Chapter Text
April 26th, 2009 : Move-in Day
The streets were cold and the sky was cloudy, nothing unusual for Gotham, but surely something to get used to. Even in early spring, the days often stayed frosty as the wind glided across the Atlantic ocean in cold gusts. Today was no different.
It hasn’t been more than a few days since your father gained full custody and you already decided that you did not like Gotham City. In reality, you decided months ago, when this battle between paternal and maternal all began, that you did not like Gotham City. All you ever found yourself reading about in regard to this this god awful city was crime this, crime that. The Jocker, the Riddler, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Jada jada jada. It sounded miserable. Not to mention the fact that the "heroes" of Gotham City spent most of their nights beating the shit out of petty criminals. Instead, all your smiles and head-nods while picking furniture were fake optimism, an attempt at making your excited father happy. He had spent a lot of time trying to find a decent place, after all, and ruining his joy felt...selfish. The least you could do was try, though the smile on your lips was beginning to sag the longer you stood in front of your new home, supervising the movers as they carried boxes up run down steps.
You were struggling to hide your discontent as your father raved on about how this would be a good experience for you and that “this apartment will be cozy in no time. Just try to stay positive for me, Mäuschen.”
“Papa… I just- I don’t know. I was reading the news yesterday and–”
“Oh, stop with the news, Y/N,” he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, “Trust me, I know. But becoming a professor at Gotham University is not only an amazing opportunity for me to establish myself in the professional world, but this new salary will improve our living situation in the long run. I know you don’t understand that just yet, Mäuschen, but one day you’ll look back and–”
“And understand that sometimes making sacrifices and taking risks will benefit you more than staying in your shell. I know.” You grumbled, shoving your reddening hands into your pockets. The cold wind was nipping at your skin, burning crimson into your knuckles to match your nose and cheeks.
Before your father could utter another word, a shatter was heard from the second floor of your new building, followed by a soft curse. The people passing on the streets paid the sound no mind, but your ears perked up and your nose scrunched, head snapping towards the chipping front-door. Your father opened his mouth, but it was too late. Footsteps echoed as you abandoned the conversation in favor of seeing what happened. Into the building and up the stairwell you went. The wet soles of your worn out sneakers squeaked against the cement-like surface of the steps as you passed a few apartments on the way up.
“What-”
A soft breath escaped your lips. The warm air clouded in front of your face for only a second before it disappeared again, carbon dissipating into the atmosphere when you came to a stop. In this very moment, as you bend down to pick up a piece of your now smashed mirror, you decided that maybe pretending to like Gotham was not going to work.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Maybe, just maybe, this was God's way of telling you to get the fuck out of here. To go back to the little town in Arizona, or maybe even back to Germany, where your father was born and raised.
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Sitting in your room that night felt... wrong. After the movers managed to get everything else into your apartment, this time without breaking any mirrors, your father spent hours hurrying about as your watched. Books got sorted into shelves, plates got settled in cupboards, rugs were rolled out in almost every room, a map was hung directly above the media cabinet, where normal familys put TV's, and important documents got stored away into the drawers of his barely surviving desk, one that was heavy oak yet somehow still wobbly. It was as if the man was trying too hard to make it feel like home, to please you and your shitty attitude; one he didn't really know how to handle.
In all honesty, the apartment itself wasn't bad. Quite the opposite.
It was a hard thing to admit, but as you got up and walked over to your window, you couldn't help but feel a little soothed by the fact that at least your living space felt okay. It wasn't Arizona, but being raised to not take anything for granted allowed you the privilege of understanding how well you had it. At least it was a roof over your head...right?
SMASH, CLASH, SHATTER.
Maybe you spoke too soon.
Before you could soothe your curiosity with mature thoughts such as the ones screaming at you to lay back down and ignore it, your hands pressed against the cold glass. This is a bad idea. This was dangerous. Stupid. You never run towards danger.
Your fingers hooked around the edge and, with a quiet grunt and the squeak of the frames, you pushed it upwards. It was old and gross to touch and of coarse, the slides no longer worked as they did 15 years ago, making it a bit of a struggle to get the window all the way up. But you managed.
With a soft sigh, you push past the discomfort and place your palms onto the windowsill, shifting to get better leverage on the questionably stained surface. One leg first. You duck under the shoved up glass, steadying yourself by placing your foot onto the rusty fire escape before properly straddling the window. It creaked softly. Your eyes, which sparkled under the reflection of the nearby street lamp, immediately fell on the men currently standing in front of the corner store just a few houses down the road. Hushed whispers managed to make their way toward you.
You squint to get a better look, one leg still in your room just in case you had to slip back in quickly, when a light illuminated the sky and pulled your attention away from the burglars almost immediately. It was almost larger than the moon and brighter too, bright enough to erase the beautiful stars and far, far away planets that usually shone so bright in the Arizona sky. Gotham was different.
Before you could properly study the weird, bat shaped gap in the light, glass crunching caught your attention. The voices grew louder.
“Shit, we gotta go!” One of them cursed, glancing into the shop, “Hurry the fuck up, come on.”
Sirens echoed somewhere in the city.
You move to fully step out onto the fire escape when a quiet thump came from somewhere above, stopping you in your tracks. All of a sudden, your curiosity fell short. An invisible weight falls atop of your chest, pushing you in on yourself with a quiet gasp and a dull, aching feeling that quickly transitions into a sinking feeling, almost as if your organs were rearranging themselves.
“Go back inside, kid."