Categories > Comics > Batman > To Ponder is to Plan
To Ponder is to Plan
0 reviewsBarbara texts him the address of where Oswald was spotted. Gun in hand, Ed makes his way to the top of the rooftop. Of all the things he expected to see when he opened the door, Oswald trying to ta...
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“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.”
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays
---
Oswald Cobblepot was a troubled man. This, of course, is putting it lightly. Growing up fatherless, and with his mother being the only source of his happiness and love, Oswald suffered greatly with issues regarding his mental health. It didn’t help that he was bullied constantly as a child. It wasn’t just being laughed at or picked on, it was being shoved, punched, slapped, spat on and being told he was worthless. Long before he had ever met Fish Mooney, Oswald would find himself wandering the Brown Bridge, which he had come to nickname simply “the bridge”. On his lowest days, he would stand on the bridge, staring out at the water, wondering how long it would take for his body to be recovered after he met his end in the waves. Although he would sometimes fantasize, he never attempted to jump. There was always something to hold on to, something he didn’t want to lose.
One day he would be spared by Jim Gordon in a selfless act, one he never fully understood. Despite not knowing who he was back then, someone had decided for him that his life had value. Oswald actually considered himself fortunate to survive and became unbelievably resourceful. Over time, as he grew in power and authority in Gotham, he would still visit the bridge, but without the intent to do himself harm.When Oswald would go to the bridge, he watched the gentle waves below and remind himself that he never would have accomplished all that he had if he’d decided to take his own life all that time ago.
From the time Jim Gordon saved him, to the mere moments before his mother died, Oswald viewed his life as a blessing. The death of his mother broke something within him. A nerve was hit that would ignite an anger he’d never experienced before. Oswald felt that her death was entirely preventable and that his actions were responsible for it. Helping Jim kill Galavan didn’t make anything better. Arkham obviously did nothing either. If anything, it made him feel more out of control. Meeting his father helped him for a brief time, but when he was murdered, Oswald was at one of his lowest points. He acted out of anger and resentment, as he did after the death of his mother, but he was beginning to lose his sense of self. The only two people he had ever loved at that point were murdered and he carried guilt about both of their deaths everyday. In his mind, he should have done more. He should have been smarter. He should have saved them.
Then there was Ed. The cunning, charming, endearing and handsome Edward Nygma. The man he fell in love with. The man he hurt in the most cruel way. Oswald’s parents both loved him dearly, but he was always worried about disappointing them. He never had to worry about disappointing Ed. Oswald wanted to impress him because Ed treated him like he was perfectly capable of handling any situation thrown his way. Having Isabella killed was Oswald’s desperate attempt at salvaging what remained of his heart and capacity for love. He wanted to keep the only man who knew almost all of his flaws but believed in him regardless to be all for himself. Driving Ed away was never his intention, but he also never intended for Ed to find out. Oswald knows now that even if it hurt, he should have let Ed be with Isabella. He should have made Ed’s happiness more of a priority. His love for Ed should have selfless. But that just goes to show that he’s incapable of protecting anyone he loves.
His head hurts.
---
Today was the day Edward Nygma planned to kill Oswald Cobblepot.
“Where the hell is he?” He muttered angrily to himself. Ed was getting sick of looking for Oswald. He felt like he’d searched all of Gotham, coming up completely empty. It was as if Oswald had vanished out of thin air. He wasn’t in any of his usual spots and Ed was beyond frustrated.
His phone rang. Barbara. “What?” He snapped into the phone.
“Oh, Eddie, I do love your kind greetings.”
When Ed didn’t respond out of annoyance, Barbara continued after a sigh. “I found him. He’s on some rooftop. My guess is he knows you’re after him and he thinks he can hide in plain sight or something. I’ll text you the address of the building.” Finally. A rooftop? Really?
Coward, Ed thought to himself. That’s all Oswald ever had been. A complete and utter coward. He was wrong for ever believing in him. The building wasn’t too far from where he was, but it was so tall that it was impossible to see most of the rooftop. Ed walked briskly.
---
Oswald didn’t go to the bridge. Because dying there would have meaning. It would make sense for him to die at the place he’d been eyeing for so long. But in his manic state, nothing has meaning. Nothing makes sense. His death wouldn’t matter and that stupid bridge wouldn’t win. It’s ironic that he thinks this way - that jumping off the ledge would have no meaning. Instead of overdosing or hanging himself, he preferred for as many bones in his body to break as were possible. He opted for his blood to be spilled on the concrete pavement instead of across a bathroom wall. He chose to die an ugly death because he didn’t know how to justify giving himself a beautiful one. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve anything.
