Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC.

Chapter 4

Part 1

Arrogant Asshole Celebrity

It was all over the news the next day. Carmine Falcone had been caught and taken in by the police. He'd been found strapped to a harbour light, his arms spread out wide. The beam of light had cast Falcone's shadows onto the clouds – in the symbol of a bat. It had been headline news: 'Bat Serves Up Crime Boss'. Bruce had gained the attention that he'd desired, bringing Batman to the public eye. Everything was going according to plan.

Rachel Dawes tossed the day's newspaper down onto her boss' desk, a smile etched into her features.

"No way to bury it now," she said.

"Maybe so, but there's still Judge Faden."

"I've got Faden covered," Rachel assured him.

"And this 'bat' they're babbling about?"

Rachel broke eye contact with Finch for a moment, uncomfortable as she remembered the previous evening.

"Even if these guys will swear in court to being thrashed by a giant bat, we have Falcone at the scene. Drugs, prints, cargo manifests. This 'bat' has given us everything."

Finch considered this for a moment, before smiling. "Okay. Let's do it."

Tamara marched into Bruce's room, pulling the heavy curtains open and letting the afternoon sunlight stream in. She'd been sent by Alfred to get Bruce up – as he put it, Bruce was 'more likely' to listen to Tamara than poor old Alfred.

Bruce groaned, reaching an arm up to cover his face. "Bats are nocturnal."

She rolled her eyes. "Bats might be, but three o' clock is pushing it Bruce, even for a billionaire playboy such as yourself. I guess there's a price for leading a double life."

She set down the tray that she'd been carrying, which had a particularly bland breakfast on it and the day's newspaper. She gestured to the newspaper, where Batman had made the front page.

"I guess your theatrics have made an impression."

"Theatricality and deception are powerful weapons, Tamara," Bruce quoted. "This is a start."

He sat up slowly. Whilst Tamara was fully dressed and had been for a few hours now, Bruce was wearing only a pair of loose pyjama pants. Tamara's eyes grazed over the bruises littering his torso and arms.

"You planning on getting a lot of injuries like that?" she asked. Bruce shrugged. "You might want to come up with an excuse for them," she suggested. "Polo, maybe?"

He glared at her. "I'm not learning polo, Tamara."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? So you have strange injuries and a non-existent social life. People are going to start wondering what Bruce Wayne actually does with his time and money."

Bruce considered this for a moment. "You know more about this 'celebrity' scene than I do. What does someone like me do?"

She shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. "In my experiences of dealing with men with far too much money…drive sports cars, date movie stars, buy things that aren't for sale."

Bruce looked at Tamara, nodding. He knew that everyone in the city knew his name, but it was hard for him to grow accustomed to the fact that everyone knew his sister's, too. He gulped down the glass of green drink Tamara had brought him, and she winced as she watched him do so. The stuff looked absolutely vile and was made up of mostly vegetable juice. What was wrong with orange juice? Then he clambered out of bed, standing up straight with his feet together, allowing him to fall forward to the floor and begin his daily routine of dizzyingly fast push-ups. Tamara watched him, concerned. This hadn't been what she'd been expecting from the return of her brother. Honestly, she'd prefer it if he became some sort of arrogant asshole celebrity rather than this masked vigilante. At least then she'd know that he was safe.

"Who knows, Bruce?" she sighed. "Maybe if you start pretending to have a bit of fun, you might have a little by-accident."

There was a situation at Wayne Enterprises.

"What kind of situation?" snapped Mr. Earle.

"Coast guards picked up one of our cargo ships last night," an executive explained nervously. "It was heavily damaged. The crew were all missing, and they're assumed to be dead."

"What happened?"

"The ship was carrying a prototype weapon. It was a microwave emitter, designed for desert warfare. It uses focused microwaves to vaporise the enemy's water supply. It looks like someone fired it up at sea, judging from the damage to the ship and cargo."

"What about the weapon?"

The executive shifted uneasily.

"It's missing."

"Are you seeing Jonathan tonight?"

Tamara looked up from the TV and nodded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Why? Are you going to talk me out of seeing him?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, not at all. Quite the opposite actually. What were you two planning on doing?"

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "I'm waiting until he calls."

"I have a suggestion for you."

Bruce sat down next to her on the sofa.

"What?" she asked, still suspicious. This was certainly a change from Bruce's attitude the night before.

