XXI - What's Love Without Tragedy?
"There was a small part of me that was still childish, stubborn in her hope, thinking I could somehow have everything." - Megan Miranda, All the Missing Girls
•••
Jim slowly walked down the stairs, fastening the buttons on his jacket as he walked towards the kitchen.
Just another morning in the townhouse alone.
It had been a week since Mario's funeral. Seven nights that he'd laid down to sleep at night missing Bird and waking up in the morning somehow missing her even more.
He'd been so conflicted on what he should do.
Bullock kept telling him to give it time; to give Bird time.
But now here he was completely alone in the townhouse they'd shared together for quite some time.
Granted, he knew it wasn't technically his house, but it felt like home. Or at least it did when Bird was there.
And now he was left in this awkward position of not knowing if he should continue staying there or leave.
He did still have a house across town he'd paid a full years rent on when he was working as a bounty hunter.
Letting out a sigh, he shook his head, the memories of living in that place bearing down like a physical weight on him.
He'd never been a such a low place in his life before and he never wanted to go back.
Jim knew he'd never have made it out of there had it not been for Bird and her stubbornness.
Her refusal to give up on him and how she'd pushed him to not give up on himself either.
There were many times when she was the singular thing that kept him from drowning and now he had no idea where she was -or how she was holding up.
Maybe that's why he continued to stay in their house, the downstairs lights left on when he went upstairs to sleep at night -a show of his own stubbornness; that he was there waiting on her.
That he wasn't giving up.
Jim's thoughts were interrupted when he heard something move in the kitchen.
Bird?
He more-so wished than actually thought as he drew closer to the room.
It wouldn't be unlike her to be moving about the house with him having no idea.
She could be dangerously quiet -especially when she wanted too.
But when he saw who it was, his heart sank. Hopes dashed.
It wasn't Bird at all.
"Hope you don't mind." Victor Zsasz smiled at Jim as he took another drink from the glass bottle of milk he'd swiped from their refrigerator, "Helped myself."
"What are you doing here?" Jim's voice was flat.
Not amused by the assassins antics.
"I'm here as a messenger." Zsasz answered.
Jim glanced around, memorizing the scene and possible weapons he could grab if need be.
He pulled in a breath, deciding to play along.
"Okay… I'm listening."
Zsasz stepped closer to where Jim seemed to be lingering in the doorway.
"You messed up, Jim." He drew the words out with every step closer until he came to a stop and slammed the glass bottle down on the counter so hard Jim thought for sure it might break, "Killed the Don's son. He's beside himself."
"I've never seen him like this before." Zsasz glanced down at the floor.
"I want to speak with him." Jim insisted, now he was the one moving in closer.
There was a beat of silence. Victor looked like he could burst into a fit of laughter at any moment.
"Oh, no, we're waaay past that." He chuckled, "It's only a matter of time before he gives the nod to put a bullet in your head."
"You can try." Jim's posture slouched to a shrug.
Victor's expression hardened.
He looked almost offended.
"I don't try." His voice lowered and he started forward. Advancing slowly like a serial killer on film. No need to run after his prey, he'd always get them in the end. "And I never stop. You won't see me coming and you won't feel a thing."
Jim shifted his stance. Growing more uncomfortable by the second.
He didn't know much about the time Bird had spent working beside Victor Zsasz under Falcone, she never talked about it.
But he knew at on point she didn't like him, that they'd nearly killed each other in a fight when he'd been sent to bring her to Falcone.
Then next think he'd knew, Bird was referring to the him as a friend.
Out of everyone, when she knew she was in danger and Tetch was going to take her - she'd called Victor for help.
A move that ended up saving the day and all of their lives, but still a move that still didn't sit right with Jim.
"If we don't get a chance to talk before that…it's been really nice knowing you." Victor said earnestly, "You're a good egg."
Jim pulled in a deep breath. Stayed silent until Victor had walked past him out of the room, but he didn't let him get far before he questioned, "Does Bird know about this?"
"I don't know." Victor turned back to face him, "She's been dodging Don Falcone's calls. And ever since she left the lawyer's house -I have no idea where she went."
Jim's brows lowered, "Lawyer's house…"
"You know-" Victor egged on, holding an arm up in the air to signal the person they were talking about was several inches taller than they were, "Tall guy; short fuse. Works for the DA's office?"
"Dent?"
He knew he'd said the name out loud but it didn't feel like he had.
There was a feeling a shock and numbness starting to set in.
"Bingo!" Zsasz loudly exclaimed when Jim guessed right.
Jim seemed stuck, frozen in time. Motionless on the outside but clearly something was brewing under the surface.
"Oh…" Zsasz stared at him, a smirk tugged at his mouth, "You didn't know?"
"I…" Jim cleared his throat, shook his head. Trying to recover -or at the very least not show he was as rattled by the news as he was.
Victor's eyes cast up towards the ceiling as he voiced his thoughts out loud.
"I thought at first she might end up back on the drugs and-" Victor mimicked tossing back a drink, "Let's be honest. She used to be a mess."
Holding his hands up as sides of a scale he considered, "Drugs and booze… abusive ex."
He moved his hands, trying to weigh which was worse. "We've all got our bad habits, I guess."
The color drained from Jim's face.
Victor bit back a laugh.
He'd come there to toy with him a bit -but to also give him fair warning that his time was running out.
He hadn't quite expected to throw him so far off.
"Come on!" Victor slapped Jim's arm and the detective seemed to almost jump out of his skin, "You knew that about that at least, right?"
Jim didn't answer. He couldn't bring himself too.
Bird had told him on multiple occasion that when she was Harvey Dent that things were either really good or really bad.
He'd pried, asked her just how bad things had gotten -but she'd never give him a straight answer.
Maybe he'd even like to plead ignorance, but deep down he'd known.
