We Were Born Sick • Gotham Fanfiction •

XXXVIII: The Coldest Night

"All the most powerful emotions come from chaos -fear, anger, love- especially love. Love is chaos itself. Think about it! Love makes no sense. It shakes you up and spins you around. And then, eventually , it falls apart."― Kirsten Miller, The Eternal Ones

~()~

"Bird?" Oswald asked in a whisper as he took a few slow steps into the hospital room with his eyes locked on his best friend, who was sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed.

When she raised her head and looked at him, he could see tear steaks down her face and her eyes looked painfully red.

"Look." She breathed, nodding to the bed where her boyfriend was lying, "Just look what Falcone had done to him."

Oswald's eyes slowly moved from Bird, over to the bed where Harvey Dent was laying with his face badly beaten.

Slowly he walked into the room further, clearing his throat he stuttered out, "Is h-he going to make a full recovery?"

Letting go of Harvey's hand that she'd been sitting there holding, she stood up, walking towards Oswald, she said, "From what they've told me, yes."

"Then all is well?" He asked in a hopeful voice, knowing that Bird was prone to react out of emotion and if she made a move against the Don before time was right then it would put everything he'd worked for in jeopardy.

"No, Oswald!" Bird hissed in a whisper, "All is not well, just look at him! He's black and blue from head to toe. He's got a level two concussion and was so agitated that they had to sedate him before I ever got here. He hasn't woke up yet."

Looking down her chin quivered as she continued, "They thought he might have had a couple broken ribs, but luckily they're just badly bruised." Scoffing at her own words, she rolled her eyes, "Lucky? What am I saying... those take more than a month to heal up and it's painful. But it beats broken ribs and a punctured lung."

"The important thing is that he will recover." Oswald reminded her. Though in truth, he wished Falcone had just had his men kill Harvey Dent. Then one of his problems would be solved and he, himself, wouldn't be at fault.

Oswald was sure that if Harvey was no longer in the picture, things between himself and Bird would go back to how it used to be.

Slowly he stepped forward and in a rare moment of bravery when it came to his interactions with her; he hugged her.

Tears welled back up in her eyes as she held onto him and returned the embrace. Stepping back; she questioned, "What are you doing here?"

"I came for you." He admitted, glancing to the bed where Harvey still appeared to be asleep and lowered his voice,"For your sake –to talk you down from doing something that could result in you ending up in worse shape than Harvey Dent."

"Doing something like kill Falcone?" Bird asked, her jaw tensed, "Torture isn't even a fitting word for what I'm going to do to him."

His eyebrows raised, remembering a time when Fish Mooney had said nearly the same thing to him. "Y-you sound like Fish." He pointed out.

"No." Bird said with a low laugh, "Fish didn't have it in her to kill the old man. But me? I'm going to make him wish he was dead."

He could have sworn her brown eyes turned to black as she hissed through her teeth, "Falcone wants some heartless, skilled killer? Then that's what he'll get. He'll see just how heartless I can be. I swear to god, I'm going to make him pay for this..."

"Bird, no." Oswald argued, shaking his head frantically from side to side, "You're not thinking clearly... you see, this why I'm here –to prevent you from going on a suicide mission."