His entire body shook violently. Oswald’s fists were clenched and his arms moved awkwardly and with uncertainty. Tears wouldn’t stop running down his face, blurring his vision and making his overall perception even more disoriented. His jaw was also clenched, so tightly that his teeth hurt. He wanted to scream, but he the only sound he could manage was whimpers. He paced in a small circle, his hands now hitting his head. He was close to the ledge, and he would go back and forth between looking at it to looking at the ground below him. He felt like he was falling and floating all at once. His legs shook so much that he could no longer hold himself up and he tumbled to the ground of the rooftop, curling in fetal position. Everything was impossibly loud. Every conversation from the world below the building, music that played far off in the distance, every bird that flew nearby and his own staggered and uncontrolled breathing that is best described as shallow gasps for air.
---
“You son of a bitch,” Ed said opening the door that led to the rooftop, gun in hand. His eyes fell on the crumpled body of Oswald, which shook so frantically that what he was seeing didn’t fully register in his brain immediately.
“Oswald?” He dropped his gun and moved without thinking. He was by Oswald’s side in an instant. He’d never moved so quickly.
“Oswald?” He repeated, with an added sense of urgency. Ed’s hand cupped Oswald’s cheek so he could look at him in the eyes. It’s said that people look through you when something’s not right. But that didn’t happen. Ed was being looked at, but not by Oswald. This man was a hollow version of Oswald, terrified and lost.
“Oswald? Please just try and breathe, okay?” Suddenly, Oswald moved back and jolted upwards, getting so close to the edge that he almost fell. Oswald let out a small sob when he didn’t. Ed grabbed him by the waist and jerked him to the ground around. He suddenly understood that this was more than a panic attack or a breakdown. Of all the things he expected to see when he opened the door, Oswald trying to take his own life was not one of them.
“Oswald? Listen to me. I’m right here. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself,” Edward said, trying to make his voice sound calming, but his anxiety was clear. Oswald tried to hit him and push him away, but Ed just held him.
“Oswald.” Oswald wouldn’t look at him.
“Oz.” Oswald was struggling to breathe, but he still tried to get out of Ed’s grip, squirming and fighting. Ed pulled him so close that he could feel Oswald’s pounding heartbeat. Oswald screamed a weak, hoarse scream with what little air was in his lungs.
“Shh, I’m here. I’m here. You’re going to be okay, I promise you. Just breathe. I’m here.” Ed’s eyes were filled with tears and he wasn’t even aware of it.
Oswald began to breathe more normally and Ed’s grip on his remained firm as they half-laid half-sat on the ground of the rooftop. When Ed heard Oswald trying to say something, he pulled back enough to watch his lips move, but made sure he wouldn’t get far if he tried to abruptly move up again.
“I don’t w-want to do this anymore. I k-keep hurting ev...everyone and I-” Ed successfully attempted to silence him with a kiss to his temple. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do that, but he didn’t regret it. Perhaps he knew it was the only thing he could do besides hold Oswald to make him feel grounded. Perhaps he just didn’t want to watch Oswald cry any longer. He kissed him once again, this time on his forehead, and used one hand to wipe Oswald’s tears, keeping the other hand firmly in place around him to keep him still.
“I’m here now. I’m here,” Ed said, returning his hand to where it had been before.
They both cried, Ed holding Oswald in his arms.
“Just kill me,” Oswald wept, his eyelids getting heavy and he grew even more exhausted. “I d-d-deserve it.”
But he didn’t deserve it. Ed may have brought a loaded gun, but whether he consciously realized it or not, he was never going to kill Oswald. Aligning with Barbara, Butch and Tabitha and planning to kill Oswald was really nothing more than a game to him. He didn’t care about Isabella nearly as much as he had cared about Ms. Kringle; he’d only just met her. Ed was just so angry that Oswald would take the life away from someone who brought him happiness, especially after he had trusted and supported him for so long. Ed just wanted to feel in control. He was banking on Oswald to say something unpredictable that would stop him from pulling the trigger. The entire plan was a bluff to keep Oswald from ever trying to hurt him again. He would pick Oswald over Isabella a thousand times over.
“You deserve to live, Oz. I need you here. Gotham needs you. Hell, you’re mayor because Gotham believes that you can make the world a better place. You have value. And purpose. You’re one of the bravest and most resilient men I’ve ever had the honor of knowing. You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”
It was unclear how much Oswald had heard, because Ed realized soon after noticing that his breathing had become more consistent and slowed that Oswald had passed out in his arms.
