IV
"My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together." –Desmond Tutu
After saying goodbye to the other worker who'd been tasked with staying until close that night, Oswald walked out of the back exit with the two bags of trash to throw in the dumpster. After a slight struggle with getting the rain slicked lid flipped backwards he threw the bags in and walked around to the back of it to throw the lid shut.
He'd barely taken a few steps away when he heard a thud behind him, spinning around he saw Bird crouched down on top of the dumpster. His eyes drifted up trying to see where she'd jumped from –her ability to do so had never ceased to amaze him.
"You went from holding an umbrella to taking the trash out?" She asked, with a small smirk. Her glossed lips were just visible from under the shadow her dark hood had cast over her face from the streetlight, "How the mighty have fallen."
His head dropped to the side as he stared at her with an unamused expression, irritation laced his words as he sighed, "A temporary but necessary fall, I assure you. I have a plan in place." Looking back down to the lid she'd landed on, he added, "And I should have left the top open."
"Can't wait to hear it." She said, as she jumped of the dumpster and ignored the snarky remark he'd made about leaving it open so she'd have landed in the dumpster when she jumped.
"I'm parked over here." Bird called over her shoulder as she started towards the end of the alley, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he followed her. He knew her preferred method of getting around town wasn't by car –she preferred to get around Gotham by foot; normally leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Something that wasn't plausible for him before, let alone after the severe leg injury he'd sustained.
Once they were in the car and she'd turned the heat on, he aimed the passenger side vent at him, appreciating the warm air on such a cold night. He'd been having to walk or take the bus to and from his new job and it was a welcomed relief to be in a car, especially with her.
"Where to?" She questioned, watching out of her window as a car drove past them on the road.
The only answer she got was silence as he thought the question over in his head. The only place he really had to go was back to the small hotel he'd been paying cash for by the night, and the heat didn't work in his room.
"Hungry?"
Looking over at her he gave a small, almost weak nod, before sliding down in the seat some and crossing his arms over his chest as he stared out of the window. She watched him as he pulled the white work hat he'd been forced to wear off and crumpled it in his hand in a childlike manner.
Silently, she pulled her car out onto the street and drove off knowing just the place to go. A small all night diner she'd watched the sunrise from many nights growing up.
It was a long drive there, but neither of them seemed to mind as they rode together in complete, but comfortable silence.
Every so often she'd look over at him, hardly able to believe he was really alive and beside her after so long of thinking she'd never see him again. While he remained locked inside of his head, sorting out his thoughts and absorbed in his ever growing plan to get to the top of his game in Gotham; he'd suffered some mishaps and acted too quickly without thinking the plan through before and he'd nearly met his fate. It was a mistake he didn't intend on making again.
No, from now on his every thought, every little move had to be perfect –leaving no room for error.
"Hey, we're here." Bird said as she reached over and gently shook his shoulder.
Blinking a few times to clear his eyes that had been dried from the heater, he looked at the small diner before turning to face her with raised eyebrows.
"Don't judge." She scolded, "I've never seen any of Fish's people here and it's quiet, we can talk."
He had to admit it certainly wouldn't make his top ten list of places to eat, but there was a certain appeal about the building –if nothing else it was on the outskirts of Gotham and not a usual haunt for anyone he knew of.
Not to mention the delicious scent of food that lingered in the air as soon as he stepped out of the car which stirred up the gnawing hunger pains in his empty stomach. Normally he'd snag something to eat from the restaurant he worked at or a nearby food truck on his break, but that day his stomach had been knotted in a sick feeling after finding the business card in the money Bird had given him.
Once they were seated and ordered their food, Bird demanded he tell her everything that had happened from the day Fish Mooney had found out he'd snitched; the day that had changed everything.
After a check of their surroundings, he began to fill her in on how he'd made a deal with Falcone –that in exchange for a secret he'd task Jim Gordon with killing him. He'd thought from the day he'd met the GCPD's newest detective outside of Fish's club that he had a conscience, that he was a good man. A fact that was verified for him when he did indeed, spare his life.
Oswald told her of how he thought Jim could be trusted, that he might be a real friend. A fact which Bird quickly disputed –she didn't trust easily.
Upon hearing the rest of what had happened and how his working for Maroni was really a cover to gain information for Don Falcone, Bird's eyebrows lowered in confusion, "But you're a dishwasher… that doesn't exactly give you inside information from Maroni."
Blowing out a breath, he conceded, "Clearly, this part of the plan is still a work in progress."
