how hurt he was after their downfall. The boy started to stroke bulldog's plushy head and got his fingers curiously sniffed and licked in return. 

Riddler hugged Oswald by the waist and placed a light kiss on his temple. Janice whispered something to her husband's ear, he waved his head no and wrapped a hand around her shoulders, reassuringly as it seemed to Penguin. He wondered what that was about. 

"Alright, let's go get ice-cream," Ed announced and clasped his hands with excitement. Honestly, he looked more thrilled by the idea than Martin. Although Adrian seemed to be sharing his sentiment. 

They went to the nearby café. Oswald noticed how Martin kept glancing at the dog, so he offered him to take the leash. The boy beamed at him and practically ran with the overweight bulldog in tow. Edward seemed shocked at the sudden intensive pull but obediently followed at a faster pace, hastily waddling on his short legs and grunting loudly. Martin's guardians laughed at the sight. 

"He wanted a dog for a while now," Janice commented. 

"A good opportunity for him to see if he's really interested," Adrian agreed. 

Oswald huffed a chuckle. "Edward is not exactly what you call an exemplary man's best friend. He's young, kind and cuddly but too lazy for an active young man such as Martin, I'm afraid." 

As a confirmation of his words, the poor pup just gave up on running after the boy and dropped right in the middle of the street, panting heavily and refusing to give in to the pull of his leash. Oswald smirked and moved to pick up his tired little friend when Martin beat him to it, lifted the animal, and pressed a kiss on Edward's plushy head. He was positively giddy when he approached the grown-ups, cuddling the dog close to his chest. He held Edward with one hand and started to sign with the other. Oswald was impressed by Martin's strength — the bulldog wasn't the lightest thing to carry. Especially with the extra pounds he's gotten over the last few months of proper feeding by Olga. 

*I don't want a pug anymore. I want a bulldog like Edward.* 

Janice laughed and scratched behind the dog's ear with her long nails. Edward whined, tilted his head and closed eyes in pleasure. 

"We'll discuss this at home, alright, hun?" she asked Martin with warmth in the voice. This is the first time Oswald saw her being so tender and kind. She was usually the more stern and vicious of the duo. 

Martin nodded enthusiastically and skipped towards the entrance of the café, still carrying the tired dog in his arms. 

Warmth settled in Oswald's chest at the sight of his young conspirator being so happy and carefree. It was apparent that his two chosen guardians loved their ward like a son. That's what Oswald always wanted for the boy: loving people to care for him and a relatively safe environment. His decision to let Martin go was once more proven right. Penguin had a lot of love in him to share, but the danger was waiting around every corner for him and his loved ones. Even if not mortal danger, then all inevitable publicity would've weighed on the young boy, rob him of a carefree childhood. He wouldn't be able to go to an ordinary school and have simple honest friends, being always under the scope and questioning the sincerity of everyone around him. Martin deserves better. 

They bought their ice-cream and sat at the small round table, Martin with his new four-legged friend resting at his feet. They spent some time catching up. 

Oswald and Edward told shortly about their one hell of a year. Martin asked if he could see Penguin's injured eye, and he had to decline politely but promised to show it next time when it heals better. Adrian snorted when Ed told about waking up in a dumpster, claiming to know what it feels like. Janice was especially delighted to hear how Zsasz had almost lost his head; she had some old quarrel with the assassin. 

Martin told about his school. Compared to Sofia's orphanage, this school had stricter rules about bullying, so it wasn't such an issue for him now. There was one attempt to demean him for his inability to speak, but it was cut short by his clever setup of his offenders. Martin lured them in a situation where exactly their tongues and loud voices got them into big trouble. Nobody ever tried to bully him physically, especially after they saw his wrestling practice with Janice after classes. He even made a friend who cared enough to learn ASL for him. His marks were good but not perfect, though only because he found school classes to be too dull and easy. Still, Edward couldn't stress enough how much he was impressed by the boy's intelligence and creativity, as he determined from their letters. Martin beamed at his compliments, and his guardians and Oswald puffed their chests proudly. Everyone knew Riddler didn't give praise for nothing. 

The Nelsons needed something to occupy themselves with now that they were unemployed ex-assassins and also had to support their civilian disguise. Janice started working as a physical education teacher at Martin's school. That way, she was almost always nearby and ready to protect him if needed. It was also a convenient place to teach him self-defense after school. Martin always laughed at how much other children were intimidated by her. Adrian was working at the pub as a bartender and sometimes replaced its manager, he also became the local champion in bowling. Both didn't miss the old murderous days at all but still had practice sparrings from time to time, resolute to stay in form.  

Oswald silently mused what he and Edward would do when — and if — they retire. He supposed he'd just run his club like an honest businessman, maybe even turn it into a franchise. Edward probably could open some sort of PI agency; he's always been good at detective work. People would compete to have their cases investigated by the great Riddler himself. He'll definitely never leave his brilliant mind unoccupied; no age or law restrictions would prevent Edward from showing off how much smarter than others he is. He might even like it better, to be a massive pain in the back of the dumb GCPD and not get arrested for it. 

He was drawn from his daydreaming by Edward giddily asking a riddle in response to Adrian's inquiry about what else they plan to do here in Blüdhaven. 

"In wealth I abound; in water I stand; as fencer I'm valued all over the land. At Venice I'm famous; by farmers I'm prized; respected by law, yet by huntsmen despised. What am I?" 

Martin started to sign even as Riddler was finishing his question. *A bank? You gonna rob a bank?* His eyes lit up. 

Ed leaned forward and signed with a wide conspiratorial grin, *Yes. Three banks, actually.*

"Daamn..." Janice shook her head.

Adrian whistled, impressed. "Ain't it a tad too ambitious?" 

Riddler huffed smugly. "Oh, please, I've done more. It's actually a humble plan, and only because my blueprints could be outdated. Had to leave some room for improvisation." 

*Will you tell us how it went?* Martin asked with hope in his big eyes. 

"Oh, he definitely will," Oswald assured with a huff. "Police have been notified already, I assume." 

"They will be, in two hours and twenty-three minutes," Ed confirmed, still grinning, and apparently not noticing his sarcasm. 

Martin gazed at Riddler in awe while his guardians failed to mask their criticism. Oswald just shook his head and chuckled, having made peace with his lover's manic quirks a long time ago. 

The dog Edward at Martin's feet started to grumble and whine, probably noticed the humans were eating and dared to not share treats with him. 

*Is he hungry?* Martin inquired when his pats and scratches behind the bulldog's ears yielded no results. 

"Not at all, but he'd be delighted to eat something anyway," Oswald chuckled. 

*Can I get a hot-dog for him?*

"He can certainly appreciate the sausage from it. No mustard, though." 

*Awesome! Be right back,* the boy hopped from his seat and pulled the leash, causing more grumbling from the bulldog. 

"Martin, wait up!" Ed called after him and reached the boy in only a few strides with his ridiculously long legs. 

After they left, Janice looked at Adrian questioningly once again and finally got a nod in answer. 

"Umm… So, Mr. Cobblepot…" Adrian began tentatively and hesitated, not sure how to continue. Janice rolled her eyes. She usually lets her husband negotiate significant deals, claiming that nobody would say no to a human teddy bear. And if they do, that humble-looking man can always use 'other' methods of persuasion. But this time, he seemed to stumble for some reason.

By now, Oswald realized they wanted to discuss something with him for a while, and it seemed to be important for the couple. He decided to have mercy on the guy before silence got even more awkward. 

"Please, just Oswald is fine, you know it," he gave a small encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask?" 

"We were wondering if you would be against us... Umm..." Adrian faltered again. 

"We want to adopt Martin as our son officially. Would you be okay with it?" Janice lost her patience and asked quickly, ending her husband's misery. 

Oswald didn't expect this kind of question. He supposed it would be about moving back to Gotham or requesting more salary but not adoption. He pondered it, thinking over all the pros and cons, weighing the consequences and implications. 

It could be beneficial for Martin to have actual loving parents, not just hired guardians. And they do love him; there's no doubt. Anyone could see this is honest and pure parental love, not merely fondness or temporal attachment. And they never pitied Martin for his inability to speak. They reasonably accepted it as a part of him but never treated him as less of a person or a sick, disabled child. Both Adrian and Janice respected the boy and tried to help him grow up a capable man with all the useful skills, even besides martial arts. For instance, Janice taught him how to waltz and shared some tips and tricks of cooking even with limited ingredients. Adrian took him fishing, taught him how to swim, and played baseball with the boy. In one of his letters, Martin wrote that the three of them live kinda like a family, and now Oswald witnessed it himself. 

On the other hand, their past could still reach them and put Martin in danger. It was the very reason Oswald had to part with the brilliant boy himself. But they did leave the criminal life behind, cut all ties with the Gotham's underworld, besides the Penguin. Blüdhaven wasn't much better in terms of crime level, but still, it was safer, with stable power balance inside and outside of the law. No gang wars or deranged psychopathic clowns running around with explosives. And if there were, Martin would have two parents, ready to give their lives to protect him. Not only because they were hired to do so but because he'd be their son. It would also be more convenient to have legal family rights in case the guardians' status won't be enough. But what if they ever decide to have a child of their own? Would they be able to love both children equally, despite blood connections? 

Both ex-assassins shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze. Penguin realized he was silent for a few minutes and was blankly staring at them. 

"Look, we know we have a questionable past, we aren't the most conventional parents for an eleven-year-old boy. We also know you got us out of prison and hired us only to be his guardians, not to get too attached and become his family," Adrian said, suddenly regaining his confidence. "But we care about him deeply. We love Martin and would love to call him our son." 

Janice nodded, "Yes, I personally never thought of having a child before meeting him. I never even liked kids to begin with. Maybe you remember how tentatively I agreed to protect him, and I did only because you were good to us, and the job didn't entail anything illegal." Oswald nodded; he did remember. "But only just a few weeks later, I realized that I've never been happier. Martin is a wonderful young man, brilliant and endearing. It's the first time I've ever felt something that's usually called a maternal love. We want Martin to be happy, have a lovely childhood, and support him in whatever he chooses to do with his life."

Adrian nodded readily, his mellow smile mirroring his wife's. Oswald was honestly touched by their words. He certainly understood what Janice meant; he also never thought possible for himself to get so attached to a child until Martin. The same was true for Ed. After a few moments, Janice spoke again, a bit more hesitantly.

"And I think he'd be glad to stop thinking about himself as an orphan," she looked down and added after a short sigh. "Martin never talks about it, puts on a brave face like he always does," she chuckled fondly. "But even with loving people in his life, it's important for a child to have someone he can call parents. Blood-related or not. Believe me, I know," she added quietly. Oswald read her file, Janice lost her parents when she was six, and never got adopted.

Adrian covered her hand with his own, and two ex-assassins smiled at each other. The way they spoke and behaved, the way Martin was at ease with them — everything confirmed they all had a real opportunity to become a happy family. 

Still, the more Oswald pondered, the more he was sure of one simple truth: it wasn't his decision to make, he shouldn't even have a say in the matter, to be honest. The most important thing was Martin's opinions and wishes. None of Oswald's beliefs or doubts mattered in this case. His only hope for Martin to be happy couldn't be settled by logic and reasoning. 

"I understand. Did you already speak to Martin about this?" he asked the most crucial question. 

"No, we didn't know what our boundaries were in this case," Janice admitted. "We are your employees, after all, and we are professionals first and foremost." 

Oswald nodded. "Good. Then talk to him, ask his opinion. It's the only thing that matters. I only want him to be happy, loved, and safe. If he agrees you can provide all that for him and accepts you as his parents, then I'll be delighted to call him Martin Nelson." 

They hugged each other, barely containing their excitement and relief, tears shimmering in their eyes. Oswald chuckled. So much for cold deadly assassins. 

"I also want you to know that my continued financial support won't stop if you three become a legal family. Whatever happens, you'll still have access to that account I made for Martin. As long as I'm able, I'll ensure he has everything he needs." 

"Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot, Oswald," Adrian said whole-heartedly. "We won't fail you and Martin." 

"No need to thank me, it's his decision to make," Oswald smiled and noticed Martin returning with both Edwards. The dog one in his arms once again, delightedly licking around his mouth and panting loudly. The human Edward held a huge pink cotton candy in one hand, opening the door for them with the other. 

Martin put the dog down and signed with a roguish smirk playing on his lips: *I take you high into the sky, but you don't have to fear. I'll give you view from a bird's-eye. Sit back and feel the atmosphere. What am I?*

"Oh, good Lord," Oswald groaned. "Ed, we left you alone with Martin for only a few minutes! What have you done to our boy?" he lamented. 

"Oof, you're wrong to think it's his first riddle," Adrian huffed and shook his head fondly. 

"You're getting better at this," Janice praised, and Martin beamed in response. 

"That's what I said," Riddler nodded, grinning like a particularly proud Cheshire Cat. "All credits for that riddle go to Martin," he gestured at the boy with a slight bow like presenting an esteemed performer. 

*Do you give up?* Martin tilted his head, still smirking that oh so familiar Riddler's giddy smirk like he caught his victims off balance and gained the upper hand. 

Oswald groaned and dropped his head onto his arms resting atop the table, feigning resentment. But in truth, he was subtly wiping the tears that never failed to appear at the sight of his two boys getting along so well. Others giggled at his charade. 

"Ferris-wheel?" Penguin grunted from his hideout and lifted his head to look at happily nodding Martin.

"Correct! There's one on the other side of the park. Anyone up for a ride?" Ed asked in a tone that didn't suggest a refusal possible. They left the café together and headed towards the rides.

Turned out, Ed bought that pink cotton candy for Oswald, and it was considerably plucked from one side already, which he adorably tried to hide with a sheepish smile. They ended up swatting each other's hands from the last sweet lumps until Martin sneaked up behind them and snatched the rest of the treat for himself, smirking haughtily at two stunned criminals. His smirk grew into a full proud grin when Adrian congratulated him on a nice catch.

The walk was quite long, and by the end of it, Oswald was leaning heavily on Edward's arm, trying to ignore his sassy remarks about 'smart' decision to leave the cane in the car. Martin and dog Edward got a ride on Adrian's shoulders; the big man didn't even seem to notice their added weight. Martin, from his high position, joked that Oswald was now technically the shortest person of the whole group. Indeed, Janice was taller than him by a few inches, and even Ed didn't reach Adrian. Penguin huffed and pouted but had nothing to contradict the statement, much to everyone's glee. 

Adrian stayed on the ground with the dog while others boarded one booth on the ferris-wheel. Oswald was never a fan of heights, but Edward's steady hand on his waist managed to keep him calm and even enjoy the view without unpleasant associations with flying on a similar level in a blimp full of the deadly toxin. Martin didn't seem to be bothered and claimed he would never get tired of this view, each time he's here feels like the first. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the rides. Oswald carefully avoided too crazy ones, unlike Ed, who turned into the most adorable creature, gushing over the fantastic feelings of adrenaline and endorphins affecting him each time he felt like he was about to die there. The man was also rattling about the real chances to die on the rides, which was more than a bit disturbing for Penguin but somehow made things more exciting for his boyfriend. 

It turned out Edward had never been to an amusement park before, as he quietly confessed to Oswald, who gave him a long tight hug and promised to take him to the Gotham's park when it's functional again. He still remembered his own joy when they visited it with his mother; especially those few times when she had managed to scrape up enough money for at least one or two rides. 

When it was time to part, Oswald offered Martin and his guardians to take the dog with them, seeing as the boy couldn't get enough of him. Martin eagerly agreed and hugged Penguin, promising to take good care of Edward until they meet again the day after tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

Riddler went on his first heist of the night while Penguin had to meet with business partners. The meeting was predictable and uneventful yet productive enough. It won't help him with illegal activities in Gotham, but it'll secure a base of operations here, which is always helpful. Oswald couldn’t wait until he joins his lover for the remaining two heists. If he was honest with himself, he also missed the thrill of the game, that irreplaceable adrenaline rush after being almost caught or killed, even though such incidents during his operations were usually considered a failure. But even more than that, he craved to see his brilliant boyfriend in action. It's been too long, and their last joint bank heist didn't bring back fond memories to either of them. 

When they finally met at the backdoor entrance to the second bank, Oswald noticed Edward's obvious disappointment in the Blüdhaven police: they didn't increase security or show up to try and stop him at all. He muttered that even Bullock probably could've solved his clues within that amount of time. And it's not like they didn't believe in the seriousness of Riddler's intentions; he did send them a severed human hand covered in golden glitters and holding a note, after all. They just turned out to be too stupid to figure it out or too incompetent to care. Well, at the very least Ed had fun planning and executing the heist itself, it was evident by how giddily he placed tricky contraptions before patrolling guards could spot him, and how excitedly he grasped Penguin's arms or shoulders every time his traps got sprung.

Oswald listened to his boyfriend's grumbling about the idiotic BPD while clearing out the safes in the vault. He suppressed a laugh at the fact that Ed was indeed complaining about robbing a bank too easily. Penguin could barely relate; he liked it when such a crime was committed silently and without a hitch. But for the sake of his beloved partner, he supposed he could afford some amount of risk: Oswald wanted Riddler to have fun during this little vacation first and foremost. The money wasn't essential, just a nice bonus. 

That's why he 'accidentally' tripped a wire on his way to the last safe, while Ed was already carrying bags full of money to one heap in the center. Oswald saw a red light blinking as a sign of the silent alarm going off. According to Riddler’s research, local police usually arrived within nine minutes; at this time of night, they'll be here in six. 

Riddler was finishing spraying a huge swirling green question mark on the wall when they heard distant wailing of the police sirens. 

"Oswald, do you hear that?" Riddler asked in wonder. "They came! They solved it!" his face lit up akin to a kid who just found Santa's presents under the Christmas tree. 

"I believe so, my dear partner," Oswald agreed. "Let's get going then, shall we?" 

"We won't be able to make it with all the money," Ed nodded at the stacked bags full of cash and even some gold. They were planning to carry them to their car in no rush at all. The bank guards were all dead or unconscious after getting into Riddler’s electrical traps. Usually, Penguin would hire some muscle to do all the heavy lifting for him, but this time Ed wanted it to be only them, plus a driver outside. And Oswald long since came to terms with his inability to deny this man anything.

"No, dear, we won't. Let's grab what we can and get out before the police surround us," Oswald had no intention of getting caught here. His little stunt was just for Riddler’s excitement, not to give the BPD any real chance. 

"Wait a second, Ozzie. Are you suggesting we just leave it here for them?" Edward asked in disbelief. 

"Do you have other ideas, Edward?" Oswald suspected where this was going. 

"I guess I do," he murmured with an excited grin, stalking closer to Penguin. "If I drink, I die. If I eat, I'm fine. What am I?" Ed asked, flamboyantly gesticulating until he stopped inches from him. 

Yep, his suspicions were correct. "You want to set it on fire," he answered, withdrawing matches from his pocket with a sly smile. 

"So smart, my little bird," Riddler praised before claiming Oswald's lips in a quick but heated kiss that stole his breath in a matter of seconds. Ed also managed to snatch the matchbox from his hand in the process. He lit one after the last peck on the lips. 

Oswald's head was spinning after this display of passion, but he willed himself to focus as Riddler threw the burning match right into the pile of money. They took a few heavy bags each and approached the emergency exit — Edward insisted it's the only one, besides the main door, that opens automatically when the fire alarm goes off. The one they used to enter was most probably overrun by the police now. They waited and watched as fire was quickly devouring the bank's treasures until thick smoke reached the fire alarm sensor on the ceiling. The next moment Oswald heard the door click open as water started sprinkling all over the place. 

Penguin and Riddler stumbled outside, both laughing maniacally because right as they blocked the emergency exit door behind them, the shout of 'BPD! Hands in the air!'  reached their ears. Oswald peeked in a small barred window of the door and caught a glimpse of cops running around the pile of still actively smoldering bills. 

The heart was beating frantically in Oswald's chest when they reached the car and dropped their loot in the trunk. He had to admit that adrenaline rush and tension he felt from almost being caught sent all kinds of electrical shivers down his spine. It was unspeakably delightful to experience such a relief right after narrowly escaping danger. 

He tried to steady his panting as they slumped on the backseat, and their car moved towards the last bank for tonight. Or at least he attempted to draw a breath but was stopped by the hungry lips pressed flush against his. Riddler's heated body quickly straddled his lap and long nimble fingers threaded through his hair, probably ruining the haircut beyond repair. Oswald wouldn’t have it any other way. All too soon, though, he had to withdraw to get at least some air in his burning lungs. Two lovers pressed their foreheads together and looked into each other's eyes, still giggling and breathing frantically, sharing the electrified hot air between them. 

"Well, well, Oswald. I believe you are due to be thoroughly punished tonight," Riddler drawled sultrily, a dangerous yet lusting glint in his dark eyes behind the glasses.

Oswald lost his ability to speak for a few moments, only capable of gulping at his lover's tone and implications, feeling his face going beet-red. He was almost ready to suggest skipping the last bank and going straight to the hotel to fulfill Riddler’s threat instead. 

"Alright. But why?" Oswald asked and didn't even care how small his voice suddenly sounded. 

"Oh no, Mister Penguin, you didn't actually think your little diversion would go unnoticed, did you?" Ed mockingly cooed. 

Oswald rolled his eyes. "That's just not fair, Edward, you're too smart for your own good," he huffed at Riddler's smug nodding. "What gave me up?" 

"It was a nice attempt, but silent alarm lights and your calm demeanor showed me the truth. Hence, punishment," Ed whispered to Oswald's ear and bit on the earlobe. He couldn't hold a surprised gasp and pathetically whimpered when hot tongue licked the damage after sharp teeth. "Are you going to explain yourself, little bird?" he asked in a low, threatening voice that sent blood rushing right to Oswald's lower stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Riddler. I just wanted you to have fun," Oswald played along and looked in his boyfriend's lusting eyes with the most innocent expression he could muster at the moment, batting his eyelashes and smiling timidly. 

It got the desired effect as Riddler growled and hungrily claimed his lips once again, licking inside his mouth possessively, hand in his hair tugging his head back for better access, and lithe body pressing Oswald deeper into the seat. Oswald moaned into the kiss and sucked onto his beautiful lover's sweet tongue, running his hands up and down the obscenely long slender thighs straddling him. 

They withdrew to catch a breath. "And oh how much fun I had, my love, thank you," his gloved hands cupped Oswald's face, a hint of warmth seeping through the material as Ed gazed at him with mesmerized adoration. 

"For almost getting us caught? You're always welcome, Riddler dear," he chuckled breathlessly. 

After a few more moments of stunned gazing, Ed seemed to have broken through his trance and grinned like an overjoyed shark. "Did you see their faces when they ran around the pile of burning money like a bunch of headless chickens?" he cackled and buried his face in Oswald's shoulder. 

"Did I ever!" Penguin laughed too. "What do you think they tried to do first, save money, or try and run after us?" 

"I bet money is more important to those excuses of higher primates than the people who tried to steal it," Ed chuckled, snaking his long arms around Oswald's waist and relaxing on top of him more comfortably.

"You're amazing, Eddie," he placed a kiss on Edward's temple before resting his own head on his lover's shoulder. He also wrapped his arms around Riddler’s narrow torso and melted into the hug, sighing contentedly. 

"We both are, my lovely partner," Ed murmured and pulled his arms tighter, securing both men closer together. 

The car soon pulled to a stop. They reluctantly disentangled their limbs, and Ed jumped out, eager to get started. Oswald got out more carefully; his leg was giving him a hard time ever since the park walk. Perhaps the decision to forgo the brace and leave the cane wasn't too wise after all. Then again, running with heavy bags to the car wasn’t part of his plans at that time.  

"We're a bit ahead of schedule, but we can get into the building and wait in the staff offices, there should be no cameras or guards on the way, and all clerks no doubt are gone already," Ed said as he picked the lock with practiced movements. Oswald made a mental note to ask his boyfriend to teach him some tricks of lockpicking someday; his own skill was shamefully lacking as he usually preferred destroying the lock, too impatient to fumble with small tools. 

They walked through the dimly lit maze of corridors, carpeted floors muffling their steps. Generic cheap landscape paintings hung on the beige walls and failed to make the passage any less monotonous. Oswald was about to ask if Ed was confident they were going the right way when they suddenly crashed into a guard, who stood stirring his freshly made coffee right around another corner. The middle-aged guy looked startled and stared at them in shock swiftly transforming into fear, which was comically contrasting with his gruff face and bulky frame. 

"Ey! Ya ain't supposed to be in'ere," he rasped, dropping the plastic coffee cup he was holding and hunching defensively, like preparing for the attack. The steaming brown liquid got rapidly soaked into the carpet, leaving only a fading scent behind. He furrowed his brows after a second. "Ain't ya Gotham freaks? From papers?" 

Oswald scowled at the derogatory term. Edward standing slightly behind him scoffed, probably at the stupidity of the guard, who didn't think to keep this realization to himself. They would've killed him anyway, but it still was tremendously idiotic of him to admit recognition of the notorious criminals openly. 

The guy started to reach behind his back with one hand. Instantly Penguin lunged at him, pushing the bulky man to the wall and elbowing him in the chest. The guard's strength matched his oafish appearance as Oswald learned when the brute grabbed and painfully squeezed his arm. He winced and was expecting a punch, but it never came. Instead, he heard gurgling sounds and saw blood gushing from the wound in the guard's neck after Edward pulled his switchblade out of it and drove it in the idiot's guts next. Oswald successfully wrestled his arm from the weakened grip and stared in awe at his magnificent partner, admiring his savage grace. 

Riddler was scowling and growling something unintelligible as he repeatedly stabbed the guard's abdomen, his whole posture akin to a raging lion tearing its victim to shreds, ruthless and unrelenting. Blood splatters covered his beautiful face and glasses; perfectly shaped cheekbones looked deadly sharp in dim light. A seething wildfire in his eyes threatened to set the whole building ablaze any second. He was gripping poor oaf by the collar with one hand, repeatedly driving the blade in and out of his guts with the other; thick blood washing over Edward's green gloves appeared to be almost black. Pristine haircut got noticeably messed, and separated locks stuck out from under the tilted bowler hat; glasses went slightly askew. 

Oswald was so mesmerized by his lover's merciless glory that he missed the moment when their victim's meek attempts to struggle stopped and limbs slacked. He forgot to count how many strikes it would take to put down this particular brute. He had no doubt Ed didn't bother to do it either; the man seemed to be entirely consumed by his primal fury. 

"Don't touch my Penguin! " Riddler roared into the dying moron's terrified face, baring his perfect white teeth in a wolfish grin as his victim slowly sank to the floor. 

This is probably the most feral state of his lover Oswald had a pleasure to witness. His breath hitched at the realization that Riddler became so enraged only because the oaf grabbed Oswald’s arm. Marvelous. Such a murderous display of possessiveness caused his heart to flutter wildly, threatening to break out from the ribcage; it felt unbelievably thrilling to be wanted and protected so furiously. Oswald got lightheaded at another glaring reminder that he really means a lot to Edward, he matters, he's treasured. 

Soon Penguin realized that the guard's wheezing and gurgling stopped, as serene silence filled the corridor like the calm before — or after? In between? — the storm. The only sounds were Oswald's frantic heartbeat thumping in his ears and Edward's heavy breathing. He noted Riddler’s frown was still in place, and nostrils were flaring angrily. His enraged boyfriend then turned to face Oswald, and he was momentarily consumed by the whirlwind of emotions boiling in Riddler’s eyes. Nobody ever looked at him like that. Like he was the most precious person in the world. Like only his well-being mattered, and his magnificent lover would do anything for him. 

Red splatters adorned Edward's perfect features, making him look even more dangerous. An apex predator.  His predator. This deadly power had an immense pull on Oswald. Like a moth to the flame, he was drawn closer to his boyfriend, stopping mere inches apart, tilting his head back to keep gazing in the voids of dark eyes behind the bloodied glasses, hot breath ghosting on his face. 

"Riddler…" he breathed, feeling like a mouse in front of a snake. Completely mesmerized, enthralled by the sweet danger. 

He didn't get a chance to say anything else as Riddler crushed their lips together in a brutal kiss, teeth clinking and tongues invading other's mouths. Oswald's heart raced even faster from the coppery taste of blood, which might be one of the splatters he licked from Ed's lips, or it might be his own blood drawn by sharp teeth biting him. Either way, it only added to the feeling of irresistible deadly menace. 

The bloodied switchblade made a muffled clang as it hit the carpeting when Edward's hands moved to hold Oswald, squeeze his shoulders and run through his hair, undoubtedly leaving blood all over him. Not that Oswald could care about that right now. All that mattered at the moment was the strong, tall body bursting with combustive energy and firmly pushing him to the wall opposite of where their victim's limp body sat. His own hands could only latch onto the lean muscles of Riddler’s shoulders through the green suit while his legs shakily complied and shuffled backward. 

One of the paintings dropped to the floor after the harsh impact with Penguin’s back. But even in this delirious state, Ed was considerate and caring as his bloodied hand gently saved Oswald's head from hitting the wall too. And only seconds later, that hand fisted in his hair, pulling Penguin’s head further back and down as they deepened the kiss more than he thought possible. Oswald's bitten tongue and lips hurt from the brutal treatment, and he loved every second of it. The passionate love for his deadly lover threatened to tear his chest apart and was escaping in the form of moans and whimpers at each lick and bite. 

They reluctantly pulled away, breathing heavily, lips still inches apart, and stared into each other's eyes. The fire in Riddler’s merciless gaze burned brighter still, now with passion instead of fury. His lips swollen and bright red, glasses slid almost to the tip of his nose. Oswald had to summon all remaining self-control not to claim those lips again and remind them of their current setting. 

"Shouldn't we rob a bank, my dear?" he inquired, still panting, and adjusted Edward's glasses with both hands. 

"I said we were early; you have some time to make better use of those delicious lips of yours, little Penguin," Riddler smirked smugly at the blush Oswald felt spreading over his face. They were really going to do it here, didn't they? Or did Ed mean just more kissing? Well, in that case, Oswald will blame his sassy boyfriend for not being specific and giving him ambiguous ideas. And for being so damn irresistible. 

"Very well," he murmured as he snatched Riddler’s bowler hat and put it on his own head, smirking slyly. 

His lover's gaze became even hungrier, and he started to reach for Oswald's lips again. Penguin had different plans, though. In one swift motion, he switched their positions, so Riddler’s back was now pressed to the wall. Breath left his boyfriend's lungs with a huff at the impact, and he stared at Oswald with surprise that quickly transformed into a swirl of emotions, forming an utterly besotted expression. He shivered at the thought that this look on Edward's perfect face was reserved for him and him alone. 

"God, you're beautiful, Ozzie," Riddler muttered huskily with a profoundly reverent look in dark eyes, his hands trembling where they rested on Penguin's back. Oswald couldn't hold back a pleased smile. He was hesitant with accepting Edward's compliments at first, but by now, he had no more room to doubt their sincerity. Ed didn't just say those things to make Penguin feel better, he truly meant them, and for a few weeks already, Oswald has started to believe his every word.

Penguin didn't waste more time and moved his mouth to ravish his lover's angular jawline and impossibly long neck, instantly rewarded with delighted deep sounds resembling a mixture of purr and growl. Penguin swallowed every little groan and encouraged more of them with occasional bites and licks between open-mouthed sloppy kisses. All the while, his hands were blindly unbuttoning the shimmering green jacket and velvety waistcoat, proceeding to release the patterned dark shirt from trousers. Riddler threw his head back in pleasure, which gave Oswald even better access to his sweet neck. 

He stopped his teasing when the suit and shirt were successfully out of the way. Edward's impatience was showing in the hectic desperation of his grip on Oswald's hips. After the last lengthy lick along the pulsating vein, Penguin stood on tiptoes to whisper sensually right into his lover's ear, "I hope you realize, you're the only one who can make me kneel with just a glance, Riddler." 

Oswald chuckled at the deep feral growl that escaped his ruthless partner's throat. That, combined with the ravenous look in scalding dark eyes and firm grip of long fingers, was just the reaction he was going for. Oswald knew how to turn on his manically possessive boyfriend beyond measure with the help of his words. Remind him just how much power he has over someone as powerful as the Penguin. He was very much the same in that regard, relishing in his ability to turn the smugly marvelous Riddler, this haughty ‘cold logician’, into a helplessly trembling mess begging for his mercy. 

Completely satisfied with his work, Penguin smirked and slowly sank to the floor, not tearing his gaze away from the predatory dark eyes above him. His bad leg ached in protest of another endeavor, but he learned to ignore that pain long ago. Especially in similar situations, it was more than worth it. 

He hastily fumbled with the belt buckle, unzipped and lowered green trousers down the gaunt thighs, getting closer to his target. Oswald tugged his gloves off, desperately needing as much skin-to-skin contact as their current predicament allowed. Penguin ran his now bare hands up and down the warm skin, relishing at how it trembled under his touch. He was looking up through his eyelashes, breath hitching from the raw, unmasked hunger in Riddler’s gaze. Oswald was drunk on being the reason for such behavior. He was so much wanted, desired, loved. 

"So tell me, Mr. Riddler," Oswald smirked at the sharp inhale caused by his sultry tone and the exalting title. He knew how Ed still secretly shivered inwardly each time he called him Riddler. Sometimes Penguin would even tease him, refusing to speak that name, although never for too long, and definitely without any spite he had years ago. "What got you so riled up, hmm?" he asked, knowing the answer but eager to hear it all the same. 

Oswald placed a few wet, open-mouthed kisses on the tender silky skin close to Ed's inner thighs, relishing in the impatient groan the action caused. His fingers crooked behind the waistband of dark green underwear, slowly tugging it lower. 

"He hurt you, put his dirty paws on my Ozzie. Nobody touches my bird and lives," Riddler practically growled in a deep voice and gently cupped Oswald's jaw, tracing a thumb over his cheek in a swirling motion, probably smearing the remaining blood like a warpaint. Penguin leaned into the touch and smiled at his lover with gratitude. He shall wear this mark with pride, as an evidence of the extent of Riddler’s love for him. 

"That's right, darling. I'm yours as much as you are mine," he murmured right before busying his mouth with pleasing his sweet lover, eliciting wanton groans — a glorious melody to his ears. 

Thankfully, the soft carpeting reduced the strain on his bad leg. It also prevented Edward's moans of pleasure from echoing through the hallway; they didn't want to attract the attention of another wandering late-night worker. Not right now, at least. 

Oswald pinned his boyfriend's bony hips flush to the wall, not letting him move too much and helping him find support for his shivering legs. One of Ed's hands laid on his shoulder, fingers digging hard in pleasure. Another hand he felt on the back of his head right under the snatched bowler hat, guiding and helping but not controlling and not preventing him from setting his own pace. Oswald was grateful for the support; he still wasn't completely confident in his skill. Although, according to Ed's trembling body and sounds of pleasure, he was doing a pretty good job. 

"S-so good, mmmy Oz-zie," husky slurred praise was the best reward Oswald could ask for. He hummed appreciatively and heard ecstatic moan in response. And could there ever be a music more divine?

Before Edward, he never expected to be so thrilled by the fact that he belonged to someone. Even the mere concept seemed completely foreign and unacceptable to Penguin. But now, feeling Riddler’s power surge through him, strong hand holding the nape of his neck, Oswald didn't feel threatened, degraded, or oppressed. On the contrary, he felt blissfully safe, loved, and cherished. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Ed belonged to him in equal measure. It was mutual and open codependency, one they both loved. 

He glanced up through the eyelashes and couldn't help but feel pride at Edward's positively ruined appearance. Cheeks flustered red, swollen lips slightly parted, and wild eyes locked with his. The great deadly Riddler was coming entirely undone under Oswald's delicate touches. Dangerous wildfire in his eyes slowly transformed into an overwhelming tenderness and protectiveness. It enveloped Oswald in the safe, warm blanket of Edward's infinite love, and he felt himself mewl in delight. 

Penguin decided to tease his beautiful lover a bit more. He stopped his motions, leaned back a little, and asked in the most lascivious voice he could muster, "Do you enjoy the view, Edward? I'm on my knees for you and behind me the body of a man you killed for me." 

Ed sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes widened, he looked behind Penguin’s back for what seems like the first time since it all started. From how intently he kept eye contact before, Oswald wouldn't be surprised if his lover truly grasped the whole picture only now. Riddler looked at the bloodied corpse of the unfortunate guard and traced his awestruck gaze back to Penguin’s form at his feet. Oswald noticed that the man was still holding his breath, mouth slightly agape as he probably tried to commit this picture to the memory. Oswald gave him time to grasp the whole situation and slowly worked with his hands while giving his mouth a brief rest. 

"Yes, I-I do... En-enjoy it, that is... I love you, Oswald," Ed croaked earnestly, seemingly on the verge of tears from the overwhelming emotions. 

Oswald will never get tired of hearing those words. He beamed and leaned forward, deciding that his actions shall speak of his love for now. Once again, he drowned in heavenly sounds escaping his beautiful Edward. Oswald was losing himself in Ed's pleasure; he absolutely loved it, loved making his boyfriend feel ecstatic, and so blissed out that he would lose the ability to form coherent sentences. Penguin wanted to worship this godlike body for hours. He'll definitely have a chance later tonight. Riddler was all his: gorgeous body, brilliant mind, and loving soul — all given solely to Oswald, and he will never tire of cherishing this treasure. 

He tried to maintain eye contact, only briefly closing his eye in pleasure; they both enjoyed the extra intimacy it added to the whole process. The brim of the hat was barely allowing it though, blocking his view occasionally, so Oswald moved to take it off. However, his hand was stopped by Riddler’s shaking one. 

"L-leave it.." he rasped and adjusted the hat, tilting it back slightly, enough to get it out of their line of sight. Oswald smirked to himself. Did he just accidentally discover another one of Edward's kinks? How curious. He'll need to 'research' it more thoroughly. 

Edward's gloved fingers pushing his shoulder back told him that his lover couldn't hold back any longer. Oswald hummed his understanding and pinned Ed's hips flush to the wall to support him in case his knees would buckle. Riddler’s sweet groan of ecstasy was almost deafening in the empty hallway. If there was anyone else here, they no doubt heard it. Penguin found that notion amusing. He also moaned in pleasure as Ed fisted his hand still holding and tugging his hair. The pleasant pain only added spice to the whole euphoric experience. 

Oswald placed a few last tender kisses on Ed's trembling thighs before slowly rising to his weary legs. The ache in the bad one was close to unbearable after prolonged strain; he'll have to take painkillers in the car if he wants this night to last. Edward gently helped him get up, caressing his face, not saying a word yet in his blissful afterglow. He pulled Oswald into a long sweet kiss, nothing like their desperate biting before. Oswald melted in his boyfriend's loving embrace, wrapping arms around strong shoulders for support. With Ed, he wasn't ashamed to show his weakness or lean on to him. No masks needed with the person he loves and trusts unconditionally. 

Penguin felt nimble fingers starting to fumble with his suit's buttons, and he gently stopped Edward's advances. Ed broke the kiss and gave him a puzzled look. 

"Ozzie? Don't you wanna-.." but Oswald silenced him with another kiss, he couldn't get enough of Riddler’s soft lips. 

Oswald had an extreme desire to comply and let Edward have his way with him. However, Penguin didn't want to mess up the second robbery before they even reached the vault. Besides, he was getting nearly as much bliss from bringing his boyfriend over the edge as from being pleasured himself. Probably even more. He cherished every second he was able to play with Riddler’s sensitive lean body, providing him immense ecstasy that reverberated in himself, overwhelming him with pure happiness and satisfaction at Ed's delight he caused. 

"Later, my love," he murmured in between tender pecks. "We have a bank to rob."

"But-.."

"Shh," Oswald hushed his sweet boyfriend with a forefinger on swollen soft lips. "No buts, Edward. Or I might decide to punish you for disobedience."

"Was that a threat or a promise?" Riddler purred, licking his lips and really pushing Oswald's self-restraint to the limits. 

"Both, my dear. We have a long night ahead of us," he gave a playful wink and chuckled at how Ed’s eyes lit up at the prospect. 

He put his gloves back on, helped Edward fix his clothes, and returned the bowler hat to its rightful owner, reaching up for one more kiss in the process. They quickly searched the body of the guard. Turned out the man had been trying to reach for the gun tucked behind his belt before Penguin lunged at him on instinct. The keys they got from him will spare Ed from the necessity of lockpicking and provide them crucial moments to catch up with the timing. Riddler retrieved his switchblade and wiped the blood on the guard's uniform. 

Getting to the vault was mostly uneventful thanks to Edward's meticulous planning. He selected the perfect route and time to sneak past the surveillance cameras and bored guards. The layout of this bank prevented him from placing his traps like in the previous one, and sneaking provided more adrenaline from the constant danger of being discovered, thus was more fun, according to Riddler. Oswald could barely relate, but who was he to judge his partner's definition of entertainment. 

Inside the vault, they separated to gather the cash into as many bags as they could carry in one go. They had some time to fool around before they could return the same way they came. But sharp blaring of the alarm broke their deep kiss. 

"It wasn't me this time," Oswald shook his head at Ed's questioning look. 

Riddler’s eyes lit up. "They came! My clue, they solved it!" he was almost jumping in excitement. "Sure, I had to add another one inside the previous bank's vault but still. Seems like Blüdhaven has at least one cop with an IQ above fifty after all." 

Penguin released a deep resigned sigh but didn't bother to hide his fond smile. "I suppose you have another escape route planned for this situation?" 

"Even questioning that is offensive, Ozzie," Riddler smirked smugly. 

"Getting caught during a bank robbery is offensive, honey," Penguin huffed. "Shall we?" 

They picked up the bags, and Edward led the way through the abandoned underground tunnel he discovered in blueprints. They had to shoot the heavy rusted lock on the door hidden behind the shelves in the storage room to get inside. The shot was definitely heard by the guards or the cops, who must be already swarming the main hall by Riddler’s estimate. Once again, they had to run with the heavy bags towards the exit, except this road was much longer. Penguin was gritting his teeth from deep pulsating pain in the right leg, silently cursing his lover's obsessive compulsion to leave clues for law enforcement. It was amusing and even endearing but so very inconvenient sometimes.

"Just a little further, Oswald," Ed reassured quietly so that his voice wouldn't echo in the empty tunnel. Not that they had too many chances of hiding: Oswald could already see faint flashlights around where they entered when he glanced back. They had a decent head start, but their pace was nowhere as fast as that of the trained cops.

"Who in their right mind even builds a tunnel under a bank?" Penguin grumbled. 

"In times of peace, you build me. In case of war, you need me. What am I?" Riddler asked with familiar glee. 

Oswald rolled his eyes but still decided to humor his boyfriend and gave it a thought. 

"An armory?" he tried. 

"A good one, very nice, dear! But not exactly," cheerful pride in Riddler’s smug voice was totally worth the effort, as always. "According to my sources, it wasn't always a bank. This place was planned as a bunker; its construction was financed by the government in case of nuclear war. The vault was supposed to be a waiting room, reinforced to protect refugees from outside danger before they would be checked in and sent down into the living quarters," Edward explained in a hushed voice as they hastily stepped along. 

"That explains its unreasonably thick walls," Oswald remarked. 

"Indeed, it does. A shame that construction had barely commenced when some complications with the property deals were discovered, and the land went into private hands. Still, it was adequately challenging to decipher the military blueprints. I have to admit I wasn't one hundred percent sure this tunnel still existed. It was supposed to be sealed off years ago," Edward confessed casually. 

Oswald almost stumbled. "So you're saying that right now we might be stuck between the police and the dead-end?!" he demanded in disbelief. He wasn't excited by the idea in the slightest, and it instantly sparked his irritation. 

Riddler giggled, skipping a little as he strode. "We'll just have to wait and see, my avian friend."

Oswald gaped at him. "I cannot believe you sometimes, Edward Nygma."

"I know! I'm unbelievable!" Riddler exclaimed, dramatically spreading his long arms with the bags. He was clearly in a very chipper mood, and it was contagious. 

"Remind me, why do I love you, again?" Oswald sighed at his infuriatingly adorable partner.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid there's just no time to count all the reasons..." Oswald couldn’t help but fondly shake his head and huff a chuckle at Edward's shameless flamboyance. "But, here's one." 

Riddler managed to lean down and peck Oswald on the cheek before skipping a few steps ahead and pointing at the bland iron door, with a graceful bow. "After you," he murmured with his irresistible charming smile that instantly melted Penguin’s heart. 

This lock was also too rusted and old to pick. Both men winced at the piercing sound of the shot echoing through the hallway. Oh well, their pursuers won't be here on time anyway, no need to be sneaky anymore. The car was already waiting for them when they emerged a few blocks away from the bank, probably instructed to drive here by Edward. 

Oswald couldn’t hold a groan of relief when he finally collapsed onto the backseat, carelessly throwing bags of money on the floor. He really should've taken his pills before their midnight escapades. 

"Oswald, drink up," Edward's kind voice brought a smile to his face, and Oswald gratefully took the pills and water from his caring boyfriend's warm ungloved hands. "My dearest Penguin had to put so much strain on your leg today. I promise I'll make it up to you," he murmured before placing a tender kiss on Oswald's temple. 

Oswald melted under his boyfriend's sweet touches, feeling blissfully happy, content. Who cares about some pain when this magnificent man looks at him like an adorable lovestruck puppy. 

At the hotel, Ed fulfilled his promise flawlessly. He ran them both a hot bath with scented oils, gently washed away all the blood and grime, basking Oswald in his love and care. A luxurious dinner had been brought by the hotel service despite the late hour. After that, Edward gave his bad leg the best relaxing massage he had ever experienced; nimble fingers kneaded his cramped muscles, bringing delightful relief and effectively chasing soreness away. By virtue of Ed's delicate treatment, Oswald's leg was more than capable of sustaining their remaining night. They had a lot of bottled up adrenaline and excitement to work out after all. 

—☂—

Oswald woke up to soft kisses on his shoulder and a warm hand gently caressing his stomach and chest under the soft duvet. His back was pressed to Edward's lean chest so close he could feel his boyfriend's steady heartbeat. Waking up in Riddler’s loving embrace always felt like heaven. All treasures and power pale compared to the ecstatic bliss overwhelming Oswald at being basked in Ed's tenderness. 

They skipped breakfast completely, preferring to spend more time in bed and their large bath together. It wasn't every day that they could devote all morning to themselves, with their busy schedules. This little vacation presented a perfect opportunity for worshipping each other's bodies, drowning in heated passion and tender cuddles. 

During the lunch brought to their suite, Oswald was once again practicing ASL with Ed when his phone rang. The screen displayed 'Jim Gordon', and instantly Oswald felt waves of irritation and anxiety emanating from Riddler. 

"You think he knows?" 

"Hush dear, let's find out," Oswald covered his boyfriend's hand with his own. Then accepted the call, putting it on the speaker and placing the phone on the table between them so Ed could hear the whole conversation. 

"Jiiim, hello, old friend! It is so nice of you to call and not wake me up at six in the morning," Penguin feigned cheerfulness and added a bit of venom in that remark. He was still sore about Jim waking them up early to borrow a boat from Oswald once. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

"Are you out of your mind? What do you think you're doing?!" Jim made the best impression of a scream in a hushed voice. 

Oswald and Ed exchanged glances; they both knew what this was about. Edward frowned, probably worried that they might have jeopardized their pardon with last night's exploits. Oswald just shrugged and smiled at his boyfriend reassuringly. 

"I think I'm having a delicious lunch right now, thanks for asking. What are you up to this fine morning?" Penguin asked nonchalantly like he was indeed having a casual conversation with a good friend. Ed smirked and shook his head with fondness. 

"Don't play dumb, Oswald. I know what you and Nygma did last night." 

"Oh Jim,  we did a lot of things last night," he didn't miss the opportunity to wink playfully at now blushing Edward. "But I believe it's none of your concern." 

"Cut the bullshit, Penguin," oh, Jim was really pissed if he wasn't phased by his innuendo and even used the nickname. "If it's not my concern, then why do I get a call from the Blüdhaven police in the middle of the night, asking me to help them with a riddle?" 

Oswald and Ed started at each other with equally dumbfounded expressions. Riddler mouthed 'They did what?!', emphasizing it with ASL signs of his one free hand. 

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Jim. Do you need help with a riddle? I have to admit it's not my strongest suit. But I can call Edward. I'm sure he might be persuaded to give you a hint, if you ask nicely, of course."

Ed bit his lower lip to restrain from laughing out loud. It took all of Oswald's willpower to keep his voice steady and serious. 

"Is this all a joke to you? People died, three banks had been robbed last night, the BPD had received clues and riddles about the crime in advance. Does that sound familiar to you?" 

Jim was fuming with anger and basically growling at the other end of the line. Penguin was pretty sure that if they were in the same room, he would've been roughly pinned to the wall by enraged Jim Gordon at this point. He wondered in what manner Riddler would've maimed or slaughtered the unfortunate police Captain if that were to happen. 

"It sounds like an awfully lousy job by the Blüdhaven police," Penguin decided to keep to himself the remark about just how familiar that poor execution was to him: the GCPD was no better most of the time. "Not to gloat or anything, but don't you think they deserved that if they failed to solve a riddle on their own and had to wake you up?" 

Riddler gazed at Oswald with pride and squeezed his fingers in support. Oswald lifted his other hand to brush a strand of soft hair from his gorgeous boyfriend's forehead and straighten his glasses slightly, sharing equally mischievous smiles with the love of his life. 

There was a deep sigh full of suffering. "Oswald, you asked me to negotiate a full pardon for you and Nygma. I told you to behave, and what do you two do? Rob three banks in a neighboring city, leaving a trail of bodies behind!" 

Oswald gritted his teeth at that word. Behave. Like he was some stupid dog on a leash in need of training. Penguin was so very close to shouting everything he thought about that pathetic hypocrite and his worthless, corrupt GCPD. 

But then he saw Edward lifting their still entwined hands and gently pressing his soft lips to Oswald's knuckles. The man was wearing the warmest loving smile, full of tenderness and understanding. It was like a fresh air for fuming Penguin, it calmed him and allowed to breathe without the lump of anger in his throat. 

Oswald nodded gratefully at his boyfriend and managed to continue to speak in the same cheerful manner. 

"James, I have a feeling you're trying to insinuate that Edward and I had something to do with those robberies you mentioned. That is just preposterous!" he huffed loudly for dramatic effect. 

"Is it, Oswald?" 

"It is, Jim, you know I would never jeopardize our pardon for the money," he stated, all the while caressing Edward's face to convey the message, 'but I would for you'. Riddler’s grateful smile was a clear indication that the sentiment was understood. 

"Why are you so dead set on accusing us anyway? Could it be that the local police found some concrete evidence of our involvement?" 

Jim groaned in frustration. "You know they didn't. You both are too good to be that sloppy," Ed visibly preened, smug grin adorning his beautiful face. "But you have to admit that the green sprayed riddle including a line about 'wicked feathered friend' is a bit too specific to be just a coincidence." 

That was news to Oswald; he didn't read all of Riddler’s writings. Edward's grin transformed into a sheepish smile, he ducked his head a little and blushed, forming one of the most adorable pictures Oswald had ever seen. He mouthed  'aww that's so sweet, Eddie',  knowing that his brilliant partner could read lips. Oswald cupped one side of Edward's face to caress him tenderly, absentmindedly tracing perfectly sculpted features with a thumb: his sharp cheekbone, smooth cheek, angular jawline, round chin, silky pink lips...

"That sounds very intriguing, Jim, but I have no idea how or why you connected it to us. Ed and I are-..." 

Penguin’s calm speech was cut off mid-sentence because Riddler opened his soft lips and sucked Oswald's thumb in, hollowing his cheeks and half closing his eyes in silent imitation of erotic bliss. Oswald gaped at the arousing display and barely contained the moan when hot wet tongue swirled obscenely around his thumb. He did fail to stop himself from exhaling a small whimper when sharp teeth grazed his skin playfully but threateningly at the same time. Riddler’s dark eyes were two pools of lustful promises, and Oswald wanted nothing more than to drown in them. 

"Oswald? You still there?" Jim's gruff voice brought a little clarity back to Penguin’s short-circuiting brain. 

"Yes, Jim, forgive me that stumble. I got distracted by Edward nipping and licking my fingers," he explained nonchalantly and apparently shocked both men. Ed's eyes widened in disbelief, and mouth fell open, releasing Oswald's thumb, which he slowly extracted and traced over Riddler’s lower lip, pushing it down slightly, exposing the lower row of perfect white teeth before letting it return to the natural state. 

Jim seemed to be experiencing similar shock if the stunned silence on the line was any indication. After a few long seconds, he cleared his throat and hoarsely uttered. "Oswald, I really don't need to know what you two are... Oh, wait. You meant your dog  Edward?" there was an audible relieved exhale. 

Ed realized what was happening and already was grinning wildly, bringing his hand to cover his mouth. Oswald wore a matching grin: it was a special kind of pleasure to make Jim Gordon uncomfortable, and causing his lovely boyfriend to laugh was a priceless bonus. 

"Why, did you think that human  Edward was lapping at my finger as we speak?" he made sure to sound as scandalized as possible. "Well, well, Captain James Gordon, who would've thought you had such obscene fantasies underneath that holy righteous facade of yours!" 

Ed hid his face in the crook of his elbow to stifle laughter; his shoulders were shaking wildly. Oswald fondly shook his head at the endearing picture and ruffled soft curly locks. 

"I don't-..." Jim growled in frustration. "Stop trying to derail this conversation! I know you're in Blüdhaven right now, Oswald," he revealed like it was some incriminating evidence. 

"I never said I wasn't. I don't recall visiting another city being a crime."

"What are you doing there?" Gordon growled. 

"I don't see why I should explain myself to you, Jim," Penguin let a bit of threatening edge to his voice, it wouldn't do to let Gordon forget his place. He then released a deep sigh. "Are you alone or someone else is listening?" 

"It's only me here, Oswald. It's not exactly permitted for the police Captain to discuss an ongoing investigation with one of its main suspects." Even without seeing Jim's face, Oswald could imagine the man was pinching the bridge of his nose and regretting some life choices that led him to this moment. 

Oswald sighed loudly again, faking more exasperation than probably was necessary. "Very well, Jim, since we're old friends and you're keeping this conversation between us, I suppose I can tell you. If you must know, Ed and I are visiting Martin here in Blüdhaven." 

Ed looked shocked, he tensed and frowned at that admission. Oswald stroked his hand in a calming manner and nodded with reassurance. It seemed to work as Ed visibly relaxed and kept listening to the conversation with interest rather than worry. 

"Martin?" Jim echoed, clearly confused. 

"Yes, Jim. Martin. Do you remember Martin? The same boy Martin, whose death I faked to save him from Sofia. For which you threw me into Arkham to be tortured by Jerome and other lunatics, putting Martin's life in danger again," he added resentfully. Penguin needed to invoke Jim's remorse right now. 

"I remember," Jim mumbled, defeated. "Did you move him to Blüdhaven? Why?" 

Oswald scoffed. Jim wasn't stupid, but some of his questions were beyond naive. "It would be rather cruel and downright idiotic of me to make the poor boy live in the city where he got almost killed on at least three occasions, wouldn't you agree, Jim?" 

There was a small sound, like Jim was holding back an angered defeated groan. It made Oswald smile triumphantly and preen under his boyfriend's adoring gaze. 

"You're lucky Blüdhaven is outside my jurisdiction, and I have more than enough problems here in Gotham, or I would've gotten to the bottom of this."

"Jim, you can't just blindly accuse us of a crime only based on an M.O. similar to the Riddler’s. And why are you calling me about his alleged crimes anyway?" 

There was a moment of uncertain silence before Jim replied. "Because you're friends, and I assumed you knew what he's up to. And reports said robberies were done by a small group of people," Jim probably realized how unconvincing that sounded since he sighed deeply and added, "And also because Nygma blocked my number." 

Ed made a theatrically abashed face, raising his eyebrows and hovering his long fingers over his open mouth in the fakest shameless  'oops' . Oswald burst out laughing in earnest both at his boyfriend's exaggerated expression and the fact that Jim was so done with Riddler that he preferred to call Oswald rather than dial from a different number. 

"Oh, Jim, I'll make sure to tell Ed you asked him to unblock you," he said between giggles. 

"Don't bother," Jim grunted, and Ed smirked condescendingly. 

"As you wish. Is there anything else I can do for you?" 

He heard a deep, resigned sigh. "No, that would be all. Have a good day, Oswald." 

"At last, some kind words from you! Thank you, Jim. And good luck to you too!" 

Jim didn't reply and ended the call. Oswald exhaled with relief; this went much better than he expected. 

"Wow," Ed breathed a chuckle. "My clever Penguin, you never cease to amaze me," he gracefully rose up and slowly glided to Oswald. 

Penguin froze in his chair as he watched Riddler’s lithe body getting close and straddling his lap with fluid motions, trapping him in the embrace of strong lean limbs. Their lips were almost brushing when Ed mumbled, "If a chicken says, 'All chickens are liars', is the chicken telling the truth?" 

Oswald scoffed and pressed their lips together instead of an answer. Edward didn't seem to mind at all and returned the kiss in earnest, caressing his back and shoulders. Oswald was melting in their closeness, resting his hands on his boyfriend's slim hips, when Riddler broke the kiss, leaned back slightly, and asked with sly glee, "So, do you give up?" 

Penguin tsked and shook his head. "That's not even fair, Ed. You're asking me a variation of the liar's paradox; there's no right answer to it," he complained. 

He could see it in Edward's gleaming eyes that he wanted him to give up. Oswald learned to distinguish between the riddles Ed genuinely waited for him to guess and the ones where he just wanted to show off his creativity and tricky mind. 

Riddler’s grin was as complacent as ever when he retorted smugly, "Oh, but there is, darling. Chicken said nothing: they can't talk!" 

His triumphant laughter was interrupted by Oswald's firm grip on his round lean backside. "Oow, someone's in the mood again already I see," he purred and made a thrusting motion with his hips, causing Oswald to bite his lip as he was indeed almost in the mood even after their eventful night and morning. He just couldn't get enough of this perfect lithe body currently squirming lewdly on his lap. 

"Chickens can't talk at all, but this devious bird," was punctuated by a tender kiss on the tip of Oswald's nose, "has an incredible skill of concealing the truth without speaking a single lie. How on earth can you be so frustratingly cunning that even righteous bullheads like Gordon have to resign?" 

Penguin felt the blush spreading over his cheeks at the genuine admiration in Ed's soft voice. 

"Years of practice, my dear Edward," he shrugged in feigned modesty. "Truth is a liar's best tool." 

"Why did you tell him about Martin, though? Don't you worry that he might get the boy involved in the case and attract unnecessary attention?" 

Penguin shrugged. "Jim Gordon is not a difficult person to read. He's driven by a desire to protect the innocent and to do what he thinks is morally right. If those two goals become contradictory, Jim inevitably chooses to defend people, even if it means doing something wrong or reckless," Oswald played with his lover's shirt buttons absentmindedly. "Besides, he has a lot of guilt about the whole Sofia and Martin situation; it'll appeal to his compassion and sympathy. Thus, he won't pursue this case, and he'll keep Martin out of any consulting he might provide for the local police."

Ed shook his head in admiration. "So wise, my Penguin," he praised, and Oswald couldn’t hold back a purr when the soft lips pressed shortly onto his own. 

"Still can't believe they called Gordon to solve my clues," Ed pouted adorably. 

"Well, clearly no worthy opponent for the Riddler here," Oswald agreed. "You could try testing Metropolis police's wits next time; crime level there speaks highly of their skill." 

Riddler’s eyes lit up. "Next time? You mean it?" he wondered like a kid who got promised a visit to a theme park barely after leaving a zoo. 

Oswald stroked his adorable partner's soft dark locks. "I don't see why not. We might organize another little vacation there some time. I was considering proposing a partnership with Mr. Lex Luthor; he seems to be an up-and-coming businessman. LexCorp is already a huge player in Metropolis, but it lacks representation and partners in Gotham to compete with Wayne Enterprises properly. Of course, I won't be representing him myself, merely provide a platform for the future arrangements, become an essential link in his operations there..." Penguin trailed off because he got lost in warm hazel eyes, studying him with fond amusement from behind the lenses. 

"Do go on, Mr. Penguin," Ed murmured, threading his long fingers in Oswald's hair. "I do so love to hear you scheme." 

Oswald pecked his lover's sweet lips. "There's not much to say right now. Alas, all scheming will have to wait until the final decision regarding our standing with the law."

"Do you think we blew it?" Ed asked quietly, casting his gaze down like a cutest guilty puppy. 

"No, I think we're good. It was a courtesy call more than a real threat. As Jim said, Blüdhaven is out of GCPD jurisdiction, and we left no evidence. If it comes to this, we can spin it like somebody tried to set us up using your modus operandi," Riddler frowned at his words. Of course, he would hate to outright renounce his elaborate crimes. He took pride in them, and Penguin hoped he wouldn't have to deny his devious partner his achievements. 

"And besides, there's still an ace up my sleeve that I hold against Gordon," Oswald reassured his lover and was pleased to see the worry in his eyes being replaced by curiosity. He didn't need to be asked to elaborate. 

"I suppose you know that Sofia came to Gotham only because Gordon paid a visit to Don Falcone looking for help against my licensing system?" Riddler nodded frowning. "As you probably recall, her appearance suspiciously coincided with the Pyg killing crooked cops on my payroll." 

"Oh my..." Edward's eyes widened as he saw the full picture. Oswald didn't need to explain further. "But how did you find out? When?" 

"Remember my bookkeeper Penn?" Ed nodded. "He had to bring me something especially worthy if he hoped to keep his head after working on both Don Falcone and Sofia behind my back. I supposed that such a piece of delightful dirt on his holiness Jim Gordon was good enough reason to allow him one last chance to redeem himself," Oswald smirked. 

"Do you have any evidence? Does Gordon know?" Riddler’s eyes burned bright like two sparks lit up at the prospect of a guileful setup. 

"Unfortunately no, there's absolutely zero proof of a connection between Jim and the Pyg. There were never any official deals or money transfers, and all who could attest this are now either dead or, you know, Sofia." Ed snorted. "Nevertheless, Jim doesn't need to know that. He is aware I know of his little misadventure, and that should motivate him enough." 

"How 'friendly' of you," Riddler chuckled and did air-quotes. 

Oswald shrugged. "Try as I might to not admit it, Jim turned out to be a fair-weather friend. I suppose he deserves this treatment." 

"Still, a shame we can't show everyone what a hypocritical fraud he is under that white cape." 

"It's not that bad, really. If Jim was punished for this, he would've been a martyr, a brave fallen angel deserving sympathy and forgiveness. No, redeeming his sins — that would've been too easy," Penguin shook his head and huffed. "The real torture for him is to live his life, knowing he caused the death of so many people and not only wasn't punished but got rewarded instead. He basically reached his title of the Captain by paving the road with heads of his dead fellow officers. It might not seem like too big of a deal for us, but for Jim Gordon, whose whole world is built around the yearning to be a good man, this is a real punishment."

Riddler’s cruel smirk, mirroring his own, was all the confirmation Oswald needed to know that his words were heard and accepted. Ed pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around Penguin and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Oswald happily returned the embrace, breathing in his boyfriend's warmth, safely locked between the back of the chair and Edward's lithe body. They had some more time to cuddle before going out.

Chapter Text

When they left the hotel, their second driver was already patiently waiting. Yesterday's driver was tasked with delivering stolen treasures to Olga. Oswald supposed he'll have to increase the guy's salary for being so trustworthy and not running away with the car full of money. Sure, Penguin knew where the driver's family and friends lived; it probably was a deciding factor in his loyalty. Still, being kind and generous aside from threatening towards employees wouldn't hurt. 

They had a few things planned for today

First of all, a business visit to the company providing diving and salvaging services. All marine companies Oswald worked with before, failed to find any trace of SS Gertrude on the mainland. Edward calculated the exact distance the sub could've taken Nyssa. All shores and docks in the area have been thoroughly searched yet every attempt yielded zero results, which led to the conclusion that perhaps they should look for their treasure underwater.

In this Blüdhaven diving&salvaging company, Oswald had hired divers almost two weeks ago, but they still didn't send a single report despite what the contract guaranteed. Penguin chose to take it as a personal offense and blasted through their doors like he owned the place side by side with severe-looking Riddler. They stormed right into the director's office and locked the door, both wearing grim expressions. The man apparently recognized his visitors, if his panicked trembling and sweating were any indications. He miserably squirmed before their forms looming over him, desperately trying to come up with pathetic excuses only to get silenced by short-tempered Penguin hitting him square in the jaw with the base of his cane. Failure to solve Edward's riddle was another mistake the man had made and will regret for as long as it takes his broken bones to heal. A few more mild but painful injuries did the job. The terrified director kneeled, begging for his life and promising to come to Gotham with reports on the results personally. He made a call in their presence, giving the order to throw all teams into the searching of the possibly sunk submarine. After a few more colorful threats to the man and his family, Penguin and Riddler left with satisfied smug grins which turned into maniacal laughter as soon as car doors closed behind them.

Later they paid a visit to Oswald's tailor. He left Gotham before the bridges blew, but was delighted to have one of his best-paying customers back. Both Oswald and Ed were desperately running out of fresh costumes and wanted something new; they took measurements and talked about what they wanted to get in terms of materials and colors. The elderly tailor knew Elijah Van Dahl personally; Oswald always had a bittersweet time in his company, reminiscing about his deceased father. 

Next, they went to the concert hall to watch the local symphonic orchestra concert. It was Edward's wish to visit this particular place due to its historical importance and architectural intricacies. During the performance, Oswald positively drowned in the breathtaking sounds and atmosphere. Edward's trivia about each composition and its author was very educational, although Oswald doubted he'll remember at least half of what Ed told him. 

They finished the day with a nice dinner at one of the most luxurious restaurants this city could offer. They both were delighted to have so much time devoted only to each other with no distractions. Despite how well they knew each other, they still could talk for hours and never get bored. Perks of being boyfriends with your best friend, Ridler joked about that once, and Oswald couldn't agree more. Edward chose a delicious vintage, and the food was astounding; Oswald even contemplated hiring the chef for his Iceberg Lounge later. Their somewhat secluded booth provided enough privacy when their conversation strayed into the more sensual side, and simple small touches weren't enough. Relatively hidden from everyone else around, they were free to pour their love into deep, slow kisses. 

Before going to bed back in the hotel, Ed changed Oswald's bandage. Lee said to check if he sees the light each time, and go to her as soon as he does. Oswald hoped he would see something more than a dark red haze soon, but for now, his eye was still hopelessly bloodshot. At least the surrounding bruising had subsided considerably, and swelling was gone completely. All in all, the healing process was going well, according to Oswald's personal Dr. Nygma. 

—☂—

Next day's morning papers sported scandalous reports on their front pages about three bank robberies in one night, supposedly perpetrated by the same person. The titles ranged from extremely stupid to ridiculously hilarious, all of them utterly degrading towards the local police much to Riddler’s satisfaction. He particularly liked 'Gotham's Riddler outplayed the BPD?'. The most absurd one was 'BPD: 0, Riddler(?): 1. Who will win?' —  they basically tried to encourage him to do another daring heist. Clearly, the police also failed to keep the classified information from leaking to the press. The articles confirmed once again that the BPD had no progress in their investigation, and all connections to the Riddler were purely hypothetical, based only on his trademark M.O. 

They once again left the hotel only after lunch, right on time when Martin's school classes were over. This last day of their vacation, Oswald and Edward decided to devote to Martin and offered him to choose the entertainment. Adrian and Janice left him under Penguin’s and Riddler’s protection and went to have some time to themselves. They loved Martin with all their hearts, but for more than a year, they could barely afford to be alone, too concerned about the boy's safety. 

As their first stop, Martin chose the vast aquarium with all kinds of sea life presented inside huge tanks. Ed was their self-appointed guide, pouring numerous facts about fish and animals they saw. Martin was devouring new information with heartfelt attention and kept asking more questions, which Riddler was delighted to answer. Oswald desperately tried not to tear up too much at the touching sight of his two most loved people having such a good time.

Edward the dog was surprisingly lively and happier than Oswald had ever seen; stubby tail never stopped wagging with excitement. He even trotted around Martin on short legs instead of lazy waddling, and he managed to walk quite a lot before eventually sitting down and refusing to move on his own. When that happened, Martin picked him up and kissed the top of his head, proceeding to carry the heavily panting bulldog around. Riddler snorted and commented on how painfully familiar that looked. 

They stopped to have a break at the built-in restaurant with a beautiful view of the seal tank; Martin was delighted to observe the aquatic mammals gracefully floating around. They ordered seafood dishes, which was somewhat weird, seeing as they came here to admire the sea life but now were going to consume it. Nevertheless, the cooking was excellent.

Martin remarked that their heist made the front line in the morning papers. Ed giddily told him about the heists, mostly using sign language in case there were some curious ears. Of course, his tale didn't include their little action in the hallway of the last bank. Martin listened with his mouth hanging open in wonder and his big eyes sparkling with awe, asking more questions about Riddler's electric traps and how he was able to time all of this so perfectly. Unsurprisingly, the eleven-year-old boy managed to solve Edward's riddles in a matter of minutes and a few hints, while Blüdhaven police had to call Jim Gordon for help after hours of unsuccessful pondering. 

After dessert, Martin showed them a few tricks he taught dog Edward, specifically how to sit down, stand up, roll around and stand on the back legs. He was working on teaching the bulldog how to feign dead, but out of four attempts, Edward humored the boy only once. Oswald watched the scene in pure shock; he could barely make the dog follow him without the leash, much less perform tricks. And what's more remarkable, all commands were silent but correctly understood by the happily panting dog gruffly barking to demand a reward for his efforts. 

"You taught him all that in less than two days?" Penguin gaped at smugly nodding boy.

"Wow," Ed seemed to be equally dumbfounded. "I thought this dog was too stupid to ask for a walk on its own." 

*Hey,* Martin frowned at him accusingly. *Edward is very smart, playful and active.*

"Active? " Riddler cackled. "Are we talking about the same dog? Well, well, it seems he just had an awfully lazy owner before." 

"Hey!" it was now Oswald's turn to be appalled. "I tried to teach him commands, but it would appear my patience wasn't quite enough," he had to admit. 

"Patience? So you are familiar with the concept after all?" Riddler teased with a sly smirk. 

"Well, you're still alive, aren't you?" he snarked back. 

Martin watched their friendly banter with fond amusement and then started to sign, hesitantly at first. 

*I have some news.* 

Both men instantly turned all attention to the boy. Oswald had a guess what Martin was about to say, and Edward probably knew too. Penguin told him about his little chat with Martin's guardians the other day, and Ed was as excited for the boy as he was. 

*Adrian and Janice offered to officially adopt me,* he signed not giving away any emotion. Probably wanted to gauge their reaction first. What a smart, cunning young man he was growing up to be. 

"Alright. Is it good news or bad? You seem to get along well," Oswald inquired cautiously. 

Martin's face lit up with a bright smile. *It's awesome! I never thought somebody would ever want to adopt me, that I would have actual official parents. And such cool ones!* he gestured excitedly. 

Oswald released a breath of relief. He was starting to worry Martin would be distressed by the proposal. 

"So, you said yes?" Ed asked with a wide smile. 

*Of course! I could barely answer, my hands were shaking so much,* he giggled, eyes shining with happiness. 

*But you don't mind, do you?* he asked Oswald. *Them being your employees.*

"I don't mind as long as they love you, and you love them. This is your decision, Martin. Have you considered it thoroughly?" 

Martin nodded. *Yes. After I agreed on impulse, they told me to think again, consider my rational opinion as well as emotional. The answer was the same even after a few hours of pondering.*

"That's amazing, Martin! I'm so happy for you."

*Thank you! I can't express how grateful I am for all you've done for me. You became my first friend and gave me a family,* Martin signed with tears shimmering in his bright eyes. 

"I'm glad it worked out so well," Oswald was almost tearing up himself. He felt Edward's warm hand covering his and was grateful for the support. 

*So since I'll now have official parents, can you be my uncles?* Martin asked with a wide grin. 

Oswald could only suck in a sharp breath and nod vigorously, afraid to burst into sentimental tears if he started speaking. Martin considered them a family, the closest, dearest people in his life! Thankfully, Ed was more composed with his emotions and gave a proper answer for both of them. 

"Of course, Martin. That'll be an honor and a pleasure. Whatever you need, we're always here for you. I'll be your cool uncle, and Ozzie will be your fussing uncle, more a grandma really-... Ow, hey there," he chuckled at Oswald bumping him with a shoulder. He pressed Oswald's frame even closer instead of bumping back. 

Martin beamed at them, jumped from his seat and wrapped his thin arms around Oswald's and Edward's necks, bringing them all in one snug embrace. The trio wrapped arms around each other, blissfully happy and carefree at least for a short while. 

"Ooh, I have an idea. Wait here, guys," Ed drummed his fingers on the table excitedly and ran off somewhere after they disentangled from the hug. 

"That can't be good," Oswald chuckled and shook his head fondly. 

He noticed that Martin seemed more serious suddenly as he looked at Riddler’s green figure disappearing behind the corner. 

"What's on your mind, Martin?" he encouraged the boy. 

*I see you’re close with Ed again. He’s awesome, I like him so very much, but do you trust him now?*

Oswald was so profoundly touched by Martin's concern. He knew it was not out of any ill feelings towards Ed — Marting clung to him like to an elder brother, it was obviously not faked — but from the boy's sincere caring about Penguin's heart.

"Yes, completely. Ed and I have been through a lot. I didn't think I'll ever be able to trust him again, but here we are, ready to give our lives for each other," Oswald shrugged. 

Martin tilted his head, contemplating. *How can you be so sure? You used to say friends always stab in the back.*

Oswald vividly recalled the lesson he had taught Martin about how to use other's friendship against the enemies. He inwardly chuckled at how eerily foreshadowing Martin's drawing of two hugging friends with knives behind their backs turned out to be. He didn't even think about it until now. 

*Or do you trust him only because you're a couple now?*

Penguin was impressed with the boy's perception. Oswald and Ed didn't hide their relationship during the last three days, but they didn't even kiss once in front of Martin. Usually, kids his age wouldn't pick up on more subtle cues. But then again, Martin was more than a usual kid. 

"No, that's not the reason. Edward and I have managed to find our way back to each other, to forgiveness and truce, become friends again before even considering becoming a couple. We both showed we can trust each other with our lives and be honest about any rising issues. Whatever happens, there shall be no more backstabbing between us."

*Do you love him?*

"Yes, with all my heart. And I know he loves me just as deeply, there's no doubt."

Martin nodded and asked after a brief pause. *How do you know that for sure? How will I know if I ever meet someone?* he furrowed his brows in confusion.  

"I think you'll know for sure when you meet that person. If you both ready to put each other's needs before your own, sacrifice your happiness for each other's sake if needed — this is probably true love."

*And what should I do? Should I trust them?*

"Trust is a different matter entirely; you shouldn't trust most of the people, it might be used against you. You can trust your family, those few people you choose to include in it." Martin gave a nod of understanding; living previously as a boy without family, the concept was probably even more sacred to him. 

"As for what to do..." Oswald sighed. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to give relationship advice; I almost doomed my own," he shook his head. "But I'll tell you what I learned from my mother. She used to say, 'Life only gives you one true love. When you find it, run to it.'  She was the wisest woman I've known, and I believe she was right about that, as always." 

*Did you follow her advice?*

Oswald released a humorless chuckle. "I did, but my impatience and insecurities got in the way when everything went not how I was expecting." 

Martin nodded and seemed to mull it over, but then his eyes widened, and mouth fell open when he glanced in the direction where Ed had gone. Oswald followed his gaze and froze, not believing his eye at first. 

Riddler was approaching them with his confident, flamboyant gait, grinning madly, pure wonder and joy sparkling in his eyes. He was carrying a penguin.  An actual live penguin.  Black and white bird with pink patches on its face and feet, shining curious black eyes, feathers visibly moist, and flippers spread as if it was trying to keep balance in Edward's hold. 

"Ed?!" was all that Oswald managed to croak in shock. 

Edward came closer to their table and carefully sat down, placing the penguin in his lap, supporting it with hands a little so the creature wouldn't waddle off. 

"Do you like him?" Riddler asked giddily. 

Oswald was still gaping like a fish out of water. Martin didn't appear to have this problem; he hopped from his chair and approached them slowly, careful to not startle the animal. He cautiously stretched his hand and was about to pet the penguin when Oswald finally regained his speech. 

"Wait, Martin!" the boy instantly pulled away and looked at him, puzzled. "What if it bites? What were you thinking stealing a penguin, Ed?" he reprimanded furiously. "It's not a pet; it can be dangerous. Not to mention, it might be uncomfortable. Do you want to endanger this poor creature's life?!" he was getting more and more worked up. 

Ed listened to Penguin’s outrage calmly and then addressed Martin. "See? Like I told you. Cool uncle," he gracefully placed a palm on his own chest. "And a grandma," he finished, smirking at Oswald. Martin burst out laughing, covering his mouth with both hands to not agitate Penguin even more. 

"Edward,  be serious for once!" Oswald screeched. The dog Edward sitting next to the table whined and looked up at him with guilty confusion, not knowing what he did wrong. "Not you, Edward, you're a good boy," Penguin addressed the dog in a soft tone. "You,  however, are not," he jumped up and limped to still infuriatingly grinning Riddler. 

The penguin in his lap spread its flippers wide and honked at Oswald, apparently perceiving his sudden movements as a threat. Oswald took a step back and uttered in a hushed voice, not wishing to attract more attention or startle more animals: "Ed, release the bird this instant! I'm being dead serious right now." 

Riddler’s maddening grin transformed into a placating kind smile as he probably realized this was no time for jokes. "Ozzie, I need you to calm down. Do you trust me?" 

Warmth and calmness in Edward's dark eyes worked soothingly on Penguin’s flared nerves. Indeed, why did he get so worried? His boyfriend is a genius; he wouldn't put Martin or the bird in danger. Surely Edward knows what he's doing. Oswald released a deep sigh and nodded, admitting his defeat. "Yes, Ed, I do. Now please tell me why in the world did you kidnap this unfortunate creature?" he asked much more peacefully. 

Edward's wide grin returned. "Because it's fun, obviously!" Oswald could only roll his eyes and shake his head, resigned. "And he's far from unfortunate, in fact. This handsome bird happens to be only the second penguin to sit in Riddler’s lap, verrry lucky," Ed purred, and Penguin couldn’t help but chuckle. How his ridiculous boyfriend can be so infuriating and charming at the same time, he will never know. 

Martin signed something, Oswald couldn’t see from his angle. 

"Yes, Martin, of course, don't be shy. Just don't do any sudden movements and be ready to pull your hand away any second, just in case." 

Oh, dear Lord.  Oswald tensed as his boy slowly lifted and stretched one hand towards the penguin. The bird didn't show any signs of offense, its pearly black eyes curiously studied slowly approaching boy's fingers. Soon Martin reached the penguin's head and petted him gently. The creature didn't move at first but then slightly nuzzled its black and white beak into the touch. Oswald released the breath he was holding during the act. 

"Meet a Humboldt penguin," Ed announced proudly. Martin seemed to be entirely lost in studying the bird, wide smile not fading from his face as he gently stroked feathers on the penguin's head and neck. 

"Oswald, you can come closer, too, slowly. Don't be scared," Riddler had the audacity to tease. 

Oswald huffed. "I'm not scared of a bird, Ed. I'm worried about what it can do to Martin's fingers or your face," he started to approach cautiously, not tearing his gaze from the bird to see its reactions. The penguin didn't seem to mind another human closing in while the boy was now slowly stroking its back, grinning in wonder. 

"We'll be fine, I promise. This adorable bird had been fed just before I lured him with reflected light and snatched him. He's used to humans; these penguins are bred here, they're not too wild." 

*Is it a boy?* Oswald was now close enough to glance at what Martin signed with one unoccupied hand. 

"There's no way to say for certain since penguins are not sexually dimorphic. Boys and girls look basically the same," he explained after Martin's quizzical glance. "But I'm assuming it's a male because he was slightly bigger than another penguin that was nearby, which is a usual feature to determine their sex without closer inspection." 

Oswald admired the bird patiently enduring the touches of human hands. The penguin was undeniably adorable: crisp white belly with rare black spots, the intricate coloring of the neck and face, a strong beak with tiny feathers around it on the bare pink skin. Webbed black feet with pink patterns and pointy black nails found a delicate balance on Edward's slim thighs with the help of slightly spread thin wings. At the base of one of the flippers, there was a grey tag with a number.

"Fascinating, isn't he?" Ed probably noticed the admiration in Oswald's gaze. He could only nod in response. "You can touch him, Oswald," Ed offered. "I doubt he's gonna allow it for too long. Usually, humans mean feeding, and we don't have any fish for this little fella." 

Oswald was indeed fascinated by his namesake. He slowly lifted his hand and caressed the bird's chest with the back of his fingers. When penguin didn't show any signs of aggression, Oswald gently stroked its chest and white belly. The creature was very soft and warm to the touch, so smooth, almost like a short-haired cat but not that fluffy. Feathers weren't wet as it seemed before but rather slightly oily. From numerous penguin facts Ed told him, Oswald knew that it made the plumage waterproof. The bird tilted his head, studying the new limb touching his belly, and then suddenly pecked at Oswald's shining cufflink. Thankfully the trinket endured the attack of a sturdy beak. Martin and Ed giggled, probably at Oswald’s stunned expression and his quickly retreating hand. 

The dog Edward whined and pawed at Martin's shoe with his blunt claws. Much like his human namesake, the bulldog craved to be the center of attention and loathed being replaced in the spotlight. Martin smiled fondly and picked the dog up, wisely taking a few steps back from Ed with the bird. 

"Upsy-daisy, guys. I guess we'd better return Mr. Penguin Junior to his home," Edward said. Oswald followed his gaze and noticed three aquarium guards slowly making their way through the restaurant, clearly in their direction. "Perhaps you would like to carry him, Martin?" 

The boy shook his head and signed with one hand, *I don't want Edward to feel neglected.*

Oswald huffed a chuckle. Martin seemed to genuinely adore the bulldog if he refused such a unique opportunity for his sake. And the boy didn't even appear to be upset about it in the slightest, tenderly hugging his canine friend close to his chest. 

"What about you, Ozzie? Wanna cuddle with your little counterpart?"

"No, thank you. I'd prefer not to have my last eye pecked out." 

"Oh come on, you're the Penguin, not a chicken," Riddler winked playfully. 

Before Oswald could retort back, he found himself with arms full of the warm feathery animal. He froze in place. It was as terrifying as the first time Oswald held baby Barbara Lee when he had to assist her mother unexpectedly. He wasn't sure if he was holding this small creature correctly. What if he hurts the bird?

But the penguin appeared to be utterly indifferent to the human's worries. He only fidgetted a little to find the most comfortable position and sat still, gazing at Oswald with curious eyes. They turned out to be brown with small black pupils, not completely black, as he previously thought. The bird didn't seem to have any objection to being carried around, and Oswald breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Let's go, shall we?" Edward gently nudged him with a hand between his shoulder blades. Martin beamed at them and led the way toward the penguins' enclosure, still carrying the dog. 

Oswald moved slowly, not tearing his gaze from the precious creature in his arms. The penguin was lighter than he looked, probably less than ten pounds. The bird held itself proudly, acting as humans existed only to feed and carry him around, and the haughty penguin was the one in charge here. Oswald huffed a chuckle at the animal's nonchalance and grandeur despite having been lured away and kidnapped from his mates. The bird sat in his arms with beak held high, and for a second, Oswald truly felt like he was only a servant to the real penguin boss here. Such a small creature yet magnificent nonetheless. 

"So, do you like him?" Ed repeated his question, and Oswald didn't even need to look at the man to know he was wearing his smugly pleased smirk. 

"Eddie, I wanna penguin," Oswald confessed unexpectedly even for himself. 

Martin turned to stare at him incredulously, and Ed outright laughed. 

"What? Can't we take him home? He seems docile enough," Oswald reasoned. 

"We can't, Oswald, unless you want this little feathered friend to be lonely and miserable. Penguins are social creatures." 

"Then let's take a whole family of penguins. Oh, I know!" he even stopped in his tracks as an idea struck him. "We can make a living area for them at my club. With snow a-and water and fish. Imagine the Iceberg Lounge with actual live penguins waddling around!" 

Martin seemed to appreciate the idea as he gazed at him with dreamy eyes full of childish wonder, showing his support with a thumb up and excited nodding. 

"Hmm," Ed actually pondered the possibility. "I guess it could be arranged, in theory. Not right now: the club's current layout won't be applicable for a proper imitation of penguins' natural habitat. But some time later we might renovate it, provide a necessary territory for the pool and nests and…" he trailed off. Oswald realized that he had been staring at his boyfriend with awestruck expression and mouth hanging open. 

He could vividly imagine everything Ed was describing. Oswald always was fond of birds. The small aviary on the roof of a neighboring building had been his second-best sanctuary from the sufferings of a harshly bullied kid. First and main safe place being his mother's loving embrace, of course. But when she wasn't at home, only birds kept company to little chubby Oswald after another day of pain and humiliation at school. It was one of his dreams as a boy to have his own aviary. To imagine that he can someday have it as Edward theorized was simply breathtaking. 

"But for now, let's store it away for the future 'Iceberg Lounge 3.0'. We really should get away from those guards," Ed glanced at rapidly approaching bulky figures. 

The penguin in Oswald's arms poked his chin slightly as if nudging him to keep moving. He obliged and noticed Martin signing to Ed. *How did you sneak with him before?*

"That's easy. I didn't," Riddler smirked and stretched his long arms, shrugging theatrically. Martin's quizzical look prompted him to elaborate, although Oswald had no doubt his cocky boyfriend wouldn't miss a chance to brag anyway. "You don't have to sneak if you act naturally, be confident. People won't even think to question you if you appear to know what you're doing. That's how I carried a dead body inside two huge suitcases through the GCPD to dissolve it in acid and wasn't stopped by a single one of more than a dozen cops who saw me."

Riddler puffed his chest proudly under Martin's astonished look. Oswald only huffed a chuckle. A normal uncle would've probably tried to keep such information from the child's ears, but none of them were normal. And this child had witnessed people eating people pies; disposing of a body could be basically a bedtime story for him. And might even prove useful in the future, who knows what roads Martin will choose in his life. 

They approached the penguins' enclosure. The bird in Oswald's arms was still sitting unperturbed, allowing to be carried a little longer. Martin let Edward sit on the floor and gently stroked the bird's feathers on the puffed white chest to say goodbye. 

"Oz," Ed pointedly hinted it was time to let the bird go if they didn't want to cause a scene with approaching guards. 

Oswald carefully placed the penguin behind the waist-high steel fence. The creature didn't seem to care about his little adventure and just leisurely waddled towards his fellow penguins like nothing unusual happened. 

"Excuse me, mister," Oswald heard a gruff voice behind them. 

He turned around with his most threatening scowl to glare at the aquarium guards. He narrowed his eye and stared them up and down, demonstrating how pathetic and unworthy Penguin found them even to address him. He looked down on them, towering over three large frames despite his shorter and slighter stature, using his unrelenting presence to discourage them from messing with his vacation.

"Can I help you?" he spat harshly, the deadly sharp edge of his tone implied that he didn't appreciate being pestered by simpletons in the slightest. 

The guards looked disconcerted and confused when they were met with such a severe attitude from the dangerous bird-kidnapper. The one who addressed Oswald swallowed nervously and shook his head, taking a step back. 

"Uhm... No, sir, sorry to have bothered you. Have a good day, sir," the guard bowed his head a little and hastily walked away with his colleagues. 

"You almost had me threatened for a second there," Ed whistled, and Martin nodded empathically, gazing at Oswald with awe. 

"Nobody messes with the Penguin and his family," Oswald stated proudly. He felt Edward pressing himself a little closer and saw Martin beaming at them with unabashed adoration. "Now, let's watch these magnificent birds some more and get going, shall we?" 

After the aquarium, Martin decided to take them to a shooting range. Oswald had to admit, it was quite an unusual choice of entertainment for an eleven-year-old boy, but neither of them objected. He was actually secretly glad to have an extra opportunity to practice his aim, which got noticeably worse due to the injury. Aiming with only his left eye was the second skill Penguin set himself to master, after learning to move unperturbed by the impaired depth perception. And practice makes perfect. Besides, he could teach Martin some tricks he learned from experience. 

