"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."― Lemony Snicket

•••

Jim leaned forward, letting his tired eyes adjust to the red and blue flashing lights of patrol cars outside of the twenty-four hour corner store.

When his phone had started to ring at nearly three in the morning, he'd never expected it to be Alfred Pennyworth calling him.

But the sound of the butler's voice had woken him quickly with his mind immediately going to worst case scenarios of something having happened to Bruce Wayne.

Luckily, that wasn't the case.
The youngest Wayne sibling was fine –but the same couldn't be said for the eldest.

Pulling his car to a stop, he got out just in time to see a highly intoxicated Bird hurl an object out of her shopping cart towards the two uniformed officers wasting time trying to reason with her.

The scene in front of him would have been utter chaos to the fully awake mind, but he was so tired he felt like he could barely even stand and he slowed to stop with his mouth dumbly hanging open.

The officers were yelling at Bird, who was using a shopping cart to stay standing and throwing anything she could get her hands on at them –while Alfred stood off to the side warning the police that they better not lay a finger on her.

Pulling in a breath of the stale tasting night air, Jim took a moment to rub his temples and try and prepare for what he was about to walk into.
Just as he opened his eyes he caught sight of Bruce sitting in the car near where Alfred was standing.

There was a look of fear on his boyish features as he all but had his face smashed against the window.

It was then that he got a second wind of energy –born from the anger bubbling inside of him. It was just around twelve hours earlier that Bruce had called him because Bird had abducted two men she'd sworn had been following her.

This was the second time within a twenty-four hour period that she'd terrified her little brother.

His pace quickened as he started for the sidewalk, pulling his badge when he didn't recognize the uniformed officers. Displaying his credentials Jim told them he had it under control and they needed to take off.

"Yeah, that's right!" Bird happily shouted at seeing the officers getting into their car to leave, "Show 'em who's boss, Jim!"

"Lady Wayne!" Alfred scolded her.

"Oh, shut up, Alfred!" She yelled back at him, as she threw her hand up and waved at Jim.

Pulling in a deep breath, he gave a half-attempt to wave back at her as he stood in place and watched her stumble over to a close by bench to sit down. Only she missed the edge and landed with a thud on her butt in the mulch of a small flowerbed.

"I'm okay!" She yelled out, but she was far too off balance to try and stand up, so she scooted back against the side of the bench to rest her head against it.

Hearing a car door open, Alfred pointed a finger at Bruce when he stepped out onto the pavement. He'd been told repeatedly to stay in the car.

"What's going on?" Jim asked, walking up to where Alfred was standing with Bruce now at his side.

"Well, I'd say she's off the wagon, wouldn't you?" Alfred pointed out in a no-nonsense tone, glancing back over to where Bird was still sitting amongst the flowers and mulch.

When Jim shot him an unamused expression, Bruce knew he wanted an actual explanation of how they'd all gotten to this point in time.

"Starling called me." Bruce spoke up, "She said she was at the store and needed to borrow money, that she'd lost her purse."

"Was she like this when you got here?" Jim asked them.

Bruce nodded and Alfred let out a sigh of an apology, "Sorry to drag you out of bed at this hour, but I didn't know who else to call."

Jim slowly nodded, "Has anyone called Dent?"

"Master Bruce, here, tried to." Alfred explained, "That was until Lady Wayne wrestled his phone away and broke the bloody thing in half."

Reaching into his coat pocket, Bruce pulled out the broken mess of a flip-phone he'd been left with and showed it to Jim.

"Damn it..." Jim mumbled under his breath, "I really thought she was past all of this."

"Master Bruce, you don't want to catch a cold. Best you go wait in the car with the heat on." Alfred instructed.

Bruce opened his mouth to argue that it wasn't even that cold out and he was wearing a coat, but then he stopped.
It was clear whatever they were going to speak of next wasn't meant for his ears and usually he'd fight them on it.
He didn't view himself as a child and Bird was his sister after all, but with everything he'd seen that day all he did was nod and return to the safety and warmth of the car.

"That would be when and why I called you." Alfred nodded back to where Bruce was getting into the car, "I have to get Master Bruce home and she's still upset with me over the business with her mum. Even full of alcohol she'll act out to just to spite me-"

"Her mom?" Jim caught.

"Yes." Alfred replied before slowly realizing, "Oh, you don't know?"

"I guess not." Jim answered, motioning with a hand for him to keep talking.

"I'd have thought she'd have already told you." He admitted, knowing that while Bird was in Arkham the only visitor she seemed to actually want to see was Jim Gordon and he was also aware of just how frequently the detective had been there.
He'd just assumed they'd stayed close after she'd been released.

"Her mother. Her birthmother has recently come back into the picture." Alfred told him, "Needless to say, she's having a rough go of it and I..." He cleared his throat, "Truth be told, I'm worried about her."

