Moving forward.

Chapter 1: Stories of the past.

Who is the man in that photo?

Oswald looked up questioningly from Martin's notepad, wondering what on earth the boy was talking about. Before he could ask however, Martin had scampered over to Penguin's bedside table. It's surface was covered with various knick-knacks, treasured mementos of people long since lost. A man in Penguin's line of work was better off alone with no emotional ties that could be exploited, a man who has nothing he loves is free. Oswald had always been an emotionally driven person though and had developed this magpie like tendency of collecting objects of sentimental value. Besides, there was nothing but memories left for him now and there was little anyone could do to weaponize those.

Placing the two ties he had been trying to choose between aside, Oswald took hold of the small silver frame that Martin handed to him. As he stared at the black and white photo he felt his heart sink. It was a picture he had found in a newspaper from back when he was mayor. He gazed down sadly at the picture and the faces of himself and Edward Nygma smiled vacantly back at him. Oswald sighed with frustration as he placed it back where it belonged, slamming it down with more force than he had intended as he cursed himself for his weakness. Allowing himself to remain so foolishly sentimental about a man that he now wanted dead was absurd. It needed to stop. Yet as he looked down at the picture on last time he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that wished he had gotten more photos with his former friend whilst he had had the chance, now he just had press clippings to look back on. Get a grip! he told himself viciously. That man betrayed you. He should mean nothing to you.

Oswald took a deep breath before turning back to Martin who was waiting patiently for a response. "He was a friend" he replied with forced calm "I gave him everything and I trusted him with my life. Then he betrayed me, shot me and left me for dead." Martin's eyes widened and he patted Penguin's arm sympathetically. "Still, he taught me a valuable lesson" Oswald continued angrily "that friendship is over rated. Here in Gotham everyone is just out for themselves. Give them the chance and they'll stab you in the back before you can blink. Trust and loyalty count for nothing these days. If you want to survive you are better off alone." The boy nodded, a sombre expression on his face. He'd heard Penguin's views on friendship many times but had always wondered exactly who it was that had made him feel that way. Being amazingly perceptive for someone so young Martin had always known that Oswald was capable of opening up his heart to people, after all the criminal kingpin hadn't taken long to warm up to him and he now treated him like his own son. Therefore Oswald's wasn't a person who liked to be alone, he simply felt that he had no other option.

Itching to learn more about his guardians mysterious acquaintance he took out his pen and started to scribble down his next question. Before he could finish however, Penguin had held up a hand to signal for him to stop. "Now that's quite enough questions for one day my lad" he said with a smile that didn't quite drown the sadness in his eyes "Why dwell on the past when we've got the future to think about? After all, Gotham won't run itself will it?" Ruffling the boys hair fondly Oswald turned back to his mirror and, picking up the purple tie decisively, proceeded to finish getting ready for the mornings meeting. When going to meet employees he had learned that it paid to look respectable.

Disappointed that the conversation had been cut short before he'd had a chance to learn more Martin left the room, his curiosity kindled. He was determined that by the end of the week he would have learned the full story behind the man in the photo.

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It wasn't until a few days later that he was able to broach the subject again. It was evening and Penguin was sitting on the sofa, absentmindedly swirling his glass of wine as he stared dreamily into space. He had a sad expression on his face. Putting down his book Martin went over to the sofa and sat next to him. Oswald was suddenly roused from his thoughts by a light tap on his shoulder, bringing his attention to Martin for the first time.