His vast knowledge came in handy when it turned out that Martin already had basic skills of wielding a firearm. Ed and Oswald were equally stunned to see their boy taking a few decent shots with different low-recoil guns. Martin looked adorably smug when he bragged that Janice took him to the shooting range a few times and even taught him how to use a bow. She claimed it was necessary to know how to defeat your enemy using any weapon available if subtlety and cunning fail him. Oswald couldn’t agree more. 

Riddler taught Martin how to throw knives accurately. Sure enough, he also didn't miss the chance to boast how amazing he was when he threw a whole meat cleaver across the room right in one of Bane's guy's faces. Oswald listened to the tale for the second time with equal pleasure as the first. Riddler had this ostentatious giddiness about him; it was infectious, impossible to stop admiring this haughtily beautiful man. 

To wrap up the day, they decided to visit Nelson's home since they all — including Martin now — insisted so much. And admittedly, it's privacy was much more preferable to the wary sideways glances they've been getting all day. The police didn't seem to look for them intentionally but would surely take them in for interrogation if given the opportunity. Oswald did not find that ending to their vacation appealing and so he found himself standing hand-in-hand with Ed at the doorstep of a two-story house, Martin proudly inviting them inside. The house was curiously inconspicuous and outstanding at the same time. It managed to be just humble enough not to scream that mafia-connected people live here. The interior was modernly stylish, clean, and neat. 

Adrian and Janice met them with bright smiles and ushered everybody to the spacious dining room. Ms. Nelson cooked an excellent three-course dinner: cooking was a passion of hers, and it was evident she was a professional not only in silently killing people. Adrian joked that it was the main reason he fell in love with that woman, aside from being a kickass assassin that was always challenging him to step up his own game. Mr. Nelson demonstrated them a skill of his own by making perfect cocktails for everyone, non-alcoholic for Martin, and a 'put anything you want in there but make it green'  for Edward, of course. 

Oswald and Janice both lost the line of conversation when three others started talking about video games, although they enjoyed watching them play in the living room later and cheering. Martin was glowing with happiness at having two capable opponents to challenge on a virtual battlefield. Oswald found it achingly endearing when Ed intentionally but subtly lost to Martin, despite his own competitive nature. Well, he did beat Adrian later; he did not go easy on the man. They were playing some sort of fighting video game; it was bloody and cruel, but Martin didn't seem to be either disturbed or impressed by the creative ways the characters were crushing each other's bones, maiming and mutilating the opponents in various gory finishing moves. Instead, the boy appeared to mostly enjoy the spirit of a contest, being proud of his wins and growing more competitive with each occasional loss. 

The doorbell suddenly rang, and the next second, both Adrian and Janice visibly changed, tensed in preparation for the fight, switched into their assassins personas. They both moved towards the door, hands inches apart from weapons hidden in their clothes. Even their gaits changed, steps light and silent, akin to a pair of prowling big cats in the jungle. Oswald expected Martin to be worried at least a bit, but the boy just shrugged and signed that he knows what to do in case it's not just neighbors. He has a few escape routes he can walk blindfolded, plus there are three guns hidden under the cushions of the couch, not mentioning all other weapons spread around the house in inconspicuous places. Soon they heard the door open and Adrian's cheerful voice greeting whoever came to them. Martin wasn't bothered by anything and kept on beating Ed's character in their virtual fighting. Janice returned and said it's Adrian's bowling buddies, came to invite him to their next games. Oswald was once again relieved to see that he was right to entrust Martin's safety to a couple of experienced assassins; they indeed had everything under control. 

Later Martin dragged Ed upstairs into his room to show more video games and ask him about school science projects they previously discussed in letters — as Oswald suspected, separate from his own, those sneaky devils. Edward the dog followed them, comically climbing the steps on his short legs. Oswald was happy to see his little canine friend so uncharacteristically energetic. During the whole day, he acted more attached to Martin than to Oswald, demanding his attention and asking him for treats, which the boy dutifully provided. The bulldog was noticeably more clingy, not leaving Martin's side for more than a minute. That gave Penguin an unexpected idea that appeared more right the more he thought about it. 

"Martin, I was wondering," Oswald started when the boy finally returned, holding Ed's hand in one of his and Edward's whole canine form in the other. Riddler wore a bright smile and was shining with cheerfulness. Martin sat on the armchair and turned his full attention to Oswald, after placing the bulldog in a small dog bed nearby. 

"You seem to be getting along well with Edward. I mean the dog," he clarified. 

Martin eagerly nodded, smiling at the bulldog and leaning to pet him a little. Edward, clearly exhausted, still found the strength to lift his head and lick the boy's palm. 

"He also seems to be much more active and lively with all your care and attentiveness." Martin gave a vague shrug, indicating he didn't consider it before. 

Oswald took a deep breath before asking, "What would you think if I offered you to take care of him from now on?" 

All turned their surprised eyes on him. Everyone here knew how dearly Oswald loved his Edward. Not as much as the human one but still. 

*You mean it? Why?* Martin signed with slightly trembling fingers. His expressive face showed pleasant astonishment and eager anticipation but also a desire to understand and get the whole truth as if he expected there to be some catch. Definitely a good habit, always dig to the deepest layers of people's motivation. Penguin was proud of his smart boy. 

"Yes, I've thought this through. Only in just these three days, you've shown how good of a caretaker you are, better than I ever was, I'm sorry to admit. You try to make Edward better, push his limits, whereas I just treated him like a comfortable creature to pour my heart into, an outlet for my loneliness," he gratefully accepted Ed's warm supporting hand giving a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "But Edward deserves better. I love him deeply, and I want what's best for him."

After a short pause, he added. "But it's only an offer. It goes without saying that it's up to you three to decide whether you want to accept it. I'll love and care for Edward either way. Please don't even think I want to get rid of him; this was not an easy decision to make at all," Oswald gently picked up the bulldog and placed him on his lap, stroking the short plush fur. 

He had a hard time coming to terms with saying goodbye to his little four-legged friend. But he had to admit he was neglecting Edward lately, giving most of his affection to the human Ed and his business. He'll surely take tips from Martin on how to be a better friend and teacher to the dog if his offer is declined. 

Martin gaped at him like he couldn't believe his ears. *Of course, I want that. I've been dreaming of a dog for ever, and Edward is perfect, he's the best! Please can we keep him?* he addressed his parents. 

"Sure, Edward's cool. It's kinda weird that he's a she, but I’m not judging. I like him, always wanted a dog too," Adrian nodded readily. 

"He's adorable. I don't mind at all as long as you promise to take good care of him like you've shown you can do these past three days," Janice agreed, smiling fondly at vigorously nodding Martin. 

Martin hopped to Oswald and wrapped his hands tightly around him, careful to not disturb the dog resting in his lap. He even placed a light kiss on his cheek as he was drawing back, which made Oswald smile stretch even wider, and his heart pang from the overflow of tender feelings. 

*How can I ever thank you for everything you've given me?* his boy signed with tears of happiness in his big brown eyes. 

"Just keep being such a good friend for Edward. I only want what's best for both of you," Oswald smiled, subtly wiping a tear and masking it behind fixing his hair and bandage. 

They spent the rest of the evening chatting, laughing, and drinking cocktails. They even snapped a few pictures in different poses with each other. The very first photo of happily beaming Martin with his soon-to-be legal parents hugging him tightly. The first time Oswald and Ed got captured on camera in a cozy embrace like a happy couple they are. Hopefully, someday, they can frame it and display openly along with their other shared memories. And Oswald will forever treasure the group photo of him, Ed, Martin, and Edward all cuddled together. He'll cherish it along with his other most precious possessions: his ragged origami penguin, his mother's jewelry box, and his father's vintage tailoring kit and the love letter to Gertrude that Elijah never sent since he didn't know her whereabouts. 

It was very nice to just relax in this peaceful domesticity, forget all the troubles and challenges for a short while, spend time with friends and family without a care in the world. However, like all good things, it was bound to end. The night came and with it Martin's bedtime, which already was postponed greatly in favor of their dear guests. Oswald couldn’t hold a few tears from escaping when he was saying goodbye to his lovely bulldog Edward, who licked his face and whined a little before waddling to his new young human best friend for comfort. Even more tears spilled when Martin privately confessed that he thinks of him as even more than an uncle, that Oswald is like a godfather for him. Ed, Oswald, and Martin shared another tight hug before the boy went to bed, followed by his dog trotting behind and wagging his stubby tail. 

Adrian drove them farther away from the house to avoid drawing attention to their black limo which would take them back to Gotham. He warmly bid goodbye to the couple, eagerly inviting them to come over as often as they like. He also asked Oswald to stop paying him and Janice for being Martin's bodyguards, since it would've been weird for parents to get paid for caring about their son. Indeed it probably was, now that Oswald thought about it. Not like that money made too much of a difference to anyone: the assassins had more than enough savings, not to mention the account Oswald made on Martin's name. Whatever might happen, Penguin's godson will never struggle with money. It was probably the best way he spent them so far.

—☂—

"Do you regret it?" Ed softly asked him while they were leaving Blüdhaven, on the backseat next to each other, their hands intertwined between them. "That we don't have this kind of life?" 

Oswald hummed thoughtfully. He did have a wonderful time during the vacation, but it was just that, a vacation. He was confident that if they tried to lead a normal life now, they would've gone insane sooner or later. It was good in moderation. 

"No, I don't. We’re not suited for this lifestyle, not right now, at least. We are what we are, right? Ambitious criminals craving power and glory, eager to bathe in the blood of our adversaries." Riddler's approving smirk confirmed the sentiment. "We have no place in this peaceful environment and would just drag our innocent loved ones to their doom if we tried to fit both lifestyles in one... At least we have each other in all of this," he sighed and smiled a bit melancholically at his handsome partner. 

"Indeed, my love. I once had a delusion that I must lead a 'normal'  life with a wallflower wife, kids, and a white picket fence in the suburbs," he frowned, expression darkening for a passing moment. "But now I know it was never even a choice for me. As you said, we are what we are. I'm the Riddler, and I'm happy I have my precious Penguin to walk this path in darkness together."

Ed gently lifted their entwined hands and placed them in his lap, inadvertently pulling Oswald closer. He was delighted to comply, nestling next Riddler’s frame. 

"I'll miss Edward, though. But I know he'll be happier and safer with his new friends," he sighed. 

"Hey, don't be greedy, you have one Edward already, let Martin have another," Ed playfully bumped him with the shoulder a little. "A boy his age becomes eighty-five percent happier with a loyal dog around."

Oswald chuckled. "Another one of your 'cool uncle' wisdoms?" 

"What can I say? I'm a natural in this role," Ed huffed smugly. 

"Fine, I'm not going to argue that," Oswald agreed. "You're the best uncle I could've wished for Martin," he stroked Ed's hand with his thumb, savoring the smooth rises and falls of his perfectly sculpted knuckles.

"What? Penguin gave up his fight to be the top one so easily?" Ed teased. 

Oswald huffed. "I just got removed from the competition." Ed hummed in question. "When we were saying goodbye, Martin called me his godfather. Can you imagine that?" Oswald's heart melted all over again at the memory of Martin's sincerely loving eyes as he slowly signed the word. 

"I can, actually. Guess who hinted him towards that concept?" Riddler asked cockily. 

Oswald gasped in disbelief. He was deeply touched by the sentiment and pulled his caring boyfriend in a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around Riddler’s narrow waist. 

"Thank you, Eddie," he murmured into the green chest. He almost purred at warm lips pressing a kiss on top of his head and steady hands holding him close. 

"Well, I didn't want to crush you too badly in claiming the place of Martin's most awesome uncle," he chuckled. 

"I wouldn't stand a chance," Oswald agreed. "So, what else did my two boys secretly plotted?" he asked playfully, not actually expecting to get a proper answer. 

"Hmm. I can't share everything, of course. But I can tell you that I've never thought I could be truly intimidated by an eleven-year-old boy's threats. Alas, Martin is full of surprises, as always," Ed chuckled. 

"I'm not sure I follow," Oswald furrowed his brows and sat up to look Ed in the eyes; he must be joking. But no, the man was apparently telling the truth. 

"Good thing I have no intention of breaking your heart ever again, or I would've been in serious trouble in a few years," Ed continued with a kind, honest smile without even a hint of mocking. He was indeed taking it seriously, which was surprising to Oswald. "Martin cares for you, Oswald, deeply. He sort of gave me his blessing to date you after I promised that I really, really, really love you," he shook his head with fondness. "I didn't even realize how much I needed that until tonight." 

Oswald felt an overwhelming warmth spreading in his chest. To think that young Martin cared and wanted to protect Oswald so much that he even threatened Edward — who he clearly adored and looked up to — was unbelievably endearing. 

Riddler chuckled at his undoubtedly touched flabbergasted expression, and gave a playful ruffle to Penguin's hair, effectively dismantling his haircut. Ed seemed to relish doing that and later watch Oswald meticulously put his strands back in place. Riddler then ran his hand up and down Oswald's back, and it made him want even more contact. 

"Well then, you'd better treat me nicely, Edward," Oswald murmured coquettishly, slowly moving to straddle Ed's lap. His actions caused the intended effect as Riddler’s eyes sparked with desire and hands hungrily dug into Oswald's backside. Penguin gasped softly and claimed his lover's sweet lips, licking deeply in that delicious mouth. 

A few seconds later, Ed giggled into the kiss, and Oswald drew back to look at him perplexedly. He ached an eyebrow, demanding an explanation for this improper behavior.

"I just remembered. Do you realize that you literally called me a bad boy today, Oswald?" Ed asked between his giggles, blushing adorably. 

"I did, didn't I?" Oswald snorted, recalling his unfiltered heated words at the aquarium. "Well, you were rather naughty today," he murmured, brushing his lips against Edward's, pressing their heated bodies flush. He savored the sweetest mewl escaping his gorgeous lover when he tugged his lower lip with threateningly sharp teeth before letting it go. 

"Are you thinking of correcting my behavior now, Mr. Penguin?" Ed breathed, snaking his warm hands under Oswald's shirt, exploring his back with long spidery fingers. 

Penguin couldn't hold a guttural purr. "That's right, Eddie dearest. I'll make a good boy out of you yet," he whispered, grasping Edward's hair, pulling his head back and looking deep into lust-glazed dark eyes. 

He removed Riddler’s glasses and made sure the partition was lifted, securing their privacy. Together with sensual jazz playing in the background, it'll save their driver from seeing or hearing something he shouldn't. They had a long road back home.

Chapter Text

Edward understands now. He sees what makes him and Oswald so perfect for each other, why they get along as a couple so well. Besides being the smartest criminals in Gotham, quietly scheming and planning their return to power. And besides the fact that Oswald is the only person who doesn't consider Ed's natural clinginess and dorkiness annoying. Even besides the notion that he secretly seems to enjoy Edward's riddles. 

The main reason for their compatibility is that they remain best friends first and foremost. No matter what else they are in this relationship, their friendship remains intact, which allows them to chat for hours, joke around or just share companionable silence and never get tired of each other's presence. They never feel obligated to necessarily do something as a couple because that's not everything they are. Funny enough, despite them being boyfriends and addressing each other with different terms of endearment, it's still perfectly fine for them to call each other friends. Even when they are alone and don't have to hide their affection, it never feels uncomfortable or inappropriate in the slightest. Nothing is ever awkward between them, actually. Being with Oswald in any sense feels entirely natural and right. 

That's not to say they don't have disagreements from time to time. They argue and bicker like an old married couple, at least according to Barbara and Selina, who happened to witness one or two of their squabbles. Oswald's temper tantrums and egoistic habits can be insufferable sometimes, and he also gets occasionally irritated with Ed's manic quirks. But their disputes never last. As soon as fire of anger dies down, they're back in each other's embrace, whispering apologies and proclaiming undying love to each other. Neither of them has even a shade of doubt in the truth of those words. 

Almost three months had passed since the last confrontation with Bane, which makes it more than a year after Ed and Oswald began rebuilding their friendship. But despite everything they know about each other, they still can talk for hours straight about all kinds of things, even without intimacy or physical contact as they sit in Penguin’s personal booth on the second floor of recently opened Iceberg Lounge, overlooking the wealthy guests and socialites. Oswald's establishment had a rousing success each night since its opening about two weeks ago, which thankfully happened without any unfortunate disaster that seemed to haunt this city's major events lately.

Most importantly, they trust each other fully and unconditionally. Being a couple and best friends, they don't bother to have secrets or lies.

At least that's what Edward believed until a few days ago when he accidentally overheard Oswald telling Olga in a hushed voice: 'He must never know.' It was obvious he was talking about Ed, why else would he want to keep it quiet. Asking Olga would be useless: despite tolerating Ed nowadays, she's loyal only to Oswald. And the man himself was dead set on keeping some secrets from him. 

Ed was getting more and more restless after that. Nothing was pointing to the fact that his boyfriend was hiding something, but Oswald was always a good liar. Edward didn't know what to think and what to expect. One thing he was certain about: Oswald has no intention of hurting him with that secret. Whatever it is, he probably has a good reason to hide. Perhaps Penguin considers it a white lie. But it's a lie nonetheless, and Ed couldn't help but feel hurt by it. They were supposed to be completely honest and open with each other! 

Just sneak into his office at night and search for some clues. Think logically, Olga must've found something that caused him to demand her silence,  Riddler’s voice whispered to him. He kept nagging about it more and more lately. They both loathed to leave a puzzle unsolved; Riddler especially couldn't stand not knowing something concerning him. All other reasons aside, it was severely hurting his pride and degrading his ego. 

No, it would be dishonorable. We shouldn't turn his lies into even more lies. That's how relationships are destroyed. We  can't mess this up. 

Then do something. Anything. Riddler released a frustrated groan. This whole situation was like an itch he couldn't scratch.  Let's just ask him directly then; it can't get any worse. What do we have to lose? 

Oswald. We might lose him if this secret turns out to be a deal-breaker.  

We won't lose him, don't be an idiot. He loves us, you know he does, and this is what matters the most. We simply need to persuade him to open up. 

But how can I ask him? If it weren't important, Oswald wouldn't have to hide it in the first place. 

With your words, Eddie. Or did you want to perform a dance and sing a song to him? Seems to work in cartoons... 

I don't need your snide jokes right now.  

I don't care what you need.  I  need to know what Oswald is hiding. 

Who was he kidding, they both needed it. Ed sighed and went to find his secretive boyfriend. He wouldn't bear another sleepless night of driving himself mad. 

He spotted Oswald in the library, lounging on the loveseat with a book on war strategies. Ed doubted his smart bird really needed it; his machiavellian mind can conjure up schemes that would make the history's most famous generals green with jealously. 

Oswald looked up at him and smiled warmly, shifting to the side to let Ed have a seat beside him. He sat down, nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt, not sure how to approach the subject. 

"Is something bothering you, dear? You seem tense," Oswald, perceptive as ever, noticed his distress and came to Ed's rescue. 

"If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?" Edward blurted out. 

"I know that one, it's a secret," Oswald smiled at him, not yet expecting what Ed was about to ask. 

He took a deep breath. 

"Do you keep secrets from me?" words left his mouth in one breath as soon as he stopped holding them back. 

Oswald looked at him incredulously and put his book on the nearby coffee table, giving Ed his full attention. 

"Where did that come from?" he wondered carefully, furrowing his brows. Oswald avoided the straight answer; Ed knows his boyfriend would hate to lie to him openly. 

He hesitated. How can he ask this without hurting Oswald? How does one enquire about a suspicion so it wouldn't look like mistrust? 

"Let's play a game. I tell you a secret, and you tell me one in return," Ed rattled, managing a small nervous smile. 

Oswald winced. "I'm not a fan of that particular 'game', Edward, I'm sure you understand." 

Oh right, Oswald told him how he played it with Don Maroni and how that ended in Penguin being almost crushed in a car. With all the distress Ed experienced lately because of Oswald's secret, he forgot to consider that he didn't prepare any tactic. 

With a short sigh, Oswald took one of Edward's hands in his. The warm contact was welcome; it eased his nerves a bit. 

"What is this all about, Eddie? You know you can just tell me anything that's on your mind, right?" 

Ed looked at his boyfriend's loving face studying him with concern. He was slightly trembling and grabbed onto Oswald's hand more firmly, bracing himself for what he was about to tell. Hopefully, Oswald won't be too mad at him for creeping around and eavesdropping on others' conversations. 

"I unintentionally overheard you telling Olga 'he must never know'. Now, I don't want you to think that I suspect you of something. I'm not. But I have to ask again. Do you keep secrets from me?"

Oswald took it better than he expected. He didn't lash out and only pursed his lips a little before answering quietly. 

"Everyone has secrets, Ed; it's not a bad thing." 

"But does this one directly relate to me?" 

Oswald sighed again, deeply this time. "It might." 

Meaning 'yes'. 

"Oswald, I think it'd be better if we didn't have any secrets from each other. Specifically concerning us." 

"Do you think I enjoy lying to you?!" Penguin was starting to get irritated, not a good sign. "Don't you think I have a pretty good reason to keep something hidden?" 

"Yes, of course, you do. I trust you, Ozzie," he bit his lip before speaking of their past. "But secrets are what almost destroyed us last time." 

"Eddie, it's nothing like that, I promise you!" Oswald looked very agitated; his pulse quickened, Ed felt it with his fingers still resting on his boyfriend's wrist. 

"I believe you, Oswald. I know you think you're protecting me. But I ask you to trust me as well and allow me to handle whatever truth you have. You know I don't leave puzzles unsolved. I'll find out eventually, but I'd prefer not to have to do it behind your back."

Ed could see it in Oswald's expression that he has won already. Oswald knew Ed was right. He hated to push his precious boyfriend so much, but it's better this way. 

"Ed, please, I implore you to let this go. You don't need to know that; it's all in the past, it won't change anything. I just don't want you to get hurt."

For a moment, Ed was almost ready to give in to his boyfriend's pleas. Whatever Oswald knew seemed to sadden him greatly; of course, he wanted to protect Ed from unnecessary pain, he loves him enough to bear the hard truth alone. 

You know you won't rest until you find out everything. Stop tormenting Ozzie; it'll be better for everyone. Like tearing off a bandaid, swiftly and efficiently. 

"Oswald, thank you for being honest and trying to protect me," Oswald smiled, relieved, probably thinking that Ed decided to let the matter drop. He hated to disappoint his sweet bird, but Riddler’s right, it'll be better in the long run. "However, I must insist. Please tell me everything." 

Oswald's smile faded, he released a deep sigh and solemnly nodded. 

"As you wish, Ed. Wait here," he rose and went to his office, returning shortly after with a manila folder in his hands. 

He sat back down next to Ed and passed him the folder. "Read it, if you're sure. Most of the information is here. Professor Strange gave this to me after I came to get you and Lee back. I decided to keep it; you never know when such unique data can come in handy. I never intended for you to find out, and I'm sorry for not being careful enough." 

Ed was greatly unsettled by Oswald's words and didn't even know what to say, so he only nodded and turned his attention to the documents in his lap. 

The folder was inconspicuous, dark blue with no markings. Ed opened it. He gasped and felt his heart drop. The first page greeted him with Kristen Kringle's photo pinned to the Indian Hill branded paper. She looked just like he remembered: red hair gathered in a ponytail, pink lipstick, glasses, flower-patterned blouse collar sticking from under her fleece dress.

Under her picture caption: 'Subject 264B. Subject name: Isabella Flint' and a big red stamp 'TERMINATED'. 

Edward's hands trembled, he felt dizzy and struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat. Oswald tenderly wrapped his arms around Ed's waist and rested his head on his shoulder, occasionally glancing at the papers in Edward's lap. His presence helped Ed clear some of the nauseating haze in his mind and keep reading. 

He didn't bother registering specific data, formulas, and findings. His eyes frantically ran through the pages and caught separate phrases and photographs that were making him want to throw up as the full picture was coming together.

'DNA origin: Kringle, Kristen. Deceased'.  

'Cloning attempt 001 - failed'. With a detailed description of what went wrong and what needed to be changed after each iteration. 

'Cloning attempt 027 - success'. A photo of the big glass tube with a bald naked woman body floating inside, face covered by her hands from this angle. 

'Required personality: sweet, romantic, shy, determined, loves riddles, loves books, killer fetish'. 

Pictures of Isabella in a room resembling a mix between a hospital room and a library. She's wearing a grey uniform and has short blonde hair. Images display her life — training? — in the facility. On some photos, she's reading a book, or talking to a person wearing a lab coat, or sleeping in the bed in the corner. On other ones, she has longer hair and practices in a shooting range with a gun or training in close combat with masked men or other people Ed doesn't recognize, all wearing grey uniforms similar to Isabella's. She seems calm and content, probably thinks that everything is how it should be. 

Edward's hand twitched and crumpled the picture of dreamily smiling Isabella looking at photos of tall, dark-haired men with glasses and sharp cheekbones. 

Oswald tightened his embrace on Ed's middle and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, reminding him that he's not alone. Edward leaned into his boyfriend's hug, took a shuddering breath, and kept reading. 

'Target: Nygma, Edward'. And his mugshot taken inside Arkham when he was admitted along with his psychiatric analysis data and general information about his education, career, and private life. It contained only a few childhood references he carefully shared in Arkham, with no specific details and no names of his parents. Seems like Ed did an excellent job of covering his tracks. Or whoever organized this didn't bother enough to research him more thoroughly, deeming the data they had sufficient. 

'Target engaged'. Picture taken from behind the shelves in that unfortunate wine store: Ed is holding a bottle and smiling at Isabella. Another one taken across the street from where they sat on the stairs: they're kissing before saying goodbye in the morning. 

Ed felt another wave of bile rising to his throat. How could he be so utterly pathologically stupid? What another real person except him would be weird enough to approach someone with a riddle?! How could he stand up his best friend for so obviously fake person, a glaring duplicate of the woman he had murdered? Oswald waited for him all night, after finally finding the courage to tell something very important, confess his feelings. And idiot Ed had his tongue down a clone's throat.

Despicable. 

He recalled his own words declaring that the time he knew Isabella seemed like a dream. That's exactly what it was. A dream induced by a clone of Kristen Kringle armed with Edward's own quirks. A doll, created specifically for him, too ideal to be true. That total blindness was even worse than his ignorance towards Oswald's and his own blooming feelings. 

There were a few pictures taken inside Isabella's home and her library. They were being watched constantly. There was a photo of Oswald standing inches apart from Isabella. The shot was taken by one of the hidden cameras behind him, so Ed couldn't see his face. Isabella, however, was looking down on Oswald — both literally and figuratively — and smirking condescendingly. Riddler wished he could return back in time and strangle her for thinking she could be superior to the Penguin in any way. 

One picture showed Ed kissing a complete carbon copy of Kristen after Isabella did her makeover. Why in the world did he not notice how utterly creepy that was? Even for a real woman, this behavior was just outright sick and twisted. He recalled her words. She said she looked up Miss Kringle's images from old newspapers. Black and white images. And she knew the exact tone of red to dye her hair. 

How could you be so blind?! Stupid, pathetic ignoramus!  Riddler was raging inside his head, his yelling deafening. 

Ed gritted his teeth and bit his lip to endure the feeling of his mind tearing itself to shreds. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed on them with fingers, pushing glasses away, until he saw bright spots within the blackness.

"Eddie, I know how hard it is for you. Perhaps you should stop there? You've seen enough," Oswald's quiet voice full of concern. One of his arms still securely wrapped around Ed's back, the other slowly stroking up and down his upper arm. 

The touch and the sound of his boyfriend's soft voice was enough to quiet the thunderstorm in his mind just a little bit. Ed shook his head, forced his eyes to open, and straightened his glasses, determined to learn everything about his miserable failure. He didn't dare to speak, afraid of what may come out of his mouth besides an inhuman scream scratching inside his throat, yearning to escape. 

"Alright, I'm here for you," Oswald assured, squeezing his shoulder, and Ed was eternally grateful for his support. He wasn't sure he would’ve remained sane if he was going through all of this alone. 

'Subject terminated'  — the picture of Isabella's mangled body on the autopsy table in the GCPD. 

The feeling from seeing it now was so different from what it was back then. When Ed saw this for real, he was devastated, his little perfect dream world shattered, run over by a train, literally. Now, all he felt was hatred and anger. Towards Isabella and her creators, towards Gotham that twists everyone's lives in the most cruel manner, leaving only sorrow and madness behind. But most of all, he felt disdain and disgust towards his younger self. Delusional moron infected by imposed beliefs of a proper, normal life. Pathetic, worthless idiot. 

One of the last pages had a newspaper article on the Mayor's harsh words about the people of Gotham clipped to it, along with the one about his disappearance. Next to it, a picture taken from the tower overlooking the docks. The camera captured from above the moment of Ed pushing Oswald's body to the water: Oswald's bound hands failing to stop the bleeding, wide blue eyes full of hurt and tears. The caption stated 'Mission successful'.  And a few remarks about the ways to control the flows of power released with the Penguin’s demise. 

Two drops landed on the paper. Only a few seconds later, Ed realized they were his tears. His vision blurred, and he could no longer see the documents in his lap. Was it because of the water in his eyes or because of how hard his body was shaking? He registered Oswald's worried voice calling his name in the distance and felt a tight grip on his upper arms. 

Oswald. He knew all of this. His slips made sense now, first about clones and second about a 'fake Ed' being surprisingly real. Oswald was all alone when he learned the truth; he had no one to help him cope with the fact that his best friend, the love of his life, tried to kill him for destroying an artificial replica of the long-dead woman. And still, despite all of this, he loved Edward. After this monstrous display of stupidity. How? Why? It doesn't make any sense. He was hurting himself by bearing the truth alone only to protect worthless idiot Ed. 

"Ed? Eddie! ED!" Oswald shook his shoulders harshly, bringing him back to reality. Ed gasped as his vision restored. The files and photos were scattered across the floor. Oswald was standing on his knees before Ed, his hands running around his shoulders frantically, grasping and squeezing, his face full of care and concern. Ed felt sick with himself. How can he just sit here and receive Oswald's love after everything? Ed had Oswald's forgiveness, but now he was pushed light-years away from forgiving himself. 

Without saying a word, Ed carefully dislodged his boyfriend's hands and helped him get up on his feet. Why add extra pain in Oswald's bad leg to Edward's list of sins? Then abruptly stood up and ran to the nearest bathroom, slamming the door behind and not heeding Oswald's calling after him. He barely made it to the toilet before losing his dinner. Soon his retching turned into uncontrollable sobbing. Edward sat on the floor, hugging his legs close to the chest, rocking back and forth and staring at one spot on the wall before him. 

He still felt sick to the bones at the memory of that fateful week. He kissed a carbon copy of Kristen after only a few hours of their first meeting. He slept with a plastic doll wearing Kristen's face and spitting riddles. And he didn't think there was something disturbingly wrong with it. Ed wanted to throw up again, but his stomach was empty already. 

A gentle knock on the door. 

"Edward? How can I help you? Should I come in?" Oswald's soft voice made tightness in Ed's chest even more unbearable. 

"No. I'm fine," he croaked. He wouldn't bear looking into Oswald's eyes right now. He dreaded to look into his own. 

Oswald sighed. "You're not, Ed. But you will be, I promise. Just remember, it's all in the past, none of this matters now. I'll be waiting for you in the living room, alright?" 

Ed tried to answer but managed only a whimper. It seemed enough for his understanding boyfriend, and seconds later, he heard muffled uneven steps fading away. 

What seemed like an eternity later, Ed took a deep, shuddering breath and crawled up on wobbling legs. He staggered toward the sink to rinse his mouth, brush his teeth, and splash cold water on his face, hoping to restore some clarity. When Edward glanced into the mirror, it turned out he looked as pathetically as he felt. Unkempt hair, red eyes, trembling lips, glasses askew. 

"It's all your fault, Ed," he gritted through his teeth, glaring with hatred settled deep inside his own eyes. 

Nobody answered him; reflection didn't distort, the only voice in his head was his own, screaming without pause, drowning out any coherent thought. He was whole and alone, only himself to blame. To hate. To destroy. 

He smashed his fist into the mirror, right in the face of his pathetic self. The mirror broke, twisting and shattering his reflection, but leaving it still too visible and even more disgusting. 

He threw his fist again. Punching the mouth that proclaimed his love for a Kristen-like puppet and spat words of hatred in the face of the only person who truly loved him. 

And again. In the eyes that were too blind when it mattered. Made him fall for the appearance of a dead woman. The eyes that didn't see the details and clues that were right before him, along with the most obvious truth that Isabella was never real. 

And again. This time on one of the ears. The same ears that heard a riddle about time that made him forget he was supposed to be home for dinner at eight. What an ironic idiocy! 

And again. The hit landed on the forehead covering his worthless brain that decided to turn off for the sake of someone else's ideals of a proper life. The mind that was usually so sharp and observant but got tricked so shamefully easy. 

He tried to strike again but couldn't. Something was holding him. Arms. Strong arms restrained him, wrapping his frame in a firm tight embrace. Someone pressed themselves behind Ed and locked their hands in front of his chest, securing him with no chance to break free, no matter how much he thrashed and struggled. 

Ed heard pained sounds similar to a dying animal growling and whimpering, hurt, and terrified. It took him a while to realize that the sounds were coming from his own throat. Edward willed himself to be silent; he painfully bit on his lower lip to focus. The metallic taste of blood barely registered in his frantic mind. 

"Shh, Edward. It's Oswald; I'm here. Calm down, please. It's all in the past. I'm with you, we're together, Ed. Please come back to me," he heard muffled murmuring behind his back. 

Oswald. Oswald is here. Ed is not alone. 

"Oz…" he sobbed. Weird, he thought he had no more tears left. 

"Yes, Eddie. I'm here, I've got you. Please, I need you to calm down and breathe," Oswald's tender but firm voice helped him to focus, tight embrace grounded him in the present moment. 

Ed stopped fighting, and the iron grip around him loosened slightly. He noticed that with his struggles, he was digging his nails deep into Oswald's arms. Edward wasn't sure if the blood on them was his own or was drawn by his fighting. He wanted to bite off his own fingers for hurting his precious bird. 

"Come here," Oswald whispered and turned Ed around, coaxing him in a tight hug. Edward gratefully clung to his boyfriend's frame like a drowning man clutching desperately at a straw. And he indeed felt like he was drowning, lungs burned from lack of oxygen. Was Ed hyperventilating and failed to notice? Figures, if he managed to miss a fairly unsettling fact that Kristen had a riddle-loving doppelganger.

Oswald was rubbing soothing circles on his back, whispering tender words and practically holding Edward's weight attached to him in a bone-crushing embrace. Ed couldn't do more than sob and grasp Oswald's white shirt, smearing blood over it. He didn't even feel pain from mirror shards stuck in his knuckles. 

"Eddie, my love. We need to take care of your hand, stop the bleeding. Do you think you can come with me to the living room?" Oswald's soft words were followed by his warm lips pressing to Ed's temple. 

He nodded, muffling his whimper in Oswald's shoulder. Oswald slowly disentangled them from embrace but still held onto Ed's forearm while fetching the first aid kit. They proceeded to the living room, Oswald firmly hugging Ed around the waist, providing much-needed support for his wobbly legs. 

Oswald carefully sat him on the couch and pulled the coffee table closer, using it for the medical supplies. His precise movements soothed Edward's nerves, and he could almost breathe properly. Blood was tickling his fingers as it rapidly slid down them and onto the floor. The pain seemed distant, numb; his mental anguish overwhelmed physical discomfort. 

Oswald gently lifted Ed's bleeding hand and placed it onto the folded gauze on the table. 

"Damn it, Ed. Why would you do that?" Oswald groused, wincing sympathetically. He disinfected the sharp tweezers and leaned down to the table, tilting his head slightly to the left to have a better view of the wounds with his one eye. 

Ed didn't answer, watching absently how Oswald's surprisingly steady hands removed one shard after another, piling them on a small plate. He stopped sobbing and after intense hysteria, felt hollow, numb to everything. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through this. I was hoping to spare you the pain," Oswald muttered, pulling out another bloodied piece of mirror. 

"You have nothing to apologize for. I appreciate your concern, Oswald," he didn't even recognize his own voice, so dull and empty, almost mechanical. "What else did you learn?" 

Oswald glanced at him, dumbfoundedly. "Ed, I don't think we should talk about this now. You-" 

"What. Else," Ed gritted out. He couldn't even muster gentle tones to his voice, and his demand sounded much harsher than intended. Oswald didn't deserve his rudeness. Edward will need to apologize for it later; he'll have to make a lot of amends to his loving boyfriend. 

Oswald sighed and turned back to tending his wounds, being extra careful now with the extraction of the smaller shards. 

"As I said before, Professor Strange gave me that file when I came for you and Lee. Out of nowhere, he asked me if I could confirm the romantic nature of your relationship with her, and he saw it in my expression that I could. He said, I quote, 'but she is so different from them. What an unexpected development'," Oswald even did a pretty good impression of Professor's manner of speech, stretching words beyond their limits. In other circumstances, Ed would've laughed. "It caught my attention, and I politely asked him to elaborate. When he declined, I asked less politely, and he had no choice but to tell me everything."

Oswald pulled out a magnifying glass and a flashlight. He studied Ed's hand closely, making sure that there were no more small shards. He seemed satisfied with the results and quickly went to the kitchen and back, carrying a bowl of water and another empty one. 

"Strange told me he was curious about your remarkable intelligence and psyche, he wanted to try a different approach to your treatment when you were under his care in Arkham," Ed frowned. All that was put in motion so long ago? It didn't even sound plausible. 

Oswald gently took Edward's hand and held it over the empty bowl, pouring lukewarm water on his cuts, carefully washing the blood away. The clear liquid turned translucent red where it gathered. 

"As it happened, he was polishing his method of cloning people at that time. Apparently, Strange and the Court of Owls, his employer, wanted to make a real production out of it. They needed to be able to create and train clones of all kinds of people, granting them the required traits and skills. I'm guessing they aimed to replace some real people with their obedient copies, but Strange didn't know, he only provided research and results, not asking about the strategy."

After washing the wounds, Oswald once again thoroughly searched them for any remaining shards but found none. 

"A woman with the face of your dead girlfriend was merely another experiment to test their system's results. They made clones of numerous different people, some just random test subjects and some with a specific purpose."

He tenderly dried Ed's hand with a soft towel, careful to not touch the wound itself. The cuts were still slightly bleeding, but there was no need for stitches. Oswald gently pressed a piece of folded gauze to his knuckles and held it there to stop the bleeding. 

"As for you, Professor studied your case file and wanted to learn if it was possible to lead you back to your concept of normal life. Make your darker self dormant and subdued once more in hopes of turning you away from the life of crime, thus 'healing' and rehabilitating you. That's what Isabella Flint was originally created for. However, she escaped during the Indian Hill breakout along with Stranger's monsters and some other clones. Her whereabouts after that were unknown."

Oswald changed the bloodied gauze for a new one. The bleeding was noticeably less intense. 

"It would seem that the Court had found and repurposed her later. Those pictures you saw of her combat training, Strange had nothing to do with that, he never intended for her to become a weapon. She was supposed to be your cure: a lure and an anchor for your softer side. Even her killer fetish was a requirement only so that she would get excited about your past instead of scared or disgusted."

It made so much sense now. Ed was indeed lured like a brainless goldfish, ready to give up what he was becoming for a second chance of a 'normal' life. During that week, he was more interested in Isabella than in anything happening around them. He had to give it to Strange: the man certainly knows how to make people tick. 

He was drawn back from his thoughts by the sharp tingling on his hand. Oswald was carefully applying disinfectant around the cuts, but it still hurt. Huh. Ed was feeling pain more clearly now. Probably a good sign, no matter how inconvenient. 

"When the Court saw how strong you and I were together, how much real power over the city we claimed and were going to hold, they decided to do something about it. So they used a battle-ready clone with a delicate personality, proclivity for riddles, and a developed taste for tall men with glasses; gave her a target and a mission. No one knows what their end goal was. I doubt they wanted me dead. I spoke with Kathryn at the Founders dinner, and she said they were watching me for a while and would contact me when the time was right," he shrugged. "Anyway, seems like the results of our mistakes were deemed satisfactory. Not that it matters now: the Court is no more, we survived and found our way to each other in the end." 

Oswald finished gently wrapping gauze around Ed's hurt fingers and knuckles. He secured it, made sure that Ed was able to clench his fist, and pressed a feather-light kiss to his hand before placing it on Ed's knee. Oswald smiled at him lovingly and rose up. 

"Wait here, please. You can busy yourself with cleaning up the mess," he offered before limping away with red-hazed water and plate with piled-up mirror shards. 

Ed did as he was told, his movements automatic and mind busy with thoroughly analyzing the new information now that the initial panic had subsided. 

What exactly the Court's plan was? Was Isabella supposed to lure him away from Oswald to make him more vulnerable? He had no trusted friends or allies besides Ed. Or did they want to hold Ed's life in Isabella's hands and blackmail Oswald with it? No, that seems unlikely, Penguin wasn't known for his willingness to sacrifice his power for an employee, even an important one. And they couldn't know about his feelings for Ed. Could they?... Admittedly, some articles were speculating about more than a friendly relationship between the Mayor and his Chief of Staff, but Ed never paid attention to them, he didn't bother to consider seemingly unfounded gossip. Another one on his list of failures. 

Soon Oswald returned with a steaming cup in his hands. He was softly smiling at Ed as he passed him the brew. It smelled nice, sweetly herbal. 

"It's chamomile tea. My mother's remedy for stress and anxiety," Oswald explained and sat down next to Ed, resting a reassuring hand on his thigh. 

"Thank you, Oswald," he managed to mumble. 

"You're welcome, my dear. Drink, it'll help you relax and hopefully get a full night's sleep for once," his boyfriend murmured and pressed himself closer against Ed. 

We really don't deserve him, huh?  Riddler mused. Now even he realizes that. Not surprising, considering that even after all they've just learned, Oswald still brings a cup of soothing chamomile tea. Still cares so much. Still loves so deeply. 

No, we absolutely don't.  

But we still have him anyway. Better work hard to become worthy of our treasure then. Let's not screw this up, shall we? 

Tea was pleasant; sweet taste warmed his throat, and Ed could breathe in full lungs finally. He noticed red scratch marks on Oswald's arms left by his hectic struggles, and another tidal wave of guilt washed over him. 

"Oswald, I can't put into words how sorry I am," he carefully traced fingertips over red lines made by his thankfully blunt short nails. 

Oswald chuckled. "Ed, it's just a scratch. Literally. I'm pretty sure I'll survive it." 

"Not only for that. For everything," Ed took another sip of herbal tea and covered Oswald's hand with his own. 

"What? No, Ed. Don't even dare to apologize. None of that was your fault; you were a victim in this case. They used your heart against you in a cruel, twisted way. You shouldn't feel guilty about being a human," Ed could hear it in Oswald's voice that he was speaking from his heart, not just empty placating words. He really meant it. 

"I wish I could go back in time and fix everything. Don't go to that wine store or don't talk to her. I wish I could make it right," Edward sighed and took another sip. 

"I don't." 

Ed almost choked on his tea. Oswald had the audacity to giggle at his reaction before elaborating. 

"If the clone didn't have its intended effect on you, the Court would've taken more drastic measures. I doubt they taught her martial arts for no reason."

The irony didn't go unnoticed by Edward. He was so worried about hurting Isabella when, in truth, she was the real danger. 

"Besides, I can see now that my love for you back then was selfish. I didn't see you as an equal, not really. I believe we both needed that time apart. You needed to become the Riddler, step out from under my shadow, find your own way. I needed to see how wrong I treated you and learn to love and respect you properly," he said, pale green eye locked with Ed's. "So no, Ed, I don't regret what happened anymore, and if given a chance, I probably wouldn't change anything. Our past helped shape us into what we are, and I like what we've become," he finished with a soft kiss on Edward's cheek. 

Oswald was right, of course. Perhaps they really needed to destroy what they had to build something new, something better. Who knows what would've happened if they didn't make those mistakes. Chances are, they would've been dead, assassinated for being too powerful and inconvenient for the Court. 

"So wise, my dear Penguin," Ed placed his empty cup on the table and wrapped both arms around his boyfriend's warm frame nestled snugly against him. "It amazes me how untroubled you are about all this."

Oswald huffed a chuckle. "You weren't conscious when I had just learned the truth… Let's just say it's good that you and Lee had already been stabbed. Strange's goons weren't so lucky." Ed snorted. He could imagine the extent of Penguin’s fury. 

"I've made my peace with all of this by now. Oddly enough, I even started hating that woman a little bit less. She was merely a weapon, after all. It explained her glaring stupidity in openly challenging a notorious criminal kingpin and the Mayor even after she knew about us and after I warned her," Oswald reminisced, releasing a displeased huff. 

"Wait, she knew? About your feelings for me?" Ed felt a little bit sick again. So that's why she looked at Oswald so condescendingly like she knew his big secret at held power over Penguin. She really deserved what she got. 

Oswald sighed deeply and nodded. "She did. Evidently, I had been too transparent. Or too eager to make her leave you alone," he shrugged, snuggling even closer as if reassuring himself that Edward was his now. He didn't need to worry about that, never again. Ed hugged his bird tighter.

"You went easy on her, all things considered," Ed chuckled. He wasn't a bit surprised by not feeling sad about her death anymore. Riddler stopped caring a long time ago. Now he was even glad. 

"Well, believe it or not, but I didn't want to break your heart more than I had to," Oswald muttered, sounding remorseful. 

"I believe you, Ozzie," Ed murmured, stroking his boyfriend's shoulder. "You were right back then, you know. I would've killed her as soon as I realized how much she was restraining me. And then I would've hated myself. Or she would've killed me if I was more confident about breaking up with her. But worrying about 'what ifs' is pointless. As you said, everything has led us to each other, and that's what matters in the end."

Ed pulled his boyfriend closer, and their lips met, Oswald smiling into the kiss. Ed was able to finally relax completely, melting in his precious bird's warm embrace. Isabella and the Court were things of the past; they couldn't affect them now, that woman wasn't even real. Edward and Oswald have left it all behind, begun their life anew. This is real. Oswald is real. 

Unless...

"How do I know you're not a clone?" Ed rattled, suddenly recoiling from the kiss. 

"Oh, your sense of humor is back, that's a good sign," Oswald chuckled, cupping his face. 

Bitter panic was overwhelming Ed once more. What if he was in love with another clone this whole time? 

"I'm not joking. What if I did kill the real Oswald, and you were just created to think you're him? To take back his power in favor of the Court. And then-..." his desperate flood of words was interrupted by Oswald's forefinger shushing his lips. 

"Ed! I'm gonna stop you right there. I can give you at least a few logical solid proofs I'm not a clone. First of all, I have all my memories. From my childhood until this moment, I have no blanks; it was real. Secondly, I can feel pain. Clones can't."

"For real?"

"Yes. They can get hurt, bleed, and die like ordinary people, but they don't feel pain. And finally, if I were a clone, I would've been dead already. They don't live a long human life. They can be fully functional for some time; then they have to take medicine to stay alive, slowly deteriorating until their body stops working completely."

Medicine. Ed recalled seeing some pills in Isabella's cabinet. Why the hell did he not pay attention to that? He prided himself for being so observant of every tiny detail. Yet failed to notice and research something that was literally staring right at him. 

Well, Oswald doesn't take any pills besides painkillers. That Ed would've noticed for sure. Still...

"You seem to know an awful lot about clones," Ed squinted at his boyfriend suspiciously. 

"Not at all. I only know what I learned from Strange and Cat."

"Selina Kyle? Why does she know about that?" 

The Court of Owls was supposed to be a secret organization; how did they allow a street trash girl to know their methods and survive? 

"Apparently, she was acquainted with the clone of Bruce Wayne. Young Mr. Wayne also communicated with his own doppelganger, who was later used by the Court. That's all the information I managed to buy from her. The point is, Edward, I'm as real as you are."

"Alright then. Tell me something only my Oswald could know," Riddler asked, smiling mischievously at his sweet boyfriend. He didn't doubt his realness anymore, just teased his lovely man. 

Oswald smirked. "Well, I'm pretty sure that male Emperor penguins keep their eggs warm by balancing them on their feet." 

They shared a laugh at the memory of their first interaction. Both Edward's dorkiness and Oswald's snarkiness were off the charts that day. It's a miracle Ed kept breathing after that encounter with the irritated deadly bird. 

"Come here, show me how this unique Penguin specimen can kiss," Ed pulled Oswald closer, settling him on his lap. 

Penguin happily obliged, and they melted in each other's embrace, allowing their tender touches to speak about their love. When their soft making out started to become more passionate, Ed pulled back from sweet lips, chuckling at Oswald's needy moan of protest. 

"Ozzie, since we have a first aid kit here, let's check your eye." 

"Wow, what a great way to kill the mood, Doctor Nygma," Oswald grumbled half-heartedly but obliged and crawled off Edward's lap, sitting back on the couch. 

Ed secretly loved when Oswald called him that. Well, perhaps not so secretly since his lover smirked knowingly and caressed Ed's blushing cheeks. 

He took the flashlight and carefully pulled the gauze patch from Oswald's right eye. They stopped fully bandaging it last month, according to Lee's recommendations. 

"Ow!" Oswald flinched and covered his bad eye with his hand as soon as he opened it. 

Finally! 

"Did you see something?" Ed asked with excitement. 

"Yes, Ed, I was almost blinded by the light!" he replied harshly. Ed didn't pay attention to Oswald's grumpy tone and just scooped him into a quick hug. Finally, the sight started to return! 

"That's a good thing, Oswald, excellent. Now, I'll need you to hold on for a bit. I'll try to limit the lighting on your eye, but I still need to see it. Can you bear it for me?" 

Oswald smiled and shook his head with fondness. "Eddie, I can bear much more pain, you know it. Do what you must." 

Ed covered Oswald's line of sight, blocking the light from the fireplace with his hand. He sat closer to his beloved patient to prevent as much light as he could and nodded to Oswald so he could open both eyes. Ed could see by Penguin’s tension that he still was in great pain, but he endured it silently and without fuss. 

Edward couldn't see much with such limited lighting, but he was confident that the blood previously covering the entire eyeball, had dissolved partially. Oswald's pupil was severely dilated. And was his iris more blue than on the healthy eye, or was it the dim lighting's fault? Most of the white of his eye was still bloodshot but it'll subside with time. 

"Amazing, Oswald. You'll have some sight in this eye restored with time. Your painful reaction to the light was simply due to the eye being out of practice. You can close it, and I'm putting a fresh patch for now, but you'll have to begin getting used to the light once again, starting tomorrow. I have some ideas on how to make it easier for you."

Oswald seemed excited to see with both eyes again, but now he hesitated, frowning a little as Ed was carefully applying a new patch. 

"Are you sure it's the only reason? What if it's forever?"

"I'm certain it'll be better. It's like when your eyes hurt if you suddenly turn on the bright light in a dark room. Only your eye was in a dark room for three months," he explained. "Your pupil is very dilated. If that is permanent, then your eye might remain more sensitive to light than the other one. But don't worry, we'll find some solution to it if that's the case. We'll visit Lee tomorrow morning so she can double-check everything with proper equipment."

It seems like emotional exhaustion and chamomile tea started to take full effect on Ed: he felt drowsy, limbs heavier than they should be. Oswald helped him get up, and they made their way upstairs. After barely changing into his pajamas, Ed fell asleep in his beloved boyfriend's warm embrace. 

—?—

The next morning Lee confirmed the diagnosis. It would seem the pupil was indeed widened permanently, it didn't contract or dilate no matter how much or little light was cast upon it. And in the light of day, they saw that iris was icy blue, not sea green like Oswald's left eye. Mydriasis and heterochromia are known side effects of the eye injury, Ed had no worries about that, and both Oswald's eyes were the most beautiful for him anyway. Perhaps he'll even look more intimidating to his underlings like that. Penguin was visibly relieved when they finally applied the patch once again. 

On the half-way out of the clinic, Jim Gordon stopped them and informed that they were invited to the celebration ceremony at the City Hall in three days. Unsurprisingly, he deflated their questions about the full pardon, only repeating that they are expected to be present. 

When Ed met Oswald inside his office in the Iceberg Lounge later that evening, they decided to attend the ceremony and see what happens. Of course, they'll be armed and do anything to avoid being arrested. They won't just bring themselves gift-wrapped for the new Commissioner to take easily. 

"Without a bridle or a saddle, across a bridge I ride a-straddle. And those I ride, by help of me, though almost blind, are made to see. What am I?" Ed asked, holding his solution for Oswald's problem with light sensitivity behind his back. 

Penguin rolled his eyes and shook his head but without real annoyance behind it. After a short minute of impatient pondering, he sighed. "I give up, Ed, it's been a long day," he admitted grudgingly. 

Riddler grinned triumphantly; he could still stump his smart partner sometimes. 

"Ta-daa!" Ed presented his device, eager to try it. He spent a few sleepless nights tinkering with this thing; it'd better work. 

"Ed, I'm not wearing glasses!" Oswald grimaced. 

"Hey, it's not just any glasses. It's opaque occluder glasses, designed specifically for my handsome feathered friend by yours truly," he smiled and bowed a little, still holding out his device for Oswald.

"I don't care what they're called; I'll look stupid in them," Oswald insisted, not even taking the glasses from Ed's hand. 

"No, you won't. At least try them on. Please?... For me?" he tried, and that finally crushed Oswald's defenses. 

Penguin released a deep sigh and reluctantly complied. He pulled off his eyepatch and put the glasses on. 

Ed couldn't stop his smile spreading at the scene; he barely managed not to squeal. For some reason, Oswald looked so achingly adorable in those glasses. Round black frames softened his features, and he was no longer deadly violent Penguin but innocently sweet Ozzie. Ed pulled him into a long tender kiss. This gentle creature evoked only the softest feelings in Riddler. Willingness to protect, keep him safe, warm, and happy. 

"Told you, I'd look ridiculous in glasses. You can't even stop smiling," Oswald pouted, and it made him even more childishly sweet. 

"Of course I can't, you look so adorable, my cute baby Penguin," Ed praised, unable to tear gaze from his handsome boyfriend. 

"Exactly. I'm the Penguin; I'm not supposed to be adorable or cute!" Oswald declared and went to look in the full-length mirror. "Damn it, Ed. Did you have to make them so soft and round?" he groaned. 

"Nope," Ed said giddily, popping the 'p' sound. "But I'm so glad I did." 

Even Oswald's eye roll and reproachful glare failed to look intimidating; it was too lovely to seem threatening. Riddler came closer behind him and kissed the top of his bird's head, burying his face in spiky feathery hair, so soft even with all the product in it. 

He smiled at their reflection and adjusted the small gears on the right side of Oswald's glasses. The contraption is supposed to allow the smallest amount of light through the tiny holes on all sides and reflect it with small mirrors inside, creating a soft, even luminescence all around the eye. It'll ease the discomfort and pressure, unlike the sharp, direct light he would've had to endure otherwise. Ed waited for any sign of pain, and as soon as Oswald winced slightly, he stopped. 

"There. We'll adjust the brightness level according to the surroundings and let your eye get used to the light over time. And you can finally blink freely; it'll help clear your eyeball from the blood faster. When we don't have to lower the brightness anymore, we'll check your eyesight and make glasses with one lens or two different lenses." Oswald frowned at him and shook his head. "Or we could just make a monocle." 

"Yes, that's a much better idea, my dear friend. Thank you," Oswald pressed his back closer to Edward's chest and locked their entwined hands in front of him, smiling back at their reflection. They did look stunning together, after all. 

Chapter Text

They reached the City Hall earlier than expected. Oswald placed a few of his bodyguards strategically; they're supposed to blend with the crowd and protect him and Riddler in case of a firefight. 

Ed made him wear those glasses in the end; Oswald was still convinced he looked ridiculous in them. But he had to trust his brilliant boyfriend's judgment and hope his sight will adjust to the light sooner rather than later. Right now, he experienced only moderate discomfort as opposed to the searing pain he felt when he accidentally opened both eyes in the morning. Ed promised the eye would get used to the natural light within a week or two. 

Penguin and Riddler paraded through the main entrance of the City Hall and drew quite a few gazes their way. Oswald smirked, pleased by the extra attention, and straightened his back, holding head proudly high. He won't allow his petty insecurities regarding the glasses to spoil his immaculate image. Both Penguin and his partner looked astonishing in their fresh attires recently delivered from Blüdhaven. More than a few times, Oswald traced his fingertips over the silky smooth shimmering material of his new black trench coat. And Edward's patterned teal shirt combined with the neat emerald tie did things to Oswald, making his hands itch with the desire to take them off his gorgeous man and bare his sweet neck for Penguin to ravish. 

Guests barely started to arrive, but Oswald spotted some familiar faces already. One of them being Jim Gordon himself, their future Commissioner if the rumors are true. He was chatting with his wife and Barbara, who was lightly rocking her dark-grey pram. When Jim saw two 'ex-criminals', he nodded and even managed a small smile their way. Oswald grinned widely at his 'old friend' and two women, who smiled back; Barbara playfully waved. 

Oswald noticed how Ed didn't even look at the Captain. Instead, he cheerfully beamed and nodded at Lucius Fox, who was talking to Bruce Wayne and humbly returned the greeting. Oswald barely restrained himself from grabbing his boyfriend's arm and pulling him into a bruising kiss. It's not like he was jealous, no, he trusted Edward completely. He just wanted to make it clear for everyone who exactly does Riddler belong to. 

Slowly the hall became filled with a small crowd of police and military officers, high society members, city officials, and other people of varying importance. Why nobody bothered to heat the place was a mystery that not even Riddler could solve, figuratively speaking. Most of the guests didn't take off their coats, and for once, Oswald wished he had chosen gloves with fingers. 

Before the event's opening, Penguin mingled with the socialites, establishing connections and discussing existing and future business opportunities. Ed predictably went to chat with his 'Foxy' friend, one of the few people in Gotham whose company wasn't a nuisance to him. 

Penguin found it peculiar that Selina Kyle decided not to show up at all. He expected her to be eager to steal some trinkets from wealthy ceremony attendees, as she was prone to do. Although she did seem to change a lot during the last year with all that Jeremiah situation. Oswald wondered if the girl was still out for Penguin's blood; he wouldn't want to kill her as he did Tabitha. Selina didn't do anything too unforgivable to him yet, and Oswald was quite fond of the young cunning survivor. But Penguin's self-preservation will have to come first if she doesn't let go of her revenge. Time will tell, he supposed.

When the moment came to begin the ceremony, the announcer welcomed all attendees and expressed special gratitude to the Gotham's officials for hosting this event. And, speaking about the main people in power, he proposed to start with proclaiming Mrs. Claire Chang the official Mayor of Gotham. She was Acting Mayor during the last three months of emergency recovery. And now it was decided by the state to appoint her without election and competition due to severe circumstances. Figures.

Mrs. Chang was the epitome of vapid politicians Oswald didn't want to give Gotham to. She wasn't even a cold, calculating shark that surfed the waters of politics. She was a piranha: single-minded, aggressive, and always hungry. She never cared for this city and fled from it like a rat from a sinking ship even before the bridges blew. On top of all that, Claire Chang hated Penguin with passion. She had been the head of the Finance department until Mayor Cobblepot fired her for brazen inefficiency and destructive methods of managing the city's business relationships. After Penguin’s disappearance, Claire Chang bought her way back into the Office and was lucky enough to avoid Jeremiah's explosions. She returned to the resurging Gotham and turned out to be the highest official person of power left, thus becoming an Acting Mayor until further notice. Oswald could bet his club that she bought this uncontested appointment as well; no way her heinous strategies were deemed justified without sufficient bribery. 

Among her favorite tools of managing the city's funds were unreasonably excessive levels of bureaucracy and exorbitant taxes, both aimed at sucking the businesses dry. Under her rule, the budget will be rapidly filled but only for a while. After that, the system will inevitably crumble, but she wouldn't care because her pockets will be full enough without the need to stay in this position any longer. Money is all that woman cares about, and power is just the means to gain more. For Penguin, it has always been the opposite.

Granted, Mayor Cobblepot also put his needs and profits before the city; he wasn't some altruistic saint politician. But he sincerely loved Gotham and actually made it better during his days in the Office. Nevermind increased safety: Penguin controlled the Underworld, of course, he could set a preferable crime level. But Mayor Cobblepot also built schools, restored infrastructure, resupplied hospitals, attracted massive investments from different businesses and corporations, unwilling to put all responsibility and trust in the money of Wayne Enterprises. Gotham indeed prospered during the months he and Ed were in charge. A shame that nobody cared to preserve and expand the results of his achievements. Or even appreciate them, for that matter. 

During the last three months, Oswald had more altercations with Acting Mayor Chang than he had with Jim Gordon during the whole previous year. His business affairs concerning the Iceberg Lounge were a battlefield. Penguin’s wealth and determination against Claire Chang's stubborn bureaucracy. He won, of course, but it cost him a lot of money, time and nerves. With her as official Mayor for at least one term, it'll be insufferable. Perhaps he should just kill her, Oswald mused while the woman was finishing her short speech about gladly accepting this responsibility. 

Her appointment was followed by more announcements regarding the heads of departments and city officials. Finally, the GCPD officers, who stayed to fight for Gotham despite the military orders, were called onto the stage. All of them were rewarded with medals and proclaimed war heroes. The announcer thanked them all for coming again and gave the word to Mayor Chang. 

As her first statement on this position, she bestowed upon Captain Gordon the title of Commissioner. It was settled. Jim Gordon just became one of the most influential people in Gotham. He made so many mistakes on his way there; Oswald couldn’t help but wonder how much more he will make in the future. Navigating the politics is much harder than handling crooked bullheads in police: it requires wit, not muscle. Jim won't be able to settle anything with his favorite method of fists and guns there. Will he manage to summon enough cunning to stay afloat in those deep waters, or will he drown together with his blatant self-righteousness and high morality? It'll be entertaining to observe, Oswald supposed. 

Mayor gave the word to the new Commissioner, and after a round of applause, he stepped forward. 

"I'm honored to be entitled to this new position. Thank you for putting your trust in me. I promise to do everything in my power to make Gotham a better, safer city with a strong police force, ready and capable of protecting our citizens." A short pause and polite clapping. 

"After the city was saved, our path towards a better future has only just begun. We've all been working tirelessly for the last three months. As a result of that work and for my first announcement as the Commissioner, I'm proud to tell you that Blackgate Penitentiary and Arkham Asylum are functional once again." Another round of applause welcoming those 'good' news. 

"They're still being restructured and reinforced, but High-security wing in Blackgate and Intensive treatment level in Arkham already contain numerous dangerous criminals. Among the most notorious ones we managed to arrest until now are the following: Jonathan Crane, Jervis Tetch, Waylon Jones aka Killer Croc, Eduardo Dorrance, Hugo Strange. And that's only to name a few."

The applause this time was more active, followed by approving cheers. Next, Jim was expected to announce either the list of most wanted or those who got pardoned. In any case, Penguin's and Riddler's current standing with the law will be revealed. Oswald's hand tensed, prepared to draw a gun and take the nearest person hostage to aid in their escape. As much as he hated to resort to threatening an infant's mother, Barbara was standing right next to him, and she was important to Jim. He would let Penguin and Riddler leave to ensure her safety. With careful sideways glances, Oswald made sure that his bodyguards were at the ready. Riddler’s hand was inside his coat's pocket, where Oswald saw him placing a gun earlier. 

After cheering faded, Jim continued his speech. 

"Furthermore, following citizens with previous criminal records have been cleared of all charges and granted full pardon: Leslie Thompkins, Barbara Kean, Oswald Cobblepot, and Edward Nygma. Gotham thanks you for your brave assistance in defending the city and gives you a second chance. I suggest you don't waste it," Jim said, staring pointedly at Oswald for some reason. 

Oswald exhaled in relief and nodded gratefully at the new Commissioner. He could imagine how difficult it was for Jim to persuade Mayor Chang and other officials to let Penguin walk free. Not to mention his own grudges against him and Riddler. Perhaps Jim truly believed that Oswald could leave the life of crime behind and even stop Ed from returning to his deadly games with the GCPD. He was wrong, of course. Neither Penguin nor Riddler had any intention to give up their claim on the city. But this pardon was significant as it allowed them to scheme freely without bothering with inconveniences of fugitives from the law. In the best-case scenario, Penguin will once again have an opportunity to operate in plain sight and build his throne anew. And Riddler will stay free until he's caught in action, which he, hopefully, won't allow.

Oswald wanted to kiss and hug his handsome partner, but it'll have to wait. All they could do was grin happily at each other. Ed grabbed Oswald's arm in excitement but quickly composed himself and let go of him. The warmth from the touch remained, though, and made him smile even wider. Barbara and Lee weren't so constrained in their show of emotions and squeezed each other in a tight embrace, giggling happily. 

"Unfortunately, I also have to admit the following notorious criminals are still at large: Ivy Pepper, Victor Zsasz, the woman going by alias Ecco, Nyssa al Ghul, Victor Fries, and Bridgit Pike. They are considered to be armed and exceptionally dangerous. In case any of you have knowledge of their location, I remind that it's your civic duty to share that information with the GCPD." Once again, Jim intently locked his eyes with Oswald's. He only smiled and batted eyelashes innocently in response. 

Of course, Oswald had a pretty good idea of where some of the mentioned criminals could be hiding. Namely, Mr. Freeze. A man of his unique necessities doesn't have a too wide choice of residences. Penguin was surprised that police still haven't found the man forced to live in below zero temperatures. Firefly was also quite predictable with her preferred habitat. Still, Penguin wasn't going to give away that information for nothing in return. 

Ivy's location was basically common knowledge at this point. After her little altercation at the GCPD last time, she took Zsasz and retreated back to her park, presumably to recover faster close to her Mother Nature. Neither police or military managed to drive them out yet, powerless against a live forest with deadly vines, poisonous spores, and a hail of bullets. Penguin considered sending his own hired guns but ultimately decided that revenge on his traitorous ex-employee wasn't worth such a waste of resources right now. Besides, it wouldn't be satisfying enough to punish the brainwashed assassin.

Jim finished his speech by appointing new wardens for Blackgate and Arkham. 

Captain Stein, charged with overseeing the Blackgate inmates' containment, will be a much harder egg to crack. He was one of Jim Gordon's military officers, a man of strong will, harsh discipline, and strict adherence to the law. Thankfully, Penguin did his homework and knew Warden Stein's weakness: his niece, young and ambitious reporter for 'The Gotham Times'. He'll think of ways to use her when and if the time comes. 

Dr. White, placed to overlook the treatment of Gotham's criminally insane, was a man in his late sixties, known for his hopelessly lackadaisical attitude from his time as Arkham's lead psychiatrist under Warden Quimby's command. He was appointed probably only because no one else wanted to get messed up in the half-restored madhouse affairs. And Warden White just didn't care much because the pay was a little better than before. It was useful for Oswald. If either Ed or he gets incarcerated there, it'll be possible to break or buy their way out. 

After Jim's finishing words of gratitude and encouragement, the announcer made a few more notes on the progress of Gotham's resurgence. He wholeheartedly thanked Mr. Wayne, Mr. Cobblepot, Mrs. Elliot, and Ms. Kean, for their generous donations to the cause. When all official matters had been covered, he thanked everyone for attending and offered to stay and drink for Gotham's rapid restoration and future prosperity.

—☂—

Oswald's head hurt. Mostly from the still too bright light seeping through his glasses. Perhaps he should've asked Ed to make it a little darker, but he wanted to speed up his adjustment process. The constant buzzing of the crowd around them didn't make it easier as well. He subtly told Ed that he was going to step away and rest for a minute. Edward understood him without further explanation and promised to bring something to drink. 

Before that, they spotted the director of the diving&salvaging company they hired to look for their sunken submarine and threatened in Blüdhaven; Ed headed to ask him about the progress. A week ago, the director came to visit Penguin personally in the Iceberg Lounge. After a few more heartfelt apologies, he mumbled that they'd found the sub. It would seem it blew up on one of the mines. They couldn't tell if it was piloted at the time of the collision but promised to do everything they could to investigate and salvage the remaining parts. Penguin 'persuaded' the man to make sure that all they recover returns to him, not gets lost in some worker's pockets. 

Oswald limped to the high window at the corner of the hall and propped himself on the windowsill. He quickly threw a painkiller in his mouth and swallowed without water. A few minutes of standing with closed eyes helped ease throbbing in his head a bit, and Oswald turned around just in time to see his gorgeous boyfriend approaching with two flutes of champagne. Even with more toned down green colors than usual, Riddler still stood out like a majestic wolf among insipid sheep, and Oswald couldn’t tear his gaze away from his spectacular partner in the black bowler hat. 

"They trawled the bottom of the river, trying to salvage what's left of the submarine. Of course, the treasure inside," Ed told him the results of his conversation with the director and passed one of the flutes. 

"Good," Oswald nodded and led the way closer to other people conversing in small groups around the hall. "We're gonna need that money if we're going to buy up judges, councilmen, city officials. With Gordon as Commissioner, we can't be too careful."

He turned to clink glasses with Edward softly smiling at him. The champagne was surprisingly good, it was rare for a city-hosted event to have free drinks of high quality. Pleasant warmth spread inside him, and Oswald hoped he'll warm up at least a little bit soon. If he were the Mayor, the guests wouldn't have to freeze in the heart of the City Hall right now. He drank and wanted to ask if they found any indication about Nyssa's fate but noticed Barbara Kean approaching them. She rolled her pram and wore a playful smirk on her face. 

"Wow, I almost wish I was filming that right now," she chirped. Oswald quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly. "You even drink in unison, bravo! So, when's the wedding, boys?" 

Penguin scoffed, and Riddler behind him sighed loudly. That again. It should've been clear by now that whatever Oswald and Ed were or weren't besides friends and partners will stay secret until they decide otherwise. 

Time to put an end to this nuisance, it stopped being amusing long ago. Penguin smiled sweetly. 

"Barbara! I guarantee that if you say another word on the subject, you won't get invited," he promised, still grinning at her with fake cheer. 

"Come now, Ozzie, you don't mean that," she said, more soberly this time. 

"Are you sure you want to test it?" he teased, knowing perfectly well that Barbara Kean would do anything to avoid missing an event of that scale. If there were even the tiniest chance that Riddler and Penguin were indeed dating and could possibly have a wedding someday, Barbara would kill for an invitation. She'll have to keep her mouth shut in case Penguin decided to deliver on his threat. 

She pouted and glared but didn't dare to discuss the subject further. Oswald heard Ed's quiet snort behind his shoulder. 

"Congratulations on your pardon," Oswald decided to switch the topic. "Do you plan on reopening your club now that you'll stay free for sure?" 

"Well, it's about time someone created a proper competition for the Iceberg," she smirked with a teasing glint in her blue eyes. "Although the real estate market looks so juicy. It'll bring huge profits, especially after these desperate times are over, and the property is ridiculously cheap right now. But you already know that, don't you, Pengy?" she winked playfully. Oswald smirked and inclined his head slightly. 

Of course he knew, he did buy a number of strategically chosen buildings and warehouses around Gotham, adding it to the land he managed to claim with documents stolen by Riddler during the first days of the reunification. Penguin probably shouldn't be too surprised that Barbara was aware of his dealings. She was always impressively well-informed of other people's affairs. 

"So, you're actually gonna try to stay clear from illegal activities this time around?" Ed asked. He stepped closer and now stood shoulder to shoulder with Oswald. 

"Obviously," she gave a slight eye roll. "We all have to make a decision, and I choose what's really important," Barbara glanced at her daughter's sleeping face with a gentle smile. 

Oswald was honestly glad to see that the woman finally got her happy ending and knew what she wanted to do with her life. He always had some kind of empathy and respect for Barbara, bordering on fondness even. Perhaps she reminded Penguin of himself with her ambitions, ruthless schemes, a cunning mind, and volatile temper. Like him, she had very few trusted friends, who also happened to try and kill her at some point. Oswald was relieved that Barbara seemed to give up on her revenge for Tabitha, so he didn't have to kill her after all. 

"What about you? Will you be good boys from now on?" she asked with a sly smirk. 

"Hope you don't expect them to answer honestly," noticeably tipsy Lee chuckled, coming to stay next to Barbara and holding two flutes of champagne. 

"I thought you weren't supposed to be drinking yet?" Ed wondered, frowning at the nursing mother. 

"Oh, she isn't, not on my watch," Dr. Thompkins answered for Barbara, who scoffed and rolled her eyes. Oswald knew how much she missed fine alcohol after a year of sobriety. She observed him like a vulture when he drank exquisite whiskey, and she couldn't due to her pregnancy. It was quite entertaining to watch and tease the poor woman sometimes. 

"I'm drinking for both of us," Lee smirked and swiftly emptied one of her glasses, placing it on the passing waiter's tray. 

"You and Pengy both use that excuse just to get wasted at my expense. So much for sisterhood, huh?" Barbara complained lightheartedly. Lee raised her eyebrows and smiled innocently in a silent 'What can you do?' gesture. 

For two women sharing one man — forget the murder attempts, this is Gotham — they were too friendly and warm with each other. Or perhaps they were sharing more than only Jim and the baby? Oswald internally laughed at the thought and decided to tease them with it if they bring up the subject of his romance with Edward again. 

"Cheers for our official freedom! To second chances!" Lee proposed, and three of them clinked their glasses. 

"Oh come on, it's not like Gordon would've actually put any of you two behind bars," Ed remarked.

"He'd have to," Lee insisted earnestly. "We were as much in danger of a sentence as you. And Jim learned of the final decision only a few days ago, so you can imagine how hard the last three months have been to him." 

"I can imagine how much harder his next years will be." Oswald huffed a chuckle and received reproachful stares from both women, who probably thought he meant his own involvement in the new Commissioner's future troubles. They weren't entirely wrong, of course. 

Baby Barbara Lee woke up and gave an intense whimper, stirring in her blankets and purple dress. 

"Oh well, you'll have to excuse us, boys," Barbara said. "Nice glasses, Ozzie," she dropped with a wink before turning back. Oswald couldn't tell if she mocked him or was being sincere.

"Thank you," he smiled just as ambiguously.

After one last nod to the two men, Lee and Barbara left to attend to the infant's needs.

Oswald finished his champagne, and Ed took his glass, leaving to find a waiter and bring them a refill. 

"Congratulations on your pardon, Oswald," he heard Jim's voice behind him. Penguin turned around with a bright smile. 

"Thank you, Commissioner Gordon! Hmm, that does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Jim actually smiled a little, genuinely as it seemed. "I, for my part, am not sure if I should congratulate or feel sorry for you. You just got thrown into deep dark waters, Jim. Believe me when I say that Penguins aren't the worst creatures you'll encounter there." 

"I expect as much," he agreed with a nod. "At least there's no more organized underworld in Gotham, one less problem to worry about." 

Penguin suppressed a desire to laugh in Commissioner's face. 

"And you consider it a good thing?" 

"We have the biggest gang leaders and heads of crime families locked up, streets getting cleaner and safer each day. People trust the GCPD with their protection now, not gangsters. The time of criminals setting the rules has passed," Jim explained, fully convinced the problem is solved for good. 

Not for the first time, Oswald was shocked at the new Commissioner's naivety and ignorance. Jim was never able to see a bigger picture and plan ten steps ahead, but this level of delusion and short-sightedness was alarmingly absurd. 

"And you honestly believe they'll stay scattered like that for long? It's just the calm before the storm, Jim. What happens when everyone you've caught serves their time and walk free once more? Do you truly prefer anarchy over order inside the criminal world?" It was probably pointless to try and make Jim see the reason, but Penguin just couldn't stay silent. 

"Crime must be stopped, not organized. If ex-prisoners return to their old ways, we'll just have to lock them up again," Jim explained and shrugged like it was the most obvious truth of life. 

Unbelievable. After everything Gordon had seen and done, he still doesn't realize how the balance of power works. 

"I feel like I should warn you. Don't get messed up in illegal affairs again, Oswald. You won't get a free pass, favors or special treatment. If you go against the law once more, I'll have no choice but to put you into Blackgate." 

"Oh please, Commissioner. Don't act like you wouldn't enjoy it," Penguin scoffed. 

"I wouldn't, actually, believe it or not. You care about Gotham, and you're a capable businessman. I believe you can do good for this city by legal means and lead a normal life from now on. Maybe even manage to pull Nygma from his insanity."

"Ed is  not  insane," Oswald bristled. Even Jim's previous compliment didn't diminish the anger he felt on behalf of his partner. "He is a man of exceptional intelligence, which he's shown more times than I can count. Your inability to appreciate it is not an excuse to call him insane." 

Jim only quirked an eyebrow skeptically at Penguin’s agitated scolding. 

"Well, the jury won't need excuses if he commits another one of his crimes. I suggest you stop him if you don't want to visit your friend in Arkham for twenty minutes once a week."

Oswald swallowed his rage at the threat and forced a fake sweet smile. 

"Your advice is much appreciated, Jim. Though it's terribly bold of you to assume that I — or anyone for that matter — can control Riddler’s actions. He's like a force of nature: does what he wants and how he wants. You just have to roll with it," he finished with a smug smirk and a shrug. 

He noticed Jim frowning behind and above Oswald's shoulder. Penguin turned his head and saw his ostentatious boyfriend approaching, beaming proudly and puffing his chest. Probably heard Oswald’s flattering depiction of him. Damn it, his already inflated ego and smugness are gonna be off the charts for weeks now.

"What he said," Riddler confirmed with a cocky grin and passed Oswald champagne flute, clinking his own with it on the way. He stood next to Oswald once again, their shoulders brushed slightly. 

"Here's a riddle for you, Jimbo! Kings and queens may cling to power, and the jester has his call. But as you may soon discover, the common one outranks them all. What am I?" Riddler asked with his insufferable smirk that Oswald ached to kiss from his lips. 

Jim released a long sigh and shook his head.

"An ace?" he asked after a minute, doubt and confusion evident on his face. Oswald huffed, slightly irritated: he couldn't figure it out so quickly. 

"Precisely," Riddler tipped his hat and tugged aside a lapel of his checkered coat to demonstrate his Ace of Diamonds card with a green swirling question mark in the middle, sticking out from the breast pocket of his jacket. Thankfully, he restrained from further veiled threats and only sipped his champagne, still smirking condescendingly at Jim. 

Commissioner grimaced, probably mentally preparing for crazy games Riddler threatened to conduct in the future and already regretting his part in providing him with the freedom to roam the city. Jim was going to say something more but was cut off by Harvey Bullock coming closer and with a broad gesture wrapping one arm around his shoulders. The detective was clearly drunk, although that seemed to be his natural condition. 

"Hey, Jimbo. Need help dealing with these two wackos?" he offered, gulping something from his own flask and not even bothering to lower his voice. 

Oswald felt Riddler’s body tense like he was ready to shoot the rude detective on the spot. That would be most unwelcome. Oswald pressed his shoulder an inch closer to Ed's, silently imploring him to stay calm. That worked, and he heard his partner exhale to release his anger without rash actions. Oswald relished the way he and Ed could communicate without saying a word, making a proper touch, or even looking at each other. It reminded him just how deep their connection and mutual understanding developed. 

"Detective Bullock, charming as always," Oswald grinned, voice thick with sarcasm. 

"Penguin," Bullock mirrored his fake grin. "Managed to whine your way out of prison, did you? Well, it's not for long. Bet you won't last a month without getting dirty; I know your type." 

Oswald scowled at him and was about to retort when Riddler chimed in suddenly.

"Congratulations on your capture of the Scarecrow, detective," Ed’s sarcasm matched Oswald's. Bullock sneered at him, removing his hand from Jim's shoulders and gulping his brew again. "Heard you got hit by his fear toxin in the process, I wonder what blood-chilling nightmare it made you see." 

The detective cringed, and Riddler seemed to be pleased with that reaction as he continued smugly. "Hmm, let me guess: you held a bottle of your favorite cheap booze and drank, but it turned into water as soon as it touched your tongue. Sounds about right?"

"No, Nygma. I saw your ugly ass dressed in fishnets and high heels, doing a lap dance for Penguin and calling him 'daddy-bird'. Still can’t close my eyes at night," Bullock snarled back. 

Oswald felt hot under the collar despite the cold air. Partly from fury at Bullock for calling Edward’s exquisite buttocks ugly but mostly from imagining the vision detective described. Riddler’s outrageously long legs made even longer with high heels, tight stockings accentuating his slim thighs, and black fishnet dividing his silky light skin into squares that would leave delightful marks when he removed them... Oswald prayed his concealer was sufficient for hiding his, no doubt, intense blush. 

After a moment, another realization struck him, and Penguin bit the inside of his cheek to focus and suppress the urge to slaughter both policemen, who were probably conjuring similar visions to his own. How dare they imagine his  Edward in such a desirable intimate way?! It was exclusively Oswald's privilege to see Riddler in a sensual manner and describe such obscene pictures. Nobody else's! Even if it was only imagination. He took a deep breath and willed his hands to not withdraw his gun, not plunge his knife into Bullock's neck, and not crush the fragile glass with champagne in his grasp. 

Ed, for his part, didn't seem even a bit phased, but rather amused. His grin became more predatory as he purred, "Well, well, detective, how kinky of you. I'm somewhat impressed, your brain isn't completely worthless after all! Crane was on to something there; remind me to fear gas you again if I need some delicious fresh fantasies," Riddler finished with a lewd wink and made a show of licking his lips in an obscenely vulgar way. 

Now Oswald's blush was definitely visible, no amount of makeup would cover the heat he felt in his cheeks. He focused on steadying his breathing and tried to find a distraction from his lascivious thoughts, downing half of his champagne in one gulp. For the first time during the ceremony, Penguin was grateful for the lack of heating. His long black coat and jacket were perfect for hiding any physical consequences Oswald's wild imagination and Edward's suggestive gestures might have provoked. 

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in exasperation. Bullock's self-satisfied grin transformed into a disgusted grimace. 

"You’re sick, Nygma. Why they kept you from Arkham, I have no clue.”

Ed didn't even bat an eye, and his toothy grin only widened. "Being clueless is hardly a new feeling for you, is it, Harvey?" 

"I swear to God I'll-..." 

But nobody learned what Bullock wanted to threaten Riddler with because Jim placatingly raised his hands and cut him off, probably sensing that this conversation could go sideways at any moment. 

"Alright, that's enough!" Jim used his commanding voice. "You wanted to talk, Harv?" 

"Yes, as far away from these two as possible," he scowled at still smirking Riddler and desperately trying to stay nonchalant Penguin. 

Jim sighed and gave a small smile. "Okay. Oswald, Ed, have a good day. And do stay out of trouble, or I'll have to come and arrest you myself." 

"I would expect no less. See you around, Jim," Oswald said with a curt smile. 

Ed didn't even spare a nod, and they watched two policemen go up the stairs to have a more private chat on the balcony overlooking the hall. 

"What's black and white and red all over?" Riddler asked in a quiet deep voice, smirking impishly. 

Oswald was finally coming down from his salacious fantasies and quickly remembered the right answer. "Um, newspaper?" he asked, confused. 

"Nope," Ed giddily accentuated the 'p' and leaned closer to murmur, "It's my deliciously blushing Penguin." 

Oswald groaned in frustration. Apparently, he did fail to hide his reactions completely. 

"It's your fault, Edward! You did that on purpose!" 

"Well, I am a force of nature, so you'll just have to roll with it," Ed shrugged and sipped his champagne with feigned nonchalance. 

"I'm not gonna hear the end of this any time soon, am I?" Oswald shook his head. 

"Never," Riddler promised, grinning madly. 

"You're incorrigible, you know that?" 

"Mmhmm, so I've heard," Ed smugly nodded. "So, how about we get out of here and fulfill Bullock's kinky fantasies in reality? This place is dull." 

Oswald gaped at his lover in disbelief for a few moments before schooling his expression, not even hoping that his blush was hidden anymore. 

"Alright... I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised by your willingness to crossdress, mister 'I dressed up as a polish woman to pull Martin's location from Zsasz even though it was absolutely unnecessary', " Oswald teased his cocky boyfriend. 

Ed rolled his eyes with a sheepish smile. "I told you, it was more fun that way!" 

"Fun," Oswald chuckled. "Well then, allow me to take you to my private room at the Iceberg Lounge, where you can show exactly how much fun you have striding on high heels. And I'll see if it's fun to pull fishnets from you without the use of my hands." 

Riddler’s dark eyes lit up with desire, and he swallowed. "Something tells me you already have a way of getting the apparel?"

"Remember the pole dancers show I hosted last week? My manager might've bought a few extra outfits just in case they needed spares... They didn't," he winked.

"So resourceful," Ed praised as they moved towards the exit. 

It was all Oswald could do to not grab his beautiful man and kiss him senseless right there and then. Good thing that his club is not too far. 

Chapter Text

Riddler was on his way home. He was exhausted after his latest escapades with the GCPD this evening. Another failed attempt to rob the reopened Gotham Art Gallery, his third failed attempt, to be exact. Central City graciously provided a few of its rarest exhibits to lift the spirits of the resurging Gotham's citizens. Naturally, Riddler wanted a few for himself, namely a golden snake with emerald encrusted scales. He devised a plan, a great plan actually, but it backfired awfully and resulted in him running away from the police through the sewers. Like a  rat . Like a  common criminal . It made him sick. And not only because of the nauseating stench he thought he could still smell even after a long, scalding shower he took in his hideout. 

Ed needed his Penguin. They haven't seen each other in nearly a week, and Edward's insatiable hunger for his precious boyfriend was getting more and more unbearable. That's why despite his aching muscles, he forced himself to drive from his hideout to the mansion. Hopefully, Oswald's business is going better, and Ed could at least be happy for his partner, feel less depressed about his own repeated failures. 

Although after almost two months since their official pardon, Penguin's empire was still in shambles. Or in Blackgate Penitentiary, more precisely. Jim Gordon seemed to be taking his role as the Commissioner a tad too seriously. He had the continued military support for now and didn't shy away from using it to apprehend numerous criminals of various calibers. Courts were working tirelessly, sentencing mobsters, thugs, thieves, crooks, and even notorious villains. Among the latest significant victims of law enforcement were Mr. Freeze and Firefly. Both sent to Arkham Asylum. 

Ed opened the front door of the Van Dahl mansion with his key and proceeded to the living room. At this hour, Oswald is either there or in his study. Or in the kitchen, stress eating some late snacks. His Penguin is a nocturnal bird: can work all night and sleep past afternoon on the rare occasions he allows such a waste of time. 

But all deductions aside, Ed could simply follow the sounds of nervous muttering and uneven pacing. Seems like his partner doesn't have any good news on his part either. Edward walked into the living room just at the moment when his furious feathered friend hurled his whiskey glass into the fireplace. Shards scattered around with a loud crash, and the fire roared from the alcohol it consumed. Penguin's screech of rage joined the discord, and Ed just stood there frozen, not sure what to make of it all. When Oswald's lungs ran out of air, the man remained in his position for a few seconds, watching the dancing flames, his chest heaved from overbearing fury boiling inside. Fascinating sight. But not good for Oswald's health, so Ed had to stop it. 

"Ozzie?" he called carefully but still startled his boyfriend. 

Oswald sharply turned to look at the intruder; at seeing Ed, his expression softened but only just a little. His monocle reflected the firelight menacingly. Usually, it gave Oswald a more refined and aristocratic image, but now it resembled a demon's eye burning with primal wrath. 

"That bitch snitched on me to Gordon! The very nerve of that crone!" he cried out, turning away and sharply limping toward the liquor cabinet. 

"Mayor Chang?" Ed took a guess and apparently was correct if Oswald's swearing under the breath was any indication. 

That woman was almost as much a nuisance for Penguin as Gordon himself. She was constantly blocking his way further while the Commissioner was stepping on his heels. That, coupled with the complete chaos and anarchy in the hopelessly ruined underworld, and Ed got himself another one of Oswald's temper tantrums which were happening with alarming frequency lately. 

Oswald reached his poison and didn't bother pouring the whiskey in glass anymore, taking a swig from the bottle instead. That's not good at all. Oswald doesn't appear to be drunk right now, but he will be very soon if he keeps going like that. Ed smoothly moved behind him and snatched the bottle from his boyfriend's shaking hands. 

