Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gotham, New Jersey, 1933.

Gotham was a small town.

It was in the middle of nowhere New Jersey, a town that was located in the countryside, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone.

It was the kind of town where gossip spreads like wildfire, the kind of town that rarely got visitors, the type of town where the residents lived their entire lives.

Well, most of them did.

Because one man didn’t grow up there.

No.

You see, Edward Nygma was a man who lived a boring life.

He moved to the town of Gotham five years ago, a man who got out of his big city life, finding himself settling down in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

But he didn’t regret it one bit.

Why?

Because he loved his job, the man working at the Gotham Library, the assistant of the head librarian Kristen Kringle, a red haired woman who wore glasses just like he did.

Yeah.

And the two of them may have started off on the wrong foot, but have learned to tolerate each other during the five years that they’ve been working together.

They may not have been friends, and never hung out outside of work, but they did appreciate each other, knowing that they made a good team.

While Kristen spent her days doing paperwork in the back office, he just restocked the shelves and stamped books, taking his lunch break at the diner across the street.

Speaking of which.

There were two women who worked there.

Isabella Frost was his boss’s half sister, a woman with blond hair and matching colored eyes, a woman who wore clothes that showed off her figure instead of hiding it.

If you know what I mean.

The other woman who worked there was Lee Thompkins, who was a woman with dark hair, and a tan complexion, the wife of Jim Gordon, the Sheriff’s Deputy.

But that wasn’t all she was.

No.

Because Lee Thompkins was Ed’s best friend.

For five years they’ve been besties, the two of them telling each other everything, even the deep dark secrets that no one else knew.

You see, she was the older sister that he would never have, a woman who was seven years older than him, the sort of friend who was overprotective of him.

All she wanted was the best for Ed, the woman encouraging him to go out more, to get out of his stuffy apartment, and that leaving his house didn’t count.

At all.

Oh, maybe even meet someone- the man adamant that he was too busy working to even consider going on a date and meeting someone.

Until one day.

It was the summer of 1933, the sun high in the sky, shining over the bright green fields of rural New Jersey, not a house or person in sight.

Unfortunately.

He was driving into work that morning when his car broke down, the engine smoking and the man frustrated, a frown on his face as he opened the hood, his brown eyes assessing the damage.

The engine was toast.

Fried even.

“Oh dear.”

That would be an understatement.

He would have no choice but to fix his car himself, the man only knowing the basics when it came to fixing a car, spending his childhood watching his father intern at the local shop.

But his limited knowledge didn’t matter.

No.

What mattered was that he was going to be late.

And Edward Nygma was never late- no, the man was always on time, a habit that stemmed from his rotten childhood, one that drove his boss and coworker insane.

Kristen could never tolerate it when he arrived on time.

Well now he was late, and a part of him knew that she’d be relieved, and probably wouldn’t even care if he never showed up.

She probably wouldn’t even notice, to be honest.

“Do you need a hand with that?”

It was a man who spoke, and the words startled him, causing him to bang his head on the hood, a quiet ow escaping him before he turned to look at the man who spoke.

He was a couple of inches shorter than him, a man who had dark hair, green eyes, and freckles on his nose, brown dots that stood out against his pale complexion.

But that wasn’t all.

No.

The man was walking with a limp, dragging his right foot behind him, and causing him to waddle with every step that he took.

Almost like a Penguin.

He couldn’t help but smile though, his tone of voice calm and his brown eyes watching the man closely when he spoke, a small smile forming on his face,

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

And those words were true.

It would be.

His eyes just watched as the man returned the smile, before he reached the car, his eyes assessing the damage before he got to work, not seeming to care that he stood to the side, watching him.

“Well? Is it bad?”

He couldn’t help but wonder, the amount of smoke that was coming from the hood telling him that it was, but the man just shook his head, continuing to smile when he spoke again, answering his question.

“It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

There was a slight accent to the man’s words, one that he didn’t notice until now, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion the more he thought about it.

And his accent wasn’t American.

No.

It wasn’t Mid Western or even Southern, telling the man that there was only one option left, one that might explain the man’s accent perfectly.

He was an immigrant.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

The man didn’t say anything, just continuing to work on his car as he glanced at him, a couple of minutes going by before he spoke, a smile of amusement on his face.

“Is it that obvious?”

Oh.

And he didn’t sound angry by the question, just amused, almost like he was the first person who had the courage to ask him that.

Who knows.

Maybe he was.

“Your accent isn’t American,” he just explained, leaning his body against the side of the car as he used his observation skills to get his point across.

“And you slur your words, almost like you're unfamiliar with speaking in English.

Which means that you have to be from some place abroad.”

There was a sharp silence after that, the man opening his mouth to apologize, a part of him afraid that he overstepped, only to get interrupted by the man, who’s tone of voice was calm, like he wasn’t bothered by his observation.

No.

In fact, he looked…

Relieved?

“My mother was Hungarian. She immigrated here before I was born.”

Ah.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

The man didn’t say anything, just continued fixing the car before he lowered the hood, stepping away from the model T before he spoke again, his green eyes meeting the younger man’s brown ones.

“There. You’re good to go.”

He just thanked the man, before he walked towards the driver's door, only to pause at the other man’s words, a look of thought on his face.

“Say, do you think you could give me a lift into the next town?”

One look at his watch told him that he was already an hour behind schedule, but the man looked desperate, causing him to agree, his eyes watching as the man slipped his hands into his pockets, a look of relief on his face.

Well, until the siren echoed in the distance.

It was a police car that drove past them, his eyes watching as the man hid behind the car, not reappearing until the car was long gone.

What was that about?

A look of confusion must’ve been on his face, because the man just climbed into the passenger's seat before he answered his question, propping his feet up onto the dashboard.

Didn’t he know how unsafe that was?

“I just escaped prison a couple of days ago. I was afraid he would recognize me.”

He kept his eyes on the road in front of them, but that didn’t stop him from responding, the question slipping out of his mouth before he knew it.

“Is that how you got the limp?”

And yes.

It was.

“I amputated two of my toes to get out of doing heavy labor. Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.”

“And may I ask what you did to get there?”

He was afraid that he was overstepping, but the man didn’t seem to mind, just went quiet, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought deeply about it.

Eventually though he just shook his head, before he answered the question, his greens eyes glancing out the window, the scenery a blur around them.

“I stole a car.”

He didn’t say anything else, the silence becoming heavy around them, and the man wincing once he spoke again, his question cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Is that all you did?”

The look on the man’s face was the only answer that he needed.

No.

It wasn’t.

They didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, not even when he pulled up in front of the library, taking the key out of the ignition, his brown eyes meeting the other man’s green eyes.

“Thanks for the ride…”

His words trailed off, and his eyes glanced towards the left before he spoke again, his lips twisting upwards with every word that he said.

“Edward.”

He walked away after that, disappearing in the distance and leaving the man sitting in the driver's seat with a frown on his face, one question on his mind.

How did he know his name?

It wasn’t until he entered the library when it came to him, the man checking in before he finally realized something.

He was wearing his name tag.

It was part of the uniform after all.

But, as the day passed, he couldn’t forget the mysterious man who hitchhiked a ride, the man who fixed his car in exchange for a ride.

And the sun was setting by the time he finally realized something.

He never got the man’s name.

Oops.

Chapter Text

Gotham, New Jersey, 1933.

Two days passed by before he saw him again.

It was during his lunch break when he saw the man again, the young man eating lunch at the counter, and a smile on his face as he spoke to Lee, catching up with her.

She just wiped the counter as they spoke, the man nibbling on his fries as she caught up with him, filling him in on her date night with Jim.

“You should’ve been there, Ed. He made a wonderful pot roast, and placed candles all over the table.

Oh, it was absolutely wonderful!”

And even he had to admit that it did sound lovely.

“I didn’t know Jim could cook.”

Those words were true.

He didn’t.

He just dipped a fry into a pile of ketchup, aware that his friend smiled even wider, her brown eyes bright when she spoke again.

“It was a family recipe. I have some leftovers in the back if you want some, Ed.”

He may have been expecting the words, but he just declined, continuing to eat his fries and glancing away, causing him to miss how she looked over his shoulder, a frown suddenly appearing on her face.

Now that was weird.

Very weird.

“Hey Ed. Do you know that man?”

