Chapter Text
He stood at his mother's grave and looked down at the bare headstone. This is where his mother lay.
His mother.
The person he had loved about everything. And which he had not been able to protect. His heart broke every time at that thought.
"Hello Mother," his voice sounded thin in the sad silence.
“I don't know if I'm gonna make it without you.”
Rarely lay so much truth in a sentence from Oswald Cobblepot's mouth. He really didn't know if he could do it. Let alone, how.
No one had ever believed in him, no one ever loved him. Except her. And now she wasn't there.
"Mother," he whined quietly, swallowing down his tears. He was here the first time.
“Sorry I've only made it now. You deserved something better. A better grave. A better life. A better -" now he couldn't hold back a single tear. "son."
His heart cracked open one more time. His mother was only dead – because of him. And he could never, ever forgive himself for that. Just because he had been striving for so much power, that had ultimately happened. Had he just remained Fish Moony's umbrella boy, everything would have gone differently!
“But don't worry, Mother. I promise you, I've changed. And I'll show you. "
Hope resonated in his broken voice.
“I'm coming to you and I'm going to protect you, from anything and anybody.”
She was so innocent, so fragile! She needed him!
“I love you. Wait for me." In a loving gesture, he placed the flowers on the grave and bent forward to press a gentle kiss on the cold headstone.
When he turned away, he felt so heavy and light at the same time. He had nothing left to keep him here. Determined, he walked out of the cemetery towards the river. He was finished with his wretched life here on earth. The river had almost taken him before and this time he would let it do so.
In front of the the abyss, he stopped and looked into the cloud-covered sky for the last time.
'I'm the King of Gotham, ' laughed a crazy voice bitterly in his head and then he let himself fall. Into the cold, dark death.
~~~~~~~~
Edward looked into the dark sky and closed his eyes. For days, Gotham had looked as hopeless as he felt about himself. He saw only blurry shades of gray in the sky. Ed hadn't worn his glasses for a few days. Since the incident.
For one thing, because they reminded him of her. And secondly, because he no longer endured to see the cruel world clearly. He wanted everything to become hazed - his life, the reality, what he had done. Everything should blur and then disappear at some point. The last few days he had let himself go in such a way that even a three-day beard had grown up to him. He no longer combed his hair backwards. For what purpose, anyway? He had taken time off at the GCPD, with the excuse that Ms. Kringel had left him and Gotham and he would need some time off. They had believed him immediately, after all, they knew how long he had been running after her. With a heavy heart, he hung up on his obscure thoughts while walking along the riverbank.
How many times the last few days had he wished just to slip by mistake and put an end to everything?
Then at least he would be with her now and could apologize. For he was sure she hadn't heard his countless screamed, regretful apologies. At that time, she had already been a lifeless corpse in his arms. But no matter how much he wanted to be with her, no matter how much he wanted to die – something wouldn't let him. A power in him. A someone in him.
Ed couldn't escape, not if it was still inside of him.
He was already back to his car when a person familiar to him walked past him. He could not see exactly who it was, but the pleasant smell seemed familiar to him. The walk, too. He wanted to shake off the thought, but something about the person kept him tied up.
He looked after them and watched in shock as they plunged down the abyss. An inner impulse drove him after that person. He wasn't really sure why. Did he want to join them and also plunge to his death? Or did he want to save them? He didn't know. Nor could the cold masses of water that swooped over him give him an answer to that.
The next thing he knew, was him standing in the hot shower of his apartment. He didn't know exactly how he had saved the person, nor did he know exactly why.
What he knew by now, however, was that the person was a man. Mister Penguin to be exact. He hadn't forgotten him, this little man who walked like a too proud penguin. The man who had something about him that made him aware even then. Aware of what exactly, he wasn't so sure. Something about him was ...like ... appealing. At least the other one in him was attracted to it.
At loss, he washed the cold of the dirty river off his body and glanced after the lonely drops of water. In this moment, the other man was lying in his bed. In that bed where he had placed the dead body of her. He was no longer sleeping there anyway, then he might as well leave it to the other. His guest needed it much more than him. Not only was he over-chilled and fainted, he also had hurt himself. It must have happened during the fall into the river, he had probably smashed his shoulder on the boulders in the water.
He didn't know exactly what to make of the new situation, a man in his bed – an extremely dangerous man as well. More dangerous than the dark side inside of himself. Maybe that's why his other part was so attracted to him. No matter how surreal the whole thing was after all, at least it distracted him. Of his own grim thoughts. He had someone to look after now.
