III
"It is madness for a sheep to talk peace with a wolf." –Thomas Fuller
Pulling the dark hood from her jacket up over her head Bird stood in her bedroom looking in the mirror. Ever since meeting with Detectives Allen and Montoya, there had been a storm brewing inside of her.
For the past two days she'd been following Jim Gordon around, which for him mainly meant to the police station for work and then back to his girlfriend's penthouse apartment. There were a few times she'd been filled with so much rage she'd considered killing him.
At her darkest moments, usually fueled with a combination of drugs and alcohol, she'd gone so far as to think up ways of killing his girlfriend, Barbara. Taking someone from him so he'd feel what she was feeling inside. An eye for an eye.
Of course she hadn't acted out of rage –at least not yet. Logically she knew Barbara had nothing to do with what happened to Oswald and if she killed Jim and got caught –the blow-back of killing a GCPD detective would probably land her a life sentence in Blackgate, even if she was a Wayne.
So far, she didn't have a plan for the day besides picking up lunch from somewhere. She couldn't even recall the last time she ate something. For days she'd been avoiding calls from her brother and getting deeper into the darkness of losing three people she loved in such a short period of time.
She felt like in the last several days she'd probably only spent a handful of hours sober and it showed on her face. Painful bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark circles and her already fair skin was starting to look almost ghostly white, especially in contrast with her dark clothes of choice.
Walking into the closet, she rummaged through her coat pockets and bottoms of purses, gathering all the money she had on hand and put that into her purse for the day. Her guess was she had close to seven hundred dollars on her, which she was planning on putting towards a gift for Fish to try and get back into her good graces.
She missed working at the club and even though it wasn't like she needed to work for money, it would be something to help fill her days and nights with.
Just as she started into the living room there was a knock at her door. With a sigh she walked over and looked through the peephole to see a flower delivery guy with a bouquet in hand.
Pulling open the door she didn't give him a chance to say anything as she stated, "Pam lives in apartment nine, not nineteen." She said she referring to one of the neighbors in her building who had to have been seeing at least five different guys and had a constant stream of flowers being delivered from one suitor or another. On several occasions the delivery guys hadn't been paying attention and brought them to her door instead.
"Oh… uh…" He started to say, but she cut him off as she shut the door in his face and put her back against it, rubbing her hands over her face. After the week she'd had she was in no mood to be dealing with anyone –especially someone who must have been blind to the number on her door.
"Hello?"
Bird, looked over her shoulder at her door when she heard the delivery guy talking.
"I have a delivery for apartment nineteen. The order says it's for… Bird? It could be a misprint but –"
"Who are they from?" She asked, pulling the door back open and cutting his sentence off.
Looking down at the arrangement he shrugged, "Guess there's not a card."
Pulling a twenty dollar bill from her pocket, she shoved it into his hand as she took the flowers and muttered an apology for being so rude before slamming the door in his face yet again.
Once she got the arrangement set down on her kitchen counter, she stared at it. Trying to figure out who would be sending her flowers. She wondered if there was supposed to be a card at some point, because the card holder was in the display.
The arrangement was beautiful, white hydrangeas with smaller deep purple and dark red flowers giving it a dark pop of color. Her favorite part was several strands of small pearlescent, glittering glass beads that were strung together and draped throughout the flowers and over the clear vase. For someone who didn't care much about flowers –she absolutely adored the arrangement.
~(A few hours later)~
With the loud sound of a car door shutting, Bird opened her eyes and wondered at what point she'd fell asleep crouched down in the back floorboard of the car.
She waited until the driver started the car and pulled out onto the road before she silently climbed up into the seat and scooted over to the middle so she could watch them in the rear-view mirror.
"Detective Gordon." She greeted, catching him entirely off guard and causing him to swerve into oncoming traffic before quickly over correcting and running the passenger side tires along the sidewalks edge.
"What the hell are you doing?" He angrily yelled as he quickly found a spot to pull over and shut the car off, still trying to catch his breath from the scare she'd given him.
A fact she seemed completely pleased with herself about –it was apparent from the look on her face.
Turning in his seat, he looked at her, every ounce of his expression demanding an answer from her –and a damn good one.
"Did you kill him fast or make him suffer?" Bird asked, her voice had a calmness to it that shot a chill down his spine.
"What are you –"
"Come on, Jim. You saw where I worked –the company I keep. There's no point in lying to me, I know you're the one who killed Oswald."
Jim looked at her, noticing for the first time how bad she looked. If he had to guess he'd say she hadn't slept in a week, not to mention the bruises and cuts that contrasted against her pale skin.
"Was it quick?" She repeated her question.
"I'm not talking about this… not with you." He argued, shaking his head.
