This is where we get the slightly AU Dick Grayson part. Ella's past is similar to Dick's, but I think that's the only connection there will be between the two characters other than being Bruce's ward. Thanks for the reviews! You all spur me on to keep writing and it means the world!

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At approximately 11 o'clock in the morning, Ella stumbled into the dining room and stretched her arms. She narrowed her eyes, fighting a threatening headache, probably due to oversleeping. The chair Bruce had sat in early that morning was still pulled out and Ella walked over, running her fingers along the back of it. A tightness pulled at her stomach and she wondered if it was due to hunger or the memory of Bruce ordering her back to bed. Had it been wrong in coming down to make sure he was alright? Bruce's alter-ego had only been known to her for a single day and she already hated that it existed.

Ella walked across the room and into the hall leading to the kitchen. This section was the informal wing of the house where she and Bruce ate their meals. Many hours of helping Alfred had taken place in this kitchen for Ella, and it was much more familiar to her than the kitchen in the west wing used for catering and dinner parties.

Expecting to find the kitchen empty, Ella was surprised to see Alfred bustling around the stove with pots and pans in hand.

"Morning," she said, stopping by the island.

Alfred turned and gave her a loving smile, "Good morning, Miss. I suppose you must be starving after skipping breakfast. We'll have a lovely brunch before you know it."

"Can I help?" asked Ella.

"If you feel like making toast," replied Alfred, stirring the oatmeal he had cooking on the stove.

Ella grinned and opened the breadbox. Alfred had taught her a lot about cooking, and toast was the one thing she managed to make without creating smoke or a mess. Neither said much of anything else as they prepared the meal, and before long, they had a tray, with oatmeal, toast, yogurt, and an energy smoothie, ready to take up to Bruce.

"Are you coming up?" asked Alfred.

Leaning against the counter and drumming her foot against the tiled floor, Ella shrugged, then shook her head, "I…I guess not. Eventually."

Alfred smiled and scooped up the tray, "As you wish, dear. Make sure you drink that entire glass down, young lady!" He hurried off with Bruce's breakfast, leaving Ella to stare at the green smoothie Alfred had set before her. Bruce insisted she drink one of those disgusting concoctions every day, and it was definitely the worst part of her mornings.

"I could pour it down the sink, and no one would ever know," mumbled Ella as she lifted the glass to her lips. She drank it down as quickly as possible, gagging only once or twice, then rinsed the glass out and settled onto a stool at the island to eat her oatmeal.

Ella only managed to finish half the bowl before shoving it across the counter and settling her head into her arms. Anxiety was twisting her stomach, and the prospect of telling Alfred and Bruce the truth about her past was weighing heavier than her appetite. Her headache was considerably worse now, and she wished she had asked Alfred for some pain killer.

"I should go now," she whispered. "Just do it."

Before her fear could get the better of her willpower, Ella stood and hurried from the kitchen. She stopped only long enough to push the chair back into the dining room table, then ran straight upstairs and down the hall towards Bruce's room. It was a long hallway. Longer than she remembered. She stopped halfway down it and turned, looking out over the first floor of the manor below her. A nearby column caught her weight as she leaned forward, nerves twisting her insides. What would they think of her? Anyone with a past like hers would surely be seen with distaste. Would Bruce send her back when he knew the truth?

"Ella?"

Alfred's voice cut through Ella's subconscious battle, and she turned to face him, hoping she was hiding the traces of anxiety from her expression.

"Bruce would like to see you," smiled Alfred, nodding his head towards the room. He held out an arm, and Ella felt a flood of warmth rush over her. Good ole Alfred. He could make anyone feel better.

"Okay," she whispered, walking the rest of the way down the hall and throwing her arms around the butler.

The embrace caught Alfred off guard, but he chuckled and returned it, leaning forward to kiss the top of Ella's head, "And did you drink the entirety of your smoothie?"

"Mmhmm," nodded Ella, tightening her grip around his chest.

"Good girl," said Alfred. "Now, in you go!" He gave her backside a firm pat, directing her into Bruce's room and followed her in, shutting the door behind them.

"Well, good morning, missy," grinned Bruce, turning from the window he had been gazing out of. "How do you feel this…you are still wearing the same clothes from yesterday." It was a statement, but it sounded like a question. Ella shrugged. Bruce chuckled and shook his head, "I suppose it is one of those days. Okay, come here, kid."

Bruce pulled her close into his strong arms and sighed, "Hey. I have an apology to make."

"An apology?" asked Ella, wrapping her own arms around Bruce's chest. It felt good to be in his arms, and some of her fear began to slip away.

"Yes, an apology," said Bruce, glancing up at Alfred. "I shouldn't have sent you back to bed this morning without telling you what had happened. I was kind of short with you, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Ella, feeling slightly overwhelmed by Bruce's apology. Not many people had ever apologized to her before. "You weren't that mean."

"'That' mean," chuckled Bruce. "But I was a 'little' mean, I suppose. Well, I am sorry. Do you forgive me?"

"Yeah," smiled Ella, gently nuzzling closer. She was remembering all the ugly bruises covering Bruce's skin and didn't want to put unnecessary pressure on them.

"Okay, good," said Bruce. "Now then, I promise to always be open with you as much as I can when it comes to Batman. Some things I may have to keep to myself, though. Does that make sense?"

"Course it does," said Ella. "I keep a lot of things to myself, too. But I want to tell you some of them."

