***For the dozens of you on Tumblr as well as a couple of guests on this site who requested a 'heartbroken'/'regretful' Ed***

Ed closed the mansion door behind him and tried to hang his rain soaked coat on its usual hook. He missed. He didn't notice and stepped on it as he walked into the house proper.
His footsteps were loud on the hard surface of the floor and he quickly moved so he was treading on the carpet.
He went to the small bathroom beside the staircase and locked himself inside.
Turning on the taps, he regarded himself in the mirror as he pulled the light cord. He sighed heavily as he saw how pale he looked. He had been forced to pull over twice on the way back to the mansion from the docks. His mouth still felt awful from the vomiting.
He turned the cold water tap and filled the sink basin as he took off his glasses. He felt the material of his shirt and waistcoat sticking to him, sweat staining his armpits and running down his neck. Once the basin was full, he splashed cold water on his face, gasping at the shock and shivering at the temperature. He scooped some into his mouth, sloshed it around his mouth and gargled. He spat it out into the basin and braced himself on the sink, both hands gripping the basin. He took deep, calming breaths, closing his eyes in a bid to clear his head.
He opened them and saw Oswald's submerged face looking up at him from the basin.
Ed squeezed his eyes shut again and opened them as much as they could open.
Oswald vanished, the memory dispelled by Ed's focus.
He pulled the plug chain and the basin drained.

He left the bathroom and headed for the den, keen to warm himself beside the fire.
As he added an extra log to the hearth, he heard clicking footsteps. He turned and saw Olga on her way out, pulling on her plastic hood to protect her hair from the rain.

'Get me a drink', he barked.

Olga shrugged, her handbag slipping slightly off her shoulder as she eyed Ed's tousled appearance distastefully.

'I only work half day today', she said.

Ed was gratified to see her eyes widen at the expression on his face.

'I said: get me a drink', Ed hissed.

Olga's eyes flicked to the drinks cabinet but when he saw her eyes harden, Ed knew he was fated to be disappointed.

'Mr Penguin is my employer not you', Olga sniffed, 'He's not here. You want drink? Bottle is right there on table'.

Ed was about to retort but was distracted by Olga's pointing finger. Sure enough there was a bottle of champagne on the coffee table. Tied with a pink bow.
Ed ignored Olga's stroppy exit, instead picking up the bottle for a closer look.
Pink wasn't one of Oswald's colours.
Ed shook his head as he identified the buyer.

Barbara.
A token of appreciation no doubt.
And useful for getting a rotten taste out of your mouth.

He went to the drinks cabinet and tutted at the lack of clean glasses. Oswald's doing. He had been hitting the bottle pretty heavily the last few days. Reaching to the back, Ed found one lonely tumbler and prepared to pop the bottle.

Then again….it was rather pointless wasn't it?

To celebrate victory alone.
The circumstances made it borderline obscene. It wasn't right to toast Isabella's memory like this. The whole thing had been an ugly business. Not one Ed had enjoyed.
He popped open the bottle but no longer had any desire to indulge.
Drinking over the corpses of your enemies was barbaric.
He poured the champagne into a nearby neglected looking potted plant reflecting on how the champagne was probably poisoned anyway.

'WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ENJOY THINGS?' came a voice from behind Ed.

He knew where his doppelganger was without turning around. It was lounging in the sofa beside the fire, frustrated (as usual) with Ed's perceived 'shortcomings'. In this case unwillingness to indulge in vulgar grandstanding in an empty room.

'SO PENGUIN DIDN'T CONFORM EXACTLY TO THE BEHAVIOURAL PARAMETERS WE ANTICIPATED', the doppelganger shrugged, 'SELFISH TO THE END I GUESS'.

Ed didn't look at him, feigning interest in the champagne label.

'He wasn't though was he?' he said, 'He was willing to die for-'

His doppelganger gave a disgusted groan.

'HE PROBABLY FIGURED OUT OUR PLAN AND WAS JUST TRYING TO SAVE HIS OWN NECK BY LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH. AS USUAL. OR HE WAS DOING IT OUT OF SPITE; THROWING A SPANNER IN THE WORKS BY PRETENDING TO HAVE SOME BIG DRAMATIC REALIZATION JUST TO PROVE US WRONG!'