"Yeah, you're not the only one." Jim agreed, rubbing his hands over his face and letting out a sigh, "Get Bruce back home. I'll get her sobered up, keep an eye on her."

"You make sure to do just that." Alfred added with a stern look, letting him know that he was trusting him to get her off the street and somewhere safe to dry out until she was back in her right mind.

Jim gave a single nod and then watched as Alfred got into the car with Bruce and they drove away.

"Come on." Jim said as he walked up to where Bird was sitting on the ground, her fingers now stained from dirt as she'd been pulling up the plants and burying small pebbles in the dirt, "Let's get you out of here."

"Jim." Bird greeted as she looked at him with eyes that couldn't quite focus, "My purse-"

"I know, it's gone." He nodded, "You don't need it right now."

"At first I was worried someone might steal my identity." She admitted with a groan as Jim started to pull her up to her feet. "But who the hell would want to be me?" She added with a painfully loud laugh right in his ear as she clutched onto him to keep from falling back down.

Carefully taking a step back, he checked to see if she was laughing or crying. It was nearly impossible to discern the difference from the noises she was making.

"Hey, hey..." She slurred, patting the center of his chest and then leaving traces of dirt on his shirt as she gripped tightly onto the fabric and whispered-yelled right in his face, "Help me find my keys."

Turning his face to try and avoid the strong stench alcohol on her breath, he said, "You don't need them. I'll drive you-"

"Can I tell you a secret?" She questioned with a suddenly serious look on her face.
Without giving him time to respond, she leaned in so far that her lips were against his ear as she admitted, "I think I buried them with the flowers."

"We need to find a shovel." It was then that she spotted a guy walking towards them with a small tan dog on a leash, Bird called out, "Hey! Do you have a shovel?"

Not giving a verbal answer, the man shook his head back and forth, keeping an eye Bird and Jim as he let the extendable leash out some to let his dog have more room.

"We'll find them tomorrow, okay?" Jim said, trying to guide her over to where he'd parked, "I'm going to give you a lift, remember?"

"Ooh!" She breathed, nodding frantically and was about to go with him until she saw something move out of the corner of her eye and looked down to see the small dog sniff one of the still planted flowers before it raised it's leg and started to pee on the plant.

With a loud, dramatic gasp, Bird lunged forward shouting, "That bastard!"

Quickly curling an arm around her to hold her back from getting to the man and or his dog. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to pull her away from the flowerbed, but she firmly planted her feet against the sidewalk and wouldn't budge.

"Bird..." He sighed in frustration. Leaning forward he saw she was staring with an unwavering intensity at the flowerbed where the dog had peed and where she was sure she'd buried her keys for some reason.

"Time to go." He wrapped his arms around her midsection and held on snugly, "Come on."

Only instead of being the least bit helpful, Bird stubbornly let her legs go out from underneath her and Jim held on as he slowly lowered her down to the sidewalk demanding to know, "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to go." She shrugged, slouching over as soon as he let go of her, "I like it here."

Taking a step away from her, Jim blew out a breath and shook his head from side to side.

Impossible, he thought, she was absolutely impossible.

Stubborn as hell when she was sober, but trying to get any cooperation out of her while she was drunk was nothing shy of a lost cause.

Flopping down onto her back, Bird stared up to the sky and complained, "It's not dark enough to see the stars."

"Get up." Jim instructed, as he leaned down and hooked his arms under hers to get her in a sitting position and then stood up.
Only once she was on her feet this time; he didn't give her a chance to sabotage things again and moved to where he could get her thrown over his shoulder.

He needed to get her off the street and somewhere safe to eat something and drink something other than the contents on the top shelf behind a bar. She was in no condition to be left on her own.

He'd braced himself for a fight, expected her fists to start pounding on his back and her legs to start flailing.
But instead she went completely limp and just hung there.

Just as he'd maneuvered to get the passenger side door open on his car, he looked up to see a woman out walking her dog had come to a stop to gawk at what was happening.

"This isn't what it looks like." Jim defended, knowing it had to appear the common passerby that he was putting an unconscious woman in his car, "I'm a cop."

Spinning on her heels the woman walked away, muttering under her breath she wasn't going to get involved.

After a slight struggle and strain to get Bird into the seat of the car without hitting her head on anything, Jim stood up and looked to see she was staring at him.

When she'd not helped in the slightest to get into the car, he'd really started to wonder if she'd passed out –but that clearly wasn't the case.
She was just being difficult.

"My bags." Bird said, "From the cart."

Shutting the passenger door, Jim walked over to where the cart was so he could load the bags into his backseat. His annoyance and confusion growing as he saw bag after bag was filled with various toiletry items. Most of them travel sized.