Trying to ignore the ache in his chest, Jim cleared his throat again and pointed out, "Carmine has to know that if he tries to send you to kill me, that Bird's going to-"
"Honestly, Jim?" Victor's hairless brows raised, his forehead wrinkled with the expression, "Do you even know her?"
"Yes." Jim asserted without missing a beat, "I know her."
"Then maybe you shouldn't have killed her brother." He loudly whispered with a hand to the side of his mouth as if her were spilling a secret, "Still, nice shot with Mario though. I never liked him."
•••
Rinsing the last of the toothpaste out of her mouth, Bird looked up at the dingy mirror above the rusted sink and dropped the handle of her toothbrush back into the cup on the edge of the sink.
She scowled at her reflection.
It had been a week since Mario's funeral.
A full seven days since she'd last seen or spoke to Jim.
She guessed in that time she'd only managed to catch a handful of hours of sleep.
After she'd left Jim in the ally outside of the GCPD station, she'd gotten back in her car and drove directly back to Harvey's house.
But rather than going in, she sat out in her car for what felt like hours before she finally left.
It had felt like a win.
One bad habit dropped.
That was until she stopped by a liquor store.
She knew she couldn't get through what she was feeling alone.
And getting pass-out drunk sounded like the better alternative.
With as low as she'd been feeling, she knew if she went back to see Harvey she'd do something -well, they'd do something she end up regretting because she wanted to feel something other than her broken heart.
Only if it was short lived.
As she trekked through the living room, the soles of her socked feet picking up grime from the floor she thought back to when she'd first saw Jim in that house.
The house he'd rented after she'd left Gotham so many months ago now. When he could no longer stand to remain the townhouse without her.
He'd been working as a bounty hunter at the time, rounding up and sometimes killing the Arkham escapees.
Jim had later told her he'd been drunk when he signed the lease for the house.
But he'd needed somewhere to rest his head and the place was cheap and ready to move into with no questions asked once he paid the entire years rent up front.
Another bad decision he had the bottle to thank for.
She remembered Jim barely keeping his head above water while he lived there.
She imagined the same could be said for previous tenants.
The house wasn't a place someone with any other option would end up at.
Then again, she had other options, which beckoned the question of what the Hell was wrong with her.
She'd been asking herself that question since the night she'd stumbled through the door and didn't even get the door shut behind her before she passed out in the recliner chair that didn't work and woke up hours later with no memory of how she'd gotten there.
Apparently the shack of a house was beacon for the lost and hopeless.
Picking the remote up off the worn couch, she flipped the morning news on and sat down in the same clothes she'd been wearing and sleeping in for at least the last three days.
The news was talking about Mayor Cobblepot and the recent polls of Gothamite's approval rating.
She couldn't get her brain to focus on the story, but the bits that came in clearly seemed to show it was a positive rating.
Crime was down. Employment was up and the city was doing better than it had in a while.
The same could not be said for Bird.
Who lazily walked in the kitchen and grabbed up the new box of cereal from the bag of few grocieries she'd left on the kitchen table when she'd made her last outing a few days before.
She cursed under her breath as she realized the bottle of milk was also still in the same bag the box of cereal had been in.
Apparently she hadn't the sense to put it into the fridge.
"Whatever." She grumbled as she threw the entire thing away and broke into the cereal deciding to eat it dry instead.
Setting the box down on the counter, she stared at the cabinet to the right of the sink.
"Time for the most important decision of the day-" Bird said out loud to herself as she opened the cabinet, "Starting the day off with bourbon or coffee?"
A decision that was put on hold when her phone started to ring.
Her eyes cut over to the counter where she'd laid her cellphone to charge.
There were several options of who it could be.
Bruce had tried to call her several times.
And before the debacle the day of Mario's funeral turned into, she'd fully intended on going to see her little brother.
But now she couldn't bring herself to even talk to him or anyone else on the phone.
Jim had called her exactly two times in the past week.
Both times leaving a voicemail of several seconds of silence. He didn't know what to say.
Oswald had left a frantic message in the middle of the night on Tuesday yelling into the phone about seeing his father's ghost.
A nightmare, she'd assumed.
Another downfall of slipping into old habits and isolation meant her own sleep demons had returned.. And violently so, she'd gotten tangled in the sheets one night and flipped out of the bed -smacking her forehead on the corner of the nightstand as she did.
Ivy had called her a couple of times, leaving messages with a whine her voice of how much she missed her and didn't understand why if Jim was the one who killed her brother she was mad at her about it.
Bird wasn't currently upset with Ivy for any reason, but the redhead didn't see it that way and assumed if Bird was dodging her calls that it must mean she she was angry with her about something,
Falcone had tried to call her more than once as well.
Of course he never left any messages.
The other possibility was the one she feared every time the phone rang and the singular reason she'd been keeping it charged up and powered on at all.
Her heart skipped when she saw the caller id.
Opening up the phone she pressed it her ear.
"What's going on?" Bird answered the call.
"Hey." The deep male voice greeted followed by the sound of him taking a drink of his morning coffee, "You were right. Looks like Falcone put Victor Zsasz on the job. He just went into your house."
"Jim-" Bird started, but her P.I. already knew the question, "Left for work already. He's safe. For now at least."
"Zsasz is still in the house though." The investigator added, "I don't know that hell he's doing in there."
"Thank you." Bird sighed, "For now keep a safe distance. If he knows you're following him, he'll kill you. No questions asked."
"Got it, boss."
With that the call ended.
She took a moment to compose herself and then dialed Zsasz's number.
"Gooood morning." He drew out the greeting, "I was just thinking about you."
"We're you now?" Bird chuckled, leaning back against the counter and questioned, "This early in the morning?"
"Well…" Zsasz walked through the living room and parted the blinds, his eyes focusing on the dark car parked across the street, "You've had a guy following all week now."
A wide smile spread over his lips at the sudden silence from Bird's end of the call.
