"Oh, please? You guys have got to stay the night," Elle begged the boys from her position in the middle seat of the Range Rover. "It's the weekend! Come on, where do you have to be that's more important that spending time with your exceptional, most excellent, big brother . . . And his girlfriend!"
"Elle," Dick squeezed her shoulder. "Bruce may have plans with them."
"What? Like what?" Elle suddenly caught his look and remembered. "Oh. Oh! Right . . . Well, then . . . Okay. Maybe some other time, then. I'm sure whatever your dad has planned is more exciting than a home-cooked, authentic, Italian meal and a game night."
Dick narrowed his eyes at her. "That's a low blow."
"Why? They don't know whether or not I'm even a good cook," she said, pouting. "You may have just saved them from a fate worse than death. In fact, that would be a very big brother kind of thing to do." She frowned at him, even as she slid over against his shoulder for a cuddle.
"I'm sure that once they have the chance to taste your cooking they'll be ticked off with me for denying them even one of your delicious meals," he assured her as he rested his chin on her head. "Besides, you shouldn't be standing on your ankle for the next several days, at least."
Elle huffed, and then winced when she forgot herself and wiggled her toes. The last run she had gotten on the inner tubes, the group had taken a slope where a few of the students had built a jump. When the group had hit it and gone airborne, the four inner tubes had split apart and all ten riders, including Elle, had flown off in all directions.
It could have ended worse. She had tucked her body mid-air; managing a flip worthy of Nightwing in order to come down on her feet. Unfortunately, the uneven ground wasn't as forgiving as water would have been, and Elle's right foot had twisted upon landing. Their day of sledding had ended with a two-hour wait at the emergency room where her ankle was X-rayed, wrapped, and Elle was presented with a pair of crutches with instructions to stay off of it for a few days.
Still, she supposed that if she hadn't had the presence of mind to flip as she fell, Elle's landing might have resulted in a different outcome; one that could have been distinctly unhappy. Who knew that competitive diving would one day save her life? She found her mind kept wandering onto the oddities of life and luck over the course of the past hour.
At the moment, her foot was propped on the console between the driver and passenger seat. The whole thing was downright humiliating! Thank God she had had a pedicure last week. The raspberry color on her toenails was still perfect. Well, except for the big toe . . . The nurse had removed the polish on that toe in order to be sure the circulation in her foot wasn't compromised. She pursed her lips thinking, maybe if she were lucky, she might talk Dick into polishing the toenail for her.
"How are you feeling now, Elle," Bruce asked from behind the wheel of the Rover.
She sighed. "That Vicodin is good stuff," she said in lieu of an answer.
It occurred to her at that point, that the pain medication was what was making it hard to focus, and was why her thoughts kept jumping around. Not that it mattered . . . She felt good.
"I'm sorry you were hurt. The day was great except for that," Tim offered from the back seat.
Elle waved her hand in the air. "It was a great day, wasn't it?"
"Except for the last two hours," Damian grumbled.
"I'll be fine! It was my own fault, anyway. I have the worst luck with solid objects. You know, like the ground." Elle smiled.
"And canoes," Dick murmured in her ear. "Don't forget canoes."
She giggled and rolled her head up to grin at him. "And canoes," she agreed, happily.
"How are you laughing," demanded Damian. "You just sprained your ankle!"
"It could have been worse, Damian," she told him.
"How is that," he challenged.
"It could have been you, or Tim," she said simply. The boy fell silent at her pronouncement, but Elle continued. "No worries, though. I heal fast. I'll be up in a day; two tops!"
"Well, I must say you do have a good attitude about things," Alfred remarked from the front passenger seat.
"What other attitude is there, Alfred? Whining about it doesn't make it go away. It only makes everyone listening to you just as miserable as you are." Elle sighed and curled deeper into Dick's arms.
"Sometimes," came Damian's voice from behind them, "that is the whole point."
"But who wants to be around someone who is miserable?" Elle asked him. "If you run everyone off, then who's left to take care of you? Even if you have to suffer alone, having a good attitude always seems to make things more bearable."
Damian didn't answer her, but she knew he heard her, and was thinking about what she said.
"The offer is still open if you two want to come back to Gotham with us. Alfred and the rest of us would be there to help whenever Dick had to work, and then you wouldn't be alone." Bruce offered again.
Elle smiled. Dick's family was so sweet!
"Thank you, Bruce," she said. "But I have to work, too. A sprained ankle is too far from my throat to keep me from singing."
She saw Bruce's eyes on her through the rear-view mirror. "After this last attack, should you still be working there? I know your father is wealthy, and Dick told me that you don't like taking money from him, but if this is a financial problem . . ."
