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 Five: Mob Banks and Escape Plans

The police chose early the next morning—pre-dawn early, not Batman early—to try and seize the banks where they knew the various mobs were keeping their money. Wrapped in a blanket I had thought to bring with me to avoid freezing, I listened to their scanners and walkie-talkies, not at all surprised as I heard noises of failure and frustration. The various mobs of Gotham City had somehow figured out what was going on and prepared for it. They'd moved their money. The only question was how had they found out? And, for that matter, how did they move so much money so quickly. I wasn't sure—didn't have the faintest idea, actually—but I told myself that was only because I hadn't achieved any rejuvenating sleep in a while and my brain wasn't functioning at its normal capacity. I liked to think that if I had been well-rested and in the best shape I could have been, I would have had the power to figure it out. Or maybe that was just my desire to be of help to Batman. Or maybe I just wanted to get some detective skills of my own…

Once the raid-of-oh-so-unhappy-results was over, I removed the headset from my ears and yawned loudly, my voice echoing off the walls of the currently empty Batbunker. I stretched up to the ceiling and picked up my cell phone as my limbs descended to normal height, almost subconsciously pressing the buttons to speed-dial Bruce's cell; he had been in and out of the bunker about an hour and a half before, changing faster than I'd ever seen him, for some reason I wasn't exactly sure of and didn't really care about. If he'd needed me at a meeting or something, he would have told me.

There were three rings before he answered. "What is it?" he asked.

"Ah, good morning to you too." I couldn't resist being a pain. It had been a while since I'd been able to flex my sarcasm muscle. Tired as I was—and hey, this is me we're talking about—the urge to annoy just couldn't be overpowered.

I could almost hear Bruce roll his eyes. "Good morning, then. Now, what is it? Do you have any news?"

Now I rolled my eyes as I got to my bare feet and began a circuit around the desk, using muscles that had been stationary for far too long. The concrete was cold. It served to somewhat wake me up. "Gordon and his men made to seize the mob banks about ten minutes ago." Bruce must be at Wayne Enterprises not to have heard anything; I had begun to realize I was his only source for immediate information when he himself wasn't plugged in. "They failed. All the money was already gone when they got there. They were just heading back to the MCU when I took the headset off, and yes, before you asked, I unplugged the headphones so I can still what's going on while I'm talking to you on the phone. I'm not going to miss anything."

He sighed. "All right. Well why don't you go home and get some rest? You've been down there for almost twenty-four hours straight."

"So? You've been down here longer."

"I don't have another job to do. When I saw Lucius last night, he asked me to remind you that you have an inventory report due tomorrow and three conference calls to take part in pertaining to the development of new Wayne Enterprises products."

"I know that. I've been working on the report and I've been prepared for the conference calls for weeks. I told you I could manage my job at Wayne Enterprises and this job as your assistant or whatever the hell it is I am." I narrowed my eyes at nothing in particular and clenched my teeth. I could hear the beginnings of an argument in his voice and I knew, in my current state, that I would fight back even though I knew it would most likely be the same fight we'd had many times before. "I can handle my work, Bruce. And I already told you I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not asking you to go anywhere. I'm just saying you should get some rest." There was a definite edge to Bruce's voice now, and I knew, somewhere in the part of my mind that was still rational, that I was turning a semi-normal conversation into an argument. "But you really should think about spending less time down there in 'Bat Central'. You don't need to be down there, Eleanor. Not as much as you have been—"

I stopped my circuit, ending up beside the Tumbler. "Bruce! We have been over this! And my side of the argument has not changed! I'm not going anywhere, Bruce! I lo—"

"I—"

"I love you Bruce." I paused for a moment, but he didn't say anything, so I continued. "I want to help you. I'm going to help you. It's just so igitating when you continue to push me away!"

There was a lengthy pause in which I realized what I'd just said. "Did you just say 'igitating'?"

"Shut up, I'm…" My voice trailed off and I pressed my lips together in a thin line. What I had been about to say would have confirmed his side of today's argument.

"Tired? Go home and get some rest."

"I'm coming back."

Bruce didn't say anything for a moment, although I heard him sigh. It wasn't an annoyed sigh. It was a consenting sort of a sigh. At least, I hoped it was. "I know that. I know you'll come back Ellie. Just go home and get some rest right now. There's nothing for you to do down there anyway."

