I don't own Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises, or any of the characters or plots found within the movies. Eleanor Black, her family and backstory, and all the plot points that are not from the movie are mine. The fic is rated for language and violence. It is a rewrite and reorganization of my two previous Nolan-verse fics "Superhero's Confidante" and "Chances Are." It will go through all three movies in the trilogy and feature time from before and after as well.

In the Shadow of the Bat
—The Trust Fund Brigade.

Gotham City was just waking up by the time we returned to the penthouse. I hadn't slept well on the plane—I didn't sleep well on regular planes, let alone ones with no proper seats or temperature control—but there was no time to sleep right now; Lau may have been back in the custody of GCPD, but we had a fundraiser to throw that evening and there was still a lot of preparation to be done, at least from the Batman side of things. There would be a hoard of wait staff at the penthouse in a few hours to take care of the more mundane preparations, under the ever-watchful eye of Alfred of course.

I looked longingly at the bed in the spare bedroom where I'd dropped my bag before heading for Bruce's room.

"So," I said as I stepped into the open area that constituted the room, defined only by the room dividers. "What do I need to grab from the bunker while you're out on the town, assuring the world that Bruce Wayne is home with his horde of ballerinas and ready to throw this party?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows at me, one corner of his mouth pulling up in amusement. The expression didn't cover his whole face, it just touched his eyes and all I could think about was the way his lips had felt when he'd kissed me. I shook my head and made myself listen to what he was saying. Now was not the time to be thinking about that.

"A cape, replacement bracers, both large and small batarangs, a new grappling line, and you can take the sticky bomb gun and the glider back."

I repeated the list back to him as he handed me the bag to take back to the bunker, and he nodded to confirm that I had it right. "Call me if you think of anything else," I said before my mind could wander off in the wrong direction again. "I'm going to run to my place first to get my things for the fundraiser, and then I'll head to the bunker." All I got was another nod as he returned to looking over the Batsuit he'd worn in Hong Kong. "All right, I'll see you later."

As I was leaving, I spotted Alfred in the kitchen, arguing with a middle-aged man who I thought was the head waiter for the company who'd be staffing the party. I almost paused to listen in, but that Batsuit needed to get into the panic room before people started arriving, before someone might see.

In the light traffic, it only took me fifteen minutes to get into the north end of Gotham and to my loft. As I walked through the open concept rooms to my closet, I realized the place didn't really feel like home anymore, it wasn't some place I was comfortable. Since I hadn't come home other than to sleep, shower, or change in the last few years, I wasn't really surprised. I mulled over the curious realization as I flipped through my closet, trying to decide on a dress for the party. Eventually I settled on a bright green thing because it was different than the blue or black I normally wore, and it was one my mother had made me buy and she was going to be there tonight. It was about an inch too long, so I had to pick a pair of heels that were higher than I was comfortable in, but it was a nice, I looked good in it, and the fundraiser was only for a few hours. I'd be fine.

On the way back out, I noticed the light on my answering machine was blinking. I dropped my pile of things on the couch and hit the button, trying to figure out who would call my home phone rather than my cell phone—I wasn't even sure why I still had the damn thing.

"Hi, this message is for Eleanor. It's Derek Avery, from Gotham Central Dojo. I just wanted to let you know that I now have a place in my class that I'll hold for you. You can reach me at the dojo or my cell—both numbers I believe you already have. I look forward to hearing from you."

I'd originally called the dojo right after Bruce had stopped teaching me. Since then, I'd practiced what I knew whenever I had some time—mostly while I was in the bunker, waiting for something to happen or for Batman to say something—but I'd been anxious to get back to learning. Gotham Central Dojo was the best one in the city, and they had a wide variety of lesson times. It had been several weeks since the call, and I'd almost given up hope. Standing there in my living room, I gave a small yell of excitement. I was on the phone with the dojo a moment later, my cell tucked between my head and my shoulder as I gathered up my things and hustled out of the apartment, barely remembering to lock the door on my way out.

My excitement didn't get to last very long.

I returned to the bunker about an hour later, laden down with my things and the things for Batman. I dropped my things in the spare bedroom and headed back to Bruce's bedroom and the entrance to the panic room where he was keeping the Batsuit for the night. Bruce was still gone, so I let myself into the hidden room, got everything put in its place and then decided I had time to take a nap.