He knew it would take some time, but hopefully sooner rather than later –he'd become a trusted member of the Maroni Crime Family and privy to secrets that could keep buying him further into Falcone's trusted circle.
"Okay…" She breathed, swirling her last French fry through the ketchup on her plate before admitting, "It's a good enough plan. Playing them off each other, weakening them both while also getting them both to trust you. Question though: what are you going to do if it all blows up in your face?"
"It won't." He confidently replied, lowering his head and looking at her from under his eyebrows with a reminder, "Come now, Bird. You know better than to underestimate me."
"True." She nodded, pointing her fork at him, "But I've also spent the last several days believing you were dead, because of a plan you also thought would work out."
His eyes narrowed at her incessant need to bring up his recent failures, he didn't need the reminder that he'd let arrogance get the better of him. She knew how smart he was, clever enough to rise to the top and eventually stake his claim as the King of Gotham –but he'd been foolish to get ahead of himself. No way was it possible for him to be able to control every little aspect in the war for power, which meant there were no guarantees.
"The climb to the top is a treacherous one. Full of mishaps and factors out of my control." He stated, his hand clenched down at his side in anger.
"And the road to hell is paved with good intentions." Bird countered with a shrug, as she picked up her glass to take a drink and missed the look on his face.
He couldn't remember there being a time when she seemed to go against everything he said and thought.
"Are you mocking me?" He questioned, his voice quiet with gravel in his tone as he spoke.
"No." She answered honestly, setting her glass down with a clank against the tabletop, "I just think you're going to get us both killed."
"You've been saying that for close to a year now. Yet, here we are –alive and well."
"You're desolate with a busted leg!" She exclaimed, before motioning to herself, "I got the crap kicked out of me."
"Tomorrow is a new day." He spoke, with his voice slightly cracking from the conviction in his tone, "They tried to kill me, cruelly and heartlessly tried to eliminate me and here I am. I persevered and am now closer than ever to the top; earning the trust of Don Falcone, himself."
"When disassembling any structure from the inside out, you run the risk of the entire thing collapsing in on you." Bird argued and Oswald wasn't sure if she was arguing with him for arguments sake or if she no longer believed in him.
Either way, he'd tired of the back and forth with the one person who knew the ins and outs of his plan from the beginning, the one person he could be entirely honest with and now it appeared she no longer believed in his cause.
He'd almost lost his life and now it seemed like he'd lost her too.
Without another word to her, he abruptly stood up and hobbled out of the restaurant. Shaking her head, she pulled her bowl of soup closer to her and grabbed her spoon to eat it with. She had no doubt that when she finished eating and went outside, she'd find him sitting in the car –arms crossed over his chest, pouting like a child.
It was several minutes later that she'd paid for both of their meals and headed outside, only she didn't see him at the car like she'd expected. Her eyes darted towards the road, he didn't seem mad enough at her that he'd attempt to walk back to wherever he was staying and even if he did –with his limp he couldn't have made it far.
"No, no! Please, Fish will kill me!"
Bird's ears picked up on the faint sound of her best friend's distressed voice and quickly sourced it to coming from the alley behind the small diner.
"Shut up!"
She heard an unfamiliar voice say just as she rounded the corner and witnessed a much taller and larger man than Oswald deliver a blow of his fist to the smaller man's face.
Anger flashed in her eyes and she darted forward, barely making a sound as she snuck up behind the stranger who she could only guess was planning on taking Oswald to Fish knowing that the rewards of being the one to turn him in would be expansive.
With a hard kick to the back of his knee, she brought the man with down a yell of pain. Now free of the iron strong grip the guy had had on him, Oswald scurried back away from him on the pavement watching as Bird efficiently knocked him out with a hard strike from her elbow to the side of his head.
Any anger he'd been holding at her for arguing against every point he'd made inside of the diner was gone now as she'd just saved his life.
Now becoming aware of the terrible pain on the side of his face, his hand landed over his cheek with a stunned look spreading over his eyes at just how hard he'd been hit.
Oswald looked up to Bird, who gave him a questioning look and he nodded in response to let her know he was okay.
With a small struggle, he managed to pull himself to his feet. He was starting to feel like it wasn't safe to step one foot outside of Maroni's restaurant. None of Fish's people would ever go in there, except Bird apparently –he still wasn't sure what she'd been doing there.
