We Were Born Sick • Gotham Fanfiction •

III: Broken Wings

"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.