When the night is dark

Chapter 5

Nightmares

Oswald sat in a white room. Crouched to fit in. It was like a box. Tight. Taking his breath away. As suddenly that little room erupted and then... moved. His fingers tried to keep him in one position, tried to grab the white, flat walls. He braced his hands and feet against the walls, as the small room started to roll overhead. The fourth time around his shanking hands couldn't hold him any further, which left him dropping against the ceiling head first. As the spinning finally stopped Oswald laid in the box, on his back, his feet pressed against the ceiling, his face in pain – as the box suddenly unfolded. And directly in front of him he saw a familiar face: Edwards. Only it was as huge as a house and Oswald sat in the palm of Eds hand. Crawling backwards he tried to flee the strong breath, which blew around him like a storm. "Hello, old friend!" - Nygmas voice was so deep. The bass so strong it nearly burst the small body in his palm, who now stood up and started to run. For the first time in years without limping. He ran - until two giant fingers made him fall. Whilst the fingers lifted Oswald, they brutally crushed his leg again. Penguins screams were silent, drowned out by a deep "I want to destroy you". Suddenly Ed flipped the miniature body into the air, in an attempt to catch him with his mouth and – oh my god! No!
Just before Oswald entered Edwards mouth he awoke with a start, screaming, completely soaked with sweat, sitting up. It took a few moments, until he realised that this had only been another nightmare. As every time, when he closed his eyes. He tried to calm himself, breathing deeply. Sharply in- and exhaling the cold air. Eventually he realised he was still imprisoned in Edwards strange scenario-room. Probably left for dead. That's when he suddenly noticed a plate on the bed. Nygma had food prepared. Plenty of it. Oswald tried to remember when he had last cooked for him, but he couldn't. Not only was there food, but also a note, next to a pill – and he wasn't even cuffed to the bed again. Penguin slid to the tablet and read the note with caution.

'Entree: Garlic bread

Main: Duck on red wine sauce,

Dessert: A collection of international sweets.

The pill won't kill you, just help you sleep.

P.S. Please change the sheets and put the dirty ones by the door.

And take a shower.

You'll find fresh sheets and clothing in the wardrobe.'

And no riddle at all. Oswald checked the notes back to be sure.
Hesitating, he put the pill on the cupboard, to keep it there for later – only then started to eat. It was delicious. Filling his tummy with warm, good food – something he really had missed. Edward even left a bottle of wine for him to drink. At the beginning he felt not really comfortable eating and drinking what Nygma had provided him – but the feeling left after a while. He even did what he was told and changed the sheets, soaked in blood and sweat, to leave them by the door. But no one came. Penguin put new sheets on the bed and then limped slowly into the bathroom. Indeed he felt dirty and sticky. Ed had provided him with a suit and a couple of pyjamas. The situation only seemed to grow stranger as he could have imagined it to become. But all worries aside the hot water on his pale skin eased pain and sorrows at least for a moment. His fingers slid over the cool tides, supporting his body as he leaned his head against the wall. The waters rush even seemed to drown out not only all sounds around him, but his own dark thoughts. Only for a second Oswald Cobblepot felt in peace with himself. His eyes fell shut, as he stood there, enjoying the hot water flowing over his body.

Suddenly a strong hand pressed his head against the wall. He felt a huge body in his back – but couldn't turn his head to look. A hand, covered in a black leather glove, grabbed his wrists, keeping them together over Oswalds head. Water ran into his eyes, as he tried to see what was going on – unable to move, paralysed. He didn't move at all. He only noticed his black hair sticking at the tiles, as a pair of lips closed in on his ear. "Got you where I wanted you.", Nygmas voice hissed, in a dark laughter. With a sudden move Oswald took all his strength to push the man away, his arms were flailing in the air – as there was no one with him. He was all alone in the bathroom – no trace of Nygma. He felt as if he'd just waken up from a microsleep, by the feel of falling... Out of breath Oswald raked his fingers through his black hair, whilst his shaking knees gave in on his weight. Slowly sinking onto the floor he now covered his face with his hands – and cried as silently as possible... Now his nightmares even followed him into his days... he felt embarrassed for crying, but couldn't help. Penguin clung his arms around his knees, hiding his head in-between. Hot water still ran upon his body and head, hiding all those tears he didn't want to see himself.

Two hours had passed and the water long since turned cold. He was shaking. Barely noticing the sound of the locks of the door being opened. For a second he tried to move, but couldn't – and it took only a couple of seconds for Edward to come in and turn off the water. Both kept silent. But it was obvious by the look of Nygmas face, that he had a lot to say – yet didn't. Instead he took a huge towel and put it over Oswalds shoulders and head, covering him completely in the soft fabric. Edward slowly dried the black hair, before he pulled the smaller man up, to make him stand. Penguins body had turned way too cold, Nygma noticed, as he towelled down the thin, small body, that shook so heavily, with lips all blue and skin completely soaked. As he was finished he lifted Oswald into his arms. Without any further warning or words he carried him back to bed. Edward knew his former friend didn't really notice him... his eyes... he was so absent and tired, as if he was dreaming with open lids... So he did what he could to get that small body warm again, tucked him in, and brought hot tea, as well as a hottie. But as Oswald just wouldn't stop shaking he decided to lay down next to him, to keep him warm. It was a weird situation. Edward felt no need for revenge at this moment. No tension, nothing. His only concern was with Oswalds temperature. If only for a moment...

