Born to Fly

Without a Burn - ✔

When I come to again, Butch and Oswald return from— I don't even want to know. The henchmen behind them carry armloads of equipment.

"Is this enough to keep her alive?"

Dr. Thompkins organizes the morgue space. "I think so."

"I'll make sure no one gets through the front. Everyone out. Let's get stationed around the building." I see Butch's thick frame through the translucent window.

His boss is astonished that he'd take this initiative. Oswald's pleasantly surprised, though. For he makes an attempt to hide his smile in his sleeve.

"How long is this going to take?" Jim asks his girlfriend.

"There's no telling. I can't believe she's even conscious. Sera, I'm going to put you under, okay? Give it a few minutes to kick in."

Life— my life feels like it's slipping through the cracks. How much longer until I give in? The amount of pain radiating from my arms is too much to put into words. Occasionally, an audible groan or moan fills the silent room and everyone's reminded of my condition. For the most part, I keep it to myself. It eats away at parts of myself I didn't even know were there.

Lee's hands are steady as she inserts the syringe into my IV. Jim watches carefully from above my head. His blue eyes pierce the darkness to find her comfort. There's no other way a woman wants to be looked at.

Yet, as I would say that my brother has the best gaze, it has nothing in comparison to the last pair of eyes. I can't compete with his ever-seeking eyes. When I do manage to take another peek at him, he's watching Lee work. He doesn't move, unlike my anxious brother. No, he stands like a statue.

The medicine pollutes my thoughts. I can't make sense of the things so concrete. I outstretch my mutilated hands to the darkness. As I do, all three rush to place them back where they were. My last glimpse is of Lee putting a surgical mask on.

"You two might want to leave for this."

"Not a chance."

"Yeah," Jim echoes. "Not happening."

I dream of fond memories of my mother and father. Upon waking up, I realize how far away I am from them. The pain is bad but tolerable. My hands are wrapped in delicate bandages. I'm covered head-to-toe in electric blankets. She's re-inserted gauze into my mouth and stitched up the gaps in my gums.

"Hi," a voice from above my head says. It's him, the holder of my heart. Oswald pushes my hair back in order to see me better. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm—"

"I can't get in touch with Falcone," Harvey bursts through the door. "I've been trying to reach with all the resources we have. No one's heard anything from him."

My brother rises from his seat. "Then let's go find him."

Oswald scoffs. "You're not going to find him anywhere special because he's not changing anything! He's continuing business as usual until this all blows over."

"Then why can't I get in touch with him, genius?"

"When have you ever been able to talk to Falcone when he's working?"

"Never."

If it were me, he'd answer. He likes me. A smirk pulls on my cracked lips.

"Maroni did this," Jim says. "Falcone's a bad guy, but he's the best bad guy we've got right now."

Cobblepot glares at him, and he is happy to return it.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm on your side, Penguin."