Thank you so much for the feedback on Chapter One! Also, I wanted to admit that I am taking some big creative liberties with the foster care system because...well...it's Gotham. Enjoy this second chapter! I am loving how this story is writing itself for me. Disclaimer: I own nothing Batman or DC
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"Here is your bedroom, Miss Ferrara," said Alfred, stepping into the doorway and allowing Ella to enter beside him. She froze inside the door and stared at the room before her.
Enormous.
It was the only word that seemed to fit. Everything in the room was enormous, including the square footage itself. The bed was larger than any Ella had ever slept in, and it was made up like the fancy beds in commercials for hotels. There were two separate dressers, both covered in sculptures and artwork, and enormous mirrors suspended on the walls above them. Two windows stretched from ceiling to floor with heavy drapes pulled aside, giving a stunning view to the east of the manor. A door to the left of the room was closed, while a door to the right opened into what appeared to be a bathroom.
"Will it do?" asked Alfred, amusement flashing through his eyes.
"Will…oh, yes, sir," said the flustered girl, staring around the room in wonder. "It's really beautiful."
"Is this all you own?" asked Alfred, sliding the backpack off of Ella's shoulder.
"Yes, sir," nodded Ella, automatically gripping the strap tightly.
Alfred smiled at her, "Not to worry. I'm just going to set it on this chair here."
Ella blushed and smiled, "Oh, thank you." Protecting her belongings was something fiercely embedded in her after years of raising herself, and it was calming but disconcerting to have someone seem to help in the job.
"Here is your bathroom," said Alfred, crossing the floor and pushing the ajar door open completely.
Ella hurried to his side and peered in, her eyes growing wide. "Oh, man," she whispered. "That's beautiful."
Alfred chuckled, "And your closet is over there. From the looks of it, you could fit all your things in one drawer of this dresser." He had crossed the room and patted the top of the dresser nearest the bed. "We'll fix that after you meet Master Wayne," he nodded.
"What is he like?" Ella blurted out. She surprised herself with the boldness of the question she had been longing to ask but also felt relieved at the courage to voice her anxiety.
Alfred raised an eyebrow and turned to look out one of the massive windows, "Master Wayne? Well, I suppose you will find out for yourself in about five minutes since his car just pulled up." He smiled and started towards the door, "But I wouldn't worry yourself, Miss Ferrara. He is a rare soul of kindness, and I think you will find a lot in common with him."
Ella hurried after Alfred and followed him back through the maze of rooms and corridors that she had already forgotten how to navigate. It seemed odd to her to walk through this castle-like structure and not meet any other people. It reminded her of tours the girls had taken through museums packed with sightseers and staff, but now eerily empty and alone.
She was lost in her thoughts, staring at the biggest painting she had ever seen as they crossed a living room when a voice woke her from her trance.
"Hello, Alfred. Who is this?"
Ella looked up and found herself standing before a tall, dark-haired, very well-dressed man with a friendly smile and surprisingly lonely looking hazel eyes.
"Master Wayne, meet Miss Ella Ferrera," said Alfred. "Miss Ferrera, Mr. Bruce Wayne."
"How do you do, Miss Ferrera?" greeted Bruce, sticking out his hand.
Ella shook it and nodded, "Fine, thank you, Mr. Wayne."
"Miss Ferrera, I will have to beg your pardon for just a few moments while I discuss an urgent matter with Master Wayne," said Alfred, placing a hand on Ella's back and leading her back across the room. "But there is a lovely book here all about Asia, which you told me you were very interested in."
"Oh, yes, sir," nodded Ella, sinking onto the couch behind her and running her fingers over the large coffee table book featuring an Asian temple on the cover. She watched as Alfred hurried Bruce from the room and took a deep breath. She had been scared to death to meet the billionaire, and suddenly he was just another person like Alfred and herself. And his eyes were lonely. That confused her because she had expected a man like Mr. Wayne to be rather pious and popular, though she supposed both of those things were still possible while being lonely.
She glanced back at the book and smiled. Now, this looked exactly like the kind of thing she would never be allowed to touch in a foster home. Her passing comment regarding her love of Asian art had not gone unnoticed by Alfred during their trip to the manor and she had a feeling she was going to like him an awful lot.
