NOTE: Several factors have gone into the making of this story--mainly the fact that I'm an over-worked, non-paid civil servant of the school system of TX (I HATE HIGH SCHOOL). But, also, I'm in the Christmas mood in August, what can I say? OH! Something DID inspire me for this. *points to TV* It's my secret as to whaaaat! I have been swept into the world of nostalgia and plan to write about it!! Partially the Batman: Shaman series fault. Not that I'm COMPLAINING… Also, thinking to the argument that's going on the Batman animated message boards right now, this is to those who like Bruce Wayne. A tribute to him.
This story started as a narrative totally of Bruce Wayne, but now I've combined it together with more of a story… Just to give it length and depth, you know?
Legalities: Batman and all related characters are property of DC Comics--I make no profit from this. I wanna work for DC Comics though. That'd be too cool. But I'm not worthyyyyy!!!
Summary so you know what you're stepping into: Batman goes through a "episode" trying to figure out what to do on Christmas Day.
Angels (Once titled "Never Again")
By: Carmen Wayne
Christmas in Gotham City.
That's almost an oxymoron. How is it possible for a city that is so crime ridden ever be peaceful for one night? The answer comes in the masses on the streets below. People flooding in and out of mall outlets during the Eve of Christmas, doing the last of their shopping. Within, people talk and laugh. In front of a huge Christmas tree, a woman dressed as Mrs. Claus sat, reading stories to a group of children as Christmas music played on the speakers.
Standing across the way in the entrance of a highly expensive department store was a tall, attractive man with black hair and blue eyes. Standing there in an expensive suit and topcoat, he stood out as someone of stature. He listened with sad emotion as the woman turned the page and spoke loudly.
"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house--Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…"
With hurt eyes, he flashed back to when he was very young and his mother would read him that same story every single Christmas, since even before he could remember. And every time, he'd fall asleep before she was done and he'd have to be covered up warmly in his bed.
'I had sweet dreams those days,' the man thought. 'Not anymore. My dreams are nightmarish now. Even on the night of Christmas Eve.'
The tired blue gaze of the man ran across the crowds of parents that watched their children listen to Mrs. Claus and ask Santa Claus nearby for gifts. He remembered the first time he met Santa as a child. First he cried, and then he ripped the beard off the man. After that, it took everything in his parents' power to convince the six year old it was one of Santa's elves. Once satisfied, the young boy took it upon himself to apologize to the "elf" before they left.
A hand lightly brushed the man's arm for his attention. Turning, he saw a little boy with raven hair and baby blue eyes staring up at him. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw a young man that he once cared for long ago. Once he mentally smacked himself from the delusion, he knelt down and smiled to the young boy.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"Why are you standing here all alone, Mister?" the boy asked in a innocent tone.
"I'm waiting for someone. What are you doing walking to complete strangers in the middle of a busy mall? That's dangerous, you know."
"I know. But you don't look dangerous."
The man mused at that and looked at the boy, interested.
"And why do you say that?"
"I don't know. You just don't!"
"Where's your mother or father?"
His response came in the form of a older man rushing over. The younger man stood straight as the assumed father rushed over.
"Johnny, Johnny are you mad? Don't run off on me again!"
"Sorry, grandpa…"
The man stood straight and looked to the younger man suspiciously. The younger man coughed slightly.
"He only asked me a few questions sir. I was going to help him find his parents or… grandparents."
"Grandparent, actually. I'm all he has." The older of the two saw slight horror go across the younger's face. "He lost his parents in a fire…"
"Oh… I-I'm sorry. I didn't… that is… unnhhh…"
The older man just smirked and extended his hand.
"Charles Conner."
"Bruce. Bruce Wayne."
They shook hands and Charles nodded, recognizing the name and finally the face.
"Bruce Wayne, yes. What's a man like you doing at a mall on Christmas Eve? One would THINK you'd be with a super model off in Hawaii or some place!"
Bruce shrugged and forced a smile.
"I've traveled enough in my life, and met plenty of people. I prefer to be home for the holidays. Actually, I'm here looking for gifts for some friends of mine… Perhaps you could give me a hand?"
"Well I certainly could try! And I'm sure Johnny here will too, right?" he asked nicely.
"Sure!" Johnny smiled.
Bruce began to walk, Charles beside him, holding Johnny's hand.
"My friend… Well he's more of a son to me. I want to buy him something, but I haven't a CLUE what to get him."
He gestured around the large department store. Charles frowned a moment, looking at him.
"What are his interests?"
Bruce sighed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.
"We don't exactly talk much. But I'm assuming he has a natural hate for ties due to my making him wear them as a child and teenager…"
Charles chuckled.