When I woke up, I discovered I'd slept much longer than intended. The penthouse was full of men and women dressed in black and white, food, booze, and a lot of tables. Bleary-eyed and messy-haired and dressed in a baggy t-shirt and pyjama pants, I wandered downstairs to the main room, which had been cleared of all furniture and cleaned within an inch of its life. In the middle of everything stood Alfred, overseeing the commotion with his sharp eyes. I stood on the steps and watched for a moment.

"This is a black tie event," Bruce said from behind me.

I smiled and turned to look at him as he moved down to the step beside me. He was mostly dressed, just missing his tie and jacket. "What? This is the latest look from Milan," I replied with a flourish at my less-than-appropriate attire.

That actually got a short burst of laughter. I almost asked him about the kiss then, if it had meant anything, but I only got out a few words before the look on his face made me fall silent. If he'd been about to say anything though, it was cut off by the sudden increase of volume on a TV I hadn't previously noticed. It was breaking news, apparently. Bruce and I descended the stairs to join Alfred in front of the television, where the headline was "Batman Dead?" and the image was of a man in a Batman suit, lying on the ground with the exposed part of his face painted with the Joker's hideous grin. The reporter came on and warned the viewers that the following footage may be disturbing and I knew, I knew before the Joker was even mentioned, what I was about to see.

The video started and it was grainy and greenish and the guy—the imposter Batman who had died, Brian Douglas—was terrified. He was shaking and near to tears and the voice that was ordering him around belonged to the Joker. The fear I always felt when I saw the Joker or thought about him too much started to creep through my body.

Because he knew how scared I got when I had to face the Joker, Bruce reached back and took my hand.

I squeezed it tightly, but I made myself watch as the Joker tormented the poor man. I made myself watch and take in every detail that I could. I let myself be glad that it wasn't Bruce who was lying dead in the street outside the mayor's office. I let myself be sorry that the poor man had to die for doing something he thought was good. When Brian said that Batman meant he didn't have to be afraid of the Joker, I felt something like kinship and I squeezed Bruce's hand again.

When the Joker turned the camera around, he let out a giggle that sent fresh shivers down my spine. "Batman must take his mask off and turn himself in. Every day he doesn't, people will die. Starting tonight.

"I'm a man of my word."

The Joker's laugh filled the speakers and echoed in the silent room, even after Alfred had switched the TV off. As the fear slowly ebbed out of my body, I realized Bruce was squeezing my hand too. He wasn't scared though—he was angry. I could see it in the white line of his lips, the knot of muscle in his jaw. He wanted to go out right now and fight the Joker, stop him from hurting, from killing anyone else, but he couldn't.

I stepped closer and put my other hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to go get ready," I said, trying to keep any residual fear out of my words. "You just focus on being Bruce Wayne tonight. I'll be listening to the police scanner all night and I'll let you know if anything comes up. The Batsuit is here," I whispered. "You can go if you have to. Alfred and I can handle everything here. If we have to."

I didn't know what else I could say, if anything, so I just turned and left, climbing back upstairs to shower and change and prepare myself for a fundraiser that was going to be infinitely more tense and stressful than I originally thought.

An hour and a half later, when the sun was beginning to set, guests started to arrive, dressed in their finery and looking like a parade of peacocks. Or maybe I was just bitter and scared. They entered the main room, where the tables were laden with food and the waiters moved about the crowd with champagne, and slowly, the penthouse began to fill up. I kept close to the stairs, pacing while listening to the police scanner and watching for my parents, for Sarah, and for Sam. As I knew they would, Mom and Dad were among of the first to arrive, and my Mom spent a good long time grilling me on the trip to Hong Kong, my date with Sam, and Bruce's location. Thankfully, Sarah and her boyfriend Aaron arrived soon after, and my Dad took the opportunity to drag Mom away to greet some of their friends who were also in attendance. We shared a few words before she was off to do her thing and mingle.

"Is Bruce planning on making an appearance tonight?"

I pulled myself away from the police scanner in my ear and managed to smile a greeting at Rachel, who had appeared out of the crowd. She looked quite nice, but not happy about being there. I looked at the clock on the wall and then back at Rachel and the tall blond man standing slightly behind her. "He should be here any second, now that the guest of honour is here."

Harvey Dent flashed me a smile that was somehow both genuine and brilliant as he extended his hand. "Harvey Dent."

