Preface:

Due to current circumstances i wanted to share a few words in beforehand, since one of the main subjects of this story is suicide and depression.

If you struggle with depression and especially if you're dealing with suicidal thoughts seek help. Talk to people close to you. Seek professional help. Don't chose the easy way out - There will always be people loving you. People who'll you leave behind. You are not alone and you don't need to be alone. Don't give up, get help.

And now please enjoy the next chapter

When the night is dark

Chapter 4

The way you hate me

No word left the thin, rough and burst lips. For hours. After a while even the shaking had stopped. Only tears kept streaming down the white, hurt skin. But not a single word, nor even a sound was made by Oswald. Nothing. As if he was dead, if it wasn't for the tears, and his soft breathing. Ed didn't let him go either. He held him close in his arms, as to keep him safe. But how could anyone hold someone safe when he himself was the danger? He couldn't. And he couldn't see it. He didn't see what happened right below his nose. But it was visible. It happened in total silence. Oswald died. Not his body, but his mind. Ed finally broke him. He overstepped a line he didn't expect him ever to overstep. He didn't expect anyone to... One may say 'nothing really happened', but it did. It did happen. And if he didn't just stop breathing The Riddler would have brought it to an end. That despicable thing he was about to do. It wasn't about what happened any more, but about what he was capable of. The man that now clung to him as one would to a life belt may have been the man he once fell in love with. But the darkness inside of him had won. This all consuming darkness. That pure evil. Oswald never thought of himself as to be evil. Calculating - maybe, overly emotional - sure but never evil. There are borders in life you never cross. It didn't matter how many times Edward mumbled into his hair that he was sorry. In the contrary. It made it even worse. Why didn't he just step away? He didn't want to be near him. He didn't want to smell him, feel him – why wouldn't he just let him go? His thoughts went darker again, more focussed on himself. Why didn't he just drive off that bridge? Why couldn't he just have shot himself in the solitary of his living-room? Why had he needed to be so extra and dramatic? And how did Ed even know...? What were the odds (stupid) Nygma would be there, to fish him out of the water, to nurse him back alive? How... did he know?

"How'd you know?" he suddenly asked. His first question since hours. His voice dry as sandpaper.

A question that took Ed by surprise. "What do you mean?", he replied, relieved that Penguin had finally said something.

"...I was going to kill myself. That day. That place."

Edward froze at those words. His fingers unwittingly fondled the bent back beneath his arms. Oswald seemed so small compared to him, he noticed. He'd never seen the other man that... vulnerable. Somehow seeing his former friend that broken actually did hurt him. Sunk in his own thoughts it took him a while to answer. He felt so uncomfortable. Those words... '...I was going to kill myself...'

"I didn't." Nygma finally answered. "It was only a feeling. I knew you weren't well. And I thought if you'd do anything stupid it would be that night. I thought this would be one of a few nights in which you may be overly dramatic and emotional", Ed shrugged "So... I just kept an eye on you. I waited outside the mansion... and as you left I simply followed." Ed looked down at Oswald, who's dark hair fell lanky over his lowered eyelids. "Pretty sure my real self would have known. But to me: following you was my only option."

"All for revenge?"

Edward froze. His fingers stopped fondling on Oswalds back. "No." Slowly he lowered his head into those black strands of hair and got his lips near Penguins right ear. "I can't let you die." - and once more: He switched. "I need you alive, to become whole again." It was obvious. His voice had turned a whole lot darker and gravelly. This was the voice of the Riddler. Although he noticed the change, Oswald didn't even flinch.

"Back to finish what you've started?", he merely asked, in a sound of no emotions at all. His head still lowered he felt those strong fingers slightly swipe over his chin, until they eventually pushed Cobblepots head up again. The Riddler wanted to look into his enemies eyes.

"Not yet.", Edward smiled, as he surprisingly carefully touched those burst lips, which he loved to hear scream and to see twisted. Once again he appeared to be lost in his thoughts for a moment, as his hand wandered deeper, to Oswalds throat, to those red weals he left there... softly his fingers slipped around this thin neck, which would be so easy to break. Through that pale skin he could feel Penguins pulse softly throbbing. But the speed kept on a disappointing low level. To him this wasn't acceptable any more. He needed to feel the panic, he wanted to smell it, he yearned to see it in those blue eyes. Oswald had to look at him as if he was a nightmare he couldn't force himself to wakeup from. But now this man barely even noticed his existence. His lids half shut, almost bored. Anger rose in the riddlers heart.
"Say my name!", he demanded.

