Title: Success Has Many Fathers
Author: Annie Oates
Fandom: Batman Begins
Pairing: Bruce
Rating: PG-15ish
Archive: Ask.
Disclaimers: Not mine, I'm a nasty little law-breaker.
Warnings: Alternate reality, racial epithet.
Summery: Figuratively, of course.
Feedback: Is welcome, in all forms.
Thomas knew, if something should happen to he and his wife, there was a hard road ahead for Bruce. He thought he’d save him the treachery and betrayal by willing Alfred to be Bruce’s guardian. He didn’t count on Richard Earl knowing the judge. Or more to the point, knowing where said judge had buried the bodies – figuratively, of course.
The papers ate it up, and they did make a lovely photo for the front page. The present and future of Wayne Enterprises on the steps of the court house. In the background, the small figure half-turned away wasn’t worth the notice.
Alfred returned to England shortly after, though he wrote every week, always hoping to hear back. Earl lit a fire in his private study and enjoyed his nightly brandy all the more.
Bruce had the finest tutors – hand picked by Earl, of course – and could often be found at the tower under the tutelage of the CEO, himself. He was thirteen when he first called Lucius Fox a nigger to his face. Lucius, ever stoic, asked if that was an ignorance Thomas Wayne would have bore.
“Thomas Wayne is dead.” Bruce replied.
Lucius resigned the next day.
Earl would often stand at his office windows, overlooking all of Gotham, Bruce at his side. He would weave tales about kingdoms and princelings, heirs and their domains and was always pleased with Bruce’s never-ending capacity to learn.
On Bruce’s eighteenth birthday, Earl invited Bruce to his study. They raised snifters of brandy and saluted – man to man. They repeated the ritual on the eve of Bruce’s graduation from Princeton. When Earl’s heart stopped beating, Bruce, ever the diligent ward, dialed emergency services himself. He patted Earl’s hand and smoothed his brow while they waited for the ambulance. It was touch and go for a while, but the doctors managed to get Earl stabilized. The paralysis however, remained. The medical director took pains to personally reassure Bruce that it wasn’t an entirely uncommon consequence of a stroke. She went on to describe the leaps in research – particularly where stem cells were concerned.
The next week Bruce started a fund and opened a new department under the umbrella of Wayne Enterprises. The papers ate it up. A lovely front page photo of Gotham’s Prince-crowned-King followed by remarks on how well the Wayne heir had tuned tragedy into hope.
Truth told, Bruce wasn’t all that surprised by Earl’s stroke. If Mr. Wayne could sometimes be found standing at his office windows with a faint smile as he looked over the city – well, goodness knew the man deserved a little peace. No, what surprised Bruce the most was that even with the corruption, the bribes – no one thought to check the brandy.
With a month passed and papers signed, a letter arrived. In his private study a fire was lit. Bruce sat back and thought of England. Figuratively, of course.
End.