OKAY! Let me start off by saying…PLEASE REVIEW! And then I will say that Elizabeth's opinions on America are in no way shape or form meant to be derogatory to America, so DO NOT FLAME ME! ALL FLAMES WILL BE LAUGHED AT IF YOU SAY 'America's better then India, and China, and Egypt put together!' it's just building on her character.

ANYWAY…on with the story, I just had to get that out first.

I sat in the airconditioned bliss of the private jet, waiting to land. I'd had about six hours sleep on the plane, waking to find that Bruce had placed a blanket gently around me. I fingered the cloth, frowning slightly, but didn't say anything, especially when he came in from the cockpit and looked at me, a wry expression on his face.

I turned away to look out of the window. I'd never been overseas before. And now I was going to America of all places. I'd never wanted to go to America for a holiday. It was too much like Australia. I wanted to go somewhere really different. Like China. India. Egypt.

But hey, I guess this little thing wasn't an actual holiday.

"Did you sleep well?" Bruce asked quietly, and I shrugged.

"As well as I could considering I'm on a private jet heading to America and the clouds outside are looking really turbulent-y." I answered truthfully. At his look I amended my comment. "I've never really been a good flier. Not a terrible one, but not great." The clouds outside were worrying though. Every now and then I'd see a flash of light in the dark grey clouds. Lightning. I didn't like that we'd have to fly through that before we could land one bit.

He nodded, so I continued. Okay, so I may have been babbling a little. "I mean, if God had meant for us to fly, then he would have given us wings, right? But instead we're sitting in some million tonne metal tube a couple thousand feet in the air."

He grinned, sitting down in the chair across from me. "A lot of people feel that way." He said. "But don't worry. A friend of mine always says, statistically speaking, flying is the safest way to travel."

I smiled. He was trying to help me through my nervousness about flying. That was cute. And sweet.

"Thanks, Bruce." I said, before folding the blanket up. "How long until we get to Metropolis?"

He looked regretful. "The pilot says there's a storm cell over the eastern sea board. I don't think we're going to be able to land in Metropolis, or Gotham for that matter."

I frowned. Well, this wasn't in the plan. "Where then?" I asked. "how bad is it?"

Bruce shrugged. "The pilot said we could probably make it through, but I said to land somewhere else."

"Can you do that?" I asked curiously. "Just change your flight plan like that without any notice?"

Bruce looked thoughtful, as if that hadn't occurred to him. It probably hadn't. Rich billionaire's don't usually think about the laws they break until they do.

He didn't have a chance to answer. There was a loud crack, and the lights went out, the plane shaking.

My eyes widened, even as Bruce sprang forward, clasping the two ends of my seat belt and clicking them together before he jumped back into his seat and did it to himself.

"Just some turbulence." He said, smiling reassuringly. I bit my lip, but nodded anyway, closing my eyes even as the plane continued to shudder. This wasn't so fun anymore. Pfft. Like it was any fun in the first place.

The pilots voice came over the speakers. "Mr. Wayne, Miss Morgan, if you could please fasten your seat belts. We're experiencing some mild turbulence."

"Mild?" I exclaimed, my eyes flying open. "Mild turbulence?"

I closed my eyes again as the plane shook more violently, grasping the arm rests so tightly I thought I might break them. My stomach was rebelling, and I nearly vomited, but held on grimly. Puking on the newly discovered parental might not be the best first impression I wanted to make.

"Tell me again why I'm here?" I bit out, wishing we were on the ground already.

He didn't say anything, except to reach over and grasp my hand. Ok. It was slightly better now. Not quite so bad. If he could reach over and hold my hand, I guess the turbulence couldn't have been too horrible.

But it still scared the shit out of me.

We landed on the ground without incident. I had the overwhelming urge to kiss the ground, but seeing as there was a limousine waiting on the tarmac for us, I didn't. And it was SNOWING, and Bruce was following me with my bag, I declined. I would have carried my own bag, but my legs were still a bit shaky from the horrific landing that I think I would have fallen down the stairs that had been rolled up to the plane's door.

And I was freezing. Jeans and a tank top so didn't cut it in snow. And Bruce had just conveniently failed to mention about the snow.

