So...kind of haven't updated this in like a million years but here is a quick chapter. My schedule is lightening up soon, so that should mean more writing! Thanks to everyone who has favorited/followed/reviewed...you're the best! And thanks to anyone who has just stopped in to read. Your support spurs me on.

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"I don't know what her problem is," said Bruce, dropping into his easy chair. "I went in to say goodnight, and she barely spoke to me. What happened to the peppy early-bird that dragged me out of bed this morning?"

"Mr. Grayson happened," replied Alfred, settling onto a sofa with his sewing box and the swimsuit Ella had been wearing on the beach.

Bruce watched him for a minute, an eyebrow raised, as the butler got settled. "Alfred," he said, leaning to his side to alleviate the weight on his sore leg, "what the absolute heck are you doing?"

"Absolute heck?" repeated Alfred. "That's an awfully Ella thing to say. And I am mending the tear on the back of her swimsuit."

"Why?" asked Bruce. "I mean not the swimsuit specifically, but why do you mend things? I saw you mending a sock the other day. A sock, Alfred. A sock?"

"There is nothing wrong with the dying art of mending clothing," replied Alfred, threading his needle.

"What do you mean 'Mr. Grayson happened?'" asked Bruce.

"Sir?" asked Alfred, "Ah, yes. Mr. Grayson. Well, he was getting an awful lot of adult attention, and she was getting very little attention, and it was very child-based."

"What?" asked Bruce.

"She felt Mr. Grayson received treatment as your equal, and she received treatment as a child," clarified Alfred. "She brought him here as a friend, and he left as a business acquaintance of her father's."

Bruce sat a moment, staring at Alfred's hands as the man placed careful stitches over the back of the swimsuit. He shifted again. His knee hurt. Probably from the sun. Bruce enjoyed blaming his pain on random, circumstantial events instead of the fact that jumping off buildings had destroyed his joints. "Oh," he finally said. "I guess I can understand that." Another moment of silence. Bruce groaned, "Yeah, I suppose that did happen. Alfred, it wasn't my fault! You saw that hunky, swimmer boy stride in here with his black hair all slicked back and his trendy sneakers."

"Trendy sneakers?" asked Alfred.

"Those white sneakers that Elly's obsessed with," said Bruce. "The guy was a walking girl magnet. Why else would she invite him over?"

"Loneliness," said Alfred. "The fact that she has three friends in this whole world apart from you and me."

"What? That's not - okay, that's true," sighed Bruce. "Alfred, did you know that kid is a gymnast? He's probably better than Ella. He's trained under professionals since he was two years old. He's a fantastic swimmer, too. And apparently, he has martial arts experience. Imagine what I could make of him if I got my hands on him."

"I thought Ella was your perspective sidekick," grunted Alfred, though he immediately regretted bringing that disagreement up.

Bruce moaned as he pushed himself out of the easy chair and stretched his shoulders, "Yeah, I mean, that's the plan. But you were right. She is awfully young. Maybe I should focus on someone more mature for now. You know that Grayson kid has a great mind for business. Did you hear his idea on marketing? That was brilliant! We could use young blood like him at the company. I wonder what he plans to do with his future. We talked about swimming and Wayne Enterprises so much that I never got around to discussing his plans for a career. We should invite him over for lunch tomorrow. I'd like to meet his parents, too. Find out what sort of people this guy comes from."

Alfred sighed, tying off the thread with which he was working. A perfect mend. The swimsuit was good as new as long as Ella stopped climbing over the sharp rocks on the beach. "Yes, Master Wayne," said Alfred, "spending even more time with the brilliant young man will certainly solve your problems with our girl."

"Oh, Alfred, Ella needs to lighten up," said Bruce. "She is used to having our undivided attention, and it won't hurt her to entertain herself for a few days while we're here." Bruce groaned as he turned and steadied himself on the back of the chair. "And with that, I'm off to bed," he announced. "Tell Ella not to wake me in the morning. She needs to learn self-control." He limped from the room, steadying himself on the furniture he passed.

"Goodnight, Master Wayne," said Alfred, his voice low. He dropped his tone to a whisper, "I hope you find your smarts soon because you've certainly lost them."

"What was that?" asked Bruce, using the doorframe as support.

"Just goodnight, sir," shrugged Alfred.

"Mm, yeah, goodnight," nodded Bruce.

Neither man saw the figure hovering in the dining room across the hall. Bruce limped away, and Alfred stood up, carrying his sewing box to the cupboard under the south window. The silent individual sunk into the shadows, hardly daring to breathe and watched as Alfred tidied up the living room and turned out the lights. The elderly butler trudged down the hall in the opposite direction Bruce had taken, and a few seconds later, the hall light turned out.

The figure stepped gently into the hall and stared toward Bruce's room, chest rising and falling in a faltering attempt to control the threatening tears. "He's not anything special," whispered Ella, clutching her fists as she fought back a sob. "He's just a stupid boy." She bit her lip hard as the tears ran free, dripping off her chin in a steady flow. Stepping lightly, she scurried through the house and turned off the security alarm, allowing her exit out the back door to be silent without alerting Bruce or Alfred. The warm ocean breeze immediately brought her a sense of relief, and she stopped a moment, breathing deeply. Her hair blew back, and for a moment, she had the fleeting image of Ariel on the rock in the iconic scene from The Little Mermaid. She smirked through her tears, "Mermaids would make stupid vigilantes. I wonder what Bruce would look like with a fish tail?" Ella rolled her eyes. There went her train of thought again, bouncing around like a screen saver on an old computer.

Ella sighed, leaning against the railing of the back porch and letting the breeze warm her. The moon reflected off the ocean and illuminated the beach with a beautiful glow. It was incredibly calming, and Ella closed her eyes, capturing the image in her memory. It hit her rather suddenly. She needed some space. Right now.

And the dirt bike her father had hidden in the garage was going to give her just that.

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Quick, but it's something! I know the ending so now...I just have to write it. Thanks for reading!