Disclaimer: No, I don't own Batman Begins. Nor do I own Christian Bale. Do you think I would be writing this if I had Christian Bale and his biceps?

Author's Note: Hello everybody! Sorry this took so long to load: I kept on having to try and find a natural niche for all of this to happen, so I had to do a lot of revising.

Reap the benefits of my OCD-ness!

Second Author's Note: Alright, because Christmas is a few weeks away, I decided to get my ass in gear, and finish up this chapter.

Third Author's Note: But before you venture out into the great unknown, be aware of this: my universe is completely Batman Begins-canon, and because Bruce is engaged, it doesn't really fit in with the rest of the Batman universe. Thus, I can happily throw out ALL those stuffy old movies, and keep solely my own imagination.

I'm warning you, that way when I describe the Bat-cave at the end of the chapter, you all don't blink your head a few times, then go "HUH?"

Aren't I sweet?

Fourth Author's Note: Right. Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter Seven: The Bat-Cave

"Bruce Wayne: mild-mannered billionaire . . . or winged avenger?"

Musing aloud, Audrey drew the tip of her finger across the closed top of the pitch-black piano before her. It was dustless, as were most things in Wayne Manor, but she got the impression that neither Bruce nor her sister spent much time playing. After all, her sister wouldn't go near a piano with a ten-foot pole . . . and Bruce didn't seem the musical type.

When she had reached this assumption, Audrey had no idea.

"Or is he both?" added Audrey thoughtfully, returning to the subject at hand.

She'd yet to breach the subject of Bruce's dual-identity with him personally, and she wasn't exactly looking forward to the task of actually speaking to him. For one thing, her memories of the night before consisted solely of a flying round of cheese and a mass of straight red hair held up by pearl hair pins.

And for another . . . she'd woken up this morning curled under her kitchen counter, wrapped in a knitted afghan, looking directly at the tip of his shoe. Luckily, he was fast asleep, and therefore didn't see her quickly pull herself off the floor, smoothing her hair as she attempted to ascertain if she had done anything very embarrassing the night before.

All she had come up with was cheese and hair.

Wanting to gather herself into some semblance of order before confronting Bruce, she fled the kitchen in search of her bag, where she could find some peppermints to cure her morning breath and a comb for her ratty hair.

Instead, however, she'd gotten horribly lost, and eventually found the semi-abandoned library, tucked into a corner in what she had guessed to be the southwestern corner of the sprawling manor.

And there it was: an absolutely beautiful piano and it took Audrey the greater part of three seconds to remember that she hadn't played in ages. She was moving towards it before she even knew was she was doing, and now was attempting to control herself.

"Batman," she reminded herself quickly, snatching fingers from the piano.

"Talking to yourself?" Audrey didn't whirl around, but she was surprised enough to jump a little. She took in a deep breath, and then calmly turned to see Bruce standing in the doorway, hair slightly mussed.

. . . hair that had the tendency to curl into his eyes . . .

"I didn't hear anything," she replied. "Maybe you should get your ears checked."

"I think my ears are just fine, thank you," he said, walking into the library. "I suppose you'll want to talk about this, won't you?"

"Yes." Audrey didn't even attempt to be covert. "I suppose I do."

Bruce sighed, his nostrils flaring, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "What do you want to know?" He walk-shuffled to one of the bookshelves so he wouldn't have to look at her. "Why did I become Batman? Why didn't I tell Ronnie sooner?" He laughed mirthlessly. "Why do I dress up like a giant bat?"

Before she could stop herself, Audrey was saying, "Actually, I want to know who the red-haired woman in your bedroom was." Bruce froze in the process of running his finger down the spine of a copy of Don Quixote, stunned that she could even remember that, as drugged as she had been.

"Someone from my past," he replied, yanked back his finger, and turning to face her. He leant his body against the bookshelves to his back. "I didn't expect her to show up in Gotham." Here he looked a little frustrated with himself, as if it was his fault that the strange woman had appeared.

Then again, considering how little Audrey knew of the subject, perhapsit was his fault.

"Was that an attempt to close the subject?" demanded Audrey, plopping herself down on the piano bench. "Because that has to be the most pathetic attempt I've ever seen." She did a little backward leaning of her own, still a little tired, and landed her elbows with a clang on a random set of keys. They jangled loudly, off-key, and she quickly sat up, grimacing.

"I suppose it was," replied Bruce, with a grin. Devastatingly rakish, Audrey noted dully. It went with the hair nicely.