"My boy was the same way. But, Wayne! You have to keep talking to him. What time is he coming over tomorrow?" The numb look on Bruce's face told Charles everything. "It's really nice to buy gifts for people, Bruce. It's even better when they receive them."
"When I call, he's not there. And I only call when I'm not busy…"
"Mmmhmm. Sounds to me you both have a problem admitting your REAL feelings."
"Pardon?" Bruce had heard that phrase one too many times in the wrong way and he did NOT want to hear it now. "I don't think you understand--!!"
"*As father and son*!!" Charles interrupted. Bruce immediately cooled down into totally confused. Charles slowly turned their pace so they headed for escalators. "Me and my boy? Nothing in common. I had my job, he had his sports and school. We saw each other at dinner, and that was it. Nothing like the other. Finally, he went off to college and I got a promotion. It sent me here and him to LA, California. Ten years would pass before I ever talked to him. Finally he called to say he was getting married. My baby boy that I held in my arms when he was born, and when he needed to eat, up to his nightmares as a young child was getting married. I didn't even know the man standing before me… And I regret it. Because I missed out on so much time. The MORAL of this anecdote is you can't take anything for granted."
"I know… But--"
"Blood or not, would you die for him?"
"Wha--?"
"Would you willingly sacrifice yourself for him?"
Bruce looked hurt at the analogy to his life but realized that Charles wasn't about to back off.
"Of course I would, Charles. I *lost* one surrogate son without ever saying I cared… I just…"
He looked away as they stood on the huge escalator. Charles nodded, understanding everything Bruce wasn't saying.
"You haven't a clue where to start with the first son." They stepped off the escalator and he talked as Bruce looked a large clock. "The best gift is love, Bruce. And you start showing love by showing the one you love that you're willing to abandon life for even a few seconds so you dedicated your complete attention to them."
Bruce sighed and nodded. He turned to Charles and offered his hand.
"I'll do that, right now. I'm serious! I'll go now and take you up on your advice!" he said.
Charles shook his hand and nodded.
"Good, Wayne. Give me a call sometime, will you? I want to know how things worked out!"
Bruce nodded and backed off. He delivered his thanks and rushed off. To the new acquaintance it was because he was going to call his old ward, but in reality, he had a scheduled "date" to make, and couldn't miss it. Walking out of the department store on the higher level, he stopped at the railing and looked down at all the happy children and their parents.
'Look at them… So happy in the warmth of their parents love. I once knew that love, as did Dick. I seemed to abandon the hope of ever feeling that warmth ever again. So much so that when Dick ever asked for it, I was never able to truly deliver…'
He began to walk along the railing slowly, gazing around at the happy, cheerful crowds. The happiness that was within the mall made him proud that they were able to all get along for at least one day out of the entire year. As he walked along, he came across the indoor ice skating arena where yet another large Christmas tree stood from the center. Down below it, he saw a young girl slip and nearly fall, but her mother was able to catch her. Bruce looked straight ahead of him and tried to keep calm.
'Parents are there to rescue you and keep you safe from danger. They don't put you within danger… And they don't get you killed. I'm such a fool…'
The Gotham Mausoleum. A tall, gruesome building of black stone and concrete gargoyles, a tribute to the dead. A sight Bruce Wayne has seen too often. However, this cold night, it isn't Bruce Wayne that is visiting…
Atop a marble black gargoyle, wrapped in an equally black cloth is the Batman. A crusader most days for a dark justice in a dark city. One night, he is able to rest and reflect on his life. He's come to this place for a reason that he will not evade for anything in the world.
The air is cold, but it doesn't seem to effect him as he attaches a rope to the gargoyle base. He can't let the enemy get to him… Not this time.
He drops down several stories with the aide of the rope and hits the soft, knee-deep snow hard enough to cause waves of the white substance to go outwards. Not wanting to be spotted by any cameras around the ancient building, he takes off running in a specific direction. He knows where he is going and why he is going there. He has to--he's drawn in to the spot.
"The best gift is love, Bruce. And you start showing love by showing the one you love that you're willing to abandon life for even a few seconds so you dedicated your complete attention to them."
'Love? Love?! Love is only part of the commitment!!!' he screamed in his mind.
He skidded to a stop in front of a grave, snow fluttering around him. Staring at the cold stone, every memory he had came into play. The words on the frozen stone were just enough to even make him shiver, and not from the cold.