"Ed, give it back! I need it, I really do!" Oswald demanded, and Ed could tell that he was barely restraining himself from physically wrestling his 'medicine' back. 

"Oswald. Ozzie. Look at me," Ed waited until two icicles of different colors bore into him with so much intensity that it almost punched his breath away. Surely, Oswald would never hurt him, and Ed knew that, but being the sole focal point of so violently enraged Penguin was unnerving, to say the least. Edward swallowed and gave his angry bird a small placating smile, hiding the bottle behind his back. "What you need is to talk to me, calmly. Tell me what happened. We can settle this together." 

Penguin's nostrils flared angrily, and for a second there Ed was honestly a little bit apprehensive. But then Oswald sighed deeply, releasing a part of his bottled-up fury and looked at him more soberly. 

"There's nothing to settle, Edward," he turned around to resume his nervous pacing, grabbing another bottle on the way, cognac this time. "Today, the GCPD busted another one of my storages. I lost millions worth of money, and another dozen of my men got locked away. Only because our crooked hag of a mayor would rather work with that worthless prick Giovanni's gang than with me," he brandished the bottle and for a second Ed thought it'd follow the glass to feed the flames, but Oswald only clutched it tighter, knuckles white from the strain, and groaned in frustration. 

"And of course Gordon is too stupid to see what's happening right in front of him. Like a thoughtless toddler, he's running around breaking things instead of letting me bring everything to order. AGAIN!" he was screaming by the end of his fiery monolog. 

Penguin angrily tore out the cork with a loud pop and took a few gulps of cognac, not even wincing as he drank heavy alcohol like water. Ed hurried to snatch this bottle from him as well and held it together with the almost empty whiskey. Oswald balled his now bare hands, furiously glaring at Edward. 

"Would you stop that?!" he screeched and stormed past Ed to his cabinet, no doubt aiming to grab another strong beverage. 

Ed placed two snatched bottles on the coffee table and caught up with Oswald in a few strides, closing his long arms around his fuming bird just in time before he could reach another drink, vodka, apparently. Riddler restrained him and pressed Penguin's back flush close to his chest. 

"Ed, what the HELL?!" he screeched and thrashed in Riddler's firm embrace like a madman struggling with the straightjacket. "Get off me!" 

"Shh, my little bird, calm down," he murmured and gently kissed Oswald's temple. Ed was too starved to get deterred by Penguin's harsh words right now. Besides, he understood the reason for them, how his distress at repeated failures piled up and fogged his rational thinking with pure wrath. Riddler could relate to that.

It was answered with a guttural growl and more hectic writhing Ed could barely hold against. If he were anybody else, he would've been knocked down, severely beaten and dead already or wishing he was dead, Edward was sure of it. But being Penguin's loved one had its privileges even when his vision was hazed with fury. 

"I'm not letting you go, Ozzie. I've got you," he whispered into ear reddened by the boiling blood. Oswald muttered something incoherent and unsuccessfully tried to dislodge Riddler's unrelenting arms. 

Ed didn't give up, only tightened his embrace and nuzzled in the spiky feathery hair, placing a long kiss on top of the raven-black head. Oswald had no choice but to stop thrashing so fiercely to avoid headbutting Ed in the face. He was still trembling with mind-numbing fury, but instead of fighting Edward, he leaned closer to his chest and clung to Ed's arms holding Penguin in the firm lock, trying to swallow his rage. Ed rocked them both slightly from side to side, almost swaying in place, setting a steady rhythm to the movements. 

It took Penguin a few minutes to finally exhale a deep breath and ease a little in Edward's embrace. Ed weakened his grasp, soothingly stroking his boyfriend's upper arms and rubbing his nose in the soft feathers, messing them up even more. Slowly Oswald slumped in his arms, his breathing evened and tense muscles relaxed. 

"... 'm sorry, Eddie," he sighed, resting his head on Ed's shoulder, baring his jawline and neck to the soft kisses Edward was eager to provide. 

Riddler relished at how much power he had over his beloved Penguin: a few tender touches with soothing words and this wild bird ready to murder turned into a cuddly mess, pliant and soft in his hands.

"It's alright, my sweetest birdie, I understand," Ed reassured between presses of his lips to the warm skin deliciously smelling of flowery soap and expensive alcohol. 

Oswald slowly turned around in Edward's arms to look at him. It was nothing like that glare of two searing icicles. His gaze now was warm and loving but also very tired. For the hundredth time, Ed admired the thin circle of bright sky-blue iris around the void-black dilated pupil of his boyfriend's damaged eye behind the monocle, and translucent sea-green of the good one. 

When Oswald's eye had finally gotten used to the light once more, they discovered that besides the monocle, Oswald would have to wear a contact lens. It'll enhance his extremely feeble sight and dim the light a bit: permanently dilated pupil still made him too sensitive to even natural daylight otherwise. It wasn't painful like before, according to Oswald, but very discomforting and distracting. The darkened edges and smooth surface of the contact lens made his eye seem glassy and almost fake. Still, together with the monocle, it allowed him to see and even aim a gun nearly as good as he used to, at a shorter distance. Ed couldn't have asked for a better outcome, and Oswald seemed to agree on that. 

"I missed you," Oswald murmured, cupping Ed's face and stroking it with his thumb gently. "How are you doing? Was your day better than mine, at least?" 

Ed huffed. "Did your day include narrowly escaping the police through the sewers, empty-handed?" 

"Those bastards!" Penguin hissed, becoming agitated again. That was the opposite of what Ed wanted. 

"It's fine; you don't have to worry. I ran away; they never saw my face, nothing to pin on me. Probably the riddle was too simple; I'll think of a better one and get there some other time. Now, I suggest we forget about work for a while. Better show me how much you missed me," Ed whispered, leaning for the kiss. Oswald nodded, and their lips met, both men finding salvation and release from hardships of their business and other illegal activities. 

Edward held his precious lover close, leisurely ravishing his mouth, savoring his sweetness mixed with rich bitterness of the alcohol. Oswald's fingers threaded through his hair, his whole body pressed snuggly against Edward's, melting in his embrace. Soon enough, Ed felt his adorable boyfriend smile into the kiss, all tension in his body gone. Seems like the most significant mission of Riddler's day was successful: Penguin's temper tamed and flared nerves soothed, his bird turned perfectly calm and soft. Now he just needs to keep his boyfriend from getting too worked up again. Easy as pie. 

"They're always ready for a fight, to show which one of two is bright. All dressed in formal black and white, they fate of kings in turns decide. Who are they?" Ed murmured after they stopped kissing and just looked into each other's eyes lovingly.

"No, don't give up, Ozzie," he insisted when he saw his boyfriend's impatient resigned frown. "Think."

"Hmm… Chess pieces?" Oswald guessed after a while. 

"Correct, my clever Penguin," Riddler praised, stroking feathery hair like petting a soft bird insistently pushing into his hand. "Allow me to challenge you to a game." 

"How unfair, taking advantage of your opponent's drunken mind," Oswald teased with a sly smirk. 

"Come on, you're not that drunk, you solved my riddle," Ed eyed his still impishly smiling boyfriend. "Ooh, I see it now. You just want me to make you tea, don't you, you tricky bird?" 

Oswald's cheeks covered with a delightfully pink blush, and his smile turned sheepish. "Some cookies would be nice as well. I know it's late for a snack, but-.." 

Ed silenced him with a kiss, smooth lips too alluring to resist. 

"Say no more, Mr. Penguin, tea with cookies coming rrright up," he purred giddily and released his boyfriend after one more peck on the sweet lips. His long legs swiftly carried him to the kitchen. 

Ed was genuinely happy that Oswald had a good appetite. Especially since after a few months of half-hunger, he tended to stress eat rather than stress starve as he used to do before the war. It already had wonderful effects on Penguin: his unhealthily skinny body gained a few much-needed pounds, skin color improved, hair thickened, and energy increased. Edward wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was secretly excited about the possibility of Oswald gaining more weight someday. Oh, how heavenly it would be to melt in an embrace of his more plump bird, kiss full pink cheeks, rest his head on the chubby belly, squeeze soft pudgy buttocks!... The mere thought could make his mind go blank from lustful images. Of course, it goes without saying that Ed loves his Penguin in all shapes and sizes, but no force would compel him to stop baking sweet treats for his boyfriend occasionally. If nothing else, Oswald's delighted smile and eyes shining with happiness were more than worth it. 

A few minutes later, they were sitting opposite each other, with the chessboard, steaming teacups, and a jar of ginger nut biscuits on a small table between them. 

The start of their game was pretty standard; nobody was too in the lead yet. Sometimes Ed's sharp memory allowed him to perform one of the perfect openings he knew by heart and take advantage, but it didn't necessarily mean he would win. Oswald tends to shine in the endgame stage in all his strategic glory. He seems always to know what pieces he can sacrifice to reach the goal, and he doesn't hesitate losing everything to gain victory. He's also a master of unpredictable strategies; even Ed can't always be prepared for his sudden moves with seemingly no logical explanation. They don't go easy on each other, thus making their games very challenging and never boring.

"It's a goddamn stalemate," Penguin muttered and sipped his tea while Ed was considering his next move. A minute ago, Oswald moved his black knight, but it didn't seem like part of a strategy. Still, can't be too careful against him, so Ed took his time trying to decipher his opponent's plan if there was one.

"What? We barely started, Oswald. No way you can see the game that far ahead." 

"Not our game. I mean that whole Jim Gordon, Mayor Chang, and Giovanni situation," he sighed. "Every move I have left seems to lead to nothing; we're all stuck in this pointless dance. I try to find a way to gather forces, bring order to the chaos, stop this anarchy, unlike that greedy cretin Giovanni, who has no ambitions, no vision, and no honor. Pretends to be a new face of Italian mafia in Gotham, but Don Falcone wouldn't stoop so low as to share the same air with that pathetic prick," Penguin scrunched his nose with distaste. He didn't seem to get too agitated; the man only shared his frustration, so Ed didn't disturb his monologue. 

"Giovanni doesn't even have any real power, only a few connections, and a small crew. He doesn't have any aspirations, entirely content with feasting on the leftovers of my empire together with our worthless Mayor; both idiots fiddling while Rome burns," he angrily bit off a piece of his biscuit and swallowed it with another sip of tea. 

"But no, our brave holy protector decides to keep putting up roadblocks in my way," Oswald continued. "Unlike them, I'm a threat to his beloved law because I have ambitions and means to achieve them. Both Mayor and  Giovanni will become yesterday's news soon enough, and Jim knows it's easier just to let them be annoying pawns in my way for now. But why can't he see the bigger picture, Ed?" Oswald lamented and put the last piece of the biscuit in his mouth, drowning it with tea. 

"'Cause he's a dimwit," Ed answered without even thinking. Penguin snorted and shook his head. "I'm sure he'll make a mistake soon, Oswald. He always does." 

Ed had half a mind to suggest killing Gordon again. But the first dozen times he did it, Oswald just rebuked all his reasoning. As much as Riddler hated it, his partner still had a soft spot for the Commissioner, even if Penguin will never admit it out loud. And Ed had to agree that getting rid of Jim wouldn't solve the problem. At least they knew what to expect from him. Who knows what another self-righteous prick would do in his place. 

"That's the point. Jim doesn't need to do anything now. I'm supposed to make the next move, but I've run out of ways to get my throne back without ending up in Blackgate," he released a frustrated sigh. "I thought the pardon would allow me to bring everything back on track, operate in plain sight as I used to. But being pardoned is miles away from being trusted. One move separates me from prison at all times lately. I'm being under suspicion on default, and I can't even gather a crew that doesn't get arrested after a week."

Ed covered Oswald's hand with his and looked him in the eye. 

"Oswald, you're the best strategist and one of the smartest people I know, you'll find a way to get back on top. I believe in you," he said with full conviction and was glad to see Oswald nodding with a grateful smile. 

With how much Oswald was distracted, Ed doubted he was executing some convoluted tactics. Therefore, he decided to stop trying to read too much into it and moved one of his white pawns, just positioning with no specific plan behind it.

After a short minute of silent mulling, Oswald moved his other knight to capture one of Edward's pawns in the middle of the board, leaving his own queen unprotected in the process. Did he just give up his queen for a pawn? On purpose or accidentally? This sloppiness was unusual for the ever-cautious Penguin. But this can't be an actual elaborate strategy, right? Or perhaps there's a different reason, Ed thought as he glanced at Oswald. His boyfriend wasn't even looking at the board, fidgeting with his teacup, too lost in thought.

"Darling, do pay attention to the game sometimes. You just lost your queen," Ed announced smugly and made the obvious move to capitalize on his opponent's mistake: he captured Penguin's black queen with his bishop.

"I can live with that, Eddie," Oswald chuckled and sipped his tea.

To Edward's surprise, his partner didn't resign right after that mistake. Their battle on the chessboard continued as if nothing happened; pieces moved and were removed from the board. Ed was predictably leading, but then somehow, Oswald took control of the game-flow and started pressing the white king into a corner. It was over for Ed too suddenly. Before he could even grasp how it all happened, he had to resign. There were no moves to make no matter how many strong pieces he had left.

"How is that possible?" Ed whispered, astonished. 

"Aww, don't be sad, Eddie. It was a particularly risky strategy on my part; some could even say stupid," Penguin had a smug smile playing on his lips. It looked good on him, relishing in victory.

"It's not stupid if it works. And why would I be sad if have such a brilliant boyfriend?" Oswald preened under the compliment. "So it wasn't accidental after all? Did you actually sacrifice your queen for a pawn on purpose back then?" Riddler asked, still stunned at the unexpected turn of events. Oswald nodded with self-satisfaction. "But why? There was no reason to lose the strongest piece for nothing. It gave you no advantage even in the long run." 

"But it did, just not a material one. True, without my queen, I had no choice but to let you control the field for a while, use other pieces' strengths to the fullest, and be extra careful. But that move gave me the one critical advantage: psychological. My seeming sloppiness led you to believe I got distracted and made a mistake. This resulted in you underestimating my chances and missing a few key moves later on," he explained as he placed chess pieces back on their starting positions. "I gave up a tactical superiority to gain a strategical one."

"My cunning Penguin," Ed praised and moved to sit next to Oswald on the couch, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "With ingenious strategies such as these, I don't doubt you'll overthrow Gordon soon enough."

"Oh, Edward. If only sacrifices in life were that easy," Oswald shook his head. There was something he wasn't telling, Ed could feel it. He's gotten very good at deciphering his boyfriend's emotions. 

"Do you have something on your mind? Some idea, a plan?" His partner hesitated, then meekly shook his head, averting his gaze. "Tell me what you're thinking, Oswald," with his finger gently hooked under his boyfriend's chin Ed tilted Penguin's head, prompting him to keep eye contact. 

Oswald rolled his eyes slightly and sighed. "I do have an idea, Ed. And it might actually work. But I don't like it and you won't either. So, no point in even discussing it." 

"I'll decide what I like, Ozzie," he took his hand and squeezed it gently. 

After another sigh, Oswald gave up. "Very well, you asked for it. I was thinking. If Commissioner insists on gathering all criminals in one building, then what better place would there be to make a base of operations? All my forces are already collected; I just need to claim them." 

"Are you suggesting getting easy access into Blackgate Penitentiary? Do you want to bribe your way in? Or replace the Warden? Or work as a guard? Or through some agent who you'd send back and forth?" Ed's brain jumped to action, supplying and discarding dozens of ideas per second. 

"I don't think becoming a warden or a guard is possible for any of us. Especially not with Jim as Commissioner. And I won't put that much trust into the hands of an employee. The only way for me into Blackgate is becoming an inmate." 

A sharp, heavy silence filled the room. It seemed like the time itself stopped in shock. All kinds of thoughts and emotions flew through Edward's mind. From  'He's gonna leave me'  to  'He's gonna die in there'  and  'I can't let him do that'.  His first instinct was to stop Oswald from even considering this idea, to hold him tight and never let go. Tie him up if need be. Chain him to a pipe if he absolutely has to. 

Thankfully, Riddler didn't call himself cold logician for nothing, so he swallowed his blinding panic and decided to think this through before doing or saying anything. He released the breath he was holding and adjusted his glasses. Oswald tiredly rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair; his back fell against the soft cushions of the couch. 

Ed took the time to process this concept and all it entails. Oswald would need to be imprisoned. He would need to not only survive other inmates but manage to take control of them. Even though Ed was confident of his partner's abilities and determination, he couldn't help but worry. And most importantly, they would have to become separated for who knows how long. Oswald was right: Ed didn't like that idea at all. 

Riddler realized he was sitting completely motionless for a while now only when he felt a warm hand on his thigh. 

"I told you won't like that idea." Did Oswald learn to read thoughts, or was everything written on Edward's face? Both, perhaps. "I didn't like it the moment it came to me a few weeks ago. But you don't have to worry, Ed. I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you alone, and I don't care what I need to give up to keep us together. It's worth it anyway." 

Edward wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's warm frame and held him close, listening to their steady heartbeats and the soft crackling of the fire. Those words meant the world to him. Ed knew Oswald was completely sincere in claiming that he would sacrifice anything for them. He loved him that much, and Ed believed it because he felt very much the same. 

However, love was not only a sacrifice. It was an unconditional acceptance and support. Yes, Ed could ask his partner not to leave him, to bury that idea, and he would gladly oblige. But in that case, Oswald would have to betray himself, give up being the unstoppable Penguin Ed fell in love with, forfeit his place as the ruthless King of Gotham he was born to be. That wouldn't do at all. 

They shifted back far enough to look at each other's faces. 

"It's gonna be alright, Eddie," Ed could drown in Oswald's eyes so full of love. "I'll find another way. Maybe even leave Gotham, why not? We could start over in some other place. Star City, perhaps, or Blüdhaven. I heard Central City has some heavily guarded museums you might find intriguing, and businesses prosper there." 

"No, Oswald," Riddler shook his head and smiled at Oswald's puzzled expression. "We didn't fight for this dump only to flee from it five months later. Gotham is our city. And I refuse to admit that we lost it to Jim Gordon, of all people. I don't like your idea, but it might be the only chance to win, the daring move nobody expects even from you. Just like you did today, sacrifice your queen," he gestured at himself, "to achieve victory, right?" At least it seemed like a fitting metaphor.

Oswald was silent for a few moments but then frowned. "What are you talking about?" he gasped in baffled outrage. "The queen is just a strong pawn for me, merely another tool to gain an advantage, an insignificant figure on the board. Expendable and replaceable. You are nothing like that. You are not a piece in my game, I can't ever sacrifice you. I can't lose you, Edward. Never again," his voice broke on those last words; there were unshed tears in his eyes. "So no, I can't afford to walk this path." 

Ed was touched by those words deeply. He was so loved and treasured so that even the mighty Penguin found him worth giving up his throne for. But if Edward didn't bind him, he wouldn't stop, he would fight and win. Ed never wanted to restrain his partner's schemes, that's Penguin's enemies' job. He put both his hands on the sides of Oswald's face so abruptly that he startled the man slightly. 

"Look at me, Oswald. Whatever happens, you are not going to lose me. Remember what you said about our love the day we decided to give it a chance?" 

Penguin nodded slowly. "Yes, I said we'll turn our love into strength. That nothing would ever stand between us," realization started to dawn on him. 

"That's right. Now, how do you expect some walls and distance to break us apart when even we couldn't do it ourselves?" Ed asked with a timid smile; Penguin huffed a rueful chuckle in response. Their hands were intertwined between them now. "I refuse to be a dead weight that would drag you away from your ambitions. I won't let our relationship become your weakness, Oswald."

"Are you saying I should do it?" Oswald breathed in disbelief. 

"I'm saying that asking you not to would be the same as asking you not to be the Penguin, to stop being yourself. I thank you for your sacrifice, but I refuse to accept it. I would never do that to you as I'm sure you wouldn't ask me to stop being the Riddler and make me give up that part of me." 

Oswald nodded, "Of course, I would never. We are what we are, right?" his smile was almost sad. 

"Yes. And what we are is two genius criminal masterminds. We agreed to take what we want from who we want. So, do you want to take back our city from the Commissioner?" he asked with a conspiratorial smile. 

"You know the answer, Riddler," he huffed. "But you do realize that we'll have to be separated for quite some time, right? It would require everything in my power to survive and begin to thrive in Blackgate. It might take years before I'll be able to come and go as I please." 

Edward sighed deeply. "Yes, I know that, Ozzie. It won't be easy, that's for sure. But we knew what we were signing up for, didn't we? I also was thirteen seconds away from being caught today. Neither of us is a housewife type," he huffed. "I believe we're strong enough to handle it. And I sincerely hope you won't replace me with some other criminal in there," he joked but suddenly realized that he was, in fact, terrified by the thought. 

"Well, I heard penguins mate for life," Oswald winked playfully. 

"Actually, that's a common misconception. While most of the species do indeed tend to stay monogamous, Emperor penguins usually choose a different mate each season. About eighty-one percent of King penguins act similarly," Ed rattled and glanced at Oswald, swallowing nervously. The man was listening with furrowed brows and mouth slightly agape. Ed was too lost in his anxiety to stop his rapidly spilled trivia. 

"Infidelity is also commonplace for nearly a third of female Humboldt penguins. And, females of Adélie penguins have been pushed into prostitution due to the shortage of stones to build the nests that males give them for mating, an-" 

"Ed?!" Oswald's terrified squawk cut off his rambling, and Edward noticed the utterly scandalized expression of his lover. "What exactly are you trying to say here?" he demanded with an appalled stare. 

Oops. Ed didn't realize the implications behind his facts considering the context, too lost in his mind-numbing anxiety. 

"I don't want you to leave me for someone else," Ed hated how weak, needy, and helpless he sounded. But Oswald saw him even worse, and he's still here. "I'm sorry Oswald, I know how selfish it is but I can't even bear the thought of you with another person, I'd rather-..." his desperate rambling was stopped by Oswald's lips pressed firmly against his own. The kiss didn't only shut him up but also cleared some of the red haze clouding his vision at the mere thought of his beloved Penguin with someone else. 

Oswald pulled back and gently cupped Ed's face from both sides. "How dare you presume that you can ever be replaced with someone else?" he chastised, looking him straight in the eyes and probably not even realizing how much his words meant for Ed. "Edward, you are my one true love, the only one I ever loved and ever will. There can never be anyone else; it's as much a fact as my name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. I suggest you drop that train of thought right now and never return to it, alright? No point in wasting your brilliant mind on such absurdly futile matters, trust me." 

The heavenly warmth spreading in his chest effectively melted away those terrifying thoughts and doubts. Edward couldn't help but once again reach for the sweet lips of the man he loved more than he thought possible. 

"Alright. I trust you, Ozzie," he murmured before one last peck on the lips. Riddler smiled and felt like himself again. "Well, then. Tell me exactly what you had in mind. You said you've had that idea for weeks. And didn't even mention it to me…" he mockingly pouted. 

"Oh, don't be a baby. It gnawed at me all the time, and I didn't want it to plague your thoughts as well. I was actively trying to avoid thinking about it but apparently failed. Even transformed that concept into a chess strategy that you've had the pleasure to witness," he added with pride. 

"And it worked beautifully. If you could play me, Gordon doesn't stand a chance," he winked. 

"That is very true, my dear friend. To be honest, since I tried my best to restrain myself from even thinking about it, I didn't plan any specific actions. In general, just like in chess, I had the idea to sacrifice my position and reputation as a free reformed man. And also my truce with Jim. This metaphorical queen for something that gets me into Blackgate. Gordon would think I'm just a common criminal after all and send me to rot with them. I was hoping to get some assistance from the Riddler for that part," Ed readily nodded; he would do anything for his bird.  

"Jim won't suspect a thing, but I'll be able to rise to power inside Blackgate, surrounded by my underlings and with absolutely no suspicion from the GCPD. Naturally, I will take over the guards in Blackgate as well, turn it into my personal fortress. And operate further from there." 

Oswald was explaining his vision with animated inspiration, so full of blazing passion that it made Ed's own heart beat faster. 

"Commissioner won't see what hit him until it's too late. And after I'm a free man once more, I'll have an unbreakable empire in my grasp. Not a short-term rise to power only to fall harder, but a stable system that can sustain and protect itself without me for at least a year in case of emergency."

Ed was speechless for a few moments as he let it sink in. "Wow. Your devious mind never fails to amaze me, my wicked avian friend," Penguin preened a bit at that. "Let's start with step one. What do you want me to do?" 

"Alright. Do you remember what you did to Gordon when he investigated Kristen Kringle's disappearance?" Ed nodded; he would never forget his first steps on the way to becoming the Riddler. "I want you to do something similar to me this time." 

"You want me to frame you for a murder?" Even saying that out loud seemed preposterous. 

"Yes. And after today, I know just the right pawn to remove from our game." 

Mayor Chang. She was a relatively small player but immensely irritating with her temporary power in the Office. Seems like her recent snitching on Penguin was the last straw. 

"And you want it to look like a real crime with a tiny slip so that Gordon wouldn't suspect there's more behind it." Surely, he can't just kill her openly; Jim is perfectly aware Penguin is not that sloppy or that insane. 

"Exactly," Oswald nodded. "I don't need him breathing down my neck and messing up my play inside the prison walls. He must stop perceiving me as a threat. My Pax Penguina was perfect, and it would've kept prospering if I didn't draw that much attention to my persona. No, if I want to build an unbreakable system, I need to get out of the spotlight, act from the shadows, control everything with an invisible hand…" he trailed off and sighed. "But that's for the future. For now, I need to be sentenced and sent to Blackgate Penitentiary. Not to Arkham, so the crime must be committed in a sensible manner." 

"No umbrellas in throats and blown up kids, check." Oswald snorted, shaking his head. "Everyone knows you have more than enough money to buy your way out since those morons failed to keep their filthy mouths shut about our mostly recovered treasure," Riddler gritted his teeth but calmed down when he recalled Penguin's brutal punishment of those responsible. Or their massacre, to be precise. That was such a glorious sight to behold, Ed mused before continuing. "We should ensure your prosecution in an honest and open trial. Harvey Dent returned to Gotham two months ago. Gordon worked with him on several occasions and knows he's one of the few unbribable lawyers. It'll make the case seem more legit and explain why your wealth didn't help." 

"Good thinking," Oswald commended. "We need to make it look as believable as possible; lay all cards on the table, except those hidden in the sleeves." 

Riddler nodded, an outline of the plan already forming in his mind's eye. 

"And you want me to frame you so that you can prove your actual innocence when you're released legally or decide to leave," he reasoned, and Oswald nodded. "That's smart; you'll restore a part of your lost reputation, gain compassion in the public eye."

"Exactly so, my dear. The public's sympathy for a wrongfully accused innocent businessman could always come in handy. And it would stain the reputation of their impeccable Commissioner. A win-win outcome."

Riddler hummed thoughtfully. They were silent for a few long minutes. Ed absentmindedly traced lines on Oswald's palm, both men coming to terms with this hard decision that would change their lives drastically for the near future. Living apart from his beloved boyfriend will be hell for Ed, but for Oswald, it's gonna be even worse. He'll be sacrificing not only his freedom but also the love of people he gained anew over the last five months with his well-publicized help in the restoration of Gotham and overall playing on the 'good guys' side lately. Ed remembered tears of happiness in Oswald's eyes when he had just won the Mayor's Office in a clean election proving that people sincerely loved him. It was obviously important to Penguin. Was he honestly grasping the full extent of his sacrifice? 

"Oswald, I have to make sure you realize what else you'll be giving up," Ed said carefully, Oswald's attentive gaze on him. "All other factors aside, people will hate you for this. They're gonna be disappointed you wasted your second chance, and you'll lose their support. You're going to lose people's love and trust, maybe for good. Have you considered that? Are you one hundred percent certain you're prepared to give it up?" 

Penguin nodded readily, not even pondering his answer. "Yes, Ed, I've spent plenty of time to think and learn from my past mistakes. Most people don't value a good attitude. I've done so much for them, sacrificed everything for this city. And each time I thought I'd earned some honest gratitude and appreciation, I've been proven wrong," he frowned, reminiscing about old times. 

"I single-handedly stopped the mob wars and held the underworld in my iron grasp, something that neither Falcone or Maroni had managed to achieve. I prevented the chaos only to be hunted and thrown in Arkham for this city's salvation," he swallowed. 

"When I was the Mayor, I brought crime level to a historical minimal, made Gotham safer and better. And what did people do when I disappeared for a while? They didn't even think twice before reelecting that clown Aubrey James, who never cared about Gotham, was openly crooked, and lied under oath, granting a free pass to that monster Galavan," Penguin balled his fists at the mere mention of that cursed name. 

"And later, I broke my own record on lowering crime level with my licensing system. I saved so many civilian lives, cops' lives. But no, when shit hit the fan, they ran away to bow down before their God of hypocrisy Gordon," he spat out, fuming with anger. 

He's so hot when he's raging like that, Riddler murmured somewhere in the back of their mind. Ed willed him to shut up and focus on Oswald's words. 

"Same with the war. I provided peace and safety to people, gave them jobs and homes. But who cares about  that  when his holiness dangles a few promises he never intends to keep?" Oswald grumbled and shook his head as if trying to chase the unfortunate moments away. 

"So no, Edward, I don't crave people's love and support anymore, it's nothing but a tool to me now. A useful tool that I'll try to get, but I sure as hell won't lose my night's sleep if I fail," he huffed. "After all, I already hold the love of the only person who matters," Oswald smirked, reaching for Edward's lips, and he was more than happy to lean into the soft touches. 

"Shall we get to work?" Riddler asked after they eventually broke the kiss. 

He was eager to get started on the new schemes now that they had an actual coherent plan to devise. He didn't hesitate to put all his other projects on pause; working with Penguin always was more fun anyway. And he wasn't going to miss a single precious minute with his boyfriend, now that they were preparing for a long separation. 

Chapter Text

Riddler and Penguin spent the rest of the evening, the whole night, and the following day discussing general directions of each step of the plan up until Oswald's release. Mostly, they were thinking through the logistics of the first step: how to kill Mayor Chang and what evidence should be used to frame Penguin now and to clear his name years later. 

They took a short break only when Olga basically grabbed them both by the collars and dragged them to the dining room in the morning. And another one when she shooed them to take a shower before lunch. The woman was taking care of them like a particularly relentless mother hen. Shortly after dinner the next evening, they didn't even bother with the bedroom, falling asleep cuddled on the couch only to be saved again by Olga, who covered them with a blanket and added more wood to the fireplace. God bless that grumpy maid. She also seemed to have warmed up to Ed over the months, even allowing to use her kitchen without a fuss whenever he wanted to prepare surprise treats for his beloved bird. 

They continued planning everything to the tiniest detail; nothing could go wrong. There were contingency plans for every step of the way, and a few backups if plans 'B' and 'C' would fail. Of course, precautions to be able to get Oswald out at any moment in case of emergency. With Riddler's obsession over specifics and Penguin's ingenious foresight, the plans were ready in two weeks. They got everything they needed in place in another one. All that was left now was to set everything in motion, let it play out, and act accordingly. They set a date after another week, thus granting Oswald time to get all his affairs in order and finish all the preparations. 

One week before the day X, they invited Martin and his parents over to the mansion for the weekend. They couldn't risk being seen with the boy in public, no need to compromise his safety. To compensate for the lack of a proper outdoors entertainment, Olga prepared delicious home-cooked ice-cream along with other exquisite treats everyone couldn't stop praising. Janice talked to Olga about Russian cuisine seemingly for hours; she was immensely impressed by the woman's skills.

Oswald and Ed were astonished to see how much the dog Edward had changed over the months. He was active, giddy, and clingy; stubby tail never stopped wagging as he did tricks on Martin's silent commands, even fetching a stick across the mansion's vast surrounding territory. When previously the bulldog seemed somewhat obese and always tired, now he was more muscular and lively. Some level of laziness still remained, though, which became apparent when the dog trotted to lay down on his ex-favorite spot next to the fireplace, not paying attention to anyone when his small legs got exhausted eventually. 

Shortly after the dinner, everyone — including Olga — gathered in the living room, and Oswald explained the general direction of his plan. These people were the only ones trusted enough to know the truth about Penguin's intentional journey to Blackgate. 

"Pizdets. Sovsem ebanulis' uzhe," Olga grumbled and tsked, shaking her head. Ed recognized only the first word, and it wasn't a polite one. 

"What was that, Olga?" Oswald asked, giving her a pointed look. 

"I say this plan crazy. But I stay watch house," she explained, undeterred by Oswald's skeptical gaze. 

"You're one of the very few people I can trust, Olga. I believe there's more you can do than just watch over the mansion if you're interested." 

She quirked an eyebrow at Oswald with doubt, but soon conceded and gave a short nod. 

Martin didn't understand how Oswald could be willing to get sentenced for years in prison and how Ed could allow him to go through with it. But he seemed to accept it and sincerely wished Oswald the best of luck with this project. They agreed to keep contact via their ciphered letters until Oswald would get his phone in there. It didn't make Martin any happier about his godfather's future, but he'll understand someday, hopefully. 

Adrian and Janice were both openly impressed by the Penguin's recklessness, claiming that not even Don Falcone made such daring moves during his age of ruling Gotham. They gave a few useful tips about the prison from their time there. Blackgate's general layout hasn't changed much since the reconstruction, so Adrian's input might prove helpful for Oswald. It's always nice to know where one can expect or set up an ambush.

They spent the rest of the evening chatting and playing board games. However, they didn't get very far as Martin was noticeably down after the news and asked to go to bed early. Oswald seemed devastated, and even Adrian's assurance that the boy will get over it by the morning after giving it a proper thought didn't make him feel better. He put on a brave face for others' sake, but all masks dropped as soon as Ed closed their bedroom door behind them. 

Oswald wrapped his arms around Edward's middle and succumbed to soft sobs, burying them in Ed's chest. Ed stroked his boyfriend's back soothingly, it hurt him to see Oswald so anxious and depressed, but he was glad to be there for him, to not let his love suffer through it alone. Hot bath they took together lulled them both, and soon Ed was drifting off to the steady breathing at the base of his neck. 

The next morning proved Adrian right as Martin greeted them with his usual cheerful smile; his eyes were glowing, and arms cradled his still half-sleeping bulldog. The boy giggled when Edward-dog licked his face, and Oswald finally breathed a sigh of relief. 

After breakfast, Penguin proudly presented their guests with his Iceberg Lounge. It was closed until the evening, so they had all the space to themselves and didn't jeopardize Martin's safety. Without people, this place seemed even bigger: cold lights reflecting on smooth surfaces created the illusion of being inside an actual iceberg, while comfy chairs, soft cushions on leather sofas, and warm lamps inside booths lived up to the name 'lounge'. This Iceberg Lounge didn't have a single centerpiece. Instead, the tables were arranged around specific points of interest: big stage with the dance floor, neon-illuminated bar, waterfall with penguin statues next to the wall, neatly tended green zone with north-themed flora. The second floor mostly consisted of semi-private booths, perfect for a more intimate setting or business deals.

Oswald proceeded to give a tour of his grand palace, while Ed decided to make use of the unoccupied piano on now dimly lit stage; it's been a while since he practiced. The last time he played this particular instrument was before the Iceberg Lounge opening night as a gift for Oswald, and, quite predictably, it ended in his sentimental boyfriend's tears of happiness. It brought a mellow smile to Edward's face every time he recalled it. 

He took a seat on the piano bench and traced his fingertips over the smooth curves and ivory keys of the instrument. Just like everything in Oswald's club, the piano was top quality and tuned to perfection: as soon as Ed's fingers gave a gentle press to the keys, the light pure melody poured out from it. Edward began playing 'A time for us'  from Romeo and Juliet. He didn't like the film at all, but the music was pleasant. Ed learned it for Oswald, for it always reminded the man of his mother's love for the tragically romantic story. 

He internally chuckled at how this song fit Oswald and him in some ways. From the very start, Ed was convinced it was fate that brought them together. They both found friendship and love in a place it shouldn't exist, both went through losses and tragedy, both had a near-death experience and now had to hide their feelings from others. But there will be time for them. They'll survive all the hardships, together even when separated. They shall have their happy ending, Edward will make sure of it, whatever it takes. 

His fingers skillfully elicited the liquid sounds from the piano, and Ed closed his eyes, lost in the lucid melody. So lost in fact, that it took him a minute to recognize the foreign sounds: muffled sobs definitely weren't a part of the composition. Riddler abruptly stopped and turned around to see Martin standing behind him and unsuccessfully trying to wipe away the stream of tears rolling from big brown eyes. His dog gave a small whine and nuzzled at his ankle, but the boy didn't pay attention. 

Oh no, now you've made Martin cry!

Great job, Ed, you ignorant fool!

"Martin? What happened?" Ed's voice quivered, and he rushed to the boy's help. But he didn't even stand up when he found himself in a firm embrace of Martin desperately clinging to him and muffling his frantic sobs in the crook of Ed's neck. 

"Shh, it's alright, my boy," Ed whispered, soothingly stroking the back of the distressed child clutching at his clothes as if afraid to fall if he let go. Riddler said it was alright, but he didn't even know what it was. 

Did the music upset Martin so much? The melody was surely melancholic but not outright depressing. Ed shouldn't be too surprised, he supposed. After all, most times when he played for Oswald ended in emotional tears and cozy cuddling afterward. However, this was different. Martin wasn't touched; he was genuinely devastated. And this hug was him looking for help, not affection. 

"Martin, will you share with me what made you so sad?" Ed murmured when the boy's sobs gradually subsided, and breathing became less erratic. 

After a moment of hesitation, Martin nodded into his shoulder, still not releasing his desperate hold. 

"I'll need you to let go first, alright? I'm with you, Martin. I'm not going anywhere," Ed gently prompted the boy to pull back. Martin nodded again, and after a long moment, his death grip weakened. "Come sit with me," Ed scooted on the bench to give the boy more space to sit. "You have pretty strong muscles going on there," he attempted to lighten the mood, but Martin didn't react. 

*Tell me what happened,* Ed asked in sign language after making sure Martin wiped most of the remaining tears veiling his vision and was composed enough for conversation. They sat face to face with legs spread over the bench. Edward-dog slumped next to the piano after realizing his owner's legs were too short to fully reach the floor and provide support for the cuddly animal. 

*I don't want Oswald to go to prison,* Martin signed with trembling hands. *He can die in there, and we'll never see him again.* More tears slid down the reddened cheeks. 

Oh, that's what got the poor boy so unsettled. Apparently, Martin was only putting on a brave face all morning but hadn't honestly come to peace with Oswald's impending arrest. More than anyone, Ed could sympathize with him on that matter.

*I know how you feel, Martin. I couldn't even wrap my head around that decision for days,* Ed sighed. Martin watched his hands with attention. *But we don't need to worry about Oswald. He's so much tougher than he looks, the unkillable bird will outlive us all,* he chuckled. *Penguin knows his limits. Thankfully, his enemies don't. They underestimate him, and he knows how to use it to his advantage.*

Martin mulled it over. He gave a vague nod, probably accepting Edward's logic. The boy knew firsthand how unbreakable Penguin really is. But then he shook his head and barely managed to sign through the sobs rocking his small body. 

*But you got pardoned, you're both free and happy together! Why is that not enough? I don't understand,* he sniffled, wiping flood of tears with his sleeve. Ed offered his pocket square, and Martin accepted it with a curt nod. 

*It is enough,* Ed signed. The boy frowned, even more confused now. *We could both live without danger, find honest jobs, and it would be a good life.* Martin solemnly tilted his head, clearly expecting a but. *But that wouldn't be us, not really. Riddler and Penguin would have to die for us to have that life and not suffocate, not go insane within those boundaries.*

*How can they die while you live? Is that possible?* the boy scrunched up his face, trying to understand. 

*Exactly, Martin! It's not. Neither of us can change what we are without losing ourselves in the process,* he tried to explain to the boy watching his hands with full attention and not crying anymore, only sniffling occasionally. *He is our tender, kind, and caring Oswald but also insanely reckless and vicious Penguin. I love him for who he is whole. I can't demand him to forsake his ambitions and give up a half of himself. Do you understand?*

Martin released a deep sigh and nodded sadly but steadily. 

*I do. I don't blame you for not stopping him; it would've hurt you both. It's just that this plan is too mad, even for Penguin,* he complained.

Ed huffed a chuckle. *That's what Oswald does. He devises a twenty-steps devious strategy that might put him in a temporary predicament but inevitably destroys his enemies in the long run. And if anything goes wrong, he can talk his way out of any danger, trust me.*

*How are you so sure about it?*

*Because I believe in him,* Ed answered earnestly. *There's nothing impossible for Oswald if he puts his mind to it. You know I'm right,* Ed winked at the slowly nodding boy. 

Martin took a few minutes to process and consider the new point of view. He then used Edward's pocket square to wipe away all traces of tears; the only visible evidence remaining was his slightly puffed eyelids and reddened nose. Ed straightened his glasses and patiently waited for the boy's verdict.

*Thank you, Ed. I think I get it now. Oswald could be happy without his empire, but Penguin in him would suffer without the freedom to do what he wants,* Martin finally signed with a solemnly thoughtful expression.

*Wow. I couldn't have said it better myself.* Edward closed his jaw that dropped in astonishment at young Martin's surprising perception.

*Then I'll support Oswald however I can. I want him to be happy,* he accentuated with determined nodding.

Edward's heart melted all over again. What a wonderful boy they have in their life. Ed never considered having a child, not consciously at least: he only had some ingrained veiled obligation to have a wife and children at some point in his adult life — a notion he discarded after finally accepting himself whole. But with having Martin's unconditional trust and getting his genuine support and sincere love, Ed started to understand why people see the appeal of having a kid.

*Thank you, Martin. Being there for Oswald and believing in him is the best we can do now. Let's support him together, shall we?* Ed offered his hand for a shake with a smile, and Martin shook it, nodding with brows slightly furrowed and jaw set in determination.

Martin sniffled one last time and gave Ed a small smile that didn't quite reach his brown eyes, surprisingly mature for an eleven-year-old boy.

*Sorry for making a scene here. Didn't mean to seem like a wimp,* he tightened his lips and glanced down apologetically. 

*No!* Ed hastily stopped his train of thoughts. Martin tilted his head with confusion. *Don't ever be sorry for being a human, Martin. Crying is natural, everybody cries, no shame in it,* Ed tried to convince the boy, when in fact he was suffering from that delusion for years himself. He didn't want Martin to bottle up his anxieties for them to twist into some mental issues later. *Especially if you have people you can trust to see your vulnerability. Don't bear your troubles alone.*

*Adrian and Janice told me the same,* he pursed his lips. *But you don't cry, do you?*

*Of course, I do cry sometimes, Martin,* Ed signed and thankfully managed not to wince at the admission that still felt subconsciously shameful. The boy gave him a skeptical look. *Ask Oswald if you don't believe me!* he huffed. *And speaking of, do you think you're the first one to cry at hearing me play?* he grinned mischievously, and Martin mirrored it with his own smirk, this time genuine and combined with mirth in his big eyes.

*Piano is always so dramatic,* he shook his head. *Not as dramatic as cello Janice plays sometimes, but still.*

*It's not the instrument, everything depends on a composition.*

*Never heard anything fun on piano. The reason why I refused to learn it when Janice offered to take me to classes,* he shrugged.

Riddler took it as a personal challenge.

*Allow me to convince you otherwise,* he signed with a chuckle and they both shifted to sit at the piano side by side.

After a moment, Edward's long fingers started to play the Ghostbusters movie theme. Sideways glances told him that Martin was pleasantly surprised with his choice and lightly tapped his palms against knees in rhythm. 

*Cool!* Martin applauded when the music stopped. *How fast can you learn to play like this?*

Excellent, the boy's interest was piqued. 

*This one is pretty difficult, but you can play something easier right from the start.*

*Like what?* Martin tilted his head to the side, studying the shiny piano. 

Ed splayed his fingers over the keys and considered what he should perform. What composition is relatively simple to play and loved by any kid in this galaxy? Oh, of course!  

After a conspiratorial wink to Martin, he played the beginning of the Imperial March theme. To his utter shock, Martin didn't look all that impressed when Riddler turned to him with a triumphant grin. Ed arched an eyebrow to gauge what seemed to be a problem here. 

*I don't like Star Wars very much,* Martin admitted, scrunching his nose adorably. 

Ed gasped and stared at him with mouth hanging open in disbelief. 

*Why am I even still talking to you and Oswald after that?* he shook his head in feigned resentment. 

Martin giggled. *He doesn't like it either?*

Riddler's full of suffering sigh was a clear answer, and the boy laughed, covering his mouth with one hand. 

*Sure, laugh all you want, traitor,* Ed pouted. *I hoped together we could make him watch at least the original trilogy,* he sighed again. *I'll never understand how a human being can dislike Star Wars.*

Still shaking with laughter, Martin signed, *You should team up with Adrian then. He has that furry guy's costume Janice allows him to wear only for one hour on Halloween.*

Now Ed joined him in merry laughter. Someday he'll talk Adrian into making their non-geek people watch and fully appreciate the cinematic masterpiece. And then Edward will coax Oswald into cosplaying R2-D2 with him as C-3PO. That is, if he stays alive after even suggesting that to his prim Penguin. 

*Alright, how about something classic then?* Ed asked before playing a light, cheerful melody. 

This time Martin nodded with approval. *This one's nice. How's it called?* 

*Dog's waltz,* Ed revealed. Both lowered their gazes to the bulldog loudly snoring next to the piano and burst out laughing again. 

*Can you teach me how to play it?* 

*With pleasure,* Ed beamed. 

The 'Dog's waltz' turned out to be too easy for Martin. The boy eagerly absorbed all the information like a sponge, and his nimble fingers had no problem repeating simple movements. After approving the composition with Martin, Ed began teaching him a simplified version of 'Indiana Jones' theme song. To start easier, Martin played instead of Edward's left hand while getting used to the lively melody they created together.

That's how the other three found them. Honestly, Ed and Martin probably wouldn't have noticed the company, if the sniffling behind their backs didn't become too incessant. They turned to see Penguin subtly wiping one tear after another and two ex-assassins: Janice had glistening sparkles in her dark eyes, while Adrian's grey ones freely released a stream of liquid. 

"My boys," Oswald breathed barely audible. He took his monocle off and rubbed his eyes, pretending that something got in them, but fooling absolutely nobody with his charade. 

Martin's parents leaned closer to each other: Mr. Nelson sniffled and wiped his tears, and Ms. Nelson rested her head on her husband's shoulder, both glowing with proud touched smiles.

Ed elbowed Martin lightly to draw attention and pointedly raised eyebrows in silent  'told you'.  Martin's initial surprise transformed into mirthful cackling, and Ed gladly joined him. Others soon followed after realizing the ridiculousness of the situation. 

*Oh, I'm definitely learning piano now!* Martin signed to Ed, both still grinning madly.

*Imagine their faces when you play something actually sad.* Riddler's suggestion was followed by another round of their merry laughter. And a lot of happy and slightly teary hugs Martin shared with everyone afterward.

"Hey, my folks returned to Gotham recently; old man wants to restore the local entertainment center they used to have. Wanna go visit?" Adrian proposed when they all were finishing the dessert at lunch, occupying one of the tables next to the penguin-themed waterfall. "They have a bowling room and one of the smaller cinema halls in working order. And they still don't know the best news," he gave affectionate ruffle to Martin's curls; the boy only nodded and smiled, hands too preoccupied with getting every last drop of his banana milkshake in the straw.

They spent the rest of the day throwing bowling balls and watching whatever movies Adrian's father managed to recover, which mostly consisted of old action movies and westerns. Martin beamed happily at being introduced and warmly accepted by his new grandparents; his family grew even bigger. 

When the time came to say goodbye, Oswald had the longest hug with Martin. He studied his boy up and down, fully aware that the next time they meet, Martin will be a teenager and also probably taller than him. They both didn't hide their tears, not afraid to show vulnerability to the people present. Edward the dog licked Oswald's face when he was picked up for goodbye cuddles, and earned long minutes of tender cooing and ear scratches. The Nelson family headed back to Blüdhaven, leaving Oswald and Edward to spend the last days of Penguin's freedom together. 

—?—

On one of those days, they paid a visit to Oswald's parents' graves. Ed stood side by side with his partner before Gertrud Kapelput's headstone. Oswald gently placed the beautifully arranged bouquet of white lilies and gave a sad smile Ed always saw him wearing when talking to his beloved mother. 

"I'm going to prison, mother," he huffed a bitter chuckle. "I know, sounds crazy, right? Your son, the convict. Sometimes I wonder if it's better that you don't see me doing what I'm doing. At other times, I hope you would've understood why I'm doing this if I told you," Oswald sighed, expression filled with solemn apology. 

Edward gently wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. They were alone here and didn't fear being exposed. 

"Your mother would've been so proud of you, Oswald. She knew you were destined for greatness, and look how much you've accomplished already, how much more you're gonna do over the following years." Oswald's gloved hand covered his, pulling it closer and tightening the hold. "Gertrud would've given you her blessing, she would've understood, I'm sure of it," he finished with a long press of his lips to Oswald's temple, the bird leaning closer in the embrace. 

"Thank you, Edward," Oswald smiled. "She would've loved you like her own son, you know," he added after a minute. 

"I'm not so sure," he huffed, biting on the lower lip. 

"I am," Oswald stated confidently. "More than anything, my mother wanted me to be happy. And you make her wish come true every day, Ed. Nothing else would ever matter to her," Oswald murmured, his words spreading warmth deep in Ed's chest. "Besides, you're not exactly a painted hussy she was so afraid would steal me," they shared a laugh, Oswald shed a few silent tears, still smiling at his mother's etched name. 

They talked with Gertrud for some time, Oswald said his goodbyes for a long while before he comes here again. 

When they were approaching the Van Dahl crypt, Ed's steps faltered: he hasn't been there since returning Elijah's body to his grave. Edward visited Gertrud together with her son almost every time nowadays but never dared to step closer to the man whose remains he desecrated once. Oswald understood him and didn't insist. But that didn't seem to be the case today. 

"Ed, come with me. Please," he added and took Edward's hand in his. 

"I can't," Ed muttered, not moving forward. 

"You can. You need to stop hurting because of the past," Oswald insisted and tugged his hand again. 

This time Ed complied, his shaking legs carrying him after Penguin. They stopped before Elijah Van Dahl's resting place, and if not for Oswald's hand holding him, Ed would've run away. Too many hurtful memories this place brought back. The nauseating stench of a decomposing body, withered yellowish-brown flesh sinking to the bones, exposed rows of teeth behind dried out lips, Oswald's horror at being haunted by his father's ghost... 

But his hand was still in Oswald's warm grasp; Ed couldn't go anywhere and wouldn't want to leave his boyfriend alone. He looked into Oswald's eyes patiently watching him with genuine understanding and not a single hint of judgment. Ed swallowed and took a deep breath before looking at the tombstone again. 

And then entirely different pictures resurfaced in his mind. Ed remembered Elijah's portrait he saw in the mansion: his refined suit and elegant features, the same thin lips and raven black hair his son inherited, endless wisdom and generosity in kind dark eyes. Edward's aching heart softened as he recalled Oswald wrapped in his cozy dressing gown, sitting with a book next to that portrait, greeting Ed with a loving smile, and pulling him into a sweet kiss. These new pictures in Edward's head were much more vivid and real than the horrors of the past, which seemed so faint and distant now, like a memory of a bad dream. Elijah Van Dahl resting here was not a sickening rotten corpse serving as an instrument of Riddler's revenge. He was Oswald's caring father, the love of his mother's life, a refined aristocrat, and an honorable heir to the noble Van Dahl name. He was a human being, and Edward wronged him terribly.

Ed gently took the bouquet from Oswald's hand and placed it before Elijah's tombstone.

"I'm truly sorry for what I've done, Mr. Van Dahl. I've hurt your son immensely and stained your memory; there is no excuse for my mistakes and no redemption. I only hope you've found peace at last," he muttered solemnly, still crouching before the etched name.

Oswald's hand squeezed his shoulder, supporting, comforting, and grounding.

"You returned him to his resting place in the end," he murmured. "My father was the kindest man I've ever known: he took a family of strangers under his care without a second thought, gave them home when they struggled. He gave me home when I had nowhere to go, made me feel loved when I was lost and alone, granted me hope, and wasn't ashamed of his criminal son for a moment," Oswald sighed. "Father had a weak heart, but I don't think there was a sin he couldn't find the strength to forgive. Your anger was justified, Edward; I know he would've forgiven you, as I have."

Absolute confidence in his voice breathed soothing wind into Edward's mind full of crippling regrets. He rose up and hugged his boyfriend's frame, muffling his 'thank you' in soft feathery hair. 

Oswald asked his father for a blessing on this reckless venture. Ed was sure Elijah would've been impressed with his son's ingenuity. The man had a peculiarly wise point of view on his criminal activity, from what Oswald told him years ago when he was healing Edward's mental wounds after Arkham and welcoming him into his home.

They left the cemetery with hands wrapped around each other's waists, both men stepping noticeably easier.

—?—

Ever since they started planning this, Ed has refused to let Oswald go out of his sight for longer than a few minutes, and his beloved bird was happy to oblige. They both needed to get as sated with each other's love as possible before the long separation. But even though they spent the last five months intimately closer than they ever were, they still couldn't get enough of it, probably — and hopefully — never will. And just a single thought that they're about to part ways for who knows how long sent them running into each other's arms straight away. That's how they spent the last weeks of Oswald's freedom. 

And this one last day before the day X, they were mostly just cuddling and snuggling with nothing left to do except enjoying each other and committing every little touch, every kiss, and word to memory. First, in bed, they even skipped breakfast and didn't regret it. In shower also together. During lunch, Oswald sat in Ed's lap and even allowed to hand-feed himself for a while; for some reason, Edward received a special kind of pleasure from the act. Guilty pleasure, as Oswald called it but still indulged him on rare occasions. 

After that, they sat nestled next to each other, cuddled on the couch near the hearth where Ed once promised to do anything for Oswald. They had no books, no board games, no distractions — only blissful basking in each other's presence. Oswald was practically lying on Riddler, head resting on his chest, hand lazily stroking his stomach through the silky material of his dark-green shirt. Ed was holding him and rubbing big circles on his back, face buried into soft feathers. 

Over the last few hours, Ed was becoming more and more anxious like he never did even before his most daring heists. But this was not just a scheme or just a murder. Oswald's life and their future were on the line. 

What if it's the last time we see each other?  No, that's absurd. Even if by some unfortunate miracle Oswald gets sentenced for life, they'll get him out of prison by legal or illegal means at any moment. 

What if something goes wrong?  No, they've thought of everything and had more than enough backup plans, each thought to the last detail. 

What if Oswald gets hurt in prison? Bane is there, so is Strange, as well as most criminals of Gotham nowadays.  No, Ed can't doubt his partner. He saw firsthand what this seemingly fragile bird was capable of. 

What if Oswald stops loving me after all the time we're gonna be apart? Oh dear, what if he decides love is not worth the pain of distance after all?  

You need to prevent it right now.  

But how? What can I do to make Oswald always remember how much our love means? 

"Eddie, my love, please stop worrying. We have everything ready. It will work, I promise," Oswald murmured and patted his side soothingly, turning his head slightly to press a kiss over Edward's heart.

How did he know I was worried? 

Oswald knows us too well, of course.  

What if he decides I'm dull and too predictable?  

Too boring?  

Oh God, he's gonna leave me.  

No, no, no, no, no, no, please don't leave!... 

Edward barely registered his breathing quickening and heart racing like crazy. He could hardly draw air, and his thoughts were a mess of anxiety and terror. His vision blurred; was he going blind on top of all?! Oh, no, wait, it's only tears rolling from his eyes. 

"Ed? Edward? Ed!" 

Oswald's voice so distant, like Edward was drowning. 

"Ed, look at me!" 

When did Oswald move to sit on his lap? 

Ed felt strong hands firmly grasping his shoulders. They dragged him from underwater. Soft lips pressed slightly to his breathed life and air back into Edward's suffocating lungs. Oswald broke him free from his panic attack and was now rubbing his shoulders, where they still tingled from his solid grip. 

"Shh, it's alright, my love," he was whispering and peppering Edward's face with small sweet kisses between words. "We're gonna be okay. When Riddler and Penguin work together, nothing can stop us, remember?" 

Ed's breath only barely evened out. And wild thoughts were still stumbling on each other, forming a ragged desperate plan that couldn't quite come together yet, but was already threatening to spill from his mouth if he didn't keep it shut. That's what he focused on, staying silent. Until Oswald kissed him on the lips again, and Ed on instinct opened up to let him deepen the kiss, and-

"Oswaldireallyneedyoutomarrymerightnowpleasewillyou?" rattled words flew out of Ed's mouth in one single breath before he could stop it or even think about what he was going to say. 

Oswald tilted his head, looking puzzled. "I didn't quite catch that, Eddie. Can you repeat it for me?" 

What's happening? Why did he say those words? Oh, right. He doesn't want Oswald to leave him. They will surely stay together for good if they get married, right? Yes, that seems logical. And yes, Ed really does want it, more than anything. It might've seemed to come from fear at first, but in truth, this idea came from the deepest love Edward feels for this man, he sees it now more clearly. He wants them to be husbands, to rule this city hand in hand forever. Ed's mouth just uttered the words before his reasonable mind could catch up. How on earth Oswald always manages to turn his sharp calculating brain into a jiggly mess of uselessness is a puzzle yet to be solved.

Repeat again but slower and mean it this time, you imbecile. Riddler was irritated to no end by this too impromptu proposal. It wasn't nearly flashy enough for his liking. 

"What binds two people but touches only one?" his brain unhelpfully supplied a riddle instead of a heartfelt marriage proposal Ed was looking for. 

Oswald seemed even more puzzled now, he adorably furrowed his brows and shook his head slightly. "I don't know, Eddie. What's on your mind?" 

"Please, Oswald, solve the riddle," his anxiety was beginning to resurface again. He won't be able to say the words without some help. "I'm made for one but meant for two. To put me on, just say you do. What am I?" 

This is pathetic! Our Penguin deserves so much better. 

Yes, I know, but there's no way back now. We'll have to work with what we have. 

Oswald considered the riddles for a few minutes, still straddling Ed's lap and slowly stroking along his shirt's collar folds. Then realization dawned on him, his hands froze, he raised his eyebrows and looked at Ed incredulously. "The answer… Is it a wedding ring?" he tried, doubtful and almost shy of his guess.

Edward breathed a sigh of relief and nodded shakily. He shifted them so that Oswald sat on the couch, and Ed slid to one knee on the floor before him, not tearing his eyes from the astonished green and blue ones before him. 

"Oswald. I love you more than anything in this world, more than I thought loving someone was possible. You're my best friend, my partner, my love, and my home. You're the only riddle I proudly fail to solve. The impossible puzzle with too many pieces I want to keep discovering as long as I live," Ed said confidently and with a soft smile playing on his lips. Oswald seemed to hold his breath, eyes wide open, and mouth slightly agape. 

"I would do anything for you, Oswald. I want you to be the happiest man in this universe, and I wish for nothing more than a privilege to devote my life to making it so," he saw tears in his beloved bird's eyes and took it as an encouragement. 

Ed gently scooped Oswald's hands in his, and straightened his back, looking into his boyfriend's widened eyes. "Fate brought us together and kept us from tearing each other apart. How about we finally agree to its plan and stay together, forever?" Penguin slowly nodded, enthralled; he was sniffling quietly. "Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, will you honor me by becoming my husband?" 

After another insufferably long minute of mesmerized staring, Oswald's trance was finally broken, and he couldn't hold back the tears anymore. It might've been worrying if not for the brightest smile that lit his face and ignited a myriad of sparks in his eyes. 

"Yes! Oh God, of course, yes, Eddie," he breathed and wrapped Ed in a tight embrace. Edward felt his fiancé — oh dear, he has a fiancé now — sobbing and laughing at the same time, hot tears wetting his skin as Oswald nuzzled into the crook of his neck. 

Oswald pulled away suddenly. "But Ed, we won't be able to marry before tomorrow. Or do you want to postpone our plans and have a wedding first?" Ed was grateful for the offer, but they worked too hard on their plan to delay and change it now. Besides, their relationship was still a secret — albeit an openly speculated one — and they both agreed it better stay that way until they're back in full power. 

He shook his head, "No, my lovely fiancé." Oswald blushed sweetly at the sound of the new title. "We follow the plan to a tee. And get married after your release. It will be a wedding Gotham would remember for decades." 

"Alright, my future husband," now was Edward's turn to blush at the new form of endearment. "That sounds like a brilliant plan; we'll have even more to look forward to now." 

After a short kiss, Oswald added, "Although I will be expecting a proper ring. It must be at least half as fancy as the one I'll be getting for you," he said with a cheeky smile. 

Ed felt his face burn even more, "You don't have to doubt that, my love. I didn't exactly plan to propose today. You seem to be the only person who can scramble all my thoughts with one look," he gently stroked his bird's soft hair, "And I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you, Ozzie." 

"Love you too, Eddie. I can't believe we're gonna get married!" he giggled and pulled Ed into a kiss. 

Gradually, it deepened, and hands began wandering all over each other's bodies. Ed crawled up to straddle Oswald's lap and press their bodies as close as humanly possible. 

"Oh, I'm gonna miss this so much," Ed said in between delightful presses of their lips together. "Can't wait for you to return already." 

"I'm gonna miss you too, my love. But you know what?" Oswald asked before pressing a trail of kisses along Edward's jawline. "I promise you that tonight we shall do things that'll make you blush for years," Oswald whispered lowly in his ear. It sent sparkling shivers down Ed's spine, and he grabbed onto his lover's shoulders tighter. 

"Then I'm not letting you sleep until we fulfill every kinky dream we have," Ed whispered back and whimpered when Oswald bit his earlobe and then soothed the sensitive skin caressing it between his soft lips. 

Penguin leaned back to look in his eyes and murmured in a sweet voice, "Kinky, huh? Well then, get yourself ready for proper treatment, my dear." Edward felt heat spreading in his lower stomach. "And tonight, Riddler, I'll allow you to do anything to me."

Ed gulped and dug his fingers deeper into Oswald's upper arms, relishing in sweet hiss it caused. Being a naturally curious creature, Ed loved experimenting with basically anything in his life. Their bedroom was far from an exception. It wasn't every day that Oswald indulged Riddler in his wild games and fascinating tests, which made it all the more priceless when he did.

"Anything?" Riddler teased. His hands traveled to stroke Oswald's back, which arched delightfully under his touches. "You just got yourself into big trouble, little bird."

"I was never more willing to fly into a trap," he smirked. "Whenever you feel cold and lonely, Edward, just remember that a repeat or a continuation of this night will await you as soon as I rise high enough to get out and come see you," he assured with a playful wink.

This promise might just make the wait at least somewhat bearable.

They resumed their passionate make-out session, but before it could progress further, they were interrupted by a bell and Olga's stern voice, "Dinner ready in ten." 

It was a wise decision to give her a bell for announcements. It saved all of them an unnecessary embarrassment as that one time when the poor woman walked in on both men fully naked snuggled on the soft carpet next to the fireplace.

They stayed and kissed more gently, too blissful to get up. Kisses slowly faded to lazy cuddles, and they just melted into each other, heartbeats and breathing synchronized — two individuals forming what felt like one whole being. 

Ed was slowly stroking his bird's waist, breathing in his scent, memorizing every tiniest detail about his beloved fiancé. Every little purring sound he makes. How he leans into the touch, more cuddly cat than a penguin. How his whole body trembles when Ed puffs a breath in his sweet ear. How he lovingly gazes at Ed with eyes of a different color, which is not too prominent right now as both pupils are almost equally widened: chemistry of his body speaking of love as good as his words and actions do. 

During dinner, Ed decided to sit in Oswald's lap for a change. It was less comfortable for the man due to their height difference, but he didn't complain and only tugged Edward closer. 

After dinner, they decided not to waste time and moved to their master bedroom. They didn't get much sleep, too busy fulfilling Oswald's promise about an unforgettable night. They met sunrise cozily snuggled under the soft duvet, in total bliss, slightly dazed from an overdose of pleasure. Shower returned some of their energy, and after breakfast, nightly exhaustion faded. They were ready for Penguin's daring move. 

Chapter Text

It was time. The plan itself wasn't too convoluted, and that was the beauty of it. It didn't advertise Riddler's brilliance and mock other's inferior intelligence like he preferred, but this case wasn't about him. This was Penguin's game, and he was going to outplay the whole Gotham.

Early on day X, Riddler drove to the City Hall. He left the car a few blocks away and approached the building from the hidden path they've prepared in advance. Grey hoodie, jeans, and blue baseball cap disguised him well, and a few people he met on the way didn't even spare him a glance. Climbing the wall to reach the window of the Mayor's office was easy enough; Ed was hiding in position long before Mayor Chang entered her office with Giovanni in tow. The man was of average height, had a moderately sturdy physique, a prominent bald spot among otherwise thick brown hair, and an obscenely foul cologne. Oswald warned him about that last part, but still, Ed did not expect such a cruel assault on his defenseless olfactory sense. He had to hold his nose and breathe only through the fabric of his sleeve, by some miracle managing not to sneeze or gag.

The two sat and discussed their plans for the city, specifically about a newly discovered weak spot in Penguin's operations. Of course, that information was carefully provided by Oswald himself through a few sources so that it would reach the Mayor exactly this morning and provoke this impromptu meeting shortly before his own appointment with the woman. Mayor Chang didn't shy from speaking her mind bluntly, without metaphors or ambiguous messages. She wanted Penguin behind bars. What a sweet irony, her sacrifice is gonna do exactly that! Giovanni wanted Penguin dead, but Mayor convinced him that 'the little shit' won't survive a month inside Blackgate, and it's less messy and risky this way. Just like always, Oswald's enemies underestimated him, and it will cost them their lives. 

Edward waited for Oswald to get his part ready. A few days ago, they subtly instigated a transfer of a large portion of Giovanni's assets to the one specific warehouse. While Riddler was getting into position, Penguin was supposed to raid it, take everything, kill almost everyone, and 'accidentally' leave a surviving witness who would soon wake up and send the message. That'll piss the man off enough so that he would be easily manipulated to play into Penguin's hand during this campaign. 

Right on time, Giovanni's phone rang, and, after a few minutes of listening to the other line, the enraged gangster left the Mayor's office without explanation or goodbye, his face red with angry veins bulging on his forehead. Unfortunately, his foul cologne's stench persisted even after he slammed the door behind him. 

Giovanni's and Penguin's raging screams outside the office were barely muffled. Mayor Chang headed to the door to see what the commotion in the hall was about but halted as Riddler stepped out from his hiding place. She gasped and tried to scream when she saw the glint of a blade in his hand; it was from one of Penguin's custom-made cane handles, the metal bird's head sat surprisingly comfortably in Ed's palm. No sounds left Mayor's throat except wet gurgling as the scarlet blood rushed out, staining her neat suit and expensive carpet. Another stream gushed from the second wound — in her abdomen this time. And then from a few more stabs made in rapid succession so that it seemed like the attacker was blind with fury.

The shouting behind the doors silenced by the time Mayor Chang's body stopped twitching, and last breath left her with a gulp of blood. That meant Oswald managed to divert Giovanni's attention, and they both left the building. Ed didn't count on it too much, but this was even better. Switching to step 4 of plan B then. 

Ed wiped the blade on the Mayor's clothes and planted a few more clues that could place Penguin on the crime scene. Nothing too incriminating and obvious, of course. They didn't want Gordon to believe somebody set Oswald up, not yet at least. The clues meant to help make him one of the main suspects, but the final blow will come from his little adversary Giovanni. Riddler left the way he came and made sure not to leave any unwanted traces behind. His job wasn't done yet.

Ed made his way to the records room. He didn't even have to sneak and hide: his casual clothes provided all the disguise he required. Hands in pockets, shuffling gait, and hunched back completed his impression of a bored tech guy. It took Riddler a few seconds to pick the lock; real tech guy will be on his lunch break for seventeen more minutes. 

Ed found and checked the needed records: the screen displayed leaning on a cane Penguin coming through the main entrance and up the stairs to the Mayor's office, hurriedly greeting a few people on his way. The body language and jerky movements visibly spoke of his irritation. Oswald was about to reach the door when enraged Giovanni threw it open and charged at him. Despite everything going according to plan, Ed couldn't help a pang of fury at the sight of his beloved feathered friend being pinned to the wall by that stinking knucklehead. There was no sound, but the screen revealed the two men arguing animatedly until Oswald pushed him away, and led the way back after spitting a few more words in his scowling face. They both left the City Hall together, using the same main entrance Oswald used and not encountering any people at all. Lunch break with surprise free dessert from the local bakery does wonders to make the halls empty; Oswald's idea was on point.

Riddler packed today's camera records. They'll be needed much, much later to reveal the truth.

One hour later, he found Oswald on the couch in the living room of Van Dahl mansion. The man was sipping tea and munching chocolate biscuits, pensively watching the serene dance of flames in the fireplace. 

Oswald smiled at Ed as he entered. "Did everything go right on your part?" 

"Yep, all swell," Riddler dangled a bag with stolen records and grinned. "Need to store this somewhere safe. And this," he placed Penguin's spare cane handle with the thin blade now thoroughly cleaned of Mayor's blood, "is bound to put you behind bars. I even crouched to hit from the most… believable angle," he smirked, eyeing his partner's shorter frame.

Oswald rolled his eyes. "Put your illegally long legs to use then, and come here," he said and beckoned him closer. 

Ed eagerly obliged and straddled Oswald's lap after taking teacup from his hands and placing it on the coffee table. He cupped his bird's face with both hands and claimed his lips, hungrily consuming every little delighted sound spilling from them. The knowledge that this is one of the last kisses they'll have in a while spurred Riddler into bracing his beautiful lover tighter and licking deeper into his sweet mouth. Oswald was responding in kind, probably also trying to make up for the lost time in advance. 

Edward didn't know how long they spent like that, but when they finally pulled away, his jaw was blissfully aching. Both men were panting as they stared deep into each other's loving eyes. 

"How long do you think it'll take them?" Oswald whispered, his hot breath ghosting on Edward's lips as he spoke. 

"Depends on how fast they find her, question the staff, and connect all the dots. I'd say we have about twenty more minutes," Riddler said after a glance at his watch. "Half an hour at best." 

Oswald nodded and pressed their foreheads together as his hands slowly stroked Ed's thighs. 

"Thank you, Edward," he murmured and rubbed his nose against Ed's, closing his eyes and exhaling a small sigh. 

Ed gently stroked his fingertips over soft shorter hair on the back of his bird's head. He probably disturbed some of the meticulously arranged spiky strands, but Oswald didn't voice any protest. 

"For putting you in prison? You're… welcome?" he chuckled, not sure what could be an appropriate response in this case. 

"For helping me get my throne back, for believing in me," one of Oswald's hands straightened Edward's glasses and rested on his cheek, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone. 

"I always believe in you, Oswald," Ed admired how the eyes before him sparkled at the words. 

They shared more kisses, desperately unwilling to part with each other. They intentionally didn't mark their last kiss, the thought was too painful, but Ed memorized it anyway. It was excruciatingly slow, delicious, and tender. His tongue got so adept at exploring Oswald's sweet mouth that it felt like his own. Edward wanted never to lose that feeling; he will keep this memory with him as a part of his beloved fiancé so that wherever Ed goes on his own, he won't travel alone. 

Riddler briefly went upstairs to change his casual clothes into the more appropriate green suit with a crisp white shirt and emerald tie with thin black stripes. Later, two criminals sat in the living room with teacups in their hands. Ed took one of the armchairs, and Oswald relaxed on the couch, both ready for their 'guests'. 

Just like clockwork, police busted through the main entrance of the mansion. Commissioner Gordon himself has arrived to apprehend his 'old friend' Penguin. Two more officers with him. Thankfully, he didn't bring that drunk moron Bullock along. Small mercies. 

"GCPD!" all too familiar calling. "Oswald Cobblepot, you're under arrest on suspicion of murder. You have the right to remain silent-" Gordon's standard lines were interrupted by Oswald's screech and desperate fighting against being handcuffed. 

"Jim?  What is the meaning of this?!" Oswald sounded profoundly shocked and outraged. 

What an actor! 

"Gordon! Let. Him. Go," Ed joined the charade. Riddler's delighted laughter in his ears contrasted with the angry scowl on his face. 

"Stay out of it, Nygma. We're here only for Penguin," Gordon warned as one of the officers intercepted Ed's feigned attempts to protest. Oswald kept fighting and shouting insults at 'incompetent GCPD imbeciles'. 

Jim lost his patience and grabbed Penguin by the lapels, snarling into his face, "Oswald, what the hell were you thinking?! You both got your pardons, free to start from a clean slate! But instead, you just go and kill the Mayor?! " 

Riddler saw red. He balled his fists, trying to restrain himself from physically lashing at Gordon. How dare this buffoon touch his Penguin?! 

"Get your paws off him, you mongrel," he growled, not even pretending to be enraged anymore. 

Commissioner probably saw something in Riddler's eyes that made him release his hold on Oswald's jacket and take half a step back. 

Edward instantly calmed down and reminded himself of his role in this game: he was supposed to look as merely a concerned friend. Probably overdid it a bit, but he couldn't help it. 

Oswald looked smugly pleased with this display of possessive protectiveness. He continued his play quickly to avert unwanted attention from Riddler's outburst. 

"Jim, I swear to you, I didn't kill anyone, much less the Mayor! You have to believe me," he pleaded desperately. Ed wanted to laugh at that. No wonder Penguin is such a good liar, he's telling the truth half the time. 

Gordon grimly shook his head, looking disgusted, "I thought better of you, Oswald, I really hoped you could change. I  personally  vouched for you!" 

Was it sincere sadness Ed saw in Oswald's eyes? Was he genuinely sorry that he disappointed Jim and broke their shaky truce? The emotion was fleeting, though, and probably invisible to anyone but him. 

"Listen to me, you self-righteous fool! I didn't even see the Mayor today!" — true again. Any sign of remorse gone, Penguin now was the picture of outrage: brows furrowed, teeth bared, eyes blazing with hatred as he was snarling into Gordon's face. 

"We'll see about that. Now you'll be coming with us. I promised to arrest you myself, didn't I?" Commissioner added bitterly. 

"How courteous of you, Commissioner," Penguin grimaced with a fake smile. "But you're barking at the wrong tree, as usual. I didn't kill Mayor Chang."

Commissioner only shook his head with a disappointed exhale, straightened his back, recovered his mask of detached righteousness, and continued his script about Oswald's rights. Gordon and one of the other officers handcuffed the still struggling Penguin and led him out of the mansion. Ed made a few more feeble attempts to stop them, just for show. 

Outside they were met with a crowd of reporters and immediately got assaulted with their flurry of questions and microphones. An anonymous call to Valerie Vale did its job well. 

"Commissioner, any comments on the situation?" 

"Are you arresting Mr. Cobblepot for the murder of the Mayor?" 

"Is there any concrete evidence he did it?" 

"Why would the war hero do that?" 

"Do you think Mayor Chang tried to prevent Penguin's rise back to criminal power?" 

"Are you worried about becoming his next target?" 

Gordon led Oswald in front of him, ignoring all questions. 

"Mr. Cobblepot, you were seen at the City Hall today, any comments on that?" That was addressed to Penguin, and he was happy to act for the public. 

"Yes! I was there this morning, I had an appointment with the Mayor, but I didn't even see her," he was crudely pushed forward by Gordon. Ed was itching to intervene, but he must not draw attention to himself now. Oswald is the star of this show, and he shines as bright as ever. "This whole thing is a sham!"

Oh, it is, indeed.  

"Are you saying you're being framed? By whom?" 

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Penguin is so glorious like this: surrounded by dozens of cameras, with head held high no matter the handcuffs; his uneven gait proud and dignified despite harsh pushes from behind. "As for whom, I have a lot of enemies. Starting with the man right behind me as it seems." 

His 'poor innocent victim of the GCPD'  act earned him sympathetic murmurs from reporters and another shove in the back from Gordon. He even stumbled and rubbed his bad leg with cuffed hands. Ed almost lunged to his side but noticed that Oswald was actually hiding his smile under the pained grimace. All just an act.  Magnificent.  

All city will know now that Commissioner James Gordon personally arrested one of the war heroes, his ex-ally. A person who publicly assisted in restoring Gotham. And who he vouched for to keep him free, which resulted in the Mayor's untimely demise. The first blow to Gordon's reputation, but nothing too severe just yet. 

The hail of questions didn't stop even after Penguin had been manhandled into the police car and taken away. Now that their primary targets were gone, reporters turned to the only source of information left. It was Riddler's time to act. He donned a distraught expression of an outraged best friend and began answering their rather predictable questions. 

"No, I don't believe Penguin killed the Mayor. He would've told me otherwise." 

"No, I have no knowledge as to where he had been today. I came here less than an hour ago." 

"Penguin has plenty of enemies and rivals in Gotham and beyond, yes."

"No, I'm not gonna guess right now who exactly is behind this."

"Yes, of course, I'll try to get proof of Oswald's innocence if I can." 

"I don't know what you're insinuating about our relationship. Oswald and I are friends and partners," truth is a liar's best weapon indeed. 

"I have no further comment on this situation. Please excuse me," this was straying too far anyway. 

—?—

Further events continued to unfold according to their plan. Predictably, Penguin was held in legal custody during the investigation and trial. Being an ex-high profile criminal, he wasn't allowed to bail, and all visits except his lawyer were prohibited by Commissioner personally. They were ready for it, but it didn't stop Ed from verbally lashing out at Gordon every time they met. 

The investigation didn't last long. Pardon or not, Penguin's reputation played against him. Or in his favor, depending on how you look at it. Scraps of evidence Ed left for the GCPD were enough to charge him with murder and send his case to trial. The only person who could testify in Penguin's defense was Giovanni, still furious about his warehouse and people. Personally, Ed didn't like the idea of putting so much faith in that moron's predictability, but Oswald's judge of character rarely failed, and he could read Giovanni like a book. 

It was simultaneously funny and sad how hard Foxy was avoiding Riddler during the investigation. He wondered if it was his own decision or Gordon's order since Lucius and Edward grew quite friendly and did an excellent job helping the city together. Maybe Lucius simply didn't want to be threatened by the Riddler into falsification of the evidence. Either way, Ed couldn't get access to the investigation by any legal means. So he sneaked into the GCPD a few times to check that everything was going well. For the most part, it was. 

The only time Riddler had to intervene was when it became apparent that the woefully incompetent police won't find one necessary connection on their own. So during another heated squabble with Gordon, Ed reminded him about his own crookedness and sins: how he worked for Sofia, and how he raided the Narrows with a well-known assassin Headhunter. He saw the rusty gears turn in that self-righteous head of the Commissioner, even though the man tried not to show it. That night, Riddler saw Headhunter's case file on top of the table in Gordon's office. It included the name of the doctor who treated him after the assassin was brought in critical condition from severe blood loss. Jimbo must feel so smug for outsmarting Ed and using his words against Penguin. Edward will let him have it, for now. This whole precinct of idiots couldn't even work on a case without his help, how pathetic is that!

—?—

Only on the last day before the trial, Ed was allowed to visit Oswald. There was no way he could interfere with the investigation at this point, and any attempt to break Penguin out would require much more time than that. 

Oswald looked tired and very small in his inmate uniform when he was led into the room. His limp was more pronounced than usual, and Ed didn't know how much of that was an act. Oswald was genuinely happy to see his fiancé though, that emotion was real, and Ed could see it in Oswald's smile as well as in his eyes. The bastards took his monocle as if Penguin could kill someone with it. Stupid apes. He could, of course, but why would he kill someone before a trial where he'll plead innocent. 

They were denied privacy in the meeting room and had a police officer standing a few feet behind Oswald and pretending not to listen to every word they said. An inconvenience, nothing more. Thanks to Martin's presence in their lives, both men knew ASL and could communicate silently what they wanted and say out loud what was safe. 

"Hello, Oswald," simultaneously with the silent *I missed you, my sweet bird*, his hands barely above the table and hidden from the guard by Oswald's frame. "How are you?" 

"Hello, my friend," with silent *Missed you too, my love*. "I'm as good as could be expected in the circumstances," and *The Underworld is changing so much, Ed. I'm shocked I haven't seen it before.*

"I'm so sorry, Oswald. I couldn't find anything confirming that you are being framed," and *I'm glad you're making progress already. Everything is going according to plan out there.*

"It's alright, Edward. Thank you for trying anyway. You're the only one who doesn't think I did it," with *Perfect. You know, Jim is actually trying to ease my sentence.*

Ed furrowed his brows. "Well, I'm the only one who's not a moron unlike Gordon and the likes of him," and signed a question that bothered him for a while, *Do you regret it? Disappointing him like that?*

Oswald sighed and answered, *I did. But not anymore, not after how he didn't even doubt my guilt for a split second. He sees me as only a monster, so that's what I'll become to him from now on.*

Ed nodded solemnly. He couldn't deny how his heart leaped at Penguin's words. No matter how unfounded it was, Riddler always hated that sting of jealousy he felt every time Oswald granted special treatment to that hypocritical pig who didn't deserve that kindness. *You don't need him. You never did.*

Oswald smiled gratefully. *Thank you, Ed. Wish I could hug you right now.*

Ed huffed. *Same. Can't believe I was the one who persuaded you to go through with it.* He then noticed they were sitting silently for a minute and said out loud, "Do you want me to do anything else out there?" 

*You did it because you want me to be true to myself.* And answered aloud, "Yes, could you please watch over my parents' graves sometimes?" 

"Yep, sure thing," he nodded. *Of course, always. Speaking of, let me tell you about a few things I'm planning…*

They talked like this for a few more minutes; Riddler described his newest schemes silently. To fill the voiced conversation and also to annoy Gordon, they began speaking random nonsense that was too glaringly suspicious not to be considered a cipher. Stuff like 'the cobra left its nest yesterday' and 'the hawk is still watching' will give those imbeciles something to think of. Both criminals tried their best not to cackle, which was twice as difficult for Ed, who saw the increasingly panicked expression of the guard behind Oswald. But soon, Penguin too struggled to hold back his laughter when Ed told him the riddle he's going to send to the GCPD as a clue. 

"Alright, meeting's over. Say your goodbyes, and let's go," the nervously sweating guard called shakily. 

Both criminals suddenly regained seriousness, realizing that this is it, their final minutes together for a long while. The gravity of the situation dawned on them, mirth in their gazes was replaced by sober determination.

"Don't do anything rash, Ed, don't waste your second chance like it seems I did," Oswald said simultaneously with silent, *Good luck with that, Ed, mind-blowing indeed.* And after a pause, *But seriously, don't get captured, would you?*

"I won't. You don't have to worry," Ed assured aloud with a huff, answering both requests. *I'm gonna miss you so much, my love,* his hands were shaking. "Good luck, my friend. I know you can survive it," his voice was shaking too. And he meant what he said out loud as well. 

*I'll miss you too. Just remember that I'm with you, always,* Oswald's fingers also trembled, and tears were welling up in his eyes. "Thank you, Edward. For everything."

They got up. But when Penguin was about to be escorted out, Ed couldn't restrain himself anymore. He reached Oswald in two long strides and wrapped him in a bone-crushing embrace. Oswald couldn't hug him back with his handcuffs, but he leaned closer and managed to breathe out a quiet 'love you' before being torn away from Ed. 

"No physical contact with the prisoner! Step away," guard was grasping Oswald's arm and yanking him back, shoving Ed aside with his other hand. 

"Don't you dare touch us, you worthless waste of oxygen," Riddler growled.

The idiot guard looked startled at that. After a second, he let go of Penguin, silently prompting him to move on his own. 

Ed glanced back before leaving and saw Oswald staring at him over the shoulder with the mix of awe and hunger. Riddler was sure that under different circumstances, he would have already been jumped by his passionate bird. Alas, all he could do now was to wink at him playfully and walk out the door before his body would betray him by doing anything too irrational. 

—?—

The trial was very public and controversial. The courtroom was bursting with people: police officers, court guards, lawyers, journalists, live TV reporters. 

Oswald was led to the defendant's table together with his attorney. He wore his impeccable void-black suit with a dark-grey waistcoat, black shirt, and brocade tie, hair styled back in spiky feathers, and chainless monocle shining over his blue eye. As always, Penguin held his head high and sported an irritated scowl. The only thing out of place was handcuffs slightly rattling as he stepped to his seat. Oswald exchanged small glances with Ed, not risking anything beyond that. 

His lawyer, Ms. Diaz, was a young woman, not even in her thirties yet, but she had an air of superiority around her, which wasn't too unfounded, Ed supposed. She was an excellent specialist and possessed a cold precision that Edward could relate to. Even her appearance spoke of it: the black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse didn't seem to have a single wrinkle out of place, straight black hair was gathered in a tight ponytail, the slim face was made even sharper with thin square rimless eyeglasses. With extra inches from her shiny black pumps, Ms. Diaz only barely reached Oswald's height. Her high heels loudly clicked on the floor as she strode next to the Penguin, both looking like this puny courtroom wasn't worthy of their presence. 

The commotion was bordering on chaos, and the judge — a severely looking older woman, well-known for her unbribable nature and exceptionally rigorous trials — had to strike with her gavel a few times, demanding silence in Court. After the order had been restored, she signaled the beginning of opening statements and gave the word to the prosecution represented by none other than Harvey Dent himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, citizens of our beloved Gotham," he began peacocking with his pristine suit, polished shoes, and neat haircut in the middle of the courtroom like on his personal stage. 

"A monstrous crime has been committed against us. Our brave leader, our beloved Mayor Claire Chang, has been brutally murdered in her own office," he announced gravely. Ed resisted the urge to object that it was a rather easy death, not the gory agony the lawyer tried to picture here. "And make no mistake, it was a crime against all of us, against everything we believe in," he balled his fist, gesturing animatedly. Edward had to admit, the man sure had charisma and easily seized every look in the room, commanding the audience's attention as he saw fit. 

"She fought for Gotham's resurgence, waged war against criminals and monsters that had been ravaging our city for years. Against people like the defendant, Mr. Cobblepot," he motioned at Oswald and sent a flurry of spiteful glares his way. Harvey's emotional tirade was working well. "Although, most of you know him by his other name — the Penguin. This name is connected to countless criminal activities, including bribery, racketeering, tortures, murders, and mob wars," he proclaimed, almost growling by the end. 

The crowd filling the courtroom buzzed like a hive of agitated bees until Harvey Dent silenced them merely by raising his hand in the air. 

"But! Today's trial is not about his old crimes. It's about deciding whether Penguin did or didn't murder in cold blood or feat of fury our dearest Mayor Claire Chang — a loving mother of two talented children." 

Ed huffed under his breath at how blatantly Dent used Oswald's moniker to dehumanize him, all the while bringing out Mayor's humane qualities. And how conveniently he omitted the fact that her two children left Gotham as soon as they were old enough to provide for themselves, and didn't even bother attending their mother's funeral or trial of her alleged murderer.

"Dear ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it falls to you to serve as a hand of justice today. The government will provide more than enough forensic and physical evidence to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that this man is guilty," Harvey announced and briefly outlined the prosecution's vector of proving Oswald's guilt. 

The righteous fire he ignited within present people's hearts hadn't faded by the time Harvey Dent finished his speech and sat down. Ed saw more than a few hands twitch as if holding back from applause. If Oswald's attorney fails to put out those fires, he has a real danger of being sentenced for life; his alleged crime was grave enough. It wouldn't matter too much, of course, they'll just have to switch to plan D and get him out when Oswald decides he established enough control. Still, Ed would prefer to have an actual release date set, not a vague 'sometime in the future'.

"Ms. Diaz, are you prepared to make your opening statement, or are you reserving the right to do it at a later time?" the judge asked. 

"We'd like to postpone, Your Honor," Oswald's defense attorney declared. Smart move, no way she could top Dent's flashy performance with the crowd and jury so riled up emotionally. 

Ed spoke with Ms. Diaz a few times while she was building a case for the defense. Even after their first meeting when she questioned him, Edward could already see that the outrageous price for her services was surprisingly adequate. She wasn't a halfwit, which Ed could say about only a selected few among Gotham's population. Ms. Diaz was sharp and relentless. Riddler wondered if Oswald told her about his preferred outcome of this trial. Probably didn't, but he might if he intends to keep her employed. At least Ed would: it's not every day you can find a good lawyer willing to cooperate with notorious criminals, and she seems intelligent enough to handle the truth and keep her mouth shut.