If he had to guess; there was probably at least a hundred travel sized sets of toothpaste and toothbrushes. Bag after bag of little shampoo and conditioner sets and at least fifty small containers of deodorant.

Tossing the last bag into the back floorboard, he shut the door and finally was able to get behind the wheel.

But the relief and calm he finally felt after getting her into the car and driving off was shattered when she started throwing the deodorants out of her open window at every person they passed.

With one hand on the wheel trying to keep the car in the correct lane, Jim was trying to pull a travel sized toothpaste out of her hand. Finally he got it away from her and threw it over into the backseat.

"Stop it!" He yelled at her, when she saw her starting to reach back into another bag.

"I'm helping them, Jim!" She defended, with a roll of the eyes. Spoken as if it was the most common sense answer in the world.

"How?" He nearly laughed, "How is that helping anyone?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she slouched down in the seat and stared out the window.

It was nearly five minutes later when she finally spoke again.

"When I got my license and my parents bought me a car, my mom made up all these little care package things. Soaps and deodorant and that kind of stuff and she'd make me carry them around in my car for when I saw someone in need." Bird said.

"That's actually a good idea." He glanced over at her at her.

"All she ever had was have good ideas." Bird said in an empty tone, "She was this perfect, kind person and I was a spoiled brat."

With lowered brows, she couldn't seem to bring herself to stop talking, "I threw them away, you know? The first chance I got, I'd throw all the care packages away. I mean, I had everything I needed –so why did it matter that someone else didn't?"

"Because everyone has to matter or no one matters!" She shouted, causing him to swerve into the other lane. Once he got the car straightened back out, he looked over at her wondering why she'd just screamed that at him.

When she saw him look at her, Bird simply smiled and calmly said, "You're the one who told me that, remember?"

"How do you do it?" Bird asked when he looked back to the road.

"Do what?"

"Be good." She stated, "It's just effortless for you, isn't it? It was the same for my parents and Bruce too. How?"

"I don't know how to answer that." He admitted, running his tongue over his lips before admitting, "But it seems to me like you put a lot of effort into doing the opposite."

"Ha." Bird snorted, before the smile fell from her lips and turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, "My mother said something like that to me once."

Her head cocked to the side as she thought of how different she turned out from the way her parents had tried to raise her, "I wonder what she'd say if she could see me now? Probably wonder how something like me could have come from her.

Jim looked over at her, thinking that she probably didn't even know he was still in the car with her. She seemed lost in her own head and speaking out loud rather than talking to him.

"Oh, that's right..." Bird grumbled, turning in her seat to stare out the window at the passing city lights, "I guess I really didn't, did I?"

His jaw tensed with his brain was struggling to come up with the right words to say, but he couldn't locate them. Perhaps he was even a bit afraid that if he opened his mouth he might end up saying the wrong thing.

It had been a long day and he'd barely had any sleep and as much as he sympathized with everything she'd gone through, he was also disappointed in her for more reasons than he could count.

Slowing to a stop, he rubbed his eyes and avoided looking at the red glow of the traffic light. His gaze drifted down to the time showing on the clock on the dash.

"Do you want me to call Harvey?" He questioned, knowing she shouldn't be alone but he also knew just how long the next day would be if he didn't get any sleep for the remainder of the night.

"Mine or yours?" Bird questioned, her inebriated mind unable to determine if he was referring to Harvey Dent or Harvey Bullock.

"Yours." Jim tried not to laugh at her question.

He'd only just turned his attention back to the road and started to drive away from the red light when Bird took her engagement ring off and hurled it at the side of this head.

"Hey!" He angrily yelled at her.

With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window.

It wasn't until he passed under a bright streetlight that he looked down in his floorboard and realized exactly what it was that she'd pinged him in the side of the head with.

"Take me home, Jim." Bird called out, still refusing to look back at him.

Jim glanced back down to the diamond ring on the floor of the car and then over to her; wondering exactly what home she was talking about.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he heard her start to laugh. She'd been thinking the same thing and it had suddenly dawned on her that she didn't have her apartment anymore, she didn't have a house –she had nowhere to call home.

"I don't have a home." She belted out with another round of laughter.

She turned further away from him in her seat and when he sat her reaching her hand up to her face, he guessed that her fit of laughter had shifted into tears and she didn't want him to see her crying.

•••

It was a few hours later that Jim stepped into the drunk tank at the station where Bird had been slowly starting to sober up.

He came to a stop when he saw her sitting on the built in padded bench with her head leaned back against the wall and her eyes closed.

They'd ended up at the station when he'd realized he really didn't have anywhere else to take her and she'd started to become belligerent when he stopped her from getting out of the car as they passed a park that she suddenly wanted to go for a walk in.

Her emotions had been all over the place from fiery rage, to deeply upset and at times even happy-go-lucky; though the latter moods came few and far between.