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays
---
Oswald Cobblepot was a troubled man. This, of course, is putting it lightly. Growing up fatherless, and with his mother being the only source of his happiness and love, Oswald suffered greatly with issues regarding his mental health. It didn’t help that he was bullied constantly as a child. It wasn’t just being laughed at or picked on, it was being shoved, punched, slapped, spat on and being told he was worthless. Long before he had ever met Fish Mooney, Oswald would find himself wandering the Brown Bridge, which he had come to nickname simply “the bridge”. On his lowest days, he would stand on the bridge, staring out at the water, wondering how long it would take for his body to be recovered after he met his end in the waves. Although he would sometimes fantasize, he never attempted to jump. There was always something to hold on to, something he didn’t want to lose.
One day he would be spared by Jim Gordon in a selfless act, one he never fully understood. Despite not knowing who he was back then, someone had decided for him that his life had value. Oswald actually considered himself fortunate to survive and became unbelievably resourceful. Over time, as he grew in power and authority in Gotham, he would still visit the bridge, but without the intent to do himself harm.When Oswald would go to the bridge, he watched the gentle waves below and remind himself that he never would have accomplished all that he had if he’d decided to take his own life all that time ago.
From the time Jim Gordon saved him, to the mere moments before his mother died, Oswald viewed his life as a blessing. The death of his mother broke something within him. A nerve was hit that would ignite an anger he’d never experienced before. Oswald felt that her death was entirely preventable and that his actions were responsible for it. Helping Jim kill Galavan didn’t make anything better. Arkham obviously did nothing either. If anything, it made him feel more out of control. Meeting his father helped him for a brief time, but when he was murdered, Oswald was at one of his lowest points. He acted out of anger and resentment, as he did after the death of his mother, but he was beginning to lose his sense of self. The only two people he had ever loved at that point were murdered and he carried guilt about both of their deaths everyday. In his mind, he should have done more. He should have been smarter. He should have saved them.
Then there was Ed. The cunning, charming, endearing and handsome Edward Nygma. The man he fell in love with. The man he hurt in the most cruel way. Oswald’s parents both loved him dearly, but he was always worried about disappointing them. He never had to worry about disappointing Ed. Oswald wanted to impress him because Ed treated him like he was perfectly capable of handling any situation thrown his way. Having Isabella killed was Oswald’s desperate attempt at salvaging what remained of his heart and capacity for love. He wanted to keep the only man who knew almost all of his flaws but believed in him regardless to be all for himself. Driving Ed away was never his intention, but he also never intended for Ed to find out. Oswald knows now that even if it hurt, he should have let Ed be with Isabella. He should have made Ed’s happiness more of a priority. His love for Ed should have selfless. But that just goes to show that he’s incapable of protecting anyone he loves.
His head hurts.
---
Today was the day Edward Nygma planned to kill Oswald Cobblepot.
“Where the hell is he?” He muttered angrily to himself. Ed was getting sick of looking for Oswald. He felt like he’d searched all of Gotham, coming up completely empty. It was as if Oswald had vanished out of thin air. He wasn’t in any of his usual spots and Ed was beyond frustrated.
His phone rang. Barbara. “What?” He snapped into the phone.
“Oh, Eddie, I do love your kind greetings.”
When Ed didn’t respond out of annoyance, Barbara continued after a sigh. “I found him. He’s on some rooftop. My guess is he knows you’re after him and he thinks he can hide in plain sight or something. I’ll text you the address of the building.” Finally. A rooftop? Really?
Coward, Ed thought to himself. That’s all Oswald ever had been. A complete and utter coward. He was wrong for ever believing in him. The building wasn’t too far from where he was, but it was so tall that it was impossible to see most of the rooftop. Ed walked briskly.
---
Oswald didn’t go to the bridge. Because dying there would have meaning. It would make sense for him to die at the place he’d been eyeing for so long. But in his manic state, nothing has meaning. Nothing makes sense. His death wouldn’t matter and that stupid bridge wouldn’t win. It’s ironic that he thinks this way - that jumping off the ledge would have no meaning. Instead of overdosing or hanging himself, he preferred for as many bones in his body to break as were possible. He opted for his blood to be spilled on the concrete pavement instead of across a bathroom wall. He chose to die an ugly death because he didn’t know how to justify giving himself a beautiful one. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve anything.
