Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had to be a trap.
The lack of guards or alarm as Ed opened the back door to the Iceberg Lounge only supported this theory. He folded away his lock picking kit and took out his handgun, squinting through the darkness as he entered.
As Ed ventured further in, he passed the silent kitchen and once again reflected on how uneconomical it was for Penguin to have closed the Lounge on a Saturday night.
As Ed crept upstairs to the main seating area, he ran through the letter again.
He had found the plain card slipped under the door of his safehouse (which he had hastily relocated from upon realising who had sent him the card).
It had simply read:

‘Private party.
Iceberg Lounge.
Saturday 7pm.
Come alone.
Oswald.
P.S This is not a trap or a trick. Not that you’ll believe me.
P.P.S. The Lounge will be closed but the front door will be unlocked. Let yourself in’.

At first he had assumed it was a bad joke: Saturday was ‘April Fool’s Day after all but he had expected more from Oswald. Usually his murder attempts had a bit more finesse than him promising it wasn’t a trap then springing a trap.
So, Ed had decided not to go, out of self-preservation but also out of affronted pride.
Oswald had sent him such a pathetic card on purpose! To rile him into coming to the Lounge where Oswald could murder him at his leisure!
He had fumed at the card even after tearing it up and casting it into the trash.
And yet somehow, Saturday was now here and he had found himself in the neighbourhood where the Lounge was situated.

He fought down the mocking little voice that jeered he was only here because he had nothing better to do on a Saturday night and mentally insisted that this was about making Oswald understand who he was dealing with.
That, and Ed had no idea what Oswald was thinking. The card and its envelope hadn’t even been booby trapped.
He couldn’t just leave the question unresolved!
There had to be an answer!

As Ed had passed the Lounge he had seen it was closed and had remembered Oswald’s instructions to ‘let himself in’.
So, of course, Ed had gone to the back door and picked the lock.
He would have brought support but that relied upon having people to ‘back you up’.

He adjusted his grip on his pistol as he placed his palm on the door that led to the seating area.
It was a reassuring weight in his hand as he detected Oswald humming to himself from behind the door.
Ed inhaled and exhaled the breath slowly then threw the door open so fast it banged off the wall.

His brain kicked into overdrive to quickly analyse the situation and a strategy to counter anything that may be waiting to hurt him.
Instead of information however, all Ed got were questions.

Why was Oswald alone?
Why was Oswald unarmed?
Why was Oswald wearing his gold coat he only wore for special occasions?
Why was Oswald looking at his watch and smiling?

‘You’re late’, Oswald said, adjusting a bucket with a bottle of champagne in it a millimetre to the right, ‘I had to go get more ice. Let me guess, you used the back door?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Ed asked, blinking.

‘Close the door will you?’ Oswald asked, waving a hand, ‘Despite this place’s name I don’t want all the heat getting out’.

Ed kicked the door shut behind him, gun still trained on Oswald as he began to approach.

‘Is this when your goons jump out, yell ‘April Fool’s’ and gun me down?!’ Ed demanded, eyes glancing around the Lounge.

No such individuals materialized.

‘I thought ‘riddling’ people was your gimmick’, Oswald commented, helpfully lifting up a couple of tablecloths to assuage Ed’s suspicions of concealed henchmen.

‘What is this?’ Ed asked, beginning to move towards Oswald.

‘What does it look like?’ Oswald countered, apparently unworried by Ed pointing a gun directly at him.

‘A candlelit dinner’, Ed surmised, brow furrowed as he catalogued the evidence.

A veritable smorgasbord of Chinese dishes, two tall champagne flutes, neatly folded napkins in the shape of origami penguins, two lit ornate candlesticks and even a small orchid in a vase all sat atop a tablecloth embroidered with oriental dragons. A table set for two.

Despite his keen powers of observation, Ed failed to resolve the evidence with a reason for its presence that made sense to him.

‘You always were perceptive’, Oswald joked gently.

He pulled a chair out for Ed and gestured to it.
Ed didn’t move, his fingers adjusting their drip on the pistol.

‘Why is there a candlelit dinner here?’ Ed pressed.

Oswald moved away from Ed’s chair and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

‘Because nobody, not even a criminal mastermind like you’, Oswald said with the slightest hint of impatience, ‘should be alone on their birthday’.

‘I’m not alone’, Ed said, hating how childlike and impetuous his voice sounded.

It was a pathetic lie, born more out of wounded pride than pragmatism. He and Oswald both knew Ed had nobody with him. He never did.

Oswald seemed indifferent to Ed’s disagreement.

‘No guns at the table please’, Oswald said, voice tinged with a hint of reproach.

Wrong footed by Oswald’s utter lack of aggression but intrigued by the scenario despite himself, Ed lowered the gun. After a moment, he clicked the safety on but tucked it into his jacket pocket where it could be easily retrieved.

‘Did you know studies show people who have more birthdays live longer?’ Oswald joked as Ed finally, slowly took his seat.

It slid across the Lounge’s floor with a noticeable scraping noise as Ed pulled himself in closer to the table.

‘Studies also show that sworn enemies don’t tend to celebrate each other’s birthdays’, Ed said, unfolding his napkin from its amusing shape and placing it on his knee.

