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 Fourteen: Chaos.

The morning remained tense and uncomfortable. Granted, I spent most of it moving about the penthouse, cleaning up Master Bruce's untouched breakfast and Ms. Black's barely touched food and wondering how long the silence would last; it may have been a characteristic state for Master Wayne, but I had never heard Eleanor silent for so long. As the penthouse brightened, Eleanor, eyes red-rimmed and slightly puffy with the tears just drying on her cheeks, joined me in the kitchen, her shoulders tight as she insisted on drying the dishes I had just washed and returning them to their rightful places on the shelves. She did not offer any conversation and I did not press—I had spent enough hours around the young woman to know that she would talk when she was ready and that she did not take kindly to prying questions. Her mind was still out in the living area with Bruce.

"Alfred," she said after a while, her voice thin and shaking slightly. I turned my face towards her and she took the action as the invitation to continue it was. "What... what's going to happen now?"

It was an interesting question. She, of course, did not mean what was going to happen in a chronological fashion; she meant what was going to happen with Master Bruce. Would he continue his vigilant crusade against the crime of Gotham or would he give it up as Rachel had wanted? The former option was far more likely—indeed, Bruce would probably see it as the only possible option as he would not see the possibility for a normal life now that Ms. Dawes had passed on—and I knew it was the one Eleanor wanted to hear. At times, her devotion to Bruce's alter-ego was alarmingly intense, but he needed someone like Eleanor in his inner circle, someone to reinforce his choices and, even though I had witnessed their arguments about nearly everything, someone to support him. "I suspect the Batman will remain, Ms. Black. Will you do the same?"

The question got the reaction I had expected—a long and slightly dark look; it seemed Eleanor was picking up Master Bruce's skill for glaring. "Of course, Alfred. Where the hell would I go? What would I do?" She dropped her chin to her chest and stared at the dish towel in her hands as she sighed. "I've made this my life. I probably would have fought to stay Bruce's assistant even if Rachel had... survived."

"I have no doubt of that."

I retrieved the towel from Eleanor and hung it over the oven's door handle, neatly folded, to dry. Eleanor hovered around the kitchen for a few moments longer before heading off in the direction of the guest bedroom, likely to change and get ready for the day ahead, a day to be spent on the phone, rearranging the appointments Bruce would not be going to for at least the next couple days. After making sure the kitchen was in its proper order, I headed to the living area where I found Bruce still seated in the same chair, although the Batsuit had been replaced with one of his navy blue business suits and he had taken steps to clean himself up.

"Alfred?" he said.

"Yes, Master Wayne?"

"Did I bring this on her? I thought I would inspire good, not madness... But first there were the imposters, and now this..."

I frowned at Bruce. "You have inspired good, Master Bruce. But you spat in the face of Gotham's criminals—didn't you think that there might be casualties?" This was not a happy reply, but I knew the young man in front of me had to hear it, even if I did not wish to see the hurt on his face. "Things were always going to have to get worse before they go better."

"But Rachel, Alfred."

I had a moment where I didn't see a grown Bruce Wayne sitting in that chair in front of me; I saw the eight year old who had just witnessed his parents' murder and endured their funeral. I saw the little boy who was broken, lost and afraid and, not for the first time, I saw the path that had led my charge to don the cowl of the Batman and take on his endless quest to fight the evil of Gotham. "Rachel believed in what you stood for. What we stand for." He looked up at me, his face full of all the grief that little boy had possessed, but I knew he got my meaning—Rachel may have been gone, but there were still those that would stand by him. I would not leave and neither, as it turned out, would Eleanor. I hoped Bruce knew that. "Gotham needs you," I said, echoing her passionate argument when Bruce had almost had turned himself in.

"Gotham needs its hero, and I like him get blown half to hell—"

"Which is why, for now, they'll have to make do with you."

I left him with that thought as the phone rang and I moved to the master bedroom to answer it. "Wayne residence."

"Alfred," Eleanor said, her voice rather panicky. I had not even realized she'd left the penthouse. It was unlike her not to let someone know when she left. I chalked the slightly off behaviour to the very off situation.

"What is it Ms. Black?"

