Your reviews are all so sweet! Thank you for your support! Disclaimer: I own nothing Batman/DC

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Everything was…foggy. Perhaps foggy was not the right word. Wavy seemed better. Ella would have said, "offbeat vibing." Ella. The thought of her made Bruce smile. After the Joker had killed the only woman he ever loved, Bruce had been sure his heart would never feel full again. Then that precious girl had entered his life.

Bruce tried to roll over, but pain shot through his leg, and a deep groan escaped his throat. An overwhelming urge shot over him to remove his cowl, but he didn't dare risk exposing his identity. The waves distorted his vision again and an involuntary whimper slipped free.

First, the Joker took Rachel from Bruce, and now he was going to take Bruce from Ella. "Never…again," whispered Bruce, painfully rolling his head to the side to look at the body of the Joker, stretched out on the ground ten feet away from him. He was dead.

The two had been fighting on the side of the building above them when the Joker lost his footing and pulled Bruce over the edge with him. Bruce had twisted so the Joker was beneath him, killing the man instantly on impact, while Bruce himself faired hardly better. It had taken him twenty minutes to crawl just a few feet, and now his energy was gone.

His mind turned to the papers sitting in his dresser drawer. The adoption papers. His original plan had consisted of taking Ella to one of his hotels and proposing the idea there, but Alfred had kindly reminded him that the last thing Ella would find enjoyable would be dressing up and eating fancy food. The secondary plan was much more suited to the girl's interest and involved a walk in the woods surrounding Wayne Manor, followed by asking Ella to be his daughter by the beautiful waterfall at the edge of the property. Bruce had planned on down it the night before Thanksgiving, just two days away. Now he would never have the chance.

…

Ella swung the front door open and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the outside.

"Miss Ferrera, am I correct?" came a deep, rich voice.

"Yes, sir," nodded Ella, making out the shape of a tall man on the front landing. When the doorbell rang, Ella had decided she would have to answer it since Alfred was down in the Batcave. He had explained to her that Bruce had donned the suit for an urgent matter and promised to tell her everything after the vigilante was home safe and sound.

"I'm sorry to use the front door, but I've never been here and don't know how to access to Batcave," said the man.

"Batcave!" gasped Ella, her heart picking up speed. "How do you know…"

"My name is Lucius Fox," said the man. "And I'm sorry to not further explain myself, but we need to get him inside."

Only then did Ella looked past him and see the Tumbler parked in the front circle. She had never seen it in real life, and it gave her a shot of adrenaline, followed by a jolt of fear.

"Where's Bruce?" she whispered.

"Help me," said Fox, and turned to walk down the stairs. Ella hurried after him and watched, her heart pounding as he opened the passenger door revealing the unconscious form of the Batman.

"No!" cried Ella, a sob catching in her throat. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Alfred. He gently moved her aside and helped Lucius pull Bruce's body from the car.

"I got your message," grunted Alfred.

"He's in bad shape," said Lucius, stooping under Bruce's weight.

Ella followed the men up the steps as they awkwardly carried Bruce inside. A million thoughts swirled through her mind, and she had to grab the doorpost to keep from falling over as she watched Alfred and Fox struggle to carry Bruce to the first-floor guest room.

"Ella! Go to my room and get the black bag under my bed!" called Alfred.

His voice seemed to flip a switch inside of her, and her one focus was suddenly doing whatever Bruce needed. Ella raced to Alfred's bedroom and slid to her knees by his bed, grasping underneath until her fingers closed over a leather medical bag. It was heavier than she expected, and she held it in both arms as she ran back to the bedroom Alfred and Fox had headed for.

"Should we remove the suit and take him to the hospital?" asked Fox.

"Perhaps," mumbled Alfred, taking the bag from Ella and giving her hand a quick, comforting squeeze. "It's alright, love," he said. "You can sit over there or leave. Whichever you prefer. Bruce will be alright." His voice sounded shaky, and he didn't make eye contact with the girl, instead choosing to focus on the contents of the bag and pulling out different medical instruments.

Ella backed away and, for the first time, looked at Bruce. His cowl had been removed, and he lay motionless on the bed while Fox bustled around him, starting to take off the suit. Bruce looked deathly pale, and blood had dried to his face as it trickled from his mouth. It was too much for her terrified heart. Ella turned and ran from the room and didn't stop until she was under the covers of her own bed. Then the sobs overtook her and she cried harder than she had in a very long time.

