"Gotham"

A 'Smallville' fan fiction

All characters are owned by DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and their respective partners.

'Superman' was created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

'Batman' was created by Bob Kane

Timeframe: The summer between "Vortex" and "Heat" in season two

Disclaimer: I own plenty, but not these characters (not even Kaminski, not yet anyway…)

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: Instead of having Bruce Wayne come to Smallville, I wanted Clark Kent to come to Gotham. I wanted to re-imagine Batman's origin to a very short extent. You will see many, many of the same things about Batman's past you've always heard. But if you look at it, there is room to grow in the origin of Batman, and since Smallville is all about origins, why not introduce another of the World's Finest? I'm not going to pull a JJ Abrams and make Bruce homosexual, have Alfred be a robot, or the existence of Wayne Enterprises a mere myth. I loved these characters since I was very young, starting with Batman: The Animated Series and with this fiction I am just putting the characters in different places. What if Clark Kent witnessed the murder of Bruce's parents, and who exactly was behind it? I'm only bringing you a "what if?" story that hopefully will entertain and make you happy when it ends.

Six: Landslides and Reflections

           

            Lex just stared at the television, he didn't move. Maybe it was shock, or maybe it was utter sadness. He just listened.

            "…The two hit men involved, whose names have not yet been released by Gotham PD, have been charged with first degree murder and are being kept in the maximum security wing of the local penitentiary. Thomas and Martha Wayne, the wealthiest married entrepreneurs in Gotham City, are survived by their only son… Bruce Wayne." The anchor flipped around her papers and turned to the anchor sitting next to her, "This is just awful, murdered in cold blood like this."

            "Yes, definitely a day to go down in the history of Gotham City," the anchorman frowned, "We here at the station speak for the city when we wish Bruce and his extended family the best of luck."

            Lex turned off the television and turned to the enormous window overlooking the city. The sun was bursting through the horizon; the blue of the sky was becoming a hazed yellow. He walked up and pressed his hands against the glass, feeling the sun's pulsating energy against his face. The meditation was interrupted by his phone, his father.

            "I'm on my way," Lionel sighed.

            "Why? The Waynes are not your next of kin."

            "Lex, haven't you learned by now that it doesn't matter who the person is… as long as you show up to their funeral people won't suspect you as being a heartless - "

            "What are you afraid of dad, someone thinking you are conniving?"

            "I want to show respect."

            "In light of business."

            "Of course."

            Lex clapped the phone shut and slowly set it on the counter, standing motionless, unable to comprehend what was going on.

            "If I wanted a vacation from hell I would go to Disney World," Lex turned to Clark as he walked into the room.

            "Beautiful morning," Clark pointed to the sunrise out through the enormous window, "I suppose you heard…" He frowned, sitting onto the leather sofa and gazing at Lex.

            "I don't know what to say," Lex looked down at the floor, "This is the last thing I expected to happen." Clark just looked at him, "You know, the last time I saw Thomas or Martha was seven months ago. They were so happy, so loving, we just all sat down at the table and had dinner. Thomas was shoving business hints at me the whole time, Martha always referring to the fact that I need a wife."

            Clark laughed, "Perfect memory…"

            "I guess so," Lex paused, picking up his keys, "We should…" his voice cracked, "…go see Bruce." He coughed and walked out the door. Clark got up and trailed behind him, Lex didn't need this, not today, not ever again.

            "Is this straightjacket necessary?" Kaminski grumbled.

            "You just killed four people, it is completely necessary," the friendly Michelle glared from behind the protective glass.

            "I told you, I did not kill anyone."

            "Right, but I'm sure that other guy we found did. And we are awful confident that you hired him…"

            Kaminski stomped his foot, "I am not speaking with you, not until I get my lawyer."

            "You started it," She frowned, turning and waving to the guards, "Have fun boys…"

            Outside the door she met up with the rookie, Dave, and he handed her some coffee.

            "How did the interviews go?" She smiled, "Don't answer that."

            "There's something I need to show you back at the station."

            "What is it?" She looked at him puzzled.