"You've got to turn on the TV—get Bruce to watch. There was a message on my phone this morning, from Lucius. He said that Reese hadn't returned the files he had that proved Bruce is Batman. Apparently, he's going to the news—he told one of the secretaries that he knew who Batman was and he was going to reveal him on TV. She thought he was crazy and she told Lucius that she thought he should be fired—she's right, that little shithead should be fired—"

Not unaccustomed to the language Eleanor had command of when she was angry, I was still a little taken back by the anger in her voice. "Ms. Black."

"Sorry Alfred. Just get Bruce to watch. I'm on my way to the bunker."

"I will make sure he sees the news, Ms. Black. I imagine I will be joining you in the bunker shortly." I heard the line click dead and was not at all surprised to not receive a goodbye—it was a habit she was picking up from Bruce. Master Wayne was still sitting where I had left him. "Ms. Black just called with some distressing news about Mr. Reese. I suggest you turn on the news."

Bruce obliged, his eyes widening only slightly when he saw the red-headed corporate lawyer sitting beside Mike Engle, his hands folded around a folder in his lap—no doubt the documents he had failed to return to Wayne Enterprises—and his eyes darting quickly back and forth. He was afraid, but there was a light in his eyes that said he was convinced he was doing the right thing and he was going to go through with it regardless of what happened. The camera went back to Engle and it was impossible to tell what he was feeling as his reporter's mask was on, much the same as Master Bruce's mask was in place as he watched, except for the anger edging into his eyes.

"He's a credible source—an A and M lawyer from a prestigious consultancy. He says he's waiting as long as he can for the Batman to do the right thing, and now he's taking matters into his own hands. We'll be live at five with the true identity of the Batman. Stay with us."

The feed switched to a few commercials and Bruce settled back in his chair. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he tried to figure out how to handle this situation without revealing himself as Batman.

Before anything could be said, Engle was back on screen and began taking calls, as I assumed they would be all day, up until the final reveal during prime time; there would also likely be specials on speculations of the identity and other trivial bits of information to keep the viewers interested until five. I half-expected to hear Eleanor's voice over the speaker, yelling her hatred for what Reese was doing, but she was smarter than that. She knew there were obvious connections between herself and Bruce and knew that many of Gotham's intelligent citizens would begin to suspect Bruce if she so vehemently defended Batman; even if she did not give her name, that would not prevent everyone from identifying her. Not to mention the questions she would draw to herself about her devotion to the Batman.

The current caller sounded convinced this was a set-up of some sort. "I want to know how much money they're going to pay you to say who Batman really is."

Reese looked surprised by the idea that not everyone was taking him seriously. "That's not why I'm doing this," he muttered.

Engle gazed at his guest for a moment before turning his face back towards the camera. He pressed something on the desk in front of him and said, "Next caller, you're on the air."

"Harvey Dent didn't want Batman to give into this maniac—you think you know better than him?"

The blond anchor looked genuinely surprised by this comment. He once again turned to his guest, but this time he didn't turn away. He said, "The guy has a point, Mr. Reese. Dent didn't want Batman to give himself in. Is this the right thing to do? Should we give into the Joker's demands?"

"If we could talk to Dent now," Coleman began—his voice a little stronger than before. Apparently he had found his resolve. "He might feel differently—"

"And we wish him a speedy recovery. God knows we need him now." Engle pressed the button on his desk again. "Let's take another call."

At first, it appeared to be an old lady speaking, but there was something off about her voice. Master Bruce and I shared a look that said we were both thinking the same thing—it was the Joker.

"Mr. Reese, what's more valuable: one life or a hundred?"

Master Bruce was on his feet, shoulder tense and face shifting to the greatly dissatisfied one that Batman wore.

Back on the screen, Mr. Reese was already looking shaken. Face pale, he answered the creepy voice: "I guess it would depend on the life."

"Okay, let's say it's your life. Is it worth more than the lives of several hundred others?"

"Of course not!"

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I've put a bomb in one of the city's hospitals. It's going to go off in sixty minutes unless someone kills you."

Engle leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he began to suspect who was actually on the other end of the line. "Who is this?" he asked.

"Just a regular citizen and a regular guy," the Joker said, his voice dropping to its normal and very recognizable tone.

