Oh boy, guys, this is getting exciting. I promise I intended for this to be a cute little story of Daddy Bruce bringing up a kid, but it has definitely taken an adventurous turn. We'll get there. We just have to deal with some bad guys first. Disclaimer: I own nothing Batman/DC

...

Every inch of Ella's body ached. There was a blanket on her, but with the fever raging inside of her, the coolness of the room was welcome. Removing the cover was not really an option, though, since Ella couldn't move any of her limbs. She supposed she could have if she really tried, but the world seemed too fuzzy and heavy to bother.

"Dad," she whispered, wondering where Bruce was. Would he have left her if he knew she was this sick? Maybe he was downstairs with Alfred. "Dad," she tried again, a little louder. It was still too soft to be heard across the room, much less the first floor of the enormous manor.

"Settle down, kid," came a voice. It wasn't Bruce's voice, but Ella couldn't find the energy to care at that moment. "You weren't kidding about being sick," said the voice. "I swear, if you die on me, I will be so screwed. You have no idea how much I owe…never mind. Can you even hear me? Ella? Screw it, I don't have time for this. Rena!"

The voice got farther away, and Ella groaned. Her legs felt hurt so bad that she wanted to scream. Why was she so hot? Oh, yeah. The fever. Things weren't resonating for very long in her brain.

"Okay, babe, let's see what we can do," came another voice. This was a lady. The last one was a man. "Want some water?" asked the voice. "Try to sit up a little." Ella did try and felt a hand support her. Then a plastic cup touched her lips and she drank, finding a wild thirst she had been previously unaware of. "Okay, not so fast!" said the voice. "There we go. Better? Alright, lie back down. Just go back to sleep, and everything will be fine."

Ella didn't need to be told twice.

…

"You're a lucky man," said Alfred, placing a bandage on Bruce's chest. "It must have passed between your arm and chest and just nicked your skin."

"Bled like heck," said Bruce, wincing as Alfred cleaned up the wound. "Hurt like it, too. Heh, listen to me. I'm using Ella's words."

"Yes, your language has cleaned up considerably in the past months," nodded Alfred. He looked at Bruce, grave seriousness in his eyes, "Do you think he'll hurt her?"

"I don't know," said Bruce, shifting position on his bed. "I tend to think he won't, but he's wild. A sociopath. Who knows what he'll do? I need to…ah!"

"Bruce, let's call the police," said Alfred, grabbing hold of Bruce as the man squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, pain shooting through his body as he attempted to stand.

"Heh," chuckled Bruce, "you called me Bruce."

"Because I am talking to you not as your butler, but as the man who raised you and loves you and also loves a sweet little girl whose life is in danger," said Alfred, locking eye contact with Bruce with a look that sent chills through the younger man's spine. "You are not putting on that Batman suit, and you are not getting out of this bed. We will call the police and handle this exactly as Ferrera instructed. The only thing that matters right now is getting our little girl back. Do I make myself clear?"

Fear. There was fear in Alfred's eyes, unlike any Bruce had seen there before. He knew his own eyes held the same look. "Yeah," nodded the man, his breath hitching as he lay back on the pillows. "Call the police. Gordon will know what to do. He's come a long way."

"Very good," nodded Alfred, standing and shuffling towards the door. Bruce could tell the older man was mustering all his strength as the sickness still had its grip on him. Dark circles rested below Alfred's eyes, and his skin was pale and cold. The steadfast butler was stronger than Bruce generally gave him credit for.

"Alfred," whispered Bruce.

The butler turned; his dark frame silhouetted in the bedroom door from the light in the hallway.

"I don't care how much it takes," said Bruce, tears forming in his eyes. "Give him anything. Get her back. I can't do it again."

Alfred was still a moment and then nodded. He knew Bruce was thinking of Rachel, and he planned on doing whatever it took to spare his young master that pain. Besides, Alfred was more invested this time. He had cared about Rachel, of course, but as a friend. Ella was much more than that. Legally she was Ella Wayne and Bruce's daughter, but in Alfred's heart, that little girl was just as important to him as Bruce was. "We'll get her back, sir."