This was the second occurrence in his short time back in Gotham that someone tried to drag him back to his former boss who'd surely kill him herself this time. Both times he'd managed to survive –the first had been on his own accord and now she'd saved him. More welcome proof that he was truly back in the city of opportunities and he was no longer alone.
"Well…" Bird breathed as she pulled a switchblade knife from her pocket and released the blade, "Can't leave him alive, the first thing he'll do is spread the world that you're not dead."
Excitement flooded over him as the gleam of the streetlight illuminated on the sharp blade in Bird's hand and she stepped closer to the still unconscious man in a predatory manner.
"Yes… my thoughts exactly." He agreed, running his tongue over his lips as he also moved closer to where she was closing in on the man.
The throbbing pain on the side of his face was enough to make him want to kill the man himself, but the only thing more electrifying than taking a life himself, was to watch her doing so.
There was a feeling of excitement rising in his stomach, one that had him feeling almost giddy as his blue eyes watched her intently.
Just as Bird started to kneel down, Oswald grabbed her arm that had the knife and pulled it behind her back. Confused, she started to pull away but stopped when she heard him clear his throat and say, "Good evening, madam."
Realizing he'd pulled her arm behind her to hide the view of the knife from a waitress who'd stumbled upon them, Bird gave her best friendly smile to the woman and reached back with her other hand to close the knife before discreetly sliding it into her pocket.
Silently the woman looked between them with a growing anxious feeling when the hairs started to prickle on the back of her neck.
"W-what's going on?" she stammered, her eyes falling to the man lying motionless on the ground.
"Everything is quite alright, no need to worry." Oswald said, waving a dismissive hand through the air, "Our friend here seems to have had a bit too much to drink."
"We should get him home before it gets any later, let him sleep this off." Bird nodded in agreement.
The waitress nodded and struggled to find a smile of her own to match theirs as they continued to stare at her, both of their smiles seeming anything but friendly.
In fact, she never knew a smile could be threatening until she crossed paths with the pair. Suddenly, stepping outside for a cigarette on her break seemed like the worst idea she'd ever had.
"Oh." She nervously laughed, slowly stepping backwards away from them, "Yeah, it's gotten pretty late."
Her eyes rapidly went back and forth between Oswald and Bird as she continued to slowly back away from them, "You guys be safe out there…"
"Thank you." Oswald politely replied and Bird called out, "You too."
Once she was out of sight and to the best of their knowledge, back inside of the diner. Oswald let out a sigh as he leaned his back flat against the exterior brick wall of the building and looked up at the starless sky.
Sharing in his annoyance at the turn the night had taken and the inconvenience the waitress had caused them, Bird sighed, "Come on, let's get him to my car. I've got rope we can tie him up with for now."
What had started as a simple case of eliminating a problem was now going to be a struggle of getting a guy who was probably bigger than the both of them put together into her car and tied up until the figured out a place to take him and kill him.
After much effort from them both, they managed to get the man into a standing position and working as a team got him around to the front of the small roadside diner and into the backseat of her car.
Pushing his body over in the seat, Oswald got in beside him and Bird ran around to the front of the car so she could quickly drive them away from there. Starting the car, her eyes met his in the rearview mirror and she wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand as she said in an airy tone, "There's rope under the passenger seat."
Oswald leaned forward and reached down until his hand landed on a coiled up rope, after which he quickly got to work on tying the man up before he could start to stir.
~(Hours later)~
Walking into her apartment, Bird reached for the light switch on the wall and flipped it on before stepping to the side to let Oswald in behind her.
"Relax." She insisted, "No one ever comes here."
"Forgive me for being on edge." Oswald sarcastically replied, "It was only hours ago that someone tried to drag me back to Fish Mooney, or did you forget that?"
"How could I forget?" She walked over and lingered in her bedroom doorway, before looking over her shoulder with a smirk, "I painted the hotel bathroom red with his blood."
Her words hung in the air long after the door had shut behind her and he could hear the shower from her bathroom running.
Exhausted he collapsed onto her couch and leaned his head back against it. He felt like staying at her place was just as risky as going home to his mother's apartment –but he had no other choice.
After leaving the diner, they'd gone back to the hotel he'd been staying at to figure out their next move. Which he'd assumed would be killing the guy in a non-bloody way to cut down on the mess and dumping his body somewhere. However; once the man had come to, Bird apparently had other plans and attacked him –leaving the body a bloody mess on the bathroom floor of his room and the walls sprayed and misted in crimson.