Letting go the slats and letting the blinds snap back into place, he questioned, "Got anything good to eat in here?"
"Wouldn't know." Bird's voice was flat, "Haven't been home in a while."
"And how long are you going to be avoiding Jimbo?" Zsasz questioned, "I know he killed your brother and all, but I thought you'd at least want to say goodbye to him."
"That's why I'm here." He added.
When she didn't say anything, he laughed, "Relax, Bird. If I'd been sent to kill him he'd already be dead. I came here to give him fair warning of the inevitable."
"Sounds like you just missed him-" Bird tried to keep up with the conversation, but her mind was fraying.
"Nope, we had a nice chit-chat earlier today." Victor looked around the room as he settled into a seat on the couch, "I left and waited for him to go to work. Then circled back around to toy with the guy you hired to tail me."
"Victor." Bird's voice came out with a plead, "Has Falcone put a hit on Jim?"
"Negative." He leaned forward, running the finger tips of his leather gloves over the glossy polish on decorative end table.
"But he's going to?" Bird questioned.
"You know how this works. Blood for blood."
"I'm going to see Falcone today." She insisted, "I'll fix this."
"How?" He questioned.
"I don't know yet." She admitted, "But for now just get out of my house and on your way tell my guy he's fired, alright?"
Closing the flip-phone, Bird dropped it on the counter and pulled in a deep breath.
Her question had been answered. Coffee it was.
She needed to be clear and alert.
Needed to be sober even though it was going to hurt.
She made her way back into the bedroom and unzipped the duffel bag of her belongings to find something clean to wear.
It was time to stop wallowing.
Time to take a shower and try to be human again
•••
Lee jumped to her feet when she heard the front door to her house open.
"Hey, sis." Bird greeted as she stepped into view.
"Bird…" Lee shook her head.
Unable to hide the shock on her face.
She'd thought Bird had left Gotham.
Maybe that had made it easier to give the all clear to Falcone for putting out the hit on Jim.
"This is okay, right?" Bird's brows raised as she motioned from the front door to where she was now standing, "I mean, we're family, right?"
Bird held her arms out to the sides and waited on a response.
She was feeling a bit better though she wasn't sure if the shower she'd taken had really sobered her mind up or if it was that she now had a purpose and a mission.
"See." Bird continued, tucking her hair behind her ears, "I was on my way to see Falcone this morning when I got a call from an old friend." Bird's mind went back to the call from Zsasz just several minutes ago, letting her know it was official. Falcone had given him the orders to take Jim down.
"I was on my way to try and convince him to not kill Jim -when Victor told me that Falcone left the decision up to someone else." Bird added.
Lee swallowed.
"Which is strange considering the natural law of how this works is blood for blood. His pound of flesh to take or not… but it seems like you were the deciding vote, Lee." Bird's voice flooded out with a jolt of attitude.
Lee's face twisted. She lowered her head.
She could deny it.
Falcone had assured her he'd be the one to take Jim's life and not her; however he did caution her that it would be a burden they'd both carry.
Maybe it was easier to stomach her decision when she felt like she didn't play a part in it.
"So basically my biological father has decided to side with the wife of his dead son over his living and breathing daughter." Bird's words ripped through her like bullets.
Bird closed her eyes.
That actually came out much harsher than she'd meant to.
After a week alone her people skills clearly rusted.
Tears welled up in Lee's eyes, "Mario was a good man."
"I know." Bird nodded.
"He didn't deserve what happened to him. He didn't deserve to be killed. To be shot dead on his wedding day!" Lee continued.
"I"m not arguing with you." Bird confessed.
"Then why are you here?" Lee's voice cracked again, "To threaten me so I'll call it off? Go ahead. I don't care. I don't have anything left to lose now. So take your shot!"
"That's where you're wrong, Lee." Bird walked up to her, "I'm not here to hurt or threaten you. I'm here to save you."
Lee's forehead lined. Her entire expression twisted up.
"From what?"
"Yourself." Bird simply answered.
"I don't dislike you." Bird started but was cut off when Lee stammered, "I don't dislike you either? I… I don't hold anything that's happened against you."
"Good." Bird managed a smile, "Then call Falcone and tell him to call the hit off."
"I can't do that." Lee argued.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Lee walked across the room and tried to keep her breathing steady.
She felt like she was on verge of tears again, which also felt like it should be impossible considering she didn't think she had any tears left in her to cry.
"Why not?"
Bird's voice was high pitched.
The question came out of her like an teenager who'd just been told they couldn't borrow the car.
"Are you… are you kidding me?" Lee spun back around, tears were already starting to run down her cheeks again, "I hat him. James Gordon deserves to die!"
"Come on, Lee-"
Bird tried to argue.
"I meant what I said that day at the GCPD. He is a virus. Everything he touches dies!"
Lee's voice was shrill and Bird cringed from the sound.
"What happened isn't Jim's fault." Bird stepped forward.
"He didn't have to kill him!" She screamed out the same thing she'd been saying for days on end.
Bird's face flushed. Anger bubbling beneath the surface.
She wanted to scream back at her, tell her that she'd seen the entire thing, that if Jim hadn't taken that shot Mario would have killed her.
Point out that even if Mario didn't carry the Falcone name, he was still a Mafia Don's son -and she couldn't pretend she'd never expected anything bad to happen to them.
But Bird pushed the anger down, because she and death were old friends and she knew how much Lee was hurting.
"I know that right now you think Jim dying is going to make losing Mario hurt less, but it won't, Lee." Bird held her arms out to the sides, "You're not a killer and if you go through with this then you'll never forgive yourself."
"I'm not going to let Jim die." Bird leveled her voice, and took another step forward, "I'm going to do whatever it takes to save him, but I meant what I said about being here to save you too. You think just giving the word to take someone's life is less of a burden to carry than pulling the trigger yourself? It's not."
"I don't care-" Lee tried to stubbornly argue.
