Chapter 1: Living here without you

Authors note: Yes people I know it has been almost a year since I posted my final chapter of my other story. I have been meaning to write this for AGES but never had any real motivation till now. I hope you can all forgive me! And I'd like to thank nadillaandlaprasthefireandicefor not only giving me the motivation to get back into writing, but also for making a story featuring Abigail Nighting! Please check it out and give her your support! Thank you all! And I hope you like this story just as much as the first one! Set 20 years after the events of 'Song of the Nightingale'. Oh and a final thing... this is still based on the BTAS Penguin! I have made references to the 'New Batman adventures' events but I am also changing things to keep it in the BTAS universe. Anyway now I have cleared that up... enjoy!

Five years. It's a long time to live without someone whom you have come to love. Well that is exactly what happened to me. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, I never once dreamed of living alone. But five years ago my life was changed forever. My wife, Abigail Cobblepot (previously Nighting), was taken away from me five years to the day from a lucky burglar who shot her dead in our own bedroom when she caught him trying to rob our safe. They never caught him of course. And ever since that painstaking day, I have never once shown any true happiness. There really isn't anything to be happy about. No, my mind is too consumed with being left alone to run our business that I don't really care about pleasure anymore. The only pleasure I had in life was taken from me five years ago.

It's been around twenty years since the time I met her; I still remember the first time I had laid my eyes on her. So defenceless against those two blasted thugs who tried to mug and kill her, but I hardly knew at the time that she would change my entire life for the better. Around ten years ago we finally reformed and decided to stay clear away from crime for good. We opened a nightclub or just a club if you wish to call it that, and called it the 'Iceberg Lounge'. It became our little business for members of the upper classes to come and have a good time among friends, but of course from time to time it became a hangout place for some of the newer and older Rogues of Gotham city.

Then there came the most painful day of my entire life, to lose my wife to a mere bullet. It was, and still is unbearable. These days I try to avoid making public appearances and often confide myself to my own solitary confinement. Call it grieving if you will, but many rumours often circulated from nosy customers and stuck up reporters because of this.

But I still have my comforts in life besides my birds. Jason Partridge, my personal assistant since Abigail's death, has been a tremendous help on running my business in my absence. I also still remain close with various past allies in my days as the Penguin. The majority have also joined me and gave up their pursuit of crime, except a few who seriously have issues, Mr. Freeze, Two-face and Killer Croc being examples. And there are others who simply went missing, Joker and Harley Quinn spring to mind, after a rather large incident a few years ago concerning a nuclear bomb and a big showdown on national television with them versus Batman, Batgirl and Robin as I recall from various news reports. And of course I also owe some sort of credit to the Batman, who went off my case permanently after I reformed. He even dropped by and supported me when Abigail died.

And of course society has changed over the past 20 years. No longer are there as many criminals as back in my day as the Penguin, sure there is still a lot of crime about but no where near as much as there used to be. I guess the criminals, like me, simply got bored with Batman's vigilante antics and merely moved away to other cities; other cities where cape and cowls aren't the prevailing fashion and vigilantes don't exist in the forms of bats. And of course Commissioner Gordon retired two years ago at the age of 72 and a new Commissioner came into action called Commissioner Bennett, he of course doesn't appreciate Batman as much as Gordon did, but that doesn't concern me anymore. I gave up the alias of the Penguin a long time ago.

Today was just your average day of running the business. It was merely 2 o'clock in the afternoon and we didn't open the doors of the Iceberg Lounge until 5. That gave me plenty of time to simply be alone with my dear birds or just by myself…well that was until two very close friends of mine came around rather unexpectedly to visit me.

…

I sat at my desk in my office signing various forms regarding catering, entertainment contracts and other various paper works' which all concerned all your average essential needs to run a club like the Iceberg Lounge. But like always my minds often wondered off into another world as I often got bored rather easily simply filling in bits of paper with a pen. My eyes darted around the room at my arctic décor, as my entire club was decorated, and pondered on various thoughts. Did the birds need feeding? Were my staff preparing for this evening? Would any of those damn reporters insist on getting an exclusive interview with me again concerning my personal life? Oh the joys of being a restaurateur. But it still wasn't the same without my dear Abigail being able to share these tasks with me.