Ignoring a spark igniting in her stomach, Audrey turned pressed her fingertips to the ivory keys. "I'm a lobbyist, and I would hardly be good at my job if I gave up that easily. I want to know how you intend on keeping my sister safe and flying around the streets of Gotham at the same time."

"I wouldn't have asked Ronnie to marry me if I thought she would get hurt by being with me." Audrey snorted, and although Bruce couldn't see her smirk, he could hear it through her voice.

"You spend every night chasing down beasties; how many have gotten close to realizing your identity?" She ended her question with a harder note, a smidge of concern bleeding into her harsh words.

"I'm better at what I do than you think I am."

"Everyone has off days."

"So far I think my track record speaks for itself."

Audrey counter-attacked. "Then who's the redhead?"

Bruce sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair almost angrily. "I told you, she's someone from my past."

"Is she dangerous?"

"Did she look all that dangerous?"

"Answer the question. I may be able to accept that you love Ronnie, but I'm going to make sure you aren't putting her life on the line. Do that with your own; fine, it's your life. My sister, my baby sister, is another matter. Does Red know that you're Batman?"

". . . yes."

"Is she a beastie?"

". . . yes."

"Does she know about Ronnie?"

". . . yes, I believe she does."

Fingers trembling slightly, Audrey pressed two keys on the piano softly. "Is Red the jealous type? Would she be mad that you're getting married?" Part of Audrey was angry that Bruce had done this, entreated on her private life, made her sister fall in love with him, and made her loose control of the temper that she guarded so carefully. Another part, meanwhile, was cowering in a corner, fearing that something might happen to Ronnie or the rest of her family.

"Talia isn't the type to enact revenge. She'd attempt to seduce me herself, instead of hurting Ronnie." His voice softened. "Don't worry; your family is safe." Faintly wondering how he managed to both assuage her fears and make her decidedly uncomfortable, she began to press keys on the piano at random, hardly noticing when Bruce lost his balance as the wall behind him began to shift.

"Hey!" he cried, and Audrey whirled around to see self-contained billionaire Bruce Wayne tumbled head-before-heels through an opening in the bookshelves. There was a clang as he hit in head on something doubtlessly made of steel, and Audrey winced sympathetically.

"Secret passageway?" she asked, standing, regaining her voice. "That's really too cliché. I would've expected something a little more dignified from the richest man in Gotham." As Bruce, all flailing limbs, attempted to right himself and the large lump on the back of his head, she allowed herself a little giggle and amended, "Well, perhaps not from the richest man in Gotham who dresses like a giant bat and fights crime."

"I knew the bat thing would come up eventually," he muttered under his breath, gingerly reaching up to press the egg-sized lump on the peak of his head. "And could you have been luckier? There's something like a five hundred to one chance that someone randomly guessing would come to that combination."

"Hmm. Obviously you've never had a psychotic piano teacher. I had to do opposite C minor scales every day," remarked Audrey, deciding to be merciful and reaching out to grasp his hand. "Oomph. All that flying around and you can't even pick yourself up off the floor?" She allowed herself a large smirk.

"Opposite C minor scales?" asked Bruce, using her as leverage.

"Yeah. You know, C, C, D, B, E, A, F?"

"Er."

"I'll take that as a no," replied Audrey, huffing. She now had both hands wrapped around Bruce's wrist and was attempting to use the carpet as a buffer for her feet. She grunted, her feet slipping on the doubtlessly priceless Persian, and she fell onto Bruce with an audible 'thump'.

"Hmph!" Air was exhaled out of his lungs with a whoosh. "Thanks for all the help," he wheezed once he'd regained his breath.

"Don't go there," warned Audrey, her threat lessened by her position in his lap, her small body magnificently dwarfed by his. "You really don't want to. Many have gone before you, and faced true peril."

This, of course, was too much for him to resist, especially when combined with the reappearance of her signature haughty smirk. "What?" he asked, returning a smirk of his own. "Remark on your amazing ability to loose your footing?"

"All right," declared Audrey, narrowing her eyes. "You asked for it." A second later her hand was darting out and numerous, very expensive volumes were dumping themselves on his aching head.

"Hey!" he exclaimed for the second time in five minutes. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Punishing you," she huffed, having to stretch to reach additional books. "You went where I told you not to, and now I'm—"

She was cut off as there was an ominous creaking, and the platform behind Bruce dropped away. With a shriek, Audrey felt the billionaire beneath her give way, and her stomach in her throat, she hurtled down into the dark recesses of Wayne Manor.