He started to quietly walk back out and let her sleep it off, but stopped when he heard her state, "I'm awake."

Jim looked over to see Bird still sitting in the same position with her eyes still closed.

He'd have sworn she was keeping herself awake on purpose. Most anyone else would have fell asleep or have passed out by now, but not Bird. No, it was like she just wanted to be awake to feel every ounce of misery in her life.

"Brought you another water." He said, holding up the bottle he'd just gotten from the vending machine.

"What a gentleman." She sighed, obviously now irritated with him for something.
He couldn't be sure of the exact reason this time. Her anger and annoyance had seemed to fire off at him like a machine gun from nearly the moment she'd spotted him earlier that night.

Not opening up her eyes she held her out her hand and he walked over to hand her the bottle.

"You're welcome." Jim stated with raised brows, as he sat down on the bench beside her.

"I'm not gonna thank you for locking me in a cell." Bird commented, as she opened the bottle and took a small drink.

"You're not locked in." He pointed out, "But I didn't know where else to take you and I wasn't about to leave you alone out on the streets."

"This may come as a shock to you..." Bird slightly slurred as she finally looked at him, "You... hero cop, you..." She jabbed him hard in the arm with one of her fingers and leaned in closer, her eyes having trouble staying open, "I was doing just fine before you walked into my life."

Her brown eyes opened more as she accused, "And you had no reason to bring me here."

"You're drunk." He countered.

"Psh!" She hissed at him, rolling her eyes but quickly closed them when she got dizzy, "I am not. I don't do that anymore. I'm a changed person."

When he didn't verbally respond to her, only arched a brow and gave her a harsh stare, Bird sighed her attempt at a confession, "I only had one drink."

"Of what?" Jim couldn't help but argue with her, "Straight gasoline?"

Turning on the bench some to better face him and make sure he saw, she waited until he faced her before she scowled at him.

Unfazed, he stared back at her and watched as her angry expression slowly faded into something he thought resembled a look of worry –mild fear, even.

"What-" He started to ask, but she took him by complete surprised when she grabbed onto the open front of his jacket and held tight as she leaned forward and smashed her mouth against his.

Her movements were hungry –desperate even, with her fingers clutching onto his coat she leaned in as close as she could get to him.

It took his mind a few seconds to catch up to what was happening and even longer to come to his senses and pull away.

Pulling back, he closed his eyes and breathed, "Bird..."

"What?" She whispered, tilting her head forward to rest her forehead against his.

She opened her eyes, but when she saw his were still closed. She slowly pulled away from him and let go of his coat.

"What's wrong, Jim?" She asked in a matter-of-fact voice, "Don't you want me?"

He looked at her, but didn't answer her question –he couldn't.

Arching a brow, she stated, "Everybody wants me."

Slouching back against the wall, she further explained what had, at first, sounded like a rather conceited statement, "They want to own me or use me or control me. I don't even think Harvey really wanted to be with me anymore –he just didn't want anyone else to have me. It's funny, really, how everyone wants something from me –but no one actually wants all of me."

"Who could blame them, right?" She practically spit, bouncing from sad to mad again, "No one wants all of me and I keep breaking myself into pieces for everyone. But how many breaks until it... until I can't be put back together?"

"You need to understand-" Jim began to mentally gather the list of reasons why he'd stopped the kiss. Intending to firstly remind her that after the last time, they'd both sworn it wouldn't ever happen again, but he didn't get the chance when she cut him off.

"I understand." Her eyes narrowed, "I understand that you never seemed to have a problem with my being a criminal when you needed to use that –use me for something. So I guess that really makes you just like everyone else, doesn't it?"

With that, she scooted down the bench and kicked her legs up beside her to lie down.

"Just get out." She bitterly called out while pinning her eyes shut and refusing to acknowledge his presence for even a second longer.

•••

After going home long enough to shower, change clothes and grab a quick breakfast on his drive there, Jim was headed back into the station for his shift that day.

"Hello, Jim."

Spotting Oswald, Jim walked up to him, "What are you doing here?"

Looking around the police station, Oswald said, "It's good to see you back at work. I'm so happy we could help each other out."

Taking a step closer, Jim lowered his voice, "I collected that debt for you. We're even, so if you're here for-"

"Relax." Oswald smiled holding up a hand to silence the detective, "I've only come to collect something that belongs to me."

"What are you talking about?" Jim questioned, but didn't have to wait long on an answer when Bird walked up to them.

Her hair was disheveled, eyeliner smeared and her clothes wrinkled. She was a mess –but Oswald currently couldn't think of a time when she'd looked more beautiful.

Perhaps it had something to do with the early morning call he'd received from her, saying that she needed him to come pick her up from the police station and the fact that her engagement ring was missing from her finger.
It was just as he'd predicted, she'd come back to him and her relationship with Harvey Dent was a thing of the past.

