We Were Born Sick • Gotham Fanfiction •

XXIX: Slow Dancing with the Devil

"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown." - H. P. Lovecraft

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Oswald quietly shut the door to Bird's apartment behind him, it was a little after two in the morning and he'd spent the last few hours tossing and turning in his bed, unsuccessfully trying to chase down the sleep he needed –only for it to continue to evade him.

There was a sick feeling in his stomach that had been residing there since the day when Bird had left him standing amongst the state of ruin Fish's club had been left in.
He'd since come to realize that the nausea was a physical manifestation of an emotion he wasn't used to feeling –that emotion was guilt.
It hurt him to see Bird in pain from losing Liza, and he'd lashed at her when she didn't deserve it during a time when she'd needed him to step up and be her best friend and instead he'd selfishly turned the situation around to tell her if she hadn't tried to make new friends that she wouldn't have to be feeling the pain she was in.

Even with the element of guilt, he was still angry with Bird for feeling the need to bring new people into her life. He couldn't understand it. For years they'd stuck together, a rather fitting expression would be that they were thick as thieves. And though, he didn't like seeing her in pain –he also couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that with Liza's death, Bird now had one less friend. One less person he'd have to share her time and affections with.

In the moonlight lit room, he saw some empty glass bottles scattered around and the room was badly in need of being tidied up.

When he stepped on something soft he looked down to see Bird's favorite leather jacket lying on the floor next to one of her chairs. Oswald picked the jacket up and dusted it off before neatly folding and draping it over the back of the high back chair; gently trailing his fingers over the fabric as he walked past the chair towards her room.

His footsteps sounded louder than usual on the wooden floorboards as he quietly pushed the door open to find her lying asleep on her usual side of the bed –dressed in what he recalled was the same dress she'd been wearing the last time he saw her.

Like opposite ends of magnets attracting, he felt a pull to go closer to her and so he did. Right up to the side of the bed as he stared down at her, she was sound asleep but the look on her face was anything but peaceful. She looked like she was being tormented, and knowing her history with nightmares, he considered she very well might currently be haunted by the thoughts in the darkest corners of her mind.

Before he'd been able to stop himself, he reached out and trailed his fingers over the bare skin of her shoulder and down her arm. His heart picked up speed with every passing second, her flesh felt softer than silk under his touch and he'd have sworn she was made of something far more than just human –both inside and out.

Unable to pull his hand away, he ran his fingers back up her arm to her shoulder, where his touch lingered before continuing on their journey across her collarbone towards her chest –until she made a small noise and turned from her side onto her back.

He stayed perfectly still, no longer even breathing for fear it might stir her from her slumber.

Oswald remained like that for what felt like at least three minutes, before he finally let out the breath that had been trapped deep in his lungs. He continued to stare down at her, observing that the expression on her face seemed more content than when he'd first found her. A small smile graced his lips as he considered the possibility that maybe somehow she knew he was there and that his presence was enough to make her feel at ease.