…

"I'm surprised he didn't find the camera, but I'm glad he didn't," said Fox, crossing his legs and leaning back in the comfortable chair he occupied. "He would have removed it for sure."

"Do you know how it happened?" asked Alfred, cutting the thread as he finished stitching a large gash on Bruce's forearm.

"The camera doesn't record, and I didn't look until he was out cold on the ground," said Fox.

The camera they were discussing was a hidden lens that Fox had built into the underside of the Tumbler. He wasn't sure what had made him do it, but a funny thought had itched his brain after showing Bruce the vehicle, and he had ultimately decided to attach the camera in case Bruce tried to get himself into something too big for Batman. It was a miracle that Fox had even checked the live footage when he did, and an even bigger miracle that Bruce had stopped moving within view of the camera. It had then been a matter of arriving before anyone else discovered the bodies, and another twenty minutes to lift the heavy man into the Tumbler. Fox was no spring chicken, and Bruce was a solid brick of muscle.

"Bloody fool," mumbled Alfred.

"Wayne?" asked Fox.

"Me," sighed Alfred. "When he told me this afternoon what he planned on doing, I knew he was in too much of a rage. I should have stopped him."

"Could you have?" mused Fox, raising an eyebrow.

Alfred scoffed, "No, I suppose not."

"The helicopter he requested is on the top of the capitol building. Heavens knows what he did with it," said Fox. "He wouldn't tell me a thing when he asked for it."

"Annoying, isn't it?" said Alfred, beginning on another gash near Bruce's shoulder.

"The less I know, the better," shrugged Fox.

"You're sure the clown was dead?" asked Alfred.

"Positive," nodded Fox. "I made sure the police arrived before I left. The body is in the right hands."

The two men fell silent as Alfred worked.

The night stretched on.

…

Ella woke up around six and was somewhat confused as to why she was sleeping on the wrong side of the bed under a pile of blankets. She struggled free and looked around her dim room, blinking the sleep from her eyes and stretching.

"What day is it?" she mumbled to no one in particular. Like a train, the memory of the previous night barreled into her, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach. That explained why her shoes were still on.

All thoughts of getting ready for the day escaped her mind as she dashed from the room and headed straight for the first-floor guest bedroom. She only slipped twice on the stairs, partly due to the foggy sleep still resting in her eyes and partly due to her shaking legs, but once on the main floor, her legs carried her sturdily down two halls until she came to a stop in front of the guest room door.

Should she go in? Knock? Sit and wait?

Her questions were answered when the door cracked open, and Lucius Fox slipped out. "Mr. Pennyworth heard you run up and asked me to come out," he said, his voice low and gentle. "Bruce is asleep. You can go in but stay quiet."

"Okay," nodded Ella, her body inadvertently bouncing up and down with nervous energy. Fox stepped aside, and Ella hurried past him into the dimly lit room.

A lamp was on in the far corner, casting a yellowish glow over the large mahogany bed. Bruce was under the covers and now wearing a white t-shirt in place of his suit. His hair was messy and flopped down over his closed eyes. Alfred sat beside him, gazing intently at his face as if waiting for any sign of consciousness.

"Come close," mumbled Alfred, holding his hand out, but his eyes still on Bruce.

Ella gingerly stepped around the bed and came to Alfred's side. The butler put his arm around her waist and drew her around to sit on his knee, wrapping both arms around the girl and pulling her close against himself. Ella's head rested on his shoulder and she took a shaky breath.

"He'll be alright," nodded Alfred, reassuringly rubbing Ella's back. "He woke up a while back and I think he's resting fairly peacefully now. I've stitched all the cuts and set his leg. Aside from some nasty bruises, he should be fine after a lot of much-needed rest."

"Leg?" whimpered Ella. "What's wrong with his leg?"

"Broken," replied Alfred. "But not badly. It's his knee I'm worried about. As soon as he's awake, we'll need to discuss further medical care. It will take someone beyond my expertise."

"Why did this happen?" asked Ella, tightening her grip around Alfred's chest. "I just found out he was Batman two days ago and now this. Who did this to him? It has to do with Vince, doesn't it? Bruce didn't go to any business meeting yesterday. Did he?"

