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 Eleven: I Live In Batman's Basement.

I left the penthouse with a smile on my face, the feeling of the hug Bruce had given me still lingering somewhere in my gut, and that strange sensation that everything would be all right; apparently I had temporarily forgotten about the Joker and the fact that Harvey Dent had just turned himself in as Batman. Bruce had whispered something that sounded a lot like "thank you" against my hair and although I wasn't sure what he was thanking me for—believing in Batman, fighting against his decision, admitting how much I had come to rely on the masked vigilante, or something else entirely—it made me ridiculously happy; that I had something to rub in Rachel's face didn't hurt either. He had also given me to the code to open the bunker doors before I'd left.

As I made my way back to my apartment to change and get the things I would need while in the Bunker, my thoughts remained on the woman who had, for so long, been the one person I'd thought of as my rival, and how similar we really were. That thought made me grimace, but I knew it was something I had to face.

We had both grown up with Bruce. Rachel's mother had worked for the Waynes and my parents had been friends their close friends for years before there were any children in the picture. Bruce, Rachel and I had sort of been forced into friendship, since there weren't any other kids around Wayne Manor, but Rachel and I had never really gotten along. We had always been similar, but just different enough to really grate on each other. At first, it had been little things, childish things: arguments over ice cream, afternoon activities, movies, inconsequential things that put us into the habit of arguing. It hadn't taken me long to start rubbing in the money my family had, and once we had started school, it had taken Rachel even less time to start bragging about her higher marks.

Through all the fighting, one thing remained constant—Bruce.

As childhood crushes developed, out rivalry developed into bids for Bruce's attention, a race Rachel usually appeared to be winning. When Martha and Thomas Wayne had passed away, and Bruce had become withdrawn, we had both started to fade from his life. Realizing that, I had pulled myself out and focused more on the friends who had actually been interested in hanging out with me. Alfred had relieved the other house staff at Wayne Manor, including Rachel's mother, and Rachel had withdrawn as well, despite the butler's urging his charge to keep at least a couple friends close.

It had seemed like no time had passed before Bruce disappeared from Gotham.

I sighed as I pulled into the parking garage of my building. I knew why my thoughts were on the past, on Bruce and Rachel, but I hadn't expected the memories to feel as raw as they did. In answer to my sudden melancholy, I packed my bag—a change of clothes, hairbrush, laptop, iPod, books, keys, sweater, pillow, anything else I thought I might need—as quickly as I could and started for the bunker, knowing I would feel better when I was within the concrete walls.

The fight through late morning traffic kept my mind occupied until I was in the bunker. I stepped off the lift and stood silently as it rose back into place; without everything set up, the bunker seemed somehow sad. With a slight grimace, I crossed the bunker to where the chair normally stood and dropped my bag and pillow before heading to the wall and opening the door to the hidden room where Bruce and Alfred had stored the desks, computers and other equipment that couldn't be burned; none of it could have led back to Rachel or Lucius or myself because I was pretty sure Bruce had wiped the hard drives and if anyone traced the serial numbers or anything, the purchases would all lead back to shell companies of Bruce's.

I stared at the heavy-looking desks and put my hands on my hips. With another sigh, I stepped into the storage area and manoeuvred myself until I was standing behind the main desk and I have enough room to brace myself and push the heavy piece of furniture back towards its place on the floor. Luckily, Bruce had had the foresight to attach something to the feet of the desk that allowed it to slide over the smooth concrete easier than it would have otherwise and I was able to wrestle it across the room. Panting slightly, I returned to the storage room and continued the task of moving furniture back into place and hauling out the rest of equipment that hadn't been destroyed. By the time I was finished and I sank down onto the desk stool, I was covered in sweat and breathing heavily, but I was still smiling and still in that happy place.

The computers flickered to life once they were plugged in and turned on and I found my suspicions had been confirmed: Bruce had wiped the hard drives. I huffed and climbed back into the storage room to look for the program discs so I could reinstall everything. As I was digging through the few boxes that were left, my stomach grumbled loudly, announcing it was hungry and I groaned in response, even as I pulled the box out to the desk, where I plunked it down and looked around for Alfred; the butler had a knack for showing up with food just when you needed it. He wasn't there.