"In Loving Memory of Jason Todd Wayne"
'Love is only part of the commitment… Protection and the promise to give them a full, rich life is the other part…'
Batman stared at the gravestone a moment, and then dropped to his knees. Jason and he had shared only one Christmas together. It couldn't even be counted as a real Christmas in his eyes, and he hated himself more and more for it. Bowing his head and closed his eyes, he began to speak to Jason Todd… Almost pray to him or to anyone who would bother to listen from a higher level.
********
Sometimes you wonder if good things were meant to be crushed. At least in my case, I wonder that constantly. They wonder why I act like they're china dolls that are one-of-a-kind… It's because, damn it, they are MY china dolls and they ARE one-of-a-kind!!
Dick Grayson. When he first came to me, I was reluctant. "What am I doing?!" I thought constantly. "I can't be a vigilante, billionaire playboy AND a father!" I tried to convince myself it would only be until I could find another home for him. One with a mother AND a father. Two people that would love him and care for him and treat him as if he were really their child. But through time I began to understand him… Understand that fury within him. Without proper guidance, one day I could end up having to fight him as I fought the Joker.
And after that came the love. Unrequited love that time and again he showed to me. The few times he saw me, he'd ask for help with his homework, or how to read a certain word or SOME thing like that. That one time when he broke this yo-yo Alfred gave him, he asked me to fix it because he didn't want Alfred to be hurt that he broke the toy--Dick was about ten at the time. It was a thin steel with red and green swirls-Dick's favorite colors. I had a few moments to spare, so I tried my best. And he watched with this respect I had never seen before… Alfred looks at me with a fatherly love, and I couldn't ask for more from him. Others looked at me from many things. Anger, spite, fear, anticipation (don't ask), jealousy… But never respect. At least not what was in Dick's eyes, or in his tone when he thanked me for trying to fix it. I apologized that it wasn't fixable, and he said that was all right. No complaining, no blaming, just, "That's okay, Bruce. Thanks for trying! I mean that." And off he went.
Eventually I found myself loving this young boy as well. Perverted gossips with nothing else to do would think it was a sickly love. I'd NEVER… Dick's a son to me. I'd DIE for that boy… MAN. Have to remember he's a *man* now. Not a boy. Not my little boy… Not Robin the Boy Wonder… Not my son. Never again would he be the boy I cared for so much that I'd throw myself into chain gunfire for… But now a strong, willing man toned perfectly for any situation that I'd like to believe, at times would throw himself into chain gunfire… for me.
Barbara Gordon. The first time I saw her, I had to laugh to myself. A "little girl" molding herself fancifully into a childhood idol--the Batman. I *knew* it was her. Not from her voice, size, hair color… Now that I think about it, I'm not sure HOW I discovered that she was Batgirl. It came to me in a fluid notion the moment she began to save me from those thugs that night…
For a while there, I just wanted her to stop the charade and to leave us to do our work (us being Batman and Robin). She messed up stopping small time thugs--she messed up stopping super criminals. Truth be known, I felt she was a nuisance. I suppose the REAL reason I never stopped her…
Every time she came around, I'd see how Robin would change. He'd lighten up more and it seemed every one of his hormones migrated his entire body to her. Actually, I have to say it was… well, cute! For a lack of better words. (Is "cute" in my vocabulary? Yes. But it's a "veiled reference".)
As time passed and Batgirl became more and more of a clear presence in this… "Bat-family", I began to accept her as well. She learned from me and learned how to defend justice in her own ways. I was proud of her. So was her father.
I guess I accepted her beyond a partner--and NO, not in THAT way either, unlike the beliefs of so many "Bat-fans" around Gotham City. I can't explain it. She was like a relative, someone I would have to protect. In ways, she… she would remind me of my mother. I'm not exactly sure how, but… She just DID.
Yes, Barbara Gordon was an ally. She was a friend. She was almost… a sister. A best friend that you never really bother to learn a lot about, not wanting to get too absorbed because they might hurt you… And by the time you're willing to get close, it's too late because they've all ready shut you out.
When Dick shot, I don't know what it was that I felt… Yes I do. Horror. Utter horror. The same pain and anger and frightened confusion that I experienced when my parents were killed before me. "Is he okay?!" was my first thought. When he fell off the roof, it turned into "Is he… dead?" Finally, the evil clown who DID it came to mind… I wanted him dead. To this day I have no idea exactly WHY I spared him… I suppose because I had to make sure my… son… was going to be all right. He's what mattered.
And then, I fired him. Like he worked for me in my company. The anger that I felt towards the Joker soon turned towards him. Why did he come after me?! Why didn't he LISTEN?!