Only able to see the world in rage red.
"Maybe not in this moment, but you will." Bird reached out, her hand landing on Lee's arm, "And when the smoke clears you'll hate yourself for it."
Lee looked down to where Bird's hand was on her and then slowly looked back at her face.
"Go to Arkham." Bird suggested, "Meet with Barnes and you'll see exactly how much the virus can change someone and then you'll understand that what Jim killed that day wasn't Mario."
•••
"There she is." Falcone said with a heavy sigh as he looked up to see Bird entering the room, "I'd gone from wondering when to if you'd show your face again."
Bird pulled her coat off, laid it over the back of the nearest chair and awkwardly hung her arms at her side. "I didn't know what to say to you."
He took a drink from his glass of alcohol but didn't say anything.
"Call Victor." Bird instructed, "Tell him to stop hunting Jim."
"And why would I do that?" He questioned, draining the last of the glass and setting the empty cup down on the end table beside his seat.
Bird sat down in the chair she'd draped her jacket over. "Because I'm your daughter." She pointed out, her eyes were dry but full of emotion when she added, "And as your daughter, I'm asking you to not have the man that I love killed."
It didn't feel like she was asking for that much.
"You know, my dear…" He shook his head, "You only want me as a father when it benefits you."
Bird's eyes cut down to the floor.
He was right.
The only times she'd really called on him was when she needed a favor.
"Well, I'm sorry, but not this time." Falcone stood up, "I shouldn't have to explain to you how this works. Gordon killed my son. My family."
"Please." Bird stammered, "Don't do this."
"It's already done." Falcone argued, a look of disgust on his face as he spoke in an over-bearing tone, "I cared for Jim Gordon, truth be told I often thought of him as a son. But he crossed a line. It's the natural law, his life is mine to take."
"Blood for blood." Bird ran hands through her hair, "But Mario was my blood too -and I'm your blood-"
Falcone crossed the room, looking out of the large windows into the perfectly manicured lawn as he listened her to her try and persuade him to not kill Jim.
Bird tried to reason that Mario was infected, but Falcone insisted that carrying a virus or not that Mario was still his son.
She gave him every reason she could think of to stop the hit he'd put out, trying to appeal to both the familial bond they shared and the bigger picture.
But she was wasting her breath.
Bird rubbed her hands over her face and pulled in a deep breath.
A brick wall would have absorbed more of what she was saying than he was.
Her head was pounding, her chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it.
She couldn't breathe.
There was no winning in this situation. No outcome in which she wasn't going to lose someone important to her.
Falcone glanced over his shoulder when Bird finally fell into silence. He caught sight of her with her head in her hands and he wondered if she'd given up -or what ploy she'd try with him next.
He started over towards the open bottle he'd left on the table, intending to have another glass when she said something that brought him to a halt.
"Dad, please don't take him from me."
Falcone turned to face her, face his daughter who'd just called him that for the first time in her life.
"Dad?" He repeated it back to her.
Stared her down and tried to determine how much of this was a manipulation.
Did her callousness have no bounds?
"You know…" He breathed out with a dry laugh, "What I wouldn't have given for you to call me that instead of Don Falcone for all these years." He pointed out, "But you're only doing so now to get your way -and it's not going to work. Not this time."
Bird stood up, silent as she walked over to him.
Faced him with a pleading look on her face.
All but begging him to not put her in this position.
But the expression on his face was stone. He wasn't going to cave.
And damn if he didn't always manage to turn her into someone she didn't like.
Bird looked down at the floor, usually this would be the point where she'd feel like she'd shrunk down.
Where despite everything they'd been through where he was still the Don and she the lowly member of his organization willing to do whatever it took to earn his respect.
When Bird raised her head, her entire posture straightened, the expression on her face was vastly different from the young woman he'd been looking at seconds before who'd been on the verge of tears pleading with him.
What a nightmare she must have been to raise as a teenager, Falcone thought to himself, for the first time he wasn't envious of the Waynes and how they got to watch her grow her up.
"Tell me." Falcone's eyes squinted, "We're you so quick on turn on Thomas and Martha Wayne when you didn't get your way?"
She didn't answer out loud, but in her head she said yes.
It was true too. She'd never coped well with being told no -especially when it was by her father.
"I am sorry that your son is dead." Bird's head cocked ever so slightly to the left, "But Jim is my family now and I won't let you hurt -or take away another thing that I love."
"Lee will be calling you soon, to tell you to call of the hit." She continued, "And I really… really hoped that you'd make the right decision here too-"
"Is that so?" He went from looking angry to appearing almost amused at the sudden shift in her attitude, "You think you can stop this-"
"You are not the Don anymore!" Bird spoke over him -the very same way he'd done to her so many times before.
Gone were the days of her bowing before him. The submissiveness.
"Oswald runs Gotham now." Bird pointed out, "From both sides of the law now that he's mayor. He is my best friend. You're being allowed back in Gotham is a show of respect from him… one that can be withdrew with a single word from me."
Out of the corner of her eye, Bird saw his hand clench into a fist at his side.
Her mind flashed back to the night in Fish's club when he'd struck her so hard across the side of her face it had brought her down.
She shook the hair from her face and stared him down.
One might even say dared him to take a swing; maybe even wanted him too.
"You are out of control." Falcone accused, "You have no idea what you're doing."
Bird laughed.
"I'm in control." She cleared her throat, "Your days of telling me what to do… of me trying to earn the respect of the Don are over. Long gone. You don't' see it, but you're powerless here."
"That-" He abruptly pointed at her, "That loyalty…."
He shook his head, "Why does your sense of that never lie where it should."
"With you?" Bird's voice cracked with another laugh, "Why would it? All you have ever done is try to control me. To make feel indebted to you!"
"When I was with Harvey; you had him beat half to death-" Bird's brows shot up as if to silently say, yeah I'm still mad about that, "And now you've sicced Victor Zsasz on Jim!"
