When a young journalist investigates Bruce Wayne's disappearance, he faces the wrath of the Roman. Underground and on the run, he makes some unexpected—and perhaps untrustworthy—allies along the way. Rachel/OC, set during and before BB.
AN: Ernestina-verse. While reading Ernestina isn't at all necessary to understand this fic, readers of both might recognize several OC's and/or plot lines. Rated T for language, violence, and sexual references.
I am deeply interested in the progress and elevation of journalism, having spent my life in that profession, regarding it as a noble profession and one of unequaled importance for its influence upon the minds and morals of the people. -Joseph Pulitzer
Liam Holden won Gotham's mayoral election by the proverbial landslide. Handsome, charismatic, none-to-young yet none-to-old, he radiated maturity and experience with a youthful, virile vigor. Conservative with money but liberal with ideas, the women and students loved him, and popularity polls projected his rise to a shining star not only in Gotham City's politics but perhaps nationwide as well. But by far the most important part of the vote, at least in Liam's eyes, was the working class.
He won their vote as well.
Liam Holden, despite his riches and fame, was a self-made man. No old, East Coast blood for him. The newspapers called him a 'Man of the People', and the cry caught on quickly and spread until hardly line of print didn't equate that title to his name. In the span of 2 short years running for office, Holden had gone from a well respected if little known CEO to an instant celebrity. It was understanding, then, that Gotham Gazette and Gossip would begin to poke and pry, and begin to give him more coverage than even Thomas Wayne. Gotham's Old Blood were like Britain's Royalty, and never failed to offer print, but the average, every day citizen grew bored of their predictive antics-especially Thomas'. Charity was wonderful, of course, and who could blame Wayne for spending all his time at the hospital for low-income children, providing free public transit, and cleaning up Gotham's parks and schools? But the public simply yawned, and turned their channels to Hollywood and reality television for their entertainment fix in American Idol and other 'follow your dreams' sort of ilk. It was then that the newspaper editors learned that entertainment had become the new opiate of the masses…and flashy new, every day faces could woo their minds and their money even more than those already 'established' ever could. Liam Holden represented Gotham's Nouveau Riche, an everyday man who became something great, something admirable-and more importantly- something enviable. Ridiculously rich, married to a beautiful woman, taking interest in politics, with an adorable young son…he and his family were the perfect tabloid heroes, and began to be stalked relentlessly:
Christopher Holden meets the Obama girls! Get the inside scoop on this political playdate!
Mrs. Holden wears Dior to Charity Benefit Ball
Gotham's Own!
Unlike Thomas Wayne, Liam Holden didn't mind the limelight. He didn't relish it, either, but it was a necessary part of the role he played, and he and his family could play the part well, so play it they did. Pale and prude Martha Wayne would never have looked so good in front of the press, posing and preening, smiling endlessly and waving like a Hollywood starlet, but Mrs. Clarissa Holden put even sex symbol Marilyn Monroe to shame with her curvy hips and wide, salacious smile. No, the Wayne family was simply too uptight. They seemed to accept the press' presence, but never sought to draw attention. Besides, young Bruce was just so sour in comparison to Holden's vivacious, ruddy, and be-freckled darling. Christopher Holden had grown up in front of cameras, and wasn't afraid to smile or wave. 'The Truman Family', as one parenting magazine openly mocked, 'places their young child in the limelight and uses him for press and publicity. One can only speculate what sort of adolescent indulgences Gotham's populace will be forced to put up with when 'Gotham's Own' comes of age.'
But Liam Holden, PhD in Business and Computer Engineering, wanted only the best for his young son. Growing up in poverty, working his way from the streets through college and then to the head of a multi-million dollar technology industry Holden vowed his son would never have to suffer the way he did in anonymity and despair. "The best money can buy," Holden repeatedly said. "My money. Well-earned." Young Christopher was taught and adored by private tutors, music instructors and coaches since the time he could walk. 'Only the best' was Holden's mantra, and one he adhered to with religious tenacity. Those who knew him best learned quickly not to question, and those who did question found themselves quickly estranged.
