Written for this prompt on Dreamwithdt:
Oswald's mother is killed in retaliation because of Oswald's involvement with the mob, you can choose who does it and why (Fish, Falcone, Maroni, no shortage of people who could turn on our Oswald...) Oswald is obviously devastated, especially so since his Mother was the only person he trusted and was remotely close to. No one shows up at the funeral. Except for Jim. Jim shows up to the funeral and finds a sobbing mess of an Oswald and tries to comfort him.
STORM
Storms were a constant in Oswald's Life.
His mother had told him it happened when he was born. It thundered when his drunken father fell dead, he a boy, just watching, leaving him and his mother to their own luck. A tempest struck when his 'friends' bullied, hurt and put him to his misery, several and several times. And it was a weather havoc the day he accidentally met Fish Mooney, and decided to join into the darkness for good.
As it was expected, then, rain poured wildly over him today, in the eerie atmosphere that was Gotham's trademark, at the city only graveyard, where he stood alone, still as the marble statues, quietly mourning his loss, supporting his frail form on his companion umbrella.
That was how the tall grave looking man found him, approaching cautiously, being there but still uncertain if it was wise for him to be.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Oswald!" He squeezed Oswald's shoulder lightly, but the shorter man didn't turn, simply murmuring a silent thank you.
His blue grey eyes were fixed on the grave before him, tears held secure because oh no, he couldn't give his enemies that fun. However, he was grateful James was there with him, his only true friend, risking his own safety for someone, of all people, so unworthy like him.
Indeed he felt the worthless man today. It hurt too much, too deep. His dear mother had her faults, but she was the only person to have truly loved him.
Oswald had done his best to keep her safe, away from the dirt world he lived in. But as it was, it proved to be impossible, and there he was, burying he. No one to love him at all.
A lightning crossed the sky, and he sensed the grip on his shoulder tightening, almost protectively. Oswald finally turned, meeting James' eyes, and something snapped inside of him.
Not everything was lost; and there was still someone to look after and protect from the dark. His light, Gordon.
The one he would not dare to lose.
Oswald forced a ghost of a smile, hunching a little more as he did it. "I am very grateful that you came, James. I really am." He took the hand resting on his shoulder, and boldly took it in his. "But it is not safe for you to be seen here with me."
Jim stared at him, seeming too much tired. "Tell me something I still don't know."
The blue eyes averted to the floor, while the rain subsided. A large hand touched his face, and Oswald quickly looked up again.
"I'll be right where I am, Oswald. I know you are in pain, and I'll not left you alone."
There he was, his only true friend, showing that sort of kindness that touched deep in him, something alien and new, precious and perhaps, undeserved. James' face was drawn in harsh lines, but Oswald could see there, in his eyes, worry, compassion, even a tiny glint of affection.
That, mixed with the intense pain he felt, forced, at last, the tears outside, against his own will.
Before Oswald could act against it, he was taken in Jim's secure embrace, cocooned against his chest, crying all his tears, while a caring voice breathed soothing words in his ears.
"James" he said between tears, "promise me you will stay quietly in Arkham, that you will not investigate it."
Jim stiffened. "I don't know if I can promise that, Oswald. Or if I can let you bring your own justice."
Oswald loosened the embrace, so he could face James as he spoke. "You must promise me. Please!" He was pleading, something akin to panic mixed with his pained sorrow. "I cannot lose you! You is everything I have now."
Oswald Cobblepot, the most dangerous being Jim had known in life, the one probably destined to take down the mob, was desperately begging him. The angelical face was contorted in anguish, forcing Jim to nod in agreement, bringing him closer again, kissing his forehead and say "It's okay, Oswald, I'll be quiet, for now. I promise."
This 'thing' between them, whatever it was, James thought in consternation, was becoming a lot more complicated than he wished it to be, or that he would be able to control in the future. Because if he doubted Oswald's intentions at first and second and third, he believed in him now.
"What now Oswald?" He asked, unconsciously resting his chin on the soaked mess of Oswald's hair. The younger man remained where he was, feeling as secure as he'd never felt before, taking his time to answer.
When he did, just separating enough to look again at Jim with those piercing seas of blue, determination returning fully, Jim started to believe he was truly lost.
"As I'd said, beloved friend, there's a war coming. I am destined to win this war, and I will" - he made a dramatic pause, and a small smile came - "but rest assured, I will keep you safe and I will help you to bring all of them down, James. Mooney, Falcone, all will fall by our hands."
Of two things then Jim was certain. One, Oswald loved him. Two, and worst of all, he was absolutely doomed.
The thunderstorm finally subsided, but Gotham's horizon never sounded darker.