"Edward."

"No. That's not my name any more. You know that. Say my name." Edwards eyes turned darker at that moment.
"Your name is Edward Nygma. Always was. Always will be." Oswalds responded in a bored manner. He was tired of playing this stupid game. And he sure as hell would never say that stupid name. Ever. Even as the strong fingers choked his throat in shivering anger he kept a straight face. Why couldn't he just stop? Or at least finish this utterly idiotic charade?

"No! My name's the Riddler! You know that! SAY IT!", Edward spit in the tired face which he pulled so close to his own, that he could feel Cobblepots unagitated breath on his own lips. The former mayor suddenly tried to avert his gaze, deeply sighing.
"Will you kill me afterwards?", he now wanted to know. Oswald was so sick of this, he didn't want to fight him, he didn't need to win. He had won already. A long time ago. Putting Ed on ice, destroying his entire persona. That moment he had won. Now a shadow of a once great man sought revenge. A shadow with an annoying obsession for him. A shadow that'd haunt him eternally. A shadow of a past he did regret. He was sure now: in reality himself had been the one he'd put on ice.

"Is this what you wish for?"

"I only wish I could turn back time. And avoid ever running into you. Avoid falling in love with you. Avoid making you the man you are. That's what I wish for."

A strange smile lay on Oswalds thin lips, as he softly raised his hands to Edwards cheeks, caressing them. "...but that's not possible. So... dying 's the next best thing. So... yes.", he finally answered properly, as he pushed himself a little towards Ed, stealing a kiss from his lips – which definitely took him by surprise. Nygmas fingers immediately let go of Penguins neck, as he backed away.
"What do you think you're doing!?", he wanted to know.

"Giving in on your stupid games. So... let's play." The small man closed in again, following Ed on every inch and step he tried to get away. He didn't even notice that they'd left the bed while he retreated, closing in on the wall. Only as Oswald pushed his hands left and right from him against it, nailing him there. That small man never seemed intimidating to him – this was a first. Edward din't even recognize the man in front of him. No smile. No warmth in the sea of blue his eyes were. No feeling at all. Only his gestures resembled the man he knew. Was this the man he truly was inside? The man that's put a fork in someone's head? The man that would club someone to death and shove an umbrella down his throat? Did this man truly have another face, hidden deep down beneath a surface of overly acted smiles, sarcastic comments and eye-rolling? A man without fear? Edward would never admit this to himself, but he felt a strange heat rising up inside of him – and mostly somewhere around his loin. Was this even possible? Did the sight of a man – no – this man as cold, as cruel and calculating as he acted now turn him on? Did Oswald just play a game with him right now? Was this his true face which he'd never shown him, as long as he had loved him? A face he probably had never shown to anyone? Did he just reveal himself? Or did Edward make him that man? Did it only just happen? It was a mystery. He had to know!

"Who... are you?", was the only confused question he could make up, when he noticed a very dangerous smile on the man in front of him.

"Me? I am the man that has no feelings to offer you, at all.", Oswald whispered, as he closed in even further, pushing his own body against Edwards. For his height he was strong and managed to nail that tall body against the wall. Again reaching for Eds lips, opened in confusion, as it seemed. But he stopped right before they met.

"Don't be surprised. That's a first for me, either.", Oswald whispered, as his nose touched the other man's, being vague whether he was talking about being emotionless or about kissing. The Riddler didn't even dare to move at that sight. He felt himself in a position he didn't like but yet strangely enjoyed, going by the traction he noticed between his own legs and the heat flushing his cheeks. What was this? What was going on with him? He wanted to have this man scream. He wanted him bent and flinching, he wanted to see his pain no matter what the cost. If anything he wanted to satisfy himself on Oswalds suffering. This was a kind of lust he did not expect. Their lips didn't touch, yet the speed of his breath increased heavily by the thought of it. That was not right. He did not want to kiss Penguin. Neither romantically nor erotically and yet he yearned for the touch of them. That's when he pushed Oswald away, with brutal force. That sudden movement backwards made him stumble over his bad knee – and fall hard to the floor. Nygma soaked air through his grinding teeth, clenching his fists.