My immediate attention was automatically gained as a sudden yet gentle knock on the door startled me from my thoughts, I raised my head as one of my employees opened the door ajar and popped her head through cautiously. I smiled and adjusted my monocle as she entered and placed both of her arms together as she smiled rather shyly.

"Sir, your friends Mr. Nygma and Mr. Crane have come round to visit you, would you like me to send them in?" She asked me briefly turning her head away towards the door then back to me again. She was one of my newer employees, Isabel Larkin, whom I nicknamed her Lark from time to time after the bird. She like my other female employees seem to be rather timid and shy toward me, but I guess it is because of my past reputation and the way I treated women if they ever double crossed me. For example, I kidnapped Veronica Vreeland back in my younger days for double crossing me, as you probably already know. But if they were like that around me, imagine how they'd be like around the Joker. Presuming he's still alive of course.

"Of course Isabel send them in," I replied cheerfully. She nodded and left the room briefly to call in my guests. I simply took my monocle out of my right eye to wipe on my black waist jacket before placing it back there again. A few seconds later the door re-opened and two middle aged tall distinguished gentlemen walked into the room casually grinning as they approached me. I simply stood from my chair and went to shake their hands as a greeting.

"Ozzy! How you doing you old feather brain?" Edward Nygma, who used to be known as the Riddler patted my shoulder as I made my way around the desk to lead my guests to the other room. Unlike many other numerous old acquaintances' I have, Nygma still likes to think he's still the ultimate genius and still has that self righteousness he always had back in his day. He had lost none of his intellect too, actually, all I can say is the only thing he has lost over the years is his hair colour. But I can talk; no longer do I have that long glossy black hair I used to have as my days as the Penguin. Now it is more like shorter and greyer. But despite his aging process Edward can still act like a snotty child at school when he tries to prove others wrong; typical Nygma. Also, his fashion sense still has something to be desired… would you believe the man still wears green suits? Talk about standing out in a public place.

"Same old, same old," I replied plainly "I find running my business rather lacking at times, it is lucky I have Jason and my staff to help me."

"Yeah, well you sure did this place up well, what was this building before it became the Iceberg Lounge?" Nygma enquired as we all sat around the table in the private room next to my office, where a selection of drinks were placed at the centre of the table. Of course Nygma helped himself but Jonathan, who still hadn't said a word, kept his hands placed on a book and didn't even pass a glance toward the drinks.

"I recall it was an abandoned warehouse," I raised my deformed hand to straighten my top hat on my head and then placed it back on the table comfortably. "I agree, we did an excellent job at renovating this place."

"I recall hiding out here once," Jonathan finally spoke up "It was a long time ago but I still remember, this is where I got Batgirl with my fear toxin and she almost fell to her death."

That was when it all went rather silent. Me and Edward simply stared blankly at Jonathan, yet another genius but nothing like Nygma. No Crane still did experiments with fear, but not ones like he did when he was the Scarecrow. No now he was restricted to a lab and was limited with what he could do. He was declared mentally sane around seven years ago and like me and Nygma, tried to resume a normal life. He, now dedicated his life to research, just as I to my club and Nygma to his self-built company.

"So how is your wife Nygma?" I enquired "She well?"

"Quite thanks," Edward replied taking a rather large sip of his drink before continuing his sentence "our son is going to college next term."

"That soon?" I felt my eyes widen in surprise "It doesn't seem like yesterday that he was just a toddler." It was true; after the Riddler reformed he met a woman and settled down with her and soon had a child. That was one privilege I never had in life, me and Abigail never had any children to raise. Just as well, raising a child in this city is not a good idea, especially back in my day with rabid inmates from Arkham and Stonegate running around.

"Time flies," Edward stated simply. I then turned my head in the direction of Jonathan and smiled curiously.

"What about you Jonathan? How's the research coming along?"

"Oh I have had several breakthroughs concerning my research since the last time we talked Oswald," I noticed Crane was fidgeting with the book he had brought with him. I knew he wanted to say something but like always Crane was a silent type, a lot quieter than Nygma.

"Dr. Crane here has published a book," Edward smirked poking a gloved thumb in Jonathan's direction in a quirky manner as Jonathan passed the book to me to have a quick read. I adjusted my monocle to read the front cover and the blurb aloud.

