Oswald finally has his father's manor back, but it's in terrible need of restoration. Ed lets him and Martin stay with him in his apartment for a few days while the crew Oswald has hired to renovate finishes up the final touches. Martin's curiosity as he wanders around the place for the first time is adorable, and he points to each odd piece of furniture (Like rusty 10 foot tall arrows or the bunsen burner and large beaker that take the place of an actual coffee maker) until Edward softly smiles tells him about them.

Oswald is actually a little curious himself as Ed goes on about the history of the arrow. He'd found it in an old antique shop with his mother one week while out of Gotham on a road trip. His mother had seen it light up after Edward walked beneath the point and immediately purchased it. When he'd asked her why, she'd smiled at him and told him he was a natural born star, that the arrow just proved it. She bought the arrow to remind him of that fact.

She'd thought he might go into the arts when he grew up, even though he'd told her time after time he was interested in science and anatomy.

"Is that why you like to make a show out of everything?" Oswald snorted, taking a seat on the edge of Edward's bed while he and Martin looked at the arrow. It was almost twice the size of Martin.

Edward grinned, "Mothers do always know best, don't they?"

Oswald gave him a quiet smile, and relaxed as they continued on the little history tour of 'the life of Ed Nygma'. Martin was an eager customer, for sure. He eagerly swallowed up every little tidbit Edward fed him, sometimes scribbling out questions, other times quietly asking with his eyes if he could touch things. It was almost as if he were in an actual museum.

Oswald resolved to take him to one soon.

A zoo sometime as well... to see the penguins, of course.

When it came time to put Martin to sleep, Ed politely offered the two of them the bed. But Oswald insisted that Ed be the one to take it, it was his home after all, he should sleep in his own space. Eventually it was Martin that offered up the compromise, holding his little notepad high enough that both of them could see his neatly printed, [We could all share?]

Both he and Edward fall silent.

Either Martin has caught onto things far quicker than Oswald expected or Martin is just a little gift sent up from hell to throw a wrench in the workings of his life... but Oswald refuses to think of Martin as anything even remotely hellish, so option one it was.

"I... uhm, well..." he flubberers out, looks over at Ed for some kind of help.

He certainly doesn't want to be the one to tell his boy that they can't sleep in the same bed with Edward because "We have a history; I told him I loved him and he shot me".

Edward only flounders back in the same fish-like form of dumbfoundedness. Genius, indeed, Oswald huffs to himself.

Martin's little hands write quickly, [That's okay, right Uncle Ed?]

Uncle Ed. Jesus.

Oswald turns to him, expecting some sort of ghast at the nickname, but Edward surprises him, looks completely taken in, and Oswald can't believe it.

"I suppose... it would be fine." he says, shooting Oswald an apologetic shrug and a look that relayed just how wrapped around Martin's little finger he really was. "It is big enough."

Oh, what a sap. Of course Martin would be the one to finally get at Edward's heartstrings.

Not that Oswald could blame him. He was just as bad, if not far worse.

Oswald tips his chin up, pulling the bottom hem of his suit jacket down and nodding. "Well I guess that's better than letting you sleep on your horrible couch."

Ed frowns, "What's wrong with my couch?"

"I lived here for a time, Ed, if you'll remember. That has to be the most uncomfortable piece of furniture I've ever had the misfortune use." he scoffs, then smirks, "And I was once tied to a chair that broke simply because of its poor craftsmanship. Sleeping on that old thing would be worse than all of the splinters I had that day."

Martin's grin was wide, Ed's just as warm if not a little uneasy, and they came to their agreement.

Martin and Oswald dress down while Ed busies himself in the tiny studio restroom. Oswald once again tries to insist that Ed properly use his own space, but Edward argues that his cramped little bathroom is far too small for both of them to comfortably maneuver about and he really doesn't mind.

Oswald hasn't quite had the time to secure himself nightclothes, or Martin anything new at all for that matter, so they both make use of Ed's.

Two night shirts are the only suitable things that they find, and even those are honestly far too big for either of them. While Oswald only has to suffer a little extra length here and there, long enough on him to droop a little past his mid thigh, poor Martin's sleeves go almost down to his ankles. Oswald is leaning over to help roll one up when Edward comes out again. He smiles when he sees them, eyebrow lifting and a hand raising over his lips to try and stifle his upcoming chuckle.

"A little big?" he asks, all too knowingly.

"You're lanky and at least a foot taller than me, Ed." Oswald says, short but not unfondly, "Martin didn't stand a chance."