Alfred sighed, "No, love. He didn't. Now I'm going to do a whole lot of talking, and I want you to do a whole lot of listening. Deal? You can ask questions when I'm done."

"Okay," murmured Ella.

Alfred shifted into a more comfortable position so he could still keep an eye on Bruce's face and cleared his throat, "I know we promised you we'd be open, but Bruce also warned you that some things he would have to keep private. Now I can't tell him what he should and shouldn't share with you, but this was a rather unique situation. A few days ago, the Joker broke out of Arkham." Alfred felt Ella tense in his arms, but she didn't say anything, allowing him to continue, "That's who cut Bruce up when you found us the other night. Or morning. The days are starting to run together. Anyway, when you told us about your brother, Bruce went down to see what he could dig up. Turns out Vince Ferrera is in very close working quarters with this fellow the Joker. After what you told Bruce, he suddenly found himself scared of losing you. Now what do I mean by that, I'm sure you're wondering? First of all, your brother is a money launderer, and Bruce discovered that Vince has ties with Wayne Enterprises. For a man of your brother's standing, that could only mean one thing."

"He was stealing," whispered Ella.

"Right," nodded Alfred. "Second, if your brother is working with the Joker, something big was going to go down soon, and it could very well have involved you. How? Knowing your brother's background, he would be in it for the money. And Bruce thought that a sure way for him to get money was through the billionaire himself. Surely your brother would know who your guardian is, and what would stop him from using you to his advantage?"

"To get Bruce's money," said Ella, sitting upright on Alfred's lap.

Alfred nodded, "Exactly what Bruce feared. Vince was working with the Joker, though. And we know from experience that money means nothing to the man. Yet he knows how to use people, and he could very well have used your brother to bring down Bruce Wayne. Of course, he couldn't have known that Bruce was Batman, but to bring down someone who has as much pull in this city as Bruce does would surely cause chaos."

"And it would have been my fault," said Ella, her dark eyes filled with a deep dread.

"No," said Alfred, shaking his head sharply. "Absolutely not. The sins of others are the faults of no one but themselves. We all have choices, young lady. Your brother has not made sagacious ones in his life. That has nothing to do with you."

"What if I had never told Bruce the truth?" whimpered Ella, a tear sliding down her cheek. "What if everything you just said had happened? Then it would have been my fault for keeping it to myself."

"Now, is that what happened?" asked Alfred. "No. You did a courageous thing sharing your past with us, and it was perfect timing, too. We won't have to worry about that devil the Joker anymore."

"What happened?" asked Ella. "How did Bruce get like this? Is the Joker dead?"

Alfred nodded, "Yes, he's dead. We aren't sure what happened, but he's dead. As for Bruce, Mr. Fox doesn't know how he got like this, but we have an awful lot to thank him for. He found Bruce and brought him home and we owe Mr. Fox an enormous amount of gratitude."

"How does he know?" asked Ella, wiping at the tears that kept slipping free. "About Batman?"

"He's been our friend since the beginning," replied Alfred. "Where do you think Bruce gets all his fancy Batman toys? Mr. Fox is our insider at Wayne Enterprises for all things Batman."

"You have an insider in Bruce's own company?" asked Ella.

"Yes, and thank heavens, we do," nodded Alfred.

"Alfred," said Ella, turning and looking intently at Bruce. "Did Mr. Fox see…does he know if…" she sighed deeply, "where is my brother?"

"I don't know, dear," said Alfred truthfully. "Bruce spoke to me very little while he was working tonight, and he never mentioned your brother. I honestly don't know."

The conversation was halted when a slight moan escaped Bruce's lips, and in seconds, both butler and ward were at his side.

"Master Wayne?" asked Alfred, touching the man's forehead lightly.

"Oh, Alfred," groaned Bruce, squeezing his eyes and then slowly opening them. "I think I got run over by a truck."

"Well, since none of us knows differently, you very well could have been," replied Alfred, grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table.

"I don't think I was," said Bruce, shifting uncomfortably. "But I did fall off a building. How did I get here? Ella, darling!" Bruce's eyes came to life when he noticed Ella at Alfred's side.