...
"A foster child?" cried Bruce, staring in confusion at Alfred. "Alfred, how on earth are we supposed to take care of a kid! Have you forgotten about the little operation we run? You expect me to take care of a teenager, run a company, and be the Batman? Have you seen my to-do list lately? It does not include taking in a ward!"
"Shall I take her back to the home, then, Master Wayne?" asked Alfred, his expression never changing.
"Well, I…why on earth did you bring her here in the first place?" asked Bruce, running his fingers through his hair as he turned in circles, exasperated.
"Because they were going to place her heaven knows where and I didn't want to see that sweet, thirteen-year-old girl lost in the system of Gotham," said Alfred. "You know that most of those children end up on the wrong side of the law after they are too old to be cared for by the government. I know you do your part by giving generous donations for their care, but after I saw her…" Alfred stopped and sighed. "A bigger girl was bullying a little girl and Ella broke up the fight. She wasn't the bully, but she was punished for taking a stand. When I saw the sadness in those eyes as she sat on the bench beside me, waiting for shipment off to another foster home, I couldn't just leave her there. She's a human being, and they are treating her as an object that they don't want."
"Alfred," sighed Bruce, "I admire your heart. But you know we can't keep her. If we tried to help every kid in this city, Batman would be impossible, and terror would rule the streets of Gotham. We have to know our limits. It's the entire concept of Batman, Alfred."
Alfred sighed, "Very well. I'll take her back. I just thought you of all people would understand."
Bruce watched as Alfred walked towards the study door and sighed deeply, "Okay, okay. I of all people would understand what?"
Alfred stopped and looked back at his young master, and Bruce winced when he saw tears glistening in the older man's eyes. "That you of all people would understand what it's like to have so many people bustling around you, but to feel so terribly alone," said Alfred. He left, shutting the door hard behind him and Bruce staring after him.
...
Alfred took a deep breath as he stood outside of the living room archway. He was afraid he would start blubbering if attempting to speak too quickly, so he reminded himself to talk slowly and distinctly.
Stepping around the corner, Alfred forced a friendly smile and nodded at Ella, "Miss Ferrera, I do apologize for leaving you so quickly."
Ella set down the book that had engrossed her so thoroughly and stood, "That's alright, sir. This book is really cool."
"You can have it if you like."
Alfred turned around and found himself face-to-face with Bruce, who was smiling pleasantly, hands casually in his pockets.
"Really," said Bruce. "You can take it to your room and look at it whenever you like. Are you interested in Asian art?"
Ella grinned, "Yes, sir. I think it's so beautiful. There was an encyclopedia at the home with black and white pictures, and there was one of a statue in the jungle of Indonesia. This book is full of things like that but in color!"
Bruce chuckled and sat down in a chair across from Ella, "So you like Asia. Me too. Sit down and tell me about yourself, Ella; because so far it seems pretty interesting."
Ella blushed and sat down, "Um, not really."
"Well, what other books have you read besides the encyclopedia at the home?" asked Bruce.
"A book about space!" said Ella, her eyes lighting up again. "It showed different constellations and moons and galaxies. All the books are so old, though, that it is mostly black and white drawings and lots of words that are hard to understand."
"Well, not only do I have a fantastic book on constellations," grinned Bruce, "I also have a Meade telescope on one of my rooftop balconies. If you have no other plans tonight, and the sky is clear enough, maybe we can take a look."
"Hey!" grinned Ella. "That would be neat, sir."
Alfred stood still, taking it all in. Heart thudding excitedly in his chest, a tear of joy slipped silently down the butler's cheek as he watched his young master talk to the girl. Words could not express how proud he was of that wild boy he had raised. The boy who had once insisted on flying alone to California when he was fourteen-years-old for a family Christmas, only to get lost in the Gotham airport for seven hours. The boy who had spent an entire summer going to bed at three in the morning and developed terrible headaches, but insisted they were due to the stress of school and not lack of sleep. The boy who had assured Alfred he would never, ever, ever get married and have children because that was absolutely not his forte; he was going to be a professional soccer player.