She noticed, for a blinded second, that there was a book on the control-booth-esque machine in one corner – the sort of large, inches-deep volume that was part of a set of encyclopedias – pressing down on a series of buttons, but she was too busy clinging to the nearest stable object, in fear for her life.

With a bone-jarring thud, they landed.

Audrey was wrapped around Bruce like an octopus, her arms clamped around his neck; her eyes were squeezed shut, pressed into the curved place where his collarbone met his neck. "Are we dead?" she asked in a whisper, after a moment of silence that was lacking in proper explosions or funny-smelling smoke.

Bruce began to laugh, and the vibrating of his chest where it met hers had her eyes open in seconds, and she carefully detaching herself, so as to remove any more embarrassment for the way they had been intimately locked together.

"It wasn't that funny," hissed Audrey, belatedly smoothing down her hair once she was free and moving away. "How was I supposed to know that Wayne Manor had all sorts of interesting little additions?"

Bruce still laughed, and huffing, Audrey turned around to see where they were.

"This," she finally asked, after a moment's silence, "is your secret hide-out?"

"Yes," replied Bruce.

"What, are you adverse to a decorating scheme? Couldn't find a designer who had experiences with dark and dreary?" Audrey wrinkled her nose. "I thought Batman was all high-tech and gadgety." All she could really see were a few square lumps only slightly paler than the surrounding darkness, and a wardrobe, where no doubt the infamous Bat-suit was stored.

Bruce stood gingerly, old aches reinventing themselves in new bruises, and slapped his hand on a button a foot above Audrey's left shoulder. There was a buzz of electricity, and lights flooded the previously dank cave. "This," he announced, unconsciously leaning over her shoulder, "is the Bat-cave."

It was decidedly more impressive that a few lumps and a wardrobe.

Having trouble peeling her jaw off the floor, Audrey shuffled into the Bat-cave, eyes flickering from side to side. To her left was row upon row of helmets, guns, bat-shaped-throwing-thingys, and various other gadgets, and extended at least ten feet wide and nine high.

To her right were a collection of three Bat-suits, hanging in their cases with helpful fluorescent wall-lighting positioned as if highlighting a work of priceless art. Meanwhile, in front of her was a collection of computer screens, monitors, towers, tables, and other mechanical devices that she would have trouble identifying a use for.

But what finally caught her eye were not the weapons, the computers, or the costumes. Behind the information center was a large screen, and under that was a bumpy lump, covered by tarp and sitting there, vaguely unremarkable.

It was a car, and Audrey made a bee-line for it. Bruce still had his hands in his pockets, checking the generator that powered the lights down in the cave, but not in the house, and when he turned to see what the lobbyist was up to, she had vanished.

He heard a whoosh, and the sound of something hitting the ground, and when he whirled around to see what had fallen, he saw Audrey was standing in front of the car, hand to her mouth, the other clutching the tarp. "It's gorgeous," she said, almost to herself. "Admittedly, it has nothing on Bond's Aston Martin, but it's got a rugged thing going on."

"You like cars?"

Audrey was almost getting used to Bruce's annoying tendency to appear out of nowhere, and she hardly twitched when his voice came from over her left shoulder. "I don't know all that much about them," she admitted, "but you don't have to be a painter to like art museums, right?"

"I suppose," replied Bruce, a bit amused by her analogy. Also, it was ten o'clock in the morning, and she had yet to throw something at him, so he was this close to declaring the day a success. "You know," he continued after a moment, "this is hardly the most interesting car I have." He grinned as Audrey tilted her head upward to look at him, yellow-brown eyes spread wide. "Come and see my garage."

You know, mused Audrey as she dragged him to the service elevator, he's not that bad when he smiles.

So yes, all of you who guessed Talia al Ghul as my villainess are correct. Ding ding ding! Three hundred points and a life-sized gummy Bruce for you!

Seeing as how I don't read that many other Batman fics, I wasn't aware that she was such a popular figure. But I'd already added her into my plot, so I decided that I might as well be cliché and keep her there. She fits in nicely with the scenery.

This public service announcement comes to you from the Gotham Bureau for Fanfiction Safety:

Warning: some authoresses may resort to violent activities if their stories are not reviewed. Please review all stories you read, and keep the authoresses happy! This for your own safety. Thank you.