"Why not?"
"Mainly because you don't know what the hell you're even talking about." He sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"I know more than you think, Jim Gordon." Bird said, lowering her head some and shielding her face in more shadows from her hood.
A look of confusion spread over his face at her words. At first her words sounded like a threat but now he wasn't sure. Most of all he wasn't sure what she was even doing there, it had crossed his mind that maybe she looked unstable enough she might try to kill him. Yet she sat still in the seat and hadn't made a move for him or a weapon.
Each time he crossed paths with the oldest Wayne child, he became more aware that the person she is –is a far cry from the teary eyed, seemingly innocent girl he'd talked to after her parents deaths.
"Starling, you need to get out." He instructed, nodding to the back door of the car. "I think you've been through a lot and you're not in a good place right now."
"Perceptive today, aren't we?" Her voice was seeded with sarcasm and he physically bit down on his tongue to keep his anger in check at her smart-ass remark.
"It's Bird. She corrected, "And I'm not leaving until I have said what I need to say to you."
"Okay…" He breathed, "Then talk fast, I'm running late."
"Please, you were almost an hour late to work yesterday. I think you can give me ten minutes."
His eyes widened with the realization she'd been following him, since at the very least the day before.
He opened his mouth to ask her what she was playing at, but he didn't get the chance as she pulled in a shaky breath and said, "I know Gotham has a way of breaking people in ways they didn't expect, but you know… I think for a minute I actually believed you could be different. The promise that you made both to my brother and I, that you'd find who killed our parents. I didn't believe it… Bruce did, but I thought the most important thing about it was that you believed it."
"I'm still looking into your parent's murders." Jim stated, as he turned back in his seat and looked up to her in the rear-view mirror where she was still watching him.
With a small shrug she quietly said, "Gotham broke you faster than I thought it would."
"Cobblepot, was a friend of yours?" He questioned, she'd already made it clear that his disappearance was the reason she was there.
"We were the best of friends." She corrected, and in the mirror he saw her eyes grow dark as she raised her head to get a better look at him in the mirror.
Just like everyone else, he was curious as to how they'd met –let alone became friends. From what he knew Oswald was a low-level thug, an umbrella boy for Fish Mooney. Starling wasn't only a Wayne, but there was an age difference between them as well.
As much as he wanted to know how they crossed paths, now wasn't the time to bring it up.
He needed her to stop digging around before she ended up finding out Oswald was still alive, somewhere. He hoped somewhere far away from Gotham. If Falcone found out he was still alive, they'd probably both be killed.
Choosing his words carefully he avoided her eyes in the mirror as he explained, "Look, I'm sorry he was your friend. But you know the way this sorta stuff plays out. The order came from Carmine Falcone, if I didn't do it then I was going to be killed."
"Right, and naturally your life means more than his did right?"
Jim's eyes cut back up to the mirror when he heard her question.
Seeing she had his attention, she pushed, "Why? Because he's just some street criminal? Because he was just an umbrella boy? A low-life that no one would miss?"
Their eyes locked in the mirror and there was a glint of emotion in her eyes as she continued, "Well, you're wrong. Maybe he didn't live by the same moral code as a lot of people, but his life still meant something. He mattered, okay? He mattered to me and I'm not exaggerating in the least about this –he is his mother's world. She loves him so much and when he never comes home, it will kill her. So maybe the life of someone like him doesn't matter to you –but he did to me."
Jim swallowed hard at seeing how much she meant every word of what she'd said, so much so that he wanted to turn back around and tell her he didn't kill him. Maybe in time she'd learn the truth, but it was too risky for anyone at all to know the whole story right now. Not only could the consequences be fatal for himself, but Bullock had pointed out that it wouldn't be outside the realm of reason for Barbara to be targeted too.
"I am sorry." He said sincerely, pausing for a moment before asking, "What happened to your face?"
"Pretty sure I got fired from my job." She stated, her eyes narrowing as she added, "Learning that my best friend had been killed sent me into a rage and Fish didn't appreciate it, to say the least."
"Maybe that's your cue to leave this part of your life behind." He said with a hopefulness in his voice for her. Plus, from what he'd learned in his few dealings with Fish Mooney, Bird was lucky to have made it out alive.
"And what? Move back into Wayne Manor? Maybe attend university in England or something? Stick to the straight and narrow." She scoffed, "I can't. The danger of this city courses through me like the blood in my veins. I can't just put on a pretty dress and pretend to be normal."
"Normal?"
"Mhm." She hummed with a nod, "Have you ever felt so out of place, like you don't belong? No matter how much you try…you just don't."
Silently he watched her in the mirror, and gave a small nod for an answer.