Even with the risk staying at her place posed, he had to admit the burning fire place in her small living room offered him some much needed warmth on the cold night. The heat didn't work in his room at the hotel and it also couldn't be denied that even her couch was more comfortable than the rock hard bed he'd been sleeping on.
Plus, with any luck he wouldn't be there long. Once he was close to securing a higher position of trust with Don Maroni, he could let his real identity be known and then there would be no more hiding. He could finally go home.
His eyes drifted over to her closed bedroom door and a small smile spread over his lips, even if he couldn't go home, staying there with Bird definitely wasn't the worst option out there. It seemed like no matter how much time they spent together, it just never felt like enough to him.
Shaking his head in an attempt to both focus and chase the ever-present thoughts of her away, he sat up and grabbed his bag that he'd dropped on the floor.
One bag, a bag that didn't even belong to him; filled with stolen clothes from his victims, hotel toiletries and food from a vending machine was what his life had been reduced to. Sure, it made it easy to pack up and go when they fled the hotel, but he longed for parts of his old life back. Being able to come and go as he pleased without worrying about being spotted, he missed his mother and knew she was probably beside herself with worrying about him. Well, worried and probably angry too, for some reason whenever he didn't make it back home she always thought he'd ran off with a woman. A fact that always slightly baffled him, considering he didn't even date.
The woman he spent the most time around was Bird, and there'd be no need for them to run off. His mother actually liked her and on several occasions had made mention to him that she didn't understand why they were just friends and had even went so far as tell Bird that she'd never find a man as elegant and handsome as her Oswald.
His eyes closed and internally he cringed as he thought of day they'd been having tea with his mother and Bird; for some reason, completely unbeknownst to him, Gertrude thought it would be acceptable to announce that she thought they would make beautiful grandchildren for her one day. He'd gotten choked on his drink of tea so badly he thought he'd never be able to catch his breath again –causing his mother to make a fuss and pet on him for the rest of the afternoon, while Bird remained unusually quiet and wouldn't make eye contact with him.
"Give me a minute to change for the night and then the shower is all yours."
Shaken from his thoughts, his breath caught in his throat causing him to make a strange, slightly strained sounding noise as he looked up and saw she wasn't only now in the same room with him –she was wrapped in just a bath towel.
"You okay?" She asked, in response to the odd sound he'd made.
"Fine." He stammered, clearing his throat and pulling his eyes away from her he repeated with more conviction, "I'm fine."
"Did you hear me about the shower?" She asked, her head cocking to the side when he stared straight in front of him and wouldn't look back at her.
"Yes." He curtly answered, adjusting some on the couch and refusing to look back at her though he didn't need to; the image of her wrapped in a towel with beads of water running down her bare shoulders and exposed skin on her chest just above where the top of the towel came was now locked into memory.
From the corner of his eye he saw her toss an armful of dark fabric into the flames of the fire place, he assumed must have been her bloodied clothes from earlier that night.
Maybe on another night he'd pointed out that if she'd been smart about the events that had taken place earlier there wouldn't have been a need to burn her clothes, but not tonight. Tonight he remained both silenced and mesmerized from the way the soft blue towel hugged her body and left a dangerous length of her legs exposed to his wandering eyes.
Bird crossed the room, between where he sat and her glass top coffee table, the bare skin of her leg brushed lightly against the fabric of his pants and caused his entire body to tense up and his hands to ball into white-knuckled fists at his sides.
Suddenly he became aware of the thudding of his heart, the way it increased much like when he'd slip into a rage –only this was different. It wasn't anger that had his blood rushing, it was something else entirely. It was the way the worn fabric of the towel allowed it to so perfectly cling to her curves and the knowledge that –that towel was the single barrier between his increasingly hungry eyes and her nude body.
After getting something from the small storage closet in the living room, she crossed back in front of him and disappeared back into her bedroom.
It was then that the anger bubbled up inside of him. He had tried many times to not have those thoughts about her, after all she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon and his unusual appearance had earned him the cruel nickname of penguin. How could she ever be attracted to him in the same way he'd started to view her?
Though, he didn't feel like the fault was his alone. How could she not know what she did to him? And then to be strutting around in front of him in just a towel alone. Is that why she insisted he come stay with her, so that she could tease and watch him squirm?
Rubbing his hands over his face, he looked back to the closed bedroom door and blew out a heavy breath. No, she hadn't. She'd invited him to stay with her because they were the best of friends and it was her apartment –meaning she could walk around wearing whatever she pleased. And it seemed liked she wasn't aware of how he felt, so how could she have known she was teasing him.