"You're very quick to forget all I've done for you." He reminded her, "You're alive because of me."
Smacking his hand away from where he was still pointing an accusatory finger at her, Bird matched his tone, "And you're alive because of me. How quickly you forget that."
Pulling in a breath, Bird tried to center herself and took a few steps back.
Her expression looked mournful as she said, "Call Victor off and then get out of my city."
There was a finality to her words and she turned to leave.
Falcone watched her.
Maybe he shouldn't have come back to Gotham at all.
He'd left for a reason, partially that he'd been pushed out but he'd also made the decision to leave.
As much as he loved Gotham for all the city was, he knew now more than ever that the sun didn't really shine there.
It wasn't until he'd retired to his estate in Miami that he'd fully realized it.
How every breath he'd taken was sweeter outside of the city.
His every step lighter.
And now the city had claimed the life of his son and his daughter felt just as lost to him.
"If you do this." He called after her, "Choose the man who killed your brother over your family -there is no going back. No more favors. You will be entirely on your own. You walk out of here and there is no turning back."
Bird slowed to a stop, her head dropped forward.
She didn't dare turn around.
Not about to let him see how much this all hurt her.
"I've always been on my own."
Bird flatly said.
•••
Jim glanced over his shoulder with a quick surveillance of his surroundings before he opened the door and quickly ducked inside the house he'd lived in during his stent as a bounty hunter.
It was technically still his, at least until for a few more months until the years rent he paid and the lease he signed would run out.
He'd taken most everything with him to Bird's townhouse, but he'd left a few things behind; some weapons as well.
He'd spent the better part of the morning trying to dodge and escape Victor Zsasz, who was yet again trying to kill him.
He'd made a quick escape from the building where they'd had their most recent shootout, but he figured the assassin wasn't too far behind him, so he was just making a quick stop to grab what he needed and get going again.
Of course they had plenty of weapons stashed at the townhouse, but he wasn't going to lead Zsasz back there, knowing very well he'd destroy the entire house trying to carry out the hit.
Once he shut the door behind him, Jim started to run towards the bedroom but stopped so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.
The coffee table was littered with take out trash. Bottles, containing varying amounts of left over alcohol were there in abundance.
For a brief second he thought he'd imagined cleaning the place up before he moved back in with Bird.
The mess and chaos inside the shabby house was nearly identical to how it had looked when he'd been living there; if you could call it living.
More like barely surviving against his own will.
He took a few more steps inside the house, ears tuned for any sounds or sign of movement.
Jim looked over into the kitchen and saw a purple coffee mug sitting on the counter by the sink.
Bird.
Perhaps he'd known it before he even saw the proof of the cup in her favorite color, before he noticed the open bag of her clothes on the side of the bed.
The shock hadn't even worn out when the heard the door open behind him, autopilot took over an he whirled around, gun drawn and ready to fire.
"Whoa!" Bullock yelled back at him, though he couldn't pretend he was surprised at his partner's jumpiness, "Hello to you too."
Shutting the door behind him, Bullock joked, "You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?"
"How'd you find me?" Jim asked him, lowering the weapon and breathing in a sigh of relief.
"Well…" Bullock started, "I figured Bird's pissed enough you shot her brother and you don't want to tick her off even more by having Zsasz turn the walls of her house to Swiss Cheese trying to get at you."
Jim nodded his head.
"Plus, I thought you might need something with a bit more bite." He handed over one of the two shot guns he'd brought with him.
"Thanks." Jim took the weapon.
He turned and continued on his walk into the bedroom with Bullock tailing him as Jim explained he was just making a quick stop by the house to get more ammo.
Bullock frowned at the state of the place.
He too remembered when Jim had been staying there, mainly around the time Jervis Tetch had planted a suicidal impulse in his head to push him over the edge.
He been under the impression Jim was still living at the townhouse, even with Bird gone, but now he could see he'd been wrong.
It appeared that Jim was back to his old habits again. The place smelled like an old musty bar.
"How long you been back here?" Bullock asked, walking over to the one of the dressers and eyeing a bottle of whiskey sitting next to the lamp on top.
Jim didn't answer, he was knelt down entering the combination to a safe where he kept a gun in the closet.
Bullock picked up a glass from the dresser, give it a quick sniff before he poured himself a drink.
"Not long enough to unpack?" Bullock continued as he saw the open duffel bag on the bed.
Jim frowned when the combination he'd entered on the safe didn't work. He tried it again, slower this time, making sure to stop exactly on the right numbers, only it still didn't unlock.
"Uhhh… Jim?" Bullocks voice rang out, "Something you wanna tell me?"
"What-" Jim started to ask, giving up on the safe and turning back around to see what Bullock was talking about, but stopped when he saw Bullock was holding up a black bra by one of the straps.
"Put it down!" Jim ordered as he went over and snatched it away from him, tossing it onto the bag he'd pulled it out of.
When his partner continued to stare at him with raised brows, Jim sighed, hands on his hips and bending at the middle from exhaustion, "Clearly I've not been staying here… Bird has."
The look on Bullock's face was blank before he cracked a smile and chuckled.
"It's not funny." Jim argued with him.
"Come on." He egged him on, "This whole damn time you've been trying to find here and she's been here. Right under your nose. Living at your house the entire time? Yeah, that's pretty funny."
"Not the whole time." Jim muttered under his breath.
The tidbit of information that Victor Zsasz had shared with him that morning still weighing heavily on his mind. That Bird had originally been staying with Harvey Dent.
"What does that mean?" Bullock asked.
"Nothing." Jim excused.
He started to say they'd been there long enough and should hit the road, but Bullock was already asking, "Why didn't you tell me about Zsasz?"
"It's my business." Jim's eyes traveled around the room again, "My problem. Not yours."
"That's a bit ridiculous. Seeing as how I'm standing next to you most of the time." Bullock pointed out.
