I do not own Batman. Sucks, don't it? I do own Eleanor Black and all the other characters and plot points that aren't part of the movie. Rated T for the same reasons the movie was rated PG-13. Enjoy.

Chances Are…
Chapter One: The Birth Of Bat Central

Beginning Author's Note… THIS IS A TEASER CHAPTER. Meaning you're going to have to wait a while for the next chapter, because I'm going to finish my other Batman fic first. I just thought I'd give you all a taste.

So this is technically a sequel to Superhero's Confidante, but if you haven't read that story, don't worry about it, because it's not that good and it's not worth reading. Plus, there's nothing in the fic that you need to know in order to read this one. This fic follows The Dark Knight. And FYI, I'm still working on writing in first person, so any pointers any one has would be well received by me. Thanks, and enjoy the story.

The last little while has been hectic.

It's been a good hectic, though. You know, the kind of hectic that keeps you so busy you can't think of anything else except what you're doing at that moment.

What was floating around my head that I didn't want to think about?

Well, the fact that, those few months ago, I had found out Bruce Wayne was Batman. And I had told the billionaire that I loved him. I knew I had caught him off guard when I'd told him, and because of the embarrassment stemming from that, I blushed whenever he looked at me and this weird excited-nervous-electric feeling shot through me whenever he touched me or smiled at me. I felt like a teenager again, and I hated that. But my exposed feelings hadn't changed the way he acted around me or towards me or anything, I just saw everything differently. I just didn't want to think about how nothing had changed for him, or hadn't seemed to anyway. I wasn't delusional or anything; I didn't expect him to love me back, and I hadn't when I'd told him. But nothing had changed. We had been and still were friends. He still loved Rachel Dawes, and I still hated her. I wanted Bruce to show some recognition to what I'd expressed. But, I'd deal with it. I'd dealt with it so far, hadn't I?

And it hadn't been easy.

Bruce had been living at my parent's house while he and Alfred waited for the Wayne Penthouse in midtown Gotham to be cleaned and made ready for them to move into. So, I'd been in pretty close proximity for about two weeks, but I thought I'd handled that situation with particularly impressive indifference to the nervous knot in my gut. I hadn't exactly been devastated when it came time to start moving Bruce into his temporary home. What little normal stuff had been stored in the Batcave, and all the new stuff he bought, was moved into the penthouse and the more abnormal stuff (a.k.a. Batman's stuff) had been moved somewhere. I didn't know where because Bruce and Alfred moved it all at night when I was asleep, so none of the citizens of Gotham would see. When I asked Bruce where all the super high-tech gizmos had gone, all he said was: "Storage."

"Well… OK." I flopped down on the massive king-sized bed in the bedroom area of the loft and stared at the incredibly high ceiling. "Where are you and Alfred going to do all the analyzing and crap from?"

Bruce looked up at me from the rushing city street storeys below and shrugged.

I groaned loudly and pushed myself off the way-too-comfortable-to-be-real bed and stomped downstairs – what kind of apartment has two floors? – to where Alfred was preparing a quick dinner for myself, my parents, Bruce and him. And probably Rachel. She had helped unpack the new things that had arrived that afternoon, but she had only been able to help during her lunch break. I couldn't say I was sorry when she had to go back to the district attorney's office, but, if I remembered correctly, she'd said she'd try and be back to help later.

Rachel and I had never been, and still weren't, friends. I hated her because Bruce loved her, and I was pretty sure everyone knew it. I certainly wasn't ashamed of that. Of course, I hadn't always hated her for that reason. When we were growing up, we just couldn't agree on anything, and we were always finding reasons to verbally abuse each other and argue. We still found reasons to verbally abuse each other, but I liked to think we were a little more mature now. Most of the time. Rachel hated the fact I had found out Bruce was Batman before she did, and she didn't like that I was more involved with the Batman side of Bruce. (Was it my fault I liked Batman and I wasn't trying to get Bruce to stop doing his vigilante thing?) Since the two of us were evidently going to be seeing a lot more of each other, Bruce wanted Rachel and me to try and get along better, if we couldn't be friends, but it just really wasn't happening. And it wasn't just my fault. Neither Rachel or I wanted to get along better. We didn't want to have to spend time together, just because we were both close to Bruce. Needless to say, things had been kind of tense between Bruce and me, whenever Rachel came up in conversation, because he thought I wasn't trying hard enough (and that was probably the truth). He was also bitter because Rachel wasn't around as much as he would have liked her to be, and she wasn't with him.