The Joker rattled on—some blather about a vision he had had for his reign of terror in Gotham and skewed ideals of what was right and what was noble—but I did not hear most of it. Master Bruce was up and moving, a look on his face that said he was fully in the Batman's state of mind. I watched as he paced, ready to act on whatever his orders may be, and when he started towards the stairs, doubtlessly on the way to the elevator, I followed, sensing now would be when I joined Ms. Black in the bunker.

"I need you and Eleanor plugged in, checking Gordon's men and their families."

I was not surprised that I was not to be checking Gordon, but I was surprised at the amount of trust that the omission of his name showed. Gordon had been involved in the investigation after Bruce's parents had been murdered and he had been the only one Bruce reached out to at the beginning of his turn as Batman. Gordon was a good police officer, a moral and true man and it had earned him the Batman's trust and friendship. "What are Ms. Black and I to be looking for?"

"Hospital admissions."

"Will you be taking the Batpod sir?"

"In the middle of the day Alfred?" Bruce asked, a small smile twitching one corner of his mouth; I was glad to see that at least some measure of humour had reappeared. "Not very subtle."

"The Lamborghini then?" Master Bruce gave me a small, rather enigmatic smile as the elevator doors closed. "Must more subtle..." I muttered. While waiting for the private elevator to return, I made my way to the kitchen and retrieved the phone, dialling the number for Eleanor's cell as I checked that the penthouse was in proper order.

"Do we have orders?" Eleanor asked in such a way that I knew she'd watched the coverage of the Joker's phone call.

"Yes. We are to investigate the backgrounds of Commissioner Gordon's men looking for hospital admissions, anyone who might have a vested interest in keeping all of Gotham's hospitals intact."

"Interesting how Gordon isn't on that list. Ah, that's to be expected, I suppose." Eleanor paused and I heard a sloshing that might have been water or coffee. "Does anyone really think the Joker won't blow up a hospital? Even if someone offs Reese—which he deserves—"

"Ms. Black."

"Sorry again Alfred. I'll start looking."

"I will be there shortly."

I stared at the screen of my laptop—oh, how I loved that you could watch live TV on your computer now—in abject horror, the Joker's speech bouncing uselessly off my eardrums. I wasn't hearing a word of it. I was just horrified at the possibility of a hospital—possibly the one where my parents worked—would be blown up. There was a part of my brain that was screaming t me to grab my phone and call my Mom and my Dad and make sure they knew the danger, make sure they got out in time. It was, of course, a pointless effort as I knew they would both insist on staying to make sure the patients were all rescued before saving themselves.

"I saw O'Brien and Richards."

I snapped back into the present at Bruce's voice and ran the names through the computer—it was weird doing Batman flunky work in the middle of the day. "Bruce," I said as I waited for the results, "what if he blows up the hospital my parents are in?"

"They're smart people. They'll get out in time."

It wasn't resounding as far as assurances go, but I wasn't really expecting anything brilliant. "I've got nothing on those two," I informed Bruce instead of barking about the lacklustre comfort. "No immediate family members in Gotham hospitals and no marks on their records."

"They've got Reese in a police SUV and are heading north."

Alfred entered the bunker at that moment and I gave him a small nod to let him know I'd seen him. He sat down on the stool beside me, managing, as he always did, to look like he was perfectly comfortable there, and plugged the other headset in. "Alfred's here now," I told Bruce because I knew he'd want to know. I waited for an increase in the volume of the ridiculously expensive car's engine to pass before asking, "Do you see anyone else on the scene?"

"I saw Burns and Zachary and a patrolman I don't know."

The butler's fingers input the information and a second later he said, "Burns is clean. Zachary..."

"There's at least one I don't know. Send whatever information you two have gathered to Gordon."

I took over that task while Alfred continued to look for information on the patrolmen. The noise of the Italian car's engine became a constant yet weirdly calming noise in the headset, thrumming through my head. It had been the same thing with the Tumbler before it was destroyed. I listened to the ebbs and flows of the noise as I told Bruce the information was sent and as I continued to relay names to the rather new commissioner of police. There was a sudden increase in the noise that made me jump. "What the hell was about?"