Her words caught his attention, causing him to look up with wide eyes as he processed what she said, his brain one step behind when he spoke again.

“What?”

His brown eyes looked into her matching ones, watching as she tilted her head to the side, gesturing to the left when she spoke, her tone of voice softer this time.

“That man over there, Ed. The one that’s sitting over there at the corner table? He won’t stop looking at us.”

Indeed he wouldn’t.

His fries went forgotten as he looked over his shoulders, only to release an “oh” once he made eye contact with the man, who smiled once he saw him.

“You know him?”

And yeah.

He did.

“Excuse me, Lee.”

He just left the counter before he walked towards the man, who was stirring his straw around his water when he spoke again, causing a pair of dimples to appear in his cheeks.

He had dimples.

Oh God.

“Edward.”

Yes, that’s right.

He knew his name, but the younger man didn’t know his, causing him to lean against the empty chair when he spoke, aware that Lee continued watching them.

Of course she was.

“You never told me your name.”

That was true.

He didn’t.

But the man just smiled even wider, his eyes bright with amusement, his green eyes continuing to stare into his brown ones when he spoke again.

“You never asked for it.”

Okay.

That was also true.

But that wasn’t his fault.

He was late for work after all, not only that but his car broke down, leaving him stranded on the side of the road with nothing but a fog of smoke to prove it.

“Are you going to give me your name or not?”

His eyes continued watching the other man, who just took a sip of his water before he spoke again, answering his question.

“Oswald Kapelput.”

“Edward Nygma.”

The two men just shook hands, matching smiles on their faces and their eyes never looking away, the busy atmosphere of the diner around them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Edward.”

Again.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Oswald.”

And it was.

Before he knew it, he was returning back to work, the day passing by in a blur in the same routine of stocking the shelves and stamping books, making sure that everything was in order.

But only one thing was different.

He made a new friend.

For five years it was him and Lee, but now he had a new friend to add to the list, a man that he wanted to know more about.

What were his hobbies? His passions?

Well, besides stealing cars, that was, Oswald Kapelput was a mystery to him, one that he wanted to solve no matter what.

So he did.

He spent the next couple of days with the man, either at the diner or at the library after his shift, the man locking up for the evening and his new friend by his side, browsing through the shelves silently.

Their time together didn’t stop there though.

No.

They also hung out on the weekends, the two of them practically inseparable, and the rumors of their friendship spreading like wildfire as everyone tried to figure out who this mysterious Kapelput was.

He wasn’t from around there after all, and the town rarely got visitors, which is why the townspeople kept a close eye on him, watching the two men closely.

They were afraid that Ed was being manipulated- or worse, that he was being used, and getting taken advantage of.

The people of Gotham took care of their own after all.

Which brings us to now.

It’s been two weeks since they met, the two men as close as ever, not a day passing by when they weren’t together, sometimes alone, but sometimes with Lee.

Who didn’t suspect a thing.

But we’ll get to that later.

Trust me.

It was a Saturday evening, the moon high in the sky and the two men sitting in the backyard of the man’s farmhouse, smoke in the air from the cigarette that Oswald was holding in his hand.

“If you weren’t a librarian, Ed, what would you be?”

Yeah.

And that was a good question, the man knowing that it would come sooner or later, especially since he’s already been told the other man’s dreams.

Oswald wanted to live a life without money, the man growing up in poverty, growing up getting bullied by the neighborhood kids due to the fact that he didn’t speak a word of English.

No.

In fact, his mother refused to learn, raising him in a fury of Hungarian, and leaving him to teach himself, the times both hard and difficult for him.

And things got worse after she died, the man finding himself on his own for the very first time, an eighteen year old who had nothing.

But he quickly made a name for himself, the man living a life of freedom, not having to worry about working a day in his life, the money free flowing.

Well until his arrest that was.

“I’ve always wanted to be famous.”

He was sitting on the porch when he spoke, his legs dangling off the edge and the older male sitting in front of his car, which was parked in front of the gate, facing them.

“It didn’t matter if it was as an actor or a singer. I just wanted to be on the stage performing.”

And those words were true.

He grew up seeing himself as an actor, maybe even as a singer, but the dream quickly died, getting beaten out of him by his father, who refused to have a wimp for a son.

Yeah.

I wish I was joking.

“Is that so?”

There was a look of amusement in Oswald’s eyes, and a short silence surrounded them before he spoke again, taking a drag of his cigarette, the smoke floating in a cloud of gray around them.

“Sing something for me.”

His face flushed red at those words, and he quickly shook his head, his eyes glancing away from the other man as a feeling of embarrassment rushed through him.

“Oh, no Oswald. I couldn’t.”

But the older man wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Unfortunately.

“Come on, Ed. Please?”

It must’ve been obvious that it would take more to convince him, which is why he thought about it for a couple of minutes, before he spoke again, switching tactics this time.

“Imagine we’re in a nightclub in that there Atlantic City. Me and Capone are sitting riverside and the crowd is going crazy.

Edward. Edward. Edward. What would you do then?”

A smirk just appeared on his face, and he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes watching as the brown haired male released a sigh, knowing that he had no choice in the matter.

But this was Oswald, a man who would never make fun of him, a man who respected him above all else.

He was his best friend.

Besides Lee, of course.

His hands may have been shaking, but he just stood up, picking up a piece of wood before he sang into it, his tone of voice echoing through the silence.

“How ‘bout a dance? What do you say? I got some moves that I’d love to show ya.

Let’s find a spot and dance the night away.

How ‘bout a dance? It’s always fun. Come over here, let me get to know ya.

Can’t beat a band to lift your spirits high. You look so handsome.”

To say that Ed was mesmerizing would be an understatement.

Because he was captivated by the man’s singing voice, and was unable to turn his eyes away, his green eyes staring into Ed’s brown ones the entire time.

“How ‘bout a dance? Let’s make a start. Music like this can really throw ya. You’ll lose the blues and you may lose your heart.

Tonight is the night I’ve been waiting for. Even the moon looks just right.

I’m sure the crowd will make room on the floor, when they see you look like you do.

So how ‘bout a dance? Let’s make a start. Music like this can really throw ya. You’ll lose the blues and you may lose your heart.

You’ll lose the blues and you may lose your heart.”

He couldn’t help but clap once the song ended, a smile on his face as he whistled, giving the man a standing ovation and causing his face to get even redder.

And man.

It was easy to embarrass Ed, wasn’t it?

“That was wonderful, Ed.”

And those words were true.

It really was.

Those words just got a shy smile out of the man, who climbed down from the porch, meeting him halfway, and the silver moon rays shining over them, their light in the darkness.

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so.”

And he didn’t know how it happened.

One moment he was looking into Ed’s eyes, while the next they were kissing, their lips connected in a passionate embrace, their faces red once they parted.

“That was…”

“Wonderful.”

It didn’t take long for them to kiss a second time, the two men continuing to stand in the backyard, before they pulled away again, their hands connected by this point.

“Do you want to stay?”

It was Ed who spoke, his tone of voice calm and his brown eyes continuing to stare into the older man’s green eyes, who nodded.

“Yes.”

The door closed behind them before they disappeared into the bedroom, this night cementing the end of their friendship and the start of something new.

A forbidden love that would last a lifetime.

Chapter Text

Gotham, New Jersey, 1933.

But the happiness didn’t last long.

Why?

It was a week later when it happened.

It was in the middle of his shift when the Sheriff and his Deputy showed up, frowns on their faces as they approached the front counter, a familiar red haired woman sitting behind the desk, her nose stuck in a book.

“Miss Kringle.”

Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a gray cardigan on top of her dress, small earrings in her ears and her glasses on her face as she looked up from her book, smiling at the officers.

“Harvey, Gordon. May I help you with something?”

This wasn’t normal.

No.

It was rare for the Sheriff and his Deputy to show up out of the blue, but she knew that they were there for a reason, one thought on her thought.

Something happened.

But what?

“We need to talk to Nygma. Is he here?”

A frown just appeared on her face at those words, and her hand paused on top of her book, while the other pushed her glasses up her nose, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Edward? May I ask why?”

Because this wasn’t normal.

No.

Ed was an outstanding citizen.

He was the type of man who never got into trouble, one who followed the rules and never broke the law, a perfectly normal man.