'He didn't figure anything else out'.

'MORE FOOL HIM. BOO HOO. ANYWHOO, WHO CARES?! WE AVENGED ISABELLA! THE PLAN WORKED PERFECTLY! GIVE OR TAKE THE CONSOLATION PRIZE'.

'And here we are', Ed said.

'Alone, unhappy and exhausted', he thought.

His doppelganger, ignorant or (more likely) ignoring Ed's fatigue, continued crowing.

'EXACTLY! FINALLY FREE TO DO WHATEVER WE WANT! TO BE WHOEVER WE WANT! NOW WE'RE OUT FROM UNDER HIS UMBRELLA, IT'S TIME TO SPREAD OUR OWN WINGS!'

'Are you finished? Funny how you always insist on telling me things I already know'.

'TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW THEN: WHY DID YOU CHANGE THE PLAN?'

Ed turned at the threatening tone of his doppelganger's voice. The fact it was imaginary and a reflection of his own voice somehow made it no less menacing. Was that tone the one he had used on Oswald mere hours ago?

'WE AGREED TO SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD' his doppelganger concluded.

'I thought the stomach would be more painful'.

'BUT NOT INSTANT'.

'Since when have we been concerned with instant gratification?'

His doppelganger would not be distracted by Ed's deflection.

'THE PLAN WAS TO SHOOT HIM IN THE HEAD THEN TIE HIS BODY TO THE TRAIN TRACKS'.

'Too exposed and the Gotham train schedule can be erratic', Ed explained, 'Exposure to the water will accelerate blood loss, hypothermia and will ensure evidence is not found. He'll feel pain, cold, numb then nothing at all. Just like me'.

His jaw tightened as he heard his doppelganger give a round of mocking applause.

'WELL REASONED. POETIC AND PRACTICAL. BUT, UM, I THINK YOU ARE FORGETTING ONE LITTLE, TINY, MINISCULE, INSIGNIFICANT-'

'Are you just going to list synonyms at me or-' Ed began but flinched as his doppelganger suddenly materialised right in front of him.

'MY POINT IS THAT PENGUINS SWIM! AND THIS PARTICULAR PENGUIN SEEMS TO GET STRONGER EVERY TIME HE ALMOST DIES!'

Ed pushed past him and went to the fireplace. He looked into the hearth, trying to will the heat from the flames into his shaking hands as they gripped the champagne bottle.

'YOU HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN', his doppelganger said, dawning realization obvious, 'IT'S WHAT YOU'RE HOPING FOR ISN'T IT? FOR HIS BLOATED CORPSE TO CLIMB OUT OF THAT RIVER AND TO COME CRAWLING BACK HERE BEGGING FOR ANOTHER CHANCE! AND YOU'D GIVE IT TO HIM LIKE THE WORM YOU ARE! EVEN AFTER EVERYTHING HE DID, YOU STILL CARE!'

'If I cared would I have shot him?' Ed asked lightly, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

'YOU CARED ABOUT KRISTEN. SHE STILL ENDED UP DEAD'.

'This time wasn't an accident', Ed replied, fingers subconsciously wrapping tighter around the bottle, 'And I didn't…feel…like I did with Kristen'.

'YOU LOOKED PREEEETTY SHOCKED WHEN YOU PULLED THAT TRIGGER'.

Ed didn't reply.
If he didn't say anything, his illusory twin would go away. The whole reason he continued to appear is because Ed indulged him. Because he allowed this hallucinogenic farce to continue.

'SLASH THE PAINTING'.

Ed dropped the bottle. It rolled away from him as he looked at the painting still sitting on the easel in the corner. He and Oswald smiled from within the canvas, immortalised.
He was shocked to feel a new weight in his hand and realised he was holding his knife. When had he taken it from his pocket?!

'Why?' Ed asked, genuinely confused at the unexpected order and unable to ignore the venomous words dripping into his ears.

'YOU ALREADY KILLED HIM ONCE. NOW YOU'RE GOING TO BALK AT GUTTING A PICTURE OF HIM?'

'It's an inanimate object!' Ed snapped, 'Destroying it doesn't prove anything!'

He threw the knife away. It slid to a halt beside the fire, the exposed blade flickering yellow as it reflected the flames.

