Disclaimer: I do not own Gotham or any of the characters. I only own my OC.

A/N: This is my first Gotham fanfic, so please excuse me if my writing is not good like the other writers in this awesome fandom. I do plan on staying to close to the shows plot, with only adding a few extra things involving my OC Winifred Gordon. The story will start of her in POV, but I plan on making it a full 3rd POV when we head into season 2. I am also planning on making this a eventual Jerome/OC story, but until Jerome's arrival Winifred is going to be interacting with other characters in the show as well. Since I think character development is indeed important with my story. So...I hope you guys like how this story starts off! Enjoy the first chapter.

P.S. Winifred's face-claim is Elena Kampouris.

*Edited 1/26/17*

"I will be stronger than my sadness." ― Jasmine Warga

Chapter 1: Mental illness sucks

My mother wasn't crazy. At least not to me anyways.

No, she just had some certain, umm...issues.

But I would never ever call her crazy.

Like I said, she just had issues...like being severely mentally ill.

It wasn't her fault that she had the sheer luck of deveoping a horrific mental disorder.

Schizoaffective disorder, is what the doctors told me she had when they were checking her into the mental hospital.

When I first heard that name, I thought it was utterly ridiculous and fake. But let me tell you, this disorder is real and it was nowhere near being ridiculous. Especially not after witnessing what my mother had gone through because of it.

When getting more details about the disoder, the doctors told me that Schizoaffective is a mental disorder that causes a person to experience a combination of schizophrenia symptoms, along with having a mood disorder. Which is exactly what my mother unfortunately had. They said that she mostly likely had gotten it because of a chemical imbalance in her brain. Which was the more reasonable explanation, since there was no one else in our family line that had mental issues. Not that we knew of anyways. So genetics in her case was not the key to why she had this mental condition. So sadly, my mother just got the short end of the stick in the mental health department.

Except what's so unusual about this type of disorder is that it only affects about one percent of the population. Mainly female than males. Which made me bitter in the inside. Because why out of all the people in the world, did my mother have to be diagnosed with this wretched illness? I mean, it's not like I would want someone else to have this illness, but I really didn't want my mother to have it.

But she did...and I was there when she had her mental break down.

I should have seen the signs more clearly. I should have gotten her help a lot sooner. I shouldn't have disregarded it, thinking it was nothing severe. I should have done something. But I didn't...

I watched her slowly become a former shell of herself.

Things started off small...barely noticable.

Her having trouble sleeping, not staying focused with her work, and making small talk with herself.

Which I honestly thought of it as nothing. But things soon took a turn for the worst.

Like her moods and paranoid thoughts.

My mother's moods were all over the place. On somedays she'd be happy and full on smiling. Always active and staying up late saying she was to wind up to sleep. While other days, she'd be sad, and wouldn't want to get up from bed. She'd refuse to leave her room or even our place. And in the middle of the night, I'd hear her cry. It deeply unsettled me, but like the fool that I was I didn't go looking for help. I just thought she needed more attention from me. So I tried to stay with her more, and gave her comfort and support.I took care of her, forgetting everything else, except for her well-being. But my caring towards her didn't help much...and that distressed me. I felt like I was failing her as a daughter.

What distressed me even more were her paranoid thoughts.

God, those were the worst.

My mother always thought that she was being followed. That someone was out to get her. When in reality there was no one wanting to cause her harm. But everytime I would say this to her, she'd just get more agitated. And every day and night, she'd lock up all the doors and windows (multiple times) and double check all the rooms, before she would be able to relax. But even during her "relax" mode, she still seemed very on edge with herself.

I knew then, after her paranoid thoughts increased, that I had to seek major help...this was way beyond what I thought I could handle.

Before I was able to do so, my mother had her infamous break down. Right in the middle our living room.

It wasn't pretty...and it hurts to even think about it...

So let's just say that the whole scene was a terrible thing to witness.

And it was that very same night, that my mother had been taken to the mental hospital.

Although it was thanks to our neighbors for that. They were the ones who called the police. The police came thinking there was a murder or something going on. When they saw it was my mother just having a severe break down, and then with me briefly explaining the situation, they were able to connect the dots. Realizing that my mother needed serious medical help. Because even if she didn't harm me phsically, she was more than capable of harming herself. The cuts on her hands from smashing our TV and picture frames, were enough proof of that. And even though I was relieved that she was finally getting the help she desperately needed, I was ardently sad that she was being taken a way from me.