So why would they want to talk to him of all people?

She didn’t question it though, just rang the bell that was sitting on top of the wooden surface, the sound echoing through the silence, and getting the attention of her assistant.

Of course it did.

He was taking inventory in the back when the bell sounded, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and his knees sore as he placed the pen and paper down, getting up off the floor.

Kristen never rang the bell- it was to only be used in an emergency, a fact that she made clear to him when he first started working through five years ago.

It’s never been used.

Not once.

Until now at least.

But he didn’t complain, just stretched his legs as he walked out of the back room and towards the front, his boss sitting behind the desk, waiting for him.

“Miss Kringle?”

It was at the moment when he realized something.

She wasn’t alone.

No.

Because the Sheriff and his Deputy were standing in front of her, looks of boredom on their faces, and their eyes looking towards him once he spoke, causing him to falter slightly.

“Uh…”

What were they doing here?

Almost like she could read his mind, it was Kristen who answered his question, her tone of voice calm when she spoke again, her eyes watching him closely.

“These men want to talk to you, Edward. Take them in the back, will you?”

And it was obvious that he had no choice in the matter.

She was his boss after all.

“Yes ma’am.”

Before he knew it, he was leading the two men into the back room, not saying anything as he closed the door behind him, his eyes calm as he stared at the two men who were standing in front of him.

“Can I help you with something?”

To say that he was confused would be an understatement.

He didn’t know why they were there.

No.

And he didn’t do anything wrong, not to mention the fact that he had a good track record for following the rules.

He didn’t speed, or smoke while driving, he didn’t even drink, preferring to drink either water or coke whenever he went to the bar with Lee.

Which wasn’t often, to be honest.

No.

Not at all.

The two men just looked at each other, the older man lighting a cigarette while his partner pulled out a piece of paper, his tone of voice calm when he spoke again.

And it was a wanted poster by the looks of things.

This wasn’t strange at all.

“We need to ask you a couple of questions, Nygma. Mainly about Oswald Cobblepot.”

I’m sorry?

“Who?”

The blonde haired man just gestured towards the poster, his blue eyes watching as the taller man took it, his hands unsteady with nervousness.

And he didn’t know what to expect, to be honest.

But it wasn’t this.

Because it was Oswald’s face that was staring up at him, the mugshot a recent one and bold letters at the top of the page, smaller words typed beneath them.

He was right.

It was a wanted poster.

Wanted Dead or Alive:

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot.
Wanted for burglary, stealing a car, murder, and escaping jail.

If you see this man, please call the Sheriff's office immediately. The man is a dangerous individual and shouldn’t be approached.

Written underneath was the number for the local Sheriff's department, his face void of emotion and the two men continuing to look at him, their eyes watching him closely.

“I’m sorry. Am I supposed to know who this is?”

He may have been calm and collected on the inside, but that couldn’t have been any farther than the truth.

Why?

Because on the inside he was shocked.

The man staring up at him was Oswald Kapelput.

His boyfriend.

The man that fixed his car, and the man that he fell in love with, the one who encouraged him to put on a performance and sing for him.

He couldn’t believe it.

Oswald was a criminal.

Not only that, but he was the Penguin, the head of the notorious Cobblepot Gang.

He just couldn’t believe it.

And apparently the two men could see through his act, because it was the older man who spoke, his tone of voice calm with every word that he said, and smoke in the air as he took a drag of his cigarette, before crushing it underneath his shoe.

“Cut the crap, Nygma. We have an eye witness who saw you two together, one who was adamant that you were helping him.”

His eyes just widened at those words, and his brain was on overdrive as he tried to figure out who the witness was.

He didn’t know who it could be.

Well, actually scratch that.

“It was Isabella, was it?”

Because Kristen’s sister has always hated him- he didn’t know why, she just did, a woman who always tried to get in between his friendship with Lee.

So did Jim, now that I think about it.

But you know what I mean.

The man didn’t say anything, just ignored his statement as he turned towards his partner, who was already pulling out the handcuffs, knowing what was coming.

“Arrest him.”

What?

“Wait a moment.”

His protests went ignored though, the blonde haired man just doing his job as he placed the cuffs around his wrists, before grabbing his arm roughly.

“Come on, Nygma. We can talk about this more at the station.”

What happened next was humiliating.

He wasn’t just led out of the library in handcuffs, but he was also forced into the back of the squad car, aware that the townsfolk were staring at him, and of the whispers that echoed through the silence.

Even Lee was looking at them, her expression one of shock as she watched her husband arrest her best friend.

“Is that Nygma?”

“It’s always the quiet ones, my ma always said.”

Yeah.

Humiliating.

But he was just taken into the station, where he had his fingerprints taken, before he found himself in an interrogation room, his wrist handcuffed to the table.

Eh.

It could be worse.

“Ready to confess, Nygma?”

He couldn’t believe it.

He just couldn’t.

He spent his whole life following the rules, and this is where he ended up? At the station like a common criminal?

Unbelievable.

“Confess? I already told you. I don’t know Oswald Cobblepot.”

Technically that was true.

And speaking of Oswald.

He was probably long gone by now, the man’s eyes watching as the Sheriff just shook his head, before he ordered his partner to take him to the cell, the silence a heavy one.

Which is how he found himself sitting on an uncomfortable cot, his body facing the bars as he leaned his head against the wall as he released a sigh.

Unbelievable.

Just unbelievable.

The sigh quickly became one of frustration at the footsteps that were echoing through the hall, the ones that got closer and closer to his cell, causing him to snap his eyes wide open.

“I already told you guys! I don’t know…”

He trailed however once his brown eyes met the familiar green ones of the man in question, a smile on his face as he held a gun over his shoulder, a group of men behind him.

“Hello Edward.”

“Oswald? What are you doing here?”

Wasn’t he wanted by the cops?

“What does it look like I’m doing, Ed? I’m breaking you out.”

Breaking him out?

It took his brain a while to catch up, but, once he did, he just furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, his brown eyes never looking away from his boyfriends green ones.

No.

Not even once.

“You’re breaking me out? Why?”

The man just sighed, glancing at him briefly, before he signaled for the men to leave them alone, their footsteps fading away before he spoke again, softer this time.

“Because I love you, stupid. And I wanted to ask you to come with me.”

He just held his hand out, a small smile on his face as he continued watching the younger man, a look of hesitation on his face.

“Come with you?”

He couldn’t.

And he knew that.

“I can’t come with you, Oswald. I have a life here.”

“Yeah, a life that you hate, Ed. Admit it. You hate your job at the library and you hate your boss even more.”

Alright.

Those words were true, and Oswald did have a point, but that didn’t mean that he could just leave.

And what about Lee?

He didn’t realize that he said those words out loud, until Oz squeezed his hand lightly, his eyes bright with the next words that he said.

“I’m sure Lee would understand, Ed. If she’s really your friend, she’ll stand by your side, even through all of this.”

But there was still one thing left to address.

“If I go with you, Oz, I’ll be a fugitive.”

And those words were true.

He would be.

“I know, Ed. Can you live with that?”

Could he?

Could he live knowing that his name and face would be out there, that every Sheriff in the country would be looking for him, that he’d be spending the rest of his life on the run.

Could he really live with that?

But he loved Oswald, and he could see himself spending the rest of his life for him, knowing that the other man felt the same.

So that was the only answer that he needed.

“I’m in.”

He just took his hand after that, before the cell door opened and the two of them were running towards the exit, an atmosphere of chaos behind them.

Before he knew it, they were sitting in the back of a stolen car, before they were speeding towards the town line, smiles on their faces as they kissed.

And one thing was for certain.

This was the start of their new lives together.

On the run.

Chapter Text

The Outskirts of Gotham, New Jersey, 1934.

Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma were the most wanted men in all of America.

It’s been a year and two months since their crime spree started.

A year and two months since the older man broke him out of jail, since the two men went on the run, living their lives bouncing around from place to place.

They stole cars to cover their tracks, and slept in abandoned buildings, never staying in the same place more than once.

No.

They would spend a week at one place, before leaving, ditching the car that they were driving, before they stole another one, always covering their tracks well.

They robbed bank after bank, and murdered anyone that got in their way, the two men having multiple crimes to their name.

They were the male version of Bonnie and Clyde, that’s for sure.