She had started dating the new district attorney, Harvey Dent.

Again, I couldn't say that didn't make me happy, but it made Bruce miserable. Although, he would never admit it. I didn't like seeing him miserable.

"What can I do for you, Miss Black?" Alfred asked, stirring a pot of what smelled like and looked like beef stew.

I waited for my stomach to finish growling, and then smiled at the butler. "Call me Eleanor, please, and nothing. I just wanted to come down and see if I could help."

"I don't require any assistance, Miss Black. Maybe your parents would like some help organizing the bookshelves. Or whatever it was they were doing, exactly. The books looked plenty organized to me."

I chuckled and leaned backwards against the countertop. "My Mom likes books to be organized alphabetically and by author. She's real picky like that. You should have seen what she did to my father's medical books in his office at home. He couldn't find anything. So, she's not allowed in there anymore." I smiled and plucked a piece of bread out of the basket on the counter beside me. "But I'll go see if they need any help." I fixed my cobalt eyes on Alfred and pointed my index finger at him, the slice of bread clutched in the same hand. "And call me Eleanor."

"Of course."

I smiled again and walked from the kitchen to where the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stood, at the other end of the ridiculously long room. My Mom was hanging off a ladder, organizing the very top shelf, while my father stood underneath her, watching with his hands on his hips. They were arguing playfully, like they usually did, large smiles on both their faces. Nibbling my carb-o-licious snack, I approached my father, Liam Black, and took a place standing beside him.

"Need any help out here?"

"I don't think so," Liam breathed, running his fingers back through his black hair. He turned his head and smiled widely at me, his blue-green eyes sparkling.

I didn't have any colouring from my parents, but that's because they adopted me when I was a newborn. My birth mother had been raped and I was the result. Or, that's what Liam figured anyway, seeing as he found me in an alleyway, in a pool of blood and crying my little head off. If Liam hadn't found me then, I would have died. I owned them everything, but they never asked me for anything beyond normal family things. I couldn't ask for better parents, and I was proud to have the last name of Black and to be named after Liam's mother and sister, both of whom had died in a robbery gone bad. Eleanor and Alexandra. Eleanor Alexandra Black. That was me.

"No honey, we're fine!" my mother yelled down from her perch on the ladder, some strands of her rich red hair flying free. "Why don't you go off and help Bruce?" Her innocent smile was anything but.

Naomi had this dream that I would be Mrs. Bruce Wayne one day. That would be nice, but I was pretty confident it would never happen. I was pretty confident Bruce wouldn't marry anyone, even Rachel. (Unless he listened to her and stopped being Batman some day and she kept her promise that she'd wait for him.) Just one of the many sacrifices he'd made when he created Batman. Of course, maybe there would come a day when he could hang up the cape and cowl and settle down. Maybe then… Nah.

Musn't get your hopes up, Ellie. You'll just regret it later.

I shrugged, finished my bread, and headed back into the kitchen, just as the elevator dinged and Rachel stepped out, onto the tiled floor of the gargantuan loft-style penthouse. Whatever Bruce wanted to call it.

"Hello Rachel," I mumbled, sliding into the other room and onto the countertop.

She only replied with a nod of her head and then headed upstairs.

"You and Miss Dawes seemed to have reached a place of pacified anger. No more tackling each other to the ground, I trust?"

"Not making any promises Alfred, but I'll try."