"Bird." Oswald beamed, "Good morning. I was so pleased when you called."

"Hey." She greeted back, struggling to find a small smile for him through the splitting headache she had under the painfully bright florescent lighting.

"All ready, then?" Oswald asked.

Nodding, Bird started to leave with him –not even glancing in Jim's direction until he stopped her.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" He quietly asked, his hand gently landing on her arm to make sure she wasn't going to walk away from him.

"Jim, my friend..." Oswald said with a tight smile, "My apologies, but I'm afraid Bird and I must be going-"

"What do you want?" She sighed.

Ever since waking up with the feeling of someone operating a jackhammer inside of her skull; bits and pieces of the prior night had started to come back into memory. Like when she'd kissed Jim, after swearing to herself that she wouldn't ever go there again.

"Don't do this." Jim pleaded with an expression falling somewhere between stern and worried, "What are you doing? After everything you're going to walk right back into your old life?"

Her eyes were dull when they finally raised to meet his, she gave a tired shrug, "He's my best friend."

"Then maybe you seriously need to reevaluate your choice in friends." His tongue sharply carved each word and she saw the judgement return to his stare.

"I'm standing right here." Oswald reminded him, but Jim kept his attention steady on Bird as he thought of how Oswald had worded his earlier sentence. That he was there to collect something that belonged to him.

Jim's voice lowered slightly when he asked her, "Remember you said last night? About everyone wanting something from you –or wanting to own you?"

No caring to be reminded of anything from the prior night, Bird's eyes narrowed at him, though he noted they were missing their usual fire.

"Do you really think a couple months of us actually being friends erases the last year?" Bird began without giving him an opportunity to respond she continued, "Or what, huh? That every time you signed your name in the Arkham visitors log that it was chipping away at my memory?"

"What are you talking about-"

"I'm talking about the way you treated me last year, Jim. You'd come crawling to us when you needed a favor –like knowing where Loeb was hiding his secrets or getting enough evidence to put Flass away. But then the minute that you no longer needed someone to dirty their hands for you, you'd climb back up on your pedestal. Always so judgmental, Detective Gordon." Bird stopped to pull in a breath, her thoughts and mouth were moving so fast that she'd nearly choked on her own words.

"We both know it wasn't like it." He defended, his jaw tense and nostrils flared.

Oswald ran his tongue over his lips as he watched the exchange between the pair; his eyes darted between them waiting to see who'd make the next move.

"The difference is –is that I know what I am, Jim." Bird's eyes traveled over his angry expression and she arched a brow, "But you're afraid."

"Afraid?" He scoffed, "Of what?"

"Turning into one of the monsters you've made a career out of putting behind bars? Maybe you're afraid that deep down you already have?" The sudden spark of intensity in her brown hues dulled and she gave an apathetic shrug, "Your own shadow? God, Jim, I don't know and I don't care."

Taking a step away from him, even her voice sounded flat and emotionless when she questioned, "We done here?"

"What am I supposed to do with all those shopping bags you left in my car?" He questioned, trying to steer the conversation away from the hostile tone she'd been so quick to jump to.
He didn't want to fight with her.

"Throw it away." Her voice was cold as she spun on her heels and started for the door, leaving Oswald on his own to quickly hobble after her.

Bird took the steps outside of the precinct nearly two at a time in her scramble to get out of the building and away from Jim Gordon.

"Miss Wayne." The driver of the sleek black car greeted as he opened the door for her to get into the back.

With a huff, she crawled in and scooted over into the far seat knowing that Oswald would be there shortly.

"Bird!" Oswald hissed through his teeth at the driver as he'd somehow reached the car just mere steps behind his best friend. Roughly slamming the elegant hand carved cane he'd been using that day against the drivers chest he reminded him, "She prefers to be called Bird."

"My car?" Bird questioned once Oswald was seated beside her in the plush and roomy backseat, after his scolding of their driver.

"Taken care of." He dismissed with a hand through the air and a wide smile on his lips.

He watched her intently as she leaned against the door with a slouched and tired posture; the kind that made it obvious she was only suffering from psychical exhaustion.
No. Her misery went far deeper.

Her unwashed hair hung messily in her face and what make up was left from the night before was smeared on her pale face.

There she was, he thought to himself, his Bird was right back at his side.

A little more damaged now, more broken then he remembered and her low mood was enough to suck all the oxygen out of the air in the car with them.

But it didn't matter, not to him.

Her calling him to come and get her from the police station had been the first thing to go right in his life in days.

"Can you stop smiling?" She complained, just barely glancing at him before resting her head against the window.

Oswald shook his head, trying to loosen up the muscles in his cheeks. He hadn't even been aware of the pointed smile that had been adorning his face for the last several minutes.