But throughout their life on the run, there was one thing that the younger man always looked forward to.

And that was his letters from Lee.

Because even after everything she was still his best friend.

She was sticking by him, her letters updating him on what was happening in her life, including the fact that she was now the mother of a little girl.

But she never mentioned her husband, a fact that he was thankful for, causing him to do the same, out of respect for her wishes.

She wasn’t mentioning Jim, so he wasn’t mentioning Oswald either, a fact that he knew she appreciated, even though she never mentioned it.

No.

All he wrote about was his life on the run, how they bounced around from place to place, never staying at the same place twice.

And the letters went one for a year and two months.

It was the part of his day that he always looked forward to, the letters from his best friend always putting a smile on his face, even though they drove Oz insane.

Like now, for example.

He was sitting cross legged on the floor, a pen in his mouth as he chewed the end of it, and a letter in his hand, the source of their conflict.

Why were they arguing?

Well, the answer to that was simple.

Lee wanted to meet.

She wanted to see him in person, a fact that worried his boyfriend immediately, the man not hesitating to mention the elephant in the room.

“It’s dangerous, Ed. Hasn’t it occurred to you that this may be a trap?”

The answer to that was obvious.

It hasn’t.

But this was Lee.

She was his best friend, the woman who’s stood by his side for five whole years, the woman who took his deflection with reasonable hesitation.

She would never do that to him.

And he told Oswald that, the words causing him to sigh as he contiued pacing, an action that was starting to give him a headache, to be honest.

Which was why he just wrapped his arm around his waist, before he pulled him into a kiss, one that didn’t last long, before they were pulling away.

“It’ll just be for one hour, Oz. By the time the cops get there, we’ll be gone.”

That was the plan, anyways.

His eyes watched as his boyfriend sighed, his eyes softening before he spoke again, his fingers squeezing him gently.

“Fine, Ed. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Before he knew it, he was writing a response to his friend's letter, his handwriting shaky but readable, three simple words on the page.

We’ll be there.

A week later they just left the city of Manhattan, before they found themselves driving towards the town of Gotham, a town that they hadn’t been to in years.

No.

And you know why that was.

They were a half hour into their drive when the older man spoke, his tone of voice calm and his hands on the wheel as he glanced at his boyfriend, a smile on his face.

“Sing for me, Ed.”

So he did.

“You’ll lose the blues and you may lose your heart.”

Their hands were connected by the time they were an hour away from their destination, a comfortable silence surrounding them and the two men focused on the road in front of them.

Which is how he noticed it.

“Pull over, Oswald.”

Standing on the side of the road was Lee, her hair shorter and her hands behind her back as she fidgeted nervously, the sound of a car getting her attention.

She just turned her head, causing her brown eyes to meet the matching ones of her best friend, the smile growing on his face once he noticed her.

One that she couldn’t help but return.

“Lee!”

He just ran towards her, before he was pulling her into a hug, spinning her sprint and causing her to giggle lightly, the man placing her onto the ground by the time the older man approached them.

“Mrs Tompkins.”

“Mister Cobblepot.”

They may have hated each other, but they were doing this for Ed’s sake, the two of them the most important people in his life.

Speaking of which.

The smile faded from his face once he noticed her expression, her hands folded behind her and her eyes darting back and forth, almost like she was hiding something.

Something important.

Something bad.

“Lee? What’s wrong?”

His words caused her to smile sadly, her eyes glancing behind her and the tension leaving her face when she spoke again, her words practically a whisper.

“You shouldn’t have come, Ed.”

What?

Well, this was unexpected.

He just exchanged a look with Oswald, before he spoke again, his tone of voice calm and his eyes bright as he grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

“You invited us, Lee. You’re the one that wanted to see me.”

And those words were true.

She was.

But she couldn’t do this- she couldn’t turn on her best friend, she knew that she couldn’t betray him like this.

He needed to leave while he still could.

“I know, Ed. But…”

She never finished her sentence.

Why?

Because the sounds of gunshots echoed through the silence, the three of them caught off guard for different reasons.

In case you were wondering, Lee knew that this was coming.

She knew that she was leading her best friend and his man into a trap, that the two men were walking into their deaths.

Literally.

And she had no choice but to watch it happen in front of her eyes, tears in her eyes at the fact that she did this.

This was her fault.

Not Ed’s or Oswald’s.

No.

This was all on her.

While Ed and Oswald went down holding hands.

Their love for each other proved to be strong, even when a flurry of bullets rained down on them, the two men unable to fight back.

No.

For once in their lives they were powerless.

And Lee may have survived the attack that day, but the same couldn’t be said for her best friend or his criminal boyfriend.

No.

That was the day Oswald and Ed’s crime spree came to an end- the two men gunned down to death, led into a trap by the last person that they expected.

And they fell for it.

Cobblepot and Nygma Gone for Good, the headlines read, the news of their deaths making the headlines of every newspaper in the country.

It was on the front pages of every newspaper, everyone buying the paper to read about what happened, sighs of reliefs being released by everyone everywhere.

And their deaths came only three months after the deaths of Bonnie and Clyde, the country able to sleep peacefully now that the reign of terror was gone for good.

Literally.

Both criminals may have been gone, but their spirits would live on through their memories, both couples going on to become a legend themselves.

Because, just like Bonnie and Clyde, both Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma would be the stuff of legends, their names living on forever.

They weren’t just a criminal couple.

No.

They were also the first openly gay couple in American history, the two men ahead of their time, making a name for themselves even in the homophobic era of the 1930’s.

Everyone would know their names.

And that would never change.

The End.

Chapter Text

Somewhere South of New Jersey, 1933.

It’s been a month since he went on the run.

One month since he ran off with Oswald, since he dropped everything and chose the love of his life, leaving his boring life of being a librarian's assistant behind him.

And he had to admit that the life of crime was thrilling.

Robbing banks with the love of his life gave him a sense of excitement that he’s only dreamed of, his name in the paper and his face on the front page of every newspaper in the country.

He was famous.

It was everything that he’s always wanted.

He was sitting on the bed that evening, the silver rays of the moon shining through the window next to him, a look of concentration on his face as he tapped his pen lightly onto the page.

He was writing a poem.

And writing has always come easy for him, the man having a lonely childhood, his only friend being the diary that he kept under his pillow, the one that he wrote in daily.

He left home when he was seventeen, a runaway, a boy who slept in the back of train cars, pickpocketing and stealing just to earn some cash, the only way that he could take care of himself.

He may not have been proud of it, but it was his only way of surviving at the time.

When he was twenty two he moved to Gotham, buying the farmhouse for cheap, and getting a job at the library, where he worked for five years.

But now?

Now he was free- free to live his life the way that he wanted, no more boring jobs or having a boss who looked down on him.

Yeah.

He was living the dream.

The Story of Oswald and Ed was written on the top of the page, his brain blank as he thought about what to add, the minutes ticking by as he continued thinking about it.

One minute became two, and two became three, four minutes passing by before it came to him, the words being written in his messy but still readable handwriting, a smile on his face.

You have heard the story of Billy the Kid, how he lived and died. But if you’re still in need of something to read, here is the story of Oswald and Ed.

It was good so far, the man rereading what he wrote, before he added onto it, the words coming to him as he continued writing, the minutes flying by.

Now Oswald and Edward are the Cobblepot Gang. I’m sure you have read how they rob and steal, and how those that squeal are usually found dying or dead.

There are lots of untruths to their story, there is no denying that. They hate all the law, pigeons, spotters and rats.

They claim they are cold blooded killers, they say they are heartless and mean. But I say with pride that I once knew Oz when he was honest, upright and clean.

He continued writing, and was on his second page when his boyfriend returned back to the hideout, a small smile on his face which was filled with exhaustion.

But there was a duffle bag of cash in his hand, one that he placed next to the door, running a hand through his hair when he spoke, his tone of voice calm with every word.

“Ed?”

Oh.

To say that the man was startled would be an understatement.

He didn’t hear the older man return after all, the man placing his pen down and rubbing his wrist when he smiled, his brown eyes meeting his lover's green ones.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

And those words were true.

He didn’t.

“Did you get the money?”

It was obvious that he did, the smile slipping off his face at the sigh that the man released, a hand running down his face and a unfamiliar emotion on his face.

