Chapter Text
Gotham, also known as the Capital of Crime, was the type of city you don‘t visit intentionally, not even on accident. The people who live there are too stubborn and proud to leave, the people who don‘t live there are too afraid to step foot into it.
I mean, why would anyone enter it voluntarily?
Now, New York was no saint either, but in comparison, at least it didn‘t look as dystopian. The sky in Gotham was permanently grey, as if someone decided to paint the horizon one day and no one‘s ever bothered to change the canvas since. Part of it was because the weather was always bad in general, part of it because of the fumes. Most of the streets were dirty and in dire need of renovation, cracked asphalt and trash littering the poorest parts. It was the city's own, special kind of appeal - the type you didn't choose, but was forced upon you. The buildings loomed above everyone, like a threat, you didn‘t feel safely confined, no, it felt cagey and opressing.
But that‘s not the worst part.
The worst part about Gotham were the crimes, the villains and the gangs.
Growing up in the wealthier parts of New York meant that Zara Green's only ever heard of the terrors of villains like the Joker and Crimes of the Riddler in brief passing. Here and there, people would gossip about the city, sometimes she would hear about it in the radio while driving through Brooklyn.
But now that she, after an unfortunate series of events, found herself in the crime ridden and rotten-to-the-core city itself, suddenly, it didn‘t sound as funny anymore.
Of course, she could laugh about the nightmarish deeds done by someone calling himself „The Joker“ (of all the ridiculous names one could have chosen) from the safe confines of her room.
But now?
Being here?
Watching the imposing buildings, the intimidating streets and too dark alleys as they passed her from where she sat in the taxi, it all didn‘t feel that funny anymore.
All of a sudden, it was her reality.
She wasn‘t too thrilled when she found out that she would have to live with her mother, but then again, she also couldn‘t really refuse when it was her father‘s last wish. They they should reconciliate and live like a true family, he wanted for Zara to have at least someone in her corner, he didn't want for her to stay alone.
She loved her Pa, more than anyone else.
All his life, he‘s never limited her, he was always supportive, loving and pushed her to be her best self.
Even if it was the last thing she wanted to do, it was, simultaneously, the least she could do for him - live with her mother.
Well, there weren‘t any serious issues between her and her mother yet, it‘s just that she knew and remembered her mother as well as her history teacher from middle school, meaning almost not at all.
She knew she had her mother‘s lips and nose, the same dark hair colour, because it was the remark most family friends would bring up while trying to do smalltalk.
But other than that?
Nothing.
She sighed, dropping her head against the window, feeling the coldness of it as it calmed her overheating head down and watching the way her breath fogged the clear surface up, before she closed her eyes.
By the time she openend her eyes again, the streets had shifted.
No desintegrating streets and ominous corners anymore, she was greeted with manors and bungalows lining up, high picket fences and lush green gardens.
She blinked, not expecting the change in scenery.
"Where are we right now?" she carefully asked her driver, gulping down a nervous breath.
"We‘re still in Gotham, Ma‘am, ‘s jus‘ the wealthier part."
She raised her eyebrows.
Wealthier?
He used the superlative like there was a comparison to the city they saw earlier, this area looked like a completely different world. Like her driver had invented teleportation mere minutes ago, while her eyes were still closed, and brought them to another place across the globe.
So this is where my mom lives...
Of course she did.
Even if her Pa never explicitly admitted it, he always hinted at the fact that her mother fell in love with a man who could give her more.
From the first time she ever asked and he answered, she immediately deciphered what was hidden behind his kinder words.
To be as clear as possible, her mother was a gold digger, or something like that, there was no other explanation. And even when it hurt him to the bones, her father never even dared to speak ill of her mother, bless his heart.
The same could definetly not be said about the daughter though, she had always been a hot head.
Her father wasn‘t poor, he was part of the upper middle-class and they lived a more than comfortable life. He was an avid lover, attentive and kind. Any woman would be stupid to leave him (,or too blinded by other‘s wealth).
Finally, the car came to a stop, her body slightly jerking forward due to the abrupt motion and she grumbled to herself.
Zara opened the door, the breeze rushed into the car like it was seeking refuge from something, creeping beneath her clothes and clinging to her skin. It chased the sleep away from her mind and she inhaled deeply. It smelled faintly of something chemical, but also like something else, something more natural, as if someone intentionally planted flowers and lush weeds to make the area smell cleaner and cover the odor of the fumes.
Scrunching up her nose, she grabbed her luggage and paid the driver, feeling her fingers already starting to turn numb.
Jeez, autumn only just started.
Snuggling into her scarf, she analysed the manor infront of her blankly, lightly impressed by the intricate marbling and pearly white gates. She sighed, taking the steps towards the entrance, legs weak and weary, as if her body was trying to prevent her from entering this whole new world.
She double checked the nameplate at the door, making sure she was at the right building, before she finally rung the bell, waiting for someone to open the door. The obnoxious clacking of heels could be heard through the doors from many many metres away already.