"My apologies." He stammered, finally pulling his eyes away from his best friend, "I'm just glad you called."

"I've missed you." He continued when she would no longer speak.

Again, Bird didn't say anything back –but he saw her chest move as she exhaled and seemed to forcefully push all the air from her lungs.

Despite their history and having been the best of friends for upwards of four years, she could still feel a sting when she thought of how it felt like he'd left her to rot in Arkham.

"Bird?" Oswald pushed, leaning in closer to try and see if she'd drifted off to sleep.

"Is it worth it?" Her voice was barely over a whisper and left him momentarily confused before she added, "Being king? Is it worth everything we did? All the betrayals and the bloodshed and how much it changed things between us? Was it worth it?"

Slinking back into his the leather padded seat, he adjusted his tie in an attempt to take a deep breath and ease his aching chest.

Was it worth it?

That was the very question that had crossed his mind so many nights as he sat alone at the head of the table in his mansion.

At times it seemed easy enough to think so. After being picked on and looked down on nearly his entire life, he'd finally showed them. Outsmarted everyone at every single turn and now he'd finally laid claim to the throne he believed was so rightfully his.

But his victory hadn't been without sacrifices. Possibly the biggest one being that he'd chosen that power over Bird.
So much so that, at times, he'd used her as a stepping stone on the way up.

It was on his loneliest and lowest nights that he'd sat alone at that table staring into the fire place and hearing her words playing over in head from the fight they'd gotten into at her apartment. A fight that now felt like it had been entire lifetimes ago.

It was the first time she'd really started to come clean about her doubts in their plan to take over Gotham and even more so about how she didn't think she wanted that life after all.
Bird had told him that she didn't want to be like Carmine Falcone –who despite seeming to have the world at his fingertips was truly nothing more than a lonely old man.

As days turned into weeks and weeks blurred into months, Oswald had felt that loneliness for himself.
There he sat in a newly acquired mansion with the city at his feet, surrounded by so many people and yet without Bird –he'd felt nothing but alone.

But that was all in the past now, he was sure of it. His Bird was back and this was sure to be the first in many more victories.

"Those guys you sent to follow me..." Bird finally spoke as the car slowed to a stop, "They said they were supposed to keep me safe."

Slowly he turned his head to face her.

"Safe from what, Oswald?" Bird asked.

"All in good time." He choked out a response.

The short time in which Bird had been back at his side had been the first time in days that his every single thought wasn't haunted by knowing that Theo Galavan had his mother locked away somewhere and was using her life as leverage to assert power over him.

Having his only true friend back in his life was already providing a small relief from the constant feeling of nausea that had left him drinking seltzer instead of wine.

In time he'd tell her the truth about everything that had happened –just not yet. No, for now he just wanted to enjoy the fact that something had finally gone right when everything else was so wrong.

"The guys you sent were second rate." She arched an eyebrow, silently reminding him of how just how easily she'd taken them down.

"Yes, well, they thought they were to protect you from threats –not be concerned with protecting themselves from you." Oswald argued with her, but still didn't offer up any more information on just why exactly he was worried for her safety.

Once they were outside of the car and she spotted her own car, Bird said, "Thanks for coming to get me. Are my keys in my car-"

Looking confused, he shook his head, "Where are you going?"

"A hotel." She shrugged, "Or lease an apartment... maybe buy a house, I don't know. But I'll figure it out."

"Nonsense." Oswald countered with a smile on his lips that lacked any traces of friendliness, "You'll stay here." He nodded to the large mansion.

He'd just gotten her back and he wasn't about to let her part ways with him for another few months. Plus, the best way he could ensure her safety and that Galavan wouldn't try to use her to get him was to keep a close eye on her.

"That's nice, Oswald." Bird sighed, squinting in the morning sun as she glanced up at the sky, "But I think I just need some time alone-"

"No!" His voice raised and his body shook from the sudden outburst, "I insist. I've already had your belongings taken to your room."

"My room?"

"Come. Follow me." He instructed as he headed for the doors and Bird slowly lagged behind him, watching as one of his guards greeted them as he opened the door.

After being led down a long hallway, Oswald stopped outside a large set of double doors and made sure she was caught up with him before he turned the handle and pushed it open.

"Your room." He repeated.

Bird side-eyed him as she walked through the doorway to see what he was talking about.

Stepping in behind her, he nervously ran his tongue over his lips and waited for her reaction.

Her brown eyes widened as she looked around the spacious room, decorated in shades of black and dark purples. It didn't take her long to notice all her favorite perfumes and lotions adoring the top of the large dresser against the far wall.
All of then perfectly lined up in rows of three.

The entire room was reminiscent of her apartment –it was perfect.

