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Chapter 2

Part 1

Welcome Home

"What the fuck are you doing, Crane?"

The same question. Over and over. That little voice in his head had been plaguing him ever since he'd left Tamara, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shut it out.

"I know what I'm doing," he growled, rolling over in bed and trying desperately to get comfortable so he could finally fall asleep.

"Well don't fucking fall for her, whatever you do. We don't want you going soft on us, do we, pal?"

He groaned, punching his pillow. He just wanted sleep. "Leave me alone," he muttered.

"Sure – for now. Better not go dreaming about her, though, Crane, because I'll know if you do…"

"So how was it?"

Tamara rubbed her eyes sleepily, yawning as she shuffled into the dining room.

"How was what?" she asked, as she sat down at the table next to Bruce, pulling his copy of The Gotham Times away from him to read for herself.

"Your date," he teased.

She looked up from the paper to glare at him. "If you're going to be like this every time I go out with a guy, you can piss off back to Bhutan."

He laughed. "You never were a morning person, Tammy."

She gritted her teeth. "Don't call me that."

"Call you what? Tammy?"

She rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore him, and instead pouring herself a glass of orange juice from the jug in the centre of the table.

"It went very well, thank you."

Bruce nodded, satisfied. "So, Jonathan Crane, hm? He must be pretty well-off, if he was taking you to The Fox Gardens."

Tamara stared at him, confused as to how he knew Jonathan's name, but Bruce simply gestured to The Times and Tamara could only assume her date had made it to the society pages, as she'd predicted last night. "Oh. He's not. I don't think we're going to be going there again."

"He must like you a lot then, if he's taking you somewhere so out of his price range."

Tamara shrugged, turning a page of The Times lazily, not really reading it. "I don't think he quite realised how out of his price range it was."

"You didn't end up paying for it, did you?"

"I paid for the wine and the tip."

"So you paid for the majority of it."

"Oh, go fuck yourself Bruce."

He laughed, standing up and kissing the top of her head. "That will have to wait until later."

"Why, where are you going?" she asked, looking up at him.

"To pay a little visit to Wayne Enterprises."

Bruce wasn't entirely sure how to feel as the Rolls drove through the streets of Gotham. Sad, he supposed. Gotham wasn't how he remembered it. It was even more decayed than it had been when he was a child, and it had been pretty bad even then. The sadness began to give way to anger, but the car had pulled up in front of the Wayne Plaza before Bruce had time to act on his feelings. The Plaza was directly in front of Wayne Station, which was eerily deserted and completely derelict. Bruce got out of the car, staring at the sight before him.

"Is it closed?"

"They still run a token service out of respect for your father," Alfred replied, climbing out of the car himself.

"Respect?" Bruce echoed, his voice low. Perhaps he wasn't totally prepared for just how much Gotham had changed.

Bruce had brushed his demons aside and continued with his day, instructing Alfred to drive him to Wayne Tower, as planned. He'd only been to the Tower a few times when he was younger. Since his parents had died, he'd refused to step foot in the place. Luckily though, it hadn't changed much since he was a boy and he easily found his way to the outer office. A young, attractive assistant was sat at her desk – he supposed some would call her beautiful. It seemed that Wayne Enterprises hadn't changed quite as much as the rest of the city.

"Morning," he greeted her casually.

She got to her feet instantly.

"Sir, you can't go in there," she told him.

Bruce turned to her and smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm here to see Mr. Earle, you see."

She nodded slowly, and Bruce could tell that she recognised him, but was having difficulty placing a name to his face. "Name?" she asked.

"Bruce Wayne."

She gaped at him in shock. "Mr Wayne, I-"

"Do you think I'll be able to see Mr. Earle now?"

She nodded, her mouth still hanging open. Bruce smirked, her surprise amusing him. He was curious to see the reaction to his return from the dead from the rest of the board. He opened the door to the board room, and noticed that Mr. Earle, too, had changed very little. He looked up from his notes, annoyed.

"I'm sorry, can I…?" he trailed off as he took in the man standing in the doorway, completely dumbstruck. Every head in the board room turned to Bruce, who smiled at them, upping the charm.

"Sorry to barge in," he drawled. "But I was in the area…"

The room remained silent, until Earle finally managed to get to his feet and slowly made his way across the room to Bruce. He took Bruce's hand in his and shook it enthusiastically, clapping his other hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Bruce, my boy!" he cried. "We all thought you were dead."

"Sorry to disappoint. What can I say? 'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.'"

A few nervous chuckles broke out across the room, but the majority of the board simply stared at Bruce, incredulous.