Again… I think it has something to do with our relationship…
I notice everything. Don't get me wrong, a lot of times it doesn't seem to matter to me because I'm so busy, but I DO notice. When Dick was younger and I told him to stay behind and I was going out without him… I saw the disappointment, and I knew the fear within him. Even a blind man could see his thoughts.
When I fired him, I think the fear turned to hatred and anger. And so, he left me completely…
And to Robin I said, "Never again."
Jason Todd. When he came in, I have no idea what I was truly thinking. Here's this boy with Urban jungle survival skills and the will and means to be my ward and Robin. Why did I let him?
………
I missed Dick. I did a lot of things wrong in our relationship. I wanted to fix it through Jason. His hair was to be dyed black from red, reasonably enough. The Joker and Two-Face and others would easily identify it wasn't the first Robin. But I suppose it was also to help with the illusion I was setting up for myself. At the time, I thought it was fine… But now I can't seem to stop punishing myself over using Jason as a guinea pig for my own emotions.
I… I think Dick took it wrong, though. I *know* he did. He thought I brought Jason in… Made him Robin… ADOPTED him… Just to spite Dick. I don't think that's true, but everything has a hidden meaning whether you intend it or not. But from Dick's standpoint, I can see how he felt that.
The moment I knew the Joker was free, I ran on a quest to find him. All over town, all his old hideouts--not a trace. When I found out he had been nowhere else but Commissioner Gordon's residence, the worst of my fears began to unwind. They told me about Barbara and the bullet slicing her spinal cord… Remember when I said in some ways she was like my mother? …My God, that's how it felt when I saw her there…
I should have handled things differently. I don't regret going after the madman. I don't regret following Commissioner Gordon's word…
I regret ever giving that Clown a chance in Hell. And Hell it is. Gotham City. Hell to all who might live there because of creatures like the Joker… Yes, I should have beaten him down within an inch of his life, but instead I… *laughed* with him… I let the authorities haul him away, thinking maybe they'd keep him there that time…
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Everything leading up to Jason's death is a complete and total blur. If I tried, I'd remember. I never forget. But I want to, so I choose to usually not think that much these days.
His skin… it was cold the moment I touched him… No… life…
When you touch someone, you can feel their life--superstitious or not--it's a fact that you can just feel their warmth on a sixth sense level. When I touched Jason, it was like touching my mother's cheek after she had been shot. The warmth within was gone. All that remained was a shell of a boy I made miserable to try to make things better in my mind. Like one of those training sessions where we reenact a situation to see how we can do things differently for the next time…
But I was Hell-bent to make sure there WASN'T going to be a next time after Jason. Never again.
From there, it wasn't controllable. The fury I worked so hard to eradicate from Dick's and Jason's lives erupted within ME. "Think with your mind, not your fists," I said. "Be on top of every situation and never leap in until your sure it's going to be under your control," I said…
All of that went out the window after Jason was buried. I could have cared less for my life then. No one seems to understand why I work myself when something bad happens… Some people pray, some people cry, some people talk. Me? I can't pray. I can't cry. And I certainly can't talk. The only way for me to deal with such situations is to work myself into a state were I can't think, or even see straight. When the pain joins with love and that melts with anger, and finally everything mental and physical combine, THAT is the state I wish to reach… Void the emotions that hurt in the rage of a workaholic obsessed with more than a "job", but a duty.
Broken bones, bruised knuckles, internal bleeding, sickness, and concussions. After Barbara's paralysis and Jason's death, I fought it all. I was so deep into the need to fight the pain, I didn't seem to mind that I could die. I welcomed death--and frankly, I still do. Not that I'd ever kill myself with a weapon. As a teenager I thought about it frequently, only the promise that I made as a boy keeping me fueled for life longer and longer. Nowadays, I jump into situations after analyzing, true. But if I die, I die. Period. But during the time period after Jason's death… I was so "out there", I couldn't even tell that a little 13 year old was taking pictures of me…
********
"…you can't take anything for granted."
Batman opened his eyes slowly and looked up at the dark stone. He could feel under his cowl where tears were trapped underneath. By now, the cold was coming through his thermal coverings and chilling his skin into numbness. Shuddering, he tried to stand up on his own. No such luck. His legs had no feeling, no will to work. Part of that could have been attributed to his lack of confidence.
'I know perfection when I see it. …I am not perfection. I strive for perfection, but I'll never reach it… Ever…'
"My sons…" he whispered out in a white wisps of vapors. Taking in a deep breath, he crawled to the grave by use of his hands only and clutched the sides of the stone. "Jason… You know I wouldn't miss this date. As last year, this year I've come… And I will continue to do so. We will spend Christmas Eve together, even for a moment. I promise you."