"Damn it," I cursed, the first words I'd spoken since I'd arrived in the bunker sounded loud and awkward in the silent air. I scrunched up my features and glared at the lift, willing it to descend and reveal the butler, carrying a basket full of delicious home-cooked food. If he didn't show up I was going to have to go out, sweaty and grimy as I was, and get some fast food; the very thought of food had my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling louder than before. "Come on..." I breathed. When nothing happened, I turned back to the desk and started pulling out the copious amounts of computer disks, marvelling at the amount of information Bruce had collected in such a short time. "We've collected." I paused and marvelled at that revelation for a moment, the smile from before breaking over my face again.

As the first program was installing, I pulled the arm chair over to the desk and lounged with my ankles crossed on the desk, my laptop open on my lap as I attempted to do my job while ignoring my stomach, which continued to protest loudly at the lack of food.

I was in the middle of checking my e-mail when my thoughts spontaneously returned to the past.

After Bruce had disappeared from Gotham, Rachel and I had had the unfortunate luck of repeatedly running into each other. The most memorable of these occurrences took place almost a year after Bruce had disappeared. I had gotten into the habit of stopping by the manor several times a month to see if Bruce had returned and to spend some time with Alfred, who I was worried would get awfully lonely in the big house all by himself, and on this particular occasion, I had arrived around dinner and Alfred had insisted I stay. We had been in the middle of eating when there was a knock at the kitchen door.

"That will be Ms. Dawes," Alfred had said, getting up from the table.

I frowned, but refrained from saying anything, instead becoming very interested in the chicken leg and baked potato on my plate. Rachel and I had always come to the kitchen door when calling on Bruce or Alfred, ever since we were children. The front door was for formal company, a title we hadn't held in our entire lives.

"Will you be joining us Ms. Dawes?" I heard Alfred ask as they entered the small dining area beside the kitchen.

"Oh, no. I just came to see how you were doing—"

"And if Master Bruce has returned?" Alfred asked with humour in his voice.

"Have you heard anything from him?" Rachel paused as her eyes met mine, and a muscle in her jaw twitched, but she didn't say anything to me, just turned back to Alfred, who was standing beside his chair, waiting for Rachel to be seated. She dropped into the chair and nodded once at the butler.

"I'm afraid not, Ms. Dawes. If I do hear anything, you will be the first to know."

I concentrated on chewing my chicken at that comment and as the conversation turned to small talk as Alfred and Rachel caught up. From what I'd gathered, Rachel hadn't been able to come and see Alfred in almost a month, thanks to her placement at some law firm or another. She was in her first year of law school and I was trying to decide what exactly I was going to do with my life, as I had completed my undergrad the year before. Bruce had vanished from Princeton two years ago and Alfred hadn't heard a word from him since. The last time he had been home had been during his second year at Princeton, when he'd returned to Gotham to witness the trial of Joe Chill, the man who had murdered his parents.

I remained quiet until Rachel got up to leave.

"Eleanor, can we have a word?" she asked.

Alfred, who had half-risen from his chair, settled back down, no doubt not wanting to get involved in the rivalry he'd witnessed for our entire lives. "Sure," I said. I dropped my napkin on the table as I got to my feet and followed her to the kitchen door.

"Haven't you given up yet?"

I frowned. The words were accusatory, but her tone was curious and a little worried. I knew how she felt; I knew she loved Bruce, and I knew she loved Bruce more than I did. To me, at that point in our lives, he was just a close friend—the deeper attraction thought to be nothing more than childhood crushes—but someone I didn't want to lose. Part of me would be destroyed if we lost Bruce. "What do you mean?" I asked instead of snapping. Don't get me wrong, that biting comment was right on the edge of my tongue and it took a lot of effort to keep it there.

"It's been a year."

"So?" I asked, my voice coming out quiet snappish this time. "Bruce is my friend. I'm not just going to give up." She opened her mouth, but I kept talking, cutting her off. "Don't even start that whole 'you love him more' thing, because I know you do. Besides, we're too old for all that now." I took a step back and crossed my arms under my chest. "You can give up if you want, but I'm not going to."

Rachel pressed her lips into a thin line. "Eleanor, when Bruce comes back..."

I held up my hand and swallowed a hard lump that had appeared in my throat. "Don't tell me you're going to get married or whatever, Rachel. I don't want to hear it. I just want my friend back."