"That's all we can ask, Miss Black." Alfred pulled the soup pot off the stove and my stomach grumbled loudly again. "Supper's ready, if you care to inform everyone?" He swept out of the kitchen to the dining table, which was, with only one spoon, a plate and a bowl, set very informally for Alfred.

I nodded, hopped off the counter and stuck my head into the living room. "SUPPER!" I yelled as loud as I could. I hoped my voice carried upstairs or my parents' delivered the message, because I wasn't going up. If I could avoid seeing Rachel and Bruce around each other, I would. That was one way I kept myself from being a bitch to her. I turned and headed to the table, where I took a seat at the end of the far side of the table and immediately started spooning great gobs of the thick and delicious-smelling stew into my bowl. I found the dish far too small. Oh well. I always had room for seconds.

"It would polite if you waited for everyone to take their seats," Alfred said from the doorway.

I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. Alfred had this unrivalled talent for making grown people feel like little kids again. I had to smile a little bit, and Alfred returned the gesture and then chuckled softly as my stomach grumbled again. It was only about half a minute before the others started filing in and taking their seats. Bruce sat at the head of the table to my right and my mother sat on my left. Rachel sat on Bruce's other side, directly across form me and my Dad took the other end of the table. Of course Alfred sat closest to the kitchen, ready to get up at a moment's notice and get anything for anyone.

There was idle chatter over diner, you know: "How are things going?", "Are you sure you're going to be OK in this big place all by yourself, Bruce?", "How's work been, Rachel?", "How are things with Harvey?"… All that small talk everyone would rather skip but they do it anyway. I didn't contribute much – I was too involved in my second bowl of stew and my, oh, forth piece of bread? My food was where I kept my eyes too. To avoid any dirty looks I felt like giving Rachel. Bruce seemed to do the same whenever the conversation turned to Harvey. Not that my parents knew about the love… triangle or square or whatever it was, they were just curious about Gotham's new district attorney, and when you were sitting with his girlfriend (and you were my perpetually curious mother) you asked questions. A lot of questions.

After dinner, I was the first to leave the penthouse. I had to get home to walk my dog. Blaze would be jumping and barking at the door by now. I said goodbye to everyone and promised my parents I'd call them soon before stepping into the elevator and taking the long ride down to the private level of the parking garage reserved for the penthouse occupants. It was an uninterrupted ride though. Private elevators and all that. The drive back to my house took only fifteen minutes, since the evening rush hour was passed.

I was right about Blaze; his barks met me in the hallway and the big red Husky nearly tackled me to the ground when I opened the door. "Sit," I said. Blaze obediently sat in front of me, his pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Just a quick walk, all right?" He barked, and I took that for an OK. "Good boy." I scratched behind his ear and headed into my room to change.

Three knocks in quick succession brought me out of my sleep. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 1:53 am. Mumbling curses, I untangled myself from the covers, straightened my pyjama pants and walked over the window; the only person who would be calling on me this late didn't use doors. I lifted the window open and stepped aside to let the moving shadow and the chilly night air in.

"What can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" I asked through a yawn. A stray breeze made the legs of my pyjama pants flap wildly. I spit hair out of my mouth.

"I need you to come to that old train yard I showed you last week later this morning," Batman growled. The change in voice helped protect his identity, although with the costume on, I doubted anyone would recognize him. I hadn't.

"Why?" I rubbed at my eyes, trying to clear that just-woke-up blurriness from my eyes. Not that I could see him any clearer or anything. He was standing amidst the shadows, he was damn near invisible. "Nah, you won't tell me. You would have told me already if you were planning on it at all." I subconsciously put a hand on his shoulder as I walked past him to my bed. "I'll see you tomorrow," I mumbled as I burrowed my way back under the covers. I barely heard the whisper of his cape as he vanished out the window.

The alarm went off at six. A truly heinous hour for a Sunday morning. I rolled out of bed and walked straight into my closet. Jeans, a massive old t-shirt with a hole on one shoulder and flip flops. Classy. I brushed my hair, my teeth and washed my face and then I grabbed my overly large purse, attached Blaze's leash and headed down to my car.