He bowed his head as he continued to grip the sold mass before him. He squinted his eyes shut to force away tears. Strength washing back into his lower body, he stood and backed off several feet. Staring at the wording, he still shuddered at the thought.
"I… I'm sorry for using you like I did, Jason…"
He turned and rushed off, unable to bare standing there. As if he was on trial for his alleged crimes by Jason Todd himself, but it was only his own persecution that drove him away.
Running as fast as he could without slipping on the icy ground, Batman just wanted out of the cemetery, away from all the horrible memories. Minutes passed until he finally reached a large fence bordered by trees. Batman leapt up to a tree and kicked off it, up higher so he could make a clean sail over the top of the iron rods. He landed gracefully on the other side and continued to run. All the while, he panted in angry spurts of breath and thoughts ran through his mind quickly.
'Pain. Love. Hate. Health. Friendship. Money. Happiness. Acquaintance… My God, where does the line go? "You hurt only the ones you love." "A real friend knows when to knock you down." "No pain, no gain." "Money can't buy you happiness." Where does it go?! The one night of the year that we're all supposed to get along and love one another just blurs the line more and more!'
Almost thirty minutes later, he skidded to a stop as a large cathedral came into view. He remembered that cathedral. St. Peter's. Partially an orphanage thanks to a generous donation from Wayne Foundations. Batman slowly walked along the shadows of the park that sat in front of the cathedral. Still, he panted from his run. It helped with his being cold, but now he was just angry with himself.
'They built a Nativity display in the front now… It's beautiful. The cathedral's so bright… Cold yet warm. Another blurred line… And they fixed up that large tree there with so many bright lights… It's beautiful… Dick liked Christmas trees as a child, but I'm not sure anymore………
'I can't face Dick. Not now. Not yet…'
His mind continued to jump subjects at speeds that were just short of neurotic panic as he came closer and closer to the large, historic structure. Gotham City was known for it's old buildings and classic design that gave an appearance all it's own--one of darkness and evil, heightened only by the electricity and few good citizens that dwelled there. This cathedral, lined on the top with gargoyle spouts, snow covering the glass pains of bright colors, seemed to be drawing in the Dark Knight somehow.
The closer he got the clearer voices from within became. But they weren't spoken voices, but rather sweet sounding melodies. Sliding into the large front doors silently, he was able to peer from inside the entrance to the main area. People sat and listened to the orphans and other children sing Christmas carols. Most of them were parents and such. Batman frowned as he counted heads. Even if it was one parent to a child, the choir was made up of about forty children--and only half would have a parent with them.
'So sad, to be alone on Christmas. It's not fair to be stuck somewhere like this without a parent. The priests and nuns here can't possibly be enough to soothe their agonies. Even if they don't act it, being alone hurts. And there's no telling what they've been throu--'
His thoughts were cut short as he spotted a couple that had just been observing the choir walk towards the entrance way he stood in. He rushed down the narrow room and behind a pillar. The man opened the first door for his significant other and she thanked him. Both walked to the large wood doors and exited, laughing as they went.
'How can they laugh? I mistook them for parents… And they can LAUGH as they walk out on over twenty orphans?'
He walked back to the glass doors and entered. The voices were now crystal clear without being blocked by any sort of "shield". Keeping to the shadows, Batman watched the children sing. His eyes were widened and sad at the thought of what they could be going through. How many more of these people were just listening to the trained voices, that he had misunderstood to be parents?
Someone else stood up to leave. A male bundled up tightly in a jacket and with a baseball cap he hadn't bothered to take off. Batman felt compelled to give him a talking to, but he just stayed back and didn't move. The quite short man walked past him to the door, but then stopped.
"Out kind of late," said a familiar voice. Batman couldn't place the light sound. Turning at lifting the hat a little, the male nodded. "How are you?"
"…Tim…?" Batman whispered, surprised. "Shouldn't you be at home?"
"Have to go shopping for Dad now. But I decided to drop in… Give a little charity and listen to them sing," Tim Drake whispered back. Batman noticed he was wearing a fake goatee to help disguise himself. Replacing his hat, Tim looked at the door like he was looking at some through it. "I thought I saw you enter. What are you doing out tonight? I thought you were taking it easy."
"I… changed my mind. There were a few loose strings I had to tie up."
"At Saint Peter's?" Tim asked.
He looked at him with his blue eyes knowingly. Batman looked away.
"Are you headed home now?"
"Like I said, I have to shop for Dad. What do you think I should get him?"
"A fishing set?"
Tim smirked as his finger traced the thick glass.