Ed does chuckle then, coming down to kneel on Martin's other side and help with the second sleeve. "Forgive me for laughing, but this feels oddly domestic, and I never thought of you as someone who would wind up domestic, Oswald. It's... surprisingly cute."

He smiles, small and private, a little red in his cheeks that he tries to hide by not looking at Ed, "Yes, well, Martin is a special case."

The boy grins, proud, and the sleeves are finally rolled up past his wrists, but on the shirt they're nearly up to the shoulder line. Oswald can't help but agree that it does feel domestic, and he finds the entire situation... somewhat cutesy. For lack of a better word. They're both wearing Edward's shirts, like they're a part of his little family. If he were a suburban mother, this would be the moment to whip out his phone and snap a picture for his blog.

He would caption the picture of Martin in his oversized sleeves, Ed beside him, wearing another of the shirts like it was actually meant to be worn, "Like father like son."

Oswald jerks himself out of that vastly unhelpful thought quickly, and instructs Martin to take care of his teeth before the boy tried to make a dash for the bed. As if Oswald wouldn't notice.

Edward chortles at him as Martin goes.

"What's so funny?"

He shrugs, still grinning, "Just... you, fatherdom . It's oddly suited to you, in a way."

Oswald blinks, a little unsure of what to say, and settles for an incline of his head, "Thank you." his eyebrows skew, "I think."

Ed laughs and touches a hand to his shoulder, "It was a compliment."

Oswald smiles.

They settle into the large bed with Martin wedged in between them, something Oswald had hoped would keep him from staring at Edward all night, but his small frame puts the top of his head just below their chins, and his brown locks aren't enough to hide behind. As Oswald peeks over the amber curls of Martin's hair, he spies Ed looking right back at him. He shoots Oswald a small, almost shy smile before his eyes shut and then it's only Oswald being creepy, still staring. He can't help it. Oswald doesn't remember the last time he saw Ed looking so... peaceful...

He looks different without the glasses. Softer almost. His brow holds a different posture when it's not competing a new nefarious plan with those speckled frames. Oswald can't help but stare a little longer. He doesn't actually know if he's ever seen Ed like this before... let alone remembering it. Even while they were chummy and working together as Mayor and Chief of Staff, Edward always held a sort of stiff and overworked posture, no matter how much time off Oswald had given him. He never looked this lax... even after he met the librarian.

Oswald was reminded again of Isabelle. Isabell a . Her name was Isabella. Oswald wouldn't forget that anymore.

He frowns, glaring into the little curls on Martin's head before he finally softened again. He still believed that Edward could never have had anything real with her, Ed would probably have done away with her himself in the end, but Oswald did, on some level, regret killing Isabella. He'd taken happiness away from the man he loved instead of trying to support him. Oswald had made so many mistakes after realizing his crush on Edward. He'd gone about everything ass backwards and full of selfish motivation. He'd learned for the experience, certainly, but he still regretted it.

Oswald wasn't sure he'd ever actually apologized...

"Ed." he whispers, and his shoulders lose a little of their tension as he sees Edward's eye pop open.

"What is it Oswald?"

He blinks, the words suddenly clogged in his throat, unable to force them out like he wanted to. He loosens his lips once, trying to talk, just to tighten them shut again immediately after. This was going to be harder than he thought . "I..." he croaked, and looked down at the top of Martin's head one more time before steeling himself.

"Edward, I'm... sorry about what I did. To Isabella."

The silence between them grows thick and dark.

Edward stares at him, eyes a little wider than before, and Oswald is too scared to look away. They stay like that for a while, unmoving, apprehensive of each other, as Edward seems to digest what Oswald has just said.

Finally his lips part, and Oswald almost can't breathe.

"...Thank you, Oswald." Edward finally says, cautious and light, like if he made a wrong move he might startle Oswald back into his shell, " Thank you. "

Oswald finally lets his chest deflate, and smiles at Edward, who offers him a small grin in return. Oswald lets go of where he's been fisting Martin's night shirt unawares, and finally relaxes enough to go to sleep, Edward dutifully watching over both him and Martin from the other side of the pillows.

The mansion takes almost another week to finish.

Oswald doesn't rush them at all.

The rooms are outfitted for himself, Martin... and Ed. Surprisingly enough. It had been a last minute addition to the original designs, fixing up a room especially for Edward, and Oswald still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Oswald hadn't intended it to have Edward stay long, thinking Edward would be ready to move on to other things. However, when they'd taken the first steps up the cobblestone walk, Martin's hand firmly grasping both his and Edward's on the other side, Oswald wasn't ready to split him from Martin. At first he'd merely wanted to thank him, invite him to stay while he found himself somewhere new to go. The apartment was meant to be a fail safe, where he could fall back when he was in hiding, but Edward wasn't going to live there again. There were too many memories tucked away in the walls, beneath the peeling paper and in between the cracks.