I hated getting up early, and losing about an hour of sleep didn't help anything, least of all my mood. It always takes me a while to get back to sleep after been woken up. I wasn't mad at Bruce though. There wouldn't be any point in getting mad at him. If he hadn't come to my apartment, he would have phoned me. He couldn't have told me to come to the train yard at the apartment, because he couldn't risk anyone overhearing. My parents – my mother – would have wondered what he was talking about and would have bugged him until she found out. Bruce could have lied, but my Mom could always spot when I was fibbing. Sacrificing sleep was just part of being friends with Batman, a nocturnal vigilante. I also wasn't mad at him for being vague about why he wanted me at the train yard. That was just Bruce.

I stopped at some fast food restaurant to grab some greasy breakfast sandwich and a cup of lukewarm coffee, but it served. I'm not very good at driving with one hand and eating with the other, so I put the bag on the console in the middle of the front seat, told my dog not to eat it and stuck the coffee cup in the cup holder that wasn't holding my spare change. Blaze barked cheerfully and stuck his head back out the window, his ears and tongue blowing backwards in the wind. He snapped at bugs invisible to my eyes and barked at any other dogs we passed.

The train yard was in downtown Gotham, near the shipping yard and the docks. The only things in the yard beside a vast expanse of dirt and sparse smatterings of weeds, was a half-finished structure of some kind and a shipping container with flaking red paint. I got there by following the route Bruce had shown me and parked my bright blue Ford Focus beside the black Rolls Royce Alfred favoured driving. After shutting the gate, I let Blaze out to run around and then plopped my butt on the hood of my car to eat my breakfast and wait. I had no idea where Bruce or Alfred could possibly be hiding, but I knew they'd come and get me eventually. I had the shimmering surface of the river and my cooling breakfast to keep me occupied… Oh, the fun.

I was just finishing my sandwich when there was a soft rumbling from inside the shipping container. Confused, I slipped off the hood of my car and stepped towards the vessel, my eyebrows furrowed. Blaze appeared beside me and walked at my heels, like the good dog he was, his ears pointed forward and a low growl in his throat. He barked when the door opened and I jumped, but sighed in relief when it was only Alfred, smiling his warm and familiar smile. Blaze ran up to the butler and jumped at his hand until Alfred submitted and scratched his ears.

"Good morning Miss Black."

"Morning Alfred." I looked behind him, into the shipping container. It looked whole, solid and normal. "Um… Where did you come from?"

"Follow me."

I obliged, Blaze trotting at my heels again, his head held high now that he knew there was no threat. Alfred led us back into the container, and stopped in the middle. He turned and smiled knowingly. I jumped and yelped simultaneously as the floor started to descend, and Alfred chuckled.

"What the hell?!"

Blaze barked loudly for a minute.

Alfred didn't say anything. Just retained his grin. There was a dull click as the floor slid into place. A concrete floor spanned out in all directions, and the ceiling was completely made of fluorescent lights, casting all the high-tech equipment into sharp relief against the concrete walls. I recognized all the equipment – I had helped move it. It was Batman's. The computer terminals were set up, so they were off the surface of the massive L-shaped desk, leaving it a clear workspace. There were other workstations set up in front of me as well, tools of all kinds scattered over the tables. Behind me, the Tumbler (a.k.a. The Batmobile) was parked, and a compartment that looked like it fit into the floor held the Batsuit. A panel in the wall was opened, revealing a sort of garage where a red motorcycle was parked.

I spun around in a circle until I spotted Bruce standing in front of the Tumbler. Blaze was sitting at his feet, panting with his eyes closed while Bruce ruffled the fur around his next. I thrust my arms out to my sides and gestured, my mouth slightly agape.

Bruce smiled.

I gathered myself together. "So this is like the Batcave now?" I asked. I crossed my arms and tried to keep myself from smiling. Over my initial shock and surprise, I discovered I quite liked the space.

"I guess so."