"Yeah, well… that's the way I felt my entire life. I had a good family and lots of so-called friends, but even being surrounded by them –I was still alone. Then I met Oswald and in a lot of ways he's like me and for the first time in my life I didn't feel alone anymore." She admitted, pinching the skin on the back of her hand as she spoke in an attempt to disconnect from the pain of losing him. The last thing she needed or wanted was to start crying again.
"I heard someone say once that one of the worst feelings in the world is to feel completely alone in a room full of people." She said so softly, he barely heard her as she breathed, "Personally, I can say there is a lot of truth to that saying."
The car fell into an uncomfortable silence of him struggling against the urge of admitting he hadn't really killed Oswald Cobblepot and Bird using every last bit of self-control she had to hold back the whirlwind of emotions inside of her.
A part of her was always teetering on the edge, barely feeling in control was something she was used too. Only this time it felt different, maybe over the past few days she'd mixed the wrong medications or her mental state was truly deteriorating in ways she hadn't felt before.
Either way –she didn't feel much like a person anymore. She felt like a storm pieced together with bones and covered in skin. It wouldn't take much for her to blow.
Blinking her eyes and trying to clear her vision, she looked up to see he was watching her in the rear-view mirror with a concerned and questioning expression on his face.
"What?" She asked, her voice coming out with a snakes-hiss.
"I'm just trying to figure something out."
A bitter tasting laugh slid between her dry, chapped lips when she questioned, "Let me guess… you wanna know how a Wayne fell so far?"
A single nod was the only answer she received. Normally, she scoffed at those questions –leaving the asker with more questions than they had to begin with. But it was cold outside that day and she was appreciating the warm flow of air from the heater vents inside the car, not to mention she was still sore from the beating she'd received from Fish's thug and the seat of the car was much more comfortable than out walking on the streets.
Deep down there might have even been a small part of her that was just yearning for some sort of human interaction after the alcohol and drug filled binge she'd been on while wallowing around in her emotions and self-pity.
Pulling in a deep breath, she slowly let it out; feeling her lungs deflate inside her chest.
"I ran away a lot as a teenager." She started to explain, "I don't really know why, I guess… there was just this feeling of complete freedom on the streets and I relished in it." With a small smile she remembered, "I even had this bag I kept hidden with clothes I'd picked up on the streets so I'd fit in better."
The smile faded and her eyes grew dark, "I was fifteen when I was attacked on the streets; raped and shot…left to die in a dark, cold alley."
Turning in his seat, he looked at her surprised not only to learn the news but also how she so bluntly stated it, it was clear she'd disconnected from what had happened to her in such a way that she could talk about it in the same tone of voice one might discuss the evening news.
"Obviously that changed me." She breathed, "But what really changed me was afterwards when I found out three other girls had been attacked before me, over the span of a couple months."
His eyebrows furrowed as Bird let out a painfully dry laugh and added, "We all sort of looked alike, so I guess the monster had a type."
"Starling –"
"The only difference between me and them was that they were street kids and I wasn't. The police did nothing to try and catch the guy when it was just girls living on the streets, then it happens to a Wayne and all of sudden everyone wants justice."
"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and his tone full of sincerity as he spoke with a new understanding of her. As much as he tried to not judge a book by it's cover, he'd started to form an opinion of her. That she had been simply acting out, rebelling even –just because she could. Only now pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place and he could understand how something that traumatic could change someone.
"Don't be, I mean at least I lived, right?" She countered, looking at him from under her hood, "That's what everyone said, how lucky I was to be alive."
"Anyways…" She waved a hand in front of her in a dismissive way, "That was the day I realized that the only thing that mattered was my last name. It didn't matter that this freak was… brutalizing teenage girls, I didn't even matter –only the fact that someone would dare do that to one Gotham's one percent."
Looking down she absentmindedly twisted the fabric on the end of her jacket sleeves, letting the car fall back into a silence before sighing, "Like I said, it changed me. I guess the entire experience should have made me want to make a difference or something, turn me into a bleeding heart. But it didn't. I saw just how cold this world can be and it was then that I realized if I wanted to survive in a world that cold –I had to be even colder."
He pulled in a breath, feeling the heaviness of what she was saying weighing down on his chest as he said, "Everyone has to matter or no one matters."
With raised eyebrows she said, "Careful detective, you're starting to sound like a straight arrow again, like someone who didn't just execute somebody else on a Don's orders. Or are you trying to say Oswald just didn't matter?"
"No, I'm not saying that." He argued, a glint of anger back in his eyes. The burden of his secret, knowing that he'd let Oswald live was getting harder and harder to carry in ways he'd never expected.