"I took your advice to heart earlier, and I'm going down to one of the hotels in town for dinner tonight. How would you and the good doctor like to join me?"

Tamara shook her head. "I don't know Bruce, I don't think Jonathan would really be comfortable-"

"Nonsense!" interrupted Bruce. "Come on, you've got to introduce your boyfriend to your big brother one day. I'll go easy on him, I promise."

Tamara sighed, before nodding. "Okay. I'll call him."

"I'm so sorry Jonathan," she apologised down the phone. As predicted, he had not been impressed with her change of plans. "This would just mean so much to Bruce. Don't worry, he's not going to interrogate you or anything, I promise. Please, Jonathan?"

She heard him sigh and bit her lip, nervous. "Fine," he replied curtly. "Shall I meet you at the hotel?"

She allowed herself to exhale in relief. "Thank you, love. That will be fine. At around eight?"

"I'll see you then." He hung up. Tamara mentally cursed Bruce for this. If he was planning something, she'd kill him.

If it was possible, Bruce's hotel of choice had an even smarter dress code than The Fox Gardens had done. She never knew what to wear to places like that. Her final choice had been an intricately patterned shift dress with an exquisite embellished neckline.

"Tamara, would you hurry up?"

She hurried down the stairs as fast as her heels would allow, to find Bruce waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, dressed smartly in a suit. Now there was something Tamara hadn't seen for years.

"Gorgeous," she smiled, pausing to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Beautiful," he returned the compliment. He tugged on her arm gently as she made her way towards the front door, pulling her back slightly. "Tamara," he began, his voice low. "You haven't told Jonathan about…what I do, have you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not, Bruce."

"And you're not going to?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you." They began walking back to the front door. "I'll be driving us tonight, by the way."

"You?" she repeated. "In what car?"

He pushed open the front door, revealing a stunning Lamborghini Murcielago.

"When the fuck did you get this?"

"While you were getting ready," he shrugged. "Having a touch of car jealousy, are we?"

"You have no idea," she murmured, stroking the bonnet of the car. "Where's your date?"

"We're picking them up on the way."

"Them?" she echoed dubiously.

"You'll see," he replied, a twinkle in his green eyes.

Perhaps Bruce had taken Tamara's advice a bit too literally. His 'date' had ended up being not just one leggy blonde, but two – both European. Tamara had thankfully sat in the front with Bruce the whole journey, but she'd still had to endure the constant sound of giggling from the back, and whenever she turned to look at the girls, they'd be sat in one another's laps.

"You sure have taste, Bruce," she muttered.

"Play along," he winked, as they pulled up at the valet station of the hotel restaurant.

"Nice car," gasped a man walking past.

"You should see my other one," drawled Bruce.

Tamara, thankfully, had spotted Jonathan, stood awkwardly by the main entrance. He relaxed slightly upon seeing Tamara, and kissed her gently.

"You didn't warn me just how expensive this place was," he worried.

Tamara rested an elegantly manicured hand on one of Jonathan's sculptured cheeks. "Oh, don't worry. Tonight is all on Bruce."

"You must be Dr Crane!" Speak of the devil.

"And you must be the famous Bruce Wayne," replied Crane curtly, shaking Bruce's outstretched hand. "Thank you for this evening," he said politely.

Bruce waved a hand, brushing Jonathan's thanks aside. "Don't mention it. Thank you for getting my little sister threatened by Gotham's most wanted." Despite Bruce's cheery tone, there was a dark look in his eyes that would have broken a lesser man than Crane's resolve.

"Bruce!" cried Tamara.

"No, don't worry," smiled Jonathan curtly. "Your brother's right. I should really be more careful who I cross in the future. I suppose it's a good job that someone's taken care of Mr. Falcone."

Bruce nodded in agreement. "Terribly convenient. Now, shall we get something to eat?"

Tamara had only been to this particular restaurant once, when she was very young. It had been decorated quite differently since she'd last dined there – the tables were now set around an infinity pool. They were sat at a table with Mr. Earle and some of his guests – something which Bruce had not forewarned her about.

"I'm so sorry," she mouthed across the table to Jonathan. He'd simply smiled at her and rested a cold hand on her thigh underneath the table.