Stepping off the section of moveable floor, I walked over to Bruce. "I'm impressed though. You must have moved this stuff down here fast. I only helped you move it, oh… a week ago?" Bruce nodded, and I nodded with him. "So, how long as this been set up?"

"We just finished two days ago, actually. Not everything is completely functional yet." Bruce walked towards the main computer station, and I followed. He typed something on one of the keyboards and the monitors all flared to life, images and words and figures flickering across the multiple screens. I had no doubt Bruce could follow everything, but I was having a little trouble. There was a lot of information flying across the LCD monitors. I knew it was all important. For a minute, I watched Bruce's hazel eyes flicker back and forth. "We've got another group of computers to set up."

"And why are you telling me this? Why are you showing me this?"

Bruce turned and looked at me. "You said you wanted to help."

"Oh, and this is your way of letting me help?"

He nodded.

I shrugged. "All right then. Where are these computers to set up?"

Bruce led me over to beside the wall with the garage and pressed a button that was invisible until his thumb depressed it. Another panel slid open, revealing a pile of boxes. They were all factory sealed. Of course they were. Most of Batman's equipment had been destroyed when the mansion burnt to the ground, collapsing through the foundation into the cave below the south-east wing. Alfred joined us and we proceeded to open the box containing the metal desk first. I didn't help set the desk up since I have no talent with tools. Well, I held things in place with Alfred while Bruce screwed them together. Does that count as helping? I guess. Whatever. After that, the three of us spent however long opening all the boxes containing the six computers and all their parts. I stopped counting after we opened the fourth monitor box and just mourned the pain my hands would be in tomorrow from putting pressure on the box cutter as I slid it through the tape. Over and over and over… And there was still so many boxes to go through…

"Has there been any more noise from the Joker?" I asked, pulling the flaps of another box open. I flicked my gaze over to where Blaze had fallen asleep, his legs sprawled like he was running, except he was on his side.

Bruce shook his head as he lifted the flat-panel monitor from the box. "He's been quiet lately." He set the monitor down on the desk and grabbed the screwdriver he'd been using to attach the mounts to the back of the monitors. "He's been out there for almost a month now and he hasn't done anything. I can't figure him out."

I got to my feet and moved to stand beside Bruce. "You will eventually." It was a lame thing to say, but I felt it was true.

"Maybe, but what will it take? Him killing people? Moving up from robbery?" He moved around the back of the desk, behind the bizarre-looking metal structure that was holding the monitors above the desk, just like the other computer terminal. For a minute, Bruce just stared at the top of the metal desk, his brows knitting together as he sunk into deep thought. This Joker thing had been eating at him since Lieutenant Gordon had given him that first playing card; the card had a place of honour at the main computer station, pinned to the front of one of the wooden shelves. "I can't let him kill people, Eleanor," he said finally.

"I know, Bruce."

I lifted the monitor up to its place and let Bruce move it and my arms until the holes were aligned. He quickly screwed it into place; the monitor was heavy and I didn't have that much upper body strength. It could have gone quicker, if he'd used a power drill or something, but Bruce liked physical work. I thought he might enjoy the pain on some level. You know, because pain reminds everyone that they're alive and all that? I didn't really understand it, but I wasn't the one who had spent years in a monastery, now was I?

"I feel like I'm losing whatever respect I gained as Batman. First Crane and now the Joker…"

I just nodded as Bruce thought out loud as we walked back to the pile of monitor boxes. The one we removed was the last one. Now all that was left were the keyboards, the speakers, the towers… Sometimes, I really hated computers.

"Bruce," I said after he had fixed the last monitor in place, "You will get this guy." Again lame, what else could I say?

He looked at me for a minute. "Thanks Ellie." A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.

Alfred, who had disappeared at some point to make lunch for everyone, returned then, descending from above with a large picnic basket hanging from one arm. He walked over to the only clear spot on the desk, set it down and started removing containers of food. As the smells hit my nose, I realized how hungry I was and journeyed over, Bruce walking beside me. Blaze woke up and sat up, patiently waiting for a treat.