Was that…

Regret?

“Oswald? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

And he was.

He just got off the bed, before he walked towards the other man, pulling him into a kiss before he spoke again, his tone of voice calm and their foreheads pressed together, their eyes staring deeply into each other’s.

“Oz, you can tell me anything. You know that right?”

Indeed he did.

But that didn’t make this easy though, the man pulling away before he spoke, his tone of voice hestant, and a part of him knowing how this would go.

Ed needed to know after all- he needed to know what he was getting into, because one thing was obvious.

It was too late to turn back now.

And the two of them knew this.

“The robbery went smoothly, Ed, but I was leaving when a young cop approached me. He wanted to play the part of the hero.”

He could still see it vividly.

How the man approached him, his hand shaky as he pointed the gun at him, his finger itching to pull the trigger.

But the kid was too slow.

“Oswald?”

The gunshot echoed through his ears, and it was obvious that Ed was concerned, his eyes soft and his touch gentle as he squeezed his hand gently.

“I killed him, Ed. I pulled the trigger and killed him.”

Because those words were true.

This may not have been his first murder, but it was his first murder as Ed’s boyfriend, and he knew what this meant for the both of them.

He was now wanted for the murder of a young Deputy, the stakes getting even higher for him, especially now that he was dragging Ed down with him.

And he knew that there was only one option.

“Leave Ed. Go back to Gotham. I’m sure they’ll clear your name if you just explain.”

Explained what?

That he was in love with a known outlaw?

That Oswald Cobblepot was the love of his life, the man a wanted criminal, murderer, and the head of the Cobblepot Gang.

That he loves the Penguin of all people?

No.

Leaving wasn’t an option at this point.

Especially not for him.

“It’s too late for that, Oz. I can’t turn back the clock, and I have to accept the choices that I made.

I chose you willingly. It’s us against the world. Literally.”

And yes.

It was.

He just smiled softly as he pulled Ed into a kiss, one that was slow and passionate before they pulled away, his green eyes glancing towards the notebook that was lying on the bed.

“What are you writing?”

Those words got a smile out of his lover, who just took his hand, before he dragged him towards the bed, pushing him down, before he sat next to him, his tone of voice soft when he spoke again.

“A poem. Why? Do you want to hear it?”

Yes.

He did.

The silence was the only answer that Ed needed, his hands steady as he opened the notebook, and the man aware that his boyfriend’s green eyes continued to look at him,watching as he smiled softly, his brown eyes glancing at the older man briefly.

“I’m afraid it's not finished yet.”

“That don’t matter, Ed. You know I love it when you read to me.”

And those words were true.

He did.

Before he knew it, he was reading the words out loud for his boyfriend, his tone of voice calm against the silence, one hand holding the notepad and the other squeezing his boyfriend’s lightly.

“You have heard the story of Billy the Kid, how he lived and died. But if you’re still in need of something to read, here is the story of Oswald and Ed.”

And the moon continued shining over them as he read, releasing his hand so that he could flip the page, nearing the end of his little poem.

“Now Oswald and Edward are the Cobblepot Gang. I’m sure you have read how they rob and steal, and how those that squeal are usually found dying or dead.

There are lots of untruths to their story, there is no denying that. They hate all the law, pigeons, spotters and rats.

They claim they are cold blooded killers, they say they are heartless and mean. But I say with pride that I once knew Oz when he was honest, upright and clean.”

“Are you writing about me?”

His words were interrupted by Oswald, who continued smiling at him as he peaked over his shoulder so that he could read the words on the page, causing him to cup his hand, blocking the words from view.

“Do you want me to continue or are you going to keep interrupting me?”

Yeah.

Good question.

His boyfriend didn’t say anything, just waved his hand and causing him to smile even wider as he resumed reading his poem, the words cutting through the silence around them.

“But the law fooled around, kept taking him down, and locking him up in a cell.

Still he ended up saying to me, “I will never be free, so I will meet a few of them in Hell.”

This road was so dimly lighted, there was no highway signs to guide, but they made up their minds.

If the roads were all blind, they wouldn’t give up until they died.”

And that was the end of the page.

He just looked into the green eyes of his boyfriend, who pulled him close, kissing the top of his head before he spoke again, a small smile on his face.

“That was beautiful, Ed.”

And he was speaking the truth.

It really was.

“Do you really think so?“

They just kissed a third time, before the older man spoke again, the two of them lying beside each other at this point, the notepad forgotten on the floor below them.

“I know so, Ed.”

I mean, he knew that his boyfriend was creative, but that had to be one of the best poems that he’s ever heard, the words sticking with him.

And the silence was interrupted when he spoke again, the man switching his position so that he was lying propped up on his elbow, his eyes staring at his boyfriend who was now below him.

“You know, you should think about getting that published.”

There was a pause before the younger man perked his head up, a look of confusion on his face as he turned and looked at him.

“Should I? Do you really think they’d publish it?”

He didn’t think they would, to be honest.

They were fugitives after all, men who had wanted posters all over the East Coast, men who had a thousand dollar reward to their name.

Which was interesting considering this day and age.

If you know what I mean.

But Oswald must’ve thought otherwise, because it didn’t take him long to reply, his green eyes bright as he grabbed his hand, his lips gentle as he kissed the back of it.

“They’ll publish anything that involves us, Ed. You know this.”

Oh yeah.

They would, wouldn’t they?

And his boyfriend had a point, which is why, a week later, a completed version of his poem was printed onto the front page of the paper, the headline typed in bold.

The Story of Oswald and Ed, the headline read, followed by the day's date, along with the name of the author.

Edward Nygma.

And he still couldn’t believe it.

“I’m famous, Oz. I can’t believe this.”

His finger was tracing the words on the page when he spoke, arms wrapping themselves around his waist before a pair of lips kissed the back of his neck, followed by a tone of voice that he knew so well.

Oswald Cobblepot.

“I always knew you would do it.”

And those words were true.

Because the older man has always believed in him- even when he was a poor librarian's assistant in the small town of Gotham.

Oswald never stopped believing in him.

“I love you.”

His words were followed by a kiss, his brown eyes meeting his boyfriend's green ones, before the older man spoke, his tone of voice just as calm as he returned those three simple words.

“I love you too, Ed.”

And the two of them knew one thing.

Nothing could tear them apart.

No.

The two of them were meant to be together, their love strong, one that was meant to last a lifetime.

They were soulmates, the two men having a connection that no one else had, their love rooted deeper that other couples could only imagine.

It was the two of them against the world.

Forever and always.

Chapter Text

The Story of Oswald and Ed by Edward Nygma.

You have heard the story of Billy the Kid, how he lived and died. But if you’re still in need of something to read, here is the story of Oswald and Ed.

Now Oswald and Edward are the Cobblepot Gang. I’m sure you have read how they rob and steal, and how those that squeal are usually found dying or dead.

There are lots of untruths to their story, there is no denying that. They hate all the law, pigeons, spotters and rats.

They claim they are cold blooded killers, they say they are heartless and mean. But I say with pride that I once knew Oz when he was honest, upright and clean.

But the law fooled around, kept taking him down, and locking him up in a cell.

Still he ended up saying to me, “I will never be free, so I will meet a few of them in Hell.”

This road was so dimly lighted, there was no highway signs to guide, but they made up their minds.

If the roads were all blind, they wouldn’t give up until they died.

The road gets dimmer and dimmer, sometimes you can hardly see, still it’s a fight, man to man, and do all you can for they can never be free.

If they try to act like citizens and rent themselves a nice little flat, about the third night they are invited to fight by a submachine gun, Rat Tat Tat.

If a policeman is killed in the process, and they have no clue for a guide, they just wipe the slate clean and hang it on Oswald and Ed.

Two crimes have been committed in America, not credited to the Cobblepot Gang, for they had no hand in the kidnapping or the murder of a family man.

A newsboy once said to his buddy, “I wish old Oz would get jumped in these awful hard times. We might make a quick dime if 5 or 6 lawmen get jumped.”

The police haven’t got the report yet, Oz sent a wireless today, saying “we have a peace flag of white, we stretch out at night, hiding in plain sight.”

They don’t think us clever, they think the law always win. They have been shot at before, but they do not ignore that death wipes out the sins of the flesh.