"The truth is, I don't think I was normal before the attack. I've always thought differently than normal, I guess." He watched as she pulled her hood down and let her hair out of the clip she'd pinned it up with, rubbing her scalp she shrugging, "I told you that Oswald and I were alike in some ways; a lack of a moral compass for example."
Thinking about the hardships she'd faced in her own life and everything she'd learned about Oswald, she reasoned, "Maybe we both got dealt a worse deck than most and it twisted us up inside until something got broken. I don't know, maybe we were really born different… maybe we were born sick."
"Do you really believe that?" Jim asked her. With all the bad he'd seen in the world at times it had made him wonder if some people were just born bad; built differently than others. But when that excuse was so easily tossed out it took accountability away from someone for their actions.
She gave a small nod before questioning back, "Do you?"
A beat of silence passed as he gave both the question and his answer some thought, before trying to put his thoughts into words. "I think maybe we're all born with something light and something dark inside of us, maybe we're even predisposed to sway one way more than the other. But when you try and excuse the bad things you've done by claiming you were born that way…" With a small shrug he sighed, "We have to hold ourselves accountable for what we do –the good and the bad."
"Fair enough." She conceded, leaning forward in the seat and closer to where he was turned to face her as she asked, "So how should you be held accountable for killing Oswald?"
When he shot her a look that read 'let it go' she raised her eyebrows as she said in an accusing voice, "You're welcome, by the way."
"For what?" He countered, thinking the last thing he owed her was a thank you. Not only was she digging around in things that could get him killed, she'd also almost caused him to wreck his car that morning.
"You're alive because of me, you know. Who do you think called Falcone to let him know that Fish was overstepping her boundaries and ordering the execution of a GCPD detective?"
When she saw the look on his face as her words fully sunk in, she nodded, "That's right. So then imagine how I felt once I learned you were the one who killed someone important to me afterwards."
Without giving him time to say anything, she opened the door and got out, pausing for only a moment to pull her hood back up before she disappeared into the bustling late morning sidewalk.
Jim watched in his mirrors until Bird was no longer visible amongst the other Gothamites on the busy sidewalk. He'd wondered who or what had clued Falcone in to what was happening when he'd showed up himself to stop both him and his partner Bullock from being finished off in that blood stained chop shop.
Seeing how upset and hurt she was over thinking Cobblepot was dead pulled at him on the inside, it was clear she'd been through more pain in her life than most. But he had no way of knowing what she'd do if armed with the information that he was still alive.
Starting the car, he blew out a heavy sigh and rested his head against the steering wheel with the realization that he had no clue what she might do with thinking she knew he'd killed Cobblepot. He already had two detectives from MCU keeping tabs on him over discovering Mario Pepper had been framed for the Wayne murders.
If Bird talked to the wrong people, he very well could go down for a murder he didn't commit or she might even end up getting them both killed.
~(A couple hours later)~
Bird had been wandering the streets of Gotham rather aimlessly for the last few hours ever since she'd confronted Jim Gordon.
She'd been locked away inside of her head trying to plot her next move. As angry as she was about everything that had happened, she felt like she didn't have anywhere to go besides back to Fish. That nightclub had practically been a second home to her in many ways she could use the distraction of work to keep her on track and keep her from the self-destruction she'd slipped into since losing both her parents and best friend.
Reaching a street with various vendors set up, she slowly walked along from table to table seeing what all was offered. She'd just closed in on a fresh fruit stand when she heard a voice say her name.
"Starling?"
Her shoulders tensed as she remembered hearing that voice before, on the day she'd learned her father had left her an inheritance she'd never expected, the voice belonged to Harvey Dent.
Not turning around, she sat the bright green apple back down on the stand and tried to casually walk away, pretending she didn't hear him.
After all, the last time she'd seen him she was at least semi-holding her life together, and she wasn't coming off the end of drug and alcohol filled bender that had resulted in her losing days in her memory. To be honest, she didn't even know what day it was, she was just glad she remembered to shower that morning.
"Starling, hey."
She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh when she felt a gentle, but strong hand land on her shoulder and she knew he'd caught up with her.
"Harvey, hey…" She said managing her best to put on a smile as she slowly turned to face him, she did her best to keep her face shielded in the shadow of her dark hood. Never-mind the fact she was still healing from the beating she'd taken, she knew how bad she looked from everything that had happened and she was pretty sure if he saw how bad she truly looked that day he might ask for his card back that he'd given her his personal number on.
"Hey, I thought that was you." He smiled, as he asked, "Were you just trying to avoid me?"
"No." She lied, letting out a nervous laugh and looking around for an excuse as to why she had to go.
