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Oswald blinked, awareness gathering slowly behind his eyes. His thoughts were the fuzzy sort, like the kind one gets upon waking early in the morning before sand is cleared from the eyes. Only... he hadn't fallen asleep. He didn't even remember being unconscious.
At least he didn't think he did?
Oswald forced his mind to focus, pushing the remaining fuzziness aside. That's when he became aware that he was standing. His feet perched precariously on something hard but narrow. A quick glance down showed it to be the back of a chair. Normally, he might be inclined to wonder how he got up here and why in the first place, but something thick and scratchy hung tight around his neck and bound his wrists. It immediately chased away all other concern.The rope seemed much more immediate.
Oswald wobbled. In panic, his elbows flew out from his sides, flapping to regain his balance. The rope tightened and chafed against his skin. For an instant, the chair rocked. It teetered on two legs and Oswald was sure this was the end for him. But it wasn't. He gasped for breath the moment he gained his footing again. Clapping erupted behind him.
"Bravo!" A jovial voiced cooed, "Good show."
A man in striped uniform and a ridiculous newspaper hat stepped round to come fully into view. He smiled at Oswald, a smile without malice (not that it was any reassurance). Oswald recognized this man and knew nothing good would come of finding himself in his company once again. Jervis Tetch.
"What is the meaning of this?" Oswald sputtered, trying not to lose balance again.
"Oh, just a little present for my wonderul new friend. After all, he did help my escape in the end."
"You don't mean..."
Tetch's grin widened.
"That's right. The benevolent Riddler is sure to appear as soon as he hears I have you here."
Oswald wobbled again, cutting off any response he may have had.
"I do wish I could I stay for the party. Alas, prior engagement; wouldn't want to be tardy."
The mad hatter tipped his hat in farewell before quickly departing.
Oswald took the opportunity to begin screaming.
"Hey someone! Anyone! Help! Help!"
And on and on he screamed until his voice grew hoarse. Then he scrabbled at the rope, trying to get himself loose. It was useless. The rope was knotted in such a way that he couldn't work it open any wider, making it impossible to slip up over his head. He didn't want to accept that he was well and truly trapped here. Left to wait in some empty warehouse (near the docks by the look of it). So far from the rest of civilization. Far from any who might hear his calls for help. Alone. Until the Riddler came for him. Oswald wondered how long he had. He didn't doubt he would come.
Eventually Oswald gave up on escape, saving every last ounce of energy in keeping himself upright. His legs were beginning to ache, his old injury not making things any easier. That was likely the reasoning behind this particular form of entrapment. Tetch must have thought something about this scenario would appeal to the Riddler. Oswald had to agree. He imagined Ed would find this amusing. His thoughts began to turn from wondering whether Ed would bother to show up at all to if he would show up in time for the intended show. Would Oswald be alive when he got here or a dangling corpse?
Oswald wasn't left to wonder much longer. A set of footsteps approached, echoing loud around the empty warehouse. Oswald tried to turn to see the source, not that he really needed to. He knew it was Ed’s sauntering step.
The man in green appeared a moment later, walking a wide circle around him and oggling him like some macabre exhibit in a museum.
Oswald clenched his jaw and tried not to show the way exhaustion made tremors in his limbs.
Edward faced Oswald, taking a seat in another chair (Oswald only now noticed it placed a few paces in front of him). Just for the show. Seating for one.
"Hello, Oswald." Edward smirked, "How's it hanging?"
"Fuck you." Oswald spat.
Edward cackled.
"Are you really going to sit there? And- and watch?" Oswald demanded.
"Why not?" Edward shrugged, "After all the trouble my new pal went through setting this up for me. And I was planning to kill you anyway."
"Exactly!" Oswald huffed, "I didn't expect you to let someone else kill me. I thought you'd want to do it yourself!"
Edward tilted his head thoughtfully. He stood from the chair again, taking long strides closer but careful to stay out of arm's reach. He lifted a long leg to plant his foot on Oswald’s chair. Then, with almost experimental delicacy, he jostled the chair, not enough to topple it, but enough to send Oswald's feet scrambling for purchase.
Oswald yelped as he struggled to maintain his perch. His leg muscles burned with the effort. The rope tightened. Oswald clung to it for dear life.
"I could kill you whenever I want." Edward taunted, "But I like seeing you up there, Oswald. It suits you."
Oswald hissed spitefully. There were not words for the things he would do to Ed should he manage to get free. The chances of that seemed increasingly slim and internally Oswald cursed his eventual fate. But not out loud. He shouldn't give Ed the satisfaction of hearing it. Instead, he bared his teeth and glared. And if looks could kill, Ed would be joining him in the afterlife.
Edward glared back. Then he took down his foot and returned to his seat. He crossed his arms and settled in to watch.
Anger and fight drained out of Oswald quickly then. The reality of his predicament, the full force of it, pressing down on him as heavy as a ton of bricks. He was going to die like this. And Ed was going to watch. Whether he lasted for hours more or only seconds, the end would be the same either way. He might thrash like a fish on a hook. After his final twitch, when he finally succumbed, his face would bloat. It would discolor. His eyes might bulge hideously. He didn't want to imagine what his face in death would look like, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling vulgarly. Nor did he want to picture the look on Ed's face upon seeing it. Hanging would be so undignified.