Smiling to myself and feeling as if I had won a small victory, I nodded to nothing in particular. "Sounds good to me. I'll talk to you later," I said, and without waiting for him to reply, I hung up my phone and slipped it into my pocket. Deciding to actually honour my promise and wanting to get some recuperative rest for a change, I returned to the main computer station and gathered up my things, shoving them in my large bag and swinging it on my shoulder. I searched around for a moment, finding one flip-flop under the stool and the other one ten feet away on the floor. "How the hell did this get all the way over here?" I briefly wondered before slipping the shoe on my foot. I must have kicked it away by accident. When I was plugged in and listening to something, I tended to become completely absorbed and missed much of what was going on around me. The other day I had found a batarang lying in the middle of nowhere and it was only after serious thought that I remembered throwing it out of boredom while I was listening to the police scanner and hearing nothing of interest.

Once I had everything safely packed away and the large bag secured on my shoulder, I double-checked that all the equipment was still on and doing what it was supposed to. Satisfied, I crossed the bunker and stepped onto the lift. The weight-sensors activated and the section of floor lifted upwards. As the doors of the cargo-crate-turned-lift opened, I blinked at the early sunlight bouncing off the water to my right and my bright blue car to my left. It was warm and calm, a pleasant morning, but I couldn't help feeling a little miffed about having to leave the bunker. With a start, I realized I was becoming quite the hermit or recluse or whatever you want to call people who don't venture into the outdoors much. I also realized that I didn't really care. I climbed into my car and drove rapidly home—the streets were pretty much empty this early in the morning—and entered my apartment after a quiet elevator ride. Since Blaze was still at my parents' house, there was no barking or jumping to greet me; I made a mental note to go and visit Blaze at some point before heading back to the bunker that night. I did miss my dog. I unpacked my bag and left it sitting empty on the kitchen counter, knowing I would be packing it as soon as I woke up and there was no need to put it away in the closet. Plus, if I did that, I might never find it again.

As I was heading past the divider into my bedroom that didn't really feel like it was mine anymore, the phone rang. I moved over to the table beside the couch and glared at the blinking light that said I had fourteen new messages. "Hello?" I said as I picked up the phone.

"Ah, hello Eleanor. I'm glad I could reach you at home. You never answer you cell phone anymore," Lucius Fox said with a smile in his voice.

"Hm… Sorry about that Mr. Fox."

"It's quite all right Eleanor, but I was hoping you could come in for a few minutes to pick up some things for Mr. Wayne. He left before I could give it to him this morning," Lucius said. The tone told me what he wanted me to deliver to Bruce had to do with Batman.

"Yeah, I'll be right in."

"Thank you. And perhaps you'd care to take a look at the progress of the new suit?"

"Oh, I'd like that!" I grinned widely, momentarily not tired anymore. "I'll be there in half an hour. Bye," I said before I replaced the phone on the hook.

As I headed back into my bathroom, I pressed the "play" button on my answering machine and prepared myself to listen to my mother's voice asking again and again why I wasn't answering my phone. I wasn't disappointed. Seven of the messages were from Naomi, increasing from calm to downright panic as they played. She wanted to know why I wouldn't answer my phone and why I hadn't called her back and why I hadn't come to visit in a while and why I was never at home. Evidently, I'd have to start answering my cell phone for people other than Bruce or Alfred or my Mom might resort to drastic actions to find out the answers for herself. There were three messages from Liam telling me to please pick up the phone to save my mother's sanity and his eardrums. Two messages were from Lucius Fox, both about work, one asking how the report was coming and the other reminding me about the conference calls. One message was from the landlord of the building, telling me my rent was going up, which was something I'd already guessed was going to happen, and the last message was someone from the cable company talking about some packaged deal that didn't apply to me because I was never home anymore and I didn't have the same phone and cable company anyway.

Deciding I wouldn't call my Mom but talk to her when I went to visit Blaze later, I stripped down and hopped into a hot shower, the heat initially lulling me farther into sleep. The cold blast of air that hit me as soon as I stepped out of the shower however, snapped me into near-to full alertness. I dressed in black suit pants and my favourite bright blue button-down shirt, slipping a pair of well-worn ankle boots onto my feet that were much more comfortable than any of my other office-suitable shoes. I transferred everything I thought I'd need into my regular-sized purse and once again headed down to the car. The drive to Wayne Enterprises was a little slower than it would have normally been, as the morning commute had begun. I turned up the radio while I lounged in traffic and sung half-heartedly along to the songs I knew and tried very hard not to think about the Batbunker. By the time I'd parked underneath Wayne Tower and made my way all the way to the top where Lucius' office was located, it had been closer to forty-five minutes than half and hour and I was apologizing even before I landed in the chair in front of Lucius Fox's large desk. He hushed me with a gesture and a stern yet comforting look before pouring me a cup of coffee from the pot on the table beside his desk. Once the steaming mug was in my hands, he settled back in his chair and fixed his appraising brown eyes on me.