Ed stared down his double who met his bared teeth with a sadistic grin.

'YOU KNOW OSWALD WAS WRONG ABOUT YOU?' he asked tauntingly, 'YOU WEREN'T A NERVOUS JITTERY LITTLE NOTHING: YOU'RE STILL A NERVOUS JITTERY LITTLE NOTHING WHO NEEDS A PROJECTION OF IMPULSE TO TEACH HIM HOW TO BE A REAL MAN! WE WOULD'VE BEEN BETTER OFF LEAVING HIM TO DIE IN THOSE WOODS OR IF HE'D LEFT YOU TO ROT IN THE LOONY BIN WHERE YOU BELONG! BECAUSE YOU'RE AN IDIOT EDDIE: WHY ELSE WOULD YOU CARE MORE ABOUT SOME SNIVELLING LITTLE FAGGOT THAN-'

The gunshot rang out like a thunderclap.

Ed watched coldly as his doppelganger spasmed and fell, a fresh bullet wound in his head. His eyes rolled back as he faded, his incorporeal form dissolving like mist in sunlight. Behind where he had been standing, a bullet sat in its new resting place in the cracked plaster of the wall.

'How's that for a projection of impulse?' Ed said with the barest hint of satisfaction as he lowered the gun.

'I thought he'd never leave', a quiet voice commented approvingly.

Ed knew the voice instantly but turned around slowly anyway.
Oswald was sitting on the sofa beside the fire, water dripping from his sodden clothes. His eyes were milky and his skin was the colour of curdle milk, his hands, resting on his lap dripped blood from where they had touched the raw, gaping wound in his stomach.

'Glad to see you know you don't need him anymore', Oswald continued.

'For evolution to happen, certain atavistic traits need to be discarded', Ed said then swiftly redirected the gun.

He pulled the trigger and the bullet passed through Oswald. Feathers flew as it impacted one of the throw pillows Oswald's back was supposedly lying against.

'Like imaginary friends', Ed concluded, putting the gun away, satisfied by Oswald's non-corporeal state.

'An imaginary friend is better than none right?' Oswald asked, then waggled his fingers, 'Unless I'm a ghost?'

'Ghosts aren't real', Ed said dismissively, examining his mind's representation of Oswald, impressed despite himself, 'Remember?'

It was amazing how much attention his brain paid to detail when it came to his hallucinations. There was even a growing wet patch on the sofa and carpet where the water from Oswald's clothes made contact.

Even the way Oswald rolled his eyes was spot on.

'Ed, you see so many ghosts Kristen and I could form a support group'.

Ed knelt down and touched the puddle with one fingertip. The carpet was bone dry. Because of course it was. Ed felt idiotic for checking.

'Like her', he said, straightening, 'you are just another figment of my masochistic brain. Here to try and guilt trip me no doubt'.

'Are you really sure about that?' Oswald asked, before leaning back, deliberately exposing his raw glistening wound, 'You want to have a rummage around to make sure?'

Ed clicked his tongue dismissively, trying to ignore the blood and offal he thought he had experienced when Oswald had shown his stomach wound. His stomach was roiling again.

He headed for the stairs.

So many hallucinations in one night definitely meant he was tired. He needed to recharge.
As he passed the top landing, he ignored Oswald straddling the banister to his right like a child preparing to slide down.

'If it makes you feel better, think of me as more of a reminder', Oswald offered as he passed.

'Of all the pain you caused?' Ed laughed bitterly, 'Oh, don't you worry! I'll be carrying that for a while'.

He reached out as if to push Oswald but he blinked and Oswald vanished. His outstretched fingers formed into a fist. It had been just like that at the docks. The lightest push and Oswald had vanished.

'But why bother carrying it if you've got your revenge?' Oswald's voice echoed from above him, 'I'm not here to remind you of that'.

'Then why?!' Ed demanded, his patience fraying.

He nearly jumped when Oswald suddenly walked out of a room ahead of him. Oswald smirked at Ed's discomfort even as Ed stalked past him.

'You tell me', Oswald said, following, 'I'm part of you don't forget'.

'Can't have one without the other', Ed quoted, 'That's what you said to me'.

'Don't have much choice now do you?' Oswald replied, following Ed, 'So, why am I here?'