"I'm sure you realise I can't stop the big machine," Earle explained hurriedly. "Too many wheels turning. We're going public."

"I understand," he nodded. "And I'll be handsomely rewarded for my shares, I'm sure, but I'm not looking to interfere."

Mr. Earle took this in, nodding slowly. "Can I ask where you've been?"

"You can ask," Bruce answered mischievously.

Earle smiled at him. "Well, perhaps you'll tell us your plans. Are you back to finish college?"

"Actually, I thought I'd get to grips with what we actually do around here, from the ground up – one division at a time."

"Any idea where you'd like to start?"

"Applied sciences caught my eye."

"Mr. Fox's department. I'll make a call, you should be able to start today."

"It'll have to be tomorrow actually, I've a one o' clock tee-off, and it took me all morning to convince the club to honour my old membership." Bruce grinned. "Apparently they don't have to meet the same high standards as you when it comes to declaring someone dead."

Mr. Earle smiled bashfully. "You look like him," he said, just as Bruce had turned to leave. "Your dad. This is where you belong, Bruce. Welcome home."

Tamara parked her car around the back of the courthouse and took a deep, nervous breath. She didn't know why she was so scared. During her time in university she'd given presentations in front of hundreds of students, and she'd done work experience before too – so why was this so intimidating for her? Of course, deep down she knew why. She wanted to impress Jonathan. She shook her head, trying to clear it of all thoughts unrelated to the task at hand and picked up her bag, stepping out of the car and locking it. As usual, she was completely punctual, arriving just a minute before half past one, giving her enough time to walk to the front of the building where she'd agreed to meet Jonathan. Thankfully, he was there on time too. He smiled upon seeing her and made his way towards her, and to her surprise gave her a quick hug as way of greeting. In all fairness, it was very brief and their bodies had barely touched, but it was a start.

"Good afternoon," he said softly. "You're looking rather colourful for a court case. I'm sure the underbelly of Gotham's criminals won't know what to make of you."

Tamara looked down at her outfit. It was a beige tailored Gucci suit with a sleeveless coral shirt underneath. All in all, she thought she looked quite understated.

He laughed slightly at the confusion written across her features. "You look lovely," he assured her.

"Thank you," she smiled, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. She pulled herself together quickly, reminding herself that this was work now, not a date. "Why are we here today?"

"I have to testify for Victor Zsasz. I believe that he's insane and therefore not in the correct frame of mind for Blackgate. The man needs to be moved to Arkham."

"And what do you need me to do?"

"Observe."

He lead Tamara into the courthouse, a building that she herself had never been to. For some reason, she'd always associated it with negative thoughts. She supposed it was because it was the last place Bruce had been seen by the public before he'd disappeared. Not that it mattered anymore – he was home, after all.

Tamara sat at the back of the room, whereas Jonathan was sat at the front. She envied how calm he was, despite speaking in front of all these people. If this was her, she would have been a nervous wreck by now. As she surveyed the room she was in, she noticed a familiar figure a few rows in front of her. It looked remarkably like Rachel Dawes, Bruce's old friend. Tamara hadn't seen her for at least five years, apart from occasionally on the news due to her job as Assistant DA. Tamara supposed that it only made sense for Rachel to be here, and made a mental note to catch up with her afterwards and tell her about Bruce. If there was one person she thought Bruce would want to know he was alive, it was Rachel.

"In my opinion, Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as to others," Jonathan stated calmly, "and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation."

"Rachel!" called Tamara, hurrying after her as the court room emptied. Zsasz had been declared insane and was being moved to Arkham. Jonathan had been successful.

Rachel turned around, searching for the source of the voice that was calling her. She'd matured slightly in the years it had been since Tamara had seen her, but she was still very attractive. She was two years older than Bruce, so Tamara supposed that she would be around thirty by now.

"Tamara? Oh my God!" she cried, wrapping her arms around Tamara. "What on Earth are you doing here? Last I heard you were graduating from GU!"

"I did graduate, I'm doing work experience now."

"At the courthouse? I thought you were studying psychology, not law."

"I was. Dr Crane invited me today. Just to get me into the swing of things before I begin at Arkham in September." At the mention of Jonathan's name, Rachel's face dropped.

"You're working with Dr Crane?" she asked.

Tamara nodded. "Yes, but never mind that now Rachel, I have to tell you-"

"Are you ready to go, Tamara?"

She turned around to see Jonathan standing behind her. "Oh, Jonathan. Yes, I suppose I am."

His eyes moved to Rachel. "Ah, Miss Dawes."