            "Well, it is very strange," he smiled, such a tease, "but also highly irrelevant."

            "Irrelevance is good, has anyone talked to the son?"

            "If by son you mean Bruce Wayne, no, but his lawyer will be meeting with him along with me."

            "You have fun with that, I've had enough trauma for the day." She walked with him out of the prison and back to the station.

            "These couldn't have hit a wall, there would be markings…" She frowned, staring into the microscope. "Has anyone seen these?"

            "Only some of the other guys working at the scene."

            "Good, let's try and keep it that way shall we?"

            "Let's, and let us also go get some lunch." He zipped the bag of crushed bullets, the same that had hit Clark's hand, and tossed them into a drawer.

            Bruce stood glaring out the window. He watched the little sparrows play games with one another on the telephone wire, the little old lady struggling to carry her grocery bag, and the countless cars zooming down the street. He was now aware of how precious life was. Every other thought was his parents; he looked down at the floor. Pictures flooded his mind as the bruise on his face pulsated with pain.

            "Bruce…" Lex coughed from the doorway.

            "You picked the perfect time to come visit," Bruce smirked, his eyes flooding with tears, "I want to believe this is not all my fault…"

            "It isn't, there's nothing you could have done," Lex walked up closer behind him, Clark taking a seat in the corner. "When my mother died my father told me there is always something good to come of tragedy…"

            Bruce wiped a tear with his sleeve, "Well, whatever good is coming, it has yet to show its face." Bruce stared at the wall, he may as well tell them, "I was awake…"

            "Awake?" Clark pondered, this could be bad.

            "Well, not completely, everything was dark," Bruce began to choke up again, "But I know I saw those bullets hit them, I saw the evil grin on the assassin's face! I've tried to convince myself I didn't see it, but I did! I saw their lifeless faces as they hit the ground! I could have gotten up! I could have stopped the damn bastard from shooting them!" Lex jumped up and put his hands on Bruce's shoulders.

            "Sit down…" He stared into Bruce's eyes, "What did you tell the police?"

            "They haven't seen me yet, but I told my lawyer I was out cold."

            "It is best you keep it that way then."

            "I figured so…" his pupils flared, "Kaminski, he's going to pay. His people are going to pay. I don't care what the hell I have to do; he will not rot in a cell at Arkham!" Tears rolled down his cheeks.

            "Well," Lex threw up his arms, "the psychopath deserves it!"

            "Listen Bruce, I'm very sorry, and I just want you to know that if you need anything, just ask…" Clark gave a calming smile; it was the Kent way of course.

            "Thanks," Bruce let out a little nod, "But Jesus, I'm going to have to run this company! I wasn't ready for this."

            "You can do it, if I could do it, you can…" Lex patted him on the shoulder.

            "And I will always be there for you master Bruce…" A familiar voice called from the doorway.

            "Alfred…"

            "Do not worry for a thing master Bruce; I have dealt with many losses in my day, though none this saddening… Your parents were brave and powerful people, and they would not want you to give up hope." Alfred sat down next to him and put his arm around Bruce's shoulder, "You are a strong boy, and your parents had no other. Their legacy depends on you, and I'm sure you are up for that challenge."

            "I hope so…" He looked around the room at Lex and Clark, and for a split second he felt whole. But the warmth dropped as the images ran through his head once again.

            "Hoping is a great start…" Alfred smiled, "Now a charming gentlemen named David from the Gotham Police is here to ask you some questions, you don't mind?"
            "No…" Bruce nodded, looking at the doorway.

            "Then we'll leave you two alone to talk," Alfred assumed this, motioning his eyes for Clark and Lex to leave.

            "Good luck," Clark smiled, getting up.

            "I'll see you at the service Thursday," Lex offered a small wave and smile, closing the door behind him.

            Bruce looked back out the window. Staring at his reflection, he no longer saw the son of Gotham's richest man, but Gotham's sad, lost, and alone heir to Wayne Enterprises. Astounded by his reluctance, Bruce just stood frozen in time waiting for more questions, preparing for more lies, and expecting more pain.