Not entirely sure he bought her answer, he observed how she seemed to be looking at anything but at him. Like the last thing on earth she had time to do was give him the time of day.
Harvey opened his mouth to apologize for bothering her and say that he had to get going, but before he could a car backfired from down the street and he heard Bird gasp as she raised her head and looked over that way to see what had happened.
When she did, the sunlight cast out the shadows on her face and he saw the bruises and cuts on her skin.
"Oh my god." He breathed, his eyebrows furrowing in anger as he asked, "Who did that to you?"
"It was my own fault." She quickly replied, lowering her head again and wishing she'd never stopped when he caught up with her.
He thought back to how adamant she was that he help her immediately set up a will leaving everything to her brother the day he'd met with her to go over what her father left her. He thought then from the way she was acting that she might have been worried about her life being in danger, now seeing that she'd clearly taken a beating he was thinking maybe she had reason to be worried –which worried him.
"Who hurt you?" He repeated, with gravel in his voice.
"What's it to you anyways?" She countered, crossing her arms over her chest and reverting back to her thirteen year old overly-stubborn self who used to counter every question she was asked with another question.
"Maybe I don't like seeing people get hurt who don't deserve it." He quickly answered.
"You're a good guy, I get it." She finally said, shaking her head as she spoke, "But you don't know anything about me."
Thinking back to how he'd told her he was one of the people who actually wanted to help clean up Gotham, to rid the city of all the criminals and corruptness, Bird said in a softer voice, "If you did know anything about me, you'd probably book it in the other direction."
"I highly doubt that." He answered honestly, and her mind raced back to him giving her his number and the more than obvious flirting that had been going on.
With raised eyebrows she questioned, "Wait… are you the one who sent me flowers?"
"No…" His head cocked slightly with his answer, thinking that was a rather odd thing to accuse him of.
"Uh-huh." She nodded, with her lips pressed together and slightly puffed out, before she said in an accusatory tone, "That's really weird, you know? We've spoken one time and you'd had have to get my address off of your end of the paperwork."
"And then!" She exclaimed pointing a finger at him, "You don't even send a card with the flowers, that's creepy."
"Okay, you can stop pointing at me like that." Harvey said, holding back a laugh as he reached forward and put his hand flat on top of hers to lower it, "I didn't send you any flowers. If I had; there would have been a card, because I would have wanted you to know they were from me."
Seeing the look on her face he realized, "You don't believe me."
"Well, you are a lawyer. Knowing that fact –one can never be sure how much said is actually true." She argued, gesturing with a hand as she added with a look of confidence and amusement, "How much of what you say is real?"
"Offensive." He stated, but the look on his face showed more of curiosity and amusement than if she'd really offended him, "I have no reason to lie to you. Could it be you're accusing me of something because you're trying to deflect my questions about who hurt you?"
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, angered he saw right through what she was trying to do.
"It doesn't matter." Bird shrugged, the words artfully leaving her tongue as she repeated, "It's still creepy to send a girl card-less flowers when you shouldn't have their address in the first place."
He watched her as he held back a laugh at how convinced she was that he'd sent her flowers when he knew he hadn't. But the hilarity of the moment was still overshadowed by knowing that someone had hurt her and he still wanted to know what happened and who'd hurt her.
"I know that you don't really know me, but if you're in some kind of trouble. I can help you." He offered in such a sincere voice it caught her off guard.
Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she looked around and quickly located a narrow back alley just off to the side. Given the first chance of slipping away unnoticed, she was going to make a break for it. If she remembered correctly, it was the back entrance to an Italian restaurant owned by none other than Salvatore Maroni, but she was sure it would only take her a few minutes to get through the kitchen and out of the front door of the restaurant, then she'd be home free.
"I'm not in any trouble." She assured, her eyes landing on where a trio of young boys bumped into an older man and clearly took his wallet, looking back to Harvey she caught him off gaurd as she added, "I am trouble."
Before he could even begin to ask her what she talking about, a man yelled from down the alley that his wallet had been stolen and a small group of kids raced past him, nearly knocking him over. Once they were gone, Harvey turned back to where Bird had been standing only she wasn't there any longer. Spinning in a slow circle, he scanned the street for any sign of her –but she'd seemingly vanished on him, yet again.
~()~
With a sigh, Bird leaned against the door to the restaurant when it shut behind her. It was clear that Harvey Dent wasn't one to let things go and for whatever reason was genuinely concerned about what had happened to her.
Looking up she saw a guy who'd been chopping up a roll of green onions look at her with a questioning look on his face, wondering who she was and why she was back there.
Doing her best to offer up a friendly smile, she walked off with the intent of getting out of Maroni's restaurant as quickly as possible. That was until something pulled her attention over to the large sink at the corner of the kitchen, just as the guy washing dishes looked over at her.