"How dare you?" He jumped him, pushed the small body heavily to the ground and fixed him there. "You're not in the position to act like this, Oswald." But the small man just smiled, calculating.

"I know, I know", Cobblepot merely sighed. "You want to take the lead in this so badly. You have to compensate quite a lot, don't you?" A dry laugh left those so tempting lips. But they surely weren't tempting enough as the Riddler struck them without any mercy.
"Shut up! You want to provoke me, so I'll kill you?", Ed hissed as he rose his fist above Oswalds head, of whose mouth blood was streaming already. But he only laughed. "SHUT UP!", His fist rushed down. Smashed into the ground right next to the crime-lords head – who felt a blow but didn't even flinch.

"Stop looking at me like this. STOP IT!", Edward nearly screamed. He couldn't take this. He knew that man. They'd been best friends. He knew him inside out. But him he didn't know. He wanted Oswalds eyes to be filled with emotions. "Love me, hate me. I don't care, but don't be... nothing." Edwards voice turned softer, nearly pleading. That cranky voice was finally leaving, bringing back the man Penguin really wanted to talk to.

"Let me got, Ed.", he now asked, in a much softer voice than before. Even his expression had immediately changed, back to all that pain and sadness he truly felt, back to... was this care for Edward? The way Oswald now looked at the man dressed all in green was very different from before. Covered in his own blood, which was still streaming over his lips, with his swollen cheeks, and a black eye that started to darken, his face still showed so many feelings, but mostly worry. Worry for his old friend... "Please..."

"I... can't." Ed answered immediately, as he jumped up and literally fled the room.

Oswald noticed the door being locked from the outside. Several times. Now he was left on his own.

It took a while until he was finally able to pick himself up and to start roaming the room. Slowly limping he inspected every inch, in search of an escape, or a weapon – at least anything useful. Ed had done a pretty good job in recreating the room they once shared. That he had to admit. Gloomy his eyes wandered the pictures, the bed, the piano. Many memories lived with that sight, although it was only fake. His fingers wandered along the table they've had dinner so many nights, after Edward returned from his work at the GCPD. Chinese takeout, mostly. Yet it he enjoyed every second of those meals. Another sad smile snuck onto his lips, as he returned to the bed searching for the squished crumbles and remains of that toast he tried to eat earlier. - Well that didn't look edible any more, but it had to do. So as if he'd lost all dignity Oswald scratched the remains off the floor and sheets, eating what he could eat. He struggled chewing, for his jaw and teeth were pretty much damaged and his cheeks swollen. But he tried. Pain-tears left his eyes as he ate. Crouching on the floor, shoving squished toast crumbs between his lips Penguin felt the humiliation creeping up his spine. This situation... him, completely out of any control, drove him crazy. At least he now knew he still was able to put his spell on Nygma. With the Riddler not being in charge, or merged with Edward there was part of that person left he once loved – maybe still – no. No that ship just sailed. Oswald corrected his own thoughts. And that person was weak. That person still cared for Cobblepot as he did for him. But it would take him a lot of strength to turn the tables. It would take a lot of energy to change the game, to set some new rules – his rules. It would take so much from him. Energy Oswald couldn't bring up any more...

'I hope you know, Oswald... I'd do anything for you.' he recalled the words Edward said to him after he'd nearly been killed by Butch. And today? This anything had turned real badly. Especially since the past hours. But maybe it had been a lie all from the start. He couldn't tell no longer. Everything seemed to be in doubt. Everything he ever believed and cared for slid through his fingers, vanishing into nothingness. Oswald climbed the bed, slipping under the covers, hiding himself there. There was a lot of now dried blood. Some stains began to widen as silent tears fell down onto the sheets. He felt so tired. Too tired to roam around once more. His body felt numb and petrified. Exhaustion took over his badly hurt body. The concussion still caused his head trouble in form of a badly ache. Slowly his eyelids shut and Oswald gave up on his guard, as he slipped into a bad dream.

It seemed as if he wasn't to find any rest at all. Neither awake nor asleep.

Nightmares followed his every step.

And he only wanted to rest...