We stared at each other for a moment longer, the slightly taller woman using her height and the added inches of her high heels to try and stare me down or intimidate me or something she was not going to accomplish. Eventually, she turned smartly on her heel and left the manor, the door banging shut behind her. Alfred appeared at my side.

"Is everything all right Ms. Black?"

I looked at Alfred and nodded. "I guess so."

The beeping of the computers brought me back to the present. I switched the disks and began installing the next program as I configured the one that had just finished, but I wasn't really paying that much attention to what I was doing. My thoughts were still in the past and how it related to today, to the press conference and to what had just happened. Rachel did still love Bruce, but she also loved Harvey. The life she had thought she was going to have when Bruce returned to Gotham was gone, and now, because Harvey had turned himself in instead of Bruce, the life she had thought she was going to have with Harvey was gone. I frowned at the computer screen as I realized I was starting to empathize with her, sympathize even.

"What's with the frown?"

Bruce voice shocked me out of my reverie and I jumped; thankfully, my laptop wasn't in my lap anymore, or it probably would have tumbled to the floor. "I was just thinking," I said, turning to smile at him, my cheeks tinged with red.

He grabbed the other desk and moved it farther to the right, pulling it closer to the wall. "About?"

For the briefest second, I debated telling him everything that had crossed my mind. "The past," I finally answered, vaguely. I left the program installing and walked over to stand beside Bruce. "Did you bring any food?" I took the container Bruce handed me, a slightly greedy gleam in my eye; it was full of still-warm pork, rice and peas. I dropped back into the chair and started shovelling the food into my maw.

"Hungry?"

"I forgot to bring food with me. I was so focused on getting everything back the way it should be."

Bruce looked at me, a slightly reproachful look on his face that said he was not impressed, but I brushed it off as it was a look I was used to seeing. "Well you've made progress," he said.

"I would have moved the Tumbler back out here, but I don't have the keys."

Bruce disappeared behind another section of wall—the one which led to the secret roadway—to do just that. I left him to move things around and put them back where he wanted them while I continued to work at the computers. Eventually I reached the last disc and just as I was inserting it into the drive, I heard the shallow whirring that signalled the movement of the hydraulic motors powering the rack holding the Batsuit. I got to my feet and returned to Bruce's side. He was standing in front of the suit, staring into the empty eyeholes of the cowl, his hands balled into loose fists at his sides. I moved closer to him on a faint impulse, just close enough for our arms to lightly touch. At the first contact, he looked down at me.

"They're transferring Dent to Central Holding tonight," he said quietly.

"Do you think the Joker will try something?" He nodded, still looking at me. Following another faint impulse, I reached out and wrapped my hand loosely around his. "Are you going to end it tonight?"

"I have to. I can't let Harvey's sacrifice be for nothing."

I squeezed his hand before folding my arms around myself again and heading back to the computers. I watched the bar indicating the progress of the installation, but I was listening to the small noises Bruce made as he changed into the Batsuit. There was something significant in the action of becoming Batman that evening. When he was dressed in the entire suit save the cowl, Bruce came to stand behind me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I titled my head backwards until the top of it was pressed against the back of the armchair and I was looking up at him.

"Alfred will be along with more food in a bit. I want you both plugged in."

I placed my hand on top of his, regardless of how awkward it was at my present angle, and was rewarded as he shifted his grip so he could hold my hand. "I'll be here."

"I know."

Bruce donned the cowl and whisked across the concrete floor to the Tumbler. He climbed in and the tank-like Batmobile roared to life, signalling the start of Batman's patrol.

Alfred arrived half an hour later with a picnic basket full of food for the two of us. I took notice of his arrival, but my attention was almost fully on my cell phone, which was sitting on the desk in front of me.

"Are you waiting for a call?" Alfred asked.

I took the container Alfred had offered and set it on the desk beside my phone. "No. I'm debating whether or not Rachel would take my call."

"You could always leave a message."

"I know, but this is something I think I'd rather say in person."

"What, if I may ask, is it that you want to say?"

I looked up at Alfred who was sitting on the stool and then sighed and opened the container to find a very delicious looking soup. Without being able to identify the variety, I took the offered spoon and began eating. "I wanted to apologize, actually. I just realized the magnitude of what she's been going through since Bruce reappeared."

Alfred gave me a knowing look and then smiled. "Call her."