Dent presented all the evidence and even the lack thereof. 

Mayor's wounds were undoubtedly made with a blade identical to one in Penguin's cane; forensics even found slight marks around the cuts, left by the base of the handle. Mayor's injuries were also corresponding to the ones Joseph Wendell, calling himself Headhunter, had sustained in 'unknown circumstances' at Iceberg Lounge around two years ago. Ms. Diaz objected to discard this evidence since Headhunter's current whereabouts were unknown, and he never pressed any charges. But the judge allowed it: Wendell's wounds had been treated and even documented by the same Gotham General Hospital's doctor who took the stand as an expert in this case, and attested that injuries were, in fact, absolutely identical. The prosecution did their homework splendidly after Riddler provided them with a vital hint about Headhunter. Ed silently applauded Harvey Dent — he managed to build a somewhat convincing case on the sparse evidence, a bunch of coincidences, and his own charisma. With such passionate ambitions, he could probably rival Penguin himself on the Underworld stage if there was ever a possibility of Dent challenging criminals somewhere else besides the courtroom.

A few fingerprints and a couple of dropped hairs determined that Oswald had been in Mayor's office at some point not too long before the murder, which wasn't unexpected or incriminating, of course, but, again, added to the pile of coincidences that could not be ignored by the jury. 

Thanks to Harvey's speechcraft, the jury was led to believe that even the fact of missing camera records speaks of Penguin's guilt, the presumption of innocence be damned. According to Dent, 'the hopeless criminal' stole them to get rid of the evidence. The statement was further supported by a few witnesses claiming they saw Mr. Cobblepot on his way to the Mayor's office right around the estimated time of the murder. 

Finally, Giovanni paraded onto the witness stand. His foul cologne preceded him to the courtroom; Ed saw at least a few people trying to cover their noses subtly. The brainless gangster wore a cheap suit, and his lips were stretched in a triumphant grin as he answered Dent's questions and kept throwing glances at Penguin. Ed had to give his fiancé credit here. Riddler could barely keep himself from bursting into laughter; for Oswald, it must've been nearly impossible to keep his distressed facade under dozens of cameras. 

"Mr. Giovanni, please tell us about the last time you saw Mayor Chang alive," Dent asked, not even looking at the witness but instead studying faces of the jury like a rigorous eagle ready for a hunt.

"Yeah, so Claire called me to discuss some business. You see, we got along very well, we were almost like friends." 

There was a displeased buzzing in the crowd, and Giovanni took the hint that it's probably not a good idea to announce the late Mayor's connections to a publicly speculated criminal. He swallowed nervously after a meaningful glare from Dent. 

Ed was sure that the ever righteous counselor itched to prosecute Giovanni as well, but was forced to treat him as just a witness to get Penguin behind bars. These crusades against an entire criminal underworld never ended well; Dent really should tread carefully. Or not, it might be fun to watch him fall, Riddler mused while Giovanni continued his tale.

"We talked, I got urgent call and bumped into him," the gangster pointed at Oswald, "on my way out. We argued, he was crazy raging, I was scared for my life. You see, Penguin and Claire were old-time enemies unlike-" 

"Objection, Your Honor. Hearsay," Ms. Diaz intervened. 

"Sustained. Mr. Giovanni, give your statement without unnecessary or unsubstantiated information," the judge declared. 

"Yea, sorry, Your Honor. So anyways, we argued. He took the blade from his walking stick and threatened to kill me too if I didn't leave quietly. So I did, 'course. Penguin was mad angry when he entered Claire's office with his blade still out-"

"LIAR!" Penguin screeched and jumped from his seat, causing the present guards to draw their guns. How ludicrous, considering that Oswald was handcuffed and wasn't known for excessive physical abilities. 

"Defendant, sit down," the judge commanded sternly. 

"I will not! This trial is a goddamn circus. This man is lying to you and-" 

"Ms. Diaz, calm your client down, or I'll be forced to extract him from the courtroom," the judge addressed Oswald's attorney. 

Ms. Diaz rose up, leaned to Oswald, and whispered something that seemed to appease him. He dropped onto his chair with a loud huff, visibly struggling with the inability to cross his handcuffed arms over his chest. If Ed didn't know any better, he would've believed in that vivid display of outrage.

"Forgive us for the interruption," the lawyer said shortly and sat down. 

Harvey Dent finished questioning Giovanni, and Ms. Diaz didn't have much luck drawing anything useful for the defense out of him. So, Oswald's plan worked after all. The smelly idiot blatantly lied on the stand to get Penguin sentenced and unwittingly played right into his hand. Ridler couldn't wait until he sets up a nice trap for Giovanni in a couple of months, which will result in the gangster's 'unexpected fatal accident'. Dead men tell no tales, and Oswald needed the truth to stay hidden for now. Besides, the more disorganized free criminals become, the more manpower Penguin will eventually get inside prison walls.

Next, the prosecution called none other than Jim Gordon himself to take the stand. He was testifying as a character witness. 

"Commissioner Gordon, for how long do you know the defendant?" Dent asked. 

"For more than five years." 

"That's a long time. And with everything you've learned about the Penguin during the years, what can you tell us about him?" 

"He's ambitious, unyielding, ruthless, cunning, highly selfish, power-hungry, has no regard for human life. If Penguin wants something, he stops at nothing to get it," Gordon answered, not looking at Oswald. 

Ed balled his fists, pressing nails deep into his palms, hoping that momentary pain will distract him from boiling rage. All of these things were the very reasons Riddler loves his wicked bird, how dare this holier-than-thou hypocrite speak of them as flaws!

"Knowing the defendant, do you think he could kill Mayor Chang?" 

"Objection!" Ms. Diaz exclaimed and jumped from her seat. Oh, she's genuinely agitated if she started displaying emotions besides cold superiority. The only time Ed saw her truly riled up was when one of the cops at the precinct insisted on calling her by her first name, which she despised for some reason. He was worried for a second there that Oswald would lose his attorney because she'd get charged with the brutal murder of a police officer herself. 

"I'll rephrase," Dent held up a hand, not giving the judge a chance to speak. "Commissioner Gordon, according to your knowledge of the defendant's character, do you think he is capable of killing a person in cold blood or feat of rage if it suits his ambitions or desires?" 

"Objection, Your Honor," Ms. Diaz interrupted again, not even sitting back yet. "Asking for a lay witness to opine." Fair enough, but the policeman was only describing his perception of Oswald's character, not giving his opinion on the murder of Mayor and Penguin's involvement in it. No way Ms. Diaz will stop his answer from being voiced. 

The judge considered it. "Overruled," she decided at last. "Answer the question, Commissioner." 

"Yes, Mr. Cobblepot is fully capable of murder if it suits him," Gordon stated. It wasn't anything new for anyone, but the crowd still buzzed angrily. 

"No further questions, Your Honor," Dent smirked and sat at his table. 

"Your Honor, may I say something more?" Gordon asked suddenly. 

"You may," she allowed. Silence filled the courtroom, seemed like every nincompoop here held their breath waiting for their idol's bright speech. 

"As I said, I've known Oswald Cobblepot for years. We hadn't always seen eye to eye, ending up on different sides of the law more often than not. But I know this for sure: Mr. Cobblepot loves this city," he finally met Oswald's eyes and continued. "He always stood against Gotham's enemies when it really mattered. Despite our differences, we fought side by side on more than one occasion, protecting our city and people. I don't know what made him do what he did-... allegedly," he added when Ms. Diaz opened her mouth to object. "But I still believe Oswald can be a better man, do good for this city. So I ask the Court to give Mr. Cobblepot a chance to redeem himself; he is not the pure evil you might perceive him to be right now."

The whole courtroom remained silent after that for a long while. Oswald looked honestly shocked by that confession. He seemed at a loss and just gave a slight nod to Gordon's attempt to help. Ed huffed; he was less than impressed by the bastard's words. Commissioner didn't admit even half of what Oswald did for this cursed city, and the ungrateful swine himself. 

Later Oswald was called to take the stand, where he retold his version of that morning. It was probably the most truthful testimony he had ever given; Penguin didn't lie once. Oswald also appeared to be a peaceful, honest businessman concerned about his city's reconstruction and ready to spend his wealth to help the people. He didn't look like a monster who brutally murdered the poor woman. The jury seemed severely swayed from outright hatred towards him by the end of Ms. Diaz's questions. If they are left to decide on a sentence like this, they can actually consider the lack of solid proof of Penguin's guilt and the possibility of a setup rationally. They can even decide he's not guilty, and all that would be for nothing. Hopefully, Oswald sees it too and will do something nasty to turn them away.

Edward's worries were partially dissolved when Harvey Dent confidently stood up and approached the witness stand to take his turn at questioning the defendant. 

"Oswald, -" he paused under Penguin's hard glare. "May I call you Oswald?" 

Hah, what a ridiculous attempt to get through Penguin's armor of sarcasm and snarkiness. 

"No," Penguin snarled with a bitter smirk, leaning forward behind his stand.

Ed could see only one half of Dent's face, but there was something there… Something raging. Something primal. For a moment, he seemed ready to lunge at Oswald with his fists and teeth. But only for a moment. Then this unsettling presence in him disappeared without a trace; Harvey gave a small smile and a curt nod.

"Very well, Mr. Cobblepot," he continued in his polite manner. His hand subtly withdrew a silver coin from his pocket. "What were you doing that morning in the City Hall?"

"What morning?" Penguin innocently raised his brows. Ed snorted, as did a few other people present.

Dent's nostrils flared angrily, but his tone didn't change as his fingers played with the coin, skillfully rolling it back and forth between them. "The morning when Mayor Claire Chang was murdered."

"Came to talk to her, obviously," Oswald shrugged. "I had an appointment."

"Talk about what?" The lawyer's fingers rolled the coin more harshly and swiftly now. Ed waited for the moment he'd drop it, but it never happened.

"About business," Penguin answered, clearly having too much fun with trying to make his prosecutor snap. A vein pulsing on Harvey's forehead indicated his progress. 

"What business exactly?" he asked sharply. His fingers stopped playing with the coin, and he clenched it hard in his fist. 

"Objection, Your Honor. Relevance," Ms. Diaz intervened, and Dent seemed ready to kill when the judge sustained it and asked him the point of these questions. 

"The point is," Harvey snapped, but confused murmurs in the courtroom made him take a deep breath to compose himself before continuing calmly. "The point is showing the jury that the defendant had a strained relationship with the victim." 

Penguin scoffed. "Seriously? You could've just asked me instead of wasting everyone's time," he rolled his eyes with exasperation. 

Dent pursed his lips but asked in a flat tone. "What was your relationship with the victim?" 

"Spiteful," Oswald grunted. 

"Please, elaborate," Harvey gritted, apparently losing his cool again. Oswald's talent for pushing people's buttons when he wants to is totally unmatched. 

"What's there to elaborate?" Penguin huffed. "Everyone knows that woman was a few cards short of a full deck, to say the least," confused buzzing rose in the crowd, and Oswald rolled his eyes with exasperation. "I mean she was a moron!" he spat, not paying attention to his lawyer's desperate silent signals to stop. "Claire Chang was an incompetent fool, a worthless political piranha. Citizens of Gotham should rejoice that they won't have to suffer her idiocy any longer." 

"Silence in the court!" The judge had to use her gavel to stop the furious chaos that was the courtroom after those words. 

"Mr. Cobblepot, do you admit that you had hard feelings towards the victim? Perhaps even wanted her dead?" Dent asked, failing to hide his triumphant smirk completely. His fingers started skillfully rolling the coin back and forth once more. 

"It's obvious, is it not?" Oswald scoffed. "I didn't kill her, of course. She wasn't that important."

"But didn't she actively prevent you from running a business in Gotham? I have information confirming her numerous attempts to stop your club, Iceberg Lounge, from opening."

"That crooked hag was a pain in my back ever since she bought her place as Acting Mayor. I wasn't the only businessman who had to endure her glaring stupidity and stumble over her bureaucracy, but I received special treatment for firing Chang from the Office years ago so she wouldn't ruin my city when I was in charge of it. Whoever got rid of her has done the whole Gotham a huge favor," Oswald snarled, effectively confirming his passionate motive for the murder. 

"Thank you. No further questions," Harvey almost skipped back to his chair, flipping his coin into the air and catching it as he was sitting down. 

Ms. Diaz glared at Oswald all the way during his walk from the witness stand. She didn't seem devastated, though, but rather mildly irritated. Apparently, Oswald didn't warn her about his plan to lose this trial beforehand. 

After the short closing statements, the jury left the courtroom to decide Penguin's fate. They took their time; this wasn't an obvious verdict. Ed held his breath when the judge reappeared to pass the sentence. 

Evidently, Gordon's words and Oswald's good deeds did help, but, thankfully, Penguin's furious tirade about the late Mayor tipped the scales to the intended side. As expected, good old Occam's broom worked splendidly, and, despite the lack of hard proof, Penguin was found guilty. The Court sentenced Oswald Cobblepot to a minimum possible punishment for the brutal second-degree murder of a city official: fifteen years in the Blackgate Penitentiary without the right to parole or bail. 

Ed released the breath he was holding and returned Oswald's small smile. This was okay. Longer than he expected, but should be enough to build an indestructible empire. Perhaps, Penguin will even decide to end it earlier; the camera records can be 'accidentally' discovered any time he chooses, thus reopening the investigation and reestablishing Oswald Cobblepot as a free citizen, wrongfully accused by none other than Commissioner Gordon.

Edward knew the time without his beloved fiancé nearby will be nothing short of agonizing. But Riddler and Penguin will survive it; their love will keep them together no matter what. In the meantime, Riddler had plenty of things on his mind; he'll need to pass the time somehow, find distractions, goals, and opportunities. And the games he will play might just make his life apart from his beloved bird at least somewhat bearable. 

Oswald was led out of the courthouse, and it was the last time Ed had seen him in a long while.

Chapter Text

"Cobblepot, you got a visitor," a guard's bored voice drew Oswald's attention away from subtly eavesdropping on a conversation between two opposing gang members in the smoking area. He sighed, displeased at the loss of a potential bargaining chip. Oh well, he'll get it eventually. He always does.

Oswald put out his cheap cigarette and limped closer. "Who is it?" he asked, lifting his hands for the guard to lock in cuffs.

The guard only eyed him with mild irritation and nudged to move before him. Penguin huffed quietly. It's only been barely over five months since he got here, of course, he didn't expect all the guards — or anyone, for that matter — to show him respect or feel a proper level of fear yet. 

This time around, Oswald decided not to rush his rise back to power. Better to get everything out of his current position first: a fallen from grace ex-criminal, unimpressive, unimportant, and non-threatening has a priceless benefit of invisibility. Nobody could say Penguin never learned from his mistakes. He saw how overly arrogant and impatient he's become over the last years after he had the first proper taste of real power, commanding fear and respect from his throne. It's understandable why he tried to jump over five steps to get back there whenever he'd fallen down. Now it was time to rectify those mistakes. Penguin fully intended to use his previous experience at being small and underestimated to his strategic advantage. Temporarily swallowing his pride will be worth it in the end. And being confined on the lower-security wing allowed doing that with less danger to one's life.

At this point, it was crucial to gather as much information as possible. It was the key to victory here — not money, not physical strength, and not natural charisma. Information could buy you anything and get you anywhere. 

Besides, during the months of surviving almost alone with Ed and then working primarily in legit business, Penguin lost a lot of connections with the underworld, and not only material. Unfortunately, his own tether to the criminal mentality got weaker: he could barely feel the flows of power and shifting loyalties — something he used to pick up in mere seconds. But by being here for the last five months and surviving among common criminals once again, Oswald got back on track splendidly. With just one glance, he could predict an inmate's loyalty, reliability, affiliations, and potentials. Soon he will be ready to step up his game, but for now, Penguin watched and waited, slowly and quietly building small alliances. 

Most importantly, even without a higher class of criminals around, he could already see the vector of future underworld development. The old order was broken beyond repair. Criminal families, dons, strict hierarchy, and a semblance of honor inside mafia were the things of the past. Even on the Low-security wing Oswald already feels the subtle changes in the underworld; it's like a shift in the atmosphere before the storm. As much as his power-hungry ego loathes to admit it, there might never be a sole King or Queen of Gotham anymore. The underworld is too diversified, multifaceted, and promiscuous to follow a single ruler. Especially after the crazy year of anarchy and chaos, even common criminals embraced that unique sort of Gotham's madness; they're now picking leaders more vivid and striking, more freaky, even, than a classic Mafiosi. Those who can't change and adapt will surely remain on the backstage to drown and be forgotten. 

Thankfully, the Penguin is quite a memorable and versatile entity. He is also hardly a conservative person — he did break the system himself at least twice: when he overthrew the old dons regime and then implemented his Pax Penguina. Now he is almost excited about witnessing the rise of a whole new generation of criminals, those bright individuals who can gather enough followers around them to present a formidable threat. And Penguin will catch the tide, adapt to rise among and above them here, in Blackgate, which now resembles a giant malicious anthill. There may never be a single ruler, but Penguin shall make sure to use his incarceration and become the most prominent of the people in power. A force to be reckoned with, a kingpin to bow to, impossible to overthrow and stomp down ever again.

Ironically, it was Jim who helped Oswald have a steady start here. Despite the severe sentence, he gave the order to admit Penguin into the general population wing with lower security, where less dangerous criminals are held: thieves, corrupt officials, small band members, drug dealers, muggers, random murderers. Presumably, Jim even made sure Oswald was placed into a two-person cell to share with a seventy-year-old crooked judge. Thankfully, this block of Blackgate had been restored not long before Oswald's arrest when the maximum-security wing was bursting and nearly impossible to control. It's much better to start from here, to understand the flow, establish necessary connections, restore his reputation, find loyal enough followers, and build a solid foundation for Penguin's future throne. Getting into maximum-security will be easy enough at any time he chooses. 

The door lock buzzed, pulling Oswald out of his thoughts and allowing him and his escorting guard an entrance to the visitation room. Penguin paused his steps when he saw the visitor. Jim Gordon himself decided to descend here from his high seat.

"Keep movin', inmate," the guard behind Oswald grunted and shoved his shoulder harder than before.

"It's fine, thank you. You can leave us for now," Commissioner ordered and rose up from the chair.

"Yessir," the guard answered before leaving. The door lock clicked shut behind him.

Oswald locked eyes with his 'visitor' and studied him, not moving an inch.

"Oswald," Jim greeted awkwardly with a slight nod. It reminded Penguin of a naive detective who used to come to his club asking for a favor, knowing it was wrong but hoping to crawl out from the dirt clean.

"Commissioner," Penguin gritted through his teeth. 

He didn't have to pretend to be mad at Jim, the feeling was honest. Even Gordon's rousing speech at the witness stand didn't diminish the fact that once again, he saw only the worst in Penguin and didn't hesitate to lock him up like a rabid animal. Oswald didn't know what he was hoping for, but the way Gordon was instantly convinced of his guilt even before the investigation did hurt him, much more than he anticipated. 

Jim braced the back of his chair harder, otherwise not showing his uneasiness. He no doubt was observing Penguin's fresh black eye and slowly healing bruises. Sometimes Oswald was glad he wasn't allowed to wear a monocle here; his eye most certainly wouldn't survive another set of sharp foreign objects stuck in it.  

"How are you doing in here?" Commissioner had the audacity to ask.

If Penguin had a gun, Jim would lie dead with his brains and blood finally bringing color to the bland grey walls. Alas, he didn't have such an easy way to let out the suffocating rage that wrapped its hand around his throat at the question.

"You dare ask me that, Gordon?" he uttered in a grave voice, slowly limping closer to the table. "After everything that I've done for you, for this city, you lock me up on false allegations, take away my freedom with your trumped-up charges for the third time! After every favor I did never asking for anything in return, you didn't think twice before throwing me to rot inside this CAGE!" Penguin screamed and slammed his fists on the metal table; his handcuffs rattled at the movement. He glowered at Commissioner's stone-hard face and wished he could strangle the bastard with Gordon's own boring tie.

Sudden pain shooting through his already bruised knuckles helped him focus and play the role he's supposed to. Oswald forced his scowl to transform into a venomous grin. "I'm doing just peachy here, old friend," he drawled, almost choking on his own viscous sarcasm. "What brings you to this fine establishment? Came to check in on me? I'm flattered." 

Penguin lowered himself on a metal chair pinned to the floor and assumed a relaxed position, hiding hands under the table, creating visibility of being a host accepting his guest here.

Jim released a long sigh and sat as well, his hands resting on the metal surface between them. That's interesting. Oswald just gave the man an easy way to loom over him physically, to brandish his dominance and superiority. Yet, Gordon refused to take this non-verbal advantage and came down to Oswald's eye level, pretending to be equals. He wants something. That's just laughable.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Oswald," Jim uttered somewhat mechanically, like reciting words from a script. He wasn't sincerely sorry; he wanted to soften up to Penguin. Oswald pondered if he should play along or try and scratch the cop's eyes out instead. "I wanted to believe in your innocence, I really did." 

No, Jim, you didn't, you never even tried,  Oswald thought. He huffed, otherwise remaining silent. He didn't know how to completely cut out that tiny part of himself that still got hurt by Jim seeing him as nothing but a monster or a tool for desperate times.

"But the trial was fair, the evidence solid. I did everything in my power to make it easier for you," Gordon insisted. Oh, vague threats now. He means he can make Oswald's life hell here if he doesn't help with something that's bothering the cop. That's even more infuriating than his blatant lies about being sorry. 

"Why are you here?" Penguin demanded harshly, more than fed up with Commissioner's feeble attempts at a semi-friendly interaction.

Jim pursed his lips in a tight line. "I need information."

Penguin didn't bother restraining from hysterical laughter that echoed on the cold stone walls of the room. Jim clenched his jaw and gave a small sigh.

"Oh, Jim," Oswald drawled through his giggles. "This dull place has so very few reasons to have a good laugh. That is until you showed up," he cackled, unable to stop the release of pent up emotions. Better this than malicious words he would've spat otherwise, potentially blowing his cover.

"Oswald, you're not a lunatic in Arkham, stop acting like one," Jim scolded, frowning. 

"If memory serves, old friend, getting information for you was my exact proposal you had rebuked, quite harshly, I might add," Oswald reminded after his laughter abruptly died. "A lot has changed since then. What makes you think that offer hadn't expired years ago?" 

"I don't need you to snitch on inmates. I'm looking for your friend." 

Penguin huffed. "I don't have many of those. Fine, I'm listening. Who do you want?"

"Where is Nygma?" Gordon asked head-on.

It was all Oswald could do to not give in to the mind-numbing panic that knotted in the pit of his stomach at that question. Why do they want Ed? Did he do something? Or is he missing? Is he in danger?

"Not here," he forced a mocking grin and a shrug despite the hair rising on the back of his neck at the mere thought of something terrible happening to his beloved Edward.

"Don't make this hard, Oswald," Jim warned, leaning forward in his seat. "The faster we find him, the less chance he'll hurt more people, or himself."

Oh, so Ed did do something and is now wanted by the GCPD. That's something. Hardly surprising, really. Perhaps he actually went through with the idea he described to Penguin when they last met. Oswald subtly released the breath that was painfully stuck in his throat before. 

"Who did he hurt already?"

Commissioner sighed, reluctant to give away classified information, but having no other choice. "Reporters. Five found dead, four were rescued, and three more are missing."

"What would Ed want with reporters? Why do you think it's him?"

"Some victims have been found electrified, bled out, or otherwise executed on what looked like some twisted quiz game scene. Those who lived claim that they were forced to scratch riddles about lies and slander on their own bodies with sharp pencils. Among other insane monstrosities."

Oh, that's definitely Riddler, no one else would be so devilishly creative. 

Gordon fixed Oswald with a hard stare. "All the dead, injured, and missing reporters wrote or said spiteful speeches about your arrest," he revealed, almost accusing Penguin with his glare.

Oswald couldn't help the cruel smirk playing on his lips. Riddler clearly had a fun time and decided to add a bit of sweet revenge to spice things up. It was so wickedly romantic! Oswald could vividly imagine how his lover's delicious lips would stretch into a toothy grin as his victims desperately tried to find a way to save their pitiful lives and failed. Each unfortunate fool further confirming Edward's superior wits and boosting his glowing ego. The only thing Oswald regretted is that he couldn't witness his marvelous partner's glory. And tease him for his corny dramatics, of course.

"You find it funny?!" Jim growled with disgust twisting his features. 

"A little bit, yes," Penguin admitted with a chuckle. "That wasn't in the news. Don't want to frighten the public with big bad Riddler?" he mocked. "Or reporters willingly decided to write about cold weather and another bridge construction instead? Who knew it was that easy to shut them up." 

"Where is he, Oswald?" Gordon insisted impatiently, ignoring his taunting. 

"How would  I  know?" Oswald bristled and lifted his cuffed hands for emphasis. "I haven't seen Ed since the trial, and you, of all people, should know it. After all, it was our holy Commissioner that forbade him from coming ten miles radius to this place," he added bitterly. They were ready for it, but this attitude hurt Oswald. Not as much as being apart from Edward, but still. "What, he forgot to send you some clues, or did you simply fail to solve them?" he huffed, taking pleasure in how Gordon winced slightly.

"You have to know something. An address, an associate — anything," Jim demanded. "You were inseparable for the last year. I refuse to believe you don't have at least some idea where he might be hiding or what he plans." 

Penguin rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "Jim, whatever you might think, I don't have my friend followed all around the city. I gave him a room in my mansion, but I imagine you've already checked there," he didn't miss the way Gordon frowned a bit. 

Probably Olga was less than impressed by his visit. Oswald wondered if she restrained from pointing a shotgun in his face; the woman grew rather attached to the weapon once she learned how to use it. Even without the firearms, she, no doubt, assaulted the policeman with her attitude. Jim is definitely a bit more fluent in Russian swear words after that encounter. 

"Either way, I don't see a single reason why I would help you even if I knew anything. You can't threaten me into betraying my friend; I suggest you don't waste your time trying."

"Even if you would be saving his life?" 

Penguin tensed. "I beg your pardon?" 

"I'm giving a shoot to kill order today," Commissioner stated and cut Oswald's heart in half with his words. 

He prayed that his face didn't give away the twisting turmoil scattering his thoughts around. His handcuff chains clinked, and he had to focus on stopping all his limbs from trembling. 

"You threaten me with his life?" Penguin uttered lowly, feeling the feral growl itching from within his throat. 

"No, I'm giving you a chance to save it," Gordon shrugged, relaxing back on his chair. "I won't have to give that order if you help us catch him by surprise and take him in quietly." 

Oswald was inwardly shaking from the mind-numbing mix of fear for Riddler's life and fury at Gordon's audacity. Penguin can't let them hurt Ed; he has to do something. Make Edward stop and lay low perhaps. Or divert his attention to some other matters, if possible. All of that would be selfish of him and unfair to Riddler, but it'll be worth it if it keeps him alive.

"No one else has to die, Oswald. Tell me where we can find Ed, and I'll do everything in my power to take him alive. He'll get himself killed otherwise. You know him." 

Yes. That's right. Oswald does know Ed. His beloved fiance is one of the most arrogant and prideful people; he won't go down without a fight. But Oswald also knows that Riddler's games have a purpose, an end goal, a question mark at the end of 'who am I'. He will suffer if he leaves the riddle half untold, Riddler has to see it play out as it's supposed to, he can't help it really. So if Penguin buys him some time, he might finish what he started, and be free to hide for good, lay low until the dust settles and his next game begins. 

Edward believed in Oswald's power to survive and seize control over Blackgate; he helped without once questioning his abilities. Now it's Penguin's turn to be a supportive partner. 

He rubbed his face with his palms, wincing at disturbed bruises. "You have to promise me, Jim," he demanded, locking eyes with Commissioner. "Swear to me you won't give that order if I help you. Ed must not be harmed." 

Jim visibly relaxed and nodded. "Of course. I'll to do everything I can to take him without casualties, I promise." 

Oh, that's highly unlikely. There will be casualties, just not the kind he means. Penguin resisted the urge to snicker and released a deep sigh instead. 

"I don't know where he is, obviously," he rattled the handcuffs as a reminder. "But I know about one of his hideouts. Now, I've never been to the place; I'm not even supposed to know it exists. I can't give you the exact location, but it's an apartment registered under the name of John Spilsbury." 

"Inventor of jigsaw puzzles?" Jim arched an eyebrow. 

Oswald rolled his eyes and nodded. He did warn Edward that it wasn't an uncommon knowledge. But his partner's quirks might actually do them a favor this time: at least Jim won't suspect Oswald in sending him on a wild goose chase, which he does. 

Gordon sighed. "It's not much to go on, Oswald. Do you know the district, at least? There could be several places under that name in Gotham." 

There is. Seven, to be exact. Three of them belong to the Riddler, two of which created as decoys and existed only on paper, but it won't be possible to learn without visiting the buildings. And the right one recorded with a mistake: it has two 'l' in the owner's last name. Hopefully, it'll give a few hours to get other things in order. 

"It's more than you had before, isn't it, Jim?"

"Sure," he muttered and rose up from the chair. "Thank you, Oswald. You did the right thing." 

"I didn't do it for you, Commissioner," he bristled, playing his part. "Remember your promise." 

Jim answered with a curt nod and walked to the exit door but turned back right before leaving the room.

"Mr. Giovanni had a fatal accident about two months ago. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it?"

"I know that the only person who could attest my innocence is now dead," Penguin muttered bitterly. "Whoever framed me got what they wanted. If Giovanni was behind this then I'm starting to believe in karma."

"You're still insisting you were framed?" Jim huffed. "We both know Giovanni wasn't that cunning. The only person capable of such schemes is Nygma. You didn't piss him off again, did you?" Gordon asked, clearly not meaning it as a serious suggestion and not suspecting just how close he was to the truth.

"You can joke all you want and live happily, for now, Commissioner," Penguin uttered in a grave tone, slowly rising from his chair. "But don't even for a fraction of a second hope that I'll ever forget or forgive you for what you did to me," he promised coldly, propping his hands on the metal table and leaning forward, glaring at the cop with all the bitter hatred he could muster. And there was plenty.

Gordon gave a slight shake of his head before leaving Oswald alone in the room without saying anything else. 

—☂—

Ten minutes later, Oswald was talking to his lawyer on the phone. She was the only person even Commissioner couldn't legally prevent from contacting Penguin, and recording their conversations was strictly prohibited. Ms. Diaz turned out to be an invaluable employee: her brilliance and ambitions made her a great accomplice, while her vast family depending on her, gave the young woman another reason to stay silent and cooperate. Not like she ever fancied going against Penguin. In fact, Ms. Diaz was the one who reached out to him when he fired the appointed public defender, not even bothering to speak with whoever that was. Ms. Diaz knew perfectly well who she was going to work with, and did everything with exceptional precision and without unnecessary questions. On some level, she reminded Oswald of Ed when he was his Chief of staff: organized, calculating, and discreet. 

After Penguin's obvious snap at the courthouse, Ms. Diaz quickly put two and two together but didn't confront him about it directly. Instead, she subtly hinted that she's smart enough to know how to keep her mouth shut, and might do a better job if she's not kept in the dark next time. Penguin couldn't ask for a better employee at this point. Perhaps in the future, she'll gain his trust and become a more informed assistant in both legal and less legal matters. The young woman certainly has the potential. Time will tell.

"Speak with Olga, say the code phrase, get further instructions. Understood," she confirmed, and Oswald finally breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you, Ms. Diaz. I knew I could count on you." 

"I have a relatively good idea how this venture will proceed on my part," she gave a small sigh. "I really should charge you extra for it all," it was impossible to tell by her flat tone if the woman was joking or being serious. Not like her impassive expression could've said anything either if they were speaking eye-to-eye. Sometimes Oswald wondered if Ms. Diaz was indeed a robot he heard her colleagues and cops regarding her behind her back. 

"You already do," Penguin huffed. "And I pay you a bonus extra." 

"Fair enough. I'll get on to it. Goodbye, Mr. Cobblepot." 

"Good luck, Ms. Diaz." 

Well, that's all he could do for Edward at the moment. Ms. Diaz will pass along his warning, Olga knows how to get it to Riddler. She will also send the lawyer on some quest around the city because no doubt the GCPD will tail her and waste time checking every corner she turns. That quest will end with a free VIP meal at the Iceberg Lounge Ms. Diaz can share with whomever she decides to invite. Ed will decide what to do with the impending visit himself.

—☂—

News traveled fast in Gotham, despite it being a big city. Blackgate Penitentiary was a much smaller world, and stories liberally peppered with rumors and speculations usually were passed around more quickly than people walked through its cold corridors. 

"So. What'd you and your cop buddy chattered about, huh?" 

Oswald lifted his head from studying the contents of his lunch tray to look at the owner of the gruff voice, who took a seat across him. Larry Umbrick, preferring to be called Brickface: one of the most notable remaining leaders of the Street Demonz biker gang. They are mostly scattered around Gotham now, or locked up in here. The name Brickface suited him: the man clearly shared his charms and brain cells with the object. Unfortunately, he also hit like a brick, as Oswald's ribs learned during the first days after his arrival in this place. It was merely a warning to stay down and don't even think about challenging Brickface, who runs things in the general population wing of Blackgate. Not surprising, he hardly has any competition here. 

"Sang your songs for your dear police daddy?" another low voice rasped above him, sending a wave of foul breath that made him sick probably even more than those dirty words did. 

"You know what happens to snitches, pretty bird," a third voice bellowed, and a calloused hand gripped the back of his neck. It was all Penguin could do to stay put and endure the disgusting contact. 

"I-I assure you, Mr. Brickface, our conversation had nothing to do with Blackgate and people in here," Oswald stuttered, trying to look intimidated and not meeting the biker's gaze. 

Apparently, his charade worked, as Brickface smirked condescendingly and motioned his men to sit by Oswald's sides. They lowered themselves too close on the bench and crowded him, which wasn't hard considering their bulky frames. Penguin curled in on himself to seem even more small and unimpressive. 

"If I suspect you snitching on me to the pigs, I'll make a new leather jacket with your skin. You got it?" he growled. 

"Y-yes, of course, Mr. Brickface, I would never, I swear," Oswald pleaded. 

"Don't fuck with me, birdman. Or my boys fuck with you," the threat was followed by his 'boys' snickering. "And ya'aint gonna like it." 

"But we will," another whiff of foul breath from one side and a boorish hand clasping his thigh from the other. 

Oswald bit his tongue to stay silent, squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded rapidly. Soon the trio left, taking most of his food with them and dumping more crude comments. Penguin desperately wanted to take a shower after that interaction. 

Perhaps it's time he considered getting a few more capable and loyal allies here. It might risk making him seem like more of a threat, but at least he won't be alone in case of a real problem with other inmates. 

Penguin looked around the dining room. During weeks of preparation for Blackgate, he and Ed had started to gather as much information as they could in advance. When Oswald got here, he already knew who and what to expect; he was aware of almost all prisoners, at least ones sentenced after the reunification. He spotted a guy that might fit his needs. Huge, with tattooed arms thicker than Oswald's legs. Jason Parker, convicted for murder. He did kill a man, but only to protect his younger brother, who got messed with drug dealers, which presented a perfect pressure point. 

"Hello. May I?" Oswald approached and pointed at the bench opposite the man. 

Jason only grunted in response, chewing on his overcooked chop of meat. 

"I'll take it as a yes," he smiled and lowered himself, placing his tray on the table. "My name is Oswald Cobblepot and I-" 

"I know who you are, Penguin," Jason grunted with food still in his mouth. Gross, but typical. "What'd you want?" 

"I want to offer you a mutually beneficial partnership," Oswald stated smugly. Jason eyed him skeptically and returned to his food. "Don't brush away someone who might help your younger brother greatly, my friend." 

"What'd you say about my brother?" he bellowed, rising from his seat. "How'd you know him?" 

"I said I could help him," Oswald repeated calmly, not even batting an eye at the man's impressive frame looming over him across the metal table. This wasn't a time to feign weakness; quite the opposite. "I know the circumstances of your incarceration were less than fair to you and your already struggling family." 

"Hmph. Speak," Jason huffed, sitting and picking up his discarded spork to stuff some mashed potato into his mouth. 

"I have money and connections outside of this place. I can pay your brother's debts, and even get him into college, give him a chance for a brighter future. He won't have to look for money in drug trade ever again," he noted how Jason's eyes lit up with hope. "So you see, I can help your brother out there. In exchange, you can help me in here." 

"And what if I say no?" Jason muttered suspiciously. He probably expected Penguin to threaten him. No, that would be most unwise, possibly even fatal. 

"Then I'll leave you alone and try to make friends with someone else," Oswald shrugged and threw one corn kernel into his mouth. 

Jason didn't ponder it for too long. "Alright. What you need me to do?" 

"Nothing yet. I just want to make sure I have a trusted friend by my side in case I encounter enemies here."

Later that day, Oswald called Ms. Diaz and asked her to make all the necessary arrangements. His new ally Jason almost hugged him after he met his little brother, who busted into the visitation room shining with excitement and hopefulness. Good, Penguin will need loyal protectors by his side later.

—☂—

'RIDDLER RIDDLED WITH CHARGES'  a disgustingly tasteless title on the front page of 'the Gazette' stated. Under it — a picture of handcuffed Edward being led through the GCPD by none other than Gordon himself, who looked rather grim. Ed seemed tired and battered, with dark circles under his eyes, but a cruel grin was playing on his lips, baring his white teeth. Oswald ran his eyes over the article, not bothered by the slight wind in the yard shuffling the pages. 

'Edward Nygma, calling himself the Riddler, was finally apprehended by the GCPD. He was charged with multiple murders, torture, theft, and destruction of property. Even a non-specialist could tell the man is completely insane. He was admitted into Arkham Asylum for an unspecified amount of time to receive necessary treatment.' 

"Damn it, Ed," Oswald muttered under his breath. A sharp lump in his throat made his eyes tingle with approaching tears. He bit his lip and kept reading. 

'Edward Nygma was considered a war hero, protector of Gotham. He was granted a full pardon, but time has shown what a big mistake it was to forgive a madman's crimes. Not even half a year later, he snapped and started a long line of terror that took the lives of many fellow citizens. It all started with an explosion of the recently reopened Main Public Library.'

Oswald snorted, amused despite the overall awful news. Until their last chat right before the trial, he didn't think there was any real intention behind Edward's passing joke about blowing up that cursed place where his clone girlfriend used to brainwash him. There were no human casualties: the GCPD evacuated all the visitors before the explosion. Oswald was pretty sure that Riddler also gave a chance to disarm the bomb, but it didn't happen for some reason. According to the article, he also blew up that fateful wine shop that miraculously survived the war. Her apartment building was already in ruins, though.

Ed also finally got into that museum he was trying to rob before they began working on Penguin's plan. That snake statue he wanted was gone already, but Edward found some substitutes, replacing them with green-colored replicas.

'Another string of blood-freezing crimes followed when Riddler kidnapped, tortured, and brutally murdered eight of our fellow reporters. Seven more people managed to survive that horror and are now recovering in the hospital, healing both physical and mental wounds. This information was confidential during the investigation, but now we can properly mourn the loss of our colleagues and tell you about the circumstances of their gruesome deaths and traumas.'

As Jim told him over a month ago, all reporters in question wrote less than flattering things about Penguin, proclaiming the day of his arrest a national celebration. It turns out that most of them teamed up with a few political activists Ed also included in his list of fifteen people. They all tried to rile up the public into signing a petition and make the government prolong his incarceration; fifteen years seemed like a too easy punishment. Predictably, Riddler's actions put a solid end to those discussions. All fear and hatred in the hearts of Gotham's people shifted from Penguin to Riddler, along with all the attention, which Ed obviously wanted.

The article speculated if the combined number of Ed's victims — dead and survived — was directly connected to the fifteen years of Penguin's sentence or was only a coincidence. Oswald scoffed as he read that: nothing in Edward's actions was ever a mere random coincidence. Everything was connected to something, clues leading to other clues, and all ultimately spiraling to reveal the real answer. 

Riddler didn't resist the arrest. Quite the opposite: he denied GCPD the satisfaction by willingly surrendering himself into police custody. Oswald wanted to scream out loud at Edward's recklessness until he read further and felt his insides turn in horror. Apparently, Riddler was shot in the process of dealing with his last two victims and barely escaped the scene. One day later, he showed up at the GCPD with hands held high above his head and a smugly satisfied grin lighting his face, as the second picture demonstrated. Well, at least he'll get medical attention in Arkham. Hopefully, only his physical wounds will be treated, Oswald thought and shivered at the memory of his 'therapy' inside that place. His trembling fingers traced the black and white image of his partner as he struggled to control his breathing. 

"So, your fuck buddy got busted, huh," a mocking voice behind him snorted, and a hand harshly tore the newspaper from his grasp. "Fuckin' finally, they'll scramble his psycho brains in Arkham."

Oswald gritted his teeth but remained silent. He didn't even need to look at the bastard to know it was Spencer Pierce, one of the senior guards in this wing. He sure was a difficult one. 

During the thorough preparation for the Blackgate, Oswald was memorizing not only inmates' biographies but also the facts about the staff here. Penguin knew all about most of the guards: their schedules, their bribery susceptibility, what they liked, who their family members were, where they were taking their kids to school and who their spouses' parents were. He couldn't actually do anything with any of them. Not yet. But even having that kind of information was invaluable. It was outright scary for unprepared guards to hear how much a notorious inmate knew about their personal life. It made them believe that the Penguin could also control what happens to said life. 

This time Oswald was also smarter about it. He never asked for too much. Nothing that would be worse than telling everything to the Commissioner and risking Penguin's revenge. It created an illusion that being on his good side was fine: as long as you don't anger the Penguin, your family is safe, and this doesn't even jeopardize your job too much. Bringing a pack of cigarettes or cutting him some slack on working hours was well worth the small pieces of intel Oswald carefully fed to those who wished to cooperate. Penguin wasn't a stranger to snitching, after all. He was also cautious not to get tangled with lawful do-gooders like Jim Gordon anymore. Only trouble from his kind. Their blind righteousness never allows them to see past their own noses, and prideful arrogance doesn't tolerate any other point of view into their little perfect world. 

To run things even safer, Oswald tried to keep all his 'allies' in the dark about others on his side when it was possible. It will prevent them from teaming up against him and causing trouble. He was the only one who knew all strings connecting the parts of his operations. He'll try never to make the same mistake he did with entrusting too much information solely to Mr. Penn. The only irreplaceable and aware person in his web should be Penguin himself. 

Naturally, this kind of power over even just a few guards, however small it was for now, drew some prisoners to Penguin's side. Over the first months of his confinement, Oswald noticed the more insecure lone inmates trying to flock closer to him, to get in his good graces and be protected from the stronger gangs. They flew like moths to the flame, not realizing that almost all his power was based on a bluff. Oswald brushed off the most useless ones and carefully selected the more capable, all the while keeping his head as low as possible. He was careful to not become too much of a threat to other forces around here; it was too soon to start any wars. 

"They should'a just killed him," Pierce continued his gloating to try and provoke him. Penguin had to bite the inside of his cheek to stay silent. He won't give this moron the satisfaction of another 'justified' beating.

Spencer Pierce was one of the guards who made things too inconvenient for Penguin. He was regularly assaulting him physically and verbally, outright abusing his position of power. Oswald tried to reason with the man because Pierce was in no way a good incorruptible cop, but each attempt not only failed but made things worse. He wasn't interested in Penguin's money, and threats only angered him. Pierce was a typical bully. He took pleasure in brutally showing off his superiority at other's expense. 

"I'm talking to you, birdbrain," Pierce's voice thundered over the whole yard, drawing dozens of gazes from inmates and guards alike. Next was his heavy boot connecting with Oswald's back and roughly pushing him from his bench face-first into dirty-grey sand. 

Penguin gritted his teeth and held breath as long as he could to keep himself in tow. Snorts, mocking giggles, and whistling from different parts of the yard reached his ears, and Oswald clenched his eyes shut to at least be safe from accidentally locking gazes with gloating faces all around him. Penguin wasn't used to humiliation and indignity anymore; his pride was too well-fed during the last years. He had to learn to tame it again — it's essential to survive in this place until he gains a proper power. 

Yes, Pierce currently presents a real problem for Penguin by undermining his authority with regular public humiliations and beatings. But, as Oswald prefers to think, problems are just opportunities that haven't presented themselves. Penguin will find a way to turn it in his favor eventually. 

"Answer when spoken to, inmate," Pierce's growl was followed by him kicking Oswald's bad leg when he tried to get up. Penguin couldn't bite back the pathetic pained yelp that escaped without his permission as the sudden sharp pain shot through his twisted ankle, and he collapsed back on the ground. 

"You didn't ask anything, Officer Pierce," Penguin muttered, and apparently made a mistake as the next second he was harshly hauled to stand on his knees and forced to look up at the bastard's grimace. Oswald bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming from the searing pain spreading like liquid fire in his hurt leg. 

"I said your psycho boy-toy got his ass kicked straight to Arkham. How you feel about it, huh?" he snarled, holding Oswald upright with one hand fisted in the lapels of his uniform. 

"Conflicted," he spat vaguely. It wasn't very wise to act anything but intimidated right now. But the news of Edward's injury and arrest, this moron Pierce manhandling and humiliating Penguin in front of everybody, the throbbing pain in his leg, the awfully annoying difference of sight in his two eyes not balanced by a monocle — all of that was just too much. Oswald was too overwhelmed by that to focus on keeping his agonizing pride at bay any longer. "And he's neither a psycho nor my boy-toy." 

Unsurprisingly, speaking back earned him a solid punch in the face that made his vision darken as he fell on the ground for the third time, this time hitting his back on the rough sand. Pierce didn't have a very bulky constitution or too developed musculature, but he sure could land a punch. Although he usually used his baton or legs. In the back of his mind, Oswald wondered what was different this time. 

"Don't play smartass with me, Cobblepot," Pierce spat. He seemed genuinely mad, not just enjoying his power as he usually is. "I'm conflicted too. Dunno if I should go to Arkham and beat that green bitch to death myself or ask someone there to add a few extra doses to his meds. His fuckin' brains are a waste anyway!" 

Oswald remained silent. Otherwise, his mouth would've released a shrill screech of pure fury bubbling inside him now, clawing at his throat and preventing air from flowing. He distantly noted how his palms hurt from his poorly cut nails digging deep into the skin. The feeling didn't bring even a little distraction from the blinding rage. 

"How'd you like that, huh? Still conflicted about your skinny bedwarmer turning into vegetable to drool next to fuckin' Jeremiah Valeska?" 

The worst part is, Oswald couldn't help but imagine what that wretched brute described. The coppery taste of his own blood from how hard he bit on the inside of his cheek didn't grant so much-needed relief from pent up seething rage. 

"That's what he deserves," Pierce continued, circling around spattered on the ground Oswald. "For killing our boys from the GCPD," his outrage was punctuated by his heavy boot crashing into Oswald's kidneys. He rolled onto the hurt side, doubling down in sharp ache. 

That pain was enough to pull Penguin from his boiling rage, and he was coherent enough to comprehend the meaning of Pierce's words. Wow. So Edward decided to not only clear out from that hideout but also prepared a surprise for whoever came to arrest him. Probably sent them on a scavenger hunt with a few clues that eventually led them into a deathtrap. That's so Riddler, Oswald wanted to smile, but the situation was hardly appropriate, and he needed to get more information. 

Jim probably forbade the press from disclosing that incident. Not surprising: that's a pretty shameful episode for the GCPD — to fall into a trap set by one criminal after being pointed there by another. This situation also showed how much more work Penguin's network needs. He should've learned about this right when it happened, but nobody reported him how Commissioner's visit to 'John Spilsbury's' apartment went and what occurred next. 

"I-I didn't know about it!" he stammered, not raising his gaze higher that Pierce's puffed chest. "W-What happened?" 

"I'll tell you what happened, you fucking slime," Pierce roared, straddling Oswald and hauling his upper body up from the ground by a hand once again grasping his uniform. 

At this point, Penguin tried to fight back. After failed attempts to dislodge the guard's fist from his uniform or push him off, Oswald took a desperate swing. He was gratified at the sight of blood on Perce's split lip, and the shocked outrage on his face. Unfortunately, Oswald's joy was short-lived as the next second, the guard's other fist landed hard on his face, and Pierce let him fall on the ground before yanking him up again.

With peripheral vision, Penguin saw Jason and a few more of his associates trying to approach, but other guards stopped them. 

"Your sick fucker left some shitty puzzles. Thinks he's so fucking smart for luring people to their death," Pierce's gloved fist plunged onto Oswald's chest twice and once on his face during that statement. Penguin distantly noted blood slowly filling his mouth. He didn't know where exactly he was bleeding. He tried to shield himself and clawed at the limb holding him, but strength was rapidly leaving him.

"Blown four guys to fuckin' pieces," another punch, this one in the jaw. Oswald prayed his teeth endured the damage, but he couldn't be sure. The back of his head hit the ground, but he barely registered the impact, too focused on staying conscious and listening to the guard's outrage. He tried to will his hands to shield his face, but they didn't comply, something was holding them down. Perhaps Pierce's knees pinned them. Or not, Penguin couldn't tell at this point; his world seemed shaken and blurry. 

"Another five he put in a hospital," his fist hit Oswald in the ribs and punched the air from his lungs. Is it his blood that splattered on Pierce's face? Seems so. "Detective Bullock among them," two more blows almost turned Oswald's world black. One landed on his face — a promise of another black eye for weeks to come. The second — on his stomach. He distantly wondered if pained wheezing was coming from him or he imagined it. Penguin tried hard to make no sound. 

"Doctors still don't know if he'll make it," a hand wrapped around his throat, and Oswald's head was once again lifted from the ground. "Don't worry. They won't doubt 'bout you," was snarled hoarsely in Penguin's face as the pressure on his neck hardened, cutting off the air completely. 

"Spence! That's enough. Da fuck you doin'?!" On the edge of consciousness, Oswald heard another voice, so muffled like he was underwater. 

"Squeezing a fuckin' bug," a distant yet so close voice above him grunted. The last coherent thought Oswald had was that Pierce must die at least for daring to call him that. 

Then all his world darkened, and together with the pain, everything faded to black. 

—☂—

Oswald's first thought after waking up in the prison infirmary echoed that last one. Spencer Pierce will die, and probably sooner than Penguin previously planned. He was becoming too much of a nuisance to keep alive. Despite how painful it was to form and distinguish thoughts, Oswald forced himself to analyze what he had learned before losing consciousness. 

First of all, Riddler got himself into trouble in the end. There's no telling what he's going to endure in that hellhole. Oswald wasn't worried about Pierce's threats to Ed: if the guard could indeed do what he said, he wouldn't have to release his frustration on Penguin. Still, doctors in Arkham could be up to anything; even without Professor Strange, there were plenty twisted 'professionals'. Even more harm can come from inmates. Especially one in particular: Jervis Tetch, who might still hold a grudge on Riddler for kidnapping and trading him for Penguin. 

Oswald will need someone to get into Arkham and make sure Ed is not in too much danger until he can find a way to get him out. Perhaps Cat could help him, or Catwoman, as she now prefers to be called. Penguin didn't think they would ever move past Tabitha's demise, but Selina changed radically over the last few months. She never was an overly sentimental type. Still, after Bruce Wayne left Gotham, she became downright cold and cynical, everyone could see how abruptly and harshly she shut everyone out, tolerating only business interactions. Oswald felt some level of sympathy for the young woman: it was obvious how hard it always was for her to open up sincerely, and one of her only friend's sudden departure surely left a mark on her heart. Rumors said the boy billionaire didn't even say goodbye to her in person, merely dropping a letter in the GCPD. Nevertheless, it was convenient for Penguin: Miss Kyle is an excellent partner and a professional thief, her skills are highly valued and will be useful more than once in the future since she doesn't care about revenge for 'friends' anymore. She claims that she has none of those, so that's a relief. 

The second concern on Penguin's agonizing mind was dealing with Pierce. Oswald couldn't tolerate his bullying for the sake of keeping a low profile any longer. For more than half a year, he endured it at the cost of his reputation, bruises, and hurt pride. But this is getting out of hand now; Pierce needs to be made an example of. 

Then there was the Harvey Bullock issue. Apparently, any glimmer of hope for a partnership with the Commissioner vanished in that explosion; he'll never believe that Penguin honestly didn't know he was sending the cops into a deathtrap. If Bullock doesn't make it, Ed and Oswald will be in rather serious trouble. Jim won't kill them himself probably, but he's a hypocrite enough to close his eyes when he wants to. One more reason to deal with Pierce faster, then establish enough power to protect Penguin here and get Riddler out of Arkham.

"Cobblepot? Will you stop getting beaten into here?" the doctor approached his bed. "I'm starting to think you do this on purpose." 

"That would be pretty stupid of me, wouldn't it?" Penguin muttered hoarsely and immediately regretted it: pushing air from his lungs and through his burning throat turned out to be excruciatingly painful. 

"Totally," the elderly man grunted and flashed a light in his healthy eye, checked his pulse, and did a few more standard tests before voicing his diagnosis. "Mild concussion, a broken rib, another one fractured. You can see the rest in the mirror." 

"Great," Oswald grumbled under his breath. 

"Hmph, it's better than I thought it was when they brought you here all bloody and swollen. You'll stay here for a week. Have fun," the doctor dropped before heading off to another patient. 

Oswald huffed and took a sip of water from a glass on the bedside table; swallowing it was agonizing, as was breathing and existing in general. His whole face hurt. Oswald didn't want to look in the mirror and see the new blooming bruises. He could see a nasty cut over the bridge of his nose; it's a miracle it wasn't broken. His swollen eyelids obscured the vision slightly, which was probably for the best since the fluorescent lamps caged to the ceiling felt like they were stabbing his brain through the eyes. Oswald closed them to try and lessen his agony. 

After a few failed attempts to take a deep breath, he focused on preparing a detailed plan for taking care of his Spencer Pierce problem. He had a general idea of what he wanted to do with the man to properly make a statement of how disastrously messing with the Penguin could end. 

He couldn't stop worrying about Edward, though. Oswald needs to contact Ms. Diaz as soon as he gets on his feet, which will hopefully happen today, even if he has to crawl to the phone from his bed. 

—☂—

"This stuff can kill you, you know," a familiar teasing voice reached Oswald from the window of the small smoking area on the staircase of the Blackgate infirmary. He released a wave of smoke and turned to stare up at Selina Kyle who sat lounging on a narrow ledge behind the thick metal bars without any indication of being uncomfortable with one of her legs dangling in the air three stories high. How the hell did she get up there unnoticed? A cat-woman indeed. 

"Oh wow, you're having fun here," Selina mockingly huffed and nodded at Penguin's bruised face and hand imprints on his neck. "Nevermind the smoking; seems your death won't come from lung cancer after all." 

"Miss Kyle. You have news, I assume?" Oswald asked impatiently, careful to not let his voice tremble. He was on the verge of an actual breakdown after almost six days of constant worrying about his beloved Edward's well-being. 

"Yeah, your boy's fine. They're keeping him isolated and on meds, but no freaky experiments being done to him, that's for sure." 

"Good," Oswald said shortly, keeping his nonchalance when inside he wanted to jump from the unbearable weight finally lifted off his shoulders. "Have you spoken to him?" 

"Uhm, what part of 'they're keeping him isolated ' was too hard to grasp?" she rolled her eyes, and Penguin scoffed. "I said Nygma's fine, jeez. I didn't speak to him, but I did see him calmly talking to a nurse, and I did check the scanty records and cameras. He's kept in one room, a nurse comes inside to bring food and check on his wound twice a day, and shower once every three days. Other than that, nobody gives a rat's ass about him," she shrugged, also very much indifferently. Oswald hid his relieved smile in taking a long drag. 

"I also checked the place overall, as you asked, nothing unusual being done to other inmates as well. No hidden doors, crazy scientists, or other weird stuff. Well, besides the usual creepiness of a madhouse in Gotham, you know," Selina reported, playing with her metal claws on the window bars. 

Penguin nodded, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Alright, very well. You did a good job. Thank you, Miss Kyle." 

"I don't work for your thanks, Penguin," she replied coldly. 

"My lawyer had paid you in advance, handsomely," he reminded, but Catwoman only quirked an eyebrow, totally unimpressed. Oswald sighed, frowning as his lungs gave extra pressure to his broken rib. "I'll give her a call and ask to grant you a bonus for being so thorough and for coming here personally." 

"Now we're talking," she smirked triumphantly. "Anyway, I would worry about your own well-being if I were you. You don't look so hot," she noted with indifference, eyeing Penguin up and down once again. 

"I'm perfectly fine here, Cat. But I appreciate your concern," Oswald rolled his eyes and took a drag from his cheap cigarette, hoping to dull the pain he felt at every breath. It didn't help, as always. 

"My what?" she scrunched her nose in disgust, looking very much like a cat who accidentally licked a lemon. "And it's Catwoman," Selina insisted, reminding him of another rapidly rising criminal who used to demand others to call him by his moniker, subconsciously seeking validation for his redeveloped independent persona. Oswald subtly smiled at the memory of Riddler's becoming. Catwoman huffed, understanding that she won't get that precious bit of approval from him for now. "Call if you wanna throw some more money my way. Toodles, Pengy." 

Before he got a chance to bark a retort for calling him that, the girl behind bars disappeared, leaving Oswald to process the excellent news alone and finish his cigarette in peace. He really needs to get a more expensive brand later. But now, with that nagging worry out of the way, Penguin can fully concentrate on his plan regarding Pierce and other issues here. 

—☂—

After one week, Oswald was let out of the infirmary and began preparing the execution of his plan. Pierce's repeated humiliations — which only intensified after the incident — indeed were troublesome. They dismantled whatever scraps of reputation Penguin had established over the months, resulting in the loss of support from most of the guards and, subsequently, other inmates. The guards stopped believing his vague threats to their families — he obviously couldn't do anything to Pierce openly abusing him. Or so they thought for now. Only Penguin's money managed to get small favors from them. It will have to do. 

Those sparse inmates who tried to gain Penguin's protection now crawled to others with any modicum of power in this place. Brickface was the main refuge for the desperate, and they flew to him, bringing gifts and fearful loyalty. At least the man himself stopped perceiving Penguin as a threat, and Oswald was blissfully invisible to his stone fists. That was a relief; he was getting more than enough bruises from Pierce's baton and heavy boots. Unsurprisingly, the only punishments the guard received for nearly killing an inmate were a reprimand and a few days of forced leave.

Oswald still had the support of Jason and some other inmates whose loyalty he kept buying with gifts to their families outside. But they couldn't do anything against the guards. No matter, they'll prove useful later, when Penguin begins his rise to power here. 

Penguin selected a few of the prisoners due to be released soon, or ones he could bailout. He needed his pawns free from the cage to play this little game flawlessly. One drug dealer, perfect. Two kidnappers and arsonists, exactly what he needed. Two more mindless gorilla-like thugs, just in case. Plus a few separate cleaners to silently remove any of the pieces listed above if they outlive their usefulness or show any signs of disloyalty. 

They all had agreed to do his bidding either for money or earlier release bought with that money. Penguin didn't command fear yet, but that's about to change. 

—☂—

Almost three months later, when all the pieces were lined up, it was time to attack. Traps set and sprung, all Penguin had planned went perfectly, according to the reports he received. 

The most exciting part was beginning right now, as a bought guard led Oswald and Jason towards the solitary cell with an unconscious Spencer Pierce cuffed to a metal armchair. After another reassurance to the paid guard that no physical harm will be done to his colleague, Penguin left him and Jason to stay just outside. He leaned his back against the wall before Pierce, patiently waiting for his moment to declare check and mate to his unfortunate foolish opponent.

Pierce began to stir and slowly regained his senses. He rattled his handcuffs and looked around, bewildered. Then focused his gaze on the figure of the only other person in the room before him. He scowled at Oswald but then looked with confusion at his empty hands, idle expression, and non-aggressive posture. Pierce probably expected just a physical retaliation. Naive moron. 

"I'll fuckin' slaughter you for sure this time," he growled, unsuccessfully fighting his handcuffs securing his arms to metal armrests. 

"Well, hello to you too, Officer Pierce," Penguin said flatly and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you're wondering why you were brought here in such fashion. Despite what you might think, I assure you, no physical harm will come to you from me. I just want to talk." 

He held a short pause for the idiot to catch up and continued, not leaving a chance to interrupt. 

"I've come to an understanding that I possess some crucial information to events that took place since the beginning of your shift here yesterday. I'm sure you're already aware of that terrible car crash that stole your father's and brother's lives last week," Oswald held a pause until the guard's enraged grimace and increased attempts to free himself spoke of his comprehension. In fact, Penguin had nothing to do with that, but he wasn't above capitalizing on a very convenient accident.

"What you don't know is that your gorgeous girlfriend Lilly died from an overdose only yesterday evening." 

Oswald hoped he was successful in stopping that news from reaching the man earlier than intended. Delightful stunned horror on Pierce's face proved his hopes right. After a brief pause, Penguin added, "She was found dead in your best friend George's bed…" Pierce's horror was joined by disbelief and then rage. Perfect. 

"Unfortunately, they both had been asleep under the effects of heavy drugs when the fire in his kitchen started and spread to the whole house. Lilly was already dead when it reached the bedroom, and George died in his sleep from suffocating on the smoke. The fire just added a few finishing touches before being extinguished." 

Oswald decided to wait for a reaction. He didn't have to wait for long. 

"Did you do it, you little piece of shit? I'll rip your head off, you fuckin' monster," Pierce growled through tears and gritted teeth. He tried to lunge at the criminal once again, but handcuffs effectively stopped his attempts to get up. 

"Me?" Penguin raised his eyebrows and placed a hand on his heart, fakely offended. "But Officer Pierce, I was here this whole time. How could I do it? I had as much part in that terrible misadventure as I had in cops finding a bag of drugs in your apartment this morning. What a naughty boy you are, Spencer, keeping all that stuff literally under your bed," he mockingly tutted with a shake of his finger. "Did you know that your friend and girlfriend were deadly high on the very same drugs as you kept at home?"

Pierce was processing this new information with a delicious terror twisting his features. Perfect timing to dump more on him. 

"What's even worse than your inevitable incarceration in this very facility is the fact that your misdeeds will have caused your sister's fate to change drastically. Your poor little sister Marina, who was left disabled after your dangerous games with her that one time when she was only four years old, and you were fifteen," Penguin shook his head with disapproval. Pierce cast his ashamed gaze down for a moment, but then looked with renewed fury at his current tormentor. 

"I suppose Marina has already told you about her abruptly canceled health coverage, hasn't she?" Oswald asked. He was impressed when Ms. Diaz didn't bat an eye at the seemingly weird immoral request and did what he needed without judgment or nagging questions. 

"Why the fuck did you do it, you sick bastard? She didn't do nothing to you; she's innocent and needs her meds," Pierce growled, although it wasn't even a bit threatening with tears streaming from his eyes. 

"Innocents have to pay for the misdeeds of the guilty sometimes, Spencer. I did warn you, multiple times, and proposed mutually beneficial ways to avoid this kind of situation," Penguin shrugged coolly. "Now, poor Marina will have no job, no parents or brothers to support her, no expensive medicine, and no help from social funds. Only stained reputation, ruined health, and miserable life. All. Because. Of. You," he punctuated each word with the small steps he made in Pierce's direction. Oswald stopped close to the guard and leaned forward a bit to look straight into his watery eyes. "Oh, and lest we forget a lot of medical bills she can't even hope to afford to cover on her own. And, of course, the compensation she'll have to pay for your accidental murder of Lilly and George. Their families will start the legal process as soon as they finish grieving. Even if Marina manages to get employed and sells her house, the money she'll have left won't last her more than a year or two."

Pierce was speechless. He just sat limply on the chair, gulping for air like a fish out of water. Pure panic and terror on his tear-stained face. Perfect. Oswald intentionally stood so close that the guard could grab his hand if he tried to. He didn't, utterly broken by his life so suddenly thrown downhill. 

Penguin sighed deeply and shook his head with fake sympathy. "You know, Officer Pierce, with the charges you're gonna be facing for drug distribution and two homicides by accident, you can hope to get at minimum twenty years of prison, right here with us. Probably more. Guess how long a disabled young woman can survive alone on the streets of this city? And by what means?" Pierce started to hyperventilate and sob uncontrollably, mumbling barely intelligible apologies and prays. 

"However, there is one way you can save Marina from that awful fate," Oswald waited until the guard looked at him with eyes full of tears and hope. "Your sister is now the sole benefactor of your very impressive life insurance provided by the government, for now, at least, while you're still an employee of the federal detention facility," Oswald shrugged. "It will provide Marina with more than enough money to have a decent life. Who knows, even her health insurance could be restored with time. And I'm sure that those two families won't sue a poor young woman who just lost all her close relatives." 

Oswald took a key to Pierce's handcuffs from his uniform pocket and placed it on the metal armrest next to the guard's shaking hand. "But think fast, the warrant on your arrest should be signed by the judge this morning even as we speak."

"Have a nice day, Officer Pierce," with that Penguin left the man to weep and choke on his tears alone in the cell. Just like that, the game was over. For Spencer Pierce, at least. 

Penguin was followed by the choked sobs of the broken man inside, and almost comically horrified gazes from the guard and Jason outside the cell. They will have a lot to tell to their respective parties inside Blackgate. But they both are smart enough to know just how much they can share. They hastily followed to escort Penguin back to his routine. The air between the three seemed heavy from the significance of what happened in that cell. They all could sense the approaching winds of change.

Spencer Pierce was found dead that afternoon inside his apartment when the GCPD burst in to make the arrest. It looked like an accident.

That was the first real move Penguin had made on his way to the throne this time around. Pierce's fate was a clear statement of his ability to destroy someone's life in the most cruel manner. It did bring plenty of the guards back under his thumb — some of them outright begged forgiveness for the disrespect they might have shown, desperately asking if Penguin held no grudge against them. As expected, that consequently swayed considerable groups of inmates to his side. But it also elevated him a few steps higher in the hierarchy inside this new world so similar to the old ladder of power he used to climb. Oswald lost his benefits of being a small, invisible, and powerless convict. The local leaders like Brickface and others won't tolerate his presence so carelessly anymore, and more wars, power plays, schemes, risks, and daring moves will have to be made on Penguin's long road towards the indestructible throne he had envisioned. 

Chapter Text

Riddler didn't initially plan on surrendering himself. He wanted to finish what he started with those fifteen morons who dared to speak ill of his beloved Penguin, and then go into hiding. Ed knew it's what Oswald wanted when he helped him buy some more time, and it was indeed the most sensible thing to do. He was so close to it, but the bullet that got stuck in his guts after the GCPD stormed in the middle of his little game with guns blazing forced him to reconsider. 

There weren't too many alternatives. All the back alley doctors Ed knew were either imprisoned, dead, or unavailable otherwise. Olga was probably his only remaining reliable ally, but she was no medic. Leaving Gotham was not an option either: all the bridges and docks were under strict surveillance; nobody could go in or out of the city without stopping at the checkpoints. The infection had already started to kick in when Riddler tried and failed to capture a hostage to hold as a guarantee of him waking up after the operation he would've demanded of that hostage's spouse who was a surgeon at Gotham General. There was really no other way, at least without a bit more time. Ed could barely walk through the pain and fever when he approached the GCPD. At least seeing everyone's shock and apprehension was gratifying. Such a shame he couldn't turn that event into something more, but he was in no state to even think over a proper ploy, much less execute it.

Ed could barely remember his first few days in Arkham. He had a fever, and his abdomen hurt like hell after the operation, which made him repeatedly slip in and out of unconsciousness. He was mostly alone, cuffed to the bed, with a nurse occasionally coming in to check his vitals and refill his plastic cup with water. The only thing Ed could think of during that time were promises to kill the cop who shot him, and brutally punish whoever deemed Ibuprofen as an adequate enough painkiller for his situation.

When the infection retreated, and the pain gradually subsided, Ed was uncuffed from his bed to move around his cold cell. That's how he spent the first three months of his confinement.

During that time, he was kept isolated and under constant surveillance. His only company was the nurse who brought food and checked on his gunshot wound twice a day, only occasionally speaking a command or two. It was also his only external source of entertainment if you could call it such. No books, or games, or even a paper and a pencil were allowed during the isolation period. It was a standard procedure for the newly admitted criminally insane, aimed to determine the level of inmate's aggression in stressful conditions. And they were rather insufferable: no people to talk to, nothing to busy his mind with, no proper food, and a total absence of privacy under the ever-watching eye of the camera. 

But the worst of all was medications. Ed had no opportunity to feign taking his prescribed pills and actually had to swallow them, nurse checked his mouth thoroughly every time. A few times, in the beginning, Riddler tried to fake it, but then two orderlies came and forced him to swallow every single pill. He couldn't really fight with his still healing stitched wound and the pain flaring around his abdomen at the extra movement.

Effects and side-effects hit him hard. Ed lost his appetite and his sleep, even more than usual. He went on without food or rest for days until orderlies would come to sedate and force-feed him. At least it felt like days since Ed had no way of telling time or date without a clock or a window. The first few days after the fever had subsided, Edward tried to make notches by tearing his sheet around the edge a little bit. But when the staff noticed it, they gave him a beating, sedated him for who knows how long, and took away his sheets, pillow, and blanket, forcing him to sleep on a soiled cold mattress when the exhaustion took over, or he was drugged yet again. The staff also seemed to occasionally change the schedule, not allowing Ed to measure time with their routine. So, naturally, after a few more days like these, he lost count. 

Worse than that, Edward was always nauseous and dizzy from the meds. His thoughts stumbled on each other and strayed from their usual free stream. Most of them just disappeared before forming into something intelligible, fading like a thin smoke never making it to the fire. It reminded Ed too much about the time after being thawed out of his icy prison. His brain felt numb.

But the hardest part of the meds was their intended effect, which, besides making him always exhausted but insomniac, removed his ability to communicate with himself inwardly. Ed couldn't see his other self anymore, but that wasn't new or bad. What was truly troubling is his inability to talk with himself inside his head. His world suddenly felt so very cold and empty. Edward was alone. When he tried to talk with his other self like he used to, his words echoed and reverberated from the walls of his hollow mind. He felt like half of him was brutally cut out, and only loneliness was left on the stump of his broken psyche. Logically, Ed understood it was only temporary while he was on meds. But that knowledge didn't make his isolation easier.

Throughout all this suffering, turmoil, and frustration, love was the only thing keeping him together. Yes, Ed felt painfully alone inside his mind. But outside of his inner world, he was never alone anymore because Oswald was with him. Together. Sure, physically they were separated by high walls, iron bars, and long miles, but none of it mattered, not really. Edward had Oswald's love, and he had his own love for Oswald. This tightly entwined lump of warmth was their shared home. They were bound by each other. And this connection wouldn't let Ed drown. 

Only in these critical conditions, Ed realized with all certainty how wrong he was all those years ago when he had convinced himself and Oswald that love was a weakness. He finally understood what Oswald meant when he promised to turn it into their strength, their sanctuary. 

It almost made him laugh out loud that the doctors kept Riddler isolated to make him feel utterly alone, to make him snap and show just how insane he truly was. Edward didn't laugh though, didn't break his facade, didn't scream and lash out. He only subtly smiled as he revisited all his memories of their time together with Oswald. Every little touch, every fond look, every tender word. The softness of raven black hair, the delicate curves of the pale body, the scent of flowery shampoo, and sweetness of thin lips. Thankfully, the pills hadn't affected his memory too much, only made the process of reviving it slower. But time was all Edward had in his empty cell. So he waited, basking in his and Oswald's mutual love all the while.

When doctors came to do tests or ask him regular questions, he answered what he knew they wanted to hear, blocking them out and listening to Oswald's soft voice repeating 'I love you, Ed. You're not alone'  instead. When the nurses brought him pills, Ed obediently swallowed, not noticing their sharp gazes observing him, because he was remembering the warmth of green and blue eyes gazing at him with adoration. When the orderlies told him to strip and wash under the cold stream of water from the hose they sprayed on him in this same room, he did as instructed without struggling, because in his mind, Edward was under the hot shower with his beloved bird stroking a soap bar against his chest or playing with the mounds of foam in his hair. Just like that, Edward used their love to survive this place and treatment that would've surely turned him insane otherwise. He endured it without paying too much attention to his current surroundings because he wasn't really there: Ed was retreating home. Where he wasn't cold, hurt, and starving. Where he was loved and cherished. Where his head was cradled in Oswald's lap while warm hands caressed him, and tender fingers played with his hair. Where soft lips pressed onto his and breathed life with every kiss. 

Love is a strength. 

That is the absolute truth Ed had realized with all clarity when he survived this seemingly endless hell. 

—?—

Apparently, his behavior was deemed satisfactory, and, after three months that felt like a year of highly stressful isolation, Ed could finally join other inmates. It was funny how much he craved to speak with those psychopaths by that time. He desperately needed to have a conversation with anyone. It would be nice to talk with himself, but the only voice inside his head was his own, and it was dull and lonely. 

Edward was escorted to the dining room of the Intensive treatment level for containment of the most dangerous criminally insane. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer number of other human beings in there. Not only one nurse or two bulky orderlies, but the whole vast room of moving, breathing, and talking humans greeted him. The doctor he spoke with before told that this was a breakfast time, which was confirmed by the barely visible morning sun seeping through the thick clouds into small barred windows nearly at the ceiling. 

Ed awkwardly stood by the entrance, not knowing what to do with himself. His thoughts were still hazy, and his limbs were heavy. After a few minutes of immobilized staring, Edward got pushed to the small window and received his tray of food there. 

He was painfully reminded of the school cafeteria. Groups of people he didn't know personally were seated like flocks of crows at the tables. But, unlike even the worst school bullies, people here could just slaughter you if you take their seat. Edward decided to play it safe and sat at the farthest table in the corner, with his back to the wall. 

He was trying to swallow a bland substance colored like a zombie. It was probably supposed to be some sort of scrambled eggs and vegetables. But something in a cook's life apparently went very wrong, and the result of their work tasted like sand mixed with glue. It was somehow even worse than what they were feeding him during the months of isolation.

"Well, hello there, Riddle-man. Please, pass me pepper, if you can," a cheerful voice interrupted his attempts to guess what green or brown vegetables were responsible for the deathly coloring of the food. He didn't even notice the company at his table before. Seems like he did take somebody's place after all.

Ed looked up and saw sitting beside him, a tall man with long dark curly hair and black eyes sparkling with pure madness and joyful curiosity. Jervis Tetch, aka the Mad Hatter. The hypnotist was wearing a top hat made of newspapers, and his face was clean-shaven, unlike the last time they met. Hopefully, he's not still pissed at Riddler for that whole thing with the kidnapping, grenade around the neck, and trading him like a walking blood bag. 

Opposite them sat none other than Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow. Apparently, he was allowed to keep his burlap mask; it was attached to his inmate uniform as a hood. It wasn't put on at the time, so Ed could actually see the scientist's features. The young man had a clean-shaved thin face and shortly cut brown hair. His sickly pale skin was accentuated by the prominent dark circles under light-blue eyes sharp like icicles. He had an indifferent, almost blank expression as he put the horrid food in his mouth and chewed, every movement mechanical as if Jonathan was buried in his own thoughts at the moment. His gaze was fixated somewhere around Tetch's plate; he didn't seem to pay attention to his surroundings at all.

Ed passed Jervis the pepper and offered a small polite smile. That was not a good situation if Mad Hatter still held a grudge on Riddler. Just Edward's luck to have picked a table of the person who had a real reason to hate him. He subtly glanced around the dining room, trying to think with his foggy mind of an escape route or predict how long it would take a guard to come to his aid. There was no guarantee that anyone would come at all. Or, if the information he heard about Tetch is correct, there is a chance Ed won't have an opportunity to make a sound to call for help. The only weapon he had nearby was his own plastic tray, already slightly cracked, presumably from being used precisely for that purpose. In theory, Ed could use his plastic spork if he aims for the eyes… 

"In case you were thinking I still hold a grudge, don't bother to worry, I'm not one to judge," Mad Hatter suddenly offered him a cheerful smile, all the while dumping outrageous amounts of pepper into his food, and observing Ed with curiosity. "Kidnapping and ransom show desperate time, and hardly considered a terrible crime."

Edward was surprised by such easy pardon if that's what it was. Jervis Tetch wasn't known for being anything other than a crazy violent lunatic. Then again, the only source of that reputation was the GCPD and Arkham employees, who are not exactly the best judge of character. They all considered the Riddler merely a deranged psychopath, after all. 

"Thanks for understanding. Times were desperate indeed," Ed nodded. Tetch eyed him with a slight knowing smirk but said nothing more, stuffing his mouth with a sporkful of the mash that was now mostly black from all the pepper. This color looked more edible somehow. 

After another failed attempt to eat the disgusting blueish-greenish-brown substance from his own tray, Ed decided to try and make a conversation. "I heard you escaped after helping Jeremiah with Gordon. How did they get you in the end?" 

Thankfully, Jervis didn't seem to be bothered by the possibly tactless question, as he answered without anger. "Oh yes, Jeremiah was lots of fun. But he got caught, and I had to run. I didn't know where else to go, so I joined my lover, Scarecrow." 

Ed was now inwardly thanking the worst cook in Arkham because he would've surely choked if he had any food in his mouth. Scarecrow wasn't so lucky and actually choked and coughed a bit. So he wasn't as absent as he appeared. 

Jervis didn't seem to notice it and explained further: "We lived in a hideout next to the swamp until trail of corpses gave our place up. We tried to fight back but got captured instead: they had plugs in their ears and masks on their heads," he gestured at his own ears and nose, frowning at the memory of being apprehended. Then sipped a cold brownish liquid that was apparently considered a tea here. Ed couldn't bring himself to do it after his first sip, but Jervis drank elegantly and without visible disgust, looking like a proper gentleman in a top hat, having a lovely morning tea time. 

Jonathan composed himself and was scowling at his lover, apparently. His face showed a bit more emotions than the thoughtfully vacant expression before.

"Mr. Tetch, I don't appreciate you telling about our relationship status to literally every person we meet," he said in a flat tone. "We don't even know him," his cold blue eyes pierced Ed. 

He found it peculiar that Jonathan addressed his lover so officially. Perhaps that was their thing, he supposed.

"Pfft. You're Scarecrow, and I'm Mad Hatter. He is Riddler, so what's the matter?" Jervis frowned with a shrug, genuinely confused. 

"Nevermind," Scarecrow sighed and shook his head. "I don't believe we've officially met, Riddler. Jonathan Crane," he stretched his long skeletal hand across the table.

"Edward. Nygma," he grinned and shook the offered limb. It was cold and bony but surprisingly firm. "I've studied your father's work years ago, very fascinating. Heard you took it much farther," Ed said to continue the conversation since he lost any hope to fill his empty stomach for now. 

Scarecrow nodded with barely distinguishable pride. It was hard to tell with his subtly changing expression.

"My father was a genius. I felt obligated and inclined to continue his work." 

"Curing the fear through fear?" Ed clarified, and Jonathan gave a small nod, sipping from his plastic cup. "So laughter didn't make it better after all?" he couldn't help but ask. 

"If you're referring to the experiments I've commenced with Jerome Valeska, it was a shameful waste of reagents, for the most part," Jonathan frowned ever so slightly. "That formula's futility was evident even after one or two test subjects. They just died from laughter, but it had nothing to do with fear; I don't see the point," he shrugged.

Edward tilted his head. "But you still created a bunch of it later to poison a whole crowd?"

That was probably a dangerous thing to remind, but thankfully, Jonathan didn't seem offended. "I was using my research for Jerome to improve my own formula's aerial form. The old one was too simple to remove with water; I needed something more substantial. But that failed, unfortunately, and I had to admit that I gave more than I received from that arrangement. And perhaps I followed Jerome longer than I should've. I didn't make that mistake with his brother, I'm not doing someone else's bidding again without getting much more out of it."

Mad Hatter listened to his partner with unconcealed adoration in his dark gleaming eyes, resting his chin on the palm and propping his elbow on the table. He nodded with proud support. "Jon is his very own man now. But he's also mine… somehow?" Jervis furrowed his brows, looking confused by his own words.

Scarecrow was dangerously close to smiling as he turned back to his food. He didn't seem to mind its flavor. Or lack thereof.

"Doesn't the food here taste like mummified dirt to you guys too?" Ed asked after a few minutes. They were actually consuming it while Ed couldn't even put a second sporkful it in his mouth. 

"It's because of your medication; it's worse with it. How long you were isolated?" Jonathan asked.

"For three months, at least that's what the doctor said."

"They held us for about five or six weeks each. You'll have a longer withdrawal from your meds," Jonathan shrugged. "You do plan to stop taking it, right? It's possible outside of isolation if you're careful."

"Yes, definitely. I can't even think straight under the effects. Everything is like a thick haze."

"That's why no riddles from you today?" Tetch inquired, Ed gave a hesitant nod. He didn't like to acknowledge his weakness, but there was no point in denying the facts. "I couldn't rhyme either, by the way. Memory foggy, mind like a clay. Words seem so close yet fly far away," he lamented with furrowed brows. 

"That's a surprisingly accurate description, yes." 

"Tell me exactly what your symptoms are and what your pills looked like," Jonathan said after another sip of his tea. He explained after Edward's questioning look, "I'll tell you their intended effects and withdrawal signs so you'd be prepared to fake them and not get caught skipping."

"Neat. Why do you care, though?" 

Scarecrow shrugged indifferently. "I don't. But it would be bad for everyone here if because of you, doctors check and find out just how many of us don't take prescribed medication. Not like they care about our treatment, but they might force-feed us our pills just in spite."

Ed nodded and told him every effect he had felt since the beginning of treatment. Including his inability to communicate with himself the way he used to. Both men seemed intrigued by his description of loneliness in his own mind. The young scientist had no problem naming each medication Ed was forced to take and how to fake it through the withdrawal effects.

"Give it about two weeks and the effects will wear off mostly, maybe some physical exhaustion will persist. In a month, you'll be good as new."

"Thank you, Jonathan. You're really good at this."

"No problem. I've been skipping their meds since I was sixteen."

"But didn't you want to stop seeing the Scarecrow?" Ed saw the kid's file back when he was working in the GCPD. Fascinating stuff. 

"I did. But no pills could ever stop it. This fear was a part of me, and I needed to deal with it myself. So we became one, Scarecrow and I."

Ed nodded in understanding. His acceptance of the Riddler allowed him to be at peace with himself as well. He wondered if Jonathan considered Scarecrow a separate entity and if he still had some repressed fear towards it. Or towards something else.

"You funny lunatics with your imaginary friends," Jervis giggled, glancing between them. Both Ed and Jonathan looked at him with reproach. "Even without my Alice, Gotham's madness never ends," he finished with a delighted grin.

"We're all mad here, Hatter," Ed reminded. He couldn't resist teasing the man with Lewis Carroll's quote since he couldn't focus his mind enough to compose a riddle or a better retort yet. And Edward knew how much Jervis liked his sister's favorite book. Rumor has it that he even knows it by heart. 

Mad Hatter stopped grinning and studied him thoughtfully like it was the first time he actually laid eyes on Ed. After a few long moments of staring, Tetch laughed maniacally and applauded. He was beaming like a kid on Christmas and said, "You, Mr. Riddler, I like you already! We're all mad here indeed. You'll fit right in!" and gave Edward a friendly clap on the shoulder before once again stuffing his mouth with the generously peppered food.

Strangely enough, it was one of the very few times Ed didn't mind being called insane. 

—?—

After breakfast, they were led to their individual therapies. Ed was assigned to a middle-aged psychiatrist with an utterly indifferent attitude. He was asked standard questions, given standard recommendations, placed under a standard stamp of schizophrenia, narcissism, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Edward didn't insist that any diagnosis couldn't possibly describe everything that his being was. Nobody here cared anyway. Arkham these days wasn't a 'place of healing', as Professor Strange used to call it. It was just a prison for containing criminally insane individuals, which Gotham produced more and more rapidly.

Riddler was okay with it. He didn't come here to feel better anyway. His current predicament was caused only by his wound that now was covered by fresh pink scar tissue. Ed will take the most out of his time here; it might do him well to take a break from his tiresome hiding from the GCPD, collect his thoughts, and meet new like-minded individuals. Perhaps establish some connections and even find allies, similar to what Oswald was doing in Blackgate at that same time. He will also use this time to think of some new ideas and how to bring them to life. That is, when he's capable of properly thinking again. 

After therapy, he was escorted to the recreation room. Ed studied it while being told rules, searched, shoved inside, and uncuffed after he was behind thick metal bars. The room was vast, with enough tables, benches, old coaches, and chairs to satisfy two times as many inmates as were relaxing there now. There were bookshelves with ragged torn books, painting materials, board games, and other noticeably worn activities. An old small TV was hanging from the ceiling, secured behind the wire mesh, but it wasn't working. 

Jonathan and Jervis were already there. Scarecrow was wearing his mask and playing chess with Victor Fries sitting opposite him. Jervis sat with his legs stretched on the bench and back leaned against his boyfriend's side while reading a book and occasionally glancing at the chessboard. He giggled every time he did it, which seemed to annoy both players if their simultaneous eye rolls were any indication.

There were some other individuals Ed could recognize.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee, as they are being called now, two remaining brothers of their band and reoccurring henchmen of Tetch. They were drawing something hideous with colored crayons on the same side of one board. It seems they are as dumb as they look, judging by how they fought for it and ended up crushing the crayons onto each other's hands despite the fact that the board was two-sided. 

A man with greenish-brown skin covered in growth that resembled scales, Waylon Jones or Killer Croc as people usually called him, was trying to patch his torn uniform. He had a tough time holding the needle with his long-clawed fingers. Ed wondered what does this creature see with his yellow snake-like eyes with vertically elongated thin pupils. He decided against researching that right now, after Croc accidentally pricked his finger and dropped the needle, roaring in frustration and baring rows of sharp teeth. 

A guy was reading a book in the farthest and the darkest corner. Ed recognized him as another experiment of Hugo Strange, who sported a pair of huge bat-like wings carefully folded behind his back. Fascinating. Riddler wanted to inspect the creature's wings if he ever gets the chance. Are they warm or cold to the touch? How dense and durable are they? Can he consciously control them like all other limbs, or do they act on pure instinct? How curious. 

The Dentist, one of Penguin's best ex-torturers, was writing something at the aged desk. Why was he admitted to Arkham and not Blackgate? Probably faked insanity to avoid being locked up with criminals whose teeth he had removed or drilled more than once. Just his luck then that he got placed next to the Riddler, who still can feel phantom pain in his jaw whenever he recalls being the Dentist's ‘patient'. He will definitely remind him of those fun times when he gets his mind free from pills influence.

And what the hell is Jeremiah Valeska doing here in the same room with the most dangerous criminally insane? What, doctors are afraid he'll suddenly come out of his vegetative state and start planting bombs all over Gotham again? And why does he need to be in the rec room at all? It's not like he can do anything other than staring at one spot directly in front of him. Jeremiah was sitting in a wheelchair with absolutely no signs of conscious presence in his blank eyes, face all wrapped in bandages like a mummy. 

Stirk the cannibal was also there, chewing on a pencil with his sharp teeth. Disgusting. At least he seemed docile enough now, unlike the last time Ed saw him. No muzzle or chain leash on him. 

Another cannibal, Eduardo Flamingo, one of very few assassins who could match Victor Zsasz's reputation and skill, was playing domino… with himself. He looked terribly bored, so Ed decided it's best not to draw too much attention, especially in his weakened state. There were still talks about the gut-freezing screaming and bleeding of the officer who brought the assassin to the GCPD and got her ear chewed off. 

More than a dozen more inmates were hanging out here: playing cards, talking with each other or themselves, painting, reading, and just sitting with vacant expressions deep inside their own thoughts. 

Yes, the Intensive treatment level of Arkham seemed anything but boring. Not with this kind of people around. And there's so much more to come. Some of the inmates were still in their therapy sessions. Some were still running wild on the streets of Gotham, hunted by the GCPD. And who knows how much more this wicked city will birth in the future. Edward grinned, he will surely have some fun here while waiting for a chance to get out. 