"The truth behind the fear, by Dr. Jonathan Crane," I read aloud and quickly flicked through the book curiously taking in odd words as I skimmed through the pages and its contents "this is really good Jonathan. But that is to be expected by the professor of psychology."

"Former professor," Crane corrected much to my surprise "the university never reinstated me after what happened when I became the Scarecrow."

We sat in a rather uncomfortable silence yet again as each of us tried to figure out a topic to discuss. We hadn't spoken for a while and I figured we would have a lot of catching up to do, but it turned out not to be the case. I noticed Nygma's eyes dart around the room obviously in deep thought but when his eyes landed on a particular object for quite a while I turned around to see what he was staring at and my heart suddenly dropped and a small frown appeared on my features. And it didn't help my situation with what Nygma was about to say next, as a matter of fact it made it ten times worse.

"So…" Edward said rather uncomfortably "how long has it been now?"

I instantly got what he was implying. After all I caught him staring at that portrait of Abigail behind me. It was the first one that I ever saw of her the night I saved her, the one taken before her accident. My head dropped down as I just gazed at the table blankly. I finally got the courage to reply to Nygma's query but it took a lot of guts to get my words out.

"Five years to the day on Friday," I felt my hands tremble just talking about it. Both Nygma and Crane went silent until Crane this time tried to break the tension rapidly building in the room.

"Such a shame, she was a miraculous woman," Jonathan said rather mournfully.

"Yes, I still remember the first time she appeared on the news," Edward reminisced "blew up Batman's car and almost killed him, if only she did. It would've made our situations so much easier."

I remained silent while they continued to praise my dead wife for her actions as the Nightingale. They didn't realize that even bringing her up in a conversation still hurt me tremendously. Sure it had been five years and most people usually get over deaths by this length of time, but not me. I will never get over her death, not until I join her that is.

"Are you going up to the cemetery?" Crane asked me and I nodded sadly.

"Yes, I ordered some flowers from the shop at the end of Hill street, which I shall pick up on Friday," I explained still feeling that dry lump rise in my throat. The room went deadly silent again and both Nygma and Crane gazed at the floor awkwardly. I briefly turned my head around and stared directly up at the portrait of Abigail. She looked so young and beautiful having her precious honey buzzard Claw perched on her arm, it often made me wonder how such a woman like her ever fell for a man like myself. Perhaps I was fortunate, or perhaps it was pure luck. But deep down I knew it was the cause of true love.

I still remembered the night Claw finally passed from this world; it was during the first year of our reform. Claw was an old bird by then, around 20 years of age to be precise. He had tremendous health issues and there was no more we could do for him. Poor Abigail was devastated to part with him; he was her companion, her friend. But she never had to fear of never seeing him again. I allowed him to be stuffed, usually I'm not into taxidermy, except in rare or extinct birds that is, but this was something which needed to be done. I still have him today, in my office on my bookshelf.

"I heard Ivy opened a flower shop," Jonathan finally spoke changing the subject yet again to make the situation less tense, but it didn't really work on me. I still felt rather miserable from the previous subject. I still couldn't believe it was five years on Friday since she died.

"What a surprise," Edward exclaimed throwing his hands in the air dramatically "that woman was always plant mad. I'm surprised she isn't still at Arkham along with Two-face, Killer Croc and Mr. Freeze."

"Moved to Metropolis apparently," Crane continued glancing down at his book not even paying attention to Edward "I guess after what happened to Quinn and Joker she had no reason to stay in Gotham. Everyone knew those two were closer than peas in a pod."

"Speaking of whom," Edward took a brief sip of his drink again "did they ever find the bodies?"

"Of who? Joker and Harley Quinn?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so," Jonathan continued "I guess only Batman really knows if they are dead or alive, and that man will soon be like us old dodderers."

"I'll tell you something Crane," Edward nudged him "the day Batman decides to give up the cape and cowl, is the day I'll stop wearing my old Riddler suit to the mall."

"That'll be a first," Jonathan muttered smirking only to get a death glare in return from Edward.