Another two hours passed, until Penguin finally woke up from his day-dream. He felt so safe and warm. Warm breath met his neck and made its way down his back. Two strong arms kept him safe in a warm embrace. Oswald felt a soft, steady heartbeat against his back. Was this Edward? What was he doing? Was he really spooning him? A second flew by until Oswald rushed forwards, in an attempt to flee. But he wouldn't get far, as the grip of Nygmas hands tightened and kept him where he was. "Calm down.", the cool voice only said. Ed noticed the pale shoulders starting to shiver again, but not for the cold. He pulled the blanket back up to Oswalds chin. His fingers carefully brushed the now dry black hair. Eventually he let him go, to sit himself up.

"I had to get your body warm again. You were alarmingly cold.", he clarified. "Did you attempt to hurt yourself?"

Oswald only shook his head. His voice was weak, barely recognizable "No..."

He felt Edwards eyes on his back, as he curled up a little more.

"You... attacked me.."

"I did nothing of that sort."

"Liar."

"I meant: Not while you were in the shower. I'm not a pervert."

"Another lie...", a heavy sighing came over Penguins lips. His fingers were digging deeply into his own arms.

/Look at this, Ed. We made it! He's completely broken./ Ed tried to shake off the voice inside his head as he laid his hand on Oswalds clenched fingers, trying to ease them a little.

/He will never recover, Eddie. That's it. He's done, waiting for sweet, sweet death you'll never grant him./, the voice laughed, whispering in his ear.

"No.", he protested. - but it also came off as an answer to Oswalds accusation, so he just went on: "I am no pervert. I promised I wouldn't let him do any harm to you again", Edward swore as Oswald and the Riddlers voice simultaneously spoke:

"Liar." /Liar./

He would hurt him. Sooner or later. They all knew it. Only did Ed try to lie to himself. He did not want Oswald hurt any further. He felt as if he had have his revenge. He didn't need to go on... He did not. He did not. He... As if a bystander he saw his hand slide up Oswalds shivering arm, to his shoulders, poking the naked, now warm skin, until his fingers ran up the back of his head, to clench themselves in the dark hair. He pulled Penguins head back, keeping him in his strong grip.

"I may be many things, but I'm no liar.", the Riddler hissed into Penguins ear. He ran his hands around the small body to keep him close again.

"I'll enjoy pushing all of that little life left out of your body. Breaking your bones and soul entirely. And – I – for sure keep my promises, little bird." His fingers caressed Oswalds chest, which lifted and lowered in a slow pace. "And – this – is a promise.", he chuckled. "You're way to unagitated anyway.", his voice grew softer, in a strange and creepy way, as his fingers slid the blanket off Oswalds shoulders he jerked him between his own legs, pressing his chest against the small back.

"Now."; he paused a second. "I will finish what I've started."

Penguin swallowed hard. He couldn't do anything else. His arms hang limp next to his body, shivering, but without any further motion. Tears welled in his eyes, unseen by the Riddler, who's hot breath crept down his neck, as he placed long, frightening kisses on the skin there.

"You... don't have to do this...", Oswald only whispered as the fingers on his breast left some scratch-marks on his pale skin.
"But I want to." This answer came with a dark laughter. Edwards fingers wandered deeper, pushing away the securing blanket between his legs. "Can't you feel how much I want to do this?", he whispered, pressing his crotch tight against Penguins lower back. He did feel it. He did feel something he didn't want to feel. Something he never wished for. Something he never saw them doing. He may have loved Edward but not in a... physical way.

"Why can't you just kill me off..."