"Edward." Oswald said softly.
Ed made eye contact, showing he had his attention.
Oswald took a breath and sighed.
"If you get me down from here, I'm willing to make a deal with you."
Edward scoffed, "What could you possibly have to offer? You're exactly where I want you. And I'm about to get exactly what I've wanted."
"But not everything you wanted."
It irked Oswald to no end he couldn’t come up with any other plan than this. It was his only chance.
"There’s something you still want from me. Besides my death..."
Edward still didn't seem to catch his meaning.
"Something you want me to call you."
Understanding finally flickered to life in Edward’s deep brown eyes.
"Your life for my name." Edward murmured.
A strange look passed over Edward’s face then. Something Oswald couldn't easily identify even despite his talent for reading others. If he were to name it, he'd say it looked something akin to thirst, watching the way Ed’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. But a faraway look in his eyes reminded Oswald more of nostalgia. If he didn’t know any better, he might have named this look longing. But he did know better. Whatever it was though, it made Oswald's heart hammer so wildly.
"I'm afraid not."
Oswald sighed, "Not my life. Just down from here. Kill me some other way."
Edward mulled it over briefly.
"Deal."
A certain amount of tension left Oswald's body then. So of course the muscles of his leg chose this moment to spasm. His knee chose this moment to fail. His foot slipped from the back of the chair as if in slow motion. Oswald had time to gulp one last breath before his body was falling and the rope was constricting around his throat. He had time to see Edward’s expression change from that strange look of thirst to one of shock. Then Oswald was choking and that was all that concerned him. His legs thrashed clumsily below him. His hands clawed at his neck.
He didn't see Edward rush forward.
He didn't see what the shock morphed into a second later.
But suddenly he became aware of arms wrapping around his legs. His body was hoisted up until he was hanging no longer and he latched instinctively onto Edward’s shoulder. The rope was still digging into his neck and cutting off his airways, but a desperate blade was sawing at it. At last, Oswald was free of the damned thing and gasped breath after heaving breath.
He closed his eyes and laughed.
It cut off in a sharp cough. He choked for a bit, throat scratchy and dry. It hurt. His neck felt chafed and bruised. His head pounded. He rested it against Ed's shoulder.
"You should get down now." Edward said, reminding Oswald how exactly he'd been saved. And that he was now just lying there awkwardly in his sworn enemy's arms.
"Oh! Um..."
Oswald began sliding down until his feet could reach. Edward patiently held still and even helped steady him as he reached the ground. Oswald's leg cramped up immediately, and without Ed there, he would have likely found himself a heap on the floor. Instead, Edward helped him to sit in the chair before making distance between them again.
"Thank you... Riddler." Oswald mumbled shyly. His face felt hot and inside his heart was pandomonium. Edward should have let him fall.
"No need to thank me." Edward said coldly, "We had an agreement."
Oswald shrugged.
"So what now? Do you want me to call you the Riddler again? Or was once enough and you're ready to... um..."
Edward wore a contemplative expression, but gave no answers to any of Oswald's questions.
"Ed?"
"I'm thinking."
While he was thinking, Oswald reached down with his still bound hands and massaged the aches in his leg as best he could. He hissed in breath as he kneaded his calf and around the knee. It hurt, but in the way that gives relief. He closed his eyes and tried to remain as calm as a man facing his own death can be. He wished Ed would just get on with this. His body and mind were both worn and he wanted nothing more than to be finished off quickly.
"Okay, I've decided."
Oswald opened his eyes again and fixed them on Edward.
"Can you stand?" Ed asked.
Oswald did as requested, despite the strain it put on him.
"Good. I'd rather not kill someone who can't even stand. Just feels... wrong." Edward muttered almost to himself while pacing.
He stopped in his tracks. Oswald watched him withdraw a pistol from the back of his waistband. He weighed it in his hand before turning to look at Oswald.
"I want you to call me the Riddler and then I'm going to shoot you. Neat and tidy. No pain."
Oswald nodded and took a trembling breath, "Okay."
He stood up straighter.
"Goodbye, Riddler."
He stared into Edward’s eyes and felt his heart shatter all over again. Ed took aim at it, his crumbling heart. The moment seemed to stretch on for Oswald, though it couldn't have been longer than a few split seconds. It was eternity, wasn't it? He couldn't let it end this way.
"Wait!"
Edward lowered the gun a fraction.
"I..."
Oswald searched Edward’s impenetrable, unreadably dark eyes. He swallowed.
"Before you do this, there is something I must say." Oswald bit his lip and added, "If you'll permit me."
"Go ahead." Edward said devoid of emotion.
Oswald summoned up his courage. If this was to be the end of him, he needed Ed to know. There were so many things he would do differently, so many things he wished he could take back, but it was too late for that. It wasn't too late for this.