Both men suddenly stopped talking and glanced over in my direction. They had noticed I had gone silent and I could sense tension yet again. Perhaps it was a mistake to have friends over today.

"Listen Ozzy," Edward began rather slowly "you want us to leave you alone?"

"Sorry gentlemen," I apologised "I guess after our discussion about Abigail I don't feel up to socializing. It's is but a week till the anniversary of the worst day of my life and I guess I don't have time to be happy."

"We understand," Jonathan said. Both watched me cautiously as my head didn't rise from staring at the table for all of that time. I didn't like to disagree with my friends but I am afraid they are wrong. They don't understand how it feels to lose a loved one. Edward has a wife and son to provide for and Jonathan never got married or had any children, if anything he was married to his work. But I… I am just a widower with no loved ones to comfort me in my grieving. I am but a shell of the man I used to be. All of my life I was discarded from person to person, used by my peers for sick schemes and pranks or just told what to do by my own parents. Then when I finally settled down to spend the rest of my life with the woman I loved she was taken from me by some trigger happy robber. So what the people now say is true. The Penguin man who owns the Iceberg Lounge does have a tale of woe. He isn't as heartless as everyone used to believe.

I noticed Edward swiftly rise from his seat despite my gaze still fixed on the table. Jonathan soon followed suit and stood up not ten seconds after Edward. I remained silent and didn't bother to look up. I wasn't trying to be ignorant to my guests; I just didn't feel like speaking.

"We'll leave you in peace," Edward explained as both men headed towards the door. I didn't raise my head but briefly nodded to acknowledge their departure.

"Nice speaking with you Oswald," Jonathan spoke as both finally left the room. Outside the door both men began to talk, and although they didn't realize it, I heard their murmurs.

"Poor man," I heard one of them say "still heartbroken after all of these years."

"Yes, he is but a shadow of his former self after his wife died."

"I can only hope something really worth while happens to that man."

Finally the voices died away and all that was left was silence yet again. I finally lifted my head upwards and decided to arise from the table. I grabbed my umbrella which I now used as a walking stick. Oh doesn't age happen gracefully? And I managed to hobble into the other room again. I made my way over to the window and gazed out of the window into the new Gotham city. It was around the time of day when children of all ages would be coming out of school, and just by coincidence today was the start of the summer break for all of them. That meant street crime would be up over 15%. I just hoped Batman had enough strength left in the old coot to fight a couple of teenage hooligans.

But of course that didn't concern me. I lost all interest in crime related incidents and the Batman a long time ago. Not only did I pay over the years for my crimes, but I watched many others whom I got acquainted with, through crime, pay the consequences for their actions also. In more extreme ways than mine too. For example, many years ago, in my final years as the Penguin, I witnessed Arnold Wesker, also known as the Ventriloquist get shot and killed when his little puppet Scarface messed with the wrong organization. I wasn't there at the time, but I saw things I wished, and still wish, I had never seen. And another known person to pay for all the misery he caused was none other than Rupert Thorne himself, who finally got gunned down by Two-Face several years ago, the last time he escaped from Arkham. Served him right if you asked me. I always hated Thorne, and so did Abigail. Oh dear... I mentioned her again didn't I?

I finally dragged myself away from the window and hobbled over to my desk again. I sat and placed my flipper-like hand on my forehead and rubbed it gently. It was a sign I was getting old and crippled. Oh those truthful but sorrowful words I used to describe myself. Old, crippled and alone. Yes... alone. I guess I am still paying for my own crimes. And while death wasn't my fate like so many other criminals, being unable to share my sorrow and grief with anyone was. Is this to be my never ending punishment? Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. Fate was never good to me in the first place. Why should things suddenly change for the better now?

Grabbing a pen with one hand and a single sheet of paper with another, I gazed down at the piece of paperwork before me. It was concerning the catering staff's hygiene report, which I had already overlooked not but two days ago. Showed how unorganized and slow I was when it came to filling out forms. That's why I always left this to Abigail when she was alive. She was always more organized than I was. Gripping the pen tightly I felt the urge to fill in my signature, but something was preventing my pen from touching the paper. It was me. I knew I was in no mood to do this today of all days. Especially after what was just said with Nygma and Crane in the room.