From heartbreak some people have suffered, from weariness some people have died, but take it all in stride. Their troubles are small until they become like Oswald and Ed.

Someday they will go down together, and they will be buried side by side. To a few it means grief, to the law it means relief, but it comes at the death of Oswald and Ed.

The End.

Chapter Text

Tampa, Florida, 1933.

It happened on Christmas Eve.

It’s been five months since they went on the run.

For five months they’ve been driving through the Eastern side of the country, robbing banks along the way, and stealing cars, the two men covering their tracks well.

You see, they started in New Jersey, but soon found themselves taking their crime spree all over the Eastern Side.

Delaware? Check.

West Virginia? Double Check.

DC? Triple Check.

It didn’t matter where it was- no, all that mattered was if it had a bank, the two men robbing as many banks as they could before they fled, never using the same car twice.

No.

They would only drive it for so many miles before they would dump it- the two long gone by the time it would be found, and the police called.

And was this ideal?

Well, no.

But it worked well for them.

From July to December, they moved from state to state, robbing banks and stealing cars, the body count rising with every bank that they robbed.

But most of the deaths weren’t caused by them.

They weren’t murderers- the two of them only killing if someone got in their way, like, for example, any witness that saw what they did.

More often than not they’d be found in a ditch in a field somewhere.

Anyways.

Moving on.

The date was December 24th.

It was Christmas Eve, the snow falling down lightly as the two men drove through the Eastern Coast, smoke in the air around them.

But they weren’t alone.

No.

Edward may have been behind the wheel and Oswald in the seat beside him, but there was another couple in the seat behind them, a buff looking man and a slender woman with dark hair and eyes.

Butch Gilzean and Tabitha Galavan.

In case you were wondering, the other man was an old friend of Oz’s from jail, the couple breaking him out two months ago, inviting him to come join them.

So it wasn’t surprising when he accepted their offer, the man giving them his address so that they could stop by his house and pick up his wife.

Yes.

That’s correct.

Tabitha Galavan was his wife, a pastor's daughter, but a woman who was skilled with a gun, a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth when she spoke, her dark colored eyes watching the three men closely.

“Let me join too.”

And he may have been hesitant to allow her to come with them, but it was his precious Ed that convinced him otherwise.

Especially since Butch and Tabitha were a pair, they have been since their wedding two years prior.

So the answer to that was simple.

They did.

For two months the four of them have been traveling together, continuing to rob banks and kill people randomly, stealing cars to get away.

Which brings us to now.

It was in the small town of Tampa when their car broke down, the four of them having no choice but to keep moving, a fugitive's life never ending.

If you know what I mean.

And it was Oswald’s idea to steal a new car, the four of them sneaking through the nearest neighborhood before they found the perfect vehicle, a four seater model T that was dark in color.

It was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

It was a car that belonged to a father of four, the man currently helping his youngest place the star on top of the tree when his wife spoke, her words catching his attention.

“They’re stealing our car, Darryl!”

Indeed they were.

Parked in the driveway was their car, their eyes watching as four hooligans got inside, two men in the front and a man and woman in the back.

And this wasn’t good.

No.

Not at all.

“Stay here.”

His tone of voice was calm, and, before his family knew it, he was grabbing his shotgun off the wall before he walked onto the porch, his tone of voice harsh with every word.

“Hey you! Come back here!”

The car just sped off through, but that didn’t stop him from following them, banging his hand against the window, and the noise getting the attention of all four people in the passenger seat.

The man driving just kept his eyes on the road, while the man in the passenger seat just cursed, but it was the couple in the back that caused the real problem for them.

What do I mean by this?

Well, the answer was simple really.

Butch and Tabby just exchanged a smile, before the woman pulled out a gun, pointing it at the window and pulling the trigger, the bullet shattering the window as it went through the glass.

“What the hell!?”

Yeah.

Good question.

Oswald may have ducked in time, but that didn’t stop the bullet from striking the man in the face, blood flying everywhere and causing his wife to scream in agony, their four children watching through the window.

While she kneeled next to her husband begging for him to stay with her, the car just sped off, the man’s knuckles white against the wheel and his boyfriend’s anger cutting through the silence like a knife.

And one thing was certain.

He wasn’t happy.

No.

He was pissed.

“What the hell, Tabby?!”

He could already see the headline.

Father of Four Shot and Killed. Is the Cobblepot Gang To Blame For This?

They didn’t need this.

No.

They didn’t need the attention that went along with this- he was already wanted for the murder of that young Deputy after all, and he knew that he didn’t need another body count on his head.

No.

Not again.

“He had a gun, Oz! What was I supposed to do? Let him shoot us?”

And those words may have been true, but that didn’t excuse her actions, the woman keeping her tone of voice calm and the expression off her face.

But she wasn’t remorseful.

No.

And that was obvious to all four of them.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to get cut off by Ed, who continued staring at the road when he spoke, making a good point like always.

“Guys, no fighting. Please. The past is in the past. All that matters now is finding a place to stay for the night.”

Yeah.

Always the planner, his Eddie.

That was why no one said anything for the rest of the drive, which didn’t last long, only an hour passing by before they pulled up at a hotel, getting a room for the night.

The first room was for Butch and Tabitha, while the second one was for Oz and Ed, the two men sitting together on the bed, the older man’s arm around his waist as he tapped his pen to his chin, a notepad open in front of him.

“I love you.”

His brown eyes were bright as he looked into the man’s green ones, a smile on his face as responded, the silence soon interrupted by the moan that came through the vent that connected both rooms.

“I love you too.”

He couldn’t help but wince though, a disgusted look on his face as he glanced at the vent, the action getting a small laugh out of Oswald, just just kissed the top of his head when he spoke again.

“God, does she have to be so loud?”

He may not have known Tabby as long as his boyfriend, but he already knew that he didn’t like her for a variety of different reasons.

One, she was obnoxious.

Two, she was childish and plain annoying at times.

But it was the third reason that really made his blood boil.

It may have only been two months since she and Butch joined them, but that didn’t stop her from forgetting her place in the gang.

Why?

Because she was constantly making moves at Oz, not only flirting with him, but also butting in and questioning his decisions and his place in the gang.

She didn’t like him.

No.

And she knew that he didn’t like her either.

But she was the wife of Butch Gilzean, who was the best friend of his boyfriend, the man knowing that he had no choice but to accept her as a part of his life.

Unfortunately.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but his notepad was on the floor, and his boyfriend was on top of him, shaking him awake and his tone of voice filled with urgency when he spoke, interrupting the nightly silence.

“Edward? Ed, get up. Quickly.”

Something was wrong.

He just sat up in bed, wrapping the sheets around him as he slid his glasses on, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he spoke, his brown eyes watching his partner in crime closely.

Because that was what they were.

They were partners in crime.

Literally.

“What’s going on?”

There wasn’t time to explain.

No.

The silence just grew even heavier around them, his eyes continuing to watch as the older man looked out the window, his hand moving away from the curtain when he spoke again.

“It’s the cops, Ed. They’re outside.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

They got to work after that, changing out of their night clothes before they packed up their things, the two men moving as quickly as they could.

All while the cops stood in a line outside the hotel they were staying in.

Oh God.

“This is the police. We’ve got you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”

But would they?

No.

Of course they wouldn’t.

He was knocking on the adjoining door when the gun went off, the gunshot from Oz’s gun echoing through the silence, and causing a shootout to break out.

And the noise woke up Butch and Tabby, both couples trapped in their rooms during the first couple of minutes, the three men shooting out the window, while the woman packed up her and her husband's things as quickly as she could.

There were bullet holes in the walls and the lamp was completely shattered by the time they exited the room, the bullets going over their head as they ducked, reuniting with Butch and Tabby in the hall outside of their rooms.

But it wouldn’t be an escape without its struggles.

It was Oswald who was injured first, a bullet getting stuck in his shoulder, and causing him to release a gasp of pain as he continued holding the younger man’s hand, leading him towards the garage where the car was.

It may have been a flesh wound, but Butch and Tabby weren’t so lucky.

No.

Butch was hit in the back of his neck, dropping dead on the top of the stairs while Tabby let out a scream after she was hit in the eye, blood pouring out of the hole in the middle of her face.

She just kneeled down beside her husband, which left the two men to step over them, not stopping until they reached the car, neither one of them saying anything as they climbed inside.