Ed didn’t celebrate his birthday at all. He had gotten so used to not celebrating that he had completely overlooked the date. That wasn’t like him.
Maybe that was why he had been so irritated and downcast lately? He assumed it had been because of Oswald’s message but maybe his subconscious had identified the date even if Ed hadn’t remembered.
Resigned to the scenario, reassured that Oswald did indeed seem to be alone (and tempted by the alluring smell of the banquet Oswald had arranged), Ed reached for his chopsticks and broke them apart, ready for use.

‘Well, think of this as our own personal Christmas 1914’, Oswald responded, waving his own white napkin as a self-demonstrating flag of truce, ‘After all it is ‘April Fool’s Day’. Aren’t we supposed to act somewhat contrary?’

Ed didn’t answer, choosing instead to pick up the basket of prawn crackers and offer one to Oswald. He nodded gratefully and took one, crunching it without hesitation.
Ed, satisfied that the food did not seem to be poisoned, began to help himself to some sweet and sour chicken.
They ate in silence for a while until Oswald spoke again.

‘You helped me celebrate my birthday when my mother died’, he said reflectively, ‘Do you remember?’

Ed nodded, wondering where Oswald was going with this.

‘We ate Chinese food in my apartment’, Ed nodded, ‘This Chinese food’.

‘I don’t think I ever thanked you for it’, Oswald said pensively.

‘It was just take out’, Ed shrugged, trying to ignore the nostalgic twinge in his chest.

‘Right, like those presents I brought you in Arkham were just biscuits and a sweater’.

Ed looked up from his plate and met Oswald’s surprisingly earnest look.

‘Trust me, it mattered’, Oswald concluded.

Ed nodded in acknowledgement, his brain automatically providing a full list of every gift Oswald had ever brought him during his incarceration.
A set of origami paper, the puzzle box, chocolates, crossword puzzles, brainteaser books, the list went on but Ed’s brain had moved on chronologically to Oswald guaranteeing his release then offering him a home and a job.
Oswald’s voice cut into his internal auditing.

‘My point is, I didn’t get the chance to thank you before…everything happened. Champagne?’

Ed nodded curtly and watched Oswald pour him a generous glass.
Once both their glasses were full, Oswald took a seat across from Ed and raised his glass in salute.
Ed returned the salute automatically. He waited until he saw Oswald take a drink before raising his own glass and sampling the champagne.
It didn’t taste poisoned either.

‘I’m surprised you never made a fuss about your birthday’, Oswald observed, ignorant of Ed’s continued suspicions, ‘I thought you would have been in your element being the centre of attention’.

‘When your parents spend all their time wishing you’d never been born, it’s hard to get the hang of birthdays’.

Ed had been so wrapped up theorising about Oswald’s genuine reason for inviting him to dinner that he didn’t realise he had spoken loud until he noticed Oswald staring at him with widened eyes.
Jaw tightening, Ed forced a smile.

‘April Fool’, he said, jamming another mouthful in to hopefully prevent any more slip ups.

There was no sense giving Oswald any more ammunition but a quick glance at Oswald’s face told Ed Oswald wasn’t convinced.
Ed had to give him credit: he looked sincerely crestfallen.

‘I’m sorry’, Oswald said softly, ‘I didn't know’.

‘Forget it’, Ed said, eyebrow twitching at Oswald’s sympathetic tone as he lowered his chopsticks.

He wiped his mouth and pushed the bowl away, signalling the end of his patience with whatever game Oswald was playing.

‘Much as I appreciate the 'spirit of the season', could you please just tell me what you want? Hard as it is to believe, I’m not in the mood to waste all evening figuring it out’.

Oswald looked about to make a protestation of some kind but Ed saw him almost physically swallow the words.

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Usually I’m the one doing the asking’, Ed said, eyebrow rising, ‘This should be interesting’.

‘Don't you ever get tired of ulterior motives?’ Oswald asked hastily, blurting the question out almost like a compulsive sneeze.

‘What do you mean?’ Ed asked, crossing his arms.

‘I mean our 'jobs'’, Oswald clarified, hands moving to and fro to emphasise his point, ‘All the scheming and back stabbing? The desperate struggle to stay on top and ahead of everyone else?’

‘I find it quite fulfilling’, Ed replied.

He stopped drumming his fingers to reach for another a prawn cracker.

‘And yet I (someone you've tried to kill on multiple occasions and who has admittedly tried to return the favour) am the only one who even knew it was your birthday’.

Ed’s fingers twitched and accidentally broke the prawn cracker in half.

‘Are you suggesting I'm lonely?’ he asked archly.

‘No!’ Oswald protested, shaking his head emphatically, ‘No, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I just miss it sometimes’.

‘Miss what?’ Ed prompted, already knowing the answer.

‘The way we used to be’, Oswald said resignedly.

Ed knocked back the rest of his champagne to try and calm his racing heart.
It had always amazed him how Oswald could just come out and say things so easily but hearing those particular words had been akin to some kind of mental blunt force trauma.

‘We can't go back to the way we used to be’, Ed said stonily, helping himself to some more champagne.