She was after all the only parent I've ever had in my life. It's always just been the two of us. So what's a daughter without her mother?

I say that she's the only parent I've ever had, because my father wasn't apart of my life.

You see I've never met my father. I didn't even know his name, or how he looks like. This was because my mother never liked to talk about him. Not in the slightest. He was like this unspoken topic between us. Completely taboo.

All I really knew about him was that my mother met him along her high-school years. Dated and then she got pregnant by him at the age of eighteen. And supposedly after she told him she was pregnant, he left her. Just like that.

Which I know was a horrible thing for my father to do to her. I mean getting her pregnant at such a young age and then leaving her? Not cool. Luckily for my mother her brother, aka my uncle Jim was there to help her out.

My father's abandonment didn't give me much hope of him being a good person. But despite my ambivalent feelings towards him, he was still my father. I couldn't deny the curiosity I had about his identity. It didn't matter if he didn't want anything to do with my mother or me...I still wanted to know who he was.

My mother, despite unwilling to talk about him, did tell me one time that one day, later on when I was way older, that she'd finally be open about him. When the time was right.

Except when was the right time going to be now?

My mother was now officially consisdered unstable. So I doubt if I asked her this question, that she'd be able to give me a coherent answer.

I guess some secrets just aren't meant to be told...

So since my father wasn't apart of my life, and my mother was clearly unable to care for me, that left only one person left to be my guardian.

My dear uncle, James "Jim" Gordon.

The uncle who I haven't seen since I was ten years old. The last time I actually saw him, was before he left for the army.

Six years ago...that's along time without seeing each other.

Although it's not like there wasn't any contact between us. My mother and him kept in touch. Plus there was phonecalls and letters as well. But since he left for the army, we haven't had the time to see each other face to face.

It wasn't until recently, when I learned that I would be living with him, that he had gotten a job in Gotham City.

Apprantly he was now the new homoicide detective there. Which in my opinion, I had mixed feelings about that. But I knew that my uncle Jim had a heart of gold. He had an act for doing the right thing. He was one of those guys that was all for justice and for putting criminals behind bars. And that to me was honorable.

So overall, my uncle Jim was a good guy.

Which was why I wasn't nervous about moving in with him.

Okay...maybe I was a little nervous.

Can you blame me though? I was moving to a whole new city. One I've never been to before, but knew about its crime rate.

Except, I was going to be living with a detective, so my safety should be guaranteed, right?

I sighed, blowing a piece of wavy blonde hair away from my face.

Perhaps I should of had some coffee before coming to the airport. Coffee always did help my nerves. Speaking about nerves...

My stomach started to turn a bit. The realization that I was leaving the city I grew up, hit me hard. Boston is the one place I consider my home. But here I was leaving...

I knew I couldn't stay here anymore...I was still a minor. Sixteen years old, so I needed a legal guardian.

Leaning against the waiting airport seat, I placed my hands on my lap. I absently started playing with the charm bracelet I had on my wrist. The charm bracelet that my mother gave to me. It was a reminder of how she use to be...before...well you know.

I ran my fingers over it, trying my hardest to think positive thoughts.

I knew if my mother was still herself, she would have told me to look at this experience in a optimistic way.

"Always look on the bright side. Things may seem hard now, but think about the sun that radiates light. That will get you through."

I began to feel better as my my mother's soothing humble voice entered my mind. The nerves that had been in my stomach began to go away, and I stopped playing with my charm bracelet. I gave myself a nod of determination, as the encouraging words of my mother went through my mind again.

"The light..." I muttered softly to myself. "Always think about the light."

"Now boarding flight 258, from Boston to Gotham. I repeat now boarding flight 258, from Boston to Gotham. Please enter through gate three. Thank you."

I heard the voice over-con announce my flight number. I got up from my seat and grabbed my suitcase and bags with me. I managed to get my plane ticket out and after doing that I took a moment to collect myself.

This was it.

I was about to leave my home and go to a new one. I was going to see my uncle, who I haven't seen in years. The nerves grew in my again, but I tried pushing them to the side. I let my mother's words go through my mind again. Feeling less distressed, I made my way towards the entrance of my flight. I paused at the doorway and took a deep breath.

Come on Winifred, you can do this!

Getting a hold of myself, I finally walked through the door. Upon taking my seat inside the plane, I started to feel anxious again. I couldn't help it. I kept wondering how my life with my uncle Jim in Gotham was going to be like.

Hopefully eventful...but I guess I'll just have to wait and see, won't I?