It feels like a goodbye to me

"Good morning, Elle!" Charles greeted the next morning as he entered the kitchen, where Ella was already eating her breakfast, reading a newspaper.

It often went on like this: Ella first to be awake and eating breakfast despite her grumpy-morning self while reading the newspaper she always made sure to finish before the head of the house got it, and Charles coming in all cheery only to end up being snapped at and slapped on the back of his head. Only this time, he wasn't snapped at, even less slapped.

He was greeted by mumbled "Morning."

Of course, he couldn't expect the usual. He would be leaving back to America in less than an hour or so; there was no way Ella would be her usual self at a time like this.

"What are you eating?" he asked, trying his best to still sound cheerful as he raided the refrigerator.

"Breakfast," Ella deadpanned, quietly sipping her hot chocolate.

Charles let his head fall and his shoulders slouch in defeat. She was seriously hard to crack.

"I figured," he mumbled with a slightly sarcastic edge in his tone.

His mumble was followed by an eerie silence. He expected it to stay that way, though he found himself slightly jumping in surprise when a small voice spoke softly, saying, "I made you some."

He spun on his heels and saw another plate placed in front of the seat across from Ella. The plate was filled with grilled sausages, scrambles eggs, toast, and fruit on the side, with a mug of coffee. It looked and smelled mouth-watering.

"You..."

Ella hummed, slightly nodding her head, as her eyes settled upon him, softening. Charles could feel his heart drop as the reminder of him having to leave soon burned him bad. Such trivial things she did for him made him feel that way; he didn't want to leave her. Unfortunately, he already gave his word, and if there was one thing one would never forget about a Kirke was that they never went back on their word or their promises.

"Thank you." He shut the refrigerator door and sat down.

They were silent for a moment again before Eleanor decided to speak up. "When are you leaving?"

Charles sipped his coffee before answering. "In an hour or so. They'll send someone to pick me up." Ella stared at him blankly. "I packed last night," he added before continuing his meal. Ella nodded absentmindedly as she stood and poured herself another mug of hot chocolate before returning to her seat. "Tastes good, Elle."

"Thanks."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of them was bothered by the quiet.

"So, how's school? Have you made any new friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

Ella looked up from her plate and gave him that same blank look again. "It's summer. I don't have school. And even if I did, I should be in graduate school by now as I know every subject from the high already, but the teachers are too stupid to see that. As for friends, yes, I have many, actually. Mostly boys, but I also have plenty of girl friends."

Charles blinked a few times at her blunt, slightly monotonous answer. "Right, summer."

Ella sighed. "I'll stop."

"Stop what?" Charles asked, looking up at her once again in puzzlement.

She groaned softly. "I'll stop trying to enroll." He slowly started to smile. "But you better not die on me 'cause if you do, I'll track your body down, resurrect you, then kill you again myself."

Charles snorted. "Like that could happen."

Ella found herself smirking secretively. "You have no idea," she mumbled, but Charles heard. And that only puzzled him more.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Ella said in a slight sing-song tone. She then tried to smile, but what came out was more of a grimace.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he shook his head. "Always a punk, aren't you?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "Always a prat, aren't you?" she retorted mockingly.

Chuckling again, Charles stood and grabbed his now empty plate and took it to the sink to wash it, but not before ruffling his sister's hair, making her grimace and swat his hand away as she, too, stood up and grabbed her empty dishes.

"Never the hair," she threatened playfully.

"Never the hat," he replied when she playfully swatted his head, where his Sergeant hat was neatly placed.

Ella rolled her eyes and grabbed her almost empty mug of hot chocolate. She brought it up to her lips when Charles spoke again as she took a sip.

"So... any boyfriends?" She spat the drink back into her mug, causing him to grimace. "Well, that is just disgusting... and that was not a very lady-like action."

Ella glared at him. "I'll show you lady-like," she muttered, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "Stab you with a heel— the ultimate lady-like action."

Charles chuckled, but then stopped when his sister glared at him again. "What? I just asked a simple question," he said innocently, raising his hands as if surrendering to the police.

Eleanor scoffed. "A simple question you shouldn't ask your little sister at seven in the freakin' morning!"

"You spend too much time with Tommy," Charles remarked.

"Not my fault you decided, one day, to bring home an American," she replied with a shrug before glaring at him again. "And that's way off topic."