"Zara! Baby! You‘re finally home!" A woman slightly shorter than her slumped into her neck, hugging her as if she‘s been waiting for this moment, while all Zara could do was freeze.
This woman, who had not bothered to contact her in the past 20 years of her life, hugged her, said ‚finally‘ as if someone had been stopping her, controlling her, called her 'baby' like she was truly her mother‘s. Her high-pitched voice grated against Zara's ear drums, making her cringe and slightly pull away in discomfort, as her mother bluntly kept invading her personal space.
Mistaking it as shyness, she immediately pulled off of her, finally, and took Zara in, wiping away nonexistent tears from her eyes.
"Look at you, you‘re a real lady already! At the ripe age of eighteen."
Her fists clenched.
"I‘m twenty," Zara corrected her, deadpan.
Her mother completely ignored her remark and simply grabbed her wrists in a painful grip, turning around to pull her into the building.
"I hope your travels were not too stressful," she tutted, complaining about first world probems, like not getting the expensive brand water on plane rides, under her breath.
"This is your room."
Zara briefly tripped over her own feet as she was shoved inside, her heart missing a beat before she found her footing again.
"Welcome to Gotham, darling," and with that, the door was shut and the room plunged into darkness.
Zara‘s mouth fell open as her brain finally caught up to everything that just occured, especially how fast it occured. Somewhere deep within her, a seething, bitter voice told her it was because her mother wanted to deal with and get rid of her as fast as possible.
"Thank you for asking how my life has been, Mom." she scoffed, shaking her head before she started searching for the light switch.
Once she switched the light on, she had to quickly force her eyes shut, the light too blinding and stark, before they adjusted to brightness. She looked around, taking in the room she might spend the rest of her life in, depending on how well her reconciliation with her mother went.
It was nice and simple, pastel green walls, dark brown, high-quality wooden furniture and golden accents. The room was spacious, a bit too spacious. It was swallowing her up, she never felt so little.
Gulping down something way too emotional and shaky for right now, she opened up her suitcases and stared settling in. It didn‘t take long, she didn‘t own too many posessions. Once she was done, Zara looked around once again.
Better.
The room looked a bit more like her old one.
Grabbing a pair of fresh pyjamas, she entered the bathroom attached to her room. The bathroom was pretty, with bordeaux red and white, marbled tiles. She let the steam finally wash off the grime and exhaustion of the day, feeling her muscles loosen as the steam curled around her legs, traveled up her body and settled on about every surface as a thin, sheen layer. Her skin was red and raw by the time she was finished.
Just as she left the bathroom, someone knocked at her door.
"Young Miss, may I come in?" a polite voice questioned from the other side.
Zara‘s eye twiched in confusion and she sat down on her bed before she replied with a quick 'come in!'
A man entered the room, not looking much older than thirty, and for a second, Zara had to double take, because there was no way people still wore butler outfits in the big ‘25.
"Excuse me for imposing at this hour, my name is Peter Rose, the resident butler, but I ough to bring you your schedule and uniform. A bag has already been packed for you, the uniform is ironed.“ he explained, putting down the clothes and a single sheet of paper on her desk.
"I hope you arrived safely?" he offered, smiling at Zara.
It was amusing, kind of, to witness real butlers, so she couldn‘t help but chuckle.
"Yes, Mr. Rose, the travels went smoothly. Thank you for the warm welcome."
"Please, call me Peter," Peter‘s smile turned warm, like actually warm, before it fell and he rasped his throat.
„Young Miss, my deepest condolences. From what I know, your father was an honourable man.“
For a second, she flinched, froze up. Her father‘s death was still fresh and Zara never dared to directly confront the thought that he was gone with an absolute finality no one could undo. Hearing someone say it so directly, it was something she hadn‘t prepared for.
"Thank you, Peter," she inhaled sharply.
"I want to sleep now, have a good night."
"Of course, Young Miss. You as well."
And with that, she was alone again.
Zara rubbed her eyes, dragging her hand across your face before she turned off the light switch and laid down. The bed was soft and fluffy, it felt expensive beyond belief - the type of matress, blanket and pillow most would describe as perfect.
Yet, for some reason, she never felt more alien and uncomfortable in her life.
The night passed in a breeze and gentle knocking woke her up again.
Zara groaned, rolled around and grabbed her phone. It was seven a.m. already.
"Yes?" she asked, voice groggy and mind still half asleep.
"Good morning Young Miss, it‘s time to get ready for University," Peter‘s voice echoed from the other side. "Breakfast is about to be set."
"Jus' a minute, I‘ll be there," she informed him, breathing out once his footsteps had faded away completely.
Mornings were always hard for Zara. At heart, she was a morning person, she enjoyed the slowness of it and watching as the world woke up, she just wasn‘t a waking up early enough person. Her limbs still felt heavy, weighed down from the long travel and she briefly considered going back to bed. But alas, she couldn‘t ignore Uni, her degree is more valuable than anything else in her life right now. It was her ticket to a comfortable life.
The food at the table was still warm by the time she had freshened up and found her way to the kitchen. Peter had the table set with fruits and pancakes and Zara almost snorted. It looked eerily similar to those Disney breakfasts in movies and series that the main character would skip because they were late for school.
