#even the lunar in our system remembers me in poor taste

[official-bunbun]

Putting some feelings in the tags. Feel free to ignore but responses are also fine, i just want to say what i have to say

[thepeacetea]

Broken Angels Ch. 4

Hi everyone! It’s me again. I’m really glad that you guys like the last chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you again to everyone who liked, commented and reblogged! I couldn’t have done it without your guy’s encouragement. If i missed you in the tags, let me know and I will get you the next time. Again, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions please let me know! Anyway, hope ya’ll enjoy! Peace!

The Gotham City Police Department was always busy. Gordon could not, in all his years of service, remember a single, quiet day at the office. Today proved to be no different. Ever since the first video of the ‘crash’ was uploaded, the station had been flooded with calls and visitors. From reporters wanting statements to just people wanting to know what was going on. Needless to say, the station had turned into a mad house.

The girl, Marinette, had adamantly refused to be taken to the hospital to be thoroughly examined. Gordon hadn’t pushed the issue. The girl was already on edge enough as it was and she didn’t need another reason to panic. So they managed to compromise. Between Gordon and Spencer, they had convinced Marinette to allow a doctor come to the station. ‘Just to be safe.’ She was currently in one of the back offices, as far away from the chaos as Gordon could get her. Spencer and one of the female personal were staying with her. Spencer’s main job was to keep her distracted and try, discreetly, to get some information from her. But Marinette hadn’t spoken since she had arrived at the station. All she did was listen to whatever Spencer was going on about. She had started to doodle after an hour and currently had an impressive stack of drawings beside her.

The doctor had arrived around an hour ago and was currently examining her.

“Hill, tell me we got something on her teacher. We need to contact her stat, and Marinette’s not saying anything.” Gordon shouted over the clamour of the office. “And get those reporters out of the lobby! The GCPD does not have any comments.”

“Airport security is faxing everything over, it’ll be here in a few minutes. Jackson, you heard the chief, get those reporters out of here.”

“Once it comes through, I want you to find out where they’re staying and get in contact with that teacher. I don’t care if you have to call every damn hotel in the city, just get it done. We need to find out what happened and why she was alone.” Gordon ordered, his voice straining slightly.

Collapsing onto his desk, Gordon raked his hands through his hair, a frustrated groan making its way out. He could understand why the girl wasn’t talking. Anyone in her place was likely to do the same. While it was making things slightly harder on their end, Gordon couldn’t bring himself to blame her. The poor girl was terrified by just letting a doctor look at her. Heck, she wouldn’t even let Gordon leave. They had to bribe her with a giant bowl of skittles they had stolen from Jackson, and if he had an issue with his candy being stolen, he never should have left it in the breakroom.

“Commissioner?”

Glancing up, he found Dr. Allen, one of the doctors the GCPD had a contract with, standing by his desk, waiting to give Gordon her report on Marinette.

“How is she?” He asked, offering the her a chair. Dr. Allen all but fell into the offered seat, a long, drawn out sigh escaping as she did so. This caused Gordon to tense. He had known Dr. Allen for years, and she only ever did this if something was seriously wrong.

“As far I can tell, nothing’s broken. But I can’t be sure until I do an x-ray, and . . .”

“ . . . And she refuses to go to the hospital.”

“Exactly. Now as I said, there doesn’t appear to be anything broken. The swelling on her cheek will go down, but she will have severe bruising for weeks. She also has severe subconjunctival hemorrhaging in her right eye. It should heal fine, but I would suggest that she goes to see an eye specialist to make sure.”

“Subconjunctival hemorrhaging?”

“Broken blood vessels in the eye. Like I said, it should heal fine, but a good precaution would be to go seen an eye doctor.”

A beat of silence stretched  between the two. Dr. Allen ran a hand through her hair, unconsciously biting her lip, a habit she had when she was contemplating what to say. Gordon just waited. Whatever she had to say was important enough for her to hesitate. When she finally spoke, she chose her words carefully.

“Physically, the girl’s going to recover fine. But mentally? Emotionally? Gordon, I’m gonna be frank, something’s wrong. I don’t know if it’s an environment or a relationship or something else, but something is wrong. Gordon, I’m scared for her. Something is going on and she needs help.”

As Dr. Allen spoke, her face revealed so much concern that it was almost palatable, leaving a sour taste in Gordon’s mouth. He didn’t even bother to mask his sigh. He agreed with her observations. He knew something was wrong, but unless they had solid evidence or if she told them what was going on, there was very little they could do. She wasn’t American. They couldn’t just send social services to investigate. They needed to have something solid in order to intervein. If they didn’t, they could have a very messy international affair on their hands.

“Listen Gordon, I have to get back to the hospital. But keep me informed, ok? Do some digging. Try to get more information on her.”

“What do you think I have my department doing?” Gordon said, a small, teasing smile making it’s way onto his face

“Just keep me informed.” With those final instructions, she gave Gordon on last smile before leaving.

For minutes after the departure of Dr. Allen, Gordon just sat at his desk. The buzzing of the office faded into the back round as he thought about what Dr. Allen said. While he had been sometimes known to misjudge something, she had never been wrong in an assumption. That alone worried him. If she noticed and brought it up to him personally, something was really, very, very wrong.

A stack of files slammed onto Gordon’s desk, knocking him back to the present. The bang caused everyone within a three desks radius to jump. Glancing up, Gordon found himself looking into the  triumph face of Detective Jessica Hoffman.

Detective Hoffman was new to the force. She had only been in service for six month. She was cocky, irritating, hardly ever listened to instructions if it involved her cases, but she was a good detective.

“Got something! And trust me chief, your gonna wanna see this.” Her voice nearly radiated with excitement.

“What is it?” Gordon asked, picking up the files.

“So I looked into the kid, you know, to verify that she is who she says she is.”

“We already did that, Hoffman. Airport security already confirmed. Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from Paris, France.” Gordan said, putting the file down. He didn’t have time for this.

“Ah, but that’s not her real name.”

That caught his attention. Looking up at her, Gordon tried to see if Hoffman was serous.

“What?”

“Dupain-Cheng is her adopted name. Her parents, Tom and Sabine, adopted her when she was nine. Before that, Marinette was in multiple foster homes. I mean a ridiculous amount. In the sixteen months she was in the system, that girl was in fifty-six different foster homes. That’s more homes there are weeks in year. Anyway, according to the paperwork, Tom and Sabine couldn’t have kids, and they adopted Marinette because she looked like their niece, who had died in a car accident. And get this, she’s not French. Not by birth. It was an international adoption. And guess where she’s originally from?”

“Where?”

“America.”

“Then couldn’t she speak English, Hoffman?”

“Think about chief, she was living in France for like seven years. She wouldn’t have had anyone to speak English with and she would’ve needed to learn French. It was the only language she was hearing and speaking for nearly eight years, it must have become her default.” Hoffman said, her hands moving as she explained. “But that’s not all chief, guess from where in America she’s from.”

“Hoffman,” Gordon growled. “I don’t have time for guessing games. If you have something to tell me, spit it out!”

By now, nearly the entire department was listening. Gordon didn’t get angry often, but this new detective was getting on his last nerves on an already stressful day.

“Chief, she’s one of ours.”

“. . .What?”

“She’s Gotham’s kid.”

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