And the younger man started the engine, while his boyfriend took out his gun and cocked it, pointing it out the window when he spoke again, his tone of voice calm and hesitance in his brown eyes as he glanced at the love of his life.

Oswald Cobblepot.

The leader of their little gang.

The Penguin.

“We can’t leave them.”

And those words were true.

Butch may have been dead, but he deserved to be buried like a proper man, the least that the two of them could do for him.

While Tabby was blind in one eye, and they knew that she wouldn’t leave without her husband, and her wounded screaming just confirmed that to the two of them.

But that didn’t stop the shorter man from shaking his head, his tone of voice calm and his touch gentle as he grabbed his boyfriend's hand, a small smile on his face as he looked at him.

“Just drive, Ed.”

Well then.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and his eyes glanced towards the young woman, who was cradling her husband's head in her lap, not caring about the fact that blood was getting all over her dress.

She really did love him, didn’t she.

“But Tabby…”

“For God's sake, Ed. Drive! You don’t want them to get us too, do you?”

And no.

He didn’t.

That was why he just pressed his foot down onto the peddle, ignoring the woman’s screams that came behind them, the dark haired girl calling them traitors.

Because that was what they were.

They left her there to get arrested, all while the two of them made their escape, known criminals who were always one step ahead of the cops.

And that was exactly what happened.

He just kept his eyes on the road as he drove through the garage door and passed the police cars, the officers and Oswald going back and forth shooting each other, the gunshots echoing through the silence around them.

While the cops dropped dead like flies, the bullets just bounced off the metal of the- stolen- car, allowing the two men to get away, the drive going on for hours before he finally pulled over onto the side of the road.

The sun was rising at this point, the two men sitting with their backs to the car, knowing that they needed to dispose of it.

But he needed to do something first.

“Hold still, Oswald.”

His words were an order, his tone of voice calm as he poured some gin onto a cloth, before he held it onto his boyfriend's shoulder, who just released a hiss of pain.

But it was just a flesh wound, dried blood around the wound as he continued cleaning it, allowing the older man to squeeze his hand as tightly as he could.

By the time he finished, the sun was fully risen, the two men out in the open, knowing that they needed to get moving before the cops caught up with them.

And they didn’t want that.

No.

Definitely not.

“Come on. We need to get going.”

They were two hours outside of Tampa by the time they pulled up to a corner store, his tone of voice calm as he bought some food, along with a pack of water and some bandages.

And he pulled out his wallet to pay, unaware that he left a bloodstain on the counter, one that the employee noticed right away, not acting until the car pulled away.

What did he do?

He just went into the back to call the police, his tone of voice calm as he identified the man as Edward Nygma, the wanted fugitive.

Yes.

That Edward Nygma.

The search continued after that.

The two men were long gone by the time the police arrived, but the multiple departments just worked together, each and every one of them determined to bring the two men in.

Dead or alive.

Chapter Text

Somewhere Outside of Tampa, 1933.

Charlie’s Deli was a tiny place.

It was a small corner store, a place that was built out of red and brown brick, a one story building that stood in the middle of nowhere on the side of a dusty road.

It was owned by his father, an older man with salt and pepper hair who was getting older in age, his movements not as young as he used to be.

Which is why a young man was standing behind the counter, the shelf that stood behind him having anything that anyone could ever wish for.

There were bandages, along with packs of meat and sausages, some bread and a pack of water, the bright sun shining through the large open windows.

And there were no customers.

No.

Absolutely none.

He couldn’t help but sigh, resting the palm of his hand on his chin, before lifting his head up as the sounds of ties on the gravel driveway got his attention.

Someone was coming.

It wasn’t long before a car pulled up into the station, two men in the front seat, and the sun blurring his vision, causing him to turn away, his eyes watching the door instead.

Which is how he watched as the door opened, a tall man with brown hair and glasses entering the shop, one who looked at his surroundings before he walked up to the counter, after making sure that he was alone.

His shirt was untucked, and his belt was down the wrong way, almost like he put it on in a rush, the thought causing him to shake his head.

It didn’t matter.

It wasn’t any of his business, after all.

The man just smiled nervously, before he spoke, his tone of voice calm and his brown eyes filled with hesitation, his hands shaking as his fingers tapped on the wood counter lightly.

“Hi. Um, can I get a pack of bread, along with one pack of that water over there.”

He just turned his back as he got to work, grabbing both the bread along with the water before he placed the packs down onto the counter, preparing to ring them up when the man spoke again.

“Oh. Can I also get some of those bandages?”

His eyes just watched the other man closely, the brown orbs watching as the man sighed, before he turned back around, grabbing the roll of bandages, before he spoke, his tone of voice monotone, almost like he was bored.

And who knows.

Maybe he was.

It did seem like a slow day, that’s for sure.

“That’ll be $1.35.”

He just pulled out his wallet, thankful for the fact that he had plenty of cash on him, both him and Oswald having some left over from the last robbery that they commited.

If you know what I mean.

His hands continued to shake as he took out the bill and change, placing both the dollar and coins onto the counter, unaware that the side of his hand touched the wood, leaving a small streak of red behind.

Blood.

It was blood.

And he remained oblivious to the fact that the man glanced at it before he looked back at him, just gave him a polite smile when he spoke, his hands going on to grab the items that were on the counter in front of them.

“Have a nice day.”

“You too, sir.”

He just left after that, the door closing behind him and a couple of seconds passing by before the man acted, leaving his post at the counter, before he walked towards the door, standing in the doorway.

The man’s back was to him, his body leaning against the side of the door as he spoke to the passenger, a shorter man with black hair and green eyes.

And he knew one thing.

He’s seen those men before.

But where?

His eyes just watched as the man handed his friend the things that he bought, the sight nothing out of the ordinary and causing him to return to his post, the newspaper sitting on the stool, waiting for him.

Before he knew it, he was picking it up, his eyes reading the headline before he froze, his eyes going wide with shock and the blood leaving his face.

Wanted: Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma.

Sitting below the words were the mugshots of two men, one with dark hair and the other wearing glasses, the words underneath getting his attention.

Wanted for robbery, stealing a car, and suspicion of murder. If you see the two men, please call your local Sheriff’s office immediately.

So that was what he did.

Knowing that time was of the essence, he just walked into the back room, before he took the device off the receiver, and dialed the number, the line ringing as he waited for someone to pick up

Pick up the phone.

Oh please pick up the phone.

“Hillsborough County Sheriff’s office. What can I help you with today?”

He just breathed out a sigh of relief before he spoke, telling the woman on the other line everything that he knew, including the fact that Edward Nygma bought something at his establishment.

Yes.

That Ed Nygma.

And she didn’t interrupt him, just let him finish his sentence, before she spoke, her tone of voice calm with every word that she said.

“I understand the urgency, sir. I’ll have two officers dispatched right away.”

Two minutes later, his store was crawling with cops, the man telling the group of officers everything that he knew, including what the man looked like and what he was wearing.

He even told them about the blood stain that was left behind.

“And tell me, where does that road lead?”

It was the younger of the two who spoke, a man with blonde hair and blue eyes, a Deputy by the looks of it, a pained smile on his face and his eyes tired as he looked at him.

“To state lines.”

And those words were true.

That country road led directly to the Georgia border, both men long gone at this point, the car mostly likely abandoned on the side of the road, and a new one in its place.

But they wouldn’t stop searching.

No.

In fact, that group of lawmen just became even more determined to catch Oswald and Edward, those men not stopping until the two men were gone for good.

And that was a promise they were going to keep.

Chapter Text

The Countryside of Georgia, 1933.

Georgia State Penitentiary was a tiny place.

It was a small building that was built out of red bricks, a place that was located in the middle of nowhere, large green fields and trees surrounding it for miles.

And it was where Butch Gilzean was being held.

He was a bulky and tall man, a man who was serving a two years sentence for burglary, murderer and evading police, both him and his friend arrested, and charged for their crimes.

Oswald may have been able to escape, but he wasn’t so lucky, the uniform baggy on him, and the man’s days consisting of nothing but plowing fields and crappy meals.

Oh.

And visits from his wife, of course.

Tabitha wouldn’t visit often, but, when she did, she would always encourage him to serve his sentence, so that, once he got released, they could start their lives anew.