…

"Vince!" Ella sat bolt upright and looked around the room, breathing heavily. She was drenched in a cold sweat, and her heart was beating so fast she was sure it was going to explode. "Vince, where are you!" She wasn't in Wayne Manor as she had previously thought. Everything was coming back now, and she remembered that Vince had taken her.

"Hush, darling," said a woman, speaking from the corner. It was dimly lit in the room, and Ella couldn't quite make out who was speaking. She recognized the voice as the woman who had given her water.

"Who are you?" she asked, shifting uneasily in the bed.

"Rena," said the woman. Ella saw a shape rise in the darkness and slowly walk toward her. It was a strange walk, almost like a model. The woman's figure was slim and carried with confidence. Finally, the body emerged into the light being cast from a lamp beside the bed. "Irena Dubrovna." Ella looked over this new person and was a bit surprised by what she saw. Irena was quite beautiful with big black eyes and jet black hair, hanging loose below her shoulders. Her lips were a bold red and turned up slightly at the corners. The clothes she wore were tasteful and well-tailored, and she looked exactly like the kind of woman Vince never hung out with.

"Why are you here?" asked Ella.

"Your fever has broken," said Irena, coming closer. She placed a hand on Ella's head and nodded, "Mmhmm. Thank goodness. You had me a little worried there for a while. You are drenched in sweat, though. A shower would do you good, but I doubt Vince will approve. He's a funny sort of man."

"He's insane," said Ella, eyeing Irena carefully.

"I suppose he might be," shrugged Irena. "But everyone is a little insane. Especially the rich daddy of yours. I've heard some truly wild stories about him from the women he keeps company with."

"How?" asked Ella. "Who are you? Why are you with Vince? How do you know anyone my dad knows?"

"It's a long story, and probably too boring for you," sighed Irena, crossing the room and hitting a light switch. The room was illuminated with a yellowish glow, and Ella blinked, adjusting to the brighter atmosphere. She now saw that she was in an ordinary bedroom furnished with a bed, nightstand, dresser, and several houseplants. There were heavy black drapes over the window and a large bolt on the door, but other than that, it could have been any run-of-the-mill apartment bedroom. "Take some of this," said Irena, scooping up a bottle from the dresser and popping the cap off. "Tylenol. Grab that water on the nightstand."

Ella glanced to her right and picked up the cup of water sitting beside her. Irena handed her a few Tylenol, which Ella quickly washed down with the entirety of the cup.

"Great," said Irena, taking the empty plastic cup. "I will go and make you some tea. Fluids are essential. Some soup would be good, too, but who knows if that brother of yours thought to bring any food. I'll be back soon, kid."

Irena left the room, walking with an almost sensuous slink, and Ella heard a bolt slide shut on the other side of the door. Odd to have bolts on both sides of a door. Two could play at that game. Ella jumped from the bed and crossed the room, sliding the inside lock shut as well. The next job was to fling the drapes open, allowing the blinding sunlight to enter the room. Ella closed her eyes and stumbled backward, caught off guard from the sudden blast of light. She had been reasonably sure it was still night and felt somewhat disappointed that she didn't have the cover of darkness to work with. Pushing those thoughts aside, Ella hurried back to the bed and found her shoes sitting by the nightstand. Once she was dressed and had taken a few deep breaths, Ella went back to the window and took a good look at her surroundings.

The window provided a stunning view over a snow-covered lawn that led to a frozen pond. Trees surrounded the area, their branches glinting as the sun hit the icy bark. The drop from the window was no more than five feet, and Ella wasted little time in sliding up the pane and lowering herself to the ground. The cold air enveloped her and she shivered, the sudden change in temperature making her feel faint.

"Probably not the best situation for someone who just had a fever," mumbled Ella, trudging through the ankle-high snow and hurrying around the large, brick house. What she found on the other side rather shocked her, but was just as quickly replaced with a sense of relief.

She was in a housing development. Dozens of other red brick homes dotted the quiet streets, and two or three cars drove slowly by, snow melting from their windows and tops. Ella looked to her right and saw a line of pine trees, which she ran straight into, ignoring the scratches and bites of the sharp branches. Once she was on the other side, she allowed herself to stop and breathe, hoping she was hidden from anyone's view in the house.

