Between Stripes

T H I R T Y

It was quite saddening to find that as I roamed the streets, nobody seemed to recognise me. Like at all. And everyone was constantly moving; there wasn't anyone milling round the streets, nobody stayed outside for long. Gotham had changed. Definitely.

Before, in every alley there was at least one hobo sat with a trashcan fire. Now, there was just the trashcans; no fire, nobody wearing a plastic bag.

And whoever I did walk by, they were tense. As if everyone surrounding them was a threat, not just me - an escaped lunatic from Arkham Asylum itself.

As I wandered the streets I realised, I had nowhere to sleep. I wasn't exactly prepared to become the plastic bag-wearing hobo with the trashcan fire. (Mostly because I didn't have a plastic bag.)

I soon gave up searching for a suitable place to sleep and chose a fire escape which clung to the side of a stack of apartments. Ascending the stairs I paid attention the the windows; you could tell the type of person who live there by a simple peer through a window. After a few levels I found an old woman's apartment, messing around with the window for only a moment I slipped inside.

The apartment was, admittedly, cute. It was mostly cream but adorned with pastel colours. There were two plush armchairs which sat in the centre of the room, one was a light lilac and the other was baby pink. Between them was a small, mahogany, antique coffee table. Lining the walls was many shelves which had all sorts of clutter on them; some had vinyl stacked messily; some had dust covered books; some had photo frames from another life; others had pretty little ornaments, which like most other things, had blankets of dust covering them.

On my left, the kitchen was attached. It had a similar theme to the living room. The counters were cream but the fridge was a very light mint green; there were two identical ovens, both were baby blue with metal hobs. The shape that the counters made was an upside down U and on one side three bar stools were tucked. They seemed to be in pristine condition but dusty, like most of the apartment. Opposite the counters was a small table which had four chairs surrounding it. On top of the table a variety of flowers were clustered in an old, white vase with golden designs.

Yes, from what I had seen of the apartment, it was nice.

"Who's there?" A gentle, elderly woman's voice came from behind the door which was half open, across from me.

Stupidly, panic rushed through me.

"I said-" the woman's voice grew louder until it stopped completely as she walked to  the doorway.

She was almost as adorable as the apartment. Her silver hair was trapped in an army of small rollers. She was wrapped up in a fluffy lilac dressing gown. Fluffy, pink slippers were on her feet. A walking stick was clutched in her hand, tightly.

"Oh hello dear, how can I help? You look freezing, let me get you a cup of cocoa." She immediately began mothering me, but not smothering. Slowly she made her way to the kitchen and as she reached the doorway she paused.

"My daughters old clothes are in the door furthest right, hopefully they'll fit you." She smiled sweetly and headed into the kitchen.

My jaw dropped. She obviously had no clue who I was and possibly didn't care. Maybe she wanted the company? I didn't know but I took my chance and went to get changed.

Her daughter's room was clearly out of use, dust covered everything in that room. A few posters were still on the walls; they displayed old bands and celebrities who were now proud parents.

The wardrobe didn't have a spectacular collection of clothes but I made do - after all they were better than my Arkham clothes

I met up with the old lady again in the kitchen. As she saw me she smiled again (a cute thing that made me want her to adopt me on the spot).

The cup of cocoa rested between my palms as we talked.

"I'm Maurine, by the way. What's your name?" She said offering me a plate of cookies which I took a couple.

"I'm G-" I paused, considering lying but I couldn't lie to dear Maureen, "I'm Georgia Fishwick."

"Nice to meet you dear, why don't you tell me your story? I know you're not just an average girl breaking into my apartment. I'm not a stranger to the apparel of Arkham."

My throat tightened but I told her. I told Maureen everything I could remember. The drugs had addled with my brain and memory, leaving some things fuzzy.

When I'd finished she simply sighed and smiled again.

"You've been through a lot my dear, but if you'll let me, I'm happy to help you." She stated and my eyebrow raise made her continue to talk. "My son is currently there, he's been moved from a regular prison - I can't remember the name for my life. Prison isn't a place for anyone and he's always had some issues but pills sorted that out and prison didn't supply them. Anyway it turns out he didn't believe in banks either, like myself, and left all his money in his mattress in his apartment. His boys delivered it all to little old me, wishing me luck. I've known all of them since they were tots and they're lovely deep down. Anyway, I was left with all this money and I've never known what to do with it."

"So... you're helped an insane escapee?" I asked, my brows furrowing together.

"If you let me." She smiled and sipped her cup. I grinned.

"Course I will Maureen! But you've gotta underst-"

"You can't leave the house? I realise honey, I'll go out and get you whatever you need. Pills included."

My grin widened.

"You gonna help me lose my crazy?"

"You seem lovely without them but they'll help you more in here." She said and tapped the side of her head.

"Thankyou Maureen." I smiled and she simply smiled along with me.

So this was what having a mother was like.

A.N.
Yoyoyoyo! I'm out of the writers block sinkhole! And meet Maureen! She's like the mother figure Georgia deserved - badass and sweet simultaneously!

Hope you like this chapter and Maureen, see ya sooooon!!!