I sighed and tried to look bothered by the fact that Alfred had just talked me into something I wasn't really sure I wanted to do; it was more something I had to do. I picked up the phone and keyed in Rachel's number from my contacts. I couldn't remember under what circumstances her number had come to be in my phone, but it didn't really matter. It rang three times before she picked up. "Rachel? It's Eleanor."

"Oh. Can I help you?" she asked darkly.

"I, uh... I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I realized today what you've been going through since Bruce returned to Gotham and, well, it sucks, to put it bluntly. I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

There was stunned silence on the other end of the line for almost a full minute. I ran my fingers back through my hair, willing her to say something, anything. "Thank you Eleanor," she said curtly. "And... congratulations on keeping Batman," she said, her voice betraying that she thought the phrasing was weird. So did I, but I wasn't going to say anything. "I hope he can stop the Joker."

There was a flare of anger inside, but I did my best to push it down. "He will." I searched my brain for something to say. "Rachel, be careful, okay?"

"I will."

The line clicked dead and I dropped the phone back on the desk with a sigh. I sucked in a deep breath and turned to my food.

Something had gone terribly wrong with the transfer to Central Holding, just like Bruce had thought it would.

The call had come through about an hour after he started patrol: a roadblock on the transfer route, one bad enough to drive them down onto Lower 5th Avenue, a place blocked from the overhead view of the helicopters. The perfect place for the Joker to attack. Batman headed for the route immediately, but there was no way he would reach it before the attack began.

Alfred and I were tuned into the police band, listening to the chatter as a garbage truck began to sweep police cars off the route, out of the convoy. Someone called for backup and a cacophony of shots rang out, harsh over the headset. The Joker was attacking the armoured car that Dent was in, and by the increased gunfire after a moment of silence, he was going to up his fire power until he could break through the side of the vehicle. There was a terrifying explosion, but by all reports on the police band, Dent was still safe.

I bit of a small scream, but forced myself to keep the headset in place. Alfred cast a concerned look that I pretended not to see as I mumbled "Oh God" over and over again. I kept seeing Batman lying on the ground, bleeding. I had to shake my head to get the images out; I had work to do. I couldn't turn into a quivering mass if I was going to keep my figurative place at Batman's side. I continued to mutter, but I clutched the headset to my ears as if that'd help.

There were more shouts for backup, but the blinking light that said Bruce was signalling us drew my attention. I changed the channel on the headset. "What's going on down there?" I asked. I cleared my throat when my voice came out all high and squeaky.

Bruce paused only briefly at the strangeness of my voice. I only caught the pause because I'd been around him so close for so long. "It's the Joker. He's after Dent. He's got an RPG."

"Be careful," I said lamely. I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. "Sorry; nevermind. Just... get him." Bruce didn't say anything, but I could visualize the small grin he would have given me. "I'll remain on this channel." The roar of the Batmobile's engine was oddly comforting, even amidst all the other chaotic noises I could just barely hear. That is, until a high-pitched whine set my teeth on edge. "What the fuck is that?"

There was an explosion, too close to be anything but the Tumbler exploding.

"Bruce?" I called, my voice barely above a whisper and still way more high-pitched than normal.

There was no answer for what were the two longest minutes of my life. I looked at Alfred, who took my hand and gave it a squeeze. I knew I should switch back to the police band, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, not when I wasn't sure if Bruce was still alive; against my will, a faint whimper escaped my lips and Alfred squeezed my hand tighter as I fought the urge to cling to him.

"Have to eject the Batpod," Bruce said, his voice tight with anger.

I exhaled loudly, relieved and then yanked the headset from my head. Disengaging myself from Alfred, the chair and the system and began to pace in a square around the bunker, hot tears stinging my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. It wasn't as if the situation was any more stressful than the other nights I listened it—Bruce always ran the risk of dying when he was under cape and cowl—but there was something pushing me beyond the normal limits I could deal with. Maybe it was the presence of the Joker, a criminal unlike any Bruce had faced before, even the Scarecrow, or maybe it was that my emotions were already rubbed raw from my mental tussle with my feelings towards Rachel. Whatever it was, or whatever the combination was, I made it to the far wall of the bunker and dropped to my butt with my back against the wall and cried.

Alfred remained plugged in, as it would be irresponsible to leave the set unattended; I said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't set it up so I would be able to hear, far away as it was. His eyes remained on me however, and I returned the gaze even as I cried my stress out; the fatherly affection in Alfred's eyes was beyond comforting. I wished silently that Blaze was in the bunker with me.