"What now?" she whispered. Did she dare go knock on a door and ask for help? If Vince found her, he could very well kill the homeowners, and it would be her fault. Maybe she should just run and see if she could find a town? Housing developments like this were usually close to towns, weren't they? She sighed and shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms. Having never left Gotham City until going to live with Bruce, this sort of area was reasonably unknown to Ella, and she wasn't really sure where to go. Besides that, she was freezing, her shoes were filled with snow, and her chest felt like it was full of sludge.

A police car.

There was a police car parked down the street, the words on the door reading Sommerset Police. Sommerset was on the mainland, which meant they hadn't crossed over into the central part of the city. Gathering her courage, Ella ran down the line of trees and hit the sidewalk, keeping a careful eye out for ice and anyone chasing behind her. The police car couldn't be any more than five houses down.

"There you are, silly girl!"

A hand grabbed Ella's arm and spun her around, and was followed instantly by a gun pressing into her side. It was Irena. She had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"Come on back to the house, honey, you forgot your coat," smiled the woman. She was a good actress, and Ella knew anyone watching would think they were indeed mother and daughter experiencing a typical school morning. "Okay, in we go," nodded Irena, ushering Ella in through the front door of the beautiful brick home. She shut it gently and flipped the lock, then turned, glaring and shaking her head at Ella. "Good try, kid," she said. "I give you credit for being quiet. I had no idea you were gone until I found out your door was locked. Next time you need to remember that snow leaves very obvious footprints. Okay, let's get you back in bed. Outside in the cold is not an ideal place for someone who just battled a 103-degree fever. Also, it is incredibly rude to just leave abruptly after someone offers to make you tea; and I found a can of soup, so we will really have a feast for breakfast. Come into the kitchen. I obviously can't leave you alone anymore. You can go back to bed after you eat."

"I don't want to eat," mumbled Ella, stumbling along behind Irena down a carpeted hall and into a beautiful, updated kitchen. In truth, she was starving and longed to warm up with some tea.

"I don't believe that," said Irena, pulling a chair out from a breakfast table and pushing Ella into it. "Here, have some tea." She set a cup of steaming brown tea in front of Ella and then started opening cupboards and drawers. "There must be a pot or something here to heat up the soup. Ah, this will do."

Ella watched as the woman moved around the kitchen, her feet barely touching the ground as she moved. There was something almost…catlike about her. "Who are you really?" asked Ella. "Are you an acrobat, too? Is that how you met Vince?"

"No," said Irena, finding a can opener in a drawer. "That's not how I met Vince. I hope you like chicken noodle soup. Is there anyone that doesn't like it? How is your tea?"

"Fine," said Ella, never taking her eyes off the woman, the tea was forgotten at her side. "Where is Vince?"

"Business," replied Irena, turning on the gas burner. "Things are going well. You should be back home by tomorrow morning. For the record, I hear reports that Bruce Wayne was shot by an intruder, but it only grazed the skin."

Relief flooded over Ella's body, and she let out a deep breath. "Thank goodness," she muttered, picking up the cup and inhaling the scent of the tea. It ashamed her a little that she hadn't given much thought to Bruce or Alfred since waking up. She had been so focused on escaping that she had almost forgotten about the visions of a blood-soaked Bruce she had been plagued with during her fever. The tea tasted bitter but warmed her insides, and she drank another sip.

A door banged somewhere in the house, and a minute later, Vince entered the kitchen, throwing his car keys on the counter. "I see you decided to wake up," he said, crossing the kitchen and putting his arms around Irena.

"Oh, we aren't that friendly yet," she smirked, pushing him off and grabbing a spoon to stir the soup.

Vince grinned at her then walked over to sit beside Ella at the table, "How you feeling? I don't have much experience with kids and sickness and all that. Thank goodness Irena was available."

"More like itching to even us up," replied Irena, turning the stove down a notch. "After this, I owe you nothing, Ferrera."

"Oh, hush," said Vince, stretching his arms and yawning. "Gosh, I'm tired. Keep the kid quiet, will you? I'm going to bed. Everything is running smoothly and should be done by tomorrow night. Say what's with the cop down the street?" He pulled a gun from his jacket pocket as he spoke and twirled it absentmindedly on his finger.

"It's nothing," replied Irena. "He's just speed checking cars that come around that bend too quickly."