Yet despite these differences, Liam and Thomas still shared the same social circle-Gotham's elite and obscenely rich-making their meetings both inevitable and often. They spoke over champagne luncheons and philanthropic benefits, concerts and galas, yes; but they rarely conversed. Broad, sweeping toasts to health, happiness, and a better world for tomorrow comprised the greater half of their coexistence.
But one day they did converse. Or rather, Thomas spoke, and Liam actually listened. It was a public engagement, an educational address, and it the closest thing to a real conversation the two men ever shared. Thomas took the stand before thousands of parents, teachers, the necessary mix of minority and underprivileged children and the audacious press because he was the philanthropist whose donation made the smaller teacher/student ratio in the primary school system possible, and Liam was the politician whose job it was to show up at public functions of whatever import to establish the government's 'full support and cooperation', whatever that phrase might actually mean. But it was what the media had come to expect of him, and what the people had come to expect of the media, so he, Clarissa and even young Christopher fulfilled that obligation without complaint save mild ennui.
Wayne's address was abrupt and unexpected. "Private schools aren't good enough," He stated simply in his mild manner. "They're not good enough for my son to attend for thousands of dollars a year when he has access to a free educational system given as a federal right to children in this country. They're not good enough because they are a compromise. An admittance of failure with nothing done to rectify nor apologize, simply an admittance; and complicity with that admittance without action is both irresponsible and cowardice. And I for one will not be called a coward. There is simply no excuse I or any other parent can offer for accepting anything less than the best from the school systems that tax-payers well-earned money is being used to support. Where that system has failed it is the fault of irresponsible parents, and irresponsible school districts that do not accept public accountability. This is unacceptable. This cannot continue. The welfare of America's children and the future of this country's science and industrial sectors has been jeopardized. We must all do what is necessary. We must all do what is right. If money is the issue, then our government needs to supply the funding not from property taxes but an equilateral source. Our citizens must be willing to pay higher premiums for higher quality. If teaching staff is the issue, then we must re-evaluate, and make necessary changes not based on tenure or affirmative action but ability. Whatever the price, whatever the sacrifice, we must all be willing to make it. Because we can no longer be complicit. We can no longer by compliant. We can no longer sit idly by and either ignore or accept this mounting burden and the toil it has placed upon our youth."
Thomas sat to no ovation, and only scattered, scarce applause, in which young Christopher-to his father's good credit-politely participated. This man, this one man, Liam realized, was powerful. His simple speech left a room of Gotham's movers and shakers, shapers of public opinion and policy, utterly dumbfounded. A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed. A 'celebration of greater collaboration' would have been appreciated. But criticism? Open criticism in front of live press, well, that was another matter. It came as little wonder, then, that Wayne had never sought to be a politician. Compromise was the necessity-the sacrifice for the greater good-that kept America's public policy running.
At that time Liam only listened. Didn't comprehend, didn't act, simply heard and began to ponder. Raising taxes certainly wasn't a popular choice, and the re-distribution of wealth across school districts was a matter of federal, not local politics, and one that had the GOP screaming socialism-the equivalent of career suicide. Yes, he heard Thomas Wayne, but as a politician many other voices had his ear as well, and as the months went by time between family, business, and the ever-increasing expectations of the uneasy populace kept Wayne's words and idealism from his fullest attention.
Then something happened in Gotham City. Something that made even the Titans like Liam stop in their tracks and tremble. On the day that Thomas Wayne died, it was as if Atlas had shrugged, and the whole world teetered on the edge of the brink. And if she should fall, what then?
On 'the day that Gotham wept', Liam Holden finally found his reply to Wayne's great words. But he feared, as most did, that whatever should come next for Gotham City would be far too little, and far too late.