It wasn't like he'd ever tried to make it known how he now felt about her, he didn't see a point to it. Not only was she beautiful, out of his league on every level –he basically had no experience in that department and would likely end up making a fool of himself.
Just like he had the one and only time he'd attempted to move past a friendship with her. It was barely a year ago, they'd been out to eat for lunch seated right next to each other facing out of a window and he'd spent the whole time being distracted by the way the sunlight reflected on her glossed lips until soon all the could think about was how her mouth would feel pressed against his own, and how her soft hair would feel between his fingers.
His mind had been utterly consumed with her. The scent of her perfume, the silkiness of her fair skin and how sweet her mouth must taste with the strawberry iced tea she'd been sipping on. Before he was entirely sure of what he was doing, he'd leaned in intending to plant a kiss on her unsuspecting lips when she turned to face him only at the last second he'd changed his mind and panicked when she started to look his way. The entire situation had turned into a disaster, that left him stammering for words and excuses when she angrily demanded to know why the hell he head-butted her.
Never again, he swore to himself that day after apologizing profusely for the accidental head-butting, never again.
~()~
Oswald looked over to the large windows of Bird's living room and thought to himself that there couldn't be many hours left before the sun would come up. Even though he had the day off work, he was still tired from the trying events of the night before.
He wasn't sure how long ago it was that Bird had reappeared from her bedroom, dressed in black pajama pants and a light gray shirt to announce that she was going to bed and remind him that he could shower if he wanted too.
Which he'd planned to do, but as he was gathering a set of clothes from the bag he'd found all of the clippings he'd been holding onto since finding a small trailer for rent outside of Gotham City. In a cabinet of the trailer he'd found several newspapers and some maps of Gotham.
In the trailer he'd taped everything up to the ceiling, so he could look at it while he plotted his revenge on Fish and his plan to take over the city. After getting the tape from the utility drawer in Bird's kitchen, Oswald had taken the contents off her coffee table and recreated his collage on the glass surface, adding in the maps he'd color coated for Falcone and Maroni's different territories of the city.
Seeing it all laid out in front of him helped put everything into perspective, he could line up the events that had already taken place and see everything that still needed to be accomplished. To anyone else it might have looked like the creation of a madman.
After taking a shower, he moved as quietly as possible through her bedroom on his way back to the living room where he'd already made the couch up with a blanket and pillow from the linen closet.
Just as he reached the doorway to the living room, he heard her make a noise in her sleep.
Turning around he watched the blanket move from her kicking her feet in her sleep, possibly trying to run away from something in her head.
He might have made a madman's collage on her coffee table, but her bedroom had a touch of madness all its own. Atop her dresser sat a few different shaped large decorative fish bowls she'd filled with various stolen items ranging from expensive jewelry to cheap glass marbles with tangled strands of painted color inside of them. At first he'd thought she just liked to steal expensive and shiny items, but after a while he'd realized she'd take anything reflective and shiny that she could get her hands on –no matter if the item held a monetary value.
It seemed more like a compulsion than a habit, much like the way she obsessively stock piled food in her kitchen and had all of her perfume and lotion bottles lined up perfectly straight in rows of three.
Keeping an eye on her as she continued to grow more restless in her sleep, he walked over to her dresser where he picked up the perfume she always wore and brought the bottle to his nose. Breathing in a small smile spread over his lips. The jasmine and light citrus notes were absolutely lovely, but he was now sure his favorite scent on earth was the way the perfume changed with the chemistry of her skin.
Gently placing the bottle back in its spot, he started for the door again but just as he reached it he heard her gasp loudly and he turned around to see her sitting straight up in the bed, strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty face as she kicked all of the blankets off of her and fought for her breath.
In silence the pair stared at each other, his brows furrowed as he saw a few stray tears fall down her flushed cheeks and she still seemed to be trying to get a foothold in the waking world.
"Sorry." She slightly stuttered as she spoke, raising a hand to wipe her cheeks she repeated, "I'm sorry."
"For what?" He asked quietly, not understanding what she kept apologizing for.
"Waking you up?" She replied with a slight shrug of the shoulders, before reaching up and wiping her tears again only this time she left red marks on her cheeks from the force at which she tried to rid her skin of the salty tears.
"You didn't." He assured her, shifting slightly in his stance to try and alleviate some of the pressure on his bad leg.
It wasn't her crying that made him feel uncomfortable, it was how uncomfortable she seemed with him witnessing her in that state.