It wasn't but an hour or so ago that Zsasz and his accomplices had opened fire one them right after they'd broke up a gathering of Jerome's followers.
Even though he'd been dead for quite some time, the cult of followers he'd gained were still hanging on his every word. Watching every second of news footage he'd been in. Repeating back his every word that had been captured on film.
"Yeah." Jim agreed with a shamefaced smile, "Sorry about that."
Within seconds the panes of frosted glass on the doors were shattered by bullets.
A leather clad arm and gloved hand reached through the wreckage to release the lock.
Both Jim and Bullock dove behind walls for shield from the gunfire.
Zsasz walked inside, took a brief second to look around before opening fire with and assault rifle. Not aiming for any real targets. Just littering the walls with bullet holes.
Drywall dust and bits of plaster made smoke in the air. Splinters of wood were chipped and flying around from the force of the blows.
Fabric of furniture was ruined, stuffing hanging out of cushions like organs spilling from a disemboweled body.
Zsasz smiled widely, turning slowing from side-to-side, emptying out every last bullet in the magazine. Blowing holes through every surface around him. Destroying the entire living room and anything in it.
When the gun was empty, he dropped it to the floor and smiled again at the damage he'd done.
His head stayed in place, but his eyes were alert, darting around and trying to see where the GCPD detectives had gone.
Crossing his arms over his center, he drew both guns from his underarm holsters and started his search of the house. His steps silent.
He found Bullock first.
Took aim at his head and casually asked, "What's up?"
Bullock froze, his neck was tense as he tried to look over his shoulder to where Zsasz was standing.
Cursing under his breath, Bullock laid his weapon down and turned around to fully face him.
He'd came there to help Jim, not give the person hunting him something to use against him.
"Jim!" Zsasz called out in a near singsong tone, "Come out, come out wherever you are."
The house was silent.
Jim closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall he'd tucked himself behind.
He held his breath. There had to be a way out of this, but the second he moved from where he was hiding he'd been seen.
"It's your time to die today." Zsasz continued to taunt him, "Not his." His eyes locked on Bullock.
"Don't listen to him, Jim!" Bullock yelled.
Despite his best efforts to sound strong, his voice shook.
There was always something about Victor Zsasz that deeply unsetteled him -especially when he was staring down the barrel of a gun.
The floor creaked and Victor outstretched his arm on instinct, taking aim at the threat before he even saw who it was. He turned his head to see there was a gun now pointed at him -only it wasn't Jim behind it.
"Hiya." Victor smiled wide, all teeth. Like a shark.
He looked at the gun he'd pointed at Bird and the gun she had pointed at him.
"Hey." Bird returned the greeting. A smile on her lips.
Neither of them lowered their guns.
Bullock leaned more against the side of the the tall dresser he'd previously been crouched beside when trying to hide.
Bird looked over at him, her head cocked to the side and she seemed almost offended that he wasn't relieved to see her, her eyes narrowed, "Smile Bullock. I'm here to save you."
"Yeah?" He scoffed, choking on the breath of air he'd taken in, "That might bring me some comfort if you hadn't tried to kill me before."
Her brows furrowed, "I never tried-"
"You forgetting the time you gave the orders for this psycho-" He nodded towards Zsasz, "To rip a building apart with all of us inside of it?"
Recognition flashed in her eyes.
The time she'd tried to kill Butch for his betrayals of working with Galavan. She'd ended up trapped inside the building with Butch, Jim and Bullock -with Zsasz outside with some others, all heavily armed.
But she'd gone too far back with Butch, had considered him family for so long that she didn't have it in her to pull the trigger.
So she'd gave the orders for Zsasz to take the building and everyone inside of it to make sure Butch died, even if she had to go with him.
Bird half-smiled with a shrug and pointed out,
"I was in a really bad state of mind back then."
Bullock looked around them at the mess she'd been living in, "How's your state of mind now?"
Her eyes narrowed and for a fleeting second he wondered if she'd turn the gun on him,
"Good times." Victor commented on the trip down memory lane
Jim moved, craned his neck and looked around the corner to see the standoff.
Bullock rendered unarmed, Zsasz pointing a gun at both Bullock and Bird, and Bird with her weapon pointed back at him.
This entire thing was madness, he thought, all of this destruction and endangering of lives because someone was after him.
With a breath, Jim stepped out into view.
The gun Bullock had given him still in hand, but lowered at his side.
"Now you show yourself?" Zsasz complained.
If only he had a third arm and gun to take the kill shot.
But now they truly were at an impasse, if he moved and tried to shoot his intended target then he had no doubt in his mind that Bird would shoot him.
He didn't think she'd kill him, but she'd do enough damage to bring him down and it would hurt like hell.
"If I could just speak with Carmine-" Jim started to explain.
Somewhere inside of him he still believed he could justify what he'd done.
That if he could just explain everything this would be solved.
"Falcone is leaving Gotham." Bird's line of sight cut over to him for a moment before she had to look away again, focused back on Zsasz, "After he calls off the hit of course."
"Hmm?" Victor hummed with raised hairless brows, "I'll believe that when it comes from Don Falcone."
Trying to buy time, stall the situation without it escalating any further, without having to hurt a friend or have anyone she cared about wind up hurt, Bird asked, "Why are you doing this for him anyways? You've been working for Oswald."
"Not exclusively" Victor answered, before eyeing her with a knowing look and adding, if for no other reason than to get under her skin, "I like Penguin, but he's not a Falcone."
"I'm a Falcone." Bird tried, "So listen to me and put the guns down?"
"Nice try." Victor could have laughed, "But if you wanted to give the orders than you should have taken over the city -not handed it to Penguin."
Bullock glanced over at Jim with a questioning look on his face.
Only in Gotham could people have a casual conversation while pointing at guns at one another.
Jim gave a small shake of his head in response.