I didn't get an answer. What I got instead was a nasty crunching noise of metal and fibreglass and the dull thud of airbags deploying.

"BRUCE!" I yelled, but before I could hope for a response, Alfred pointed to the dead red light that said we were no longer connected through the computer in the car. I groaned. My worry turned to anger a few moments later however, when my phone began to vibrate, the screen displaying the picture I'd snapped of Bruce when he wasn't looking and his number. I picked it up. "Are you okay?" I asked in the most annoyed tone I could.

"I'm fine, and so is Reese. A pickup truck decided to try and ram the police van."

"And what? You decided jumping in front of it was a good idea? Idiot." I ignored Alfred's slight chuckling beside me.

"Reese won't be a problem anymore," he stated like that settled the matter. Maybe it did.

I huffed. "Fine. Now what?"

"Tune into the police bands if you're not already and monitor the situation at the hospitals. The Joker will probably be targeting Gotham General since that's where Harvey is. Tell Alfred to pick me up at Wayne Enterprises."

My insides turned cold.

"Ellie," Bruce whispered, the tone of his voice changing to the most sympathetic I think I'd ever heard direction at me; it was like he sensed my fear. "Liam and Naomi will be fine."

I nodded, managed to croak, "Okay." When the line clicked dead, I looked at Alfred. "He wants you to pick him up at Wayne Enterprises," I breathed, my fingers flexing slightly around the phone in my hand and my eyes drifting to the floor.

"Ms. Black?"

I looked back up at Alfred, saw the concern and worry in his face and felt the tears spring up and pour down my cheeks. Alfred knew where my parents worked, he knew the danger to them and that I was worried. "I'll be all right Alfred. I should stay here and keep an ear and eye on things. You guys will be back soon and I'm sure Bruce will have a plan to keep my busy. And I know my Mom will call as soon as she can."

"If you are sure."

I did my best to appear more stable than I felt. Alfred placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze before turning to the platform and disappearing into Gotham proper. I returned to the desk and dropped heavily onto the stool, the computer screen light suddenly seeming harsh against my eyes. I wiped away the tears that had fallen with the heels of my hands and then tried to focus on listening to the chatter on the police band, on watching the news, but my eyes kept drifting to the screen of my phone, placed on the desk beside the keyboard. It didn't start ringing while I stared at it and for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to dial the numbers of either of my parents' cells. What if they didn't answer? I didn't think I could handle that.

Just as the platform behind me began to drop, the phone rang.

I snatched it up quickly, beyond pleased to see my Mom's number emblazoned across the display screen. "Mom!"

"Hi Ellie! Your father and I are perfectly fine; just a few scratches... Oh, well, your father got himself a nasty gash on his side because he insisted on running back and making sure everyone got out," she said, her voice slightly chiding. I could tell she was very proud however, and relieved that her husband had been able to perform his heroic duty and survive. "No need to worry dear."

I exhaled a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "I won't worry anymore. Just make sure you and Dad get home and call me when you do, okay?"

"Honey, is something wrong? Is there something else going on with this Joker we should know about?"

"I don't know. I just know if you're at home, you'll be safe if something does happen."

"Okay Ellie. We'll call you when we get home. Love you."

"Love you too Mom." As I hung up the phone, I heaved another sigh of relief, this one fuelled by the feeling of Bruce's hand on my back, a reassurance that he too was okay after his collision. I turned and smiled a bit at him to show my relief, but the gesture faltered at the serious look on his face. "What?"

"The news."

I turned towards my laptop screen and brought up the news channel I had been watching before; at some point, the computer had gone into hibernation and the screen was black. The footage was of Engle, on a bus, holding cue cards or something and reading from them, his eyes full of fear and panic. The Joker's voice could be heard, echoing the words Engle was speaking, his voice mixed with the bone-chilling laugh the villain was capable of.

"What does it take to make you people join in?" Engle asked in a shaky voice. The Joker's voice slid over the next sentence. "You failed to kill the lawyer. I've got to get you off the bench and into the game. So here it is." Engle's eyes bulged slightly as he read the next words, but fear of the Joker and for his life kept him reading. "Come nightfall, this city is mine, and anyone left here plays by my rules. If you don't want to be in the game, get out now." Engle broke then, a ragged sob tearing from his throat and though he tried to control it, the emotions were plain on his face.