For now, though, he had to play it relatively safe, so he decided to join people he already knew and who didn't slaughter him for occupying their spot in the dining room. Ed walked to the chess table and sat next to Mr. Freeze. The scientist was wearing a lighter version of his suit, without armor plates and with a minimal amount of tubes providing him with the vital cooling. He still looked like a spaceman on the beach, but the man himself didn't show any displeasure. Victor spared only one indifferent sideways glance at Ed before returning his attention to the game. 

Edward's mind was so hazy that he had to spend a few minutes to make out what was happening on the chessboard. Scarecrow was leading but not by much. Riddler used to understand the game situation and predict the next dozen moves in a few quick seconds before the medication. Two more weeks of this. 

"Riddler, finally, you came! Care to join me in a game?" Jervis asked, shutting the book. It was a study on neurobiology — totally not what Ed expected Mad Hatter to read.

"Uhm, not sure I can be a worthy opponent right now. Brain feels numb." 

"So nothing's changed much since your quarrel with Penguin," Victor noted with the tiniest hint of a chuckle. 

Riddler scowled, "Everything's changed! I got my immense intelligence back and became the Riddler again. It's just medication here." 

"So you and Penguin are friends once again?" Victor asked, but he didn't seem particularly interested. 

"Or perhaps something more, you and that man?" Jervis sounded too interested, though. 

"We're friends, yes. Partners," Ed answered Mr. Freeze, ignoring the second question. Not a lie but not the whole truth either. No need for them to know the extent of their relationship. Edward hoped his subtlety was enough to fool Mad Hatter, who observed him with merry curiosity.

"I'm getting bored now. Humor me anyway," Tetch said after a minute and set another chessboard on the table between them, not bothering to sit straight. Scarecrow didn't voice any protest at the shuffling of the body pressed to his side. "One doesn't hope to beat the Riddler every day."

"Hm, fine. It's not like you'll get another chance once I'm back to being myself again," Ed shrugged. Not much else to do here anyway. He did have a few opening strategies memorized, so maybe he could even win. Or not fail too miserably. 

"Nice moves, Ed Nygma, not too dumb," Jervis commended after a few minutes. "Perhaps your mind is not that numb?" 

"You're going easy on me, Tetch. I'm not that slow to miss it," Ed accused, not buying his flattery. Hatter smirked slyly. 

"You were kept isolated for such a long while. That doesn't happen unless your crime was too vile. Tell us, what did you do to Jim Gordon out there? Asked him more riddles than his poor old brain could bear?" 

Oh, that was a nice topic.

"A few explosions, a few dead reporters who wrote the things they shouldn't have," Ed shrugged with feigned modesty. "A trap for the arrogant GCPD who came to arrest me, which put a few cops in the ground and a few in the hospital, Harvey Bullock among the latter." 

"Ooh, nasty," Jervis grinned. 

Edward puffed his chest proudly. "It was such a pitiful move by them. The place was so obviously a trap, I even warned them, I literally wrote on the door that they're gonna be 'blown away by what they'll see inside'," he shrugged. Tetch cackled, and two other criminals huffed with barely-there amusement. "Guess they didn't write about that in the papers, huh? Can't blame them, I would've been ashamed of such a failure too."

"We wouldn't know what they wrote," Victor muttered beside him while waiting for Jonathan to make his next move. 

"News is restricted for disturbing content. Go on, spill the details of how it all went," Mad Hatter encouraged. 

Riddler told them about his latest ventures. How he fooled the GCPD multiple times, leading them with fake trails and dubious clues. How he played 'You bet your life' with his 'participants' of choice, except they really did bet their lives and mostly lost. 

He described how he taught people whom he captured a lesson that they're no better than any other killer in the right circumstances. All Riddler had to do was put them in one sealed house, plant a seed of doubt, leave some clues — and Voilà, the 'good' people began killing each other with anything they could use as a weapon. It took them a few pretty brutal murders to understand that there was no 'undercover killer' among them; some even asked to be prosecuted after the cops finally got the survivors out. 

Reluctantly, Ed spoke of his latest game, which was rudely interrupted by the GCPD and their bullets. Who knew Foxy was such an expert on Sumerian religion and would guess his riddle much faster than expected.

Tetch, in turn, told Ed about his and Crane's little hobby outside of proper experiments and research. As two professionals adept at exploiting people's fears and deepest drives, they like to bet on who would guess a person's darkest fear correctly and most accurately. They get to ask the victim only three questions each, of course, with the ban on the most obvious direct 'what are you afraid of?' and such. Jervis usually goes with an unexpected inquiry and studies the person's reaction to judge their character. Jonathan, being very well-educated in the psychology field, sometimes asks, 'what do you see?' and shows one or two Rorschach test pictures. Afterward, they check the results with Scarecrow's fear toxin. So far, Jonathan is on the lead, which isn't surprising as it's his specialty and a passion. He got talkative and more lively when the topic of fears came up, sharing some of his unusual findings in human phobias and how it affects their lives. It was amusing how Crane got passionate but detached and clinical at the same time as he described his test subjects.

As it happened, Edward did win his chess game but only barely. Tetch congratulated him with applause, although it was clear that the man went too easy on him. For whatever reason, Ed couldn't guess, but it's probably one of the Hatter's ways to get to know him better. He does seem to enjoy looking into people's minds, to push their buttons and see what will come out. Meanwhile, Jonathan and Victor finished their game with the former winning it, as expected. 

"So, what was that with you and Penguin fighting alongside Gordon and others?" Scarecrow asked with a hint of disgust in his otherwise flat tone. 

"Simple, really. We decided to protect Gotham from total destruction," Ed shrugged. "No fun wreaking havoc in empty ruins. I want an audience, and the Penguin needs subjects to rule over." 

"And it had nothing to do with you trying to earn that pardon you both received afterward?" Freeze asked with a tone resembling sarcasm. Was Victor mocking him? Ed was used to not being the best at reading people, but Freeze was on a whole new level of unreadable with his cold voice and expression. 

"Are you trying to insult us by insinuating that we'd stoop so low as to risk our lives only for cozying up to Gordon?" Riddler muttered with a clear threat in his voice.

"Hm. You probably wouldn't. But Penguin is known to have a weak spot when it comes to that cop." 

Ed wanted to lunge at Victor and hit him with a chessboard. The constant light-headedness from the pills did nothing to stop a sudden urge to hurt the man, to protect Oswald's name. Even if Freeze was right. But that just angered Edward even more, all the memories of Oswald looking at Gordon like he was God himself descended to save the people of their beloved Gotham. Edward had to physically swallow back words that threatened to escape his throat. Words about how Oswald wasn't interested in the Commissioner, how he loves only Ed, and how their love kept Ed sane for the better half of a year now. Especially for the last three months. 

Instead, he only smirked, "Oswald is the best strategist I know. If he thinks it's better to be on Gordon's good side for a while, then it will prove to be profitable in the long run. He knows people. And Jimbo is not a hard read, let's be honest," his snorting was supported by Jervis's giggles. Jonathan and Victor both nodded. "But what happened to your quarrel with the Firefly? GCPD reports said you had a nasty disagreement." 

Victor had a slight hint of a smile, "We were just fooling around. She had the audacity to flame my test subjects, and I froze one of her furnaces as a payback. Gordon's men got caught in a crossfire, their fault entirely. We both got arrested when the military arrived. Firebug's still isolated, though. Probably swears to burn everyone to ashes, and they won't let her out." 

"What a hothead," Ed giggled and caught reproachful eye rolls from everyone at the table. Oh, there's so much more where that came from, he just needs some clarity of mind first. 

They switched opponents, and Ed lost to Jonathan after a very pathetic mistake of trading his knights for basically nothing. He'll get his payback yet. 

At lunch, Riddler sat alone, none of his new compatriots had been brought there. Food was still worse than bad, but he forced himself to swallow at least some of it. Scarecrow said that the more energy the body has, the faster it will work through withdrawal. 

After lunch, he was led outside into the yard behind high concrete walls with layers of electrified barbed wire along the top of it. Fresh air was good after three months of not seeing the sky. Even though the weather was typical for Gotham — thick clouds, light drizzle, cold wind— Edward still enjoyed it. He didn't participate in any activities with other inmates and just sat on the bench or walked around. 

On the group therapy later, Ed tried to stay as silent as possible to not give up his inability to spill riddles, fun facts, and witty comments like he'll do in two weeks. Thankfully, their therapist didn't care much and quickly believed that Edward was merely overwhelmed by the public after months of being alone. 

During dinner, he was once again joined by the Scarecrow and Mad Hatter. They told him how they had tried to execute an escape plan but failed and got caught. Thankfully, Warden White wasn't here today, and their punishment had been postponed. They were drugged and questioned about any accomplices, which they didn't have. 

Even with his hazy mind, Ed could see that the flaw in their plan was sloppiness with the electronics: they couldn't loop a camera feed and failed to blindside it. From their attentive gazes when he said that he did such trick dozens of times for his heists, Ed finally understood why exactly the Mad Hatter decided not to pursue his revenge. They knew Riddler could be an invaluable ally. 

When it was time to sleep, Edward once again internally thanked the officials for splitting Arkham into two sections after its rebuilding. The Intensive treatment level was designed exclusively for the most dangerous criminally insane inmates. And, ironically, they were mostly sane enough to actually sleep at night and not scream their lungs out like truly mindless patients on the General treatment level used to. Ed still could remember the cold sleepless night of his first stay in this place. But besides occasional screams from nightmares, snoring, and muffled talking, the halls of this level were quiet enough. 

—?—

Almost two weeks had passed in a similar fashion. Ed made sure to keep offered pills under his tongue when he swallowed water and spit them out as soon as nurses left his cell. Slowly but surely, the food started to taste less like sand and more like sand with seasoning, which was normal by Arkham standards. 

On the thirteenth day out of isolation, Ed glanced at the metal table during breakfast and saw his slightly distorted reflection smirk smugly at him. He smiled back. 

Did you miss me? Don't answer that, I know you did. Riddler's smug voice was a relief for Ed. His smile widened without his control. 

Good job on surviving this boredom alone. Not such a weakling as you seem, are you?  

Now that's just rude. 

Aww, I'm sooo sorry for hurting your tender feelings, Eddie boy. He mockingly laughed. Not to worry, though. I'm here to save the day now, as usual. 

Ed huffed a chuckle with a shake of his head, happy to be himself once again. 

"Something funny in your scrambled eggs? Or for entertainment your bored soul begs?" Jervis glanced at him with curiosity. 

Riddler grinned, "Wherever you may be, you're not alone with me. I'll never leave your side until the day I die. Who am I?" 

Jonathan eyed him, "So, he's back then?"

Riddler's grin became even wider as he drawled, "I'm back indeed. I'm most grateful for your assistance, Mr. Crane. I don't even know how to begin to repay it, I'm afraid," he punctuated and giggled. 

Jonathan frowned, "You can start by not making any more of those awful puns." 

"Awful ?" Ed laughed and got an exasperated eye-roll in response. 

Well then… 

"Why did the scarecrow win so many awards?" 

"Remind me to fear gas you when I get my hands on a dose," Crane muttered instead of an answer and sipped his tea. 

"He was out-standing in his field!" Riddler's manic laughter was joined by Tetch's snorting as he chewed his food. 

"I wonder what the Riddler is afraid of?" Scarecrow mused, and he seemed genuinely intrigued. That is not a good sign. Ed suddenly felt like a test subject under that cold gaze of light-blue eyes. "Is it failure you fear? Or the lack of attention? Or being proven not the smartest man in the room? Or-..."

Mad Hatter suddenly cackled, throwing his head back and interrupting his partner's psychoanalysis. He explained through his giggles after Jonathan quirked an eyebrow at him expectantly, "I just imagined, my dear Mr. Crane, what if his fears are shamefully mundane? Like fear of spiders, or clowns, or snakes. Or put him up higher and see how he breaks," Tetch laughed again at his speculations, and even Jonathan's pale lips stretched in a cruel smirk. So jokes about phobias can make him smile. Hardly surprising, really.

"Wouldn't you both like to know?" Ed gave a complacent scoff. "Alas, that riddle will remain unsolved. Even if you manage to inject me with your toxin, no inferior mind would be capable of comprehending the unfiltered extent of my genius. So, I suggest you don't waste your reagents only to have your self-esteem crashed to the ground," Riddler finished with a haughty wink as Jonathan shook his head with a small sigh and Jervis continued studying him, still grinning like a madman.

"I'll ask you something that even a child could answer, instead. I can come in a can. I can come as a punch. I can come as a win. You can eat me for lunch. What am I?" Riddler asked, propping his chin on the one hand and not bothering to conceal his excitement. 

"Jervis, what do you think, should we feed him those pills ourselves?" Scarecrow muttered. 

"Hmm, I don't know about that, my dear Jon. Kinda like this new Riddler, please do carry on," he encouraged with a wink at Ed. 

He was delighted to play along. "Why, thank you, Jervis, very much. I can agree, I'm quite the catch!" And they both laughed like two deranged five-year-olds, much to the dismay of Jonathan, who was now outnumbered. At least until break time in rec room when they'll be joined by Victor, Waylon, Bridgit, and others. Firefly was finally released from isolation only two days ago. 

"Oh, and the answer is 'beat'. And that's exactly what I'll finally do to you in a chess game today, Jonathan," Edward challenged. 

And he did beat him. And he beat Victor after that. It felt fantastic to be brilliant again, to be whole, complete within himself. During the break time and the group therapy later, Freeze and Firefly were far from impressed by his endless stream of puns about fire and ice. Unfortunately, Killer Croc's guttural growl forcefully interrupted Riddler's attempt to joke about a crocodile that walked into a bar. 

—?—

With time, Riddler made his acquaintance with all other inmates in the Intensive treatment level. Eduardo Flamingo turned out to be an excellent opponent in pretty much any card game when he was inclined to socialize. He was also an avid expert in torture; Ed learned from him even more than from Oswald or Zsasz. Flamingo was hardly a pleasant company, but he did have a particularly dark sense of humor, which was amusing. 

Jeremiah Valeska was moved to the General treatment level of Arkham after the incident when Waylon almost bit off whatever was left of the clown's face while running around his wheelchair, trying to chase the Tweed Brothers who kept throwing crumpled colored paper at the Croc. It was a hilarious performance overall, nevermind how dangerous to anyone caught in the crossfire. Unfortunately, the fun stopped when the guards threw a couple of grenades with knockout gas, effectively putting to sleep the whole rec room. 

The Dentist had a suspicious unfortunate accident, which resulted in his broken jaw and a few lost teeth. It's going to be a while until he can return to eating without a straw. Nobody found out what caused the malfunction in the automatic gate lock that closed on his face. Or who, to be precise.

Ed still mostly hung out with his usual crew. Now he could not only listen but actively participate in their discussions of chemical formulas and reactions, speculate about what can be improved, and how it can be used. It was like talking with Foxy but without accusing appalled glances and subtle suggestions to check his head with a psychiatrist. Among their group, Riddler had the most superior knowledge and imagination for all kinds of mechanical devices and traps, not to mention electronics and explosives. He was proud to share some ideas on their suits or gadgets in exchange for scientific insights from their research. Mutually beneficial solutions between the fellow rogues, as some started calling them all. 

Edward missed Oswald, very much. Sometimes so deeply that he wanted to curl up and cry his eyes out. Every night he hugged the pillow and imagined it was his lover's warm body, albeit less angular and bony. His active imagination was able to create an almost realistic image of Oswald in his arms, recall from his memory whispered sacred words 'I love you, Eddie'. And he didn't feel too lonely in those moments, didn't want to cry anymore. It allowed him to fall asleep, cradled in love with his sweet Penguin. Never alone, with his love somewhere out there, hopefully thinking about Ed at least sometimes. 

In general, it all was bearable and even surprisingly okay. 

—?—

They almost escaped twice during Edward's first year in Arkham. Their plans were elaborate and well-composed, but something went wrong both times. 

During their first attempt, Bridgit and Victor had a disagreement in the middle of a hall where they were supposed to be on the lookout while all others retrieved equipment from the storage room. Their disagreement turned into a full-blown fight with nearby items being hurled into each other in lieu of proper weapons. In all that mess, they failed to stop an orderly who noticed the dispute and sounded the alarm. It resulted in the capture of the whole team; they were separated and kept isolated for a month after that. Of course, it didn't stop them from composing a new plan after they debated and voted if they should let those two idiots in on it. Killer Croc's vote was a deciding one, and they stayed on the team because he liked Firefly's wild temper. 

Ironically, the second time, it was Waylon himself who stopped everyone from escaping. It wasn't his fault, though, not really. He got stuck inside the air ducts. He couldn't move in any direction, and the whole part of the ventilation system had to be dismantled to get the growling and wailing Croc out. Naturally, all others were caught before they could leave the premises, which led to another month of isolation. 

The third chance to escape came around a year after Edward's arrest, from an unexpected place: the building itself with the faults in the Intensive treatment construction and decoration. Nobody ever cared about houseplants growing in the therapy rooms and unpaved ground in the yard, until the GCPD brought Poison Ivy to be contained here. They also admitted Victor Zsasz to Arkham, who, according to rumors, unwittingly assisted in their capture. The assassin went catatonic after being separated from Ivy, who kept him under control for nearly two years. Doctors couldn't say for sure when he'd wake up and how he'd behave. 

As soon as Ivy got her yard privileges, she got to work. In only a couple of days, she managed to summon a few thick vines which strangled any approaching guard while Killer Croc tried to bash through the concrete wall, and some tried to climb it after Riddler successfully turned off the electric current in the bars and wires. They all were this close to getting out when the GCPD forces stormed in, shooting the vines down, thus allowing the Asylum guards to rain tranq darts on everyone, starting with Poison Ivy. The yard was closed for reconstruction. 

Soon the whole Intensive treatment level followed when the woman almost flooded the entire building, having dug through the sewers with the vines she grew with only handfuls of soil other inmates tried to bring from their time outside in the other yard. After that, Ivy was placed inside the Extreme isolation cell, which was one of the ex-containment chambers of Indian Hill test subjects. It was secured from any access to earth and plants by layers of metal and plastic around the walls. Some of the others were also locked up in the Extreme isolation cells: people like Killer Croc, who were deemed too savage, and Mr. Freeze, who needed special conditions in their confinement. All other inmates of Intensive treatment were brought to the General treatment level for the time it'll take to restore and reinforce their part of the building. 

For the first time in years, Ed was here again, in the rec room with a simple wire mesh instead of reinforced iron bars with electricity surging through them. It brought back memories. Not particularly pleasant ones, but it did remind him of how simple it was to plan an escape all those years ago. More innocent and incoherent inmates here, so easy to manipulate and use to his whims. Even guards are less tense here, not so heavily armored, and carry mere rubber batons instead of charged stun ones and tranq guns. It'll be too easy, Riddler concluded giddily. 

It was. But not in a way he expected at all. 

About a week ago, Ed managed to peek into the guard's newspaper, and it was one year ten months and seventeen days after Oswald's arrest or around sixteen months since Edward's. Now, Riddler was sitting in the rec room, turning sections of a Rubick's cube to paint the sides into different patterns and counting the minutes until the guard's shift ended. He was memorizing their timings to use it in his escape plan later. Jeremiah Valeska sat drooling in his wheelchair, indifferent to the buzzing of insane around him. Others were still stuck in their individual therapies or brought into isolation as a punishment for too reckless failed escape attempts. Riddler wasn't the only one who saw the perfect opportunity to break free. Luckily, he was patient enough.

Suddenly an alarm blared through the Asylum walls. The General treatment level didn't switch automatically into an immediate emergency lockdown, unlike the Intensive treatment. Ed stood watching the insane inmates running around Jeremiah's wheelchair and screaming in panic like headless chickens. It was amusing for a while, but also confusing as to what had triggered the alarm. Did somebody else try to break free and got caught? Edward's confusion spiked a hundred times when a guard rushed into the rec room and put a burlap bag on his head without any explanation or warning. He felt the pick of a needle on his neck and then his body went limp and mind succumbed to darkness. 

Chapter Text

Riddler woke up in some building that wasn't Arkham. Even with a burlap bag still on his head, Ed could smell the air, and it didn't have the usual heavy scent of medicine. It was more stale and damp here. He also noted that he wasn't restrained and was sitting on a chair. Riddler removed the bag from his head and looked around. Seems like some kind of a warehouse or a factory perhaps. Dim lights didn't allow him to see too much of his surroundings.

"Hello?" Ed demanded loudly. If his kidnappers mean harm, he'll have better chances of trying to reason with them rather than attempting to escape an unfamiliar building and getting drugged again. "Who are you?"

There was a minute of dead silence with his calls echoing on the walls until… 

"Edward Nygma," almost an achingly familiar voice drawled behind his back. Everything in Ed instantly exploded in one single feeling: happiness. He could only beam as he turned around to see his lovely fiancé slowly stepping out from the deep shadows and approaching him. 

Oswald was dressed impeccably as always. An elegant black suit with coattails, deep purple velvety vest, black shirt and golden-patterned tie underneath. Ed could see how the man was trying to keep his posture and hold back from rushing towards him, advancing painfully slow. What a tease. Well, two could play that game, Riddler decided and remained sitting on the chair, following his beloved bird's movements with his head. 

"Oswald," Ed breathed out, mesmerized by Penguin's oh so familiar smooth elegance. 

"I specifically remember telling you not to get captured," he tried to chastise Ed as he stopped mere inches apart before his knees, looking down on him. But his attempted stern expression was absolutely betrayed by a smile tugging at his lips despite Oswald's apparent attempts to reign it in. 

"And I specifically remember telling you that you shouldn't worry about it. And I was right, as I always am," Riddler purred in response, gazing up into the gorgeous eyes with long eyelashes. 

"Ugh shush, you ridiculous creature, and let me do what I came here to do." 

With that, Oswald surged forward in one fluid movement, and the next second he was straddling Edward's lap and claiming his lips in a deep intense kiss. 

It was nothing short of divine. Ed felt like a man that walked through a desert and, finally, at long last found the stream of the freshest clean cold water. He wanted to drown in Oswald. Edward desperately clutched at his body like he would fly away the moment Ed let him go. Oswald grasped him with equal intensity. 

They kissed until it was impossible to continue without suffocating. When they drew back, Oswald looked briefly in Edward's eyes and crushed him in an embrace. It was equally tender and desperate. Utterly perfect. Ed was grateful for the semi-adequate sanitary norms of Arkham that allowed him to shower just before bedtime last night. Their bodies were pressed flush right now, Oswald nuzzling at his neck and rubbing cheek to his cheek, almost purring in bliss. 

Ed stroked his boyfriend's body wherever his hands could reach. He was just as Edward remembered him. Small, seemingly delicate but with power radiating from within and pleasantly heating his hands though the layers of expensive clothes. Penguin still was too skinny, thinner than he was before the arrest. Does he even eat in there? Probably works out though, Riddler noted with delight as he sensed more muscle on his bird's bones. 

Ed couldn't get enough of him. He breathed in to feel how wonderfully he smells. How did his lungs work for almost two years without getting a dose of his bird's divinely soft scent? 

"I'm not clothes, but I cover your body. The more I'm used, the thinner I grow. What am I?" Riddler whispered in Oswald's ear. 

He scoffed, "Seriously, Ed? I haven't seen you in forever, and the first thing you ask me is a riddle?... Oh, why do I even pretend to be surprised," Penguin chuckled and murmured in the crook of Edward's neck, "I don't know, skin? No, not skin. I give up, Eddie. Tell me." 

"Soap. You use a different one. Almond instead of lavender," he pressed a kiss to the delicate pale neck. 

"Hmm, yes, choosing a specific washing product wasn't exactly a priority," Oswald huffed.

Ed hummed and pressed more soft kisses along Oswald's neck, jaw, behind his ear. There was another foreign scent on the sweet skin and feathery hair… 

"Did you start smoking?" Ed asked and pulled back to look at his lover with bewilderment. 

"I did. Continue, technically, as I've been smoking in my teenage years. You would too if you knew how much people talk during the smoke breaks," Oswald shook his head with a slight smirk, but then frowned. "Does it bother you?" 

Edward considered it. The smell wasn't bad. Quite the opposite, tobacco combined with Oswald's own scent very nicely and gave him a creamy bitter hint, creating a mix that made Riddler's head spin in the best of ways. He even thought it was a cologne at first. 

"I don't mind the smell, but I'm worried about your health," he answered honestly. 

Penguin scoffed. "Oh please, Ed. I'm not a child, I've heard all that from my mother before, believe me," he rolled his eyes with exasperated fondness. "My health is fine, I promise. And it will be even better if you kiss me some more," he winked, and Ed was more than happy to oblige. 

Once again, their lips met, tongues hungrily invaded each other's mouths while hands kept wandering around the touch-starved bodies. Ed ravenously swallowed every small mewling sound he was extracting from the man on his lap, the perfect music to his ears. He couldn't wait to hear more. Taste and smell more. More Oswald in any and every way possible. 

"Ozzie, my sweet bird, does this place have a bed by any chance?" he murmured into their kiss in a deep suggestive tone he knew could get Oswald going any time of day. Now, after such a long separation, the reaction was even more evident as he felt a delicious shiver running through Penguin's whole body. 

"Why, of course, Eddie dearest. Why else do you think I brought you here?" he chuckled. "Come, let's get you out of that godawful uniform." 

They pulled away and were able to take in the full sight of each other finally. Oswald was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. His suit perfectly fit, hair styled back in spikes and swirls, they were a little longer than the last time Ed had seen his lover. Monocle was neatly set over his damaged blue eye. Penguin looked even paler than before, which was accentuated by his crisp black shirt. Barely noticeable freckles peppered his beautifully shaped nose and sharpened cheekbones; he didn't seem to have used any makeup today, or it was too subtle to notice in such a dim light. 

Oswald looked Ed over with the same love and adoration that always seemed to make his eyes glow softly. He stroked Ed's own grown hair lovingly like one would pet a cat. His fingers traced down curves of Edward's face to his neck and collar, down his chest. Oswald chuckled when he looked at his striped uniform. 

"So tell me, my lovely inmate D-171," Ed didn't know this 'title' could possibly sound tenderly. Oswald surprised him yet again. "Why do you have a number 'two' stitched under your badge?" 

Oh, Edward almost forgot about that. 

"It's… well…" he hesitated. 

"Tell me, I wanna know," he sealed his request with a tender kiss, and how could Ed deny him? 

"It was a spontaneous decision to keep count of years until your release. Whenever I look at it, I'm reminded of how much of this journey we've passed already," Ed felt himself blush and averted his gaze. "For now, the count is not too big, but it reminds me how your love was the only thing that kept me sane when I didn't even have myself to talk to. And how it warmed me every night, lulled me to sleep like you were beside me." 

Ed kept to himself the fact that it also served as a reality check on the occasions when nightmares assaulted him in his sleep. Apparently, some small part of his mind protected him in his dreams, and whatever horrors tormented him, they never could recreate this little addition to his uniform. It was like Oswald was too sacred even for Edward's troubled subconscious to conjure up this reminder of him in a nightmare. 

"I had a patch with number 'three' prepared already," he grinned. His hands stitched the previous one on their own accord on the anniversary of Oswald's sentence, and he was grateful for it ever since. 

"Oh, Eddie," Oswald breathed, blinking away emotional tears from his eyes, and softly kissed him again, so heavenly sweet and tender. Then he chuckled and murmured against Ed's lips, "If I didn't know any better, I would accuse you of being a sentimentalist," he recited Edward's words from what seemed like another life now. 

Riddler huffed with a fond smile, "I learned from the best," and kissed his beautiful fiancé deeply one more time. He couldn't get enough of him. 

"Oh dear, Oswald, it's so good to see you. Did you really broke me out of Arkham just now?" 

"Well, what are friends for?" Penguin shrugged with feigned modesty. Ed laughed at it, what a gorgeous man. "Alright, come with me." 

Oswald rose from Ed's lap and held a hand out for him to help get up as well. They didn't break the contact as Oswald led Edward to a reinforced metal door. He entered the passcode on the number pad, and the lock clicked open. Inside was a passage down the stairs that led underground to another closed door. Behind it, Edward found himself standing in a vast room decorated humbly but comfortably. It slightly reminded him of his old apartment on Grundy Street: it also looked cozy and not even close to the vintage luxury of Van Dahl mansion. There were all essential domestic items: large bed, closet, freezer, small dining table and chairs, a humble kitchen with a table counter, and even a TV with a comfy looking couch in front of it. On the farther side was a door that presumably led to the bathroom. The place was lit with softly glowing yellow overhead lamps.

Oswald took him to the big closet and opened it. Inside were a few of their suits: Oswald's darker ones and Edward's various shades of green. Other shelves contained a few pajama sets, undergarments, socks, and shoes. Two of Oswald's canes stood next to his long black umbrella. A couple of drawers probably contained their jewelry.

Penguin thought of everything when he organized the construction of this hideout. Edward was impressed but not surprised; he wouldn't have expected anything less. 

"How did you do it in such a short time? I thought you said it'll be at least three years before we see each other. Not that I'm complaining," Ed added and wrapped an arm around his bird's waist. 

"That was my initial presumption, yes. And I'm still miles away from completing all of my plans. I mean, I haven't even been to the High-security wing of Blackgate yet," he sighed. "Honestly, I was just too worried about you and had to check personally to see if you're okay, even though the move was quite risky for now."

Oswald's expression turned solemn. "When I got the news that they had placed you in Arkham… well, it was devastating but not too unexpected, really. What I didn't expect was that you'd be brought to the Intensive treatment. I sent Selina Kyle to check on you a few times; she always reported that you're fine, but, naturally, I still had concerns," he cupped Ed's face, looking up into his eyes with worry. "Did they do anything to you there? Illegal experiments, torture? Were you hurt?" his voice almost broke, and Ed hugged his beloved fiancé, overwhelmed by a warm feeling of being loved and cherished that spread pleasantly deep inside his chest. 

"It was surprisingly okay, to be honest," he answered after they drew back a little, hands still grasping and stroking each other as if to confirm the reality of it all. "The first three months were hard because they kept me isolated and drugged on medication. It got better after that. The new Warden White is gravely lackadaisical, and it reflects on the staff: nobody cares about anything, and it's great. I mean, they don't even check if I truly swallowed the pills anymore. We even almost escaped three times and considered the fourth plan, it would've worked for sure" he boasted. 

"We? Got some new friends there, did you Riddler?" Oswald chuckled and moved from his embrace to their small kitchen. 

"I did indeed," he grinned. "Scarecrow and Mad Hatter turned out to be not so scary and mad after all." 

Oswald threw a glance at him and shook his head. Riddler's grin widened. 

"At first, I mostly hung out with them. And with Mr. Freeze, such a chill guy." That earned a scoff from Oswald, who produced a couple of pots and containers from the freezer. "Their heated arguments with Firefly are kinda entertaining too," Penguin turned to give Ed his trademark eye-roll. 

"Later, when all effects from medication wore off, I felt prepared to talk to cannibals like Eduardo Flamingo and Killer Croc." 

Oswald groaned at that, "By gods, Edward, how are you even still alive in there with your obnoxious puns?" 

Riddler snorted, "Well, what can I say? Nobody would dare to punish me; I'm virtually punstoppable," he cackled at the frustrated squeal that escaped his bird through the gritted teeth.

"Besides, nobody can resist my charm," Ed straightened his back and spread his arms in a display of pure confidence and showmanship. 

Oswald clicked his tongue and placed the pots on burners after managing to avert gis gaze from Riddler. "I sure hope they do resist. For their sake as much as yours," he playfully threatened with a wink over his shoulder. 

Ed stalked closer and leaned on the counter, propping his chin on the palm of his hand, "Oh, Mr. Penguin? Getting jealous, are we?" 

Oswald huffed, "We'll see how you get when I start 'hanging out' with big guys like Bane. Or, since Bullock made it in one piece after your stunt, perhaps Jim will visit me to reconnect and chat like in the good old days…" he trailed off. 

Riddler growled, "Don't even dare to tease me like this, Ozzie." Penguin snorted and arched an eyebrow, half-turned to him from the burners. Ed leaned forward to murmur in a low voice, "There will be consequences." 

Oswald smiled slyly, "I find it difficult to take seriously threats made by a walking skeleton," he huffed at Edward's pretended affronted gasp. "I suppose I'll have to feed you better if I want to marry more than only your bones later."

"You're the one to talk," Ed pointedly eyed Oswald's slight form up and down. "I remember sending a well-fed bird there, but those bastards brought you back to the starved state," he complained. 

Penguin shrugged. "Regular and proper food wasn't a priority either. Even though Blackgate does treat its inmates better than Arkham in that regard." 

He turned back to burners and removed the lid of one of the pots to steer its contents. It smelled heavenly.

"You don't look like it, still all bones and angles. A little more muscle, though," Ed reached across the counter to give Penguin's upper arm a squeeze and feel a bit more developed bicep. 

"I can't even begin to describe how much people talk inside the gym, probably even more than in smoking areas. Even Barbara didn't gossip that much when we used to spill the tea together. And a lot of shady dealings are happening there, can't miss on that," Oswald huffed. 

"Still, you should eat more, Ozzie. Besides, you seem to have access to some Olga-level treats," Ed felt his mouth water from the mere scent of it. 

Oswald chuckled, "It is Olga's cooking. I'm seeing this room for the second time; the first was earlier today when my people were in the process of getting you out. I trusted her with stocking and decorating this hideout, and I have to say I'm impressed. I think I'll give her more tasks like this. We'll need a lot of safe places in years to come," he gave a wink over his shoulder. 

Ed smiled at his beautiful partner, "My smart future husband, thinking ten steps ahead, as always," he gave a gentle stroke to Oswald's shoulder before turning back to the closet. "I'll go get dressed properly." 

"Alright, dear. And do something with your poor hair, would you?" he suggested with a chuckle. "I suppose I'll have no choice but to give you a haircut again. Can't have your eyesight suffer."

Ed snorted. Oswald could pretend all he liked, but Edward knew how much he enjoyed cutting his too-long hair last time, despite Riddler's constant grumbling about the more important things like building the submarine. And Oswald never could hide how much he loves to card his hands through Ed's hair, or fuss with removing the tips when they grow a bit longer and start to get in his eyes. 

Ed removed his inmate uniform and put on shimmering green pants and a silky black shirt with dark green dots on it. Riddler decided against dressing completely but still donned a green tie and emerald cufflinks to look good for his handsome fiancé. He placed his bowler hat on top of his head for a few minutes; Edward didn't even realize how much he missed that thing. But it was too hot and uncomfortable to wear it here; he'll get plenty of chances later. 

Ed looked himself over in a full-length mirror. His hair really did grow long; he didn't pay too much attention to it in Arkham with barely any proper reflecting surfaces. It didn't bother him as much as the barest stubble that started to itch every time he didn't shave. Edward combed his curly strands and neatly slicked them back. That's better. 

Penguin's approving smile further confirmed it when Ed joined him at the kitchen and helped set the dining table. It was small, so when they sat opposite each other, their legs touched, and neither wanted to break that contact. The food was so delicious that Edward and Oswald both didn't even talk during the first few minutes, just wolfing through it. 

When the initial hunger was sated, they continued eating slower, which allowed them to talk and catch up on events after their separation. Oswald sympathetically frowned when Ed described his time in isolation and was pleasantly surprised by the inmates in the Intensive treatment. 

"Well, as crazy as it sounds, I'm relieved that you were relatively safe and not too miserable there," Oswald chuckled. "Ironically, besides the doctors, I was mostly worried about what Tetch might do to you as a late retaliation for all that kidnapping and grenade thing." 

"Yes, I was also confused by their not hostile attitude at first. But it's not that strange when you think about it. Everyone knows how brilliant and skillful I am," Ed snorted at the way Oswald's eyes slightly rolled with fond amusement. "It's rather reasonable of them to be on good terms with a person who can turn off the alarms, rewire the electronics, and loop the camera feed. Not to mention my ability to devise convoluted plans, support any conversation, outwit them in chess, present a challenging riddle, and my overall charming personality."

Oswald chuckled. "I hope you didn't rub it in their faces how useless and incapable they are without you." 

"They are aware," Riddler nodded with a self-satisfied grin, and Oswald shook his head. 

"Still, being reasonable is now what one expects from the Mad Hatter." 

"Yes, and that's exactly what makes him so dangerous: people don't know what to expect from him. When, in fact, he's rather sensible, and his actions are mostly rational when they're not impulsive." 

Oswald looked at him skeptically while picking pieces of goulash meat with his fork. 

"Although, Tetch does like to divert attention and create mixed expectations to get into someone's head," Ed huffed. "I'm getting more and more certain that he doesn't use actual hypnosis on people, despite what everyone thinks. Or, at least, that's not all of his methods."

"But then how does he manage to turn people into his obedient mindless zombies?" 

"I doubt it's by casting a spell on them," Ed smirked at his reproachful glare. "As it turns out, Jervis has surprisingly profound knowledge in neuroscience. I'm starting to believe he uses some sort of technology to affect people's brain waves. I guess it is connected to his pocket watch or other items and audible or visual tricks, but I'm yet to solve this particular puzzle."

"So you think his theatrics with hypnosis is just for show? To avert eyes?"

"It would make sense. When people don't know how he does what he does, they make up stories about his magic watches or magic eyes."

"And that allows him to use his actual tools without drawing attention. That's smart if it's true," Oswald nodded, clearly impressed and intrigued. 

Edward finished his tale up until the point of being kidnapped from the rec room. They put away the remaining food, washed dishes, and started on their dessert with tea by the time Oswald was telling him about his quarrels and fights with other prisoners, namely Brickface. Riddler was enraged that some pathetic common criminals dared to lay their dirty hands on his precious little bird. Then a thought hit him hard, and Ed suddenly felt cold to the bones. He sat stunned as his imagination assaulted him with gruesome pictures of his lover so small and defenseless against burly inmates, all alone and… Ed shook his head to chase unspeakable images away, placing his spoon on the plate with a trembling hand. 

"... Eddie? You alright?" 

"Oswald. Did… Did they ever tried to…" he couldn't even get the words out around the lump stuck in his throat. Thankfully, Oswald understood him and stopped him with a dismissing wave of his hand. 

"Don't even think about such matters, Edward. The worst injuries I got there were broken ribs and fingers; all healed just fine." Penguin's expression then darkened for a second, but it was enough for Edward's panic to rise again. "Well, there were two guys that probably had attempted to go in that direction, I'm not entirely sure, really," Oswald admitted after Ed grasped his hand and looked him in the eyes. 

"What?! What happened?" Ed's voice was shaking with worry for Oswald and fury at his attackers. 

"Nothing too serious, calm down, Eddie," he smiled softly and covered Ed's hand with his, effectively chasing away more than half of his suffocating anxieties. "Remember those Brickface's lackeys I mentioned? They approached me from behind once, hit me with something on the head, and one of them twisted my arms behind my back while the other began hitting me," Edward clenched his free fist so hard, his knuckles were white. 

Oswald continued, "I tried to fight but couldn't do much, and none of my loyal men were around, no guards too. It was my shameful mistake to go through that hall alone, I honestly deserved that beating for being so careless," he frowned and shook his head. 

"Then one of those idiots decided to taunt me some more, he groped me and forced my mouth open to kiss me," his face twisted in disgust. Ed felt a bestial growl forming in his throat and bit his lip to hold it. "His tongue had tasted horribly foul. But it got a little better when I bit it off and washed it away with his blood," he finished with a cruel smile. 

"My savage Penguin," Ed praised. "I'm glad you're okay," he finally relaxed and stroked his bird's hand before they returned to their dessert. 

"I'm stronger than I look, you know that," Oswald winked playfully. 

"Are those two maggots still alive?" 

"Yes, they are. According to my experience and a fair number of examples, death can be too easy of a punishment. So one of them is now mute, and the other lost his right arm to the elbow. What a terrible accident that was, when it got stuck between the bars of one of my men's cells," they shared a malicious laugh. 

"Still, I felt it wasn't a good enough lesson for others who might think it's permissible to touch me without too grave consequences. So, the mute one tried to kill himself when he learned that he would never see his wife and parents again. The armless one won't have a home to go back to when he's released, only ashes." 

"Well, good for them. Still, I think I'll have some fun with them in my own way someday."

Oswald huffed a chuckle, "Alright, darling, whatever you want. We might 'invite' them to our dinner date, revisit some fond memories," he winked, and could Ed be even more in love with this man? 

"With pleasure," he purred and caressed Oswald's uninjured ankle with his foot under the table. "And what about Brickface himself? How will you kill him?" 

"I'm not going to," Oswald shrugged. He explained after Edward's appalled gaze, "I don't need to kill him because I don't want to take his place. Brickface is exactly where I want him; he'll play his role just like I need him to. Even though he won't know who's pulling his strings and probably won't suspect they exist at all." 

"But don't you need to teach him a lesson too, make an example?" 

"I do, and I will but not as severely. I need to show him that even though I'm more powerful, I'm not gonna contest his position. As for the incident, Brickface sent his unfortunate lackeys just to deliver me a message to not challenge him; the method and the poor execution were on those two imbeciles." 

Oswald refilled his cup of tea and put another slice of chocolate cheesecake on his plate. 

"Now, let me tell you about a real example I've made of one Spencer Pierce, it was before that incident." 

To say the Riddler was impressed with Penguin's machiavellian schemes would be an outrageous understatement. He was immensely proud of his devious future husband. And also relieved that Oswald's reputation was partially restored now, and he'll be safe from small brainless common criminals. Of course, that opened up a whole new level of dangerous predators, but Penguin knows how to outwit them and navigate those waters, where the muscle is not the only advantage a player can use. He will thrive there. 

"Are you done with your dessert? We could go cuddle on the couch," Oswald suggested with a soft smile. 

"Oh no, I'm not nearly done, honey," Edward smirked and gracefully rose up. 

"I'll forgive you that pun, but only this once," Oswald warned playfully and accepted his hand. They moved towards the big couch in front of the TV. 

They sat nestled close to each other, sharing their warmth as well as stories from their time apart. They raged and laughed together, happy to finally speak with someone who understands, without the need to pretend, deceive, or hide behind masks. It was good to have like-minded temporary allies in Arkham, to banter, plot an escape with them or discuss scientific theories. Still, nothing and no one could ever be compared to Edward's best friend and partner resting his head on his shoulder right now and giggling at how Killer Croc was briefly charmed and controlled by Ivy and didn't even realize it afterward. 

Much later, when their most exciting stories were told, and they wanted more tender cuddles, Ed settled with his back to the soft cushions and Oswald on his lap, both men pressing closer to each other, starved for every little bit of contact they could get. They sat like that for a long while, just being nestled together, synchronizing their breathing and heartbeats, happy to be finally home in love's embrace. Then Ed began peppering Oswald's neck and jaw in small pecks, gradually getting towards his bird's lips.

They kissed softly and slowly at first as if getting used to the feeling anew, remembering what and how they liked, savoring every touch and smiling into each other's lips. Glasses and monocle found their rest on the coffee table nearby. Gradually, Oswald became more insistent, and Ed followed suit by pushing him to lie on the couch and crawling on top of him. With time, he removed the excessive layers from his bird, leaving only underwear. Oswald switched their positions and did the same to Ed, without breaking the heated kisses more than necessary. Finally, they got skin-to-skin contact they craved for nearly two years, both moaning and grasping at each other. 

"Oh, Ozzie… I don't want you to leave," Ed whimpered when Penguin moved to ravish his neck, licking and nipping exactly how they both love. He didn't care how selfish that sounded; he just couldn't bear the thought of the sparse minutes with his beloved fiancé slipping away. 

"I'm not going anywhere, not yet," Oswald purred into his ear. "Don't even hope to get away that easily." 

"I wouldn't dare," Ed huffed. "So, how long do we have? Can we at least fall asleep together tonight?" 

Oswald chuckled and looked into his eyes. "Eddie, we can sleep together and wake up together. I should have five days if nothing urgent happens."

Ed sat up a little, surprised and impressed. "How in the world did you escape prison for five days unnoticed? Do you just come and go as you please now?" 

"Well, I'm good but not that good, unfortunately," Penguin huffed. "Officially, I am now being held in solitary for attacking a guard. And my associates will 'release' me right before their shift is over. I must be back by then." 

"That's amazing, Oswald. We could even go out, do something wicked together before you leave," he said, gently stroking his bird's freckled cheeks. "What do you think?" 

"We certainly can, my love," Penguin mirrored his mischievous grin. They both missed having all kinds of fun together. "I wish we could meet with Martin, but they're on a trip to Europe now. Did he tell you about it?"

Ed hummed with a nod, he was so happy to receive a letter about it from Martin over a month ago. That boy deserves to have all the excitement he wants, it's great he has loving people to care for him and show him the world. 

Then another idea came to Edward.

"You mentioned before, the Blackgate's Warden will be difficult to deal with. Did you settle that?" he sat more comfortably, placing Oswald's thighs over his own and drawing his fiancé by the waist so that they could cuddle more closely together. 

"I didn't, not yet. Warden Stein doesn't know about this little arrangement, and heads will roll if he finds out. Including mine, I suppose. I'll deal with him eventually, probably before going to the High-security wing. I'll need as much support as I can get in there." 

"We might go pay him a visit some of these days," Ed suggested, eager to have some sinister fun with his partner. 

"No, it's too soon now, and he mustn't know about my plan. I'm preparing a nasty trap for his niece; reporters are so easy to lure and manipulate. I'll need something substantial to subtly and quietly make him resign; I don't want him to know who organized this. And I also don't want Jim to trace the new Warden to me after I pull some strings and appoint someone more cooperative."

"My illusive Penguin," Riddler praised, gazing at him with pure adoration, stroking his pale stomach that fluttered deliciously under Ed's warm fingertips. "Well, let's do something on one of these days together. It wouldn't do to let people forget who the Riddler is, even if my beautiful partner prefers to stay in the shadows lately." 

"We'll think about that later," Oswald nodded. "But in the meantime, I remember to have made you a certain promise about that last night we had together..." he smiled coyly and ran a hand over Ed's chest, down his stomach, and rested it on his hip, hooking the fingers over the waistband of his underwear. 

"Oh yes, we wouldn't want you to break it," Edward murmured, bringing their lips together once more. 

Chapter Text

On the second day, Oswald needed to leave the hideout and meet with Olga. He promised to be back within two hours, which was perfect for Ed to go as well and get something he stored in one of his bases. He'll do everything right this time. 

They've returned almost at the same time. Ed had only managed to shrug off his coat and start making them tea before he heard the door open. Edward approached his fiancé to share a brief sweet kiss. The small box inside his jacket's inner pocket was sending waves of warmth and excitement, making his heart flutter faster. 

"What's that?" Ed asked as he took a package from Oswald's hands to let him come in. 

"Olga cooked us a fresh cake, your favorite this time, the green velvet one. So we'll have to eat that grass-colored atrocity now," he huffed. 

"You can pretend to dislike it, but we both know who of us will eat most of it," Ed pecked his fiancé on the cheek reddened from the chilly air outside. Oswald rolled his eyes as he toed off his shoes. Riddler's sweet tooth bird can eat a cake of any color as long as it's good. And Olga never once made a bad one. 

Ed excused himself to the bathroom; he needed to gather his thoughts. Oswald walked to the counter to cut the cake, and Edward locked the door behind him. 

He took a deep breath and withdrew the small velvety box from his inner pocket with shaking hands. 

For crying out loud, stop being so jittery. Riddler snapped, staring at him from the mirror with an unimpressed gaze. You proposed him already, and he said yes — nothing to worry about now.  

"But what if he doesn't like it?" Ed muttered and opened the dark-green box to reveal the engagement ring he prepared for his fiancé. 

On the soft void-black velvet laid the intricately curved vitalium ring with a big deep purple diamond in the middle. One of the most durable metal alloys glinted with chrome silver, vibrant and almost multidimensional, it gathered in overlapping broad waves around the centerpiece. The diamond was the perfect shade of purple indigo, incredibly multifaceted, seemingly containing a whole universe inside its enigmatic glittering depth. Ed had almost lost all hope to find this shade that Oswald loves so much instead of the more pink and pale diamonds, even though they tend to be slightly more expensive. 

The gemstone was carved and trimmed in perfect symmetry; the shape resembled the top of an opened umbrella, lines carefully cut to create a miniature copy of eight ribs holding the 'cloth' stretched. The association was further strengthened by the small vitalium prongs holding the gem in place at the ends of the eight lines, looking like metal tips of the umbrella ribs. Unfortunately, the top itself, the 'ferrule', had to be slightly rounded so it wouldn't cut through the gloves. Still, a punch with such a trinket is sure to break a nose, jaw, cheekbone, or any other bone Oswald might target: a knuckle or a rib perhaps. The chosen materials are almost impossible to destroy, and damage to Penguin's hand wouldn't be even nearly close to the one he'd inflict on his victim. And it's not all of the ring's perks. Ed really went all-in on this one, he desperately needed to make up for that sloppy proposal. 

Oh, he'll like it alright,  Riddler chuckled, his image in the mirror disappeared. 

"Right," Edward breathed. "Okay." 

He closed the box and carefully pocketed it back before leaving the bathroom. 

In the main room, Edward was met with a peculiarly romantic setting. Most of the overhead lamps were turned off or dimmed so that they wouldn't outshine the arrangement of candles on the dining table. A bottle of wine and two glasses were standing next to the two smaller plates with neat pieces of grass-green cake with white frosting. 

In the middle of the table stood a small vase with a beautiful bouquet of purple, green, and white lotus flowers. Edward didn't know how Oswald managed to procure them, but certainly understood and appreciated the sentiment. Lotus held the universal meaning of mystery and enlightenment. It was also a symbol of rebirth and superiority: a beautiful flower growing and blooming among the mud. Ed didn't know if Oswald meant it as a compliment only to Riddler or as a reference to their relationship that rejuvenated through pain and bloodshed. Either way, he was touched and flattered.

Oswald stood up from his chair and smiled at Ed, a little nervously as it seemed. 

"Alright, Oswald, you piqued my curiosity," Riddler admitted, smiling softly at his fiancé, who shuffled from one foot to the other. "What's this about?" he asked, approaching and studying the table contents and his partner. 

Penguin exhaled a steadying breath, apparently gathering up his courage, took another step closer to Edward, cleared his throat, and spoke, looking him in the eyes.

"You make me to give me away. I'm always yours, but don't belong to you. What am I?" 

Ed's breath hitched in his throat. "A riddle? Did you compose a riddle for me?" he couldn't believe his ears; it was such a precious and even intimate gift from Oswald.

Penguin lightly rolled his eyes with unconcealed fondness and nodded.

Ed gaped at him for a few long moments before sobering up and remembering that he's supposed to answer.

"A present?" he guessed quickly, but then doubted. "Or a promise. It could be either, both answers fit. I know it should be one, but-..."

His anxious rambling was interrupted by Oswald cupping his cheeks and pressing their lips together for a few sweet seconds.

"It's actually both, my love; you're absolutely correct," he smiled and then shocked Edward by lowering smoothly on one knee. 

"Edward Nygma, my beloved fiancé," he began confidently, looking up into Riddler's eyes. "I don't suppose that any gift, word, or action would ever convey the infinite depth of my love to you," he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a small black box. "But it never hurts to try," he smiled and opened it, presenting Edward with a magnificent ring settled in the dark velvet. 

Ed apparently forgot that he had to breathe, so he forced his lungs to work when he was already getting lightheaded. Breathing didn't really help his weakened knees and frantically fluttering heart. 

"This is both a present to show my love and devotion to you and a promise to immortalize and display them with this ring and the one more I'll slip onto your finger later," he gave a slight wink. "I'm dreaming of a day you'll become my husband. And I hope this little accessory will make that future feel more real," Oswald finished with his soft smile and shining eyes.

Ed stood gaping at him like a fish out of water. It was a rare occasion when Riddler couldn't find words, but he had long since stopped being too shocked by Oswald's ability to render him speechless. 

"May I?" Penguin chuckled at Edward's no doubt dumbfounded expression and gestured for his hand. 

"Oh!" Ed regained his tongue with a sudden gasp. "Yes! Yes, sure, please, Ozzie," he sputtered and gave his trembling hand to giggling Penguin. 

Oswald took the ring out of its velvety bed and slid it onto Edward's ring finger. It settled perfectly. After a tender kiss to Ed's knuckles, Oswald released him to study the ring, and Riddler was eager to do so but not before helping his fiancé get up on his feet. Penguin stood next to him, wrapping an arm around Edward's waist and watching him bring his hand higher, turn it from side to side under the warm candlelight and a lamp behind them. 

Ed couldn't tear his eyes away from the ring. The metal was strangely not cold on contact. It had silvery color but more white than silver itself, and even platinum, but didn't have that chrome effect, like vitalium, or dusty matte, like tungsten. Riddler deduced the metal was titanium from how it looked and felt: this metal's low thermal conductivity is the reason it doesn't feel cool upon the initial contact with the skin. The band was far from the ring's main attraction, though. 

Inside the swirly patterns of the metal intricately interlacing with each other, there was a stone carved in the shape of the question mark. Though, 'carved' might not be the best word to describe this; it didn't even look like a stone. It resembled a spilled gob of viscous shamrock-green liquid. There seemed to be light shining from inside of it, or rather transmitted through it but captured inside. The set of small white diamonds outlining the question mark caught the surrounding lights and illuminated the peculiar material from all sides, enhancing the illusion of soft green glowing. The diamonds were just the right size to provide the fancy sparkling but not outshine the ring's main beauty. 

Ed carefully ghosted his fingertips over the stone, unconsciously careful to not disturb this bubble-looking translucent liquid material. But it was solid to the touch and didn't spill from the ring. 

"It's jadeite," Oswald explained, chuckling with amusement at how Ed was stroking the bulging smooth question mark. 

"It's incredible," Ed breathed. "Oswald, it's absolutely fascinating," he turned to look at his proudly smiling fiancé. 

"Just like its new owner, this ring is not only gorgeous on the outside but has a hidden value as well," he said and produced a small black device from his pocket. It looked like a thin cell phone with a screen and number pad with letters. "Titanium is not the metal I would've chosen at first, but its poor electrical conductivity — and I hope I remembered it correctly — allowed the master I've been working with to weave a few wires through the inside of the band without any danger to the wearer." 

Riddler looked at him in astonishment, then studied the ring more closely. How was it even possible to make such a tiny contraption inside the band? And how was it working? 

"... He said you could program it on this thing to trigger basically anything," Oswald continued meanwhile, turning the device in his hands. "I suppose 'anything' may include a bomb or whatever you might think of. I'm sure you'll find a good use for it," he chuckled. 

Ed finally found the switch; it was tiny and inconspicuous. The band was almost entirely seamless except the thin outline of the flat button on the palm side of the ring. It's easily reachable by his thumb but prevents any occasional pushes. Ed pressed it experimentally, and the small screen on the device in Oswald's hands lit up with '?' in the middle. The myriad of ideas and possibilities instantly ignited in Riddler's mind; he'll have so much fun with this thing! 

Ed enveloped his fiancé in a sudden and a tight hug, cutting him off mid-sentence as he was explaining — or rather repeating what he had to memorize by heart — how to program it, what range does it have and other specifics. Oswald gasped lightly at being caught in a firm embrace and eagerly hugged Edward back. 

"I'm glad you seem to like it," he murmured in Riddler's ear and pressed a kiss to his cheek when they unwrapped from the hug. 

"Like it? I absolutely love it!" Ed exclaimed giddily, and Penguin beamed at him. "I can't believe you've made it for me! How? When?" 

"Always with your questions, Riddler," Oswald teased with a fond smile. "I hired a master, he works in StarLabs, and the ring was delivered to Olga only a couple of months ago." 

"You bothered with this when you were in Blackgate?" Ed breathed in disbelief, deeply touched by the sentiment. 

"What do you mean, 'bothered'? You're always my priority, and it was one of the very few pleasant things I had to do with my time there," he huffed. 

Ed couldn't resist bringing their lips together, breathing his 'thank yous' against his beloved fiancé's soft skin. Oswald blindly put the mini-computer for programming the ring's button inside Edward's jacket pocket. Which suddenly reminded him...

"Ozzie, that's so not fair!" Ed complained lightheartedly, breaking their kiss with a whiny chuckle. 

"What?" he tilted his head like a bird, softly smiling at him. 

"First, you make me love you so much that I make an impromptu proposal without any planning whatsoever," he shook his head. "And now you give me an unspeakably fantastic engagement ring before I could present yours even though I did plan it this time," he huffed and pulled the green box from his pocket, amused by Oswald's soft gasp. 

To his sentimental bird's further pleasure, Ed lowered himself on one knee and looked up into the wide eyes of different colors. 

"Oswald Cobblepot," he began. "I wanted to say the day you said 'yes' to my shamefully ringless proposal was the happiest day of my life. But in truth, every day I spend with you by my side is the happiest. You make me happy, Ozzie," he smiled at a sparkling tear making its way down Penguin's flushed cheek. "I can't wait to call you my husband, but for now, I'm more than delighted to have you as my fiancé," he finished with opening the box and presenting the ring nestled inside. 

Ed could drown in Oswald's gleaming eyes reluctantly leaving his own to look at the ring and widening at the sight. Riddler gently took his bird's warm fingers and slid the jewelry in place. A beautiful addition to the beautiful hand. Ed pressed a kiss to the knuckles of his King of Gotham and rose up, relishing at the way Oswald's mouth fell open and eyes shone even brighter, apparently lost inside the purple diamond's endless multifaceted glittering. 

"Eddie... It's..." he swallowed. "It's so beautiful," he whispered in astonishment. 

"Well, just like my lovely fiancé, this thing is not only stunning but also dangerous," Ed murmured and with a practiced movement pressed and turned the diamond slightly, releasing it from the prongs and showing the gem to Oswald. It was almost symmetrical except for the not-rounded pointy tip on the opposite side. 

"You can break hardened bulletproof glass with it if you need to," Riddler said. "Or punch somebody into a bloody mess," he added and showed how easily the gem could be inserted back in the ring but with a dangerously sharp 'umbrella' tip. 

Penguin studied it with even more worship and gave an experimental punch to the concrete wall. The diamond left a solid impression even without Oswald's full force in the hit. Neither the ring or the knuckles received any damage at all. Without saying anything else, Oswald pulled Ed down by his tie and stood on his tiptoes to meet him in a passionate kiss. Ed took it as a good sign. 

—?—

[Shh, A dam, listen to me. I want you to play along with me on this...]

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Oswald groaned. "This movie is a torture, Edward!" 

"What?" he chuckled. "You've seen much more gruesome things than two guys stuck with a corpse inside a bathroom with imminent sawing off one of their legs," kinda spoiler, but it wasn't even a plot twist in the first 'Saw'. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Eddie, that's not why it's torturous. It's painful to watch how this idiot refuses to kill a random guy he was told to kill even though his family is at stake," Oswald complained. "Are all Gordons that difficult?" 

Ed cackled; he didn't even consider one of the main characters' name. Oswald snorted too and pressed his lips to the top of Edward's head. It was the afternoon of the third day of Penguin's short leave from prison. They decided to watch a movie and cuddle: Oswald reclined on their soft couch with his shoulder blades on the armrest and cushions stacked under his back. Ed settled between his thighs, resting with his back to his bird's front and slowly stroking Oswald's arms wrapping his middle, entwining their fingers and making their new engagement rings occasionally clank softly together. Empty ice-cream bucket with two spoons stood on the coffee table along with a discarded unfinished bag of chips. Both men couldn't seem to stop eating these days; all food tasted so differently as if it was the first time they tried it. 

"It gets more interesting closer to the end. And the plot twist is not entirely stupid, although admittedly predictable," Ed defended his choice of the movie. 

"They don't have that many characters to make a surprise villain of. Because this panicking idiot is definitely not the main bad guy and a mastermind who designed all those games. Also, I have a feeling this Dr. Gordon won't have a happy ending, considering his name and that you chose this movie," Oswald huffed. 

"No, stop the deduction, Ozzie. Keep watching; it'll get much better very soon," Ed insisted and pulled Oswald's bad leg onto his lap to give it a massage while they finish the movie. 

Oswald softly moaned from pleasure and rubbed his nose in Edward's recently cut hair, pressing a few kisses there before returning his focus to the screen and scoffing at the failure to fake the required murder by the characters. 

As usual, Ed was right: Oswald became intrigued by the plot development and amused by the final reveal of the mastermind behind everything. 

"It gets even more fun in the next parts, the games more creative and meaningful. The main bad guy gets a whole group of followers, and police don't know who to hunt because anyone could be creating those deadly traps." Ed said as he shifted and turned to lie on Oswald chest-to-chest, looking into his loving eyes and feeling steady heartbeat below the palm he placed under his chin. 

"I wouldn't mind if you also found yourself some sidekick," Oswald huffed and gave a slight ruffle to Edward's hair, lovingly petting him. 

"Pfft, no minor thug can ever comprehend the whole genius of my schemes," Riddler said. "I hire them if I need something done, but they're not even close to being a part of my team." 

Oswald nodded. Like no one else, he knew how difficult it is to find trusted people in this business. 

"Still, would be nice if you could divert the GCPD attention from yourself and fool them into thinking you're not their target," he mused. "Act behind their back while they thrash the city looking for the Riddler but not Edward Nygma. And then you could reveal the truth with a big boom. I thought that's what you liked about these movies," he straightened Edward's glasses. "Besides the deathtraps, of course," he chuckled.

Hmmm... Our clever bird might be on to something there...  Ed felt shivers running through his spine but couldn't quite explain it yet. 

"I just don't want you to get hurt again," Oswald murmured and gently stroked Ed's side close to where the scar tissue covered his latest gunshot wound. 

"Said my fiancé who's preparing to go back to the wolves in Blackgate," Ed scoffed. 

"How dare you remind me of that right now," Oswald winced. "I demand you to come here this instant and take my mind back away from it," he murmured and pulled Ed higher to bring their lips together. 

—?—

That night Ed couldn't fall asleep. Something was bothering him; thoughts buzzed, quivered and scattered without forming anything intelligible. Try as he might, Ed couldn't get them straight or make them fade; even Oswald's warm form tucked next to him and gently snoring couldn't lull him like it usually does. He carefully dislodged relaxed limbs wrapping him, and got up after planting a soft kiss onto the ruffled black feathers. Might as well do something productive with that time. 

Riddler dressed up to go for a walk. He needed to get some supplies, and it might bring a little clarity to his inexplicably stumbling thoughts. Ed wasn't too troubled by his current state of mind, but rather thrilled about it. It usually preceded some revelation or an idea, an inspiration. He wanted it to form sooner, it almost hatched, he could feel it, and his body gave occasional jitters in anticipation. A little jumpstart might help sort everything out. 

Even underground, he could hear the muffled rhythmic rattling of the raindrops onto the iron roof of the warehouse. Ed donned his most casual clothes: jeans and a dark-green checkered trench coat. He didn't have any other headdress aside from his trademark bowler hat, which could be a total giveaway. Thus to protect himself from the rain, Riddler took Oswald's long umbrella before quietly leaving their cozy hideout. 

He emerged to the chilly air and breathed in the moist air of Gotham's rain and river nearby. They were in one of Oswald's warehouses on the pier in Coventry District, just across the Arkham Island. This place was convenient for its proximity to the Asylum and because it wasn't far from one of Riddler's workshops. It also contained a small market with the rows of humble but sufficient shops down the street only a few blocks away. Ed opened his umbrella and headed there, accompanied only by his shadow dropping under the dirty-yellow glow of the street lamps and drowning in the streams of rainwater rushing to the drains. 

When is the worst weather for mice and rats? Riddler suddenly sounded in his head. 

"When it's raining cats and dogs, obviously," Ed muttered, his voice muffled by the rapid rattling of the drops on his umbrella. "Why?" 

But his only answer was amused laughter only Ed could hear. He shrugged; a randomly remembered riddle was nothing unusual for him. 

The market street was abandoned at this time of night and in this weather. Dimly lit rows of different kinds of stores soon became a blur: clothes, bags, radio equipment, utensils with engravings, cell phone repairs, TV sets, optical shop, hardware supplies... Finally, Riddler found what he was looking for: a humble but neat tobacco shop greeted him with a stylishly carved wooden logo 'Gentleman's smoke shop'. He closed the umbrella and approached the front door. 

When is door not a door? 

"When it's a jar," Ed answered instantly. "Your point being?" he asked more impatiently.

But once again, the answer was a burst of merry laughter. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

When are eyes not eyes? The lively voice in his head distracted Edward and his cold gloved fingers dropped the lockpicking kit.

"When the wind makes them water," he spat with annoyance, bending to pick up his tools. "Can you stop distracting me and shut up if you have nothing to say besides random wordplays?"

This time, there was a thoughtful humming instead of teasing laughter. 

Picking the lock and swiftly disabling the alarm was a routine at this point. Ed took out the small flashlight from his pocket and began searching for a small gift for his now smoking partner. 

There, perfect!

Ed chose a case with a black and ivory cigarette holder. It had a few filters installed already, and he will add a few more to protect his beloved bird's lungs. Edward picked up a few tools he will need to tinker with the thing later, carefully put them into the inner pocket of his coat, and left the shop. What to do next, that is the question. 

When is the answer in the question? He heard Riddler's voice again, this time to the side. With a groan, Edward turned to look at his reflection in the big glass front window of the shop. 

Besides reflecting a looker's own figure, the glass was also adorned with elegant thin lines of brown and beige paint, all gathering into the silhouette of a gentleman in a long trench coat and bowler hat. One of his hands held a pipe with a few swirling white lines of smoke rising from it. Gentleman's other hand elegantly propped his relaxed form on a cane.

"In a riddle," Ed answered without hesitation but with rapidly rising irritation. What was it with these questions? 

Why riddle? His reflection asked, smirking.

Ed tilted his head, not understanding what he meant. Did that brewing idea finally decide to reveal itself to him, or was his troubled mind just playing another trick to torment him? Or was it merely another random riddle? 

Why do we ask riddles? Why do we love riddles? What is the meaning of all riddles? The reflection elaborated, approaching from the other side of the glass. 

"A riddle reveals the asker," Ed moved closer as well. "But it also hides him, covers everything with the veil of mystery. Riddles give power over those who can't comprehend, unable to grasp the purpose behind the words."

Good. Edward's reflection nodded and leaned forward a little. Tell me, how did you feel when you paraded into the GCPD building to give yourself up? Bleeding but in control? Unarmed but threatening? Denying those brainless monkeys the satisfaction of defeating you? Laughing in their gaping faces? Riddler waved his hands, grinning with wild light sparkling in his eyes. 

"Powerful," Ed breathed, taking another step closer to his reflection.

Exactly! You had absolute power because they had no idea what you were up to this time. You were an impeccable mystery. An unattainable enigma. A Riddle incarnate! He growled, grasping his gloved hand into a fist.

Edward's whole body shivered. This was akin to the first time he acknowledged his true nature and became one with it. A transcendent and sublime deep feeling of grandiosity washed over him and made his breath hitch and heart race faster. 

"And you have an idea on how to play on that power?" 

We've gotten predictable. Riddler stated with regret and disgust. Creating puzzles for our schemes is not enough anymore. We need to step up our game, add mystery to its subject, he motioned between them, so that its objects can't follow the familiar pattern anymore.

"So that was the point behind your questions earlier?" Ed gaped, the sudden revelation felt like it short-circuited his heart for a second. "They weren't random, you asked riddles about words that were literally on my mind or before my eyes. Covering seemingly obvious simple things with puzzles, thus making everything frustrating and obscure, consequently disguising your true intentions and misdirecting my attention... Unbelievable," he whispered, impressed to no end by his own complex layers of mind games and also slightly aggravated by his failure to see it all before.

Fascinating, isn't it? Riddler beamed proudly.

Ed couldn't disagree, he swallowed and nodded. "What do you propose we do?" 

Tool of thief, toy of queen. Always used to be unseen. Sign of sorrow, sign of joy. Can also act as a decoy. What am I?  His reflection asked in return.

"No, that's ridiculous," Ed shook his head with skepticism.

Perhaps. But it will work if we play it right. Riddler winked from the other side of the glass. It's about time we brought some good old chaos and flashy theatricality into the play.

"Suppose so, but-"

"Who'd fuck' r you blabbrin' to?" a slurred grumble harshly cut him off and brought Ed back to reality. 

He turned to look at the disruption. It was a pair of clearly drunk male specimen dressed like they just crawled out of a dumpster, which probably wasn't far from the truth. They stood at the corner of the 'Gentleman's smoke shop' and studied Ed with swollen red eyes, both drenched in the rainwater. Only now Riddler noticed that he was freezing from the raindrops soaking his hair and sliding under his collar — he didn't open his umbrella after leaving the shop.

"Whats' in 'ere?" another one asked, taking a shaky step forward and looking into the glass window of the shop.

"You can see nothing else when you look in my face. I look you in the eye, and I will never lie. Who am I?" Edward asked and scrunched his nose at the stench of cheap booze and rotten trash emanating from two hobos. He glanced at his image in the mirror glass and was disgusted to see that it was joined by these two worthless wastes of space. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose and observed the reflection of the street around him to make sure it's empty aside from his unexpected company. 

"Wha?" he grunted. 

"He's crazy, 'nother fuckin' loonie ran from Arkh'm," the first snarled and turned the bottle he was holding so that it became a weapon. A frail stream of yellowish liquid slid down his hand and disappeared under the greasy sleeve.

"Give yer fuckin' clothes 'n money, crazy shit," the second withdrew a knife from his pocket. Even his weapon was tarnished and rusted, barely glinting in the yellow streetlight as two living trashbags advanced on Ed.

With a swift movement, Riddler lifted his closed umbrella and struck one of the hobos across the face with its metal tip, evoking a pained groan and a splash of blood from his mouth, landing on the glass window beside the gentleman's silhouette. The second one tried to stab with his knife, but Ed took one step aside to evade it while intercepting the umbrella closer to its ferrule with the other hand. He hooked its curved handle over the attacker's ankle and yanked sharply, causing the man to lose balance and plummet on the pavement. The first one recovered from the hit and took a shaky step towards Ed, hunching defensively and brandishing his dirty bottle. Riddler could simply withdraw his own knife and plunge it into the idiot's throat; he'd have no problem overpowering a drunk hobo. However, he hated the idea of approaching that animal's reeking personal space, it was too sickening already. Penguin's umbrella allowed him to keep at least some distance and, hopefully, save his clothes from their blood and his nose from their stench.

The moron with a bottle tried to take a swing at Ed but was stopped by the umbrella breaking his 'weapon' in pieces that flew around and released another wave of cheap booze stench. The attacker howled and doubled down when another hard blow from the metal ferrule landed on his abdomen. With his full force, Riddler smashed his weapon on top of the drunk's head. He collapsed to the ground face first, and soon dark blood began pooling around his cracked skull, reddening the rainwater flowing down the road into the drains.

His alcoholic pal tried to crawl away from the Riddler, mumbling slurred 'sorry' and 'take it easy man', but all was in vain. One more blow across the face dropped the idiot on his back again. Even with his alcohol-veiled vision, he probably managed to grasp the finality of the umbrella ferrule quickly approaching his bared throat. The blunt metal tip buried itself in the soft flesh with a satisfying squelch and then left it to gush blood on the wet asphalt freely. 

Finally, the only sounds once again were the rattling of the raindrops upon the various surfaces around Riddler. He wiped the blood from the tip on one of the hobo's dirty clothes. The rain will do the rest on his way. The umbrella turned out to be a surprisingly efficient weapon; no wonder Penguin liked it so much and had it reinforced so it wouldn't break from this unconventional use. 

"The answer was 'reflection'," Riddler shrugged, not even looking at the two corpses at his feet. 

He cast one last glance on the painted silhouette of the gentleman with a cane on the glass window.

"Which is the largest room in the world?" Ed smiled and opened Oswald's umbrella to protect himself from the pouring cold rain.

The room for improvement. His reflection correctly mirrored the elated glow in his eyes and the predatory curve of his grin. Shall we get to work?

Chapter Text

Oswald wasn't even surprised when he woke up without his fiancé in his arms. Ed was noticeably distracted and almost absent the whole afternoon, which could mean only one thing: he had something important on his mind. If it was good or bad news remains to be seen. 

Ed returned in the early morning when Oswald couldn’t ignore his rising worry any longer and spent about half an hour pacing around the room, debating if he should call Edward or if it would seem too intrusive and mistrustful. Finally, the door opened, and Riddler slipped in, holding Penguin’s umbrella under his arm and carrying two bags of considerable size. There was no telling what was in there. 

"Morning, dear," Oswald breathed a sigh of relief, approached him, and reached up to have a greeting kiss. Ed barely reciprocated, hastily placed the umbrella at the doorframe, and proceeded to drag his baggage towards the dining table. Oswald tried to reach out and help, but Edward dismissed his attempts with a slight shake of his head. 

"Everything alright?" Penguin enquired, probably doing a bad job at masking his concern.

"Yep," Riddler panted. Those bags looked heavy. "Better than alright, it's amazing!" he exclaimed giddily. It was both endearing and worrying because the scene reminded Oswald all too painfully about another time Ed returned home late and much happier than he left. Certainly, it's nothing like that, but involuntary years-old associations couldn't help but make him feel uneasy once again. 

But he wasn't going to spoil Edward's cheerful mood with his petty anxieties. Oswald nodded with a small smile and turned to the kitchen to get them breakfast. 

"Oswald?" Ed called to him with sudden seriousness. Penguin turned and saw his fiancé looking at him with an earnest apology. The bags laid discarded on the floor. "I-I'm sorry I left so abruptly... I needed to get something, I thought-" 

Oswald stopped his apology with a warm smile and a raised hand. "It's alright, Edward. I noticed you had something on your mind yesterday, I understand," he nodded and felt his worries dissolve at the sight of his beloved looking at him like a kicked puppy. "You don't have to explain yourself. I just couldn't help but worry a bit, that's all."

Riddler reached him in one stride and wrapped him in a tight embrace, which Oswald was more than happy to return despite Ed's coat being drenched in rainwater. 

"Thank you for understanding, my love," Ed whispered and pressed a kiss to his temple before drawing back with a wide smile, squeezing his shoulders in excitement. "But you needn't worry; I can handle myself." 

"I know that," Oswald huffed. "But I can't always tell my heart how to feel," he shrugged and tugged the soaked coat from his partner's shoulders. Only his shirt's collar was damp. Aside from it, his clothes were dry, luckily. 

"Always?" Ed laughed. 

Penguin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Go on already, do what you do," after a quick but proper kiss this time, Ed nodded and headed back to his stuff. "I'm making breakfast, will you eat some?" 

"Uh, no, not now," Ed muttered apologetically. "If that's alright with you..." 

"It is, dear," Oswald chuckled. "I'll leave you something on the counter, and I expect you to eat by the time I return. And take a hot bath or shower, you were soaking in the rain all night; I'm not letting you get sick on my watch," he warned.

Ed nodded with a fond roll of his eyes, mumbling something similar to 'ok, mom' under his breath, which Penguin decided to pointedly ignore. 

"What made you go outside under the rain in the middle of the night, anyway? If you don't mind me asking." 

"When is a bright idea like a clock?" Riddler grinned. Oswald arched an eyebrow and shrugged. "When it strikes one!"

"Oh," he huffed and shook his head, looking with warm fondness in his chest as Ed left his bags next to the dining table and started to unload some tools, gadgets, wires, metal bars, and cloth on top of it. It seems they'll be eating at the counter table or on the couch from now on. "Will you share it with me?" Oswald inquired as he headed to the freezer. 

"Oh, certainly!" Riddler lifted his head from the small metal box he was holding and gave him a wink. "You'll be the first to know," he promised before returning his attention to his project. 

Oswald smiled at the endearing picture. Now that his worries were effectively dismissed, nothing prevented the pure love he felt filling his heart at how his gorgeous man was blazing with energy despite probably not sleeping for even a few minutes last night. Ed can go on for days when an idea strikes him, and Oswald knew better than to distract him or try and make him take care of himself right now. He will still endure all that grumbling to make Edward eat something and take a shower, but it could wait a bit. Oswald also had some business to settle while he's out of Blackgate. 

—☂— 

Penguin returned to the hideout late at night. He didn't plan on being so long, but he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of staying at the Iceberg Lounge for a while longer to observe its everyday routine. It was going perfectly well even without his constant presence. His manager was competent enough to settle most of the issues and was consulting with Penguin through his lawyer when he had to. Olga came to check on the club's sanitary and culinary standards every few weeks so that the high bar Oswald set for his establishment's status wouldn't fall in his absence. 

Ed wasn't there when he returned, but the food he left for him was visibly hastily half-eaten and the air in the bathroom was still filled with soapy scents. Oswald noticed a long thin box wrapped with a grass-green ribbon and a note pinned under it. Oswald read it first. 

'What has no legs, or wings to fly, and without arms can climb the sky? I'll rest much easier if I know your lungs are at least somewhat protected from the smoke you inhale. This little gift should help with that. Hope you'll also find it a stylish addition to your elegant fashion.

Left to do some stuff in my lab and will return late. Oh, and don't worry, Mr. Penguin, your fiancé is alive, warm, healthy, and well-fed. Very excited to show you what I've been working on. Evening can't come soon enough. 

For you, always. Ed'

Oswald shook his head and couldn't help a fond chuckle when he read the first letter of each sentence. Riddler just can't help himself, and Oswald would be lying if he said it wasn't extremely adorable. 

He opened the box, and his smile widened even more at the sight of Ed's present. The cigarette holder was black with ivory; the polished surface was gently gleaming in the lamplight. Oswald picked it from its bed and studied it from all angles. The only prominent thing was the carefully engraved umbrella sign. No, not just an umbrella. The curved handle was definitely too swirled and arched to be simply a handle. It was a question mark, and its dot was probably hidden on the umbrella shaft. Seems like Ed couldn't help himself here too, and it was impossibly endearing. 

Penguin was eager to try it. He took out one cigarette and fixed it in place. He lit it and took a long drag, trying to discern any changes. Despite — or thanks to — no doubt numerous filters Ed installed to protect his health, the holder delivered smoke that tasted more refined and rich than usual. Oswald was already glad to be smoking expensive cigarettes after a year of cheap foul rolls. But this was even better. And it looked majestic. With his suits, cigarette holder, umbrellas, canes, and monocle, the only thing Penguin’s noble image was lacking is a top hat. Easy enough to fix, really. 

Oswald finished his smoke with a happy smile playing on his face and went to take a bath after his long day. Hopefully, Ed will return by the time he's out. They didn't have too many hours left to spend together for now. 

A bath was the third thing Penguin missed the most in Blackgate, after good food and, of course, his beloved fiancé. He took his time soaking and relaxing in hot water. When Oswald was drying himself with a towel, he heard the muffled shuffling in the main room. So Ed did return, Oswald smiled to himself and dressed up in his black silk pajamas and a fluffy crimson dressing gown. 

"Edward?" he called, emerging from the bathroom. 

Oswald froze with his hand still on the doorknob. The room was illuminated in emerald green neon, with their yellowish-white lamps turned off. Ed was standing with his back to him, and there was an unusual air about him... He was even more radiant than always; he seemed untouchable and somehow greater than just a human being. Penguin couldn't put his finger on what exactly was different, but the atmosphere around his partner changed, became more vibrant and mysterious. 

"Riddler?.." Oswald whispered because the entity before him was, without a doubt, the Riddler himself. 

"Rrriddle me this!" Riddler’s voice sounded. Except it wasn't entirely his voice, it was distorted, with electronic hints to it, slightly echoing on itself. Oswald was momentarily startled because it was eerily different but, at the same time, similar to Edward's voice. For a moment, he considered grabbing the first item he can and using it as a weapon against the intruder but quickly realized that no other person on this planet would dress up like that and make a show for him. 

"I'm sometimes concealed, sometimes stay in plain sight. Through logic and knowledge, seek treasures I hide. I'm often a question to challenge your wit. If you find the answer, my task is complete. Who am I? " he spoke with a more sonorous and gleeful timbre to that distorted voice than the usual low rumble Riddler preferred. That's an interesting contrast. Unexpected but peculiar. His voice was indeed giving a slight mechanic echo. From somebody like Scarecrow, it would've sounded disturbing at best or just off at worst, but it oddly fits Riddler, adds this bit of ostentatious showmanship he relishes in. 

Oswald was so mesmerized by the display and sound that he didn't even start searching for an answer. Instead, he studied Riddler’s back turned to him. On his green trench coat, there was a large black question mark neatly painted over his back. His head was lowered, Penguin could only see the brim of the bowler hat. When Ed was asking his riddle, he didn't make broad flamboyant gestures he usually does; his hands were apparently clasped together before him. It was hard to tell if he was holding something or not. Riddler’s whole body was deliberately frozen, taut like a bowstring ready to let go. 

"Um..." Oswald finally considered what he was asked. It wasn't too tricky once he thought about it. "The answer is a riddle?" 

Penguin finally closed the bathroom door behind him but didn't move to his partner. Somehow, he felt he wasn't supposed to right now. Riddler wanted to demonstrate something, and Oswald would hate to disturb this enchanting performance. 

Riddler breathed a short echoing chuckle. "Not just a riddle," he purred. "The Riddle!" he finally spun around and spread his long arms. One of his hands held a polished black cane with a silver question mark as its handle. The other elegantly tipped the brim of his hat; his new ring was glinting on his little finger, worn atop black leather gloves. 

However, most strikingly, there was a silky green mask wrapped around his head, perfectly accentuating the razor-sharp cheekbones, with his dark eyes blazing from behind the neatly cut holes. There was also a green question mark on his black bowler hat. His tie's green color was a few shades darker than his suit; a silky black shirt peppered with tiny green dots, and a velvety black vest accentuated his acute figure and delicately sharp angles. Overall, Riddler was literally the only person who could make this obscene attire work, but he did it splendidly. 

He was sporting his smug smirk, visibly pleased with Oswald's astonishment. And Penguin indeed was positively stunned by his partner's renewed image. Riddler was practically glowing with his wild energy; it almost seemed like his whole body vibrated from the overwhelming grandiosity. For a moment, Oswald felt shamefully inadequate next to this godlike entity, self-conscious in his homey clothes and with a towel-ruffled damp hair. But his thrill smothered that notion as he slowly approached Riddler’s lustrous form. It was like being drawn by a magnet, walking without even giving his legs an order to move. 

"What do you think?" Ed asked in his normal voice. Penguin didn't even notice when or how he switched his voice modulator off. "How do I look?" he spun around with arms spread wide.

"Beautiful…" Oswald breathed after a few long minutes of wordless gaping at his sumptuous partner. It all seemed so powerful and significant like it was Riddler’s third becoming. And, thankfully, this time, Penguin was here to witness this spectacular event. 

"Why thank you," Riddler purred and took a step back with one long leg to give a theatrical bow, winding his cane behind his back and his free hand to his chest. 

Oswald huffed with fondness and once again ran his eyes over the tall green figure. He was gorgeous. Ridiculous in his flamboyant swagger but magnificent nonetheless. 

"Isn't mask a bit of an overkill, though?" Penguin couldn't help asking while Riddler stood with his chin held proudly high, obviously relishing in Oswald's admiration. 

"Au contraire, my feathered friend," he smirked. "It shall be one of my main instruments for becoming what the Riddler was always meant to be: the Riddle itself," he hovered his free hand over the lower half of his face so that the jadeite question mark of his ring was outshining his unmasked features. 

Oswald didn't pretend to understand what his fiancé meant. He arched an eyebrow, silently prompting to elaborate and gazing into dark eyes sparkling in the emerald neon light. 

"You inspired me, Oswald," Ed said earnestly and with a soft smile. "With your own daring plan and with what you said yesterday. I'll make them all look like total idiots swiping the city searching for the Riddler with Ed Nygma in their plain sight and entirely out of suspicion. It's gonna be my greatest riddle yet." 

Penguin was getting less and less excited by the direction this all seemed to be heading. 

"I'll challenge those degenerates, we'll see if there's any worthy opponent to my brilliance. I highly doubt it. And then I'll reveal to the whole world how utterly inferior their intelligence is to mine! But right now, I'd like to invite my beautiful partner to witness me place the first piece of the puzzle," he murmured and gallantly took Oswald's hand in his. "How about a little visit to Warden White?"

"Eddie," Oswald swallowed. "Please don't tell me you mean what I think you mean." 

Because this could only be one thing. 

"What can be more mysterious than a man in two places at the same time?" Riddler grinned. Oswald helplessly shook his head at the loss of words; he was hardly qualified to judge this decision. "Imagine Gordon's face when he burst into Arkham to demand why they didn't report a dangerous inmate missing, and there I am like I never left."

Ed laughed, squeezing Penguin’s arm with excitement. 

"Ed, no, you can't go back there!" Oswald yanked his limb from Riddler's hold. "How can you treat this as some game?!" he threw his hands in the air, not believing Ed was seriously considering going back to Arkham willingly. 

"Why shouldn't I?" Riddler shrugged, still smiling. "It's not just any game, it's gonna be metagame: layers and layers of deception and misdirection. Isn't it fun?"

"It's not!" Penguin shrieked, headache rapidly building behind his forehead. "You don't even grasp how terrifying it was for me to learn of your injury and arrest, do you? I thought they were gonna torture or kill you or worse, and there was nothing I could've done even if I got out. I thought I'd lose you!" he started his tirade angrily, but finished desperately; his voice broke on the last words and he didn't care for tears welling up in his eyes.

"But you didn't, I'm perfectly fine," Ed reasoned calmly, he wasn't smiling anymore. "Don't think I haven't considered all the risks I'm taking, because that would be frankly insulting. And you, Oswald, of all people, don't have any leg to stand on in the matters of voluntary imprisonment," he huffed a chuckle.

"Is this your way of getting back at me for that?" Penguin bristled. Breathing became intolerably hard over the sharp lump in his throat. His emotions were tearing between bitter anger and dull hurt, settling somewhere in between and forming long needles driving into his heart. "Because if it is-"

"No! " Ed rushed to assure him, blindly tossing his cane on the bed and enveloping Oswald's frame in the embrace of his long arms. "It came out wrong, I'm sorry, my little bird. I didn't mean it like that, I promise," he pressed his lips to Oswald's temple, banishing the angered half of his feelings. "I meant I also worry about you but I know better than to doubt your abilities. I only ask you to return the courtesy and don't doubt that I know what I'm doing," he pulled back but didn't remove his hands from Penguin's shoulders, slowly massaging and looking him in the eyes. 

Reluctantly, Oswald nodded, he really had nothing to contradict Edward this time. It didn't make him feel better about Riddler's crazy ploy. For a brief moment, he wondered if that's how Ed felt about Penguin's plan before coming to terms with it.

"But, Ed," he tried still, even though he knew it was futile to hope Riddler would change his mind when he has already made a decision of such gravity. "You don't have to stay in Arkham to fool the police. You can just as well do it at home. Hell, you can even work in the GCPD again right under Gordon's nose and still pull this off." 

"That's actually an intriguing idea," he chuckled, gently wiping a tear from Oswald's cheek with his gloved thumb. "But having to suffer the company of those dull imbeciles? Never again." 

"So, the company of unstable lunatics is better?" 

"Yep, definitely," Ed nodded, not noticing Penguin’s sarcasm. "They're hardly my friends, of course, I have no illusions on that. I know every one of us can kill another without batting an eye. But it's honest and mutually beneficial relationships. And we have a modicum of respect for each other, even though none of them show a proper appreciation for the sheer power of my brilliance. Not yet, at least," he smirked and didn't comment on Oswald's involuntary eye roll. 

"Besides," Riddler purred slyly, tracing a finger down Oswald's chest. "Don't deny you wouldn't like having a reliable agent amongst the Gotham's craziest, Mr. Penguin," he winked. 

"I don't deny it," Oswald huffed. "If you were anyone else, I would even implore you to go there and inform me of any notable developments. But I'm not gonna risk your safety for my networking opportunities." 

"I know, my dear," Ed murmured. "And you don't have to. I'm doing this for myself. Providing you with the extra insight will be merely a delightful bonus. I've made up my mind, Oswald," he said gently but with a determined finality to it. "I know you're worried, but you shouldn't be. I told you, Arkham now is not what it used to be; nobody cares about anyone; it's basically a free hostel. An extremely poor one, with inedible food and closed doors, which leads back to my offer," he smiled. 