He wasn't sure what was going on either, but if Bird was telling the truth about Falcone calling off the hit then she was probably trying to buy them some time.
"I didn't want the city." Bird reminded him.
Her jaw tensed.
"That's right!" Victor loudly agreed, "You wanted your lawyer."
He looked over at Jim with a wink before directing his attention back to Bird, "How'd that work out for you?"
She swallowed, felt her cheeks start to heat up.
"I will shoot you." Her tone had gone dry.
All traces of her formerly amused expression were long gone.
"And I'll shoot back." He answered, readjusting his grip on the handgun to fire at her if need be.
Bullock looked around the room.
"What the hell is going on?"
"That's what I was about to ask."
Falcone agreed, now standing in the doorway of the house to see Victor pointing guns at the two people in the room he hadn't been given the orders to end.
"Ran into some trouble-" Zsasz started to explain, but Falcone cut him off.
"Relax, Zsasz." He walked further into the house, "Job's been canceled.
When he lowered guns, Falcone added, "You can go home."
"Okay, boss." Zsasz smiled, returned his guns to their holster and left.
Bird laid the gun in her hand down on the nearest table and avoided Jim's eyes as he walked closer to where she was.
"I'm sorry."
He earnestly said as he looked between Bird and Falcone.
It wasn't enough and Jim knew that, but what else could he possibly say?
"If it was up to me, you'd be dead." Falcone callously said as he stared Jim down.
He paused to look once more at his daughter who stared emotionless back at him before he left.
Bullock watched the former Mafia boss leave, he was dressed in a long over coat and bowler hat, he thought back to what Bird had said.
He was first to break the silence of the house as he questioned, "He's really leaving Gotham?"
"Yes." Bird answered, pulling her eyes away from the open door her biological father's imposing frame had just left through, "There's nothing left here for him. Not anymore."
Bullock picked the glass back up from the dresser and downed the drink he'd poured himself before the standoff.
He just needed a little something to edge the edge off. To stop his hands from shaking.
He let out a breath, cringing as it liquor burnt on it's way down.
It took him a few seconds to realize all eyes in the room were now on him.
Jim broke eye contact to look at the door and then back to Bullock.
"Oh!" He realized he'd just went from being a hostage to the 3rd wheel in a matter of moments, "Right, I'll just…" He awkwardly stammered motioning towards the door as he went.
Only pausing long enough to offer up a nod of thanks to Bird before he left.
Bird stood in place, starting at the still open door leading outside.
The escape; and Jim wondered if she was going to sprint for it.
"What happened between you and Falcone?"
Jim quietly asked.
Picking the gun back up from the table, Bird put the safety on and brushed past Jim on her way to where she'd left her duffel bag.
"I, uh…" She finally answered once her back to him once again, "I chose you."
Jim's brows lowered as he watched her.
Clearly she wasn't telling him the entire story.
"So he's just leaving?"
He tried to get her to open up more. To talk to him.
Though at the moment he'd had settled for her at least looking at him.
"He didn't have a choice, Jim." Bird admitted as she started to drop the gun into her bag, but paused and looked over her shoulder at him with a questioning look when she saw one of her bras was laying on top of the bag.
She knew for a fact she'd packed up all of her clothes before leaving that morning. Nothing should have been out of the bag.
"Bullock-" Jim started to explain, but Bird help up her hand to silence him and turned back to her bag.
"Thank you."
Jim walked closer.
She started to zip up the bag but then stopped and turned around to face him.
"You thought I'd let them kill you?" She questioned.
"No." His eyes roamed over her face, "But I didn't know were you were or how much of it you even knew…"
"I knew more than you." Bird pointed out, "Like how Falcone sent Victor after you on Lee's orders. He'd left your fate up to her."
The words hit him bluntly.
The end of a baseball bat to the stomach.
Her eyes cast down to the floor.
She'd said it hurt him, but the intent behind it didn't make the statement any less true.
"I took care of it." Bird added as her eyes slammed shut.
If she'd had -had a bat she'd probably have whacked herself over the head with it.
She didn't want to hurt him; which a part of her hated herself for because he'd hurt her so badly.
"What-" Jim moved closer, "What does that mean?"
"Jesus!" Bird exclaimed, her face twisting up when she looked up at him, "I didn't kill her if that's what you're asking. She's been through enough, I'm not a monster-"
"I never said that!" He was quick to defend with another step closer, "I never thought that, I-"
She backed away.
"Tell me something then." Her eyes locked with his, "Why is that when you take someone's life to save someone else -everything should be forgiven? But… me?" She tossed her arms out to the sides, "I do the very same thing and you tell me it's wrong?"
She watched as his blue eyes squinted for a fleeting moment before widening.
This wasn't just about Mario.
The last conversation, more so a fight, they'd had was because she'd killed a man who'd been abusing his wife and daughter.
She'd been so adamant that she'd done so to save their lives.
That she made the decision to save them.
Jim's knee jerk reaction was to defend what he'd done.
That it had been a legit kill.
A split second decision he'd made to save a life in danger.
But he didn't say anything.
He didn't point out that there really is a difference between using such measures in the heat of the moment versus how she'd spent time planning to murder someone and followed through with it.
That he'd went to the cabin solely to save a life -not take one, and he'd give anything to go back and get there early enough that they could have brought Mario in and held him until a cure was found.
But he didn't.
The truth was that he didn't really have a leg to stand on the argument and she was too hurt to hear him if he'd tried.
"No answer?" Bird jeered at his silence.
Jerking open the closet door, she knelt down and opened the safe.
Jim shook his head, "You changed my combination."
"Look at where this house is." She gathered the belongings she'd stashed in the small safe, closed the door and stood back up, "I couldn't leave important things just lying around."
Looking back to the once again sealed box that still held some of his own stuff in there, he questioned, "What'd you change it to?"
"Birthday."
"Yours?" He asked.