"Funny. Well, I should go. But if you plan to stay longer, the performance is about thirty minutes more, and then they go to sleep…" He pushed the door open, but paused again. "And I bet if you just called him and left a message, he'd be willing to talk to you."
Batman looked over to where he was, only to see the door clicking shut. He smirked at that, but looked back to the choir. It was then he noticed how long he actually had been running around like a frantic monkey. He coughed with a bit of a sneeze. Not a loud cough-sneeze, but enough to turn a few heads. He retreated back so far he was against the wall. Praying no one saw his movements, he remained perfectly still.
The wall behind him shifted and he pulled away and turned. The wall wasn't a wall after all, but was in fact a door. A old priest opened it wide and a soft yellow light washed over Batman. The priest stood in shock as Batman sprinted to the left side of the large hall. The priest wanted to call him back, but didn't want to catch anyone's attentions. He watched Batman turn and bolt up the tiny staircase to a second level.
'All wrong. All wrong! Shouldn't have come in. So stupid!'
Stifling several coughs, Batman ran across that upper level. Anyone who looked up in that way could see him, but no one seemed to pay attention. Turning at the end of the long pathway, there was another staircase. He just wanted to find a way out, two people, whether one was an ally or not, was two too many for him. So, he went up that flight. At the end was a narrow hall stretching on both sides of him. The only light came from under the cracks of doors. Taking his best guess, he went to the right.
Many winding staircases and confusing hallways later, he found himself at the large, closed down bell tower. He blocked a sneeze and switched on his Starlite vision. Seconds of searching, and he found a door. He walked over and touched the handle. Taking in a deep breath, he opened it slowly, to find it a balcony on the very top of the gigantic building. Snowflakes hit his exposed face as a cold gust of wind followed. Closing his eyes, he took in the scent and feeling of the atmosphere. The freedom the night brought and the quietness that followed snow on Christmas Eve. Gotham City seemed almost dead, but he didn't care. His self-created neuroticism over the situation with his surrogate son seemed to have vanished as he meditated over the silence.
Gripping the stone rail before him with one hand, he turned off the Starlite technology with the other. A yawn followed and a deep-throated cough after that.
'Must be coming down with something. Alfred's going to have a fit… Sick and tired. When's the last time I've slept? …Good three days ago… Nightmare ridden sleep… Can't seem to forget finding his body…
'It was cold. The feeling I suspected I'd feel when Dick was shot and fell off the building… I was fortunate not to lose him then… But… Jason……'
There was a shift behind him. He spun and switched on his Starlite technology. Standing there was the priest that had spotted him. He backed off to the railing and turned to jump.
"Wait!" the old man pleaded. Batman stopped moving, but didn't turn back to him. He heard the man come closer. "What are you doing here…?"
"It was a mistake. I thought I saw someone--"
"If you're worried that you're not welcome, then you're wrong." Batman looked over his shoulder to the priest. "In fact, I had always hoped you would come. Are you religious?"
"No… Not these days…"
"I see. Then what brings you here, may I ask?"
"…The orphans. I wished to check on them."
The priest smiled and walked out onto the balcony with Batman.
"It's always nice to know there is a tangible guardian angel watching over us."
Batman bowed his head.
"I'm no angel…" he whispered.
"And where did you get this idea, might I ask?"
"The Joker… Two-Face… Riddler… That's where. They hurt so many people! And when I get them in my grasp… RIGHT in my grasp! …I don't do anything but haul them away to Arkham, just so they can break out and kill again…"
"So you're suggesting that you should KILL them?"
Batman rubbed his eyes and spun around to lean back on the railing. He shook his head in confusion.
"I… I don't KNOW. It's just, they've plagued this city for so long, and it would be for a greater good…"
The priest touched his shoulder gently and shook his head.
"The greater good has been blurred over so long, Batman."
"Just like everything else."
"Meaning…?"
"Where does it stop?" He turned again and waved a hand over the city before them. "Hatred coming from the "innocent" and murder from children… Appreciation turns to jealousy, love to apathy and in the end all that ever matters is the evil. Even in your religion night existed before day. And things that should be as different as night and day--love and hate, jealousy and happiness, life and death--have become as one and there's no in-between and there's no "hues" or left wing-right wing discussions! I AM the proof of that."
The priest slowly walked to the door, replaying that in his mind. At the door, he looked over his shoulder at Batman.
"Such a shame you think that… Because though you work with the night, I can still tell you're working for a better day… And as far as I'm concerned, you're welcome here any day or night."
The priest began to leave, but Batman stopped him with a gentle hand.
"May I ask for… advice?"