"Bruce!" cried Ella, fighting back the threatening tears that gathered in her eyes. She felt like she had been crying for days. "Bruce, I thought you were going to die!"

Bruce chuckled, "Oh, not yet, missy." He reached out and shakily grasped Ella's hand in his. "I'm going to be just fine, kid."

Alfred, himself fighting back the tears, cleared his throat and stood up, "Alright, we're all delighted you are back to life but no more of this 'just fine' business until we make sure it's true. You've got broken bones and a black eye and probably some bruised ribs and we need to make up an excellent excuse and get you to the hospital."

"Skiing?" smirked Bruce.

"Now, don't bring up that horrible trip," said Alfred, pointing a stern finger at his young master. "Those are memories I don't need right now. I was thinking of a flying accident. Perhaps something that involves stranding the prototype helicopter you borrowed from the Wayne Enterprises' Applied Sciences Division."

"I think we could work with that," nodded Bruce. "It would be nice to get some real medical help for a change."

"He's awake for two minutes, and already the sarcasm runs free," huffed Alfred, faking a gruff voice.

"Oh, Alfred, you know I wouldn't trade you for the world," smiled Bruce, his hand still tightly wrapped around Ella's.

"Don't move a muscle from that bed, young man," instructed Alfred sternly as he left to arrange the hospital situation with Fox.

"Oh, Bruce!" cried Ella, throwing herself onto him the minute the door shut behind Alfred.

"Hey, now," chuckled Bruce, wincing, "watch the…well, all of me."

"I'm sorry," whimpered Ella, moving, so she lay to his side, arm around his chest, "I was so scared, Bruce."

"So was I," admitted the man, already feeling a million times better to be here with his girl. His girl. It felt good to think of her that way. "And actually, I have something kind of important to ask you."

"What Bruce?" asked Ella, sitting up so she could see his face.

"When I fell off that building, I thought for sure I was going to die," said Bruce, the memory giving him a chill. "And the only thing I could think of was that I never had a chance to ask you."

"Ask me what?" urged Ella, searching his eyes.

"Can you go and get something from my room?" asked Bruce. "In the top drawer of my dresser, there is an envelope with my name on it. Bring it down here, but don't look inside, okay?"

"Okay," nodded Ella, scrambling to her feet. "I'll be right back!"

It seemed to Ella she had been running through the manor a lot recently, but again she found herself racing up the stairs to Bruce's bedroom. She opened all three top drawers of the dresser before finding the folder in the last one, and then it was back through the halls and stairwells to the guest room downstairs.

"I got it!" she said, cheeks pink from her run.

"Open it," nodded Bruce, wanting to do it himself but realizing he could barely lift his arms.

Ella pulled the tri-folded papers from the unsealed envelope and looked questioningly at Bruce. With his nod, she opened the documents and scanned the first one.

"What…what is this, Bruce?" she asked, the realization not sinking in.

"Adoption papers," said the man. "I was planning on asking you in a slightly more exciting way, but I realized that there is no time like the present. Ella Ferrera, would you do me the honor of being my daughter?"

The emotions that flooded Ella's heart were so many and so strong that she was quite surprised it didn't knock her over. The papers dropped from her hand, and the tears that had been forced down for the past few minutes broke free. Dropping to her knees by the bed, Ella resumed her position at Bruce's side, her right arm thrown over his chest, as her words sought to free themselves, but were drowned out by her sobs.

"Hey, now," smiled Bruce, "I didn't think I would make all that terrible of a father."

"Oh, Bruce!" cried Ella, her voice muffled in his blankets. "You're the only father I would ever want!"

The words shot straight to Bruce's heart, and he now found himself crying. Tears were in full abundance in Wayne Manor that morning. With a wince and a shot of pain, Bruce lifted his left arm up and over Ella and held her close. "Those are the sweetest words I have ever heard," he mumbled, pulling her upward and pressing his lips to her head. "My daughter. My own little girl. I love you, Ella. I love you more than you can ever imagine."

"I love you too, Bruce," sobbed Ella, resting her head on his chest. "I love you too."

...

Awwwwww. Now, this is the chapter I have been dying to write. It's all cute Bruce and Ella stuff from here on out, guys! Well, I mean Batman is still brooding and dark but let's face it, with Ella at his side, Bruce can't help but be adorable.