I eventually gave into my own will and dropped the pen out of my hand. I then pulled my chair back slightly and opened the drawer of the desk I was sitting at and pulled out something before placing it shut again. It was a picture frame. I gazed at it sorrowfully with a small sad smile on my features as my shaky hands pulled it up to rest on the desk. I simply sat there for an endless amount of time staring longingly at the picture frame. It brought back so many memories of my past. It was a picture of me and Abigail on our wedding day. A happy time! Around a year after our reform to be exact. When she no longer had the mental or physical scars of being the Nightingale. The time after she had undergone treatment and therapy along with out reforming sessions. The time when she finally went back to being the same woman I fell in love with.

"Five years my love," I whispered sadly not taking my eyes off of the picture for a second "not a day goes by that I don't think about you. I just wish you were still here to grow old with me."

As a single flipper-like hand caressed the frame gently, my attentions were once again taken from my own thoughts and brought back to reality. A swift knock at the door alerted my head as it shot up from staring at the photograph, which I simply placed back on the table and clasped my hands together expectantly. The person at the door was none other than Isabel again, this time more alerted and, so it seemed to me at least, rather agitated.

"Yes what is it Isabel?" I asked with a small unnoticeable frown on my face. I always hated it when people interrupted my train of thought. And if happened too often. But that was because I tried to be alone while running my own business, which of course is a silly thing to do when you are a restaurateur.

"Sir," she began clearing her throat before continuing "one of your health inspector's has come for a up-to-date sixth monthly inspection, and to collect the documents you were meant to sign over two days ago."

"Damn," I cursed aloud looking down at the unfilled forms on my desk. I then gazed back at Isabel who was awaiting my instructions rather too eagerly. "Tell him I will be down in five minutes after I finish off filling them in."

"Yes sir," she said then departed hurryingly forgetting to shut the door. I then grabbed my pen and began filling the forms in as fast as I was able. Guess this taught me to not put filling my documents off for several days. But I did have a valid reason to do this. It was after all, the five year anniversary of my wife's murder on Friday. And it was Monday already. I would be like this all week. Distant, untalkative, anti-social. Well... more so than usual anyway. I would want to be alone mainly this week just to get over my sorrow and grieving in my own way. What happened with Crane and Nygma, two of my closest friends, would be the way I would be with everyone else this week. And most people would understand, but there would be the occasional person who had no emotions to speak of who would think of me as a rude gentleman. But this was a week I hardly cared. I had more occupational thoughts on my mind than to care about ignorant, self-centred, higher class people.

After placing my final signature down on the last section of the document concerning the club being free of rats and pesticides, I arose from my seat and placed my hand on the table to gain balance so I didn't fall over. Grabbing my umbrella I waddled over to the door with the documents in hand and was about to head out to see this health inspector. I wasn't in the mood for this, not today. But I had no choice. If I wanted to keep my business open, the owner of the restaurant would have to make an appearance every now and then. This was something I couldn't leave up to Jason, sadly.

Before departing off down the hallway I turned my gaze one last time into the room and my eyes fell on that picture on my desk. I smiled sadly as the picture gazed back at me with a flashing and beautiful smile. A sudden sense of longing jumped back on me again. Oh how I wanted, more than anything else in this world, to go back to that day. Back when times were simple and full of love. Now my day's were empty and full of sorrow and loss. And so they will be till all of my suffering comes to a big halt and my remaining day's end. But until that day comes... Oswald Cobblepot will be the bird who lost everything and gained nothing back.

"You coming sir?" A voice from down the hallway called me softly. I turned my head away from the inside of my office and nodded gently as I placed a final glance at the picture on the desk before slowly making my way down to conduct business with this health inspector. Best get this out of the way with and then go back to my own little world. For that was the only place I could escape the pain and suffering grips of reality. The only place... that kept me sane.

Authors note: Now I know what you're thinking and please, oh please don't kill me! Abigail's death is crucial for the events of this story! It did pain me to kill her off. But she WILL be a frequent character later on! And the next chapter will feature some new characters along with our middle aged Bruce Wayne himself. The story itself should develop shortly and a lot of flashbacks will happen! In the meantime though, please tell me what you think in a review! I really appreciate feedback! Thank you all for being so patient and I'll update soon! This time I promise!