Elle sat up and held up a hand. "I appreciate the offer I know you're about to make, but I can't refuse my father's offer to help and then take yours. The whole idea is that I become independent. That means I earn my keep and pay my own way! And to do that, I need a job."
Bruce was silent for a moment. "What about working for Wayne Enterprises? I know the owner and think I can pull a few strings if you would like a job there." Bruce smiled at her through the rearview mirror.
"Hm, working for my boyfriend's father's company . . . A nice, cushy job making a little better than average wage with comfortable benefits and a retirement package." Elle tapped her finger against her chin as she pretended to think about it. "Yeah, I can see how that would make me appear totally independent."
"I just want to see you in a safer environment," Bruce said, defensively.
His frustration was showing a bit, but Elle thought it was cute. The Vicodin made everything cute . . .
"It's a really good offer, Mr. Wayne, even if it smacks a little of nepotism," Elle grinned; easing the sting of rejection.
Bruce's eyes met hers. "Nepotism isn't necessarily a bad thing, Elle, if it keeps you safe and keeps Dick from worrying."
"You know, I bought some mace yesterday," she blurted, happily.
Bruce sighed; his gaze finding Dick's in the mirror. "Mace," he said. "She bought mace."
"I'll bring her over to the manor sometime this week and we can go over some more self-defense techniques with her," Dick suggested.
Dick had already been over this with her. Despite the fact that he was basically her partner now, she refused his offer to take care of her outright. He would just have to continue to escort her home every night and make certain he was never late again. But, just in case, he wanted to hedge their bet with a few more classes. He couldn't be with her every minute of every day, so he needed to be certain that she knew how to take care of herself whenever he wasn't around.
"Don't let me forget that I need to call Poppa and reschedule my trip home," Elle told him. "I have to wait until my car is out of the shop. I don't want him sending a car after me."
"You have a car?" Bruce asked politely.
Dick snorted. "Yeah, a pile of screws that no one would steal even for the scrap metal."
Elle rounded on him as much as her ankle and her seatbelt allowed in a huff. "Hey! That's my baby you're badmouthing!"
Dick rolled his eyes. "Your baby is older than you," he quipped.
"Phfft," She waved her hand expressively. "Exaggerate much?"
Dick rolled his eyes. The medication was making her moods mercurial. "You can hold your breath until pigs fly, Elle. I'm not apologizing. That hunk of junk isn't worth the spit it takes to hold it together." Dick groused. "If you insist on driving a car, then we're going shopping on my next day off for one that will actually start."
"I like my car," Elle sputtered, indignant. "And I can't afford a new one!"
"Then I'll buy it," he growled. "You aren't driving that piece of . . ." Dick seemed to suddenly remember Alfred's presence. "That car is gone, Elle. After this last time, that is it!"
Elle glared at him.
"Don't give me that look," he told her. "We talked about this! You promised that if that car couldn't be made to run reliably, then you'd get rid of it!"
"No," she corrected. "You pronounced that if it wasn't up to your standards that I would be forced to get rid of it!"
"That's right," Dick agreed, his voice rose as he spoke until he was yelling. "And part of my standards is that the car will start whenever you turn the key!"
Elle opened her mouth to argue, but realized she hadn't an argument left. Dick was right. She had agreed to his terms and the car had not only broken on her, but managed to do so at the worst possible time. If Dick hadn't shown up as Nightwing when he did, there was a good chance that she wouldn't be here right now. Elle was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid. She threw herself back against her seat with a huff, and stared out the window; pouting.
The silence in the vehicle was total.
After a few minutes of this, Elle glanced out of the corner of her eye at Alfred. He was staring studiously at the road ahead as if their very lives depended on it. Bruce's eyes flicked from the road to where Dick was sitting. Her eyes narrowed. There was a silent conversation going on between them; she knew it. She couldn't see the boys in the seat behind her, but no sounds were emanating from the back; not even breathing!
Suddenly, Elle realized that she had intimidated the Bat family to speechlessness! The ridiculousness of the situation struck her as funny, and though she tried to contain it, a giggle still escaped. Bruce's eyes zipped over to meet hers. He looked startled. She has startled the Batman! She had silenced and startled the Dark Knight! Elle snickered again.
Dick leaned over to stare at her.
Elle laughed outright as she pushed his face away. "Stop it," she commanded. "You guys are cracking me up!"
Dick glanced at Bruce and then at the boys in bewilderment. "Don't look at me! I think the Vicodin is making her giddy."
She snorted in amusement.