"Stay a while." he'd said, and didn't know that he was saying stay forever.

Martin has no problem with it in the least.

He and Edward grow very close very quick, and the two of them are companions before Oswald completely realizes what's happening. Edward tutors him sometimes, helps him with his homework and puts him well ahead of the class when he starts attending regular school again. Martin is a terribly bright boy, and Oswald enjoys seeing Ed bond with him over it.

It makes his chest tingle with a warmth he doesn't care to investigate or unpack. Oswald is content to just be happy with how his life is proceeding and to not worry.

While Edward's relationship with Martin blossoms early and fast, it takes longer for Oswald to warm back up to him. There's still a lot of hurt and reminders of the past in the things around them, and it's easy to stumble across something that negatively affects one or both of them.

Oswald finds himself no longer willing to take care of any business by the docks.

Edward can't look at an ice bucket without cringing, and it makes Oswald feel a little sick to his stomach to see it.

Neither of them are willing to bring Martin to the Gotham City library, even though the new librarian is a kind, older woman. At least Oswald doesn't have to worry about that. Oswald instead buys Martin whatever books he needs and his departed father's study doesn't already have, has them delivered by mail.

It takes time, neither of them expects for the scars to heal over right away so they're careful of each other, but both understand that there will come a day when it becomes easier.

Today Martin has called both Edward and Oswald into the study, a little poster board propped up on the desk with the two of them sitting in view.

His real and only true troubles in school are his solo project presentations. In a group or a pair Martin can help with most of the work and have his partner give the oral speech that accompanies. Martin had once asked if he could just skip it all together, if Oswald would be okay with a few failing grades on the projects he just couldn't present orally, but Oswald encouraged him to explore and try some different ways to present instead.

Normally Oswald would have been perfectly fine with something like that, Martin didn't talk, that wasn't his fault, but he wanted Martin to learn how to present himself to others. Being a successful, mute, crime lord of Gotham in the future would require a lot of flash and flare in the department. One had to know how to intimidate. Martin needed to learn how he would conduct his business without words and still convey that he was a deadly force to be reckoned with.

It was Ed's idea to teach him gestures, originally. They worked with basic movements that conveyed this or that, and though it was interesting and definitely conveyed Martin's emotional levels, it was sometimes hard to understand what he meant. It wasn't a flawless way of communication by any means.

Victor Zsasz was the one that taught him sign language. Coincidentally also one of the first people under Oswald's employ that learned Martin's gestures, Zsasz seemed to really be interested in Martin's new advances. Some of the thugs had learned a few of Martin's strange hand motions, but Victor was the only one who liked to ask whenever he saw him if there were any new ones, always kept up to date.

Martin appreciated it a lot, Oswald could tell, and much like Oswald, Martin decided Victor was his favorite of the gunmen.

Oswald caught them one afternoon in the kitchen, spoiling Martin's dinner with grilled cheese sandwiches and singing away, sometimes slipping gestures in here and there as well. When Zsasz laughed Martin smiled, and Oswald decided then and there that he would work hard to always maintain Victor's loyalty, if for no other reason that to keep him around for Martin.

"How do you know sign language?" Edward had asked Zsasz one afternoon, after watching the two of them have a small conversation about Zsasz's favorite gun.

Victor had shrugged, "Some of my girls don't talk. It's also a good way to communicate secretly sometimes, not many people in Gotham know it."

He had a point. While the sign language was somewhat more efficient, there were hardly enough people in Gotham who knew it for Martin to be able to use it as frequently as he would need to. It still wasn't going to be enough.

Oswald eventually turned to technology. He had Victor (Fries) make him a tablet of sorts, one designed especially for Matin. When he'd originally come to him with the work, Fries had been hesitant, maybe even a little begrudging, but he complied, took Oswald's briefcase of cash, and handed him a product a week or so later. It came with a stylus for drawing, a little keyboard that would pop up on screen if he wished to type, and a read-aloud feature that gave his words a voice. Like the design of the original notepad, this new device had a strong band attached on either end so that Martin could still wear it around his neck. It could speak his written words aloud if needed, but Martin hardly used that feature. When Oswald asked why he didn't, he'd said it wasn't 'his own voice' and drew a little grumpy robot with a speech bubble. Edward also helpfully pointed out that it couldn't convey emotion 'like a good showman should be able to' .

