Bruce decided to drive through Gotham rather than take the highway bypass
home. There was something to be said about the city; a certain sparkle he
saw despite the nightly violence he heard about on the news. He drove
along the docks, past the tiny inner-city clinic his dad founded, and even
through the downtown, passing by Wayne Enterprises. The high-rise stood
proudly on the Gotham skyline, a symbol of honest business and the American
dream. The front of the complex sported a new fountain; a gaudy cherub-
laced stone decoration that seemed horribly out of place with the rest of
the landscaping.
Bruce, of, course, had heard the whole story how Martha saw the fountain in nearby Bristol's town square. To Thomas's dismay, when the town decided to dismantle it she bought it. He thought it was the ugliest thing he had ever laid eyes upon and forbid his wife to even think about putting it anywhere on the grounds surrounding Wayne Manor. Martha seemed to give in to her husband's whim but Thomas went to work the next morning to find the fountain set up right outside WE headquarters. Being a stubborn man, Thomas could not admit to his wife that he'd rather have the crumbling water waster stinking up a back lot of his estate rather than in downtown Gotham's business district, so the fountain remains and probably will for years. Bruce couldn't say he found the fountain especially aesthetically pleasing but he would never admit that to his mother.
It was around dinnertime when he finally pulled up to the iron gates of his family's ancestral home. It had been a two-day drive from California and he was exhausted but he never failed to see the beauty of the large mansion, from his mother's prize-winning rosebushes in front to the rocky forbidden areas in the back. He loved to be home; only wishing that he could avoid the constant lectures his father seemed to throw his way.
'Maybe he'll let up this time. After all, he thinks I'm in school." Bruce mused to himself, only half-believing.
He pulled up the long drive of Wayne Manor, expecting a welcome party to meet his Porsche but as he got towards the house, no one, not even Alfred, was outside to greet him. He stopped in front of the large doors and went to get his bags from the trunk.
"How quickly they forget." He muttered, but before he had to shuffle things to get his keys out the door opened and Alfred stepped out happily.
"Good Evening Master Bruce!" He chirped. "How was your trip?"
"Long," Bruce managed with a weary smile. "Next time I spout off about driving cross country, talk some sense into me."
As the two talked, Alfred made several attempts to grab Bruce's bags but the younger Wayne, aware of the sneaky intentions would rotate his body, keeping his things just out of reach of the older gentlemen. This was a silent war of wills between the two friends. Bruce had been trying, with no success, to carry his own luggage since he was fifteen. This time, however, he was sure he could get away with it.
"Where is everyone?" Bruce asked curiously, looking around at the quiet halls of the manor.
"Your mother had a meeting with the Garden Society and your father is in his study."
Bruce nodded and headed to the steps, almost sure that he would make it to his room unfettered. Alfred, ever the strategist, chose at that moment to drop the bomb.
"You father does wish to speak to you as soon as possible. He looked quite distressed."
Bruce froze in place giving Alfred a clear shot for the luggage. He was halfway up the steps before Bruce managed to ask, "Is he mad or upset?"
"He's.concerned sir." Alfred answered before disappearing down the upstairs hall.
Bruce shut his eyes and sighed. He was far too tired for a showdown tonight but it looked like he had no choice. He made his way slowly to his father's study, hoping that he could fins some sort distraction on the way; whether it be a falling chandelier or damsel in distress. When no distraction came, however, he took a deep breath and opened the door to his father's study.
***** See the Wayne tempers flare in the next installment aptly entitled "Deception".
Bruce, of, course, had heard the whole story how Martha saw the fountain in nearby Bristol's town square. To Thomas's dismay, when the town decided to dismantle it she bought it. He thought it was the ugliest thing he had ever laid eyes upon and forbid his wife to even think about putting it anywhere on the grounds surrounding Wayne Manor. Martha seemed to give in to her husband's whim but Thomas went to work the next morning to find the fountain set up right outside WE headquarters. Being a stubborn man, Thomas could not admit to his wife that he'd rather have the crumbling water waster stinking up a back lot of his estate rather than in downtown Gotham's business district, so the fountain remains and probably will for years. Bruce couldn't say he found the fountain especially aesthetically pleasing but he would never admit that to his mother.
It was around dinnertime when he finally pulled up to the iron gates of his family's ancestral home. It had been a two-day drive from California and he was exhausted but he never failed to see the beauty of the large mansion, from his mother's prize-winning rosebushes in front to the rocky forbidden areas in the back. He loved to be home; only wishing that he could avoid the constant lectures his father seemed to throw his way.
'Maybe he'll let up this time. After all, he thinks I'm in school." Bruce mused to himself, only half-believing.
He pulled up the long drive of Wayne Manor, expecting a welcome party to meet his Porsche but as he got towards the house, no one, not even Alfred, was outside to greet him. He stopped in front of the large doors and went to get his bags from the trunk.
"How quickly they forget." He muttered, but before he had to shuffle things to get his keys out the door opened and Alfred stepped out happily.
"Good Evening Master Bruce!" He chirped. "How was your trip?"
"Long," Bruce managed with a weary smile. "Next time I spout off about driving cross country, talk some sense into me."
As the two talked, Alfred made several attempts to grab Bruce's bags but the younger Wayne, aware of the sneaky intentions would rotate his body, keeping his things just out of reach of the older gentlemen. This was a silent war of wills between the two friends. Bruce had been trying, with no success, to carry his own luggage since he was fifteen. This time, however, he was sure he could get away with it.
"Where is everyone?" Bruce asked curiously, looking around at the quiet halls of the manor.
"Your mother had a meeting with the Garden Society and your father is in his study."
Bruce nodded and headed to the steps, almost sure that he would make it to his room unfettered. Alfred, ever the strategist, chose at that moment to drop the bomb.
"You father does wish to speak to you as soon as possible. He looked quite distressed."
Bruce froze in place giving Alfred a clear shot for the luggage. He was halfway up the steps before Bruce managed to ask, "Is he mad or upset?"
"He's.concerned sir." Alfred answered before disappearing down the upstairs hall.
Bruce shut his eyes and sighed. He was far too tired for a showdown tonight but it looked like he had no choice. He made his way slowly to his father's study, hoping that he could fins some sort distraction on the way; whether it be a falling chandelier or damsel in distress. When no distraction came, however, he took a deep breath and opened the door to his father's study.
***** See the Wayne tempers flare in the next installment aptly entitled "Deception".