"You want to negotiate your conditions with Warden White," it was more a statement than a question. "That shouldn't be too much of a problem, fortunately. He's always eager to cooperate for the sake of his own prolonged comfort and safety," Oswald nodded and then noticed the expectant look in the eyes behind the mask. "You want to go now?" 

"Why wait?" Ed purred. 

He sighed, there was no stopping this incorrigible man. "Then, at least wait for me to change into something more appropriate. Seriously, Ed, couldn't you warn me to dress up before standing here so gorgeous?" Oswald grumbled, eyeing his after-bath clothes. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Ed giggled and went to turn on their regular lamps. 

Oswald shook his head before shrugging off his dress robe and heading to the bathroom to get his hair in proper shape. Ed followed him and watched with a soft smile on how Penguin carefully arranged his spikes. He said once that Oswald reminds him of a bird even more than usual as he plucks, cleans, and styles his feathers. 

Getting dressed later became increasingly difficult due to Riddler’s hands wandering around Oswald's body with the initial intention to help but instead distracting and preventing his skin from being covered. 

"Ed, that's so not helpful," Oswald huffed when hot lips pressed onto his neck, getting in the way of buttoning his shirt. 

"Uh-hum," Ed hummed against his skin. "Can't resist you, too sweet, my bird," he murmured while ravishing Penguin’s neck and jawline. 

Oswald giggled, his fingers moved from his buttons to the back of Riddler’s neck, traveling up his short cut hair and stopping at the silk knot of his mask right under the brim of his hat. 

"We could stay," Penguin suggested softly, giving a slight tug to the green cloth. 

"Such a temptation, my love," Ed whispered in his ear. "And I'll gladly give in after we're back," he said before pressing a tender kiss on his cheek and taking a half-step back. 

Oswald smiled at his gorgeous partner. How he manages to look so magnificent and ridiculous at the same time, he will never know. Riddler’s eyes looked deeper and bigger due to the black makeup around them. Penguin couldn't wait to see it properly after he'll take that mask off. 

"I thought you didn't like wearing contacts," Oswald remarked as he looked into the dark eyes above him while Ed's long fingers skillfully fastened the tie around his neck. "Or are you going half-blind for the style?"

"It wouldn't be much of a style if I tripped and fell," Riddler snorted. "I'm still getting used to the contacts, but it's much better this time. I only once tried cheap ones when I was in university, and they made my eyes itch," he explained and smoothed the tie against Oswald's chest. "These are the best quality; I don't feel them half the time."

As Penguin was adjusting his cufflinks, he finally got a better look at Riddler’s cane. The handle was harshly carved into the question mark with rough, uneven edges. There were visible few buttons at its base right where the polished black shaft began. 

"Did you take my cane?!" Penguin demanded when he recognized the slight crack in the polish from that incident when he smashed a thug's skull with the stick in a feat of rage. 

"I knew you wouldn't mind," Riddler shrugged, picked his cane up and gave it a spin. "What? You have another one right here," he reasoned under Oswald's appalled stare. 

"Unbelievable," Penguin grumbled but couldn't muster even the slightest irritated tones. He finished buttoning up his black trench coat. 

"Hmm," Riddler mused, eyeing his cane intently, turning it in his hands. "Perhaps I should make it golden." 

Penguin could only shake his head with fondness at his flamboyant partner. He grabbed his umbrella, and that reminded him. Oswald briefly claimed his fiancé in a sudden fierce kiss, chuckling at his surprised mewl. Without explanation, he walked to the counter and picked up his new cigarette holder. 

"Do you like it?" Ed asked with fragile childish hope so contrasting with his current grandiose image. 

"I love it, Eddie," Oswald smiled and put the item in his breast pocket after giving a stroke to the engraved umbrella with a question mark. 

"Huh..." he mused as he eyed Riddler's renewed garments up and down once again. Ed tilted his head, but Oswald didn't elaborate as he walked to the closet and opened the small jewelry chest. He hid his little present in one hand and gestured for Ed to come closer with the other. 

Oswald inwardly thanked Riddler for choosing the plain dark-green tie. The question mark tie pin looked like it was always meant to be here, its platinum glinting gracefully complemented but not outshined Riddler’s bright clothes. Oswald brought it here hoping to prepare some sort of a short fun quest that would lead Edward to the accessory on his birthday so that Penguin would still give a gift to his fiancé even if he doesn't make it out of Blackgate that day. Oh well, he'll just have to come up with another one later. Somehow, this occasion seemed no less appropriate for a birthday gift. 

"Do you like it?" Oswald asked, stepping away to let Ed see his new trinket in the mirror. 

Edward's eyes sparkled as he gazed at his adorned tie; he opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to find words. With an abrupt movement, he wrapped Oswald's frame in a tight embrace, whispering shaky 'thank you' in his ear while gently rubbing their cheeks together. Oswald happily hugged his fiancé back, nuzzling at the cool silky material of his mask pleasantly contrasting with warm skin below it.

Despite all his ostentatious self-confidence and inflated ego, Ed sometimes showed how tender and love-starved the child inside him is. He gets so immeasurably happy at every little gift and sign of affection, preens at every bit of recognition and praise. At times like these, Oswald remembers that unlike him, Ed was denied that warm parental love as a kid. Finding presents under the Christmas tree or blowing the candles on birthday cakes probably weren't natural things for him growing up. It makes Oswald's heart weep for his sweet Edward and how much he didn't deserve all that neglect and misery. But it also hardens his resolve to lavish Ed in so much love that it will hopefully fill at least a bit of that void left by his upbringing. 

"Thank you, Ozzie, it's marvelous!" Ed continued to gush over the trinket, turning in front of the mirror and gazing at how the silvery platinum softly reflects the light. "But why? What's the occasion?" 

"Well, seeing how you placed a few more question marks all over yourself, I supposed another one would fit nicely," Penguin shrugged and took his umbrella. 

"It fits perfectly," Riddler accentuated with an 'ok' sign, smoothly slipping back into his self-confident persona. "Shall we?" he offered a hand with a giddy grin, and Oswald was happy to accept. 

"Lead on, my green Zorro," he said and snorted at Edward's over-the-top affronted gasp. 

—☂—

Warden White lived in a two-story old house with his wife, but most of his nights he usually spent in his office in Arkham. There was a separate entrance to the administration part of the Asylum, with no guards and very few cameras Ed easily disabled. 

Soon they reached the elevator and Warden's vast office with a living area on the top floor. Penguin had to wait in the hallway while Ed was picking the lock, inspecting the place, and preparing it for his presentation. Naturally, Oswald got bored soon, so he stepped into the office. It was stuffed and messy, not unlike the adjacent living room he glimpsed through the ajar door. The place smelled like unwashed sheets and old paper. To pass the time, Penguin sat in the chair and studied the ledger, not missing an opportunity to find some extra dirt on the Arkham board. 

Finally, Riddler quietly called for Oswald to enter. He stood at the foot of the bed, straightening his clothes and clearing the throat, voice modulator turned on. Penguin leaned on the wall next to the window, not drawing attention to himself, still flipping through the pages of the ledger, slightly distracted by the loud snoring in bed. Moonlight wasn't the best for reading, but Oswald saw enough.

Riddler took his cane and pointed its bottom tip to the sleeping man's face. He pressed a button, and a bright green beam lit Warden's features. The man frowned and stirred for a second, before jerking awake with a start. 

"Wha... What?!" he stammered, voice rough from sleep, flailing his hand to bat away the blinding light. 

Ed turned the light off, took his cane back and stuck it in the floor before him, leaning with both hands on the silvery question mark. 

Warden blindly reached for his gun on the nightstand, scrambling to sit on the bed. Oswald wasn't even startled, and Ed's unchanged posture confirmed his confidence. 

"Who's there?" the Warden demanded shakily, pointing his gun before him, and rubbing his eyes with the other hand. 

"I, the Riddler, will be the one asking questions here!" Ed declared, and Oswald was once again startled at the changed voice echoing on itself. Riddler took a step closer, and moonlight spilling from the window on the side of the bed illuminated his green-clad figure. He must look so marvelous from Warden's perspective. 

"No, no way..." the man breathed, squinting at Riddler. 

Warden White's hand holding the gun trembled, and he pulled the trigger. Edward's cruel smirk widened at Warden's pained yelp as the weapon misfired, giving a shallow blast in the man's hand. He whimpered and cradled his hurt limb to the chest, the gun fell to the floor with a muffled clank. 

"Please, don't hurt me," he whined, seemingly trying to drown into his pillow and the metal bed headboard in feeble attempts to scurry away from the menacing green masked figure. Riddler stood impassive like a terrifying apparition, holding a dramatic pause. 

"Now that I've got your attention," he began with a cheer contrasting the situation. Warden White was visibly frightened, he pulled knees to his chest, trying to seem smaller. 

"Riddle me this!" Ed threw his cane into the air and caught it with a showy flare. He held the question mark handle like a microphone to his mouth. "Which Arkham Warden suffered the most terrible fate at the hands of one of his former patients?" he asked, and with a whirl to his cane pointed the handle in Warden's direction, prompting him to answer. 

"Uh... uhm... War-den W-White?" he whimpered barely audible. 

Riddler's echoing laughter drowned the man's mumbled pleas for mercy. 

"Your answer is..." he spun the 'microphone' back to himself. "Wrong! That was Warden Reed. Have you seen what Scarecrow did to him? Terrible indeed," he giggled, the Warden seemed only slightly relieved. 

"Although that depends..." Riddler spoke with sudden seriousness. "Your answer may turn out to be right yet," he stomped the bottom of his cane on the concrete floor, and Warden White jumped on his seat at the sharp sound, cowering under Edward's hard glare. 

"Please, Mr. Riddler, I'll do anything!" the man begged, putting his palms together. "I won't tell anyone, I swear!" 

Ed pretended to consider him. 

"Hmm… What do you think, my friend Penguin?" he asked, turning his head to him. The Warden gave a whiny gasp when he noticed the second criminal standing to the side in the shadows next to the window frame. "Should I trust his word?" 

"Please, Mr. Penguin, please!" Warden White begged him, shaking and crying helplessly. "I did everything as you wanted, I set Mr. Nygma free." 

"That is true, he did indeed," Oswald drawled as he slowly approached Riddler, both men not even looking at the cowering man on the bed. "I suppose you could try negotiating with Warden White," he stopped shoulder to shoulder next to his partner. "Or we could just 'vacate' his position and place someone else, that's always an option," he shrugged with indifference. 

Warden's sobs became louder and more hectic, he was close to hyperventilating. "Please, please, please, don't kill me," he shuffled to kneel before them on his bed. "I'll do anything, please, I swear on my kids' lives!"

Penguin scoffed. "At least he's not swearing on his wife's life. I don't think he treasures her too much, what with all the lovers he buys." 

"Ooh, naughty Warden," Riddler laughed. Warden White gulped and trembled, now distraught even more with his dirty secret out. The added unspoken threat of blackmail was clear. 

Without the need for a verbal agreement, both criminals turned their full attention to the sweating terrified Warden. They stared him down, and the man seemed to wish he could dissolve into his blankets. 

"Please," he begged quietly and pressed his trembling palms together, lowering his head. 

"Say, Warden White," Riddler said flatly. "Have you reported about Edward Nygma missing from your care?" 

"I-I... No, sir," he whimpered barely audible. Oswald wasn't even surprised; the Warden was phenomenally lazy and probably simply didn't want extra problems with an escapee. It's never good for reputation and causes too much paperwork. "I'll do it, r-right now, sir," he rushed to crawl from the bed but was stopped by Riddler’s cane landing hard on his shoulder. 

"Did I give you permission to move?!" Riddler growled over the man's pained whining and mumbled excuses. His harsh voice distorted and reverberated, creating a truly menacing sound. Oswald couldn’t resist a hungry glance at his partner's sinister wolfish grin. Riddler’s perfect white teeth glinted in the dim moonlight, as did his dark eyes behind the mask; the jagged hook of cane's question mark handle seemed like a sharp claw of a gargoyle. Penguin’s magnificent predator. 

"You will not report of Nygma's disappearance. As far as you're concerned, he never left the premises. Is that understood?" Ed demanded. 

"Y-yes, yes, of course, Mr. Riddler... But... aren't you Edward Nygma?" he asked carefully. And he was right to be apprehensive as the next second the base of Riddler’s cane struck him across the jaw. 

"Now-now, Warden. Didn't we determine already who is asking questions here?" Riddler’s playful chiding contrasted with the Warden's pained sobs and scarlet blood sliding down his chin. 

The contrast became even starker when Ed turned his cane's handle and, after a click, withdrew a long thin blade that reminded Oswald of an épée. Of course, Riddler wouldn't settle for a mere dagger the handle kept before, he attached a whole sword instead! Oswald didn't bother holding back his amused smile and exaggerated eye roll at the sight of his dramatic partner pointing the tip of the needle-like blade to the base of Warden's neck, merely a slight push away from breaking the skin. 

"You need to adhere to the rules strictly if we're gonna do this with you keeping your life and prosperity. Can. You. Do. It ?" he punctuated harshly, moving the tip of his sword into the wrinkly skin. It drew a trickle of blood that trailed down Warden's chest and reddened his grey nightshirt. 

"Yes, yes! I promise, I swear to do as you say," Warden agreed eagerly, afraid to move an inch. 

"Hmm... You do seem to grasp the severity of your situation," he contemplated, and Warden gave a small shaky nod and breathed a whimper. "Very well, I guess I'll give you one chance, Warden White," Riddler decided, and sheathed his blade after wiping the blood from the tip on the bedsheets. "So, since we won't be relying on your own sense and reason, I'm gonna establish some ground rules for our arrangement." 

Ed waited for the Warden to nod his understanding. The man still didn't dare to move much, ignoring the blood on his lips and chest. 

Oswald quietly moved to take a seat on the battered armchair, admiring his green-clad partner from the side. It was Riddler’s time to shine and Penguin was thrilled to witness his glory. No matter how absurdly flamboyant it will be.

"The first and the main rule: you will not tell, whisper, sing, write, type, or communicate in any other verbal or non-verbal manner to anyone or anything even a single word about our agreement. It stays between the three people currently present, and will not be discovered by other parties. Nod if you understand."

Warden White gave a steady nod, slightly more composed now. He was still trembling and cowering, but he did listen to every single word Edward uttered, sitting on his heels with hands on his lap. 

"Excellent. Rule number two: you will address me only as Mr. Riddler or Mr. Riddler sir," he declared. Oswald rolled his eyes and barely restrained from snorting at his partner's ridiculously overblown ego. "If you need to ask a question, raise your hand and wait for permission." 

Warden nodded again. 

"Rule the third: you will allow a safe and secret escape passage out of this facility to Edward Nygma per his request," he waved his cane, motioning at the walls around them. 

Warden's eyes widened, he cautiously raised a trembling hand. But Riddler wasn't done talking. 

"Now, I know what you're thinking: why would I, the Riddler, want Mr. Nygma to be freed on demand? Well, riddle me this: would a sixty-seven-year-old man rather know the answer to a mystery that doesn't concern him, or continue to draw air into his lungs?" 

Warden White sat silently until he managed to comprehend the meaning of that question. 

"I don't wanna know, please!" he exclaimed and shook his head rapidly. 

"Correct!" Riddler nodded with light cheer in his voice. "See, you can be reasonable, after all! I guess we really can make this work. And, I guarantee that Mr. Nygma also plays fair: to return the favor, he promises to come back under your care here on his own will and by the same discreet way," he made a pause to let it sink in. The shock was obvious on the Warden's face. "Think of it as his secretive vacations. You will never report on his absence, and won't have to deal with the legal fallout of his 'escapes'," he did air quotes and chuckled. 

After a minute of mulling, Warden raised his trembling hand once again. "You may ask one question," Riddler allowed. 

"H-how will I know when to release him?" he asked timidly. For all his flaws, Warden White didn't survive for so long by being a complete moron; he knew when he was in no position to argue the authority. 

"You'll know, rest assured," Ed promised with a chuckle that echoed mechanically. "Rule number four: I reserve the right to add or change any rules whenever and however I see fit." 

"And finally, rule the fifth: your staff must not, under any circumstances, force Mr. Nygma to take any medication without his consent. The rule doesn't apply to tranquilizers if absolutely necessary and if the same treatment is done to the other inmates present. Confirm if you understand all the listed rules and ready to abide them unequivocally." 

"Yes, of course, Mr. Riddler, sir," Warden nodded, much more composed now that he had a set of instructions to follow without too much disturbance to his comfort. 

"Good, very well. Note that I might ask you to repeat them at any time, and you better not mix anything up," he waved his cane from side to side in a 'no-no' gesture. 

"I won't, I have a very good memory, I swear," Warden kept nodding like a bobblehead doll. 

"You know what?" Riddler considered the man, and Warden tensed anxiously. "Since you're being so cooperative, I want you to have even more profits from this arrangement than only getting to keep your head on your shoulders. I'll pay you five times worth of your monthly salary every time you give Mr. Nygma a free unhindered passage. What do you say?" 

Warden gasped and gaped at him. "Oh goodness gracious, thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Riddler!" 

"In the spirit of such generosity, I have a demand of my own," Penguin chimed in from his seat in the shadows. 

Warden White jumped at the sound of his voice, apparently too focused on Riddler that he forgot of another dangerous criminal in the room. Not that Oswald blamed the man, he knew first hand how utterly bedazzling Ed can be. 

"I'm doubling Riddler’s offer with one condition: you will stop stealing money from the budget for Arkham's patients. I know a farm owner, and he spends eight times as much money on the rations for his pigs as you spend on people," he spat angrily. 

Warden opened his mouth with an obvious intent to protest, but Penguin cut him off. 

"Don't even dare to try denying anything, I see it all through your feeble machinations with the numbers here," he waved the ledger. Even in the dim white moonlight, Warden's face visibly paled. "And don't get me started on the other costs of maintaining, so outrageously inadequate to what is given to you by the city. This stops right now, and from this moment forth, you will maintain your patients with as many expenses as you're supposed to. You will also personally check on their rations' quality and hire proper cooks. Understood?" Penguin asked in a tone suggesting that a negative answer is definitely not the right one. 

Warden was smart enough to comprehend the severity of the situation. "Yes, I promise, Mr. Penguin! I'm sorry, it's just-" he stammered hastily. 

"I don't need your apologies or excuses. I need you to do what is demanded of you for the reward we offer."

"Yes, of course, sir. Thank you for your generosity." 

"I'm taking this with me," Oswald brandished the ledger once again. "We wouldn't want you to think that your past sins won't be able to reach you later, would we?" 

"No, sir... I-I mean, yes! I mean-" his fumbling was stopped by Riddler’s laughter and Penguin's raised hand. 

"I want you to remember that both Riddler and I will be watching you. As you can see, walls and bars can't hold me, your little fortress failed to stop us. And believe me when I say that you don't want me to come here ever again," his gravely uttered threat had a good effect, as Warden once again started visibly trembling and sweating. 

"Riddle me this!" Ed announced, spreading his long arms. Oswald wondered if that's Riddler’s new motto. It's obnoxious and almost silly but strangely fits him. "What question can you never answer yes to?" 

Warden White opened and closed his mouth, clearly at a loss but afraid of punishment. Riddler gave a short condescending laugh and pointed the bottom tip of his cane to the man's face. The green light was lit once again and blinded Warden, who clenched his eyes shut. 

"Don't strain yourself, Warden. Go back to sleep instead," Riddler chuckled and clicked another button under the handle. 

The next second, a small wave of grey gas hit Warden White in the face, and he collapsed onto his bed after inhaling the air with a startled gasp. 

"Should I hold my breath?" Oswald asked, getting up from his seat. 

"Nah, no need," Ed answered with his normal voice and turned to him with a satisfied smile. "It's a highly concentrated small dose, it won't reach us," he approached Penguin and claimed his lips in a short but heated kiss. "Although I still suggest we get out of here. This place smells."

Oswald chuckled and led the way, hand-in-hand with his love, almost feeling how their warmth seeped through their gloves. He couldn't wait to get back to their hideout, take off those extra layers and ravish his lover all night long. Give proper congratulations on Riddler’s renewed image and ploy. 

—☂—

Oswald woke up to hot lips slowly mapping his chest with kisses and ran his hand through the silky curls in familiar movement. Ed hummed and pressed himself even closer, nuzzling at Oswald's skin and murmuring a riddle Penguin didn't even bother guessing still half-asleep. 

They cuddled and kissed till early afternoon, forced to get up only due to their physical needs and grumbling of empty stomachs. They almost plummeted to the floor in the shower when Riddler deepened the kiss and attempted to lift Oswald up the wall. Luckily for Ed, Penguin was in a good mood and didn't scold him for too long, preferring to ravish those soft lips once again under the hot stream. 

Penguin and Riddler spent the rest of the day together, talking about their respective plans and ambitions, about possible obstacles and opportunities. Oswald was beginning to come to terms with Edward's decision, and they were thinking of a way to communicate from within their voluntary chosen cages. 

After the Riddler's arrest, Penguin managed to negotiate less strict rules for his visitors. Now anybody could visit, but only with the presence of his lawyer. Ed wasn't restricted at all since he was less likely to hire an army of goons to break him out. So they settled on letters Oswald's lawyer will deliver to him personally and exchange with Ed under a fake name. It will have to do until they find a way to establish some phone connection. 

Soon after midnight, the two criminals drove to the Narrows, Penguin had one more 'business meeting' there. Even though he didn't need to kill Brickface or remove him from his position, he did have to teach the gang leader a lesson about the extent of his power and the danger he poses. Oswald won't tolerate such insolent attacks by common criminals on himself anymore. 

The Narrows were restoring slower than other districts. It took so much damage and suffered from neglect for so long that not many people lived here now. Not dissimilar to what it was before, the Narrows now attracted only junkies and homeless with its few remaining abandoned buildings. And, it was a convenient lawless place for scrambling lower criminals. That's why Penguin knew where to look for the man he needed: Brickface's brother. He was currently hiding with a few more bikers in one of the small battered houses due to be demolished in a few months.

They approached the only house with lights on. It was poorly guarded by one man loudly snoring on the garden armchair with an assault rifle in his lap. The yellow light seeped through the half-torn blinds behind the window onto the dark street, reflecting on six shiny bikes parked just outside. Riddler quietly withdrew his long blade from the cane and punctured the sleeping biker's throat. The man never woke up and didn't stop two criminals from silently entering the house. 

Penguin hooked his umbrella on his lower arm holding the handle of his shotgun and prepared to use the weapon if needed. Riddler beside him cocked the semi-automatic handgun, carrying his cane between his upper arm and body. They didn't plan on using their firearms that night. Oswald didn't need to kill all of those Street Demonz, it would be better to have them as available muscle on the outside. He only wanted to threaten them and take Brickface's brother's signature silvery brass knuckles with skulls engraved in them as a trophy to demonstrate his power and reach. 

It didn't go as planned. 

They proceeded to the living room, guided by the sounds of laughter. Oswald peeked behind the corner to assess the situation and froze, distantly feeling the shotgun shaking in his hands, and breathing catching in his throat. 

In the stuffy room filled with cigarette smoke and the stale smell of sweat and cheap alcohol, there were five guys, clearly intoxicated. They sat at the table, playing cards; beer bottles and cans scattered on the table and floor. But all that wasn't what drew Penguin’s attention. 

There was a girl. A little girl, not even in her teens, was handcuffed to a radiator. She was blindfolded and curled in on herself, messy black hair splattered on white shoulders mostly turned purple and green from the multiple bruises covering them. There were shallow cuts and bruises visible everywhere her ragged dirty dress didn't hide them. She tried to lean away from the hot radiator, but handcuffs didn't give her much room to move. 

The girl whined when the metal of cuffs dug into her swollen wrists. The next second, half-empty beer can hit her head, making her release a pained yelp. 

"Shuddup, bitch!" the brute who threw the can growled. "Or you spend 'nother week in'a basement," the threat caused the girl to whimper and curl up even more. "What, dinn' liked the boiler, huh? Then shut that hole o'yours or my boot 'll do it," his slurred promise was supported by leering snorts from others. 

The girl sobbed, her shoulders shook violently, but she tried to stay quiet. 

Only a few seconds of witnessing the scene had Penguin's blood boiling like it hadn't in a long time. Through the rising adrenaline, he noticed the distant ache in his upper arm. He glanced at it and saw that Riddler’s gloved hand was harshly grasping him in a blinding fury, apparently equal to his own. Edward's ragged hot breath ghosted on his hair, Oswald could feel with his back the tension in his partner's body. Penguin leaned to him slightly, and his arm was instantly released after a gentle apologetic caress. He placed his umbrella on the floor, and it was soon joined by the cane with a question mark handle. This was not a time for an elegant display of power or show of wits, this will be a bloody massacre, and both men knew that. 

Without the need to coordinate verbally, Penguin and Riddler stormed into the room in unison, guns trained on the gambling brutes. 

"Who da fuck are you?!" one of them noticed the intruders, dropped his cards and started to reach for the gun on the table. 

In a different scenario, Penguin would've threatened him to stay put, perhaps dropped a sarcastic comment, and Ed would've asked a riddle. But the situation was beyond their control the moment they entered the room and saw that girl. 

The biker barely touched the handle of his gun when Penguin pulled the trigger, his shotgun thundered and the spray of bullets tore the man's hand. One of his fingers landed on the floor, his shattered white bones turned scarlet from blood washing over them. 

Then the whole room succumbed to chaos. Penguin and Riddler both intentionally shot not to kill but incapacitate. When they ran out of bullets, their preys were successfully disarmed and wailed in their blood, agonizing but alive. The two enraged criminals didn't bother reloading, but instead lunged at the bloodied brutes, kicking and hitting them with their guns. The blood flew everywhere, sobs and cries of the bikers mixed with wet sounds of their flesh surrendering to the blunt weapons and crackling of their bones. 

"You feel like a man by hurting a child ?!" Riddler growled. He didn't use his voice modulator but still sounded like nothing Oswald had heard from him before. It was raw desperate hatred, the voice broken by fury and age-old hurt, turned into a mindless roar. "Do you feel powerful NOW?! " He lowered a metal bat he picked up onto one of the bikers; it was followed by the unmistakable crack of broken bones and another anguished wail. 

Penguin wanted to get a proper look at his partner but he was too busy with gouging out the second eye of another thug with a piece of a broken beer bottle. These were the last living victims, others stopped breathing a while ago, only the gory mess was left of them. As the man in his arms released his last choked sob and went limp, Oswald felt his mind slowly returning to him as his rage-induced adrenaline subsided. 

He let the dead body in his hands drop on the floor, leaving the bottle piece in the still slowly leaking out eyeball. Oswald glanced at his partner. Riddler was still swinging his bat, aluminum produced wet crackling sounds as it landed on the body over and over. His last victim was dead already, but Ed didn't slow down. Penguin had no intention of stopping him: for Edward, this all was probably even more overwhelming than for him. Seeing and saving a tortured child was perhaps somewhat cathartic as an echo of something he dreamt about during his own years of abuse. 

Oswald left Ed to his devices and turned his attention to the only other living person in this room. The girl curled into a tight ball, biting on the heel of her thumb to muffle her crying. Her bruised shoulders were shaking, and skin was covered by a sheen of sweat from the hot radiator mere inches from her. She was still blindfolded, which was fortunate. 

Oswald ruffled through the pockets of the gang's leader, apparently. He was the third to die. It was Brickface's brother, judging by his trademark brace knuckles Penguin withdrew from the pocket along with a set of keys. 

"Um... Young lady," he started carefully, half of the room away from her and not yet approaching. The girl whimpered and tried to cover her face with her other hand. "It's alright, you don't have to fear anymore. You are safe now, I swear," Oswald murmured as softly as he could like trying to placate a terrified wild animal to free it from a bear trap. 

The girl didn't react, but that probably wasn't bad. 

"I have a key to your handcuffs. Will you be okay with me coming closer and freeing you?" he asked quietly and was thankful that the whole room was now silent — Ed seemed to have finished his rampage and was now coming down from raging adrenaline high. 

After a few minutes, the girl removed her hand from her mouth and gave a slight shaky nod. 

"Alright, thank you," Oswald breathed and moved to her slowly, all the while speaking so that she would know how close he is and wouldn't get startled. "I know you have suffered a lot. But that's over now. I'll unlock your handcuffs and help you get out of here, okay? I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise," he whispered as he was kneeling next to her curled frame. 

"I'm here, I'll unlock them now," he murmured and gingerly turned one of her hands to get access to the lock. To his relief, she didn't flinch as his gloved fingers made contact with her bruised skin. Her sobs were gradually subsiding. 

Oswald turned the keys and very carefully freed the swollen purulent wrists, not touching them but tugging her hands by the fingers out of the opened metal circles. 

"There, that's over, you did very well. Thank you for trusting me," he whispered. 

She reached one hand to her dirty blindfold soaked with tears and started to tug it off. 

"No!" Oswald said a bit too harshly and internally cursed himself as the girl yanked her hand away and flinched from him, pressing to the hot radiator, and releasing a pained whimper. "Sorry, I'm sorry, it's okay. I'm not angry with you, I promise," he hastily added much more softly. He wanted to reach out and pull her away from the scalding metal but restrained himself as it would've probably scared her even more. "Please, I have to ask you to keep the blindfold on for a little bit longer. You shouldn't see all of this. Can you do that for me?" 

To his great relief, the girl nodded and pushed away from the radiator.

Oswald turned to Ed, who was observing the scene with concern and support. It was visible how he also wanted to approach and comfort the hurt child but knew it wouldn't help anyone right now. 

*Can you bring that body inside?* Penguin signed and got a confirming nod in response before Ed stepped away from the bloody mess and walked to the door. 

"No, don't worry, he's with me," Penguin placated as he saw the girl tensed at the sound of footsteps. "He helped me free you from those men who hurt you. They're all gone and won't hurt you again," he assured and the girl's shoulders slightly relaxed. 

"Do you think you can stand?" Oswald asked. He hoped so because having to carry a tortured child with who knows how many internal injuries was not the best scenario, especially with his leg. Ed would be better suited for it, but asking the girl to trust another unknown faceless man at this point was probably too much. "I can hold your hand and help you get up if you want me to." 

After a minute, the girl lifted one skeletal limb towards him. Oswald stood up, ignoring the pain shooting through his ankle, and gingerly locked his hand with hers. He didn't pull but provided steady support as the girl slowly uncurled and got on her knees first, then brought one leg before her, finding purchase on it to push up. Gradually, she stood up on unsteady legs, hugging her middle with a free hand, her shoulders defensively stiffened and trembling knees turned inward. She was terribly thin, all skin and protruding bones, obviously starved. 

"Well done," Oswald praised, giving a slight supportive squeeze to the small hand clutching his. "Do you want to go get some fresh air?" he waited for a nod before taking a slow step forward. 

The girl followed him with head hung low and hand grasping at the leather of Penguin’s glove with all the feeble force she had. 

"That's it, you're doing good," Oswald murmured to support her and obscure the sound of Ed dragging the corpse from the perch inside. "Would you like to tell me your name?" he inquired and realized that he probably should take the first step in the introduction. "My name is Bran."

"R-Rosie," she whispered barely audible, her voice was scratchy and raw from misuse. 

"Rosie. That's a very beautiful name," Oswald said with a smile. Rosie hung her head even lower, but a slight blush on her pale cheeks was visible. 

The cool air from the opened door hit them and reminded Penguin of the late autumn weather outside. He tugged an old blanket from the couch and stopped. 

"Rosie, dear, it's very cold outside. May I put a blanket around your shoulders to keep you warm?" Oswald asked gently. After a confirming nod, he tried to take his hand away from her, but Rosie's grasp hardened, she released a small desperate whimper. "Oh, I'm not leaving, don't worry. It'll be just a second, okay?" 

Death grip on his hand slowly weakened and Oswald was able to free his hand and fold the blanket twice. He whispered another warning and reassurance and gingerly wrapped the cloth around her frail body, careful to not touch her and accidentally disturb any bruises. Rosie clutched the blanket edges on her chest with one hand and lifted the other, silently asking for Oswald's support once again. He took her hand, and they resumed their slow walk to the door. 

Before stepping out, Oswald asked Rosie to put on a pair of home slippers on her bare feet. They were old and huge on her, but it'll have to do for now. Ed was quietly waiting outside. He brought the vacated garden armchair away from the house to the middle of the road, and Oswald led the girl to rest in it. 

*I took one of their phones,* Ed signed and gave Oswald the device. *It'd be better if she called the cops.* They locked eyes for a moment to reconfirm their silent agreement, and Ed left them, entering the house to get rid of the evidence they might've left in their shared feat of rage. 

"Rosie, I have a phone and going to call 911 so that they would come here to help you. Do you know this address?" She nodded. "Good. Do you think you can tell it the person on the phone?" 

Rosie nodded again, and after a few more instructions, Oswald dialed the number, putting the call on speaker. After a second, the operator answered and asked what's the emergency. With a weak trembling voice, Rosie told the address and asked to come and help her, adding that there's a fire. When she was getting too nervous and uncomfortable with the operator's questions, Oswald ended the call. 

"Shh, it's okay, they'll be here soon," he assured her, and she soon stopped sobbing. 

"Will.. Will you s-stay?" she asked carefully. 

Oswald glanced at the dirty house window where, besides the yellow light, the starting fire was already visible. "I'll stay for as long as I can, Rosie. You'll be safe. Do you have parents or any other family?" 

"Granny," she whispered. 

"Good. You know, Rosie, I heard that there's one good cop who would never leave a young lady in trouble. His name is Jim Gordon," Oswald shared. No matter what their relationship with Jim was, he indeed will make sure Rosie gets another chance at life. Jim's moral compass won't let this girl get lost again. "I've seen him on TV, he helps people. Ask police officers to call him, I'm sure he'll come to help you and your grandmother too. But I will be very grateful if you don't tell him too much about me and my friend." 

She nodded, and they remained silent for a minute.

"Did you kill them?" the girl asked with suddenly calm steadiness. 

"Yes," Penguin answered simply, seeing no reason to lighten the picture. 

"Thank you," Rosie murmured. "Can I see you?" 

"No, my dear, you shouldn't. It'll be better for everyone. Don't worry, you won't have to wear that for too much longer now."

She nodded and shuffled deeper into the blanket. Oswald wanted a smoke but couldn't risk leaving the potential evidence. 

"Who are you? A hero?" Rosie asked after another minute. 

Penguin couldn't hold back a chuckle. "No, I'm not. There are no heroes. I'm just a different kind of monster." 

She muttered something barely audible and sat further on the armchair, bringing her legs to her chest and covering them with a blanket. 

Oswald looked at where Ed was stepping down from the porch with their weapons, umbrella, and cane. Fire and smoke were feasting on the old furniture and corpses inside. Rosie slightly tensed when she heard Riddler’s footsteps, but didn't say anything. Penguin gratefully accepted his partner's hand as well as his umbrella and shotgun. 

After a few more minutes, he heard the sirens wailing in the distance and saw the red and blue shining over the low rooftops, brightening the dark sky. The flames were hungrily consuming the house, licking at the half-taken apart roof now. 

"We must get going, Rosie," Oswald said softly. She sighed and nodded. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you get to safety. It will all be over very soon," he promised, stepping away from the small figure curled in the garden armchair. "Thank you for agreeing to keep the blindfold on. You can take it off after a couple of minutes." 

"Okay. Bye, Bran," Rosie said and gave a tiny shade of a smile.

"Goodbye, Rosie," Oswald said as they walked farther away from the burning house and waiting child. 

Ed led him behind the corner of another abandoned house not far from where they left the car. They hid behind the corner and peeked just in time to see Rosie rubbing her eyes now free of the blindfold and then squinting at the house engulfed in flames and the approaching cars. Soon a firefighters brigade began spewing water from a hose, while emergency doctors brought another set of blankets and led Rosie to their van. The cops began searching the area, and the two criminals took it as their cue to leave. 

Oswald glanced at his partner as they approached the car. Riddler was a mess of green, black, and dark-red colors. His chest, sleeves, face, and the mask were soaked in blood splatters. Another reason why Rosie's blindfold was for the best. Penguin was probably looking only slightly less unhinged, and only because blood on his black clothes wasn't so visible. He could smell and taste the permeating dried coppery drops on his face. 

They were driving back in strained silence, both coming down from the rage that led them to the massacre and what they felt afterward. Oswald pulled the bloodied brass knuckles from his pocket. He saw the small skull imprints among Rosie's fresh bruises. He gritted his teeth, wishing he could kill that despicable brute all over again. 

"What are you gonna do with Brickface now?" Ed asked in a calm voice, looking at the road as he drove. 

"Ask him if he knows Rosie. If I see that he does, I suppose I'll have another stress relief soon," Penguin huffed. 

"I thought you didn't want him dead." 

"Yes, I was fine with his position and abilities, he's good at what he does, and I'd have to divert my attention and waste my time with finding a replacement. But if that's what it takes," Oswald shrugged, pocketing the brass knuckles again. 

"You're not turning into a vigilante on me here, are you?" Ed chuckled, glancing at him from behind his bloodied green mask. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Ed," Penguin snorted. "Vigilantes are even worse hypocrites than cops. I'm an honest criminal and I won't tolerate that kind of crime in my city." 

His nerves began to flare again but were soothed by Edward's warm hand giving a squeeze to his thigh. Oswald covered it with his own, grateful for the support. 

"Rosie is not the first or the last child to be hurt by wretched monsters," Ed said, keeping his eyes on the road. "But we stopped her tormentors, gave her another chance," he gave him a small smile as their eyes briefly locked. "You were really good with her." 

Penguin shrugged. "She's a scared hurt child. Not difficult to sympathize," he muttered and saw Ed inclining his head slightly. They both had received plenty of pain in their childhood, but for him, it was even worse as, unlike Oswald, he didn't have a sanctuary in his house. 

Fingers of their hands entwined on Oswald's thigh, and the drive continued in relaxed silence. It felt liberating to share their past hurt with each other, to have a person who understands and doesn't judge. 

—☂—

Back in the hideout, they washed away all the blood and tension in the shower before getting into the hot bath to soak together and cuddle more in these last hours before Oswald's departure. The memory of Edward's solid chest and steady heartbeat behind Oswald's back along with his tender hands slowly wandering around his middle will be his best lullaby for the nights to come until their next meeting. 

After that, at the late-night dinner, Riddler was voicing his eagerness to begin the execution of his brilliant plan. Oswald was listening to his partner with a fond smile never leaving his face. Ed was giddy like a boy preparing for a picnic, describing how amazing it's going to be. It was just too endearing. 

"It's still beyond my understanding how you can enjoy that kind of company," Penguin shook his head after Ed told him of a new idea for Scarecrow’s formula he wanted to discuss with the man. 

"Jon can provide a surprisingly good conversation and insights, even though he doesn't shut up about fears and phobias most of the time," he rolled his eyes. "Jervis is an intriguing mystery. I still don't know how exactly he hypnotizes people and how much of his 'madness' is merely a performance. He can act perfectly sane and serious one second and then turn into a deranged child in a blink of an eye. Fries has a very creative scientific approach to pretty much any problem, although I don't know why most of them eventually narrow down to freezing stuff. And then there's Ivy and her plants," he shook his head. "I mean, of course, I accept any knowledge, but wow, does that woman obsess over her 'babies'," he huffed. 

"Don't I know that," Oswald chuckled. He paid little attention to the food, observing his fiancé across the table. 

He was honestly happy that Ed found some common ground with those people in Arkham. Besides socializing, they could prove useful allies in the future. Or Riddler could learn their secrets and weaknesses, which is always helpful. Or he could even find real friends there, no matter how insane, and that'd be great since making friends for Ed is far from easy. 

"But what will you tell them about your absence? That you were in isolation?" 

"I could, but that'd be too boring and wouldn't explain my new haircut. However, I won't have to tell anything to anyone if there's nobody to ask me," he hid his sly smirk behind the cup of tea. 

"I thought you were gonna gather and give me an intel, not organize a mass breakout."  

"I'm giving you the best unique intel there is: Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Firefly, Tweeds, Flamingo, and a bunch of other criminally insane convicts will be roaming the streets of Gotham once more before this week is over," Ed smirked. "You're the only one who knows of the approaching disaster now. See how good I am at this? Your own royal spy," he winked and caressed Oswald's ankle under the table with his foot. 

Penguin shook his head at his partner's self-praise. "So you're not only a Zorro but also a James Bond now?" he chuckled. 

"Lucky you, got the full package, and so much more," Riddler purred, and it was too great a temptation to resist, so Oswald leaned across their small table to peck those smugly smiling lips. The smile only grew bigger. 

"But you just said you wanted to discuss some ideas with your new pals, yet now you're gonna free them and sit there alone?" Oswald couldn't help but notice the flaw in logic. 

Ed shrugged, not bothered in the slightest. "They'll return soon enough. If Scarecrow decides to commence the experiment he talked about, then I won't have to wait for more than a month or two. And I'm not freeing Fries, Ivy, and others who are deep underground and only brought up for socializing and therapy," he explained and finished his drink. "I'm sure it won't be long until the Rogues are back to bickering and bringing fun mayhem into that otherwise dull place."

"The who are back?" 

"The Rogues," Riddler repeated, puffing his chest proudly. "It's what people started calling our little gathering lately." 

Penguin huffed. "And they call me dramatic." 

Ed laughed, getting up from his chair. "I'm pretty sure you're also counted among Gotham's Rogues, Mr. Penguin," he offered a hand for Oswald to get up. 

"Do I get no say in that?" he pouted, stepping into his lover's embrace. 

"Nope, you're a prominent villain, an enemy of the law, and a partner of the great Riddler," he purred, and fiercely kissed Oswald's cynical smirk off, tugging the dress shirt down his shoulders. 

A few hours later, Ed drove Oswald to an old rusted door that led into the hidden passage with a bribed Blackgate guard probably already waiting on the other side. They didn't linger too long with saying goodbye. It won't be so long until they see each other again this time around. Penguin wished his partner luck in his big game, and after another deep kiss, entered the passage. 

—☂—

Six days later, Oswald was resting in his new cell that used to belong to Brickface until his untimely and agonizingly slow demise at the hands of 'unknown parties'. As it turned out, he did know Rosie but tried to deny the fact after Penguin showed him that infamous brass knuckles with skull engravings. He wasn't very good at lying. 

Oswald was lounging in his bed with a much softer mattress and new bedsheets of high-quality satin. He held a book in one hand, picking snacks from his nightstand with the other. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to place a mini-fridge in his proximity, considering Penguin’s tendency to stress eat and the amount of everyday stress in this place. But he couldn't deny himself a bit of self-indulgence, at least as a compensation for the extended time he's going to spend in this wing as the main person in power until he finds and mentors a suitable replacement. Penguin also managed to get his food delivered from Olga and now had full-time access to the treats in his very cell. 

He switched his TV on. It was almost midnight, and the time was the only clue Ed gave him, so Oswald watched the news every night this past week. 

'... that young Rosie is still in the hospital, healing from both physical and mental injuries. She's already feeling much better, but doctors keeping her safe from the outside world, and we couldn't get a chance to talk to her. But we did receive a comment from Commissioner Gordon, who took personal charge over this case. He promised to make sure that Rosie and her grandmother get all the help they need. The search for the people responsible for the massacre of her tormentors continues, although our sources say that fire destroyed all the evidence they might've left. We'll follow the investigation and inform you about the progress of Rosie's recovery.'

Oswald scoffed. So typical of the legal system to lash out on people who rid this city of a few trash bags. Jim even came to question him after Brickface was found dead, but he left with nothing but a headache, Penguin made sure of it.  

'Coming up next, a set of ruby-encrusted earrings had been stolen from a highly guarded jewelry store. The only evidence left were scratch marks, apparently-...'

The news program was suddenly cut off by what looked like a live broadcast. This must be it. Oswald put away his book, sat straighter on his bed, upped the volume and turned his full attention to the screen. 

'...We're interrupting evening news due to the emergency at Arkham Asylum. We just received reports of a green vapor cloud around the main cell block. Valerie Vale is currently on the scene. Valerie, tell us what's happening.'

The screen switched from the reporter in the studio to Valerie Vale standing with a microphone in front of the GCPD blockade. Behind her was a mix of red, blue, and green colors. 

'That's the problem, Jack. Nobody knows what's happening. Our sources spoke of an anonymous tip the GCPD received in the form of a few riddles not long ago. The answers led us here and that's all. As you can see, Arkham Island is currently obscured by green fog.' 

She motioned behind her, and the camera focused on a thick wall of green mist cutting the Island off right after its unmistakable menacing gates. The blinking blue and red lights of police cars didn't diminish the impressive vibrant green color of the swirling and shifting haze.

'The Commissioner has arrived here with the strike force but refused to give any comments on the situation. By all signs, it looks like the Riddler's work, but there were no reports of Edward Nygma escaping Arkham. The bomb squad is currently checking the bridge to the Island. There are still no results on the possible effects of this gas. All communications with Arkham have been cut off. There's really not much we can do right-...'

Valerie Vale's report was cut off by a sharp sound of static, and the broadcast switched to a black screen with a single green question mark outlined in a pale neon. There seemed to be something slightly obscuring the symbol but the illumination wasn't enough to see properly. Oswald distantly noticed that he forgot to breathe and sat at the very edge of his bed, leaning to the screen. He swallowed, eager to see what his fiancé decided to do this time. 

"Good evening, Gotham!" Riddler's new sonorous voice announced and echoed on itself. "Did you honestly believe that locking up Edward Nygma would allow you to further wallow in your gruesome stupidity?" he laughed. "No. The Riddler is here to save you from that miserable prospect of inevitable degradation!" 

Penguin rolled his eyes and only now realized that a wide smile never left his lips during the broadcast. He didn't bother restraining it, he was blissfully alone in his cell. Not tearing his eyes from the TV, he reached into the mini-fridge and produced a package of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, made with perfection by Olga. Possibly not an appropriate midnight snack, but Oswald wanted something sweet along with the sight of his gorgeous love showing off before the whole city. 

On the screen, the neon green luminescence of the huge question mark became brighter and outlined the dark silhouette standing in front of it. The elegantly lanky frame in the bowler hat was unmistakable. Riddler stood propping himself on his cane: its handle roughly imitated the question mark in the background. His head was turned to the side opposite of the cane, face downcast, with his other hand lightly touching the top of his hat. 

"Riddle. Me. This!" the dark silhouette announced, moving to stand more firmly and held his cane in both hands horizontally. "Some will use me, while others will not. Some remember while others forgot. I am gained with patience and time. Priceless, but can cost cheaper than dime. What am I?" he finished with a swirl of his cane and pointed its handle to the camera, jagged silvery edges outlined and sharpened even more by the neon glow. 

He held a pause and filled it with a humorless laugh, echoing with his voice modulator. "Knowledge. And that's something you all gravely lack and fear. You deem people who have the courage to expand their expertise insane, lock them up, and try to forget their achievements only so that you can feel better about your own pitiful intellectual inferiority," he spat and stomped his cane onto the wooden floor. It gave a muffled thud that slightly reverberated on the walls of the apparently empty room. "But guess what! Today will be a lesson for you that knowledge and progress can not be deterred by your walls, bars, and pathologic ignorance."

He made a sharp cutting gesture with his free hand before bringing it to rest on his hip. The other he once again propped on his cane. 

"So, Gotham, riddle me this!" the light behind him once again slightly brightened and made visible the edges of his green silky mask and sharp cheekbones. "When I go off, you all go down. I can level half a town. What am I?" 

Riddler's sinister laughter echoed menacingly, his white teeth predatory glinted in the darkness. He tossed his cane into the air and caught it, gracefully spinning it in a couple of circles with both hands before bringing it forth, as if presenting it to the camera. His thumb hovered over a small bump under the handle, clearly outlined by the emerald neon behind him. 

"Have fun and stay sharp, Gotham. This is far from over," he chuckled and pressed the button. 

The next moment his broadcast abruptly ended and, after a short static disturbance, switched back to Valerie Vale who stood clearly at a loss, pressing one hand to her ear and holding the microphone with the other. 

'...no, Jack, it's not. What the f-... Oh, we are?!' 

She cleared her throat, straightened her posture and looked in the camera. 

'It seems that this Riddler caused the disturbance in our broadcast. It's still unclear what he meant by-...' 

A thunderous blast interrupted her report. A huge explosion with green — of course, it's green! — fire burst through the fog, sending a blast wave that made everyone bow down. Valerie Vale covered her head from the glass shards flying around, the camera trembled and fell before the operator hastily picked it up to capture what was happening. 

And there was a scene worth looking at. The blast from the explosion shattered most of the police car lightings, so nothing outshined the green halo over Arkham Island. It was eerily illuminating the dark sky, shimmering water, and cops getting up to rush to the bridge. The fog was rapidly dissolving, revealing the main attraction: a huge question mark shaped gap across the whole wall was created with that explosion. It was like an echo of that neon sign behind Riddler’s silhouette minutes ago. The symbol was clearly visible in the darkness since there were no lights in the windows, and the green flames were still burning inside the gigantic question mark, lazily lapping at the insides of the building. 

Oswald forgot to swallow a mouthful of his cupcake and was now sitting like a hamster with his cheeks full. He hastily chewed to finally eat it up and blindly reached into his fridge once again, searching for a bottle of juice to wash down the sweet treats. 

'I... I have no fitting words for what just happened. You all witnessed it with us, that bomb or bombs just went off and left a wall-sized question mark. There can be no more doubt, it is the Riddler. But how did Nygma escape, and why nobody reported that? Those are the questions we have yet to answer. Jack, back to you for now. I'll try to reach the GCPD squad marching through the Arkham gates even as we speak.'

Valerie Vale rushed after the cops, and the broadcast switched to the reporter in the studio. 

'Thank you, Valerie, and do be careful out there. There's no telling what else might be on that madman's mind. We'll be covering the events live as we receive the updates.  Stay tuned to not miss any emergency announcements.'

Oswald returned his remaining juice and a couple of leftover cupcakes into the fridge to busy himself and maybe stop smiling finally, as his face was hurting from the stretch of his lips during the whole broadcast. Riddler was incredible. His outlandish performance is bound to cause a lot of disturbance in the city. Even more trouble will follow with the criminally insane inmates he supposedly freed while everyone's heads were turned to the more obvious elements of his coup. 

Meanwhile, Penguin was going to do what he does best: profit on the information he had received in advance. He was already expecting more than a few calls tomorrow from people who had previously refused partnership and his support against the villains who were mostly locked up. Perhaps he should consider investing in an insurance company and provide coverage for the damage inflicted by the criminals — the Rogues — of various caliber. Something to think about in the morning, Oswald supposed, and turned the TV off, snuggling into the soft warmth of his new bed. 

Chapter Text

Everything went flawlessly. From the broadcasted recording of Riddler's little speech to the breaking the inmates out of Arkham under the cover of chaos and thick green fog. And of course, his own indulgence: fooling Gordon while laughing literally in his face. 

Ed arrived at the Arkham Island a couple of hours before the main event. After all the necessary preparations on the outside, he donned a white lab coat, took off his glasses, let his cut hair stylishly fall over his forehead, and made his way through the Asylum halls without any obstacles. He reached the main control room of the General treatment level and knocked out the guard who sat before the panel filled with levers and buttons. Above it — rows of screens with cameras feed. 

It's gonna be so fun. 

Riddler began with opening all cell doors in one of the cell blocks. It contained a more docile and harmless population. They slowly started crawling out from their cells, looking around and flocking together into a confused mumbling crowd. Some of them became less harmless after Ed opened the door into the hall and the crowd tried to squeeze through the small passage. The guards rushed into that block from the other side, trying to bring the patients back into their cells. 

Ed repeated the action with another cell block to draw more staff into it. And then sealed off both blocks, shutting down the manual operations on door locks. 

With the press of a button on his remote, he activated the filters on the Arkham roofs to release a heavy cloud of green vapor from the air vent system. It's completely harmless but supposed to look intimidating from across the river where the GCPD should arrive any minute now. 

After creating a sufficient distraction with confused insane inmates and the green fog, Riddler began to open the doors to the Intensive treatment contingent still temporarily held on this level. Those inmates left their cells more confidently. They knew it was only a matter of time before someone managed to escape. Of course, it wasn't an obligation to get others out, but who would miss a chance to give a helping hand and receive a few favors owed in return. 

Riddler didn't meet his criminally insane compatriots in person, he merely pointed them in the right direction with a few commands over the speaker. They'll find a trail of pages with green question marks outside. And then sail away on the boat after entering the answer to the 'Who am I?' written on the windshield. They'll have to swallow their pride and acknowledge their savior if they want to get free. 

Meanwhile, Ed changed into his inmate uniform. He removed today's camera records, checked one last time if all the timers were correct, and burned his items to leave no trace of his deception. Unnoticed amid the chaos, he entered Warden White's office, and the man escorted him to one of the solitary cells. Warden was all trembling and asking what was that fog and what Riddler was up to. Ed ignored the questions and only reminded him that all he needs to know is Edward Nygma was held in isolation for the last week and a half. 

He felt the whole building shaking when the bombs went off right at midnight, just like he promised to Oswald and the GCPD. Riddler hoped his beloved partner was watching the news that night. It all must look so glorious from across the river. Ed laid back on the lumpy mattress and grinned to himself, waiting for his guests. 

He didn't have to wait too long. 

Ed peeked out through the small barred window in his cell door and saw Commissioner Gordon next to Warden White with Detective Bullock in tow. Riddler stepped away from the door, assumed a relaxed sitting position on his bed and opened a book that was probably left by the cell's previous inhabitant. As soon as the lock clicked, the door was blasted open and two policemen stormed in. Warden wiped the sweat from his forehead and stayed outside. 

"Nygma?! " Gordon growled, freezing in place at the sight of disheveled Edward lounging on the bed. He clearly did not expect to truly see him here and was ready to rain justice on the Warden for loosing a dangerous criminal. 

Ed arched an eyebrow, casting an unimpressed glance at the cops from behind his glasses, not turning his face from the book. 

"Gordon," he dropped flatly. 

"What the hell is going on?!" Commissioner demanded, grabbing the front of Ed's uniform in a fist and hauling him to sit upright and look into his grimace. The book dropped to the floor. "What are you doing here?!" Gordon growled into his face.

Warden White muttered something under his breath and quietly retreated from the scene. 

Riddler burst out laughing. "I knew the lack of a proper challenge from me would affect your cerebral capabilities, but your degradation seems even more severe than I anticipated," he shook his head, still giggling. But the white knuckles of Gordon's fist weren't something Ed wanted connecting with his face, so he added more soberly. "You locked me up in here, personally. Now I'm reflecting on my terrible crimes and pondering my missed opportunities," he grinned, not hiding his sarcasm. 

"That's bullshit, Nygma!" Bullock stepped closer, both cops crowding Ed and looming over him, but failing to be intimidating with their rapidly growing frustration. "You were on TV, you planted the bombs. What's your game?" 

"Ah, Bullock. Still alive and kicking, I see," he huffed a grim chuckle, eyeing the detective up and down. Gordon's grip on Edward's uniform tightened, but he pointedly ignored it and made no effort to remove Commissioner's hand. "TV, bombs, games? Yep, that was all me. But it was more than a year ago," he shrugged. 

After a moment of their shocked gaping, Ed pretended to realize something. "Ooh, I see what's happening. You woke up from a coma after that explosion, and dear Jimbo brought you here to get your sweet revenge. Is that correct? Such a good old friend he is... Aren't you?" he snapped, suddenly surging forward and almost bumping into Gordon's face with a snarl. 

Commissioner was visibly startled by the almost attack, he flinched and pushed Edward away from him to slump on the bed again. Riddler cackled and saw it in Gordon's eyes that he understood the reference. There was hardly any other criminal who called the cop 'old friend'. 

"My sweet revenge is you rotting away in this place, Nygma," Bullock spat. "I was talking about today." 

Ed made sure to stare at him like he grew a second head, but equally brainless as the first one. 

"Commissioner, it seems your detective started seeing things. In that case, you've brought him to the right place!" he informed cheerfully. "Don't worry, he'll fit in nicely here. Scarecrow and Mad Hatter will be delighted to meet you again, as will Poison Ivy," he sneered and was gratified by how Bullock paled under the cell's fluorescent yellow light. 

"Midnight, Arkham Asylum. Those were the clues you sent us so that we'd come to see your 'show'," Gordon explained impatiently, ignoring his taunts. "What are you playing with getting back inside?" 

Ed released a deep sigh. "Why is a riddle like a pencil?" 

He laughed shortly at two bewildered gazes. "It's no good without a point," he revealed with a smirk. "And that's what your riddle lacks. Are you sure you two weren't admitted as inmates?" 

"Cut the crap, Riddler," Gordon barked, towering over him with hands on his hips. 

"You don't wanna make us angry, especially not tonight," Bullock mirrored his pose. 

"You do know there's supposed to be one good cop in this scenario?" Ed chuckled. 

"I think we'll manage," Gordon grunted and lifted Edward from the bed by the front of his uniform. 

Riddler willed his arms to relax and not try to resist. Gordon is a brute but he'd be less inclined to beat an unarmed non-threatening prisoner. That didn't stop Commissioner from harshly pinning Ed’s back to the wall. He winced at the hard impact but didn't remove his condescending smirk. 

"How did you escape Arkham? What is your game?" he demanded, pressing Ed into the concrete. 

"Jimbo, you really do need to check your head. Guess what? We are in Arkham right now," he eyed the walls around them. "Do I look like an escapee? I do like to play games, but yours doesn't make any sense, it's dull and frankly idiotic." 

"You're trying to tell us that you never left Arkham during the last year and four months? And you expect us to believe that?" Bullock snarled. 

"Your beliefs fail to concern me," Ed shrugged as much as his position allowed. "Ask the Warden, and stop bothering me. Your intellectually impaired company is not as pleasant as you might presume," he spat, but Gordon didn't release his hold. 

Riddler gritted his teeth and pushed away the hands pinning him to the wall. "Get off me," he growled and was gratified by the Commissioner complying and not grabbing him again. 

Ed straightened his back, primly flattened his crumpled uniform, adjusted his glasses, and looked down at Gordon in all senses, using his superior height to full advantage. 

"Now explain, what was that about me escaping?" he demanded. 

Gordon exchanged glances with Bullock, communicating silently. Then looked at Ed again. 

"The Riddler." 

"Yes, I know who I am," he rolled his eyes. 

Commissioner squinted at him suspiciously. "So that invitation and a show at midnight weren't you then?" 

"Riddle me this: I lack arms but point with hands, I wear a face without a head. What am I?"

Gordon furrowed his brows. "'Riddle me this' ? You never said that before. Not until tonight."

Oh, crud. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

This new phrase rolled off his tongue so naturally, Ed couldn't help himself. He got too cocky again and didn't consider that Commissioner would pick up on his slip. He'll have to try and play it off. 

"Didn't I?" he smirked. 

Judging by Gordon's desperately thoughtful expression of probably digging through Edward's countless riddles, it's even better this way. Both cops were utterly confused now, it's hilarious. Ed didn't want them to completely write him off as a suspect, he wanted them to doubt. And later, when they finally decide that Edward Nygma is not the Riddler who's been terrorizing the city and challenging Gotham's 'heroes', he will rub it in their stupefied faces that it was him all along. 

"Anyway, it's a clock. Do you see one?" he waved a hand to indicate bare windowless walls of the cell. "That's your answer," Riddler stated triumphantly and crossed his arms over his chest. 

There were a few long minutes of silent staring match between Ed and Commissioner. Finally, Gordon huffed, but still appeared unconvinced. "Then it seems you have a copycat." 

Ed scoffed. "Don't be stupid, unless you can't help it. Nobody can ever hope to achieve my level of ingenuity and superiority," he waved him off. But then let a bit of curiosity seep in. "Was he even half as good?" 

"I'd say he was far better, right Harv?" Gordon stated casually, his friend nodded and hummed in agreement. They were obviously trying to provoke Ed to make him slip up, and it probably would've worked if they hadn't just complimented him. 

Still, he played the part, "Nobody is better than me! Never was, never will be!" he spat. And then exhaled a long sigh. "But. If he does justice to my name while I'm stuck in this dump, then I don't see any harm in him borrowing it for a while." 

"Seriously, Ed? You? Don't mind sharing your name?" Gordon asked with suspicious bewilderment. Pretty justified, Ed had to concede. Riddler would unmask, humiliate, and kill anyone who dared lay claim on his personality without permission. 

"I don't have much of a choice now, do I?" he seethed. "Or are you humbly begging for my help in apprehending that clever fellow?"

Because that would be just hilarious.

Two disbelieving stares told him that they weren't that desperate yet.

"Well then, unless you want to set me free so I could deal with him myself, I think we're done here," he announced. 

Riddler pointedly stepped past the blockade of two cops to graciously slump on his bed and reopen the book, not looking at his visitors to demonstrate how unwelcome they are here. After a minute, with peripheral vision, Ed saw the two figures retreating from his cell. Finally, after he heard the door at the end of the hall open and close, he allowed himself to succumb to laughter that echoed on the walls around him. 

This all was so worth it already. And they haven't even seen the empty inmate cells yet. Riddler wished he could look at their faces when they learn that news. Alas, he'll have to settle for another heated interrogation with increasingly frustrated cops who stare right in the face of the answer to the riddle but can't uncover it. This is going to be a long and exciting game to play. 

—?—

Shortly after, Ed fell back into the familiar routine. It was relaxingly meditative with its repetitive and stable schedule. Peaceful. That is until the Intensive treatment level had been reinforced to contain even inmates with superhuman abilities, and all the dangerous rogues were brought back to their habitat. 

From that moment, Ed had Freeze and Ivy to talk to until the escaped rogues were gradually brought back behind bars one by one. They tried to question him if he was the one who freed them, but where would the riddle be if he just told them? So, Ed played guessing games with them, and, predictably, they grew tired of his quirks and let the matter drop. All they needed to know was that they owe the Riddler a favor. Which one of the Riddlers would be the first to collect it, they didn't really care.

Ed left Arkham five times during the next year and a half. On all of those occasions he spent sweet cozy time with Oswald, they joked about it being almost like conjugal visits. Twice on his escapes, he also executed a few games, not letting the city forget about his supremacy and lack of a real challenge among 'the Gotham's finest'. He was also improving his image and tools. Riddler used his copious amounts of free time in Arkham to design new tools and devise new schemes. So that when he got out, he constructed his golden cane with a smooth question mark handle within a day or two. And during the next few, he tried it in action: fighting, posing, and laughing on the breaking news. 

Everything was great, perfect even. Except for his disastrous lack of reliable people for his heists and projects. Thugs he hired to do all the hard work didn't share a single brain cell between them. They didn't even try to understand or play along. Worst of all, only a few rarely agreed to dress up accordingly to the Riddler’s image, to keep a proper theme. It was honestly shameful for someone like the Riddler — a vibrant, unforgettable, magnificent entity — to show up on TV and front pages of newspapers with dirty brutes who refused to at least wear masks, not to mention anything green. 

Even aside from the appearances, some thugs were simply too scared to work for him, claiming that his plans were too crazy and unnecessarily showy. Feeble-minded apes with zero imagination. Too afraid of the spotlight, they'll never see any shimmer of glory with that mindset.

Riddler hated to rely on such uninspired miscreants and decided to do his next big heist alone. His chances of getting caught will rise ten times higher without at least one associate beside him. But whatever. The worst thing that can happen is GCPD arresting him and putting an abrupt end to his great game. It'd be most unfortunate, but he'll just have to find something else to do if that comes to pass. 

Who needs partners anyway. 

—?—

"Hey, you!" a female voice sounded behind Riddler as he closed the alarm control box.

"Hands up!" another woman echoed, following with the unmistakable clicks of the safety of their guns being switched off.

Oh, crud. 

Just Edward's luck that a small gun shop he decided to rob at three in the morning would be guarded. His overconfidence played tricks on him yet again as he was too cocky to properly check the premises and devise an actual plan besides three simple steps: pick the lock, disable the alarm and grab as many items from his mental checklist as he could carry.

Riddler considered his chances. He can spray knockout gas from his cane — currently held in the crook of his elbow — within three seconds. Judging by the sound of their voices, the two women shouldn't be farther than twenty feet away from him. Taking into account the absence of wind in this small closed space it means they'd drop in six to eight seconds. 

They could shoot him in two.

Riddler decided to play along for now and slowly lifted his hands, grabbing his cane to hold over his head. He doubted it was visible enough to recognize: Ed stood in total darkness, deep in the shadows in the corner. 

"What's that?" 

"Drop it!" they said with two voices but in one sentence without a pause. 

Ed huffed but didn't argue, curious about where this was going. Probably he should've tried to use the darkness around him to his advantage. He could drop a light bomb and blind his attackers for a few moments to escape. But there's always time for that, no need to get away without at least knowing who holds him at gunpoint. Ed released his hold around the cane and it dropped to the wooden floor with a muffled thud. 

"Turn around," the first one commanded.

"Slowly," the second added.

Ed complied without fuss and sudden movements. 

He took a second to study his unexpected company. Illumination from the street lamps and occasional headlights seeped through the stained window and was enough to make out their general appearance.

Riddler was targeted by two young women with handguns. They both wore black leather jackets; mid-calf leather combat boots and tight jeans covered their lean legs. Were they exotic security or did they have similar to Riddler's reasons to be here? Latter was more likely since the alarm was already turned off when Ed got inside; he thought it was silent and went to check, but then wrote it off as a shop owner's sloppiness. Also, they rode a bike apparently, he deduced from barely visible in this lighting telling dirt splatters on their boots. It has been drizzling outside for three days in a row.

One of his assailants had long straight blonde hair gathered in a ponytail resting over her shoulder. A few inches shorter than Ed, she wore a black police hat, but she was definitely not a policewoman. It gave her some BDSM vibes more than anything else, especially with her overall provocative attire, including a thick chain hanging on her belt and clinking softly as it brushed her thigh. Her bold makeup did nothing to disprove that association.

Her partner was about an inch shorter, she had slightly darker skin tone and short black hair: pixie cut with unruly bangs getting in her eyes and slightly covering her pierced ears with skull earrings. A black leather choker wrapped around her neck had metal stubs glinting in the dim light. She held a cigarette in her bright red lips. Having her gun still trained at Ed, she took the cigarette out with her other hand and puffed a wave of grey smoke. 

"Ladies," Ed greeted with his voice modulator turned on. He flashed a bright grin, his eyes shifting from one girl to the other. However, he stood in deep shadows, unlike them, and his charms were unseen. "What brings you to this place at this hour?"

"Holy shit, Nina!" the blonde one gasped, elbowing her partner lightly. Not very wise to call each other by real names unless they didn't intend for Edward to live long enough to use it against them. He hoped 'Nina' was a nickname.

"No way!" the brunette seemed to share her excitement. She threw away her half-smoked cigarette, not bothering to put it out properly. Perhaps not the smartest decision while standing on the wooden floor of a gun shop but Ed wasn't going to point that out. Not now at least.

"Is that...?"

"...the Riddler?"

Riddler was flattered to be recognized by voice only and also amused at their curious way of speaking one sentence together. With how positively thrilled they seemed, it was safe to assume that they weren't displeased with the encounter. He decided to rely on that hunch.

"In the flesh!" Riddler proudly announced, slowly stepping closer into the dim light to show off his dark emerald suit and allow them to see his silky green mask and trademark smug grin. He inclined his head slightly and tipped black bowler hat with a green question mark in the middle. Now he left no room to doubt his identity.

"Wow, damn! Sorry, man!" long-haired blonde in black leather police cap holstered her gun.

"Yeah, sorry. Thought you were some hobo," her friend followed suit.

Riddler huffed and lowered his hands. The girls began to approach him like two curious cats prowling cautiously toward a lion, unable to resist the pull of mystery. Ed couldn't blame them. 

"Apologies accepted," he announced cheerfully and in one swift motion outstretched his hand to the side, pressing the button on his engagement ring. It took some getting used to, but Ed was grateful for his long fingers that allowed his thumb to reach the ring even when it was on his little finger above the black leather glove. 

The button activated a battery that sent a jolt to the wires stitched inside Edward's jacket sleeve cuff. The next moment, his golden cane flew from the floor into his grasp. Riddler smirked, gave it a swirl before the girls' astounded faces and pointed the question mark end to them. Ed's gloved fingers instantly found different hidden buttons on the shaft. 

The girls were momentarily startled but, after a second, both approached faster with even more excitement. The one with short dark hair, Nina, even touched the cane, tracing her fingertips over its golden curves. 

Riddler sighed. There goes his attempt at being intimidating.

"You do realize I could just zap you with five hundred volts right now, don't you?" he asked, a bit irritated with her careless audacity. Why is she not even wearing gloves on a heist?

"You would've killed us already if you wanted to," the blonde smirked, studying Edward appraisingly. He was close to being self-conscious under her evaluating gaze like he was an actor auditioning for a role with her as some picky jury deciding his fate. Apparently, he passed some kind of a test since she lifted her eyes and gave him a slight approving nod. Ed restrained from relieved exhale.

"So it's real gold? Since it conducts electricity so well?" Nina mused meanwhile, studying the cane closely with unconcealed curiosity. "Hmm no, can't be full gold, would've been too soft then and I've seen you fight with this thing. What alloys did you use?" she wondered. "No wait, don't say, I wanna guess," she muttered quickly, not really talking to Ed, with her full attention on his question mark shaped handle that she was now examining closely and had no intention of letting go despite his death threat. Her nails were painted black and the paint was half-peeled off. Ed didn't know if it was neglect or a fashion choice, or both. "How the duck did you make it fly to you from that distance? It couldn't have been just a magnet, no way. Was it-" 

Her blonde partner groaned. "Nina, stop it with your nerdy bullshit, jeez."

Nina rolled her eyes but straightened her back and let go of his cane, looking Ed in the eyes once again. She still was giddy, with eyes glowing brightly in the dim light; she pursed her lips in a struggle to restrain herself from saying more. Still, after a few seconds, the dam gave in to the flood of information. "Did you know you can make it green gold if you add an alloy of about twenty-three percent silver and two percent cadmium? Cool, huh? You could add even more cadmium for a brighter green but it's rather toxic so-"

"Nina!" her friend stopped her excited rambling.

"What, Diedre?" brunette glared at her partner defiantly.

Riddler burst out laughing at the pair. A few minutes ago, he considered just killing them off and going on with his business, but now he was too intrigued by the unusual duo. He had to see where all this would lead him. This Nina girl seemed to be his kind of a nerd, he could feel the kindred spirit already. And her blonde friend seemed to keep a level head in a potentially dangerous situation, which was commendable. Edward couldn't help but wonder what other curious sides of them he could uncover.

"Riddle me this!" Riddler announced when his laughter faded, giving his cane a twirl and leaning on it with smooth elegance. Both girls stared at him attentively. "You carry me where you go, and those you meet soon want to know. What am I?" 

"Ooh a riddle!" the blonde, Diedre, squeaked and grinned, baring her sparkling white teeth.

" 'Course, dummy. He's THE Riddler, duh!" Nina shook her head as she prepared to light another cigarette.

"A name!" the blonde answered, ignoring her friend's jab. "Mine's Diedre Vance," she offered her hand and Riddler shook it, silently noting the strength of her grip. 

"Nina Damfino, nice to meet ya!" brunette's handshake was equally firm. "What's yours? Are you that Edward Nygma guy under the mask or are you actually a different Riddler?"

Ed scoffed. Part of him was immensely proud that his deception seemed to work perfectly. But another part was mildly perturbed by the notion that there could be any other Riddler besides himself. Still, that mask was too fun and he wore it for a reason.

"I'm the Riddler. That's all you need to know for now," he stated, giving a self-satisfied shrug. Both girls pouted and sighed but didn't insist. Edward decided to bestow a fitting lesson on them. "That's what you get for using your real names during a heist."

"Oh maan," Diedre hung her head. So they were on a heist, she didn't deny it.

"Told ya we need to make fake ones!" Nina accused, pointing her cigarette in her partner's face.

"Well, you were the one who refused to wear masks! No masks — no nicknames!"

"That's stupid!"

"It is, all of it," Riddler agreed, grinning at two bickering partners. "You need both masks and aliases if you don't want to be on the run constantly. Besides, they add a certain level of mystery, that's always gratifying," he felt like a mentor as they hung on his every word. It was rather flattering.

"Ooh, I have an idea! Maybe you could come up with some nicknames for us?" Diedre asked, clasping her hands on her partner's upper arm.

Nina leaned into the touch and nodded vigorously. "Yes! Pretty please, Riddler?"

He eyed them both up and down, an idea of his own quickly forming and presenting an intriguing opportunity. He did need physical assistance for his next scheme, and they seemed capable. 

"I guess I have a pair of fitting aliases for your duo," he drawled, casually removing non-existent lint from his lapels and pretending to not notice the way both girls leaned closer, piercing him with eyes like four embers. "Quid pro quo. I'll share my thoughts if you assist me with getting a few items from here."

The girls slightly deflated at first, but after a second exchanged glances and both almost jumped in excitement.

"Holy hell!" Diedre gasped.

"Working with the Riddler!" Nina echoed her friend in an already familiar manner.

"What do you need, boss?" Oh, that sounds nice. Very nice. Riddler could get used to it. Some of Oswald's employees also called Ed 'boss' but he knew it was only out of fear and respect for Penguin. This was different. This was genuine. Diedre called him that earnestly, with casual respect and without hesitation.

"We'll get you anything, boss! And we can deliver some, our bike's one block from here." Good, at least they thought about concealing their vehicle. Nina carelessly threw her cigarette on the floor again, eager to get started.

Riddler sighed. "For starters, Nina, what lives as long as it eats but dies when it drinks?"

"Fire?" it took her only a few seconds.

"Exactly," Riddler huffed and pointed with his cane at her still smoldering cigarette on the wooden surface.

"Oh, oops," she grinned and stomped it quickly.

They went on with the heist, Riddler got some needed items for his brewing plan and girls restocked on some guns and ammo. Diedre and Nina explained their reasons for robbing a gun shop: they recently left their jobs after killing their harassing asshole boss. Joining a biker gang didn't work for them, and they had difficulty finding a new occupation. Getting a few fresh guns seemed like a solid idea in any case, and Ed couldn't argue that. 

They drove to one of Riddler's hideouts. The girls gasped and squeaked in wonder as they took in his vast collections of stolen treasures. Ed gave them a tour, boasting his most successful possessions; their undivided attention and impressed gasps stroked his ego in all the right places. Affected by such a pleasant audience, he permitted them to take any souvenirs they liked and his guests didn't hesitate to accept the offer. Diedre took a shiny belt buckle with three small throwing knives. Nina chose a fancy silver bracelet. A few of its joints could be easily removed and used as lockpicks or even as semi-blunt blades capable of slowly sawing the duct tape or ropes if her hands were tied. Both girls hugged him tightly in gratitude, and Edward was surprised to realize that he didn't find sudden physical contact repulsive. 

Ed heated food to have dinner — or was it breakfast already — with his guests. When very hungry Oswald came to this place a few days ago, he demanded to have the empty freezer filled to the brink. They wanted to spend at least a week or even two together but Penguin had to return to Blackgate sooner than he planned: another one of Commissioner's surprise visits to the prison called him back on short notice. Now with each meal, Edward felt grateful for his beloved fiancé's care. Having to rob a grocery store for some cereals and milk in the middle of the night would've been rather pitiful for the glorious Riddler. 

The three of them shared a meal and talked, intrigued to learn more about each other.

Turns out that both Diedre and Nina had excellent combat skills: they spent a few years working as hired muscle in Star City but moved to Gotham when the underworld scene there had become too dull for their liking. When the bridges blew, they moved to Metropolis, but returned to Gotham, knowing how much demand for hired help there will be after the dust of reunification settles. Also, they were hopeless adrenaline junkies: scuba diving, base jumping, wingsuiting, and free climbing are only a few among their hobbies. They wondered if joining Zsasz's gang someday would be fun. However, Riddler saw a lot more potential and he told them as much. The girls flustered, desperately trying to stay cool about his compliment. He didn't just flatter them for no reason though, he truly felt that there was so much more to them than the eye could see. 

They both weren't morons, for starters. Ed could even go as far as calling them pretty smart, which he concluded after a few riddles and puzzles he threw at the girls later. They didn't solve all of them, but still, the results were impressive. Diedre had a knack at thinking outside the box, finding unexpectedly creative solutions to seemingly straightforward problems. While Nina's mind was as sharp as a razor, logical, quick, and structured. Plus, she was a total nerd, with numerous random facts contained in her brain, much like Ed's own. So, soon enough, Diedre was scoffing at their shared banter about chemical solutions to disposing of a body in various conditions. All three of them somehow clicked, which was extremely rare for Ed. He honestly had a great time in their company.

"So, Riddler, ya gonna tell us what was all that stuff we got today for?" Diedre inquired, her hands rested on Nina's thin waist as two of them sat on one armchair, brunette in blonde's lap. Ed still wasn't sure about the nature of their relationship but no way he would just ask them: solving the puzzle on his own was so much more fun.

"Was it for some elaborate heist? Will you take us with you?" Nina asked eagerly, playing with the new trinket on her wrist, learning to quickly withdraw a joint from her bracelet without looking.

"Hmmm... I guess I could," Ed pretended to ponder the option when in truth his mind was made up even before he invited them to his base. "Although there is one obstacle..."

"What?"

"What is it?"

He smirked at their enthusiasm. 

"Well... Riddler can't be seen in the company of two simple civilians Diedre Vance and Nina Damfino, wouldn't you agree?" he gave them a meaningful look from where he lounged on his back on the couch: one leg thrown over the other and head laid on the armrest. His hands were tinkering with the new remote control he designed for using underwater. 

"You mean..." Diedre gasped. 

"You'll give us nicknames?" Nina stopped fidgeting with her bracelet and leaned forward a bit.

Riddler cast the remote away, elegantly sat up, and eyed them, setting a proper theatrical tension. The girls straightened in their seats, seemingly holding their breath in anticipation. Propping elbows on his knees Ed leaned forward and pressed his palms together, forefingers almost brushing his lips as he spoke.

"Diedre, riddle me this. When you're in doubt, the facts unknown, I'll pull the truth with words alone. What am I?" he asked, eyes locked intently with the blonde woman. 

She mulled it for a while. "A question? Interrogation?... Or inquiry?" she muttered, confused. 

"Close enough," Ed chose to have mercy on her. "But I think Query has a better ring to it," he winked from behind the silky mask still fastened around his head. 

"Query," Diedre tried it. Her face lit up as soon as her new alias came out. "I love it! Query... You're brilliant, Riddler!" 

"Not bad," Nina smirked and tilted her head. "Alrighty then, hit me!" 

"Nina. You heard me before, yet you hear me again. Then I was no more, 'till a new sound began. What am I?" 

"Dude, that's not fair! This one's so much easier," Diedre — Query — groused lightheartedly. 

"It is, and it's so amazing! I'm Echo," she breathed. "Awesome! Query and Echo, it's so fitting and perfect!" 

The girls leaped from their seats, and Ed suddenly found himself trapped in their firm embrace. They giggled and wrapped themselves over the unsuspecting Riddler, hugging him tightly like a human-sized lanky teddy bear. He was momentarily startled by their onslaught of gratitude and excitement, not sure what to do. But after a short minute, he huffed and hugged them back as much as his position allowed. 

"Thanks, boss!" Query chirped when they both pulled back. Ed slumped on the soft couch back, and the girls sat on the carpeted floor, their long legs intertwined and arms still wrapped around each other. 

"Now we're ready for action!" Echo saluted like a soldier. 

"Not yet we aren't!" 

"Oh crap, the masks, you're right!" 

"Not only masks. I'll make us outfits befitting the Riddler's," Diedre promised, her eyes sparkling with ideas she no doubt was conjuring already. She mentioned that she was a skillful tailor and offered her help with Riddler's attire if he ever wanted to try something new. 

"Cool, we'll look like a real team!" Nina couldn't hold her excitement and kissed her partner on the lips. Ed smirked, seems like that was the answer to his little puzzle. Although the kiss wasn't deep or tender, just an outpour of their giddiness. She pulled back quickly and they hugged. 

"I think it's a start of a great partnership, Query and Echo," Riddler mused, grinning at his new accomplices. 

Over the next five days, the girls basically moved into this hideout, and surprisingly, Ed didn't mind the company. They quickly learned when Riddler shouldn't be disturbed and respected his privacy. They slept on the couch and claimed it was much more comfortable than dirty cots in the last four places they stayed. Diedre turned out to be a decent cook when Ed couldn't be bothered with food during a feat of inspiration. The smell of Nina's cigarettes was easy to get used to, thanks to Edward's tolerance built up over time with now smoking Oswald. They weren't too interested in the intricacies of Riddler's schemes, mostly eager to just jump in action. However, Nina did interrogate Ed about the inner structure of his cane, and he taught them some tricks with home-made explosives. The girls mused if Riddler could build them a pair of jet-packs or attach rockets to their skates, and Ed was intrigued by their crazy ideas. For this scheme, though, their knowledge of diving equipment really came in handy and spared Edward a few hours of research.

Riddler stopped using his voice modulator in their company after the first day; he was getting rather tired of the thing and considered discarding it entirely someday. It might also renew the GCPD's interest in Edward Nygma if they could partly recognize his voice. 

But, despite how much the girls asked him, Ed refused to take off his mask in front of them, leaving his new partners to wonder about their boss's true identity. Query was excellent at reading people and, trusting her intuition, she was confident that the Riddler was indeed Edward Nygma. She couldn't explain how he managed to officially stay in Arkham while walking free, but there was no changing her opinion. And Echo did try to change it. Her logic told that it was close to impossible to scam the whole city and the Commissioner. Besides, if this Riddler was Ed Nygma, he would've made it public knowledge, rubbed it in the GCPD faces ages ago. 

Riddler listened to their bickering and laughed, all the while encouraging them to build more theories. Aside from being fun, it was a nice brain teaser. And his partners didn't disappoint. Their arguments became increasingly heated over time. By the end of the third day, they decided to bet on the matter: the loser was going to assume dishwashing and laundry duties they both hated with passion, for three months. Ed felt a little sorry for Nina but didn't stop their gambling. 

Finally, by the end of the fifth day, Query and Echo presented themselves in front of Riddler in their new attire. Ed was half-lying on the couch with a Gameboy in his hands, catching pokemon to take his mind away and relax, when a voice brought him back to reality.

"What element is not on the periodic table?" Diedre asked and Riddler lifted his gaze from his game to see what she's up to. The muffled sound of his Gameboy hitting the carpet seemed like a sound of his own jaw dropping to the floor. Ed blinked rapidly, not completely convinced that he wasn't seeing things again.

"The Element of Surprise!" Nina revealed and spun around, showing her apparel in its full glory.

To say that Edward was surprised was like saying the atom is not big. True but drastically understated. 

Riddler stared wide-eyed at his accomplices: both sported emerald long-sleeve leotards with big question marks painted black on their fronts. Nylon spandex hugged their fine figures tightly and acutely emphasized their toned muscles and shapely breasts. The long sleeves covered tattoos on their right biceps: Ed had seen earlier that Diedre has a heavy battleax imprinted on her skin and Nina has a jagged tribal pattern around her upper arm. Ammo belts wrapped their slim waists, gun holsters dangling from them along with ammo pouches and other useful equipment. Long slender legs were dressed in fishnet tights and ankle-high black boots with daggers slightly sticking out from them. Leather gloved hands held their preferred weapons: an M60 light machinegun hanging on the sling and twin semi-automatic handguns for Query and Echo respectively. 

To finish the image, they wore identical slim black domino masks: Diedre's cobalt eyes and Nina's brown sparkling with pure joy behind them. Query left her long blonde hair down and had her beloved leather police cap on. Nina's pierced ears sported two question mark shaped green earrings. 

"So, whaddya say, boss?" Query smiled a little anxiously. 

"Do you like it?" Echo prompted, posing with her elbow propped on her friend's shoulder, idly playing with her handguns. 

Riddler nodded and forced his gaping mouth to close and swallow. Coming down from initial shock, he stood up and stepped around them, fully appreciating their gorgeous attire. Ed doubted that these were perfectly comfortable costumes, but he would be a hypocrite if he criticized valuing style above convenience. 

After such a long time dealing with dull brutes who refused to at least wear green sweaters or masks, this was an incredibly flattering and refreshing sight to behold. And it wasn't just some meek parody on Riddler’s theme, it was its bold and vibrant continuation. Just like Query and Echo themselves weren't blind groveling fangirls, but his dignified companions with as much self-worth as Riddler himself has. Partners, not lackeys. 

"Query, Echo, you both look absolutely fantastic!" he grinned, emphasizing with 'okay' gestures of both hands as he stood in front of them once again. The girls beamed in response, Diedre cocked her chin proudly. 

"Can do a makeover for ya too, boss. I have some wild ideas," Query offered, squinting as she eyed him with a smirk. "You look awesome, but I can imagine brighter colors and more daring styles doing wonders for you." 

"Yeah, she can totally make one hell of a flashy team of us," Echo nodded, holstering her twin guns and admiring her new attire.

"Perhaps some other time," Riddler politely refused, surprised that he actually didn't mind the idea of letting Diedre make some crazy designs for all three of them. She certainly has a talent and a passion for that sort of thing. "Now we need to prepare, we'll act tomorrow."

"That's dope! So, what're we doing?" Query lifted her machinegun higher. She didn't show any signs of fatigue holding the heavy weapon. 

"Robbing some bank maybe?" Echo rubbed her palms excitedly.

"Pfft, please," Riddler huffed. "Any gorilla with a gun can rob a common bank nowadays. It's not a feat anymore but rather a fast way of getting money. No, my friends, I have something much more fun and challenging planned," he grinned, and soon, all three of them sat in his lab, where Ed described his ideas.

—?—

Ed made sure that their first heist together was memorable. One rich fool dared to declare that he had built an impregnable vault, the Reservoir street cash depository. He offered a place in his 'warehouse for money' for safekeeping, with a guarantee of no thieves getting in. Naturally, Riddler just had to prove him wrong. 

The underwater structure with an airless vacuum inside the lock was impressive indeed. It acted on pressure gauges, meaning the vault door would open only after the pressure on both sides is equal. Normally, it happened after the water outside the vault is drained, but that would require an army to break into the heavily guarded control room. 

But the system was dumb.

It didn't know the difference between air and water pressure. All Riddler needed to do was flood the inside of the vault and voila — the door will open, all cash free to grab, albeit in need of drying afterward. 

So, yes, the vault was impregnable, but only for those who skipped physics classes in school. Thankfully, Ed was a good student and quickly solved that puzzle. Unsurprisingly, the system wasn't nearly good enough to prevent a true genius from finding a way around the security measures. 

A nice bonus was that he did it sooner than Catwoman clawed a hole to sneak through. She was not a simple street trash girl Ed used to know anymore: now she presented a real challenge to find out who was a better, smarter master of heists. There were a few times when she had outmatched Riddler in acquiring one treasure or another. Once, she dared to scratch a question mark and a smiley face on a glass protecting the dagger he wanted to get only to mock Riddler when he arrived mere minutes later than the sneaky feline. Ed supposed it was a retaliation for him knocking her out and painting a green question mark on her forehead with a marker when she was about to yank his mask off the other day. 

This time, not Catwoman, and not even Commissioner Gordon himself — who reached the scene nine minutes later than Ed expected — managed to stop Riddler, Query and Echo from swimming away in a river of cash. Literally. 

First, the GCPD predictably fell for Riddler’s diversion, thinking his clues warned about him crashing the charity banquet for flood relief while he quite literally told he planned to flood the street with money. 

Then, the security on the vault level wasn't equipped to stop the intruders because there weren't supposed to be any. Riddler, Query, and Echo swam to the vault door, Ed made a small hole to flood the room, thus equalizing the pressure and opening the door without any other obstacles. The water did all the work, scooping copious amount of cash and washing it down into one of the tunnels together with the three robbers after Ed detonated the bomb and took down half a wall. They resurfaced in one of the sewer intersections, changed their diving suits into more appropriate stylish green attires. After loading the soaked bundles of bills into a few big bags, they sailed away on the boat prepared in advance. 

The getaway was the trickiest part, especially if Riddler was alone. Luckily, he wasn't, and all attempts at cutting them off at the exit turned futile as well. Their boat swooshed past the shocked police officers. Only when they left the sewers through a maintenance building to escape the rest of the way on foot, the strike force caught up with them, and the trio had to take cover and return fire.