Coming to an abrupt stop, her jaw dropped as she stared back at someone she thought she'd never see again. Just as startled as she was, Oswald dropped the plate he'd been drying off back into the water causing it to splash over the sink and onto the floor in a puddle at his feet.
The pair stared at each other in a mutual surprise, before he saw her open her mouth to say something. Fearful she might reveal his real name, he rushed over to her as best he could with his still healing leg from the bad beating he'd taken from Fish Mooney the day she'd found out he'd snitched to the MCU.
With a hand on her upper arm, he pulled her into one of the supply rooms and pulled the door shut behind them with a silent hope that no one saw them.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded to know, as he turned to face her.
Backing away from him, she angrily pointed a finger at him as she exclaimed, "You! You're still alive?"
"Yes." He said with raised eyebrows, "And I might continue to be if you keep your voice down."
"Oh my god…" She breathed pinning her eyes shut and rubbing her temples as she realized that Jim Gordon must have found some way to spare him, and she'd handed his name over to the MCU.
"What are you doing here?" He repeated, his eyes widened as he stared at her.
Ignoring his question, she took a few more steps away from him with a look of hurt flashing over her face as she asked, "You're alive and you didn't even tell me? How could you do that to me… just let believe you were really dead?"
"At first it was too dangerous for you to know, if your reaction wasn't genuine Fish would have suspected something." Oswald explained, his arms and hands raised slightly in surrender as he hobbled closer to her with an admission, "When I returned to the Gotham, I tried calling you from a payphone. You never answered."
Her eyes narrowed in anger at his tone and the way he'd voiced the sentence, as if it were her own fault she didn't know he was alive. "I haven't charged my phone in days –the only person who ever calls me is my brother."
He stepped closer, coming to a stop when she backed up and shook her head. He wasn't sure if she was putting distance between them because she was fighting the urge to hurt him or if she was just too hurt from everything that had happened –possibly even both.
When she stepped just under the light towards the back of the small space, he saw the look on her face was one more of pain than any other emotion. Anger he could handle, he was used to the wrath of her anger. But seeing her upset put a knot in his stomach, especially knowing he was the reason for the pain she'd been in.
There were very few people in the world who could cause an emotional response from him, his mother was one of course and then there was Bird. The person who was closest to him in the world, the street-smart teenager he'd met years back had grown into a savvy young woman and quickly became more than just a trusted ally over the last few years, she was a friend –a true friend.
"I'm sorry." His voice was soft as he spoke and the words hung in the air. He rarely apologized about anything, unless he'd messed up so bad that his life was on the line. Then he'd say anything it took to survive. But an honest apology from him was a rare occurrence and Bird knew this.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stubbornly looked to the side and refused to look at him. Seeing that he really was apologetic made her want to tell him it was okay, but she was too mad to let him off the hook that easily.
His eyes were locked on her as he stepped closer, taking in her familiar features that seemed to somehow always invade his thoughts. She wasn't just a girl; not to him.
He viewed her as more of a work of art than a person.
"Bird."
With a heavy sigh she turned her head to face him, seeing that he was now just in front of her.
"I'm still mad at you." She flatly stated.
Only he didn't hear what she'd said, all he could focus on was the cuts and bruises on her face. His eyes darted rapidly back and forth as he wondered how he didn't see the injuries sooner, looking down he realized how she was standing leaning forward slightly and over to one side –he could only guess there were worse bruises her clothes were hiding.
Reaching up, his fingertips just barely grazed over her skin near a dark bruise on her cheek, and for a brief second he could have sworn he felt her lean into his touch, before he quickly pulled his hand back. "Who did this to you?"
Bird's eyes met his, but it was like he was no longer in the room with her. He was outraged that someone –anyone would dare hurt her, hurt his Bird.
Still upset with him, Bird pointed to her face as she asked, "This?" Scoffing she accused, "This is your fault. You let me believe you were dead and I lashed out at Fish, which clearly she wasn't happy about."
"I tried to reach you!" He exclaimed, louder than he mean to. Pulling his eyes away from her face, he sucked in a shallow breath in an attempt to get a grip on his anger before adding, "I had one-hundred dollars. That was it, all I had to live off of. When it was clear you weren't going to answer your phone, I tried to let you know I was still alive in another manner. Did you not get the flowers?"
"That was you?" She gasped, not able to hid her surprise, "Why didn't you send a card then?"
"And have someone in passing know they were from me? Proof that I was still alive written down on paper for anyone to see?"
Her confusion grew as she asked, "Oswald, how did you expect me to know that they were from you if there was no card?"