He thought the priest would be shocked, or laugh or something typical that would set him off… Instead, the priest nodded.
"Of course. I'll help all I can."
Batman thought of the perfect way to phrase what he wanted to say. After a moment, he looked at the priest.
"I have a… son. Actually… three, but one's no longer with us… And my first, we don't get along very well. We haven't talked in quite some time. My third says I should just call him up, but every time I do, he's not there, or not picking up. And that's after I can make myself. The few times we do talk it's so vague, it's as if we're strangers… I want to get him a Christmas gift, mail it to him probably since I can't CALL him…" Batman couldn't believe he was just spilling this out, but there was something about the priest he trusted. And he continued, "The point is, what should I give to him? What's the perfect gift, in your opinion?"
"Something that would mean a lot to him from the past," the priest said quietly. "To show that you do care. And then deliver the message that you *love* him and want to spend more time with him. Not as two crime fighters-if he is one now-and not as strangers… But as father and son."
"……Thank you… I'll see what I can make myself do."
The priest nodded and smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Batman. God bless you and all of your children."
"…Merry Christmas…"
The priest exited the balcony, into the bell tower. Batman watched the door shut, but not lock, and he turned out to gaze over the city.
'Something from the past, hmm? I wonder…'
Quickly, he threw out a line and swooped away into the snowy night.
"You have called Grayson Manor, heheh, if you'd like to do so, please wait ten minutes for the beep because this stupid thing doesn't WORK right! Oh, unless you've got a sub-sonic frequency device, and then it'll crank on sooner, kay? Bye!"
Sitting in his study, Bruce Wayne laughed quietly at that and put a small device to the speaker part of the phone (he had played this game before) and sounded the frequency.
BEEP!
"Dick… I know it's late…" He gazed over to the clock across the study that read five before midnight. "*Really* late, but I was calling to… ask if you can make it up here tomorrow. If you're busy with the others, I'll understand…"
"…But just know the invitations there. I'd like to talk to you."
Standing there, drenched in cold water and bleeding from the shoulder was Nightwing. He panted and ran a hand through his hair.
"Come on, Bruce. I have a life, you know…" he said to the machine. He looked at his shoulder and sighed. "Then again, it's been a while since I was able to yell at him for being stupid… Look at this! Shame on you, shoulder!" He hobbled over for his bathroom to get changed and cleaned up. "Fine, Bruce, fine! Can't believe I'm going… He PROBABLY heard about my Blockbuster escapade tonight. Whoopsie!"
Alfred Pennyworth was concerned. Bruce had bolted out of the house shortly after he left that message for Dick. He had taken a jeep that he owned and just vanished into the night. Alfred had been ordered to haul in some boxes Bruce placed on the door steps. He did so, but it took nearly thirty minutes due to the quantity. Just as he sat the last one down in the main entrance, he heard Bruce pulled up. Alfred paused, not really wanting to go out there. There was a thud and a scratching sound to signify Bruce was dragging something up to the door.
"Good heavens, he killed someone!" Alfred said, knowing better.
Bruce entered, gripping the end of a fairly decent sized pine tree with gloved hands.
"Open the other door for me, will you?" he asked with a sneeze.
"Of course, Master Bruce."
Alfred did so and Bruce dragged the ten-foot tree in all the way. He bolted out and dragged back in a large stand for it, along with gloves for Alfred. He tossed them to Alfred and took the stand around to where he wanted the tree in the study.
"We'll need to move the boxes into here, because that's where I want this set up."
"Ah, I see, Master Scrooge. And when did the ghosts of Christmas show up tonight?" Alfred asked as he fitted the gloves on.
Bruce rushed past and grabbed the tree again.
"I didn't need any ghosts, Alfred. Just a few good people giving me reminders on what it is to be a father."
"I see. And so you went lumberjacking?"
Bruce dragged the tree past him. He waited until it was clear so he could get the boxes.
"Actually, you'll see what I have in mind," Bruce said from within the study.
"Might I inquire as to where on Earth you got the tree, Sir?"
"That, Alfred, is part of my not telling and just delivering. Now help me set up the tree so we can get this done quickly. I don't know when Dick's going to show up today, so I want to be ready. It's all ready three and I can't waste any more time."
"And if he doesn't come?"
"Oh, he'll come. I probably caught him right when he was entering from a death-defying stunt that sliced him open. He'll think I found out."
"Ah, now it becomes clear. You black mailed him to come here."
The next day, Dick Grayson's arrival came by the sound of cats being choked (or, you can say his tires squealing on the icy driveway). He headed for the door as he stripped off his helmet and gloves. At the door, he went to knock, but it opened to the friendly face of Alfred.