Nodding with a haunted look in her eyes, she mumbled something under her breath he couldn't quite make out but sounded like another apology before she laid back down and turned on her side, keeping the blankets pushed back away from her.
His eyes scanned the room as he waited for her to say something else, maybe ask him to bring her something to drink or tell him to leave her alone –possibly even tell him what had caused such a reaction from her.
All of his internal questions were met by nothing but silence from inside her apartment and the distant sound of police sirens echoing from somewhere within the city.
"Should I get you a glass of water?" He finally asked, taking a few slow hobbling steps back into the room.
The way she was curled up made it seem like she was in pain, it reminded him of a wounded animal.
"No." She declined, with a small smile at the offer. He turned to leave, but stopped when she asked in a weakened voice, "Maybe you could open a window? It's really warm in here."
"Of course." The words came out without much thought as he crossed the room to open up one of the windows for her. In those moments, seeing her so distressed he'd have done anything he could to silence the demons in her head that so clearly wouldn't let her rest.
Turning back to the bed, where she lay with her back facing him.
"I could stay." He offered in a rushed voice as if he were just trying to get to the part where he thought she'd inevitably tell him to just go back to the couch, "Just sit with you for a while, I don't mind."
Raising her head, she looked over her shoulder at him and realized for the first time that he was wearing a short sleeved, yellow polo shirt with khaki pants and white socks. Clothes he must have taken off someone he'd killed along the way, she thought to herself. It was a far cry from the suits he always wore and it was just as strange as seeing him in an all-white kitchen uniform.
Trying to hide her smile, she faced away from him again with the realization that this was his attempt at trying to comfort her; to take care of her. It was clear he seemed to feel out of place asking her that, it was no surprise. His mother had taken care of him his whole life, always fussing over and tending to him. It must have felt strange being the one to try and tend to someone else.
He was just about to give up and accept her silence as a no, when she cleared her throat and said, "I guess penguins really are as cuddly as they look."
She couldn't see him, but could feel his narrowed eyes burning a hole through the back of her head and she held back a laugh. Not many people could get by with calling him penguin, especially when that person had their back turned to him. She was perhaps the only one who could do so and she knew it.
He would never admit it out loud, but hearing the nickname from her didn't bother him the way it would if anyone else said it. Generally, he felt people called him penguin to both dehumanize and alienate him. Yet, the few and far between times she'd ever used the name with him in their years of friendship, it sounded as more a term of endearment.
Slowly getting into the bed beside her, he sat up leaned against the headboard and looked down to where she remained curled up still trying to get back to sleep.
Her bed was comfortable, he'd dare even say more so than his own. A fact he'd already known, Oswald had laid in her bed several times before –but this was the first time he'd been in the bed with her in it. All the others were times he'd broken into her apartment for various reasons and ended up laying down on her bed to see what it felt like, to let his mind drift to other universes where he might even venture to imagine she was there beside him.
Looking back over to the now open window in her bedroom, the draft of cold air carried with it the scent Bird's vanilla sugar scented candles that lined the interior windows ledge. Closing his eyes he pulled in a deep breath and tried to clear his mind, but the image of her tear stained face was still haunting him. He wondered how many nights she woke up from nightmares that left her distraught in her apartment completely alone.
In the entirety of their friendship, he'd only seen her cry a few times. The first time was when she showed up at his door with tears streaming down her face and bloodstained clothes –it was the first time she'd killed someone. From there he couldn't remember another incident where he'd seen her cry before the night her parents had been killed and he'd came to check on her when he heard the news.
Feeling the mattress slightly move, he opened his eyes and looked down to see her readjusting as her breathing changed and she started to drift off to sleep. He wondered if she'd cried when she thought he was dead. Clearly, from her confronting Fish, she was outraged over his 'murder' but now he couldn't help but wonder if the idea of losing him was enough that it brought her to tears.
It was sick, he thought, to wish that it had broken her heart. To have hope that the idea of losing him had torn her apart inside, but whether it was wrong or not the thoughts couldn't be shooed away.
A/N- Thank you for reading the fourth chapter! ^_^
I owe the biggest thank you in the world to the amazing Miss E Charlotte for all of her support and for leaving a review on the last chapter so long that the website cut her off! lol (Sorry there was no Harvey Dent in this chapter, but he'll be back soon. I promise!)
I'd also like to thank Winchestergirl123, xxXWolfsLullabyXxx, Lakky and Guest for also reviewing chapter three. I appreciate it more than you guys will ever know!