"Good," nodded, Vince, pushing his chair back and standing up. He slid the gun into the back of his pants and kicked the chair back in. "I'm off." He left the kitchen, his heavy footsteps pounding on an unseen staircase, leaving Irena and Ella alone again.

"Your brother is a unique person," said Irena, rolling her eyes as she turned the stove off. "Let's just say I hope to be free of him after this little arrangement."

"What arrangement?" asked Ella. She sipped her tea again. "He asked you to come here?"

"You heard him," said Irena, pulling bowls from a cupboard. "I owed him one and he doesn't know how to take care of sick kids."

"I'm not really a kid," said Ella.

"You are a kid," smiled Irena, using the flat spoon to awkwardly ladle soup into the bowls. She gave up and poured it straight from the pot. "But that's not a bad thing. Believe me, your brother would be treating you much harsher if you were older than you are. He's not someone to be messed with."

"I know," said Ella, watching as Irena set a bowl of soup in front of her and then sank into the chair Vince had just used. "He shot my dad."

"And I've already told you Mr. Wayne is fine," said Irena, dipping her spoon into the mixture of broth and noodles. "How about you eat your soup and think about going home. You'll be back before you know it."

Ella set her tea down and glared back and forth between Irena and the soup. Part of her wanted to refuse to eat, but another part – the bigger part – was absolutely starving. Hunger took over and she picked up her spoon, indulging in the delicious hot broth. She ate half the bowl before setting her spoon down and sighing, "It's not as good as Alfred's."

"Who is Alfred?" asked Irena, going back to the stove for seconds.

"Our butler," replied Ella, spinning the spoon around in the bowl. "He's like a grandpa to me."

"Your butler cooks for you?" smirked Irena. "Can't Mr. Wayne afford a cook?"

"Dad doesn't like a lot of people around," said Ella, watching her words carefully so as not to say anything suspicious. "He's a very private person."

"Is that why he goes swimming in hotel fountains and vacationing with entire ballets?" teased Irena, returning to her seat.

"How did you know that? And that's just for show," said Ella, glaring at Irena. "He's got a company to run and he wants people to like him, I guess. I don't know. He's not like that at home. And he hasn't really done any of that stuff since I moved in."

"You grounded him," said Irena.

Ella looked up and narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"You grounded him," repeated the woman. "He was alone and floundering. You gave him something to focus on. He must love you very much."

Ella was taken back by the sincerity of Irena's words, and she gave her a quizzical look, tilting her head to one side. It had never occurred to her that she had given Bruce mental solidification like that, but it didn't sound all that far-fetched.

"You look tired," said Irena. "Finish eating so we can go back to bed. What I mean is, I'm tired. And I can't leave you alone so we need to figure out a plan so I can get some sleep. Hurry up while I do these dishes."

Ella took another bite of soup and watched Irena curiously. She was a lot kinder than one would expect a criminal to be, but that didn't give Ella any reason to trust her. She was, after all, helping Vince. But Irena's eyes had a look that made Ella want to tell her anything and everything. She couldn't quite explain why, but Ella didn't want to be separated from the mysterious woman until it was time to go back home. Irena made her feel safe, and that was a feeling Ella desperately missed from the warmth of Bruce's care.

…

The pain in his knee was almost blinding him, but Bruce focused his gaze on the windows of the house across the street, searching for any movement. He winced as he changed positions, and his suit pressed against the wound on his chest. It was nearly midnight, and he expected Vince Ferrera to leave any minute to get the money. Of course, Bruce had provided him with fully marked bills and complete support of the Gotham City police's plan, but that hadn't stopped him from donning the suit and coming to work out the problem for himself.

Alfred didn't know, of course. Bruce had woken up that afternoon feeling a little stronger than before and had quietly slipped straight down to the cave, powered by a crazy amount of medication and an energy shot. Bruce gave himself a couple more hours at the most before he lost his drive, and smacked the wheel of the Tumbler impatiently. It had taken him nearly an hour to track Vince to this house, and another twenty minutes to drive there. Using the darkness as his cover, he had backed the Tumbler up beside a line of trees where he still had a view of the house, but no one could easily spot the strange vehicle in the quiet, upscale neighborhood.

