Author's Note:

So this is my first fanfic ever. This idea has been in my head a couple of weeks after The Dark Knight came out and I finally have the time to start writing it.

I would like to thank Harlequin Sequins for inspiring me with her amazing story, Saviors and Hellion Smiles and for encouraging me to give this fanfic a try! :D

I really enjoyed writing this first chapter and I'm looking forward to continuing this story! :D

Disclaimer:

I don't own Gotham City (and I don't think I would want to, either) because it belongs to DC Comics
Julia Brighton belongs to me. :)

Gotham.

Our country's highest crime rates lie within this city. The once beautiful, highly respected city now broils in its own turmoil. Its inhabitants seem to have fear and worry permanently etched onto their faces.

Gotham: my new home.

As I reached the city limits with my Virginia license plates, I began to feel a sense of anxiety bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't have to leave home. I could have easily gotten a job at the local theatre; after all, it was where I interned during my final year in college.

My family had begged me not to go, told me it was too precarious a place to live. There would be no one to protect me from the dangers that lurk in the shadows at night. No surrounding, blue-green mountains to make me feel safe and secure. I would be on my own.

I supposed I could turn the car around and return home.

No. I needed to escape the pain that had been rampaging in my mind these past three months. I wanted to leave behind everything that would serve as memories, even if it meant my beloved home as well. The guilt had been eating away at me slowly, intent on letting me suffer. I wanted to believe it wasn't my fault, and yet it was.

I could feel the tears coming from my heart and racing up the canal to my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but they couldn't be stopped. Like a waterfall, they made their way to the edge and flowed down my face.

In seconds, the lenses on my sunglasses began to fog up, distorting my vision. In a huff, I tossed them on the passenger seat and impatiently wiped away my tears.

"Come on, Julia," I muttered to myself. "You've been crying for three months. Nothing can change what happened."

I rolled down the window and hungrily took many gulps of air, not caring about the smoke and other pollutants I could taste. My car slowed as the moving van I followed came to a stoplight. Observing my surroundings, I was aware of the skyscrapers towering above me. The image was intimidating, since I grew up in a small city where the tallest building was a bank tower. And even it wouldn't reach the halfway mark on the majority of these steel giants.

My fingers tightened their death grip on the steering wheel. I felt so small and insignificant, this monstrous city too much for a small town girl to handle.

I mentally slapped myself. Stop trying to talk yourself out of it, Julia. You can do this, you have to.

"I can do this," I told myself firmly. "I have to."

As I weaved my way through downtown traffic, I had become more alert of the many obstacles an enormous city contains. I had to slam on my brakes a few times whenever a distracted pedestrian would dart into the road, seemingly out of nowhere. And I had to pull over to make room for a speeding police car and its entourage.

We finally arrived at my new residence. I slowly made my way out of the car, stretching my stiff legs out of their lengthy slumber. The two movers threw me annoyed looks as they opened the back of the truck, their nonverbal way of telling me, "Quit lollygagging, girly!"

I turned my head so they couldn't witness my eye roll. Oh sure, they were helping me out, but only for the reward of getting paid. They had been nothing but rude to me during my journey up north, throwing my belongings into the truck as if they were worthless junk. And stopping every hour to take a fifteen minute smoke break; lazily talking amongst themselves while I sat in the car, tapping the steering wheel impatiently, my narrowed eyes shooting daggers at the sluggish brutes.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I limped my way to the movers, slowly regaining the feeling in my legs. Without a word, I entered the back of the van and took a fairly light box, followed suit by my so called "helpers". Making my way to the stairs, I glanced around at the apartment building. It was small, only five stories and bland in appearance. But I expect this was considered paradise in comparison to renting an apartment in The Narrows.

My employer told me over the phone, "Never, under any circumstances, think about living in The Narrows. It's a really shady area, has the worst crime in all of Gotham. You hear all the time about women getting mugged or raped on their way home".

What disturbed me more than her actual words was the way she had said them. It was so matter-of-fact, as if it wasn't anything unheard of.

Hearing the gulp I had emitted, she quickly added, "But you'll have nothing to worry about, Julia. If you live close to the theatre, you'll only be five minutes from downtown and far away from The Narrows!"

I quavered slightly, just hearing the name was enough to give me chills. Thankfully, I made it to my level after climbing only one set of stairs, so I didn't have to focus on Gotham's worst section any longer. Upon opening the door, I found myself in the bleak, four room apartment. It wasn't very spacious, but it looked comfortable enough.

I winced as one of the movers roughly made his way past me, banging into my arm without so much as an apology. I could feel the heat rising up to my cheeks, but decided it would be best not to tell him off.

After almost an hour, I made my way down the stairs for what seemed like the hundredth time. There was just one box left, which I had purposely placed in the corner of the truck, away from anything that would do it harm. Out of sight, but never out of mind.

When I climbed into the truck, I found the man only a couple of inches taller than me stooping to retrieve the box. His rough grip caused it to open slightly and he carelessly tossed my precious store onto his shoulder.

"Please be careful with that," I said, hurrying over. "That's a very fragile box."

He snorted, "Look lady, if it ain't got the writing on it, then I really don't give a damn how I handle it".

"Yes, well I give a damn. It contains items that are extremely important to me".

Rolling his eyes, he shoved the box into my arms. "Don't see what the big deal is. It's just a couple of pictures of you and-"

"It's of sentimental value; surely even you can understand that," I cut him off bitterly, my temper getting the better of me.

Grumbling to himself, he trudged out of the vehicle, with me in his wake. I held the box securely over my heart, like a mother with her newborn infant, intent on protecting it from harm. When I placed it on my desk next to my laptop, I turned to the movers, thankful this ordeal was almost over.

I rummaged through my purse and pulled out two crisp ten dollar bills, handing one to each of them. Their work may have been less than satisfactory, but I heard that movers are generally underpaid. So I suppose a little is always better than nothing.

Giving each other disgusted looks, the more intimidating of the two exclaimed, "Lady, do you seriously believe that after we worked our asses off to move you from that worthless little town of yours to this fucked up city, that you can tip us this shitty amount of so-called money?"

I tilted my head, staring at their lower backs. "Hmm, well your asses seem to be intact to me, so I guess that means you barely put any effort into it".

The stockier bastard's mouth fell open, making him appear even more idiotic, while his companion started to shout, "Why you little -"

"Nevertheless," My normally quiet voice managed to overcome the ringing noise emitting from his mouth. "I could always give you the appropriate amount you earned, which happens to be nothing. Now that's my final offer. Ya'll can either take it, or leave it. What's it gonna be?"

After many seconds of uncomfortable silence, the two sent me a final death glare and stomped off to their truck, looking very similar to brothers who were denied sweets due to their bratty behavior.

I made my way to the window, making sure they wouldn't be stupid enough to ram into my car before driving off, as an act of bitter revenge. Thankfully, they only shouted incoherent words I couldn't register (but I could imagine), slamming their doors shut, and speeding in the direction of the freeway.

Turning away from the window, I looked around at the numerous boxes containing my treasures. "Might as well get started," I sighed, heading over to one labeled "Kitchenware", ripping off the tape, beginning the first tedious task of my new life.