Oswald noted the way Ed’s eyes darted to the top of the bar and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

‘I know that’, Oswald said quickly, ‘But we can't keep going the way we are. Never speaking to each other except to trade insults or routine, half-hearted attempts at homicide. Let’s face it Ed, if we really wanted to kill each other, we’d both be dead by now’.

‘So, why aren’t we?’ Ed asked, shoving the now empty champagne bottle into the ice bucket upside down.

‘Frankly because we're only pretending to be angry at each other’, Oswald explained, ‘Going through the motions because we think we should still be angry at each other’.

‘You've been thinking about this for a while haven't you?’ Ed commented, twirling the champagne flute stem between his fingers.

'So have you', Oswald countered.

Ed knew it wasn’t a question.

'How do you know?'

‘I saw you at the museum last week at that new exhibit on Ancient Egypt. Reminded me of all those openings we had to go to when I was mayor’.

Ed was perplexed by the nostalgic smile on Oswald’s face.
He had thought that all memories of that time would have been toxic to Oswald: a horrible inevitability poisoning them of any happiness they may have previously given him.
Yet he was smiling about it.
Astonishingly, Ed felt an instinctive desire to smile too.
He hadn’t thought about those days in a very long time. He tried not to live in the past but he could not deny those had been some good times.
Just the two of them against the world.
Instead of the two of them against each other.
That thought quenched the growing smile on his face.

‘I didn’t see you’, Ed lied, in his mind’s eye seeing Oswald enter the exhibition hall, catch sight of Ed and immediately turn on his heel to leave.

'Yes you did’, Oswald argued, ‘I also know you followed me out but then stopped yourself’.

‘You were at the exhibit alone?’

‘This is what I’m talking about. What stopped you? The thought I may have reinforcements or your own stubbornness? I know why I left and I’ve regretted it ever since. I regret a lot of things’.

Ed knew Oswald was right but there was another reason why he had stopped himself.
In such a public place, should a confrontation erupt, the GCPD would have been on them within moments. Not to mention the damage that could have been caused to valuable historical and cultural artefacts in the ensuing fracas.
But most importantly, Ed had had no idea what to say to Oswald if he caught him.
Just because they were enemies, were they expected to always fight when they encountered each other? Or could they form a truce?
But then what? End the truce as soon as they set foot outside the museum?
Even if they had just finished a nice afternoon looking at the exhibits together?
Ed had decided it was best not to take the risk and his decision to let Oswald go had seemed right at the time.
Logical and uncomplicated.
But, looking back on it and realising Oswald had been thinking about the encounter as well, Ed found himself regretting it.

‘What are you saying?’ Ed probed, ‘That you arranged this birthday dinner for me as some kind of olive branch to pry us out of this rut we're both stuck in?’

‘You already know the answer to that. Why else would you come walking willingly into what should be the lion's den for you?’

Ed gave a heavy sigh as he looked at the still warm half eaten Chinese banquet in front of him and the pale beauty of the orchid amongst the candles.
An answer to a question revealed the nature of the person who replied. Ed had always believed in that and now, he knew the answer he had to give.
The only truthful answer. The answer he had been keeping hidden inside himself all week.
He clasped his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking.

‘To show you that I…that I miss you too’.

Ed shifted uncomfortably as silence greeted his confession, feigning deep interest in the fabric of the tablecloth.
After a few, overlong seconds, Oswald suddenly gave an odd, choked sounding laugh.

‘What?!’ Ed asked bristling but softened as soon as he saw Oswald’s face.

He had clasped a hand over his mouth to stifle the laugh, cheeks coloured and eyes shining.
Oswald closed his eyes and took a moment to compose himself before speaking.

‘Nothing, I…I was just expecting you to follow that with ‘April Fool’s'’.

Ed was touched by how worried Oswald looked at the prospect of Ed confirming that his admittance had been nothing but a cruel joke.
The laugh Ed had mistaken for mockery had actually been of giddy relief.
Oswald had really missed him that much?

‘Nice to see I can still surprise you sometimes’, Ed joked.

They both sat, stealing glances at each other bashfully but too nervous to look at each other’s faces.
After what seemed like an hour, Oswald cleared his throat.

‘You know, the museum is open late tonight. If you'd like we could-‘

He nearly jumped when Ed rose out of his chair.

‘If you're trying to ask me out on a date you're wasting your time’, Ed said, putting his jacket and hat back on.

‘A-a date? I-I, no of course not!’ Oswald babbled, dismay obvious on his face, ‘Y-you made it clear that you weren't-that you're not...’

Ed laid his hand on Oswald’s where it was sitting on the table.
Ed squeezed gently and watched Oswald blush to the tips of his ears.

‘April Fool’, Ed said soothingly.

‘Re-really?’

Ed nodded with a smile.

‘How can you ask me on a date when we're already on one?’ Ed said, ‘Get the limo. I want us to travel in style’.

‘You’re lucky it’s your birthday’, Oswald said with mock reproach, ‘I’m not used to being ordered around’.

‘Better get used to it’, Ed replied, raising an eyebrow coyly, ‘The night’s only just starting’.