That boy was now a kind, courageous, heroic, lonely man who had just made an enormous decision and given Alfred more pride than he had felt in years. Ella was home, and Bruce Wayne was her foster father.
And it was exactly what all three of them needed.
...
"If you don't get yourself back in that room and behave like a civilized young lady, I will be dealing with you rather harshly, young miss," said Alfred, glaring down menacingly at Ella. She was tall, standing close to five feet and seven inches, but Alfred still had eight inches over her and was able to look down his nose quite effectively.
"But Alfred," whimpered Ella, "I don't want to. I hate it. I hate school. Why do I need to know that stuff?"
"Because Master Wayne and I want you to be a well-educated lady someday, and you'll never get there if you keep escaping from your tutors," replied Alfred. "Now, turn yourself around and march right back in there." Alfred turned the girl around and landed a solid smack to her bottom, propelling her forward into the study.
"I'm glad to see you decided to join me again, Miss Ferrera," came the voice of Ella's math tutor. "Are you ready to continue?"
"Yes, sir," replied Ella, dropping back into her chair by the big oak desk against the far side of the room.
"Mr. Wyatt," said Alfred, entering the room, "please let me know if our young miss here decides to slip out again. I'm sure I can persuade her it is wiser to stay in the tutoring room." He gave Ella a very stern, pointed look.
"Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth," nodded Mr. Wyatt, nodding over the top of the chest-high blackboard he was scribbling away on.
Alfred left, closing the door behind him, and Mr. Wyatt turned the board to face Ella. "Alright, Miss Ferrera," he said, "let's work this problem together."
Ella groaned quietly and picked up her pencil. It was going to be another long morning.
It had now been three months since Ella moved into Wayne Manor, and a lot had changed in that time. Bruce found himself going on patrol far less than he used to, opting to spend time with Ella instead. The two had formed a strong bond and found similar interests in many things. Bruce had an excellent way of acting his part as mentor, guardian, disciplinarian, and counselor, while never wavering from friend and confidant. It had surprised Alfred at first how naturally Bruce took to parenting, but he began to see a lot of Bruce's father in the man and realized he had inherited Thomas Wayne's way with children.
Alfred was everything Bruce was but in a gentler and more grandfatherly way. Ella adored him, and the two spent every day together while Bruce attended meetings and business functions.
Ella found herself trusting the two men rather quickly. After years of being wary of every person she met, it was nice to drop her guard and be at ease in a welcoming environment. Bruce and Alfred were very respectful of her space and feelings, and in turn, Ella strived to be obedient and pleasant towards them. She often felt a sense of sadness when Bruce would leave in the mornings that was always replaced with a burst of joy when she heard his voice call her name in the evenings. They spent many nights on the roof of the manor, studying the stars. Some nights, Alfred would read to her from an old English adventure book he had while Bruce attended to business matters. These were his patrols as Batman that they had successfully kept secret from the young ward thus far.
School was not a favorite subject for any of the three. Ella had experienced poor schooling from jumping foster homes so often, and tutors placed her at a sixth-grade level. Bruce and Alfred had discussed the matter privately and decided homeschooling her was the best option until she reached a more stable level of education. Ella, unfortunately, hated school with a passion. She found her tutors boring and longwinded and often slipped from the room while her math teacher, Mr. Wyatt, was creating an incredibly long problem on his blackboard. It was apparent to both Bruce and Alfred that Ella was extraordinarily bright and clever, as she portrayed to them both during their occasional educational moments. Whether it was astronomy, art, science, or history, Ella picked up facts and concepts quickly and remembered them easily. Alfred felt the problem lay in the teaching style, but when suggested, Bruce had brushed it off, and Alfred had not addressed it again.
Ella forced herself through the rest of the class and was enormously relieved when Mr. Wyatt dismissed her for the day. She went straight to the kitchen and found Alfred preparing stew for supper.
"Hi, Alfred," she grinned, climbing onto the counter and sitting down.
"Remove yourself from my counter and wash your hands," instructed Alfred, setting a handful of carrots beside the girl. "You may peel these."
"Yes, sir," said Ella, sliding down and hurrying to the sink.
"I suppose you have delayed your homework," said Alfred, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as he placed a pot on the stove.
"Well, can't Bruce help me with that later?" asked Ella.