"Ms. Black," Alfred said softly.

"Yes?" I sobbed.

"You should hear this."

There was a note of urgency in Alfred's tone, so I pushed myself to my bare feet and padded quickly across the bunker back to the desk. I leaned against the cold slab of the desktop and pulled the headset back on, tears still on my cheeks. I wondered what Alfred could want me to hear. I knew he wouldn't let me hear anything that would hurt me, not intentionally anyway, so regardless of the kernel of hesitation in my mind, I listened.

I could hear the Joker laughing and a cold shiver raced up and down my spine.

"Drop it," a familiar voice demanded.

My breath caught my throat. That voice couldn't belong to who I thought it did—he was dead.

The Joker said something I didn't quite catch, words that dissolved into further laughter.

"We got you, you son of a bitch," the familiar voice said again.

I sobbed once. The voice belonged to Gordon. He wasn't dead. I sobbed again and a smile split my face. The thought that followed however was: Man, is Bruce going to get a piece of my mind...

After a chorus of noises that sounded like shifting bodies, Bruce's voice growled into the conversation and my heart fluttered slightly, happy to hear he was alive, if not completely all right, although with the armour Lucius had developed, I doubted there was a scratch on his body.

"That was close," Gordon said.

"Not close enough. Where are they taking him?"

"To MCU. I'll interrogate him in the morning. I want to go home to Barbara first."

Batman made some noncommittal noise. After a moment he said, "Keep an ear on the police band. If anything changes, let me know. I want to be there for that interrogation. Something feels off."

"Okay," I managed. I was still breathing heavily, still trying to bring myself back down to Earth, to my normal sarcastic self. I was still somewhere in the images of dead Batman and gunshots echoing through my head.

"Will you be returning to the bunker tonight Master Bruce?" Alfred asked.

I tried to thank him with my eyes before I doubled over and did my best to press my face into my knees with my arms locked underneath my legs. Alfred placed a comforting hand on my shoulder as I heard Bruce say he would be back. As I took several deep breaths, Alfred pulled the headset off my head, untangling it gently from the reddish locks of my hair. Finally, I was able to sit up and look like I wasn't having some sort of breakdown, but I still didn't feel like myself. Alfred shifted his hand to mine and he took it in both of his.

We were sitting like that when Bruce on the Batpod came through the section of the wall and the bike skidded sideways to a stop in the spot where the Tumbler would have been; the bunker seemed weirdly smaller without the monstrous tank. I was on my feet and moving towards him before I really knew what I was doing, but Bruce was ready for me and had the cowl removed so I could look him in the eye without the face of Batman. I stopped less than a foot away from him and did my best to glare up at him, but found the flame of anger I'd felt upon finding out that he'd lied to me about Gordon extinguished by the very fact he was alive.

I did my best to keep myself from crying again, but tears still burned at the back of my eyes as I looked at him. I hugged him quite suddenly.

"This would be more effective if you weren't Batman right now," I mumbled.

Bruce made a small noise that could have been a laugh and rubbed my back, the gloves of his suit feeling bizarre on my skin through my shirt. The moment passed quickly however and Bruce gently pushed me back so he could walk to the cabinet that held the Batsuit.

He didn't get beyond removing the gloves when the phone he kept on his belt rang. "Yes?" he asked in Batman's growl. He nodded and made some more noncommittal noises and then hung up without saying anything else. He turned to me and, by extension Alfred, who was sitting behind me at the desk. "Harvey never made it home. Gordon's going in to interrogate the Joker."

"Do you want me plugged in?"

Bruce looked at me very seriously for a moment and then said, "If you think you can handle it. You don't look well."

I coughed a laugh. "I'll be here."

"What have you done with him?" Gordon asked, his voice calm and level but with an warning edge.

The Joker laughed and I shuddered. "Me? I was right here. Who did you leave him with?" the Joker asked. I heard a noise that sounded like he was smacking his lips and I could just picture the creepy grin. "Your people? Assuming, of course, that they are still your people and not Maroni's... Does it depress you, Lieutenant, to know just how alone you are?" There was a heavy pause in which I chewed my lip. "Does it make you feel responsible?"

"Where is he?" Gordon asked a little more forcibly.

