Born to Fly

The Return of Jim Gordon - ✔

The next two years pass slowly. Eventually, I begin to think I might die before my brother finally returns. We get weekly phone calls, but that doesn't sway my anxiety that comes with every knock on our door. With the accompanying stress of finals season, it's beginning to make me sick.

As he suggested, I begin bi-weekly therapy. Mother joins me for some sessions. I think it helps her feel connected to me even though her memory's beginning to fail.

To my surprise and displeasure, life continues on. It did after Dad died, and it does after Jim leaves. I've never felt ready to move on, but no one was willing to stop for me. Time never gave me a second glance.

The day after my last test, my brother comes back to Gotham from war. A week prior to his return, he shared his dream of doing police work. Though I knew it was dangerous, who was I to protest? I'm pursuing work at a hospital in the heart of the city.

"Hi, James!"

He wastes no time in dropping his bags to sweep me up into a tight hug. "Oh, you've really grown up! I missed you so much, Sera."

Even though he's laughing and smiling, I find it hard to do the same.

"I missed you too," I say. "How are you doing?"

Jim slings his backpack over his shoulders. He promptly offers his arm once it's free. "I'm feeling great now. I missed the stench of garbage on the streets."

"You have to tell me everything about your trip."

Something in him snaps. The light-hearted, carefree young man turns cold. His features freeze in a second. "It wasn't just a trip. I was at war. I killed people."

"I know," I attempt to rectify his mood. "I didn't want to sound so gruesome, now that you just got back and— and at least you're here now. Mom's waiting on us."

He takes in a deep breath. Four counts in, four counts out, repeat three times. And then it's as if nothing ever happened. His smile, while strained, has returned on his lips. "We wouldn't want to keep her waiting."

On the way home, he indulges me with some of the lighter details of war. When it's my turn, I tell him of Mom's recent health decline and school. It's as if no time passed between us. He and I are once again on our way to a whole, happy family.

"Did you get counseling?"

"I did. Are you planning to?"

His bright blue hues remain locked on the old house like it's heaven. This is the one spot where he belongs in the wide, frightening world.

After letting him have a few more moments of silence, he answers my question.

"Yeah, sure."

"James, I'm serious about this one."

"I really don't need counseling. I'm in Gotham, safe and sound. What else could I possibly need?"

"I'm worried about you!" I hang up our coats by the door. "You haven't even been back for an hour and I can tell something's bugging you."

"Let me walk through the door, Sera. I'll snap back to normal!"

"Are you two fighting, already?" Mother wheels herself into the large den. It's at that moment I notice how old she's truly gotten. Her eyes used to match Jim's. Now, they're gray. Her skin used to be decorated with dashes of freckles. Her cheeks have turned yellow with sickness. "You haven't even been together twenty-four hours and you're already bickering. James, come let me have a look at you, my boy."

He obliges, making sure to give me a long, hard glare.

"I don't know why you're arguing, but what I do know is that you better work it out before dinner."