Work Text:
The breeze chilled the sweat on Jim's temples, as he looked out over Gotham. He had been leaning against his car at the docks for roughly ten minutes. It was a weekend, so the area wasn't in use, and there certainly wouldn't be anyone in the parking area. It was relatively quiet, and somewhat distanced from the bustle of the city. The cement ended at an abrupt drop off into the river. The air smelled like salt, fuel, and garbage. It was noxious even by Gotham standards.
Jim heard Penguin's car pull up behind him. He wasn't entirely certain why he had called Oswald. He supposed the criminal had always been a thorn in his side, a menace to the city. Oswald was also part of him in a strange way. He was there from the beginning of the end. This was only poetic.
Penguin's car door opened and closed. "Jim" Oswald began impatiently as he approached. "What could possibly warrant my presence at such a fine hour?" His voiced was laced with it's typically sarcasm.
Jim turned to look at him, and when the two made eye contact, Jim felt sick to his stomach. Oswald didn't look like a monster. Maybe that was a deception. Jim didn't feel anger in that moment, he only felt doubt. Perhaps he should simply get in his car and drive back to work. But then the thoughts in Jim's mind returned. The same ones that had been haunting him for the past few months.
So you thought you could win? You though you could put on your suit, and carry your gun- with all your skill and good intentions. You thought you could change things. You have to change things. Because you're like a shark. You have to keep moving. If you stop, you'll die. There's nothing more inside of you than the water and space that passes though you. But eventually you reach the end, you run out of half baked principles. There's nothing left to occupy your head. Nothing left to fight against- nothing left but you- and you're not worth living for.
Jim sauntered to the edge of the concrete ravine, and gazed down at the black, polluted water. Penguin followed and was now standing only a foot away, which made it easy for Jim to firmly put a hand on the other's shoulder.
"Jim?" Oswald repeated. He didn't sound sarcastic or impatient his time, he sounded concerned.
Jim turned to look in his enemy's eyes. Oswald stared back, questioningly. Or, maybe with concern, or was it fear? It reminded him of the time he met Oswald in a place much like this, when Jim nearly killed him. But he didn't, because then Jim was the good guy. Then he still thought there was good in Penguin. He still though there was good in the world. Now, when he looked deeply in the man's eyes he still didn't see evil. There was oy a reflection of the world. There was a reflection of Jim.
Oswald made an expression like he was going to ask a question, but he wasn't sure how to phrase it. Maybe Oswald saw something in Jim's eyes too. It didn't matter. Jim had already changed his mind. Jim smiled at his friend. It wasn't a happy smile, he didn't just have a profound realization. It was just recognition, and acceptance. Oswald smiled back, still confused. Jim patted Oswald on the back, then let his hand fall to his side. He steped over the edge.