"I know, but you wouldn't answer my question."

Ella surprised him by looking angry. "Because, as I said merely seconds ago, you don't ask that at seven in the morning."

"Then when can I ask that?" he asked, defiantly.

Ella pretended to think about it as she brought a finger to her chin in a comical way and stared off into thin air. "How about..." Charles found himself leaning forward in anticipation, as she took her time to reply. "Never," she finished flatly before gently moving him to the side, so she could wash the dishes.

Charles groaned. "Elle."

"No," Ella replied stubbornly as she scrubbed soap onto the plates.

Charles opened his mouth once more, about to say something when he was cut off by a loud honking from the outside of the mansion. They both froze, Ella staring blankly at the running water, and Charles staring brokenly at her.

It was time.

Eye slightly twitching, Ella turned off the water and grabbed a towel to dry off her hands. She'd finish the dishes later... if she felt herself up to it.

"Ella..."

Ella's hands instantly flew to the edge of the sink, knuckles almost gone white by how tight she was holding onto it. "I know," she whispered.

Charles took a deep breath and pulled her into a hug in which she instantly clung to him as if her life was about to end. "I promised, Elle. I made you a promise and I'm going to keep it, I swear to God."

"I know you will," she whispered, her head buried into his chest.

They stayed like that for a few more seconds before finally pulling away from each other and making their way to the front door of the mansion, where Charles' bags were waiting for him. Ella's heart seemed to quicken each step they grew closer to the door. After placing his bags in the car up front, Charles turned and walked back to his sister, who stood by the entrance door of the mansion.

"Don't forget to—"

Charles cut her off. He pulled Ella into another hug and smiled when he pulled back. "I know."

Ella sighed, frowning. "You and Tommy better come back," she muttered. "And be careful."

"I'll be fine— I'll write to you every day to prove it. I'll even have Tom remind me, which he obviously won't pass out on doing every second. I promise."

Ella's lip slightly twitched upward.

"Take care, Charlie," she whispered, making Charles smile again. It had been so long since he had heard her call him that.

"You too, Elle. Don't do anything reckless."

"I'll try."

They stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, both their hearts dropping.

"Why does this feel like a goodbye?" Ella mumbled, trying to stop herself from crying.

It had been years since she last cried; she wasn't going to start now, no matter how painful the situation was.

Charles looked down at her and sighed as he pulled her into a tight hug. "It's not a goodbye."

"It feels like a goodbye to me," she muttered.

He pulled away and held her at arm's length. "It's not." He smiled softly. "It's a... 'see you later, alligator.'"

Ella let out a breathless chuckle. "'In a while, crocodile.'"

And with one last hug, Charles was off, leaving Ella standing by the front door of the mansion. She still stood there after he was completely gone. She stared up at the gloomy sky, biting her lower lip in hesitation. He told her not to do anything reckless, and she agreed she'd try. She didn't promise, though. Closing the door, she sprinted up the stairs, thanking God Missus Macready was out buying groceries, and ran to her room and locked herself in before throwing herself on her bed.

"It definitely feels like a goodbye to me," she mumbled against her pillow, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

The day after Charles left was the day Eleanor became antisocial... not that she never was before. She just went a little bit to the extreme this time. She may have gone out to her usual adventures with Black Jack Baron, her black horse, the day he left, but after her brother was gone, she stopped riding him. She would still go see him, but she would simply talk to him or let him and the mare, Candid, out of their stables to run freely while she watched them.

Other than that, she stopped trying to enroll into the army and barely left her room unless it was to eat, which had now become rare, or when she was sleep-walking at night; fortunately, she would always wake up before being caught. She once startled herself when she woke up and found that she was in the spare room, where the old wardrobe was. That was three nights after Charles left. After that night, she often went there just to stare at it with a sad look in her eyes. She missed her place of birth.

The days soon turned into weeks, and before she knew it, she had spent a month literally sulking at any given moment. It was toward that time that she finally got word of the evacuation going on in North London. It was then that Missus Macready and her grandfather told her. It was then that it became official.

Eleanor would no longer be the only underage inhabitant living under Professor Kirke's roof.

Of course, she didn't really give a damn. She didn't care about a lot of things lately. She felt numb and that worried the elder inhabitants of the Kirke household, but of course, they knew there was nothing they could do about it.