And as she noticed more and more small details around her, her still sobering brain slowly started to realize exactly what it all meant and her chest began to ache.

"You couldn't have had this all finished in a day." Bird said, turning to face him, "You knew, didn't you? That it was never really going to work out with me and Harvey?"

Not giving him a chance to answer, she continued, "You knew that no matter how much distance I tried to put between me and my old self that it was pointless."

"I knew it was only a matter of time, Bird." Oswald admitted, stepping closer and looking around the room that had been finished months ago. He proudly proclaimed, "I know you better than anyone ever has or ever will –better than you know yourself."

"I should have just stuck to the plan." Bird shrugged, finding it hard to pull oxygen from the air, "All those years of working towards this-" She motioned around them, "We did it. We overthrew Falcone. Maroni and Fish were dead and the city was ripe for the taking –and I just turned and walked away."

"You did." Oswald nodded.

"And for what?" She scoffed, running her hands through her already unkempt hair.

"As I recall..." Oswald cleared his throat, "A better life."

"I'm sorry." She finally said, walking up to him. "For the way things were left between us and for how Harvey treated you when you came to the house that night. Oswald, I didn't know-"

"All in the past." He assured her without even letting her finish the apology.

"Still..." She breathed.
All of the time she'd spent believing he'd so easily forgotten about her and their friendship, it was clear to see that she'd still been heavily on his mind and in his thoughts.

"You and I." Oswald pulled her attention back to him, "We're inevitable."

Even through the heartache and exhaustion, she managed a weak half smile with the question, "What are you talking about?"

"Us." He explained, "It wouldn't matter which paths we took in any lifetime –or any other universe. No matter how far we strayed from one another... we'd still end up right here. Together."

"You're saying that our fates are intertwined?" She gathered, her tired eyes not quite as empty as they were.

"Call it what you will." He offered with a shrug as he turned to leave.

Stopping just outside of the doorway he looked over his shoulder and said, "Just know that we are who we are; mostly because of each other. I lost you once and I won't let that happen again."

With that he turned to leave and Bird's eyebrows lowered, though she was far too spent to give much thought to his words.

She looked around, trying to decide her next move.

A hot shower and clean clothes would surely make her feel like a new person. The hunger pains and sick feeling of an empty stomach caused her to wonder when the last time she'd even eaten was.

Her eyes drifted across the luggage bags on the floor that Oswald had moved into her room from her car before she'd even gotten there. Seeing as how she didn't really have anywhere else to go –she knew she needed to unpack.

Needed.

There were so many things that she needed to do –so much in fact that she couldn't bring herself to do anything at all.

Pulling the door shut to her room, she stepped over her bags on the floor and made it to the large four poster king sized bed. Barely pausing long enough to kick her shoes off, she sat down on the bed and looked back around the room.

Her eyes stopping on her purse which was lying on the bedside table. Apparently, it had been in her car the entire time and she'd been too drunk to even realize it.

Shaking her head she reached over and picked it up to see if her cellphone was in there, but instead she found the prescription bag from her latest stop by the pharmacy.

Inside was a bottle of sleeping pills a doctor had called in the prescription for.

Reading over the label, she gave a shrug of defeat and considered that maybe what she needed most of all was several hours of sleep.

She popped a few of the pills into her mouth and then fished a half-empty bottle of water out of the bottom of her bag to chase them down.

•••

Bird let out a small groan as she started to wake up from the room being far too hot. Reaching up she smacked some of her damp hair away from her face.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep for, but she must have been lying in the same position for hours on end with the way her back was hurting.

Raising both hands up she started to rub her face and eyes in an attempt to further wake up, but stopped short when her elbows both collided with something hard right above her.

When she opened her eyes and realized she was entirely surrounded by darkness; her breath caught in her throat. Carefully she reached up, palms out, until she felt wood above her.

"Hey!" She yelled, growing more fearful by the second and having no idea where she was at.

Slamming her hands against the wood, she screamed out for someone to help her again. Only this time, as she took to forcefully pounding on it with her fists, she started to sputter on the dirt that was falling through the cracks of wood and landing on her face and in her open mouth.

It wasn't until she'd spit the dirt out that she fully realized what this meant.

She was underground.

She'd been buried alive.

"Help!" She shrieked, suddenly feeling the lack of oxygen in what air she had left.

"Let me out!" She thrashed around, not even feeling the pain from her raw and bloody knuckles as she struck the wood again and again above her to no avail.

All she was managing to do was let more dirt fall through the cracks.

Tears ran from the outer corners of her eyes and into her hair as she let out another frustrated scream just as she felt something with several tiny legs crawl across her bare ankle.

Hysterically kicking, she kept trying to yell out for help but throat was sore and raw and her voice had only continued to grow more hoarse.

