Author's note: This is the start of the prologue of my Batman Begins fanfic. It's the first story I've posted on this account and I haven't written much in a while, so go easy on me! It follows the storyline of Batman Begins with the addition of my OC, Tamara Wayne. Rather than using the actual film to get the quotes and storyline, I've used mainly the original screenplay, which is surprisingly quite different to the finished film, but any similarities you read will be from that. Rated M to be safe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC.

Prologue

Part 1

The Only Surviving Member

"You're a product of everything that's wrong with this city. After what you've been through, you should be fucked up. You should be nothing. A nobody. A mess. Your parents were murdered when you were a baby. Your older brother, your everything – he disappeared almost seven years ago, when you were just thirteen. They say he's dead."

"I know all of that, Doctor Olson. I lived it. I am living it. I don't need reminding."

"Hey, I'm just saying. If you'd let me get to my point -"

"Is there one?"

"Yes, and I'm getting to it – If you'd let me get to my point, I was going to say, you're not a fuck-up. You're a successful young woman. You've spent your entire life under a spotlight and constant public scrutiny, and you haven't let that hold you back. And here you are, one week away from graduating from Gotham University and turning twenty-one. You've come so far, Tamara. As your professor, I'm proud to have been there to watch your journey. From that scared, nervous teenager I first met three years ago, to the confident woman who now stands before me."

Tamara craned her neck as the monorail pulled into the platform. She'd been waiting for this day for two years. She hadn't seen her older brother since he'd left for Princeton when she was eleven. He hadn't come home once. She knew Wayne Manor held painful memories for him – after all, he'd been a lot older than her when their parents had been murdered – but she'd never been able to understand what would have been so difficult about one visit, maybe just at Christmas. But none of that mattered anymore. He was home. Bruce was home, that was what was important. The passengers started to spill out of the monorail.

"Can you see him Alfred?" Tamara asked her ageing English butler excitedly. Alfred had been the Wayne family butler for as long as she could remember. In fact, he was all she really could remember. Her parents had died when she was an infant, leaving Alfred as her legal guardian. He was like a father to her and he always had been.

A smile lit up Alfred's features. He pointed a finger straight ahead.

"There."

"BRUCE!"

Upon hearing Tamara's cry, Bruce looked across the platform, his eyes lighting upon the vision in pink that was hurtling towards him at full speed. He grinned, opening his arms out, catching her as she barrelled into him. He hugged her tightly.

"I missed you so much," she murmured into his stomach.

"I missed you too, Tammy."

She looked up at him, glaring. She'd always hated his pet name for her. He winked.

Bruce had his father Thomas' dark hair and chiselled features whereas Tamara was swiftly taking after her mother Martha, with her blonde hair and delicate mouth. Both children however, had inherited their mother's sea-green eyes.

Bruce offered a wave towards Alfred.

"You didn't have to pick me up."

"Well, sir, the red line…well, it's closed. Apparently Mr. Earle thought it wasn't making enough money," Alfred said carefully. "And of course, Tamara here just couldn't wait to see you. She's missed you, you know."

Bruce wasn't really listening. He stroked his sister's hair as he looked sadly at the decay to his father's station – it had been the Wayne family who had built this monorail. Now, the glass was cracked, the marble chipped, the homeless were bundled in shuttered shop fronts. He looked up through the sparing glass. That was one thing that hadn't changed – Wayne Tower still loomed overhead, it's gold lettering glittering in the summer sun.

"How is Mr. Earle?"

"Oh…successful."

That was the part of the day she last saw Bruce that Tamara remembered most clearly, and most fondly. For even though she knew now that he had been far from happy, he had masked his pain well enough to convince her pre-teen self. On the way home from the station, for the first time ever Alfred had letter her sit in the Rolls without wearing a seatbelt. She lay across the back seats with her head in Bruce's lap. She'd been up half of the night before, excitement keeping her from sleep, and as Bruce had fallen into his age-old habit of stroking her silky hair, she'd begun to doze off, the soothing movement and the summer heat making her sleepy. Because of this, she could only remember snippets of the two adults' conversation.

"Will you be heading back to Princeton tomorrow or could I persuade you to spend an extra night or two? I'm sure it would make Tamara very happy."

"I'm not heading back at all," Bruce had replied.

"You don't like it there?"

Bruce smiled sardonically, turning his gaze away from his younger sister to the trees flashing past the car window.

