I apologise for the delay, but here is the continuation. I have been planning the story that is supposed to follow this, whether I will get it written or not is another matter, but this story could be seen as a kind of prologue to it. Despite the fate of the possible story, here is chapter three. Once again, thank you for reading, and thank you for all the wonderful comments and notes you have sent me, they make me happy :)

Chapter 3: The Decision

Chloe and Alfred were on their way to the car after leaving the movie theater. It was a semi-tradition of sorts for them to go see a film when the opportunity presented itself. Usually it was of an old film noir type, and when she was younger one theater repeatedly showed Indiana Jones films which they had therefore seen several times together. She glanced at Alfred beside her, her smile quickly turning into a look of worry.

"Alfred?" she asked. "What's wrong?" His breathing was quickly becoming labored and he held a hand briefly on his chest.

Alfred grunted and they stopped. He leant against a lamppost, eyes closed, his head drooping.

"It's nothing," Alfred said, taking a deep breath. "A little chest pain," he elaborated, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Should we go to the hospital?"

Chloe was worried. Alfred seemed to be in good shape for a man his age, but he was not a young man anymore and something was definitely wrong. His wore a deep grimace over his features, wincing every so often.

"No, it's alright," Alfred said, his breathing becoming slightly more regular. "I was involved in a minor collision earlier this week, nothing to worry about. I just need to sit for a while," he argued.

They made it to her car and she helped him in, still not convinced he was going to be fine, but Alfred's insistence won out in the end.

When they arrived back at the Manor, Chloe helped Alfred to the living room despite his protests, and then took his outer garments into their rightful places before returning. Alfred was sitting on the couch, the back of his head facing her as she walked into the spacious room.

"I'm fine now, my dear," he assured her.

"No, you're stubborn. I know that because so am I." She pressed a palm slightly against his chest, forcing him to lie down. "Take it easy, and I'll get you something to drink. Tea?"

"Water will be fine." Chloe nodded, and disappeared again.

Alfred sighed. He had had a wonderful day despite the small lapse after the film. They had visited some of the places that held memories for the both of them, even strolling through the park Chloe had loved as a child, and apparently still did. It had all been quite calm, but the day had taken it's toll on Alfred's physique: determination and pain killers only got you so far. The blow he had taken to his chest had left a sizeable bruise and the damage was healing, only slowly.

Chloe returned with a glass of water, and placed it on the coffee table. She grabbed two pillows from the surrounding arm chairs and put them behind Alfred's back.

"Don't want you to choke on that."

"It would make for a lousy ending for this evening," Alfred said as he took a sip from the offered cup.

Chloe sat down on one of the armchairs and bit her lip, elbows resting against her knees. She weighed the options of bringing up her doubts or shutting up, and concluded that she'd had enough. Crossing her arms, she returned her attention to Alfred.

"What happened? I know you weren't in a car accident. Because you look otherwise unscathed, there would be painful bruising from the seatbelt… Yet from where I'm sitting, there isn't any where your seat belt would be," she said, nodding in his direction, "and I know you always wear yours." Alfred glanced down at his shirt, looking at where the actual bruises were, now covered by his clothes. She was right, his arms were fine. "Also, while I helped you in and out of the car, it wasn't your shoulders or ams that hurt – I think we both know that. And finally, I'd like to think you'd have told me about it. So what are you trying to hide?"

A sad smile appeared on Alfred's face. "I am sorry, Chloe, but I can't tell you without putting someone else, or you, in danger. Just know that everything is fine now," he said, placing his hand over hers for a moment.

"But that doesn't explain anything."

"I know, and I also know how your mind works, your hunger to uncover secrets, but I cannot tell you, not before I…"

Chloe's ears perked up and her slouched posture straigtened immediately. "Before you what?"

"Nothing," Alfred said with a sigh. "Would you be a dear and get me another glass of water?"

Chloe bit her lip and rose while the room stayed quiet. Words could not describe the urge to ask more questions, but Alfred's request was keeping her at bay, for now at least, but he could rest assured the issue was not over and done with – he could be in danger, and she would love to help him.

In the end, she returned with a full glass with ice cubes and a small sandwich and they spent the next quarter of an hour in near silence, not a completely uncomfortable one, but one where the air was think with unasked questions and non-existent answers. Chloe was going through different scenarios in her head and Alfred was thinking of all the times he had wished he had Chloe to help him when things had gone wrong for Batman. He had heard and read of her involvement with the Justice League on more than one occasion, and wondered how much she knew of them. His own knowledge was limited, but there was a story there, of that he was certain. He wanted to tell Chloe, because in his mind the benefits outweighed the possible cost and danger, because he knew it was something Chloe would thrive on, and because she was capable in every way. Getting Master Bruce to agree to all of it was where the complicated nature of all things Batman grew tenfold. In fairness, Alfred understood his firm line of 'tell no one' well, and 99 percent of the time Alfred agreed wholeheartedly. He was, after all, suffering the effects of keeping Batman's identity a secret, the bruising a very real reminder.