I did stand still for a moment when we were on the ground though, closing my eyes and sighing thankfully that we had landed safely. That plane trip had left something to be desired. I opened my eyes when Bruce placed an arm on my shoulder, and saw him looking at me with concern. Okay. I was okay.

I smiled reassuringly at him, taking my duffle from him to prove I was alright, before squaring my shoulders and following him to the car. Maybe the added exertion of carrying my bag would warm me up.

When we got closer to the car the driver stepped out, in a tuxedo, looking every bit amused at the situation.

"Master Bruce. An eventful trip?" he said primly, and Bruce smiled.

"You could say that." He nodded, then pulled me forward a bit. "This is Elizabeth Morgan. My daughter."

The man nodded, stepping forward and taking my duffle to place it in the boot of the car.

"Elizabeth, this is Alfred Pennyworth. He's been looking after me since I was in diapers."

I raised an eyebrow at Bruce. This guy had been with him for at least forty something years? Jesus. Talk about being committed to your work.

"And I've done an amazing job of putting up with him as well." Alfred said to me, eyes twinkling. "Care to step in the car, Miss Morgan?"

I grinned. He seemed pretty cool. A bit of a smartass, so that was always good. Not to mention British. That was pretty cool. Some breath of fresh air in the American dominated world. Not that I planned to stay there for long enough to need a breath of fresh air.

"It's just Elizabeth." I said as I stepped into the heated car, Bruce following me.

I heard faintly as Alfred closed the door, making me roll my eyes, "As you wish, Miss Elizabeth."

"Does he always do that?" I asked Bruce plaintively as I buckled my seat belt.

"Do what?" he asked, sitting on the other side of the limo. The battle lines had been drawn. His side and my side.

"The whole, Miss Elizabeth, Master Bruce thing." I explained. "It just seems…tedious."

Bruce smirked. "good luck trying to get him to call you anything else. I've been trying that for years."

I tried not to think that I wouldn't be around for years. Now that I'd been getting to know Bruce I kinda liked him, though it was still early days yet. He could turn out to be a complete jerk. This could be a publicity stunt. And this adopted son I kept hearing so much about…Tim? He could be a little shit. I never did catch how old he was, though I think I remembered seeing something on the news about him when I was locked up in my place, trying to keep away from the press, and he'd been maybe three years younger then me, so I guess changing diapers was out of the question.

There was someone else Bruce had adopted, someone named Richard? But he was a good three, four years older then me at least now. At least I wouldn't have any 'siblings' my age.

"How far is it to Gotham?" I asked curiously, running my fingers over the leather.

"Only a couple of hours." Bruce said, relaxed. "It'll be bad when we get to the Manor, but these windows are dark enough that the press wont be able to get a look in."

"Okay." I said smally, drawing my knees up to rest my head against, a little awkwardly. I was still a bit chilly from the weather outside, not to mention tired still. I don't think anyone can rest well on a plane.

"I know it's hard." Bruce said softly, drawing my eyes up to him. "And I'm not pressuring you into anything. If you want to go back to Australia, all you have to do is ask. I'll keep out of your life until you want me around, if you ever want me around, and I'll try my best to keep the press off you."

I looked at him thoughtfully, trying to decide if he was for real or not. This was just so surreal. I find out I have a father, who's actually nice, AND one of the richest men in the world? Why me? Why did I win the magic lotto?

"Why are you doing all this?" I asked quietly. "Why did you rush out to Australia as soon as you heard? Why did I even get on the plane?" I asked, my voice raising. "This is crazy!"

Bruce was looking at me thoughtfully from across the limousine. "I can't answer that last question." He said honestly. "But I hope it's because you want to get to know me as much as I want to get to know you. I remember your mother. She was a bright, wonderful woman, Elizabeth, and if you turn out half as good as she did, then you'd make me very proud to call you daughter."

I gave a frustrated little scream. What was up with this guy? He was so…suave. Understanding. It was like he had someone writing this material for him. I was half tempted to check him for an earpiece, but held back.

"What the hell is up with you?" I said instead, my voice a little high. "How long did you rehearse that for? And who wrote it? Laying it on thick aren't you? As if this isn't just some stunt to get publicity or something. There is no way you're like that for real."

"Like what?" he asked coolly, looking at me curiously.

"Calm!" I shouted. "Collected! You can't tell me this doesn't bother you! You've suddenly found out you have a daughter, and you're sitting there like…" I trailed off, horror filling me. "Like you already knew." I said softly, glaring at him.