"Where'd be the fun in this? The anticipation? The finesse? No this has to be perfect. And as we both know: killing you never worked out that well, little cockroach.", Ed whispered in Oswalds ear, just before he bit his lobe. "And to be honest I wished for this since a long time... I may not love you, Oswald. Never have. Never will. But that doesn't mean that I've never been attracted to you. And you should be thankful. You won't die a virgin.", Nygma laughed again, as he grabbed the hair once more and pushed Cobblepot down, pulling his legs back so he once again lay prone. Carelessly throwing the blanket on the floor. "Don't be shy, Oswald. You do have a beautiful body to look at.", Edward noted as he bent over his former friend. He didn't touch him as rough as he did at his first attempt. It was obvious that he didn't want to knock his victim out again. Oswald was supposed to witness what happened. And he did. It didn't take long until he noticed the sound of a zipper. It felt as if there were hands and kisses all over him. To the green devil he yet wasn't broken enough, there was still too much life left in his soul. Just as he thought he'd won. But he would get rid of this. For sure. The creepy kisses left Oswald paralysed. His body frozen without the slightest flinch. Only tears ran silently down the reddened and swollen cheeks. It didn't take long. But for Penguin it felt like eternity. The thrusting, the pain, the screeching of the bedposts. And again the thrusting. Edwards sweat dripping down on him. His breath and threatening whispers. Burning heat spread in his body while he felt as if he was being torn in half. He noticed that his body came nearer to the beds edge, but he was pulled back.
"It's like loving a corpse, Oswald. Do. Something.", the Riddler suddenly demanded. Obviously in need to get off on his screams. But he wouldn't. Not a single sound left his hurting lips. No matter how immense that pain had grown. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction to scream for him. No matter how badly he beat him in-between. It was a strange mixture of caressing and punishment by beating. Penguin didn't know if it was Edwards influence which was tender on him. He didn't care anyway. At some point not even his body went numb but also his senses. At first it started off with his hearing. Droning noise drowned out the sounds of the bed, of his own breath and Edwards', the skin that beat against skin. He could only hear his own blood, accompanied by a high pitching noise. And finally his eyes joined in. His vision got all blurry and distorted. He felt dizzy, as if the world was spinning.1000 thoughts at once ran through his head but all so fast that in the end he felt as if he didn't have any thought at all. Indeed Edward pushed the life out of him. With every thrust he died. Oswalds fingers clenched into the sheet, right in front of his face.

"No..."

Voiceless pleading. Silent protest as Nygma finished, sinking down on the cold, lifeless body which only seemed to produce tears. "I probably hurt something. Maybe I should get the doc over.", Edward murmured to himself as he inspected blood on his hands before he backed away, rolling over on his own back to lie next to his victim, smiling while staring at the ceiling. He held his fingers before Oswalds trembling, and wet eyes. There was sperm mixed with blood on them.

"The Doc will have a look on you. But since you didn't cry. Can't be that bad, can it?" Edward smiled as he shut his own eyes to rest. He knew his victim wouldn't even dare to do something. And he didn't. Oswald only fished for the blanket on the floor, to cover himself up. He didn't do anything else, but watching Edward, sleeping as an angel... A dark, dangerous, hellish angel. He just lay there curled up, staring into nothingness, shivering and silently weeping. This was too much. Edward had won. Or the Riddler. Who ever. Oswald didn't really care anymore. None of those two personas were the one he once fell in love with. None of them. Cause none of them would have done something as despicable. After a while Oswald got up and left the bed, he just walked through the room. Aimlessly. He was so tired, but didn't want to close his eyes. At least not anymore. He didn't want to be reminded of those horrors.

His shaking legs led him to a picture, Edward had hung at the wall. That picture was of a long forgotten time. A time when he became elected mayor. It was his winning picture, when he announced Edward his right hand. A day his world seemed so bright. When he felt as if there was a person who loved him. Cared for him. Someone who claimed he'd do anything for him... When the people of Gotham cared. When they loved Oswald Cobblepot for the man he was. But that day was long gone. Exchanged for pain, lots of pain and tears. All that pain... and now...? Nothing. He felt nothing at all. Not the tears running down his cheeks. Not the aching pain. Not the blood. Not a single emotion at all. There was truly... nothing. How long did he even stand there? Did anything even happen? Oswald couldn't separate dream from reality any more. Did that man in the picture? That man that would have died for him once, did he really just rape him? To have his petty revenge? To have his satisfaction? To avenge a woman he knew for a couple of days? Or did he only have another nightmare? He couldn't tell the difference of being asleep and being awake. He wasn't in the shower with him... maybe he wasn't here at all? His head turned slowly. The Riddler suddenly stood right behind him, with his cold smile. "Clinging to the past, Oswald?", he asked him in a calm voice, as he came even closer, so his chest slightly touched Oswalds shoulder. "That's not very healthy. You should start living in the now. Or... dying." His leather coated hands slid around Penguins neck. Strong fingers slowly pressed into the pale skin, until Oswald started to pant for air. But his hands wouldn't move. He wouldn't defend himself. On the contrary, the former mayor even started to laugh. Weirdly. Desperate. Confused. He just... laughed. At all that desperation. That pain. Everything. This was nothing but absurd. Was wishing to die really too much to ask for? Why did he have to endure this torture as he already was lying on the ground? Nothing made sense anymore. But there were no hands on his neck. And no Riddler that stood behind him. Edward sat on the edge of the bed. Staring at Oswald. "I think you're in a dangerously high fever, Oswald. You really should get back to bed...", Edward spoke in a worried voice. "I'm worried, Oswald...", he sighed. "I'm worried you're losing your mind." But the broken bird didn't show any reaction at all, but a weird laughing. "Can you even hear me...? Oswald?" Edwards face showed nothing but worries. "Oswald?"