"How are you Eleanor?" he asked. It sounded like a simple question, but there was an ulterior meaning.

"I'm fine," I said truthfully. "A little tired and worn out, but fine. I'll have everything done for you on time, if that's what you're asking," I added with a look only slightly disdainful.

Lucius' smile tightened as he nodded. "I was getting to that, but I'm more concerned with how you are handling your situation. You look worn out, Eleanor. How long do you think you can keep this up?"

"As long as I have to." My posture straightened as my stubbornness flared. The emotion faded as soon as I remembered who I was talking to. "I can do this Lucius. Now, you said you had some things for me to deliver to Mister Wayne?" I settled back in the chair and sipped my coffee. Lucius sighed before withdrawing several thick folders from a pile on his desk. He slid them across the desk into my hands and I unceremoniously stuffed them in my purse. Bruce would berate me for the condition of the documents later if he felt so inclined, so the disapproving look on Lucius' face had no real effect. It probably should have. "Is that all you wanted me to deliver?"

Lucius sighed. "Yes. Now, I suppose you'd like to see the suit?"

All the grumpiness or whatever it was vanished instantly and I felt my face break into a grin. Lucius took that as the obvious yes and led me to an elevator concealed in the bookshelf on the other side of his office that would take us down to the subbasement levels of Wayne Enterprises. It wasn't a matter of secrecy as everyone or almost everyone knew the defunct department existed, but other than those authorized—Bruce, Lucius, and I—he didn't want anyone entering applied sciences where the completed things for Batman were kept alongside the gadgets no one would buy. Whenever something new was being designed and built, it was done in different sections and then assembled by Lucius or Bruce. As the lift descended I was reminded of the long inventory treks I had taken through the cavernous room in what seemed a lifetime ago but was, in reality, only a year or so. The lift settled quietly into its station at the bottom of the shaft and the doors opened almost immediately. As we stepped out into the concrete cavern, the fluorescent lights above fluttered to life, casting a white-blue glow on the techno-wonderland filling the room. I followed Lucius through the vast room. In the middle of one of the long rows, between a metal cabinet and something that was covered with a white sheet, Lucius stopped and gestured to another metal cabinet, this one with its top propped open and a portable workbench unfolded beside it.

I stepped closer and onto my tiptoes so I could peer at the black material in the top section. "What's it made of?"

"The actual armour is made of hardened Kevlar and fashioned into separate plates. The pieces will be attached onto on a titanium-dipped fibre tri-weave fabric to allow for more flexibility which is what our vigilante friend requested. It's not completely assembled yet, but I have put together most of the chest piece." Lucius leaned forward and pulled open a drawer about waist-high. "Have a look."

Inside the drawer, what was obviously the armour that would cover Bruce's chest and stomach, sat arranged in a dense foam-like material. It was smooth and black, and across the main piece, the bat which had become Bruce's symbol was embossed. It was incredible armour; no less than I had expected from Wayne Enterprises, but still. I ran my fingers gently over the edges of the bat symbol and tried to imagine seeing it from the eyes of a criminal. Tried to imagine what it was they felt before Bruce knocked them into unconsciousness. I couldn't do it. I knew they were usually scared, but I just couldn't bring myself to fear the Batman. Not even hypothetically.

"Eleanor… what are you doing?"

I withdrew my hand, surprised at the question. "I didn't think it would be a problem for me to touch it."

"That's not what I meant. I meant with Bruce. With Batman."

"Oh…"

I paused. It was not like Lucius to ask such a personal question. Not so out of blue like this. OK, so maybe it wasn't out of the blue, but it still had caught me off guard. I stared down at the suit piece in front of me and asked myself that same question over and over. I knew the answer of course, but I wasn't sure if I should divulge those feelings to Lucius. What if he thought it an immature attempt at getting what I wanted? What if he thought my feelings were ill-founded? No, he wouldn't think those things. Well, if he did, he wouldn't voice them. Not quite so… harshly. Sighing, I looked up at Lucius, a small frown on my lips.