"After you shot me, that first time... when I revived, laying in an unfamiliar bed confused and in pain, my first thought was of you. I was so angry. I hated you for what you did to me, Ed. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me." Oswald said it all softly, no hint of that anger lingering any longer in his voice, "I don't feel that way now. I should be angry. You've bested me again. You're going to kill me, successfully this time I'm sure. But strangely what I feel is... I... well, I understand now. I was wrong, Ed. And I'm..."
Edward’s eyes remained unchanging. His face carved of stone.
A lump formed in Oswald's throat.
"What I'm trying to say is... I'm... I'm so very sorry." Oswald’s voice cracked under a flood of emotions he could no longer suppress, "I should never have hurt you, Ed! I'm sorry I hurt you."
Tears spilled down Oswald's cheeks. He couldn't stop them now. He knew what it must look like. Another attempt at escaping death, a lie to change Edward’s mind. It didn't matter. He couldn't hold it back even if he tried, and he needed Ed to hear him. Even if he doesn't believe, even though it's the last thing he will ever do, even knowing it changes nothing.
But he was changed. Even though it only happened at the end of his life, Oswald could feel the shift within himself. He had done something he never had before, not even for his mother. Something he could never have done. Until Edward. Only Edward.
"I'm sorry."
Oswald inhaled and wiped his face. His eyes still stung. He began trying to pull himself back together. It was done. It was time. It all should have happened long ago.
Edward looked uncomfortable.
"You really mean that." His voice came through gravelly, "Don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Oswald answered emphatically, pain building in his chest that could eat him alive, "I..."
never wished to see you in pain.
would take it back if I could.
regret not giving you everything.
"Would do anything for you." Oswald finished.
Edward’s eyes glistened, the darkness in them not so impenetrable as before. If looks could heal... and maybe they could.
"It's too late, Oswald." Edward said, staring down at his shoes, "It's too late for that now."
"Whatever you decide. Riddler, whatever you need... I'm ready. I'm willing."
Oswald could hardly believe the words coming from his own mouth, but he meant them. He never thought he could, but he did.
"Stop! Just..." poor Edward looked so distressed, "Stop talking."
Oswald held his tongue. Let it all overflow without another sound. It wasn't something he could hide even with his silence. Even without his tears.
Edward wouldn't look at him. He wouldn't move. Wouldn't speak. His gun pointed down, held limply in one hand. Maybe that would change at any second. Maybe this moment wasn't meant to last. Wasn't meant to be.
Oswald took a step closer. Then another. He walked to stand before Ed, lifted his bound hands to reach towards him.
Ed flinched.
Oswald gently took his hand. He didn’t try to pry the gun from his lax grip. He closed fingers loosely around Ed’s own, brought their joined hands up slowly. The barrel of the gun he pressed against his own chest.
"Is this what you want from me?"
He didn't believe it was. Not anymore.
"Do you want me dead, Ed?"
Edward’s hand shook.
"Let me give my life to you." Oswald whispered sweetly, "Let me make ammends."
Edward finally looked up at him with eyes wide and childlike
"I... I can't." Edward stammered.
"I know." Oswald said gently, taking the gun from him now, "Then let me live for you. Let me redeem what I stole."
Edward's gaze wavered. He already lost his leverage, but still looked so uncertain.
"I can make you happy." Oswald coaxed him, "I'll give you everything, Ed. I promise."
"Okay."
An hour later found the two men returned to the house of Oswald's father, seated before a glowing grate, and quietly conversing in a scene all too familiar, although their roles were reversed this time. Edward handed over a delicate little china cup into Oswald's waiting hands. The scent of ginger tea rose with the steam.
"Thank you, Ed."
"I've been told it remedies a sore throat." Edward confessed.
Oswald smiled. He sipped his tea, relishing the sweetness.
"I don't deserve this." He noted, setting the cup aside.
"No." Edward agreed, "You don't. But this is about what I want, remember?"
"And this is what you want? To take care of me. Make me tea."
"Maybe."
Oswald hummed.
"Would you have really let me kill you?" Edward asked quietly.
"It's not like I could have actually stopped you." Oswald pointed out.
Edward frowned.
"That's not what I mean."
"Fine." Oswald admitted, "No. I knew you didn't want to. I wouldn't really let you kill me. Not if I could stop it."
"Good."
Oswald looked aside at Ed, lifting a curious brow.
"If I didn't know any better, my dear Ed, I'd say you sound fond of me. I might even think I possess your affections." Oswald stated playfully. He didn't expect Ed to respond.
"I... enjoy your company."
"Come now... You must want more than that from me." Oswald teased, "Riddler."
He scooted closer, until their knees brushed and placed a hand over Ed’s. He liked the way Edward’s eyes reflected the firelight. He liked the way they looked when they glanced up at him almost shyly. Edward’s hand was warm beneath his. His body language relaxed and open. Feeling bold, Oswald took Ed's hand and brought it up to his lips. It was only a light brush to the back of it, but Edward’s ears and face went a most interesting shade of pink even as his expression remained stoic. Then Oswald returned his hand to him.
"This is enough. For now." Edward swallowed, "I still haven't forgiven you. You'll have to earn that."
"As you wish." Oswald said, sitting back again and taking up his cup to drink deeply.