Grabbing a bunch of pancakes and strawberries, Zara helped herself to a generous cup of coffe and quickly got to munching down. She didn‘t get to eat during her travels yesterday at all, since it tends to make her feel sick. She also didn‘t have any dinner, too exhausted to bother, she simply passed out in the bed. The hunger really caught up to her once she gulped down the first bite, almost moaning at the taste. These pancakes were perfect.
Once she finished up, Zara- despite Peter's protest- gathered her dishes and cutlery and helped him clean up.
"What is the best way to go to Uni?" Zara remembered to ask as she scrubbed off a rather persistent stain of sirup from her plate.
"You could take the bus, but I would strongly advise you to not use the public transport, Young Miss. It is much safer if you let the driver take you there," he replied instantly.
She grimaced, getting a driver felt a bit too weird.
"Why not the Public transport?"
"It‘s not safe, Young Miss," there was no hesitation in his voice.
Zara finished washing the last fork, dried her hands and propped her hip against the counter. Peter was busy drying and putting the plates back into the cupboards.
"Is the situation in Gotham really that bad?"
A sad smile broke out on his lips.
"The thing about Gotham, Young Miss, is that it‘s a harsh environment. She has a strong core, the people are resilient enough to live and enjoy life here to some extend, but if you‘re not careful enough, she‘ll swallow you."
...Great.
Zara crossed her arms, muttering a smill 'huh' before she cleared her throat.
"Alright, noted. I‘ll get ready then."
"Of course, the driver will await you at the entrance, Have a succesfull first day, Young MIss." Peter called as she left the kitchen and traversed back to her room.
Twenty minutes passed in a blur as she did her makeup and changed into the uniform, cringing. NYU didn‘t have mandatory uniforms. Everything about Gotham U felt a bit too much like in movies and unnecessarily extra.
The usual jitters and nervousness had already kicked in by the time she arrived, seeing the grand building and the many people. The air smelled more expensive here, the students walked around with an aura that screamed nepotism and thriving ego. Zara felt out of place, like a sore thumb sticking out. She thanked the driver and reluctantly stepped towards the building, trying to seem as normal as possible as she analysed the overall attitude of the people attending.
The secretary‘s office was the first room she allowed herself to finally breathe in as she sat down.
"Good morning, Ms. Green, welcome to Gotham U," she was greeted with the usual formalities and politeness.
"I belive you schedule was already sent to you..." everything after that passed by Zara in a blur. It was the same procedure for every Uni, nothing new, so she allowed herself to slip into another headspace and ponder about her future.
So this is it,huh.
This is my life now?
"..., here are the materials you‘ll need today. I wish you a good first day." The secretary - Mrs. Phillips - pushed a bunch of books across the table.
They weren‘t too heavy, so she quickly gathered them in her arms and left the office with one last 'thank you' and 'bye'. Finding her next room wasn‘t hard. Not many people could afford to go to Gotham U, so it came to Zara as no surprise that the building wasn‘t as big as the Uni in New York.
Gosh, I miss Amy.
Zara couldn‘t properly say goodbye to her. Her Pa died at the end of the semester, she was so caught up with paperwork for shifting her living situation and University, the both of them couldn‘t say goodbye in person. It stung, it really did. They had been joined to the hips since childhood, it was never a possibilty for Zara that she‘d ever leave New York and her beloved ones.
The room was already filled, not too big, accomodating aproximately fifty students and she quickly sat down in the back, trying to avoid being seen and having to introduce herself like in the movies. The lecturer arrived not much later, starting the period with no greeting or introduction, going straight to work.
So it‘s a general thing.
She mused to herself.
Zara listened, jotted down notes on her tablet when she seemed it fit and followed his line of thought easily. It wasn‘t new infortmation, Zara had already been part of the Official Art Club in New York and they had already covered most of the topics relevant.
"So, before we tackle the next part, I want you to go into groups of two. You‘ll solve exercises that serve as a repitition for everything you remember from last year."
Now that caught her off-guard.
Zara watched as everyone scrambled to form groups with the friends they have already formed multiple months ago, maybe even years ago. Working alone wasn‘t a problem, she‘s done it before. Just as she was about to start scribbling down points in order to start on the analysis, the lecturer clapped, grabbing her attention.
"Ah, finally, we‘re an even number. You, in the back, please pair up with Mr. Wayne here."
The room turned pin drop silent.
All of a sudden, all eyes were on her, some curious, some judgmental, some full of pity.
Zara rasped her throat, grabbed her things and approached the student her lecturer had pointed at.
She couldn‘t make out much from his back, only that he had olive brown skin and dark hair, bordering to black. The air around him faintly smelled of something smoky and woodsy, reminding Zara of the Oud and Misk stalls she once walked past in a market, but of course, he smelled much more expensive.
Once settled down, she finally faced him.
"Hi, I'm Zara." she offered, albeit a bit embarassed.
Sharp and golden-green eyes met brown ones.