A blank look fell over his face briefly, and she witnessed his right eye lid twitch for a moment before he asked, "Was it not obvious?"
He'd picked everything from the arrangement out from his knowledge of her, knowing she'd love everything about it. Most importantly and including the glass beads that came with it, he'd seen her taking those out of several arrangements that Fish had received at the club.
She raised her eyebrows in question, and his raised in response as he wondered who else she could have thought was sending her flowers. Especially ones so well suited to her liking. He paid attention to her, he knew her and he thought it would have been easy enough for her to put two-and-two together. No one could have possibly arranged something so perfect for her, not to mention he'd spent close to the last of his money on them in an attempt to let her know he was alright.
Hearing a noise outside of the room, they both looked over to the door expecting someone to walk inside. When no one did he held up a hand for her to be silent, before going over to the door to see who was out there.
Bird's eyebrows lowered as she saw the hard time he was having just trying to walk. He'd always walked a little differently, but now it was possibly the most obvious thing about him. The problem seemed to be with his knee, and his foot pointed out to the side instead of forward like it should have.
After making sure no one was right outside eavesdropping, Oswald pulled the door shut and turned around nearly jumping when he realized she was right behind him now. It was unsettling how quiet she could be.
He shot her a warning look, letting her know he didn't appreciate her sneaking up behind him.
"Does it still hurt?" She questioned, nodding to his leg and making him shift uncomfortably on the hard tile floor beneath them. Being called Penguin was bad enough before, but now with the injury he'd sustained and it not healing up right from everything he'd been through he was well aware how bad his limp was.
"Not as much as before." He simply answered, before blowing out a breath and pointing out, "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you!"
As always she was quick to anger, though normally she didn't have such a short fuse with him.
"Why are you working at one of Maroni's places?" She demanded to know.
Matching her level of anger and irritation, he responded, "Did you not hear how I had little money and spent most of it trying to get a message to you?"
With an unamused look, she cocked her head to the side and looked at him with an expression demanding the real answer. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't make such a brazen move, such as going to work for Maroni, without ulterior motives behind it.
"I can't talk about this now. Not here." He said, his voice lowering as he said, "My shift is over at ten tonight."
"Okay." She nodded, understanding he wasn't withholding information from her; she'd be let in on the plan, just not this exact minute in time.
"Do you have money for food?" Bird questioned, her lips pursed into a thin line as she waited on his answer.
"Not much." He admitted, quickly adding in that he'd get his first official paycheck that Friday and withholding how the money he did have was tips off the tables he'd swiped without anyone noticing.
Taking her purse off her shoulder, she took out all of the cash she had and pushed it into his hand.
"This really isn't necessary." He politely declined, knowing the protest would be useless. She wouldn't take it back and in all honesty he needed every penny he could get his hands on.
A fact that became embarrassingly clear when she started picking the loose change out of the bottom of her purse and dropping it into his open hand.
The only clothes he had in his possession now was the two sets of work uniforms he'd been given his first day and the clothes he'd taken off the two guys who'd picked him up when he'd been hitchhiking; both of which were now dead by his hand. He couldn't ever remember a time where he was worse off in his entire life.
After getting the money squared away in a pocket of his white apron, he looked up to see her still rummaging through her purse. Holding up a hand he said, "What you've given me will more than suffice. I don't plan to be living in these conditions for long."
"I wasn't looking for money." Bird stated as she displayed a half full bottle of white oblong shaped pills, shaking the bottle she announced, "For your leg."
As Oswald took the bottle and started to read the label, Bird said, "Vicodin."
He tucked the bottle away in his pocket with the money, but she didn't miss the look he gave her from under his eyebrows. He might have considered Bird to be more a piece of artwork than a person, but he also knew she had her faults and flaws. Raised with a silver spoon or not, she'd seen the cruelness of the world intimately –in ways that no one ever should.
Still, he'd take her faults over anyone else's perfections.
"I'll see you tonight." She said, as she stepped past him and reached for the handle to the door, knowing they'd spent long enough in there.
Looking down he adjusted his apron and made sure neither the pills or money was visible from the pocket he'd stored them in. Realizing he didn't hear the door open, he raised his head to see what was going on.
Just as he did, she took him by surprise as she moved closer and wrapped her arms around him in a hug so tight it hurt his still healing body, but he didn't mind the pain.
At first his body tensed and stiffened from both the surprise and the feel of her body pressed tightly against his, but after a few moments he relaxed into the embrace and wrapped his arms around her.
He closed his eyes and locked the feeling of how it felt to have her in his arms to memory. The warmth he felt in those moments with her was everything, knowing that he wasn't alone and though he may have fell farther than he imagined –he hadn't lost her.
