She’s folding laundry when the buzzer for the elevator sounds, and answers it thinking it must be a package for Kate, something she’s ordered online that needs to be signed for. She barely glances at the image of the young girl caught by the security camera, and her greeting – “Maggie Sawyer, can I help you?” – is just a notch above robotic. The “aunt” brings her up short, startling her out of the practiced, monotonous motions; it’s been a long, long time since she’s been called that.
Baffled, her eyes hastily scan the video, but she doesn’t recognise the nervous teenager fidgeting at the elevator. But she does recognise the name. Peyton is the only child of her oldest sister, adopted when Anna and Larry hadn’t been able to conceive their own. Maggie remembers her as a blonde-haired, green-eyed eight-year-old, more creative and outspoken than any of her cousins, and the memory starts an ache in her chest for the nine years lost since. A quick calculation puts Peyton at seventeen now, probably in the last years of school. But Maggie has nothing to put her here, in Gotham, at her doorstep.
But, whatever the reason, she won’t leave her out in the cold – definitely not in Gotham, of all places. Dread and hope constricting her chest, heart pounding, Maggie touches her finger to panel, first to let her niece in, then to transmit her voice over the speaker, her tone more brusque than she’d like, “Come on up, Peyton.”
There’s a moment or two there, in the SILENCE stretched between them, that she wonders if Maggie remembers who she is. It’s been ages since they heard from one another, longer than that since they’ve last seen each other. That totally RIDICULOUS thought ( because of course Maggie remembers her, why the hell would she even think that ) is pushed aside easily enough, chased away as soon as she gets the go-ahead to enter the elevator and come up. She doesn’t even have to press a button, its doors part for her as soon as she steps forward.
Her arms cross loosely over her chest as the elevator closes, emitting a soft hum as it starts its ascent. This is CRAZY, she thinks, but what about her life lately hasn’t been ? She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say or what Maggie’s going to say or how she’s going to REACT after all this time. She had this whole thing mapped out in her head on the way up to Gotham ( almost talked herself out of it, too, but a call to Brooke had kicked her ass back into it ) but as soon as she heard her aunt’s voice over that intercom, all that had gone straight out the window and scattered all over the lawn.
The elevator CHIMES and the doors split open once more, revealing another hallway with a door at the end. Anxiety grips her chest but she’s made up her mind ( and it’s too late to turn back now, even if she wanted to ), so she crosses the hall, takes a breath, and knocks on the door.
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