"Dr Crane," she replied coldly.

"Do you two know each other?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She's friends with my brother," Tamara informed him. "I've known her pretty much all my life."

"Was," corrected Rachel. "I was friends with your brother."

Tamara was about to open her mouth to tell Rachel about Bruce, but Rachel spoke up first.

"Dr Crane, can I have a word with you?"

He pursed his lips slightly. "Tamara, would you mind waiting for me outside?"

She narrowed her eyes at the two of them somewhat suspiciously before shrugging and making her way outside. She saw no point in getting in the way of whatever business they had to discuss.

"How can I help you, Miss Dawes?"

"You think a man who butchers people for the mob doesn't belong in jail?"

"I would hardly have testified to that otherwise, would I?"

"This is the third of Falcone's thugs you've had declared insane and moved into your asylum," Rachel hissed.

"The work offered by organised crime must have an attraction to the insane," he spat back.

"Or the corrupt."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at her and turned to face her boss, who was standing across the entrance hall from them.

"Mr Finch!" he called. Finch turned to face him. "You should check with Miss Dawes here just what implications your office has authorised her to make – if any."

"Sorry about that."

Tamara turned to face Jonathan, who'd appeared behind her without her realising. She was sat on the steps leading up to the courthouse, looking at the midday Gotham traffic before her, but she hastily stood up to meet his height.

"It's fine," she smiled. "What did Rachel want?"

"Nothing to worry yourself over," he said with a tight-lipped smile, and Tamara took this as a hint that he did not wish to discuss the subject further.

"Thank you for this afternoon."

He laughed slightly. "Thank you? I'm sure it must have been incredibly boring for you."

She shook her head. "No, not at all. I found it really interesting. I have to say though, Zsasz seemed pretty sane to me." Crane raised an eyebrow. "I know I don't really know what I'm talking about, but I guess there's still a part of me that expects insane people to be screaming and running around in circles. He just seemed…calm. Tranquil." She shrugged, unsure of what she was trying to say.

"You'll soon learn, Tamara, that insanity is not something that can be revealed by a mere glance. During the time I spent with Zsasz I discovered a man who was seriously mentally unstable."

"Fascinating," murmured Tamara.

"What is?"

"The way you can find out so much about a person from one or two conversations. It's incredible. I envy you, I'd love to be able to do that."

"You've spent three years studying psychology. I think you're probably a lot better at reading people than you may realise." He paused. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Nothing as far as I'm aware. Why?"

"How about that dinner at my house that I promised last night?"

Tamara grinned. "I'd love that."

Her response seemed to please him. "I'll send you the address later. Come over around eight?"

She nodded keenly. "I won't be late – I'm never late."

"Punctuality is a priority of yours." He didn't say this as a question, more as a statement. She supposed he probably knew more about her than she did and he'd only known her three days. "There is one other thing I promised you last night, you know."

"What's that?"

He rested both of his hands on her shoulders and leant down to move his face closer to hers, so close that she could feel his warm breath brushing against her lips.

"Why don't you guess?" he asked, his icy-blue eyes staring deep into her own. "We'll see how good you are at reading people."

Tamara licked her lips nervously.

He moved his mouth to her ear. "What do you think I want to do right now, Tamara?" he muttered, his husky voice sending chills up her spine.

"Kiss me?" she suggested, her voice quiet and shaky.

"Precisely," he replied, his voice humorous. Before Tamara even had a chance to register what was going on, he'd pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened for a moment before she relaxed into the kiss, shutting her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands slipped down to her waist and he held her to him gently as he continued to kiss her, softly and delicately. All too soon it was over, and he pulled away, smiling.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he nodded, before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction, leaving Tamara staring after him open-mouthed, her head still reeling from the kiss.

"You kissed her? You fucking kissed her? God Crane, so much for not getting attached."

Jonathan bit his tongue, exhaling deeply through his nose. He hated it when the voice piped up when he was in public as he had no way of talking back to it and shutting it up. He had no choice but to let it say whatever the hell it wanted to.

"I hope this is all part of some grand scheme of yours. As much as your dick might have just enjoyed that, you're not here to get laid, Johnny. You're here to do your fucking job," the voice spat. It was Jonathan's voice, but it was harsher and slightly more high-pitched, and it used far cruder language. "Hell, fuck her if you want to, I can't stop you – but it better be nothing more than that, Crane, we can't have you getting married to this girl now, can we? What use will you be to us then? Love makes men weak Crane, and you'd better not fucking forget that."

Author's note: Leave a review and let me know if you're enjoying it. :)