Another glance at Alfred, then Bruce gently pushed Ella away and held her by the shoulders. "Yeah, he smiled, "Alfred told me you were going to tell us about your parents."

"I guess," nodded Ella, lowering her eyes to the carpet.

"Alright," said Bruce, grabbing a nearby chair and moving it to the front of his dresser. He picked up the chair beside his bed and placed it next to the first, then nodded to Alfred. Both men sat down, side-by-side, and Ella looked at them questioningly. "We're ready when you are," said Bruce.

Ella took a deep breath. This was not going to be fun.

"Alright, so I guess you probably already know how they died," began Ella. "I mean, you are Batman."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" asked Bruce, crossing her arms.

"You snoop a lot," shrugged Ella.

"How do you know?"

"I read the newspaper."

"Fair enough."

"Anyway," said Ella, "do you know?"

Bruce blushed slightly but nodded, "Yes, we know. They were killed in a trapeze accident."

"And that's all you know?" asked Ella.

"I traced your foster homes," confessed Bruce, the red in his cheeks deepening. "But that's all. No details." He left out the parts about her criminally associated foster parents because he wasn't sure if she even knew that.

"Okay, well, there is more," sighed Ella, choosing a line on the carpet and starting to pace it back and forth. "A lot more. Stuff no one else knows. I was born in San Diego, and we moved to Gotham when I was four. My parents were acrobats and they got hired to do the high-wire act for the Gotham City Circus. The pay was a lot better than what they made in California, so they took the job. I don't remember an awful lot about the circus, but I know I had fun there. Sometimes I would perform with my parents, but only on the ground. I had a costume and everything. They taught me how to do some flips and everyone thought I was cute. Anyhow, everything went really well until I was about five. That's when my dad and my brother started fighting."

"You have a brother?" interrupted Bruce.

Ella glanced at him quickly, then trained her eyes back on the yellow line she was pacing, "Uh, yeah. An older brother. His name is Vince. He's fifteen years older than me. He was born when my parents were only sixteen, and once he was a teen, they decided they wanted another kid. Anyway, Vince and my dad started fighting when I was five. Vince wanted to do a lot of dangerous tricks, and Dad wouldn't let him. Since Dad was the contracted choreographer, Vince couldn't add his own stunts, or he would risk getting fired. At least, I think that's what the problem was. I was kind of little, and I don't really remember all the details. Long story short, Vince ended up doing some tricks he wasn't supposed to, and Dad had the circus owner fire him. He said it was for Vince's own safety and if he decided to go off and join another group, it would be on his own head if he got hurt."

"So, a few months pass and things start to get back to normal. We heard that Vince had joined a group of acrobats that performed on stage. He got involved with some bad people in the theater and was arrested a few times. My dad would always break down and post his bail, but one time…the last time…Dad refused. He said Vince would have to get himself out and maybe that would teach him to make better decisions. A few nights later, the accident happened. Everyone thought that the circus sent me right to the government home, but that didn't happen for another two weeks. First, they found Vince and told him he needed to take care of me. He actually agreed and took me to his apartment in downtown Gotham. I was only there for one night and it was just so he could scare me. He told me terrible, horrible things. Things about my parents. Things about himself."

Ella stopped talking and pacing and glanced at Bruce. "Do you know anything about him?" she asked timidly.

"I…" Bruce fumbled, having been caught up in Ella's story and his own thoughts. It confused him that nothing had come up on Vince Ferrera during his research into Ella's background. "Well, no. When I searched for your parents, nothing came up on your brother."

"Because he's erased everything," sighed Ella. "That's what he does. He leaves no trace. He's good at what he does, and he takes care of people who get in his way."

"Takes care as in…" fished Bruce.

"Eliminates," responded Ella, restarting her path on the carpet. "He's a criminal. My brother is a criminal. I'm not sure exactly what he does now, but I've heard his name mentioned a few times. It's never for a good reason. I know he has ties with the mob, but he tends to keep his organization separate."

"Does he still go by the name Ferrera?" asked Bruce, puzzled that he had never heard of Ella's brother.

"I have no idea," shrugged Ella. "But I know his name in the crime circles is Detective."

"Now that's a name I've heard," said Bruce, shifting in his chair. "Normally associated with money laundering, but I've heard he's responsible for some deaths in the mob itself."

"That's Vince," nodded Ella. "He killed my parents, too."

"What?" cried Bruce. "Did he tell you that? What about the trapeze accident?"

"He planned it," said Ella, suddenly changing her pattern and following a brownish line around the edge of the carpet. "He rigged the wires so they would snap in the air. He wanted our parents dead for what they did to him. He told me everything that night and said if I ever told anyone else, he'd kill me, too."

Ella stopped walking and stared at her shoes. She'd done it. She'd told Bruce the truth. But even worse than that, she had told Batman the truth. Her heart sank, and she was filled with an overwhelming dread at what she had just done. Vince was going to find out she had talked, and then Vince was going to kill her.

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Oh, no! Will Batman be able to defeat the Detective? Will Ella's brother come back to seek his revenge? Find out in the next issue of Bruce Wayne: Father!

And that is my impression of an old fashioned comic book.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Ella's trust in her guardian is fluctuating a lot as she struggles with the concept of someone actually caring for her. Let me know if it seems like I am rushing anything or should slow down certain aspects of emotional growth. It's hard to write reactions for a situation you have never been in, so hopefully, this is all making sense! Thanks for all the support and I'll see you guys next chapter :)