"How long have you known?" I seethed. "How long did you know about me before you acted on it?"

He looked alarmed now, reaching forward in his seat to place a hand on me calmingly. I shrunk away, and he stopped.

"I didn't kn-," he started, but I cut him off.

"Months?" I laughed sadly. "Years? Do you really expect me to believe that you had no idea about me? That you would have jumped on a plane to go halfway around the world as soon as you found out? That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life Bruce."

He looked sad, and I almost felt bad, but held that feeling at bay. It wasn't his life that had just been screwed around. He still had his money, he still had his jet. He could escape it all if it got too much. Me, I was just 'escaping' through his good graces. And if he suddenly decided he didn't want me around, I'd be stuck in America with no way home.

"I don't know what's happened in your life to make you so cynical of anyone just wanting to help." He said quietly, looking at me intensely. "But that sort of thing does happen. Whether you believe me or not about me knowing about you is immaterial. I'm here, now, and I want to get to know you. And I'm only calm and collected because I know nothing will come from screaming and shouting." He gave me a small grin as I continued to glare at him. "And to tell you the truth, I kind of like the idea of having a daughter. I've only ever had sons."

I looked at him, biting my lip before looking away. Even though I had just had that little freak out he was still being nice to me. He was still acting like he wanted me. Maybe he was my father. I sniffed pathetically, and he unbuckled his seat belt, moving from his side of the car to mine. Sitting next to me he cautiously put an arm around me. I gulped a little, but let myself wrap an arm loosely around him as tears started to fall. I don't know why I was acting like that. It wasn't an overly sad moment or anything. It wasn't like my pet gold fish had died or anything. (he'd actually been dead for a year now…I forgot to feed him when I went on holiday…) I was a twenty year old, very capable woman. And I messing up his three hundred dollar shirt.

I pulled away after a few moments, wiping my eyes. No need to scare him off just yet.

"You okay?" he asked, pulling out a handkerchief. I nodded shakily, accepting it and wiping my eyes properly, trying to calm my breathing.

"It's just…" I trailed off, and he half smiled at me.

"I know, Elizabeth." He said simply, pulling away and buckling up in the seat next to mine, his hand travelling down to grasp mine comfortingly. It felt weird to hear him call me that, but somehow, it felt familiar. Like that's how it should be. I realised I wouldn't be able to make him call me 'Miss Morgan' any longer. Especially if I wasn't going to let Alfred do it. But I wasn't going to start calling him 'Dad' yet.

"Thanks." I whispered quietly. A squeeze of my hand was the only response.

Bruce watched her sleep with a contemplating look. She really was his daughter. Same nose, same hair. She had her mothers eyes, and her mothers tall, slim body. And her mothers fiery attitude. He was hit with a sudden sadness. He hadn't been around when she was growing up. He hadn't seen her grow into the tough, clever woman she was now. He hadn't been around to dote on her like he should have. She was his daughter. All those birthdays, and Christmas' he'd missed out on.

Well. He was going to make that up to her, if she let him. Not even his duties as Batman would stop him.

They went the back way into the Manor, just to be sure. Tim had called ahead and said there were about two dozen reporters camping outside the gates to the Wayne Estates, and Bruce was grateful he did, even if the ringing of his phone had woken Elizabeth, who hastily straightened and tugged her singlet right. They didn't want a run over reporter as well as the stir that was going to be going on with this new scandal.

When Elizabeth saw the Manor though, Bruce held his breath. She'd either love it, or hate it, he knew.

Her eyes widened as she stared out the window.

"Whoa."

OKAY. So Elizabeth was a little PMS-y this chapter. And Bruce was a little sensitive for my liking, but as much as I fiddled around with it, it didn't seem to flow either way. And don't worry…there WILL be a story line.

But first, some questions to be asked.

Romance in the story… I've been thinking about perhaps it being Roy Harper, aka Arsenal, cos he's one of my faves, but I would like any suggestions you guys have.

I also need feedback on whether or not in the VERY VERY long distance future, Elizabeth should become a vigilante. I'm trying to figure out the plot in my head, and I need feedback.

So, in short, reviews would be great, whether its about romance or vigilantism, or whether its to tell me how crap my story is, please review!