"Gotcha," whispered Bruce as he saw a car back out of the driveway. The police would do their job after Ferrera picked up the money. Bruce's only goal now was to get his daughter back. Climbing out of the Tumbler, Bruce limped across the snowy yard and circled the house, finding a backdoor leading to a dimly lit kitchen. The doorknob was locked, but he had it open in a few seconds and quietly entered the house, checking his surroundings carefully.

Footsteps sounded above him, and he slipped through a nearby doorway, finding stairs to his right. Ascending them as quickly as possible, he floated through the shadows down a narrow hallway towards a closed door with light streaming out below it. Voices came from inside and he felt his heart speed up when he recognized Ella's low tones. The other voice was a woman's and he could not place it. A second later, the door opened and a tall, thin woman left, closing it behind her and walking the opposite direction. Bruce froze, not even breathing, and it seemed he went unnoticed in the darkness.

Hurrying down the rest of the hall, he silently pushed the door open and slid into the room.

"Dad!" gasped Ella, sitting across from him on a queen-sized bed.

Seconds later, the two were wrapped in each other's embrace, Ella crying into Bruce's shoulder while he held her tightly against his chest, emotions flooding over him.

"Dad, you came for me!" whispered Ella, the tears flowing freely as relief flooded her veins. It wasn't incredibly comfortable to be pressed against the Batsuit, but that was the last thing she was thinking about right now. "I was so scared, Dad. I thought I'd never see you again."

"You're safe," mumbled Bruce, his voice low and husky. "You don't know me." Ella knew what he meant. She shouldn't call him Dad in case they were found, and someone guessed his identity. "Let's go," said Bruce, taking her hand. He turned to go back out the door but instead came face-to-face with a tall, masked woman.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," said Irena, now dressed in a skin-tight leather suit with a black mask covering half her face. "I never would have guessed it was you. A billionaire who spends his time ridding Gotham of its greatest criminals? Truly, an interesting hobby." A gun was in Irena's hand, aimed directly at Bruce's face. "I suppose you have someone picking Vince up? The Batman isn't known for leaving loose ends. Tell me, Ella, did you know your daddy was Batman?"

"Who are you?" asked Bruce, his voice still low.

"My name is Selina Kyle, but I try other ones out for fun sometimes," she shrugged. "There is a lot about me and no time to give you a full history, so believe me when I tell you this: Vince Ferrera will escape whatever plan you have, as I'm sure it involves the police and he knows a trap when he sees one. Your best bet is to go and cut him off now. I suppose you won't kill him, though. No worries, I can handle that bit."

"Who do you work for?" asked Bruce, pulling Ella closer and slightly behind him.

"I work for no one," said Irena, smiling. "But Vince has recently covered up some bad behavior of mine, and I took care of Ella to even us up, as well as some other things we won't talk about in front of a kid. Look, I know you don't trust me, but believe me when I say you can. Do exactly what I say and Vince will never bother you again; I'll be on my way out of Gotham forever, and you can take your kid back home safe and sound. Do we have a deal?"

Ella gripped Bruce's gloved hand tightly and felt him move slightly as if he were about to fall over. He took a shaky breath and steadied himself with the support of the dresser beside him. "I don't think so," he said. "If you know what's good for you, you'll give me that gun and come with us. I can personally get you into the most comfortable cell in Blackgate Prison."

"Not exactly how I envisioned this ending, but it will have to do," sighed Irena. She pulled the trigger, and a dart imbedded itself in Bruce's cheek. He yelped and pulled it out, but dropped to the ground within seconds, completely unconscious.

"Dad, no!" shrieked Ella, dropping down beside him.

Irena walked over and knelt down, beginning to remove the cowl from Bruce's face. "Don't worry, he's fine," she said calmly. "He'll be asleep for a while, though. Help me get him out of this costume. I saw his…whatever that thing is he drives…parked across the lawn. Do what I say, and you'll be home before morning." She stopped, Bruce's cowl in one hand, and his head supported with her other and looked directly at Ella. "Do you trust me?"

Ella looked back, searching Irena's…or was it Selina's?...big, dark eyes.

"Yes," she nodded. And she really did.

…

Thank you so, so, so much for reading! Your reviews mean the world and I am glad people enjoy this story! Let me know what you thought of this chapter and thanks a million times over for taking the time to read!