"The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter - often an unconscious but still a faithful interpreter - in the eye." - Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
•••
"See, this isn't so bad." Mario pointed out with a smile as he took another bite of steak then asked, "Why were you so hesitant to get to know me?"
Bird shook her head and paused the conversation long enough to take a drink of her lemonade.
The lunch with her half-brother had been going surprising well so far.
She'd expected it to be strained, the talking forced -like being stuck in an elevator with a stranger.
But it wasn't.
Despite the vastly different upbringings and lives they'd led, there was a strange sense of familiarity in his company.
They'd ordered similar dishes for lunch even.
More than once she'd caught herself staring just a little too long at face, seeking out their resemblances and tallying them up in her mind.
"I don't know." She exhaled loudly, "I guess I just... felt like I knew everything I needed to already."
His eyebrows lowered, "Like what?"
"Come on." She could have rolled her eyes. Motioning over the table and nearly knocking her drink over she pointed out, "I haven't met a single person who knows you that has anything bad to say, Mario. All anyone does is sing your praises and I guess I thought we'd have absolutely nothing in common. You probably came out of the womb knowing you were going to grow up into this great person who saves lives and I..."
Shaking her head she avoided his eyes but was more honest than she'd ever intended to be with him, "I already have one golden boy brother. Didn't think I could handle two."
"Well, not everything is what it seems." Mario answered, "Don't get me wrong. I love what I do and I wouldn't change it, but I didn't get a choice in the matter."
She listened as he explained that their father had pretty much told him how his life would be. It wasn't Mario's first choice to become a doctor, but Falcone made it clear that -that was exactly what he'd be doing.
"Huh..." She exclaimed.
"What?" He asked.
"I thought you'd decided to be a doctor for some poetic reason like; your father takes lives and so you grew up wanting to save them, or something."
She chuckled to herself and shook her head.
"No." He mirrored her laugh, "But that's good. I might have to steal that the next time someone asks why I chose this career."
"You know..." Bird began, "He had plans for me too. Falcone tried to force me into filling his shoes as a crime boss."
"He told me." Mario began, "Well, not all of it I'm sure. Mainly just how he wanted that for you -how close you were to stepping up-"
"Stepping up?" Bird's face twisted, "Did you tell you how he forced me into working with Victor Zsasz to toughen me up? How he nearly had my fiance at the time beat to death solely to keep me in line? Or-"
She could have went on and on. Told him a thousand stories that could have forever changed the way Mario would look at his father, but she stopped when she saw him lay his fork down and scoot his plate away.
Yeah, she thought, as she dropped her napkin into the center of her plate; it was enough to take anyone's appetite away.
"The last promise he made to my mother before she died was that he wouldn't raise me in that life." His chest felt tight as he spoke, feeling defensive.
Though he wasn't sure over what? Defending himself? His not being raised in life of crime or their father's actions?
YOU ARE READING
Devil's Playground • Gotham Fanfiction •
Fanfiction"Sometimes you have to just sit back and watch people destroy themselves." Bird's own words after watching her biological mother die. Little did she know that apparently it was something she'd inherited. Maybe that's just part of the madness of life...