"Yours." Bird admitted as she got to work shoving the last of her things into the bag.
Jim pulled in a breath.
Of course it was.
He could have spent months trying to crack the code and never once tried his own birthday.
Bird had done that purpose, he was sure of it.
Just like she'd been hiding out in his house.
Right under his nose and the last place he'd think to look.
Sometimes she was nothing if not difficult.
From where he was standing he could see over her shoulder.
The array of items she's locked away in the safe was a puzzle.
He saw the box containing the gun Oswald had given her, that wasn't surprising.
It had quickly become of her most prized possessions.
There was a small globe, the scene inside was the Gotham City skyline -but instead of snow floating around in the liquid, it was glitter.
She'd always had such an attraction to shiny things.
Jim had never seen the knick-knack before and had no idea when she'd picked it up or why she was locking it away in the safe like a valuable.
You could buy those in mass quantity from any of the downtown gift shops.
If they were on better terms he'd have asked when she got it, but he didn't.
They had far more important things to talk about and he knew how temperamental she could be when it came to the strange items she managed to acquire.
Any comment on them, even from just a curious standpoint sounded like a judgment to her and she'd snap back without hesitation.
So he bit his tongue, he wasn't going too comment on any of it.
That was until he quickly recognized something else.
A rabbits foot.
"Is that mine?" Jim asked her.
"It's mine." She answered a little too quickly as she zipped her bag shut.
It wasn't.
She'd taken it from the box of Jim's belongings he'd went looking for after Tetch had dosed them.
When he'd hallucinated his father and remembered the signet ring that had been passed onto him.
He'd finally found the ring in a box of once important but now long forgotten items.
Jim had told her he had no idea why he'd held onto that rabbits foot key-chain for all these years. That at some point it must have been important to him, but he couldn't even remember when or where he'd gotten it.
It was less than a week later, after her returned to the GCPD that Bird went through the wooden box and took the cheaply made key-chain for herself.
A part of her had thought it was sad, that this item had once clearly been valuable to him but now didn't seem to mean anything.
So she took it, her new-found fondness and attachment to it made it important once again and she'd kept it close ever since.
Bird slung the bag over her shoulder and tried to leave.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
Sounding like the air had been knocked out of him.
Was she going to disappear once again?
She always seemed to be running from something.
"Bird." He caught her hand as she tried to walk past him.
Not rough. Not a tight enough grip to actually keep her from going; just enough to get her to pause, "Please don't leave."
Her knees locked, she almost toppled over, coming to a much more abrupt stop than she'd intended to.
She remembered one of the last times they'd been in this same house together.
How she was trying so hard to keep him from drowning, how he was too stubborn to admit he needed help.
The ultimatum she'd given him, to either admit he wasn't okay and let her help -or she was gone.
That she loved him but wouldn't stick around to watch him kill himself.
The memory felt so distant and so near all at once.
"I have to." Bird argued, but there wasn't a fight in her tone.
She sounded more sad than anything. As if she had no choice in the matter.
"You don't." Jim promised, his eyes falling to where he still had her hand in his, waiting for her to pull away, "We've got to work this out. I haven't seen you in over a week. We need to talk about-"
"I need time." She said over the end of his sentence.
Jim swallowed hard, everything inside him wanted to protest her leaving again, but he knew what he'd taken form her. How badly he'd hurt her.
If she needed time away than that's what he'd give her.
"I understand." He cleared his throat, his voice had gone a little hoarse, "You can go home. I'll get my things from the house-"
"No." Bird eventually looked back at his face, "I don't want to be there. Not without you -and I can't be there with you. So the only thing that makes sense is for you to stay and I'll go."
"For how long?"
He asked in a whisper.
It wasn't a fair question, but he asked it anyway.
She didn't have a concrete answer to give him.
He felt her hand move, start to slide from his grip and his head dropped forward.
He hated this, hated knowing he couldn't say or do anything to fix the damage he'd done.
But instead of pulling away, she'd readjusted her hand, intertwined her fingers with his.
His head raised up, looking at her both shocked and in question.
Bird could see him out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't turn to face him -she couldn't.
She knew if she did that she wouldn't be able to say what she needed too.
"I'm mad at you. So mad." She breathed out with a small shake of the head, "And every time I look at you all I can think of is how you killed Mario. I look at you and… I see my brother's dead body."
He ran his tongue over his lips.
Nothing could be said to fix that.
Without a time machine the trauma caused couldn't be undone.
"And I feel…" Bird struggled to put what she felt into words, "Like I'm so angry… that, that… I don't know? So pissed off that I could explode from it. And that makes me dangerous, Jim."
She glanced down, feeling his grip tighten some on her hand, like there was some way to anchor her there.
God, she missed him.
Missed him so bad that it hurt. Maybe that was why she'd ended up in this house. A way to feel closer to him still.
Her eyes closed, so tightly it took a second to regain her vision when she opened them again.
"Bird?"
He was still having trouble getting his voice above a whisper now.
Sounding every bit as defeated as he felt.
"It makes me dangerous." Bird repeated, finding the strength to look at him again.
Immediately wishing she hadn't.
He was in pain.
He needed her forgiveness -and that was something she couldn't offer.
At least not right now.
Not yet.
He was going to have to live, suffering the consequences of his actions -just like she was.
"And if it were anyone else, I'd be a risk to them." She admitted.
"But it's you-" Her voice cracked and when her eyes met his, he could see she was a loss; she was lost, "And I don't want to hurt you… which makes me a threat to myself."
•••
A/N - Thank you all for reading. I hope you liked the chapter. ^_^
Thank you to: ThatMysteriousSlime, Shadow knight1121, aleksitupper19, Raging Raven, Adela, Brooke, Katniss789, SmellYourScentForMiles, DancingDorsDay, rkooks, and to the Guests who reviewed the last chapter.
I appreciate the support and feedback more than you'll ever know!
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!