"Not tonight," replied Alfred, handing her a peeler. "Bruce has business this evening."
"Aw," sighed Ella, her face filling with disappointment. "I hate it when he has business. Will he be home before he has to do whatever it is?"
"Yes, he'll be home for supper," said Alfred. "If we have any supper to feed him, that is. More peeling and less whimpering, hm?" Alfred gave her ribs a poke and chuckled when he earned a giggle.
"Hey, Alfred," said Ella, "what sort of business does he do when he's out at night, anyway? Sometimes he doesn't get back until four in the morning."
"And how do you know that?" asked Alfred, setting potatoes in the sink to wash.
Ella blushed and dropped a freshly peeled carrot onto the chopping block, "Well, sometimes I hear him going to bed then."
Alfred gave her a pointed look, "Rather odd. If I remember correctly, your room is two halls and a staircase away from his. How do you manage to hear him from that distance?"
"The walls are thin," said Ella.
"Ah," nodded Alfred, "and I suppose it doesn't hurt that you are sneaking in and out of Bruce's study at all hours of the night to look at the books he has in there."
"You know!" cried Ella, looking up quickly, her face pale.
Alfred looked at her and raised his eyebrows, "It's my job to know."
"Sometimes I can't sleep," shrugged Ella.
"Sometimes, you don't try very hard," replied Alfred.
"Do you know how to make anything other than stew and pasta?" asked Ella.
A wave of relief flooded over Alfred with the change in subject, as he hadn't quite decided how to explain what Bruce's late-night business involved. He plastered on a fake look of annoyance and grunted, "And what is wrong with stew and pasta?"
"Oh, nothing," shrugged Ella, beginning to chop the carrots into bite-sized pieces. "But Bruce never even eats the pasta because he says it sits in his stomach, and I think the stew tastes watery."
"Watery!" cried Alfred, letting a potato he was scrubbing drop into the sink. "I'll show you watery, little miss." And with that, Alfred sprayed the girl with the removable sink head he had been using.
It was a wet, messy scene Bruce Wayne walked into when he stepped through the kitchen doorway. Ella was soaked from head to toe and giggling while Alfred shuffled across the floor covered with puddles.
"Oh, good evening, Master Wayne," he greeted. "I was just about to take Miss Ella upstairs and dry her off, and then we will be ordering take out for supper." He leaned in close to Bruce and mumbled, "A conversation change was necessary to distract from potential questions. Order Chinese." Turning to Ella, Alfred held out an arm and smiled, "Come on, love. Let's get you in some dry clothes."
"Hiya, Bruce!" greeted Ella, throwing herself into the man's arms.
"Oh, hey!" laughed Bruce, putting his arms around the soaked girl and wincing inwardly as the water soaked into his suit. "Thanks for sharing your bath with me."
"Oh, sorry," blushed Ella, stepping back quickly. "Now you look really sweaty."
"That's a wonderful compliment, thank you," chuckled Bruce. "Go on with Alfred, squirt."
Ella brushed past her guardian to leave the kitchen, and Alfred leaned in again, "Better think of a reason for late-night business."
"Ah, got it," nodded Bruce. "I will do that as I order Thai."
"Chinese!" called Alfred over his shoulder as he followed after Ella.
Bruce chuckled and pulled out his cell phone. A quick Google search brought up the nearby Thai place he liked, but his mind was far from food as he placed the delivery order. Making up a reason for late-night business was one thing, but hiding the masked vigilante from a child he was finding himself grow close to was becoming increasingly harder. He often found himself nearly mentioning the Bat-Cave, or almost suggesting they take a ride in the Tumbler to test a new feature. Bruce knew he had a decision to make if Ella was going to stay on as his ward, and that decision rested entirely on how much he trusted a thirteen-year-old girl with his deepest and darkest secret.
...
We all know Bruce Wayne can't resist a ward. Was the Batman universe explicitly created for fanfiction writers to enjoy cute plots featuring parent-Bruce and various children? Because it really seems that way. Bless you, Batman creators Bob Kane and Bill Finger. I hope you enjoyed this second chapter! I promise a plot will start to slowly expose itself soon. Review if you would like, and thanks for reading!