"I… I love him, Lucius," I said quietly. "I love Bruce Wayne and this—locking myself in the bunker and doing whatever Batman needs—is the only way I can get close and stay close to him. This is the only way I can be with him. I'm afraid that… that if I leave Batman's world, that if I remove myself from this position, I'll fade from his life." I ran my fingers around the edge of the symbol again, slowly, as if I was getting answers from the contact. "I… The only time I'll see him will be at parties when he's acting like a complete idiot. Look at Rachel! She loved Bruce, maybe she still does, but she doesn't want Batman and she just keeps getting farther and farther away, no matter how hard Bruce tries to keep her close!" Unwanted, my eyes began to burn and my nose suddenly felt full. I sobbed once, the tears falling quicker than I could stop them. "I can't lose him…" My hand balled into a fist on top of the bat symbol.

Slowly, as if he was unsure his actions would be welcome, Lucius stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, holding me tightly as I cried. Everything I had kept inside while talking to Bruce, while thinking about the awkward situation I had placed myself in, was coming out in unrestrained torrents; all the fear, anger and doubt. To the one person I had never even considered telling. Eventually the tears did pass. But the damage—if you could call it that—had been done. Lucius knew how I really felt and what was keeping me locked up in the Batbunker. I didn't know what he'd do with that information, but he was the only other person who knew the complete truth of how I felt. I'm sure Alfred had guessed it, and maybe even Bruce had, but I had never told them outright.

After I had calmed down, Lucius and I returned to his office, where I drank another cup of coffee and listened as Lucius told me about the new suit and the Batpod: a motorcycle type vehicle that they had worked into the construction of the Tumbler, and the only piece of technology in the bunker I had never seen.

I spent the rest of the morning in the backyard of my parent's house, playing with the dogs and talking to my Mom, spewing some story about how I'd been super busy with work for Lucius. I added in some detail about taking on assistant duties for Bruce and while my mother was thrilled at the idea of Bruce and I spending more time together, she was decidedly less thrilled about me being worked half to death. She stood on the back porch rambling on and on about how I should take better care of myself while I meandered back and forth through the grass throwing the various things the dogs brought back to my feet. I knew she was right, but as I didn't seem to be in the habit of listening to people lately, I largely ignored her nagging and devoted the majority of my attention to the dogs.

This was no small feat, as with Blaze at the mansion, there were four dogs gallivanting around the expansive yard. Three of the dogs were big enough to knock down a full grown human: Blaze, who was the smallest of the three, Bear, who was a Norwegian Elkhound my mother had adopted, and Shazir, who was clearly the most unique of all the dogs my family had ever owned as she was a wolf-dog who resembled a wolf more than any dog I'd ever seen. Last, but not least, even though he was the smallest, was Beast, a black Pug who ran like the wind to keep up with his larger companions and who could bark louder than the others combined. Playing with the dogs was a suitable way to ignore the nagging need to go back to the Batbunker, even though Naomi's constant chattering made me want to run right back to the cave-substitute. I loved my Mom, but man, could she talk.

"Eleanor, are you listening?"

"Yeah," I mumbled throwing a very damp stick for Beast; the branch was almost twice as long as his body.

"Don't lie to me." The tone of Naomi's voice made me turn around. She was looking at me with her best angry-mom look, her green eyes as dark as I'd ever seen them. "What is wrong with you Eleanor? You're not acting like yourself." I sighed, feeling the tears well up inside me again. After talking to Lucius, anytime my thoughts drifted to my rather desperate situation, I started getting all weepy. Naomi's angry demeanour faltered as she saw the tears bud in my eyes and she descended the porch stairs and throw her arms around me. "Oh Ellie!" she explained with her subconscious flair for the dramatic. "What is it?"

I pushed away from her comforting embrace and wiped the few tears that had managed to escape from my cheeks. "Nothing Mom, it's… nothing." What could I tell her? Talking about my feelings would lead to me talking about Batman and Bruce, and my Mom was smart enough to figure out they were one in the same just because I felt the same way about them. Or, she might be. I wasn't going to take the chance in any case. "I'm just… tired."

"Get some rest."

My life was starting to sound like a broken record.

Maybe I should listen.

After a long day of being "Bruce Wayne: Billionaire Extraordinaire", I had been more than relieved to don the cowl and cape of Batman and take the darkening streets of Gotham. Eleanor had been back in the bunker when I arrived, looking significantly more well-rested than she had in a long time. Regardless, there had been something off about her countenance and the way she sat slumped at the desk. Answers to the questions I asked were short and free of her usual sarcasm, and she hadn't looked at me once. When I had left the bunker, she maintained radio silence and stuck to listening to the police scanner. I didn't pay her odd behaviour much more mind as I ventured into the streets. If there was something wrong and she wanted to talk about it, she would.