He wanted to leave his life of crime behind him.

For Tabby.

Or at least that was the plan at any rate.

Because it happened in October.

He was escorted in chains when it happened, every prisoner in a single file line as they were led to the fields like always.

Except this time something was different.

Why?

Because there was an extra prisoner.

“Hello Butch.”

The man who appeared next to him was none other than Oswald himself, a cap covering his black hair and the uniform drowning his figure, the man leaning on a stick for support.

What the hell?

“Oswald? What are you doing here?”

The two men continued whispering to each other, his eyes glancing towards the guards with every word that he said, the group of men having their backs to them.

Okay.

That was good at least.

“What does it look like, Butch? I’m here to bust you out.”

Great.

Just great.

They first met a year ago.

In fact, Oz used to be his call mate- well, until he escaped that was, an escape attempt that was successful.

And he hasn’t seen the other man since.

Until now.

“Where the hell did you get that uniform?”

Yeah.

Good question.

The man’s smile didn’t falter at the question, his eyes bright as he continued pretending to be a prisoner, plowing the fields like the other man around them.

And no one suspected a thing.

“I had help.”

Those words were true.

He did.

His partner in crime was waiting for him in the car, which was parked only a couple of miles away from the building, a model T that was hidden by the forest of trees.

And he knew that Butch and Edward would get along great.

That was a guarantee.

“But that doesn’t matter, Butch. Are you coming with us or not?”

Us?

Who’s us?

He’s heard rumors that Oswald had a partner in crime, but he always brushed them aside, knowing that his old friend worked better alone.

But it was true.

Apparently.

The two men continued whispering to each other, unaware that one of the guards used that time to take the roll call, expecting to count only ten prisoners.

But no.

There were eleven prisoners in that field.

And that wasn’t right.

No.

Not at all.

“There’s an extra prisoner, sir.”

And yes.

Indeed there were.

The man on the horse just reached for his gun, only to pause at the sound of a gun cocking, before a voice spoke, one that belonged to a wanted fugitive with green eyes.

And who was he?

Well, it was none other than Oswald Cobblepot.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

They knew who he was, of course, the man a former inmate there before he escaped, the attempt successful, and the man looking for him ever since.

They never stopped looking, after all.

But apparently he came back on his own terms, the man standing next to Butch Gilzean, a gun in his hand as he contours holding it at the group of men.

The ranger and the prison guards.

And his hand never shook.

No.

Not even once.

“What are you gonna do, Cobblepot? Shoot us?”

Yes.

That was exactly what he was going to do.

It was the fugitive who shot first, his action causing a shootout to break out after that, the noise never fading, even as the two men ran through the trees, towards their destination.

“Quick! Through here.”

Well, it was more like limping in Oswald’s case, the bullets bouncing off the bark of the trees as the two men continued running, the taller man focusing on escaping, while the shorter man continued shooting over his shoulder.

And it didn’t take long for a model T to appear in the clearing in front of them.

It was a tall man who was sitting behind the wheel, one with brown hair and glasses, a man who was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel when the sounds of gunshots got his attention.

A smile appeared on his face as he turned his head, his eyes watching as his boyfriend continued shooting at the group of lawmen that were behind him.

But he wasn’t alone.

No.

So his plan was a success then.

He just started the engine, the shootout continuing as the two men got inside the vehicle, one in the front and the other in the back.

“Don’t think about escaping us, Cobblepot.”

But he did.

They had no choice but to watch as the car sped away, the sound of gunshots fading the farther away the model T got, the silence a calm one as the two men changed.

Well, until Butch spoke, that was.

“I see the rumors are true.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the tall and rail thin man who was sitting in the driver's seat, a man who was way too calm for his sake.

What was he?

A policeman in disguise?

Oswald didn’t seem phased though, just kept his tone of voice calm when he spoke, his eyes glancing between the two men, and an amused smile appearing on his face.

“Butch, Edward Nygma. Eddie, Butch Gilzean.”

Ah.

So this was the old friend that his boyfriend wanted to break out of jail.

That explained the urgency.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His eyes may have stayed on the road, but the smile faded off his face once it became clear that the other man wouldn’t say anything, just crossed his arm, and his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“He’s a little too plain for you, isn’t he Ozzie.”

That’s it.

They’re moving on.

“Where are we taking you, Butch?”

He just gave the two men the address, the drive continuing, before they pulled up to a one story farmhouse, a windmill in the field behind them along with a clutter of chickens.

Seriously?

This was his friend's new life?

His precious Eddie was taking the key out of the ignition when the door opened, and a familiar woman appeared before them, her dark eyes looking back and forth between all three of them.

“Butch?”

That was Tabitha Galavan.

His best friend's wife.

There was a frown on her face when she spoke, and her face may have been void of all emotion, but that didn’t stop the confusion from making an appearance in her brown colored eyes.

Because that was the thing.

Her husband only had a year left of his sentence.

So he was supposed to be at the Georgia State Penitentiary.

Not here in front of her.

But he wasn’t alone.

No.

Of course he wasn’t.

“Oswald, you remember Tabitha, my wife.”

Yes.

He did.

“Mrs Galavan.”

His tone of voice was calm when he spoke, the man nodding his head in her direction, aware that she just frowned at him, not even stopping once Butch approached her.

No.

And Tabitha has always hated him, especially now that he broke her husband out of jail, every lawman out looking for them.

Which brings us to why he did this in the first place.

“Well, Butch? Are you coming with us?”

And that was the question, wasn’t it?

He knew that they could use someone with his friend’s expertise on their team, but his words just caused the woman to sneer at him, her tone of voice harsh when she spoke again.

“No. Absolutely not, Oswald. You are not dragging my husband into your mess. Not again.”

He just smirked at her, but her words caused his lover to frown deeply, his brown eyes glancing between him and the woman in confusion.

“Oz? What does she mean by that?”

But no one answered him.

His boyfriend just continued looking at Tabby, who looked away from him, and towards the other man instead, her lips twisting upwards once again.

“Who are you? His chauffeur?”

Ouch.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to get cut off by his boyfriend's old friend, who just placed his hand onto his wife’s arm, his tone of voice calm when he spoke again.

“Tabby, please. I have to do this.”

And those words were true.

He did.

Oswald Cobblepot was a good friend, and the life of a church going, God loving husband wasn’t for him.

No.

He wasn’t meant to live on a farm with his father in law.

He wanted to live his life of excitement and adventure, and the only way he’d get that was if he went with Oz and his boy toy.

And all four of them knew that.

His words just caused his wife to sigh, before she spoke again, her tone of voice even softer this time, and her brown eyes staring at the group's leader, never looking away from him.

“Let me come too.”

And he knew why she was saying that.

She didn’t want to stay at home while her husband got himself killed.

No.

She wanted to come with them to make sure that Butch stayed out of trouble with the law.

But she’d be a liability.

Which is why he opened his mouth to say no, only to close it once his green eyes made contact with Ed’s brown ones, the man shaking his head as he placed his hand onto his arm, his touch gentle and his tone of voice calm with every word that he said.

“Let her come, Oz. Four is better than one.”

And yes.

It was.

Ed made a good point like always, which is why he relented, grabbing his lover's hand when he spoke again, addressing the woman this time.

“Fine. But don’t touch anything.”

It was set in stone after that.

The group of four were long gone by the time the cops got there, asking Mister Galavan if he’s seen either his daughter or his son in law.

Why?

Because Butch Gilzean escaped jail with the help of Oswald Cobblepot, the group of lawmen knowing that they needed to cover every track that they could.

But the man’s been at the church all day, making it clear to police that he didn’t see either of them.

Not since that morning, at least.

That didn’t stop a neighbor from identifying them.

According to that neighbor, both Butch and Tabitha drove off with two men, one with brown hair and glasses, and the other short with black hair and green eyes.

Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma.

Well the police searched for the group of four, the two men continued robbing banks, and grocery stores, this time having the help of Butch, a expert marksman.

And indeed he was.

The two men just robbed the banks, while Ed and Tabby were the lookouts, one sitting in the driver's seat and the other in the back as they kept their eyes on the cops.

By the time sirens would appear in the distance, the group of four would be long gone, and the car abandoned, a new one in its place.

The search continued.

If only they knew that their story would end in tragedy.