Turning back to Dick, she apologized; sliding a hand along his cheek. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "You're right and I'm wrong. I know you only want me to be safe, and I did agree to your terms. But I will miss my baby." She sighed unhappily; her mood abruptly plummeting.
Dick smiled and kissed her palm; attempting to coax her smile back. "I'm sorry, too, but not for wanting you to be safe. Never for that! And while I know you love that crappy car, I don't think I'll ever understand it."
"Yeah, it is a terrible car," she agreed, forlornly. "I'm really going to miss it."
Bruce pulled up in front of Dick's apartment building. Dick's building super had still not shoveled the sidewalks. The man was a pretty lousy superintendent. Dick realized that Elle wouldn't be able to use her crutches in that mess. He was going to have to carry her in. He supposed with all things being fair, he should probably move to a better place if he insisted she get a better car. It was something to think about, anyway.
"Oh, dear," Alfred murmured. "How is Miss Arabella supposed to get through that on crutches?"
"I'm going to carry her, Alf," Dick announced, opening the door. "Could one of you get her crutches for me?"
There was a struggle in the back seat as Damian and Tim fought for the honor of carrying in Elle's crutches.
Elle tossed her coat into the back. "One of you can carry my coat in for me, if you would. I won't need it in the time it will take to get inside the building."
The scrambling stopped and Damian and Tim slipped out of the Range Rover as if nothing had happened. Damian carrying the crutches that were almost too big for him, and Tim carrying her coat. Dick had stepped out of the way while the boys had gotten out and now stepped close to pick Elle up.
"Are you sure about this?" She didn't sound all that sure of this herself.
He smiled reassuringly. "I've got you. I promise you, Elle, that I will never let you fall. I'll always be here to catch you," he told her softly.
Elle hesitated at his words. They seemed to mean something more than their face value. "I know you won't," she said. "I trust you."
Dick gathered her up in his arms so that she dangled a bit over his shoulder. He suppose he could have transported her in a cradle carry, but this way he could still dig out his keys and get the door open. Elle waved at Bruce and Alfred as Dick tromped through the snow rather than trek over the icy sidewalk. Once they were inside, Damian handed over Elle's crutches and Tim handed Dick her coat.
"It's kind of cold in here," Tim complained.
Dick shot Elle a look. His asshole super deserved more than a disturbed sleep.
"Thank you for coming and enjoying the day with us," Elle told them. "We will have to do it again sometime."
"Yeah, it was fun," Tim agreed, looking a little surprised that he was telling the truth.
"And you," Elle looked at Damian. "Did you have a good time? I know it wasn't sky-diving without a parachute, but it was still fun for you, wasn't it?"
"It was acceptable," Damian admitted.
Elle blinked and frowned.
"I meant, the day was agreeable," Damian corrected himself.
"Agreeable . . ." Elle repeated hesitantly. Her forehead was wrinkled with worry.
Damian huffed. "What I mean to say is that I . . . enjoyed the day. I had . . . fun. Thank you."
Elle face broke out into a huge smile, and she struggled with the crutches so that she could give Damian a one-armed hug while balancing the with other. The crutch fell over in a loud clatter. Elle laughed as she held on to Damian so that she wouldn't fall over with it. The woman was so wobbly on her one foot, it was all the shorter boy could do to keep her upright.
"This would be easier if you would stop laughing," Damian complained. Unfortunately, that just made Elle laugh all the harder.
"Don't just stand there gawking! One of you imbeciles grab her other crutch before I drop her." Damian yelled.
Tim and Dick both dived for the crutch and nearly knocked them over and themselves out as they bumped heads.
"Ack!" Elle yelped, hopping on one foot and clinging to Damian.
"Stop! Hold still," the boy commanded.
Tim grabbed up the crutch as Dick moved to steady his girlfriend and little brother. After a moment, Elle was once more balanced precariously on both crutches. Damian was rubbing the back of his neck and blushing furiously. She snickered; tried to stop and ending up choking. Dick patted her on the back carefully. She looked like she would fall over any second.
"How can a woman so graceful in the water and on a stage be such a klutz the rest of the time?" Dick muttered; teasing her.
"Pshaw!" Elle snorted delicately. "I'm only a klutz on land."
"Which is ninety-five percent of the time," he reminded her.
She nuzzled his ear, whispering. "It gives you the opportunity to cop a feel in public without anyone being the wiser."
Dick burst out laughing, as Elle, once more, thanked the boys and sent them out with thank you's for Bruce and Alfred again as well.
Elle looked at him after they waved the retreating Range Rover away. "So, over all . . . I think that went rather well!"
Reactions?
Personally, I love that Elle's a little bit klutzy when she's not performing or swimming.