"Please, do come in before the frightened wildlife decide to attack, Master Dick!"
Dick brushed off the snow that had gathered on his jacket. He loved Alfred's sense of humor so much. He lunged in and hugged Alfred tightly.
"Merry Christmas!!" he laughed.
"And to you, Sir!" Alfred said with a chuckle.
Dick backed off and looked around.
"Still dark and dreary. Where's the Raven?" he joked. "And Bruce too."
"In the study, actually."
Dick thanked him and walked over. Taking in a deep breath, he opened it and rushed in.
"Now Bruce, I can explain everything! None of the Titans were available and--"
"Dick!" Bruce yelled to stop him. He stood from his desk and walked around to him. "Calm down. I don't want to know what stupid ordeal you got caught up in. It's Christmas Day. Do you want to watch 'It's A Wonderful Life'?"
Holding up the tape, he walked past. Dick turned to say something, but words got stopped when his eyes landed on the tree. It was heavy decorated with tinsel and ornaments he had seen when he was younger, when Bruce first started doing that. After he was older, Bruce stopped and just wouldn't be around for Christmas… And now here they were again.
"Bruce…?" he asked warily.
Bruce stopped and followed his gaze. He sighed.
"Oh, that old thing? Well, I heard you might be coming, so I decided to pull it out from the wild and give it a home. Hope you like it!"
"I-I-I-I…" Dick stumbled over words. "Bruce, I… I…"
Alfred peered in the door and raised a hand that had a five by five (by five) box to Bruce. Bruce had wrapped it himself, but stored it with Alfred just in case. He took it thankfully and walked over to Dick.
"I didn't know what to get you, so I hope a dead bat is fine."
Dick looked disgusted as he warily took the box.
"Where'd the humor come from?" he asked slowly.
He noticed a silver card on the lid and pulled it off. He turned and slowly began to walk, reading the card aloud.
"'Dear Dick', heh, cute. 'It's been a long year--', straight on that. '--and we haven't talked very much through it, regretfully. So many times I've tried to call, but couldn't pick up the phone. I was unable to face you…'…" Dick stopped walking and stared at the note, going pale in the face. "'I've let you down too often. A couple of times, I tried to call, and I actually did it too, just to find you were out of there, doing "your stuff." And, quite frankly, I'm proud that I contributed to you being the independent man you are today from things I did in the past. The point is, though… Christmas Eve, I had an epiphany--several of them, actually--and so, I just want you to know that I do care, and even if we don't get along, I'll be there for you always in the long run. Sincerely, Bruce.'"
Dick's eyes met Bruce's, wide with a shock that couldn't be described. Bruce had a knowing grin across his face. A grin he hadn't flashed since Dick was a child. Immediately, Dick began to hyperventilate.
"Are you okay?!" Bruce exclaimed.
"Twi-Twilight Zone!" Dick choked.
Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes, grinning all the same.
"Shut up and open the box."
Dick grinned and pocketed the letter into his jacket. Slowly, he undid the red and gold ribbons that were atop the cheery wrapping paper that formed to the box and lid. He opened the lid and shuffled through some red paper. His eyes widening in shock, he slowly pulled the gift.
"Oh… my God, Bruce…" In his hand was a thin steel yo-yo that was colored with red and green swirls. "This is a first edition! Exactly the same kind of the one Alfred got me! Where'd you get this?!"
He looked at Bruce who gave a passive shrug to get rid of the subject.
"You like it?" he asked.
"Like it…? Oh, Bruce, God… I can't thank you! I was so heartbroken when I had to face Alfred about this… Thank you!"
Bruce chuckled and watched Dick drop it down on his finger and sling it around him quickly.
"Hey! Be careful and don't break anything!" And you know what else?" Bruce asked darkly.
"The return of the Dark Knight over here…" Dick mumbled, bringing the yo-yo in unhappily. "Yes, Master?"
Bruce grinned once again and waved for him to follow.
"Lets go and have a Merry Christmas, hmm, chum? I think it's time we catch up on old times."
NOTE: Several factors have gone into the making of this story--mainly the fact that I'm an over-worked, non-paid civil servant of the school system of TX (I HATE HIGH SCHOOL). But, also, I'm in the Christmas mood in August, what can I say? OH! Something DID inspire me for this. *points to TV* It's my secret as to whaaaat! I have been swept into the world of nostalgia and plan to write about it!! Partially the Batman: Shaman series fault. Not that I'm COMPLAINING… Also, thinking to the argument that's going on the Batman animated message boards right now, this is to those who like Bruce Wayne. A tribute to him.