"What time is it?"

"What difference does that make?"

"Depend on the time, he might be in one place... or several."

I choked on the sip of water I'd taken. There was a pause as I coughed, almost as if they were waiting for me to listen and then a sound of rattling metal that I was able to identify as the handcuffs being undone.

"If we're going to play games," Gordon said around a sigh, "I'm going to need a cup of coffee."

"The good cop, bad cop routine?" Joker asked, sounding quite exasperated.

"Not exactly," Gordon said, his voice sounding father away. I knew he was at the door and I knew what was going to happen next. That was the cue for Batman to step in.

The next noise I heard was a hard whack and the Joker groaning loudly. "Never start with the head... the victim gets all... fuzzy." There was another whack followed by the resounding crack of bones breaking. "See?" He sounded calm. It freaked me out.

"You wanted me," Batman snarled. For the third time that night, I found myself oddly comforted, this time by the dark growling. "Here I am."

"I wanted to see what you'd do. And you didn't disappoint. You let five people die. And then you let Dent take your place. Even to me, that's cold—"

"Where is Dent?"

"Those mob fools want you gone so they can get back to the way things were. But I know the truth—there is no going back. You've changed things. Forever."

The words were an accusation and I blinked, my eyes wide. I stared at the desk, suddenly very interested in the keyboard. I knew the effect the words would have on Batman and I also knew that he wouldn't let it show. Beyond knowing that however, I was frightened of the Joker and hearing his voice had raised goosebumps on my skin that felt quiet permanent. I gave an involuntary shutter and rubbed the heels of my hands hard across my cobalt eyes.

"Then why do you want to kill me?"

"Kill you? I don't want to kill you! What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off drug dealers? No you... you complete me."

Batman growled again. "Your garbage who kills for money."

"Don't talk to me like one of them. You're not, even if you'd like to be. To them, you're just a freak. Like me."

I pulled the headset off and groaned again, suddenly very tired. I folded my arms on the desk and placed my head on them, the headphone close enough to my ear that I could hear without actually having to wear it. I closed my eyes but kept my head tilted to one side so I could hear. My shoulders and neck were sore and my eyes hurt, but still I listened as the Joker tried to bait Batman but only exceeded in making him angry—the growl had become deeper. He demanded once again to know where Dent was and the Joker continued to babble on, baiting the masked vigilante. Batman didn't give in.

"You're going to have to break your one rule."

"I'm considering it."

Or maybe I was wrong. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed Bruce not to do anything stupid.

"There are three minutes left. You'll have to play my little game if you want to save... one of them."

I started and opened my eyes wide, too tired to actually sit up; evidently going from fear to exhaustion so quickly just took everything out of me.

"Them."

"For a while I thought you really were Dent... the way you threw yourself after her."

Now I did sit up. "Rachel," I breathed.

Screaming metal erupted over the headset and I pulled it back on, my eyes still open wide. I heard muffled shouts and then the cracking of glass. "WHERE ARE THEY?" Batman rumbled.

"You choose one life over the other. Your friend, the district attorney or his blushing bride-to-be..."

I was biting my lip hard, tension rocketing through my body.

"Don't worry. I'm going to tell you where they are. Both of them. That's the point. You'll have to choose." The Joker cackled softly. "He's at 250 52nd Street and she's... on Avenue X at Cicero."

I knew without asking who Bruce was going after. I shifted so I could reach the keyboard easier and keyed in the GPS program connected to the Batpod and drew up the quickest route from the police station to the address where Rachel was being held. I could heard Batman running, and I said, "I've got three routes ready in the GPS."

"I can get to Avenue X without the GPS," he snarled at me.

I just sighed and dropped my head back onto the desk. "I'm just trying to help."

I didn't get an answer, nor had I really expected one.

Author's Note.

NCIS REFERENCE. Shauna, can you spot it?

Okay, so I'm not sure about this chapter, but I couldn't change anything to make it better without changing the whole chapter and I didn't want to do it. I like certain parts of this chapter, but I'm not sure about the whole thing... Oh well. The next chapter will be awesome and full of emotion and awesome. Yeah, that was redundant.

This fic is almost done, but I'm not sure how long it'll take me. I'll try to get it done before school completely takes over my life. How about that?

Enjoy.

Next Chapter: A Few Barrels Changes Everything.