The girls were crazy! It's like they weren't notified that humans are supposed to experience at least some level of fear in the face of the GCPD strike force armed to the teeth. Riddler took cover to reload and observed his fearless companions laughing maniacally as bullets flew past them, sending gusts of wind blowing their hair. Query yelled him to go, and Nina gave him a playful wink not stopping her fire. It was clear they're more than capable of dealing with the police and getting away. Ed fired a few more shots and ran away from the firefight, carrying as many bags as he could.

"How's a policeman like an old penny?" Query's shrill voice reached him near the exit door.

"They're both rotten coppers!" Echo cheerfully replied and both girls cackled, sending a hail of bullets on their enemies and obviously enjoying themselves.

Riddler laughed and left the building, carrying heavy bags full of money to his getaway car. The girls had their bike nearby and shouldn't experience too much trouble with escaping. 

They regrouped back in his hideout sometime later. Diedre and Nina burst through the doors, cackling like crazy and carelessly discarding their weapons and the rest of stolen wet money on the floor. As soon as they spotted Riddler, they jumped forward and locked him in a bone-crushing hug. They trembled with boiling adrenaline coursing through their veins. 

"That was AWESOME! " Query almost burst his eardrums with her scream, apparently unable to speak at normal volume.

"We're so AMAZING! " Echo confirmed loudly in his other ear. Perhaps they were still deafened by all that shooting?

"That we are, my friends, that we are," Ed laughed and barely freed himself, taking one step back. "Riddler, Query, and Echo rob an 'impregnable' vault and escape in a river of cash!" he trailed a hand in the air, imitating a huge headline. "Gotham shall remember it for years! " he promised, and his accomplices cheered and howled in excitement, hugging and squeezing each other. 

"Uuugh I can't just stand still right now! Let's go blow off some steam, guys! Boss, you wanna hit the clubs?" 

"We know a few dope places," Echo nodded and they both stared at him expectantly. "Drinks on us, whaddya say?" she winked. 

"Thanks for the offer but no," Riddler smirked at their exaggerated pouts. "I happen to have a very entertaining date with the Commissioner in about an hour," he explained, theatrically removing his bowler hat and tugging his silky mask down. Edward Nygma slightly bowed and beamed at his new friends.

"HA! Told ya!" Diedre bumped her partner's shoulder quite forcefully. Nina glared at her in response.

"That's not fair! You two conspired against me," she groused.

"You wish! Nina the maid," Query teased. 

"Fuck you," Echo groaned at the reminder of her lost bet. She shook her head and grinned at Riddler. "Well then, nice to meet ya, Eddie!" 

They both pounced at him once again and caught Ed in a crushing embrace. He had to wiggle free once it got hard to breathe: Query and Echo didn't restrain their formidable strength in their handsy shows of affection. They assaulted him with a hail of questions next.

"So you actually use Arkham Asylum like a goddamn motel?"

"How the hell do you do that?" 

"Who else knows?" Query demanded.

"Do you fool other rogues or only the GCPD?" 

It was feeling more and more like an interrogation.

"Does Penguin come and go from Blackgate as well?" 

Ed was stepping back, trying to get away physically but the girls followed like two lionesses cornering their prey.

"I bet he does!" Nina was ready to bet again, wow.

"Are you and Penguin dating?" Diedre squinted at Ed, looking up in his eyes but still towering over him somehow. Ed swallowed nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

"I sure hope so, we shipped you two for years!" Nina jabbed a finger at him, almost daring to prove her wrong. Edward's back met the wall.

"Ladies, friends, easy there!" he raised his hands placatingly. Their eyes burned holes in him. "I really must be going now, can't be late for frustrated Jim Gordon spectacle," he tried to break free from where they trapped him against the wall but to no avail.

"First tell us about the Penguin," Diedre demanded.

Why was his personal life a main subject suddenly?

"Is he your boyfriend?" 

Ha! A loophole.

"Nope," Riddler's smug smirk returned. Fiancé is not a boyfriend anymore, technically. Diedre and Nina recoiled in shock and Ed used that space to slide off the wall past them. 

"What do you mean 'nope'?!" Query's squawk was both horrified and furious.

"Boss, you can't lie to us!"

"I'm not," Riddler shrugged. 

"I don't believe you," Diedre stated after eyeing him intently. "Are you married then?" Oof, that hit too close to home.

"Don't even try to convince us you're not totally in love with each other, Eddie," Nina's voice was equally pleading and threatening. "We've seen your pictures in the papers!"

"Okie-Dokie," Ed simply dropped before disappearing behind his bedroom door. Frustrated protests reached his ears and pulled his lips in a wide grin. "Dry the cash after you're done partying, will you?" he called and snorted at their lightheartedly thrown offers to go screw himself. 

Riddler let them know him as Ed Nygma and trusted with his hideout, but the secret of his engagement to Oswald is not his alone to keep. 

Later that night, Ed had one of the funniest interrogations with Gordon and Alvarez. They were even more furious than usual and demanded to tell them who those two women were. As if Riddler would tell them anything except more riddles and puzzles. 

The next morning, he was delighted to see Riddler, Query, and Echo occupying the front page of the newspaper he stole from a guard. Their photo was taken in their full glory by one of the surveillance cameras after getting out of their escape boat, before the shooting. Riddler was smirking and tipping his hat at the camera, the girls leaned on his shoulders from both sides: Query winking and Echo saluting with one of her handguns. All three of them stood in matching green outfits, glorious and prepared for battle and mischief. Riddler’s team, partners, friends. Kindred spirits.

Ed wondered what Oswald will say when they next meet.

Chapter Text

[...scrape, scrape, scrape, scratch…]

The non-stop grinding sound made Edward's skin crawl. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on his canvas, sitting in the Art therapy room in a big circle with other Rogues. Perhaps shrinks here at Arkham do know something because the smooth glide of his brush over the hoarse paper was indeed relaxing. As Ed watched the white steadily disappear behind the green paint, he could let his mind drift away from the nagging anxiety that's been tormenting him for months... 

[...scrape, scrape, scratch, scrape, scratch...]

If only he didn't have such a noisy artist next to him! Riddler gritted his teeth and glared at Scarecrow sitting to his left and intently rubbing a piece of charcoal against his canvas. The man was wearing his burlap mask and didn't pay attention to Edward's death stare, wholly focused on his painting as his hand jerkily moved up and down over the paper. 

Riddler audibly sighed and turned back to his own work. He resumed covering the canvas in green paint while desperately trying not to think about how he hasn't seen his fiancé for almost ten months now. Once again, he allowed his consciousness to submerge into the deep green vastness his brush was creating. Then steady pitch-black lines joined the impeccable palette, hypnotizing him with a neat pattern. 

[...scrape, scrape, scratch, scrape, scratch, scratch, scratch...]

Riddler groaned in frustration as he was once again distracted by the crazy grinding of charcoal on paper to his left. He was about to yell at Scarecrow, but this time, the interruption was actually useful because, in his half-conscious meditation, Ed was drawing black umbrellas over the forest-green background. That could've been a bust. He quickly switched back to green paint to cover the giveaway symbols. 

It's no wonder he drew umbrellas: Penguin was basically the only thing on his troubled mind lately. Ever since his first stunt with Query and Echo, Ed didn't meet his beloved bird in person. And not for lack of trying. Edward did try, multiple times. He tried pretty much every way he could reach Oswald, even going as far as sneaking into Blackgate once, which was far from simple and almost got Nina captured. But Oswald wasn't in his cell that night, and Ed couldn't risk inquiring about him — there was no way to tell which guards were on his payroll. Martin smoothly avoided all the questions regarding the subject; he was far too good at negotiations for a teenager. Riddler tried asking Olga, Miss Diaz, the manager in the Iceberg Lounge. 

All useless. 

They couldn't — or weren't allowed to — tell him where their boss currently was most of the time. And when they did, Oswald stayed just out of reach, and always was 'accidentally' unavailable. Ed was educated enough to know that, at some point, repeated coincidences become a pattern. And that pattern was bothering him perhaps much more than it should've. He wasn't prepared for such a long separation this time, and it all seemed too sketchy. 

Oswald did contact him, but only on paper and once on the phone. It succeeded in dissolving Ed's worries but only so much. Oswald didn't seem any different, he vaguely assured Ed of his feelings and promised they'll see each other soon. All in all, a standard interaction with all necessary precautions and ciphers they both knew and got used to. 

But it was seven months ago! 

Of course, difficulties with meetings were expected, but it didn't seem like Penguin was truly so unavailable that he couldn't find a free day to see his fiancé. It looked like he was purposefully avoiding him. For whatever reason, Ed could not comprehend no matter how many sleepless nights he wasted racking his brains. He was dreading to even consider one of the very logical possibilities that Oswald could've lost interest in him and their relationship. The thought was too painful, too unbearable, and Edward tried his hardest to bury it in the meditative routine, drown it in social interactions Arkham graciously provided. It was especially crucial when Query and Echo were traveling and couldn't distract or console Ed. 

Speaking of interactions… 

[...scrape, crunch, scratch, scrape, scratch, scrape, scratch, scratch, scrape, scratch...]

"Will you stop it already?!" Riddler snapped, startling other inmates in the room. Except for Scarecrow, who didn't seem to even notice his outburst. "I'm talking to you, strawbrain!" he threw an eraser at the masked man, it bounced off his head. 

That finally produced a reaction as Scarecrow turned to glare at sneering Riddler. Two pale blue eyes pierced him from behind the holes in burlap, and it would've been intimidating if the rest of his outfit was all those rags, tubes, and syringes, not the stained Arkham uniform.

"Are you too stupid to be afraid when you're supposed to?" Scarecrow uttered in a grave voice muffled by his mask. 

"Afraid of what exactly? A guy obsessed with crop protection methods?" Riddler snarled. "Agriculture is not as menacing as you think."

“My friend, you’re looking quite the fright. Have you slept at all last night?” Tetch interfered from his seat next to Jonathan in their big circle. He probably saw how Scarecrow took a sharpened pencil and held it like a dagger. It's funny how they thought Ed didn't notice. 

“Leave me alone, Tetch, my sleeping patterns are none of your business.”

“Ed, you’re being unnecessarily rude. What has happened that spoiled your mood?” Jervis turned to him fully with a curious glint in his dark eyes. With a scoff, Scarecrow turned back to his drawing and resumed the noisy stroking. 

“Nothing,” Riddler spat. “Tell your boyfriend to draw quietly. Even Croc doesn’t make that much noise.” 

Across the room, Killer Croc raised his grim gaze at Ed and grumbled something under his breath before focusing on his work once again.

“Guys, what's the problem?” their new art therapist assistant chirped. 

Miss Harleen Quinzel was a young intern at Arkham, and much too cheerful for this place. As far as Ed knew, her curator wasn't supposed to leave the girl alone in the room with the most dangerous criminally insane, but Arkham's staff stopped bothering with the rules long ago. And, well, compared to some of the other activities here, Art therapy had very few truly severe incidents. Besides, the blonde psychiatry student didn't seem apprehensive in the slightest, but rather curious and strangely fascinated. Her friendly and respectful attitude was admittedly refreshing; Ed didn't snap at her as often and harshly as he did at other doctors here. It's good they don't let her do any individual therapy, though: inmates here would eat the poor girl alive. Some of them literally.  

“Riddler’s being even more obnoxious than usual lately. Can I have a dose of my toxin to inject him and find out what’s his deal?” Jonathan asked her in a flat tone, not stopping his chaotic stroking of the charcoal against the canvas.

“Or give me back my perfume, it’ll be easier and we won’t have to suffer his screams,” Poison Ivy chimed in from behind her canvas. 

Okay, perhaps it was not Edward's best idea to taunt her with the facts about how their Arkham single-use plastic cutlery influences ecology. And remind how she's an unwilling participant in the mass earth pollution every time she has a meal here. Apparently, she preferred to stay willfully oblivious about the dumped pounds of plastic her presence within these walls causes, which Riddler considered cowardly and helpfully opened her eyes. 

“I could also use a new boy-toy,” Ivy shrugged and was met with displeased grumbles around the room. "A bit smarter this time," she added bitterly, casting a glare in the direction where the bald assassin was slowly working on his canvas. He was uncharacteristically quiet and almost apathetic lately, the doctors have to keep him half-sedated at all times since he was delirious with uncontrollable rage episodes after waking up from a coma. 

Riddler scowled at Ivy for calling him only a bit smarter than Zsasz. Or anyone else, for that matter. He was about to call her out on that, but another voice intervened. 

“I’d just knock’em out,” Waylon Jones suggested gruffly from behind his canvas. He almost did exactly that after Riddler tried to peel off one of his scales when the mutant took a nap in the rec room last month. Croc still couldn’t get over it, evidently.

“Pfft, give me matches and we won’t have a Riddler to annoy us at all,” Firefly grumbled. So she was still sore about Edward’s trivia and fun facts about fireflies he revealed to the whole rec room. He didn’t see what was so offensive in their ‘flashy’ mating habits, but Bridgit seemed to disagree.

“I could freeze him. Worked fine last time,” Mr. Freeze coldly proposed. Does he still hold over Ed that time when he ‘accidentally’ spilled a cup of hot water on Victor’s bare hand to see how his skin reacts? Riddler thought that Fries, of all people, would understand his scientific curiosity and wouldn’t hold a grudge. People are so mean and vindictive here.

“Now now, fellas, violence ain't the answer, y’all!” Miss Quinzel chastised and straightened her thin glasses. “It’s why we have Art therapy for!” 

The Rogues grumbled, unimpressed but not inclined to argue. Ed didn't mind arguing, but he once again got blissfully lost in his art: eyes followed the brush, and stressful thoughts muted at least for a few minutes. 

Soon, the intern's clock alarm beeped. “Okay, time’s up! Let' see what y’all painted. I remind, the task was: draw a person. Jonny, startin' with you!"

Jonathan frowned, his mask was hanging like a hood behind him now. "I would prefer not being addressed in such a way, Miss Quinzel."

"Okie-doks, Mr. Jonny Crane," she nodded cheerfully and puffed her blonde fringe away from her line of sight — the only bangs not currently gathered in a tight top knot. "Show us!" 

The man shook his head with a sigh and turned his canvas for everyone to see. 

"That is what you were scratching with such devotion?" Riddler cackled at the distorted ragged drawing of a scarecrow. The canvas was torn in some places from how hard and fast Jon was tormenting it with his charcoal. There were also two uneven red strokes, presumably eyes, and a caved-in area of the canvas where the scarecrow's mouth should be. 

"Stop pissing me off, Riddler," he muttered in a low voice. "It won't end well for you." 

"Bravo, bravo, my dear Mr. Crane! You've outdone yourself yet once again!" Jervis applauded his partner's work and received a small tight-lipped smile from him in response. 

"Outdone in being so frightfully lame," Ed snarked in rhyme, laughing at angry scowls he got from both men. “Time and time again drawing all the same!”

“Shush, Eddie, wait your turn!” Miss Quinzel admonished. “That's a nice drawing, very good! A scarecrow can be a person in a costume, yep. Ya get a golden star!” she almost skipped to Jon and plastered a big yellow star sticker with rounded edges and a smiling face on Crane’s uniform above the inmate number badge. Jonathan stared at her like Harleen was the crazy one here, but didn’t comment on a questionable reward. “There we go, congrats! Next, Jerv!”

Tetch turned his canvas with a self-satisfied smirk. It was a somewhat immersive painting of a bottomless pit. The gradually narrowing brown and grey blurred circles fading to black created the illusion of looking down a dark hole, or an endless tunnel. It almost seemed like there’s something behind the total blackness in the middle.

“Hmmm,” Miss Quinzel tilted her head and furrowed her brows studying it. “But where’s a person?

“My dear, they’re down the hole, of course! Got scared by the Scarecrow and jumped in with full force!” Jervis giddily explained and was supported with a proud solemn nodding by his boyfriend.

“Oookay, so dead person then?” she clarified. Jervis rapidly nodded with a gleeful grin.

“Wow, such an imagination, I wonder how long it took you to think of that,” Riddler scoffed.

“I’ll have you know, it also shows a mad person’s mind!” Mad Hatter hissed defensively. “They’re lost in the dark with no clarity to find.”

“It could also be an eye. Or a dirty pipe! You’re just conjuring up a meaning where there is none,” Ed shrugged, unimpressed.

“Neeext!” Miss Quinzel interrupted their rising squabble. “Sorry but no star, Jerv. No visible person — no star! Better luck next time! Ives, your turn.”

Ivy sat on the opposite side of the circle from Ed. She smiled at the intern and showed her painting. It was a bouquet of black and white calla lilies wrapped in green vines with red poison ivy leaves. Curious.

“Also no person, huh?” Harleen asked, although still seemingly impressed by the painting.

“People are worthless, plants don’t destroy their own planet unlike them,” Ivy shrugged.

“Oh please,” Riddler rolled his eyes. “The poison ivy vines obviously represent you, who is a person. And you seem to have found yourself a peculiar attraction. Calla lilies mean beauty in general; white ones speak of innocence while black — of mystery and elegance,” he explained his deduction, not bothered by how Ivy’s cheeks were reddening ever so slightly. “Now,  I  am the very picture of mystery, but I’m hardly an innocent. That means you’re not hitting on me. And if you are, don't even try; I’m  so  over redheads,” Ed winked at the woman, who seemed utterly stunned. Probably by his brilliance. “The only innocent person here is-...”

“I will turn you into a FERTILIZER! ” Ivy shrieked, jumping from her seat. She spread her hands, preparing for an attack. Thankfully, she was made to wear high rubber gloves fastened on her upper arms and preventing her from using those poisonous sharp nails. 

Immediately, two orderlies with stun batons charged into the room but were stopped by Miss Quinzel furiously signaling them to get back out. They stood in place, still ready for action; one of them withdrew a syringe with the tranquilizer. Ed sat very still; he tried that stuff once or twice here, his head hurt for weeks after.

“Easy, easy, everyone!” the therapist placated the enraged eco-terrorist, rising hands in surrendering gesture. “Ivy, dear, please sit down,” she pleaded. “He’s not worth it.” 

“Hey!” Riddler started to protest but decided to shut up when the orderlies took a step in his direction.

“Hmph... You’re right, he’s really not,” Ivy smirked at Ed and sat down. 

"That wasn't very professional of you to say," Riddler grumbled, staring daggers at their young intern therapist. 

"Good thing I'm no professional doctor yet, huh?" she smirked at him before turning to Ivy and switching back on track. “Now, ya don’t have a person in your paintin’, but it’s sooo pretty, Imma give you a flower as a reward,” Harleen grinned at Ivy and plastered a singing tulip sticker on her uniform. 

The orderlies returned to their posts outside the door after they saw Ivy calmly smiling at the intern. 

“Neext! Wayly, show us.”

Killer Croc turned his ‘masterpiece’ that consisted of a grey rounded shape resembling a puddle on a poorly colored with a crayon red background.

“Ummm… And that’s?..” the therapist inquired carefully.

“A rock,” Waylon grunted.

“Ookay… But where’s a person?”

“It’s crushed by rock, blood all around,” he explained with a huff, like it was so obvious.

“I thought it was a moderately accurate depiction of your only brain cell,” Riddler commented.

“Huh?” Croc frowned and scratched his scaly head with sharp claws, taking his time to process the words. “You say I’m stupid?” 

“No! No, no, no, he did not!” Miss Quinzel violently shook her head before Ed could open his mouth. She cast a reproachful glare his way.

“Yeah, he did,” Bridgit rolled her eyes.

“Nope! ” the therapist cut off the start of Croc’s feral growl. “Next one, Bridgy!”

“But I wanna star!” Waylon complained, and now everyone else except Harleen groaned in exasperation.

“But there’s no person on the drawin’...” she insisted but had to resign under his puppy stare. Well, a puppy that can chew your face off if it gets upset about a sticker. “O-okay, Imma give you a moon, a’ight? Moon's bigger than stars.”

Killer Croc processed the offer and then nodded, proudly puffing his broad chest when the intern therapist put a yellow sleeping crescent moon sticker on it.

Bridgit showed her painting. Unsurprisingly, it was a fire. Shades of red, orange, and yellow in a chaotic mix.

“Lemme guess, person burned in a fire?” Dr. Quinzel asked with a resigned sigh.

“To cinders,” Bridgit confirmed with a grim nod.

“Did you know that female fireflies have been spotted in acts of cannibalism?” Riddler asked out of the blue. Firefly facts never get old, fascinating creatures. 

“We'll see about that when I make a barbecue of you,” she snarled. Victor Fries next to her dipped his brush into green paint and added something to his canvas.

“Good idea, lady,” Killer Croc snorted. However, Ed doubted he was a real cannibal, there were no reports on such incidents. He probably only said these things for his image.

“Be nice, fellas!” the intern therapist reminded. “Vic Fries!”

Mr. Freeze turned his canvas. It was a surprisingly pleasant mix of different shades of blue. It looked like a frosted window. There were also a few faint strokes of blurred green in the middle.

“It’s an ice block,” he explained, preceding the question.

“Did you freeze a plant?!” Ivy demanded, scandalized by a mere notion.

“Nope, it’s Nygma inside,” Fries said with a slight smirk. It was followed by laughs and cheers from other inmates, Jervis clapped loudly. “Brings back good memories,” he mused.

“You mean the time when you were Penguin’s lackey?” Ed bristled, irritated by the mocking.

“His employee,” Freeze corrected. “Gotta say, he looked slight better in the ice than you. A bit less pathetic, although that's not saying much,” his flat tone contrasted with everyone else’s merry laughter. Even Jonathan smirked; the golden star from his chest was now plastered onto Tetch’s paper hat. 

“That's a lesson for ya, Eddie! Don’t be mean to others next time,” Miss Quinzel said, visibly struggling to contain her own smile. “Now, show us your person paintin’.”

Riddler huffed, deciding to not get agitated by their childish jabs. After an appropriately dramatic pause, he presented his impeccable painting. Not a single white patch of the canvas was visible, all covered in exquisite emerald with neat black question marks of different sizes and tilted at different angles.

"And I'm the one who draws the same thing every time," Jonathan muttered. 

"At least my paintings always have meaning," Riddler shrugged, straightening his glasses. 

“Oookay, boys!" Miss Quinzel intervened again before the argument became more heated. "So, Eddie, no person here either…” 

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Harleen! There is a person alright!" Ed revealed, granting her a complacent smirk. “It is I, the Riddler,” he stood up and placed one hand on his chest, pointing at his painting with the other. “The man behind many questions, the elusive enigma, the ultimate riddle!” he spread both his arms to the sides and straightened his back after a short bow. 

His glorious presentation was met with a room of utterly unimpressed gazes. Typical. 

“I wouldn’t expect any of you to understand!” he spat and dropped back on his chair, crossing hands over his chest. 

Others presented their drawings, and most of them got criticized by Riddler. In other circumstances, Zsasz probably would've stabbed him with a pencil, but the heavily sedated assassin only glared and pouted when Ed pointed out how blood-red paint poorly covered his initially drawn leaves and flowers. The Man-bat, as everyone called him, failed to tolerate Riddler’s remarks and tried to attack him. Everyone got a good laugh at how the creature was dragged out of the room by his wings, howling under the blows of stun batons. 

Amusing as it all was, Riddler still was cranky and annoyed, he couldn’t help it. He missed his Penguin! Ten months of unplanned physical separation wasn't something he had expected to get with no apparent reason. Ed truly didn't know what has happened that made Oswald try to avoid him. Query and Echo suggested he could be jealous of Ed after that picture in the news and a couple of similar after every heist with all three of them being very tactile. The girls still didn't know for sure anything about Riddler’s and Penguin's romance, but it didn't stop them from assuming it and building theories about their boss's snappy mood. 

They were wrong, of course. If Oswald was jealous, he would've met Edward and discussed everything face-to-face, they agreed to not keep secrets from each other again. Besides, he couldn't doubt Ed's love for him, Ed never gave him any reason for that. There must be something else. But at this point, Edward wouldn't mind if jealousy was the problem, at least it would mean Oswald still treasures and loves him. The alternative was unthinkable… 

Honestly, Ed was grateful for Arkham and the distraction it provided from disturbing thoughts. Ironically enough, the Asylum was keeping him sane and composed with its therapies, plenty of inmates and doctors to pester, and repetitive routine where one day smoothly slipped into another, into a week, and a month. Time was flowing differently here; it was easy to lose oneself in its current if wanted, and Ed didn't know how he would’ve coped with all this uncertainty otherwise. 

By the end of the Art therapy session, only Jonathan received a golden star reward. Not that anyone else but Killer Croc wanted one as well. 

After a lunch Ed barely touched, he sprawled on one of the armchairs in the rec room with a book on video game programming. He was somewhat distracted from the world around him when Jonathan's voice drew him out. 

"Edward. We're working on an escape plan over there. We'd appreciate your help on one of the issues." 

"What, forgot the guards' schedules again? Or can't keep a few simple steps in your heads without my reminders?" he grumbled, barely sparing a glance at Jon. 

Scarecrow stared at him with a blank expression for a minute. "No, we just want your advice. You can see the whole convoluted picture in your mind and not miss any important details." 

"Finally, some long overdue humble acceptance and appreciation," Riddler huffed, shutting his book. "It's honestly a miracle you can solve anything at all without me." 

He got up to follow Jon to the couch in the farthest corner of the room. Ivy and Bridgit sat on it while Fries, Zsasz, and Jervis stood nearby. 

Riddler threw himself onto the only free sitting spot next to Ivy.

"So, what's got you stumped? I’m sure it’s not even worth my time," he asked with annoyance, although secretly glad to have some exercise and distraction for his anxious brain. 

"You see, Nygma, we don't like how you're treating us," Bridgit stated. "Like you're better than us." 

"That's because I am," Riddler shrugged. "I'm smarter than any of you here. If we don't count Jon and Victor-.. Victor Fries, obviously," he huffed at Zsasz quirking a hairless eyebrow at him. "-then I'm smarter than all of you put together," he wasn’t discouraged by their petulant glares and leaned against the soiled armrest indifferently. "Add Croc to the mix, and he'll lower your summary intelligence so much that a Neanderthal would easily outsmart you."  

"That's not a nice attitude towards your compatriots, Riddler," Ivy said coldly. 

"Is that why you called me?" he scoffed. "To talk about manners? I have shrinks for that." 

Why couldn't they all just accept his intellectual superiority and move on? 

"No, Ed. We called you to look into my eyes. Do you hear the clock ticking?" Jervis Tetch suddenly appeared before him. 

Oh, dear...

No, no, no, no, no…  

But it was too late: try as he might, Ed already couldn't tear his gaze away from two black voids that were Mad Hatter's eyes. The last thing he grasped was a thought of what a soothing voice Jervis has and how perfectly it's accompanied by the even ticking.

—?—

Oh so very slowly, Ed started to return to his senses, crawling out of the thick haze of nothingness. His eyelids were somehow heavy, so, instead of looking, he listened to the other signals his body received. 

He was still in Arkham: the heavy smell of medicine registered first, seeping through his for some reason runny nose with every heaving breath. What was happening to him? 

Someone's gloved fingers gently threaded through his hair. Was it Oswald? But how? 

Ed was lying curled on his side with knees pulled close to his chest. His arms were tightly wrapped around someone's torso, and his face was tucked into their stomach. Yep, it's definitely Oswald. Ed smiled and nuzzled closer, burying into the warm fabric. It doesn't matter how Oswald got here, they're together, and that's the only important thing right now. Edward took a deep shaky breath to focus on the smell of his beloved bird, so soft and sweet with a bitter hint of tobacco. Except, no, this doesn't smell like Oswald at all. This person's clothes smell like earth and grass. Not unpleasant, but not what Ed expected or wanted. 

"You poor big baby," a female voice murmured above him. The hand on his head gave a gentle stroke to his hair, and another one soothingly patted his back. 

Riddler’s eyes blew open, he flinched back from the warm stomach to look at its owner. Poison Ivy was smiling down at him with what looked like an amused pity. Edward's breath got momentarily stuck in his throat before being released with an undignified yelp as he abruptly scrambled from Ivy's lap, almost tumbling to the floor from the coach seat he was curled on. Riddler jumped up to his feet like the soiled cushions burned him and glared at the Rogues gathered around. 

"Keep your hands away from me!" he spat. 

Ivy lifted her gloved hands in mock surrender. "I didn't invite you to cuddle, I just didn't deny you. You're welcome." 

Ed gaped at her blurry smirking expression. He didn't know where his glasses were, but his eyesight was enough to get his surroundings. They were all still in the rec room, not much has changed since… 

"TETCH?!" Riddler thundered, pointing a finger at the bleary figure in the paper top hat with a bright yellow smudge on it. 

"And thus our fun has met its end; Riddler returned into his skin," Mad Hatter announced cheerfully. "Worry not, my puzzled friend, your tears mostly were unseen." 

Tears?

Ed finally understood why his nose was somewhat clogged and why his breathing was so shaky. He indeed felt a familiar stinging behind his eyes, and his nose was red as far as he could see it. Edward's trembling fingers felt the half-dried tear trails on his cheeks and temple and then clenched into a fist. 

Mad Hatter laughed and pressed a finger to his lips, prompting Ed to keep quiet. He then motioned around their small group noticeably farther away from the other inmates, who didn't seem to pay them too much attention, only casting occasional glances. Not that Ed cared right now. 

"What the hell did you do?!" he growled, approaching Mad Hatter in one long stride, looming over him and glaring into his madness-filled dark eyes. 

"Nothing too bad Riddler, no need to fret. Just made you act freely without shame or regret," he shrugged, unperturbed. 

Ed was not usually a physically violent person, but right now he was struggling with holding back from punching that smirk off Hatter's face. 

"You know, I'm not even surprised," Zsasz suddenly said, grinning like a deranged child for what might be the first time since he woke up from a coma. 

"Me neither," the other Victor nodded, moving to perch on the armrest near Bridgit. 

"I didn't think they'd go that way again after all that drama," Firefly mused. "Who knew that 'oh the greatest Riddler' would cry like a toddler and curl in Ivy's lap," she mocked. 

"Oh, please," Ivy huffed. "You remember how Pengy was after Nygma shot him. And you haven't even witnessed the worst of that. Each of them turns into an overly dramatic mess where the other one is concerned, those two idiots are made for each other." 

"How… How dare you all?!" Riddler growled, clenching his fists. "I am kept closer than any good friend. No matter the cost, our wars never end. Who am I? An enemy!  And that's exactly what you all made today. I'll make you wish you could-" his rapidly spat threat was interrupted by Jonathan shoving Ed's glasses into his chest and pushing him a couple of steps back before Riddler regained his steady footing. 

"What are you afraid of?" Scarecrow tilted his head, studying Ed, who finally could see clearly. "That we'll use this information against you or your fiancé?" 

Ed would burst into tears again if he wasn't so furious. How much did he tell them?! 

"You won't get a chance," he hissed, eyeing the people around him and already calculating the ways he can destroy them most quickly and efficiently. "Prepare for the most gruesome, unimaginable, excruciating-" 

"Chill, Nygma," Freeze smirked. 

"Aah, come on, I wanted to hear what he'd come up with," Firefly pouted, not hiding her glee. 

"You…" Ed choked on his spittle. 

"Relax, no one cares about your amour with Penguin," Ivy waved her hand dismissively. Clearly amused but not cruel smirks of others seemed to confirm her words. 

"But then again, there are some people who would care," Bridgit drawled, eyeing Ed up and down from her relaxed position on the couch. 

"Is this supposed to be a threat?" Riddler sneered. "Not very smart to challenge your better, Firebug. Although, what would you know about being smart." 

"Six of us and just one of you. Do the math, it's like two plus two," Tetch chuckled, showing the equation with his fingers before snaking an arm around Scarecrow's shoulders. 

As much as Ed hated to admit it, Mad Hatter was right: he doesn't stand a chance against all of them right here right now. Especially not against Zsasz, who, on meds or not, can easily kill anyone with bare hands. And he can't let them talk about it to anyone, the word would spread too fast. There must be some other way. 

"You still owe me for the escape." 

"We owe Riddler," Jon squinted at him. 

"I  am  the Riddler!" 

"Are you?" Tetch tilted his head, grinning under Ed's glare. 

"Daaamn, I'm curious now. Can you do your thingymajig again?" Zsasz asked, more lively than Ed had seen him in years. "I can hold him for you." 

Before Ed could growl another threat, Jervis shook his head. "No can do, my curious bald friend. If he's aware, his mind he'll defend."

So, they didn't know if there was any other Riddler besides him or not. 

"You degenerates failed to get me to talk even under the trance," Riddler cackled. "How much useless can you get?" 

"That is the kind of talk that got you into trouble in the first place, Edward," Jonathan muttered as he sat next to Ivy, throwing one skeletal long leg over the other.

"We asked, but you were too busy drenching Ivy's uniform by that point," Freeze shrugged. 

"'Ozzie is avoiding meee', 'He doesn't looove me anymore', 'He got tired of me even before we maaaarried'," Bridgit mocked, scrunching her face in a grotesque parody of crying. "That's about everything you managed through your bawling," she snickered. 

Ed wanted to tell her exactly what he thinks about her highly inappropriate and poorly executed theatrics, but the sudden lump in his throat prevented him from speaking. Tetch's hypnosis loosened his tongue and let slip the thoughts he was trying so hard to banish for months. He still refused to believe it's true, but it didn't mean he wasn't feeling like it was. No, he won't cry now, not in his conscious state. It's bad enough already. 

"I'm calling in the favor you owe me. You will never disclose information about my or Oswald's personal life to anyone else," Ed muttered gravely, making sure to let the unspoken threat be heard in his voice. 

"I don't owe you," Ivy shrugged. Both Victors nodded and hummed. 

Riddler gritted his teeth. He really didn't have any choice here. 

"Ugh, fine! I'll owe you three a favor in return for your silence," he glared at them, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Oh, you'll owe us all more than that," Firefly said. "You'll stop being an ego-centric ass and treat us as equals." 

This was just ludicrous. "Pfft, my hollow flattery and blatant lies won't help the matter." Riddler scoffed. "Make no mistake, you are not my equals." 

"Do you guys think we'll get paid nicely for this info?" Zsasz mused, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. It was hard to say if it was sarcasm, his lopsided smirk wasn't a clear enough indication. 

"I know a guy, Rupert Thorne, he'd pay a fortune to get to Penguin somehow," Freeze suggested. "Did a job for him last year, he couldn't shut up about how that bird is untouchable holed up in Blackgate like in a fortress. But getting his hands on Nygma here won't be too much of a problem for Thorne." 

His suggestion was met with the approving murmurs of others present. 

Ed groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair. He'll really have to say this, won't he? He sighed deeply and prepared to bite down his pride for a moment. 

"As a generous bonus to the favors you three," Riddler eyed Scarecrow, Mad Hatter and Firefly, "stop owing me and you three," he scowled at Ivy and two Victors, "will be allowed to request of me, I have decided… to refrain from exacting revenge by an agonizingly painful manner of death for what you did." 

"That's fair, we're square," Hatter grinned and inclined his head, lifting his paper hat by an inch, perching on the armchair near Jonathan and leaning on his shoulder. 

"Aaaand?" Bridgit pressed. 

Ed pursed his lips and adjusted his glasses before muttered through gritted teeth, "I will try to hold back from pointing out your woeful intellectual mediocrity and pitifully undeveloped cerebral lobes too often." 

There, he said it. 

For some inconceivable reason, others didn't seem too impressed or reassured by his words. They eyed him with various levels of bafflement, irritation, and exasperation.  

Finally, Jonathan sighed, "I believe that's as best as we can get, honestly." 

It was met with displeased huffs, but nobody voiced any protest. 

Considering the matter settled, Ed turned to go back to relax in his armchair until the break ends. 

"Not so fast, Eddie," Ivy called. 

"What now?" 

"Aw, is this any way to talk to someone you owe a favor?" she teased. Ed glared at her but decided not to comment lest he'd piss them off again. "Good boy," Ivy smirked, and Riddler had to literally bite his tongue to stay silent. "I came up with a way you will return me the favor." 

"Already? Maybe try putting at least some thought into that? It's the Riddler’s services you're acquiring, I suggest you not waste that unique power." 

Most of the rogues present rolled their eyes. Except for Zsasz. And also Hatter, who was crouching next to him and waving a hand in front of his blank face. The assassin seems to have gone into one of his episodes again when he loses his connection to reality and wakes up growling and raging unless sedated. They happen more seldom now, he's probably getting better. Not that Ed cares. 

"Oh, I know exactly what I want from you," Ivy eyed him with a predatory glint of her eyes. Ed gulped and tried to ignore how his stomach turned suddenly. He did not want to become a plaything for this crazy plant lady. "What was that you said about redheads earlier?" 

Oh, dear. 

Chapter Text

"Eddie, you look stunning," Query gushed over Riddler dressed in the new outfit she made for him. 

"Totally suave," Echo confirmed, rolling a lollipop in her mouth. Diedre made her use it as a substitute for cigarettes at least every other time. Ed wondered if Oswald would agree to do the same someday.

"See? Even Nina gets it," Diedre smirked and then outright laughed when Nina stuck her tongue out, but it was colored blue from the candy.

Riddler chuckled at their short wrestling that promptly ended by Echo almost chocking on her lollipop. They straightened and returned to observing Ed before the full-length mirror.

"You know, I had my doubts about the hair color, but now I see it working for ya," Diedre mused, adjusting the precise angle of the green bowler hat on his head. 

"As I said, I had no choice," Edward frowned. Ivy didn't leave him any. 

He tried to avoid looking his reflection in the eyes out of embarrassment. He eyed his body up and down, plucking and tugging at the fabric that tightly wrapped and squeezed him in all the wrong places. 

"I don't even know if I can move in it properly," Ed muttered, turning from side to side in front of the mirror. 

"Don't worry, it stretches good," Diedre shrugged.

"We move pretty nicely," Nina winked. 

Both girls were in their full outfits as well, not too different from their usual, except more vibrant greens and some blacks replaced by purples, accommodating Riddler’s new look. 

"I mean, sure, it maaay be not the coziest outfit, but it looks sexy, and it'll get the job done."

"Hopefully," Nina added and received reproachful looks from the other two. 

"It will," Query insisted. "It'll lure your bird out of his hiding in no time." 

"And if it doesn't, we'll siege Blackgate until he comes running, apologizes for whatever that shit was, and kisses you till you drop from lack of oxygen," Nina grinned, stuffing her mouth with the lollipop again. 

Ed shook his head with a deep sigh. Ever since he returned from Arkham a few days ago, the girls were going over their heads to console, distract, and support him, sometimes even quite harshly snapping him out of grim thoughts. It was nice, he had to admit. Oswald is Edward's best friend, but it was comforting to know he had more people he could trust. 

That being said, he didn't tell them about his relationship with Oswald himself. That was Tetch. It's unclear if it was his way to make up for his audacious violation of Ed's free will, or if he just wanted to accelerate the process of restoring Riddler’s good spirits and thus make him less obnoxious, supposedly. Either way, he hypnotized a guard and made him look for Query and Echo all over Gotham, which wasn't the easiest feat. The guy managed to stumble upon them on a bikers' fest shortly before he ran out of energy to walk. Even though Tetch didn't know for sure if Ed was the only Riddler — or knew but didn't care — it was a good bet that Riddler’s loyal accomplices were capable of resolving the problem. By any means necessary. 

That's what led Edward to this moment: staring at his body tightly wrapped in the spandex, bright green with black question marks scattered all over the surface and a huge purple one across his chest. 

Ed was thankful for maintaining his form in Arkham's gym three times a week, and his schemes that often required quite a workout. He wasn't buffed by any means, but lean and fit enough, which was a relief since every muscle was highlighted by the stretched fabric now. Ed wasn't ashamed of his body by any means and loved to make a show for Oswald. But putting it on such a display for everyone to see was different. 

The outfit looked... provocative. And very bold. Bolder than anything Riddler thought he'd ever wear in public. And it felt too tight, but not in suffocating kind of way. He just wasn't used to the fabric being so firmly enveloped around the skin. The only questionable defense was provided by a black utility belt, not unlike the ones Query and Echo wore. 

On the bright side, Riddler very much liked his new purple domino mask. It was more convenient, less slippery, didn't obscure his vision, and accentuated his sharp features better than his old silk mask did. The green bowler hat was unusual; Ed wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. But at least it mostly concealed his now ginger hair. 

He tugged the fabric on his thigh. It stretched smoothly but returned to wrap his leg tightly as soon as he let go. 

"I feel so... exposed in it," he complained.

"You're supposed to," Diedre nodded, fixing his belt to sit better. "You have a fine body, boss, why not flaunt it?" 

"Just imagine what your birdman will say," Nina teased with a wink. 

Ed couldn't hide his devilish smirk. The girls didn't even need to ask for his confirmation to know that Oswald is a pretty jealous type — his greedy grasp on the once again reclaimed underworld empire spoke volumes. Penguin is also a man of prim fashion and three-piece suits. He'll be utterly scandalized by the sight of his fiancé parading on every TV screen in Gotham looking like a mix between an especially exhibitionistic diver and brightly-colored BDSM practitioner. With Query and Echo, who are actually openly and enthusiastically into BDSM aesthetics, he'll present a figure Oswald wouldn't be able to ignore, whatever reason he had before. 

"Let's get going then," Riddler gave himself a final look over, straightened his back, grabbed his cane, and finally met his reflection's eyes. They held hope and excitement. He did look amazing, after all, there was no denying it. "Shall we?" 

His partners grinned, picking up their weapons. All three posed in front of the mirror for a minute, quite pleased with their team's audacious and vibrant image. Nina cocked her head and spat out the bare stick left of her lollipop to the floor of their headquarters. And then had to pick it up with a sheepish smile under equally disapproving glares from the other two. 

—?—

"Ladies!" Riddler announced, and a spotlight lit his figure in the center of the darkened stage. He stood casually propped on his cane, posture free and confident. It was surprisingly thrilling to show off before the whole city in such a skin-tight outfit. 

"Gentlemen!" Query continued and stepped into the light too. She stood to his right with hands on her hips. 

"And all the others!" Echo was the third figure standing under the white beam of stage light, with her arms crossed over her chest, to Ed's left.

"Forfeit whatever inconsequential uselessness you're fumbling with and give your undivided attention to the best you'll see in a long while: the Riddler, Query, and Echo," Ed grinned at the camera, pointing with his cane at each of them respectively, every motion followed by a theatrical bow. 

"Riddle me this," he said, stomping the cane on the floor. The girls stepped closer and casually leaned on his shoulders from both sides. "I pass judgment left and right, act like crook yet speak like knight. Who am I?" 

"Despicable, nasty.."

"..hypocrite!" Query and Echo hissed after a pause. 

"Oh, how right you are, my darlings," Riddler nodded, straightening his back as a silent cue for the girls to begin the main event. With sinister grins, they stepped back. Diedre disappeared into the darkness to prepare for tonight's entertainment, and Nina circled to pick up the camera and move it closer to the center. 

Meanwhile, he continued. "Tonight, Gotham, we'll see the true face of your criminal justice system. And I do mean that literally," Riddler chuckled, taking a few steps back with the beam of the spotlight following him. "Allow me to introduce the guest of our special show," he spun around and held his cane like a microphone, "Alexander Cutler, the head of the Mayor's Office of Criminal Justice." 

The next second, all stage lit up, revealing its central attraction: a treadmill with a middle-aged man standing on it with his bare feet, naked from waist up. He clenched his eyes at the bright lights shining on him; his lips were stretched around a red ball gag fastened around his head. His shaking hands were cuffed to the metal rails installed to the sides of the treadmill. 

Query and Echo stood grinning on both sides, propping their elbows on the rails and arching their waists to show off the curves of their hips better. Ed inwardly chuckled at their excessive display of sensuality. His partners love to show off possibly even more than he does. 

"Good evening, Mr. Cutler," Riddler approached slowly, making sure to let the camera Nina had installed capture all four figures on the stage. "I presume you've already guessed what caused your current... predicament."

Without the need for a command, Diedre reached over the rails and quickly unbuckled the black strap holding his ball gag. She removed it and threw it to the side, returning to her position and flashing a predatory white-teeth grin to their captive. He wasn't looking at her though, centering his scared and raging glare on Riddler. 

"I'll have you electrocuted for this, you sick fucking psycho!" he growled. 

"Whoah! Language, mister!" 

"Yeah, what the hell! Kids are watching," Query and Echo both recoiled from the rails, shaking their heads in disapproval. 

"That requires a punishment, wouldn't you agree, my dear Query and Echo?" Riddler hummed, scowling at the politician, who lost some of his anger in favor of fear after that suggestion. 

The girls grinned and gracefully leaned behind the treadmill, making sure to show off their long legs and buttocks in fishnets to the camera. Edward suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at their shameless show. They straightened back with black leather whips in their hands. Cutler swallowed nervously. 

"Oooh, you're in for a treat, Alex, these two gorgeous mistresses know what they're doing," Riddler purred, making a show of licking his lips and giving a suggestive wink to the camera.

"Why is swearing like an old coat?" Diedre asked, landing her whip on the man's uncovered back. He howled in pain. 

"Because it is a bad habit," Nina replied, snapping her whip too. 

They struck him a few more times, their laughter mixed with Cutler's wails. Despite how it might look from the outside, Ed knew it was as far from pleasant or sexual as it gets for the politician. The girls were lashing with full force, which they had plenty. 

"Funny you should mention electrocution," Riddler mused when the girls stopped, and the man's sobs quieted a bit. "Isn't that the main instrument you suggested recently to use against the convicted, hmm? Your little 'No criminals — no crimes' initiative to invent Capital punishment in Gotham," he did air-quotes, lacing his otherwise cheerful modified voice with threatening notes. 

"I-I.. I didn't mean-.." 

Query's whip landing on his back interrupted his stuttering. 

"What exactly didn't you mean?" Riddler sneered. He stepped closer and leaned over the front of the treadmill, arching his back perhaps more than was strictly necessary. He was consciously aware of how it must look to the camera set behind him, and it sent even more unexpected thrills to the overall excitement of being on stage and broadcasted live on every screen in Gotham. "Those recommendations on a more 'permanent' judgment you presented for the Mayor? Or perhaps that statement about the necessity of the death penalty you gave on Jack Ryder's talk show last week?" 

Cutler flinched, biting his lip. 

"How is Alex Cutler on TV like a chicken on Thanksgiving?" Query huffed. 

"They're both cheap unwanted cocks!" Echo whipped him again as both girls giggled. Edward laughed at their wordplays too. They were genuinely having so much fun, and it was contagious. 

"Right you are, my precious ladies. Fun fact: to give the GCPD at least some chance, I notified them about my interest in a politician, a warrior, and a craftsman. Surprisingly enough, they managed to get the meaning eventually. So they took in protective custody Arthur Smith from the Education department, Richard Carpenter from the Social Services, and Joan Potter from the Finance. I don't want them, by the way, you can relax," he added, winking at the camera and imagining how Commissioner and his beloved police were red from head to toe in embarrassment. 

"But you, Alexander Cutler, are so unwanted, inconsequential, and simply worthless that they didn't even consider protecting you. Well, also because they're hopelessly dimwitted and incompetent, but that's another story. Fun, right?" 

The trio laughed, delighted at the mix of anger and despair in their prey's eyes.

"Anyway, what was that you said on that talk show, Alex?" Riddler brought the top of his cane to his lips as if trying to remember. "Ah yes,  'Why are we chasing the Riddler and trying to guess if he's Edward Nygma or not? Just get rid of the one in Arkham, and see if the other will appear again. The worst thing that can happen is Gotham will be free of one of her deranged lunatics and our taxes would be used for something more useful than keeping him.' " 

Ed was motioning with his cane as he quoted, and stood still when he finished. The silence was heavy and menacing. Riddler, Query, and Echo all stared daggers at the handcuffed man, who was opening and closing his mouth, trying to find a way out of his impending doom. 

"I... I'm taking it all back," he said meekly, eyes running around his three tormentors. "I renounce all my words from that program. I wasn't thinking straight, and I'm so sorry, I was so wrong. I-I'll resign from my position tomorrow, first thing in the morning," Mr. Cutler added when there was no response from the trio. If he was faking his fear and lying, it was an impressive act. 

"Now, now," Riddler tutted. "There's no need for that, not yet. People might think I just coerced you into resigning and turn you into a martyr. We wouldn't want that, would we?" he huffed a mirthless chuckle. "No, as I said, we'll show all of Gotham who you really are underneath those aggressively righteous words." 

Ed motioned to the girls, and they withdrew a metal hard hat with a few cords attached to it. Cutler tried to dodge it, but a harsh slap from Nina made him more compliant, and they set the device onto his head, securing it with straps and buckles.

"Please, Mr. Riddler, don't do this," he pleaded. 

"Don't do what?" Ed cocked his head and chuckled at Cutler's surprise when Query and Echo unlocked his handcuffs. 

"Please, just let me go," he rubbed his reddened wrists but didn't dare to try to make an escape. 

"Riddle me this: what's harder to catch the faster you run?" 

Cutler froze. His desperate thinking process was written on his face, turning hopeless with each passing second. 

"Please, I don't... Just let me go, I'll-" 

"The answer is breath," Riddler cut him off. "Save yours, Alex, you're gonna need it." 

Echo handed him a remote control for Cutler's new headpiece. Ed pressed a button, and the cords attached to the cap lit up with white LED lights. It was an unnecessary adjustment but so very pleasing to the eye. 

Their captive jumped in surprise and tried to reach for the straps binding the cap to his head. Riddler pressed another button on the remote. The next second, the politician yelped from a charge going through his head. It was far from deadly or even dangerous, but it was undoubtedly painful. The treadmill track started moving on slow speed, prompting the man to walk. 

"I decided it's fitting, seeing how you love electrocution," Riddler laughed. "Now, I was going to go over all the rules first, but you seemed to be so eager to jump into action," he gave a theatrical shrug. "I can surely relate to such excitement; I've wanted to test my ingenious contraption for a while. So, without theory, let's get on to practice! I'll explain what you and our dear viewers need to know as we go along." 

"Stop it, what are you doing?!" Cutler screeched, fear and panic once again giving in to his anger. 

He glanced back, and, seeing no danger, tried to get off the back of the treadmill. Immediately, two whips crackled, making him jump forward and resume slow steps. 

"Alex, you're such a.." 

"..bad boy," Query and Echo almost moaned in salacious teasing. 

Edward shook his head but didn't interfere with their fun. Meanwhile, they continued snapping their whips in the air, laughing as Cutler flinched in anticipation every time. 

"And why is a bad boy like an eye?" 

"They're under the lash," Echo answered and finally connected her weapon to Cutler's naked back, probably red from the previous punishment. 

"As you can see, the first rule is no stepping off the treadmill. Query and Echo will help you remember to keep moving," Riddler explained after the girls let the man slowly walk in peace. "And to provide you further motivation to stay on track, I've prepared a safety pillow for you," he snorted and motioned for Echo to pull the lever a few feet away. "Or, rather, safe waters." 

The wooden latch right behind the treadmill opened, revealing a pool with a toxic-looking vibrant green liquid with slight steam rising from the surface. Query went to the camera to adjust its angle and capture the whole scene more precisely. Cutler glanced over his shoulder and rushed to the front of his moving trail. 

"Now that we're settled, let's begin, shall we?" Edward cleared his throat and rested his cane on his shoulder before asking. "Mr. Cutler, you graduated from Gotham University, is that correct?" 

"..Yes," he replied, frowning in confusion. 

After a second, the LED lights connected to his headpiece colored green. So did the stage lights, illuminating them with an emerald glow. 

"Good. Have you ever taken a bribe?" 

"...No."

This time, all lights turned aggressive red. Cutler cried out as another jolt of electricity was sent through his helmet. After coming down from shock, he looked with horror under his feet, no doubt noticing that the treadmill's speed has increased, making him step a bit faster. 

"As you can see, lying is very much punishable here. Refusal to answer will have the same consequences," Edward explained as Query and Echo gave two more lashes so that Cutler would keep up the new speed. "Did you know that when people lie, there is an increase in activity of the key parts of the frontal, temporal, and limbic lobes? This thing," he knocked on the metal cap with his cane, "sees it all."

He grinned at the look of despair on Cutler's face. It was delightful but would take the fun out of the game. 

"Of course, you can try to fool it, and it's really the only way you get to both keep your dirty secrets and make it out of here alive." Now, that small spark of hope in his eyes is much more enjoyable. "I know a guy who lies as naturally as he breathes. I bet he could fool the system in no time." 

He wondered if Oswald is watching the broadcast right now. What if he's too preoccupied? Or doesn't have a TV available at the moment? Does he even care to watch this all?

Ed shook his head, refusing to go down that way right now. He has a game to play. Ed held the remote as inconspicuously as possible; he wouldn't want the politician to see him pressing buttons. That would ruin half the fun from giving him false hope for 'fooling the machine'.

"So, bribery, huh? Well, it's Gotham, it's a crime only on papers, I'm sure you're fine in that regard," he shrugged. "Which can't be said for dozens of other skeletons in your closet. Tell me, do you have a son?" 

He does, and Ed investigated all about him. Cutler Junior has a long history of drug abuse. One of the most striking consequences of that was the four pedestrians he killed while driving under the influence. Being a son of a wealthy politician, he was never charged or prosecuted for that. More in-depth research told that he also has a diagnosed schizophrenia, which was never treated so that a son in an Asylum wouldn't spoil Alex Cutler's image and career. It did cost three more people their lives at his manic episodes, but again, all was swept under the rug. 

All that Riddler has confirmed now for the public through the questioning. By the end of it, Cutler was jogging due to all the lies he tried to tell. He panted and sweated, but it wasn't nearly the end. 

"Ooh, didn't I tell?" Ed faked a sympathetic hiss at Cutler's yelp when he tried to hold onto the metal rails and was hit with an electric charge, which made the treadmill go even faster. "You can watch, but you can't touch," he sang-song, stroking down his own chest in the most obscene way, stopping a bit lower than his utility belt. 

The girls hummed in agreement, crackling their whips on the floor, making the man flinch. Cutler's back, chest, and shoulders were painfully red now, with blood seeping from where the lashes have broken the skin. There was no more rage in the man's demeanor, only fear and despair. Careful to not touch anything electrified, Ed perched on the front of the treadmill, having perhaps too much fun with displaying his long legs dressed in spandex to the camera. The girls were right: it is exciting. 

"Now, don't you think that your son deserves to be, as you phrased it, 'put down' for killing seven people?"  

"I.. No.. He's.. no," Cutler panted, struggling not to touch the rails anymore. 

"Hmm, what an innovative legal approach: your proposed law should be enforced on anybody who's not a politician's family. Is that what you're saying?"

".. No.. I said, I.. I renounce that.. Please just let me go," his steps faltered but were renewed after an encouraging strike of Diedre's whip. 

"Let you go?" 

"But we've just started," Query and Echo complained, letting lasciviously sweet tones in their voices. 

"So true, as always," Riddler grinned. "We talked about your son, but what about your own sins, Alex?" 

And there were plenty. From smaller ones like framing his competitor for the drug trade to his greatest hit: killing two prostitutes on the very night of his appointment as the head of the Mayor's Office of Criminal Justice. The women secretly filmed everything that happened in that bedroom before that and wanted to blackmail Cutler with it. But they didn't expect him to attack them with a knife. All that would've been hushed up and forgotten with no evidence if it hadn't been for Cutler's idiotic mistake of keeping that record inside a safe in his penthouse. 

"Keeping a trophy of your murders," Riddler tsked and shook his head, idly running a gloved hand up and down his golden cane. He lounged on a throne-like armchair Nina had dragged from behind the stage and set it before the treadmill, facing the camera. Ed didn't need to see Cutler and preferred to steal all the looks in Gotham for himself. Riddler was certain he succeeded in that splendidly as he sprawled in an outrageously indecent pose with one leg thrown over the armrest and another one lazily tapping on the floor.  

"Guess what, Alex? That is exactly what people you hate so much do. So, the question is: who's a psycho now?" he directed his gaze at the camera.

"Do you touch yourself when you watch it?" Query spat with disgust and lowered her whip on Cutler's bleeding back. Ed didn't have to look behind his throne to know that the multiple red splatters decorated her green leotard. 

"Do you dream of having their blood on you again?" Nina was equally ruthless in her punishment. 

"Who the hell does that?!" 

"You sicko!.."

"..perv!.." 

"..nutjob!" 

Every word was punctuated by whistles of their whips cutting the air. It combined with the hoarse wheezing of their prey, who could barely breathe anymore from how fast he was running. The politician has lost the ability to scream a few minutes ago.

"GCPD! Don't move!" the call reached them from the other end of the abandoned theater where the whole event took place. 

"At last," Riddler groaned, gracefully rising from his seat. "We were getting bored here, I thought you imbeciles would never come," he taunted and pressed a button on the remote. 

A thundering blast above was followed by a fair section of the ceiling caving in, effectively cutting off the approaching police force from the stage. It'll buy them enough time. 

"Well, I wish I could say this has been a pleasure, but..." Edward shrugged at the red-faced man. He could barely place one foot in front of the other, squeezing his eyes when drops of sweat from his forehead slid into them. 

"That's all for tonight, Gotham," Riddler addressed the camera. "Don't believe everything you hear on TV from sleazeballs like this one without checking the facts," he accepted a folder from Nina. Ed waved it to the camera before dropping it in front of the treadmill. "Good thing that among the whole population of our fair city, there is one person who is capable of conducting a productive investigation. You're welcome," he gave a slight bow with his head only, tipping his hat with the question mark of his cane. 

"I...c..can't..." Cutler barked out between desperate intakes of air. 

"Give up then," Diedre pointedly eyed the pool of bright green liquid behind the treadmill, while picking up their stuff. 

"Nobody cares," Nina huffed and yanked the cap from Cutler's head.

Both girls approached Riddler, ready to leave. 

"No...Ple...please..." Cutler whined, stumbling and almost falling. 

"Welp, you can say thanks to the GCPD for being so astonishingly slow at figuring out where we are," Ed shrugged. "Let's go, my lovely ladies. Our work here is done, and we have so much more fun to do," he purred. 

All three of them turned their backs to the camera. Ed gave his cane to Nina and coiled his arms around the girls' slim waists as they all leisurely walked to the backstage. Riddler whistled a light melody, and his partners giggled, swaying their hips in rhythm, bouncing them against his own and making him swing too. 

Almost at the emergency exit, Ed heard an inhuman terrified screech 'HELP!' followed by a loud splash. Riddler and his partners cackled: Alex Cutler will have a tough time washing all that green dye from his skin and hair. Especially in prison, where the GCPD undoubtedly will take him with all the evidence Edward provided for them. 

Meanwhile, Riddler needed to make his way back to Arkham. He'll have his law enforcement visitors first, and then wait to see if his bird has taken the bait.  

—?—

This time the visit was unusual. Instead of one of his uninspiring detectives, Gordon sent Lucius Fox to interrogate Edward. Normally, Riddler would love to chat with Foxy: catch up, get him to solve a riddle or two, ask what curious projects he's working on after designing the new Clock Tower. But, frankly, his mind was not all there at the moment, mostly busy picturing Oswald's reactions and considering the possibilities. Would he break Ed out with a bag on his head again? Would Penguin be more furious or jealous? What would he say of his new outfit and hair color? Oh, the things he'll do to Riddler when they meet...

It was such a shame really that he couldn't pay more attention to Foxy. They clearly wanted to try some new tactics on him: get Edward to talk and slip up somehow. Perhaps it was an attempt to provoke his ego or even remorse if Foxy's words of disappointment and wasted potential but lingering hope were anything to go by. Alas, Ed was too busy to play that game right now, and could only assure him that his potential is far from wasted here, refusing to elaborate. Hopefully, they'll send Foxy to him again next time; it's much more pleasant for every party involved. 

Ed laid back on the rough bed in his cell. He wondered if Oswald was also questioned about Riddler’s tonight's escapades. Gordon did interrogate him about that a few times before; Ed grinned at the memory of his fiancé retelling him that. The laughs they had together!

Suddenly a fire alarm blared through the whole building, and all the doors got sealed by thick metal bars as required by the automatic emergency lockdown protocol. The guards walked to the cells, opening them, cuffing the inmates, and leading them out one by one. Evacuation has begun. 

Ed got up and let the guard put handcuffs on him. He couldn't help the flutter of his heart at the thought that it all might be Penguin’s doing. It seemed more and more plausible as the guard led him to the side corridor while others proceeded to the emergency exit. Ed glanced at the other inmates escorted and through the blinking red lights caught Jonathan shaking his head, Ivy rolling her eyes, Bridgit cursing the shrill sirens, and Jervis cackling between muttering some rhymes. 

The guard led Riddler to the infirmary, uncuffed, and shoved him into a padded cell before locking the door. Ed huffed and sat on the floor, leaning with his back to the wall. 

Not fifteen minutes later, the alarm went quiet. Soon after, a door at the end of the hallway buzzed open, and Ed could hear oh so familiar uneven gait and click of a cane on the stone floor. He couldn't keep a smile spreading over his face. Oswald came to him! Still, as the steps grew closer to his cell, Edward schooled his expression. He was so eager to see his fiancé but also frustrated with the whole situation. He needed answers. 

"EDWARD! " Penguin’s screech preceded a muffled thud of the door furiously blasted into the padded wall of the cell. "What. The hell. Was that?!" 

Despite his determination to stay spitefully indifferent, Ed couldn't resist a glance over his fiancé seething in the doorway. Oswald looked even more dashing than usual. His black tuxedo with tailcoats flawlessly highlighted all the somewhat rounded curves of his body. The maroon pattern on his silk tie was like splashes of blood against his crisp white shirt. Polished shoes reflected the fluorescent light like liquified black mirrors. One hand tightly clutched a cane, another still held onto the door handle. 

Oswald gained a few more pounds than the last time they'd met, and it looked beautiful on him, even his slightly rounder cheeks were healthy pink instead of pale white now. Although it might be due to the boiling rage and an angry scowl Penguin is still showing. Edward's mouth watered at the sight of a black top hat adorning his bird's head. Oh dear, he looks even better in it than Ed had imagined...

Nope, he's not going to give in to the temptation now. He's supposed to be resentful for being avoided for months, not drooling at the gorgeous man before him. 

"So now you've decided to see me, how wonderful," Ed grumbled, crossing arms over his chest and looking at the small dent in the wall's padding. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Penguin stepped into the cell, letting the door close behind him. 

"Oh, please, Oswald," Riddler scoffed, swiftly and gracefully rising to his feet. "Don't insult my intelligence by lying that you weren't avoiding me," he spat, meeting Penguin’s glare with equally agitated one. 

Oswald's mouth opened and closed, lips pressed in a thin line before he found the words. "I couldn't find an opportunity to-" 

"Ten months, Oswald," Ed growled, taking a step closer and towering over his partner. "You've been avoiding me for more than ten months without any explanation. I know our possibilities and limitations; don't waste your time trying to hide behind them." 

"Fine," he spat. "But I had my reasons, and I hardly think it warrants cheating and then advertising it to the whole city," his voice wavered, but expression remained an angry scowl. 

So the bait Diedre and Nina suggested has indeed worked. Not surprising, given all the hints they had dropped during the performance. 

"What do you mean, cheating?" Ed gasped, approaching another step closer and playing his part, for now. "How can you even think that?" 

He saw water welling up in Oswald's eyes, and it took all of his power not to lunge into his embrace and kiss those unspilled tears away. Reassure him of how much he is always loved and cherished, how loyal and, honestly, obsessed Ed is with him. Riddler hated to do this to his beloved fiancé, but he needed to know. 

"What else am I supposed to think?!" Penguin predictably used fury as a defense mechanism. "You hire two gorgeous girls from Pandora's Box, dress them up in the most provocative way, cuddle up with them on every picture. And, to top it all off, parade on national television in skin-tight spandex, bragging about the 'fun' you three have." 

He was shaking, stubbornly refusing to wipe the tears sliding down his cheeks. Ed couldn't take it anymore. Time to stop this game, nothing is worth Oswald's suffering. 

"Oswald, it was all just for show," he said without a shade of anger he felt before. He tried to reach out to dry his tears, but Oswald recoiled, stepping back and sharply doing it himself. 

"Oh, sure, 'it's not what it looks like', right, Ed?" he mocked. "I would expect a better excuse from someone of your intelligence. But, frankly, I don't know what to expect anymore. You could've at least told me that something was wrong. We could've fixed it, together," his voice broke on the last words, all fury gone and only sorrow left. 

"Oswald, I swear to you, I love you with all my heart, now and always! Real cheating is entirely unthinkable, it was all just a ploy to get your attention," Ed assured, taking a step closer again and grasping his shoulders. Oswald didn't try to escape his hold. "I just missed you, and didn't know how else to lure you out; you refused to see me," he was glad to see the despair replaced by bewilderment in the green and blue eyes. "This was an unfair plan, perhaps even cruel, I admit, but it was my last hope. I thought you got sick of me, seeing how much you avoided meeting. Provoking your jealousy could work if you still cared, and it did — you came to me." 

Ed was trembling too but refused to give in to emotions too much. Oswald stared at him with mouth hanging open for a good minute. 

"You're kidding, right?" 

Oh dear, it sounded like a hiss of a fuse before the explosion. Ed swallowed and shook his head no, pursing his lips and preparing for the incoming onslaught. His hands released Oswald's shoulders; it somehow felt too dangerous to touch him right now, like trying to hold ball lightning. 

"I cannot believe you, Edward Nygma," Penguin snarled, getting even closer to Ed, their chests brushed. "You got something absurd in your head, came up with the most outlandish plan to make me think... that," he did a vague gesture, probably not wishing to voice that concept again. "You went through all that trouble instead of, I don't know... TELLING me what's bothering you?!" he shrieked, burning holes in Ed with his glare. His nostrils were flaring, and a vein pulsed on his forehead. Edward was distantly aware of a blade attached to the cane handle Oswald's hand was trying to crush in his grasp. After a minute of staring daggers, Penguin groaned in frustration and ran a hand down his face, turning his back to Riddler and taking a couple of steps away from him. 

Oh...

Oh, my... 

Oh, shit!...

Oswald is actually right. Ed never told him anything about his concerns and anxieties, never even explicitly insisted on meeting. Aside from expressing his frustration to Penguin’s underlings a couple of times after failing to make a surprise visit, he didn't show any signs of distress to Oswald. 

"But you didn't deny it, though," Ed reminded, deciding to focus on what's more important here. "You said you had your reasons for avoiding me. What are those reasons, Oswald?" 

Riddler could see it in the momentarily tensed line of Oswald's shoulders that he got him. Penguin’s hand gripped his cane tighter as he stubbornly stared at the padded wall. 

"It wasn't jealousy, was it?" Riddler asked, barely keeping his triumphant smile. 

"No," Oswald replied, too quickly. "...Not exactly," he added quietly. 

"What then?" 

"It was more like an unexpected look from the outside. Seeing things from a different perspective and reevaluating some proclivities now that there's a clear point of reference," he gave one of the vaguest answers Ed has ever heard from the man. "Two points, even," he muttered, barely audible with an exhaled sigh.

"What is that supposed to mean, Oswald?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Penguin groaned. 

Edward just stared at the back of his head until he spun around. 

"I mean, look at me!" he spread his arms to the sides as if proving some point. 

Ed eyed him from head to toe, scanning for anything out of place. But Oswald was perfect; there's no other way of putting it. 

"I'm looking, Oswald," he said impatiently, thinking that perhaps Penguin was going to show something and genuinely having no idea what's going on. Ed hated not knowing. 

"Don't make me say it, Ed," he almost pleaded. 

"Say what? What's going on with you?" 

"I'm fat, that's what's going on!" Penguin snapped, stomping his cane on the padded floor. 

Ed stared at him in disbelief, at a loss of words for a few long seconds. "You're... What? Do you actually believe that?"

Penguin scoffed and started to pace back and forth along the wall of the small cell. "I don't need to believe for it to be true, Ed. I'm not blind or deaf — I see my reflection, and I hear what others say. And then I look at you so lean and perfect together with those two amazons, and I feel my inadequacy so much stronger than ever before, and I-"

"Come here, you silly bird," Riddler murmured, catching his Penguin mid-pace and winding his arms around his softer frame. Oswald's top hat fell to the floor from the impact, revealing black ruffled hair styled more neatly than the usual spikes to accommodate the headwear. 

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I tried so hard to get back in form, but I failed, and I was so ashamed of myself for it," he muttered, burying his face in the crook of Ed's neck and clutching at his striped uniform. 

"And that's why you avoided me?" Ed whispered, shaking his head. 

Oswald nodded and pressed himself even closer. "I did lose some weight over the months, but it's so slow, and I seem to be gaining even more lately with all the stress," he sighed. "I only want what's best for you, Ed, and I never had any illusions about my appearance before, but this... I couldn't bring myself to show up looking like this," he shrugged as much as his position allowed. "But I promise I'll keep working on it and-" 

"Stop it! I will hear no more of this nonsense," Riddler cut off his rambling, pulling back from the hug and grasping Oswald's upper arms. "I want you to look me in the eyes so you know I'm being sincere," he said with full seriousness, and Penguin nodded, maintaining eye contact. "Oswald, you are the most beautiful, desirable, irresistible human being I've ever met. I don't care if not everyone shares my opinion, I don't care if your beauty is commonly considered unconventional or whatever. Opinions of less-minded nincompoops never concerned me and shouldn't bother you either. I cannot tear my eyes from you most of the time, and believe me when I say that I'm as much in love with your magnificent body as I am with the person it belongs to."

Ed was gratified to see tears welling up in the eyes looking up at him, but for an entirely different reason than minutes ago. 

"And as for your weight, I did tell you multiple times that I'm glad to see your good appetite returning, didn't I?" Penguin pursed his lips but nodded. "I wasn't joking, Ozzie. I never want you to go through the hunger again, forced to share scraps with your dog and feeling embarrassed with your empty stomach's grumbling. I do love you getting more soft and healthy, you look and feel so, so good," he purred, squeezing his hands slightly to feel the fabric and flesh dip under his fingers. 

Oswald's cheeks gained a pink flush. He lowered his gaze but had to look in his eyes again when Ed hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his head up. 

"Now, tell me how long do I have to demonstrate just how much I mean it," he murmured, getting closer to those luscious lips faintly smelling of expensive tobacco and white chocolate. 

"At least until the morning so that the shift at six won't notice us leaving," Oswald whispered, running his hands down Ed's back. "This whole infirmary wing is now locked down for a week as an infection hazard, and I'm the only one with the key." 

"Oh, you infect me, alright," Riddler murmured, chucking at Oswald's eye roll. "And, Oswald?" 

"Yes?" 

"Do tell me the names of the cretins who dared to make you feel insecure about your body. I will feed them their tongues and rip out all their teeth. Then I'll give them huge chunks of barbeque and watch them slowly die of hunger as they fail to bite off a bit to swallow."

"Your creativity knows no bounds, my love," Oswald's eyes lit up with a different type of hunger. "But all that later. I take it you wanted to see me. I'd say it's long overdue." 

They didn't say anything else, preferring to drown in their love, to know, feel, and taste nothing but each other.  

Later, when Ed was once again strongly reassured that he is very much loved, and Oswald was thoroughly convinced that his body is as desirable as always, they cuddled up with their backs to the padded wall, limbs intertwined under a blanket Ed brought from the main infirmary room. Their clothes laid scattered across the floor; luxurious linens tangled with the coarse striped fabric, the visible lowest patch with number '5' stitched to it.

"Pandora's Box?" Edward remembered as he laid his head on Oswald's shoulder and idly caressed his soft middle. 

"Hmm?" 

"You said Query and Echo worked in Pandora's Box. What's that?" 

"Seriously, Ed? Are you telling me I know about your partners more than you do?" he snorted and hissed when Riddler pinched a fold of skin on his side. "It's one of the most... open-minded elite S&M establishments in Gotham, rivaled only by the ever-flourishing Foxglove. Your friends perform pole dances there occasionally; they gather quite a crowd. And I'm not even sure if they do it for money or sheer exhibitionistic pleasure. All three of you seem to share it if today's performance is any indication," he huffed, tracing fingertips over Ed's back. 

"Well, I won't deny, it was thrilling," Ed admitted with a pleased smile. "Wait, how do you know all that? Have you been to Pandora's Box? Did you figure out who they are?" 

"Oh, please, Edward. Contrary to what you said on that stage, you're not the only one capable of conducting an investigation in this city," they shared a short laugh. "I wouldn't let any potential hidden enemies get so close to you, and no, I don't feel guilty for studying your new allies' backgrounds, you would've done the same for me. Besides, I didn't build my city-wide network for nothing. It's my job to know everything about kinky and dubious organizations such as these, so it could be useful for everybody to have people on the inside. Where else would one find some juicy leverage on the members of the city's elite?"

"Kinky, huh? Sounds intriguing, perhaps I should ask the girls to take me there someday." 

"Don't you even dare," Penguin muttered threateningly and lifted Ed's head by the chin, claiming his gaze. "I'll take you there myself." 

Riddler shivered at the promise. "When?"

"Next time we're both out, I suppose. It would be a nice send-off before I go to the High-security. I'll have to spend some time there without leaving, so don't panic again," he pressed a kiss to Ed's forehead. 

Riddler chuckled and nodded. He did overreact this time, admittedly. 

"So, what did you think about my new image? Was I glorious, dangerous, mysterious? Did you like the suit?" 

"Hmm... I didn't like that I wasn't the one to take it off," he muttered. "The new mask was lovely, I suppose. But I can assure you that if you wiggle your butt before the whole Gotham once again, you won't be able to sit on it after I'm done with you," he grasped said body part to emphasize the point. 

Ed gulped, equally intimidated and somehow thrilled by the threat. 

"I'll take it as a compliment, then," he chuckled. 

"Oh, I was sure you would," Penguin fondly rolled his eyes. 

"Do you know what's the best part about that outfit?" Ed asked and waited for Oswald to arch a brow. He leaned closer and whispered into his ear, "It would've looked less pretty if I'd worn any underwear with it."

Ed burst out laughing at Oswald's choked whimper, especially comical with the furious blush of his cheeks. 

"No und-.. You.. Wh.. ED!.." he sputtered, trying to form a proper reaction and groaning in frustration. The scene made Ed cackle even louder as he threw his head back on the padded wall. "That's it, Edward Nygma! I'm officially forbidding you to wear that horrid costume anywhere outside our bedroom!" 

Ed made an over-the-top scandalized gasp.

"Are… are you suggesting I should bring my next victim into our bedroom? Make them watch? Record everything on camera? Or do another live broadcast?..." Riddler rattled ideas, relishing the rapidly reddening cheeks and widening eyes of his fiancé. "And to think you're calling me exhibitionistic! My, my, Mr.Penguin, you're-"

"Shut that dirty mouth of yours," Oswald chocked out, horrified at the mere concepts. "I will not have every gawking cretin in this city ogle at my future husband parading virtually naked on screen."

"Ooh, so bossy," Riddler cooed teasingly. "I'd love to see how you plan to enforce that restriction," he challenged, quirking an eyebrow at his fumbling and pouting bird. 

"Your new friends are a bad influence on your behavior, Edward," Oswald admonished finally. "You were incorrigible long before meeting them, but now you're just preposterous!" 

"Mmhmm, and you wouldn't want me any other way," he purred, reaching for Oswald's lips as the ruffled bird made a show of rolling his eyes, unable to argue that. 

They melted into the kiss, never getting enough of each other. After a minute and a few more lazy pecks, Ed returned to rest his head on Oswald's shoulder once again. He nestled deeper in his embrace, exhaling a sigh of complete satisfaction and resuming to stroke his hand over his bird's warm stomach. 

"You'll like them, Query and Echo," Ed said a few minutes later. "They're fun and capable." 

"Hmm, I suppose we'll see," Oswald shrugged slightly. "I do appreciate that you've got loyal friends who can protect you. As long as they know you're just friends." 

Ed had half a mind to tease him but decided that today's game of jealousy was more than enough already. 

"They do know, trust me," he smiled. 

"You didn't tell them about us, did you, Ed?" 

"...No, of course not," he managed. 

Technically, it wasn't a lie — he didn't tell them anything himself. It was a lie of omission, but Edward deemed it forgivable. The last thing he wanted right now was causing Oswald's distress or anger because of his own shameful overreaction and miscommunication. Come to think of it, Oswald doesn't need to know about that fiasco at all — everyone who had learned about them agreed to stay silent. 

"They are girlfriends, then?" Penguin asked. 

"Umm, I think so. It's hard to tell," Ed frowned. "They don't seem to be very romantic about it, not like other couples I've seen at least. All I know is that they're absolutely inseparable. It's actually rare to see one without the other, rather fascinating how they do that." 

"You seem to be very fond of them," Penguin muttered in a deliberately flat tone. 

"Aww, you're so cute when you're jealous," Riddler teased, earning a slight slap on his thigh where Oswald's hand caressed him. "But you don't need to be, Ozzie. According to Nina, they've shipped us long before we met," he snorted, shaking his head at that ridiculousness. 

"They what us?" 

Ed laughed until Oswald's pinch prompted him to explain. "It means they want us to be a couple." 

"...Why?" 

"I can't really understand, but they were quite adamant about swatting a few of my fangirls away from me recently," he chuckled at the memory of that. 

"Of course they were, with how much they want to touch and cuddle with you themselves," Penguin muttered, tightening his hold over Ed. 

"Oh, yes, they do," he nodded, smiling. "They're both very tactile and physical in general. I bet they'll cuddle the hell out of my very huggable bird, too," he purred. Ed nestled impossibly close against Penguin’s side, coiling all his limbs around the soft frame like an enamored octopus. 

"They'd better not, I do have a reputation to maintain," he huffed. 

"It never stopped me," Ed murmured, shifting closer to his bird's lips. 

They moved to kiss, but right before their lips touched, Oswald pulled back as if remembered something. 

"Ed, why is your hair ginger?" 

Riddler scoffed. "I owed a favor to Ivy, and that's how she chose to collect it after my passing comment about redheads," he grumbled. 

The audacity of that woman, to waste such an exclusively grand power of Riddler’s favor on merely making him dye his hair red for the whole next year. What a disgrace. 

Oswald laughed, lovingly ruffling Ed's locks before pulling him into a sweet kiss that instantly melted away all his irritation. There's no other person who can do it so easily with a simple touch, and Ed is happy to give that control to his beloved bird. 

Edward pulled Oswald atop of him, mewling in delight at the solid press of the warm body and additional softness on his bony angles. They had some more time before saying goodbye. 

Chapter Text

Waking up was unpleasant, to say the least. The dull ache in the back of his head returned first. Then a familiar throbbing of his bad leg followed and soon was joined by the pain spreading all over his chest. With a soft groan, Penguin opened his eyes to the fluorescent lights of the infirmary ceiling and frowned at the stale smell of medicine. 

"Thought I'd never see you again," the prison doctor grumbled, not stopping his standard check-up. "I wish I was right at least once in my life."

"Good day to you too," Oswald grunted, wincing as the doctor pressed and probed at his aching ribcage. "I know back-alley butchers nicer than you." 

"I'm not paid to be nice," he muttered flatly. "Shut up and breathe deep." 

Oswald rolled his eyes but complied as the old man pressed the cold metal of the stethoscope to his chest. The doctor was paid more than enough, it was one of Penguin’s first necessary investments here, considering how often he used to visit this particular part of the prison. 

Penguin didn't plan on getting placed in the infirmary this time. Although, it was nothing too unexpected when orchestrating a mass prison breakout and intentionally failing to escape himself. At least everything else seemed to have gone according to plan before he unexpectedly got knocked out. 

As a result of these almost five years of prison life, Penguin has created a stable network system, putting reliable informants in pretty much every major enough enterprise. This machine was still young but very promising, with every cog relatively independent and completely replaceable. The GCPD was admittedly hard to properly infiltrate, mostly due to 'Saint' Gordon's brainwashing of his subordinates into following the light of the Law. But, thankfully, people's greed and fear are more effective and easily win moral arguments in one's head when needed. Most importantly, Penguin subtly controlled a large part of Gotham's legal system, which allowed him to oversee who gets prosecuted and sentenced. It was always useful to command, or at least predict, the flow of newcomers into his 'headquarters'. 

Finally, the time has come for Oswald to progress on his way to power and delve deeper into the bowels of Blackgate Penitentiary. He had everything ready: the new Warden on his payroll appointed, the new leader for the Street Demonz chosen, and taught to prioritize Penguin's needs over any other crime lords. On his own seat of power among the General population, Oswald decided to leave Jason, who was always loyal to him and had a bunch more brain cells than an average thug. 

The breakout was surprisingly easy to organize: a few bought guards remained blind to the inmates sneaking out of their cells in the dead of night. Those who weren't on Penguin's side got knocked out or killed off when the real riot started. Oswald made sure that a large number of thugs he needed on the streets got out, while he and a few chosen others were caught and blamed for starting the whole mess. They'll be his avid bodyguards when all of them get punished and transferred to the High-security wing. God knows he'll need all the available muscle in there, especially at first. Otherwise, he might not even make it to the infirmary after some unfortunate disagreement. 

"Nothing's broken, just bruises. You'll live, as always," the doctor muttered after finishing his inspection. "Don't know for how long, you're off to High-sec tomorrow morning. So get some beauty sleep, it may be your last." 

"No need to be so dramatic about it, I'll be fine," Oswald huffed, turning on his side and tugging the blanket over his shoulders. He really wanted a smoke, but even more than that, he needed to rest. The doctor was not entirely wrong, it's going to be a while until Penguin gets his comforts back in the other wing. 

—☂—

So far so good. 

A couple of weeks have passed since Oswald settled in High-security wing, keeping his head relatively low for now while testing the waters. 

He met several old capos here, once again confirming what he had realized long ago: the good days of mafia families are no more. They're like a few dinosaurs left after the Ice Age: still breathing and struggling with their irrelevance, but destined to become relics of the past. 

Of course, the criminal power vacuum left after the reunification and the extensive arrests that followed was bound to be filled once again someday; Oswald had known it long before the new major players showed themselves. Fortunately, his foresight and position literally among the criminals gave him a good head start. Every criminal released from the General population wing now was more or less under Penguin’s thumb, even if they didn't realize it. Thus, Oswald had eyes, ears, and hands within every new criminal organization that slowly appeared outside the bars despite the GCPD's best efforts. 

And there were a few very ambitious players at the heads of those organizations. 

One of them — Roman Sionis. His company, Sionis Investments, was struggling ever since his father's downfall shortly after the Waynes murder and an unfortunate encounter with Jim Gordon. As a result of the year of constant war, the business was hanging by the last thread, inevitably sliding toward bankruptcy. Roman wasn't as good as his father was at maintaining the iron grip on his business, but he was a better survivalist. He had his weird obsessions, like pretty much anyone notable in Gotham, but on the ashes of his father's business empire, he tried to build a criminal one. Roman Sionis wasn't unsuccessful by any means, but his current state wasn't a cause for worry yet. He needed handling and restraining, but very subtle. 

Much like a few other players such as Carlton Duquesne and Carl Grissom. They weren't big enough fish for Penguin's rapt attention, but need to be observed closely due to their potential. For now, Oswald was content with how they tried to bite a piece of each other, not really bothering him. 

Then there was a new Ventriloquist, this one by some crazy ironic coincidence really called Arnold. Oswald hasn't met him yet and was frankly skeptical when he heard about a meek man with a violent mafioso doll — or dummy, whatever — named Scarface sitting on his arms and giving orders. What are the odds of an eerily similar affliction suffered by two people not connected with each other in any way, according to Oswald's research? Only in Gotham... Arnold Wesker and his Scarface have yet to show his — their? — worth to the underworld. For now, he's reasonably considered to be just another lunatic with a gun, leading a small drug trade operation. At least this Ventriloquist doesn't seem to hold any personal grudge against Penguin. 

Right now, the most dangerous of the rivals was Rupert Thorne. He was the only one who actually realized the threat that Penguin posed from behind the bars, while others promptly discarded him for that. Thorne even went as far as sending a few assassins after him into the Blackgate, which, needless to say, didn't work out. 

Gotham's current mayor, Hamilton Hill, received his job only thanks to Thorne's careful manipulations after Mayor Chang's untimely demise. Last year, he was re-elected to serve a second term, effortlessly besting Aubrey James, who, despite his dubious history with that position, thirsted for power once more. Well, Penguin will provide him with it in the next election in three years. They never went along well, but Aubrey James served under Don Falcone for years: he knows how to play by the rules and can be humble enough to recognize who's really in charge. 

But to do that, Penguin needed to weaken Thorne so that he and Hamilton Hill wouldn't stand a chance next election. Otherwise, Mayor Hill together with Rupert Thorne will present too big of a problem in the future if left unleashed now. Oswald knew first hand how convenient it was to have a solid claim on both criminal and official systems, it's high time for stripping Rupert Thorne of this much power. 

Penguin spent some time thinking of a way to cut some ties between Thorne and major gang members contained in the High-security. It will inevitably weaken his grasp of power. Disposing of, or better yet, converting some of Thorne's lieutenants beyond the Blackgate would be a great start and the right move in any case. Penguin investigated them, thus learning who is vulnerable to pressure, blackmail, or outright threats and generous bribes. But this wasn't that easy, this job required surgical precision, good aim, and quick thinking in case an improvisation was necessary.

Oswald also needed someone with a name making that move, not just a random gang. Nobody would believe they could devise a multi-stepped plan against Rupert Thorne and Mayor Hill for no apparent reason. And Penguin was too comfortable in his 'fortress' to out himself as the perpetrator and leave this place with so much unfinished business. He needed some infamous figure to take the spotlight.

There was a time when Oswald would've sent Victor Zsasz with a few instructions and trust that everything would be fulfilled according to his famed efficiency. Alas, he'll have to find another professional for such a series of specific tasks. 

Luckily, the High-security wing contained some of the most capable hitmen. And Penguin might just have a perfect candidate in mind. 

—☂—

Oswald watched him from the doorway. 

The white-haired mercenary with a short beard and a black eyepatch covering his right eye was a swirl of movements as he spun, jumped, dodged, and counterattacked with his wooden staff against invisible enemies. It looked more like an elaborate dance rather than a late-night training session in the prison gym. Oswald watched mesmerized the man's toned muscles tense and release like springs as he whirled and released a series of quick jabs with both ends of his staff. Penguin could easily picture how the bones would've crushed if it was a real fight. 

"If I wanted an audience, I would've come here during the day," the man said just loud enough for Oswald to hear. Incredible, he wasn't even a bit short of breath even though he didn't pause this intense training for the last five minutes Penguin watched him. And the man was in the gym for almost an hour already. 

"I didn't come here for a performance, Mr. Wilson," Penguin said from where he stood leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Although I won't deny the pleasure of witnessing it." 

Slade Wilson scoffed, not pausing his elegant battle dance. Oswald decided to continue. 

"You, Mr. Wilson, are a man of exceptional talents if the rumors of unstoppable Deathstroke the Terminator are to be believed," he took a few slow steps into the gym, approaching the mercenary. "Although, as I understand, there're usually not many eyewitnesses left to tell the tale after you're done."

"Get to the point, Penguin," Deathstroke said as he whirled around and jabbed one end of his staff into the face of some imaginary foe. 

Oswald leaned with his shoulder onto the pull-up bar stand, stopping just outside of the sparring area where Deathstroke exercised. 

"As a man with many resources, but even greater ambitions, I sometimes find myself lacking a person of appropriate professionalism that would suit the needs of my operations. I suppose we could-" 

"Not interested," Slade cut him off, not even sparing a glance. 

"At least hear me out," Penguin insisted calmly, keeping his temper in check. There really was no one better than Deathstroke among those available right now. "We could be useful for each other." 

"Whatever job you're trying to propose, I don't want it. I'm not some street thug and have zero interest in your gang wars."

Ah, a mercenary with a code of honor. Oswald heard about that trait when he researched Deathstroke. Honestly, it's not too big an issue. Penguin just needs to make Slade's morality align with his plans. It's not like he wants to ask the man of something he's never done before.  