Perhaps inevitably, the conversation moved onto Batman, once the meal had been finished and everyone was on their third or fourth glass of wine. Tamara was beginning to feel like she'd need at least five to cope with the insufferable idiots she was sharing a table with, not to mention Bruce's dates.

"At least he's getting something done," one woman argued.

"Bruce, help me out here," a man said, exasperated.

Bruce turned away from his blonde dates, who'd been keeping him occupied for most of the evening. At his lack of attention, they stood up and made their way to the pool. Bruce smiled, turning his attention now to the woman.

"A man who dresses up like a bat clearly has issues," he laughed.

"He's put Falcone behind bars," shrugged Tamara, leaning back in her seat. She'd decided it was time she joined in on a conversation.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at this. "You support the Batman?" he asked.

"Well why not? It's not like the police have ever managed to do what he's doing."

"Precisely!" the woman cried.

"But now the cops want to bring him in," the man retaliated. "What does that tell you?"

"They're jealous," suggested Tamara.

Bruce's attention was once again drawn away from the conversation in the direction of the two girls. One of them had slipped off her dress and was lowering herself into the pool, whilst the other one, giggling, had begun to follow her lead. Tamara watched them, mortified. This hadn't been what she'd meant when she'd spoken to Bruce earlier that day. She'd changed her mind – masked vigilante was far better than this asshole that he'd seemingly become.

"If he's so benevolent," Bruce began, turning back to the table. "Then why does he hide his face?"

"Maybe he's protecting the people he cares about from reprisals."

Bruce nodded, considering the woman's response. Just then, the maître d' slid up to them, annoyed.

"Sir," he hissed into Bruce's ear, loud enough for the whole table to hear. "The pool is for decoration, and your friends do not have swim wear."

"Well, they're European," Bruce laughed.

Tamara cradled her head in her hands. Why was Bruce embarrassing her like this in front of Jonathan?

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Bruce pulled a cheque book out of his pocket and hastily began to scribble a cheque. "It is not a question of money," the maître d' snapped.

"No, you see," Bruce said calmly, slipping the cheque into the maître d's breast pocket. "I'm buying this hotel, and setting some new rules about the pool area."

"Bruce!" the blondes called, beckoning him over to them. He walked to the edge of the pool and they splashed him playfully, before pulling him in with them.

"Come on Jonathan, we're leaving," snapped Tamara, taking his hand and pulling him from the table with her. "Good evening," she nodded to the remaining people sat at the table. As she left, they resumed their conversation about Batman.

"I think the Batman deserves a medal."

"And a straightjacket to pin it on."

"I didn't mind, you know," Jonathan assured him.

"Bullshit," she snapped. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over him. He's not normally like that."

"Tamara, you don't have to be ashamed of your brother," he said gently, rubbing her upper arms. "You were happy to have him back, and you're disappointed that he's not as ideal as you recalled. You don't have to try and hide him. I won't judge you."

"It's not like that!" she shouted. "I'm sorry," she murmured upon seeing his shocked face, her voice quieter. "But it's not like that, Jonathan. He's not like that. I don't know what came over him. It's like he left the house and felt the need to show off. I don't even want to get in a car with him now."

"Do you need me to give you a lift home?"

Tamara sighed. "Thank you. Although, inevitably, as soon as I get home he'll try and apologise to me. I'm not in the mood for that tonight."

"Why don't you just stay with me tonight?"

Tamara looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You won't be an inconvenience. In fact, this is very convenient."

Tamara frowned. "Why?"

"Because, my dear," he smiled. "It's your first day of work experience tomorrow."

Author's note: Sorry this was a bit shorter than usual - the next chapter's going to be a good one though! Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed so far. It's making me really happy knowing that people are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it and you all seem to like Tamara, too.

I've been listening to the Batman Begins soundtrack while writing this, and God, it's perfect. I think it's my favourite out of all the three films' soundtracks.

In reply to BaDWolF89, I am intending to write the next two films - I definitely have ideas for a sequel based around the time of The Dark Knight. The thing is, they're not going to be Crane/OCs - as much as I fancy Crane, the thing I love most about this story is the relationship between Tamara and Bruce. My idea for The Dark Knight fic is that Tamara - who'll be working towards her Ph.D. in psychology - will get a little obsession with the Joker and how his mind works, and get into a spot of trouble. I'm not too sure yet though, as I'm really just focussed on this story right now. I hope that didn't disappoint anyone too much!