So they tried again.

Oswald took the pad back to Fries, asking if there could be any modifications made so that it would be a little more… personal for Martin. Specifically the voice feature. Fries had grumbled about it, but took Oswald's money. He tinkered for a few days and returned the device with a new voice setting and smoother word transitions to replace the stiff, robotic tone that had originally been there.

The first try had been a deep, gravelly voice that Oswald thought would be perfect for a future ruler of Gotham; full of threat and menace, but Edward had told him to try again after hearing an unchildlike boom ask if he could have some ice cream after dinner. Zsasz had slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from snickering.

The second was too high, too childlike and erring heavily on the side of annoying, but Fries had added the option to choose an emotion to convey this time. There were little buttons Martin could press; happy, sad, angry, neutral, Oswald was impressed.

Fries came to the manor at Oswald's request after that, and spent some time with Martin. Edward and Oswald had both watched him like a hawk as he attached two, sticky, little pads against either side of Martin's throat, and looked on with curiosity as Fries instructed him to hum in different keys. Oswald had been eager, wondering if Fries would be able to create what would have been Martin's real voice. Edward stood beside him, utterly fascinated. Ed had asked a few questions here and there throughout the process, to most of which Victor had grunted, given him something vague in response, and continued with whatever he was doing to the tablet.

"There." Victor said with satisfaction, and handed the little pad to Martin.

Martin looked up at Edward and Oswald nervously. He selected an emotion setting with great trepidation before typing, then lifted his chin to the two of them and anxiously pressed the talk feature.

Oswald's lips parted when the voice came through the little speakers, a perfect combination of boyish charm and the sophistication that Martin clearly held. Edward smiled, and Martin looked ready to cry. Oswald rushed over to him, bending over to place a hand on Martin's cheek and another on his shoulder, "Oh, my boy, you have a voice now."

Martin had buried his face in Oswald's chest with arms wrapped around him, shaking with happy tears.

Martin has used the talk feature a lot more recently, and Oswald is excited to see how he's fitted it into his presentation. This will be the first time Martin will be using his new device for a school project, and he's justifyingly nervous.

His project is on Gotham's criminal history. A surprising topic for an eleven-year-old class, but one both men are curious to hear about, if for no other reason than to hear what history might have to say about them. Oswald makes a quiet bet with Ed that there'll be more to say about The Penguin than The Riddler.

Edward huffs at him.

Martin stands before his board, pad in hand, and smiles brightly before pressing a small series of buttons, "Hello, and thank you for coming to hear my presentation..."

Edward and Oswald both clap once he's finished, grinning from ear to ear. He'd done a marvelous job, and the voice worked like a charm. If Martin's lips hadn't remained stationary throughout the presentation, you would never have known.

They'd been a little surprised to see their criminal personas hadn't been immortalized like they'd both hoped, but it didn't matter. Even if their names weren't yet in the Gotham history books, they soon would be, and with Martin makes such strides towards success, Oswald was sure he'd one day be there too. The thought made him proud beyond belief.

Martin aced his oral presentation and Oswald could not have been more proud of him. With straight A's across the board, Oswald thought it right to offer Martin a reward for all of his hard work and intellect.

"Would you like to visit an Aquarium today?" Oswald asks the following morning, huge smile plastered on his face.

Martin positively lights up, typing away on his tablet before pressing the button to have it read aloud, "Can Uncle Ed and Uncle Victor come too?"

Oswald snorts, raising an eyebrow at the boy, "So Zsasz has been promoted to 'Uncle' as well?"

Martin grins and nods.

"I'm going to have to start scheduling family reunions soon if you keep adding to the bunch like this. Alright, you little monkey," he says fondly, "go ahead and invite them."

The aquarium isn't particularly crowded, which is a marvelous feat considering it's small size. Apparently Gotham officials didn't deem it entirely necessary to have an extensive aquarium, living so close to a large body of water. Of course, the limited exhibits and overall tiny area didn't stop Martin from having fun. He drags them all to each and every tank, pointing and asking questions with his pad.

Zsasz likes catfish the best apparently, and he and Martin spend a good few minutes making faces at them with their cheeks pressed the glass.

Martin's tablet speaks out to them as they break away from the touch tank, "What's your favorite fish?" and Martin looks excitedly at both of their faces, eager to know.

After a pause, "I like the tuna." Oswald says with a mischievous grin, "They're the most delicious."

Edward snorts beside him and Zsasz smirks like Oswald's just told a joke.

