"There was a small part of me that was still childish, stubborn in her hope, thinking I could somehow have everything." - Megan Miranda, All the Missing Girls
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Jim slowly walked down the stairs, fastening the buttons on his jacket as he walked towards the kitchen.
Just another morning in the townhouse alone.
It had been a week since Mario's funeral. Seven nights that he'd laid down to sleep at night missing Bird and waking up in the morning somehow missing her even more.
He'd been so conflicted on what he should do.
Bullock kept telling him to give it time; to give Bird time.
But now here he was completely alone in the townhouse they'd shared together for quite some time.
Granted, he knew it wasn't technically his house, but it felt like home. Or at least it did when Bird was there.
And now he was left in this awkward position of not knowing if he should continue staying there or leave.
He did still have a house across town he'd paid a full years rent on when he was working as a bounty hunter.
Letting out a sigh, he shook his head, the memories of living in that place bearing down like a physical weight on him.
He'd never been a such a low place in his life before and he never wanted to go back.
Jim knew he'd never have made it out of there had it not been for Bird and her stubbornness.
Her refusal to give up on him and how she'd pushed him to not give up on himself either.
There were many times when she was the singular thing that kept him from drowning and now he had no idea where she was -or how she was holding up.
Maybe that's why he continued to stay in their house, the downstairs lights left on when he went upstairs to sleep at night -a show of his own stubbornness; that he was there waiting on her.
That he wasn't giving up.
Jim's thoughts were interrupted when he heard something move in the kitchen.
Bird?
He more-so wished than actually thought as he drew closer to the room.
It wouldn't be unlike her to be moving about the house with him having no idea.
She could be dangerously quiet -especially when she wanted too.
But when he saw who it was, his heart sank. Hopes dashed.
It wasn't Bird at all.
"Hope you don't mind." Victor Zsasz smiled at Jim as he took another drink from the glass bottle of milk he'd swiped from their refrigerator, "Helped myself."
"What are you doing here?" Jim's voice was flat.
Not amused by the assassins antics.
"I'm here as a messenger." Zsasz answered.
Jim glanced around, memorizing the scene and possible weapons he could grab if need be.
He pulled in a breath, deciding to play along.
"Okay... I'm listening."
Zsasz stepped closer to where Jim seemed to be lingering in the doorway.
"You messed up, Jim." He drew the words out with every step closer until he came to a stop and slammed the glass bottle down on the counter so hard Jim thought for sure it might break, "Killed the Don's son. He's beside himself."
"I've never seen him like this before." Zsasz glanced down at the floor.
"I want to speak with him." Jim insisted, now he was the one moving in closer.
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...