"Eleanor Black. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dent—I'm very impressed with what you've accomplished in Gotham, most recently getting Surillo to try so many of the organized crime families at once. Incredible." Dent actually looked a little… sheepish as he nodded his thanks, so I backed off. Who would have known he was modest? Rachel started to move away, and I took the opportunity to excuse myself. "I hope you two enjoy the party," I said, smiling at both Harvey and Rachel again before extracting myself from the area.

It was as I was crossing the room that the helicopter showed up, the thrumming of its blades interrupting every conversation in the room. Like everyone else, I stopped and watched Bruce Wayne—every inch the brainless, billionaire playboy tonight—stumble out of the helicopter, pulling three models out after him, all wearing bright dresses and stumbling around more than Bruce, though they were actually half in the bottle. I felt my mouth pull back as I tried to repress a smile. The balcony doors swung open and Bruce walked in, the models flanking him and doing their best to stay on their heels.

As Bruce moved towards the the middle of the room, saying hello or otherwise greeting everyone he passed, I continued my interrupted trek to find somewhere quieter and more private so I could better hear the police scanner. Bruce caught my eye and his face turned serious for a second. I gave him a small nod, and the moment passed. He knew I was still listening, that I would alert him if I heard anything. With the Joker's threat on TV that afternoon, I wasn't really in a partying mood and I didn't want to hear about anyone else being tortured or killed by the madman on the news tomorrow. If something did happen… maybe if I heard it early enough, Batman could stop him, could catch him, and this could all be over. Bruce began speaking to the room, but I didn't hear what he was saying. I had to listen.

"Eleanor."

I started at the sound of Sam's voice and looked up into his smiling face. He was standing in front of me, between me and the rest of the room. I'd backed myself up against a wall and Sam was too close for my comfort—I felt a little claustrophobic. Still, I smiled at Sam. "Hey. I was beginning to think you weren't going to show."

"My last patient… There was more wrong with him than I originally thought. I had to get him to the hospital."

"Oh, well I hope he's okay." I took a step forward, forcing Sam to back up, took a deep breath when I was in open space again. "You didn't have to come. You could have stayed with him." With my mind focused mostly on the Joker and the rest on keeping myself calm, I'd forgotten that Sam was supposed to show up. I opened my mouth to say something else, but—

"Ellie!"

I started for the second time in less than five minutes and mentally cursed at myself for being so on edge that I couldn't focus properly. I rounded on Bruce, who was approaching with a large, goofy grin on his face. "Hi Bruce," I mumbled.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "I was wondering where you'd snuck off to! And who might you be?" he asked, looking at Sam.

I gently elbowed Bruce in the ribs. "This is Dr. Sam Connors. Sam, this is Bruce Wayne, my oldest friend."

A few things happened then, nearly at the same time, things that entirely changed the course of the evening. First, Bruce disengaged from me and approached Sam, leading him back into the crowd with his hand on his arm and his intense tone. Second, the earpiece popped as someone started talking, nearly screaming, on the other end.

"The DNA that was found on the Joker card on Douglas's body has been identified. All units please respond: the DNA has been identified as Judge Surillo, Police Commissioner Loeb, and Harvey Dent."

My body went cold as the police band erupted with chatter. I gave my head a shake to clear the cobwebs brought on by fear and hurried to catch up with Bruce, wrapping my fingers around his arm. He stopped and turned, face serious. I don't know what he saw in my face, but suddenly, he was moving, leaving me and Sam standing with dumfounded looks on our faces, though I was willing to be the reasons behind those looks were very different.

Then the elevator bell dinged and the doors opened onto the main room, revealing the Joker and a handful of his thugs.

I lost the ability to move.

The white face, the greenish hair, the ghastly smile was less than fifty feet away from me. Even from the opposite side of the room, I could see every line in his face, the yellow on his teeth and he grinned. I heard the laughter building and I kept flashing on imagines of Brian Douglas and the torture he must have gone through before he died. The Joker scanned the room as he walked, slowly, deliberately into the crowd, and I knew he was here for Harvey, here to kill Gotham's White Knight.

"We are tonight's entertainment!" the Joker exclaimed, spinning on one foot, that grin still on his face. "Who wants to participate?"

Oh my God, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I had it mostly written and then my computer was like NOPE and crashed, and the auto recover function in Microsoft Word was also like NOPE, so I'm pretty sure it's a conspiracy. I also had a lot of trouble with the party scene. Anyways, here's the chapter and I hope you like it! The part a lot of you are looking forward to is in the next chapter. Almost there.