I let out a whimper as the Joker, unhappy with Engle's display of emotion, grabbed the camera and whirled it around to point at himself, mirroring the way he'd delivered the call for Batman to reveal himself. Bruce's hand, which was on my shoulder, slid down to grab my hand. I was thankful for the contact.

"But the bridge and tunnel crowd are in for a surprise," the Joker cackled after staring at the screen for a moment, dark eyes narrowed and red slash of a mouth twisted in what passed for a grin.

I turned to look at Bruce as the news footage switched back to the anchors. He was already moving across the bunker, aimed for the Batsuit. Alfred was there, ready to help. "Bruce, where do you want me for this?" I asked, my voice thin.

"I want you to get out of the city, go to your parents'."

"I'm not leaving. I want to help."

Bruce didn't turn to look, just kept changing and ignoring the glare I was firing at his back. "Your parents' house is out of the city limits, it's off the main islands. You'll be safe there form any attacks."

"I'm not leaving the city!" I repeated, only raising my voice marginally.

Half-dressed, Bruce turned; it was the same fight we'd been having since I had started working for Batman. He looked ready to fight, but something in my face or some thought he had at the last moment made his expression drop. "Eleanor," he started, voice much quieter; Alfred, who had been about to hand Bruce the next section of the suit, was suddenly occupied with some of Batman's tools. "I just lost Rachel to this madman. I'm not going to lose you too."

I looked up at him, ready to argue more, but the weight of the loss of Rachel was back in his face and it broke all my resolve. In that moment, I wanted to agree, to tell him that I would go out to my parents' house, but I couldn't. I couldn't make that promise when I knew I wouldn't, or couldn't, keep it. "Bruce, I am not going to run away. I'll stay down here and monitor the situation—I'll stay down here and do nothing—but I'm not going to leave the city. You may need more help than just Alfred can give, and I'm going to be here to give you that help." I took a step closer to Bruce, aware of a ball of apprehension forming in my gut. "I'm not going anywhere."

A few moments of silence passed where Bruce just stared down at me and I returned the heavy gaze, intent on not backing down; I hadn't up until this point and I wasn't going to now. "Okay," he said eventually, drawing me into a hug, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

It was the first fight I'd really won, but more than that, it was the first time Bruce had shown his complete trust in me. I returned the embrace, my arms wrapped around his chest. "Okay. Then where do you want me?"

He pulled away to finish donning the costume. "You've read the file on the sonar project. I want you at Wayne Enterprises, helping Lucius. Alfred can handle things down here. Get your things." Bruce turned back to face me and I was still standing there, a little dumfounded that I'd won the argument. "Let's go," he said before pulled the cowl over his face.

I threw my things back into my bag and followed Batman to the Batpod.

Author's Note.

Well Matt, I gave the other perspective thing a shot... Only because I could fit it into this chapter without compromising what I wanted to get across. How'd I do? Writing from Alfred's perspective was hard, especially because I've never done it, or even tried. I might try some more in next couple chapters, but this was as far as I was going to push it for now. I have an idea for a Gordon scene... But again, I won't be pushing it that far, probably.

It's just so much easier to write from Ellie's point of view.

And see my fanfiction-writers' liberty at work as I moved an entire conversation to fit my purposes?

Doing that felt weeeird.

I'm going to admit a faux pas. I couldn't remember if I'd ever said which hospital Liam and Naomi worked at, so for purposes of this story, they now work at Gotham General. And if it's different in my other Batman fiction, that's because those stories have nothing to do with the movie verse, m'kay? 'Kay, thanks. *stupid grin*

I couldn't remember if the Joker's video telling people to get out of Gotham came before or after the break-in at R&D at Wayne Enterprises, so I just went with before, because that's what was in my planning notes. Sorry if it's wrong and it bothers you, but since I'm writing most of this during class, I can't exactly go and watch the movie to double check, can I?

Anyways...

Enjoy! Only two chapters left!

Next Chapter: Sonar, Like a B... Submarine.