His entire body shook violently. Oswald’s fists were clenched and his arms moved awkwardly and with uncertainty. Tears wouldn’t stop running down his face, blurring his vision and making his overall perception even more disoriented. His jaw was also clenched, so tightly that his teeth hurt. He wanted to scream, but he the only sound he could manage was whimpers. He paced in a small circle, his hands now hitting his head. He was close to the ledge, and he would go back and forth between looking at it to looking at the ground below him. He felt like he was falling and floating all at once. His legs shook so much that he could no longer hold himself up and he tumbled to the ground of the rooftop, curling in fetal position. Everything was impossibly loud. Every conversation from the world below the building, music that played far off in the distance, every bird that flew nearby and his own staggered and uncontrolled breathing that is best described as shallow gasps for air.
---
“You son of a bitch,” Ed said opening the door that led to the rooftop, gun in hand. His eyes fell on the crumpled body of Oswald, which shook so frantically that what he was seeing didn’t fully register in his brain immediately.
“Oswald?” He dropped his gun and moved without thinking. He was by Oswald’s side in an instant. He’d never moved so quickly.
“Oswald?” He repeated, with an added sense of urgency. Ed’s hand cupped Oswald’s cheek so he could look at him in the eyes. It’s said that people look through you when something’s not right. But that didn’t happen. Ed was being looked at, but not by Oswald. This man was a hollow version of Oswald, terrified and lost.
“Oswald? Please just try and breathe, okay?” Suddenly, Oswald moved back and jolted upwards, getting so close to the edge that he almost fell. Oswald let out a small sob when he didn’t. Ed grabbed him by the waist and jerked him to the ground around. He suddenly understood that this was more than a panic attack or a breakdown. Of all the things he expected to see when he opened the door, Oswald trying to take his own life was not one of them.
“Oswald? Listen to me. I’m right here. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself,” Edward said, trying to make his voice sound calming, but his anxiety was clear. Oswald tried to hit him and push him away, but Ed just held him.
“Oswald.” Oswald wouldn’t look at him.
“Oz.” Oswald was struggling to breathe, but he still tried to get out of Ed’s grip, squirming and fighting. Ed pulled him so close that he could feel Oswald’s pounding heartbeat. Oswald screamed a weak, hoarse scream with what little air was in his lungs.
“Shh, I’m here. I’m here. You’re going to be okay, I promise you. Just breathe. I’m here.” Ed’s eyes were filled with tears and he wasn’t even aware of it.
Oswald began to breathe more normally and Ed’s grip on his remained firm as they half-laid half-sat on the ground of the rooftop. When Ed heard Oswald trying to say something, he pulled back enough to watch his lips move, but made sure he wouldn’t get far if he tried to abruptly move up again.
“I don’t w-want to do this anymore. I k-keep hurting ev...everyone and I-” Ed successfully attempted to silence him with a kiss to his temple. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do that, but he didn’t regret it. Perhaps he knew it was the only thing he could do besides hold Oswald to make him feel grounded. Perhaps he just didn’t want to watch Oswald cry any longer. He kissed him once again, this time on his forehead, and used one hand to wipe Oswald’s tears, keeping the other hand firmly in place around him to keep him still.
“I’m here now. I’m here,” Ed said, returning his hand to where it had been before.
They both cried, Ed holding Oswald in his arms.
“Just kill me,” Oswald wept, his eyelids getting heavy and he grew even more exhausted. “I d-d-deserve it.”
But he didn’t deserve it. Ed may have brought a loaded gun, but whether he consciously realized it or not, he was never going to kill Oswald. Aligning with Barbara, Butch and Tabitha and planning to kill Oswald was really nothing more than a game to him. He didn’t care about Isabella nearly as much as he had cared about Ms. Kringle; he’d only just met her. Ed was just so angry that Oswald would take the life away from someone who brought him happiness, especially after he had trusted and supported him for so long. Ed just wanted to feel in control. He was banking on Oswald to say something unpredictable that would stop him from pulling the trigger. The entire plan was a bluff to keep Oswald from ever trying to hurt him again. He would pick Oswald over Isabella a thousand times over.
“You deserve to live, Oz. I need you here. Gotham needs you. Hell, you’re mayor because Gotham believes that you can make the world a better place. You have value. And purpose. You’re one of the bravest and most resilient men I’ve ever had the honor of knowing. You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you.”
It was unclear how much Oswald had heard, because Ed realized soon after noticing that his breathing had become more consistent and slowed that Oswald had passed out in his arms.
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