Mister Penguin was now in his care and he couldn't sink into his own suffering. Later, perhaps, if he had done his moral duty and cared for him decently.
More relaxed and slightly more detached, he got out of the shower, dried himself off and put on fresh clothes. As he left the bathroom, his inner posture strained somewhat again. He listened attentively to the silence. Mister Penguin hadn't woken up yet. It was far too quiet for that. For several minutes, he stood undecided in the bathroom door, nervously kneading his hands. When still nothing was stirring after half an hour, he took a cautious step forward. And another one. Until he stood by the bed. He didn't know what was leading him here, but when he glanced at the sleeping face, he felt the bleeding crack in his heart. In the other man's fragile looking facial features, he recognized himself. Something on that strange face didn't let him go.
It looked so pain-distorted and yet there was a certain peacefulness on him. Maybe because he was dreaming. Maybe he dreamed of being dead. That's why the peacefulness.
Somewhat wistfully, Ed thought of what would happen if the other woke up and realized he was still alive. That he was still trapped in the cruel reality. With a shake of his head, he tried to push the thought aside. What was he thinking there? Maybe Mister Penguin didn't want to kill himself at all.
Maybe it had just been an accident.
'Don't try to lie to yourself ', he heard a quiet voice in his head.
'He's like us. Desperate. Broken. '
No! He didn't want to hear the voice at the moment. Honestly, never again!
Still, he couldn't take his look off his face. The black hair, that stuck in his face. The pointed nose, reminiscent of a beak. The small, narrow body, even more petite than most women he knew. Almost like a teenager. He had pulled him over today and even washed him off a little bit. He didn't have much to see, as he didn't wear his glasses. Even now, he had to take a closer look to better recognize the sleeping face. He was so close now that he could spot every single dark eyelash. He even felt the other's breath on his strangely tingling face. For hours he sat on the bedside like that and couldn't see himself fed up. With every minute, his quiet feeling in him grew louder and louder: They both felt the same. Loss.
Again and again he heard a quiet whimper from the pale lips, a quiet pleading.
"Mother."
It almost tore Edward's heart apart. How innocent could anyone possibly be? That - at such an adult age - he was still so attached to his mother? More than to his own life? It moved him deeply and stirred something within him that he hadn't felt since he was a child. A sense of family, security.
"Ssshhh," he breathed every time Mister Penguin whimpered again in panic, pleading for his mother.
"Shhh, Mister Penguin. Everything will be fine", he assured compassionately, stroking the sticking black hairstrands out of the ash-steered face.
He didn't know exactly how long he sat there when that face stirred all at once.
He quickly got up and grabbed his glasses in his drawer and sat back on the bed. Ready to act in case the other would get a seizure. It was clear to him that he shouldn't get that close to the other, and yet he didn't want to miss any reaction in his face.
That's why he needed his glasses. He was very aware of the fact, that he wasn't allowed to get so close to him now as before, if he didn't want to scare him away. He had already put his instruments on a side table, including medication, stun syringes and a glass of water. No matter what would happen, he wanted to be scrupulously prepared for everything.
~~~~~~~
Disoriented, Oswald opened his eyes and was frightened as a strangely smiling face grew ever closer to him. Terrified, he gasped for air as he realized that wasn't a nightmare.
"Hello sleepy head." He heard the other and he began to move abruptly.
"Where am I?" He stammered, demanding, trying to get away panic-stricken.
"Sudden moving and increased heart rate are counterproductive to the healing process!", he heard the strange, spectacled bird praying down and suddenly he saw a menacing syringe in his hand.
"No, no, don't kill me!", the injured man pleaded panicked, turning around wildly, as he already felt the cool needle in his skin.
"Apologies in advance!", he heard, as everything went black around him.
“Rest well, my feathered friend. We've got a long night ahead of us. "
'What the hell?!', were the last thoughts of the smaller man, that accompanied him into the darkness.
~~~~~~~
Smiling manically, Edward shifted the glasses higher on his nose after putting the syringe back and watched 'his feathered friend' intently. He didn't know what had just happened, but he did wear glasses again for the first time in a long time and he felt a little more like himself again. He had no idea how the other had made it, but all of a sudden Ed felt alive again. Perhaps, because those were the first words in days he had exchanged with a living human being.
His pulse beat was strangely elevated as he sat down on the bed edge and touched Mister Penguins neck with one hand to feel his pulse. His friend would sleep for a few hours more.
Too bad, he heard a voice in his head and he couldn't even really disagree this time.