It was such a contrast to how he'd felt since the day he'd almost been killed. Everything had happened so fast after Fish found out he'd snitched that it made his head spin, and other than the favor Falcone had granted him by agreeing to have Jim Gordon be the one ordered to kill him and Jim letting him live –the world had felt just as ice cold as the Gotham River he'd been pushed into off the pier.
He'd spent what felt like an eternity walking on the side of the hi-way with his leg hurting so bad he could hardly stand it and was passed by hundreds of people until finally two younger guys had picked him up, but it was clear right away that it was less than good fortune when they both clearly enjoyed watching him struggle through the embarrassment of trying to get into the car when they kept driving off. Then one of them had even had the gall to tell him the way he walked made him look like a penguin.
He'd barely even gotten off the bus in Gotham when someone recognized him and tried to drag him back to Fish Mooney where he'd be sure to meet a terrible fate.
Of course, they'd all paid for what they'd done against him; paid with their lives, but all the coldness and cruelty he'd faced was now almost entirely erased from his encounter with Bird. He now wasn't worried about where his next meal was coming from and he even had enough money to buy a few more nights at the little hole in the wall motel he'd managed to get a room at, not to mention he finally had something to help the pain he was in from his still healing, badly injured leg. But perhaps what dulled the pain most of all from the unexpected hug she'd sprung on him.
His fingers slightly dug into her sides through her clothing in response to the jasmine and light citrus notes from her perfume filling his nose. It was a scent he always remembered, always came to mind whenever he thought about her –but to smell it on her was an entirely different experience. Before he was even entirely sure of what he was doing, his face was buried in the crook of her neck –breathing in her scent deeply through her thick waves of hair.
Raising his head up slightly , Oswald said, "Thank you." Though the words didn't seem quite enough for how truly thankful he was. She'd reminded him that the sun shined on even the cloudiest, rainiest days –something he at times struggled to remember. He felt her nod, and her arms tightened around him once more before she pulled out of his arms and left him alone in the room.
A couple minutes later, he emerged and looked around wondering if he might catch another glimpse of her in the restaurant, but she was already gone and the after lunch lull had left the seating area vacant, with most of the staff outside on smoke breaks.
Leaning his back against one of the metal counters, he did another quick check of his surroundings before taking the money she'd given him out of his pocket to see just how much was there. While trying to straighten out the bills, a card fell from the crumpled mess onto the floor.
Leaning down he picked the card up, running his thumbs over the thick card with a glossy finish over the black text printed on it: Harvey Dent, Assistant District Attorney
His eyebrows lowered as he read over the contact information a few times, wondering why Bird was carrying around a business card for one of Gotham's ADA's, he started to tuck it back into his pocket to return to her –until he noticed something on the back.
Raising it up to get a better look, he saw it was a hand written number –he could only guess a personal number. His curiosity turned to irate annoyance, he had no idea who this Harvey Dent was –but he didn't need to know him to know that no matter who he was, he wasn't good enough for Bird. Not for his Bird.
His Bird.
Did this Harvey Dent know her as well as he did? No, it would be impossible, he knew her better than anyone.
He probably wouldn't treat her like she deserved to be treated –like nothing short of a queen.
There was a pounding in his head, thudding painfully hard against his temples as the numbers on the card blurred from now hazy eyesight. He didn't need to meet him to know he'd be all wrong for her, he could feel it in his bones.
Slamming the card down onto a cutting board on the counter behind him, he grabbed the nearest knife and stabbed the blade straight through the card so hard the knife stayed upright lodged in the board beneath it.
"You alright?" Caught off guard, he jumped slightly as he looked over his shoulder to see one of the cooks looking at him with a confused and nearly frightened look on his face.
Letting out a small, nervous laugh –it took him a few moments of struggling with the knife before he pulled it from the cutting board and laid it down with a clank on the counter. Without another look at the cook, he picked the card up and walked back over to his station at the sink, where he shredded the card into the tiniest possible pieces before using the scalding hot water in the sprayer to disintegrate what was left of the card until it all disappeared down the drain.
A/N - Thank you so much for reading the chapter! I really hope you guys liked it.
Oswald was not happy about finding Harvey's card, huh? lol
As always look for me on Tumblr (sagelondyn) I've got several edits posted for this story.
Thanks to Erudessa-gabrielle, DancingDorisDay, Katniss789 and guest for being kind enough to review the last chapter. I appreciate it more than you know! And a very special thank you and shout-out to Miss E Charlotte for not only reviewing, but for supporting me and this story from the very beginning!
xx
It would really mean a lot if you could take a few moments to leave a review and let me know you're reading and (hopefully) enjoying the story. ^_^