"I assure you, Mr. Wilson, I'm not going to compromise your honor's integrity, if that's what you're worried about. I'm not a monster." Slade snorted at that, Oswald pursed his lips. "You don't have to like me. Think of me whatever you want, but my money is good, and so is my promise of an early release." 

Deathstroke did a somersault, smoothly rising to his feet and answering with a voice as steady as if he was sitting in place. 

"I've been here for two years. Three more, and I'm out on parole. It's still better than serving as your pawn." 

"What if you could get out in a year, give or take, and have all the records of you being here deleted permanently?" Oswald considered his next words but decided to risk it. "I'm sure you have somebody to come back to, perhaps your-" 

He almost bit on his tongue as one end of Deathstroke's staff stopped not more than an inch away from his good eye, a gust of air tickling his eyelashes. Oswald didn't even get a chance to react before the weapon retreated, and Deathstroke resumed his training. The threat was clear as day: this territory must remain untouched. Oswald could relate, really. 

There must be some other approach, Penguin thought as he watched the warrior spin around and slash the air with his staff. Deathstroke seems to be against working for Penguin personally. Does he see him only as a dishonorable monster? It's not too surprising, considering that he's not local to Gotham. He wasn't even apprehended here, he'd been transferred to Blackgate Penitentiary after it became clear that it's currently the most equipped facility on the East coast for containing inmates with superhuman strength. It was rebuilt with Bane in mind, after all. 

Well, since it was personal and just a case of bad reputation, the only thing Penguin needed to do was talk to the man, get him to see Oswald as a person, not as an infamous monster. And with a seasoned warrior there's really no better way to find a common ground or at least a place to start. 

"Could you teach me?" 

That earned Oswald a mildly curious once-over between the broad thrusts of the staff. 

"I could." 

Penguin allowed himself a small eye-roll when Deathstroke turned his back to him. 

"Will you?" 

"No." 

The answer was decisive, further emphasized by Deathstroke straightening his posture to release a deep breath. He then returned the staff to its place in the corner and walked out of the gym without paying attention to Penguin. Oswald still stood leaning on the metal bars and pressing his lips in a tight line as he watched the mercenary leisurely walk out of the door like it wasn't a prison gym, but his own practice room. 

Apparently, this will be a bit more complicated than Oswald anticipated. 

—☂—

This was so frustrating. No matter how hard Penguin tried, he couldn't get closer to Deathstroke.  

Slade Wilson's cell is set apart from the rest, it's one of the few impenetrable ones on the underground floor under maximum security with all set precautions against his abilities. Penguin could get access to that cell, but barging in just to talk again wouldn't help him at all. 

Deathstroke doesn't eat with other inmates. Just like Bane, he is denied some of the privileges, including the common dining room, although Oswald doubts that Slade mourns this particular loss. He prefers to dine in his cell alone as well when he doesn't need to observe or socialize with inmates.

Deathstroke is rarely allowed to the gym with the other prisoners. But when he is, he does his workout routine alone, not speaking a word more than he has to. He does go to the showers with others on those occasions, but that would be an absurdly awkward place for attempting to break the ice. 

The only place available to approach Deathstroke is the yard. The High-security has a schedule for the groups of inmates allowed outside at the same time, and the lists regularly change so that it's much more difficult to cooperate and work on an escape plan or unite with fellow groups to start big fights between each other. Thankfully, for Penguin it's not an issue, and a generous bribe placed him in the next group together with Slade Wilson. 

Not that it helped all that much. 

As the days passed, Oswald was no closer to sharing more than a word or two with the mercenary. By the end of the third week, and their fourth time 'coincidentally' getting into the same yard group to no avail, Penguin began seriously considering other options for his mission. He wished he could just hire some brainless muscle to do the work, but what he needed was a somewhat bloody subterfuge, not a full massacre. And that required brain besides the brawn, both of which Deathstroke had in admirable supply. 

However, luck decided to be on his side once again.

Oswald was escorted into the yard a bit later than everyone else. Immediately, he noticed a group of inmates gathered in a half-circle next to the wall, actively discussing something. Even louder than their chatter was another sound: scratchy, shrill, and distressed. There was a long string of the barbed wire stretching from the top of the wall to the object of the inmates' interest. The guards were alert but didn't try to interfere yet, so it must be either unimportant or too entertaining to interrupt. Naturally, Penguin needed to know. 

As he walked closer to the commotion, he snapped his fingers, summoning two of his bodyguards smoking nearby. They rushed to stomp out their cigarettes and push away the gathered inmates, making a path for the Penguin. 

Now he understood what that shrill sound was. Surrounded by the curious inmates, there was a raven desperately flapping one of its wings, with another one stuck under the barbed wire wrapped around its body. Blood mixed with black feathers as the raven trashed on the ground, trying to break free from the wire but getting itself even more stuck on the barbs. The wire went up the wall, the raven must have snagged on it during the flight and fell into the yard. A few other ravens were flying in circles and cawing high above. 

"Let's kill it?" somebody in the crowd asked. 

"Why? It'll kill itself soon anyhow," another one replied. 

"'s too fucking loud," the third one said.

"Yea. Get som'thing heavy," the fourth grunted.

"I got a stone."

"You'll fucking miss, moron. 's jerking too much." 

"Then take it and do the fuckin' job!" 

"I'm not touching that thing. I love my eyes, d'you see it's beak?" 

There was a small squabble about who would kill the raven and how. 

Oswald looked at the bird. It will certainly die if it's left like that, the barbs slip deeper with the raven's every jerky attempt to get out. But, for now, there seems to be a solid chance it might live: there's not too much blood loss, and the wings aren't broken, apparently. 

"Move aside," Oswald shoved the bulky inmate, who began to carefully approach the raven, holding a stone in his raised hand. 

"Da fuck, Penguin?" the man grunted, getting in his way again. "You wanna be first bird I smash with stone today?" he snorted at his own 'joke', a few of the inmates around them barked a laugh too, if a little uneasily. 

Penguin scowled and stepped close to the man, looking up into his eyes with all the disdain he felt. Their considerable height difference meant nothing, the man could as well be a bug before Penguin’s feet, and it was clear to everyone in the instant shift of the air between the two. All laughter and chatter around them halted, only the raven still screeched in pain. 

"I dare you to try, Francis Kelly," Oswald sneered, punctuating the name and leaning uncomfortably close to the inmate. 

He relished how the huge man flinched and swallowed nervously at the sound of his name spilling from Penguin’s lips even though they weren't previously acquainted. After the spread of generously exaggerated rumors about how exactly Penguin deals with the ones who cross him, this was a usual reaction from the common criminals, who almost always had someone to lose. All traces of the smirk were wiped clean from Francis' face by the threat in the kingpin's eyes. 

"A wise decision," Oswald grinned mirthlessly when the man took a step back, freeing the way to the thrashing and hoarsely cawing bird. 

"Your shirt," Penguin demanded, extending a hand to one of his henchmen. After a few seconds of shuffling, the cloth was put on his palm. 

Oswald stepped closer to the bird, who began thrashing even more wildly at the sight of an approaching human. Oswald acted quickly before the barbed wire did irreparable damage. He spread the shirt and covered the raven, kneeling before it to get better access. Using the shirt, he took a hold of the bird's upper body with one hand, careful to not press the wire deeper and to not strangle the raven. With his other hand, Oswald grasped the wire and began to gingerly extract one bloodied barb after another, inch by inch freeing the bird's form. The task became harder when the raven's second wing was freed, but the shirt obscured the creature's vision and helped to prevent it from flapping too carelessly. 

After a few minutes, Oswald let go of the barbed wire completely disentangled from the raven's body now. The bird somewhat stilled under the shirt, and he coaxed its wings to press flat to the body before wrapping it into the cloth and standing up with a shivering and weakly cawing creature inside the folds. 

He glanced around the circle of inmates, catching more than a few glares speaking of their largely increased contempt. Like a pack of wolves, sizing up someone who could now become their prey, the small crowd seemed to tighten the circle around Penguin. The one still holding the stone grimaced in disdain, probably considering using his 'weapon' after all. Nothing surprising, really. Saving a life is much more bizarre than taking it for these people. 

Not bothered by their hostility, Oswald stepped away from the wall, the circle of criminals hesitantly opening before him. He proceeded to a table, flanked by his two henchmen. As Penguin sat down on the bench, he noticed one of them cast a mournful glance at the definitely ruined shirt sheltering the raven. If not the blood, then the bird's small but sharp talons and sturdy beak have certainly turned the item into useless rags. Penguin sent the man to get a new shirt and ordered the second one to tell the desk sergeant that Oswald Cobblepot will require a first aid kit inside his cell right after the yard break ends. The officer on duty today knew better than to defy the Penguin, especially when he wasn't asking for too much. 

The gathering of the inmates chattered with audible disbelief for a while, but soon everyone returned to their usual activities. 

Holding the bundle with one hand, Oswald carefully opened one fold after another until the long black beak appeared. It gave a weak caw and waved as if trying to get out of the cloth. Oswald moved the folds down, freeing the bird's head; it tilted so that one wary pearly eye was fixed on his face. Seeing no struggle from the raven, he risked unfolding the shirt more to access the damage. 

The wounds weren't too deep, barely bleeding. Apparently, the wing got hurt when the bird fell but was saved from breaking by the wire that had slowed the drop. It's going to take some time for the wounds to heal and new feathers to grow, but the bird will recover nicely. 

"Ow, you rascal," Oswald hissed under his breath when his prodding at the damaged wing earned his fingers a painful nip by the impressive beak. The raven tilted its head to the other side, looking at him as if daring to try anything else but made no attempts to break free from its cradle. Penguin huffed and flicked his hand in the air rapidly, trying to chase the ache from the bite away. It looks like it's going to be a painful experience for them both when he treats the raven's wounds in his cell later. 

"You have the courage, I'll give you that," a voice distracted Oswald from wrapping the shirt around the bird's body once again. 

He glanced up at Slade Wilson sitting with a book on the other end of his bench. 

"Please," Oswald rolled his eyes. "Handling a wounded bird is hardly dangerous, I know what I'm doing." 

"I'm not talking about the bird, I mean them." 

Oswald followed his gaze to a group of four inmates, including Francis Kelly, who was holding a stone a few minutes ago. They were casting displeased glances in his direction while talking in hushed voices. 

"I'm not worried about a bunch of simple-minded oafs," he shrugged. 

Penguin knew he had nothing to fear from them. They're just lowlifes with high enough body count that led them here. There won't be any convoluted plans against him on their end. And they're much too afraid to do anything openly. 

"Perhaps you should," Slade switched his gaze to another group, where two men shook hands. The metal of the transferred shiv glinted under the cloudy skies for a passing moment before being hidden in another sleeve. "People here smell blood in the air and go for the throat. And kindness, even to an animal, looks like weakness." 

"Kindness?" Oswald snorted. "No, my friend, mercy killing would've been much kinder. There's nothing kind in survival. I'm sure you, of all people, know that." 

Deathstroke didn't argue, but squinted his one eye at Penguin, probably wondering how much of his life wasn't a secret. 

"Then why did you save the bird?" he asked after a minute. 

Oswald hummed thoughtfully. Why, indeed? He hadn't analyzed it, just acted on impulse. He opted for honesty. "I don't know. I saw it has a solid chance of surviving with bones intact and wounds not too deep." 

"And you chose to save a life instead of ending it out of convenience," Slade muttered under his breath, more to himself than Oswald. 

Oswald didn't have time to properly assess the situation and maybe get something out of it. The next second, a loud buzz informed everyone of the yard break ending for this group. Oswald stood up, careful not to jostle the bird in his arms too much. 

As Penguin almost reached his two bodyguards waiting among the other inmates being escorted out of the yard, Deathstroke muttered behind him, "Gym. Ten pm. Don't be late." 

Before Oswald could respond, the mercenary walked past him to join the line of prisoners. 

Penguin was torn between frustration and relief. If he had known that saving someone's life would earn him a chance to win over such an invaluable associate as Deathstroke, he would've staged something weeks ago. Well, what's done is done, he'll see where it goes from here. Whatever happens, learning a few fighting moves can't hurt. 

—☂—

"Try to strike me." 

Oswald huffed, suspecting how it would end, but obliged and took a swing at his new 'mentor's' face with full force. The first rule of their arrangement was following Deathstroke's commands exactly while training. 

The mercenary blocked the attack, redirecting Penguin’s fist to the side. Oswald expected the answering punch, but instead, found himself plummeting on the mat, breath leaving his lungs with a huff. It wasn't very painful, more disorienting. Then he saw that Slade softened his fall by still holding onto his elbow and knee. Otherwise, he would've probably landed on his damaged leg, and that's always very painful. The next moment, Penguin was let go to scramble back to his feet. 

"The first thing you'll learn is how to fall," Slade said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"I thought you were going to teach me how to make others fall," Oswald grumbled. "I can fall by myself just fine." 

In one smooth motion, Deathstroke sidestepped him and, without untangling his crossed arms, hooked one foot around Oswald's good ankle and yanked it back. Penguin lost balance and dived on the mat face-first, embarrassed of his startled squawk at the impact. He probably would've broken his jaw if they stood on concrete. 

"Clearly, you can't. Otherwise you would have reacted and met the ground with your arm instead of your face." 

There was no mocking in his voice, but Penguin still felt rage rising in him. He pushed himself from the floor and glared at the white-haired mercenary. 

"If you brought me here just to assert yourself at my expense, I'll have-" 

His half-growled threat was interrupted by Slade snorting a short chuckle. 

"Assert myself?" he scoffed. "I brought you here as a favor. And I'll be expecting you to return it when called upon. Now, do you have any more complaints about my methods or will you actually listen?" 

Penguin fumed and glared but stayed silent. This was his idea, after all. 

"Good, you're already learning," Deathstroke said and thankfully didn't comment on Oswald's eye roll. "In Judo, you need to be flexible, comfortable in your body. If your opponent drops you to the ground, you will make sure to take them with you and make them stay down. But for that, you must know and feel balance. How to maintain yours and break your opponent's." 

Oswald couldn't help a small wince when Slade mentioned being comfortable in his body. Oswald was anything but comfortable with his physical form. His permanently damaged leg, practically blind without the monocle eye, and to top all that, he gained weight, which was still bothering him despite Edward's sincere reassurances. Penguin wasn't ashamed of it per se, but rather the long-forgotten taunts from schoolyard bullies have resurfaced against his will and made him feel self-conscious about those few extra pounds again.

Unfortunately, his expression didn't go unnoticed. 

"You have doubts about your body's ability to become a powerful weapon," Slade observed. It wasn't a question, and Oswald didn't have to confirm it. "You'll learn to use everything you have to your advantage. Every weakness can be overcome or even turned into a strength, you and I both know that," Deathstroke said, and Oswald couldn’t stop a glance at the mercenary's black eyepatch. "Your body, with all its powers and flaws, is a structure, and we'll start with that." 

So they did. Penguin learned about how to study his opponent by the way they position and structure their body in a fight. How to infiltrate that structure and break the balance with slight pressure on critical points, how to predict the enemy's next moves, and control the flow of battle. Deathstroke was a man of action, so he showed everything along with explaining. 

Aside from the fighting techniques, Oswald learned about the philosophy of Judo through Slade's stories of Japanese masters who defeated opponents twice their size by using the attacker's strength against them. Penguin understood why Deathstroke picked this martial art for him. When he threw aside his doubts and skepticism, Oswald welcomed it naturally, almost on some primal level. Even the fighting strategy itself was a lot like Penguin’s criminal one: study your enemy, find a weakness in their structure, make them lose balance, and twist them into submission when they're on the ground. Use your enemy's strength, size, and momentum against them when they least expect it until you're the one on top. Its inclination to the reactive behavior during combat was also what Oswald preferred. Most of the time, he doesn't need to initiate an open fight by himself, but being able to answer it when his bodyguards are unavailable might be life-saving. 

At least, that's what Oswald told himself every time he plummeted to the floor, which happened a lot. During the first month or two, it was basically all he did while listening to Deathstroke's tales and explanations why he fell, how he could've fallen better, and how he should've avoided falling in the first place. Penguin was thankful for whatever muscle carcass he had managed to develop in the gym because falling without its protection would've been even worse. His bad leg hurt constantly even though Slade was considerate enough to not target it intentionally. It was also helpful to have a prison Warden on the payroll, who sanctioned a leg brace for Penguin. 

After almost three months, the raven that Oswald had saved flew away. Its wounds were mostly healed, and new feathers began to grow. Oswald never gave it a name, he knew that an adult bird would hardly become a companion to a human. Still, it was nice to take care of the creature, it reminded him of his childhood when he cleaned and fed a few pigeons that lived in an aviary not far from his home. Ed joked in the letter that Oswald should make an aviary in his mansion, not realizing that Penguin actually considered it sometimes as a possible future endeavor. He could renovate the greenhouse to fit various kinds, he always did like birds. Besides, there are quite a few dangerous species, he could go as far as weaponizing his vast knowledge of them. 

Gradually, he started noticing that falling became easier, his reactions were quicker and movements more automatic and certain. Penguin was not an equal opponent to Deathstroke by any means, but he did his best, and there was hope for overcoming a moderately trained enemy without superhuman strength and reflexes. It was indeed gratifying to throw this death machine of a man to the ground, even if said man had to constantly hold back on his power and skills. The first time Oswald saw the real potential of this training was when he accidentally twisted Slade's arm up too much and broke it with his knee. He didn't even realize that at first since the mercenary reacted with only a small hiss and a muttered curse. It's good that whatever serum Deathstroke was injected with gave him rapid healing aside from everything else that made him what he was. His arm remained broken only for less than half an hour. 

Still, training with Deathstroke didn't get Penguin too much closer to hiring him. The mercenary was firm in his refusal to influence Gotham's criminal and political stage: he didn't know it well enough to judge, and couldn't just trust Penguin's word on it. But the time spent together did give Oswald a better understanding of the man's principles. Slade Wilson wasn't interested in getting mixed up in the underworld wars of the unfamiliar city, but he would accept a job if the cause was right or if it was personal. Oswald just needed to show him that going against Rupert Thorne was both.

He got a chance to do it a little more than a year after their first training session. 

—☂—

It all happened so fast. 

One moment, Penguin stood smoking a cigarette and discussing deception tactics in war history with Deathstroke in the yard. The next, he was harshly pushed back with a hand on his shoulder and a sharp pain piercing his abdomen. On instinct, he brought a hand to press on the wound left by a shank as he prepared to fight his attackers. 

"Rupert Thorne sends his regards," the man sneered, still holding the bloodied blade. It was Francis Kelly, the same inmate that Oswald had prevented from killing the wounded bird more than a year ago. 

Three other inmates made sure Deathstroke was out of commission. While two of them held onto his arms with all their might, the third one plunged a dart into his neck. After a few seconds, Slade's struggles weakened and limbs went slack. The one who had the dart also withdrew a shank and sunk it into Deathstroke's middle twice. He left the blade inside on the third strike. Not enough to kill him, but to get the message across. 

"You made wrong friends here, mercenary," one of the inmates holding him hissed before they unceremoniously dropped his paralyzed body to slouch on the ground next to the wall. 

"Time to reconsider your involvement in Gotham's business. Stay away," the second one said, giving one kick to his abdomen. 

The dart they used contained a strong paralyzing agent, a lot of the guards on this wing had them in their non-lethal guns. Deathstroke was fully conscious but unable to move a muscle and will stay that way for only about five minutes, given his body's unparalleled resistance. Nevertheless, it's more than enough for the four inmates to get rid of the wounded Penguin. 

Well, three inmates now, since Oswald managed to overpower Francis, who attacked him first. Just as he was trained, Penguin waited for an opening, protected his body, found a flaw in the attacker's balance, and used the momentum of his strike with a shank to break that balance, effectively sending the man to the ground. From there, he had no trouble with twisting his arm further and dislocating his shoulder. The man's hoarse scream ended a few moments later when Oswald knocked him out. 

But that's when the other three joined. Penguin glanced around. His two bodyguards were held firmly by the crowd gathered around the fight, they had no chance of getting closer. Deathstroke could only move his eyes, and the tips of his fingers twitched, which was far more than an ordinary human could've done so soon after being paralyzed. Penguin was bleeding and alone against three inmates, each at least a head taller than him and broader in shoulders. 

Oswald wished he could say that he used his newly gained knowledge and skills to defeat his attackers. But alas, the forces were far from equal, and the trio didn't oppose him one by one, instead circling around him like hungry wolves. Penguin had a shank he took away from Francis, and he left a deep jagged wound in one of the guy's forearm when he tried to grab Oswald by the front of his uniform. Unfortunately, that gave the other two an opening to seizing and eventually dropping Penguin to the ground. He landed almost nicely, but the sudden movement sharpened the stinging in his abdomen wound. It became even worse when a heavy boot drove into his side. 

Oswald tried to shield himself from another kick, but it never came. Only then did he notice the noise and shadows flickering above him. 

"Ow, sonofabich," one of the inmates cursed, flailing his arms over his head. It was the one with the blood from Oswald's blade on his forearm. 

"What tha fuck?!" the other two did the same, forgetting about Penguin. 

Above their scuffle, there were more and more ravens circling and swooping down at Oswald's attackers, pecking them with their long beaks and pulling their clothes and hair with talons. At first, Oswald couldn't understand what's happening, but then he remembered some of the facts he read about corvids as a kid. They're said to be exceptionally intelligent, able to memorize and recognize faces of people who were either kind or cruel to them. And they can be very vindictive.

Penguin heard himself cackling at the trio desperately trying to avoid vicious attacks, cursing and howling as the sturdy beaks nipped on their unprotected skin over and over. Ravens weren't too large and couldn't do any real lasting damage, but they created chaos with their loud cawing, flapping of wings, and black feathers flying around. The birds were quite agile too: every time an inmate tried to take a swing at one, it was already five feet above him. Perhaps Oswald's idle musings about weaponizing some birds weren't just empty fantasies after all.

Finally, the guards interfered. There was only so much and so long they could be bought to ignore. As they rushed into the yard, they shouted orders at other prisoners watching the show to kneel with hands behind their heads. When the path was cleared, the guards swiftly shot a few darts into everyone involved in the fight, including Deathstroke, who was almost on his feet and ready to tear his attackers apart, if the fire burning in his one eye was any indication. 

These weren't paralyzing darts, they were tranquilizers, Oswald understood as he rapidly slipped into unconsciousness to the sight of the black birds flying up and away. 

—☂—

He woke up in the hospital bed. Blessedly alone in the single infirmary cell, since inmates of the High-security get placed separately when the capacity allows. 

Aside from slight nausea after being sedated, Oswald didn't feel much of anything. The tightness around his abdomen told him that his wound has been bandaged. The doc must've given him some strong painkillers, considering the lack of usual headache after the tranq darts. 

Penguin looked at the barred window. The sun was still high. So not more than two hours passed since the altercation in the yard. Apparently, no serious damage was done to him if the additional sedation or operations weren't required. 

"Cobblepot," Deathstroke called from the doorway. He stood upright, as healthy as ever. Probably not even a scar left from the early stabbings. "About your earlier proposal. What's the job?" 

Penguin pulled himself higher on his pillow, wincing at the renewed stinging in his abdomen. 

"You'll do it?" 

"I didn't say that yet. First, I want to know what the job entails. If I'm going against Rupert Thorne anyway now, I might as well make some money out of it." 

"A wise decision, my friend," Oswald smiled. "And not only money, I did promise you an earlier release and clearing of all the records. I'll get us both out of here and-" 

"Wilson, get back to your cell," two guards approached Deathstroke with their weapons at the ready. 

He let them handcuff him, giving a nod to Penguin as a silent agreement to continue this conversation later. 

Oswald breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of water from the glass on the bedside table. The hardest part was behind him, finally. Deathstroke will agree to go with Penguin’s plan against Thorne; it was personal now. And there really is no reason for him to refuse: Oswald won't demand anything too immoral out of him. Highly illegal and cruel — yes, most certainly, but nothing against innocent people, which is essentially the only thing that can halt Deathstroke's determination. 

"Um... Penguin, sir?" a hesitant voice distracted Oswald from fleshing out his next steps upon getting released from the infirmary. 

"Ah, come in," Penguin offered a mirthless smile and watched the same man that stabbed him a few hours earlier cautiously enter the room. His broken arm was in a sling. 

"Are... Are you okay, sir? D-did I do it right?" Francis stammered, stopping a respectful distance from where Penguin sat on his bed. "I tried to do a shallow cut, and you said to not go easy on you so it'd look real, but if-" 

Oswald stopped his tirade by holding up a hand. 

"You did everything right, Francis," he assured. "I assume the birds didn't give your people too much trouble." 

"No-no, it's all fine, good," Francis wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with his good hand. "So.. We're cool? Our families?.." 

"Have absolutely nothing to fear from me, I guarantee it," Oswald nodded. 

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Penguin! Thanks. I'll tell the guys. I.. I'll leave you now," Francis did something similar to a slight bow and hurriedly retreated from the room. 

Penguin looked as the door closed behind the man. He told the truth, the families of those four inmates are safe from him. However, the fate of his hired attackers themselves has been sealed already. The crew was hardly reliable and switched their allegiance far too often to entrust them with the knowledge of this secret set-up for too long. There must remain no chance for Deathstroke to learn that he had been manipulated. His wrath would be quite deadly. 

Oswald almost wanted to laugh: it turned out to be so easy to influence the prideful and stubborn mercenary. Now all he needed to do was 'discover' a note one of Thorne's lieutenants supposedly sent to Francis and another one with the order to eliminate the unfortunate crew inside their solitary cells. After that, Deathstroke's hand of retribution will tie all the loose ends under Penguin's elaborate guidance.

The prison doctor paid Oswald a short visit and, among his usual grumbling, confirmed that the blade avoided all vital organs. Penguin will remain here for a week. 

Perfect timing to finish the last preparations for moving forward with his plan. To successfully break people out of maximum security prison, Penguin will require muscle. A lot of muscle. 

—☂—

"Five minutes," the guard whispered, nervously casting another look around before opening the massive metal door just wide enough to let Oswald slip inside. 

"Penguin. You're not as smart as I've been told if you came here all alone." 

Oswald rolled his eyes. For a man barely breathing through his half-mask, Bane was acting far more threateningly than he looked. That's not to say he couldn't still break Penguin’s neck in half, but the man did seem like getting up from his sitting position on the bed would be too much trouble anyway. 

"A pleasure to see you again, Bane. We haven't had many chances to meet one on one here, so I've decided it's about time to rectify that," Oswald leisurely walked to the metal chair across the room from the man. 

To be fair, Penguin paid to not only get sorted into the same yard group with Deathstroke. He also spent a fair amount of money to stay as far away from Bane as possible until now. 

"Last time we had a confrontation, you caught my grenade. How do you think this one will end for you?" 

"Oh please," Penguin scoffed, lowering himself on the chair, still careful with his cut. Even not deep, it tends to sting at sudden movements. "Let's skip idle threats and proceed to why I'm here, shall we? I'd like to propose an alliance." 

Bane released a muffled sound through his mask, it was similar to a snorted short laugh. "An alliance with you? After you sided with Jim Gordon to oppose me?" 

"I'd side with pretty much anyone to protect my city from destruction," Oswald shrugged, not hiding the threat in his glare. 

"Much good it did you. You saved this city with Gordon, and in thanks, he locked you in a cage," Bane said. Oswald was sure he would've seen a smirk if the mask didn't cover the lower half of the man's face. 

"Precisely why I want to get out of here, which brings us back to the reason for my visit." 

Bane scoffed. "I will get out on my own terms, in my own time. I don't need your assistance to escape this joke of a prison, it's far from the worst I've seen."

"It's been what, more than six and a half years since your imprisonment? I wonder, how much longer will 'your own time' take?" 

Penguin knew it was dangerous to taunt this kind of person, but he couldn't show weakness now. Predictably, Bane growled, jumping up from his seat. He made a couple of stumbling steps forward, visibly tired even from this small action. Whatever Strange did to him, Bane seems weak without his chemicals in his system. There was no contraption with the tubes on his chest anymore. Riddler once said that he supposed it was the way Bane was receiving the stable injection of whatever substance kept him going when he had almost destroyed Gotham. 

"No need to take offense, friend," Oswald smiled, standing up too. He approached the man, pulling out a folded envelope from his chest pocket. "I'm merely asking due to the new information that might influence your timings." 

A knock on the door signaled that half of Penguin’s time here has passed. 

He gave Bane the envelope. The man frowned and opened it, mistrust and annoyance clear in the line of his brows and his dark eyes. Oswald watched how that expression changed into surprise and disbelief. 

"How? Where did you get this?" 

"Hm, let's just say that even a flightless bird can reach far beyond these iron bars," Penguin shrugged and took the papers back from Bane's hands. 

Besides the envelope, there were two blurred pictures taken from a long distance, but the features of the woman were unmistakable. Nyssa al Ghul. Alive and talking to someone behind the counter in a crowded market. 

These pictures cost Oswald a lot, but were worth it in the long run. He knew Nyssa was alive long ago. When Ed investigated what debris of the sub the divers had salvaged, he concluded that she must have escaped from the sub shortly after taking off, perhaps due to her injuries or inexperience in piloting a submarine. From the explosion markings, Ed discovered that the sub was fully flooded even before it stumbled upon a mine, and its hatch was opened wide. There was no autopilot option, but the sub could continue its straight course without human operating. After leaving it, Nyssa must've swum to the shore and hidden somewhere in Gotham until she could escape unnoticed. 

Bane stood still, probably pondering if he could trust Penguin. Rightfully so: Oswald did have a thought about forging a letter 'from Nyssa', but decided against risking it and failing to mention some code the two might have established.

The guard outside knocked on the door twice. One minute left. 

"I'll ask again. How soon do you plan to get out on your own?" Penguin reminded, pocketing the papers. 

"What do you propose?" 

"I don't pretend to understand what Strange did to you, but I do have my ways around this place, as I'm sure you've noticed," Oswald said, eyeing the reinforced cell walls around them. "I can help you get the strength needed to break free." 

"In exchange for?.." 

"In exchange, you will leave Gotham and completely forfeit your plans for its destruction. You will also relay the same message to Nyssa al Ghul. If you, she, or anyone else under your command try to lay waste to my city ever again, I will make you wish you'd stayed to rot here." 

Bane chuckled, muffled by his mask. "Very well, I'll be waiting." 

He didn't specify what exactly he'll be waiting for: Penguin's help or the follow through with the threat. Either way, the door cracked open once again, and, after a small nod, Oswald slipped through it. 

—☂—

Procuring the serum for Bane proved to be a simple enough task. All Penguin had to do was facilitate Professor Strange's escape from his special holding cell not far from Blackgate Penitentiary. 

It required a big deal of bribing, but in the end, Strange was dumped with the rest of the garbage and walked free. On the outside, it looked like a terribly unfortunate mistake, for which the guard on duty paid with his job. Not that he's troubled by it, after being more than generously compensated for all his troubles. 

Oswald didn't meet Strange in person, thankfully, since his restraint in not killing that worm did have limits. Someday, Professor will outlive his usefulness, and Penguin will be the first in line to repay him for everything he has done. To him, to his beloved Edward, and to his city. But for now, he needed Strange. 

Two weeks later, Oswald's lawyer, or rather his very highly esteemed legal assistant now, brought him a box of documents from the Iceberg Lounge, as per usual quarterly revision of the accounts. Predictably, the guards on the checkup didn't dig through it as thoroughly as they used to years ago, thus failing to notice a small parcel hidden among the papers. When Oswald opened it in his cell later, he found a syringe and four sealed vials full of murky pale-green liquid. 

Along with it, there was a note: 'Intramuscular injection. Recommended not more than one dose at a time. Fair warning: the subject may experience a severe decrease in cognitive functions if the dosage is exceeded. Pleasure doing business with you. Professor.' 

Penguin huffed, ripped the note into small pieces and flushed them down his toilet. Bane didn't need this information to cloud his resolve. 

—☂—

After Oswald made sure that everything and everyone was ready, he once again made his way down to the maximum-security holding cells. This time, he wasn't escorted by a guard, and surveillance cameras were 'malfunctioning'. He opened Bane's cell door, the man already stood waiting. 

"Intramuscular injection," Penguin gave him the already filled syringe and the rest three vials of the serum. "Remember, all I need from you is to get me into the control room. After that, you can do what you want, just don't stand in my way." 

Without hesitation, Bane stuck the needle into the middle of his thigh and rapidly injected every last drop from the syringe. One by one, he emptied the other three vials, not even flinching as the murky liquid entered his system.

For a short time after Bane withdrew the needle, nothing happened. He threw the empty syringe to the side and froze in place, waiting. 

The first sign was his heavy shaky exhale. Bane clenched his eyes shut for a couple of seconds, and when they opened, the whites were bloodshot with veins bursting open. Delirious rage was rapidly overwriting all the reason and sanity that were there before. He grunted and balled his fists, every limb became stiff and taut as a bowstring. 

Then his muscles began to grow. 

Oswald didn't notice that at first. But then he saw how the uniform became too tight for the muscular ex-soldier, and still, his frame continued to enlarge. Bane growled, the muffled animalistic sound from behind the mask. He grasped the back of the chair nailed to the floor, the metal screeched and sank under his fingers like butter. With a roar, Bane yanked the chair, ripping it with the screws, and threw it into the wall. Oswald barely held back from cowering. He did step away from the door when the giant of a man took a shaky step toward it, seemingly half-blind from the blood in his eyes obscuring his vision. Bane was easily two or even three heads taller than Penguin now, his clothes burst at the seams from the pressure of the expanding muscles.

Still snarling, Bane stumbled towards the door and kicked it open as effortlessly as if it was made of cardboard and not reinforced thick iron. His roar echoed down the hallway as he lumbered past the other maximum-security cells. They were all closed and could only be opened from inside the control room or with individual keys, procuring which was unsurprisingly troublesome. Oswald followed Bane and stopped by the Deathstroke's cell. 

"I take it, you've received my gift," he said after opening the barred window of the heavy iron door and saw Deathstroke dressed in his trademark armor, save for the mask. 

Mostly black with a few bronze accents, the legendary outfit looked both practical and menacing. Slade just finished fastening the belt crossing over his chest; ammo clips, grenades, and throwing knives were attached to it. A sword was secured behind the mercenary's back, the weapon's handle was sticking from behind his shoulder. 

"What the fuck have you done?" Deathstroke snapped, charging towards the door and looking out through the small window. 

"Only what I had to. You didn't expect me to teleport us out of here, did you?" 

They both watched Bane, who had reached the end of the hall and picked up a guard by the throat when the guy tried to use his taser gun on him. The guard was not one of Penguin’s: they all knew better than to stay in the way. After observing the man struggle for a few seconds, Bane snapped his neck like a twig with one hand and released the still convulsing body to collapse on the floor. The door leading out of the hallway was closed, but Bane kicked it open and charged onto a few more guards hurriedly readying their weapon.

"You were supposed to get the key to my cell. I could take us out of here without this pointless bloodbath." 

"Please, don't tell me you thought it possible to make an omelet without breaking some eggs," Penguin scoffed. "As confident as I am in your abilities, I've decided it's better to be safe than sorry."

"That's not what we've planned," Slade slammed his palm on the bars of the door window, fire burning in his one eye not covered by the eyepatch. 

"Plans change," Oswald shrugged. "It's better this way, trust me, my friend."

Deathstroke scoffed at those words but remained silent. The hallway behind Oswald was now silent too: Bane must've gone on. 

"Anyway, meet me in the control room. We'll make our escape from there." 

Penguin didn't wait for the answer and rushed after the freed beast. With his faculties not all intact, Bane might need some guidance. Oswald stepped over three corpses in guard uniforms, careful to not slip on all the blood still flowing from the limb sockets and a neck without its head attached anymore. He picked up a couple of taser guns and tranq darts, just in case. These guards were on patrol and didn't know of the breakout, hence didn't carry real firearms lest the inmates steal it somehow. 

Oswald followed the trail of blood and occasional disfigured bodies. Soon he heard a garbled scream mixed with a roar, and on the next turn, he caught up with his temporary ally crushing a guard's head together with the helmet with his bare huge hands. Behind him, another guard groaned with only one leg left, another one ripped off at the knee. Visibly trying to stay conscious, he tried to pull himself up and reach the alarm button. Penguin shot one of the tasers, and the man dropped on the floor, his unconscious body gave a few more convulsions before stilling. 

Thankfully, Bane seemed to be coherent enough to recognize Penguin as his ally. He grunted and lumbered forward. On the next juncture, he almost took the wrong turn but obeyed Oswald's guidance, and soon the two criminals reached the control room. As they approached the door, the alarm blared through the prison halls. Apparently, the cameras were finally fixed, and the guards inside saw the massacre on the monitors. 

"Hey, open this," Penguin pointed at the power panel protected by a metal shield on the wall. Bane stopped his unsuccessful banging and kicking on the door and ripped the shield off, baring dozens of cords and wires. 

Oswald wished his brilliant fiancé was here to solve all the technical issues. Alas, he had to rely on luck as he fired a shot from his second taser gun right in the middle of the sockets. 

The lights flickered and then went off. 

"Open the door now, quickly," Penguin barked the order to Bane, who has already resumed his banging on the heavy door. The brute snarled, but obeyed, tearing it open to the horror of the two guards inside. 

The next second, lights switched back on, but it was too late. Bane's hand crushed one guard's windpipe before he could even reach his gun. Another man on duty was sent flying, his skull met the concrete wall with an audible crack.

"Well done, now go ahead and have some fun," Oswald said as he lowered himself on the chair before the control panel and monitors. Bane grumbled something unintelligible and walked out. Just in time too, because the guards began advancing through the halls, summoned by the still blaring alarm. Oswald didn't bother turning it off. Instead, he pulled all the small levers and opened every cell in the main cell block of this wing. Next, he released Deathstroke and sat back, watching the mayhem on the monitors. 

Eight minutes and two small run-ins with the guards later, Slade Wilson entered the control room. 

"We had agreed to leave quietly, but now you're organizing a full-blown prison riot?" the mercenary fumed, his voice slightly muffled by the full mask covering his face. One half of it was pitch black without a hole for his missing eye, the other was bronze. 

"Oh, stop your grumbling already," Penguin rolled his eyes, getting up from the chair. "We're leaving, that's what matters." 

"I'm leaving," Deathstroke stopped Oswald with a hand on his shoulder. "You'll stay and deal with the mess you've made." 

Regrettably, Penguin did not account for this turn of events. He was hoping to break out and see how the other players on the underworld scene would react to his return. Would they see him as big a threat as Rupert Thorne already has? Would they even unite against him? Or would they see him as a fallen king, powerless to reclaim his crown? He planned to find out, he needed to do it before he could wrap up his work inside the Blackgate. 

"Are you out of your mind?!" Oswald seethed, facing the mercenary. "It's not a good time to get all righteous on me, the whole police force will be here soon." 

"Yes. That's why I must be going. Don't worry, our agreement regarding Thorne still stands. Do you want me to knock you out or just seal the door?" 

"That wasn't the plan," Penguin said, subtly reaching for a tranq dart he pocketed in the hall. 

Will he really have to carry the man out of prison? Perhaps he could find some muscle to do it for him, but that wouldn't be an easy task in all the chaos out there. 

"Plans change," Deathstroke echoed Oswald's earlier words and effortlessly twisted the kingpin's hand with a dart behind his back before Penguin could react. "Last lesson: don't ever try to go behind my back again. Remember that, when you fulfill your end of our bargain," he muttered close to Penguin’s ear. 

The next second, Oswald felt a sudden blunt pressure to the back of his head. As his body sagged to the floor he realized that it was the hilt of Deathstroke's sword that hit him. He felt blood slowly trickling through his hair as his vision darkened and the sounds of chaos outside the room faded into nothing. 

—☂—

"Another day — another concussion, huh?" the familiar hoarse voice of the prison doctor greeted Oswald as his eyes fluttered open to the flickering light of the infirmary. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're still here." 

Oswald groaned as his head was assaulted by the heavy throbbing pain, a familiar feeling, unfortunately. Thankfully, it was distant and numb enough, which meant that painkillers have already kicked in.  

So Deathstroke did lash out for going around him and not taking into account his principles of minimizing innocent deaths. Not to say that Penguin was too crestfallen over this, more annoyed that he won't get that personal checkup of the underworld right now. Oh well, it's not like he planned to stay on the outside for too long.

In a couple of weeks, he'll have more than enough work in here with all the new recruits Deathstroke's work will bring. Assuming of course he'll go through with Penguin’s plan against Rupert Thorne, but Oswald didn't worry about it too much. Slade Wilson was a man of his word after all, and he had no reason to change that plan. 

"Leave us, doc," another voice sounded from the doorway. 

Oh, great.  

Jim Gordon stormed through the cramped room and stopped at the foot of Penguin’s bed, looking down at him with poorly concealed wrath in his blue eyes. Oswald sat up in his bed as much as he could; pretense or not, he loathed to show that much weakness, especially to this man. The doctor left the cell, muttering something about no respect for the specialists under his breath. 

"Are you out of your mind, Penguin?! What the hell have you done?!" the Commissioner finally snapped when the door was shut. 

"Is that a rhetorical question or do you actually want me to answer?" Penguin snorted, even in this state taking pleasure in Jim Gordon's suffering. He'll make sure he's not the only one with a headache today. 

"A prison riot, seriously?" Jim, predictably, didn't find any humor in the situation. 

"Well, you didn't honestly expect me to just stay put inside this cage you threw me in, did you?" 

"From the looks of things, it seems you will be staying right here after all," the cop said with venom, his anger apparently making him petty. 

Oh, how tempting it was to spit in Gordon's self-righteous face just how powerful Oswald has already become right under his nose. Gloat and tell him that both prison riots went exactly according to the Penguin’s plan, aside from Deathstroke's little sabotage. Oswald clenched his fist, digging short nails into the palm, then exhaled through his nose and offered a mirthless grin. 

"A minor setback, nothing more," he said. "And as long as it causes some serious problems for you, I'm fine with it." 

Gordon's nostrils flared, and jaw tensed. "I can understand your hatred for me, but releasing Bane?! We worked together to stop him six years ago, and now you've made it all for nothing!" 

"Oh, so you do remember that? I had my doubts, seeing how you locked me up without a second thought not a year later," Oswald snarled, almost wincing when his raised voice echoed with a dull pain behind his eyes. It was so Jim: recognizing something only when it suited him. His hypocrisy and selective memory were honestly getting on Penguin's nerves, and there was no need to fake his rage.

"I did everything I could to make life easier for you here, Oswald. But after today, I don't think your sentence will stay limited to fifteen years," Gordon said, flashing his eyes. 

"You'll have to find evidence of my involvement first, Commissioner. I doubt there is any, I didn't even escape after all. For all you know, I could've been trying to stop Bane and others and fallen their victim."

When he was waiting for Deathstroke inside the control room, Oswald made sure that nothing could hard prove his involvement in organizing the riot. 

"Your words are statement enough," the cop insisted stubbornly, despite knowing how wrong he was. 

Penguin only huffed. "I'm pretty sure this statement was given under duress, Jim. I mean, look at me, I'm under painkillers after a blunt force trauma to the head and have a diagnosed concussion. I don't even know what I'm saying, I might as well be insane right now," he snorted at the Commissioner fuming over his bed. "You'll have to get my lawyer if you wish to repeat this conversation on the record."

Jim's involuntary flinch at the mention of Penguin’s lawyer didn't go unnoticed. Ms. Diaz has earned herself quite a reputation during the years. Half of Oswald's legal issues got resolved simply because people didn't want to deal with that woman and her own subordinates. Even Harvey Dent seemingly tried to avoid going against her in the courtroom more than he absolutely had to. 

"This isn't over, Oswald," Jim growled as the last attempt to keep the upper hand. 

"Of course it's not. You need to catch all those escapees now, including Bane and the infamous Deathstroke entrusted under your care by another state, from what I heard," Oswald chuckled. "They both escaped, didn't they?" 

Jim's tense silence was the answer in and of itself. Excellent. Gordon pressed his lips in a thin line and clenched his fists, but ultimately he was powerless to do anything right now. He turned back to leave. 

"Oh, and Jim? I don't think that mustache works for you," Oswald called after him. "It's a crime against style, and, frankly, makes you look old." 

The door was slammed shut, and finally, Oswald could lie back and close his eyes. His bad one began to hurt from the fluorescent lamps flickering above, the lens dimming the lights must've gotten lost during all the action. No matter, soon Oswald will return to the comfort of his own cell and find out exactly how big of a success this breakout turned out to be. He'll also need to celebrate it with his dear Edward, as he promised a few months ago. 

For now, he needed to rest and gather all the strength to deal with the fallout. So many new alliances to forge, so much work to do after Deathstroke fulfills his end of the bargain and gives a hard shake to Rupert Thorne's little empire. It's been a while since Oswald got directly involved with Gotham's politics, it's high time to rectify that with Aubery James as his new puppet on the throne. 

Chapter Text

"What's taking him so long?" Oswald grumbled as he paced back and forth in front of the moss-covered wooden door serving as the exit from the secret passage at the base of Arkham Island. "He should've been out almost an hour ago."

"No worries, Mr. Penguin."

"He'll be here."

He scoffed and shot a glance at Diedre Vance and Nina Damfino before resuming his pacing. Oswald had a perfectly fine night's rest before these two furies woke him up and dragged him here. They claimed that Ed sent them a message about getting out one day sooner than expected, asking all three of them to meet him here. Why didn't Edward tell that to him then? Penguin muttered curses under his breath.

"Damn it's chilly here though," the blonde complained, rubbing her upper arms. 

Both women wore only tattered jeans, knee-high leather boots, and black t-shirts: one with green alien faces all over it and the other with a big white skull print on the front. Aside from that, the blonde had studded wristbands and a black leather police cap, and the brunette wore a sharp-looking golden bracelet and a black studded choker. Both had handguns tucked behind their belts. Thankfully, they restrained from wearing those hideous outfits they donned while working with the Riddler, but still, they were seriously underdressed for this weather. Oswald couldn't relate, warm enough in his three-piece suit and long fur-trimmed coat.

"Dude, we've just climbed down from Silverton Mountain, it's like summer beach here," the brunette answered.

"Well, I don't see any skiing options in this dump to get the blood running," Diedre snorted.

"Then go grab a blanket from the boat. And don't forget hot cocoa," Nina cooed mockingly, lighting another cigarette. 

"Sure, if you have some marshmallows to-"

"Would you two be quiet?" Penguin snapped, glaring at them. "You'll attract all Arkham guards here with all that blathering."

The girls looked at him, at each other, then at the steep slopes with wild grass and unruly bushes surrounding them from all sides except the shore where their boat waited.

"Naaah," Query decided, not even bothering to lower her voice.

"We're fiiine," Echo nodded.

Penguin groaned and rolled his eyes. No wonder the duo got along with Riddler so well, they were all equally insufferable! 

Edward's two allies continued their careless chatter while Oswald shut his eyes and willed himself to distance from it all. He had only met Query and Echo once before this, Ed briefly introduced them before leaving for a heist last year. Oswald still didn't know what to feel about these two gorgeous amazons who had a habit of huddling too close to his fiancé. Well, at least they kept him safe during his reckless escapades, and for that alone Oswald was ready to cut them some slack. For now. 

His thoughts and girls' playful bickering came to a halt when the old wooden door creaked open. Finally!

Riddler's melodic humming of some epic melody reached them earlier than his tall frame in striped uniform fully appeared from the thick shadows behind the half-rotten door. Ed turned off his flashlight and stepped out to the dim illumination by the city lights across the river. 

"Live long and prosper, my friends," he raised a hand with the palm forward and fingers parted between the middle and the ring one. Out the corner of his eye, Oswald noticed the two henchwomen doing the same in response. 

"Not a good time for your video game references, Edward," Penguin rolled his eyes, not phased by his lover's amused giggling. "What took you so long? I don't appreciate being dragged here in the middle of-"

He stopped mid-sentence because of another tall figure stepping out the door behind Edward. The outline of his bald head was impossible to mistake.

"Ed, move!" Penguin swiftly drew his gun, flicked the safety off, and trained it on the smirking Zsasz who still stood too close to Riddler for a safe shot. 

"Don't shoot!" Ed raised his hands and concealed the assassin's body with his own even more. "I told you to wait inside. I promised you'd meet the Penguin, not survive the encounter," he hissed behind his shoulder.

"It was too nasty there. Did you see that giant centipede?" Zsasz didn't seem to care about Penguin trying to aim at him at all.

"Edward, step away, now," Oswald demanded and, after that didn't help, took a step to the side himself in hope to get a clear shot.

"Sorry, Mr. Penguin," he heard Diedre's voice behind him right before a pair of strong arms restrained him and forced his gun down.

"It's alright, Mr. Penguin," Nina took his gun away, and another pair of arms joined the first to help against wildly struggling Oswald.

"What is the meaning of this?! Release me this instant!" he shrieked. When it didn't help, he tried another way. "Ed, tell them to get off me!"

"They will, I promise," Riddler approached with an apologetic smile. "But we needed you to not kill anybody before you heard Zsasz out."

"I'm not talking to that traitor!" Penguin spat and thrashed even harder, but it was like fighting against a live statue with four arms. When he managed to free himself from one grasping limb, another immediately took its place. They twisted his arms behind his back, not painfully, but firmly.

"Duuude, don't tell me you're still hung about all that Sofia deal," Zsasz came closer too, and oh how Penguin wished he had his hands free to beat that crooked smirk from his bald face. "It's been what, six, seven years? You can't hold a grudge forever, not cool."

"I'll let it go when you stop breathing!" Penguin snarled and leaned closer to the assassin, as much as his live restraints allowed. They shifted so that he wouldn't hurt himself, but stayed unrelenting. "Heard you were brain-dead and then rabid after you stopped being Ivy's puppet. Did your mistress take you back under her thumb now?"

Zsasz winced ever so slightly. "I got better," he answered after a long look. "And Nygma owed me a favor so I thought, hey, why not get out and work with you for a while. It'll be like good old days, right, boss?" he winked.

"I am not your boss!" Penguin spat. "Not after what you did!" 

The assassin rolled his eyes. 

"Let go of me already!" Oswald growled at the two women still keeping him in their iron hold.

Ed gave his associates a slight nod, and the next second Penguin was released. He huffed, fixed his rumpled clothes, and straightened his back to restore his image and dignity. 

"Look, Penguin, let's call it even maybe?" Zsasz raised his hairless eyebrow at him. "I put you in Arkham, you almost chopped off my head, then I was in Arkham and now here we are. So, even-steven?" 

"Who cares about Arkham?!" Oswald groaned in exasperation. "You betrayed my trust! You put Martin in danger!"

"Huh?" Zsasz tilted his head. "The kid? Seriously?" he shook his head in disbelief. "He was never in any real danger," he assured. "Your boy was a bargaining chip, not a lamb for the slaughter."

"Oh, please," Penguin spat and approached the assassin, piercing him with his glare, and hating how their height difference made him look up. "And you would've stopped Sofia from hurting him, then? Did you stop Martin from being scared?"

"Scared?" he raised his eyebrows. "Are we talking about the same kid? My guys were more scared than him."

Oswald scoffed angrily. He couldn't disprove those words, Martin seemed relieved and happy when they reunited, but not traumatized. His ten-year-old boy was truly brave back then, like always.

"So, let bygones be bygones?" Zsasz suggested again.

"My gun," Penguin demanded, not taking his eyes from the dark ones piercing him expectantly. Immediately, the weapon's cool handle was placed into his outstretched hand from behind him. 

After a long minute of silent consideration and fight of stares, Oswald switched the safety of his gun back on and returned it into his coat's pocket, their eyes still locked on each other. 

"You owe me, Zsasz," he insisted.

"Whoopee-do," the assassin shrugged with indifference. "Let's go grab a milkshake? Kinda chilly here," with that, he walked past the still ruffled Penguin to the Riddler and girls who stood aside and watched the scene with unconcealed interest. "Ladies? Victor Zsasz," he greeted them with a wide deranged grin and a slight nod.

"Query," the blonde shook the assassin's hand.

"Echo," her friend did the same.

They really do have fitting aliases, Oswald thought. 

"Eddie spoke highly of your skills," Zsasz sized the duo, who proudly puffed their chests, grasped Riddler’s arms, and leaned to him from both sides. "I miss my girls," the assassin mused, although he didn't sound too distraught.

"Let's keep the pleasantries for later, shall we?" Oswald grumbled and moved towards the boat, clenching his hands into fists to restrain from wrapping his fiancé in a tight embrace like he wanted to do for the last two months they haven't seen each other. 

"Aye-aye.."

"..Captain Penguin!" Query and Echo saluted him, grinning as they skipped to the boat.

Oswald rolled his eyes, limping after the group. His leg did not appreciate being out in the cold for so long, but he wasn't about to complain.

"So," Riddler addressed his associates when they were unfastening the rope binding their boat to a wooden post on the shore. "Did you punish those idiots who tried to jump you at the club?" 

"Oh yeah, the bastards still can't walk to the toilet on their own," Query nodded.

"Much less grope the dancers," Echo's cruel smirk matched her friend's and Edward's.

"Some guys still haven't learned how dangerous girls can be, especially in Gotham," Zsasz snorted.

"I know right."

"You can say that again," both women nodded with enthusiasm.

"Boss," Victor turned to Oswald. He decided not to correct him this time. "Mind giving me a gun?"

Penguin hoped his appalled glare conveyed the sheer absurdity of that request without any words.

Zsasz shrugged, undeterred, "It's not like I need weapons to kill anyone here."

That was the last straw, Penguin ran out of patience. In one fluid motion, he stepped closer to Victor, then grabbed and harshly twisted the assassin's arm behind him, simultaneously yanking his ankle behind so that the man would lose his balance. Zsasz obviously hadn't expected that and fell face-first to the cold ground, breath was kicked from his lungs with a muffled huff. To keep him in place, Penguin pressed one foot on his shoulder blade. Oswald didn't release his hold on Victor's arm and tugged it higher, twisting it to the point where another push could easily dislocate his shoulder. It must be very painful for the assassin, but he didn't even whimper. The whole action took no more than a couple of seconds.

"Hope you don't think I need any weapon," Penguin snarled and, after one last push to the captured limb, let go of the man, taking a step to the side.

Oswald lifted his head to catch three sets of wide eyes staring at the scene with utter bewilderment.

"W-who taught you that?" Riddler was the first to regain his speech. Right, Oswald didn't go into the details of his training when he told Ed of his plans on Slade Wilson. 

Zsasz steadily rose from the ground, not taking his dark eyes from Oswald. He didn't seem offended, but rather amused. He tilted his head, studying Penguin with that familiar maniacal glint in his gaze and a smirk playing on his lips.

"Deathstroke," Penguin answered and produced his cigarette holder, cigarette and a lighter. He needed something to soothe his nerves, that little bit of violence barely helped.

"Deathstroke the Terminator?" Diedre clarified.

"He's a legend!" Nina almost dropped her own cigarette.

"He was in Blackgate," Oswald shrugged and took a long drag, closing his eyes in temporary bliss of rich tobacco flavor on his tongue and heavy smoke filling his lungs.

Penguin could still feel Victor's gaze piercing him. Without looking at the assassin, he pulled out his gun, quickly emptied the clip, and gave him the weapon with a warning glance. Zsasz took it with his trademark lopsided smirk that contained too much childish glee for a man of his profession. There was also a hint of sincere gratitude that Oswald often saw in the assassin's expression whenever he indulged him in allowing to torture or kill somebody. Somehow, it was mostly easy for Penguin to understand Victor Zsasz. He was basically an overgrown child with homicidal tendencies, petulance for murder, and a compulsion for self-harm perhaps. Right now, the man obviously just needed to feel a gun in his hands, not necessarily to use it, but to feel at home after so long. 

"I didn't kill Don Falcone, you know," Oswald said quietly after a minute, casting a glance at the tall assassin cradling and tenderly caressing the gun as if it was a fragile cute bunny in his hands.

"Yeah, I know," Victor nodded without tearing his eyes from the weapon glinting in the dim light. Before them close to the shore, Riddler, Query, and Echo were preparing the boat and laughing at something. "After Sofia was done, I tracked down the crew who shot her and the old Don. They confessed, eventually. Have them all right here," he patted his right shoulder, probably meaning the tally marks he cut on his skin to mark those poor unfortunate goons who didn't know any better. 

Oswald nodded and took another drag.

"But you didn't kill Sofia," he noted, because that news would've certainly reached him otherwise. "It was she who ordered the hit, wasn't it? I supposed but never knew for certain."

Zsasz nodded, tightening his grasp on the barrel of the gun. "Death is release, salvation. She won't get off so easily if she ever wakes up." 

Oswald hummed, fully sharing the assassin's sentiment. It's the reason why he didn't finish her off himself. She just wasn't worth it anymore. 

"Boat's ready! All onboard!" Diedre announced, hopping to the driver's wheel. 

"I'll help push it, but I call dibs on the front seat!" Nina said with a wide grin. Of course she did, there was only one narrow bench behind the front two chairs. 

"Does this thing have a trunk?" Oswald mused, casting a sideways glance at Victor.

"Aw, don't worry boss, you're not that bigger than before, we'll squeeze you in with us, right Nygma?" Zsasz assured casually, pointedly sizing up Penguin's broader than before frame.

Penguin almost dropped his cigarette holder at that man's audacity. "Do you want to eat some more dirt, Zsasz?" 

Of course, that was an idle threat, Oswald didn't have delusions about his slim chances to overpower the professional hitman without catching him off-guard again.

"You're outgunned," Zsasz squinted and trained the empty gun at him.

Oswald scoffed and walked past the grinning assassin to climb inside the boat and take a seat, refusing to comment on this childish behavior.

"Aw, come on chief, what's a little gunplay between friends?"

"Get moving already," Penguin ordered and pointedly ignored the others' giggling.

The three on the ground gave a firm push to the boat, and Ed jumped in to sit next to Oswald. After another push, the boat was fully on the water. Zsasz and Echo hopped onto their seats before Diedre took them away from the shore.

Oswald was grateful for the small mercies, such as his and Edward's thighs and shoulders being pressed together on the cramped seat. Despite the layers separating them, he could feel how cold Ed's skin was, the man must be freezing in the chilly night air and wind. Oswald threw the stub of his cigarette into the water, pocketed his cigarette holder, and felt around the small hatch door under his seat. After a minute of blind shuffling, he produced a plaid flannel blanket and handed it over to his freezing fiancé. Ed accepted it with a quiet ‘thanks', their fingers brushed at the transfer, and they exchanged small smiles.

"Kiss already, jeez" Zsasz huffed. Oswald's gun was already taken apart, details laid carefully on the assassin's lap. After one last tender caress, his hands returned the slide to all other pieces and picked up the barrel. 

"I beg your pardon?" Penguin gritted through his teeth.

"Shut up, Zsasz," Ed hissed simultaneously.

"What? You two are so sweet, my teeth kinda hurt," the hitman shrugged, without even a glance at them because he was busy looking at the approaching city through the barrel like a seaman with a spyglass. "I'm invited to your wedding, right? I love weddings." 

"I don't think Eddie meant to tell his fiancé that people know about them," Diedre noted, casting a disapproving glance at Victor behind her shoulder.

"Yeah, not cool, man," Nina nodded, and pursed her lips sympathetically, looking at Ed, who was all too busy with wrapping himself into a blanket. 

"Uh-huh," Zsasz dropped non-committedly before taking a long sniff at the barrel, eyes fluttering close in pleasure. "Aaahh, dude, that's better than getting laid!" 

Oswald closed his mouth hanging open at the news and exhaled a long sigh. 

"Care to explain, Ed?" he asked calmly with a resigned shake of his head. 

He heard a muffled unintelligible sound from inside the flannel cocoon. To avoid this conversation, Edward wrapped his upper body in the plaid blanket completely, including his head. Oswald couldn't even see where he might find an opening to unwrap him or get inside. A fond chuckle left him without his permission, and Penguin scooped the living flannel mess into a tight embrace, bringing them together. The cocoon made a pleased sound and leaned closer to him. 

"Aww," Diedre squealed, paying more attention to them than to the slowly approaching harbor. 

"So cuute!" Nina fully shared her enthusiasm. 

Oswald shot them a threatening glare, and, after the girls promptly turned away, rolled his eyes but without any real irritation he felt before. He rubbed up and down what he supposed was Edward's upper arm underneath the layers of flannel. What seemed to be Edward's head nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

"I wanna free hugs too, boss," Zsasz said. His hands were skillfully and smoothly putting the gun back together, giving loving strokes to each spring, pin, and rail of the weapon, before sliding them in place. "I'm freezing here, and I didn't even get a blanket."

"Well, Edward might've shared it with you if you didn't chase him into hiding," he huffed and shushed the small protesting sound coming from inside the cocoon. The girls made a few noises that could be squeals, whimpers, giggles, or anything in between. Zsasz snorted slightly, tracing his fingertips over the glinting metal surface. "Would any of you care to elaborate on how exactly you found out about us? I doubt Ed just told you."

"Oh, he didn't just tell, he cried literal tears," Zsasz chuckled.

"What did you do to him?" Penguin demanded harshly, clutching his precious man tighter and piercing the assassin with his most intimidating glare. 

"It's more fair to ask what he did to all of us in Arkham, boss," the hitman said. "He was damn insufferable for months, and I mean much, much more so than usual." 

Ed gave a muffled huff from his hideout.

"We were so fucking done with him, it was either kill him or tie up and gag him, which wouldn't work for long in there," Victor shook his head. "So finally, Tetch manages to sneak in one of his watches thingies he stored for the escape. And," he started to giggle, "he hypnotizes Nygma and commands only one thing, to tell us what the hell was his deal lately."

Zsasz cackled, and Ed muttered something quiet, Oswald thought he heard something about it being ‘not fair'. He hugged his man closer and squeezed his shoulder with reassurance.

"And he just instantly breaks! Second ago, he was telling us about how smart he was compared to us morons, the next moment just snap," he snapped his fingers, "and starts sobbing about ‘Ozzie not loving him anymore' and ‘not seeing his bird for months because he was so stupid and lost him'," Zsasz snorted, making air quotes with a hand not occupied with the gun. "Dude, that was hilarious. I mean, I was still pretty out of it, but hot damn did it make me smile!"

Ed kicked the assassin's ankle, but he hardly seemed to notice. Oswald pressed a kiss on top of Edward's head and hoped he felt it through the layers separating them. He ignored the way the duo in the front seats cooed and crooned.

"Poor Eddie!" 

"He loves you, boss!"

"So, that Hatter guy tells him to just let it all out of his system, and WOW, the scene even melted Ivy's cold heart," Zsasz looked suddenly almost pensive. "She never petted me like that…"

"Will you shut up already?!" Edward's muffled grumble reached them from within the depths of his flannel cave. 

"That's enough, Victor," Penguin agreed. 

Oswald rubbed his poor fiancé soothingly. His stupid insecurities made Ed suffer so much! How could he not foresee it, stuck within his petty jealousy and self-consciousness? It happened years ago, but Oswald didn't know the full extent of how much he had hurt his beloved until now.

"I don't mean it's bad-" the assassin continued but was cut off by Penguin shooting him a warning glare.

Query elbowed her partner so that she would stop staring and turn away from the backseat. The blonde was even considerate enough to fish inside her bag for a cassette player and turn on the music, providing some semblance of privacy. Echo quickly caught up with her endeavors and sang along about the highway to hell, soon joined by her girlfriend. Zsasz was toying with the reassembled gun, apparently preparing to take it apart again, and didn't pay attention to anything else around him.

"Eddie?" Oswald murmured into the cocoon. "Will you let me in?" 

After a few seconds, the flannel folds shifted so that there was a small opening for him. Oswald carefully lifted the layers and stuck his head into Edward's makeshift cave. It was warm and dark here, they couldn't see each other, but it wasn't necessary. 

"Hi," Oswald whispered, stroking his hand over Ed's back above the blanket. 

"Hey," he felt a warm breath against his lips. 

"I'm so sorry I've put you through this, Ed."

"You're not angry with me?" Ed sounded sincerely surprised. 

"No, no, of course not," he whispered and rubbed their noses against each other, evoking a soft giggle from Ed. "I made you doubt my love for you, I'm so sorry. I haven't realized how much I hurt you, that was never my intention." 

"I know, Ozzie, it's alright," Ed brought their lips together, his glasses and Penguin's monocle clinked slightly, but neither of the men paid any heed to this small inconvenience. Riddler shifted the blanket so that it covered Oswald's torso too, shutting them both from the rest of the world. "It all happened long ago, and I never held a grudge over it anyway. I love you, and I know you love me," he murmured between the sweet pecks. 

"I do love you, Eddie, more than anything and anyone," Oswald smiled at the way Edward's whole body leaned even closer to him. "Please, never doubt that, my future husband. Alright?" 

Ed nodded and smiled against his lips. "We're probably presenting quite a picture from the outside right now," he chuckled. Their boat was gradually slowing down. 

"I don't care," Oswald huffed. "I only care about you," he nuzzled his cheek against Edward's. "Have you gotten warmer?" 

"Yes, much better now, thank you." 

The boat smoothly came to a stop. 

"Are you ready to get out?" 

"We can't stay here even though I'd like to," Ed huffed and slowly disentangled from Oswald's frame, taking away the warm blanket and baring him to the cool air. 

The light was too dim to disturb his eyes after only a few minutes in darkness. Edward's ruffled curls peeked out from the blanket in a messy heap, and soon his whole head resurfaced. His glasses were askew, but a pleased smile adorned his face, and dark eyes glowed with happiness. Oswald ignored the way Zsasz smirked at them and Echo grabbed her partner's hand excitedly, trying to draw her attention to the reemerged pair. 

"I suppose I don't have to tell you what will happen if you let anyone know about what you've seen or heard today," Penguin said after everyone left the boat. 

"Our lips.." 

"..are sealed," Query and Echo said in unison and both made a gesture of zipping their lips. 

"Whatever," Victor shrugged after seeing Penguin’s expectant gaze on him. He still seemed more interested in cherishing the gun in his hands, short of licking the metal. Oswald will have to wash it with soap when he gets it back. 

They walked a short distance from the small dock to the limo waiting for them. At least driving will be more comfortable for Oswald and Edward, who took one of the backseats to themselves, leaving the other one to Zsasz, Query, and Echo. The girls didn't seem to mind closeness as they gracefully entwined their arms and legs. The driver was instructed to take them to a butcher's shop a block away from the Iceberg Lounge. It hid one of the secret entrances into the club.

"Oh, stop at the drugstore," Zsasz piped up a few minutes later. "I need my meds." 

"You're on medication and you're going to work for me?" Oswald demanded. 

"Sure, why not," the assassin shrugged. "It's all under control, I haven't had an episode in over a year. And doctors said that staying busy would help." 

Oswald doubted they meant 'staying busy with torturing and murdering people' but didn't voice his concerns. For all his quirks and occasional immaturity, Zsasz takes his job most seriously and wouldn't compromise his reputation out of some misplaced overconfidence. This man knows his limits, he's a professional for a reason. 

The limo came to a stop in an alley one building away from a pharmacy. 

"Be right back," Zsasz flashed his white teeth and cocked his empty gun before slipping through the door. 

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. The girls on the opposite seat giggled about something they murmured to each other; the brunette was basically sitting in the blonde's lap now. Ed worried the hem of his striped inmate shirt with the latest number '7' stitched to it a few months ago. Then he shifted closer to Oswald on their spacious seat and placed a warm hand on his thigh. Penguin couldn't help the sharp intake of air at such an intimate gesture in public, despite said public being two henchwomen who behaved like gushing fangirls invited behind the scenes of their favorite rock band. He didn't do any move to prevent that contact, however. 

"You'd better get used to public displays of affection, Oswald, because when we're married openly and officially, don't expect me to keep my hands to myself," Edward smiled and moved even closer to him, pressing their shoulders together. 

Oswald huffed and covered Edward's hand with his own, intertwining their fingers. Penguin was many things but shy and a coward certainly wasn't among them. And, he had to admit, it was strangely pleasing to feel Query and Echo's appreciative eyes on them. Perhaps he'll get used to it faster than previously expected.

"Do give me a heads-up next time you decide to set up a meeting with one of my enemies, alright, dear?" Oswald said lightly but with a steely undertone that conveyed the seriousness of the matter. 

Ed at least had the sense to look a bit remorseful. But that quickly faded into giddiness as he leaned closer to his fiancé, dark eyes sparkling with joy from behind his spectacles. "Mountains will crumble and temples will fall, no one can survive its infinite call. What is it?"

"Edward, you know I love you, even the riddles," Oswald sighed. "But you also know how I feel about them at four in the morning," he gave his tone a threatening edge.

"Time, Ozzie, the answer is time," Ed answered quickly with a soft smile playing on his lips. "It was very short notice, I only had a chance to tell Echo to bring you along and stop you from shooting Zsasz on the spot," he shrugged and gave a slight squeeze to Oswald's thigh. "But hey, it went well, didn't it? You've got your best hitman back, I don't owe him a favor anymore, and he's been eager to get back to work for months." 

"I suppose we'll see," Oswald allowed. If Zsasz is at least half as good as he used to be then it's indeed a very fortunate turn of events. Aside from that one-time deal with Deathstroke, Penguin still had trouble finding a proper right hand to keep his enemies in line. Rupert Thorne was temporarily weakened, but that gave way for others to strengthen their positions. 

The car door soon opened, and the assassin slid inside, not seeming to be in a rush. He held the gun and a bag of prescription bottles in one hand and a half-eaten chocolate bar in the other. 

"I step out, and you go all hanky-panky, huh?" he commented on the poses of the two couples in the car. The girls stuck their tongues out in response, Penguin only huffed, and Riddler tucked himself even closer into his fiancé's side. 

They spent the rest of the drive listening to how Zsasz robbed the drugstore without even having to threaten anyone. Nobody was surprised, really. It's a basic survival rule in Gotham: you see anyone in Arkham inmate uniform with a gun in hand, you let them be. Especially if that someone is the infamous Victor Zsasz, still well-known and feared even after years of inactivity. 

The group left the limo a few blocks away from the Diamond District and opened the back door of the butcher's shop with a hidden key. Once inside, they made their way through the freezer with rows of hanging carcasses to the basement and into a hidden tunnel after Oswald entered the code on the keypad, making sure that nobody saw him do it. He didn't yet trust enough anyone currently present, except Ed, of course, who helped design these passageways. 

All the way through the well-lit tunnel, Riddler chattered with his henchwomen about the plans and ideas he came up with during his time in the Asylum, something about a city-wide scavenger hunt for the GCPD, with hostages and traps to keep them motivated, of course. Oswald was pleased to hear how Edward's allies pointed out the absurdly high risks and questionable tactics more than once. Surprisingly enough, Riddler listened to their criticism without lashing out too much and even agreed to consider the alternatives later. Penguin's voice of reason was usually much more easily brushed off. Oswald would be offended if he wasn't so glad to know that there were people who had the power to reel Ed in and keep the level of craziness of his ideas in check. Perhaps having Query and Echo around wasn't so bad at all. However, a minute after, they did suggest blowing up a building while being inside and wearing bomb suits instead, so Oswald didn't know if he should reconsider his latest assessment of the duo.

Zsasz took several pills from different prescription bottles before they left the car and the whole walk was silent and almost absent-minded. Oswald wondered if the assassin will ever fully restore his damaged psyche. Having his free will taken for such a long time took its toll on Victor, and he wasn't a picture of mental health to begin with. Hopefully, doing his familiar job will indeed help him return to his old self. Despite still remaining bitter about Victor's old betrayal, Oswald could understand the reason for it. And he decidedly did not like to see usually cheerful and even carefree Zsasz struggle with his damaged mind, not to mention that it had a risk of getting in the way of his work. 

At the end of another turn, the group reached the elevator. After accepting the code, Oswald's fingerprint, and retinal scan, it opened and took them up to the Penguin's office. 

"Woah," Zsasz whistled appreciatively as he gazed around the luxuriously decorated room. "Cozier than the first one, boss," he walked to the table and slumped onto the velvet padded chair. 

"Hey, that's my seat," Ed protested. 

"Not anymore," Zsasz smirked. "Can you order some food in here? I'm starving." 

Oswald rolled his eyes, but dialed the kitchen and allowed everyone in the room to place an order. 

Ten minutes later, Jay, one of his most trusted waitresses, brought their late-night meal. Ed changed into his spare suit in the adjacent bedroom and managed to remove Victor from his favorite chair, purely on principle since he didn't order any food. Query and Echo also weren't hungry, much more intent on finally exploring Penguin's office after months of trying and failing to break in, making Riddler proudly puff his chest at the safety system he had installed. 

"So, boss, what's the first mission? Murder, torture, kidnapping, stealing a truck of ice-cream — I'm up for anything," Zsasz asked as he dug into his extra rare steak and drowned every bite with his strawberry milkshake. Oswald almost felt his appetite waning a bit as he imagined the ungodly mixture of flavors. 

Penguin swallowed a piece of smoked salmon with scrambled duck eggs and wiped his mouth with a napkin as he contemplated how much he can disclose to the man without endangering his whole operation beyond reason. It's not like he completely mistrusted Zsasz, and the assassin had shown exceptional loyalty until he was deceived by Sofia. Now he had no more allegiances and he did come to Penguin as an attempt to work together on trusting terms again. Oswald sighed. 

"I need you to find Basil Karlo," he said finally. 

"That Clayface guy?" Zsasz asked after a second it took him to recognize the name. Oswald rolled his eyes and nodded. Apparently, it was against the law to do crime in Gotham without some corny monicker or at least a catchy name lately. "Why?" 

Penguin scoffed. "Just find him and bring him here." 

"Uh-huh, if you say so," Victor shrugged, slurping his milkshake through the straw. "But then you leave it for me to choose the way I bring him, you know. Like dead, alive, half-dead, half-alive, without ears or-..." 

"Oh fine," Oswald groaned. "Bring him here alive, unharmed and preferably unthreatened. I want to hire him. My people haven't succeeded in locating him yet, which is supposedly a good thing and means that he knows a thing or two about what he's doing."

"I'll get him, boss, it's in the bag," Zsasz promised and threw the last piece of his steak into his mouth. "Finally, good meat. I'm never going veggie again," he muttered to himself and frowned, probably at the memories associated with that diet. 

"Ooh.." 

"..a safe!" Edward's henchwomen discovered a hidden wall in the liquor cabinet. 

"Meh, Oswald doesn't keep anything fun here, only some cash, a bit of blackmail on his business partners and info on the Iceberg personnel," Riddler stood up and stepped closer to them. Oswald could only gape at the audacity of the trio. "The safe in the bedroom on the other hand…" he pointedly trailed off. 

"ED!" Oswald finally found his voice and jumped from his seat.  

Ms. Vance and Ms. Damfino at least yanked their hands back from the cabinet at the sound of his shriek. But only for as long as it took them to access the situation and conclude it's safe to investigate since their boss stood grinning, unperturbed by the Penguin’s outrage. 

"Oh, don't you worry, Oswald, they won't open that safe, but I'm curious to see them try this one," Ed gave a nod to his accomplices, and the brunette eagerly fished a small box from the back pocket of her jeans. It was a lockpicking kit, and the duo focused on solving the safe combination under Riddler’s amused gaze. 

Oswald could only scoff as he slumped back into his throne-like chair and summoned what remained of his patience wearing so thin ever since he had to get up in the middle of the night. 

"So, you wanna keep playing inmate and leave Karlo in your place, right?" Zsasz asked after loudly slurping the last drops of his milkshake through the straw. "But why? You're already out." 

"I don't expect you to understand, Zsasz," Penguin huffed with annoyance. He wanted to get back to bed already, preferably with his beloved fiancé tucked at his side. "Frankly, I don't need you to."

"But why?" the assassin insisted and put his empty glass on the table, staring at Oswald with unwavering intensity. 

"Because I'm playing the long game, Victor. When I'm officially freed from that cage, I won't need to start any wars. I'll have already won them." 

"Huh," was all the answer he received from the bald man studying him with his unnervingly dark eyes. There was a time when Oswald would have been intimidated or at least disturbed under such scrutiny from Zsasz, but now he found that he didn't feel any threat emanating from the assassin at all. He briefly wondered if that feeling was Victor's intention or just how things genuinely were between them now. 

"Gotcha!" 

"Hell yeah!" 

Penguin's attention was once again drawn to the trio as Query and Echo threw a pack of cash from the now opened safe into the air, showering in his money. Zsasz whistled with approval to support the girl's impromptu dance. Riddler frowned and pouted as he studied the lock, muttering how they weren't supposed to succeed in picking it, especially so quickly. 

Oswald could only sigh and down the rest of his Pinot Grigio as a way to bolster his composure since he was apparently the only grown-up here.

—☂—

"Do you think it's funny, Cobblepot?" Commissioner Gordon demanded as he loomed above the handcuffed inmate in the meeting room. 

"You, coming down here for a chat again? Frankly, no, I find it annoying," he answered, stubbornly maintaining eye contact with the cop. 

"Didn't know you had a twin brother, Oswald," Jim withdrew a photo from his jacket's inner pocket and slammed it onto the center of the table. The picture clearly showed Oswald Cobblepot sipping some amber liquid and resting in one of the booths of the Iceberg Lounge. 

The kingpin let a small smile creep onto his lips. "Well, James, I'm assuming you, of all people, are intimately familiar with cases of identity theft. Not that I'm pressing any charges, of course," he chuckled. 

"Are you saying that Basil Karlo or somebody else with his skills, out of nowhere decided to wear your face and play host at your nightclub?" Gordon asked, not hiding his skepticism. 

"I do get the luxury of free top-shelf drinks in my own establishment," he replied with a shrug.

"I know you're hiding something, Oswald," Jim finally stopped towering over him and sat down. "And I'll get to the bottom of this. So why don't you make it easier for everyone and tell me what you're up to?" 

"Make life easier for you, Commissioner? Never again," the mirthless smirk still playing on his lips didn't hide the bitter threat of his tone. 

Gordon's nostrils flared, but it was painfully obvious that he couldn't do anything to make him speak. 

"I'll find out what you're planning, I promise you that," he stated calmly as he stood up. 

"You're speaking like you can do anything worse than you've done to me already," the criminal slowly rose from the metal chair. "You'd be wise to start making it up to me now, before it's too late," he spat at the leaving cop's back before the door closed with a buzz. 

On the way back to the cell, he was once again called by a desk sergeant. This time a call, very much expected. 

"I'm ready for the well-deserved praise, boss," the criminal drawled after making sure nobody could overhear. "Was I a great actor or an outstanding one?" 

"It was believable," Oswald allowed, relaxing against the back of his chair in his office at the Iceberg Lounge. 

The screen on the monitor before him showed live feed from the surveillance camera overlooking Basil Karlo, currently wearing Penguin’s appearance and proudly straightening the Blackgate inmate uniform. With the hand not occupied with the phone, Oswald pressed a button on the remote and the screen blinked, switching to the camera just outside the Blackgate. Jim Gordon stood not far from the exit and was tiredly wiping his face as he talked to someone on the cellphone. Oswald had a pretty good idea of who it might be on the other line. 

"It wasn't just believable, it was perfect, admit it, Penguin," Clayface insisted smugly. 

"Oh fine, you've fooled Jim Gordon, that was indeed both important and impressive," Oswald said, rolling his eyes even though nobody could see it. "But tone it down a notch with open threats to Gordon under the cameras, perhaps. I don't need it coming back to bite me later."

"Sure thing. Those acting classes I took are paying off nicely, this is my largest role yet. I'll be at my best, boss," the shapeshifter assured. 

"I'm counting on you, Mr. Karlo," Oswald played along and stroked the actor's ego. He did do a great job of impersonating Penguin, to a point of it being too disturbing for Oswald to speak face to face with him in full disguise after a couple of weeks of their training, or rehearsals, as Clayface preferred to call it. "Keep it up and don't get in trouble there. I'll replace you in one month. Good luck," Oswald said and hung up. 

He was rather tired of hearing his own voice on the other end of the line and also noticed Victor Zsasz entering the office and lurking in the shadows near the door as he often did lately. 

"What is it, Zsasz?" 

"She came, boss, just like you said she would," the assassin reported. "Ordered a drink and asked the waitress to have a chat with you. Something about business, I wasn't listening," he shrugged and helped himself to the fruit basket, taking a big red apple from it. "She also talked on the phone, seemed annoyed." 

"Jim is so woefully predictable, it's a miracle he's still alive in his position," Oswald huffed, walking to the door. He loosened his tie, removed the cufflinks, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. With only a dark purple vest above his midnight-grey shirt, he still looked like himself, but much more lax than usual.

On the way to his private booth, Oswald waved over Jay and made an order. The staff here got used to their boss's presence quickly and loved their lives enough to never utter a word about his 'outings' from the Blackgate. He didn't do any revolutionary changes here yet, the nightclub worked like a well-oiled machine for years and can keep it up until Penguin has some free time for major renovations. 

Barbara Kean awaited him, lounging on the exquisite sofa with her Chicago Martini in hand. She waved at him and grinned brightly. Oswald grinned back; time to play Clayface at his sleaziest. 

"Pengy! So nice to see you," she greeted, placed the glass on the table, and got up to give him a quick hug. 

"Verrry nice indeed," Oswald drawled absentmindedly and forced his eyes to trace the curves of her body from head to the tight black dress under a white jacket and down to the high-heeled stilettos. He wondered if it would be too much to lick his lips, so he sucked in his lower lip instead. 

"It's been what, almost seven years since we saw each other?" she asked casually and lowered back on the cushioned seat. 

It was a poor attempt at catching his lies, certainly, Barbara could do better. They last met in secret not even half a year ago to discuss the security and construction of her own skyscraper to rival the rapidly growing new Wayne Tower. She gave generous bribes to insure that cameras in the Blackgate malfunctioned and guards were too blind to see her visiting a convicted criminal. Barbara was smart and knew that maintaining such a massive real estate business was impossible without proper support from all sides, including the underworld. And it so happened that she hated Penguin less than all the other current bosses. Barbara also wasn't as naive as the father of her child and realized years ago that the prison bars were Oswald's protection, not restriction. They've established a profitable partnership, and now Oswald wondered if she would give his game up if he let her in on the little secret of which one is the real Penguin. She probably had much more to lose, but knowing that Gordon wasn't above using some blackmail he probably had on the woman, Oswald decided not to risk it. 

"Dunno how long, but you look delicious as ever," Penguin attempted his most lascivious voice and sat uncomfortably close to Barbara. 

He thought about placing his hand on her thigh, but despite only playing the role, he couldn't allow himself such a behavior. Besides, it could warrant him a punch in the face, and Basil Karlo warned how easily that could blow the cover. 

Instead, Penguin stretched his arm atop the back of the sofa, almost hugging the woman's shoulders. Judging by the look of distaste briefly shining through the crack in Barbara's mask of polite indifference, Penguin’s act of a leering creep was successful thus far. 

"So," Oswald started and leaned even closer to her as he spoke. "What brings you here, gorgeous?" 

"What a coincidence, I wanted to ask you the same thing, Ozzie," Barbara said with a tight-lipped smirk, picking up her glass again. "Last I heard, you were in Blackgate, without parole, and not even close to serving your full sentence." 

"I don't see you calling the pigs on me, babe," Oswald risked the derogatory pet-name that once led to Sal Maroni's downfall. He cringed internally and bit his tongue to keep from doing it openly. 

As expected, Barbara was no more a fan of the nickname than Fish was. "Call me 'babe' one more time, and they'll have to ID your corpse by dental records," she seethed, dropping the pretense for a moment. 

"Ooh, feisty, I like that in a woman," he chuckled, but then leaned back a little when the glint in Barbara's eyes became deadly. "No need to get so worked up, gorgeous, relax. Oh, finally!" he noticed the waitress and took a glass of beer from her. "Thanks, darling." 

Jay winked at her boss and placed a bowl of French fries, visibly holding back from smiling too much. Oswald warned her that he might behave like a disgusting sleaze because he needed to act like one, so it must be a funny image for her. Penguin made a show of staring at Jay's retreating figure for his one-person audience. 

Now was one of the hardest tasks of Oswald's performance. He hated both taste and smell of beer, but he had to drink it with a straight face under Barbara's suspicious scrutiny. He took a big gulp and forced it down his throat, ignoring the involuntary gag reflex. 

"Ahh, good shit," he shook his head in appreciation and took another swig. 

"How's your business?" Barbara inquired politely, barely showing her shock. 

"Good, all's good," Oswald nodded. "Hey, drinks on me, for such a gorgeous lady," he clinked his glass with Barbara's before taking another sip of the yellow liquid. This time, swallowing it made him hiccup loudly, and if it wasn't an act, Oswald would be mortified. But in this situation, it probably played in his hand, judging by the woman's slight scowl. 

"How is Ed doing these days?" Barbara continued her not so subtle interrogation, swirling the skewered olives in her martini. 

"Ed?" Oswald feigned a moment of recollection. "Ed Nygma! He's good, good," he said with indifference and busied himself with stuffing his mouth full of French fries, hoping to chase away the lingering beer flavor. "But enough about me. How you've been, sweetheart?" he leaned closer into Barbara's personal space, still chewing the food. Her sharp eyes and tight lips showed that the woman was close to snapping from all the discomfort he was provoking. 

Just like Oswald ordered, Zsasz approached them a few minutes after the waitress departed.

"You're needed in your office, boss," he punctuated and gave a wink to shocked Barbara. "Hey, Ms. Kean, what's up? Love the color," he nodded at the woman's shoulder-length red hair. 

"Zsasz? I heard you escaped from Arkham," she tensed and shifted her free hand closer to her classy purse, no doubt containing a weapon of some sort. "Is it a good idea coming here?" 

"Dunno, the place is cozy," the assassin shrugged. He didn't have to tell Barbara to keep quiet about seeing him here, she was smart enough to know that. 

Meanwhile, Oswald stood up, threw a couple more fries into his mouth, and picked up his remaining beer. "Sorry, gorgeous, duty calls," he winked at Barbara, who almost successfully hid her relief behind sipping the martini. "Wait for me here. I'll be back and give you a nice tour of my.. office," he once again sized her up and down, licking his lips. 

"I'll consider it, Ozzie," Barbara gave a toothy smile and threw one leg over another. 

Thankfully, Zsasz put his hand on Oswald's shoulder and saved him the necessity of staring at the action, pulling him away from the booth. They walked to the office door together, and finally, Oswald could straighten his posture and fix his clothes after giving the half-empty beer glass to Victor. 

"You think she bought it?" Zsasz asked. 

"Yes, undoubtedly, but let's check anyway," Penguin walked back to the monitor and entered a different code on the remote. The screen displayed Barbara talking on the phone and swirling the remaining drink in her glass. After a press of another button, the speakers came to life, and Oswald switched to the feed from the microphone hidden under the table of his booth. 

"Yes, I'm sure," Barbara hissed into the phone, apparently not for the first time. "He drank beer, for crying out loud!" 

Oswald snorted, he knew that would appall her greatly. Barbara was fully aware of his alcohol preferences. 

"No, I didn't punch him, Jim, don't be absurd. Or would you rather I left my daughter motherless because of your whims?" she almost growled in exasperation and tiredly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Besides, the last thing I wanted was to touch him. I won't be able to look real Oswald in the eyes after this pervert tried to hit on me like a horny swine." 

There was a pause, longer than before. Barbara sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"I'm pretty sure if Penguin didn't want this half-assed actor flashing his face here, he'd make sure it never happened. He must get updates on his club, right? Anyway, none of this is my business, Jim. I did as you asked, we're even now. What you and Cobblepot do next doesn't concern or interest me at all."

Oswald wondered what Commissioner had on her in the first place. Did Barbara accidentally slip up somehow and showed a glimpse of the not-so-legal side of her business? If that was the case, he wasn't even surprised that Gordon gave her a free pass for a favor instead of treating her like any other dirty entrepreneur. 

"Yes, I dropped her at Lee's clinic. She asked when will daddy return, so do come home sometimes, hm?" Barbara said much more softly. "What? I didn't catch that. Wait, let me leave this place before that creep returns." 

Oswald muted the sound and stood up to fetch a proper drink this time. Now that his cover story was in place, he was free to get himself more involved in the underworld outside the Blackgate. Deathstroke's last-minute betrayal put that part of the plan on pause, but now Penguin will see the real strength of his newly rebuilt empire.