She finally stopped struggling, all of her movements stilled with knowing that no one would be able to hear her screaming from underground.
Closing her eyes, she pulled in a deep breath and tried to slow her breathing as much as possible to conserve what oxygen was left –regretfully now feeling the effects of the extreme lack of air.

It was hopeless. Whatever box she'd been locked in was made of sturdy enough wood that she couldn't break through it to even begin to free herself.

Despite her best efforts to keep her breathing slow and even, thoughts and fears creeped into her mind and sent her spiraling back into another panic.

What if no one was coming to help her?

Her chin quivered and more tears soaked into her hairline. She was on her own.

She'd have to save herself.

Pulling a deep breath in between her teeth, she let out another scream as she threw both her hands up again –hitting against the wood with every ounce of strength she had left.

Sharp, intense pains radiated through her bones all the way up her arms and shoulders, the effects could even be felt in her chest.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked around, a pure state of dizzying confusion setting in as she realized she wasn't underground at all.

She hadn't been buried alive.

It had to have been a nightmare –a terrifyingly realistic nightmare.

And while that awareness brought great relief, it only added more to the confusion when she was finally able to get a better view of her surroundings in the tight space she was in.

The last thing she remembered was lying down in bed to sleep –so, she had no clue why she was now under the bed.

Crawling out from under it, she hissed in pain from the stress the movements put on her still aching arms.

Leaning against side of the bed, Bird looked down at her swollen and bloody knuckles. Apparently the nightmare had felt so real, that she'd been beating her fists against the solid wood frame bottom of the bed frame.

Even her knees were bruised up from where she'd been flailing her legs.

As her mouth hung open and she continued to slightly gasp for air, her nose wrinkled. She could still taste the dirt in her mouth.

With her sore knees now pulled up to her chest, she ran her fingers through her hair and pinned her eyes shut.

During her time in Arkham, she'd started to have intensely vivid dreams and nightmares –but still nothing even remotely comparable to this.

She wasn't sure how long she'd sat there, before she finally pulled herself up to her feet and resigned herself to the plan of just crawling back into bed and trying to forget what had happened.

But her breath hitched in her throat when she saw the loose dirt on the sheet of her unmade bed. A deep chill sat into her bones and she would have sworn her blood was slowly being drained from her limbs.

Stumbling backwards, her head flipped from side to side so fast that her hair stung her face with every impact.

Somehow she'd managed to find her way to the door and spilled out into the dark empty hallway.

Her bare feet padded against the floor when she quickened her pace to put space between herself and the horror story she'd just gone through.

Seeing a light coming from an open doorway towards opposite end of the hallway, Bird quickly ran to it and found Butch sitting in a small office, going over the books for the month. Seeing who still needed to pay their tariffs.

"Bird?" He exclaimed when she came into view and he saw her disheveled state. Scrambling to his feet, he looked her over, "What happened?"

"I..." She helplessly breathed with a lost and blank look on her face, "I don't know."

Not even a split second later her head snapped up and she looked at him, demanding to know, "Who was in my room?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, stepping around the desk.

"I had this nightmare that I was buried alive." She finally explained, "Only I'm not so sure it was a nightmare... someone had to have been in my room. There's dirt on my bed and-"

"I've been here for the last few hours going over the books and no one's came down the hallway, darlin'." He tried to ease her mind, but his words brought little comfort.

When she frantically shook her head back and forth, Butch asked, "You sure that you didn't dream the rest of it up too?"

Bird's eyes narrowed at him, "I'm not crazy."

"I never said-"

"Come look and see for yourself!" She yelled, spinning around and charging back towards her room at the end of the hallway with Butch just mere steps behind her.

"See?" She nearly hissed, motioning with both arms to the bed.

"Not really." Butch admitted.

Bird whipped her to the side and looked to see that there wasn't a single trace of dirt on the dark purple sheets.

"No..." She breathed, running over to the bed. "No, no, no. This... this-it's impossible. I'm telling you it was right here."

Her words were jumbled and tone just short of hysterical as she dropped down to her knees to inspect the floor and look back underneath the bed. Hunting for any sign that she wasn't as crazy as the night was making her feel.

"Bird?" Butch questioned.

Swallowing hard, she ran her fingers through her hair and pulled on smile to try and cover up how humiliated she felt.

"I'm sorry." She quickly apologized, getting back to her feet and looking at the shredded skin on her knuckles before diverting her gaze to him, "You can go back to balancing the books. I guess it really was a nightmare."

"You sure?" He asked, and Bird bit down on her tongue to keep from snapping at him with the way he was suspiciously eyeing her. If one more person looked at her like she was a nutcase, she was going to scream.

"Yeah." She nodded, standing perfectly still and waiting until he was gone before she slid back down the side of her bed and rested her head in her hands.

Maybe she really was just barely treading the edge of her own sanity.

•••