"I like it fine…they just don't feel the same way."

When they had reached the Manor, Alfred had told her to run along. She'd hesitated, not wanting to leave Bruce's side, but Bruce too, had insisted that she went up to her room. Instead, Tamara compromised by sitting in her favourite hiding place – the place she always went to when she was upset. It was a small table, just around the corner from the main staircase. It was the perfect height for her to sit under, if she pulled her knees up to her chest. She'd listened to Bruce and Alfred as they'd made their way up the stairs.

"I've prepared the master bedroom." Alfred had sounded tense.

"My old room will be fine."

"With all due respect, sir," Alfred began sternly. "Your father is dead. Wayne Manor is your house."

"No, Alfred, it isn't my house." Tamara had flinched upon hearing the irritation in her brother's voice. She wasn't used to it. Princeton had changed him. "It's a mausoleum. A reminder of everything I lost; and when I have my way, I'll pull the damn thing down brick by brick."

"This house, Master Wayne, has sheltered six generations of the Wayne family." Tamara pulled her knees even closer to her chest. She had never heard Alfred so angry. "It has stood patiently by while you've cavorted in and out of a dozen private schools and colleges. As have I and your sister." There was a pause. When Alfred next spoke, his tone was softer. "The Wayne family legacy is not so easily shrugged off."

"Nor borne, old friend. I'm sorry to have disappointed you."

"Master Wayne…I was at your father's side when you were born. And at your side when he was laid to rest."

"I know." Bruce's voice had caught slightly. Tears pricked Tamara's eyes. Whilst she was too young to fully understand the conversation, she could tell it was making Bruce sad.

"Your father was a great man. But I have every confidence that you will exceed his greatness."

"Haven't given up on me, yet?"

"Never."

The two men had reached the top of the staircase. They made their way down the opposite end of the corridor to where Tamara was sat, where Bruce's old bedroom had been. He opened the door, before turning back to Alfred.

"I may not get another chance to thank you for all you've done for me."

"Are you going away after the hearing?"

Bruce shrugged, and then turned to enter his old bedroom. At this, tears began to fall down Tamara's face. She may have been young, but she wasn't stupid. She could sense the finality in everything Bruce had said. She waited until Alfred made his way back down the stairs, before hurrying into Bruce's room. His bag was on the bed and he was staring at the mantel, where a framed photograph sat. Tamara racked her brains, trying to remember the picture. It was Bruce when he was younger, sat on their father's shoulders, his arms raised in triumph. She smiled slightly to herself through her tears. She liked that picture. She'd never known her father, but she liked to think of him as how he was in that photograph. Holding her and Bruce upright.

"Please don't leave."

Bruce turned around, shocked.

"Tamara, what are you doing?"

Upon seeing the tears spilling down her face, he frowned, and hurried to stand in front of her. He fell down onto his knees and pulled her into another hug.

"Oh, no, Tammy, don't cry…come on…"

A shuddering sob escaped her lips. "I mean it, Bruce. Don't leave me when I've only just got you back. You're all I have."

"You have Alfred."

"You're the only family I have left," she corrected herself.

"I have to go to the hearing, Tammy. I have to see the man who killed Mom and Dad."

"I know. But you're gonna come home after that, right?"

"I promise."

Tamara never saw him again. As a child, she'd never fully understood where he'd gone or why. Why he hadn't kept his promise. When she was sixteen, Bruce's childhood friend, Rachel, explained everything to her. How he'd intended to kill Joe Chill, her parents' killer, after the hearing, but a female T.V. presenter, working for the mob, had got there before him. Rachel had sent him out of her car, ashamed and disgusted, and she hadn't seen him since. After a few months, he was declared dead. Tamara was the only surviving member of the Wayne family.

"I must say, Miss Wayne, that gown is very becoming on you."

Tamara chuckled. "Why thank you, Alfred. And the cap?"

"It compliments your eyes."

She sighed, picking up a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter.

"I must say, it does feel lovely to be able to legally drink at my graduation."

"Just think, if you'd been born a day later, you wouldn't be quite so lucky."

Tamara smiled, but her smile was sad and her eyes were elsewhere. She took a sip of her drink in an attempt to hold back tears. Alfred rested a wrinkled hand on her shoulder.

"He'd have been proud of you, Tamara."

"I know. I just wish he could've been here to see it."

Alfred nodded sadly. For once, he was at a loss for words.