Ed entered his bedroom and looked out of the window. It was still raining. Dull grey clouds over a lifeless looking landscape stared back through the glass.
He sensed Oswald standing beside him.
Ed saw he wasn't reflected in the window glass and as he placed a hand on the cold surface, no wet outline of his fingers or palm appeared.

'You're a reminder that you…'

Ed cleared his throat, mentally reminding himself it wasn't really Oswald beside him. It bothered him that he felt the need to do so.

'That he loved me', Ed finished quietly.

Oswald gave a solemn nod in agreement.

'Even after everything you did', Oswald mused, 'And you loved me but you couldn't admit it. Your pride wouldn't let you. Even though you always wanted to. I'm a reminder that you failed Edward Nygma. A reminder that Oswald Cobblepot, like love, is the one riddle you will never solve'.

Oswald's calm, matter of fact tone only riled Ed up.

'You used to say that once you know what a man loves you know what can kill him', he said, glaring at Oswald, 'How did it feel? Being so right?'

Oswald was unperturbed by Ed's spiteful jab. He didn't even look at him.

'The same way you must feel for being so wrong', he said, sadness creeping into his words, 'You said love was a weakness. But look what it did to us. What it's doing to you right now'.

Ed rolled his eyes and pulled his waistcoat off, unceremoniously throwing it onto the bed.

'Listen, it's kind of you to be so concerned', he said sarcastically, 'coming all the way from the darkest corners of my psyche and all-'

'But I'm 'kind of freaking you out?'' Oswald interrupted, turning to face him, sardonic smile on his clammy face, 'Deja vu. Except looks like this time you're throwing me out of my own house'.

Ed advanced on Oswald and jabbed a finger at his beak like nose.

'What I did today was right!' he hissed, 'You deserved everything you got!'

He ignored Oswald's eyes darting around the room as Ed's raised voice echoed around the empty house.

'I shot you, I pushed you into that water and I didn't bat an eye! I threw your father into a dumpster and laughed about it! I worked with your enemies to bring you down! I destroyed you! I got everything I wanted!'

He inhaled deeply, teeth gritted as the air hissed past them.

'Then why are you crying?' Oswald asked simply.

Ed reached up with a shaking hand but he already knew Oswald was telling the truth. He could feel the falling tears chilling on his cheeks. He threw his glasses onto the bed beside his discarded waistcoat and groaning, covered his face with both hands. He didn't want to look at Oswald: he was too distracted by the answers to his question beating at the inside of his skull.

Because you didn't expect it. Right until the end you didn't think I'd do it. You weren't even angry! You didn't fight for your life! You didn't try to grab the gun! You just stood there and-and the look on your face when I pulled the trigger...

'It's like that song you used for my ringtone', Oswald said before starting to sing forlornly, 'You had your way. Now you must pay. I'm glad you're sorry. Hope you're sorry-'

Ed threw a punch at Oswald and swore as his fist made contact with the cast iron lattice on the window. He glared at Oswald, teeth bared and dishevelled, eyes red and glistening.

'I'm. Not. Sorry', he growled.

Oswald watched Ed impassively as he straightened, determinedly lowering his damaged, still clenched fist to his side. He looked down at Oswald, fixing his rational, expressionless mask securely back into place.

'Then let's hope you really did kill me', Oswald breathed.

Ed watched him rise onto his tiptoes (an action the real Oswald had always found difficult because of his knee) but did not step back even as Oswald's face neared his own.
He felt no breath as Oswald kissed him on the lips or any mortal material from the gloved hand stroking his cheek. He allowed it. What was the harm? It wasn't real anyway.
He didn't realise he had closed his eyes until he heard Oswald speak. He opened his eyes to find Oswald's pale eyes staring deep into his own.

'Because you know if you didn't, you soon will be', Oswald finished, withdrawing his hand.

Ed blinked hard once to dispel fresh moisture from his eyes and when he opened them, Oswald was gone. Retreating back into the dark of his psyche.

'See you later Ed', Oswald's voice whispered in his ear.

Ed looked around his darkened bedroom, searching for any other intrusive phantoms come to haunt him but none materialised.

He was alone.

'I'll be waiting', he promised, feeling blood from his wounded knuckles drip between his closed, cold fingers.