Edward admits to finding the flatfish to be the most interesting. When Oswald inquires as to why, Edward points the fish out to Martin, and starts on a lesson in flatfish. Apparently they camouflage in and under the sand of the ocean floor, keeping their eyes above them while they wait for prey to swim by. It's when they jump up to move that they become vulnerable, they can't see a thing behind their flat backs. They're a strong fish, but when they attack-when they should, by nature's right, be the most deadly-they're at their weakest. Not being able to see the much larger fish creeping up behind you is a dangerous disadvantage.

Oswald looks over his shoulder, as if being reminded that he hasn't done so all day.

Edward looks at him thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything, and Martin drags Zsasz by the hand over to the tank that advertises the stingray. Oswald can't actually tell which of the two is more excited to see it. Zsasz did buy the fuzzy little keychain in the giftshop.

After poking through a few more exhibits, reading the plaques beside the tanks and asking some surprisingly insightful questions for a young boy, Martin decides that the Angelfish is his favorite.

They look tough, but also pretty. He likes the colors, their odd shape, how fast they move. Zsasz says they're like little badasses, and when Martin turns to smile up at him, Oswald decides to send Zsasz out to a pet store after they're done here.

Martin is ecstatic when Zsasz returns from his 'secret mission' and holds out the little plastic baggy for him, and even more enthusiastic when he offers to help Martin set up the tank.

Oswald stops him, raises an eyebrow at the two other bags filled with little fish, and Zsasz shrugs innocently. He'd bought some for himself too it seems, a little school of Blemish fish, because he thought they looked pretty.

"We can put them in the same tank with Charlie!"

Oswald blinks, "Charlie?"

"It's what he named the fish." Zsasz grins and Oswald finds himself only a little jealous that he'd told Zsasz the fish's name before he told Oswald.

Turns out Angelfish are secretly very aggressive. It eats all of the Blemish fish after the first few days in the tank and Zsasz is utterly heartbroken, but then Martin consoles him by offering to co-parent Charlie, and Victor gets back to his old self quickly, the new parent of a little badass. Oswald tries not to think about just how fitting Charlie is for a place like Gotham, like he knew where he was and what that meant for him. Even the fish are out to destroy one another here, no regards for anything but themselves.

Oswald looks over his shoulder.

Oswald marks the day that he officially adopts Martin on the calendar as one of the happiest of his life. Words can't describe the pride he feels, watching Martin nod his head when the judge asks him if he consents to Oswald becoming his legal guardian, or when he runs up to hug Oswald after all the paperwork is signed and official.

He's a father now. Martin is Oswald's son ... it's a lot to really chew at first, and Oswald wonders with some sense of dread if he'll really be good enough. He's scared to screw Martin up in some way, like he does most relationships, but Edward nudges him gently in the side, tells him to just think of what his mother would do, and Oswald knows everything will be okay.

There's a small party being thrown just for the occasion, and Edward, ever so gracious and cunning, has invited all of the officials that had been involved with Martin's adoption. It was both a way to chum it up with more Gotham City executives and ensure that his guardianship over Martin would not be questioned in any way. Bribe the jury, as it were.

Oswald appreciates Edward and his cleverness to no end.

During the party however, Oswald can't quite shake the feeling that he's being watched. His eyes roam the surrounding crowd until he catches the gaze of a woman, who's been staring him down longer than he'd care to admit to not noticing.

Oswald starts to panic a little. Who was she? What did she want? Why was she staring? Did it have to do with Martin? Was she involved in Oswald's underworld dealings? Was she there scheming? Did Oswald have a new enemy-

Ed jostles him with a worried look, " Oswald , what are you doing?"

"That woman," Oswald says quietly, like they could be overheard if he didn't whisper, "she's giving me a weird look. Do we know her?"

Edward blinks at him.

"Maybe have Zsasz check her out..."

"Oswald," he smiles, like this situation is simply humorous and not the worrisome threat that it really is, "no one here means you any harm. That's just one of the supporting staff, she's supposed to be examining your interactions with Martin, that's her job."

Oh.

Oswald blushes, a little embarrassed, "Oh, is... is that it..."

Edward pats his back reassuringly, "There's no enemy here, Oswald."

Oswald wants to believe Edward, he really does. He tries not to stare at the woman too often throughout the rest of the evening, but no matter how hard he tries, Oswald can't stop looking over his shoulder at her. The dreadful feeling of being unsafe clings to him even after she's left and the party is well and over. It weighs his shoulders down with a consternation he just can't seem to shrug off.

He's missing something important, Oswald is sure, but he can't figure out what it is.