Alfred barely registered Chloe leaving the room, presumably back to the kitchen, as he continued to muse on the possibilities. It was several minutes later that he heard Bruce walk into the room, back from his evening patrol, and ask him what was going on.

In the kitchen, Chloe was quietly muttering to herself, taking her frustration out on the two glasses and one plate, scrubbing them vigorously with the brush. She couldn't figure out what was so important, so worth protecting, that it would put her in danger as well. She was certain it had something to do with the other occupant of the house, but beyond that there wasn't much to go on. There had always been something off with the way things worked in the Manor, little things that reeked of secrecy, but mostly in the past few years. She had thought of them as the eccentricities of the wealthy, not having to stick to the mundane, the way she remembered Lex as being while she was in high school. But if something was going on, she was was already dreading what it might be. Maybe she was not the only one with a secret, and like hers, it might not be anything bad. "It's nothing bad," she whispered to herself. "Yeah, right… not impossible, but unlikely as hell."

Running her forearm over forehead she continued the ruse of scrubbing. If she went back there now, she wouldn't be able to keep her thoughts to herself. It was much easier to shut up in a separate room.

"You don't have to do that." Bruce was leaning against the doorframe, looking casual as he observed her. She guessed he had been out running. Sure, his shirt and trousers looked flawless, and he had obviously showered, but his face was still a little flushed and his hair damp.

"It's to help Alfred," Chloe said simply. "He's not feeling too well."

"Yes, because of the accident."

Looking back down at the sink, she decided to play along for a minute. "Which neither of you cared to mention."

Alfred was very loyal and it was a quality she valued highly, but sometimes it sucked being on the outside. She also knew she was in no place to complain, she was keeping Alfred in the dark as well.

"It wasn't my place to say anything."

Chloe bit her lip for the umpteenth time that night and turned around, the cup and brush in her hand sinking into the water with a splash.

"Oh please, we both know there was no collision," she said straightening her posture. "You might not know me, but I've spent a lot of time under this roof, and whatever it is you're involved in… Alfred won't say anything because he knows you trust him, and I'm sure you already spoke to him, so you know I know something's going on."

She waited for Bruce's response. His stance had changed slightly, the ease was gone.

Bruce wanted to sigh, from what he'd gathered from Alfred, from his previous encounter with her, and a very interesting file on one Chloe Sullivan, he had suspected the worst, that she would stick her nose in. He should have known, but instead he had slipped. They had to make a decision.

Resisting the urge to scowl, he said, "I have to talk with Alfred. Don't go anywhere."

"Wasn't planning on it."

Bruce walked down to the living room with a hundred different questions making a mess in his brain. Should they tell her? Would Alfred want her to know? 'Of course he would,' Bruce reasoned. Would he himself want her to know? Just how trustworthy was she? This time he did sigh. She was trustworthy and that's where more problems started. They could give her an inkling, but she would eventually find out the whole truth. They, he, had screwed up royally this time. He hated it. Alfred would tell him to accept it and look forward. He'd said it many times before, and maybe it was time to do it again. Being Batman had become his life, and holding onto it meant keeping a very tight leash on himself, there was only a minute margin for error, for making the wrong decision, and in his mind it rounded down to a zero. No mistakes, that's what he strived for. Recently, he'd made a mistake, and this is what it had lead up to.

Alfred was about to sit up but Bruce waved his hand at him and took a seat himself. "Alfred‒"

"Sir, I‒I believe our predicament has escalated enough. I can't ask you to divulge your secret‒"

"'S not just mine," Bruce interrupted, "or you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"‒but if someone is ever to find out, she is the best candidate one could hope for."

Bruce leant back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "If anyone else finds out, if someone unfavorable finds out, or even tries to find out, she'll become a target. People around Batman get hurt, it's a fact. Just look what happened to you."

"I know, Bruce, but these people are usually the ones who have no idea with whom they are socialising. What happened to me was bad luck. They probably didn't even know who I was."

The absence of 'Master' didn't go unnoticed, and it was then that Bruce made a decision.

"You know I have to ask you this, Alfred. Are you sure?"

A hint of a smile crossed Alfred's lips as he said, "Yes, I am, and I think it would be a great asset to have her help should we ever need it."

Bruce nodded solemnly. Things around the Manor were about to change.