"A picnic Alfred?" Bruce asked, picking up a warm chicken sandwich.

"Well, this is hardly my choice of location for a picnic, but it will serve."

Bruce and I both smiled. I reached into the basket and removed a can of diet soda, nodding my thanks to Alfred, who had, in the last few weeks, picked up on my love of carbonated drinks. We ate the chicken sandwiches, and pasta salad with black olives that I picked out and stored on the edge of my plate. Olives and celery were two vegetables I couldn't stand. Blaze managed to beg a piece of chicken from Alfred, and he ate my discarded olives. My dog would eat anything.

The only time I left the bunker that day was to take Blaze home when I realized how long I was going to be there. After we set up the rest of the computer components, Bruce and Alfred went to the mansion grounds to check on construction, and I plunked myself in front of the newly set-up computers to install the programs that were on the main computers as well as several forensic programs. Bruce was turning into quite the detective, and he was taking it seriously. I found the science very interesting, but my brain wasn't really wired for science or math, so it kind of flew over my head. When Bruce and Alfred returned, it was with dinner. Time was really flying by. Bruce took over the computer work after we finished eating dinner and I took a walk around the bunker.

I stopped in front of Batman's suit and stared into the empty eye holes of the cowl. Suddenly, the whole thing seemed surreal. Me standing in Batman's headquarters… I shook my head. Since Bruce had returned to Gotham, everything had been turned upside down and I had been thrust into this… supernatural-ish world. So had Rachel. I grimaced as I realized, again, just how similar we were.

Bruce's hand appeared on my shoulder, sending a feeling like electricity through my body; the sensation happened every time he touched me. To my credit though, I didn't blush when he made physical contact with me anymore. "It's time for me to head out."

I twitched a smile at him and then headed over to the main computer terminal, trying hard not to think about him changing behind me. "Is this connected to Batman?" I asked, pointing at a headset. I still referred to Batman as a separate person, even when I was talking to Bruce. Something in my head just kept all three of his selves separate: Batman, Playboy Bruce and Bruce.

"Yes," he said, his voice slightly muffled as he pulled the cowl over his head.

I slipped the headset on and sat on the stool. "I'll be here."

"N—"

"Yes."

Instead of arguing, Bruce climbed into the Tumbler and took off. I didn't watch him leave. I just listened. It was an odd sensation to hear the roar of its engines behind me and from inside the car at the same time. Alfred had gone home, so I was by myself, but I didn't really mind. It was oddly peaceful underground.

"Eleanor, wake up."

The voice sounded far away. There was a pressure on my shoulder and I groaned.

"Wake up."

Bruce's voice jolted into reality and I sat straight up, my back cracking in protest and my shoulders and neck exposing all the stiffness and knots they had accumulated over the night. "What time is it?" I mumbled, reaching over my shoulders to knead my flesh.

"Six."

"What?" I spun – too quickly as my neck snapped painfully – and noticed that Bruce was dressed in normal clothes. "Why didn't you wake me up when you got back?! When did I fall asleep?!"

"Relax," he said. He put his hand on my shoulder and I closed my eyes, the electric feeling twisting my stomach into knots. "You were still half-awake when I got back. You fell asleep after I changed. You looked like you need the sleep, so I left you." He produced a tall silver thermos. "Alfred brought coffee. Have a cup and then you should go home and clean up. I'm sure Blaze misses you." He smiled.

I poured some of the still-piping coffee into the lid of the thermos and nodded. As he sat in the other stool, I took a sip. "Oh, and I'm naming this place Bat Central."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at me. "I wish you wouldn't."

Author's Note… Well, I'm quite pleased with this chapter. Again, this is a TEASER CHAPTER, meaning I don't know when you'll see more of this fic. If I get a good response, it'll be sooner though, because good reviews always make you wanna write more, am I right? So review and let me know what you think! Oh, and FYI, if you didn't pick it up, this is BEFORE the movie starts.