I had only been patrolling the rooftops for a short while when the Batsignal appeared on the clouds above the Major Crimes Unit. It seemed a little early for Gordon to use the signal—he usually waited until the early hours of the morning. The Tumbler slid easily into a dark alley near the police station and I grappled to the roof where I landed in the shadows and was surprised to see not only the familiar face of Jim Gordon, but also Harvey Dent, the new district attorney; rather than his usual calm, he appeared very flustered and impatient. He and the police lieutenant were arguing. The conversation didn't improve much once my presence had been noted. Lau of LSI Holdings, who's business and his earnings had been suspect to me for a long time, had disappeared from Gotham, apparently around the same time as all the mob money had vanished from the bank vaults. There was no doubt he was involved.

"We need Lau back," Dent said, hands on his hips and doing his best to implore the importance of the situation on me. It was not needed.

"If I get him to you, can you get him to talk?" I asked.

"I'll get him to sing."

That was all I needed to hear. I dropped back down to where the Tumbler sat hidden; thanks to the hearing devices in the ears of my cowl, I heard the conversation continue above me. I had started Dent with my sudden departure.

Eleanor was still in her despondent mood when I returned around three. She looked quite worn out again, but I didn't say anything about it. Her tendency to argue was more than likely amplified in her current state. "I'm going to Hong Kong," I said as I removed the cowl and returned it to the hook. The sudden statement had the desired effect: she turned and look back at me, surprise and confusion on her face. "After Lau."

She turned back to the computer screens as I changed into the jeans and t-shirt Alfred had left waiting. "Why do you have to go?"

There was worry in her voice, but I knew she wouldn't elaborate on it. I was grateful for that fact, as, had I been talking to Rachel, she would have done everything she could to deter me from going. "The Chinese won't extradite a national under any circumstances. If he's going to talk—and Dent assures me he can get him to talk—I've got to get him back to Gotham first."

"What about your party for Dent?"

"It can wait until we get back."

"We?"

"Don't you want to come?"

Eleanor paused, which was an action that added something else weird to her behaviour. I had never known her to pass up a chance to help Batman. To help me. "I'm… not sure," she mumbled. She turned to look at me and the confusion I'd seen in her face earlier was more than present in her cobalt eyes. There was something wrong. Still, I didn't pry. "I'll think about it. Shouldn't I stay here and monitor Gotham while you're gone? The Joker isn't going anywhere… Someone should keep an eye on him, right?" She was trying to rationalize her out of character decision.

"It's up to you."

"Then I'd like to sleep on it."

Without saying anything else, she gathered her things and moved to stand by the lift. I looked around the bunker, and deciding there was nothing I could do tonight that couldn't be done at the penthouse—namely, figuring out what new gadgets I'd need from Lucius and Wayne Enterprises to pull off the mission in Hong Kong—I followed her up and out. Without any protesting, she consented when I suggested she spent the night at the penthouse instead of driving all the way back to her apartment, especially when she was so tired. We took her car—there was no point in calling Alfred when she and I were headed to the same place—and when we arrived, she walked straight to the guest room and shut the door.

"Did something happen?" Alfred asked, appearing almost as silently as I did as Batman, burdened with a tray holding a put of coffee and a large mug. The butler always seemed to know what I needed it and when.

I stared at the door for a moment. "I'm not sure, Alfred."

"I am sure we will find out when Miss Black is ready to ask for help, Master Bruce."

I nodded. "Alfred, has the computer been linked with the system in the bunker?" He seemed a little shocked by the sudden change of topic, but as was Alfred's way, he recovered quickly and nodded. "Good. We'll be taking a trip to Hong Kong to retrieve Mister Lau."

"All in the quest for justice, I assume?"

"I'll be needing an alibi for Bruce Wayne's extended absence from the city."

"I'm sure I'll come up with something."

Author's Note… So I lied in the last chapter when I told you all this fic would be my main concentration… Oh well. Sorry about that. I just go where my creative mind takes me. Bear with a writer-in-training, will you? Thanks darlings. (beams) As it's been a while since I wrote anything Batman, there might be a little out-of-character-ness and I apologize. I also apologize for the lack-lusterness of this chapter. I've been totally Trekker-brained lately, so it was hard for me to focus on Batman. Never fear, I will continue to write Batman no matter how much I'm in space!

Oh, and "igitating" is a combination of "aggravating" and "irritating". I accidentally said it once. (sticks tongue out)

Here's a question: In Batman: The Animated Series, why do the police all fly blimps?

Next Chapter: The Importance of Instructions. Maybe we should read the instruction manual first…